Chapter Text
This entire thing with Arthur was relatively new, not to mention fragile, so Charles wanted to give him as much space as he could whenever he would leave.
Charles had never had anyone the way that Arthur let him, and he had never let anyone have the hold on him that Arthur does. It was a new feeling; foreign and exciting, but terrifying all the same. He hadn’t the slightest idea of what a relationship was meant to be, and Arthur had already been with others prior to him. The idea of messing this up, or of losing the trust of Arthur when they hadn’t been…whatever they are for more than a month was the worst fear he’d ever had.
So, when Lenny approached him with this plan of his, Charles declined. This whole idea of this bet angered him more than the let on—Arthur does the best he can for these people, and he has such little privacy; the least they owe him is his space.
Charles felt even stronger about this after seeing how upset Arthur was once John went to get him. Although, something told him that it wasn't the fact that he was sent back to camp, more so the person that went after him. He doesn’t really understand their feud, but Charles didn’t want to pry into business that wasn’t his own.
So, he did the only thing he could do: be a confidante for him, as his friend and as his partner.
Charles was a man who had a lot of things that were taken away from him, and he’d be damned if he allowed anything to take from him the one person that he valued most in the world.
But, when Dutch—who was unaware of the bet—told Charles specifically to get Arthur after a week of gallivanting about, well, Charles saw very little choice in the matter.
He left before the desperate gamblers of the camp could start complaining.
Charles had an amazing advantage over everyone else: Arthur actually told him where he was going.
He told him he was off to Saint Denis, the so-called “Eighth Wonder of the World.” Much as Arthur despised cities, .there was no denying that there was always some work to be done there. Also said he was checking in on an acquaintance of his; making sure he isn’t dead. Charles had no idea what Arthur meant by that, but still, he let him go without any questions.
Charles had been tasked with finding Arthur before, so he could tell the difference between knowing where he was heading and leaving camp completely blind. He much preferred this than leaving without the smallest hint as to where the outlaw had in mind to go to.
When Charles left, it had been early morning. As he rode into the city, it was late evening. Saint Denis was not close. He had a peaceful ride, and thank goodness for that; the city was full of bustling and hustling. He had always hated an excessive amount of noise, and he knew that Arthur did as well, so this "friend" of his better be something else to be worth the trouble of going so far to a place so miserable.
Charles' first instinct told him that it would be a nightmare to find Arthur; the second instinct told him that it would be easier than finding an ox in a field of sheep. All he had to do was follow wherever he heard the most commotion.
So, when Charles heard an angry man yelling at someone begging for mercy in a French accent, Charles' gut told him to follow the noise. His gut was right. There Arthur was, threatening a man that was bothering the French guy on the floor. After the guy ran off, Arthur turned to the French guy to scold him.
After two minutes of this, he sighed and helped him off the ground. Charles didn't see the right time to butt in here.
"But, seriously, Charles—leave them wives alone, 'less you wanna get hurt again. You're lucky I had a feelin' you needed help or else you would've gotten your ass kicked."
The man—another Charles—scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Désolé, mon cheri. I fear that I cannot do that. You forget that my work aims to anger and offend—it is not my problem society has such an issue with sleeping with anyone that is interested, married or not."
Arthur scoffed, annoyed to no end. "Be that as it may, I ain't always gonna be around for your beck-and-call whenever you need me. Also, knock it off with that French; you know I don't understand a damn thing you're saying."
"Whatever you say, cheri. But you know, this isn't the first time you've saved me from this kind of situation. I should repay you, yes?" The French Charles got uncomfortably close for Charles' own liking, running his finger down Arthur's chest.
Arthur's face scrunched up in what Charles assumed to be disgust, backing away from him. "Châtenay, whatever you've got cooking in that head of yours best stay in there."
The French Charles shrugged, and moved even closer in a way that had Smith nearly seeing red. "I am just saying. You've never been even a little curious what those dear ladies see in me?"
Arthur pushed him away, no real malice behind it, but still not friendly either. "No. I don't need nor want to be repaid by whatever you think I may want."
Châtenay made a big show of sighing in disappointment. "Oh, yes, that's right. You are deluded by those thoughts of 'fidelity' and 'loyalty.' How very dull for you. But I could still—"
"—Do shit." Arthur shut down, no hesitation in his voice. Charles took pride in his certainty, but he had to admit that he was two seconds away from beating this French guy into a pulp. He sympathized with the man that Arthur had threatened.
"Hm. Pity. Well, should you change your mind—" the French Charles finally caught sight of Smith in the alleyway.
Arthur gave him a look of confusion before Châtenay pointed behind him. Arthur looked back and his eyes widened.
"Charles?"
"Hm?" Châtenay answered.
"No, not you, Châtenay, I—" Arthur took a breath and beckoned Charles over. "Charles, what're you doing here?"
Charles more than happily took the chance to put some distance between Arthur and that French lecher, not-so-subtly grabbing Arthur by the shoulder and pushed him a good distance away from that imposter. "Dutch sent me. But I would've come anyway. You told me that you were going to check on a friend, and I see you were right to do so." He quickly glanced at the other Charles, trying to not make his anger visible.
Châtenay, accustomed to being glared at for "simply" existing, brushed off the look with a cocky little smile.
"You must be the man M. Morgan told me about. M. Smith. The other Charles, yes?"
Oh, no, Charles was not doing this right now. The French was the other one, not Smith.
"Back off of him, Châtenay. He's taken time out of his own day to find me, and I'm sure that he's tired and stressed out enough as it is."
Châtenay have a cocky little smirk and feigned remorse. "Yes, of course. Forgive my humor, monsieur—I make a bad joke, I know. They're the only kind I know how to make. In French, I am much funnier and smarter, but I fear that in English, all I do is come across as a prize…whole-ass."
"You mean an asshole?" Charles corrected, barely able to hear the chuckle that Arthur let out at that, still focused on keeping him as far away from Châtenay as he possibly could.
"That too." Arthur said, referencing something that Charles didn't know about. An inside joke, he assumed. He didn't appreciate the thought.
"You are very lucky, if I may say so, M. Smith. You have somehow managed to tame and take claim of such a wild specimen. Impressive, I commend you for it."
Arthur rolled in his eyes, his temporary good mood soured. "Shut up, ain't no one been claimed. He just so happens to have some idea of what decency is, unlike you, you degenerate."
"I have found that indecency is a lot more fun that being proper, but that is just my truth. I have to admit, had you not been in the picture, I would have tried harder to sway M. Morgan into my chambers. You see, we French believe that a proper thank you is required for when we have one help us out."
Starting to understand what it feels like to have smoke come out of one's ears, Charles let out a low, "Is that so?
"It is so. Alas, he has stayed loyal. What a waste." Charles' grip on Arthur tightened, rushing him out of the area faster than what could be considered polite.
"Charles—hey—! I'll see you again, Châtenay! Don't mess with no one's wives; I won't be here to save you again."
"Whatever you say, sir. Who knows? Maybe you will and I shall be able to feel your lips on mine once more." Those last words stopped Charles dead in his tracks. He felt his fists starting to close around his hand, but he decided to rush both himself and Arthur out of there before the city walls were covered in red.
Arthur was letting out sounds of protest the whole way. The only thing that was stopping Charles from throwing Arthur onto Taima and riding the whole way back to camp with Arthur right next to his side was the fact that Erebus almost nipped his hand off when he saw his rider being dragged around like a rag-doll. Arthur calmed his steed down, and met Charles' gaze with a huff.
"What was that?"Arthur demanded, incredulously.
Charles' eyes narrowed. "Are you really asking me that? I should be the one asking you that. Who the hell was that, and what the hell was with what he said?"The words came out with more bite than he meant them to, the back of his head yelling at him to keep his composure, especially in public, but his irrationality was currently taking the front seat.
The image of that horrible French degenerate being far too friendly with Arthur—his Arthur—was on the forefront of his mind.
"That's jus' the way that he is. He gets a kick out of rilin' folk up. As for what he said, he kissed me out of obligation. He was dressed up as a woman for some 'artistic expression,' and he needed some help to get around town since he had made some enemies that would just love to catch him wearing a dress, so when he thought that he recognized some loan shark he had pissed off, he kissed me to cover himself up. Nothing more to it." Knowing the full context did nothing to soothe Charles' annoyance and anger. He had half a mind to go back to where Châtenay was and finishing the job that his enemies couldn't do. He had other things to worry about now.
"Why didn't you tell me about this? That man is clearly attracted to you, and he kissed you without permission." Well, he hoped he did it without permission. The idea of Arthur happily allowing someone else to do to him what Charles did, when the blonde adamantly swore that he would only ever allow him was a little bit too much for him to bear, the jealousy and hatred spiking in him. Châtenay is beyond lucky that Charles, by some miracle, kept his composure. Should he ever see that man again, he'll make sure that his head is promptly detached from his body.
"Exactly because of this. You care about me, and I value that, but I ain't in the need of no protector. I am a grown man that has dealt with far worse than some French pervert being a bit suggestive. I knew that if I told you, all it would do is get you mad. Besides, there were no feelings on my end about it. I asked him to never do it again, and he hasn't. All that he did was to get a reaction out of us."
"So he did all that just for his own entertainment?"
"Exactly. He's a—ugh, what's the term?" Arthur pondered for a second before he settled on a word, "—a hedonist. Everything he does is in pursuit of his own entertainment."
"…Not the type that I thought that you'd associate with."
"Not normally, but he amuses me. He's trouble, but damn if it ain't funny to see him piss 'decent' folk off."
"…That's all it was?"
"Yes. I am many things, Mr. Smith, but disloyal ain't one of them."
Charles relaxed his back, his eyes meeting Arthur's, and he knew it to be true when he saw the earnest expression on his face. He backed away from Arthur, feeling like he was too close for how furious he had been.
"Sorry, Arthur. I was a fool for ever believing that you would do anything like that."
"It's fine, Charles, really. As I said, this is his whole bit: rile folk up for his own sick satisfaction, I'on understand it, but, who am I to judge? So long as he keeps me out of it, I don't mind. Besides, it's kind of late out, right? The swamps of Saint Denis get strange at night. I'm sure it wouldn't kill us to get a room somewhere." Charles wasn't so slow that he didn't catch that mischievous little look in Arthur's eyes, nor did he miss the way he said "room." Charles chuckled.
"Sure. Sounds nice."
They found a nicer saloon than either of them had any right to stay at and got a room together. Once they woke up, they smiled at each other with a certain kind of warmth that only comes after finding the one that you know you can trust more than anyone else.
They thanked the barkeep for the room, and both took off. The ride was comfortably quiet, the only sounds made by either were to point something out on the road or to make a small detour. In the end, it took a few extra days to come back to camp, even after Charles found him. It wasn't either of their faults that Arthur seemed to attract animals like a magnet.
They got back together, and went their separate ways, a slight brush of each other's hands was their last touch—a silent promise to see each other later.
Unfortunately for Sean, Lenny hadn't managed to grab him before demanding payment from Charles, to which Charles replied to by shoving past him, saying that he never agreed to the game.
Looks like neither of them were in a mood to be bothered, so if Sean decided to not make any remarks about Arthur's neck or the lines he saw on Charles' back when he was changing, that was his own foolish brain's neurons firing for once.