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It's been raining for three days.
When they left camp four days ago, the sky was blue and the sun was shining. Nothing made anyone think there'd be rain, let alone the torrent they've been subject to.
"At least we don't have lighting to contend with," Charles says.
"You still trying to find some silver lining?" Arthur grumbles back. Water collects around the brim of his hat and spills into his lap when he moves his head.
Charles has been positive, optimistic, almost cheerful the entire time they've been gone, like the rain energizes him. He chuckles more, talks more, smiles more.
It wears on a guy's nerves.
"Sorry," Charles says, clearly not sorry. Arthur grunts something dismissive.
"We ought to stop soon," Charles adds. "'Less you want to go down the canyon in the dark."
"No thanks," Arthur says, wondering how it could get much darker, but taking the point.
They stop on the rim of the canyon and put the horses under as much tree cover as they can find. Charles sets to work setting up their tent and Arthur rummages through his saddlebags for sustenance. What he wants more than food is a warm, dry place to sit down, maybe catch a few winks, but that's not going to happen. The rain shows no sign of letting up.
"Fire?"
"Couldn't start one last night, remember? What, you think another day of rain dried the wood any?"
Charles frowns, the first time Arthur's seen that in days. "I'm not an idiot, Morgan, don't talk to me like one. Do I look any happier to be out here than you do?"
"Well… yeah," Arthur says. He's been pretty sure of it since the rain started.
"It's warm enough, warmer than it'd be in autumn, and we've got nowhere to be for almost another week; it's not so bad. I'm trying to make the best of it. But that doesn't mean I like being soaked and cold at night, or like listening to you bellyache." Charles stakes the last tent peg into the ground with more force than necessary, especially given the ground is mostly muck. He wipes the spray back off his hands on the sleeve of Arthur's coat.
"Hey!"
Charles' shoulders relax a little. He doesn't reply, just gives Arthur a little smile that some might call a smirk.
Arthur has no real recourse except to grimace. "You want a fire, you make it."
"Fine," says Charles placidly, apparently content to live and let live once again.
"But if I get it going, you don't get to enjoy it with me," he adds just as Arthur's turning around.
Arthur snorts out an ugly laugh and then he's sorry -- very, very sorry -- a few minutes later when Charles gets a fire started. It's small and smoky, but it's definitely a fire.
"How in the hell?" he demands.
Charles looks up and smiles. "You've just gotta get a handful of sparks to light. Pretty simple after that."
"It's been raining for days!"
"You can't sit with me," Charles reminds him.
Arthur huffs and sits down anyway. Charles narrows his eyes, but doesn't move.
They share the food from Arthur's pack, listening to the rain, finally slowing to a drizzle around them, and the hiss the drops turn into when they hit the fire.
"Tent still wet?" Arthur asks, his crankiness turning into tiredness. A raindrop hits him square in the eye and he groans, scrubbing at his face.
"Yeah."
"Yeah, of course. Great, see you in the morning." He doesn't even have the energy to complain any more.
Charles must follow almost right away because Arthur's not yet asleep when he crawls into the tent.
The rain is trying, their long trek is wearying, but the nights have been the toughest part of this trip for Arthur. Charles is a furnace and he sleeps like he owns the tiny space, leaving Arthur to choose between wet canvas or an overly familiar night of sleep. He also snores, which Arthur knew going into this, but he didn't realize it would sound so different up close.
The wet canvas is too much to bear for another night.
"Charles?"
Charles opens his eyes.
"Shove over."
"Ain't nowhere to shove. These aren't the nicest accommodations, you know."
Arthur bites back a sarcastic noise.
"What?"
"If I wanna be comfortable, I'll basically be on top of you."
"So? Get comfortable, I don't care. We've got another, what, fourteen, sixteen hours tomorrow? Might as well get some sleep, and you won't bother me. I can sleep anywhere."
Arthur sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, fine." He nudges Charles' arm up and over and presses his back to Charles' side. "Okay?"
He gets a snuffling snore in response.
The dawn comes with more rain, a light, misty drizzle. Not great, not sunshine, but not as bad as it could have been. Arthur wakes up sweaty and overheating, his face tucked into Charles' chest with a sturdy pair of arms circling him. If it weren't so unbearably warm, it wouldn't be so bad, Arthur thinks. Would probably be pretty nice in the winter, even. Charles smells nice, like rain shockingly, and it wasn't so bad just having company.
Before he gets too comfortable, he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. Arthur can't pull away properly with no space and no give to Charles' grip, so he prods Charles' shoulder sharply.
"Sorry," Charles mumbles, withdrawing his arms. "I've been told I, uh… Get handsy. In my sleep, sometimes."
Arthur rolls his eyes. "You were a gentleman."
"Damn," Charles says.
A surprised noise catches in Arthur's throat. Charles meets his eyes and holds the gaze.
"Charles, I…"
"I didn't mean anything," he says, finally looking away. He's gotten real quiet. Arthur knows he meant it, may have meant a lot of things. He wracks his brain, did he miss something, some sign? What does Charles know? Is he baiting him, trying to get him to say something foolish, or worse, do something?
"Think you did," Arthur says, nudging Charles' leg with his knee, gauging his reaction closely.
Charles takes a deep breath. "No offense meant. Just… just ignore me."
Arthur bites his lip, makes a split second decision he might regret later. He won't know until after if he's wrong, but if he's right, it'll be worth it.
"Don't think I will," Arthur says. He leans across the few inches that separate them and kisses Charles.
It's Charles' turn to make a surprised noise, which quickly transforms into a pleased noise. His hand comes up to cup Arthur's face while Arthur bunches his hand in Charles' shirt and tugs. Charles breaks away to laugh, and for the first time since setting out, Arthur doesn't frown or grumble.
It may be raining for the fourth straight day, but Arthur suddenly can't care less.