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Convincing Arthur to take some time for himself, that the world wouldn’t collapse after a few mere moments of respite, was always an arduous task. Even before the two of you had become more than friends, you’d noticed the outlaw’s tendency to overwork himself. Arthur walked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, as if even the slightest slip up would result in an avalanche. Whether the responsibility he carried was self-inflicted or not, you sure as hell didn’t envy the man nor the inner workings of his head.
Though you admired the strength of Arthur’s will, the man’s stubbornness was also his undoing – especially where rest was concerned. Though you were new to the gang, Hosea had told you more than a few tales of Arthur overworking himself before eventually collapsing from exhaustion and sleep deprivation that you put forcing your love to take mandatory breaks very high in your list of priorities. Carrying that though to completion, though, was easier said than done.
More often than not, you had to employ the help of either Charles or Hosea to prompt Arthur to take a break. Whilst Charles would forcibly take chores and tasks right out of Arthur’s hands, Hosea had a softer approach, usually assuring Arthur that the work could wait another day or even a few hours.
On this occasion in particular, Hosea’s method seemed to have worked best. It took surprisingly little coaxing to have Arthur lay down the wood-axe he’d been using, soft assurances that they had more than enough firewood to last the week and less than subtle suggestions that he take some time for himself. The fact that Arthur gave up so easily, shoulders slumping after only a cursory objection that was quickly shot down, only proved your suspicions correct.
Arthur had been overworking himself. Again. And based on the sheen of sweat glistening on his brow, visible even from half-way across camp, you could tell the heat of Lemoyne was getting to him.
When you faintly heard Hosea’s lecture;
“Go see what that partner of yours is up to, take a trip to Flat Iron Lake – do something that isn’t work for the love of God!” You turned your gaze back down to the repeater you’d been cleaning.
Distantly, you heard Arthur huff tiredly but mutter his assent, setting down the axe and stomping in your direction. Keeping your head down so as not to give away the pre-planned nature of yours and Hosea’s joint attack, you pretended not to notice your boyfriend until he lent against the table you’d been working on.
“Hey.” His tone was flat and gruff. When you squinted up at him, one hand shielding your eyes from the scorching sun, you noticed that the corners of his mouth were turned downwards.
“Was’up with you?”
“Nothin’, just… Hosea on my ass ‘bout takin’ breaks…” Admitting directly that you agreed with the elder man might have given the game away. So, instead, you tried a different, more subtle tact.
“Well, if you wanna escape from the old man for a while, I was gonna go to the lake for the afternoon – catch up on a bit of reading… You in?” Arthur seemed to pause at the question, leaning heavily on the rickety wooden table and gazing out over the camp from beneath the brim of his hat. You knew he was likely searching for another job that needed doing but to no avail. Charles, bless his soul, had taken care of most of them already.
“Alright.” He agreed after a while. “Someone’s gotta make sure the gators don’t get’cha, don’t they?”
“Hey!” When you shoved at Arthur’s hand, pushing yourself to your feet, he snorted. “I’m more than capable of looking after myself, you know. Who was it that got you out of that scrape in Strawberry? I forget.”
“Alright, alright – keep yer’ hair on… We goin’ to this lake or what, then?”
“Yep, yep.” You nodded your head, reassembling the repeater hastily so it could be stowed away. “Just let me… you know what, darlin’?” You had to physically restrain yourself from cooing at the way the pet name had Arthur’s cheeks tinting pink. He really was too cute for his own good sometimes. “Can you get the book I’ve been reading from our tent and meet me by the horses? Maybe your sketchbook too if you wanna do some drawing while we’re there…”
“Sure thing, I’ll be ready in a jiffy.” Arthur readjusted his hat before pushing off of the table. “Meet you in a sec.” He strode away and off towards your tent, feeling surer of himself now that you’d given him a job to do. Arthur was nothing if not painfully task orientated. Sometimes the best way to get him to take it easy was to put him to work. At least if you were the one giving the instructions you could make sure he didn’t do anything too taxing.
After watching Arthur’s retreating figure for a heartbeat as he avoided a lengthy conversation with Pearson on his way to your tent, you turned and made your way over to the horses hitched at the edge of camp. Like usual, Kieran lingered there, brushing down Charles’s mare. He smiled at you as you approached. Though the man was still skittish of the gang, you liked to think you’d made at least a little headway with him – enough to consider each other tentative friends, at least.
“You mind saddling up Arthur’s horse for me? I got mine covered.” Kieran was quick to throw down the brush.
“Of course!” He scrambled to follow the direction. “You taking him out? Looks like he needs it.”
“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he? Looks ‘bout an hour away from keeling over… hopefully we’ll make it to the lake before he does, though. Don’t fancy hauling his ass there as a dead weight…”
“No, um… hopefully not…” Kieran trailed off, hefting Arthur’s saddle from where it was draped over a nearby fence and bringing it over to his horse. The upwards flick of the younger man’s gaze told you Arthur was on his way over.
A quick look confirmed the suspicion, your book and his own sketchbook in hand. You shot him a smile before turning to the fence too, making to grab your own saddle. When Arthur was close enough; however, a hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You paused, turning back to him with a raised eyebrow and a question on the tip of your tongue.
“I…” Arthur stuttered before staring down at his hand, almost as if he hadn’t realised how it had got there. “Can we just take mine? Saves you getting’ all…” Arthur trailed off dumbly, motioning to your horse and then to your saddle.
You huffed out a laugh but relaxed, shuffling away from the fence and taking your hand in his own. Arthur was terrible when it came to articulating his own wants and needs, but you’d learned how to read him well enough that some of them shone through. This was about comfort, you realised, Arthur wanting to be close to you even if he didn’t want to admit it. Today wasn’t the day for pushing, though, and you were happy not to pry it out of him.
“Alrighty, though I gotta say your horse deserves some extra carrots for having to haul both of our fat asses around today then.” You shot Arthur a lopsided smile, taking the books out of his hands and stowing them away safely in the saddlebags.
“I’ll get on that right away!” Kieran exclaimed, ever earnest and anxious to please. Both you and Arthur chuckled at the outburst, and you smiled as the older man squeezed Kieran’s shoulder.
“Steady there, boy.”
Without further comment, Arthur raised a leg, foot in a stirrup, and hauled himself onto the back of his horse. You moved to give him room yet happily took Arthur’s hand when it was offered.
Without a stirrup of your own, you had to rely wholly on Arthur’s strength to haul you up and onto the back of the saddle, but your love appeared to manage it easily enough. You smiled into the back of his shoulder when situated, wrapping your arms snugly around his waist and pressing yourself against his back. Though Arthur made no comment, he lent back into you, and his hand stroked over the back of yours for a moment before he gripped the reigns.
“See ya later, Kieran.” You smiled, Kieran waving his hand as the two of you departed from the camp and in the direction of the lake about a mile away.
The journey, whilst short, was quiet and relaxed. There was little talking, the both of you simply enjoying being close to one another for a change. With one hand, Arthur held onto the reigns whilst the other gripped yours where it was wrapped around his waist. You rested your head against the back of his shoulder and tried to memorise the feeling of him against you.
It had been too long since the two of you had spent any extended time together. The both of you had been so busy that you’d been unable to appreciate the small moments of closeness – too tired at the end of the day to relax and too rushed in the beginning. Happily, you pressed a kiss to the soft cotton of his shirt.
“Don’t be goin’ soft on me now…” Arthur huffed in response, though you knew he was anything but angry.
“Mmm… you like it when I’m soft… and I think you’re a little soft too.” You squeezed his middle. Whilst Arthur certainly didn’t feel soft, you knew he caried a gentleness in his heart that few had been privileged enough to witness.
It seemed both like no time at all and an eternity before the two of you reached the lake, Arthur’s horse strong and steady beneath you. Like always, it was deserted except for the wildlife – both lucky for you but a travesty in your opinion since it was such a lovely spot for fishing and picnics. The warm summer sun reflected brightly off the surface of the water, prompting you to bring a hand up to shield your eyes whilst Arthur lowered the brim of his hat.
You were the first to slip down from the horse, using Arthur’s belt as a handle just to annoy him. Arthur didn’t grumble, though, and when he jumped down to stand next to you, he seemed almost unsure. The bastard probably had never had a day off in his life – he wouldn’t know what to do with a little free time if it came to him in spades.
Nevertheless, he was quick to help you unsaddle his horse once he realised that was what you were doing and followed you over to the shade provided by a tall oak tree like a lost puppy. It was sweet, really, how at a loss Arthur seemed when given time to relax. And sad, too.
You made yourself comfortable against the trunk of the tree, legs stretched out in front of you and book in hand. When Arthur made no move to join you, you patted the grass by your side.
“Come and sit down, Art – how ‘bout you rest your head on my lap for a bit?” Arthur’s face twitched at the suggestion, as if he wanted to screw his face up but thought better of it. “I’ve been told I make a wonderful pillow.”
You could have laughed at how tentative Arthur’s movements were as he made his way over. He was so confident in most aspects of his life and your relationship that seeing him so unsure about some simple platonic affection was as adorable as it was saddening. You smiled warmly when he met your gaze, patting your thighs once again to coax him down.
With a little bit of manoeuvring and shifting, Arthur went where you directed, lying in the grass on his back with his head propped up on your lap. The change of position knocked his beloved hat from his head and you set it carefully on his chest once Arthur had settled himself.
Again, you beamed down at him, Arthur gazing up at you and clearly unsure of what to make of the position. Hoping to ease him and get him to finally relax, you carded a hand through his sandy hair and bent to give him a gentle yet fleeting kiss.
That seemed to get him to relax. He went lax against you, visibly melting into the ground below. It probably wasn’t very comfortable for Arthur, and you knew with a little more effort you could have done better – got him into a real bed – but it was enough for the time being. You continued your ministrations on his hair, alternating your gaze between the calmness of the lake and the now equally serene face of your love.
“How ‘bout you take a nap, sweetness?” You suggested. Arthur blinked his eyes open from where they’d slid shut. He mulled over the idea.
“’M not usually one for napping…” You knew that tone. Arthur wanted to nap, but something in his mind was telling him he shouldn’t. Probably, it came from a desire to ensure that you were alright and not bored in his company. Did he ever put himself first?
“’S hot out…” You countered. The thrum of the summer wildlife and bugs seemed to grow louder in that instant. “Doesn’t it make you dozy?” Arthur only hummed in agreement, a noncommittal sound that usually meant that he knew you were right. You knew it was probably the best response you’d get out of him on the subject and instead decided to let the matter drop.
You continued the petting of Arthur’s hair, watching and trying to hide your satisfaction as his eyes slid closed once more. You wished you had the same drawing ability as Arthur – if only so the man could see himself the way you saw him. With his face relaxed and at peace, Arthur really did deserve to have his portrait hung up in a museum.
Perhaps you could commission something from an artist in San Denis?
A question for another time.
For now, you settled for simply watching over the man you loved, adamant that you’d protect him and this hard-won peace any way you could.