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Summer in the south was damn hot .
The sunny afternoon was quiet, the usually rowdy gang all silenced by the sticky heat. Clemens Point was a far cry from their days spent in Colter, and for a moment Arthur almost missed the snow covered mining town.
Almost.
He closed his eyes and let the sun’s warmth remind him of the benefits of the South. Leaned against the crates by his wagon, he savoured his spot propped up in the afternoon sunlight. Soon he’d abandon his post in favour of somewhere shady. But for now he simply listened to the lapping waves of Flat Iron Lake and took advantage of the rare opportunity to relax.
The sound of footsteps roused him from the edges of slumber, bringing him back to reality and its lingering humidity.
“Charles,” Arthur greeted, smiling as he peeked at the man from under the brim of his hat. “Fine afternoon, aint it?”
“Sure,” Charles dismissed. His uneasy tone made Arthur’s smile fall. “You, uh- you have a minute?”
“‘Course,” Arthur said, sitting up more and motioning for Charles to join him against the crates. “Always got time for you.”
Charles took his offer, sitting cross-legged in the grass beside him. He watched over the lake for a moment as he settled. The peaceful ease of the motion made Arthur’s heart swell.
“So,” he cleared his throat, pushing those thoughts aside. “What’s troublin’ you?”
“Got a favour to ask. A quiet favour,” Charles murmured.
“Alright,” Arthur drawled, matching Charles’ seriousness. “What’re we talkin’ here?”
“It’s, uh, it’s kind of embarrassing. I need your help getting some…some…gum. Out of my hair.”
Arthur hesitated, certain that he had misheard the man. “Gum?” he asked, turning his head to give Charles his full attention.
“Gum,” the younger sighed, though his confirmation was no longer necessary. Arthur could see the offending wad of chewing gum lodged in Charles’ long hair. He stifled a laugh, not wanting to worsen Charles’ humiliation.
“You get a little hopped up on that cocaine gum they got in town? So ” Arthur teased, ducking his head down to hide a smirk back behind his hat.
“Not quite,” Charles laughed. He knocked his knee against Arthur’s in retaliation, but the man was too pleased with the touch to mind. “It’s a long story that ends with Jack spitting his gum out as he tripped over Uncle.”
Arthur hummed, arching a brow at the mention of Uncle’s drunken lazing. “‘S a shame. Hate to see your hair go, you know how much I love it.”
“See it go?” Charles tensed, his posture becoming defensive.
“Well sure. Best way to get that out is to just cut if off,” Arthur shrugged.
“No,” Charles barked. He tore away from Arthur’s touch, the movement startling the older man.
“Ain’t nothin’ too bad, it’s happened to John a dozen times over the years. Damn boy can’t keep his mouth shut long enough to keep his gum in it I guess,” Arthur tried to soothe, confused by Charles’ reaction.
“I’m not cutting it,” he said decisively. His expression had leveled back to his usual cool, but his tone was still tense.
“Alright,” Arthur surrendered, raising his palms in defeat. “Won’t go near you with the shears. We’ll figure something out.”
He frowned as he reached for his satchel at his hip, digging around to see what he could find. He rummaged for a while, looking for some kind of solution for their predicament. Calloused fingers found a warm metal vile, the smooth brass sparking a ridiculous idea.
“Got somethin’ crazy, but it just might work,” he said. Pulling out a tube of gun oil, he was met with a wary look.
“You want to put that in my hair?”
“Sure! Gets sap of my clothes just fine, figure it’s the same. Unless you’ve got somethin’ better?”
Charles eyed the oil hesitantly. Arthur could see the acceptance behind his glare, his limited options closing in. He waited for Charles’ nod before setting to work.
Shifting forward so that Charles could sit between his legs, chest pressed against his lover’s back, he placed a kiss to the back of his head and cracked open the tube. Arthur applied a liberal amount of oil to the chew and worked to loosen the substance. Relief filled his chest as he felt Charles relax, tense posture slumping into something more comfortable.
“I know how silly it seems,” Charles spoke quietly. “I don’t remember much of my mother or her tribe outside of what I’ve already told you. But I remember how important hair was. She taught me that our hair is an extension of our thoughts and dreams. How we should always have good intentions when she would brush and braid my hair. To cut your hair means that something is ending and you are beginning anew. It’s one of the only things I still remember of her. I feel connected to her every time I care for my hair. I don’t want to lose those thoughts of her by cutting it. I don’t want to start anew without her memory.”
Arthur was somber as he worked, heavy feelings of guilt sending blood rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment of his own. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Should’a noticed something like that after months together.”
“No,” Charles interrupted. “It’s something I kept to myself. You couldn’t have known.”
They let silence fall as Arthur continued to work, patiently massaging the oil into the remaining parts of Charles’ hair. The sun beat down on their spot overlooking the lake, but neither paid any mind to the heat.
When the last of the gum was finally clear, Arthur rest his chin on a strong shoulder and wrapped his arms around Charles’ waist.
“Thank you,” the man said softly, leaning back into Arthur’s hold.
“‘Course,” Arthur dismissed. Charles turned his head to steal a kiss, hoping all of his gratitude could be felt through the simple gesture.
Arthur needed no explanation, settling in to spend the rest of the afternoon dozing in the sun.