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Charles’ eyelids felt like anchors sinking through muddy water.
The inside of the tent was humid and hot. It wasn’t like Charles hadn’t gotten used to the heavy Lemoyne heat in the past weeks, but sharing a bedroll with an Arthur-shaped furnace did make the nights even warmer than usual. It also didn’t help that Charles had his arms around the bare torso of his best friend, partner, and what it would seem like for now, his lover. In his hopes at least.
He hugged Arthur a little tighter.
His chest was heavy in a way it never had been, not before these months shared with Arthur. The feeling in him — albeit warm and curious — still lacked a sense of certainty, not having made a proper home for itself yet. He and Arthur hadn’t put words to this. Charles had never put words to anything like this, and maybe he lacked the ability to. And trying was not an option either, because what if he messed it up? It would mean an end to this, to being able to lie next to Arthur like this… And losing this scared him more than he wanted to admit.
Rough kisses, rushed getaways, nights in the woods away from camp. All of it too urgent and secret and stressful, and all of it so real. Charles didn’t want to seem like he was ashamed. Arthur seemed like he was.
Arthur sniffled, and Charles frowned at the noise. He didn’t know if it was a recent development or something that had been happening for a while — Arthur clearly had had some troubles with his airways as long as he and Charles had been sleeping together like this, but that often was the case with people who inhaled a handful of different types of smoke on a daily basis. Something about it made Charles cautious, though. Even if it was normal, it wasn’t something he liked to hear in a man of Arthur’s age and stamina.
Arthur took a shivering breath and two, pushing the air forcefully out in between. Charles could feel Arthur shifting, turning his head, most likely checking if he was awake. Charles made sure to keep his eyes closed and body relaxed, his breathing as even as he could, and after a few beats, Arthur carefully extracted himself from Charles’ arms and got up.
Something about the movement was too thought out to be routine. This was not his regular getting up in the middle of the night to take a leak exit, but Charles felt like he should give the man a little privacy. He listened as Arthur pulled on his jeans and boots, clearly trying to be as quiet as he could while being in this odd sudden hurry, and finally exited the tent with a held-back, shaky sigh. He left behind only a cold, empty spot between Charles’ arms.
For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, something about the whole thing filled Charles with sudden distress. He curled up, taking a few calming breaths, and slowly his confused, knotted thoughts unraveled.
Arthur had been a little odd before, quiet during the evening and quiet during their shared time on the bedroll. There had clearly been something troubling on his mind, but Charles hadn’t pressed him about it. And now…
Pulling on his boots in the middle of the night.
Perhaps this had been it.
Charles sat up, swallowing with difficulty, brushing away his hair that fell in front of his face. If Arthur didn’t want this, he would certainly say so. There was strength in that man, not just in terms of physicality, but also in terms of his wants and needs. He wasn’t afraid of voicing his thoughts and feelings, nor did he hold back on his opinions — when he wasn’t around Dutch, that was. That was something Charles didn’t yet know how to process, or address for that matter. It was a crack, a bend he didn’t like to see. For all his strength, there was something so fragile in Arthur as well, something that Charles feared would shatter under enough pressure.
He had seen Arthur in various states. Not only in all the states of undress, but in so many states of being as well. It was one of those things that made Charles so overwhelmed when it came to Arthur. Never knowing what mood the man was going to be in. How he was gonna behave, or what they would be doing.
Back when he’d first joined the gang, he had thought he had Arthur figured out after a few weeks of knowing him. To have seen everything the tough facade of an outlaw tried to hide. But time and time again he had been proved wrong. There was always more – maybe something new, or maybe Arthur just was in the habit of hiding who he really was, letting the truth slip out little by little. Whatever it was, Arthur kept pulling the mask back up over and over again, even after all these months. Just like Charles, he seemed unable to settle into this relationship with the comfort and security they should’ve had.
That was the scariest part, really. Arthur seemed like he wanted this. He had said it so multiple times with his actions, his kisses, his eager hands, and his smiles only meant for Charles. Never said it out loud, though.
Just like Charles never had. But he— Arthur knew Charles had difficulties voicing that kind of stuff. Of letting people that deep in, whereas Arthur opened up much more easily. So Charles waited and waited, and wondered, and feared, and couldn’t get the feelings out himself.
And now, perhaps Arthur had finally had enough of— of waiting. Of whatever this was between them, because they’d never worded it to each other.
Charles squeezed his eyes tightly shut and sucked in a breath, as if bracing himself for the impact. Arthur was in the habit of gathering his belongings and leaving for days. Maybe this was one of those moments. He had never done so without telling Charles beforehand, but there was a possibility, perhaps a small one but it existed, that Charles didn’t even deserve a goodbye in kind words like I’ll miss you . A confirmation of what they were to each other. Whatever they were.
He opened his eyes, gave himself a mental shake, and got up slowly. His own spend, and Arthur’s, had dried on his trail of hair leading down from his navel. Charles made a face as he ghosted a finger over it — cleaning up hadn’t felt important earlier, drifting off with Arthur in his arms had certainly been a more pressing matter than wiping the spend off when it would’ve still come off easily. Now it was too late, and he’d need to go wash in the river.
The grimace slipped off as he stared at their dried spend, his heart first filling with something precious that then morphed into dread. What if this was the last time? The end of this… state of existing together in a shared closeness?
Charles took a deep inhale, shook his head, and followed Arthur’s example of pulling on his pants and boots. He scooted out of the small tent, the cold night air making him shiver after the steaming warmth of the tent. Some tightness of his throat eased up as he spotted Arthur’s horse dozing next to Taima, and he felt even more relief upon seeing Arthur sitting by the creek some 30 feet out, back to him. He wasn’t wearing his hat and as Charles quietly got closer, he could see the man’s shoulders were shaking. He clearly hadn’t intended to settle where he was sitting; the dry undergrowth was all messed up and there was a small pile of dirt at the bottom of the slope at Arthur’s feet. Slipped and fallen on his ass in the dark, not bothering to get up.
“You okay?” Charles asked before getting too close to announce his presence. Arthur had jabbed at him for “always sneaking around, scarin’ the hell outta innocent fellers”.
Arthur looked frozen in place at first, but after a moment nodded stiffly and slowly turned his head towards Charles, who took the final few steps to stand next to him. Without waiting for an invitation, Charles crouched down and folded his legs in front of him for a more comfortable position. Digging around his pockets, he found his pack of cigarettes and a matchbox. Taking one cigarette out and placing it between his lips, Charles scraped a match with his boot heel and lit the roll of tobacco.
Without looking at the other man, he held out a single cigarette in his left hand. Arthur hummed, reaching for it. Their hands touched briefly, and Charles could feel Arthur flinching. The man proceeded to pat down his pockets, but the search wasn’t fruitful.
“...Got some light?” Arthur mumbled, voice hoarse and barely there, lips moving around the unlit cigarette. Charles turned to face him, cautiously reaching out with his right hand before touching Arthur’s jaw, leading the unlit cigarette butt to meet his own. Securing his own cigarette in his mouth with his free hand, he inhaled to keep it alight while Arthur sucked in on his own.
Charles could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, and only raised his to meet the gaze after the cigarette was burning properly. They stared at each other in silence for a long while, Charles still holding onto Arthur’s face with a firm but gentle touch, scrutinizing him with care. Arthur’s eyes looked red, but that could’ve been a trick of light under the foliage. His lips were tight around the cigarette, tighter than was necessary, his breathing irregular and shallow. His strong, stubble-covered jaw was tense under his touch and there was the smallest tremble in it.
Charles let go of him slowly. Arthur turned his watery gaze back to the creek, lifting a hand to stroke the spot where Charles’ hand had just been.
His fingers were shaking.
As they smoked in silence, the forest around them was waking for the night. Time seemed inconsequential in the dark, only marked by the burn of the cigarettes in their mouths. As much as they were in the same space, Charles thought they could’ve as well been strangers to each other right then, unfamiliar to each other in that moment, separated by a heavy curtain of contemplation.
Arthur, it felt, was barely keeping himself together. There was something he was biting back, his breathing sharp and accentuated as he inhaled through his nose with force, blowing it all out through his mouth. Pausing in between the breaths to hold steady. He was still shaking.
Charles had seen this in men before, a… state of madness of sorts. He’d felt it himself too. Hadn’t seen it in Arthur before, not quite like this, but echoes of it along the way. He could vividly remember the rainy afternoon when he’d seen Arthur almost beat a man to death on a muddy street in Valentine, seemingly triggered by having been called pretty. He’d seen Arthur strangle a man, just because Charles had asked. He’d seen Arthur drunk out of his mind. Gone for days and coming back without having slept at all. Gambling away his money. Pulling a gun on a stranger out of the blue.
Getting so emotional from a beautiful sunset he couldn’t speak for hours, gasping for words and then burying himself into his journal, blocking everything else out.
He’d seen Arthur writing a letter over and over again, crumbling the paper up before having a nervous, furious smoke, doing it all over again in a repetitive dance for one entire night. It had been a pathetic rendering of a theater show, though Charles had not been able to pinpoint a reason for it — until the next day, when Arthur had put on his best clothes and disappeared, and the girls told Charles he had gone to see his fiancée . An ex-fiancée, but nevertheless. Charles had felt a pang inside him, having just been kissed by Arthur two nights prior.
One of those actions must’ve been a bout of madness, but which one? Perhaps Charles had been but a temporary character, allowed to occupy Arthur’s bed until Arthur felt… distanced enough from his previous relationship. Charles couldn’t tell what it would feel like, to lose a connection to an important person like that. Arthur was his first. In so many more ways than one. So perhaps upon losing such a person, one would feel inclined to fill their mind and bed with someone else until the biggest heartbreak faded away?
Although, if he were to lose Arthur now… Charles didn’t think he’d ever, ever in his life look at another person again.
Before spiraling into further anxiety, Charles reminded himself that he could only guess the reason behind Arthur’s current lapse of sanity. He wished he knew better how to help, but he only knew that controlling breathing helped, but Arthur was already doing that. Other than that, Charles felt like he could only share the unnamed pain for the moment. He wanted to be there for Arthur, but did not know how much he was needed or wanted in this space. Charles himself had never had a bout of this madness with other people present; he had no idea whether Arthur would let himself be touched, and so he didn’t try.
At least for now, Arthur let him be there and there Charles remained, quietly keeping an eye on the dark forest at the other side of the creek, listening to Arthur’s disjointed breathing, and how it gradually got calmer.
Eventually, there was a shift of movement from the man, an intake that sounded more controlled than the ones before.
“...Ain’t been like this with no one else,” Arthur spoke, his voice down in such a low register it could’ve as well been gravel under a heel. Charles tilted his head and let his eyes trail to Arthur. The man was looking down at his dirt-covered boots.
Arthur didn’t continue, and Charles let out a small noise, prompting. Hoping Arthur would know that there were no requirements to actually go on further than that.
“...You know. All, continuing like,” Arthur lifted his gaze, looking nervous. “Whatever it is we… are.”
If only Charles could put it to words somehow, that to him they were everything. This, this was everything.
He was at a loss for words. He shared the sentiment, having told Arthur so the first time Arthur had grabbed his belt and started all this. He had been so unsure if Arthur would want him, Charles being as inexperienced as he was… and it hadn’t been the only time. Never done this — never done that. Never tried that, never done this twice. I didn’t know I liked that. I didn’t know anyone could like this.
Charles was often plagued by uncertainty regarding their closeness. What kind of a man, well into his thirties, had never experienced this? Never having kissed anyone before Arthur closed the distance between their lips, never put his mouth on another, never had… had anyone. And Arthur had gone through all that with him. He had seemed so sure of what he wanted himself. Asking and guiding, discovering things as well. But now— it seemed Arthur was just as much at a loss here as Charles was.
It was a refraction Charles hadn’t yet seen. The light he had tried to pour into Arthur wasn’t going through, not reflecting in the way that he had expected and hoped. Somehow, whatever Charles was trying his best to give to Arthur, got lost inside the man, getting muddy and blurred in the process. Maybe Charles had never been as clear in his giving as he had thought.
“Ain’t never done nothing with no one more than once,” Arthur continued, stubbing the cigarette into the ground, blowing out the last of the smoke. “Let alone… done more than… y’know.”
Charles thought he knew. The things they did might’ve been considered ten different types of sin, so it was hard to pinpoint what exactly Arthur was referring to. It was weeks since Charles had properly had Arthur for the first time, a first for them both laying with a man like one does with a woman. The timing of this small breakdown didn’t make sense if it was about that.
“You think I’m rotten, don’t you?” Arthur laughed a bit, “Asking for the things I do.” Not a question. Not a joke, either.
Arthur inhaled another sharp breath, a hint of that panicked quality creeping back into it. Charles scrambled to find something to say, anything to make Arthur feel better. To make him breathe easy again.
“You know I don’t think that way, Arthur,” he murmured softly, thankful his own rising anxiety didn’t show yet. He understood where Arthur was coming from. He felt the exact same, but thought it too mean to voice it out loud. He had been under the assumption that Arthur would say if he didn’t want this. He must have known Charles would say it if he didn’t want this. Arthur— he had to be simply seeking a reaction, a confirmation to his unraveled state.
Arthur turned to face Charles fully, holding the eye contact. There was fear in his eyes, different from how folk often looked at him weird or with fear. Arthur wasn’t afraid of him, but more of him getting up and leaving. Laughing at the question. Not taking him seriously.
Charles stared back, taking in his friend. Arthur’s shirt was open, suspenders hanging freely. His chest was broad and hairy, an inclination of what lay underneath his clothes, just as beautifully sculpted as the rest of his body. Charles had never been so attracted to anyone in his whole life. And his face… Charles knew he could look at him for the rest of his life, easily, and he wouldn’t grow bored. Bright blue eyes, seemingly younger than the rest of the man, creases where his smile had made its home on his handsome features, freckles indicating where the sun had blessed his face, and scars to map out his rough life. Charles wanted to see that face changing with age. Changing states.
Charles was filled to the brim with a feeling he had never felt, but it must’ve been love. This was what the stories were about, right? But he wasn’t a man in a story, and neither was Arthur.
They had two coarse, broken lives they were trying to fit together for the time being. Or that was what Charles had so far believed, despite all his feelings. If it was meant just for the time being, why would Arthur be so afraid of Charles getting up and walking away?
“I want a dog with you,” Arthur blurted out, right as Charles reached that contradiction of a thought.
He blinked. Looked for jest in Arthur’s face, a sign he was being toyed with, but couldn’t find any. A… a dog?
“A dog?” Charles said in confusion, “There’s already Cain.”
Arthur’s shoulders dropped and Charles immediately knew it’d been the wrong answer, as it so often was, but this time it felt like a nail in the coffin. Charles could feel threads of panic shooting through his spine and again he found himself scrambling for something to say, wanted so desperately to make it better, but anything he might’ve got out got stuck in his throat. Fear squeezed his lungs; as often as he gave wrong answers, as often he botched things up trying to fix his sayings, only leading to worse outcomes. What if he said the wrong thing again, and Arthur— Arthur would simply get up and leave?
“No, I mean,” Arthur took a rattling breath, picking on some loose threads on his jeans. His fingers, still shaking. “I used to have this dog, Copper,” a beat, and a second one, “...He was everything to me.”
Arthur looked at him then, his gaze sharp, meaningful, imploring Charles to— to understand? Understand that…
It came in like a punch in the gut, and Charles could feel his mouth fall open, unable to gather his composure like he normally could. It wasn’t about what Arthur was saying, it was about what he was not saying. He used to have a dog. He used to have security, continuity. He used to have a home that was another being.
I want a dog with you
It was a promise that Arthur was extending out. A way of offering that home and security to Charles, and equally a way of asking it for himself.
Charles jumped to kiss Arthur.
Their mouths met, Arthur making a surprised sound against him. Charles wasn’t the one to usually initiate the kisses, carefully considering his moves, letting Arthur take the lead in the fear of messing things up, of making the wrong move at the wrong time. Now he was practically climbing onto Arthur’s lap to straddle his hips, Arthur’s left hand passing over Charles’ bare stomach, fingers twitching as it found the dried fluid under his navel. That prompted a burst of laughter from Arthur, a sound that sent something warm shooting up Charles’ stomach, curling into his chest and remaining there.
Arthur continued laughing breathlessly into the kiss, his tense body relaxing as Charles kissed him with more force to shut him up. Hands trailed up Charles’ thighs, groping them, reminding Charles just how strong he was. His hum turned into a moan and he wrapped his arms around Arthur, caressing his back, his hair, ending up cradling his face as his tongue tasted Arthur’s mouth. Arthur moaned in response.
Arthur grabbed Charles’ biceps and gently applied pressure, making Charles break the kiss and lean back in Arthur’s lap. They breathed in unison, trying to catch the air they had so adamantly denied each other just a brief moment ago.
“Please, tell me you want to get a dog with me,” Arthur breathed, urgent and near-begging, desperate in the way he looked at Charles for confirmation, hands clutching at Charles’ biceps. Charles’ heart skipped a beat. Every fiber of himself wanted to scream yes yes yes at Arthur, but something in him still hesitated, tried warning him that it was a bad idea. Tying himself to another. Especially after having known him for such a short while... Constantly discovering new states of him, never knowing what was the real one instead of just passing.
Despite the ongoing fight within him, Charles laughed. It was so… Arthur. Such a big question, a big reveal dressed up as something mundane. He was asking for them to adopt a dog. He wanted Charles to say I’m not leaving. And at the same time, he was saying something so much bigger. Confessing something Charles hadn’t even dared to hope to hear from the man.
“I— I know I’m asking for something I know damn well we can’t have,” Arthur said, still watching him, hope and yearning and lust and fear in his expression, and Charles wanted so much to own all those states of Arthur for now, and forever. “And— and it’s stupid to ask you this. Reckless.” Arthur went to hide his face under the brim of his hat, but wasn’t wearing it — and this, Charles thought, was who Arthur really was. Without walls or— or an outlaw’s mask covering his face. Opening up himself and his dreams to Charles. What he was really asking was if Charles wanted the same. A shared life... Or, a first step, something… more official. Not just letting out steam, even though the kisses had never felt like that.
“I… have seen you reckless, Arthur,” Charles said, avoiding answering the initial question. “But you wouldn’t be reckless in matters like this, would you?”
Their eyes met.
“I don’t think I would,” Arthur said slowly, quietly.
Writing letters, again and again, crumbling them. Putting on his best clothes. Considering, wondering, not asking for what he wanted. Asking too late. Charles had seen all that for someone else, but this was not a repetition of those steps. It was clear which one of the acts had been a madness. A passing state.
It felt a little like Arthur wasn’t taking any chances here. As if he was so adamant about being with Charles, of staying with him, that even if Charles responded negatively and broke things off, he was ready to put aside his fear and ask.
For a goddamn dog.
Charles bit back a smile, fondness blooming in his chest.
“I’ll think about it.”
That could have sounded like a deflection, but there was a small smile on Arthur’s face, and Charles thought he understood. That for the first time, they both properly did.
They leaned into another kiss, two, and Charles stopped counting after that.
***
Charles woke up with his back pressed to Arthur’s front, the man’s right arm hugging him. He could feel Arthur was awake from the slight shifting, the uneven breaths, and— oh. The hard length that was pressing against Charles’ behind. Charles couldn’t help his mouth spreading into a lopsided grin.
“—How long’ve you been up?” he asked, voice rough with sleep. He shifted slightly, pressing intently against Arthur’s morning wood to get a reaction out of him, and was rewarded when a noise escaped the man, his arm around Charles twitching.
“Jus’ woke up”, Arthur grunted while pulling back his own hips to escape the needy and teasing motion. Only, Charles’ arm slung back to hold him in place.
Charles snorted in delight at the— the squeak Arthur let out and started grinding against the hardness at his back.
There was shifting and a rustle from behind him. Arthur grabbed Charles’ hips, starting to answer the grinds sloppily, movement still thick with drowsiness. Charles, feeling more impatient and equally a lot more carefree than usual, performed a maneuver that he recognized was way too graceful for the early dawn, and flipped himself to face Arthur. Arthur had time to make a face and groan in protest and disbelief before Charles crashed their lips together, morphing the groan into an amused chuckle that soon was muffled by the kiss. And the second one — and the rest.
Arthur eventually pulled back with a laugh, the sound low, soft and happy.
“You make me a lucky man, you know that, Charles?” he said and without waiting for an answer gave Charles a long, desperate kiss that made Charles’ toes curl and eyes roll to the back of his head.
“The state you have me in, you don’t rightly know—” Arthur gasped and delved right back into it, sucking Charles’ tongue into his mouth, calloused fingers ghosting over the dried semen that still remained on his trail of abdomen hair. Charles’ vision nearly whited out.
Ultimately Arthur granted him mercy in the form of a breathing break, and feeling like he was coming back to earth after a religious experience of sorts, Charles felt something in his head click. He was intimately aware of the way his blood was rushing through his veins, how his heart was beating so strongly and surely, as if to say that this was where he belonged, this was the one place he could exist in without hesitation. Like being locked in with Arthur made his whole system — him — work like he was supposed to.
He opted for a hum and a smile and delved right back in, burying his hands in Arthur’s hair and never wanting to resurface from this feeling.
After exchanging what felt like a thousand kisses, Charles pulled back to rest his forehead against Arthur’s. He met Arthur’s eyes, feeling like for the first time in his life he was seeing someone with complete clarity, without the muddled red of worry in the way. He smiled.
“I want that dog with you.”
Arthur stared at him, his mouth slowly splitting into the widest and most beautiful of smiles Charles had ever seen, and pulled him into a deep, deep kiss.