Chapter Text
Hot scorching sun beaming down. Shoulders burnt up even through his tan skin, forehead dripping with sweat and back feeling like it’s gonna break in two. This is what living in a camp feels like.
Carlos’s feet submerged in cold and relaxing water of a river that runs near the camp. Back against a boulder riddled with ants, but it doesn’t bother him. In this heat even ants get fried, he thinks. Closing his eyes he leans his head back on a boulder, throwing a hand over his eyes to block the bright light. Letting out a sigh Carlos sways his feet in the cold water, the temperature helping to cool down his sweaty body. He thinks of going for a dip, but no, it’s too close to the camp. He feels too embarrassed to undress so close to the people he shares a space with, especially when there’s some people he doesn’t like at all.
Rubbing at his face he removes his feet from the water and grabs his shoes, pulling his body up by the boulder, walking a bit down the river. Small, secluded place, fenced by big bushes and trees. The ground spotted with speckles of light, beams of it shining on a small clearance. Carlos sets his shoes by the boulder. Moving to unbutton his shirt. Letting the air hit his sweaty chest. Unbuckling his belt and removing every other piece of clothes he had on him. Gingerly folding them to set on the boulder and press it down with a rock, so the clothes won’t fly away. Now all bare he takes a step into the water, walking a bit deeper into the water he lets out a shudder as the cold, refreshing water splashes against his overheated body. Sitting down on a rock, so the water is around his chest, he lets out a sigh. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Having a moment to himself, away from the hustle and bustle of the camp. Having a bit of time to think.
That asshole. That blonde pompous asshole Caleb, with his fancy fancy words. Calling me names and teasing about the hight. I don’t care, i don’t but he is an asshole. Carlos’s hand sways side to side in the water, it always attracted him. Water and ocean. Being a sailor for a few years, getting sailor tattoos while on the ships. A nautical star on his neck, a swallow on his back and an anchor on his forearm.
Why do I even think about him that much? he doesn’t even deserve it. Yeah he is good with his revolvers but- that's about it. Spends too much thinking about how he looks. Looking like some rich city folk while barely having 2 bucks in his pocket. A sigh escaped Carlos’s mouth as he stood up to dry himself up and gather his stuff to get back. He still had to bush out his horse today, do some hoove maintenance and clean his guns. Taking a few minutes out the water to let the water droplets fall and dry out, looking at the sight. A doe walks up to drink some water from the same place Carlos just drank. For some reason deer are not that scared of him. Putting on his jeans, belt and shirt he runs a hand trough his hair, making his way back to the camp away from the place of relaxation.
Walking into the camp he finds the usual atmosphere, people laughing and drinking, Delia, the redhead they found after she stole Caleb’s purse, is playing cards with Lydia, horses grazing nearby. Walking to his tent Carlos of course notices Caleb’s tent, and Caleb inside. The blonde is busy sharpening his knife while listening to the gramophone music play.
Always acting like he’s some noble shit, pisses me off.
Grabbing a horse brush Carlos makes his way to his dapple grey thoroughbred mare Amapola. The mare recognizes Carlos walking up to her and lets out a neigh, the man chuckles and gives her muzzle a rub.
-Hola chica.
Carlos wasn't that good at English, being a sailor from Spain, but he knew enough to get by. Learning it on the ship with the British sailors. Rubbing Amapola’s neck with the brush Carlos he can’t help but think of their first meeting. After a shipwreck which brought him here, waking up with saltwater in every orifice he could imagine, disoriented and lost he saw a saddled horse by his side. Nipping on his hair. That was the same dapple gray thoroughbred. Carlos had no idea how to handle horses, or where he exactly was. Looking for his fellow sailors around just to find no one around. That horse is special to Carlos since it basically led him to the closest people to him. And it was this exact camp, those people who brought him in and nursed him back to health. Now stuck here in America with almost no way to get back. Sure he missed his home country, but with all the troubles he had there, with the law and everything else, finding a way to escape on a ship was like his fate to get there.
After tending to his horse, doing all the maintenance and patting her back he made his way back to the tent. To grab his revolver and clean it up with gun oil.
That gramophone is still playing and Calaeb ain’t even in his tent. Where is he anyways? it pisses me off.
Standing up from his cot, Carlos groans and walks to Caleb’s tent with the intention of turning off that loud thing that has been irritating him all evening. When Carlos is almost up at the gramophone he sees a shadow looming over him.
-What are you doing in my tent?- Carlos turns to see Caleb looming over him, with a full head of difference between them. Their eyes lock together.
-Music too loud - Carlos says, standing in full height as he crosses his arms, putting out his chest to seem bigger. - Pissing me off - he huffs
Caleb’s eyes are unwavering as he lands on his cot, looking at Carlos by his side.
-You could’ve just asked to make it quieter, not barge into my tent and touch my stuff as you please. - Caleb’s eyes narrow as he looks starlight into Carlos’s eyes. Letting out a huff Carlos turns away after turning off the gramophone and going into his tent. Angirly sitting at his cot to continue cleaning up the guns he needed to clean. Letting out a huff.
Next day there was a lot to do at the camp. They were moving places, closer to a big town. Carlos and Caleb were tasked to move boxes into the wagons. The two weren’t really friendly towards each other but they didn’t outwardly hate each other. If anything Caleb was fond of that small angry spaniard. They were carrying two boxes to the wagon and Carlos accidentally trips over a small root. Falling over. Seeing that Caleb lets out a hearty laugh, setting the box onto the back of the wagon.
-What you laughing at, cabrón! - Carlos says, lifting his head up to look at Caleb who is looming over him. Carlos’s knees, elbows and chest are covered in mud since the rain that passed a bit ago.
-Oh, don’t be such a silly little boy - Caleb says through his chuckles. For some reason that phrase makes Carlos’s face flush with color. He lets out a huff and stands up, brushing the dirt and mud off of his blue jeans. Looking as much away from Caleb as possible. Muttering something in Spanish under his nose as he goes to grab the box he fell with and carry it onto the wagon. After he sets the last box Carlos says.
-Going to wash myself. -Walking out of the camp. They had till next morning so he had some free time after gathering up the camp’s supplies. Going to his empty cot to grab a change of clothes and disappear into the woods. His face flushed, his lower abdomen tight as he curses under his breath about that Caleb.
What a moron, making fun of me, Idiot. Calling me silly little boy. Urgh!
After reaching the secluded place he visited a bit ago Carlos stripped out of his clothes and got into the water. Grabbing his dirty pants with him to rinse them off of mud. Still muttering about Caleb.
Why is he even calling me names like that? that is stupid. Silly little boy?? Carlos lets out a groan. Rubbing his face with a groan he finishes rinsing his dirty clothes off and sets them on a rock to dry out, walking back into the nice cold water to relax. and have a nice soak in the cooling water. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back. With closed eyes and letting his hand wander as he has a moment to himself.
Silly little boy pfft. What a stupid way to call a grown man.