Work Text:
I steal a few breaths
From the world for a minute
And then I'll be nothing forever
And all of my memories
And all of the things I have seen
Will be gone
With my eyes with my body with me
But me and my husband
We're doing better
It's always been just him and me, together
So I bet all I have on that
Furrowed brow
And at least in this lifetime
We're sticking together
..
And I am the idiot with the painted face
In the corner, taking up space
But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved
- Mitski 'Me and my husband'
________
Soft sunlight filtered through the forest foliage and a warm breeze rolled through the Heartlands. Arthur sat in the heart of the grasslands, pressed up against his saddle, sleeves rolled up. He had been sketching something that slowly started resembling the red yarrow and oxeye daisies covering a patch of land in front of him. A bumble bee touched down on one of them and quickly became part of the composition.
The dark blonde outlaws back fell and rose with calm, rhythmical breaths, as he furrowed his brows, intent on drawing the little animal right. He only wished he had something to color the illustrations with, so he could fully commemorate the blooms.
A while later, there was the telltale clink of someone getting off their horse. Upon registering it, Arthur turned his head, pausing in his previous activity. He was surprised to see Charles patting Taimas shoulder and pulling out a carrot from his satchel for her to snack on. He'd been so focused on drawing that he hadn't heard anyone approaching, on a horse no less.
"Shit, Charles, don't scare me like that."
Arthur swiped his left palm across his mouth, taking a deeper breath. He'd been exhausted lately, running errands for everyone, doing runs into town with the women and the like, and his biggest fear was getting caught while he was relaxing, mind scuttering about like spooked doe every time he laid down and closed his eyelids. Sketching gave him something to do, took his mind off responsibilities, only leaving the dark strokes and scratching of the pencil.
Charles removed Taimas tack and then sauntered over to him, placing the saddle on the ground before dropping to sit. His hair lay over his shoulders messily, mussed up from a hard days work and the untamed wind, which quickly picked up speed across the open plain.
"Sorry. Long day?"
"Somethin' like that..."
Charles looked around the field, taking in how peaceful it was here, before dropping his gaze to the older man's still open sketchbook and raising an inquisitive brow.
"Those daisies? They look nice."
"Ah, it's nothing, just some messy scribbles. Never been good with my hands."
"What do you mean?"
Charles' brow furrowed and he lifted his eyes to Arthur's, who couldn't quite bare meet them.
"Don't try to flatter me, Charles. My big fingers are only good for gunslingin', not.. delicate details." Those hands only ever brought carnage and sadness, gritty like sandpaper that ruined anything soft and made to be handled with care.
The younger man went to open his mouth, but Arthur turned to focus his attention on a shrub, where a songbird wagged it's tail up and down next to a similar one, jumping to and fro on the branch. Charles accepted Arthurs reluctance on the topic and got to sorting out his hair, carding his fingers through the locks from the bottom up.
After a while, Charles hit a snag, fingers catching in a huge tangle of hair at the very back of his head.
"Damn it..."
He sharply sucked in air, teeth catching on the bottom lip in concentration.
"Need some help there, partner?"
"Yes, if you would."
Arthur closed his notebook, placing it down on the grass between the saddles. He shuffled forward on his knees until he was at Charles back and placed a hand on Charles' shoulder.
"Tell me if I pull too hard, alright?"
"Alright."
The younger man placed his hands in his lap and waited patiently for Arthur to start.
He began by pushing the sides of Charles hair to the front, so they laid over his shoulders. Slowly, he tugged at the knot in the back, untangling it in small bits, while Charles just sat silently, giving no indication of being in pain.
Soon, his hair was untangled. Arthur carded his fingers through the other mans hair reverently, bringing all of it to lay back, and then started seperating it in three parts.
"What're you doing?" Charles murmured, turning his head a little to the side, as if to look at Arthur, though not putting a stop to his ministrations right away. The older man let go of the hair strands he was holding, turning Charles' head back straight with palms on the sides of his head as if he was a curious colt who needed correction.
"Sit still, will ya?"
He abided, huffing and closing his eyes, waiting for Arthur to continue.
He separated his hair again, creating three equal sections, then started lapping the sections, laying the outside ones over the previous, middle ones, with deft hands. Smoothing down the sections every once in a while, Arthur made sure no hair had fallen out of the braid while he was swapping them from one hand to the other.
Charles had seemingly relaxed, breathing slowly while wind whipped forward a few loose strands around his face, too short for the braid.
Arthur reached into his satchel, rummaging around until he found a short string, and wrapped it around the end of the braid. He finished it with a knot and a bow tie, slipping in a few oxeye daisies at the end, to cover the string, and sitting back down against his saddle.
Charles sat a short while longer, before speaking.
"Done?"
"Sure is, Charles."
The younger man moved his hand to the back of his head, feeling around for the braid. He slowly caressed it top to bottom, first feeling the details of it with his fingers, then freezing when he got to the bottom. He brought it over his shoulder to look at it. Arthur watched, as Charles reveled at the white petaled flowers that gave off a strong honey scent from their yellow middles, before turning to lean against his own saddle.
"Didn't know you can braid."
"It's nothing. Comes in handy, y'know."
"This is better than it just being 'handy'."
"Alright alright, ya caught me red handed," Arthur gave a hollow laugh "I braid the horse's hair too often. Nothing special about it, though- "
"Arthur. It takes some skill to braid like this, and your drawings are beautiful. Why do you put yourself down so?"
"'Cause I know I ain't good at nothin'."
"You're good with your hands."
"You tryin' to get fresh with me, Mister Smith?"
"You know what I meant." Charles stated, starting to get annoyed with Arthur twisting his words just to degrade himself. After a minute of silence and both men staring at the fast setting sun, he asked Arthur.
"Why?"
Arthur was braiding Ruben's mane, view to camp obscured by some trees and shrubs, when Micah sauntered towards him, oily smirk on his face.
"Well well, what do we have here, Morgan?"
"What do you want, Micah." Arthur sighed, already done with the conversation.
The blonde, shifty man pretended to pick something out of his mustache, before crossing his arms, still smirking.
"First it was your little doodles, now braids? You've really gone soft!" Micah gave a dry, mocking laugh.
"Sure you've got what it takes for our next job, sissy?"
Ruben felt the growing tension between the men and moved from one hoof to the other anxiously, throwing his neck back a bit before Arthur smoothed a hand over him, still holding a small braid in his right.
"Least I know how to do something, unlike someone I won't name." He growled.
"You should tell everyone in camp how good you are, then, I bet Dutch will be reaal impressed"
"Fuck off, Bell, 'fore I gut you and braid your bowels."
"So sensitive! I know who I'm not taking with me on the next job."
He made a sad face, rolling a fake tear with his finger down his cheek, and stalked off to bother somebody else.
"I'on' know.." 'Just hate when people tease me for it', Arthur didn't finish, but it seemed like Charles had him all figured out anyway.
"I'm not teasing you, I like the braid, Arthur. Thank you."
He puffed out an amused laugh, this time with a genuine, small smile.
"Hah.. any time."
"Yeah?" Charles smiled back in that mysterious way that Arthur couldn't quite read yet.
"Of course, can't let you walk around camp, looking like a hurricane got you before lunch!"
"Hey, now.." the bigger man warned, but still had a soft look on his face.
They sat in silence for a while, Charles watching the sunset while Arthur tried to get a bit more sketching in before darkness settled over the land, completing some orchids he'd drew days ago. Once he had to strain his eyes to see what he'd even written, Arthur put the notebook away in his satchel. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cooling, early summer air, when suddenly he felt a tentative hand smoothing over his forearm hairs.
"We should go.." the younger man said, and Arthur replied in an almost whisper.
"Yeah.."
Charles' dark eyes struck Arthur's chest like a poison tipped arrow when he turned to look at the other. It was like they had an entire conversation without saying anything and came to an agreement in a single moment. The older man's eyes flitted to his lips and Charles leaned in, breath fanning over Arthurs lips before he pressed them together. Unsure at first, he felt emboldened by Arthurs palm coming up to cradle his neck, and he deepened the kiss, both turning their heads in the opposite direction.
When they broke, Arthur looked around them, before smiling.
"Maybe we can set up camp here?"
"Yeah." Charles huffed out a laugh.
"I'll go find us some wood, cowboy."
He watched the younger man get up and head towards the tree line in search of dry firewood, newly braided hair swinging. Suddenly Arthurs mouth was full of saliva.
"You do that.."
He said as he stood. He moved their stuff to more even ground, taking out and putting down their bedrolls, then threw down matchsticks on his bedroll and patiently waited for Charles' return.