A Damned Fool - Charthur
- "Arthur, you damn fool!"
Charles laughs, cuffing Arthur on the shoulder with an audible thwap. They're trading stories of the past, Arthur telling him about his and Hosea's escapades. The 'good old days' as he had put it. Charles nods in agreement.
He takes a gaze around at the dank and dim bar they've landed themselves in. With his vision swirling, he's sure the only reason they haven't left is because neither of them can find their legs. Speaking of, where is this? Valentines, Strawberry maybe Saint Denis? Charles couldn't care less of the location, as long as he was there.
Before he knows it, Arthur has his hand on his. Maybe it's the alcohol, but he's sure he sees something stirring in the striking eyes of the blonde. Confused, they sit there, gazing at eachother, up and down, and then he realizes that his hand is on Arthur's shoulder still. Flustered, he goes to pull his hand back, but the other man squeezes it tight to himself. His hand is warm, rough. "Yeah, well, you love me for it." He whispers, eyes searching his. Charles hums, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
- "You're a damn fool, Arthur."
Charles growls. They're hip to hip, chest to chest in some paddock in the middle of nowhere.
Their shadows dance in the lantern light, as does the stars, paving their bodies in a brilliant white glow. Arthur hefts his leg out from under him and swing his hips and Charles comes crashing down into the soft dirt, sputtering and cursing, a breathy chuckle making it out of him before Arthur's lips are on his and he feels himself relax into his touch. He feels the blonde pull back and he grabs the back of his head, gripping his hair. Arthur bucks into him and moans into his mouth, sending shivers down his spine. And then he pulls away, finds the arm Arthur's propping himself up on and pulls it out from under him. With a panicked shout, Arthur collapses onto his side and Charles closes the gap between them, pressing himself in close to him. He groans, hearing Arthur respond in earnest. Arthur cups the sides of his face, rolling his thumbs along his scars, sighing heavily.
"And you love me for it." He rasps, meeting his lips once again.
- “You’re a damn fool.”
Charles quietly hums into his hair, gentle enough that Arthur knows not to take it to heart. He feels Arthur tighten in his embrace, turning to look Charles over, a soft smile registering on his face. Arthur turns his journal over in his hands, mulling it all over.
“And you love me for it.” He says right back, like clockwork.
- “You’re a damn fool!”
Charles snaps, holding onto his hand like one would a lifeline. He knew there was something wrong, he saw the odd sickly blush that had began to settle on Arthur’s face, the shallow black rings under his eyes. The sleepless nights and the heaviness in his voice. The cough.
Arthur’s eyes narrow slowly, and Charles feels betrayed when he pulls his hand from his. He hopes his words scare him, right back into his arms, but then Arthur whistles for his horse. With a painful wheeze, he pulls himself into the saddle with some effort, looking down at Charles, hurt. “And you love me for it.” Arthur laments, before he sets the reins hard into the opposite direction and his horse turns, shooting off back down the path, in chase of the gang.
- “Arthur, you damn fool.” Charles rasps into his bloodied hair. He’s on his knees, arms wrapped around his midsection tightly. Arthur is barely moving, smelling of the cliff and pine, of gun smoke and char. Arthur wrings an appreciative arm around his waist.
His sickly blush is gone, and in it’s place is a deathly pale.
Charles had heard rumours of things going south, he saw it too. He remembers the nights before where he had told him, had fought with him over his loyalty, that it would be his downfall.
Though his teeth are locked, a sob breaks out and he’s tightening his hold, scared that if he stopped, if he let go, he’d risk feeling Arthur crumble, see the light in his eyes falter and fail.
“And you loved me for it.” Arthur smiles. It's faint and his teeth are stained red.
"I do Arthur, I do." He whispers. Arthur chuckles, hand raised to glide over Charles' cheek. He breathes in, like he's going to say something else, staring into his eyes, his mouth formed like the words will roll off of his tongue, any second now.
And his mouth goes slack. His hand stiffens, drops and Charles redirects it back to his cheek. His eyes narrow and lose focus on him. His ragged breathing softens, the silence long and heavy inbetween each short gasp.
Charles doesn't blink, doesn't talk. Doesn't move.
He keeps his eyes on Arthur, waiting. Just waiting.
Arthur's trembling lip goes still, his fingers stop twitching. His eyes focus on Charles again.
His chest heaves, trying hard to get something, anything in. Charles puts a hand on him and shakes his head softly. "I love you, you stubborn old fool." He grovels and a ghost of a smile shifts over Arthur's face, the hard lines on his cheeks softening, before his chest finally stills and his eyes lose focus; one last time.
