@wizardddads from here
Arthur didn’t know whose blood he was covered in, he was more concerned with how his wife was. They had lost Fred. Maybe he was covered in Fred’s blood; it had all got muddled together. His thoughts were disjointed and he could only just make out Charlie’s voice. His second eldest son was holding a damp cloth out towards him and then he felt the wetness against his skin. He flinched at the touch.
‘Charlie,’ was all Arthur could say; he wanted to be strong for his family like he always was. Carefully, Arthur took the cloth and wiped his hands clean.
‘Are you…’ okay? Could he really ask his son if he was okay after what had happened? After their family had changed forever?
"No," Charlie answered the unspoken question simply, like the wan statement of fact didn't mean anything. ( And, well....it didn't, did it. Nothing he felt was going to change their situation. )
He was watching his father's hands maybe a little too closely —avoiding his eyes,— and he didn't miss the tremor as he moved... He'd seen him wince, too, though, so he didn't move to take the cloth back yet. "You should..." He trailed off for a moment, shifting.
It was just falling futilely back on familiar habits to try to take care of anyone now. And he wasn't unaware that he'd picked this up from his dad, anyhow.
"Y'have to rub your face off some, I can't see what there is under all that."