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Everything in sight, from the blinding sun, to the wind messing with his hair, the bees zipping around his ankles, their buzzing overwhelming, everything, all of it, is getting on his nerves.
He woke up badly, a nightmare he couldn’t remember, after an uncomfortably cold night for the late summer, unprepared for it, having not gotten out any blankets.
Nothing seems to be helping his mood.
His coffee seemed more bitter than usual, he couldn’t stomach the thought of gooey, gritty porridge for breakfast,
Now he was just trying to avoid everyone so he didn't say anything he'd regret in his irritation.
"Hey, Arthur."
And Arthur turns to see Charles leaning against a tree, sharpening his knives.
He hadn't expected anyone this far from camp.
"... Hey."
"Nice day," Charles says conversationally but there's something questioning about his tone and Arthur wonders if he's been too obvious.
"Yeah," Arthur says then clears his throat quietly, a bit embarrassed.
"You wanna ride out with me?" Charles asks, lifting the knife for emphasis, "Was thinking about going fishing."
"You want me to come?"
"Sure."
"I ain't all that great at fishin'."
Charles shrugs then gestures back at camp.
"Why don't you go tack up if you wanna? I'll meet you in about fifteen minutes."
Arthur hesitates then nods, turning back towards camp to do just that.
--
Charles catches twice as many fish as him but they both mostly catch juveniles and toss them back.
Arthur sighs roughly after reeling in, walking a bit back from the shore, sitting down on the dirt.
"Tired?"
"Yeah," Arthur mutters, "You could say that."
Rubbing his face and willing his eyes to stay open.
“You could rest,” Charles offers quietly, reeling in and turning towards Arthur, “If you need to.”
“I really ain’t that great at fishin’,” Arthur says then has to cover his mouth as he yawns.
“Here,” Charles murmurs, walking over and offering a hand to Arthur, nodding towards a big oak tree, “Get out of the sun first.”
“I don’t need a nap,” Arthur grumbles but he lets Charles pull him up, “We should be getting back and-”
“No one will suffer for you to get some rest, Arthur.”
Arthur stares at the younger man for a moment then averts his gaze when he feels too exposed.
He could’ve sworn he’d locked his covers closed and yet Charles has no issue prying him open and reading him plainly.
Charles’ hand is still in his, gently squeezing before letting go and Arthur follows the younger man to the big oak, watching as Charles sets his things down and sits himself in the cool dirt, shaded by the tree.
There’s a gentle breeze rustling the leaves above them, but it’s too early to have to worry about any of the budding acorns falling.
Arthur slowly lowers himself to sit next to Charles.
“Are you not sleeping?” Charles asks, rather bluntly and Arthur presses his lips together.
Charles, since he joined, has been direct, getting right to the point rather than speaking around it.
“Not… Not really.”
“If you wanna,” Charles says softly, gesturing between them, “I’ll stay here.”
“... I’m sure I’d be fine if you wanted to head on-”
“Arthur, I’m offering.”
“... Yeah, I know.”
There’s a tense stretch of silence between them before Arthur sighs and scoots down, tugging off his vest and bundling it up to shove behind his head.
Pulling off his hat and holding it to the side, staring up into the limbs and leaves of the tree.
“You know, I figured out why you’re so quiet,” Arthur mutters, “S’cause you’re busy listenin’ n’ watchin’.”
“... Something like that,” Charles says quietly, a little amused that Arthur sounds put-out by him being observant, “Does that bother you?”
“... You ever hear too much?”
“Of course.”
“From me?”
Charles glances down at him.
Slowly shaking his head.
"... Well, thank you?" Arthur murmurs uncertainly, "For this."
"You seemed… Very irritated."
"Nah, I mean- It's nothin' big or important, hell we're in a nice place, plenty food I'm just… Y'know."
"I do," Charles says softly, leaning back against the tree and sighing, "I needed this as well."
"Really?" Arthur blinks up at the side of the younger man's face.
"I'm just not as obvious as you are, Arthur."
Arthur swallows and stares back up at the branches, mulling over the implications of that.
"Maybe I ain't quiet 'nough."
Charles huffs a gentle laugh and Arthur watches the shadows moving through the leaves until he's struggling to keep his eyes open.
Nudging his knuckles against Charles' thigh before giving in, closing his eyes.
"Don't let me sleep too long."
"Sure."
--
He smells wood smoke when he wakes up and it has him sitting up quickly.
Camps on fire again he's gotta make sure everyone's awake and no one gets hurt and the fire's put out and-
"Arthur," Charles says quietly from his left and Arthur looks over at the younger man bathed in golden firelight, a small pit dug into the soft dirt, just out from under the tree.
Arthur clears his throat a little awkwardly, glancing around in the dim, dusk lighting.
"Shit," Arthur rubs at his chin, "Thought I said somethin' 'bout not lettin' me sleep too-"
"You needed it."
"Yeah, maybe, but that ain't fair to you and we gotta-"
"Arthur," Charles huffs, getting frustrated with the older man's lack of care for himself.
It's a bizarre feeling, having to reckon with wanting to help Arthur since he's realized the older man won't help himself.
"Yeah, well now what? You wanna camp out here?" Arthur drops his hands and thumps back down onto the ground, "Dunno if I can sleep now that-"
"Then cut down a tree and build yourself a boat," Charles says, a little rougher than he intends, "Surely you could find something to occupy yourself that isn't running everyone else's errands along with yourself into an early grave."
Arthur's quiet for a long moment and Charles is just a bit scared to look up.
Uncertain whether he'll see offense or anger on Arthur's sleepy face.
"Wow," Arthur mumbles then huffs a small laugh, "Alright."
"I'm-"
"Nah, no. Don't," Arthur swallows and wipes his eyes with one sleeve cuff, "You're right."
"I am."
"Hey," Arthur rolls his eyes and lifts them to look at Charles, "I thought you were 'bout to apologize."
"Maybe."
"Only maybe?"
"Only maybe," Charles echoes softly, rubbing over his shin and shaking his head with a sigh.
Arthur’s lips twitch into a smile and he looks around again before heaving himself up with a grunt and walking over to where their horses are hitched, stroking over Bo’s flank before digging in the saddlebags.
“You hungry?” Arthur calls back over his shoulder as he pulls out a waxed bag and a cotton one.
“I could eat.”
Arthur plops himself down next to Charles, crossing his legs and handing one of the bags to the younger man while he opens the other.
Sticking the end of one piece of jerky in his mouth and looking up at Charles.
Who’s watching him, silent, his expression soft.
Charles pulls out a dark fruit from the cotton bag and peers at it before grabbing his knife from the sheath on his hip and slicing.
Peeling apart the sticky halves of the dried black fig and holding one out to Arthur.
Arthur stares for a second then unclenches his teeth around the jerky, holding it idly in one hand while he accepts the fig with the other.
Uncertain as to why this feels so important.
Charles bites into the fruit with a small hum of enjoyment.
“Sweet,” The younger man murmurs.
“Yeah-” Arthur says hoarsely between bites, “Don’t find ‘em often but always try n’ get some when I do.”
“Well… Thank you for sharing,” Charles looks at him sideways, reaching over and snagging Arthur’s handkerchief from the older man’s front pocket while Arthur just blinks, chewing.
There’s something teasing about Charles’ expression and Arthur feels himself flustering, his heart pumping faster, face heating.
“What would I hear from you?” Charles asks quietly, studying the older man closely.
“What?”
“If I heard too much, from you, what would it be?”
“... Charles, if I’ve made you uncomfortable- I- Ah, I’m sorry-”
“I’m just curious.”
Arthur stares, looking for any hint of malice or ill-intent but Charles is calm and open.
“... About my preferences, I suppose.”
Charles’ eyes drop down to the bag of figs, then back up to Arthur’s nervous expression.
“You should listen more,” Charles says softly, “You might hear too much from me.”
Arthur’s quiet for a moment, still staring, then his eyes widen.
“Wait, what?” Arthur sits up straighter, “You pullin’ my leg?”
Charles huffs quietly and hands over another fig half, shaking his head.
“Oh… Oh, wow,” Arthur clears his throat awkwardly and rubs at his chin with his wrist, “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do.”
They fall into relative silence, just passing pieces of fig and jerky to each other with murmured thank yous.
Arthur is staring hard at his legs before he makes the decision to move.
Turning onto his knees, slowly, watching Charles’ reaction.
But the younger man just quirks a brow at him and Arthur has to swallow down his anxiety.
“This might be really stupid,” Arthur warns quietly, “I’m sorry.”
And he leans in, not daring to touch Charles in case he’s misunderstood all of this, tilting his head sideways and pressing his lips softly to the younger man’s.
Charles hums and tucks his knife away before reaching up to cup Arthur’s nape, keeping the older man close.
“Mm, shit,” Arthur whispers, breathy and shaky, “Serious?”
“What? Why don’t you believe me?” Charles huffs and drops back, reclining on his elbows with a small frown, looking up at Arthur, “Do you want me to beg?”
“No,” Arthur says hoarsely, his eyes flicking down Charles’ body, looking at their legs as he carefully straddles Charles, “I… I’m just surprised, I guess.”
“Hm.”
“I’m not tryna…” Arthur trails off, swallowing as Charles lays back on the ground, popping the last half of fig in his mouth and licking the sweetness off his thumb, not looking away from Arthur, “Jesus, Charles.”
“Arthur.”
“Yeah?” Arthur whispers.
Charles looks up at him, then down at himself.
Back up at Arthur, his brows lightly furrowing.
“I can’t tell what I’m doing wrong here.”
Arthur blinks wildly at him and leans a bit further back.
“Nothin’, you’re not- Shit, Charles, trust me, it’s not you, it’s really not.”
“... Alright.”
“I- I’m…” Arthur closes his eyes for a moment then opens them to lower himself over Charles, hovering, “Sorry.”
“Stop being sorry,” Charles mutters, “Just do something.”
Arthur presses his lips to Charles’ again and digs his fingers into the dirt on either side of Charles’ head, shifting his hips back until his cock aligns with the younger man’s through the layers.
Charles makes another one of those soft humming sounds, pleased, his hands curling around Arthur’s hips, thumbs playing with the loops on his waistband.
Arthur’s not felt like this in a long time, wanted.
Want, he’s used to, desire, pining after things he can’t have.
The reciprocation is new though.
He groans weakly into the kiss when Charles parts his lips, kisses him deeper.
Arthur’s hips rocking lightly against the younger man.
It’s a gut-twisting good feeling.
Like Charles sharing jammy, sticky, oh so sweet figs with him, there’s a sweetness in this too.
Arthur steadies himself with one hand on Charles’ shoulder, lifting up to look at the younger man’s eyes, then down between their bodies, making a low sound at the sight.
How Charles’ pants are creasing away from the bulge of his hardness.
How his own are even more obviously straining.
“Shit,” Arthur whispers.
“Arthur,” Charles murmurs, tugging at the older man’s hips by the belt loops, “C’mon.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes.”
“I mean- Take you out, really and-”
“Arthur,” Charles bites out, “Stop being so careful with me.”
Arthur nods softly and reaches down between them, cupping Charles through the fabric and palming the younger man’s cock.
Charles groans softly and his head falls back, neck an open, inviting, vulnerable expanse of skin.
Arthur kisses, just over Charles’ adam’s apple, then down.
Until his lower lip is brushing the collar of Charles’ shirt.
He takes a moment, breathing a little heavier, listening to Charles’ stifled groans as he rubs the younger man.
Sliding his fingers up to the buttons and popping them free.
Reaching inside, doing the same with the buttons on the drawers and finally wrapping his fingers around Charles’ cock.
“Arthur,” Charles whispers, then makes a low sound, desperate, as his cock jerks in Arthur’s hand.
Arthur looks down to watch as the bead of pre-come drips over his fingers.
“... God,” Arthur murmurs, looking back up at Charles’ face, and he’s reverent, “You’re beautiful.”
Feeling his face heat when Charles lets slip a small laugh.
“‘M serious,” Arthur drops his eyes down to Charles’ chest in embarrassment but he keeps stroking the younger man’s cock.
“Thanks,” Charles says breathily, “Do you want me to-?”
“Yeah,” Arthur says, too eagerly, biting his lip and cautiously meeting Charles’ eyes again, “Please.”
Charles glances down between them just to get his bearings then slides his hand to cup the front of Arthur’s crotch, the older man rocking into the touch with a groan.
Squeezing in return when Charles starts palming him.
“Damn-” Arthur bites out, dropping his face to Charles’ shoulder as the younger man gets a hand around him.
Both of them breathing too loudly in the middle of the clearing, warmed by the fire and exposed to the night sky.
“Can I?” Charles whispers as he moves both hands, shifting his hips and guiding their cocks together, “Yeah?”
“Yes- Yeah,” Arthur gasps, gritting his teeth as his gut clenches and Charles encircles their cocks with both hands, “Oh shit-”
Fucking himself against Charles and into the younger man’s grip, moving his hands to either side of Charles’ waist and holding himself up to get a better angle.
Cursing softly and meeting the younger man’s eyes.
Charles’ adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, lips parting, looking up at Arthur.
“Sometime…” Charles says hoarsely, “When we have time like this, again… I want you.”
Arthur groans and bows his head, his hair falling into his face as he slows himself down and carefully grinds against Charles, drawing out each roll of his hips.
Charles’ fingers flex around them, his cock jerking and the younger man whispers a warning before he’s coming.
Back arching up off the dirt again, tensed up under Arthur as the older man keeps rutting against him, Charles’ come spilling over the younger man’s drawers, hands, both their cocks slick with the mess of it.
“Want you too,” Arthur chokes out as he digs his fingers into the ground, “Either way.”
Charles hums weakly and shifts his grip away from his own cock, too sensitive, gripping Arthur’s and stroking until Arthur’s stuttering out his own impending end, hips jerking and eyes closing tight, only to open again.
Bright and wide, before he leans in, catching Charles’ mouth in another sticky, sweet kiss.