Chapter Text
It's a long while before Charles can get his laughter under control.
"Oh, oh," he pants, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Oh Arthur."
"Laugh it up," Arthur grumbles.
Charles picks a piece of lint off the shoulder of Arthur's tee shirt, still chuckling. "Arthur. You are such a… Really? You wanted to pursue me, but you're afraid of bees, so you thought I'd just hate you or something?"
"Is that so far-fetched?"
"A little, yeah," Charles tells him. "Like, I'm afraid of sharks, but I'd still fuck you if you were a marine biologist, y'know?"
"You'd theoretically fuck marine biologist me?"
"I'd literally fuck you, any version. Or, maybe not the actual shark version of you," Charles chuckles, then shudders at the thought of Arthur with three rows of teeth and a dorsal fin.
"Well… I ain't a shark. Ain't particularly fond of the ocean in any strong way, either," Arthur says. There's a slow, crooked smile taking over his face.
"Okay, good," Charles says with a little nod. "So. Where does that put us?"
"Can I kiss you?" Arthur asks. If the look in his eyes means anything, he's been dying to ask.
The breath comes out of Charles in a surprised huff. "Yeah," he says, planting his beer bottle between his boots. Sandy shifts and looks up at him. "All right."
Arthur leans in, Charles leans in, and when their lips brush together, it's warm and electric.
And then Arthur's lawn chair collapses out from underneath him, taking him none-too-gently out of Charles's line of sight and away from his lips.
Sandy barks her indignation when Arthur lands nearly on top of her. She scampers away towards John and Jack, who, like everyone else, are suddenly looking their way.
For the second time in ten minutes, Charles howls with laughter.
"What are you doing over there, Arthur?" someone calls, and then everyone starts laughing too.
It's obvious, even in the flickering firelight, how red Arthur's cheeks are as he stands and extricates himself from the wreckage of the former lawn chair. "Sorry," he says. "Sorry, Sandy, and sorry, Charles, I tipped your beer there. All over our shoes, too."
"Just farm shoes," Charles says, grinning. "No need to worry."
"Aww, can it, guys," Arthur calls to everyone still chuckling at his expense. He grabs the twisted metal frame of the chair and frowns briefly to Charles. Be right back, and we can, uh, pick up our conversation."
Charles glances around the fire while Arthur stalks away, possibly to punish the chair for ruining their moment and embarrassing him, or possibly just to find a new chair. People are returning back to their conversations, losing interest in his corner now that Arthur's gone. He watches as Dutch stands and stretches his arms theatrically over his head.
"Well, it's been swell," he says. "But Hosea and I should get going."
"Really Dutch? It's not even eleven yet. Remember when we used to see dawn, three mornings in a row?" Sadie asks.
"Those days are long past, Sadie," he laughs. "C'mon, Hosea."
Sadie frowns. "Heck, we did that at Easter, didn't we?"
Hosea shoots a look at Sadie, a 'don't push buttons' look, if Charles has ever seen one. The more he sees and hears of Dutch van der Linde and the way he talks to people, the less Charles wants to be anywhere near him.
"John, Arthur," Dutch goes on. "A word before we head out?"
Charles doesn't exactly like that either, for some reason he can't put a finger on.
John gets up and follows Dutch and Hosea away from the immediate vicinity. No way for anyone to easily eavesdrop. Sadie's still frowning when Charles catches her eye. Her frown turns into a brief scowl and she shakes her head and gives a little shrug. Yeah. Dutch van der Linde is bad news.
He shakes the excess spilled beer off his shoes and Sandy comes back, pushing her head under his arm into his lap. "Hey big baby," he says. "You getting tired? S'been a long party." He stands to leave, waving to Sadie and Abigail, and gets three steps away from the fire when…
"Hey." John's hand alights on Charles's shoulder. Arthur's right beside him when Charles turns his head.
"Hey yourself," he says, unable to keep the smile from creeping in as the warmth from John's hand seeps into his skin.
"We, uhhh. Need a favour," John says. He looks pained.
Arthur clears his throat. "Yeah, and you don't have to agree," he adds.
"Just ask," Charles says. "I'm going to say yes, dumbass."
"Did you just…" Arthur looks incredulous.
Charles grins and reaches his hand up to pluck at Arthur's arm, tugging and placing his hand on his free shoulder.
"I did. Dumbass."
"We gotta go out of town for a few days. Maybe a few weeks, even," John says. "Someone's gotta watch the place."
"Oh," Charles feels instantly deflated. "With Dutch?"
"Uh… Yes."
"Trust us, we ain't happy about it."
"A few weeks is a long time," Charles says.
"That's why I say you don't have to agree. Sadie and Abigail will probably stay here, if we make the deal sweet enough…" Arthur says.
"I didn't mean that," Charles says, realising a moment too late that that's kind of a telling sentence. "I just meant…"
"We'll pay you," John offers.
"No, no, it's just neighbourly," Charles says.
"He meant he's gonna miss you… Or us." Arthur corrects himself before Charles can call him 'dumbass' again.
"Nah," Charles says, shifting his weight between his feet and sticking one hand on his hip. "Nothing like that."
Arthur chuckles. It sounds dark to Charles's ears. "Honestly though, I'll go talk to Sadie, and --"
"No need, I got it," he promises. "I swear. The house, the horses, Spunky… me and Sandy can handle it. Or I'll handle it, she'll Sandle it, I mean."
"Oh, never say that again," John groans. "You can't make Dad jokes."
Arthur barks out a laugh. "He thinks he's cornered the market on that."
"No, nothing like that."
"Oh, then he must be jealous that you're making Dad jokes and you're still so damn hot."
"Arthur takes a hotness point away every time I make a bad pun," John says.
"And I took a million away when the wolves ate his brain, so he's like, hurting for them at this point."
"I like the scars," Charles says. "Very rugged."
"Thank you, Charles," John says, very pointedly. "Now… you're sure you don't mind watching the place and the horses?"
"Not at all, and Sandy and Spunky will look out for each other. I swear, it'll be fine. Just promise me you'll check in."
They both look pained.
"Jesus, you can't even check in? Do I wanna know what the hell is going on?"
"No," Arthur says. "You don't. But we'll have to tell you eventually. When we're home. We owe you that, for sure, by this point."
Charles tries to wave that off, but John silences him with a brief but searing kiss. Charles is reeling from that, more than a bit giddy, when Arthur catches his chin and slots their mouths together. It's another brief kiss that sends Charles for a loop.
"Heh heh," he chuckles dumbly, stars and fireflies dancing in his eyes.
"Yeah, there's more where that came from," John promises. "When we're home."
"I'll be waiting."