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It had been a stupid mistake.
Then again most of his injuries in his life could be attributed to that.
Ignorance, overconfidence, stupidity.
He felt all three of them this time.
They had been on a job, a stagecoach running between strawberry and valentine, him Charles and Javier.
The drivers had given up easily enough, the passengers not making any fuss and handing over their valuables with ease.
He had forgotten to double-check them for weapons.
All the way up until the coachman’s hidden revolver went off, the shot thankfully going wide and striking him in the leg.
The injury wasn’t even that bad all things considering but Charles still reacted like Arthur was dying, striking the driver across the face, and making blood drip from his broken nose.
Collecting the rest of the haul and escaping the scene quickly as the passengers screamed at the blood and violence as if they hadn’t considered it a possibility to ever witness such a thing.
Arthur held a hand over his leg while riding back to camp, staunching the flow of blood, and cursing at the fact his new pants had a hole in them more than at the pain, more than use to the sensation at this point in his outlaw career.
The injury laid him up for days, all but confining him to his tent with Susan or Hosea glaring at him any time he moved around too much.
Javier laughed it off, especially Arthur grumbling about having to sit around for the next week, but Charles.
Arthur couldn’t honestly remember a time the man had been so quiet.
The man had opened up to them in the last few months after blackwater, especially when it came to Arthur, but after the injury, he got pensive and quiet, brows heavy with an emotion Arthur couldn’t quite get a read on.
Not at first anyway.
But it was easy enough to figure out after that, what with Charles electing himself to bring Arthur his food so he didn’t have to get up, doing the chores Arthur couldn’t, leaving camp at random times, and coming back with either a deer or something for the collection box.
After three days even Arthur was worn thin, and he was only watching the man work.
So, when the man brought Arthur his lunch on the fourth day, instead of letting him escape he took the bowl and caught the man's wrist, squinting up at the younger man who looked back at him with wide dark eyes.
The skin underneath of which had darkened into bags, lines marring his forehead and deepening when he furrowed his brow.
The whites of his eyes were also red as if he hadn’t slept in the last few days.
“Charles” Arthur growled “what’s got into ya”
The mans face smoothed into a disinterested mask, or the mans best attempt at one never mind Arthur could see through it easily enough “don’t know what you’re talking about Arthur” his voice was brittle with the same exhaustion Arthur could see in his eyes and it made him frown harder.
“ya know I ain’t dyin right? Ain’t no reason ta work yourself this hard”
The man’s lips twitched, and he swallowed “you could have”
He spoke so quietly Arthur almost didn’t hear him “it’s a casualty of the job Charles, we been shot at before” he let go of the other man's wrist to pick up his food, eating it slowly “we both got the scars to prove it” he muttered between bites “ain’t no use blaming yourself”
“I disarmed the driver” his voice had grown tense “I got complacent and you almost”
Charles stopped and bit his lip, swallowing whatever he had been about to say never mind that Arthur could guess “we all was” he muttered, pausing to finish the bland stew before placing the bowl off to the side and focusing back on the man “ain’t no reason ta work yourself into any earlier a grave than we already got comin to us”
He smirked at his own joke, but Charles hardly reacted, instead moving to sit against the side of Arthur's cot, crossing his legs and raking back his hair, Arthur had never seen it quite so unkept before.
“I keep seein it” he admitted quietly “seeing what could have happened, it won’t let me sleep, I keep think what might have happened, did happen” the man spoke slowly, and with every word Arthur's chest hurt a little bit more.
Arthur Morgan was not a sympathetic man but that brought it out in him.
Without thinking he reached behind himself, grabbing the bedroll he had been using as an extra pillow out from behind his back and tossed it at Charles.
The younger caught it, never quite off guard even around Arthur, and looked at it in confusion before looking back at the blonde who was pulling out his journal to do something with his hands
“what-?”
“ya said ya couldn’t sleep, cause what might of happened, sleepin here should help”
Arthur ignored the warmth raising up his neck as he spoke, keeping his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him rather than the other man and so missing the way Charles face shifted, flicking between shock and gratitude and something he wouldn’t have been able to put a name to.
He heard more than saw the man rolling out the bedding, slowly laying down on his back and sighing before closing his eyes.
Half expecting it to be awkward until the youngers exhaustion pulled him under, Arthur was surprised when the man’s breathing almost immediately slowed, finally looking away from his journal to watch the man's chest slowly rise and fall.
In sleep, it was obvious how stressed the man had been, years falling off of his face as the lines smoothed, Arthur watching as the man's lips parted slightly to let gentle snores into the air.
He hadn’t expected him to fall asleep quite that fast.
Lips twitching, he shook his head before turning the page in his journal and pressing his pencil to the fresh page, taking this moment of silence and stillness to capture the man's image on the page.
He took care with every line, the strands of hair and the scars, his open shirt collar, and the designs on his vest.
After a few minutes, the younger man was shifting, turning from his back to his side and Arthur stopped drawing, closing his journal, and slowly laying down to watch the man sleep, reaching out without much thought and bushing a long strand of inky black hair from his face to tuck behind his ear, pausing when the man shifted.
For a moment Arthur feared he had woken the man, remembering how light of a sleeper he was, only to relax as he simply moved to press into the touch, making Arthur slowly start to pet the man, the motion soothing until Arthur shook himself.
Taking his hand away he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling of his tent, crossing his arms before closing his eyes, wishing for sleep.
After a couple of hours, he sighed in annoyance and sat up looking around what he could see of the camp, looking to see if anyone was paying any attention to him.
He was just formulating a plan on how to get out of the cot and sneak out of camp when there was a grunt from beside him making him turn and look at Charles who was sitting up, sleep heavy in his eyes that squinted at Arthur, frowning at him.
“what are you doing” he had never heard Charles slur his words quite like that.
“nothin',” he said only for the younger to squint at him harder, making him sigh “I been in bed fer four days, I’m fine ta walk around the camp!” he insisted.
Charles grunted and for a moment Arthur was expecting the man to lay back down, to wave him off or say something along the lines of it not being a good idea with the skin on his leg still being tender to the touch.
However, he did none of these things, instead grunting and standing up before all but falling onto Arthur.
Despite being slightly shorter than him, the younger man weighed a surprising amount, his weight pushing Arthur back into his cot with a grunt.
“the hell” he demanded, and the man got comfortable on his chest.
His hands fisted in the man's shirt but rather than shoving him off he just held the man, blinking wide eyes as he rubbed his stubbled cheek over Arthur's shirt.
“no” he muttered before sighing; arms tucked snugly around Arthur's ribs.
Arthur thought about what he could do in this situation, he could shove the man off, or he could argue, or he could request someone else’s help to put Charles to bed in his own cot.
A million options raced through his mind in a moment, but he took none of them, instead, he just sighed and let his head fall back, Charles weight pressing him into his cot and thinking about how he wouldn’t be able to sleep.
All the way until his eyes were slipping closed and he fell asleep like that.
~
Charles jerked himself awake sometime later, the sky having long grown dark.
His heart was hammering in his chest, his lungs frozen, and a name caught on his tongue until he felt something moving against him.
Panic from his nightmare turning into confusion at just where he was he looked down to see a head of dark blonde hair tucked into his shoulder.
Realizing it was Arthur his confusion turned back into a mild panic, worried for a moment how the man would react if he woke up to the way Charles was currently holding him, cuddling him.
His hand had rucked up Arthur's shirt, fingers pressed into warm skin and their legs were tangled in a way that worried Charles, what with him doubting he’d be able to move away without jarring the man's injured leg.
He panicked all the way until Arthur grunted and pressed himself tighter against Charles body, lifting his face to press it against his throat and snorting when Charles's hair tickled his nose, making him lift a hand to push it out of the way and then freezing as the man spoke against his skin, lips barely moving.
“go back to sleep”
The panic left him, and his body relaxed, laying his arm back around Arthur sighing as he pulled the man slightly closer.
They could talk about this in the morning but for now, he closed his eyes, ducking just enough to kiss the top of the man's head before letting sleep take him again.
It was the best sleep either of them had gotten in weeks.