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In the grand scheme of things, Charles couldn't say when he looked back on the last few years of his life that he'd ever anticipated being where he was now. No indeed, he'd expected that he and his companions would be dead or imprisoned, most certainly he hadn't expected to be living on a ranch he'd helped build with people he considered family and the love of his life who by all rights should have been six foot under long before they had truly settled in. That in and of itself was still almost unbelievable, Charles didn't think he'd entirely believe it himself if someone told him the whole story second hand, but given that he'd been there living it, it was hard to deny.
Arthur had already been sick when they fled, though he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone and often went to great pains to hide any signs that the others may have picked up on. This, of course, didn’t fool Charles for even a moment and they both knew it. He’d woken up one too many times to the wheezing, hacking coughs of the man laying beside him to simply let that go. But he said nothing, instead he would silently coax Arthur into his arms and just hold him as the deep wracking coughs shook his body, pressing feather light kisses to his hair and whispering soft reassurances as the other man clung to him.
It was a silent agreement that their escape was priority, but after they’d managed it more or less intact Arthur's condition had only worsened and at the insistence of the others he had allowed Charles to coax him into the nearest town to visit a doctor where the confirmation of his condition had been unsurprising but no less devastating. It’d taken everything Charles had not to gather him in his arms right there and never let go but he’d managed it, waiting until they’d reached home to draw him into his arms with a gentle reassurance that he’d be there, they’d all be there for him. That he’d never have to be alone in this.
They’d been pretty words but in reality they all, including Arthur, knew they were going to be preparing for his eventual death even as they did everything in their power to prolong his time. So it had come as a great shock to them when after a fairly steep decline, Arthur’s condition seemed to stabilize. He was still horribly weak of course but Charles began to notice that the other man's grip around his waist at night was growing stronger with each passing day, he was eating more and looking healthier though none of them had dared hope that this was a positive sign until the doctor, looking rightfully quite shocked as she finished the examination, had confirmed that the disease was indeed in remission. She'd called it a miracle and Charles had to admit he'd silently agreed.
It’d been a tentative return to form after that, Arthur's recovery was a long and at times painful process and the disease had left plenty of lasting reminders of its presence including a permanent hacking cough that acted up when the weather was bad. But he had recovered and that in and of itself was something they were all grateful for.
So naturally the first time Arthur gets sick after his recovery, toppling over in the fields with no prior warning, the others understandably panic. Charles has to catch a hysteric Karen in his arms as she bursts into the barn and spooks the cow he’d been helping settle into a pen ready for the imminent arrival of her offspring.
“It’s Arthur, he’s - he collapsed, he- one minute he was jokin’ with me the next he’s droppin’ like a sack a’ spuds” the words send a chill down Charles’ spine but he does his best to remain calm and soothe Karen, who eyes are wild and tear filled as she tugs as his hand
“Easy, easy Karen. Take me to him yeah?” the gentle assurance in his usual low timbre seems to do the trick somewhat as he encourages her to move with him though the worry is still evident. He can't say he fairs much better when Arthur comes into view, still on the ground though his head is now pillowed in Tilly’s lap. His heart skips several beats as he takes in the obviously laboured rise and fall of his chest and disoriented state.
He barely breaks stride as he moves over to gently scoop the other man up like he weighs nothing, rolling his eyes as Arthur gives a wheezing chuckle
“There he is, my Prince Charming. Sweepin’ me off my feet like always” the comment gets a heavy sigh but draws a slight smile from Charles nonetheless.
“Hush, you damn fool and save your strength” he admonishes quietly, though rather than any bite to the words they are laced with a deep fondness and he gives a low chuckle as Arthur grumbles and hides his face against Charles’ neck as he walks them into the house with the girls trailing behind, them hands linked in a gesture of silent support.
The moment they were inside Charles glanced over his shoulder to the women and gave them a meaningful look “Tilly, can you call Hosea? And Karen I want you to ride into town and get Dr. Quinn-” he was cut off by a weak protest from Arthur who had raised his head just enough to be ornery, though the girls had already nodded and hurried away
“C'mon now I don't need a doctor, I'm just a little tired, Hosea can-” he'd expected a plea such as this and merely shook his head
“Finish that sentence Arthur Morgan and I'm dumping you back out in the field” Charles warned, though he had to really work to school his features when Arthur nuzzled into his neck and pulled back to grin at him.
“Aww Sunshine, you wouldn't do that to me” the effect was lost somewhat given the hacking cough that punctuated it. Charles’ eye twitched dangerously.
“Watch me, cowboy. Now stop arguing, you're sick and we need to know what's wrong” there was no room for more argument in his tone and the worry that laced it finally seemed to shut Arthur up, or at least lower his complaints to a petulant grumble as Charles moved to their room and got him comfortable on the bed.
He perched on the side when he was done, reaching out to run a hand through Arthur's soft brown locks and smiling slightly when the other man leaned into it like an oversized house cat seeking scritches. He obliged for a moment, getting lost in the motions and the wheezing sigh of contentment his partner made at his ministrations “Hosea has been working on some of those extra potent health tonics, stocking up for winter” the answering hum of acknowledgement he received in return was punctuated with a wince and Charles’ brow furrowed. He let his hand trail down from its place in Arthur's hair to the side of his neck, gently pressing along it with his thumb and noting the hiss of pain when he came to a particularly sore spot with a hushed apology and a kiss to the forehead.
“You know I'm no doctor but your throat feels a little swollen and you're burning up” he shifted, lifting his other hand so he was now cupping Arthur's face. Even as clearly ill as he was the way Arthur looked at him, with such utter devotion and love, never failed to send butterflies roiling inside him as his heart skipped several beats. He loved this man, more than mere words would ever allow him to admit.
With a soft sigh he leaned forward and pressed another kiss to Arthur's brow and though it was met with contented sigh Arthur lifted his hands to grip weakly at Charles’ wrists
“Hey now, c'mon. If it's contagious you keep that up n’ you'll be sick right along with me”
“I don't have the constitution of tissue paper, I'll be fine”
“Hey! I resent that”
“Can't contest it though”
“Bite me”
“I thought you said you didn't want me to get sick?”
The smug grin that'd worked its way onto Charles’ face sobered slightly as Arthur's laughter morphed into a painful sounding cough. Shifting forward he moved a hand around to between Arthur's shoulder blades and rubbed soothingly, nuzzling his hair gently as he did so
“Easy love, deep breathes, that's right” with all the care of someone handling a newborn baby bird with a broken wing Charles settled Arthur against the pillows, giving him a wry smile and reaching up to run a calloused thumb over his cheek
“Let's just… see what the Doc has to say hmm? You're probably right, it's probably nothing serious but Artie… you nearly died” he near chokes on the word, voice thick with emotion as he watches Arthur's eyes lower to his hands, they fidget as they always do when he's thinking too hard or too deeply about something
“You should have died, but you didn't. But now you have to be careful, you didn't come out of this unscathed, fool” his smile is thin, watery and Arthur makes a soft noise somewhere between sorrow and understanding, reaching out to intertwine their free hands “I don't- I don't want to lose you, that sounds so selfish but it's true, I love you Arthur. So much. And I am going to do whatever I can in my power to make sure you get better again” as he tapered off Charles felt strangely vulnerable.
Though he had never shied away from expressing his love for the man before him, it was rare that he bared all so freely and it left him feeling oddly exposed, though not in a bad way. Arthur seemed to think this over, then nodded, his own eyes shining now with unshed tears “Alright, I'll see her” the smile he gives Charles is small and understanding and Charles can't even think of a quip in return, so he just squeezes his hand as a silent thank you and they settle in to wait.
One doctors visit later and it was indeed determined to just be a little cold as Arthur had suspected it might be. Though it was coupled with Arthur having perhaps overdone it a little in the manual labour department to which he’d gotten no end of ribbing from multiple sources, though he took this all in admittedly sheepish good grace and chuckled at Abigail's oathe to watch him like a hawk from now on.
As Hosea thanks the doctor for her time and pays her despite her protests Charles makes a detour to the kitchen, watching in amusement as Javier and Mary-Beth dance around each other, laughing and chatting as they make dinner. Sean, from his place at the dining table being wholly unhelpful to the process is the first to spot him. He beams and Charles can't help the smile that twitches at the corners of his mouth in automatic response.
“Charles! Didn't think we'd see you out here so soon, you're usually orbittin’ when he's so much as stubbed his toe” it's a very Sean way of asking whether Arthur is alright, kind of convoluted and wholly obtuse in its delivery, but with good intentions despite that.
“Unlike some people I actually pull my weight around here, someone’s gotta look after the idiot. Thought you were supposed to be helping with dinner” he gives the redhead a sideways glance as he makes his way towards the larder with intent “He’s fine, by the way. Just managed to get himself a cold. Thanks for asking” he stifles a chuckle and ducks into the pantry as Sean begins to whine
“C’mon that’s not fair, I pull my weight!”
“He says, lazing about as we do all the work” Mary Beth’s voice is pitched in a sing song tone as she laughs
“She’s got a point. You said you were gonna peel the carrots twenty minutes ago, you’ve yet to move anything but your mouth, Sean” Javier’s tone is teasing and laced with fond exasperation
“This is bullying, I'm being bullied. Tilly they're bullying me!” he lamented, the sound of his chair scraping back as Charles rummaged for something that'd go down Arthur's battered throat easily put the image of Sean leaning back too far and letting his head tip back to look at Tilly as she stood in the doorframe to the living room. His thoughts were confirmed a moment later when there was an amused sounding snort. .
“It's only bullying if you don't deserve it, MacGuire” Tilly’s voice was laced with amusement and there was a beat of silence before Javier’s familiar cackle accompanied by Mary Beth’s snorting giggle could be heard alongside even more affronted complaining from Sean, despite the fact that he was clearly laughing now as well.
Rolling his eyes he settles on a can of peaches and exits the pantry, taking in the scene before him with no small amount of amusement “Alright, enough, enough”
“Charles! I knew you'd have my back”
“You keep baiting him and he'll never shut up”
“Oh come on!”
Charles grins as he exits the kitchen, the flurry of laughter and motion growing fainter as he moves down the hallway towards the bedroom. Moving slow he opens the door as softly as he can to avoid disturbing the occupant, though it seemed he needn’t have worried.The lights are dim and there’s a faint sniffling from mound of blankets on the bed, a nest Arthur seemed to have constructed in his absence, which shifts slightly at the soft sound of the door clicking shut.
“Charles? Tha’ you?” Arthur’s voice is scratchy already and Charles can’t help a sympathetic wince at the sound.
“Yeah Arthur, it’s me. Brought you somethin’ to eat. Hopin’ it’ll go down easy” he brings the dish over to the bed and settles cross legged on his side, waiting patiently as Arthur fights his way out of the blankets to observe Charles and his offering. He brightens at the sight of the vibrant looking segments floating in the dish and he gives Charles a smile that makes his insides flutter.
“Ah darlin’, you’re too good to me-” he breaks off into a painful sounding cough and Charles leans forward to rub his back gently, murmuring soft reassurances until the coughing subsides and Arthur gives a gasping sigh.
“Stop talking and let me take care of you then” he hums, balancing the dish in one hand and helping Arthur settle back against the headboard with the other, a soft snort of amusement leaving him as Arthur gives him a lazy salute.
They sit in relative silence as Charles carefully feeds Arthur peach segments and perhaps there was a time that Arthur would’ve insisted he could do it himself, that all this fuss wasn’t necessary, but he’s long past giving a damn about that now and can admit to himself that he enjoys it when Charles looks after him like this, though he could certainly do without the illness part of the equation.
Charles lets his mind wander as he watches Arthur chew and swallow with what is obvious discomfort. It’s incredible really, that they’re here now. Sometimes he would wake up in the morning, Arthur pressed into his side with his head buried against his neck and the sound of birdsong drifting in through the window and it all feels like some kind of surreal dream. But he knew it wasn’t, because never had he ever dreamed of finding a place to settle and people to settle it with like this. He had been a lone wolf by choice, until he’d fallen in with the Van Der Linde gang and found himself inadvertently gaining a pack.
He chuckles to himself, soft and barely audible, at the thought. A bunch of misfit degenerates the lot of them, and yet he’d never felt more at home than he did here with these people, currently nursing his grumbling husband back to health.
“Was’ on yer mind?” Arthur’s voice is soft, like he’s trying not to strain it and it drags Charles back to the present easily enough
“Just thinking about this, us. How lucky we’ve been” he hums, reaching out to run his hand through Arthur’s hair
“Well I know damn well I’m the luckiest son o’ a bitch out there. I got you don’t I?” Arthur punctuates this with a wink and Charles blinks at him for a moment before breaking into a snickering laugh
“Even when you’re sick you’re a sweet talker. What did I say about keepin’ your trap shut hmm?” he shakes his head, still smiling and indicates to the bowl in his hand “Y’done?” at Arthur’s affirming nod Charles shifts to place the dish on the nightstand then slides off the bed, ignoring the soft protest for him to return. He pulls off his work clothes, leaving a trail as he moves to grab a brush from the armoire.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere, fool” he returns to the bed and gives Arthur a warm, if slightly amused look as the brunette ducks his head, his unspoken fears being called out “Told you didn't I? You have my undivided attention until you get better” he settles on the bed again to brush and then braid his hair, the familiar motions soothing both him and apparently Arthur, if the way he is watching Charles’ work with half lidded eyes and a hazy, soft smile is any indication.
Once he’s done he rolls up so that he is perched on his knees facing Arthur, who looks at him inquiringly “Can I?” he rumbles softly, motioning with his brush towards Arthur’s unruly mop of hair, currently sweat slicked and tangled from the fever.
Arthur studies him for a moment, seemingly appraising him for any ulterior motives, something Charles can’t stop an amused huff at, then seems to deem this an acceptable request like they both knew he was going to. He didn’t outright voice it, but Charles knew Arthur adored having his hair brushed, just as he liked having fingers card through it.
“Sure” comes the soft mumble as he moves carefully into a position that’s easier for Charles to reach. Settling warm against Arthur’s side he proceeded to run the brush gently through the tangled golden brown strands, smoothing them out as best he can given Arthur’s currently perpetual bed head.
As he’d anticipated Arthur begins to get heavier against him as he works, his breathing evening out outside of the odd wheezing cough and he’s nearly asleep by the time Charles has completed his task. Unwilling to move away from the other man Charles instead aims for the nightstand and throws the brush there,deeming it good enough when it lands precariously on the side of it.
He turns his attention back to Arthur as a soft smile works it’s way onto his lips “C’mon sleeping beauty. That can’t be comfortable” he speaks low and soft, unwilling to jar Arthur out of his relaxed state too much
“Nn, pretty comfy I’d say” his voice is already edging on sleep slurred and it makes Charles smile, something inside him just so soft at the knowledge that Arthur wouldn’t behave like this with anyone else. His trust in Charles was implicit, even at his most vulnerable.
“Liar, now come on, take some of Hosea’s tonic and then we can sleep” he chuckles, grinning as Arthur huffily obliges and sits back just enough for Charles to reach over and grab the bottle on the side of the bed, freshly made and fairly potent if the smell was any indication when Charles uncapped the bottle and held it to Arthur’s lips, holding back a snicker at the face he made at the taste.
Arthur shot him a half hearted glare and Charles could no longer keep back that laugh “Oh don’t pout, c’mere” carefully, making sure not to jostle him Charles crooked a finger gently under Arthur’s stubbled chin and pressed up, smiling when he tilted his head up easily to meet Charles in a gentle press of lips.
He lingers in the kiss for a moment, knowing he’s definitely risking getting sick himself now, but not particularly caring in the moment, it’s more than worth it for the helpless little noise Arthur makes as he presses his fingers into Charles’ bicep as if to ground himself. With one last chaste press of lips he moves away, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s forehead for good measure. Carefully as he can he rearranges them both under the covers, leaning back into the pillows and giving a smug little smile as he catches sight of the blush working it’s way up Arthur’s neck as he pulls him close
“Better Mr Morgan?” he hums, grin turning triumphant as Arthur grumbles and buries into Charles’ side, lips pressing against his neck as he hides his face. A heavy arm snakes its way across his waist and Charles gives a contented sigh, reaching out to dim the lantern by the bedside to nothing before wrapping his arms around Arthur securely and closing his eyes.
It’s quiet for a little while, though Charles can feel Arthur has yet to fall back to sleep again, and he takes to running soothing circles into his side with his thumb to help him relax. He does, but still it feels like he has something to say, so Charles ducks his head and presses a kiss to his hair “You okay?” there’s a soft grumble, like Arthur’s trying to find the words, then- “Love you, Charles. Don’t say it enough. N’ thank you, for this. For everythin’” the words have a lump lodging in Charles’ throat, an overwhelming sense of rightness and adoration washing over him as he squeezes the man in his arms gently
“Fool, I know. You show me every day” he hums a soft ‘i love you’ against Arthur’s hair, barely audible before louder “Now go to sleep, you’ll never get better if you keep yappin’ all night long”
There is a chuckle, and it sounds suspiciously wet but neither of them comment on it “Sure thing, boss” he hums, before tapering off into slowly relaxing breaths that Charles begins to match as they both finally fall into the realms of sleep.