pure self-indulgent cowboy h/c

[ungood]

[ It's been a week since he got back from his ordeal with the O'Driscolls, about that point where everybody except Susan, Hosea, and Swanson had used up the bulk of their sympathy. Not that they had necessarily switch to being unsympathetic (save a special couple of cases) so much as there was that general sense of waiting for him to be back on his feet and be useful again. ]

[ Maybe he was just projecting, that was how Arthur felt after all. The worst part of recovering from these kinds of things was that period of time where you weren't all foggy or halfway out of it anymore, now he was coherent and lucid all he could think about was how he could be doing something useful if it wasn't for how much pain he was still in. Didn't help that the few times Dutch would check in, ask "how you holding up, son?" or give some platitude about how it'd be better soon, it felt to Arthur more like being asked when he'd be working again, and he couldn't help but feel like a disappointment. Like he was letting everyone down. ]

[ For that first week, Susan had taken care of him, maybe more than he was comfortable with but he was thankful all the same. She kept him clean, kept him fed, kept an eye on when his bandages needed changing. Grimshaw wasn't a woman known for her tenderness, but she had it in her all the same and though she'd brush it off, it didn't stop Arthur feeling he owed her a great debt. He didn't want to burden her any longer than he needed to though. He could walk — slowly, holding his injured arm to himself, with a lot of pain all over — he could take care of himself now. ]

[ And so he takes himself out while Grimshaw's busy with the girls, grabs a bucket and slowly plods down the riverbank to take himself away from camp to get washed. Just getting out of his clothes is a bit of an ordeal, but he sits on the bank once he manages to get his shirt off and carefully starts unbandaging his shoulder. It's slow going, but he's fine. Nobody fuss. ]

Comments

[stolider]

Of course.

[Charles is, predictably, deft and gentle in his work. When he had finally removed all of the used bandages, he began very carefully cleaning up Arthur's shoulder.]

I have to admit, it was interesting to see Grimshaw dote on you like that. [said with a wry smile]

[ungood]

[ Arthur watches Charles' hands as he works, unsurprised by the lightness or efficiency of his touch. It's mesmerizing, and for those minutes just watching it drowns everything else out. So much so that it takes a moment for Charles' words to sink in, and Arthur looks at him first in confusion, and then with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. ]

She would for any of us who was hurt that bad.

[ Hell, it seems sometimes she's the only one who has any compassion for the Reverend. ]

[stolider]

Of course. I'm just saying, it's always fascinating to see a new side of someone.

[He carefully pats Arthur's shoulder dry and picks up the clean bandages.]

[ungood]

[ Arthur puts a hand on Charles' hand and shakes his head. ]

I need to get washed, so...

[ He flicks his eyes back toward camp and tilts his head in a gesture. Get outta here. ]

[stolider]

[Charles pauses and tilts his head, considering whether or not he should press a little more. But he's done enough, and the rest will be easier.]

[(Some part of him is just enjoying this but that's buried pretty far back in the old noggin.)]

Okay. I'll leave you to it, then.

[He puts the clean bandages back down next to Arthur and then pats his knee as he stands.]

[ungood]

Thanks again, Charles.

[ Arthur smiles up at him as he goes, and when Charles is gone he looks back down at his shoulder. Even clean and sewn it's still an angry, horrible looking wound, the bruising has mostly faded, but the skin is still red and swollen. It doesn't hurt so much in that moment though, and Arthur tilts his head in thought. ]

[ Anyway. ]

[ Washing is difficult, but it's fine. Arthur gets to enjoy having some time to himself for the first time in a week. Privacy was a long lost lover at this point, they parted ways many years ago, but he'd gotten a lot of mileage out of solitude since then, having the trust and freedom to leave camp on his own for long periods of time. Having neither and nothing to occupy his time or thoughts for this past week has been suffocating. So if he takes the opportunity to jerk off then that's fine and not something to think about more deeply. ]

[ He pulls his pants and boots on, and it fucking hurts but he does it, and Arthur sits on the ground and starts slowly bandaging his shoulder back up. ]