Author's Note: I had so much fun writing this one, you guys. Charthur is my other OTP right alongside VanderMatthews, I just love the chemistry between these two. I also love how they argue like a married couple in-game (because they basically are.)
So, enjoy some Arthur whump with soft and caring Charles, and a fishing trip gone horribly wrong (but also oh so right.)
Prompt: "Hypothermia" + Alternate Prompt "Ice"
"G-goddamn st-stupid ice... God-d-damn s-stupid lake... Goddamn stup-pid f-fish..."
Charles sighed, ignoring Arthur's furious muttering in favor of continuing to guide both of their horses toward the tiny cabin that stood at the far northwestern end of Lake Isabella. One gloved hand gripped the reins of Arthur's amber champagne Fox Trotter, Horchata, the other communicating with Taima as she laboriously forged a trail through the deep, dense snow. "Come on, girl, just a little farther," he urged her gently from his seat in the saddle, patting her neck when she tossed her head in irritation. The Appaloosa huffed a sigh, not completely mollified, but didn't falter, continuing to stomp her way through the heavy powder blanketing the trail. "That's it, Taima. Good girl, such a good girl."
The young man shivered, the biting wind nipping at his cheeks and chilling his neck as it whipped his dark hair around his face. Arthur needed help quickly, he knew; he was soaked through, and even with Charles's heavy coat now draped over him instead of his own sodden one, the bitter cold could easily kill him if he didn't get warm and dry soon. But they were close now, the weather-beaten old shack just visible in the distance, and considering Arthur still had energy enough to hiss and spit like a hungry cougar in a rainstorm, Charles reckoned he wasn't likely to be knocking on death's door before they reached it.
The two of them hadn't been able to get away from camp together in a long time, and Charles had been excited when Arthur proposed the journey north into the Grizzlies. With the Pinkertons drawing closer by the day and Angelo Bronte's stranglehold on Saint Denis making jobs riskier to pull off than ever before, Dutch and Hosea were sending Arthur away from camp more and more often. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear for days at a time, prowling about the alleyways of the city looking for leads or slogging through the damp darkness of the bayou to bring in food and herbs for the gang. Charles felt like he barely saw the man anymore except when he passed in or out of Shady Belle, and by then he was often so exhausted he could barely speak, both he and Horchata coated head to toe in muck and slime and bug bites. So when Arthur had approached him on the outskirts of camp a few days ago, mentioning he planned on riding up to Ambarino and wanting to know if Charles would come along, he hadn't hesitated a moment before agreeing.
It had started off as such a nice day, too, all things considered. Charles wasn't particularly fond of the cold – after their extended stay in Colter, he doubted any of them were, anymore – but the sky was clear and the sun as warm as it could've been, making the chilly air at least a little more tolerable. He and Arthur had spent the afternoon fishing on the ice together, near the southern shore of the mostly-frozen lake. Charles was content to enjoy the peaceful stillness, pulling in whatever nibbled on his lure and keeping any that looked big enough to cook. Arthur was hoping to pull in some kind of "legendary" salmon, a rough image of which was sketched on a map he'd received from a stranger down south.
Things hadn't taken a turn for the worse until Arthur – against all odds – actually managed to not only find the legendary Sockeye Salmon, but reel it in as well. It was a truly impressive creature, body a vibrant cherry pink and its head and fins tipped silvery-blue. Its back was broad and roached, and its face was fierce and ugly, top jaw overshot and lined with a row of sharp teeth. It was easily fifty pounds and a good three feet long, and if Charles hadn't been there to see Arthur haul it out of the lake, both fish and angler exhausted from several long minutes of struggle, he never would have believed it.
Unfortunately for them, though, Arthur was a large man, and a large man holding a large fish was apparently more weight than the edge of the frozen surface was willing to accommodate. In the same moment he beamed with pride and held it up for Charles to see, the ice beneath Arthur's feet groaned, fracturing with a crack that echoed like a gunshot through the frosty air. Barely a second later, before either of them could even react except to meet each other's eyes in horrified realization, Arthur was gone, vanishing down into the dark, frigid water below.
Charles, frantic, sprinted to the edge of the ice himself, slowing down only when his feet neared the broken section where he had last seen Arthur standing. He peered into the water, looking for any sign of him, and his heart leapt into his throat when he spotted the deep blue of Arthur's winter coat, just barely visible and thrashing violently beneath the murky surface. Dropping down onto his belly as fast as he could without risking falling through himself, Charles crawled forward, reaching as far down through the hole as his arms would allow. As soon as his fingers brushed against the coat he gripped it tight, pulling upwards for all he was worth until finally, blessedly, Arthur came free of the water and fell back onto the ice, gasping and coughing as Charles bodily dragged them both toward safer ground.
"S-sonova... bitch..." Arthur panted, shivering violently as he caught his breath and then pulled himself shakily to his feet. "Thanks, Ch... Ch-Charles... I owe- owe you o-one..."
"Are you alright?" Charles asked, heart still thundering with adrenaline as he helped Arthur remove his waterlogged coat and replaced it with his own. It wouldn't do much, not with the rest of his clothing still soaked to the skin, but some kind of shield against the wind was better than none.
"Just f-fine 'n d... dandy," Arthur growled, glaring down at the hole in the ice he had just been pulled out of. " 'cept I l-lost the damned f-fish."
Charles hadn't been able to come up with any sort of reasonable response to that. Instead he'd just slipped Arthur's arm over his shoulders, guiding him the rest of the way off of the lake and whistling for their horses before helping him pull himself up into Horchata's saddle. Even she seemed to know something was wrong, turning her head to nuzzle Arthur's knee and nudging him with a soft whicker.
"'s o-okay, girl," Arthur rasped, giving her shoulder a clumsy pat with heavy hands. "Jus' a li – a l-little cold, s'all."
"Come on," Charles said, taking Horchata's reins when it was clear Arthur's hands were too numb to so much as pick them up. "I know where we can find shelter."
The temperature continued to drop now as they rode past the upper edge of Lake Isabella, following the river northward until they were nearly to Spider Gorge. Arthur's grumbling eventually died away, replaced by miserable shivers as the cold seeped its way deep into his bones. Charles glanced over at him in silence, worry now drawing his gaze to Arthur more than to the path in front of them. Just when it began to feel as though they would never reach the end of the narrow river trail and the awaiting warmth and shelter, they finally arrived in front of the old shack at Dormin Crest. It was nothing extravagant, just a tiny abandoned cabin half-buried in the snow and hidden amidst a copse of spindly evergreens. To Charles, though, it might as well have been the entrance to the Pearly Gates at that moment, and likely to Arthur as well.
He slid down from Taima's back, slipping her a peppermint in apology for having to leave her tacked up a while longer. He fed one to Horchata too, scratching gently beneath her chin, and then helped Arthur dismount, pulling the older man's arm over his shoulders to help hold his weight when his shaking legs nearly gave out beneath him.
"Come on, Arthur, almost there," he coaxed, and Arthur nodded mutely, teeth chattering and shaky breaths puffing rapidly between his lips as they made their way inside. Charles kicked the door open with the toe of his boot, guiding Arthur over to stand near the center of the room. Without needing to be told, he began shedding his waterlogged clothing, and Charles directed his attention to the fireplace. A few dry logs remained stacked beside it, and he tossed them in, shredding a few old scraps of paper lying about on the floor for kindling and then lighting them with a match from his pack. The frayed edges caught instantly, the embers licking their way down into the wood below. Soon a small fire was crackling in the hearth, filling the room with a soft, flickering orange glow. The air in front of the fireplace immediately felt a little warmer, and he knew it wouldn't take long for the heat to permeate the entire room, small as it was.
Turning his attention back to Arthur, he saw that the man had managed to strip himself nearly naked, now down to just his union suit. His fingers fumbled with the buttons, too numb to find purchase and push them through the holes, and he sighed in frustration, running a hand back through his short brown hair and glancing up at Charles with a look of embarrassed resignation on his face.
"Can't feel my fingers enough to get the damn buttons undone," he muttered, gesturing in the general direction of his chest, and Charles huffed an amused chuckle through his nose. Arthur was still shivering violently, but at least now he was able to speak in complete sentences, so it was already a vast improvement.
"It's fine. Here," he said gently, pushing Arthur's shaking hands to the side and unfastening the buttons himself. Once enough of them were open, he helped Arthur pull his arms out, then yanked the whole thing down to his ankles in one smooth motion. Working one foot free and then the other, Arthur kicked the damp and chilly garment off to the side. Then Charles pushed him over to sit down on the dusty bed, which was blessedly still topped by a threadbare plaid wool blanket and a lumpy pillow. Arthur wriggled underneath the covers and Charles quickly stripped out of his own clothing, leaving only his union suit which he unbuttoned and rolled down to his waist.
He hesitated a moment, meeting Arthur's gaze before he asked, "Is this okay?"
Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, lips twitching into a coy smirk as he lifted the corner of the blanket in invitation. "What the hell're you talkin' about? O'course it's okay. Now get in here, Charlie, 'fore I freeze to death."
Charles laughed, not having heard that particular nickname yet, and did as he was told, sliding underneath the blanket and pulling Arthur close against his chest. Arthur groaned in relief, wrapping his arms around Charles and pressing their chests together as he sought to soak up as much of the other's heat as humanly possible.
"Mmmmh, yer so warm," he sighed. "My own personal furnace."
"Always happy to be of service," Charles said, smiling into his hair. "I just wish you hadn't needed to take an ice bath beforehand."
"Yeah," Arthur grumbled. "Hell of a fishin' trip this turned out to be." Charles felt more than heard the chuckle muffled against his chest. "Weren't all bad, though. It's been a while since I've had you all to myself like this, Mister Smith. I've missed you."
Charles hummed softly. "I've missed you too."
Arthur turned his head to kiss Charles's neck and he gasped, recoiling slightly as the icy cold met his bare skin.
"Jesus, your lips are freezing!" He pressed a kiss of his own to Arthur's mouth, lingering there until he felt some of the chill begin to recede. His lips were still a pale shade of blue, but at least beginning to regain some of their normal color.
"Not the only thing that's cold," Arthur teased when they parted. "Why don't we do somethin' to warm up a little faster?"
He said it so casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Charles snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Absolutely not."
"What? Why not?" Arthur asked, a little bit of offended confusion creeping into his tone.
"Because," Charles chuckled, flicking him on the forehead, "I can feel your prick against my leg, and it's as cold as the rest of you. Much as I may love you, Arthur, even I'm not brave enough for that."
Arthur blinked up at him, stunned, and then barked a laugh of genuine amusement. "Alright, fair point," he conceded, sighing again and shaking his head before tucking his head back under Charles's chin and closing his eyes. "That's okay, we have all night. I'm sure it'll still be ready and willing later."
Charles groaned. "You are absolutely incorrigible, Mister Morgan."
"I learned from the best."
"I'm sure you did. Now hush, and rest. I'll still be here when you wake up."
"I'll hold you to that."
It wasn't long before Arthur began to doze off, shivers slowing to a slight tremble in the warm grip of Charles's embrace. Charles hummed low in his chest, an old and nameless lullaby he knew from a lifetime ago, and stroked his hands through Arthur's hair, scratching gently at his scalp as the older man's breathing slowed and eventually changed into soft snoring. They laid there in the peaceful silence, Charles just listening to Arthur breathe and allowing himself to be comforted by the knowledge that he would be just fine, no worse for wear in spite of the close call they'd had.
Right before he could drift off himself, Arthur stirred, waking up just long enough to readjust his position, and sleepily grumbled, "Forget that stupid map, and the 'legendary Sockeye Salmon' too. The next time I go fishing for one of these bastards, it had better be in goddamned Tahiti."
Notes: Arthur is literally freezing to death and still horny on main, and Charles is so done.
Whumpcember Part 4's prompt will be "Hidden Injury" + Alternate Prompt "Concussion." See you then!