Wild, Wild West. || Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

8

By the time morning arrived the next day, you seemed to sleep in longer than usual. The past few days had been tough, but you didn't think you'd be that worn out.

Once you got out of bed and got dressed, you stepped into the hallway, only to notice that the door of the guest room remained closed. You didn't hear much talk coming from the kitchen, so you could only assume Charlie was still in bed.

Carefully, you twisted the handle and pushed the door, a soft creak echoing throughout the room as you stepped inside. Just as you had thought, Charlie was still cuddled up in bed, sound asleep. He honestly seemed peaceful and definitely more comfortable than he was in the hotel.

You couldn't help but smile a bit, gently taking a seat on the edge of the bed as you stared at him. As the bed shifted slightly, though, he seemed to stir a bit, his eyes opening drowsily as he stared up at you.

"Oh- sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." You spoke softly, staring down at the tired boy with a small smile.

He rubbed his eyes before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and placing them on his face. Once his eyes adjusted, he gave a small yawn. "No, no, you're fine.. it's probably time to get up anyway.."

Giving him a small nod, you smiled before rising to your feet. "I'm sure my Pa' is off to work now. It's just my Ma' here making breakfast. After we eat, you're free to leave if you'd like."

"Trying to get rid of me already, huh?" Charlie joked, giving a small yawn as he sat up. The blanket fell slightly, revealing his bare chest and arms, and though it seemed weird, you couldn't help but stare for a moment.

He was riddled with cuts and scars, an occasional bruise, too. You tried not to look for too long, but it was enough to catch Charlie's attention. Giving a sigh, he rubbed his arm slightly. "Doing dirty work isn't all just guns and glory, I hope you know. Tumbling through the woods, running from the law- my body isn't exactly in the best shape-"

Before he could explain any further, you took a few steps forward, crouching down to inspect further. Each mark on him seemed to tell a story, yet there was one scar you couldn't seem to ignore. A large 'x' shape that lingered across his stomach, seeming darker than the others.

You had seen something like this before.

Placing your hand over the scar without warning, Charlie seemed to wince slightly. "Woah, you can look, but I didn't say anything about tou-"

"You were a sherrif." You spoke softly as you looked up at him, his eyes seeming to widen at the sudden accusation.

Shaking his head, Charlie held his hand up. "Now hold on, what makes you think that?" He asked, his tone seeming to grow a bit nervous.

Pulling your hand away from the scar, you looked at him with worried eyes. "On the other side of the state- there was always a tale of a gang who solely existed for the purpose of torturing the law." You began to explain softly, inspecting the other marks that riddled his body. "Every time they managed to capture someone- a sherrif, deputy, lawman.. they'd torture them ruthlessly before dumping their body into the forest to die."

"With every victim they claimed," You continued on, looking up and into Charlie's eyes for a moment, "They would carve an 'x' into their stomach in order to leave a mark. Anyone with the mark was publicly shamed for being bad at their job, allowing themselves to be caught by a criminal.."

Charlie seemed to stare at you in disbelief, almost surprised with how much you knew. Without another word, he pulled away and stood up, putting his shirt on before buttoning it back up. Though he seemed to ignore you, you continued on. "You were a sherrif who was captured.. so ashamed by defeat, you fled your home and moved down south.."