Charles Smith x Reader

Nineteen

A little sour, Charles sat in your armchair in front of the fireplace and scratched Clarence's head while you boiled some water for drinks and cleaning.

You had made him shed his shirt so that you could see if the bandages needed change and just to have a look at what the old native woman had done so that you could do the same in case it was necessary.

The scent of a herbal paste was still in the air. But the windows were wide open to get some air inside.

Maybe it was just your mind going crazy but you believed to smell the iron of his blood still. It was probably due to the stains that covered the carpet. But you wouldn't complain since you were just glad he hadn't died on it.

"Coffee or tea?", you asked with a glance over your shoulder.

Surprised you had to find Charles' gaze immediately. He had been staring at you this entire time. Even as your eyes met he did not look away nor did he seem flustered.

A moment of silence occurred in which you just stared while he took his time to examine your face, the way you stood, how you acted towards him.

"You are calm.", he said after a while, his voice now smoother and more at ease.

It was a nice voice. So nice that it reached past the layers of flesh and soothed your soul. It sounded like liquid honey yet powerful.

The way he sounded made you think of a bear that wanted to protect its cubs. Strong, persistent even, but not violent. Not unless it was necessary.

"Should I not be?", a sarcastic smile made its way to your lips.

"I'm a stranger in your home.", he noted drily.

"If you don't give me a reason to stab you in your sleep I won't turn to violence.", with a shrug, you grabbed two of your metal mugs that hung from their nails from the wall and poured hot water in. "So. Coffee or tea?"

Taking a deep breath, Charles closed his eyes and leaned back. Clarence took that as an invitation to try and climb onto his lap. But Clarence wasn't lap dog sized and Charles not in the physical condition to try and pick him up.

He slipped onto the carpet instead and remained motionless, sulking.

"What tea?", Charles asked while he pressed his palm done on his chest just the way you had shown him earlier.

"Tea.", you said. "I dunno, British."

"Is it camellia?"

A snort escaped you.

"Someone's got a fancy taste for an outlaw. Hate to disappoint you, fine sir, but it's simple black tea. Shipped from India for the peasants of the lost colony."

A thin smile of amusement was on his face as you offered him the cup. White strands of warm, damp steam filled his lungs as he took a deep breath.

His eyes fell shut and for a moment you feared he drift off right in front of you.

"Thank you.", it was a hesitant thanks, obviously insecure since he wasn't used to kindness, especially not from strangers.

"Don't sweat it.", you sat down on the edge of the carpet, a shiver crawling down your spine as your eyes briefly fell onto the deep dark stains.

Clarence left Charles to snuggle up in your lap. Thanks to the old woman of the tribe his injured ear wasn't at risk of getting infected. She had applied some paste to ease his pain and strengthen the healing process.

But just as you had feared he wouldn't hear anymore. Or at the very least hardly.

For some time the three of you sat in silence, sipping tea while you allowed him to have a look around to get used to the new space.

His hands clutched the cup. His body temperature was probably still low and he welcomed every kind of warmth he could get besides some crackling fire.

"I don't want to be noisy.", his voice was surprisingly smooth when it was stable, with a hint of a rasp in the back of his throat.

"Then don't.", you smiled with a shrug.

He stopped, looked at you and debated whether or not that was a joke or if you truly did not have any desire to keep this conversation going.

Something inside him decided to talk anyways.

"I'm sorry about the carpet.", Charles said and took a sip.

You shrugged.

"Can get a new one. I'm just glad you didn't die on me. Would have thought this place is haunted for the rest of my life."

His lips curled and the stern expression softened. Even his eyes seemed less hard now. Almost as if you had hit the spot to tear a crack into his walls.

"The women... who helped me. They are natives."

"You noticed?", you asked with a smirk and glanced up to meet his gaze. "They are from the local tribe."

"They believe that spirits are always with us."

"True. But I didn't want your spirit reside in my home till the end of time. No offence."

A snort escaped him. And once again it was noticeable just how clean his teeth were. He must pay quite some attention to his hygiene. Despite all the wounds and issues he's had Aponi had told you that there were no other disease that could cause any trouble.

For a modern world with loads of modern filth and leverage, it was quite uncommon to not have any type of infection or problem that required medical attention.

Perhaps he even knew a little about healing herbs and how to cure minor infections. Judging by his heritage and the way he talked about the natives of this land, so familiar and educated, that did not seem entirely impossible.

"None taken.", he said with his thin eyebrows raised while his gaze was glued to the bottom of his almost empty cup. "I thought it would be over for me."

"But it's not. So quit ruining the mood.... makes me feel depressed.", you snickered and got up to fetch him some more hot water and new tea leaves. "You hungry?"

He didn't get to answer that question. The growl of his stomach was faster.