Charles Smith x Reader

Twenty

It turned out that Charles knew how to cook. Not just simple stew but actual good food that filled the house with a kind of scent strong enough to make your nose forget the stench of blood that stuck to the wooden boards.

Mesmerised you watched as he took a knife as if it were a matter of fact for him to help you and started to cut some red onions, carrots and potatoes.

Then he looked around before his eyes fell on you in an expecting manner.

Confused, you smiled and tilted your head.

"No meat?", he asked with his eyebrows raised, head lowered to meet you more on the same level.

You had expected him to be tall, but Charles was also large. So large in fact that his shadow managed to fall over you like a layer of transparent silk.

As you felt it touch your (S/C) skin, your heart skipped a beat and a soft breath of surprise squeezed out between your lips.

He waited, eyes locked with yours. Even though he was the size that he was, probably well over six feet tall, he didn't radiate the slightest hint of a threat.

Quite the opposite even.

You could feel how he purposely kept his shoulders low, how his knees were bend to lower himself more towards your eye level.

He did his best to appear soft and harmless even though this position visibly hurt him in his legs and the shoulder that was wounded.

Swallowing hard, and without using your brain, you placed your palm on his chest ever so gently and gave him a push.

Out of reflex his back straightened and legs stretched. Now he was a few inches taller but still appeared so friendly, you felt the urge to try a hug from him.

Your legs twitched, lips moved to ask a question you would regret. But you didn't. In the end you cleared your throat and turned away so that the burning feeling that his eyes caused in you would die down.

"I... uh... I didn't hunt the past days.", you wiped your eyes with one hand, totally believing that this was just the exhaustion of the recent events that made your mind not think straight. "We're out of anything. So veggies will have to do for now."

For a moment he glanced at the contents that simmered inside the metal pot. It wasn't a bad meal but it wouldn't satisfy a man of his size for long. And he had no intentions taking more from you than was absolutely necessary.

He was already in your dept enough.

"I can hunt.", Charles said and already headed for the door.

"W-wait!", completely lost you grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling him back into the house. "You're injured. You shouldn't even be up yet."

He looked at his wounds, clean bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

"I'll be fine.", he said.

"No you won't. Sit back down. You shouldn't even walk. How can you even, if I may ask?"

Defeated, he let out a sigh. His shoulders sank again, but to make himself small but because it took too much effort to keep them straightened.

"Took some medicine. The old lady gave me some. For the pain.", his palm pressed against his chest to help the air that got stuck to loosen up.

You frowned.

"Aponi told me it won't be as effective as the medication of settlers."

"Aponi? The old woman?"

"No, the young one. She translated."

His eyebrows rose.

"Yeah... I remember her.", all of a sudden his face twisted and a flinch chased through his limbs.

Taken by surprise Charles stumbled back, hitting the door. His nails dug into the wood, desperate for something to hold onto.

You rushed forward to catch him. Even though he was a larger than you, you still managed to stabilise him enough so that he wouldn't crash to the ground.

With his teeth clenched and his breath heavy he sunk down along the wall until solid ground was below him. A curse left his lips while his legs trembled with pain.

"Jesus.", you gasped and fetched a wet towel from the kitchen to wipe his face. "You didn't take anything she gave you, did ya?"

His eyes opened a crack wide. Out of reflex he tried to scoot away, obviously hiding something that giggled in his pocket.

You didn't feel proud of it but you used his moment of weakness to reach into his pocket and pull out whatever he tried to hide. He tried to refuse but was too weak.

A small brown glass bottle appeared. Pills giggled inside. Irritated, you turned the medication container in your hand before throwing him a glance from the corner of your eyes.

"You got into my medication drawer?", you asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not proud of it either...", he replied with a growl. "I needed... to be on my feet..."

"Charles, you were fatally injured. You should rest. How many did you even take? It says two's the limit."

Beads of sweat ran down the side of his face. They got caught in those long, wavy strands of his black hair and made them stick together.

You could smell salt and chemicals on his skin.

"Maybe I took some more...", he muttered and tried to adjust his position to give his legs space to rest on the ground.

"How many?", you grabbed his chin, admittedly a little harsh, and forced him to meet your gaze. "Charles, I'm serious. It says two max. More can be poisonous. Not great in your condition."

His lips moved. White teeth appeared as he tried to swallow a curse only to yelp in pain as his muscles contracted and made his entire body cramp.

"Four...", his breath was hoarse.

"Are you fucking serious?", your grip on his chin tightened.

He hissed, eyes squeezed shut.

"No... maybe... maybe a few more...", he needed to take a deep breath as if the air made his lungs burn. "I took... as many as I needed... till the pain was gone..."