[[A slow burn OCxArthur story with both new and original characters]]
They say the best things in life are unplanned. But sometimes... they're the worst.
After the Blackwater catastrophe, Arthur feels the heavy weight of responsibility; being one o...
[AN: long chapter, sorry! there wasn't a good split point and I didn't wanna cut out moments with our fav unstable ship hehe]
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"Uh, well... how do I look?"
A rush of eagerness hit me when Arthur moseyed uncomfortably out of the dressing room of the Saint Denis tailor, donning a very nice slim-fit tuxedo suit. He was fiddling with a bright white bowtie that was latched crookedly on his collar. I stood up, grinning at the sight.
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"Quite handsome, if I do say so myself." I made my way behind him as he ducked his face, standing on my tiptoes to adjust the bowtie. "There. Now you're ready for business!"
Dutch had sent me, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill (in place of John, who absolutely refused to go to the party) to go get some actual dress clothes for the garden party thrown by the mayor. That included a haircut, leaving Arthur looking sharp -- I had to admit, it was a nice change to the usual rugged gunslinger look, though I had already fallen for that as well it seems.
This was a few days after the return of Jack; Arthur and I had pretty much danced around each other for those days; we clearly wanted to talk more, but also didn't really want to let anyone see us together for too long and get talking about us. He was almost always gone away on tasks that Dutch kept throwing at him, anyway, and I'd been doing chores in camp... We didn't even really have time to process together. Even if we did, I don't think we'd know much to say or do. It was a confusing and awkward few days, as you could imagine.
"If the business includes bein' tighter than a stick up the ass, I'll be all set," Arthur grumbled, pulling at the edge of his suit. I couldn't help but laugh at the statement.
"Seriously, you look great." I paused, my hand still on his collarbone after moving to the front to fix his bowtie. He looked down at me, a small smirk upturning the corners of his mouth.
"Ain't you got some dress to try on anyway?" His words pushed me forward, although he didn't move and kept his eyes on mine. My heart fluttered at the look -- we really hadn't had any physical interaction since that fateful night, and I itched just to be able to hold him despite my frustrations with the situation. I could still hardly believe I'd convinced myself to stay, much less attend this posh party with the man I was in a weird, half-romantic situation with.
It's like we were both just barely gliding over the tension that threatened to break our front to everyone. Painful yet thrilling, to say the least. Certainly was making some good poetry inspiration for me.
"Indeed." I forced my hand to drop, snatching the dress I'd been eyeing the whole time, and dipped into the dressing room without another word. Getting it on as quick as I could, I turned to face myself in the mirror. I was pleasantly surprised to see that the first try already was a perfect fit -- that never happens, does it?
It was an emerald green velvety dress that tightened at the waist with a corset design around the waist and flared out, resting comfortably on the hips. It accentuated the figure without being too tight, just how I liked it. There was beautiful lacework across the scooped neckline, including embroidered flowers along and just below the bust that. It paired perfectly with a sunhat and my Mama's locket that rested right at the collarbone. I adjusted everything till it was just right, then stepped out. "Now, I think I like this one!"
