4rtemusGordon
Last of The WIld Wild West fans
"Jim! I've got something for you to try on."
James groaned, running a hand over his face. It was early in the morning, and they were supposed to be sleeping in since they'd finished a major assignment. Although, Artemus apparently had different ideas.
"Artemus, whatever you have better be- what is that?" Jim stumbled out of the sleeping car into the main compartment. Artemus was holding up what looked like a shirt, but seemed much too small to actually be one. The sleeves were non-existent as well.
"Well, Jim, I was up last night thinking about what you and I had been talking about, when I realized the answer to your problem." Artemus held out the black fabric. James slowly took it, looking it over.
"And you believe a tiny shirt is the answer to my- problem?" Artemus smiled exasperatedly at James.
"Jim, it's not a shirt. I call it a binder. It should help flatten your chest."
James glanced between the 'binder' and Artemus. "- Alright. Thank you. That's- very considerate of you."
"Just don't wear it for too long, okay? And-"
But james had already gone to try it on.
The binder was- different. It was smooth and soft. A bit stiff though. James examined himself in the mirror. He was surprised at the sheer handiwork gone into it. Artie had obviously put a lot of love into the invention.
That night, Jim didn't take it off. Neither the next night or the night after that. It felt good, to look down and see himself as he ought to be.
But then-
"Jim!" Artemus hurried to his partner's side, concern flagrant in his eyes as James groaned. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep himself from curling in on himself. Modesty be damned, he was in pure agony, an agony he'd hardly ever experienced before, physically at least. No pain could rival that of believing he'd murdered his then best friend after Loveless had drugged him. The only possible good consequence that came out of it was it had been the push James needed to admit his long held adoration for Artemus. Artemus was special. He was intelligent, sharp on his feet and sharper with his tongue. He respected James, even before he'd realized who he actually was. The man was just good company, not only for his looks, but his inventive spirit. Artemus was comfort. He was home, represented everything James loved about his job and humanity. James couldn't count a time he hadn't recognized Artie from one of his various disguises. Artemus was just that ingrained into his soul. He only needed one good look at those brilliant eyes. Those brilliant eyes that were now darting over him with terror, trying to seek out the source of his pain.
"I'm fine. I'm fine!" He quickly tried to straighten himself into a sitting position, but the action caused him to cringe and fall back. His nails dug into his dress shirt, threatening to rip the fabric apart. Artemus gave a small scoff. He wasn't an idiot. A little eccentric sometimes, but that came with the job. He helped James up just enough so he could lean on him. Artemus felt guilt course through him. This was his fault. He knew exactly why James was in so much pain.
"Take it off."
James glanced towards Artemus, his eyes moving more than his head. His breathing was labored. He knew exactly why he was feeling this way, as much as Artie did, but he couldn't bear himself to remove the offending piece. James felt like an actual man for once. Not just a mess of dysphoria and loathing. A little pain was more than worth that, even if Artie couldn't see that.
The man in question carefully moved James to rest against the headboard of the bed, his normally shining eyes dimmer than usual. Coated in abject horror and glassy with a culpable stare. He gently raised James' chin so they were on equal ground regarding eye contact.
"Please, Jim-"
"Artie, don't-"
"-Jim, listen. I didn't make it for you so you could slowly kill yourself with it. I made it so you could feel better about yourself. Please, take it off. You've been wearing that for a week now. You must be in agony."
And there it was. One of their many, infamous stare offs. James' heterochromatic sea green and ocean blue versus Artemus' tender hazel eyes. The contact felt like it'd lasted hours, but in reality, was only minutes.
In the end, Jim sighed and turned his head away. "Fine."
Artemus gave a melancholy smile and got up from his position on the floor, heading towards the next compartment. Before he reached the door, he turned back to his lover.
"I'll run you a tub. I'll be back in a minute. It'll give me a new opportunity to test out a new mixture I've been working on to help you with your tension."
James laughed. "Alright, but if I'm going to be your guinea pig, I expect you to be there as well." He remarked. The pout was palpable in Artie's voice.
"I told you not to add so much, Jim. It's not my fault you can't listen to directions." Jim rolled his eyes as he laid his shirt across the bed and hesitantly pulled the piece of fabric keeping his dysphoria in place off.
"That's part of my charm, isn't it?" He carefully rolled off the bed, a hand sliding across the wall to the compartment across from him. He could hear Artie laugh again, amidst the cascade of running water and something splashing inside.
"Yeah, well, sometimes I think you've got too much charm for your own good." He was just able to catch as he entered the bathroom. Artemus' head turned to him, and he stood from his position of kneeling by the tub.
"Hey Artie." he mumbled tiredly. Artie went to help Jim get into the tub. "Not gonna join me?"
"No. Your body has been through enough. It needs to fully relax."
And relax it did.
James groaned, running a hand over his face. It was early in the morning, and they were supposed to be sleeping in since they'd finished a major assignment. Although, Artemus apparently had different ideas.
"Artemus, whatever you have better be- what is that?" Jim stumbled out of the sleeping car into the main compartment. Artemus was holding up what looked like a shirt, but seemed much too small to actually be one. The sleeves were non-existent as well.
"Well, Jim, I was up last night thinking about what you and I had been talking about, when I realized the answer to your problem." Artemus held out the black fabric. James slowly took it, looking it over.
"And you believe a tiny shirt is the answer to my- problem?" Artemus smiled exasperatedly at James.
"Jim, it's not a shirt. I call it a binder. It should help flatten your chest."
James glanced between the 'binder' and Artemus. "- Alright. Thank you. That's- very considerate of you."
"Just don't wear it for too long, okay? And-"
But james had already gone to try it on.
The binder was- different. It was smooth and soft. A bit stiff though. James examined himself in the mirror. He was surprised at the sheer handiwork gone into it. Artie had obviously put a lot of love into the invention.
That night, Jim didn't take it off. Neither the next night or the night after that. It felt good, to look down and see himself as he ought to be.
But then-
"Jim!" Artemus hurried to his partner's side, concern flagrant in his eyes as James groaned. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep himself from curling in on himself. Modesty be damned, he was in pure agony, an agony he'd hardly ever experienced before, physically at least. No pain could rival that of believing he'd murdered his then best friend after Loveless had drugged him. The only possible good consequence that came out of it was it had been the push James needed to admit his long held adoration for Artemus. Artemus was special. He was intelligent, sharp on his feet and sharper with his tongue. He respected James, even before he'd realized who he actually was. The man was just good company, not only for his looks, but his inventive spirit. Artemus was comfort. He was home, represented everything James loved about his job and humanity. James couldn't count a time he hadn't recognized Artie from one of his various disguises. Artemus was just that ingrained into his soul. He only needed one good look at those brilliant eyes. Those brilliant eyes that were now darting over him with terror, trying to seek out the source of his pain.
"I'm fine. I'm fine!" He quickly tried to straighten himself into a sitting position, but the action caused him to cringe and fall back. His nails dug into his dress shirt, threatening to rip the fabric apart. Artemus gave a small scoff. He wasn't an idiot. A little eccentric sometimes, but that came with the job. He helped James up just enough so he could lean on him. Artemus felt guilt course through him. This was his fault. He knew exactly why James was in so much pain.
"Take it off."
James glanced towards Artemus, his eyes moving more than his head. His breathing was labored. He knew exactly why he was feeling this way, as much as Artie did, but he couldn't bear himself to remove the offending piece. James felt like an actual man for once. Not just a mess of dysphoria and loathing. A little pain was more than worth that, even if Artie couldn't see that.
The man in question carefully moved James to rest against the headboard of the bed, his normally shining eyes dimmer than usual. Coated in abject horror and glassy with a culpable stare. He gently raised James' chin so they were on equal ground regarding eye contact.
"Please, Jim-"
"Artie, don't-"
"-Jim, listen. I didn't make it for you so you could slowly kill yourself with it. I made it so you could feel better about yourself. Please, take it off. You've been wearing that for a week now. You must be in agony."
And there it was. One of their many, infamous stare offs. James' heterochromatic sea green and ocean blue versus Artemus' tender hazel eyes. The contact felt like it'd lasted hours, but in reality, was only minutes.
In the end, Jim sighed and turned his head away. "Fine."
Artemus gave a melancholy smile and got up from his position on the floor, heading towards the next compartment. Before he reached the door, he turned back to his lover.
"I'll run you a tub. I'll be back in a minute. It'll give me a new opportunity to test out a new mixture I've been working on to help you with your tension."
James laughed. "Alright, but if I'm going to be your guinea pig, I expect you to be there as well." He remarked. The pout was palpable in Artie's voice.
"I told you not to add so much, Jim. It's not my fault you can't listen to directions." Jim rolled his eyes as he laid his shirt across the bed and hesitantly pulled the piece of fabric keeping his dysphoria in place off.
"That's part of my charm, isn't it?" He carefully rolled off the bed, a hand sliding across the wall to the compartment across from him. He could hear Artie laugh again, amidst the cascade of running water and something splashing inside.
"Yeah, well, sometimes I think you've got too much charm for your own good." He was just able to catch as he entered the bathroom. Artemus' head turned to him, and he stood from his position of kneeling by the tub.
"Hey Artie." he mumbled tiredly. Artie went to help Jim get into the tub. "Not gonna join me?"
"No. Your body has been through enough. It needs to fully relax."
And relax it did.
