Hair and Compromises - Lost - Charlie/Desmond
Title: Hair and Compromises
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 530
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for Queen jenthegypsy, who asked for Desmond. I was unable to resist writing my OTP in an AU where Charlie is alive and well (while also indulging in my personal kink for established relationships). Using a prompt from writing_rainbow.
Summary: Charlie tries to convince Desmond to come to a concert with him.
Charlie always finds himself playing with Desmond's hair: touching it, stroking it, brushing his fingers through it. It's softer than it looks, and the colour is different depending on the way that light hits it. Charlie's own hair has always been something of a disappointment. Straw-like and thin, there's nothing he can do with it. The one time that he tried growing it out he felt like a character from the Wizard of Oz, so that plan never went too far.
But Desmond...
Desmond's hair is designed for rocking out. If ever there's proof that God exists, Charlie thinks it's somewhere in all that hair on top of his boyfriend's head. Sadly, if there's proof that the devil also exists, it's in the fact that Desmond refuses to come out to any gigs with him. "C'mon, mate, please. I'll buy the tickets and everything. It's bloody Springsteen. How can anyone not like Springsteen?"
"I don't go to concerts, Charlie," Desmond says. He doesn't even look up from the book he's reading, flipping towards the next page with a pair of fingers. His head shifts where it's resting in Charlie's lap, getting more comfortable while making Charlie more uncomfortable at the same time: he compensates himself by twirling one of Desmond's locks around his finger. "I like staying in."
"Not every. single. night."
"I used to be a monk. I'm used to staying in."
"Bollocks. We go out all the time. Dates and stuff." Short-lived dinners that led to them coming home in the early evening: they'd spend the night slowly shagging, Charlie's breath coming in tight gasps as he felt the connection between them growing stronger. The sex always leaves him unable to move for a good long while, the rush from the reminder that they've defeated fate almost over-powering every single time. It's good, it's brilliant, and he wouldn't trade it for the world - but he really does want to go to this concert.
"Can't Claire go with you?" Desmond suggests, ever the peacemaker.
Charlie huffs a sigh and gives a tiny tug on Desmond's hair. "I want you to go."
It's enough to get Desmond to close his book and look up at him, though he keeps his thumb inside it to mark his place. His brown eyes are questioning and slightly bewildered: they'd demand an answer even if he didn't directly ask for one. "Why?"
Charlie could tell him about the hair thing - but he knows that won't be enough. "Music's important to me," he says, winging it. "And you're important to me. The two important things in my life should be melded together from time to time, right?"
For a few moments, Desmond frowns and Charlie doesn't think it's going to work after all - but he sees it on Desmond's face before he even says anything. He's going to relent.
"You get the tickets," Desmond says, "and I'll come. Alright, brother?"
"Yeah." Charlie nods, delighted; he doesn't bother to fight the wide grin on his face, and he leans down at an incredibly awkward angle to snatch a kiss from Desmond's lips, able to feel a few strands of that gorgeous hair tickling against his face.
Pairing: Charlie/Desmond
Word Count: 530
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for Queen jenthegypsy, who asked for Desmond. I was unable to resist writing my OTP in an AU where Charlie is alive and well (while also indulging in my personal kink for established relationships). Using a prompt from writing_rainbow.
Summary: Charlie tries to convince Desmond to come to a concert with him.
Charlie always finds himself playing with Desmond's hair: touching it, stroking it, brushing his fingers through it. It's softer than it looks, and the colour is different depending on the way that light hits it. Charlie's own hair has always been something of a disappointment. Straw-like and thin, there's nothing he can do with it. The one time that he tried growing it out he felt like a character from the Wizard of Oz, so that plan never went too far.
But Desmond...
Desmond's hair is designed for rocking out. If ever there's proof that God exists, Charlie thinks it's somewhere in all that hair on top of his boyfriend's head. Sadly, if there's proof that the devil also exists, it's in the fact that Desmond refuses to come out to any gigs with him. "C'mon, mate, please. I'll buy the tickets and everything. It's bloody Springsteen. How can anyone not like Springsteen?"
"I don't go to concerts, Charlie," Desmond says. He doesn't even look up from the book he's reading, flipping towards the next page with a pair of fingers. His head shifts where it's resting in Charlie's lap, getting more comfortable while making Charlie more uncomfortable at the same time: he compensates himself by twirling one of Desmond's locks around his finger. "I like staying in."
"Not every. single. night."
"I used to be a monk. I'm used to staying in."
"Bollocks. We go out all the time. Dates and stuff." Short-lived dinners that led to them coming home in the early evening: they'd spend the night slowly shagging, Charlie's breath coming in tight gasps as he felt the connection between them growing stronger. The sex always leaves him unable to move for a good long while, the rush from the reminder that they've defeated fate almost over-powering every single time. It's good, it's brilliant, and he wouldn't trade it for the world - but he really does want to go to this concert.
"Can't Claire go with you?" Desmond suggests, ever the peacemaker.
Charlie huffs a sigh and gives a tiny tug on Desmond's hair. "I want you to go."
It's enough to get Desmond to close his book and look up at him, though he keeps his thumb inside it to mark his place. His brown eyes are questioning and slightly bewildered: they'd demand an answer even if he didn't directly ask for one. "Why?"
Charlie could tell him about the hair thing - but he knows that won't be enough. "Music's important to me," he says, winging it. "And you're important to me. The two important things in my life should be melded together from time to time, right?"
For a few moments, Desmond frowns and Charlie doesn't think it's going to work after all - but he sees it on Desmond's face before he even says anything. He's going to relent.
"You get the tickets," Desmond says, "and I'll come. Alright, brother?"
"Yeah." Charlie nods, delighted; he doesn't bother to fight the wide grin on his face, and he leans down at an incredibly awkward angle to snatch a kiss from Desmond's lips, able to feel a few strands of that gorgeous hair tickling against his face.