Want
Title: "Want"
Author: prettysirenx/PrettySiren
Rating: PG-13 (strong PG-13)
Pairing: Miles/Charlie (Marlie), Charlie/Monroe (Charloe)
Warnings: Incest. Language. Sexual activities.
Words: 690
Spoilers: Takes place AFTER "Dead Man Walking"...no particular spoilers.
Summary: A slightly off-kilter love triangle (regarding the above-referenced ships) and angst galore.
Author's Note: This is the first Revolution fic I've posted in...almost a year. But recent episodes just put this idea into my head and I just had to and I'm not sorry. (I hope you enjoy!)
Charlie never got what she wanted. She wanted her dad to be alive; she wanted her brother to be alive; she wanted to be back home...wherever home was. She wanted to have ice cream again.
There was so much she wanted...she was so used to being frustrated.
Ever since coming to Texas, things were different between her and Miles. They'd missed each other too much. Now that they were together again, it was as though there was some subconscious drive to reinforce that bond through hugs and touches and things they would've never done before; before, they hugged each other when bad things happened. Now, they hugged each other just because they wanted the other one near.
And that's how it was right now; now, when the night is late and the drink is strong, and they find themselves alone. Neither knew how it happened, but he had his arm around her and her cheek was pressed against his chest.
It was like a game to see how each could up the ante, pull the other closer, move in closer, until they were so close...Charlie turned her head so that her nose brushed the notch of his collarbone. She took in his heady smell, the intoxicating smell, and nuzzled him. Her lips found his neck and then his lips and he kissed her back so hard it made her lips hurt. It wasn't a game anymore.
He threw his bottle onto the ground and she dropped hers. He pulled her into him until her pelvis ground into his and she felt his cock harden, pressing into her. She rubbed against it, throwing her head back as his kisses trailed down her neck. His cock was unmistakably ready now; that sensation seemed to abruptly wake him from this wonderful dream.
Hands on her waist, he physically lifted her off of him. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head.
"We can't," is all he said. "You know we can't."
She felt like he'd punched her in the gut. She said nothing. She saw her drink had landed right-side up and had some left and that was good enough for her-it was all she could salvage from this situation.
She walked like a mindless zombie to the other side of town. She just wanted to be far away from him. Then, maybe, she wouldn't feel like this, like she was dying of this.
This was only want. Nothing more. She could want anyone; she should want anyone else. For God's sake, he was her uncle. She had to want someone else.
Someone else thought they'd watch the fireflies over the pond, too. Monroe sat there, drinking moonshine.
He heard her crunching the grass behind him with each angry footfall and looked over his shoulder to regard her.
"Drop your pants," she said briskly.
"I think it's actually pronounced 'howdy' around here." He sipped his drink.
She sat beside him on the hood of the busted down Plymouth Fury. He looked closer at her face and sobered.
"Who hurt you, Charlotte?"
"Nothing. A guy."
"Should I go kill him?"
"Would you kill Miles if I asked you to?"
"No."
There was deafening silence, loud as thunder. Monroe broke it after a beat which lasted eons.
"But Charlie...you and him can't..."
"I know!" she cried. Then, she immediately hardened. "That's why you and I are doing it. Right now."
He gently played with her bracelet, brushing her wrist so sweetly, she felt like crying.
He took a thoughtful pause, lost in the beads wound around her wrist, hiding his mark, forever burned on her.
"I can't be the one you fuck when you'd rather be with him."
"Why not?"
"Because it would hurt. Me."
Charlie felt horrible. She caught his hand with hers and leaned her head on his shoulder. She wouldn't do to him what Miles had done to her. Because it would be worse. Miles didn't know what he did until it was too late; she knew. She knew she was Bass’s Miles.
So, they just stared at the fireflies and drank the moon. It was all they could do.