Fanfiction, chapter 5 of "Change"
Hello there, everyone! It's been quite awhile since I last posted or updated this story, I doubt many of you even remember (or to the new members) know who I am. Well, I'm back now with an update! Hooray! Since it's been, as I said, a "while," you can find the first 4 chapters here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2531305/1/ to, ah . . ."refresh" your memory. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and comments and criticisms are all welcome (but no flaming garbage if you please... the warnings are all there) And now for (finally) chapter 5!
Title: "Change," Chapter 5, "A Decisive Decision"
By: SKC
Rating: M
Disclamier: These wonderful characters did not spring forth from the depths of my mind, but Roald Dahls.
Warning: I don't think MM counts as a warning in a place that exsists for the promotion of a MM couple, but there are dealings with a minor.
Story Summery: Willy Wonka struggles with the fact that he may just be in love with his dear protege, Charlie . . .
Chapter Summery: Willy Wonka makes a decision and formulates a plan . . .
“Change”
Chapter 5
“A Decisive Decision”
Willy Wonka carefully closed the cover of the now throughly read and memorized report on the mishap in the Chocolate Room, a frown creasing his delicate features as he stared pass the now closed cover. With a sigh, he wheeled himself back from his polished cheery desk to steeple his gloved hands together in thought. It was only now, after hearing all accounts of what had happened from the Oompa Loompas, and reading through the completed report of the accident, that he realized how serious it had been; what with the threat of contamination to his entire source of chocolate, unknown delays in inspection, clean up, rebuilding and production, not to mention the fact that all but one of his seams would have been ripped clear of his pocket with the expense.
*Would have been.* Three very important words as they were the only place where the threats existed for they had never come to pass, at least not in any desperate sense. Why not? Willy knew exactly why not, and it was on this salvation that he was now so deeply entrenched in thought.
“Charlie . . .” The boy was amazing. This fact, of course, was not something that had been lost on Wonka but he was astounded that he had never realized just how *capable* the boy had become. Simply put, Charlie had done an amazing job; as well, or dare he say it, even *better* than he, the great Willy Wonka would have done. Charlie had somehow managed to avoid the looming delays and ridiculous expenses, completing both clean up and repairs in record time and *still* had the time to check up on his ailing mentor at the end of the day.
A surge of shame coursed through the candy maker. He had been completely useless during the whole affair, and the reason for his absence had been anything but honourable. Mrs. Bucket was right, Charlie really *did* work very hard, and Willy was doing anything but making the workload any easier.
Sighing deeply, Willy pulled himself from the comfort of his plush office chair and retrieving his cane from its place against his desk, he began pacing the length of his emerald floor rug. The thought of him being a hindrance to Charlie was now, of *course*, bringing the memory of occupying Charlie’s bed to mind, not to mention all of the events that were tied to it; the feel of the boy against his hip, the brush of his fingers through his hair, against his face, his lips, and the intoxicating scent of Charlie himself all leading to a climax of an *incredible* dream that Willy was having great difficulty in banishing from his mind.
Wonka halted in mid step. This simply could *not* continue. He *had* to find a solution to this “problem,” and the first thing he had to do was answer one question: Did he want to pursue a relationship with Charlie or not? He already knew that he wanted the boy and now he was sure that he was in love with him, but could he actually find the courage to *initiate* anything? Charlie’s behaviour the previous night was certainly encouraging and try as he might Willy couldn’t find a better reason for Charlie’s actions other than, at the very least, a partial return of similar feelings. But what of the whole “age” dilemma? Just where exactly *did* that situation stand? In truth, Willy had never felt the need to “delve deeply” into any information relating to “romantic” relationships, for he had never experienced one. He was not, however, completely in the dark on such matters, he knew what a pedophile was, and for a while, he had been terrified that he was such a thing himself. Did the term apply to him? He was beginning to think that maybe, it did not. A “pedophile,” as far as Willy knew, was someone who acted on “lust,” who craved the exploitation of the innocence that only a child could possess. Willy didn’t want to hurt Charlie, and most certainly didn’t want to exploit him. He wanted Charlie to know *exactly* what was happening, to recognize Willy’s feelings for what they were, and genuinely experience them in return. Would Charlie know what was happening? Willy was positive that he would, the boy had more maturity than he himself would ever have, Charlie’s handling of the Chocolate Room fiasco was proof enough of that. But exactly how young, was too young? Although the idea of judging a child’s maturity by a number seemed quite crude to Willy, surely the law of land had settled on something it deemed “appropriate?”
And then a thought occurred to him. How *old* was Charlie anyway? Age had never been that important to Willy before and he had hardly paid any attention to the number of candles on the boy’s birthday cakes, except perhaps to wait in eager anticipation for Charlie’s reaction for when the candles would run away from the lighted match, screaming bloody murder all over the icing. And speaking of birthdays . . . hadn’t Mr. Bucket mentioned something about getting Charlie a birthday present that morning? And hadn’t he, Willy Wonka, dreamt about it that very morning? Indeed he had. In the mists of his mental agonizing over Charlie, Willy Wonka had somehow managed to completely ignore the fact that Charlie’s birthday was an up and coming event.((*Brilliant* Willy. You’ve somehow managed to forget everything important about the boy by thinking about him.)) But, how old *was* Charlie going to be? He finally forced himself to think back . . . Sixteen. Yes, it that must have been right. Charlie was going to be sixteen. Surely that was old enough for Charlie to have any kind of relationship he wanted?
Wonka let out a huff. After leaving the Bucket home that morning, (whereupon opening the door he had been greeted by the entire Oompa Loompa population with their Broadway rendition of (to his horror) his little episode with the bush) he had promised to meet up with Charlie later that day in the inventing room after he had seen to the Chocolate River reports, and now here he was wasting time asking questions and receiving no answers. Well it was time to put a stop that right now.
Willy glanced towards the large maple doors of his private library and with a quick breath he made a final decision. He strode towards the doors of the library and pulled them open; it was time to get some answers. . .
~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W
The personal library of Willy Wonka was one of the most (if not *the* most) comprehensive in the entire world, and the amazing sight of rows upon rows of books of all shapes and sizes, and of all possible subjects that stretched as far as the eye could see certainly boasted to that fact. A scholar’s dream and seeker’s nightmare as this incredible display of literature was rather intimidating when faced with the task of finding one particular book, especially when Wonka’s methods of organization was not in any kind of order that most would consider to be reasonable. But the library was, of course, intended for Willy Wonka, not other people, so this fact was irrelevant.
Willy knew what book he was looking for and although it was one of his least favourite, he had a pretty good idea of where to find it.
“Let’s see . . . ‘Law’ . . . is it with the ‘awe’ inspiring books or the ‘awful’ books? . . . Well there’s certainly nothing ‘inspiring’ about it, so it must be with latter.”
Luckily, the “Awful” group of books was only one floor up from the entrance, and one trip up a spiraling and swirling staircase later, Willy was reaching for the large, stern looking book called, “Law of the Land.”
Wonka lugged the heavy book to a nearby reading table, and flopped down with a sigh into one of the comfy armchairs that surrounded the highly polished table, his cane across his lap.
He sat back in the chair, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the vaulted ceiling, he took a deep breath. Did he really even *want* to know this? Right now, he was fancying the idea that maybe being in love with fifteen-year-old-soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old was really not that bad, what if this book said otherwise? What if it didn’t? No, . . . he had to know. It was somewhere to start at least, whether he tried to pursue something with Charlie or not.
He steeled his resolve, sitting up straight, and after leaning his cane against his chair, he pulled the book towards him. He flipped open the book to it’s table of contents, searching through an unbelievable listing of laws until he found what he was looking for and flipped to the appropriate page and began to read:
“AGE OF CONSENT”
“A person is considered to be of the age of consent at 16 yrs (heterosexual or homosexual) with the exception of an older partner (more than 2 yrs senior) being in a position of power or influence over the younger, in which case the age of consent must be 18yrs.”
Willy slowly closed the book, not sure if he should feel some sort of relief or not. Charlie would be sixteen years old, and according to this, Charlie would legally be able to speak for himself. This fact did help with the guilt factor somewhat, but not completely, for there was still one pesky little problem; Willy Wonka was most definitely in a position of power over Charlie Bucket. The boy was his protégé, he was Charlie’s mentor, employer and partial provider, and there was no way that he could deny any of that.
Wonka deflated, feeling utterly defeated. He had felt an unreal surge of hope when he had first read the beginning of the law that had said the age of consent was sixteen years, but now . . . Could he really survive the torture of a two year wait? The thought was not a pleasant one to say the least. Then again . . . there was always the option of defying the law. But Willy squashed that idea as soon as it was formed, it was too selfish of an option. What if he were prosecuted? His reputation, along with his company would be ruined, leaving Charlie with nothing but shame and humiliation.
Willy glared at the book, frustration beginning to get the better of him. It made no sense, did these people honestly think that someone had some sort of revelation about the meaning sex at a certain age? The fact was that everyone matured at different times in their lives, why just look at Charlie! How could anyone imply that he was anything but capable of making his own decisions about *anything* when he had handled a situation such as yesterday’s catastrophe with as much skill and maturity as any grown man would have done. Charlie was one of the most selfless and dedicated workers that Willy had ever known. Why, it wouldn’t even surprise him if Charlie would want to keep working on his birthday . . .
It was then that it all came together and Willy couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen the solution before. He jumped out of his chair and grabbing his cane once again, ran towards the spiraling staircase to return to his office, the glee of his brilliant plan almost causing him to float on air. It was all so simple. He could not have power over Charlie, so he would no longer be Charlie’s mentor or employer or provider or *anything* of the like. On Charlie’s sixteenth birthday, Willy Wonka would make Charlie Bucket his *partner* in business and replace his own name with Charlie’s as the official owner of the factory. Willy wasn’t worried about Charlie’s capability at all as the boy had proven himself to be entirely capable of handling the factory without Willy Wonka looking over his shoulder, and by promoting Charlie on his birthday, no one would think anything more of it.
Yes, all in all, Willy was quite proud of himself. He still wasn’t sure if he would be able to approach Charlie, even after making him his partner, but given the teen’s actions the night before, maybe he wouldn’t have to. He would set the stage, and leave it to Charlie to take the spotlight. . .
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I deliberately left out the country. Everyone seems to have their own opinion of where Willy Wonka’s factory resides (or should reside), I’ll just keep my own humble opinion to myself.
This is a summery of the age of consent in accordance with the country I imagine the factory to be in.
Title: "Change," Chapter 5, "A Decisive Decision"
By: SKC
Rating: M
Disclamier: These wonderful characters did not spring forth from the depths of my mind, but Roald Dahls.
Warning: I don't think MM counts as a warning in a place that exsists for the promotion of a MM couple, but there are dealings with a minor.
Story Summery: Willy Wonka struggles with the fact that he may just be in love with his dear protege, Charlie . . .
Chapter Summery: Willy Wonka makes a decision and formulates a plan . . .
“Change”
Chapter 5
“A Decisive Decision”
Willy Wonka carefully closed the cover of the now throughly read and memorized report on the mishap in the Chocolate Room, a frown creasing his delicate features as he stared pass the now closed cover. With a sigh, he wheeled himself back from his polished cheery desk to steeple his gloved hands together in thought. It was only now, after hearing all accounts of what had happened from the Oompa Loompas, and reading through the completed report of the accident, that he realized how serious it had been; what with the threat of contamination to his entire source of chocolate, unknown delays in inspection, clean up, rebuilding and production, not to mention the fact that all but one of his seams would have been ripped clear of his pocket with the expense.
*Would have been.* Three very important words as they were the only place where the threats existed for they had never come to pass, at least not in any desperate sense. Why not? Willy knew exactly why not, and it was on this salvation that he was now so deeply entrenched in thought.
“Charlie . . .” The boy was amazing. This fact, of course, was not something that had been lost on Wonka but he was astounded that he had never realized just how *capable* the boy had become. Simply put, Charlie had done an amazing job; as well, or dare he say it, even *better* than he, the great Willy Wonka would have done. Charlie had somehow managed to avoid the looming delays and ridiculous expenses, completing both clean up and repairs in record time and *still* had the time to check up on his ailing mentor at the end of the day.
A surge of shame coursed through the candy maker. He had been completely useless during the whole affair, and the reason for his absence had been anything but honourable. Mrs. Bucket was right, Charlie really *did* work very hard, and Willy was doing anything but making the workload any easier.
Sighing deeply, Willy pulled himself from the comfort of his plush office chair and retrieving his cane from its place against his desk, he began pacing the length of his emerald floor rug. The thought of him being a hindrance to Charlie was now, of *course*, bringing the memory of occupying Charlie’s bed to mind, not to mention all of the events that were tied to it; the feel of the boy against his hip, the brush of his fingers through his hair, against his face, his lips, and the intoxicating scent of Charlie himself all leading to a climax of an *incredible* dream that Willy was having great difficulty in banishing from his mind.
Wonka halted in mid step. This simply could *not* continue. He *had* to find a solution to this “problem,” and the first thing he had to do was answer one question: Did he want to pursue a relationship with Charlie or not? He already knew that he wanted the boy and now he was sure that he was in love with him, but could he actually find the courage to *initiate* anything? Charlie’s behaviour the previous night was certainly encouraging and try as he might Willy couldn’t find a better reason for Charlie’s actions other than, at the very least, a partial return of similar feelings. But what of the whole “age” dilemma? Just where exactly *did* that situation stand? In truth, Willy had never felt the need to “delve deeply” into any information relating to “romantic” relationships, for he had never experienced one. He was not, however, completely in the dark on such matters, he knew what a pedophile was, and for a while, he had been terrified that he was such a thing himself. Did the term apply to him? He was beginning to think that maybe, it did not. A “pedophile,” as far as Willy knew, was someone who acted on “lust,” who craved the exploitation of the innocence that only a child could possess. Willy didn’t want to hurt Charlie, and most certainly didn’t want to exploit him. He wanted Charlie to know *exactly* what was happening, to recognize Willy’s feelings for what they were, and genuinely experience them in return. Would Charlie know what was happening? Willy was positive that he would, the boy had more maturity than he himself would ever have, Charlie’s handling of the Chocolate Room fiasco was proof enough of that. But exactly how young, was too young? Although the idea of judging a child’s maturity by a number seemed quite crude to Willy, surely the law of land had settled on something it deemed “appropriate?”
And then a thought occurred to him. How *old* was Charlie anyway? Age had never been that important to Willy before and he had hardly paid any attention to the number of candles on the boy’s birthday cakes, except perhaps to wait in eager anticipation for Charlie’s reaction for when the candles would run away from the lighted match, screaming bloody murder all over the icing. And speaking of birthdays . . . hadn’t Mr. Bucket mentioned something about getting Charlie a birthday present that morning? And hadn’t he, Willy Wonka, dreamt about it that very morning? Indeed he had. In the mists of his mental agonizing over Charlie, Willy Wonka had somehow managed to completely ignore the fact that Charlie’s birthday was an up and coming event.((*Brilliant* Willy. You’ve somehow managed to forget everything important about the boy by thinking about him.)) But, how old *was* Charlie going to be? He finally forced himself to think back . . . Sixteen. Yes, it that must have been right. Charlie was going to be sixteen. Surely that was old enough for Charlie to have any kind of relationship he wanted?
Wonka let out a huff. After leaving the Bucket home that morning, (whereupon opening the door he had been greeted by the entire Oompa Loompa population with their Broadway rendition of (to his horror) his little episode with the bush) he had promised to meet up with Charlie later that day in the inventing room after he had seen to the Chocolate River reports, and now here he was wasting time asking questions and receiving no answers. Well it was time to put a stop that right now.
Willy glanced towards the large maple doors of his private library and with a quick breath he made a final decision. He strode towards the doors of the library and pulled them open; it was time to get some answers. . .
~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W~W
The personal library of Willy Wonka was one of the most (if not *the* most) comprehensive in the entire world, and the amazing sight of rows upon rows of books of all shapes and sizes, and of all possible subjects that stretched as far as the eye could see certainly boasted to that fact. A scholar’s dream and seeker’s nightmare as this incredible display of literature was rather intimidating when faced with the task of finding one particular book, especially when Wonka’s methods of organization was not in any kind of order that most would consider to be reasonable. But the library was, of course, intended for Willy Wonka, not other people, so this fact was irrelevant.
Willy knew what book he was looking for and although it was one of his least favourite, he had a pretty good idea of where to find it.
“Let’s see . . . ‘Law’ . . . is it with the ‘awe’ inspiring books or the ‘awful’ books? . . . Well there’s certainly nothing ‘inspiring’ about it, so it must be with latter.”
Luckily, the “Awful” group of books was only one floor up from the entrance, and one trip up a spiraling and swirling staircase later, Willy was reaching for the large, stern looking book called, “Law of the Land.”
Wonka lugged the heavy book to a nearby reading table, and flopped down with a sigh into one of the comfy armchairs that surrounded the highly polished table, his cane across his lap.
He sat back in the chair, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the vaulted ceiling, he took a deep breath. Did he really even *want* to know this? Right now, he was fancying the idea that maybe being in love with fifteen-year-old-soon-to-be-sixteen-year-old was really not that bad, what if this book said otherwise? What if it didn’t? No, . . . he had to know. It was somewhere to start at least, whether he tried to pursue something with Charlie or not.
He steeled his resolve, sitting up straight, and after leaning his cane against his chair, he pulled the book towards him. He flipped open the book to it’s table of contents, searching through an unbelievable listing of laws until he found what he was looking for and flipped to the appropriate page and began to read:
“AGE OF CONSENT”
“A person is considered to be of the age of consent at 16 yrs (heterosexual or homosexual) with the exception of an older partner (more than 2 yrs senior) being in a position of power or influence over the younger, in which case the age of consent must be 18yrs.”
Willy slowly closed the book, not sure if he should feel some sort of relief or not. Charlie would be sixteen years old, and according to this, Charlie would legally be able to speak for himself. This fact did help with the guilt factor somewhat, but not completely, for there was still one pesky little problem; Willy Wonka was most definitely in a position of power over Charlie Bucket. The boy was his protégé, he was Charlie’s mentor, employer and partial provider, and there was no way that he could deny any of that.
Wonka deflated, feeling utterly defeated. He had felt an unreal surge of hope when he had first read the beginning of the law that had said the age of consent was sixteen years, but now . . . Could he really survive the torture of a two year wait? The thought was not a pleasant one to say the least. Then again . . . there was always the option of defying the law. But Willy squashed that idea as soon as it was formed, it was too selfish of an option. What if he were prosecuted? His reputation, along with his company would be ruined, leaving Charlie with nothing but shame and humiliation.
Willy glared at the book, frustration beginning to get the better of him. It made no sense, did these people honestly think that someone had some sort of revelation about the meaning sex at a certain age? The fact was that everyone matured at different times in their lives, why just look at Charlie! How could anyone imply that he was anything but capable of making his own decisions about *anything* when he had handled a situation such as yesterday’s catastrophe with as much skill and maturity as any grown man would have done. Charlie was one of the most selfless and dedicated workers that Willy had ever known. Why, it wouldn’t even surprise him if Charlie would want to keep working on his birthday . . .
It was then that it all came together and Willy couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen the solution before. He jumped out of his chair and grabbing his cane once again, ran towards the spiraling staircase to return to his office, the glee of his brilliant plan almost causing him to float on air. It was all so simple. He could not have power over Charlie, so he would no longer be Charlie’s mentor or employer or provider or *anything* of the like. On Charlie’s sixteenth birthday, Willy Wonka would make Charlie Bucket his *partner* in business and replace his own name with Charlie’s as the official owner of the factory. Willy wasn’t worried about Charlie’s capability at all as the boy had proven himself to be entirely capable of handling the factory without Willy Wonka looking over his shoulder, and by promoting Charlie on his birthday, no one would think anything more of it.
Yes, all in all, Willy was quite proud of himself. He still wasn’t sure if he would be able to approach Charlie, even after making him his partner, but given the teen’s actions the night before, maybe he wouldn’t have to. He would set the stage, and leave it to Charlie to take the spotlight. . .
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I deliberately left out the country. Everyone seems to have their own opinion of where Willy Wonka’s factory resides (or should reside), I’ll just keep my own humble opinion to myself.
This is a summery of the age of consent in accordance with the country I imagine the factory to be in.