By the third day, she's starting to feel more like herself. She's getting used to the rhythm of motherhood, trying to sleep when the baby's sleeping, waking up to feed her. She's tired and she's pale, and Paul keeps taking her pulse and frowning. She lost a lot of blood, apparently. She at least persuaded him to let Ianto take her home, so she' ( Read more... )

She's exhausted and she's hurting in ways that she never expected. She's close to tears, through exhaustion or high emotion or both, but her daughter is here, in her arms, safe and whole and perfect. It's something that Charlie never expected to happen, not for her. It feels like she's been waiting for this for a very, very long time ( Read more... )

The heat gets to her way easier than it used to. She used to garden, used to do sculpture out in the Hamlet, but, now, she finds herself feeling faint if she lingers outside for too long. Paul says that she needs to take things easy, much more slowly than she's used to. She tells him that she used to do double shifts at the Burnt Toast Diner ( Read more... )

Charlie's not naturally the tidiest person in the world; she sort of thrives on clutter. She knows that it drives Ianto mad so she's learned to pick up after herself and, today, she's padding around in shorts and one of his t-shirts, gathering up armfuls of art supplies and textbooks, putting them back where they go. It's hot today and she's a ( Read more... )

She's done every damn piece of laundry in the whole house. Hers. Iantos. The pillow that Delilah sleeps on. The blanket that Bill managed to pee all over. Everything. Some days, it feels like one of Ianto's favourite pastimes is bitching at her about dirty panties on the floor, yesterday's night-gown on the floor, so she'd gathered it all up ( Read more... )

Nearly there ( Read more... )

Charlie figured it was time. She'd spent a long time looking at her dress, tears running down her nose (so thank God she wasn't wearing a lot of makeup) and then, to save blushes, she'd slipped out of her robe and into it, only looking towards the open door when it was up and held against her bare chest ( Read more... )

Charlie wasn't in a good mood. She wasn't in a good mood at all. After her own fiance got all mean and wouldn't screw her, she'd poured herself into a really hot dress. She'd even managed to scare up a cigarette. She was sitting on the steps of her house in the Hamlet, smoking and staring at the sky, sighing dramatically from time to time. ( Read more... )

Standing at the foot of the bed, Charlie straightened her suspender and grinned when elastic snaps against tan skin. She'd been up for an hour, curling her hair, strapping herself into her best, fancy panties. Sequins. Feathers. She hoisted her tits a little higher in the push-up bra and gets back onto the bed. There was something so sexy ( Read more... )

It had been such a shame to put sweaty running clothes back on over clean skin, but at least it wasn't a long walk home. The ends of her red hair were still dripping when she walked through the door. Banon came running as Charlie toed out of her shoes. It had been a few days, and she's not even entirely used to being back yet ( Read more... )