He's singing to himself as he shrugs out of his coat. He's been at the compound for most of the day, sorting out paperwork in the office. He's not particularly happy with the set-up, clothing or house. It's hard to get comfortable in this many layers of clothes. In the kitchen, he peels out of coat and gloves, loosens his tie and rolls up his ( Read more... )

"It's really not that hard, Ed."

Raising an eyebrow, Charlie plays the scale again. He forces himself to do it slowly. Smoothly. He learned to do this when he was five and he's seen Edmund fight; it's not like he can't pick up difficult things.

"You want to try again?"

"I want to be inside you," he murmured with deliberate slowness, feeling like he had to make every word clear and distinct. They were important words; they had to be understood. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you all over ( Read more... )

It's been a really long time since he woke up alone. He likes it this way; he likes knowing exactly where Edmund is. In his sleep, he rolls closer, drapes his arm across Edmund and draws him in. One hand slips under the hem of Ed's shirt and presses against his belly, fingertips just starting to sneak under the waistband of his shorts. Charlie ( Read more... )

One moment he's walking along, holding Edmund's hand and chattering, justifying his Kyle Reese costume for the eighteenth time that night, and then, all of a sudden, everything changes. It's like they walk into a fog and then the're standing in ( Read more... )

It's extremely uncomfortable. Charlie's more than slightly drunk and it's still uncomfortable. Still, it doesn't stop him pausing on the threshold of the hut that he's long thought of as theirs as dragging Edmund into a slightly sloppy kiss.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asks, grinning.

It's sort of nice spending time with Ed's family; he finds that he doesn't miss his Mom as much when he's around Susan and the kids. Sometime during dinner, he sneaks his hand into Edmund's (even though he doesn't really need to sneak anything) and their fingers are still knotted together by the time they get home. In the doorway of the hut, ( Read more... )

Charlie isn't drunk. Well, he is. Slightly. But not so drunk that he doesn't realise that he's drunk, which is probably a good sign. His fingers are knotted with Edmund's and they've fallen into one of those lapses in conversation which aren't at all uncomfortable, once you know a person well. Charlie sighs contentedly and bumps Ed's shoulder ( Read more... )

It's been a couple of days, a strange fucking couple of days. They've got back to sharing a bed, curled together in the middle of the big mattress, but Charlie's been wearing t-shirts and baggy pants to bed and he's found himself shying away after the briefest of kisses. That strange, tight, nervous feeling in his stomach still hasn't gone. He ( Read more... )

It's not fixed, not quite, but it's better. They've spent most of the day in bed (even Honour deigned to get up on the bed with them) but now it's time to go looking for Luna. Because it's no more her fault than it was Ed's, and he loves her as much as he loves Ed, but in a different way, and that means that he can't let that go on any more ( Read more... )