Old habits die hard, and so without really thinking about it, Charlie waits until the door is closed and they're out of sight to get up on tiptoe, urge John's chin down with one hand, and kiss him.
...With his other hand, he steals the wrapped sandwich, and smirks as he steps away to unwrap it.
"This smells amazin'."
He doesn't want to talk about being moved around or messed with or what may or may not have been done in his cabin. He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want the idea in his head.
John's chin requires very little urging, and the kiss in return is a happy, playful little thing, joyous that Charlie wants to continue in that vein instead of freaking out about it, pretending it never happened, and no longer pursuing that line of relationship.
The sandwich theft gets a smile from him.
"Alan taught me how to make it. Well, he told me what it ought to taste like and I tried to duplicate it for him. I've tried it myself. It's... very satisfying."
Charlie bites into the sandwich with closed eyes and a sound not unlike that of sexual satisfaction. Not only is it John's good fucking cooking, not only were his duping skills and Alan's tasting notes on point, but on top of all that, Charlie didn't realise until this exact second how much he'd miss a good fucking breakfast sandwich.
Anyway, he figures John'll get a kick out of that restaurant review.
"Gonna give him a bell after this," he says, with his mouth full. "Been starting to catch up on what I missed on the party line." Which he brings up because there's... specific things he wants to ask John about, from that.
The first part gets just a tiny bit of a grumpy face, because he knows he's bad at lying, thanks, but hopefully you enjoyed learning that too. Then the second part has him wincing prematurely.
"...please tell me he didn't message you about any of it."
"Only this," he says, carefully neutral. He passes John his communicator, open to a message. It's short enough that a second message and maybe the tail end of a third are also visible further up the thread.
He doesn't say more, because he wants to see what John says rather than pre-empting it.
And there is a deep breath out as he scrubs his face and looks at the messages, checks the dates and times and sighs again.
A thought he does not send out but certainly keeps inside his head: Little brother, why do you have absolutely no impulse control?
He breathes out. And then Charlie is getting a rundown.
"He found you in the coma, drew on you because he's still upset about when you came at him when he was with Faroe, picked up that we, uh.." cough "made a bunch of stupid assumptions, got upset at me, I got upset at him, Arthur went to find out what happened because I was asleep, fucked up with Edwin because Edwin still thought a bunch of stupid shit and you know how Arthur can get when he wants to find something out, I talked to Jedao, Jedao told me some of the stupid shit, I talked to Edwin, Edwin is now aware it was stupid and that he kind of acted like an asshole, and now I'm going to guess Edwin's going to be cranky because I made it clear that you're important to me and that isn't changing."
He points to the first message.
"He thought we thought he'd turn into the King. It looks like that was just after talking to Arthur but before talking to me."
Points to the other two.
"And there he's just being a pissy bitch about the encounter with Faroe, I think."
It's both vindicating to hear John annoyed at Edwin, and uncomfortable to hear him annoyed as one would be with a normal person who did something dumb, and equally uncomfortable that 'normal person who did something dumb' is exactly the role he plays in the story. And then there's a sort of blunt-flat-bad over all three of them, because Charlie isn't confident in how he even thinks about Edwin just now.
There's already plenty to hate about this without that angle, honestly. John was upset, Arthur was probably upset about John being upset, their business was aired all fucking over.
"Huh."
He takes another bite of sandwich and rolls that over in his head, and then, with concern, notes something.
That is... not the worst thing for Charlie to hang on. John winces about it all the same. He nods, a little slower.
"I wasn't-" he pauses, tries to figure out how he can worry Charlie the least. "I didn't want to... exist for a while." Rolled a 1. "B-be conscious. For me, they're the same thing."
A sigh.
"I know, theoretically, it should be fine. But I... don't."
There's the cold, rolling sort of feeling that happens when you hear something like that, no matter how carefully couched. Muted shock crosses Charlie's eyes for a moment.
There's a hot second where he's genuinely at a loss for words, because despite all the great conversations people keep forcing him into he is not good at talking about feelings, and there is nothing in the 1930s Guy Core Rulebook that offers guidance on What To Do When Your Fella Expresses Suicidal Thoughts. Wanting to say the exact secret thing that'll make everything better is nice and all but it isn't an actionable strategy.
No, neither is wanting to punch Edwin in his curated fucking face for making John feel that way. No, neither is feeling like an asshole for not thinking harder about the possible fallout of them sleeping together. He is, he observes, scared, though he keeps it hidden since it's not John's problem.
He puts a hand on John's arm: an offer to be steadying. Gives him a smile to offer reassurance.
John is not, however, stupid, despite occasionally rolling a 1 on his Persuasion check. And he's seen Arthur, easy-to-read Arthur, be shaken by this, so if Charlie thinks he isn't going to even consider that Charlie might not be okay with the fact that John was asleep, with all the details, he's got another thing coming.
He'll step in closer, make sure he has Charlie's eyes (though he's careful not to focus too hard there).
"I'm all right now. We cleared things up. And I don't regret anything I said. Or did." He considers something else, but decides no. No, being up front is how he's gone so far, he'll continue that way. "Even though I didn't like that you were in a coma, I was glad that you didn't have to deal with all that. But I wasn't going to lie to you about it either. My life is better with you in it. That's how I feel."
You know, John has phenomenal cosmic powers of devastation and all, but his ability to be unashamedly open and honest is maybe the scariest one of all. There are moments when it can hit like a train.
"Careful, kid, you're about to make me emotional," says Charlie, though his hand tightens on John's arm.
My life is better with you in it. Jesus. He wants to echo the words back. He feels like they're stamping mud into the carpet of a room long closed-up. He'd have to start rearranging the furniture in there to use it again, and it's been kept the way it was left for a very long time. He has both soaring and awful feelings watching the dust be disturbed.
Fuck.
"Listen, I wouldn't change a single goddamn thing we did." Well, maybe the crying, but he's going for something here. "But, shit, I wish I'd been there to... I, I dunno. Be around. Kinda let you down."
John's eyes flicker to his arm and Charlie's hand, and he watches his expression carefully, to make sure that he didn't push too hard. But the reassurance lands, a smile curling on his lips almost immediately because yeah, he got what you were saying, they can both just nod and step past the crying, it happened, but-
John shakes his head.
"You didn't let me down. At all. It's something that happens here, and it's no one's fault. You shouldn't feel bad about it."
His lips tighten for a split second, but he says: "All right," like he completely agrees. John was so upset that he did something which, to him, is akin to dying. Charlie still feels like there's some unknown thing he could've done different so that he wouldn't just be fucking absent in the critical moment--
But, again, that's not John's problem.
He moves so that they're closer and side-by-side, his arm on John's back, fingers maybe tangling in the fabric of his suit jacket, though he resists anything so obvious as white-knuckled holding on to it.
"I'm real glad you woke up. Guess the sex was good enough to come back for, huh?"
Could've left it at the first sentence, but, ha ha! Death and loss and perceiving or having others perceive his emotions about them!
John watches Charlie and he's so close, close enough that words feel harder to find. Charlie says that and it's a joke. It's the kind of thing you say to try and handle a shitty and horrifying situation to get you through to the next second, but John doesn't like how it makes what they did a joke. It feels special. Being trusted was everything, is everything, especially now.
So instead, he leans over, down, and he's going to kiss Charlie.
It's not just sweet. There's some heat in there, some reminder that that's how he feels about him, that Charlie is a good looking man and everything they did was good, yes, but mostly it's just-
Affection. Comfort. A desire to communicate that Charlie is one of the reasons he woke up, because Charlie is one of the reasons he wants to be conscious. His life is better with him. His life is better with him in it.
Charlie draws in a soft breath when John kisses him, like some kind of goddamn blushing damsel. And he quickly reaches up to cup John's cheek, and opens his mouth, taking charge of the kiss -- not necessarily to push it further, but to be less...
Look, he just got essentially switched off for days on end and he feels very... acted-upon. And John didn't choose what he sounds like or the long shadow behind him but they add to Charlie's... awareness of being acted on, even though the action is good. Acting is fine, though. Acting is more than fine.
Charlie's fingers tangle at the front of John's clothes now, where his shirt buttons across his chest, in about as non-heterosexual a position as one can achieve without actually undoing them.
"Didja bring breakfast for yourself too? I got, uh..." Beat. He's just had a realisation that actually genuinely sucks when you've spent various points of your life at hilarious levels of food insecurity. "Ah shit, never mind, I don't. It woulda gone bad."
Edited (accidentally a word) 2024-07-22 14:15 (UTC)
There's a little moment of... not pause or confusion or shock, but attention to the shift before he lets himself be acted on, lets Charlie take the reigns from him happily enough. He said his piece; let Charlie speak his own, whatever flavor it might come in. He'll listen.
"I didn't, no," he admits with a little smiles, some of the kiss dazed still in his eyes and a deeper red at his lips. "I made one for myself earlier. I'll bring it next time instead."
He'll get to see a little more red at those cheeks from the compliment, but he can brush past it to get to everything else.
"You should eat your breakfast before it gets too cold. But after that, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. And I wanted to be really clear that you're welcome to say 'no' and I won't take it personally."
Charlie takes a large unsexy bite of sandwich, maintaining his romantic proximity for comic effect.
"Let's--" (actually he's moving away a bit now, because it's all fun and games until you actually risk getting egg and bacon on John's nice suit) "--talk and eat. Got time for coffee?"
He'll head to where the mugs are hanging, and give a wave of invitation that encompasses both breakfast bar and couches, whichever John is feeling in his heart today. It's open plan, so neither option will necessitate shouting through walls.
"See, the problem is that I'll want to be honest, but if I say it's one of the best damn sandwiches I've had you'll think I'm blowing smoke."
"No, I won't," he insists as he makes his way over to the breakfast bar and takes a stool. "I know you wouldn't do that. It's why I came to show you the suit in the first place. I like your honest opinion."
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He doesn't lean in or presume. If Charlie wants to touch or show affection, though, John's body language is open and warm.
Especially since he has that attention. And that crooked grin on him.
"I didn't meddle with anything here. I just put you in bed and took off your shoes."
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...With his other hand, he steals the wrapped sandwich, and smirks as he steps away to unwrap it.
"This smells amazin'."
He doesn't want to talk about being moved around or messed with or what may or may not have been done in his cabin. He doesn't want to think about it. He doesn't want the idea in his head.
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The sandwich theft gets a smile from him.
"Alan taught me how to make it. Well, he told me what it ought to taste like and I tried to duplicate it for him. I've tried it myself. It's... very satisfying."
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Anyway, he figures John'll get a kick out of that restaurant review.
"Gonna give him a bell after this," he says, with his mouth full. "Been starting to catch up on what I missed on the party line." Which he brings up because there's... specific things he wants to ask John about, from that.
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"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear from you. You didn't miss... much." Beat. "With Alan, anyway. He's mostly been writing."
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But it's said with a half-smile, and not a Misty half-smile.
...Which then drops to something more neutral, because it largely existed as a half-subconscious measure to make sure his tone was clear for John.
......fuck it, instead of describing the message he'll just show John. He digs out his communicator and starts looking for it one-handed.
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"...please tell me he didn't message you about any of it."
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He doesn't say more, because he wants to see what John says rather than pre-empting it.
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"Goddammit, Edwin."
And there is a deep breath out as he scrubs his face and looks at the messages, checks the dates and times and sighs again.
A thought he does not send out but certainly keeps inside his head: Little brother, why do you have absolutely no impulse control?
He breathes out. And then Charlie is getting a rundown.
"He found you in the coma, drew on you because he's still upset about when you came at him when he was with Faroe, picked up that we, uh.." cough "made a bunch of stupid assumptions, got upset at me, I got upset at him, Arthur went to find out what happened because I was asleep, fucked up with Edwin because Edwin still thought a bunch of stupid shit and you know how Arthur can get when he wants to find something out, I talked to Jedao, Jedao told me some of the stupid shit, I talked to Edwin, Edwin is now aware it was stupid and that he kind of acted like an asshole, and now I'm going to guess Edwin's going to be cranky because I made it clear that you're important to me and that isn't changing."
He points to the first message.
"He thought we thought he'd turn into the King. It looks like that was just after talking to Arthur but before talking to me."
Points to the other two.
"And there he's just being a pissy bitch about the encounter with Faroe, I think."
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There's already plenty to hate about this without that angle, honestly. John was upset, Arthur was probably upset about John being upset, their business was aired all fucking over.
"Huh."
He takes another bite of sandwich and rolls that over in his head, and then, with concern, notes something.
"You were asleep?"
cw suicidal ideation
"I wasn't-" he pauses, tries to figure out how he can worry Charlie the least. "I didn't want to... exist for a while." Rolled a 1. "B-be conscious. For me, they're the same thing."
A sigh.
"I know, theoretically, it should be fine. But I... don't."
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There's a hot second where he's genuinely at a loss for words, because despite all the great conversations people keep forcing him into he is not good at talking about feelings, and there is nothing in the 1930s Guy Core Rulebook that offers guidance on What To Do When Your Fella Expresses Suicidal Thoughts. Wanting to say the exact secret thing that'll make everything better is nice and all but it isn't an actionable strategy.
No, neither is wanting to punch Edwin in his curated fucking face for making John feel that way. No, neither is feeling like an asshole for not thinking harder about the possible fallout of them sleeping together. He is, he observes, scared, though he keeps it hidden since it's not John's problem.
He puts a hand on John's arm: an offer to be steadying. Gives him a smile to offer reassurance.
"Hey, I'm glad you're awake too."
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He'll step in closer, make sure he has Charlie's eyes (though he's careful not to focus too hard there).
"I'm all right now. We cleared things up. And I don't regret anything I said. Or did." He considers something else, but decides no. No, being up front is how he's gone so far, he'll continue that way. "Even though I didn't like that you were in a coma, I was glad that you didn't have to deal with all that. But I wasn't going to lie to you about it either. My life is better with you in it. That's how I feel."
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"Careful, kid, you're about to make me emotional," says Charlie, though his hand tightens on John's arm.
My life is better with you in it. Jesus. He wants to echo the words back. He feels like they're stamping mud into the carpet of a room long closed-up. He'd have to start rearranging the furniture in there to use it again, and it's been kept the way it was left for a very long time. He has both soaring and awful feelings watching the dust be disturbed.
Fuck.
"Listen, I wouldn't change a single goddamn thing we did." Well, maybe the crying, but he's going for something here. "But, shit, I wish I'd been there to... I, I dunno. Be around. Kinda let you down."
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John shakes his head.
"You didn't let me down. At all. It's something that happens here, and it's no one's fault. You shouldn't feel bad about it."
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But, again, that's not John's problem.
He moves so that they're closer and side-by-side, his arm on John's back, fingers maybe tangling in the fabric of his suit jacket, though he resists anything so obvious as white-knuckled holding on to it.
"I'm real glad you woke up. Guess the sex was good enough to come back for, huh?"
Could've left it at the first sentence, but, ha ha! Death and loss and perceiving or having others perceive his emotions about them!
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So instead, he leans over, down, and he's going to kiss Charlie.
It's not just sweet. There's some heat in there, some reminder that that's how he feels about him, that Charlie is a good looking man and everything they did was good, yes, but mostly it's just-
Affection. Comfort. A desire to communicate that Charlie is one of the reasons he woke up, because Charlie is one of the reasons he wants to be conscious. His life is better with him. His life is better with him in it.
"Mmhmm."
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Look, he just got essentially switched off for days on end and he feels very... acted-upon. And John didn't choose what he sounds like or the long shadow behind him but they add to Charlie's... awareness of being acted on, even though the action is good. Acting is fine, though. Acting is more than fine.
Charlie's fingers tangle at the front of John's clothes now, where his shirt buttons across his chest, in about as non-heterosexual a position as one can achieve without actually undoing them.
"Didja bring breakfast for yourself too? I got, uh..." Beat. He's just had a realisation that actually genuinely sucks when you've spent various points of your life at hilarious levels of food insecurity. "Ah shit, never mind, I don't. It woulda gone bad."
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"I didn't, no," he admits with a little smiles, some of the kiss dazed still in his eyes and a deeper red at his lips. "I made one for myself earlier. I'll bring it next time instead."
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"Please do, I'd love to have such a handsome fella for breakfast."
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"You should eat your breakfast before it gets too cold. But after that, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. And I wanted to be really clear that you're welcome to say 'no' and I won't take it personally."
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Charlie takes a large unsexy bite of sandwich, maintaining his romantic proximity for comic effect.
"Let's--" (actually he's moving away a bit now, because it's all fun and games until you actually risk getting egg and bacon on John's nice suit) "--talk and eat. Got time for coffee?"
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"And give me any thoughts on the sandwich. He's from much later than us, after all."
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"See, the problem is that I'll want to be honest, but if I say it's one of the best damn sandwiches I've had you'll think I'm blowing smoke."
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