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."
"I've been thinking about that," he admits as he leans on his elbows on the counter. "I-I mean, I want to help Arthur, of course. But I don't know how many detectives he'll need. Maybe selling food a-and looking after Faroe would be more helpful."
He nods, and John will move right along since, as Charlie says, it's all just thinking right now. John doesn't see that time coming any time soon, after all.
"Right. Anyway.
"I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in learning how to use magic," he says plainly.
What has a coffee in each hand and is giving John a very neutral look for a very long moment? This guy!
...Listen, he doesn't know what he expected, but that one surprised him.
"Didn't realise that was somethin' I could learn," he says, which is not a yes but is also not a no, but is thoughtful. He has immediate instinctive misgivings the length of his arm. He also finds that having no magic tricks in a place where a lot of people have a lot of magic tricks kinda sucks sometimes, especially when you're meant to be keeping them in line somewhat.
He slides one of the mugs across the bar to John, and leans on his hands on the other side, an eyebrow raised. "You gonna show me how to turn into a tiger?"
That is going to get a duck of his head, followed by a shake.
"That wasn't me. That's Florian. He makes items that can do magic."
He shakes his head again, this time less about being slightly sheepish about magical things he can do and more in the negative.
"And I'm not sure how much you can do. I know that there's magic in the Barge that can be used with the right spells and gestures and things. Plenty of people do that."
He gestures to Charlie with one hand.
"I thought it might not be a bad thing, for you to get a handle on that kind of thing yourself. Sort of like when I learned about food." Wry. "It started because I hated listening to Arthur's mouth noises while he chewed."
"No," huff huff huff, "it's just a lot easier to deal with if he's telling me about how delicious something I made him is. Or at least telling me what I need to adjust to make it better. Then it's like a game. A skill test."
Beat.
"He was going to talk anyway, after all. His mind's always going."
Ah, John, huffing and puffing is just feeding the trolls! The one troll. The troll in front of you.
"Yeah, faster than I can keep up with." He admits it easily, not self-depreciating but impressed. "Watchin' him wind up and go in New York made me feel like I was in the wrong linea work. If we had a few Arthurs Lester on the force, all the bad guys we were chasing would've either been caught already, or pissed themselves and turned honest to avoid him."
He punctuates that idyllic scene with a chug of coffee.
As the breakfast sandwich is evidence, he might just like feeding that troll. He's good.
"I have no idea how he was in New York. But I agree with the general sentiment."
He'll have some coffee himself, obviously taking a moment to savor it, get a taste of the flavor notes, pick up on whether someone might think it's sweet or tart or sharp or bitter. He enjoys it, as one might do if one's taste was initially treated to a variety of alcohols.
"All I'll say is, the Order of the Fallen Star was behind the best trick doors some rich magical shitheads could come up with, and you two are gonna go through them like they're one plus one."
He watches John contemplate the flavour of the coffee, and part of him wants to ask how he likes it, but they've run a long way from the topic and he's... preoccupied by it. Particularly now that he's remembering the magic those chucklefucks wielded.
"This ain't, uh, any kind of..." He's struggling with how to say it neutrally. And he doesn't think John would suggest this, not to him, but he has to ask anyway for his own peace of mind. "I mean, it'd be all me, right? Not some kinda... contract or channelling or... I-I don't wanna touch that."
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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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La la la coffee-related actions. Charlie works one-handed at first, because he's still licking sandwich off his fingers.
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He shrugs.
"Who knows, of course. But it's a nice thought."
He folds his hands.
"I'm glad it's good, though."
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"Ah, you got plenty of time to think about it," says Charlie lightly, over the chugging of the coffee machine.
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"Right. Anyway.
"I wanted to ask if you'd be interested in learning how to use magic," he says plainly.
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...Listen, he doesn't know what he expected, but that one surprised him.
"Didn't realise that was somethin' I could learn," he says, which is not a yes but is also not a no, but is thoughtful. He has immediate instinctive misgivings the length of his arm. He also finds that having no magic tricks in a place where a lot of people have a lot of magic tricks kinda sucks sometimes, especially when you're meant to be keeping them in line somewhat.
He slides one of the mugs across the bar to John, and leans on his hands on the other side, an eyebrow raised. "You gonna show me how to turn into a tiger?"
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"That wasn't me. That's Florian. He makes items that can do magic."
He shakes his head again, this time less about being slightly sheepish about magical things he can do and more in the negative.
"And I'm not sure how much you can do. I know that there's magic in the Barge that can be used with the right spells and gestures and things. Plenty of people do that."
He gestures to Charlie with one hand.
"I thought it might not be a bad thing, for you to get a handle on that kind of thing yourself. Sort of like when I learned about food." Wry. "It started because I hated listening to Arthur's mouth noises while he chewed."
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"You're kidding?"
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"He talks with his mouth full. And it's so much worse from the inside."
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"And what, you wanted to hear more of it?"
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Beat.
"He was going to talk anyway, after all. His mind's always going."
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"Yeah, faster than I can keep up with." He admits it easily, not self-depreciating but impressed. "Watchin' him wind up and go in New York made me feel like I was in the wrong linea work. If we had a few Arthurs Lester on the force, all the bad guys we were chasing would've either been caught already, or pissed themselves and turned honest to avoid him."
He punctuates that idyllic scene with a chug of coffee.
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"I have no idea how he was in New York. But I agree with the general sentiment."
He'll have some coffee himself, obviously taking a moment to savor it, get a taste of the flavor notes, pick up on whether someone might think it's sweet or tart or sharp or bitter. He enjoys it, as one might do if one's taste was initially treated to a variety of alcohols.
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He watches John contemplate the flavour of the coffee, and part of him wants to ask how he likes it, but they've run a long way from the topic and he's... preoccupied by it. Particularly now that he's remembering the magic those chucklefucks wielded.
"This ain't, uh, any kind of..." He's struggling with how to say it neutrally. And he doesn't think John would suggest this, not to him, but he has to ask anyway for his own peace of mind. "I mean, it'd be all me, right? Not some kinda... contract or channelling or... I-I don't wanna touch that."
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