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The morning sunlight was bright against Guile’s eyelids, beckoning him to awaken and rise from the bed.
It was a good argument, but, counterpoint: the blankets were so warm and comfortable tucked around his nude body.
With a grunt, he rolled to turn away from the pestering light, and buried his face deeper into the soft, cool pillow. Maybe he dozed off for a moment, for the next thing he knew, his cheek was being badgered by many soft kisses.
“William...”
“Mm?”
“Babe, come on, get up already,” Charlie’s voice gently urged.
Guile’s sleepiness accented his replies with a drunkard-like slur. “Is my day off...”
“That’s no excuse to be lazy!”
“Mmm... jus’ a few more minutes... Was having the most wonderful dream... Bison was dead, and you weren’t.”
Guile finally opened his eyes then, observing how beautiful Charlie looked leaning over him, backlit by the golden sunlight. The blond hair that hung over his face caught the sun in a way that made it appear to glow, and his skin—the parts that were still peachy beige, at least—had a sort of ethereal, glossy sheen. Angelic.
“Well, I’ve got good news for you,” Charlie chuckled, “Bison IS dead, and I AM alive, so you don’t have to stay in bed to keep ‘living the dream.’”
Guile yawned wide and rubbed his dry eyes. “Alright, alright, I’ll get up...” he spoke through the yawn. He realized then that his own hair was a thoroughly disheveled mess that fell over his face and shoulders. In this state of disrepair, it would take him a good few minutes to fix it into his iconic upright hairstyle. Charlie, likely aware of this fact, was already getting up and making his way for the bedroom door.
“I’ll get us some coffee going,” he said, “better hurry before I drink it all myself!”
-
When Guile finally emerged, he was dressed in soft sweatpants and an old, loose-fitting t-shirt with a faded USAF insignia printed across the chest. His hair was at last set in its familiar shape, though he was still in the process of smoothing it as he stepped into the kitchen.
The smell of coffee was delightfully strong. He felt more awake just breathing in the scent. If asked, he’d admit that the drink smells better than it tastes, but he nonetheless preferred it black over tainting it with sugar or cream or anything else. Ken always accused him of being boring for this reason, but he wasn’t there at the moment to insult his taste.
Indeed: today, it was just Guile and Charlie, finally having a whole day at home to themselves. No work. No drama. No street fights.
The freshly-brewed cup of coffee sat on the countertop beside the toaster, little wisps of steam swirling playfully from the liquid’s surface. Guile retrieved the mug after loading a pair of bread slices into the toaster, watching as the slots slowly lit to a vibrant orange glow.
Behind him, a pan on the stovetop hissed as Charlie set the first few strips of raw bacon onto its hot surface. Grease popped and sizzled as the meat cooked toward an appetizing reddish-brown. Over the sound of the frying, Guile could almost make out the noise from the television in the next room. Some sort of morning news broadcast and weather report. Even without hearing the whole thing, he could get a pretty good idea of how the weather would be just by looking out the window. At a glance, snow still lay several inches deep across the yard, glittering in the morning sun. In the distance, blue-gray clouds suggested that there was still more winter weather to come.
Cold.
All the more reason to spend his day off in the warmth of his home. And in the warmth of Charlie’s arms, he mentally added at the feeling of the man’s firm embrace from behind.
“Morning, handsome,” Charlie greeted with a nuzzle into Guile’s cheek. The raised scar and metallic staples that stitched across his face rubbed lightly over Guile’s skin. In the months since Charlie’s return following the defeat of Shadaloo, the color had been gradually returning to the sections of his reconstructed flesh—more sandy gray than green, for now—but it was unlikely that the haphazard stitches and scars would fully heal to anything resembling “normal.” Charlie didn’t mind it, though. At this point, the scars reminded him of his survival and second chances more than his suffering. And, as far as Guile was concerned, Charlie was gorgeous regardless of his physical features. He could have come back to life looking like Blanka, and Guile would still consider him stunning.
He took a long sip of his coffee, feeling the energizing heat roll down his throat and into his gut, warming him from within while Charlie’s hug warmed him on the outside.
“Morning to you too, gorgeous,” he replied, turning his head a little to kiss him, “Anything going on in the news today?”
“Not much. There was an announcement from that president guy...”
“Like, the President president, or the FooTube one?”
“Yeah, you know, the ‘G’ one. Said he’s looking to meet the world’s best fighters.”
“You know, I still dunno how I feel about that guy...”
Charlie released his hold on Guile so he could more easily remove the bacon from the heat and transfer the now crisp slices to a ceramic plate. “Well, don’t even think about going off to have a fistfight with him! This is your day off, and you said you wanted to spend it together.”
“I mean, we could always go out to fight him together,” Guile jokingly suggested as he spread a thin layer of butter over the freshly-popped toast slices. It melted quickly into the crunchy bread, pooling little rivers of gold into its creases and pores.
“Nope, we’re staying home,” Charlie declared, plucking the slice of toast from Guile’s hand to put a point on the matter.
-
Once their breakfast was prepared, they settled onto the couch to eat while catching the last few segments of morning news. Since the fall of Shadaloo, things had been remarkably peaceful in the world. It was possible that another villainous organization would eventually rise to take its place, they understood, but for now, the “what ifs” of the future were nothing for them to fret about. They’d be ready when the time came, but for now, it was just bacon, toast, coffee, and togetherness.
Guile placed his empty mug on a coaster and cuddled up closer to Charlie, who was absently flipping through the channels with the television remote. He settled at last on a channel featuring some old Saturday-morning cartoons, finding comfort in the nostalgia. Setting the remote down beside the mug, his palm was free to be promptly filled by Guile’s hand.
“Oh, by the way,” Guile brought up between bites of toast, “I got an e-mail the other day from Rashid.”
“Yeah? Haven’t seen that kid since Shadaloo. How’s he doing?”
“Great, sounds like! Has this whole Internet series where he fights people on video. He asked me—“
“Babe, for the last time, we’re not going out to fight today.”
“Take it easy! He had a different question!”
“Okay, what did he ask you?”
Guile lowered his eyes and the tone of his voice, attempting to give off a cool and flirtatious vibe. “He wants to know when the wedding is.”
Charlie blushed deeply, sputtering a little on his bacon.
“I don’t know, Will,” he answered with a broad smirk between gulps of coffee, “when is the wedding?”
“I think we’re missing the real question here,” Guile deflected, himself turning a little pink and beginning to sweat.
“And what’s that?”
“Why does Rashid think we’d invite him?”
They shared a hearty chuckle at that as Charlie went into the kitchen to load their plates into the dishwasher.
“Ah, but he’s a good kid, in all seriousness. Really, though, ‘when’s the wedding?’ Who can even afford engagement rings in this economy?”
He had expected Guile to continue the banter, but he only heard a weak chuckle of “haha, yeah...” in response. Had he said something wrong?
When he walked back into the room, Guile met him at the threshold with a long, tender kiss, rich with the salty-sweet flavors of butter and bacon.
“Hey, Charlie... I have a serious question...” Guile whispered, causing Charlie’s heart to race with a nervous anticipation. What was going on? He wouldn’t take such a serious tone if it weren’t important...
He met Guile’s eyes as he knelt onto the carpet.
“Charlie, will you—“
“Babe, no.”
“N-No?”
“I already told you we’re not going to do any fighting today! I love sparring with you, but can’t we go one day without street fights?”
Guile blinked. “What the hell makes you think I’m about to fight you?”
“Oh, come on! You’re obviously crouching there like you’re getting ready to Flash Kick! You seriously thought I wouldn’t notice? I’m the one who taught you that! Your technique is kinda sloppy, by the way. Your positioning needs to be more—.... Why are you laughing?”
Guile spent the next minute or two in hysterics before finally wiping his eyes and achieving the composure to form words.
“Dammit, Charlie, now you’ve thrown me off my whole... I’m not trying to challenge you to a fight, dummy! I’m trying to pr... to pop th... Ah, forget it. Here’s a ring. You wanna get married or what?”
- - -
Rashid had just finished uploading his latest Let’s Fight video when Guile’s e-mail came in. It was brief and professional, as all his e-mails were, in that sort of “old guy” way that made his writing style stand out among all the casual messages from his other friends:
Rashid,
In regards to your last e-mail (RE: When’s the wedding??? 8-] ), we are considering a date sometime this summer. Thank you again for lending me the money for the ring. Charlie was thrilled by it. Will follow up with photos A.S.A.P.
Best wishes,
W.G.
P. S.
Do not tell anyone about this yet, ESPECIALLY not on your Internet show! Or else you will be uninvited from our wedding and I will personally fly to Dubai to kick your ass. I promised Charlie I wouldn’t fight anyone today, but I assure you, young man, I WILL NOT HESITATE!!!
Also, send Azam my regards.
W.G.