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Charlie pulled his key ring out of his pocket in a nervous fit. He had been working late at the bar because the gang’s escapade for the day involved a lot of damaged merchandise and bloodstains that he had to coax out of the most obscure places. Time slipped away and it wasn’t until he finished what he could that he realized he had completely missed dinner with Dick. He wasn’t sure if he’d be angry, though he told himself what Dick had always reminded him since they started talking again: “Frustration is not anger. And anger is not the end of the world. I will always be open with you and we can work through everything together. You haven’t ever made me angry since I’ve come to properly get to know you. Remember that you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling.” Charlie knows that, realistically, he isn’t in any danger around Dick, but that doesn’t stop him from recalling the way the gang nearly beheaded one another over a simple misunderstanding, nor does it keep the stress sweat from rolling down his back and sides at the thought.
He opens the door and all is calm. The TV is presumably playing some Investigation Discovery show at a low volume and there’s a head of wavy, tousled, brown hair peeking over the arm of the couch with a blanket draped snugly over the body it’s connected to, only just long enough to reach the other end. At the sound of the door shutting, the man starts a little before sitting up and looking over at his boyfriend with a drowsy smile.
“Dinner is in the fridge. I didn’t know how much longer you’d be out. It shouldn’t be too cold, though.” Dick said as he stood up and stretched. “Busy day, I presume?” Charlie slipped into the kitchen to the right of the door and Dick followed in suit.
“I guess, man. A wild one, at least.” Charlie huffed, a bit of a forced laugh, and looked through the leftovers for what he’d feel he could eat with anxiety wrenching at his stomach. He knew Dick would worry if he didn’t eat something, so he grabbed the container of five-cheese lasagna and closed the door. When he turned to pull a fork from the drawer behind him, Dick had beat him to it and was holding it out for him to take. Unfortunately, he wasn’t expecting the gesture, and he flinched so harshly that he fumbled the Tupperware and it fell to the floor with a clattering noise that only made the blood rushing in his ears seem to get louder.
“I’m terribly sorry, Charlie, I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?” Dick’s voice was calm and soothing, but Charlie could tell he had worried him with his reaction. This was only made worse when Dick reached out to pet his cheek, as he usually did to calm him down, and Charlie all but jumped backward to avoid the touch. He seemed to be hurt by this, but Charlie couldn’t stop himself from reacting.
“Sorry… sorry. Like I said. Today was wild...” He looked anywhere other than Dick’s face and shuffled on his feet a little. “Y’know what? It’s stupid,” he scratched at the back of his head, shaking it a little too rapidly to be believable, then deflected with, “let’s just like, watch TV or something. I wasn’t really that hungry anyway and-”
“Charlie, please,” Dick says knowingly before he could even take a step past him. Charlie paused and dared a glance at Dick’s face. He has such sharp features, and yet Charlie doesn’t think he’s ever seen softer or more sincere expressions in his life than the ways Dick looks at him sometimes. He could never quite put how it made him feel into words, but right now it was helping the anxiety subside just the slightest bit.
“What’s… what’s up, doc?” He gives a forced, toothy grin and Dick presses his mouth into that thin, lipless line he does. It’s not necessarily a disappointed or upset look; it’s more along the lines of an ‘Oh, don’t give me that’ look.
“What’s wrong, love? I don’t want to upset you, but I don’t know how to avoid that if you don’t talk to me a little bit.” Charlie can see him fiddle with the hem of his shirt, a sign he recognized as Dick trying not to make any sudden large hand gestures, and realized that he doesn’t know why he isn’t talking about what happened. Charlie’s original thought process was that it might upset him to hear about what happened, but if he was only going to upset him by not talking about it then what was the point? He repeated in his head what Dick had told him. “Remember that you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling.”
He took a deep breath, bent down to grab the toppled Tupperware, and held out his hand for the fork Dick was still holding, lowered, and flipped backward to look less threatening. “Can we talk on the couch while I eat, though?” He offered a small smile and Dick seemed to be pleased with that compromise, holding the fork out slower than before and resting it in Charlie’s hand. Charlie grabbed both the fork and Dick’s hand and he led them both into the adjacent room where the TV was switched to Animal Planet and muted to keep from being too distracting. Dick gathered up the blanket and shuffled it over to Charlie for him to drape over their laps, something Charlie appreciated.
They watched absently, an inch away from being shoulder-to-shoulder, as some people in uniforms rescued gators from various situations and rehabilitated forest friends until Charlie felt calm (and full) enough to start talking about what happened. He set the empty food container and fork on the coffee table in front of them and shifted so that he was facing Dick, one foot pulled up and tucked in on the couch, the other still resting on the floor, and he slung his arm over the back. He was trying his best to appear open like Dick had told him during one of their study sessions that people tend to do when they want to actively listen or be heard, but that one foot resting on the floor, he knew, was his personal little precaution in case he had to stand or take off for whatever reason. He knew it wasn’t necessary, and yet there he was. It got Dick’s attention, anyhow, and he turned to face Charlie in a similar position, only he pulled both his legs up and kept his hands in his lap, folded to remind himself to keep them there.
“So, I guess I should start with the reason I’m all freaked out, huh? Well, I could have died today, I think.” Dick shifted in his spot, trying to keep silent, and Charlie watched him with a hawk-like gaze. He always hated talking about the gang with Dick because he knew the things that happened to them weren’t normal and that he wasn’t fond of Charlie’s friends, but he insisted every time that he wanted to hear whatever it was Charlie had to say. So he continued. “There was this dude. And he came in yelling about something, I think Dennis banged his girlfriend, I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention to it. Anyway, he comes in all mad about it, right? He punches Dennis right in the eye. We’re confused as shit, like ‘What the fuck just happened?’, right? And then Mac goes all crazy! He starts yelling about how he’s gonna kill the guy. Dee was laughing because right before Dennis got hit he was doing his thing with the ‘Golden God’ speech or whatever, at some point Dennis had started crying on the ground for his mom, and Frank was so high off his ass he thought that Dennis’ crying meant his ex-wife was haunting them. He started losing his mind! And then things started getting super violent… At some point, I was nearly stabbed in the neck with something, but I couldn’t see who or what it was because someone blew up the fuse box. Probably Frank, he had a knife the last time I saw him leave our old place. Everyone kind of turned on each other at some point. I had to stay and clean up the mess. I’m kinda shocked I came out of it without getting hurt this time. So that’s basically what happened.” Charlie could see Dick straining to reign in his mortified concern the entire time he spoke, holding steadfast to a neutral expression that betrayed little more than ready curiosity and concentration, but Charlie knew him too well and studied his face too close to miss the way his jaw shifted and tensed, the way his fingers gripped at one another, the way his eyes looked so dark, and the way his face drained with color evermore after each passing minute. He waited a moment to make sure Charlie had finished before speaking.
“Charlie... I’m so sorry, my dear. I’m sure that was very difficult for you to have to experience and I want you to know that you are safe here. I understand now, though I cannot stress enough that I would never harm you, at least never on purpose. If I had it my way, I’d make it so that you were never harmed again, though I know it’s silly to think such things. If you don’t want to be touched at all tonight, or for the foreseeable future, that is entirely alright with me. I can sleep on the pull-out, or you can since that’s familiar to you, if that’s what is necessary for you to feel comfortable and safe.” Dick tilts his head sympathetically and Charlie does the same, mirroring it in both astonishment and adoration. Somehow, Dick is always so understanding, so accommodating, and he always does whatever he can so that Charlie is happy or at least comfortable. He’s never had that before.
“I think I’m okay. I don’t want to be away from you right now, at all, or anything. I just…” He trails off, glancing back to the TV. On it, he sees a woman in a beige uniform crouched down and leaving her hand palm-up out on the ground where a stray dog sits nearby, tucked in on itself and head bowed in fear. Slowly, but surely, the dog approaches her, sniffs at her hand, and then nudges it. She pulls her hand back slowly and holds it up in front of her. The dog skitters back to its corner, but a moment later comes to sniff and nudge against her hand again. Charlie realizes now what it is that he wants to ask. “Can I do the touching tonight? Just me? I start everything?” Dick glances at the TV and then back at Charlie with a smile so tender it makes Charlie’s heart beat faster as if that’s even possible from the events of the day.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Charlie. Whatever you are comfortable with, I am more than happy to do.” Charlie smiles back and reaches over to pick up one of Dick’s hands that had still been diligently placed in his lap. He holds it up to his cheek and rests his face against it as he would have welcomed earlier had he had a better day. Dick’s hand is just cool enough to be comfortable but warmer than their usual icy temperature, and Charlie thinks it’s perfect. He thinks everything about Dick is perfect, in a way. Charlie turns his head and places small kisses on Dick’s palm, a silent ‘Thank you’ for talking with him and being there for him. They look at each other like there was no place they’d rather be until Charlie sees Dick suppress a yawn and realizes how late it is.
“C’mon. I’m tired, too.” Charlie says, standing up and tugging lightly on Dick’s arm to signal for him to stand up, too. When he does, Charlie walks them both into their bedroom and lets Dick lay down under the sheets first. Then, he moves to the opposite side of the bed, tugging off his jacket and kicking his shoes off, not bothering to properly change. He climbs in and presses himself up against Dick’s back, wrapping his arms around him and searching in the dark for his hands. He laces their fingers together, loving the way they fit together so neatly despite the fact that they’re practically physical opposites, and rests his forehead against the back of Dick’s neck. He can feel as he drifts off more and more that his heartbeat, once rapid and pounding, begins to sync with Dick’s comfortable rhythm pressed firmly against his chest, just as he feels both of their hearts jump from the soft kiss he gives Dick’s shoulder and the ‘I love you’ s they exchange before both of them finally fall asleep.