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Charlotte was, frankly, sick and tired of the most frustrating man she’d ever laid her eyes on. The worst part was, she was even more sick of her inability to confess her undying love to the most frustrating man she’d ever laid her eyes on.
Yami Sukehiro.
There he was, across the office, minding his own business, and somehow that was actively worse than when he was at her desk trying to wind her up, flirt, or even worse, being completely dense about her massive crush on him. Charlotte glares at him, as though if she tries hard enough she will be able to confess telepathically.
Yami glances up at her, clearly sensing her gaze, and raises an eyebrow at her in silent askance. She can only see the top half of his face peeking above the tinselled partition, all dark messy hair and ruggedly handsome face. It’s enough to send her pulse racing as fast as a hummingbird's wing but she tries to hold firm and raises one solitary eyebrow back, engaging in a silent stare off.
Yami chuckles, eyes crinkling in amusement, and goes back to looking at his computer screen. Charlotte considers this a small victory against the part of her that wants to positively flee whenever Yami even enters the room and tries to refocus on her work, but the spreadsheets are blurring into an endless spiral of numbers and formulas. It’s useless. One look from Yami and she’s falling all over again, just as she had the first time she ever set eyes on him.
The truth is, Charlotte has not been able to focus all week. The closer the days creep to the Clover Corp. Holiday Party, the less functional she feels. And even worse, she knows she’s being ridiculous, but she can’t help the tiny, tiny seed of hope that is sheltered deep within her that maybe, if Yami finds her at the party and she looks her best and is fun to be around then…
Fuck. She bites her lip. Okay, 5 minutes to compose herself and then she’ll come back to finish this report. Her monthly 1 to 1s with Julius are nerve-wracking enough without having to justify why she’s achieved a solid 0% productivity rate as of late.
Charlotte rises from her swivel chair and heads over to the kitchen, grabbing an aggressively Christmassy Santa shaped mug from the cupboard. It’s almost certainly Dorothy’s. She jabs the buttons on the coffee machine (mocha, with an extra espresso shot) and waits for the mug to fill, enjoying the chocolatey aroma that fills the kitchen.
“Never picked you for a hot chocolate kind of girl.” A rumbling voice comes from the doorway. It’s Yami, of course, leaning against the doorframe as though he owns the place. He’s wearing an awful Christmas jumper emblazoned with “I’m Sexy and I Snow it”, which he fills out very nicely, her traitorous brain doesn’t hesitate to add, and isn’t even wrong. Guh. “Then again, you are so sweet I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”
“Did you follow me out here?” Charlotte is glad that they don’t know each other outside of work because she’s fairly certain the only thing stopping her from being outright rude to him on instinct is the fact that she does actually like her job and does not actually want to be fired. Yami and Julius are old friends after all, and she doesn’t doubt that Yami has a hotline to the top which he could use to remove her from her position if he actually wanted to. Not that he would, it’s just that he theoretically could.
“Jeez, how could I not, when you’re so friendly?” Yami casually pushes off from the door frame and saunters even closer, unbearably confident in his own skin. Charlotte would like to move out of his path but her legs are currently made of jelly. “I just want a coffee, Prickly Queen, I'll be out of your hair soon.” He leans over her shoulder to grab a mug from the cupboard- of course it’s the stupid bikini woman mug with the oversized breasts. He truly is an oaf. She glares at it.
“That’s my least favourite mug.” Charlotte says, apropos of nothing, and then regrets it because he hadn’t actually asked for her opinion on his mug choosing habits.
Yami just grins, cockily. “I know.” He sets the bikini lady down on the counter and Charlotte wordlessly passes him the decaf coffee granules, to which he thanks her. She hopes he doesn't notice that she knows that he only has decaf coffee after 3pm. “Busy today?”
Charlotte grunts in response. How does she possibly explain I’m busy because I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s stopping me from doing my work, without actually saying that.
“Sounds rough. Let me know if you need any help.” Yami says. His eyes are earnest. Charlotte knows he genuinely means it, but can’t help the flare of annoyance that anyone might assume that she can’t do everything herself. She takes a deep breath in and tries to let the feeling go - she’s been trying to take onboard some feedback lately and work on her desperate need to be perfect at everything.
“I will try.” It’s all she can promise right now. It seems enough for Yami though, who is currently nodding his approval. It sends a tendril of frisson up her spine. Pathetic.
“'Atta girl.” Ignorant to her self deprecating thoughts, Yami ploughs on, stirring the granules round in the bikini mug, the spoon clinking rhythmically. “So, are you going to the Christmas party, Prickles?”
How did this stupid man always know how to press her buttons just so?
“I am.” Charlotte found herself saying- there was no point in lying after all. “And I suppose you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to get drunk?”
“‘Course,” Yami grins. “It’s Christmas, after all.”
“It is Christmas, yes.” Charlotte rolls her eyes. “The most wonderful time of the year.”
“Cheers to that, Scrooge.” Yami raises the garish bikini mug in mock salute as he backs out of the kitchen, still facing her direction. “I look forward to seeing you there.”
Charlotte stared at the spot where Yami just was, aghast. She was utterly, utterly doomed.
*
Charlotte stares at herself in her bedroom mirror. Staring back at her is a fancier version of herself in a sparkly, party-ready dress that she knows will be the envy of all the girls on her team. She has applied her make-up exactly as the Youtube tutorial said, and even curled her hair despite it’s best attempts to refuse to take any shape other than ramrod straight.
Should she… change? No. She looks nice. Right? Right…? Ugh. As if it even matters. Yami probably won’t even notice her tonight, let alone be assessing whether she should have gone with the red lipstick over the pink. He has never found it hard to pick up a gaggle of women ready to hang off his frankly ridiculous biceps (Charlotte doesn’t judge this as she herself is one of them), so Charlotte expects to fade into the background.
After plaiting her fringe, just to ensure she still feels like herself, Charlotte calls for an Uber and waits sullenly outside of her townhouse in the chilled evening air. Charlotte knows she is being dramatic, but it feels like every step is bringing her closer to the inevitable disappointment of failing to do anything about her crush on Yami once again.
She hates that she still holds a candle for Yami after all these years- if anything, time has not healed the wound and in fact, made things even worse. The more they had fallen into a familiar, teasing push and pull, the more her feelings had wedged firmly in her chest, a splinter that she could no longer pull out.
When the cab arrives, Charlotte hops inside and attempts a pep talk with herself in the rear view mirror. She’s actually quite successful and by the time she arrives at the venue she’s convinced herself she can still have fun tonight, she looks great, and if Yami Sukehiro doesn’t look her way- well, that is certainly not unexpected and totally his loss.
On arrival, she’s greeted to enthusiastic encouragement from Sol and Puli, her personal cheer squad. Charlotte really and truly adores these girls- they’ve never made her feel like anything other than perfectly enough, despite her idiosyncrasies and unhealthy obsession with he who must not be named until tomorrow. They even encourage her to do a little twirl to show off the way the sparkle of her dress catches the light and sends little flecks of light sparkling as bright as the disco ball overhead.
Before she knows it, Charlotte is actually quite enjoying herself. The evening slips by, hastened by the whirlwind of socialising happening around her and the various drinks pressed into her hand. She is buoyed along by their enthusiasm and almost forgets the whole reason she had been dreading turning up tonight. Almost.
Charlotte briefly catches a glimpse of Yami, all suited up, and her mouth dries out slightly when she sees that the top button of his crisp white shirt is undone, barely containing the muscles within. He’s mingling with his team, all notorious troublemakers of course, but they appear to be on their best behaviour this evening. Given the free flowing alcohol she doubts this will be for long- there has never been a Christmas party yet without one of that lot causing a Major Incident, but hey, at least it always made for great office gossip the following day.
Sol bumps her hip to Charlottes, breaking her out of her reverie. “Forget him, Sis. We’re here for you.”
Charlotte musters a small smile. “I’m trying, but it’s hard.” Sol takes her hands and drags her back towards the bar, weaving through the crowd until Yami isn’t visible through a wall of mingling employees.
“You’re too good for a man like that, Sis.”
Charlotte knows that Sol doesn’t know Yami like she does, hasn’t seen the man who makes her a better version of herself every day, only seeing the oaf who sometimes makes a scene in staff meetings. “That may be so, Sol. But don’t call me Sis. It’s Boss, to you.”
Sol simply laughs and presses another drink into her hand.
*
Charlotte is not proud of this fact, but she is sozzled. She decides that it's definitely time to take 5 minutes to herself in the bathroom to catch her breath and regain a little sense, or perhaps fall asleep. Either is fine.
So far, the night has been rather fun. She has danced, she has socialised, and best of all, she hasn't bumped into Yami Sukehiro. Wins all round. Charlotte decides it's past time to find Sol and Puli and let them know she is going to head home, tragically alone as usual, but nonetheless in good spirits.
Charlotte stumbles out of the stall and stares at herself in the mirror, glassy eyed. Damn she looks good tonight. At some stage she’s picked up a tinsel scarf and a Christmas cracker hat, which really is the icing on the cake. Laughing to herself, she washes her hands and stumbles out of the bathroom, only to smack directly into a solid wall of muscle. She stumbles backwards, but is caught by a firm arm that wraps around her lower back.
“Oi, oi, oi. I finally found you.” Charlotte already knows who she is about to see as she would recognise that voice anywhere, but slowly looks up to find Yami's kind face smiling fondly down at her. Thankfully, he looks just as sozzled as she had in the mirror which helps to ease the embarrassment ever so slightly.
“You were looking for me?” Charlotte is grateful that she was already blushing from the alcohol otherwise her face would pretty obviously be aflame right now.
“Of course, Prickly Queen.” Yami seems confused that she would think that he wouldn’t look for her. Help. “To tell you that you look beautiful tonight.” Charlotte waits for the follow up joke at her expense, the outrageous flirting, but none is forthright. In many ways, that makes the teasing worse.
“Oh. Well, you haven’t cleaned up too bad yourself. For a brute.” She pats him on the chest (which is just as solid as it looks, noted), swaying forward slightly as she does so. He smells nice, like smoke and cedarwood. It's comforting, and she wants to lean closer and closer…
Yami is still smiling indulgently at her. “Had a lot to drink, huh?”
Charlotte is too tipsy and tired to deny it. “Mmmm.” She says. Or grunts. Her eyes have closed- it feels easier than having them open. “I’m leaving now.”
Yami laughs. “So soon, Cinderella? I thought you would be a party animal. The uptight ones always are.”
“I can be a party animal.” Charlotte says, indignant. “Look.” She even does a little dance on the spot, just to prove him wrong. Yami is laughing again, eyes crinkling at the corners. It feels good to make him laugh, rather than aiming random jibes his way.
“What did I tell you about pushing yourself too hard?” Yami asks, good naturedly.
“That you like strong women but there’s nothing wrong in relying on others.” Charlotte says. If he’s surprised that she remembers something he said to her 8 years ago practically word for word, he doesn’t show it. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.”
Charlotte unravels the tinsel from her neck and clumsily ties it around Yami’s instead like a sad tinsel tie, which he patiently waits for her to finish before using the hand that's still around her back to guide her gently towards the cloakroom. “Let's get you home safe then, Prickly Queen.”
Charlotte obediently passes him her cloakroom ticket stub and he retrieves her coat, which he then wraps around her shoulders and fastens at the front. He’s being so kind, she thinks, that she must look pretty helpless right now. Perhaps she is. He’s always had that effect on her. “Are you my mother?”
“Right now, yes.” Yami says. Ready to go, Yami walks her gently to the entrance of the party and calls her an Uber. The timer begins to count down the 3 minutes until her night is over and she has to go back to her normal life. “Did you have fun?” he asks.
“I did. I danced a lot.” Charlotte says, nodding. Her head feels so heavy.
“I saw.” Yami says. “You looked like you were having fun with your girls.” At the mention of her friends, Charlotte smiles, and Yami smiles back.
“I wish I spoke to you more, though.” Charlotte bites her lip, already knowing she is going to regret saying that tomorrow, but the words are already out.
“You did? I was under the impression that you don’t really like me much, Princess.” Yami says, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Princess is a new one. She’s heady on it.
“I do.” Charlotte swallows, her heart thumping. She has a head rush from the drink and everything feels like too much. “I do like you, Yami. A lot, actually.” She takes a single step downwards towards the street and turns around to look up at him hazily. Yami looks like she’s poured cold water over him. Oh.
Thankfully, she’s saved from embarrassing herself any further by the taxi pulling up in front of the steps. “My carriage awaits.” She gives Yami a little curtsey and a wave before tottering down the rest of the steps and yanking the taxi door open, tumbling inside.
As the taxi pulls away, she peeks out of the back window. Yami is still standing on the steps staring after her.
*
Charlotte wakes up to her 7:30am alarm and wonders what the hell she was thinking.
Her memory is patchy, but she certainly remembers her borderline confession to Yami. She’s going to have to call in sick as there is no way she is facing the consequences of her actions today. Perhaps, she might even have to hand in her notice as she doesn’t particularly want to face the consequences of her actions ever.
Charlotte crawls out of bed and out of her outfit from last night, which she is still wearing. She does feel a little better after having a shower and getting dressed in proper pyjamas, but no amount of self care can erase the fact that Yami knows about her feelings. She could pretend all she wants that he hadn’t understood, but she can remember his shocked expression, tinsel scarf and all, as clear as day.
After phoning in sick, Charlotte manages to fall back asleep for a few hours and emerges sometime around midday to make some pancakes and a sorely needed coffee. Flicking on the TV to a generic home renovation channel, she checks her phone to find messages from Sol (“Did you leave with Yami??!!?!?!”), Dorothy (“You looked so CUTE last night Charlotte!) and Yami himself (“Hope you got home okay, Prickly Queen”). Well, there goes her last hope that it was all a bad dream. A good dream. No, a good dream with a bad ending.
Sighing, Charlotte is tempted to wallow but in some ways she does feel that a tiny weight has been lifted off her chest. It might not have been the confession she wanted to give, but at least it was finally done, one way or another. She settles into the sofa to have a duvet day, resolving to tackle her life head on tomorrow. Everything else can wait.
After watching multiple cheesy romcoms, around 6pm there’s a knock at the door, firm and insistent. She rises from the sofa slowly and toddles over to open the door, still feeling a little delicate.
Charlotte opens the door to find Yami Sukehiro standing on her doorstep, unannounced, hand still raised to continue pounding on the door. She’s so shocked she simply stares at him, and he stares back at her in turn.
“Hi.” Yami says, gruffly, breaking the awkward silence. "Nice place."
“Yami?” Charlotte is still staring, mouth agape.
“I came to see how you were." Yami ploughs on admirably, despite her stunned response to his impromptu visit. "Not like you to miss work.”
“I’m…hungover,” Charlotte says, sheepish. “Please don’t tell Julius.”
“Promise.” Yami cracks a smile for the first time that evening. “Can I come in?”
Charlotte nods in acknowledgement, thinking of her lounge which currently has a duvet and an open box of chocolates, as well as a cheesy romcom playing. There’s nowhere to hide the person she's been today. As she leads him through to the lounge, she can’t help but ask, “How do you know where I live?”
“I called for your taxi on my phone, remember.” Yami says, turning around to face her.
Charlotte flushes a deep red at the stark reminder of her shamelessness the night before. “Oh. Right. Thanks.”
“You didn’t reply to my text.” Charlotte winces.
“Sorry, Yami. I-I was too embarrassed.” Charlotte confesses, quietly. “I don’t get that drunk often.”
“Hey. Don’t apologise.” Yami rests his hand on her shoulder as they face each other. It’s warm, and her focus is drawn to it acutely. “It’s good to let loose sometimes too.”
She thinks he means it to be comforting but it only succeeds in making her all the more nervous. Staring down at Yami’s feet, Charlotte deadpans, “Because I’m normally uptight, yes I’m aware.” Charlotte is all too aware that plenty of people think she’s boring and stuck up, but she doesn’t particularly want to hear it from Yami.
“I’m just telling you you shouldn't be embarrassed. I don’t want you to ever be embarrassed around me.” Abruptly, Charlotte realises where Yami is going with this. She shouldn’t be surprised really. She has always known that for all his teasing, at his core Yami is a good man- of course he would want to let her down gently.
“We don’t have to talk about this.” Charlotte says, taking a step back, warm hand slipping from her shoulder. “Please. Let’s not, Yami.”
“And if I want to?” Yami steps towards her again, until they are standing face to face.
“What is there to say?” Charlotte is frustrated, with herself and with Yami. For saying things she shouldn’t have said. For getting so drunk. Hell, for going to the party at all. Yami is quiet, but he sits down on the edge of her couch and pats the spot next to him, a silent question.
“I have something to say.” It is a small mercy that he looks as uncomfortable as she feels. Reluctantly, she perches next to him. Best get this over and done with, she supposes. Her heart is pounding so fast she feels physically ill.
“Last night, you surprised me, Charlotte.” Yami begins. He never calls her by her name. “Hell, I didn’t really think you could stand me.”
Charlotte feels immediately terrible that she’s been so harsh on him and he had looked after her without question anyway. What a kind, reliable man that he is. She can feel her eyes beginning to water and tries to blink it away, digging her nails into the palm of her hand.
“Jeez! Don’t get upset, Prickly Queen.” Yami reaches out and tucks her plait behind her ear, unbearably gentle. “Well, what I’m trying to say is…Fuck.” He attempts a weak chuckle but Charlotte is frozen in place, a rabbit in the headlights of Yami’s gaze.
“You don’t have to say it. It's okay.” She wants to flee, to run out into the street and hide from this conversation forever, but Yami’s calloused hand in her hair keeps her anchored.
“I think I do.” Yami sounds frustrated. Charlotte reaches up to pat his hand gently, aiming to be comforting. Should she be comforting the guy who is currently trying to let her down gently? She really is a masochist.
“I get it, Yami. I’m sorry for what I said." Charlotte attempts a weak smile, but knows it's a poor effort. "We can just carry on like before”
“You know, I always tell people to surpass their limits. So I’m going to surpass mine, right here, right now." Yami inhales deeply. "Let me know if I’m reading this wrong, okay?” Yami’s hand moves from Charlotte’s hair to softly cup her cheek. He’s so very close that she can see that his pupils are blown wide, dark eyes even darker than usual. “Okay so far?”
Charlotte is afraid that her voice will fail her, so she manages the hint of a nod instead. She’s afraid that if she speaks it will snap them both out of this madness. She doesn't want it to stop. Yami is leaning in slowly, closer and closer until their lips are nearly touching. His eyes flicker to her lips for the briefest second, then back to meet her gaze.
“Still okay?” Yami whispers. Charlotte can feel the warm puff of his breath on her lips, a mere inch away, if that.
“Yes,” She whispers back. It's all the permission he needs before he’s surging forward to crash their lips together, urgently as though he’s afraid she’ll run away. Charlotte feels desperate, her hands coming up to clutch each side of his face and pull him as close as she possibly can, fingers slipping into his coarse dark hair as they kiss, again and again and again.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. She thinks he might be smiling and she thinks she might be crying. Yami has the same idea as her at once, hoisting her up onto his lap as though she weighs nothing, her knees coming to rest on either side of his thighs. They pause to catch their breath, forehead to forehead, panting. They're both laughing now, bubbling up like a spring.
“You… You… You?” Charlotte can’t find her train of thought, but Yami is laughing, and she finds herself laughing too, whatever she intended to say forgotten.
“Me.” Yami says, and rubs the tip of his nose against hers. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
"You... didn't come here to let me down gently?" Charlotte needs to know.
"God no." Yami says. "What kind of man would be crazy enough to do that?"
Charlotte shrugs. "I don't always make the best impression."
“Prickly Queen. I never thought I’d get to do that. But I'm not going to stop now that I can.”
Charlotte was going to surpass her limits, right here, right now. That was Yami's effect on people. “I’ve always wanted you to.” She buries her face in his solid shoulder, inhaling the smokey scent she’d picked up on last night. It’s easier to speak without looking at him. “But I thought I couldn’t have what I wanted.”
“You hid it well, Princess.” Charlotte flushes at the nickname. It might be her new favourite.
“I’m sorry.” She says, simply. It doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Don’t apologise. I was hiding how I felt too, huh.” Yami says, casually. Her breath catches in her throat. “Not very brave of me, I know.”
“Well,” Charlotte summons her most snootiest, imperious voice, “I think I can forgive you.” Yami just chuckles at her. She loves making him laugh.
“Jeez, we could have been doing this years ago, Prickly Queen.” Yami sighs, tightening his arms around her back, pressing her even closer. "Mine."
“Years?” Charlotte asks. Years?!
Yami just hums his agreement, but doesn’t comment. She can feel him smirking into her neck at successfully getting her to bite on that tidbit. Charlotte laughs, giddy with excitement. She’s so excited to find out what comes next.
“Would you like to stay tonight?” Charlotte asks, suddenly nervous again.
“I don’t think I’ll be leaving anytime soon, Scrooge. Someone has to show you how to enjoy Christmas properly.”
END.