Work Text:
It was a Sunday evening like many others: Billy’s hat on the hook in the hallway, TV set pulled forward, baseball game on, two six-packs of Rainiers cold in the fridge. A few cans already lay crumpled on the coffee table, on which Charlie rested his crossed legs. Billy was next to him in his wheelchair. Rain beat against the windows, but with the curtains closed and two dim lamps burning in the living room, it was almost cozy inside.
After the third inning of the game, Charlie dug the remote out from between the couch cushions and nudged the volume down, and pulled his feet off the coffee table. “Listen,” Charlie said.
Billy turned towards him, one eyebrow raised.
“My daughter’s coming back to Forks.”
Billy’s face split into a broad smile. “That’s great news. Coming to stay?”
“Mmyeah,” Charlie grunted. “It’ll take some getting used to for her, I imagine. Of course she still has her room and all but...” His gaze lost focus.
Billy’s hand landed on his lower arm and Charlie snapped back to attention. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll be a good dad to her.”
“I don’t know about that,” Charlie muttered. “I haven’t had much of a chance to be her father at all.”
Billy squeezed his arm, and when Charlie looked into his face the warmth and sympathy he saw there was almost too much. He tensed, and was about to move away, when Billy let go of him and said, “you’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Charlie said. “I might be... less available.” He gestured to the TV set – the baseball game was still on, but muted – and between Billy and himself. “Until I figure out what Bella needs. Maybe she just wants to be alone. I don’t know. What are teenagers like these days?”
Billy snorted. “Not so different from when we were young, I think.”
“Stubborn.”
“Reckless.”
“Angry at the world.”
Billy was grinning by now. “That’s about it, I think.”
Charlie half-rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop a half-smile from creeping on his face, too. “Great.”
“The good old days, huh?” Billy’s eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned towards Charlie.
Charlie’s smile grew, but he glanced down and reached for Billy’s hand. “Do you ever think about...”
“Mm?” Billy squeezed his fingers.
He squeezed back, and felt his smile fade. “Never mind.” He thought about it himself plenty. What if Billy and he had continued whatever they had going when they were in their late teens, early twenties? If they hadn’t split up, if Billy hadn’t married Sarah, if he hadn’t married Renée?
Could they have been happy – could they’ve had a life, together? Charlie regularly drives himself mad letting these questions run through his mind, on a slow day when he’s doing desk work, or late nights when he can’t sleep and the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the roof provides the rhythm to his thoughts.
He knew Billy had loved Sarah. Deeply, genuinely. Had loved her in a way Charlie never found himself capable of loving Renée – and not for lack of trying. His guilt about what had transpired between them had kept him in Forks and drove her as far south as possible. The only good thing that had come out of their marriage was Bella.
He pulled his hand out of Billy’s grip. “Listen, when Bells gets here...” He wasn’t sure how to say it. He chewed his lip, and saw Billy take a breath in and out. “I... This has nothing to do with you, but... I was thinking maybe I don’t want to tell her about you and me. Not immediately.”
Billy frowned, but didn’t seem as upset as Charlie’d feared. Charlie averted his gaze, but continued somewhat relieved: “It’s just that her mom just remarried, and I gathered that Bella coming here is partly so Renée and this Phil can spend time together, on the road. I just... I think one parent with a new relationship at a time is hard enough to deal with.”
When he looked at Billy again, Billy smiled, crow’s feet etching deep laugh lines around his eyes. “And here you go worrying about whether you’ll be a good father to her.”
“I don’t know. It does feel like I’d be lying to her. And I don’t like feeling like I have to hide you, this, us,” he added grudgingly.
“Well, it’s not like we’ve been open about it anyway. As far as I know, everything between us has been confined to this room. And your bedroom,” Billy added, deadpan.
Charlie felt his face heating up and knew he was turning red. “Yeah. So put the lid on that kinda talk when my daughter gets here.”
“Yes chief,” Billy mocked.
When Charlie didn’t say anything, Billy raised his eyes heavenwards and put one hand on Charlie’s shoulder, and pulled him forward. His other hand came to rest against Charlie’s jaw, and Billy kissed him. Charlie closed his eyes, kissed him back, and felt himself relax against Billy’s hands.
Charlie kissed the corner of Billy’s mouth, then sat back. He cleared his throat, and reached for his beer, but it was empty. He got up, ran his hands along the seat of his pants, and asked, “another one?”
“You know it.”
When he returned and put two new Rainier cans on the coffee table, Billy gestured towards the TV. “Your boy’s batting. Better turn up that volume.”
Charlie did, then cracked open their beers and handed one of the cold cans to Billy. “Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers,” Billy replied.
Charlie put his feet back onto the coffee table and tried to relax his shoulders into the backrest of the couch. Bella’d arrive next weekend. He’d cleaned her room, cleared out space in the closets and in the bathroom, and bought fresh linen. Her registration at the high school was all taken care of. And he’d have a car for her, thanks to Billy.
He turned his head to look at his friend, and Billy looked at him briefly and took his hand. With a mouthful of good, cold beer, and with their interlaced fingers on the armrest of the couch, he believed everything might just turn out all right.