Work Text:
I crept up the stairs, hoping not to wake Charlie, and expected to be met with the relaxed face of my dear boy in blissful sleep, unawares of the world around him. Though as I entered our room, I saw a much different sight: He sat upright in bed, propped up by nearly every pillow in our room, thin reading glasses upon his nose and a book in hand. He seemed to be unfazed by my presence, so much so that I could place a gentle kiss on his fluffy, freshly washed curls before he realised I was there.
He jumped a bit, closing the book on his thumb to keep his place, “You startled me!”
“Meant to.” I sat on the edge of the bed, Charlie’s legs sliding to press against my back as my weight made the mattress dip. “What on earth could you be reading, dear boy? You seem absolutely enthralled by it.”
I set to untying my shoes as an arm wrapped around my shoulders, his chest against my back, and his unoccupied arm holding the book just in my periphery. He cleared his throat, mimicking my accent with a flourish, “Mr Jackpot turned his huge eyes on me in a kind of mute enquiry -” Hang on a bloody second! “A moment later he put his hand on my thigh.” How did he manage to get his paws on that! “Well, what was I to do? For the well-bred gentleman there was only one rec-”
Before he could utter the next few words, I grabbed at the volume to no avail. He flopped back onto the mattress, effectively escaping my grasp. Shoes forgotten, I lunged after him. Laughs emitted from our chests as we played ‘hard-to-get’ with the book, his finger keeping the page as he dodged my hands. His reading glasses sat low on his nose, his dimples on full display, as he hooted and giggled at my fruitless attempts to steal my own memoir from his nimble hands. I couldn’t help but chuckle along as I miserably failed at retrieving my book, falling face-first into the bed in defeat. “Charlie- love- have mercy on an old man-”
“No,” he teased before clearing his throat again and repeating his performance only minutes before, “For the well-bred gentleman there was only one recourse. I fucked him-!? Lucifer Box you did not write about us having sex in a book!” He sounded a tad more annoyed than I would have liked, and the fervent flipping of pages after it confirmed my suspicions: he didn’t much appreciate my thorough description of the night of sin we spent at the good ol’ VC.
I finally lifted my face, looking Charlie in the eye, “I’m not done editing it yet-”
“Oh, you won’t be publishing this version, sir.” His voice began to take on the Italian accent I’ve grown to fear over the years of our partnership, “were you going to publish this? The full copy like this?” I braced myself for the onslaught of Italian that was sure to hit me as a wave of fury, ”Lucifer Box devi pensare che io sia un pazzo se hai intenzione di pubblicare questo! Se non togli tutto questo sesso dalla versione finita, non avrò altra scelta che disconoscerti! Questo è solo per i nostri occhi, capito?”
“Capito, amore.” Allow me to translate, dear reader: I would think him a fool if I were to publish my memoir as is, and he would disown me if I allowed an uncensored version of it to be released to the public eye. Though he would let me keep this version for home only. And like the good husband I am; I’m following my angry half-Italian partner’s will, lest I lose my spot in the bed.
I had to admit, the glasses made him look a touch more intimidating than usual. “Molto bene.” Ah, a satisfied husband meant I could stay under the warm duvet tonight. “Though I love how detailed you… are…” he read a page in earnest, a blush appearing high on his cheeks before shutting the book with a sounding clap . “Er- that’s very… very detailed.”
I allowed the fabled ‘smile of Lucifer’ to cross my lips as he placed the book back on the bookshelf (amongst the other rough copies of my tales) “Like what you see?”
“Shut it.”
I ducked to the side as he threw a pillow at my head, capturing his waist and pulling him down to the bed. “I love you Charlie.”
“I love you too amore.”
He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck, bringing me into a soft kiss as his beautiful eyes met my own. I often found myself lost in his eyes, so bright and blue, tonight was no exception as I gazed into the time-softened orbs before me, content.
‘I love you’ doesn’t begin to describe the passion I feel for Charlie, and perhaps one day he’ll read these words:
If I could give you all the stars in the night sky as jewels on a crown, the moon as the most beautiful gem on a ring, the sun as a glittering golden pendant; I still couldn’t repay you for the things you’ve done for me. If I spent the rest of my years with you by my side, I could never thank you enough for saving me. I could say a million more ‘I love yous’ and never say it enough. You’ve done something for me that is more precious than the finest jewel, you’ve given something to me that is unending as the universe, you’ve let me into your life with a fiery passion that I could never match, try as I may.
You chose to run by my side into danger, even after I dented your steeled heart, you chose me after I couldn’t give you forever. You picked me over a billion suitors. You are the reason I am alive, dear boy, and not just because you’ve saved me from god knows how many deathly endeavours, but you have plucked my soul from the depths of isolation. You’ve brought me to the light, into your warm embrace. And I can never thank you enough.
I love you Charlie, may my company serve as a beacon of hope in the darkest of times and our bond be strong as the night passes us by to the dawn.