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A storm howled and rattled the walls of the house, testing their questionable craftsmanship. Stars blinked in the sky, and the windows shook with every gust of wind blown in their direction. Charlie winced. He had never liked storms. They reminded him of a particularly unpleasant night during his childhood. He shoved those thoughts away, turning to where his daughter sat on the floor, acting out a scene with her only two toys; simple things carved lovingly from wood. She was humming softly as she held one up higher than the other, which clattered to the floor. He smiled fondly.
“Flippa, do you think we can be done playing for tonight? It’s getting late,” he said, dropping down next to her on the floor. She paused and looked up.
“Don’t wanna,” her tablet read, and she made a pouty face. “The princess is about to save the kingdom,”
Charlie nodded thoughtfully. If it were him, he wouldn’t want to go to bed right before the end, either.
“Well, how long do you think it’ll take her? I think it’s okay if you play for five more minutes, maybe,” he negotiated. Juanaflippa paused, considering.
“I’ll finish,” she promised, then turned back to her toys. Charlie watched with fascination as she manipulated the little wooden dolls, clashing them against each other several times in what he could only assume was an epic battle. Her little dragon wings fluttered a couple times as she held the princess aloft to address her subjects. Then, she held her tablet up again.
“I’m done now, papa!” She grinned, and Charlie scooped her up into his arms. The two dolls lay out on the floor as he walked over to the hidden bookshelf-door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He walked down the narrow hallway, then stopped at the ladder.
“Ready to go up?” He asked Juanaflippa, and when she nodded, he set her down and waited for her to clamber up the rungs before following her. When he got to the top, standing up, he dusted his shirt off slightly. Juanaflippa giggled. He was lucky that the ceiling of the small room was just high enough that he didn’t have to duck. Juanaflippa was sat cross-legged on her mattress, looking up expectantly at Charlie.
“Alright, climb under the covers,” he told her, gesturing with his hands. The little girl crawled up onto the pillow and slipped her legs under the blanket, then slid under. Charlie sat down on the mattress just next to her, feet hanging off the bed. He carded his fingers through her hair gently as spoke.
“Do you want a story tonight, Flippa?” Charlie asked his daughter, and she nodded. He racked his brain for something, before landing on a story one of his older siblings had told him, when he was much, much younger. “Alright,” he started.
“Once, there was a little worm named…” he paused. “Gregory. His name was Gregory. And he had lots of brothers and sisters, and they all loved him-” he pushed away a memory “-even if they didn’t always show it. One day, he had a fight with one of his siblings, and they both said things they didn’t mean. The little worm got sad and ran away. He sat under a leaf all alone-” at this point he noticed Juanaflippa’s expression clouded with concern. He had to turn this story around fast. “But- but then, his sibling came and found him. They said they were sorry for the things they said, and Gregory apologized too. Because they both loved each other, even if they fought sometimes. Siblings are like that. Uh- the end,”
Juanaflippa smiled at him, then rolled over in her bed, burrowing into the pillow and blankets. Charlie smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind one of her dragon ears before standing and walking to the trapdoor. He blew out the torches that lit the room and descended down the ladder. As soon as he left the hallway and pushed the bookshelf closed, he breathed a sigh of relief. Juanaflippa wasn’t always so easy to put to bed. Charlie made his way over to the open wall that overlooked the cliff. Fondly, he remembered the first day with Juanaflippa. Currently, though, rain created a sort of curtain in front of him, pounding on the ground below. He supposed it was almost peaceful, if he closed his eyes and blocked out the right memories. Taking a deep breath, he tried to let himself relax while he waited for Mariana to return. He slowly sat on the hardwood floor, reaching out a hand and letting the water rinse over his rough, calloused skin. This was alright, maybe. And the repetitive sound of the water was sort of relaxing, he had to admit. Charlie gave a small smile, crossing his legs and opening his eyes again, watching the open expanse of land in front of him soak up the showers from above. He hoped Mariana would be home soon. He missed her. Maybe they could sit and watch the rain together.
Then, a clap of thunder rang out clear, and lightning peeled across the sky.
Charlie jumped back like he’d been burned, eyes wide with fear and shock. His heart rate and breathing were almost double what they’d been not moments ago. He stood up on shaky legs, stepping back into the safety of his home. Maybe he should put a window up tomorrow, so nothing could get at him or his family. He stumbled backward a couple more steps and tripped on one of Juanaflippa’s wooden dolls, falling backwards onto the couch. There, he curled in on himself slightly, doing whatever he could to still his heart and calm his breathing. He pinched the underside of his wrist, the sharp pain doing little to drain the panicked feeling in his chest. When he pulled his hand away, there was a red line where his fingers had been.
Time seemed to blur. Charlie wasn’t sure how long he layed curled up on the couch, but eventually, he heard shuffling outside, the clunk of boots, and the sound of a doorknob turning.
Slowly, he brought himself to a sitting position, looking up just in time to see Mariana step through the door, yellow suit, cape, and deep brown hair fully drenched from the torrent of rain outside. Her glasses were covered in spots of water, and immediately started taking off her rain-soaked clothes. Starting with the cape, he looked around the slightly dimmed room, squinting through the blurred lenses of his glasses.
“¿Mi amor?” called the familiar accented voice. “I’m home, cariño,” by now, Mariana was in her underclothes, a loose white tank top and baggy yellow pants. Charlie willed himself to speak, picking at the nails on his hands.
“Mf- here,” he croaked. “Couch.” slowly, he brought up his hand, giving his wife a small wave. Mariana’s eyes found his, and her brows knitted together in concern.
“¿Mi vida? ¿Estás bien?” he asked, cleaning his glasses with his shirt as he made his way over to the couch.
“Fine,” Charlie responded. The one-word responses were not convincing Mariana.
“Did something happen? Flippa- ella esta bien?” she probed, casting a nervous glance at the bookshelf.
Charlie shook his head. “Flippa’s fine.” Mariana was getting awfully close to asking about something he hadn’t really told anyone before. His childhood. Charlie had supposed it would make sense for them to talk about it eventually, as part of their new ‘trusting, loving partners’ thing, but now that they were actually getting close to it, he felt like shutting down. He didn’t want Mariana to view him as broken; something to pity.
His wife’s expression quickly became annoyed, but there was concern lying under it that made Charlie’s chest squeeze a bit.
“Why are you acting like this, mamahuevo?” she snapped. Charlie stared at the wall just behind Mariana for a moment before answering.
“Don’t like the storm,” he said, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Bad memories.”
Mariana’s expression immediately shifted, suddenly understanding. She dropped down onto the couch cushion next to him, reaching out a hand to Charlie’s arm before stopping herself.
“Can I touch?” he asked. They weren’t the best when it came to communicating boundaries, but both of them had made it clear to the other on the first day that consent was needed, especially in the event that either of them were having a tough time with communication or emotional regulation.
Charlie nodded slowly, Mariana’s hand returned, landing on his forearm, thumb stroking gently over his skin.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently as Charlie leaned further into her touch, scooting close to her on the couch. Charlie shook his head. “Okay. That’s fine, mi vida, you-” he was cut off by another clap of thunder. Charlie winced, and Mariana opened her arms, beckoning her husband into her embrace. Charlie crawled forward, and two lanky arms closed around him, followed by a pair of white feathered wings. “Estas bien. I’m here, mi amor,” Mariana whispered, fingers coming up to trace patterns lazily on his back, grounding Charlie in the real world. He sighed slowly, his hands going to grab at the fabric of the undershirt. Almost instinctively, they tangled their legs together, Charlie wrapping his tail around one of Mariana’s legs. Skin was pressed against skin everywhere it could be, so much so it was like they were trying to melt into each other. One of Mariana’s hands moved up Charlie’s back to the back of his neck and began running fingers through strands of soft brown hair, and the rain outside dulled to a soft droning. The rest of the island, with all of its loud noise and busy movement, fell away. Charlie and Mariana’s entire world was this couch, tangled up in each other. They were getting used to exploring nonsexual intimacy, and it was- nice. Really, really nice.
“I love you,” Charlie mumbled. That shocked both of them. Pet names were fine, but a confession like that outside of the bedroom was new. Mariana inhaled sharply, and Charlie immediately moved to get off of her, convinced he’d done something wrong; he was moving too fast. But then:
“Te amo tambien,” he whispered, punctuated with a gentle kiss to the top of Charlie’s head. Suddenly, he was boneless in her arms again. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, fluttering around in his ribcage, the rhythm almost identical to the one he could hear underneath him. It was awkward, but Charlie managed to lift himself up slightly for a moment, pressing his lips forward to meet Mariana’s. They stayed in the kiss for as long as they could, savoring the moment. This was different than their kisses used to be. This was gentle, sweet, and loving, where before it had been angry, biting and pushing, like fighting but with their lips.
Charlie’s heart soared as he pulled away for a breath and met Mariana’s chocolate brown eyes, undeniably full of affection and tenderness and love, love, love. He went back to nuzzling into her chest, giggling slightly.
“What are you doing?” Mariana asked, laughing as he spoke, a musical sound that Charlie wanted to hear every day of his life, until he was dead and in the ground. And maybe even after that.
“You’re- you’re a nice pillow,” Charlie said, unable to stop himself from grinning against Mariana’s chest. He swore he could hear her roll her eyes.
“I need to get to bed, pendejo,” Mariana said with a softness that made the insult feel like a pet name. To them, it almost was.
“No.”
“No?”
“No. You’re sleeping here, with me,” Charlie said decisively.
“On the couch?”
“Yep. Now be still, you’re moving too much.”
Mariana was silent for a moment before shifting a few more times and settling down.
“Whatever. Goodnight, mi vida,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Mariana,” Charlie yawned, sighed, and closed his eyes. Mariana’s chest was his pillow, and her wings his blanket.
--
When they woke up, glasses smudged from forgetting to remove them, neither moved for a while, staying in each other’s presence, tangled up in the morning sun.