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Being warm when he wakes up is Charlie’s first clue that something is off. Eggxile is everything but with his inability to build a livable structure. He sort of slapped some blocks together and hoped they’d hold. For now, they have, but he’s not so sure if that will last much longer.
His second clue is the fact he's hearing a very loud purring in his ear, and unless he acquired a cat in the last 24 hours, and he forgot, something is off.
His third clue is when he opens his eyes and a very handsome man has tucked himself underneath his chin. That handsome man being Cellbit’s husband! Holy shit, why the fuck is he sleeping next to someone else’s husband?!
Charlie backtracks to the purring and only slightly relaxes when he realizes the sound is coming from Cellbit himself. Now he’s in the somewhat more confusing situation of being between Quesadilla Island’s ‘it couple’, especially since he doesn’t remember anything past that cave he was in.
Cellbit must hear him starting to wake up — damn his hybrid hearing —, because he sits up behind Charlie and murmurs a good morning.
“Oh, don’t worry about him, he’ll be out for at least another two hours,” Cellbit says when Charlie looks helplessly at Roier’s limbs entangled with his own.
“I normally just do… this,” Cellbit reaches for one of their many pillows and slides it into Roier’s grasp. Roier immediately clutches the pillow instead, releasing Charlie.
Charlie watches as Roier slips back into a deep sleep like it’s nothing. He’s honestly impressed. He usually sleeps like shit.
“Why do you think he’s so hot? He gets plenty of beauty sleep,” Cellbit jokes, and Charlie feels himself flush after he notices he’s been staring.
“Come on, I’ll make you coffee, you like coffee?” Cellbit slides off the bed with a tug at Charlie’s arm. Charlie is still a bit dazed at the fact he woke up here, so he lets Cellbit pull him up without resistance.
“I don’t… really know?” Charlie admits as he walks with Cellbit to the kitchen. Cellbit fixes him with a look like he’s an enigma he hasn’t quite cracked, and Charlie forces down the need to shrink back.
“I haven’t really tried a lot of things,” Charlie continues, which sounds a lot sadder out loud than it does in his head. It’s true, though, he doesn’t really own anything that isn’t just bare essentials. Coffee falls outside that category.
A hand slides into his own after that admission, and it’s a quiet sort of acknowledgement that has Charlie steadfastly focused on reaching their destination. Charlie can feel the calluses where Cellbit has spent hours with a pen in hand poring over words and numbers. Charlie knows his hand is much smoother in comparison – he wonders if Cellbit notices.
The kitchen is just as nice as the bedroom he left, with its fancy appliances and well-stocked pantry. Charlie isn’t sure how to feel when he notices he doesn’t recognize some of the ingredients. Mariana was always the chef of the two of them.
He shouldn’t be thinking about Mariana when he’s nestled himself into the domestic life of two men he can never have. He’s already hurting himself enough.
Cellbit squeezes his hand and drops it as he goes to fiddle with the impressive machine that sits on their kitchen counter. It looks like it has fifteen different dials, and Charlie thinks he would break it if he looked at it the wrong way.
Coffee pours into two mugs effortlessly, and Charlie has to stop his jaw from dropping in shock. One of them is a bitter black coffee, while the other looks more like milk than coffee. Cellbit presses the milk concoction into Charlie’s hands, which Charlie is grateful for, because he’s not sure if he’d really like black coffee.
“Roier always tells me I have more coffee in my veins than blood,” Cellbit comments as he sips from his mug. The mug is emblazoned with what looks like stick figures of Richas and Cellbit, and the warm feeling Charlie gets is not from the mug he’s holding.
Charlie tries the coffee, and he finds immediately that he hates it. He tries to hide the disgust that is probably on his face, but Cellbit’s snort shatters that facade.
“You don’t have to drink it, Slime,” Cellbit says as he takes the mug back from Charlie. He pours it down the sink, and Charlie feels bad for being wasteful. In Charlie’s experience, you saved and repurposed everything you could. That was commonplace in his family, since he had a veritable bushel of siblings.
“Sorry,” Charlie mumbles, casting his gaze towards the floor. He fixates on a discoloration on the stone that looks suspiciously like blood until Cellbit touches his shoulder.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Cellbit moves his hand to cup Charlie’s jaw, and Charlie’s stomach flips two times over. It reminds him of the last time they were this close, and that time ended in a kiss. Charlie wishes he didn’t hold out the same hope for this time.
“You know, you look gorgeous in the morning light,” Cellbit says almost reverently. Charlie forces himself to keep eye contact even as his insides feel like they’re melting.
“You can’t say shit like that when your husband is in the other room, man,” Charlie laughs uncomfortably, pulling away from Cellbit’s grasp. Sure, he’d do anything to kiss the man in front of him, but he’s no homewrecker.
Charlie knows he has a reputation as a flirt, but he never follows through. He wouldn’t. Except now that boundary seems a lot more blurry.
“You really think my husband doesn’t already know? He’s the one who insisted we bring you back here,” Cellbit laughs, a warm sound that sneaks its way into Charlie’s heart.
“Wait, huh?” Charlie knows he sounds dumbfounded, but wrapping his head around the whole thing is proving a monumental task.
“Roier wants you, wants us,” Cellbit gestures between them and vaguely down the hall like that explains the fact the two hottest men on the island have propositioned him.
“Oh, I’m not really looking for a hookup,” Charlie fiddles with the frayed hem of his shirt as he realizes he’s having this conversation fully in Cellbit’s clothes.
Cellbit flushes at his response and finishes his coffee. Charlie wonders if he misspoke.
“I don’t mean a hookup, although I’m sure Roier would be interested,” Cellbit’s smirk softens into a smile as he steps towards Charlie again.
“I mean being with us. Like our boyfriend?” Cellbit almost sounds nervous, like what he’s saying will scare Charlie off.
“Oh,” Charlie says faintly as he thinks about the implications. He did enjoy having someone else in bed with him, and he did enjoy the feeling that someone would look out for him besides himself.
He’s just not sure if he’s the right choice. They could have absolutely anyone they wanted, and they chose him? Why? He’s the crazy man who exiled himself and barely knows who he is anymore. Regressing into Gegg took a lot out of him, but he remembers that Roier and Cellbit took care of him after he crashed.
“Obviously, you don’t have to decide right now or ever,” Cellbit rushes to say as he sees the warring emotions on Charlie’s face.
“Just know you’re wanted, I guess, is what we want you to know,” Cellbit finishes, and Charlie is going to cry. He’s going to cry in this stupidly expensive kitchen in front of this stupidly attractive man, because someone cares.
“Oh, baby, don’t cry,” Cellbit reaches for him again, and this time, Charlie lets him. The pet name feels too familiar and just right all at once.
“Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed,” Charlie feels tears slipping unbidden down his cheeks as Cellbit rummages through his inventory to pull out a handkerchief that of course he would have.
“What did I say about apologizing?” Cellbit chides gently, and Charlie sniffles. He wipes at his eyes that feel like they’re finally drying up, and he looks at Cellbit gratefully.
“Can I, um, can I kiss you?” Charlie asks carefully as he winds the handkerchief around his hands nervously.
“You’re sure?” Cellbit asks, and Charlie nods. He just wants to know if he’s taking the right step. Maybe they’ll kiss and Charlie will realize he doesn’t fit in, just like he thought.
Cellbit’s hand makes its way back up to Charlie’s jaw and their lips meet softly. It’s not the striking of a match, but rather the stoking of dying embers. It’s not the cresting of a wave, but rather the lapping of the tide at the shore. It’s not going out; it’s coming home.
In other words, Charlie doesn’t think he can keep going without this. He’s opened Pandora’s box, and he doesn’t think he can reasonably be expected to close it again.
Cellbit breaks the kiss first, and Charlie finds he doesn’t know what to do with his hands now.
He doesn’t have to, because suddenly he feels warm limbs wrap him up from behind. Roier presses against the length of his body, and the buzz from Cellbit’s kiss and the proximity of Roier has his head swimming.
“Gatinho, leaving me all alone in our cold bed? So mean,” Roier pouts, and Cellbit rolls his eyes. It’s another domestic moment that Charlie feels like he’s interrupting, and it’s what he fears he will always feel when he’s with them.
“I was being a good host, unlike you,” Cellbit shoots back, and Roier tightens his grip around Charlie.
“Mm, I guess he’s pretty cute, I don’t blame you,” Roier drops a kiss on the exposed part of Charlie’s shoulder where the t-shirt has slipped off.
“You’re lucky I already asked him to be our boyfriend with the way you’re acting,” Cellbit points out.
“¿Cómo? ¿Qué quieres decir con que no lo sabe?,” Roier sounds confused, and Charlie waits for the translation to appear on his communicator.
“He literally slept in our bed last night,” Roier continues in English, and Charlie does feel sort of embarrassed when he thinks about it like that.
“He just thought we were being nice,” Cellbit says with a sigh, like Charlie isn’t in the room with them.
“Slime, you are pretty, but you really are a pendejo, man,” Roier shakes his head, and Charlie blushes crimson.
“Now it’s my turn to tell you to be nice,” Cellbit laughs, and Charlie really does like the sound of it.
“I can be so nice,” Roier brags, stretching out the vowel in ‘so’. Charlie thinks he wants to kiss him, too.
“Yeah, well, Slime kissed me, and he didn’t kiss you, so, who’s nicer?” Cellbit gloats, and Roier lets out a faux gasp of shock.
“Well, we can fix that, if you want,” Charlie pipes up, and Roier excitedly disentangles himself from where he’s been clinging to him.
Kissing Roier is a lot like kissing Cellbit except Roier insists on pressing closer into his space, so he has skin-to-skin contact that makes him shiver.
Their kiss lasts a few beats longer, and it has the same coming home feeling he found in Cellbit’s kiss.
“Did Cellbit make you drink his nasty coffee?” Roier asks as he breaks the kiss, and Charlie is surprised Roier was able to figure that out when he had maybe one sip.
“It’s not nasty,” Cellbit protests, and Roier shoves his husband’s chest in response.
“Don’t worry, he didn’t like it, so now you have someone to kiss when my coffee breath bothers you,” Cellbit teases, and Charlie feels the tips of his ears grow warm. It’s domestic, but he’s included.
“Come back to bed; I don’t feel like dealing with things yet,” Roier whines as he tugs at both Cellbit and Charlie’s arms.
“Wait, you’re not kicking me out?” Charlie asks. It’s been long enough that he’s definitely overstayed his welcome, and he’s feeling fine now. He could easily make it back to Eggxile.
“Why would we do that?” Roier looks at him curiously, and Charlie realizes he didn’t understand their dynamic again.
“Slime, we meant it when we said we wanted you to be a part of us,” Cellbit has a way of commanding the presence of a room, and him telling Charlie that he belongs is no different.
“Can I ask a favor, then?” Charlie says timidly. Cellbit and Roier look at him expectantly.
“Will you call me Charlie?”