Work Text:
Edwin and Charles dance.
It didn’t start for a while, at least a few years in, when they were finally starting to shed some layers of armor in front of each other. Even then though, it was just Charles at first, insisting Edwin join him while he played 80s classics on the CD player he had swiped from the electronics store down the street.
Edwin felt, of course, too anxious, too damaged. It had been a very long time since his body had been used as a vehicle for joy in that way. In fact, the last time was when he was fencing for St Hilarion's team, and even then it was very solitary. A mask between Edwin and his opponent, kept meters apart by the lengths of their foils. Then, after his death, his body became a tool for Hell to use against him, subjected to all kinds of violence.
His mind was stuck there still, even when Charles gripped his wrist and tried to pull him to the center of the office, singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody. He did enjoy watching Charles though, and since Charles couldn’t get him to join, he put on a great show. He acted out parts, lip syncing dramatically to the songs. Some of the CDs he would play every time, so eventually Edwin learned words to those songs. He would subtly mouth along with Charles, unable to hide the upward curve of his lips.
One day, they had solved a case that had brought two siblings together again, and instead of a tearful reunion, the brother and sister were bursting with joy. Their laughter was infectious, their playfulness leaving an imprint on the very walls of the office. When they left, Charles flashed a wide, knowing grin at Edwin. It was at this point that Edwin usually pushed back against Charles, pretending to be annoyed by his antics and silly music, although they both knew that was a lie. This time though, Edwin smiled back.
That was the day that Charles found the one song that could get Edwin on his feet every time: Footloose.
Edwin couldn’t explain it. It was nothing like the music that played during his time, so it wasn’t as if it felt familiar. Even if it had, that certainly wouldn’t have been a reason to join. He hated the stiff, soulless dancing back when he was alive, so why would he do it when he wasn’t under any obligation?
This dancing was different though, this thing with Charles. When Charles moved, it was like watching raw emotion radiating outward. There were no rules or steps or nuns to smack your hands with rulers when they weren’t in the right place. There was just Charles, his energy expanding and filling the entire office. When Footloose came on that night, Edwin knew it was over. Charles kicked his shoes off (appropriately) and for the first time since Hell, Edwin did the same.
Edwin was offbeat and awkward at first, the manifestation of his body having the same graceful yet reserved movement that it had when he was alive. He knew how to move beautifully, just not with this much freedom. Charles didn’t care though. He was so happy to have Edwin there with him, dancing, laughing, that he looked as though he might cry.
By the time Pretty Young Thing played through the speaker, Edwin felt the constant tension that plagued his body ease up. He shrugged off his jacket, and the significance of the gesture was not lost on Charles. After Edwin had tossed his jacket onto the couch, Charles reached out and took one of his hands. It was new, so new he worried that Edwin might pull his hand away, but he didn’t. Instead, he let Charles set a pace for both of them to move to. Although their hands were the only point of contact, Charles’ rhythmic tug was enough for Edwin to stay on beat.
That night, something inexplicable clicked between them, like finding the last piece of a puzzle after years of being incomplete.
They’re long overdue for a night of dancing. Port Townsend has set them back weeks, and Edwin can feel the strain settling in his muscles. Now that they’re back in London, every other thought is consumed by the way Charles moves, his eyes drawn to the old CD player over and over.
“What are you thinking about?” Charles says, interrupting Edwin’s daydream.
“Nothing,” Edwin replies too quickly. He’s sitting at the desk, a book laid open. He could have sworn he was just reading it, but then… but then…
“You’re always thinking about something, mate,” Charles says. “And don’t say you were thinking about that stupid book. You weren’t even looking at it.” Charles raises an accusing eyebrow.
Edwin blushes, his eyes darting back to the CD player involuntarily. He hopes it was fast enough that Charles doesn’t notice, but Charles clocks it immediately, turning his head to find whatever Edwin had been distracted by. Charles must hone in on the CD player, because when he turns back around, a mischievous smile is playing across his lips. He takes the few steps towards the player, turning it on and then glancing over his shoulder at Edwin.
“Well, come on then,” Charles says, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
Edwin rolls his eyes, but he’s already on his feet, moving to the center of the room.
The music starts, and Edwin feels stiff at first, his phantom muscles pulling taut. Charles takes a moment to shake his whole body, letting the harmonies sink into his bones. Then, he takes Edwin’s hand.
It feels so natural, so freeing, and all of the events of Port Townsend fade into the background. He feels as though Charles has just pulled him into the eye of the storm, a place of refuge from the hurricane that rages around them.
After I Wanna Dance With Somebody (a song that Edwin has grown to love), Charles lets out a faint sigh. Edwin gives him a questioning look, because it almost sounds as though he’s sad about something.
“What’s wrong?” Edwin asks, and he takes Charles’ other hand without thinking.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, mate.” Charles gives him a smile that’s meant to be reassuring, but it falters.
“No,” Edwin says. “Be honest with me, Charles.”
“I wish — I wish I was alive,” Charles says quietly.
Edwin has always known this about Charles, but the words hurt today.
“Like, I miss so many things about being alive. I miss eating. I miss tasting food and smelling… things.”
Edwin doesn’t miss the pause, but before he can figure out what it means, Charles recovers.
“I miss feeling things. Really feeling things. It sounds stupid, but I miss feeling rain on my skin. I miss feeling the warmth of the sun. I miss… I miss…” He trails off.
“I’m sorry, Charles,” Edwin says.
“I miss touching. Touching people.” Charles says, and it’s barely above a whisper.
The words sting, because Edwin has been feeling Charles this whole time. Does that mean Charles can’t feel his returning touch? Can Charles feel it, but it’s not enough? Is Charles talking about romantic, or heaven forbid, sexual touch? Or maybe Edwin is the odd one out again, with his upbringing coming back to haunt him. He was barely touched when he was alive, not even by his parents. It’s possible that the illusion of touch that he is experiencing as a ghost is more than he had ever known in his few living years.
Charles seems to sense the shift in Edwin’s demeanor.
“I didn’t mean — It’s different with you, of course, it’s just —“ Charles blunders.
“No, I get it,” Edwin says.
“You do?” Charles asks, looking relieved.
“Yes. You would like more options than just me, I understand that.” Edwin says stiffly.
Charles' face drops. “No, no Edwin, that’s not what I meant at all.”
“It’s okay, Charles, really. I know how much you wanted to feel Crystal.” Edwin says, but the words taste bitter in his mouth.
“Edwin please, just listen for a minute,” Charles pleads. Edwin stays silent, because the tight feeling in his throat won’t let him make a sound. “I miss feeling human touch. I’m grateful that I can still feel you, but I… I wish we were both still alive, here, now. I want to be able to hold you and actually feel you, solid and warm and breathing and alive. I want to experience that with you.”
“Oh,” Edwin says. He really wasn’t expecting that. He doesn’t know what else to even say.
“Well?” Charles says. “Say something, please.”
“I wish for that as well,” Edwin whispers.
The response spurs Charles on. “I know we can feel each other a little, more than we can feel other things. I don’t know if that’s because we’re both ghosts or because we’re… because we’re us, but I’m glad. Sometimes though, I just get so mad. A bit cruel of the universe, innit?”
“What do you mean?” Edwin asks.
“I needed to die in order to meet you, but you’re the very thing that makes me crave being alive,” Charles says wistfully.
Yet again, Edwin is left speechless by Charles’ outpouring of honest emotions, laying himself bare. This time though, Edwin finds his words after a moment. “I do believe I know what you mean,” he says, and he holds up their hands, still connected loosely from their dancing. Charles looks at their raised hands and shifts his, sliding his fingers between Edwin’s, locking their hands. “Feels nice,” Edwin says. “But it would most likely feel better if we were alive.”
“Most likely?” Charles says with an amused huff. Then a realization hits, and he gives Edwin a look of concern. “What do you mean most likely ?”
“I do not understand what you’re asking.”
“Do you not know? Did you not hold hands when you were alive?”
“It wasn’t as common a practice back then. My mother held my hand as a child to keep me by her side, but she always had gloves on. Unless you count handshakes, that’s it,” Edwin offers up a shrug, as though it really isn’t a big deal.
“Bloody hell, Edwin,” Charles says, his eyes looking so beautiful and sad. He grips Edwin’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Edwin says, but he’s deflecting, trying to downplay the psychological impact it’s had on him for the last thirty years.
“Does this make it harder?” Charles asks, nodding his head to where their hands are still linked.
“No,” Edwin says, a small smile playing on his lips. “I suppose it makes it easier.”
“Well, okay then,” Charles smiles so brightly, Edwin swears it could rival the sun. “I guess I’ll have to do it more often.”
Without thinking, Edwin steps forward. He starts to lean his head down, aiming to nestle into Charles’ shoulder, but Charles tilts so Edwin’s forehead falls gently against his own. For a while, they stay like that. They breathe, though they don’t need to; they share the same space, the same air.
“Sleeping,” Charles says with a start. “I miss sleeping too.”
Edwin can’t help but laugh. “I tend to agree, although I would not like to imagine the nightmares I would have. You know, because of Hell.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Charles says with a small smile. “Is this you being positive or negative? I really can’t tell, mate.”
“Neither.” Edwin replies. “Simply stating facts.”
“Well I know for a fact that you would’ve stopped having those nightmares a long time ago.”
“Oh really? What makes you so sure, Charles Rowland?”
“Because I would always be there to make you feel better, of course,” Charles winks at him, but their faces are so close that all he sees is a fluttering of eyelashes.
“You would always be there? As in —” Edwin says, trying not to blush and failing miserably.
“As in, sleeping with you? In the most respectful way possible, yeah.” Charles replies, clarifying that there is no devious meaning behind his words. “That would be another great thing about being alive. Cuddling,” then he adds, “Cuddling with you.”
Edwin feels as though his chest could burst open, his entire body saturated with love.
“I hate being dead,” Charles whispers, “but there’s not a thing I would change.” After a moment, his eyes light up. “Oh! Stay here,” Charles moves to pull away. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Just… don’t move.”
Edwin stands exactly where he is, not even turning his head when he hears Charles rummaging through the box of CDs behind him. The CD player opens then closes, and a new song starts to play.
Over the years, Edwin and Charles have gathered an impressive collection of CDs, giving them a wide variety of music to choose each time. Most of the CDs in their collection are full of upbeat 80’s hits, the kind that Charles can jump around to, the kind that would leave them exhausted if they had functional organ systems. Several years ago, however, Edwin insisted they accrue more options. Charles was not enthusiastic, yet he was willing to compromise in the end. They stay within the 1980’s, but they pick out some new genres. They still ended up listening to Charles’ favorites most of the time, but today it seems Charles has something different in mind.
Charles puts the CD in and walks back over to Edwin, reaching for him again. Edwin puts his hands out, but Charles only grabs one, opting to rest his other hand gently on Edwin’s waist. He pulls him close as the opening chords start. Edwin timidly rests his free hand on Charles’ shoulder. The singer croons the opening lyrics:
How can I convince you what you see is real?
Who am I to blame you for doubting what you feel?
Edwin feels Charles’ head drop into his shoulder. Charles begins to move them, swaying back and forth. The movements are so tender, so different from Charles’ usual fast paced steps. Edwin’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses his cheek against Charles’ curls. Just when Edwin starts to think that this truly is the perfect moment, the chorus starts, and Charles turns his head just so, singing quietly into Edwin’s ear:
Now I look into your eyes, I can see forever,
The search is over, you were with me all the while.
When the chorus is over, Charles nuzzles into the crook of Edwin’s neck. Edwin can feel him singing the rest of the words, mouth moving against his skin, voice muffled. The lyrics are sweet yet powerful, and they leave Edwin misty-eyed by the last few lines:
Then I touched your hand, I could hear you whisper,
The search is over, love was right before my eyes.
As the song ends, Charles’ gentle rocking slows, coming to a halt when the last chord fades out. Edwin can’t help but place a light kiss on Charles’ temple, not caring if he’s crossing some invisible boundary. Charles just hums, lips brushing his neck, and warmth diffuses from the spot where Charles' lips rest. He may be dead, but the feeling in Edwin’s chest is unfathomably alive and flourishing.
“We should do that more often,” Charles mumbles.
“You’re the one who insists we listen to the same three discs each time,” Edwin says.
“Not fair,” Charles says, looking up to meet Edwin’s eyes. “You like it. I know you do.”
“Perhaps,” Edwin replies. He’s trying not to smile and give in, but the tug on the corners of his mouth is relentless.
“Fine,” Charles says, but he’s already caught onto the playfulness in Edwin’s eyes. “You pick the CD next time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I can’t work that silly machine.”
“You can’t work the CD player we’ve owned for twenty years?” Charles raises his eyebrows in disbelief.
At that, Edwin folds, the smile spreading across his face.
“Ah I see,” Charles tilts his head. “Another thing you refuse to learn because I’ll always be here to do it for you?”
Edwin rolls his eyes, but a blush accompanies the smile.
“You know what?” Charles says. “I honestly can’t even blame you for that, because it’s true. Our destinies are one,” he quotes the song. “I will always be with you. Always.”
“I love you,” Edwin blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain. He opens his mouth again to say something else, apologize maybe, but he’s cut off.
“I love you too,” Charles says.
Edwin brushes his fingers through Charles hair, basking in the love between them. He doesn’t push Charles any further, knowing that Charles will come to a conclusion about his feelings in time. They have forever, and that will always be enough.