Work Text:
“Edwin, mate, you cannot keep relying on me to fight everything for you! What if I’m not there?”
Charles hears a sigh from the sofa as Edwin lifts his gaze from his newest read: The Discoverie of Witchcraft. A flat stare has him halting mid-step on his mission to wear a hole through the floor of their office as someone without a corporeal form.
When he stops, Edwin lowers his book just a fraction of an inch, which Charles counts as a win. He glances towards the ceiling for a brief moment before saying, “But you’re always there, Charles. Why on Earth should I learn to fight when you’re already top-notch?”
Charles has to push down the warm feeling trying to flood through him and wipe the smile from his face because he knows what Edwin’s doing and it’s not going to work. Edwin is not going to distract him with flattery and weasel his way out of this.
Not again, at least.
“Okay, yes, obviously I’ll defend you when I’m there,” He walks up to Edwin and places his hands on his shoulders, lowering himself down to look him in the eye, “But something could happen, and I could get hurt, or we could get split up and I would feel much better if I knew that you could hold your own, yeah?”
Something in Edwin’s posture shifts: his shoulders unscrunch slightly and he dips his chin just so, and Charles knows that he’s almost got him.
Time to pull out the big guns.
Charles gently pries the book out of Edwin’s hands before taking them in his own, squeezing them together as he asks, “Please? For me?”
A long exhale escapes Edwin, his eyes close as his head thumps against the back of the sofa and Charles waits with bated breath. When his eyes open, they’re filled with a sort of exasperated fondness that is only ever directed at Charles, and he knows that he’s won.
“Fine.”
Bullseye.
“But!” He quickly adds as Charles’ face lights up, “I will not be putting on those ridiculous gloves again. Do we have a deal?”
Charles pulls back just to stick his hand out, yanking Edwin up when he grabs it and catching him when he stumbles with delighted laughter at Edwin’s unseemly yelp.
“That was your first lesson: Always be prepared. But yeah, mate. Deal.”
Edwin slides off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves in precise movements that betray a subtle grace. Charles just knows that he would pick up fighting as easily as any dead language if he had just a little more confidence in his abilities. Edwin is incredibly intelligent and he’s quick on his feet, where Charles has spent years figuring out how to properly defend them, Edwin would surely be a natural.
He just needs to get Edwin to realize that.
Already in his tank top, Charles does a few quick stretches to warm himself up out of habit, feeling a thrill of something up his spine when he catches Edwin tracing his movements with an appreciative gaze.
There’s also some mental calculations going on in that big brain of his, Charles just knows it. At the very least, there’s a subconscious attempt at cataloging the way he moves, cataloging potential openings that could lead to potential weaknesses.
“Alright mate. We’re gonna start with some basic self-defence, yeah?” Edwin nods, and Charles leads him through some strikes and somebody throws. His main focus is showing Edwin how to use his opponents’ momentum and strength against them, considering that most of the things attacking them care more about brute force than strategic attacks.
The problem is, that Edwin refuses to put any sort of real power behind what Charles is teaching him, because, “This is wholly unnecessary, Charles. I simply do not wish to hurt you. Is it not enough for you that I know the actions I must take to defend myself?”
“No, Edwin,” Charles drags his hands across his face before he lets them drop to his sides, “Knowing what to do is very different from knowing how to do it, yeah?”
Edwin offers a noncommittal hum in return, his eyes drifting back to the book that he’d left on the sofa when he thinks Charles isn’t watching him.
“Oi, mate, can you at least pretend to pay attention?” Charles pokes his friend in the side as he asks this, and the very poorly concealed flinch gives him an idea.
Edwin’s eyes narrow at the growing grin on Charles’ face, “I do not like that look. That’s your I have an idea that’s going to get one or both of us into a lot of trouble look.”
“That one’s a bit of a mouthful there,” Charles says without bothering to tamp down whatever was going on with his face, “But I do have an idea that I think we should dry, and if it doesn’t work, you can go back to your book. Sound good?”
A loud sigh escaped Edwin as he said, “I suppose. Let us get this over with.”
“Great! We’re going to practice getting out of the bear hug again,” Charles situated himself behind Edwin, wrapping his arms tight around his torso, “but this time, I’m going to give you some incentive to actually escape.”
“What are you—ah Charles! Nohohoho!” Edwin’s knees begin to buckle as Charles gently claws into his sides, his attack made much easier by the fact that Edwin had shed his most protective layer.
Something he was likely regretting right about now.
“That’s it mate! Dropping your weight is the first step. Do you remember what comes next?” Charles leaned close, lightly brushing his nose against the shell of Edwin’s ear in a way that made him draw his shoulders up with a squeal.
“This isn’t fahahair!” Charles’ arms remained firmly where they were, poking and prodding despite Edwin’s much more genuine attempts to wrench them away.
He lamented the fact that he couldn’t change targets much, but he contented himself with lightening his touch, tracing barely-there patterns against Edwin’s sides knowing that the light touch was much more unbearable than a firm one.
As was demonstrated by the significant rise in pitch of Edwin’s frantic giggles.
And, well, Charles couldn’t not comment on it, “Well aren’t you just precious? You know, you could make alllllll this stop by just breaking the hold the way I told you to,” He can’t help but grin at the desperate edge Edwin’s laughter gains at the teasing, “I mean, it can’t be that difficult, since you already know the actions you must take to defend myself, right?”
At this, Edwin seems to rally himself. Despite the wail that was elicited by Charles kneading up and down his torso like a particularly enthusiastic cat, Edwin managed to fully drop his body weight, bring his heel down on Charles’ foot, and send an elbow flying into his ribs.
This sent Charles stumbling back just enough that Edwin managed to twist himself out of his grasp, rubbing furiously at his sides as his giggles slowly began to taper off.
“That wahas—ahem,” Edwin pauses to clear his throat, taking on a rather serious tone that was completely ruined by the bright grin still plastered across his face, “That was cruel, and unusual, and completely unnecessary.”
“Oh please,” Charles scoffs, “That was totally necessary! And it worked! You listened to what I said, you actually did it, and now you live to fight another day.”
Charles was feeling rather proud of himself if he was being honest. Who knew that all it would take to get the immovable Edwin Payne to actually learn how to defend himself was a few well-placed pokes?
Well, actually, Charles did.
That’s why he did it.
Edwin speaks as he calmly straightens out his shirt and smooths his hair back into place, “Well, Charles, if you want me to practice fighting so badly, who am I to not oblige you?”
And before Charles could even think to react, Edwin launched himself at him, sending them both to the floor and quickly sitting on Charles’ back, effectively pinning him on the floor.
Well, fuck, maybe he should’ve seen this coming.
“Edwin. Edwin, wait! We can talk about this! We can—Edwihihihin shihihit!” The rest of whatever he was going to say was cut off by Edwin immediately going for one of his worst spots and rubbing his knuckles into Charles’ ribs.
“Charles, really,” Edwin has to raise his voice to be heard over the shrieking laughter, but he doesn’t seem to mind, “It can’t be that difficult. All you need to do, is break out of my hold.”
A healthy dose of choice expletives are hurled at Edwin because Charles does not appreciate his own words being used against him like this.
The fingers stop, and Charles sags onto the floor even as a disappointed sigh above him raises goosebumps along his arms and up the back of his neck, “Now that was not very gentlemanly of you, Charles. What do you have to say for yourself and your poor sportsmanship?”
Time seems to slow as Charles feels five fingers come to rest in the hollow of his knee, not yet moving, but taunting him with the inevitable.
But Charles Rowland will never concede, so he says, “You can take your poor sportsmanship, and you can shove it right up your—wait! WAHAHAHAIT EDWIN NO! PLEHEHEHEASE!!!”
It turns out that Charles could use some practice in self-defence as well, and Edwin is more than willing to lend a hand.
Or two.