Work Text:
It is a cold night, and thunder rattles the window screens of London. Darkness cloaks the alleyways and flashes of lightning flood the sky with white. People shiver in the streets.
Ghosts pass through, unnoticed between the loud whistling of the wind. Two of these ghosts sit inside an office, tucked inside a brick building, untouched by the weather, waiting. But the stormy night doesn’t bring knocks to the door. The clock ticks. Thunder rumbles. Nothing.
It isn’t often that the Dead Boy Detectives Agency finds business running slowly. Strangely enough, tonight is one of those nights.
Edwin sits perched on the desk with his face buried in a book, as per usual. Charles lays on the couch, tossing a ball into the air and catching it, then tossing it again. Edwin hears the ball hit the floor; then feels thunder shake the office. Then he feels Charles’ eyes on him, burning into the back of his book.
“You dropped your ball.” He observes. He turns the page.
“It’s really going out there, innit?” Charles observes. He hears him shift and stand and his footsteps patter with the rain as he makes his way to the window.
“Yes, it is quite relentless, I’m afraid.” His eyes stay trained on his book as he replies.
“You’d think we’d have more clients on a night like this. It’s sort of.. the vibe for something to go wrong, right? I mean…. Dark and loud and stormy and all.”
“Yes, one would think that this… vibe would encourage higher levels of ghost distress and unruly behavior, I agree. But business can grow stagnant at unexpected times. For now, all we must do is wait.”
“Hmm.”
Charles continues to stare out the window.
Edwin continues to attempt to read. He fails.
“You remember the first time you were a ghost and it rained? I know it was weird for me.”
Edwin sighs. “I remember the first time you experienced rain as a ghost. You found it very fascinating, but were also frightened by it.”
“Yeah, it’s like one of those things where you can feel it, but you can’t. It’s not wet. Or it is, I mean you know there’s something, some sense of like.. cold, but you don’t get wet. It’s weird, mate.”
“You’ve said as much.”
The thunder crashes with a very loud boom and a rattling of the room follows.
Charles begins to pace. His footsteps keep pitter-pattering against the floorboards and the rain pours down harder outside the window. Edwin turns another page.
“And then there’s lightning. It’s brills, I’ve always loved the way it flashes all bright and makes cool jagged shapes in the sky. It’s like.. thunder’s better partner, y’know? All thunder does is be loud. Lightning’s a rank above.”
“Mm.” Edwin mumbles out so Charles knows he’s listening, as he continues to try and read his book.
Edwin personally does not consider lightning ‘brills’, nor is he a particularly big fan of thunder. The rain is bearable, even actually quite calming, but storms are far too overwhelming. They set his nerves on edge. Clearly it has a similar affect on Charles, or he would not be pacing back and forth in front of the desk and casting glances at the window, then Edwin, then the window again. Not to mention relentlessly insisting to make conversation despite Edwin’s blatant aversion to fully engaging in it.
Reading tends to ground him, when it is loud outside, or anytime he is anxious or uncertain. It seems to ground Charles as well, at times. However, at the moment, the footsteps and the downpour and the sporadic booms of thunder create a difficulty to concentrate. The words of his mystery thriller turn into a cloud surrounding his head, none of them sounding off to him in an orderly fashion. He blinks and attempts to start back at the top of the page. He fails.
“I’ve always thought being struck by lightning would be a bang on way to die. I mean, I never wanted to die, but… you’d go out in a flash like that.” Charles snaps his fingers. Edwin closes his book.
“I’d much rather have gone out that way. Who knows, maybe as a ghost I’d even‘ve ended up with like electric powers or something. That’d be brills.”
Edwin sets his book down next to him on the desk with a sigh. He looks at Charles. Really looks at him, for the first time since the storm began. He looks.. small. He looks like he needs a distraction. If continuing to converse will ease him, Edwin shall relent, he supposes.
“I never cared much for rain when I was alive.”
Charles’ downturned head perks up as he paces.
“Yeah?”
“Yes. At least not while I was outside. It always got all muddy and it would ruin my polished shoes. It seemed a shame to interrupt an otherwise perfectly nice day on which I was wearing perfectly nice clothing. But oh well. It did offer me an excuse to stay inside and read, instead of being forced to.. ‘muck about’ with the other boys.”
“Mm. Yeah, rain’s alright. Most of the time. It’s just the thunder…”
As if on cue, a very loud boom of thunder yet again rumbles and sets the room off kilter. Edwin does not miss Charles startle, followed by a slight shiver. Ghosts do not generally get cold, or chills, or feel any physical sensations, at least not to their fullest. Only as distant memories of what once was. Charles backtracks to retrieve his ball from beside the couch, and starts the toss and catch cycle anew.
Edwin hops from the desk and plants his feet on the floor, making his way towards the fragile looking boy in front of him. He has no clients to question, but he does have Charles. The most unsolvable and ongoing case he’s ever been faced with. It will always be Charles.
Edwin sits on the couch, and gestures for Charles to follow. Charles catches the ball, and then does so. He considers for a moment how to proceed, as he would when questioning a client. He knows better than to ask if his best friend is quite alright (“Yeah, mate, I’m brills!”) or to offer him comfort (“Nah, I’ll be alright”). So he settles on a more specific, less avoidable question.
“Charles, what is it about this.. particular stormy night that is.. unsettling you?“
“Ay, what makes you think I’m unsettled?”
Edwin fixes him with a knowing, no-nonsense stare.
“Well, you’re unsettled.”
Edwin ponders this statement.
“Are you implying that your feelings are not unique and therefore unimportant, or are you implying that my unease is what caused you to be unsettled?”
“Well, when you put it like that… It sounds like a lot of funny reasons for a lot of unsettlement, doesn’t it?”
Charles cracks his charming smile, but it’s wiped away by another crash of thunder and another shiver. He picks up the ball again and watches it as he tosses it from hand to hand.
“Look, it’s complicated, innit? I mean, it’s weird. Like I already said, I know. It’s just.. sometimes I miss life, and sometimes I’m haunted by life. Like I used to like rain, ‘cause I could feel it, and I miss that, but I used to hate storms because… It’s not like when I was cold and wet and scared there was ever anyone there. To… I don’t know.”
There’s a beat. Rain falls in a droning whoosh behind them.
“I was there.”
Charles smiles again in spite of himself.
“Yeah, you were there. I’ll never forget that.”
Edwin thinks he knows what he means though. He can’t imagine a young Charles, scared of the storm, soaked from playing outside, ever finding solace in his own home. In his ‘friends’. In anyone. He seemed to enjoy life so much, but his life was also painful, and everyone in his life that was supposed to support him only furthered the pain. No one offered him a towel or a blanket or a warm hug. Or even a smile. It’s a shame, for them, because Edwin would bet they never got to see the shining smile Charles can wear when he feels safe. That’s reserved for his best friend - his partner, now, the love of is life. It feels right to call it that. That seems like how it’s always been. They both take a moment in the quiet before Edwin searches for the right words to say.
“Charles. I am still here for you. Just like I was the day you died, and the way I have been since. You are not alone anymore. You haven’t been for a very long time. I understand you were treated poorly, but that is in the past. You have a new family now; Jenny and Crystal and Niko and I. We all care very deeply for you. And yes, it isn’t perhaps as vibrant as being alive, but I hope at times it may be more… compassionate.”
A flash of white floods the window pane. A low rumble of thunder follows.
“I love you, Charles. As I have said before. I don’t mind saying it again, but it would do best if you did not forget it.”
There is quiet. There is the sploshing of rain. Charles has set down the ball but still looks at the floor. Edwin sighs. That is the best he can muster.
To his surprise, he soon feels arms wrapped around him in a fierce embrace. They hold tight around his torso even as they slightly tremble. A face buries itself in Edwin’s shoulder. He is taken aback. He slowly melts into it and pats Charles’ back reassuringly.
“Thanks for that. For everything.”
“Of course, Charles. Anytime.”
He waits for the shivers to subside, hoping any warmth his ghost form can provide will be enough. They do slow. When Charles pulls away, Edwin reaches for the blanket hanging over the top of the couch.
“Here.” He drapes it around Charles’ shoulders carefully. “It may not bring much warmth, not to a ghost, but the pressure at least should aid you.”
“Thanks.” Charles looks him in the eye and flashes another charming smile, more genuine this time. Edwin’s stomach does a small flip.
The shivering does eventually stop. They settle into a nice sort of quiet, as Charles has clearly calmed. It is nice until it isn’t so nice. Edwin taps his fingers on his leg. He looks at his watch. He looks at the door. Why aren’t there any clients? It isn’t as if they haven’t had lulls in business before, but why now? Why at night, during a storm? The universe always seems determined to find the very specific things that will set him on edge. He stands and starts toward his book.
“Edwin, you alright?”
He does not reach his book before the lamps lose light, and the room goes pitch black. He stares out the window at the lights of the other offices of London. They have flickered away as well. It is the fault of the ill intentioned universe, as per usual.
Charles soon stands beside him in the dark.
“Huh.”
“Well, that’s that then.”
“You happen to have any candles around here?”
“What a ridiculous question. Of course I have candles.”
“Okay, ummm… how can I be useful?”
“Go…. Get something for us to do with our time, so I don’t feel like I’m going to suffocate.”
“Hey, it’s okay.”
He feels an arm around his shoulder in the darkness. A whisper of an arm, a ghost’s arm, undeniably. But the ghost beside him is sturdy and unrelenting in his love. It does not really seem so dark, after all.
Candles are lit. A game of Clue is brought out. All is well and normal inside the Dead Boy Detectives Agency’s official office, tucked within a brick building, inhabited by two ghosts. Untouched by the weather, they sit on the floor surrounded by flickering little flames of light. A blanket is draped around Charles’ shoulders as he moves Miss Scarlett into the study to make his next accusation. Edwin sits with crossed legs and perfect posture across from him, jotting down thorough notes with his pen.
He would never, ever admit it, but he may be having a twinge more fun than he would’ve if there had been clients that night. But only a twinge. There, as Professor Plum, solving a fake case, in the dim light, on the ground of this lived in little office, sitting across from the person he loves most in the world, he can’t quite think of any other way he would’ve liked to spend the night.