Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charles is bored. 

It’s the all consuming boredom that makes his skin itch in a way that nothing can satiate it. He’s not able to focus on anything and god has he tried: the words of his book are swimming off of the page and escaping him as he tries to focus so he abandons that, the paperwork does the same thing, and even reorganising his bag of tricks holds no joy so he leaves it half unpacked, trinkets and tools scattered across the floor. 

He’s bored. 

Monty seems to not be having the same problem though, because this entire time he’s been sitting peacefully reading some book on astrology, curled up in the armchair next to Niko’s bed. 

And unfortunately for him, Charles is going to change that. 

He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help himself, he’s so mind-numbingly, achingly, devastatingly bored and Monty is right there and he still really knows nothing about him. They’ve barely chatted after their first interaction, and really Monty was rather rude and dismissive of him  - if he does say so himself - but god does he want to at least get to know him. He likes to tell himself it’s just because he likes being friends with everyone, but deep down, in the part of him he doesn’t like to acknowledge exists, he knows that it’s because as a person Charles just desperately needs everyone to like him and it that it really really sucks not having Monty be one of those people. 

So what better time to change it? 

He stands, then stretches, and Monty’s eyes flicker up momentarily from his book, before he settles back into the chair. He’s so flighty, so reactive to everything and Charles doesn’t really understand. Monty’s almost reminiscent of himself, the way he flinches when they get a little too loud, when doors are slammed too hard, and especially when Esther’s name is brought up. 

It’s confusing, Monty is confusing, but it makes sense. A boy involved in a car accident and thrown into a coma, who’s left seeing ghosts and things he doesn’t understand now suddenly being involved in everything the Dead Boy Detective Agency brings, of course he’s a bit of a mess. But it does make Charles wonder. 

Who is Monty really? 

Monty doesn’t react as Charles crosses the room, but as he perches on the edge of the bed next to him, he looks up, his brows knitting as he sets his book down. 

“Hi..?”

“Whatcha reading?” 

Monty raises an eyebrow, and for a moment it seems as if he’s going to snub him, but then he smiles and it’s something so fleeting and shy as it dances across the corner of his lips. 

“It’s a book about astrology, and more particularly about the language of the Earth and the relationship between the planet and the stars.” He explains, turning the book so Charles can see the cover. 

Charles leans in, inspecting it as he rests his chin on his fist. 

“I don’t know anything about astrology, actually.” He confesses, “But maybe you could tell me about it?”

Monty’s expression morphs into one of genuine delight, and it’s the most excited Charles has ever seen him as he tucks the receipt he’s using as a bookmark in between the pages and sets it down on the table. 

“ Okay, well, there’s - where to start?” He leans forwards to match Charles, his eyes bright as he clasps his hands together. “Well it - no, I know, could I do your star chart?” 

Charles nods immediately, even though he has absolutely no idea what he’s getting himself in for other than that it’s astrology-related, and Monty’s expression somehow only grows brighter. 

He’s quick to his feet, stretching up on his tiptoes for a moment (he looks like a bird about to take flight, Charles thinks) before he finds a notebook and a handful of pens and he deposits himself  not back in his chair, but cross-legged on the bed facing him as he deposits his handful onto the sheets. 

“Okay, I need your date of birth, where you were born, and roughly what time in the day - if you know.” 

So Charles tells him.

It takes almost an hour, and Monty explains everything in such detail as he draws out the most confusing and complex chart that Charles has ever seen. He takes such care with it, carefully doodling star symbols and little lines and a handful of stars and moons and suns and little annotations around the page. It hardly makes any sense, but he nods along anyway, listening carefully and attentively throughout. He asks questions, and Monty beams every time he does, re-explaining or going on tangents with the same gentle passion that Eddwin always carries when he and Charles discuss things like this. 

It’s fun, genuinely fun, despite the fact he doesn’t understand half of the words coming out of his mouth and as Monty carefully tears the chart out, he realises an hour’s passed without him even realising. 

“That was brills mate, seriously. What about yours?”

Monty’s sparkle fades a little, and Charles feels something bitter inside of him twist at the sight, worried that he’s said something wrong, but then he smiles again. 

“Um, it was actually my birthday a couple of days ago.” He says, and Charles looks up in surprise. 

“Mate, happy birthday! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Montry shrugs, twisting his hands together. “It’s a bit weird to tell strangers that it was my birthday, um, and I’ve never actually really celebrated before… I don’t know, it’s whatever.”

He brushes it off, but Charles’ attention is piqued now, and as they fall into another indulgent conversation about astrology and the stars, it sits in the back of his mind. 

Three hours later, Edwin and the girls walk in to the two boys both lying on the floor, pages of star charts and astrology doodles and books splayed out across the floor around them. Charles is lying on his back, his chest shaking as he laughs and Monty is propped up on his elbows with his face buried in his hands, his giggles muffled by the skin of his palms. It’s such an unexpected sight, the dynamic between them so vastly different from how it had been that morning when they’d been left alone in Niko’s room, and the three seem genuinely taken aback as they stand and stare. 

It’s Charles who notices them, who reaches out and knocks Monty’s forearm as he grins up at them.

“See? Everyone always likes me eventually.”

The topic of birthdays doesn’t come up again that afternoon, but Charles doesn’t forget about it. He’s plotting, and he knows Edwin picks up on it because he cocks an eyebrow at him, and he just grins at him in response.

As Monty gets ready to leave, Charles hugs him, something easy, slinging his arm around him, and Monty goes completely stiff in his embrace before he awkwardly pats him on the back. It’s a little weird, almost as if he’s never actually been hugged before, but Charles chalks it up to him just still being a little unfamiliar with them all. 

The girls busy themselves with looking through their purchases from the day and Edwin corners Charles, evidently not having forgotten.

“You’re planning something.” he says cooly, and Charles laughs, leaning back against the wall. 

“I might be.”

Edwin raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by this answer, and Charles cracks.

“We missed Monty’s birthday, apparently it was like right about when we met him, and I thought that maybe… well, maybe we could get him some presents or something and host him a little birthday party tomorrow? I don’t think he’s ever really had any friends before, and… I don’t know, he seems like he’s lonely.”

There’s a heavy pause between them before Edwin reaches out and smooths Charles’ collar. 

“Charles Rowland, you are truly the kindest person I know.” He says softly, steely grey eyes meeting deep brown. “I think that is an excellent idea. Have you told the girls?”

—

It’s Charles really who does all the work. He pops back to London, searches every crack and crevice of his backpack, and even drags Niko out early in the morning to go and buy a cake from the supermarket which he then very shakily decorates with her help. 

When Monty arrives that afternoon, he’s greeted by the four of them wearing party hats, Niko’s bedroom covered in bunting and streamers and some carefully hand-cut and painted cardboard stars dangling from ribbons from the ceiling. 

“Surprise! Happy birthday, mate.”

Monty just stares at them, his brown eyes wide as he takes all of it in - the decorations, the ridiculous party hats, the small pile of poorly wrapped presents on Niko’s bed, and how happy the four of them are - and for a brief moment it seems as if he’s about to burst into tears, but then he beams. It’s something so bright, so innocent and pure and overwhelmingly gleeful that everything just feels right.

“You guys -”  he whispers, a little awestruck. “You did this… for me?”

Even Edwin’s smiling, and while he’s still clearly a little uncomfortable with it all, he looks more at ease than Charles has seen from him around other people in - well -, forever. 

“Of course. Charles informed us that we missed your birthday and insisted we celebrate.” He says, and Monty turns to him, his cheeks colouring with the faintest dusting of pink as Edwin speaks to him. His gaze flickers to Charles at the mention of his name, but his attention is on Edwin, on the way he’s smiling at him and it’s a fucking wonder that Edwin is still in denial over Monty’s crush on him when he looks at him like that. 

He’s looking at Edwin like he hung the moon (and actually it was Charles who hung up the stars and the moon in Niko’s room thank you very much) and Charles finds that for some reason, he has to look away. It’s odd, because yeah okay, he and Crystal kissed and that was aces, but it never went further than that, and this is nothing more than Monty having an unreciprocated crush on Edwin, but something about it makes him a little bitter and he doesn’t know why. 

Monty’s welcomed in, and he takes his time admiring all of the decorations, his gaze lingering on the stars and the moon above Niko’s bed, before he sees something and he gasps, then turns to Charles and he swears he can still the stars shining in those big brown eyes. 

“You made constellations?” he asks in genuine wonder, and Charles feels the tips of his ears warm up in smug satisfaction (and a touch of humiliation at Monty publicly noticing how much effort he’s put in). 

“Yeah mate, wanted it to feel sort of real, didn’t I? Sorry it’s a bit shit.”

“No! It’s not shit at all, it’s beautiful actually, thank you.”

If anyone notices the way Charles’ cheeks darken a little as he smiles bashfully at the floor, they don’t mention it. 

Niko suggests they play a couple of party games, which they do (although never have I ever seems to be a little awkward given the fact that Crystal cannot remember her wild years with David, Edwin is… well, Edwin, and both he and Charles died too young, and as Monty says, he was never particularly social before his accident, and the car crash and coma scrambled his memories of the past few years a little. It’s only Niko who’s done anything really, and her experiences are rather tame for what the game calls for. 

So they give up on that, and Charles decides instead that Monty ought to open his presents.

“It’s not anything serious mate, I’m sorry, we didn’t have a whole lot of time -” Charles starts, but Edwin interrupts.

“What he is trying to say is that we hope you enjoy them, but you are more than welcome to part with whatever does not catch your fancy.” The look he gives Charles is pointed, but then he smiles at Monty, and Monty giggles. 

“I’ve never actually ha-” he stops himself, the words dying in his throat as he suddenly shakes his head. “Um, I didn’t actually get any presents this year… well - I guess my mom gave me this jumper?” He looks down at the purple sweater he’s wearing, then shrugs. “Sorry -  just ignore me.”

They don’t bring it up, but Edwin and Charles share a look, something brief that somehow covers an entire conversation between them.

“Here, open this first!” Niko passes Monty the smallest present, no bigger than her hand, and delicately wrapped in… the wax paper Jenny sold her meat wrapped in. It’s bound with a piece of her meat string too, and it’s so unique and frankly adorable, that Monty wishes he could have documented it in some way. 

He takes care as he unwraps it, smoothing out the creases in the paper and neatly twisting the twine around his fingers, as he reveals a little cardboard box. He opens it, and inside are a pair of little silver mushroom earrings. 

“A friend gave them to me before I came to Washington, but I don’t really wear them and I thought you might, ‘cause you’ve got your ears pierced!” Niko explains cheerily, and Monty reaches up instinctively, rubbing his earlobe between his forefinger and thumb. She’s right, there are a pair of healed holes, but it seems almost as if he’d forgotten. 

“Thank you Niko.” He murmurs, lifting them up so they catch the light of the afternoon sun. “These are gorgeous.”

She claps her hands together excitedly, clearly thrilled by his response. “Put them on!”

That seems to throw Monty through a loop and he stares at them, then touches his ear again, and he suddenly seems strangely uncertain. “I… um -”

“Would you like some help?”

He nods, cheeks turning pink, but Niko crawls across to him and puts them in for him without batting an eyelid. 

“Thank you, um after the accident, sometimes there’s things that I… I don’t know, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to do things that I ought to know.” He tries to explain, but Niko shakes her head. 

“I get it. Sometimes I forget how to do stuff with my long nails if I only have short ones for a while.” She says breezily, and the topic is dropped. 

The next present Monty opens is a little bigger, this time the package soft and squishy. It’s wrapped in a taped-up paper bag, but his name has been written on the front in big swirling letters. 

He’s less careful opening this one, and the tape sticks to his fingers which makes him grimace, but as he tears the paper, out falls a scarf. It’s bright red, and buttery soft, and he runs it through his fingers immediately.

“That’s from me,” Crystal says, and Monty grins at her. 

“I love it, it’s so soft.” He says appreciatively, “It feels like… um, I’m not even sure, but I love it.”

The next package he opens is rectangular and wrapped in old newspaper with a peice of dark navy ribbon, and it’s obvious that this is from Edwin. 

Monty unwraps it carefully, and his face lights up as he reads the cover of the book contained within. 

“The power of the stars and their role within the Arcane? Edwin, this is -” he’s so overcome that he sets the book down, then surges forwards and wraps him in a hug. It’s a little awkward given the angle, but Edwin pats his back as Monty wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs, and Edwin smiles as he pulls away. 

“You are more than welcome Monty, it’s a book from our office, I’ve never particularly read through it but I believe you will make far greater use of it than we have.”

Again that prickle of something sharp flares up in Charles again, because he took it from the shelves, he chose the wrapping paper, he insisted to Edwin that Monty would like it and they were never going to use it really, so why be discouraged to part with it? 

He squashes it away though, buries it deep, just as he did before, and instead hands Monty the penultimate gift from the pile. 

“ ‘s not the coolest, but I found it at Mick’s and thought.. Well, just open it.”

Monty tears open the paper, and out falls a box. Inside, is a shiny circular crystal, smooth on both sides with little divots. He picks it up, turning it over in his fingers.

“What is it?”

“It’s something called a worry stone,” Charles explains, shifting so he can come and sit at Monty’s side. “It’s got two smoothed edges ‘cause you’re supposed to hold it when you’re anxious or scared or well, whatever really, um - and Mick said it’s charmed to have a protection or confidence spell or something, that when you need it most it’ll help you.” 

Monty turns it over in his hand, before he picks it up between his forefinger and thumb, twisting it around. 

“It’s so pretty,” he whispers, gaze fixed on the crystal, “it feels so nice to hold.” 

Charles grins, reaching out to squeeze Monty’s shoulder, which catches his attention immediately and he looks up, awed. 

“And it’s amethyst ‘cause I looked in one of your books to see what February was for birthstones and it said this one! So I got it.”

Monty’s eyes only seem to get wider, before he throws his arms around Charles’ neck and hugs him. 

“Thank you! I love it, I love it so much.” he kisses Charles’ cheeks as he pulls away, and Charles is very grateful that he’s dead, given the way he knows he’d be flushing almost scarlet if he still had blood to circulate. 

“You - uh - um, you’re welcome,” he stammers, and he’s not entirely sure why he’s so flustered, but something about the hug, the brief press of lips to his cheek which he could feel in a way he’s completely unused to, the closeness of Monty and his big brown eyes and his plush pink lips and - 

Charles might not need to breathe, but he feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him all the same. 

They admire Monty’s presents for a little while longer, before the girls eagerly insist on moving to the cake. It’s just a plain one from the shop with icing on, but Monty lights up all the same as he blows out his candles. It’s only him and the girls who can eat it, but Jenny pops by for a slice, and wishes Monty a happy birthday. 

Without any cake of his own, Charles settles to watch Monty instead, because the way he eats it is almost bird-like, pecking at the crumbs. Just like as it was with the hug yesterday, it seems as if this is a new experience for Monty. 

It doesn’t make sense, not really.

Nothing about him does. 

Chapter Text

The problem with Charles Rowland, is once there’s something on his mind, he can’t really let it go. 

He obsessed. Not in the way Edwin does, when Edwin fixates on something everyone else knows about it, because he physically cannot let anything go unless he understands it, and even then… he’s smart about it. 

Charles just isn’t like that. He’s not smart like Edwin, there’s just no way he could ever be, actually, because Edwin is like a proper genius and he’s just… Charles. When he gets stuck on stuff it’s not because he’s able to understand it or because he’s capable of understanding it, it’s just because… it’s because… well… he doesn’t know. He’s never really understood himself the same way everyone else seems to. Anyone would say he’s got a solid sense of identity, that he knows who he is and he’s so solidly tied into his subcultures and way of life, but the truth is it’s kind of all a farce. Like – its true, in a sense. But beyond that it’s just external. He dresses the way he wants to dress and he listens to the music he loves and he exists as a boy from his time and era but that’s as deep as it goes. 

He’s a mess, and he’s not sure how to fix it. 

What he’s currently doing, what he currently can’t stop doing, is thinking about Monty. 

Something about the birthday party they hosted for him, many somethings about Monty himself, they’re sticking in his mind, have stuck since that day, and he just can’t stop thinking.

The genuine glee that had lit up Monty’s expression when Charles had asked him to explain astrology.

The way they’d ended up talking and laughing like old friends on the floor of Niko’s room.

The way he’d gotten so shy talking about his birthday.

So many, so many little things, circling around and around in his head, over and over again. One of the few downsides of not being able to sleep – and really, it’s only a few Charles doesn’t miss it all that much, sleep was never really something he ever found much solace in, beyond it being a brief escape from the reality of his situation – is the fact that he literally never stops thinking. There’s no way to turn his brain off, no way to do anything other than think. All the time. 

It's been two full days since Monty’s impromptu birthday party, and Charles knows he’s not been subtle. Edwin’s definitely picked up on it, but he’s not mentioned anything which means that maybe he doesn’t know, although Charles isn’t entirely sure that Edwin doesn’t not know, because Edwin seems to always know everything about Charles. Sometimes he’s fairly sure Edwin knows more about him than he does. He knows the depth of Charles’ bitter, miserable past. He checks up on Charles’ parents with him, holds him through the dark days, supports him through the good. He knows Charles intimately, and in some ways it’s terrifying. In other’s it’s amazing. It means they rarely actually have to have any proper conversations, because Edwin seems to always know if something’s bothering him, and he normally knows what it is. 

Well.

With two glaring exceptions.

Crystal and The Cat King. 

Those are two issues they’ve not discussed. Well, they’ve sort of been discussed, but not really, not properly… except really, suddenly Charles doesn’t care about that. 

Not when Monty seems to be the most pressing issue at hand. 

Everyone’s out, again. Or at least, everyone’s not here, again. Frankly, Charles has no idea where the girls are, or why he’s apparently been left out, but he does know that Edwin is out with Monty, and as much as that does not help the turmoil in his brain, he is honestly glad to have some time to himself. He kind of wants to pop back to the office, to sit on their sofa and stare up at the ceiling until everything sort of works itself out in his head, but he knows he can’t. Going back to the office takes him away from Edwin and the girls, and there’s no way he’s willing to do anything that might prevent him from being there if they need him. So he’s splayed out on Crystal’s bed, knuckles pressed into his eyes as he thinks.

And thinks.

And thinks.

Until the other day, Charles would say that he didn’t like Monty, for reasons somehow both ridiculous and also not. Reasons he couldn’t necessarily verbalise in any way that made sense. 

But now he’s not so sure. Monty had been a little cold and prickly at first, not to Niko, not to Crystal, and definitely not to Edwin… but weirdly, bizarrely, to Charles and Charles alone. 

Except now he wasn’t. Had it been purely because they hadn’t got to know each other all that well? Had they just managed to get off on slightly the wrong foot and then Charles had imagined the rest?

Because the thing is, when Charles thinks about Monty, there’s no flash of irritation, no prickle of the hair on the back of his neck. His instinct isn’t the bitter swell of discomfort, no, it’s… something warm, something hesitant and excitable and nice. 

He likes him.

He wants to be friends, actual friends. 

Charles sits up.

That’s what this is. 

That’s all this is.

This weird circulation of his mind. He just wants to be Monty’s friend. He’s not jealous because Monty’s out spending time with Edwin this evening, he’s just jealous because Edwin’s spending time with Monty, because Charles wants to hang out with him too. Because he wants to be friends. 

That’s it.

He feels so much better immediately, like some weight has disappeared off his shoulders. It’s as simple as that, it’s all as simple as that.

Except, there’s a little devious voice that sounds awfully like Crystal, that says that that’s not quite the case, but he pushes it as far away as he can. He’s solved the problem, he understands.

Case closed, and all that. 

He manages to stop thinking about Monty, for a little while, distracting himself for the rest of the evening with Niko’s laptop, scrolling through the various websites and streaming services she’d taught him how to use. The girls return shortly, carrying a plastic bag of Chinese food, and they settle in front of the TV, Niko and Crystal with tupperware containers and wooden chopsticks in their laps, and Charles lounging between them with one of Niko’s soft toys cradled in his arms. It’s nice, a chance to relax and enjoy time with his friends without the weight of figuring out what was going on his head.

That is, until Edwin gets home.

Charles is the one who notices that something’s off, the way Edwin’s twisting his hands just a little too tightly, the crease between his eyebrows that doesn’t instantly smooth when his stormy eyes lock on Charles’ brown. 

He’s quick to push himself up off of the bed, stepping over to Edwin as the girls greet him, a hand settling on his shoulder. 

“You okay, mate?”

“I… um –”

Charles nods, his hand sliding down to Edwin’s elbow as he gently guides the two of them out of Niko’s room and into the hallway, “we’ll be back in a sec.”

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Edwin sighs, dropping his head to Charles’ shoulder as they melt together, arms winding around waists. It’s a beautiful thing, being close enough to feel his best friend, warm and solid and real in a way that nothing else is. Crystal’s lovely and he likes kissing her and touching her and holding her, but it doesn’t feel like anything. It’s never felt like anything, beyond in his head. But Edwin… Edwin… Charles can feel him. He can feel every inch of his skin, the gentle tickle of his breath, the warmth of his hands… it’s perfect. 

Like this, he can feel the tightness in Edwin’s shoulders begin to ease, letting out a breath he’s been holding. 

“Talk to me, mate.”

Edwin withdraws, just a little, just enough to rest his chin on Charles’ shoulder. 

“Monty kissed me.”

Something sharp twists in his chest and Charles pulls away, searching Edwin’s face. 

“He did what?”

Edwin rolls his eyes, and Charles feels the initial flare of anger die down a little, relieved that it doesn’t seem like Edwin’s legitimately upset. 

“It was a misunderstanding, he didn’t – we were talking about… about feelings and relationships and I… I misled him, by accident. He thought I meant that I had feelings for him, and really I’m not even sure that he’s got feelings for me, I think he’s just confused but I–” Edwin shakes his head. “He kissed me, and I froze. I didn’t kiss him back, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

It’s a stupid impulsive thing, one that Charles has legitimately no idea where it comes from, because it’s not like he’s ever thought about it at all until apparently right this second but… but he says it. Because he’s an idiot. 

“You froze? Mate – even I’d have kissed him.”

Edwin’s eyes widen, his fingers tightening instinctively on Charles’ shoulder as he opens his mouth, then shuts it again. 

“What?”

Charles swallows, his mouth suddenly painfully dry for someone who has been dead for thirty something years. 

“I… uh… um.” He blinks at Edwin. “I don’t know what I meant by that.”

Blissfully, blessedly, Edwin doesn’t seem angry or hurt or annoyed by Charles’ stupidity. Instead, he laughs at him. Soft, gentle, affectionate. 

“Oh Charles,” he whispers, and Charles does not like the tone of his voice, because it sounds like he knows something Charles doesn’t, and Charles really doesn’t understand it. 

They head back to the girls a short while later, after Edwin’s told him everything he wants to, and Charles has done his absolute best to be the good, supportive friend he’s supposed to be. By the time they walk in, somehow, as foolish as Charles feels, Edwin appears to have actually calmed down about everything. He’s not upset about the kiss, he’s not upset with Monty, and he’s assured Charles that he’ll talk to him about it. 

Tomorrow though.

For today, they spend the rest of the evening watching Scooby Doo until the girls are half-asleep, takeout abandoned in various states of consumption across the floor. 

“Hey.” Crystal whispers, nudging Charles’ knee with her foot. “We should head to bed.”

Niko makes a sleepy protest, but Crystal’s already pushing herself up off of the bed, swinging her legs round the edge of the mattress. “Goodnight everyone.”

Together she and Charles retreat to her room and briefly Charles thinks that it’ll be a peaceful evening, holding her until she falls asleep, maybe some affectionate kissing.

But no, no today apparently.

The second the door closes, Crystal pushes him up against the door, her hands firm on his shoulders as she stretches up to kiss him.

He melts into it, an arm wrapping around her waist as their lips move in harmony. 

It’s fun, getting to kiss her, getting to escape the world he’s spent the past three decades building to explore something new and exciting, but of course he has to ruin it.

Crystal’s kissing at the corner of his mouth, about to explore the length of his jaw, when he mumbles into her cheek, “what’s it like kissing a boy?”

Crystal stops kissing him.

“Charles… Why are you thinking about kissing boys?” She asks, drawing back away from him. She sounds like she should be angry, but like with Edwin earlier, there’s a hint of something knowing there, something not suspicious but… but… 

He’s not sure.

“I–” he shakes his head, because frankly he’s not sure why he is. “Edwin –”

“ – You want to kiss Edwin?” Again, not suspicious, not angry, not how she ough to sound. 

“No! No, I don’t – I don’t want to kiss Edwin. Or like, I don’t think so – but –”

Crystal presses a finger to his lips, her eyes glittering as she tries to suppress a smile. Charles really, really, doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him. 

“Charles, do you want to kiss Monty?”

Right. 

Yeah.

So that’s the problem. 

Because it’s like the second Edwin mentioned his kiss with Monty, Charles hasn’t been able to stop picturing it. First, Monty kissing Edwin… then, Edwin kissing Monty, and then… Monty kissing Charles. And Charles kissing Monty. 

It’s not like he’s thinking about it because he wants to kiss him, he just can’t stop thinking about it, and for some ridiculous, stupid reason, kissing Crystal doesn’t feel good right now because all his stupid brain won’t stop picturing a boy he barely knows. 

“I don’t… know.” he whispers, voice cracking miserable. “He – he kissed Edwin and he’s – he’s pretty like a girl and I don’t – I can’t –”

He can’t bear to look her in the eyes, staring down at the ground between their feet. He’s expecting rejection, anger, something. 

Not this.

She laughs at him. 

Just like Edwin did earlier. It’s kind, light-hearted, everything except how she should react. 

But she doesn’t stop laughing. 

“Charles.” She gets out between giggles, reaching up to cup his face in her hands.  “Oh baby, if you –  if you really want to kiss Monty, or any boy, then go for it.” 

“What?” He stares at her, the breath he doesn’t need catching in his throat. “Huh?”

She beams, rubbing the pad of her thumb across his cheekbone. “But please, if you’re going to flirt with him – with either of them –” Charles isn’t entirely sure what she means by that, “then you have to let me help.”

Charles takes a deep breath, then frowns, “I’m not bad at flirting!”

He should really have focused on any other part of this bizarre conversation, but for some reason that’s the bit that snaps him back to reality. 

Crystal hums, tilting her head, and Charles groans. “... I am that bad at flirting?”

She nods. “Yeah, but like – in a cute way. It worked cause it was sweet, not because it was any good.”

Charles sighs, “I – I don’t have like feelings for Monty, or anything.” He says softly. 

“Sure.” Crystal raises an eyebrow, and Charles shakes his head.

“No, like I don’t have feelings for anybody–”

“Anybody?”

“No! No, no, not like that. Not that I don’t have feelings for you, but like I don’t –” She’s smiling, he realises, and he sighs again. “You’re teasing me.” 

“I am.”

Charles sighs, slumping back against the door. “Can we bench this ‘til tomorrow?”

Crystal nods, stroking his cheek again, before stretching up and pressing a soft kiss to Charles’ lips. “Of course we can. But just so you know, we will be recruiting Niko.”

They pull away from the door and he sighs, shaking his head. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Anyone else should probably be worried, how much time their not-quite-girlfriend spent with someone like Niko, someone where simple friendship seemed far too… well… simple, to cover the way they looked at each other, and how right they were for each other, but honestly Charles really wasn’t. Crystal had confessed to him pretty early on – before they’d first started… this – that she was bisexual, and honestly? This isn’t anything serious, Charles doesn’t expect it to ever go anywhere serious, and the idea of Crystal getting into a healthy relationship with someone living… It’s exciting. It’s something she ought to pursue, and if she decides she wants to, Charles is in full support. 

He stays with Crystal until she falls asleep, then a little while longer. He doesn’t really want to talk to Edwin, because if he talks to Edwin then he’s going to tell him about this, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of any potential relationship that Edwin might be interested in pursuing but… well.

Thirty years together. 

They spend the night together playing Cluedo, and when the girls wake up in the morning, Charles feels somewhat more normal about everything again.