Chapter Text
“What’s this bloke’s name again?” Charles asks.
“Valentine,” Edwin answers.
There’s a snort. “That’s a bit on the nose, innit?”
Charles’ footsteps sound loud in the quiet night, only a few dim streetlights illuminating his face enough that Edwin can see him crinkle his nose.
“I suppose if I were to be a wizard called Valentine, I’d specialize in love-magic as well.” Edwin turns to his best friend. “Are we clear on the plan, or do we need to go over it again?”
“Does it matter what my answer is?” Charles asks dryly, and Edwin decides that it doesn’t, because he’s going to go over the plan again, anyway.
Charles can hardly blame him for being a little on edge, after everything in Port Townsend.
The case, that they’ve dubbed “The Case of The Deadly Love Potions” - but it is still a working title, at the moment - came to them a few days ago in the form of a disgruntled witch. She told them of a wizard called Valentine selling faulty love potions, causing the person taking it to become so infatuated with the intended object of desires that they forget to eat, drink, and subsequently perish.
The witch wanted to pay them to get rid of a certain enchanted amulet, which gave Valentine his magical powers to begin with.
“Doesn’t it go against some kinda witch-code, to rat out your colleague?” Charles had asked.
“It goes against witch-code to murder all of my clients, too,” the witch had retorted, and that seemed like a fair enough observation, so they had taken the case.
It’s not the fact that they are once again dealing with witches and wizards, however, that has Edwin feeling so anxious.
“We tell him we are a couple, and we are looking for a potion to keep our spark alive,” Edwin says, more to himself than to Charles. “When he is busy with our custom, you distract him, I find the amulet and destroy it.”
The couple ruse is a necessary, though quite haunting task. Necessary, because according to their client, Valentine only does business with couples. Apparently, they will not even be let into the office if they do not pretend to be together.
Haunting, because it gives Edwin a tiny preview into a life he wants desperately, but could never have, and has been trying his level best to forget about.
When the witch had told them about this particular rule, Edwin had even offered Charles an out.
“You could take Crystal, if you wanted.”
“Now why would I wanna do that?” Charles had asked incredulously, and that was the end of that.
Not only because Edwin really didn’t want to remind his best friend of why he might be uncomfortable with Edwin in a romantic frame like that. But also because the thought of splitting up, of Charles going on a case without him, made his chest feel tight in a way that made it hard to remember he didn’t actually need to breathe.
“Right,” Charles nods now, “and if distracting him doesn’t work, I’ll fight him.”
An anguished sigh escapes Edwin’s mouth. If it were up to him, Charles has done enough fighting in the past months. The boy saved Edwin’s afterlife with the Night Nurse, had gone to Hell only to find him, and defeated a giant snake while Edwin was being tortured on a table, screaming his lungs out.
Charles has taken it all in stride, but it seems the happenings left Edwin with frayed nerves.
“Fighting him is our last resort,” he says therefor, trying to sound strict.
Charles’ easily agreed “sure, mate” does nothing to help him relax, because unfortunately he's a master of recognition when it comes to Charles' tones of voice, and this tone is meant only to pacify him.
They reach the address that was given to them when they made the appointment with Valentine. The building is unassuming, similar to any other house in the street, and the big dark blue door is closed.
“Ready?” Edwin asks, despising the way his voice seems to tremble slightly. If he didn’t know Charles, he’d hope it would go unnoticed.
But he does know Charles. And Charles never really misses anything, when it comes to Edwin.
“Ready, mate.” Charles’ smile is blinding when he reaches out and grabs Edwin’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together like it is something they do daily.
Their hands fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.
Edwin tries to still his shaking hand when he knocks on the door.
“Oi, both of you,” a voice says, and they both startle and turn, although their hands remain tightly clasped together. Behind them sits a small tabby cat. “You’re here to see Valentine?”
It is Edwin, who recovers first.
“Yes, we have an appointment. We are looking for… an item.” He narrows his eyes. “What is it to you, cat?”
“I am not just any cat,” the cat says, managing to sound indignant. “I am Valentine’s cat, and I am here to let you know that you can’t just waltz into this place like any other.”
Charles takes a step forward, now. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“As you know,” the cat speaks, “Valentine only works for people who love truly. He is a love wizard, and he does not take that word lightly. So, in order for the door to open, you have to prove that you love each other.”
Edwin’s non-beating heart sinks to his stomach. Of course, there is a test. He should know no wizard would be careless.
Of course, his love for Charles is not be a forgery. But if the door requires both people to love each other, well…
He can only hope that platonic love will be enough.
“And how are we supposed to do that?” Charles asks, next to him. Edwin swears the cat seems to jut out its chin.
“Easy,” it says. “The door is enchanted. All you need to do is kiss, and then if there’s true love in the kiss, it will open.”
It is only the shock that stops Edwin from gasping out loud. He feels Charles’ hand tighten around his, and looks up to find his partner already looking at him.
After living in each other’s pockets for 35 years, they do not really need words to communicate, anymore. Crystal is always making fun of them for being codependent. But in this particular instance, Edwin wishes they could discuss it.
Cases are important, especially when there’s actual lives at stake. But asking Charles to kiss him, when he is aware of Edwin’s affections... When he is already being so kind to maintain a normal friendship between them despite not being able to return those affections…
It is cruel is a whole new way, and Edwin would never ask it of him.
Charles’ smile is soft and reassuring, however.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he says.
And Edwin should protest; after all, even if they kiss, the door will most likely remain closed, because there’s love there but it’s no romantic love, not from Charles.
The enchantment will likely see straight through them.
But Charles is standing so close to him that Edwin is certain he can feel warmth, radiating off his skin. His dark brown eyes are shining in the dim light of the street lantern, almost like there are a thousand little fireflies dancing in his irises.
It reminds him of the night they met. The soft orange glow of their lantern, Charles shivering with a frigid cold that would eventually take over his body, his eyes still bright and golden, focused on Edwin as he spoke.
No one had ever looked at Edwin like that before. Like what he was saying was important. Like they wanted to hear him speak. Wanted him to be there and stay.
He remembers, suddenly and sharply, that Charles had asked about kissing, then. Said that he’d miss it, if he died.
Edwin knows Charles has kissed people, in the 35 years he’s been avoiding his afterlife. Not often, but every now and then, girls like Crystal with soft lips and pointed smiles and smart jokes. Girls who resemble Edwin in nothing at all.
But if Charles really does like kissing so much, maybe it will not be such a heartache, to do it this once, even if it does have to be with Edwin?
If he had more time, maybe Edwin would admit to himself that it is only wishful thinking, that is allowing him to talk that way. But as it is, they have an amulet to destroy, and a wizard to defeat, and Edwin has many things but time is definitely not one of them. So when Charles slowly leans in, he just keeps staring into the warm brown of his eyes and waits.
Charles’ lips are soft and warm, as they gently press against Edwin’s. It’s only a featherlight touch, but a faint gasp escapes Edwin’s lips anyway, as his entire body lights up with warmth.
The hand that is not clutching Edwin’s, Charles brings up to cup his cheek, fingers putting pressure on his jaw until Edwin allows his head to fall sideways.
It’s like that was the sign Charles was waiting for: the press of his lips becomes firmer, and then they part, gently coaxing open Edwin’s mouth.
On its own accord, his free hand reaches out to grasp at the lapel of Charles’ coat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Edwin’s mind is telling him that he should probably step back, that surely this is enough to see if the door will open - but the other part of his mind is filled with lavender haze and flying sparks.
Then Charles’ tongue lazily licks at his bottom lip and thinking is really no longer an option, anyway. Edwin’s knees nearly buckle, causing him to stumble forward, his body colliding with Charles’.
Then the cat speaks. “It’s been open for a while, you know.”
They jump apart as if doused in acid, their hands torn loose. Edwin immediately busies himself with dusting off his coat - even though he knows logically there cannot be any dust on it, considering it’s not an actual object.
When he looks up, Charles is grinning at him like he’s heard a marvelous joke.
“Look at that,” he says excitedly, “guess I really love you, huh?”
And Edwin knows that, is the thing; there is very little in the world that he knows with more certainty than that. The grass is green, the sky is blue, Hell is filled with giggling dolls and Charles Rowland loves him wholeheartedly.
It is enough. It has always been enough, and it always will be enough.
So why does he feel a tremble of disappointment course through his body, knowing that word will always have a different meaning to him?
“Seemingly,” he manages to say. “Let’s go in, then. After you, Charles.”
—
The case is easy enough, after that.
Valentine is an older, smaller man, and no powerful wizard. The amulet gives him enough power to do some magic, but Edwin is not surprised most of the potions were faulty.
For once, everything goes according to plan, and Edwin finds the amulet while Charles is distracting Valentine by being his chatty, charming self. When Valentine realizes Edwin is muttering a spell to destroy the amulet, it is already too late, and the amulet disappears in a flicker of flames.
Valentine does chase them after that, but without the amulet he has barely any powers at all, and they escape easily.
It is not until they are two blocks away that Edwin realizes he is clutching Charles’ hand again, and it takes every bit of will power he can muster to drop it. It takes even more to ignore the look Charles sends him, when he does.
They find a mirror in the lobby of a hotel, and Edwin is glad for it. He feels raw with the emotion of the evening, and he can still feel the ghost of Charles’ lips pressed against his.
Edwin steps through the mirror first, clicks on the desk lamp so the darkness of the room is banished by a soft yellow glow. Determined to go back to normal, to forget everything that happened and move on, he starts rummaging through some books that are on the edge of the desk.
“That amulet was interesting, I think it…”
The sentence dies on his lips when suddenly, Charles’ hands are on his coat, twisting his body as to face him and shoving him back against the desk in the process.
A surprised gust of air escapes Edwin’s lips and then Charles is kissing him. Hard.
Edwin freezes. For a solid ten seconds, he does not move at all; Charles’ mouth softens against his, his fingers uncurling from the coat and coming to rest on Edwin’s chest.
Then, as if by magic, Edwin’s body relaxes against Charles’ touch. His mind goes blissfully quiet, and all he is aware of is Charles’s hands warm on his chest, his lips soft against his mouth, his body sturdy against his own.
He kisses back. He’s not kissed anyone, before Charles; he would hardly count the peck he received from Monty, and there was no one when he was alive. But somehow, Edwin’s body knows what to do anyway.
His hands come to rest on Charles’ waist, the fabric of his coat rough underneath his fingers. His mouth opens and the kiss turns more desperate, teeth clacking as Edwin pushes himself closer still, clumsy but passionate.
Charles releases a soft, frantic breath into the kiss, and then he pulls way just enough for his sigh to brush against Edwin’s cheek.
And that’s when everything comes crashing down.
Ever since he was little, Edwin has had trouble categorizing his thoughts. When something happens that doesn’t fit in his usual patterns, it’s like his brain gets wired wrongly, and there’s sparks of electricity malfunctioning.
He feels it coming now, that misty cloud clawing at his thoughts. His hands are shaking slightly, and he has to lean out of Charles’ space.
This was not meant to happen.
He knows Charles loves him, but he knows it’s not like this. He can still see the empathic look on his best friend’s face, staring down at him on the stairs to Hell.
I can’t say I’m in love with you back.
Edwin knows very little of being in love, but he knows friends do not kiss each other like this.
He cannot blame Charles for it, not at all; Charles craves touch above all else, it is his most important source of comfort. And Edwin has been trying to gift him that: a bump against his shoulder, a hand on his arm, legs flung up into his lap, two arms wrapped around his body.
Touch doesn’t come naturally to Edwin. 70 years of Hell hadn’t helped, but it was more than that. He cannot remember the feel of his mother’s skin; she only ever touched him with a gloved hand.
But he’d learned to accept it, find comfort in it, initiate it, even. He’d learned for Charles. And he’d give him everything…
Except this. This was something he could not allow himself to give to Charles, no matter how much Charles missed kissing - and Edwin was sure he did.
Because when it came down to it…
It was the age old question: would it be better to have Charles like this - in a non equilibrium, friend versus lover, love versus love, - or not at all?
If Edwin was stronger, maybe he could give this to his best friend: the solace of a physical touch he can actually feel, the warmth of a kiss filled with love even if it cannot be returned in the exact same fashion.
And he is strong. Strong enough to survive Hell for 70 years, strong enough that he could survive it another 70 years if it was necessary for Charles’ happiness.
But this? This is something he’s not strong enough for. Just the one kiss has him reeling, feeling unmoored like a ship sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
And he is sure Charles does not mean for it to feel that way, but he can almost feel his heart cracking, because this is everything he has wanted and everything he would dream of if he was granted the luxury of sleep.
But it is nothing like it, because it is not real to Charles like it is to Edwin, and that turns it into a nightmare he cannot endure.
“No,” he manages to say, and his voice sounds like his heart is breaking because it is. “Stop, Charles.”
Charles reels back like he has been stung, his eyes wide and worried. “What is… Edwin?”
It is not a question but it is, and Edwin knows it because they do not need to speak to understand each other. He hopes, then, that Charles will understand him, too.
“I can’t,” he whispers. There’s a lump in his throat and his vision is blurry; his hands are shaking so much he has to curl them into fists. “I’m sorry.”
And then he steps back and throws himself into the mirror, not really caring what will be waiting for him on the other side.