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Things have been weird ever since Port Townsend.
Maybe weird’s not the right word, really, but different. Everything had been moving at such a breakneck pace during their time there that Charles hadn’t been forced to address the way that things were changing, but now that they’re back in London and things have settled back into some sort of groove, it’s unavoidable.
Their duo has become a trio, for one thing, now that Crystal’s got a flat near their office, a nice little two bedroom with a mirror on the door so the boys can stop by anytime. Even as she’s trying to sort through her new-old memories and who she wants to be next, she seems to be settling in well enough.
Charles likes to think that he plays mediator between her and Edwin, but the fact of the matter is that they don’t exactly need him to.
Crystal and Edwin get along in their own strange way, even when Charles isn’t there to keep an eye on things. The Night Nurse pops into their office when she will, supervising their cases in a way that the Dead Boy Detectives have never needed in the past thirty years. Things have changed, and things have started to settle into a new formation, and it’s aces, it really is, but.
The elephant in the room sits heavy on Charles’ chest every time he interacts with Edwin, and it feels like nobody else even knows it is there.
Edwin’s confession is a physical presence tucked somewhere behind his ribs, a constant reminder that his best friend loves him as more than a friend, and Charles may have bought himself some time with his response on the staircase, but it wasn’t exactly an answer.
The truth is that he loves Edwin back. He loves Edwin like the other half of his heart, like the thunder loves the rain, like a whole bunch of poetic nonsense that he doesn’t have the words for. He loves Edwin in that unspoken way where it’s not even a question of whether or not he would go to Hell for him.
He doesn’t know if that means he loves him romantically. He doesn’t know if he loves Edwin the way he wants to be loved.
Charles knows how flirting works, is the thing. He’d like to think he’s good at it, despite what Crystal might say. He’s got a charming smile, and he knows how to show someone a good time. None of that’s thirty years permanent, though. None of that is devotion wound through every atom of his being. None of that is this aching want that threatens to eat him whole.
Point is, Charles has been a bit off his game.
He gets to his feet abruptly, the old couch in their office creaking as he goes, and Edwin looks up from his seat at the desk. “Are you alright?” he asks, and Charles just flashes him a quick grin, unable to shake the jittering energy dancing under his skin.
“Peachy,” he says, and then jerks a thumb towards the mirror. “Just gonna go for a bit of a walk, yeah?”
“Alright,” Edwin says, and his brows draw together for a moment. “Would you like company?”
Charles shakes his head before the words are even out of his mouth, trying not to look too obviously like he’s grimacing. “Nah, I’m good.” Before he can see the look on Edwin’s face, he falls through the mirror.
He thinks about heading to Crystal’s, but this isn’t exactly something he wants to talk about with her. They’d broken things off easily enough when she’d realized what she really needed was a friend, and Charles would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t been a bit relieved at that. He’d feel weird doing stuff with Crystal while he knew how Edwin felt about him, especially when he didn’t know how he felt about Edwin other than that it was some type of way.
He and Crystal are on good terms, but this exactly doesn’t seem like something her advice would be helpful with.
Charles tumbles through the mirror for a moment longer, thoughts racing, before his consciousness snags and spits him back out.
It takes a moment to get his bearings, but the gray skies and screeching seagulls are familiar enough. For some reason, his brain has decided that the place he wants to be is back in Port Townsend where all of this started.
Charles frowns, but doesn’t exactly have any better ideas on where he should be, and so he lets himself wander.
It’s only been a couple months since they left, and it feels like everything should have changed. Esther tortured Edwin here, killed Niko, blew up a public building, but the streets he walks down are the same as they were before everything. He finds himself drifting towards the water without keeping track of where his feet are taking him, shoes landing hollow against the asphalt of the road.
Charles loves Edwin with everything he is. Edwin loves Charles as more than a friend. Charles has been chasing his tail on this for months and getting nowhere.
Then, a familiar voice curls around him, polished as steel and twice as sharp, and Charles realizes where his feet have taken him.
“Look what the cat dragged in.”
Charles feels his hackles raise as he turns, looking at the figure draped across the door to the cannery. The Cat King is still wearing sunglasses despite the cloudy weather, and as Charles glares at him, he pushes off the doorframe to stand upright.
“What do you want?” Charles’s voice is sharp, and he knows he has already shown too much of his hand, but everything about this guy sets him on edge.
The Cat King raises his hands in mock surrender, eyebrows raising up above his shades. “Woah there, tiger. You’re the one who came to my doorstep, desperate for help. I should be the one asking you what you want.” He’s wearing a smirk that Charles just wants to knock off his face. “Except I’ve got a hunch that I already know.”
“I’m not desperate.” Charles shoves his hands in his coat pockets, glancing away, knowing it isn’t exactly the comeback he wishes it was. “Definitely not for you.”
“Very convincing,” the Cat King says, offering a dramatic golf clap. “I’d almost buy it, too, if it weren’t for the fact that you were here, instead of crying to any of your surely plentiful friends.”
“I’m not crying,” Charles says, but he knows he sounds too defensive. “Besides, it’s-”
“God, I do not want to do this back and forth with you all day.” The Cat King waves his hand, rolls his eyes. “This is what I get for doing pro bono work.”
Charles frowns. “I don’t know what you’re-” he groans, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No, you came here for a reason. Now tell daddy Cat King all your troubles.”
Charles goes reaching for his cricket bat on instinct.
“Ooh, sore subject?” Charles is sure his face is doing something way too vulnerable, and he turns on a heel and starts walking away from the cannery. There’s a lick of purple flame, and the Cat King is standing before him again, close enough that Charles almost knocks into him before he can catch himself. “Look, I helped your friend with his whole repression deal. I can crack yours too.”
Charles grits his teeth. “You trapped him here.”
“Can’t say I didn’t get results.”
“He got dragged back to Hell!”
The Cat King grimaces. “I will admit, that was…” His mouth twists and he rolls his neck with a crack, looking to the side. “I do regret that bit.”
Charles just glares at him. He doesn’t know why he ended up here, and he really doesn’t know why he hasn’t left already.
“I know that I come on a bit strong,” the Cat King says, and he’s fluid as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Isn’t that a part of the appeal, though? So much, so fast, so hard, all so that you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about anything?” He lifts a clawed finger to touch Charles’s face, pausing a breath away from his skin as he flinches. “I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t want you,” Charles bites out, and the Cat King smirks.
“Well, that’s all you had to say.” The Cat King pulls back, and Charles exhales shakily. He can never find his footing around this damn cat, the ground turning to sand under his feet every time they talk. “I know who you do want,” the Cat King purrs, and then purple fire surrounds his form.
When it vanishes, Edwin is standing in his place.
Charles does pull out his cricket bat this time. “Turn back.”
“Oh, but isn’t this what you want?”
“No, it’s-”
“Don’t you want to know how you feel about him? It’s been weighing so heavily on you,” the Cat King pouts, the expression utterly foreign on Edwin’s face, and Charles’s grip tightens on his bat. “Oh, do I love him? Oh, is he just a really special friend? Oh, how about I just tie myself up in knots because that will definitely make things better for everyone around me-”
“Shut up,” Charles says through grit teeth, and his knuckles go white with how tight he is holding his bat, but he doesn’t have anything to hit with it. As pissed as he is at the Cat King—and at himself—he can’t swing at someone who looks like Edwin.
“Or what, will you make me?” The Cat King flutters Edwin’s eyelashes, and Charles hates himself for the image that conjures up. “Oh, big bad Charles, don’t you just want to protect me?” He drops to Edwin’s knees, golden eyes looking up at him with flushed cheeks. “Don’t you want him like this, so good for you?”
“I-”
“Or-” Edwin’s body turns into smoke and there is a presence behind Charles, warmth pressing against his back. “Maybe you want to be good for him, is that it?”
Charles shudders. He knows this isn’t Edwin, but it’s Edwin’s voice at his ear, Edwin’s hand creeping up his chest to press against his sternum, and his face goes hot at the suggestion of his Edwin holding him like this.
There is the brush of lips—Edwin’s lips—at his ear, and Charles tears himself out of the hold. “I don’t-” He shakes his head, jerky, hard enough that his earring goes rattling against his jaw. “I don’t care about any of that.”
Edwin’s mouth smirks at him. “You can’t lie to me, sweetheart.”
“I’m not lying!”
Edwin’s head tilts, cat eyes flickering down and up Charles’s form. “Maybe what you want-”
“I just want him!” As soon as the words are out of him, Charles’s mouth closes with a snap, but the damage is already done. He’s been looking at this from every angle, grappling with this ever since Edwin confessed to him, but he can’t hide from the truth any more.
Edwin’s form shimmers, and the Cat King is standing before him once more. “And there we have it,” he says. “And quite neatly done on my end, if I do say so myself. Didn’t even have to bust out any truth enchantments-”
“What is your fucking problem?” Charles feels mortification boiling inside of him, the awful feeling of being mocked and played with anchoring him in place. “Do you get your kicks just- just toying with people?
The Cat King tilts his head with a smirk. “You just make it too easy.” Charles’s shoulders draw up and his jaw tightens, and the Cat King sighs. “Look, I’m just here to make you realize all those secret little unrealized desires of yours. And, unlike with your cute friend, I don’t care enough to take my sweet time with it. Consider this the budget version.”
Charles wants to be angry, but all he’s really feeling is scared. Wanting, really wanting, is always dangerous, because it just means you have something to lose. Back when he was alive, he’d liked his cassette tapes, he’d liked his friends, he’d liked his mum’s cooking, but that just meant it was something that could be taken away to hurt him.
Charles wants Edwin, so desperately that it feels like a sinkhole’s opened up in his chest, and he can’t shake the fear that it’s just going to lead to ruin.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, jaw tight, neither of them saying anything. The Cat King looks as sympathetic as he ever looks, gold eyes hidden back behind his sunglasses but unerringly pinned on Charles.
“Fine. You made me say it. Happy now?” Charles shoves his cricket bat back in his coat pocket. “What do you want from me?”
The Cat King groans, gives another dramatic eye roll, but he steps closer. “Look. You know he wants you, you know you want him. Do something about it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“God, it never is with you people.” The Cat King’s eyes flicker over Charles’s shoulder, and then he smiles, sharp and unsettling. “I’d say just tell him what you told me, but I think we might be a bit past that at this point.”
Charles’s brow furrows with confusion, and then cold terror bleeds through him as he turns to look behind him.
Edwin stands a bit down the dock, fists pressed together, gold light wrapped around his legs to keep him in place. His mouth is doing something strange, and mortification wraps its sticky fingers around Charles’s throat.
Charles wheels back around on the Cat King. “What did you-”
The Cat King is already strolling back into the cannery. “This one’s on the house,” he calls, giving a little wave of his fingers. “Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he says, a bit lower, and then the doors are sliding shut behind him with a slam.
Charles goes to race after him, because he fucking tied Edwin up, he had no right, but then Edwin’s voice rings out behind him and that instantly, always, takes priority. “Charles?” Edwin calls out, and there’s a naked vulnerability in his tone that has Charles turned around and headed right towards him before he can even think about it.
There is a tightness to his features, knuckles pressed against each other, and Charles wants to ask how much of that he heard but there are more pressing concerns. “Are you okay?”
Edwin’s cheeks have a pink tint to them, and if they were alive, Charles would blame it on the cold. “I should be asking you that.”
“I’m not the one tied up,” Charles says, casting a dirty look behind him at the cannery, before Edwin takes a step forward and he realizes the golden light has vanished.
“I am not harmed.” Edwin’s hands do a weird little flutter, almost like he wants to reach out before he holds himself back. “Nor was I the Cat King’s plaything,” he says, glancing at Charles before his gaze flickers away.
“How much of that-” Charles exhales, tries to figure out a way to say this that doesn’t leave him flayed open and vulnerable, but nothing exactly comes to mind. Looks like the only way out is through. “How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough,” Edwin says, and his knuckles are pressing together again. “Perhaps more than you would have liked?”
“What do you mean?”
Edwin goes tense. “Is there not a reason that you had not told me this before?” He exhales, puts down his hands, makes a practiced face. “I apologize that I heard it before you wanted me to know.”
“It’s not like that-” Charles says, but doesn’t have anything to say after, because it kind of is like that. He’s still sorting through all this, and it’s always been easier to squirrel emotions away rather than face them or, god forbid, share them. There is a moment of quiet, broken by a metallic clatter as a cat leaps up onto the cannery roof.
Charles glares up at it, and he’s pretty sure the cat makes a face back down at him. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”
Edwin glances up to the roof, and then back down to the door the Cat King had left through. There is still something unsaid in his expression, but he nods. “Let’s.”
Charles should be relieved. They both know how he feels now, kind of. Somewhat. Charles is still sorting through all of this, and Edwin only really overheard some half-confession, so maybe that explains why Charles is less relieved and more walking to the firing squad.
Not that Edwin’s the firing squad, of course. More like Charles and his own inability to handle any emotion more complex than a cricket ball.
They’re back in the office. Edwin goes to sit behind the desk and Charles grabs his wrist on instinct, tries not to regret how forward it feels. “You don’t have to be all the way over there.”
Edwin looks down at where Charles’s hand touches him, and something flickers across his face as Charles lets go. “I had thought that you would want some space.”
“No, I don’t-” Charles tries to laugh. “I’m really feeling like I’ve fucked everything up here and I’m- wanna sit on the couch?”
“You have done nothing wrong,” Edwin says, and he frowns when Charles makes a face at that. He moves over to the couch, sitting stiffly, and Charles drops down next to him, leaving just enough space so they aren’t touching. Sixteen years of life and almost thirty-five of death, you’d think that he would have control over his body, but he is all too aware of his limbs and joints and all the space they take up.
Edwin is quiet for a moment, and Charles feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. “I’m sorry that’s how it happened,” Charles says, before clearing his throat in a failed attempt to escape the tightness wrapping around it.
“You did not do anything wrong.”
Charles grimaces. “When I see that that stupid whiskery face again-”
“Why is it that you were able to tell him that and not me?” Edwin’s voice isn’t accusatory, and that almost makes it worse. “If I may ask.”
Charles picks at the lining of his coat, suddenly desperate for anywhere to look that isn’t at his friend. “It’s not like I’ve been hiding it on purpose or anything,” he starts, before his mouth twists. “Besides, it’s not like I planned on telling him. It just sort of came out.”
Edwin nods, and there is another moment of quiet before he continues. “If I had not been there, would you have ever told me?”
“Of course! It’s just…” Charles’s mouth twists. He’s been holding onto all this because he doesn’t have the words for it, but now he doesn’t exactly have a choice to wait until he finds them. “Wasn’t planning on telling him either, now was I.”
“I do not mean to upset you.” Edwin is overly gentle as he handles all of this, rote like he’s reading the words out of a manual, and Charles’s fingers twist in the fabric of his coat.
“‘M not upset, not at you.”
“Why was- hmm.” Edwin pauses, and Charles glances over at him. “Why was this what it took to make you realize your feelings?”
Charles can’t take the fragile look on Edwin’s face. “I was pretty sure, but I wasn’t sure I was sure-”
“When have you ever given this much thought to any of your decisions,” Edwin says, almost without thought. Charles is pretty sure he doesn’t mean it to come out as cutting as it does.
“I do when they’re important. Couldn’t exactly trust myself with this one, could I, not when it’s so important. Usually when I make mistakes it’s fine, you’re there to help, but I couldn’t- if I messed this one up, I couldn’t leave you to pick up the pieces.”
“And so instead-” Edwin stops himself. “I apologize.”
“You don’t have anything you need to apologize for-”
“I have been putting pressure on you, and that is not fair.”
“You don’t- look, why are we doing this?”
Edwin looks nervous at that, almost afraid. “What do you mean?”
“We’re friends, yeah?”
“Of course.” Despite the strangeness of the day, he answers without hesitation, and Charles feels some tension unspool within his chest. No matter what else is going on, that will never be in question.
“What are we being so awkward for?”
Edwin’s brows furrow. “You were tricked into confessing some degree of feelings towards me without knowing that I was there to hear it.”
“Well, yeah, but-”
“I have been doing my best to follow your lead,” Edwin says. “You seemed less than pleased, and so I did not wish to overstep.”
Charles groans, runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how you did it.” Edwin looks confused, and he scrambles to clarify. “We were literally climbing out of Hell, chased by a horrifying monstrosity, and you just said it like it was nothing.”
“It was not nothing, ” Edwin says, and Charles could kick himself for the hurt in his voice.
“No, that’s not- I’m not the words guy. You’d just been through Hell and back, and you were still able to tell me that…” Charles’s words get stuck in his throat.
“That I love you.” Charles nods, even as he can’t quite look at Edwin. “I knew that it was true, and I did not want to spend a second longer without you knowing. Your reciprocation was not the goal, although-” He cuts himself off, redirects. “I needed you to know that it was true.”
Charles fiddles with his hands. “How were you sure?”
“You are my best friend. There is no one in this world or any other that I would want to spend eternity with.”
“I-” Charles has to swallow around the swell of emotions. “You’re my best mate too, you know that, right?”
“I do,” Edwin says, and there is no doubt in Charles’s mind that he believes it.
“How’d you know it was- well, the real deal, not just friendship?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Charles sees Edwin go pink as he fiddles with his cuffs. “If you must know, it was during the Case of the Lighthouse Leapers. You were speaking to Crystal about something, although I cannot recall what, and as I was looking at you, it suddenly came upon me that I would quite like to kiss you. A good deal of things clicked into place at that moment, although it did take me some time to properly understand them. I was-” Edwin stops himself. “I apologize. I do not wish to put pressure on you, I just wanted to explain.”
“There’s nothing you’ve gotta apologize for,” Charles says. “I asked the question, yeah?” Edwin nods, and Charles leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I do think about it sometimes.” His voice is quiet, and he looks at Edwin. “What it would be like to kiss you.”
Edwin’s eyes widen, and Charles grimaces at the mess he’s making of this. “I mean, kissing is nice, yeah? And you’re my best mate, and you’re nice to look at, and-” he cuts himself off, forces out a breath. “I just keep thinking about how it could go wrong. I like to think I can roll with the punches, nothing’s so bad I can’t come back from it, but I think if this- if we fell apart, I don’t know how well I could come back from that.”
“I know that this may make me a hypocrite, but you could have told me.”
“What, that you’re my best mate, and I love you, and I think about kissing you sometimes, but I don’t know if that’s because I want to or because I know you want to and I want to make you happy?”
Edwin is quiet, and Charles chews on the inside of his cheek. Words come spilling out of him to fill the silence. “I didn’t know where the line was between wanting what you want because I want you to be happy, and wanting it myself.” Charles’s voice is quiet as he says it, and he feels shame creeping up his neck even as he tries to hide it with a laugh. “I always want what you want, we’re best mates, but if I just did this for you and then it turned out I couldn’t keep it up, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for it, you know?”
“I do not want to be pitied,” Edwin says, tense, and Charles grimaces again. None of his words are coming out right.
“It’s not a pity thing.” Edwin gives him a look, and Charles keeps barrelling on. “We both know I’m not the words guy, but…it’s like, you say jump, I’m jumping, I don’t even stop to ask ‘how high,’ yeah?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Edwin’s voice has quieted as well, and Charles feels like he could drown in the silence of the office.
“I can’t separate out me wanting you from you wanting me,” Charles says. “Or- well, I didn’t think that I could. Then the Cat King put on your face, did all that, and it made it pretty fucking clear that all I really wanted here is you. Not somebody who looks like you, but you, with your clever brain, and all your bravery, and that little dimple that only shows up when you really mean it.”
Edwin swallows. “And you are.” He pauses, seems to steel himself. “Sure?”
“About as sure as I can be,” Charles says. “And I’d rather try and see how it goes than just keep chasing myself in circles trying to sort it out, because I could probably do that until I die again without getting anywhere, and neither of us deserve that.” Edwin is quiet, goes to speak before shutting his mouth. “We don’t have to,” Charles says, all in a rush. “I get it if that’s not a good enough guarantee for you, I wouldn’t blame you, but-”
“It’s not that.” Edwin looks at Charles, really looks at him, and Charles feels his breath catch in his throat. “Are you sure that this is something that you actually want, and not something that you are compelled to do out of pity?”
“I’m sure,” Charles says, and can’t hide a laugh. “It’s- I definitely don’t want to kiss you out of pity.”
Edwin gets a look in his eye, the sort of glint that lets Charles know he’s about to crack the case wide open. “Would you like to make good on that, then?”
Charles just blinks, wide eyed. “I- what?”
“You said that you would like to kiss me,” Edwin says, and one hand is plucking at his sleeve but his chin is raised and brave and Charles has never wanted to kiss him more. “I would like that as well.”
“Right now?”
“Well, unless you had a better idea-”
“No, I’m-” The rest of Charles’s words are lost as he leans forward and presses a kiss against Edwin’s lips, soft and warm. His eyes are open because he forgot to do something about that somewhere along the way and so he sees Edwin go pink, ses his eyes flutter shut as he leans into the kiss.
Charles lets his eyes fall shut as well as he tilts his head, brings a hand up to cradle Edwin’s cheek. It feels like the first full breath in weeks. It feels like a hearth fire kindling inside his chest. It feels like coming home.
They separate after a moment, long and lingering. “Definitely not a pity thing,” Charles says, and his laugh borders on awestruck.
“I would certainly hope so,” Edwin says, and pulls him in for another kiss.
The second kiss is just as good as the first.