Work Text:
Lights are still on in the top office as you drive by Lonnit Entertainment. It isn't difficult to identify the room as Charlie's office. With a sigh, you make a quick detour, pulling into the parking lot and testing the front entrance. It's unlocked, luckily, since Charlie hasn't left the building yet. You go inside, your shoes clacking and echoing in the silent stairwell as you ascend to the top floor. Exiting the stairway, you make your way down the hall. Not wanting to startle Charlie, you knock softly on the doorframe before slipping through the cracked door.
He's bent over his desk like a madman, glasses askew, papers littered about the place. Scripts with red pen marked all over them, contracts from your company depicting the details from the new sponsoring arrangement. Charlie is utterly drowning in paperwork. His head snaps up when you enter, the wild look in his eyes replaced by relief.
"Evening," he mutters, roughly scribbling signature after signature on the thick booklet of documents, covered with fine print. It had been exciting when your company confirmed that they would be the main patron and sponsor of Lonnit Entertainment, effectively pulling Architects of Murder and the crew that creates it out of near bankruptcy, but there was so many legal connotations and requirements and new regulations that Charlie is struggling to keep up with it all. Especially with Christmas right around the corner, and a tight deadline for Architects of Murder to drop a seasonal episode on Janie Lou Gibbs, a serial killer from the 1960s who's murder weapon of choice was poison. She was coincidentally born on Christmas day, which explains why she was going to be featured. Charlie has been working his ass off to get everything finished in time for the New Year.
You sigh, settling on the edge of his desk and gently tugging the papers from his hands. He doesn't put up much of a fight, but he looks confused as you set them aside. "It's really late," you remind him, gesturing vaguely at the inly black sky outside the window, illuminated by starlight and city lights alike. He sighs, sitting back in his chair and scrubbing a hand down his face.
"These bloody legal wankers won't get off my arse," he groans, slumping against the back of his desk chair. It creaks ominously, and he rolls his eyes, polishing his glasses before replacing them. You offer an apologetic smile and motion towards the door with your head.
"C'mon. I'll walk you to your car," you offer, and he lets out a long, exasperated exhale.
"I took the bus here," he mumbles, gripping the arm of his chair to aid him in standing. Charlie snatches his coat off the rack on the back of the door and you step out of the way, waiting for him to put his trademark cap on before responding.
"I'll drive you," you murmur softly, watching the surprise cross his face. "Just remind me where you live, again?" Charlie quickly shakes his head as he follows you downstairs, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"No, you don't have to-" he protests, but you cut him off.
"I want to," you say sharply, and he falls silent, a grateful smile gracing his lips, reminding you once again that you find him far too attractive for an older man. Fuck. You wait patiently with your coat snug around you, guarding against the cold as he locks up. Charlie trails after you to your car, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly as you unlock your vehicle. You open the passenger door for him with a shit-eating grin, and he rolls his eyes, chuckling as he slides in. Hurrying around the front, you hop into the driver's side, starting the car.
"Right, where do you live?" you ask again, pulling out of the parking lot. Charlie describes the route to you, and you follow his instructions diligently, the city lights blinding in the dusky night. "What are your Christmas plans?" you finally ask, breaking the comfortable silence. He glances over, a sheepish smile on his face.
"Ah, um... I'm not doing anything special. Lots of work to do, you know? Probably just pour a nice generous glass of scotch on Christmas Eve, have a smoke and some quiet time," he admits. You frown. Now that won't do at all.
"Wait, you're not going home for Christmas?" you question, curious. He doesn't have any family back in the UK he'd want to see? Charlie shakes his head, shrugging. You can feel him watching you, and it's making it difficult to focus on driving.
"Nah. My mum and pops are in the care home, and it's so busy 'round Christmastime that I don't bother visiting until the New Year," he explains, a tinge of wistfulness in his voice that makes your heart clench.
"What about the crew?" you persist, not wanting to see him in solitude on one of the most special nights to be with family, friends and fans. "I know that Jamie likes to host holiday parties sometime around now...?" Charlie just shakes his head again, a flicker of real sadness in his eyes.
"I'm just too bloody busy. Besides, the crew will have more fun without me," he says weakly, and you can see how he longs to be closer to them, struggling between control and connection. You sigh, turning a corner to head towards his condominium. It makes you so unbearably miserable, to imagine him all by himself on Christmas.
"Come to my place," you blurt, feeling the blush in your cheeks before the words are even out. Charlie stays speechless for a moment, but a quick flick of your eyes over to him confirms that he's red as a Christmas bauble.
"I-I couldn't," he objects weakly. "Don't you have family to see?" You nod, suddenly deeply grateful for your family tradition of having Christmas dinner a few days early.
"On the twenty-second," you agree, fidgeting with the material of your steering wheel as you death-grip it nervously. "Plenty of time to have a night to ourselves." Charlie visibly shivers at the idea, which makes your stomach flip.
"I just..." He trails off uneasily, clearly struggling with his next words, uncomfortable with voicing his hesitations. "Christmas is a time for family. I'm not... I'm not your fam-"
You interrupt him again, stating firmly "You can be." You turn into the parking garage below his building, and finally turn to face him. Charlie just wordlessly stares at you, an adorable flush in his cheeks.
"I... Alright, then." he says quietly, a small smile slipping onto his face, and you beam back at him.
"Perfect. Christmas Eve, if you're not busy?" you suggest, and he chuckles and nods. "I believe Jamie is having her party that night, with Erin, and Kate and Mark. We can attend together."
"Excellent." Charlie seems genuinely touched by the idea of finally participating in his employees' parties. You unlock the door for him and he gives you the sweetest smile you have ever seen on his face. "Thanks for everything, darling." You flush in pleasure at the unexpected pet name, and Charlie appears to not have realized he said it until you stare bashfully at him. He opens his mouth a couple times, beet red in the face, before nodding in an extremely flustered manner and exiting the car. You watch him walk to the elevator before pulling out of the lot with a smile on your face.