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coloursflyaway · 1 year ago

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I Will Hold Your Hands To Stop Them From Shaking

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 9.000

Read on AO3

“You don’t have to know how to dance”, Charles says, and he is so close that Edwin can make out the shadows each eyelash paints onto his face. If he had a breath still, the sight would take it. “I never learnt it either. Just move with the music, and I promise that if I spin you ‘round, I won’t drop you.” _____ It doesn't take Charles forever to figure out the rest.

Watching Charles move is easy. Maybe it’s the easiest thing in Edwin’s life right now; it’s definitely something that he hasn’t only started recently, but something that he has always done. Even before he knew what it meant. Because it is so easy.

Everything about Charles seems to be in motion, like motion is what he is deep inside, bright and fluid and everywhere at once, because no place can hold him. None deserves to hold him, not for long. Crystal once told him that Charles used his brightness, his smiles and his constant movement, to cover up all the pain in his past, but Edwin secretly disagrees: there is some of that, he can see that now, but that’s not where it comes from. Where it comes from, that magnetism that ensures that everyone they have ever met grows to love him, is just Charles. Just who he is inside, and who he always would have been, had they not tried to beat it out of him when he was still alive.

And love him, they do. Crystal most certainly does, Jenny almost smiled at him two days ago, and even their new minder – who Charles insists on calling Charlie – seems to struggle to push down a growing affection towards him. She will lose, Edwin knows it for certain. It’s beautiful to see, because that is just what Charles deserves, and it’s… it’s difficult at the same time. Or rather, it was a little easier when there was only Edwin who loved him.

Because love him, he does. Looking back, it’s almost impossible to believe that it has taken him thirty years to realise it, that it took a crow-turned-boy to make him see, a cat king who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, but oh, he loves him.

Loves him to a point where he almost feels like he has a heart again, because he thinks he can feel it beating, just like he thinks he can feel it stop when Charles touches him, smiles at him, gets out that new cricket bat they got and twirls it just to show off. Loves him so much that he feels like it’s not only the reason why he was put on this Earth, but why he died, why he crawled out of hell and why he was permitted to stay here after all. And looking back at it, it was all worth it for a single moment of watching Charles sing a Joan Jett song to himself, spinning in between his steps when he thinks he’s alone.

“I’m voting for the bloke who got mysteriously shanked at the Troxy”, Charles casts in his lot, twirling a pen he is not writing with between his fingers. He’s positively glowing in the warm, late afternoon sunlight. “You just want to go to a concert venue”, Crystal interjects, raising a perfect eyebrow, before chucking a piece of nectarine at him. Charles catches it effortlessly, of course he does, and tosses it right back. They look positively domestic, sitting on opposite sites of the couch they got for their human co-detective, playing with fruit. Edwin aches.

“So what? Nothin’ wrong with having a bit of fun on the job, is there?”, Charles is grinning, looks over at Edwin, who tries not to notice that the brightness of his smile doesn’t waver for a second. “C’mon, mate, back me up here!” “I’m afraid that merely getting stabbed doesn’t sound like something that would necessitate a supernatural investigation”, Edwin answers, and even then, the light doesn’t dim in Charles’ eyes. “I’m sure the normal, living police is more than enough for that.”

“You guys are no fun”, Charles whines and catches another piece of fruit from mid air. “Also, I’ll have you know that the Troxy’s a nice place, people don’t just get stabbed in there.” “Well, apparently they do now.”

“Can you please wipe that smug smirk off your face”, Crystal hisses just after the bouncer waves her through the doors of the Troxy. Edwin, who can only see the back of Charles’ head, still knows that he absolutely doesn’t. “What, I’m only happy to go and see a gig with my mates!”, he shoots back, and Edwin watches the little skip in his step, like he is dancing to a beat that hasn’t started playing yet. “And do a bit of work on the side, of course.”

It’s difficult to regret the decision to take this case, because Charles is glowing, has been since Crystal purchased the ticket to the concert this afternoon. Edwin does not know the act that will be performing and he doubts Charles does either, but that doesn’t seem to matter for a second.

The other two bicker for a few more moments while Edwin tunes out of the conversation to check their surroundings – they are here on a case after all – until Charles spins around on his heels, looking at Edwin expectantly. “Well, have you ever? Was that even a thing in your time?” “Excuse me?” “Been at a gig, mate!” Charles spreads his arms like he is trying to show Edwin all the wonders of the world, his smile so wide it seems to split his face apart. Edwin’s metaphorical heart gives out for a second.

“I haven’t had the, uh, pleasure, yet”, Edwin answers, even while he tries to avoid touching anything in his near vicinity. It’s sticky, just looking at it. “I wish I could tell you that I know you’re gonna love it, but I guess we’ll have to see about that”, Charles tells him, half laughing, and Edwin finds himself smiling, too.

He knows he’ll end up loving it, even if not because of the reason Charles is thinking of.

“Just let us enjoy, like, three songs”, Charles all but begs when the show finally starts. “I swear, after that I will be good and I won’t complain at all when we go work. Just three.” Crystal is holding onto the drink she bought earlier, but she doesn’t say anything, just turns to look at Edwin. Who is powerless to do anything but nod. “Aces! Thanks, Edwin.”

And Charles slings an arm around his shoulders for a second, pulls him into an almost hug, before he turns back to the stage, leaving a cloak of warmth across Edwin’s upper back. Music starts playing, but he doesn’t really notice it, and why should he? Charles is cheering and clapping and moving with the rhythm, and even if Edwin cannot see his face, he can see the joy in him so clearly that it is burnt into the inside of his eyelids every time he blinks.

Charles is the sun, he’s radiance personified, he’s-

He turns around to face Edwin, the music temporarily stopped as the singer says some words into the microphone, and he extends a hand, palm facing upwards. “Do you wanna dance? Shouldn’t leave your first concert without having danced at least once.” Charles is smiling, but it’s different now, encouraging somehow.

It works, because Edwin’s body is moving before he knows it, hand reaching out to take Charles’ like it is nothing when it’s everything instead, when it’s like he can feel the weight of Charles’ fingers in his. “I’m not a prolific dancer, I’ll have you know”, he mutters when Charles pulls him closer, even though chances are that Charles figured that out himself quite easily. “Don’t have to be”, comes the answer, and Charles is so close now that Edwin can make out the shadows each eyelash paints onto his face. If Edwin had a breath still, the sight would take it. “I never learnt it either. Just move with the music, and I promise that if I spin you ‘round, I won’t drop you.”

Another smile, one that Edwin reciprocates, and then the band starts again and Edwin is still not listening to the music. Instead, he is trying to follow Charles when he starts swaying to it, distributing his non-existent weight from one foot to another. It seems to be working because Charles laughs, head thrown back and happiness painted in broad strokes across his entire being, and puts a hand on Edwin’s side, like he is trying to guide him. Like Edwin wouldn’t follow anywhere he is going anyway.

“You’re getting it!”, Charles shouts at him over the music, too loud and yet not loud enough, and then Charles is lifting their joined hands for everyone and no one to see, the hand on Edwin’s hip giving him a little push and Charles is spinning him. Doesn’t drop him, just like he promised. It’s silly and a little immature and it makes Charles laugh and Edwin follow suit; it’s wonderful and thrilling, and then Charles glances behind Edwin’s shoulder at Crystal.

Who he would rather be dancing with, of course. But who has been to concerts before, and who might garner attention they do not need when being spun by an invisible hand.

Charles’ eyes dart back to his, and his smile is the same, and Edwin thinks, thank you, thank you for this, and means it.

They don’t find much, but for once, that doesn’t matter too much to Edwin, because Charles keeps glowing for days afterwards. There’s an extra spring in his step that carries him all the way up to the victim’s flat, where Crystal finds the clue that leads them to their rather unsatisfying explanation to their mystery: the brother of a mistreated ex-girlfriend, who saw an opportunity for anonymous revenge. It’s worth it, all of it, every time.

“But if you haven’t tried it, how do you know it doesn’t work?”, Charles asks, partly incredulous, partly amused. “You might be able to eat! Do you know how much I miss eating? What I would give for, let’s say, a day where I could eat again?” Charlie, since she hasn’t settled on another name yet, scoffs, and primly sits down on the sofa. “As I have explained, I have no interest in trying any kind of sustenance that is offered here on the mortal plane. The thought disgusts me.”

Charles groans and flings himself back onto the armchair – they keep getting more and more furniture, it seems – so that his head is hanging off it, upside down, looking at Edwin. “Edwin, I’m right, yeah? You know that I’m right.”

“He’s right”, Edwin tells Charlie, and even upside down, Charles’ smile lights up the entire room.

It’s late at night, around four a.m., Crystal is asleep and Charlie hasn’t shown her face in the office in the last few days, so it’s just them. Nights like this are Edwin’s favourite – he has never spoken it aloud, but he suspects Charles knows anyway, might even feel the same occasionally – and they have become… not rare, but less frequent than they used to be, because Crystal has no established sleeping schedule and Charlie drops in whenever she feels like it anyway. But, oh, Edwin has missed them.

They do not have an active case right now, will probably pick a new one come the morning, so it really is just them. Charles is trying to balance a ball on his cricket bat, spread out on the couch he seems to enjoy much more than he wants to admit, Edwin has just picked out a new book after finishing his last one, and there is space left between Charles’ feet and the armrest on the sofa. It’s not a choice Edwin makes, sitting down next to him. Where else would he go?

There is enough room for both of them, and yet Charles lifts his legs when Edwin approaches, even though it means dropping the ball right into the hollow between his neck and chest. And he lets Edwin settle there, caught between the cushions and Charles’ feet, as if it is the easiest thing in the world. And really, it is.

Without thinking, Edwin rests one hand on Charles’ ankle, fingers circling his leg, while he picks up the new book, a novel this time. Charles does the same with his ball, throwing and catching it when it comes back down a few times, before putting it back on the cricket bat. It’s familiar, it’s new; it’s how Edwin wants to spend eternity.

“Watcha reading?”, Charles asks eventually, after the ball has dropped another three times, and while being interested in Edwin’s reading isn’t that uncommon for Charles, it startles Edwin slightly. He glances over at Charles, who looks like he has been watching Edwin for some time, and shows him the cover. “East of Eden”, he tells him for good measure, “a novel, for once.” “Even though you don’t have a friend to talk about them with anymore?”

Charles seems genuinely curious, and while Edwin does occasionally finds himself missing Monty and their conversations, it still seems like an odd thing to ask. “Of course I have someone to talk to about them. I have you, don’t I?” Although it takes a moment, it makes Charles smile; he looks almost a little wistful and Edwin isn’t sure if he likes that expression on his handsome face.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not like I can talk back about them, innit?” Charles tosses the ball again, catches it effortlessly, and maybe Edwin has to stop with the novels after all, because for a second he thinks, just like he has caught me every time I needed catching. “I could read it to you, if you wanted me to?”

He doesn’t expect much – Charles doesn’t enjoy books like Edwin does – but Charles nods immediately, tosses the ball again, catches it, and looks at Edwin with a smile that fits his face much better. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot, actually.”

“I am telling you, this is something the police will be able to solve on their own, and if it isn’t, they should most likely lose their jobs, because they are incredibly incompetent”, Charles repeats for what feels like the sixth time, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He just so stops himself from rolling his eyes. Crystal has become a somewhat valued member of the detective agency, however, sometimes, it is like she simply doesn’t want to understand what he is telling her.

“They have been trying to solve it! For two weeks!” Crystal looks as exasperated as Edwin feels, which, at least, is some comfort. Maybe the frustration will make her more likely to give up her ludicrous idea of helping with a perfectly run-of-the-mill hit and run. “Charles! Back me up on this!”

For a second, Charles just looks between them, obviously amused, then he throws an arm around Edwin’s shoulders, squeezing him close to his side. “Sorry, Crystal”, he replies, and Edwin can hear the smile in his voice, wants to trace it with his fingertips, “I’m with my best mate on this one.”

“You wanna read to me again?”, Charles asks that same night after Crystal has gone to bed, lifting his legs to make room for Edwin. As if he knew his answer already. He does.

“I didn’t think you enjoyed the story this much”, Edwin remarks as he settles down between the sofa and Charles’ legs, reminded once more that this might be his favourite place in the world. His hand finds Charles’ ankle, only that this time, he touches not only fabric, but skin as well. “It’s alright”, Charles replies, shoots Edwin a little smile. “I’m mainly enjoying you reading it to me.”

If he had still a heart to pump blood through his astral body, Edwin is certain he would be blushing, because of Charles’ words, the sliver of skin pressing against his palm, or both.

Slowly but surely, it becomes a regular thing between them. Once or twice, occasionally even three times a week, Charles will look up at him from the sofa, lift his legs in invitation, and say, “Read to me?” And Edwin will slide into the best place this world has to offer, put his hand around Charles’ thin, graceful ankle, and start reading to him about the Salinas Valley.

Things are quiet, for their standards, because they are approaching Halloween and the ghosts are preparing for it like the living do, perhaps more so, when Charles looks up from the strange tablet computer Crystal is trying to get them to use. Charles, admittedly, is much better at it than Edwin, but at least in Edwin’s eyes, that was to be expected.

“This might be interesting”, Charles says and turns the device around so Crystal and Edwin can see. “A magician’s assistant went missing during a show, her body was found half an hour later, but halfway across the country. And in two places. They have no idea how she got there, it should be impossible. Nor how she got cut in half. Sounds supernatural to me, doesn’t it?”

Edwin scans the article for a second; it does sound interesting, sounds supernatural, but… “We don’t exactly have a client though, do we?” “I know, but I’m sure that if we find the ghost of that assistant, and she hasn’t passed on yet, she would be interested in solving it. And it would be a proper mystery again, you love those.” Charles smiles at him, because he knows he has won already; Edwin does love those. Slowly, he nods.

“Great. Crystal? You’re on board?” This time, he needs to do no convincing at all, because Crystal is grinning already. “Oh, absolutely. Magical nonsense with an actual magician? I’m so in.”

They take the train to Cambridge, where the body was found after disappearing in Manchester, and Edwin bites back every comment he might make about how much quicker it would be to travel via mirror. His point still stands, of course, but Crystal is now part of the agency, and, mostly against his will, Edwin has started to grow fond of her. And more importantly, Charles has. So they file into the small, dingy train wagon, where Crystal has booked not one, but three seats for them. It’s thoughtful, if not frugal, but as Crystal reassured Edwin when he brought it up, her parents have more than enough money and also owe her something for not even noticing when she disappeared.

It makes sense, in a way.

So they sit down, Crystal pulling out the tablet computer and a pair of oversized headphones, making it look like she is talking to someone over the internet instead of them. Quite a clever disguise, Edwin has to admit.

“So, I think the best plan of action is to first go to the site where they found the body. If the ghost is still on the mortal plane, then she might be hanging around. And if not, Crystal can maybe read something around the place, find out about what happened that way.” Charles says, and snatches Edwin’s spare pen right from his breast pocket to twirl it between the elegant fingers Edwin usually tries not to notice. “And anyway, we are getting out of town for a bit again, and that by itself is pretty exciting, isn’t it?”

Exciting might not be the word Edwin would choose, but he has to agree that a change of scenery is welcome. He nods, while his gaze follows the motions of his pen, the flex of tendons under Charles’ skin. When he looks back up, Crystal is watching him with an expression he cannot quite place.

“I don’t think I have ever been to Cambridge”, she finally says, although Edwin can hear the expression in her voice still. “So, yeah, sure. Nice to see something else. How about you guys?” “We were there in, what? ‘92, maybe? Definitely in 2006”, Charles replies, not noticing the expression at all, but then again, it isn’t directed at him. “The case of the missing sledgehammer and the Coca Cola vending machine, and the one with the electric monk.”

“I would posture that the first case had more to do with the man that went missing, but otherwise, Charles, you are quite correct”, Edwin replies, and he is not thinking about how they were back then, not wondering if, even twenty years ago, he had been this hopelessly in love with Charles. He suspects he was, but he is too good a detective to allow himself to spend more time wondering about it, lest he lose himself in the question.

“The electric – you know, all things considered, I don’t want to know, just forget I almost asked”, Crystal starts, then stops again, making Charles laugh. “Don’t worry, explaining the whole thing would take too long for this train ride anyway”, he comments, “and I would rather just enjoy it. Haven’t been on a train in a long time, have I?”

“And how does one enjoy a ride on the British National Rail? I don’t think that has ever been done before”, Crystal asks, but Charles just smiles. “Like this”, he answers and turns around so he faces the window, settling back against Edwin’s shoulder to use him as a backrest. The position is slightly awkward, doesn’t seem like one in which Charles will truly be able to enjoy the view, so Edwin adjusts his body slightly, turning it towards Charles’ back and puts the arm Charles is resting against over his shoulder, leaving it stretched out across Charles’ chest. Who grasps his wrist like Edwin does his ankle when he reads to him, holds onto it and settles back like they have done this a thousand times before. They haven’t, but Edwin allows himself the quiet hope that maybe, they will.

The expression doesn’t leave Crystal’s face for the entire train ride.

They arrive at their destination, a street corner with a quite charming looking French restaurant and a church on either side. Apparently they had found half of the woman’s body in the courtyard of the church, the other half in some bushes across the street, but, as Crystal informs them while reading off her phone, without any blood around the pieces. It is mysterious, and Edwin would be lying if he wasn’t itching to solve the puzzle.

To speed things up, they split apart, with Charles and Crystal going to the church, where the top half of the body was found, while Edwin walks over to the small square on the other side. Finding the spot where they had found the corpse is easy enough; police tape is boxing it in and the bushes are trampled around it to the point where Edwin almost pities them.

He walks through them, grateful that the twigs and thorns cannot snag at his spectral clothing, but there is nothing to be found that the police, or their boots, have left untouched. And just as Crystal said, not a single drop of blood that would suggest someone’s cleaved-in-half body had been left there just two days earlier. It is disappointing until he hears his name called from behind him, Charles running up to him with his curls bouncing, his steps light and sure. He’s a vision, just like he always is, and Edwin loves him to the point where it feels like it is splitting his body apart at the seams.

“Edwin!”, Charles calls out again and comes to a halt in front of the police tape. “We found the ghost! And she is even willing to pay!”

Amina, as the ghost in question is called, turns out to be a woman in her late twenties, with long, dark hair and a faint German accent, wearing something akin to a 1920s cocktail dress which she had apparently died in, although there is nothing left to suggest she had ever been split into pieces. “This is Edwin, my partner”, Charles introduces him, and Amina gives him a smile that looks practice and sincere simultaneously. “Well, you are a delightful addition”, Amina comments, her voice deep and warm, one eyebrow elegantly arched.

“I strive to be, at least”, Edwin replies, “Now, can you tell us anything about what happened to you?” “Of course. It isn’t much, though. I was on stage, and we were about to perform one of our usual tricks. Nothing crazy, just your standard disappearing assistant. Arnold did his speech, like he always does, then I stepped into our little cabinet and he pulled the curtain shut, so I could get into the hidden compartment below the stage.” She pauses for a moment, then adds, “Actually, I only remember opening and stepping into it, not getting inside. And then I found myself here, in Cambridge, where we had been only a few nights ago with the show. Not too far from where we had been staying, actually.”

“So you recognised the place?” “After a little while. At first, I was just very confused.” She shrugs her shoulders, one of the straps that holds up her dress falling down; she doesn’t fix it. “But my grandmother was a medium and used to talk about ghosts quite a lot, so I caught on relatively quick, all things considered. I spent some time trying to figure our what had happened myself, but now you and your little trio of detectives are here, so at least I will be able to sort this out before I pass.”

Edwin has the distinct feeling that she’d take a drag from a cigarette if she could, but like this she just stops talking, a moment of silence stretching between them.

“I tried to do a reading, but all that I could find out about this place and how Amina ended up here, is that she did. A flash of light and then there was a dismembered torso lying on the ground”, Crystal eventually says, gesturing at the floor. “Not exactly helpful, is it?” “Well…”, Edwin starts, glances over to Charles and realises that they are thinking the same thing. Charles is quicker.

“What colour did the light have?”, he asks and Edwin can’t help but smile at him; Charles gives him the quickest of looks, one corner of his lips upturned. “The colour?”, Crystal asks back, a second slower than expected, “Sort of…. green, I guess? Does that mean anything?”

But Charles is already looking at Edwin, the smile fully formed, and it’s in unison they say, “Oh, yes.”

It’s a spell, of course it is, but it’s more than that: it’s a portal, and a shoddily made one, too. Edwin tries to explain, but he, quite honestly, doesn’t have the patience for it, so in the end, Charles takes over. Sits Amina and Crystal down and goes through it step by step: that the portal was done by someone who obviously didn’t have the practice, that it worked well enough to transport half of Amina at a time, but not all of her, and that that is why there was no blood. That the only question is if it was done maliciously or by accident.

“Your magician, the one you work with, is he, you know. A real magician?”, Charles asks, keeping his voice soft and sweet, although Edwin isn’t certain Amina needs it. For someone recently murdered, she is taking it in stride. “Oh no, it is all an act”, she answers easily, “Nothing but slight of hand, tricks, that kind of thing.” “So no way he could have created the portal?”

“I don’t think so? And why would he want to? The whole point is that I come back after I disappear, so getting me here, cut in half, would defeat the purpose, don’t you think?” She looks at them, one by one. “Also, Arnold, he is a little bit of a dork, but he is kind. Has a bit of a crush on me, if I’m being honest. It’s… sweet. Or something.” She smiles, almost pityingly, in a way that, if Charles had looked at him like this when he had confessed his feelings, would have broken the heart he doesn’t have into the smallest pieces. Edwin hopes against all hope that Amina never let her magician see that smile.

“Okay, so-”, Charles starts, and there is something wrong with his voice; when Edwin looks over at him, there is something off about his expression, too. Like there is something he wants to say but can’t. For a second, their eyes meet, then Charles focusses back on Amina. “We’ll still talk to him. After all, it was his cupboard the portal was in. Anyone you could think of that might have wanted to harm you otherwise?”

Amina shakes her head, and Charles nods, but the smile he gives her looks almost frail.

Once they’re on the platform for their train to Manchester, and Crystal has left them behind to get herself a few snacks for the ride, Charles suddenly turns to him. “Edwin”, he says, and there is an urgency in his voice that Edwin doesn’t associate with it at all. “I just- you know that that is not how I think of you, right?” “What?” “Like Amina”, Charles tries to explain, and if possible, he sounds even more urgent, more intense. “I don’t see you how she talked about her magician friend. Arnold. I never will. I never could. And I need you to know that.”

Standing there, he looks so earnest, so fierce, that Edwin wishes it still could take his breath away. Because it doesn’t matter that Charles isn’t in love with him, as long as he loves him like this: fully, completely, enough to be afraid that Edwin might be hurt by someone else’s comments about a person he has never met.

He permits him himself a little smile, because of course, Charles would notice, before he puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I know”, he answers and sees the tension wash out of Charles’ form within a second, his gaze dropping as if he has to collect himself before looking at Edwin again. “I know you never would. I didn’t doubt it for a second. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” Charles almost breathes the word instead of speaking; when he looks up at Edwin again, his eyes are dark and full of affection, full of gratitude Edwin isn’t sure he deserves. After all, the only reason he knows it is because Charles has proven it again and again. “I’m – God, I’m glad, I don’t know what I would have done if you had ever thought it was like that with us.”

And he hugs Edwin to his chest, all that intensity, that urgency captured between two arms; Edwin sinks into it like he might not have permitted himself to a few months ago, and wishes he still had a sense of smell so he could breathe Charles in.

Their trip to Manchester is uneventful, Crystal munching on chocolate while listening to a podcast, and Charles looking out of the window at the scenery, this time, unfortunately not leaning back against Edwin’s chest. However, like this, Edwin gets to see the joy bloom on his pretty face whenever they pass something that delights him in particular. Because that is Edwin’s pastime: watching Charles.

He gets caught doing it, too, but then again, it doesn’t feel like getting caught at all, since Charles just smiles at him when he notices Edwin watching, points out something in the fast-moving distance. A cow, maybe, a cloud formation that reminds him of something. And then he turns back to the window, and Edwin goes back to watching him, the slope of his nose and the arch of his eyebrows, the sharp cut of his jaw. The darkness of his eyes and how they light up so easily, so often.

If he could, he would stay here. Maybe not for eternity, but maybe a decade or two.

Neither of them has been in Manchester in a decade, so it’s like stepping into a new city when they finally arrive. Charles takes off immediately, looking around the train station in wonder, but before Edwin can sigh and watch him, or maybe do the reasonable thing and follow, Crystal stops him.

“There is something going on between you two”, she doesn’t ask, just states, like she knows she is right. Which, of course, she is. Since it seems foolish to try and deny it, Edwin just nods. Doesn’t know what to say, if she wants an explanation, or just to let him know that she has noticed.

“Charles has told me about hell and all that”, she continues, and again, Edwin nods; he figured as much. In fact, he is quite grateful for not having to do it himself. “But it isn’t trauma bonding, not that you guys would need any more of that. It’s the way you look at him, the way he looks at you. Something has changed between you and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“It has”, Edwin confirms, and Crystal squints at him like she is trying to read him. “But not to worry, it’s nothing bad. Just complicated, I suppose.” His response draws a laugh from Crystal, her eyes sparkling with mirth and like Edwin has completely misunderstood her. “Oh no, Edwin, I know it’s nothing bad”, she replies, laughter still colouring her words. “I just wanted to know if you felt like telling me what kind of good thing it is, since Charles doesn’t seem to.”

Finding the magician turns out to be easier than expected. So easy, in fact, that they almost don’t, because looking in the venue where Amina disappeared seems too on the nose, all of them agree, and just stop by because Crystal wants to do a reading for clues where he might be. Which turns out to be the same theatre, sitting in the front row with his head in his hands, looking to Edwin like his shoulders are carrying the weight of existence itself.

“Uh… hi?”, Crystal tries to introduce herself, and it’s like pulling at the strings of a marionette how fast his head snaps up, red-rimmed eyes staring up at her. The Astonishing Arnold is a man in his thirties, hair dyed black and a little moustache over his upper lip, and he is devastated.

It’s pain Edwin cannot comprehend, and hopefully never will have to, but one he can empathise with; it looks like he thinks losing Charles might feel like. Without thinking, he turns his head, almost to make sure that Charles is still there, only to find that Charles is looking at him already, the same kind of understanding painted in bold strokes across his face. This was no little crush, and that makes Amina’s response to it so much worse.

“Hello”, Arnold says, quickly wiping at his eyes. “Are you… lost or something?” Crystal shakes her head and Edwin can see her make a quick calculation, decide on a plan of action. She is truly getting quite good at this. “I’m here about Amina. I’m a medium and I want to help.”

Her name is enough to draw a sob from Arnold’s lips; Crystal glances over at them quickly and Charles gives her a thumbs up, a brittle-looking smile. She’ll take this one. “I talked to Amina”, Crystal continues, “I want to help her find out what happened, so she can move onto the afterlife. She mentioned you and that she really cared about you. Said you were the kindest person she knew.”

She’s twisting Amina’s words, but Edwin cannot blame her, not when Arnold looks so broken down by what happened, not when a lie might ease a little of his pain.

“And she said she knows that you have nothing to do with her death”, Crystal continues, “That you would never do something like that.” A tremor runs through Arnold’s body, like an earthquake, a cosmic event, and then he drops his gaze to where he has clenched his hands in front of his chest. It looks like he is praying. “That’s where she is wrong”, he finally says, and it’s a confession, it’s a plea for help. “Because I did.”

It turns out to be a failed ploy to woo Amina, in the end. A portal to transport her to a restaurant they had been meaning to go to back in Cambridge, the little French place on the corner, where a reservation and a bottle of chilled champagne was waiting for them. Arnold would join her after the show, with a bouquet of roses he had stashed away in his dressing room, to ask her to give him a chance.

“I knew she didn’t feel the same way”, he admits, tears streaming down his face. “But I thought maybe I could win her over. I’ve loved for so long, I thought maybe that could be enough, that I could love her enough for the both of us. And I figured, real magic, that would impress her. That would impress anyone, right?”

Only that Arnold had no experience with real magic, had only found a volume of spells on one of their trips by chance and had practiced on objects first, then small animals. It had worked, well enough that he thought he was ready to do this, without realising that while his portals were able to transfer the bunnies and birds that they kept for their shows from one side of the room to the other, they couldn’t yet handle a grown woman and this much distance.

“It was only after the show that I started freaking out”, he continues and Edwin’s heart aches for him, more so than it did for Amina. “When I was preparing to go through the portal myself I found a strand of her hair, cut off, looking like it had been singed. Amina was always so careful with her hair, so I knew something was wrong. The portal itself looked different, too, like there was static running through it. I called her, because I know that she always keeps her stupid Apple watch on, even during the shows. We had so many fights about that.”

He sniffles, the ghost of a smile passing over his face at the memory, followed by a wave of fresh tears, most likely caused by the realisation that they will never have that fight again. Crystal reaches into her pocket and hands him a tissue, and Edwin drops the hand he is holding his pen with for a moment, glad that his fingers don’t have the ability to cramp any longer. Yet, he shakes them out; when he stops, there’s a hand reaching for his.

His non-existent heart seizes up in his spectral chest and he looks over at Charles, who is holding onto his hand, intertwining their fingers. Charles looks back, raising an eyebrow as if to ask, is this okay? and Edwin nods, although he isn’t sure if it’s the right answer to give. Not because he doesn’t want to hold Charles’ hand, but because he isn’t sure if he will be able to concentrate on anything but this, now.

The notes, in any case, will have to be written later.

Arnold is drying his tears, and Charles’ fingers are slender between his own, elegant and strong, and Edwin is trying his best to listen when Arnold starts speaking again and yet isn’t sure if he succeeds.

“She didn’t pick up”, Arnold says and it’s like his heart is breaking within the words, “Of course she didn’t. And I started panicking, but I didn’t know what to do. Go through the portal myself and try and look for her? Call the police? Drive to Cambridge? Before I decided on one thing, I got a call and they told me they had found her. Gotten my number from the stupid Apple watch.”

He shakes his head, like he is still not sure how to process any of this; in his lap, his fingers are tearing the tissue apart, bit by bit, but Edwin isn’t sure that Arnold even notices. “I tried to confess to the police”, he continues, every word a sob, “But what was I supposed to say? That I created a magical portal to take her to dinner, but instead ended up cutting the woman I love into pieces? They would never have believed me. I wouldn’t believe me, if it hadn’t happened to me.” There is a pause, and Edwin can see that Crystal is trying to find the words to say something, but Arnold beats her to it.

“When you see her again, tell her I am sorry”, he asks Crystal, no, begs her. “Tell her I never meant for this to happen. Tell her… tell her I love her.”

Another wave of tears and the fingers around Edwin’s hand tighten; when Edwin looks over, there are tears in Charles’ eyes too.

“I will”, Crystal promises, and Edwin hopes that something so small can be enough.

In the end, they don’t tell Amina anything. Instead Charles brings her to Manchester via mirror, where she crouches down before the man that loved her above all else, and there is pity in her eyes, but genuine affection, too.

“Tell him… tell him it’s okay”, she says softly, and reaches out to hold his clasped hands in hers. “Tell him I forgive him. And… even if I am not sure if it’s the truth, tell him I would have said yes.”

Walking back to the train station afterwards is a quiet affair, each of them lost to their own thoughts, until Crystal stops them between the bustling crowd, the cafés and stores. “You two go ahead without me. Use the mirror to get back”, she tells them, “I could use some time alone after all this.”

“Are you sure?”, Charles asks, trying and almost failing to give her a smile. “We can be quiet.” “Yeah, I really am. I’ll see you in a couple of hours”, she says, and squeezes Charles’ shoulder like Charles had held onto Edwin’s hand; to make sure he is okay, to let him know that she is. “After I have eaten my weight in Gregg’s sausage rolls and Cadbury crème eggs.”

The agency is quiet, almost empty, without Crystal here, and it is a strange thing to realise. Before Edwin can contemplate what it means, Charles has flung himself down onto the couch, looking up at Edwin with wide, hopeful, beautiful eyes. He lifts his legs a fraction, and Edwin knows his answer, the same answer as always, before he has heard the question. “Read to me?”

“He followed the Rio Grande past Albuquerque and El Paso through the Big Bend, through Laredo to Brownsville. He learned Spanish words for food and pleasure, and he learned that when people are very poor they still have something to give and the impulse to give it…”, Edwin reads, aware that this time, Charles is doing nothing to keep his hands occupied. He’s just lying there, his feet in Edwin’s lap, listening. If it means anything, Edwin isn’t sure what it is.

“I wish I could fall asleep like this”, Charles interrupts him, smiling softly when Edwin looks up from his book. “It would be nice, listening to the story and your voice and just drift off.” Edwin’s fingers tighten around his ankle unwillingly; Charles must notice it, if he doesn’t, then he at least hears the warmth, the heaviness in Edwin’s voice when he answers. “Do you want to pretend to? I’ll keep reading, but you could close your eyes.”

“Yeah”, Charles replies after a moment has passed, and a bit of the light that has been missing in his gaze returns. “That sounds really nice, actually.” And he settles back, letting his eyes flutter shut, and Edwin continues reading.

“He developed a love for poor people he could not have conceived if he had not been poor himself. And by now he was an expert tramp, using humility as a working principle…”

Crystal returns a few hours later, when the sun has long since set.

They are still on the couch, positions unchanged, but Charles’ eyes are closed and the blanket Edwin had thrown over them earlier is concealing where Edwin’s thumb is brushing circles against the thin skin of Charles’ ankle. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at them for a moment, then sits down into the armchair and lets her head fall back against the cushions.

Edwin continues reading.

It’s morning, but just so, the first rays of sunlight forcing their way through the clouds. A few days have passed since Amina’s case, and slowly, they seem to be getting back to themselves, which is why Edwin looks up from the book he is reading – by himself, this time – and asks, “Why didn’t you tell Crystal about the confession?”

Charles keeps his eyes on the tablet computer for a few more seconds, then glances at Edwin, shrugging his shoulders. He’s only wearing a shirt, his jacket discarded on the armchair, and somehow, it makes every motion even more distracting. “Wasn’t my story to tell, was it?”, he replies easily, like he never even considered it before. “Didn’t know if you’d want her to know, either.”

Edwin isn’t sure about that himself, but he knows that he wouldn’t have blamed Charles if he had told Crystal. After all, he deserves someone to share his feelings with that isn’t Edwin, even if it hurts a little to admit that. It was just the two of them for so long, is all.

“I wouldn’t have minded it”, he says, and Charles chuckles a little at that, sets the tablet aside. “Not minding and wanting something are different things, though. Do you want me to tell her?” “I’m not sure”, Edwin replies, then considers it for a second longer. “I do, if it would help you.”

“Help me? With what?” There is genuine confusion written on his face, and Edwin can’t help but smile at him. “As I have gathered”, he replies, “it is considered helpful to talk to one’s friends to solve a problem.”

A pause, then Charles laughs, a soft, sweet sound that makes very little sense in this particular situation. Until he says, his voice so warm and so full of affection it makes Edwin tingle all over, “Edwin, mate. Your feelings have never been a problem. Not to me.”

They find another case a few days later, a simple one. A missing necklace that is supposed to be given to a daughter, like it had been given forty years ago to their client. Crystal finds it easily, hidden behind cracks in the floorboards, and when blue light starts glowing behind their client, Charles reaches out and takes Edwin’s hand in his. Not to make sure that he is okay this time, Edwin thinks, but just to hold it.

By now, they have made it through almost half of East of Eden; sometimes Crystal joins them, but today, it’s just Charles and him. “You know”, Charles says in the pause between two words, which is a surprise, because Edwin thought he was pretending to sleep. His eyes are closed, after all, and Edwin has gotten him a blanket to cocoon into twenty minutes earlier. “Sometimes it reminds me of dying, you reading to me like this.”

The words are a slap to the face, delivered in a warm, relaxed voice. “Oh. Oh God, if I had known, I wouldn’t have- “, Edwin stutters, trying to stand up, but Charles’ eyes fly open, his hand reaching out to hold Edwin in place. “No, no, no, this is brills, that’s not what I mean at all”, he says quickly, sincerely, and Edwin settles back against the cushions, still unconvinced.

“I didn’t really think about how that would sound”, Charles chuckles, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Sorry for that. I just… I guess, dying isn’t that bad a memory for me. Sure, it sucked, it was really cold and kind of hurt, but you were there. Talking to me. Reading to me. And, to be honest, I hadn’t felt that… not-alone for a long time prior to that. So, yeah, this reminds me of dying, because dying wasn’t that bad. And probably the most important thing I ever did in my life.”

He gives Edwin a smile that would heat up his cheeks, if he still had the ability to blush; like this, it just makes warmth bloom in his chest, where his heart would be. “You dying isn’t that bad a memory to me either”, he confesses, something he has felt a certain amount of shame about until this very moment. “I didn’t want you to die, of course, but if you hadn’t…”

His voice trails off, because he cannot bring himself to say it, not sure if it would be too much, but he doesn’t have to. “Then we wouldn’t have this”, Charles completes his sentence, sitting up so he can grasp the hand Edwin had been holding the book in, squeezing it tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go again. “I know. Seems worth it, to me.”

Another smile, utterly sincere, then Charles settles back against the cushions. “And thank you, for letting me stay.”

The door opens, and Crystal steps out of the room Charles dragged her into a few minutes earlier. Something about her expression is conflicted, unreadable, but when she sees Edwin watching her, her eyes soften, even if the struggle doesn’t disappear. One, two steps, then she stops and looks at Edwin.

“Good for you”, she finally says, and even if Edwin doesn’t know what she is referring to, he knows she means it.

“Wanna come upstairs?”, Charles asks, rocking back on his heels. “Look at the stars for a bit with me?”

It wasn’t how Edwin intended to spend the evening, since they have a new case and he should do some research, but Charles looks at him with a ghost of a smile on his lips, hope in his gaze, and Edwin loses the battle before he has even decided to fight it. “Of course, he replies and closes the book without noting where he stopped reading.

If he could feel, the night air would be crisp and fresh against his skin. Like this, it’s just clear, lets the stars shine brightly against the darkness of the sky. They used to do this more often, back when they first set up the agency; why they stopped, Edwin cannot quite say. Because it’s nice up here, the sounds of the busy streets mostly muffled, just enough space for the two of them. It’s intimate, it’s theirs, and Edwin hadn’t even realised that he missed it.

Charles is standing with his back to him, fussing around with something, cursing under his breath, so Edwin cranes his head back to see more stars. Long ago, he learnt the names of the constellations over London, but right now it seems difficult to recall a single one.

Before he can remember, a note rings out, strange and unexpected, and when Edwin looks down to find the source, Charles has turned around, Crystal’s Bluetooth speaker glowing with a dim, purple light behind him. He’s playing music, and it makes Edwin smile, even if he doesn’t recognise the song, because, of course, Charles would want to have something playing in the background to watch the stars.

“It’s the band we saw back at the Troxy”, Charles explains, and he looks nervous, almost. Hands clasped together in front of his body, fingers tangling and untangling, the smile on his lips bearing an edge Edwin isn’t familiar with. “You know, the stabbing case. I thought, maybe you would like to dance? The song is the same, even.”

His gaze drops and when he looks up at Edwin again, it’s from beneath his lashes; it’s enough to set Edwin’s immortal soul aflame. Charles has always been beautiful, Edwin had known that since the first moment he had set eyes on him, but he looks ethereal now, a painting, a statue carved in marble and gold.

He nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice, and Charles smiles so wide it’s blinding. Ducking his head once more, he steps forward and takes Edwin’s hand in his, puts the other one on his waist, and although they have only done this once before, it feels like like it is their rightful place. It feels like coming home.

Edwin’s other hand settles on Charles’ shoulder, and it feels so easy to start swaying in time with him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so he can continue to look at Charles, who is looking back so openly, like he wants Edwin to read every single of his thoughts, his feelings. He can’t, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t trying.

“It might sound a little silly”, he finally says, and Edwin wants to kiss the words out of his mouth, wants to listen to his voice for the rest of time, “but I never thought about this. Never considered it. I’m not sure why, but in the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. Ever since you read me detective stories so I wouldn’t die alone.”

He smiles and Edwin is combusting, he’s being torn apart, he’s bubbling over with happiness and with love and with gratitude to be here with Charles, to have gotten the privilege of knowing him, loving him.

“You know when I said we would have forever to figure out what the rest between us meant?”, Charles asks, and Edwin nods, speechless. “I don’t think we’ll need that long. I think I’ve figured it out already.”

And he leans in, slowly, like this is a moment he wants to savour, and kisses Edwin with so much love, so much devotion, he can feel reverberate through every part of his soul. His hand slides from Charles’ shoulder to cup his face, and Edwin was wrong before. Because this is its rightful place.

This is coming home.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #tagging them is really difficult guys we have to figure out a better system for this #especially a shipname #also i wrote this in 3 days beginning about 5 minutes after finishing the last episode #these boys are everything

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pboogerswbb · 7 months ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual themes and language, drinking, not my best work lol Wordcount: 6.6K A/C: so have we come up with a shipname for zari and paige yet?? anyways ty all for the support and sooo much love on the last part - especially those who remained patient for a new part! i've got a LOT of stuff going on rn so please be understanding if parts take a little longer to come out! i wanna write badly but i gotta prioritise real life unless y'all wanna start paying me lol anyways, this should be a rewarding chapter to some of y'all!! anyways go read!!

Before London

“The skirt,” my childhood friend Olivia’s voice filters through the speaker, my phone set up on my bed as I try on different outfits for the evening on facetime.

I stare into my reflection, the black miniskirt not leaving much to imagination, my legs fully on display. I sigh, unsure whether it would be too much for the night.

“I don’t know Liv, the dress is a little less revealing though,” I complain, turning around and seeing the way the tight skirt hugs my curves.

“Exactly why you should wear the skirt instead.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her face on my phone screen. “I’m not going there to shag someone. It’s going to be mostly the team anyway.”

“Izzie, you are single now. Act like it. Have you even hooked up with anyone since…?”

I scoff. “Do you think I have time for anything like that?”

“Maybe if you schedule it in…” Olivia jokes, making my mouth fall open feeling offended.

“Hey! I’m perfectly happy being single right now. Love is the last thing I should be thinking about.”

“Well, I still think you should wear the skirt,” the girl answers, making me groan.

“Fine, okay gotta go. I’ll text you!” I wave bye, before hanging up, realising my ride must have arrived. One more glance in the mirror and I decide it will do - the black mini skirt and a matching black cowl neck top, the back draped low to reveal the smooth skin of my back along my spine. The outfit was simple yet sexy, the stacked chunky golden jewelry dressing the look up. I’ve pinned my hair up in a bun, curls falling out as if by accident - in reality the hairdo had taken over 45 minutes to accomplish.

“Good enough,” I murmur to myself, putting on my boots and quickly hurrying out the door. Just like we had agreed, Trey is waiting in an Uber, waving me over. He had sent me a message earlier asking if we could ride together. Of course I had said yes out of politeness. Though if I’m honest, I always felt a little uneasy around him.

“Hey!” I smile politely climbing into the backseat with a potted orchid in my hands.

Trey meets my smile with an even wider one, eyeing me up and down as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Housewarming present?” He asks, pointing to the potted flower. I shrug and nod.

“I didn’t really know what to get them,” I admit, crossing my legs and eyeing the purple and white flower.

“Lala’s gonna love that,” Trey nods, his eyes still locked on me and my outfit. “You look…” he goes silent, and from my peripheral vision I see the man shaking his head. “Really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble, brushing it off lightheartedly as I grab my phone which is frantically buzzing.

Paige When are u coming? I’m already here and idk anyone Oh nvm Lou and Chris are here So… when u coming???

I feel my stomach doing flips as I read the texts, my mind still swirling with how she’d made me breakfast just earlier this morning. How my couch still smells just like her even hours later. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something comforting about her presence. The way she worked to make me laugh, to get me to relax. Like she wanted to take care of me.

Just left so I should be there soon x

Izzie Iz Help We’re drinking wine

Time to be a big girl and learn Paige

But I don’t wanna 🙁 Fine Bc you said so

Good girl

Freaky 😏

Paige

Sorry I pregamed

Of course you did I’ll be there soon x

Giggling at my phone, I place it on my lap, not wanting to be rude towards the man sitting next to me. Trey’s eyes are locked on me, and I can feel myself growing uneasy, especially when I realise I have nothing to talk to him about other than work.

”You excited for tonight?” He asks.

”Yeah, it’s going to be nice to see everyone out of work,” I answer, keeping my composure despite feeling awkward, begging he doesn’t pick up on it. I had become quite good at that (or Trey was more ignorant than I realised).

”Oh yeah, you haven’t really had the chance to do that yet huh?” He asks, his deep voice gravelly.

“Not really no.”

“Well, if you ever get lonely, you can always call me up Zari,” Trey says, reaching over and suddenly placing his hand on mine resting on my lap. I keep still as long as I can before pulling it away, pretending I just needed that specific hand to hold the pot in my lap now.

“Uh, yeah that’s really sweet of you. Thank you,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Paige lives right upstairs actually so I’ve been spending some time with her.”

Trey is taken aback, his brows rising. “Paige?”

“Yeah we’re friends,” I smile. Trey’s dark brown eyes keep watching me, clearly thinking about something till he shrugs and looks away.

The drive is quiet, full of awkward comments by the man clearly eager to make conversation. Normally I was better than this at the small talk that the Americans seemed to love so much - but not today. I could feel my stomach twisting with nerves and butterflies in anticipation for the evening. I wasn’t entirely sure why. But all I knew I was eager to see Paige - she had a way of grounding me.

We finally get to the building, awkwardly accompanying each other in the elevator much like my first day working for the Wings. I’m the one to ring the doorbell, Trey standing close behind me.

“Hey pretty girl!” Lala opens the door with a warm smile. “Oh hey Trey, come in come in!”

She steps aside, letting both of us in. The hallway is long and the ceilings are high, the space modern but filled with gorgeous furniture bringing warmth into the space.

“Wow, beautiful,” I gasp looking around.

“Issa work in process,” Lala laughs. I catch a glimpse into the open concept kitchen/living room, filled with people who had arrived on time unlike me and Trey (our Uber had taken a “shortcut”, which ended up taking 15 minutes longer than the normal drive.) I could tell alcohol was already flowing from the loud laughs echoing around the apartment.

“Oh, here you go!” I smile, handing Lala the orchid. “I wasn’t sure what you two wanted so I hope that’s okay.”

Lala gasps, admiring the plant. “No, this is gorg! And so are you, look at that skirt girl.”

I blush a little as she spins me around, admiring my outfit.

“Is it too short?” I ask but Lala looks at me with raised brows. It’s then I notice her skirt is just as short, if not shorter. “Nevermind!”

The woman laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me further into the apartment. My eyes immediately land on Paige next to Arike, both taking up half of the couch as if partaking in the Olympics of manspreading. Their laughs rise above the chatter of the crowd, making them impossible to miss. Even if subconsciously I had been looking for the blonde the second I stepped in.

“Yeah… they’re already drunk, thought you should know,” Lala nods towards the two.

“I heard, Paige was texting me already.”

The woman turns to me grinning a little. “Of course she was.” I’m not exactly sure what it means but don’t get the opportunity to ask before I hear a loud screech interrupting the both of us.

“Izzie!!” Paige gasps, her voice soaring above the noise. She climbs off the couch, rushing to me through the crowd. To my surprise the blonde wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I can’t help the smile that spreads to my face. It comes naturally, when my arms wrap around her neck, pulling her in. Like since our first hug this morning, physical closeness felt easy. She smells like deodorant, sandalwood and a hint of alcohol. Breaking the hug, I eye her fit up and down - the olive cuban collar shirt and shorts in a matching pattern, two silver chains dangling on her neck, hair in a slicked back bun.

All while I’ve been admiring Paige’s outfit, her gaze has been roaming across my body, taking me in. I notice a hint of red burning on her cheeks when her blue eyes land on my skirt. Suddenly I have the strongest need for a drink. Our stares meet, and for a fleeting moment I think she’s about to say something. But before she can, Arike is pulling me into a friendly hug.

“So glad you came, Zari! Whatchu wanna drink?”

I feel flustered, barely hearing her. Clearing my throat, I finally answer, feeling the blonde’s eyes boring into me.

“White wine please?”

Lala laughs, shaking her head and grabbing my shoulders. “You’re gonna need something stronger to keep up with us baby.”

I laugh. “Okay, tequila soda then?”

“Attagirl, lime?”

“Yes please,” I nod, watching Lala and Arike head towards the kitchen island covered in bottles of booze and glasses, leaving me alone with Paige.

For the first time in weeks, there’s a sense of awkwardness between us, neither of us knowing what to say. I wanted to tell her she looks good, that the olive against her skin that had grown more tan in Dallas made her glow in a way I had never seen before. But something in my throat doesn’t allow the words to come out. Thankfully the booze in Paige’s system makes her miss the weird tension completely.

“You look,” she starts, stepping closer to me, arm brushing against mine. She shakes her head, looking me up and down which is enough to make my ears burn. “Never seen you look like this before.”

I tilt my head, meeting her blue eyes challengingly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

To my enjoyment, this makes her flustered, her cheeks bright pink now.

“You know it is ma,” she grins.

“You and that bloody nickname,” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at the blonde, when Lala and Arike return to us with my drink.

“You guys wanna play beer pong?” Arike asks as I grab the glass from Lala.

“What is this, a frat house?” Paige laughs, making Lala groan.

“Trust, it wasn’t my choice.”

After a long debate between me, Izzie, Arike and Lala on who should be teaming up, we decided that the only fair combination was me with Lala, while Arike and Izzie played against us - the girls claiming it wouldn’t be right for the two hoopers to play beer pong against non-athletes. Honestly, I barely had listened to the conversation at all. Because the way Izzie looks tonight has me grasping the drink in my hand so tight my knuckles were beginning to turn white. My mind is travelling to the filthiest places at the thought of what is underneath the hemline of her skirt, her glowy legs making me weak in the knees. Even worse was the low, scooped back of her shirt, her spine’s movement visible as she walked around the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I couldn’t even stop the trembling of my hands. I needed to get more drinks in me quickly.

It seemed like the dark haired girl had the same idea, downing her first tequila soda in a matter of minutes as we set up the game. The tension often visible on her face only to me was slowly beginning to melt away.

“We’re about to win aight?” I tell Lala next to me, which makes Izzie let out a loud scoff.

“You really think I’ll let you win Bueckers?” The dark haired girl asks, challenging me.

“Yo, who’s the athlete here,” I respond, an arrogant grin on my face but she won’t back down, catlike eyes staring me down at the opposite end of the table.

“You’re enormously underestimating my desire to win.”

“Oh yeah?”

Izzie nods. “Yes Paige.”

And she’s right. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already flowing in my system, or the way Izara looks, her green eyes locked on me everytime I bounce the ball off the table but my aim is off. And somehow she keeps aiming perfectly, a sly grin and her sharp eyes glimmering as she makes me drink one cup of beer after another, after another until Lala is the one to call it off, admitting defeat gracefully.

Arike and Izara hug, celebrating their win, but I can’t even be mad - the way Izzie’s mouth is stretched into a wide smile, the way she was letting go off her disciplined, hard exterior as a result of the alcohol was such a joy to watch I could’ve soaked in it forever.

“I told you! I told you!” Iz laughs, coming over to me and getting up in my face. But all I’m doing is smirking, my hand snaking around her waist and pulling her close without thinking about it much. But she doesn’t pull away either, even when our fronts nearly press together, heat radiating between us. The party has turned loud, drunk people bumping into each other, yelling over the music, but all I see is the dark haired girl in front of me, and the blush on her cheeks.

“You were cheating Iz,” I tell her, heavy eyes gazing down at the girl.

“How?” She asks, stunned.

I shrug. “I dunno.” I did know. It was that damn outfit. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to drag her to the bathroom and pull that skirt up. How was I expected to aim while my thoughts were running out of control.

“Here you areeeee!” Satou’s voice interrupts the moment, making me stumble backwards and letting go of the girl in my arms realising how close I’d been to losing control and leaning down to kiss her.

Satou hugs both me and Iz, looking around for the couple of the hour who have suddenly disappeared. “Where the lovebirds at?” She asks, holding a wrapped present in her hands. I chuckle shrugging but Zari lets out a giggle.

“Last I saw them they were getting pretty cosy,” she laughs, leaning into my side whether on purpose or on accident I’m not sure. But it leaves my skin tingling.

“No one’s surprised,” Satou laughs, waving her friend over. “Savannah, this is Paige and… Izara, right?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct before Iz can even say a word. From my peripheral vision I see her head snap to me, eyes growing softer as they land on me. I could tell she was happy with me, which made me want to get on my knees and beg for her to let me serve her forever. Okay, no, let me get a grip.

“Whassup,” I nod at Savannah, who smiles at both me and Izzie. Suddenly, the girl beside me stumbles as someone bumps into her, crashing straight into me.

“Woah,” I grab a hold of her, my hand naturally landing on the small of her back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she giggles, watching me and her nose scrunching as her face twists into a laugh. The sparkling eyeshadow covering her eyelids makes her shine even more, curled strands falling onto her face out of the updo her long, dark hair is in. She looks so beautiful I feel breathless, even more so up close.

“You want a drink ma? I could use one,” I ask, staring into the green of her eyes, feeling the alcohol too much to realise that our faces are only inches away at this point.

She rolls her eyes. “Paige, I hate that nickname.”

“Do you want a drink or not woman?” I ask annoyed, teasing her. But her face hardens, and her eyes sharpen.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is hard and serious, making my lower abdomen flip. As inappropriate as it feels, I’m exceptionally turned on.

I swallow, biting my lower lip. “Uh…”

“Woman?” She interrupts me, furrowing her brows. I can feel heat pooling between my legs, making my mind spin.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice coming out shaky from how flustered my thoughts had turned me.

“What’s that?” She asks, brows rising as she watches my mouth expectantly.

“I’m sorry Izzie,” I say louder, my chest heaving now. To my surprise, I notice her breathing is growing heavy too.

“Mhm, that’s better,” she nods, eyes still on my mouth as I bite down on my lower lip. And for just a second, as my eyes flicker from her eyes to her glossed lips, I consider leaning in and pressing a kiss on them, mind jumping to how she might taste. Like heaven I bet.

“So a drink then?” Iz asks, interrupting my spinning thoughts.

“Oh right, yeah,” I compose myself, “we’ll be right back.”

We leave Satou and Savannah alone, my hand on the small of Izara’s back guiding her through the people to the kitchen island.

“What do we want to drink?” The girl asks, looking at the row of bottles lining the counter. I lean in even closer to her side, letting my hand drag from her back to around her waist. The girl’s breath hitches audibly, yet she doesn’t pull back.

“Shots! Now!” Arike suddenly interrupts us, Lala following close behind her.

“Bro where you been?” I ask, watching as she begins to pour shots of vodka for all four of us. Her and Lala exchange a look that tells me I don’t want to know the answer to my question.

“Nevermind,” I mumble, making Izzie giggle, the alcohol finally loosening her up.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” the dark haired girl shakes her head, pushing the shot away.

“Oh c’mooonnn!!” I groan, pushing it back.

“Yeah Zari, c’mon,” Rike complains.

I pick up my own shot glass, and Izara’s as well, bringing it to her lips. She’s considering, meeting my gaze, until her pretty lips open and I tip the glass, pouring the shot into her mouth as I throw my head back, swallowing mine.

“Holy shit,” I cough, making everyone around me laugh, looking at the dark haired girl whose face doesn’t even twitch from the alcohol. Damn.

“And another oneeee,” Arike laughs, now pouring tequila into the glasses, clearly trying to get us two drunk. I glare at her, picking up on what she was up to. But Rike merely winks at me, handing us salt and lemon slices.

“Oh boy,” Izara chuckles, eyeing the alcohol. I follow closely as her tongue darts out to lick her wrist, my mind spinning with dirty thoughts involving that tongue between my le-

“Lemon!” The girl yelps, squeezing her eyes shut having taken the shot. I quickly grab the slice from the counter, holding Izzie’s face still by her chin as I place the wedge between her lips. Her teeth bite into it, sucking on the bitter fruit to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

Her dark lashes flutter open, and she pulls away with a grin. “Your turn.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling my tongue already growing numb from the alcohol, my speech certainly beginning to slur soon.

“Yo Zari, you should let Paige lick the salt from your wrist,” Arike yells from the opposite side of the counter, earning a slap on the shoulder from Lala.

“Huh?” Izara laughs, turning to the pair.

“Ignore her, God knows I do,” Lala rolls her eyes.

Flustered, I fumble with the salt shaker, licking it off my hand and downing the shot of tequila, feeling the burn in my throat making me want to cough. To my surprise, Iz brings the slice of lemon to my lips, the bitter taste putting an end to the burn.

I can feel the alcohol hitting, making my cheeks burn - or maybe it’s the way the dark haired girl is looking at me, her eyes even more catlike than normal, sparkling in the dimmed lighting. Either way I can feel my brain and mouth beginning to slow down, yet my words and actions seem simultaneously sped up, like I couldn’t think them through before doing.

“I’mma admit, I’m drunk as fuck,” I laugh, making Izara throw her head back and let out a bright chuckle, grabbing onto my shoulder as she does. Fuck she looks hotter than usual, the hard, poised exterior breaking, letting me catch little glimpses into her internal life, reminiscent of the softness on her face when she fell asleep on me.

“Let’s run away before Arike makes us take more shots,” she whispers and simultaneously somehow screams, grabbing my arm and dragging me down behind the island, as if Arike and Lala weren’t standing right on the other side, watching the two of us. Still I let her, crouching behind it and letting her drag me wherever she wants to.

I love Dallas! Or maybe I should reconsider when I’m sober, but now that the shots and drinks had been flowing, I had decided I loved Dallas for certain. Paige and I have been hiding behind a corner, by the entrance to Arike’s and Lala’s bedroom, for the past hour, giggling and talking. I’ve realised Paige might be one of my favourite people I’ve ever met, the strain in my abs a reminder of how easily she made me laugh. How effortless it was to spend time with her, like I didn’t have to put up any exterior or front. I felt comfortable being myself with her. So naturally, in my drunken state, the words slip from my lips easily.

“You’re like, my favourite person right now,” I giggle, leaning my back against the cool wall and watching upwards at her. Paige’s eyes are heavy and red as a result of the alcohol, hair somehow still neatly slicked back, however a button on her chest left unbuttoned, displaying that she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra under the shirt.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a proud smirk on her face. She’s standing in front of me, arms crossed.

“Don’t let it get into your head darling,” I scoff, pushing her off by her abdomen, feeling the muscles there tighten when my fingertips graze her through the shirt. For whatever reason I’d been wanting her to touch me all night, enjoying the times she wrapped her arm around my waist, or guided me through a crowd. It felt good to be touched, so I didn’t worry about what it meant further. I just wanted her hands on me. Like you’d want to hug a friend after remembering how much you love them.

“Why do you get to have all these nicknames but I don’t get to call you ma?” She asks, stumbling back but returning to her prior position, if not a little closer. I place my hands on her waist, having to tilt my head to look at her - that’s how close she is.

“Why do you want to call me ma?”

“Because,” she groans, looking for something to say. “Ion know it suits you.”

“Why?” I laugh.

“Because you’re sexy.”

I’m drunk. And I know it’s because I’m drunk. It has to be. But I can feel myself begin to throb between my legs when Paige says those words, when her teeth bite onto her bottom lip, when she looks me up and down. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of the swirling in my lower abdomen, the heat spreading straight to my core.

The blonde rubs the bridge of her nose. “Ahh shit Iz, I didn’t mean it like that. My bad. You just look really damn good. In like a friend wa-”

“You think I look sexy?”

It’s like my mouth and brain aren’t working together, the words just forming and leaving my lips without a single thought or action to stop them. For some reason it comes out almost whiny. Like I want her opinion, her reassurance.

Paige looks surprised, clenching her jaw before kissing her teeth and licking her lips, hands twitching as if for something to touch.

“I meannn… you really gotta ask that?” She says hoarsely, stepping closer and placing her hands on my hips. It feels good, but I want more, pushing my body off the wall and pressing my front against her. The sparks are immediate, and I nearly groan at the contact.

“You didn’t answer,” I demand, staring into the blues of her eyes. Only then I realise how blue they really are, like a turquoise ocean against a sandy beach, inviting, beautiful. My heart begins to pound, even more so when I feel Paige’s hands move from my waist, downwards to my hips, to the small of my back, and finally to my ass.

“Perfect,” she coos.

The breath she lets out is heavy, loud, but I barely register, my mouth parting a little. To say the chills travelling through my body are overwhelming would be an understatement, my mind suddenly spinning with realisation of something I’d been feeling for a while, yet only recognised now.

“Is this okay?” Paige asks, making me nod my head. When I do so I feel the blonde’s hands squeeze just a little, forcing a breathy whimper to spill from my lips. Overcome with the urge to be even closer to her, I wrap my arms around the girl’s broad shoulders and lean my head into the crook of her neck, my body slotting against hers just right. It feels euphoric.

“Baby I would leave too if I was Paige, that poor girl got to deal with you on a daily basis alr-”

Suddenly Lala’s voice grows louder as she turns the corner, Arike on her tail.

“Oh, sorry y’all,” the woman gasps seeing us embracing, Paige’s hands resting on my ass. Embarrassed, I pull away, nearly pushing the blonde off of me.

“Uh, I need a drink,” I murmur, my thoughts moving so quickly they make no sense, not even entirely sure what just happened in a drunken hue.

“Yoooo,” I hear Arike snickering, and Lala shutting her up.

Paige follows close behind me all the way back to the kitchen island, people around the apartment now notably drunker, louder, stumbling into each other. “You aight?”

“Yeah, yes. I am,” I murmur, pouring whatever booze there was in reach into a glass and downing it, attempting to calm the running thoughts trying to make sense of all of this.

“You sure ma?”

Fuck. The nickname. Suddenly it’s making my core burn, and I feel arousal pooling between my legs almost uncomfortably. Maybe that nickname wasn’t so bad. Maybe it got me so hot and bothered I could barely think. Maybe I wanted her to call me that and only that for the rest of my life.

“Mm, I’m sure,” I mumble, turning to look at the tall blonde beside me, the way some of the buttons on her shirt have come undone, the way she’s eyeing me back, her veiny hands wrapping around a bottle as she pours herself another drink, the chains on her neck, dangling into her shirt. It’s then when I realise - I want to fuck Paige Bueckers.

“Here you are, Paige! Have you seen Satou?” Savannah interrupts us, but my eyes are still stuck on the blonde next to me.

“No, I got no idea where she is sorry.”

“What about your girlfriend, she seen her?”

Suddenly my eyes snap from Paige to the stranger leaning over the island, blinking stupidly.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” I say sternly, my tone harder than it needs to be. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.

“Wh- oh shit, I’m sorry. You two just seem like a coup-”

“We’re not together,” Paige interrupts her, clearly picking up on my stress levels rising. I feel the room spinning, my breathing growing shallow, my cheeks burning up.

Lala, who had been watching me and the blonde all night, swiftly walks over and grabs me by the waist. “Come with me baby,” she coos, her voice caring and affectionate as she walks me into the couple’s bedroom, closing the door behind us, separating me from everything causing the engulfing emotions.

“Sit down Zari, I’ll get you some water.”

I do as the older woman says, feeling embarrassed, just praying to any God that I didn’t cause a scene. I could feel my head spinning still, the effect from the alcohol still flowing in my bloodstream.

Lala returns and hands me a glass. I chug it down, handing it back to the woman and staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Lala asks, sitting next to me and following me closely. I rub my forehead, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m more drunk than I realised,” I murmur but the woman shakes your head.

“I think it’s more than that, Zari.”

I look at her, a knowing expression on the woman’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Paige isn’t it, you like her?”

I sigh, not even sure how to answer that question. Not sure at all what the feelings swirling inside me meant.

“I… I just think I’m drunk-”

“She likes you,” Lala interrupts me. I take her words in, blinking slowly as I do. Paige likes me?

“How do you know?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. Something about the older woman made me feel safe.

Lala chuckles, shaking her head. “I think everybody knows baby.”

Oh.

I’m speechless for once, staring at the wall, recounting every interaction I had ever had with the blonde girl. My friend. Could she really like me? Worse of all, have I led her on?

“Look, just be careful alright. Don’t give her the wrong idea if… you know, you don’t feel the same,” Lala rubs my shoulders, like reading my thoughts. It all confused me, my feelings most of all - and deep deep down I wasn’t sure about what I felt, my mind an entangled, confusing pile of perplexity.

“Hey you alright?” Paige murmurs to me, pressing into my back as I’m pouring myself more water in the kitchen after my little breather. My body is covered in chills once more by her proximity - which must be a sign I like her at least a little bit. Or maybe I’m just needy for someone to touch me. I was drunk after all, and it had been a while. But then again, these chills always occurred when the blonde’s hands were on me, sometimes even when they were not. Just a simple look was enough.

“Yeah, I felt a little dizzy. Feel better now though,” I murmur, finishing another glass of water.

Paige hesitates, chewing on her cheek, clearly in her head as I turn around and notice her expression. “I didn’t do too much ri-”

“Here you are!! I love this song, come dance!” A drunk Satou interrupts the moment, dragging both me and the blonde into the living room, not giving us much choice in the matter.

“Song’s almost over,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me as I shrug but follow the two hoopers.

“Who cares, I love it!” Satou laughs. We’re surrounded by a few others, dancing to the Drake song echoing around the apartment. As the beat fades out, I hear the soft melody of What You Heard by Sonder take over.

“Nooo, boo, I’mma go ask for more Drake,” Satou murmurs, walking off, leaving me and Paige alone.

Our gazes meet and we chuckle at the same time at the girl who just left, clearly even drunker than me and Paige.

“Fuck your mind up, waste time, I'm prone to that, do it all the time, Keep your guard up or wait in line”

“This song is actually fire,” Paige grins and I nod.

“It is.”

I take a dip in her blue eyes, finding comfort in them as the song plays, not at all shocked when Paige steps closer and grabs a hold of my waist, swaying with me. The alcohol is still pumping through my veins, making it easy to wrap my arms around her neck without thinking what it might mean. It felt good to be close to her, so what?

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts.”

Paige sings along to the lyrics, the tiniest bit off-key yet something about it makes me grow flustered quickly, mind flashing with images of her doing exactly what the lyrics describe.

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts, When I get you to myself, it's murder,” I sing back to Paige, our eyes meeting. Her eyelids are heavy from the drinks, and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face. Her silver chains sparkle in the dim lighting, but all I’m looking at is the way she’s staring me down.

Something about the alcohol makes me bold, pressing my body closer to hers, my fingernails scratching into the back of her neck gently, watching as her eyes nearly flutter shut at the contact.

“You be wildin', I be wildin', too, But not like you, shit, maybe a little like you, Maybe we ain't so different, maybe I be trippin', too,” we sing to each other, the blonde’s thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as we dance together. I feel the burn from earlier spread to my core once more, making it hard to think clearly.

Our faces are inching closer, to the point where I can feel her hot breath on my skin. My heart begins to pound and it becomes difficult to keep my eyes open. Paige licks her lips, leaning downwards. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me, the distance between us growing smaller and smaller - until she ghosts my lips, turning her face, mouth hovering right over my ear, warm breath tickling against my skin.

“If he was a winner, Girl, you wouldn't have to worry 'bout a damn thing, If I was up in it, shit, I bet a pound that I'd put it down, Make you forget that you was ever with him,” she murmurs into my ear with the lyrics of the song, left hand staying on my hip, right hand coming up to the back of my head to hold it still as we keep swaying to the melody.

I feel flustered, my cheeks growing hotter and my core aching for something. No, not for something - for Paige.

“And I hate talking 'bout my stroke game, But girl, I'm giving you the whole thing,” she murmurs with a deep, hoarse voice, my body tingling and on fire at the same time.

Turning my face, my nose brushes into the blonde’s, but I’m too scared to open my eyes, too scared that if I do I’ll start thinking again, realising how senseless this entire situation is.

Paige’s nose nuzzles mine, and I can hear the shallowness of her breathing, her hand at the back of my head maneuvering me in a way so our lips are hovering over each other. I feel like I might pass out, my heart trying to race out of my chest at this point.

“Paige, Zari, I finally found herrrr!” Satou shouts over the crowd, making both of us pull away. My eyes shoot open and I see the girl holding her friend Savannah.

“Oh! Good!” I smile awkwardly, Paige’s hands still on me.

“Jesus…” The blonde murmurs to herself, looking around clearly frustrated by the unwelcome interruption. “You wanna go to the balcony for, uh, some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” I nod, without thinking. I let the tall girl walk me onto the balcony, closing the door behind us.

Fresh air it is not, the weather a hot and humid warning for the approaching scorching Dallas summer. But it still feels right to be alone with Paige, under the dark Texas sky. I glance upwards, looking at the stars to avoid meeting the blonde’s stare.

“So damn hot,” Paige groans, unbuttoning her shirt even more to get more airflow, though I couldn’t care less. I’m only gazing at the way the chains on her neck rest against her skin.

“Yeah, it certainly is,” I mumble, leaning my back against the glass railing.

Paige looks at me with something I can’t recognise, her expression softening as she’s taking steps towards me. “Fuck, that accent,” she murmurs, her hands easily finding their way to my waist again.

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

She shrugs. “I dunno, I just love hearing you talk.”

I chuckle, bringing my hand to her chest and playing with the chain there, number 5 dangling off it. Paige grins too, continuing.

“And the things you say too.”

I scoff, displeased. “Like what?”

“I dunno! British things!”

“British things??” I ask, laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt, my fingers still fiddling the number 5.

“Like… Taking the piss!” She laughs, leaning closer. I bend forward too, my face scrunching as pearls of giggles spill from my mouth.

“Oh my God, you’re so stupid,” I murmur in a blur of joy, my hand snaking behind her head. In the haze of the alcohol and the giggles and the newfound feelings, before I can think it through, I’m pulling her down by the chain and her head, leaning closer and kissing her.

It’s heaven. Every nerve in my body is on fire. The blonde’s lips open for me, slowly but sensually sliding against mine. My legs feel weak, and my nails dig into the skin of her neck, a whimper leaving my mouth but she swallows it, groaning in response. Her hands squeeze my waist before moving to my face, landing on my jaw to keep me as close as possible - like she might die if I pull away.

I’m pressed closer to the glass behind my back as the kiss grows hungrier. Paige’s mouth opens further, her tongue darting out to slide against my lower lip, begging for entry with a small whine slipping from the blonde’s mouth. It’s like everything pent up was finally releasing, something I didn’t even know was there, bubbling right underneath the surface. My tongue meets Paige’s, both of us melting into the kiss. I feel like putty in her hands, like she could mold me whichever way possible. This is the best kiss I’ve ever experienced, I know that for sure. Jasper always kissed in such a stiff, forceful way. Right. Jasper.

It takes me back to the moment, as if for a sliver of a second I can think clearly. What the fuck am I doing. This isn’t me. I haven’t thought this through at all. I’m leading Paige on.

Abruptly I pull back for air, the taller girl already dragging me back into another kiss needily. But I push Paige back by her chest, stopping her. We’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other. What the fuck am I doing.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” I mumble, shoving her off me as gently as I can, saying quick goodbyes to Lala and Arike before practically running down the stairs and throwing myself into a cab, leaving Paige upstairs as if nothing happened. The only proof of the night’s events merely the way my lips still burn and tingle, and my racing heart and swirling mind trying to make sense of everything.

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