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dont-offend-the-bees · 4 months ago

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No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It

Took a break from the big, soul-consuming, expansive multichapter fic to write... a big, soul-consuming, expansive one-shot. Look, I swear it was MEANT to be short and sweet, Charles just decided to have a self-confidence crisis all over it and then the bloody CAT KING showed up, it all went a bit mad.

Anyway, no major warnings at hand. Charles-typical self esteem issues and teen angst. There's jealousy aspects, but they don't really drive the story/get together, it's more of a side factor. This fic also flirts a little bit with Catwin and the romantic/flirtatious potential there, but it's Payneland endgame. No smut, some making out! Have fun!

9k words, also up on Ao3 (need to be signed in to read!)

"Edwin?"

"Yes, Charles?"

Charles waited until Edwin looked up from his notebook. Once he had his attention, Charles directed it upward with a nod of his head and a flick of his eyes.

Edwin followed his gaze, with a little bewildered frown. "What is it?"

"Well." Charles shrugged. "Mistletoe, innit?"

Edwin's eyebrow twitched upwards. "... Yes. Well identified, Charles."

Charles chuckled, ducking his head. Wasn't always easy to tell when Edwin was genuinely lost and when he was just winding Charles up. He sidled up a little closer, nudging Edwin with his elbow. "C'mon. You know the tradition, yeah?"

Edwin looked up once more, eyes widening a bit as understanding dawned. "Oh," he said, lowering his notebook. "Yes, I do recall..." he cleared his throat, straightening his bow tie one-handed. "Is that still... observed? In this day and age?"

"I mean, it's pretty optional, but." He shrugged again. "It's nice?"

"I suppose as traditions go, it's rather..." Edwin mulled it over, with a thoughtful hum. "Quaint."

"So. You, um." Another shrug. Charles felt a bit like he couldn't keep his shoulders under control — like they were just gonna drop off and roll across the floor any minute. He tried to channel some of his nervous energy into tugging his earlobe instead. "You up for it, then?"

Edwin regarded him, like he does; all placid and cool and dead handsome with the light behind him like that. He looked good under fairy lights — who knew? They should crash office Christmas parties for cases more often. His smile, when it came, was small and a bit sly, and it made Charles feel all sort of gooey in the middle.

Then Edwin leaned in, and screw gooey, Charles felt like there were fireworks going off in his chest. He closed his eyes, tilted his head. His lips parted and —

And something quick, dry, and chaste brushed gently against his cheek like the tip of a bird's wing; there and gone in a flutter.

Charles blinked his eyes open, bleary, and found Edwin already back where he'd started. Spine straight, eyes ahead, jotting madly in his notebook.

"Thank you, Charles. A very pleasant distraction." He frowned as he consulted his page, eyes flicking between it and the room. "Although I have rather lost the thread of my observations... We might be stuck here a little while yet."

Charles had a tingling feeling on his cheek, a sense of mild disappointment in his gut, and no idea what to do with his hands or arms.

He settled on another shrug. Fourth time's the charm. "Got nowhere else to be, have we?"

The thing is, Charles had been doing some thinking. No, scratch that, Charles had been doing lots of thinking. More thinking than he'd ever done about just about anything else. Mulling over some thoughts, some feelings.

And the upshot was this. He was almost completely, nearly definitely, ninety nine percent certain that he was head over heels, arse over tit in love with Edwin Payne. And that was brills! Sound! Nothing wrong with that at all!

Thing is, he was having a bit of a problem with that pesky one percent.

With anyone else in the world, ninety nine percent? Good enough. More than good enough. He was pretty sure people out there had gotten married on sixty or less. Sometimes you just roll the dice, snog someone you think is a bit fit, and go from there. But Edwin wasn't just anyone, was he? Edwin was Edwin. 'Best mate' was too mild for what Edwin was; Edwin was his person. Most important person in his life and death combined. He couldn't just go for it, could he? Best case scenario: they snog, they get together, and it's all aces forever and ever.

Worst case scenario: it's Kelly Daniels all over again, only worse.

Kelly was a mate of his in primary school. Actually, she was his best mate. They did everything together. Played outside for hours, hiding from his shit dad and her drunk uncle. Stayed best mates well into secondary, even after Charles got sent off to that snobby boys' school and they could only meet up on the weekends. Had a load of firsts together — first cig, first beer, first piercing. First kiss.

Seemed like a good idea at the time. She was proper into him, and he thought he was into her, too. Why wouldn't he be? He loved her, and she was gorgeous, and there was no one else he'd rather spend his time with. Why wouldn't he be in love with her?

Except when they kissed, it felt... not like anything, really. And he'd tried again because maybe the first one was always a bit rubbish. Maybe they weren't doing it right. But still, nothing. No heart racing, no sparks, no butterflies. He didn't see what everyone had been going on about. He definitely didn't want to kiss her again. Snogging her felt like... like snogging his sister, or something. He couldn't find any romance in it.

But she could. And when he told her he didn't want to do it again she cried and ran home. Next weekend, she didn't meet him at their spot — and when he risked getting caught using the phone to call her, her uncle told him she didn't wanna talk to him.

And that was just sort of. It. His first friend, his best friend, gone in a blink. All because he didn't know what he wanted and he took a stupid chance anyway.

What happened with Kelly was sad; if the same thing happened with Edwin, it'd be devastating. Honestly, he might as well just move on to his afterlife at that point, because that was it. He wasn't doing this ghost bollocks without Edwin by his side, end of.

So obviously, that one percent was bloody haunting him. Because he'd been sure before, and it all blew up in his face. Where was the line between someone you wanted to be with forever, and someone you wanted to be with forever? He couldn't just go on looks, could he? Anyone with eyes could see Edwin was fit, but that didn’t necessarily translate to wanting to snog him, did it? And obviously, loving him as a person didn’t make it a given, either.

If he could love someone but not be in love with them, how was he supposed to know the difference without diving in headfirst? And how was he supposed to do that without trampling all over Edwin’s feelings if his hunch turned out to be wrong? He couldn't. He had to know, first. Edwin already knew his side, and he'd told him so. Now the ball was in Charles' court, and he wasn't kicking it back without a proper answer. But he didn't have one, and he didn't have any evidence to go on, either.

Not yet, anyway.

It was pretty obvious to Charles what he needed to make up that last percent.

He needed to kiss Edwin. A proper kiss, on the lips. Just to see how it felt. See if he really liked him how he thought he did. Easy enough, yeah?

Well, not really. He had to make it happen, somehow. It's not like he could just ask Edwin to kiss him. He didn't wanna get his hopes up, did he? Didn't wanna lead him on and disappoint him. What if Charles didn't feel that way, and he fucked up the best thing he ever had because he didn't know what he wanted — as bloody usual?

Luckily, Charles was a Dead Boy Detective. Gathering evidence was his bread and butter! He'd been honing his investigative skills for a puzzle just like this. It was like coaxing the facts out of a stubborn witness; a little cunning, a side of charm, finesse it a bit, and they'd spill their guts.

He had a new case, a secret case: find a sneaky, innocuous, totally above-board reason for Edwin to snog him. Then he'd know, for sure. Confirm the hunch, crack the case — find out if he was as gone for Edwin as he thought.

Edwin was dead smart, was the only thing. Smart, and still pretty stuffy — even if he'd loosened up some since Port Townsend. He wasn't just gonna kiss Charles over any little thing. And if Charles slipped up, made it obvious, Edwin would be onto him in a second.

One thing was for sure: whatever Charles did, it needed to be subtle.

"Mate," said Charles, swanning in the door with a grin from ear to ear. "You are gonna wanna snog me silly when I tell you what I just found."

Absolutely smashed it.

Edwin raised an unimpressed eyebrow from behind the desk. "A bold statement," he said, setting his book aside and crossing his legs. "I'll be the judge of that."

Charles might've tripped over his own feet, like, a little bit. Bloody hell. Edwin needed to stop being so fit or Charles was gonna forget the plan and lay one on him right here, right now. "What? You think I'm exaggerating?" he said, finding his feet and bounding on over.

"You do have form," said Edwin. He steepled his fingers neatly on the desk, wry smile on his lips. "Your enthusiasm has been known to get the better of you."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Charles teased, affecting the mock posh lilt that Edwin always rolled his eyes at. He hopped up on the desk and brought his knee up on it, so's to angle himself towards Edwin. "Trust me, you'll love it. C'mon, eyes shut, hands out!"

Edwin looked unconvinced, but his smile didn't budge. He did as he was told, eyes closed, hands open. And alright, maybe Charles took a moment to just sort of look at his face in the sunlight for a moment. Sue him.

Carefully, Charles reached into his bag and pulled out the box. It was a battered old thing, but considering where it'd been, it was in bang-up shape. He placed it in Edwin's hands, with ceremony. "Alright, open up!"

Edwin opened his eyes and looked at the box in mild bemusement. "How... beautifully wrapped," he quipped.

Charles snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Go on, have a look inside."

Edwin set the box down on the desk and deftly untied the fraying string. He lifted the lid to reveal a bundle of papers — old, yellowed, a bit curly at the edges, but pretty in good nick all things considered! Most importantly, the writing was legible. Rows of neat typeface, with pen scribbles and corrections here and there. Charles wasn't really looking at them, though — he was watching Edwin's face as he mouthed the title. His eyes widened and his lips froze when he reached the author's name.

"I haven't read this one," he said, incredulous. "I've read all of Futrelle's works — how did this one pass me by?"

"Passed everyone by," said Charles, with a casual shrug and a barely repressed smirk. "Went down with him on the Titanic."

Edwin goggled at him. "Explain."

"Well, it's a funny story," said Charles breezily, crossing his arms. Edwin's undivided attention on him was a hell of a feeling. He was preening, and he didn't even care. "Went on a walk, got chatting with a ghost on the docks. She was in a bit of a jam, see, needed some family heirloom to move on. Only problem is, the thing went down on the ship, didn't it? With some great uncle who died there, same as old Jacques.

"So, I put her onto that nice bloke we met a few years ago — case of the drowned diver, remember? Still hasn't moved on, believe it or not — I think he's chuffed about having all eternity to explore the sea. Asked him if he'd do us a favour. So he found the boat, dredged up the safe her family and a few other rich folks used. She dug out her trinket, lobbed the rest at me to say thanks. Gave most of it to Dave, obviously, I mean he did the hard work. But when I saw this..."

He tapped the side of the box with a satisfied grin. "Well. No way I wasn't bringing Jacques Futrelle's last stories back home for us, was I?"

Edwin, for once in his life, seemed to be completely and utterly at a loss for words.

Charles bit his lip. Played it cool. "So," he teased. "Have I earned that snog, or what?"

"Charles," said Edwin — with one of his rare, big, fucking beautiful smiles, the one that showed his teeth. "You have earned a knighthood."

He stood up from his chair, quick as a flash, and planted a firm kiss on Charles' cheek.

Charles only just resisted the urge to cry out a little to the left, you bastard!

"I must read these immediately," Edwin gushed, lifting the stack of paper from the box with reverence. "Or I suppose, rightfully, you should read them first... no, nonsense, we'll read them together. Hm, we'll have to find a way to conserve these pages. Perhaps there's an enchantment in one of my spellbooks... for now, we'll just have to take precautions. Well, no time like the present; we have just closed that case with the haunted ice cream parlour. I'd say we've earned the afternoon off!"

He patted Charles' arm with childlike enthusiasm. "Settle in, Charles — I'm simply dying to know what sort of scrape the Thinking Machine is going to puzzle his way out of, this time..."

Charles laughed; mostly at himself for thinking this would play out any other way. Still, wasn't a total dead loss, was it?

He flopped down over the desk, folding his hands behind his head. Closed his eyes as Edwin's crisp, clear reading voice filled the room with words the world might never have heard.

No kiss, then. But not a half bad substitute.

So, mistletoe was a bust, and so were long lost books by dead mystery writers. He'd sort of expected the first one not to work, but the second one? That was a tough gesture to top, really, wasn't it?

Since impossible manuscripts didn't grow on trees, he was back to taking smaller swings for the time being. Luckily, with Christmas behind them, that meant another handy holiday tradition round the corner. Maybe if he played his cards right, he'd get lucky this time.

"Oh, honestly," said Edwin, in a bitchy tone. "What is this fixation the culture has with socially mandated kissing in the depths of winter?"

Off to a great start.

"Just nice, really, innit?" Charles laughed, leaning back against the low brick wall. They'd tagged along with Niko and Crystal to their college campus for the new year celebrations. He thought they'd spend the night getting just walked through by oblivious gangs of tipsy undergrads. But actually, there was a pretty decent mix of living and dead at this thing. Edwin had spent most of the night chatting away with some dowdy old English professor haunting the duck pond. But the clock was ticking down, so Charles had grabbed Edwin's hand and hauled him back to the quad for the fireworks. He wasn't about to lose a prime kissing opportunity to some — no offence — stuffy old bloke and his poetry readings. "Not exactly new, is it? People have been snogging to celebrate stuff since the dawn of time, haven't they?"

Edwin sighed. "Well. Yes, technically, I suppose the tradition has roots as far back as ancient Rome, at the very least. Arguably, the same could be said for mistletoe." He scowled. "Saturnalia has much to answer for."

"Those bloody Romans, at it again." Charles scuffed his heel against the wall. Edwin was a little riled up — must be the noise, the people. Charles was gonna have to be delicate. "Still. Nice to be included, yeah? Sort of the point of traditions, innit? Feel like a part of something. Part of the human race."

Edwin looked at him, and the hard furrow of his brows softened. "Yes," he said, quietly. "I suppose there is that..."

He had that look in his eyes. The one he got sometimes when Charles had made him sad, but he was too polite and uncomfortable to say anything. It wasn't pity, exactly, but. It wasn't miles off.

Charles fucking hated that look. Made him want to smile harder and laugh louder, and point out something interesting that would get Edwin's attention off him. Get him smiling again.

Then again... maybe he'd been going about this all wrong. With the smiling and laughing and teasing. Edwin wasn't gonna snog him for a laugh, but... would he do it out of pity?

Charles looked from Edwin's eyes, to his lips, then back again. Opened his mouth to pop the question:

"Edwin!" came an eager voice from off-side.

Fucking brills.

They both turned towards the voice. Niko was trotting towards them, bobbing through the crowd like a fluorescent pink balloon. She had booze-warmed cheeks to match, and all. Her hand was laced through Crystal's, who was trailing in her wake with a wry smile and a plastic cup.

"Niko," Edwin greeted, smile blooming. The Niko Face, Charles called it. Sort of the way you'd look at an adorable hamster; if the hamster was also a genius who could give you a run for your money in a game of chess. "Are you enjoying the festivities?"

"Edwin, it's almost midnight!" she said, bouncing on her heels. "You know what that means?"

"Yes, Charles has been enlightening me on the traditions," he said.

Her mouth popped open in a little 'o', then widened into a knowing smile. "Ohhhh — were you guys gonna kiss?"

Fuck.

"Um," Charles fumbled.

"Just making conversation," said Edwin, easily, with a pat to Charles' shoulder.

"Oh. Okay — wait, that's awesome, actually. Edwin, I kinda wanted to ask you something..."

He cocked his head. "Oh?"

Charles' heart sank.

"Well I was thinking; do you remember when we talked about the starfish? Before the washer woman showed up and made everything weird and ominous?"

Edwin chuckled. "I do recall, yes."

She smiled, cheeks dimpling. She looked a little wobbly, like she'd been on the alcopops, but her eyes were bright and smart as ever. "You were so nice, when I told you I'd never been kissed. And I still haven't! And I know you have been, now, with Monty —"

Charles started, staring wide-eyed at Edwin. That was new information.

"But it's gonna be midnight soon," Niko carried right on, oblivious. "And you're my friend, and I like you, and I thought: wouldn't it be cool if Edwin was my first kiss?"

Fuck.

"So," she clapped her hands together, touching her fingers to her smiling lips. "D'you wanna kiss? As friends? I wanna, if you wanna!"

"Well. It is a tad unorthodox," said Edwin. But he was smiling, soft and gently blindsided, and Charles didn't stand a chance. "But I would be honoured."

Bloody typical.

Niko clapped her hands together with glee. It was adorable, unfortunately. No amount of being ticked off at her for swooping in and pinching his kiss made it less so.

"Thought you weren't a fan of the kissing traditions," Charles mumbled.

Over Niko's shoulder, Crystal narrowed her eyes and gave him a look.

"I daresay there's room for exceptions," said Edwin. By this point his hands were in Niko's, being pushed back and forth in a little dance. "How does this work, exactly? Are we supposed to share this kiss during the countdown?"

"After — I'll give you the signal," said Niko, conspiratorially.

Charles left them to it. Not much else to say, was there?

"You're still doing your stupid plan, aren't you?"

Charles glowered at her platform boots. He knew he'd regret letting Crystal in on it. "It's not stupid."

"Fine, then. Crazy plan. You're a crazy person."

"Oi, you lot are always telling me I should think things through more. Look before I leap?"

"This is overthinking, Charles." She sighed, throwing her hands up. "Whatever. I'm not gonna change your mind, so. Why bother, right?"

She sat on the bench next to him, staring out across the empty duck pond side by side. Stuffy professor bloke must've gone to join the party for the countdown — Charles wondered who he'd be snogging.

Crystal leaned in, and bumped his shoulder. "Are you really gonna sit here and mope while all your friends are back there having fun? Are you that pissed at Niko?"

Guilt knocked Charles like a cricket bat to the knees. "No. No, 'course not." And that's the thing, wasn't it? Obviously he wasn't pissed at Niko, not really. Who could be pissed at someone for wanting Edwin to be their first kiss? If he could replace his own stupid, friendship-destroying first kiss with Edwin, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He sighed, and rolled his shoulders. "It's sweet really, innit?"

She pulled her feet up onto the bench, hugging her knees. She was wearing loads of pretty rings tonight, suns and moons and staring eyes. They shimmered in the light from the quad like ripples on the pond. "I did try and talk her out of it," she said. "For you. But she's a little hammered, and she got like, super invested in the idea. I kinda didn't have the heart to push it."

"Cheers." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, it's alright. It's good." He smiled at her. It probably wasn't convincing, but that was alright. There was never any need to put on airs for Crystal's sake. "She deserves it."

She let her head roll back a bit, giving him a weary look. "You do, too, you know."

He looked at his feet.

Sighing, Crystal put her feet on the ground and took his hand. "C'mon. Countdown's about to start — and the cutest girl at this party is about to make out with your boyfriend, so. I'm gonna need a kissing partner."

He laughed, and let her pull him to his feet.

Crystal, he knew from experience, was a good kisser. 'Least he assumed she was. He still couldn't exactly feel it, but he knew good technique when he saw it.

So when the countdown hit zero and the campus erupted into drunken hollers of 'happy new year!', Charles laughed and wrapped his arms around her. They fell into the kind of easy, fun friend-snog that he was a bloody lucky chap to have. Giggling against each other's lips, her hands playing with his hair. All in all, not a bad way to ring in the new year.

Still, he may have taken a peek over her shoulder, as the crowd started to break into a spirited chorus of Auld Lang Syne. May have let his eyes linger on the sweet way Edwin held Niko's hands between their chests. The way his eyes closed and his smile softened as he leaned down to press the most polite, perfect, gentlemanly little lingering smooch on her lips.

If he lost track of the kiss with Crystal, of where their hands were, of when she pulled away. If he spent the rest of the night not saying much, not looking anyone in the eye. If, when he helped Edwin herd their tipsy human friends safely back to their dorm, his eyes kept wandering to the little shine on Edwin's lips, where Niko's strawberry gloss had transferred...

Well. Not anyone's business, really, was it?

So, bit of a setback, then. But Charles wasn't giving up that easy. He'd been to actual hell and back for Edwin — he could handle a few scuppered gambits!

Still, two tries at the 'tradition' angle was already pushing his luck — Charles didn't think he'd get away with a third crack at it. Besides, the next snogging holiday on the calendar was Valentine's. If he had to wait 'til fucking February to snog Edwin he was gonna lose it. Two more months just existing around Edwin at his most kissable, not kissing him? Evil. Torture. Fucking agony.

Niko might've nicked his kiss, but the whole college party thing did give him a new idea. And when they shut down the agency after a stressful case for a well-deserved night of games and good company, he spotted the perfect opportunity.

"Spin the bottle?" said Crystal, withering. "Seriously?"

Obviously, she knew exactly what his game was. But he gave her a grin anyway, silently pleading go along with it, please, I'm begging. "I've never played it. And you girls aren't half making me feel like I've missed out on some cracking uni times. C'mon, it'll be fun — we're all mates, in't we?"

"Well, I'm out," said Jenny, unfolding herself from the couch and grabbing her leather jacket. "Thanks for the eight million rounds of Clue, I guess, but I am not sitting here making out with a bunch of kids."

"Technically, Edwin's over a hundred," Charles joked.

He saw Edwin smirk over his hand of cards. "Yes, I'm remarkably well preserved."

Charles grinned, bumping their shoulders. "And I'm fifty... three? I think?"

"Fifty four," Edwin corrected.

"And we're nineteen," added Crystal.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, casting suspicious glances between Niko and Crystal. "Weren't you sixteen, like, five minutes ago?"

"You mean when we met?" asked Crystal, tone flat. "In Port Townsend?"

"Two and half years ago?" Crystal added sweetly.

Jenny closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. "Right. Now I'm leaving because I'm thinking about the passage of time, and I hate it." She shrugged on her jacket. "Have fun, kids. Don't catch any ghost STDs, or whatever."

A knock on the door interrupted their various squawking complaints. Edwin frowned. "Charles, you did put the sign on the front door?"

"Yeah, 'course I did," said Charles, with a roll of his eyes. "Some ghosts can't take a hint. I'll tell 'em to come back tomorrow."

He hopped up and followed Jenny to the door, spying a nondescript human-ish shape through the frosted glass. Jenny opened it, exchanged a cool nod with whoever it was, and went on her way. As she stepped out of his line of sight, Charles got a good look at their visitor.

"Oh. It's you," he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe with a scowl. "Thought I nailed down that cat flap."

The Cat King gave him a smug, punchable smirk. He was wearing his stupid skin-tight black leathers, hair all dark and slicked. Wearing sunglasses at night like a tosser. In his hand was a bottle of wine. "Cute. Heard there was a party."

"Oh!" Niko popped up at Charles' shoulder, and bobbed in a little almost-bow. "Hello, your highness!"

He returned it with a gracious nod and an actual, non-ironic smile. Charles didn't know his face was capable of those. "Niko."

"Niko, you invite this prick?" Charles muttered — not actually quiet enough for Whiskers not to overhear, but he wasn't trying that hard.

"I did," said Edwin, appearing at Charles' other shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at the Cat King. "Or at least I made contact, fairly recently. I don't recall disclosing any information about a party..."

"I read between the lines." The smarmy bugger leaned on the doorframe, ignoring Charles' defensive stance. Shoulder brushing up against Charles', he took off his shades, yellow eyes gobbling Edwin up like a meal. "Edwin," he said, drawing out the name like he liked the taste of it.

"Thomas," Edwin returned — and his lips twitched up at the corners. "I suppose you had better come in."

"Oh, well, if you insist," he grinned, shoving the bottle into Charles' hands as he brushed past him. "I just love games. What are we playing?"

"Charles was suggesting a game called spin the bottle. Are you familiar?"

Thomas spun on his heel, and arched both eyebrows at Charles. "Oh, I'm very familiar," he purred.

Christ, could this get any worse...?

"Thomas," said Edwin, sternly. Dead calm, considering the bottle neck was aimed at him like the barrel of a gun. "We did say no magic."

"And I am a cat of my word," Thomas swore, crossing his heart lazily. "Must be written in the stars, handsome."

Edwin's eyebrow twitched.

Thomas chuckled. "Or I'm good at spinning bottles. Nothing in the rules against that!"

Edwin hummed. "Seven in a row is impressive."

Charles glowered at the stupid bottle. "I still think he's cheating," he grumbled.

Thomas flashed eyes at him, but didn't pick Charles up on it. Why would he? He had better things to do. "Honey," he purred, slinking on his hands and knees across the circle. "I can keep this up all night..."

"Is that a threat?" said Edwin, dry as a bone — but there was a twinkle of humour in his eyes. They drifted shut, easy as you like, when Thomas tucked a finger under his chin and pressed their mouths together.

Charles squirmed in place, frustration bubbling. He didn't want to look. He didn't wanna see Edwin, with that same gentlemanly poise he'd had while kissing Niko, graciously submitting to that moggy's cheesy moves. He definitely didn't wanna see Edwin's composure crack and his breath hitch when Thomas scraped a sharp fang against his lower lip. Didn't wanna see his hands come up from their neat fold in his lap to cup, tentative, around Thomas' elbows. He didn't want to look, just like he hadn't wanted to look the first six bloody times it had happened.

But it's not like he could look away, either, could he?

Charles grabbed the bottle, snatching it from under the Cat King's boot. This might be the first time in thirty-something years he'd actually regretted sitting next to Edwin for something. Front row seats to seven kisses with this bastard wasn't exactly what he was hoping for out of this. The ones with Niko and Crystal were bad enough. "Alright, alright, don't milk it," he muttered. "My go, is it?"

Thomas broke the kiss — the sound of it grated on Charles' ears like nails on a chalkboard. "Go for it," he said, tossing Edwin a wink as he skulked back to his side of the circle. "See you in the next round."

Edwin cleared his throat, adjusting his collar.

"Charles, how long are we gonna keep doing this?" asked Crystal. Her feet were in Niko's lap and she was down to her last dregs of cider. "We've been round seven times, and there's five of us. We haven't got, like, a whole lot of combinations to work with, here."

His jaw ticked. "Yeah, but. Got a few more yet, haven't we?"

Seven spins, and Charles had managed to snog Crystal twice and Niko three times. He'd landed the bottle on himself twice. Seven spins of this stupid bottle, and Charles hadn't managed to land it on Edwin once.

Crystal groaned, flopping back on the floor with her arms over her face. "Fucking guys," she muttered.

Niko, who had one hand on Crystal's ankle and the other in a bag of crisps, shrugged. "I'm cool with it."

Charles ignored them both. He sized up his spin, took a steadying breath, and let it loose. The bottle whirled round and round, the low office light flashing off it. Rippling in slower and slower rotations 'til it landed, pointed squarely at...

The Cat King grinned, slow and insufferable. "If you wanna take the forfeit on this one, kiddo, I won't be offended." He shrugged. "I'll question your taste, but I won't be offended."

Edwin bit his lip, probably to hold back laughter, and looked away from them both.

Charles scowled. "Sod this," he said, chucking the bottle at the growing pile for recycling. "Let's play Monopoly."

There was a bright side, to having to spend the rest of the night with Thomas hanging off Edwin's arm like a trophy wife. And that bright side was watching him lose at Monopoly, badly. The game ended sometime after one in the morning, when Thomas swatted the pieces off the board for the third time and no one could be bothered to reset. Charles had been losing just as bad, half his cash sunk into Niko's indomitable real estate empire, but at least he wasn't getting stroppy about it.

After that, seemed everyone agreed it was the right time to call it quits. Crystal and Niko bundled up in their winter coats, hugged their goodbyes, and got going. Charles would've walked them back to their digs, but they could look after one another alright. He was more concerned about leaving Edwin and that bloody cat alone together. He didn't like the way they were hovering in the doorway, like they were saying goodbye at the end of a date.

"You've come a long way," said Edwin. "I take it you've methods of getting back to Port Townsend tonight?"

Thomas opened his mouth, a glint in his eye. Charles smacked it down with a glare over Edwin's shoulder. Didn't want him getting any ideas about trotting out some excuse to stay the night. Thomas clocked it, and gave a dramatic sigh.

"Pfft. What's a thousand miles to a cat king?" he said, with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Just a hop through the nearest shadow." His hand alighted on Edwin's arm, tracing down to his wrist with a thumb-claw. "But I love that you're worried about me. Really. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

"I'll walk you to the door," Charles blurted, before Edwin could get a word in edgeways. Which only resulted in both of them giving him looks like they knew he was full of shit.

"How chivalrous of you," Thomas drawled.

"Indeed," said Edwin, eyeing Charles up and down. Made him squirm a bit, feeling all hot and exposed under the scrutiny. He was almost grateful when Edwin turned his attention to the Cat King again. "Until next time, then."

"Promises, promises," Thomas purred.

His cocky demeanour evaporated when Edwin leaned in to brush a chaste, fleeting kiss against his cheek.

Charles chewed his lip, and looked at his feet.

"Safe travels," said Edwin, in a softer tone.

He gave a small smile, and turned on his heel to march primly back into the office. And Thomas stared after him with scarred lips softly parted, pupils blown big as planets.

Charles, with an awkward cough, stepped into the hall and shut the office door behind him. "Right," he said. "Off you go, then."

Thomas turned his eyes on him — his pupils sharpened back to points, his lip curled into a scowl. "You're a real little brat, you know that?"

Charles crossed his arms. "Just looking out for my mate. He doesn't need some mangy old stray sniffing round him all hours."

The Cat King gave him a nasty little smile, flashing his teeth. "I didn't see him complaining."

Bristling, Charles planted his feet, squared his shoulders. "You fuckin' starting, or what?"

The bastard just laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, jeez. I'm not picking a fight with some pup on this... dingy little building. I'm leaving."

He turned and walked off down the hall — but he spun back round after a couple of steps. "But, um. If I can give you just one teeny tiny piece of advice?" He didn't give Charles the chance to say no. "He's not gonna wait around forever."

Hit him right between the eyes with that one. Charles flinched. "Dunno what you're —"

"Oh, puh-lease," he groaned, sliding his sunglasses out of his pocket. "You're playing a little game of your own, aren't you? And losing, by the looks of it. Honestly, it's — it's painful to watch. Well, whatever he loves me, he loves me not bullshit you're doing right now, please, enough. Quit sitting around, pulling the petals off fucking daisies, and do something about it. For all our sakes." He opened the folded shades with a flick of his wrist. "Especially his."

He put them on, turned round, and continued his swaggering walk-off. Charles, caught completely on the back foot, scrambled to recover.

"Yeah, that's right, walk away," he hollered. "And keep your bloody paws off him!"

"Oh, don't even worry about it," he drawled. He turned round one last time to lower his shades and rake judgy eyes up and down Charles' frame. "Clearly, he's more of a dog person."

He sighed, stepping backwards into the shadows at the end of the hall. He nudged the shades back up his nose, and the bright candles of his eyes went dark, too. "No accounting for taste."

He melted into the black; the last thing to disappear was the white slash of his sneer.

Edwin's eyes were on him the second he stepped back into the office.

"Charles," he said, levelly, setting aside his pen and notebook on the desk. "Please do tell me you didn't attempt to chase a powerful magical being out of our building with a cricket bat."

That surprised a laugh out of him, at least. "No. But would've been good, that." He slumped onto the desk at Edwin's side. "Why are you talking to that wanker again? You do remember the bit about him putting a bloody leash on you?"

"Granted, we... got off on the wrong foot." Edwin leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "But we reached an understanding. Besides, when he's not holding his magic over one's head, he's rather..." he cleared his throat. "Entertaining."

Charles thought of that bloody moggy's wandering hands, his lips. Edwin receiving each and every kiss, oh so politely — 'til the cracks started to show. Thought of him breathless, and soft, and melting under that bastard's touch.

"Right. Entertaining." Charles sprang to his feet. "Think I'm gonna have a walk."

He didn't bother with the door again, stepping right through the window. What was wood, glass, and a three storey drop to a ghost, anyway?

Soon as he'd done it, he felt daft. Jumping out the window, sulking around the city in the middle of the night. All because of something a bloody cat said to him. Wasn't his proudest moment. Thing is, the cat may be a dick, but... he wasn't wrong, was he?

Why would Edwin wait forever?

He hadn't thought about it. Because they'd already been together forever, basically. And when Edwin told him he loved him, Charles said they had forever to figure out the rest and he'd bloody meant it. And yeah, alright, that was two years ago, but what was two years to them? They'd still been happy, hadn't they? Same old agency, same old friends. He thought they'd been even better, actually. Closer. Like they were all out of secrets.

But maybe that wasn't true. Edwin never told him 'bout kissing Monty, did he? Didn't tell him he was talking to the Cat King again.

And just 'cause Edwin loved him, didn't mean he had to wait for him to catch up, did it? He was growing up, growing into himself, figuring out what he wanted. Maybe he wanted to go out, meet people, snog people. Maybe he already was, and Charles was too busy sorting out his own jumbled feelings to have noticed. And y'know what, good for him. Good. For. Him.

Took Edwin a while to figure out what he wanted, sometimes. Didn't stop to think about his feelings enough, really, too buried in his books and stubbornness. But when he figured it out, he went for it. Come literal hell or high water, he went for it. Bloody fearless, he was.

Maybe if Charles was half as brave as Edwin Payne, they'd be sorted.

"So," said Crystal. "How's the plan going?"

Charles flopped face down on her sofa. "Shit."

"What batshit gimmick did you try this time?"

"Nasty poltergeist threw him 'cross the room. Knocked him out a bit for a minute, he was all like, dazed and that..."

"... And?"

"I... sort of... asked him if he needed mouth to mouth?"

"Charles. You're fucking killing me."

Alright, so. Maybe he was getting a bit desperate.

He'd trotted out every excuse in the book — as well as, let's face it, quite a few that weren't in the book for bloody good reason. He'd flirted, he'd teased and prodded. He'd made an idiot of himself explaining why going undercover as a couple was the best way to solve a case. He had looked Edwin dead in his gorgeous eyes when he asked what exactly constituted French kissing, and asked: "want me to show you, mate?"

Oh god, Crystal was right. This plan was bloody stupid. It wasn't even a plan anymore, it was a mad scramble of half-baked come-ons. And it was the best he could do because with every day that passed without kissing Edwin, the need to kiss him just grew. 'Til it was all he could think about, pushing every other thought out of his brain. There was no room for planning and scheming in his head when it was all what if I just gave him a peck, before he left? What if I pushed him against the wall a little? What if I just bloody went for it?

What if he kissed me back?

Even now, Edwin was clouding his thoughts, and he wasn't even doing anything. He was in his usual spot, at the desk, immersed in his work with a little satisfied smile on his lips. Voice light and soft as he muttered protective incantations over the pages of those salvaged short stories. The way his cadence lilted and his hands nimbly sketched out the gestures of the enchantment... Christ, Charles was going out of his mind.

He was out of ideas. He was out of plan, out of investigative tools. What the hell did that leave him with — except for the one thing he swore he'd never, never do?

"Can I kiss you?"

It was like magic, the way Edwin froze completely, head to toe. Nothing moved except his eyes, which shot to Charles and blinked, rapidly. "I... excuse me?"

Fuck. Fuck. "Sorry," Charles blurted, springing up from the couch. God, he'd blown it. He'd buggered it up. He rubbed the back of his head and didn't look Edwin in the eye. "Sorry, I didn't —"

"Charles."

He risked a glance. Edwin , papers forgotten, had both his hands braced on the desk and was staring at Charles like he was a puzzle to solve.

""Charles," he said again, calmly. Gently. "What did you just ask me?"

And just like that, it all spilled out.

"I just — I've been thinking about it, yeah? And, well, what you said to me, in hell? Well I think I might be... that, too. For you. But I don't know, and I don't wanna muck everything up, so I thought maybe if I just... kissed you, it would. I'd know, yeah? I'd know for sure and then I could give you a proper answer, right? So that's what I've been trying to do."

God, he was babbling. Fucking embarrassing. But he hated keeping secrets from Edwin and god, he was the only person Charles had wanted to talk about any of this shit with. He'd been dying to talk to him about it. Even as he felt himself digging deeper into a hole with every word, the relief of finally saying it was immense.

"I just... I wanted to give you the right answer, yeah? No fuck-ups. But now I'm going a bit mental, see, because it's been months and... and all I can think about is kissing you." He laughed at himself. "Is that mad?"

Fuck, it was quiet. He could hear the pigeons on the roof, and the faint tap-tapping of the Night Nurse on her typewriter a few doors down. Edwin didn't say anything a moment, still as a statue, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Charles was half tempted to walk right through the window again and try and pretend this never happened later.

"...Charles," said Edwin, finally — as he carefully stood up and rounded the desk. "...If I may clarify. Would I be correct in understanding that this has been on your mind for... months, you say?"

Charles fidgeted in place. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, I mean, it didn't become like, a plan 'til, um, 'round Christmas, I reckon? But I was thinking about it before that."

"So you've been thinking about... kissing me," said Edwin, drawing slowly closer. "Since last year."

"Yeah. At least, yeah."

Edwin came to a stop right in front of Charles, practically toe to toe, and gave him perhaps the most incredulous look he'd ever worn. "And you have not done so yet because...?"

I have no bloody clue, was Charles' first thought. Standing this close to Edwin's handsome face, it seemed fucking ridiculous.

But he swallowed tightly, same old doubt churning in his guts. "Because... 'cause if you don't like it, or — or if I don't like it, then..." His eyes flickered to Edwin's lips. "I... I don't wanna be the reason you never speak to me aga—"

And that was about as far as he got — because Edwin was kissing him.

Charles' breath caught, his hands flew up — fingers wrapping round Edwin's biceps and hanging on. It was, like... a shy kiss. Edwin's mouth barely opened, and he pressed politely into Charles' lips like he was rubberstamping an envelope. But it didn't matter. Charles still felt like he'd been knocked off his feet. Felt like his blood, or whatever the ghosty equivalent was, was all rushing to his head, his heart, his stomach. Felt like his knees didn't wanna hold him up.

When Edwin pulled away, too soon, you could've knocked Charles over with a feather.

"There," said Edwin, a little breathless. "I started it." He cleared his throat, straightened his waistcoat. "So if it wasn't... satisfactory, then. Well. You're not to blame. And we'll say no more of it. Agreeable terms?"

Charles gaped at him, slack jawed, starry eyed. Edwin, the madman, held his stare. He was panting softly, his pupils blown wide, and he looked nervous but he didn't back down. Steady, determined and... fucking beautiful.

Fearless. Bloody fearless.

Charles took Edwin's face in his hand, stroking his jaw. "You absolute nutter," he breathed, and pulled him in for another kiss.

This one? This one was not polite. Edwin made a fucking brilliant noise into Charles' mouth and surged into him like a tide. His hand on Charles' chest pushed, until his legs hit the sofa and he collapsed onto it. Edwin followed, still pushing, 'til he had Charles practically on his back, pressed into the leather with Edwin all but draped over him. Charles startled a bit but god, he was not complaining. He heard a soft thud, somewhere. Might've kicked something over, the tiny sofa too short for two six-foot lads to sprawl out over it like this. He didn't care. His fingers cracked through Edwin's stiff hair product as he dragged him closer. His other arm wrapped round Edwin's slim waist, locking him in.

It didn't feel like he remembered, the kissing. Back when he was alive. The heat wasn't exactly body heat, so much as... energy. Something that crackled like sparklers and tingled like spice. Edwin's lips didn't exactly feel soft or hard, warm or cold, wet or dry, but they felt real. Real and addictive and, for the moment, not even a little gentlemanly.

One thing's for sure: it did not feel like kissing Kelly Daniels in year nine.

Edwin broke away with a faint gasp. He stared down at Charles with huge eyes and his hair all out of joint, bowtie crooked. He was the most gorgeous, amazing thing Charles had ever seen and Christ, how could he have been so. Bloody. Thick?!

Charles blinked up at him. "Bloody hell," he said, awed. "I am... one thousand percent in love with you."

A mad, wild sort of hope darted across Edwin's face. But he pushed back a little, levering himself off Charles' chest. "You," he breathed, broken by a little disbelieving laugh. "You don't have to say that, Charles. Just because I did, that is. We can — hm — court a time, first, if you'd rather —"

"No, I — I mean it." Charles grabbed his face in both hands. And god, that was a bit nice, too, just holding him. How was he gonna resist doing it all the time? "I've been thinking about it and I was. I was almost sure, yeah? But now I'm definitely sure. I'm sorry. I didn't wanna say anything, 'til I knew, yeah? 'Cause, right, what if I didn't — what if you were Kelly Daniels?!"

Edwin blinked. "Who on earth is Kelly Daniels?" he asked, hopelessly bewildered.

Charles laughed. "Y'know what?" he said, hauling Edwin back down. "Doesn't matter."

Edwin kissed him again, sighing into it. His hands on Charles' neck and thumbing up under his jaw in a way that drove everything else out of his head. But too soon, he pulled back again. "I think it might matter a bit, actually," said Edwin. "On account of it being the reason we haven't been doing this for months, already."

Charles groaned. "It's — she's a girl I liked once, is all. Best mate growing up. Thought I liked her like that, but. I didn't. Screwed things up with her." His hands trailed down Edwin's arms, more than a little awed that he could just do that now. Edwin had proper nice arms. It was a good distraction from baring his soul. "Didn't wanna do that with you."

Edwin's face softened. "You never told me about her," he said. His hand, a little tentative, reached up; thumb coming up to stroke under Charles' eye. He might as well have cracked him open like an egg.

Charles squirmed a little, deflecting his vulnerability on a laugh. "It's — s'not important really, is it? Don't have to tell each other everything." He tugged at Edwin's bowtie. "I mean, you never told me you snogged Monty."

"It was hardly a snog," said Edwin, brows furrowing. "And I was not the one who... instigated."

"I'm not having a go!" Charles blurted. "I'm just. I'm just saying... I didn't tell you 'cause it didn't matter, really, did it?"

"Except it clearly did." Edwin did the worst thing he could have done — he sat up. Charles was embarrassed by how much he missed him already. Edwin perched himself primly on the edge of the sofa, straightening himself out a bit. He couldn't do much about his hair. "If it's been weighing on you. I wish you would have spoken to me about it."

His hand, after some nervous hovering, patted Charles' knee. "I've made it clear that you can come to me with things, Charles. Even if it is not always... comfortable, for me." He cleared his throat, staring straight ahead. "But I'd rather a modicum of discomfort, if it means you can speak your mind."

Charles sat up, hunching into Edwin's space. A part of him was still nervous to reach out and touch, but he did it anyway. Held Edwin's jaw, tilted his face towards him. He looked so wary, so poised and buttoned-up. You'd never guess he'd just been snogging Charles into the couch like some ghosty Casanova. He'd just let out something raw and real, trusted Charles with it, and now all Charles was doing was shutting him out.

He swallowed, stroking Edwin's cheek. "Didn't tell you 'cause I was scared," he admitted. "Haunts me a bit, what happened with her. I didn't... Didn't want you to see how fucked up I was about it.

Edwin exhaled, the hard line of his brows softening. "Charles," he said, tone warm, amused. "With utmost respect: I do not believe you could ever be 'fucked up' in any way that matters a damn to me."

Charles laughed, ducking his head and shaking it. "Alright, alright..."

"I mean, I have seen you commit murder. And arson. And there was that business in oh-nine, with the —"

"Alright!"

"Besides, I've seen far worse," said Edwin, airily. "After seventy years in hell —"

"Oh, you've been to hell?" Charles teased. "Didn't know that about you. Why didn't you say somethin' before?"

Edwin gave him a withering look, head tilted. He wasn't wearing a pair of half-moon glasses but he might as well have been peering over some. But there was a twinkle in his eye and the shadow of a smile on his lips and he was so, so fucking gorgeous it hurt to look directly at him.

"Can I kiss you?" asked Charles, again.

Edwin laughed, a surprised little thing that showed his teeth. "Have I not made the answer to that abundantly clear?"

Charles grinned, pulling him in. "Just checking."

"I suppose, in the interest of transparency," said Edwin, some time later. "I should tell you about Monty."

Charles hummed, eyes closed. They weren't sleeping, obviously. But it was tempting, with his ear pressed to Edwin's chest, wrapped round him like an octopus. He could almost trick himself into hearing a heartbeat, pattering soft and quick like the inflection of Edwin's voice.

"He kissed me. I'm afraid I might have... confused him, a little bit." Edwin's long, steady fingers stroked through Charles' curls. It was brills. "I was actually coming to understand my feelings for you at the time, and may have... miscommunicated. I told him immediately that I wasn't interested."

Charles tipped his head back, propping his chin on Edwin's chest, peering up at him under heavy eyelids. "How'd he take it?"

"Well, not excellently," said Edwin, with a quiet tsk. "He did try to feed us to a ghost-devouring fungus not a day later." He scratched absently behind Charles' ear. "Although I believe he was conflicted about it. Might have had a change of heart, in fact. Although when the Cat King revealed his true nature, it all got a bit lost in the shuffle."

"Mm." Charles raised an eyebrow. "Cat King was there, was he?"

Edwin fidgeted slightly under him. "...Yes."

Charles chuckled, tilting his head into Edwin's hand. "What is your deal with that bloke?" he asked, brushing a kiss across Edwin's palm. "Have you two been... you know..."

He told himself, sternly, that he would not get jealous. Hard to be jealous, really — when that prick was sulking around in some warehouse across the sea, and Charles was getting the lapcat treatment.

Edwin's eyebrow twitched. "Certainly not," he said. "But I suppose we're friends, after a fashion. And..."

Charles folded his arms on Edwin's chest and propped his chin on them, watching expectantly. "And?"

Edwin, with an awkward clear of his throat, turned to look at the back of the sofa. He couldn't blush, but Charles could practically feel the way his face was burning. "Well," he said, curtly. "It would be remiss of me not to admit that I find his attention... flattering."

Grinning, Charles pushed up on his knees. "Edwin Payne," he teased, planting his elbows either side of Edwin's head. "You tellin' me you like being admired?"

Edwin's unimpressed face wasn't fooling anyone.

Chuckling, Charles leaned down, nuzzling into his throat. "Not gonna need that cat around for that, anymore," he said, pressing a kiss under Edwin's jaw that had him squirming. "Gonna have me ogling you so much you get sick of it."

"Not possible," said Edwin. He sighed, a gorgeous, throaty sound, and his hand dug once more into Charles' hair, and tightened. "But I should very much like to see you try."

Charles grinned into his neck. This was gonna become his new addiction; making Edwin forget his manners. "Can I —?"

"Always," Edwin interrupted him, dragging his face up out of his throat. "Without question."

"Aces," Charles breathed.

And that, he decided, was enough of the chit-chat. ~~

Jacques Futrelle was a mystery author who died on the Titanic, supposedly taking the last stories he ever wrote with him. Read about him as well as some other interesting lost detective media on this blog post! Hope you enjoyed this, whatever it was! I had SO much fun with the Cat King, I'll have to write more of him. If you enjoyed please consider dropping us a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I sank significantly more time into this than I intended to xD (and for those curious, I'm still testing covid positive but feeling much better! Mainly just sick of being cooped up inside at this point!) 'Til next time - I need to try and wrangle chapter three of Lonely Bones into some kind of shape next 😅

#dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #charles rowland #edwin payne #my fanfic #my shoulder hurts like a BITCH so might need a short writing break now dvjndsd #back to lonely bones soon tho!#hope you like thiiiis pls consider reblogging/commenting etc ily 💛

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