28 Flavors of Charlie Pace

Original entry with master list. [Friendslocked]

Twenty-eight flavors of Charlie
Ratings: Various
Pairings: Various
Universes: Various

1. Prompt: Naughty Charlie. For: , Sayid/Charlie



Breeze through the trees overhead.


Sayid says, without opening his eyes, “Charlie, do not sneak up on me.”


“I’m serious, Charlie.”



Sayid inhales, settling to fall back asleep.


POUNCE! and Sayid is being rolled and kissed and and wrestled into the sand. He tries to fend Charlie off but he’s laughing too hard and being kissed too enthusiastically to be serious about it. “Charlie–Charlie–” he protests–or encourages–“Charlie–”

“Hi,” Charlie says cheerfully, beaming down at him as if he’s not holding Sayid’s hands over his head and their hips aren’t pressing together in an almost obscene way. “Did I wake you?”

2. Prompt: Happy Charlie. For: . Nick/Charlie, Milliways AU

They’re dancing–Charlie has always said the place needs more dancing. Slow-dancing in each other’s arms, breathing in each other’s presence and warmth, peace surrounding them.

Nick knows how to waltz. He probably knew the bloke who invented it–was probably there the first shocking night it was performed. He guides Charlie skillfully through the steps, leading him with just a nudge here and a press of his fingers there. He’s a flawless partner.

It’s a perfect moment, the vampire and the bassist, just here, just together, just music and movement and each other.

“Happy, Charlie?” Nick murmurs, dipping his head to rest it on Charlie’s shoulder.

“Absolutely,” Charlie answers and kisses his hair.

After all, Charlie has always said the bar needs more dancing.

3. Prompt: Sly Charlie. For: . Charlie/Shalom, Otherways

Charlie has a Cunning Plan.

Most blokes, he reasons, would do this someplace romantic or spectacular: making the moment even more momentous by location. But that is not the way of this relationship: his fondest memories of being with Shalom are more about being with Shalom than where they were or even what they were doing.

So everything about this should be perfectly ordinary. Ordinary clothes, ordinary place, ordinary words, ordinary day.

And then he’ll make it extraordinary. A complete surprise, though of course they’ve talked about it some and he knows her answer will be in the affirmative–because, and he’s not interested in false modesty about things like this–she adores him. (He admits readily he’s pretty gone for her, too. Someone sticking by your side no matter how stupid you are will do that for a bloke.)

Walking together on a Thursday afternoon in Regents Park? Perfectly ordinary, and therefore, perfect. She’s wearing a knit cap that makes her look even more like a kid, and they’re quiet together in the way that they often are: his sweet Shalom smooths out all the tangled places in him that way. If he were showing how excited he really is at the moment, how much he can’t wait for just the right footfall and bend in the path, she’d know at once that Something Was Up.

She has no idea, he thinks gleefully. She doesn’t have a clue.

Oh, he has a Cunning Plan, all right. Any second now . . . he’s about to change their lives for good.

4. Prompt: Angsty Charlie For: . Canon-angst

The first time Charlie shot up it seemed like there was no alternative except more pain. The names Liam called him, the things Liam said–his much-loved older brother looking at him with scorn–if you’re not in this band, what the bloody hell use are you?–that was all.

That was everything.

Useless, small, no bloody good, no bloody use.

It all goes away when he’s high. He’s a god then, raising mountains and sweeping away seas if that’s what he wants. So it never lasts long–that’s what the next fix is for.

Just keep the pain at bay, mate. Just keep the pain at bay.

5. Prompt: Poorly-Sick-And-Dying Charlie For: . Never-came-to-the-island AU

The girl had flat, life-murdered eyes but an ounce of pure brown sugar, the really good stuff from Afghanistan, and even laughed Charlie snorted a line off her belly. She didn’t say anything about the track marks in his arms or the way his ribs press against his skin.

In a way, Charlie pities her. You don’t fuck a (has-been) rock star expecting him to die on you.

He hadn’t expected to feel so calm at this moment, either. Everything seems so clear and simple: I’m dying. He feels detached from it, observing it from afar.

In a way, it’s a relief. He’s tired, you see. So tired. He’s known for a long time that it would come to this, that all the pleading from friends (who’ve abandonded him) and family (who’ve given up on him) and even the few who’d give his music a chance (but only once or twice before his nodding off on stage became too much or there was one to many no-shows and then it’s goodbye, Charlie), wouldn’t make a difference. Path has been chosen, boyo, destiny laid, fate snapped her fingers and said, Your turn.

He’s cold but can’t pull up the blankets–there’s vomit in his throat but he can’t lift his head–and he has a cold, clear knowledge that this is how everything ends.

And instead of sorrow or regret, he just takes his last breath and thinks, Rest. At last.

6. Prompt: Horny Charlie For: . Boone/Charlie

Boone would never be sure how an attempt at an apology turned into . . . this, stubble and lips and scratching fingertips. (Well, they’re both healthy young men–relatively healthy, Charlie’s been looking less wan and exhausted lately–and they’ve been on this island a long time with no action to speak of . . .) Boone tries to stop it for a moment with a “Fuck, dude, I’m not gay,” and Charlie snorted and said, “Sure you’re not,” and bit down on his lip again.

Well, okay, he wasn’t fighting Charlie off exactly. Or at all. And it’s a relief not to be comparing the girl he was fucking to Shannon, for once–all Charlie and Shannon have in common is questionable blondeness.

But still it was kind of–well, he didn’t know how to put it. Surprising. Yes, surprising to have another guy grinding into him and sucking on his tongue and trying to get his knees between Boone’s thighs. Surprising.

But not–fuck it. Not unwelcome.

7. Prompt: Pregnant Charlie For: . Charlie/Claire, post-series

“You know,” says Claire, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be having cravings here.”

Charlie hands her the ice cream carton. “There. Sharing.”

She smirks at him and takes the spoon, too. “I can’t imagine how you’d manage if we were still on the island.”

“I’d be gnawing at coral reefs, I suspect. They’re made of calcium, aren’t they?”

She moues in sympathy and touches his lips. “You’d get all cut up.”

“Worth it to make sure the wee one gets his proper nourishment,” Charlie answers, grinning.

“Again I remind you, I’m the pregnant one.”

Charlie pokes his tummy and wonders if the island did . . . more.

8. Prompt: Excited Charlie. For: . Teenaged Charlie

Nothing could be more ordinary than shopping for veg and biscuits (and bacon) and humming along to the tinny radio from behind the counter–and then familiar chords, a familiar voice, and Charlie drops everything right there in the aisle.

“Oi!” exclaims Liam. “We have to pay for that!”

“Liam!” He bounces onto his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Liam, Liam, Liam–listen!”

Liam listens. His eyes widen. He starts laughing. Charlie starts laughing. They’re laughing and bouncing and hugging each other and the widow behind the counter is starting to back away, even after they shout, “That’s us, that’s us, that’s us on the radio! That’s us!”

They gather their groceries, once they’re calm enough; pay, rush back to the flat, slam on the radio. And when the song is played again Charlie holds the radio facing out the window, volume turned all the way up, and shouts, “That’s US!”

9. Prompt: Book-reading Charlie. For: . Charlie & Aaron, on the island

The reading selection on the island is limited, of course. Lots of paperback novels–thick thrillers and romances bought in airports–a few biographies, a few magazines.

Someone brought the complete A.A. Milne. Not a cheap Disney version, etiher–hardcover, well-loved, with the orignal Shepherd woodcut illustrations.

Charlie traded a dozen mangoes and half a dozen coconuts to Sawyer for it, and shows it to Claire with pride. She gets that same look she always gets when he does something like this, but hands over Aaron nonetheless. “Let me know if he starts crying,” she says and lies down to take a nap.

He takes Aaron a short walk away, to sit under a tree in the shade. “This,” he tells Aaron solemnly, “is one of the best stories ever. It’s about a boy and his favorite toy and how much they love each other.” He considers a moment. “Though the donkey has the best lines.”

Aaron blinks, waiting to be impressed. Charlie takes a moment to kiss his chubby fist–because chubby fists need kissing–and opens the book to the first story. “‘Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin . . .'”

10. Prompt: Dancing Charlie. For: . Charlie/Chris, Milliways

The music is rhythmic and hypnotic: drums and clapping hands and stomping feet. The air is thick with incense. The dancing has been going on for hours.

No one notices. No one cares.

Away from the crowd, Chris–Krishna, here, as he is nowhere else–watches, smiling. Their devotion strengthens him, empowers him, and he drinks it in like wine.

In the crush of dancers he notices a familiar figure, and watches for a moment, surprised. He leaves the fringes and makes his way through the dancers–smiling and touching them as they reach for him, call his name, laugh with delight that he is among them–to touch the boy on his shoulder.


Charlie whirls and grins at him, still bouncing on the balls of his feet in the midst of the dance. “Chris! Great party!”

“It’s more than a party, son,” he says with a laugh. “It’s an act of worship.”

“But everyone’s so happy!” So is he. He doesn’t stop dancing, looking perfectly at home in loose Indian clothes, his hands moving like he’s been dancing this way all his life.

“Of course they’re happy–this is me, after all.” He catches Charlie’s hand. “Come.”

Not until they’re out of the crowd does Charlie say, “Where are we going?”

“Just somewhere quiet.” Outside of the courtyard is a garden, and the sound of the celebration is muted here. Charlie seems almost drunk on incense and music, and is laughing as Chris pulls him into his arms.

“Are you going to seduce me?” he says, putting his arms around Chris’s neck.

“Yes.” He smiles down at Charlie. “But first I am going to teach how to dance.”

11. Prompt: Jealous Charlie. For: . Sayid/Shannon/Charlie

They’re whispering again, heads close together, a smile in Sayid’s eyes and on Shannon’s lips. What they talk about for so long, Charlie has no idea: he can’t think of a single thing they could have in common.

Charlie puts down the guitar and starts twirling the guitar pick between his fingers. He is pointedly Not Looking at Sayid, but that doesn’t stop the memories–the tastes, the scents, the sounds, Sayid’s body and hands and tongue.

You wanted me.

They’re holding hands. His thumb strokes the back of hers. She’s smiling, happy, enjoying his attention because who wouldn’t? Handsome, fascinating Sayid with the mysterious past and exotic accent that make words liquid and sweet.

You were mine. I was yours.

There’s a quiet trill of laughter and then their heads are bent together again and the low murmuring continues.

What’s she got that I haven’t?

It had happened in the jungle. Sayid had started it by kissing the back of his neck. You’re a flirt, Charlie–care to back it all up with some truth?

Charlie had been willing. Charlie had been eager. Charlie had thought, Finally, someone to trust.

And now Sayid was whispering with Shannon, as exclusive as if they were in a private room with the curtains drawn. Flaunting their togetherness.

Charlie gets to his feet and grabs his guitar, walking up the beach into the darkness. Someone calls after him, “Charlie, don’t go far, it’s not safe,” but he ignores them.

You wanted me. You wanted me.

12. Prompt: Kidnapped Charlie. For: . Charlie/Faith, Milliways

Charlie tugged against the restraints. “Hello? Please? Somebody there?”

Footsteps, and then a weight on the bed beside him. Something cold and sharp toyed down his neck. “Hello, Charlie.”

He tensed. “Who–”

“You know.” Movement, weight over his chest, locks of hair brushing his face. “You know who I am.”

He licked his lips. “Faith,” he breathed.

“That’s right, baby.” Hands on his chest. “Say my name.”

“Faith,” he breathed again, “Faith, Faith, Faith.”

Her low, purring chuckle. “That’s right. You’re such a good boy. So obedient. Do what I tell you and you won’t get hurt. You understand?”

He nodded and licked his lips again, and was rewarded with her soft, teasing kiss.

13. Prompt: Caring Charlie. For: . Charlie/Sayid

“Hey, Sayid,” Charlie says and plumps down on the ground beside Sayid. He hands him a refilled bottle of water. “Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thank you,” says Sayid as he takes it and puts his book aside. He sips and gives the bottle back, with a “It’s hot out,” when Charlie shakes his head. “Friends cannot share?”

“Friends can share anything they like,” Charlie says, rolling his eyes, but he laughs and takes a swig from the bottle. “Depends on what they’re in the mood for sharing, I s’pose.” He gives Sayid a pointed look through those impossible lashes.

Sayid laughs. “You never quit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m young.” He sat there a moment, fidgeting, and then gave back the water bottle and hopped to his feet. “All right, see ya later.”

“You don’t need to go.”

“You’re reading. I’ll come find you when the parting becomes intolerable.” He says this lightly, as if being parted from Sayid is never intolerable–except for the naked look in his eyes that says it actually always is.

Still, with a wave and a laugh he’s off, walking down the beach towards the camp.

Sayid tries reading again for five minutes, for ten–and then picks up the book and water bottle and follows in Charlie’s footsteps. Charlie is not the only one who dislikes being apart–and being with Charlie is more entertaining than any old book, any day.

14. Prompt: On-His-Knees Charlie. For: . Charlie/Claire, Lost AU

“Claire!” His voice echoes in the street, sounding more like sobbing than anger. “Claire! You can’t do this, Claire!”

Three stories up, Claire shuts the window and draws the blind. Charlie could get obsessive, she’d known that for months: it’s the nature of an addict, even after they’ve kicked a more obvious habit, to get wrapped up in something else to make them happy.

Until that, too, threatens to overwhelm them.

“Claire!” A crash. She winces. “Claire! I’m on my knees, Claire! I’m begging you!”

In the next room the baby starts crying, and there’s shouting outside. Someone threatening to call the cops, and if Charlie gets hauled in for harassment again–

Claire goes to the baby’s room, picks him up and hums to soothe him. No daddy-dance tonight. Maybe never again, she thinks, as Charlie’s shouts are drowned by the sound of sirens.

15. Prompt: Obedient Charlie. For: . Charlie/Sayid

“. . . I need you to this exactly how I tell you, Charlie,” Sayid said, his voice soothing and calm. “All right? Charlie? Can you do that?”

Charlie nodded and swallowed.

“All right. Put the weight of your body on your left foot, slowly. That’s right. That’s very good. Now.” He wiped his face with his palm. “You’re going to be fine, Charlie. Just listen to me. Don’t be afraid to move.”

“I can’t–”

“Yes, you can,” Sayid soothed. “You can. I won’t let you get hurt. Just move your right foot, Charlie. Slowly, slowly.”

Charlie looked at Sayid, eyes desperate, and then slowly moved his foot.

Sayid leapt, rolling Charlie into the jungle dirt as the land mine exploded behind them. Debris and leaves rained down on them, and after a moment, his ears ringing from the explosion, Charlie started laughing.

Sayid laughed too, dryly. “See? I told you I’d look after you.”

“Yeah, mate,” Charlie said quietly. “You did.”

16. Prompt: Losing-his-cherry Charlie. For: . Charlie/Sayid, pre-series

His search began soon after the war ended, and took him to strange places among strange people. None stranger, he thought, than this boy he’d met in the pub–his flirtatious bravado as they drank and talked, and the sheer panic that had crossed his face when Sayid said, “Well, come home with me, then.”

It was what the boy wanted, he thought.

The boy hadn’t commented on the state of Sayid’s flat–blinked a few times at its Spartan furnishings–but then turned the radio on and started dancing like they were back in the pub, slim hips rocking, feet he had yet to grow into moving to their own rhythm. Sayid lounged on the narrow bed and watched, amused, wanting to pull the boy to him and wanting to let him go on dancing.

When the boy finally fell onto him, breathless, still smelling smoky from the pub, Sayid caught him by his waist and smiled. “You do not have to stay.”

The boy was still catching his breath, and he bit his lower lip a moment. “No,” he said quietly, “I think I do. I mean–I mean, you’re not exactly the type to stick around, yeah? Give second chances? You’ll be on your way to–wherever–soon enough, yeah?” He took a deep breath. “So. Now or never.”

Sayid studied him. “Have you done this before?”

“‘course I have! Lots of times! Girls can’t get enough of me–blokes too–I–” He stopped. Blushed.

Sayid made himself comfortable on the narrow bed, holding the boy. “Stay, then,” he said, running a hand through the boy’s golden hair, “and we’ll see what happens.”

17. Prompt: Naive Charlie. For: . David/Charlie, Milliways AU

David watches over him anxiously–there was nothing he could do to help, everyone who underwent the change experienced it–and when Charlie’s cries are silenced and his body still, David touches his hair.

“Don’t be afraid.”

He sits up slowly. “I’m not. I’m not . . . afraid.” He looks at David, and David is stunned at how completely and clearly the change has marked him. Charlie has always been oddly beautiful–now he is a beautiful monster. “I’m not afraid,” he repeats softly. “I’m hungry.”

David can’t say a word for a moment or two–it was a desperate act, changing him, the only way to keep Charlie in the world forever–and now he doesn’t know where to begin. “I need to teach you to hunt.”

“Yes.” Charlie licks his lips–opens his mouth and fondles his sharp teeth with the tip of his tongue. “So many things I need to learn, David.”

“It may not be easy at first,” David warns as he helps Charlie to his feet. “It may be–”

“I’m not afraid.” He stumbles a little and David catches him. He’s a fledgling, he needs to feed, but David realizes as they leave the alley that he can’t bear the thought of Charlie with someone else’s blood on his lips.

And he will have to see it every night, from now until the universe ends.

He stops him with a hand on his arm and kisses him, purposefully pricking his tongue on Charlie’s new fangs. Charlie inhales with a shudder and his hand grasps David’s head almost painfully hard. “Oh,” Charlie breathes, “oh.”

“Your first lesson,” David whispers. “The taste of your master’s blood.”

18. Prompt: Shocked Charlie. For: . Charlie/Darien, Milliways

Charlie, it often seems, is made of words–they come burbling up like a hot spring, often as if he has no idea where they came from or when they’re going to stop.

So when he’s made speechless it’s usually for a good reason. A very good reason.

At the moment, this reason would be Darien and the ring in his hand and the hopeful smile on his face.

The moment stretches a little too long and Darien says, “C’mon, man, you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

Charlie looks at him–rather like a big-eyed, water-logged kitten, really.

“Never,” Darien says, and Charlie shakes his head. “Never ever.”

More head-shaking.

Darien sighs and folds the ring in palm. “Well, jeez. If I’d known that I wouldn’t have sprung it on you like this.”

Charlie presses his lips together and tries to look a little less like he just got hit in the head with a two-by-four.

“This is your commitment thing, isn’t it,” Darien says–half-grumpy, half-amused. “You just don’t think about it because thinking about it makes you flail like a flaily thing.”

Charlie shrugs, and then curls up at Darien’s side, pulling Darien’s arm over him like a security blanket.

Darien sighs and rubs his back. “Well. How about you start thinking about it, and I’ll hang onto the ring. And then . . . then we’ll talk about it again sometime soon, ‘kay?”

Charlie thinks about it a moment, then nods and sits up long enough to kiss Darien quickly. He snuggles back in Darien’s embrace and exhales.

19. Prompt: Greedy Charlie. For: . Charlie/Sayid

Charlie just can’t get enough. Sayid’s rich skin and warm scent, the firm muscles in his chest and belly, his low hungry laugh when Charlie’s impatience takes over their sense of privacy.

He’s on his knees the moment they’re beyond the treeline, hands scrambling and Sayid laughing, “Slow down, slow down,” but Charlie can’t, can’t. If he waits any longer he’ll die.

“Charlie–” Sayid’s accent makes his simple name sound like music and Charlie licks his lips as Sayid kneels to look into his eyes. He holds Charlie’s face in his hands and whispers again, “Charlie,” leaning close but not close enough, and Charlie groans with impatience again.

“We don’t have time for this.” Hands under Sayid’s clothes again, just need to touch and touch.

“Charlie, you treat me like your drug.”

Charlie stops. He swallows.


“The insatiability is very flattering,” Sayid murmurs gently, still holding Charlie’s face. “But, please.” Dark eyes searching his, holding him steady. “You do not need to devour me.”

Charlie looks away a moment, then back and tries to smile. “Slower, then.”

“Slower.” Sayid’s smile again, affectionate. “I’ll still be here at the end.”

20. Prompt: Daring Charlie. For: . Charlie, Claire and Seth, Milliways

“Claire, watch this!”

“Charlie, be careful,” Claire calls to him, laughing, as Charlie attempts to balance along the rocks that line the lake. “Don’t fall in there, it’s deep!”

“I have excellent balance,” Charlie declares, proving it by standing on one foot, both hands extended over his head. “I’m as steady as a tree.”

“Daddy is very silly,” Claire informs Seth, who is blinking in confusion at Daddy over water. “Oh!” she cries, as Charlie rolls down into a headstand. “Charlie–”

“I’m just fine,” he calls back and walks on his hands along the rocks. “Eat your veggies, Seth-bug, and you’ll be able to do this when you’re grown up!”

“No teeth,” says Claire, shaking her head. Seth shakes his head too, then claps and laughs as Charlie rolls back to his feet with a loud, “Ta-da!” Claire claps politely, smirking at him.

“And now for my next trick–” Charlie jumps down from the rocks onto the grass beside them, and flops down onto his back. Seth bounces on his haunches and makes grabby hands at him, so Charlie picks him up and zooms him around until Seth’s laughing heartily. “The amazing Seth Littleton and his flying machines!”

“Consisting of his daddy . . . and his daddy,” says Claire, watching them.

“I make a great airplane, don’t I, bug?” He sits up and gives Seth loud smacking kisses. He whispers into his ear, “For you I’d learn to fly.”

21. Prompt: Exploring Charlie. For: . Charlie/Sayid

It’s a map of unknown countries. It’s a kingdom long lost. It’s a flat valley, gently rising hills, a forest. It’s words in a foreign tongue spoken softly as echoes.

Charlie’s fingers are learning their way around this new land and learning it well. There’s so much to explore, to know–where to touch, where to scrape, where to press his hand flat and feel the shiver. It’s an ever-shifting landscape, and he is guided only by soft rumbling sounds of pleasure and an occasional fingertip brushing his face.

Earthquakes, typhoons, hurricanes, and lungs rising and falling as gently as the sea.

22. Prompt: Swimming-In-The-Buff-Charlie. For: . Charlie/Richard, Milliways

Charlie does not swim. He can swim, barely, but he prefers not to. At most he’ll wade. Perhaps splash around a bit, but he won’t go deeper than he can stand.

This day–this perfect, hot July day–Charlie has made a decision. It’s not a momentous one, not a life-changing one: just to take off his clothes and dive into the lake and see what happens.

What happens, though, is an “Oi! Charlie!” and more splashing next to him, and when Charlie comes to the surface there’s Richard, a look of panic on his face. “Oi, mate!” Richard swam to him.

“I’m fine,” Charlie says. “I’m swimming. See?” He does a clumsy backstroke.

“I thought you fell in!”

“I’m fine,” Charlie says again, treading water.

Richard treads water with him, keeping up with him easily. “So you’re just swimming? Not diving in to end it all?”

“And why would I do that?” He splashes Richard.

Richard sputters water out of his mouth. “Because you can’t swim, mate.”

Charlie cocks an eyebrow at him and ducks under the water, swimming close enough to tug on Richard’s foot. Richard kicks and Charlie swims back up and spits water out of his mouth. “I think,” he says, and turns onto his back to do a lazy backstroke, “rumors of my inability are exaggerated.”


It’s about then that Charlie remembers he’s naked, and almost straightens up. But doesn’t. What’s a little naked between friends?

He hears Richard start to swim away, and straightens up to say, “Leaving already?”

“I’ll leave you in private,” he says and starts to climb up onto the rocks.

Charlie swims up and tugs on his foot again, and with a yelp and a splash Richard tumbles back in. Charlie laughs like a loon.

He is one. We know that.

“Git!” Richard tackles him, pulling him under and letting him back up just in time. He holds Charlie, arms under his arms, and grins at him. “There. Not going to let you drown.”

Charlie grins too, kicking his legs lazily to keep them afloat. “Knew you wouldn’t.”

And they’re floating, grinning, and the sun is warm and the water is cool, and it’s natural that they kiss, don’t you think?

23. Prompt: Bathtime Charlie. For: . Charlie/Darien, Milliways

Charlie sings in the bathtub.

Of course he does. He also sings in bed, while eating breakfast, while bouncing down the stairs and while sewing buttons onto his shirts, and he has little songs for each of them. In the tub he sings, “Splash splash, in the bath, washin’ between my toes, splash splash, comfy bath, smellin’ like a rose.” And so on.

When Darien stumbles in, sleepy, Charlie splashes water at him and says, “Come in, bedhead, I’ll wash your back.”

“Mrrgh,” says Darien, who Needs Coffee with a capital Nuh.

More splashing as Charlie hangs over the side of the tub. “Darrrrrrien . . .”

Darien splashes cold water on his face and looks at him. “What? Oh, fine.” Drop the clothes, settle gingerly into the water, his back to Charlie.

“Isn’t that better?” Charlie’s legs frame his and he wraps his arms around Darien’s chest.

“Mm,” says Darien, but it is pretty good–warm, bubbly, smelling of citrus. “You mentioned a backrub.”

“Oh! Yes. Forgive me for being lax.” He takes a washcloth and starts rubbing it over Darien’s back. Darien arches, hums with pleasure, and grins.

“Don’t you have a back-washing song?”

“Hm . . .” Lazy swish-swish down his spine, over his shoulders. “Think I’d rather make you sing, to be honest. Make you hit a high note or two . . .”

Darien laughs, leans forward so Charlie can reach lower. He hums softly, tunelessly, happily.

It’s not music–it’s the next best thing.

24. Prompt: Eating-His-Lunch-And-Drinking-From-A-Soda-Bottle Charlie. For: . Richard/Charlie, Milliways

It was a beautiful day out, so a picnic was called for. Nothing too complicated–brown bags of sandwiches and apples and crisps, and icy bottles of soda. They each carried a baby–as much as one could carry Joshua anymore, as he preferred to fly whenever he could–and spread out a blanket beneath the trees at the edge of the lake.

Once the boys were fed Charlie leaned back on his elbows, a soda bottle in his hand. Richard relaxed as well, his gaze on his sons.

“So,” Charlie drawled.

“So.” Richard cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m debating if it’s worth expending the energy to make conversation.”

Richard considered, then shook his head. “Nope. Better to just lounge and eat.” He tossed Charlie an apple.

Charlie caught it and bit in. “Yup. Better just to eat.” He sipped his soda.

Better just to eat and lounge and watch the babies play in the summer sunshine than . . . just about anything.

25. Prompt: Exhausted Charlie. For: . Charlie & Liam, pre-series

“Oi,” said Liam, poking him with his toe, “up, you. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

Charlie grumbled and pulled the roadie’s jacket he was using as a pillow over his face to block the noise. “Can’t make me.”

“You’re too old to be sleeping in a pillow fort.”

“‘s the only quiet place in the whole goddamn studio.” Under the crafts services table. Yes. He’s not proud. Just tired.

Liam shouts, “Seamus!” to bring over their manager, and then kneels down and tugs on Charlie’s feet. “If you make us late–”

Charlie doesn’t kick or even struggle–just yelps a little when Liam drags him out from under the table, and pouts. “Fine.” Yaaaaaaaawn. “Fine. I’m up. Now what’re you going to do to me?”

“Ignore any hope you had for dignity,” Liam says and hoists him up in his arms. When little brother is too tired to walk, big brother carries.

26. Prompt: Falling-Down-A-Lot Charlie. For: . Charlie/Darien, Milliways

Falling is like this.

Falling is like when Chalrie sits on Darien’s knee and watches him read and knows he could be reading or writing or eating or drinking or cleaning his nails but there’s nothing else he’d rather do than watch Darien read.

And he falls all over again.

Falling is like when he’s itching for a cigarette and bums one off the Bar and Darien snaps it out of his mouth with a “Nuh-uh, you’re living forever,” and a wink and a smile.

Oh, he falls then. He falls.

Falling is like when it’s quiet between them, when they’re catching their breaths and they start laughing because, because, because–because, hell, the sex is just that fucking good.

Falling is the look in Darien’s eyes when Charlie sings to him, like it’s too unbelievable that somebody could love him so much.

Falling is like tacklehugs and tickle fights and holding hands and nicknames that make no sense to anyone but them.

Falling is like Darien’s chin tucked into his neck and a kiss on his ear, reaching back to touch his face, having that moment of I’m glad you’re here.

Falling in love, Charlie thinks, isn’t like falling off a cliff or out of an airplane though there is a certain element of danger. But falling in love, he thinks, is like knowing there’s someone at the bottom, ready to catch you.

27. Prompt: Well-shagged Charlie. For: . Charlie/John Taylor, AU

John had thrown open the window while taking off his clothes, and so the hotel room is filled with the night sounds of the city as well as their quiet moans and flesh against flesh.

This kind of thing keeps happening to Charlie, somehow. He’s supposed to be writing songs for the next album, and whenever he goes crawling through the city for ideas he ends up . . . here. On his back, on his knees, some bloke driving him out of his mind.

The songs come pouring out every day, though. So it must be good.

He’d thought this bloke would sooner take a swing at him than kiss him, but he had–right on the street, tasting of lager and cigarettes, his stubble burning Charlie’s skin and his blunt fingertips digging into Charlie’s scalp.

And now, this. On his back again, leg hooked over one of John’s arms–he’s pretty sure his name is John–every stroke of his cock making fireworks explode in Charlie’s brain. His unhandsome face is hard as granite, nearly immobile, and if it weren’t for the sweat dripping down his face Charlie would think he wasn’t effected by this at all.

Charlie touches his face, pulls him down, kisses him roughly. John’s eyes narrow a moment, and then he relaxes in Charlie’s arms, his body heavy and slick. His movements become languid, lazy, which makes Charlie smile, his eyes closed.

“. . . feels . . .”

John grunts and licks his jaw.

“Feels good.”

“That’s the point, kiddo,” John says quietly and holds Charlie’s face in the V of his hand. “Open your eyes. Don’t hide from me.”

Charlie opens his eyes. His fingers dig into John’s shoulders. He watches John’s face, his eyes–and feels–just feels, no thought, no words, just the simplest part of him climbing and flying and falling.

Back to earth, back to reality, back to sweaty limbs and sticky skin and John’s weight on his body.

It’s some minutes before John speaks. “Y’okay, kiddo?”

Charlie nods and musters up a smile. “Better than okay.” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

When John moves off him to light a cigarette, Charlie reaches for his notebook at the bedside table and starts scribbling. John chuckles, but doesn’t ask–just lies back down, the tip of his cigarette a glowing ember in the moonlit room.

28. Prompt: Kickass Charlie. For: . Charlie vs. Arnaud, Milliways

Arnaud sprawled to the floor, clutching his nose. “Little prick–” he shouted in a muffled tone as blood gushed down his face.

Charlie stood over him, fist still clenched. “You do not hurt my boyfriend. You do not come near my boyfriend. You do not talk to my boyfriend. You do not think about my boyfriend. You do not bother, molest or otherwise annoy my boyfriend–or so help me God I will do more than break your nose. Do you understand?” Arnaud groaned and Charlie shouted, “Do you understand!”

“Yes, yes,” Arnaud said, slowly sitting up until Charlie’s foot on his chest stopped him. “Yes, I understand! Get off me, you dwarf!”

Charlie gave him another shove with his foot and with a twitch of his shoulders, walked away. There wasn’t much he could do to protect Darien–but he could, at least, do this.

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