Bad Things

Title: Bad Things
Fandom: Milliways (The Invisible Man/Lost)
Pairing: Charlie/Darien
Warning/Spoilers: None.
Word Count: 1600
Rating: NC-17
Summary: I don’t know what you’ve done to me/But I know this much is true/I wanna do bad things with you.
Notes: I originally wrote this in 2006 as a birthday fic for , the Darien to my Charlie in the roleplay game . Imagine my surprise on realizing I hadn’t posted it anywhere else. That had to be rectified!

On the scale of one to ten of seediness, this bar rates about a nine. There are hoodlum types hanging about in dark corners, their girls draped over their shoulders; a jukebox plays the blues, accompanied by the click of billiard balls and occasional bursts of raucous laughter; an overhead fan lazily stirs the hot evening air.

The place was Darien’s choice, the game was Charlie’s. The rules of the game are simple: whoever laughs first loses. This is usually Charlie, as he laughs at the drop of a hat—or at the well-timed drop of the trousers—which is why tonight he is determined to win. Darien’s lucky streak can’t last forever.

Particularly in a place like this. Charlie gets a beer from the surly bartender and sips it, looking around. It’s going to be easy to serious here—it’s a serious place.

Darien slouches at the end of the bar, watching some of the pool-players. Charlie moves down slowly, trying not to get his attention until he’s nearly at Darien’s side. Darien’s eyes flick to his and there’s a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, but he just sips his beer, nonchalant.

“Nice night,” Charlie remarks.

“Been nicer ones.” Darien’s eyebrow quirks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Charlie says airily. “If you factor in that it’s clear, the moon is out, the music’s good, and we both look like we could use some company, I’d say it’s a very nice night indeed.”

Darien sips. “I don’t need company. I’ve got a guy.”

“Oh,” Charlie says and smothers the smile that comes to his lips.

“Yeah. Little nutjob Englishman. Completely insane but hotter than fuck.” He sipped again.

“So what are you doing here, if you’re not looking for company?”

Darien shrugs. “I like shooting pool.” He looks at Charlie full-on. “Do you play?”

“A little.”

Darien nods to the nearest table. “It’ll be ours as soon as they’re done. So what about you? Nobody keeping you company on cold nights?”

“Oh, no, there’s somebody. Skinny rail of a bloke. Also hotter than fuck. Your somebody and my somebody should get together—perhaps they could set the world afire.”

“That,” says Darien, putting down his mug, “is a very good idea.” He goes to the cue rack and picks one out, elegant fingers sliding along the wood thoughtfully. Charlie swallows as he watches, and then shakes his head a little and picks out a cue for himself. “Five dollars a ball?” Darien says, turning to him. “Or a gentleman’s game?”

“Five dollars a ball is fine.” He watches Darien rack up the balls and shoot a perfect break.

“Stripes,” Darien says, and takes a shot.

They play in near-silence, both equally good. Playing pool was always a good way to pass the time on tour, but it’s been a long time since Charlie’s played. Darien appears to be concentrating on the game—the billiard game, not their game—and Charlie begins to wonder if Darien’s decided this place is too odd for their to have their usual bit of back-and-forth.

And then the jukebox begins to play a familiar song.

When you came in the air went out.
And all those shadows there are filled up with doubt.
I don’t know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.

Darien glances at Charlie with the traces of a smirk. Charlie raises an eyebrow back.

I’m the kind to sit up in his room.
Heart sick an’ eyes filled up with blue.
I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.

Darien rocks his hips a little. It’s very distracting. Darien has lovely hips.

When you came in the air went out.
And all those shadows there are filled up with doubt.
I don’t know who you think you are,
But before the night is through,
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.

Charlie tries to look away, but it isn’t a good idea to stare at any of the hoodlums—or their girls—and looking at the pool table is kind of . . . dull. He watches Darien, who is getting into it now, just enough so that someone who knows him can see that he’s dancing: little nods of the head, little shakes of the shoulders, little shimmies of the hips.

And then he leans close to Charlie as Charlie tries to line up a shot, and sings, his voice low, along to the juke box.

I don’t know what you’ve done to me,
But I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you.
I wanna do real bad things with you.

And he curls his lip a little.

Charlie looses it. It’s sexy—of course it’s sexy, there’s nothing not-sexy about Darien—but it’s also so ridiculous, so wonderful and silly and it’s all he can do to keep from pouncing on Darien right now and having him on this pool table.

Darien jumps up a little on the balls of his feet and pumps a fist in the air. “I win! I win again! You are so easy!”

“Shush,” Charlie says, and leans on his cue while he gets his breath back. “I’m beginning to wonder if you didn’t slip something into my beer.”

“I slipped nothing into your beer. You just find me hilarious.” He rubs his chin. “Now . . . what do you get to do to me.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow, patient. “I can’t imagine what new twist you can find.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got more twists and turns than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” He looks around the bar, still rubbing his chin in deep, deep thought—and then he smiles. His eyes flick to the men’s room off the bar.

Charlie looks too, and then back at Darien. “No.”


“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“If we get caught—”

“Then we’ll just have to not get caught.” He grins a big wicked grin. “Go on. I’ll meet you in about five minutes.”

Charlie sighs and puts down his pool cue. “The things I do for love,” he says with a martyred sigh, and makes a not-terribly direct way to the men’s room.

The tiny room looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since the Reagan administration, and the fluorescent light flickers overhead. Charlie winces, but goes into a stall anyway and closes the door, but doesn’t lock it. He takes the condom and tiny bottle of lubricant from his back pocket, and bounces on his toes when the door opens to reveal Darien.

“Hi,” Charlie breathes and Darien comes straight to him in the stall, holding his face and kissing him hard. Charlie fumbles the door shut behind him and clicks the lock, gasping for air as Darien lifts him off his feet and presses him against the door. “This is your idea of a penalty?” he whispers as Darien kisses his face and tongues his throat.

“You’re the one worried about us getting hamstrung by those thugs out there.” Those elegant fingers, so clever with the pool cue, dance down Charlie’s fly, popping the buttons. “But don’t worry,” he breathes against Charlie’s mouth. “I’ll look after you.”

“Yes,” Charlie whispers and wraps his arms tight around Darien, burying his face in Darien’s neck. “I know you will.” He presses the lubricant bottle into Darien’s hand. “You always do.”

Darien chuckles and kisses him, working down his jeans with one hand while the other grips the top of the stall door. “I do, don’t I, babe,” he whispers and cool, slick fingers touch Charlie’s skin, preparing him. Charlie shudders and moans in response, and Darien kisses him as he pushes him higher up the door. His own jeans drop low to his hips and he pushes, slowly, as Charlie tries to remember to breathe.

You’d think they weren’t in a horrible men’s room in a strange bar, the way Darien fucks him; like they were alone at home, like they have all the time in the world, like there’s nothing more urgent than each other. He watches Darien watch him, and smiles. He can’t help it. He tilts back his head and closes his eyes, moaning when Darien licks his throat.

“God, I love you,” he whispers and grabs Darien’s head so he can kiss him. Darien hums against his lips and rocks faster into him, his body already beginning to shudder. Charlie grips him hard, kisses him harder, and when Darien cries out and slumps against him Charlie kisses him again to muffle his sounds.

“Ohh, babe,” Darien whispers and kisses him lightly. “Good game tonight, don’t you think?”

“An excellent game. One of these days, though, I will beat you and I will get to name the what and where.”

Darien smiles and kisses him again. “Babe,” he says, “I think, in this game? Everybody wins.”


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