I can chat with you baby / Flirt a little maybe [For staystanding]

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I can chat with you baby / Flirt a little maybe [For staystanding]

Convincing Ben to let him take Charlie out on a scouting trip was easy enough. Ben was kind of oblivious. Convincing Miles was a bit more difficult, but a mention of Bobby and the abandoned house and two other girls and her restlessness, along with absolutely no reminder that she was technically an adult now (he wasn't an idiot), did the trick. He avoided Rachel like the plague. Let Ben and Miles tell her.

The fact that he had completely good intentions in keeping her away from Bobby-the-idiot (who probably was an angel compared to him and Miles at his age, but he was never admitting that) gave his arguments the weight of virtue, even to himself. The fact that he was, really, older than her father, and she was, surely, over her crush on him by now, cemented that. She'd called him "old," after all.

He had, in no way, implied that she'd do far better to look toward someone with more experience than Bobby to show her just what bodies were capable of doing together. Really.

...He was so going to the special hell.

By the time he cleared the way and grabbed the promised bottle of tequila and the things they'd need for the caves themselves, he was mostly sober again and that one thought just echoed. Special hell. Miles' look that threatened slow disembowelment should anything untoward happen to his niece had the back of Bass's neck itching as he moved to the gates to meet her. (He did not take any glee in telling Bobby he'd be short one party on his house exploring trip--that likely wouldn't happen at all now that Bass had told Miles the plan. No glee at all).

He was leaning against the gate, waiting for her, knife and sword at his hip, rifle slung over his shoulder, but straightened when she arrived, flashing her a smile as he caught the pack. "You sure you got everything?"

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Not entirely sure that Sebastian would be able to convince her (overprotective) family to let her go on a near week long jaunt outside the fences, Charlie took extra care to avoid her dad and uncle Miles. Her mom was down at the clinic, working alongside Maggie, and very easy to avoid. Thankfully. The only one she ran into before making her way to the gates was her brother. Danny's hair fell into his eyes and she gave him a grin and a kiss on the cheek before she hurried off, calling back to him to say goodbye to their parents for her.

As she reached the gate, and Sebastian stood there, ready to go, she realised she hadn't quite dared believe they would actually go. Still, she half expected a hand to clamp down tightly on her shoulder, tugging her back before she made it through the gates. But, despite the itching between her shoulderblades, her grin remained undiminished; brightening perhaps as their departure neared.

It wasn't until Charlie was maybe fifteen or sixteen that she discovered the danger dancing around the edges of Sebastian Monroe. In the eyes of the rest of the village, he was a collection of bad decisions with an undercurrent of violence, suspicious, but trusted because of his connection to the respectable and solid Matheson family.

He's a wild one, they'd say when he wasn't listening. Whenever he was around her though, he tucked that darkness away so carefully all she saw was his laughing blue eyes and his unruly curls. He was the one who used to make her shriek with laughter just before bedtime, chasing her around the house and the garden, pretending he was a monster. (I know it's just you, 'Bastian, she would confide in him when he caught her. I wasn't really afraid. Just pretending.)

Maybe she always had a bit of a crush on him, but when the potential for something more than village guard dog made itself apparent, she was lost. Even if that something more wasn't necessarily good or moral.

"I got us enough provisions to last us there and back again. Long as we supplement some fresh meat on the way." She patted the bow hanging off her pack. There'd be plenty of rabbits in the woods, or maybe a fat bird or two. "Even got you some of those cookies you like so much." Though it was debatable whether he liked them because he liked the taste or because he liked pissing her mom off by stealing them. "There's an extra water bottle in your pack"

Not willing to risk getting caught up, Charlie hurried towards the gate, catching him by the wrist and tugging him with her like an impatient child (though, god, she hoped that wasn't the image he'd get stuck with. For reasons). "You didn't forget your promise, right?"

Well, good on both of them for avoiding Rachel. It was pretty much his modus operandi, friendship having devolved into casual antipathy years ago. Whether that was on him or on her was anyone's guess, probably both, with a whole lot of not-quite-sane on both their parts to ever quite rub along comfortably.

Bass contended himself with the knowledge that his crazy, at least--whatever it ultimately was that made his edges so sharp, shadowed his brighter days--he came by honest. Miles kept him mostly steady, having a purpose helped with that, and having someone else to focus on did, too. Didn't stop the erratic flares, but he hadn't put a bullet in his brain, yet, so he generally figured he was doing all right.

Even if he knew the way he focused in on Charlie's smile wasn't anymore quite right than his own head was. He let himself be tugged with a bit of a laugh, and shook off the darker thoughts with impetuous disregard. They'd have a fun few days away; it'd do them both some good, and keep her away from Bobby a little longer.

"Sounds good. And, if you're referring to the tequila--you clearly haven't been paying attention if you think I'd forget it."

"Stupid of me. I should've remembered your love of tequila and loose morals when it comes to underage drinking." Not that Charlie was complaining. Not all.

The first time Charlie tasted whiskey, it was from Sebastian's glass. She was fifteen and they were in the kitchen, doing dishes after a Friday night dinner. Her parents and Miles were laughing in the other room, Danny was out in the backyard with a couple of friends. She had just finished drying the last dish when he picked up his glass of whiskey. He had soap suds on his left wrist, and wet skin up to his elbows. She asked what whiskey tasted like, and after a glance towards the door, Sebastian held the glass out to her. She took a big gulp and coughed for about a month after.

The first time she got drunk she was seventeen. There was a bonfire out in the woods. Too many kids and bottles upon bottles stolen from their parents. They'd been pretty proud of themselves for sneaking out and choosing such a remote location for the fire. In a hollow surrounded by trees and some cliffs, there was no way it could be seen from the village. But as the party progressed, they got real loud. Really, they shouldn't have been surprised when the guard detail (set up by Miles and Sebastian) busted them.

Charlie doesn't remember much of that night. It's all snatches of memory. The heat of the fire against her face; stumbling on a root and falling on her ass and then laughing her head off about it; feeling like the world was spinning and she was invincible; then strong hands on her waist and surprisingly soft curls under her fingertips; finding herself out of the woods, vomiting herself into exhaustion with a steady hand against the nape of her neck, her skin slick with sweat; the booze burned worse coming back up; and finally falling asleep between cool and clean sheets.

Somehow, her parents never did find out. Though she got an hour long lecture from uncle Miles about drinking. Which she pointed out was pretty hypocritical. Like. She got drunk once. How many times hadn't she seen him and Sebastian off their faces and pretending they weren't? The conversation, of course, ended with a reminder that he could tell her parents at any time. She didn't have much to put up against that.

Charlie's hand slipped away from Sebastian's as the gate shut behind them (but not a moment sooner). Her sword, hanging from the belt slung low on her hips, bumped reassuringly against her hip with each step. The sword (along with fencing lessons) was a gift from uncle Miles. Her father disapproved greatly, but her mom -- with a sudden tightness around her mouth -- had told him to drop it. Nothing bad ever came off a girl knowing how to defend herself.

With each step, it was like she was growing lighter, all the burdens off the village just pouring off her. Out here she didn't have to be anyone but herself. She glanced over at Sebastian. She could've been out here with Bobby (and let's be real, the other girls were never going to come, Charlie knew it was a lie the moment he said he'd invited them), and she would've been playing a part the whole time. But, that's what she liked about Sebastian: no bullshit.

"So how'd you find these caves anyway?"

Edited (wrong icon) 2015-04-18 11:58 (UTC)

"That sounds like your mother talking. It's not like ATF is running around enforcing drinking ages anymore. Besides--there were always familial and private function exceptions in most states." Yes, this was shit that Bass knew, pretty well. "It was stupid, then, it's stupid now. Tell kids they can't do something and they're just going to, I don't know, have parties in the woods where they could get themselves killed or wind up with alcohol poisoning like Miles did when we were seventeen."

He shot her a wry look, and shrugged. "If you're drinking with me, you're not at risk of killing yourself with it or ending up in an unsafe situation."

Ergo, not immoral. Bass was being responsible here. An adult. Or something. Look, she hadn't gotten drunk for another two years after the whiskey incident, had she? Obviously, his teaching methods worked. Some people who were clearly no fun and probably never got laid in high school, even if they were hot, needed to realize things like that.

He was sorry about the loss of her hand, but didn't reach back out for it--that would just be weird. But his own shoulders loosened as they moved into the trees, away from the walls that sometimes felt like they were closing in. He'd loved Jasper, growing up, but he'd been their golden boy--watched to be emulated, not watched to be monitored. He could've gone back, he knew. Emma and the boy were there.

But there were still too many memories and when they'd tried to convince her to come here, she hadn't, so he contented himself with trips south he didn't really talk about much, and spent more time on the road than he could in the walls there, either.

Her question just reminded him of a lot of that, though, with the answer he had to give. "I didn't find them. Some explorers a hundred years ago found them. They excavated a lot and made them safe and put in stairs and lanterns and all and ran tours through them for decades. We used to go to this one that was similar a few hours south of us growing up, but one summer your grandpa decided we needed an educational vacation, since our moms had arranged Disney World the year before, and we all came up here. The caves were on the agenda, and probably the coolest thing about the trip, because no one game a damn about all the cows or the Amish." He paused, considered. "Though maybe we should've paid more attention to the Amish."

An actual blush rose on Charlie's cheeks when he reminded her of the incident in the woods. She liked to pretend that they remembered as little of that incident as she did. But every once in a while, he or Miles would mention something about it, and she'd remember the humiliation of it all.

"Hey, I don't actually mind your stance on it. It works in my favor. But, you know mom would skin you alive if she found out." The second time Charlie got drunk was on the roof of Sebastian's house. Though maybe she was a bit more tipsy than drunk. They were celebrating something though she couldn't remember just quite what.

Charlie kept forgetting that the world wasn't such a mystery for the older generations. They lived back when you could drive a car across the country, or travel to another continent. If they hadn't been somewhere, they'd probably at least seen pictures of it, or they could look it up on a map or something. For her, the world was a vast dark space. She would never see England, except in her own head whenever Maggie spoke about it in low and intense tones.

Sure, she remembered loving television and there was this part of her that wished she could watch Spongebob Squarepants again, but most of it? She couldn't say she missed it. Mostly because she couldn't remember it. But, it would be nice, to be able to travel like they did before. Without having to be afraid of bandits or outlaws or Union soldiers. So, his talk of vacations and explorers kind of made her chest ache with sudden envy.

"The Amish?" She'd heard of Disney World -- her parents were gonna take her when Danny got older, but the Blackout cheated her out of that particular treat -- and cows, obviously. But the Amish were kind of new to her.

Well, he couldn't let her get too complacent or she started thinking doing things like that was okay, and then she'd get in trouble -- or wind up going out to some house with Bobby or some other boy and letting them get in her pants and the thought of that just made him want to kill things, which...was ridiculous, he knew. She was a beautiful young woman, smart and funny and he couldn't keep her a kid and be the most interesting guy in her life forever. She deserved better than that, someone to love her and give her a family, someone to make her happy, to protect her and grow old with her.

And he was just an old Marine, shattered into pieces that weren't ever quite put back together right, too prone to thoughts of suicide or murder, sometimes feeling like he was holding on to sanity by a thread and others like he'd left it far behind in a desert under the sun, or on a stretch of pavement covered in blood and shattered glass.

He pushed the darker thoughts aside and pulled a crooked smile for her. "We'll let her add it to the list of reasons. Though pretty sure Miles has my back on that one." God knows he wasn't hoarding his liquor from his niece, if not hanging out on rooftops drinking with her and thinking things he had no right to think.

Traveling was one of the things he missed most. Twelve years in the Marines--they hadn't spent them all in Iraq. They'd gotten to see Europe, Asia, taken their leave while in the Middle East to see Egypt and the pyramids. They'd surfed in Hawaii and Australia, both, and had way too much fun in SoCal while stationed at Pendleton. It hadn't all been desert sun and blood and nightmares he'd never escaped--they'd seen more of the world than two boys from small-town Indiana ever could've hoped and he hated he couldn't share that with her.

Her question made the smile take a sadder edge. "Religious folks. They didn't believe in living as part of the world, especially the modern world, so they had their own communities, pretty much self-sufficient. No electricity, no TVs, no tractors or cars or power tools. They lived like they were still in the 19th century, with horses and buggies and farming with old-style plows. Built houses and barns and furniture from hand. Cooked with nothing but fire-heated stoves. I doubt they'd have even noticed the Blackout, but..." He shrugged. "They also didn't believe in violence. And they had plenty of food and crops. And people were hungry." A shadow crossed his face. "I'm sure there are still some communities out there, but Miles and me saw one too many burning on our way up here, through home. I don't know if they survived better up here than down there or not."

The thing was, all the boys in the village had some pretty stiff competition in Sebastian Monroe. Charlie couldn't imagine any guy there being more interesting in him. He'd known her since she was a child, and he was the first man she loved outside of her immediate family. A tough thing to compete with. Not, of course, that the boys were really competing. Most of them were very content going after Jessica or Mandy with their lovely smiles, pretty dresses and gorgeous curves.

They had settled into a comfortable walking pace together. His usually long strides had shortened a little so she could keep up effortlessly. The sun shone down on their heads, making his desperately blue eyes glitter. Charlie kept throwing glances in his direction, admiring the cut of his shoulders and the glint of his teeth whenever he tossed her a grin. But, there was something else there too.

This was a dark day. After finally figuring out that edge of danger to Sebastian, Charlie began to realise that her favorite person in the entire world wasn't as happy and carefree as one might think.

On good days, he was all smiles and games and fun times. But then these days came, and below a thin veneer of his usual smiles lay a chasm of self-loathing and churning darkness. At first, she could only tell by the sudden tightness around Miles' eyes and mouth, the way he'd step right into Sebastian's personal space, crowding him and speaking to him in low and urgent tones. Miles' hand on the small of Sebastian's back or the nape of his neck, became an obvious sign of the dark days.

But, by the time she was seventeen, she could pick out the moods all on her own. This time, she saw it in the effort of his smile. Her fingertips touched the back of his hand lightly, an invitation to hold her hand. She wasn't as good at this as uncle Miles, but sometimes she thought maybe she was able to ward the darkness off.

Sometimes it pissed her off, all the experiences she'd never have, all the knowledge lost in the Blackout. She'd never even heard of the Amish, but now her heart ached for them. It was easy to see their little communities, not so different from her village, and the onrush of starving people, lost in a world without electricity. It sent a chill down her spine and without waiting for him to accept her invitation, she twined her fingers lightly with his.

"The electricity went and the world just went to shit, didn't it?" It stripped people down to their bare basics, showed everyone who they truly were on the inside. It was easy to be a good person when you had electric lights to ward off the darkness and staving off hunger was just a shopping trip (Charlie did not miss those) away.

She'd never really know just how much she drove back the darkness, how many times her smile or some innocent question or princess-ly demand had kept him from losing himself completely in a bottle, or swallowing a bullet in the woods. Miles could pull him out if he caught him in time, usually, but Miles didn't need him, now that he had his family, or at least Bass didn't think he did, not like he'd said he did, once.

But someone had to keep Charlie safe, and he'd held on to that a lot in the beginning, this image of him the thing that stood between her and all the horrors they'd seen on the months it took to walk the length of the country, to find them.

It wasn't so conscious, now, but then, his darker moods weren't really conscious either. Just there.

He let her fingers twine with his, anchor him to the here and now, and pressed their palms together.

"Pretty much. I mean, it wasn't all that fantastic beforehand, but people at least had a veneer of civilization. A pretense to keep up. Afterward, that was all gone."

It was probably proof that Miles Matheson had always been an asshole -- and Rachel would never forgive him for using her daughter like that -- but sometimes when he saw that darkness welling up in Sebastian's eyes, when he caught Sebastian's fingers twitching like they were already pulling the trigger, he would grab Charlie from where she was sitting and calmly playing with her toys and shove her into Sebastian's arms. Tell him to watch her, or some shit. That's the one thing that always worked. Until she got older and plopping her in Sebastian's lap would've been awkward. Of course, Charlie never knew that, never figured it out either.

Sebastian's hand was bigger than Charlie's and warmer. She could feel the familiar callouses on his fingers and palm. She had some of her own, you didn't fletch arrows for half an hour every night without getting a couple.

"It got better though. People found their humanity again." Or some of them did. The good people banded together and made new communities, finding strength in numbers. Of course, the bad people did much the same thing, except they also tended to prey upon the good people.

Charlie half-turned towards Sebastian, without missing a step and shot him a quick grin. "This has gotta be the most depressing conversation ever. We're going on an adventure. This should be fun." She gave his hand a light tug to quicken his pace a little. "I was thinking about what you said earlier. About the world not being limited to boys in villages. And I was thinking--" She turned her attention back to the road, these kinds of things were easier to talk about over texts when she didn't have to see him watching her or reacting to what she said. "You taught me how to hunt, how to swim and how to drink. So. I think you should teach me how to kiss too. You clearly have a lot of experience, and I've heard good things." There was a long list of arguments she had composed in her head. But it didn't help much with the way her chest kept constricting on her.

If Bass had figured out that Miles knew what he was doing, was deliberately distracting him with Charlie, he never said--he was too grateful. Most of the time, the mood would pass and he'd just be glad he got through it. The times he wasn't...well, the mood hadn't really passed. Thing generally got better enough that he was glad he was still alive eventually.

Today, even with the darker edges, was one of those days.

"Mmhmm..." he was willing to agree it got better, didn't want to dwell on the things that weren't, not when the sun was shining and he had the trip to look forward to with her, and her hand in his, anchoring him to the good things.

Then, of course, she was talking again and he was thinking about the adventure and then that wasn't at all what she was talking about and he came to an abrupt stop, his hand still around hers and jerking her to a stop with him as he stared at her. "Wait, what?"

Because he had to have imagined what she just said, right?

Distracting Bass with Charlie may've been easier when she was a child, but even as she grew older it was a useful trick. Swimming lessons were followed by hunting lessons, and when Rachel put her foot down about Charlie learning how to use a gun, Bass was the one who taught her how to use that bow of hers. (And, also, Miles always suspected maybe Bass taught her how to use a gun too. Even with the dwindling ammunition it was a good skill to have.) Then there was always the someone has to make sure she doesn't kill herself while being a stupid teenager and drinking in the woods.

Charlie knew Sebastian would react to her words, but she wasn't expecting the sharp yank on her arm and shoulder. She stumbled to a standstill. God, Sebastian was like an immovable object, his feet dug into the ground like the roots of a tree. Her shoulders tensed a little, she would've preferred to have this particular conversation without eye contact.

The plan had been to bring it up once they got to the caves. Perhaps once they'd emptied a fair bit of the tequila bottle and the light was growing dim. Maybe they'd have to cuddle up for warmth. (In the scant hour she had to do her packing, Charlie had done a lot of thinking about this.) But, Sebastian seemed like he needed distracting.

Her eyes shut, and she took a deep and steadying breath before she turned around and flashed him a bright and wide smile. "I think you should teach me how to kiss," she repeated, patiently, her eyes meeting his very steadily. Even though saying the words again made her stomach drop to her knees. The trick here, was to stay confident. "I've been thinking about it, and it makes sense. My first kiss wasn't all that good, so I think I need a do-over. With someone who knows what they're doing." She made a gesture towards him with her free hand. "You were the obvious choice."

After a little tequila, he might not have been so very stunned. The fact that he was pretty sure he should be the one teaching her how to kiss would've made his reaction a lot more gratifying at that point, probably. Not that he looked horrified or anything by the idea, but stunned and bemused, yes.

Though given where his mind had been all morning with the conversation about Bobby and growling at himself for his own jealousy, he couldn't quite hide the spark of interest that flared in his eyes as she repeated herself and clarified. Of course, his mind didn't stop at kissing. She deserved someone who knew what they were doing for all of it.

...The problem, besides the obvious one where Rachel would kill him, was "teaching" implied she was going to go on and use it with someone else and then he'd just have to kill that guy, probably.

"I thought you said he knew what he was doing." Because that was the important thing here? Right, no. Not important. He shook his head at himself and started moving again, hand still around hers, and he tried very hard not to let all the thinking he'd been doing since he suggested the trip show. "Christ, Charlie. I'm old enough to be your father--hell, I'm older than your father. Some people would say my son is too old for you..." He shot her a look. "Miles would kick my ass and your mom would kill me."

It should be noted that nowhere in that did he say anything about not wanting to kiss her. In fact, the way his gaze flicked to her lips more than once seemed to imply just the opposite.

The initial look on Sebastian's face, nearly made Charlie's courage falter. But her persistence was rewarded by that flicker of interest as she re-stated her case. This conversation would have gone so much easier over half a bottle of tequila. But, at least, it provided the distraction she hoped it would.

It was a relief when he kept walking and the spotlight of those blue eyes turned their focus away from her. She felt every glance towards her lips like a heated caress though, her breath hitching with every step even while she tried to keep pace with him. Her thumb brushed lightly across the inside of his wrist.

Walking again, made it easier for Charlie to snort at him, like all his arguments were inconsequential. "One. You're the one who told me Bobby had no idea what he was doing, I have no frame of reference, but I do think I should've enjoyed it more. Two, age equals experience, means you'll be a better teacher." Watch yourself, Monroe. Charlie Matheson has thought this one through and she's not the kind of girl who takes no for an answer. "Three. Unlike my father -- and incidentally, your son -- you're actually kinda hot." Okay, that little admission had a soft blush creeping up her cheeks and her eyes stayed pretty much glued to the road in front of her feet and the dust on the tops of her boots.

"Four--" Here she actually looked back up again. "There's already a really long list of things mom would kill you for if she ever found out about. Like, for instance, letting me get drunk on tequila in a cave. Point is, she's not going to find out. And neither is uncle Miles. 'Cause it's going to be our secret."

Edited 2015-04-20 18:38 (UTC)

The light drag of her thumb over the skin of his wrist was like a branding iron and his whole body reacted to it. Clearly, he needed to get laid more often or something, if he was feeling goosebumps from a brush of her fingers.

"If you didn't really enjoy it, then, yes. He was doing it wrong." It's mostly a mutter, and he's getting that sense of just how much she's thought about that. He's not commenting on his experience, though. His lips did quirk in a smile and he shot her a sideways look when she said he was hot.

"Our secret, huh? So...basically, you want to use me for my experience, but maintain an ability to deny. I see." His lips were still fighting a smile at the almost ridiculousness of the discussion, and teasing was a way for him to catch up to the fact that they were having it at all. "You know, if I were the one saying that, they'd say I was taking advantage of you in all kinds of horrible ways."

"Oh, come on, don't be such a girl." Charlie shot him a teasing grin. "It's only a couple of kisses." She twisted on the path, walking half-backwards in front of him and taking his hand in both of hers. Her thumbs brushed over his knuckles lightly and her expression turned mock-serious. "But if you want to, I'll tell my whole family about it. I'll remember you fondly after mom and Miles have taken you to pieces. Make sure you get a proper burial."

There. She could do light and teasing if that's what he wanted. But, she was too young to fully hide the naked hope in her eyes. She wanted him, so badly it twisted her chest up. Now, she may be a virgin, but she'd seen flirting before. Every time a woman passed by uncle Miles or Sebastian, for instance. (She'd seen how it ended as well. With eager kisses and an early bedtime.) So she knew that the tension between her and Sebastian was wrought with flirting. Or, well. She thought so at least. Maybe.

"I'll make it worth your while." Now, what she could possibly offer him, she had no idea. But she figured she could make something compelling up if he gave her a second or two.

He laughed at that, rewarding her with one of his brighter, sweeter smiles. "Your mom might just at that, yeah. Miles....I think I'd probably get a punch, but when I pointed out how it was your idea and I was just trying to show you what you should expect in a guy so you wouldn't settle for Bobby...he'd see things my way."

After a few more punches, probably, but. Miles also knew Bass wouldn't hurt Charlie for the world, would be careful with her, take good care of her. There's no way he'd have allowed him to take off with her like this if he didn't. Possibly he was banking on Bass not touching her, but Bass found that highly unlikely. Miles had noticed him glaring at Bobby a time or two, knew him well enough to realize Bass's interest was no longer strictly avuncular.

Because, well, yeah. He'd taken to flirting with her. Not really intending to take it where it went with other women in the village--who he'd somehow managed to keep from marrying or starting an outright war. Miles was, as always, duly impressed at Bass's skill at slipping through unhooked. And possibly realized it might be because he already was.

"Oh, will you? Beyond the kissing?" He let his smile take on that flirtatious edge she'd seen him use a hundred (or a thousand) times before, but never fully aimed at her. "That sounds positively scandalous, Charlotte. What are you thinking of using to woo me onto your path of debauchery?"

"I'm not willing to bet on it." Oh, Charlie loved when he smiled like that. All easy and carefree. She sometimes missed the ignorance, of not knowing what shadows could lurk behind a smile; when she was a child all his smiles were like this one in her eyes.

"Uncle Miles can be-- overprotective." Her smile still lingered on her lips, her eyes still wide with innocence. The overprotectiveness is a thing they have in common, Miles and Sebastian. It made playground arguments interesting to say the least. Little Charlie did not always play well with others, but her uncle and 'Bastian always had her back. She could not help but think that Miles would perhaps be a little bit more upset than Sebastian figured about his best friend making out with his niece.

The smile caught Charlie immediately. Oh, how many times she'd watched him flash it at any passably pretty woman, and how she'd always wished he'd smile at her like that. And now he was. Her heart thundered in her chest and for a moment she couldn't think clearly.

Charlie stopped short in front of him, so his next step brought them toe to toe. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted breathlessly. Never breaking eye contact, she dropped one hand from his, shifted the other one, until they were palm to palm. Her fingers slipped between his and curled lightly against the spaces between his knuckles. "Well," she said, dragging the word out into two syllables. She dug her teeth into her lower lip, her gaze dipping to their joined hands. With her free hand, she hooked a finger in his belt loop, thumb brushing lightly over the leather of his belt before she locked back up again. A soft smile played on her lips. "I do have a whole box full of cookies in my bag. Your favorite. I'd be willing to trade. Cookies for kisses."

"Well...I could talk him around, at least," Bass said, still pretty confident. "I mean, I'm his favorite person in the world. That's gotta count for something." And Miles hadn't worked to keep him from swallowing a bullet all these years just to put one in him, himself.

He came to an abrupt stop before he ran her over, eyebrows going up at the stop and shift in her grip, then more at the fingers hooking in his belt look like that. The brush of her thumb was mesmerizing and Bass's mind wasn't on just kissing.

Or cookies at all.

The smile settled into a bit of a smirk, and he lifted his free hand and traced a fingertip along her jawline, to her lips, lingering there. His voice was just a murmur, as the old line came back to him, "If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine..." He shook his head a little, at himself. "I guess cookies for kisses seems fair."

His fingertip brushed over her lower lip before he ducked his head, as if he was going to kiss her, then moved his lips to her ear instead. "Later."

Perhaps Sebastian could talk Miles around, but if Charlie's mom found out-- Man. There would be no stopping her. It was obvious that the four of them -- Charlie's parents, Miles and Sebastian -- were great friends. But her mom was always a little stand-offish towards her husband's brash brother and said brother's best friend. Rachel would not take kindly to Sebastian kissing her only daughter. Even for educative purposes.

A deep tremble ran through Charlie's body at the brush of Sebastian's fingertip. Her eyes widened, chest suddenly aching, and when his finger touched her lips she forgot how to breathe entirely. He never touched her like this. All the flirting she was pretty sure they were doing was all contained to words and the occasional glance or two.

All of the sound bled out of the world, and all she could see were his lips as he leaned in. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she held her breath tight in her lungs, waiting for him to close that final gap between them. An hour earlier, the brush of his lips against the shell of her ear followed by the rush of his hot breath against the same, would've been enough to make her knees go weak. Now, all she could think about was what it wasn't.

"Asshole." She laughed unsteadily and punched his shoulder lightly. She took a step away and started trudging on: having waited for three odd years, she could wait until they hit the caves.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much," she proclaimed, without looking over at him at all. Hey, she paid attention in Mister Pittman's English class. SpongeBob Squarepants might be forever lost to the ages, but the libraries weren't. When people were raiding supermarkets and pharmacies, no one stopped to pack their bags full of books at the local bookstores or libraries. So, when Miles and Sebastian sent out their raiding parties, they came back with wagon-loads of books.

"It's all wrong though," she commented as she picked up the pace. Her thumbs hooked in the straps of her backpack, boots devouring the dirt road beneath them. "Romeo was the one begging for a kiss. Not Juliet." She shot a look over her shoulder. "You're playing the wrong part here."

He laughed when she hit him and pulled back, but it was just a soft sound. "You wanna keep me your dirty little secret, the main road, not so far from the village, isn't the best place to start your education." He fell into step with her easily enough as she trudged off. "When we make camp tonight...now, that's a different story. And one you can think about while we walk. Consider it your first lesson: anticipation makes everything better."

He was pleased she knew her Shakespeare. Had all cultural literacy been lost, he'd have been devastated. Bad enough none of the younger generation got his and Miles' incessant Princess Bride quoting--even after they found them the book and insisted Aaron make it required reading. Apparently the quotability didn't translate quite as well without Cary Elwes or Mandy Patinkin delivering it. They'd acted out the sword-fighting scene, finally, and at least the kids got, You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you./You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die and "Why are you smiling?/Because I know something you don't know./And what is that?/ I... am not left-handed.", but they still missed the rest.

Bass had suggested they put on a play of the whole movie, but for some reason, Miles had refused to play Buttercup.

"Oh, I don't know about that. Depends on just who's wanting the kisses for what, I'd think..."

Oh, Charlie had learned early about anticipation. The feeling the night before Christmas, that little bubble of excitement as she lay down to sleep, was always better than the actual thing. Though nothing in the world could convince her that kissing Sebastian Monroe wouldn't beat all of the dreaming about kissing him in the world. "Dirty little secret has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" She caught his hand with hers again. And, yeah, maybe she picked up her pace a little. It was about time they got to somewhere more private.

"Juliet was the hold out," Charlie reminded him. "She was such a tease though. Totally wanted it as bad as him." She gave him a pointed look. Sound like someone we know?

They spent the rest of the day putting some distance between them and the village. Most of it not speaking about the evening and what was to come. As darkness fell, they picked out a good spot, found fire wood, filled their bottles with water from a nearby river, had dinner from the rations Charlie packed. Through it all, she mentioned nothing about his promise. But, then, as they sat down on the pile of thin blankets they'd brought to ease the sleeping, Charlie turned towards him, chin tilting up as she looked up at him. "Private enough for you?"

Just walking with her hand in his was an oddly amazing thing. Odd, because it had been a while. She'd done it a lot as a kid--really, like anytime they walked together. It made things very, very clear to the other girls in the village he was hers. She'd still do it sometimes as she got older, but for briefer moments or to tug him along somewhere, like she knew the connotations it had.

Creature of touch that he was, he'd missed the simple feel of a hand in his, so, he kept hold of hers as they walked.

By the time they settle in for the night, his own anticipation sings and bubbles through his blood. He'd thought about this from every angle, almost talked himself out of it a dozen times, then talked himself back in. It was just some kissing. Didn't have to be more, and it really was a shame the poor girl had only had substandard kisses 'til now.

The nearness of their blankets only makes sense. The weather's not cold by any means, this time of year, but nights get cooler up here. But tonight it looks more suggestive than usual, or maybe that's just him. Maybe his memory shed nights of innocently kissing, when hands only wandered so far, and you left, aching, but thrilled, before her father came after you with a shotgun. The past and he weren't all that friendly; he didn't like to dwell there. Now, at his age, when you start kissing on blankets by fires, you don't stop 'til you're shuddering and spent.

He steels himself against that, against taking everything she has, tells himself firmly how that would be taking advantage of her and he loves this girl in a way far too complex to explain. He's the trusted adult here, the one in a position of power, and, yes, she's an adult, technically, and hurting her is the last thing he wants, but. He still reminds himself of it, sternly, several times until he's sure he has a handle on it.

"Yeah." He can do just kissing. So he meets her question with a slow smile and shifts so he's turned toward her, sitting cross-legged, and reaches for her hand, giving her just a light tug, an encouragement to come closer, settle on his lap instead of the blanket, 'cause otherwise, this is gonna be an awkward disaster of knocking knees and uncomfortable leaning. "C'mere."

Charlie doubts Sebastian would've thought the hand-holding was cute if he knew the real reason. When she was growing up, he and uncle Miles were forever leaving her. Try explaining to a three-year-old that you have to be gone for eight months because there's a war on. So whenever he came for a visit, she'd put her little pudgy hand in his and hold on. It never worked, of course, at the end of the night he always ended up leaving. Then the Blackout happened and her parents kept having to explain to her that while they were sure that uncle Miles and Sebastian were looking for them, the world was a big place right now, and it was easy to get lost. In a new, scary and dark world, Charlie could barely sleep for all the nightmares.

Then, they came. Uncle Miles and Sebastian, and Charlie's world got a little brighter. So, when she kept hold of his hand? It wasn't to show anyone that he was hers (well, it was that too, as she got older) it was to keep him from ever leaving her again. As she got older, Rachel had a very long talk with her about what handholding meant. It was okay with family, like her father, Danny or uncle Miles. But, with Sebastian, it would just send the wrong message. So. Charlie started keeping it to a minimum. To whenever she couldn't contain herself.

The day passes in kind of a blur. It's nice, walking in the sun with his hand warm in hers, and they're laughing and joking. But all she can think about is the evening. Her heart keeps skipping beats, and she finds herself sneaking glances over and up at him whenever he isn't looking. She probably spends more time thinking about his lips than is really healthy.

Then they're on the blankets in the firelight, and she's filled with light and need and it's like a thousand nights before Christmas and lying in bed listening to her family assembling her birthday cake all wrapped into one. Her heart actually stops in her chest when he takes her hand and tugs her in, and the smile she gives him is one part shy and a thousand parts stunned. She lets out a nervous laugh, her lips parting breathlessly, and then she climbs into his lap with far less grace than she cares to admit. She ends up with her legs locked around his waist, her lower arms braced against his shoulders and towering over him just a little. She flicks her tongue across her lips. She can practically feel her heart hammering against her chest like it was begging to be let out.

"So," she asks breathlessly, eyes wide, "How do we-- What now?"

It wouldn't have been as cute, no--but he would've understood. You say goodbye to your family after a week home and laugh about all the things you'll do at Christmas, tease your sister about meeting her new boyfriend, if she manages to keep him around that long because everyone knows she breaks up with them when Miles is coming home on the off-chance that he'll notice her...and then Thanksgiving Day you get a call and you barely hear the words because they can't make sense in your head and your best friend has to take over because the world's gone upside down.

The Blackout had been easier.

So...holding on tightly to someone to keep them from leaving? He got that. He'd been doing it to Miles most of his life, but definitely since 2010.

He didn't expect her to straddle him like that, press their bodies together quite so intimately, and the feel of her there makes thoughts fly out of his head. Other parts of his anatomy are not so useless, though it'd be nice if, for once, it didn't have to take such interest.

"Uh..." His hands settle on her waist, like he's thinking about lifting her up, shifting her position, but he can't think of a reason to give her for a moment, and swallows. "Um, not that way--sit, not straddle--your knees will thank you later, trust me..."

Her ass will still end up perilously near his dick, but it won't be quite so obvious, hopefully.

"Later? How long you planning on doing this?" Charlie teases to cover how suddenly flustered she feels. God. She did it wrong. She climbed into his lap and somehow got it wrong. Great start, Charlie. Truly. Even more awkwardly than she climbed on top of him, she frees one leg from around him and settles down in his lap.

If she hadn't been a virgin, she may've noticed the part of him suddenly paying attention, but as it was, it didn't quite register. Her cheeks feel too hot and she looks down at her hands, her fingers twisting in the hem of her tank top. "Uh. Is this better?" She darts a glance up at him, then looks away again, suddenly self-conscious. Being in his lap kinda makes it worse too. It's pretty hard feigning confidence when you're sitting in someone's lap like you're a damn five-year-old.

But, thankfully, the warmth from earlier still simmers in her chest. She'll happily face all kinds of humiliations if, by the end of them, she is rewarded with his lips against hers. She looks up again, a hand fluttering up to hesitate over the side of his throat before she settles it on his shoulder instead. "So now--"

Edited (icon) 2015-04-26 03:33 (UTC)

I can chat with you baby / Flirt a little maybe [For staystanding]

Oh, this is perfect.

Yay!

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I had a long-ass tag written out. I hit post. I thought it posted. It ate it instead. >.< Stupid DW

Goddammit, DW. :(

Then I typed THIS one out...& the cat stepped on the keyboard, hit the "back" key & erased it

... Wow. Seems the universe is conspiring against this thread

It certainly is determined to make it challenging

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