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The Beginning
Three weeks.
Dee's been indoors for three weeks.
Well, mostly indoors. Although she's not really sure that a weekly trip to the grocery store and a 15 minute walk every day really counts as 'going outside' anyway.
What she is sure about, though, is that she's bored shitless.
It was fun, at first. Well, as fun as it could be in the situation. All bars were closed and service staff were furloughed, so she got to sit on her ass all day AND get paid for it, which was pretty sweet. She'd finished a book within the first week (she ended up hating it, but that's besides the point), took up yoga and wellness in the second (she ended up hating that too - too much effort and Dee thought the video instructor was up herself) and this week Dee has been occupying herself by trying her hand at baking - she's not sure if she hates it yet, because her banana bread is still in the oven, and the smell is not quite what she thought it'd be.
She's lounging on the sofa while it bakes, mindlessly flicking through the TV (If everybody is inside why are they putting on the worst shows ever, she thinks with a scowl as she finds yet another 'Friends' rerun) when there's an urgent sounding knock at the door. She ignores it, but it knocks again, somehow even louder than before. By the third knock she's considering yelling 'fuck off' to whoever's on the other side, but just as she opens her mouth to do so, a familiar screeching voice erupts from behind the door.
"Dee, you gotta let me in!"
She furrows her brows, putting down the remote.
"Charlie?"
She makes her way to the door and peers through the peephole. Nothing seems to be immediately wrong - the man's intact(well, as intact as Charlie can be), bouncing on his heels impatiently as he waits for Dee to answer, checking an invisible watch on his wrist.
I'm gonna regret this, Dee thinks as she decides to open the door, and she's correct; Charlie barrels in without saying so much as a hello, dumping a trash bag in the hallway and shrugging off his jacket before standing before her with his hands on his hips expectantly. Dee covers her nose and mouth as best she can with her sleeve, staying as far from him as possible (god knows what he's been up to during quarantine, probably going to the sewers or under the bridge where all the other weirdos go).
"Charlie! What are you doing? What is that?" She gestures with her other hand to the bag between them on the floor.
"Uh, I'm staying with you?" He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Oh no. No way.
"Y-you can't do that! You gotta get out of here, you could be infected!"
"Chill out Dee, I've not left the apartment in three weeks. I know the importance of biological hazards." He says with a hand on his chest and a pride in his voice that he absolutely should not have.
"Charlie, you kill rats for a living- hold on, three weeks straight?"
"Yeah."
"Not even for groceries?"
"Nope." He says with a grin.
"Ugh-" Dee suppresses a gag at the various images crossing her mind of how Charlie and Frank could have possibly survived without leaving their apartment at all - it's not pretty.
Hang on, that's a point.
"What about Frank? You should go back to him right now." She says triumphantly, glad to finally have a scheme to remove Charlie from her apartment ASAP.
Except Charlie starts talking at a million miles an hour:
"Well, it was cool with Frank for a while - we played nightcrawlers everyday, we watched TV, we adopted all the neighbourhood cats, but then Frank started complaining about having nobody to bang, so he started calling in hookers every other day to pass the time, but then he got super weird about me hiding in the closet while they banged 'cause I don't want to see that shit-"
"Frank kicked you out, didn't he?"
"Frank kicked me out."
Dee sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"What about Mac and Dennis' place?"
"I called but they said they didn't have any room. Even though I'm convinced Mac doesn't sleep in his own bedroom anymore, but whatever..."
"So you came to me as a last resort?" Dee scoffs. Charlie just shrugs again.
"I don't know. Have you heard of a bubble?" He says, burying his hands in his pockets. "It's allowed for people who live alone so they don't go crazy, so I just thought, you know...you're on your own, going all crazy and shit..."
"I am not going crazy, Charlie-oh god, the banana bread!"
Her (in her opinion) superbly acted lie is interrupted by the smoke alarm going off, blaring at a painful volume, and a few seconds later the sprinklers are going off too, blasting water into the apartment and drenching both of them instantly. They both sprint to the kitchen, where black smoke is churning out of Dee's oven, and Charlie immediately springs into action, well rehearsed in fire control after countless explosions and god knows what else at the bar, ordering her to stay back and putting out the minor flame in the oven with a wet dishcloth.
He extracts the (now chargrilled) banana bread, plopping it onto the kitchen counter. They both stare at it for a moment as the sprinklers shut off, leaving them sopping wet.
"Not going crazy huh?" He says, raising an eyebrow at her and flicking his hair out of his eyes. "You just set your apartment on fire, Dee."
"Yeah, because you came in and distracted me!"
"It would have happened anyway. Did you even set a timer?" He asks matter-of-factly, and Dee hesitates, unable to look him in the eye. She did not think to set a timer, and the wry smile on his face tells her that he knew that.
"Look, I think this is a good idea." He insists. "Let me keep you company!"
Dee considers it. Even though she knows he's probably laying it on thick right now because he literally has nowhere else to go, he does have a point. Sure, she'd enjoyed this long-overdue break from the gang (three weeks is a long time after seeing the same people every day for nearly twenty years), but she had to admit it was getting kinda...quiet all on her own. She may be able to cope now by herself, but what about months down the line? It would be nice to have a companion in all of this.
...but then again, does she want Charlie to be that companion? She gets a sudden reminder of what happend the last time they were holed up spending time together, and it was...something else. It had been a little awkward between them since, actually - neither had bothered to ever bring it up again, almost actively avoiding one another. Would 'bubbling' together make it even more awkward, or worse, make them hate each other?
"Think about it, we've spent time together before or whatever, we're a good team," He says nonchalantly, fanning the smoke off the still burning banana bread. "Honestly, aside from Frank, I hate living with anyone else from the gang. Dennis is a control freak and Mac's always making gross noises with that dick bike, and I don't like the idea of you being on your own..."
He trails off then, and looks down at his feet, suddenly shy. Dee feels her resolve crumbling - Charlie's always seemed like a beaten up puppy to her, always shunned by the rest of the gang and forced to do the shitty things they want him to do - she just feels bad knowing no one else will take him in. And his concern for her is oddly sort of charming.
She doesn't say any of this, of course. Instead she just sighs and says:
"Fine. But take your shoes off before you sleep on my couch. I'm gonna go crazy on my own anyway, so I may as well have someone to do it with me..."
She rolls her eyes at the grin that spreads across his face before he jogs to the front door to toe off his decade-old sneakers.
They spend the rest of their first day living together drying everything damaged by the water sprinklers with Dee's hairdryer, and Charlie eats the burnt banana bread for dinner so it 'doesn't go to waste'.
It was gonna be a long few months, wasn't it?
Month One
Charlie isn't diffucult to live with, per-se - in fact, Charlie's needs are fairly simple. It's more that those simple needs have to be met in a very un-simple way.
Eating, for example, is a lottery in itself; Charlie makes her add cat food, cheese, chocolate, jelly beans, beer, milk and steak to the weekly shopping list - which are totally normal things(aside from the cat food, but that's a write-off for Charlie). Except Charlie doesn't always eat these things normally - he kicks her out of the kitchen on multiple occasions when she 'messes up' various 'dishes' he's Frankenstein'ed together (although she's fairly certain that milk steak is just a messed up idea in the first place). She puts an extra bottle of wine on the list shortly after that for her own sanity.
Charlie also sleeps a lot - to the point of inconvenience. On the first few mornings she'd shook him awake so she could get to the couch (much to his annoyance), but after that she just gives up, resigning to her bed or the kitchen table until he wakes up at whatever time he deems suitable - she figures that if there's nothing to do and nowhere to go, what's the point of schedule? It's probably an unhealthy mindset to get into, but whatever, this is a bizarre situation to live in anyways, and living with Charlie in general is just another level of bizarre on top of the pandemic. For such a small man who brought so little stuff with him(alongside the jacket he was wearing when he arrived, he brought exactly four pairs of boxers, five pairs of mismatched socks, three t-shirts, his ratty long johns, one pair of jeans, his sneakers and his suit and tie - the last of which he'd defended by saying "You never know when you need a suit, Dee."), Charlie somehow manages to fill the entire apartment with it, and some of it is just plain weird, like a whole set of kitten mittons, and a Venus fly trap.
Dee has to set some ground rules after finding the rat bashing stick (with fresh rat on it - Charlie had "put it in the bath to dry out" apparently) and two very odd, very dirty socks in the shower: if he keeps his shit to the living room (and the rat bashing stick outside), she'll do his laundry when he needs it. Once upon a time Dee wouldn't even dream of doing anyone elses laundry, but desperate times call for desperate measures - if she has to be in the same apartment as him for god knows how long, she wants to keep his grossness to a minimum. Somehow, Charlie agrees, and keeps his stuff in the living room - mostly. Sure, it's more cramped than before, but to be honest Dee is used to having people in her apartment all the time, and Charlie can't stand being by himself, so it kind of works, and somehow they don't kill each other by the end of the first month, which Dee considers a success.
Month Two
Soon enough after that, a routine - albeit a semi-fucked-up sort of one - forms;
Dee wakes up naturally, usually mid to late morning. Depending on Charlie's body clock, he'll either be awake already or still sleeping by the time she makes her way to the kitchen. S ometimes they have breakfast together, but ever since Charlie insisted on teaching her how to make a grilled Charlie that one time, they cook their own (Dee had said she'd rather have it without cheese, which made Charlie absolutely irate, and they didn't talk for the rest of that day. Of all the arguments they'd had in quarantine - which was a lot - that was their worst one so far).
They while away the days doing whatever - of course, they have their own space, but they always end up drifting back together at some point - Charlie always gets obsessively invested in the latest hobby Dee's ordered online. Among other things, so far they've tried crochet(predictably, Dee did not like it, but Charlie, being good with his motor skills and sewing in general, took a shine to it and knitted himself a new winter hat, as well as four more mittons), painting (Charlie loved it but Dee found it too messy) and on one occasion Charlie insisted on trying to style Dee's hair after seeing someone with braids on TV - the activity gets cut short because he discovers her bald spot from that time her braid got ripped off, and he can't stop laughing.
By the end of the day they're usually drinking. Sometimes Charlie huffs glue, sometimes they share a cigarette out the window (they don't want a repeat of the smoke alarm debacle again), and very occasionally he leaves the apartment for weed, but usually they just put on some TV and get increasingly drunk until they just give up and go to bed.
Yes, it's a dumb routine, but it gives her once-empty days a sort of structure, and even though she hates to admit it, Charlie is probably the only person in the gang she can stand to be around for so long, and he is sort of good company.
Goddamnit, she hates when he's right.
Month Three
They don't really talk to the gang too much, only calling once or twice a week, and usually it's just Mac and Dennis playing them their mediocre-at-best country songs, which is a total buzzkill. On one occasion Dee and Charlie decide to try and organise a quiz for them all to do, but it goes just about as well as you'd expect: Frank can't figure out how to turn his camera on, and once they finally start Dennis and Mac immediately start accusing Dee and Charlie of cheating even though they're the ones asking the questions, and then Frank can't turn his sound off when another hooker turns up, and once they finally kick him from the call Mac theatrically declares his boredom and Dennis agrees before immediately hanging up. They stick to just talking to them after that, and even that's a challenge.
While Dee still has to periodically remind him to shower (which is often replied to with a surprised "Oh yeah, that!"), and his stuff is still strewn about the place, the kitchen and bathroom are always a manageable level of clean. She clocks it up to the fact that he must miss cleaning the bar (or more likely, huffing the bleach while he cleans). She doesn't complain.
They also acquire a few stray cats, which Charlie is pleased about and Dee is decidedly not. To be honest they don't really come inside the apartment, just stay outside where Charlie leaves the food and milk, but there is a bit of racket at night. Dee learns to sleep through it eventually(but NOT by using Charlie's cat-food-and-glue-huffing method, which she never intends to try again).
They get addicted to a shitty TV show, too; it was only a matter of time. In their defence, they didn't mean to - Dee showed Charlie the first episode just to tell him how dumb it was and to go on about how much better at acting she is than the people on screen, but as the first episode progressed their conversation had fizzled out, and by the time the 'next episode' button appeared, they shared a silent nod of agreement. Somehow it became part of their daily routine - after dinner (where they've made some progress and sometimes eat the same meal now), Dee would switch on an episode (or five) and they would discuss it afterwards, making theories about what would happen next and bitching about the villains and twists. Sure, she has to explain the plot to him sometimes, but it gives them something to bond over and work towards - the two of them clearly have addictive personalities so it works for them, she figures, and at least every day is different.
Sort of.
Month Four
Inspired by Mac and Dennis' musical endeavours, Charlie returns from a trip out one day with his keyboard, which is really the final nail in the coffin. He starts writing a 'Covid Musical' and makes it his new project, enlisting Dee as his co-star to fill in the other half of the duets, which she does so releuctantly.
She hates how she finds herself humming his songs in the shower despite them being about a global pandemic, and how she's grown to like his singing voice despite its nasally sort of tone.
However, what she hates the most is how much she's grown to like having Charlie around - having a bit of commotion, even if it is nonsense songs and the most random topics of conversation, fills the space in a weirdly cosy sort of way. Her upstairs neighbours keep banging on the ceiling whenever they practice the songs together, but she doesn't care. It's nice.
Oh god, she really must be going crazy.
Month Five
When it's much safer to do so, Charlie risks a trip back to his apartment for a couple of days to spend some time with Frank. Dee appreciates it - it's nice to take a small break from one another. She cleans and tidies the living room and kitchen, has a long bath, and paints her toenails, so that's a nice change.
However she's mostly pleased because now that she has the entire apartment to herself for a bit, she can finally take care of some...personal business. She's wound up - it wasn't that she hadn't done so this entire time, but it was rare nowadays - it was just too awkward, with someone else around.
Problem is, she can't focus as she touches herself properly for the first time in weeks, and it's just infuriating. Dee's not one for porn, mainly because the dude always gets treated the best which pisses her off, so she sticks to her own fantasies. She tries imaging hersef banging Josh Groban, or the hot guy from the show they're watching, and then both at the same time. but nothing seems to do it. She concludes that she's probably in a habit of trying to get the job done quickly in case someone (i.e. Charlie) walks in at any moment.
She wonders if Charlie has been dealing with similar issues to her, actually - there's barely any room for privacy in her apartment, so if he was getting himself off, he was probably using the shower like she had been doing so far-
And then a vivid (but not unwelcome) image of him jerking himself off in the shower(her shower) pops into her mind, his head arched back and jaw slack as his moans get muffled by the running water.
And then she's reminded of when they slept together, how his eyes had rolled back in his head as she sunk down onto him, and the little moans he'd made, and the way his hands had clung to her hips and pulled her down while he fucked up into her and then oh- she's coming.
Fuck. Shit.
She blames it all on cabin fever and the fact that Charlie has been the only male within fifty feet for months on end.
Yeah, that's definitely it.
Month Five-and-a-half
"Holy shit! That's so fucked up, Dee!"
"Oh my god!"
"That's such a dick move, bro. Surely Stacey would tell Kyle that's his kid?!"
"No. You see, Kyle is getting married to Alice, who he cheated on her with."
"But Alice has no idea that her brother slept with Stacey either! Oh my god, I'm on the edge of my seat here, Dee."
They both gasp, stunned into silence as on the screen before them, the season finale of their TV show comes to a thrilling conclusion at a wedding ceremony - a heavily pregnant Stacey storming in the back doors of the church to shout that her baby is the groom's.
They're huddled together on Dee's tiny couch, popcorn bowl propped between where their thighs just meet. God knows how many hours its been since they started watching today, but it's pitch black now aside from the blue glow of the screen on their faces, and even though Dee is literally moments from sleep, she has to see how it's going to end.
The final shot before the credits roll is Kyle and Stacey sharing a passionate kiss, evidently getting together in the end after all.
"Oh, that's bullshit!" Dee yells. "I watched eighteen seasons for that?"
"I totally knew that would happen." Charlie says smugly, popping more popcorn into his mouth with a smirk.
Dee scoffs.
"Sure you did, Charlie. I had to explain this whole season to you."
He shrugs.
"It's obvious. They've been friends the whole time but secretly loved each other, banged once, and now that Stacey has a kid he realises just how much they were supposed to be together." He mumbles through another mouthful of popcorn.
His clearly deliberate choice of words puts her on edge - what the heck is that supposed to mean?
She glances over at him, but he's looking away, still intensely watching the show. She notes how the light from the TV highlights his profile; the curve of his nose and his deep-set eyes, tinted more blue than green in the reflection of the screen, his face less slim but still angular with age, his slightly-too-long hair falling across his forehead (she hasn't cut it for him in a while), and his freckles: when did he have so many? Since when was Charlie Kelly cute?
And was he trying to get with her right now?
Charlie turns to her then, clearly aware he's being watched. Dee doesn't quite have the time to turn away so they end up just sharing a weird look. Dee's reminded of the puppy again, his eyes confused, wide and shiny. She's also reminded of the amazing orgasm she had whilst thinking about him the other day, and is suddenly very glad the dark room is hiding her blush.
"Supposed to be together huh?" Dee asks with a laugh, trying to diffuse some of the sudden tension.
"Sure." Charlie's deer-in-headlights stare turns into a soft gaze, the corner of his mouth quirking up, clearly amused. She blames it all on being deliriously tired, the way she lets her guard down and smiles back at him, enjoying the moment. The way her eyes dart to his lips. He inches closer, but before she can even think to reciprocate, her eyes start drooping closed, and before she knows it, she's falling into a dreamless sleep on his shoulder.
She's slightly startled awake when she feels the sensation of being carried, and she supposes she's right because she wakes the next morning tucked into her own bed, and she's alarmed at the feeling of affection that blooms in her chest when she sees two cups of coffee on the kitchen table.
No, she says to herself desperately. No, not Charlie, anyone but him. He literally sits beside you on the couch eating cat food, he enjoys hanging around in the sewers, he's fucked you over multiple times, you are better than this. We're just holed up, the only two people living here, spending time together on projects, and singing that damn musical together, and it's actually not that bad, and that one time we slept together doesn't count, and....
She takes a sip of her drink, and it's actually good. Made exactly how she likes it.
Shit.
Month Six
She tries to separate herself after her little realisation that she may actually, possibly be interested in Charlie(as a person, not just banging him). She really does try, except it's very hard to separate ones-self from someone in a one bedroom apartment during a pandemic.
She downloads tinder, sends some nudes to random guys (with little response), and on one occasion she even tries convincing a guy at the grocery store to sleep with her, but he's adamant they don't break quarantine rules. The bar opens back up part-time, which she hoped would help, but aside from their usual five daily customers, it's empty, and even though Charlie goes off and does his own thing, they end up coming back home together anyway.
And then they inevitably get pulled into another scheme, because furlough has stopped since the bar opened, and money is running thin. Dee suggests that they start making face masks (the medical kind), but even with their tiktok promotion (Dee is once again upset that her excellent acting is ignored by the world) it's a massive flop, so begrudgingly, they take Charlie's approach to the whole thing and go down the costume route.
They get an order, which is great news. Charlie asks (begs) her to help him make "like, three costumes", except the order is not for three costumes. It's for twelve. They end up working for three days straight, making these bizarre scarves and hats and god knows what else out of some weird smelling raccoon pelts Charlie has been working on in the basement of the bar. It reminds her of days long gone, when she tried (and failed) to get her dress designs ready for Fatty Magoo, when her and Charlie had been in a similar situation sewing like crazy. (She also thinks of the time Charlie sort of asked her to sleep with him, a decade ago, but that is not what's important right now).
The living room is a mess - two sewing machines set up, fabric and thread everywhere, and in the middle of it all is Charlie sewing like crazy with eight out of ten fingers taped up, and Dee utterly clueless beside him. The usual.
"What do you need?" She asks , helpless and frustrated.
"The pelts! The pelts, you bitch!" He'd yelled, clutching said pelts in his fists. "Oh, you insufferable bitch!"
And for some reason the use of that word enrages her - after all this time indoors, and many many arguments, he's still never said that word once. She's worked up and confused about him already, and this is just the straw on the camel's back.
"Hey, fuck you, Charlie, I didn't even wanna do this shit! I wanted to make masks!" She explodes. "I know you're seeing Dennis again, so it's cool now to insult me or whatever, but I thought you were better than that. I thought we were cool now. Goddamnit-"
She gets up, switching off her machine and ripping the weird garment from it with a satisfying sound before throwing it across the room and getting up to storm to her bedroom.
Except Charlie stands too, his hand enclosing around her wrist.
"Hey, Dee!"
"Let go, Charlie." She snaps, glaring at him.
"Come on, Dee, don't-"
They share that look again, the one from the other week. He licks his lips, suddenly sincere.
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you that."
She gives him an unimpressed look, still sort of mad, but when she doesn't respond, he soldiers on.
"It's just that we need these done by the weekend, and you know, it just came over me, and I didn't mean it, really."
There's a pause. And he looks so damn sincere and distraught that Dee places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him squarely on the lips, deciding that now is as good a time as any to just go for what she's been wanting to do again for so long.
After he realises what's going on a couple of seconds later, he kisses her back with enthusiasm, his hands flying up to capture her face, a hum in his throat. The scary thing about it is how easily they fall back into rhythm, as if it hasn't been years since they last did it.
"That was uh..." Charlie mumbles when they pull apart for air. "Nice. And also unexpected."
"Yep." She nods. "So, I uh, I forgive you. Sort of exploded there."
"It's cool." Charlie says, eyes travelling to her mouth. "So...do you wanna-"
"Yep."
They're kissing again, and this time Charlie immediately presses his tongue to her lips until she opens them to let him in. It is sort of awkward because they're both sweaty from all the intense work they've been doing, and he still has two pairs of glasses on and his dumb bandana, and it's a little bit sloppier than she'd like, but she finds it kind of hot - the messiness and weirdness and eagerness and suddenness of this whole thing is a lot like Charlie himself, and somehow that makes Dee's stomach flutter, knowing it's him.
His hands ghost over her waist before setting on her hips and lowering her onto the couch. She lands on her back with a thump, and she reaches beneath her to pull out one of the discarded pelts she'd landed on, throwing it somewhere across the room.
They finally remove his accessories (and his t-shirt too, just to move things along faster) and it's a lot easier for Dee to get into it after that, her hands exploring his body almost as if on instinct, gripping his wide shoulders and surprisingly toned arms. He nudges open her legs so he can fit between them, and he grinds down, one hand on her waist to anchor her towards him. She's not so young and naïve that that does anything particularly effective, especially with the layers of denim between them, but after months of no physical contact, it's already building anticipation.
"Can I-" He asks, nodding towards her chest. "I have some stuff I wanna try. I've been uh...thinking about it."
"Y-yeah, sure..." She mumbles, deciding to ignore Charlie's confession for now and unpack it later.
She feels his lips travel down her neck, nipping and sucking curiously as he goes (she feels his grin against her skin whenever he makes her yelp) before finally pawing at her shirt to remove it and settling his lips at the peak of her breasts, just above her bra. He pulls a cup down and ducks his head, teasing his tongue across her now exposed nipple, before doing the same on the other side.
She gasps in surprise at the sudden sensation, which only encourages him more - he pants and mewls hotly against her skin, working her up, and before long she finds her own hips twitching upwards for some friction. He obliges her, bringing his hand to her jeans and messing with the button and zipper and tugging them down and off her legs. Dee wishes she'd worn something other than her everyday panties but something tells her he doesn't care - he wastes no time in pushing aside her underwear and exploring her with his fingers - ironically, the only two not taped up.
"Oh, you are wet, Dee." He teases, awe tinging his smug tone. "Didn't know I turned you on so much. I knew you were into it the other day."
"Shut up, Charlie." She says, trying to be scathing, and she is still sort of mad, but her voice shakes as he plunges his fingers into her without warning, and she gasps at suddenly being filled with something after so long. Not to mention that Charlie's hands are larger than expected for a man of his size.
"What was that?" He asks, grinning, eyes ablaze. She holds onto the last shred of dignity she has as she hisses her response.
"I said shut up."
"You want me to shut up? Okay..."
He finds a way to shut up, alright. He moves down and opens his mouth so his tongue can join his fingers, flattening it and running a stripe across her clit.
"Oh, you bastard..." She whispers, writhing against him, almost already overwhelmed by the stimulation. She tries not to recall what he's eaten that day as his tongue flicks and circles her, focusing instead on chasing an orgasm, letting him bring her closer and closer to the edge. He's surprisingly skilled(but he always has been with his hands), moving his fingers in tandem with his tongue, twisting and scissoring them for a more-than-pleasant stretch.
"Fuck, Dee..." He mumbles against her thigh when he comes up for breath, and that's when she makes the mistake of looking down. She almost hoped to be totally bugged-out to see his head between her legs, the reality of it all making her run for the hills and see how crazy she was being, but if anything the opposite occurs - it just turns her on more. She plunges her hands into his messy hair and he springs back into action with a little growl, closing his eyes and continuing with a razor-sharp focus that has her reeling. He glances up at her for a split second before sucking on her clit and curling his fingers in just the right way, and that's when she comes, surprising them both. Her thighs shake and she moans but he doesn't stop, continuing to stroke her through it until she pushes him away.
He sits back a little, his beard and lips visibly wet. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and then stares at his fingers with an intrigued gaze before licking them clean with a gentle hum. Shit, that's hot.
"You're good at this." she says, surprised, looking down to him.
He rolls his eyes.
"Oh thanks, Dee. I do have some skills, you know."
She raises an eyebrow.
"You learnt it from Tatiana, didn't you?"
Charlie shrugs.
"Okay, yeah, she knew her stuff." He frowns a little, then, brows furrowed in concern. "You do still wanna bang, right? Now that you've uh..." He gestures towards her crotch vaguely, "You know."
It's her turn to roll her eyes.
"Yeah, I still wanna bang. Do you still wanna bang, though?" She knows enough about Charlie's past to know that it's probably best for him to make the decision here.
Charlie blushes.
"Yeah, I do. I uh...I've kinda wanted to for a while. Like, since the last time." He scratches the back of his head.
Dee's expression softens a little.
"Me too."
"Really? You don't mean that."
"I do, Charlie. Honest. You think I'd let you get this far if I didn't wanna bang?"
"I dunno, you could be lying." He says, but she can tell he's joking from the way be tries to hide a smile. "But I can tell you were into it."
She gives him a shove and he shoots her this absolutely charming boyish grin before he leans over her again, pulling her panties down and then undoing his jeans, which are utterly wrecked and ripped at the kneecaps.
"Jesus Charlie, how long have you had these?" She asks as he kicks them off, narrowly avoiding kneeing her in the face. At least his boxers are relatively new, and leave nothing to the imagination - there's already a wet patch at the front.
"That's none of your business-" He's cut off by a groan when she finally reaches beneath them to feel his length, palming him a little before pulling him out fully and stroking him to full hardness. He pulls the boxers off, too, and he leans down to kiss her hard before lining up with her entrance.
In usual Charlie style he wastes no time, and bottoms out on the first thrust with a hiss and a soft 'shit'. Dee's thankful that he already made her come because she hasn't taken a cock in a long long time (well, a real one at least) and Jesus, he's thicker than she remembers.
He holds still for a second, breath short.
"You good?" He asks.
She nods frantically. "Yeah."
"Good."
She fully expects him to start fucking her like a jackhammer, but he takes a steady pace, not dissimilar to how it had been last time. One of his hands clamps over the back of the couch, and his other forearm rests flat beside her head. It's good, and she wraps her legs around his hips so he can get a good angle.
She tugs on his hair and he releases a broken moan, his rhythm stuttering.
"Oh fuck, do that again."
So she does. He whimpers, and she buries into his neck, sucking and kissing at his throat and his jaw to work him up a bit more. His skin is a bit salty from the sweat they worked up from sewing, but she doesn't mind.
"Shit, stop-" He says suddenly, stilling almost entirely, and Dee panics.
"You alright?"
He nods frantically, a breathless chuckle escaping him.
"Yeah, no, it's just that..." He blushes, "I'm gonna come if I do that any more. And this is really good, so I want it to last longer. Hold on."
He takes a moment to compose himself, slowly rolling his hips. It's good, but then he seems to get an idea. He slides almost entirely out of her, to the tip, and then suddenly thrusts back in to the hilt.
They both gasp.
"Oh, that was good. Try that." Dee squeaks.
So he does it again. And again. They didn't do it like this before - he's taking his time with her, moving at this agonisingly slow pace(although not really by choice: if the look on his face is anything to go by, he's holding on for dear life); she can feel every movement, every inch and ridge of him at this speed, and she has to admit it is good, to feel sex after so long, to actually savour it.
"Fuck." He spits.
Suddenly he's up on his knees, hooking a hand under her thigh to spread her legs wider, fingers gripping roughly into her skin in the best way. The change in angle is lovely, going a bit deeper, and he watches her every reaction with curious eyes and his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze torn between watching her face and staring at where he's inside her - his pupils are blown so wide it looks like he's taken something. Dee blushes, feeling exposed under his honest gaze - this is not her usual style. She's used to being on top and in control, feeling powerful, or doing it doggy style at top speed so she can get it over with, but now, she feels vulnerable underneath him, on display. It's too intimate, more like lovemaking than banging, but she guesses that makes more sense given who she's doing this with.
"You're so fucking pretty. Shit." He murmurs. She feels herself twitch around him at that, can't help her selfish nature when she's complimented and praised, and he smirks.
"I felt that, you vain bitch."
He groans, almost in irritation, before punctuating his point with a particularly hard thrust and doubling his efforts, his eyes rolling back into his head when she clenches around him again in retaliation. He finally brings his fingers to her clit and it makes her whine.
"Oh, that's better." He grunts, a devilish smile on his face, his voice lower and more gravelly than before - oh shit, he's hot. How is he hot? It should be her taking control of him, not the other way round; why is she loving the way he's staring at her like he wants to devour her?
He's speeding up again now, and she can feel her second orgasm building with his still surprisingly skilful touch- they're slowly unravelling from an orchestrated act into a desperate fuck, his hands grabbing for purchase on her thighs and hers on his hips, pulling him somehow deeper. He leans forward to growl breathlessly in her ear:
"Come on, Sweet Dee. Girls can come twice, you gotta finish first or I'm gonna bust-"
Of course it's the nickname that sends her over the edge - she feels a mortifying gush around him as he rips a second orgasm from her, harder than before, and his eyelids flutter as he watches her, feels her squeeze around him, that same look of wonder in his eyes.
Except this time it's laced with lust - and panic.
"Dee.." He pants, breath ragged, hanging on by a thread. "Where-"
"I'm on the pill." She blurts.
"Not risking it."
He pulls out anyway, and he doesn't even need to use his hands to finish - he just spurts onto her stomach and chest with a high-pitched moan. She watches through hooded eyes - the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the flex of muscles in his neck and shoulders as he grips the couch above her head, the way his eyes roll back and lips curl around his teeth.
He flops down beside her afterwards - they catch their breath in silence.
"That was...intense." She says quietly.
He hums a note of agreement.
"I'll say."
He wipes his hand on one of the pelts that was strewn on the sofa. Dee grimaces but ignores it for now, too blissed out to be mad.
"This was just one time, Dee. Just to..." He shudders, clearly still having some aftershocks, "...relieve the tension, yanno?"
"Sure, yeah. One time thing, it's been months."
"A one-time thing. And I'm still sorry I called you a bitch, that was uncalled for."
"I already forgave you, idiot ."
They both stare at the ceiling, then, unsure what to do next - but when he leans over to press a soft kiss to her lips, it feels right.
"I didn't think we did this anymore, but I kinda like that we did." He says quietly, a small smile on his lips.
"Me too." She whispers. "Now please get me a towel, I'm not using the pelts."
Month Seven
It was not a one time thing. It was a two, three, four time thing, and after that they lost count.
Charlie's excuse at first was that they hadn't 'utilised the space enough':
"Hey Dee, wanna bang in the shower? It's super slippery in there, you'll love it."
"What about the bed? I heard thats a good place, super bouncy."
"Dee, have you ever fucked on a kitchen table?...What do you mean? I know we eat there, that's the thrill."
But after that, they just banged because they enjoyed it.
They actually talked about it, too, which was pretty cool: Charlie likes it being 'casual' because he doesn't feel pressure to do anything he doesn't want to(although he often does want to do it), and Dee likes it...well. Dee likes it because she also isn't too keen to label it - she's not scared of commitment or anything(mostly), but Charlie's different. He's a long-time friend, and it would be super weird to change the gang dynamic.
She also doesn't want to hurt him if something goes wrong - because when that time inevitably comes it will be her fault, she knows it- but she'd never admit that.
They do cuddle more now, though, which is definitely new. Charlie still decides when it happens, but it's becoming more frequent as time goes on: he likes Dee's 'long arms' wrapping around him during movies, which she tries not to take offence to, and she supposes he's quite soft to nuzzle into sometimes - his shirts are soft from years of wear. He still sleeps on the couch(his choice), but sometimes if they do it in bed he'll decide to stay. He does, however, always absolutely insist on being the big spoon despite being five-five, which Dee finds hilarious but also strangely cute.
So yeah, it's casual, but also sort of not casual, and that seems to work for them. It's rare, when things work out for them.
Month Eight/An Epilogue, of sorts
Eventually, Paddy's opens back up full time, and The Gang reunites. Frank asks Charlie to move back in, and he tells Dee reluctantly that he's going back. He looks sort of sad about it, but also really excited to go back to Frank.
Dee isn't upset. No, really. Sure, she's a bit bummed out - she's gonna miss having him around all the time, but they do see each other at the bar every day, and he does come and stay on some weekends, which is cool. They don't always bang, which is cool too. Sometimes it's just enough for them to catch up and hang out away from the judgemental eyes of the gang - in retrospect, that's probably the part they enjoyed the most about quarantine: it did them good to be away from it all for a little while. Not that they don't like the gang, quite the opposite, but whenever he's back at Dee's there's this sense that they both want to hold on to the peace they (mostly) found when they lived together, a small fraction of normality in this fucking crazy life they all seem to lead. If Mac and Dennis can pair up and take sides, so can they. She's had a lot of time to think since Charlie was on her doorstep, like the beaten up puppy he is - she realised that she's a bit of an outcast, too. Always shunned, or ignored, or called a bird or manipulated, always having her dreams crushed. Sure, she deals out her fair share of it, they all do, but it's always her and Charlie pushed to the side first.
It's good to have a friend. Or lover. Or both.
And it also feels pretty good to finally work out some complicated feelings she's been having for a while.
"Popcorn!" Charlie yells from the kitchen one weekend, a bellowing impression of a stadium snack salesman. "Get ya popcorn! Dollar a box!"
He plops down on the couch beside Dee - he always takes the left side, her the right - and hands her the bowl of hot buttered popcorn with a hearty laugh.
"Fresh out the microwave, m'lady."
"Ooh, gourmet."
They smile at each other, and she takes a bite.
"Okay, we ready?" She asks, wiping her buttery hand on her jeans and grabbing the remote(perhaps some bad habits of Charlie's have rubbed off on her, but she doesn't mind).
"Sure thing."
Dee hits play, and the titles crawl across the screen.
"Aw, this has Dolph Lundgren in it?" Charlie says with a small nod of his head, tossing a piece of popcorn up to catch in his mouth unsuccessfully. "Awesome."
There's a brief pause while what Charlie has just said sinks in, and then Dee pauses the movie and points to the screen with wide eyes.
"What- you- you can read that?"
Charlie squints, and she can see his eyes scanning the words in front of them slowly.
"Huh, yeah." He says dismissively. "That says 'Starring Dolph Lundgren'. Awesome guy."
"What?" She all but yells. "Since when could you read?"
He frowns, clearly thinking hard about his response.
"Well, you know when we watched that dumb show on Netflix and you put all those stupid subtitles on 'cause of the neighbours banging upstairs? I think it happened then, because all of a sudden I could read the name 'Stacey' and it was like, what the fuck, man..." He trails off, and then grins. "Guess I can read a little, that's cool."
Dee stares at him, dumbfounded. And then she kisses him within an inch of his life.
They do see other people sometimes. It's rare, but it does happen. And somehow, it's no big deal - that's the whole point of being casual. I t's not like either of them can hold a stable relationship, anyway. Although, Dee thinks with a not-so-subtle flutter in her stomach, technically this whole thing has lasted longer than any relationship she's had, and sometimes she wouldn't mind if they did become a thing eventually.
But she's also more than happy to be whatever they are for now. It's not conventional, but they never really have been conventional, Dee realises, and maybe that's a good thing after all.