showbox [charlie]

november 2001

“Geminio,”murmured Robin, tightening his lips in modest approval as several pink gerberas spilled over the little club tabletop. He wasn’t good enough at transfiguration to create them from nothing. Walking into a crowded show with a single flower, though, was more manageable than bringing a handful, so he’d purchased one. Now that the crowd from the show was thinning he had set about constructing his bouquet. Probably substandard spellwork too, but they didn’t need to last; they were a five-second joke at best. Scooping up the stems, he followed the last stragglers out and veered off around back to the stage door.

He wasn’t sure what exactly possessed him to bring flowers. Irony, of course, imitating the moves of a proud mother or romantic admirer because he thought it was funny. But maybe he’d wanted just some small element of surprise. You couldn’t pop in on somebody like Charlie and expect him to be doing nothing, especially after a gig. So Robin had written to say he’d be there, and it had all been arranged. That, though, that wasn’t half as fun as spontaneity. Robin still had that juvenile desire to do things in the most charming way he could.

There was a thin hint of a worry in the back of his mind that Charlie might find the gesture more strange than amusing. They weren’t truly close enough friends that Robin would know what he would think about anything, and knowing his audience felt more critical as he got older. Too old, he thought regularly. But that was more as a joke to himself than as an actual guideline for self-improvement. As he waited against the alley wall he evened out his bouquet, fidgeting with it as he tried to talk himself out of nervousness. That feeling was inevitable when he planned anything. Another reason he preferred spontaneity was the absence of time for what-ifs.

As he and a couple others finally came out of the club, Charlie noticed Robin immediately and split off from his bandmates with cheerful goodbyes to cross the alley toward him. Apprehension forgotten, Robin waved. “Look who it is,” he said. “The big man himself.” He extended his bunch of flowers with a cheeky grin. “Hell of a show, mate.”

@Charlie Baker

Leaving the stage, Charlie was full of adrenaline. He was passionate about making music and he’d be relatively happy just writing songs and releasing them without touring, but it was such a rush to perform them to a crowd.

They were just doing a couple of small shows as a warm up for their tour early next year, fiddling around with the setlist and getting used to playing the new songs live. Judging by tonight, they’d hit the nail on the head. Normally, he and the boys would head out for a drink afterwards, but he’d already agreed to catch up with a mate, and Sam and Liam were both keen to get home to their respective girlfriends. Charlie could understand that feeling now. He’d previously give them shit; coax them into coming out with him, but now that he’d settled down himself it was perfectly understandable to want to go home to your girlfriend.

They exited the club together via the stage door, chatting loudly and laughing amongst themselves at in-jokes. Thankfully there was hardly anyone lingering tonight – it sounded ungrateful, but it wasn’t meant to be. He just didn’t want to cop too much flack from Robin. It had been an unadvertised gig, sort of like an open mic night, and it was a small venue, so it wasn’t like they’d have the usual throngs waiting outside anyway. He spotted his friend hanging back a little across the alley and gave him the bro-nod to acknowledge him. The frontman quickly signed a couple of tickets for the people waiting, and excused himself, shouting “Later!” to the other two.

Striding over to Robin, Charlie busied himself with getting a cigarette out of the packet that had been a squished into his pocket, bringing one up to his lips and lighting it expertly with his lighter. As he looked back up he was assaulted with the image of a six-foot bloke holding out a bouquet for him, Charlie paused, then grinned awkwardly with the cigarette still between his lips, “Maate,” he pulled it out deftly, holding out his other hand to clasp his friend in a familiar handshake-hug, “You shouldn’t have,” he laughed in earnest, taking the bouquet from the older man. Charlie wasn’t exactly a homophobe, but he was not fond of the idea of being gay himself. He was, however, reasonably comfortable around his close friends and he knew that they knew him well enough to know he was absolutely, positively straight. Despite how he might act sometimes. Was that what Robin was poking fun at?

“Thanks mate, how’ve you been? Drink?” He asked, flicking his cigarette and jamming it back between his lips for a drag, starting to walk them towards the nearest bar, “What’s new?”

It had been a long time since someone had asked him if he wanted a drink. Robin laughed in surprise, reflexively, stupidly. Everyone he went out in the evenings with these days was a longtime friend who knew everything about him, or Fflur. He realized how little he’d thought this through. They couldn’t very well go for coffee or settle in on his couch for a cup of tea. “That really is all there is to do this time of night, isn’t it?” he thought out loud with a vague little laugh. “But no, not for me—I’m not drinking anymore.” He didn’t want to say it so bluntly, in that way that he’d found made people apologetic and over-accommodating, but if he didn’t he have let himself get sucked into a situation he didn’t want to be in. Shaking his head softly, Robin chuckled. “Wow—if that’s what’s new, it really has been a while.”

He pondered what else was new, and found himself lacking for anything impressive. “It all sounds so boring, now,” he said. “Got a dog… Going steady—not with the dog, I mean, with a woman.” He laughed again. “That was the first gig I’ve been to since I don’t know when.”

“No need for you to carry those around all night,” he added, gesturing to the stupid little bunch of daisies. “You’ve got an image to maintain, I know—s’pose that’s what’s nice about radio.” In a mild, yet sudden fit of self-consciousness, Robin reached up to make sure his collar was folded correctly. “Actually been thinking about getting into stage acting lately,” he admitted. “But of course, that’s up to the casting directors more than me.”

"What?" Charlie asked, before his brain caught up to his mouth, "Oh, shit— sorry, mate, I forgot."

He knew Robin wasn't a drinker, he'd just slipped into autopilot. Everyone else he caught up with after a show, that's exactly what they intended. Charlie rifled through ideas quickly, wanting to backtrack and not make a big deal out of it for both of their sake's. In all honesty, Charlie was desperate for a drink, but he could wait -- it wasn't like he was an alcoholic. He'd had a drink before, during and after the show. He could wait until he got home for another. Easy. And he really didn't want to put Robin in a position that was uncomfortable. "No, look, we can head to one of those twenty-four hour places, or a chippy. You hungry?" He offered finally, gesturing with the bouquet, saying it in a way that suggested it wasn't up for discussion. "Here, this way." He turned slightly, taking them up a sidestreet. He wasn't sure how familiar Robin was with muggle Central London, but thanks to many a midnight stroll Charlie was getting to the point where you could blindfold him and plonk him somewhere and he'd be able to find his way home or to the nearest pub. Like a human carrier pigeon.

As they strode down the cobbled lane, he listened attentively to Robin's little life update. Nodding in the right places and breathing in his cigarette again, grinning back at Robin as he laughed. "Mate, really?" He raised an eyebrow at his companion, "That's boss." bumping his fist into Robin's upper arm gently in approval, "Come on, details, details?"

He laughed, "Yeah, well, you and me both mate." Charlie hadn't played to an audience in months. It felt like longer, but the cobwebs had blown off pretty quickly.

"S'alright, I'll erm... repurpose them later." He smirked, hinting at his own relationship status. "That is, if they're not gonna squirt water at me or summat?" He frowned a little at them, holding them at arms length as he said it. He wouldn't put it past Robin to have jinxed them as a second to the initial prank. "Image, pff." He scoffed comically. Robin was the second friend who'd suggested such a thing to him in the last month or so. Did he really give off that kind of vibe? Well, in all honesty, he had crafted his stage presence as a bit of a coping mechanism, and it had merged with his own personality to the point that he didn't really know who the real Charlie was anymore, but... he didn't micro-analyse every little thing he did. He just... did things.

The brunette took another draw of his cigarette, turning his head away from Robin to exhale the smoke out, the cold air causing his own frosty breath to mingle with it and create a larger misty plume. "Stage? Like, theatre?" He inquired, genuinely interested.

Robin waved aside Charlie’s awkwardness, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s easy to forget,” he said with a small laugh. “Must not be as boring as I feel like I am. Thanks, though—I could eat.” He’d noticed he ate a lot more than he used to. Something had to be between him and whatever he was doing, he figured. He’d had any number of meals forgotten as they were overtaken by conversation, but never got together just for a conversation without the guise of doing something else. Probably a silly social convention. But it was one he didn’t know how to operate without.

He followed Charlie down the street, presuming he knew where they were going. It was cold and the charms on his cloak that made it warmer had been starting to wear off since last winter. He stuffed his tingling hands into his pockets as Charlie pressed him for elaboration on Fflur. “Not that much to tell,” said Robin. “‘Least that’s anyone’s business.” He flashed Charlie a crooked grin, feeling a little smug, somehow. Having something to coyly refrain from bragging about was an excellent feeling. “Here’s hoping she never realizes she’s better than me,” he said breezily. And then he wished he hadn’t. He’d always felt bad to think it: Fflur wasn’t any worse than anyone he’d ever loved. Just to say that she wasn’t superior to him felt like disparaging her character. But it was what worked with them. He felt a kinship with Fflur that had never been a part of romance for him before, all the years he’d spent romanticizing women he didn’t understand and joking about how he didn’t deserve them. He was still trying to unlearn the patterns of it. He opened his mouth to correct himself, but the pause had been too long and he shut it again. Whatever.

Thankfully Charlie had moved on. “Oh, you might not,” said Robin. “They’ll probably be wilted within the hour; I’ve always been shite at magic. Though I’m sure we could find some more, if you’ve got someone expecting something special?” He grinned, nudging Charlie back. “Your mum, I assume?”

As they approached the neon-lit shop where Robin figured they were going, Charlie seemed surprised by the idea of him onstage. Robin laughed. “Oh, you know, sometimes there are roles for ugly people.” Looking down, he shrugged. “I’ve got friends who do it. I’ve got to do something, I mean, ever since the show ended I’ve just been lying around, yeah, can’t hurt to broaden my horizons a bit.” He laughed again, somewhat less mirthfully. “No luck yet,” he said, “but y’know, it’s all just being in the right place at the right time.” Then he quickly added, “Always was for me, anyway.” He didn’t want to make Charlie feel as if he and the band hadn’t worked hard to get where they were. But the truth was that Robin hadn’t. Every job he’d ever had he’d fallen ass-backwards into and he was beginning to worry that he couldn’t make it without opportunities being dropped in his lap.

“I’m proud of you lot,” he said, what probably sounded like out of the blue.

Charlie offered Robin a genuine, if slightly awkward, smile before turning his gaze away, looking up the street ahead of them. He didn’t want to get too far into what seemed like a bit of self-depreciation on Robin’s part. Charlie wasn’t good at bolstering other people up – he had enough on his own plate to worry about – so it was easier to just glance over his comment about boring. “There’s a place just up the road; burgers, kebabs, whatever—“ Charlie stopped dead, pressing a hand out to Robin’s arm and turning to look at him, “—you’re not a vegan as well are you?” His sharp features relaxed into a grin after a pause.

As they continued toward their destination, Charlie listened attentively to Robin. “Come off it, not even a name?” He raised an eyebrow at the other man. He figured Robin might be being quiet for the same reasons as Charlie, or, well, not the exact same reasons. But some overlap, anyway. Private life was private. Not to sound inflated, but Charlie was more easily recognised than Robin. The older man surely had some sort of following from his work on radio, but not in the same way as Charlie and the rest of the band. By keeping his relationship with Kate under wraps he was protecting her, and their shared life, from prying eyes and ears. There was already speculation in tabloids about whom he was seeing – every woman he was ever spotted with was apparently his next girlfriend. He could understand why Robin might have a bit of the same feeling Charlie had when it came to relationships: they were a secret, something to hold onto and keep sacred – they didn’t need to be anyone else’s business. But that didn’t mean Charlie wasn’t going to at least try and find out a little more – they were friends weren’t they? Surely they’d meet each other’s partners at some point, if they hadn’t already. “At least tell me if I know her?”

“Hm, really?” he asked with a slight air of disappointment, his dark eyes looking at the bouquet as he turned it over in his hand. Charlie grinned in response to Robin’s comment about his skills as a wizard, “You and I have that in common. We’ll stick to entertaining people, eh?” He paused and rolled his eyes, “Fuck off,” he swore at him in jest, “No, not my mum. But it’s alright, I don’t need flowers to impress a woman.” He smirked.

Ah, here he went with the self-loathing shit again. “Has your brother got a part?” Charlie grinned at him, deflecting the negativity from Robin. Charlie had been in school with Robin and his brother Oscar, and had been closer in age and shared a house with the younger Byrne-Davidson. They hadn’t got on.

Charlie hopped up to the stoop of the shop and pushed the door open, sliding inside and holding it for Robin to follow him in. It was bright in here compared to the dark outside, booths lining up along one wall and the counter on the other. Smaller tables scattered through the middle of the room. At this time of night there weren’t many people here, so Charlie slipped into a booth, placing his now-useless bouquet on the bench beside him. “Sounds cool, though,” he picked the conversation back up as he settled into his seat, plucking a couple of menus out of the holder and sliding one across the table to his companion. “Something’ll pop up mate. They’re probably all too busy worrying about the panto’s at the moment,” he remembered, not-so-fondly, being dragged to pantomimes every festive season as a child. He didn’t know a lot about theatre, but presumably it all happened in waves? Or ‘seasons’, weren’t they called? He really should make an effort to know a little more, especially now that his girlfriend’s sister was into the performing arts.

Charlie’s dark brown eyes scanned down the menu, his hands resting on the table, fingers linked together. He flicked his gaze up at Robin’s admission, his brow knitting together for a second. Slowly, he pulled his hands apart, fiddling with the laminated sheet in front of him. “Cheers, mate.” He replied awkwardly. Charlie had never been good with criticism, and he was just as poor at receiving praise from people he knew well – it was easy to be adored by the faceless many, harder to do so with someone sat only a couple of feet from you. He was always wary of seeming arrogant.

He opened his mouth to say something else but before he could get anything out a waitress appeared at their table, pad at the ready, eyeing the bouquet sceptically. Charlie flicked his eyes down at the menu one more time before looking up at the waitress politely, “Er, just the chicken burger, please. No tomato. Coke for the drink.”

“Oh, alright then.” Robin shook his head and gave Charlie a sort of grimacy grin. He shouldn’t have demurred. It made him sound like he had something amazing to say, rather than something meaningless or vaguely embarrassing, depending on how familiar Charlie was with nineties quidditch scandals. Anything he said afterward would be a cringeworthy anticlimax. “Her name’s Fflur,” he said. “We were at school together, she moved in to teach at Hogwarts last year.” He shrugged. “Boring, domestic stuff, really. I almost feel like a real grownup.” If he were pressed he could drag out a couple of sexy anecdotes, but mostly they just sat around and drank tea these days. It felt like hardly the stuff a young wild thing like Charlie would be interested in hearing about. He looked down at the bouquet as Charlie did. “Been impressing many women, then,” he asked, “ or one in particular?”

He laughed on instinct, knowing it was supposed to be a joke. Oscar was handsomer than the both of them but Robin didn’t think that was the punchline. He’d never actually asked asked what Charlie had against his brother. Nor had he asked his brother. Oscar was one of the few people Robin adored unreservedly, and Charlie was a friend. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was wrong with either one of them. “Oscar couldn’t act if his life depended on it,” he replied as they sat down. That was true, at least. “Thanks,” he added. “I figure this is what show business is supposed to be like. I’m finally getting the experience.”

There was something about the quaintness of this muggle sort of place that he liked, and he distracted himself with the picture menu instead of how dumb he’d just sounded. Charlie mumbled an acknowledgment and Robin nodded an even vaguer one. He was proud, obviously. Charlie was successful and Robin liked to see friends make it. But that wasn’t the sort of thing one mate said to another. He felt more like some kind of bumbling dad.

“Cheeseburger, thanks,” he told the waitress. “Coke as well.” Menu now gone, Robin scratched at his cuticles. “So you’re going to start touring again, that’s the deal, yeah?” he looked up and asked Charlie, somewhat forcefully. “You looking forward to it or no?”

 “Fflur?” Charlie repeated, rolling his lips and shaking his head in an expression that made it obvious he wasn’t familiar with the name. “She in your year?” He paused for a second, realising he should probably press for more information now that he’d bothered to ask her name. “What’s she like?”

Charlie ran a hand through his greased hair, leaning back in his seat. “Boring and domestic isn’t all bad.” Charlie offered, in what might perhaps be a surprise for Robin to hear coming from the younger mans lips. His own private life was hardly boring, but he knew what Robin meant: devoid of scandal, and not sleeping around without any sort of real connection. Just a happy, contented home life. “Er,” a grin spread across the brunette’s features, unsure how to answer that question at first. His ego wanted to say ‘of course’, because technically he impressed women all the time just by being who he was (a famous musician), but that wasn’t what Robin was asking and he didn’t want to come across quite that self-absorbed. “One in particular.” He flicked his gaze up to meet Robin’s, unable to hide the funny little smile playing on his lips.

The Slytherin just smirked at Robin’s comment about his brother. It was better that Oscar didn’t become a conversation point – Charlie had strong opinions about a lot of people and things, but he was usually smart enough to keep them to himself amongst friends when he knew they disagreed. 

“Yeah, eating shit and being awake when nobody else is,” the musician grinned, stretching back against the bench seat, “don’t get too jealous.” Charlie didn’t mind spending time by himself when he chose to, but he didn’t like forced isolation. He’d also grown accustomed to eating a lot better since Kate had moved in; before, he’d survived on takeaways and microwave meals mostly, now he got freshly made dinners almost every night – and his jeans were fitting that much more snugly for it.

Charlie watched Robin peruse the menu. He often forgot what things might be unfamiliar to his friends. Kate had been a real eye-opener to that issue, but even so she picked up on things so quickly that it was never a problem for long. Robin was clearly not a complete fish out of water, or he managed to hide any discomfort well. “Yeah, in spring. It won’t be too long, just a few months.” The touring schedule of a band in the Wizarding world was much less hectic than that of a muggle rock band – there was a much smaller audience, therefore less shows were needed. It was a blessing and a curse; Charlie craved that higher level of success, but he also appreciated being a relative unknown when he moved about in the muggle world.

Charlie wiped his hand over his jaw, thinking over Robin’s questions. “I am actually, gets boring sitting around all day doing nothing. Or, close to nothing.” He added the last as an afterthought. He always managed to occupy himself with something or someone, but that wasn’t the same as having a job to do. Admittedly, his job was a lot less structured than most, but it was still a job. At least of all the people Charlie knew outside of the immediate band, Robin understood the differences offered by a job in the creative world: there were long lulls of inactivity. After a moment the waitress returned with their drinks, setting them down and wandering back behind the counter.

Charlie repeated Fflur’s name, vaguely noncomprehending, and Robin felt sort of stupid. His girlfriend’s name would’t mean anything to Charlie, and even though he’d been asked he regretted treating the information like it mattered. But Charlie thankfully followed up with more questions. Robin started to answer quickly, clumsily, too much to say and too tongue-tied at once. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s...She’s funny, but not like me, in a subtler way. And clever. We talk a lot, I dunno. It’s nice.”

Robin watched Charlie as he admitted to enjoying a bit of domesticity, and he smiled wistfully. “Not bad, not at all,” he said. “But something makes me feel bad about wanting it, you know?” Maybe he had just lived too many years as a wild person, an unusual, exuberant person, built too much of his identity around it, that his life now didn’t feel like enough. Like some kind of a betrayal of himself, almost, no matter how much he knew it was better for him. He made a mental note of his phrasing to repeat it later in therapy. The idea of telling this to Charlie, though, felt somehow more empowering. He was beginning to realize how much he ached for people who understood.

“Well, your turn now,” said Robin, nudging Charlie’s foot under the table. “Tell me about your girl. Harder than it sounds, mate.” Remembering too late that he was sitting across from a songwriter, he shook his head quickly with a light chuckle. “But I’d imagine you’re more of a poet than I am,” he said. “Any of the songs tonight for her?” He couldn’t say he’d ever known Charlie as a romantic. But he figured Charlie could say the same about him. 

Robin hadn’t really been expecting either opinion from Charlie about their tour, but it felt obvious when his friend admitted he was looking forward to it. Whether he’d changed a little or not, Robin doubted Charlie Baker would ever be a homebody. “Good, then,” he said. “I get it, believe me.” There was no quicker way downhill than waking up purposeless. Uncomfortable with that thought and unsure what else to say about it, Robin pulled his soda over as it arrived and put the straw in his mouth. He was thoroughly grateful for something to fidget with.

“Well it’ll go well, if it’s anything like tonight,” he said several seconds later when a third of his cup was empty. “These teenagers think you’re the greatest.”

Charlie listened to Robin describe his girlfriend (was it appropriate to use the term ‘girl’ at their age? Well, Kate was probably still a girl he supposed, not that he liked to think of her that way. He didn’t really feel like a grown man, but he knew he was, or was supposed to be, at least) politely, if a little distractedly. “Not like you? So she’s actually funny then?” Charlie teased, grinning, softening the expression into a warm and knowing nod. He knew what ‘nice’ was now. He could empathise.

Charlie’s brow furrowed a little at Robin’s confession, feeling a bit of the same sentiment mirrored in himself. “Yeah, but—“ he stopped himself, second guessing the words he wanted to say, “—it’s not bad to want to, you know... settle down and all that.” The musician told himself that he was saying that for Robin’s benefit and not because it was how he’d been thinking lately. He certainly didn’t want to be with anyone other than Kate, so logically he should feel comfortable about the idea of making their situation permanent – but, there was no need to rush into anything.

“Ah,” Charlie leant back in his seat, smiling despite himself, and let out a light chuckle at Robin’s words. “She’s, erm...” he hesitated, aware how little the other man had said about his partner. “Yeah,” he admitted, “a few of them. Her name’s Kate.” He paused – not really for effect, just trying to formulate a sentence now that he was a little flustered. “She’s American.” He said, as if that was a defining trait. “She’s the, um, manager and publicist.” In his awkwardness Charlie failed to realise he’d hardly described her at all – just her nationality and her job title. In his head he could wax lyrical about the petite brunette, but getting those words out of his mouth (except in the form of a song) was a different story.

The Slytherin nodded in muted agreement with his friend, not wanting to linger on the word ‘teenager’ when he was technically dating one and Robin had potentially meant it as a negative thing. Charlie pulled his own drink closer and discarded the straw onto the table before lifting the glass to his lips and taking a gulp. As he did so, he muddled over a train of thought in his head: had Robin said Fflur, or Fleur? Charlie had met women from France with the latter spelling, but he knew one decidedly wild Welsh woman with the former. And, if she had been in Robin’s year—

“Wait a sec,” Charlie interrupted the silence, gesturing with his hand as if he was cutting Robin off mid-sentence, “Not Fflur Blevins? The Quidditch player?” His expression was halfway between shock and a grin. If Robin was seeing the Fflur that Charlie knew, well – god help him. But surely not. If Robin was teetotal, there was no way he could be going out with that Fflur.

“Fuck off,” mumbled Robin, lightly under his breath with a grin. “I just mean that she’s…cool.” Cool in the same way that Charlie was, he supposed. Robin had been rebellious, but he’d never been a leather-wearing figure of aloof assuredness. There was a sophistication in that that drew him, in the way that he’d always been drawn to people who seemed more together than he was. Even with all they had in common, he couldn’t stop seeing Fflur—or Charlie—that way.

“Thanks,” Robin said, unsure what else to say in reply. He was thankful to hear it, of course, but it felt sort of weird to thank Charlie for it. They had rarely talked like this. Sobriety made everything so much more confusing, the awkwardness so much more glaring. “I figure it’s easier than it is for you,” he said, “seeing as I’m not touring and shite. Right now, anyway.” The entertainment scene was broadly international and he hadn’t ruled out working across the pond, but Robin would prefer to stay in the UK if he could. Settle down, if that was the word. He didn’t like the thought of settling down, but he was realizing he also didn’t like to be away from home. The jittery discomfort with his boring routine hadn’t been bothering him as much lately.

He watched Charlie search for his words and rolled his straw between his fingers, amused. “Cute,” he said. “Lucky girl, really. Wish somebody famous’d write songs about me.” The thought of the sort of lyrics he might inspire made him laugh to himself. “Robin…” he sang lightly, glancing back at the kitchen. “Nose like a goblin…”

Charlie then asked what seemed to be a very important question. Robin snapped his head back. “Yeah, that’s her,” he replied. He wasn’t sure what the look on Charlie’s face was. Where he might have known the name from was obvious, but the sentiment was unclear. Robin grinned back despite his apprehension. Best not to make assumptions. “Were you a fan, or something?”

Charlie grinned back at his friend, “’Cool’. Right.” He nodded.

The musician could feel the slight awkwardness settle between them as neither man seemed to really want to openly admit to being head over heels for their respective partners. Charlie was unfamiliar with talking to anyone in this way, or anyone other than Kate – and even then he was hesitant to really speak his mind. Sam was probably his closest friend aside from his girlfriend, and Charlie was pretty certain he hadn’t even told him how he really felt about his future. “Well, yeah I guess.” He agreed half-heartedly, glad that Robin had moved the conversation along, if only slightly. “It’s more just... I can tell she doesn’t really love it here, but I don’t... really like it there either.” He explained, assuming Robin would understand the references to England (or rather, London in particular) and America.

Charlie groaned and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly when Robin used the word ‘cute’, a funny little grin playing on his lips despite himself. The brunette laughed openly, “Sounds like a hit, mate. Might plagiarise that for the next album.”

The calmness with which Robin affirmed the identity of his girlfriend suggested that he didn’t know Fflur the way Charlie knew her. Or, he assumed so. Maybe he did and loved her anyway – wouldn’t they make quite the pair? Charlie and Kate, Fflur and Robin. The musician opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the arrival of their meals. He clammed his lips shut as the waitress set their plates down, waiting until she’d retreated before he leaned forward in his seat, his eyebrows raised, “You’re fucking... serious?”

“No, I’m not into Quidditch.” Charlie admitted, his demeanour having suddenly gone quite solemn. He wasn’t sure how best to explain his ‘friendship’ with Fflur Blevins, if one could call it that. He grabbed the ketchup from the condiment basket and squeezed some onto his plate, avoiding Robin’s gaze while he thought about what he could say without offending the man in front of him.  He set the bottle down and flicked his gaze up to meet Robin’s. “We... partied a bit.” He said finally, as if that was a sufficient explanation. Surely if Robin knew Fflur at all he’d know the kind of person she was? And he definitely knew enough about Charlie’s habits.

“We never, you know,” he added as an afterthought, keen to make that clear given his reputation. Charlie had only ever seen Fflur as one of the guys – someone to have a good time with. In all honestly, it was too much like looking in a mirror for him to really find her attractive. They shared a lot of negative qualities and while he appreciated them when they were useful, it was a volatile cocktail of traits for two people to share. He stared at Robin for a moment, without really seeing him, as he tried to picture these two people he knew as a couple, and furthermore, Fflur in a position of responsibility. "So she... she's a professor now?" Distractedly, he grabbed a chip and started eating.

At Charlie’s blunt incredulity, Robin burst into laughter.

“No, yeah, I get it,” he said, lightly shaking his head. “She is…different, sort of.” As his amusement subsided, a vague unease began to replace it and Robin picked up his burger just to do something. He nodded toward his soda. “It was, y’know, a coincidence. She’d just gotten a job teaching kids when I ran into her, I didn’t…” Ruin her were the words that he’d thought, and he’d been lucky enough to stop them before they came off his tongue. He certainly didn’t think Fflur had been ruined. Though he also didn’t really have the knowledge necessary to judge. He hadn’t known her in the intervening years when Charlie apparently had, and most of what he knew of her then was built on assumption. From the way Charlie was speaking, it almost seemed like he thought—or maybe not thought in so many words, felt, perhaps—that whoever his Fflur must be had been stripped of everything that made her Fflur. “You know,” he said again, shrugging weakly. Robin wondered whether Charlie thought he was ruining himself. He knew some people thought so. He thought so himself, sometimes.

Charlie added a clarification, and Robin blinked. He had just assumed that was what Charlie had been trying to explain around. “I mean,” he said. “It wouldn’t matter, really.”  They didn’t talk much about people in their pasts, he and Fflur. He’d already lost his virginity to her sister and that was about the most awkward thing either of them could have done. Robin took a bite, taking his time to chew. It felt like he should change the subject. This was probably a very weird conversation. But some excited part of him couldn’t keep from talking about himself if given the opportunity. There weren’t often many things he’d like to share.

“Well, flying,” he said. “They haven’t got her up there teaching History of Magic or whatever, I mean, she knows what she’s doing.” Robin was unable to suppress a small grin. He was proud. “And she’s good at it. Well—I think. I haven’t actually seen her teach or anything, but she hasn’t been fired yet, so...” He shrugged. “She was my captain back in school, so I know she’s got it in her, at least.”

Charlie squinted a little at Robin, his brow furrowing, “You didn’t...?” he trailed off, leaving the question hanging. He didn’t want to press Robin, but his curiosity was peaked. He figured the older man would just shrug it off if he wasn’t keen to elaborate, but Charlie also knew that once he got the Gryffindor talking on a subject he’d keep going.

Charlie just looked at Robin with an expression of mild disbelief, “Trust me, it would matter.” He lifted the top bun off his burger to check the contents and frowned upon finding a fat slice of tomato. He picked it off with a grimace, reassembled his bun and lifted it to his mouth – pausing just short of taking a bite. “It’d be weird. Like if your sister and I...” He grinned slowly, then started eating his burger as he thought of another friend with whom he had done just that, but was thus far flying under the radar – and planned for it to stay that way.

He chewed for a moment, then explained further, “We just drank. A lot. Too much, probably.” He hadn’t wanted to bring up the topic of alcohol if Robin was obviously trying hard not to partake, but he figured that was better than admitting to having shagged his friend’s girlfriend. Even if it was before they’d gotten together. Charlie was glad that he’d been Kate’s first. He didn’t have to be concerned about being compared with anyone, not like in previous relationships where there’d always been that self-doubt.

“Mm, stick to what you know.“ he agreed. A funny little grin played on his lips as he kept eating his burger, listening to Robin talk about Fflur. It was amusing on two levels: Robin talking about any woman he was interested in had always been a little humorous to Charlie (namely because the musician was not the type to have a steady girlfriend himself, up until recently, so feelings weren’t a subject he really touched on), and now there was the added factor of the woman in question being someone Charlie actually knew. He was still boggling at the idea of these two people together, though really he knew the same might be said of him and Kate. The Slytherin laughed lightly at the mention of Fflur not having been fired yet. “Well, that’s a good sign.” He finished off his burger with a final bite, not having realised how hungry he was until he’d started eating, then took a large gulp of his coke. “I forgot you played Quidditch in school. So, if she was your Captain...” He smirked, grabbing a chip and dipping it in ketchup, "Does she wear the pants?"

He’d hoped Charlie would know what he was getting at. That wasn’t fair, of course: all his life Robin had been unclear at best and strange at worst. But now he was frustrated by it anyway, enough that Charlie’s expectant question made him grimace before he could stop himself. Maybe lately he’d just gotten too used to feeling understood. “I mean,” he tried again, tied now to this one awkward thought that he’d wanted to skate past, “It wasn’t my idea. That she quit drinking, I mean.” He’d thought that had come up in the conversation, but was suddenly unsure whether it had just been in his head. “We just sort of—happened to be there together.”

He didn’t care to dwell on how much of their relationship might be owed solely to this coincidence.

Robin watched Charlie pick apart his food and listened vaguely to his insistence on possessiveness. And then Charlie answered the question Robin hadn’t actually asked. “Ah,” he said, smiling a little. “Fun.” It had to have been fairly recently, he thought; Charlie was young. Robin’s own life had been different for years now, and it was a little strange to think that for Fflur it had only been months. “I do sort of wish I’d been around to see that,” he said. “It’s like…I know what her life’s been like, but I don’t know. ‘Course, I don’t know why I care if I don’t know.” He took another bite then, and another before he’d fully swallowed. Presumably Charlie didn’t fancy being his relationship counselor. He didn’t really fancy it being Charlie either. The best that could be said was that at least they weren’t drinking, and he had more of a sense of when to stop.

Charlie made an attempt to transition into more salacious discussion, and it took a lot of self-control for Robin to keep from laughing. “Well, ideally, neither of us wears pants,” he said with deadpan sincerity. “Though one could say she’s more of a leader than I am.” Joke over, he allowed himself half a grin. “It’s much easier than being on her team, though, I can tell you that.”

“We should all get together,” he said emphatically, and then immediately thought better of it. “Or, well,” he added in a rush, “unless you don’t want to, y’know, I don’t know what we’d even do.” He shrugged and pushed his straw around his glass. “It’s just that we’re sitting here talking about other people.” Or he was, at least. “Felt like the right thing to say.”