the dark end of the street [charlie]

“No, I—” Charlie chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought. “I haven’t seen her yet. She just packed a bag and went without giving me a chance to-- She… sent one of her friends around to get more of her things.” And even then I couldn’t behave myself, he thought with a frown. Still, he appreciated the sentiment from the woman sat across from him. Charlie rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm. “I’ll see her next week, probably.” He failed to mention that it would be on Valentine’s Day, at one of their pre-tour warmup shows – the last one Kate was officially working for the band. The last time he might see her. Perhaps Fflur was right, he should try to talk to her.

Charlie belatedly looked up, somewhat bemused by the blonde’s sudden movement until his brain kicked into gear. Charlie didn't want to move. He wanted to stay here and continue drinking -- but he also wanted to continue to be with Fflur, now that he remembered how much he enjoyed her company. He got to his feet at her insistence, put his jacket back on with a quiet grizzle and followed her out, looking longingly back at the bar and the many possibilities it held. Good thing the one next to him was more tempting.

He copied Fflur in pulling out his own packet and lighting a cigarette between his lips, following her half a step behind despite being the local boy. He wasn’t sure if she knew where they were going, or if she was just walking, the same way he did when he needed to get away from whatever bad decision he was on the verge of making. Charlie visibly cringed as it hit him. God, he was such an idiot for suggesting a place that sold alcohol. He had known, thanks to Robin, that Fflur didn’t drink anymore, but he just hadn’t cared. Too busy thinking about himself, again. Rather than make a deal about it, he dropped it -- he'd figure out how to apologise later.

Charlie listened distractedly, still busy in his own head. Her question managed to pique his interest enough to draw him back, however. Charlie's dark eyes slowly dragged up to look at his companions face, nodding, “Yeah,” he squinted a little, “I remember,” Charlie vaguely knew of Fflur’s sister. Nerys had been closer in age to him at school but they hadn’t been friends. He knew her almost purely through titbits offered by Fflur, which painted the younger Blevins sister as someone Charlie would thoroughly dislike spending time with. He wondered idly if this had all been Fflur trying to keep him away from her sister, for whatever reason, or if she genuinely disliked her sibling that much. Kate and Fran couldn’t be further from each other in the way they acted, but they still loved each other. Charlie frowned at himself for thinking about Kate again. He had to stop doing that.

“What?” Charlie blinked. “Robin…” The musician took a moment to piece together exactly what Fflur was telling him – the delay partly caused by the alcohol clouding his thoughts, and partly down to shock. Maybe a little of something else, too. He avoided looking at her for a second; suddenly feeling like he'd been kicked while he was down, though he didn't think that had been her intention.

“What a dog.” Charlie grinned half-heartedly once he’d recovered, momentarily distracted from his original woe by a new kind. He didn't want to piss on their reunion though, so he figured being crass would suffice for humour: “Even I don’t think I’d… intentionally bang sisters," he mused, knowing full well that he’d likely done it unintentionally at least once or twice, maybe thrice. “I can’t decide if the poor taste runs in your family or his.” He smirked weakly.

“So... does she know or...?”

Fflur was sure she had done enough talking about Nerys in bars past to paint a picture that wasn’t completely accurate, but she was sure that she had covered the major plot points of their lives. And it wasn’t like she had made anything up; she just might have left out any of Nerys’s redeeming qualities. Minor details.

“Robin,” Fflur confirmed with a nod, looking up through the smoke she had just exhaled. She had yet to mention the whole shebang to anyone, filling them in on the situation from start to wherever they were now. It sounded so juvenile. She managed a half-smile, feeling all high-school all over again, talking about liking boys. But she rolled her eyes, regaining her well-practiced cool composure when Charlie spoke again.  “Yeah, he’s so suave, I just couldn’t resist.” She shrugged, not matching his grin.

“Oh,” she slowed to a stop, turning to take a proper look at Charlie as he compared himself to her boyfriend.. “Robin and I haven’t, you know. Bang.” She nodded knowingly, though it was hard to keep a straight face about something so completely ridiculous; Charlie had to know her well enough to spot the joke. She smirked, bringing her cigarette back to her lips as she started walking again. “My family. Certainly mine.” She wasn’t about to get into the details of how it had happened, how she had embarrassed herself by having feelings, then embarrassed herself more by actually telling him about them.

Fflur grimaced as things turned back to her sister. “Does she know?” This was the only thing she didn’t like about her new and tentative relationship with Nerys: having to worry about her sister’s feelings. “No.” She paused before adding: “I don’t know.” She shrugged, taking a drag from her cigarette. “If she does know, she hasn’t told me about it, and,” she let out a derisive laugh, “That’s not like her.” Fflur was still under the impression that it wasn’t a big deal; it had been fourteen years. Nerys had been a teenager. Really, she ought to be happy for Fflur. The big deal should have been that Fflur was relatively happy, considering everything else that had happened.

She shrugged again, making a random left turn at the street corner. “I dunno.” She pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with the end of the dying one. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, mostly to convince herself, but the smallest part to give Charlie something besides the American to think about.

Charlie took a deep drag of his own cigarette, holding the smoke in for a moment before releasing it out in a concentrated stream. “I bet,” he grinned, a little more in earnest now that he was occupied with someone else’s drama. Drama that he really didn't want or need to get involved in. He was thoroughly amused by the notion of Robin being a ladies man. That seemed harsh, but it wasn’t intended that way -- or was it?

Charlie would be the first to admit that of the two of them, Robin was likely the better boyfriend material. It was just that he was so openly self-depreciating, it seemed hard to imagine him having any sort of confidence around women. Especially women like Fflur. But maybe that was what had drawn Fflur to him; did she like that in a man? He’d never really picked Fflur as the bossy type, but then again they’d usually had the same ideas and those had always revolved around doing stupid shit together, so maybe she’d just never had much of a reason to commandeer their friendship. But she was a little obstinate, he supposed, now that he thought about it.

He stopped half a step after Fflur did, then shot her a quizzical look. “You haven’t?” He both frowned and grinned in disbelief. “What are you, twelve?” He laughed derisively. He had the feeling that she was joking, but she was sober now so who really knew? Either way, he supposed he shouldn’t expect everyone to be as loose with their morals as he, especially given that that was why he was newly-single. But he’d known Fflur when she had been looser. After all, how else had they ended up naked in bed together? He shook his head, almost as if to clear his mind of that memory. They hadn’t, ‘you know’d’ either, he supposed. Officially, anyway. A part of him wanted to bring that up, but that would inevitably lead to him admitting he did remember and -- furthermore -- that he was still thinking about it three years later.

Charlie started moving again as Fflur did, trying to hide his smirk behind his hand as he lifted his cigarette back up for another inhale. “Bit rough on Robin. He’s not that bad.” He let the grin win through. “Obviously good enough to bag the both of you.” He shoved his free hand in his pocket, keeping a wary eye on Fflur in case she decided to thump him one. “Almost won me over too when he brought me those flowers that night,” Charlie let out a puff of smoke as he pulled a mock, dramatic expression of bashfulness, devolving into a short giggle before the conversation turned a little more serious.

“Mm.” Charlie didn’t really know how to respond. He was an only child, he didn’t have the cons (or pros) of siblings. He’d barely been able to see his cousins either, so the only familial-type bonds he really had were with people he chose to care about. People like Fflur. He saw her like he imagined he might see a sister; equal parts best friend and annoying. Perhaps that was why when she had looked disappointed in him earlier it had hurt more. There was one major difference between them acting like siblings and actually being related though. He shrugged, “Well, she’ll get over it. If she doesn’t, fuck her. It’s not your problem.”

He offered her another weak smile, wanting to be glad for Fflur, and Robin, even if his own life felt like it was in tatters and he was feeling a little more green-eyed than he had been when Robin had brought this very same relationship up a few months ago. He'd been distracted then, he supposed, by his own lovelife. Desperate to keep his mind on anything other than Kate, he took a few steps ahead and turned to face her, walking backwards. “I feel like we should celebrate. My shout, what do you wanna do?” He grinned.

Fflur laughed. “Come off it.” She waved him off with the hand holding her cigarette. “I’m almost offended that Robin didn’t regale you tales of my sexual prowess.” She shrugged as if she had actually thought that a possibility; Charlie might have been a horrible lay but Fflur certainly wasn’t. “I’m sober, not dead.” She raised her eyebrows in that knowing way, the one that hinted at her knowing more than she was letting on. She knew enough, figured he knew enough; she was perfectly content continuing on not admitting to anything -- for decency’s sake.

“He’s good enough,” Fflur agreed with a laugh, deciding to focus on disparaging her own relationship rather than think about the one Robin had shared with her sister. “He does have a certain sort of charm,” she continued, matching Charlie’s bashful look. “In a certain light,” she added with a nod and another smile, silently congratulating herself for distracting him so thoroughly.

Charlie got straight to the point: fuck Nerys. Of course, there were caveats, like doing that only if she didn’t approve of her being with Robin, or even being understanding about it if not downright on board with it. But Fflur didn’t choose to think about the caveats. She puffed on her new cigarette, not sure how to agree with him without coming off as a total ass. She knew she’d come around to worrying about it all in no time, but in a continued effort to keep Charlie occupied, Fflur shrugged it all off. “It is not my problem.” She returned his look with a smile of her own and a bonus shrug. She was far too sober to be dealing with her own feelings.

They seemed to be on the same page. “Are we celebrating the fact that now one of us can remember what goes on?” Fflur smirked behind her hand for a brief second before dropping the hand and revealing the smirk in full. “How about,” she continued anyway, not waiting for a recognition or response. She twirled on the spot, hoping for a spark of inspiration from the surroundings. Three-quarters of the way through her turn, she found it. “That, definitely that.” Fflur pointed with her free hand, nearly directly behind Charlie.

A feebly blinking neon sign about a block away halfheartedly advertised for mini golf. It fit the bill of what they usually wanted in an activity: competition, no rules about smoking, alcohol. And, if Fflur was lucky, it might even be pirate themed. “C’mon.” Fflur grabbed one of Charlie’s shoulders and spun him round. She supposed the glow-in-the-dark features of the outer space theme would be more exciting if it were truly dark out, but maybe that was also why it wasn’t too crowded, so she wasn’t going to argue. “Hope you aren’t intimidated, mini golfing with a former professional athlete and all that.” Fflur cracked her knuckles deliberately before taking a very, very poor shot at the first rocket ship obstacle.

Charlie grinned at her cheekily, “Yours or his?” He refrained from adding that he could only testify to her lack of. Maybe she'd been having an off night -- he could give her the benefit of the doubt, maybe.

He’d missed this. Missed Fflur. She was uncomplicated – to him, at least. Before, he could tell her anything and she’d still put up with him. Give him shit, sure, but he needed that. Someone to keep him in line in a way that didn’t make him feel like a naughty schoolboy. Or, more often than not, would encourage him to keep crossing the line. He supposed those days might be over now but he really hoped not. “Poor you.” He replied with a funny little smile, somewhere between sincerity and jest.

“Ahh, I think you’ve gone gooey in the middle, Blevins.” Charlie laughed, before softening his features into a genuine smile, “You could do a lot bloody worse.” Candidate number one for that title was walking beside her right now. Every so often Charlie had wondered why it was he and Fflur hadn’t ever become romantically involved, but each time his mind had wandered down that narrow, windy little path he’d abruptly snapped out of whatever it was that had gotten into him. Fflur was like a sister to him, or at least a very close cousin. He couldn’t—they hadn’t ever been involved in that way (or he’d like to continue to ignore that they had, at least), and he’d never felt a strong enough urge to change that, to risk everything. And look where that had gotten them, in the end; radio silence for three years because he'd freaked out after they'd finally done it.

But in today’s context, at least, Fflur was probably the one thanking her lucky stars that they'd never been a thing. They would have destroyed each other.

Charlie took another drag of his cigarette, tapping it to shake off the loose ash as he lowered it back to his side. Fflur seemed to have talked enough about her sister for now, and Charlie was more than happy to leave it at ‘fuck Nerys’ and be done with it. He wanted to avoid negative topics if he could. He could feel the fresh air in his lungs (after having exhaled the smoke) speeding up his return to sobriety and if he was going to not devolve into a pool of self-pity he needed to be preoccupied in a positive way.

He smirked, “Yeah, something like that.” God, did they need one of them to be able to remember, and after that night Charlie was quite happy for it to not be him, moving forward. He watched Fflur spin, finishing off his cigarette with a final, long drag and flicking it into the gutter. “Hm?” He looked up and around, spotting the sign for mini golf. “Really?” He asked, but even before she’d grabbed his shoulder and ushered him forward he’d decided it was a great idea. It wasn’t drinking, but with that off the agenda for the foreseeable future (around Fflur, anyway), it seemed the perfect substitute. Not so much need for deep and meaningfuls when you were doing something.

The clerk had given the pair of them an odd look, followed by a suspicious sniff in Charlie’s direction as the musician handed over payment. Charlie supposed they did look like they might be delinquents of some sort, and they had been in the past. Surely they were a bit old to still be being tarred with that brush? They were in Sheffield, though.

Out on the green (did one call it a ‘green’ in mini golf?), Charlie did the typical boy thing of trying to dig his putter into the grass. He let out a short, sharp burst of laughter. “Emphasis on the ‘former’ though, right?” He came up beside her and sneered as they watched her ball veer off to the side, “That was terrible. Move over, let me show you how it’s done,” he bumped his hip against hers forcefully to nudge her out of the way, placing his ball on the starting spot and rolling his shoulders. With a firm tap, his ball rocketed along the course before smacking right into the obstacle with a thunk! and rolling back towards them.

“All the emphasis on the ‘former’,” she agreed, tilting her head to watch her red golf ball slow to a stop, just in the cranny of an expanse of moon rocks. That… wasn’t great.To be fair, she was pretty certain that the last time she had played mini golf, both she and her sister had been living in Cardiff, still getting along. Relatively. If anyone asked, that would be her excuse, anyway. She hadn’t any time to offer the excuse, though; Charlie was shoving her away before she had the chance. She not so politely invited him to, “Fuck off,” but her expletive was surrounded by laughs.

Fflur took a step back, allowing him plenty of space for his expert golfing skills. She lit a cigarette, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ signs they had passed on their way in, but they were outside which suggested to her that those signs were more of a suggestion, anyway. Leaning on her club with her free hand, she watched as he did his thing, everything just right to make everything completely wrong. She snorted as the ball came to a halting stop at Charlie’s feet. “Tidy. Wherever did you get your marvelous skills?”

She stepped back over to him, offering her cigarette for him to take so she could give her next swing all the effort that it deserved. Fflur lined herself up for the impossible shot before looking back at Charlie and pointing over his shoulder. “What’s that?” She didn’t wait to see if he looked behind him or not, nudging the ball out with her foot before giving a careless swing at it. It at least went toward the hole, even if it didn’t do much else exciting.

“Maybe the ‘former’ shouldn’t apply anymore,” Fflur mused with a shrug, doing a half-assed job at making him feel bad about himself. She stepped out of the way, her club over her shoulder, offering a helpful, “At least you can’t do any worse this time.” Taking her cigarette back, she offered him a smirk as she brought it to her lips.

Charlie watched as his ball tapped up gently against his boot. He blinked, then recovered into a lazy grin. “We all have off days, Blevins – you know that.” He said cheekily, “Some even have off years.” He bit his tongue between his teeth and smirked at her, dodging out of her way in case she decided to physically retaliate.

Charlie wasn't sure if he was ‘allowed' to take the piss out of her Quidditch career as such, but she knew he never really meant any of it. Besides, he couldn't give a toss about the sport. Charlie had never been the athletic type, and Fflur had made a comment about that once or twice and he'd graciously agreed. The Northerner watched the odd football match here and there, but he'd given up on any aspirations of playing for Sheffield Wednesday the minute he'd stepped foot in Hogwarts. It seemed the only sport witches and wizards cared about was on brooms, and Charlie wasn't big on heights.

The musician took his companion's cigarette and sneakily had a drag while he watched her line up. Gullible enough, he quickly turned to see what was so interesting; Charlie's dark eyes searched but found nothing worth pointing out behind them. “What?” he asked, confused, as he turned back to the sound of her ball clunking down the course. “Ah, right.” He said knowingly, electing not to outright call her a cheat until he could witness her in the act. Well, if that was how she wanted to play, so be it. Two could play at that game.

As her ball slowed to a halt Charlie's gaze drifted from the back of Fflur’s head down to her toes, watching how she held herself. Staring a little longer at her backside than was probably acceptable as a friend, but if Fflur wasn't used to him by now she never would be -- nevermind that they were friends that had only just rekindled their relationship. It was a shame she was shacked up right now, and sober. He could have done with a good night out to keep his mind off of other things. Past experience told him that if he wound up in bed with Fflur at the end of the night he wasn't sleeping with her (or, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, anyway), but he doubted Robin would believe that and Charlie wasn’t usually the type to meddle in other people’s relationships. Usually. Perhaps he'd just have to head for a bar after this, find some willing participant he could sleep with without causing any trouble.

“Maybe,” he admitted honestly, “but I wouldn't get ahead of yourself, Captain.”

“Fuck off,” he let out a breathy chuckle, holding her cigarette out for her to take as he got into position, barely inches from where he'd been the first time thanks to his amazing golf skills. Charlie rolled his shoulders and wiggled his hips comically before taking his second shot. This time it careered down the course, bonking off the moon rocks and through the hole to the next section – not what he’d expected, but he’d take it. With an impossibly smug grin, Charlie turned back to Fflur. “Obviously just needed a warm up swing. What’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, please do let me know when your off years are over,” Fflur replied with a sweet smile. She wasn’t above punching him again; she fondly remembered that part of that night. She had been constantly surrounded by creative types, especially so when she was in Paris, but Charlie had always seemed a little less sensitive about his work than other people. Or, at least, he took it when she gave him shit, just giving it right back. Or maybe he was just sensitive about other things. Or all the above.

Somehow, it was easier not to care about how she did at mini-golf when she wasn’t drinking. Alcohol was supposed to help calm nerves, lower inhibitions, but it had always had the added benefit of making her even more competitive than usual, she supposed. She was still going to be plenty upset if she lost to Charlie, of course, but at least she wouldn’t hold it against herself quite as much. Probably.

“Maybe,” she repeated, noting the smudge of lipstick on Charlie’s lips that hadn’t been there before she had handed him her cigarette -- the same color of lipstick on the end -- and she smirked, not pointing it out, not unlike any other time she hadn’t botherd to alert him to the same issue. She shrugged off his admonishment, laughing as he squared up his own shot. “Such good form.” Her gaze drifted over him, yet she actually was mostly interested in the swing, which  seemed to have worked just a little bit, with Charlie making a lot more progress than she had done. Wasn’t the first hole on the course supposed to be the easiest? Tailored to children? Maybe her ‘not competitive without alcohol’ idea had been a lie all along.

What was her excuse? “I don’t really think I need one--” only because she couldn’t come up with one. Still, it was hard not to return Charlie’s grin, especially after how their visit had started out, bordering on depressing. She didn’t trade off her cigarette again, instead holding it steady between her lips as she anchored herself for another swing. Her dad had taught her how to hold things properly on one particularly memorable family mini-golf outing, but of course her sister had the innate golfing ability that Fflur didn’t. Fflur was more the type to chuck the ball down the course, her aim with her arm far better.

She tapped the ball forward and it inched closer to where it needed to go, which was at least out of the rockiest part. She took another step forward and hit it again, throwing all care for proper golfing etiquette out the window. Finally, it followed after Charlie’s, and Fflur sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Par two. My ass.”

“Ta very much.” He grinned, giving his skinny-jean clad bum an extra wiggle for her benefit.

“Right." As Fflur’s ball inched further down the course Charlie’s smirk widened, breaking into a full grin when she seemingly gave up on the ‘take a turn’ rule for the time being. Her ass indeed. His eyes slipped down to her backside, again. “Christ, what sort of posture is that?” He had been watching, leaning on his club slightly, deciding if he should pull out his own pack of fags now that she’d seemingly gotten protective of hers; distracted from his own train of thought by her.

The musician walked around the obstacle and located his ball – quickly spotting it sitting and waiting perfectly in line with the first hole. He turned back to look at her with another little grin, “Odds?” Charlie knew he shouldn’t jinx himself, especially when he could still feel the effects of the morning’s alcohol, but it was too easy to try and wind up Fflur when he was performing better athletically -- it wasn't a common predicament. He got into place quickly and tapped his ball along, watching it sink into the hole with a satisfying plonk.

Charlie straightened up and rested his club against a rocketship before walking back towards Fflur as she got ready to take her next shot. “Woah, woah—” he waved his hand at her, “Stop. You’ll never hit it straight if you carry on like that. I thought you were a Beater?” He laughed, genuinely unaware that he was wrong. He came up to stand behind her; Charlie wrapped his arms around the Fflur and placed his hands over hers on the club. It was only at this point he realised how close they were. How this was the closest he’d been to anyone in several days. He’d never been a super touchy-feely person before Kate, aside from the much more friendly touching with Fflur, but he’d spent the better part of a year in almost constant physical contact with his now ex-girlfriend. To suddenly have that taken away… It wasn’t the same just having sex with a stranger. He just… missed her.

Charlie moved Fflur’s grip slightly further apart on the club, his larger hands still over the top of hers, as he slyly (or so he thought) scooted in closer. He curled his head in next to the Welsh woman’s, “Feet shoulder-width apart,” he said quietly in her ear, using this as an excuse to press up behind her. “Line your shoulders up with where you want the ball to go," he murmured, a wave of drunkenness washed over him and Charlie inhaled her slowly, cuddling into Fflur’s back for a second before helping her take a swing with his eyes half-closed.

“Even,” Fflur replied with a roll of her eyes as he asked her for odds. She leaned on her club with one hand and smoked with the other, much as she had done every other time Charlie had taken a turn. Blowing air through pursed lips as he continued being more successful than her -- and she rolled her eyes again for good measure -- Fflur shrugged. “Easy.”

She stowed her cigarette between her lips and prepared to disappoint herself with another failed shot -- though she wasn’t actually putting any effort into improving -- and was just about to take another shot when Charlie spoke up. Her head snapped up with a “Woah?” in response to a few of his own. She grinned as she relaxed, taking the opportunity to get her fingers on her cigarette again. He questioned her stance and she huffed, about to correct him and his insult that she was a Chaser and not a Beater, but laughing with him took precedence. He was rubbish with quidditch knowledge, anyway -- it was one of the reasons she liked him in the first place.

Fflur stopped laughing, could feel the mood shift almost as palpably as she felt Charlie’s presence behind her. It wasn’t necessarily unusual for them to be close; they were both physical people, after all. But it had always been limited to kisses on the cheek, hands held so the other wouldn’t topple over, hugs to congratulate the other on surviving another night -- all fueled by copious amounts of alcohol. Only very, very rarely had it amounted to anything else. Something about this felt wrong, too wrong considering what they had done the last time they had seen each other, too wrong considering they had just discussed her boyfriend, who happened to be Charlie’s friend in his own right. Never mind that he was still talking about golf -- if she wasn’t thinking about golf anymore then she was pretty sure that Charlie wasn’t either.

But it had already been a few seconds and she hadn’t rebuffed him; he was hurting, she supposed. Maybe his ex liked to mini-golf and Fflur’s careless suggestion that they play was just making everything worse for him instead of helping like she had hoped. Plus, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t really done before, though they had been far more drunk then and were wearing far more clothes now. She could give him the benefit of the doubt, right?

She realigned her feet as he instructed, ignoring his breath on her neck as she nodded along, gaze alternating between the ball and the hole. There was no space left between them now, and Fflur sighed, almost frustrated. Something like this was the beginning of a long hiatus in their friendship, and while it had been clear that any attraction between them had been a fluke, she really didn’t want to lose him, not again. She’d been having a nice time, his misery aside, and it was almost proof that she could spend time with someone who drank without also having to partake. She probably could have picked literally anyone other than Charlie to test that out, though.

Changing the subject back to her boyfriend seemed like the best bet, much better than elbowing him in the gut like she really wanted. “Line your shoulders up with where you want the balls to go,” she repeated with a snort as she took her swing, following it through with a step forward and away from Charlie. “That’s what I always tell Robin.” Fflur laughed as the ball sunk into the hole, glancing back at him with a shrug. “And I thought I was the teacher.”

As Fflur escaped his embrace Charlie blinked and straightened up. He inhaled deeply again and tried to focus on her face, grinning lazily and belatedly at her words. Was she flirting with him? He bit his lip, giving her another once over. It wouldn’t be the first time, he supposed. There’d always been a sort of tension, he thought. Or, he'd definitely realised it since that night, anyway. Probably before, if they’d ended up like that -- there was that New Year's too, he supposed. He didn’t like to think about this sort of thing when he was sober. Fflur was like a sister to him. Before their… hiatus… she’d been one of his best friends. Whether that had been a healthy relationship or not was up for debate, but it had been one he hadn’t realised he was missing this much until now; now that she was back in his life. Maybe it was for the best that they were re-meeting now, when he was single.

“What can I say? I have all sorts of hidden talents.” He smirked; it seemed those extra two pints over lunch were well and truly kicking in. Well, it hadn’t even been lunch – they hadn’t gotten around to eating, as had been the original plan. Maybe that was factoring into it as well. No breakfast, either, just more beers on an empty stomach after falling asleep with a bottle.

Charlie waltzed back over to his club and retrieved their balls from the hole. As he stood upright again he tried to ignore the warring voices in his head. The voice reminding him that this hadn't ended well before, that she was with Robin, and that he was just trying to fill the void. The void Kate had left, that he’d been trying to fill every waking minute with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Alcohol that was making him think this was even a remotely good idea -- it was, wasn't it?

He stepped over the low wall to the next starting point and placed her ball down on the mark, waving his hand out for her, “Ladies first.” He didn’t really move out of Fflur’s way as she stepped up to take her position. Usually the type of individual to be hyperaware of personal space, Charlie was seemingly ignoring the lack of it right now, once more closing the distance between them and using the pretence of ‘golf instructor’ to wrap his arms around her again before she’d even had a chance to bend at the hip.

This time, as Charlie’s hands slid over hers, they did so with a soft sort of caress. He held her in a gentle sort of from-behind-hug, which probably would have been permissible had he not curled his head into her neck and pressed his lips to her skin softly.

“Oh, sure.” Hidden talents. Fflur rolled her eyes as she put a bit more space between them, letting him walk ahead of her to the next hole. They weren’t keeping score, apparently, which was just as well as she had lost count of how many attempts she had made. It was enough that she knew she was losing. Seventeen more to go -- yikes. She followed him and rolled her eyes again as he let her go first. “What a gentleman.” He could be one, sure, if she chose to look past his more obvious flaws, like how close he had been, how close was still standing. She hadn’t even made an attempt at a swing yet, had done nothing yet worth critiquing or correcting, yet there he was.

Fflur sighed again, this time completely frustrated. It was familiar, but not in that good, sort of breathtaking way she imagined it might have been years ago. Instead the breath on her neck was just impossible to ignore or try to explain away, and she tilted her head in the direction opposite him. She wasn’t sure if the sudden obvious real estate of her neck had been misconstrued as some sort of invitation to him or if he simply didn’t care about the line he was definitely crossing -- it didn’t matter why really, so much as it mattered that his lips were against her skin, just below her ear where she certainly enjoyed Robin kissing her.

She had tried subtlety a few minutes ago, bringing her boyfriend back into the conversation, but as usual for most men he needed things spelled out clearly for him. His hands weren’t holding tight to hers, and it was easy to draw up her left arm — he should thank her for not using her dominant arm — and aim her elbow behind her with enough force to get him off of her; anything extra was just a bonus. She twisted around to face him, snatching her cigarette from her lips before managing to spit out a, “For fuck’s sake, Charlie.” She flicked her cigarette away in a huff, though she regretted it immediately, wanting something except her anger to hold onto.

Her next instinct was to slap -- no, he’d probably enjoy that -- or punch him, and at least this time she’d be able to remember it. She supposed she had a better grasp on judgement as a sober person, however, and she didn’t move quickly enough to retaliate while he was still doubled over.

“Dunno what you’re thinking, but you know that won’t make you feel any better.” All disparaging thoughts about herself aside, of course, she had just heard him talking about how much he wanted his girlfriend back. Never mind the STI. Or her boyfriend. His friend. “Christ.” She pulled another cigarette from the pack in her pocket, finally letting her club fall to the side as she used both hands to light up.

He wasn’t really sure what had come over him, other than a desperate need to feel something. Well, he got his wish – a sharp elbow to his abdomen.

“Oof—” Charlie grunted as he stepped back and doubled over, lightly winded from the blow. He knew Fflur had been a sportswoman once upon a time, but for some reason he was surprised that she’d been able to put that much force into the jab -- much like how impressed he had been when she'd given him such a fantastic black eye last time they'd been together, after the initial shock of everything had worn off.

He rattled in a breath and squinted at her, coughing dramatically before turning his head away from her again, avoiding her gaze. The musician placed one hand on his thigh for support, the other arm still folded over his stomach as he screwed his face up for a second – partly still from the pain but mostly from embarrassment. She was right. What the fuck was he doing? He might've been single but she wasn't.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He breathed out, his voice a little hoarser than usual. He coughed in his throat again. “I know, I don’t know what—“ His eyes flicked up to meet hers pleadingly. Shit. Everything had been going so well. They’d slipped so easily back into that comfortable place they’d once shared, the place he’d missed more than he’d realised, and he’d fucked it up in record time by trying to slip just a little too far.

“Fuck!” He swore loudly to nobody in particular as he straightened up. Charlie smoothed his palms roughly over his face, willing himself to sober up – though the ache in his stomach seemed to be doing a good job of that as it was. Long fingers pushed his dark, greasy-with-product hair back as they linked together at the crown of his head. He swallowed, looking dejectedly into the distance for a moment before his eyes popped when he remembered whom it was that Fflur was not-single with. “Robin—” He quickly spun to face Fflur, “I wasn’t thinking— I’m sorry. Shit.” Charlie let out a noise of frustration and disappointment; Robin, nor Fflur, had done anything to deserve this.

He turned away from the blonde and fumbled into his jacket, pulling out his own packet of cigarettes and promptly dropping them on the floor in his haste. For fuck’s sake. He bent to pick them up with a soft wince, for once not complaining because he knew damn well he deserved it, and pulled a cigarette out, fishing for his lighter in the back pocket of his jeans and shakily lighting it. Charlie took a deep drag and held it in for a second before letting it out in a large plume, shooting a furtive glance in her direction; he wouldn't -- couldn't -- just run away this time, he knew. He'd just have to learn how to behave like a fucking adult.

“I’m sorry.”

Fflur steeled herself, waiting for Charlie to somehow turn this around and place the blame for the situation on her; that would have been her first instinct, after all, if the roles were reversed. He was having a hard time standing up, let alone forming words; he really ought to be thanking her that she hadn’t aimed any lower, or used her good arm. She rolled her eyes at his apology, though she supposed it did help that he didn’t look like he was enjoying himself anymore. He started to agree with her, and she wanted to believe that he wasn’t just saying things so she wouldn’t be mad at him -- or any more mad than she already was -- but whatever the reason, he wasn’t trying to blame her. She had to give him credit for that, at least.

She watched him for a moment, not speaking, her unoccupied hand stuffed into her pocket. This rrally hadn’t been the ideal reunion, had it? There had been a lovely few minutes in the middle when things felt almost normal, but Charlie had bookended that with his bouts of sadness and — what was the proper thing to call what had just happened?

He turned back to her with a mention of Robin; “Oh, remembered him, have you?” She questioned him with eyebrows raised, probably looking more like a professor then than she had in her months of teaching. Fflur was going to tell Robin -- she had to, didn’t she? -- but some small part of her was already thinking she would leave out the bits about how pathetic it all was, really. She had believed him when he said he wanted his girlfriend back; he’d have to be feeling very alone to think that attempting anything with Fflur was a good idea. That had ended so well for them the last time, even though they hadn’t brought it up once, like nothing had actually happened. She didn’t let her mind drift toward Charlie being the one to invite her out today in the first place. He wouldn’t have planned for this, would he?

His second apology was met with silence again; what was she expected to say? ‘That’s tidy’ didn’t seem to be appropriate now, but she wasn’t about to terminate their friendship because of it. She needed to find the middle ground that didn’t somehow land them in another few years of radio silence.

The third apology warranted a response, albeit a very simple one: “Yeah.” She didn’t look away as he caught her eye, distractedly flicking ash from her cigarette. Fflur sighed and found a seat on the low wall separating the course from the rest of the place, stretching her legs out in front of her. She really had no inclination to keep playing, but leaving him now seemed like something he would do and she wasn’t about to stoop to his level quite yet. “You’re a piece of shit, y’know that?” She didn’t laugh, quite serious in her assessment of him, though there might have been the slightest hint of a joke there. Rolling her eyes, Fflur reached up and rubbed at the spot that Charlie had kissed with the heel of her hand.

“Fflur…” he started, but saying he was sorry one more time wasn’t going to do anything but make it sound like he didn’t mean it. His brandy-coloured eyes looked at her, pleading. He knew he couldn’t ask her not to tell Robin, but a small part of him was hoping she’d choose not to do so of her own accord. Perhaps that was too much to hope for. He didn’t know what kind of relationship his two friends had, but if it was anything like the one he’d had with Kate, it would be near impossible to keep something like this hidden forever. Charlie just hoped he wouldn’t bulldoze someone else’s relationship in the aftermath of ruining his own -- he didn't think Fflur would exactly be grateful, anyway.

Charlie watched dumbly as she sat on the wall – he’d expected her to leave. Not that this was some grand gesture of forgiveness, but it was better than the alternative. Charlie stood with his hands by his sides for a moment, looking every inch the naughty schoolboy who’d been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be -- how apt that Fflur was now a teacher, of all things. The musician shoved one hand in his pocket and used the other to take a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes firmly focused on the ground. What the fuck had he been thinking? Well, he hadn’t, really. That was the problem. He just wanted someone and Fflur had been the closest, most viable option -- familiar. Maybe Kate had been right to leave him – he just couldn’t help himself.

Charlie lifted his head to look at Fflur as she spoke. “I know," he replied quietly. He wanted to sit beside her, it would feel less like a telling off, but he knew he shouldn’t. A polite distance would need to be maintained for the remainder of… however long she decided to stick around. He kicked at a ‘moon rock’ as he twisted away from her slightly, looking around to check that no one had witnessed the interaction – fortunately, they were completely alone on the course. Evidently minigolf in Sheffield was not a tourist trap on a Sunday afternoon.

He sighed and turned back to face her, meeting her gaze and feeling all the worse for it. “I don’t know why I…” Charlie chewed on his bottom lip; he knew why, but he didn't think saying it out loud would help their situation. “I’ve been… drinking," he said, as if it wasn’t obvious and as if it was an acceptable excuse. He didn’t think it was, he was just trying to justify his actions in some small way without confessing something he couldn't take back. “I don’t even. It’s Sunday, right?” He’d gone out last night, and the night before that. He was pretty sure, anyway. It hadn’t helped either way, not really. At the time it had seemed like a good idea, but calling girls by the wrong name during sex should have been a sign that he needed to stop and take a hard look at himself.

“I don’t know what to do," the Englishman admitted meekly.