forever isn't for everyone [fflur]

  ..

‘We need to talk’ was never a particularly good phrase to hear; considering that Fflur had just had an interview published in which she didn’t explicitly deny a relationship with the man saying those words to her... it certainly wasn’t going to be great. But he was back with the American -- Kate, she reminded herself -- and she also hadn’t confirmed anything in the interview. It was a ridiculous interview anyway, and she figured that Charlie could see that. Going from quidditch to muggleborns and then using that to question her friendship with the man.

It might have been her own fault for agreeing to do it all in the first place; she didn’t have a publicist anymore and could have probably benefited from some sort of guiding hand. It had been more successful than her last interview, anyway; significantly less inebriated. That should count as a win, really.

The window above the kitchen sink was open; there was the slightest breeze; Fflur had ditched her school-required robes for her life-required leather jacket. She had a cup of tea in front of her, a paperback book in one hand, her other hand busy scratching behind the dog’s ears as he laid his head in her lap. She wasn’t really reading, not really drinking her tea, more just glancing at the clock across the room. She had offered to meet him in some third location, wanting to nip whatever rumors there could be in the bud, but here they were. It was a school day, so at least there wouldn’t be any prying eyes of students in the village for him to avoid, she figured.

She hadn’t told Charlie about her lapse in sobriety -- why not, she wasn’t sure -- but she didn’t think that today was really the day for it. The possibility that she could have been more tight-lipped in the interview by staying sober probably wasn’t the best reveal she could make. Robin had appreciated his mentions, anyway. Positively dreamy. While she doubted that Charlie could be upset he didn’t get a similar nod, she’d really appreciate it if that was the actual reason for his visit.

The knock happened a split second before Bert’s barks and Fflur let the dog beat her to the door. She slid to a stop, socked feet on the hardwood, just before the door, and she pulled it open with a smile, one hand on Bert’s collar. Fflur stepped back, bringing Bert with her, letting him calm down as Charlie came through the door and closed it behind him. She figured she’d let the man state the real reason for his visit before she dug herself a deeper hole.

With her free arm, Fflur pulled him into a hug, taking care to not squish Bert between them; he was calming down, and she let go of his collar after another beat; he sniffed Charlie once before losing interest and retreating to the sofa. “Drink?” She took a step backwards in the direction of the kitchen. “I have tea. And more tea. Maybe also water.” She smirked, still wondering why she wasn’t being completely honest about the bottle of vodka on top of the fridge, behind the loaf of bread. She’d figure that out later.

Charlie heard the telltale barking of Robin’s dog behind the door. He’d grown used to the idea, slowly, that two of his close friends were a couple. It had felt weird coming to Robin’s house to see Fflur the last time they had caught up, but it seemed surprisingly normal this time around. Charlie tried to keep his expression impassive as he entered the cottage quickly; he doubted there were any paparazzi as such in Hogsmeade but that didn’t mean there weren’t nosy neighbours. Of course, Kate at least knew he was coming here and why – but he didn’t want to stoke the fire that he was trying so desperately to put out.
 
“Hey, trouble.” The musician hugged Fflur back, glad they had finally moved past that awkward stage following his… mistake back in February. The musician crouched down to give the Golden Retriever a proper welcome – avoiding Fflur’s gaze for the time being. He wasn’t sure how well, or poorly, she was going to take his news. He realised he would be softening the true blow somewhat by reducing his married status to that of engaged (after all, he had promised Kate that only they would know they were already husband and wife), but he knew it would still be a shock to the system.
 
It seemed Bert was as interested in Charlie as his owner might be at this particular moment; Charlie still wasn’t sure how Robin felt about the weird little triangle they now found themselves in. Charlie had been much closer to the older man before Fflur had re-entered the picture – which, unlike most situations where the friend felt jilted by a new girlfriend, Charlie had rediscovered in Fflur one of his best mates. Which was why he was here today. He hoped Robin wouldn’t take this as another blow to their own friendship.
 
“Yeah, cuppa tea would be great. Milk, no sugar.” He replied, standing up and following her further into the room. He glanced around and took a seat on the part of the sofa not occupied by Bert. Charlie gave the dog another scratch behind the ears as he waited patiently for Fflur to return with his tea, thankful to have something to do with his hands other than twiddle his thumbs anxiously.
 
“Cheers.” He took the mug from her carefully and took a sip, letting out the customary quiet ‘ah’ noise of approval before setting it down on the coffee table and waiting for her to sit. For all the time he’d spent trying to formulate how best to relay his news, it had all emptied out of his head the moment he’d stepped into the cottage. Charlie looked across the room at Fflur and blurted out “I’m engaged.”

“Milk, no sugar. Right.” Fflur offered a crooked smile before turning and heading back to the kitchen, leaving Charlie to fend for himself in the living room, as she repeated his order to himself. She didn’t bother with her wand as she set about with the kettle, buying herself a couple more minutes before she needed to start apologizing. Probably. Her gaze drifted to the top of the fridge, where she knew the vodka was, but she shook that idea out of her head -- for the time being, anyway. Was it more or less awkward to not start a conversation from the other room? Fflur leaned against the counter after pouring milk into two cups, waiting for the water to finish.

She handed a cup of tea to Charlie after a few more minutes with a, “Cheers, yeah.” She sat on one of the comfy chairs near the sofa, pulling her feet up under her. Fflur sipped at her tea, once more not wanting to bring up the subject of the article before it was absolutely necessary. You know how interviews are, she was prepared to say, sure he would understand. She had plenty of practice not talking to people, too (thanks, Nerys) so he definitely would need to bring it up himself.

Fflur looked up as Charlie spoke, blinking a couple times as she processed what he said. “You’re engaged?” She raised her eyebrows and leaned a little closer. “To Kate?” Last she had heard (or read), they were still dating. She and Charlie hadn’t spent enough time together post-incident for her to properly pry into his love life -- not that she particularly wanted to, considering what had happened the last time she had attempted to give him some advice -- but he had at least told her that he and Kate were trying at it again.

“Engaged, engaged? Like, to be married?” Fflur bit her lip, replaying all the things she had heard about this girlfriend -- fiancee? -- directly from his mouth, separating out the things she had read or overheard from ‘fans’ at school. There were red flags everywhere -- Charlie was a red flag -- but people could fix things. People could have problems and get past them and Fflur knew from experience that defending a relationship to others’ wasn’t exactly fun and she was getting completely sidetracked and probably projecting a little too much --

Fflur laughed, shaking her head clear of any of the ‘are you sure?’ questions and skipping immediately to, “Fuck, I mean, congrats, right?” She stood up and set her tea down, resettling herself on the sofa beside Charlie after giving the dog a scooch. She pulled him into a hug, a real-no-longer-nervous-to-talk two-armed hug. “Is she er-- conveniently sober for the next nine months?” Fflur pulled back from the hug, her hands still holding tight to Charlie’s upper arms. “Not that that’s bad or anything, just want to make sure I can offer you a proper drink with a clear conscience.” She smirked, tilting her head toward the kitchen.

Smooth. Really smooth.

Charlie lifted his mug to his lips to take another sip, but paused before he got to it. “I, yeah.” He replied, somewhat sheepishly. “Yes, to Kate.” He confirmed, the tone in his voice shifting; he was clearly a little miffed that Fflur thought there might be someone else he’d found in such a short a space of time to consider spending forever with. “Who else?” He queried, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes, to be married.” Charlie’s frown deepened -- he was starting to feel a little offended that this was such a shock to Fflur. He was also, somewhere, worried that he’d rushed this (again), and her reaction wasn’t helping calm those nerves. He knew that he was not the most likely candidate to be walking down the aisle, but she needn’t be so blatant about it. She could at least pretend to be pleasantly surprised. Fflur knew how much Kate had affected Charlie when they’d broken up -- shit, he’d tried to kiss her he was so messed up by it.

Fflur laughed and his scowl made its presence fully known -- he was two seconds from getting up and walking out, he’d find someone else -- but then she was congratulating him, and his forehead smoothed out again. The next few moments passed in a state of mild confusion on Charlie’s behalf -- her processing was giving him whiplash. Fflur’s arms were around him before he really had a chance to say or do anything, and he was hugging back whilst trying not to spill his tea on her -- Robin’s -- sofa. “Thanks.” He mumbled to the back of her head, still mid-embrace.

She released him and Charlie’s eyes flicked to the mug in his hand as she held onto his arms, wary of the hot liquid within sloshing around. His attention snapped back to her at her next question. “Conveniently..?” The penny dropped. “No! Jesus, she’s not pregnant. I--” hope not seemed unfair to Kate, but he wasn’t ready to skip to kids already. One life commitment at a time. The hard glare was back at this… assumption, accusation? Whatever it was that suggested he’d only marry Kate because he’d knocked her up, and then it was gone again almost as soon as it had appeared. A proper drink? “I.. Nah, I can’t drink while you’re--” sober. But she couldn’t be, if she had booze in the house.

He looked at her seriously. “Are you?” he asked. Fflur would know what exactly it was that he was asking. He knew Robin had started drinking again, but he’d made it clear that Charlie wasn’t to tell Fflur. And he hadn’t. As much as he had felt like a shit friend for keeping secrets from Fflur, he didn’t want to meddle in someone else’s relationship -- well, not any more than trying to snog his friend’s girlfriend. His best friend.

Fflur didn’t bother apologizing for her delayed congratulations -- he must have known how out of the blue this was. The last she had heard, he and Kate were ‘back together’ and things were left at that. Sure, avoiding talk of relationships was probably for the best considering what had happened the last time they had such a serious chat, but still. Thinking about getting married seemed like it warranted at least a mention. She nodded into the hug, her dumb, lopsided smile thankfully obscured from view.

She raised her eyebrows as he considered her question, tilting her head forward just a bit to encourage him to answer. Conveniently, she nodded. “Ha! Okay, okay.” She released her grip on his arms as she rolled her eyes, waving one hand absentmindedly. He couldn’t very well be surprised at that question either. It wasn’t that she was so convinced Kate wouldn’t want to marry him unless she had to, or vice versa, but professional successes aside, Fflur and Charlie were similar. Too similar. And it wasn’t that she thought she wouldn’t want to marry Robin, but that hadn’t even come up seriously in conversation -- and they hadn’t broken up or had affairs or -- not important.

Maybe it was just proof that people really could get their shit together. Huh.

Her gaze shifted toward the kitchen as she abruptly changed the subject, scratching her head idly as she looked back to Charlie, her lips set in a hard line. “Er, nope.” She didn’t have to ask him to clarify what he was asking her about. Fflur had never intended to hide the news -- could it really be called ‘news’? -- from him and it wasn’t like it needed some grand reveal. It wasn’t a problem. Hell, she hadn’t even been the one to tell him she was sober in the first place, Robin had that honor.

“Don’t tell Robin,” she said seriously, urgently. Robin already knew, of course, but she had just had the pleasure of remembering that Charlie had been privy to Robin’s ‘news’ and kept it from her -- again, not that she really cared, but it was enough that she wanted to make him uncomfortable for a few seconds. She stood up and shrugged, taking a few step backwards as she kept talking. “It’s not bad,” she reassured him, or herself, or the dog. It had been weeks -- months? -- and he hadn’t noticed. Never mind that they hadn’t actually spoken in person or anything. But it truly wasn’t bad -- she certainly wasn’t trying to hit on the man in front of her, for a start.

She grabbed the bottle from the top of the fridge after hastily shoving the bread aside. “Really though,” she held the bottle in a half toast, doing her damndest to move the conversation away from herself. “Happy for you.”

Charlie blinked at her. “You’re not?” He had to refrain from grinning with glee -- almost failing as the corner of his lips twitched momentarily. He knew he shouldn’t be happy about it. Or should he? It was difficult to know if this was planned, in so much as that this was all a part of recovery, or if she’d fallen off the wagon. He didn’t want to ask. A part of him was concerned it was the latter, but a larger part was more preoccupied with being excited to have his Fflur back. Not that she was different as a person when she was sober, just a little less fun. Marginally.

Don’t tell Robin. His eyes widened and he swallowed. It was bad enough having to hide Robin’s drinking from Fflur, now he had to do the same in reverse? It wasn’t like he saw them both on a weekly basis, but it still felt like an impossible task. Too many things to hide from people he cared about. Even now, he wanted to tell her that Robin was drinking again. He wasn’t yet convinced that it was necessarily a bad thing for Robin -- he’d seemed to hold his own well enough when Charlie had met up with him in New York. He just hoped he hadn’t derailed any further. “Yeah, sure. I won’t say anything.”

“I… alright.” Charlie nodded, trying to process the news properly. How was one supposed to act around someone who had, up until recently, been teetotal and was now drinking again? It was hard enough for him to adjust to being around people who didn’t drink, let alone when they started again. With Robin it hadn’t been so bad; their friendship hadn’t been built solely on alcohol. With Fflur, however, almost every interaction they’d had up until this year had been fuelled by wine or whiskey or something else. And when they had last hung out, Charlie had been the one who should’ve probably eased up on the drink.

Were there rules about this? “Er, thanks.” He cleared his throat, happy to move away from the subject of drinking by… drinking. Charlie rolled his lips, buying himself some time before he started working towards why he’d come here in the first place. “I, you’re the first one outside of.. family,” he reached up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly, “And the boys, obviously.” He added, referring to Sam and Liam. “You took it better than they did.” He offered her a wry smile, “I thought Liam was gonna have a fit.”

Fflur shrugged. “Nope,” she confirmed one more time. It’s not that bad, she continued silently, though she was the last person who needed reassurance. She watched Charlie’s face for a reaction to her ‘don’t tell Robin’ request, and his expression was nothing less than satisfying. Satisfying enough that she didn’t correct things to the truth right away. She put on a grateful smile instead and offered a, “Thanks,” as seriously as she could. It was probably easier than it should have been.

She turned back around and grabbed two more tea cups, throwing a couple cubes of ice in each before reentering the living room, cups in one hand, bottle in the other. “Wow really?” Fflur raised an eyebrow as she resumed her seat next to him, pulling one leg up under her as she twisted the cap off the bottle. Telling her right after family and the band, who was basically family too; it was like they were back to their real normal now, not the normal she had been trying to reconstruct the past few months. She smiled as she poured them out perfectly reasonable, celebratory sized drinks.

“Took it better than Liam, I’m almost flattered.” She returned his smile as she handed him his tea cup of vodka, doing her best to picture his bandmate having a bit of a blow up. She didn’t know him as well as she would have liked to, at some point, but she figured her mental imagery was near accurate enough. “Guess he just cares more about you than I do. Stronger feelings and all that.” Fflur tapped her cup against his before taking a swallow, already pacing herself.

She brought her other leg up under her and shifted until she was comfortable, steadying her cup as she did so. All settled, she had another sip, bringing the cup away from her face enough to ask her next question: “Guessing you’ll be wanting to tell Robin yourself?” She posed it like she was just asking if she should keep the news a surprise or not -- she didn’t want to ruin Charlie’s big reveal, of course. She looked at him over the rim of her cup, holding it as if she were waiting for it to cool off before she could take another sip. “Maybe next time you two get drinks?”

Charlie scratched at his nose. “’Course,” he said nonchalantly, as if there was nothing amiss – though the fact he was avoiding looking her in the eye probably gave him away. He played it off as though he were merely taking in his surroundings; he hadn’t been here often, so it might’ve been believable that he was interested in Robin’s décor.

Charlie’s lips stretched into a slow smile as she poured their drinks and handed one to him. He knew better than to comment on her bartending skills, but there was a reason he’d always been the one who mixed their cocktails when they were preloading. Fflur lacked imagination – or perhaps she really just didn’t care what she was drinking as long as it had a high alcohol content. “Really.” He confirmed. Now felt like it would be a good time to be out with his real reason for being here, but it she was still talking about Liam and that was part of it too. He sighed dramatically and offered her a lazy grin, “Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that.” Liam had always been… melodramatic. Charlie had hoped over time he might mellow out, but if anything his fellow Slytherin was becoming more diva-ish. “Mhm, feelings is one word for it.” He didn’t want to get into it really – Kate had already voiced her concerns about Liam and what exactly his problem was. For once, Charlie wanted her to be wrong.

To avoid having to discuss Liam any further right now – he was sure that he would come up again as the afternoon progressed – Charlie lifted his teacup to his lips and took a sizeable sip, blinking only slightly as the vodka burned down his throat. He didn’t hate vodka on its own, but usually he’d at least warmed up with a couple of beers or mixed drinks before progressing to drinking it straight.

“Erm,” Charlie coughed lightly, then took a drink from his teacup, all the while trying to figure out how best to politely decline the opportunity to announce his imminent wedding to Fflur’s boyfriend; he’d been obvious enough about his feelings towards them dating, let alone getting married. “I mean, I’m not gonna be able to make a personal visit, like for your ladyship.” He lifted his teacup at her and nodded in a mock-solute, smirking in an attempt to make it seem less like he was avoiding Robin. “I was just gonna write him, but you could—”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he comprehended what she’d said. His mouth fell open and a few gargled sort of noises came out before he finally managed “I’m sorry—I wanted to tell you, but he said he was going to—”

She was laughing. He stared at her, bewildered, before his expression shifted into an offended scowl. “You little shit.” He sagged against the back of the sofa, letting out a sigh that sounded somewhere between relief and frustration. “Nevermind," he waved his hand around, as if he was explaining something, "I’m giving the job to someone else.” Charlie knocked the rest of his vodka back, the ice rattling against his teeth.

Fflur was half expecting Charlie to ask for whisky -- it had been long enough since they had a drink together that she thought she had forgotten their unspoken rules to not criticize her poor choices in alcohol -- but he had actually forgotten or was being too polite to say anything. Maybe he really did feel bad about not telling her about Robin’s drinking. Maybe she should tell him that she wasn’t actually mad about it. Maybe.

She nodded along as Charlie danced around the subject of Robin again. She lifted her tea cup to return his salute to her ladyship, pinky outstretched, and took another sip. She hadn’t yet stopped to consider that this was the real reason for his visit; hopefully that mean he hadn’t read the interview, or better yet, he had read it and didn’t care.

Fflur lowered her cup, her eyebrows as close to her hairline as possible. The look on Charlie’s face was enough for her, and she was about to tell him to stop, everything was fine, but then he started apologizing. She almost felt bad -- almost -- as she started laughing, searing his ‘I wanted to tell you’ into her brain. It was worth the shit she was surely about to get.

She grinned as he realized the real gist of things; he sat back and she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before making an obvious point to flex her fingers before quickly balling her hand into a fist, repeating it a couple times as she laughed again -- she just wanted to remind him that it was good she wasn’t really mad. “You little shit,” she matched his accent as she rolled her eyes. Could he really blame her though?

“Job?” That word was enough to distract her. The end of the school year was in a few weeks, which meant that the end of her pay was in a few weeks, and while she had plans to go to New York, it also be nice to not run out of money -- she had recently taken up an expensive hobby again. He had just called her a little shit, though, so she wasn’t about to make herself out to be desperate. “What, you were gonna let me carry your guitar case? That’s tidy.” She rolled her eyes and finished off her drink, lowering her cup to hold it lazily in her lap.

“I hate you.” He lied, leaning forward and grabbing the vodka Fflur had brought with her. He topped himself up, intentionally not bothering to do the same for her – partly to be petty (because he was and always had been) and partly because he didn’t know how much she was currently allowing herself to drink, and there was no way he was going to be blamed for rushing her to run before she could walk. He'd save it for later, when they -- hopefully -- had more celebrating to do. He rolled his eyes, “I don’t even sound like that.”

Charlie took a swallow of vodka and frowned at her. After a moment he sighed, relaxing back beside her and scratching at his ear absently. “It’s not exactly a paid position,” he glanced around the room; he'd not quite figured out how to bestow this honour upon Fflur, assuming of course that she accepted. Blurting out that he had a job for her had not been his intent. As he surveyed Robin's living room his eyes landed on a copy of the Prophet that had been unceremoniously shoved between the cushions of an armchair— he'd almost forgotten about that. Charlie wet his lips just to try and stop himself from grinning. It wasn't easy, but he managed to keep it under wraps.

“But I’ll get to that in a minute,” he turned to face Fflur abruptly, with a scowl on his sharp features. “Where the fuck did they get that photo from?” He asked, clearly unimpressed and intentionally making it seem like his anger was directed at her, as though the article had somehow been her fault. He didn’t blame her, of course, and he certainly wasn’t genuinely upset by an innocent photograph from several years ago, but he wasn’t going to let her make him sweat and not take the chance to return the favour. This might, in fact, be the only chance he got to do so, while it was fresh for both of them.

He wasn’t finished. Charlie wasn’t looking at her now, as though the whole thing was just too much. He propped his head up with his hand, elbow on his knee, shaking his head lightly in mock-disbelief. “You know, it’s bad enough Kate thinks I can’t have any friends that aren’t blokes, because who would trust me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing the bottle again and raising his voice a decibel or two, “Exactly. And then right when I’m trying to convince her to let me have you as my Best Man she has to open the paper to that shite.”

He tilted his head to meet her gaze, smirking, the leaned over to pour a conservative (to him) slosh of vodka into her teacup. “I think you owe me.”

“Mhmm.” Fflur shrugged. He didn’t hate her; he did sound like that. She eyed the vodka bottle as he poured himself another, narrowing her gaze as he didn’t do the same for her. “Not paid,” she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she fished an ice cube from her cup and popped it into her mouth. Not paid wasn’t really something she was looking for, but she’d hear him out like she always did. She followed his gaze around the room, realizing what he was looking at half a second before he had turned back to look at her.

Her grin faded quickly, replaced by a grimace. Fuck. “Right, well,” she paused, scratching her head with her free hand. The ‘sports’ reporter interviewing her had surprised her with a photo, from 1996 apparently, calling her ‘Charlie Baker’s Mystery Woman’. 1996 was ages before there was any mystery (and lack thereof) between them, but she hadn’t pointed that out. Instead, she had pointed out how good her hair had looked -- it didn’t -- and wonderfully deflected everything.

“It was a shitty photo, us walking somewhere I guess.” Really, it could have been much worse. Arrest records, photos of them actually doing something, anything from the French papers -- hell, she had so graciously punch him just to deflect these sorts of rumors. She wasn’t going to get to explain herself, though; Charlie wasn’t looking at her anymore and she watched him, her mouth set in a hard line. So much for her putting aside that whole ‘incident’ in Sheffield for the greater good. She opened her mouth to answer her question -- that it wasn’t Fflur’s fault he shouldn’t be trusted -- but he knowingly cut her off.

Wait. Fflur furrowed her brow, going over what she had thought she heard him say. He was convincing Kate to let Fflur do-- what? She raised her eyebrows; his smirk was almost confirming that she hadn’t misheard him. She dropped her gaze to her cup as he (finally) poured her a refill, meeting his eye again as he spoke. “Oh, fuck off.” She rolled her eyes as she took another swallow of her drink.

“Is that really the way to ask your mystery woman a favor?”

Charlie laughed, glad he’d been able to act convincingly. “Serves you right for being a dick.” 

Ugh, his mystery woman. He’d already heard enough of that from Sam (Fflur was a delicate topic for Liam so Charlie assumed he hadn’t wanted to bring it up for fear of it being confirmed -- he’d never told Liam about that night; he hadn’t told Sam either but the former Gryffindor was a lot better at reading people); how he should have seen this coming, as if he was meant to know Fflur would ever agree to be back in the papers willingly and that that same paper would drag up a photo from 1996. “Oh, pardon me, I forgot I was in the presence of your ladyship.” He rolled his eyes, “Hang on, take this,” he handed her his nearly-empty teacup and got to his feet.

He turned back around to face her and dropped to one knee, resting his arm across it because was he fuck going to hold her hand. “That better?” He smiled up at her smarmily, took his teacup back from her delicately, then cleared his throat dramatically. “Fflur, know what when I say this it really says more about me and my poor choices than it does about you, but I want you to be my Best Man.”

He was looking at her with what could only be described as unintentional puppy-dog eyes. “Don’t make me stand up there with Liam.”

“You little shit,” she said again, though this time she wasn’t attempting to mock him. She had some thoughts about this actually serving her right; he had started it after all, but whatever. She was pleased he wasn’t actually upset, especially since she had been close to saying that nothing they had done really qualified her for ‘mystery woman’, maybe just ‘shitty friend’ but that would require hinting at things that they were clearly not hinting at.

Fflur pushed her hair back over her shoulder, as if it was obvious he was in the presence of a lady. “Oookay,” she said with eyebrows raised, though she took his cup from him without another word -- and immediately poured the rest of its contents into her own.

She managed to keep a straight face for roughly two seconds, grinning as soon as she nodded her confirmation that yes, this was much better. She handed his cup back with a smirk, leaning forward to rest her elbow on her knee and to rest her chin on her fist, watching him expectantly. It still hadn’t really hit her, what he was asking, until he said it again. He wasn’t wrong; it did say a lot more about his choices than hers, didn’t it?

This wasn’t a small ask, was it? He mentioned Liam again and she found herself wondering why he wasn’t asking one of them. This probably wasn’t the time to ask. She also supposed she shouldn’t ask him if he was sure; they had been talking again for maybe four months; was that long enough for them? Never mind that four months ago he and Kate had not been together, and Fflur was more or less okay with how that had turned out.

“Yeah, okay.” She smiled again, pulling on his arm to get him up off the floor. “But only to relieve Liam of this duty.” She nodded before taking another swallow of her drink. After he was sitting next to her again, Fflur pulled him into a neck hug. “You do remember I’m not a man, right?”

“Good,” he sat back beside her, grinning. He’d considered explaining the reasons why he didn’t want Liam, or indeed why he’d picked Fflur over Sam, but they all made Fflur sound like she wasn’t his first choice and, when it really came down to it, he thought she was. Sam had been his immediate thought, but -- potential for causing a rift in the band aside -- there’d been a reason Fflur had popped into his head as a good candidate, gender roles aside; she was one of his best friends, and he still kind of held it against Sam that he’d tried to warn Kate off Charlie.

He was about to reach for the vodka bottle again -- Fflur had, after all, commandeered what little of his drink he’d had left -- when she pulled him into a hug. Charlie leaned into her and wrapped his arm around her waist cautiously (they had embraced just moments ago, but February was still playing on his mind), before hugging back more in earnest. "Thanks."

He let out a short laugh in her ear, rolling his eyes -- though she couldn’t see -- at the idea he’d forgotten she was a member of the fairer sex. “Yeah, I think I can remember where I’ve put my--”

Charlie realised what he was saying almost too late and stopped talking abruptly -- well, it was too late, not almost. His arms and torso had tensed in their embrace and, though he was thankful Fflur couldn’t see his face he knew she didn’t need to to know he’d said more than he should have -- and he didn’t need to see hers, either. They’d both been living under the shared assumption, or agreement, that the other person didn’t remember that night in Paris (or any of the near-misses that had come before), and Charlie had just revealed, in no uncertain terms, that he did remember.

Slowly, he pulled back, then made the mistake of looking her in the eyes. Shit. He quickly glanced away and his sights landed on the bottle of vodka; more alcohol would fix this situation, surely. He reached for it and busied himself with topping up his cup, then hers, clearing his throat and trying to will his cheeks to return to normal from the bright warm tinge they’d acquired; “The wedding,” he started, still not quite meeting her eye as he tried to plough ahead, “it’s mostly looking after the rings and --” he knocked back a gulp of the clear liquid, “-- organising a stag night,” he coughed lightly and brought his hand up to cover his mouth, some of the vodka having gone down the wrong way in his haste to keep talking about anything other than his revelation. “Oh, and it’s in California. The wedding. We can... do the stag night wherever you want, it's on me.”