mardy bum [honey]

“Once or twice.” Honey held his gaze, not bothering to elaborate. It wasn’t a lie, not really, though she supposed those one or two occasions probably didn’t qualify as bragging; they were more like getting caught and having to explain herself or regretting it so much she had to tell someone. She could let him think he was important once; she was considerate enough.

She glanced down after another second and went back to her food, sopping up some egg from her plate with a bit of toast. Charlie wasn’t worried; Honey looked up quickly; she didn’t think she had been serious when she had said it -- that he shouldn’t worry -- but he really shouldn’t. She was well practiced at keeping Charlie -- or the subject of Charlie -- to herself. The first few months of their co-existence had depended on keeping her brother in the dark and last time, last year-- Honey nodded; not to worry. Breakfast was different than all of that, but there’d be no mention of it, bragging or otherwise.

Done eating, Honey set her fork down, pushing her plate a little to the side and bringing her coffee closer. She glanced toward the kitchen -- she’d appreciate a top up -- but she looked back to Charlie quickly, not really wanting to draw the waitress’s attention back to them so soon. She couldn’t watch him eat, so she stared into her cup instead, swirling the dregs around until Charlie spoke again. She slowed her swirl as she glanced back up, her expression somewhere between a cringe and a grin. Things at the store were fine and she was about to tell him as much -- despite how weird it was -- while leaving out the finer details of pretty much everything when he rerouted.

Honey smirked. “My door locks,” she said without hesitation, though she didn’t think he could have forgotten. That wasn’t meant to be an invitation; he’d know better than to think it was. She picked her coffee up but set it down again without taking a sip, realizing that this was Charlie. Everything with him -- with them -- was an invitation. “That’s kind of how he met my, er--” she shrugged, glanced away and back again. It was only Charlie, but she could hardly use the term ‘boyfriend’ with herself.  “I’m dating someone,” she said with a shrug like it was no big deal. “Fergie’s probably moving out soon,” she added, her smirk back.

Charlie kept gazing at her for a moment, not quite stunned but at least a little bit surprised. He had been living under the assumption that Honey had pretty much refrained from mentioning him to anyone, aside from those times when there was no way to avoid it -- Fergie, Grace -- and a more sensible train of thought told him those were the times she was referencing, but the needy part of him wanted her to be bringing him up out of superiority rather than necessity. Again, it would be inappropriate to ask, let alone run the risk of confirming the less preferable reasoning, so he chose to drop it -- with a small smirk, for good measure.

Honey had already finished her smaller meal, but Charlie was still working his way through his breakfast -- he wasn’t an especially slow eater, usually, but he may have been dragging this out a little just because he was beginning to enjoy it somewhat. It wasn’t like he could just.ask her out for a coffee or -- god forbid -- pop in for a cup of tea without starting world war three with Kate, and until right now he hadn’t thought he’d want to. They’d never really… just talked, before. Silly drinking games, plenty of flirty banter -- but that was all, and always leading up to the real reason they were seeing each other.

Turned out just talking wasn’t so bad. She was smirking, he was smirking -- maybe he would pop in for a cup of tea sometime. ”Unlocks, too,” he suggested, tearing into a piece of toast and trying -- failing -- to hide the smug expression through his chewing.

But she kept going, his jaw slowed. Charlie knew it was irrational that he felt slighted, but he did anyway. He knew he was married, and that he had left Honey for the girl he was now with -- but he’d never been very good about finding out there was a someone after him. He swallowed his toast and set the slice -- half-eaten -- back on his plate, deciding if he’d lost his appetite. He made an effort not to scowl, succeeded mostly, but his face had lost any of the playfulness it had had up until now. “Someone moving in?” he asked, avoiding her gaze and occupying himself with scooping the last of his beans and black pudding onto his fork, less interested in prolonging this encounter now but morbidly curious about who he was. He couldn’t help himself; he focused on her hands, cradling her coffee cup, rather than her face. “How long you been dating?”

It was supposed to be some kind of warning, rather, that anything other than breakfast would be a bad idea, but then Charlie shifted a little. Honey stopped smirking, raising one eyebrow instead. She wasn’t really disappointed that he looked a little taken aback -- crestfallen, if she was wishfully thinking (she was) -- and was avoiding eye contact with her. She might have moved on from him but he had moved on in a much grander fashion, getting married, and she was positive that she was doing a better job at not letting it bother her. She wasn’t smug, exactly, but she was close.

She watched him for a second, close to telling him that yes, he was moving in, but that was too far outside of her comfort zone -- living with someone -- and she didn’t think she’d be able to keep that lie up for long. “No,” she said instead, watching him move his food around his plate; she might have been hoping for him to look relieved, a little, but she reasoned that was only because that would take things a little closer to normal for them.

“Two, three months.” She shouldn’t want to make him jealous, but that little glimpse of it earlier wasn’t enough. “More like a couple of years but the last few months I’ve been--” she paused, shrugged, not missing that timeline was something similar to what she and Charlie had. “It’s going well,” she finished, figuring she didn’t need to elaborate on the transit of a side piece to something more, before turning to the approaching waitress with a smile.

Their plates were cleared and their coffees refilled, but Honey didn’t move to immediately dumping more sugar into hers; she was torn between thinking this was still harmless and knowing it wasn’t, considering she wasn’t planning to tell any of this to the boyfriend she was talking about. She made it a couple more seconds before she pulled the sugar bowl toward her, glancing down at her coffee with a casual, “Does that bother you?”

Why else would Fergie be moving out, if not to make room for someone else to move in? (There were plenty of reasons, of course, but Charlie wasn’t thinking logically anymore.) He knew that neither he nor Honey had struck anyone -- including each other -- as the types to ‘settle down’, and yet he had done so, so why couldn’t she? Before his mind could get too carried away, Honey ended his suffering; No. Relief didn’t wash over his face so much as lap gently at the edges of his expression, but behind that it surged through his veins, pushing out the heavy, envious feeling he’d had a minute before. Again, he knew it shouldn’t bother him, and yet...

Two or three months. He had to make a conscious effort not to scoff. That was hardly any time at all— but a couple of years was much longer. Maths was not Charlie’s forte, and he was trying to work out how long he and Kate had been together (three years, if you included the letters, and he knew he should include the letters), and how long they had been ‘together’ (letters included) before he had asked her to move in -- and a couple of years suddenly held a lot more weight behind it. And it was going well. Charlie set his fork back on his plate with a small clatter, chewing slowly and avoiding looking at Honey as the waitress came to clear their plates, top up their coffees.

He was working out what to say back to that -- he could lie and say he was happy for her, lie more and say she deserved it, or he could be more honest and ask how long until she’d get bored. He was teetering towards being polite when she spoke again; Does that bother you? His eyes flicked to hers. Christ, she was a bitch, using his own words against him -- especially given the circumstances. Charlie drank to give himself more time before answering, finally. “Was it going well last February?” he asked, still holding eye contact with her.

Charlie was quiet; it was so nice. She told him things were going well — and they were, considering their history — with her and Harlan and he didn’t have anything to say. Honey glanced up quickly from her coffee but he still wasn’t looking at her so she chanced a small (and smug) smile and looked down again.

He didn’t respond right away — again — to her somewhat hypothetical question and she had a (very brief) thought that it’d be better this way, not knowing. He was married and she was happily coupled and she shouldn’t have asked in the first place but it was Charlie; she thought she already knew the answer. He’s had a crush on her since he was what— twelve? (She made a conscious decision to not put that crush-having into past tense.) She watched him take his time, stall, whatever; she had a sip of her coffee.

It took her a second to properly process what he was saying: last February, with Charlie. “Get tae fuck.” She grinned, couldn’t help herself; her brief bout with trying to make him jealous had put her in a much better mood. “Nothing was going well last February.” She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, trying to remember what, exactly, she had said to him. It was enough that she had showed up to his flat, she supposed. But last February was also when she had picked things back up with Harlan after Will, so it wasn’t a total waste.

“I just meant,” Honey started, knowing full well that she owed Charlie no explanation; it was somehow easier than the silence. “It’s different with Harlan,” she finished after a few seconds with a small shrug, crossing her arms and leaning forward a little so she could rest them on the table. “I’m trying—” She stopped herself short of pointing out that he was married so he should know what she was talking about; she’d appreciate if her mind would stop reminding her of that little fact.

His lips stretched into a wide smirk, then a lopsided grin as he shrugged back in response – she was grinning, so she wasn’t mad at him, at least. He watched her for a second, thinking a little more about last February; he supposed that, on the whole, she was right – but he wasn’t going to agree with her openly, nor let her drop the subject that quickly. “Some things did,” he countered, holding her gaze for just that little bit too long to be entirely without suggestion.

He broke eye contact eventually to take a sip of his fresh coffee. Thankfully she waited until he’d swallowed to say It’s different with Harlan. Charlie breathed in through his nose – calmly, he thought – and flicked his eyes back up to Honey’s. He knew what she meant by different and it bothered him more than it should that she was saying this in reference to a man other than him.

Beyond that, what sort of name was Harlan? He chewed on the inside of his cheek, refused to give her the satisfaction of asking about— him – even if he was dying to know what made Harlan different. What did he have that Honey was settling for?

Charlie glanced at his coffee, out the window, then back again. He nodded when she cut herself off. “Yeah, I know,” he said softly. He knew what trying was like – he’d been doing it for three years with varying levels of success. Had gotten to the point where he wasn’t sure if trying was worth it – for either of them. “Pity,” he smirked, teasing (mostly). He took another drink of his coffee. “Not sure I’m the best person to give any sort of advice on that, so I won’t bother,” he smirked again, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes this time.

She nodded when he did. “Yeah.” He knew, like she assumed he did -- or he was just saying that to agree with her, which she also sort of assumed, too. His version of trying looked different than hers but what good would it do to point that out to him (again)? Honey rolled her eyes at his ‘pity’, deciding not to give it any weight. “For you and everyone else,” she agreed with a shrug, though she didn’t sincerely think anyone was actually disappointed she wasn’t sleeping around, for once.

“What a shock,” Honey said, deadpan, before sipping at her coffee. “I gathered that much all by myself, actually,” she added with a smirk. If she ever needed relationship advice -- and she wouldn’t -- she wouldn’t be asking Charlie; she had so many reasons but she supposed the main one was him practically being in love with her only a year ago and she was considerate enough to not rub things in his face too much.

She was spending far too much time thinking about things in a past life.

It was her turn to look out the window to avoid more conversation; it had stopped snowing; that was probably Honey’s cue to leave. She took a final sip of her coffee before pushing her chair back without much of a warning. She stood, starting to wrap her scarf as she offered her unnecessary excuses. “I’ve got to be going. Work.” Charlie had stood, too, and they looked at each other for a second; she wondered if he was thinking the same thing -- should they hug, awkwardly shake hands, nothing? They weren’t friends, not really, so Honey settled for the last option, stepping around Charlie to settle her half of the bill at the counter.

Finishing that, Honey turned back around to Charlie for another second. “Good to see you,” she said, figuring that was better than telling him ‘see you’, even if it was more of a lie. It hadn’t been the worst -- minus needing to tell him to fuck off a couple times -- but she didn’t want him to think she wanted to do it again. She turned and pulled her scarf up over her nose before she pulled the door open and stepped outside.

[[ out ]]

He made a more earnest attempt to smile at her comment. He wasn’t so sure about everyone else, but the more he thought about it the more he thought it was a pity.

“Ouch,” he replied, playfully wincing before shrugging it off. “S’pose I deserve that,” he mused, running a hand through his hair to scratch at the back of his neck. The silence dragged out a little longer between them this time but still Charlie didn’t find any burning desire to leave -- remarkable when considering the way in which this impromptu breakfast date had begun. He observed her as she stared out the window, thought maybe he liked Morning Honey a little more than he remembered.

She looked at him and he pretended not to have been staring. Then she stood, so he stood too. “Yeah, ‘course.” He nodded, then stood still a little longer -- should he hug her? (Had they ever? He couldn’t remember off the bat and he didn’t think post-sex snuggling counted.) He hesitated too long and Honey skirted around him towards the till.

Charlie followed, ready to cut in and offer to pay but she beat him to it -- for her half, at least -- by way of having a tab (of course she did). He glanced at the waitress behind the counter, then back at Honey as she said goodbye. “Yeah, you too.” He swallowed, mulling over that option to hug her again, but before he could work out the logistics and the potential consequences (Kate finding out, Honey thinking he was a twat) she’d gone. The door closed and he gazed after it for a few seconds too long before remembering he still had to pay for his half. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, sneaking another glance out the window as Honey made her way across the street.


END