a willing receptacle [alannah]

“I do,” he repeated, belatedly realising he was setting them up for a future date of some kind. The last thing he wanted -- or needed -- right now was to be jumping straight back into anything that even remotely resembled a relationship, but whatever was working, right? He probably didn’t particularly need to be trying to jump into anyone’s bed, either, but he thought that was pretty much a given for him by this point. Charlie Baker sleeping around was hardly a shocking headline anymore (he supposed they were getting a little more creative about how they marketed it now). If Alannah had read anything about him he suspected she wouldn’t expect to see him again -- but maybe she would.

Even as he had been answering Alannah, Charlie had felt like he was revealing too much -- something too personal. It wasn’t as though he was telling her his deepest, darkest secrets, but it still verged close to letting a relative stranger in, didn’t it?

But it had worked.

Alannah was gazing back at him in such a way that he felt confident in staying close. If he really wanted to lay it on thick he could have said You’re beautiful back to her, but that was too cheesy -- even for him. He held their eye contact for a moment longer, focusing unwaveringly on her piercing blue eyes that had somehow taken on a deeper shade as he stared.

Satisfied that she hadn’t pulled away, that she hadn’t come up with another thing to quiz him on, Charlie leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, his eyes closing softly. He gripped her hand a little tighter with his as they kissed, and frowned softly at the sensation -- he hadn’t kissed anyone since--- and he hoped Alannah couldn’t tell how hungry he was for it. He forced himself to be slow, gentle, chaste -- until she told him otherwise.

Either Charlie was a mind-reader or his thoughts simply mirrored her own.  As his lips first pressed against hers, there was an edge of hunger which briefly concerned Alannah but within seconds he eased off and the kiss that he gave her was surprisingly soft and slow.  Closing her eyes, the brunette let her lips part, smooth and receptive.  She felt his hand grip tighter and she squeezed back as her other hand slowly moved up his chest to grasp the back of his neck.  Pulling Charlie closer, she deepened the kiss.  It felt... great.

But this slippery slope they were treading couldn't possibly end anywhere good (no matter how much fun the descent might be).

What the fuck was she doing?  Al wasn't the kind of girl to go around kissing strange men in bars.  But that was the trouble - Charlie didn't seem strange, not after the way they'd been talking.  Alannah had been on dates where she'd developed less rapport, less connection.  Yet she couldn't afford to fool herself into believing that this thing with Charlie could be more than some alcohol induced infatuation.  The timing was all wrong.  Nevermind the gossip this would surely inspire and the potential damage it could do to their respective careers - Charlie was going through a divorce.  Whatever were to happen between them next, Alannah would never be able to feel sure if it were because he wanted her or because he wanted someone and any warm body would do the job.  She wasn't prepared to be his rebound girl or his momentary comfort.

This had to stop now, before they could get carried away, before one of them did something they'd regret...  Yet knowing what to do was often easier than doing it.  Mind and body were not always aligned.  Alannah drew back only to return her lips to his for another kiss. And then another.  Finally, breaking away, breathless and flushed with bodyheat, Al shook her head to clear it of the alcohol - and of him.  "Charlie," she murmured, eyes opening to seek out his gaze.  "I don't think this is a good idea.  For either of us."

Her lips parted and Charlie was quick to take the opportunity when it presented itself. He was losing the battle to behave -- though he'd like to think he could at least blame her for that. As Charlie felt Alannah's hand snake up his front and around his neck to pull him closer he twisted towards her, dropping his hand back to her thigh -- less careful about his placement this time.

Alannah drew back, Charlie braced himself for a slap -- it didn't come, but her mouth did. He grinned back into another kiss, then another, pressing his body closer in the dark of the booth as his hand slid higher inch by inch. It hadn't been that long, really, but long enough that he was aching to touch more of her -- and for her to touch more of him.

They parted again and Charlie blinked his eyes open softly when she didn't return to him. Despite the loud murmur around them of other people enjoying their night, clinking glasses and the odd drunken yell, Charlie could only hear their ragged breathing and his blood pulsing in his ears. He met her gaze, his eyes dark with desire. But she was right, he knew it. He'd known it before they'd even gotten this far. It felt as good as it did bad. Guilt surged through his veins now that they were no longer locked together. He nodded once. "You're right, I'm sorry--" He licked his lips, wanting to taste her again but knowing he wouldn't. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closing again briefly as he mumbled "We shouldn't," between breaths.

"You--" He pulled back just enough to be able to see her face in full, biting softly on his lip. "I really want--" He didn't know what he wanted. Well, he did -- he wanted her. But not like this. He swallowed. "I. Where are you staying?" he asked quietly. The moment he realised what he'd said his eyes widened. "To get you home, I mean, not…" He wouldn't be adverse to it, he supposed, if she changed her mind en route, but-- no, he wasn't going to do this. He searched her face, then removed his palm from her thigh, taking the hand that been around his neck in his hand and stroking his thumb over the back of it gently.

"Maybe some other time?" he asked with a small, sly grin.

He didn't try to argue or change her mind, which she appreciated with such ferocity that she barely held back from kissing him again.  "Don't be sorry," Alannah whispered, fingertips lightly curling around and stroking the back of his neck.  She truly didn't blame Charlie for anything and wasn't angry or upset (not even for the hand that had been advancing up her thigh).  It was as much her fault as it was his.  There had been no trick or undue seduction on his part, Al had let him kiss her because she liked him.  It had happened because she'd wanted it as much as he did - but that didn't make it right or smart.

The press of his forehead against hers was perfectly bittersweet.  Al rested there, waiting for the heat and speed of her racing pulse to ebb away.  Part of her wished that he would do something wrong so that she wouldn't have to miss this when it ended.  "We shouldn't", she agreed softly, while dreading what came next - letting go.  For a moment Alannah pushed away all thoughts of outside things, the murmur of other people in the bar, all of the reasons why their embrace was potentially a mistake...  so that her whole world comprised only of what it felt like to be held by Charlie, the beat of his heart and sound of his breathing.

He seemed to be struggling to say something.  Alannah gently prompted him to continue with a smile, "Charlie?"  I really want...  She bit her lip and looked away, unsure if she was prepared to hear what he wanted.  When he asked about where she was staying, a sense of disappointment started to sink into her stomach.  Hadn't they just basically agreed not to go any further?!  Al hadn't been trying to be coy when she said that they shouldn't... Why the fuck would he think - Oh.  Charlie quickly clarified what he meant and to her relief it seemed like they were on the same page.

"Maybe.  Sometime..."  She mirrored his grin before giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek, "but not tonight."

"I have an apartment in Gravesend, if you really want to see me home?"  It was sort of sweet if he did, particularly knowing that he wasn't going to get any.  Alannah felt grateful for the offer, if only because it was an excuse not to say goodbye yet.  She glanced up towards the clock over the bar, realising with a jolt that she'd lost track of time a little.  "We could probably make the last train if we hurry."  Sliding out of the booth, Alannah stood with only a slight wobble.  She ran one hand through her disheveled hair and used the other to draw Charlie along with her as she walked towards the exit.  Casting a glance over her shoulder at him, she grinned.  "Think you can keep up?"

He could still feel a gravitational pull towards her, some force (ha) trying to draw him back in. Her fingertips were tickling the back of his neck and he frowned softly -- from trying not to jerk out of her touch as much as from wanting to lean in for more. Fuck, he wanted to ignore reason: he didn’t think she’d push him off, she was definitely as into this as he was, but he didn’t want to do that to her, and she didn’t want him to be sorry, so that was a start, wasn’t it? No point spoiling things now-- Who was he? He glanced at the unfinished beer bottles abandoned on the table beside them; thank God he hadn’t started on the spirits.

They peeled away from one another -- but not before Alannah’s lips were back on his skin; Charlie smiled with another nod. “I’ll take a maybe,” he smirked. Maybe was better than 'never'.

“Gravesend?” he repeated. Seemed obvious, when he thought about it. She worked there. Not everyone loved London -- shit, he didn’t even love London. It was convenient for him, more than anything. As he gazed at her Charlie realised he didn’t sound particularly enthused about taking a trip out East. “Yeah, I meant it,” he confirmed, “not gonna let you go home alone.” Not looking like that, not in the state she was in. A small part of him was still optimistic they'd get all the way to Kent and she'd decide to invite him in, but he didn't want to lift his hopes only to have them shat on. “Train?” He followed her gaze to the clock, staring at it as she extracated herself from him.

Charlie let her tug him gently to his feet and towards the door. He kept his eyes on her (backside) rather than anyone around them -- it occurred to him, belatedly, that this looked just as bad to an onlooker as if they were shagging: leaving together, holding hands, after spending however long in that booth. If he was lucky Alannah would at least appreciate that he hadn’t pushed the matter -- yet. No, at all. He was going to get her home, watch her let herself in, and leave.

“Are you asking me for a race?” he grinned at her as she looked back at him. They reached the door and exited the bar, the cooler night air hitting them squarely. “Which station is it you need?” he asked, looking up and down the street in either direction.

The outside air was brisk and nipped at her bare arms and legs.  Yet the cold felt pleasant against her feverish skin.  Alannah took a deep breath.  Tilting her head back, she blinked up at the streetlights and the sky beyond.  It was beautiful.  Whether it was the influence of the alcohol or Charlie himself, this was one of those moments she felt good to be alive.  It would be easy to forget herself and kiss him again - but she didn't.

“A race, sure,” she replied belatedly, tearing her thoughts away from how well the night accentuated his features and made him look like some sort of god of sex, music and alcohol.  This must be what his fans saw when he was up on stage... but as appealing as that was, Alannah wondered what a daytime Charlie, a Sunday morning breakfast-in-bed Charlie might look like...  A distraction was what she needed then and a quick sprint to the station would be a good way to burn off the sexual energy they’d built up in the booth (or conversely, stoke the flames).  Alannah loved a little friendly competition, especially when it came to physical feats.  Releasing his hand, she turned to face Charlie, eyes sparkling.  “If you think you have a chance of beating me,” she teased.

“St Pancras.  I think it’s that way.”  Alannah pointed off down the street.  Watching his gaze follow her extended finger, she abruptly spun around to begin running in the opposite direction.  Laughing, her dark hair flying behind her like a flag, Al enjoyed her head start.  She felt no remorse for the mislead since Charlie had the advantage of not wearing heels.  The athlete was sure that she could outrun him under any normal circumstances but with however-many beers in her system and a little black dress that kept threatening to slide up and flash her rear end to onlookers with every stride she took…  he might just have a shot. 

Had they not been in a hurry Charlie would have pulled her closer, walked them leisurely to the station with his arm around her waist and giving her as much warmth as was publically decent -- but Alannah had other ideas to keep warm. “Pff, I’ll smoke you,” he scoffed confidently.

Charlie had thought she was joking -- even with the tipsy trash talk -- was about to take her hand in his and set them on their merry way when Alannah raised her fingers to point in the wrong direction for the station. “St Pancras is--” he got out before recognising the clacking of her heels for what it was -- she’d legged it down the street, ridiculous shoes barely slowing her. Charlie grinned to himself and tore after her, slipping between the odd passerby and not stopping to think about how him chasing her down the footpath must look at this time of night in this part of London.

He caught up to her quickly, would like to put that down to his own athletic prowess rather than her being handicapped by her shoes and the dress he’d been watching ride up her thighs from behind, tugged down every few strides (regretfully). They turned one corner then another, running almost side-by-side and darting around bins and people -- most of the obstacles somehow getting in Charlie’s way rather than Alannah’s -- until they reached the station and he slowed to a jog then a stop.

Charlie laughed and bent over slightly, thankful they’d only been a couple of streets away and that he hadn’t drank more before leaving the bar. “Come on,” he said breathlessly, leading them into the station proper and squinting up at the departures board. “Shit,” he swore upon seeing the time the train to Gravesend was due to depart and the time on the larger clock above the board. “Quick, go through,” he urged her, fumbling his wallet out of his pocket to scan her through the turnstile with a gentle shove before vaulting himself over (he’d never needed more than one card before).

He pushed her forward, encouraging her into another sprint as they ran for the platform they needed, ignoring the shouting from behind them. “Two,” he said, hurrying her towards a set of stairs and wrapping his arm around her as they took them quickly. They weaved between a sparse crowd -- other intoxicated people, workers finishing late shifts and waiting to head home -- as Charlie spotted the train they were aiming for.

They stumbled through the doors together just as they began closing, the compartment mostly empty at this time of night. Charlie grinned and pulled Alannah in to his chest, grabbing the pole overhead for stability as the train pulled away and lurched them sideways. He laughed again, coughing lightly into his elbow through his panting. He looked down at her and wet his lips. “You’re gonna kill me,” he grinned again before leaning in to press his lips to hers before he could think not to.

The dash to the station was exhilarating, despite the awkwardness of having to constantly yank down her skirt.  Of all the nights to choose to wear a dress, rather than a sensible pair of jeans!  Charlie caught up with her quickly and kept pace all the way.  She cackled with glee every time he almost ran into something or someone (no doubt because he was spending more time looking at her than where he was going).  When she arrived, exuberant, outside of the station, Alannah was barely out of breath, although a little dizzy.  Unfortunately, there was no time to celebrate victory (or did he win? She wasn't sure).  Nor was there time to tease him for being breathless and sweaty.

He propelled her through the station, even leaping the turnstile like a rogue.  "Charlie!" she exclaimed, laughing at this daring - and quite unnecessary - act.  There wasn't a chance to explain that she had her own card before they were racing along again, trying to beat the clock.  Alannah almost tripped on the stairs but was held steady by his arm around her waist.  As it was, they barely made it onto the train.  She fell against him as the carriage lurched sideways, her heart racing as Charlie pulled her against his chest. 

Their bodies jostled together with the bump and sway of the train, the city speeding by as a blur outside the windows.  She stared at him, at his grin, and was confused as to why he was so sure of her murderous intent.  Had the race been that bad?  Or was there some other reason he thought she'd want to do him in?  Were they not on the right train?  Then Charlie was kissing her and she could find any reason to care if they were on their way to Gravesend or Timbuktu.  Andrenaline singing in her veins, Alannah gasped against his mouth and brought her hands up to wrap around his torso.  Instinctively she shifted to align their bodies together more snuggly, pressing into his hips.  She'd always been a physical girl, used to giving in to her body's instincts, whether it was sports or fighting or sex.  Running to the station had been a really bad idea in hindsight because it hadn't been enough to tire her, only get her fired up.  Gripping handfuls of Charlie's shirt, she could've torn it off his back but it was the scandalous idea of being caught with a half-naked Charlie Baker on public transport which finally broke her free.  The ship had probably well and truly already set sail on them trying to be discrete but that'd really be pushing their luck too far.

Laughing, she playfully pushed Charlie away.  "Hey, quit it.  Quit being so damned..."  Irresistible.  Alannah just shook her head at him, still grinning.  Flushed with exertion, she swayed away from him and made her way deeper into the carriage, searching for somewhere they could sit together (preferably with witnesses nearby to help keep the two of them decent).  It was too much fun with Charlie, so much so that Al couldn't be sure that she could trust herself to be alone with him...  and that couldn't happen.   All of the reasons not to take this further remained.  Besides, the things people said and did under the influence of night lights and alcohol weren't necessarily real.  For all she knew, Charlie might turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck midnight - or a gremlin (it was probably best not to feed him or get him wet just to be safe).  Dropping into a seat, she patted the spot next to her in invitation.

He kissed her back eagerly, a soft noise escaping his mouth into hers at the feel of her body pressing against his. He was silently congratulating himself for offering to see her home, smirking into their kiss, smug with the urgency of her grabbing his shirt. The hand he had wrapped around her back drifted lower--

Alannah pulled back, but she was laughing as she pushed him away. He might normally have been disgruntled to be discarded so easily but her grin was infectious. “Being what?” he called after her; he watched her walk away for a moment, enjoying the view before he caught a reproachful look out of the corner of his eye from a lady sat near the door. He shrugged at her and followed after Alannah, hands going for the rails one after another as they moved deeper into the carriage.

She found them a seat (it wasn’t hard, there were plenty of empty ones around, but apparently this was the one), patted the space beside her as she settled into the window seat. Charlie smiled, taking the seat next to her, one long leg stretched out into the aisle. They sat in silence for a moment, just the noise of the train rattling down the tracks and the odd cough from another passenger. He wanted to kiss her again, pick up where they had left off. His whole body felt like it was charged with electricity -- he hadn’t had fun like this in a while. He hardly wanted to insult the woman next to him by thinking he’d likely, in time, forget how it felt to kiss her, but he thought the rest of the night would stick with him -- the stupid Star Wars discussion, racing through late night London, hurdling over the turnstile to make the train just in time.

He was still breathing a little heavy -- their brief athletic trial coupled with ten years or so of smoking and a quick makeout session to top it all off. He cleared his throat and reached to take her hand in his softly, his palm up, resting on his thigh. He swallowed and lifted his gaze, glancing at her and then away. “How long does it take?” he asked quietly, his voice a little hoarse from the various activities; he’d never been to Gravesend, never taken this route. He barely took the train as it was, come to think of it. “Do you normally… you don’t apparate?” he asked curiously. It’d probably be a better alternative to splinching himself. Maybe he’d look for a place near a station, when he got around to house hunting -- not like that would be hard in central London, the underground was usually only a few streets in any direction--

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He didn’t want to think about anything else that was going on in his life. Alannah had been a good distraction from all of that -- he’d completely forgotten the time and place in her presence, wrapped up in their own little bubble. Charlie lifted his gaze to meet hers again, lingering this time. He wet his lips, glanced at hers.

Alannah was staring out the window, watching the passing landscape in an attempt to soothe her spinning thoughts.  Yet she couldn't help being intensely aware of Charlie as he settled into the seat next to her.  It was like she were a radio and he the frequency she had tuned into.  The sensation of their last embrace was still buzzing like electricity through her veins.  When he took her hand she squeezed it firmly and turned to meet his gaze, a smile automatically forming on her lips. 

"Not too long", she answered vaguely.  Alannah felt like the rules of time had been broken anyway - a minute could feel like an hour or a second when she passed it in his arms.  A slight shift in her posture was all it took to snuggle against his shoulder.  “Are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?” she asked softly.  It was a question made up of part teasing and part genuine curiosity.  Eyes half closed, her attention shifted to examine the angles of his face, the curve of his neck, the rise and fall of his chest…  She wanted to commit all of him to memory. 

“Only when I've been drinking,” she explained with a grin.  “Gotta be responsible and all that.”  The 25-year-old was not opposed to taking risks but didn’t fancy the idea of losing her limbs in a drunken apparating accident.  That’d just be a really dumb and not particularly fun way to injure herself.  “Might not be as quick… but at least we'll get there in one piece,” Alannah mumbled the last few words, becoming distracted by the way he was looking at her.  Unconsciously she leant in to lightly brush his lips with hers while thinking that the best thing about taking the train was that it gave them a little more time together.

Alannah drew back before he could deepen the kiss, before they could rediscover the heat that had flared up with their last embrace.  “Behave,” she said with mock sternness, as much an admonishment for herself as it was for Charlie.  Resting her head on his shoulder seemed safe enough so that’s what she did, taking a deep breath.  Al was becoming a little frustrated with herself for letting a guy have such an effect on her.  She’d never been a head-over-heels kind of girl and needed to regain some control.  Searching for some subject of conversation, Alannah thought that they really ought to get to know each other better (in a non-physical sense).  What circumstances had created this man who sat beside her?  Charlie wasn’t from London so that seemed like a good place to start.  "What was it like where you grew up?" she asked, gazing up at him attentively. 

Not too long. Charlie didn’t press her -- he had wanted like, a numerical figure, ideally, but he supposed in a way it was better not knowing. They’d get there when they got there, and that would be that. He smiled to himself as she cuddled into him, smiled wider at her question. “No,” he replied simply, honestly. If he had his way he wouldn’t be getting rid of her for a few more hours, at least, but he didn’t think telling her so would work in his favour -- and, again, he thought maybe it was better her way. He could feel her eyes on him, pretended not to notice as he gazed out the window past her.

“That is responsible,” he smirked smally, his attention back on her now. “I should probably do that,” he murmured back, letting her close the gap as her lips grazed against his softly. Charlie barely tilted his head -- ready to make out -- before she halted them again. He was convinced now that she was being a tease on purpose. Behave. He grinned mischievously. “Me?” he raised an eyebrow at her. “That one was you,” he smirked again, smug in the knowledge that she was just as drawn to him.

Alannah laid her head on his shoulder and Charlie sat back in his seat properly, attempting to be a comfortable pillow and to behave. She was quiet for a moment -- he could only hear her slowed breathing -- and he assumed she might have drifted off, as drunk people tended to do, until she spoke again in a hushed tone, turning her face up to him.

Charlie tipped his chin to look down at her, once again swept sideways by her change in direction. “Sheffield,” he said, answering the question she hadn’t asked. He almost shrugged, stopped himself so he didn’t disturb her from where she was curled into him. “S’alright,” he began, not really sure how to describe it. He went home often enough but it hadn’t really felt like home for many years -- first there had been Hogwarts, spending most of his teenage years there, and then as a young adult he’d toured around, spent a year give or take in North America, briefly considered settling in Paris, before finally setting down roots in London out of convenience.

That was probably the best place to start, to compare to. “Greener than London. Lots of like, parks and that. My parents are on the edge of town, like, last street before it just--” he raised the hand of the arm she wasn’t resting on to gesture a dip and a rise, another dip, “-- rolling hills. It’s by the Peak District.” He inhaled slowly, realising belatedly he was once again letting her in without thinking twice about it. He shirked the notion that he shouldn’t. “The city itself is...” he lifted his hand again, shook it in a ‘meh’ sort of motion. “Was big in the industrial revolution, you know, steel and whatever.” He licked his lips. “It’s a nice enough place, ‘specially where mum and dad are, but, I dunno, not for me.” He smiled lopsidedly at her, his cheeks taking on a faint pink tinge under her scrutiny.

“What about you?”

Listening to him talk, Alannah could just about picture a place where the city’s edge gave way to a rolling landscape.  She tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up there – on the verge of civilisation and nature.  Charlie didn’t seem to love his hometown the way that she loved hers but maybe he was just trying to be cool about it.  "That sounds really nice."  She smiled, thinking that he really deserved another kiss for that but restrained herself to a light peck at the edge of his jawline. 
 
“Kenmare,” she responded, her smile turning wistful.  “Probably looks like a fucking pimple compared to Sheffield.”  Alannah gave a little chuckle.  “Dunno, it’s small and quiet.  Got none of this...”  She raised a hand to gesture vaguely towards to sky, meaning to indicate the light pollution.  “…to get in the way of the stars.”  That was one big difference Al had noticed about city life, the sky was never quite as pretty.  Although she thought all of the twinkling artificial lights had their own charm, as though the whole place were always decked out in Christmas decorations.   

“It’s on the edge of where the bay meets the river,” she continued, “with hills and mountains, trees…  All of that.  You kinda just take it for granted until the tourists show up and they’re all like, oh how pretty, how cute.”  Alannah used her hand to mime taking photographs.  “Not much to do there though.  Which is probably why everyone loves their sports and Quidditch so much.”  She was certainly no exception to that rule. 

“It is awfully cute,” she mused while snuggled into Charlie’s shoulder.  He felt warm and she was getting rather cosy.  “All the little old shops and houses all in a row, painted up in bright colours with flowers hanging in baskets or growing in window boxes.  It’s… quaint.”  Alannah glanced up to offer him a wry smile.  “I don't know if I ever really fit in though.  My mum’s family is from around there but my dad is foreign and they both travel for work which sort of already made them usual - and of course there was me.”

“I remember they had to come up with some excuse for why I was going away for school so they made out like my dad wanted me to be schooled in France, experience his culture y’know.  And one of the neighbours got it in her thick head that I was going to some kind of young ladies etiquette school where they like teach you how to curtsey and which forks not to use, junk like that.”  Alannah rolled her eyes at the thought.  “Made sense to her, I guess, that that was what a girl like me needed.  Then she was forever telling my parents they were being ripped off, ‘cause clearly the lessons weren't working.”  Al grinned a little mischievously, going so far as to wink at Charlie.  “She just didn’t like me since I kicked a football through her front window.  Twice.”  The first time had been an accident, the second hadn’t.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was Charlie, but she found herself spilling her thoughts without hesitation.  “I miss it.  Or at least… the idea of it.”  Alannah stared off into the distance as she spoke.  “You can visit, but home never feels the same again once you move away.  Not so much that it changes but you do.”  It was a little sad to acknowledge that there was something a person lost when they grew older, that could never be regained – the innocence.  She looked back over at Charlie, searching his eyes to see if he knew what she meant.  “I think I miss how easy I thought everything was going to be…  back when I was naïve enough to believe that all you had to do was want something enough…  then you've got to grow up and discover that sometimes life is just a bastard and things don't work out the way you want, no matter how hard you try.”  She thought about the Griffins then and her bitterness was turned right around.  “Sometimes, though…  Sometimes things work out better.”  A warm smile lit up her features then and realising that she’d been rambling on about herself, Alannah playfully poked Charlie in the belly.  “Hope I’m not boring you.”  She leaned in, thinking he probably deserved a kiss (or two) for listening. 

Alannah was gazing up at him -- he wouldn’t go so far as to say enraptured, but… His eyes closed softly at the light brush of her lips on his jaw and he smiled, drunk and becoming slow and sleepy with every rock of the carriage now that they’d sat down.

She started talking again and Charlie opened his eyes enough to not actually fall asleep, breathing in and out slowly as he listened, squeezing her hand gently in another attempt to show he was paying attention. He had never been one to stargaze, aside from studying astronomy for seven years in school (his interest in the subject extended to it being an easy pass, something that you couldn’t really get wrong), but he would agree that the stars were always easier to see back home than they were in London.

She was still going, her Irish accent lulling him despite his best efforts to remain alert. It was all very outdoorsy sounding -- Charlie didn’t hate the idea of that, but had always agreed with the sentiment that if there wasn't much to do, people generally did each other. He supposed there was plenty to do in London, but only so much you could do alone to keep you occupied without a day job -- maybe therein laid his problem. Hm.

Cute, she said, as she snuggled into him. Charlie tensed, almost imperceptibly, before forcing himself to relax again, be a good pillow. He could certainly picture the kind of town she was describing -- thought it did sound cute, might have been using a certain Scottish village near Hogwarts as a placeholder in his mind.

Her next tangent struck a bit more of a chord with him. He smirked when she mentioned etiquette school -- a devilish grin and a wink from her was all it took to fully recapture his attention. Charlie sat up a little straighter, ran his free hand back through his hair. She was back to Kenmare and how she missed it. He was about to ask why she didn’t stay there -- it wasn’t like they didn’t have the benefit of magical transport at their fingertips -- but as she continued he found himself agreeing with her again; she was right -- it might stay the same, but you didn’t. He nodded silently, gaze lowered to their entwined fingers in his lap.

Charlie felt her eyes on him again and turned his head to face her, holding her gaze as she spoke. It felt, to him, sort of like she was talking directly to him -- describing his experiences too. Or some of them, anyway. Sometimes things work out better. Would they? They could hardly be worse, he reasoned with his own conscience.

The prod in his stomach jolted Charlie back to earth; he sucked his gut in instinctively, not that there was much to pull in, and looked back at her face and the way she was inching closer once more. He wet his lips. The harsh lighting of the train was a lot less moody than the dark bar they'd started snogging in, but Alannah was gorgeous enough that she looked good in any light. "You're not boring me," he replied at a murmur, watching her lean in just long enough to be sure he wasn't going to be told off again. He closed the distance and pressed his lips to hers, turning slightly in his seat to face her better (and shield them from anyone else in the carriage).

He was still full of a burning desire to kiss her, press his body to hers, get rid of every last bit of space between them -- but whether it was because he was adapting to her temperamental on again, off again snogging sessions or because he’d already accepted that that was as far as they’d get tonight, or because the alcohol was finally catching up with him and drawing him closer to slower, sleepier kisses -- a softer tongue -- he didn’t know, but he'd lost some of the urgency from back in the booth.

Charlie brought the hand not holding Alannah's up to cradle her jaw as they deepened the kiss, his thumb on her cheek.  He thought they could do this until the train reached their destination -- resolved to keep kissing her until she or the train stopped.

Alannah prepared to draw back after lightly giving him a few reward kisses but she sensed that he wanted more and couldn’t find the willpower to resist his lips.  It was less urgent now, sweeter.  Raw passion had been replaced with something akin to tenderness.  She was more comfortable with this and more amenable to continuing, drawing out the kisses long and slow.  Ultimately this was what she wanted, to savour the experience, not rush it.  A chemistry clearly existed between them, there was no need to burn it all out at once. 

She lost track of how long they were wrapped up in each other, making out like a pair of teenagers just discovering how to kiss (although with a little more skill, she hoped).  Her free hand had come to rest against his collarbone and Al could feel the steady beat of Charlie’s pulse even through his shirt.  She liked the way his hand felt against her cheek and leaned into it when she finally broke away.  “I don’t normally do this,” she murmured, voice soft with half-drunk sleepiness.  Alannah didn’t intend to take them into any serious territory or start discussing expectations.  It just seemed important to her that Charlie understand he was the exception, not the rule. 

The momentum of the train shifted as it started to decelerate.  Alannah felt the change and knew that this meant they must be approaching a station.  She glanced up to confirm what her instincts had already told her.  “Gravesend coming up.”  Rising slowly to her feet, the brunette took a moment to straighten her dress and run a hand through her tangled hair.  She bit her lip as she watched the platform draw closer, knowing this also meant that they were nearing the conclusion of their time.  Nodding wordlessly towards the doors, she indicated that he should follow. 

Alannah was quiet as they stepped out onto the platform.  The questions she could ask next, the jokes or stories they could share…  No matter how slowly they walked the several blocks to her apartment, there wouldn’t be enough time.  Was there any point to it anyway? – the most cynical part of her mind whispered.  She and Charlie couldn’t really be an item, surely.  Not now, not like this, with his divorce and all the judgement of the world looming over them.  It made her a little sad - that and knowing with certainty that she would neither give in completely to physical temptation with Charlie nor ask him for anything more serious.  This would just have to be one of those whirlwind nights that people wrote poetry and music about.  A precious but fleeting thing.

He knew better than to do this again, or he should. This was verging far too close to the exact thing he was leaving -- had left, been left by. Alannah wasn’t Kate, but there was enough of Kate’s tenderness, Kate’s reservedness in her to have him second guessing what exactly he was doing here, even with their lips locked and their tongues in each other’s mouths. Charlie had been about to resolve the issue, pick the pace back up again to distract him from thinking, but Alannah broke them apart softly, leaning into his touch.

He kept his hand at her jaw, absently stroking his thumb over her cheekbone as he gazed at her, the embers of their earlier passion threatening to catch again. I don’t normally do this. Charlie had heard those words before, countless times. Plenty of those when he hadn't believed it, and then a select few when he had. Kate had said them, once upon a time. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about Kate when he had-- this in front of him. He moved his hand back to tuck her dark hair behind her ear, pulling out all the tricks as he delayed, considering her declaration -- he would have found it more difficult to believe if she hadn’t kept stalling. Girls who said that and didn’t really mean it usually didn’t request quite so many intermissions.

Technically, he didn't usually do this either, if he took this to mean his view of events. He picked up women in bars often enough, went with them back to theirs -- but he didn’t divulge quite as much of himself as had felt natural to do with her. He didn’t get on a train, take a girl home knowing he wasn’t going to be invited in (obviously, there was still a tiny shred of hope, but it was growing smaller and, surprisingly, less important the longer they were together). Charlie swallowed, still holding her gaze, and simply nodded once in acceptance rather than risk opening his mouth. He thought he believed her.

The train started slowing and Alannah broke their eye contact to glance up and away. She moved to get to her feet and Charlie did the same reluctantly, stepping aside to let her walk ahead of him up the carriage to the door; he stayed close, ready to wrap an arm around her if the train lurched again.

They exited in silence. Charlie couldn’t help but feel they were both thinking the same thing: they were almost at the end of the night. He wet his lips and reached out to take her hand in his. "No running away this time," he teased quietly with a small smirk, encouraging her to lead them in the right direction. He didn’t think she’d suggest another race, it would only serve to shorten what time they had left and Charlie didn’t think it was his ego telling him that she wasn’t in any hurry to say goodbye.

They began walking. He waited another minute before speaking again; “You into football then?” he asked, harking back to the conversation on the train -- or rather, her extensive monologue -- as if they hadn’t dropped it to start making out. “Are you-- one of your parents muggle, or--?" It was something you didn’t really ask anymore, but he had to ask something or it would be like walking to a funeral.