i drove all night [honey]

One hand snaked around the back of Honey’s neck, holding her to him as he kissed her eagerly. A light shiver ran down Charlie’s spine as her cold fingers slipped under his jacket, easing it off of him. He dropped his hands and arched his shoulders back to help her—it fell to the floor with a soft thunk—whilst busying himself with dragging his lips along her jaw, down to her neck, breathing hot against her skin—

He paused, then drew back enough to look her in the eye and laugh — at surface, specifically. “Not unless you want to,” he said, smirking softly. His expression relaxed as he gazed at her, and it took him a moment to realise he was staring. He flicked his attention to the street outside, blurred through the windows but not enough to not be obvious what they were doing should someone walk past. “Should— Upstairs, though?” he offered, more for her benefit than his own. He bent to grab his jacket in one hand, then took her hand in his other when he rose back up — to lead her through her own shop to her own flat, above it.

Charlie threw his jacket on the nearest chair once they were in, and turned back to Honey, still holding her hand; used it to pull her closer and kiss her again, immediately feeling at ease when she kissed him back. They stumbled backwards (or he did, Honey was walking forwards) towards her bedroom and he stopped them in the doorway, gripping it with his free hand to steady himself (those whiskies were catching up, in more ways than one). “I’ll just—” he mumbled against her lips, reluctantly peeling his face away from hers. “One sec,” he grinned, stepped around her to cross over to the bathroom, shutting the door with another quick grin.

He quickly used and flushed the toilet, washed his hands, tried to fix his hair—just pushed it back, flatter—and considered pulling his t-shirt free from where it was sticking to his skin, then thought better of it when he realised he could see some muscles through the wet cotton and figured Honey might appreciate it.

When he opened the door Honey had been scooping a pile of clothes off her bed but stood up straight, as if she hadn’t been and it was a horrendous act to be caught in. Charlie raised an eyebrow at her from across the landing (the two doorways lined up — which was sometimes fortunate, sometimes not), then grinned lopsidedly as he strode to her bedroom.

He paused in front of her just long enough for Honey to decide she needed to use the bathroom, too, and Charlie nodded and stepped out of her way. Back on the landing, he could see the fire had been lit in the living room; most of the lights were still off, but he could see the place was a tip. He rubbed at his jaw, then took his shoes off, ready. He stepped back into her room in the same moment he heard the bathroom door click open again.


[ out ]

She could go either way, surface or no surface. “Am not picky,” she said, returning his smirk, not coming right out and saying she was a tiny bit worried about his leg; she could apologize if it failed them, she supposed. But they should go upstairs, he was right about that much. Even with the rain, the windows were still see-through and she was pressed up against the door, the glass panes. “Yeah.” She was breathing quickly, and she bent to pick up her apron as he did the same for his jacket. He pulled her along after him and she smiled (once she was sure he couldn’t see), shifting her gaze down to his backside to distract her from thinking about his hand-- the salve for the blisters clearly worked and at least now he could stop using it (because she liked the callouses, anyway).

Her flat was a mess--usually the mess was limited to her bedroom, but it had spread the past week, her laundry and dishes neglected--but he didn’t notice or didn’t care or she was a good enough distraction. There was no hesitation as she kissed him back, wasting no time before pushing him back towards her bedroom, only pulling back very briefly to pull her jumper over her head. He stopped the progress a few seconds later and she blinked up at him. “Oh, right.” Honey shifted to the side, just barely, glancing around at her bedroom once she was left alone.

She held onto the door frame as she stepped out of her shoes, moved back down the hall to the kitchen to light a fire--it was obvious how cold it was in the flat once she wasn’t pressed up against someone--then back again to her bedroom, surveying the mess again. Her gaze landed on a stack of parchment on her bedside table, letters clearly from Harlan despite him only signing with an H, and she glanced over her shoulder at the still-shut bathroom door as she scrambled toward them, opening the drawer directly below the letters and sweeping them into it. She grabbed a pile of clothes off her bed and straightened up, in time to meet Charlie’s eye across the hall. She threw the clothes to the side and stepped toward him, lingering a minute before stepping around him to take her turn.

She finished up quickly--not bothering to pinch color into her cheeks like she usually would because she was already flushed from all the whisky in a short span of time--as she was eager to get back to business. “Okay,” she said, pulling her t-shirt up by the hem as she stepped toward him.

[[ thread ]]