could you possibly do a kinda dark Charlie Kelly x female reader smut , where Charlie is obsessed with the reader like he was with the waitress and the reader feels bad for him and finally gives him a chance I could see him being really whiney and excited!!
PICKING UP A STRAY
summary: on your way home from work, you catch charlie outside your apartment complex in the rain. you don’t have the heart to tell him to go home.
pairing: charlie kelly x reader
cws: reader has a 9-5 job, reader is implied to be broke/struggling, afab terminology, reader has a bra, i imagined reader as a lady as per request but technically reader’s gender isn’t really specified, stalking, premature cumming, charlie unintentionally overstimulating himself, charlie is very unhygienic, bad sex but it’s okay reader fixes it, “making love,” charlie is a closet pervert, reader and charlie are both pathetic in their own ways, charlie is EXTRA pathetic though, panty sniffing, panty stealing, the year is ambiguous so you’re free to picture whatever season you want, excessive plot before porn, plot holes i’m sure but reader HAS to be insane for this to work, reader is bitchless, charlie is nervous and excited, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), not really proof read
wc: about 6k
reblogs appreciated!
5:08 PM
ON A FRIDAY
the ten minute drive home from work was always a little depressing. you didn’t exactly live in a comfortable area in the city, and it only looked more gloomy in the dark, gloomy rain; the further you got from the bustling heart of the city and closer to your humble apartment, the more the reality of your life brought down your mood. the music humming in your car does it’s best to drown out the harsh patter of rain hitting your roof, but it wasn’t enough to truly distract you. you pull into your usual parking spot outside of your apartment building, aching to just get inside and rot inside your bed. at least you got to leave work a few minutes earlier than usual.
stepping out of your car, you grimace slightly as the rain waits no time in soaking you. you’re quick to slam your car door shut and lock the vehicle, before making haste to your apartment building. you wrap your arms around yourself, hoping your light jacket will spare you even just a little. you’re approaching your door when you see it — him, actually.
“charlie?” you stop, squinting. in contrast, he looks like a deer caught in headlights as he whips around; he stands straight, the bushes he stands in catching on his worn out jeans. even drenched in rain, you could recognize charlie a mile away — after all, he was your non-threatening stalker. it was a long story, really, but it’s important to recap. it’s important because, while he was non-threatening (for now), he was still stalking you. sometimes, you wouldn’t see him for weeks, and would almost forget the amount of times you’ve changed apartments.
it all started about two years ago. while you were working at an old service job, charlie was your customer. he was with two of his friends, and you were polite — that was your job. to be polite. a job that you really needed at the time, and so, you always did your best with customer service, no matter how rude or strange a customer was. maybe you were a little too good at it, because it had certainly left a lasting impression on charlie. he kept showing up by himself after that — most of the time, he wouldn’t actually order anything. he’d only linger, making various poor attempts at conversation with you; which, of course, since it was your job, you had to offer polite conversation back. people hitting on you at work is always an awkward situation, especially when the person doesn’t directly ask you out, leaving you unable to verbally reject them. maybe charlie knew you would, and so he never gave you the opportunity.
it went on like that for a couple of weeks. after that, you’d see him less and less. it didn’t stop, but it was no longer a daily occurrence. another few weeks went by before you started noticing some odd things — your hair was suddenly much nicer than usual, which was odd considering your cheap shampoo and conditioner. the outside of your car looked less and less dirty, as if you started regularly taking it to the cleaner — which you certainly did not do. you’d suddenly have extras of basic necessities laying around, ones that you swore you were running low on. maybe your memory was playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help but feel weird about it.
you finally found out the reason behind these things one day while you were getting out of the shower. you had gone to your room to get dressed, only in a towel, when you saw a figure move down the hall in your small apartment. at first, you froze — then, you grabbed the nearest blunt force object available, and carefully tip toed towards the opening of the fall, which lead to the open concept entrance, living room and kitchen. there, you saw a disheveled figure struggling to prop open your kitchen window. you had yelled, with a shaky voice, for the person to freeze and turn around — what were you, a cop? no matter, when they had, you saw him. and that was when you discovered that charlie had been meddling with your life in secret. he argued that he was helping it, but you weren’t so sure you could get behind the idea.
after that, you moved out as quickly as you could. rent around city had gone up, unfortunately, leaving you with little options; you ended up somewhere shitty, and stayed like that until it started happening again. and the process repeated, until you eventually ended up where you lived now. why didn’t you go to the police? it was complicated — sure, charlie was bothersome and a delusional freak, but he really wasn’t violent. he was the most consistent part of your life the past two-ish years. you also didn’t technically have any proof, and people often ignore cases like this until it was too late. the police just felt like a waste of time. you really should have gone, though.
“uh—“ charlie’s squeaky voice brings you back to reality. what a strange reality you lived in. his stance was stiff and rigid, clearly uncomfortable. and likely from much more than just the rain. “you’re… home early.”
“what are you doing here?” you ask with a pinch between your brows. you already know the answer. well, you had a few guesses, anyways. he’ll spill his guys anyways. he had a bad habit of rambling when he’s caught.
“well, uh— i was just… stopping by. wanted to see if your new place was… safe.” he answers, awkwardly playing with his hands and adding on a fake, airy chuckle to the end of his words. that was another habit of his; downplaying what he was doing to a causal, chill explanation. you clearly don’t look impressed, and he falters. he looks like a kicked puppy. or, a drowned rat — he goes to speak again, but you cut him off.
“how long have you been out here, charlie?” you already feel cold, and you’ve only been in the rain a few moments. he looks like a complete mess. you knew charlie didn’t live lavishly — he didn’t have to tell you. if you couldn’t tell by his barely held together clothes, or the sickly complexion of his skin, you’d at least smell his ungodly odor. maybe him out in the rain was good. like a bath.
his eyes widen at your question. he looks aside for a moment, nervously chuckling. “ahh—“ he waves a dismissive hand; “don’t worry about it.” he says, because he thinks you’re creeped out by the prospect of him hanging around outside your windows. he hates to cut this short, because he really wanted to get to know your new place better, but he supposes it’ll just have to wait for another day. he would have just broken in like he usually did, but with all the rain and mud, he would have left too obvious of a trail. he had started to learn how to be real sneaky early on.
again, you stare at him with an unimpressed expression. he hates when you look at him like that. he misses that cute customer service smile you used to always flash at him. you were one of the only people that made him feel like an actual human being. in a poor attempt to save face, he goes to start again, and you once again cut him off.
“c’mon.” you grumble, nodding towards your apartment door. it’s rainy and cold and maybe it was messing with your judgement, because you’re inviting your stalker inside. he looks surprised, too, but he stumbles out of the bushes and follows you inside. you aren’t 100% sure why you’re inviting him in — he just looked so… pathetic. for some reason, you didn’t like seeing him look like that, and you certainly didn’t like the idea of him walking home in this weather. after all, you practically moved to the other side of the city where you first met him. you wanted to get away from him. and yet, you were letting him inside your home.
charlie clumsily reaches down to take off his beaten up sneakers after he watches you step out of your shoes. the rain outside clearly wasn’t a good enough bath, because now that you were inside with him, you could still smell… him. you try not to cringe, and he seems to not be self aware of his odor. he looks quite happy for a guy that was soaked to the bone. his gaze doesn’t stay on you for long, wandering instead to look around your apartment. it wasn’t very homey yet, as you moved recently, but anything that was yours he loved.
“do you want to take a shower?” you ask after a moment, trying to not be flat out rude, but also desperately needing the man to wash if he was going to stay until the rain passed. plus, you didn’t want him to get sick — maybe you can toss his clothes in the dryer? he perks up at your offer, and you can see the affection in his eyes. you weren’t sure what else to call it. any display of kindness you showed seemed to be just another nail to the coffin.
“really?” could this night get any better? when you tentatively nod, he grins — you lead him to the bathroom, and give him a general guide; letting him know any quirks of the shower, since it wasn’t exactly well kept before you had gotten there. you didn’t have very fancy products, but you got him a wash cloth he could use with the soap and such — there was already a few towels in there, and while you’d debate burning whichever ones he uses after, the premise of him not stinking up your apartment was enough to get by. you leave him to do his business, and you decide to get changed in your room. while you didn’t stay in the rain nearly as long as charlie did, you were still pretty wet. afterwards, you head to the kitchen — when you pass by the bathroom, you hear awful singing.
you remember that you were going to put his clothes in the dryer. right. you hesitate before knocking on the bathroom door — you hear nothing back, and sigh through your nose. of course, he didn’t lock the door, and so you were able to just open it. the shower curtain is thick, so you couldn’t see him, but a loud gasp pulls from him as if he could.
“just getting your clothes — i’m putting them in the dryer,” you say quickly, and grab the mentions items from ontop of the closed toilet lid; he lets out a little *oh, okay, * and you don’t stick around. you close the door behind you, and head over to the corner where you crammed your washing machine and dryer. since it’s only a few items, it shouldn’t take too long. you doubt his shower will be terribly long, either. still, you have time to kill; why not make supper?
you keep it simple, with a classic box mac and cheese, because fuck cooking after work. you take your time as you get plates and such together, before actually grabbing a box to cook up — it’s a few minutes later that you hear the bathroom door open.
coming down the hallway is a slightly wet, but surely cleaner charlie; he walks into the space with one of your towels messily wrapped around his waist. you can see some remaining droplets of water rolling down his abdomen, getting trapped in his poorly maintained happy trail, and —
“you’re cooking?” he sounds much jollier than he usually did. you blink, and quickly meet his gaze. there was no way you were just distracted by charlie — well, you haven’t been with anyone in… awhile, so, surely that explains it!
“y—yeah,” you clear your throat a little; “just mac and cheese. uh… your clothes will be dry soon, i think. sorry about…” you trail off, and gesture to the towel. “that.”
he glances down and chuckles. “nah, can’t complain.” his cheeks are a little flustered. “thanks for letting me shower.”
“no problem…” you almost mumble, bringing your attention back to the mac and cheese. you didn’t want to start ogling him again like a freak. were you really so lonely and starved of male attention that… *charlie * had you feel some type of way?
around when you finish up cooking, the dryer goes off. charlie snags his clothes, and heads to the bathroom to change. you can’t help but eye him as he walks down the hall. you were practically asking to be murdered, weren’t you? you take out two plates, serving food on both and placing them on your dainty kitchen table; charlie shouldn’t take too long, and so you decide to start without him.
“heyyy-yo!” charlie greets as he comes back in, now dressed in, not quite clean, but at least not soaked clothes. you swallow down the food in your mouth, perking up a little — you can’t help but look him over. you never thought charlie was particularly bad looking, only extraordinarily disheveled at all times; he didn’t clean up half bad.
“hi,” you eventually reply, and gesture to the seat in front of you. “i made mac and cheese.”
“holy shit, really?” his eyes light up and he makes his way over with haste. pulling out the chair across from you, he plops down and doesn’t really bother to tuck himself in under the table. he grabs a utensil with an overzealous carelessness, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he ate was from how he starts to eat.
“uh… no one’s gonna take it away from you,” you try to joke, but your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and there’s a pinch between your brows. from this close, you can see his still damp hair start to drip.
charlie looks up at you through his eyelashes and away from the food. an airy, small chuckle falls from his lips. “ah, yeah…” he seems almost self conscious, but he makes little effort to change, aside from straightening up a bit. “i just haven’t had a proper cooked meal in awhile.”
you blink, because your boxed mac and cheese was most certainly not a ‘proper cooked meal.’ you knew a lot of random trivia about charlie, from his early day visits. to keep conversation going, he would unpromptedly share facts about himself. they tended to be drawn out, poorly explained facts, though. you’re beginning to realize that, in the big picture, you don’t know much about his actual life.
“well…” you start again, unsure of what to say. “i’m glad you like it.”
“like it? i love it!” he compliments, taking a generous bite. “you’re a super amazing cook, i mean —“ he swallows; “seriously.”
you try to not notice his poor table manners, because it wasn’t like you were exactly classy yourself. you look down at yourself and your shitty work clothes. with a small, hardly audible sigh, you thank him and continue to eat. dinner carries on; charlie makes various attempts at conversation, and you do your best to keep up with his random thought process. it’s hard to not stare during his tangents — he was, admittedly, passionate. it was endearing, when it really shouldn’t have been.
as the pair of you finish up eating, you can still hear the rain tap against your windows. the realization that you may just be stuck with charlie all night is starting to sink in, and you still have no idea what your plan is. you had let charlie in on a sympathetic, impulsive whim. you didn’t exactly have a spare bedroom in your dingy apartment.
“thanks for the food,” he says, and if you didn’t know anything about his mother, it would seem uncharacteristically polite. you only nod, and awkwardly stand to grab his plate and yours. you can feel his eyes on you as you place them in the sink — you’ll clean those later, you think. you glance over your shoulder, and charlie only smiles. you try your best to offer one back.
“so…” you trail off, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter. he makes no attempt to add on, and can’t help but squint a little.
“wanna watch, like, tv or something?” you suggest, and his eyes widen.
“oh, shit, you got cable?” he grins, and you open your mouth to confirm, but he’s starting again; “yeah, yeah, we should watch tv!” he stands up from your table, and clumsily tucks it back in. you lead him to your living room, and the two of you do your best to get comfortable on your not so impressive couch.
this close, you can smell your shampoo on him. you can only imagine his body smells like your soap. blinking hard, you reach for the remote and flick through channels until you find some romcom that was in decent quality. throughout the movie, charlie makes some unfunny commentary, which you hardly have the energy to even fake laugh at. when the male lead finally works up the courage to kiss the female lead, there’s a sudden silence in the room. out of the corner of your eye, you can feel him staring — again. you glance over, and this time, he’s not smiling. he looks almost dazed.
“… charlie?” you question slowly, squinting and leaning back a little. you’re suddenly very aware of just how close you two are. he isn’t meeting your gaze, though — instead, it looks like he’s looking down at your lips, his own slightly parted. your brows furrow.
“char—” you start again, a little exasperated. he cuts you off, mirroring what he saw on screen moments ago. your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he presses his lips against your own. a vague noise of protest rumbles in your mouth, and he only takes the opportunity to, as best as you can put it, eat your face.
you promptly push him back, your hands planted firmly on his chest. he looks confuses, eyes wide and his brows stitched up and together. there’s a little bit of a rosy hue on his otherwise pale cheeks.
“what the fuck was that?” you ask, but your voice is much softer than you expected it to be. you should be angry — furious, really. you can feel your heart pound against your ribs, and in the dim lighting of the living room, you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks as he tentatively apologizes.
what the fuck were you thinking?! this is the guy who had been harassing you. sure, he argued he was making your life better, always looking out for you — something no other guy has ever really done. the dating scene in the city was six feet under, really. a guy even planning a date was a one in a million chance. your friends insisted guys were just intimidated by you, but the last couple of years had been notably lonely. other than…
something in you was changing, and you wish you could blame it on alcohol. the hands flared out on his chest, move to grip his shirt, and you tug him back in for another kiss. this time, it was his turn to make a sound of surprise, but he settles into the kiss much faster than you did.
the hands holding onto the fabric of his shirt move to the back of his neck, your fingers sliding into his still damp, dark hair. you can feel his hands grip your waist, and there’s an underlying uncertainty in the touch — you can tell he isn’t so sure about what was happening, but he’s kissing you all the same. you’re kissing him. he was most certainly not your ideal hookup candidate, but dick was dick and you were really struggling to remember the last time you got that.
“uh—“ you can feel his nervous chuckle against your lips as you start to climb into his lap. pulling back, you look at him — he looks at you like you put the each and every star in the sky, and you still aren’t entirely sure why.
“is… is this okay?” charlie asks, swallowing thickly. you squint a little, because you don’t want to talk about it. this has to be in your top five worst choices made — sleeping with your stalker? seriously?
so, instead, you just nod and lean back in to kiss him again. he seems more confident this time, practically hugging you closer; he’s surprisingly warm. your lips messily mesh against his — you don’t feel any need to impress him, which was … actually pretty nice. if anything, he should be trying to impress you!
he does — as you grind down against his crotch mid-makeout, he wraps an arm under you and flips the both of you. the kiss breaks as you lay back, eyes widening. he leans over you, your legs hooked over his hips. if the lighting was better, you’d see how blown out his pupils were.
charlie presses his lips against yours again, but it’s more like a peck. his lips wander, and he kisses along your cheek in haste as he shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall down besides the couch. you cringe a little as he sucks at the edge of your jaw, a little too close to your ear lobe. you can feel yourself start to grow wet nonetheless. a hefty sigh pushes through your nose at the feeling.
none the wiser, charlie mistakes your sigh for a sound of pleasure and smiles to himself. he can’t even remember the amount of times he’s jacked off to this idea — let alone to the lingering scent you left on your pillows when you weren’t around, the panties you left in your laundry bin, your used washcloth from the shower you had that morning — his pants feel awfully tight now.
“you…” he starts again, his voice a little breathy. “you — you do want this, right?” he asks, an excited undertone to his words. the hands on your waist inch down to the edge of your shirt, and you know he wants to take it off. so, you do it for him — you sit up a little, peel your shirt off, and let it fall by his jacket.
“yeah…” you practically mumble, and you aren’t sure if he’s really listening. he seems to have no shame as he stares at your bra-covered chest. you can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “hello?”
“oh, oh— yeah, yeah. yes?” he shakes his head, gaze flickering between your face and your breasts. his tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip, and you bite yours.
you feel his hands reach behind you, and they unclasp your bra. he doesn’t struggle with it as much as you’d expect. well, if you consider all the locks of yours he’s picked, maybe it makes a little more sense. he drops it to the growing pile of clothes.
he leans back on his knees as he looks down. “wow—“ you almost miss it with how quietly he mumbles, and his hands come to cup your breasts.
“hey—“ you distract him, and he looks at you. your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt. “come on.”
“oh, right, right. sorry,” he chuckles, reluctantly removing his hands from your chest to tug his shirt up and over his head. he smiles down at you, and you really notice his crows feet. he presses a kiss to your lips again, and then to your chin; the kisses are quick to trail down your neck, and then the valley between your breasts.
“i’ve waited so long for this—“ he confesses against your skin, as if you don’t know. you inhale softly as his lips stop at the top of your pants. he looks up at you through his lashes; “can i…?”
you nod, and he leans back on his knees. he unbuttons the button of your pants, and unzips them. tugging them down with an underlying desperation, he stares intently at your underwear while he tosses your pants aside. you feel almost insecure at his staring, but before you can comment, he moves.
charlie lowers himself, lower and lower, until he’s face to face with your clothed cunt. his nose, probably unknowingly, presses against your clit and he takes an excessively long inhale.
“charlie.*” you cringe, your hips involuntarily arching in an attempts to get away from his bizarrely embarrassing interest. he pulls back, looking up at you.
“sorry,” he says with a loose smile, and you can tell he doesn’t really know what it was he was even apologizing for. he leans back up to sit on his knees again, his fingers coming under your underwear to tug them down your leg. he shoves them in the back pocket of his pants, and starts to get his barely held together, worn jeans off. he’s a little clumsy, as he tries not to disturb your legs hanging on his hips, but you’re considerate enough to lift them while he shoves his pants down. his boxers look… well, they look. if you weren’t so focused on the tent in them, maybe you’d be a bit more concerned with the state of his underwear.
“so…” he swallows hard, and a hand combs through his slowly drying hair; he feels a little sweat building up in his hairline, and he hasn’t even put it in yet…!! sometimes, he wishes he was even half as ‘smooth’ or… what was that other word? sw-ouve? suave? as dennis… maybe he’ll have to get in his apartment and re-watch some of his sex tapes… but, the angle of them was so…
“i’m, uh, i’m good.” you say, noticing what looks to be charlie spacing out right before having sex with you. you try to not take offence. after all, you’re quite literally positive that he has even less luck in the love department than you.
“oh—“ charlie blinks hard, “yeah? yeah, okay, good. that’s good.” it feels like his heart was gonna jump out of his throat as he tugs his boxers down, but is too lazy to take them off all the way; his cock falls out, erect and already leaking pre-cum. you can’t help but stare at the hairy mess of his crotch.
charlie is staring at yours, too, but for different reasons. he’s looking at your little hole, biting his bottom lip — he really has waited so long for this. the gang was never going to believe this. maybe, after this… you guys can… hang out a little. you know… date!* and you can tell them yourself!! the thought makes his dick twitch. he grasps his length, and angles it so that it presses against your drooling cunt. you feel a spark of arousal zap you at the feeling of his tip against you, but you don’t get to really appreciate the feeling for long before he’s pushing inside you.
a little noise of discomfort hums in your mouth, your lips pressing together firmly; it wasn’t like a terrible rip inside you, but, you usually preferred a little more… prep? charlie stops half way in, looking up at you with wide eyes.
“are you okay?” he asks, voice breathy. you wave a dismissive hand, nodding.
“yeah, yeah— you’re fine, don’t worry,” you assure, and once the initial stretch settles, you finally feel full. even if you masturbated, your fingers couldn’t truly emulate the feeling of an actual cock inside of you. your face heats up as charlie pushes himself the rest of the way inside, and you can hear him let out a little groan.
there’s a pause, assumably to let the both of your adjust for a moment, before charlie is dragging his length against your velvety walls. he doesn’t pull all the way out, leaving most of his tip in before pushing back in; he works up a rhythm, even though it’s a little uncoordinated. he’s panting softly on top of you, and you struggle to hold back soft sounds of pleasure. he catches them, and his hands move from your hips to your hands — he intertwines your fingers, and your eyes widen. he leans over you, and you can’t help but squeeze his hands. he smiles at you, and squeezes back.
this pace lasts for about 30 seconds before his hips buck forward with more passion. he groans, and you can’t help the way your cunt tightens around him; a whine settles in his throat, and he feels too caught up in the feeling of your warm walls around him to realize he should back off before he —
you suddenly feel a thick, gooey substance inside you and your eyes widen. your back arches, and you feel grossly turned on — you just wish it didn’t end… so fast? you open your mouth to say something, but charlie is just as quick to apologize.
“sorry, sorry—“ his voice is even more pitchy than usual, and his hands grip yours like his life depended on it while his hips stay nestled against yours. he seems to struggle every time your walls contract around him. you kind of wished he pulled out, but… oh well? he will in a second, anyways.
to your surprise, he takes in a shaky breath before slowly starting again. a pinch forms between your brows, and a quiet moan gets caught up in your throat. you can hear a light squelching sound from between your legs, and your face burns. you feel hot and a little sweaty, and he looks… well, much worse. you’re surprised he’s even still hard, but… you know he tends to get hard around you most of the time. still, this must have been awfully overstimulating for the guy? the thought that he just wanted to fuck you so bad that he’d continue to, orgasm after orgasm…
one of your hands wiggle out of his grip and snake down your body. your fingers find your clit, and you softly rub it; your tummy tightens and so does your cunt. charlie whimpers on top of you, and he breathes out an i love you. you’re too focused on chasing your own high to fully process his words.
his thrusts start to smooth out a little, rolling his pelvis into yours — there’s still an obvious uncertainty to them, but your fingers speed up against your clit all the same. you pant, and the two of you make eye contact. his cheeks are flared, his lips are red from biting and kissing, his pupils were blown out; in the shitty lighting of your apartment, he looks so good like this. he feels so good inside of you. you can physically feel your distaste for the man melting away each time his cockhead plunges against that spot inside you.
an actual moan escapes you, and he refocuses. he leans does to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, while trying to hit that same spot inside you again. you can hardly kiss him back, jaw slacking — your fingers move furiously against your little button, and your legs cross behind him, desperate to feel him against you. the feeling begins to overwhelm you, and your tummy flips.
it isn’t much longer before that knot inside you snaps, and you cum around him. the pleasure washes through you, and your swear your foot just twitched. the hand that was messing with your clit comes up to push in the hair at the nape of his neck, gripping the strands there; charlie’s hips buck against you at the feeling, and he moans and whimpers into the kiss. he cums for the second time tonight with a whine, and he slows to a stop inside of you.
a few moments pass before he reluctantly pulls back. you look so beautiful like this — under him, panting softly, with parted lips and a notable slump. he had thought about this moment so many nights with his dick between his hand, and none of those scenarios ever compared to this.
charlie pulls his cock out of you, and some of his cum dribbles out of you. he doesn’t really notice, although you feel it. you let go of the hand that still held yours, and you almost cringe at how sweaty it feels.
“… hi,” he practically whispers with a little chuckle — reality was really starting to hit him now, and he can’t help but feel giddy. it makes your heart flutter.
“hi…” the hand at the back of his head comes forward, brushing his hair out of his face. you feel tired and a little spent. reality was hitting you, too, but you feel more weirded out than happy. charlie takes your hand and presses a playful kiss to it, and you realize that you’ve really made a mess of things.
“do you wanna… go to bed?” he suggests, his mind wandering. he imagines himself abandoning frank and coming to live with you. maybe he was just feeling romantic and impulsive, but he thinks he’d probably abandon everything for a chance to be with you.
“i think…” you slowly pull your hand away from him, and start to sit up. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”
“oh,” is all he says for a moment, but then he grins. “i’ll see you in bed, then?”
“uh, sure.” you nod, and you can still hear the rain outside. he nods too, and his grin stretches so wide it hurts his cheeks. he gathers up his clothes, putting his boxers back on and starts to head down the hall to your room. you watch him, and your mind wanders, too. you aren’t sure how you can ever hope to even possibly get rid of him, now.
