Chapter Text
The sharp sound of a phone alarm pierces the bubble of sleep that had surrounded Charles, and he blinks in displeasure. Still half asleep, he instinctively reaches out towards the warm body next to his and only settles back against the pillows again as he feels an arm wrap around his chest just a split second after the alarm is blessedly shut off.
Sighing in relief, he strokes his hand idly across the arm, feeling the familiar, soft hairs and warm skin there as a gentle kiss is pressed to the back of his neck.
“Good morning, mi amor”, he hears Carlos’ voice, still rough from sleep, whisper quietly against his skin and he hums to signal that he’d heard him, settling deeper into the embrace and taking a second to breathe in the sleepy remnants of Carlos’ cologne before replying.
“Twenty minutes?”, he asks sleepily and feels Carlos press a kiss to his shoulder blade.
“Nineteen now”, Carlos mumbles in reply, his voice muffled against his skin, and Charles sighs before turning around in the embrace, pressing his face into the small space between Carlos’ neck and the pillows, the other man shifting to accommodate him.
Reaching up he strokes his hand across Carlos’ jaw, scratching lightly at the stubble that had grown out overnight, and smiling as he hears Carlos sigh in pleasure. Closing his eyes, he lets himself slip back into the half-way point between consciousness and sleep, growing less and less aware of his own hand’s movement as he feels the warmth from Carlos’ body seep into his own bones.
God, the things he’d be willing to do to be able to stay here for the rest of the day.
A second alarm sounds and Charles startles slightly, his hand twitching against Carlos’ face, but the other man barely seems to notice, he was rarely startled by any of Charles’ movements anymore, instead he only lifts his arm to blindly shut the alarm off before laying it back around Charles’ body.
“Ten”, he says and Charles nods, blinking slowly and trying to force himself to keep his eyes open.
It had been Carlos’ idea to set their alarm twenty minutes early each morning to give them time to cuddle before work, after they for the fourth time in a week had had to rush out of the apartment half-dressed, chugging down a shot of espresso as they went, after being unable to force themselves out of bed.
“We can’t keep doing this”, Carlos had said once they’d made it into the elevator as Charles struggled to straighten out his tie for him.
“Yeah, you’re right”, Charles answered, feeling his stomach drop at his words, already dreading what he thought would be the suggestion that they started sleeping separately on weeknights. He finished with the tie and tapped Carlos’ shoulder to signal that he was done.
“Thank you, mi amor”, Carlos muttered and leaned in to press a kiss to the side of his jaw, before turning to towards the mirror at the back wall. Charles smiled and watched the side of his face as he adjusted its placement, bracing himself as he finished and turned back to face him, “maybe we can set the alarm a little earlier?”, he asked, and Charles’ brow furrowed in confusion.
“Hm?”, he asked, taken aback. The elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open to reveal the lobby of Carlos’ apartment building.
“We could set the alarm a bit earlier, so we have some time to spare”, Carlos answered distractedly as he turned around to exit the elevator, not seeming to pick up on Charles’ surprise, “like twenty minutes or something like that”, he suggested over his shoulder as Charles exited after him.
They made it halfway through the lobby before Charles managed to answer and Carlos stopped him with a gentle hand to his elbow.
“-or do you not like that idea?”, he asked seriously, no insecurity evident in his voice. Carlos was never nervous to ask Charles about things pertaining to their relationship, of how he felt about something or what he wanted. Charles tried to emulate him as best he could, but sometimes found himself a feeling a little shy about his feelings.
“No, no”, he answered instantly, shaking his head to clear it of the surprise from earlier, “that’s a great idea”, Carlos smiled at him and Charles leaned in to peck his lips, “I was just a little surprised, I- “, he hesitated for split second, “I almost thought you were going to say that you wanted us to sleep separately”, Carlos scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard in his life and started walking towards the exit again
“-sleep separately”, he imitated him with a shake of his head, “I’d sooner quit my job”, Charles chuckled and let Carlos drape and arm around his shoulders to pull him closer, “How would you survive that, mi amor, you’d freeze to death”, Charles rolled his eyes but still accepted the kiss that was pressed to his lips.
“Shut up”, he grumbled.
A third alarm sounds, startling Charles out of his half-slumber and he groans quietly into Carlos’ neck, before rolling backwards and away from him and sitting up on the bed, his first fully conscious thought of the day being that it was too fucking early.
Rubbing at his eyes, he feels the mattress moving as Carlos gets up and he looks up in time to see the full length of his naked body as he stands up from the bed, the view bringing a smug smile to his face even in his tired state. How many people dreamed of waking up with someone like Carlos?
“I’m going to take a shower”, Carlos announces, turning towards him and Charles nods, dragging his eyes slowly up to his face, smiling coyly as Carlos shakes his head at him, “do you want to join me?”, he places a hand on the headboard to support himself before leaning over him, Charles instinctively reaches up to cup his face in his hands as Carlos pecks him on the lips.
“Mm”, he hums into the kiss, before regretfully pulling away, “I’d love to, but I have that padel game today at 8, so I’ll just shower after”, Carlos nods and mutters a small “okay”, before pecking him again and straightening back up.
Charles watches his retreating back and stifles a yawn, stretching his arms over his head as Carlos disappears into the ensuite bathroom, before slipping out of bed, the sound of the shower turning on drifting in from the still open door.
He makes quick work of getting dressed, pulling out items blindly from what had slowly grown to become his shelves of the closet, both the shorts and the t shirt folded neatly, which signaled that it was Carlos who had cleaned them. He never took as much care as him when doing his laundry, always in a rush to finish and not particularly interested in how the inside of his closet looked either, as opposed to Carlos, who preferred everything to be perfect.
There was never any room for error with Carlos, everything was neat and in order, but Charles couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed by these perfectionist tendencies. Instead, he was only endeared by it, and even now, as he pulled the clothing hastily out of the closet, the sight of them brought a ghost of a smile to his face. So sweet.
The kitchen was still dark as he entered, the only source of light being the city lights shining in from outside, it was still too early for the sun to have risen.
Carlos enters the kitchen again as Charles has just finished making a second cup of espresso, which he adds to a larger mug and then fills with steamed milk as he feels a big, warm hand drape around his hips.
“You’re wearing shorts”, Carlos says against the side of his face, a stray strand of his hair, still damp from the shower tickling Charles as he presses a kiss against his cheekbone before pulling away. Charles bites back a satisfied grin, he knew he would comment on it.
Carlos loved it when he wore shorts. Loved it. It drove him mad, and these shorts were a particular favorite of his. He had never said so outright, but Charles knew they were. He’d carried the bruised hips and hickeys that proved it, which was why he wore them as often as he could.
“I am”, he answers evenly, not wanting to reveal his satisfaction, turning around with the milk-less espresso, and holding it out for Carlos to take, raising his eyebrows at him as he doesn’t do so immediately.
Carlos eyes him again, a long, sweeping stare that makes Charles’ heart flutter and brings an involuntary rush of heat to his cheeks, “Carlos”, he prompts him, and Carlos finally reaches out to take the cup from him, still just looking at him as if completely dumbstruck.
Turning around, he grabs his own cup, biting back a smile as he leans slightly forwards to reach it, although it wasn’t strictly necessary.
“Who are you playing with again?”, Carlos asks as he’s turned back around and the corners of Charles’ mouth quiver with amusement. He shrugs.
“Some potential clients, Vettel set it up”, he says and Carlos nods, his lips pursed in thought, “why?”, Carlos shrugs.
“You’ll probably sign them”, he says with a nod of his head, smug smile playing on his lips, “looking like that”.
“Like what?”, Charles asks innocently, and Carlos rolls his eyes at him, setting down his coffee on the counter before reaching out for him, grabbing onto his hip to pull him flush against him, hand sliding down to take a hold of his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Charles finally drops the innocence act and lets an amused smile spread across his face.
“They’ll be too busy staring at your ass to pay attention to how expensive you are”.
“Mm”, he hums in amusement, reaching up to stroke across Carlos’ biceps, which were bulging through the white fabric of his shirt, “don’t be too sure about that, it’s more likely than not that they’re straight men”.
Carlos shrugs, “Doesn’t matter”, he says, “you’re too pretty for even them to resist”, he gives his ass another squeeze, “this ass, that face”, he whistles, “you’re a walking sexuality crisis”, Charles rolls his eyes, but blushes all the while.
“Don’t be such a flirt”, he says in mock annoyance, but feels a smile spreading across his face as Carlos leans in towards him.
“You like it”, Carlos says cockily, a smirk spreading across his face.
“I don’t”, Charles answers with a shake of his head, straining his neck backwards away from Carlos as he leans in towards him, the smirk on his face growing at Charles’ protests.
“You do, I know you do”, Carlos finally reaches him and peppers kisses along his jaw, making Charles squirm.
“Carlos”, he breathes out in exasperation, his accent slipping under Carlos’ ministrations and the r in Carlos’ name almost completely disappearing, making it sound more like Cah-los, Carlos smiles and lets up, leaning back from him again, but keeping his arms wrapped around his hips.
Charles sighs and sends him a look, “you’ll give me beard burn”.
“-you mean more beard burn”, Carlos says and nods downwards, causing Charles to roll his eyes again, before slipping away from his grip to down the rest of his coffee.
“I have to go”, he says as he sets his now empty cup back down on the counter, before turning back to Carlos for a parting kiss.
“Ten seconds?”, Carlos asks and Charles smiles as he wraps an arm around his neck to bring him closer to him.
“Time it”, he replies amusedly before pressing his lips to his, the kiss soft and languid, “have a good day”, he says against his lips as he pulls away again and Carlos smiles in reply, pecking him again before letting him go.
Charles grabs his bag off the counter and shoves his phone into it as he walks towards the hallway, where he pulls on his shoes and a jacket.
“See you tonight”, Carlos calls after him, and Charles turns to send a parting smile his way, memorizing the sight of him leaned against the kitchen island as he does. Carlos winks at him and Charles giggles softly as he turns back around, feeling something warm tug deep within his gut as he goes.
The feeling of being in love was still a little strange to him, even after almost a year. It was like a never-ending source of warmth at the pit of his stomach that made him feel safe, secure. It grounded him, and although he hadn’t noticed the absence of it before, thinking back on it, he could feel the void of it within himself.
His life had felt fleeting in a way, there had been a rootlessness to it, whereas now it felt more stable, and he felt steadier in not only himself, but his work and his relationship with his friends and family.
He’d always been prone to overworking himself, relentless in the pursuit of his goals, and although this had largely been driven by genuine ambition and strive, there had also been an edge of desperation to it.
Failing hadn’t been an option, not being the best hadn’t been an option, and he’d believed that with all his heart. Instilled it in himself to deeply that even the smallest mishap at work, the tiniest inkling of critique could make him spiral to the point that he’d spend weeks pulling close to eighteen-hour days in an effort to prove to himself, and others, that he was worthy of his position and opportunities.
Some of this desperation hadn’t been completely unfounded either, there was no golden parachute to catch him if he were to lose his job. His rent and his expenses would come due either way and there was no one else he could rely on to help pay them were he to not be able to do so himself.
But even beyond the financial aspect of things, Carlos provided a different sort of safety, because his love wasn’t conditional. Charles knew that he could lose a trial, do horrible at a meeting with a client, gain fifty pounds and even lose his job and it wouldn’t change Carlos’ feelings for him.
And Charles hadn’t had that for a long time, not since he was a child still living at home with his family, and certainly not from a romantic partner. To have someone care for him, not because of his achievements or his looks, to have someone want him, not just in a sexual way or because it made them look better, it felt better than he’d ever dared imagine it to do.
Still, this safety came at a cost, of course, because the sort of closeness it brought with it left no room for hiding, no room for upholding any sort of façade.
In the beginning, Charles had tried to maintain some sort of distance between himself and Carlos, establishing certain rules for himself in order to create some boundaries he could hide behind.
He never stayed at Carlos’ apartment for longer than two days at a time before going home for a night, he didn’t take showers there (apart from the ones they took together), he didn’t bring his work there and he kept himself as pristine as he could, hygiene-and looks-wise, anytime they were together.
And these rules had worked, in some ways. Apart from the fact that they made him miserable anytime he forced himself to uphold them and caused Carlos to, justifiably, question him when he noticed, they served their intended purpose.
He got to be with Carlos, sleep in his bed and talk until he could barely keep his eyes open. Eat homecooked meals at his kitchen table and have sex for hours on end. Kiss, and laugh, and joke around, while still being able to maintain some level of mystery surrounding himself, some aura of attractiveness.
Carlos didn’t seem to follow any of the same rules, of course, always unabashed in the intimacy he showed Charles; walking around naked, speaking to him about his childhood, kissing him and telling him that he loved him as they woke up, completely uncaring of the fact that he hadn’t brushed his teeth and that his face was still mussed up from being pressed into the pillow for so long.
And although none of these things made Charles any less attracted to him, if anything it made him fall harder than he’d had before, he was still utterly convinced that were Carlos to see these parts of him, the messy and unkempt parts, he would lose any and all attraction he had for him.
Carlos’ love for the tidy version of himself made sense to him.
When he was clean and awake and smart and funny, it wasn’t hard for him to understand that Carlos liked him. He was attractive, he knew that, sexy and good in bed. He was intelligent and interesting to talk to and charming when he wanted and had the energy to.
Of course, Carlos was in love with cool and suave, big-shot lawyer Charles, Il predestinato, can make you come in two minutes, Leclerc. Of course he was.
But just rolled out of bed, stressed about work, untrimmed stubble and too exhausted to do more than accept a kiss to the forehead-Charles, now that was something else. What was there to love, or let alone like about him?
And so, as an unconscious preemptive measure, the rules had slowly been established, and for the first few weeks they’d worked as well. Still, the project had come to a screeching halt as Charles, about a month into the relationship had gotten a terrible case of food poising after they’d gone out to eat.
He hadn’t noticed it at first, kissing Carlos on the mouth as he paid the bill and already longing to have his brains absolutely fucked out of him, but in the uber ride home, the first waves of gentle nausea had started to hit him.
“I’m actually feeling a little tired”, Charles said in half-explanation to the questioning look Carlos send him as they’re stood in the hallway and he, very uncharacteristically after a glass of wine, hadn’t already jumped his bones.
“Okay”, Carlos said easily, his hand already finding its way to Charles’ waist, “do you want to watch a movie?”
Charles had wanted to watch a movie, but the rolling pressure in his stomach made him slowly shake his head instead.
“I actually think I’m just going to go to bed”, he said slowly, “I’m not feeling too great”.
Carlos’ brows knit together in slight worry and Charles wanted to reach out to even them out again.
“Okay, mi amor, I’ll bring you some water”, a kiss was pressed to his cheek and then another one to his forehead, and then he was walking into Carlos’ bedroom and undressing. He was half-asleep by the time he heard a glass be placed down on the bedside table and felt the gentle touch of fingers stroking across his cheek.
Still, his slumber was quickly interrupted as he just a few hours later woke up with a start, barely managing to make it into Carlos’ ensuite bathroom before he was puking his guts out into the toilet.
“You’re okay”, Charles startled slightly at the sudden touch of a hand against his back, but it felt good, and being too busy heaving up the entire contents of his stomach, he let himself lean into it, “You’re okay, just get it out”.
It was only as he’d started dry-heaving and slowly pulled away to lean his forehead against the edge of the toilet that he’d grown more aware of Carlos’ warm touch against his cold and clammy skin and felt a wave of mortification.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. “Do you feel better, mi amor?” “No”.
The toilet was flushed as Charles sunk onto the floor, closing his eyes against the second wave of nausea rolling through him. He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut to will the sensation away.
“Drink some water, honey” “I can’t” “Just a little bit, it’ll just get worse if you get too dehydrated.”
Charles drank the offered water, feeling horrendous all the while and quickly having to lean forwards to puke it all up again. Carlos sat next to him and stroked his back.
“You don’t have to stay here, it’s not- “ “I’ll get you a blanket”.
Carlos came back in pajama pants and a soft-looking t shirt, carrying a blanket that he draped over Charles’ where he’d curled in on himself on the floor.
He’d spent the entire night on the bathroom floor, shivering in cold sweats underneath the blanket Carlos had brought him, only paused as he sat up to heave across the toilet. And through every round Carlos remained at his side, warm hand at his back and then later stroking the hair back from his forehead as he laid on the floor shivering with nausea and discomfort.
It felt like one of the longest nights of his life, but at some point he finally passed out completely and woke up to daylight streaming into the bathroom and his body feeling just about well enough to manage to scrape his way back to his own apartment, which was what he was about to do, half-way to digging up his phone, when Carlos walked into the bedroom.
“I’ve made you some tea, mi amor, it’s on the counter for you- “, he was distracted as he talked, his arms preoccupied with the pile of laundry he was carrying.
“Thank you”, Charles answered weakly, “but I’m going to order an uber and- “.
“Sure, just give me a second to get things together, and don’t worry about the uber, I can drive us- “, he placed the pile down on the bed and turned as if in search of something.
“No, no, it’s fine, you don’t have to, I’ll just get the uber, I don’t want you to have to go all the way back and forth”, Carlos paused and looked at him.
“I’m not letting you go home alone, are you joking?”, he shook his head at him as if he was half-amused, although there was a clear seriousness to his tone. Charles sat down on the bed, letting his head fall into his hands.
“Carlos-“, I don’t want you to see me like this, how are you ever going to find me attractive again when you’ve seen me puke my guts out?
“No, Charles, you’re sick, so I get it if you want to be at home, but I’m not going to let you be alone, so you can decide if you want us to be here or at your apartment. Either way, I’m staying with you”,
But will you though?
They looked at each other for several beats, but too tired to think of anything else, Charles slowly nodded, before letting himself tip over onto his side on the bed, his phone falling from hand on back onto the mattress.
“I’ll stay here”, he said quietly, already pressing his face into the soft pillow at his head to combat the sudden roll of nausea. -until you won’t want me anymore.
And after having emptied the contents of his stomach in front of Carlos and laid writhing with cold sweats in his bed, his earlier notions felt a little silly to Charles, and so he let them go, and in the wake of doing so found that he was falling harder than he ever had before.
A feeling that appeared to be shared by Carlos, although he never said so explicitly, and in the beginning of June, he’d turned to him, eyes glistening in the soft morning light.
“Do you have any plans for the summer”, there had been a strange tilt to Carlos’ voice, a hesitative tone, and as Charles paused to think, he saw his edams apple bop as he swallowed.
“No, not really”, he answered, leaning closer to Carlos, and letting their hands meet on top of the kitchen counter. Carlos’ skin felt warm against his, “I usually just work through the summer”, he shrugged as Carlos nodded slowly.
“I was thinking of taking some time off, my family has a house in Mallorca, if you’d want to- “, he trailed off and Charles felt a stupid, loopy grin spread across his face.
“Yes”, he said, and Carlos grinned at him, the smile growing slowly over his face until it’d practically cracked it in two.
“Yes?”
“Yes”.
They took three weeks off, longer than Charles ever had since he’d started at the firm, spending one of them in Carlos’ family’s vacation home in Mallorca, and the other two in the city.
Carlos’ family had been vacationing elsewhere, and so they’d had the whole house to themselves, spending every single day lounging under the searingly hot Spanish sun, until Carlos’ skin was a deep, golden brown and neither could manage to keep their hands off of each other for longer than a few minutes at a time.
Fresh fruit for breakfast, skin salty and sticky from swimming in the ocean, a flush of sunburn across Charles’ nose.
Once back in the city Charles didn’t see the inside of his own apartment for the entire two weeks they had off. Going straight to Carlos’ apartment from the airport, he had planned to go back to his own place to do his laundry and get things in order, but instead he found himself half-moving into Carlos’ apartment, unable to finally take the step and leave.
They started every day eating long breakfasts at Carlos’ kitchen table, drinking coffee, and solving crosswords puzzles.
They took long walks through Central Park, Carlos’ arm around his shoulder and their finger’s intertwined. They shared ice-cream cones and traded vanilla-flavored kisses in the sweet July sunshine.
Carlos took him to his favorite art galleries, whispering facts about the different paintings into his ear as he led him around, hand low on his back and Charles, who’d never cared much for art galleries, found himself not wanting the night to end.
They had sex in every single room in Carlos’ apartment, on every available surface. Kitchen counter, couch, hallway table, guest bed, bathroom sink, dining chairs. No piece of furniture was spared.
As the last Sunday rolled around, they spent twenty minutes kissing goodbye in the hallway, neither seeming to have the strength to finally break apart, and arguing between the incessant pressing of lips who would miss the other more, a point that was rendered completely moot as Charles finally made it back home and spent a grand total of ten minutes there before calling Carlos.
“My office is actually closer to your apartment”.
“That’s true”
“So, actually- “, “-it’s much more practical if- “
Carlos had been waiting for him in the doorway as he exited the elevator, as if he’d been too anxious to see him again to wait inside. Even after three weeks together without a minute reprieve. Charles felt the same way.
They kissed in the hallway, clothes half off by the time they stumbled into the kitchen and Charles pulled away to look at Carlos’ face for a second, his pretty eyes.
“I think you’re the love of my life”, he whispered, and Carlos smiled almost cockily, stroking his thumb over Charles’ tender bottom lip.
“You’re the love of mine”.
And there wasn’t really any way to come back from that sort of confession, no way to retract or distance himself. It was everything, Carlos was everything, and so Charles gave him everything.
He’d barely spent ten nights at his own apartment since then, and slowly his things had started migrating over. His clothes had been the first to go, along with his soaps and creams, and then as the months passed his other keepsakes had made their way over as well.
His books were in Carlos’ bookshelf, his graduation diploma was displayed in his home office, his pictures of his family were hung up next to the one’s of Carlos’; his brothers next to his sisters, Pierre and him as children next to Carlos with Lando on one of their golfing trips, his father and him front and center on the bookshelf next to the tv, so there was never a day where he didn’t see him.
“I thought he could have his own place”, Carlos had whispered quietly into his ear as Charles had paused in front of it, the presence of his body warm and safe against his back.
He’d only brought the box of pictures over the night before, leaving them in the hallway to be hung up later, but Carlos had finished the job while he was still at work.
Charles felt his throat tightening as he looked up at the picture, his father’s smiling face, his happy eyes, and tearing his gaze away from it again he turned around and pressed his face into Carlos’ neck.
“I love you”, he said quietly, his mouth against the tender skin of Carlos’ throat and Carlos stroked his back up and down, his whole body enveloped in his arms.
“I love you”, Carlos answered securely, and everything inside Charles felt warm and right.
Despite this he hadn’t actually fully moved in yet, not official, and he hadn’t stopped paying rent on his own apartment. It was a complete waste, of course, he never slept there, nor did he spend any time there, and yet he couldn’t seem to bring himself to take the last step.
He also still referred to it as Carlos’ apartment, despite Carlos having started calling it their apartment months ago. It was still Carlos’ apartment, Carlos’ kitchen table, Carlos’ couch, the only thing he had taken full ownership over was the bed in the bedroom, that was his.
The bed was also the only piece of furniture he’d insisted Carlos change out, having gotten a terrible hangup on it a few weeks after the summer vacation, the thought that Carlos had slept with other people there gnawing at his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore and had to announce that they needed to buy a new bed.
Carlos hadn’t argued and readily agreed, sliding his credit card across the table for him to use, which Charles hadn’t, of course, he’d bought the bed himself and it was his bed.
If they had a fight or Carlos annoyed him, he was quick to announce that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere near his bed that night. This was an empty threat, of course, and Carlos knew that as well.
Charles hated sleeping alone, and the one time he’d actually made Carlos sleep in the guest room, he’d only made it a couple of hours of tossing and turning before he’d picked up his pillow and gone over to join him there.
So, things were good between them. Very, very good, great even. Charles slept at Carlos’ apartment that was also his apartment and he woke up every day feeling stupidly lucky and grateful that Carlos was his boyfriend.
They talked about anything and everything, they kissed, and they laughed, and they had amazing sex practically every night. They fought, occasionally, and Charles got jealous when girls hit on Carlos at the bar, and annoyed because Carlos never seemed to be jealous when someone hit on him, but then they had even better sex to patch things up and things were good.
Things were better than Charles had ever thought being in a relationship could be. As a result, he was happy; stupidly, completely, perfectly, incandescently happy.
And absolutely, desperately terrified that it was going to end.
It was already dark again as Charles finally made it back to Carlos’ apartment and having spent most of his day longing for it, he’s already pulling his tie off as he closes the front behind him.
“I’m home”, he calls out half-questioningly, as he unties his shoes, not sure if Carlos had made it home yet.
“In here”, comes the muffled reply and Charles feels an unconscious smile spread across his face at the sound. Home.
Charles drops his stuff on the floor and rounds the corner from the hallway, biting in a sigh of relief as he spots Carlos by the kitchen counter, his eyes looking up from the papers scattered there as he enters.
“Hello, mi amor”, he says smoothly, straightening up and making room for Charles to wrap his arms around his waist, smiling at him as he does. Charles tips his head backwards in request of being kissed and is instantly rewarded, “good day?”
Charles hums and kisses him again before answering, “better now”. He had in fact not had a good day at all, but that could wait for a little bit. Carlos chuckles and pecks him again before leaning slightly backwards, “have you been home long?”, Charles asks softly, head still tilted slightly backwards.
“About an hour, took some work with me to finish here”, Carlos answers and Charles nods.
“Have you showered yet?”
“Yes, just got out”.
Charles pouts slightly, “want to take another one, I’ll make it very much worth your while”, he winks to the best of his abilities and Carlos chuckles at the sight, making warm butterflies erupt in Charles’ stomach.
“I’d love to, but I don’t think we have time before everyone gets here”, Carlos answers and Charles’ brows furrow in confusion.
“Everyone?”
“Yeah, they get here at eight”, Carlos says in explanation, only continuing as he sees the growing confusion on Charles’ face, “Lewis and his new girlfriend, we have the dinner with them tonight”. Oh fuck, the couples’ dinner.
“Shit, I’d forgotten all about it”, Charles says, “I’m so sorry, I must’ve forgotten to let Mary know to add it to my calendar, there wasn’t anything I was supposed to pick up was there”, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.
“No, no, it’s nothing special, I picked up the groceries on my way home, so you can just go shower and I’ll get everything ready”, Carlos says with a small shake of his head and a small, genuine smile. Charles feels even worse.
“I’m so sorry”, he says again, and Carlos tightens his grip around him, pressing another kiss to his lips and smiling at him in the way that made Charles’ insides feel like warm mush.
“You don’t have to be sorry, mi amor, everyone forgets things sometimes”, Charles bites down on the inside of his cheeks. You don’t, you never do.
“What was her name again?”
“Cornelia”, Charles nods and mutters a small ‘okay’, “by the way, Lando’s coming too”, Carlos says, and Charles has to forcibly control every muscle in his face to keep it neutral.
“Oh, yeah, I thought it was supposed to be just Lewis and his girlfriend”, he looks at Carlos’ chest and wishes he could lay his cheek against it and just breathe for a few seconds.
“It was, but him and Chloe are on the outs again and he asked if he could come so he wouldn’t have to be alone”, Carlos explains and Charles nods, forcing himself to drop his hands away from Carlos and step back, leaning up against the opposite counter.
“Are they ever actually on the ins?”, Charles asks sarcastically and Carlos snorts, shrugging his shoulders as he does.
“I don’t even know”, he answers and Charles nods again, “but he’s coming”, another nod.
“Sucks to be the only single guy at a couples’ dinner though”
“Guess he thinks it’s better than being alone”. Charles thinks that if he were fighting with his friends-with-benefits, situationship, occasionally girlfriend, the last place on earth he’d want to be was at a couple’s dinner with his friends and their partners, but then again, him and Lando weren’t all that similar.
“I told him to be nice”, Carlos says next, and Charles looks up at him.
“You don’t have to do that”, he answers honestly, and Carlos sends him a look, “you don’t, I mean it”, leaning in again, Charles presses another kiss to Carlos’ lips before pushing away again, “I’ll go shower”.
Once inside the bathroom, Charles takes a second in front of the bathroom mirror to breathe.
He’d had a long day at work, things not working out the way he wanted to, his associate fucking up the prep work for a case and making him look bad in front of Vettel, it’d all been a lot, and all he’d thought about since lunch was coming home and curling into Carlos’ chest.
Swallowing down the disappointment over the fact that he wouldn’t get to do that was one thing, knowing he would instead have to spend it with Lando was another.
Because Lando did not like him, at all.
A point which he had made abundantly clear. Snarky comments, schemes to make him look bad, hints to Carlos about how he could do better, Lando had done and continued to do it all.
And although Charles would’ve liked to think that the reason for this was a complete mystery to him, the truth was that there were in fact two very distinct events that he was certain had tipped the scales so solidly in his disfavor.
The first of which being the summer he and Carlos had spent together, which, unbeknownst to him at the time, had only been made possible by Carlos’ cancelling a golf trip him and Lando had planned together.
In truth, the cancellation hadn’t been that big of an issue for Lando at the time. From what Charles had gathered from Pierre’s retelling of the event, Lando had been going out with a girl of his own at the time and been just as ready as Carlos to postpone their trip in favor of spending his summer with her.
The problem had only arisen as the summer passed and Lando’s relationship slowly fizzled out into nothing, and Carlos’ didn’t.
“I think that he thought that they would both have their summer flings and then go back to their regularly scheduled programming in the fall, you know, bachelors in New York and all that”, Pierre had eventually told him as Charles for the millionth time had ranted about Lando’s unexplained dislike for him.
“He was probably just a little disappointed and a little annoyed when that didn’t happen, he’s always been a little protective of Carlos”, Pierre had shrugged his shoulders, “he just needs a little time to adapt”.
A little time.
That was what Carlos had said as well, once Charles had finally gathered up the courage to bring it up with him, his voice shaky as he laid his feelings out over dinner.
He’d been so nervous that he’d started stuttering over his words and Carlos had even had to reach out to take his hand halfway through it, forehead drawn tight with worry, because Charles didn’t get nervous.
And he really didn’t get nervous. About anything. But Lando was Carlos’ best friend in the whole world, he was exceptionally important to him and as close to him as his sisters were, meaning that his approval was of great importance and not having it was absolutely awful.
Bringing it up to Carlos was even worse because the last thing Charles wanted to do was to drive a wedge between them or do anything to threaten that friendship. Lando had never done anything outwardly cruel towards him, although he made sure to make his displeasure known through at times rather heavy-handed comments and insinuations.
He didn’t want Carlos and Lando to stop being friends, nor did he want Carlos to see Lando less. He just wanted to know what it was that made Lando hate him so much, and what he could do to fix it.
“He just needs some time to get used to you being in my life, we’ve been friends for so long, best friends, you know, it’s- “.
Best friends, Carlos was Lando’s best friend, a term which was at the center of the second event that had placed Charles so firmly in Lando’s bad book. Charles had, at Carlos’ birthday, given a small speech at the restaurant where the celebration was held, bashfully wishing a happy birthday to my boyfriend, my best friend, the love of my life.
The dedication had been met with claps from everyone around the table and Charles hadn’t thought much of it at the time, accepting the kiss from Carlos in thanks and feeling his heart skip as he intertwined their hands underneath the table, only thinking of it again as Pierre walked up some time later to clap Carlos on the shoulder.
“-and thusly, I have been demoted, I guess”, he said with a big grin on his face, “glad it’s someone worthy of the title”, he leaned in to kiss Carlos on the cheek, Charles giggled at his antics, “you should just be glad you weren’t carrying that torch when he was in law school, absolute pain in the ass, I’m telling you”, Carlos laughed, but squeezed Charles’ knee underneath the table.
And as Pierre continued on, Charles didn’t think much more of it, Carlos was in many ways his best friend, the best friend he’d ever had. There was no one he liked being with more than Carlos, and so it felt natural for him to say it, and it wasn’t the first time either.
Drunk on love and endorphins he’d said it against Carlos’ chest numerous times as they lay in bed and Carlos had said it back to him. It was like a little secret they whispered between themselves.
You’re the love of my life, my best friend, I love you so much.
The night had continued on, and Charles had come to forget most of his speech until he walked into the bathroom, interrupting a very drunk Lando mid-spiel.
“-posturing, like he’s trying to prove that he holds the number one spot in all areas of Car-“, Lando’s mouth had very promptly slammed shut as their eyes had connected, and Charles had felt his stomach drop with dread.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been confronted with someone talking shit behind his back, he’d gone to a private school in Monaco for Christ’s sake. He’d been called ugly and vain, cocky, and conceited, a bitch and a fucking faggot, but nothing had ever stung like that half-interrupted sentence had.
Because Carlos was personal to him, and the speech had perhaps been the most honest Charles had ever been in a public setting, and so to have it flung back in his face with such disdain, it felt like a stab to the heart.
But, ever the little, perfect, private school boy who’d learn how bite down his tears and eat up his own hurts, he took it in stride.
“Just need to use the bathroom, if you don’t mind”, the guy Lando had been talking to gaped at him and Charles could see how Lando’s eyes widened with a look of instant regret, but only let himself think that he wouldn’t have made it very far at his old school.
He finished in the bathroom and reclaimed his spot next to Carlos.
The next night Carlos kissed the spot behind his ear where there was a small mole that he’d never noticed until Carlos had pointed it out to him.
“I love you so much”, Carlos whispered against his skin, “you’re my best friend”. Charles kissed him on the mouth, to keep from answering, feeling Lando’s words trying to push their way back up his throat.
He didn’t say it back.
Things hadn’t bettered much between him and Lando since then, and after humbling himself and groveling at Lando’s feet for months to get him to like him, Charles had given up and resigned himself to wait for Lando to give up his resentments on his own.
He knew that Lando was waiting for him and Carlos to break up, that he was hoping that Charles would eventually be worn down and give it all up, but that wasn’t an option, and he certainly wouldn’t let Lando fucking Norris be the thing that broke him and Carlos up.
In all honesty, Lando’s disdain for him likely wouldn’t have bothered him as much at all had it not been for the fact that all of his friends loved Carlos, absolutely adored him.
His friends from worked fawned over him like the second coming of Christ, every woman telling him how absolutely gorgeous he was, how kind and lovely and amazing, and every man going off about his intelligence and sense of humor, how much he knew about football and how good of a lawyer he was.
Carlos was cool and funny and a great catch, no, really, a ten out of ten. Even Pierre had taken to him instantly, no sign of any sort of protectiveness over Charles or hesitation over their relationship, at times it seemed to Charles that he liked Carlos even better than he liked him.
During their first introductory dinner, where Charles had formally introduced them, his best friend and his boyfriend, arguably the two most important men in his life, apart from his brothers, Pierre had leaned over the table as Carlos excused himself to go to the bathroom and fixed him with a strict stare.
“Don’t fuck this up, Charlie”, he’d said seriously, pointing his finger at him.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a great fucking guy and he’s absolutely head over heels in love with you, so don’t pull any of your attachment issue shit and fuck this up”.
“I’m not going to- “
“I’m serious, Charles, don’t ruin this for yourself”.
Charles had been insulted by this at first, mostly because he didn’t want to admit that there were any attachment issues in the first place, but also because Pierre was, of course, supposed to be his friend and therefore on his side.
Carlos should be the one to be warned off from fucking things up, not him.
Still, Pierre’s warning did in some ways resonate with something within him, as he did find himself returning to it whenever someone would point out that him and Carlos were getting very close, or moving very quickly and he would get the urge to spend a week at his own apartment just to prove them wrong.
This changed just after the summer, however.
“She’s here”, Lorenzo had said into the phone, his voice soft and Charles had sat up on the couch, his hand flying to cover his mouth.
“She is?”, he asked, his voice a whisper as he felt his eyes watering, meeting Carlos’ concerned stare as he sat up next to him, with a small shake of his head, “-and everything is- “, he trails off.
“Everything is good- “, Lorenzo answered, and Charles let his hand drop to his chest, feeling his heart pounding hard against his ribs, “-she’s healthy and happy, and, sorry, Theresa wants to speak to you”, there was rustling on the other end of the line, before it filled with Theresa’s voice.
“Charlie”, she said softly, and Charles felt his throat grow so tight that he could barely breathe, “how are you”, Charles coughed through a teary-eyes huff of laughter.
“How am I?”, he asked ridiculously, “how are you?”, he could hear the smile in Theresa’s voice as she answered.
“I’m perfect, she’s perfect, everything is- perfect “, she trailed off, “you’re coming to see her, right? To see us?”, Charles was fully crying now, tears streaming down his face, as Carlos watched in half-worry, clearly not able to discern any of Charles’ French.
“Of course,”, he answered with a nod of his head, “of course, I’ll book the tickets now”, he met Carlos’ eyes and reached out to stroke a hand down the back of his neck, too overcome with emotion to help himself. The touch seemed to ease some of the tension his tears had caused in his shoulders.
“Good”, Theresa whispered, and Charles felt his heart thunder in his chest as he held Carlos’ eyes.
“Theresa?”, he asked carefully, still watching Carlos.
“Oui”
“Can I bring someone along with me?”, Theresa was only silent for a split second before answering.
“This wouldn’t be the first time I met this someone, I take it?”, there was a sweet, knowing tilt to her voice and Charles felt his smile grow on his face.
“No”
“Tell Carlos I’ll be disappointed if he isn’t there”.
He said goodbye to his brother and then hung up the phone, feeling a laugh bubbling up through his chest as he did, overcome with pure joy.
“What’s happened?”, Carlos asked him carefully and Charles smiled, shaking his head in happy disbelief, before sliding fully into Carlos’ lap, tightening the hold around his neck to bring their faces closer together.
“Will you come to Monaco with me?”, he asked, still grinning stupidly. He could see the corner of Carlos’ lips twitching with the beginning of a smile, “it was Enzo and Theresa, she’s here”.
“She is?”, Charles nodded, “of course, I will, do you want me to?”
“Of course, I do”
They flew to Monaco the next day, and his brother greeted Carlos as excitedly as himself, pulling him into a hug and clapping him on the back as if they’d known each other all their lives.
Theresa placed Victoire into his arms and Charles thought for a second that he might’ve actually been wrong about Carlos being the love of his life, because he’d never felt such an overwhelming sense of devotion before, but this quickly passed again as Victorie was placed into Carlos’ arms next.
Sitting on the couch together, the four of them spoke softly to each other as Victorie slept, seemingly put instantly at ease in Carlos’ arms, and as Carlos looked out the window, his hand holding her small body safely tucked against him, Theresa took a photo, which along with the ones from the hospital and Charles holding her, was framed, and hung up on the wall.
Even more than Pierre’s threat, his finger poking into his chest in warning, it was this picture that warned him off from getting scared. How could he be scared to be tied down to someone like Carlos, so safe and good that his brother would hand his newborn baby off to him without a second thought, already so loved by his family that his picture was printed out and hung up as easily as his own.
So, at every moment of silent panic, every swoop and drop of his stomach when he was faced with how deep into it he was, how deep into Carlo he was, he pictured the wall in Lorenzo and Theresa’s living room.
Victorie’s little face with the same nose as his father resting idly against the soft cotton of Carlos’ t-shirt, his hand wrapped securely around her body and his eyes watching her closely, his eyelashes casting shadows against his cheeks.
It eased every worry within him, filled him with warm contentment.
Carlos was in the middle of preparing dinner as he stepped out of the shower, and not daring to offer his help with the culinary prep work, he only squeezed Carlos’ hip as he walked past, before setting the table.
The other guests arrived some time later and Lewis’ new girlfriend was sweet, blonde hair and blue eyes.
She smiles and gives Charles a hug as she introduces herself and Charles instantly likes her and can quickly see that she’s a good match for Lewis. Same humorous glint in her eye, same easy-going way of carrying herself.
Lando is civil enough as he arrives ten minutes later, clapping him on the shoulder in greeting without meeting his eyes before beelining over to where Carlos’ was standing, the two of them quickly falling into a fit of laughter.
And Charles smiles at the sight, because he likes seeing Carlos laugh and he’s happy that he’s happy, happy that he has such close friendships around him, but even so, it stings just a little bit. He’s had a long day and he’s tired and he’s feeling a little needy.
He wants some attention, more than anything else, that’s what he wants, Carlos’ attention to be exact, and he had in all honesty become a bit high maintenance in that aspect. He was used to kisses and touches, all focus on him, used to being pampered if he’d had a rough day.
Not to say that he didn’t do exactly the same for Carlos in return, he always did, and happily at that. But not getting it and having to bear the brunt of Lando’s disapproval as well, the little annoyed stare he sends him over his shoulder as he laughs at something Cornelia says, it makes his stomach turn just a bit and his neediness grow.
Luckily, they quickly make their way over to the table and as always, Carlos take the seat next to him. This was one of Carlos’ hardest principles and one of the expectations he’d made very clear to him from the beginning of their relationship.
The spot next to him was always Charles’, no matter what. No exceptions, no questions asked. It was always for Charles.
“If I’m your boyfriend I want to sit next to you. I don’t want to play at sitting far apart from each other, I want to be able to hold your hand and talk to you when I want”.
This was also one of the only things he’d ever told Lando off for directly, snarky comments and annoyed looks, he usually let slide, at Charles’ request, but the one time Lando had slipped into the chair next to him before Charles had a chance to, Carlos had asked him to move.
“Is Charles scared to sit alone or something, can he not be on his own for the length of a single dinner?”, Lando had asked sarcastically in reply and Charles was already half-way through telling Carlos that it was fine (this had been during the period he’d groveled as best he could at any chance he got for Lando’s approval), when he was interrupted.
“It’s fine, Carlos, I’ll see you after the dinner- “, the only available seat had been at the other end of the room.
“No, Lando, I’m sitting next to Charles, sorry mate”, there had been no joking tone to Carlos’ voice, and it had seemed to surprise even Lando.
“Really, baby”, Charles placed his hand on Carlos’ shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, “I don’t mind it’s-“, Lando interrupted him.
“Hear that? He said it’s fine by him, he doesn’t care”, Charles bit down on his lip to keep from protesting. He did care, that was not what he had said at all.
“But I do”, Carlos said and reached out to clap Lando on the shoulder, before grabbing onto Charles’ hand on his own, as if to keep him from walking away, “I want to sit next to him”.
Lando had not tried to take Charles’ place again after that, and the same was true for this occasion, Lando staring at the seat next to Carlos for split second before moving on to the other side of the table.
Charles bites back a smile as Carlos slides in next to him, feeling some of his neediness being satiated as Carlos places his hand on his thigh, splaying his fingers out possessively. He feels so in love that he could just about throw up.
The dinner passes by without much hiccups and is surprisingly nice, Charles’ slightly dampened mood brightening up as the wine and beers keep flowing. Cornelia is very sweet and a surprisingly good addition to the group dynamic.
“You know who you look like?”, she says in Carlos’ direction, well into her third glass of wine, her inhibitions having clearly been lowered.
“Um, no”, Carlos says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Charles smiles in gleeful anticipation and takes a sip of his beer.
“Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid”, Charles bursts into instant laughter as Carlos blushes and shakes his head.
“No, no”, he says as Lewis chimes in that you do, and Charles takes a second to look at him closer, and in spite of not having noticed before, he kind of does look like Prince Eric from the Little Mermaid. Carlos turns to him as if sensing his thoughts, “don’t”, he says after just glancing in his direction and Charles giggles harder.
“But you kind of do, baby”, he says then and Carlos shakes his head again.
“-and that makes you Ariel”, Cornelia continues in his direction and Charles just laughs, nodding along.
“No, actually, you know who that makes you?”, Carlos squeezes his thigh and Charles looks at his face to see a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “you’re the little, red crab, what’s his name-?”
“Sebastian!”, Cornelia chimes in and Carlos snaps his fingers in agreement.
“That’s right, Sebastian”, he says and leans in to cup Charles’ jaw in his hands, struggling to press a kiss to his jaw as Charles pulls back from him.
“I’m not”, he protests, finally letting up and letting Carlos pepper kisses along his jaw, before finally pulling away, but not so far that Carlos can’t still place his hand on his thigh. A knowing glint comes into his eyes, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“Are you saying that that was not what you looked like when we were in Mallorca, mi amor?”, Carlos says and nods towards the picture Cornelia had pulled up on her phone. Charles rolls his eyes and shakes his head.
“I was not that sunburned”, he grumbles as Carlos laughs. He had in fact been exactly that sunburned, but it had faded quickly enough, leaving him a nice golden shade that Carlos had been absolutely obsessed with. Just about licking him from head to toe.
“You were in Mallorca?”, Cornelia asks as Lewis laughs at their antics and Carlos sobers up enough to nod.
“Yes, my family has a summer house there”, Carlos answers, “we went there last summer”, he squeezes Charles thigh, and it makes Charles think of Carlos’ bedroom there. The white linen sheets, the almost red sunset shining in through the windows.
“It’s really beautiful”, Charles says at the same time as Lando chimes in from the side.
“It’s huge”, he says, and Cornelia turns towards him, clearly a little surprised at his interjection.
“You’ve been there too?”, she asks, and he nods.
“Oh, yeah, loads of times”, he answers.
“Lando practically has his own room there”, Carlos says jokingly and Charles smiles through the slight sting in his gut.
“But you’ve only been there the one time, right Charles?”, Lando asks, although he knows the answer and Charles bites down on his lip as he nods.
“Yeah, we haven’t really had the time to, but we’re looking into maybe going down for another week later- “, Lando interrupts him before he can finish.
“Only so much time to vacation when you’ve only known each other for couple of months”, he says next and without wanting to, Charles lets himself be rattled.
“We’ve been together for ten months actually”, he bites back and a satisfied smirk spreads across Lando’s face. Fuck, Charles thinks to himself and bites down on the inside of his cheeks so hard that he can taste blood.
“-but Carlos’ family wasn’t there when you were, right?”, Lando asks next and Charles feels his heart drop further and gets the urge to strangle him, because Lando often does this, doubles down when he realizes that he’s cracked Charles façade.
And Charles knows that Lando, at that second, thinks that he’s managed to hammer home the point that Charles isn’t actually all that important in Carlos’ life, he hasn’t even been at the summer house at the same time as his family. The most important people in Carlos’ life and he didn’t even want them to vacation together.
But the urge to absolutely murder him and the way his heart drops into his stomach isn’t for himself at all, it’s for the way he feels Carlos go absolutely rigid next to him, the hand on his thigh freezing and the smile on his face stilling.
“His mother makes the best paella, I’m telling you, Charles wouldn’t know this but-“, Lando trails off, clearly seeing the way Charles jaw clenches, but missing the way Carlos grows white as a sheet, and after clearing his voice once to get him to stop, but not managing to, Charles turns pointedly to Cornelia, cutting Lando off mid-spiel.
“I’ve actually heard of this great restaurant downtown that’s supposed to have such great tapas”, he says, continuing even louder as he sees Lando opens his mouth, “one of the other lawyers at my firm just went with her husband, and she said it was so amazing, I don’t know if-“, he trails off, talking until he notices the color returning to Carlos’ face.
Lando sits and skulks for a few seconds, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but after few minutes of tension, things return back to normal again and Charles lets himself relax back into his seat.
They talk and laugh, joke around and Charles eventually goes to get himself another beer.
“-I think you need to cut it, man”, he hears Lewis remarking from behind him as he’s made it into the kitchen, and grabbing the bottle he spins around, interrupting Carlos halfway through his answer.
“I would, but- “,
“Don’t you fucking dare”, he says strictly, pointing the unopened bottle in his direction as he rounds the kitchen island to return to the table.
“-but as you can see it would be unpopular”, Carlos finishes with an amused smile in Charles’ direction as he sinks back into his seat next to him, raising his eyebrows as if to challenge him to do it, which Carlos mirrors instantly, causing them both to smile in secretive amusement, before returning their attention to the table.
“Okay, I get it”, Lewis laughs and Carlos smiles as he returns his hand to Charles’ knee, seemingly prompting Lando to, as if on cue, sour the light mood.
“So, he can’t decide about his own haircuts anymore?”, he asks evenly, eyebrows raised in challenge and Charles takes a calming breath before turning towards him, praying to whatever powers controlled the universe to give him strength.
“No, that’s not the case at all”, he says, meeting Lando’s stare head on and lifting his hand to place at the nape of Carlos’ neck, “he can cut his hair all he wants, it’s just that he would find his dick to be very much un-sucked for quite some time if he did”.
Lewis coughs out a surprised laugh as he finishes, while Carlos on his end seems to decide to ignore the bite in his tone, and simply squeezes his knee in silent reassurance.
“As you can see my hands are tied”, Carlos says jokingly, the tension ebbing away as Lewis laughs, and Charles drops his eyes away from Lando, plastering a smile back on his face to hide his annoyance.
“Well, I actually agree with you, Charles”, Cornelia pipes up from Lewis’ side, making Charles tear his eyes away from the side of Carlos’ face, “he looks very good with the long hair, it would be a shame if he cut it”, she sends him a friendly smile.
“Right?”, Charles exclaims, reaching up to thread his fingers through Carlos’ hair, “I like it when it curls around his ears like this”, he traces the small curl with his finger and giggles as Carlos rolls his eyes at his ministrations.
“You guys are so cute”, Cornelia remarks and Charles smiles in reply, feeling a small sense of satisfaction rolling through him as he sees Lando roll his eyes across the table, “How did you meet?”, Carlos’ eyes meet his for a fraction of a second to silently decide who would answer, but before any of them have had a chance to utter a single word, Lando pipes up.
“They met at work”, he says dismissively and Charles bites down on his lip to control his annoyance.
“Oh”, Cornelia answers, sending an unsure look in Lando’s direction, before returning her eyes to him and Carlos, “um, so did you guys work at the same firm or-“, Charles opens his mouth, but Lando interrupts him again.
“No, they met in court”, he says curtly and Cornelia smiles uncomfortably, “-any- “, Charles interrupts him before he can finish his sentence.
“The first time we properly talked was actually at a bar”, he says, and Cornelia turns towards him with a relieved smile, “I mean, we had met previously in court, but that was the first time we spoke for longer than two minutes”, he says.
“Oh, that’s nice, was that like your first date?”, she asks with a smile.
“No, not at all, I hit on him, and he rejected me”.
“Charles”, Carlos sighs in exasperation and reaches up to rub a hand across his face. He hated it when Charles told people this, which was the main reason Charles loved to do it.
“What?”, Lewis exclaims, laughing in surprise, “you’re joking, right?”, he looks them in bewilderment.
“I didn’t reject him”, Carlos says in Cornelia’s direction.
Charles reaches out to slap a hand to Carlos’ chest, “you did”, he says, turning back towards Cornelia, “he did”, Cornelia giggles.
“Every time”, Carlos sighs, looking up at the ceiling, and Charles bites back an amused smile as he turns his face back towards him, “I didn’t reject you, mi amor”, Charles raises his eyebrows in challenge.
“Didn’t you?”, he says, turning back towards Cornelia before Carlos has had a chance to answer, “I asked, in no uncertain terms, if he wanted to sleep with me and he turned me down”.
“He asked you to sleep with him and you turned him down?”, Lewis asks, nudging Carlos’ shoulder, “why did I sit for hours upon hours listening to you droning on about him if you knew he was interested?”, Charles feels his heart skip in his chest, “-and why have I never been told this before?”
“-you sat for hours droning on about me?”
A flush spreads across Carlos’ cheeks and he reaches up to rub across his face as Cornelia giggles, “it was not that bad”, he says in Lewis’ direction, before sending Charles a small glance, “it wasn’t”, Charles turns to Lewis as if to get confirmation.
Lewis looks at Carlos for a second and sends him an apologetic shake of his head, before turning back towards Charles, “it was, let me tell you- “, Carlos groans as Cornelia bursts into laughter, “he was so stupid for you it was unbearable, he’d sit on my couch for hours on end- “
“I didn’t know you’d been stupid about me”, Charles says later, his body leaning against the bathroom counter and his hands hanging idly by his side as he watches Carlos finish up brushing his teeth.
Carlos raises his eyebrows at him, the toothbrush still in his mouth, before leaning down to spit out his toothpaste.
“Wasn’t I acting quite obvious?”, he asks once he’s straightened up again, a flirtatious glint in his eye as he meets his for a second before reaching past him and grabbing a moisturizer from the cabinet next to him.
Charles shrugs. “I mean, I knew that you liked me, it’s just- “, he hesitates, and watches Carlos apply the moisturizer to his face, his fingers stroking across his skin, “-I didn’t think you’d been feeling the way I had”, Carlos pauses and looks at him, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Why not?”, he asks, sounding genuinely confused and Charles shrugs again.
“I don’t know”, he says, “you’d fallen in love before”, Carlos sends him an unimpressed look, prompting him to speak up again, “don’t try to deny it, you’ve already told me”, Carlos shakes his head before turning his attention away from him and towards the array of skin products Charles had left on the counter after using them.
“I’m not denying it”, he says distractedly, meticulously placing each of the bottles and pots back onto the correct shelves, “I’d fallen in love before, but that was nothing like how it was with you, Charles”.
Charles can feel his heart skip into his throat as his face grows hot. Carlos says it casually, his attention still directed away from him, as if he wasn’t paying attention to his own words, and he only continues again as he lets go of the last bottle, Charles’ face serum, and turns to find Charles still looking at him, unable to find the right words to say.
“Don’t act as if this is some sort of surprise to you”, he says with a roll of his eyes, sending him another look as Charles doesn’t answer, “Charles”, he says exasperatedly, looking at him as if he thought he was being stupid, “you knew this”. Charles stutters.
“How would I have known?”, he asks, and Carlos rolls his eyes again, seeming like he thought Charles was playing dumb.
“Charles”, he grumbles under his breath, his voice carrying the tone of mock-exasperation that he used when he thought Charles was being irritating, but not in a way that truly bothered him beyond a mild amused annoyance.
The sound of it usually prompted Charles to give up his spiel and so as he instead just continued looking at him, Carlos furrows his brows at him again, “You didn’t know-, Charles, I’ve told you this before”, he says seriously, leaning his hip against the counter next to him and folding his arms across his chest.
“No, you haven’t”, Charles answers.
“I’ve told you that I was half in love with you from that first night at the club with Lando and Pierre”, Carlos says matter-of-factly, and Charles feels his face flame, as it always did when Carlos talked about his feelings for him.
There was never anything particularly poetic about it, Carlos always talked about his love for him as if it was an objective fact, as unchangeable and undeniable as the earth being round.
“Yes…”, Charles says somewhat breathlessly, “…but you haven’t said that you felt-“, he felt his blush deepening, “-crazy about me the same way I felt for you”, Carlos raises his hand in question at him.
“Why did you think it felt different for me?”
“Because you’d been in love before! You knew what it felt like”, Charles exclaims, but Carlos just furrows his brows at him again, shrugging his shoulders in question.
“-and?”, he asks, “what does that have to do with anything?”, Charles shakes his head in exasperation, “I already told you that it was different with you, I’d never felt like that either”.
Charles heart flutters in his chest and he has to take a breath to steady his voice before replying. A part of him had always thought that him and Carlos had been almost too intense at times, too much, even compared to how he heard other people talk about how they’d met their partners.
A lot of stories often revolved around the natural progression of things, the process of falling in love seeming to be more of a cursory step in the evolution of a relationship than the sudden whirlwind of intense emotions it’d felt like for him. Nothing about falling for Carlos had felt like a planned process, like something that grew slowly as they got to know each other better, it’d been instant.
One of his colleagues had announced some weeks earlier over a coffee in the breakroom that she had felt herself falling for one of her more casual hookups and had to pull away and there had been something about that statement that had bothered Charles, although he hadn’t been sure of what, until much later in the day when he’d realized that there had been no point where Charles had felt himself falling for Carlos.
From the moment they’d had their first real conversation at the bar he’d already been falling, and there was nothing he could’ve done to stop it.
“Well, I wouldn’t know that, I’d never, you know I’d never been in love with anyone before”, Charles says and ignores the urge to roll his eyes as he sees Carlos bite away the same smug smile that always seemed to flash across his face whenever Charles said this, some strange primal instinct inside of him clearly overjoyed at being the first and only person Charles had felt this way about.
“Yeah, well, it was different with us”, Carlos says.
“Different how?”, Charles asks and feels a small twist of satisfaction in his gut as he sees a light pink spread across Carlos’ cheeks.
“I just knew right away”, he says with a small shrug and Charles feels his brows knit together on his forehead, “-and it made me a little insane about you, which Lewis had to carry the brunt of because I didn’t really know who else to tell”.
“Knew what?”, Charles asks and Carlos smiles, the slight embarrassment seeming to fade away as he leans in to cup Charles’ face in his hands and lean in towards him.
“That you were it, you know, that if it wasn’t you then it wouldn’t be anyone else either”, Carlos pecks him on the lips before leaning back again, some of the seriousness slipping away from his face as he does, a joking glint coming into his eyes, “that you were the love of my life”, Charles rolls his eyes but blushes all the while.
“You’re such a flirt”, Charles says with a shake of his head, before shoving him backwards to walk away from him.
Carlos laughs but doesn’t let him take more than two steps away from him, before he’s grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him back, caging him in against the counter.
“But did it work?”, he asks amusedly, and Charles instantly shakes his head, trying to keep from smiling as he does.
“No”
“Come on”, Carlos leans in even closer until their faces are only a few inches apart and tightens the grip he’d gotten around his waist. Charles feels his stomach swooping and it makes him momentarily breathless.
Would this attraction ever fade? Would Carlos ever stop having this effect on him?
“Maybe a little”, he whispers against Carlos’ mouth, and he feels the other man smile, more than he sees it.
“-a little”, Carlos mocks him, and Charles rolls his eyes again, but still accepts the kiss being pressed to his lips, feeling arousal pool hotly within him as the kiss deepens. He pushes closer to Carlos, pressing his chest into his and wrapping his arm closer around his neck.
“When’s your first meeting tomorrow?”, Carlos asks him in a heated whisper and Charles feels a groan making its way up his throat as he tips his head backwards to answer, giving Carlos ample access to his throat and neck.
“Um”, he mumbles, finding it hard to concentrate under Carlos’ relentless ministrations, “seven thirty”, he feels Carlos sigh. It was way too late for this. “You?”
“I had a cancellation, so not until ten”, Charles feels like groaning again, but pushes it down.
“You can sleep in then”, he says, and Carlos sends him a look, “what?”, Charles asks, “you can”, Carlos presses a final kiss to the edge of his jaw, before loosening his grip in his waist, stroking him softly up and down instead.
“Yeah, right”, Carlos says and takes a step backwards, stopping as Charles tightens his grip on his neck, “come on, we need to sleep”, he pats Charles on the butt, once, twice, “the alarm goes off in four hours, mi amor”, Charles tips his head backwards and sighs in displeasure.
“We can be quick”, he says and pushes closer to Carlos again, stroking along the hairs at the nape of his neck as he does. Carlos looks down at him and considers him for a moment before answering.
“There’s nothing quick about what I want to do to you right now, baby”, he whispers, and Charles thinks he just might melt into the floor.
“But- “
“No buts, come on”, Carlos lets go of him then and takes two big steps backwards before holding out his hand for him again, “sleep”, Charles reluctantly agrees and takes his hand and follows him.
Carlos falls asleep almost instantly as they’ve made it underneath the covers, but Charles lays awake for a little longer, listening to the sound of his breathing. He thinks that by now he could recognize the sound of Carlos’ breathing amongst a thousand others and the thought makes him smile.
Leaning over his boyfriend, he presses a kiss to the spot on his chest where the sound of his heartbeat was always strongest.
“I love you”, he whispers, but Carlos doesn’t answer and remains asleep, not even stirring at the touch.
However, the arm wrapping around him at five-thirty the next morning along with the espresso that’s waiting for him on the counter as he gets out of the shower is a better declaration of love than any verbal one could ever be.