milliways_bar | (no subject)

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He's not bartending tonight, so Bartleby finds a booth and sprawls into it with a groan. He's been 'helping' a friend of his roommate's move into a new apartment. This 'helping' appeared to consist of him carrying boxes back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, while arty, thin, androgynous people stood around and whispered under their breaths "Do you think he's safe?", "Should be in jail," and "Tried to destroy the world".

He's always hated the lie of human forgiveness.

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"You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me," Bartleby murmurs, and then, very quietly, "Don't go away."

Charlie feels his eyes sting and he leans his head on Bartleby's shoulder, sliding his arms around Bartleby's waist. "Come with me. Just for a day or two. Come walk the beaches with me, play in the surf. We'll tell everyone you've always been there, or something. We'll tell them something.

"I just need to know they're okay."

"I want to." Bartleby draws in a breath. "I want to.But..."

"But?" He kisses the back of Bartleby's neck again, holding him as close as he can. "I want to make love to you listening to the ocean," he whispers into his ear.

"But nothing," Bartleby murmurs back. "Okay."

Charlie does not squee. Grown men do not squee. But he squeezes Bartleby very tight and kisses him again and makes a very happy sound that could, if one were so inclined, be construed as squeeing.

"Good."

"Yeah." Bartleby is grinning, and he's so glad he came here instead of just crashing on his floor, because he feels a million times better. He can even ignore his back, and his stretched and tired arms and legs, and his sore feet.

"It won't be very comfortable," Charlie warns him, still kissing him. "It's hot and we have to lug water everywhere we go. But it's so beautiful, angel. The ocean and the jungle . . . it's beautiful.

"I haven't any idea how I'm going to explain you but I'll think of something. Or we could hide out and I'll pop in to check on everyone and then we can be alone the rest of the time."

"It sounds fantastic." Bartleby slides a hand into Charlie's hair. "You're fantastic."

Charlie would start, "No, you are," if he didn't think such exchanges were perfectly ridiculous.

As it is, there's just much kissing and grinning and he even stops worrying about Bartleby's back.

[ooc: bed needed. :D leave them there-ish?]

[ooc: perfect timing. g'night.]

[ooc: g'night. *mwah*]

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