Give it some, give it some, give it some time, But I think we're supposed to be

Part Three.

It's a short drive from the building that had once been yours to Charles', but still, the difference is marked: your regular apartment block versus Charles' luxury one, his designated, secluded parking spot to protect his Ferrari, the private entrance to his apartment from the elevator. It's a long, quiet ride up to the fifteenth floor, which Charles occupies in full. Buttons meows softly in his carrier; Charles whistles as each floor zooms past.

"Come here, baby," he says, as the twelfth floor flies by. You look at him, confused, but he reaches an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. "I want to carry you across," he says. "Like in the movies."

You're heavier than Charles, of course, and you have Buttons, too, but Charles is stronger than you could ever be, despite his slender frame. You let him tug you into his body, position his arms underneath you, and hoist you into his arms, bridal style, just as the elevator doors ding open onto the fifteenth floor, Charles' front hall.

You can't help the way you laugh as Charles maneuvers you both through the elevator doors and into the hallway. It's stupid, your sneakers scuffing against the white walls as he tries to carry you through to the living room, Buttons' carrier positioned precariously in your lap. You accidentally kick a bright red Ferrari hat off the front table and Charles barks out a beautiful, breathtaking laugh, toeing it out of his way.

"Breaking things already, huh? Barely even lived here for one whole minute."

"It's your fault," you weakly slap Charles' chest, letting your palm come to rest over his heart. His skin is warm, body toned from hours of training, and you realize he's not shaking at all, even after all this time carrying you. "Thank you for this homecoming," you stretch your neck to press a kiss to Charles' lips, quick and sweet, safe and familiar.

Charles sets you down on the couch with ease, coming to rest on his knees in front of you. You cup his cheek, thumb pressing against his lips. "I'm so happy," he says, lips kissing your finger with every word. "Thank you for moving in with me."

"Don't be stupid," you shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. Sad, twenty minutes ago at your old apartment; impossibly happy now, in your new home. Your head spins with the rush of it all, your body aches for sleep. "I love you."

Charles hums happily, stretching up for a kiss. "Me more," he tells you when he pulls away, green eyes sparkling. "I promise."

- -

You wake up on the couch to the sound of Charles cursing.

" Ach, putain, " he's saying, his voice sharper than usual, stirring you out of sleep. " Quel bordel, ça pue. Fucking hell."

"Charles?" You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to find him in the corner on the other side of the living room, glasses on and bandana pushing his hair off his forehead. "You okay?"

Charles' head snaps up, eyes meeting yours across the room, and he smiles softly. "Sorry to wake you," he's charming, even when he's frustrated, and you have to fight the urge to reach your arms out like a baby, to beckon him in for a cuddle. "Buttons."

"Buttons?"

"He went to the toilet," Charles says, nose crinkling. It's then that you notice he's holding a roll of paper towels in one hand, cleaning spray in the other. "On the floor."

Once Charles mentions it, you can't believe you'd missed it. The smell hits you like a wall, causing your nose to wrinkle involuntarily and your heart to sink. "Oh, God, Charles, I'm sorry," you stand up, rushing across the room to take the paper towels from him. "I'll clean it up."

"It will be okay," Charles pushes up his glasses with his free hand, spraying the floor for you as you drop to your knees to wipe up the mess. "I think this will get it out."

"It will, it will," you promise. "I just feel bad. Less than 24 hours in your apartment and Buttons already made a mess."

"Our," Charles kneels down next to you, touching your back gently to encourage you to meet his eyes. His mouth is quirked up into a smile, eyes crinkling gently. "It's our apartment now. Mine, yours, and, as much as I maybe do not want to say it, Buttons'."

You laugh quietly, and Charles echoes you. "Buttons will learn," you tell him, sour mood softening. "I'm sure he's confused and scared right now. I just wish he understood me so I could explain everything to him."

"Maybe he understands more than we think," Charles stands up, reaching his hand down to help you up, too. You take it, warm and soft, and let him pull you up into his arms. You melt into his body, sliding your arms around his small waist and resting your cheek against the warmth of his chest."The way he looks at me, sometimes I think he does. It's like he wants to fight me."

"He's just a feisty little guy," you laugh, eyes fluttering closed again. Today was so long that this morning feels like another country. "But I don't think he understands us."

"One day he will speak to me," Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiles against your hair. "And I do not think he will be saying nice things."

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