"Charlie?" Floyd called as he entered the seemingly empty hotel room and shut the door behind him.
"Balcony!" Charlie called back, turning in her seat to watch him through the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window behind her. She hadn't realised she'd been sitting in such a way that she was concealed by one of the curtains, but she was glad for it now, because she got the perfect view of the way Floyd's face lit up at the sound of her voice.
Charlie turned back around and pretended she hadn't been watching him, and when he came outside he was none the wiser.
"Pretty," he said, inclining his head in the direction of the sky.
"Beautiful," Charlie agreed. "I love it here."
He smiled. "I had a feeling you might."
Floyd sat down in the chair beside Charlie's and lounged back, keeping his eyes directed towards the sky but his peripheral vision on her. She was smiling and radiant, all done up ready for the party and positively glowing with peace.
Happiness looked stunning on her.
"Nice place," Floyd said, breaking their comfortable quiet.
Charlie hummed her agreement. "Is your room much the same?"
"The balcony looks out onto the town, not the lake and the mountains, but inside the room it's the same."
"Mabs and I got lucky, then," Charlie remarked, giving him a smug smile. "Autumn and Boo are across the hall, on your side."
"Looks like I'll be spending a lot of time in your room, then."
Charlie laughed at the suggestive wiggling of his eyebrows. "You'll have to fight me for this balcony," she said. "I won't easily give it up."
"We could share," Floyd suggested with a smile. "I don't think I'll be spending a lot of time in my own room. Drew the short straw," he explained with a shake of his head and a low, resentful laugh. "Got Malark as a roommate. Reckon I'll be kicked out more often than not so Henry can come over."
Charlie grinned over at him. "Henry's got a room to herself. Don will be in her room, sharing her big double bed, and you'll have the place to yourself, I guarantee it."
"You serious?" Floyd shared her grin and he glowed in the orange light of the sunset. Out here, he looked like a painting. He had surely been born to be admired.
"Completely," Charlie replied. "Congratulations."
He laughed. "Austria ain't turning out to be so bad."
"Not at all." Charlie shook her head with a smile. "Did you come up here from the party?" she asked after a beat, only pretending to gaze at the sunset as she studied him out of the corner of her eye.
"Yeah. I was wondering where you were," he confirmed. "Was lonely without you."
"Oh, I'm sure," Charlie said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes to hide the ache in her chest. Would it ever not hurt to hear him joke about the pain she lived with everyday, knowing he didn't love her and yet still not being able to stay away from him? It always felt like he was throwing her affection back in her face. He didn't understand that he had the luxury of playing at loving her, trying on fondness like a new scarf, ready to disregard it when the material got too itchy or it started to feel like it was wound too tight.
"What," Charlie went on, nervous that her sarcasm had sounded bitter, "didn't they invite any local girls?"
"Nah, they did." He was grinning, oblivious to her sorrow. "But none of them are my favourite girl."
Charlie sighed silently and turned to face him in her chair. He was relentless with the flirting tonight. "Mabs hasn't come back from seeing Speirs yet?" she asked, forcing herself to tease, another attempt to redirect him.
Floyd rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Actually, I meant Autumn."
This finally got a genuine smile out of her. "I hate to break it to you, Floyd, but her heart's elsewhere."
"What?!" Floyd exclaimed with a dramatic gasp. "You're kidding." He clasped his hands together and pretended to stab himself in the gut, then grinned as Charlie reached over to stop him, covering his hands with her own and laughing.
"What's the time?" she wondered when her giggles had subsided.
"About 2130, if I had to guess."
"You don't have a watch?"
"What am I, the president?"
Charlie rolled her eyes. "Yes, because only presidents can wear watches."
"I don't see you wearing one."
"My wrists are too dainty for watches," she said without missing a beat. "They're much more suited to pretty bracelets."
"And mine ain't?"
"Nothing about you is dainty, Floyd."
"I'm wounded," he said in a deadpan. "You've wounded me."
"You'll live."
He shot her a grin and her heartbeat faltered.
Oh, her heart. How it ached to be near him. It was thumping erratically in her chest, so hard she thought that if she looked down she'd see it pulsing beneath her uniform. It beat like it was trying to escape her body and get to him, escape this cage that refused to give it over to him to do what he willed with it.
Willing such thoughts away, Charlie sighed and pushed herself to her feet. The sky was more darkness than it was sunset by now, and she had seen all she'd wanted to. "I suppose we should be getting down to the party."
"Don't sound so excited about it," Floyd commented as he, too, rose from his chair.
Charlie smiled as she led him inside, trusting him to shut and lock the balcony doors behind him, which he did.
"I just have to do my lipstick," she informed him over her shoulder, heading into the bathroom where her makeup was still sitting on the side. "Do you mind waiting?"
Floyd called back something muffled which she took as an assurance that he didn't, and so she uncapped her lipstick and leaned over the sink to apply it to her lips.
It felt like such a long time since she'd worn makeup. Charlie almost didn't recognise herself with it on, now, when once she'd worn it everyday. She left her freckles uncovered, unlike how she had sometimes worn her makeup back in Aldbourne, and felt a lot more like herself with them skittering across her nose and cheeks, but the definition around her eyes made them look so much brighter. She hadn't seen herself look put together in so long. No ODs, hair done, makeup on. She felt like her old self, as she'd been the day she'd left home, before the war had thrown her around like a sack of garbage.
Charlie pulled her mind away from all of that and focused on colouring her lips the bright victory red she'd chosen before she'd left home for England. Victory red seemed even more apt now than it had back then, now that they'd finally accomplished what had once seemed truly impossible; if ever there was a day to wear it then it was this, the official VE Day.
In her periphery, Charlie saw Floyd come to lean in the doorway and watch her. He crossed his arms, unabashed in his staring, and though she tried desperately not to smile, both to prevent messing up her lipstick and so that he wouldn't notice, the corners of her mouth kept quirking up every time she caught a glimpse of him.
After applying the final sweep of lipstick, Charlie put the cap back on and set it on the counter, then leaned back over it to peer closer at her lips in the mirror. Satisfied with her work, she stood up straight and blew a kiss to her reflection before turning to face Floyd in the doorway.
Floyd, of course, was smirking. "What, you'll kiss your reflection but not me?"
Charlie rolled her eyes. It was all in good fun, she knew, but she was so sick of this game he played, so sick of all the meaningless flirting. And so, to put a stop to it once and for all, she crossed the short length of the bathroom to him, placed both of her hands on his face, and pulled him into a kiss.
It had been a bad idea. Of course it had. Such a terrible idea. She knew just how badly she'd messed up as soon as she felt her lips make contact with his, as soon as she heard him make a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. How was she ever supposed to come back from this? It was all she'd wanted for months on end, to kiss him, to have him so close. How was she supposed to forget?
Charlie pulled back after several long moments, having let herself savour it before she drew away forever. She didn't give herself time to take in his expression, only caught a glimpse of his wide eyes, flushed cheeks, jaw hanging agape, before she breezed past him out of the bathroom and into the room at large.
"Alright," she declared, keeping things casual even though her heart was fluttering so fast in her chest she wouldn't have been surprised to see it roll out onto the floor at her feet. "Shall we go?" She pulled the door to the room open to emphasise her words.
Floyd didn't follow her to the door. In fact, he didn't seem to have moved a muscle since she'd kissed him.
To mask her growing mortification, Charlie tried harder to remain casual. "Are you going to be standing there for long? Because I need to lock the door."
"Freckles," was all he said.
From the doorway, Charlie turned back to him. "Yes?"
Slowly, he turned to face her. "You..."
"Me," she said, trying to make sense of his expression. His cheeks were still bright red - had she ever seen him blush before? - and his jaw still hanging agape, but there was a bright light in his eyes and a wide smile beginning to wrench his mouth wide.
"Charlie!" he exclaimed, and the smile reached its full potential. He stood there, across the room from her, beaming like he'd just won the lottery, and all of a sudden she began to question everything.
"Yes?" she asked warily.
"You kissed me."
"Yes."
His smile became impossibly wider. "You," he said, pointing at her, "just kissed -" now he turned his hand to point at himself "- me."
"Yes," she agreed.
"On the mouth," he added.
He didn't look smug, or disgusted, or like he was trying to find a way to let her down gently. Instead, he looked... happy? Overjoyed, really, but she couldn't seem to work out -
Oh.
Oh.
Now it was her turn to stutter. "Wait -" she said.
"Charlie Lancaster, get over here and shut the door behind you so I can return the favour."
Return the favour.
And thus the spell was broken.
Charlie did close the door behind her, but she didn't go to Floyd. Instead, she leaned back against the door and shut her eyes. She had to tell him, and it had to be now. She couldn't go on like this. Every time he flirted with her her heart cracked a little bit more, knowing that he didn't mean it. He needed to know how much he was hurting her without even meaning to.
"Floyd, I'm in love with you," she said, all in one breath. She kept her eyes closed and forced herself to go on. "I'm in love with you and it hurts me so badly every time you pretend to flirt with me. So please, please, don't do it anymore. I don't want anything from you, we don't need to stop being friends, but please stop pretending that you like me when you don't."
Silence fell on the room. Charlie waited for whatever he would say next with bated breath.
Eventually, the suspense was too much.
She opened her eyes to find Floyd standing stock still, exactly where he'd been when she'd closed them. The flush was gone from his cheeks, the bright smile gone from his lips, and he just gazed at her, eyes heavy, chest heaving with long breaths.
"Oh, Charlie," he said softly, starting to walk towards her. "Charlie, you've got it all wrong."
"No, don't do that," she said, misunderstanding him. "Don't dismiss my feelings."
"I'm not," he assured her, continuing with his slow steps. "I think your feelings are the most important thing in the world. My entire day depends on your feelings - my week, my life. And I have never, ever wanted to hurt you. That's not why I flirt with you." He came to a stop right in front of her, his eyes gentle and warm and unspeakably fond. "I flirt with you because I'm in love with you."
Charlie's voice emerged as a whisper, frightened to speak too loud lest she wake herself from the dream. "Don't play with me, Floyd."
In spite of her words, he smiled. "I am so in love with you, Charlie. You are my most favourite thing." His voice fell to a whisper as he implored her to believe him. "My favourite thing."
"I am?" she asked. Her heart was pounding so hard and fast she was certain he could hear it. All of her breath had been expelled from her lungs.
"You are," he confirmed.
There were hundreds of butterflies in his stomach, thousands, millions. How could it be true that she had said that and looked like she meant it? How could she love him?
"You love me?" Charlie asked.
"I do." Tentatively, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek.
"In a romantic way?"
He laughed and she wanted to bottle the sound so she could have it forever.
"Yes, Charlie," he said, smiling down at her, "in a romantic way."
She started to ask another question and he smiled and shook his head. The next moment, her words disappeared into his lips as he pressed them against hers, encouraging her into a kiss that was deeper than the one she'd given him, more certain, more brave.
He kissed her slowly, reverently, and lifted his other hand to hold her face to his. And the feeling of his lips, of his hands, of his hair falling into his face and tickling her forehead; the taste of his tongue; the smell of his cologne; all of it was everywhere. Him, everywhere.
She could have died like this.
"Tell me again," she requested when he pulled away.
She felt him smile where he was still so close. "I love you."
She pressed a long kiss against his lips and whispered, "I love you," when she pulled back.
"Oh, yeah?" he teased, and kissed her again.
Her hands were in his hair, on his shoulders, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. She couldn't get him close enough. "I love you," she breathed against his lips.
He grinned and tugged her closer. "I love you."
Another kiss, and then another, and then another. And then giggles.
"How did you not know?" Floyd asked, holding onto her waist and lifting her in a circle, just as he had yesterday when the news of victory had been fresh. How could it be that he felt even happier, even more victorious now?
"How did you not know?" she volleyed back, giggling with delight as he spun her around.
"I flirt with you all the time!" he insisted. He placed her back down very gently but still she clung to him as she found her footing, just to have an excuse to do so.
"You flirt with everyone all the time!" Charlie argued, tugging him closer to her by his shoulders. "It's just how you are!"
"No," Floyd replied evenly, grinning. "I don't."
"Yes you do," Charlie objected.
"Not for a long time, Freckles," he went on, brushing back a lock of her hair and then cupping her face. "Not since I fell in love with you."
"Which was when?"
Floyd laughed. "That part is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. Part of me wants to say Holland."
"You were kissing other women in Holland!"
Floyd scoffed, though he knew this was true, and fought to find something to say to that. "Well, I tried to kiss you in Paris and you pulled away!" And just because he could, he leaned down and kissed her now, a kiss to make up for the one she'd denied him all those many months ago.
"Because I thought you didn't mean it!" she exclaimed when he pulled back.
How much time had they wasted worrying that the other didn't mean it? How many kisses had they lost in the fear that they wouldn't be returned?
It all seemed so, so stupid now. They'd been through all of this together, all while loving each other desperately, in a romantic way, and it took the end of everything for them to finally admit it? And it had taken her, who didn't think he loved her like that, kissing him, who had never loved anyone like this, to make it happen?!
Floyd let out a delirious laugh and kissed her forehead hard. "I am so in love with you," he said, needing her to hear it, believe it, know it. "Tell me you know that now. Tell me you feel it and there ain't a single doubt in your mind that it's true."
"It's so sudden," Charlie said, still smiling even as she let out a long, unsteady breath. "I can't go from not believing it to believing it with so much certainty in just a matter of minutes."
This made sense to him, but it pained him terribly to think she didn't understand how much he adored her, and even more so to think of how long she'd gone honestly believing his heart didn't beat simply in the hope that one day it would get to beat alongside hers.
"I love you," he said, with as much conviction as he could muster. "I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it to believe that it's true."
Charlie breathed a silent sigh. She wanted to believe him, wanted it so desperately her heart was squeezing like it would refuse to pump blood around her body until it could trust that this, whatever was between them, was permanent. Was forever. "I don't just want to be your woman of the hour, Floyd," she said quietly, a confession. She was laid bare before him now, entirely vulnerable. He could use this information against her so very easily, and yet -
And yet she trusted that he wouldn't.
"Charlie..." Floyd shook his head, his eyes earnest and warm and tender as they gazed deeply into her own. "You're not the woman of the hour." That crooked smile, all sincerity. "You're the woman of my life."
And there was just no way not to believe him. Not when he was smiling at her like that.