𝙓𝙓𝙄𝙓.
A STORE-BOUGHT PIE
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CHARLIE LIKED TO cook.
It was a habit he'd picked up from his mother, a literal domestic goddess of the Food Network.
Donna's Delights had been a hit since the late 90's, making Charlie very much ingrained into culinary history. Our apartment back in Boston had been littered with recipe books, some his mothers, some niche little hardbacks in languages I couldn't even read. Sometimes he'd just chuck whatever the hell he could and throw it in.
Charlie was stupidly amazing at cooking.
I, however, burnt my toast every time.
I woke up to him tenderising meat in the kitchen at 6am. At first, I'd thought someone was being murdered in my apartment, between all the thuds and bangs, but then I'd woken up a bit more and remembered where I was.
Seattle. I'm in Seattle and Charlie Perkins is going to burn my apartment building down and serve it on a platter.
I padded out of the bedroom, yawning as I stretched; the smell of coffee enveloped me. It was almost as if he'd envisioned me waking up— a mug sat on the counter opposite him, steaming and hot.
"What did that steak ever do to you?" He chuckled lightly as I pressed a kiss to his cheek, staring down at the mess he'd made on the board. His apology for waking me up was chased away with a hurried shake of my head. "Oh no, don't apologise to me, apologise to that poor bit of meat- he looks as though he's seen better days."
I managed to put my coffee cup down just before Charlie kissed me long and hard, as if he'd been waiting all morning for me to wake up just to do so. Last night, he'd slept beside me, just as he had the night before, and had made me promise to help peel potatoes in the morning. But this wasn't potato peeling.
If this was, I'd been doing it wrong my whole life.
Somehow, Charlie's method of cooking meant that I was on the counter-top beside his sodden hamburger patty, topless and out of breath.
With his hair messy and my old Gerald Way t-shirt scrunched in his hands, he pulled back and traced his finger across my tattoo just under my left breast.
"I hope Derek likes me."
I let out a groan. "You sure know how to kill the mood, Perkins." He smiled against my shoulder, breathing softly against my collar bone as his lips pressed against my skin. I played with the hair at the back of his head, managing to sneak a mouthful of coffee. "You'll be fine, I mean, look- your family loved me and I'm a train wreck. Besides, Addison's not here and Derek isn't that important to win over."
Charlie raised his head to narrow his eyes. "Really?"
"Yeah, I mean, he didn't come looking for my blessing when he got married to Meredith." I patted him on the cheek, thinking back to the night Derek and Meredith got married. It'd been the night George had died and the night that Izzie had almost died too. "In fact, he didn't really give me the heads up at all- he just kinda did it."
He cocked his head to the side and I ran my fingers through his hair.
He reminded me of a little dog, like the cocker spaniel my mother had adopted once on a whim (it'd been a fad for five seconds and then she'd palmed it off on her brother in North Carolina). I quirked a brow at him, not quite understanding why he was suddenly very quiet. He rested his chin on my thigh, thinking for a few moments.
"It's a good thing I didn't ask for Derek's blessing then- for either of the proposals."
He said it so casually- my breathing got caught at the back of my throat. He seemed to stare at me for a few moments, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
I stared back for a while, noticing how the topic made him equally nervous.
"Mhmm."
A breathy exhale that was a little too unsettled; he looked up at me at that sound. There seemed to be a moment in which my brain folded in on itself. In which my skin crawled and Eli's words floated across my train of thought. I felt very cold, goosebumps rising on my bare shoulders.
"You okay?" He asked offhandedly, as if he wanted to press on the topic but wasn't sure.
I could see it in his eyes, a screaming, forever present question that he'd said twice now. I looked away quickly, breaking the eye contact.
"Mhmm." I repeated.
I noticed how he sighed lightly at my answer. He didn't say anything, just helped me hop down off the counter and accepted the coffee mug as I gingerly pushed it into his hands. Snatching back my shirt, I sauntered off to the bedroom to prepare for my run. Later, I planned to have an excruciatingly cold shower, one that would wash away how disgusting I felt.
Selfish.
"Just like Boston," Charlie said with a smile as I was on my way out, freshly dressed in my sneakers, jacket and in the process of slipping on my headphones. Dubassy was already playing softly in one ear. "Unable to sit still, always running and moving."
I let out a laugh that echoed around the apartment with a tinny quality in my wake. I didn't sense any maliciousness in his tone, yet his words seemed to bury deep into my skin and latch on.
Always running. Fuck.
I'd be hearing that in the place of silence for weeks to come.But I paused for a moment, a spontaous thought cracking through me like a strike of lightning. I teetered on the doorway of the bedroom and turned, gazing across at Charlie as he continued his cooking, oblivious to the fact that I'd stopped.
He looked so peaceful without me.
(Fuck.)
•••
The guests arrived on time.
Well, mostly.
Callie and Arizona arrived first with their short commute from across the hall. From the moment they waltzed through the door, Charlie snapped into the perfect host mode, something that was so spookily similar to my sister.
He greeted them by kissing them on both cheeks- "Exotic," Arizona had giggled before I'd dryly pointed out that Charlie was from Boston- and had accepted Callie's offering of wine and a bottle of lemonade.
Meredith and Derek came next, sporting some sorry looking muffins that Meredith said that Izzie had baked at the beginning of last week and they just really needed to get rid of them for Alex's sake. They brought some store-bought entrees too, which garnered Charlie's approval.
The two men exchanged a crisp hand-shake that caused me to sigh as I poured drinks. Charlie's adams apple bobbed noticeably but when Derek turned away to hand his coat to Callie, he shot me a cheeky wink.
Bastard.
My friends of the not-surgeon variety arrived all at once with Eli leading the pack. He and Mable brought a peace-offering for Charlie: a cheeseboard that was so large that almost bought tears to his eyes. They each got a hug for that.
Their arrival was flanked by a reluctant looking Cristina, who appeared to have been literally dragged in through the door by Owen. She blatantly ignored Charlie as he went to greet her and instead spent the first five minutes of the evening talking to a slightly jostled Teddy Altman.
Alex didn't turn up. I didn't expect anything less. Neither did Izzie, sticking true to her word that she'd be gone in a blink of an eye once Dr. Singer was sorted.
"How am I doing?"
Charlie shot me a smile as he ferried around drinks, juggling bottles of lemonade and a handful of Meredith and Derek's entrees. He was dressed in the smartest clothes he'd brought to Seattle- a suit jacket and a patterned shirt that was less Upper East Side and more Upper Walmart Aisle Seven. I kissed him on the cheek.
"If you ever feel like dropping the PHD, hospitality would be the one for you."
His wink was quick. "The only person I'm prepared to wait on is you, B."
My body let out a loud, almost automated laugh as he took off into the little gathering, dishing out the red solo cups and flashing his host smile that came (most probably) patented by the Perkins family.
Meanwhile, my chest grew tight and I found myself needing to take a long breath.Dammit.
Eli seemed to appear from no where, a petulant Mable materialising across the bar, both following Charlie's absence.
They were both dressed a little too casual, with Eli only managing to break out his smart shoes that I knew he saved for special occasions (apparently they'd gone through his father's two weddings and three dates and one booty call).
"You look as though you've just seen a ghost."
Eli's voice was somehow drier than he'd ever managed before, causing me to kiss my teeth shortly. He had a non-alcoholic beer in his hand and didn't seem too happy about it. Mable, on the other hand, just looked bored.
"I think I have." I said meekly, dropping my gaze to the salad prep I was supposed to be doing last-minute. In one hand, I held an oversized celery stick that I felt as though Charlie had overpaid for at Wholefoods. "It's my ghosts of proposals past, all coming to bite me in the ass."
Almost simultaneously, their eyebrows raised.
"He proposed again?"
"No," I said, my voice on the breathy side as Kyle Bateman finally, and loudly, arrived.
Mable was momentarily distracted by his appearance, a long, disgusted sigh fell past her lips and she muttered something not very PG-13 under her breath.
"But," I sighed, "he brought it up."
"Shit," Eli said, looking as though he was rather enjoying his fake beer from the long drags he was taking on it. "No wonder you're shaking. You've got cold feet and the poor guy probably hasn't even bought a ring yet."
I shot him a look that I hope gave him at least a little bit of incentive to shut up. Mable, on the other hand, seemed to grin to herself, chuckling under her breath- that earned her a glare too, a short, livid one that made her throw up her hands in surrender.
Eli just shrugged to himself an ate a rogue cherry tomato that was in the process of rolling to freedom.
"You're really complaining about getting a proposal?" Mable looked very unimpressed with me once her smile had withered away. "I can't even get a text back."
"Well..."
I paused, slapping Eli's hand away to stop him from stealing more food. Charlie briefly swanned past, caught in what appeared to be avid conversation with Derek; he gave me a bright smile and carried on.
"It's complicated."
My answer was too vague and Mable knew it. "I don't think it is, you like boy, boy definitely likes you."
"Mable- I don't think it's polite to presume-" Eli said.
"I still think you're overcomplicating things," Mable didn't seem to buy my story; Eli rolled his eyes. She was too blunt, too flippant for my liking. I just sighed, finishing the salad prep and tossing it all into a bowl. "It really is simple- boy likes girl, boy proposes- no complications-"
"Yeah well, boy doesn't exactly know how fucked up girl actually is," My comment was made in passing, in a low tone that caught both of them off-guard. Even Eli seemed to pause, his eyes wide as I nonchalantly pick up the salad bowl; "If you'll excuse me I need to host-"
We all took our places at the table.
We'd made a mismatched train of surfaces; my own, battered Goodwill table had been pushed against a few assorted end tables and Callie and Arizona had been kind enough to lend me their own dining table.
Naturally, Charlie sat at the head of the table, oozing charisma. He seemed to get on nicely with everyone, serving food with a gilded smile. He distributed the vegetarian options and even Mable seemed to warm up slightly. Then came the toast.
It was only as we all raised our glasses that I realised that Lexie wasn't here. That was a red flag I missed.
"To Seattle," Charlie chorused like he was a politician charming the nation.
The words echoed around my small apartment. I drank my lemonade quickly and desperately, conscious of Eli's heavy gaze on me. When I finally looked over at the man I'd grown to consider my close friend, he was squinting at me like he was stuck in some old timey Western Movie.
I hate Old Western Movies.
"So, how did you and Charlie meet, Beth?"
I was pulled into conversations that felt cliché, that felt uncomfortable to the point that the discomfort is comforting. Charlie answered obediently on every cue- I threw glances in his direction and have to remind myself that this man, this human puppy of a man, was so shiny and precious, like a little rock that I'd added to my collection.
Only that thought would lead me down a dark and twisted avenue; he was part of a doomed legacy, like Bluebeard's wives but without the... death.
Although one of my exes had died. Tragic overdose. Brown student with a tendency to snort things he shouldn't have. But that was beyond the issue and getting off topic.
I supposed that it was nice, in a way, to have everything both figuratively and non-figuratively laid out on the table.
Charlie's cooking was truly beautiful. He'd once joked that his mother had taught him to a put a piece of himself into every meal he'd made- "I usually just spit into it but blood, sweat and tears also work". He relayed the same joke in response to the compliments, thanking everyone with a light blush over the tops of his cheeks. I smiled all the while, rubbing his arm proudly and trying to chase out the shadows from the back of my head.
I was surrounded by people who were friendly (even if Mable definitely wasn't feeling friendly and Bateman was already too drunk to really have any emotions at all) and I had my little knitted family here. Derek, Charlie and Eli, if he was willing to stop his half-ass Clint Eastwood impression. Oh, and not to forget the warm complimentary extension to Meredith, too.
I'd insisted on taking the dishes and Eli sprung to his feet, demanding that he help. I gave him a ruthless smile, spouting crap about how he was the guest and he should sit down, but the guy was adamant.
Really, adamant- to the point where Charlie caught my hand as I passed, balancing dishes on one hand and tangled my fingers with his at the end of the other.
"I like him." He whispered, as if we were in kindergarten and he was my child begging me to schedule a playdate.
I smiled at him, but the expression was short lived as I moved into the kitchen and faced my inevitable intervention.
Eli was already there; he lingered just out of sight from the dining table and had his arms on his hips. From the way he was stood, I could tell that he was about to serve me a Archer-grade lecture.
Why had I thought it would be a good idea to befriend someone so similar to me?
I knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it.
"Fess up."
I violently shook my head, my hair tossing like the salad from earlier. "No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"My lips are sealed."
"What aren't you telling him? What aren't you telling me?"
Eli's earlier regard and mindfulness for me seemed to fall flat on its face. I scrunched my face up when my back was turned to him- oh god, I shouldn't have said anything. I'd been too caught up in stupid salad tossing and Charlie's pristine little face.
"Beth-"
"Please, Eli, just drop it."
I turned around to face him, my face stoic and my voice calm as I thought about all of those anger management and emotion-management classes I'd done through out therapy. His eyes were skeptical and he looked like he was about to drop it, but then something happened.
"Is this about Canada? Did something happen-"
He was about to speak, but we were both caught off-guard by the sound of a quiet knock against the door. I pressed my lips together tightly.
I shook my head and Eli nodded slowly, as if he didn't quite where to go from there.
"I'm a shitty person, Eli." I whispered as Charlie, forever the host, made it to my apartment door. I craned my neck to look back at the table, my eyes skimming over the empty chairs. Huh, maybe Helen's cat wasn't in mortal turmoil? "Mark doesn't know about Canada but Charlie- he knows about Canada but not about New York— I don't talk about some of the shit in New York- Do you see my dilemma?"
The door to my apartment opened and a light airy voice filled the air. The people at the dining table all turned and smiled at the person in the doorway. I recognised the voice- Lexie, apologising for being late! But, she brought desert- Apple pie, store-bought, but earnest. I smiled at the thought and Eli and I both moved past our conversation. I shook out the tension in my shoulders, shoving plate after plate into the sink.
But...
Then one person became two.
"I hope we're not intruding."
For fuck sake.
"We could smell the food from next door."
For fucking fucks sake.
"No, it's no problem, the more the merrier- I'm Charlie."
For FUCK FUCK FUCKING SAKE.
"Oh yeah, I've heard a lot about you. I'm Mark Sloan."
"Ah- for fucks sake!"
The last one was me. Yes, aloud.
Slicing my finger open on a broken plate.
"Oh hell no."
The last last one was Eli, staring at the two of them with a scowl blazing on his face and one hand already clutching a towel around my bleeding finger.