𝙓𝙓𝙑𝙄𝙄𝙄.
CHARLIE (PERKINS)
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IT WAS REALLY ironic for me to date a therapist.
All therapists (aside from me, apparently) were calm and gentle creatures. Charlie was a perfect fit for that narrative. Everything about him was soft, his eyes, his touch and the smile he gave me as I approached him outside of my apartment complex.
He'd been waiting for me, stooped against the Seattle night as a heavy, wet wind picked up through the streets.
"Hey, stranger."
Voice smooth as honey and that same easiness about him that I supposed I'd fallen in love with at one time.
One arm held a duffle bag, the other a white plastic bag that looked suspiciously like food. Even the hug he gave me was delicate as if I was a precious ornament that he couldn't bear to break.
I smiled into his shoulder, breathing in his cologne. It was warm, settled comfortably at the back of my throat and almost made tears rush to my eyes— these were the sort of memories that were welcome.
Flashes of me and Charlie sharing an apartment in Boston, domestic healthy moments that made my chest feel less tight. When we pulled apart my skin screamed at the lack of warmth.
But Charlie lingered, he pressed his lips into the crown of my head, erupting goosebumps across my body. I felt every syllable against my scalp. "It's been a while, B."
It has, I wanted to say, but my lips felt too cold to talk.
The weather in Seattle tonight was abysmal. Gales tousled the two of us together and Charlie had to slam his hand onto the top of his head, stopping his baseball cap from catching on the wind— he always wore the stupid hat in the rain, black with blue and red for the New England Patriots. I chuckled and hastened open the apartment door- holding it open for Charlie to enter.
He looked around, his lips upturning at the corners. The light in the foyer lit his face; god, I'd forgotten how pretty he was. He was the sort of man you'd see on the front of a brochure. His smile was stunning, the product of an adolescent plagued with braces, he'd once told me. He was the sort of guy my mother would've loved me to bring home.
I faltered at the thought- wow, how to kill the mood, Beth.
We had a light conversation as we took the stairs to my apartment. Charlie told me about his mother, telling me that he'd surprised her back in Boston with the help of his older brother.
He asked me about Archer and I spoke indifferently, saying that he was doing well- "Thanks for the hotel room, by the way, I'm going to have to repay you somewhere along the line-" Charlie had almost been offended, rolling his eyes as we entered into the apartment, "Don't be stupid, Beth. It was the least I could do."
Luckily, he didn't notice as I kicked a few messy things that I'd forgotten about this morning— an unwashed coffee mug into the sink, a dirty pair of underwear underneath the couch, a used tissue lobbed in the direction of the bin. In fact, when I turned around. To face him, he was completely distracted.
He actually faltered on the threshold, noticing the interior of my apartment. A look of recognition fell across his face. His smile grew.
"It looks like Boston in here." I hadn't noticed it before. I shot a glance around as I set my belongings down on the counter-top. I supposed that he was right.
The apartment I'd shared with him had been full of exposed brick, the sort of aesthetic that would make hipsters have an out-of-body experience.
But we'd tried to furnish it as nicely as we could, picking up bits and bobs from thrift stores across Boston (it'd been Charlie's twilight years where every wealthy rich man rebelled against his money and had tried to refuse the money his parents had given him, me, on the other hand... I hadn't had any other choice.)
My Seattle apartment carried that same mismatched feel to it. I wasn't sure whether it was the fact that I hadn't really had time to put any thought into my furnishings and had really just picked up the cheapest things I'd been able to find, or whether we'd really just lived in a dump back in Boston.
"I guess so," I commented idly, momentarily struck by the fact that it really did have the same feeling like the last apartment.
I could see that by the beam on Charlie's face he found it really charming. Meanwhile, I was realising that it was less about Boston and more about my personal tastes; in my opinion, this apartment reminded me more of my childhood home. But I didn't feel like raining on Charlie's parade.
Charlie's first move was to crack open the food he'd bought. My stomach grumbled in appreciation as he started grabbing boxes and lining them across the countertop.
"I got here a little earlier than I thought so I went looking for somewhere to get takeout..." He busied himself with the boxes as I fished out what little plates and cutlery I'd bought for the apartment. With Charlie staying here I'd definitely have to expand my two dinner plates and one full set of cutlery collection. "Who knew that Seattle has a little Indonesian restaurant a few blocks over-"
The smell of the food filled the air and I sighed dreamily; talk about bringing back memories. I gave Charlie a long wide smile and he chuckled to himself. If there was one thing I really liked about doing relief work, it was digging through all the rubble and despair and finding the bare bones of culture underneath. I'd been a sucker for Indonesian food. I'd briefly stayed with a host family in Jakarta and it'd been some of the best weeks of my life.
"I've fucking missed you," I groaned loudly in appreciation. Charlie looked delighted. I leant over the counter-top and kissed him quickly on the cheek before diving haphazardly for the little takeout boxes.
"I've missed you too," He replied, his voice softer than mine. I didn't pay attention to the slight flicker in his smile, just began piling up food onto my plate and drowning myself in the sweet and spice. "So, how's the hospital going, with the merger and all?"
"God, it's an interesting dynamic, that's for sure." I was far more concentrated on my food than the conversation. "Everyone's shitting themselves about being fired and all of the new hires from Mercy West are weird."
His eyebrow quirked. "How so?"
"Well, there's this one that just seems to run her mouth constantly..." My face twisted as I thought about the girl Eli had picked out. Bitchzilla. She reminded me of myself. I hated that about her. "But yeah... it has been fun. I've had a really shit time."
I didn't particularly want to talk about the merger. The thought of it exhausted me. I didn't want to talk about work. I didn't want to talk about Seattle. I didn't want to talk about Archer's recovery or Addison or anything that came along with those topics. I was tired. I wanted to sit here and eat my food and fall asleep pressed against Charlie's chest like the old times.
So Charlie spoke. I asked him about what it had been like after I'd left and Charlie had filled me in with what I'd missed. He was surprised when I mentioned that Bateman had come to Seattle, specifically Seattle Grace- "I never thought he'd be able to find Seattle, talk about move here"- and that brought us into an area of conversation that Charlie appeared to be rather uncomfortable with.
"Do people know I'm here?" Charlie asked indifferently, although at a quick glance, I noticed the tension in his shoulders. I hid a smile.
He tried to play it off by shovelling Nasi Goreng into his mouth, to the extent that the keycap almost splattered down the shirt he was wearing. My chuckle could not be restrained.
"Yeah, I've told all of my friends. All like three of them."
"Derek?"
"Yep." I mused in amusement. "He would include my list of friends."
Charlie rolled his eyes but he looked noticeably stressed with the prospect of meeting my family.
I'd met Charlie's family before, back when I didn't feel like flying back to Connecticut for the holidays so I'd be dragged along to the Perkins family. His mother was sweet, his father a source of witty conversation and his brother was as aloof as I'd expected.
Andrew had been curt, polite and exactly the same as Charlie had described him to be— he'd reminded me of Archer.
But Charlie wasn't going to meet my parents, he wasn't going to have to go through hours of prep as I detailed what to do and what not to do in front of Addison.
I didn't have to tell him that Archer would appear arrogant and cold at first and that that was just an obstacle for my brother to gauge what sort of guy he was. I didn't have to tell him that my mother would just talk and talk and talk and drown him in conversation until he was clinging onto my arm like Leo DiCaprio at the end of Titanic.
He was just meeting Derek, yet, somehow I got the feeling that meeting Derek Shepherd was far more terrifying than anything else he'd ever face in our relationship.
Maybe it was because he knew how much Derek meant to me and how much he perceived I meant to Derek.
Or maybe it was because wherever Derek went in Seattle, Mark Sloan wasn't too far behind.
It'd been twenty minutes and the food was long gone. Charlie's order had been extensive, which translated into a lot of leftovers for the weekend and I'd honestly never been so thankful for him.
We sat across the small dining table that I'd found at a Goodwill (I'd managed to convince Eli to drive me in his little Nissan Micra and then had a migraine trying to fit it in the trunk), Charlie drinking one of the alcohol-free wines that he'd brought with him and me already on my fourth coffee of the day.
I nursed my mug as Charlie insisted on washing up with a cheeky smile. I shook my head lightly, smiling at how the dynamic between us just seemed to restart without any disruptions.
I'd washed up, Charlie had cooked- that's how it had worked in Boston. My catastrophic kitchen career had resulted in me being demoted to the dishwasher. I'd been too relieved to feel insulted.
My mood dipped slightly as I thought about my day. I'd been looking forwards to Charlie coming to Seattle from the moment he'd sent me the confirmation for his ticket. But between Izzie's disappearance and Mark's grand reveal— I just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. Charlie noticed, he paused, up to his elbows in soapy suds. I heard the sound of his hands drawing out of the sink and the slap of a towel as he wiped off the bubbles.
"Rough day?"
Instantly, I felt terrible. "Yeah- uh, I'm sorry- I'm totally distracted-"
"It's okay," Charlie replied and I dipped my head down as his tone wafted too close into therapist territory. Again, Charlie being ever-so-observant, he noticed my reaction. The floorboards creaked as he ambled towards me. "You want to talk about it?"
His tone was noticeably more personable.
My initial reaction was no.
No, I didn't want to talk about the fact that I was worried about Izzie Stevens, taking off and leaving her husband in the dust while she still had chemotherapy to attend.
No, I didn't want to talk about how Mark had decided to spring on me Amelia's betrayal.
I didn't want to be the sort of girlfriend that complained about their exes. I didn't want to stir something up in the perfect little domestic world I'd built with Charlie back in Boston and was currently resuming.
"I was hoping Seattle would be less stressful..." I stared at our hands. "But it's really not."
"Did you ever imagine you'd be working in a hospital like that?" His words caused me to sigh softly. Of course, I did, it was all I'd ever wanted— but I was just in the wrong career completely.
My fingers squirmed slightly and Charlie let them go, his hand going to the small of my back. After a few moments, I subconsciously felt my body fold into his, my head resting on his shoulder. It dark in the apartment, I felt inclined to turn on a light.
Light?
Oh, fuck.
Light.
"I bought candles," I muttered, realising that I'd completely forgotten about the fact that I'd actually tried to make some plans for tonight.
I'd gone to Walmart (again, Eli had begrudgingly acted as my taxi driver amongst comments on me getting the bus) and found a few things that I associated with romance.
"I got candles and roses to try and make everything romantic-" I laughed at myself and shook my head, "God- I really forgot about that- my one chance to be fucking romantic and-"
Charlie was beaming. "Really?"
"Yeah, I wanted to have a little celebration about you coming to Seattle," I glanced up to see him looking down at me with a bright expression on his face. I paused. "It's weird seeing you all clean and shaved-"
I reached a hand up and ran my hand across his jawline, scrunching my nose at how smooth his face was. Charlie squirmed under my touch, letting out a breathy laugh as he, too, rubbed his chin.
"Earlier, when I asked you about Derek knowing whether I was here..." I felt his chest tense up and I grew uncomfortable in response. I knew where he was going with this, so I braced myself. "Does the other guy know?"
Mark. If I'd killed the mood earlier, Charlie had mopped the floor with it.
"Yes," I mumbled, tugging my bottom lip in between my teeth. I felt Charlie's lung deflate in a long exhale. He pressed his lips against the crown of my head; his exhales sent shivers across my body. "Don't worry about him."
A pregnant pause filled the air and it felt cold to me. A dark, black-hole opened at top of my head, right where his lips had touched my hair.
"I'm not." Charlie breathed out and I believed him.
He was such a gentle-minded person. He was so vocal about trusting me and believing in me— this wasn't the first time that I was laboured by the realisation that I didn't deserve a guy like him.
We fell into a comfortable silence. Charlie's arm around me, my head fitting on his chest in a way that felt overwhelmingly natural. But still, a thought persisted at the back of my head: Mark was just metres away in the next apartment. Charlie didn't know that.
No. I wouldn't tell Charlie now. Not yet. I wouldn't let Mark Sloan violate this intimate, warm moment. I couldn't focus on that now- focus on Charlie.
"I've missed you."
My confession was soft and I almost thought Charlie didn't hear it at first. It was more of an exhale than anything. My hands had travelled up to his hair; he'd long lost the Patriots cap and his dark hair was dishevelled but still flawless in the way that only Charlie seemed to be. The moment felt intimate, soft and I suddenly realised how starved I had been for moments like these.
"I've missed you too."
We kissed until he was tracing lines onto my skin and I was clearing cushions from the couch.
An hour later when our eyelids were heavy and we were just lying there, holding each other, I pressed a kiss to his jaw and smiled despite all of the stress that was around me. His thumb circled goosebumps on my arm, his bare chest pressed against my back, I played with his fingers and dug my toes into the cushions at my feet.
"I love you, you know that right?"
He murmured it against my skin. I felt my chest get tight.
I smiled and exhaled a soft, short breath. "I love you too."