A/N First poly fic because its about dang time. Charlie/Matthew/Lucien, nose bleeds, angst.
If you asked Charlie Davis, he would say he was very lucky. He sighed pleasantly and tucked himself closer to Matthew on the couch. It was cold as anything outside, just one of those days when the grass was half frozen and the rain froze into sleet. It was warmer in the house, but barely. Matthew had a fireplace in his livingroom with a fire dancing pleasantly behind the grate.
Charlie and Matthew were both wrapped up in a large blanket, watching Game of Champions on the television. It's Matthew's favorite. Charlie couldn't care less – it was obviously rigged, and he found the hosts annoying – but Matthew liked it, and Charlie liked Matthew. Lucien was in the kitchen, making something for them to eat. Which could be good or bad.
Since he moved in with Matthew, Charlie has been attempting to convince him to eat something other then meat and three veg, which, if he understands, is the only thing he's been eating for the last twenty years, bar maybe the few times Lucien had coaxed him into other food. Charlie felt Matthew slip an arm around his shoulders in an almost protective way. He likely didn't even notice he'd done it, he's so engrossed in the show. Game of Champions time was family time. Unless it wasn't. Which was most of the time.
He feels a bit unsettled, thinking about it like that. He lives with Matthew these days because it's easier. Matthew needed help, Charlie could provide it. Rose could get her own place. Lucien still lived at home with Jean. Matthew had confided in him that Jean was going to end up taking him. Charlie objected to Jean taking anyone. If Lucien left it was of his own accord. Jean wasn't to know about this complex spiderweb they called a relationship. How could she? Still: It was hard to only see Lucien here every so often.
It was hard to come to terms with the fact that this was impermeant. It was so wonderful that Charlie would like for it to last forever. If he could wake up every morning with Matthew and Lucien then he's convinced his life would be exponentially better. But he knows as well as the other two, that it doesn't work like that. Perhaps in some other life. Some other year. Some other Lucien, Matthew, and Charlie are happy together in some other year. He knows this and it burns him inside. Matthew doesn't seem to notice his internal monologue and instead hums along with the theme to Game of Champions. It's comforting, more than anything else.
He had known Matthew was the most apprehensive about him entering the relationship. Matthew could barely even tolerate his own homosexuality, but polygamy? Charlie isn't one to beat around the bush – They aren't normal. Normal relationships consisted of one man, and one woman who got married and had kids. They were the opposite of normal. Matthew seemed more aware of that than anyone else in the relationship was.
Charlie sighed softly and Matthew glanced at him.
"You alright?"
"Yeah. Just. Comfortable." If he believed it or not, Charlie doesn't know. But he turns his attention back to the television so he presumes he hasn't been found out quite yet.
Dinner was a fairly typical affair. Matthew complained, but ended up eating whatever it was Lucien has prepared. It was some kind of soup, warm and salty, and full of crunchy leafy things he doesn't know the name of. Lucien talks, as he always does. The man seems to have to fill any silence with sound, much to Matthew's chagrin. Charlie doesn't mind it so much. It's nice, actually.
"And these are called Bok-Choy, I had to get them from the Golden Crow especially." He explained, taking a sip from the drink he had on the table. Charlie may not know much about alcoholic beverages, he presumed it was single malt. Matthew only drank what he called 'the good stuff' and despite his best efforts, Charlie struggled to choke down more than a mouthful at the time. He'd take shandies any day. He hasn't been drunk since he graduated the police academy and got ruined with his peers. The following hangover was enough to make him swear off the stuff forever. That and the memory of throwing up. A lot.
"Of course, we don't have a lot of the spices that I would have used if we lived in China, so I had to do some study to find acceptable substitutions, you know." He said, perhaps able to sense the taste of uncertainty in the air. It being Matthew's house, he sits at the head of the table. Lucien sits next to him, and under the table smooths a hand over his thigh. Charlie turns to him and offers a small smile. He's unable to shake the uneasiness. Matthew is eating in silence, which is not out of the ordinary. He's not a talkative man. Neither is Charlie. A lot of the time they spent together is spent in silence. Which suited Charlie just fine.
Lucien lapsed into silence, taking the time to stab a leafy green with his fork. Usually, he bemoans the use of the fork, and on several occasions, he's attempted to teach Charlie how to use chopsticks. It was roughly as useful as their attempts to get him to drink whiskey. Charlie is unable to shake his unsettled feeling.
…
Charlie had ended up on the left part of the bed. Which was good, actually. Pressing himself free from Matthew's arms, and sat on the side of the bed. He's not so concerned as he might be with wandering around undressed, but it's still cold and he has no interested in freezing to death. He found his boxers on the floor and pulled them back on. They didn't always sleep in the same bed. Charlie has his own room that he's supposed to be paying for where he sleeps sometimes when he doesn't feel like being crushed in a dog pile.
He wandered through the house eventually ended up in the living room. It's chilly. Moving to the fireplace, he pushed the gate aside, and poked the dying embers with the long metal poker he's sure could be used as a weapon in a pinch. The embers gasped a dying gasp, the wooden husk spits out orange dancing sparks as it collapsed. Setting the poker down again, and grabbed a large piece of wood from the basket that he had assumed up until a few nights ago to be decorative. The rekindled fire licks excitedly at the new wood. Charlie stands, and then pushed the grate back in the way of the fire and stepped away. Still chilly, he wandered over to Lawson's only interesting architectural feature, a window seat.
He opened the bottom cabinet and produced a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Matthew has no idea Charlie knows where he keeps his stash. Using his teeth to hold the cigarette still, he lit it and took a deep drag. The wooden frame of the window is littered with small circle burn, probably from Matthew. Charlie shut his eyes for a moment and sighed softly. He still hasn't been able to shake the feeling of uneasiness from his system.
Eventually, he feels another body join him on the window seat, he can tell it's Lucien. He opens his eyes slowly. Lucien is looking at him curiously.
"Do you make a habit of sitting alone in the middle of the night?"
"No." He said, softly. "Just tonight." Outside, the hail is pounding down on the ground, and on the roof. Lucien carefully puts an arm around his shoulders. He's more dressed than Charlie, leaning towards a dressing gown. Like Matthew, he didn't care for showing off any of his scars. Charlie was privileged to be privy to them.
"You've been acting strange all night. You hardly said a word at dinner." Lucien observes and pressed a small kiss to Charlie's left cheek. There is barely enough room for them both. Lucien must be half off the chair, but he doesn't seem to mind.
"I'm okay." He says, taking another drag from his cigarette.
"Charlie!" Lucien exclaims. Charlie looks up alert sudden.
"What?!"
"Your nose!" Reaching up with one hand to brush his septum, Charlie pulled it away to reveal that indeed, his nose was bleeding. Which was bad. His nose usually only bled when he was really worried about something. Lucien is moving forward holding out his dressing gown so Charlie can use it to mop up the blood as if he has some right. It all bubbles over. The anxiety, the stress, the anger, the uneasiness.
"Put your head back, pinch your nose." Lucien insisted. Charlie pushed him away suddenly, blood making it's way down his chin and onto his chest. He clambers off the chair and onto the floor.
"Charlie!" Lucien calls out again stumbling after him.
"No! Fuck off!" Charlie yelled back, tilting his head back and pinching his nose.
"I just want to help!" He insists. When he gets too close, Charlie shoves him away and stumbles towards the couch
"I know how to deal with my own fucking nose!" He yelled, stumbling right into Matthew.
The very groggy but also very concerned Matthew had made his way into the room, probably after he heard Charlie yelling. He probably sees something different to what Charlie sees. Charlie has blood all over him, and there's blood on his hands, and blood on Lucien's chest from when Charlie pushed him.
"What the fuck is going on?" He demanded as Charlie stumbled to the couch, keeping his head tilted back. He can feel the blood making its way down his throat.
"Why don't you ask Jean's fucking boyfriend?" He demanded, ignoring the burning hot tears that were making their way down his face. Lucien, or what Charlie can see of him out of the corner of his eye, looks utterly devastated. Matthew is caught between comforting Lucien and trying to help him mop up the blood that is on his teeth and turning tacky on his chest.
Lucien, never one to tell if someone should be touched or not like a sensible human being dropped onto the couch next to him. Matthew quickly sits between them before Lucien can put a hand on him, for which Charlie is grateful. There's no telling that Lucien would not have had that hand for long after it touched him. Matthew is not normally the diplomatic one. Truth be told they don't usually need a diplomatic one.
"How about." He begins, "We wait for Charlie's nose to stop bleeding, then we talk like adults." He asks, and gently touches one of Charlie's shoulders.
Charlie allows it but doesn't comment.
"That sounds like a good idea." Lucien agrees. "I think I'm going to get something to drink." Matthew stands as well.
"I'm going to get dressed. You…Try not to get blood on everything." It's a bit late for that, Charlie wants to say but he doesn't.
They leave him alone until his nose stops. It takes a long time and he does his best not to think for the duration of it. When he does calm down a bit, he feels bad. It wasn't Lucien's fault that they were unpermenant. He was out of line to be talking to him like that. He just wanted to help, Charlie thought, wiping wet blood onto his boxers. But now they had to have a talk about it. It was how they dealt with every problem. They talked, negotiated, and moved on. It was the way it worked, every damn time.
It was how they discussed Charlie's entry into the relationship initially. A three-hour discussion that seemingly went from an emotional high to low too high again. It was how they talked about sex, rumors and even what to do if something happened to one of them. He wandered to the window seat. The cigarette he'd dropped had burned a hole in Matthew's seat cover. He tossed it out the window into the hail, not interested in burning the house down. Thankfully, it hadn't caught fire. One could never be too careful, though.
Knowing he couldn't delay it anymore, he made his way into the kitchen. Matthew and Lucien were drinking tea and silent. His dressing gown, the one he'd inherited with Matthew, is draped over the back of his chair.
"Would you like to shower first?" Lucien asks, as Charlie tugs it on and ties the belt as quickly as he could.
"No. I'd rather just get this over with." He said, dropping into his seat. The tea is still steaming, made just how he likes it, which frankly annoys him more than anything else.
Charlie looks over at the other two. Matthew seems subdued, perhaps thinking about how Charlie has exposed their thoughts they'd tried to keep hidden. Lucien looks heartbroken, probably because Charlie thinks he's been unfaithful. He does feel bad. He doesn't like causing this kind of trouble. But he seems to be in it a lot these days. No one seems to know where to even begin. Charlie doesn't either.
But he takes a stab in the dark; figuring that as long as he starts it off, they'll go somewhere.
"Lucien, I'm sorry. I was way out of line to say that." He says, "It's just been hard without you, is all. I was upset, and my nose started bleeding, and I just kinda…Hit a boiling point. I know that doesn't make it right, but, I'm sorry." He then takes a sip of tea, and looks away to Matthew, unable to meet Lucien's eye.
"I didn't know you felt that way." Lucien murmured. He glanced at Matthew. "Did you?"
"I did," Matthew confesses.
"You didn't tell me."
"We didn't want to upset you," Matthew said as Charlie wrapped a second hand around his cup. Charlie scoffed. Lucien zeros in on it.
"Something to add?"
"No." He sighed and reached out for Charlie's hand, which he pulled away.
"Will someone please explain to me exactly what I've done?" He asked, finally, after neither he nor Matthew speaks up. Matthew is looking into his teacup so Charlie speaks up.
"You haven't done anything." He says, "But you're gonna."
"What? Lucien asks, desperate.
"You're going to leave," Charlie says, finally. Lucien looks at him, taken aback anew. He looks at Matthew, who is looking up now. "And I don't – We – don't want you to."
"Where am I going to go?"
"With Jean," Matthew says. "And that's fine." He says, slowly. "We aren't going to force you to be with us."
"Why do you think that?" He asked, reaching across the table, and taking grasp of Charlie in one hand and Matthew in the other. He looks desperate, and Charlie feels like they're ganging up on him. "I love you two."
"I know," Charlie said, not pulling his hand away. His voice breaks a little. "But…You spend all your time with her. The way you look at her. I can see it."
"I don't love her. Not how I love you two. She's my secretary. My housekeeper. My friend."
"We aren't asking you to abandon Jean." Matthew asserted, quickly. "She's important to you. We know that." He says, seriously. Lucien looks into his tea, and Charlie pulls his hand away.
"It's not your fault we're umpermenant."
"That's not a word," Lucien said, softly.
"It's a word because I say it's a word." Charlie commented, "Anyway. It'll be better that way. Easier. People already think you're shagging her."
"Don't I get a say in this?" Lucien demanded, "You're both so convinced I'm going to go. I'm not. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here, with the men I love. Doesn't that mean anything, what I want?" Charlie is surprised by the outburst, he'd presumed that Lucien was as aware of it as they were. It seemed he was wrong about this, as he was with so many things lately. Matthew swallows the last of his tea.
"Of course it does." He says, "We're just thinking about the future."
"I'm not leaving you," Lucien repeats, more forcefully. "I'm not." Charlie stumbled to his feet, tripping on his own chair. He moved forward and then he was pulled into Lucien's arms. He wasn't sure if this was why he stood or not, but it feels good.
"I believe you." He whispered, softly. Lucien sounded more certain of this than anything Charlie has ever heard him speak about. Lucien offers his other arm to Matthew, who doesn't take it. He still seems unimpressed. Charlie holds on tighter. He's not trying to cut of Lucien's air and he realizes he might be and loosens his arms ever so slightly. Even if Lucien does leave, which he will eventually (because everybody does) than Charlie doesn't mind. Not one little bit. Because he gets to be with him now, and there's little else he could ask for. He just wants to hold on tight for as long as he can.
It takes Matthew longer to stand, and join in the hug. He's tight up against Charlie, who is tighter against Lucien and he's terrified to pull away. Time passes – no more than a few minutes – And Lucien pulls away.
"I think you need to wash the blood off." He says, looking Charlie up and down. Matthew puts a hand on the table to steady himself. He nodded in agreement.
"I might go have a shower." He said, finally. "I think you guys still have stuff to talk about anyway." Before either can answer, he hurried from the room to the safety of the bathroom.
Most men have vices. Some men, like Matthew and Lucien, liked to drink. Some men, like Hobart, like to break things and hurt people. Charlie Davis's vices are much simpler than that. He takes long showers. The water takes seemingly forever to warm up in the icy pipes, but he is not concerned with using all the hot water at this time of night.
After he was sure he was blood free, he stepped out of the water and selected a towel off the rack. The boxers were surprisingly blood-free, as was the robe, and he eventually made his way back to his room for pajamas. He returned to the bedroom and crawled under the sheets of the empty bed. It feels like a metaphor. His heart hurts.