Brazil and the scent of leather jacket

The church is next on their list of things to do.

Miles is trying to look for an escape route, reaching his limit of wedding shit for one morning. Hell, probably for the rest of his life.

Bass is trying to keep his eyes away from Charlotte. He really does not need another smack on the head from Miles. Hell, he probably does not need any more fucking thoughts that include her wrapped around him or on a fucking table before him..

And Charlie, she is trying to not pay attention to the fact she is aware of Monroe's eyes on her ass.

Miles almost sees a possibility to sneak the hell away from everyone with Bass, when Anthony makes a sudden stop. Turns around. And demands both him and Bass coming with them to the church with them.

He needs to show them all about where they are going to sit, what they have to do. And then they get a dirty look each from Anthony and a long list that includes everything they cannot do.

'That includes bringing your own booze to the ceremony in church.' He snaps at them. 'Tacky, so tacky.' He rolls his eyes at Bass and Miles.

Charlie looks at two bad ass Generals getting lectured by a wedding planner with a smirk, clear blue eyes and her arms crossed before her chest.

'We are late to a meeting with Blanchard.' Miles tries, with his best casual voice.

'We are late to our little get together in church.' Anthony counters.

'You do know who Frank Blanchard is, right?' Bass says with an amused grin.

'You do know I am planning something important here, right?' Anthony snaps back. 'Blanchard can wait.' Anthony adds, already turning from Bass and Miles as he is not really listening anymore.

'Well, brother, you've heard the man, huh?' he pats Miles on the back, grinning, looking at Charlie from the corner of his eyes before he looks back to Miles.

Miles shoves his hand away from his shoulder, with an annoyed look. 'Get your hands away from me, you moron.'

Charlie watches the brotherly banter, and she has to admit that it is kind of fun to see how Bass can yank Miles' chain. She walks into the church with Anthony not far behind her. Although Charlie suspects they could have done just fine without those idiots, she suspects Anthony just needs a reason to keep both Miles and Bass around.

She smirks at Anthony who gives her an innocent face.

'What?'

'Oh nothing.' She says with sarcasm in her voice and a small smile around her lips.

Because of the fact that her mom and Priscilla are having an argument about candles and no one has to stomach to intervene that discussion and because of a missing Priest, Charlie sits down on the steps at the far end of the church until the meeting gets finally started.

If someone asks her, and no one does, the church looks just fine the way it is now. Simple and fine for a wedding. Not that she is the wedding kind of person. She is not someone who believes in that herself, although what Aaron and Priscilla have feels good and real. Maybe no one has been around to show her it can be eyes fall on the wooden benches and then on Monroe, who is talking to Miles and is whining for a swig from Miles' flask at the look of things.

The light that falls in through the windows is bright and it reaches her face. She just closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in. The sounds of the buzz of the people in the church fading.

It is not long before Anthony finds her.

'Well, it is not even 11 and I already need another coffee the size of my head.' Anthony sighs.

He moves so that he is sitting down next to her on her step. Connor walks in, a wide smirk on his face as he leaves a couple of girls giggling outside.

'So, what is his story?' Anthony wants to know, his eyes glued on the younger Monroe.

'His story is girls.' Charlie laughs.

'Oh really?' He answers her, with clear disappointment in his eyes.

'I am afraid so.' Charlie tilts her head a bit.

'What a shame.' He half sighs, half answers.

Then he looks from Connor back to Charlie.

Connor walks to Miles and Bass, who are standing a bit further ahead. Aaron is talking to some friends in the other corner of the church. Flowers are brought in, and Priscilla and Rachel walk to them to do the final selection of colours.

Charlie and Anthony talk. Laugh. He makes her laugh. His stories are what she craves for every now and then. They are from a world ago, with cities she has heard from. Fashion, food, travelling. It is light and easy and she likes to listen to him. Sitting side by side.

It is not long before Anthony tells her another story. A horrible story of a very demanding bossy bride and a cake gone bad. About another wedding with a severe case of food poisoning and more wedding drama. Then he reaches the part about dresses in wrong sizes and lingerie missing right before the wedding night and the hotels booked for the wrong dates.

He is just about to reach a topic that grabs her attention fast.

'Yeah marriage is a lot harder without a salon to get a Brazilian, Char.'

Charlie looks confused. 'Excuse me? A what? Brazilians?'

'Oh honey, you are so lucky I am here...' Anthony replies with a serious tone.

And before she knows it, she is in the middle of the conversation about which salons to go to, and which not and bikini lines and very intimate places. When Anthony reaches the part of the wax she makes a face of agony at just the thought.

It is because of that thought and the topic of their discussion Charlie does not hear Miles walking up to them.

'Aaand what are the both of you gossiping about?'

'Brazil,' Charlie answers without even blinking when she looks up at Miles.

Within five whole seconds and one look at Anthony's face, Miles gets what they are talking about. He curses loudly through the whole church the moment he does.

'Oh Hell.' His voice sounds through the whole church. Images battling in his mind he really does not need to see. Miles is close to having an aneurysm.

At that exact moment the priest walks in, a look of shock on his face.

'Sorry Padre.' Miles throws at him drily, his whole face still in agony. Both Priscilla and Rachel looking at him again like they want to murder him.

All of a sudden Miles knows what it must be like for Bass with those looks from Rachel and he makes a mental note to at least make an effort to be a bit nicer to his brother. Well, he is at least going to try/

Bass is not a big as a moron as his brother and he did not need the whole five seconds his brother did need to catch up. As both Rachel and the Priest are looking confused as hell.

God, he swears, he likes this part of her, he likes best man Charlie. He grins.

And then ,because he is just a guy too, not some damn saint, images crash into his mind. Different images than Miles has and images he probably should not have in a church. And about Miles' niece.

Images that make the grin fade and his lips into a tight line to keep his cock in control.

Charlie notices those intense blue from Monroe are eyes glued on her. What started as a fast fun way to get her uncle's blood pressure up now evolves into a too long stare that she cannot break herself away from.

She watches him. A smirk answering his grin. Her blue eyes answering his eyes with the same intensity that are in his. She is ready to go to war with him if he dares to open his stupid mouth now. She finds herself kind of hoping he does, so she can battle him.

Thoughts and that need to battle him in so many, new, ways that flow so easily. Eager to be there for reasons she has not explored yet.

But instead, he does not say a word. And he grins that stupid grin of his. Lighting up his face, lighting up the whole church. Boyish, everything, stimulating. Brooding and yet, somehow open and inviting. All true, if she would ignore and forget that raw edge she sees in his eyes too that builds something up deep inside her belly. Danger into a warm grin.

She heard a lot of stories from Miles about Monroe and the ladies. And yes, she is not blind. But the stories about how easy he worked his way through woman always made her huff and grin with a yeah right snort. That is until she is lost in this lock of eyes with him and his stupid grin that she cannot stop.

She gets it now.


Bass is unable to tell himself to get a damn grip and to look away from Charlie. And this time it is him who mutters Jesus quietly, and curses some more. Before he realises he is late for a meeting with Blanchard.

Fuck it, Blanchard can wait. Charlie can't. She is looking at with that raised eyebrow of hers and that look that can make him hard within seconds. Dammit. He has to fight the urge to think about his hands under that grey fucking perfect shirt of hers, his fingers going all kinds of places.

It is Anthony's voice that is a sharp order through the church that jolts him back to reality of another stupid long boring rehearsal. It is a wedding folks. How hard can it be?

How much whining and boring stuff does he need to sit through?

He looks at Anthony again. Orders are flying through the church from a merciless wedding planner.

If they ever get their Republic back, Bass considers having him in charge of parties and booze because that guy can give orders like a damn corporal.


Later that night, Priscilla and some of her friends from Willoughby make sure there is food. A lot of it. Something Miles and Bass have no problems with.

Everyone gathers at Aaron's and Priscilla's house. There are plenty of people, there is plenty of food and plenty of laughs. There are candles in the living room as everyone is tired after a long day and they all crave a drink.

Charlie is sitting on the small couch in front of the fireplace. A friendly fire is there. She is eating and drinking, the room filled with friends from town and her family. Her stomach full, a pleasant buzz of the wine in her head.

Anthony walks over with the bottle, filling her glass again as she moves the glass closer to him. 'There you go Char, I can't believe that uncle of yours has never even bothered to teach you about wine. '

'Heard that!' Miles says from the other side of the room, as he raises his bottle at them as he has not bothered picking a damn glass tonight.

'Meant for you to hear that!' Anthony snaps back. He nods at Charlie before he is making another round. 'Got to go, please make sure to mingle. Have fun!'

Charlie has no idea what he means by that, but she does know she is just fine where she is. On the couch, with wine and a plate of food. Miles winks at her as she smirks back with a mouth full of food.

Bass walks into the crowded living room. He nods to Connor who is of course busy impressing one of the locals. He grins fast. A real Monroe this one. He is proud of his kid. Connor turns his attention back from his dad to the girl in front of him.

Then he spots her, on that couch. She is mid conversation, surrounded by a small group of people. She has a glass of wine in her slender hand. Her hair now loose over her shoulder again, a warm smile in a face he has not seen this relaxed from her. Fuck, she is beautiful. She makes easy conversation and the people around laugh at a joke she is probably making.

Bass scans the room again. Miles is talking to Rachel and there is no way in hell he is sitting with them. Staypuft is busy too. His kid too damn close to that girl. He is realising all the chairs are full, people are standing everywhere. And somehow, that place just next to her on that couch, is now empty.

Fuck.

He hopes no one will notice how he hesitates, because hell, he used to walk into meetings with his officers and all the bullshit going on there, completely in charge. But now, it is a very full room. And her. On a very small couch. Dammit. Bass scratches the back of his head. Nodding to a woman who passes him who he does not even know. She smiles at him with a smile which he knows could mean an invitation to a talk and her bed later.

He does not want to talk to her, or take her to that bed.

That moment he feels Miles' eyes as he knows his back is against the wall. Walking back to another spot with his brother's eyes on him is trouble. It happens when you read the other like yourself since you knew each other since forever.

Backing out now would be the fucking mistake in the history of ever.

With Charlie, he shared a log before near a fire. They were shoulder to shoulder huddled against a wall mid fight. But that couch, it is too damn small. He sucks in a breath, almost shakes his head with a curse only he can hear. Dammit, it is a couch, get it together.

His boots hit the floor in large steps as he walks over to her, silently cursing and begging she does not throw him those Charlie why the hell are you even here eyes.

He plants his ass down next to her, as she is just in the middle of a story with some local guy he has seen around her a little bit too much. Truth is, he feels a bit fucking jealous. Truth is, that he admires her, for being so free, making people laugh, talk and connect with the people in the room. She probably does not even realise it herself.

But then, as he starts to regret of even thinking of sitting right next to her, the guy next to her gets up from his place and then walks away. And Charlie actually turns to him when there are at least three other people she can talk to instead of him.

He shifts a bit, as he realises he is way too close.

He looks at her plate, and she catches him looking at her food.

She had seen him before, standing there on the other side of the room earlier. And of course, the ass had to sit down next to her. She had decided to ignore him as much as she could but then. Then his weight had been there, on the couch next to her. Her body shifting a bit towards him, to his large legs, his wide thighs and that wide chest. It did about ten different things to her and her body that she had not expected. And ten different things she pushes away quickly.

She turns a bit, so she can look at him.

'Hungry Monroe?'

Bass is confused by her question. And then, he watches her smirk but still offers him her fork. Before he knows it, she shoves the plate to him. And he accepts it. The meat is good, the rest of the food too. And he realises he is hungry. Anthony drops a glass of booze in front of him.

He is not sure what to do about so much friendliness. And then, after the food, her food, she has shared with him and not killing him for sitting next to her on the couch she starts to actually fucking talk to him.

'So, another long afternoon with Blanchard?'

'Yeah, Walnut is proving kind of challenge here and there.' He smirks.

'Walnut?' She narrows her eyes at him.

He wants to tell her the story, it is a fucking good one. When there is a whore and some kinky shit involved they usual are. But he also does not want to hurt her because that walnut moment was there, in Austin where she had lost a part of herself the day after.

'Oh just one of those stories. Maybe tell you another day.' Her face drops at his answer, and it tugs at his heart and stomach in a not so good way, as he watches her disappointment.

And he feels stupid. Dammit, he did not want to push her out, make her feel he does not want to tell her. Because he really wants to.

'Maybe when mister priest' he nods the priest talking to Priscilla at the other side of the room, 'is not around huh?'

He winks at her before he can stop himself.

She grins again, and he is fucking happy to see that grin back there again.

She nods, as they sit. As they share something simple as a couch. A plate of food. As he drinks whiskey and she sips from her wine. She realises it is so normal, so small, but that it is everything. A part of her life that she could have had if her parents had made different decisions. It tugs at her heart with sadness.

'Hey, you okay?' His voice is low, but the kind of warm low.

She finds a hint of worry in his eyes.

'Yeah I am.' She nods. It is not the truth. She knows. He knows. She knows he knows. But they both know that some hurt and deep pain cannot reach the surface.

So, she watches Monroe not being an ass for once. As he moves back to the conversation flowing around them, pulling the attention away from her so she can take a sip of wine and regroup.

And then, she feels him shift again. His arm moves behind her on the couch. Loosely, casual, but nevertheless there. Strong and wide, giving her a shield of Bass and leather jacket.

They eat. And without Charlie even noticing, she drinks from his glass of whiskey later. He does. And he fucking likes her doing that, her fingers and lips around his glass. But it is the familiarity of the gesture that fucking gets to him.

There is this one moment where she turns to him and he can see her eyes so damn close when she smiles. Their group is kind of drunk and good stories are being told. Bass watches Charlie having a good time. The group is getting smaller. Anthony walks over, so does Miles. This Anthony guy makes her smile, he appreciates that.

Charlie used to smile, so fucking much. A proud grin, he remembered from Chicago and years back. There is something about this week, combined with a lot of booze that shows him a different Charlie.

Charlie looks at him, as her leg is still plastered against his thigh. She does not seem in a hurry to change that. And then, her eyes change. The room doesn't. People eat, people laugh. Miles sitting across from them. Rachel and Priscilla around another smaller table in the back of the living room. Aaron laughing at some of his friends. Connor walking outside with that girl.

It all goes on, while the fire burns and it is dark outside. The sound of crickets fill the air.

Her eyes do change. They narrow a bit, as they look away from him again and the moment passes. And he has seen a lot of things from her in those eyes, face to face, her so damn close. Anger, rage, hate, loathing. But not this, not like she was deciding what the hell was going on. Not like there was a flash of something close to something way too damn ridiculous in those eyes of her. Something that would normally guarantee him he would get to take her home and show her what he could to do her in bed.

He feels her shift, and when the night continues with more food and whiskey and talking and a room filled with friends, Charlie finds a place next to him, close to his chest. And she stays there for the rest of the night. Even when Rachel walks up to Miles and gives him a cold glare, a glare he knows Charlie has seen too, Charlie stays right there with him.

The evening slows down, people start to leave. Charlie gets up from her place. Caught off guard by how much his arm is not behind her anymore. His chest is not too.

When they say goodnight to their group, Bass going home and she going upstairs, they are aware of the other. Eyes crossing the room, connecting. She nods, he just looks, a silent nod in his eyes.

When Charlie falls asleep later in her bed under cool blankets, he is there again. The warm feel of something swirling inside her stomach, when Bass sat down next to her on that couch. When everybody around her did not seem to notice, she did.

The small shift and at the same time huge shift as the evening continued for everyone else the way it did. But somehow not for her. Not for her and bass.

She knows, as she is trying to not pay attention to it, that she is replaying that part of the day too much in her mind not to care. Because tonight, that infuriating tall wide body of his, Monroe was close. So close. Too close.

But why the hell was she not able to just walk away from him? Why did she feel she enjoyed that spot right there by his side? All questions that slowly are faded for now, faded into sweet bliss of the night by too much sweet wine and burning whiskey.

She drifts of, remembering how it felt to know his arm was there, behind her, over that couch. She falls asleep in a shirt that says, I am a Charlotte.

She falls asleep with the scent of leather jacket in her shirt.


Authors Note: Thank you for reading ! It is so much fun to write more and more Charloe in this week of wedding planning. To give them more and more room and space to interact. Thanks for the great reviews for last chapter, I enjoyed reading them so very much! They are amazing gifts to read after writing for me... Love from Love