AN: Trigger warnings for past self-harm and homophobia

Charlie stared at the restraints they kept in the drawer of his bedside table. Wonka came into the bedroom after working late one night. "Hey there," Wonka said, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Charlie.

"Hey." Charlie closed the drawer and turned to face Wonka. They kissed deeply, and Charlie clutched Wonka's red-purple jacket in his fingers. Their kiss deepened even more, and Wonka groaned against his mouth.

"God," Wonka groaned. "So good."

"It always is with you," Charlie replied, and Wonka blushed. Charlie wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, so deeply that Wonka's hat fell off. Their kisses were electric, and Charlie's heart began to speed up. Wonka's tongue twisted around his, stroking, and Charlie groaned. Their kisses grew hot and steamy until they gasped into each other's mouths. Charlie pressed his hips against Wonka's.

"Come here," Wonka said, leading him towards the bed. Wonka climbed on top of Charlie, who pulled him down for a soft, electric kiss.

"Touch me," Charlie gasped, grabbing Wonka's gloved hand and moving it between his legs.

Wonka pulled his hand away. "I - I can't," he said. Out of all the times they'd had sex, Wonka had never touched him.

Charlie sat up. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to take off my gloves," Wonka said.

"Is there something you don't want me to see?" Charlie asked. When Wonka didn't answer, Charlie said, "I thought there were no secrets between us, Willy."

"I...I think I'm going to go work for a while," Wonka said, getting off the bed and leaving Charlie alone in their room, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Wonka didn't come to bed until after Charlie had fallen asleep. The next day, Charlie tried to figure out how to approach Wonka so that he wouldn't scare him off. He decided to visit his parents. "Mom?" Charlie asked as his mother cooked lunch.

"Yes, Charlie?"

"I think Willy might be hiding something from me," Charlie said.

"What makes you think that?" asked Mrs. Bucket.

"Well, I wanted him to...do something, and he wouldn't take off his gloves," Charlie said. "In fact, now that I think about it, he's never taken off his gloves in front of me."

"Ah." Mrs. Bucket smiled knowingly, and sat down at the kitchen table. "So you asked him for the thing you wanted, and he refused."

"Yes." Charlie blushed.

"Well…" Mrs. Bucket trailed off. "Just let him know that whatever it is that he's keeping from you, you won't judge him. Let him know you'll be there to support him."

"Okay," Charlie said, "Thanks, Mom."

Charlie found Wonka in his office. "Willy?" he said softly, knocking on the open door. Wonka jumped and turned to face Charlie.

"Oh, hey," Wonka said. "What do you think about mini caramel apples?"

"Mini?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah," Wonka said. "We'd shrink the apples using the television room, and put a normal sized apple in the machine instead of a gigantic one. That way it'd come out smaller."

"Interesting," Charlie said. "Willy, I really want to talk to you about last night." Wonka blanched, but Charlie said, "No. Don't do this. Don't shut me out."

"I don't like this conversation," Wonka said, starting to get up, but Charlie blocked his way.

"Willy," Charlie said, "Whatever it is, I won't judge you. I promise."

Wonka sighed and, to Charlie's surprise, removed his left glove and turned his wrist over. Charlie gasped when he saw scars on Wonka's arm. "Willy?"

"I wear gloves because I used to self-harm," said Wonka. "I hated myself because I thought there was something wrong with me that made my father hate me."

"No, Willy," Charlie said, taking Wonka's bare hand in his, lacing their fingers together for the first time. "Nothing's wrong with you. You're perfect." He leaned in and kissed Wonka softly, and the older chocolatier kissed him back, sliding the fingers on his other hand through Charlie's hair. Their kiss was electric, and Wonka pressed him against his desk, kissing him harder. Charlie gasped into his mouth, pulling Wonka's lower lip into his mouth and sucking. Wonka's groan went straight to his groin. "Willy," Charlie groaned, tugging him closer by his jacket. Charlie's heart was racing now. Wonka's tongue traced his jaw, and Charlie groaned again, feeling Wonka's tongue against his Adam's apple. Charlie's hands were shaking now, and he wondered if Wonka was going to touch him. Wonka had never used his mouth on him either.

"I have to get back to work," said Wonka, untangling himself from Charlie. Their noses touched, and they gasped into each other's mouths, Charlie's hands on Wonka's chest.

"What about our list?" Charlie asked seductively, whispering into Wonka's ear.

The older man shivered. "Later," he promised.

"Willy?" Charlie asked one day.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we should tell your father about us?"

Wonka looked up from his desk, twirling his pen. It was a nervous habit. "I haven't been to see him in a while," Wonka admitted. "He might have heard."

Charlie thought back on the newspaper clippings Wilbur Wonka had kept of Wonka's achievements. "He might have," Charlie admitted, "but don't you think we should go tell him ourselves?"

"All right," said Wonka. Charlie could tell he was nervous about it.

"Don't worry about it," Charlie said, "it'll be fine."

The next day, they knocked at Wilbur Wonka's door. Wilbur opened it. "Willy, Charlie, come in," he said. "I was just making dinner. Would you like to come in and eat?"

"Sure," Charlie said before Wonka could leave, tugging at his lover's arm. "Come on, Willy," Charlie whispered to him. Wilbur stared at them with a strange look in his eye, like he suspected something between them and was trying to figure it out. Wonka relented, entering his father's townhouse with Charlie in tow.

They all sat down for dinner, and Charlie remembered doing this with his parents. It had been so nervewracking. He hoped Wilbur would take it well. "So, what brings you here?" Wilbur asked.

"Well, Mr. Wonka, we have something to tell you," Charlie said, looking at Wonka and nudging him when he didn't respond.

"Yes," Wonka said, clearing his throat. "Dad, um...I'msortofseeingCharlie."

"Seeing him?" Wilbur asked. "Seeing him how?"

Wonka audibly gulped. "Seeing him as in, I'm in love with him. He's living with me at the factory again."

Wilbur bit his lip, setting his fork and knife down. Charlie figured this couldn't be good. Based on the shock on Wilbur's face, the dentist clearly hadn't known. "And how long have you been...seeing him?"

"Almost three months," Wonka informed him. "I love him, Dad. I've been alone all these years, thinking I would never find someone I would want to spend the rest of my life with, and I have."

A muscle twitched in Wilbur's jaw as he clenched it. But Charlie was staring at Wonka openmouthed at what he'd just said. "I will not tolerate something so...disgusting...in my home," Wilbur said. "Get out, both of you. Now."

"I know I'm a lot older than him, Dad, but-" Wonka started.

"Love is between a man and a woman," Wilbur interrupted him, and both Wonka and Charlie froze.

"I think we should leave," Charlie said, putting a hand on Wonka's arm, his touch gentle. "Right now."

"Okay," Wonka agreed. They got up and left without another word to Wilbur.

Once in the Great Glass Elevator, Charlie asked, "Did you mean it? What you said back there?"

"What did I say?" Wonka asked.

"That you want to spend the rest of your life with me," Charlie said.

Wonka sighed. "I had this big, epic proposal planned," he said. Charlie's mouth fell open again in shock as Wonka took his hand. "I was going to have the Oompa-Loompas perform, and propose to you in front of everyone. But sometimes my emotions get the better of me, and I guess I let it slip." Silence fell over them, and Wonka squeezed his hand. "Charlie Bucket, will you marry me?"