When the Cullens came to Forks, Charlie was wary. He wanted to be open minded, he meant to keep his small-town prejudices to himself—he saw five adopted teenagers and immediately thought trouble.
It came as a surprise when Carlisle stopped by the police station to introduce himself, bearing Rudi's best pastries and a firm handshake. "It's a pleasure to be here," he said, unnaturally pretty with a smile that could turn a man gay. "My wife wanted somewhere safe, you see."
The donuts were good. The flattery didn't hurt, either. "Forks is lucky to have you," Charlie said, and that was that.
The next day Esme Cullen came by and introduced her youngest, and the day after Alice Cullen and Jasper Hale came by to invite Charlie to dinner. "You must bring your companion," the girl said, shorter than Bella but twice as cheeky. "We're all so happy to be here, but we could use some advice on the best places to shop."
"I'll ask Harry," Charlie said. The man didn't like changes to his routine, and Charlie didn't want another episode.
"He'll say yes. See you tonight at six."
…
Just to be disagreeable, Charlie wished Harry had said no. Of course, that wasn't in either of their natures. Harry sat in the car, waiting for Charlie to do his seatbelt as always, staring at the fall rain.
If they hadn't been in his police cruiser Charlie would've felt uncomfortable driving the lane to the Cullens'. The trees jutted, branches whipping against the tin roof like an omen.
"We'll be perfectly safe," Harry said as the house pulled into view. "Their eyes aren't red, see? That's important."
"Of course," Charlie murmured, because he'd learned not to ask questions. He unbuckled them and walked up the crunching gravel with Harry's hand firmly in his own.
"I'm so glad you're here!" Alice Cullen squealed, yanking the door open before they could knock. Charlie felt off-balance, but Harry's presence beside him was warm. "Come in!"
The house was bright and big, everything Charlie's wasn't. The open kitchen was sleek and brand new. Mrs Cullen called over that dinner would be done soon.
The rest of them sat on the couch, eyeing each other, pretending to sip their drinks. Harry was staring at Doctor Cullen. "How old are you?" he asked.
"Harry," Charlie said, squeezing the man's hand. "Sorry. He's been a bit different since the accident, but we get by just fine." It was the excuse they'd decided on together, rather than the more accurate version of since the murder. Harry's answering smile was blank while his eyes fixed on the piano in the middle of the room.
"Do you play?" Edward asked, oddly eager. "Come, I'll show you."
The sounds made it clear that Harry had no musical talent while Edward was a virtuoso. Neither seemed to mind, plonking away companionably.
"The accident?" Doctor Cullen prompted. "Is Harry alright?"
"He's fine," Charlie said, surprised by his own ferocity. During dinner he reminded Harry to stop pushing his food around, just like always, and Charlie was sweating by the time they were done. He'd never showcased Harry like this, never tried to mould him into something for polite company. Down to his bones, it felt wrong, and he could tell Harry wanted to go home.
Mrs Cullen carried the small talk, while Edward spent the evening staring intently. "I have a headache," Harry finally said, holding the scar that the bad man had carved into his face.
Glad for the excuse, they left.
.oOo.
The Cullens didn't give up. Even though school had started, there were almost daily visits to the station. "I can drive him home, if you like?" Alice offered one day when Harry came in after his bakery shift to press an absent-minded kiss to Charlie's cheek. "I can see you have plenty to do, and it's no bother."
"Harry?"
"I like Alice," he said. Charlie smiled, tucked a stray strand behind Harry's ear, and went back to work.
When he got home dinner was ready as usual. Alice was still there. She was talking about the paint in the kitchen, and Harry seemed perfectly content to let her bear the brunt of the conversation. With just three of them, and in a familiar environment, it was nice.
.oOo.
Harry liked Alice, her hair was spikey but her heart was soft. He'd worried at first about how cold she was, but she felt safe. He made sure to give her mugs of tea to hold, he'd noticed she liked having warm hands.
There was something skittish about her, but that was alright. Harry knew what it was like to need to run. Sometimes, she looked into space and said things that reminded him of the moon, and he wondered if she could see things that weren't there, too.
Just because it's all in your head doesn't mean it isn't real. The memories liked to jump out at him in bits and pieces. Carlisle said he should try writing them down, but Harry wasn't sure if he wanted them.
For some reason Alice liked him too, and she'd decided it was her job to drive him to and from work. He often came home dusted with flour and cinnamon, but she barely noticed.
"You smell nice," Alice had said once when she'd unbuckled him.
For a moment he'd been scared, though he wasn't sure why. "Nice as in nice to eat?" he'd checked.
Her smile didn't falter. "No Harry, you don't need to worry about that."
He believed her, it was something in her eyes. Alice was skittish and had spikey hair, but her heart was soft.
.oOo.
Their first time, Harry could feel how scared Charlie was. "I want this," he said a hundred times, guiding their bodies together just right. It was quick and unpractised, and Harry couldn't stop pressing kisses against the man's hairy chest.
Their next time was better, and by the third Charlie was reaching out and holding Harry like he was precious. At some point it was almost routine, in the mornings he'd roll towards Charlie instead of climbing trees.
What they had was simple, perfect, between them. Harry had never thought the Cullens would ruin it.
.oOo.
"Alice wants to redo our living room," Harry said. Charlie couldn't help his grin, he'd never heard Harry call it ours before.
"We can afford some new paint." Charlie had been saving to take Harry to a Seattle neurologist, but it was a stupid idea. Harry's job was part-time without benefits, and Charlie knew it would be naïve to marry him for a doctor's visit.
"She just wants permission, not money. She's like a cactus, you know."
Charlie sighed. Bella might have understood succulents, but he sure didn't. "Alright. Have fun, I guess." He tucked a fifty into Harry's jacket pocket and insisted, "You're paying for the paint."
The next day Alice came up to Charlie at work and hugged him, and the day after that Charlie came home to a room he didn't recognize. The furniture was the same, though the upholstery was different. Judging by the lack of draft, there was insulation in the walls.
He didn't mind, though he preferred how Harry the kitchen was. "You made some weird friends," Charlie said, leaning over to peck the man on the cheek. "Come on, let's see if the TV still works, the Seahawks are playing tonight.
That weekend, they hosted the Cullens for dinner again. Harry was taking the lasagne out of the oven while Alice trilled about, showing Esme the new lamps like an ordinary girl who wanted her mother to be proud.
Jasper smiled at them. Charlie settled himself at the head of the table with Harry by his side where he belonged.
"I specialised in neurology, actually," Doctor Cullen was saying, and then tilted his head as if he could hear Charlie's heart racing.
"Do you think it's possible for people to move things with their minds?" Charlie asked. Going by the Cullens' expressions, they hadn't been expecting that. Harry's hand didn't squeeze his in warning, so he knew Harry was okay with it.
"You mean telekinesis?" Edward laughed, voice a little off. "That's impossible."
Charlie had broken down criminals harder than this teen. He waited, letting the silence stretch between them. He thought Edward would squirm, but the boy froze like a statue instead.
"I'd say it's not unfeasible," Doctor Cullen said lightly. "Are you asking because of Harry?"
The man was kneading his scar again, brow wrinkled in pain. Charlie got up and fetched a cup of ice, pressing a cube into Harry's unresisting hand. It seemed to be helping Harry ground himself, so Charlie turned back to Doctor Cullen.
"I don't know. I'm just worried."
Mrs Cullen stood, her smile soft. "I'll clear the table," she said, ushering her children out of the room.
"May I?" Doctor Cullen waited for Harry's nod before he touched the face Charlie knew by heart. The doctor turned Harry's head back and forth. "Can you take off your slippers and stand on one foot? Good, now the other. Walk toe to heel in a straight line."
Harry did well, ice water dripping from his hand all the while.
"Physically everything seems to be in order, but perhaps something was, let's say, miswired in the accident. We can't know without an MRI."
"You have pretty eyes," Harry said.
Charlie supressed the jealously gurgling in his gut. Doctor Cullen was married, but anyone could see the man was hot.
"Can you tell me about the accident, Harry?"
"No, he can't remember much from before." Sometimes Harry told him little bits as they came to him, but Charlie had learned it was better not to ask. Especially not on a day like this, where they'd already changed their routine.
"There was a bad man," Harry whispered.
"You don't have to do this." Charlie held his cold hand, but Harry was somewhere else. The lamps burned steady, the furniture stayed put, and Charlie forgot to breathe as he listened.
"His name was Tom, but nobody called him that. He came to me when I was little, he put a part of himself inside of me."
Charlie exchanged looks with Doctor Cullen. He'd thought he wanted to know, but now he was being punched. Helplessness, grief, Charlie wanted to scream. He forced his lungs to inhale, then exhale.
"When I killed him, maybe some of him was left behind? Or maybe I'm broken without him in my head."
Harry was pressing against his scar so hard his skin was white. Charlie reached out and took both of Harry's hands again, pressed a kiss against them while ignoring the hot tears splashing off his own face.
"I can assure you you're not broken," Doctor Cullen said, finding all the words Charlie was missing. "It's possible that you've blocked your memories to protect yourself. The mind can be astute and even mysterious."
"Shouldn't we just leave it, then?" Charlie didn't want Harry to remember the horrible things that had been done to him. Their life was fine like this, they were happy.
"Alice said you have episodes where you shut down, Harry?" Doctor Cullen had moved so that Harry was looking at him. "Have they been getting better or worse? More or less frequent? Do you remember new things afterwards?"
"I guess," Harry shrugged.
Charlie felt himself breaking. Had they been happening at work? In the car? Had Rudi said something?
"Edward's digging makes it worse," Harry added.
They heard glass shattering in the kitchen. Charlie'd forgotten the other Cullens were there, they'd been so quiet. He wished he could sock Edward in the jaw, even without knowing exactly what for.
"Alright, Harry. Good, we can work on that. Anything else that triggers you? Flashbacks?"
"Black dogs, small rooms, and stupid questions," Charlie answered.
Harry smiled back with sad eyes. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Good night."
There was an answering chorus from the kitchen, and then it was just Doctor Cullen and Charlie at the table.
"Oh God," Charlie said.
They'd been sleeping together. Harry had always been so sure, but the sudden guilt was crushing him.
When the Cullens left, Jasper's handshake was firm. "You are a good man, Charlie Swan. Harry is lucky to have you." The words helped ease Charlie's pain surprisingly well.
He slept on the couch that night, with Doctor Cullen's parting words whirring through his head. 'And if the telekinesis isn't hurting anyone, I wouldn't worry about it. It's only natural when Harry's emotions are heightened. You've done well keeping it a secret.'
"I love you," Harry said, curling his warm body against Charlie's.
"Wha—? What time is it?" For twelve years his radio clock had been there, now Alice had replaced it. "What did you say?"
"It's sleeping time," Harry said, kissing Charlie's head. "Now stop thinking about nargles and come back to bed."
.oOo.
The Cullen parents became regular visitors, leaving Carlisle and Charlie in the kitchen while Esme and Harry watched home improvement shows.
Charlie leaned over to check, but the doctor knew how to make carbonara much better than he could ever hope to.
"It's only fair to redistribute gender roles as needed," Carlisle murmured as he drained the pasta. "Look at them, Esme has been deprived of a gossiping partner for so long."
The sappy look in Carlisle's honey eyes made Charlie remember Harry's reassurances that the Cullens didn't eat people. Fiddling with the cork necklace Harry had made him, he called Harry and Esme to the table.
Afterwards, like every week, Esme set Harry floating in a salt bath, talking through a meditation while Charlie wrung his hands and wished the soap would stop floating in mid-air.
It was helping Harry to do better, he had less episodes now and more lucid moments with insights that Charlie never understood. Esme seemed convinced he'd be ready for the confinement of an MRI soon, so Charlie trusted the doctor and his wife, and hoped for the best.
.oOo.
I'm publishing a new chapter every day of December 2021 here and on ao3 (search 'AverageFish'). Thank you for reading.