Charles happily strolled through Raven's apartment to the kitchen, carrying a box of 150 perfectly written wedding invitations. He'd sat up the previous night adding final touches, double and triple checking there were no mistakes - everything had to be perfect for Raven. He found his sister sat at the breakfast bar (which was used for everything but eating breakfast), staring sadly at her laptop.

"Here they are, Raven, 150 perfect invitations, just as you specified."

Raven's head shot up, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. "Oh, Charles, thank you, um… just set them here."

Charles frowned, stepping forward to deposit the invitations on the bar. "Is everything okay? Has something happened?"

"No, well… I don't-... I've found something."

"Yes…?"

"So… I sometimes browse through the mating sites, to see if yours is hiding away somewhere-"

"Raven!"

"I haven't signed you up! I promised I wouldn't, but uh… well…" She motioned at the screen, moving to one side as Charles came to stand by her to look at what she wanted to show him, It looked more like a craigslist ad than a dating site.

"That's your name, right?"

Charles nodded, eyes glued to the accompanying photo of a signature, practically identical to the one on his wrist.

"I'm sorry."

He finally managed to tear his eyes from the picture to read the surrounding text.

'To whomever bears this name on their wrist, I am sorry to tell you your mate does not wish to be found, If you yourself were not looking for him, then disregard this; if you were I suggest looking elsewhere for love.
'He does not believe he is in need of a mate, and is not honourable enough to tell you this himself. I post this as a friend concerned for his friend's choices. He is not aware of this post, but I felt it necessary you be contacted, whoever you are.
'I hope you find happiness, you do not deserve the negativity he would have brought into your life.'

Charles jumped at Raven's hand touching his arm; he huffed a resigned sigh and flipped the laptop's lid shut.

"Charles, I-"

"I need a drink."

Raven watched her brother stumble over to the wine-rack, pulling free a bottle, reading the label before nodding, moving to find the corkscrew. She wasn't shocked when he forewent a glass, drinking straight from the bottle.

"Nineteen-fifty-eight, good year," he sighed, reading the label again.

"Charles-"

"So what's next? I brought a ton of stamps, shall we get sticking?"

"Should we not talk about-"

"About how the mate I've been pining for has abandoned me without even meeting me, didn't even tell me himself, and now there's an empty space inside of me I'm hoping to fill with a fifty-year-old Merlot which would go great with a roast beef dinner but instead I'm drinking it straight from the bottle like a tramp… Why would we talk about that? My darling sister has found her soulmate, she wasn't deserted via the internet, and is getting married! This is supposed to be a happy occasion!"

Raven sighed, pulling her brother into her arms. "I'm so sorry, Charles, I always hoped your mate was just shy, or wasn't even in the country, but… He obviously doesn't deserve you."

Charles let out a shuddering breath, his fingers digging in to Raven's shoulders. "He hasn't even met me, Raven. How does he know?"

"Really, Charles, he doesn't deserve you-"

"Plenty more fish in the sea and all that; any more clichés you'd like to plague me with?"

Raven gave Charles a soft pinch. "Don't be an ass, Charles."

"I'm sorry… Come on, let's plan your wedding, I don't want to think about this… if you're good, I might even share some of my wine."

Raven forced a smile, ushering her brother over to the kitchen table. "I think you'll find it's my wine, actually."

Erik was suspicious his friends were up to something, ever since he'd shouted at Azazel, neither he nor Janos had mentioned soulmates. They'd still demanded his presence at their anniversary celebrations, but their reasoning for his presence had gone from him finding his mate to him being supportive of his friends. It had been several days since Azazel had even said the word "soulmate", which was a worrying record. He didn't trust Azazel and Janos as far as he could throw them; they were definitely up to something.

They still rubbed their happiness in his face, Janos spending an unusual amount of time down on their floor, pressed against Azazel in some way. Erik just figured it had to do with their upcoming anniversary; he found it hard to believe it had been two years already. Two years since Janos had stumbled gracelessly into their lives; two years since Azazel's permanent scowl had been replaced with an idiotic, besotted grin. Erik had to admit it was nice to see his only friend happy, despite all his grumblings to the contrary, and he understood deep down why Azael wanted the same for him.

He wondered if deep, deep down, he did want to find his mate; if he secretly hoped Azazel would succeed in finding Erik his mate. He'd usually follow such thoughts with a punishing tug of his chest hair, an attempt to nip his brooding behaviour in the bud, telling himself off to letting his friends in his head. However, the more he tried not to think about it, and punished himself, the more he thought about it, and daydreamed, and fantasised. It worried him how much he'd started imagining a faceless man fitting into the empty spaces in his life; sprawled on the sofa reading; greeting him with a cup of coffee after his morning run; little things that he was finding harder and harder to deny he wanted.

The only thing that kept him grounded, that reminded him of his choice to not seek out his soulmate was the photo of his parents on his dresser, and seeing Emma stalk about the office with her blank face. He didn't want the pain that came with losing one's soulmate, determined to not become a bitter, empty husk of a man - he could usually hear Azazel in his head telling him he already was.

The bar Azazel had chosen was the seedy sort, with too-dim lights and music that consisted largely of a pounding bassline. He'd assured Erik it was a classy joint, but clearly their notions of what "classy" were completely different. The only well-lit area of the club was the bar itself, the back wall of which was lined with mirrors to reflect the bright lights back into one's eyes, effectively blinding them, thus making the whole thing redundant.

"Go get us some drinks! Janos and I shall find somewhere to sit!" Azazel grinned, shoving a wad of bills into Erik's hand. Erik watched with a blank expression as the couple manhandled each other over to the line of booths, stopping intermittently to suck the other's internal organs out through their mouths. Sighing, Erik wandered up to the bar, managing to find a decent spot to not get blinded, waiting patiently for the bartender to see him.

The bartender was short in stature, but well-built, with an excess of body-hair and a menacing frown. Erik mused that working in club like this would definitely be enough to quell one's happiness. He watched as he poured two shots of vodka for a customer, downing one himself with no recoil; he seemed like the kind of man that Erik could have been friends with - the term "friends" used very lightly. The bartender finally noticed Erik and stomped over, draping his towel over his shoulder.

"What can I get ya, bub?"

"A vodka, a tequila, and a bottle of bleach."

The bartender barked out a laugh, grabbing two shot glasses. "Looking to kill yourself, or just like the taste of bleach?"

Erik sighed, watching him pour the drinks. "The former."

"Not here of your own free will then, huh?"

"Friends' anniversary, and as the moron who got them together, I'm required for the celebrations."

"My condolences. You guys picked a Hell of a night, got a bachelorette party in tonight."

Erik groaned, dropping his head onto the bar. "Fantastic."

"So, what're you drinking? I've got a nice little thing under the bar, 150 proof…"

"Um… no. Just a whiskey, please."

"Suit yourself, bub, but you'll be wanting it later. Lots of screeching, drunk women."

"Until then…" He slid across some money, muttering for the bartender to keep the change and took the drinks over to the booth Azazel and Janos had managed to snag. Their bodies were pressed close together, Azazel muttering in Janos' ear. Erik huffed, placing the drinks down on the table before flopping down ungainly. He dragged his glass closer to him, glancing around the bar to check his surroundings. The dancefloor wasn't particularly large, but the stage was open for people to dance on too. Two walls were lined with booths, the largest of which Erik noticed contained the bachelorette party.

"Oh Erik, you returned!"

Erik looked back at Azazel, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"We thought you would have run."

"I considered it, but with you paying for drinks, I figured I'd wait until I was sufficiently wasted before stumbling home."

"I thought you don't like to drink."

Erik shrugged, picking up his glass, watching the liquid swirl around. "Some days, I really need to pretend I'm dead."

"Very well… To us!"

Janos toasted with Azazel, Erik shook his head, gulping his drink down, wincing at the burn.

Charles had the first genuine smile on his face since he'd first gotten the news about his soulmate, even if it was barely a smile at all; Raven was sat beside him, grinning inanely, wearing a pink feather boa and bridal veil and cheering loudly. Their friends were sat around them, alcohol already coursing through their systems; the women also wearing feather boas, along with Alex. Charles had a sash draped over him, reading "maid of honour" - Raven had tried forcing a tiara on his head but he'd drawn the line there.

Pouring himself another margarita, Charles took a look around their group of friends, feeling very out of place. Everyone else had found their soulmate and was happy - with the exception of maybe Moira who wasn't quite sure how she'd ended up with Sean, seven years her junior with a bad marijuana habit. Alex and Darwin were smitten, Angel was glowing having recently met her soulmate in one of Charles' classes, and Raven was, of course, due to get married. And he was alone, and would be alone for the rest of his life, unless he chose to find something close to happiness with someone else.

"Charles! Don't be such a downer, it's Raven's party! Get some more vodka in you!" Moira shouted, pouring a shot for him. Charles forced a grin, holding up a placating hand.

"I'm fine, Moira, just got a little lost in thought."

"You should take a shot anyway."

She swapped out his margarita, grinning and waggling her eyebrows until Charles relented and drank the shot. The table erupted into cheers, Moira giving Charles a hearty pat on the shoulder. He let out an undignified yelp when Raven wrapped an arm around his neck and dragged him closer to her.

"Don't you dare be miserable tonight, Charles. I'm going to find you a man tonight if it kills me. You don't have to marry him, but at least promise me you'll take him home and not let him leave until you can't walk!"

Charles stared wide-eyed at his sister, trying to pry himself from her deceptively strong grip. "Raven! You should not be this invested in my sex life!"

Raven shrugged. "If I'm going to be even slightly invested, I may as well be fully invested. And you haven't had sex in too long, it's time for your dry streak to be over, and you'd better do it before your hand files for divorce."

"Thank you, for being so crass… It astounds me we're related."

"Don't play coy, you're filthy and depraved!"

"Not as much as you."

"You want filthy and depraved? I have tales to tell."

"No! In my eyes Hank is a viginal unicorn."

Raven laughed maniacally, easing up on her hold of her brother. "Oh Charles, that ship sailed a long time ago. Hank is actually quite kinky, let me tell you-"

"Absolutely not! You can bloody well fuck off! I'm going to go sit at the bar and drink away my sorrows. If you see a good looking man, do bring him over so I can reject him and continue my night."

Sean slumped over the table, slapping his hand over Charles' arm. "You're a party pooper, Charles. A real pooper of parties. You see parties and you poop on them!"

Charles gave Moira a concerned look. "Is he… Should he be taken home?"

Moira shrugged, pouring herself another drink. "He's good."

"Right, well, I'm going to the bar." Charles managed to pull himself up, wobbling a little at first and made his way over to the bar, dodging a few overzealous dancers. He slipped up onto a barstool, dropping his head into his hands, taking a deep breath.

"Need a stiff drink, bub?"

Charles looked up, peering through the gaps between his fingers. The bartender laughed, pulling down a glass from the shelf behind him. Charles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Whiskey, please. A lot of it."

"Want me to leave you with the bottle?"

"Please."

"So… maid of honour, huh?"

Charles looked down, sighing at the sash, pulling it over his head. "My sister's getting married."

"So you're the bachelorette party?"

"Yes, unfortunately… when did women get so frank about their sex lives?"

"I know, feminism, right?"

Charles choked out a laugh, ruffling his hair. "Well, no… I suppose… Obviously that's not the issue… I think it's because it's my sister."

"Always gross when it's family. You don't know the worst of it; I work here, I get all the tales. Want to hear about a guy who tried a bit of switcheroo with his woman and ended up shitting himself?"

"God no!"

"Neither did I."

Charles sobbed into his hand, pouring some whiskey into his glass. "I didn't need that image."

"Drink it away, bub."

"If I have nightmares I'm filing a lawsuit."

The barkeep chuckled, moving away to serve someone else. Charles sighed, staring down into his glass. He passed time occasionally drinking, drifting off into his thoughts, and chatting with the barkeeper. Only once Raven wandered over to check he was fine and refresh the tables' drinks.

Someone slumped heavily on the bar next to him, snapping his fingers for the barkeep's attention. Charles glanced over his shoulder at the man, giving him an appreciative look; he didn't look like he was enjoying his evening either.

"What can I get you now?"

"Was it a no before on the bleach?"

The barkeep laughed, drumming his fingers on the bar. "What's it for?"

"My friends are getting a bit… intimate, you may need it later. Also, I wouldn't say no to drinking it."

Charles chuckled, turning to face the man. "I wouldn't say no to some."

The man turned to look at him, giving him an obvious once-over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Uh… Max."

Charles chewed the inside of his lip; he knew when to recognise a fake name, debating whether to give one in return. "Um, Francis."

"Logan. Not that anyone cares."

Max gave the barkeep a smirk. "Apologies. A whiskey again, and… whatever he's drinking."

Logan nodded, wandering off to fetch another bottle of whiskey.

"Drinking away your sorrows?" Charles asked. Max slipped up onto the stool beside him, leaning closer.

"If I were, I'd be here for a week."

Charles chuckled. "I'm with you there."

Logan returned, plonking a bottle of whiskey between them. "Happy drinking… Pay me."

Max smirked, pulling a wad of bills from his pocket. "Keep the change."

"You're very generous."

"Oh, I'm really not… see it as compensation from my friend, for the upholstery."

"Gotcha." He gave Charles a quick look of concern before leaving them alone. Charles smiled as Max poured his drink.

"So… Max… What's your story?"

Max shrugged, pulling his own glass closer. "I hate everyone and everything, and I've been forced here against my will because I involuntarily and accidentally caused my friend to meet his soulmate two years ago."

"Hate everyone and everything, and you have a friend?"

"He's one of the few people I can stand. I work with him, I have to."

"Fair enough."

Max smirked around his glass, eyeing Charles out of the corner of his eyes, taking a quick sip on his whiskey. "So… what about you?"

Charles huffed, pausing to gulp down his drink and pour another before answering. "I've been recently… dumped. Ditched, whatever."

"Ah."

"By my soulmate."

"Wow, really? That's… serious."

Charles nodded, cradling his glass against his chin. "Yeah… Hasn't even met me, but he still knows he doesn't want anything to do with me."

"How'd you find out?"

"Some dating site… My sister found a picture of his signature with a message… It's currently battling it out with the death of my father for 'worst moment of my life'."

"I'm sorry."

Charles shrugged, gulping down his second glass. "It's not your fault."

Max sighed, finally finishing his first glass. "I never really bought into the idea of soulmates… Just… the pain. The heartbreak of losing them."

"Everyone's afraid of that… I remember my sister, after she'd just gotten together with Hank she watched one of those stupid romantic movies without the happy ending… She cried for about four hours, sobbing into my jumper about how afraid she was to lose him and if it was worth getting with him at all."

"Oh?"

"Obviously she decided yes. She's never been so happy. She'd never trade it for anything… They're getting married in a week."

"My friends say I'm an idiot for being apprehensive, but… self-preservation and all that."

Charles frowned. "Surely you must get lonely."

Max paused, staring up at his reflection in the mirrors, ignoring Charles' concern. "A little," he finally admitted. "Not that I'd admit that to them… I have them, and I have my work. I'm fine."

"But sometimes you lie awake at night, feeling like something's missing?"

Max forced a smile, reaching out for the bottle of whiskey. "Yeah…"

"Have you never thought about maybe reaching out to your soulmate? Have you not considered the pain's worth it?"

"Nope. I remember how empty my mother was when my father died. I don't want that for myself."

Charles sighed. "But… It was the same with my mother, but… the good times were so plentiful. My parents had a deep love for each other, and I see how my friends are with their mates and… you'll always have those memories. The pain is always worth it."

"That's where we differ in opinions, my friend."

Erik ran his finger around the rim of his glass, smiling at the story Francis was telling him about his sister. He tried not to think about how much he was enjoying the stranger's company and focused instead on what he was saying. He couldn't remember the last time he'd suddenly clicked with someone like he had with Francis; he couldn't remember the first time, or even any time. He could hear Azazel singing something smug in the back of his head but blocked it out, taking a swig of whiskey.

"So did it ruin your life when they got together?"

Francis laughed - he had a beautiful laugh. "For a while. I hate the honeymoon phase."

Erik chuckled. "Two years later and my friends are still in the honeymoon phase. Too many times I've come back to the office and they're at it on his desk."

"Hank was never the type. He was shy and easily flushed, and now I stumble on them in the cupboard or something just as high school cliché."

"How wonderful for you."

"Absolutely… I'm happy for them, obviously I am, but…"

"They could do well to keep their happiness away from you?"

"Exactly."

Erik smirked, staring into his drink like it was the most fascinating thing he'd seen. "Do they nag you? About finding your mate?"

"Yes, sort of. I mean, I wanted to find him too, but apparently I wasn't doing enough… and then the… thing happened… and now she's intent on finding me a nice man to settle down with, or, if failing that, a good shag."

Erik choked out a laugh, coughing into his hand. "Excuse me?!"

"I know, a sister should not be so invested in her brother's sex life."

"I've had a therapist less invested in my sex life!"

Francis laughed, a full-bodied laugh, throwing his head back. Erik smirked at the reaction, finishing off his drink and refilling both his and Francis' glasses. Francis let out a loud sigh, propping his chin up on his fist.

"So anyway… apart from being hilarious and attractive, what do you do?"

"I don't think 'being attractive' is something that I do," Erik smirked. "But… I work with architects… I'm the guy who tells the people who drew up the designs if they can build it, with what, where, et cetera."

"Ah, so not an architect yourself?"

"Used to be, now I just boss them about."

Francis smiled, holding his glass up to his lips, eyes locked with Erik's. "So, are you responsible for anything I may recognise?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Francis chuckled, downing the contents of his glass, wincing at the slight burn that he hadn't yet adjusted to. "I see how it is… Do you enjoy being difficult?"

"Very much so."

"Are you going to give anything away?"

"Not without a fight."

"Any specific venue in mind?"

"Well, not to brag, but there is a hotel I helped design not too far from here. They always have room for me…"

Francis leant closer, looking up at Erik through his eyelashes. "Is that so?"

"Do you not believe me?"

"Well, I suppose you'll have to take me there, and prove me wrong."

Erik grinned, slipping from his stool. "Very well. Is there anyone you need to notify of your disappearance, or shall we go?"

"Just a second. I should probably go tell my sister she can leave me alone about my life choices."

Francis quickly hurried into the crowds, leaving Erik to slouch back against the bar and wait for him.

"So, he's your soulmate, huh?"

Erik spun around, Logan was leaning on the bar, grinning at him. Erik shook his head, glancing back to the crowd. "No."

"No? You've been scratching at your wrist pretty intensely since you met him. I've seen soulmates meet before, bub, they've only ever got eyes for each other, and let me tell you, he couldn't take his eyes off you for two seconds."

Erik curled his fingers around his arm, suddenly aware of the tingling in his wrist. "I didn't come here for your advice, thank you."

"He's a nice guy. Don't fuck him over."

"He's a grown man, and you're not his protector."

"You're also an asshole."

Francis finally emerged from the crowd with a coat and an definite blush on his face. He stepped up to Erik, straightening his collar. "Ready. Also, I hate my sister."

Erik smirked, pulling his wad of bills from his breast pocket, stuffing three into Logan's fist. "Nice chat. Come on, let's go."

Logan muttered under his breath as he watched the two men leave his bar. Erik quickly hailed a cab and bundled himself and Francis inside, rattling off an address to the driver. The drive was pleasantly quiet, neither man feeling the need to fill the silence with inane small-talk; Francis had his head against the window, watching the streets pass by, his knee bumping against Erik's leg whenever the car jerked. Erik smiled to himself, feeling something akin to excitement brewing in his stomach; he wasn't entirely sure what he was excited for, or even if it was excitement and not vomit. Francis was definitely attractive, even by his standards, and had actually made him laugh, which was, in and of itself, a rare feat.

The cab finally pulled to a stop; Erik paid the driver and led Francis into the building. The hotel wasn't particularly fancy, the floors weren't solid marble with gilded stairs, but it was definitely nicer than some of the hotels he'd stayed in throughout his adult life - and the fact he'd helped create the building gave him a sense of pride.

Francis politely lingered away from the front desk, pretending to read the flyers and notices on the bulletin board whilst Erik got them a room; with a quick flash of his I.D. and a small amount of paperwork he and Francis finally made their way up to the room.

"Did you really design this hotel?" Francis asked, walking around their room, peering out of the window. Erik smirked, slipping his coat from his shoulders, draping it over the chair by the desk.

"Myself and three others."

"It's… pretty amazing. Did you design this room?"

"Perhaps."

Francis laughed, wandering over to where Erik was stood, slipping off his own coat. "Still not giving anything away?" He dropped his coat onto the chair, making sure to take a couple of steps closer into Erik's personal space.

"I'd hate to give everything away at once, a man needs some secrets, or he has no mystery."

"I suppose."

Erik smirked, raising his hand to push some of Francis' hair back from his face, letting his fingers trail down the side of his neck. His stomach felt like it was no longer grounded, instead floating about inside him, his lungs rejecting every breath he took. Francis blinked up at him, fluttering his eyelashes more than necessary. He pressed his cheek into Erik's palm, biting gently on his bottom lip.

"And what of your secrets?"

"I don't keep secrets," Francis smiled; he hesitantly brushed his fingers up Erik's side, curling them around his waist to pull himself a few inches closer, lifting his chin. Erik's face softened as he looked down, staring straight into Francis' eyes.

"Everyone has secrets." Erik could feel their bodies drawing even closer, the space between them virtually nonexistent. The air around them was heavy and full of static, the hairs on the back of his neck were stood up on end. His eyes fluttered shut when his nose brushed against Francis', their breaths mingling.

"I may have a few," Francis murmured, quickly running his tongue over his lips. Erik felt like something was weakly repelling him from Francis, their mouths hovering just apart from each other, like the same poles of two magnets. He finally yielded, capturing Francis' lips with his own, letting out a breath of relief through his nose. Francis moaned low in his throat, reaching his other arm to wrap around Erik's neck, pulling their bodies as close as they could get, Erik curling his arm around his middle.

Erik felt as if his brain had switched off, his lips kissing back autonomously. All he could feel was tingling of his skin where he was touching Francis, and the empty feeling in his stomach, like all of his organs had vanished. He felt dizzy from the kiss, and an insatiable urge to get them both onto the closest flat surface.

Francis moaned again, pulling away enough to look up into Erik's eyes. "Wow."

AN: So, I need your help... I have no clue how to introduce Erik and Charles as Erik and Charles. I know I want Charles to be the one to discover Erik's identity, but how? Will it be happy or angry or? If you guys want to throw some suggestions my way, I'm open to ideas. I have a rough idea, but any help would be appreciated (: