Work Text:
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
Other Notes: The title is from this Emily Dickinson poem. All mistakes are mine. I love feedback.
The Body Grows Outside
At fifteen, Charlie has become a light sleeper, and the futon in his dad's living room wasn't comfortable even before Charlie's legs started dangling over its end. So, as the sound of his dad and Dan -- Charlie tries for maturity by dropping the 'Uncle' label -- whispering rouses him, he thinks they must have just started.
Figuring he might as well tell them he's up, he rolls off the futon. Only when his sleep-tingly hands pry his dad's bedroom door further ajar does he realize that they've started more than whispering.
He was assuming Dan slept on the floor all these times, but this more doesn't look new. At least neither of them is . . . at least they're both wearing clothes. Charlie's mouth is dry and tastes like socks; he has enough time to wonder if they brushed their teeth first, before Dan's lips at Charlie's dad's throat make his dad's eyes roll back, opening, pinning him in the doorway.
"Charlie," his dad says in a raspy voice that freaks him out more than the visual did.
When he turns away, behind him are crashing sounds and his unfamiliar name. He stumbles through the living room, shoves on a jacket and sneakers with his T-shirt and sweats, and manages to yell, "I'll come back later," as he goes out the door.
Dan -- crap, Uncle Dan -- is a great guy, and so is his dad, except they suddenly aren't quite the guys he knew. They're strangers who make out in his dad's bed, and, yeah, now the visual is freaking him out.
Charlie walks around for hours, cell phone off after the third ring, which is probably freaking his dad out in turn. At first he thinks that's only fair and wants to yell as much at his dad, but then he remembers what his dad looks like scared and angry.
He remembers his mom and dad fighting before (during, after) the divorce.
Remembering that and then remembering Dan kissing his dad, he can see how much happier his dad is.
Thumbing the power button on his cell, Charlie speed-dials his dad's number. The first ring is aborted by a "Hello?" that's still raspy, just in a way that Charlie recognizes.
"Dad," he says, almost whispering through the mix of confusion and understanding, "It's okay. I'm okay."
"Charlie, God, we were so worried." That 'we' wouldn't have been surprising even before today; now it sounds right, but his dad is babbling, "I'm sorry, Charlie."
When he says, "It's okay" again, knowing that's true, Charlie smiles into the phone.
- end -