Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today marked exactly twenty-five years since Charles had died, but since that was a bit morbid to remember, he preferred to think of it as the anniversary of meeting his best friend, instead. At least it gave him an excuse to give Edwin something nice, even though Edwin seemed less into commemorating the day.

It meant he spent another morning trawling through Edwin’s favourite bookshops in search of the perfect gift. It was a whole quarter-century, after all. That was a big one. A bit mental to think about, honestly. But nothing was good enough for the occasion. Charles was starting to wish he’d set aside more than a few days – shared with cases, too – for his search, but it was too late for that sort of thing. Only way out was through, even if he had to dip into their working hours for it.

He finally struck gold at a strange little bookshop in Soho, nabbing a first edition Agatha Christie that he was pretty sure Edwin would like. None of the books in this shop were marked with prices, but Charles took a guess, left a decent tip on the empty desk, and whisked himself and the goods away.

There was a new client in their office by the time Charles made it home. Edwin had just started, because he always had a way of sensing when Charles was close. “Welcome to the Dead Boy Detective Agency, I am Edwin Payne. My partner should be returning shortly. Why don’t you tell me about your case?”

“Yes, of course,” said the client, perfectly politely. Charles fiddled with his book, wondering whether he should save it for after the case, or just slip it onto the desk and hope Edwin didn’t kick up a fuss. “I am seeking justice.”

“That is quite usual for murdered ghosts,” Edwin reassured him. His bedside manner was improving! Charles was so proud. “How did you –”

“No, no, I wasn’t murdered. It was an incident that has haunted me, if you will excuse my wording, for years.” A pause. “I want justice for –”

“Charles Rowland, hi!” said Charles, already wincing at his own timing. He hadn’t realised the ghost was winding up to the big reveal. Whoops. But at least that was introductions over. Charles settled on the corner of the desk, put the book down just quick enough to not be suspicious, and smiled at their client. “Sorry for interrupting, mate, you were saying?”

But their client wasn’t saying much of anything. His brown skin had gone sickeningly pale, even for a ghost. There was something familiar about his face, which Charles couldn’t quite put his finger on, until he started going through his living memories, too. Their client looked a bit like Aysar’s dad, that was it. But that was impossible – it’d been twenty-five years since Charles last saw him. He wouldn’t still look the same age.

“Charles,” said the client, shooting out of the chair, his eyes dark and wide.

Said… Aysar.

Charles’ stomach lurched. “Oh, no.”

At the sight of Charles entering, Edwin had been unable to contain some measure of relief; while he excelled at noting the technical details of cases, he was less adept at handling the ghosts’ accompanying emotions. But now, after the potential client’s sudden movement and Charles’ visible distress, Edwin wished he had remained away. Charles had made certain… comments over the years, seemingly accidental, but enough to allude to a less-than-ideal childhood. If someone from his past had come to haunt him – if Edwin had invited them in –

“My apologies,” he said curtly. “Some urgent business has come up, if you would –”

Edwin had intended to gesture the man out. Charles got there first. His arms came around the man in a grapple, and Edwin stepped out of the way so that he could be forcefully shown the door. Except they did not move. Nor was the hold aggressive enough to be called a grapple, truly. An – embrace? Could it be? But why?

Charles withdrew from it, holding the man’s shoulders and inspecting him closely. His eyes were tear-filled, his expression plainly devastated. “No, no, why are you dead? You were supposed to be safe!”

“Charles…”

Pleading now: “I kept you safe, Aysar!”

Ah.

When he knew to look for it, Edwin could recognise certain traces of the terrified boy he had seen so many years ago. Charles had rarely spoken of him since then, though what little he mentioned was invariably fond. Edwin understood. The fact of his seventy years in Hell was easy enough to discuss; the particulars less so. The events that caused it, he avoided entirely. And yet Edwin could not forget Aysar, who had been the catalyst for Edwin staying with Charles – in more ways than one. He had only meant to gift a lantern to a cold boy, after all, but Charles’ suspicion, combined with the oh-so-familiar boys prowling the school corridors, had alighted his curiosity. The explanation of Aysar’s part in the proceedings – one very much like Edwin’s had been, labelled different, labelled outcast, labelled sacrifice – had tied Edwin to Charles as surely as his every decision since. Here was a boy that, when faced with injustice, would rebel even against his own friends to stand up and say, This is wrong, and I will not pretend otherwise. I will do all I can to right it. Edwin would always hold grief for the life that Charles had lost; Edwin would always find selfish joy for having met Charles and being able to keep him, if only for a while.

He was simply lucky enough that Charles wished to keep him, in return.

Aysar was saying, “You did keep me safe, Charles. You saved me. My death was an accident, that’s all. It happens. And I had two wonderful decades before I died, which is more than you got.” His hands came up to stroke soothingly over Charles’ arms. Edwin found the motion difficult to look away from. Charles and Aysar were the same age, technically, and yet Charles appeared so young next to his own peer.

Charles seemed soothed by the contact, at least. He took a few deep breaths and wiped his tears, quickly returning to business. “Sorry for interrupting, mate. What was your case, then? Justice for someone?”

Edwin stared. Surely nothing about their conversation could be misconstrued? Yet that was Charles, thinking of everyone first and himself last. Charles had been the one to proclaim them best friends – Edwin would never have presumed – but had also immediately asked, “If that’s alright with you, mate? No worries if not.” As if being his best friend was not the highest privilege Edwin could aspire to. A task he considered to be of more import than the majority of their cases. A gift he sometimes felt unworthy of. If that’s alright with you. Hmph.

It seemed Aysar was in agreement. He frowned at Charles. “Yes, Charles, maybe the boy who saved my life? You know, my best friend, does that sound familiar?”

Oh.

Edwin didn’t… Edwin didn’t like that. He knew the meaning of best friend had changed, that it could refer to multiple beloved friends. Yet he’d felt some possessiveness of the superlative ‘best’ in relation to his friendship with Charles. Because Charles was, without a doubt, the very best friend that Edwin had ever had. Somewhat naïvely, he’d expected that fact to be mirrored. It was utterly ridiculous – it was Charles, after all, who made friends easier than breathing. His friendship with Aysar had been before he had ever met Edwin, besides, and from his stories, Edwin could glean they had known each other for roughly a year, which hardly compared to their own friendship’s comfortable twenty-five years. But some grasping, lonely part of Edwin – birthed by distant parents and fostered in Hell – feared that Charles’ gaze would turn from him completely; that Charles would rather follow his other best friend into the serene afterlife that must await them; that he would prefer to gift Aysar with his whip-smart comments and precious smiles and constant companionship. It was that part that cried out for Charles to refute the words, to point instead to Edwin and say, This is my best friend, now.

Charles didn’t do that. Charles ducked his head and smiled shyly.

Edwin cleared his throat, and Charles’ eyes snapped to him as if at last recalling his presence. His smile was still for Edwin, though. For now. Aysar watched with open curiosity.

“You met Edwin, yeah?” Charles asked brightly.

“Yes, he introduced himself,” said Aysar. “I’m afraid I didn’t return the favour. Aysar Saeed, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand.

Edwin shook it politely. “A pleasure, Mr Saeed.”

“Oh, just Aysar is fine for any friend of Charles!” Edwin rankled at the insinuation that he was a mere friend, but kept his peace for Charles’ sake. “I saw the agency was established in 1990? Were you…?”

“Yeah, we started it way back then. Brills idea, isn’t it?” Charles had returned to his usual spot on the desk. As he should. “I mean, we met in 1989, it just took a while to iron out. But we’ve been together ever since.”

Aysar’s expression did something strange. “Together?”

Edwin waited for Charles to confirm. And waited. And waited. A glance up showed Charles wearing his own strange expression, his face jarringly serious without his smile. But Charles needn’t be the only spokesperson for their friendship. Edwin said crisply, “Yes, that is the case.”

The source of Aysar’s strange expression, it turned out, was a concealed smile. Revealed, it lit his entire face. Edwin blinked several times. Aysar was an attractive man, aesthetically speaking, that was all. He said, simply, “That’s good. I’m glad to hear that.”

Charles looked away from both of them, colour high on his cheeks. He cleared his throat. “This case, then –”

“We’ll take it.”

“What?” Charles turned his entire body to face Edwin. A fact that shouldn’t leave Edwin feeling victorious. Yet here they were. “What happened to playing hardball, discussing payment, all that? We’ve reached our quota for pro bono work, mate, I know we have.” He kept his voice somewhat quiet, but not nearly enough to be inaudible to Aysar, who was staring studiously in the other direction, as if that would hide his small smile. Charles was too befuddled, it seemed, to perform their usual relocation to the closet for professional disagreements. Edwin could not fathom why.

“Yes, well.” Edwin straightened the stack of books to his right. “We can afford to be flexible with the quota, and I believe we have time to spare, do we not? Mr Saeed – my apologies, Aysar – is a recent ghost, after all. No payment is necessary.”

Charles was still frowning at him. “Flexible with the quota? Do you hear yourself?”

Was Edwin required to spell this out? “Charles, this case is of personal interest to a co-founder of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. I do believe an exception can be made.”

“That makes it a conflict of interest, if anything. Or nepotism, innit?” Charles’ smile was tentative.

“Nevertheless.”

“I don’t need it, you know.” His voice was quiet, now. Just for the two of them. How lucky Edwin was to have him.

“Then it is a good thing I wasn’t talking about you,” Edwin said, somewhat snide in pure reflex. Realisation dawned slowly and beautifully on Charles’ face. Any case involving him was of vital importance to Edwin, after all. Charles might insist on diminishing his own stake in the business, but he could hardly do the same to Edwin’s. Edwin refused to allow it.

A smile spread over Charles’ face, and it was Edwin’s favourite inasmuch as all his smiles were. Not his wide and dazzling grin, nor the saucy smile he aimed at girls he took a liking to. It was small and shy and filled with gentle warmth, an unusual fit for Charles’ animated face. It was unquestionably Edwin’s – he had never seen it worn around anyone else.

A gentle cough caused both of them to snap around to where Aysar was still sitting. Their client. Ah, yes. It was considered unprofessional, not to mention rude, to ignore clients (and other acquaintances) in favour of each other. Aysar’s smile was ever-present, though, seemingly unbothered by the interruption.

Feeling caught out, Edwin straightened his posture and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Apologies. As I said, we will be taking your case. Could you provide us with the particulars?”

“Oh – of course. Um, Charles, do you know what happened after your…”

“Nah,” Charles said easily. “We left pretty quickly, didn’t we? No good hanging around if Death’s been there recently, not when we were on the run from her.” And because Edwin had pushed for their departure, he didn’t add. Edwin had had fairly little experience as a ghost at that time, but he’d spoken to whoever he could, desperate for interactions that were untouched by Hell. Many had given him the – useless to Edwin – advice of letting living relatives go. They would move on from your death, or they wouldn’t, and the pain of either was unbearable. It was a lonely thought, even as a ghost to whom it did not apply. At least Edwin had been able to pass the advice along to Charles.

“‘We’?” Aysar asked. He gestured between them. “When you say you met in 1989…”

“Yeah, Edwin’s a St. Hilarion’s alumnus too, aren’t you, mate?” Charles patted him on the shoulder. He didn’t expound on the matter, even though it was normally his favourite thing to do. Was he ashamed to tell the story of how they met in front of his old best friend?

Edwin sniffed. “Alumnus implies I managed to graduate, which was not the case.”

Aysar’s face fell. “I’m… I’m very sorry to hear that.”

It was a meaningless platitude. Yet Edwin had hardly ever been the recipient of it. Aysar’s manner of speaking even made Edwin believe that he meant it. “Yes, well, it was approximately a century ago, so no need to worry.”

“Oh.” Aysar blinked in surprise, but with a little shake of his head, he returned to the matter at hand. Edwin could appreciate the attribute. “St. Hilarion’s tried to say you ran away, Charles, but your parents insisted on an investigation. Mine did, too, after I told them what happened, and then the other parents got scared of their kids going missing. They searched the entire school grounds, and they found your… they found the body in some old attic.” He lowered his head, covering his mouth as tears mangled his voice.

This was usually when Charles would take the seat next to the client and offer some comforting words or touch, as he deemed necessary. Now he sat motionless. It was no surprise that discussing his own death would affect him so. Edwin didn’t trust himself with comforting, though, and so they remained in the uncomfortable tableau, quiet in the face of Aysar’s tears.

Eventually, he recovered enough to continue. “But the school said it must’ve been a prank gone wrong. Or a dare to jump into the creek, that kind of thing.” Charles shivered minutely. “I knew none of those boys would speak up when it meant admitting their own guilt. So I went to the principal. I told him what happened. He said… he said that it was their word against mine, and that, even if I was right, we shouldn’t ruin their futures because of one mistake.” Aysar shook his head, his eyes tightly shut. “The prank story became the official one, because otherwise parents might’ve been annoyed at their precious sons getting accused of anything. If those boys got a slap on the wrist, it would be a miracle.”

“St. Hilarion’s… covered it up?” Charles asked, his voice utterly blank of emotion.

Edwin looked up from the notes he’d taken – unusually shaky handwriting, that; he would need to rewrite it at a suitable time – to ask, “You did not attempt to contact the authorities?”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Aysar said, voice hollow.

“The police weren’t exactly interested in a brown kid telling them about brown kids getting beat on or murdered,” Charles explained.

Edwin felt a flash of shame. Race was an easy concept to ignore when you were largely unaffected by it. In life, he’d been judged for his strange manner, but less so than others had been for the colour of their very skin. Never had he approached a policeman with the fear that his word would not be taken seriously, not when he had his family’s considerable wealth to give it weight. That was a privilege awarded to few, he’d come to realise. “Of course. My apologies.”

“Leaving it like that didn’t feel right, but there wasn’t much I could do.” Aysar continued, his gaze downcast. “I know you didn’t want your dad –” Something complex and unspoken passed between him and Charles. Aysar did not finish the sentence. “I spoke to your mum, let her know what really happened, so she could at least have some closure.”

“Thanks,” Charles said quietly. “I mean it, Aysar. I’m… I’m glad she knows.” Out of Aysar’s sight, his left hand held on to the desk’s edge, tight enough that his knuckles whitened, the memory of bone against skin coming to fore. Edwin was miserable at comforting people, but this was Charles. He moved his own left hand subtly closer, letting the sides of their palms brush as if by accident. If it had been an accident, Edwin would have removed his hand immediately. Instead he kept it there, letting his little finger extend to rest against Charles’ hand. Ever so slowly, the grip relaxed, the knuckles fading to their normal light brown, and Charles slid his hand up so that their fingers rested side-by-side, aligning from nail to base and base to nail.

“It really was the least I could do,” Aysar replied. Edwin felt a sense of kinship with his soft voice – the only proper response to Charles in such a vulnerable state. That anyone could see him and wish violence upon him was unthinkable.

And yet – “Could we discuss the events preceding Charles’ death?” Edwin only knew the essentials, after all, having never wished to push Charles for more. But now Charles flinched bodily, enough for their hands to separate. The space between was unbridgeable. Edwin called himself several names that were not meant for polite company. “We need not –”

“But every bit of information helps the case, innit?”

“If you need to step out, Charles…”

“I’m aces, mate,” Charles said, his smile somewhat lacklustre, but his hand nudged against Edwin’s. He bridged the distance between them so easily. He always had. “What better witness than the person it happened to? Wait a tick.” His face brightened, filling Edwin with one part relief and one part apprehension. “We should return to St. Hilarion’s and explore the scene of the crime properly!”

Edwin glanced at Aysar, and it seemed their thoughts aligned perfectly. Aysar began delicately, “I’m not sure –”

“It’s been too long since we’ve been to the ol’ alma mater, innit?” Charles interrupted, too taken with his idea to notice. Edwin neglected to tell him that he was satisfied to wait a century, or more, to return there. But Charles alternated his pleading face between Edwin and Aysar, and it seemed they shared that weakness, as well. Edwin found he would do many things, just to see that quintessential spark return to his brown eyes.

Edwin sighed. “Very well.”

With three ghosts, it took a simple mirror-hop, prepared by Edwin, to get them within walking distance of St. Hilarion’s. Charles took the middle spot and tried not to vibrate out of his skin with excitement about getting to be here with both of his best friends. He’d always thought they’d get along well. They were pretty alike, after all.

Also, Aysar was hot now?! Don’t get Charles wrong, he always thought Aysar was fit, but more in a cute, shy way. The years had been good to him, though, lending him a maturity and a quiet confidence that was weirdly attractive. The facial hair didn’t hurt, either.

When they got within sight of St. Hilarion’s, both Edwin and Aysar tensed. Charles felt a pang of guilt about insisting on the trip. They’d all had awful things happen to them here, after all. So what if Charles remembered it most as the place he’d got to meet the two of them? “If you don’t want to –”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles,” Edwin sniffed, squaring his shoulders like he was bracing for impact, and strode on.

Aysar shot an amused smile at Charles and followed. Bollocks. Charles hadn’t had a chance to correct that misunderstanding yet. He wasn’t exactly doing a good job of showing it with his actions, either. But after so many years of just them, he’d grown used to showing his love for Edwin in the little ways, without anyone to judge him. And now here Aysar was, too perceptive, knowing Charles far too well for how long it’d been. Charles couldn’t really stomach the idea of taking Aysar aside to tell him that the romantic love he saw was only present on Charles’ end, and entirely unwanted on Edwin’s. It didn’t matter, as long as they were together, and they were – in every way that they both wanted. Charles remembered their pinkies brushing. Bloody hell, just thinking about it filled him with warmth. Edwin wasn’t that touchy, so it meant a lot that he would do that, just to comfort Charles.

They arrived at the football field soon enough. The years hadn’t changed it much, and Charles kept an anxious eye on Aysar. This was where the worst had happened to him, after all. But maybe the field looked smaller to him, having lived so many years beyond it. Charles couldn’t exactly say the same.

“It was… around here, I guess,” Aysar said, gesturing. “I don’t remember the exact spot. I wasn’t even on the field, just walking past it on my way to the dorms, when they grabbed me. I don’t know if they just saw me and went for it, or if they would’ve done the same thing if it’d been someone else…”

Old, familiar fury rose in Charles. “No, they planned it.” Both Edwin and Aysar turned to him, but he avoided their eyes. “After football practise, they were making these comments, only I wasn’t spending as much time with them. Didn’t bother thinking about it, did I? Fuck, I was stupid. I could’ve stopped it before anything happened, instead of letting you get beat on.”

Aysar touched his shoulder gently. “Hey, none of that. You were a kid. And you didn’t let them do anything. As soon as you saw, you helped, didn’t you?” He smiled over at Edwin. “He was like an avenging angel, swooping in and tearing them off me, making sure they wouldn’t touch me again.” Edwin’s answering smile was small, but sincere.

Charles couldn’t help but smile too, even as his eyes and face burnt. “C’mon, be serious, mate.”

“I am! That’s what it felt like!” Aysar grinned. “I might’ve had a concussion at that point, but still.”

“An easy mistake to make,” Edwin said dryly, and Charles laughed, because it was either that or crying. “Charles, did you know it was Aysar before you intervened?”

“Yeah, I had a decent idea it was him.” Charles put his hands in his pockets and shrugged a little. At Edwin’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “They were, uh… screaming slurs. About him being from Pakistan. So.”

“Slurs? For being of a certain nationality?” Edwin asked, his brows wrinkling in the same way as when they’d met. “Why?”

Charles shrugged again. “Beats me, mate.”

“People will always find something to hate you for,” Aysar said, his mouth twisting. “Well, you might need to explain what happened next, Charles, because I don’t remember much of it.”

“Right, yeah.” A fucking concussion. He hadn’t even realised. What if they hadn’t all followed Charles? What if Aysar had still been there when they circled back, easy pickings? Hidden away in his pockets, Charles’ fists clenched. “They were saying some nasty shit, so I provoked them. Made a run for it, didn’t I?” He’d thought about taking Aysar along, protecting him that way, but he was pretty sure it would’ve ended with another boy bleeding out in the creek. Aysar had made it an extra twenty-five years. No need to wonder about what-ifs now.

“That sounds… dangerous,” said Edwin, frowning, like he hadn’t seen the direct aftermath of that choice. Charles didn’t reply, because what was there to say?

“What did you say?” Aysar asked. “I mean, it never seemed like they had a problem with you.”

“Apparently, stopping someone from getting beat on must mean you’re gay for them,” Charles replied, not quite keeping the bitterness out of his voice. Because that was the only reason to be a decent human being? Not that the lads had seen it that way, of course. “They were taunting me about being your boyfriend, I guess to make me back down or whatever, so I said fuck you, yes I am.”

“Oh, Charles.” Aysar’s face was heartbroken and heartbreaking, his dark eyes shiny with tears. Charles couldn’t look away from him. They’d never called it that, had they? It wasn’t the reason Charles had defended him, but it still mattered. Of course it mattered.

“It took their attention off you, at least, ‘cause they all started chasing me into the wood,” Charles continued, finally looking away. “Here, I’ll show you.” He headed for the path that would always be etched in his memories, like adrenaline had cemented every flash of it into his memory. He couldn’t successfully run away this time, either, not with the sound of footsteps behind him. Just his best mates, he reminded himself. No one else.

“I’m afraid I am somewhat confused,” said Edwin, weirdly hesitant. “Why would they care about you being Aysar’s friend?”

It took Charles a moment to remember Edwin’s rocky relationship with modern slang. “Oh – no, being boyfriends means seeing each other. Dating, courting, that sort of thing.”

“Ah,” said Edwin, slightly strangled, and nothing else.

The path was different, yet exactly the same. There were new saplings and old undergrowth and every plant in-between, but the trees looked unchanged, their growth too subtle for Charles’ untrained eyes. He felt antsy at their little trio’s slow pace, his brain screaming for them to run! The path stretched out into nothing, as if they’d keep walking and never reach the end, even though Charles remembered it being mere minutes before he’d reached the creek.

But there – in the distance, beyond the trees: a glimmer, like light hitting water.

Everything was going... not well (nothing to do with Charles’ demise could be described as such) but fine enough – until they reached the water.

The creek appeared natural, which meant there was a high probability it had existed in Edwin’s time. He could not recall visiting it, though. The wood surrounding it must have been denser at the time, and the school had forbidden them from entering it. It hadn’t stopped Edwin’s rowdy classmates, but it had stopped him.

Aysar approached the water, unconcerned, even though it must be frigid at this time of the year. But ghosts were not affected by things like temperature or moisture, so Edwin could hardly fault him. Still, he recalled Charles’ last moments, when the shivering had abated, and resolved to keep an eye on both of them. There was a reason Charles had led them here. In one way or another, he had ended up in the water. The only question was whether he had willingly entered it in a bid to escape, or if he had been… forced. It reminded Edwin far too much of hands pushing him down, ritualistic words clumsily recited, his terror answered with only laughter. But Charles had not been held down, or he would have died here as water filled his lungs, because boys who went too far never knew when to stop. Charles would’ve died surrounded but alone, and Edwin, ignorant of this creek’s existence, would never have met him.

The thought tore at his very being.

Why would anyone do this? Because Charles had defended an innocent boy. Because he was not disgusted at the thought of loving that boy instead of killing him. Every instinct screamed at Edwin to turn his face from that truth. Such things were never to be spoken of. But Charles had died for it. The least Edwin could do was acknowledge it.

Edwin thought (unbearably selfish), If Charles were there in 1916… if Charles and I were alive together, he would never have called me Mary Ann. Then, far worse, If Charles were present at the sacrifice, he would have defended me as he defended Aysar, no matter what shameful things they said about us, and…

And what? Charles defended with body and soul. He always had. If Charles had been there, he would’ve taken Edwin’s place as surely as he had taken Aysar’s. He would be the one splayed out on the table like a pinned insect, the one being jeered at by his peers, the one torn from existence on a technicality. Edwin’s memories of Hell were the worst things he knew, but imagining each of them with Charles in his place… It was unimaginable. Charles’ animated face growing drawn, his bright eyes losing their spark, his charismatic soul fracturing under the torture. Edwin would rather experience all of it again than allow that to happen.

Oh.

He would –

His train of thought was interrupted by a deep, hacking cough. Edwin blinked out of it, then stared. Despite watching all the while, he only now saw that Charles’ appearance had changed completely. Too many of his layers had vanished, leaving him only in his singlet and an unfamiliar pair of trousers. His skin was pale, his lips blue-tinged, dark smudges under his eyes. His hair dripped water. Most damningly, tremors wracked through his entire body. Then he crumpled before Edwin’s very eyes.

“Charles!” Edwin screamed, and ran. Charles interrupted his shivering to cough again, that painful sound that Edwin remembered only from that night, twenty-five years ago, as he desperately distracted a boy from his failing body. Charles didn’t have a body that could fail anymore. And yet. Edwin knelt and put a hand to Charles’ bare shoulder, hesitating at the lack of familiar layers, but pushed on. Ghosts could not sense temperature, and yet Charles felt ice-cold to the touch, as if his own expectations had made it so. Edwin bit back a curse. He knew ghosts sometimes reverted their appearances to traumatic memories (usually their deaths, but not always; Edwin had spent his few days post-Hell occasionally feeling blood coating his skin and matting down his hair, though he’d managed to fix it before he met Charles, luckily) and this was clearly what was happening to Charles. Because of the creek? The evidence suggested so, although anything could have triggered it. This whole excursion had been a terrible idea, and Edwin was a fool for agreeing to it.

Aysar, who must have been alerted by Edwin’s scream, crouched down beside him to examine Charles with concern. “What happened? Did he fall in?”

“No, and even if he had, it would not have drenched him,” Edwin said shortly. It was hardly Aysar’s fault, but Charles’ slow reactions and glassy stare were all too familiar. It put Edwin on edge. He quickly shrugged out of his coat and tugged it over Charles’ shoulders. By all rights, it shouldn’t make a difference, but it might matter to Charles. “Come, Charles, let us leave.”

Charles swayed where he stood. Edwin quickly clasped his left arm as Aysar did the same with his right, stabilising him between them. He was docile enough until they made to retrace their steps. “No!”

“Charles?” Edwin asked, only holding tighter as Charles fought to escape their grip.

Charles was mouthing something, inaudible under the sound of his chattering teeth. Edwin leaned close enough to feel Charles’ too-fast breaths against his ear, which tingled at the sensation. All he could decipher was, “No… Not back… Have to get them away…” Because Charles had reverted more than his appearance to his death. Because he believed that Aysar lay on the other side of that original path. Because he would not lead his predators to their original prey.

“Where do we go, Charles?” Edwin asked, as gently as he was able, and only steadied Charles as he led them in a wider route back to the school, avoiding the football field entirely.

“What is happening?” Aysar asked desperately, so much older in appearance and yet so much younger in the experience of ghosthood.

“He’s, ah…” Edwin hesitated. Aysar, as victim, had no more caused Charles’ death than Charles himself had – the blame would always and forever lay at the doors of Charles’ murderers – but one’s emotions were never rational in cases such as these. For the first time, Edwin understood why Charles had withheld the details of their meeting from Aysar. Not for shame of meeting Edwin, but to spare Aysar the knowledge of his slow demise; because the two could not be so easily extricated. Edwin had brought a lamp because Charles was hypothermic, they had spoken for hours because it distracted from Charles’ pain, Edwin had read him detective stories because it was the kindest way for Charles to die. Yet Aysar deserved the truth. “Charles is reliving his death, I believe.”

Aysar went rather pale. “His – ? He’s soaked to the bone! What did they do, throw him in the creek?” Silence, except for Charles’ coughing. Aysar’s eyes closed in defeat. “Of course they did.”

From their current position, they were just within sight-line of the football field. Edwin half-expected to see the ghost of Aysar’s younger self still lying there. He wasn’t, of course, because he would not have survived that day, had he remained. The thought of Charles’ murderers in pursuit were more difficult to ignore. Charles still led them doggedly on. Edwin could hardly believe he had managed this journey on his own the first time around, unsteady as he was. No matter; he was not alone now.

“And the coughing?” Aysar asked, after they were treated to another rendition of it. “Is that normal?”

“It was present the last time as well. But it is not a typical symptom of hypothermia, no. Combined with the bruising on Charles’ torso, I would posit internal bleeding as the cause.”

Aysar asked no further questions.

At last they reached their destination, as Edwin had hoped they would: the building where they had met. They supported Charles up each flight of stairs until they reached the attic, and Edwin separated from him only long enough to fetch an old blanket to drape over his shivering form. He settled in next to Charles, encouraging him to lean into Edwin’s side for whatever warmth his imagination could glean. At least Charles was reacting to external stimuli, which meant he wasn’t caught in a loop, as ghosts sometimes were when reliving their deaths. Edwin regretted that he had no lantern to gift him now, but his coat and company would have to be enough. He hadn’t done this, the first time: offered the clothes from his back, the physical touch that Charles considered so precious. He hadn’t thought to, not when he had hardly known the dying boy that would soon move on. Now, after being together longer than their own lifetimes, Edwin thought he would set fire to his soul if it warmed Charles but a moment.

“What happened to him?” Aysar, who had taken a seat across from them, asked. He was watching them, but not in that disapproving way of adults that Edwin was so accustomed to. There was something strangely gentle – even wistful – in his gaze. “The hypothermia, that part I get, but internal bleeding? How?”

“I am not certain, myself,” Edwin admitted. The urge to stroke Charles’ hair in comfort nearly overwhelmed him, until he remembered that only Aysar was watching, whereafter he surrendered completely. Charles’ hair was quite soft. “I only saw the tail-end of the incident. Charles entering this building and the bullies searching for him.” He smiled thinly. “I may have added to their confusion by causing slight hauntings in the surrounding buildings.”

Aysar grinned back, but the bright expression quickly faded into a frown. “I wonder why they were looking for him. Probably didn’t want him to get them into trouble.” He shook his head. “Looks like it didn’t matter in the end anyway, did it? I should’ve – I should’ve gone looking. Should’ve saved him like he saved me. Fuck, if I’d told my parents what happened sooner… But I was… I was scared. I was ashamed.” His eyes filled with tears. “I was scared, and Charles was dying.”

His words were far too familiar. Edwin was no stranger to fear or shame; how powerless they rendered you. Perhaps Aysar’s actions had affected Charles’ survival. But – “He could already see me when I met him, Aysar, which meant he was nearing death. Had your parents attempted to contact authorities, they would likely have faced the same trouble as you, and even if they succeeded, Charles would still have had to be found. The probability of his life being saved by your actions is very low.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.” Aysar wiped a hand over his face, but he wore a slight smile once more. Edwin counted it as a success. “How did you two meet, then? I’m curious.”

Edwin darted a glance at Charles, who was still lost to the world, his eyes glazed and unseeing. He would give it his best attempt, although it would feel strange without Charles’ cheerful interjections and corrections, complaints that Edwin was making it sound too boring or sad, and finally a sigh that signalled Charles taking over. Edwin never told him – even attempted to avoid thinking of it overmuch, because it felt too duplicitous otherwise – but he vastly preferred Charles’ version, and would always tell the story in a dull enough way to ensure he heard it. Now, he could not afford to do so. “As I said, I saw him enter this building, and after distracting the bullies, I followed him and found him sitting in this very attic. He’d found a blanket but was still shivering, and I had an oil lantern that I thought could warm him. I did not know then the extent of his injuries, you see. I had thought to place the lantern there and leave him warm and perhaps questioning his senses. But… he could see me. I knew then that he would die. The bullies – well, they reminded me of my own, when I attended this Godforsaken school, and I did not wish for another victim to die alone. Not like I had.” He shrugged with the shoulder not supporting Charles’ head, a terrible habit he’d picked up from a terrible boy. “I answered his questions, demonstrated the realities of being a ghost, and read aloud to him, until he took his final breath.” Edwin avoided Aysar’s piercing eyes, instead watching the contrast of his pale fingers sweeping through Charles’ dark hair. “I expected him to move on immediately, to the Heaven that surely awaits him, but he did not. Clearly.” He tried to infuse his voice with the usual exasperation, but he only sounded fond and pathetically grateful. Good Lord, he hardly knew where he would be now, without Charles.

“You were keeping him company,” Aysar said, and when Edwin looked at him, it was to find a smile on his tear-stained face. “That’s the most important thing. I’m really glad he had you. And for what it’s worth, I think you two are good for each other.”

Edwin reeled. Good for – of course Charles was good for him, he was Charles. But Edwin? How could he be good for Charles if he could not even prevent something like this? During his death, Edwin had remained with Charles before knowing him, but afterwards, he would not have remained for a quarter-century, nor planned to remain much longer, with any other person. But sometimes he had the sinking feeling that Charles merely felt grateful, that he would have stayed with anyone that played Edwin’s role. However, this place, so sacred to them, was wholly unsuitable for that particular worry. “I – thank you.” And then, because it was too frivolous a question to ask during an active investigation, but Edwin was so bloody curious: “How did you and Charles know each other before the attack? You seem to have been familiar.”

Aysar’s smile was a soft thing. “We were in the same class, so I saw him around. But we became friends after I started teaching him Urdu. He sneaked us out to a couple of concerts, too. I was so shocked the first time! He must’ve thought I was such a goody-two-shoes.” Aysar laughed. “It wasn’t really my type of music, but Charles liked it.” Edwin understood that perfectly. Over the years, they’d acquired several records that were unquestionably Charles’, but Edwin could never truly mind them, not when they brought Charles such happiness. “And Charles was good – really good. At, you know…” Edwin could not say he did know, but he nodded nevertheless. Aysar continued blithely, “Yes, I was a teenager, yes, I had almost no experience, but still! There’s only room for improvement, right? Definitely on my side, I can tell you that.” Aysar looked away, his cheeks darkening. “All that to say, you’re lucky, yeah? Don’t take it for granted. Don’t take him for granted.”

“Never,” Edwin vowed, because he might be somewhat puzzled, but that was one thing he could always promise.

“That’s good,” Aysar said, sitting back. He grinned. “Aces, even.”

“Brills indeed,” Edwin replied dryly, and they both laughed. Goodness, Edwin hadn’t laughed with anyone except Charles in quite a while. For a moment, he imagined that Charles was laughing with them, rather than reliving the worst moments of his life.

Except Charles truly was rousing. Not laughing, but blinking open glassy eyes that slowly sharpened, his skin beginning to return to its usual light and unbruised brown. The sight was as precious as his mirth. Charles’ voice, when it emerged, was hoarse and slurred. “Wha’ happ’n’d?” He shifted, causing Edwin’s coat to slip in to his lap, and he looked slowly down at it. The motion reminded Edwin that his hand was still settled on Charles’ head. He removed it faster than if Charles’ soft curls had transformed to iron.

“You had a flashback of your death,” Aysar explained gently. “We brought you to a, uh, safe spot to recover in.”

Charles gazed around once more, and now seemed to recognise the attic. Most ghosts would become distressed at seeing their site of death, but, if anything, Charles only relaxed, leaning back and into Edwin with a small smile. “Oh. S’alright, then.”

“Charles,” Edwin tried to scold, but he couldn’t contain his answering smile.

Charles only blinked up at him, appearing nonplussed at their unusual positioning. “Hi,” he said, still with that smile. “Happy anniversary.”

Edwin’s heart transcended every ghost rule by clenching painfully in his chest. He had noted the date – they had met exactly twenty-five years ago, after all – but the joy of their first meeting was always eclipsed by the sorrow of Charles’ death. Charles never took well to this time of the year, throwing himself into casework and otherwise escaping the office for lengthy periods. If he brought Edwin gifts on the day itself, they were surely only another attempt at distracting himself. But – Happy anniversary. Could their first meeting possibly mean as much to him as it did to Edwin? He cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Happy anniversary, Charles.”

This time, when Charles shifted upright, Edwin had the presence of mind to help him up. Charles glanced down at himself and the coat he was still clutching, then to Edwin. “Flashbacks steal clothes now?” he joked. It was jarringly casual after how unresponsive he’d been mere minutes ago, but that was Charles for you.

Edwin couldn’t forget so easily. “Here,” he said, taking his coat back and helping Charles into it, tugging at the lapels to ensure it lay neatly. Charles’ eyes were rather wide. “You were cold.” Phantom blood rushed to Edwin’s cheeks at the inane comment. Ghosts could sense neither cold nor warmth, and so Edwin’s coat would have no effect on Charles’ temperature. But Charles appeared too vulnerable, wearing only the clothes he had died in and clearly in no state to be changing that.

“Cheers, mate,” Charles said, too careful. “Sorry. Wouldn’t’ve suggested this outing if I thought that was a possibility, now would I?” His face fell. “My backpack – I must’ve dropped it –”

Edwin had been too concerned by Charles’ state to spare a thought for his bag-of-tricks. “It should still be there, either Aysar or I can go fetch it –”

“You mean this backpack?” Aysar asked, slipping Charles’ bag-of-tricks off his shoulder, where Edwin hadn’t even noticed it. “I saw you drop it when you went all… spacey, and I thought it might be important.”

“It is,” Charles said, with another of those precious smiles. “Thanks, Aysar.”

“Right then,” said Edwin, clasping his hands in front of him. Now that they knew the sensation of holding Charles up, they hungered for more, even though Charles seemed steady enough on his feet now. “It might be best to return to our office and discuss the future of this case, yes?”

Charles’ face drew into a frown, which was the very last thing Edwin wanted. In an undertone, he said, “I fucked this one up for reals, didn’t I? I’m sorry, mate.”

Edwin was shaking his head before Charles had even finished speaking. “You misunderstand me, Charles. We have gathered all the necessary information from this place, and I believe it would do us all well to leave. Furthermore, your wellbeing is more important than a case. Always.”

“Alright,” said Charles, his face lightening. “The same for you, innit?”

“Very well,” said Edwin, because it was easier than arguing.

When they turned around, it was to find Aysar standing next to a mirror already, watching them with quiet amusement. He gestured. “After you, gentlemen.”

Their office was comfortable, theirs in a way that even the St. Hilarion’s attic wasn’t, and Charles felt better just from walking into it. Although Edwin’s coat might play a role in that, too. It wasn’t Edwin, but it was of Edwin, and Charles could feel the tingle of their souls brushing. Then there was the coat itself, brown and elegant and high-quality, an item he’d seen Edwin wear nearly every day for twenty-five years, and it was brushing Charles’ bare arms and shoulders and neck with warmth that was more memory than sensation. There was even the memory of smell, if Charles concentrated very hard (and ignored how creepy he was being) – ancient books, petrichor, a hint of lavender. He wanted to nuzzle into it, which was absolutely not on, because Edwin had given it to him out of friendly concern.

But it didn’t look like that from the outside, did it? Aysar’s amused expression was enough to confirm it. Giving someone your clothes was a classic dating move. Doing it in front of an ex? That implied more than a little possessiveness. Like Edwin wanted people to know Charles was his. Charles’ stomach flipped. It was the truth, after all. Charles was Edwin’s in any way he wanted him. But the reverse wasn’t true. Charles might daydream about getting Edwin to wear his black coat, so different from his usual clothes, but Edwin would never agree if he knew why Charles wanted it.

Charles was settled enough by now to remake his own clothes, including said coat, but he was a selfish git at heart. He’d just hold on to Edwin’s coat for a bit longer. Besides, he didn’t want to interrupt the conversation, now did he?

“I am uncertain as to our next steps for this case,” Edwin was saying, frowning down at his notebook. “We’ve gathered all the necessary information, but there is no mystery to solve. We already know who the killers are.”

“No,” Aysar replied, quiet and intense, “I don’t.” Edwin glanced at Charles’ usual spot on the desk, then corrected to the seat Charles had chosen to perch on instead, and they shared a confused look before they both turned back to Aysar. “Because I didn’t run in those circles, and my parents pulled me out of St. Hilarion’s right after everything happened. I don’t know their names.” He met their eyes seriously. “The chance of getting justice among the living is pretty low, I know that. But there’s nothing wrong with some good old-fashioned ghost justice, is there?”

Charles and Edwin exchanged another look, this one much less confused. “Oh, hell yeah,” Charles said.

“That is brilliant, Aysar,” Edwin said, and his smile was wicked. “How do you plan to find them?”

“Everything’s on the Internet these days,” Aysar said easily. “If Charles tells me their full names, I can Google them and it should tell me what they’re up to.”

Google had been after Charles’ time, but he’d heard enough people talk about it to get an idea of what it was in relation to the Internet. Edwin, however, immediately frowned and noted it down. Ah well, Charles could explain later. But first – “Just one problem, mate, we don’t have a computer or anything here.”

Aysar raised his eyebrows at all their clutter. “Nothing?” Charles shrugged. Edwin shook his head. Aysar sighed. “Well, I know a place.”

That was all he would say, even as Charles plied him with questions. ‘A place’ turned out to be a house in a totally different part of London, small but nicely decorated. There was a PC that Aysar logged into with no issues – interesting fact, that – and after Charles told them the five full names, Aysar and Edwin descend fully into researching mode.

Wasn’t that funny? Charles had long ago forgotten the taste of his mum’s cooking, the smell of his first girlfriend’s perfume, the touch of his teammates after a victory, but his murderer’s names? Those lingered like bloodstains.

He wandered through the house in an attempt to distract himself. He’d done his part, after all. Not like he was contributing to the efforts. At the moment, the house had no living people in it, but the rooms were clearly lived-in, and more recently than Aysar’s death accounted for. Dishes in the sink, clothes in the hamper, the bed half-heartedly made. But Aysar had lived here, going by the photos of him on nearly every wall. He was often shown with his arm around another bloke, the two of them smiling at each other. Charles smiled to see it. Was that Aysar’s boyfriend? He felt a pang of grief, imagining what the poor man must be going through.

“Charles!” Edwin called, and Charles made his way back to see him and Aysar looking very smug in their own ways. “We’ve found what we require. Did you know there is a ‘website’ called ‘Linked In’ where you record your current workplace?”

“Really?” Charles grinned. “Sounds aces, mate. Time for the ol’ stakeout then, innit?”

“I think we have everything,” Aysar said, but Edwin stopped him before he could shut the PC down.

“I’ve had a rather awful thought.” Edwin was wearing that mean little smile that Charles adored. “Could you find Charles’ obituary on your Internet, Aysar?”

Bloody hell, but Charles loved him.

It was a slow couple of days, like stakeouts sadly tended to be. They knew where their targets worked, thanks to LinkedIn, but they still needed to find the exact location, and then wait around until end of day to follow the men home. For now, they only marked down each address and moved on to the next one. There was no way of knowing how much contact happened between the five of them, and Charles didn’t want one of them to tip off the others and ruin all their plans. Still, he wondered. Did they stay in contact? Was an incident like that the kind of thing to break a friendship, or tie them together more closely than ever? Was Charles their last victim, or just their first? Had James figured out that his mates were the kind of white tossers who would ignore your race until you stopped taking their shit? He was still alive, so either he was still playing along, or he’d found himself some better friends.

After five days and five stakeouts, they knew where everyone lived. Now came the fun part.

All of them had done well for themselves. Unsurprising, really, since St. Hilarion’s was so posh. They could get into any uni they qualified for, and their rich parents could buy them into the rest. Would Charles have had a chance like that, if he’d lived?

Not to mention how unfair it was that Charles and Aysar were now both dead, and yet all five of their tormentors still lived. Life was real fucking unfair, sometimes.

They started with Andrew, who Charles was pretty sure had been the one to throw him in the creek. Aysar cast a long look at the spotless white walls and said, “Do we have anything that looks like blood? Red paint, maybe?”

“Do you one better, mate,” Charles said, digging around in his pocket dimension until he found the vial of pig’s blood he kept around for certain rituals.

Aysar eyed it. “I’m not going to ask.” But he still took it, then used his fingers to paint a visually striking message, with some bloody splatters for good measure. REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID.

Edwin, on the other hand, went for very specific psychological horror. Everywhere he could find a spot, he’d put a printout of Charles’ obituary. In drawers, bathrooms, under technology, even hidden in the pages of books. Andrew would be finding them for months, if not years. For all that the thought filled him with sick glee, Charles couldn’t bear looking at his obituary too closely. He didn’t want to know what they wrote about him. Stupid enough to die of a prank, maybe. Beloved son – what a laugh. Not to mention the photo, an old black-and-white thing that left his nose too faded and the sides of his face too dark, his expression way too serious. Was that really what he looked like?

Instead, he wandered around the house, generally making a nuisance of himself. The haunting classics of throwing around chairs and flickering lights felt rude when the rest of Andrew’s family had done nothing wrong, but he hid a few important-looking things, moved all the furniture five centimetres to the left, and fiddled with some of the door and window hinges for maximum creaking.

When the three of them were satisfied, they moved on to the next, and the next, and the next. It was easy enough to settle into the pattern of it. Maybe Charles should be doing worse to his literal murderers, but part of him remembered his life and all the shit that he’d let slide. He could’ve become one of them so, so easily. Maybe that was why he still carried their names: to tell himself, Don’t ever let this be you. It was difficult to dredge up the appropriate rage in the face of that.

Besides, he had Aysar and Edwin for that, with Aysar writing increasingly disturbing shit in the animal blood Charles kept him stocked in, and Edwin finding more and more inventive places for Charles’ obituary, like tucked under Finn’s pillow or embedded into Henry’s wall with a kitchen knife.

And then they reached the fifth and final house: Tucker. Just thinking about him had Charles’ rage simmering. Tucker had been trouble from the start, picking on the younger kids and making off-colour jokes. He’d been the one to escalate the fight just when Charles was breaking it up. Come to think of it, he’d probably been the one making jokes about Aysar in the first place. None of the others had clean hands, but Tucker had played a much larger role. He’d been the one to suggest tossing Charles into the water. Charles didn’t know who’d thrown the first stone, but he would hardly be surprised if Tucker suggested that one, too.

So while Aysar and Edwin headed for their – by now familiar – tasks, Charles instead made his way to Tucker’s room. At least he lived alone, so there was no one else Charles could accidentally traumatise. He started out easy, flicking the light on and off a few times. The lump in the bed groaned and shifted. “Yeah, wanker, time to wake up,” Charles said, hearing his voice go low and vicious. He did nothing to stop it. Tucker couldn’t hear him.

But someone else could. “Charles?” Edwin asked from behind him.

Just as Charles was about to turn to answer him, Tucker finally got up, scrubbing at his face and glaring at the ceiling. Without meaning to, Charles stumbled back and into Edwin. Sure, Tucker was recognisable from the boy Charles’d known, but way taller and bulkier. Like St. Hilarion’s creek, Charles couldn’t look at him without remembering every horrible moment – Aysar’s blood-stained face to a desperate sprint to freezing water to stones and jeers thrown with equal malice. But it was more than that: the way Tucker towered over him, his beard and pale eyes, about the same age Charles’ dad had been the last time Charles saw him in person. The fear of both of them combined and mingled into something monstrous.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Edwin’s face turn from him to Tucker, fine lines forming between his furrowed brows. “Did you know,” he said, needlessly quiet, “that during the so-called ‘witching hour’, the living are occasionally able to catch glimpses of us? Especially in the dark.” He patted Charles’ shoulder, an unusually forward gesture for him, and strutted to the one wall, his finger poised over the light switch. An offer. “Oh, and a change in appearance may be in order, don’t you think, Charles? Though without reliving your death this time, perhaps.”

Charles loved him so goddamn much.

He concentrated. Tucker hadn’t witnessed his true death, so Charles focused on his memory of the creek instead. His hair became a heavy mass plastered to his forehead. His jacket and coat dragged down with the weight of water. When he looked at his hands, the skin there was horribly blue. None of the stones had actually struck him in the face, but that was more luck than anything. Charles let the skin of his cheek form a lurid bruise, then set it bleeding freely for good measure. Nothing wrong with some artistic licence, right? He took a deep breath. “Now.”

The room plunged into darkness. Tucker cursed. He seemed shocked by the sudden darkness more than reacting to Charles’ presence. Charles could change that. What did the classic haunting ghosts usually do? Intention. With every bit of willpower he had – and there was plenty – Charles wanted Tucker to see him, to see what he’d done, to remember. He wanted justice.

He’d closed his eyes without noticing. When he opened them, the room was no longer fully dark, but glowing with spectral energy. Charles glanced at Edwin first, instinctively, and saw the pale blue reflect in his eyes, which were trained on him completely. Remembering what they were here for, he turned back to Tucker. Now his face was drawn with horror. With a click, the light switched back on. Tucker blinked around, disorientated. The light switched off. Charles hadn’t moved, watching with satisfaction as Tucker’s eyes returned to him and widened. He shook his head desperately, backing away. “No. No!”

“Look what you did,” Charles snarled, and imagined a whisper of it passing into the living world.

Tucker’s eyes were wide enough to show the whites all around. Edwin chose that moment to switch on the light, causing Tucker to hiss and slam his eyes shut. Charles thought quickly, dropping his coat and jacket and leaving himself in the undershirt he’d died in. It had the bonus of baring his arms and all the actual bruises on them. He stepped forward.

The light switched off.

“You died!” Tucker said. Something in his eyes was wild, now. “You’re dead!” At the last word, he snapped, swinging at Charles with desperate force. Only years of practice kept Charles from flinching. Nothing happened, of course, just the uncomfortable sensation of living and ghost atoms mingling for the second it took Tucker to stumble through him. It was worse for the living, though. Charles didn’t mind it one bit.

But like this, Tucker was way too close to Edwin for Charles’ comfort. Charles took his usual spot between Edwin and danger. “Yeah, I am,” he said, just in case it was still in doubt.

Tucker had at least given up on attacking them, sinking to the floor with his head lowered and his palms together. Charles suppressed a snort. What, was he praying now?

Edwin leaned around Charles to blink down at Tucker. Charles thought for a split second that he might suggest leaving him to his prayers. But they had both been chewed up and spat out by the same Catholic school, hadn’t they? Edwin delicately separated the clasp of Tucker’s hands with a finger, and slipped Charles’ obituary into the resulting space.

A tremor went through Tucker at the first touch, and he abandoned his position entirely when the paper appeared between his hands. Edwin switched the light on, very helpfully. Tucker turned the paper over like it was a ticking bomb. His eyes flicked over the picture and the accompanying paragraphs, then to where Charles was still standing, invisible in the light. The last blood drained from Tucker’s face. “God, forgive me.”

“Because God is famously merciful to child-killers,” Edwin remarked dryly.

Charles let out a snort of laughter, which ended up sounding more than a little hysterical. He turned away from Tucker, savouring the last image of him looking whiter than several actual ghosts, and focused on the much more pleasant sight of Edwin. “C’mon, we’re done here.” Edwin hummed agreeably, but flicked the light off – startling a scream from Tucker – and then on again, leaving Tucker looking at the face he’d murdered. Charles smiled at him. “That was just overkill.”

“I shall be the judge of that,” Edwin sniffed, tugging his coat straight. No – taking it off. Charles couldn’t deny that he’d been thinking about that coat, but he’d promised himself to refuse if Edwin offered it again. He was fine to recreate his usual outfit; anything more would just be taking advantage. But Edwin didn’t offer. He swept his coat up and over Charles’ shoulders, like it was just a fact of the universe that Charles had to wear it.

“You don’t have to –” Charles started, wanting to give Edwin the out, even as he melted into the comfort of it.

“Hush,” Edwin said affectionately. He led them to the living room, where Aysar was still enthusiastically painting, HIS BLOOD IS ON YOUR HANDS. He’d even added some bloody handprints, dragged down the wall like someone had painted the whole thing in their own blood. It was pretty metal.

“That’s aces, mate,” Charles said, stepping back to take in the whole thing. “Very thematically appropriate.”

“Indeed quite fitting,” Edwin said, nodding.

Aysar finished the last stroke before turning to them with a grin. “Thanks!” He took in their outfits, and his smile only went wider. “What’ve you been up to, then?”

Fuck. Charles felt distinctly warm, and it wasn’t just the coat. He knew what this would look like, but he’d gone ahead with it anyway. Classic Charles.

Much more calmly, Edwin said, “Spiritually torturing a man, if you must know.” Charles and Aysar burst into helpless laughter, and Edwin’s especially pleased smile appeared. He and Aysar really were getting along, if Edwin was cracking jokes this quickly. Charles was too happy about it to question when that happened.

“Speaking of, do you still want to do your thing, Edwin?” he asked. Edwin had found him pretty quickly, after all.

But Edwin shook his head. “I’ve used up all the pages.” His smile was smaller and sharper. Charles’ breath caught a little at the sight of it.

He cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. “Then, gentlemen, I believe we are done,” he said, in his best Edwin impression. It made Edwin scoff and Aysar laugh, which meant it was basically perfect. They traipsed out of the house, unwilling to use any of Tucker’s mirrors for travelling. When they were a good distance away, Charles gave the house a one-fingered salute that relied heavily on his middle finger. Aysar laughed again, looking lighter than Charles had seen him in far too long, and followed suit. “C’mon, Edwin!” Charles started, only to be confronted with the sight of Edwin carefully copying him.

A cute flush crept over Edwin’s face when he met Charles’ gaze. “I assume the meaning is somewhat crass?”

“Yeah, it’s basically a gesture for fuck you,” Charles explained, watching him with interest.

“Hmm,” said Edwin, and in an elegant twist, flicked both middle fingers up at the lit window of Tucker’s bedroom window.

Aysar cheered. Charles shouted with laughter. He grabbed his two best friends in the world and tugged them into his arms, holding on as they kept furiously flipping the house off. If any ghost, psychic, feline, or being otherwise supernatural could see them now, they’d look absolutely mental. Charles found he didn’t mind it in the slightest.

A week later found them returning to the house Aysar had initially shown them, celebrating as best ghosts could. For them, it took the form of recalling the highlights of their hauntings, and reading the article, published a few days after their attempts, which detailed how two high-society men had confessed being culpable in the death of a schoolmate in 1989, an incident that was clearly not as accidental as it had originally been classified.

“Depending on the nature of their confessions, they may be charged with either murder or manslaughter by gross negligence,” Edwin explained, drawing on his limited knowledge of living justice. “Their pursuit of you leans more in the direction of murder, Charles, but they may be careful as to what they confess. Either will lead to a significant prison sentence.” He smiled. “It seems you received your justice doubly, Aysar.”

“If they don’t buy their way out,” Charles quipped, but he appeared lighter of spirit than Edwin had seen him in far too long. He was tempted to check that Charles’ feet were still touching the ground. None of them had expected the living to do anything, after all. It was comforting to see that the law sometimes performed its function.

“The courts don’t look too kindly on the deaths of minors,” said Aysar. “And they’ll be implicating the other three with their confessions. If anyone tries to lie, they’ll be caught out quickly enough. Their best bet is to be honest.” He cracked his knuckles; a gesture that was utterly meaningless for ghosts except as an ingrained habit. “Now, they probably wouldn’t have reported their own little incidents to the police, but it’s still safer to not have them all linked to one computer right before it happened. I’ll just delete the search history, and then we should be done.”

Edwin nodded, pretending any of the words made sense in this context. He was saved from having to think of a reply by the sounds of someone entering the house. The three of them stared at each other with wide eyes.

As was typical, Charles acted first. “I’ll distract whoever it is, you two get rid of the evidence!”

Aysar huffed out a breath and called, “It’s just my husband!” But Charles was already gone. “Distract him. Because this is going to take so long.” With several efficient movements, the screen cleared, then went dark, as they had originally found it. Nothing else appeared out of place.

Edwin could not appreciate it, because Edwin’s brain was utterly blank. “Husband?”

“Yeah, this was our place,” Aysar said, waving his hand as if he wasn’t implying something wholly impossible. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before, but I know your goal is to get your clients moving on, but I can’t, alright? I have to wait for him.”

Phantom blood rushed in Edwin’s ears. If he were able, he would faint. “Husband?”

Aysar’s face fell. “Oh, I guess you don’t keep track of those types of living laws? They legalised same-sex marriage earlier this year. Sekani and I got married as soon as possible, but we were basically married even before that.” He set a gentle hand on Edwin’s shoulder. Edwin was too in turmoil to retreat from the unfamiliar touch. No, more than that – he did not wish to. Edwin had never trusted an adult in his life, but he trusted Aysar. “Believe me, I know it’s terrifying after growing up in a less accepting time, but we have nothing to be ashamed of. We deserve the right to marry as much as anyone, don’t we?” In the way of so many others before him, Aysar had seen Edwin’s differences before he, himself, knew them. But Aysar did not wish to hurt or shame him. The opposite: he recognised Edwin, because – impossibly – he was like him.

They were interrupted once more as a stranger entered the room. Aysar turned to him in the manner of a flower to sunlight, helpless to their natures. The man – Sekani, Aysar’s husband – did nothing to disprove the analogy. He was an attractive man, his skin a brown several shades darker than Aysar’s, his hair falling down his back in several thin plaits that were black at the roots and faded to gold at the tips. No resemblance to Charles, in other words, and yet some element of his animated face and the line of his bright smile was so familiar and dear that Edwin’s very soul ached with it.

And there was Charles, trailing Sekani into the room. “This your husband then, Aysar? He’s right fit, innit?”

“Thank you,” Aysar said, his mouth twitching into a smile. His eyes did not waver from Sekani. “I did see him first, you know.”

“Awww,” said Charles, pretending to pout.

Edwin watched Sekani move around the room, humming slightly. He was not acting in the way Edwin would expect of someone who had recently lost his – his husband. Sekani walked towards them, causing them all to rapidly jump out of the way, and he straightened the skewed desk chair with a chuckle. “Aysar, darling, are you –”

Oh.

Sekani realised his mistake rather quickly, sitting heavily in the chair he’d only just fixed. Devastation and desolation spilled openly over his face, equal only to the worst of Edwin’s memories of Hell. It was painful to witness, yet more painful to ignore. Sekani’s hands covered that despairing face; his shoulders wracked with sobs. Aysar went to him immediately, placing a comforting but incorporeal arm around Sekani, making gentle shushing sounds that went unheard.

Edwin thought that, should he lose Charles, he would react in the same way. Their office carried as many memories of them as this house did of Aysar and Sekani. Edwin was too used to calling for Charles and getting an immediate reply, to handing him items and receiving them back, to having him stand between Edwin and their latest foe. What if, one day, that foe proved too much for Charles? What if Edwin returned to their office and habitually spoke as if Charles were still there, only to face the despair of losing him all over again? Except that no ghostly form of Charles would be comforting him through it.

Not one moment of Hell could compare.

He turned to Charles, but found himself arrested by the sight of Charles already looking back, his fine brows drawn in concern. “Let’s leave them to it, yeah?” His voice was quiet, despite Sekani’s inability to hear them. Edwin nodded. On their way out, Charles made a detour to Aysar, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Aysar. But come visit us, alright? Don’t be a stranger.”

Aysar only nodded, all his attention fixed completely on Sekani. Edwin wanted to tell him the dangers of staying attached to the living, if only to spare him the pain, but Charles took his hand and drew him away, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes, he knew Edwin far too well.

The return to their office was easy. Forgetting the case was a sight more difficult. Part of it was, of course, having to remember every detail for their case file. Charles suggested the rather too lengthy title of the Case of Haunting Murderers Until They Confess After Twenty-Five Years. Edwin preferred the (much simpler) Case of Justice.

“Just ‘Justice’?” Charles asked, one eyebrow raised. “We have a bunch of cases that involve justice, how’s that a good name?”

“Only one involving justice for a co-founder of the Dead Boy Detective Agency, Charles, do keep up,” Edwin sniped back.

“And what if we have a case involving justice for the other co-founder?” Charles’ second eyebrow joined the first.

The very same demon that had collected Edwin’s soul had destroyed all of his murderers, almost an entire century ago. “I’ve had more than enough justice, thank you,” he replied, and Charles laughed like he’d made a joke.

Eventually, they compromised and called it the Case of the Justice Hauntings, the card slipped in with countless others in their Closed Cases section. That was where the trouble came in. It was usually the point, after closing a case, when Edwin would relax with a book and Charles with anything but. Yet Edwin found his eyes… lingering.

“Charles,” he said, hesitantly. It was impossible, yet too much evidence supported it. “Were you and Aysar…”

“…dating?” Charles finished. He did not appear to take offence, at least. “Yeah, sort of, as much as we could back then. We snogged some, if that counts?” He smiled as if it were the easiest thing in the world. If that counts. As though kissing a boy was of no great import. “Sorry I didn’t tell you when we met, mate. Didn’t know how you’d take it, did I?”

The implication that he now knew how Edwin would react was staggering, since Edwin was not too certain about it himself. He was unaware of pressing his knuckles together until Charles gave them an affectionate tap. Edwin separated them hastily. “I… am not sure either. It was not something allowed when I was alive.”

“That’s a load of tosh,” Charles said, still with that easy grin. “It wasn’t allowed when I was alive, either, but that didn’t mean people weren’t doing it. It shouldn’t matter who people love except to them and their loved ones, right?” He shrugged. “Easy enough to say after I figured it out, though. Probably wouldn’t have acknowledged it without Aysar, would I?”

“Yes, I.” Edwin stared at his hands. “I could say very much the same thing.”

Charles blinked. “Hopefully he didn’t go about it the same way.” Finally, his smile dropped. Edwin immediately missed it. “Wait, mate, you’re serious? I thought you were… well, not into the whole dating thing.”

After nearly a century of ignoring any romantic inclinations he felt, perhaps that statement should’ve pleased Edwin. It did not. Far too many people had known Edwin’s deepest, darkest secret after barely interacting with him, and yet his companion of two decades, the only one he would willingly divulge his secrets to, had no idea. “What created that impression?”

“You – you never looked like you fancied anyone,” Charles said, stuttering for the first time that Edwin could recall. Edwin opened his mouth, but Charles barrelled on: “And I asked you directly, didn’t I?”

Edwin had no recollection of that, either. “When?”

“Somewhere in the ‘90s,” Charles said, waving his hand vaguely. “I asked you about… courtship, or something, I don’t know, I was trying to translate it to Edwardian speak. The point is, you said you ‘have no desire’ for it.”

Ah, yes. Edwin might have been a tad harsh in that conversation – Charles made no secret of his own love life, so when he had asked something in that direction, Edwin’s imagination had filled with nightmarish scenarios of being forcefully paired with any vaguely Edwardian ghostly maiden they came across. A pantomime of the very obligation that he thought death had freed him from.

At his silence, Charles continued, near desperate now: “There are terms for that now, you know? Aromantic, asexual. Loads more than that, too.”

“Oh?” Edwin reached for his notebook. “What are their definitions?”

“Aromantic’s feeling little or no romantic attraction for anyone, asexual’s the same but with sexual attraction,” Charles explained. Edwin blinked down at his notes. One half of his brain was connecting these terms to the opinion on courtship he gave Charles, and drawing the conclusion that Charles had no idea about his true nature because he deigned to listen to Edwin rather than assuming he knew better. The other half was caught on the sound of sexual attraction in Charles’ low voice. “Then there’s demiromantic and demisexual, which – Wait a tick, this is supposed to be about you.” Charles folded his arms and frowned, as if Edwin had deceived him. “What did you mean about courtship, then?”

Edwin slowly put his notebook away, grieving what little protection it had provided him. “Firstly, I don’t believe courtship is an accurate synonym for dating, as I understand it. Courtship had a very specific set of rules, was expected to conclude with marriage, and always occurred between a man and a woman.” He cleared his throat. “The last was my primary issue with it.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Because it was with a woman?”

It required every shred of courage that had survived Hell, but Edwin held his gaze. “Yes.”

“And if it’d been with a man?”

The mere thought was sacrilegious. “I would have… fewer issues,” Edwin admitted. Certainly Charles’ eyes had not always appeared so lovely and brown in the warm lighting of their office? It had never before been such an ordeal to meet them. “Although there are several other, deeply-ingrained problems in the process,” he hastened to add, in case Charles thought to forcefully pair him with any vaguely Edwardian ghostly man.

Charles’ laughter was warm. “I’m sure there are, mate.” He smiled mischievously. “Sounds like you want to experiment, innit?”

“Experiment?” Edwin enjoyed experiments both for solving cases and independent of them, but it hardly made sense in the current context.

“You know, going out with people and seeing if you enjoy it, that sort of thing. Gathering data about whether you’re into people of a specific gender, basically.”

Edwin snapped his fingers. “Yes! Yes, exactly. Charles, that is brilliant,” he said with feeling. Treating his own attractions as a scientific hypothesis? Nothing sounded more sensible. There was only one problem – “I am not good with new people, though.” But a solution quickly presented itself. “Charles, would you – ?”

Charles set his hands on Edwin’s shoulders. “Edwin, you’re my best mate and I would do anything for you.” Without quite meaning to, Edwin closed his eyes at the sensation of Charles’ thumbs stroking over his clavicle, faint as it was with four layers of fabric separating them. “But don’t ask that of me.”

Edwin’s eyes snapped open. Ah, he hadn’t even thought of what an imposition it was, simply assuming that Charles would go along with it as always. Charles may be attracted to men, but in no way did it follow that he was attracted to Edwin. He’d made a fool of himself in front of his very best friend. “I understand,” he said stiffly.

But Charles knew him too well by far. “Not looking like that, you don’t! At least, I hope not.” He was smiling, but above it, his lovely brown eyes were sad. “What I meant is, experimenting is supposed to be easy and fun and low-pressure, so it doesn’t hurt if it turns out you don’t want them. I can’t be that.” Edwin opened his mouth to refute it, because Charles had described several of his past relationships as ‘easy’ or ‘fun’. But Charles shook his head, eyes only sadder, and Edwin acquiesced. “Not with you. It’d be too much to put on you. I'd be too much.”

Oh.

Charles was – Charles had –

Oh.

Edwin swallowed back the urge to ask a desperate, selfish, Are you sure? Because Charles having feelings for him (feelings deeper than his past relationships, even) was, well… quite simply impossible. Such things did not happen, and they certainly did not happen to Edwin Payne. This was yet another layer of Hell, a particularly creative one, which had devised the illusion of a perfect boy and a perfect friendship. Of course the next step would be a perfect romance.

But Charles wasn’t perfect, and all the better for it. Hell could never have created him. He was too good for them to fathom.

Perhaps such things did not happen to Edwin Payne, but his very best friend was standing in front of him with his heart in his hands, begging Edwin not to crush it.

Edwin would rather crush his own.

He brought up his hands to clasp Charles’ wrists, and Charles startled, as if expecting Edwin to remove him bodily. Edwin only kept their hands in place. “Charles, thank you for telling me. I… I had no idea. I will not ask that of you, I promise.” He swallowed, suddenly grateful that his grip on Charles’ wrists prevented the urge to cup Charles’ cheek. “You are my best friend, and I would likewise do anything for you. The last thing I wish is to hurt you. You are far too important to me.”

Charles smiled at him with heart-breaking sincerity. It was everything Edwin could ask for.

It was slow-going at first, of course. Edwin possessed none of Charles’ easy charm, nor his way of drawing people to him like moths to a flame. Yet, when he opened himself to the possibility, Edwin found that he was not wholly without suitors.

It transpired that one such suitor took the form of a professional ghost, similar to them. The man was an alchemist that they had consulted when what the case required was beyond Edwin’s amateur knowledge of the subject. Jasper – as he’d introduced himself with a smile and a firm handshake – was rather intriguing, explaining his process to Edwin as he went, and lighting up when Edwin asked some well-placed questions. In fact, the conversation progressed well enough that it was a surprise when Jasper returned to his equipment at a critical point and Charles drew him away entirely.

“Alright then, mate?” Charles asked, his bracing smile at odds with the words.

“Perfectly well, Charles, why would I not be?” Edwin replied, though it was hardly the truth. He could scarcely look at Charles without hearing, once more, Not with you, and, I'd be too much. It should not change anything, and yet… Edwin found himself wanting to lay a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder and reassure him, but Charles had ever been the tactile one between them. He at least kept to that habit after his admission. Edwin could only lean into it and pray that he understood.

“Brills,” Charles murmured, eyes lowering. “Look, I don’t want to make things weird, but just in case – you know Jasper likes you, right?”

Edwin scoffed. “If anything, he just enjoys alchemy.” Yet he felt some measure of warmth at the thought. It was pleasant to be able to befriend new people, even if he lacked Charles’ ease.

“Nah, he likes you, innit?” Charles laughed a little.

Edwin blinked. Certain facts took on new meaning: Jasper’s permanent smile; his unnecessary closeness when indicating the components of his latest experiment; his offer to loan Edwin any of his alchemy books (which Edwin had gladly accepted). Edwin supposed the way Jasper’s gaze had swept over him during introductions could also be re-interpreted in view of this. Even without such evidence, he’d learnt to trust Charles’ deductions on emotional matters. He was rarely wrong. “Ah. I did not intend –”

“Do you not like him?”

Did he? Professionally and personally, yes; Jasper was certainly knowledgeable, and Edwin enjoyed conversing with him. Romantically? Edwin hadn’t the faintest idea.

At his hesitation, Charles’ expression grew gentle. “Hey, hey, I just thought you might like to spend time with him… alone? Just say the word and I’ll take off, yeah?”

Edwin had no wish for Charles to take off. Even with the rare persons that initially got on with Edwin, conversations had a way of drying up. It was reassuring to have Charles, then. Yet for the purposes of Edwin’s, ah, experiments, it was ideal to spend time alone with a suitor. He had no wish to inflict the experience on Charles, who was already forced to explain this to Edwin despite his own feelings, either. “I suppose that would be best, yes.”

Charles gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “’Course. Go get him, tiger!”

“I am not a feline,” Edwin pointed out. Charles laughed, and all was right in the world.

When they returned, Jasper’s eyes darted rapidly between them. “Business calls?” he guessed, somewhat lightly.

“Only for some of us,” Charles said with a wink. He clapped Edwin on the back in such a way that Edwin was encouraged forward and closer to Jasper. “Tell you what, I’ll go sort it out while Edwin finishes his chat with you, yeah?”

“Yes, that would be – that would be no problem, of course,” Jasper said, but he was gazing at Edwin with a smaller and sweeter smile. He was rather handsome.

Charles left with a cheery wave. Edwin turned back to Jasper and said, “Please, continue.”

It was only after every time-sensitive task was completed that Jasper struck up casual conversation once more. “So, you and Charles –” he began, clearly attempting subtlety.

“We are business partners,” Edwin filled in, but it sounded rather cold when that was the least of what Charles meant to him. He added, “In addition to being best friends.”

“Oh!” Jasper’s smile was bright. “Good. Well – not good, but I didn’t wish to cause offence, I…” He took a deep, unnecessary breath. “I should like to ask you on a date, if you are amenable to it.”

In supernatural terms, Jasper was closer in age to Edwin than Charles. The word date was charmingly distinct from his general lexicon. Still, Edwin hesitated.

Jasper’s smile faded. “If I misread you…”

“It is not that,” Edwin said immediately, then amended, “or not fully, at least. I find myself rather uncertain about such matters, what with public opinion during my lifetime.”

“I do understand that, believe me.” Jasper rested his hand on Edwin’s. Edwin had never been overly fond of physical contact except in specific cases, but between his leather gloves and Jasper’s laboratory gear, all he could sense was a comforting press. Both that and the assurance helped. Such matters had hardly been better in Charles’ time, but at least they had been admitted to. Edwin would rather be insulted than kept ignorant.

Edwin glanced once more at their gloved hands, the white of Jasper’s laboratory coat stark against Edwin’s brown leather, but stained with a variety of chemicals that plainly showed his love for his craft. “Then I would indeed be amenable to a… date, if we could schedule it after our current case is closed?”

“Of course,” said Jasper, his smile boyish and charming and lighting up his face. “As soon as your case is finished, then?”

“Of course,” Edwin said, and found himself smiling slightly.

So that was what they did: with Jasper’s help, the case was closed in a matter of days, and then Edwin went on his first-ever date. It was a walk through the streets of London, which passed as a casual outing for ghosts, and despite what Charles had said, it wasn’t easy or low-pressure. Edwin found himself weighing up every word he said, feeling his phantom pulse pick up at the thought of saying the wrong thing or acting the wrong way. Yet it was an enjoyable experience overall, and when Jasper asked whether he could take Edwin on another date, it was no hardship to agree.

Their pace was slow, what with scheduling dates to suit both their busy careers, but Edwin didn’t mind. It always took him some time to get used to new people in his life – excluding Charles, who’d settled in frighteningly quickly, of course – and the standard getting-to-know-each-other questions from his romantic research became a tad awkward when the most significant parts of Edwin’s existence were his casework and Hell. The latter seemed a somewhat inappropriate topic for their fledgeling relationship. As Edwin feared, their conversation became somewhat stilted in the face of it, without another to pick up the slack. However, Jasper adapted quickly, shifting the locations of their dates to museums and libraries, where they could speak of their own knowledge and interests instead. Those topics did not dry up quite so quickly. He enjoyed comparing his opinions to Jasper’s, as well as the verbal sparring when they, perhaps inevitably, disagreed.

At the end of each date, Jasper gifted him some item or trinket – a new piece of equipment for Edwin’s kit, a book Jasper thought he would enjoy, even a smooth, mottled red stone that he’d presented with a charming blush.

Edwin had glanced from that blush to the stone’s distinctive appearance, and made a deduction. “A piece of jasper, then?”

Jasper’s shy smile had been answer enough.

Afterwards, in the office, Edwin examined the stone more closely, the glossy surface almost cool under his fingertips. The metaphor of it was all too clear. A piece of jasper. A piece of Jasper. It was frightening to be entrusted with such a responsibility, yet a touch exciting at the same time.

“What’s this, then?” Charles asked. He’d entered so quietly that even Edwin’s fine hearing, trained as it was in Hell, hadn’t registered it. Edwin fought down a guilty start.

“A gift. A piece of –”

“Jasper, innit?” Charles interrupted. “I remember that geology museum you took me to, mate.” He huffed a laugh. “That’s a good one.”

Edwin smiled up at him. “Quite.”

Silence formed between them, viscous and strange. They hardly spent their every interaction speaking, but the silence had never before been uncomfortable. Was this the effect of an outsider on their friendship? Despite still spending most of his time with Charles, between their cases and off-time when Jasper was busy, Edwin abruptly found himself missing Charles. Or perhaps he missed the ease of their deaths before all of this, when he did not have to feel so much. But that was unfair. He was only too grateful to receive this chance, which had been so impossible in his own lifetime.

Perhaps the silence felt less oppressive to Charles, because he said, easily enough, “Still going well, then, you and Jasper?”

Did he want information that could hurt him? “Why must you know?” Edwin’s tone was all wrong, too harsh by far. The way he spoke to troublesome witnesses, to idiotic foes – not to Charles. Never to Charles.

Hurt flashed clearly over Charles’ face, before it vanished behind a smile that did not reach his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me. I know you’re private, yeah?”

But Edwin wasn’t, not with Charles. He sighed. “I apologise, Charles. I merely meant – I don’t understand why you would want to know. Would it not… would it not hurt?” It was frightfully presumptuous, but Edwin wouldn’t do his friend the indignity of ignoring his true feelings.

“You’re my best mate, first,” Charles said with a small shrug, but his smile reached his eyes at last. “Always will be. I want to you to be happy, no matter what, alright?”

Edwin dipped his head. “That is a fair point.” He supposed that were their roles reversed, he would rather know, as well.

So he told Charles of all of it (in the way all his research suggested people spoke of romance to their best friend): the attractions and discomfort and uncertainty. The electromagnetic forces between Jasper and him, pushing closer yet pulling away. It was freeing to speak of the lingering shame he felt for himself, for his nature.

“There is nothing wrong with you, yeah?” Charles said fiercely. “Everyone who’s said that – fuck ‘em. You’re perfect, Edwin, alright?”

Edwin was helpless to do anything but smile at him, the words strong enough that he nearly believed them.

At the end of his retelling, Charles asked, “D’you want to kiss him?” There was some strangeness in his countenance, his voice. Edwin was uncertain which answer he wished to hear.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, glancing at his piece of jasper once more. “Things are developing rather quickly. I’m afraid kissing would only encourage it.”

Charles’ eyebrows raised. “You’ve gone on five dates over several weeks without kissing? That’s the opposite of quick, mate.”

Edwin couldn’t explain his understanding of the latest gift, not without revealing how impossible it was for him to return the gesture. He hardly lacked pieces of his soul, but each was too fractured to trust in another’s hands. There weren’t any aptly-named gemstones for him to substitute, either. The related literature spoke of giving oneself wholly to one’s lover, but Edwin couldn’t. Hell had a claim on far too much of him, after all, and the rest had been built on their agency and their office and Charles, belonging to them as much as to Edwin himself. What was there left to give?

“Kissing isn’t like that, anyway,” Charles was saying. “You can try it out and see if you like it, yeah? And if it’s going too fast, tell him. If he’s a decent bloke, he’ll back off. If not, just tell me, and –” he mimed a swing of his cricket bat, serious for a moment, and then they were both laughing. Edwin’s phantom heart raced at the thought of Charles using his cricket bat to defend him. It was hardly new, but it had always been against physical rather than emotional threats.

Still, poor Jasper did not deserve this slander. “That should be quite unnecessary, but thank you, Charles.”

“Anytime, mate,” Charles said. “You know that.”

As if Jasper had been listening in on them that day, he broached the topic on the very next date. It took the form of a shy question: “Are you interested in kissing?”

Edwin froze. Stay very very still – maybe it won’t hear you – maybe it won’t catch you – No. This wasn’t Hell, nor the reason he’d been there. Because otherwise it would mean that Jasper was meant for Hell, and so were Aysar and Sekani and Charles. It was simply not possible. Edwin forced the tremor from his voice. “I haven’t enough experience to say.”

“Oh, I haven’t either, not really,” Jasper stuttered, flushing. “But I would be interested in an attempt, if you are…?”

Kissing isn’t like that, Charles had said, and, You can try it out and see if you like it. Edwin trusted him. “Very well, I suppose.”

There was an awkward moment where they simply stared at each other, before Jasper chuckled and stepped closer to him. Here? Edwin glanced around at the crowded museum, but if anyone could see them, they didn’t let on. He supposed it was as good a place as any. Jasper settled his hands on Edwin’s shoulders quite properly, the way Charles had shown him people did during informal modern dancing. Edwin obligingly held onto Jasper’s waist. It was unexpectedly intimate. Jasper truly was handsome, his long, dark hair tied back in a neat queue, his brown eyes holding the sunlight captive, his lips full and red and curling as Edwin continued to watch them.

Jasper’s hands slipped up to cradle Edwin’s face, holding him in place as he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut. Edwin followed suit. Despite everything, it was a surprise to feel Jasper’s mouth on his, the simultaneous twitch of his fingers at Edwin’s jaw. It was almost too much.

Before Edwin could even think of kissing back, Jasper pulled away, his eyes wide and anxious. “Was that – was that satisfactory?”

“Yes. Quite splendid, Jasper,” Edwin said, certain he must be an unflattering shade of red. “Could we perhaps repeat it?”

Jasper kissed him again in a rather more drawn-out affair, and oh, Edwin enjoyed this. It gave him ample time to study the techniques of kissing and then apply them, to internally note what each of them enjoyed, to release his clasped hands and explore more of his partner. The shirt collar was finely-woven and stiff under his fingertips. The silky hair was drawn back tightly enough to seem straight. Edwin ghosted fingers over a slightly prickly jaw to the space under the left ear, and found – nothing.

He stepped back, stumbling somewhat with sudden vertigo, and deft fingers caught his elbows and steadied him once more. The customary thank you, Charles froze on his lips as he stared into too-light brown eyes, unlined with kohl. Because this was Jasper, who did not possess soft red polos or short curls or shaved cheeks. Jasper, whose ears were not pierced, especially not with a star-shaped earring that seemed destined to get in the way and yet always caught Edwin’s eyes when it winked in the sunlight.

Jasper, who was not his best friend.

Edwin had imagined Charles in Jasper’s place, kissing him. Why? Because Charles had feelings for him? Was this some monstrous way to take advantage of those feelings, forcing Charles into something that he might want, for all the wrong reasons? But Edwin had no reason to. He had no wish to hurt Charles. He certainly did not want to hurt him by kissing him, not when he’d only just discovered how pleasurable it could be. Nor did the fantasy of kissing Charles fill him with sick glee. Rather, he felt curiosity, anticipation… desire.

Love.

Edwin gasped.

“Are you well?” Jasper asked, his brows furrowing. “I apologise if it was too much –”

It was, but not in the way Jasper thought. It’d be too much, Charles had said. I'd be too much. Because he had feelings for Edwin. How could Edwin be so foolish? Ignorant of his own love, letting Charles believe his feelings were unrequited when it was the complete opposite, realising while with someone else – it was unconscionable.

Edwin could not continue deceiving Jasper in this way. He stepped out of Jasper’s arms completely. “No, no, I am well. But I’m afraid I can’t do this again.”

Jasper’s face fell. “What is wrong? If you prefer not to kiss, I would honour your choice.”

“Not the kissing, Jasper. The dates, the gifts, everything. I apologise for – I believe the term is leading you on? Only we cannot continue.”

If before he had been confused, now Jasper was plainly hurt. “Did it mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you?”

Edwin had been feeling frenetic, straightening his clothing and searching for the nearest exit, already thinking of what he would say to Charles. But the question sliced through to his vulnerable heart. “Of course not! I appreciated our dates and your gifts greatly. Besides, you were my first kiss. That matters. It is only… there is someone else, you see.”

“Your business-partner-and-best-friend?” Jasper asked. At Edwin’s shock, he gave a watery smile. “You are not the only one able to play detective, you know. I simply thought… Well. I sincerely hope he is worth it.”

He is, Edwin thought, but did not say. It would be rather rude. “Thank you, Jasper. For everything.”

“Thank you, Edwin,” Jasper echoed, his eyes terribly sad, and turned away.

As soon as he was out of sight, Edwin broke into a run. There was no guarantee that Charles should be in their office when they were not working and Edwin was otherwise occupied, but it was the best place to start. Yet somehow, now that he knew the truth of himself, every second away from Charles seemed wasted. He located a reflective-enough display, wasted another second to focus on the office, and spilled through, unusually clumsy. It was the right location, at least.

Even better – Charles was there. He was playing one of his games, bouncing a sport ball from one knee to the other, but at Edwin’s entrance, he let it drop. “Hey, mate, thought you were only coming back later.” Then, when he faced Edwin and saw his face: "Edwin? What’s wrong?”

Aware of what this might look like, Edwin rushed to reassure him. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Because it wasn’t. Because loving Charles must be the best thing in the world, even if Charles did not return those feelings to the same degree. How to articulate that love was a completely different matter. Edwin had rushed here without any sort of plan, which was certainly not normal for him. It was all frightfully impulsive. Something Charles might do, even, which meant Edwin could hardly mind it. “Charles, I…”

Charles blinked at him, unaware of his own exquisiteness. His curls were disarrayed, as if by a careless hand. His eyes were nearly black in the dim light and framed by generous eyelashes. He was dressed down, as was his usual in the office, out of his coat and jacket. (Edwin remembered the sight of Charles in his own coat, and had to take a deep breath.) His curved dark eyebrows; the glint of light outlining his jewellery; the elegant line of his nose; his lips, parted by a confused smile.

“I am difficult,” was what tumbled out of Edwin’s mouth, unplanned. Charles blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “And no one has ever accused me of being ‘fun’.” Charles frowned, opened his mouth – “Except you, of course,” Edwin added, rolling his eyes. “And, though I may not feel pressure when I am with you, it would certainly hurt if you did not want me.” Charles did not attempt to interrupt again, but simply stared, his eyes shining. Edwin inhaled sharply. “I rather fear I would be too much for you, Charles.”

"Edwin," Charles said.

There was no way to determine who moved first, but it hardly mattered, because they ended up embracing as they never had before, clinging so tightly that Edwin doubted Death herself could separate them. (Not that he would chance it.) He clenched his hands around fistfuls of Charles’ red polo, could feel Charles do the same to his poor jacket, and then Charles was shifting even closer, the sides of their faces brushing. It reminded Edwin of his newfound appreciation for kissing. His face burnt.

Charles pulled away, slowly enough that Edwin could feel their mirrored longing to remain. “Just to be really clear – I love you, Edwin. Like, I’m in love with you.”

"Oh," said Edwin, as if it had been punched out of him. “I am in love with you, as well.”

“Yeah?” asked Charles, even as his face glowed with the truth of it. Edwin feared his own face was doing very much the same thing. “Not just saying that, then?”

“As if I would,” Edwin scoffed. “I love you far too much.”

He drew Charles to him. It might only be his second – or third, depending on how you counted – experience, but Edwin could not imagine that there had ever been a more perfect kiss.

Chapter Text

Loving Edwin was the easiest thing in the world, especially when Charles knew Edwin loved him right back. Sure, it changed a couple of things – kissing for one, which Charles really, really liked – but a surprising amount of things stayed pretty much the same. It was easy enough to fall into a routine after decades together, of course, they’d realised that real quick. But there just wasn’t a lot further to go, now was there? Edwin still had some issues with physical touch, but that was just part of him, and he’d always been more comfortable around Charles than literally anyone else, anyway. Charles would still do anything to keep him safe, to keep them together. They couldn’t exactly get more attached at the hip, could they? Not that they weren’t giving it their best shot. Bloody hell, Charles had been thinking of them as queerplatonic since he first learnt the term. Now Charles just got to call Edwin his boyfriend, too.

That sort of love wasn’t something you could just forget, not when Charles had the gorgeous sight of Edwin to remind him every day, but it was so comfortable, so intrinsic, that it sort of… faded into the background a little bit. Like the phantom beat of their hearts, their useless breathing, the tread of two pairs of feet, side-by-side. A fact of the universe. Charles could finally understand those old married couples, the ones everyone always joked about, whose fights didn’t feature one shouting and the other pleading, but each giving as good as they got, the arguments old and well-trodden and playful, more a spar than a war.

Then there were the sorts of moments that brought Charles’ love into sharp relief, like some higher power was grabbing him by the shoulders and saying, See how lucky you are to have him? Not to say that it was rare – some deity had a lot of time on their hands, that was all Charles was saying – since it happened just about every time they kissed, or Edwin said he loved him. Or when Edwin made a particularly brilliant breakthrough, or they had a close call during a case, or Edwin made a cutting remark, or he was half-heartedly learning to fight, or he was saving the day with magic, or one of Charles’ jokes made him chuckle, or, or, or.

Or when he had to undress for a case, apparently.

Charles couldn’t have chosen a worse place for it if he tried. They were trying to rescue a little girl from a temporarily distracted witch, and Edwin was about to enter the literal snake’s lair. Except it was Edwin, so first he had to take off his coat.

Charles had lost count of the number of times he’d seen Edwin take off and put on his coat with efficient movements, though it only really happened in their office. And Edwin was slower now with nerves, the roll of his shoulders elegant as he shrugged it off and then removed one arm at a time. So maybe Charles was used to seeing this sort of thing in a very different context. He could hardly be blamed, now could he? Still. He was a professional. He could be so professional.

Edwin finished his accidental little striptease and handed his coat over. Charles checked him out by sheer force of habit. Knee-length grey socks, neat school uniform, fussy bow tie, classically handsome face. Check. Alright, the anxious expression wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was understandable. Charles darted a glance around the still-witchless kitchen, then very quietly wolf-whistled at him. Somewhere in the house, a crow cawed. Edwin scoffed, but at least the fear left his face, and he started edging towards the hole in the cabinet with determination.

“Hang on a tick, love,” Charles interrupted before he could get too far, and crowded into Edwin’s space for a quick snog. After ten years, it still left Edwin a little slack-jawed, which was pretty flattering. Charles grinned at him. “Kiss for good luck, yeah?”

“If a kiss were to function as a good-luck charm, I daresay we have nothing to worry about, Charles,” Edwin replied, but he still looked quietly pleased.

Just the memory of it was enough to sustain Charles through the chaos that followed: trash-talking a crow while pulling Edwin and Becky Aspen out of the magical void, confronting and possessing a witch, and finally, the sweet relief of getting away with it.

Of course, then the bloody Cat King came out to play.

He was certainly fit, Charles could give him that. (What? He was taken, not blind. It wasn’t like he and Edwin hadn’t both pointed out dishy blokes to each other before.) Charles was a bit jealous of the outfit, even. But the Cat King was also way more than they’d signed up for, the easy transformation from cat to human showing just how powerful he was. His title didn’t seem to be for show, either.

“Sorry, I’m already bored,” the Cat King yawned. But his eyes were sharp with interest, especially when they lingered on Edwin. Charles wasn’t a fan of it, especially when the Cat King followed it up with, “We should discuss your offence. Privately.”

A large part of Charles wanted to pull out his cricket bat there and then, but even after several reinforcement spells, it wasn’t exactly enough for this level of magic. Instead, Charles took a step to the side and put his arm around Edwin’s shoulders. “Oi, not without me. We’re a package deal, we are.” Edwin wouldn’t do something as uncouth as reciprocating the touch, not in public, but he relaxed into it. The Cat King’s eyes focused on where their ghostly edges were blurring together, like… well, a cat with a laser pointer. “Can’t be adopted separately and all that,” Charles added, letting his teeth show. Edwin elbowed him in the side, but didn’t disagree. That was all Charles needed to know.

Maybe the adoption thing struck a chord, but the Cat King only gestured his head, his disinterested expression as clear as a thin layer of ice over deep water, if that water happened to be horny for Charles’ boyfriend. Suddenly they were in a totally different place, spacious but dark, a neon sign of a crown the primary source of light. It illuminated a very rumpled bed. Charles rolled his eyes. Was this what passed for flirting these days?

“So… what should your punishment be?” the Cat King asked, strolling right up into Edwin’s – and by extension, Charles’ – face. It was only the three of them in the room.

“Where’s Crystal?” Charles demanded. He’d only thought about protecting Edwin in the moment, hadn’t thought to argue for her to be included, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

“Crystal. Ooh.” The Cat King gave a cheeky pat to Charles’ shoulder and walked past, forcing him and Edwin to separate to keep him within sight. He gestured a painted nail between them. “Is there some… trouble in paradise?”

“Nah, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“She is our friend, if you must know,” Edwin said, much more diplomatically.

“Oh, wow, okay.” The Cat King held his hands up, like it was a gesture of surrender instead of the threat his magic made it. “Okay. You don’t need to do all that. This is a safe space. My kingdom is all about want and pleasure.” His voice dripped with suggestion.

Charles couldn’t with this bloke. He exchanged a speaking glance with Edwin and then moved away from the whole train wreck of a conversation before he did something stupid, like bash cat royalty over the head with a cricket bat. Charles wasn’t much for monarchies. Edwin had a better head for diplomacy and magical threats, anyway.

“You’re threatening to punish me,” Edwin said, no hint of a tremble in his voice.

“Well, they’re not mutually exclusive,” was the Cat King’s brilliant retort.

Charles kept half an ear on the rest of the exchange, more intent on exploring the rest of this weird room. There were a lot of cat statues, which felt a bit narcissistic. Then again, humans had a lot of human statues, didn’t they? Nothing to prove they were statues of the Cat King specifically, though Charles wouldn’t put it past him. He nudged one of them with his foot, and had to scramble to catch it when it started to tip over. It didn’t break, at least, but it sure snitched with all the noise as he settled it back in its place.

“You are so –” the Cat King was saying, only to interrupt himself and turn to Charles. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry, mate.” Charles waved him on. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

The Cat King took a deep breath and turned back to Edwin. “You are so oddly handsome.”

“Bang on, though that ‘oddly’ is a bit unnecessary,” Charles remarked. He didn’t even try to match the Cat King’s glare, instead checking Edwin’s reaction, and drew up short. Edwin wasn’t scoffing or scornful or any number of things Charles would expect. His slight smile had dropped, but beyond that… For the first time in decades, Charles found Edwin’s face wholly unreadable.

“You two fascinate me. Well, he’s whatever” – the Cat King flicked his fingers at Charles, as if Charles gave a shit, but his golden eyes stayed only on Edwin – “but you…” He was suddenly engulfed in pink and purple flames, like when he’d transformed from cat to human, except he stayed human. Just a human with a lot less clothes on. Charles’ eyes dipped to his naked abs without his permission. He heard Edwin gasp.

The Cat King started forward. So did Charles. Yeah, Edwin should be able to handle the threat, but that didn’t mean he had to do it alone, did it? He slotted into the space at Edwin’s side like he’d been made for it – because he had, Charles was pretty sure – and raised an eyebrow at the Cat King’s approach. It wasn’t exactly a chore. Miles of bare skin on display, warmly lit, with the glint of the two necklaces dangling around his neck. There was even a cheeky flash of red boxers.

When he finally stopped, it was way too close. His face was between theirs, close enough for either of them to kiss. A flash of teeth. Bright, inhuman eyes. Messy hair. Sex hair, Charles thought guiltily. “I am fascinated by you,” the Cat King said – hadn’t he said that before? – his voice all quiet and husky. He leaned even closer. Charles watched Edwin’s eyes close in a slow blink, his lashes fucking – fluttering, of all things. Was he about to see his boyfriend kiss another bloke? Maybe this was the part where he was supposed to get mad or jealous, but, well… It was really bloody hot, innit? The Cat King’s beringed hand played over the shoulder of Edwin’s jacket, nearly touching Charles’s shoulder too – started to slip down –

Charles only realised something was wrong when Edwin jerked away. The Cat King was gripping his wrist way too tightly, and right above it was a chunky bracelet, glowing red-hot. Ghosts couldn’t get burns from heat, but Charles still winced.

Edwin raised his arm to examine the bracelet. “What the bloody hell is this?” he asked. His voice was still raspy. Charles couldn’t help but feel cheated on his behalf. The Cat King didn’t have time for one measly kiss before pulling this stunt?

“Oh, that? Well, it’s your punishment,” the Cat King said easily. “It’s a caging spell. It keeps you in this town. My… kingdom.” He fell back on the bed, chuckling, his fur coat slipping down to reveal a bare shoulder, a flash of nipple. Despite everything, it was still a tempting sight. It started to lose some appeal when he explained the parameters of the spell and Charles sensed Edwin’s panic building. “Look, it comes right off, as soon as you make me happy.”

“And what would make you happy?”

“I’m fairly sure we can figure something out.” The Cat King’s smile was definitely sultry, his eyes darting around the bedroom. “The more the merrier, don’t you think?”

Charles raised his eyebrows at Edwin. He wasn’t opposed to the idea if Edwin wasn’t, but then Edwin was the conservative one between them. It was his choice, ultimately.

But Edwin only darted one glance at him and then away, looking uncomfortable in a very not-fun way.

“Oi, you’re only going to free Edwin if we have sex with you?” Charles asked, hoping to distract the Cat King from his partner’s vulnerable moment. “Not exactly a good look, mate.”

It worked: the Cat King stood up and shrugged the fur coat back on in an annoyed move, covering up his chest again. His smile had faded. “Look, I’m a fair and consensual Cat King,” he said, stepping deliberately into their space. Charles and Edwin moved back in unison. “So I’ll give you another option: count all the cats in Port Townsend, and then the bracelet will come off.”

“Count all the cats in Port Townsend?” Edwin started, his dark eyebrows furrowing, before the dim room faded around them, and they were in the cannery once more.

“Charles! Edwin!” Crystal shouted, running over. She looked haggard, her hair a mess and dark circles under her eyes. “Where were you?!”

“Steady on, we were only gone for minutes,” Charles protested.

“It’s been literal hours,” Crystal said, gesturing at the bright morning light flooding in from outside. Convincing argument, that.

“A time dilation spell. Fascinating,” Edwin murmured.

Crystal glanced at him, before her eyes caught on something. “Um, Edwin, what’s that on your wrist?”

Edwin held his wrist – and accompanying bracelet – up for them all to see.

Charles said, “Oh, fuck."

Their first proper ghost case in Port Townsend was the Devlin family murder. Charles had pushed for it, for reasons he didn’t really want to examine. Maybe it was the thirty years ago part. Maybe it was the husband snapped part. But when Crystal shook her head and muttered, “What kind of monster does that to his own family?” to herself, Charles could only look away and hope that it was more than her amnesia speaking.

“If we are going to crack this case, research on the family and house seems necessary,” Edwin said.

Clever as she was, Crystal immediately came up with, “Wait, wasn’t Jenny born here? Bet she knows something about the family.”

“That’s brills,” Charles said. “I’ll come with.” He was usually the one talking to witnesses while Edwin did the technical research, anyway. What was the difference?

Edwin didn’t seem to agree, going by the snide way he said, “Of course you will go with her. Always running off together.”

“Oi, none of that, thanks.” Charles fought not to roll his eyes. After ten years, was Edwin still going to act like this every time they met some interesting new person? “We’re not always doing anything.” Always was reserved for him and Edwin. Always had been, always would be.

“Okay, let’s get this out of the way now,” Crystal interrupted, turning to face Edwin. “Yes, if I wasn’t being stalked by my psychotic demon ex, and Charles was actually, y’know, alive, then sure, he would make a fun addition to my body count.”

Niko giggled. Edwin blinked. “Body count?” he managed.

“Tell you later, love,” Charles said, because no way was he doing that in front of the girls. It was a bit of an ego boost, since Crystal was dead fit, but he hadn’t expected her to say it quite so easily. He’d thought, after the dead married couple on acid thing, that Crystal had clocked them for sure, but clearly not. “Look, not that I’m not flattered, but I’m a professional, yeah? And Crystal’s obviously going through a lot of stuff.” That part he aimed at Edwin more than anyone. Don’t be too harsh on her. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“What about the ghost-human thing?” Niko asked, raising her hand to ask the question and everything. It was pretty cute.

“It is doable,” Charles said without thinking. Niko gasped. Crystal’s eyebrows shot up. Realising what he’d said, Charles tried to salvage it with, “Not that I – not that we – just from past experience, or if you meet another ghost, right.”

“Fine. Fine,” Edwin cut through, raising his hands. “I’ll be going to the library to conduct actual research, not third-party conjecture.” Well, that was just rude. “Perhaps I can count more cats along the way. Come on, Niko, we have work to do.”

Charles knew that the right thing to do was to swap with Niko and bully his way back into Edwin’s good graces. But the library meant newspapers, meant pictures, meant reality. He’d choose ghost stories over that any time. Besides, Edwin knew him far too well. Charles didn’t much fancy being read like one of their tomes, not when he was feeling like this.

He couldn’t help but grin after Niko as she left, though. She just seemed to have that effect, if even Edwin was letting her tag along on a research trip.

“You know you can think things without saying them,” Crystal said as soon as the other two were out of earshot, turning to him. “Edwin’s obviously jealous.”

“Oi, you started it, didn’t you?” Charles shot back. “Talking about body counts and all that. You’ll break his brain.”

Crystal shook her head, laughing a little, and turned to go.

“Wait, Crystal.” Charles caught her arm, then quickly let it go. He couldn’t exactly disagree with her second statement. Edwin was jealous, and it warmed a shameful part of Charles.

He knew jealousy, knew its darkest corners and the poison that seeped through its cracks. He remembered the way his dad had screamed if his mum made as much as small talk with another man, the bracelet of bruises around her wrist where he grabbed too hard. It was so bloody stupid, because who the fuck would put up with all of that if they actually wanted to be with someone else? Charles had learnt better than to mention that, though, after the first time he tried. But to Harold Rowland, you’re mine had meant a possession to be used and abused. Never, ever free to make its own choices.

Edwin wasn’t like that. His you’re mine was just another way of saying I’m yours, two binary stars forever in orbit, inseparable to the naked eye. (Edwin had been on an astronomy kick a few years back. He’d read the part about binary stars aloud, and neither of them had said anything, but Charles knew they’d both thought it.) His jealousy wasn’t a matter of trust, just a simple desire to have as much of Charles as he could. Like he even needed to fight for that. But Charles couldn’t help wanting to be wanted like that.

Still, it might’ve gone too far, this time. Edwin made a point to keep professional and personal matters separate, or Charles would’ve made it clear exactly why he and Crystal would not happen. He could make an exception this one time, though, right? “Listen, it’s quiet-like, so don’t go spreading it around, but I’m already taken.”

Crystal raised a dubious eyebrow. “You were hiding a whole ghost girl back in London? That’s convenient.”

Alright, if she didn’t want to go for the obvious answer, that was her choice. Charles shrugged. “What can I say? Heart wants what it wants, innit?”

“Hmm.” Crystal swept her gaze over him. “Maybe stop flirting then, lover boy.”

Charles followed her down the stairs, grinning. There was a reason he liked her, after all.

The case was a shit show, start to finish. The research part wasn’t exactly cheerful, but the house itself was so much worse. Charles tried to lighten the mood with a joke about his taste in music, but then Crystal just had to go and take it all seriously. She really was too modern, sometimes. Charles had said similar stuff to Edwin, over the years, and he’d never reacted like that. It was just discipline, innit?

Whatever happened in the Devlin house, it went far beyond discipline. It was brutal. And it was happening over and over and over. Had been happening for thirty years. Almost as long as Charles had been a ghost. He tried to imagine reliving his death like this, with no signs of it ever stopping, and had to take one of those deep breaths he always told Edwin about.

The echoes of his past were everywhere. In Brandon Devlin’s jealousy, in his family’s begging, in Hope’s hopeless diary. None of you can leave me. Standing there, unable to do anything. Please! I’ll make it better, I’ll make it better, please! That fucking song, looping over and over. The tape, looping over and over in Charles’ Walkman, because he had been properly obsessed with it. He’d carefully set the volume to not to bother his parents – his dad – but not carefully enough. The hammer, swinging down. The axe, swinging down.

And then – nothing.

In the aftermath, Charles couldn’t even summon up a smile at Edwin and Crystal’s bonding. It was all blurred together, his dad and Brandon Devlin’s faces swimming before his eyes until they became one. Charles’ dad hadn’t – he wouldn’t – But he’d always thought of it as snapping too, hadn’t he, the way something dark shook loose in his dad and was only satisfied when Charles cowered at his feet. And sometimes, when his dad had pushed him down the stairs to his room all rough like he didn’t give a damn about Charles’ footing, or when the belt had kept coming down past the point of blood, Charles had thought that his dad really might kill him. Charles’ schoolmates had just beat him to the punch.

If Charles’ dad had known about him and Aysar – if he had known the truth about his son – there would’ve been no might about it.

Niko was a nice change of pace, not asking nosy questions or looking at Charles with pitying eyes. Maybe if they hanged out, Edwin and Crystal wouldn’t try to get the whole story out of him. There was no need for it now, was there? The case was closed. End of.

The worst part was that usually if Charles felt this unmoored from the living world, Edwin would be the one to ground him. Except now going to Edwin was the last thing he wanted, because Edwin had always been too curious by far. Charles had never told him, though Edwin must have figured something out. Still, there was a world of difference between ‘not nice’ and ‘might snap and go The Shining on his family’.

What could he even do with Edwin, when he knew PDA mortified his boyfriend? When they were stuck a world away from their office, in this fucking town where everyone and everything was out to get them?

When Charles still felt the phantom burn of his dad’s gaze prickling between his shoulder blades?

Maybe there was something in Port Townsend’s water, but no one seemed to realise Charles and Edwin were together. Crystal reacted to his banter with pitying amusement, like she thought he was trying to start something with a traumatised client for reals. Niko tried to set Edwin up with every boy in a two kilometre-radius. Monty exchanged books with Edwin and asked him on walks and stared at him with soulful eyes.

Bloody hell, Charles had never thought he’d be grateful to the Cat King of all people, but at least he’d acknowledged them being together.

But by far the worst thing was Edwin himself. Edwin, who started pushing Charles and Crystal into paired outings, even though it’d been the two of them for decades. Edwin, who found Niko charming and didn’t tell her there was no need, because he was already taken. Edwin, who talked to Monty with a little smile and didn’t shy away from his touches.

Edwin, who seemed to have forgotten he was dating Charles at all.

It couldn’t be because Monty was handsome, even though he very much was. The long, silky hair, pretty brown eyes, charming smile. Charles could see the appeal, yeah? But they’d met any number of dishy blokes back in London, and Edwin’d never let his head get seriously turned. It wasn’t like Charles thought of himself as unattractive, either – he’d flirted successfully a couple of times over the years, though that counted less since none of it was with Edwin – and from the way Edwin went on, you’d think Charles had been personally sculpted by angels. That wasn’t the issue.

But… Edwin and Monty just fitted, in the areas of Edwin’s life that Charles could never reach. Monty was an avid reader, more bookish than sporty. Like if he’d been alive during Edwin’s time, Edwin might’ve had a friend instead of another boy to bully him. Someone he could swap books with, instead of someone he had to read aloud to. When Edwin told Monty new and interesting things, Monty would have something smart to say, instead of just listening with a besotted smile. That was Monty all over, wasn’t it, new and interesting? It certainly looked that way, with how Edwin’s attention focused on him every time they interacted. Charles was old news in comparison, a ghost still stuck in the ‘80s. After thirty years of friendship and ten years of dating, the shine was bound to wear off, wasn’t it?

Well, not for Charles. But that was probably just him.

He’d never been good enough for Edwin, that was the thing. Not for the boy just escaped from Hell, tortured but never broken, who’d transformed even death into something warm and kind. Not for the co-founder of their agency, his whip-smart partner, who solved the most difficult of cases without a problem. Not for the very best friend that could exist, who stuck it out with him for literal decades and never wavered. Not for the love of Charles’ life, death, ghostly existence, and everything beyond – who’d placed his heart in Charles’ hands as if he trusted him with it, as if he couldn’t see the blood dripping down Charles’ fingers, the violence built into his bones.

The knowledge of it hadn’t stopped him from keeping Edwin, greedy bastard that he was. But Charles could admit defeat when a better option came by, couldn’t he? He wasn’t that far gone, at least.

(Charles thought of Edwin and Monty, their heads ducked together. He thought of dragging Edwin away, hand clenched tight around his wrist, Edwin protesting, Charles screaming. He thought of, You think you can leave me for Hudson? He thought of his dad’s hand clenched tight around his mum’s wrist, his mum protesting, his dad screaming. A bracelet of bruises. A ring. His mum growing quieter and quieter, day by day. Edwin growing quieter and quieter, day by day. What was life except the repetition of the same patterns, over and over and over, until the end of forever?)

Who wouldn’t choose Monty, compared to all of that?

From the start of Niko’s case to well beyond, Charles kept an interested eye on Crystal’s interactions with her. He’d always been a romantic, after all. Being with Edwin had only made it worse. ‘Sides, what better to distract you from your own relationship drama than someone else’s?

There’d been the girls’ first meeting, of course, but Charles had been a tad distracted by the thought of revealing stuff about his parents that he hadn’t even told Edwin. Crystal had looked a little starstruck, gesturing behind her at a closed door, but that was it.

He hadn’t witnessed their second meeting, but he heard enough when Crystal – for some reason – told the doctor about it. Seeing colours. Yeah, that sounded normal. Then again, as a psychic, Crystal wasn’t exactly normal, now was she? Charles wouldn’t be too surprised if that was how psychics started fancying someone. Or maybe that was only the queer ones?

Alright, so it turned out that was mostly because of the dandelion sprites, but it didn’t mean that was all there was to it! Crystal had been so great at questioning Niko, all soft and caring, knowing exactly when to push and when to back off. When Edwin had asked what she did to get Niko to trust her, Crystal had only mumbled something about family talk – which sounded like a nightmare if you asked Charles, not that anyone did – with a depth of emotion hidden in the simple words. It was, Charles thought fondly, the beginning of the end for poor Crystal.

Then Crystal jumped at the chance to offer herself up to save Niko. It wasn’t necessary, luckily, with the sprites ethically removed in the end. Case closed, day saved, job jobbed, all those good things. Niko said she needed a shower to recover from the whole thing, which Charles definitely got, but since she was still a little weak on her feet, Crystal helped her to the bathroom. Charles waggled his eyebrows at Crystal for it, but she just frowned back. Still in denial, then.

Edwin stepped over to the enchanted jar to examine the sprites, bending neatly at the waist with his hands clasped behind him. Charles grinned at the elegant lines of his form. Edwin said, “I do believe these sprites are aiming crass gestures at me, Charles.”

Charles took his place next to Edwin, bumping their hips together. The sprites were giving them the silent treatment now, but they were sitting with their backs against each other, their tiny middle fingers raised. They were awful things, nearly exploding Niko and slagging off everyone around them, but looking at how comfortable they were with each other, Charles couldn’t help but think of him and Edwin. “I’d be okay being stuck in a jar if it was with you, love.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles, you would have cabin fever within minutes,” Edwin said. But the corner of his mouth ticked up.

The little bloke sneered. “Yeah, yeah, you’d love him if he was a worm, we fucking get it! Can you stop being gay right in front of our salad?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kingham!” the bird shrieked, elbowing him. “Stop talking to the gay baby-haters!” Despite being a couple of centimetres tall, she managed to look down her nose at them. “We’re not homophobic, okay, we just hate you.”

They were interrupted by the room door opening to reveal Niko and Crystal. It was only when Niko removed the towel from her hair that Charles realised the colour had been totally bleached from it. Crystal couldn’t have realised either, because she said, “Holy shit, Niko, your hair!”

Niko grinned sunnily. “I know. I look amazing.”

“The sprites’ handiwork,” Edwin said, straightening up before he and Charles made their way over to them. This time, something was different, though. Niko wasn’t looking through them, but at them, her mouth falling open.

“Oh my God. Are these your friends?” she asked, because she could actually see them now. Near-death experiences were neat like that. A flurry of introductions followed (with Niko at least showing proper appreciation for their agency name, cheers, Crystal).

As Niko cooed over the sprites that recently inhabited her and argued with Edwin about keeping them, Charles took Crystal aside. “That stuff you said, about feeling like you don’t have a place?”

Crystal shook it off way too fast, looking away and shaking her head. “That was just… A good detective says what she has to, right?” Her voice and smile were both way too chipper.

But if she didn’t want to talk about it, they didn’t have to. “Right. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad the jar worked. I wasn’t sure it was gonna.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“It would be a shame if dandelions exploded out of your face,” Charles teased.

Niko must’ve heard that part, because she very earnestly added, “Yeah, I’m really happy that dandelions didn’t explode out of your or my face, that would really have sucked.” She stepped closer to them, taking Crystal’s hand in both of hers, tilting her head down to make direct eye contact. Charles watched the way Crystal’s hand twitched the tiniest bit, the way her lips parted, the way her cheeks darkened. “Thanks for saving my life. I wasn’t all there, but I could hear some of what you were saying, and it’s not true. Your family is out there searching for you, I just know they are.”

There was the reaction Charles had wanted by starting this conversation in the first place: Crystal softened like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the only tension in the squeeze of her hand around Niko’s. Her smile was small and sweet. “You’re right. Obviously. Guess I just needed to hear that.”

Charles fought down a grin. Oh yeah, Crystal was gone.

Niko was more difficult to figure out. In what Charles mentally started calling the (Bloody Awkward) Body Count Conversation of ‘24, she’d seemed more excited than jealous, as if she wanted Crystal to get with someone else. Talking to Niko was a nice distraction for Charles after the fucking Devlin house, at least. It meant a lot that she’d come to help, as scared as she was, and she slotted in next to Crystal as easy as anything when the pavement got to be too narrow for more than two people to walk side-by-side. The way Niko grinned at Edwin and Monty talking did make Charles lose some good feelings toward her, but he quickly shook it off. No use blaming Niko for how fucked up Charles was, innit?

The next case, featuring a lot of people jumping from the Point No-Point lighthouse, was a goldmine in comparison. It even made up for all the awkward questions about his dad! Sort of. Niko and Crystal walked next to each other again, that was something. Only, the mood got very much ruined by the woman leaping from the lighthouse – Charles turned his head away in unison with Niko, squeezing his eyes shut just before the woman hit the water – and the subsequent arrival of the predictably useless living police.

So maybe Charles got a little distracted, questioning Edwin about him seeing the Cat King again. Who could blame him? That wanker had been sleazy enough when Charles and Edwin were presenting a united front. Why did Edwin go alone? Why was he planning on hiding it, after everything? Charles didn’t notice Crystal moving away until it was far too late, and she was teetering on the edge. He sprinted after her – he couldn’t lose anyone else –

Niko got there first. As Crystal’s foot stepped out onto nothing, Niko grabbed a handful of her long coat and pulled. With how off Crystal’s balance was, she fell easily – in the right direction, at least, and into Niko’s arms. Crystal didn’t act like she’d just nearly died, screaming and fighting against Niko like a wild thing, but Niko held her steady. Charles joined Edwin at the edge, staring down at the strange light in the sea and resolutely ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach.

“It’s my mom’s voice! It’s my mom’s voice!” Crystal was still screaming, desperate like Charles had never heard her before.

“There’s no voice, Crystal,” Niko tried to soothe her.

“What the bloody hell is that down there?” Charles asked Edwin quietly, turning his back to the view. Edwin would remember all the important details, anyway.

But for once, Edwin had no answer ready.

They walked along the coast to get closer to the water, and now it was Charles’ turn to try to cheer Crystal up. The way she was thinking about the whole thing was dangerous, though. God knew Charles would do something stupid if he heard his mum’s voice call out to him, but whatever the thing was, it was no one’s mum.

“Crystal, it’s a trick,” he said. “One that’s killing people. What if you hear her voice again?”

“If it is causing the jumps, these aren’t suicides,” Crystal argued back. “Then why are the ghosts still here?”

“You saw them lurking on the rocks. They’re waiting for their loved ones to appear. It’s unfinished business.” Charles’ gaze swung to Edwin, a compass to true north. “Right, Edwin?” Edwin was already staring back, and for a moment Charles basked in that loving look that he privately thought Edwin should always wear. Except Edwin gasped like he’d been caught doing something wrong, and made up some flimsy excuse to go talk to Niko. Charles headed the other way before he snapped and did something even more spectacularly stupid than usual.

That flimsy excuse did lead to meeting the Washer Woman and getting some clue as to how to solve the case, though, so it all worked out in the end. As they made their way to Tragic Mick’s shop, Charles couldn’t help but notice Crystal fiddling with a pretty pink piece of sea glass.

“Charles, that was… extreme,” Edwin said, staring at Charles like he was a liability. Like he was a threat. It had only taken thirty years, but by God, Edwin had finally realised what sort of monster he’d let into his heart. Charles could only shake his head, his laughter bitter and edged, at his own idiocy. Miracles didn’t happen to someone like Charles Rowland. Eventually the universe had to even it all out again. The only surprise was how long it’d taken. Just long enough to make him think he was safe.

Why not go all the way, then? He had nothing left to lose. “Was it too extreme, Edwin? So was me dying at sixteen!” His voice rose without his say-so. Charles clenched his jaw against it and his instinctively chattering teeth. He wasn’t in the water anymore. He wasn’t. “I don’t wanna be dead. I hate it. But every day, I’m fucking smiling. ‘Cause who else is gonna be the one holding it together and keeping spirits up? You? Are you gonna do that, huh?” Edwin’s face was so… stricken, lips parted and wordless in a way that they never were, eyes shiny with tears that didn’t quite spill over, not yet. Charles was being fucking awful, but there was poison in him and it wanted out. “For what? What good am I even doing? I couldn’t stop Devlin from murdering his family over and over. I can’t stop whatever it is that’s going on with you. I can’t stop Crystal from hurting. I can’t stop anything!” He took a deep, shuddering, useless breath. “I sure as hell couldn’t stop my dad from beating the shit out of me. No matter how good I was.” There it was, all out in the open. No more hiding.

Please, I’ll make it better! But he hadn’t, had he? He never could.

It was less of a choice to kneel and more that his knees simply gave up on him, his body betraying him piece by piece. Charles couldn’t stop crying or shivering. His dad had hated the crying, had always given him a few extra wallops if he started. Real men were supposed to take a belting without a sound, like his dad had with his dad. Openly crying felt like just about the biggest fuck you Charles had in him right now.

“Charles,” said Edwin, suddenly right beside him. “It’s going to be okay.” Pressure on his back – the snap of a belt – Charles flinched away.

“No.”

All of them took a turn at trying to talk to him, but Charles just turned his head away, and eventually they stopped trying. It was for the best. He didn’t want to know what he would do to them if he snapped.

But morning had to come eventually, and with it the knowledge that the festival-goers were in safe from supernatural dangers like Angie, at least. Case closed. Charles wished he could be happier about it.

When they’d trudged all the way back to Tongue & Tail, Niko turned to them and said, “Today was a lot. But thanks for letting me tag along. It’s so much better than hanging out in my room by myself.” She had eyes only for Crystal as she added, “I think I’m gonna go do something where I don’t have to think now.”

Before Niko could head into her room, Crystal reached over and touched her arm. “Hey, Niko. Thanks for, like, saving my ass today.” They spent a long moment just smiling at each other. Charles could see Crystal hesitating, clearly working herself up to something. He gave her the world’s subtlest thumbs-up. The way she was staring at Niko, she probably didn’t even see it, but it was the thought that counted. Crystal’s courage had to win out – Charles wasn’t surprised, it was one hell of an opponent – because she said, “Uh, I’d rather not be alone right now, though. Can I come hang at yours?”

If Niko’s smile had been brilliant before, now it was blinding. “As long as you don’t mind Scooby-Doo.”

Crystal clearly didn’t, because both of them went into Niko’s room without a backwards glance. Charles thought about following them, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with so many people at once. Maybe he should just wait it out in Crystal’s room, while she was gone?

The gentle clearing of Edwin’s throat broke through his thoughts. “This building has rooftop access, if you should like to…”

“That’d be brills,” Charles said, his smile coming a bit easier. He only made it up a couple of stairs before he noticed the lack of accompanying footsteps. “Oi, what are you waiting for?”

“Oh,” said Edwin, very quietly. His tread joined Charles’, the combined sound as natural as any symbiotic pairing. Together, they made their way to the rooftop, which could at most be described as dingy, but at least had some fresh air and a nice view. Charles headed directly for the edge, swinging his legs over to dangle against the side of the building. Edwin’s approach was slower, more careful, even though falling from this height would do nothing to them. Falling from any height, actually. But it was Edwin. He might’ve put a hand on Charles for balance, usually, but now it was nowhere to be seen. Like he thought a touch might make Charles snap.

He wasn’t necessarily wrong, which only made it worse.

They sat in silence, staring out over Port Townsend. Charles felt a bolt of visceral homesickness. It wasn’t typical, not when he always had Edwin with him, but he missed London, missed their office and their collection of trinkets, missed the Charles and Edwin who didn’t have so much distance between them. Well, there was at least one of those that he could fix. Charles slouched to the side, bumping his shoulder against Edwin’s, and like he’d been waiting for it, Edwin’s arm came around him and drew him close. With his face tucked into Edwin’s neck, his eyes closed, Charles could almost pretend they were back in London, sitting on the roof of their office building after a simple case.

“You’re shivering,” Edwin said suddenly, and pulled away. Charles clenched his jaw against the urge to follow after him. But Edwin didn’t go far, just removed his coat with efficient movements and handed it over.

Charles glanced down at it, rubbing his thumb over the lapels. The texture was more imagined than real, soft where it brushed Edwin’s neck, because no way could he have handled scratchy clothes when he was alive. Too late, he said, “I’m fine.” What good would one extra coat do, anyway? Charles was already in all his layers, never mind that he felt the sodden press of wet clothes, weighing him down. Edwin’s coat was dry, at least, phantom warmth lingering in the lining. Edwin hadn’t been in the water. Thank God.

“Clearly,” Edwin replied, but his sarcasm was undercut with something softer. “Charles… What happened? You mentioned memories. What did you see?”

Charles pressed his lips together, hugging the coat close like he wished he could hug Edwin.

“You’ve only ever had such a reaction when we returned to St. Hilarion’s for the Case of the Justice Hauntings in ‘14,” Edwin continued, putting the clues together as always. “Did she show you your death?”

“Some of it, yeah.” Charles could hardly remember the end of that visit to St. Hilarion’s, just the embarrassment of Edwin and Aysar both seeing him like that. This time, neither of them had been there. Only the Night Nurse’s smug comments had kept him company as she peeled open barely-healed wounds and dug her nails right in. The water had been so cold. He’d forgotten that part. What a thing to fully feel for the first time in over thirty years.

“Oh, Charles,” Edwin said, and he sounded devastated, his voice all wobbly and splintering around the edges. “May I touch you? Please.”

He’d never heard Edwin sound like that before, like he was barely holding back tears. A part of Charles wanted to protest, to say, It wasn’t that bad, you know I’m just being dramatic. It wasn’t anything new, after all, and Charles had – well, he hadn’t survived it, no, but he was still here, wasn’t he? But he was too selfish to go through with it, tipping back into Edwin in silent answer. Both of Edwin’s arms came around him, this time, pressing them together like ghosts could actually share body heat.

“And… your father?”

Charles flinched.

“You know, Charles, you can talk to me. About anything,” Edwin said. Not a demand, but an offer.

“You can talk to me about anything too, love,” Charles said, because it was always true. “But you don’t talk about Hell, now do you?”

“I’ve never been accused of that before,” said Edwin, almost amused. “You will find that our acquaintances’ complaints tend to be the complete opposite, in fact.”

Charles shook his head against Edwin’s throat. “That you were in Hell, yeah, not what happened during it. D’you want to talk about that?” The way Edwin stiffened against him was answer enough. “So when I say I don’t want to talk about my shit, I mean it, alright?”

“Very well,” Edwin said. But he could only hold out for a few minutes before breaking. “When you said that you hate being dead…”

When Charles had said that, he’d known it would hurt Edwin, had wanted it to. Going by the way even Edwin’s iron control couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, the way he trailed off into silence, it had done the job all too well. The worst part was that Charles hadn’t been lying, and Edwin knew him too well to have missed that. If there existed a way for the two of them to be alive together, to experience all of life and to grow old together, Charles would sacrifice just about anything for that chance. But – “We’re here now, and there’s literally no one else I’d rather be dead with. You’re my forever, Edwin. You always will be.”

Edwin didn’t reply, but his hold on Charles tightened. There was still too much unsaid between them for it to be perfect, but it came pretty damn close.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the not-so-restful dead were treated to a round of screaming from Crystal’s room. Charles and Edwin went running, of course, but there was no vengeful witch breaking in. Just a normal nightmare. God, Charles didn’t miss having those, especially not after the last couple of days.

Edwin was maybe a little too used to being without it, though, the way he snarked, “All that for a nightmare? The living know nothing of actual nightmares. Try Hell –”

“Oh, Hell was terrible, we get it,” Crystal cut in, very obviously rolling her eyes. Edwin shot Charles a glance and a smug little smile that said, I told you so. Charles had to fight to hide his laughter. It was so Edwin to be a prick just to prove a stupid point about how often he mentioned Hell. He was lucky Charles loved him. Crystal added, her voice smaller, “Can I talk to Charles for a minute?”

Charles didn’t have the first idea what this was about, but he only smiled at Edwin’s annoyed expression. “Just a tick, hey, love?”

“Fine, then,” Edwin said, flashing a fake smile. He spun on his heel and phased through the door.

Charles took a seat next to Crystal, trying not to take it personally when she twitched her arm away from him. Ghosts tended to run colder than the living, especially when they’d kicked it from hypothermia. If Crystal’s response had more to do with how their last case ended, though, then Charles couldn’t exactly blame her, could he?

“Was your nightmare –”

Crystal immediately shook her head. “It’s not about that. I just wanted to talk to you because I thought you’d understand. You’re bisexual, right?”

“Yeah,” said Charles, because saying, Finally! might be kind of rude. He gestured at his coat lapels, where his bi flag and queer pins sat. “I advertise it and everything. What’s this about, then?”

“So, uh,” said Crystal, fiddling with her blanket and avoiding his eyes. Then, all at once, like she was desperate to get it out: “I kissed Niko.”

“That’s brills!” Charles said, grinning at her. It was nice to know his romantic instincts were still up to scratch.

“No!”

Charles didn’t understand. “It’s… not brills?”

Like she couldn’t handle another second of sitting still, Crystal jumped up and started pacing back and forth in front of him. It was a bit of a role reversal for Charles, honestly. He wasn’t usually the one sitting calmly, now was he? “I didn’t plan it! It was just – she started reading her mom’s letters and I could see it was making her sad, and I was already messed up from the whole thing, so then I said I wanted a distraction and – we kissed.”

“Right,” Charles said slowly. He couldn’t exactly say he’d been in a situation like that before. “Was it not good?”

Crystal paused in her pacing to face him, her eyes wild and her hair only getting more and more messy as she ran her hands through it. “It was really, really good. Like I can’t overemphasise how good it was.”

“I’m not seeing the problem, then, mate.”

“The problem is that Niko’s a romantic, and I can’t do romance right now. Not with David hanging around and my missing memories and everything. I think it hurt her, though.” When she finally slumped back to sit next to Charles, her eyes were shiny. “I think… I think it was her first kiss.”

Charles gave her a friendly nudge. “Hey, she would’ve said if she didn’t want to kiss you, right? Let her make her own decisions. And I’m sure she understands your reasons. We all do. It might be a little awkward at first, but you’ll get through it. You’re strong like that, Crystal.”

Crystal sniffed and dashed a hand over her eyes. “Thanks. That… that means a lot.” She hesitated. “I kind of want to ask her to wait for me. Like, once I’ve sorted myself out, I’d like to give it another go. Is that selfish?”

“Nothing wrong with being a little selfish sometimes,” Charles said, shrugging. He wasn’t exactly the best person to ask about this. He’d been selfish all his life and well past the end of it. “For what it’s worth, I think she’d wait for you anyway.”

Crystal gave him a fragile smile.

Then it was immediately back into casework, with clients that Edwin of all people brought them. Charles couldn’t complain, not when the case was shaping up to be pretty simple, and he, Edwin, and Crystal actually agreed on something for the first time in forever. It also helped that Charles really liked Brad and Hunter. They were clearly good sorts, friends as close as could be, jocks but not bullies, well-liked by everyone.

Everyone except a sketchy character called Twitchy Richie, apparently.

Charles didn’t think much of him from the get-go. He might talk as if he cared about girls, but if his brain was exclusively filled with porn, he wasn’t all that respectful, now was he? He was just trying to drag two good lads’ names through the mud.

“But I also heard they died in, like, a secret gay suicide pact,” Twitchy Richie was saying, and his little sneer only made Charles dislike him more.

“What?” Edwin asked, too loud, darting a glance at Charles and then away.

Charles shook his head, keeping one eye on Edwin. “Nah, they’re best mates.” And he would know. Brad and Hunter had been friendly with each other, but that was all. There were no lingering touches or longing glances, just the sort of comfort that spoke of years as mates. If either of them were queer, Charles hadn’t picked up on it.

Crystal, who couldn’t exactly admit to having interacted with the lads’ ghosts, went a different route. “I met Brad’s girlfriend, Maren. Seems like they were super in love.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t out there giving each other hand jobs,” was Twitchy Richie’s brilliant reply.

“What is a hand job?” Edwin asked, frowning.

Charles stared at him, speechless. There was no way – Edwin had to know that one, after everything they’d done together.

Alright, maybe Charles hadn’t ever called it that exactly – he challenged anyone to have Edwin Payne under them, naked and flushed and wanting, and see if they could still remember technical terms – but surely Edwin had come across it somewhere. One of the romance books he liked to sneak into their collection, maybe. Charles had made Edwin read one aloud to him, once, which had… quickly devolved. Charles shifted on his feet. Swallowed. “Oh, bloody hell.” This was so not professional.

Things quickly got back on track when Twitchy Richie pulled out the ol’ intimidation tactic on Crystal. Not so chivalrous, after all. Charles thought, Chivalry really is dead, and fought down his laugh. He’d have to remember that one for later. Edwin would absolutely hate it.

The haunting was the most fun Charles’d had in ages, and he grinned as Edwin brought out the classic scissor trick. Still not as fun as haunting his murderers, but that was an impossible standard to beat, after all.

Charles usually didn’t mind them hiding from Death and/or Hell in his backpack. He trusted his knowledge of the pocket dimension, no one else would be able to get to them easily, and it was nicely cosy when he and Edwin were sharing the space, surrounding by all the trinkets they’d collected and stored in there over the years.

But after how fucking wrong he’d been about Brad and Hunter, it just felt claustrophobic, like the mouth of a monster that had swallowed them whole and was just waiting to digest them. As soon as the shrieking from outside faded, Charles struggled out, tugging Edwin along by the hand so that he wouldn’t get lost in there. The memory of red light was still too close. He walked – nearly ran – off the field. Not into the wood (not this time), though Charles hardly noticed anything beyond that. He tossed his backpack blindly to the side.

“Charles –”

“I wanted them to be good guys!” Charles shouted, turning on Edwin. Fuck, he could already feel his eyes burning. “I… I depend on… It’s who I want to be. A good guy. But all I feel lately is angry. Oh, God.” He tilted his head back, even though his tears were a lost cause already. “I’m worried that maybe I’m like Brad and Hunter. Like the lads that killed me. Like my dad. I don’t want to be a bad guy, Edwin.” Their gazes caught and held. Charles whispered, “I don’t want to be hurting you.”

“Charles.” Maybe to someone else, Edwin would look perfectly impassive, but Charles had been studying his expressions for going on four decades, now. The little pause before his name, the carefully steady voice, the depth of his eyes – it all said plenty. “I spent over seventy years in the worst place with the worst people.” With every word, he stepped closer. “And I promise you, bad guys do not worry about being bad guys.”

Charles sniffed, quirked a smile. He couldn’t bear to look anywhere but at Edwin, so close to him. “Is that right?” It was a nice sentiment, but he struggled to believe it. What if his worries were just him faking it? Still, it meant a lot that Edwin would try to comfort him.

But Edwin wasn’t done. “I daresay we all worry about who we really are. Deep down. All of us. But you, Charles Rowland,” – he popped Charles’ collar, the skin of his fingers brushing dangerously against Charles’ neck, and readjusted a stray pin – “are the best person I know.”

Charles smiled at him, helpless not to, only for it to drop just as quickly. “I’m not, though. I’m not good for you. You deserve better than me. You always have. If you’d rather be with Monty, just say the word. I’ll –” Be fine? The lie tasted rotten on his tongue. “I’d understand.”

Edwin’s face went blank, then reformed into an affronted frown. “Monty? Why would I – he’s my friend! Did you think our meetings were of a romantic nature? That I would betray you in that fashion?” There was real hurt in his voice.

“No!” Charles scrambled to recover. He’d never planned to tell Edwin about it, and then it’d just spilled out, but he hadn’t exactly expected this reaction. “I know you’d never cheat on me! It’s just that he clearly fancies you, and…” He looked at his feet. “I don’t know, you seem to really like hanging out with him.”

Edwin didn’t let him get away with avoiding eye contact that easily, slipping a finger under his chin and tilting his head up until their gazes met once more. “If his interest in me caused you discomfort, why not tell me? I would hardly have continued our meetings, had I known.”

“Didn’t seem fair, did it, not after everything with Crystal,” said Charles, shrugging. He felt half-drugged, just from getting Edwin’s full and focused attention for the first time in weeks. Half of him wanted to escape Edwin’s gaze. The other half never wanted to look away. Edwin’s eyes were the stormy grey of a ship-wrecking sea, and for the first time, Charles found himself happy at the thought of drowning.

“You will find that, while I might have acted the jealous fool, I did not address the issue directly, either. Besides, Crystal has evidently moved on, from what Niko has told me.” Oh, so Niko told Edwin about the kiss? That was cute. Edwin hesitated, but continued, “I was merely, hm… unhappy at hiding our relationship in front of the others, I suppose.”

Charles could only stare. “But you hate being obvious about us in front of clients and strangers. You think it’s unprofessional.”

“Yes, well.” Edwin tugged on Charles’ coat lapel, his smile coy. “Our friends hardly qualify as either of those, wouldn’t you say?” Just as quickly, the smile dropped into seriousness. “As for your other sentiments – you must not believe such things. You could never hurt me in any way that matters. Darling, you are the very best thing to have happened to me.” That term of endearment, so rarely used, nearly took Charles out at the knees. “If anything, you are the one to deserve better than me.”

“Guess it evens out in the end, then,” Charles said, and grabbed Edwin into the hug he’d been itching for since they’d arrived in Port Townsend. It was too enthusiastic, rocking them back and forth as they regained balance, but Charles didn’t mind the thought of falling for Edwin. He’d had plenty of practice. He clutched Edwin close, his thumb sweeping over that lovely brown coat, and nuzzled the sides of their faces together. Real close to Edwin’s ear, he whispered, “You’re the best thing to have happened to me too, love.” Edwin shivered and pressed him closer, as close as they could get without spectrally overlapping. It still wasn’t enough. With one long sigh, all the tension drained from Edwin, and that – yeah, it was pretty much perfect.

Charles wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of forever in this hug, but eventually Edwin pulled away. It was understandable: Edwin didn’t have the best relationship with touch at the best of times, and they were in a strange place after an emotional conversation. But Edwin just shifted his hands down to hold Charles’ waist, and, without even a warning, fucking – dipped him. Charles tightened his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, but that was all he needed to do. After thirty-five years of dancing together, he trusted Edwin to catch him. Then Edwin’s mouth was on his, their bodies curving together, and Charles was clutching at Edwin’s shoulders for a completely different reason. Maybe kissing the same person was supposed to get boring at some point, but if that was the case, they hadn’t reached it yet. Charles doubted they ever would. Edwin was an academic at heart, and he excelled in the study of kissing as much as any other field that caught his fancy.

The kiss got very hot, very quickly, which was maybe Charles’ fault for slipping Edwin some tongue. Who could blame him? Edwin’s hands had made their way under his coat and jacket, and were stroking over Charles’ polo like he was thinking about going another layer or two down. Their positions weren’t physically uncomfortable for ghosts, at least, but Charles had tensed his core by instinct, and his ab muscles twitched at every sweep of Edwin’s fingers. His own hands were busy destroying Edwin’s neat hairstyle, delighting in the noises he managed to coax out of him. Edwin abandoned his lips to trail kisses over his cheek, one hand going to the back of Charles’ head, probably in revenge. He threaded his fingers into the curls and tugged. Charles moaned, tilting his head back. Scratch that, definitely in revenge. There was a sharp click, a tug at Charles’ earlobe. Edwin was – oh God, Edwin had his earring between his teeth. Charles moaned even louder.

It was all very sexy and lovely and fun, but there was no way they were having sex for the first time in Port Townsend underneath – Charles took his first proper look around – what looked like the school bleachers. He refused. Knowing he sounded too breathless to be convincing, he said, “Maybe… maybe we should slow down.” He stroked one hand gently down Edwin’s back.

Edwin did, after one last moan-inducing tug on his earring, finally letting them both up. He eyed Charles appraisingly, and then their surroundings. “Honestly, Charles, you are far too romantic, sometimes.”

“Oi! Just trying to do this right.”

“I planned to meet with Monty, in any case. I suppose it is time to let him know where we stand.”

Charles looked down. Where’d he put his backpack, anyway? “Right. ‘Course.”

Again, Edwin caught him with a gentle finger at his jaw. He didn’t need to do anything else to capture Charles, really. “Charles, you are the one with whom I have spent thirty-five years. You are the one with whom I plan to spend eternity. You are the one with whom I am in love. That will never change.” That finger drifted down to his rumpled clothes. “If you still doubt it, then I clearly did a subpar job.” But he didn’t mess Charles up any further, instead straightening his clothes, adjusting his collar back to being properly popped, even smoothing his hair down, though Charles didn’t know why he bothered.

“You already know you didn’t,” Charles told him. For his part, he made sure Edwin’s clothing was proper as always and then patted his hair back into shape, silently mourning the messy look he adored. “I love you, too, y’know.”

Edwin smiled. “I know.” At Charles’ indignant squawk, he added, “I have already said it!”

“Not properly!”

“I love you, as well,” Edwin said with a long-suffering sigh. He couldn’t fool Charles, though. He loved him. “I was wondering if you should like to accompany me to my meeting with Monty?”

Charles’ smile dropped without his permission. “You don’t need to –”

“I know. I want you to.”

He wavered, but in the end, when had Charles ever given up a chance to spend more time with Edwin?

They walked to the swing set where Monty had planned to meet with Edwin, and it was quiet and yet the most comfortable Charles had felt since they left London. They stepped in tandem, their linked hands swinging between them. Just before they reached the edge of the playground, Charles split from Edwin. He knew if he’d been the one being kind of broken up with, he sure as hell wouldn’t want anyone else to be there. Still, the night was cold. Charles raised their clasped hands so that Edwin’s hand was pressing against his heart, until he could imagine that the phantom heat of it was imprinted there. “Right, I’m ready. Go break that poor boy’s heart, love.”

Edwin huffed, sweeping his thumb over Charles’ heart one last time before dropping his hand and spinning around, making his way to the swing set. From here, Charles could just keep him in sight without showing himself. Monty showed up within minutes, wearing that bright smile and watching Edwin with a look that was more than besotted. Without his insecurities clouding his vision, Charles was starting to feel bad for Monty. It wasn’t exactly his fault that he fell in love with Edwin. Who wouldn’t?

Charles couldn’t make out words, but he could pick up on the tone. Edwin was calm and collected throughout. Monty, on the other hand, started out almost childishly excited, but as Edwin talked, he started getting agitated, his volume rising and falling so that Charles could occasionally hear fragments. Charles really wanted to give them privacy, but his instinct to protect Edwin was too deeply ingrained. He needed to be within cricket bat distance, if anything went wrong. Monty seemed a good bloke, but Charles didn’t like that tone of his voice aimed at Edwin. He wasn’t exactly trusting his own judgement of good blokes at the moment, either.

“This isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go,” Monty was saying when Charles reached hearing distance. Monty looked like a wild thing. Like he had nothing to lose. Abruptly, he swung right into Edwin’s space, clasping his hands to the sides of Edwin’s face, and kissed him.

It was immediately obvious that something was wrong. Edwin had stiffened, not responding at all, and every line of his body radiated discomfort. It wasn’t like Charles enjoyed the idea of his boyfriend kissing other blokes, but – Charles thought back to the Cat King – if Edwin was enjoying himself, there was an element of hotness to it. This was the furthest thing from it.

Charles knew Edwin could handle himself, so the fact that he wasn’t doing anything was either because he was sparing Monty’s feelings, or because he couldn’t. Either way, Charles had neither of those problems. He stalked over and shoved Monty away. Getting your heart broken was one thing, but kissing someone who wasn’t into it? Charles wouldn’t stand for it. “Right, that’s enough of that.”

Monty gaped at him, and then Edwin. “You brought your guard dog along on our date?”

Edwin’s voice was iron, cold but burning. “Do not speak of Charles in that manner. And as I have already pointed out, I did not understand the romantic intention behind our plans, or I would have refused. I have already apologised for the misunderstanding, and that is all there is to it.” Without seeming to notice, he’d taken Charles’ hand in his. Charles squeezed back, hoping it was as comforting for Edwin as for him.

But Monty was too observant, his eyes dropping to their clasped hands. “Oh, so when you were talking about being ‘romantically attached’, you meant this?” His sneer was cruel, a little bit familiar in a way Charles couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Some jock with more muscle than brain, making you solve all your cases on your own? Wake up, Edwin, he’ll probably leave you for the next girl to look his way!”

Charles rolled his eyes. He wasn’t listening to this. “C’mon, Edwin, let’s go.”

Edwin didn’t budge. “Excuse me?” he said, his voice was quiet and all the more dangerous for it.

“Pretty sure you heard me.” Monty was inspecting his nails with great care. “I just think it’s sad that you’re settling for someone like him when you could do so much better.”

Very slowly, Edwin stood up and stepped closer, until he towered over Monty. Monty grinned, probably thinking he’d won, but Charles watched the angry blotches of colour high on Edwin’s cheekbones, his thinned lips and straight eyebrows and the flare of his nostrils, and he knew this was only the eye of the storm. “Charles is the co-founder of our agency and a vital asset in the solving of our cases,” he began, his voice steadily rising as the storm picked up. “He is one of the cleverest people I know, and certainly the kindest. I have had the honour of being his companion for well over three decades. Neither of us are leaving the other. How dare you speak of him as if you are better than him, when, in fact, you know nothing of him, nor what we mean to each other? You could not even begin to comprehend a fraction of it!”

As Edwin’s furious words poured out, Monty turned whiter and whiter until he looked more ghostly than they did. When the speech finally ended, he didn’t even try to protest. He just ran.

From where he was leaning against the side of the swing set, Charles gently cleared his throat. He waited until Edwin turned that lightning gaze on him, then said, “Have I ever told you how fit you look when you defend my honour?”

Crystal and Niko were acting really weird. Charles might’ve thought it was more romantic drama, except they were acting guilty specifically towards him and Edwin. It wasn’t like the girls could accidentally shag in his and Edwin’s bed, which was all the way back in London, unlike their own, so conveniently placed… Not that he and Edwin had accidentally shagged in one of theirs. Well, Charles had managed to talk Edwin out of it, at least. Also, since Crystal didn’t want to start anything romantic now, accidental shags would send all sorts of mixed signals, which was pretty unfair to Niko.

But it was all brills. He and Edwin were stronger than ever, ready to face a day of cases with the help of their resident psychic. Charles couldn’t help but share a secret smile with Edwin, nudging him where the girls couldn’t see. Not that he needed to hide it, anymore. It still gave him a little thrill to remember.

Then again, it was looking like he could snog Edwin silly right here, without their mates noticing a thing, so caught up were they in whatever was going on with them.

So, of course, this was the moment Monty decided to show up, too. How’d he even make it past Jenny? “Hey,” said Monty, almost casually.

“Okay, are we all just gonna end up on the roof?” Crystal snarked.

Charles hardly noticed, glancing between Edwin and Monty. If that wanker did anything to make Edwin uncomfortable, Charles would toss him out – via the door or the roof, he hadn’t quite decided yet. But, even though Edwin looked supremely awkward, nothing about his expression spoke of fear. Charles remembered him calling Monty his friend, and it wasn’t exactly like Edwin had loads of those. If Edwin wanted to give Monty another chance, Charles would go along with it.

But he was watching that fucker.

“Oh! Hello, Monty,” said Edwin, voice pitched a tad higher than usual. “What brings you here today?”

Monty barely looked at him, which was a bit rude. “I’m here because my good friend is in danger. I need your help.” He gestured with his head to the door, then led the way, back in. The rest of them traipsed after him. Charles tried not to roll his eyes too obviously. What was even the point of coming up here, if he was just going to say something dramatic and then leave again?

As they walked down the stairs, back to their temporary agency setup in Crystal’s room, Monty told them about his ghost friend, Gladys. He peppered it with strange compliments to Charles, just sarcastic enough to make his sincerity ambiguous. Charles chose to take it at face-value – for now, at least.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, throwing his arm around Monty’s shoulders and squeezing maybe a bit too hard. Charles couldn’t feel him tensing, but the way Monty’s jaw clenched told him more than enough. “See, Edwin? Everyone likes me eventually.”

Edwin’s smile was brittle, but he pivoted wordlessly and walked through Crystal’s door.

Charles didn’t like that, didn’t like how Edwin was giving Monty this opportunity and Monty was essentially spitting in his face, so when they got to talking about the case, he argued against it. Gladys sounded like a nice enough ghost, but they had other priorities at the moment.

Except – “Gladys was there for Monty at his most vulnerable,” Edwin said, “which is a lot like us, Charles.” The words couldn’t be more pointed. Out of the corner of his eye, Charles saw Monty flinch. “I believe in this instance, we can make an exception.”

Well, alright, if Edwin wanted to extend this awkwardness, it was his choice.

Niko left in pursuit of Jenny, but not before aiming a bright grin and a, “You look really nice!” at Edwin, who glanced behind him like there was any question who Niko was talking to. It was very cute. Charles checked him out, too. Solidarity, innit? He’d noticed the outfit when Edwin had manifested it earlier, but it was easy enough to appreciate again: the lack of a bow tie softening the line of his throat, the unbuttoned collar showing a tempting flash of clavicle, the soft teal jumper that brought out his eyes, the customary brown coat nicely familiar. Then again, Edwin had never looked anything less than really nice and usually averaged around breathtakingly handsome, in Charles’ expert opinion.

They reached the Tall Forest, and walked in to their possible doom. Crystal was clearly hiding something. Monty was making all these snide comments about Edwin. A perfect case, all in all. Honestly, did these two not know anything about professionalism?

It turned out Crystal had lost her powers. Charles couldn’t believe she’d hidden it from them, especially when it would’ve come out eventually. Besides, after she’d confessed about her and Niko’s kiss to him, he’d thought they were mates.

When it became clear they were looking at a ghost-specific threat and that he and Edwin should split up, Charles took Edwin aside. “You go and find out what’s going on with Crystal and her powers. Just… be gentle, yeah? I’ll handle the Monty thing.”

Edwin drew himself up. “I can –”

“– handle yourself? I know. Shouldn’t have to, though. Certainly not when he’s being a right git.”

“…Perhaps he will respond better to you.” Edwin sighed, his shoulders sinking. “Though if he says anything rude to you –”

“I know, I know, you’ll verbally eviscerate him. Again.” Charles caught one of Edwin’s gloved hands in his, pressing a kiss to where the brown leather stretched over his knuckles. “I love you. Don’t get ghost fungus-ed.”

He’d thought Edwin might argue against the use of ‘ghost fungus’ as a verb, but he just said, “I love you too, Charles.” His eyes were soft.

So Edwin and Crystal went one way, and Charles and Monty went the other. Unsurprisingly, uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. Charles wondered what the others were doing. Probably not talking about Crystal’s powers. Edwin might’ve climbed a tree already, knowing him. But Charles could only take the quiet so long before he had to break it. “D’you reckon –”

As if he’d been waiting for a sign to talk, Monty interrupted, sounding very fakely bored, “Let me guess, this is the part where you tell me that Edwin is yours, and I’m not allowed to even look at him.”

“What? No.” Charles frowned at him. “Why would I do that? Edwin and me don’t own each other.”

A strange expression passed over Monty’s face. But he only said, “Sure.”

“Listen, I know it’s tough fancying someone who doesn’t feel the same,” Charles told him, lengthening his strides to keep up with him.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Monty wheeled around to face him. “Edwin’s just another fling to you, and he’s so into you that he won’t let himself see it! God, you don’t even feel bad, stringing him along like this?”

Charles stared. “Right… My ten-year-long fling with Edwin.”

They stumbled to a halt. Monty was blinking rapidly. “What? You’ve been – you’ve been together for ten years?”

“Sure have, mate.”

“Okay, that’s pretty romantic,” Monty said, very begrudgingly, and they started walking again.

“There are plenty nice blokes out there,” Charles continued his earlier point. “You’ll snag someone quick, you’re definitely dishy enough, yeah? But being brassed off at Edwin isn’t going to help. He wants to be mates with you, which is a real feather in your cap, you know. Edwin has high standards.” He gave Monty a friendly nudge. “I meant what I said when we met, too. Edwin must like you for a reason. I wouldn’t mind finding out why, yeah?”

Monty looked away, but some of the tension dropped from his face. Quietly, he said, “Edwin was my first kiss.”

“Plenty more to be had, yeah?” Charles told him gently. “I mean, me and Edwin weren’t each other’s first kisses, and look at us now.”

Loud crashing started up ahead. Charles drew his cricket bat out and held it ready, stepping between Monty and whatever was coming. Two shapes careened into the clearing, and Charles nearly took Edwin’s head off before he realised it was just him and Crystal.

“What the bloody hell did you two do?” he demanded.

Crystal was bent over, still catching her breath, while Edwin only smoothed down his hair with a gloved hand. “Merely a demonic banishment spell.”

“A demonic – fuck, was it David the Demon?” Charles asked, giving Crystal a hand up and checking her over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Crystal gasped, and Charles realised she was breathless with a mix of laughter and tears. “He was fucking awful, as usual, but Edwin cast this spell that got rid of him. Don’t get a big head about it, Edwin, but that was amazing!”

“Thank you for your concern, Crystal,” Edwin said tersely. “However, I am uncertain how long it will hold him off. I do suggest we leave. Quickly.”

“Yeah, you know what,” Monty cut in, “I just remembered that, um, Gladys also likes sailing. So she might not even be in the forest. Maybe we should leave and start looking there.” He was nearly dragging them away by the end of it.

Edwin frowned. “Odd to recall that now. No, we cannot leave until the case is closed.”

“I really think we should leave,” Monty said, something desperate creeping into his voice. Charles and Edwin exchanged a glance. “Now.”

Both Crystal and Monty’s lanterns suddenly switched off, leaving them in total darkness. Then there was light again, in the form of a chandelier of all things, right in the middle of a forest. And standing there like the world’s most overdramatic tosser: the Cat King.

He said a bunch of things, mostly to Edwin, of course, though he seemed to take special joy in tormenting Monty. The kiss was just unnecessary, in Charles’ humble opinion. Then – “He’s luring you into a trap!”

Monty scoffed. “Like they would believe that.” But his eyes were darting between all their faces, and he shouldered past them like the only thing he wanted was to get away from the Cat King.

“Oh, so you’re not the witch’s pet bird?” the Cat King asked, voice dripping with fake concern. “No? She didn’t turn you into a boy?”

Charles remembered, Monty! Jesus! and felt sick. That Monty got so close to them, to Edwin…

“Sorry to break it to you, Edwin, but you kissed a crow.”

It all spilled out into the open: a witch’s revenge, a made-up ghost friend, fake feelings that became something more. Charles and Crystal could only watch it unfold, gaping. The worst part was the betrayal in Edwin’s eyes. Charles’ heart broke for him.

For the second time in as many hours, Monty turned tail and fled. The Cat King wasn’t nice enough to do the same, harping on about saving them, about what he was owed for it. As if he needed the help to sound more skeezy, when that shackle was still around Edwin’s wrist.

Edwin seemed to agree, displaying none of the almost drugged attraction from their first meeting. He went toe-to-toe with the Cat King and gave him a telling-off the likes of which Charles had never seen before. It would keep him warm for many a cold night to come, that was for sure.

The Cat King was still screaming when Charles and Crystal hurried past him and after Edwin. When they’d made it to a part of the forest far enough that it should be safe, Edwin paused, his fists and his jaw clenched. Charles wanted to bite the hinge of his jaw. He took the somewhat safer option of dragging Edwin into a deep kiss, basking in their closeness. Edwin made a muffled noise against his lips and grabbed at his elbows. When Charles drew away, it was only to ask, “How’re you even more fit when you stand up for yourself, huh?”

“What,” said Crystal. “What.”

Charles kept his hands on Edwin’s pink face, but turned his head to her. “What d’you mean, what? What’s it look like?”

“If you wish to officially join our agency, you should display better detective skills, Crystal,” Edwin said.

Crystal pointed between them. “You’re dating? What about Charles’ London girl?”

“London girl?” Edwin echoed, brows shooting up.

“There is no London girl!” Charles told them both, exasperated now. To Crystal: “I was always talking about Edwin, just didn’t want to out him, did I?” To Edwin: “I only said I was dating someone, love. Crystal was the one to assume, innit?” To Crystal, again: “Actually, I call Edwin ‘love’ all the time, you didn’t notice that?”

“I thought that was a British thing!” Crystal exclaimed.

Charles and Edwin exchanged a speaking glance. Crystal was going through a lot, after all. This once, they’d let it slide.

“Also, we still remember the part about Esther’s trap?” Crystal asked, and then they all went flying.

Esther had chosen her revenge well. Total obliteration by way of an interdimensional Elemental called Teeth Face. Still, Charles was next to Edwin, and that was all that mattered. No one could tear them apart now. With his last strength, he put his hand over Edwin’s and met his gaze. They would go into the next adventure the same way as always: together.

Except they didn’t die, and there was something new in Crystal’s eyes as she said, “I should go and tell Niko that I’m back to normal, kind of, so she’s not stressing.” It seemed she’d discovered more than just her ancestral powers, back in the Tall Forest. “I’ll be back.”

Charles gave her an encouraging grin. He just knew she and Niko would work it out.

“Charles?” said Edwin. The light from the windows behind him caressed lovingly over the planes of his face. Charles was almost jealous. Which was utter tosh, because he was the one who could step into Edwin’s space, like he’d been wanting to, and trace those same paths with his fingers. He was the one who got to see Edwin’s shadowed smile, the flash of teeth just for him, his lovely eyes bright. He was the one whose hands Edwin clasped, whose palms Edwin kissed and then lowered to dangle between them.

“Yeah, love?” Charles said after too long, his voice so adoring that, if he hadn’t long ago lost all capacity for embarrassment around loving Edwin, he would’ve been in serious trouble.

“I, um, find myself… It’s very unusual for me to –”

“Apologise?” Charles teased. “I know. I’m still gobsmacked at that one, love.”

“No, not that. Listen… I know I have been acting… somewhat strangely since our arrival in Port Townsend,” Edwin said, very hesitantly. “I did not wish to trouble you with it, but I suppose I owe you an explanation…”

“Oi. You don’t owe me anything,” Charles interrupted gently. He squeezed Edwin’s hands, swayed closer to him with a winning smile. “But if you’d like to tell me, I’ll listen, yeah?”

Edwin’s face relaxed into a soft smile. “I know you will.” He took a deep breath. “I suppose it was meeting the Cat King and Monty, and then receiving Niko and Crystal’s acceptance so easily, that did it. You must understand, being the way that we are… I always considered it as something that must be kept private, something that must be hidden away, lest the world punish us for it.”

Charles’ stomach dropped. “So, with us –”

“I… I do not know how much of my preference for privacy is my own, and how much is informed by this shame.” Edwin’s voice was devastated and devastating in equal measure. “Charles, I am so sorry.”

“God, love, what are you sorry for?” Charles asked, his eyes starting to burn. “I’m the idiot who didn’t notice for ten years!”

“Do not address yourself as such,” Edwin said, and now his voice was steel. Charles swallowed. “I am the one to conceal it from you. I am the one that forced you to hide our relationship all these years.”

“No, what? C’mon, Edwin, you didn’t force me to do anything.” Charles ducked his head, making sure their eyes met so that Edwin could see his sincerity. “I want to be with you in any way that you want, love, alright?”

“Thank you, Charles.” Edwin’s eyes were wet, but he smiled. “Still, I should not be… hm, opposed to exploring what it is that I want.” The curl of his accent around want made Charles shiver. Edwin’s smile widened. “However, I’ve been realising that I –”

A flash of light. A smug voice. “You’ve been realising that I was right!” And then everything went, quite spectacularly, to shit.

Crystal and Niko came running at the commotion, far too late. They were holding hands, which Charles would’ve been excited about if he wasn’t busy losing his mind, his every thought consumed by Edwin’s last, cut-off scream of his name. But Charles had Edwin’s notebook, and he could get him back.

He had to.

He wasn’t risking anyone else, though. He, Crystal, and Niko all huddled in the closet as Crystal argued to be included. Charles caught Niko’s gaze, and perfect understanding passed between them.

“Crystal, please,” Niko said, taking Crystal’s hand in both of hers.

“You have a long life ahead of you,” Charles said. “No way you’re losing that.”

Niko hesitated, but added, “If you’re going, so am I. Edwin is my friend, too.”

“No!” Crystal said immediately. “You can’t risk your life like that!”

“Neither of you are risking your lives,” Charles said, with all the authority he could muster. The clock was ticking while they argued, and Edwin was slipping further and further away from them. From him.

“I can’t just sit and wait,” Crystal said, barging out of the closet and to the door, shrugging off Niko’s reaching hand. “If you really won’t let me go, then I’ll find my own way to help.”

The door banged closed behind her. Niko flinched. Charles didn’t. He stood by what he said. He was doing this alone.

“Charles?” In the creepy dollhouse, Edwin was green-tinged and blood-soaked and vulnerable in his underthings. The most beautiful thing Charles had ever seen.

Charles grinned helplessly at the sight of him, struggling to walk to him and get his coat off at the same time. “Oh, love, I have –”

The same fucking demon. Again. Edwin screaming. Again. God, what was Charles even good for except standing there gaping, coat in one hand and lantern in the other, like an utter knob? At least finding Edwin the second time went faster, in the grand scheme of things.

Edwin was shivering and terrified and ferocious, grabbing Charles so fast that it felt like a trap. But it wasn’t, because this was Edwin. Charles would know the touch of his soul anywhere. And then there was his actual touch, his hand curled over Charles’ mouth to keep him quiet. The sensation of one innocent touch here was more intense than any other they’d ever shared, which matched what little Edwin had described of Hell. No good torturing people without them feeling pain, was it? But this wasn’t pain, just the soft brush of Edwin’s fingers against his lips. Charles just about passed out, although he was pretty sure that was the relief of seeing Edwin again. Mostly.

“You have to be very, very quiet,” Edwin breathed, both far too close and not close enough. It was a bad move on his part if he wanted Charles to be able to focus on literally anything else. “Charles, what are you doing here?”

Charles carefully lifted his own hand to Edwin’s, removing it and intertwining their fingers between them. He whispered, just as quietly, “I’m here to rescue you. Someone’s got to do it.” For the first time, he realised that Edwin looked different from when he’d first found him. He’d been too distracted by all the touching to notice. But both times, he’d felt Edwin… “Where’d all the blood go, love? You were covered in it.” It’d been the only horrifying part about seeing him, because ghosts didn’t bleed, not traditionally. Except in Hell, it seemed.

“That was the last me,” Edwin said. What? He turned his head, and Charles followed his gaze to the doll-spider-demon, lifting their lamp to reveal that it was tearing something apart. Tearing Edwin apart, even as Edwin sat next to him. There was a pile of discarded body parts next to it. Charles’ stomach turned. His eyes burnt with tears.

“Can’t we… can’t we save him?” Charles tried, even as he knew it was hopeless.

Evidently too loudly, because Edwin jumped to cover his mouth again. “No, it is too late. It is awful, I know it is awful, but we have to be quiet.” The light of their lamp caught on his tear tracks. Charles closed his eyes, because if he nodded his understanding, Edwin would let go of him, and Charles couldn’t deal with that right now. He needed Edwin close, needed the true warmth of his palm on Charles’ face, needed to know he was still here and not just hundreds of torn-up pieces under a demon. Edwin explained, “I run, and it catches me. It tears me apart and gnaws on me. Then it all starts again. Over and over. For decades. Over and over and over…” He ducked his head, crying in that quiet way of his that Charles now realised he’d had to learn here. His blood boiled at the thought. Edwin had left pieces of himself all over London, often undeservedly, because he cared so damn much. This horrid place didn’t deserve a single part of him.

It gave Charles new resolve. He pressed a comforting kiss to Edwin’s palm before shifting it from his mouth, then clasped his hands around Edwin’s beloved face. He tilted Edwin’s head up so that their gazes locked, and let every bit of sincerity shine in his eyes. “Hey, hey. Let’s get you out of here.” Charles would sacrifice himself to that demon before he let Edwin spend another second here.

“The moment I run, it’ll chase,” said Edwin, shuddering. “I can’t get away from it. I can’t.” He turned away from Charles, curling into himself and softly weeping. Charles knew Edwin was terrified, but his own hands flexed at the loss of him.

He wasn’t about to give up that easily, though. “Well, I’m here now.” He shuffled closer, settling his coat around Edwin’s shoulders. At first, it didn’t seem like Edwin even noticed. Then one pale hand crept up and clutched the collar closer to him. For the first time in his existence, Charles worried about whether ghosts could sweat. Hopefully his coat didn’t smell too awful. But Edwin would need both hands for them to make it out of here… well, not quite alive. Charles nudged his shoulder, guiding his arms into the sleeves, one by one.

Only then did Edwin protest. “No, your coat – When it catches me again –”

“It won’t,” Charles said, with confidence he didn’t quite feel. If it did, his coat was the last thing he’d worry about. “So…” Rooting through his backpack got him a perpetually lit flash bomb – the flame kept in stasis by the pocket dimension – that Charles kept around for… eventualities. Like this one. He held it out for Edwin to see. “Time for the old shill-and-dash play, innit?”

They met eyes over the light of it, and Charles watched with relief as some spark returned to Edwin’s eyes. He rolled the bomb to land under the demon just as the flame reached the end of the fuse, grabbed Edwin, and ran.

The rest was a terrifying blur – squeezing Edwin through the gap of the exit door (he really would stay here, if that was what it took to get Edwin out) and launching a Molotov cocktail to keep the demon at bay, the people gorging themselves and vomiting in Gluttony, a bloody orgy and Edwin’s frantic screaming in Lust, everyone frozen and in pain in Limbo, and then the stairway, stretching out in front of them. Charles ran until his non-existent lungs burnt, pushing Edwin ahead of him every time he flagged. It was close to the top, near the woman who’d grabbed Charles on his way in, that everything seemed to catch up to Edwin. He stuttered to a halt a few steps behind Charles. Charles still felt frenetic, so close to the door and freedom. Why did they have to stop now? What could Edwin possibly have to say that was so urgent?

It turned out to be, “I cannot believe you would risk your entire existence coming down to this operatic horror show for me. That is so fucking stupid, it’s unbelievable!” complete with one of those dramatic gestures of his that Charles loved so much. Edwin really was stupidly hot when he cursed, but Charles was pretty sure he’d get a look if he told him that now.

“Sorry, no version of this where I didn’t come get you, is there?” Charles said. It was as if Edwin didn’t even know him! He turned back so they could keep going, because this entire rescuing business was going too smoothly by far, never mind what Edwin said.

But Edwin grabbed his hand, and what could Charles do except turn around and look at him? “Wait, Charles.” Edwin stuttered, hesitant again, “Charles, I’m not mad, I… I’m… I’ve been hiding some things from you. And, since I might not get the chance to say them again –”

The only way he wouldn’t get another chance to say them was if they didn’t get out. “You can say whatever it is you want to say to me, if we keep moving, please.”

“I love you,” Edwin said, no longer hesitant, and their eyes caught and held.

Charles didn’t exactly understand the fuss. They’d said it before and would say it again. “Great, I love you too. Can we go?”

But Edwin didn’t go. Still holding Charles’ hand, wrapped in his coat, he said, “What would you have done, if you couldn’t get me out?”

What sort of question was that? “I told you, I’d come get you. I always will.” Charles frowned, darting his gaze over Edwin’s beloved face. “I’m not leaving without you, love.”

Edwin took a deep breath. “If fate denies us this privilege for my wife, one thing is certain: I do not want to go back either; triumph in the death of two.”

It took a second to remember. “Orpheus and Eurydice, innit?” St. Hilarion’s had still taught Latin in Charles’ time, and afterwards he and Edwin had taken turns reading Ovid’s works aloud. Charles could never forget the sound of Edwin’s gentle voice. The story was a fitting choice, too, about a bloke rescuing his lover from Hell. Except – “That one ends tragically, though.” Theirs wouldn’t. Theirs couldn’t.

Edwin waved it away as if it hardly mattered. “You, Charles Rowland, were wise enough not to bargain with gods. But gendered language aside, it is rather appropriate, don’t you think?”

Gendered language?

Orpheus hadn’t tried to save his lover from Hell. He’d tried to save his wife. “What –”

Edwin was standing a step below him, not down on one knee, but he was holding Charles’ hand with love in his eyes and he was saying, “My darling Charles.” His voice broke. “I wish to offer you marriage.”

The entire world ground to a halt. All the layers of Hell, down to Lucifer’s fiery wastelands, spiralling up this endless staircase and through the door, past Niko and the Night Nurse, into their reality. A stop-motion model, stopped. It was the only reason for Charles to freeze, for his breath to get caught halfway in his throat, his gaze to fix on Edwin. Because Edwin was the only thing that existed, wasn’t he? His serious eyebrows and bruised, shiny eyes, that little smile that was the brightest part of Hell, the contrast of Charles’ black coat and Edwin’s white skin, warmly lit like it was always meant to be.

“You don’t have to accept,” Edwin continued. A tear slipped down his left cheek. “I just need you to know.”

It wasn’t that the concept of ghost marriage was unheard of. The nature of ghosts was to meet people you never would’ve in your lifetime. Sometimes it took the shape of friendship, sometimes of romance. Sometimes it was family: an older ghost taking a younger one under their wing, two ghosts from wildly different eras declaring themselves siblings, or any of countless other unusual dynamics. Living laws were pretty useless to ghosts – lawyers didn’t tend to stick around after their deaths, for some reason – so these types of things were rarely official. But there were ghosts that wanted something more substantial than dating, and they were the ones that ended up in front of a ghost officiant; more for the ritual of it all than any legality. Charles and Edwin had met plenty of married ghost couples while out on cases. Even before they’d started dating – before Charles had realised all the ways in which he loved Edwin, even – Charles would look at those different souls finding each other only in death, who’d promised each other forever, and he’d think, Just like me and Edwin, innit?

He’d even spared it a thought himself, hadn’t he? Ten years was a long time to date. If they’d been together while living (in a kinder time, at least), people would have started making noises about them getting married long ago. What was the difference, anyway? Edwin was stuck with him either way.

That’d been before Port Townsend, though. Before all Charles’ hidden wounds got exposed, barely scabbed over and bleeding from the lightest touch, angry and inflamed after years of ignoring them.

Because the difference was his parents’ wedding photos, their bright smiles and the love in their eyes. It was his mum’s drawn face and her quiet presence in the mornings, more ghostly then than her dead son now. The ring she almost never took off, so that the skin under it was pale like a scar. She’d had a way of rubbing over it when she was nervous. When Charles’ dad found reasons for another belting, she’d stand there crying, hands over her mouth, and Charles’ eyes would catch on the glint on her finger. He remembered their one-sided arguments, his dad’s hand and claim both encircling her. Shackling her.

It wasn’t what marriage was, Charles knew now, for all it’d been the first example he’d seen. Edwin wasn’t his mum. He wasn’t his dad. But still the words stuck in his throat.

“Charles –” said Edwin, his smile starting to slip into despair, and Charles snapped right out of his spiral.

He had to let go of Edwin, but immediately slipped his hands under his coat to rest against the junction of Edwin’s neck and shoulders, his thumbs stroking gently along the length of Edwin’s collarbone. “I’m – Edwin, love, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to.” Edwin’s lovely smile had made its return, thank God. “I know this is hardly the time and place for it, but I simply – I want to. I want to ask you properly, if that is what you want, too.”

I do. The words were right there, but Charles couldn’t say them. “You, Edwin Payne, are my best mate, my partner, the love of my entire existence. That will never change. You are the most important person in the world to me. There’s no one – there’s no one else that I would go to Hell for. I can’t really say, right now, that, like, I want to marry you, but.” He swallowed. “Give me time? We’ve got literally forever either way, don’t we?”

Edwin reached out and wiped an unnoticed tear from Charles’ cheek. His own eyes were wet, but he smiled through it. “That was never in question, my love.”

From somewhere far too close, the demon shrieked. Charles watched all the joy drain from Edwin’s face and felt an answering flash of fury. No way was that fucker taking this from them. He grabbed Edwin’s hand in his and turned back to the glimmer of hope, so far above. “Run!”

They made it through in the nick of time, the Night Nurse slamming the door on the demon behind them. Charles turned his head to Edwin, basking in the sight of him: his hair neat and his face clean, back to wearing his usual amount of layers, except with Charles’ coat now in the place of his own, beautifully, gloriously dead and ghostly and here. God, but Charles could be happy forever in this moment.

Niko threw her arms around them both. “Oh my God! You’re both still dead and didn’t get trapped in Hell forever! I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but I was nervous that the crazy plan wouldn’t work.” It was so perfectly Niko. Charles was too wrung out to laugh, but he hugged her back as best he could with one arm, the other still desperately clinging to Edwin. She drew back, grinning. “I’ll get Crystal.”

At least that meant Crystal was safe, too. Charles helped Edwin up, hugged Crystal back with desperate force when she came in, and then the four of them faced the Night Nurse as a united front. She wanted to take them to the Lost & Found Department for processing. What else was new? But Charles’ bag was all out of tricks.

Instead it was Niko who saved them, who used the Night Nurse’s own knowledge against her, who fought for the state of their souls and won. Charles was mostly looking at Edwin in the aftermath, feeling exactly how close they’d come to losing each other permanently, but he still caught a glimpse of Crystal’s besotted face. There was, he thought fondly, absolutely no chance for her, was there?

Afterwards, Charles and Edwin retreated to their usual haunt on the rooftop, letting the girls have their moment. Charles settled on the ledge, but for once, Edwin didn’t join him. Sometimes it got like that, where Edwin wanted company without touch, and all Charles could do was to give him that. After the everything of Hell, it wasn’t exactly surprising. “Funny old life, innit?”

Ever contrary, Edwin replied, “Funny old death.”

Charles laughed. “Well, either way, we’re both still here.” If he craned his neck back, he could see Edwin standing a few metres away, watching him. They exchanged soft smiles.

But then Edwin became overly interested in the patterns he was tracing on the ledge. “Charles?” When Charles glanced over again, it was to find Edwin pivoting to face him directly, his expression all-too-serious. “I want to say I’m sorry if my offer created some –”

“It didn’t,” Charles interrupted before Edwin could finish that load of tosh. “Of course it didn’t.” Edwin continued watching him quietly, still so far away. Charles frowned. “Hang on, is that why you’re all the way over there?”

He half-expected Edwin to laugh it off, or to frown and explain that he would currently prefer not to be touched. Had been hoping for that, even. Instead, Edwin hesitated. It was as good as an answer. What did he think would happen? That Charles wouldn’t want him near, knowing that Edwin wanted to marry him?

Edwin wanted to marry him. God, that would never stop being mental.

“C’mere, love,” he said, and then, playing dirty, “please?” complete with widened eyes and a pout that he’d heard described before as extremely dangerous, do put those away, Charles. Edwin must have been as weak to the expression as ever, because he hardly protested before moving to sit at Charles’ side, comfortably close. Their shoulders brushed. Charles only noticed because he was so focused on Edwin. Fuck, he almost missed Hell.

Then Edwin took his hand in his and rested both of them in his lap, and it turned out Charles didn’t miss Hell, after all.

…Edwin covering Charles’ mouth with his hand might be worth revisiting, though.

But for now, Charles sighed and slouched more into Edwin’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. Edwin twisted closer, putting one arm around him and raising the other to his head, petting the short shaved parts where his fingers wouldn’t catch in Charles’ curls. Charles sighed again and did his best to melt into a puddle of ectoplasm. A voice in his head was screaming. He was still bringing the energy down, failing at his unofficial job. A not-so-quiet part of him felt guilty for all of this, for being so needy, for making Edwin take care of him when Edwin’d been the one to go through Hell. Edwin needed more than that. More than him.

Except that now other voices were drowning it out. His friends checking up on him, caring about him. Fiery Crystal, kind to her core; Niko, sweet and brave and knowing; Jenny, who couldn’t see them, but felt like an exasperated older sister anyway. And Edwin. You, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know. Edwin had spent the last few weeks seeing the absolute worst in Charles, getting every opportunity to leave him for something better, and yet he was still here. Edwin wanted to marry him.

So maybe… Charles was allowed a moment of comfort?

“You are thinking remarkably loudly, Charles,” Edwin murmured. His voice was quiet, but Charles was more than close enough to hear him. He loved the way Edwin said his name, the way that crisp accent softened around the syllables, like Edwin was savouring the taste of it on his tongue. It made Charles want to kiss him. Then again, Charles always wanted to kiss him. “What about?”

“You, ‘course. What else is there?”

Edwin scoffed, scratching at his scalp. Charles arched into it.

“I’m thinking about… y’know,” he continued, quieter and more serious. Edwin’s fingers froze. “Why it made me feel so scared and all that. Like, what’s the difference? Crystal was pretty bang on, calling us a married couple. We’re staying together forever and all that.”

“But it is different,” Edwin said. He was frowning slightly, more thoughtful than upset. “You raise some fair points, Charles, but there is a reason I offered to propose to you.”

“What, that wasn’t the proposal?”

“Good Lord, no!” Edwin’s face wasn’t visible, but Charles could hear the blush in his voice. “I rather thought that was obvious. I would not propose to you without your consent, Charles, nor would I do it on the steps of Hell whilst a demon is in pursuit. Also, I… I should like to give you a ring in such an event, and I haven’t had the chance to acquire one.” His voice trembled.

Charles leaned into him, softly kissing the side of his neck, stroking a hand up the other side and along Edwin’s jaw, feeling stubble prickle against his fingertips like a thousand tiny kisses. He waited until Edwin was settled again, then asked, “What’s your reason, then?”

Edwin’s jaw angled into his fingers; his throat vibrated against Charles’ lips. “Well, I rather enjoy the thought of introducing us as a married couple in truth. And…” He swallowed audibly. “And I must admit, I should like to call you my husband.”

It hurt like hell, but there was nothing for it: Charles drew away. Not far enough to break Edwin’s hold on him, though Edwin lowered his arms anyway, considerate lad that he was. Charles just kept his own hands on him, and eventually Edwin’s arms returned to where they were meant to be. It gave Charles the perfect view of Edwin, of his brilliant blush and neat hair and nervous eyes. How could he not kiss him? Edwin relaxed into him with a stifled noise, his arms perfectly positioned to clutch him close. Charles’ range of motion was limited, his elbows trapped between their chests – truly awful, that – but he cupped Edwin’s face as best he could, stroking his thumbs over the corners of Edwin’s mouth. Husband, he thought. He imagined saying it.

Fear rose in him like the tide.

But Charles Rowland had always been weak. He lingered in the kiss for another moment before gently retreating from Edwin’s lips. He stroked over Edwin’s cheek in apology. “I – I can’t. Not yet.” Then, desperate and not nearly enough: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” said Edwin, his eyes filled with soft, burning understanding. “Charles. My darling. I want it only if you do. What we are – what you are – is more than enough already.”

He wouldn’t ask, Charles realised. He’d never push it. If Charles’ answer was never, Edwin would take it. It was a dizzying thought. Maybe that was what made Charles say, “My mum and dad are married.” It sounded so stupid out loud. He huffed a laugh, darted his eyes up to the sky. “I mean. Obviously. But…”

Edwin stroked his hands down Charles’ arms, tangling their fingers between them. He had his listening face on. Bloody hell, what a time for Edwin to get a handle on his curiosity.

“You know how I said my dad hurt me? I’m – I’m pretty sure he hurt my mum, too. Like, not in front of me, usually, but there were always signs. And with me away at St. Hilarion’s for most of the year…” The floodgates were open, and now the water was beyond stopping. “Well. I’m always away now, and they’re still doing fine, so. Maybe not that last part.”

“You’ve visited them?” Edwin’s voice was as gentle as the brush of his thumb over Charles’ unbruised knuckles.

“Fuck, no! I’m too scared, innit?” It was ridiculous, because his dad was way past seventy, while Charles was forever sixteen and had spent the last three decades training with a magical cricket bat. A light haunting might be enough to do it. But the thought of visiting that poisonous house, even as a ghost… Somehow that was what finally did it: Charles sniffled, then brought his hand – and Edwin’s, by proxy – up to scrub roughly at his tears. Edwin wouldn’t let him, though, flipping their hands to take over, his fingers methodical and as careful with Charles as always. “Sorry, sorry, I’m – I didn’t want to get into it, ‘s why I never told you. But. I found out about this mirror trick a couple years back. How to show specific places or people, right.”

Edwin’s left eyebrow quirked, but he still didn’t ask. Charles could practically see him make a mental note to save the questions about the trick until after Charles finished his little outburst. Bloody hell, but Charles adored him.

“I’ve been, uh… checking up on them, ever since. On my mum, honestly.”

It was the worst part: the waiting. The thought of something actually happening – of his dad hurting his mum for reals – turned his stomach, but at least then Charles could help. Maybe there was a point where he should’ve given up, accepted that his mum was safe now that he was gone, stopped torturing himself with his parents’ happiness. Maybe they were long past that point. But in all honesty, Charles didn’t think he’d stop until his dad was in the ground.

Maybe not even then, if his dad decided he had unfinished business.

“That must be… rather difficult,” Edwin said, stilted, the type of diplomatic tone he brought out for their more emotional clients.

“It’s stupid, I know it is, you don’t have to tell me. Getting attached to the living – And as for the other thing, I know it’s not like marriage itself caused it, I know there are millions of happily married people, I know it doesn’t make that much difference, I know –”

“Charles.” Edwin’s voice, quiet as it was, cut through everything. Even Charles’ scattered thoughts went silent. It reminded him of a series of books they’d read a while back, where a character had a knife sharp enough to slice into different worlds – Charles could remember thinking how mint having one of those would be. Edwin’s voice was like that, as if he’d cut through to a world where everything was just a bit brighter. Charles could nearly feel the sunlight on his face. “It isn’t stupid, and I should hope you know I would never say or even think such a thing.” He sounded devastated, and Charles was overwhelmed beneath a flood of guilt: of course Edwin was too kind to do that. Did Charles still not know him, after all these years? Edwin’s client voice hadn’t been to distance himself from Charles’ emotions, but an attempt at keeping the focus off his own, so that Charles could talk without interruption.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Charles said frantically, because now there were tears in Edwin’s eyes, spilling over, and he’d fucked it all up, like he always did. He kissed over Edwin’s cheeks. Imagined salt on his lips. “Please don’t cry, love. I’m sorry, I’ll make it better. Please.”

“Do not be sorry,” Edwin said, his voice cracking. Charles thought of that powerful knife shattering. Hadn’t it been because the character had been distracted by thoughts of the person he loved? Funny, that. “Charles, I simply cannot bear it when you speak of yourself in that way. Please, for me –”

Oh, now Edwin was playing dirty. Didn’t mean Charles didn’t collapse like a particularly poorly-constructed house of cards, though, did it? “Of course, love,” he mumbled in-between kisses to Edwin’s bony knuckles, his long, elegant fingers. As intertwined as their hands were, he occasionally caught some friendly fire on his own fingers, but that just meant they were too close to distinguish. Charles liked the thought maybe a little too much. “Anything, you know that.”

Edwin tilted their foreheads together, brushing a finger along Charles’ jawline. His eyes fluttered shut, and the sweep of his lashes alone deserved an entire anthology of poems. “If you loved yourself half as well as I do, you would never say such things.”

The most terrifying thing was that Charles believed him.

“As for the matter of marriage – Charles, I… I do not pretend to understand completely, but I do know something of primarily witnessing less-than-ideal marriages. My own parents married because of social expectations, I am certain, and the circumstances of my birth were much the same. You’ll recall how negatively I felt about the concept of courting, never mind marriage, during my lifetime.”

Charles huffed a laugh, and got a small smile in return.

More seriously, Edwin continued: “I have had more than a century to come to terms with it, not to mention the chance to witness marriages that are wholly different from what they were then. You have not received the same.” His voice softened. “I must admit that Aysar and Sekani have been a great source of inspiration to me in this matter.”

That was definitely relatable. Aysar and Sekani were so good together, was the thing. Happy and comfortable and secure with each other, with their relationship. It was awful, but Charles had felt jealousy flare up more than once as he watched the way they moved together, because they got to get married while they were alive. He and Edwin never got the chance. Never would.

On the other hand, Aysar and Sekani had been married as ghosts longer than as living people. And yeah, if all marriages were like theirs, Charles couldn’t think of anything more brills.

“Take your time, darling,” Edwin told him. Charles closed his eyes. Nuzzled against him. “I will be there with you. Always.”

Of course, literal Hell couldn’t be the end of it, though. When had Port Townsend ever given them a break?

First, Crystal got her memories back, only to discover she’d been a terrible person all along. (Sorry, but no way was Charles buying that. Maybe she’d done a few bad things in her life, but Crystal Palace was good through and through.) She’d packed a bag and was on her way before they could convince her otherwise, and Charles had a sinking feeling about it. Crystal was handing out hugs like it was going out of fashion, and the last kiss she shared with Niko was far too tearful for a temporary goodbye.

Then Esther came in and blew up the fucking butcher shop, like that was in any way a normal thing to do. Charles and Edwin were stripped down to their base forms and stuck in Esther’s cage, but at least they were still together. Who knew what happened to Niko and Jenny?

Esther separated them soon enough, of course, with Charles in an iron collar, Edwin out of his reach and screaming. It was almost worse than Hell. But this time they had Crystal and Niko and even Monty, coming through at the last.

One snake death later, Charles was there to see Crystal smack an Esther who actually looked her age, and then Lilith dragging her away kicking and screaming. He stayed only long enough to savour the image, before running to where he’d heard Edwin’s screams last. Edwin was pale and wispy and looking way too similar to back in Hell, all his attention fixated on where Crystal was crouching over – Niko. She was covered in blood. Charles’ heart sank.

Then Niko coughed and opened her eyes, groaning. “Ow.”

“Niko!” Charles, Crystal, and Edwin somehow all called out simultaneously. Charles helped a still unsteady Edwin over to her.

“Oh my God, Niko,” Crystal was saying, clutching Niko close and uncaring of the blood staining her clothes. “I thought we lost you!”

“I did consider jumping in front of you, but I thought we had a better chance of surviving if I pushed you away, instead,” Niko confessed. “Her spell caught me on the side, though. Ow!” The last part was said when Charles reached over to press down on her wound.

“Sorry,” Charles said. “But we have to keep you from losing more blood until we get you to the hospital. You’re going to make it, Niko. You just faced down an immortal witch, yeah? Blood loss isn’t gonna be the thing to take you out.”

That seemed to snap Edwin out of his daze. “Charles is correct. Western medicine is not too bad these days, overall. They’ll fix you right up.”

“Someone else press on her wound. I have supplies in my backpack to stop the worst of it,” Charles said. Edwin and Crystal exchanged a glance, and then Crystal sat at Niko’s head, stroking her hair and quietly talking to distract her from the pain, while Edwin took over at the wound itself. Charles felt carefully around in his backpack, quickly locating the few supplies he kept around in case of the living getting hurt. Lucky thing he’d stocked up when Crystal joined them.

Charles went through the half-remembered motions of his first-aid training back in school: pushing Niko’s shirt out of the way, giving Edwin a piece of gauze to press down on the wound, cutting a length of bandage, tying the gauze in place. He was relieved to see the spread of blood already slowing. The dressing was holding up, then.

“How are we getting to the hospital?” Crystal demanded. “I can’t carry her, and neither can you two! Should I call Jenny? God, what am I even going to tell the hospital?!”

“Just say it was a mugging gone wrong,” Charles suggested.

“Call Jenny,” Edwin said with familiar authority. “Her vehicle will get Niko to the hospital much faster than attempting it by foot.”

Crystal nodded and dialled on her mobile. “…Jenny? Listen, Niko needs to go to the hospital. Can you come pick us up at Esther Finch’s house?”

Charles didn’t need to be close to hear the string of profanity coming through the tinny speakers. But a few minutes later – much faster than speed limits should allow – Jenny pretty much kicked the door down on her way to them. “Where’s Esther? Actually, I don’t want to know. Give me Niko and let’s go.” Niko barely reacted to being lifted, except for a pained sound escaping her. Jenny carried her easily, and Crystal trailed after them, holding onto Niko’s dangling hand with tears in her eyes.

“She’ll be fine, love,” Charles told Edwin with more certainty than he felt. “Crystal and Jenny will make sure of it.”

Edwin stared at his hands, covered in red blood and wisps of blue. He was back in his drawers, the sight of which Charles was unfortunately starting to hate. Charles rooted around in his backpack to where he’d stashed his coat, a few hours and a lifetime ago, and draped it around Edwin. That looked better. Hopefully it provided Edwin some comfort. “You alright?”

“I kept seeing flashes of being sacrificed,” Edwin said faintly, even as he clutched the coat close. “That wasn’t even the most painful part of my existence, so why…?”

“You’re out,” Charles said, firm. “You escaped Hell, then and now, and you’re never going to be at Esther Finch’s mercy again.”

Edwin looked at him, and something in his gaze sharpened. “Charles, your throat – your torso –”

The scorched ring from the iron collar was old news, but Charles glanced down to see blue energy bleed from two points on his stomach. “Oh, right. The snake was magical, innit?”

Edwin reached out to him immediately. Charles melted into his embrace, for all that his throat screamed at him, and felt Edwin soften in return. They’d survived. They’d all survived, somehow, and that was all that mattered. Charles clung to the relief of it just as desperately as he clung to Edwin. “Hey, we made it, we’re okay.”

“Let us leave,” Edwin said eventually, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “I have no desire to linger here.”

“Sounds aces, love,” Charles agreed, helping Edwin up. They were almost through the door before he remembered. “Wait – Monty!”

There was a squawk, the sound of wings, and then Monty landed on Charles’ shoulder.

Edwin frowned at him. “Monty betrayed us, in case you don’t recall.”

“He also helped me save you,” Charles argued. “I’m not saying we take him with us, but he doesn’t deserve to stay trapped in this house.” As if in agreement, Monty waited until they made it off the front porch to take wing and disappear into the falling night. Charles looked at Edwin, and Edwin looked back. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

The week that followed was completely mental, between Niko healing up in the hospital and Jenny dealing with the destruction of her life’s work. At least after Crystal had got over her little self-sacrificial moment, she was very willing to help in cleaning up the remnants of the shop. Charles did what he could to give a hand, mirror-hopping over to Port Townsend at least once a day – when he could bear to tear himself away from Edwin, that was.

They hadn’t talked about the marriage thing again. There was time for that. But Edwin had kept his word about figuring out what he wanted in their relationship. On the public side, he was less insistent about keeping things strictly professional. They made no secret of their relationship to anyone who asked. Charles stopped limiting his touches in front of other people. Sometimes they’d even hold hands during cases, and it gave Charles a thrill every time. Crystal obviously knew about them, but the first time they’d kissed in front of Niko, she’d squealed with delight, her heartbeat monitor going berserk enough that a nurse came running. Jenny, on the other hand, didn’t seem surprised at all. Maybe knowledge of the supernatural outweighed two dead boys in love. Or maybe Jenny was just smarter than all of them.

On the personal side… Well. Edwin had always been opinionated, sure, but he wasn’t usually the one to bring new things to the table. Charles had just thought it was a lack of knowledge. And maybe it was, but Edwin was certainly making up for it now. Who knew which was more to blame, academic research or Niko’s mangas? Charles definitely formed part of the process, which, knowing Edwin’s feelings about research, was pretty flattering. Edwin had spent a night or two simply exploring every part of Charles with single-minded focus, looking a bit like he wanted to whip out his notebook and write down his observations. It was unbearably sweet and unbearably hot, all at once. Sometimes it felt like the last ten years had just been the lead-up to this.

“There you are,” Charles said, stepping into their warmly-lit office from the mirror, his eyes finding Edwin immediately.

“Where else should I be?”

“I was just helping Crystal and Jenny clean up the shop.” Charles let his voice go slightly suggestive, knowing Edwin would see right through it. Edwin was doing important work, holding down the fort and all. ‘Least, that’s what he said. “It was a big job, that. They missed you.”

“I find that dubious,” Edwin replied, more focused on their caseboard than Charles, which was just not on.

Charles loped over to stand right behind him, hooking his chin over Edwin’s shoulder and grasping his hips. Not that Edwin was going anywhere, but it gave Charles an excuse to hold him, now didn’t it? “Believe it or not, love, you’re properly missable. Y’know, I left them halfway through the tidy-up.” He gave Edwin’s neck a friendly nibble. Just to provide further evidence, of course. Edwin swatted at him.

“Delivery!” came the shout they could never quite get used to. The Ghost Postman raised his eyebrows at the sight of them. “Would it kill ya to be decent when the post arrives?”

Edwin pulled away from Charles’ hands to collect their mail, but he looked more annoyed than embarrassed. “If we were provided with any sort of forewarning…” he said testily.

“Come off it, mate, you’ve seen far worse,” Charles told the Ghost Postman. “Where do you even come from?”

The Postman just stared, like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “The Dead Letter Office!” Then he chuckled and left. Another of death’s little mysteries, that one.

Edwin was holding a couple of letters and a box. “Some new cases, a pamphlet for that new magic marketplace, and – oh! A letter from Aysar and Sekani.” He smiled, holding it up for Charles to see.

Charles grinned back. “Brills! We haven’t seen them in ages. When the others get here, we have to introduce them. D’you reckon Aysar and Sekani’ll like them?”

“Of course they will, Charles,” Edwin told him fondly. He transferred his attention to the box. “But who on earth would send us a box?”

The answer, unfortunately, was the all-too-tenacious Lost & Found Department.

But one tense conversation with the Night Nurse and her superior later, and all the Dead Boy Detective Agency ended up with was a semi-official stamp of approval and a new minder (not a chaperone – they’d been doing perfectly well without one for a decade now, thanks) that had just stormed out of their office in a huff. For a moment, all Charles and Edwin could do was bask in relief. Charles turned to watch Edwin, admiring the loose line of his shoulders and the way that, for once, he had no next move planned – until Edwin mirrored him and their gazes locked. Their bodies were two magnets snapping together after being kept apart for too long, always straining to reach each other. Charles clutched at Edwin with the desperation he couldn’t quite keep from overflowing. Not for the first time, he wished ghosts could just… fuse together. Or possess each other, now that the Lost & Found Department was off their case. Charles wasn’t picky.

“Not going back to Hell, are you, love?” he mumbled into Edwin’s neck. His lips smeared against the soft skin with each word. Then, when it really sank in: “You’re never going back to Hell.” This wasn’t Edwin escaping from Hell in the traditional sense, but it still counted. Three times, now. All the stories harped on about threes, didn’t they? It had power.

It had to.

Edwin shifted, pushing Charles away only to pull him right back in, their foreheads resting together. Charles grinned at him. Edwin brushed his fingers along the hinge of Charles’ jaw and said, very quietly, “What an unexpected relief.”

And then they were kissing. It was a desperate thing from the start, and only got filthier from there. Edwin thumbed Charles’ mouth open, the flick of his tongue – as elegant as everything Edwin did – downright lethal to the state of Charles’ knees. For Charles’ part, he clung to Edwin’s shirt with one hand, felt him up with the other, and kissed back with all he had. He’d spent his life priding himself on his snogging abilities, but Edwin… Fuck. Sometimes Charles thought it was for the best he was a ghost already, because Edwin was bloody well dangerous for his health.

Charles didn’t even notice them moving until he suddenly found himself horizontal, sprawled out on their couch. It was a bit small for two strapping lads, but Charles had never minded being close to Edwin, now had he? Their room, including a proper bed, was just one phaseable wall away, but the fact that Edwin was too distracted to move there was insanely hot. Charles managed to fit one bent leg on the couch, let the other dangle off the side, and folded his arms behind his head. Edwin’s gaze lingered on his biceps. The invitation in Charles’ cheeky smile was accepted, Edwin setting a casually proprietary hand on Charles’ stomach and gracefully seating himself in his lap, thighs spread around Charles’ hips. It gave Charles the perfect view of his ruffled hair and bright eyes and slow, toothy smile. God, he wanted those teeth on every part of him.

Edwin stroked teasing fingertips over Charles’ throat, following the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I like this,” he said, his voice rough. His eyes were slightly too dark to pass off as pure scientific curiosity. He shifted purposefully in Charles’ lap.

Later, Charles could pinpoint that as the exact moment he lost his mind. “I want to,” he babbled; then, scared Edwin would get the wrong idea, “not right now, though, but one day, yeah? I want to. I do.”

Edwin drew away, which was the last thing Charles wanted, and he looked concerned, which was even worse. “Charles? If you are not in the mood, we need not –” He started to get off of Charles.

“Nah, nah, nah.” Charles held onto Edwin’s thighs to keep him close. “That’s not what I meant.”

“If you are certain, darling,” Edwin said dubiously, but settled back in. He even tipped forward to kiss Charles again, hands petting over his chest and stomach, then slipping slowly under his polo. Charles stroked up Edwin’s legs to his shoulder blades, then back down again. “What was your intended meaning, then?”

Charles’ brain, pleasantly fuzzy from the snogging, focused in on what he’d said that led to this. “Oh, I, uh…” Phantom warmth rushed to his face. He wanted to hide from Edwin, but it was far too late for that. Besides, it would mean having to stop touching Edwin, and Charles wasn’t that strong. “Just. One day, I want to marry you, yeah?” In a moment of doubt, he added, “If you still –”

– want me, he didn’t get to finish, because Edwin was kissing him like they’d been apart decades instead of seconds, like he’d been lost in a desert and Charles’ mouth was sweet water, like the world could end around them and he wouldn’t even notice it. Not that Charles would, either. Maybe the sparks on the back of his eyelids were the signs of the apocalypse. Or maybe they were just the stars Edwin always made him see.

“I do,” said Edwin when he finally pulled back for breath, and his smile was brighter than the birth of the universe.

An astonishingly brief amount of time later, Edwin and Charles took the short way to Port Townsend, then accompanied Niko, Crystal, and Jenny the long way back to London, all of them there to stay. Crystal had always planned to return, of course, but had at last overcome her ridiculous martyr complex. After Niko’s near-miss (blood, too much blood, Edwin had last seen such quantities in Hell but if Niko were destroyed, she would not return), her mother had only been too happy for her to move to London, perhaps in sheer relief that Niko was resuming contact with her. Edwin certainly hoped it wasn’t with the belief that London was significantly safer than Port Townsend. No matter; they would all do their level best to keep Niko safe. He could also understand Niko’s wish to remain with Crystal, with their relationship so new and exciting. Why, Edwin had hardly wished to separate from Charles for a second at the start of their own. He had been somewhat ashamed of his obvious ardour at the time, but hindsight showed that Charles had been equally – if not more – eager. Love of any kind should not be a source of shame.

It was a rather freeing thought.

Both Niko and Crystal would be joining the agency, given that they had logged so many hours of fieldwork. (It was only for Niko’s sake that Edwin agreed to rebrand to the Dead Boy & Alive Girl Detective Agency, sign pending.) Niko’s impeccable reading comprehension would be invaluable to their researching phase, and, very well, Crystal’s particular skill set might lend itself to the trickier investigations. It was jarring to realise how dependent Edwin and Charles had grown on their help after only a few short weeks. These girls were powerful in their own right, not least for shaking Edwin and Charles out of decades-long patterns and into something far better.

Jenny, on the other hand, refused further involvement with the agency, which was certainly a valid choice. Her ‘hard maybe’ to relocating to London had quickly transformed to begrudging agreement, especially after learning about Niko’s plans. For all Jenny’s bluster, she cared for her two ex-tenants too much to abandon them in London without her cynical advice and copious cleavers. Charles and Crystal’s description of London’s ‘queer scene’ did not seem to hurt, either. Niko had already been barred from matchmaking, though, which Edwin found quite hurtful on her behalf. Her attempts thus far had been… rather unsuccessful, that was true, but it provided her with such joy.

After discovering his own inclinations a decade ago, Edwin had done the research: the theory, the history, the stories of people similar to him and Charles. He had wept to see his own feelings written on a page (for so long, books had been the only evidence he would place his trust in), to read through the lives of people who did not resemble him and yet did, to learn that the history extended past what he could ever have imagined. And yet he could never agree to attend the gatherings Charles told him of. Charles had nothing but praise for the people involved, but it was Charles, who could befriend a brick wall if given enough time. Edwin could never quite escape the fear that the people in those circles – of whom a tragic amount could see ghosts, according to Charles – would deem him unworthy of the privilege; that he would once more be the stranger in the midst of a like-minded crowd, judged and ostracised for it.

But now, having seen the wide range of experiences and how they could form a person, having been befriended and accepted and loved by those similar to him, those ancient fears paled in comparison. Perhaps it was time to overcome them. Edwin would mention it to Charles the next time such a gathering occurred.

For all Edwin’s protestations, he truly did not mind travelling the long way back. The aeroplane was crowded and difficult to navigate without accidentally passing through a living person, true, but there were many hidden spaces for two ghosts, and the view was rather spectacular. Charles mentioned some club called Mile High with a wiggle of his eyebrows, but thoroughly distracted Edwin before he could enquire more. An aerial appreciation club, possibly.

He and Charles gave Niko, Crystal, and Jenny some time to settle in – rather more time than Edwin thought was necessary, but very well – and Charles even volunteered the both of them to help out, whether it was moving Niko and Crystal’s belongings to their new rooms, across the hall from the agency’s office, or the interior decoration for Jenny’s new butcher shop, a healthy distance away from what she called their ‘crazy’. If she wanted to deprive herself of supernatural clients with a need for animal meat, that was her prerogative. She was assisted by insurance money from her original shop (Niko had read through every line of Jenny’s contract until she found the loophole that ensured Jenny cover for the complete destruction of her shop), as well as Crystal’s parents’ unknowing help. When matters had stabilised somewhat, Edwin and Charles gathered the three of them to tell them, “There’s someone we want you to meet.”

Ghosts were not inclined to eat dinner, and so they were forced to first visit a shop with the goal of acquiring food for their living members. The average Londoner would only see Niko, Crystal, and Jenny, so Edwin and Charles kept each other company as they walked. Edwin paid such attention to the conversation that he hardly noticed a light touch to his hand. If it had been anyone except Charles, he might not have noticed at all. As it was, Edwin glanced down to see it was indeed Charles causing their fingers to brush, then glanced up to see that it was in no way accidental, as evidenced by Charles’ coy smile. It meant rather a lot, how accommodating Charles had always been, and still was, with Edwin’s boundaries, but there was no need for it now. They were amongst friends. Edwin took Charles’ hand in his with no more hesitation, revelling in Charles’ pleased smile. Charles’ gloves were of marvellous design, Edwin had always thought, providing complete coverage until the back of the hand was reached, where dark leather gave way to soft brown skin and pronounced tendons. Edwin pressed a tender kiss to that tempting flash of skin, then lowered their clasped hands to dangle between them. By the end of it, Charles’ smile could outshine every star in the galaxy.

From behind them, Crystal could be heard making a noise of complaint. “You guys are old. And so sickeningly sweet that I’m getting cavities.” Her annoyed tone was betrayed by an undeniably fond undercurrent.

“No, don’t say that, Crystal!” Niko said with a rather effective pleading expression. Perhaps she and Charles should compare notes. “It’s so cute.” She watched them, starry-eyed, appearing one demonstration of affection away from buying a similar pair of gloves for herself. Edwin wished Crystal Godspeed in that case.

Jenny, who was walking at the front, made an uncouth sound. “If these two are old, I must be past ancient, huh? Gee, thanks, Crystal.”

“Hey, what year were you born in, Jenny?” Charles asked, his attention shifting enough that Edwin could once more breathe. It was rather a shame, when he had no need of it.

“Let me think – oh yeah, 19-none-of-your-business.” Jenny turned her head enough to show her scathing glare. “What the fuck do you need to know it for?”

“Please, Jenny?” Niko asked, that pleading expression making its triumphant return.

“Ugh, fine, 1988. What does it matter?”

“Huh,” said Charles. His smile was distinctly mischievous. “I reckon I’m fifteen years older than you, then.”

Jenny’s outraged spluttering made him and Niko burst out in laughter. Edwin took the opportunity to tell Crystal, “I find your homophobia appalling, Crystal. Please know that our agency has strict anti-discrimination rules.”

“Well, too bad. I don’t hate gay people, Edwin, just you.” They exchanged false smiles that concealed real mirth. “Back me up, Niko?”

Niko nodded rapidly. “Yeah, I can confirm that Crystal loves gay people.” She winked at her girlfriend. It was pleasant to see her confident side begin to emerge. She turned her gaze back to Edwin and Charles, telling Charles sincerely, “I am so sorry for the Monty thing. If I’d known you and Edwin were together, I would never have done it!”

It was a rather Niko-esque method for clearing the air, but better than letting it fester – as Edwin had so recently discovered. He himself winced at the reminder of the matter and what grief it had led to. Niko was so supportive of Edwin that he simply wished to support her endeavours in turn. His meetings with Monty had made her happy, and were innocent enough that Edwin had foreseen no problems. If anything, he’d been somewhat pathetically grateful to make another friend, having so few of those, that he never even considered ulterior motives.

“Oh,” said Charles, blinking his widened brown eyes for a second before plastering a smile over it all. “S’alright, Niko! No harm done, now was it?” Edwin cleared his throat delicately. Charles wrinkled his nose at him, but amended his words to: “I mean, I was a bit brassed off about it, but that’s on me. Shouldn’t’ve kept it to myself. Happy, love?”

“Ecstatic,” Edwin replied drily.

It wasn’t much of an improvement, in truth, but Edwin knew expressing negative emotions cost Charles dearly. He kept a pace closer to Charles than usual, their shoulders brushing with every step, his presence the best comfort he could offer. Even thirty-five years together did not mind-readers make, especially when Charles was doing his utmost to hide from him, so there was an element of truth to his words. Edwin could not know the full extent of the problem before Charles told him. But he knew the warning signs, now.

“Well, I won’t do anything like that again, anyway,” Niko said placidly. “And I’ll fight off anyone who tries to come between you!”

Looking at her, Edwin did not doubt it.

Charles chuckled, a true smile gracing his face. “Cheers, Niko, that means a lot.” His shoulder pressed solidly against Edwin’s; his fingers clasped Edwin’s hand. “Oi! We’re here!”

“Huh,” said Crystal, staring at the small house. “This is it? Not to be mean, but –”

“– it looks fucking awful,” Jenny finished, punctuated by a disdainful flick of her eyebrows.

“It looks like a haunted house!” Niko said, in a distinctly different tone.

Edwin smiled at her. “A good deduction, Niko. That is exactly what it is.”

It did look rather poorly: paint flaking from the walls, the windows and doors boarded up, the garden completely overgrown. Edwin was unused to this view of it, since he and Charles usually travelled via mirror. After nearly a decade of unsuccessful attempts to sell the house, it was hardly surprising that the appearance should be somewhat unkempt.

But it was not the exterior that mattered.

Edwin and Charles phased through the front door out of habit, then had to turn back to grant the others entry. The interior was warmly lit and as beautifully decorated as ever, showing no signs of the exterior’s neglect. Niko, Crystal, and Jenny’s astounded expressions at the sight of it were certainly amusing.

Two ghosts appeared in the doorway that led to the living room, one smiling enough to light up his entire face, the other with a quietly amused quirk at the corner of his lips.

“Welcome,” said Aysar, sweeping his gaze over them all, his smile only fully forming when he’d ascertained everyone’s safety. He was always concerned when Edwin and Charles took dangerous cases, even needlessly so, but Edwin could hardly fault him for his caution.

“You must be the boys’ new friends?” Sekani asked, still grinning. “We’ve heard so much about all of you!”

Jenny groaned in what seemed to be paradoxical relief. “Actual adults. Thank fuck.”

There was a flurry of introductions and embraces. Edwin kept well out of those, instead watching as Charles gave Aysar a gentle hug, then took a running leap at a laughing Sekani, who caught him and spun him around, as he always did. When Sekani had passed away a few short years after Aysar’s death, Edwin and Charles had expected to say their final goodbyes to Aysar. Instead, both of them decided to linger a little longer, and days had turned to months had turned to years without their passing on. For now, Edwin thought it safe to assume that would not soon change. It had been pleasant to become acquainted with Sekani, especially after bearing witness to Aysar’s grief at his loss. Most importantly, after an official introduction, Charles and Sekani got along famously – to absolutely no one’s surprise.

“Just to be clear,” said Crystal, after they had all situated themselves around the table in a facsimile of dinner, despite the majority of participants being unable to eat. Pointing her fork between Aysar and Charles, she asked, “You two were dating in school?” Niko rested her chin on her hands, to all appearances very interested in the proceedings.

A quick glance was exchanged between Edwin, Charles, Aysar, Sekani, even the comparatively young Jenny. What bittersweet joy, that the children of today could not begin to imagine a lack of the acceptance they had been granted. “Something like that,” Aysar said carefully. “He saved my life.”

From his seat to Edwin’s left, Charles sighed. The colour high on his exquisite cheekbones betrayed his front of exasperation. “It’s been over thirty years, can we stop with the –”

“No,” said Edwin, Sekani, and Aysar in unison.

“That’s so romantic!” Niko gushed. She held Crystal’s left hand in her right, and had begun mindlessly playing with Crystal’s rings. This left Crystal without the use of both her hands for eating, but by the look of her besotted smile, she hardly minded. “Did you become boyfriends afterwards?”

That caused a collective wince, though Edwin could hardly fault Niko for her curiosity. Sekani put his arm around Aysar, drawing him close in comfort. For his part, Edwin clutched Charles’ right hand in both of his – hidden under the table until he realised how ridiculous he was being, and drew their hands against his heart, as he had originally wished to do. Charles gave him a private smile, then broke the slightly tense silence: “Nah, we got together before that, didn’t we?”

Aysar smiled sadly and said, “The first time we really met, I was innocently walking through St. Hilarion’s library –”

“– Oi, you always blame me for this, no fair –”

“– when a boy, who I’d only seen glimpses of in my classes and as he defended me from bullies, absolutely crashed into me…”

The story flowed from there, filled with laughter and interruptions, and into the next story: how Edwin and Charles had met. Edwin played his customary trick of a dry recounting, keeping one eye on Charles as he vibrated in his chair until unable to keep himself from taking over the telling of it. Aysar aimed an amused glance at Edwin for it, as he always did. Then Sekani told his and Aysar’s story; a chance meeting that bloomed into close friendship and, eventually, careful love. It enchanted Edwin, no matter how many times he heard it. He glanced longingly at Charles’ left hand, the ring finger beautiful but bare. One day, Charles had said.

More and more stories joined the river of recollection: Niko’s reminiscence of her father, her life in the States, her complex feelings regarding her grief. Crystal’s ancestral powers and regained memories and the person she still hoped to become. Jenny’s life story, accompanied by much profanity and rolling eyes, yet willingly shared with them. Edwin and Charles recounted some of their more entertaining cases, over the years. Aysar and Sekani described all the holiday trips they finally had the chance to take, in between haunting their house whenever another realtor showed a tad too much interest. Niko and Crystal had a spirited discussion about their academic future, which Edwin supported but could contribute little to (despite his best efforts). Jenny begrudgingly explained her plans for her new butcher shop, which she, very unoriginally, wanted to name Tongue & Tail.

By the time the conversation began to trail off, the living taking to yawning as if wishing to unhinge their jaws, night had long fallen. They were secured against it in this house, the curtains drawn to keep in the warm light – although Edwin supposed a glimpse of it would only add to the legends of restless spirits inhabiting this abode.

It was also, to his expert eye, the moment when everyone least expected shocking news. He and Charles shared a glance, the knowledge passing wordlessly between them. Edwin nodded slightly, smothering his smile with unusual effort. Charles straightened out of his slouch, although his fingers and feet remained intertwined with Edwin. “Oi,” he interrupted the quiet conversations, dreadfully uncouth. “Me and Edwin have something to tell you all.” Curious eyes blinked from every direction. Charles took a deep, unnecessary breath, smiled lopsidedly, and asked, “Aysar, mate, if I got married, would you mind being the one giving me away?”

Utter silence.

Then the table exploded into chatter. At least three hands lunged for Charles’ left hand, only to exclaim in disappointment at the lack of a ring.

“No ring?” Crystal asked with a grin. “C’mon, Edwin, that’s just cheap.”

Edwin’s face warmed. “I simply have not had the chance to obtain one –”

“Leave off, Crystal,” Charles said, his eyes still bright with laughter. “He hasn’t asked yet, I’m just preparing for it!” He turned, his eyebrows rising. “How about it, mate?”

Aysar had been quiet all along, which Edwin now saw was due to his hand, clamped over his mouth. He was quietly weeping, and Edwin spent a moment worrying before the hand dropped to reveal a brilliant smile. “Of course,” Aysar said, too soft, then stronger, “of course I would give you away. I’d love to.” He phased straight through the table to appear at Charles’ side, embracing him before Charles had the chance to get a word out, saying something too quietly for Edwin to hear. Charles only laughed and returned the embrace.

Edwin cleared his throat, needlessly straightening his cuffs. “Now that that is handled. Would you be willing to play such a role on my behalf, Sekani?” He glanced at the continuous embrace taking place next to him. “Without the embrace, perhaps.”

Sekani had his own teary smile in place, but he heeded Edwin’s request, only reaching out to give Edwin’s hand a gentle press. “I would be honoured, Edwin.”

“Thank you,” Edwin said, feeling emotion tighten its grip on his throat. He had believed that Sekani would not reject his request, but having it confirmed was vastly different. Better to get all the emotions over now. He turned to his right, where Niko sat and watched the proceedings as avidly as if it were one of her charming shows, and told her, “I believe there is another role traditionally involved. As you are one of my best friends, Niko, would you be willing to be my best woman?”

It was a delight to see Niko’s realisation give way to joy. She jumped in her seat, clapping her hands and squealing, “Yes, yes, yes!” Edwin could only resist her smile for a second before giving in, holding a hand out to her, then using it to draw her into a soft embrace.

“Oh, Niko gets hugs, I see how it is,” Crystal complained, her smile betraying her.

Charles’ head appeared over Aysar’s shoulder. “You asked already, love? You’re going too fast!” He turned to Crystal. “Well, the surprise is ruined, but how about it?”

Perhaps Edwin had overestimated Crystal’s emotional control, because now her eyes filled with tears. “Yeah,” she said, “yeah, I think I could do that.” Niko drew away from Edwin to put her arms around Crystal, kissing her sweetly.

“I’ve read a lot of stories where the best man and maid of honour hook up at the wedding,” Niko said, in what she perhaps thought was a whisper. “It should be the same with two best women, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” said Crystal, with a besotted smile.

“That’s sweet,” said Jenny, whom Edwin had somewhat forgotten. “It’s really, really nice for all of you. I’ll just… be in the shop as usual, then.”

Edwin glanced at Charles. Charles glanced at Edwin. “Well, there’s always the flower girl, innit?”

fin.