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The cookie analogy may have been the first and only time I would've picked Angel over Spike. Of course I came to my senses when Spike made the drawing of Angel for his punching bag.

And Helena and Maysem...more fluff. Loads of fluff. I make myself sick.

15: i'll believe in anything


Two Months Later

"Hey, what's Jack Nicholson's character's name in Chinatown?" Charly asks, stretching her legs across Justin's lap. He turns his head, looking at her with a distracted smile, his eyes flitting back to the football game.

"Uh...hold on I'll look it up," he murmurs, pulling his laptop open. He hoists her feet closer to his stomach, leaning forward.

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon in Charly's apartment, the kind that would brand Justin a married old man but he doesn't mind it in the least bit. He's a little jet-lagged, having just arrived from Los Angeles, but he could do the coffee and crossword puzzle thing with this girl for a while, he thinks.

"NO! What're you, fucking obtuse? That's cheating!"

That is, unless she drives him crazy first. "How's that any different from you asking me for the answer?"

"It's a good thing you're so pretty because clearly, logic or any kind of intellect, not really your thing. It's completely different."

"Give me one reason."

"Well, for one, you're not Google."

"Okay you do know that Google's not like, a robot, right? There are people who work there and find this shit. It's not magic. Both ways are cheating, so if you wanna be all honest and shit about it, do it yourself, woman."

"I am! You're not made of answers y'know, despite how much that head of yours wants to believe it. The internet is like...infinite knowledge. This isn't cheating...this is me, asking my...special man friend, to help me out."

"Your special man friend? Like 'I like eating paint chips' special?"

"Shut up, you know what I meant."

"Hardly ever."

"I hate you," Charly laughs, grabbing a throw pillow and swinging it at his head. He catches her wrist easily, tugging her closer to breathe a kiss against her mouth. "Stop," she whines, though her tone contradicts the words.

She pushes him back and the timing is impeccable because Dylan bounds into the living room, pudgy fingers clutching a brochure. Jumping onto the couch, she situates herself between Justin and Charly, completely oblivious. "Momma, can we go? There are dinosaurs!"

Charly eyes the museum pamphlet, flipping through it absently. "You got all your stuff ready for school Monday?"

"Yup!" Dylan smiles proudly.

"Pencils?"

"Uh huh."

"Notebook?"

"The purple one!"

"Bong?" Justin pipes up, receiving an amused glare from Charly.

"What's that?" Dylan asks, confused.

"Oh...uh..." he trails off, feeling his neck grow hot. Turning to Charly for some help, he finds her offering none. Instead she kind of looks like she's getting some perverse pleasure out of the whole situation and now, more than ever, he wishes he had just kept his mouth shut. "Charly--"

"Oh no, no, please, explain to my five year old what a bong is, would you? These are important life lessons for her, wouldn't want them to go to waste."

"I hate you," he grumbles, sinking into the couch sheepishly.

><><<br />
Justin steps into Rob's office, the sleep deprivation catching up with him and contributing to his irritation. He can't quite figure out what's so important that it begs his attention on a weekend, but he's long since stopped trying to argue his way out of meetings with Rob.

"Don't you have a wife or something? Fuck," he mutters, flopping down into a chair closest across from Rob's desk.

"She's in the Hamptons and hello to you, too." Rob raises a disinterested eyebrow, gaze fixed on something in his hands.

"It's Saturday. I just got in. I figured you know, maybe you'd chill out til' at least Monday morning."

"This couldn't wait."

"Apparently not."

"How's Charly?"

Justin's head snaps up at the question, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He has a general policy of keeping his private life to himself, even more so after the mess with Avery, and unless it's absolutely pertinent Rob knows better than to ask him for details. But the part of this that worries him isn't any of this; it's the fact there's nothing as far as Rob knows to warrant such a question.

Something gnaws at his gut and he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees, all of a sudden tapping an impatient, staccato rhythm against the floor. "Why?"

Rob lays a few select photographs on the table, allowing Justin a side by side comparison. "Because in about two days, I'm going to have every crap and legit rag in the city asking me when you turned into Ward Cleaver."

Most of the pictures are from their last day in Tennessee when he'd decided to take Charly and Dylan to the County Fair. Inherently, they're innocent enough, with Dylan dragging them along by a hand each. But with the kind of scrutiny they'll undoubtedly be given, he knows this could get very ugly very quickly. "She was there to help me out with some work stuff."

They both know it's a lie, but the nervousness in Justin's voice forces Rob to forego the lecture he'd normally give him. "Okay..." he drawls out. "What do you want me to say? I have to say something."

"I just...fuck," Justin rakes a hand through his hair, working his lower lip between the teeth. "She's five years old, man, and Charly didn't...they didn't ask for this."

"Comes with the job."

"She works for you, not for me, it shouldn't come with the goddamn job."

"It was your choice to bring her out there."

"Yeah, thanks, I got that." He moves to stand, pacing the room, trying to find some way to rectify the situation though he knows it's a lost cause at this point.

"If something's going on between the two of you, then I need to know because at that point, you need to get them some security detail in case this blows up."

"Can we buy them out?"

"You think this guy wouldn't make copies?" Rob shakes his head, sighing. He doesn't have the time nor the patience to clean up the mess this will inevitably turn into. Some guilt nags at his conscience, because he isn't stupid and doesn't assume Charly and Justin are completely platonic, but the other ramifications of this scenario are the least of his concerns at the moment. "Listen, I'll put in a few calls, explain that she was just down there subbing for Rachel. That's the best I can do--some way or another, these are gonna leak. Your best bet is to hope she doesn't look at this shit."

"She doesn't," Justin says quietly. "But I'll put some detail on them, just in case."

"I think that would be wise."

"Yeah," he nods. "Yeah. Rob can you...fuck, can you just...give me a couple days, don't say anything to her because she's gonna flip if this isn't...handled right. I'll tell her, I just need a few days."

"Sure."

><><<br />
"He's gay. I'm just...I'm completely convinced," Charly huffs, tossing an Oreo into her mouth. "I mean...I'm like, hey look, here's me, here's the silver platter, and he's all 'you're my squirrel' blah fucking blah."

"You need to chill the fuck out," Lauren laughs, reaching for a cookie. "It's sweet."

"It's lame."

"And besides, this is the first time you've really seen him since then...technically you haven't even had the second date yet. What're you gonna do, screw him on the couch while Dylan's rocking out to CCR in her room?"

"Okay, no, but we were supposed to go out and he calls me while we were at the museum and something came up, so he's going to call me 'sometime' tonight. Like, what's 'sometime'? I have a five year old, I need windows, a vague 'sometime' doesn't work with my schedule."

"Hi, I'm parked here all night and I told you I'd watch D. What do you care what time it is?"

"Because then I know how to plan."

"Plan WHAT? Naked time?"

"If it ever came to that, yes. Busy my ass," Charly grumbles. "Unless busy's code for blue ball hell, in which case...good."

"You are so bad at this."

"And by default you're supposed to be on my side no matter how irrational I'm being, so we both suck. Oreos and ice cream it is."

"Amen to that."

"Quit hogging them, cooze. One of us is gonna look like Mel Brooks soon and I'd prefer it to be me, thanks."

"I'd prefer it to be you too, come to think of it," Lauren wrinkles her nose in disgust, handing the tray over to her.

The buzzer sounds and a stupid, childish glee fills Charly's stomach. She glances over at Lauren, who just rolls her eyes.

"Oh just answer it already, you freak."

She all but jumps off the couch, opening the door and letting herself outside. Peering down, she smiles when she spots Justin, then frowns slightly as she sees a bodyguard standing behind him. "Are you that scared of this neighborhood, you wuss?"

Justin looks up, grinning, trying to suppress the anxiousness in his head. It's a little easier being able to physically see her as opposed to imagining all the ways she'll murder him in his head. For now, she looks happy to see him.

For now.

"I got commodities to protect!" He calls up, laughing as she sticks a finger down her throat, gagging. "Lemme up!"

"The monkey!"

"Oh, shit. Right." He appears in front of the door a few minutes later, shivering a little from the outside air, uncharacteristically cold tonight. "Might wanna grab a jacket."

"I thought you were gonna call, I would've at least had time to put real clothes on." Charly steps aside to allow him and the bodyguard entrance.

"Hey Lauren, how's it goin'?"

"What's up, Wonderbread?" Lauren asks, distracted by the television.

"You look fine," Justin assures. "Nothin' fancy, I just figured we'd catch a movie...hence the traffic."

"Hence?" Charly smirks, reaching for a discarded sweatshirt that's hanging on the counter. "Learning new words?"

"Shut up and hurry up, otherwise no popcorn for you." He kisses her square on the mouth. "Oreos?"

"Best cookie ever." Charly takes him by the hand, escorting him outside. "Laur, if she wakes up--"

"Just GO already, god, pain in my ass."

"Oh, and just so you know," she stops short outside the door, almost running straight into him. "I can buy my own fucking popcorn."

He leans into her, his lips a breath away from her ear. "Yeah, but it tastes better when I do it for ya."

"I hate you," she hisses through a smile, closing the door behind them.

I crush on James M but not Spike. Don't ask me how that works.

I knew you were insane.

And okay, we're nearing the end of fluff...but there's still a boatload here.


Sixteen

"You fell asleep. I can't even--how--you fell asleep!" Justin shakes his head with a disbelieving laugh.

Charly mumbles something he can't decipher into his chest, nuzzling her face into his sweatshirt, only half conscious even now. "I did not. You're paranoid."

He still can't fathom how, during a movie littered with action sequences, she managed to fall asleep.

"You were snoring."

At this, her head snaps up and she shoots him a tired glare. "I do not snore."

"Oh, you snore, woman. Felt like I was in an episode of Hee-Haw." He tugs at her hair, breathing a kiss against her forehead.

"I'm officially a bad influence on you. And stop smelling my hair." Charly elbows him sharply in the ribs.

"Can I start calling you Peaches?"

"That depends, how much do you value your limbs?"

"Touchy, touchy." Justin smirks, pulling at her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. The car slows to a stop outside his hotel, where a crowd of photographers are swarming. "Shit."

"What?" Charly mumbles, sinking lower into the seat. "What is that?"

"Sir, could you circle around to the back entrance please?" he asks, mild panic in his tone. The conversation he had hoped to save for a later, calmer moment suddenly springs up, unwilling to allow him the few moments of solitude required for such an occasion. He looks down at Charly, who yanks the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head, shielding her eyes from the flashes. "I'm really, really sorry about this."

"Apparently you are famous," she mutters, a dry laugh leaving her throat.

"Charly, listen--"

"I'm not mad at you. Besides, the windows are tinted."

"Oh. Well that's not what I--"

"Can't we just climb up the fire escape?"

He searches her expression for some kind of proof that she's joking and not entirely without a shred of sanity, but finds none. "Well, firstly, it's the Four Seasons, so there IS no fire escape. And secondly, I don't think the whole 'sneaking in' thing works if I'm dangling off the side of a building and you're staring down laughing at me."

"I wouldn't laugh!" Charly protests, biting her lip to keep from smiling. She giggles quietly when Justin raises an eyebrow. "Okay, I would, a little, but then I'd be seriously helpful!"

"Right." He looks past her at the scene that crowds the back entrance and the scenario looks dismal at best. "Fucking Christ."

"Can't we just use the employee entrance?" she asks.

"The what?"

"The employee entrance--by the kitchen or the bar whatever, that big fancy place where they make the food and the drinks that magically appear in your room in the form of the room service guy is in fact, not made by tiny little woodland creatures in a magical forest just for you."

"Alright, smartass. Anything to shut you up." Justin leans forward again. "Sir, the employee entrance please. Thanks."

><><<br />
"You took a picture with them to get us free dinner, that is so--" Charly stops as he opens the door to his room, all traces of coherent thought leaving her brain at the sight in front of her.

The place is littered with candles and she can hear some Al Green song she hasn't heard in years playing quietly through the speakers. Flowers are scattered along the floor and it's all very old school, completely cliched romance, the likes of which she's accustomed to mocking but more importantly, the kind she's never experienced in person.

"I know the flowers are overkill but--well I just like them, so don't laugh or make fun and keep all those witty little retorts to yourself for just tonight, alright?" Justin's voice comes out a little shaky, giving his nerves away. He knows he has a tendency to get extravagant with these things, but the majority of the time he can at least guarantee that the girl in question is more than appreciative of it. This time, he isn't so sure and is, perhaps, a little too vulnerable.

"I don't have any. It's not funny. It's...it's extremely the opposite of funny. It's unfunny," she breathes, jumping a little as he sets a gentle hand on the small of her back.

"You do realize you just said funny three times in under a minute, right?" he smiles, leaning down to kiss her.

"Why did you do this?" she says against his mouth, leaning into him.

"Cause I wanted to. Besides, I'd already bribed Lauren to watch Dylan for the night, so..." he trails off with a laugh. "And I do, you know. Love you, that is."

There it is. That same statement she ignored the first time hangs in the air thickly, once more, and it's all Charly can do not to panic. She pulls him down by the collar, her mouth on his, all the desperation and anxiety in her body spilling over into this, the only way she has ever known to not think about it.

They stumble back towards the bed, hands tugging off clothes at a frantic pace, him trying to slow down, her trying to hurry up, and if one is aware of the other's motives they choose not to say anything.

Justin crashes on top of her, his bare torso meeting hers as he kicks his jeans off to the floor. He guides his lips to her neck, leaving kisses along her collarbone, easing down her bra strap. With his free hand he laces his fingers with hers, pushing her arms above her head. Something catches his eye and he frowns as he spies a greenish bruise marring her ribcage. "How'd you get this?"

Charly takes a second to catch her breath, tugging at his boxers frantically, a fleeting thought of Rob passing through her brain. "What is this, twenty questions? I don't know, I probably ran into something."

"Oh," he murmurs, seemingly placated but something in his features tells her otherwise as he moves his mouth there, leaving a lingering, delicate kiss against her ribcage.

She closes her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy this, just long enough until his lips close over the skin below her stomach. "Wait, wait..." she shakes her head as his hand runs up her thigh.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Justin stops, looking up at her, genuinely concerned.

And maybe that's it--that all of this is, on his part, genuine and kind and all the things she isn't at all prepared for. She feels out of her element, uncomfortable because she doesn't know how to do this part, emotion attached, properly. The only times she has are so far in the past the memory is blurred. Her mind flashes back to Rob, to everybody before Rob, to all the hotel rooms without music and candles and flowers. To the cheaper hotel rooms. To the motels with fluorescent lighting and shitty, unwashed sheets. To the cash left on the bedside table.

All she can think is that she's a liar, Justin isn't and that same anxiousness gnaws at her gut, leaving her disgusted. "What do you...what do you like? What do you want me to do?" So she resorts to the mechanics of it.

Justin shifts so his face hovers above hers, beautifully confused. "I'm not in a rush, baby. Just...relax...are you sure you're okay? Do you want to sto--"

"No I don't want to stop I just want to fucking get this over with already, goddamn." As soon as the words leave her mouth his weight is off her, yanking his shorts back over his hips.

"That's real fuckin' charming. What the hell?"

"Okay, back up, I just...I don't understand why you did this. The whole set up and the asking Lauren watch Dylan before I did and the whole...planned out...everything."

"It's not a game, Charly, or a race to the finish." Justin eases himself off the bed, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I wanted it to be...nice."

"I get that--" she starts.

"No, you don't fucking get it because you don't think about it. You think about you, all the fucking time it's about you and I know, you said you'd be bad at this and I've been patient about that but come ON already! This is ridiculous. Is it such a foreign concept that maybe I just wanted to do this properly? Maybe I don't wanna fuck you on a swing set outside my elementary school like I'm sixteen and you're some whore I'm tryin' to hide from my Momma. But shit, maybe we should do it that way and call it a day since this, clearly not what you're into. And it can't ever be about the both of us, right. So fuck it, let's go, you wanna just hop into the stairwell and I can lay you down right there?"

Charly reaches for her top and slides it over her head, fumbling around awkwardly as she looks for her pants. "I should go."

"Yeah, probably."

><><<br />
"Momma, why are you making that face?" Dylan scrunches her nose from the bathtub, splashing around.

Charly looks up from her place on the sink, absently flipping through a magazine. "What face is that, sugar?"

Dylan attempts an imitation, drawing her lower lip out into a giant pout and furrowing her eyebrows together. "That face. Is it cause J kissed you?"

"You saw that, huh? Sorry." Charly laughs as a little excess water spills over the tub and onto her feet.

"It's okay," Dylan shrugs, grabbing a bar of soap too big for her hands and scrubbing diligently at her arms. "I don't kiss my boyfriend, because it's gross, but you're old so you're allowed."

"And who is this non-kissing boyfriend and why haven't I met him yet?"

"You met Walter. And his momma, remember, at school?"

"Ah, yes, Walter. He's very handsome, has that whole young Cary Grant thing going on for him. How'd you meet?"

"I pushed him in the dirt on the playground because he pulled my hair. But then he bought me a ring pop."

"Hey Charlie Brown, how do you want your steak?" A voice calls out from the kitchen.

"Charred!" she shouts back, eyes widening when she hears the doorbell ring. "I'll get that!" She shifts her attention to Dylan, pointing at her suspiciously. "You, don't drown."

Making her way out of the bathroom, she crosses through the living room quickly, opening the door. There isn't anybody in front of her, but a white handkerchief tied to a stick waves fanatically in the air. Charly lets herself outside, closing the door behind her and attempts a small smile as Justin pulls himself away from the wall.

"Hi." He says softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I came to apologize. And I brought a present."

"What is that?" She laughs as he wheels out an IV drip from somewhere behind him.

"It is an IV, filled with coffee beans, see?" He taps the bag for proof. "They're real coffee beans too!"

The gesture warms her heart in ways she doesn't expect it to, that he remembers some throwaway comment she made what seems like years ago. "Thank you. And I'm really, really sorry about last night, that's not how I meant...I just freaked a little, when you said--"

"That I love you," he supplies knowingly.

"Yes, when you said that thing you said and keep saying, thank you," she sighs, shaking her head. "I'm just...I'm not there yet. And this is still all new and confusing and I'm incompetent at dealing with it or doing it the right way but I'm sorry if it comes across like I don't give a shit about anything but me, because that isn't the case. I do care. And I'll try harder to show that unless you've figured out that I'm clinically insane, in which case well, good for you."

"C'mere," Justin tugs her forward by her shirt. "I didn't ask you to be there yet. And I get that...it's overwhelming for you, it took me a minute, but I get it. As for the clinically insane, I knew that the second I met you." He leans down to kiss her, wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her closer.

The door swings open and Justin jerks back, an unfamiliar male face grinning at him. "Sorry, man, wow...uh...Charly, food's ready and Dylan was pruning so I pulled her out of the tub."

Charly removes herself from Justin's embrace, eyeing him as his face falls. "Drew, this is--"

"Yeah, I know who he is." Drew laughs.

"Justin, this is Drew, Dylan's dad," she pauses. "Want to come in for dinner?"

I think that would be my number one don't ever say right before you're about to have sex with someone But...sometimes the brain and the mouth don't work so well together, pesky buggers.




Charly leans against the door frame, playing nervously with the knob as Drew bends down, scooping Dylan up in his arms. "See you next week, kiddo."

"You promise?" she asks, her voice a little unsure.

Justin hangs back, hands shoved in his pockets, as silent as he's been all evening. Whenever Charly manages to catch his gaze he looks away, his jaw clenched, only speaking if he's spoken to and more often than not it comes out in short, monosyllabic bursts.

"Pinky swear," Drew says, hooking her little finger with his and Charly can't help but smile. He pulls himself to his feet and heads towards the door. "So...I'll come by next week?"

Charly nods. "Thursday, after 6. I have to pick her up from the sitter's on my home from work."

"I can--"

"I'll do it."

"You're the boss."

She shuts the door behind him as he goes, a little hesitant to turn around.

"So that's your ex?" Justin asks, folding his arms across his chest, his stance rigid.

"Dylan, bedtime." Charly takes her by the hand, leading her past the living room. She stops, setting a hand on Justin's arm. "Just...give me five minutes, okay?"

"Fine," he mutters, kneeling to drop a kiss onto Dylan's forehead. "Night, trouble."

"Night J...feel better!" Dylan throws her arms around his neck before disappearing from view.

Charly returns a few minutes later, tugging anxiously on the hem of her shirt. Justin sits on the edge of one of the counter stools, scratching the back of his neck in irritation. "You're mad."

"I'm fine," he snaps, cracking his knuckles. "That was a nice little ambush on your part."

"Ambush? You showed up here at random, I'm not all-knowing Justin and trust me, there are about a thousand different ways I've gone through in my head of how to have that conversation with you and hey, not my ideal scenario tonight either but you could have at least pretended to be civil!" Charly shakes her head, too tired to get into this now. This is a much longer discussion and she knows she's withholding a big part of her history from him but she doesn't have the energy to do it tonight.

"You've barely fu--" he stops, eyeing Dylan's bedroom down the hall. "You barely ever mentioned the guy and what, he's Daddy of the Year now?"

"Listen, Drew's not Ward Cleaver, alright? But he's trying and...Dylan's just as much his--"

"Oh bullshit."

"You know what? I don't have to explain this to you. This has NOTHING to do with you and me. And last time I checked, we don't make mutual decisions as to what's best for MY kid. Drew's her dad and as long as he's trying to get his shit together, which he has been for a good eight months now, then he can see her as much as she wants to see him. Besides that it's not like I'm letting him take her on vacations...for fuck's sake he comes and sits here for a couple hours once a week."

"He's a deadbeat," Justin spits out, fuming for reasons he doesn't even completely understand. What he does know is that Drew's presence irks him on a fundamental level, and it may be petty or juvenile on his part, but he isn't capable of recognizing it at this point.

"You got all that from glaring at him for two hours? Wow, Tony Robbins should really hand over the self-help crown, shit." Charly laughs, reaching forward, reaching her thumb up to trace his bottom lip which is pulled between his teeth, frantically chewing. "What are you so worried about, huh?"

You've got the best of both worlds
You're the kind of girl who can take down a man
And lift him back up again

He grabs her wrist, pushing her away from him. Standing, he all of a sudden needs to put some kind of physical distance between them, his own insecurities and mistrusts springing up full force. "Woulda been nice to know he's been around, Charly. I'm not big on the element of surprise and you sneaking around--"

"I wasn't trying to be all stealthy cloak and dagger girl, Justin. When he first called, you and I weren't exactly extra chatty with each other and then you weren't here and he started coming to see Dylan about two months ago. He's been good about it, and her, and I have to put my shit aside to do what's good for her. Which it is, and I'm happy to tell you the whole Sid and Nancy fairy tale of me and Drew, but it has nothing to do with what's going on now so you can stop acting like such a little brat about it and get the accusing tone out of your voice cause it's not cute anymore."

You are strong but you're needy
Humble but you're greedy
Based on your body language
And shoddy cursive I've been reading
Your style is quite selective
But your mind is rather reckless
Well I guess it just suggests
That this is what happiness is

Justin slips on his jacket, a dry laugh leaving his throat. "It's just real fuckin' curious that in two months, it never once came up with you. Puts things into perspective, at least."

"And that means what, exactly? I'm not doing so well reading into cryptic and vague tonight, help me out," Charly pulls on his coat, trying to hold him back.

"I don't have time. I've got an early flight I need to catch. Let go of my coat, Charly." He stares down at her hand.

She lets go, holding her hands up in defeat. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong here."

"Well, there's half your problem." Justin says, letting himself out of the apartment.

Hey, what a beautiful mess this is
It's like picking up trash in dresses

Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write
Kind of turn themselves into knives
And don't mind my nerve you could call it fiction
Cause I like being submerged in your contradictions, dear
'Cause here we are, here we are

><><<br />
One Month Later

"You talk to him?" Drew asks over a bowl of cereal.

"No. And we, as in you and me, are not having this conversation," Charly says, wiping some excess milk from Dylan's chin. "Okay, going over this again, you're going to take her to the museum and then the park and bring her straight back here, right?"

"For the fiftieth time, yes, I've got it. It's been three months, would some tiny little flicker of faith be too much to ask for?"

"Yes."

"Nice. He didn't like me."

"Nobody really likes you Drew," Lauren strolls into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl as she goes. "Get used to it. I'll be home 'round ten." And she's out the door.

"I like you, Daddy," Dylan grins, mimicking the way he holds his spoon between his middle and ring finger, in the process knocking the bowl over on herself.

"Dylan..." Charly sighs, reaching for a roll of paper towels.

"Maybe you should go see him, leave Dylan with me for the weekend."

"Maybe you should look for that tiny part of your brain where some semblance of sanity's still intact." Charly pauses, standing to throw away the soggy towels. "Go change, baby."

Akthough you are biased I love your advice
Your comebacks they're quick
And probably have to do with your insecurities
There's no shame in being crazy,
Depending on how you take these
Words, I'm paraphrasing
This relationship we're staging

And what a beautiful mess this is
It's like picking up trash in dresses

Dylan hops off the counter, scurrying towards her room.

"I'm serious," Drew eyes her once the child is out of sight. "C'mon, Charly. Does he know?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you should tell him. Clean slate and all."

"Yeah, sure, why not? Hey Justin, wanna take a big fat look at my past resume? That'll go over well." Charly rolls her eyes, wiping down the counter with a sponge.

"Maybe phrase it a little differently," Drew smiles, setting a hand on hers. "First, stop doing the compulsive cleaning thing."

She drops the sponge, sucking in a breath. "It's not like you and me...it's...functional...which is a whole different kind of dysfunction and I can't do it, I can't tell him all of--the way he looked at me that night you were here, Drew..." she trails off.

"Everybody's got their shit, Charlie Brown," he shrugs. "Give him a shot to deal with it. It's never gonna work if you don't."

"Yeah."

"Maybe give me a shot with Dylan, while you're at it."

"I'll think about it," Charly relents as Dylan re-appears, newly dressed in a tutu. "It's October, try again shithead."

><><<br />
Charly knocks on the large wooden door, her stomach in knots, so much so that she finds herself holding her breath just to ensure she won't vomit on the welcome mat. A few minutes pass and she hears the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. The door swings open, creaking loudly as it does so and she exhales slowly at the sight of him.

Justin blinks slightly, his eyes red with the remnants of sleep. His hair is completely disheveled, a mess of curls and he's wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts slung low on his hips. She looks down at the floor to avoid blatantly staring, shuffling her feet, mentally marking the stains on her sneakers

"Charly?" he croaks out groggily. "Time is it?"

"Ten. PM. LA time anyway, New York I guess it's one now, which would make sense for the whole sleeping bear look you've got going but ten your time just makes you an old man."

"Long day," Justin mumbles, clearing his throat. "What're you doing here?"

"You're an asshole."

Well it kind of hurts
When the kind of words you say
Kind of turn theselves into blades
Kind and courteous is the life I've heard
But it's nice to say that we played in the dirt oh dear
Cause here we are, here we are
We're still here
What a beautiful mess this is
It's like taking a guess
When the only answer is yes

"And hello to you too, fuck." He rubs a tired hand over his face.

"No, you don't get to do that because I just sat on a plane for six hours--"

"To come tell me I'm an asshole? Coulda just called."

"All you had to do was ask. About Drew, and I would have told you--and I should've and fucking Christ, I'm sorry that I didn't because if I'd known you were gonna go channel your inner suspicious psycho, I would have brought it up sooner, but I didn't because I didn't know we--you and me we...would--that I would...so I fucked up, fine. People do that, they fuck up and do stupid shit but sometimes it's not just to hurt you, you know. You get into these...these situations that it's hard to get yourself out of, even if you want to, and it's not about you. You have to--you have to make decisions, maybe it's not completely Sophie's Choice shit, but it's hard, and...and it hurts, and it doesn't mean you don't give a rat's ass. That I don't, or that I would ever intentionally...fuck, I'm an idiot. I'm the crazy idiot girl and you're an asshole and this is just..." Charly shakes her head, panting, fighting back the sting in her eyes.

"C'mere," Justin says, quietly, reaching for her wrist.

"I told you this was a bad idea and you wouldn't leave it and now I'm doing that whole grand gesture thing but I just look certifiable and you're--" Before she can finish, he covers her mouth with his own, pulling her against him.

He sets a hand behind her neck, curling his fingers around her hair, his fingers trailing absently along her neck. Justin steps back for a second, dropping a quick kiss on her nose, reaching with his free hand to brush the hair out of her face. "You're a mess."

"All your fault," she half-jokes, a small smile evident in her features.

"I kinda like it," he grins, wincing when she lands a sloppy punch against his shoulder. "I take it back. How long you here?"

"Just til' Sunday."

"Well get in the house, crazy girl."

And through timeless words
And priceless pictures
We'll fly like birds not of this earth
And tides they turn and hearts disfigure
But that's no concern when we're wounded together
And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts
But it's nice today, oh, the wait was so worth it

Song "A Beautiful Mess" - Jason Mraz

Justin hands Charly a plate. She smiles at him from her place on the kitchen counter, wrapping her legs around his waist. He presses a kiss to her forehead, briefly rubbing his nose against hers. "You really didn't have to make me a sandwich," she says softly, biting into the grilled cheese.

He sets a hand on either side of the counter, palms down, gripping the edge to brace himself. "You're the only woman on the planet I've seen eat more than me, so yeah, kinda did."

"I get the sneaking suspicion I've just been insulted, somehow," she pauses, practically inhaling the rest of the sandwich. "Oh well."

Justin laughs at the sight of her, mouth full of food. "Charming."

"Hepburn ain't got nothin' on me."

"Which one?"

"Do you know the difference?"

He hangs his head shamefully. Charly sets the plate down somewhere behind her, her arms going around his neck. "It's okay, I'm still here, right?"

Justin grins brightly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "This is true," he pauses, his expression sobering. "Listen, I didn't know you were coming otherwise I woulda...I have some meetings in the morning and this party thing to go to tomorrow night and--"

"Relax. I'm pretty self-entertaining, you know. More often than not I AM the entertainment. Entertainment is me."

He leans forward, arms going around her waist as he buries his face in her neck. "I'm glad you're here...and about the shit I said about Drew and you..." But he doesn't have time to finish the thought as she pulls back to face him, brushing her lips against his. And any coherent thought he might have had slips away as she kisses him, her lips soft and teasing and he sighs against her mouth, having missed this.

His hands slip under the hem of her shirt, fingers shaking a little with nerves as he isn't entirely sure how she'll react but she doesn't protest, her own hands dancing across his bare torso, nails dragging gently across his back. He lets out a low growl as she bites his lower lip playfully, her tongue slipping into his mouth. "Charly wait..." he stops, breaking the kiss a little breathlessly.

She smiles up at him, eyes a little glassy and filled with lust and maybe something more genuine, but he can feel his body start to react and doesn't really know where they stand right now. "Stop," Charly admonishes sternly, shaking her head.

"What?" he asks, his features uncertain.

"Doing what you're doing. Thinking and rationalizing and worrying, stop it."

"Can't help it."

"I'm here. Justin, I'm here...right now, with you. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not running. My ass is a little numb I've been sitting on this counter for so goddamn long," she shrugs with a quiet, self-conscious laugh, struggling to get the rest of the sentence out. "And...and if you still...want me--"

Justin cuts her off, crushing his lips against hers and sliding her off the counter, legs still locked around his waist as he carries her towards his bedroom, mouth never leaving hers.

><><<br />
Charly blinks, her eyes adjusting to the morning light as she feels someone's lips on her shoulders, then her neck and she smiles as he reaches her mouth.

"Morning," Justin mumbles against her, dropping playful kisses to every available part of her face.

"Since when are you a morning person?"

"Since I have you...naked...in my bed. I like it." He wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively and she laughs, pushing him off of her and turning on her side to face him. She hoists the bedsheets up, wrapping them around herself discreetly.

"Time?" she asks, noting that he's fully dressed in a dress shirt, tie, and slacks.

"Seven-thirty," he replies, tracing absent lines down her bare arm. "I'm in meetings 'til two but I was thinking after I could show you around the city a bit and then maybe you'd wanna put on a dress, pretend to be my date for the evening and come to this party with me?"

"I don't have a dress."

"No big, I'll have Rach swing by and take you to get one. On me."

Charly stiffens, easing herself into a sitting position against the headboard. She looks down, suddenly occupied with her hands and her mind races, all the events of last night suddenly becoming cheapened with his offer. "I don't need you to buy me a dress, Justin."

Justin's expression softens. "I know you don't. Come in your jeans if you want, hell, come in your pajamas I don't care..." he trails a hand across her cheek. "Just come. Please."

She sighs, relenting at the way his eyes are pleading, his mouth framed into a slight pout. "You're way too good at making that face, you know that?"

"So I've been told," he gives her a quick peck on the lips before pulling himself off the bed, straightening out his shirt. "Go back to sleep. And I wouldn't complain if you didn't put any clothes on...just sayin'."

"Color me completely unsurprised," Charly laughs, burrowing back underneath the blankets, sleep claiming her still exhausted body.

Justin bends down, pressing a kiss to her temple as he pulls the sheets up past her shoulders. "Love you," he whispers into her ear before disappearing out the door.

And for the first time, through heavy lidded eyes she smiles, liking the sound of it.

><><<br />
"Daddy you're doing it all wrong!" Dylan huffs, excess flour on her face and shirt. "Dinosaurs first, then the monkeys!"

Drew glances down at the cookie sheet in front of him, utterly confused. "What's the difference?"

"The dinosaurs are bigger, if you don't put them first then there's no room and then it takes a long time and I get bored." She finishes, rearranging the shaped dough to her specifications. "See, that's how you do it."

"You're a little bit nuts, you know that?" he asks, laughing as he lifts her from the counter, setting her down on her feet. "Alright munchkin, go pick out a movie while I stick these in the oven."

He places the tray into the shoddy oven, setting the timer as a knock sounds at the door. Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, he moves to answer it, some disappointment lingering in his features when he sees Lauren on the other side. "Hey Laur, how's it going?"

"Come on, you didn't think she was gonna leave you with D for four days without so much as having me check in?" Lauren raises an eyebrow, letting herself inside.

"No, but she's been gone a night and she's already called four times today so I didn't think a physical visit would be completely necessary," he mutters.

"It's you. So it is necessary."

"Duly noted."

Lauren eyes the apartment, quite a bit smaller than hers and Charly's. Cheap furniture is scattered around the makeshift living room that essentially blends onto the kitchen. Off a wall in the corner she can spy a small bedroom, already littered with toys and books. "So where's Dylan sleeping?"

"In the bedroom. I took the couch." He says, raking a hand through his hair, reaching for the cigarette behind his ear.

"How noble. You smoking in the house?"

"Not while she's here. There's a little terrace off the bedroom--"

"What are you doing, Drew?" Lauren hisses, making sure that Dylan can't hear her.

"Excuse me?"

"This whole 'I've got my shit together and want to make amends' crap, what is it? You looking to get back with Charly 'cause it's not gonna happen."

"It's been almost six years, Laur. This isn't about me and Charly anymore. It's about Dylan, and I wanna make it right." Drew says sincerely, leading her by the elbow to the far corner of the kitchen, not wanting Dylan to overhear them. "Can you cut me a fuckin' break here?"

"Do you remember the last time you saw them, before you left?" Lauren asks. Drew opens his mouth to respond but she keeps talking, not giving him the option. "Cause I do. You fell asleep, Drew. You fell asleep in the bathtub with a three month old--"

"I remember," he interjects, clenching and unclenching his jaw. "I remember well enough on my own, every goddamn day, without needing to be reminded by you or Charly or anybody else. And I'm not making excuses for that shit, and I'm not pretending it didn't happen but I'm also not doing any of that anymore and I'm not so bad off so I'd appreciate not being treated like a fucking criminal in MY house just because I want to spend time with my kid." Drew wipes at his mouth with his hand, trying to keep his volume under control.

"If you fuck this up again or bail--"

"I won't."

Lauren meets his gaze, noting that there isn't even the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. And a big part of her wants to respect it, to believe it, but history has taught her not to be so trusting with him. "If you do...she's not three months old anymore, Drew. She'll remember it. And she'll hate you for it. And you'll deserve it."

"I won't," he repeats.

"Okay."

Drew shifts awkwardly from one foot to another, clearing his throat with a loud cough. "You wanna stick around a while, have some cookies? We're about to watch a movie."

Lauren nods, shrugging her jacket off. "Ratatouille?"

"If you can believe it, I actually got her into Happy Feet."

><><<br />
"So everything's fine?" Charly shakes her hair loose from the towel, the wet strands clinging to her face. Irritated, she pushes them back, eyeing herself in the giant mirror. She turns her head, hearing the door downstairs open and close, before returning to the conversation. "Lauren!"

"Yes, everything's fine. The place is kind of...well, it looks safe anyway and he's not smoking in the house. They made cookies."

"She knows how to make cookies?"

"Apparently your boyfriend--"

"He's NOT my--"

"Oh give it up already, you psycho."

Charly laughs, stepping out of the bathroom and turning the lights off.

"Baby, you awake?" She hears Justin call from downstairs. "Me and Rachel wanna take you out so get your ass up and ready, woman!"

"I'm ready!" Charly shouts back. "Hey Laur, I gotta go--you sure everything's fine?"

"Yes!" Lauren pauses, watching Dylan and Drew from the corner of her eye, the child half asleep on her father's stomach, his arm draped across her protectively to ensure she's safe. "I really think...I don't know, Charly, he seems like...like Drew when we first met him. Only grown up. For real this time."

Charly hesitates, chewing on a fingernail nervously. "Maybe. We'll see."