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They let the night air settle around them, suddenly very tired in a way that they haven’t been in a long time. They’re used to the bone deep weariness from walking non-stop through dangerous territory. They’re used to the sheer exhaustion after a days long mission when they barely get their boots off before falling asleep. They’re used to being soul-achingly drained because they’ve seen one tragedy too many that day. But this…this feeling of pure, raw exposure, of knowing that you have laid your heart out bare, it’s consuming.
They don’t talk, there’s no room for that right now. Instead they link arms, not ready to let go just yet, and walk home in silence.
Charlie opens his eyes in the morning, after one of his few sleeps that had been free of nightmares despite him being completely sober for the first time in…too long. The night before lives in perfect memory, as many do when he doesn’t drown them in whatever booze he’s gotten a hold of, and he feels the blood rushing to his face at the same time as his thoughts start spiraling around his head. The combination creates a strange internal pressure that he is all too familiar with, like his brain isn’t sure if it wants to collapse or explode.
They’d danced. Sami had danced with him in the middle of the sidewalk, in the middle of the night, because Charlie had wanted to.
But now there are too many questions.
Why had he told Sami he wanted to dance? Why had Sami offered? Why had he said yes? What was going to happen now?
The thought of the future makes the pressure worse. Charlie brings his hands up to rub his eyes, praying that whatever higher power had kept his sorry ass alive all these years is still looking out for him.
Were they going to talk about it? Was everything going to change?
He doesn’t know what Sami said to him at the end, but he knows from how long they’ve known each other that whatever it was had been very…honest. It wasn’t a common occurrence, what with Sami’s hobbies and their line of work, but it was something that had been coming out more since Veld.
What if nothing changed? What if last night disappeared now in the daylight, when everyone was paying attention? What if it’s like none of it ever happened, none of the desperate openness that had him clutching onto Sami for dear life? None of the honesty he’d been given in return?
Charlie knows he’ll never be able to forget it, and he’d be willing to bet Sami won’t either, but if it never happened then it never meant anything. And Charlie’s not sure he can live without that moment. He’d rather lose Sameer (and his heart clenches tightly at the mere thought) because it happened and it mattered and they can’t escape it, than lose the fact that they danced, and it meant something.
Because he needs it to mean something.
He needs to know that he didn’t put his heart on the line for nothing, that if he’s ruined the best thing he’s managed to hold onto despite all that’s happened, it mattered.
Charlie sighs, finally pulling himself out of bed to go rummage around in the kitchen. He and Sami are sharing a small flat, provided by British Intelligence, just big enough they have their own rooms. Sami’s door is shut, knowing him he’ll probably sleep in a while longer, meaning Charlie has time to figure out what he’s going to do. Or time to just sit and worry.
As it turns out, he doesn’t have as much time as he thought. Sami is awake, and standing in their kitchen with a steaming mug in hand, another sitting on the counter. He smiles gently, that same honesty plain as day. At least, it is to Charlie. Sami slides the mug down the counter, Charlie cautiously walks over and picks it up with a nod of thanks. As Sami takes a sip of his tea, Charlie stares down at his mug.
“Sami,” Charlie says, unable to stand the silence, “Last night…what was that?”
“The dance?”
“Yeah…”
“It was a dance.” Sami’s tone is even, not making any judgement, stating a fact.
“But…what did it mean?” There it is, out in the open. Charlie clutches onto his mug, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His heart pounds in his ears.
“It means,” Sami pauses, thinking, “It means as much or as little as you want it to.”
“But what does it mean to you Sameer?” Charlie looks up, meeting Sami’s eye. Desperation raises the volume of his voice a little and he hates it, hates the way his feelings are now practically on display for all to see and pick apart, but he has to know.
“I-“ Sami stares back at him, eyes wide, breathing picking up a little.
Charlie decides to try an easier question, “What did you say, when I thanked you?”
“I said, ‘only for you,’” Sami sets his mug down and steps forward, “Only for you, Charlie.”
“Why me?”
Sami reaches out and cups Charlie’s hands, still clinging onto his mug, and leans forward to kiss Charlie on the temple again, moving carefully enough that Charlie can stop this if he wants to.
He doesn’t.
“Because you matter. You matter to me.”
Charlie chokes on a sob. Sami takes the mug and puts it aside, pulling Charlie in close and holding onto him tightly, desperately. Charlie’s hands instantly come up to grasp Sami’s shirt. He tucks his face into the crook of Sami’s neck.
“It meant I finally got the dance I’ve been waiting for," Sami whispers, "with the partner I didn’t realize I was looking for. What did it mean to you?” He asks softly.
“It meant I wasn’t alone anymore.”
“Charlie,” Sami pulls back, bringing his hands up to cup Charlie’s face, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, “You never were. You never were,” He promised.