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Charles has a system.
Three years ago Charles started putting the names of his bad dates in his phone. Not their real names, but little things that help him remember who they are and why he should avoid them. It’s a perfect system. That’s what he tells Raven one day when he returns from the bathroom at their favorite coffee shop and finds her doubled over with laughter, his phone clutched in her hand.
“What the FUCK Charles?” she had asked, shoving his phone at him. He had looked at it with confusion for a long moment until he realized that the text that had amused her was from Do Not Answer Because The Sex Was Terrible. Charles is pretty sure his name was something like Scott or Ian, but he didn’t put Scott or Ian in the phone, just why he should avoid him.
“It works,” Charles nonchalantly tells Raven, grabbing his phone from her and shoving it quickly into his pocket, trying to act like it’s no big deal. It does more than work. It’s perfect. She looks at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re an ass, Charles.”
Charles shrugs. Maybe he is. At least he’s a clever ass. And one who avoids being kept awake all night by Gives Good Head but Snores Really Really Loud unless he’s feeling particularly horny and doesn’t have class the next day.
“And a slut.”
“Is that very sex-positive of you?”
“Fuck you. If you ever do this to me…”
“I would never!” Charles insists, making his eyes wide with mock indignation. Raven has no idea that she had been Never Picks up Her Laundry and Needs to Stop Bringing her Fucking Dates Home and once was Really Needs to Admit her Goddamn Bisexuality for about three weeks when she was supposedly NOT dating some girl she’d met browsing in the aisles of their local bookstore who she seemed to also NOT be sleeping with. This was a strange development because Charles kept bumping into the girl in his kitchen. He should have asked for her number so he could have put her in his contacts: Has Spectacular Bedhead from Fucking My Sister All Night.
Charles had smiled and Raven had glared even harder.
Charles has a system. It’s flawless. That is, until it’s not.
It all starts with the guy he picks up at the club.
Well, it doesn’t really start there. It starts before that, but Charles doesn’t know it at that time. It really starts a few days earlier at the same coffee shop where Raven had stumbled upon his faultless system the day before.
“Why don’t you just date, Charles?”
“Hmmmmm?” Charles doesn’t look up from his laptop. He stares at the research article Hank had sent him, wondering how it might fit into their latest project.
“You know, online dating, singles night at the grocery store, SPEED DATING at your local bar. Meet cute over geeky genetics pick-up lines….”
Charles sighs and rolls his eyes. He loves his sister, but her meddling drives him up the wall. He briefly considers distracting her by asking her why she won’t just admit she’s queer and telling her he actually liked the bedhead girl a lot. She made funny jokes while he was ignoring her and trying to make his morning coffee. Raven had cried for a week after she stopped coming around. It feels a bit too personal.
He settles on a different tact: honesty.
“I don’t want to date, Raven. This works for me.”
Charles doesn’t have time for dating. As the youngest student in the genetics program, he can’t devote weekends to hand-holding in the park, or watching movies and sharing popcorn. A quick fuck gets the job done.
“I feel sorry for the poor saps you pick up.”
Charles finally looks up at his sister, who is taking a sip of her latte and looking at him. She is wearing an annoying, know-it-all smirk on her lips, and he decides not to tell her she has some latte foam sitting on them that she might want to wipe away.
“I get no complaints, Raven. And really, how is dating working for you?” Charles knows full well no one has been coming around since Bedhead. He serves her back the same smirk, but increases the volume. “At least I’m having sex.”
Raven flinches, just a little. Charles feels a small creep of regret. But not much, because the smirk is gone and Raven’s eyes are now daggers.
“Do you know how pissed the guys you pick up would be if they knew your little system?” Raven makes air quotes when she says system. Charles resists the urge to correct her inappropriate use of air quotes.
“They’ll never know, Raven,” Charles says. “That’s the beauty of The System.”
He should have known better.
He picks up someone that night. He’s tall, handsome, has come-to-bed eyes. He hits every kink Charles might have for a night of debauchery. Until he opens his mouth. Two hours later Charles has heard way too much about politics, even if it was in a sexy accent and there has been zero fucking. The other man is smiling and flirting, leaning in towards him, but instead of suggesting a blow job in the bathroom, he keeps talking about the fucking democratic presidential election, until Charles is ready to give up his citizenship and move to the UK just to get away from him.
He texts Raven.
Not getting fucked tonight. Accidentally picked up a goddamn Polysci major.
She texts him back an eyeroll.
Serves you right, you asshat.
Charles chuckles at Raven and Polysci Major Who Talks Too Much smiles. He must think he’s laughing at HIM. No. He’s not. Charles offers him a wan smile back. He even attempts one of his spectacularly funny genetics jokes. It falls flat. Charles grows even more irritated, but it seems he cannot escape Polysci.
Another hour later, Charles has learned that Polysci Major grew up in Germany, that they go to the same university and he’d like to see Charles again. Charles nods vaguely, not really agreeing to see him again, and says something about needing to go home and study. Suddenly Polysci is holding his phone, and is putting his phone number in Charles’ contacts.
Fat chance, Charles thinks to himself.
As soon as Charles stumbles from the bar he taps his contacts to look at what the other man had entered. He stares at the name, Erik, and hits edit on the contact when he sees Polysci walk out. Charles shoves his phone into his pocket and offers the other man a big, disingenuous smile. Polysci clearly sees this as an invitation and sidles up to where Charles is standing, then leans on the wall next to him. Charles glances over at him and briefly regrets that Polysci is so annoying because he’s also quite handsome.
Polysci turns his head and kisses Charles.
It’s a nice kiss. No, it’s a really good kiss. But is it worth three hours of conversation? Hell no. Polysci breaks away, whispers in Charles’ ear to text him, then walks away. Charles pulls his phone out and unlocks the screen, then finishes editing the contact. Erik becomes Polysci Major Who Talks too Much. Then he mutes Erik. If he texts as much as he talks, Charles will never be left alone.
Charles looks at his watch. It’s still pretty early and Raven will be on the couch, watching some awful horror movie. If he gets home fast enough, he can lay his head on her lap and moan at her about how awful his night was then demand she make popcorn. He texts her.
Still up?
Is Chucky a killer doll?
You have the WORST taste,
I take it you struck out.
Oh my way home. Make me popcorn.
You’re an ass.
Raven is indeed on the couch when he gets home. He flops down and tells her all about how awful Polysci was, then whines about not being drunk enough to make the conversation worth it, until she finally tells him to shut the fuck up and unpauses the movie.
“I don’t want to hear more about you being an ass, Charles. I already have to witness it on a daily basis.”
Charles wakes the next morning feeling nowhere near hung over enough. As much as he wishes it were different, it’s probably for the best. He and Hank need to work on their project. He grabs his phone and sees there are multiple texts from Polysci. Charles unlocks his phone then mutes his failed one night stand. He finds Hank in his contacts and texts him.
Library at 1100.
He sees the telltale three dots of Hank responding.
The library? Really?
Charles rolls his eyes. Hank can be dense. Yes, the library. Where else are they going to research their genetics term paper?
Yes. Bring coffee.
One hour, and one shower later, Charles pushes open the door of the library and walks through the foyer, his bookbag heavy on his shoulder. The library is his home away from home, the place Charles spends most of his time. He cruises through glass doors and into the main room, not even glancing around. Hank will be in their usual place in the stacks. He’ll probably have already found some journals. He’d better have actually remembered to bring the fucking coffee. Hank forgets half the time. While Charles studies as hard as he parties, Hank’s single-minded attention to detail probably saves most of their projects, yet he can’t remember to make sure Charles is fully caffeinated. He rounds a corner, his mind working through some of their hypothesis when he runs smack into…
Polysci.
Fuck.
He must be studying on a Sunday morning too. For a moment Charles respects the level of both dedication and geekiness this indicates, then he remembers that Polysci had talked to him for a whole hour about Paul-Michel Foucault, and he decides Polysci needs to get a life.
“Oh, hi,” Charles says shortly. Polysci smiles and holds out a coffee. Charles stares at it for a long moment, wondering if Polysci always carries a spare coffee around. He takes it and gives Polysci a small smile, not too much of one, just in case it encourages him.
“I was meeting someone,” Charles stammers, clutching the coffee and looking around for Hank.
“Yeah. Me.”
Charles blinks at Polysci’s confidence. Polysci smiles. It’s a wide, almost predatory grin. Charles briefly wonders if he’s being stalked. He takes a drink of the coffee. It’s good. He looks at Polysci over the lid. He’s actually quite handsome. And he did magically appear with coffee.
“Should we get out of here?” Polysci asks.
Charles nods. Hank and their project can wait.
They talk for hours again, but this time Charles gets a word in edgewise, and in the bright glare of daylight, without alcohol or fucking involved, Polysci is actually interesting. Charles learns that he hates Ayn Rand too. They debate the ethics around commercial genetic testing. Charles endures a second round of Polysci’s assessment of the last presidential election but this time finds it a bit more interesting. Finally Charles tells Polysci that he needs to get home. They say goodbye and Polysci kisses Charles on the cheek.
Charles blushes.
When he gets back to his apartment Charles remembers he has ditched Hank and their project. He grabs his phone and texts him.
Meet at the coffee shop tomorrow. 9 am.
...dot dot dot…
Sure.
Charles turns onto his side and before he goes to sleep, he thinks about Polysci.
The next morning when Charles rolls into the coffee shop, the same monstrous bookbag on his shoulder, all ready to study, Hank is nowhere to be found. But Polysci is easy to spot, sitting at a booth, his face lighting up when Charles walks into the room.
Goddammit.
He considers ignoring Polysci, but then the other man leaps up from the chair he’s sitting in and wipes his hands on his pants in a nervous and slightly endearing gesture. Charles finds this wildly attractive, because someone who looks as good as Polysci does shouldn’t be nervous at all. Yet, it seems he is. Charles offers him a slight, indulgent smile and makes his way to the table. He might as well say ‘hi’. What will it hurt? It’s not like he had a terrible time yesterday. It was actually sort of fun.
“Hey,” Polysci says, sounding oddly nervous. “I would have gotten you coffee….”
Charles smiles again and this time it’s genuine and amused.
“You really don’t have to get me coffee every time you see me.”
“Well, it’s a coffee shop,” Polysci shrugs. “Seems appropriate. Sit?”
Polysci gestures at the chair across from him. Charles starts to protest. He can’t really sit. The project is due in two weeks. Hank will be here any minute. He is about to tell Polysci that he’s out of luck, then he changes his mind. It won’t hurt to sit for just a few minutes. Just until Hank shows up. He drops his book bag to the floor and slides into the chair across from Polysci, and for a brief moment he thinks maybe he should actually stop calling him Polysci and start calling him by his real name, except that he actually can’t remember his name.
And he erased it from his contacts.
System malfunction.
Shit.
Polysci is talking about something he ready recently in the New York Times, something about science, but Charles can’t focus. He’s busy trying to remember the other man’s goddamn name. Finally Charles lands on a plan. He leans forward and puts his chin on his hands, as if what Polysci is saying is the most fascinating thing in the world, which is actually kind of true, because he’s talking about an article Charles remembers reading a few days ago, and it IS actually interesting. He blinks his eyes a few times and when there is a brief lull in the conversation, Charles asks, in his best charming voice,
“Coffee?”
Polysci laughs.
“I thought I didn’t have to get you coffee every time I saw you.”
“I guess you thought wrong,” Charles flirts. This results in a huge, happy grin from Polysci, who then leaps up and heads towards the counter. He stops and turns back to Charles.
“What is your order? I guess I should know it, since we keep doing this. And since it seems getting you coffee is part of the deal.”
...we keep doing this…
Charles blushes.
“Grande white mocha.”
Polysci arches an eyebrow.
“With whip.”
Polysci laughs, then repeats, “Grande white mocha with whip.”
“Extra hot.”
Polysci’s eyebrow shoots up again. Charles smiles.
“Grande white mocha with whip, extra hot,” Polysci pauses, smiles, then adds, “like you.”
Oh god. Charles turns red.
“No foam,” Charles adds quickly, ignoring him. Polysci snorts.
“Grande white mocha with whip, extra hot, no foam,” Polysci laughs, “Seems the latte I got you yesterday was way off the mark.”
Charles shrugs, “I have a sweet tooth.”
Polysci orders the coffee which gives Charles a chance to observe his ass. It’s a nice ass. Really nice. Ever better in the light of day. Charles suddenly realizes that Polysci and his ass have made him forget what he came to the coffee shop for in the first place. He looks around, wondering if he’s just missed Hank slouched in a booth, but he sees him nowhere. Charles shrugs. He goes back to staring at the barista, then back at Polysci’s ass, then at the barista again, and finally she puts a drink on the counter and yells out,
“GRANDE WHITE MOCHA WITH WHIP EXTRA HOT NO FOAM FOR ERIK.”
Charles smiles triumphantly. Yes, that was it. Erik. Polysci is Erik. It’s a nice name. A strong name.
Erik.
Erik walks back to the table, Charles’ ridiculous drink in his hand.
“So,” Erik says, sliding back into his chair. “Where were we?”
“New York Times article,” Charles says brightly, feeling quite clever. He’ll text Hank later, apologize for a second time.
He never texts Hank.
Instead he ends up walking with Erik to the park down the street, listening intently as Erik regales him with a tale about growing up in Germany and how he had been mystified by shopping malls when he first moved to the states. He is so animated and funny telling Charles how he thought he’d landed in heaven where he could buy a hand mixer as well as a pretzel that he could dip in mustard, AND underwear too, all under the same roof. Charles starts to forget he ever found Erik boring. He forgets he gave him an awful nickname in his phone. He forgets he swore he’d never subject himself to Erik’s droning ever again.
Charles becomes even more forgetful when Erik says something about his stomach growling and suggests dinner. He knows a pub down the street. Charles feels endlessly charmed that Erik calls it a pub and not a bar.
When Erik kisses him goodnight Charles becomes an outright amnesiac about how they met. Because kissing Erik is really hot and he thinks he wants to do more of it.
Charles forgets about The System. He actually forgets about everything. The genetics project. Hank. Buying milk, as Raven reminds him, waving an empty carton in front of his face one morning. He forgets everything except Erik. Erik’s eyes. Erik’s lips. Erik holding his hand as they walk across campus. Erik getting him that goddamn awful coffee order that was only Charles’ way to remember his name.
This is probably why he is totally taken by surprise when The System goes from malfunction into total meltdown.
It all starts because he decides to bring Erik home.
He debates this decision briefly. It’s not something he usually does, but after a whole week of seeing each other every day, Charles is either ready to get down on one knee and propose to the lanky, blue-eyed Polysci major who surprised him in more ways than one, or to bring him home to meet Raven and deal with the fact that she is going to be endlessly amused by the fact that Charles is doing exactly what she had suggested: dating. Since proposing after one week of handing holding and making out might be a bit too much, Charles settles on having Erik stop over after one of their long brunch dates, where they talk politics, science, and stare into each others’ eyes over quiche and drink bottomless cups of coffee. He fully expects Raven to behave like an asshole, but after all his declarations of having no time for relationships, he probably deserves it. And he really likes Erik, so he might as well face her consternation and then they can all move on.
it’s a perfect plan. What he doesn’t factor in is Hank.
Charles punches the code to their apartment in and pushes the door open, cheerfully calling out Raven’s name while gripping Erik’s hand and dragging him over the threshold at the same time. Instead of Raven, Charles walks into the living room to find Raven and Hank. Hank is looking oddly enraged, almost beastly. Raven is standing next to him with an uncharacteristically sheepish look on her face. Erik crowds behind Charles as Charles suddenly stops in the doorway of the living room, staring at his sister and his friend.
“Uh,” Charles starts, looking from Hank to Raven and then back to Hank. “Hank?” In his confusion, he forgets to introduce Erik.
“Tell him.”
“Go ahead,” Raven crosses her arms across her chest and glances petulantly at Hank. He glares back at her.
“You did this, Raven…”
“So,” Raven says a bit too brightly, “I maybe...just possibly...might have played a prank on you.”
Charles is still confused. “A prank?” he repeats, wondering what any of this has to do with Hank.
“You know your system?”
Charles’ brain is scrambling. “System?” he repeats, and he kind of remembers, a niggling distant thought in his mind.
“Your contacts.”
The System.
Charles’ eyes grow wide.
“The one where you nickname the guys you hook up with in your contacts?”
His eyes go even wider.
Oh shit.
Erik. He remembers Erik, who is standing behind him, witnessing all of this. Erik, who is in his contacts, and he should have changed it, but he’s been busy. Busy holding hands with Erik. Kissing Erik. Meeting Erik who is always holding an extra coffee for him. Erik, who he had decided to avoid, and now seems to be dating….
“I might have swapped one with Hank’s number.”
Oh no.
“Raven…” Charles tries to warn her with his eyes. ...shut up shut up shut up shut up…
Raven apparently doesn’t get Charles’ efforts at telepathy in that moment.
“Polysci Major Who Talks Too Much.”
Oh god. Charles’ mind reels through the consequences of this information at extraordinary speed.
It all starts to make sense now. He’d been texting Hank to get together for their project, and Erik had been getting those texts, which is why he kept mysteriously showing up everywhere. And he’d muted Erik and totally forgot he’d done it. And...
“Charles?” Erik says slowly from behind him, his voice breaking through Charles’ whirling thoughts.
He wants to turn to Erik, to explain that he’s an asshole, and it’s really just practical, and Erik turned out to be so much more, and if he’d known, he’d never have given him that HORRIBLE nickname. He can’t because Hank is talking now, and it’s clear he’s pissed, and Charles’ mind is racing, and he’s not sure what to do next.
“We’re a week behind on our project now, thanks to your sister.”
Charles’ eyes move from Hank to Raven. Hank’s hands are on his hips. Raven is turning red. It’s at that moment that Raven seems to notice that Charles is not alone. She cranes her neck to look around Charles and her eyes widen. Charles sees a sly, triumphant smile spread across her face, as if she has found the escape from this conversation she needs.
“Well, well, well...who is this, brother?”
Raven is almost purring with satisfaction as she asks the question. Charles wants to die. He turns to Erik who is watching him with an unreadable look on his face.
“Erik,” Charles says slowly, “This is my sister, Raven. Raven,” he looks back at Raven and squeezes his eyes shut, then takes a deep breath. He’s been caught. He might as well take the plunge. “This is Polysci Major Who Talks too Much.”
Charles wants to die. He stares at Raven, not wanting to turn and look at Erik, utterly horrified at the level of system meltdown he is experiencing. Then he hears a small chuckle behind him. The chuckle becomes a laugh; then an outright guffaw; then a howl. Now Charles does turn to look at Erik and he finds him doubled over and clutching his sides.
Charles frowns. He stares at Erik, who is still laughing hysterically. Finally Erik looks up at Charles, tears streaming down his cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something, then he starts chortling again. Slowly Charles shifts from horrified to mildly annoyed as he watches Erik fight to gain some sort of control. Finally Erik stands up, sniffs a little, and looks at Raven.
“Is there something funny?” Charles asks Erik, feeling a bit petulant. Erik looks at him and nods, still grinning.
“Yes, Charles. There is.”
Erik looks from Charles to Hank and Raven, who are now staring at the both of them.
“Hi Raven, I”m Erik,” Erik says politely. He pulls his phone from his back pocket and taps on it. “I guess I’m dating your brother, Charles. Or, as I like to call him...”
Erik holds the phone out to Raven and Charles can see he has his contacts open. Charles’ eyes grow wide as he reads what is on the screen just as Erik says it aloud.
“Blue-eyed bad genetics pun-making hottie”
~The End~