This is a bit of a long one, eh folks? Well, I'm sure you'll all be glad to know that my life is fixed up after the fire, and everything is good. Why, just this morning, Monday morning, I completed my very first university test. It is also my mums birthday. I've got to stop reminding her how close she's getting to fifty, or she's going to stop making me things to eat.

Looks like my mojo is back! I am only slightly ashamed that it came back over a twilight crossover. Maybe I should go brain myself against the wall…

I had the first two part of this written, with Harry in the forest, and the initial convo with Charlie, but after that nothing. I got home, started writing, and only just finished.

Although, considering my mums birthday was on the fourth of June, and I'm posting it on the second of July, I should probably delete most of this authors note. Oh well, I doubt people read my authors notes.

Anyway, this here is, surprise, surprise, SLASH! I dare you to guess the pairing. Go on. Dare you. Drats, foiled again. Happy reading!

Also, thank you to everyone who was concerned about me and my family after the fire, and everyone who expressed their well wishes and all sorts of stuff like that. You are all wonderful people, and witches, and fangirls, and that one green thing hiding in the corner, who's still very nice.

...|…

When Harry next opened his eyes, he was near the edge of a forest. He listened for a few minutes, the sounds of a quiet town interspersed with the sounds of the forest. After a few moments, he found the energy to stand. Still clad only in the too big pants that he'd acquired in the previous world, a chill quickly set in, and Harry shivered. This place looked and felt cold and miserable. Perfect for his mood, then. A matched pair.

Swaying unsteadily on his feet, Harry idly wondered when he'd last had something to eat. He couldn't really remember. He would have to get something to eat quickly, then, so as not to starve to a painful death. Harry took two steps and was able to glimpse the edge of the tree line. The third step, his bare foot caught an upturned root. Harry cursed his luck as he went down, cat like reflexes dulled by hunger and sadness, and not quick enough to catch himself before he hit the ground.

Lying there, with the world slowly fading black at the edges, Harry realised that he must have hit his head on something hard. At least this way he would not feel it when he starved to death. Or maybe he would freeze? The air was getting colder and he could vaguely feel wetness on his skin, but Harry was unsure if that was rain, or just the forest floor. Maybe he would be eaten. His last though, before the blissful nothing of unconsciousness, was that maybe it would be a large cat.

And if so, would that count as cannibalism?

-.-

Awareness slowly faded back in. He was not on the forest floor, cheek pressed against mud and moss, but he wasn't in a hospital. The bed was too soft, and the entire room lacked the scent of sterility that was part and parcel with a hospital room. Cautiously sniffing the air once more, Harry cracked his eyes open. He was in someone's home, and had been laid out on their couch. Whoever had brought him here had enough brains to lay him on his stomach, at least. His tail had not been slept on and was blissfully unkinked.

Harry sat up slowly. His clothes had been changed, with the shirt and pants he was in being even more ill-fitting than the pants that Archi had stole for him. The thought of Archi is quickly pushed away with the uncomfortable knowledge that someone had un and then redressed him. Harry gingerly felt the bump on his head; whatever he'd hit had missed his ear by barely an inch. Harry didn't want to contemplate how much pain he would be in if his ear was smashed.

It was very delicate.

That very ear picked up a noise, and Harrys head swivelled around, half a second before he jumped off the couch to fully face the man. He had been right, the clothes were almost as bad as Dudleys old hand-me-downs, but much nicer, and the man was muscular, rather than fat. The lounge room Harry was in fed straight into a small kitchen area, and the man was sitting at what was obviously his kitchen table. The man was young, probably less than a decade older than Harry, with dark brown hair and eyes to match.

He was watching Harry carefully, with an air of disbelief that told of a world where a cat boy would not be easily accepted, if at all. Harry hoped that he wouldn't be shipped off to some secret government facility to be experimented on. The man didn't seem scared or frightened or ready to freak out, however, just completely bewildered, as if he could not actually believe there was a cat boy standing in his lounge room.

Harry walked slowly towards the man, wary of his sore head, and prepared to assimilate to the new world. The man watched him carefully, as if afraid Harry might collapse. Harry made it to the closest chair and seated himself across the table from Charlie. There was an extra chair, but Harry couldn't hear anybody but the two of them in the house. Curious. There was silence.

"Er, hello. I'm Harry." The brunette looked started, and Harry mused that he probably looked more like a wild animal than a human. After spending so long in the desert with no modern comforts, he must look frightful. The man probably hadn't expected Harry to be able to talk, least of all with an English accent.

"I'm Charlie. How's your head?" Harry shrugged.

"It's alright." There was silence, before Charlie stood and walked to the fridge.

"Do you want something to drink?" Harry nodded, asking for water. Charlie sat back down, passing Harry some water before opening a bottle of ginger ale.

"Thank you for, um, getting me out of the forest." Harry said softly, and Charlie smiled at him.

"Wasn't any trouble. I saw your hand on the ground, and went over to investigate, and then I brought you inside. I decided against taking you to the hospital once I realised that your, um…"

"Appendages?" Harry offered, and Charlie nodded, slotting the word into his speech.

"Once I noticed your appendages were real." Harry took a sip of water.

"Thank you for that. I doubt cat boys are very common here." Charlie chuckled.

"No, not common at all." Harry took a breath and decided to ask Charlie about the world he was in. He doubted that there were any wise old telepathic headmasters, or kind butlers to fill him in.

"Charlie, where is here?" Charlie looked up from where he'd been staring at the table.

"Forks, Washington." Harry nodded. America again, then.

"How old are you?" Charlie asks, and Harry thinks hard. He had been fifteen, but he'd been through a few worlds, and had spent months in each. He could be sixteen now, for all he knew. His sense of time has been distorted.

"How old are you?" Charlie raised an eyebrow, a smirk tilting Harrys lips, and Charlie chuckled once more.

"I was born in 1964, and it's 1989."

"You're 25. I was born in 1980." Charlie chocked on his drink; ginger ale splattering his chin and the table.

"What?" He coughs out, and Harry laughs.

"I'm eighteen." Harry lies with a smile. If he could be seventeen at fifteen, then surely at sixteen he would look eighteen?

"Okay then." Charlie says, grabbing some paper towel to clean the table and himself.

They talk for a while, and Harry subtly pries more information out of Charlie. It's September, Forks is almost a criminally small town. It rains constantly. There are no cat boys in this world. Harry wonders if perhaps there is a wizarding world here, but quickly pushes the thought out of his mind. Even in the wizarding world, he was an oddity. And, without his wand, he would speedily be taken away to something like the Department of Mysteries.

Charlie also managed to learn things from the teen. He was an orphan, British, with a quiet dislike for rain. He was more heartbroken than Charlie himself, and disliked invasive questions.

Charlie showed him to the spare room.

-.-

A routine was quickly established. Charlie would wake up at half past six and prepare himself for the day ahead. He would dress in his uniform, brush his hair, and head downstairs. Harry would wake up just before seven and head downstairs. He made breakfast for the two of them and they ate in a companionable silence. They never talked about anything deep or ground breaking, and soon enough Charlie headed off to the police station. In his adventures through the worlds, he'd never actually met anyone who was proper authority. He'd met vigilantes, superheros and mutants, but never an actual member of the law.

It was odd. And kind of cool. Charlie had a gun, like legitimately, he had a gun. He kept it in a locked case at night, but still. And he had handcuffs, which was ridiculous. The first time Harry had seen them, his mind had completely bypassed the gutter and instead swan dived into the sewers, paddling about playfully. Charlie either completely ignored or completely missed the suddenly dirty thoughts that plagued Harrys mind, and the slight wavering of his voice.

As if that wasn't enough to make Harry weak in the knees, Charlie topped it all off with a uniform. Sure, it wasn't leather (or spandex) or Kevlar, but an actual uniform. Like, an enforced uniform, rather than 'hey, we're not exactly on the right side of the law, so let's protect our identities with silly – but attractive – costumes.' Harry didn't realise that, along with his already apparent fetishes of having his ears rubbed, men in tight clothing and his love of destroying things, he had a thing for men in uniform. Maybe, travelling through the universes, Harry could collect them all?

A cop in this dimension (hopefully), a sailor in the next, then army, then air force. Oh, and a fireman – for the love of everything holy, please, a fireman.

God, when he got back to his dimension, he was going to have to buy a new bed, just to have enough room to carve himself some rightfully earned notches. With the way he was going, he was going to get back home and go into withdrawals. Oh well, Harry shrugged. He was having fun at the moment, that's what counted. Besides, if things got too bad once he was at home, he could just start having one night stands there.

Although, with the issue of the press, it might become a problem. Then again, who said he could only have sex with wizards? No one. Harry laughed out loud as he made dinner. Unbeknownst to our happy cat boy, he was being watched by Charlie. The man was slightly confused. When they'd first met, Harry had been clearly heart broken. He moped about a bit, and hardly ever smiled, but after a few days, he started to smile. A few days after that, and he was laughing and joyful and so completely happy that Charlie simply couldn't comprehend it.

And now Harry was laughing at nothing, while making dinner.

Now, Charlie appreciated the fact that Harry cooked for him, truly, he did. Harry even made him lunch. The folks at the diner had even commented about how he never ate there anymore, and his mates at work had been ribbing him about having a new woman. He highly doubted that would ever happen. He'd loved Renee, and despite the fact that their relationship had disintegrated, he highly doubted he'd ever stop loving her. Charlie stepped into the kitchen, which was pleasantly free of the smell of burnt food, which had always permeated the air when ever he'd tried to cook, and couldn't believe that he was about to risk the wonderful food that Harry was making him for the sake of his curiosity.

"Hey, Harry?" Harry turned around, a smile on his face and specks of flour colouring his dark hair. Charlie was stuck, for a second, at the contrast between Harry – a god damn, fucking cat boy – and the thoughts of Renee. Renee hated the kitchen, hated to cook. They'd eaten out a lot, mostly because Renee despised the kitchen and the womanly shackles she apparently thought it meant, and Charlie could set cornflakes on fire. Harry, on the other hand, loved the kitchen. He was such a little homemaker, it was ridiculous.

He cleaned Charlies uniform, made the beds, made sure the house was tidy and packed him lunch. Lunch with sandwiches and thoughtful notes, and happy cat faces on said notes. Charlie looked at Harry a bit longer, still kind of struck with the picture Harry made, tail swirling around him, until Harry prodded him out of his reverie with a quiet but amused,

"Yes, Charlie?" The police man blinked, walking further into the kitchen and sitting down at the table.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked, and Harry chuckled.

"You just did, but ask another one if it pleases you." Charlie chuckled softly as well, before trying to think about the best way to word his inquiry. Eventually he decided to just do what he did best, be blunt. He was horrible at subtle, and he felt awkward trying it.

"Why are you so happy? When you came here, you were so…sad. What changed?" Harry placed down the food he'd been working on and grabbed a dish towel to wipe his hands as he sat down across from Charlie. There was silence as Harry thought. How to explain to Charlie that, as he was a cross-dimensional traveller, the normal heart break situations didn't really apply to him, without sounding completely bonkers. That was indeed a quandary, wasn't it?

"Well, that is a question. I won't deny that I was hurt. Badly. Archi, he hurt me, and for a while, I didn't even want to face the sun." Harry said, pondering on the time he spent wandering in the desert, alone. Even without his sadness, he wouldn't have wanted to face that ruddy sun. Charlie, while Harry was away in his thoughts, blinked. Harry had been hurt by a man? Harry was … gay? He never would have picked it. Charlie thought on that for a second, remembering Harry in the kitchen, in the ruffled apron he'd bought Renee as a gag gift that she'd left in the hall cupboard, and how suited he was for domestic life.

Hmm. How had he not picked it?

"But, life goes on, Charlie. It feels like it doesn't, like nothing will ever be the same again. Without them, the world that had been in the palm of your hands turns to shit." Harry watched Charlie with hawk eyes. He had noticed the man sulk about, and, whilst he preferred to let people mope in their own time, it was clear Charlie had been grieving for his relationship for far too long.

"One day you wake up, and it's not that bad. The next day, you smile, and the day after that, you laugh. Before you know it, you're singing horrific pop songs at the top of your lungs and dance around the living room in your boxers because it amuses you to no end to watch your room mate turn red, rather than because you simply can't be bothered to get dressed that day." Harry was very emphatic with his speech. Either Charlie would, hopefully, get his message about wandering around in a less than presentable manner, or he'd think Harry was talking from personal experience.

Charlie listened to Harrys answer carefully, and thought. That answer wasn't actually half bad. Other people, like Harry and Billy had tried to make him see that like wasn't over just because he and Renee were, but none had ever explained it as eloquently, as passionately, as Harry had. There was a fire in Harrys mismatched eyes as he grabbed Charlies hand, fierce with his conviction. Charlie was struck, once again, with how different Harry was from Renee. They were both passionate, fiery people, but Harry seemed less… abrasive, somehow.

The pair stared at each other for a few minutes, silence and intensity stretching through the air between them, before the moment was broken by a beeping from the oven. The pair jumped, before Harry let go of Charlies hand and headed over to the oven. Grabbing the oven mits, Harry wondered if Charlie would ever really know how hard he was trying to pull him from the funk he slipped into. Honestly, he was cooking. Sure, Harry could cook, but after his childhood it would never be his favourite thing.

Charlie needed to stop eating unhealthy food, or he was going to ruin that nice body he had. All muscle, no fat, smooth face, lovely eyes…Harry, if asked, would blame his blush on the heat from the oven. His tail snapped, and Harry scolded himself. He shouldn't be trying to get into Charlies pants because…because…Harry was sure there was a logical reason he shouldn't, like the man having gone through a bad breakup or something like that, but the dominant side of his brain didn't actually give that much of a fuck.

Seriously, what Charlie needed was some good, hard rebound sex. Sex with no consequences. Mayhap with a teen that would only end up disappearing into the ether, anyway?

Hmm, he should probably tell Charlie that he was going to disappear sometime in the future. He wouldn't want Charlie to slip back into his depressive groove, after all, thinking Harry had run out on him. Not that Harry had anything to run out on. Yet. Harry was confident that, with time, he would have something to leave behind. Not that that was a particularly comforting thought. Harry didn't like to think about what happened after he left a universe. The friends he'd made, his bed buddies, wondering what happened to him.

Charlie stood up to help him plate up, and the worry that caused chased all melancholy out of Harrys mind. Charlie anywhere near actual kitchen-y stuff was bad. Harry hadn't realised that anyone could be so disastrous in a kitchen, but Charlie surpassed all logical boundaries. Honestly, Harry had let him make breakfast once, and black smoke had billowed out of the kitchen. It was ridiculous. He hadn't even touched the oven!

Harry shoed Charlie away to make the table, and they sat down for an easy dinner.

..|..

Charlie hadn't really thought about what Harry felt about being couped up inside all day, only leaving the house to go into the backyard occasionally. Even after his co-workers started to tease him, honest to God tease, him about the mysterious new lady friend he had apparently acquired, he hadn't thought about it. There had been no reason to. Besides he was more concerned with setting his friends straight about the 'new woman' he had, and trying to figure out why his heart kind of skipped a beat of two whenever Harry casually brushed up against him. Or smiled at him. Or laughed. Or was in the same generally vicinity as Charlie was.

It was only after one of his mates accused him of locking his new girlfriend away in the attic, only appearing cook and, er, please, him, did he start to think about the fact that Harry was, essentially, confined to the house. It was through no fault of Charlies, of course, he'd never told Harry that he couldn't leave the house. The fact that Harry didn't leave was more likely because of his less than usual appendages.

Nevertheless, the fact remained that Harry didn't leave the house. It couldn't be good for his mental health so, when Charlie got home, he approached Harry about it. Surely Harry couldn't want to be couped up inside. Harry, apparently, hadn't even thought about it like that.

"The less I go out, the less I'm noticed." Harry said, with a shrug. He wasn't bothered. He knew he could go outside if he wanted to.

"Surely you miss being outside in the, er, sun." Harry laughed at that. Sun? He was in Forks, there was no sun.

"You know what I mean." Charlie groused, which made Harry laugh even harder.

"Come on, Harry there must be something you miss being stuck inside like this." Harry shook his head, a bemused smile still on his face.

"You are aware that I can go outside at any point. I merely stay inside so as to not cause a stir with my appearance. And besides, having free reign of your house is much better than being locked in a cupboard." Harry said flippantly. Charlie twitched slightly, his emotions completely thrown to the wind with that completely unintended insight into Harrys past. No wonder the teen was a bit small for his age. Charlie, as a father himself, couldn't abide by the abuse of children.

"So, nothing that you miss?" Charlie asked as Harry stood up to leave the lounge room. He was only going to the kitchen to put his cup away, but Charlie figured the conversation would shift once Harry got back.

"Hmm, I think I miss running." Harry said with a bit of snark, before drifting into the kitchen. One last remark made it to Charlies ears, and it made him blush. It also, however, made his stomach lurch with an unpleasant sensation, or well, not unpleasant, just, aw hell, it wasn't even his stomach that had twisted at that. He tried to ignore it though, because nothing of his should flutter or twist when he thought about Harry.

"I miss sex. Lots of sex." Charlie was silent when Harry sat back down. They put a movie in. Charlie couldn't focus on the movie, however, because all he could think of was the fact that Harry missed sex. Now, the thought of Harry in the same sentence as sex made his insides flutter, and he wondered if Harrys teeth were as sharp as they looked and whether or not Harry was flexible. On the other hand, the thought of Harry having sex with someone else made him frown, and kind of not want to let Harry out of the house ever again.

The next week, Harry approached Charlie with a proposition. No, not that type of proposition, though Harry was sorely tempted considering Charlie looked absolutely delectable before he'd brushed his hair and shaved, with a little bit of stubble and the undeniable air of a man on his day off. Harry wanted Charlie to help him blend in with the rest of the population and, if Charlie wanted to sacrifice his day off, show him around.

Charlie was, though he didn't show it, hesitant to agree. They'd go into town, and then Harry would catch the eye of a handsome man or someone considerably more desirable than Charlie, and Harry would flounce off and have sex. Lots and lots of, probably kinky, sex. Charlie knew he had no reason to feel jealous, he and Harry were just friends and house mates. They didn't have a relationship, they didn't even have casual sex. There was no logical reason for Charlie to want to secret Harry away and cook for him and, er, please him. With the reiteration of the rough sentiment that his co-workers had used to rib him, Charlie realised that he was being silly.

But then, attraction was rarely rational.

So Charlie took Harry out, but made sure the teen was rugged up securely. He hadn't been so concerned about the way someone else was dressed since the last time he'd seen Bella. It had been almost half a year since he'd last seen her, and he missed his baby. Giving Harry a look over once more wasn't necessary, but he did it anyway. A brightly coloured beanie tugged comfortably down around where Harrys ears should have been, effectively hiding that part of his not quite human-ness. Harry was wearing a long coat, not so bulky as to classify as a trench coat, but otherwise very similar. Charlie marvelled at the things he found in his closet.

Harry had thought that Port Angeles was very nice. They had stopped for doughnuts, and Harry had cackled about how they only way it could get better was if Charlie was in his uniform. Charlie hadn't been amused. Well, okay, so he'd been a bit amused. He'd promised to wear his uniform next time he ate a doughnut, and Harry had promised to make sure he did. Neither of them saw Sue Clearwater watching them intently. Neither would have cared overly much either, because they weren't doing anything naughty.

Mysterious would always be the female mind to the opposite gender.

For, whilst Harry and Charlie were just being friendly, with maybe a slight undercurrent of sexual tension, Sue saw something completely different. They were obviously out on a date, with the way Charlie was constantly hovering over the smaller figure. The constant laughter was a good sign, she noted, as was Charlie paying for everything.

She had wanted, when they separated so Harry could use the lavatory, to have an accidental 'running into' with Charlies date in the ladies. That way she could make sure Charlie wasn't going to get his heart broken. She was shocked to find that Harry didn't go into the ladies room, and instead used the men's. Keeping a careful, if somewhat stalker-ish, eye on the man as he came out Sue could clearly see that Charlie was on a date with a man. A very attractive man.

She cackled, not even bothing to silence it, and completely ignored the looks she got. Charlie, you dog! Shortly after that, she left to return to the reservation. Barely five minutes after she arrived home, both her husband Harry and Billy Black were aware of Charlies date.

The men were shocked, understandably, that their friend felt that way about another man, but they didn't let it get to them. They'd been friends with Charlie for years after all. Within the hour, she had convinced them to drop by unexpectedly on Charlie next time they knew he'd be home. Charlie would never tell them, she reasoned, so they'd have to go to him to show that they were okay with him being gay.

Miles away, Charlie suddenly stopped walking down the street. He had the strongest feeling that something ominous had just been decided, but shrugged it off when Harry turned back to smile on him.

..|..

Charlie had had a fairly easy day at work. His lunch had been nice, the lads hadn't been too thorough with their teasing, and nothing horrific had happened all day. He arrived home in a good mood. This alone should have tipped the man off to the fact that something was about to go down. Perfect days never happened. Sure enough, a few seconds after getting out of his car, a voice called out to him. Turning around, Charlie saw Harry and Billy standing there with large grins on their faces.

"Hey Charlie!" Billy said cheerfully, and Charlie almost swore. How was he going to hide Harry? Well, he didn't want to hide Harry, just his appendages. Actually, he didn't really want to cover up Harrys ears of tail, either. They were a part of him, and Charlie barely noticed anymore. It was remarkable how quickly they faded into the background of Harrys personality. Then again, Harry was keeping him fed and healthy, so who was he to complain about assorted extras on his favourite non-human?

Charlie exchanged pleasant greetings with his friends and realised that there was no way he was going to get rid of them. They'd obviously, somehow, heard the rumours that he had a girlfriend, and weren't going to leave until they saw for themselves. They'd go soon enough once they realised that he merely had a new house mate. The only problem was them freaking out about the fact that he was living with a cat/human hybrid.

Charlie unlocked the front door, quite loudly, and raised his voice when he spoke to Harry and Billy, giving Harry the gift of forewarning, no matter how short that warning was. Harry and Billy watched curiously as Charlie called out that he was home, with company. He just wanted to emphasise the point, so Harry couldn't accuse him of not knowing. Half a second later, a head popper out from around the corner. His head was soon followed by the rest of him. He was wearing that apron, as he was wont to do, and he was wiping his hands on a tea towel. Charlie was stunned, however, by the fact that he couldn't see any ears or a tail.

Sure, Harrys hair was ridiculously more messy than it usually was, but that was the only difference.

"Hello Charlie, you should have told me you were going to bring home friends. I'm not sure if we'll have enough, now." Harry said calmly, a wide smile on his face. He walked forward a few steps, and shook the hands of both men as he introduced himself.

"It's brilliant to meet you, but I have to get back to dinner. It's almost ready, and I would hate for it to burn." Harry was as happy as he normally was, no sign of anything unusual. He bounced out of the hall and back into the kitchen. Harry and Billy shared a look that didn't go entirely unnoticed by Charlie, but the cop decided to ignore it in the face of Harry looking so…human. His messier than usual hair had even covered up his hetrochromia. Not that his green eye was particularly normal, being ridiculously luminescent, but it was more socially acceptable than the yellow one.

It wasn't that Harry looked bad, far from it; he just missed the normal, irregular, Harry.

Charlie shepherded his friends into the lounge room, each man taking up one of the two single reclining chairs that occupied the room. Charlie lounged on the couch, untucking his shirt from his pants and loosening his tie, as he chatted with two of his best friends. He could hear Harry clanking about in the kitchen, and smiled at the thought of the potential confusion rising from having two Harrys.

"Dinner!" Harrys cheerful voice called out, and the three men headed towards the kitchen table. Lasagne. Charlie loved Harrys lasagne. All four men ate in relative quiet, until all that was hear was cutlery scraping against plates. Then the after dinner talking started, and Harry became highly amused, while Charlie was pretty much oblivious.

"It's good you can cook, Harry. Charlie can't cook at all." Billy began.

"Yeah, it's good he has someone who'll look after him like that." Harry Clearwater said. Charlie nodded, it was lucky for him that Harry could cook.

"Without him I'd still be getting most of my meals at the diner." Charlie chipped in.

"Yeah, but we're still friends with Charlie, even though he can't cook." Harry continued, and Billy nodded.

"Oh yeah, still brothers. We would never hate him for something outside of his control." On the surface, the four men were having a light conversation. Slightly deeper, however, they were having a significant conversation. One which Charlie missed entirely.

"I know you wouldn't do that." Charlie blinked at the sudden change of subject, but he didn't really have much more to say on the subject of Harrys cooking apart from more compliments that would, inevitably, get more and more innuendo filled until he'd be propositioning his house mate across the table from his two best friends.

"And Charlie is a wonderful man." Harry the cat boy piped in helpfully, and Harry the elder nodded.

"He is at that. And a damn fine cop. People who'd say otherwise just because of, well, things he can't control, are fools." Harry the human received a strong agreement from Billy, who practically shouted,

"Damn fools!" This was the first inkling Charlie had that he had missed something vital in the conversation. No one else seemed out of the loop, however, so he let it slide.

"Besides, each to his own." Harry said succinctly, and both native American men nodded heartily. Charlie had the most adorable little confused face going on, so Harry decided to let him in on it.

"I'm going to clear the table if you're all finished." Harry said, and Charlie stood up to help him. They were waved away, however, by Charlies friends.

"No, you two go sit down. We'll clean this stuff up. It's the least we can do, for intruding on the pair of you." Billy said, and Harry the cat nodded, taking Charlie by the arm and leading him to the couch. They sat down, Harry seated closer than he normally would have. Significantly closer. In fact, they were pressed side to side, even though they had the entirely of the lounge to spread out on.

"Am I missing out on something?" Charlie asked Harry quietly, and the teen sniggered for a few seconds, before practically howling with laughter. Charlie was bemused, and eventually Harry answered him.

"You really thought they were talking about how bad you are in the kitchen?" Harry asked, and Charlie nodded.

"It got a little weird at the end, but yeah."

"Oh, Charlie, you have such good friends. Subtle friends, which makes me wonder how you're so bad at anything subtle. They were trying to let you know that they're perfectly fine with you dating another man." Charlie blinked, and the lifted an eyebrow.

"But I'm not dating a man." Harry sniggered into his hand once more.

"So? They think you're dating me, and you've been too clueless to clue them in." Charlie blinked, replaying the previous conversation, before groaning. There was chuckling from in the kitchen.

"Take it easy on him Harry; we want him in one piece still!" Billy cackled with all the amusement of a man who knew he was going to be teasing his friend for a long time. Charlies shoulders sagged, and his head dropped against the back of the lounge. He opened his eyes, then, and looked at Harry curiously as he called back to the two men doing the dishes.

"But he's more fun when he's undone!" There was raucous laughter from the kitchen area, and Charlie raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"You don't seem to be dissuading them from their ideas, either." Charlie said, and Harry winked at him.

"Course not. Watching you blush is adorable." Harry said, pointing at the faint red that stained Charlies face. There was the noise of a sink draining and Charlie knew that, in a few seconds, they'd be joined by his two best friends who were, apparently, totally okay with him dating a man. Well, you learn new things every day. Charlie slipped his arm between Harry and the lounge, wrapping around the thin waist and pulling Harry closer to him.

"Two can play at that game." Charlie fairly growled into Harrys hair, where he was pretty sure the boys ear was, and was satisfied with the slight shudder he received in return. From that moment, the game was on. Innuendos ranging from slight, to just barely being able to count as an innuendo were thrown about the room, and pretty soon the other Harry and Billy were in on it to. There was much fun had by the four men, even though, later, Charlie would realise that there was no longer anyway he could convince his friends that he and Harry weren't dating.

Of course, that thought didn't cross his mind at the time, because he didn't even want to convince himself that he and Harry weren't dating.

And boy, wasn't that something to firmly ignore.

..|..

The next day, Charlie wasn't sure whether to feel awkward around Harry or not. He knew he shouldn't, not really, because it was Harry who started the game last night, not him. But it had been him who'd taken it to physical contact, wrapping his arm around Harrys waist, holding the younger man close to him, rubbing his cheek against the mass of hair and generally acting glued to Harry. He just couldn't help himself, however. He knew he'd never have an actual reason to touch Harry like that, so he'd grabbed onto it (and Harry) with both hands.

Harry, however, was unconcerned. He'd enjoyed Charlies hands on approach last night. He had never really been a couple. He probably would have with Warren, except he left too soon. Logan had been possessive, but hadn't really seemed to be the cuddle in public type. In fact, not many people had known about him and Logan, and Archi…well, there hadn't exactly been an abundance of people around to be affectionate in front of.

Having Charlie practically cuddle him in front of his friends had been surprisingly nice. He didn't ever want to be a couple like Will and Layla, but maybe just hand holding in public and hugs. That would do him. Now, to find a way to get Charlie to do him… Harry got lost in that train of thought and, by the time he came out of it, he'd burnt the pancakes. Charlie came in, then, and wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Sorry, Charlie, I kinda zoned out." Harry said with a grin, which was just on the right side of being completely sexual, but Charlie only frowned.

"I'm sorry too, Harry. I took thinks too far last night. I shouldn't have. I apologise if I've made you uncomfortable." He said, completely serious, and Harry blinked.

"You're kidding." Harry deadpanned. He was not going to lose all of that progress to something so fleeting and utterly human as morals.

"No." Charlie said, and Harry rolled his eyes. Switching off the stove, moving the frying pan away from the edge, Harry took a deep breath before turning towards Charlie.

"You think that was inappropriate, Charlie?" Harry asked, taking a step towards the man. He would be taking a chance, but only a slight one, and all the odds were stacked in his favour.

"Yes. I should have stuck to banter, instead of escalating the issue." Charlie was obviously beating himself up over what he perceived as a slight against Harry. Harry, on the other hand, was quite determined to make sure that Charlie would never, ever again feel the urge to apologise for touching him.

"Well, I'll just have to even it out, then." Harry smiled, before reaching out and grabbing Charlie by the back of his head. He had a moment to enjoy the startled look on Charlies face before Harry pressed their lips together. Harry quickly licked and nipped at Charlies lips, the man opening them out of pure instinct, before he practically plundered Charlies mouth. Charlie just started to respond, his tongue barely sliding against Harrys, before the younger, shorter man pulled back and stepped away. Charlie blinked, his gaze unfocused, and Harry gave an insincere smile.

"I am terrible, completely sorry, Charlie, for escalating the situation like that. It was inappropriate." Harry said, and Charlie frowned. He stepped forward, closing the distance that Harry had opened.

"Harry." He said quite seriously, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Charlie?" He asked, and Charlie placed his hands on Harrys shoulders. Harry leant into the touch, and Charlie tightened his hold as he drew Harry even closer.

"I am sorry for last night." Harry scowled again, opening his mouth to retort, when Charlie beat him to it.

"I am most apologetic that I didn't kiss you then." Kiss was not the word that he wanted to use, oh no, there were numerous descriptors that he could have used that would have fit so much better, but Charlie didn't want to come on too strong. He pressed his mouth to Harrys, then, and they dissolved against one another. Harry soon found himself pressed against the kitchen counter, mewling softly as he rutted against Charlie. The only sounds echoing through the house were their pants and moans.

The alarm on Charlies watch started to beep, the sound grating against Harrys sensitive ears. Charlie tore his mouth away from Harrys, glaring down at his wrist.

"Shit. I have to get to work." He took a step away, only for Harry to hiss at him.

"Charlie, I swear to God if you leave me here like this, by myself, you will regret it." His voice was low and dangerous and so completely debauched that Charlies normally strong work commitment and resolve disintegrated instantly. He still tried to protest, though he knew it was feeble.

"I can't just call in sick." Yes he could. He would, he knew, but a token resistance was needed.

"You can, you will. Now. Phone." Harry demanded, and god if that didn't make Charlie hard. Normally Harry was so sweet and compliant. Token resistance over. Charlie raced to the phone, and Harry followed him casually. Charlie could feel Harrys body pressed against his back as he dialled the number for work with shaky fingers. Harry purred into the ear that didn't have a phone against it, and moved so he was pressed chest to chest with Charlie.

"Good boy, Charlie. You get a prize." And then Harry dropped to his knees. Clawed fingers deftly undid the standard issue belt, and with a simple flick the button was undone. Harry lean forward and gripped the zipper in his teeth, pulling down in a way that was probably illegal in several states. Charlie was pulled away from this by a voice at the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Charlie swallowed as he steadied himself. He couldn't moan over the phone line. They had his number, and it would freak the fuck out of whatever poor sod had picked up the phone.

"Er, hi. I-it's Charlie Swann. I'm gonna have to call in-" Charlie had been aware that his voice hadn't been the steadiest at the start of the call, but he had to cut himself off and press the phone into his jacket so he could properly stifle his moan with the other hand. Harry had him out of his pants now, and was teasing the fuck out of him. A lick here, a slight nip there.

"Charlie?" Charlie could recognise the slightly concerned voice on the other end of the phone. Dale, a friend of his, had picked up the phone. He had to finish this conversation, quickly, so he could concentrate on Harry and that sinful little mouth of his.

"Yeah, I'm here Dale. Gonna-" pause, slight hitch of breath, "Gonna have to call in sick today." Dale said something then, but Charlie wouldn't have heard anything from the other end of the line even if gunshots had been fired. Harry had just taken him into his mouth, and was looking straight up at him. His green eyes twinkled and he bobbed his head a bit. Charlie felt his knees go weak.

"Ah, yeah, Dale, sure. Whatever. I'm not gonna be in today. I'm sick. Very sick." Charlie said vacantly as Harry hands started to wander across the bottom of his stomach.

"Yeah, that's got nothing to do with what I just said." Dale said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Dale had already flicked the button to put the call on speaker phone, and Charlie hadn't even noticed. He would find out, when he next went to work, what had happened and be rightly embarrassed. At the moment, though, he was threading one hand through Harrys thick hair. He avoided the ears, not sure if Harry would appreciate him tugging on them in lieu of hair.

"Yep. I'll do that. But I won't be in today." Harry looked up at him and held up two fingers. Charlie was confused, and Harry rolled his eyes. Charlie almost whimpered as Harry let his cock slide from his mouth so he could mouth 'two days.' Charlie knew, somewhere in his mind, that he shouldn't miss two days of work. But he hardly ever used his sick days, anyway, and this seemed like a noble cause.

"I mean two days," he let out a little sigh as Harry smiled and engulfed his arching dick once more. "I'll be back in two days. Terribly sick, you see." Charlie nodded, even though Dale couldn't see it. There was muffled laughter from the other side of the line, but Charlie didn't even register it.

"Okay, see you in two days." Dale said, openly laughing now.

"Yep. Sick. Two days. Bye." And then he threw the phone towards the cradle and leant back against the wall behind him. He needed the support. He'd brushed Harrys ear and holy fuck, he could purr. Charlie let out a lewd moan and threw his head back as Harry continued to work his member.

Half a town away, in the police station, there was money exchanging hands. Regardless of Charlies best intentions, the phone hadn't quite made it into the cradle, and for a few seconds, before Dale ended the call, all that could be heard through the speaker was the absolutely shameless moans of Charlie. There had been bets placed about whether Charlie was shagging someone, and his vehement denial of having a girlfriend had only made the pool larger, and Dale would have to go to the diner to settle a few cross-work place bets. Because is turns out yes, yes he was. And thoroughly enjoying himself, as well.

..|..

Sex with Charlie was different that sex with others. Actually, Harry had never been with two people who had sex the same way. They were all very distinct men. The different thing about Charlie, however, was that he was exceedingly gentle. Always. He words were gently, his hands were gentle, his ministrations were gentle. Hell, the only thing about him that wasn't gentle, but that was only because it would break science if something that hard could be gentle at the same time. Charlie always took his time. It was almost as if the man could unconsciously sense that their time was drawing to a close, and was making the most of it.

Harry was currently lounging around, using the camera that he'd found in one of the cupboards to take pictures of everything. He really liked Charlie, and didn't want his disappearance to cause the man to go all mopey. So he was going to take as many pictures as possible to remind Charlie that they'd been very happy. Charlie hadn't been too concerned. After all, Harry took pictures during breakfast, at dinner, when they were watching TV, or out in the yard. Harry had a photo of them lying in bed together, of the bedroom itself. He'd snuck a picture of Charlie in the shower.

Charlie had caught him, and then proceeded to jump out of the shower, snatch the camera and capture the moment that he pushed a laughing Harry into the shower. Harry took photos when Harry and Billy came around to visit, and he took photos of Charlie trying to make him a romantic dinner. Charlie really shouldn't have been so surprised when Harry brought that Camera out during sex. Then he'd gotten into the spirit of things and had taken several pictures himself.

Later, Charlie would realise that the temporary indulgence would come with the price of severe embarrassment when he had the photos developed. The looks on the faces of the ladies behind the counter had made him colour worse than a tomato. Harry had laughed heartily, and had offered to go down next time. Charlie had retorted that he already did. In something that wasn't actually malicious enough to be spite, Charlie made sure to fill the entirety of the next roll of fill with pictures of Harry in compromising positions. Charlie didn't find it so fun when Harry came back with several phone numbers.

Harry looked up with a smile when Charlie walked through the front door. Night had fallen outside, and Harry waved Charlie towards where he sat. Dinner was in the fridge, Charlie had been late, and it would keep for a while yet.

"Charlie, I have something I needed to tell you." Harry had been pondering on it all day. He was going to tell Charlie about the fact of his disappearance. He wasn't going to tell the truth, hell no, but he was going to alert the man.

"Yeah?" Charlie scooped Harry up into his arms, delighting in the happy laugh, and dropped down to sit on the couch, Harry comfortably cocooned in his arms.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you." Harry said, and there was a long pause. Harry smiled reassuringly at the older man.

"It's nothing bad, is it?" Harry smiled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you that I'm underage, or anything." Not that it wasn't true, but he just wasn't going to tell Charlie.

"I might have to leave." Charlie frowned, and Harry got the feeling that the man would've preferred to have been told that Harry was only sixteen. Maybe fifteen.

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, holding Harry closer, tighter.

"Did you never wonder why you found me unconscious in the forest?" Charlie nodded, if somewhat reluctantly, and Harry nuzzled into his chest.

"I've been running. Running away from someone, and I don't think I can stop." Harry confided quietly. He wasn't technically lying to Charlie, he just wasn't disclosing the entire truth. Charlie would be pissed if he ever found out, but it was either that or go, oh yeah, and by the way, I travel throughdimensions. This was easier.

"I don't want it to catch up to me here and hurt you. I would hate it, and myself, if it hurt you." Charlie stayed silent and hugged him harder, pressing his chin into the top of Harrys head.

"One day you could come home or wake up and I won't be here. I'll be gone." Harry could hear Harrys heart thudding hard against the inside of his ribcage, and Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry, Charlie, this has been unfair to you. I shouldn't have gotten involved." Harry whispered, truly feeling bad about the heartache this man was going through.

"Don't you dare." Charlie growled, looking down into Harrys eyes.

"I will never regret any of this, ever. Not in the slightest." Harry smiled.

"I don't regret this escalation, either." Harry chuckled, and snuggled back down into the warmth Charlie provided.

"How will I know if you leave of your own free will, or if whatever's chasing you has found you?" Harry rubbed his hand over the part of Charlies chest that he wasn't resting his head on.

"Because if it's found me, my body will still be here." Harry whispered. Lie. Lie. Lie. Well, if Voldemort found him, that would be true, but hopefully Voldemort is dead by now. And besides, he'd be hard pressed to follow Harrys trail through the worlds. Harry imagined that sort of thing would be hard to track. Charlie stood, cradling Harry to his body, and walked towards the stairs. He didn't reply to that statement with words, but used his body to comfort Harry and himself.

Later that night, as they were drifting in and out of sleep, Charlie mused on growing a moustache. Harry chuckled.

"I've never been with anyone in possession of a moustache. Or anyone with facial hair, really. Well, there were side burns, but I'm not sure if that counts…" Charlie felt his curiosity spark. How many men had Harry been with? He probably shouldn't even contemplate asking that question but…

"Really? What were their distinguishing features, then?" He asked, trying to be subtle, but from the amusement radiating off Harry, he had failed dismally again.

"Well, Warren had shoulder length hair with a streak of red. He was gruff, a total bad boy. Leather jacket. Logan was a bit scruffy, around the edges. Well, not just the edges, but anyway, he had the side burns; he had a leather jacket as well. Motorbike, short hair, muscled like a bloody ox." Charlie narrowed his eyes. He couldn't help but imagine a variation of that statement. 'Hung like a bloody ox.' He closed his eyes. This was a bad idea, especially with the thought that Harry was probably going to leave him hanging over his head.

"Logan was a lot wild, actually. Feral, you could say." Harry had a bit of a chuckle, but Charlie didn't get the joke, so instead he stewed upon the images his mind could conjure of the two men he now knew Harry had been with before him. Warren was obviously a model, with fine features and beautiful hair, whereas Logan was the wild man that Charlie knew Renee used to fantasize about with the help of her books.

"There was Bruce, although I never actually had sex with Bruce." Charlie smiled at that, but the smile quickly disappeared with the next statement.

"He had a killer body though. I loved just running my fingers along it. Plus he had a ridiculous amount of money. I mean, seriously, the man had a butler. A butler! He was a sweet old man, though, always making us tea. Even though Bruce hated tea. And then there was Archi, and he was very handsome. Was a shame that we didn't speak the same language. If we did, he might have even told me that he was married before his wife came home and I found out that way." Harry was still sore about that.

Charlie kissed Harry on the lips, and Harry smiled at him. He had, maybe, given the information about his friends in the previous worlds in a manner designed to make Charlie jealous. After all, if he hadn't wanted to know, he shouldn't've asked.

"But you know something, Charlie?" Harry asked, his voice whispered as he snuggled closer to the cop. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"None of them were you."

..|..

A fortnight later, when Charlie came home from work and Harry was gone, Charlie looked through the entire house. There was no sign that Harry had been there for a few hours. Charlie sat on the lounge for hours, hoping against hope that Harry had just gone out for a run or to stock up on groceries or something. The longer the night wore on, however, the shorter his hope became.

The clock struck midnight before Charlie stood up and made his way to bed. The next day he would carefully, oh so carefully, box up the multitudes of photos that he had, and the rolls of undeveloped negatives, and place them under his bed. He kept one photo out of the box, and placed it on his dresser. He would remember Harry, the playful little cat boy, for as long as he lived.