HOOKED | charliebabe

#O4; FERAL

☆彡

Charlie returns from his morning errands to find that everything, unsurprisingly, has turned to shit. Loud threats are shouted by an unknown voice somewhere deep in the apartment, and the living room and dining room look to be quite a mess. Early this morning when Charlie woke up, he decided to tell Jeff about the stranger after he returned from his errands. This, admittedly, was mostly to allow himself time to come up with an acceptable excuse as to why he felt the need to bring home a bloodied and battered stranger in the middle of the night, but still. So much for telling Jeff when I get back, He thinks to himself, walking further into the apartment.

"Hello?!" He hollers, rushing quickly in the direction of his room, gulping shallowly at the bloody hand print on the hallway wall. The yelling becomes louder the closer he gets to his destination, and Charlie very quickly recognizes his brother's voice. At least this stranger is not a murderer, Charlie concedes with a strange relief. "Charlie, get your ass in here!" Jeff yells when Charlie is only a few feet outside the door. He speeds up, basically bounds through the confines of his room, taking in the sight before him. Good news, the stranger survived the night! Bad news, the stranger survived the night. Fuck.

"Charlie, who exactly in the ever-loving hell is this guy?! I woke up to a ruckus in the kitchen and found this asshat trying to rob us or something," Jeff says, not looking away from the stranger for even a second. "Rob you?! Please. What the hell do you have that I want, huh?!" The other man promptly screams back, crossing his bruised arms over his chest, not before thrusting a pillow in the direction of Charlie, who ducks in just enough time to avoid a pillow to the face. Successfully snapping Charlie out of his stunned daze from watching the two men argue like children, he moves closer, now standing between the two. "Woah, woah, let's all calm down for a second, yeah? Jeff this is..." Charlie looks to the stranger, who squints at him suspiciously before reluctantly muttering, "Babe." Charlie nods, "Jeff, this is Babe. Babe, Jeff. Now that introductions are over with, Jeff, how about you leave me and Babe for a second and tidy the dining room?" Charlie says calmly, careful not to trigger either of the angry, and apparently sassy, men. Jeff snarls at him, shoulder-checking him on his way out.

"I hope you only said that to get that bitch out of here, because introductions are so not over. Who the hell are you, how did I get here, and what do you want from me?!" The man — Babe — says, ever so fiercely. Charlie turns fully towards him, smiling slightly, happy to have split his sassy-man count in half (at least for now). Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful of Babe's legs, Charlie says, "My name is Charlie. I brought you here last night because me and my friends found you pretty beat up last night at the Nakhon market. I carried you here on my back," Charlie beams. Babe curls his upper lip at his enthusiasm, "You forgot to answer one of my questions." Charlie sits, thinking over the man's previous words, "Oh! I don't want anything from you, P'Babe. I was worried, so I brought you here," he says.

Babe scoffs, "Yeah, right. Why am I nude then? And where's all my shit?" And Charlie startles at the sentence; he didn't even notice Babe was still shirtless. "Oh!" And he's up, rushing all about to fetch Babe new clothes, as his ones from last night are still blood-soaked and dirty. Charlie looks away while Babe changes, only turning around when he shamefully asks for Charlie's assistance after struggling on his own for a bit with his injuries. Charlie blushes the entire way through, helping Babe pull up and button his pants, helping him thread his arms through the sleeves of his new shirt. After he's dressed, he looks at Charlie with his upper lip curved into a snarl, "Well, if that's the case, and you really don't want anything from me, I'll be taking my leave."

He attempts to stand, putting pressure on his bad hand in the process and flinching violently at the pain. Charlie could tell he was trying to suppress his reaction, and in the five minutes he's known Babe, he can tell he probably wanted to shout a few curses as well. "Uh.. P'Babe, I don't think that's a good idea," He says, wincing himself at the dark purple pigmentation of Babe's hand. Babe grumbles, "Just help me get up, will you?! You can at least have the decency to bring me back to where you found me after kidnapping me." Charlie flushes with embarrassment, wondering not for the first time if it was the right decision to help Babe out of that alleyway.

He makes another probably not that smart decision in that moment. "No, P'Babe," He says, and it takes everything in him not to flinch away from Babe's answering glare. "No, what? Help me get the fuck up!" Charlie stays rooted in place, determined to not let this stranger hurt himself even more than he already has. His bruises and wounds only became more agitated with his shifting and rapid movements, and even though Babe barely seems to notice them, Charlie knows he must be in some pain. "P'Babe, just relax for a second and listen to me, okay?" He speaks like he's attempting to tame a wild animal; he muses to himself that this is probably a pretty similar experience to that. "I'm not your Phi, don't fucking call me that!" Babe retorts loudly, attempting again to stand up and this time succeeding. He closes in on Charlie quickly, using his left hand to shove him back roughly and crowd into his space.

Charlie moves back as Babe moves closer, tripping over his own feet and eventually bracing himself against the far wall across from his bed, "Fine, I won't call you Phi, just calm down, Babe!" Of course, it doesn't do much, and if anything Babe seems to grow even more angry as the seconds tick by. As if he would rather make Charlie pay for even thinking about keeping him here against his will than just leaving while he has the chance. Which he does; his aggressive stride has put Charlie just about as far from the door as possible in the small room, leaving his route to freedom without any obstacles. Not that Charlie would even try to stop him. He cares, but not that much.

"Babe, would you just stop? You can barely even walk," Charlie gestures down to his legs, "I just want to look after you until I can be sure you'll be okay. A week, max." Babe looks at him with disbelief crowding his dark eyes, "Yeah fucking right," He mutters close to Charlie's face, shooting what Charlie believes to be his most hateful glare yet. Despite this, he backs off, and watches Charlie relax against the wall, fixing his blue flannel. "I'm being serious, P'Babe," Babe doesn't seem to notice the return of the honorific, just keeps his eyes on Charlie as he sits back down on the bed.

Charlie notices with some sadness that he really does look like a feral cat. Babe's eyes only stray from his to look down at the sheets that he fiddles with, still stained with his blood from last night. "Is this mine?" He asks finally, very quietly like he is not really intending for Charlie to hear, like he already knows the answer. So Charlie doesn't say anything, instead sits beside him again, waiting for him to speak up and make a final decision. Because even though Charlie acted all tough before, denying Babe his leave, he would never actually keep him against his will. Apart of him thinks that Babe knows that as he watches his shoulders slump in resignation. He huffs out of his nose and leans back, laying down with his back to Charlie, "There was a card in my pocket for Alan's Place. Go there and let them know I'm okay, and that I won't be around for a few days."

He doesn't say anything more, just closes his eyes as if asleep, though Charlie knows he's still awake. "Of course, P'Babe," He says, working hard to keep the growing smile on his face out of his voice and failing miserably but oh well. One sassy man taken care of, check. Charlie can hear Jeff cleaning just outside of the room, likely scrubbing at the bloody handprint Charlie noticed earlier.

One down, one to go.