𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 ~ | 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤

IV

Chapter Four:

~ Things that shouldn't happen  ~

I hummed to myself, leaning against the tile of the shower stall. The hot water cascaded over my body, washing away the salt from the ocean.

I ran my hands through my hair, allowing all of my muscles to relax as I hummed along to the familiar tune. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt this carefree, this happy.

Just then, the door to the bathroom creaked open. I didn't hear it, lost in my own little world of the song. There was a shower curtain between us, so he couldn't see me anyway.

He must have been coming in to get something, and he would have been able to slip in and out without me noticing if it hadn't been for the fact that he began to sing along with me.

It took me a moment to register that the deeper tone was not coming from my own lips.

I gasped turning off the water and peeking around the edge of the shower curtain. Sure enough, Charles was standing there, his back to me as he rummaged through a towel rack. He was singing too, his voice deeper and richer than I would have ever guessed.

"Leclerc!" I accused, making him turn his head calmly in my direction. His gaze met mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"Yes, amour?" He smiled innocently.

Honestly, if he kept looking at me like that, I was sure he could convince me that I was the one intruding on his privacy and not vice versa. I couldn't help but feel a little flustered.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded, pulling the shower curtain closer around my neck. He turned to face me fully, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'm just getting some things from the linen closet." His tone was like, but there was something else there too. A sparkle in his eye that made me feel warm and fuzzy.

"Don't call me sweetheart when I'm fully naked, you perv," I shot back. There was no way I was showing him any more of my body than I already had. He just laughed, that deep, rich laugh that seemed to echo through the bathroom.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Charles replied, using the same pet name that had set me off in the first place, "I'm not looking. I just came in to get a towel." He reached over and grabbed one off the rack, turning back to face me as he did.

"Are you going to get the hell out or do I need to kick you out myself?" I asked, feeling a blush creep up my neck.

"Oh, please do." He grinned, taking another step closer.

"Back it up, Percival," I told him firmly.

"Is it bad that I love it when you call me that?" He asked, all talk of him leaving forgotten. I raised an eyebrow at him, even as my cheeks burned.

"Yes. It's supposed to make you mad." I huffed, now starting to feel a little cold.

"If I pretend to hate it," he said slowly, as if carefully considering the idea, "do you promise to keep calling me Percival?" His voice was so soft, almost conspiratorial.

"I will never promise you anything." I narrowed my eyes at him. "Now could you actually pass me a towel? I'm freezing here."

He smiled, almost pleased with himself, as he reached behind him and pulled out a soft, plush towel from the linen closet. "Deal," he said softly, stepping closer again. He held the towel out to me, his eyes never leaving mine. "Here you go, darling."