“Harvey, we have been over this. It just isn’t my thing.”

“But they’re so good! I don’t understand how you can be fine with science fiction, but not with fantasy. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, what makes no sense is that people keep lumping those two in the same category just because they’re both popular with nerds.” Maru sighed heavily, and Harvey knew the battle was already lost, despite his best efforts. “Sci-fi is speculative. It could happen, it just hasn’t yet. Fantasy is just made-up. Honestly, I’m surprised someone with a mind as scientific as yours is so willing to read that garbage.”

“I’m surprised someone with a mind as brilliant as yours has so little imagination,” Harvey retorted, and then immediately dodged the wad of paper Maru threw at his head. His worn copy of Lev Grossman’s The Magicians lay on the counter between them, the source of their debate—not for the first time. He just wanted someone in this town to read a book he liked, so he could talk about it with them. He’d actually considered starting a book club, but he doubted his taste in literature would mesh well with the only other bookworms he knew of in town (Penny, who he usually saw toting around 19th-century British literature, and Jodi, Gus and Caroline, who seemed to favor books that made them cry). He’d seen Sebastian and Abigail reading A Song of Ice and Fire books now and again, but his attempts to start a conversation had been met with one-word answers, so he’d given up.

“I have plenty of imagination, thanks. I just choose to spend it on inventions. Go bother Charlie with your wizards and wands, I’m sure he’d be interested.”

Harvey picked the book up, struggling to let it go. He tried his best, but pedantry won out, and be blurted, “They actually don’t use wands in this series, it’s just—”

“Yoba, go away,” Maru groaned, and Harvey did, deciding maybe a walk would do him some good. The last three days had been stormy, but today was clear, and considerably cooler than it had been before the rain. As he stood in the square, stretching a little, a familiar voice from his right nearly made him drop his book.

“Are you wearing sun protection? Somebody told me the skin is our largest organ and shouldn’t be neglected,” called Charlie, and Harvey fought down the grin that attempted to take over his face. He turned to see Charlie striding toward him across the square, a little stiffly perhaps, but none the worse for wear. Harvey had to stifle a laugh at his outfit: he had apparently hacked the ruined legs off his jeans just above the knee, and not very evenly.

“You can’t borrow them, just so you know,” he added, smirking, and Harvey finally let the laugh out.

“Damn,” he said, “and here I was just thinking how professional they’d make me look.”

“Turns out when you dig around in the dirt all day, pretty much any clothes are professional.” Charlie stopped beside him and smiled, nodding down at his book. “The Magicians. That’s the one you mentioned in your letter, right?”

Harvey felt a flush of pleasure that Charlie had remembered anything he’d written. “It is. It’s very good, although Maru doesn’t believe me.”

“Too geeky for her?”

“Wrong kind of geeky.”

“Ah. Well, if you say it’s good, I trust your judgment. I’ll have to see if the library has it.” Charlie smiled, and Harvey seized his opportunity.

“Why don’t you just take mine?” he offered, holding it out. “I’ve got all three, just bring it back when you’re done and I’ll give you the sequel.”

“Oh, well if you’re sure…” Charlie took the book, tucking it carefully into his backpack. While he zipped it back up, Harvey stole a glance at his legs. The bandages were inexpertly wrapped, but looked new and clean; he couldn’t see any red flags for infection, at least not at a distance.

“Are you just in town running some errands?” he asked. Charlie finished with his backpack and turned back to him, the corners of his mouth turned up.

“I came to see you, actually,” he said, and Harvey’s heart leapt into overdrive. To see me? “If you have a sec, I wondered if you could check my legs and let me know if I’m cleared to start leaving the bandages off. They’re driving me nuts.”

A doctor visit. Of course. “Oh.”

“And then I thought I’d buy you lunch as a thank-you for fixing me up after hours the other night,” he added, his smile widening. Harvey cursed himself for being so transparent.

“Oh?”

They made their way back into the clinic, Harvey determinedly ignoring Maru’s knowing smirk at the lack of a book in his hand. Charlie made small talk about the farm and the weather while Harvey carefully unwrapped his legs. He’d been taking good care of them; they weren’t healing as quickly as they could if he stayed out of the heat, but they weren’t infected, either. The progress was better than he’d feared, since Charlie had a worrying tendency not to take care of himself.

“Let me just get a couple of vitals, if that’s okay,” Harvey said, taking the stethoscope from around his neck. “I should’ve gotten them the other night, but I was trying to get you in bed. Home! Home and to bed,” he stammered, mentally kicking himself.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Charlie agreed. Harvey stood and leaned forward, sliding the stethoscope under the collar of Charlie’s shirt and trying desperately not to think about sun-tanned pectoral muscles. The thought was driven from his mind, though, by the unexpected speed of Charlie’s heart rate.

“Hmm...your pulse is high,” he commented, squinting as he listened for any subtle arrhythmias. Did Charlie have a heart problem? It was too high for the resting rate of a man under 30 in good health—

“I’m just a little nervous,” Charlie said, echoing strangely through the stethoscope.

“Oh, do medical situations bother you?” He hadn’t gotten that impression the other night, but then, Charlie had been in terrible pain. Maybe his nervousness had taken a back seat.

“No, not usually,” Charlie muttered, almost as though he were talking to himself. Harvey felt, if anything, more confused. But it wasn’t a doctor’s job to pry, and Charlie didn’t seem keen on offering more information, so Harvey let it go.

“You’re cleared to be bandage-free,” he declared, sitting back and stripping off his gloves. Charlie let out a sigh of relief, leaning back on his hands. “Just be careful not to get dirt in your wounds; they could still get infected. And don’t let them sunburn.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie intoned, and that probably shouldn’t have interested Harvey as much as it did. He coughed, trying to cover the little shake he gave his head to clear it. “I didn’t think this through very well. I was going to suggest we go to the Stardrop, but I think I’m pretty unappetizing to look at right now.” He kicked his feet up to illustrate, scowling at his scabby legs. Privately, Harvey agreed the cutoff jorts and huge red scabs weren’t a great look—but they were still attached to the rest of Charlie, who would never be unappetizing to him.

“It’s definitely a step down from Gus,” Harvey began tentatively, “but I was going to make a sandwich for lunch. I could make two, and we could go eat outside somewhere…?”

Charlie sighed good-naturedly, rubbing a hand over his face. “How did this turn into you doing me another favor?”

“Read that book and talk to me about it. That’s at least six favors right there.”

“Deal.”

Harvey left Charlie down in the waiting room to talk to Maru while he made sandwiches, wishing he had something more interesting to offer for lunch—but honestly, it was a miracle he even had food in his apartment at all. Throwing the food and a few cans of fizzy water in a bag, he headed back downstairs to collect his lunch date (not a date, not a date, stop it). “Ready?”

“I’ll just hold down the fort here, don’t worry about me,” Maru called after them as they left, and Harvey threw her a withering look over his shoulder.

Out in the sunshine, Charlie squinted around the square. “Were you thinking of any place in particular?”

“Well, we can go wherever you want, but...I usually eat by the fountain on nice days.”

“Good call.” Charlie set off in that direction, and Harvey followed, feeling suddenly awkward. They’d talked easily the night Charlie had come into the clinic, but Harvey had been focused on his work; he hadn’t had to worry about where to look or what to do with his hands, or his constant fear that he’d let something casually slip out about how badly he wanted to kiss Charlie into the middle of next week. He supposed he could always fall back on medical advice—it was boring, but it would break the silence.

“Have you been taking care of yourself? Sleeping and hydrating enough?”

“God, no,” Charlie replied, laughing. “Sorry, doc, but you’re going to have to give up on that question. I’m a lost cause.”

“Well, as long as you stay out of monster-infested mines.” He chuckled, but Charlie didn’t; turning to look at him, he saw that the farmer was carefully avoiding his gaze. “You aren’t going back in there, are you?”

Charlie hedged, biting his lip. Harvey tried valiantly not to get distracted by this. “Well…”

Realization struck Harvey like a train. “You already have! Charlie!”

“It was raining yesterday! I didn’t have anything to do around the farm, and anyway I had to go back for the stuff I dropped last time.” He jerked a thumb at his backpack. “Don’t worry, I came prepared this time. That weird guy Marlon sold me a club.”

Harvey gaped at him, his indignation forgotten. “A club?”

“Or maybe it’s a mace? I don’t really know my blunt objects. It’s long and heavy and slimes pop when you hit them with it.”

Harvey felt dazed, almost walking into the fountain in his distracted state. Once he’d dropped onto the bench, he took off his glasses to clean them on his shirt—a flustered habit Maru had pointed out, but one he didn’t seem to be able to stop. “Charlie,” he said slowly, “I’m pretty sure Marlon and those other guys—the Adventurers’ Guild, or whatever they call themselves—they’re just really intense roleplayers. The Valley’s version of civil war reenactors.”

Charlie dug into the bag, extracting his drink and sandwich with a shake of his head. “No, they’re definitely serious. I mean, it doesn’t seem like they actually do anything, but they keep a tally on the wall of all the monsters they’ve killed, supposedly. And man have they got a lot of weapons stashed in that clubhouse.” He took a bite of his sandwich, making an appreciative noise. “Thanks for this, Harvey, I’m starving.”

Maybe it was time for a change of subject; Harvey wasn't sure how he could talk about this any longer without losing his mind. The mine was full of monsters, and that group of weird old men in the mountains were hunting them. Charlie had a medieval weapon and possibly a fetish for danger. It was a lot to think about. “You’re welcome.”

“Although, come to think of it, we probably should have eaten back at your apartment. So you could tell me about your planes?” he added, seeing Harvey’s confusion. Harvey felt his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh! I, uh...ha, you know, I thought you were just being polite,” he confessed, running his fingers through his hair. “You actually wanted to see them?”

Charlie tilted his head a little, looking curious. “Well, yeah,” he said, as though it should have been obvious. “You’re so into them, I wanted to know more. Why planes, anyway?” He went back to his sandwich, breaking eye contact, which let Harvey breathe a little easier. How deep should he get into this? How much did Charlie really want to know? He remembered the conversation about Philip, how Charlie had seemed genuinely pleased to know more about Harvey’s past, and decided to venture just a little bit more.

“I always wanted to be a pilot,” he began, picking at his sandwich. “Turns out you can’t do that with terrible vision...or a crippling fear of heights.” His mouth twisted up in an ironic smile. He’d stopped being depressed about it years ago, but it was still a little hard to talk about.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charlie said, looking as though he meant it. “Why did you want to be a pilot if you’re afraid of heights, though?”

“The short answer? Freedom.” He sat back, tilting his face up to feel the sunshine. “I, well, I didn’t have the happiest childhood, and. I was always envious of people who could just fly off into the sunset. I thought I could get past the fear, and maybe I could have...but it’s tough to get past eyesight as bad as mine.”

He ventured a glance at Charlie, who gazed at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always prying into something you might not want to talk about,” he said. Harvey shook his head, the corner of his mustache quirking up ruefully.

“It isn’t your fault. My past is mostly sort of an unhappy one, I suppose.”

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to,” Charlie said gently, looking down at the bench between them. Harvey found himself mesmerized by the way the sunlight glinted off the golden strands in his hair, the graceful curve of his bent neck. “But for what it’s worth, I’d like to hear whatever you want to tell me.”

Harvey struggled. He wanted to tell Charlie about his life, he realized. He wanted the intimacy that came from really knowing someone, from seeing them and being seen. On the other hand, their friendship—if that was how Charlie thought of it—was still so new, Harvey worried about putting too much weight on it. The last thing he wanted was for Charlie to think of him as a sad old man.

He decided to keep the details to himself for now. “Another time,” he suggested, giving a quick little smile. “It’s a beautiful day, and I’d hate to ruin it with all that. I’ll tell you later.”

“On a really gross day when we’re already in a bad mood?” Charlie joked, and if he was disappointed, he hid it well. Harvey nodded, relieved he’d let it go so easily.

“Absolutely.”

“I look forward to it.” Charlie took another bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “So. Do you actually like being a doctor, then?”

“Oh, yes.” Harvey picked his own sandwich back up; he was going to starve before he finished monologuing, if he wasn't careful. “Not everyone’s dreams come true. That doesn’t mean that what you get instead is necessarily bad, or wrong for you. I mean, did you dream of being a farmer?”

Charlie outright laughed at this, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, God, no. This is definitely a weird left turn.”

“But you’re happy here, right?” For the first time, it occurred to him that Charlie might not be. Yoba, please let him say yes. He can’t go back to the city, not now.

To his immense relief, Charlie nodded, looking at Harvey over his can with warmth in his eyes. “I am. It’s been a big change, but...I actually really like the work, and this town.”

“Does it feel like home?”

Charlie’s eyes hadn’t moved from Harvey’s face, and he tried not to read anything into that. It was difficult, particularly when Charlie responded without looking away, “It’s starting to.”

In the end it was Harvey who had to look away; holding Charlie’s gaze was like looking directly into the sun, and he felt too exposed. He tried for a slight change of topic. “If not a farmer, what did you actually want to be?”

It worked. “Oh, you can probably guess that one,” he grinned. “I wanted to be a captain in Starfleet. Didn’t have to be the Enterprise, necessarily, as long as I got my own ship.”

“Why on Earth did I go with ‘pilot’?” Harvey asked in mock regret. “Obviously I should have thought bigger. Maybe I could have been your first officer.”

“It’s not too late,” Charlie insisted. “Space travel gets more advanced all the time. There’s hope for us yet, Number One.”

Of all the endearments Harvey had imagined being called by Charlie, that one had never crossed his mind, but he felt absurdly pleased all the same. “You’ve got a point.” Something occurred to him, something he’d wanted to ask Charlie for weeks. “You said you went to business school, didn’t you? What made you choose that? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem the type, really.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.” For the first time, Charlie looked uncomfortable, and Harvey began to regret asking. Was he prying now? But after a long drink of his water, Charlie answered. “I didn’t really choose it. My dad was an executive at a telecommunications company, and he pushed me really hard to follow in his footsteps. I...didn’t have any better ideas, to be honest,” he said sheepishly, glancing up at Harvey beneath his eyebrows. “He died before I even started college, so I could have done whatever, I guess. But...it was easier, in some ways, just to do what I’d been told.”

“I’m sorry,” Harvey said, feeling the statement inadequate. Charlie waved a hand dismissively.

“We weren’t close,” he said, shrugging. “He was more married to his job than anything else, really. I never wanted that for myself, I’m not sure why I stayed the course for as long as I did.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m glad to have finally made my own decision. It’s not exactly a starship, but at least I’m sort of the captain, I guess?”

“Definitely. Did the farm belong to your father’s father, or—”

“No, no way. That was my mom’s dad. She grew up here, met my dad when she went away for college.” Charlie popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Actually, my dad would have hated for me to end up here. Just between us, that might have been a tiny bit of the appeal.”

Harvey laughed at this, feeling the mood lighten a little. “It’s okay if it was more than a tiny bit,” he assured Charlie. “I won’t tell anyone that you’re raising chickens out of spite.”

“Much appreciated.” They’d both finished their food now, and Harvey knew there was no reason to keep lingering around the fountain together; Charlie would want to get back to work, surely. Still, it was the longest they’d ever spent together without an injury involved, and Harvey was loathe to say his goodbyes. He’d just resigned himself to heading back to the clinic, working up to wishing Charlie a nice day, when Charlie leaned back on the bench and crossed one leg over his knee as though he had nowhere else to be in the world.

“So,” he began brightly, “tell me what this magician book is actually about?”

^°^°^°^°^°^°^°^

After the intense pressure of the Flower Dance, Charlie had been a bit leery of the Luau. It seemed too close in theme: an outdoor dance, this time with a VIP attendee (the governor, who Charlie didn’t really care about but Lewis seemed desperate to impress). He’d been instructed by a letter from Lewis to bring something to add to the potluck soup. Then, a few days later, Lewis had cornered him at Pierre’s and upgraded it to “something good.” The day before the festival, the mayor had actually dropped by the farm and more or less begged him to bring the best produce he had. Charlie had recently started growing mushrooms in the cave on his property—Demetrius had come and set it up, something about monitoring the environmental conditions, Charlie had tuned out after you can sell the mushrooms— and so he’d set aside a fistful of the best-looking chanterelles and morels for the soup.

Actually, the event hadn’t been bad at all. The governor turned out to be a friendly guy, not the oily, starchy bureaucrat Charlie had pictured. The soup had been very good and the governor had complimented it, although Charlie noticed that Lewis didn’t look entirely happy. As per usual, all of Gus’s food was delicious, and the dancing was strictly voluntary—most of the day, the dance floor was dominated by married couples and by Emily, dancing blissfully on her own. Charlie had no idea if she was drunk or just being her slightly odd self, but he supported her either way.

He knew he’d been a bit antisocial lately, what with the rush to get summer crops in and his injuries, so he took the opportunity to actually talk to his neighbors. Abigail, Sebastian and Sam perched on the end of the dock, passing around a cigarette (at least it looked like a cigarette, though Charlie wasn't sure it smelled like one). Elliott and Leah kept inching closer to the door of his cabin, and Charlie got the distinct impression they wanted everyone to go home. He made small talk with Clint for a while about his newfound weapon proficiency, and it was nice to hear the blacksmith talk about something other than Emily or his aches and pains for once.

“I think it might be easier to take out slimes with something sharper,” Clint was saying.

“Yeah, I think so too,” Charlie said as he poured himself another drink, “but then I’d be carrying a literal sword around. Like, how deep into this Tomb Raider roleplay do I want to get?”

“You are literally fighting monsters in an underground cave, though,” Clint pointed out. “Aren’t you kind of past roleplaying at this point?”

“You’re not wrong there.”

He drifted over to talk seeds with Pierre, who had a lot of ideas for what Charlie should plant during the fall. Charlie wished he liked Pierre more; the man was friendly enough, but he was so salesy, always managing to turn any conversation back to the store. It was too bad he hated Joja so much, Charlie thought, because he was a pretty natural fit for their style of business. Caroline wasn't much better—it was obvious that she disapproved of Abigail’s relationship (relationship?) with Sebastian, and kept trying to push her at Charlie. He felt a little indignant on Abigail’s behalf. Aside from the fact that he ran a farm, Caroline didn’t know anything about Charlie—the entire thing could have been a front for the mob, as far as she knew.  But from his few conversations with Sebastian, Charlie had picked up the feeling that he was desperate to get out of Pelican Town, so maybe Caroline was equally desperate for her daughter to find a reason to stay. (Charlie thought Caroline probably needed to worry a little bit more about Abigail’s interest in swordfighting than her interest in Sebastian.)

During his discussion with Pierre about the merits of eggplants versus pumpkins, Charlie’s eyes drifted past him to the fire on the edge of the beach, where Linus was cooking something on a spit. Harvey and Maru stood nearby, laughing about something; Charlie felt the corners of his own mouth turn up, seeing the doctor so happy. Just as they had at the Flower Dance, their eyes met—but this time, Harvey’s expression didn’t turn melancholy. On the contrary, he gave Charlie a warm smile and a little wave. Charlie returned it, and Maru turned to grin at him.

“Got your eye on someone, eh?” Pierre asked knowingly, nudging Charlie in the ribs. Charlie jumped a mile; he’d sort of forgotten Pierre was there. “Well, I can’t say I blame you. That Maru is a pretty girl, and smart as a whip.”

Charlie put his hands up in front of him, stammering. “Oh, it’s not—that’s—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Pierre gave him a conspiratorial wink, then leaned in closer. “If I were you, though, I’d get a move on. I think Dr. Harvey’s been sweet on her for ages, and he might actually get up the nerve to ask one of these days.” He chuckled, and Charlie let out a bark of hysterical laughter that probably echoed down the entire beach. Over Pierre’s shoulder, he saw Harvey and Maru looking at him curiously.

“Ha, okay,” Charlie managed, and held up his empty cup. “Look at that, I’m all out of punch! Better go get a refill, see you around, Pierre.” Before the shopkeeper could say another word, Charlie turned and fled toward the drinks. Shane was, naturally, installed beside the punch bowl, watching the proceedings with a glowering expression. He brightened a little as Charlie approached, his shoulders coming down from his ears.

“Having fun?” he asked, as Charlie nearly dove headfirst into the punch.

“Jesus,” Charlie groaned. “If I even look at a woman, the village elders start planning our wedding. How did you deal with this when you were the new guy in town?”

Shane snorted, gesturing to himself with his drink. “Farm boy. Look at me. I make minimum wage, and I’m the first half of a Prozac commercial come to life. Nobody was hoping to marry their little girl off to this, believe me.”

“But they don’t even know me!” Charlie protested, fully aware that he still sounded a little hysterical, but powerless to stop himself. “The only things they know are that I have a farm, a tiny house, and a dog. I could be a horrible monster who, I don’t know, gets his jollies sending death threats to celebrities on Twitter.”

“You’d be a gainfully-employed, property-owning monster who’s polite to your elders, so as long as you bring a nice gift at Feast of the Winter Star and keep a roof over their kid’s head, I think you can send as many shitty tweets as you want,” Shane replied. Charlie let out a huff of frustration, staring into his punch.

“I wish this were stronger,” he muttered, and felt a light tap against his arm. He looked up to see Shane holding out a small steel flask, not looking at him.

“Wish granted,” he said, and Charlie gratefully poured a good glug of a brown spirit—whiskey?—into his cup, where it turned the punch an extremely unappetizing color.

“God, you’re the best,” he said fervently, handing the flask back. Shane lifted it, apparently weighing how much was left; then, with a shrug, he poured the rest of the contents into his mouth. He swallowed, wiping the back of his arm over his lips.

“I was a Junimo Scout back in the day,” he said, smirking. “The only lesson I really took home was to always be prepared.” Charlie laughed, and Shane pushed himself off the table, setting his cup down as he went. “If I get any more sunlight, I might die. I’m heading home.”

“Say hi to the cows for me.”

Shane hesitated, looking back at him. “You want to come? I got that new racing game, Faster Car 2. Don’t know if it’s any good, but nobody will harass you about your marital plans.”

The offer was appealing; Charlie was determined not to discuss his love life with anyone else today, and getting drunk in Shane’s room seemed as good a way as any to avoid it. But the party was clearly breaking up, people heading back to town in pairs and little groups, and Charlie noticed that Harvey seemed to be lingering. Maru had left with her parents, and the doctor stood by the edge of the water, staring out at the sunset over the waves.

“I’ll stay put, I think. Should see if Gus and Marnie need any help cleaning up, you know. Next time.” Shane made a dismissive gesture that clearly said it’s your funeral and began walking away. “Are we still on for Friday night? Going for the high score on Prairie King?”

“Be there at 8,” Shane called over his shoulder, and Charlie waved to his retreating back. It would be polite, he supposed, to actually offer his help; he shuffled dutifully over to where Gus and Marnie were disassembling the soup cauldron.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet,” Marnie gushed when he offered. “You know, I think we’ve got it under control, but thank you so much for asking!”

“Go enjoy the beautiful evening,” Gus added, helping her roll the enormous pot off its scaffold. His duty discharged, Charlie headed down the beach toward Harvey.

Charlie had thought about him (and, on some days, very little else) since their lunch by the fountain. He was pleased at how much Harvey was opening up to him, aside from the dodge about his childhood. Charlie couldn’t blame him, though; in fact, he wondered if he had said too much about his dad and the expectations he’d grown up with. But Harvey hadn’t seemed put off by it, had just gone on asking questions in that shy way of his. And then there was the hour they’d spent on less serious topics, talking about books and movies. The book he’d given Charlie really was good, and he was looking forward to discussing it with him once he’d finished.

Harvey had taken his jacket off, slinging it over one shoulder, and rolled up his sleeves. Beyond that, he hadn’t changed his wardrobe for the luau at all, and Charlie wondered if he’d spent the whole day sweating half to death. It had been hot enough in Charlie’s outfit of shorts and a tank (real shorts this time, not the cutoff jorts), though he was grateful he could finally expose his calves without terrifying the citizenry. All that remained of his slime adventure were a few faint pink circles, and he’d managed not to accrue any new ones on his increasingly frequent trips into the mines. It was difficult to describe how intriguing it was, not knowing what he’d find on the next floor, or the next. What had started out as a necessary chore had turned into a fairly exhilarating hobby. He was starting to understand why Indy Jones and Lara Croft were so into it.

Charlie pulled up beside Harvey, joining him in looking out at the waves. “Lost in thought?” he asked the doctor, and saw him smile out of the corner of his eye.

“As always,” Harvey replied, turning toward him a little. “Did you enjoy the Luau?”

“Um,” Charlie said, and Harvey’s gaze sharpened. “The food was good,” he said feebly. Harvey laughed, covering his mouth.

“That’s about how I feel. The villagers mean well, but it can be a little...overwhelming.”

“They seem very convinced that I’ve come to town solely to find a wife,” Charlie said darkly, and instantly regretted it. Hadn’t he just promised himself not to talk about his love life any more today?

“And...you aren’t interested in that?” Harvey seemed to be treading carefully, and Charlie wondered if it meant anything. Was he just trying to avoid being offensive, or did he hope for a certain answer? Stop overanalyzing everything he says, Charles. You’re going to drive yourself insane.

“I’m definitely not interested in being set up with anyone,” Charlie finally answered, and Harvey nodded sympathetically.

“People...speculated a lot, in the beginning, about me. I’m not sure if they got bored, or if they just wrote me off as a hopeless case, but nobody’s given me any trouble about it in years. They’ll lose interest eventually,” Harvey assured him with a tight smile. Charlie thought he understood why Harvey looked so pained. As obnoxious as it was to be the center of attention, it was probably just as painful to be totally ignored.

Charlie didn’t think either of them needed to talk about this subject any further today. “Want to take a walk with me?” he suggested to Harvey on impulse, and tilted his head down the beach, in the direction of the docks. Harvey looked surprised, but nodded.

“Okay.”

They strolled along the beach in silence for a while, looking out at the setting sun. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down here,” Charlie ventured finally. Harvey grimaced, lifting one of his feet to knee level.

“Honestly, I kind of hate sand,” he confessed. “It’s always getting in my shoes and socks, it drives me crazy.”

Charlie laughed, picking up his own bare foot and wiggling his toes. “You could always take your shoes off,” he pointed out. “That’s kind of why people walk on the beach.”

Harvey looked embarrassed, and Charlie felt bad for teasing him. “I know. Truth be told, I have a hard time letting my hair down, so to speak, at these festivals. I’m their doctor, you know?” He shrugged, thrusting his free hand into his pocket. “I suppose I feel I should maintain professionalism. Hard to do in swim trunks and bare feet.”

“But this is your home,” Charlie said gently. “You might work here, but you live here, too. Why shouldn’t you get to take off the stethoscope once in a while?”

Harvey smiled at the ground, but it wasn't a happy expression. “I don’t know that anyone is interested in me without it,” he said ruefully, and Charlie stopped in his tracks. It took Harvey a moment to notice that he’d gotten ahead; when he did, he turned to look back at Charlie.

“That’s not true,” Charlie argued, as firmly as he could manage. “You have friends here, Harvey. Maru cares about you a lot, and...me. I care.”

Harvey gazed impassively at Charlie for a long moment, not speaking; Charlie gazed back as steadily as he could manage. At last, Harvey bent down, reaching for his shoes. He untied them and slipped them off, then removed his socks and tucked them inside. When he’d gotten them settled at a safe distance from the water, he turned back in the direction they’d been headed and resumed walking again. Charlie followed, a bubble of happiness he couldn’t explain expanding in his chest.

“This is better,” Harvey admitted, and Charlie let out a soft laugh.

They meandered onto the ancient dock, heading toward the end of the pier by unspoken agreement. Charlie didn’t speak; the air between them felt charged, somehow, and he wondered if Harvey felt it too. Surely it couldn’t just be him. The foot of space between their dangling hands seemed to crackle with electricity, and Charlie wondered what would happen to it if he reached over and closed the gap.

He wanted to, if he was being honest with himself. His reasons for maintaining his distance were seeming flimsier all the time, and he wasn't sure he’d be able to keep it up much longer. But beyond his own reasons, he still wasn't sure how Harvey felt. Their interactions had developed a degree of intimacy he hadn’t yet shared with anyone else in town, not even Shane, who he considered to be his best friend. Things had taken on a flirtatious tone a few times, and he was sure he wasn't imagining it. But he knew Harvey was lonely, and he wondered whether the doctor intended to flirt with him, or if it was just his lack of social interaction making him seem more interested than he really was. It was terrifying to imagine taking that leap, declaring his interest in Harvey at the risk of ruining the friendship they’d built.

They reached the end of the dock, and without any real plan, Charlie sat down. The structure floated high enough that his toes just barely skimmed the water. After a moment, Harvey sat down beside him, and Charlie noted with amusement that Harvey’s feet were submerged up to the ankle. Am I really that short? Or is he just that tall?

The sun had set now, and the stars were beginning to twinkle into view. At this hour, the ocean was fairly calm, and its surface reflected the star-studded vastness above; it all appeared to go on forever, stretching as far as Charlie could see. A light breeze stirred his hair, and he tilted his face into it, savoring the coolness.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Charlie said, and Harvey made a sound of agreement beside him. They watched the water for a few minutes, Charlie feeling the old, dull ache he always did when he visited this beach.

“When I come out here,” he began, his voice barely louder than the breeze, “I wonder how my mother could ever have left.”

He could sense Harvey looking at him, but kept his eyes fixed out over the waves; it was easier to talk about this stuff, about things that actually meant something, if they weren’t looking at each other. “You said she went away to school, and then she met your father?”

“Yeah, and then they moved to the city, and she never came here again,” Charlie said. “But I don't think she ever liked the city. It was all for him. It just...doesn’t seem worth it.”

Harvey drew a breath, then let it out again. Charlie could tell he was choosing his words carefully, and kept silent to give him space. “We all make sacrifices for love,” he said at last, sighing. Charlie stole a glance at him; he was staring into the water at his feet, looking miles away. “You just have to hope the benefits outweigh them.”

Charlie didn’t want to pry, but he was desperately curious; he knew about Philip, of course, but other than the fact that he’d had a shitty boyfriend at one point, Harvey’s past was a mystery. “Speaking from experience?” he asked, hoping Harvey wouldn’t take offense. The doctor gave a little nod, looking out over the water.

“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “it’s worth anything just to feel...wanted.”

It didn’t really answer any of his questions, but the statement squeezed at Charlie’s heart just the same. More than ever, he wanted to reach across the dock and take Harvey’s hand, but it felt like the wrong time: Harvey needed a friend right now, not a tentative romantic gesture. He settled for shuffling a little bit closer on the edge of the dock. He needed to come up with something useful to say, something wise-sounding and comforting, something that made it clear he was really listening.

“Philip was an idiot,” was what came out instead. Charlie cursed himself, but Harvey laughed a little, clearly surprised by the change in tone. He finally met Charlie’s eyes.

“He was,” he agreed. “I’m sure he still is. Unfortunately, he has an incredible talent for sniffing out loneliness and low self-esteem, and those were kind of my defining traits in my twenties. I…” He swallowed, and even through the dim light Charlie could see his face flushing red. “It sounds pathetic, I know, but back then I preferred not to know if he was cheating on me. As long as he came home every night—well, most nights—I could pretend everything was fine. I’m not making any sense,” Harvey added, a little defensively, and Charlie shook his head.

“I think I get it,” he assured him.

Harvey hesitated, fiddling with a little piece of worn wood that stuck up from the dock. At last, he said, “You’re easy to talk to, Charlie. I...value your friendship.” He glanced nervously at Charlie, who did his best to look warm and attentive, trying not to broadcast the pounding in his chest. “I know I’ve danced around some things, and if it’s all right with you, I’d like to just—get them out in the open. Tell you the story, and then we can forget about it and move on to happier topics. Is that all right?”

Charlie nodded, feeling a curious mixture of anticipation and dread. He wanted to know everything, but it was clear Harvey wasn't looking forward to telling him, and he worried what that meant. “Anything you want to tell me, Harvey. I’m listening.”

“Well.” Harvey took a deep breath. “My parents died in the First War. My mother was a soldier, my father a humanitarian worker. I was eighteen months old when she was deployed, and he followed her to the front lines. I was left in the care of an uncle, my father’s younger brother. He had never wanted children, and resented being asked to look after me, but my father insisted. He was my only family, you see.

“After the attack that killed my parents, my uncle became my legal guardian. I’m told he actually attempted to give me up for adoption, but the orphanages were so clogged with children from the war, he couldn’t find one that would take me in. He kept me, very begrudgingly, until I turned six and he could send me off to boarding school.”

“At six?” Charlie interjected, incredulous. The corner of Harvey’s mustache lifted.

“Oh, yes. It was very expensive, as he reminded me every time we spoke. Which wasn't often; as soon as I was out of his house, he did his best to forget I existed, beyond paying the bills for school.”

“What an asshole,” Charlie growled.

“It’s all right. For a while, it was actually better. I had a few friends, and when I reached my early teens I started spending summers at another boy’s house. But I...misinterpreted his interest in me, and he ended our friendship. He was decent enough not to spread rumors around the entire school, though it turned out most of my friends were actually just his friends.” Harvey smiled, a brittle, hard expression, and continued. “I worked as hard as I could and graduated early, and went to medical school on a full scholarship. When I turned eighteen, a box arrived at my dorm with all of my belongings and a note from my uncle, giving me a few thousand gold and an instruction never to contact him again. And aside from a few trysts here and there in school and residency, that was it for my relationships until I met Philip.” He sighed. “So you see how I ended up with him. He could smell the loneliness on me from a mile away.”

“Harvey…” Charlie had absolutely no idea what to say. It seemed vitally important that he say something— the last thing he wanted was for Harvey to think he’d overshared, when Charlie was actually deeply moved that he’d told him everything—but every word he could think of sounded thin and inadequate. He was so angry, so indignant, that this kind and gentle man had been so neglected and mistreated. The fury was making it difficult to put a comforting sentence together. Before he could think of anything, Harvey put him out of his misery.

“Charlie. It’s all right, honestly. I’ve been on my own for decades now. I’m used to it.” He hitched an unconvincing smile onto his face. “One of the best benefits of adulthood is that I can surround myself with people who do want me around now. I try not to spend much time thinking about those who didn’t.” Charlie’s face must have looked skeptical, because Harvey tried again. “It’s part of why I choose to live in Pelican Town. I’m needed here; it feels good.”

Charlie felt something loosen in his chest; Harvey was right, at least he’d found his place in the world. He managed a smile, a little sad, but genuine. “I keep thinking you’re such a strong person, and then every time you tell me about yourself I find out you’re even stronger than I knew,” he said. Harvey looked taken aback at this, but he blushed again, which Charlie took as a good sign.

“You’re very kind, Charlie.”

“I mean it, though. You’ve been through so much, and you just keep going. I really admire that.” He thought for a moment, mulling over the new information Harvey had given him. He could see where the shyness and social anxiety came from, now. No wonder he’d been so hesitant to talk to Charlie, so surprised to receive his gifts. Charlie would bring him a jar of pickles every damn day if it would help chase that lingering sadness away. He made a silent vow, that whether Harvey wanted more from him or not, he would always be his friend. Harvey was kind to everyone, and it was about time someone returned the favor. Charlie felt a fierce gratitude for Maru, who he knew had been Harvey’s closest friend for years. It helped to know that Harvey hadn’t been totally alone in Pelican Town, at least.

“Philip knew all that, about your childhood?” Charlie asked at last, realizing he’d been silent for too long. Harvey tilted his head, confused.

“Yes, I told him everything.”

“I was wrong, he wasn't an asshole,” Charlie asserted. “He was a total fucking dick.”

Harvey laughed, a real one, throwing his head back. The sight made something warm glow in Charlie’s chest. “Maru prefers ‘that shithead,’” he said, still laughing. “I may have thrown around a few instances of ‘fucker’ when describing him to her after some wine.”

“I’d like to throw him around,” Charlie said darkly, and Harvey grinned at him.

“He isn’t worth your time, though I can’t pretend I wouldn’t love to see that.” He leaned back on his hands, apparently at ease again now that the story was out. “What about you? Any exes that need a good beating?”

Ah. Here they were. Charlie wasn't exactly embarrassed of his dating history, but he knew it didn’t cast him in the best light. “Not really,” he said, keeping his tone light. “I haven’t really had any super serious relationships. Mostly just dated people for a little while and then moved on. They’ve always ended pretty amicably, though,” he added, in a lame attempt to make himself sound less immature.

“Oh.” Harvey seemed to deflate a little at that, and it made Charlie uncomfortable. Was the doctor judging him? Was he reading between the lines to Charlie’s unspoken I pretty much just have fuckbuddies and get a new one when we’re bored of each other? He was torn between the desire to say something that would make him look better, and the conviction that he didn’t need to apologize for having slept around. Nobody had gotten their heart broken, after all.

“Just haven’t found the right person yet,” he settled on— optimistic but not apologetic, well done, Charlie —and Harvey smiled at him, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Why is he upset?

“Maybe you will here,” Harvey said, gesturing back at the town. “There are plenty of single people your age in the village.” He seemed to interrupt himself, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Or maybe you’re not looking. I’m sorry. It’s not any of my business.”

“You’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Harvey looked sheepish. “Six years in this village is turning me into Jodi and Caroline,” he said, and Charlie burst out laughing. He mirrored Harvey’s posture, leaning back on his hands.

“Next thing you know you’ll be going to their jazzercise class,” he teased, and to his utter delight, Harvey’s entire face turned a brilliant shade of crimson. Charlie sat up again, his jaw hanging open in a wide grin. “Oh my god! You already do!”

“I do not—”

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Charlie insisted, still unable to wipe the grin off his face. “It’s good to get exercise, or so my doctor keeps telling me.”

“Ugh,” Harvey declared, burying his face in his hands. Charlie worried that he’d gone too far, but he saw Harvey’s shoulders shaking, and realized he was laughing too. Harvey turned his head, peeking out at Charlie from behind his hands. “Not all of us get our cardio fighting monsters,” he muttered, and that set Charlie off again.

When their fit of laughter finally subsided, Charlie looked up at the sky. The moon was full and bright, casting its silvery light over the surface of the water and the two of them. Unfortunately, it was also climbing higher and higher into the sky. “It’s getting late,” he said reluctantly, and Harvey made a noncommittal noise from his right.

“You’ve still got a long walk ahead of you,” he said, sitting up and straightening his glasses. “Would you...like some company?”

Was he imagining the hesitation in Harvey’s voice? Charlie found himself losing the ability to be objective. He couldn’t tell anymore if he actually felt the tension between them, or if he was just misreading the signs, hearing what he wanted to hear. Either way, he knew the right answer, even if it wasn't the one he would have liked to give.

“Nice of you to offer, but your place is so close. No sense making you walk all that way and back.” He smiled at Harvey, and the doctor nodded, looking as though he’d expected that response. “But you’re on my way. I’ll walk you home.” Judging by the way his face lit up, it didn’t look like Harvey had expected that, and as they stood and set off for the square, Charlie thought he might have noticed a little extra skip in his step.