bloodyrockgod | Bartleby & Charlie on the island, a memory

They made love on the beach, away from the signal fires on a scratchy airline blanket. Charlie liked it face-to-face and Bartleby liked to kiss him and look into his eyes, so they usually did it sitting up, Charlie straddling Bartleby's hips.

When they were done they lay side by side on the blanket, Charlie's head on Bartleby's shoulder, and looked at the stars. Charlie wished vaguely for a cigarette, but contented himself with combing his fingers through Bartleby's hair.

"What's the first thing you remember?" he whispered.

Bartleby chuckled dryly. "Her, of course."

"Her?"

"God. All . . . Warm and bright and home-feeling."

"She feels like home?"

"Of course She does. Heaven is everyone's home."

"Where they have to take you in," Charlie murmured and turned onto his side to hold Bartleby closer. Bartleby chuckled again and kissed his hair. "Do you miss it?" he asked, knowing the answer to be yes.

"Not as much as I used to."

Charlie lifted his head and traced a fingertip down Bartleby's perfect profile. The angel was smiling by the time he reached his lips.

"Good," he said simply and kissed Bartleby, cradling his head in his palm. They should head back, he knew, to the safety of the caves or the fires, but he couldn't suggest it yet. Not when the night was quiet and Bartleby's mouth was hot and open.