Of all the things I wanted to do today, this was the only one I accomplished. Did this while watching The Dark Knight, Labyrinth, and then Batman was on ION. Batman is SO. BAD. after watching TDK. But \m/ for surprise!Tab and surprise!Cobb.

Title: A Primer for Dating Charlie Crews
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Charlie/Matt
Word Count: 1,275
Warnings: Life/Standoff crossover; fits into my Matt and Charlie Meet in a Bar 'verse that I started, wrote an outline for, and have since ignored
Summary: For sansets - Matt tries to figure out the boundaries in his relationship with Charlie.

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The first thing Matt learned was that he needed to exhibit some form of self-control even though Charlie didn't himself. Matt wasn't a stranger to keeping his private life private. His relationship with Emily only existed away from work or behind closed doors, even if those doors were an empty office or, that one time, the mobile command center after a standoff.

But Charlie... Charlie was much more open. Most of the time, anyway. Charlie had no problem announcing to the entire room exactly who Matt was when he went down to the station to try and drag Charlie away for lunch. Matt had thought Reese would be at least a little surprised, but she didn't even blink.

Charlie also didn't shy away from physical contact in public. It was nice to feel needed, wanted, whether they were walking close enough that their shoulders would bump, the backs of their hands and fingers brushing, or Charlie hooking his foot against Matt's leg if they were sitting across from each other. Matt hadn't really gotten the point to hand holding before, but Charlie had been concerned that they'd get thrown out of Dodger Stadium because of Matt's heckling, so when Matt had shot to his feet in frustration at the umpire's call, Charlie had wrapped his fingers around Matt's wrist, pulling him back into his seat. Matt stopped caring about the decision when Charlie's hand slid up to his, and Matt behaved himself for the rest of the game, not wanting to break the spell, even though the Dodgers ended up losing by six runs.

The self-control became necessary when Matt attempted to be the initiator. He learned the hard way that twelve years in prison affects how your instincts are wired, and it all doesn't just disappear when you cross that threshold that is the fence separating you from freedom. Matt had woken up in Charlie's house one morning to find himself alone in bed. The door to the master bath was open, through which he could see Charlie with a towel slung low across his hips, hair wet and skin flushed, rinsing shaving cream off his face. Matt learned to start walking around the house louder as he found himself on the floor, wind knocked out of him, Charlie's gaze feral and distant but quickly apologetic as he came into focus.

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The second thing Matt learned was to never press the issue. Charlie never talked about prison, about the scars and the tattoos. Matt had sputtered, surprised, when he'd gone to Charlie's house one night and Rachel was there, embarrassed with his reaction after an introduction was made. He'd read the case files, knew who she was, what it meant that Charlie had finally found her. The prison records, though, sometimes Matt's fingers would itch when he was at his desk, having access but not able to bring himself to pull up the information. Matt didn't like knowing the whole picture, didn't like going in without all the details, but he found that when it came to Charlie, Matt needed to similarly adapt to living in this moment, not the ones that'd passed.

He'd gotten home late one evening, not expecting to find Charlie asleep on his couch with the television on, but he was. There was a file folder on the coffee table, and Charlie had stirred, sitting up slightly, when Matt turned the TV off, telling Matt he could read the folder if he wanted to. Matt collapsed bonelessly on the couch, eyes fixed on the corners of the pages peeking out of the folder, feeling Charlie's head against his thigh, hand on his knee. That was three weeks ago, and Matt hadn't touched the papers beyond putting them out of sight in a drawer, content with the knowledge that Charlie didn't mind him knowing, was allowing him to read it if Matt wanted, but the first time he tried he couldn't get beyond the first page's heading off Pelican Bay Penitentiary Prisoner Medical Records without feeling sick to his stomach.

The conspiracy wall Matt had found on accident when Ted had let him in, simply explaining that Charlie was upstairs. It was only the second time Matt had been inside, and the first time involved fumbling up the stairs in the dark followed by a very thorough introduction to Charlie's bed. Charlie had glanced back when Matt opened the door but didn't say anything until Matt was standing right next to him. He'd pointed out some pictures, explained certain arrows, and Matt didn't ask any questions. A few weeks later he expressed concern with Charlie becoming obsessed. Hollis was locked up. Did Charlie really want to know what happened?

After that, Matt was at Charlie's house, waiting for him to get home, and he ended up in the room. There was only one new picture, higher and away from the rest of them, a box drawn around it as if to keep it separated from the rest of the wall. Matt looked at his own face on the wall with the text "no matter how this ends" under the photograph, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face.

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The third thing Matt learned was that, of the two of them, he was the more difficult one. Charlie had his Zen-inspired patience to guide him through Matt's hesitance and uncertainty, the obvious issues that were the flotsam of his relationship with Emily.

When Charlie showed up at Matt's desk, leaning against the divider while eating a fistful of grapes, Matt could hear the whispers. There was no one in law enforcement who didn't recognize his face. Matt had acted casual, kept his distance, not announcing their relationship to the world as Charlie had done in his office. Matt was tired of being the only source of office gossip. Charlie seemed to notice this and started waiting for Matt by his car, which was how Charlie met Frank. Matt hadn't understood Frank's comment about Emily taking Matt's balls with her until he talked to Charlie later. He then invited Charlie out to the bar when he got off, where Matt officially introduced Charlie to Frank and Cheryl. Frank looked smug, Cheryl like she'd known all along, and Charlie had his half-smile that seemed so secretive as his eyes held so much more.

The first time Matt realized he was falling for Charlie, he conveniently buried himself in work and didn't see Charlie for nearly two weeks. During this time Charlie discovered texting, sending messages that read like haiku. Matt wasn't sure how to respond to them, so he didn't. The seventh, eighth, and ninth days had Matt doing crisis negotiation seminars in Sacramento for any cop in the state who was interested.

The tenth day saw him home after midnight with a knock on the door not even five minutes after Matt had locked it behind him. Matt was so tired and stiff and cranky from the trip back, but Charlie was a welcome sight, even if Matt suspected that he'd been staking out his house for the last few days to make sure his absence wasn't because of hospitalization or Matt seeing someone else behind Charlie's back.

Matt sighed into Charlie, not apologetic about three days' worth of stubble that grazed Charlie's neck when Matt put his chin on Charlie's shoulder, too exhausted to do anything besides stand there and let Charlie hold him upright. He almost said it then, but he didn't. Instead he kissed Charlie then dragged him to Matt's bedroom, sick of talking after the seminars and hoping Charlie understood how happy Matt was that he was there.