Summery: Willy and Charlie come to an understanding. WW/CB. Fluff.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything involving Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. But if I did...
Charlie Bucket sat alone in the Nut Sorting Room. He sat on the platform of the highest tier, where he had stood nearly a year ago and watched Veruca Salt be carried away by squirrels. His legs dangled off the side and his arms were intwined around the thin, blue metal railing. The squirrels had long ago retired for the night, leaving empty walnut shells littered around their workstations.
"Charlie?" asked a voice softly from the door. Charlie knew who it was before he turned to look. Standing in the doorway, cane in one hand and keyring in the other, was Willy Wonka. It was amazing how the man could just walk about and not be heard.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Wonka," replied Charlie in a low tone that Willy could barely hear. The look on Charlie's face was downtrodden and for a moment Willy contemplated just shutting the door and leaving his young pupil to his thoughts.
Charlie turned his attention back to the empty room, only looking back to Willy when he let out a great huff. Just as Charlie was turning back to look up at him, there was a flurry of red silk that placed itself next to Charlie. It was a large handkerchief that Willy had produced from his pants pocket and had placed on the platform beside Charlie.
With a bright smile the candy man propped his can against the wall behind him and sat next to his protege. He too dangled his legs over the edge, but his hands remained firmly on the platform, as though afraid to touch the railing. And after thinking about it, Charlie supposed he was.
"You know, frowning isn't very productive, my dear boy," Willy commented after a few moments of silence between them.
"I had a horrible day at school," said Charlie in return, resting his chin in his hands. He could think of no reason as to why he chose to open up at this particular moment and to this particular man. After all, at dinner that night, his family had each in turn asked him what the matter was, but he had refused to speak with them about it.
"Sorry, I couldn't make it to dinner," said Willy, as though simultaneously reading Charlie's thoughts and trying to change the subject. The silence blanketed them once more, during which Willy would fidget here and there, but said nothing.
"Don't you want to hear about it?" asked Charlie finally. He looked to the eccentric man beside him, who fixed him in his violet stare.
"Sure!" replied Willy a little more cheerful then was necessary. Charlie let his hands grip the railing once again, much to the obvious chagrin of his mentor.
"Well, the girls in my class were talking about the Valentine's Day dance in whispers and they kept looking over at me. I asked my friend Andrew why and he said that all the girls wanted to go with me because of the factory-"
Just then Willy let out an uncomfortable cough. Charlie knew that he hated causing his young heir any trouble because of the factory. This was always unnecessary, ofcourse, because Charlie never held any ill will over his inheritance.
"Oh, stop, that," Charlie said with a smile, his first in hours. When Willy gave a smile back, Charlie decided that was his signal to continue, "Anyway, when lunch came about I could barely eat because every girl from my grade would come up and ask me to the dance. Andrew told me to just pick one at random, but I didn't much care for that.
"I told him I would make a fool of myself no matter who I took with me. Well, he said it wouldn't matter anyway. All I'd have to do is kiss them goodnight and they'd be happy no matter what else had happened before that. And that's the part I don't like."
"It's normal to make a fool of yourself," Willy said as though this could help Charlie's plight.
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. But, that's not the part I'm worried about anyway. The kiss part is," replied Charlie, breaking his eye contact so Willy would not see the flush that had crept onto his face.
Silence. That was all the candy maker had to say in that small instance. That was his glorious advice. A moment of anger flared in Charlie, but died away quickly when he realized Mr. Wonka was not one to talk about such things.
"I'd talk to mum and dad about it, only they'd be no help in this case," said Charlie sadly.
"Why not?" the enthusiasm had now gone from Willy's voice.
"'Cause it'll be my first kiss and mom already told me that my first kiss should be special, with someone I love," replied Charlie, even though he knew that Willy hadn't really wanted the answer. A thought came to Charlie then. "Mr. Wonka, what was your first kiss like?"
Willy grew very still in that moment. Charlie dared a look at him, expecting to see that vacant expressin that meant he was having one of his flashbacks. However, there was none. Willy just looked at Charlie as he twiddled his fingers with his toothy grin pasted on.
"I've never had a first kiss," he said in his usual playful voice, but Charlie could tell there was some agitaion behind it.
"Really? I thought all groun-ups had at least one kiss," replied Charlie. All manner of ideas had passed through his mind as to why Mr. Wonka had never been kssed before. While none stuck out as obvious, Charlie would bet the entire chocolate factory that it had something to do with Mr. Wonka's unusual behavior.
"No, no. My f-f-f-"
"You're father," supplied Charlie.
"He didn't much care for me to be around girls. He said they were too distracting and would only leave me heartbroken, just like..." Willy did not finish this thought, but Charlie didn't need him to. There were not many times that Mr. Wonka would freely talk about his mother.
"I don't think it makes much of a difference any way. A kiss is just a kiss, right?" asked Charlie, quick to change the subject. Willy brightened up to his old self once again.
"Oh, no, Charlie, your mother is quite right. You only get one first, and you should never waste that," said Willy in his cheerful tone. His pale face suddenly gained hue and he let out a gasp. But before Charlie could ask, Willy started to whisper to himself, "Why of course, so obvious!"
"What?" asked Charlie, but deep down he almost knew what was about to happen, causing his stomach to twist in overlaying knots.
"You love me, don't you, my dear Charlie?" asked Willy, with an excitement that showed he already knew the answer.
"Of course I do," came the expected reply, "And you love me?" It really wasn't a question at all.
"Most definately," giggled Willy, "So why shouldn't we have our first kiss?"
The knot in Charlie's stomach threatened to explode as this suggestion came to light. He tried to swallow, but found his throat wasn't working properly. For a moment there was a look of worry on Charlie's face that made Willy frown, but before he could take what he suggested back Charlie answered.
"Okay," came the faint whisper that sounded foreign to his own ears. He let his hands fall soundlessly into his lap and waited. Willy seemed just as reluctant to initiate their arrangement. Then, quite unexpectedly, they both moved toward one another and to Charlie it felt like gravity itself was pushing him.
Charlie saw Willy's eyes flutter shut, but not tightly as though he were unwilling to continue. Following suit, Charlie shut his eyes, but only slightly, not wanting to miss anything. Their lips connected smoothly and very lightly. It was almost like one of the kisses his mother gave him every day before he left for school. Yet, Charlie moved just a little closer so now his nose was touching Willy's pale cheek. For a moment he could have sworn he felt a shiver run through the body of the chocolatier.
The pressure against his mouth had increased as he had moved closer. A soft smell of caramel floated around Willy and vaguely Charlie wondered if he had snuck some pieces away when the Oompa Loompas weren't looking. Willy's lips was soft and dry, but deep in his mind Charlie wanted to know what they tasted like. In response, he opened his mouth only just enough to allow the tip of his tongue out and ran it quickly in the part between Willy's lips. The movement was so fast, anyone would have sworn it had scolded Charlie. Yet this time, the shiver ran through them both.
Willy Wonka tasted just as Charlie had thought, like sugar. Though it was not entirely as sweet, but just as addictive. The urge to taste him again was fast approaching, but Charlie pushed it away. However, it was apparent that Charlie was not the only curious party, for not a moment later did Mr. Wonka's tongue dart in and quickly back out of Charlie's mouth. Never before had Charlie wondered not only how his mouth tasted to an outsider.
Just as they had come together by some outside force, so did they part. It had only been a few seconds, but there was something new that was growing inside Charlie that had not been there before. He opened his eyes again to find bright violet ones watching him, though they turned away quickly. Again, silence overtook them.
"I don't feel any different," Charlie lied out loud. Inside his head he was attempting to do the same thing. He and Willy looked toward one another, but not really at one another.
"Neither do I," said Willy. Out of curiosity, Charlie looked at Mr. Wonka's face and saw that he was not the only one who was lying.
"At least I don't have to worry about wasting something special now," said Charlie, with an attempt at a light-hearted smile. Willy returned the attempt, though had slightly more success.
"Anytime, Charlie," and with that there was something more to Willy's smile. The knot that had deflated during the kiss had returned as he realized there was more to those words then either would ever admit to.
"Thanks, Mr. Wonka," replied Charlie. After a moment of just smiling at one another he said, "I think we ought to be getting to sleep."
"Right you are, my dear boy." And Willy sprung to his feet like lightning, he stood for a moment as if in thoguht and then reached his hand out for Charlie. The tightness in his abdomen only got worse as he slipped his hand into the candymaker's gloved one and was pulled to his feet with surprising strength.
They took the glass elevator (Mr. Wonka actually didn't hit it head on this time) to a long, grey hallway. At the very center of this hallway were two doors directly across from one another. One was deep plum with a large gold W scrawled on the front. The other was emerald with a silver C nailed to it. Willy went to the plum and Charlie to the emerald, both rested their hands on the respective doorknobs, but did not move to turn them.
"Good night, my dear Charlie," whispered Willy in an uncharacteristicallly serious tone. There was something in the way he said it, in the way he looked deep into Charlie's eyes that told Charlie he had meant every word of it. A wave of warmth came over him, like a bucket of hot water had been poured over his body.
"Good night, Willy," replied Charlie. Though it would not seem much to most people, it meant a great deal to both, it was the first time Charlie had called his mentor by his first name. And it was as Charlie shut the door behind him that he realized just how good a first could be.