#magnus hammersmith

i actually started the fic where charles meets magnus’ parents, but it conflicts with some of my lore which is why i’ve been kinda stuck

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In the time it took Charles to retrieve his jacket from the hall closet, Magnus already sent him five texts.

Here.

I’m outside.

Dude, are you coming or not?

Hello?

???

In any other context, Charles would have chastised Magnus for getting on his case about punctuality.  But considering the situation, he decides to let it slide.

Charles shoots out a quick “I’ll be right out” text before Magnus can start leaning on the horn.  After one quick glance over in the mirror, he grabs the wine bottle and box of pastries from the kitchen and hurries outside.

Magnus’ truck stopped in front of his sidewalk; the rumbling of the old engine can be heard from the front door.  Charles still takes the time to lock up, even though he can feel Magnus’ growing impatience and frustration with him.  He locks the door and races down the sidewalk.  Magnus pushes the passenger side door open before Charles can attempt opening it with his arms full.

“Thank you.”  Charles buckles his seatbelt before making sure the gifts are secure in his grasp.

“Yeah, no problem,” Magnus says under his breath.

He glances over at Charles, his brow furrowing.

“What?”

“You’re not wearing a suit?”

“I, ah…”  Charles smooths his hands over his sports coat, worn over a simple blue button-up.  “Sorry, was I supposed to?”

He never got the impression that this was some sort of black-tie event.  Especially not when Magnus is wearing his usual black denim jacket and jeans.  He is actually wearing a shirt, a plain black tee, and he ditched the gaudy skull belt buckle.  So perhaps this is his version of dressing up.

“No, it’s just…”  Magnus trails off, frowning down at the steering wheel.  “You always wear a suit.  I sort of assumed…”

“I can change if you’d like.”

“No, no,” Magnus shakes his head.  “I just thought you’d be…whatever.  Let’s just go.”

“Alright,” Charles places a hand on his shoulder.  Even through the thick denim, he can feel how tense he is.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Magnus says quickly before releasing the parking brake with a jerky, forceful motion that serves as a better indication of his current mental state than his words ever could.

As Magnus drives down the road, Charles moves the wine bottle around in his hands, the amber street lamps outside bouncing against the glass.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s a gift.  I brought pastries too.”  Charles puts the bottle away so the glare won’t bother Magnus.  “I, ah, read that it’s traditional to bring a gift when visiting an Armenian home.  Is that not…appropriate?”

Magnus sighs.

“My mom might appreciate it.  But my dad…I don’t know.  He always seemed ashamed of his heritage – lots of internalized xenophobia there.  Also, he always resented my mom for having a closer connection to the home country than he ever did,”  He pauses.  “But if he doesn’t get a gift, he might take it personally too.  Might accuse my mom of taking everything from him again.  Even though he did get custody of me in the divorce, maybe I was the one thing of hers he didn’t want…”

“So…” Charles clears his throat, trying to squeeze his way into Magnus’ rapidly-developing spiral.  “What should I do with the gifts?”

“I don’t know, I…”  Magnus squeezes the steering wheel harder.  “Maybe just give me some of the wine now.  I need it.”

“Not while you’re driving.”

“Then you wanna bail?  Find some parking lot and share the bottle ourselves?”

“Magnus.”

Magnus takes a deep breath.

“You’re right.  I’m losing it, sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  Charles manages a small smile and pats his thigh.  “So what’s the verdict on the gifts?”

Magnus shrugs.

“They should be fine.  I’m just overthinking things.”

“It’s hard to go wrong with pastries and alcohol.”

“I don’t know.  My parents will find some way to argue about it,” Magnus sighs.  “You’ve been reading up on Armenian culture?”

Charles nods.

“I, ah, wanted to be prepared.  I’ve actually been studying the language.”  He hesitates.  “Would that be disrespectful?”

Magnus scoffs.

“You’ll win some serious points with my mom, but my dad might take offense since his Armenian sucks.  But don’t worry about not offending my dad – you will at some point.” He glances over at Charles, a smile finally starting to form on his face.  “Let’s hear what you got.”

“Okay, ah….”  Charles fumbles with the little notebook in his breast pocket, now suddenly feeling put on the spot.  “Ah…p…Բարեւ ձեզ:.Ուրախ եմ քեզի…”

Magnus winces.

“Okay, that’s Western Armenian.  That won’t win you any favors with my mom.”

“Oh.”  Charles’ face heats up.  In the lead-up to this visit, he had asked one of his neighbors to help him, but he didn’t think to consider the specifics. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, babe.”  He pats Charles on the shoulder.  “You don’t need to speak Armenian perfectly to impress them.  Just name-drop Harvard a few times and you should be fine.”

Charles scoffs.

“You really think so?”

“Of course.”  Magnus smiles before kissing him on the cheek.  “All you gotta do is be your wonderful self.”

“If you say so.”

“Actually, uh…”  Magnus trails off, his smile fading as he returns his attention to the road.

“What’s wrong?”

“When we meet my folks…”  Magnus starts slowly.  “Could we, uh, not tell them that you’re my manager?  Just say you’re a lawyer.”

“But I don’t practice law anymore–”

“I know, I know.”  Magnus rubs his forehead.  “But if I’m dating my manager, there’s no way my dad won’t give me shit about it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because it’s like I’m dating my boss, I dunno,”  He sighs.  “But also if we say that you’re a lawyer who went to Harvard….”

Magnus trails off again, causing Charles to narrow his eyes.

“Yes?”

Magnus hisses through his teeth.

“I have a small confession to make.  I haven’t…”  Magnus stops as he turns another corner.  “Oh, it’s just this next turn up here.”

Charles peers out the window as Magnus pulls up in front of a modest bungalow.

Magnus shifts the truck into park, then returns to gripping the steering wheel.

“So…”  Charles begins slowly.  “What did you want to tell me?”

Magnus’ jaw visibly clenches.

“Okay, promise you won’t get mad.”

Charles sighs and reaches out to touch Magnus’ shoulder.

“I’m not going to be mad.  What is it?”

“So, I…”  Magnus grimaces.  “I still haven’t come out to either of my parents.  So I’m hoping that the ‘lawyer thing’ will help it go down easier. Sorry.”

“Oh.”  Charles pulls his hand back.  “Wait, did you not, ah, tell them about me?  I thought they knew I was coming.”

“They know, I just…never specified that you’re a guy.”

“…did you tell them my name?”

“I always called you ‘Charlie’, so if they assume anything that’s their fault.”