Charlie twisted round a little more, until he was almost lying on top of Oliver. He set his mug down, then wrapped both arms around Oliver - shoving one rather ungracefully under Oliver, catching the corner of his nail against a cushion and wincing for a second. He pressed his face against Oliver's shoulder, hugging him like he was trying to crawl inside Oliver's skin.
"I don't give a Kneazle's arse if they write nasty things," he said firmly. "Not about me, anyway. Can't guarantee I won't try and punch them inna squishy bits if they star saying shit about you, mind."