Play It Again, Charlie (12 page)

Charlie took a step back and bumped into his car. He could feel his face getting hot and cleared his throat. “I don't want to keep you.”

One boot scraped against the cement as Will stepped back. “You aren't,” Will answered, his voice dropping again. Charlie glanced at him, but it was Will's turn to look away. “I have an appointment I have to get to.” He stopped there, as though expecting Charlie to ask, and since he was only partly turned, Charlie could see Will's mouth flatten when he didn't. Then Will shook his head, the gesture barely discernible even with Charlie's gaze steady on him, and angled his body away.

Charlie took his gaze away from Will's straight back and shoulders and shifted around to face his car. The empty backseat with the cane jammed beneath it were still there, taunting him, and he put one hand to his back, the other to the top of the door as he leaned in.

That had been worse than an apology, he reflected as he tried to bend down, and then he flinched, more at the memory than at the pain, though he immediately straightened. Now Charlie had made things worse, but short of running across the parking lot after Will, which he couldn't do anyway, there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Charlie kicked at the bag on the ground, grunting at the instant pain and leaning back against his car. There wasn't anybody around to see him, or care if he wanted to beat his head against the scorching metal.

“Stupid,” he told himself, and then he opened his eyes at the noise of something behind him hitting the ground. He got his head up but only stood there, shocked to feel Will's body brushing against his as Will slid onto his knees in the backseat of his car.

“For fuck's sake, Charlie,” Will swore. The back of his head was covered in hair just as spiky as the front. He didn't turn around, didn't spare Charlie a glance as he wrapped a hand around the cane and pulled. Charlie felt a distant satisfaction to see that it didn't budge for Will either.

“What do you think you're doing?” he demanded, though it was obvious, and Will paused for a second to shoot a look over his shoulder. His expression was more pissed than provocative. Then he turned back around and spread his legs to get leverage. His jeans were tight.

“What's it look like?” Will grunted, putting both hands around the cane and tugging. When it only shifted, he muttered something else and tossed another backward look in Charlie's direction. Charlie snapped his eyes back to his face in time to see Will's eyebrows arch. “Don't worry, I don't want to steal it,” Will explained without commenting on his ogling before he turned around again.

“I didn't think you were going to— ” Charlie closed his mouth and moved to try to get inside the car too, to help or to take over, stopping abruptly when he realized he'd practically have to straddle Will to do that. He froze, blinking while Will wiggled the cane back and forth and then yanked.

The cane slid loose like it had never been stuck, and Will exhaled something Charlie couldn't make out. He shuffled backward a moment later, bumping into Charlie and twisting around at the embarrassingly startled noise that slipped out of Charlie's mouth.

Charlie shifted back too, moving away from the door enough for Will to climb out and get to his feet.

There was color in Will's cheeks, as though that had been a workout, but his mouth was curved up in a smile of victory. He let the cane slide through his fingers until he had it by the handle and then handed it to Charlie.

“That didn't kill you, did it?” he asked politely. Charlie wanted to say he didn't really need the cane, that it was rare that he'd even use it, but instead he looked down at the plain wood, the pavement and the edge of his bag, and then at Will's boots. They were close, and as he brought his eyes back up, he realized that he had trapped Will behind the car door. Will, however, wasn't trying to move.

There
were
spots of sweat on Will's clothing. Charlie could see them now, and he flicked his gaze to Will's face.

“I only need it to get inside.” He loved to embarrass himself; it was the only explanation. “Thank you.” He pushed out a breath as he increased the weight on the cane and kept his shoulders straight despite the ache already building in his arm.

“Seriously, Charlie, do you never smile?” Will asked, making Charlie blink because that wasn't the comment about his cane he was expecting. Will was staring straight at Charlie, and his words were small, hurt in a way that Charlie didn't like.

“I mean,” Will continued with barely a pause to pull in air, “I get that
I
don't make you smile, but do you
ever
?” His voice rose again on the question, and he shifted without attempting to push past him. Charlie was the one who took a clumsy step back and felt sweat trickle down to his collar. Will angled his head thoughtfully to one side.

“Because you haven't, not once, at least when I'm around. So what would it take to make the grouchy Officer Howard smile? Or are you really ‘always serious'?” Will moved again, taking one step to match Charlie's, and Charlie stopped at how Will's eyes swept over him.

“Sergeant,” Charlie corrected without thinking and watched Will nod. The color at his cheeks wasn't embarrassment; it wasn't the heat, either. Knowing it was anger didn't stop Charlie from curling his hand around his cane to keep from stroking a finger across Will's cheekbone.

“What
do
you like to do, Charlie?” Will's voice went higher, and Charlie shook his head shortly. Will lifted his head until his spiky hair nearly reflected the sunlight. “Telling party boys to get off your lawn?”

“Be quiet.” The immediacy of his own response should have knocked him off balance. If not for the cane it might have, the cane Will had had to get for him, that Charlie needed to stay on his feet through no fault of his own. He squeezed the handle until his hand hurt.

Will didn't listen. Of course he didn't. He tossed his head dramatically and then stepped right into Charlie's space in a way that nobody short of someone wanting a fight had ever done.

“No, really. I mean, I know you don't go out, not with anyone like me.” He bit out the words, and before Charlie could absorb the ache in them, Will moved on. “So what's it take?”

“Take?” Charlie lowered his head when Will tried a shrug. Charlie had the fleeting thought that if Will was going for distant, it wasn't working. Will put one hand on top of the car door and studied Charlie before he leaned up, made sure their faces were close to level. Charlie could see the hint of childhood freckles just across Will's nose.

“Do you let anyone— ” Will thinned his mouth before going on. He altered his expression, his posture, and knowing he was acting didn't remove the sting from the question. “When was the last time you got laid, Sergeant Howard?” Will asked him, knowledge in his half grin and the tilt of his head.

“Be quiet,” Charlie got out again, shivering at the droplets of sweat sliding down his back, under his clothes. The answer to that was obvious; Will wouldn't have asked otherwise. Charlie wanted to explain anyway. “You don't understand what I... .”

Will blinked and put on an expression of perfect innocence. Their shoes touched. Charlie held very still and met those green eyes. Will's lips were barely parted.

“You don't know anything about me.” Charlie answered him without meaning to. It wasn't until he leaned down that Charlie felt the sweat in his palm, making the cane slip in his grasp.

“Well, whose fault is that, anyway?” For all that Will was acting like a teenager, his words were sharp. He couldn't possibly know what Jeanine had said, but Charlie angled his head to look out at the sidewalk, flinching when he felt Will move. When Charlie turned back to stare at him, Will's mouth was closed.

“Don't do that with me.” Charlie knew he was giving orders again but didn't call it back. From Will's silence, he guessed the man was confused, or at least surprised, but he shook his head before Will could think of something that Scarlett O'Hara would say. “It isn't going to work,” Charlie added, watched the line form in Will's forehead. Will's mouth moved, and for a moment Charlie saw it as it had been last night, shaping his name.

“I know how funny you think I am, and I don't need you to act otherwise, okay?” He gestured between them, then put one hand to the car when he could have lost his footing. Will's eyes went wide. Charlie's throat felt rough. “I'm not that guy you were with last night.”

His hand slipped off the cane, and he broke eye contact to fumble with the slippery padding. He ran his tongue along his lips before raising his head. Will's jaw was slack, his mouth
just
open, like Will was having difficulty breathing.

Will wet his lips. He blinked once or twice, several emotions passing through his eyes, before he crossed his arms across his chest. They brushed Charlie, they were so close. He wasn't sure when that had happened.

“What do you have against... Paul?” It was a small pause, but enough to reveal that Will barely recalled the man's name. Charlie had to focus to hear what else Will was saying, he was suddenly so quiet. “The fact that he was with me?”

Charlie caught his breath, but Will was still talking. He uncrossed his arms and stuck his hands out. “You don't think I'm good enough because I don't wear suits or read a lot of books?”

The idea that Will was worried about what Charlie thought of him made his heart beat faster. Charlie took his hand off his car, holding it in the air for a moment before letting it fall.

“He ignored everything you said.” Charlie frowned when Will's eyes widened again. “You were... .” Young and pretty, dreaming about champagne and old movies in the moonlight, and Paul had ignored it, all of it, hadn't even seen it. “He didn't care about you at all.” The flush in his face to hear himself was only one more moment of humiliation in the past twenty-four hours. Charlie took his eyes away before he had to see Will's reaction to that.

“Which is somehow different from ordering me out of his life?”

Charlie's gaze flew up to Will's face, which was frozen in disbelief. Charlie waited, but Will wasn't laughing. “Maybe I'm dumb, but I don't really see the difference, Charlie.”

“I didn't order you out of my life. I just didn't want... .”

“Me,” Will finished for him, and Charlie got his hand back up. He meant to put some distance between them, but his hand was resting on Will's upper arm. They stared at each other, getting hot in the sun, and then Charlie spoke.

“Pity. I don't need someone to stay out of pity. I'm fine.”

He took his hand off Will, and a sound squeaked out of Will, not quite a word. Charlie moved his hand back to Will's shoulder, and then felt as though he was leaning on Will and pulled back so he wouldn't weigh Will down.

“And... .” Now that it was out, Charlie was the one who couldn't shut up. He was so tired he couldn't tell what was going on. That was it. “We both know you're smart. Stop being ridiculous.”

Will twitched back to life. “Why not? Hard to keep up at your age?” His voice was honey again, like he knew just what to say to make Charlie want to glare at him or shove him into the car and keep him there. On the heels of that thought, he looked at Will's face, his curved mouth, and wanted to kiss him, hard and then soft, over and over. He looked away.

“Oh, knock it off. I'm not that much older than you.” Probably only six or seven years. Will's eyebrows went too high for his disbelief to be real.

“Could have fooled me,” he remarked at last, and if that was true, it was a wonder that Will had approached him at all.

Charlie shivered despite the heat crawling along his skin. He stared down at Will, who was looking back up at him, his hands spreading out flat on Charlie's chest, and when... when had that happened?

“You're... .” That he couldn't say out loud, only lowered his head to glare at his feet. It had been easier to get his sisters dressed for school when they'd been younger than it was to have this conversation. “You're better than... .” He would not say
Paul,
or Grayson for that matter. “That guy.”

Will exhaled. “At least he wanted me.” He didn't look away when Charlie brought his hand up.

It wouldn't take much to run his thumb along the corner of Will's mouth, urge it back into a smile. Charlie tore his eyes away to look around, but in the middle of the day the street was deserted. His palm was warm against Will's shoulder, and he moved his thumb to feel the push of Will's collarbone through soft fabric instead. When Will made a noise, Charlie froze, then belatedly took his hand away.

Will slowly leaned his head to one side.

“I really don't get you, Charlie,” he remarked in a frustrated whisper, and Charlie curled his fingers into his palm.

“And you get
everyone
?” he questioned from habit, managing to lift one doubtful eyebrow. Another shrug was his answer.

“Usually, yeah.” The second glimpse of unexpected cynicism made Charlie blink. “For most there isn't much to get.” Charlie didn't move, and Will rolled one hand again, as though it was all so obvious. “Or that I
want
to get, you know?” he finished. He pulled his hands from Charlie and draped his arms over the roof of the car and the top of the door. He gestured easily with one hand. “But we don't always get what we want, do we?”

“No,” Charlie responded without thinking, then he shut his mouth at the pain in his voice. Will's hands fluttered, and when he looked down, at the ground or the cane, he made another small sound, this one upset, as though despite everything else Will hadn't meant to refer to Charlie's limp. Charlie immediately shook his head because the remark hadn't hurt, not much, not in comparison to everything else. But Will didn't see that. He didn't even move until Charlie lifted his hand and watched his fingers glide across Will's cheek.

Will's head came up, and Charlie sucked in a breath before taking his hand away. The area around them remained empty and quiet, but he stared out over it anyway, keeping his hand safely at his side while he thought about turning around and heading to his apartment and not incriminating himself any more in one day.