Play It Again, Charlie (66 page)

Maybe it did. Or maybe Will read the desperation on his face. Charlie tried to force himself to speak again, but Will was faster.

“Don't get me wrong, being taken care of is awesome.” Will shook his head and let out a long, deep breath. It was a happy, warm sigh that made Charlie's face feel hot. “
Awesome
. But you don't need to be all, um, daddy all the time, okay? It's kind of nice, actually, like you aren't so perfect and I don't have to try so hard to be someone you'd want to keep around.” He scratched at his hair and waved down Charlie's noise of protest. “Not that I'm not hot.”

“You're very hot,” Charlie reassured him, then frowned. “You thought I was perfect?” His voice broke, but another sip of coffee didn't do anything for it. He couldn't think of how Will had gotten that impression. He'd seen him limping and miserable from day one.

Will scratched at his hair again, then put a hand to his flushed cheeks. “Until you puked on yourself, anyway,” he murmured. Charlie's stomach instantly turned.

“I am never drinking like that again,” he promised, though everyone vowed that after a bad night.

“Yeah, I have to admit, Charlie, you look like you need a hamburger and then a nap. I could... .”

“Please, I don't need a burger. I'm fi— ” He bit his lip to stop himself from saying it. “But thank you. You didn't have to take care of me. Last night or... .” He thought over what he'd said in the dark. “This morning.”

Will rolled his eyes, then moved his shoulders in another shrug.

“I
know
.” He wrinkled his nose. “I've seen worse, by the way. It really wasn't that bad. And anyway, your grandmother said... .” He coughed and went for more coffee. “Nothing. Never mind. Well, actually... .” He swept a look up and waited, but when Charlie tensed up but didn't stop him, he let out a tiny, pleased breath and continued. “When you were here and out of the hospital, and your sister had to— ”

“What?” Charlie straightened and came forward. There must have been something he hadn't heard when he'd been standing outside the living room. “Why? What did Nana say? She has funny ideas, but if she said something to hurt you— ”

“Charlie!” Will stopped him with one shocked and offended gasp. “That is your abuela you're talking about. She's amazing! Jesus, you really are the man, aren't you? Have you ever seen yourself like this? Screw Sergeant Howard, this is so much better. I kind of want to say you aren't like that enough, but I'm not sure I could handle it.”

“What?” Charlie twitched and tried to calm down, if only for the sake of his headache. Will was a combination of scandalized and pleased.

“She just... she said you need someone who appreciates you. Someone who is strong too, who can help you.” Will picked up his coffee cup, then put it down. He cleared his throat, then ran his hand through his hair. “I didn't get it then, but I think she meant... .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think she meant
me
.” He looked up, and whatever he saw in Charlie's face held him still for another moment. “Then you said, last night... . Well, I don't know if I'm like that, but— ”

“Yes, you are.” It was easy to say after all, or it seemed that way with the longing way Will was staring at him.

“But I burned the eggs.” Will confessed it like he'd stolen from a church. “She wouldn't like that. She'd think it wasn't good enough.”

“I think it's fine.” This one time, Charlie didn't give a crap about that word. “I don't care about the eggs.” The pan had been expensive, but he could replace it. “I don't need someone to cook for me. I just need someone who likes it when I cook for
them
.” It sounded stupid out loud, like not asking for that much at all, but it felt like a lot when Will called his cooking magic.

Will looked hypnotized for a moment, then shook himself.

“But last night you said you couldn't be strong all the time, and I kept on asking you to be all dominant and sexy— which you are really good at, don't doubt that.” Will patted his chest, then seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped.

“Thank you.” Charlie was blushing. “But I only want... .” He could do this. “I only want to be that way for you. I feel like I really am like that around you. Like... .” He could take on anything, but it was embarrassing to say.

His voice stayed remarkably level. Will's eyes met his, then he tried to speak and his voice cracked.

“Then if I asked what else you want from me, you'd say... .”

“Stay.”

Charlie had a feeling it was the right thing to say, even if his stomach dropped out as he said it. Will sucked in a breath and raised one hand to play with his hair. It looked like an automatic gesture, because his hair stayed a delicious early morning mess. He grinned, said, “You remembered,” and then he bit his lip and dropped back.

“Are you sure?” he asked at last, all aflutter, and Charlie stepped in until Will's back was to the counter. He could remember being too drunk to feel shy about touching Will's hair, so he reached out and let it tickle the pads of his fingers.

“Stay,” he said again, too nervous to keep it out of his voice. Will's gaze was sharp; it didn't help. Charlie focused on getting the words out. “If you want to.”

“If I want to?” He didn't think Will was playing dumb; his frown was real. It said that Charlie was being an idiot. It was oddly reassuring.

“Yes.” Charlie wanted a lot more than that, but that one word took the last of the tension out of Will's shoulders. After a minute his lips turned up. His smile was so ridiculously big that Charlie wanted to smile back. He tried to stay serious so Will would understand what he was getting into. “You might not want to,” he had to add, to explain. “My family, my
sisters
, are a big part of my life, and they won't, well, after Mark, they aren't going to be nice.”

“Psh.”
Now
Will was cocky and sure of himself. He leaned back easily against the counter and didn't comment when Charlie pressed closer. “I don't care about that. I'm better than him any day, right?” Will was still smiling at him as though Charlie had just done something incredible. But then he twisted his mouth and looked away. He squared his shoulders before turning back.

“Although, speaking of Mark,” he began. Charlie glanced at the mug and felt a stab of pain behind his eyes. “It's nothing serious, but, and I want you to know this sucks even saying this, but, he called.”

“He... what?” Charlie hadn't been expecting that, especially not from Will, though if he thought about it, he could recall Mark saying he would call in a few weeks. He focused on Will and the stubborn set to his mouth. “Will.”

Will rolled his shoulders but then waved his hands in a gesture that could have meant anything. “Your phone rang, and I didn't want it to wake you up, and as I was moving it I saw who called... so I picked up.” The next gesture projected helpless innocence. Will lifted his chin and ruined his own act by smiling a little.

“Nothing happened. I told him you were sleeping and I was about to make you breakfast. I even told him I'd tell you he called. And I did. So there.”

Charlie stared at him, keeping his conflicted emotions off his face with extreme effort. He could imagine just how sweetly Will has passed that information on. Just the same, the “so there” aside, it was a remarkable response considering that last time Will had all but groped him in front of Mark. He wondered what had changed but wasn't sure he should ask.

“Good, right?” Will asked, his bravado wobbling a bit when Charlie took a moment to answer, and Charlie let out a breath.

“You need a spanking,” he remarked, and was rewarded with a smile and Will's gaze back on him, hot and bright and hopeful, so hopeful. He wanted to answer it and couldn't, not yet.

“I'm serious.” He wished he wasn't. Will just grinned at him like that was hilarious, and Charlie almost spanked him right there. He forgot about Mark and tried to get Will to focus and think about what he was getting into. “They're a lot to handle. My family is... it's complicated. You don't need to worry about them if you don't want... .” He stopped when Will gave him that look again and his grin disappeared. Charlie swallowed, hoping he could blame it all on the cheap tequila. “But,” he corrected himself, and Will's smile popped back into existence. “I'd like it if you did want that, or didn't mind.”

He frowned. “But if they say something, tell me. I won't have them insulting you.”

“Yes, Charlie,” Will agreed. His fingers glanced over Charlie's chest. Charlie wouldn't let himself be distracted or think about how gravelly his voice was getting.

“I don't care what they say, as long as you're here.”

“Aw.” Will had to swallow a few times to get that out. Then he looked thoughtful and stopped all his fondling. “Are they that bad?”

“They're used to having my full attention.” It was the best way Charlie could think to put it.

“Are they?” Will wet his mouth, then hummed, then pulled away to finish his coffee. “I suppose they wouldn't care for me wanting you around a lot of the time.” He looked sideways at Charlie. “Because I do. I... .” He turned his cup so Mark's picture didn't show. “I do. I missed you, a lot. ‘The sun was gray’ and everything.”

He abruptly twisted, putting his back to the counter again. Then he curled his fingers in a come-hither gesture that might have come straight from a black and white film vamp but worked in real life, too, especially when Charlie knew it was meant to disguise Will's fears. He came closer, barely feeling his pounding head anymore.

“If you want me to be around, just ask.” He'd be there, in a heartbeat, if at all possible. “I... it was quiet without you.”

“Quiet?” He loved the way Will angled his head as he considered that, though he didn't understand how uncertain Will could still be. “That's a bad thing?”

Charlie nodded, grateful once again when Will seemed to get it. “A very bad thing.”

Will's expression became impossibly smug, though there was still some hesitation in the hands not running all over Charlie. Will thought Charlie was messed up, but he had some issues of his own if he couldn't see how amazing he was. It didn't take long for Will to lose some of his pleased aura.

“What will your sisters think about that?”

Charlie came in closer so that his arms were brushing Will's sides. Will took that as his cue to slide his arms around Charlie's waist, and Charlie unsuccessfully fought his smile. “They want me to be happy, and... I want to be happy.”

“Do you?” Will tilted his head back. He still looked thoughtful. “Well, that's good news. Because I have a feeling, no, I
know
, that your sisters are on their way here right now.”

Charlie forgot to blink. He didn't think he'd missed anything... except that ringing phone.

“Will.” That was all it took.

“After, um, Mark, your phone
kept
ringing, and so I answered it. I talked to one of them. And then another one. Then the first one again. Then this
really
pushy one who didn't believe you were sleeping or that you'd even been drunk at all. You really didn't ever get wasted as a teenager, did you? Not around them, anyway.” Will made a noise. “They might be on their way over here to storm the castle walls,” he finished with false nonchalance. “I tried to clean up. I'm not sure the place is presentable enough for them.”

Charlie looked around while his heart raced, though he knew it didn't matter what state the apartment was in. It was normally pretty neat, anyway, Will was just finicky.

“It won't matter,” he murmured as the dull pounding in his head resumed. “They'd clean it again for me even if it was spotless. I don't even think they notice that they do it.” He focused back on Will, who had a strange look on his face.

“So,” Will began and slowly reached back. “If I do this... .” He used two fingers to push his coffee cup to the edge of the counter before glancing up. Charlie considered him, and the cup, and the picture on it that he couldn't see, and frowned, but didn't say anything.

He flinched when Will sent the cup over the edge, anticipating the noise of the crash, and stared down at the shards for another long moment. He only raised his head when Will cleared his throat.

“You would say... ?”

“You're barefoot. Be careful.” Charlie didn't even pause to inhale. Will slid his arm back around him and opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say was lost at the sound of insistent knocks on the door.

They both froze, but then Charlie looked at the door and then back at Will, who was blinking at him and pulling at his shirt at the same time.

They probably could have done this a better way, Charlie reflected distantly, like when his head wasn't aching and they were both fully dressed. Will's expression was similarly anxious, though for different reasons, and that was enough to make Charlie take a long breath.

He straightened and then gently nudged Will back. Will put his hands up to Charlie's shoulders and stared nervously back at him.

“Will.” Charlie ducked his head and kissed his mouth, a small, quick kiss for the startled look in Will's eyes.

Will blinked, so much feeling on his face that he seemed to glow. Then he wet his lips.

“Again?” he requested, and if he was referencing something from an old movie, Charlie didn't care. He kissed him again, with his hand cupping the back of Will's head, until Will moaned and they were both breathing hard, and Charlie had to stop himself from sliding a hand down to Will's ass and ignore the noise Will made, like he wanted him to.

He pulled back only because the knocking and the voices calling his name got louder. Will frowned, but when Charlie twined their hands together, he didn't say anything but his name as he let Charlie pull him carefully around the pieces of the shattered cup toward the door.

R. Cooper has been making up stories since she was a wee R. Cooper. She has a weakness for strong-minded characters doing unspeakably hot things to each other and thinks dirty martinis are for the weak (or perhaps just thinks olive juice is gross). If she listed all of her turn-ons, it would take up this whole bio, but they include smart people, tailored suits with serious ties, shoulder holsters, funny people, sacrifices made for love, power struggles, the walking wounded, bravery, and good old-fashioned shameless sluts.