decided he wasn't sure he could risk Will being even slightly intoxicated, even if it was rude. It was too hard to remember that Will's touches and remarks weren't serious without Will as loose and warm as he'd been last night with alcohol in his system.
Will pouted at him when he saw the single beer, then worked his way back over to perch on the counter. It was as if he didn't register Charlie's bad manners at all, though Charlie could hear his Nana yelling at him every time he snapped. But then, Will had already dropped a potted plant on him and invited himself inside his apartment. He wasn't exactly Miss Manners’ favorite person either.
Charlie moved without any real destination and passed Will, shivering at the slight contact. He swallowed a mouthful of beer, then pulled one chair further out and sat down.
The unexpected, instant ache in his hips at finally taking the pressure off made him close his eyes. He'd been on his feet too much today.
He breathed out loudly as he settled, then opened his eyes, embarrassment coming and going when he saw Will's gaze passing over his face before traveling down to his leg.
It was his hip that had been shattered and, with a great deal of medical intervention, healed, but usually people assumed it was his leg when they saw the limp. They also liked to imagine a lot of danger once they found out he used to be a cop: liquor store holdups and gang fights, all that.
Will, at least, didn't try to look like he wasn't wondering about it, his stare sparking to what it was in dark places, taking far too long to come back up to Charlie's face, where Charlie could feel his blush.
Charlie twitched his eyebrows into a frown but didn't speak. There was nothing to say, really. He'd already done everything but tell Will to get out, but like with everything else in Charlie's life, what he wanted didn't seem to matter.
Will was watching him, and Charlie felt his attention fall back to the man's hair and then down to his face, wide green eyes and the full mouth and the first, faint traces of shadow at his jaw. The kid was slouched, his jeans tight but still loose enough to allow him to sit with his legs open, and Charlie's eyes slipped further down, slowly, like one drink of beer was enough to make him drunk.
Maybe it was, maybe he'd forgotten what it felt like to have a lot of alcohol swimming in his system, because his mouth was dry as he stared at the slightly stretched dark cotton, and he took too long to blink when Will pushed himself from the counter. He shook himself, trying to snap out of it, to not see the play of muscles in Will's arms at the movement.
“Does it hurt?” Every move that Will made was as smooth as his voice, and Charlie stared at him with stinging eyes, unsure of what Will was even talking about. He shook his head anyway, reflex or pride, must not have been convincing because Will was in front of him again, in front of him with their shoes bumping into each other and Will's jeans within reach. The jeans were slung low on his hips, seemed lower than before, barely covered by the bottom of the T-shirt.
Charlie realized his legs were open, denim just rubbing against his knees, the inside of his thighs.
He sucked in a breath, too aware again of the beautiful man in front of him, smiling at him. He was sweating and probably red in the face but couldn't look down, not when he knew exactly where his gaze would get stuck. And while Will was clearly not shy, Charlie was only going to embarrass himself if he kept staring.
But Will was pressing close, and the heat of their near contact, how close they were to touching, was making him as dizzy as it had last night. His limbs felt shaky.
“Can I help?” Will wondered quietly, like he knew just what Charlie's dilemma was, and Charlie's beer slipped in his hand. Will's fingers instantly slid over his, hot, curling around the bottle, and Charlie felt himself staring and not saying a thing when Will took the bottle from him.
It
Will pouted at him when he saw the single beer, then worked his way back over to perch on the counter. It was as if he didn't register Charlie's bad manners at all, though Charlie could hear his Nana yelling at him every time he snapped. But then, Will had already dropped a potted plant on him and invited himself inside his apartment. He wasn't exactly Miss Manners’ favorite person either.
Charlie moved without any real destination and passed Will, shivering at the slight contact. He swallowed a mouthful of beer, then pulled one chair further out and sat down.
The unexpected, instant ache in his hips at finally taking the pressure off made him close his eyes. He'd been on his feet too much today.
He breathed out loudly as he settled, then opened his eyes, embarrassment coming and going when he saw Will's gaze passing over his face before traveling down to his leg.
It was his hip that had been shattered and, with a great deal of medical intervention, healed, but usually people assumed it was his leg when they saw the limp. They also liked to imagine a lot of danger once they found out he used to be a cop: liquor store holdups and gang fights, all that.
Will, at least, didn't try to look like he wasn't wondering about it, his stare sparking to what it was in dark places, taking far too long to come back up to Charlie's face, where Charlie could feel his blush.
Charlie twitched his eyebrows into a frown but didn't speak. There was nothing to say, really. He'd already done everything but tell Will to get out, but like with everything else in Charlie's life, what he wanted didn't seem to matter.
Will was watching him, and Charlie felt his attention fall back to the man's hair and then down to his face, wide green eyes and the full mouth and the first, faint traces of shadow at his jaw. The kid was slouched, his jeans tight but still loose enough to allow him to sit with his legs open, and Charlie's eyes slipped further down, slowly, like one drink of beer was enough to make him drunk.
Maybe it was, maybe he'd forgotten what it felt like to have a lot of alcohol swimming in his system, because his mouth was dry as he stared at the slightly stretched dark cotton, and he took too long to blink when Will pushed himself from the counter. He shook himself, trying to snap out of it, to not see the play of muscles in Will's arms at the movement.
“Does it hurt?” Every move that Will made was as smooth as his voice, and Charlie stared at him with stinging eyes, unsure of what Will was even talking about. He shook his head anyway, reflex or pride, must not have been convincing because Will was in front of him again, in front of him with their shoes bumping into each other and Will's jeans within reach. The jeans were slung low on his hips, seemed lower than before, barely covered by the bottom of the T-shirt.
Charlie realized his legs were open, denim just rubbing against his knees, the inside of his thighs.
He sucked in a breath, too aware again of the beautiful man in front of him, smiling at him. He was sweating and probably red in the face but couldn't look down, not when he knew exactly where his gaze would get stuck. And while Will was clearly not shy, Charlie was only going to embarrass himself if he kept staring.
But Will was pressing close, and the heat of their near contact, how close they were to touching, was making him as dizzy as it had last night. His limbs felt shaky.
“Can I help?” Will wondered quietly, like he knew just what Charlie's dilemma was, and Charlie's beer slipped in his hand. Will's fingers instantly slid over his, hot, curling around the bottle, and Charlie felt himself staring and not saying a thing when Will took the bottle from him.
It
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