Play It Again, Charlie by R. Cooper

“Never mind.”
    “How about you do something with that mouth besides talk?” the man grunted. Will twisted his head to the side, shrugging again, and Charlie narrowed his eyes, because no amount of shrugs was going to make that guy any less of an asshole.
    He stepped down all at once on the path, stumbling at the slice of pain he deserved for doing something so stupid but recovering by moving forward and extending his arms.
    The light switching on and hitting him full in the face made him wince. He turned away too late, way too late, because when he looked up and tried to see around the blinding light, he saw Will's head up. Charlie got the barest sense of the other man with him: dark hair, light skin, a collared shirt, broad shoulders.
    It was the halos at the edge of Charlie's vision that made it look like Will's mouth was moving, or open at all, frozen in a soft, startled version of his name.
    Charlie pulled himself up and pointed at the idiot who still hadn't seemed to notice that Will was no longer responding to him.
    “Take that inside,” he ordered loud enough to be heard. He didn't think he was blushing, but stayed keyed up when the silence stretched beyond that first shocked moment. Will wasn't laughing, though Charlie had let himself be caught staring like some kind of voyeur.
    “Who is that?” The man was turning around, but Will put a hand to his cheek, turned him back. Charlie's stomach knotted as he involuntarily counted the seconds until Will pulled away. He could feel the strain of standing still.
    “That's Linus Larrabee,” Will said, telling Charlie something in a voice that was just loud enough, and the name tugged at something Charlie hadn't thought about in years, like everything else about Will. Will wasn't looking at him, kept his gaze and his hands on his guest. “This is his building, and he likes to kick people out of it, so we'd better go inside.”
    “Will.” The name itself stuck in his throat. He wasn't sure Will heard it, but couldn't add anything else when Will bent down, whispering something in the other man's ear before jerking his head in the direction of the glass door.
    “Whatever you say, Sergeant Howard.” Only after he had made sure of the other man did Will finally speak to him, and the quiet words had an unfamiliar edge that made Charlie blink. Will probably couldn't see it. He only spared a moment to look at Charlie and then he moved before Charlie could open his mouth.
    “Come on,” Will murmured, leading the other man to the glass door without any effort at all.
    Charlie watched until the door shut with a hard click, until the blue light disappeared and he couldn't see anything else, and then he breathed in. The other light switched off as he turned back, but he barely slowed, scraping his feet as he found dirt and then cement again, his clothes catching on thorns before he was back inside his apartment.
    He shoved his shoulder against the door to close it and slammed one lock into place but stopped there. He barely stayed up for the two steps to the sink. He leaned against it and grabbed his water glass, held it without moving. He didn't bring the glass to his lips, though his mouth was dry and there was water left in the bottom. He could feel it through the glass, cold without any clinking ice. He tightened his fingers and then let go.
    The glass was too thick to break, but the noise made him flinch, like the water that splashed onto his hands. But there wasn't anyone to hear.
    Will had kissed that man, had curled his fingers into the back of his neck and drawn him closer and pressed open lips against his mouth, and Charlie didn't know what scent would have been on his breath, but he remembered citrus, sharp and warm.
    He was still hot, trembling against his counter, but knowing the image he made didn't stop him from opening his eyes, staring at the plain wall above the sink without seeing it. Will had done that on purpose, his moves turning deliberate in a way