Play It Again, Charlie by R. Cooper

for drug money.”
    It was just ludicrous enough to make Charlie blink.
    “I didn't buy eggs,” he said back, then he cleared his throat as he thrust the bag of groceries at Will and looked at his keys.
    “No eggs,” Will remarked from behind him as Charlie flipped through shed and apartment master keys, his car, his office, and found his door key at last. Will was apparently looking through his groceries with the same concentration. “Just cans, some bread, lactose-free milk, pasta, and... cat food?”
    Charlie unlocked the door and half turned. He was holding the door open with one hand and could feel himself staring when Will ducked under his arm and walked inside.
    For a few moments he stood there, not exactly sure when he had last had anyone over the age of six in his kitchen, damn sure he'd never had anyone like Will in it. Will was all smooth motion in front of the brown-and-white wood cabinets, trailing hands over the toaster and microwave like he'd never seen appliances before.
    The only other colors in Charlie's small, simple kitchen were the pictures of his niece and nephew on the fridge and the blue dishtowels.
    “Big bad Sergeant Howard has a kitty?” Will asked as he set the bag down on the counter, and Charlie managed to finally get himself moving again, hesitating before he closed the door.
    “What are you doing?” The question slipped out as Will's hand disappeared into the paper bag. It slowly reappeared, holding the dry food that Charlie mixed in with Sam's wet food. At his question, Will was caught looking like a kid sneaking a cookie, guilty and adorable, and Charlie swallowed his next words telling Will to get out.
    “So you've helped me,” he said instead, leaving the obvious finish unspoken. Will quickly directed his look at the ingredients list on the bag, then set it down and made himself busy glancing at the stove. He'd probably never seen one of those, either. And he was giving no sign that he understood what Charlie was telling him. “So thanks and"— Will looked up and Charlie changed what he'd been about to say—"I'll see you later.”
    Will's eyelashes swept down in something that wasn't quite flirtatious, and when they came up, his eyes were bright with hurt. That the look was clearly well practiced didn't make it any less effective. Charlie stayed silent, and Will's expression shifted to faint shock at being kicked out that could have been real. Charlie really doubted anybody else would kick Will out of their homes.
    Of course, for Will to leave, Charlie would have to move from the door, and he didn't seem to be moving. His kitchen was small— to get away he would have to slide past Will, and as he considered just how much of him would come into contact with the other man, he glanced up and saw Will doing the same.
    It was the smile that spurred him forward. Charlie grabbed the bag and faced the stove, taking out his groceries one at a time. He turned to the fridge and put away the milk. The fridge seemed abnormally bright, and he remembered the lights and hit the wall switch before he looked back.
    Will's gaze wasn't on him. He was at the edge of the counter, looking over the dining area, also known as the small table with two chairs, and the living room.
    “Are those for your leg?” He was only aware that he'd gone silent when Will spoke. Will waved a hand at the top of the refrigerator, and Charlie didn't correct his mistake, focused on his pill bottles, reached out to hide the prescription before making himself stop.
    “I'm not going to steal them either, silly bear,” Will chided him, glancing over. The sideways look through his lashes seemed familiar somehow, like something from an old movie poster. Charlie shut his slightly slack mouth and narrowed his eyes, pretending not to see the guileless expression Will was no doubt faking for him now. “If I were, I wouldn't have mentioned them, would I?”
    A neatly logical trap that increased Charlie's confusion, since Will