repost- Play It Again Charlie snippet - The Proposal

[thatrcooper]

So. This is what happens in my current mood when I try to write cuddles. I swear to you, I just wanted cuddles. Sweet, loving cuddles. But first I got porn (very hot porn too, I might add) and then this. Which is… not even canon.

And yes, as creator I get to decide canon, and even though I wrote this just now, it isn’t at all how I imagined it before tonight, so I am Very Confused. So this is… sort of canon-ish? But not set in stone. (Or maybe)

“I just need a happy ending.” Will was not sobbing. He wasn’t crying. His eyes did sting a little, but it wasn’t like Charlie could see. He was sitting up against the back of the couch, a book in his hands, Will’s head on his thigh, his fingers gently stroking through Will’s hair. The book, which was a paperback but still thick, blocked Charlie’s view of Will’s face.

Which was good. Even though Will was not crying.

But he’d had a shitty day, and he’d come home just wanting something good to distract him, something light and happy and queer as fuck, and no matter how many times he flipped through Netflix for a new, good, happy GLBTQA movie, there was nothing. It was all stuff they had seen, or terrible rom coms, or worse—brilliant but tragic dramas where everyone died.

No one was going to die. Not tonight. But not even the camp factor of a classic Hollywood film with a queer villain was going to get him through this.

He continued flipping through the list, sniffing a little as his choices remained the same.

Charlie paused.

Will stopped madly skimming through the Netflix list.

“Did you say something?” Charlie murmured, his voice gravelly because he’d been reading for hours without saying a word. Will had stormed into the house, intending to make himself a drink so strong it would wipe the memory of his horrible day from his mind, and then seen Charlie in sweatpants and a t-shirt of all things, his reading glasses on, his hair sticking up as if he’d never bothered to comb it this morning, and just sank onto the couch and curled up on his side. Sometimes he thought his head belonged on Charlie’s knee, which was a weird thing to think, but Will thought a lot of weird things.

He was lucky to have this knee. He was in love with Charlie, but he was a little in love with this knee too, and the hand in his hair, even… even the cat cuddled against the backs of his legs. Okay, Will wasn’t in love with Sam, exactly, but this, this moment, this everything. How Charlie’s hand would sometimes still, as if his book got exciting, and then resume sliding through Will’s hair. Charlie loved Will’s hair, and Will loved that he loved it. And sometimes, when Will would shift, or stretch, Charlie would stop reading altogether to scratch softly between his shoulder blades, as if he didn’t want Will to leave. Then when Will settled again, Charlie’s hand would drift back to his hair, to lightly card through it.

Will let out a long breath. “I want a happy ending.”

That made Charlie pull himself from his book for real, at least for a moment. “What?”

And that, right there. Will loved Charlie’s brain and how fast it was, but he could do without how fast it jumped to the worst conclusion. Because he could tell Charlie was thinking Will wasn’t happy, and from there he was going to think Will wasn’t happy with him.

It hadn’t taken long to figure out that pattern, and while Will had done a lot of reading—well, internet searches—about anxiety, it was still a problem.

He moved so he could kiss Charlie’s knee. “Keep petting me.”

Charlie brushed his fingers along the back of Will’s neck, tickling over soft, well-moisturized skin. Will shivered, then kissed Charlie’s knee again. “I want a happy ending, Charlie.”

He could feel Charlie’s hesitation. Charlie closed the book and put it down. “Like… an orgasm?”

Will snorted. “Always, my darling.”

He had a feeling Charlie was frowning in confusion, but he didn’t feel like moving to check. “You stopped petting me,” Will complained mildly, and nearly purred when Charlie began to scratch his back. He arched toward Charlie’s hand and let his arm dangle off the couch. The remote dropped the floor.

“So, you want a happy ending?” Charlie prompted. Maybe it was selfish to demand this much attention when Charlie had been trying to relax too, but it didn’t feel that way. Will imagined Charlie’s handsome, stern face, his attention focused on Will and providing whatever Will needed. Charlie loved doing that.

Will was so gone on this big, handsome lug, honestly. He sighed with dreamy pleasure. Charlie slipped his hand under Will’s shirt to rub circles into his back. Will closed his eyes. “Hmm?”

Charlie paused. “Will,” he said, quietly stern, because this was a painful discussion they’d had early on that remained valid. Sometimes Will forgot to ask for what he wanted, and Charlie couldn’t read minds, and if Will wanted Charlie to not go crazy with worry, he had to be clear and use words that didn’t always come from films. “Happy endings?”

“The movies,” Will told him softly, without opening his eyes. “If they’re happy, and gay, they aren’t any good. And if they’re good, everyone dies. I want a happy ending. I want a big gay happy ending.” That wasn’t exactly true. There were a few movies he loved that weren’t miserable and self-hating or tragic, but they were also older, and that wasn’t what he needed tonight.

“Oh.” Charlie’s answer was a long time coming. Will knew about that now, too. How Charlie had never thought to ask for a happy ending in his life, so of course he’d never questioned movies or TV. He was probably deliberately blind to how many queer people died on TV. He probably hadn’t had queer movies on his Netflix queue before Will, unless it was something artsy—something sad, because that was what Charlie had expected.

“Did you eat today?” Charlie wondered, like, completely out of nowhere.

Will opened his eyes. “This isn’t because I’m hungry. It’s a real problem, and today was shit, and I just… I just….”

“Will.” Charlie pulled his hand out of Will’s shirt and hesitated for a second before placing his hand over the back of Will’s neck. It was too close to how it was during sex for Will not to go still, to let out a breath and shudder and wait for Charlie to take care of him. Charlie was careful. “I’m sorry Hollywood failed you, and keeps failing you.” He said it as if he knew how much Will relied on movies to stay level, and he might; he was so smart. Without warning, he trailed his fingers back through Will’s hair. “But maybe, maybe for now, I can make you dinner.”

“Charlie.” Will wasn’t protesting. His eyes burned, but it was easy to turn and hide his face against Charlie’s knee, and let Charlie keep stroking his hair.

“And you can tell me about your shit day, if you want.” Communication was so important to Charlie, with Charlie. Will nodded, and sniffled, and placed another stupid kiss to Charlie’s knee.

“I know…” Charlie trailed off, then cleared his throat and started again. “I know you’re hungry to see yourself onscreen. But… but for now… can I… can I be your happy ending?”

Will’s throat tightened so much he couldn’t speak for a few seconds. He stared blankly ahead, and then spun around, which startled poor Sam, who leapt away.

Charlie blinked at him, probably just as freaked out as his cat. God, was that more gray in his hair? How could he look tired and hot at the same time? It wasn’t fair. When Will was tired, he just looked tired.

As always, Will’s heart beat a little faster to find Charlie watching him. Charlie was the most amazing, loving person Will had ever met, but he didn’t see himself the way Will did. He didn’t see anything the way Will did. Will loved him anyway. Charlie was the kind of idiot who would ask if he could be Will’s happy ending, but just for now.

“As if I’m not in this for the long haul, Charlie.” Will gave him a distinctly wet, sniffly, sappy smile. “You’ve got me forever, and you’re asking for one night? You big dope.”

“Yeah?” Charlie twitched, as if he wanted to get up, then changed his mind. “Because I have—there’s, in the bedroom, a—you know, last year, when they made it official across the country….” He took a deep breath. “I can’t move when you’re on my leg.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so too bad.” Will was definitely crying, but Charlie just wiped his face for him, and then rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“It’s kind of important.”

“This is kind of important.” Will poked him in his stupidly flat stomach. “Really, Charlie? You want to be my happy ending for one night?”

“Or, um, forever.” Charlie glanced wildly around the room before his gaze settled on Will again. He was very, very tense all of the sudden. “If you wanted. There’s… there’s a ring. In the bedroom. But you won’t let me up.”

Will took one, long, deep breath and stared into a handsome, but terrified face.

“I didn’t mean to do it like this.” Charlie scowled. “I don’t even have anything to make you but pre-made pasta.”

“That’s the first meal you ever made for me,” Will pointed out, like an idiot. He blinked. “You… are you… asking me to—” He couldn’t say it. If he was wrong, it would kill him.

But he remembered coming home the day it was legalized nationwide, legalized for people like them, and Charlie stunned on the couch, and Will just laughing and laughing, and he hadn’t realized how much he had needed that until it was out there, on the news, for real.

“Will.” Charlie went all stern and serious, just like that, and Will was focused on him and nothing else in the world. “I’m sorry. Please marry me.”

Will was going to give him such crap later for that “I’m sorry.” That remnant of fucking Mark and the others like him. But for now he closed his eyes tight and let his tears run onto Charlie’s old sweatpants and nodded.

Because he wasn’t stupid, and this man was as close to perfect as it got.

And Will loved him awful.

And now he got to marry him. So he kissed Charlie’s thigh and nodded again so Charlie would understand through all his anxiety, and then he scrambled up to his knees to climb into Charlie’s lap, just so there wouldn’t be any more misunderstandings.

“Yes?” Charlie asked him, as if he honestly was surprised by this, so Will laughed in his face and pressed as close as he could without putting any pressure on Charlie’s hip. “The ring?” Charlie wondered, almost stuttering, which was exactly how he’d reacted the first time Will had worn a collar for him. As if he couldn’t believe anyone would want him that much.

Will sniffed and forced himself to be still so he could look Charlie dead in the eye, just to be sure. Charlie was serious, the way he was when he was the most nervous, and that was enough for Will. If he was dumb enough to propose to Will, then Will was saying yes.

“Fuck the ring,” Will told him, as if he wouldn’t be flashing it to everyone tomorrow. “Kiss me.”

And when Charlie took a breath, relieved, and started to smile with honest, painful joy, and looked as perfect and sexy as a man in sweatpants and messy hair could, Will realized he had done that. He’d done that by saying yes, and given Charlie the ending he’d been afraid to ask for. He was Charlie’s happy ending.

He leaned forward, and gave him a soft kiss, since he’d earned one. “You’re mine, too,” he told him, although Charlie only frowned briefly in confusion. It was okay. Will could explain later. He had a whole lifetime.