Discover Top Posts Tagged with #chuckiewill

some of it is transcendental (some of it is just really dumb)

rating: E

themes: trauma, implied/referenced past child abuse, pre-canon, internalized homophobia, p--n with feelings/plot

incomplete work crossposting from a03. basically will and chuckie reuniting when will is out of the hospital/out of the foster care system and is about to start living with him. lots of trauma related shame and internalized homophobia. boston yaoi amirite?

—

One hour.

The cops said they would stay on the premises for one hour while he took his things out of the house. That’s what they told him the day he was discharged. He didn’t have any time to call Billy, or Morgan, or Chuckie. His real family. Because they’d waited long enough after his surgery that he could leave on his own, then picked him up in the cruiser to take him to dear ol’ dad’s place. It was kind of nice to take the ride in the front seat for once.

There wasn’t much he respected about the head of his foster family, but he knew how to put on a show. He wasn’t belligerent in public, when the cops marched Will to the door, he greeted them warmly and encouraged them to sit. The social worker had talked to him on the phone about this (it was too short notice for them to come down to some Catholic hospital full of addicts in Southie) because he would be 18 in a few weeks, he could skip the relocation hearing. But if he did, that means they can’t keep his fosters off of the property while he’s getting his things.

So Will stood on the stairs for a few moments and he could tell that even though they’d seen the ripped, bloody clothes in evidence, and the DNA swabs, and the horrible fucking photos they took of Will in his boxers to show his injuries for their “files,” they didn’t believe him. Not without due process, not while they stood in the living room with the man who dislocated his shoulder and talked shop about the Sox.

Everything he really needed to take fit into his gym bag. He left behind the shiny, pressed, church clothes they’d gotten him when he was fourteen. He grabs a pack of baseball cards, some money he skimmed from the swear jar, and his last check out from the library. In under half an hour, he’s ready to be an orphan again. He stands in his room for the last time. Over the last three years, he might not have felt perfectly safe there, but it was better than any other part of the house.

Will put his duffle over his shoulder and got ready to head downstairs, but stopped in his tracks as he heard the stairs creak. Heavy steps. It wasn’t his foster mother. As useless as she was, she’d never been as bad as her husband. He might have liked to say goodbye to her. His hands started to shake, so he gripped his bag tighter and turned towards the door. Someone knocked, which was useless because they didn’t wait for him before they opened it.

Will let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was maybe the first time he felt happy to see a cop.

“Hey, uh… Just makin’ sure everythin’s copasetic here.”

“I’m fine.” Will gave him a thumbs up. “Ready to go.”

The cop nodded and walked out. Will followed a few steps behind down the stairs. When he was back in the living room, he glanced at the table next to the couch. They’d been having coffee.

When he looked back up, his foster father was only a few feet away from him. Will didn’t process anything anyone was saying, but before he knew it he was enveloped in a hug. Short, with a clap on the shoulder. His body locked up as he heard his foster father say something into his ear.

“You’ll always be my favorite boy.”

Will blinked twice and when he opened his eyes he was on the lawn outside and the cops were guiding him into the back, with his bag.

“Kid? Hey, kid?”

Will zoned back in. He looked out the window. They were halfway down the block.

“Where should we take you?”

“Uh… The diner on East 6th is fine.”

He jumps out on the corner, bids the guys adieu, and walks over to the payphone, fishing for the swear jar quarters in his pocket. He dials one of the only 800- numbers he’s bothered to save. It’s agony as he waits for the line to pick up. He just wants a familiar voice in his ear.

“Boston Disposal and Demolition. Charles speakin’.”

“Charles?”

Will swears he can hear Chuckie smile through the phone.

“Fuck off, Will.”

—

Will’s sitting at the counter nursing a coffee because it’s all he has money for. He’s spent the last twenty minutes looking over his right shoulder when the bell over the door rings. He knows it’s not going to be Chuckie until after his shift ends, at five. He finds the clock on the wall by the kitchen. Another hour and a half.

He starts to shake his leg. He wonders what people think about him being here, looking like he does, practically carrying a bindle and wearing a straw hat with how much he screams teen runaway, please take advantage.

The bell rings again. Will keeps his eyes down. Someone that smells like Axe and asbestos hugs him under the arms. He stiffens up.

“What’s up, you friggin’ jack-off?” Chuckie lets go of him and musses Will’s hair.

“Next time you assault me in public, take a fuckin’ shower, Charles.”

Chuckie sits in the seat next to Will and orders black coffee and a burger, toots. Which Toots the Waitress does not appreciate, but she puts the order in anyway.

“This is why I told you little jerks not to call me at work.”

“Well, this was kind of important.”

“I know, that’s why I blew off.”

The waitress brings his coffee and Chuckie takes a sip without blowing on it. Will figures it’s because for the next five weeks, they’re on opposite sides of some ineffable thing that separates boys and men. Chuckie drives and drinks hot coffee and works on the books, then uses that money to buy the cigarettes that Will just steals. Chuckie wasn’t anybody’s favorite whipping boy.

“You look good. In spite of the whole hospital thing.”

“Yeah, they kind of fix you up before they let you on the street again.”

“Makes sense, makes sense.” Chuckie nods like Will has given him something deep and philosophical to think about. “So, I’m your first call on the outside?”

“Who else would I call? I’m not goin’ back there. They asked if I wanna go through relocation, litigation, back to St. Gertrude’s hall, just to turn eighteen and get the fuckin’ boot at the end of it. I said nah, I’ll find someplace to crash.”

“Will Hunting’s a free agent? Fuckin’ A, man, I didn’t think the day would come so soon.”

“I’m not exactly hittin’ the ground runnin’, but… Y’know, bullshit heals. Freedom’s forever.”

“Forever forever.” He smiles, looking forward as he elbows Will gently, causing his friend to smile too.

“What’d you tell them at work to get them to let you go?”

“Some fuckin’ tall tale about my girlfriend at BU windin’ up in the hospital.”

“You’re a class act, y’know that, Charles?”

“I am. See, her family’s down in Memphis so I’m kinda all she’s got.”

“Makes sense. She’s lucky to have you. You knock her up or somethin’?”

“Of course, but after the car accident I’m pretty sure my hands are clean.”

Will cracks up at that, it’s the kind of thing the nuns would probably tan their asses for back at school, but since Chuckie turned 18, he hasn’t had to worry about shit like that.

“Be careful, your chocolate milk’s gonna come flyin’ out your nose.”

“You wish, asshole.”

“Watch your mouth, bucko, you’re gonna be livin’ under my roof for the next couple months, ain’t you?”

Will sips his coffee, it’s cold and he still takes it with cream and sugar, so at this point it is more chocolate milk than mornin’ joe. “Under your ma’s roof.”

“I pay the telephone bill, so… Don’t expect to be callin’ the circulation desk on my dime with that attitude.”

“I think I can put off callin’ you an asshole until they get the complete plays of Oscar Wilde.”

“Right, right.” The waitress drops his burger off. “When we get back after this, I gotta introduce you to his cousin Girls Gone Wild.”

Will nods, but he’s staring at the burger. He hasn’t eaten since the hospital oatmeal with orange segments he had this morning. Chuckie slides it toward him.

“I got it for you, dumbass. Get your strength back.”

Will doesn’t say anything as he starts to tear into it. Chuckie steals a fry and lets him finish without expecting any more conversation out of him.

—

"So… You were cookin’, then he shoved you and you go bang, right down the basement steps while you were holdin’ the knife?" Chuckie pipes up on the drive home.

"Yeah, that’s it.”

“What were you makin’?”

“Chicken pot pie or somethin’, I don’t know." Will's eyes dart out the window. He rubs his thumb against the inside of his lip.

They pulled up to the Sullivan house. The lights were out, which was usual. His dad worked on an oil rig and his mom liked to take advantage of him being away almost as much as her son did. Provided Billy and Morgan stayed out of their hair, Will was certain to have a nice, quiet recovery there.

The cops had to keep his clothes so he was dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants from the hospital. Chuckie never heard of the cops taking clothes for evidence before, but it had to be routine for child abuse. In his view, anyways. All he knew was that the story Will told wasn’t completely true, but what could Chuckie do about that? Kids who get hit lie more than kids who don’t.

Will tried to get out as soon as the car stopped, which made Chuckie practically slide across the hood to get to him and help him up.

"Well, hello there." Will chuckled at his display.

"You said they did surgery. I thought you're not supposed to strain yourself."

He extends his hand to Will, who takes it and lets Chuckie haul him up, out of the car. Will thinks he can stand just fine, but a jolt of pain in his body, where the knife was, makes him collapse forward against Chuckie's chest.

"Shit, you okay?"

Will winces at the feeling. Not just from the blade, the idea that he's been made weaker from what happened to him. That part of him will be broken and exposed forever.

"Yeah…” He backs away from Chuckie. “Chill got me, that's all."

Chuckie locks the car up and the two of them part, Chuckie grabs his bag and starts trailing behind Will to see if anything else gives him "a chill." It doesn't. He goes around and unlocks the door, letting Will into the living room where he zeros in on a box of donuts on the coffee table.

"Sorry, man, they're not that fresh…"

Will grabs a Boston Cream and splits it in half. "Don't fuckin' care."

Chuckie smiles at the way he eats, licking some of the cream so it doesn't squeeze out with his next bite. It's some quirk he's done since they were kids. Not that they aren't still young.

That's what scares Chuckie. He might be able to drive and work and everything, but Will can't. Especially not for the next few weeks while he's recovering. Especially if they don't throw that bastard in jail. Even if Will got a nice gig stocking shelves at the grocery store, he knows his friend. He knows Will would split and lose it the second that guy walked up to him asking for the cream of mushroom soup.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Will says with his mouth full.

"Nothin’, man. Just… Thinkin’."

Will smirks. "That's a first for you, buddy."

Chuckie speaks as he crosses to sit next to Will on the couch. "Hey, don't think just 'cause you're recoverin’ I won't flatten your ass when you're better."

"Oh, yeah, sure you will. And I'll be a witness at your folk's divorce."

He pinches Will's ear and tugs it. It's the only harm he's willing to cause him like this. For a moment they're both laughing, then Chuckie's eyes fall on the open bit of the hoodie where Will's skin is showing and he realizes there's a scratch. Up near Will's heart. Chuckie realizes whatever he was hurt with could have got him in the heart. It makes him wonder what he doesn’t know about. Even more than he wondered before.

"My eyes are up here, thanks."

Chuckie looks up at Will's face and realizes he'd been caught staring.

"I'm sorry."

"…For what? You didn't do anythin’. I'm sorry you had to leave work to get me, I just… I didn't have anybody else to call."

"No, come on. I would drop everythin’ to be with you, man. I love you. You're my only brother, I can't let somethin’ happen to you."

Will's cheeks flush, he feels warm inside from a mix of embarrassment and affection. He stammers a little bit, no one's ever said something like that before. Sure, him and Chuckie will exchange an "I love you, brother" over a few beers, but this is real. Chuckie does love him. He has to or else Will wouldn't be sitting on his couch right now.

He really can't think of anything to say to him, so he just folds a leg under himself, half kneeling, as he leans forward and hugs him. Chuckie knows not to say anything back either. He puts an arm around Will's waist, being mindful of whatever injuries he could have there. He knows it's probably the last few days of hospital food making Will seem frail and boney, but Chuckie never realized how small he was until now. He was always shorter, he was never particularly strong. But Chuckie's never had his body pressed against his for so long. He's never felt his ribs underhand through a thin, scratchy hoodie. He's never thought about how perfectly their bodies fit together.

Chuckie takes a deep breath and notices Will doesn't fully smell like himself. His hair is still a little greasy, holding onto the Old Spice and cigarette smell that he usually has, but his body still smells like sterile hospital soap, only covered up slightly by whatever deodorant he got his hands on while moving out.

Will sinks into Chuckie's body even more and that's where it ends. Somebody's weight shifted on the remote, making ESPN's coverage of the Orioles game rip through the room at top volume. They separate from each other with a laugh, rearranging themselves to sit knee to knee as Chuckie feels around for the remote and starts channel flipping when he finds it.

"I heard they put Blue Lagoon on Home Box Office." Will says.

"That film is such a steamin’ shit, dude."

"You don't want to see Brooke Shields?"

"No, does Tiny Tim want to?"

Will rolls his eyes. "They don't have Skin-amax in the hospital, sue me."

Chuckie rolls his eyes and flips to the premium channels. The premium content wasn’t coming on anytime soon and some fruity comedy called The Birdcage was on until then, so he let it run until the real action came.

Will points toward the screen. "That guy's funny, the guy in the dress."

"Who is he?"

Will sucks his teeth. "You know, man, he's the voice in the Lion King."

“Ferris Bueller?"

“No, the meerkat.”

"Oh..."

They'd been fans of that movie growing up. Chuckie's mom even got them Timon and Pumba lunch bags one year for back to school. He never imagined that one of them was played by a guy so… mincing. Will cracked up a little bit, but tried not to disturb his stitches. Chuckie just sat there, a little awed by how ouvert everything was.

He looked over at Will. “Y’know… I’ve got somethin’ better than Brooke Shields.”

Will didn’t react, paying attention to the movie. Chuckie walked away, but over the rest of the film, Will heard him pad upstairs to his bedroom. He came back brandishing a video tape. He put it into the tapedeck and sat back with the remote.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’? One of us was watchin’ that.”

“If you wanna watch a guy prance around in a dress, we can play in my ma’s closet later.”

Will crossed his arms, waiting to see what Chuckie had brought down. In a perfectly topical move, it was a hospital full of sexy nurses. Chuckie was particularly locked in on a girl with a sandy blonde bob and perky tits that poked out of the neckline of her nurse's uniform a little bit. He turned to Will to see if he was enjoying himself, only to find him looking over at Chuckie. Chuck smiled at him, he had to. He was kind of glad things were going back to normal so quickly. Will hesitated, but smiled back.

“She looks just like Tiff, doesn't she?”

“Yeah,” Will elbows him in the ribs a little bit. “Exactly your type.”

“You say it like you didn’t nail her, too.”

“I didn't. She looked like she could be my sister.”

Chuckie turned back to the screen just as the dusty blonde started wringing sponge bath water all over her breasts. It was then he realized Will was right. If anything, the porn star looked more like Will than Tiff did. She kind of had the same hair color as him. The same sad look in her eyes, with that pouty bottom lip. But he didn't want to think about that right now.

“Personally, I’m shocked the whole sister thing turned you off. I know you love my seconds.”

“Shut up, man. I’m gonna hurl thinking about your sloppy seconds.”

“Oh, is that why you never stick with them?”

“Shut up and watch your fuckin’ movie.”

Will tried to watch the movie, but being so close to Chuckie distracted him. They didn't usually hug and sit together before watching porn. And they almost never did it without Morgan or Billy around. The closeness made him not want to look away.

He glanced away from the screen. Chuckie was locked in on the blonde nurse slipping her hand under some guy's nightgown. Without thinking twice, Will spread his hand out and put his fingers on Chuckie's thigh. He gently started prodding the other man's leg, slowly trailing as the film played on. One button undone on the nurse's dress. Will's hand ventured an inch closer to the inseam on Chuckie's jeans. Slightly squeezing the muscles thigh beneath the baggy denim. By the time her bra was off, Will's pinky was against the end of his fly.

Chuckie grabs Will's wrist, his middle finger presses into a small burn covered with silicone tape.

"…Easy there, Romeo. What are you trying to..."

"I mean..." He raises his eyebrows. "Feels better when somebody else does it for you, doesn't it?"

"Feels better when a girl does it, yeah."

"Feels best when a girl does it. Feels better when somebody else does."

Chuckie stares at him, then glances down at their hands. He squeezes Will’s wrist fondly. "You know I'd never ask you to do that, kid."

"You don't gotta ask me, I want to."

"Why?"

"You earned it."

“I didn't earn shit.” Chuckie swallows a lump he didn't notice had set up shop in his throat. "I was happy to pick you up, Will, that's a f-fucking privilege."

Will kneels on the couch again, Chuckie's grip on his wrist melted like butter, his fingers trailed down to Will’s palm, letting him move freely. Will leans in, almost nose to nose, his finger hooks in the waist of his pants. If they were further apart, the soft hah that dripped from Chuckie's lips wouldn't have been audible. It wouldn't have made Will smile and want to do it again.

"I can tell you need it. I'm sorry you had to see me like this. Let me help you forget."

Chuckie shoves his hand away. "I can't forget about that, Will."

"So you're not even going to let me try? Huh? I just have to sit here and pretend nothing's different while you think of me as some fucking weakling?"

"Mother of God, Will, I don't think that!"

"No, you do. That's why you won't let me do this, you think I'm some dumb fucking kid who doesn't know what he's doing. I know. I know I want to do this for you."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself."

The rejection rocks Will to his core, right under the dull thrum of pain from his wound. He trembles under Chuckie's grip. Realizing what's starting to happen, Chuckie softens right away.

"I didn't… I don't mean it like that, Will. C'mon, you know I don't—"

Will curls around Chuckie’s side, hot tears of frustration start to soak his shoulder.

“Do you have any idea what the last week of my life has been like? The last five fucking hours even?” His hands come up to ball into Chuckie’s shirt. “It’s been hell. I’ve been in hell. Don’t think you’re protecting me by saying some white knight bullshit. I don’t fuckin’ need it.”

Chuckie's dumbstruck, his whole body feels hot. He's embarrassed. For himself. For Will. He keeps his hands at his sides. He doesn’t know if he should pull Will closer or push him away. He hardly notices what’s going on around him. Not the porno still playing and least of all Will’s hand until it presses between his thighs again.

Chuckie already knew he was hard, but getting grabbed like that sends him to full attention faster than he’s ever been. Not with porn, not win any girl from the neighborhood.

Will’s voice is raw. "You don't want this to stop, right?"

Chuckie want to rip their clothes off and show him how much he wanted to keep going. But that feels like a shitty, evil thing to do after seeing him like this. After feeling his body heave against his. Knowing which hand they stabbed his IV into. Knowing he has to sleep on this couch tonight because somebody at home tried to stab him. Knowing he fainted on the playground in fifth grade because family number four forgot to feed him. He knows too much about his history to want to be a part of the next, fucked up chapter.

“More…” He chokes it out, just as strained as Will’s.

He feels Will’s mouth curl against his neck, that makes Chuckie smile, too, for a moment. The next thing he knows, Will’s moving his hand again and he's rolling his eyes back while getting an over the pants handjob from his best friend.

It isn't bad, is what gets him. Even though it's Will, and he smells like hospital, and he just cried his eyes out into the shoulder of Chuckie's favorite work shirt, he can moan and sigh freely, like this isn’t going down in history as one of the biggest Boston tragedies since the fuckin’ molasses flood. Eventually, he opens up his eyes and he can see Will staring at him, licking his lips. Chuckie never noticed they were so pink.

"S'good?"

For some reason, he looks down at the spot where Will's hand, covered in bruises and burn patches and calluses on his palms from hanging on the monkey bars when they go smoke at the park, is grabbing his dick. Neither of them can ignore the way it throbs when he looks back at Will’s face.

"S'real good."

Will nods and brings his hand up, slowly starting to undo the other’s fly. Chuckie guides his hand away and begins to undress himself, getting his pants down to his ankles as Will sits there, watching him enraptured. Then, Chuckie stops, he puts his hand on Will's cheek. There's a small bruise, right below his eye. That's the last thing Chuckie saw before Will leaned in and kissed him. He sighed into it, almost melting against Will's body. He slid his hands down his sides, grabbing his waist before a sharp gasp from Will reminded him that was a bad idea.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry dude, fuck... Are you good? Where does it hurt?"

Without thinking, he opened Will’s hoodie, taking his first real look at the damage on his body.

They’re both silent as Chuckie looks at him. Will has bruises on his chest and arm that, to Chuckie, look a lot like his foster father’s loafers. Another one on his shoulder that looks like a wildly different shape. They’re striking, still black and blue with just little flashes of yellow on the outside. The gash under his collar that he noticed is in line with a second, deeper one on his stomach that had to be stitched close.

“The stairs…”

“Don't act surprised.”

“I am, Will, it's never been like this before. Not even that ashtray bitch left you like this.”

“It’s not that bad. S’not like I have to go back anytime soon.”

Chuckie brings out his hand to touch Will’s side and it takes every ounce of the smaller boy’s strength to not flinch away. He hates that he needs to tell himself that he's safe here.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, I'm alright. I swear."

Chuckie nods, then sits back against the arm of the couch. It isn't long before Will leans forward, falling on top of him again and hugging him around his shoulders. He reaches behind Chuckie and turns off the light, leaving the porno as their only light. He kisses Chuckie again, the weight of Will sitting on his boner pulls a pleasant hum from him. They don't go too far with it, no tongue, no passion. They both know better than that. The way their lips come together is almost chaste, just something to do with their mouths. Will’s lips move to Chuckie's cheek, then his jaw. His hands shove under the hem of his cotton Boston D&D t-shirt.

"Have you done something like this before?" Chuckie asked.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it."

Chuckie lifts his arms up, letting Will have him bare as he kisses his way down his front. He takes his time on that. He likes biting patches of skin on Chuckie’s abs. A hand pets Will’s hair. They let themselves enjoy it a little too much and a few dark marks appear on Chuckie’s stomach by the time Will gets to where he was going. He presses a kiss against Chuckie’s head through his boxers.

"Jesus, Will, holy fuck—"

Will looks up at him with a smirk in his eyes, then continues. It's just a hummer, but it's more than Chuckie thought he would get tonight. Everything he's ignoring by focusing on the gentle rumble from Will’s mouth seems to make it more intense. Hot shame licks at both their heels in a way it doesn’t when they’re with girls. Neither of them are thinking about Will’s body, or if this means anything, or what’s gonna happen if Chuckie’s mom walks in. Chuckie rolls his hips up into Will’s face, which he apparently doesn't like so Will brings his own hands down into Chuckie’s lap, pinning him to the couch.

He tries shaking his grip. Nothing. None of the girls he fucks are strong enough to pull that off. None. Almost as soon as Will puts his mouth on him again, he blows his load.

Chuckie comes down absolutely euphoric, nothing has come crashing in yet. Then he looks down at Will and notices he’s wiping a stripe of jizz off his chin and everything gets a little more real. He doesn't say anything. He just pulls his pants back up and extends a hand to pick up Will.

“Thanks.”

Will sat back on the couch and looked at the porn on the living room TV. He didn’t even register that the orderlies and nurses started fucking each other, but he has to keep his eyes forward because he can feel Chuckie looking at him. Like he wants something else.

“Hey.”

Will doesn’t turn to look at him. “Hey yourself.”

“Do you want me to…”

“No.” He smiles and gawfs at the suggestion. “Not like that anyways.”

Chuckie leans back with his arm over the couch, his arm is almost long enough to reach Will’s shoulder from over there. “How do you want it, then?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t wanna get your rocks off?”

Will sighs and keeps looking forward. He’s sweating a little bit because he does. He’s human, hearing somebody else cum turned him on. If he was being honest, just being held by Chuckie started to turn him on. He understood those girls at the bar that liked to grab his muscles and offer to climb him like a tree. Liking that… It could mean nothing, but the idea of letting himself be touched and looked at by Chuckie is something. Something that’s a little off. Like having your shoes on the wrong feet.

“You don’t have to offer just because I did you.”

“You deserve it. After seeing me like this.” He laughs at himself, which makes Will turn and laugh at him too.

It’s hard to make himself want to deny it when he’s looking at Chuckie. It’d be easier if they couldn’t see each other, Will thinks. It’d been the middle of the afternoon when Chuckie met him at the diner, and now the windows didn’t give off any light. They were just blue-tinged glass squares, so when someone turned off the television, it was nearly black in the living room.

Will hears the remote drop to the floor as Chuckie moves to sit closer to him. He puts his hand on the small of Will’s back gently, like he’s afraid to break him. Any other time, Will would be insulted by the move, but he’d give anything to not be reminded of the state he was in. If soft touching like he was made of glass or porcelain, something more valuable than shit was the way to do it, he’d take it.

Chuckie leans in toward Will’s neck, careful not to put weight on the bruise he knows is there. He presses a soft kiss to his neck and that’s the first time Will flinches away from him in earnest all night.

“Should I stop-”

“No.” Will whispered sharply.

Chuckie takes the word to heart and slowly removes Will’s hoodie. Will feels lips on his body again, to the dull thrumming spot on his shoulder blade where it dislocated. He sighs and relaxes against Chuckie a bit more. He never wanted someone to kiss his “booboos,” and at his age he didn’t think he needed it, but it filled him with an undeniable ease anyways.

“Can I keep touching you?” He shifted his hands to Will’s thighs.

“Not… not my stomach.”

Chuckie kisses him again, on his back hairline. When he talks, his lips mumble against his skin. “So this is fine?”

Will’s breath picks up into a pant as Chuckie runs his fingers over the inside of Will’s thighs, teasing toward and away from his erection as he moves.

“Just jerk me off, you fuckin’ asshole.”

Chuckie brings his hand up to Will’s unmarred pec, squeezing it. “God forbid I take my time. You ain’t never read about foreplay?"

“Foreplay’s for virgins and high end escorts.”

He arches against Chuckie enough to pull his sweatpants down. Chuckie kisses Will’s neck and it makes him squirm. It’s not a fair fight anymore if he’s going to do shit like that. Will only kissed him once or twice. Not that he was keeping score. If he was, he’d take points off for the sound Chuckie rips out of him from pinching his nipple.

“Chuckie.”

“That’s my name.” His hand dips low between Will’s legs and cups him though his shorts.

Will sighs. “Thank you, was that hard?”

“You are.”

Will rolls his eyes at the bad joke, but quickly falls into a rhythm of panting and moaning as Chuckie begins to work him over. He doesn’t buck into his touch, he just lets him do what he wants. He thinks the only thing more humiliating than humping your friend’s hand is pulling a stitch while you do it.

“You sound wicked hot.” He kisses Will’s neck again. He can already tell he’s going to want to do this every time he looks at him from now on. “Can’t wait to make you cum your fuckin’ brains out.”

“Then make me cum my f-fuckin’ brains out already.”

Chuckie dips his hand through the hole in Will’s boxers and starts to jerk him off in earnest, not just fondle him through his clothes. He’d pay money to switch on the lamp and see what Will’s face looked like as his head lolled back onto Chuckie’s shoulder. He adjusts their position a bit, as gently as he can with one free hand.

“Keep talkin’, fuckin’-A.” He sighed into Will’s ear. “You’re better than a pornstar.”

Will laughed a little bit at that. “Yeah? That turn you on?”

“I dunno about all that, but I find it encouraging with ya fuckin’ dick in my hand.”

This side of Chuckie isn’t new to him. He’s heard him flirt, he’s heard him fuck, he’s heard him talk girls through it in the front seat and pretended not to. But it’s brand new knowing what Chuckie’s saying is about him. He lets himself go limp against Chuckie’s body, making sure he lets every sound that’s pulled out of him makes it to Chuckie’s ears.

“Chuckie…”

“That’s it, say my fuckin’ name.”

“Yank it like you mean it and I’ll do anything you say.”

Chuckie brings his hand up and spits. “I find that hard to fucking believe.”

“Wh-” he gets cut off by his own moan when Chuck takes him into his warm, suddenly slick hand.

Chuckie licked a stripe from shoulder to shoulder and is strangely satisfied by the fact that the sterile hospital smell that was all over Will’s body has dissipated. Thanks to him, Will just smells like sex.

“Chuckie…” Will whines, fully slack against his friend. “Almost."

“Sh, yeah, I know. I got you.” He speeds up a bit. “Feels good, yeah?”

“Wicked good, man.” He sounds wrecked, his voice shaking.

“S’what I like to hear.”

Will bites his tongue as he cums into Chuckie’s hand, but neither of them mind. Least of all Chuckie. He admired how Will managed to be so aloof and mature seeming, but like this he was like an open book.

Will laid against Chuckie completely, to the point that when he was ready to get up, he didn’t bother asking Will to stir. He just picked him up and placed him down on the couch. The light flicked on as he left the room. Will laid on the couch feeling like he was floating, like he was sailing in the sky and his body was battered and cum coated and stuck to the earth.

Chuckie walked back in and dropped one of his mother’s kitchen towels onto his chest. They locked eyes as Chuckie smiled around the rim of the beer he was drinking. Will slowly sat up, using the towel to wipe his sweat before any other substance.

“Where’s mine?”

Chuckie handed him a Gatorade. “They just had you on a fuckin’ morphine drip, I’m not handin’ you a beer.”

Will opened it and took a sip. It wasn’t as good as a lager and a cigarette might have been, but he needed it. Even he could admit that he’d overdone it tonight. Chuckie leaned on the arm of the couch, but didn’t sit with Will again. Neither of them moved to turn the TV back on, they just stared ahead as if the grey reflections in the glass were as entertaining as anything else.

Chuckie put his hand on Will’s shoulder and watched as his body stiffened. It reminded him of seeing a deer in headlights.

“Do you wanna take the first shower?”

Will looked up at him, he wasn’t expecting this to be the kind of pillow talk they engaged in. “You take it, man. I can shower in the morning. I didn’t really do anything today."

Chuckie nods.

“You wanna head upstairs and toss me down some sheets?”

“Nah.”

“Alright man, no rush. S’just getting late.”

“Oh,” he looks right at Will realizing what he meant, “I don’t wanna do that ‘cause you should sleep upstairs. I can take the couch, kid, I didn’t…"

Chuckie trails off as his eyes stare at the long row of stitches on Will’s stomach. He crosses his arms over himself, he feels naked.

“I got clean clothes in my room. If you don’t wanna unpack.”

Will doesn’t say anything. He just takes his hoodie and his Gatorade and runs up to Chuckie’s room.

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