Chapter Text
“I don’t say this often, but I’m really proud of you boys,” called Mrs Singh from the front of the minibus.
Charlie was only half listening. He was more concerned about Nick, who was once again flagging now that the post-match buzz had died down. He sat beside Charlie, slumped and listless.
“Miss, I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”
“I’m not, Christian.”
“But we literally got zero.”
“That’s the point. You might have got zero, but you didn’t let that stop you from giving it your all from start to finish. And keeping up that drive when the odds are stacked against you is just as admirable as winning…”
Nick’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the message. “My mum says she can give you a lift home.”
“Aw, thanks,” Charlie said, smiling at him. “Only if she’s sure.”
“Yeah, of course. It’s no bother.”
After texting a reply, Nick put his phone away and leant back, eyes drooping. Charlie had let him keep hold of his duffel coat on the minibus when it was obvious he was still on the feverish side, and he pulled it up to his chin like a blanket. “I wish I could teleport into bed,” he murmured.
“You can nap on me if you want,” Charlie whispered.
Nick opened his eyes and looked at Charlie’s shoulder longingly. Then he glanced around the passenger seats. The rugby lads were preoccupied with chucking stuff at each other, but everyone was still sitting uncomfortably close together.
“Better not,” Nick sighed, but he tipped towards Charlie so their shoulders were brushing. It was the closest they could get to a cuddle.
When at last the minibus pulled in through the Truham gates, Nick pressed his face to the window. Sarah was already parked and waiting outside. He fell back against the seat wordlessly, his relief palpable.
He wanted, so badly, to go home. Charlie couldn’t blame him.
The moment the minibus jerked to a halt, Charlie shot out of his seat and shamelessly blocked the aisle. “After you, sir,” he said to Nick with a flourish of his hand. His tone was light, but his gaze was pointed. He knew from the look on Nick’s face that he understood.
They had about two seconds before everyone got pissed off and tried to shove past him, and Nick took his chance. He was first out of the door, Charlie following close behind.
They made straight for the car. Charlie wanted to thank Sarah profusely for giving him a lift, but all her attention was on her son. She eyed Nick carefully, her brow creasing, and took the rugby kit from his hands. Charlie recognised that look on her face. It was the same expression Tori wore whenever she was worried about him, but didn’t want to say it out loud in case Charlie got defensive.
In Sarah’s case, she probably just didn’t want to mother Nick and embarrass him in front of all his mates.
“How did it go, you two?” she asked, making a commendable attempt at nonchalance.
“We lost,” Nick said. He got into the car and didn’t elaborate further.
After they were all belted up, Sarah poked her head between the front seats. “Are you okay, darling?”
Nick nodded without meeting her eyes. The furrow in her brow deepened. She pressed her lips together and started the car.
Once Truham was safely out of eyeshot, Nick perched his chin on Charlie’s shoulder with questioning puppy eyes. Charlie smiled and nodded, and Nick immediately flopped his head into place with a sigh of contentment.
Sarah glanced at their reflection in the rear view mirror. The worry lines in her brow softened. Smiling, she turned down the radio.
Pretty soon, Nick was snoring softly. It was kind of endearing, but also kind of jarring. Nick was usually a quiet sleeper when he wasn’t sick.
Sarah gave it a minute, and when Nick showed no sighs of waking, she quietly asked, “Did he manage to get through the match?”
Charlie thought about how to answer. He got kicked off the lineup at half time because he was running a fever and could barely breathe without coughing, probably wasn’t the most reassuring response. “He did the first half,” Charlie said, “but I took over in the second half so he could have a rest.”
Sarah looked equal parts relieved and surprised. “He sat out of his own accord?”
“Not exactly. I had to get Mrs Singh involved. She didn’t give him a choice.”
“And here I thought he’d suddenly become sensible,” Sarah muttered, bemused. “But thank you for doing that, Charlie. It was brave of you to play today. I’ve seen St John’s in action. Bloody aggressive, those lads. I hope no one got hurt?”
“No, we were all fine,” Charlie assured her.
“That’s good.”
The traffic lights ahead of them turned red. Sarah brought the car to a halt. She turned around and stole a glance at Nick, who was still fast asleep, lips parted slightly to breathe. “I was worried about him this morning,” she murmured. “He really wasn’t feeling very well. I wanted to keep him home, but he insisted on playing today.”
“I don’t know why,” Charlie said. “I know he loves rugby but, like, surely it’s not worth putting himself through all that?”
“Oh Charlie,” Sarah said gently. “He did it for you.”
“What? Did he tell you that?”
“No, but I don’t think he would’ve been so determined to play today for any other reason.”
“What do you mean? What reason?”
Sarah hesitated. “I think you should talk to Nick about it, Charlie. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
They fell into a heavy silence. Charlie’s mind was reeling. He thought back to half time, in the changing rooms. Trying to convince Nick to sit out.
I promised myself I wouldn’t.
What exactly had Nick promised himself? And what on earth did it have to do with Charlie?
No matter how many times Charlie turned it over in his mind, he kept coming back to the same answer. And he didn’t like it one bit.
Careful not to dislodge Nick from his shoulder, he turned to gaze at his sleeping expression, still flushed and pale and so very poorly.
Oh, Nick. Why did you ever think that was what I wanted? For you to force yourself onto the pitch and make yourself even sicker?
“Remind me the way to your house again, Charlie? Is it the next left?”
“Oh, um, yeah,” Charlie said. “But—is it okay if we go back to yours? I can walk home. I just want to make sure Nick’s okay before I go.”
“Of course, darling. As long as your parents are happy with it, you can stay for as long as you like.”
“Thanks, Sarah.”
When they arrived, Charlie ran his fingers through the mop of blond hair on his shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered.
He was greeted with a pair of bleary, confused brown eyes. “Are you going?” Nick murmured dejectedly.
“Not yet. Your mum’s letting me stay here for a bit.”
Nick lifted his head, taking in his surroundings, and realised they were parked in the driveway of his own house. “Really?”
“Yeah. Gotta make sure you don’t make any more dumb decisions about your health.”
He must have spoken a little too loudly, because Sarah snorted from the front seat.
What Charlie really meant was, I’m not going to leave you while you’re feeling like this.
Nick understood. Both the spoken and unspoken words. He practically nuzzled back into Charlie with a whispered, “Thank you.”
The passenger door opened and Sarah poked her head in through the gap. “Come on, Nicky. Stop passing Charlie all your germs. You can carry on sleeping inside if you want.”
Nick pulled away abashed, but still reluctant to move. With some nagging from his mum, tugging from Charlie, and coughing from him, he half crawled, half trundled to the front door.
There was something unassumingly homely about the Nelsons’ place. The house seemed to radiate warmth. Not just in the physical sense—though Charlie suspected Sarah had upped the central heating ahead of Nick’s return—but also in the soft yellow glow of the lighting, the empty mugs of tea sitting on the countertops, the worn rugs and chewed slippers.
The smell of fresh ginger and thyme wafted from the kitchen, where a crockpot was gently simmering on the stove. A bowl of oranges and a dwindling jar of honey adorned the table. At the foot of the stairs, two of Nick’s hoodies hung from the bannister.
Nick grabbed one of them and headed straight upstairs to his bedroom, coughing as he went. It was a testament to his exhaustion that he didn’t even stop to greet Nellie. She padded out of the kitchen, looking dejected. “Oh, he didn’t mean to ignore you,” Charlie cooed, giving her a scratch behind the ears.
“Didn’t waste any time, did he?” Sarah mused. “Charlie, could you be a dear and take this up to his room for me?”
She handed him a plastic shopping bag. Charlie didn’t have to look inside to know that most of the volume was tissue boxes. After resorting to loo roll all day, Nick was definitely in need of a healthy supply.
Charlie found Nick flopped on top of his bed, already changed into the hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms. His room was a sick day kind of messy—empty blister packs strewn across the nightstand, an extra blanket trailing off the bed, a dustbin overflowing with tissues. Charlie had been into Nick’s room plenty of times, but never unannounced like this. He knew Nick made an effort to tidy up ahead of when he visited. It felt strangely intimate, this lived-in, untidied version. Like something he wasn’t supposed to see.
Nick didn’t seem to mind. Either that, or he was too tired to care. Though, now that Charlie thought about it, he wasn’t sure if Nick had even registered anyone entering. He had his arm draped over his eyes, and was lying very still.
Charlie hovered awkwardly. He was starting to wonder if he should say something to announce his presence, when Nick spoke first.
“You can sit down if you want, Charlie.”
So he had noticed someone entering. And he’d known it was Charlie, without even having to look.
In slight relief, Charlie plopped onto the beanbag beside Nick’s bed. “Your mum bought you some stuff. She asked me to bring it up for you.”
At this, Nick uncovered his eyes. “What did she get?”
“Pharmacy stuff, I think.” Charlie looked inside the bag, pulling out the items one by one and placing them on the floor in front of him. “We’ve got paracetamol, a jar of Vicks, Strepsils, Lemsip—”
“What flavour?” Nick asked.
“Blackcurrant.”
Nick pressed his cheek into the pillow, looking pleased. “Sound.”
“There’s also a bottle of cough syrup, and, like, five boxes of tissues.”
“Five?”
“Yep. The extra large packs as well.”
Sarah came through the door just then, Nellie at her heels. “I’ve brought you boys some tea. Thought you might like some as well, Charlie, after being out in the cold.” While she deposited the two mugs on Nick’s nightstand, Nellie jumped onto the end of Nick’s bed. He stretched out his feet and petted her with his toes.
“Thanks, Sarah,” Charlie said, taking the blue and white mug. He assumed the other one—the mug with the ‘N’—was meant for Nick. It looked like some sort of lemony herbal concoction.
“Mum, don’t you think this is all a bit overboard?” Nick asked, gesturing at the pharmacy haul Charlie had deposited on his rug.
“Considering your blatant disregard for your own health, Nicky, I’m just doing damage control,” Sarah said mildly. “Sit up. I want you to take some Covonia.”
Nick pulled a face, but did as he was told. Sarah poured him a spoonful of the cough syrup, and he swallowed it in one, chasing it up with a slurp of his tea. Sarah filled up the spoon with a second dose.
“Again?” Nick moaned. “Mum, you only made me take one this morning.”
“That was before you let your cough get so dreadful,” Sarah said, pushing it into his hand. “Go on. The sooner you take it, the sooner it’ll be over.”
Nick swallowed the second dose and made a disgusted gagging noise. Sarah took the spoon from him, unaffected. “So dramatic,” she muttered, meeting Charlie’s eyes with a smile of bemusement. “I’ll leave you with Charlie, but give me a shout if you need me, okay? Or get Nellie to shout if you can’t.”
“Okay,” Nick said.
Her expression softened. She gave his cheek a gentle squeeze before heading downstairs again.
Nick had another sip of tea to wash it down, then flopped weakly onto his pillow. “Did my mum give you normal tea?” he asked.
“Yeah. Did you want some?” Charlie knew Nick wasn’t a fan of the herbal stuff. He was a committed English breakfast tea drinker. Anything else was ‘just weird’. (His words.)
“Is that okay? I can still taste the Covonia.”
“Course.” Charlie passed him the mug.
“Wait… I probably shouldn’t be sharing a mug with you.”
“It’s okay, you can have the whole thing,” Charlie said. “I don’t really want any.”
Nick smiled gratefully and took a long sip. He set down the mug and shuffled back into a horizontal position, staring at the ceiling.
“Charlie?” he said after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“D’you think you could pass me a tissue?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Charlie tore open one of the mega packs and tried to carefully peel off the top tissue, but he couldn’t find the edge.
“Charlie,” Nick said shakily, after a few moments. He had his palm over his nose, his breath hitching.
“Oh, fuck, sorry.”
He gave up and ripped out several layers, tossing them to Nick, and not a moment too soon. Nick caught the half-shredded tissues and clamped them over his face just in time to cover up a harsh double sneeze. It sounded like it scraped right up his throat. “God,” he murmured, dropping his head back onto the pillow, the tissues crumpled in his fist. “Sorry.” He let out a shuddering groan and curled into himself.
“Bless you. Are you okay?“
“Hm.”
He’s miserable, Charlie thought. Not that this was ever in doubt. But right now it couldn’t have been more plain. Nick had closed his eyes, arms wrapped around his chest like he wanted to hug himself to sleep.
Charlie wondered if this was his cue to go home. He’d got the reassurance he’d come for: Nick was in bed with some warm tea and medicine in his system, and his mum here to look after him. What he probably wanted now was rest. Charlie doubted that him loitering awkwardly at Nick’s bedside was helping, and Nick clearly wasn’t up for company. He was just too polite to ask Charlie to leave.
“Is there anything else you need?” Charlie asked. Before I go.
“Um…” Nick opened his eyes, bit down on his lip, looked at Charlie, looked away. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”
That was the least convincing answer he could possibly have given. “Are you sure?”
“You’ve done so much for me already.”
“Nick, what is it? Just name it and I’ll get it for you.”
Nick worried at his bottom lip some more, then threw his arm over his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”
“What? Tell me!”
Nick peeked out from beneath his forearm. In his tiniest voice, he said, “I really want a cuddle.”
Charlie almost laughed in relief. This sweet, ridiculous boy. “Oh my God, Nick. Why didn’t you just say so?” He jumped up from the beanbag with what was probably a little too much enthusiasm. “Budge up.”
Ever since Charlie had first tackled Nick to the ground during rugby practice, he’d wondered what it would be like to lie down and hold him—without the tackling part. And now, it seemed, was his chance to find out. He’d be damned if he let the opportunity pass him by.
“No.” Nick hid his face in his arms. “I’m ill.”
“Do you think I would’ve let you sleep on my shoulder if I cared? Come on, scoot over.”
Nick managed to look defiant and desperately tempted at the same time. “This isn’t a good idea, Charlie.”
“If you won’t move, I’ll climb over you.”
“Charlie!” Nick yelped—or as much as he could with a half-working voice—as Charlie crawled over his legs to get to the other side of the bed.
He laid down on top of Nick’s duvet, offering his arms. Nick took one look at them, and his resolve crumbled. He planted his cheek straight onto Charlie’s chest, muttering, “You’re unbelievable.”
Giggling, Charlie pulled the spare blanket over them both. Then he circled his arms around Nick and caressed his shoulder. Nothing too bold, just little sweeping motions with his thumb. Nick’s eyes fluttered closed after three seconds of it. “This good?”
“No, it’s horrible,” Nick murmured through smiling lips.
“Oh, really?” Charlie lifted his arms away.
“Noo, please don’t stop.” Nick blindly groped for Charlie’s arms and tugged them back into place.
Charlie chuckled lightly, trying hard to keep his chest—which was currently acting as Nick’s pillow—from juddering like an earthquake. He adjusted his hold from a loose embrace to a tight one, and Nick snuggled into it like a sleepy puppy, pressing the corner of his smile against Charlie’s jumper. The contentment wasn’t just in his face. It was in the loosening of his shoulder blades, the easing of his breaths, the happy little scrunch of his nose when Charlie worked his fingers through his hair.
Since their very first hug, he’d had his suspicions that Nick was a cuddle bug. There was something desperate about the way Nick had clung onto him, face smushed into the crook of his neck, holding on with every fibre of his being like Charlie might disappear if he let go. And that hadn’t been a one-off. Every hug since then had been equally earnest, and a minimum of ten seconds long. (Not that Charlie had been counting.)
All this to say, Nick did not do hugs by halves. He hugged passionately, and indulgently, and several times longer than the average person. Right now was their longest hug yet, if it could be counted as one. And, despite feeling all kinds of miserable, Nick looked like he was floating on cloud nine.
Conclusion? Most definitely a cuddle bug. Charlie filed that information safely in his brain with an inward, triumphant smile.
They stayed that way in comfortable silence for a while, until Nick needed to cough again. Panicked, he clamped a sleeve over his mouth and tried to twist out of Charlie’s grasp to avoid coughing in his direction.
“Hey, relax,” Charlie murmured. “Just lie down, it’s okay.” Too weak to struggle, Nick dropped his head back onto Charlie’s chest as his lungs succumbed to the fit. Charlie rubbed circles into his back until it was over, and a little longer after that too. He placed his other hand against Nick’s brow. “Do you still feel feverish?”
“Sort of. But not nearly as bad as when Coach Singh barcode scanned me.”
At the reminder of the match, Charlie’s thoughts grew troubled. Sarah’s words replayed in his head.
He did it for you.
Charlie had intended to wait until Nick was feeling better before bringing it up, but he supposed now was as good a time as any. “Nick, why did you play today? Even though you were ill?”
“Does it matter?” Nick murmured sleepily.
“It does,” Charlie said. “Your mum said it was because of me.”
Nick’s fingers clenched around the crumpled ball of tissues in his fist. “She told you that?”
“Yeah. But she didn’t explain why. I was hoping you would.”
“I just…” Nick paused, struggling to find the words. With a soft grunt, he lifted his head to face Charlie. “You know the first St John’s match? When you got knocked down?”
“Yeah?” Charlie wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.
“I wanted to help you. I wanted to run up and see if you were okay, but I froze. And I told myself, if I couldn’t help you when you got hurt, at least I could stop it from happening again.”
“So you forced yourself to play so I wouldn’t have to?”
“Yeah, I—I guess.”
“Nick.” Charlie manoeuvred them both so Nick could rest his head back on the pillow. They laid on their sides, facing each other. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine.”
“I know that now,” Nick said. “You were more than fine, you were amazing. It’s just…” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, there was a heaviness in his expression. “I really care about you, Charlie. I know I’m not great at showing it in front of other people but… I do, and I’m working on it.”
Charlie gave his shoulder a poke. “And here I was, thinking you’d dragged your arse on that pitch ‘cause you’re some sort of idiot rugby junkie.”
A weak laugh rattled in Nick’s chest. “Idiot, maybe. But junkie? Honestly Charlie, if it wasn’t for you, I probably would’ve ditched the team to go home and sleep.”
“Which is what you should’ve done even with me there,” Charlie chided.
“Alright. Calm down, you mother hen.”
A long pause. “So…” Charlie began, his voice teasing. “Does this mean you care about me more than rugby?”
He was one-hundred percent saying it to mess with Nick. Or flirt with him. Maybe both. What he didn’t expect was for Nick to reply, with complete sincerity, “Yeah. Obviously.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Nick, I was joking. You don’t have to say that—”
“I want to, though,” Nick insisted. “I mean, yeah, I do care about rugby. But if I had to choose between having rugby in my life, or you, I’d choose you.”
That couldn’t be true. Nick loved rugby. It was his favourite thing, his passion, even. Had been ever since he was a little kid. “Christ. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Charlie asked, reaching out to place the back of his fingers against Nick’s forehead.
Nick batted his hand away. “Charlie! I’m being serious.”
This was all too much. Charlie’s brain wasn’t prepared for this shit. Neither was his heart. Or any part of him, really. He felt like the oxygen had been knocked out of his every cell.
“Well… um,” he replied eloquently. “For what it’s worth, I care about you too. A lot.”
Nick chuckled, his eyes brimming with fondness. “I know. God, Charlie, you noticed I was ill before Mum did, and you know mums have a sixth sense for that sort of thing—”
He didn’t get any further before Charlie leant across and kissed him on the lips.
It was only a short one, because Nick couldn’t actually breathe all that well and Charlie didn’t want to suffocate him. But it was the first time they’d kissed in over a week, and even though Nick’s lips were hot and dry and tasted like cough syrup, Charlie had to use all his restraint not to grab the back of Nick’s neck and start making out there and then.
When he pulled away, Nick broke into a lopsided grin, his eyes flitting between Charlie’s lips and his eyes. “You fool.”
“Your fault for looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re doing it right now!”
Nick shook his head, smiling. “This is a horrible cold, just so you know.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he murmured, leaning in again.
The tips of their noses had barely brushed together when Nick suddenly drew back. “Wait. Hold on.” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his breaths still, palm hovering above his face.
“You need to sneeze?” Charlie asked, torn between concern and amusement.
Nick nodded. He blinked a few times, then pawed at the side of his nose in frustration. “Ugh. It’s not going away. Sorry, give me a sec.” He gingerly rolled out of bed, grabbed the tissue box Charlie had opened earlier, and disappeared into the upstairs bathroom.
A few seconds later, Charlie heard the muffled trumpeting noise of what he assumed was Nick trying to blow the tickle out of his sinuses. This continued for a good long minute, then Nick appeared in his bedroom doorway.
“You good?” Charlie asked, sitting up.
In lieu of a reply, Nick wrenched forward and cupped his face as an absolute whopper of a sneeze tore out of him. Charlie could practically feel the foundations of the house quaking. “Oh fucking hell,” Nick groaned, clutching the doorframe.
Charlie collapsed onto the bed, cackling, as Nick scurried back into the bathroom to clean himself up. “Stop laughing at my suffering, Charlie!” he moaned, but Charlie could hear him struggling not to laugh as well.
There was another quick nose blow, the sound of a bin lid closing and the tinkle of a running tap. At last, Nick emerged and hopped onto the bed, a little more pink-nosed than before, but his breaths sounded clear. “Okay, let’s go.”
“You’re not gonna Dad-sneeze into my mouth are you?” Charlie asked warily.
“Course not,” Nick murmured, closing the distance between them. Once they were near enough to share the same air, his breath hitched sharply.
Charlie’s eyes widened in panic. He retreated, bracing himself.
Nick broke into a grin and pointed at his face. “Got you.”
“You idiot!” Charlie cried.
While Nick burst into cough-laughter, Charlie grabbed a pillow and walloped his forehead. It was a very gentle wallop, because while Nick was a menace, he was unfortunately also a poorly one. “You’re lucky I’m not prepared to deck you right now.”
“Aren’t you?” Nick teased. “Come on, Charlie. Player of the day. Bring it on. I can take it.”
“Oh really?” Charlie hooked his arms around Nick’s neck and rolled over to pin him onto the bed. He grabbed the pillow and held it above him in threat. “One last chance to back down.”
Nick lifted his head and whispered, “Give me your worst.”
In one smooth motion, Charlie slipped the pillow behind Nick’s head. Then he leaned down and kissed him silly.
He would’ve stopped in a heartbeat if he’d sensed the slightest bit of discomfort on Nick’s end. But Nick responded with equal enthusiasm, and his airways seemed to have chosen this moment to finally behave. For the first time that day, it felt like the universe was on their side. (Or maybe it was the Covonia kicking in.)
Charlie was the one to pull away. He hadn’t wanted it to end, but Nick was starting to get sniffly again. “Okay,” he said. “That’s enough. You really need to rest.”
Nick sent the wide puppy eyes in his direction. “Do I?”
“Yes. You do.”
He pouted. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Who said I was leaving?”
At this, the pout instantly left Nick’s face, replace by a look of tentative hope.
Charlie studied him, bemused. “You want more cuddles, don’t you?”
Nick blinked innocently. “No? Maybe? …Yes.”
Charlie smiled. “Come here then, you big dork.”
With a natural ease, they settled back into their positions: Nick with his cheek smushed against Charlie’s chest, Charlie with one hand wrapped around Nick’s shoulders and the other grazing lightly through his hair.
“Is this relaxing?” he asked, after some time.
Nick responded with a snore.
Charlie snorted. “Ha ha very funny.”
But Nick continued snoring, soft, slow and rhythmic, and Charlie realised he actually had managed to fall asleep just like that.
I’ll take that as a yes, he thought, his heart melting a little.
He carried on playing with Nick’s hair, which wasn’t all that necessary considering Nick wasn’t conscious to feel it. But the truth was that Charlie found it relaxing as well. Nick’s hair was fine and soft and impeccably smooth, with none of the coils and frizz Charlie was used to when wrangling his own bedhead. It also smelled like the bar soap Nick kept in his PE kit. Sage, Charlie guessed, and something warm like cinnamon.
He closed his eyes. For once, despite his perennially awful circulation, he didn’t feel cold. Not even in his fingertips. Which was largely thanks to Nick’s immune system working overdrive. But Charlie felt warm on the inside too, and that wasn’t anything to do with Nick’s temperature.
He could fall asleep like this, he thought, with the warmth spreading from his chest and Nellie at their feet and the softness of Nick’s locks between his fingers.
And he did.
Charlie teetered at the brink of consciousness, clinging desperately to the clutches of sleep. He didn’t want to wake up. He’d been having the most comforting dream. The details were slipping away, as they always did when waking was imminent, but he knew it had been to do with Nick, and that cuddling had been involved, and he very much wanted to prolong the bliss for as long as possible.
He screwed his eyes tight and hugged Kitty closer to his chest.
Wait. Not Kitty.
Charlie’s eyes snapped open. He was in Nick’s room. Lying on Nick’s bed. And, curled up in the circle of his arms, was Nick.
So he hadn’t been dreaming after all. Lightly, so as not to wake him, he curled the tips of his fingers into the sleeve of Nick’s hoodie. Definitely real. A giddy, fizzy feeling bubbled up in his chest. He wanted to laugh hysterically, but swallowed it down and settled for wiggling the tips of his toes instead.
Charlie wondered how long he’d been asleep for. It couldn’t have been for very long—neither of them had shifted at all. Nick’s head had remained glued to Charlie’s chest, and Charlie’s arms had stayed locked around him like a koala. He uncurled one of them, reached out to grab his phone from where he’d left it on Nick’s nightstand, and switched it on.
Before he could check the time, a string of notifications diverted his attention.
Mum
Charlie where are you?
Mum
Tori said you’ve got a rugby match. Let me know when you’ll be home.
Mum
Charlie what’s going on? Your match should be finished by now.
Missed call.
Missed call.
Charlie finally noticed the time. A whole two hours had passed. Christ, he’d slept for that long?
With one hand, so as not to jostle Nick, he typed a reply.
Charlie
match is over
i’m at nick’s
Not thirty seconds later, his phone started vibrating. He jolted in surprise, the phone slipping from his hand and bouncing off Nick’s shoulder. “Shit,” he whispered. He grabbed it and declined the call. The buzzing stopped. But it was no use—Nick was already stirring.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as Nick rubbed his eyes with a groan. Charlie reached over to massage his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” Nick mumbled. He blinked his eyes into focus and tilted his head up to gaze sleepily at Charlie. The right corner of his mouth dipped down with a soft smile.
God, he looked so kissable like that.
“How are you feeling?” Charlie asked.
“Way better,” Nick said. And, perhaps for the first time that day, Charlie actually believed him. He looked better. Sounded it, too.
Charlie had been worried, after the match, that Nick had taken a turn for the worse. Turned out, all he’d needed was to go home and recharge. With a nap. And, like, two hours of cuddling.
Charlie’s phone buzzed again.
Mum
We never agreed you could stay at Nick’s.
Come home now please.
“Who’s that?” Nick asked.
“Oh, it’s just my mum.”
Charlie
can’t i stay for a bit longer?
he’s not feeling well
Mum
No Charlie, it’s getting late.
If you want to spend time with Nick you can do it at the weekend.
Charlie lowered his phone with a heavy sigh. “I have to go.”
“Noo,” Nick whined, nuzzling into Charlie’s chest. “I take that back. I feel terrible.”
“Niiick!” Charlie giggled. “I wish I could stay but my mum’s passive-aggressively beckoning me.”
“Okay,” Nick whispered. He rolled off Charlie’s chest to let him up.
“She said I can come back at the weekend, though.”
Nick stared at him.
“Like, only if you want me to,” Charlie added quickly, as he slipped off the bed. “I don’t mean to just invite myself to your house. It’s okay if you don’t feel up to it, I—”
“Charlie.” Nick smiled. “I’ll always be up for it.”
“Okay,” Charlie said, bouncing awkwardly on his toes. His insides felt like they were glowing. Like one of those gay-looking deep sea jellyfish.
“Come on. I’ll see you out.”
“No, you should be staying in bed.”
“I have a cold, you muppet. I’m not an invalid.” He tossed off the blanket and recoiled. “Oh shit, it’s freezing.”
“What did I say?” Charlie laughed. He grabbed the corner of the blanket and tucked Nick back in. But as soon as he got up to leave, Nick pulled the blanket over his shoulders and ploughed after him with determination.
Charlie rolled his eyes, then offered his hand. They walked down the stairs together, not letting go until they reached the bottom.
As Charlie crouched down to yank on his Converse, Nick leant his blanket-covered shoulder against the wall, smiling at him. “Thanks for taking care of me,” he said softly.
Charlie rose. “Thanks for taking care of me,” he replied. “Even though it was very silly of you.”
Chuckling, Nick took both Charlie’s hands and pulled them into his blanket shroud for a hug. “Worked out well for me in the end, though.”
Charlie could have stayed like that forever, cocooned in Nick’s warmth, both of them swathed in the blanket. He hadn’t thought that Nicks hugs could possibly be improved upon, but this one made a compelling argument.
Note to self: being under the weather makes him extra snuggly.
Not that he wanted Nick to get sick more often, but, well. Silver linings and all.
For once, Nick was the one to let go first. “Go on. Better not keep your passive-aggressive mum waiting.”
Charlie lingered reluctantly for a second, cupping Nick’s cheeks gently in his hands. Then he did a second brave thing that day. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed Nick’s forehead, right over the densest cluster of freckles. His skin was very warm, and very soft.
Nick’s smile grew even wider.
“Bye,” Charlie said.
“Bye.”
On Monday, Nick was back at his form room desk, no loo roll or thermos or school jumper in sight. He greeted Charlie with a bright-eyed smile. “Hi.”
“H—” Charlie ducked his head into the crook of his blazer and sneezed.
He glanced up to find Nick watching him, looking downright heartbroken. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
In the moment it took for those two words to register, Nick’s face went from utter devastation to a cheeky, knowing grin. A we-spent-all-weekend-cuddling-and-it-was-great-wasn’t-it? kind of grin. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, as Charlie sat down.
“What?”
He leant over, so close that his lips were almost brushing Charlie’s ear.
“You sneeze like a kitten,” he whispered.
“Fuck off.”
