Chapter Text
After we finally move from the warm embrace of our queen size bed (no more cramped cuddling in a twin bed like we always had to wherever we hung out at my house), we both go downstairs to eat breakfast, even though it’s almost noontime. I first go to the bread drawer to grab myself a bagel, Nick immediately getting on the same page goes to the fridge to pick out the cream cheese. My eating habits are much better nowadays, although I won’t deny that some days are a bit hard, but overall I feel much better and my relationship with food is far healthier. Eating isn't the struggle it used to be, but my safe foods still always bring me comfort. I may be more likely to reach for them, but it doesn’t fully stop me from trying to be at least a bit adventurous.
I’ve found out that I very much like cinnamon-raisin bagels, especially topped with bacon bits and some cheese. Nick, being the mind-reader he is, pipes up, “Do you want me to sizzle up some bacon, love?”
He truly is so sweet and thoughtful, but considering how starving I am, I don’t think I can wait, so I just thank him for offering and tell him that I’ll use the premade bacon bits from the pantry.
Nick blends himself up a smoothie, pours a glass of orange juice for me and him, and pops two Eggo waffles into the toaster, while I make my “Bagel-bacon extravaganza” as he calls it. Once we’re done cooking, we both sit down at the island and Nick uses his fork to raise his waffle in a toast manner. I grab my bagel and touch it to his breakfast, careful to not get any syrup on it, and let out an enthusiastic “Cheers.”
We eat hungrily alongside some light chatter. I go to take a quick swig of my O.J, only to realize it is not just some regular, old orange juice.
Surprise is written on my face. “Nick!?” I question, only to interrupt myself with a small fit of chuckles. “Really? A mimosa?”
He smiles that toothy, squinty eyed grin I know him for. “Just thought it would be a nice treat for my hubby.” Oh. My. God. Is he actually serious?
“Do not call me fucking ‘hubby’!” I laugh out at the preposterous nickname. Not even married a month and he’s already acting like a 60 year old lady.
“Hubby! Hubby, hubby, hubby!” Nick chants, poking my face. Holy shit, he’s a literal child. He’s very lucky that I love him.
“You’re insufferable.” I reply dryly, using every fiber in my being to not smile. I’m not letting him have the pleasure of knowing I like that stupid-ass nickname.
“But I’m yours, mon amour.” And there he goes with his French and his eyebrow wiggling again. He’s my husband, and I love him very dearly, but sometimes I wonder how that goofball charmed me into falling for him. Then, of course, I look into those warm, honey-brown eyes, and see him staring back at me with that loving gaze. I always immediately seem to remember exactly why.
Standing up, I grab hold of my dishes, as well as Nick’s (guess those years of waiting tables really paid off after all). “Well, Hubby, you have any idea on how we should spend the rest-” I stop myself, realizing it's almost one o’ clock. “Or should I say, what’s left of the day?”
I see Nick practically about to explode from excitement, and I can tell he’s been waiting for a chance to bring up whatever he’s about to bring up. “Funny you should ask,” he begins. “Because I think we should go back to reading those old journals we found.”
This is what he was bursting at the seams to talk about? I restrain myself from laughing out loud. It’s cute, to be honest, how giddy he’s getting over our “love story”, for lack of a better term. I also do have to admit that I’m pretty curious what Nick was thinking while I was making heart eyes at him practically every day during form.
Scurrying over to the sink, I dump our plates and glasses down, they could wait for later. “Why not?” I tell Nick, grabbing his hand and half dragging him up the stairs to our room. I flop onto our mattress belly-first, while Nick searches for our teenage diaries. It’s honestly comical. We move to the bedroom to read some old books together at the same speed a teenage couple would move to go have sex, or something of the sort. Or, more accurately, us as teens going to have sex after realizing that Nick's mum wasn’t going to be home for a while.
Nick leaps on up next to me, causing the bed to dent a little where he sits. We both get all comfy, and I can feel that he’s about to ask me something when we hear whining from the other side of the door. And, I kid you not, Nick flies up from where he was lying down to go open it so Daisy can come on in. Part of me feels bad for accidentally neglecting her all morning, but the other part of me is annoyed that she is delaying my classic Nick Nelson cuddles. However, once I see her little puppy-dog eyes, I can’t stay mad over such a little thing, not when she is just as cute as her dad. Nick is already the closest thing to a golden retriever in human form, so I suppose it checks out.
My dog-lover of a husband scoops up Daise and brings her up to cuddle with us on the bedding (something I have told him not to do multiple times since we have a WHITE comforter, but I always cave when they both give me those puppy-dog eyes. It’s manipulation, I say! Manipulation!). We both start to paw through a couple pages of each other's journals. Though while looking through the first couple I can see, I notice that there is a week time jump between Nick’s first and second entry. Curious, I ask him about it.
“Well,” Nick says, scratching the back of his neck in his little awkward gesture he always does when he’s embarrassed or flustered. “I didn’t really know how often you were supposed to write in these things.” He lets out a small chuckle. I have the feeling he’s leaving something, but then he continues on, “Plus I kinda, maybe forgot about it.” There it is.
I’m about to speak up when Nick starts talking once more, but this time his eyes lighting up. “But you, Charlie, wow! Did you write every single day? The things filled to the brim!” He truly looks amazed.
“Well, not every day, but I did write pretty often.” I run a hand through my hair, casually and keep answering Nick’s question. “I mean, you also know that that’s not my only journal, since I had a couple more while going through therapy.” He just nods along, intrigued, whilst petting Daisy. “And I think I had another one before that, but, um yeah. I guess I just really found it helpful to journal frequently,” I finish the last part pretty quickly, talking a little faster than I normally would. I honestly don’t really want to think about what events are written in the diary previous to the one Nick was holding right now.
“Well, then, since you just have so much to say, shall we start where we left off?” Nick says, nudging me playfully.
“We shall.”