Chapter Text
If it hadn’t been for Luke, Nick wouldn’t have even thought about going to college. Then again, the thought wouldn’t have crossed Luke’s mind to go if Nick hadn’t decided to go too. How could he? Nick was like a brother to him, and missing out on seeing him every day was out of the question, even if it would only be a little ways away. (Community college wasn’t that long of a trip.) It really wasn’t all that odd to be so close to someone you’ve known since you were six, was it? Luke didn’t think so, at least. Hell, Pete was all for it! As long as Nick was going to college, it was fine by him. A couple of farm boys could use an education, couldn’t they?
What little he knew.
“Well, I think this is the last one.” Luke spoke as he set down the last of their heavy cardboard boxes, filled with god knew what. Most of the stuff was Nick’s, but he didn’t mind. They shared a lot of their taste anyway.
“Nope, this one is.” The man in question stepped over a few of the other boxes strewn about the kitchen floor, doing their best to compliment the black and white tile with their traditional cardboard brown. This small but precarious task seemed too much for him to handle, apparently, and he wobbled mid-step. “Oh shit-”
Luckily Luke was there to grab him before he fell flat on his face, but the box was a goner. Something that sounded an awful lot like glass shattered and clinked as it made contact with that same tile floor. The two looked down at the sad glass-filled box, a little dumb founded for the moment. As soon as he was brought back to reality, the shorter of the two took his hands back from Nick’s arms. He didn’t like the uncomfortable itch he got in the back of his chest that it gave him, but decided to disregard it. “Butterfingers. Again.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll get the broom."
The other was paying him no attention. He had knelt down to inspect the shattered remains of whatever had been inside, and was very upset by the discovery that it was his prized shot glass collection. “Fuuuck! God dammit, Luke these were important!” He was yelling more at himself than his friend, but his temper was still getting the better of him. His father had given him the first of those, hence the continuance of the collection. The fact that he hadn’t even tried hard liquor and had a shot glass collection didn’t matter, the sentiment did, and he was obviously kicking himself for being so clumsy. He had now resigned himself to grumbling and trying to see if pieces of the glass could still be fit back together. (They couldn’t.) “I always fuck things up… ow! God dammit.” He had cut himself in his carelessness. What a Nick move.
That kind of talk wasn’t something Luke liked to hear, and he knew it was important to nip it in the bud. “For God’s sake get out of that mess, Nick! You’ll hurt yourself. Now go get a towel or somethin’ for your finger while I sweep this up.” The subject in question did as he was told, but not without a ‘hmph’ of protest.
As the sound of running water trailed down their new apartment’s little hallway, Luke finished sweeping up the sad remains of a few shot glasses. From what Nick had said he thought that the entire box was ruined, but it didn’t seem all that bad. As he gathered up the salvageable glasses, one of them sparked his interest. The words on the front of it read, ‘To New Beginnings!’ in bright neon green, red and orange. It was hideous, but relevant. After all, they had just moved into their first place together. Not together together of course, but as best friends. After all, it had been their dream since middle school to have their own place to hang out.
“Hey, that’s one of my favorites. Glad it wasn’t demolished like the rest of ‘em.” Nick had finished rinsing off his cut hand and had what looked like a beach towel held tightly around it.
“What the hell is that, Nick?” It was hard to keep from smiling at the utter goofiness of it.
“A towel. Or something. You told me to get a towel, didn’t you?” The threat of his rising temper started to seep into his tone of voice, albeit unintentionally.
“Don’t worry about it, just come here already so I can patch your stupid finger up.” Again, he did as he was told. This happened a lot, Nick doing what Luke said. It just seemed to work out that way, in their experience. Well, usually.
As careful hands applied ointment and gauze, (it wasn’t that bad, but Luke figured he’d stay on the safe side,) Nick watched with a malcontented expression. “I’m not helpless, y’know.”
“No, I don’t know.” The chide was paired with a smirk, making the ‘patient’ roll his eyes, (but they both knew he was holding back a grin.) He inspected his bandaged hand, and seemed to be satisfied with the other’s handiwork.
“Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up- how ‘bout we crack open a couple of beers and watch one of our favorites?” That scheming smile of his was back, the one that had gotten them chased into a tree by the neighborhood dogs and gotten them sent to the principal’s office on St. Patrick’s Day in kindergarten. Then again, they always ended up turning into fond memories, didn’t they?
But for once, Nick wanted to be the fun one. “I have a better idea.”
No, he hadn’t bothered to tell Luke where he was going or what he was getting. He had just thanked him and told him to stay where he was before dashing out the front door. He had left his best friend alone in the apartment they had literally just moved into together.
Well, he wasn’t about to sit there and do nothing while he waited. With a sigh, he supposed that it was his job to unpack some of the stuff they had brought in, so he got to work on the essentials.
By the time Nick returned, he had already started on setting up the TV.
“Luke! I’m back, and I brought booze!” Indeed he had, a plastic bag weighing down each arm with large bottles inside. It was close, but he managed to kick the door shut behind him.
“What?”
“We’re putting that stupid collection of shot glasses to good use! Now teach me how to do shots already.” Usually it was Luke who was considered the party animal of the odd couple, even if he wasn’t as much of a ladies man as he had insisted in high school. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to jump at the chance to get as drunk as his friend seemed to want to. After all, Nick had already shown how clumsy he was sober. How bad could it get if he were drunk? And with all these boxes in precarious places….
“Alright, let’s do it. You ready to puke your guts out?” That was the reaction he had been looking for. Beaming, the taller but more naive of the two started lining up glasses. He must’ve seen that on TV or something. Luke’s plan was not to get hammered. Luke’s plan was to get buzzed and then let Nick have all the fun getting plastered. He’d make sure that his friend didn’t end up accidentally cracking his skull open or going on an angry stunt, and they’d probably just end up falling asleep watching Adult Swim or something.
It wasn’t a surprise that Nick was a lightweight. In fact, it was a little expected. Despite his (not so) tough exterior, old blue eyes was kind of sensitive in general. That was something that Luke had noticed and appreciated about him; no matter how the world tried, he didn’t let it turn him into a truly mean person. Sure he lost his temper sometimes, but he always knew when he was wrong, and tried to make it right. Hell, had he had a few too many too? Here he was, musing on old memories and some kind of dumb friend bond.
Anyway, Nick was very, very intoxicated. After downing three large shots of whiskey, he had insisted on continuing with at least one shot for each glass he owned. After a brief argument, he settled for just half of the collection. One after the other, he downed more and more alcohol over the hours, going from conversational to entertaining and finally, drowsy. After ages of watching (and laughing at) him having his fun, Nick had worn himself out. Luke saw this coming, and sat him down in front of the TV. That way, if he puked he could clean it up easily, and if he fell asleep he’d be comfortable on the couch. Easy as pie. Unfortunately, setting up the TV so quickly hadn’t been easy, so only the VHS player worked. Seinfeld would have to carry him off to sleep on jazzy entrance themes.
It was true that he sometimes felt a little more like a parent or older brother to Nick, but that really wasn’t how he saw their relationship. They’d always really been equals deep down, even if they were different in so many ways. Besides-
“Hey.. hey, Luke..” Next to him, Nick had started to stir, hair messy from his hat being discarded.
“Hm?” Barely a reply as he began to look over. It was just one of many times he would probably wake up and ask some kind of nonsense question-
It took a moment to process what was happening.
One moment, Seinfeld. Next moment, Nick’s blue eyes much closer to his face than he could ever remember them being. And his lips tasted like whiskey… WHAT?!
It was like a fight or flight moment, except… he froze. It was almost as if the moment he moved, everything would change. And he didn’t want it to change, apparently. Nick had his drunk lips pressed to Luke’s and he didn’t want that to change.
Oh God, this was bad.
But he was right. As soon as Luke broke away, the moment was gone. He held his breath, still feeling a little buzz from those beers- or was it just a mixed buzz of exhilaration and anxiety? He couldn’t quite tell. He just watched as Nick stayed close, and smiled.
“Y’needa shave..”
And zip, out like a light.
Luke could only stare. He started to realize a lot of things at once, and not all of them were too easy to accept. He realized that he didn’t mind Nick’s angry outbursts, or his stupid hobbies. He realized that he actually enjoyed taking care of him. He realized that right then and there, the soft glow from the TV washing the two of them in color, he wanted nothing more than to sit with the other sleeping on his shoulder as he was for the rest of eternity. He realized that the person he had known since kindergarten meant more to him than anything in the world in that moment. He had realized that he was in love with his best friend.
Luke was in love with Nick, and all the denial in the world couldn’t stop it- hadn’t stopped it.