Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He might’ve said no. When he thought about it later, he thought about how easy it would have been for him to pass, to make up some excuse about prior engagements, or family events, and left it to some other poor teacher.

If it hadn’t been for the pay bonus, and the fact that his roommate was driving him absolutely insane. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was nearly dying, coming out of his skin, stuck in the same rut he’d been in for years, itching to get out of his daily life and into something else. If it hadn’t been for that. He might’ve said no.

He might’ve, but he didn’t.

Which is how he found himself on a bus heading for Paris, with sixty-odd loud, horny teenagers behind him, his only backup a tall, skinny teacher from Higgs School whom Youssef barely knew, but who was one of those people who are so infuriatingly good looking that it almost hurts to look at them.

He was trying to ignore that. Trying instead to focus on the fact that it was so annoying that Nathan, Mr. Ajayi, was so chipper, so willing to go with the flow, that he, Youssef, was forced to be the bad cop. A trend that he was sure would continue throughout the trip.

And for the most part, it did. Nathan would bring his positive attitude to walking tours, a trip to the Louvre, and even one incident where a student passed out in the heat, and Youssef would grump at the kids until they understood that stepping out of line in a foreign country would not be tolerated.

That, at least, was what he expected. And Paris as well, grimy and hot and horrible to get around, met every single one of Youssef’s low, low expectations.

The one thing that didn’t, though. That was Nathan. Nathan who had come out to Youssef, matter-of-fact, the night after the first trip meeting.

“I’m gay,” he’d said, once the students and parents had trickled out of the room, leaving only Youssef and this tall, handsome man who was looking at him earnestly through his glasses, freckles peppered over his cheeks, eyes and skin a warm brown that made Youssef feel a slight blush creeping onto his face.

He imagined then, briefly, a world where he could say what he wanted in response.

“Me too,” he would say, and the words would come smoothly off his tongue. There’d be no drag of guilt as old as time itself, no echo of his father’s disappointed voice in the saying of it, no desire to hide himself. There’d be confidence, there’d be love for it, the concept of loving outside of limitations, there’d be an ownership of that side of himself.

What he actually said was something more along the lines of “Huh?”

“I’m gay,” Nathan had said again, gathering permission slips into a black folder and not meeting Youssef’s eye. “I just wanted you to know that going in. We’re sharing a room and all that. I just wanted that to be in the open.”

“Oh, uh,” Youssef said. “That’s not a– I mean. Um. Thank you for telling me. It’s not an issue.”

Nathan looked up at him then, head jerking up just a little bit too fast, and Youssef was sure he caught the edges of a blush on Nathan’s cheeks before he turned away.

“Should be an interesting trip,” he’d said, then.

He might’ve said no.

~   

Nathan continued to surprise Youssef in little ways over the course of the trip. He was upbeat and kind to the students, sure. But when he and Youssef were sitting at the hotel bar after the kids were long asleep and room checks had been performed, he had a dark sense of humor and once made a vodka soda shoot out of Youssef’s nose, much to his utter mortification. He loved to needle Youssef, to poke cracks in his carefully put-together armor.

"You don’t smile a lot, you know that?” he said, second night of the trip, just after Youssef had crawled into bed and switched the lamp off.

“Yes,” Youssef had said, deadpan. “I am aware.”    

Nathan had snorted. “Why don’t you?”

“I have what the kids are calling a ‘Resting Bitch Face.’ Born with it, you know.”

Nathan really laughed at that, and then had fallen silent. Youssef thought he had fallen asleep. Nathan seemed to fall right into sleep that way, almost mid-sentence. Youssef would toss and turn and be up half the night, all while Nathan snored quietly, five feet away.

“Your face is different when you smile,” he’d said, though. Not asleep after all. His voice had that rich, raspy quality of a person just on the verge of dreaming.

Youssef swallowed. “Different how?” he’d whispered.

“Lighter, you know? Someone I feel like I could know. Frowning you is definitely a closed door. Smiling you, though? He could be my friend.”

And Youssef hadn’t quite known what to say to that. So he’d just feigned sleep. Pretended the conversation never happened. Pretended he wasn’t completely shaken by the words.

~

It was little things like that. Things that Nathan kept doing. Things that Youssef kept tripping over as the trip progressed. That time Nathan bought Youssef a croissant, pain au chocolat (because Nathan had noticed Youssef’s preference for them?), without being asked, just handed it to him in its crinkly paper bag with a half smile that made Youssef’s heart race. The time they’d gotten drunk in their room and Nathan had imitated the other tourists they’d seen that day with such accuracy that Youssef had laughed until he couldn’t breathe. The time that one of the students had fainted, and Nathan had dealt with it with such care that Youssef’s breath caught a little bit. Walking along behind their kids, Nathan relaxed and Youssef constantly on edge, he’d say things that were surprising and funny and cutting, and Youssef felt like he was constantly rearranging the way that he thought of this man.

“I’m not straight either,” Youssef finally said, the same night as the tourist impressions. “I am also gay, in fact.”

Too much French wine slurred his words, but he didn’t think it was the alcohol that made it look like Nathan’s eyes widened, surprised and a bit pleased.

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said. Youssef shrugged.    

“Not very many people know,” he said, and left it at that. There was more he could’ve said. More he thought about as the trip went on. When they caught two boys by the vending machine, and Nathan looked after them with a knowing expression on his face, saying something about sneaking away with a boy you like, Youssef’s heart twisted.

“Come on, you never snuck off with a boy on a school trip when you were their age?”

Youssef answered without thinking.

“Well, when you don’t come to terms with your sexuality until your mid-twenties, you tend to miss out on all those beautiful gay teenage experiences.”

And he almost froze. Why had he said that? It’s not something he generally liked to think about. The way that life had passed him by for so long, his heart straining one way, his head sensibly forcing it back into place. The fear of what would happen if he actually gave into the thoughts that ran across his mind from time to time, terrifying if left unchecked. What would occur if he let himself look at boys the way he sometimes caught himself wanting to? What would it mean if he was looking at them not because he wanted to mirror their behavior, fit in where he could, act as normal as possible, but because he wanted to be with them? What would that mean for him, as boy raised in a Muslim world, a boy who put his family above anything else, even when his faith in that world started to wane, a boy who had expectations placed upon him, expectations that he wasn’t sure he could meet, even without his tendency to dream about boys the way he was meant to dream about girls.

And then, beyond that, when he had finally let himself think about the fact the he clearly was not falling on the “right” side of the binary, it seemed to be too late. Everyone that he knew who was queer and his age had already been through that time of figuring it out. They were all past the moments of kissing someone and having that thrill of it being real for the first time. They were all moving on from the awkward fumbling of figuring out how to not-be-straight. And Youssef had missed the bus. He wasn’t even sure how to begin to dive into his newly-accepted dating pool. He’d only kissed one man in his entire life, and though it had been enough to tell him what he needed to know, one kiss did not a wealth of experience make.

There was already something inherently uncomfortable about accepting a new facet of your identity, even one that you suspected was there all along. But accepting this part of yourself, while simultaneously realizing that you were almost too late in doing so, that was something else altogether. It was a double loss: the loss of the easy life you would have had if you could have ignored that side of yourself, and the loss of that small window of time that you had to accept that side of yourself alongside everyone else.

“Bit late for me to have any youthful moments of discovery,” he said quickly, just eager to leave the subject behind.

But Nathan was quiet for a moment, hunched over the vending machine.

“I don’t think there’s an age limit on that, to be honest,” he said, and there was a new layer of warmth in his voice. Almost like a wink.

Youssef hid his pleasure at the words with a joke.

“Ha. You flirting with me?”

Nathan stood, suddenly too close for comfort, the huff of his breath against Youssef’s nose as he looked up into Nathan’s eyes–he is so stupidly tall, so stupidly handsome–and smirked.

“Maybe.”

Then he turned abruptly, and it’s all Youssef can do not to fall forward in his wake. He blinked rapidly, trying to remember where he is, what he was meant to be doing. The only thing he could see was the warm darkness of Nathan’s eyes.

Nathan, who had done nothing but tease and needle Youssef. Who has been funny and warm and kind, who had been the only reason Youssef has kept his sanity on this trip.

he only thing he could think in that moment was how badly he wanted to push himself up, just a bit, onto his toes, make himself more even with Nathan’s face, all soft curves meeting with sharp angles. How badly he wanted to take his face in his own hands and put his mouth against Nathan’s, to feel how he would react if Youssef had the nerve to do it. To maybe even feel Nathan kiss him back,

Nathan turned back, just for a moment.

“We’d better get back to our room, hm? Come on.”

All Youssef could do was follow, dumb, head swirling with images, fantasies of what it would feel like to kiss this man, to hold him and feel nothing except the pleasure of it. No guilt or awkwardness, no feeling unsure.

They got back to their room and Nathan excused himself to take a shower, leaving Youssef sitting on his bed, mindlessly flipping through channels of French television and trying very hard not to think about Nathan.

He was dozing off when Nathan came back into the room, almost asleep but still very aware of the movements of the other person, opening drawers and pulling fabric over his head.

Youssef was almost well and truly asleep when there was a loud knock at the door, followed by the very distinct sound of Tara Jones yelling his name.

He jerked awake, then ran a very tired hand over his face and went to the door, already dreading what would be on the other side of it, even before he say Darcy Olsson, clearly drunk, slumped in Tara’s arms.

What unfolded over the next fifteen minutes was a scene out of Youssef’s nightmares, and very nearly brought him to the edge of a mental breakdown in which he questioned every single choice he’d made over the course of his life that had led him to this point: watching a sixteen year old girl vomit on Nathan’s bed as several of her classmates looked on in horror.

Once they’d gotten the clearly traumatized Darcy back to her room, with the help of the mercifully sober Tara, once they’d cleared the sheets off of Nathan’s bed and sent them straight away with a horrified-looking housekeeper, once they’d seen that all the rest of their students were alright, once they’d been quietly assured by Charlie Spring that no one else had had very much to drink at all, once they got back to their now quiet room, once they’d sat on the edge of Youssef’s bed, side by side, glasses of wine in hand and legs touching just slightly, Youssef let out a breath.

“Disaster,” he said.    

“Definitely could have been worse though,” Nathan said, sipping his wine. Youssef watched his Adam’s apple bob out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose we’ll have to call down and ask them to send up a spare set of sheets.”

Youssef sipped his wine, and his mouth acted without his brain’s permission.

“Or you could share my bed,” he said. Then immediately clamped his lips shut and thought briefly about taking a vow of silence for the rest of his living days.

Nathan said nothing.

“No- sorry. Stupid idea,” Youssef said, standing and moving towards the door. “I’ll go down and get you some sheets.”

But before he could go, before he was quite out of reach, he felt a warm hand clasp his own forearm gently, tugging him back.

Nathan stood, faced Youssef, eyes darting all over his face as if to say “are you here? in the way I think that you are?”

And Youssef forced himself to look back, with all his armor stripped away. As if to say, “I am. I am. I am.”

“I don’t think that’s a stupid idea,” said Nathan. Youssef laughed, weak. Nathan tugged him closer, hand moving to the side of Youssef’s face, stroking the skin there so gently that Youssef thought for a moment that he really hadn’t ever been touched before. Not like this.

They moved at the same time, so slow and too fast all at the same time. Youssef’s eyes were closed even before he realized what was happening, and his body moved on instinct.

Their mouths brushed once, soft. Youssef’s spine straightened at the contact, and he let out a small gasp despite himself. He felt Nathan’s mouth, still lingering on his own, curve into a smirking kind of smile, and he felt his knees go a bit weak, leaning into Nathan for balance, not daring to break the kiss.

He deepened it, hands moving to Nathan’s back, up underneath the jumper he was wearing, and he was rewarded by Nathan’s shivers, which made him groan a little even as he shook.

They moved backwards, stumbling onto the bed that had been Youssef’s and was now theirs, if only for one night. Youssef scrambling to put his knees on either side of Nathan’s hips, kissing him deeply, his tongue slipping into Nathan’s warm mouth and Nathan’s hands roving over Youssef’s body, both strong and careful.

The kissing made him forget about what had happened with Darcy, made him forget that children were even a thing that existed out in the world, because the world that existed outside of that hotel room outside of that moment, didn’t matter.

What mattered were the little pants that Nathan made as Youssef moved to kiss his neck, his throat, the base of his ear right underneath the lobe, lingering there in a way that was dangerous. What mattered was the way Nathan grumbled and flipped them over and tugged off his jumper, so all Youssef could see was clean lines, soft skin, the blinding white of a smile. What mattered was tugging off his own shirt, wanting to be skin to skin even as he was fairly sure nothing more than this kissing would happen that night. What mattered was the way Nathan kissed him down his torso, hungrily, as if it was the thing he liked best, and then came back up to Youssef’s mouth with a little laugh of delight. What mattered was Youssef kissing him back, forgetting that he didn’t know what it was that he was doing, forgetting everything except the fact that this felt damn good, felt like something he deserved, something that he could have, without worrying about the fact that he could have been having it before, if he wasn’t such a coward.

 He didn’t feel like a coward right then. He felt like someone brave, someone who could kiss a man this kind, this gentle, this genuinely lovely and belong there. He allowed himself to be swept away in the pleasure of it, the slide of their chests together and the way their lips seemed to fit just in the nicest way. They’d kiss for awhile, and then slow down, murmuring quietly to one another about nothing at all, and then Youssef would say something, something dumb or biting, because his guard was down, and there Nathan would be, propped back on his elbow and kissing Youssef again, tongue sliding into his mouth and hand dipping down to hook a finger around the waistband of his pajama pants, tugging him in and growling into the kiss in a way that turned everything molten.

It went on for a long time. Youssef wasn’t sure how long, just that his eyes were so heavy but he never wanted to close them because that would be the end of it and he never ever wanted to stop kissing this man. It was only when he yawned in the middle of a kiss that Nathan pulled away, laughing, eyes bright and mouth swollen (Youssef had done that) and said they should get some rest.

Youssef nodded, half asleep already, smiling despite himself when Nathan scooped him into his arms and pulled him close.

“Youssef?” Nathan said. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Youssef was already asleep and this Nathan was a dream. “You’re really quite beautiful, you know.”

But Youssef was already asleep.

Wasn't he?

Chapter Text

The bus ride back, through the rolling French countryside and back home, has Youssef’s stomach in knots. He’s beside Nathan, their arms brushing as they each read or scroll through their phones, but neither one of them are talking. And Youssef can’t tell if that’s because things are getting awkward between them or because they’ve got a bus filled with teenagers at their backs. 

In any case, he’s jittery and jumpy as they stand in the parking lot, waiting for all the students to be picked up as the sun sets. When the last kid gets picked up and it’s just Youssef and Nathan in the warm night, he turns to Nathan, unable to hold his tongue. 

"Nathan," he says, breathless, and then Nathan is grinning at him, his face open. "I wanted to tell you– that. Oh. I mean. Last night was really amazing. And I would love-I mean, I wouldn't mind, you know–"

Nathan steps in, ending Youssef’s misery. 

"I'd like to do it again too," he says, eyes crinkling in delight. 

"Maybe on a night when we're not responsible for ten thousand sixteen-year-olds?" Youssef says, allowing himself a small grin.

"That would be ideal, yes."

By this point, they’ve reached Youssef’s car, Youssef dropping his bag in the backseat as Nathan leans on the driver’s side door. 

"So," Nathan says, grinning and cheeky. 

"So" says Youssef, feeling a spark of bravery.

"Would you want to go to do dinner with me?"

"Mmmm..." Youssef says. "French food?"

Nathan laughs, the sound surprised and echoing in the empty lot. 

“Not what I was thinking. Anything but, really,” he said, chuckling. 

“Then yes. Absolutely."

And then Nathan reaches for him, looking around the lot and seeing that it is indeed truly empty. He pulls Youssef into a hug. Youssef sighs, feeling something like warmth spreading through his chest. 

Then Youssef pushes away a bit, still encircled by Nathan's arms. Surprising himself, he goes onto his tiptoes and kisses Nathan soundly, hands flat on Nathan's chest, wanting, so suddenly, to ball Nathan's shirt in his fists and pull him as close as he can possibly get

But he doesn't, just kisses him, chaste, and then pushes Nathan away.

“Name the day," he says. "I will try to be there."

"You'll try?"

"I'll be there."

Nathan smiles, the sun on his face. 

They say their quiet goodbyes, and Youssef is tentative, and hopeful. He's not sure if Nathan will actually follow up, and he doesn't want to let himself get too involved before anything happens, but he really really hopes that Nathan will call or text or whatever

He gets a Chinese takeaway on his way home, goes back to his apartment, avoids his terrible roommate, and gets into bed, happy to see his cat, Archie, for the first time in days but aware that he's become weirdly used to Nathan being in the room with him while he's getting ready for bed. 

And there's a little ache in his throat when he realizes that. Which makes him think back to how peaceful he felt, waking up next to Nathan that morning. 

They’d fallen asleep after the kiss, Youssef’s back pressed to Nathan’ chest. After a while, Youssef (terrible sleeper as he is) had woken up in a bit of a panic, not knowing where he was or what he was doing.

The panic is only broken by Nathan’s soft voice and strong arms, pulling him back in and murmuring soothing words to him. It made Youssef realize that it was real, snuggling back down and letting Nathan curl up close. 

It was almost funny, laying there, because Nathan is much taller than Youssef. But he wrapped himself around him while also laying on Youssef's chest, and the steady weight of him against Youssef put him right back to sleep.

And that's how they’d woken up, kind of weirdly entwined.

Youssef had woken up first and just laid there for a while. He’d held Nathan close to him, his hands running over Nathan’s arm, which had been flung across his stomach. There were so many words on his tongue. He’d wanted to tell Nathan that he really enjoyed kissing him, really liked being around him, and would like to continue doing both, but without pressuring Nathan if he didn’t want the same. 

But when Nathan had woken up, he just looked so soft and quiet that Youssef hadn’t said anything. 

All he could do was lean down and kiss him again, and the way Nathan opened up to that kiss was so innocent, so instantaneous, that Youssef felt something move inside of him. He thought that he could wake up and see Nathan’s bleary eyes, and the way the sleepy smile dragged across his face, every day. 

And as he’s sitting in his bed, back in England but mind still in that bed in Paris, his phone buzzes, shaking the memory from him. 

It's a text. "Weird not sharing a room with you,” Nathan has sent. 

Immediately, Youssef has to throw the covers off his legs, that's how warm he immediately gets. He stares at his phone for a second, weighing the options

He could be coy, or tease Nathan, or make a sarcastic comment.

Or, he could be genuine.

"I was just thinking the same thing, actually."

Genuine was all he could come up with in the end.

"Guess that means I need to see you again as soon as possible?"

"Hmm... I'll have to check my schedule. I might be totally booked up."

He was proud that he did manage to salvage a little bit of teasing after all. Just to save his reputation as a grump.

Then his phone was ringing.

He jumped, dropped it, then dug around frantically in his duvet until his hand closed around it.

"Hello?" he says, voice cracking a little. He closes his eyes in dismay, sinking into the pillows.

"That's not funny!" Nathan says in response, and Youssef can hear the smile in his voice. It's irrepressible, that smile.

"I thought it was kind of funny," Youssef says, a small smile curling the edge of his mouth, despite himself.

"You think I don't know you're a giant nerd whose only plans this weekend are to read books and speak to as few people as possible?"

Youssef makes a disgruntled sound. Nevermind that those were his only plans.

"Well!" he says. "That's a full schedule then! I have to decide if you can fit into my absolute max quota of people that I have to speak to in one weekend."

"Which is how many?" Nathan says, voice gentle, clearly teasing.

"Five."

"How about," Nathan says, voice going a bit molten. Youssef has no power against it, and ducks his head into the pillow, knowing that he's going to agree to whatever it is that Nathan is about to say. "You just go out with me then? You wouldn't even have to reach the max quota. Just talk to only me."

Youssef just lets out a long breath. His heart is beating so fast, he thinks he might actually pass out.

"So?" Nathan says after a minute. "What do you say? Tomorrow night?"

"Yes," Youssef says, voice quiet. A beat passes. "I'll pick you up."

"Oh?" Nathan says, laughing in surprise. "Will you?"

"Based on everything that I know about you, I can tell you're a terrible driver."

Nathan really laughs, then, and Youssef feels a little thrill from regaining the upper hand. There have been few things in his life that give him as much of a buzz as bantering with this man.

"You.... are not wrong. I ran into a bench the other day."

Youssef rolls his eyes.

"So, I'll pick you up. Around 6:30?"

“You can pick me up, but I'm choosing the place."

"Deal."

"Deal."

They're quiet for a moment, Youssef still pressing himself into his pillow, trying to still his heart and his breathing and the thoughts racing through his head.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" Nathan says finally, his voice low.

"You will."

"Goodnight, Youssef."

Youssef shivers at the sound of his name in that voice, so gentle on the familiar syllables.

"Goodnight."

When they hang up, Youssef spends longer than he should, staring at his phone, thrilling a little when a text comes through with Nathan's address, followed by a "Can't wait! x."

He barely sleeps.

Really, he barely sleeps most of the time, but this is different. This is like when you were younger and you knew something exciting was going to happen the next day. Celebrating your birthday at school, or going on an exciting trip. That's the feeling: heady and fizzy and more than a little nervous. He tosses and turns most of the night with the memory of Nathan's body against his buzzing through his memory.

The next day is long.

He wakes up early, feeds Archie, and makes himself coffee. He looks over a few lesson plans that he had been working on before the trip, but the words and symbols swirl and lose their meaning, so eventually he gives up and slumps into the living room, where he spends the majority of the afternoon pretending to read and half heartedly cleaning things.

It's around 5 pm when he abandons all pretense of killing time and goes into his room to get ready.

He's not really sure what to expect, if he's being honest.

He keeps telling himself it's just a date. a first date. But something about it feels like more than that. Maybe it's because they've already kissed, already ran hands over the planes of each other's bodies, already know what it feels like to sleep in each other's arms.

So, in that way, he's not really sure what to expect.

He showers, taking extra care with everything, hands trembling a little bit every time his brain supplies a snippet of his night with Nathan.

He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, looks at himself in the mirror and wishes there was just something a little More to him. Other than brown skin, brown hair, brown eyes, slight frown permanently on his lips. He tries to smile, but it just makes him look crazy, so he looks away. Goes back into his room. Changes into a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. Considers. Throws on a sport jacket. Reconsiders. In the end, he keeps it on, ties on his coolest shoes, the white sneakers with sneaky rainbow soles that his sister got him for his birthday, that he desperately loves but never wears in public.

Before he can second guess anything, he grabs his keys and his wallet and leaves, shaking with nerves.

He pulls up to Nathan's building a few minutes later, gets out, and walks up to the door. He hits the button next to "Ajayi" on the list of tenants, and shifts from foot to foot, waiting.

"Hi! I'm coming right down!" Nathan's voice crackles over the speaker, sounding out of breath, like he's already smiling.

A moment later, Nathan comes out of the door, nearly running into Youssef standing on the stoop. He reaches out, laughing, steadying them both, warm hands on Youssef's shoulders, and his face is so bright and delighted that Youssef feels himself relax.

"God! Sorry!" Nathan says. "Don't wanna kill you before we even go out, do I?"

"No," Youssef says, deadpan. "Surely we should save the murder for afterwards.”

"Absolutely right," Nathan says, stepping back, hands dropping from Youssef's shoulders.

They stare at each other for a minute, until they both break into laughter. The entire thing--Nathan's bouncing energy, the fact that Youssef had almost toppled into the street, the way Nathan's glasses were sitting askew on his face--make the nerves and the walls and the awkwardness dissolve.

"Shall we?" Nathan says.

Youssef nods and turns to his car, opening the door for Nathan and blushing deeply when Nathan gently touches his cheek before getting in.

Nathan directs them to dinner, which is at an absolute hole in the wall Indian place that Nathan knows about and apparently goes to all the time, because the owner comes out and greets them both and gives them free appetizers and drinks on the house, and they sit at a table outside until a trellis of white flowers and Nathan can't stop smiling. Youssef slowly comes out of his shell as the meal goes on, and they talk about how they got into teaching and their families and the things that they wanted to be when they grew up.

By the end, they're both kind of buzzed and full of good food, and Youssef is all of a sudden talking about his sexuality and how he came to terms with it and how it took a long time for it to be comfortable, and Nathan is talking about how he has kind of a difficult relationship with his father, but that his mom and sister are his best friends. By the time they leave the restaurant, Youssef feels like an entire lifetime's worth of weight has been lifted off his back

And it's weird because he hadn't even really felt like he was keeping secrets before that. Sure, there were a lot of things that he kept to himself, but he always thought it was more just incidental than purposeful.

But in talking to Nathan, in wanting to know him and wanting to know Nathan in turn, he realizes that there were lots of things that he hadn't said on purpose, that maybe he had wanted to say, to someone who would listen, for a really long time.

Nathan, it seemed, was that person. It was like Youssef finally found a place where he had the freedom to say them. To say them and be understood.

Beyond that, it's a conversation where they're matching each other beat for beat. Not like Youssef is oversharing or Nathan is only being surface level. They both go into this tunnel where everything flows, and when they surface, it feels like they've known each other forever.

As they’re leaving, Youssef is buzzed and is kind of sad because he thinks, "That's it. We've had our date and now I'll go home and he'll go home and who knows when I'll see him again."

They get out onto the sidewalk and Youssef starts to walk back to his car, but then suddenly Nathan is there and his hands are reaching for Youssef and pulling him back, off the sidewalk and into a little alley behind the restaurant.

And then Nathan is kissing him again, finally. Youssef sighs into the kiss, pushing his hands into Nathan's shirt and bunching the fabric there, Nathan backing into the wall and Youssef flush against him, just kissing, Nathan's hands in his hair.

They pull away after a long moment, Youssef's eyes fluttering open to see Nathan's face, to see of course he's smiling, but smiling in the softest, most awed way.

Youssef feels himself blushing and looks away, embarrassed.

But Nathan's hand comes to his chin, tugging his attention back. He kisses Youssef's forehead, and sighs.

“Sorry," he says. "I just...really, really wanted to do that since I nearly killed you earlier."

Youssef clears his throat, but it comes out strangled.

"It's–uh. There's no apology necessary, yeah? I mean, I wanted to do that too. Clearly."

Nathan laughs and shoves Youssef lightly, "You're a real romantic talker, you know that?"

He's smiling again, and Youssef tentatively smiles back.

"Are you ready for part two of our date?"

"There's a part two?"

Nathan's eyes crinkle in mischief. "Of course there is. I don't wanna let you go just yet."

With that, he takes Youssef's hand and pulls him back onto the sidewalk. They walk like that, hand in hand, for a couple of blocks, and Youssef is surprised by how much he likes it. He'd never thought about holding hands with another man before. Not in public, at least. He always assumed if he did end up pursuing something with a man, it would be very much behind closed doors. But there, with Nathan tugging him along, his hand big and warm and comforting, Youssef wonders why he ever thought that in the first place. Holding Nathan's hand feels like the most natural thing in the world.

They walk for a while, until Nathan leads them to another place, another hole in the wall, this one a bar. Right when they walk in, Youssef starts laughing, and he really really wants to kiss Nathan again.

The sign, right at the front, says, "Underground Mel's Bar! Saturday Night: SCIENCE TRIVIA"

He turns to Nathan, "You do know how embarrassing it's going to be when I get everything wrong, yeah?"

Nathan shakes his head and steers Youssef towards an empty table. "No, I realize how great it's going to be when you get everything right and we win money."

He goes to the bar and buys Youssef a drink and an hour later they’ve absolutely crushed everyone at trivia. 

By then, Youssef is on the other side of buzzed and is holding Nathan's hand under the table as the bartender gives them the trivia prize, a plastic crown and a 50 pound note, which is kind of soaked in beer but Youssef doesn't care because he's having more fun than he can remember having. 

Then Nathan is wearing the crown with a cocky smile on his face and there are other people in the bar who are trying to talk to him, because of course they are, he's beautiful. But he's only looking at Youssef and there's a glint in his eyes like there's so many jokes between them, and Youssef guesses that, now, there are.

Finally, he can't take it anymore. He wants to kiss Nathan so bad he almost leans over and does it right there, in front of everyone. But something holds him back, as always. So he squeezes Nathan's hand instead and then looks towards the door, a questioning look on his face.

Nathan nods, and Youssef stands, going to the bar to settle the tab with his prize money, and then he's on the sidewalk with Nathan, Nathan's arm around him as they wait for a car to pick them up.

Youssef mumbles something about his car, but Nathan shushes him and says they'll figure it out tomorrow.

Then he turns to Youssef and tilts his head to the side, that damned smile still on his face

"Do you wanna come back to mine?" he asks.

Youssef stiffens, just for a second. It's not what he was expecting Nathan to say. But immediately, something in him is screaming yes. He doesn’t want to go back to his sad flat with his horrible roommates and his lonely, sparse room. He wants to stay with this man, with his bright smiles and warm touch. So, where normally Youssef would second guess every thought in his own mind, right now he’s sure.

"No pressure," Nathan says quickly. "I mean, we don't have to. I just don't really want this night to end."

For the first time, it's Nathan who is flustered and tripping over his words. For the first time, it's a blush that darkens his cheeks, not Youssef's.

And there's something about that--the sudden shyness when Nathan has been nothing but confidence since the moment they met--that makes everything in Youssef that would resist this come tumbling down.

He's vulnerable. He's afraid that Youssef will say no.

"Yes," Youssef says. He'd chosen without realizing that it had already happened. Hours ago, even.

Nathan looks at him, eyes wide, smile even wider.

 "Yes?'

Youssef lets his own face dissolve into a happy smile, too, and Nathan visibly reacts to it.

“Absolutely yes."

At that moment, the car pulls up, and for the next several minutes, they’re tense, sitting on opposite sides of the backseat, knowing and not knowing what’s to come.

Nathan's knee slides over to bump Youssef's once when the car takes a turn quicker than they expect, and the contact makes Youssef jump nearly out of his skin.

Then they're at Nathan's building, spilling onto the sidewalk and mumbling thanks to the driver, just standing there, facing each other, Youssef already breathing harder than he means to. 

"Are you sure about this?" Nathan says, reaching for him, resting his hands on Youssef's shoulder and the side of his neck. His fingers are cool and gentle and there's something hot in the pit of Youssef's stomach. He's not sure about a lot, but he's sure right then that he has never wanted anything as much as he wants Nathan. 

So he takes a deep breath, leaning into Nathan's touch. He feels the tension leak out of his shoulders and his hands and his face.

"Yes,” he says.

Then, he's on his toes, his arms around the back of Nathan's neck, pulling his face close, so close their breath clashes in the space between them. Nathan's eyes behind his glasses are liquid, crinkled at the edges, so kind that Youssef feels an unexpected wave of emotion.

They're kissing, again, finally, and it's hotter and more encompassing than the one from the alley. This one is immediately the suggestion of more, open mouths and chests sliding together and more than they really should be doing out here on the sidewalk, but Youssef really can't bring himself to care.

Nathan pulls away after a moment, gasping, and it gives Youssef a little thrill that he is capable of doing that to this strong, perpetually grinning man. 

"Come upstairs," he says, voice leaning towards pleading. 

"Hmm...what's in it for me?" Youssef whispers, his voice rough and clearly teasing, unable to resist one last jab before he gives into whatever Nathan wants.

Nathan considers him, one side of his mouth tugged up. He moves closer, kissing Youssef once, long and slow, then moving to his cheek, then his neck, lingering there, his teeth scraping lightly over the skin.

"You'll have to come and see, I suppose," he says, still lingering there, voice vibrating against Youssef's throat. 

And then he's spinning away, walking up the stairs. Youssef is dazed and all he can do is follow, brain not even registering the stairs, or the door to Nathan's apartment, or really the apartment itself, not really coming back to himself until he's standing in the doorway of Nathan's room.

Nathan is sitting on the edge of his bed, which is large and simple, with a white duvet and big forest green pillows leaning against a wall that is covered in a mural that Youssef is sure Nathan has done himself, all muted greens and blues and yellows, abstract and bold and confident, just like him.

Nathan slips his shoes off, tugging the laces, pulling off his socks, and something about it is so intimate that Youssef breaks, right there. He kicks off his own shoes and walks over to Nathan, positioning himself in between his legs, and with Nathan sitting and Youssef standing, kind of leaning into Nathan, they're almost at eye level.

Youssef enjoys being slightly above Nathan, just for a moment. He stares at him, taking his time because he can. The forehead that shoots up into the little curls by his temples, the fragile wire of his glasses and the warm eyes behind them. High cheekbones, covered in soft freckles, a sharp jaw and full lips. He's beautiful. Youssef leans down, kisses the freckles that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about.

One cheek, then the other, then Nathan's forehead and the bridge of his nose, and then finally his mouth, lingering just a moment before bringing their lips together.

Nathan's mouth opens in a gasp as Youssef slides his tongue into his mouth, moving his body closer. Nathan moves his hands to Youssef's back, pulling him in, hands moving up under his shirt, warm and solid on the bare skin of Youssef's back. Youssef shivers, and Nathan slides his fingers around his sides and then up his stomach, then down, lingering right at the waistband of his jeans.

"Fucking hell," Youssef whispers, breaking the kiss because he can't fucking handle being touched like that, so gently and so intentionally.

"Is that okay?" Nathan asks, voice raspy and worried.

"Yes, holy shit, yes. For the love of everything, please don't fucking stop."

He clamps his mouth shut, scared he's said too much.

He doesn't ever let the depth of his desire be known. Not with anyone. Not ever before. Something about it feels too personal, too out of bounds. He was taught that wanting something that much was wrong. Especially wanting another man that much.

But Nathan, who had been looking up at him with a worried expression, dissolves into delighted laughter when Youssef speaks.

"I won't stop so long as you don't," he says, tugging Youssef in. "And I really, really don't want you to stop kissing me."

"Yeah?"

"You're surprisingly very good at it."

"Surprisingly?"

"In the best way possible, darling," says Nathan, and then his hand is at the back of Youssef's neck, tugging him back down and catching his mouth with his own, moaning into the kiss and making Youssef's knees go weak.

Youssef kisses him back, and Nathan's hands are on his skin, and then moving away, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, slowly and deliberately undoing them.

When the last one is undone, Nathan's hands are at Youssef's shoulders, pushing the shirt off and guiding it gently over Youssef’s arms and hands, then tossing it onto the floor. And then they're breaking the kiss again, and Youssef is standing there, as bare as he's been in front of anyone in a long time, suddenly self-conscious. But Nathan's eyes are roaming over him, hungry, and his hands are trailing over Youssef's chest and he's looking up at Youssef and mouthing something that looks like "beautiful."

Nathan tugs his own sweater up and over his head, and pulls Youssef down onto the bed, both of them huffing and giggling when Youssef's back hits the mattress, and then Nathan is straddling him, kissing his neck and his chest and his shoulders, all the while grinding his hips into Youssef's, and it's all Youssef can do to keep breathing, just keep living in that moment, because the way Nathan is kissing him, touching him, is threatening to push him over the edge.

Youssef tugs Nathan back up then, because he needs to be kissing him right now or else he thinks he might explode into a million pieces. Nathan smiles into the kiss, but gives a groan when Youssef bites into his lower lip, tugging with his teeth, bucking his hips up slightly, making Nathan hiss through his teeth.

Youssef suddenly isn't thinking about his lack of experience, isn't thinking about the long and complicated road that led him here, isn't thinking about being embarrassed or ashamed or wrong in any way.

The way Nathan is touching him, the way Nathan is reacting to the way that Youssef touches him back, it gives him a bolt of confidence. 

So he throws his leg around Nathan and flips them over, a strange mirror of the way Nathan had done in that hotel room in Paris, and Nathan is breathless and making small whining noises in the back of his throat, begging Youssef to kiss him again.

Youssef does, kisses a line up from Nathan's belt buckle, over his stomach and chest, lingering at his neck, sucking the skin there a little longer than he maybe should, and finally to Nathan's mouth, which is begging and as desperate as Youssef feels.

They kiss like that for a while, hips grinding together, the friction becoming more and more unbearable, until Youssef pulls away and whispers, right into Nathan's mouth.

"Need you now."

"Yeah," Nathan says, his voice absolutely wrecked. "Fucking yeah. Right now."

So Youssef sits up, rolls off of Nathan, almost off the entire bed, and Nathan is grabbing for him and laughing--no, they're both laughing--and then Youssef is flopping back onto the bed and Nathan is kissing him again, as his hands are fumbling over Youssef's belt, growling a little in frustration as he tugs them, the roughest thing he's done all night, down and off and throws them onto the floor.

Nathan's touch disappears for a moment, and Youssef hears his jeans hit the floor only a few seconds later.

Then there's nothing between them, and Youssef gasps because Nathan is kissing his way down Youssef's body once more, and this time he doesn't stop, and Youssef's mind goes completely and blissfully blank because nothing exists outside Nathan and what he's doing with his hands and his mouth and it's so completely unlike anything that Youssef has ever felt before that he feels like he might honestly pass out.

His voice is hoarse from the noises he hasn't even registered himself making, and he's shaking and shaking and then he's absolutely done, dissolving under Nathan's touch and in the most vulnerable place he could possibly be, but he doesn't feel it, only feels comfortable and taken care of and in absolute ecstasy.

All he can think in those seconds right after is that he needs to be kissing Nathan, so he thinks he whispers something like, "Come here, please?" and Nathan is there again. He's holding Nathan's face in his hands and kissing him, chaste, compared to what else they're doing, and he can feel the exact moment that Nathan turns to jell-o in his arms. 

Then Youssef moves away to return the favor, and has a brief spike of panic because he really just has no idea what he's doing, but then it's happening and he wants it to happen and Nathan is gasping and talking to him and saying, "yes yes yes," and Youssef figures that it's not going too poorly, especially when Nathan dissolves even quicker than he himself had, with a shout and a string of curses.

After that, there's blissfully a whole lot of nothing. Youssef remembers grabbing his shirt off the floor and cleaning them both off, remembers Nathan standing up, pulling on some sweatpants and throwing a pair to Youssef, who presses them to his nose, just briefly, before pulling them on. They smell like Nathan's soap and a hint of something fresh, like being outside. He remembers Nathan falling back into bed beside him, pulling the cover over both of them, putting his arms around Youssef.

Nathan murmurs something like, "I really like you," or maybe, "I really liked that," Youssef isn't sure, either way he agrees and snuggles closer, their legs twined together and his face pressed into Nathan's chest.

~

The next morning, Youssef wakes up first, and he immediately starts freaking out. 

Oh my god that was our first date, he thinks. Oh god why did I say that? Did I really do that? What if I sucked? What if he wakes up and it's so awkward and he never wants to see me again because it's just a one night stand to him and now that he's gotten that, everything will end? Everything will end when I'm just starting to be really sure that I really like him...

And it's almost like Nathan can sense his spiral, because he turns over and cracks an eye open, looking at Youssef for less than five seconds before putting his arms out.

"It's too early for that face," he says, voice raspy from sleep.

"What face? This is my face!"

"That's your thinking face, and whatever you're thinking, it's too early for it."

"I'm not!"

"Don't lie."

"... Fine."

"Do you want to tell me anything?"

Youssef pauses.

"Just," he says, voice much smaller than before, "Can't believe that happened."

Nathan laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, and pulling Youssef to him, kissing his temple.

"Me either, honestly. Not necessarily what I set out to do at the beginning of the night."

"Me either."

"It was pretty great though, yeah?"

"You think so?"

"Don't you?"

"Yeah," Youssef says, honestly. He smiles, tries to tamp it down, doesn't succeed. "It was pretty fucking great."

"Come here," Nathan says.

Youssef leans down, and Nathan kisses him. Just once, soft, without any expectation or room to make it anything other than just that: a kiss. A really amazing kiss.

"Just so you know," Nathan says a minute later. "I'm happy that happened last night. Even if it wasn't what I was expecting, it was perfect."

Youssef is quiet, feeling the warmth of the words wash over him, "Not too much, too quick?"

"Not even close."

They lay there for a while longer, in silence, Nathan's fingers idly running over Youssef's palm and up his wrist.

"Want some coffee?" Nathan says after a minute.

"Oh," Youssef says. "Yeah. If you're okay with me hanging around for a while."

"I literally just asked you," Nathan says, snorting. "Yes, please stay. As long as you want."

So they get out of bed, and Youssef adds a borrowed t-shirt to his borrowed sweatpants, and he makes the bed and straightens the room and folds their discarded clothes from last night while Nathan goes to make coffee, and soon Youssef can smell bacon and toast as well. He smiles to himself, pushing his nose into the scent of Nathan's shirt, closes his eyes, because he just wants to soak in this moment.

After a bit, he shyly goes into the kitchen, accepts a mug from Nathan (one sugar, splash of milk, because of course Nathan remembers the way that Youssef ordered his coffees in Paris), and sits at the counter while Nathan finishes making breakfast.

He's still a little uncomfortable, but he's making an effort to be relaxed.

It starts coming easier as the minutes go by. Nathan is funny and upbeat and still kind of sleepy all at the same time, and Youssef thinks that he really could stay in that kitchen forever, surrounded by bright morning light and the smell of bacon and coffee and frequent stolen kisses from Nathan, the space inside Youssef’s chest growing lighter and warmer as the morning goes on. 

He sips his coffee. He lets himself smile. He’s not desperate to leave.

In fact, he’s rather desperate to stay. 

Chapter Text

Sometime around late morning, Nathan realizes how normal it feels for Youssef to be in his space. Like, there he is, settled in the corner of the sectional, still wearing Nathan’s sweatpants, his hair falling down over his forehead and his face settled into the slightly grumpy resting state that Nathan has gotten so used to. He looks soft, even almost relaxed, and Nathan sees, with a jolt, how easy it has been to let this person in. 

It’s both comforting and terrifying. Comforting, because Nathan has always been someone who loves beginnings. He loves falling into relationships, starting new hobbies, trying coffeeshops and seeing movies in theaters and making friends. This, with Youssef, feels like the best kind of beginning. 

Terrifying, though, because the last time he’d thought he was in the middle of a good beginning, it had been with his ex. And that had ended with Nathan, brokenhearted, watching Ian move his things into a van and drive away. It had ended with Nathan wondering when he’d ever feel like trusting someone new again. 

Terrifying, because he thinks it might be now. His heart may just be asking if Youssef is worthy of that trust. 

Which is why Nathan doesn’t protest when Youssef stands up at around noon, making his excuses and backing into the bedroom to change back into his clothes from the night before. Because as much as Nathan likes having Youssef around, as comfortable as he feels with Youssef snuggled into the couch beside him, he knows that his heart still needs to ease into the idea of someone new. 

So Nathan goes into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, if only to calm the nerves and the butterflies that zip up his spine. He hears Youssef linger in the doorway, but pours his tea first, wrapping his shaking hands around the mug before meeting Youssef’s eyes. 

Youssef shifts from foot to foot and says that he'd better go, and Nathan wants to push a bit, wants to ask Youssef if he can see him again or tell him that last night was one of the best of his life, but he doesn't want to overwhelm him, and he gets the sense that Youssef has been pushed as much as he can over the last few days. And Nathan knows that, even though his gut reaction is to push, to secure a spot in Youssef’s life, even just for another week, that letting this lie, letting it breathe and find the legs it needs to stand strong, is the right thing to do. 

So Nathan smiles, and nods, and walks over to Youssef, putting his fingers on Youssef’s chin and encouraging their eyes to meet. When they do, Youssef tenses, and Nathan almost second-guesses himself, but in the end he reaches for Youssef anyway, pulling him into a long hug. Wrapping his arms around Youssef’s small, sturdy frame and holding him, not too tight, but strong enough to tell him what he doesn’t say aloud. 

And, after a moment, Youssef’s arms find their way around Nathan’s waist, squeezing just as tight. Nathan kisses him on the side of his forehead before he pulls away. 

"Can I call you a car?"

"Oh, not necessary. I think I'll walk"

Nathan nods. Youssef blushes, which makes Nathan's head spin, the color blooming so subtly on his cheeks.

"I had a really great time last night," Nathan says, and means every last word. 

"I did too," says Youssef, and he doesn’t sound as guarded as he had a minute before. 

They just stand there for a second.

Unexpectedly, Youssef reaches up, putting his hand flat on Nathan's cheek, thumb rubbing over the freckles there. He smiles, barely, with no teeth. Nathan beams back. 

"Come here," Nathan whispers. And Youssef goes onto his tiptoes and kisses him once, twice, and a third time. Then he pulls away, smile more a smirk now, and walks out.

When the door clicks behind him, Nathan basically collapses onto the counter, head in his hands, and groans because who was he kidding? There is no easing in with this man. 

Barely five minutes later, Nathan is ringing his sister, not able to stand being alone with his swirling thoughts. 

"Mayaaaaaaa," he says, when she answers.

"Oh god," she says, "what's happened now?"

"I'm in trouble," he says, flopping onto the bed.

"Boy trouble or real trouble?" she asks, and he can hear the background noise of his nephews chattering to each other, and the sound of the tv underneath their young voices. 

"Boy trouble is real trouble!"

"Mmm... sure."

“Are you going to help me, or just make fun of me?” 

“Of course I’m going to help, idiot. That’s what I do."

So Nathan launches into the story. Meeting Youssef long before the trip even started, his crush, the way they'd gotten close while in Paris, the way he felt like he'd known Youssef forever, the vomiting, the kissing, the sleeping together, the date, the sleeping together again.

Maya listens carefully, asking questions when Nathan rambles on about unimportant details (like the sweatshirt Youssef was wearing the first night in Paris because it looked so nice on him), and then she takes a deep breath.

"It is real trouble then, isn't it?"

"This is what I've been trying to tell you."

"But it seems like everything has gone well up to now, yeah?"

"Technically! But–" Nathan pauses. "I just haven't felt this way since Ian, okay?"

Maya sucks in a breath. He knows that she hates his ex more than anyone.

"I don't wanna fuck it up by being too eager. He's kind of closed off and I can tell this isn't something he... Does a lot. I just need to be chill about it, while also letting him know that I really like him."

“And you obviously don’t want to get hurt again,” she says, filling in, as always, the things he doesn’t want to admit. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “That too.” 

"But you deserve to be happy. And from what you’ve said, he doesn’t sound anything like Ian. And he also doesn’t sound like the type of person who would go out with anyone he didn’t already like."

"That’s true."

"All you can do is be yourself and do what you think is best. Just take it one day at a time, yeah? Be honest and up front. Then you'll know that you did what you could."

 "Okay. Yeah. Yeah."

"Nate?"

"Hm?"

"It's going to be fine. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," Nathan says, knowing that his sister is wary, but ultimately, that she only wants him to be happy. 

"I've got to run, though, the boys have football games this afternoon. You okay?"

"More than okay. Tell the superstars to score a goal for me, yeah?"

"Boys, say hi to Uncle Nathan!" Maya yells

"Hi, Uncle Nathan!” Nathan smiles. Quinn and Liam are twelve, and he loves being their uncle. Hearing their voices makes him feel better, almost instantly.

"Love you all," he says.

"We love you too," Maya says. "Hang in there"

And while that conversation doesn't take all the fear away, it does remind Nathan that he has the capability to be honest, and to be himself. That's all he can really control, and the rest of it isn't up to him.

So he spends the rest of the day puttering around the house, reliving some of his favorite moments from the date, like the way Youssef smiled, shy every time, as if he wasn't sure he was going to be allowed to feel that joy. The way he answered the questions at trivia, in that confident, authoritative voice that he uses with his students, softened just enough so that it's not too harsh. Nathan shivers, thinking about that tone of voice, and the happiness in Youssef's eyes, the barest tick of his mouth, when he got something right. The way he offered to share everything with Nathan at dinner, just naturally, like it was second nature. "Do you want a bit of mine? Oh this is great, you should try it." The way he stole looks at Nathan when he thought Nathan wasn't looking, quick as anything, eyes darting over Nathan's face for a second before moving away

The way he stood in the door of Nathan's bedroom, looking at his mural, eyes wide in wonder, and the way he slotted his body between Nathan's legs, confidence suddenly rolling off of him, finally really looking at Nathan, lingering with his eyes, when all night it had been stolen glances.

The way that, every time they'd kissed, Nathan could feel some sort of tension bleeding away, his limbs going from rigid to languid, his neck falling back in pleasure

The sounds he'd made as Nathan touched him, and the moment he'd asked him not to stop. The way he curled into Nathan in sleep, and that he stayed, even though Nathan could feel his nerves, all morning. 

All of it, the little moments. And the bigger ones too. He likes the way Youssef interacts with the world, with this mix of shyness, of gentleness, and rigidity.

Nathan's taken by it all.

A little scared too, but in general he goes for what he wants. And he really wants Youssef. Wants to get inside of his rigid exterior and see all the thoughts inside his head, untangle all of his quirks and get to know who he is early in the morning and late at night, what he dreams about and where his life has taken him up to this point. 

He wants to know it all. 

But then Sunday rolls into Monday, and they both have school all week, and Nathan is busy and he knows Youssef is too, but he can’t quite help the desire to pick up his phone and tell Youssef about his day, especially when he gets home from work on Tuesday and realizes that Youssef’s jacket has been hanging over the chair in the kitchen for three days now. Natan picks it up and presses it to his face, breathing in the faint scent of cigarette smoke and laundry detergent that clings to the fabric. 

Then he picks up his phone.

Nathan : Hi! I hope you've had a good day! Did you know you left your jacket at mine?

He drums his fingers on the counter and busies himself with making an afternoon snack, mostly to distract himself from waiting for Youssef’s response, which comes only three minutes later.

Youssef : Sorry about that. I can get it from you whenever is convenient. 

Nathan : It's no problem! Do you need it this week?

Youssef : Not particularly. It can be whenever.

Nathan : Okay! Then do you want to go out with me again? And I can bring it the jacket? 

Nathan puts his phone down and holds his breath after that text, with crossed fingers and the hope that Youssef says yes. 

Youssef : I would like that. Does Saturday work with your schedule? 

Nathan : Saturday is perfect! 

Youssef: That sounds good. I will see you then.

Nathan laughs at the formality of Youssef’s words, and then can’t resist teasing him, at least a little.  

Nathan : Do you know that you text like you're sending a business email?

Nathan : Do you even have emojis on your phone?

Nathan : Let me know what this shows up as for you: 😺

Nathan : Is it a box with a question mark inside it?

Youssef : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t04ECJHmbNU

Nathan : Hahahahahahahahahahaha

Nathan : You are sneakily very funny, Mr. Farouk

Youssef : So they tell me

Nathan : So

Youssef : So?

Nathan : Saturday?

Youssef : Yes. Saturday.

Nathan : It's a date 💛

~

On Saturday morning, Youssef wakes up early, almost before the sun. He lays for awhile in his small, dark room, Archie curled at his feet, and feels a shock of anticipation for the day ahead. 

He’s going to see Nathan again today. 

His thoughts are running around and around, and he doesn't want to get up yet, but he also has too much nervous energy to stay in bed. What he does want, and it surprises him with its insistence when it comes into his head, is to be sitting in Nathan's kitchen again, hands wrapped around a warm mug, Nathan laughing and pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

It occurs to him to wonder if he's feeling way more than Nathan at this point, taking this more seriously, because Nathan is great and he probably casually dates all the time. Maybe Nathan likes him, sure, but that he's not really serious, maybe it's casual, and Nathan will soon get bored and move on.

He tries to rein himself in, tries to tell himself not to expect too much, not to take it too seriously, but he can't help it, really. Because even though he’s very good at lying to himself, he can’t deny that feels strongly already.

Usually, Youssef keeps everyone sort of at an arm's length. and usually, people are content to be held there. But Nathan wasn't. Nathan teased and needled him from the start, he got under Youssef's skin and made him banter back, he asked questions and made Youssef laugh and all around just wouldn't stay that safe distance away. And on top of that, Nathan is attractive and kind and smart and direct, and Youssef likes talking to him, likes being around him. and even though it kind of makes him uncomfortable, he also likes it when Nathan gets close to something real in him. He likes the feeling that it would be very easy to be vulnerable with him.

He decides, just this once, to let it happen. Whatever it is between them, Youssef doesn’t want to be the neurotic overthinker that ruins it. So he gets out of bed, feeds the cat, feeds himself, goes for a run, showers, and only after all of that does he text Nathan. 

Youssef: Are we still on for tonight? Should I pick you up again? 

And Nathan responds so quickly that Youssef hasn’t even had time to put the phone down. 

Nathan : Yes! Would you want to just stay in at mine? I was thinking I could cook for us? 

Nathan: 👨🏾🍳

Youssef: That sounds good. I’ll be there around 7? 

Nathan: Can’t wait!! 

Youssef is jittery all day, trying to distract himself with old episodes of Bake Off and planning a trip home at the end of the summer, but finding himself distracted, scrolling through all of his texts with Nathan again and again. 

Finally, it’s 5:30, and he allows himself to start getting ready, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car when it’s still much too early, finding himself pulling into the supermarket just to kill some time. 

He lingers in corners of the store, not really looking for anything, but his eyes land on the flowers. And he’s going to walk by, thinking that it’s far too cheesy to bring flowers to a second date, but there, among the roses and daisies, is a small bunch of purple dahlias, so dark they’re almost black. they’re small, and there are only four or five of them in the bunch, but they’re arresting, the lack of color among the riot of bright pinks and yellows. They’re beautiful, he thinks. And he puts them in his basket, grabs a bottle of wine, and hurries back to his car. 

When he pulls to the curb outside of Nathan's building, he keeps his hands on the wheel for a long moment, taking three deep breaths and shaking his head slightly. He's so nervous, and he wants so badly for this to go well. Not just that night, but whatever it is that's going on between him and Nathan in general… well. He just wants it to go well.

He's scared, but he wants it.

And it's that thought that propels him out of the car, the flowers in hand and the wine poking out of the bag. He straightens his spine and walks to the door, pressing the button before he can second guess.

“Hi!" Nathan's smiling. Youssef can already tell, even just from his voice crackling through the speaker.

"Hi," he says, smiling a bit himself.

"Come on up!" Nathan says, and the door buzzes. Youssef climbs the three flights of stairs to Nathan's apartment and closes his eyes to the count of five before knocking.

When he does, the door opens almost immediately, and there's Nathan, just as Youssef remembers him, or really, brighter than Youssef remembers him. He's got flushed cheeks and a wide grin, and he's wearing a sweatshirt and tight black jeans, thick socks on his feet.

He just looks at Youssef for a moment, taking in the flowers and the bag and Youssef himself. Youssef forces himself to keep looking at Nathan, but he's wavering, about to look away, when Nathan finally speaks.

"Are those for me?" he says, pointing to the flowers.

"Oh," Youssef says, shrugging. "Yes. They are."

Nathan clasps his hands together, right over his heart, and his eyes go completely crinkled with how wide he smiles. He lets out a little laugh, even.

"They're so beautiful, Youssef," he says. Youssef hands them over, and Nathan cradles them carefully. "Thank you so much. I love them."

Youssef feels suddenly too warm, especially when Nathan looks back at him with all of this unnameable emotion

"Hello," Youssef says, because he's the most awkward person in the world.

Nathan laughs again, shaking his head. "Hello," he says. "I'm really happy you're here. Come in! What else have you got there?"

Youssef steps into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. He hands his bag off to Nathan as well, before bending to untie and take off his shoes. Nathan makes appreciative noises as he walks into the kitchen and begins to unload the contents of the bag

"This wine is fancy!" he calls, and Youssef laughs under his breath. 

He walks into the kitchen, which is filled with the most amazing smell of garlic and onion and some kind of spice that Youssef doesn't recognize.

"Damn, Farouk," says Nathan, turning to him, an already-full wineglass pressed to his bottom lip. "You really know how to treat a man"

Youssef smiles and shrugs. "I do try," he says, then, "What are you making? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You're nice," says Nathan, turning back to the stove. "It's almost done! It's just red sauce pasta. I'm not a good cook, but this is my go-to thing when I want to impress someone."

He smiles over his shoulder, and Youssef turns to pour himself a glass of wine, just to hide his grin. 

"Trying to impress me?" Youssef says.

“Only if it's working."

Youssef lets his eyes trail over Nathan's body, from the way his hair is standing up a bit today, all the way to his pink polka dotted socks.

"You don't have to try," he says, his voice quiet, almost reluctant to let the words out.

Nathan turns to him, eyes sparkling. "What was that?" he says, stepping across the kitchen so they're face to face.

Youssef's back hits the counter, and Nathan is so tall right then that Youssef wants to kiss him. Nathan is biting his lower lip, and his eyes are dark, and Youssef shivers again. He feels Nathan's desire, so Right There in front of him that he can't ignore it or reason it away.

"You're already impressive," he says. "You don't have to try."

"Youssef," Nathan says, and he sounds dazed, really. His eyes are wide with wonder.

Nathan moves again, closer, this time setting his hands on either side of Youssef on the counter, leaning over him.

His face is so close that Youssef's breath stutters. He's not sure who moves first. Or maybe they both do. But in the next breath, Nathan's mouth is on his, and it's like taking a full breath for the first time in a week.

Youssef collapses into that kiss, mouth falling open in a soft moan as Nathan's hands wander under the hem of his sweater and he pushes himself up, clumsily, onto the counter, Nathan grasping his thighs to steady him. 

Youssef's hands are cupping Nathan's face, thumbs running over the line of his jaw, back and forth, back and forth, and Nathan is murmuring into the kiss, hands warm and strong on Youssef’s back, his legs. 

Youssef isn't sure how long they would have stayed there, locked in the rhythm of their kissing, if the pan on the stove hadn't started bubbling over, making the burner sizzle and hiss.

"Shit," Nathan says, drawing the word out and pulling away reluctantly. "Shit shit shit. Stay there. Hold on."

He spins towards the stove, moving the pan off the heat and stirring it furiously. Youssef sits on the counter, hands clasped between his knees, trying to steady his breathing.

Finally, having sorted the sauce out, Nathan turns back to Youssef, looking sheepish. They stare at each other for a second, and then they both start laughing, Nathan walking over and dramatically collapsing onto Youssef's lap, shaking with laughter.

"That's so embarrassing," he says finally, voice muffled. Youssef places tentative hands on his back, rubbing gently.

"It's fine," he says. "I burn everything, so anytime I'm in the kitchen things tend to spontaneously combust."

Nathan snorts and raises his head, eyes searching Youssef's own.

"You're cute, you know that?"

Now it's Youssef's turn to snort.

“Yeah, yeah. Is dinner ready?" he says.

Nathan nods, squeezing Youssef's legs again and going on his toes to steal a kiss.

Then, they eat dinner, and Youssef is very complimentary because the pasta really is good, but he also can't really concentrate on the taste of anything because he's distracted by Nathan's physicality, right next to him.

They chat a bit over dinner, nothing too intense. Just about their respective weeks, funny things that happened with students, and it’s nice because now there are students from each school that they both know. Nathan is surprised when Youssef tells him that he coaches the track team (“You’re a proper runner?”) and is further delighted when that leads to Youssef telling him that he’s done two half marathons and is hoping to do the London Marathon sometime soon.

Nathan tells Youssef about a new art piece he’s working on for his nephews, because they’re moving house and will have a new bedroom and they wanted something cool and superhero themed to go on the wall, which leads to him telling Youssef about his nephews, which leads to Youssef having to really work to hide how soft he feels while listening to Nathan talk about them.

“I’ve never really wanted kids,” Nathan says. “Especially not after becoming a teacher. But I love those little guys. Love being their uncle.”

And Youssef, who before that moment would have said that someone talking about being an uncle would have no emotional effect on him whatsoever, is fully melting on the inside.

They finish the bottle of the wine between them, and sit there for awhile with their empty bowls, tearing off hunks of bread and nibbling on them as they talk, and at one point Nathan's knee bumps Youssef's under the table, and it rests there, comfortable

Finally, Youssef stands, taking their plates, and begins to wash the dishes

"You don't have to do that! You're the guest!" says Nathan, trying to tug the sponge away

"You made the food, so it follows that I should clean up. It's logical."

“Youssef, seriously-"

"Nathan," Youssef says, using his teacher voice. Nathan freezes. "I can wash them. It'll take me ten minutes. Please let me."

Nathan just looks at him for a moment, soft smile settling on his face.

"Okay. You win. But I'm gonna go pick a film for us to watch, and you will have absolutely no say."

Youssef rolls his eyes. "That's fine," he says.

"More wine?" Nathan asks, opening a cupboard and pulling out another bottle of red.

Youssef nods, returning to his scrubbing. A beat later, Nathan is behind him, hand on his arm, setting a glass of wine down beside the sink and flashing Youssef a smile. Youssef nods in thanks, and Nathan leans in, kissing his neck, lingering for just long enough to make Youssef's eyes flutter closed. Then he's gone, chuckling to himself when Youssef makes an unintentional noise of displeasure. Nathan walks into the living room, humming under his breath.

Youssef washes everything, methodically getting all of the corners and undersides with hot water, until everything is gleaming and drying on a rack beside the sink. He picks up his wine glass and takes a gulp, surprised by how little discomfort he's felt since he got there. He was so nervous all day, all week really. But the moment he stepped into Nathan's warm little place, all of that seemed to melt away. He feels good, he realizes. Relaxed and like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be at that moment.

So he walks into the living room. Nathan is sitting on the couch, and he smiles at Youssef as he settles in beside him, closer than he might've at the beginning of the night, but still leaving a bit of space between them.

Nathan announces that they will be watching Notting Hill , and Youssef says. "Good. My favorite movie."

And he's so deadpan that he knows Nathan genuinely can't tell if he's serious or not. But the thing is, he is being serious. He does love that movie.

"Wait," Nathan says. "You're serious, aren't you? Youssef. That's the gayest thing you've said since I met you."

"That's the gayest thing? Not 'Yes I will go out with you, a man?' not 'You could share my bed?'"

"Nope," says Nathan, shaking his head. "Nope. The Notting Hill thing. That's the gayest."

"You are impossible," Youssef says.

"Well now we're definitely watching it. And it is required that you quote whatever parts you know by heart."

"Absolutely not."

"Why!"

Youssef is quiet for a moment, but figures he's already embarrassed himself enough, so he might as well go for it.

“Because then I would just be speaking the whole movie," he says.

Nathan's mouth drops open, and then he bursts out laughing, falling backwards on the couch, leaving Youssef to burn with embarrassment until finally, he sits back up, leans over, and kisses Youssef soundly.

"The more I know about you, the more I like you," he says.

Youssef is dazed, both by the kiss and the words.

“I like you too," he whispers, eyes still half closed. "I like you so much."

He said it. He can’t quite believe he said it. 

"Oh?" Nathan says.

Youssef shoves his shoulder, gently. "Fuck off Ajayi. You already knew that."

"I suspected," Nathan says, catching Youssef's wrist in his hand and pressing a kiss to the skin there. "But it's still nice to hear."

Youssef shivers. "Yeah," he says. "It is."

"Youssef?" Nathan says, voice low.

"Hm?"

"I just want you to know that I really really like doing this with you."

"Arguing?" Youssef says, and Nathan grins.

"Absolutely that," he says. "But also, this. Hanging out. Going out. All of that."

Youssef brushes his fingers over Nathan's cheekbone. He lets himself smile.

"I like it too."

Chapter Text

After the Notting Hill night, Nathan and Youssef start to see each other as often as they can. Youssef is as shocked as anyone. He’s also shocked that, in the weeks that follow, the closeness between Nathan and himself doesn’t feel scary. It doesn’t feel heavy or huge, shoving its way into his life and disrupting his careful walls and boundaries. 

Instead, it’s like laying in the sun on a warm day, the warmth seeping in slowly but surely. Before Youssef knows it, Nathan has situated himself so naturally in his life that it feels strange to imagine his days without Nathan’s bright laugh, his playful jibes, his strong hand squeezing Youssef’s own. 

It’s, he finds himself thinking tentatively one afternoon when he and Nathan are grocery shopping together, nice. Nice to stand beside the crisps and watch Nathan sing along to the music playing over the speakers. Nice to go back to Nathan’s place and badly chop onions. Nice to wake up in the morning and see a text from Nathan, complete with emojis that he can see now. 

But, of course, that goodness can’t last forever. Especially not for Youssef, who has always been convinced that he is one misstep away from disaster. 

And he’s not been proven wrong yet, because almost two months after he and Nathan started seeing each other, Youssef has a Bad Night. 

Bad Nights, for Youssef, can take many different forms. It could be that he drinks too much, could be him sitting in complete silence and feeling an unwillingness to talk to anyone, could be impulsively going out and talking to too many people and waking up with his head spinning and his shirt a few buttons undone. Could be punching something. Could be curling into a ball and sobbing until his chest hurts. The only thing that unites them is that all Bad Nights feel the same. Empty and full of longing, for something different. Or maybe just to be someone different. He’s never quite sure. 

How a Bad Night will manifest depends on his mood, and a lot of the time, he can stop it before it gets too intense. He can go for a run, can immerse himself in grading papers or playing video games or driving until he finds a body of water big enough to make him feel comfortably small. But sometimes, something triggers a Bad Night, and he's spiraling before he can use any of his coping mechanisms.

Usually, it has to do with his family.

An offhand comment from his mother about his future wife, after which she usually stops, as if reminding herself over and over of the reality of the situation. The way his father sighs every time Youssef mentions his students, or the way he constantly bemoans the fact that Youssef hasn't come home to celebrate Eid in about five years. Or, worst, when his sister would call him and press him, telling him that it wouldn't be so bad to keep his head down and do what their parents wanted, at least for a little while, that it would be easier for everyone. That the family missed him, wanted him to come home.

And when this happens, all Youssef can think about are the things that she isn’t saying: they miss who they thought you were. They would love for you to come home, but only if you come home straight and back in med school. Not a gay teacher, of all things.

He does a good job of keeping things surface level with his family most of the time.

But sometimes, when he lets himself slip, he'll hang up the phone and this unmoored anger and disappointment and sadness will rise in his throat and all he can do is be a little reckless, or else risk being swept under a wave he won’t be able to surface from.

These nights are something Nathan hasn’t seen yet, and Youssef, hopefully, has no intention of letting him any time soon.

But of course, it isn’t something he can exactly control. And though he knows that the more time he gives to Nathan, the more likely he’s going to break down in his presence, he can’t stay away. And doesn’t want to. 

Youssef has stayed over at Nathan's for at least one night of each of the last four weekends. He’s never packed a bag or anything, never expecting for it to happen again, but always falling into it willingly. He could admit to himself how much he liked the feeling of waking up with Nathan's arms around him, the way Nathan was smiling even before he was fully awake, the strong coffee and good breakfasts that Nathan always insisted Youssef let him make whenever he stayed over.

They've gone to the movies, to dinner a few more times, played minigolf, gone to an art show, and stayed in at Nathan's more often than not, Nathan trying in vain to teach Youssef how to cook the few dishes he knew.

Nathan had even come to school one afternoon, meeting Youssef in his classroom after track practice, and they'd driven out to a nearby lake and taken a long walk as the sun set.

There are still lots of steps to take. Nathan hasn't been to Youssef's flat yet, they haven’t had the "So what are we?" talk yet, and there are a thousand small confessions that Youssef found himself wanting to make on a day to day basis. But things were going well.

Until one Friday night, almost two months after the Paris trip, when the Bad Nights caught up to Youssef. 

He’s on the way to Nathan's. He’d been planning to wheedle Nathan into going on a run with him by the river, because the weather was so nice and he'd been feeling kind of jittery all day

And of course, just as he’s pulling up to Nathan's building, his phone rings.

It’s his Mom. He takes a big breath and answers, trying to keep his voice light as he turns off the car, but doesn’t get out. His greeting is nearly drowned out by a flurry of voices on the other end. Youssef can pick out his mother's, and his sister's, and he thinks he can hear an aunt or two as well, but the rest he can’t place because it’s so overwhelmingly loud. Finally, after a minute of waiting (he'd long since learned that this was the best recourse), his sister's voice becomes clear.

"I'm getting married, Youssef! I'm getting married!"

This is all she gets out before she’s swept into the vocal tornado once again. Youssef feels his heart drop. It isn’t that he doesn’t like his sister's boyfriend. It isn’t that he’s not happy for her, even though she’s only 21 and he personally thinks she could have stood to wait another year or two at least. No. It’s more the excitement and elation he can hear in the voices of his mother, his aunts, various family members who are and aren’t blood related. At one point, even his father comes in, and Youssef can hear him crowing with pride.

It’s the sinking knowledge that if he ever decides to get married, the news would garner the opposite reaction.

"I'm so happy for you, Lena," he says quietly. She hears him, somehow, and takes the phone off speaker for a second.

"I'll find you a good date, don't worry. You won't be alone. I'll call you later and tell you more, okay?"

He could say, "I can find my own date, thank you very much."

He could say, "I'm not alone, in fact I'm heading inside to make out with this guy I'm seeing and every time I see him, it makes my insides ignite."

He could say, "That's great. Set up your gay brother with a beard to please the family. I'm all for it."

But he doesn’t. He just tells her that he loves her and hangs up the phone.

Then he drops his head onto the steering wheel and takes three enormous breaths.

He tells himself he won’t let it turn into a Bad Night.

He has a good life, and his family isn’t purposefully malicious, and it’s something he can deal with, their disappointment, because it’s distant. What’s close is Nathan, his warmth and the way he seems to permeate good things through Youssef’s life, more and more as the weeks go on.

But he still feels Off as he forces himself to get out of the car, walk up to the door, and ring the buzzer.

The door buzzes, and Nathan lets him in, and Youssef climbs the stairs, his feet feeling very heavy indeed.

Nathan opens the door with his characteristic smile, the one that seems to be just for Youssef. It’s kind of like the one he shows to the rest of the world, but Youssef has begun to notice the difference. It’s something in the way that Nathan's eyes crinkle, fluttering closed for just a moment, right when he sees Youssef. Something so inherently happy about it. It makes Youssef shiver every time.

"I was just starting to get worried!" Nathan says, leaning in to give Youssef a quick kiss before stepping aside and letting him into the apartment. "You're usually so painfully on time!"

Youssef huffs a laugh, checking his watch. "I'm only five minutes late," he says.

"Exactly," says Nathan, following him into the kitchen. "I was getting ready to send out a search party."

Youssef rolls his eyes and leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are ridiculous," he says.

Nathan smiles at him, then takes in what Youssef is wearing. His face falls.

"No ruuuunning," he says, pouting and pretending to slump over onto Youssef, making Youssef put out his arms to catch him. "Suddenly both of my legs are mysteriously broken and I need you to stay here and nurse me back to health."

Youssef can’t help but laugh at that, shoving Nathan lightly back to his feet. He isn’t feeling much like a run anymore either.

“Okay, okay," he says, slipping off his tennis shoes and putting them by the door to the living room, holding his hands up in surrender. "No running."

When he turns back, Nathan is looking at him carefully, his head tilted to one side, eyes scrutinizing.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

Youssef nods, then shrugs, then nods again.

"I'm fine," he says. "Just been a long day."

"You seem different now than you did on the phone earlier," Nathan says, his voice careful. Youssef can tell Nathan’s choosing his words so Youssef won’t shut him out. He’s done this before, when the conversation has veered too close to this very subject. Youssef is almost overtaken by the idea that Nathan, with absolutely no cooperation on his part, can sense his boundaries. Tiptoes toward them gently, but unafraid. 

He tries for a smile. "You're nice," he says, turning his eyes away, focusing on the takeout menus stuck to the fridge. "It's nothing, really. Just tired and want to have a chill night. Can we do that?"

Nathan is quiet for a beat longer and Youssef doesn’t think he 100% believes him, but finally he feels Nathan's arms around his waist, Nathan's chin on his shoulder. He leans into the touch, feeling the release of his physical tension as he did. Mentally he’s still running circles, but Nathan can make that go away in time, too.

"We can do that," Nathan says, kissing Youssef's shoulder, his neck, and his cheek, before moving away, grabbing his phone off the counter. "Let me guess.... pizza?"

"Yes, please."

"Spinach and mushroom?"

Youssef smiles as wide as he can as he bats his eyes dramatically. "You know me so well."

Nathan laughs, "Cut that out! It's creepy."

Youssef drops the act, smiling normally now, as Nathan orders the pizza on his phone. When he’s done, Youssef reaches for him, and without a word they move to the couch, Nathan's mouth is on his for the first time in a week, and Youssef wishes briefly that he could end every day like this.

They kiss like that until the door buzzes and Nathan gets up dizzily to meet the pizza delivery. Youssef pulls his phone out of his pocket on instinct and sees that he had 45 texts, pictures of the engagement from his sister, mom, and three of his aunts. And a text from his dad, too, "See what you're missing?"

His heart pulses painfully.

He puts the phone down, rubbing his temples. Nathan comes back into the room with the pizza, two plates, and two cups of water balancing in his arms.

They eat, making small talk and watching whatever is on Channel 4. Nathan tells him about his week, about his sister's kids and how he'd gone to their soccer game on Wednesday. About how his sister wanted to meet Youssef, but Nathan was putting her off.

"Why's that?" Youssef asks, taking a deliberate bite from his slice. He feels a sudden, icy pulse of fear. Is Nathan embarrassed of him? Was he just some little secret hookup? Had he just been reading too much into the last seven weeks with Nathan? 

"Because she is a Lot,” Nathan says, breaking into Youssef’s secret panic. “And she's going to love you and try to steal you away to be her friend instead of my boyfriend."

Youssef freezes.

So does Nathan.

"Boyfriend?" Youssef says.

Nathan is blushing, and flustered, which is enjoyable because usually he’s the more put together one. "I mean, you know. I know we haven't like, talked about it or anything, but I was thinking, I mean, I've kind of been thinking of you like that for the last couple weeks anyway, so..."

Youssef bites his lip to hide his grin.

"I like it," he says quietly. "I'd like to be your boyfriend."

"Yeah?" Nathan says, face softening.

"Yeah," says Youssef. "I don't have much practice at it, but I think I could get used to that."

Nathan grins, then leans over and kisses Youssef, tasting like tomato sauce, with warm skin and wide eyes. Youssef feels a shiver settle over him, along with the certainty that he does not deserve this.

They lapse into a comfortable silence for the rest of the meal, and then Nathan goes to take a shower while Youssef continues watching tv. Except halfway through his episode, an immense exhaustion comes over him. He isn’t sure if it’s from the phone call, the fact that his sister was engaged, the text from his dad, the moment with Nathan, or the fact that Nathan's sister has clearly heard enough about Youssef to want to meet him, when Youssef has never even considered mentioning Nathan to his sister, and has barely told Nathan anything about Lena at all.

Okay, so it’s probably a combination of all of that.

But whatever it is, it hits him hard, in the way that Bad Nights usually do. Inescapable and vast. He’s glad that this time, it isn’t a night where he wants to fight or drink so much he blacks out. Tonight, it’s just an exhaustion that is so heavy he can barely keep his head up.

He pushes himself off the couch and walks into Nathan's bedroom, rummaging through the drawers until he comes up with the sweats that he’s become so fond of borrowing, soft and grey, and a dark blue sweatshirt. He crawls into Nathan's bed and tries not to think about what Nathan's reaction will be to finding him there

A moment later, Nathan comes out of the bathroom, towel around his hips, humming something slow. He stops short when he sees Youssef snuggled up in bed already, scrolling through his phone, reading and rereading the texts from his family.

"Oh," Nathan says, breaking into a lopsided grin. "I didn't realize it was time for bed already!"

Youssef nods, not trusting his voice. He puts his phone on the bedside table and looks up at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry.

"Are you that tired, honey?"

And it’s that, the soft way that Nathan switches from teasing to concerned, the tone of his voice when he calls Youssef 'honey,' and the way he changes quickly and slides into bed beside him, gathering him up in his arms before Youssef can even begin to order his thoughts.

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

"You know you can talk to me, yeah? Even if it's about something heavy. I'm here and I'm willing to listen," says Nathan, his voice more serious than Youssef has ever heard it.

Youssef doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He just tentatively starts to open himself up, feeling the comfort of the moment and the strong support of Nathan's body under his own. He thinks, for a moment, that maybe it’s a bad idea to reveal too much of himself so soon. But when he glances up at Nathan's face, which is open, without a hint of apprehension or annoyance, he knows that he would do it anyway

"You know how I haven't really told you very much about my family, even though you've told me loads about yours?" he says, starting at the most logical point.

Nathan is quiet for a beat. "I have noticed," he says. "I didn't want to push."

Youssef reaches up and puts a hand on Nathan's cheek.

"You're too kind for your own good," he says.

Nathan shakes his head.

"The reason for that is that my family and I are on...complicated terms."

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning I forced myself to believe that I could be 100% straight and enjoy it even though it was pretty clear to everyone that I wasn't and when I chose to stop forcing myself to act like I was straight, everyone took it as a betrayal of some unspoken agreement that we'd all come to."

"Oh."

And so Youssef goes on from there, telling Nathan about the years of hating himself for the things that he felt himself wanting, the way his own desire made him feel so ashamed that he couldn't even begin to imagine letting himself feel pleasure in any real way, ever. The way his sister keeps telling him that he could do it, he could act the way everyone wanted him to and nothing had to change. The way he has tried. The way he even got close to proposing to his last girlfriend, before he panicked and broke up with her and disappeared from the place he grew up.

The way, when he moved, he felt himself grasp a little bit of freedom.

The way he's slowly begun to not hate the idea of his own heart.

But that there's still so much disappointment and talking around things and rejection of him as he truly is, that things with his family can be near-impossible sometimes.

"So that's why I've never dated, not the way we are now. Not with someone I really liked. That's why I got started so late. That's why I feel so behind, and like I never got the practice I needed, never got the Gay 101 lesson or anything like that. That's why sometimes I have these nights where things get...tough, and I can't exactly control my reaction.

"And my sister called me today to say she's engaged, and I got a lot of texts from my family and it just felt like too much. And then you're here, and you're so amazing, and I feel so good when we're together, and you want us to be boyfriends, or whatever, and I want that too, but I'm scared of all of this surging up and screwing us over.

"Because I want to be your boyfriend. And I want to do it right, because I haven't ever before. So...I just thought you should know all of this? Even though it's still early, you know, with us. But it felt important. Yeah. That's all."

Youssef stops himself then, feeling embarrassment flood his limbs, his face hot with it.

Nathan doesn’t say anything for a moment.

And then his arms just tighten around Youssef, warm and sure, and the room is dark and cosy and safe, and Youssef buries himself in that embrace like it was the equivalent of surviving.

"Youssef," Nathan says, his voice so gentle.

"Too much?" Youssef says, half-joking.

Nathan shakes his head, letting Youssef go a bit so they’re eye to eye. He’s looking at Youssef with eyes that are overly bright, blinking rapidly.

"Thank you for telling me all of that," he says. "I know it wasn't easy. And I think that's twice as many words as I've ever heard you say at once."

Youssef pushes his chest playfully, and Nathan catches his hand and kisses his knuckles. 

"I'm thankful that you trusted me with that," Nathan says, his breath warm against Youssef’s fingers. "And I promise that, as long as we're doing this, that I'll listen and try to be mindful and helpful with the situation with your family."

Youssef feels his voice crack as he says, “Thank you.”  

"But you know," Nathan says, his eyes intent on Youssef’s own. "That you don't deserve that. That you're smart and funny and careful and kind, and your parents and your sister and everyone else should be proud to know you, exactly as you are."

Youssef lets the quiet fall between them, feeling warm from his toes at the words, turning them over in his own mouth. They taste like Nathan: salt and tomatoes and a hint of whiskey.

And then he’s snuggling into Nathan's chest, kissing the soft skin above the collar of his shirt, whispering thank you's as Nathan murmurs reassurances into his hair.

They stay like that for a long time, as if Nathan can sense the weight of the exhaustion that hangs over Youssef.

At one point, Nathan gets up to make them tea, and they sit against the wall, Nathan reading to Youssef quietly from a biography of Kandinsky that he’s had sitting on the bedside table for two weeks now. 

It isn’t too long after that that Youssef feels himself on the verge of sleep, his head on Nathan's lap, feeling, if not Good, then better, at least. Supported, at least. And strangely, for the moment, optimistic about the future. Forgetting about anyone who had looked at him and wished he were different, because Nathan is someone who looks at him and is happy because Youssef is exactly who he is. He sleeps soundly in that knowledge. That he only has to be him, and that’s more than enough for Nathan. 

Chapter Text

"Are you serious?" Youssef says

He's sitting in his car, Nathan in the passenger seat beside him, staring through the windshield.

It's Friday night, and he's had a terrible week. His temples throb, his mouth has the dry, cottony feel he always gets when he hasn’t had enough water, and he’s behind on laundry, so he’s wearing his least favorite trousers. 

It's been four months since he started seeing Nathan every weekend, and sometimes after school for a quick dinner together too. And sometimes in the morning for breakfast. And all the texts and calls in between. He hadn’t realized how much he’d craved that: the constant reassurance that someone wants to be around him, for someone to care about his thoughts and feelings. 

He really likes spending time with Nathan. One might even say that Youssef is starting to feel more than like for Nathan. But he hasn’t let himself go there yet. He doesn’t want to leap ahead, only to turn around and realize that Nathan isn’t there yet. And it’s all fine. Youssef is very good at keeping himself in check. So if he doesn’t let himself think too much about how deep his feelings have grown, that’s okay. That’s something he doesn’t need to know. What he does know was that this, what was between them, feels real. And strong. That he likes testing the weight of it sometimes, reassuring himself that the mutual feelings were steady. He doesn’t need to assign words to it. He just needs to know it’s there. 

But right now, he really does feel like he’s going to kill his boyfriend.

They’re sitting outside of a bar, close to the Indian restaurant where they'd gone on their first date. And it’s a gay bar, first of all. A place Youssef had always been too embarrassed to step foot in before. And second of all, they’re sitting outside of a gay bar… on Drag Karaoke night.

"There is just no possible way," Youssef says, reaching for the steering wheel. "I can't do drag karaoke"

"Why not!" Nathan says, looking mock-indignant, clearly enjoying himself.

"Well. First of all, I'm me. I'm the definition of 'stick up your arse.'"

 Nathan opens his mouth, smirk already forming, but Yousef puts his hand over his lips.

"NO gay jokes! No! Second of all, I have never been in drag in my life, and thirdly, I'm the world's most god awful singer"

Nathan licks Youssef's hand, and he pulls away, shaking his head in faux-outrage.

"Childish."

"You are so attracted to me, it's insane."

"You have no evidence of that."

"You're literally so into me, you can't stop looking at my lips."

"That is circumstantial at best."

Then Nathan is grabbing him by the neck, pulling him in for a rough kiss over the dashboard, and Youssef is gasping into Nathan’s mouth, and then again when Nathan's tongue plays over his own.

Nathan pulls away a moment later, just as quick as he'd kissed Youssef, and Youssef sighs and grumbles.

Nathan is laughing, pushing Youssef's hair back into place and then holding his face between his hands.

"Listen to me, honey. You've had a bad week. You need to go somewhere and forget about school and students and literally any other serious thing that has ever existed. That's what this is for. You don't have to sing, you don't have to be in drag, you just get to get drunk and watch queer people sing Lady Gaga in sparkly outfits and live outside the real world for awhile. Okay?"

Youssef stares into Nathan's eyes for a moment. They're concerned, and earnest, and stubborn, and he knows that Nathan genuinely thinks this will be something fun for him. Something to help him. He feels some words rise to the tip of his tongue. Bites them back.

"If we go in there and you hate it, we can leave, okay? No questions asked. But give it a chance? For me?"

Youssef takes a deep breath. Nods.

"Okay. I will. Promise."

And he will. For Nathan, he would do just about anything in the world.

They walk into the bar and it's dim without being dark, and loud without being overwhelming. Nathan immediately sees a couple people that he knows, three guys and two girls, and he holds Youssef's hand and introduces them, and they greet Youssef brightly and smirk while they say they've heard a lot about them, and Nathan's freckles darken with his blush.

Nathan's friends buy them their first round, and they sit with the five of them for awhile, Youssef talking to the girls, Jules and Kiki, who are married and quietly intimate with each other in a way that makes Youssef's head spin. They're nice, they're all nice, and Youssef starts to feel a part of himself unlock. He never thought of himself as someone who could have a community of queer people around him. Never even thought he'd leave the closet. So to sit there, surrounded by out people who are healthy and happy and supportive of each other, and to feel comfortable, to hold Nathan's hand and feel like they belong, that's enough to make Youssef brace a hand on the table, to keep from getting overwhelmed. 

He finishes his drink too fast.

Then the room is exploding into cheers, because two drag queens, named Helena Bottom Carter and Peggin’ Markle, have gotten onstage, and then people are clambering toward the stage for their chance to sing, and people are buying Youssef more drinks, and he sees that not everyone who is doing karaoke is dressed in drag, it's just that the drag queens are hosting, and people sing Madonna, and Gaga, and Whitney Houston, and Carly Rae Jepsen, and everyone is whooping and cheering, and Nathan is dancing in a circle, singing to himself, and Youssef is getting more and more tipsy, and the tension is totally gone from his limbs.

Then Kiki is getting up, and Jules kisses her palm before she walks to the stage, and one of the drag queens is kissing her on the cheeks, and then the room goes very quiet because Kiki is singing Landslide by Fleetwood Mac, and suddenly Nathan is beside Youssef, pulling him onto his lap, and the whole bar is singing the chorus together.

Nathan is a bad singer, and Youssef is a bad singer, but it doesn't matter, because Youssef has had three shots of something purple and he's feeling uninhibited and sitting on Nathan's lap and can think of absolutely nothing better in the entire world. And for a second, he thinks he feels a tear on his cheek, but in the next moment it’s gone, like it had never existed in the first place. 

Too soon, it's over, and it's like a spell has been broken, and Kiki is walking off the stage to the loudest applause yet, and Jules is scooping her up and kissing soundly, and Youssef turns to Nathan and grins and kisses him too, right in the middle of the bar, and even though Youssef knows no one is looking, no one cares, it still sends a thrill through him. 

Nathan stiffens a bit, in surprise, Youssef thinks, and it makes him happy, this reaction, because it lasts only a fraction of a second before Nathan is throwing his arms around Youssef and his friends are whooping and Youssef’s cheeks are hot, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s happy, he thinks, and the thought is almost enough to make him fall off Nathan’s lap. 

They stay for a long time, longer than Youssef anticipated they would. They dance, and they cheer on Nathan's friends as they sing a group number to "Let's Have a Kiki" by The Scissor Sisters, with Kiki, of course, dancing in front. And when Nathan finally goes up on stage, after repeated berating from Youssef, from his friends, from neighboring tables in the bar, and sings  badly to Diana Ross, Youssef puts his knuckles in his mouth and bites down so he can hide how wide his smile is. 

Youssef feels pleasantly warm. He smiles up at Nathan, and catches his breath at the tenderness in Nathan’s expression. He looks away, not because he doesn’t want to see it, but because he wants whatever they’re going to say to each other to be between just them. He wants to save it for the quiet of Nathan’s bedroom, if he can have his way. 

—

Nathan hadn’t been sure that bringing Youssef here would be a good idea. It’s a safe place for him, had been so since university, when he fell in with Kiki and Jules and the rest of them. It had been the first place he truly felt no inhibitions, no need to apologize for the way his body occupied space. But just because it was magical for him, didn’t mean that it would be the same for Youssef. He knows Youssef was very different from him, and that’s why they work so well, but he’d hoped that Youssef could, in his own way, love the place like Nathan did. 

By the end of the night, he thinks he’s done a good thing. The joy he felt seeing Youssef let himself drink and dance and be himself, even in a room full of strangers, was something bright and alive in Nathan’s chest. He never wants it to end. 

It's not until he turns from the bar and sees Youssef is literally falling asleep at their table that Nathan knows they should leave. Thankfully, Nathan’s sober because he only had the one drink at the beginning of the night, because he knew that Youssef has had a tough week and wanted to give him a chance to blow off some steam. Now, he puts a gentle hand on Youssef’s shoulder and tells his boyfriend that they should go home.

And Nathan almost says it then.

Because Youssef has been a good sport, and has put himself so gamely into Nathan's world, and because he lets Nathan put his arm around his waist and basically carry him to the car, and because he sits in the passenger side, half-asleep and grinning, singing Landslide under his breath and reaching over and touching Nathan's face, asking him if he can borrow some pajamas when they get home.

"Home" he says

Nathan's flat, he means.

But "home" is what he says.

Nathan has to bite his lip to keep from telling Youssef everything that's going through his mind, right then and there. Like how it's only been four and a half months, but that's enough time for Nathan to know that this is something real and strong between them. That it’s always taken him longer to know, but with Youssef he just always has. That he loves it when Youssef borrows his clothes and makes himself at home at Nathan's place. That he loves their banter, loves that Youssef is skeptical of most things, but seems to be willing to try anything if Nathan asks him. That he loves that Youssef is strong willed and soft hearted, and more open than he gives himself credit for. 

That Nathan loves him. Already, he does. And it’s terrifying, but only for a moment. Mostly, it’s just… nice. Settled. Warm. 

But as he drives through the quiet night, he doesn't say it. He wants to, and when they get home, he kind of wishes he had, but he doesn't. It doesn’t feel like the right time, whatever that means. 

It's not too late when they get home, only 10:30 or so, and the cool air as they walk from the car to Nathan's building has perked Youssef up a bit

"Do you want something to eat?" Nathan asks as they walk in. Youssef takes his shoes off and sets them neatly by the door, and Nathan loves that. He’s falling-down drunk, but his hair is in place, and his shoes are just as neat as they always are, sitting beside Nathan’s haphazard pairs by the door. 

"Mmm," Youssef says, going onto his tiptoes to kiss Nathan once, twice. "If you want to make something, I wouldn't say no."

"Scrambled eggs and bacon?"

Youssef groans "That sounds like the best thing in the entire world right now"

"Coming right up, then"

Youssef blinks heavily up at Nathan, a small smile on his face

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm not gonna ever make it to the kitchen"

Youssef snorts and shoves Nathan away, blushing and shaking his head

"I'm going to take a shower," he says, turning away. "And you aren't invited!"

Nathan catches him in his arms, Youssef laughing from deep in his stomach, and presses sloppy kisses to his neck, his ear. Youssef pushes him away, hands trailing down Nathan’s chest, and Nathan suppresses a shudder while they kiss once more.

He lets Youssef go and pads to the kitchen, methodically taking the eggs out of the fridge and whisking them together in a bowl, all to calm his racing heart. He hears the shower turn on, then off, and then a moment later, he hears Youssef stop in the door to the kitchen. Nathan turns, and catches his breath, which is ridiculous, because Youssef looks tired and his eyes are half-lidded with the lingering alcohol, but Nathan loves him so much it steals his breath. 

Youssef is wearing his sweatpants, and one of Nathan’s plain black t-shirts. He shifts under Nathan’s gaze, fixing his hair, and Nathan notices suddenly that it's gotten so much longer since Paris. It's nearly brushing his shoulders now.

All Nathan can do is open his arms and kiss the top of Youssef’s head. 

“Mmm," Youssef says, "it smells very nice"

"So do you," nathan says, then pinches Youssef's side and skitters away with a cackle.

Youssef rolls his eyes and goes to the cupboards, taking out two plates, two forks, two napkins, and two mugs. He sets everything on the bar and begins to make tea, and again Nathan is punched in the chest, at how comfortable Youssef is, at how at home he seems there, with him. And for the hundredth time that night, he almost says it. 

When they’re both sipping the dregs of their tea, Youssef moves to start doing the dishes, putting the plates in the sink and running water over them, waiting for it to get hot. The shirt he's wearing has gotten caught on the waistband of the sweatpants, which he's had to roll a few times, and there's a small sliver of skin right there, at his hip, and Nathan can't stop looking at it.

As if in a daze, he rises, goes over and puts his hand there, the other one reaching to shut the water off. Youssef shivers at the touch, turning so that their knees knock together.

"You don't want me to wash the dishes?" he says, and there's a glint in his eyes already, the residual tipsiness from the shots, the night, and their closeness. He crosses his arms in the small space between them and looks at Nathan challengingly.

"I really, really don't,” Nathan says, and it almost occurs to him to be embarrassed at how desperate he sounds. 

"Oh?"

Youssef's arms are still crossed, and Nathan can tell he’s enjoying the distress Nathan feels, the desperation chased by lust, chased by amusement, chased by something like exasperated fondness.

Then Youssef is touching him, and they aren't even kissing yet, but Nathan is having a hard time pretending like he isn't turning into a puddle.

First Youssef’s hands are at Nathan’s neck, feathersoft and running over the soft skin at his throat and under his jaw, then running over his lips, dragging the skin there just a bit, the suggestion of a kiss. His own thumbs are flat against Youssef's collarbones, pushing the wide neck of the shirt aside even further.

Then he moves one hand down, under the hem of his shirt, palming the skin at Youssef’s hip, pinky dipping under the waistline of the sweatpants, thumb rubbing little circles at the base of Youssef's spine.

Nathan lines their hips up and leans forward, so Youssef has to uncross his arms, bracing them on the counter behind him, their bodies flush.

He moves his hips slightly, and Youssef shivers a little, face flushing at his reaction, making Nathan smile. 

Nathan's hands sweep up his sides, then back down, thumbs catching on the sweats, tugging them just slightly.

"Fuck," Youssef says, breaking the silence with a rough whisper

Then Nathan dips his hand lower, carefully, and just as he wanted, Youssef's head falls back, and Nathan finally kisses him on the neck, lingering with quick breaths and long touches.  

It's a moment before Youssef lifts his head again, hands moving from the counter to Nathan's face, where he takes hold, a bit rough, and kisses Nathan fully, with a sound somewhere in the back of his throat. Nathan's rhythm falters, and Youssef presses his advantage, scrabbling for Nathan's hands

"You don't want to-"

"Not yet"

He kisses Nathan again, pushing away from the counter and moving them towards the couch, and Nathan knows that's as far as they were going to get tonight.

They stumble back onto the couch, where Nathan manages to nearly fall over, and so then they're collapsing in a giggling heap onto the cushions, Nathan's knee digging into Youssef's side, Youssef's head bumping Nathan's chin.

"You are a mess," Youssef whispers into Nathan's skin when they finally right themselves.

"I can't let you be the mess in this relationship all the time" Nathan's voice is hoarse and he doesn’t care.

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Ayaji"

Nathan rolls his hips into Youssef's, making him moan, and smirks.

"What was that?"

"Kiss me"

Nathan does, then, smiling into the kiss, which is gentle, as opposed to the way his hands are pinning Youssef's to the couch. It's always this way between them, ranging from incredibly gentle to aggressive, sometimes both at the same time.

As Youssef flips them over and dips his face, kissing his way down Nathan's warm chest, stomach, hips, Nathan’s thinking about how much fuller his life is because of this man. How he really would do anything for him, how he loves the way Youssef reacts to him, how easy he is to tease, but how he gives as good as he gets. How this is comfortable, not awkward, even afterwards. How he knows Youssef will allow him to pull him off the couch and into bed, though Youssef will want to fall asleep right on the couch. How they'll crawl into bed together and Youssef will be able to sleep, easier now than he’d been able to at the beginning. How good it feels that Nathan is something he’s begun to trust.

And how it will be quiet and comfortable in the morning, and they'll get to do this all over again. It's a privilege, he thinks. And even though he hasn’t said the thing he’s been thinking for weeks now, he knows, deep down, that they have time. That he’ll say it, and he’s almost positive Youssef will say it back, but that they aren’t in a hurry. Neither of them are going anywhere.

Chapter Text

Youssef is incredibly nervous when Nathan asks if he wants to meet Maya one weekend. It's something that’s been said a few times, but never when Nathan has been actually serious about planning a time. Youssef has poked his head into a few Facetime calls between Nathan and his sister, has given a wave and a smile before ducking out of frame again, but actually meeting her face to face is incredibly intimidating. 

They've been seeing each other for about five months now, so Youssef knows how important Maya and the boys are to Nathan. It’s because he knows how important they are that he’s balked whenever meeting her comes up. He knows Maya is getting harder and harder to fend off, knows that this is because Youssef is the first person Nathan has seen for longer than a few weeks in maybe six years, and because Nathan sends her pictures and updates and she wants to get to know the person that is so important to her brother. (Youssef knows this last part because he read it over Nathan’s shoulder in a text one night and hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.)

In turn, Youssef really does think he’ll like her. He has seen a million pictures of Maya and the boys, Quinn and Liam. She has a calming energy about her, someone who takes no shit except from the people she loves, someone who smiles easily and is understandably protective of her younger brother. Part of Youssef thinks that he really is ready, that this is serious enough that he wants to take that next step.

But he's petrified, because he has never done this. Not like this. Every girl he ever dated had been a family friend, someone who he'd known forever, and whose mother had probably held him when he was born.

This is the first time he's ever had to worry about properly meeting the family of someone he’s seeing, and not only seeing, but someone he can envision so clearly a future with. And he’s not sure what’s more terrifying: meeting Nathan’s sister, or the fact that it’s getting to the point where he actually cannot remember what his life was like before Nathan. So, in short, he’s terrified. 

It's a week in October when Nathan finally gives Youssef an actual date and time, and Youssef can't say no. He looks at Nathan and sees how important it is to him. And he says yes, and though he’s still scared, something about saying yes eases the paralyzing fear into something anticipatory and sweet. 

And the invitation isn’t that intimidating. Nathan just wants to bring Youssef to see Quinn and Liam play football. So Youssef says yes. He'll go. His mind buzzes with nerves when he says it, but he is resolute.

He knows that Nathan can tell, about the nerves, because he scooches closer to Youssef on the couch, his eyes molten behind his glasses, and takes Youssef's wrist in his hands, pulling it to his lips and kissing the soft skin there

"Thank you," he says. "It means a lot to me."

"I know, Nate," says Youssef. "I just hope they don't hate me." He gives a little chuckle.

"Oh honey, they couldn't. You're very funny when you want to be. Just pretend they're students on the first day."

"I yell at my students on the first day. So they fear me."

"Okay well then," Nathan says, rolling his eyes. "Pretend they're the students from chemistry club, whom you actually like."

Youssef considers. "That I can do."

And then Nathan laughs and pulls him into a kiss that is both playful and swelling, and Youssef forgets that he's nervous for a little while.

But when it gets to be Friday, Youssef can barely focus on his classes.

He just keeps imagining meeting Maya and immediately saying something stupid, or something he hadn't known would make her angry, and her hating him, and then Nathan telling him that it was fine, that they will get over it, but eventually it driving a wedge between them and then Youssef will be alone. He very nearly texts Nathan to say that he contracted stomach flu.

But he knows that Nathan would see right through that and come to pick him up anyway, so he buttons up his coat and walks to his car, fidgeting with his fingers, the strap of his bag, the fringe on his forehead.

He drives home, half in a daze, feeds Archie, changes into jeans and a jumper, a Liverpool one he stole from Nathan a few weeks prior. And then he sits on his bed, his stomach in knots.

Finally, after what feels like three good turns around the sun, Nathan texts him.

"I'm outside! 🥰"

Youssef jumps, scaring Archie under the bed, grabs a red hat and stuffs it over his hair, anxiously patting all his pockets once, twice, three times. Just to make sure he isn't forgetting anything.

Just before he walks out the door, he gets another text from Nathan.

"Take a deep breath for me, yeah?"

Youssef pauses on the threshold, and he can't help but smile, just a little, at his phone. Sometimes, he gets such a clear glimpse of how well Nathan has come to know him in these last months that it is almost unbearable. To be known in that way, and to attempt to be unafraid of it. 

He takes a deep breath. Then two more, for good measure.

He walks into the cool October evening with a pounding heart, but steady breathing. He slides into the passenger seat of Nathan's car, and is met by his boyfriend leaning across the console to give him a lingering kiss. Youssef relaxes into it, his hand moving to Nathan's cheek almost on its own accord. He caresses the skin there, thrilled to feel just a little bit of stubble on Nathan's jaw.

Nathan pulls away, grinning.

"Hi," he says. "You ready?"

“Hi," says Youssef, settling back into his seat with a blush spreading over his cheeks. "I am."

The drive to the match doesn't take too long, ten minutes maybe. Nathan chatters on about his day, asking Youssef simple questions at intervals, because he's a perfect person and knows that Youssef will be saving his social battery, his words and his small measure of charm, for the game.

They park, and then they're walking towards a small knot of parents huddled on the sideline. the game hasn't started, and there are a seemingly infinite number of twelve year olds warming up, their breath puffing in the chilly air. Youssef spots two identical boys, extremely tall, with brown skin and curly hair. They look so much like Nathan that his breath catches.

They walk towards the adults, Nathan taking Youssef's hand in his calloused one, tugging him close. Youssef relaxes at the touch.

A moment before they reach the group, the crowd parts and a woman pops through the gap. She's as tall as Nathan, but soft and curvy where he's thin and angled. Her hair surrounds her face in a cloud of shiny curls, streaked through with bright pink. Her face is bright and open, just like Nathan's, and their features could have been copied and pasted from one to the other. Same freckles, same eyes, same full mouth. Her face is rounder than his long one, but other than that, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Natey! You made it!" she says, throwing her arms around her brother. He hugs her back, squeezing and tucking his head in a bit, as if sheltering her.

Youssef knows he's four years younger than her, knows something, vaguely, about her being married for a brief time when she was very young, knows that she had the boys when she was only 20, knows that she is vice president of an ad agency and knows that she loves football almost as much as her sons do.

She releases Nathan from the hug and then turns to Youssef, her smile still warm, but her eyes narrowing just slightly. Youssef supposes this is something that is universal about being an older sibling. He knows that he's been hard on Lena's boyfriends, and doesn't blame Maya for looking at him like that. He tries to remind himself of this, tries not to shrink under her stare.

"You must be Youssef," she says.

"It's really good to finally meet you, Maya," he says, offering a hand. She stares at him for a moment longer, then breaks out into laughter and throws her arms around him as well.

She's probably three inches taller than him, and the hug is warm and generous, and he suddenly feels strangely emotional about it.

By the time she releases him, he's pushed that reaction down, instead giving her one of his genuine smiles, the ones he usually doesn’t feel like giving to anyone but Nathan.

"I'm so happy Nathan finally let me meet you!" she says, looping her arm through his and pulling him towards the bleachers, leaving Nathan to hurry in their wake.

They settle in, Youssef in the middle of the two of them, just as the game is getting ready to start. They put their feet up on the row in front of them and Maya points down in delight.

"Oh this is how I know I can trust you," she says, laughing. Youssef and Maya are wearing identical Adidas sneakers, white with bright green stripes down the sides.

He laughs, bumping their ankles together, and when he glances at Nathan, he's beaming at the two of them. It bolsters Youssef, that smile, and he turns back to Maya, asking her what positions the boys play and whether the team is any good.

She tells him that Quinn is the keeper and Liam plays midfield, that the team isn't great, but they're doing better this season than they expected.

They talk about football some, moving towards Liverpool and the way Nathan and Maya grew up watching games with their father. (Youssef glances at Nathan when Maya brings up their father. A brief flash of hurt shows on his face. Youssef squeezes his fingers.)

Then they're talking about how Youssef and Nathan met, because apparently Maya has never heard the entire story, just knew they were chaperones on the same school trip, and she gets a kick out of hearing the whole story, vomiting and all.

Youssef asks her some questions about her job, about the recreational team he knows she plays for, and about the boys. She seems happy, like Nathan usually is, to carry the conversation.

They all cheer for the team in an increasingly tense game, and Youssef finds himself leaping up right alongside Maya and Nathan when, late in the second half, Liam scores off a corner kick, barely getting his head on the ball and then running like crazy back up the field to chest bump his brother.

Maya is jumping up and down, holding Youssef's head in her arms and screaming like she's just seen England win the world cup, and Youssef is laughing and clapping and finds that he hasn't thought about his nerves since they got there. Maya's presence is calming and comfortable, which shouldn't have surprised him, because that is exactly how Nathan has always made him feel. But he appreciates the fact that she seems just as comfortable talking to him as she was her own brother.

The rest of the game is fairly unexciting. Maya starts asking Youssef some questions about himself. Pretty easy ones, ones that don't make him squirm. Where he grew up, what he teaches at school, how old he is, those kinds of things. Nathan jumps in a few times, and the conversation just flows between them.

The final score is one-nil, and Youssef hangs back a bit as they wait on the sidelines for the boys to get out of their postgame huddle. They sprint over to the sidelines, completely ignoring their mother in favor of Nathan.

They slam into him on both sides, and he puts arms around both of them, rubbing their hair and telling them how well they'd played. They keep asking him if he saw that goal, or the stop that Quinn made, or the time Liam slide-tackled that other kid.

Then they move to Maya, letting her kiss them on the temples, and smiling, almost despite themselves, when she praises their play.

Then Nathan is beside Youssef, taking his hand again.

"Boys?" he says, and Youssef can tell he's a little nervous, which weirdly makes Youssef less so.

They look at Nathan, both of their eyes sliding to their clasped hands. They really do look so much like a younger version of him.

"This is Youssef," Nathan says.

"We know," Liam says. "Your boyfriend"

Quinn holds up a hand, which Youssef high-fived tentatively.

"Do you like football?" Liam asks.

"I do," Youssef says.

"Cool," says Quinn.

"Did you see me score?" Liam asks.

“Oh yeah," says Youssef. "It was massive. And Quinn, you had what? Sixteen saves?"

The boys grin at him, before one of their friends calls them over, and they jog away, backpacks bumping between their thin shoulder blades. Youssef slumps against Nathan.

"Twelve-year-olds are scary," he says.

"You did fine," Maya says. "They spoke directly to you, which is big."

Nathan grins at him, and his eyes are bright with as much happiness as Youssef has ever seen there.

"Oi," Maya calls. "Come on or I'm getting pizza for one!"

The boys high-five their friends, then wave goodbye and come jogging back over. Nathan and Youssef follow Maya and the boys to an Italian restaurant nearby, settling in a booth and ordering pizzas for them to share. Youssef is mostly quiet, listening to the conversation flying around him. The boys clearly adore Nathan. They hang on every word he says, and ask him a million questions. And Nathan loves them like they're his own. Youssef can tell in the way Nathan's spine curls towards them, in the careful way he considers their questions before he gives an answer.

Maya is quiet for a while too, watching her sons and Nathan, sometimes asking Youssef a quiet question. It's all very nice, and comfortable. Youssef still feels a bit like he's intruded on something that isn't His, but it feels like something that could become partially His, in time.

It's towards the end of the night when Maya casually says it.

The boys are in the bathroom, so it's just the three of them at the booth, Maya paying the bill. Youssef tried to protest, but she waved him off with such finality that he knew it wouldn't make a difference to argue.

"Oh, I meant to ask. Could you babysit on Wednesday, Nate?"

"Sure," Nathan says. "You have a work thing or something?"

"Uh," Maya says, seemingly distracted by signing the bill. "No. I have a date."

"Oh! Why didn't you say you were seeing someone new!"

"Oh," Maya says, waving a hand. "It's not exactly new. I mean. The dating is. But-okay. Nate, don't freak out."

Nathan raises his eyebrows

"Why would I freak out?"

"Just because, well. Greg and I are seeing each other again."

Nathan's face changes so quickly that Youssef reels back a little. It goes from open and excited, smiling at his sister, to suddenly snapped closed, his mouth a thin line and his eyes narrowed.

"Are you kidding me?" he says

Maya shakes her head. "It's still new. We're just seeing how it goes, you know?"

Nathan opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the boys are back at the table and Maya is shaking her head, eyes wide, pleading. Nathan shuts his mouth with a look that Youssef interprets as "we aren't done here."

They say their goodbyes then, Youssef getting high fives from the boys, as Nathan hugs them both to him. "You're squishing me, Uncle Nathan," Liam yelps, and Nathan lets them go. Maya gives Youssef a huge hug, promising that she'll see him again soon. Nathan tells her that he's going to call her the next day. She looks tired as she says okay.

Youssef asks Nathan, quietly, as they walk to the car, if Nathan would rather him drive.

Nathan passes the keys over without a word, and Youssef is suddenly nervous again. He hasn't seen Nathan like this, not in five months. He's seen him tired and grumpy and angry and frustrated. But this is something else.

When they climb into the car, Youssef drives to Nathan's house. It's quiet in the car, tense but not between them, just the tension rolling off Nathan, making Youssef nervous.

It isn't until they're back at Nathan's that Youssef speaks.

He's in the kitchen, making them tea because that's all he could think to do with his hands. Nathan is sitting at the bar, his hands winding over themselves on the countertop. His eyes are distant.

"Nate?" Youssef says. Nathan's eyes refocus, and he offers Youssef a weak smile.

 "Sorry. I'm just out of it."

Youssef takes their mugs and goes into the living room, hoping Nathan will follow. He does, and they settle onto the couch. Youssef pulls his courage together. He needs to be there for Nathan in the way Nathan has been there for him, even if he's scared

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, darling?"

Nathan smiles at Youssef over his mug of tea.

"I like it when you call me that," he says.

Youssef rolls his eyes. "No changing the subject, Ajayi."

Nathan lets out a breath and takes a tentative sip of his tea. "I've told you that Maya was really young when she got married, right?"

Youssef nods.

"She was only 19," Nathan says. "She'd been seeing this guy for a couple of years, was in her second year of university. And she got pregnant. They were already sort of thinking about getting married, in the figurative sense, so when she got pregnant with the boys, they decided that they may as well give it a try. Maya wanted to have the kid, or kids, as we later found out. And at first, Greg, her ex, was all for it. He was a really good guy at the start. Attentive, really just lovely. We all loved him.”

Youssef nods. Squeezes Nathan’s hand. 

"So they get married, sort of quick. She was already four months pregnant. But they were so happy. I remember thinking that I'd never seen Maya that happy. And for like, a year, it was good. The boys came, and we all fell head over heels for them. They were such cute kids. And Maya was just the most amazing mother. She seemed to have this instinct, and even though I know it was fucking hard to have twins when you're 20 and trying to graduate from uni and a new wife and all of that, she was just so good with them from the start.” 

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Youssef says, and Nathan grimaces. 

"Yeah. The thing about it was that Greg was also 20, and he was starting to figure out all the things that he was missing by having a wife and two kids at home. And I think he just reached a point where he freaked the fuck out. Which, honestly, I can't blame him too much for? Because I would have freaked the fuck out in his place too."

"Jesus," Youssef whispers.

"It was what he did with that freak out that I can't forgive him for, though."

"He left?" Youssef guesses

"Disappeared one weekend," Nathan says, nodding. His jaw clenches and it looks painful. 

"Shit."

"Maya didn't see or hear from him for over a year."

“Dear god.” 

"Apparently," Nathan went on, "He went abroad with some of his friends and just...stayed gone. His parents are well off, and they never liked Maya. So I guess they supported him as he backpacked across Asia while my sister graduated from school, got a job, and made herself the kickass woman she is today with absolutely no help."

Youssef sucked in a breath. He’d wondered what Nathan would reveal about Maya, whenever he trusted Youssef enough to do so. This was worse than anything he’d imagined. 

"Are you serious?"

Nathan just sighed. "We all helped her as much as we could. My parents, me, our family, her friends. She was fine. She's fucking brilliant. And Greg is just a fucking cliche. But she's my sister, you know? I remember being seventeen and seeing her just completely breaking down because she wasn't sure she could do it."

"It was about six years ago that Greg got back in touch. Wanted to apologize, wanted to make up for all of the years he'd been gone, wanted to give Maya all this money because he knew she could easily take his arse to court if she wanted to."

"And she said yes?"

"She said that there was no way she'd ever share custody of the boys, but that she thought they deserved to know their father. He sees them one weekend a month."

"Shit," Youssef says again, taking a sip of his tea. His mind is reeling. He'd known, from offhanded things that Nathan had said, that something dramatic had happened with Maya around the time Nathan went to university. But he hadn't ever been brave enough to ask outright.

He sets his mug down on the coffee table and reaches for Nathan. Nathan lets himself be pulled into an embrace, burrowing his face into the crook of Youssef's neck

"I just can't fucking believe she would start seeing him again," Nathan says, his voice muffled by Youssef's sweatshirt. Youssef scratches circles into Nathan's back, murmuring into his hair.

"I know, darling," he says. "I know. To watch your sister go through that, and then, all these years later, for her to even entertain the idea of seeing him. I can only imagine how that feels."

Nathan nods.

"She's my best friend," he says in a small voice. "And those kids. I did what I could to help her raise them, you know? Because their dad is a piece of shit. And I know she's capable of making her own decisions and I can't tell her what to do. But I want so badly to tell her that it terrifies me. She's just going to get hurt again."

Youssef lets Nathan go, still holding his hands, kissing his knuckles. He thinks over what he wants to say.

"I think there's a way to tell her your worries without it coming across like you're trying to tell her what to do," Youssef says.

"I just know I'm going to get too emotional about it and say something that will come across as controlling."

"It will probably be hard," Youssef says. "But don't you think it'll be worse if you don't say anything and just let it explode one day?"

"Probably," Nathan says, his face twisted in the expression he gets when he's frustrated with something that's happened at school. Youssef reaches out and smooths the line between his brows.

"We can practice," Youssef offers. "I can help you think of what to say.”

"You'd do that?" Nathan asks, his voice small. Youssef nods. Nathan snuggles into Youssef's chest again.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that at such a young age," Youssef says, a whisper. He's overcome, a little bit. Thinking of Nathan, at seventeen, trying to be strong for his sister, taking care of his nephews, being someone strong for the three of them when they didn't have anyone else.

Nathan shakes his head. "It was Maya who was really going through it," he says. "But yeah. It still sucked."

"You're really good, you know that?" Youssef says.

Nathan shakes his head and pulls away, and his face is shaded in the way that tells Youssef he doesn't want to talk about this anymore. Youssef knows it's something they'll come back to, maybe even tomorrow, but Nathan looks weary, and Youssef will do anything to ease that.

"Thanks for going with me tonight," Nathan says, changing the subject, just as Youssef knew he would.

"I'm really glad I went," Youssef says. "I didn't do too bad, did I?"

"Oh honey," Nathan says, a real joy sparking in his eyes for the first time since Maya had said Greg's name. "You were fantastic! They loved you. Maya especially. You were stupendous, wonderful, lovely, all of it!"

Youssef laughs and rolls his eyes. "That's a little bit of a stretch."

Nathan shakes his head, and then he's looking at Youssef with a mixture of fondness and desire, and it's that particular look that always takes Youssef apart within seconds.

"Nate..." Youssef says.

Nathan is already moving closer, kissing Youssef's neck, right below his ear, where Nathan knows is his weak spot

"Hmm?" he murmurs.

"You are impossible," Youssef says. Nathan bites his neck.

Youssef laughs in surprise and pushes him away, just slightly, and Nathan catches his wrists and pulls him close, and his eyes are dancing with happiness, but his voice comes out a growl.

"Youssef," he says. "I know tonight was kind of a lot and I know we're going to talk about my sister and all of that later, probably even tomorrow, but right now I'm thinking about how good you look in my sweatshirt and how happy I am that you're meeting my family and I really just want to think about that. So I really need you to just fucking touch me. Is that okay?"

Youssef shivers so violently that concern flashes briefly across Nathan's face

It fades when Youssef's hands go to Nathan's neck, rubbing circles in the skin there, before dropping to his waist, sliding up his body, slipping under the hem of his shirt and pulling the fabric over his head, dropping it on the floor somewhere beside them.

Then Youssef is on his knees, pushing Nathan back into the couch, kissing the planes of his chest and the curve of his stomach and the hollow of his throat, thoroughly enjoying the small noises that Nathan makes in response. It isn't so often that Youssef completely takes the lead like this, and he knows that, when Nathan is in the right mood, it drives him insane.

"God," Nathan says, panting already. "Fuck, honey, come here."

Youssef does, taking his time, lingering at Nathan's neck, his jaw, until Nathan whines in frustration and Youssef is kissing him fully, without warning. He feels Nathan reacting, his body shifting and his throat humming with the sounds he hasn't released.

And then, just because Youssef can, because sometimes it's fun to be the one to completely fluster Nathan instead of the other way around, he pulls away. Stands up.

"What the–"

"Come on," Youssef says, looking over his shoulder. Smirking.

"Oh my god, I hate you," Nathan says, pushing himself off the couch, scrambling to follow Youssef.

"No you don't," Youssef says.

He feels a hand close around his wrist, spinning him around, and suddenly he's being pinned against the wall, Nathan solidly in front of him, their chests nearly touching, Nathan's hands making a cage around him.

Youssef's breath catches.

"You," Nathan says, leaning down, almost kissing Youssef, but not quite, leaving him chasing Nathan's mouth. "Are such a tease."

"I have to keep you on your toes sometimes," Youssef says.

"Fucking hell, Youssef," Nathan says, dropping his head, his hands still braced against the wall. “You're killing me."

Youssef reaches out, his hands grasping Nathan's hips, then moving up his sides, until they come to rest on Nathan's bare chest.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks.

Nathan groans, and then his body is pushed against Youssef's, his hands strong, his mouth warm. Nathan is fully in control again, and Youssef can tell that the tension and sadness he'd been feeling is the furthest thing from his mind. Youssef feels a little thrill, as he does every time he realizes that he can do that, alter Nathan's mood for the better, just by existing.

"Jesus," Nathan breathes, as Youssef bites into his lower lip.

And Youssef knows he could take Nathan apart in the hallway, not even having made it to the bedroom, if he wanted to.

And then, he finds that he does want to.

So then his hands are at Nathan's waistband, and he's pushing his tongue into his mouth, and Nathan is swearing into the kiss, and then Youssef is going to his knees, and it should feel horribly cliche, but instead, it feels powerful. Nathan's hands are in his hair, and Youssef feels a spike of pleasure from bringing this man to the point of being a stammering mess.

After, Nathan slumps against the wall, and Youssef stands up and hovers his hands around Nathan's face, wanting to touch him, but not too soon. And then Nathan is taking an aborted breath and grasping for Youssef, and then is all but carrying him to the bed, and Youssef hits the pillows with a gasp of laughter, and all he can think is: I love you .

I love you, I love you.

But what he says is, “Nathan?"

And Nathan looks at him with his kind, dark eyes, and Youssef can't help it then. 

"I love you," he says. 

Nathan is braced above him, and Youssef watches the words hit him. It's disbelief, at first. Followed quickly by wonder, then the brightest, beaming happiness.

"I love you, too," he says. 

Youssef squirms with pleasure that has nothing to do with what they've been doing.

Then Nathan laughs a little, and Youssef raises an eyebrow at him.

"Jesus, Farouk," he says. "Only you would be sucking my dick in the hallway one minute and then telling me that you love me the next."

"What can I say," Youssef says. "I am multifaceted."

But he's blushing Deeply because he knows that it's kind of ridiculous and he hadn't meant to say it, it just came out. Because it was true and he didn't want to wait for a more appropriate moment to say it, and because he’s known it for a while and has just been too scared. But tonight, something has shifted, a pillar of stone sliding into place with Youssef and Nathan on top of it, sturdy and unbreaking. 

"God I love you," Nathan says. “It feels so good to say it.” 

Youssef feels tingling in his fingertips.

And then Nathan is kissing him again, and his hips are lined up with Youssef's, and the world goes hazy at the edges like it does every time they do this, but this time even more so because they're breaking apart every couple of minutes for one of them to murmur those words into the other's skin again and again and again. And then it's the middle of the night and they are exhausted and Youssef is honestly a little bit delirious, but he makes sure that he's facing Nathan, has his face between his hands, and he’s half asleep, but he means his words. 

"Nathan Ajayi, I want you to know that I think I've known you were gonna be it for me since I met you. And I didn't know because, well, I'm me. But I still knew and you're so good. I love you."

The last thing he hears before he goes to sleep is Nathan laughing, pulling him close, and whispering that he knew something too.

"That made no sense, my love. But I understood it perfectly.”

Chapter Text

The first time they fight, it sort of sneaks up on both of them. The anger and the force of it. Because even though Youssef is generally a grump, and Nathan is passionate to a fault, they understand each other so well that anger seems too far away even to imagine touching. So the fight was as much a surprise as anything. 

After, they look back to the weeks and even months before, and both see the places where it was building. But the day it happens, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

They go to the grocery store together, stocking up for a cold winter weekend spent holed up in Nathan’s apartment. 

They walk the aisles like they always do, Youssef pushing the cart and Nathan consulting the list, occasionally disappearing from Youssef’s side to pick out things that catch his eye. They’ve decided to make one of the only dishes Youssef knows how to cook from scratch, which is chicken soup, and the cart is also filled with ingredients for Nathan to make bread, which has become something of an obsession for him over the last few months. The first few times were wildly unsuccessful, but Youssef has to admit that he’s getting better. The last loaf was edible, even almost good. So he encourages it, if only so he can keep watching Nathan work the dough on his kitchen countertops, his strong hands kneading in a way that seems practiced, mostly because Nathan is just extremely capable. 

So they’ll make soup, and bread. And Nathan will sneak bags of crisps into the haul as well, and Youssef will pretend that he doesn’t see, because he loves the delighted smile on Nathan’s face when he puts the bags in the cupboard, acting like he’s getting away with something.  

They debate about ice cream in the frozen aisle. Youssef is against it, being practical and against eating cold foods when it's freezing outside Nathan is for it, because, well. Of course he is.

And they end up getting it in the end, peppermint flavored, and Youssef secretly isn’t mad about losing that battle, because Nathan is so happy about it. 

They drive home, back to Nathan's, which Youssef has secretly started thinking of as sort-of His as well, and as they’re putting the groceries away, Nathan goes kind of quiet.

He’s been doing that more and more often lately, zoning out when they’re together, missing pieces of their conversations, not smiling as much as Youssef would like. He just seems to fade out of the world for a while, retreating inside himself. And while Youssef understands, it’s so unlike the Nathan he knows that it scares him. 

Youssef has asked him about it, and Nathan has brushed him off, saying that nothing is the matter, he’s just worried about Maya and the end of term and lots of other things, that there’s nothing for Youssef to worry about. 

And even though Youssef knows that isn’t necessarily the whole truth, he hasn’t wanted to push. He hasn’t been confident enough in their relationship to prod at Nathan until he tells him what’s really the matter. And frankly, it has been making Youssef wonder if maybe he’s the problem. If it really is something else, surely Nathan would just tell him. Right?

"Do you want some tea?" Youssef asks, after they've been sitting in the living room in silence for about thirty minutes, the TV playing something neither of them are paying attention to. Nathan nods, but doesn’t look at Youssef. His eyes are glazed over, like he could be anywhere and he wouldn’t notice. 

Youssef nods and goes to the kitchen, methodically taking the mugs out, setting the kettle to boil, hoping that there will be something about this mug of black tea that will make Nathan talk to him, will fix whatever is cracking in the foundation of their relationship.

When the tea is ready, Youssef brings the mugs back to the living room, giving Nathan a smile as he presses the warm ceramic into his hands. He knows he needs to say something, to open the door for Nathan to talk to him one more time. It’s just… he already feels on the defensive, even before he’s opened his mouth. And that feeling is so foreign within the bounds of their relationship that it makes tears press at the back of his eyes. 

Youssef raises the mug to his mouth, buying himself some time, but his hands are shaking so badly that it spills onto his leg. Nathan doesn't notice. Not even when Youssef hisses in pain, the hot water scalding him even through his sweatpants. 

Youssef gets up from the couch, blinking back tears, going to the kitchen to dab at the stain with a wet cloth. 

It's not a big deal, really.

It's not like Youssef would have wanted Nathan to leap out of his chair and offer to help him. It’s not that Youssef is actually hurt, or in need of care. It’s not a big deal. It’s really not. 

Except for the fact that the Nathan that Youssef had met months before would never have been so oblivious as to not notice someone, even a total stranger, spill piping hot tea on themselves.

He's still in the kitchen, pressing ice wrapped in a tea towel to his burned skin, fighting back his emotions, when Nathan walks in.

"Can you believe this?" Nathan says, shoving his phone in front of Youssef's nose.

It's a picture of Quinn and Liam, a tall man with pale skin and red hair standing behind them, arms around their shoulders.

Youssef sighs. Greg had moved back in with Maya only a week or so ago. It turns out that Greg and Maya have been seeing each other for almost as long as Youssef and Nathan have, just in secret at first. It has only been in the last few weeks that they’ve tentatively decided to give being a family a shot. 

Youssef isn’t sure it’s a great idea, any more than Nathan is. But he does think Maya seems happy. And the boys seem happy. And it seems like she’s making this choice for herself, so Youssef wants to be happy for her.

Nathan does not see it this way. Though that’s hardly surprising, considering how traumatic it had been for him when Greg left Maya the first time. Youssef tries to hold onto this thought, the thought of Nathan being a kid and having to see his favorite person in the world go through something horrible, whenever Nathan is on one of his rants about Greg, and how Maya is ruining her own life, once again.

Nathan never brings his concerns, or his anger, to Maya. She knows he’s angry, but he keeps it civil in front of her and the boys, and won’t engage when she tries to talk to him about it. Which means that it’s Youssef alone, taking the brunt of his frustrations.

And Youssef wants to be there. Wants to be a good boyfriend who listens and empathizes and gives good advice. But he feels so stuck in the middle, it’s hard to know what to do. He has come to care for Maya and the boys, and the few times he’s met Greg, the older man has seemed kind and is clearly head over heels for his sons. But he also knows that Nathan carries a lot of anger and hurt that stems directly from Greg’s choices.

He usually sticks with listening and giving Nathan encouraging nods. He’ll make him breakfast, read to him, take him for runs, and distract him with strange existential questions. 

So now, when Nathan shows Youssef the picture of Greg and the boys, and he starts off on his whole spiel for the fifth time that week, Youssef feels like he just can't handle it.

He is a logical person. He knows, in his mind, that what's got Nathan in such a funk is the way he feels like his family is shifting in a way he doesn't agree with. It's probably got next to nothing to do with him. But in his heart, it feels that way. It feels like Nathan never wants to talk about Greg and Maya in an actually constructive way, just wants to get angry and rant and then ignore Youssef and act like he's being a worrywart for asking what's wrong.

It's making Youssef feel completely out of sorts. The hot and cold, the way he feels used in a way he can't really put his finger on, and the way their relationship feels strained in a way it never has, even when they were just friends. 

"Nathan," he says wearily, before Nathan can really work himself up.

Nathan stops, and looks at Youssef, blinking several times as if just realizing it's Youssef standing there. His eyes drop to Youssef’s leg, where he’s pressing the rapidly melting ice. He looks confused. 

"Can we not go here tonight?" Youssef says, and there's a note of pleading that creeps into his voice

 Nathan just stares at him. 

"I don't mean that I don't want to talk about this with you. I just..." Youssef sighs. "Unless you want to have a real conversation about how all of this is affecting you and your life and our relationship, then I–I just don't think it's helpful to go down the same spiral we've been going down for weeks."

Youssef is a little bit proud of himself, honestly. His voice is even, he doesn’t let any of his true sadness and anxiety slip out, and he thinks that what he’s saying made sense. He isn’t one to back down from a fight in his outer life, but sometimes hard conversations with people he loves makes him want to curl into a ball and never peek out again.

He squares his shoulders. Whatever happens, he's said it. The thing that has been on his mind for a week at least. And now they can have a real conversation, however that goes. 

Nathan takes a step back.

"What do you mean, affecting me? Affecting our relationship? Everything is fine, I'm just so fucking frustrated that Maya would do this."

 "Everything is not fine, Nate," Youssef says, and it’s a little sharper than he means. 

The room falls into an ear-splitting silence.

"What do you mean, 'everything isn't fine?'" Nathan says, his voice slow, deliberate. 

Youssef lets out a breath, shaking his head a little to clear it. How could Nathan not even know? He's usually annoyingly observant. But this is the biggest fucking thing that has happened since they started dating and he doesn't think it has affected them? Youssef knows he needs to be calm. All he wants to do is cry and lay out everything he's been thinking and yell like Nathan has been doing for the last week. But he knows that won't help.

"Nate," he says, making his voice gentle. "Did you even notice that I spilled half a mug of hot tea on myself five minutes ago?"

Nathan blinks. "I–I mean. I'm sorry. But I don't know what that has to do with this Maya thing."

Youssef huffs a laugh, unsure what he can say to make Nathan see.

"I don't know how to explain this right," he says.

"Well try," Nathan says, and his voice isn't harsh, exactly. But it's closer to it than Youssef has ever heard before.

That's when the tears prick Youssef's eyes, and he can't stop them

"Okay," he says, and knows before he even speaks that these will not be the measured, thoughtful words he's been trying for all night.

"Ever since Greg moved back in with Maya, it's like I'm with a completely different person. You're distant all the time, except these little flashes where I get Nathan back. Other than that, you're either ignoring me, like you were when I scalded myself, or using me as your personal sounding board to say whatever you need to say about your sister. But whenever I ask you what's going on, or if you want to talk about how all of this is weighing on you, you act like I don't know what I'm talking about. You're making me feel horrible, okay? And you're that’s making me feel like maybe there's something going wrong between us, like maybe I did something that you don't want to tell me about, even though I know that’s just my own fucked-up brain projecting. But I can’t move past it, because you won’t acknowledge it. Not to mention the fact that you're so mad at your sister, but you haven't talked to her either. You're just stuck in this little ball of rage and I am trying so hard to help you but you won't let me in, and I just–I don’t know what to do. To help you, or to fix it. I just don’t. And it’s killing me.” 

Nathan had opened his mouth several times during Youssef's speech, but he'd just kept on going, knowing that if he stopped, he'd lose his nerve. It’s more words than he's said in a row outside of teaching, maybe ever. And they leave him crying and a little dizzy, shoulders heaving. 

As Youssef furiously wipes at the tears on his face, he sees Nathan’s cheeks darken, his eyes drop into a squint. 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he says, and his voice is low and dangerous. Youssef doesn't care.

"I absolutely do," he says. "I love you, Nathan. I love you and I pay attention and I do my best to be the best partner for you because I love you, but this is something big, something huge, and I feel like you're hiding from me."

"Not everything is about you," Nathan says, the words exploding into the space between them. Youssef snaps his mouth shut, biting his tongue in the process. He tastes blood in his mouth. Swallows it.

"W-What?" Youssef whispers.

"God," Nathan says, "Seriously. I love you. But sometimes you get so caught up in your own stuff that you think things are about you when they just aren't"

"That's not fair," Youssef says, anger bubbling up in him. Sure, he’s been worried that Nathan is angry with him, but that has been a small part of it. More often, he’s worried about Nathan, worried about how Nathan is feeling, how he’s coping, how he’ll be able to move forward. Most of Youssef’s brain power has been taken up by Nathan, not himself. He knows he has shit to deal with on his own. Of course he does. His insecurities are, at this point, out in the open between them. But for Nathan to throw them in his face now, when Youssef has been slowly, so slowly opening himself up, hurts more than Youssef could have imagined. 

"You can't sit there and say that this confrontation isn't also about you," Nathan says, and his eyes are just a little bit mean.

 "I mean," Youssef says, "Yeah. Of course. Because I'm in this with you. So when things have gone weird between us, of course it reaches to me too. But I'm worried about you, Nate. You're acting so weird. You're closed off. And I just want you to talk to me."

"Fine," Nathan says. "You want me to talk to you?"

"That's all I've been asking for"

"Okay," Nathan says, taking a deep breath. "I'll talk. Yeah, Youssef. Things are pretty shit. My sister just let the guy who abandoned her with two newborns move back into her house. My sister, and her kids, who mean everything to me, are back under the same roof with someone that careless. How am I supposed to deal with that? By talking to you. and letting it all out as best I can. I'm just trying to make it through this. Maybe I'm not doing it so well. But I'm just fucking trying. So forgive me if I'm a little distracted, if I'm not so completely wrapped up in you anymore. Some things are more important."

Youssef feels like he's been slapped.

He steps back, forgetting that he's already too close to the sink, hitting his lower back on the counter.

His heart is pounding, and it flashes through his mind briefly that this could be the end of them.

Youssef says something back, he's not even really sure what. His mind is a haze of white noise. And then they’re going back and forth, voices raising, neither one of them really listening to the other, just needing to say what they need to say, to get it all out there. 

Youssef doesn’t know how long they go on like that, just that he feels completely drained by the time silence falls between them. They're both breathing raggedly, looking at each other with hard eyes. On the one hand, Youssef wants to apologize, to fall into Nathan's arms and beg him to forget he's said anything. But on the other, he's so fucking mad that he could scream. He knows that he hasn't been perfect. He knows he can be a bit selfish. But he also knows that he's at least a bit right here. He knows that if Nathan could put his emotions aside for a moment, he would be able to see it. So he doesn't apologize. He just stares at Nathan. This person that he loves so much. This person that he wants so desperately to keep.

"I think I should go," he says, his voice nearly a whisper. 

Nathan's face falls for a moment, glancing towards a few of the groceries that are still sitting out on the counter. But then his spine straightens and he nods, once.

"Probably so," he says.

Youssef nods, tears coming to his eyes again.

He walks out of the kitchen, gathering his coat, his pajamas, which he'd put in Nathan's room in preparation for their weekend together. His keys hang on their own hook by the doorway, and he remembers when Nathan sheepishly showed it to him, months ago now.

"You can hang your keys there," Nathan had said, pointing. "Just beside mine. So you don't keep losing them in the house."

Youssef had kissed him deeply, at a loss to describe what the small gesture meant to him. 

The memory hurts him now.

"Yous," Nathan says, from behind him.

Youssef turns.

"Drive safe, okay?" Nathan says.

"Yeah," Youssef says

And he leaves, not sure if he's just broken his own heart.

~

Youssef spends the weekend absolutely miserable. He sits in his bed, which isn’t as comfortable as Nathan’s, in his dark room, staring at the ceiling and wanting to call Nathan so badly it hurts. 

But he kind of has this feeling that he needs to let Nathan be for a little bit. So he holds himself back. Goes for really long runs that leave him exhausted, stays away from everyone, tells himself over and over not to call. Not to call.

Sunday afternoon falls into Sunday night, the air freezing and the sky dark, Youssef is sitting by his open window. The cold is uncomfortable, and Archie has long since abandoned him for the warmth of the kitchen, but for Youssef, it’s a welcome discomfort. And that’s when his phone rings. 

It takes some self-control not to dive for it.

He gets up slowly, taking it from his desk. Nathan's caller ID picture, from an afternoon walk by the lake a couple of months ago, is like a punch to the gut. 

“Hello?” he says, his voice shaky.

Hi," Nathan says. He sounds small, and that makes Youssef sad.

"Nathan," Youssef says, unable to keep the relief from his voice.

 "Are you home?"

"Yeah, I'm here"

"I'm," Nathan says. Pauses. "I'm outside."

"Oh," Youssef says, breath knocked out of him

"Um. I–I understand if you don't want to see me, but if you want to let me in, I'd like to talk. Promise to be on my best behavior," Nathan says in a rush. 

Youssef laughs, once, quietly.

 "Of course I want to see you," he says

"Yeah?" Nathan says

"Yeah," Youssef says. "I'll come down."

He shrugs on a coat and some shoes. He entertains the idea of bringing Nathan up to his room, but he's not sure how this will go, and he'd rather have the ability to storm away if he needs to.

He shuts the door to his apartment building behind him, resting one hand on the cold wood and taking a steadying breath before he turns around.

There, on the steps, sitting with his head in his hands, is Nathan.

"Nate," Youssef says, and Nathan startles.

Youssef sits beside him, careful to leave space between them, careful that their knees don't bump. He presses his hands together between his knees, hunching over for warmth. 

 It's quiet for a moment.

"Hi," Nathan says

"Hi," says Youssef.

He sneaks a glance at Nathan, who is sneaking a glance at him.

There's a moment, between them. A beat. A shock of understanding. Some kind of realignment. Because it’s just them. And they’re on the same side. Even when they aren’t. 

They both give a tentative smile.

 "I'm so sorry," Nathan says, just as Youssef is opening his mouth to say the same thing.

 "Me too," Youssef says

Nathan reaches for his hand, squeezing and turning so their bodies are two wedges, their knees pointing towards each other

 "You have nothing to be sorry for, honey," says Nathan.

 "I do," Youssef says. "You were right, I was selfish and I blindsided you and–"

 "No," Nathan says.

Youssef shuts up.

"The most unselfish thing you could have done was call me on my bullshit," Nathan says. "I mean, yeah. We both said things we shouldn't have and it got heated. But you never would have gone there if it weren’t for me. You care about me enough to not let my behavior slide, and that scared me. I didn’t want to think about the way I was acting, and you kept making it unavoidable. So even though it hurt to hear, it hurt because it was true.” 

Youssef swallows, studying the open expression on Nathan’s face. It looks so much like the Nathan he’s been missing that he almost smiles. 

"I'm sorry," he goes on, "That I said what I said about you. Because that was low. And I didn't mean it. I felt attacked and so I attacked you too."

"To be fair, I did just yell at you out of nowhere."

"But I deserved it."

"I was just so scared," Youssef says. "Scared I was losing you."

Nathan reaches for him, tentatively, and Youssef collapses into him, both of them melting into the relief of the touch.

"I talked to Maya," Nathan says, after a minute.

Youssef looks up, but all he can see is Nathan's jaw.

"Oh?" he says.

"I didn't want to," Nathan says, laughing a bit ruefully.

Youssef pushes himself away so he can see Nathan's face.

"She essentially used my weak spot for my nephews against me"

Youssef laughs.

"Quinn and Liam showed up to my apartment, and of course I'm going to let them in, but when I opened the door, it was her too."

"How did it go?" Youssef asks, rubbing his thumb over Nathan's hand.

"It was almost as terrible as our fight, at first," Nathan says. "But once we yelled at each other for a while, we both kind of broke down. We talked about a lot of shit. I told her everything that's been on my mind. We talked about how the shit with Greg, all those years ago, really affected me. And she understands, and is sorry, but we both know there’s nothing we can do to change it now. So I just need to face it, and work through it. Because she has.” 

“Yeah?” Youssef says. 

“Yeah. She’s been in therapy and all of that. And I didn’t even know, because I just wanted to avoid talking about Greg at all costs,” Nathan sighs. “I’ve been an idiot in a lot of ways.” 

“You were so young when it happened,” Youssef says.

“I know. But I’m not now. And I promise I will start working on it,” Nathan says. Then, after a pause. “I also told Maya about you, and our fight, and she punched me and told me that I was an idiot."

"Well...."

“Shut up!" Nathan says. “I feel like I’m cooking a really nice apology here!”

"You are, darling,” Youssef says. “Do you feel better about everything now?” 

“Honestly?" Nathan says. "Yes and no. I feel better having talked to her. Better now being aware that I was a supreme fucking asshole. But I still hate that she's with him. And of course I was still scared that you weren't going to want to be with me anymore"

Youssef scoots closer on the step, his hand going to Nathan's cheek.

"I honestly don't think you could do anything that would make me not want to be with you."

“I'm so sorry, honey," Nathan says again.

And Youssef knows it's not completely over. There's still a lot to talk about. Still things to iron out. But those things will come, with the morning, with time. With them figuring out how to be with each other in this painfully real way.

For now, Youssef shakes his head, tugging Nathan in for a soft kiss

"Forgiven," he says. "Absolutely forgiven"

Nathan nods, and Youssef feels all the tension go out of his shoulders.

They sit there for a while, until they get too cold and Youssef invites Nathan up, where they lay on his bed, Archie at their feet, talking quietly until Nathan falls asleep with his head on Youssef's shoulder.

Chapter Text

Two times Nathan and Youssef didn’t shower together and two times they did.

1.

The first time it fully sinks in for Youssef that he is genuinely seeing and sleeping with someone like Nathan, with no end in sight, is about six weeks after they get home from Paris.

It's also the first time Nathan sees his flat.

Usually, they're always either out somewhere together, or at Nathan's. Youssef has seen absolutely no reason to invite Nathan into his shitty little apartment that always smells like weed and is constantly dirty, no matter what Youssef does to clean or brighten it. 

But it's a Saturday, and he'd invited Nathan on a run with him in the morning.

They'd been jogging for about a mile, bickering and doing little sprint races, when the sky opened, thunder cracking overhead.

For a minute, they stop in the middle of the trail, looking up at the sky and then back at each other. After a few moments, they’re both already soaked, and Youssef finds himself smiling at the way the water dripped off the tip of Nathan’s nose. 

"What should we do?" Nathan calls over the downpour. "My car is back at the end of the trail!"

Youssef thinks about saying they should just turn around, even though his flat is only two blocks or so away from this spot on the trail. But then there’s a flash of lightning, brilliant and too close for comfort, and he knows he has to swallow his embarrassment and bring Nathan back to his. 

He grabs Nathan's wrist, pulling him off the trail and through the thin copse of woods, up onto the road and past two cross streets, until they reach the shabby exterior of his flat. 

They step inside the lobby of his building, which is just a few mailboxes and a dingy lightbulb with no shade and a rusted cord hanging from it, brushing Nathan’s shoulder as they pass. 

"I have to warn you," Youssef says, shaking out his wet hair. "My roommates are complete slobs and they are literally always high. Also, I have a cat."

Nathan, who had been staring at him thoughtfully, now broke out into a brilliant smile.

"You have a cat? And I’m just now hearing about it? What's his name!"

"His name is Archimedes. He's very small and very fluffy and he usually doesn't like new people, so don't be offended. Also just, disregard the way the entire house looks, except for my bedroom, which you are allowed to regard–"

Nathan grabs his wrist, shaking his head.

"It's okay, Youssef," he says. "I understand. You don't have to be nervous, okay?"

Youssef smiles ruefully, then nods, leading the way up four flights of stairs to the small corner apartment.

"Your apartment number is 1666?"

“Fun, right?"

Nathan is shaking his head, laughing under his breath, as Youssef pushes the door open. He already feels tense.

It's not that his roommates don't know that he's gay. They do. And they don't care, necessarily. But they don't like to talk about it. Or be reminded of it. Or, really, be reminded that Youssef exists at all. He knows he could and should move, has thought about it countless times over the last three years, but there’s something so daunting about it that he almost always dismisses the thought before it can fully take root. 

Youssef's shoulders relax as he makes his way into the kitchen, and then the living room. The house is quiet. And now that he’s thinking about it, he's pretty sure his roommates had tickets to some musical festival this weekend.

"No one home?" Nathan asks, following tentatively behind Youssef.

"It appears not"

"You were right," Nathan says, looking around. "This does… not seem like you."

Youssef shakes his head, leading the way towards his bedroom. "I tried for months when I first moved in here. I cleaned and kept everything tidy. But it was almost more work than my full time job, so I eventually gave up."

He pushes open the door to his bedroom, the smallest of the three, but the only one with its own bathroom. Archie peeks his head out of the top of his tall cat tree, a compromise that Youssef had to make in exchange for leaving him shut up in his room all the time. He doesn’t trust his roommates, and Archie doesn’t like them anyway. His fluffy white cat scrutinizes them as they enter, and then gives a small meow.

"This is much more like you," Nathan says, grinning. The room is small, but neat as a pin. There's a bed with a grey duvet and matching pillows, a dresser, desk, and bookshelf, all neatly arranged and free of dust. Archie's tree and a bedside table with a lamp shaped like a globe finish the room out. Youssef tries to see it from Nathan's perspective. A little cold, maybe. Clean, small, only the barest hint of Youssef’s personal touch here and there.

"Oh my goodness," Nathan coos, walking towards Archie's head, which peeks out more as Nathan approaches. Youssef braces himself for the moment Archie will hiss, will run and hide under the bed, like he has with everyone else Youssef has ever brought home.

But he doesn't.

"How cute are you?" Nathan says, in that high pitched voice everyone uses for babies and cute animals. Archie's tail twitches in the air as he sniffs Nathan's outstretched hand, then Youssef hears the buzz of Archie purring as he pushes his head into Nathan's palm.

"He likes you," Youssef says, completely disbelieving.

"Everyone likes me," Nathan says, throwing a smile over his shoulder as Archie tries to climb onto his shoulders from on top of the cat tree.

Something about Nathan, standing in his running clothes and socks, dripping rainwater onto the carpet of Youssef's room, gently cradling Youssef's cat, is making Youssef’s cheeks ridiculously warm. He ducks his head to catch his breath, willing any red splotches from his cheeks and neck. 

But he can’t avert his eyes for long, because, like a magnet, his eyes drag back to Nathan. Youssef takes in Nathan's lean calves, his broad shoulders, and his delicate artist's hands as they scratch Archie on the chin. His breath stutters. 

Nathan turns to him, setting Archie down on the bed. The cat wanders over to Youssef, who gives him scratch too.

"I'm sorry I'm dripping all over everything," Nathan says, kind of shy for the first time that day. Youssef immediately flushes at the soft tone of Nathan's voice. This man’s every move, every word has an effect on him.

"It's okay," Youssef says, gesturing at himself, soaking wet and streaked with mud. "Do you want to borrow a change of clothes? Or maybe rinse off? The bathroom is just through there."

Nathan glances at the door, then back at Youssef.

"A shower might be nice. I suddenly just got very cold," Nathan says, and there's something in his voice that makes Youssef think there's something he's missing here.

Then Youssef realizes what Nathan's questioning look means.

And he feels the heat rising in his cheeks again.

He immediately spins to the dresser, rifling through for anything he thinks might fit Nathan's lanky frame. When he turns around with slightly trembling hands, Nathan is there.

His eyes are soft, crinkled with a smile. An understanding. He reaches for the clothes, setting them on the bed and then raising Youssef's fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.

"Do you want to watch a movie after?" he asks, mercifully not mentioning what was just hanging in the air between them.

Youssef nods.

"About Time?" Nathan asks, his voice slightly teasing. He hadn't missed a chance to bring up the fact that Youssef's favorite movie was About Time since Youssef had let that slip a week prior.

“Honestly?" Youssef asks. Nathan has never seen it.

"Yes! I need to see what all the fuss is about," Nathan says, leaning down to kiss Youssef once, twice, before grabbing the clothes from the bed and going into the bathroom.

When he’s done, clean and dry and warm, smelling of Youssef's lemon soap, Youssef goes in after him, his stomach still roiling with nerves over what might have happened if he had been able to meet Nathan’s questioning look without fear. 

He rinses off quickly and changes into his fluffiest, cosiest clothes. Then, he slips into bed beside Nathan, burrowing his face into Nathan's chest and taking a big inhale

"See? This is way better than running," Nathan says. "I keep trying to tell you!"

Youssef swats at his chest and rolls away, taking his laptop from the desk and pulling up the movie. They spend the rest of the day snuggled up, with Archie sometimes wandering between them, wanting snuggles too, and it's warm and comfortable and good. Youssef spends more of the movie watching Nathan than watching the screen, and he feels in his gut for the first time that this is real, it is actually happening to him. He has this wonderful person who wants to spend time with him, and for the first time since Youssef started thinking about dating, he finally has someone that makes him excited. He finally was in a relationship that felt real. The thought made him scoot closer to Nathan, twining their hands together with a low hum of pleasure. 

2.

The second time, it’s Youssef who brings up the shower.

Because that moment, standing in his bedroom, has stuck with him. Weeks and weeks, he keeps wondering what would have happened if he would have pushed aside his fear and gone for it.

And for some reason, he can’t stop thinking about it. 

When it slips out, it's a Friday night. School has just started back for the fall term, and as the first few weeks always are, it has been a very very long week. All Youssef wants to do is be very drunk somewhere with the boy that he’s becoming more and more sure he’s in love with. Though he hasn’t said anything close to that aloud yet. 

"Let's go somewhere," he says, as Nathan gets into his car after school that day.

"Well hello to you too," Nathan says, laughing.

"Hi," Youssef says, accepting a kiss from Nathan across the dashboard.

"Long day?" Nathan says, and his voice is light and amused, his hand out the open window.

"Long week," Youssef says. "I just want to go somewhere, get very drunk, embarrass myself by dancing very poorly, and then go home with you"

"Hm," Nathan says, his mouth widening into the grin that still gives Youssef butterflies. "I think that can be arranged, darling"

"Thank God."

Which is how they ended up at a club hours later, with some people that Nathan knows from University, drinking way too much and dancing to early 2000's R&B songs. Nathan is impressed by how many of the words Youssef knows, and he wants to explain that it was his way of rebelling when he was younger, learning and loving these songs, but the room is spinning and too loud, so he just pulls Nathan closer, so their hips bump together, and kisses him, not caring who sees.

"Damn," Nathan says, when Youssef pulls away. Youssef doesn't so much hear Nathan say it as he does feel the word form against his own lips, and the soft exhalation after. 

He loves that, loves being able to surprise Nathan. He's usually so unflappable, leaving Youssef to be the one constantly flustered by Nathan's teasing and his desire. But sometimes, Youssef manages to turn the tables, and he always feels a rush from the power of that.

"Do you wanna leave?" he says, leaning to get close to Nathan's ear. He pulls away, searching Nathan's face. Nathan smiles, wicked, and nods furiously, coming very close to Youssef's lips without actually kissing him, then suddenly pulling away.

Youssef follows Nathan outside, where they call a cab and wait on the sidewalk, the tension building between them, Youssef swaying towards Nathan and then pulling away, wanting to wait until it’s just the two of them.

Finally, after an interminably long ride home, they're walking up to Nathan's apartment, and then Nathan is unlocking the door, but before he can even turn the knob, Youssef is behind him, kissing his neck, and Nathan is turning around, scrambling for the door handle completely blind, Youssef kissing him up against the door, the two of them falling into the entryway with breathless giggles when Nathan finally finds the handle.

They proceed to Nathan's bedroom like this, stopping every few feet to kiss against the wall, or almost knock over the side table as Nathan struggles to get his shoes off while Youssef is tugging at his shirt, unable to wait.

They stumble onto the bed, finally, already half-undressed, and Youssef whispers into Nathan's skin: "Did you want to shower with me, that time at my place when we got caught in the rain?"

Because, well. He's been thinking about it nonstop and… he just has to know.

Nathan stares at him, his face delighted and incredulous.

"Yeah," he says. "I did."

“Oh," Youssef says, ducking his head.

"But you seemed kind of freaked out, which is completely fine of course, and I didn't want to say anything to make that worse, so I just let it drop."

"I wanted to," Youssef says, his words slurring together slightly. "Just got scared."

Nathan's shoulders stiffen beneath him.

"You know you never have to be scared around me, right?" Nathan says. “We never have to do anything you don’t want to do. But we can also try anything, even if it’s awkward and terrible at first. All you have to do is tell me what you want.” 

Youssef nods, and Nathan relaxes.

"... Do you want to? Now?" Youssef says, biting his lip and unsure what answer he wants Nathan to give. It still scares him, but it feels more like anticipatory excitement rather than pure fear now. 

Nathan laughs, shaking his head.

"Nooooo! Too much effort, too much waiting. I need you right fucking now."

Youssef laughs at the whiny desperation in Nathan's voice, grinding their hips together.

“You don't want to wait?"

"Fuck, Farouk. I'm gonna kill you"

"Hmm," Youssef says, fingers finding their way slowly over Nathan's skin. "No. I don't think you are."

And then they aren't speaking anymore because Nathan's arms are around Youssef's neck, and even Youssef can't keep up the teasing anymore. They crash together in a kiss and the rest of the conversation fades away in the haze of teeth and tongues and the scrape of Nathan’s jaw against Youssef’s hip bones. 

3.

The third time isn't too long after that, because that drunken conversation has been on both of their minds since it happened.

But Youssef hasn’t been brave enough to bring it back up, and he hasn’t really seen an opening where it could happen naturally either. In fact, they have both been so busy after the weekend when they went out together that they've barely seen each other in weeks, other than the odd Saturday night spend curled up on Nathan’s couch together, almost too tired to do anything except order food and watch mindless television. 

"I have to see you this weekend," Nathan says to Youssef over the phone on a Wednesday night, nearly a month after the night at the club. It's past nine and Youssef is just getting home. He had a track meet and had to stay after to talk to some disgruntled parents, then he had to drive forty-five minutes home, stopping to pick up groceries because all he has in his flat are stale crisps and a rotting apple. He’s exhausted, and had called Nathan on the way home just because he misses him so much

"God, I know. This is the first weekend this whole month that I have nothing planned."

"Spend it with me, then," Nathan says, and where his voice had been light and teasing nearly the entire conversation, keeping Youssef awake and smiling on the drive home, now it’s more serious, more desperate.

"Yeah?" Youssef asks, dropping his keys on his desk and scooping Archie into his arms

"Yes,"

"The whole weekend?"

"Pack a bag, come over on Friday night and stay literally as long as you want"

"Okay," Youssef says. "That sounds really nice honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then," Nathan says. "It's a date"

And so on Friday evening, Nathan buzzes Youssef into the building, meeting him at the door with an enthusiastic kiss. Youssef drops his bags on the floor beside him and reaches up to hold Nathan's face, which is shadowed by stubble.

He runs his fingers over Nathan's cheeks, humming into the kiss.

Nathan pulls away, laughing. "What are you doing?" He asks.

Youssef continues the motion, feeling strangely overwhelmed at seeing him for the first time in two weeks.

"I like this," he says finally, and his voice is quieter than he means it to be. "You should have a beard more often"

Nathan laughs, pushing his face against Youssef's, his rough cheek against Youssef's smooth one. Youssef laughs and shoves him away

They spend the rest of the night making dinner, drinking wine, doing a jigsaw puzzle, and dancing around to Youssef's throwback playlist. Archie, who has come to stay at Nathan's for the weekend, watches them from on top of the bar, and Youssef feels more at home here, now, than he ever has at his flat.

Eventually, they find themselves dancing closer and closer, and then Nathan is the first to break. He scoops Youssef's body close to his and pulls him into a kiss which bends Youssef backwards, leaving him grasping at Nathan's shirt and trusting that this man will keep him from falling.

And Nathan does, bringing them back upright and lining their bodies up, Nathan a head taller, Youssef peering up into his eyes. They make their way to Nathan's room, where they lose themselves to the way that they feel when they're together, all bright golds and blissful, thoughtless touches, wrapped up in sensation and encouragement and very little else.

Youssef is laying on Nathan's bare chest afterwards, and they're giggling about the fact that it's only eight o'clock, and he's running his fingers over Nathan's rough jaw, which has left Youssef's face feeling pleasantly achy from kissing.

"I missed you," Nathan says quietly, as Youssef’s thumb glides over the line of his jaw.

Youssef nods as Nathan turns his head to press a kiss into Youssef's palm. "Two weeks was a long time," he says, hoping to conceal the amount of emotion under those words, but thinking that Nathan can probably hear it anyway. 

Youssef allows himself to sink into Nathan’s body, his limbs feeling pleasantly pliable and his brain turning to that stage of pleasant fuzziness just before sleep comes.

"I'm glad you're here this weekend," Nathan says.

"Yeah?" Youssef asks. Something about Nathan's voice tells Youssef that he means he's glad for something other than just his presence.

"I'm happy you trust me enough to stay here," Nathan says. "To bring Archie and all of that."

Youssef considers this for a moment. He does trust Nathan. Without hesitation. He's not sure he's ever thought about it in those concrete terms before, but he does. Sure, he likes Nathan, even maybe is starting to love him. He wants to be around him, is never unhappy when they’re spending time together. But trust feels like something more. Something earned and granted thoughtfully. Something they both have to choose, rather than something they can fall into as easily as that small bed back in Paris. He likes that, the feeling of having chosen, and chosen well. 

He props himself up, so Nathan can see his face, and he can take in Nathan's expression as well.

"I do," he says, smiling almost ruefully. "Not something I've ever been good at, but I trust you."

"I don't think you're as bad as you think you are," Nathan says, squeezing Youssef's sides and making him yelp, squirming away. "I'm gonna go shower. Don't fall asleep until I get back, please?"

"I'll try my best," Youssef says, knowing full well he won't be asleep until Nathan is in bed beside him.

Nathan gives him a swift kiss before rolling out of bed and padding towards the bathroom. Youssef hears the water turn on, and he lays on his back, already missing Nathan with a bodily ache, even though he's a room away.

The thing is, he does trust him.

He trusts him enough to be ridiculous and vulnerable and sad in front of him, without worrying about how Nathan will react. Because he always, always responds with love. Even when they've argued, even when Youssef is a taciturn mess who can’t arrange his thoughts into words. 

Almost before he can realize what he's doing, Youssef is pushing himself off the bed.

He's walking towards the bathroom door, knocking tentatively, before he can lose his nerve.

"Hm?" Nathan calls, his voice echoing.

"Can I come in?" Youssef asks, his voice wavering on the last word.

"Of course!"

Youssef pushes the door open, hands shaking a bit. He seems to always be shaking where Nathan is concerned. Nathan has a habit of catching Youssef's trembling hands in his and pressing them to his own chest to steady them.

He raises one of those hands towards the shower curtain, pushing it back and looking at Nathan, who looks back at him, face lighting into one of his true smiles.

"Oh hi," Nathan says.

"Hi," Youssef says. “Can I–?” 

Nathan reaches out a hand to Youssef, tugging him over the lip of the bath and into the shower itself, turning them so Youssef is under the stream of warm water, Nathan looking at him with an open, tender expression.

"Is this okay?" Youssef asks, eyes on Nathan's face, searching for any indication that it isn’t. The warm water rolls down his hair and back, the only sound between them the hiss of the showerhead. 

Nathan beams. "More than okay," he says.

And then he tugs Youssef towards him, the water sliding warm between them as Nathan kisses him, their bodies pressed together in a way they never have been before. And it really is unlike anything Youssef has ever experienced, hot and silly and vulnerable and wonderful, Nathan rubbing shampoo into his hair and kissing him against the cold tiled wall, hands sliding everywhere, Nathan bracing himself against the side of the tub as Youssef kneels on the warm porcelain. 

When they finish, they step onto the bathmat together, and Nathan throws a towel over Youssef's head, rubbing his hair and then sliding it down around his neck, using it to pull Youssef in for another kiss, this one less heat and more comfort, their mouths opening into it lazily.

"That was really hot," Nathan says, quiet, when they pull away. His mouth tugs into a smile. "And surprising."

Youssef blushes, pulling the towel off his neck and securing it around his waist. "It was good for you? I'm not sure what came over me," he says.

"Me either," Nathan says, fingers going to Youssef's chin. "but I liked it. It was better than good."

Youssef smiles into another kiss, the last one before they fall back into Nathan's bed, utterly spent, falling asleep nearly immediately, damp hair soaking into the pillows and their pinky fingers, wrinkled from the water, linked together. 

4.

It’s a Tuesday night the fourth time it happens, and this time it’s different. 

Youssef heads over to Nathan's after track, to surprise him with pizza and a couple of beers for each of them. He rings the bell.

Nathan's voice comes over the intercom a moment later. “Hello?” 

 "Hi! It's me. I come bearing gifts," Youssef says

"Only if you’re not lying about the gifts,” Nathan says, but his voice is light as he buzzes Youssef in. 

A moment later, Nathan opens the door with a wide smile, taking in Youssef in his track shorts and hoodie, with his face flushed and smiling from the cool night air. 

"Honey!" He says, taking the pizza. "This is a nice surprise."

"I'm sorry for just showing up,” Youssef says. “But I missed you like hell and I was driving home from track and found myself picking up this pizza and before I knew it I was on my way here"

"God, don't apologize! This is the highlight of my day."

Youssef follows Nathan into the kitchen, and Nathan chatters about his day, finding plates for the pizza and doing a startlingly good impression of the head of Higgs School. Youssef is laughing and accepting a slice of cheese when his phone rings. 

All day, Youssef had been fighting off a Bad Spell. He'd woken up panicky, stress-cleaned every inch of his room before school, and spent the majority of his day reminding himself to take deep, even breaths and not allow his thoughts to spiral far from the task at hand.

Which is part of the reason he’s at Nathan's. Because he doesn’t trust himself to be alone with his thoughts. And because he knows that if anything can calm him down, it’s being here. 

But his phone, when he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the lock screen, is lit up with his father's name, making his breathing quicken, despite all of his efforts to keep it even.

He looks at Nathan, and his boyfriend immediately falls silent.

"Do you have to?" Nathan asks, instinctively knowing, in a way Youssef loves him for, what the call will mean.

"He's called me three times today. Before, I had the excuse of being at school. But now..."

Nathan sighs, reaching out with both hands and giving Youssef's shoulders a squeeze.

"I'm right here, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen. If we need to go on the balcony and scream after, we totally can."

Youssef's breath hitches as he inhales, but he nods.

He walks into the living room and answers the call, which involves a lot of his father chastising him in Arabic because one of their family friends saw him out in town holding hands with Nathan, and the news has gotten back to everyone, and how could Youssef be so careless, doesn't he know how this news would hurt everyone?

"But," Youssef says, voice wavering, trying to be strong to his father for the first time in his life. Because for once, he has something to be strong about. He has someone to support his ankles while he tries to push himself upwards. "I'm really, really happy. Why should that have to hurt everyone?”

His father makes a dismissive noise.

"Happiness comes and it goes," he says. "What's forever is family, and duty, and what's right."

"This is what's right for me."

"You're too young to know that.”

"I'm thirty. I’m old enough to know this, at least. Will you ever be old enough to accept it?” 

His father is silent for a long moment.

"How you ended up so disrespectful, I'll never know. So disappointing. You could have been something great, Youssef. Instead you make yourself into nothing." He clicks his tongue, and then he hangs up.

Youssef feels his knees wobble. He sort of goes to a heap on the floor, his back against the front of the couch, his knees curled in front of him, his fingers locked around them. Eyes closed, eyes closed, if he can't see anything, maybe today just didn't happen.

The stress of the day, the stress of being alive, the stress of being himself in particular, all catches up to him, making his breath come in staccato bursts as his mind races itself into a frenzy.

"Honey? You okay-" Nathan says, walking into the room holding two plates, stopping dead when he sees Youssef on the ground. He immediately rushes to him, putting the plates on the coffee table and going to his knees in front of Youssef.

"Baby?" He says, and his voice comes to Youssef as if through water, distant and echoing. Youssef's ears are roaring and he blinks slowly at Nathan, whose eyes widen in fear.

"Listen to my voice, okay darling? Just listen to me. Nod if you can hear me."

Youssef forces himself to nod, keeping his eyes on Nathan's kind face. Nathan's kind, open face, that doesn't deserve to look so fearful.

"Okay, that's good darling. Now just breathe with me, okay? Breathe when I do."

They spend several long moments on the floor, breathing in and out slowly, slowly, Youssef's eyes never leaving Nathan, until his breathing isn't so hiccupy and his heart rate slows to something more normal.

"That's good, love. that's good," Nathan says, before reaching out and gathering Youssef’s body toward him, nearly picking him up and pulling him across his lap, Youssef's face pressed into Nathan's neck. Nathan holds him there, murmuring soft things, nonsense really, into his ear. Youssef is still shivering, still unable to speak, but he's calmer, a bit calmer.

After a while, Youssef feels in control enough to pull away, looking up at Nathan with, still shaking hard, with chattering teeth.

"Honey," Nathan says, running his fingers over Youssef's cheeks, still nothing but concern and care in the lines of his face. 

Youssef tries to clamp down on his shaking, clenching his jaw and taking another few deep breaths, but nothing works.

After a few minutes of this, Nathan is getting to his feet, pulling Youssef along with him, and leading him towards the bathroom. Youssef leans against the sink, head in his hands, as Nathan turns on the water and waits until it gets to the right temperature. Youssef allows Nathan to gently pull his sweaty t-shirt over his head, and he feels a spike of clarity in the midst of his panic, making way for gratitude, because Nathan doesn't just drop the shirt to the floor. He folds it neatly and sets it on the counter, the way he knows Youssef sometimes needs to do.

Nathan pulls his shirt over his head too, folding it in the same way, and then continues undressing them both, not saying anything. Not in a sexual way, not right then. No, his hands are gentle, and cautious, and his face is set in a worried mask that Youssef aches for. He hates being the one to put it there. 

Once their clothes are folded on the counter and the water is hot enough to obscure their reflections in the mirror, Nathan gingerly helps Youssef into the shower, guiding him until he’s under the water. Youssef closes his eyes, trying to feel nothing except the warmth and the press of Nathan's hands on his shoulders.

"I'm going to wash your hair, okay?" Nathan says. Youssef finds it in himself to nod, turning around so Nathan can scrub shampoo into his scalp, then leaning forward to let the suds wash away. He does this several times in a row, the feeling of repetition and of Nathan's hands digging into his hair slowly, slowly returning Youssef's brain to his body. Once he’s clean, all he can do is press himself to Nathan, arms twining around his waist. 

They just stand there, Nathan holding him as the warm water beats into Youssef's back, for a long time.

Eventually, Youssef feels clearheaded enough to pull away, letting Nathan wash his own hair and body, though he keeps one hand on Youssef at all times: his arm, his waist, his neck.

"You okay to get out?" Nathan says, gentle, once he’s done. Youssef nods.

It's an odd mirror of the last time they'd done this, stepping out onto the bathmat and ducking his head so Nathan could use the towel to dry his hair. But it's almost more intimate this time, the silence between them heavy with grief and understanding.

They retreat to the bedroom, Nathan bundling Youssef in warm clothes and tucking him into bed. Then, promising that he'd be right back, Nathan ducks into the hallway, returning a moment later with a steaming cup of tea. Youssef accepts it, propping himself against the wall as Nathan crawls into bed beside him. He settles himself and snakes his arm carefully around Youssef's shoulder.

Youssef sips the tea, which is black with only a dash of sugar, just the way he likes it, as he tries to match his breathing with the steady rhythm of Nathan’s. He’s halfway through the cup of tea before he manages to speak.

"Thank you," he says. It comes out a rasp.

He feels Nathan's surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Was that okay?” Nathan says, squeezing Youssef’s hand. “I didn't really know what to do. that just seemed right in the moment."

"It was,'' Youssef says, "just what I needed. I don’t know how you do that."

Youssef still feels unsteady, and exhausted, but better enough to talk. So there, leaning against Nathan, he tries his best to explain about the Bad Day, and why the call from his father really set him off. He's not really able to go into details about the conversation, feels his breath quickening every time he tries, but Nathan puts his hand on Youssef's chest and tells him that he understands, that he doesn't have to go into detail. Otherwise, Nathan just listens, and by the time he finishes, Youssef feels like a million pounds have been lifted off of his shoulders

"I'm sorry the pizza got cold," he says, weary, laying on the pillow facing Nathan. It's barely 7:30, and he's already exhausted.

Nathan laughs a little, then. "It's so far from being a big deal," he says. Then he goes to heat a couple of slices up, bringing them back into the bedroom as they curl together on the bed, watching random YouTube videos that Nathan chooses, their arms and hips and legs pressing together and entwining at intervals. Nathan does most of the talking, and Youssef is glad for it, the warm rumble of Nathan’s voice lulling him to sleep.

Chapter Text

After the fight, things feel more settled, almost without them even realizing it. 

It's like they've been focusing so much on the little things, day to day. First, it was the giddiness of getting together and Youssef settling into his sexuality and what it looks like for him to be with a man. Then it was meeting each other's friends and Youssef meeting Maya and getting wrapped up in realizing that they love each other. Then it was the hard bit: the stuff with Maya and Greg, the tension between them, the fight and the rough patch that surrounded it. Of course, there were still good days within the tension, but it had been hard for both of them.

But now, months later, as the end of the school year approaches, Nathan realizes how much things have evened out.

Nathan is talking to someone twice a month to try and deal with the lingering trauma of the situation with Maya and Greg and Youssef is continuing to see his therapist for his anxiety and his fraught relationship with his family. They’re figuring out how to be in a relationship that has grown past the honeymoon stage, but isn’t tense with little arguments every other day either. It's solid. Everything feels good and stable between them, and Nathan is realizing that, for the first time in a very long time, he’s able to open himself to the idea of a future with someone. And, in fact, that a future with Youssef is something he is starting to conceptualize as a concrete thing. Something he is allowed to plan for, and look forward to.

It's also springtime.

And even though they're both having some ups and downs at school, their emotions are holding steady. Their support of each other is as well. 

They've made it to the end of the term, through the incredible amount of marking they've both had to do, through the biggest track meet of the spring season for Youssef, and finally they have before them a weekend where nothing is planned, nothing is required of them, where they can just rest and be together.

Nathan picks Youssef up from school after track practice on Friday, because Youssef’s car has been in the shop. Youssef is overseeing the cool-down stretches for his team when Nathan pulls into the lot. He has the windows rolled down and settles in to wait for Youssef, his nose in his newest historical romance novel. 

Except, he’s only reading maybe a sentence at a time, because he keeps sneaking looks at Youssef over the top of the book. Youssef’s strong legs and the way his body looks when it’s moving. The way he encourages his runners, giving them his rare smiles. Nathan grins into his hand, pressing his fingers to his own lips. He’s so ridiculously in love with this man.

Then Youssef is packing his gym bag, slinging it and his teacher’s briefcase over his shoulder and making for Nathan’s car, and Nathan can see his smile soften, his eyes crinkling as he approaches. 

"Hi," he says, opening the back door and tossing his bags inside. When he settles into the passenger seat, he reaches for Nathan's hand, squeezes. Nathan grins at him, pulling Youssef’s hand to his mouth and kissing his knuckles. 

"I've missed you," Nathan says, shutting his book and throwing it over his shoulder, where it lands with a thunk against Youssef’s gym bag. Nathan touches Youssef’s cheek, laughing a little. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

Youssef nods, head flopping back onto the headrest, eyes fluttering shut.

"I know. The last two weeks have been murder. I want to do absolutely nothing for the next 48 hours except eat and make out."

"At the same time?"

"Preferably."

Nathan giggles and pushes Youssef's shoulder. "You're disgusting," he says. Youssef snorts, which Nathan has only ever heard him do when they’re alone together. 

"Just for you," Youssef says, turning and batting his stupidly long, dark eyelashes at Nathan.

"Yeah, yeah," Nathan says, biting his lip. "You ready?"

Youssef nods, and they're off. Past the town center, which is bursting with spring flowers, both of them leaning slightly out of their respective windows to let the warm breeze play over their faces, all the way back to Nathan's. It's unspoken, Nathan realizes. They haven't talked about what they want to do this weekend, but they both just assume that it'll be spent together at Nathan's. Youssef has his drawer in Nathan's bedroom, and there's a space for his toothbrush in the holder next to Nathan's own. It's not something they have to talk about, not anymore. Nathan likes the thought of that. He and Youssef, moving in sync with one another. Knowing without saying.

 "Okay," Nathan says, as they park the car and Youssef digs his bags out of the backseat. "I got stuff to make spaghetti tonight, or we could get Chinese takeaway and catch up on Drag Race."

Youssef groans, and Nathan thinks it’s in pleasure. Though he can’t be totally sure. He laughs.

"Takeaway and Rupaul, then?"

 "As much as I love your spaghetti, darling," Youssef says, shouldering his bags, "I have a great need for greasy noodles and reality TV tonight."

"That is completely understandable," Nathan says, leading the way into the building and up the stairs. He feels good, just then. He'd been telling his therapist earlier in the week that the times he feels best are 1. when he's hanging out with Quinn and Liam, and 2. when he has an uninterrupted stretch of time with Youssef laid out before him. His therapist, who is a middle-aged man with kind eyes, had smiled and said that Nathan was lucky to have someone he wanted to be with that badly.

And Nathan does. Want to be with Youssef that badly. Want it to be just the two of them, bickering and laughing and existing together in the quiet spaces of their lives.

He unlocks the door to his apartment, and Youssef follows him inside, dutifully taking his shoes off and arranging them neatly beside the door, putting his bags against the wall beside them, hanging his keys on his own hook.

Nathan sidles up behind him, threading his arms around Youssef's stomach, hugging him tightly. Nathan's chin resting on Youssef's shoulder, their cheeks pressed together. Nathan can feel Youssef smile, something he does with his whole body, as his hands come to grip Nathan's arms, where they're holding him captive.

"Hi," Nathan whispers, nuzzling into Youssef's neck. He smells like sweat and the spring air and underneath that, the lemon-scented soap that he always uses. Nathan kisses the side of his neck.

"Hi," Youssef says, his voice dry and amused.

"Missed you," Nathan mumbles into Youssef's warm skin, his hands tightening around Youssef's stomach. Youssef squirms until Nathan loosens his grip, then turns so they're facing each other.

 "I'm here now," Youssef says, and then Nathan is leaning towards him, gathering Youssef up, hands splayed on his back, kissing him slowly, shivering at the trickle of warmth that spreads from his chest as he does.

Youssef pulls away after a minute, just as Nathan's brain goes blissfully blank from the kissing. Nathan frowns, tries to pull his boyfriend back, but Youssef has always been quicker than him. He grins and dances backwards, shaking his head.

"None of that! I'm gross. I need to shower and then I need food before I can even think about anything other than kissing you," he says, voice teasing.

"Fine," Nathan says, then raises an eyebrow. "Unless... you want me to...?"

"No, Nate!" Youssef says, laughing.

"Your loss," Nathan says, shrugging.

"I'm sure I'll survive," Youssef says

Nathan turns towards the kitchen, and Youssef says "Maybe tomorrow though"

Nathan whips around, and Youssef is grabbing his bag and running, cackling, down the hallway before shutting himself in the bathroom. Nathan rolls his eyes and lets out a laugh. Ridiculous man.

He opens a bottle of red wine in the kitchen, opening the window above the sink and pouring two glasses. He pulls up the website for their favorite Chinese place, which is always cheap and piping hot and incredible, and orders two spring rolls (having learned months before that one order is not enough), Lo Mein with chicken for Youssef and pork fried rice for himself.

He loves this, he thinks, leaning against the counter and sipping his wine, waiting for Youssef to come back. Loves coming back to his flat together, loves Youssef being so at home there, loves having a mutual favorite takeaway place and knowing exactly what Youssef wants to eat when they order.

It feels comfortable. It feels good. It feels like something that Nathan could keep doing for a very long time.

The thought freezes the wine glass halfway to his lips.

It was something that, of course, had crossed his mind. You don't date someone for almost a year, going through some pretty rough days and sticking together, without thinking about the future. But it had always been in a very abstract way. Like, ‘yes, I want to stay with Youssef, and I will keep staying with Youssef for as long as he will let me.’ It was never ‘I want to stay with Youssef because he is the person that I want to be with for the rest of my life.’

But now, on this evening in April, having ordered the thing that Nathan knows is Youssef's favorite from their regular Chinese restaurant, that's the thought that hits him in the chest. Stupidly obvious, maybe, but as that feeling of surety settles over him, he realizes he’s been feeling this way for a long time. 

He'd be happy to keep ordering Youssef's takeaways for the rest of his life. To build up these routines that are known without having to explain. To do everything with Youssef: tease him and miss him and love him, specifically, in all his forms.

" Oh ," Nathan whispers, unable to keep all the wonder and love to himself. He sets his glass down and runs his hands over his face, feeling buoyant and terrified and above all, so settled, so purely happy .

He stands there, in a bit of a daze, until he hears Youssef's footsteps behind him.

He turns, smiling at Youssef, who is fresh faced, smelling like Nathan's shampoo, his cheeks flushed and his hair wet, dripping down his neck. He's wearing his favorite sweatpants, which at some point in time, had been Nathan's, and a Truham track shirt. Nathan's heart just melts. 

"Is this for me?" Youssef says, voice teasing, pointing to the second wineglass on the counter. "Or your mistress?"

"Shut up," Nathan says, grinning. He pushes the wineglass closer to Youssef, who takes it with a grateful smile.

"I ordered the food," Nathan says, and Youssef looks at him.

 "Did you get–"

"Two spring rolls and chicken Lo Mein," Nathan says. "Not my first rodeo."

 "You even remembered to get two!"

"Of course I did," Nathan says, setting his wine back on the counter, putting his hands on his hips. "I am a very good boyfriend."

Youssef throws his arms around Nathan's neck, pulling him in, kissing him sloppily, lots of tiny pecks all over his face, until Nathan collapses to the floor in a fit of laughter.

"Mercy! Mercy!" he says, gasping, as Youssef falls on top of him, still kissing his cheeks.

Youssef pulls away, his hands on either side of Nathan's face on the tiled floor of the kitchen. He looks down at Nathan, his cheeks red and his eyes squinted and his mouth fixed in a wide grin. He looks relaxed. He looks happy. Nathan pushes off the floor to catch him in a real kiss.

Youssef melts into this one, a humming noise in the back of his throat, and a thrill zips up Nathan's spine. There's nothing about kissing Youssef that gets old. It always feels at once familiar and new, and Youssef is always doing things to surprise Nathan, like, for instance, knocking him to the kitchen floor and kissing him senseless.

Slowly, Youssef pushes Nathan down off his elbows moving to kiss his neck, the underside of his jaw. Nathan doesn't know how long they've been there, just that they probably would have stayed there until things got really heated if the buzz of the door hadn't shocked them apart.

"That's dinner," Nathan gasps, breathless, heart racing. Youssef sits up, straddling Nathan's hips, hands running through his hair, his own eyes dazed.

 "Right," He says, standing, and pulling Nathan up after him. Youssef goes to buzz the delivery in, bringing the paper bag into the kitchen, where Nathan has just chugged his wine.

He takes a breath, steadying his heartbeat. Youssef smirks at him, but says nothing as he unloads the food.

 "Go get Drag Race queued up, darling," he says, touching Nathan's shoulder. "I'll bring the food."

Nathan nods, kissing Youssef once, hard. He takes the bottle of wine and the glasses into the living room, turning on the TV and flipping mindlessly through until he lands on the latest episode of drag race. He pauses it until Youssef comes in, balancing three plates in his arms. they settle in close together, Nathan's legs draped over Youssef's, sharing bites of food and falling into their routine of pretending like they're judges on the show.

When the episode ends, Youssef goes to wash the dishes, and Nathan lays on the couch, flipping to a rerun of Britain's Got Talent, because he doesn't really care what the hell is on TV because all he wants to do is return to the moment on the kitchen floor

When Youssef comes back, his lips stained slightly red from the wine and his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, he tries to push Nathan into a sitting position

"Budge up," he says, hands pressing on Nathan's legs. Nathan shakes his head, grinning.

"Nooo," he says, the world hazy and warm from the wine and how much he loves this man. "Come here."

"We both know what's going to happen if I do that," Youssef says.

“Sooo?"

 "So, it's only 7:30! And if I lay down there, I'm going to have absolutely no willpower whatsoever, and then you're going to fall asleep at like 8:45."

Nathan shakes his head "No, I promise I can stay awake."

"You're blatantly lying."

"You'll just have to keep me up," Nathan says, reaching for Youssef with a little whine.

"Okay, okay," Youssef says, unable to keep from laughing. "But just so you know, I am going into this knowing exactly what is going to happen and it's going to be your fault when I'm still awake at 2 am and you've been asleep for six hours already."

"Please shut up and come kiss me," Nathan says, exasperated. "If you don't come down here and kiss me right now I'm going to die."

“Okay, okay!” Youssef says, and that’s all Nathan needs to hear.

He seizes Youssef's hand and pulls him down, Youssef landing on the couch, half on top of, half beside Nathan, breath coming in a gasp of laughter, narrowly avoiding kneeing Nathan in the stomach.

Nathan's hands slide under Youssef's shirt, urging him up, so their mouths meet, except Youssef is still talking, still murmuring "You are impossible, I swear you're impossible" into Nathan's mouth.

Nathan pulls away.

"You are the only person I know who can keep arguing while kissing with another human," Nathan says, and then suddenly pushes himself up, so Youssef has no choice but to twist, falling back onto the sofa to avoid rolling onto the floor, now staring up at Nathan, who has one hand by Youssef's head on the cushions, and the other over Youssef's mouth

"No more talking, Farouk," says Nathan, and he can feel Youssef tremble under his fingers.

Then it's quiet, Youssef breathing raggedly as Nathan leans down, hovering over Youssef's mouth, but not quite kissing him, moving away when Youssef tries to chase him.

His hand has moved from Youssef's mouth to his neck, thumb tracing light circles there.

Youssef arcs his body, and then he's squirming and begging and Nathan smiles, enjoying the way he can so easily push Youssef to the edge.

Finally, without warning, he drops his mouth onto Youssef's, quieting the sounds his boyfriend is making, stilling Youssef's movements, both of them caught up in the pure pleasure of the kiss.

Youssef's hands scrabble at Nathan's shirt, tugging it up, roughly pulling it over Nathan's head.

"Please," he whispers.

"Please what?"

“You know what," Youssef says, voice desperate and thin. 

 Nathan grins into the next kiss.

Then he sits up, tugging Youssef up with him, pulling them down the hall. Some days, he's more than okay with a quick hookup on the couch. When it's a Saturday afternoon and things get out of hand before either of them think to stop it.

But tonight, he wants room. He wants to feel Youssef grow more desperate under his touch, wants to take his time and make sure Youssef is completely shattered. And as they push into the bedroom, Youssef pulling off his own shirt and pressing their chests together, falling back onto the bed and looking up at Nathan with his wide brown eyes, so trusting even in the heat of this moment, Nathan knows that's what Youssef wants too.

He crawls onto the bed after Youssef, kissing a trail up his chest and to his mouth, where he gives Youssef a series of tiny pecks as his hand rubs circles down Youssef's side, making him shiver.

"I love you," he whispers, his own heart racing at the sight of Youssef's quickening breath.

"Fuck, Nate," Youssef says. "I love you too"

"Mmm," Nathan says, nuzzling into the skin below Youssef's ear, wanting to tease him one last time before he gives in.

"Nate," Youssef says, "Touch me, goddamnit."

 Nathan laughs quietly before he does just that.

They take their time with each other, the buildup and breakdown of their pleasure slow and then fast, until they're both sweating, with trembling hands, their foreheads pressed together as Nathan falls to the bed beside Youssef, legs tangling together and Youssef's hand coming up to cup Nathan's cheek.

"You're about to fall asleep, aren't you?" Youssef says, after a long silence. Nathan laughs, the sound coming rough in his throat. His eyes are drooping, just like he promised they wouldn't.

"I love you," he says instead. "I love you and I'm going to love you for a very long time, I think."

Youssef's inhale is sharp.

"Is that okay with you?" Nathan whispers.

"More than," Youssef says. "Love me as long as you can."

"Might be forever," Nathan says, his voice slurring with exhaustion. He thinks he should feel self-conscious at the words, but they're just right, so he can't.

"Oh?" Youssef says, and Nathan can feel, vaguely, his heart start to pound under where Nathan's hand rests on Youssef's bare, broad chest.

"Mhm," Nathan says. "Been thinking about that a lot and I think it may just be true."

"Nate," Youssef says.

"Shhh," Nathan says. "Don't say anything back. Just know it's true. I am going to love you for a long, long time, Youssef Farouk."

And just as Nathan is nodding off, he thinks he hears Youssef whisper something that sounds like "me too.”

___

EIGHT MONTHS LATER 

There are few things that Nathan loves more than waking up in the morning and seeing Youssef on the pillow next to him.

There is something subtle that changes in Youssef when he’s asleep. His mouth relaxes, and the worried tilt of his eyes disappears, leaving him looking young and open in a way he almost never does when he’s awake. His hair falls over his forehead in soft waves, and sometimes, if he's showered right before he's gone to sleep, it gently curls, and it takes everything in Nathan not to reach over and wind the strands around his fingers.

On the mornings when Youssef doesn’t stay over, which have become more rare as the months have gone on, Nathan feels a pang of loss when he wakes up alone.

There’s just something better about starting his day off with Youssef, even after all these months. Even when it’s a school day and they’re both scrambling to get ready on time, or if Youssef is particularly grumpy and doesn’t want to do anything except stay in bed and snuggle close to Nathan's side. Even those days are better than the days that Nathan has to start out alone

But on this particular morning, Nathan isn’t missing Youssef. He’s pressed against his boyfriend’s back, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and something muskier, something inherently Youssef. 

It’s the first day of the winter holidays.

It has been a long term for both of them, Nathan working with a couple of students that he just couldn’t seem to get through to, and Youssef taking a lot onto his plate, struggling under the weight of it all. They've leaned on each other heavily through the past few months, and have made promises about taking it easy and enjoying the slower pace of the new year. And the best thing about it was that Nathan felt them growing, over the last months. Growing closer and stronger,

But for now, Nathan is staring at three uninterrupted weeks of vacation, and before he'd gone to sleep the night before, Youssef had mumbled his intentions to stay in bed as long as humanly possible and be bothered by no one except Nathan for the majority of the break.

Nathan had woken up earlier than he'd wanted to, and had rolled towards Youssef, trying to will himself back to sleep.

The weak winter light filters through one of the high windows in Nathan's bedroom, just bright enough to keep him awake. For a moment, the sunbeam makes it look like Youssef’s face is haloed in a ring of light. Nathan grins at the thought of telling Youssef that, the way Youssef's face will screw up in that grumpy way he has, the way he’ll swat at Nathan and say something sarcastic, but how he'll be blushing at the same time, the red tips of his ears giving away his pleasure.

Nathan presses his face into Youssef’s shoulder, fully awake now, smiling into the fabric of his shirt because sometimes, he loves this man next to him so much he feels like he could burst from it.

Nathan stays in bed for a long time. Dicking around on his phone, reading a little bit, and most of the time just kind of looking over at Youssef, until he catches himself and looks away. Finally, he pushes himself up and out of bed, pulling his warm robe around his shoulders, trying not to wake his boyfriend.

 "Wha-?" Youssef's voice spills from behind him, thick with sleep and confusion. "Wherey'goin?"

Nathan laughs, under his breath, and sits on the bed beside Youssef.

"I'm just going to get some coffee, honey. I didn't mean to wake you."

Youssef's brow creases, and Nathan can tell he’s half asleep already.

He touches Youssef's cheek, laying his palm against the smooth skin there, and Youssef turns, capturing Nathan's hand between his cheek and the pillow.

"You're mine," he whispers, in the slow, slurring voice that only happens when he drinks red wine or when he’s so tired that he can’t censor what he says.

Nathan's chest collapses every time Youssef says those words. 

Usually, it’s when things are heated and between them, Nathan's back pressed up against the wall as Youssef kisses him hard, teeth almost bared. That's when he'll often say it, with a growl in his voice, and Nathan shivers and nods. Underneath Nathan’s want, though, he’s always proud of Youssef for letting himself feel his own desire, a far cry from the way he'd tried to stifle it when they first started out.

But like this, when Youssef says those words in Nathan's bedroom as the sun rises, that's when the words settle over Nathan's shoulders like a warm blanket–a weight, but a comfortable one. One that’s asked for, and craved.

He slips his hand out of Youssef's grasp and kneels by the bed, fingers running through Youssef's hair, Youssef blinking sleepily at him, trying to stay awake.

"I am," he says. "Yours."

Youssef smiles, sleepy and unguarded. Nathan leans in to kiss him, just once, and then stands, pulling the blankets more securely around Youssef's shoulders. His boyfriend is already asleep again, breaths even and slow. Nathan lingers for a moment before grabbing his glasses off the side table and walking into the living room.

He putters around the kitchen for awhile, making coffee and putting some bread in a baking dish to soak, having a mind to make french toast for Youssef whenever he wakes up for real. He cleans the counters and stove, which are splattered with the remnants of their spaghetti last night. Their usual washing up routine had been interrupted because as Youssef was washing dishes, Nathan had put on Joni Mitchell and started singing, knowing full well that it is the particular thing that Youssef finds attractive. He'd barely made it through one verse of A Case of You before Youssef had him pinned to the counter, kissing him and mumbling about how much he hated him as Nathan laughed into his mouth.

As Nathan cleans now, he looks around his apartment and realizes, with a start, how much of Youssef has crept in, here and there, over the last year and a half.

There are the potholders, printed with Basquiat designs, that Youssef had given him for his birthday. The record player in the corner had come from Youssef's flat because he said his roommate hated it and asked him to get rid of it on a weekly basis. 

There’s a diffuser in the corner that is filled with rosewood essential oil, because once Nathan had told Youssef that the winter made his skin dry, which sent Youssef on a research bender, leading to the discovery that rosewood is supposed to help with dry skin, so he'd given Nathan the diffuser and also rosewood lotion for Christmas last year. There’s the throw blanket that Youssef had bought when they'd gone to Brighton on a weekend together, and instead of taking it to his own flat, had brought it here. There are a few pairs of Youssef's shoes by the door, some of his movies mixed in with Nathan's on the bookshelf near the TV, and his coat hanging on its own hook by the door.

And, well. It’s been half a thought in Nathan’s mind for a while. That he and Youssef should move in together. Youssef is already staying at his flat several nights a week anyway, and the only reason Nathan doesn’t ask him to stay over more is because Youssef has his cat to take care of at his own flat. But Nathan knows things are going well, knows that he’s serious about Youssef, and knows that the logical next step would be to start combining their lives even more.

But he has not, until this very moment, realized that he can just ask for it.

He has not realized how strong their relationship has grown. How, over the last few months, he has settled into a state of readiness for this next step. Has not realized how happy it makes him, seeing the little flashes of Youssef around his comfortable, familiar home. How those touches of Youssef’s personhood make it feel even more like a home than it did before. It sinks in, fully, then. How he wants to look forward to seeing Youssef every day when he gets home from work. How nice it would be, to make a space that feels like both of them, equally. Shared between them, but also belonging to each as much as the other. 

Nathan has never taken that step with anyone, has never had the desire to, even in his one other serious relationship years before. Then, they’d been too young to think about practicalities like moving in together. Now, it seems imperative. 

He knows, of course, that Youssef has never come close to this either. He’s not sure Youssef, who is so kind and loving to those that he allows in, has ever been kind enough to himself to hope for something like this. For a love that has a strong foundation, that can be built upon. 

Nathan leans against the counter, sipping his coffee and thinking about the few times he's been over to Youssef's flat. The small, dark rooms, the common spaces in a state of perpetual disrepair. The way those spaces contrast with Youssef’s room, which is neat and clean and filled with the warmest light he can muster. Nathan thinks about Youssef’s roommates, who are family friends and who, Nathan is sure, don’t really know Youssef, nor do they care to. 

The few times he’s been there, he’s noticed how Youssef retreats into himself upon opening the door, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast. Nathan compares that Youssef, who makes himself small, and unassuming, to the person he is when he’s at Nathan’s place. That Youssef is open, shoulders thrown back and feet planted wide, face split into laughter. Someone who slides down the hallway in his socked feet and dances around the kitchen to old Sinatra records as Nathan makes dinner. 

And that’s what settles the idea, completely, in Nathan’s eyes. It’s right, he thinks. Youssef should be flung-wide and comfortable all the time. He should know that he’s loved, he should get to hang his records on the walls. He should always sleep soundly, preferably right next to Nathan. 

So, he knows. It’s right. The timing, the commitment. It’s all just. Right. 

And once Nathan gets something in his mind, it’s hard, nearly impossible, for him to have patience with it.

What he wants is to wake Youssef up and ask him right then. But, because he knows his boyfriend, and can so clearly picture the scowl Youssef would give him if Nathan were to wake him up, he refrains. 

So, instead, he cleans. After scrubbing the counters and mopping the floor and fluffing the pillows and dusting every surface he could find, he finally, finally , hears Youssef stirring.

By the time his boyfriend comes into the living area, Nathan has a fresh pot of coffee brewing and a stack of French toast on the counter.

"Good afternoon," Nathan says, giving Youssef a peck on the cheek as he hands over Youssef's favorite mug filled with coffee, one sugar.

Youssef glares at him.

"It's 10:30," he says. "Not my fault you wake up at 6, like a lunatic"

"I've already had a full day while you slept!" Nathan says, turning back to the stove and trying to disguise the way his hands are shaking.

"You're crazy."

"That's why you love me."

Nathan hears the mug come to rest on the counter, and then Youssef's arms are around his waist, Youssef's cheek resting on his back. Nathan puts down his spatula and rests his hands on Youssef's arms, thumbs trailing over his warm, soft skin.

Youssef kisses his shoulder.

"I do love you. You're crazy, but I love you. Thank you for my breakfast"

"You are welcome," Nathan says, turning and gathering Youssef into a kiss, his fingertips resting on Youssef's cheeks.

Youssef kisses him back, rising slightly onto his toes, hands around Nathan's neck, cold as they always were. Nathan shivers, laughing into the kiss.

Youssef pulls away, grinning, and Nathan thinks again how open he looks here. Compared to the man he'd met the previous year, compared to the man Youssef sometimes still is, when he feels the need to protect himself.

With Nathan, though, Youssef has never been entirely closed off. Nathan can see that now. Even when he tried to be, back at the beginning, he could never quite manage it.

Youssef slides into his seat at the bar and eats his toast, humming a little to the music Nathan is playing quietly in the kitchen. Some old Bon Iver album.

"What do you want to do today?" Nathan asks, piling the last slice of toast onto his own plate and turning the burner off, moving the pan to the sink, where it sizzles as he runs water over it

"Absolutely fuck all" Youssef says, through a mouthful of toast.

Nathan laughs and sits beside him, nudging his shoulder.

"Okay, but within the parameters of fuck all? Wanna watch a movie, binge reality tv, play monopoly, take a walk, sleep, et cetera, et cetera?"

Youssef considers, sneaking a glance at Nathan and ducking his head when Nathan catches him.

They laugh, and for a moment it’s quiet, the kind of quiet that Nathan now associates with Youssef. Comfortable. A good, full quiet.

"How about Christmas movies?" Youssef says, intent on his breakfast.

 Nathan puts his fork down and turns fully to his boyfriend.

"You hate Christmas movies."

"I don't hate them! I just don't celebrate it! So they historically haven't meant very much to me," said Youssef, his ears pink.

Nathan raises an eyebrow and waits.

"I just know that you love them," Youssef mumbles. “And I liked getting you a gift last year. I like seeing how you celebrate.” 

Nathan laughs. "Just because I love them doesn't mean we have to spend the day watching them."

"Okay, but," Youssef says, sliding off the seat and walking over to his bag, which he'd dropped by the door the previous night. He pulls a carton out and turns back to Nathan, face fully flaming now. "I stopped by that fancy grocery store on the way over here last night and got that spiced apple cider that I know you love. And I thought you could show me some of your favorite ones and we could have a day in?"

Nathan just stares at Youssef, who is shifting from foot to foot. He is so good and thoughtful, so unlikely to give himself credit for either, so good at paying attention to Nathan and the things he loves, so willing to try anything so long as it makes Nathan happy.

He goes to him, wrapping his arms around Youssef and hugging him tightly, thoughts ringing with the question he wants to ask. He almost does, then, but at the last second, he swerves. 

"We'll watch two Christmas movies," he says, instead. "And then you'll pick a non-christmas one because I'm not going to hog the entire day, okay?"

"Deal," youssef says, one hand on Nathan's neck, tugging him down for a lingering kiss.

After several moments, Nathan pulls away, even though Youssef whines, and they finish their breakfast, talking quietly about the end of term and how happy they are to be done for a while. They clean up together, Youssef washing and Nathan drying, and then Youssef disappears into the bedroom, where he changes into some of Nathan's clothes, instead of the pair of his own pajamas that he'd started keeping there around April.

Nathan, sitting on the couch and trying to find out which streaming service has The Holiday , pauses, looking pointedly at Youssef’s outfit.

Youssef stares back defiantly.

"You know I like your sweatshirts better than mine," Youssef says. "It wouldn't be a truly cosy day unless I was wearing your clothes."

Nathan grins and reaches for him, pulling him onto his lap as Youssef protests through bursts of laughter.

“Why are you so fucking cute?" Nathan asks, as Youssef's arms come around his neck, Youssef positioned across his lap, their faces inches apart.

Nathan loves how his sweatshirt arms are always too long on Youssef, how his skin is so warm underneath the fabric when Nathan's fingers settle on his waist. Loves how Youssef pulls himself up and settles with his knees on either side of Nathan's hips, straddling him and pinning him into the back of the couch. He loves when Youssef takes charge like this, his face hovering above Nathan's so Nathan has to crane his neck, chasing the kiss. Loves and pretends to grumble about how Youssef moves his hips in just the right way to tease Nathan, but not to progress things any further. Loves how Youssef's tongue pushes into his mouth, how he groans when Nathan sucks on it, fingers digging into Nathan's shoulders. Loves how Youssef bites into his lower lip, tugging slightly, then kisses him once more before he pushes himself off, settling onto the couch beside him and leaving Nathan a riled, panting mess, while Youssef looks innocently at the TV.

"I hate you," Nathan grumbles. Youssef laughs, snuggling in close, laying his head on Nathan's shoulder and looking up with his huge brown eyes.

"You don't," Youssef says, smug. 

Nathan rolls his eyes, but puts an arm around Youssef as the movie starts, pulling him closer.

They're quiet, for the most part, during the movie, aside from the few times that Youssef has to have a bit of a crisis over how hot Jude Law is.

Then they move onto The Santa Clause, which Nathan maintains is one of the best Christmas movies ever made.

Then Nathan passes the remote to Youssef, who picks School of Rock, which they've both seen a hundred times, so Nathan isn't surprised when Youssef is pulling him in for a kiss again. Nathan sets his now cold mug of cider on the coffee table and allows himself to be pulled down, so he's half on top of Youssef, his back pressed into the back of the couch

Youssef kisses him, soft at first, then Nathan deepens it, and it's the kind of kissing that could go on forever without it moving into something else. That's one of the things that Nathan likes best about being with Youssef, in a physical way. They like to take their time with each other, and there's something gentle, something careful in the way they are together, even when they're quick and desperate.

Nathan doesn't know how much time has passed, but it feels like forever until he's swimming back into full consciousness, pulling away and blinking rapidly.

Youssef's head flops back on the cushion, and he takes a deep breath.

"You're my favorite person to do that with," he says, and his voice has that dazed quality that it had earlier, when he'd been half awake and whispering about how they belong to each other.

Nathan laughs and kisses Youssef's neck, teeth scraping over the skin there.

"I hope I'm the only person you're doing that with," he says. Youssef swats him

"You’re an idiot."

"Hey," Nathan says, before he can talk himself out of it. "I wanna ask you something"

Youssef shifts so he can see Nathan's face better. "Okay," he says, voice quiet.

He looks slightly worried, but Nathan reaches up, smoothing the crease between his brows.

 "I've just been thinking," Nathan says, suddenly worried himself. He's not sure what he'll do if Youssef says no. He doesn't think he will, but still, how awkward would that be? He wavers, then pushes through.

"You're here a lot. Here at my flat, I mean. And I was thinking, well. I love it when you're here. And it seems to me like it would be a good idea for you to be here even more often?"

 Youssef looks confused. "Like, stay over more?"

 Nathan laughs a little and shakes his head. "Sorry, I'm not doing this very well. I should just come out and ask, but I'm kind of nervous and I don't know what you're going to say and–"

Youssef's hand is on Nathan's face.

His face has softened now. Nathan thinks he knows what he's trying to say. Youssef smiles, his eyes lighting up from the inside.

"Go on, then," he says. "Ask me"

“Move in with me?"

Youssef looks at him for a long moment, his eyes impossibly bright, softened at bit at the edges, his mouth open just a little bit, like he can't believe his luck

"You'd want me to?"

Nathan pokes him, laughing. "God, Youssef, yes! I'm desperate for it. I want all your stuff to be here with mine, I want to get Archie some ridiculous cat tree so he can stop being shut up in your room all the time, I want you to be here in the mornings and after school, I want to wake up every day and see you next to me. I want to kiss you whenever I want and when I say 'let's go home,' I want that to be the same place for both of us"

Youssef has frozen somewhere in the middle of Nathan's words, and to his disbelief, Nathan can see tears forming at the edges of Youssef's eyes.

"Honey," Nathan says, using his thumb to wipe them away, kissing any that escape as Youssef pulls him into the biggest hug. "No crying! No crying."

 Youssef releases him, laughing and pushing his fingers across his eyelids

"I’m not," he whispers, lying. "I just… really fucking love you"

"Oh honey," Nathan says, "I love you too. I love you so much"

"I just never in a million years thought– you know. I could have this . And be so happy in it. And have someone as amazing as you wanting to share a home with me, of all people"

"You deserve all of it," Nathan says. Youssef closes his eyes for a long moment. Nathan waits.

"Yes," Youssef says. "Yes and like, right away"

"Right away?" Nathan says, completely delighted

"As soon as you'll have me"

 "So..... today"

Youssef laughs

"Okay," Nathan says. "Maybe not today. But soon. As soon as you can get it squared away."

"Over break, then. I'll find someone to take my space in my flat. It shouldn't be too hard"

"You're sure about this?" Nathan asks

"More sure than I've been about anything in my entire life"

Youssef kisses him, then, long and lingering and gentle, so gentle it makes Nathan squirm, pulling their bodies closer together, wanting more, more, infinitely more of this person in front of him. Knowing that now, he can have that. Can take Youssef by the handful, the armful, every day. 

It’ll still never be enough. But it’ll be a start.

Chapter Text

Two weeks has never felt like such a long time.

Youssef is sitting on the edge of the bed in his childhood room, head in his hands. He’s meant to be packing, as his train leaves early the next morning. But he can still hear the sounds of revelry coming from downstairs, and as soon as he'd sat down, a wave of exhaustion had come over him.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, relieved when he sees Nathan's name on the screen. He flops back on the bed, answering the call.

"I quite literally have never missed anything as much as I miss you right now," he says, in lieu of a greeting.

"Baby," Nathan's voice is warm and careful. Youssef wants to curl into it and never leave.

They'd been talking on the phone as much as they could over the last two weeks, at night and early in the morning, Youssef huddling in the small bed, covers over his head, voice a whisper to avoid being heard, or out in the village after his morning run, Nathan all sleepy as Youssef vents his frustrations to him.

But there’s nothing that can come close to Nathan's physical presence, his reassuring touches whenever Youssef is sad.

Not for the first time, Youssef feels a spike of longing so abrupt and painful, it knocks the wind out of him.

He wishes, even though he knows that wishing is pointless, that he could have brought Nathan to the wedding. That his family could be something different than it is, that they could spend time together and nothing would be strange about it. He would have loved nothing more than to hold Nathan's hand while Lena danced with her new husband, instead of uncomfortably warding off the advances of girls he’s known since childhood and the questions of his aunts.

"Yous?" Nathan's voice is stronger now, filled with concern and love. "Is everything okay?"

Youssef scrubs a hand over his face and stares at the ceiling.

"Yeah," he says. Because, really, it is. Everything with his family is odd and uncomfortable, but that’s not unusual. There have actually been surprisingly few moments this visit that have made Youssef want to completely fold in on himself. Just a comment from his father when he’d first arrived and the few times he'd overheard thinly-veiled homophobic comments from his extended family. All in all, it could have been much worse.

But that doesn’t stop him from counting down the seconds until he can go home, snuggle into Nathan's arms, and have his boyfriend kiss him senseless.

"Yeah," he says again, shaking his head. "It's alright. Nothing has happened. I just miss you so fucking much"

"Oh my love," Nathan says, and Youssef can hear the sound of Nathan pulling a mug from the cupboard, the whoosh of water being poured for a cup of tea. "I miss you too. The house has felt so empty. All Archie does is curl up on your sweaters and whine."

"That's not true," Youssef says, laughing. "I know he's perfectly fine. You're fully his favorite now"

 "No!" Nathan says, indignant. "Wait, okay, check your messages."

 Youssef grumbles and pulls the phone away from his ear, navigating to his messages with Nathan.

 Sure enough, there's a picture of Archie, curled up on his orange sweater, looking plaintive.

"See?" Nathan says, as Youssef puts the phone back to his ear. "He can't stand you being gone any more than I can"

"I can't wait to be back," Youssef says. "It's been hell, being away like this."

"Hell for me too! You do not have permission to leave me for this long again. From now on, we go on long trips together or not at all."

Youssef smiles, as he does every time Nathan mentions the future. "Deal," he says.

They're quiet for a moment, just breathing together. Youssef hears a particularly loud burst of laughter from downstairs and winces.

"Everything okay over there?" Nathan says, almost in a whisper.

"It's okay," Youssef whispers. "It's almost over."

"Yes!" Nathan says. "You'll be home so soon, and then we have a whole weekend to do nothing and then we'll be on holiday thinking about nothing except eating good food and sitting on the beach"

"Ugh," Youssef says, curling into a ball. "You're right."

"I usually am"

"Yeah, yeah"

"Have you packed yet?"

"...Not yet"

Nathan laughs. "Well, don't let me distract you. I just wanted to check in. Go pack and get some sleep and I'll be there to pick you up from the train station tomorrow"

Youssef groans, pushing himself off the bed. "Okay, okay."

"I love you," Nathan says. "I can't wait for you to get home."

"I can't wait to be home," Youssef says.

"Go and pack, darling. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," Youssef says. "I love you."

"I love you too"

They hang up, and Youssef sets about packing his clothes and toiletries. He throws them into his bag and then curls up under the covers. As he's scrolling through his phone, Nathan texts him.

"What do you want for your homecoming dinner tomorrow?"

Youssef rolls his eyes.

"You do not have to make me a special dinner!"

"I want to!! Because I love you! 💗

 "😑"

"You have to know how proud I am whenever you use an emoji"

"😑😑😑"

"Okay, just tell me: Pasta or Pizza?"

"Pizza"

Nathan sends back four rows of heart emojis, and Youssef can't help but smile, pressing the phone to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

It takes him a long time to fall asleep, between the noise coming from downstairs, his discomfort at staying in this room, and the stress of the last two weeks.

He finally drifts off around 4, and the 6 o'clock alarm comes much quicker than he wants it to. He drags himself out of bed and downstairs, searching his phone for any car that can come pick him up this early.

"Good morning," a voice says from behind him. Youssef jumps, turning to see his father sitting at the kitchen table, dressed for the day and nursing a cup of tea.

“Oh," Youssef says, surprised. "Morning."

"I'll drive you."

And without another word, his father is walking out the side door, with Youssef scrambling to follow.

The sun is just rising outside, and Youssef jogs to catch up to his father.

"You don't have to do that," he says. "I was just going to call a car."

"It's not far."

Youssef stands outside the car for just a moment, apprehension washing through him. It's been so long since he's been alone with his father, even for a time as short as the ride to the train station.

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. Just a few minutes in a car with his dad. He can do that. To get back to Nathan, he can do that.

He slides into the passenger seat, setting his bag at his feet.

"Thank you," he says.

His father nods, and they settle into silence.

"It has been good having you home," his father says, after a time. Youssef is so shocked that he can't help his sharp intake of air.

He doesn't say anything. His father goes on.

"It could be like this more often."

Youssef senses that this is not a full sentence.

"If?" Youssef says, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His father looks at him, and Youssef remembers a time when there was warmth in his face. He hasn't seen it in years.

"Carine is lovely, you know? She has never moved on from you."

Carine. The girl Youssef went on three dates with when they were eighteen. From his father, this is code for: "if you got back together with Carine. If you pretended to be straight. if you were straight. If we never mentioned the word gay again. Then everything would be fine between us."

And Youssef feels a little bit like he's going to throw up.

"I don't think it can be like this more often, then," he says, the words clipped, the anger so hot in his stomach that he wants to yell. He pushes it down. He knows his father has always meant well, in his own way. He knows there are so many things that his parents can never understand, and he has made his peace with that. He just wishes they would try, even a little. Their lack of effort is more devastating than their casual homophobia, and he's not quite sure why it still hurts so badly.

His father's jaw settles into a hard line. "Don't say we haven't given you every chance," he says, as they pull into the train station. Youssef scrambles out of the car, not able to remove himself fast enough.

"A conditional chance isn't a chance at all," he says, spitting the words. "Thank you for the ride."

He walks through the station in a haze of anger and disappointment, kicking himself for believing even just for a second that things would be different with his family. He spent so many years denying himself because he was scared of losing them–and then, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he lost them anyway. Even though they still speak, even though he is technically still welcome under their roof, he knows that they are gone from him in every way that matters. They don’t care to know him as he is–only as they wish he was. 

He shows his ticket and walks onto the train that will lead him back south, back to Nathan and the warmth that is the complete opposite of what his life was here. He feels himself thaw, just a little, at the thought of it. 

He settles into his seat on the train, head resting against the cool window, and his phone dings with a message.

It's a picture from Nathan. A selfie, of him in bed, his eyes sleepy and hair smooshed on one side, and Archie curled up on the pillow next to him

"We can't wait to see you!!!" the message says, and Youssef huffs a laugh, feeling some of the tension unravel in his shoulders.

He sends back a picture of his feet propped on the seat in front of him. "On my way," he types.

It's not a long ride, but it's made longer by Youssef's desperation to get back. He tries to read, to watch something on his phone, to listen to a podcast, but his brain can't focus on anything, so he settles for listening to the playlist Nathan made for him when they first moved in together and staring out the window, the countryside blurring by in swaths of green and grey.

Finally, the scenery begins to look familiar, and he’s restless with excitement. 

It seems ages, but finally, they're pulling into the station, the day bright and sunny outside the windows, and Youssef is scrambling into the cool air that smells like summer.

He pushes through the crowd of people walking towards their cars, and right there, leaning against a lamppost, is Nathan. Youssef sighs in relief, his shoulders releasing all of their residual tension. He stops a moment to look at Nathan before his boyfriend sees him, taking in the bright floral shirt, the warmth of his skin, and the way his glasses are slightly askew as he reads something on his phone.

Then Nathan turns, catching sight of Youssef, and his entire body lights up. His face breaks into a smile, and he straightens, already holding out his arms to receive Youssef in an all-encompassing hug.

Youssef has to stop himself from running to him, and he succeeds, mostly, but he jogs the last couple feet, letting his bag fall to the ground as he launches himself into Nathan's arms. Nathan catches him, immediately folding Youssef into his chest, kissing his head, his temple, leaning down to his cheeks as Youssef laughs, half-crying with relief.

Youssef pulls away, just slightly, a moment later, hands flat on Nathan's chest, going up on his tiptoes to kiss him fully on the mouth. Nathan stiffens in surprise, and Youssef knows it's because he’s often reluctant to kiss like this in public. It only lasts for a second, though, before he melts into the kiss, cupping Youssef's face and tugging him closer and closer.

"Baby," Nathan murmurs as they pull away, Nathan resting his forehead against Youssef's. "God, I missed you."

Youssef squeezes Nathan's arms. "You too. You too."

"Are you okay?" Nathan says, holding Youssef at arm's length. "You're shaking"

"I'm good," Youssef says, smiling up at Nathan. "I'm good now."

Nathan looks at him a moment longer, like he knows there's more to say, but then just pulls Youssef in for another lingering hug. They stay there for a long moment, before Youssef pushes away, surreptitiously swiping at his eyes.

"Let's go home," he says. Nathan grins and leads him to the car, where they load up and Nathan has a to-go cup of coffee waiting for Youssef in the cup holder. Youssef nearly cries when he sees it, and that’s how he knows he needs to get a grip. 

They ride home with Nathan chattering away, Youssef sipping from the coffee cup and feeling more and more relaxed the closer they get to their flat.

When they get there, Youssef drops his bag beside the front door and walks to their bedroom, putting on one of Nathan's sweatshirts and scooping up Archie, tumbling them both onto the bed and letting out a longer sigh than he knew he could hold.

Nathan stands at the door, grinning at Youssef and their cat, who is squirming to get away from Youssef's grip.

"Come here, please" Youssef says, releasing Archie and holding out his arms to Nathan, grasping with his hands.

"What's in it for me?" Nathan says, teasing, leaning against the door frame in a way that should not be as attractive as it is

"Hmmm," Youssef says, poking out his bottom lip. "A thousand kisses?"

"A million," Nathan counters

"Half a million"

"Deal"

And then Nathan is on the bed, propped over Youssef, their mouths coming together with familiarity and heat and love, Nathan murmuring into the kiss how much he missed Youssef, and Youssef putting his hands everywhere he can reach, re-memorizing the lines of Nathan's body.

"I love you," Nathan whispers, into the soft skin at Youssef's throat. "I love you. I love you."

And then Youssef is mortified because two tears slip out of the corner of his eye. Nathan's face, all concern and love, is immediately in Youssef's line of vision.

"What's wrong? Baby? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Youssef says, pulling Nathan in for a soft kiss. "I just love you and I missed you and.... god."

Nathan nudges Youssef's cheek with his nose, waiting for him to go on. And then Youssef is talking, about the way it feels to be home, the tiptoeing around and feeling out of place constantly, the comments he overheard, the way he was so uncomfortable at the wedding, the conversation with his father that morning. All of it comes pouring out.

"And then I get back here, and it's the complete opposite of all of that. You’re the complete opposite," he says, as Nathan wipes away more tears that have risen up. "You're so good and you love me so much, in just the right way. And I think it's just relief and how much I love you back that's making me emotional"

He laughs, trying to brush the emotion off.

Nathan is just staring at him, his fingers tracing softly over Youssef's face, up into his hair and back, his face a mix of sorrow, and love, and another nameless softness.

"I love you," he says. "I can't tell you in the right way how sorry I am that you've had to deal with that alone for the last two weeks. But I can tell you how much I love you right now, and how I've loved you more every day for the last two years."

"I know," Youssef says. "I know."

And then they're kissing again, softer this time, more deliberate, slow and thorough and with the promise that they have time. Youssef grips Nathan tight to him, knowing that he's safe now. He's safe and loved and supported.

"I love you," he whispers. And his whole being rings with the truth of the words. 

Chapter Text

Youssef is just putting the last few things in his overnight bag when the phone rings. He answers it while he walks into the bathroom, moving Archie off the lip of the bathtub and sitting on it, rifling through the different kinds of soaps and bubble baths that Nathan has accumulated over the last three years.

“Hi,” he says, biting his lip to keep from smiling, to keep from losing this game before it’s even begun. 

“Jesus FUCK it’s cold,” Nathan says, and Youssef can hear the wind whipping past his phone speaker. 

“You were the one who decided to walk to work today,” Youssef says.

“Baaaabe,” Nathan says, a whine in his voice, and Youssef can’t help but smile this time. “I didn’t think it was actually going to snow!”

“You’re ridiculous. Do you want me to come and pick you up?”

There’s a long pause, and Youssef can just see Nathan, perpetually cold anyway, miserably stomping through what looks to be a real snowstorm, from what he can see outside the tiny bathroom window.

“No,” Nathan says, finally. “I’m already halfway there. Might as well keep going.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m sure, honey. I just wanted to call and complain and have you tell me it’s my own fault!”

Youssef rolls his eyes. 

“Be safe, okay? Call me if it gets worse.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” 

“Love you.” 

“Love you!” 

The combination of the last day of term before the holidays, plus the fact that there was a late meeting that Nathan had to stay for, and now the weather on top of it all–Youssef knows that his boyfriend will be grumpy when he gets home. The kind of grumpy that makes his brow furrow beneath his glasses, his full lips pouting prettily until Youssef cheers him up with a cup of tea and a kiss. 

Youssef knows that he just needs one thing to a make that grumpiness fade away. Nathan is nothing if not incredibly quick to let go of things: bad days, grudges, an argument. He’s the opposite of Youssef, in that way. And that’s part of the reason they work so well together. The other part is that they’re good at anticipating each other’s needs. Which is what Youssef is doing now.

Youssef turns the bathtub on, running the water until it’s piping hot, the steam curling up from the tub in lazy swirls. Just as Nathan likes. 

This flat, the first one they’d moved into together, almost a year ago now, is a lot of good things. 

It’s spacious, and even has a tiny garden, where they sat all summer, faces pushed into their respective books, noses burning and peeling from the relentless sun. It has a big kitchen, where they host friends regularly now, and lots of windows. There's also a guest bedroom, mostly now used by Nathan’s nephews, and a conservatory at the back, where, on golden afternoons, Nathan paints while Youssef grades exams, nothing but warm looks passing between them. The flat also has an enormous bathtub, which may or may not have been the final selling point. And which is coming in handy now. 

Youssef takes his time getting everything right, putting a small dissolving tablet in the water first that releases a lavender smell and turns the bathwater a light purple. Then, he dumps in a ton of bubble bath and follows that with a waterfall of Epsom salt, to ease Nathan’s aches and pains. 

Nathan hoards all of this nice bath stuff, gifts from his sister and aunts, but rarely ever uses them because he’s always waiting for a special occasion. Youssef thinks that finishing the fall term is as good a cause for celebration as any. Plus, they’ll be leaving tomorrow and won’t be back for another week, so they won’t get to spend a quiet night in their flat for a while.

When the bath is ready, Youssef folds his clothes neatly on the counter and slides in, dunking his head in the purple water and wiping bubbles out of his eyes. He sighs, feeling the tension bleed out of his muscles, and closes his eyes a moment, getting used to the hot water.

A moment later, he hears the door open.

“Yous?” Nathan calls, and then Youssef hears him greeting Archie, who always runs to welcome Nathan home. 

“I’m in here!” Youssef says, his voice echoing in the bathroom.

“God,” Nathan says, voice getting closer as he comes down the hall. “I’m so fucking happy to be done, for today and just in general, because–Ugh–today was just horrible. Everything was out to get me and all I wanted to do all day was come home and see you–” He trails off as he appears in the bathroom doorway, taking in Youssef and the bathtub.

“What is this?” He says, the corners of his lips twitching.

“Just thought you could use a little relaxation?” Youssef says, feeling a stab of self-consciousness. Sometimes, even after almost four years of dating, he still gets those sometimes, a product of the extreme repression of his first 24 years. He still has moments where he wonders if he’s gone too far, or if he isn’t doing the whole Boyfriend thing right. 

Nathan kneels beside the tub, reaching over to Youssef, getting bubbles on the elbows of his sweater. He holds Youssef’s face in his hands for a long moment, his eyes crinkling in the kind of smile that doesn’t have to reach his mouth to be real.

“God, I love you,” he says, and then kisses Youssef once. Then, he straightens, slipping out of the sweater and slacks he’d worn to school and stepping into the tub. He sighs with delight as he lowers himself into the hot water. 

Youssef pulls his knees to his chest, giving Nathan room. It isn’t like they haven’t ever done this before. They’ve showered together a lot, for different reasons, and a couple of times have wound up in the bath together either before or after. There have also been a few times when Youssef has been sick and Nathan insisted that the hot water would help. (It always does, but maybe that’s just that Youssef feels better, always, when Nathan is taking care of him.) 

So it’s not that this is new , per se. It’s just always something that feels deeply intimate, in a way Youssef can’t fully explain. Like, the intimacy of showering together, lowering his head so Nathan can rub shampoo into his scalp and trusting the gentleness of his touch, mixed with how settled he feels when they’re laying in bed together. This is some kind of holy combination of both. 

Once Nathan settles, he faces Youssef for a second, the tip of his nose still red from the cold outside. Then, in one movement, he pushes himself forward, disturbing the bubbles and sloshing water out onto the tiled floor. Youssef straightens his legs and holds very still as Nathan settles beside him. The tub is just big enough for them to sit side by side, turned very slightly towards the other. Nathan puts his head on Youssef’s shoulder and pushes his cold nose into Youssef’s neck, making him giggle and squirm. Youssef’s arms encircle Nathan’s waist, pulling them close together, the warmth from the water and their closeness returning Nathan’s skin to its usual temperature.

When they pull away, Nathan curls back into Youssef, their legs tangled together in the water. 

“How’d you know I needed this?” Nathan says, his fingers tracing patterns on Youssef’s bare chest. Despite the heat in the room, Youssef shivers. He runs his fingers up Nathan’s neck and scratches the place where his hair meets his neck. Nathan leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“Because I am a very good boyfriend,” Youssef says, and yelps when Nathan pinches him.

They sit in silence for a minute, and Nathan presses a kiss to Youssef’s jaw.

“I just… know you,” Youssef says, feeling a blush crawl up his neck. “And wanted you to feel better.” 

Nathan’s fingers rise to gently trail over Youssef’s jaw, turning his head, at the slightest touch, towards Nathan. He rests their foreheads together. The steam is still rising from the bath around them and the snow is falling outside and their limbs are ever-more tangled and there’s sweat now beading in the crooks of their elbows. They breathe in and out together, and Nathan’s shoulders droop, letting go of the tension he holds there. They breathe in and out together, Youssef pushing their noses together and thinking about how it still feels like such a privilege to be beside Nathan in this way. They breathe in and out together, and neither one of them says anything for a long time, just resting together until the water is cold and they reluctantly push out of the tub. 

~

The next morning, Youssef wakes before Nathan. They’d gone to bed late the night before, having made dinner and committed themselves to watching the first Lord of the Rings movie after they climbed out of the bath. 

Now, Youssef props himself on one elbow and looks at his boyfriend, hand flung over his forehead and mouth slightly open in sleep. It isn’t often that he wakes up first, but it has been a long week, so he lets Nathan rest, pushing out of bed to feed Archie and drink his coffee in their little conservatory.

He thinks about the week ahead. Spending Christmas with Nathan’s entire family. It’ll be their third Christmas together, and Youssef thinks he knows pretty much what to expect. But in years past, they’d only gone up to Nathan’s grandparent’s house for a night. This time, it’ll be an entire six days, and Youssef would be lying if he said he isn’t a little nervous about it. 

He’d done what he could to prepare, collecting little gifts for Nathan, for Maya and the boys, and for Nathan’s parents, grandparents, and aunts–all of whom have loved Youssef well over the last few years. And he knows that Nathan’s family doesn’t really care how they show up, just that they do.

But there’s still that indefinable something that is going to make Youssef nervous until they get there. The idea that he’s a gay man who grew up in a Muslim household, joining Nathan’s family Christmas as the long-term, live-in boyfriend. As in, probably not going anywhere anytime soon. And though he knows that Nathan’s family likes him, there’s something inside him that feels like the rug could be pulled out from under him at any moment. He’s still not one-hundred percent sure he can trust this as something permanent. 

And it’s at this point that he knows this line of thought isn’t helpful. This is courtesy of the many therapy sessions over the last few years where he’s talked about his insecurities in relationships, both platonic and romantic. It’s because of this, all the work he’s done and all the times Nathan has held him as he spiraled, that he knows he needs to make himself get up. Moving around helps distract his mind. So, he goes back into the kitchen, pouring another cup of coffee for himself, then one for Nathan. He wraps his hands around the warm ceramic of the mugs and goes back into their bedroom. .

Nathan is just blinking awake when Youssef sits on the edge of the bed. He smiles, bleary, when he sees Youssef. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Youssef says, voice soft. Nathan has a crease on his cheek from the pillowcase, and his eyes are still drooping with exhaustion. Nathan yawns, pushing himself into a sitting position and taking the cup of coffee with a grateful moan. 

“Morning,’” Nathan says, rubbing his eyes and taking a sip. “Love of my life who brings me the best coffee ever.”

Youssef laughs, settling beside him, against the headboard, their shoulders touching. 

“Tell me,” Nathan says, after a few moments of silence.

“Tell you what?” 

“What you’re thinking about so loud over there.” 

Youssef ducks his head, setting his nearly-empty cup on the bedside table. He turns towards Nathan. 

“Just thinking about today. About Christmas. All that.” 

Nathan’s forehead creases. 

“You’re nervous? You’ve been around my family a hundred times! You know they love you!” 

“No, it’s not that. Not really. Just… this will be the first time I’m there for everything. And I don’t want them to think I’m intruding.” 

Nathan rolls his eyes, looking fondly exasperated, and sets his own coffee down. He takes Youssef’s chin in his fingers, holding tight. 

“Look at me when I say this, okay?” he says. Youssef nods–he couldn’t look away if he tried. “They want you there. They love you. They know you’re going to be my husband one day, and even if that wasn’t true, I think they’d choose to keep you over me anyway. It’s not an imposition. You’re part of us now. Okay?”

Youssef takes a very deep breath. Then another one. He doesn’t take his eyes off Nathan, and after several beats, and several breaths, he feels the knot in his gut loosen, just a little. 

“Okay,” he says, smiling just a little. Nathan grins back, looking very awake now. He runs his hands through Youssef’s hair, which is longer now than it has ever been, almost brushing his shoulders. 

“Come here,” Nathan says, hands going to the collar of Youssef’s sweatshirt, tugging him in. Youssef allows himself to be tugged, going onto his knees until he’s straddling Nathan’s hips, hands on Nathan’s shoulders, breath mingled with Nathan’s.

“Hi,” Youssef says.

“You’re very hot, do you know this? Even when you’re unnecessarily second guessing yourself.” 

“Hey!”

“I said you’re *still* hot!”

“Please shut up.” 

And then Nathan is kissing him, and really, there has never been a time when everything doesn’t fall away when Nathan kisses him. Nathan kisses with his entire self, wholly focused in a way that makes Youssef’s spine tingle. The single-mindedness of Nathan’s kisses is something that Youssef still feels in every fiber of his being, even after all this time. 

Nathan’s hands make their way under the hem of Youssef’s sweatshirt, cold fingers tracing patterns over Youssef’s waist, and he gasps a little into Youssef’s mouth when Youssef bites gently into his lower lip. Youssef moves his hips experimentally, knowing just where he has to push, little by little, until Nathan growls into his mouth, rising up and flipping their bodies around, kissing Youssef into the pillow, hands wandering everywhere, making him forget to be worried.

~~

It’s been a great week, all around. Nathan had been right, of course, and his family has been nothing but amazing and welcoming the entire time. His grandparents are precious, always holding hands and smiling indulgently at their grand- and great-grandkids. Nathan’s mother is all warm curves and wide smiles, and sometimes she looks so much like her son that it knocks Youssef’s breath out of him. She teaches Youssef Christmas carols and shows him how to roll the gingerbread just right–so it’s strong enough to build with but not so heavy that the little edible houses fall down. 

Maya is great, of course, and the boys are just excited that Youssef is always willing to play outside with them, even when all of the other adults get too cold. They spend hours with a soccer ball in the nearby park, Youssef playing goalkeeper until the frost paints their eyelashes white. 

He’s having such a good time that he barely notices the days passing, and then all of a sudden, it’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve. He and Nathan are sitting in the kitchen, playing cards over steaming mugs of cider as the rest of the family hurries to get ready for church. Youssef had offered, multiple times, to go with them, assuring Nathan that they didn’t have to stay back for his sake. But Nathan had just kissed his knuckles, laughing and saying that he himself hadn’t been in years. 

“It’s not a big deal,” he’d said. “Not everyone goes every year, anyway. It’s more just another way to feel festive than anything else. And I think we’ve had plenty of that.” 

And Youssef had laughed because, at the time, the twins were wrapping him up in strands of popcorn and cranberries, making Youssef into a second Christmas tree. 

And that is how they find themselves in an empty house for the first time in almost a week, the sound of the closing door echoing around them as the whole family piles into three cars outside.  

He grins over his cards at Nathan. “So,” he says. “Shall we have our own Christmas dinner?” 

Nathan matches his smile, taking hold of their mugs of cider and refilling them from a simmering pot on the stove. Youssef sets the record player in the corner to Christmas Songs by Frank Sinatra, and "White Christmas" starts playing through the speakers. 

“I’ll be right back.” he says to Nathan, who looks at him quizzically, but before he can question it, Youssef is halfway to the guest room where they’ve been sleeping. He changes out of his comfy clothes, putting on dress pants and a white button up, throwing on a festive red knit jumper over that. In all the movies they’ve watched, not just this week, but every holiday season, everyone always looks nice when they have Christmas dinner. He checks his reflection anxiously in the mirror, just wanting to give Nathan something good tonight. 

Youssef walks back into the kitchen to see Nathan shoving half a sugar cookie into his mouth. Youssef clears his throat and Nathan turns, his entire being lighting up

"Oh my," he says, voice trailing off. He looks Youssef over and his eyes virtually disappear into his smile. "You're so handsome."

Youssef sheepishly pulls at the hem of his sweater.

"Merry Christmas," he says.

Then Nathan is reaching for him, pulling him into one of those kisses that is molten before it even begins, Nathan's arms fully around Youssef's neck, Youssef's body pressed to his as their lips meet, slow and deep, shivers all the way down Youssef's spine.

They pull away a moment later, panting.

"I love you," Nathan whispers, voice a bit wild, as he grasps Youssef's shoulders. "And I have missed doing that.” 

Youssef laughs, running his fingers over the shape of Nathan's mouth. They’ve barely done more than hold hands the whole time they’ve been here, as they’re never far from prying eyes and knowing smiles.

"I love you, too," he says, and it's just that simple sometimes. Nathan runs to the bedroom and comes back wearing a dark green jumper that makes him look so soft, so handsome, that Youssef’s knees actually feel weak. 

"Dance with me," he says, reaching for Youssef. 

"Absolutely not," Youssef says immediately, teasing and not teasing.

"Please?" Nathan says, and Youssef can't help but take his hand, Nathan's fingers closing over his own as he spins him in close, Nathan just the right height so that Youssef can tuck his head into the crook of his neck.

They spin around to O Tanenbaum and O Holy Night, the house quiet around them.

And it should be cheesy, and terrible, but instead it's just warm.

It's warm and safe and comfortable, and Nathan is holding Youssef so carefully, and Youssef is, at intervals, pressing kisses into the side of Nathan's neck, deciding that, even though he will never actively celebrate it himself, he loves Christmas when it means being around this man, and all the people who love him. All the people who love him and, therefore, love Youssef too. His chest swells, a feeling of belonging settling over him like fresh snow. It shouldn’t make sense. But it does. 

Nathan is singing under his breath, and Youssef doesn't really have any personal attachment to the songs, but he loves the way they sound on the record player, and he loves the way they sound coming from Nathan's voice, velvet-smooth and low. 

They stay there for a long time, Nathan in dark green and Youssef in red, their mugs of wine getting cold on the counter, spinning slower and slower until eventually they’re just standing there, swaying a little, holding each other.

It's only when Youssef’s stomach growls that they pull apart, moving to start on the dinner they’ve volunteered to prepare for everyone tonight. But Youssef holds that perfect moment close to his chest, even as the house fills with voices and hugs and gifts and laughter. 

He feels a startling clarity–this is where he belongs. 

Chapter Text

The moment he decided isn’t remarkable, really.

It’s something that Youssef isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to, but it’s mundane in the scheme of things. 

He wakes up earlier than Nathan, which, as always, is unusual. Youssef is far more likely to stay up late and wake up once Nathan had already accomplished half a day’s worth of chores and errands. 

But this particular morning, five years to the day after Nathan and Youssef had their first date, Youssef is up with the sunrise.

This anniversary isn’t something they’ve ever celebrated, isn’t something Youssef has ever even mentioned, really. He isn’t sure Nathan even realizes that it’s on this day, mid-June and balmy, that everything had begun for them. They usually count their anniversary as July 22, the first day they confirmed what they were to each other. But June 13 has stuck in Youssef’s mind all these years. He’s not sure he could forget it if he tried. 

This morning, he’s tired, but can’t fall back to sleep. Out of the window, the sky is just lightening to pinks and yellows, and as he stretches and looks at the time on his phone, he notices the date. He sets the phone down and turns over in bed, eyes settling on the man beside him. Five years since Nathan had taken him to science trivia, already knowing Youssef so well. Five years of falling hopelessly for this kind, wonderful, illuminating person. Five years of doing everything he can to love Nathan in the way he deserves.

Nathan’s brow is furrowed in sleep, and he looks, as always, much more vulnerable without his glasses. The freckles spattered over his cheeks give him an ever-boyish look, so that even though he’s three years older than Youssef, he’ll always look younger. Youssef reaches out, running his fingers as lightly as he can over Nathan’s cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, he loves in the world more than Nathan. After five years, he can say that with absolute certainty. He loves him in a way that is both all-encompassing and completely freeing. He loves him in a way that is so much bigger than himself, bigger than anything he can conceive. And that’s how he’d known, in the beginning, even when he’d been scared and reluctant to open himself up, that it was right. How he continues to know, every second of every day, that it’s right. 

And even now, after this long, he’s still not totally gotten used to waking up next to Nathan.

Of course, it’s not something that knocks him over the head every single morning. A lot of the time they have work, places to be and things to do. 

But on these slow mornings when neither of them needs to leave, on these mornings when Youssef can come to slowly, in Nathan’s arms, when he has the time to think about it, the time to bathe in the gentle touches of his partner, it strikes him anew. Every time. Even though he knows nearly everything he could possibly know about Nathan, every curve and line of his body, the sounds he makes in sleep, his darkest thoughts that make him ashamed and the silly romantic ones that make him flushed and embarrassed. Even though all of this is true, waking up slowly next to the truest love of his life is something Youssef can’t take for granted. Even if he tries. 

Nathan shifts in his sleep, snuggling closer to Youssef, making a small, sleepy sound. His hand seeks Youssef’s, squeezing the last two fingers on his left hand, including his pinky, where he wears a silver ring, a gift from his grandfather. His grandfather, who made him feel loved and understood in the too-short time they had together. It’s just a plain silver band, something his grandfather had brought to Britain when he was a young man, something given in love to Youssef. He had rarely taken it off since. 

Nathan squeezes this hand, rolling closer in sleep. 

Youssef is reminded of a time, from somewhere in their first year of living together, when Nathan was very ill. He had pneumonia and a chest infection, which came with headaches from the coughing, and for a week, he was too weak to get out of bed. Youssef had stayed with him all that time, coming straight from school with soups and more medicine and reading material and pastries from the local bakery. During that time, he’d often find Nathan asleep, curled around Archie or on his side on the couch, and when Youssef would tiptoe in, trying not to wake him, he would shift and reach out for Youssef, even before he was fully awake. It always made Youssef feel warm in a way he hadn’t had the words for, back then. 

Now, Nathan’s sleepy reaching gives him the same feeling, one he’s figured out the words for now. Love, longing, partnership, understanding. 

And in that, the tiny movement Nathan makes in his sleep, seeking Youssef out when he isn’t even aware he’s doing so, makes everything click.

He and Nathan have talked about getting married, of course. Youssef is pretty sure Nathan had been the first one to bring it up, about three years prior. They’d been watching some movie, or maybe it had been an episode of something, Youssef can’t quite remember, but it had to do with a wedding. Youssef had been tucked up under Nathan’s arm, full of something delicious that Nathan had made for dinner, warm and sleepy and feeling that low, contented level of happiness that came when he rested in Nathan’s arms. Nathan had casually said it.

“I don’t think I’d want cake at our wedding.” 

Youssef had taken a full thirty seconds to comprehend Nathan’s meaning. He pushed up on Nathan’s chest, searching his partner’s eyes for any hint of teasing. There was nothing except gentle earnestness, a hint of the perpetual smile that Youssef loved so much. He relaxed. 

“ Our wedding?” 

“No, my wedding to Ewan McGregor,” Nathan had said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, our wedding. Someday. You know.” 

“You want to get married?” Youssef had said, his voice quiet, his head spinning.

Very suddenly, Nathan looked worried, his face closing off in a way it never did. 

“I mean,” he’d said, flushing under his freckles. “Yes. I do. Someday. I wouldn’t still be in this relationship if I didn’t see it as long-term, you know?” 

Youssef had stayed quiet, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Do you … not? Want to get married? Because that’s okay. We can just stay together like this if you don’t want the whole Thing of a wedding. I don’t mind. I just want to be with you, however that looks.” 

“No, no,” Youssef said, casting about desperately for the right words to explain what he was feeling. Disbelief. Wonder. Adoration. “I do . I do. Someday.” 

“Yeah?” Nathan had said, still sheepish, still not meeting Youssef’s eyes. Youssef grasped for his hands, wanting to make him understand it was just delighted surprise, not reluctance, that was causing his silence. 

“Nate,” he’d said, and Nathan softened at his nickname. “ Yes. God, yes. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you already know I want to be with you as long as I possibly can, and of course I would love to stand across from you at our wedding one day.” 

Nathan smiled, ducking his head. Youssef went on, letting himself say things he had only ever thought before.

“Calling you my husband would be the best thing I could possibly imagine. Please don’t think I don’t want to marry you,” he said, and then laughed. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know it was something you were thinking of too.” 

“I mean, not like, all the time,” Nathan said, and Youssef laughed.

“Liar.”

Nathan shoved him playfully, grinning.

“But yeah,” he said, more serious. “It’s something I’ve definitely thought about. Definitely wanted. Someday, you know. When we’re both ready.” 

Youssef had gone molten at Nathan’s softness. He leaned forward, pushing their foreheads gently together. He sighed, rubbing their noses together, once, twice.

“I love you,” he said. 

And then Nathan had kissed him, and that had been that. Youssef can still remember that day, something so vivid about the surprise, and pleasure, he’d felt in hearing Nathan say those things to, and about, him. 

There have been other talks since then, serious ones and silly passing mentions. Talks about a timeline, about the things they want in a ceremony, who they’ll ask to stand with them at the front of a room full of people they love. But neither of them have taken the leap and proposed yet. Youssef knows that essentially, what they have is already like a marriage. Not much would change with a piece of paper and a couple of rings, but at the same time, he wants that piece of paper and those rings, wants something that will tie him to Nathan, that will twine their lives together in a permanent way. He wants the ability to be by Nathan’s side if anything unthinkable happens, he wants to be able to think of Nathan as his husband, and, if he’s honest, he really does want a whole night to celebrate the way he feels about this person. He just hasn’t thought about the “how” and the “when” of it. Not yet. 

Not until this morning. Not until Nathan’s body curves around him in sleep, seeking and protecting and loving, even when he’s lost to the world. Youssef feels as if he’s been electrocuted, hands tingling and gooseflesh rolling down his arms. 

He needs to ask this man to marry him. And he needs to do it soon. He needs Nathan’s patience, his gentleness, the way he loves with everything he has. He needs to hold Nathan’s calloused hands in his and slip a ring on his finger and symbolize the things he feels that can’t not ever be put into words. 

Nathan stirs under Youssef’s hands again, the pink of the sunrise falling across the planes of his face, his dark eyes fluttering open, the smile that’s reserved for only Youssef playing on his lips before he’s fully awake. 

“Morning,” Nathan says, words scratchy with the morning. The love in his voice is just as soft as it had been on the first day after Youssef moved in, softer even than it had been when things were breakable and new and Nathan was always careful and soft for fear of scaring Youssef away. It’s the kind of soft now that’s strong underneath, that has gone through hard months and fights and grief–loving each other through all of it. The kind of soft that is earned. 

Youssef closes his eyes briefly, feeling the smile on his face, feeling Nathan’s hands rise to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing gentle patterns against the perpetual dark circles under his eyes.

“Morning,” he whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to Nathan’s palm. 

“You’re up early,” Nathan says, arms snaking around Youssef and pulling him in, so their hips are flush, noses touching. Youssef leans forward, kissing Nathan soundly. Nathan makes a sound of surprise, but kisses Youssef back, his mouth falling open with a soft exhalation.

Youssef pulls away a moment later, leaving Nathan to take a deep breath at the loss. 

“Mmm,” Youssef says. “Dunno why. I slept so well last night. I guess my body just woke me up because it couldn’t wait any longer for kisses.” 

Nathan laughs, shaking his head, leaning in for another peck, and then a second. Youssef relishes the feeling, rolling his hips against Nathan’s and making him gasp into the kiss.

“Jesus,” Nathan whispers. “If I wasn’t awake before, I am now.” 

Youssef laughs, running his hands through Nathan’s hair as they breathe together, Nathan coming awake and Youssef all tied up inside. There’s so much he wants to say, but he isn’t sure this is the right moment. But then again, what is a right moment for something that is at once so big, and also just a technicality? 

He wriggles away from Nathan, ignoring his partner’s sounds of protest. His feet touch the cool ground as he stands, stretching the sleep from his limbs. He throws on one of Nathan’s sweatshirts (though it’s as good as his these days) and pads around to Nathan’s side of the bed. He leans down, bracing his hands on either side of Nathan’s face and kissing him, small little pecks all over his face, until Nathan is giggling and writhing.

“I’ll be back with coffee,” he says. Nathan nods, pulling him in for one more lingering kiss before releasing him. 

It’s nearly seven in the morning by then, and the flat is lit by the summer sun as Youssef walks into the kitchen. 

He pours hot water from the kettle into the French press, letting it brew as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Is he really going to give Nathan a cup of coffee and ask him to marry him? Just like that? With no ring and no concrete plans and nothing except the desperation rising in his chest? Desperation to ask, to get the words out. Youssef twists his hands together. 

Then he looks down.

And he knows what he can do. 

From the fridge, he pulls some fruit and pastries that he bought for the weekend. He warms the pastries and cuts the fruit into a bowl, arranging them with the French press and some mugs on a tray, carrying it back into the bedroom with trembling hands

Nathan is propped up against the pillows, squinting at his phone, when Youssef walks in. Youssef balances the tray in one hand and grabs Nathan’s glasses off the dresser with the other, handing them out to Nathan with a smile. Nathan takes them, catching Youssef’s free hand and kissing it. 

“Honey!’ he says, taking in the tray, the coffee, the pastries, and Youssef’s nervous energy. “What’s all this?”

Youssef sets the tray down beside Nathan and then perches on the edge of the bed, fidgeting, wanting to say…everything. But not quite knowing where to start. 

Nathan sits up further, reaching for Youssef’s thigh, a calming hand resting against Youssef’s skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice now. Youssef nods, patting Nathan’s hand.

“I’m good,” he says. “I’m good, I just. I need to say something. Ask you something. And I don’t quite know where to begin.” 

Nathan softens. “Take your time,” he says. 

“I love you,” Youssef says, because it seems as good a place to start as any. “I’m never, even after all this time, sure that I’ve really and truly been able to explain to you how much I love you. An enormous, ridiculous, impossible amount.” 

Nathan hums, pressing a kiss into Youssef’s hand. “I love you too.” 

“And I know that you know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Youssef goes on, barreling ahead before he loses his nerve. “You have, consistently over the last five years, made me better in every conceivable way. You made me realize what it is to be loved and accepted for who I am, you have brought me out of dark times, you have shown me how to love through difficulty and how to choose someone again and again. You are the warmest, kindest, most loving person I have ever met. Seeing you with Quinn and Liam, how kind you are to your sister, your family, has never stopped amazing me. Everything, everything about you, my love, feels like home to me. You are home to me. You’re beautiful and bright. The brightest light I’ve ever seen.” 

He pushes himself off the bed and onto one knee on the hardwood floor. 

Nathan’s face, already open, already amazed, crumples into tears.

Youssef slips his grandfather’s ring off of his finger, hands trembling so badly that he nearly drops it. Nathan turns towards Youssef, legs dangling over the side of the bed. 

Youssef looks up at him, tears springing to his eyes. He swipes them away. Nathan is crying openly now, one hand over his mouth and one on his chest, laughing through his tears. 

Youssef holds the ring out, resting his elbow on his knee. “I love you, Nathan Ajayi. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I don’t have any concrete plans, and all I have to offer is my grandad’s ring, but I would really, really love it if you wanted to marry me too.” 

For a moment, all Nathan can do is cry. He looks at Youssef in disbelief, then slides from the bed and onto his knees in front of Youssef, taking Youssef’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly, innocently. Youssef melts.

Nathan pulls away, brushing Youssef’s hair off his forehead and looking at him with an expression of wonder. 

“Is that a no?” Youssef teases. Nathan laughs, then reaches for the ring. Youssef slides it onto the ring finger of his left hand, admiring the way the silver stands out against the warmth of Nathan’s skin.

“Yes,” Nathan says, his voice hoarse, face still wet with tears. “Yes, of course. Of course I will.” 

He pulls Youssef in for another lingering kiss, right there on the floor, and Youssef pushes his thumbs onto Nathan’s cheeks to wipe his tears away. 

“I can’t believe you beat me to it,” Nathan whispers into the kiss.

“I didn’t plan it to be today,” Youssef admits, allowing Nathan to pull him back onto the bed. “I just woke up and started thinking about you and us and it seemed like I couldn’t go another day without saying it.” 

They curl around each other in bed, kissing and whispering, the tray moved to the floor and forgotten as they’re overwhelmed with the implications of Youssef’s question. Nathan twists onto his back and holds his hand out, turning it this way and that. 

“It’s weird to see this ring not on your hand,” he says.

“We can get something else when the time comes,” Youssef says. “Gold bands or whatever you want.” 

Nathan turns to him, eyes impossibly soft. 

“I kind of love wearing this one, though.” 

“You do?” 

Nathan nods, and Youssef is flooded with warmth.

“Then you can keep that one,” Youssef says. “It’s meant so much to me, but it means even more seeing it on you.” 

“I love you,” Nathan whispers, wiggling closer. “I can’t believe we’re going to get married. You’re going to be my husband.” 

“And you’ll be mine,” Youssef says.

Nathan pulls him in for a kiss that turns heated the moment their lips touch. There are a million things to talk about, of course, but they aren’t worried about them right then. All Youssef can do is focus on the way Nathan is kissing him, and the cool feeling of the ring against his face as Nathan holds him, desperately, closer and closer.