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“So,” Gemma says, once their mics are safely turned down and Ellie Goulding's voice is crooning softly throughout the studio. She looks at Nick expectantly, and he clutches his coffee closer to his chest. He's still got twenty minutes till his show starts and it's too early for this. He's never coming in early again.
“What's he like?” Gemma continues. “Like, actually? You can tell me, Grim. I can keep a secret.” Behind Nick, their intern, Louis, snorts. Gemma couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it.
Nick sighs. “He's cocky,” Nick says, “and short. And that's all you're getting from me.”
Gemma pouts. “Ugh, fine,” she says, fiddling with her headphones. “But this conversation isn't over, Grimshaw. You don't just go around with our friendly neighborhood superhero and expect me to not ask for details.”
“I don't go around with anyone!” Nick sputters, but Gemma's already slipped her headphones back over her head and started her last link.
Louis moves up behind Nick, leaning heavily onto the back of Nick's chair. “Contraband,” he says in his croaky morning voice, reaching over to tap at the top of Nick's coffee. Nick shushes him, looking around.
“I'm not here,” he says. “I'm outside the studio.”
Louis rolls his eyes. He's sloppy as he usually is at this time of the morning, t-shirt wrinkled and hair poking messily from under his beanie, glasses slightly askew. Nick reaches up to fix them and Louis smiles sleepily at him in response, then shoves some papers detailing what's happening on the show under his nose.
After they discuss the schedule for a bit, and Gemma's started her last string of songs, Louis yawns and slumps back over, chin on Nick's head. “Cocky, huh?” Louis says, chin digging into Nick's skull with every move.
“And short. A bit like you, actually,” Nick teases, grinning up at Louis and dislodging his chin. Louis snorts and pokes Nick in the side in retaliation before standing back up, stretching his arms over his head.
“Don't be ridiculous,” Louis says as he gathers up his paperwork and makes his way out the studio, snatching up Nick's empty coffee cup along the way. “I'm nothing like him.”
On the screen in the corner, Tina starts up her latest round of news. “In today's news, there has been another attempted robbery by criminal group The Bottlemen, but it was once again thwarted by the man people have dubbed the Superman, saving over twenty people including, once again, our very own Radio 1 DJ Nick Grimshaw –“
*
A few days later, while doing a bit of shopping, Nick looks up from where he’s texting Collette to see a car come flying through the air at him. And while Nick's sure he's not leading the most normal of lives, he knows his first thought in response shouldn't be “Fuck. Not again.”
He stands stupidly and watches the car come at him with his thumb still pressed to the smiley poo emoji, until something solid hits his side, knocking him into the air. He doesn't go down again.
“We've got to stop meeting like this,” Superman says, arms wrapped tightly around Nick's waist. Nick quickly wraps his arms and legs around him once he realizes that they are, in fact, flying.
“Believe me,” Nick says, staring down at the ground as it moves further and further away. “I'm not doing it on purpose.”
“Good,” Superman says, and drops Nick. Nick screeches, only to land heavily onto the roof of a nearby shop. “Because then that would mean you're an even bigger idiot than I imagined.”
Nick gapes up at him, floating proudly with his slicked back hair and his stupid cape and his pants on the outside of his clothes. Superman salutes him then, before looping back down to whatever is happening below.
“You don't even know me!” Nick yells angrily, scrambling up to lean over the side of the building to see what's happening below. He can't really tell, seeing as most everything seems to be on fire, but Superman seems to have things under control. Nick can hear the sound of distant sirens and crosses his arms. As far as he can tell, there's no way off of the roof of this building he's been dropped on.
“Hey, asshole! I'm stuck!” he calls over the side, and even over the sounds of mayhem happening Nick can hear Superman's laugh. He huffs, turning and sitting on the ground. He passes the time by thinking up insults and shouting them down.
“Oi! Where'd you get them terrible leggings?”
“Is one of your powers also having really, really greasy hair? Is your true weakness shampoo?”
“Is that hairstyle meant to make you more aerodynamic or what?”
Eventually, he runs out of things to say and just sits the battle out. “It's not like I had anything better to do tonight,” he shouts angrily, hoping Superman can hear him, before settling to wear out what's left of his phone battery playing Candy Crush. “On a god damn Friday night,” he mutters, swiping his thumb roughly across some red jelly beans.
He sits there and methodically destroys tiny digital candies and mumbling insults under his breath until a shadow passes over his head. “Took you long enough,” Nick huffs, shutting off his phone and glaring up at the man hovering over him.
Superman is floating just behind Nick's head, bent at the waist to peer down at the phone screen. “Hated that level,” he says cheekily, smiling down at Nick. “Took me ages to beat it.”
“So you're not amazing at everything ever?” Nick gasps, clutching his hand to his chest dramatically. “Looks like we're going to have to change your name, then.”
“The name wasn't my idea,” Superman says, doing a front flip in the air and landing in a crouch on the ground in front of Nick. “You of all people should know.”
When they first met, it was at some fancy event where Nick had been hired to DJ. It was pretty boring, as events went. It also happened to be on fire.
“Fuck,” Nick had said, coughing. He was stuck under some giant, ugly art piece that had sat near the bar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
All around him, people were running towards the nearest exit, tripping in their expensive heels and tight pants, but no one stopped to pull him free. “I'm not being paid enough for this,” he yelled at them, trying to wrench his leg from under the giant, phallic sculpture. He took a deep breath, ready to yell again for help, only to choke in the smoky room.
He fell back against the hard floor, chest heaving. “Of course this is how I die,” he wheezed, screwing his eyes shut as the heat became nearly unbearable. “Slightly pissed and under a giant prick.”
“Mate, that's just sad,” someone said from above him, and he looked up to see the most ridiculously dressed person he'd ever met, and he was Nick Grimshaw.
“Am I already dead?” Nick asked, before coughing some more.
“No, but if you don't shut up you will be soon,” the man said, and then, to Nick's wonder, bent down to try and lift the statue.
“I think you'd be better off with some help,” Nick said, but the man just ignored him and then, to Nick's wonder, lifted the statue off Nick like it was nothing. “Oh.”
“Come on then,” the man said, hoisting Nick up and pulling Nick's arm over his shoulder. He was much shorter than Nick, but had no problem holding Nick's weight.
It was then that part of the ceiling collapsed, blocking their exit. “Oh god,” Nick said, wheezing still. “I'm gonna die. We're gonna die.”
“Have you quite finished?” the man huffed, before turning them around, waving Nick around like a rag doll. Nick gasped at the pain from his leg at the movement, and then found that his lungs had decided enough was enough and went on strike. “Are you alright?” the man asked, pausing in his attempts to find them an exit to look at Nick.
Nick shook his head, struggling for breath. “As–Asthma,” Nick managed to say, and the man's eyes widened.
“Right,” he said then, and then turned towards one of the walls. “Fuck it.” He scrunched his face in concentration, Nick staring in disbelief.
“What do you think you're doing?” is what Nick would have said had he the ability to breathe. The man seemed to somehow understand him anyway and glared over at him.
“Shut up,” he said, “I haven't gotten this bit down just yet.” And then he turned back to the wall and his eyes began to glow.
Holy shit, Nick thought as fucking lasers shot out of the man's eyes and blew apart the wall. He was still gaping when the man looped an arm around Nick's waist and pulled him firmly into his side. “Hang on,” the man said, before lifting them up and flying them out of the hole he'd made.
Once they'd reached the ground, the man stayed just long enough to hand Nick over to some paramedics, who instantly went about making Nick's lungs work again, before flying off into the night. Instantly, Nick was surrounded by reporters and photographers of all kinds, shoving microphones in his face and yelling questions despite the oxygen mask on his face.
“I don't know,” Nick said, shell-shocked, as the paramedics tried to shoo the reporters away. Staring wide-eyed in the direction the man had flown off to, Nick said “He was like, he was like some sort of super man.”
After that, Superman was all over social media and the news. Thinking about it, Nick feels his cheeks heat up. “How was I supposed to know it would catch on?” he says, avoiding Superman's bright, bright eyes.
Superman laughed, flopping down on his ass and crossing his legs. His crotch looked a bit obscene in his leggings and bright red pants, but Nick wasn't about to say anything. Or admit he'd been looking. “Right, I guess not,” Superman said. “Anyway, I'm not complaining.”
“Of course not,” Nick says. “It's not enough that you have all these amazing powers, but you've also got everyone running around calling you super.”
“Well, can't fault them for telling the truth,” Superman says, crossing his arms over his puffed out chest. Nick rolls his eyes and makes to stand. “Where do you think you're going?” Superman says.
“I think I've been waiting here long enough, don't you?” Nick says. “Been up here for hours while you took out the bad guys or whatever.”
“And how do you think you're going to get down?” Superman says, scrambling up and following Nick to the side. “I didn't save you just for you to fall to your doom.”
“Just let me down then,” Nick huffs, putting his hands on his hips. “Or better yet, give me a lift home. I'm fucking starving.”
“You know you could show a little gratitude, seeing as I saved your life and all.” Superman rolls his eyes. “You know, just a small detail.”
“You do that like, once a week,” Nick says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “How does that keep happening?” Then he looks at Superman, eyes narrowed. “Are you planning this?”
“Yes, of course I am,” Superman says. “I'm deliberately only fighting crime when you're around, because I don't have anything better to do.”
“How am I supposed to know that?” Nick says. “It's not like I know anything about you! I don't even know your name, for god's sake.”
“You're not meant to, that's why they call it a secret identity.”
“Well, if we're going to be seeing each other every damn day the least you can do is give me something to call you that isn't Superman.”
Superman pretends to consider it, tapping his chin and looking up at the night sky. He hums. “No, I think I like you calling me Superman,” he says. “It has a certain ring to it.”
“I can't call you Superman. Like, does anyone call you Superman to your face?” Nick asks. “Like, does your mum call you Superman? Like when she gets mad. 'Super Timothy Man get down here this instant.'”
“What the fuck are you on about? Timothy?”
“Like, if I were to put you in my phone, right? Would I have to put you as'Superman'? And then if you called how am I supposed to know if you're calling or like, David Beckham?”
“I think there's a difference between Superman and a super man,” Superman says. “But, I mean, I'm not an expert.” Then he grins slyly at Nick, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “Wait, was that you asking for my phone number, Nick Grimshaw?”
“What?” Nick says, stepping back. “No! What the fuck?”
“I mean, you're the one bringing up phone numbers.”
“I'm just saying calling someone Superman all the time is awkward,” Nick huffs. “But whatever, just get me down so I can get some food.”
Superman pouts, but relents. “Fine,” he says. “But like, okay so there's no cool way of doing this, is there?”
“Doing what?” Nick says, before Superman swoops him up in a bear hug and launches them into the air.
“Shit!” Nick yells, grasping at Superman's back, and Superman just laughs. “Would it have killed you to warn me?”
“What's the fun in that?” Superman yells over the wind. Nick just groans, digging his face in Superman's chest, trying not to think of how far away from the ground they are.
Once, before the show, Nick had met a couple of fans who had introduced him to the concept of “koala-ing” someone, where you hug a person with your full body, legs included. Nick had thought it was a bit weird and awkward at the time, but he finds himself koala-ing Superman nonetheless. “I look like an idiot,” Nick mutters into Superman's chest.
“What?” Superman yells. He's got one arm wrapped around Nick's middle and the other outstretched over his head like that's meant to accomplish anything.
“I said,” Nick yells, “that I look like an idiot.”
“Oh, well, that's nothing new,” Superman says, and then banks sharply, prompting Nick to squeeze his arms and legs around Superman even harder. “But, like I said, there's no cool way of doing this, yeah? Like, no matter how you do it, carrying another person is gonna look stupid.”
“Whatever, just don't drop me,” Nick yells, twisting his arms around Superman's neck. “I regret this. You should have just left me on the roof. I could have made a life there.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” Superman says. “You're missing it.”
“Missing what?” Nick says, pulling his head back slightly to look at Superman's face. Superman just grins at him, smile crooked and a little shy, and then Nick looks around them.
Superman's stopped moving and they're floating upright in the middle of the sky. They're so high up that London is just a series of tiny lights below, barely shining through the thick clouds, and the moon looms over them, heavy and ominous. “Oh my god,” Nick says, tightening his arms around Superman's neck. Superman makes a few exaggerated choking noises, and Nick swats his head gently in response. “Oh my god,” Nick says, leaning back slightly to take everything in.
“Sick, right?” Superman says, grinning. His cape waves softly in the wind, even with Nick's fists clenched at the top of it. His hair has gone a bit wispy, blowing around his face, and Nick spares a second to think about what his own hair must look like. Probably not nearly as nice as Superman's.
“Can we be here?” Nick asks. “Are we like, interfering with airplanes or satellites or anything?”
Superman rolls his eyes. “You can't just enjoy it, can you? No, we're fine. Just thought,” he bites his lip, looking away from Nick. His eyes glow slightly in the moonlight, and Nick considers, for the first time, the possibility of Superman not being entirely human. “I just thought you'd like it, or something,” Superman says, tightening his grip on Nick's waist, and Nick blinks.
“Right, well,” Nick says, stunned. “I guess it's, it's quite nice this.” Then he bites his lip and says “What else can you show me?” Superman looks back at him, eyes wide and shocked, and then he snorts.
“Oh, well you haven't seen nothing yet,” he says, and then they're off, twisting through the night, and Nick's laughter is stolen by the wind.
*
“Right, uh, two big macs please,” Nick says, blinking under the bright, fluorescent lights of the McDonalds. In the dark windows of the restaurant he can see his hair has fluffed into a giant cloud at the top of his head, and his clothes are rumpled.
“Combos,” Superman says next to him. “Chips.”
“Excuse me,” Nick says, turning to him. “Who's paying again?”
“Can't blame me,” Superman argues. “I've got no pockets, have I? Too busy saving lives to grab my wallet.”
“You're –“ the McDonald's cashier says, gaping. “Y – You're...”
“Yeah, yeah, don't let it get to his head,” Nick says, pulling out his wallet and grabbing a few bills. “Now, our drinks?” The cashier springs into action, flushing and thrusting two empty cups at them. Nick takes them and him and Superman move to serve themselves.
“This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just changed like I said you should,” Nick says.
“And I told you,” Superman says. “Secret identity.”
“Whatever,” Nick says, sitting down at a table. “I'm not the one wearing lycra in public.”
“I'll have you know, this outfit shows off my superhuman physique,” Superman says, flexing an arm. He does have some rather impressive muscles, but Nick isn't about to admit that. Or admit to know just how superhuman Nick knows his physique to be after being pressed against it for the better part of the night.
Over at the counter, Nick tries to ignore the group of McDonald's workers crowded together, camera phones out and aimed at him and Superman.
“Why exactly is your identity such a big secret, then?” Nick asks, smiling up at the worker who walks up with their food. It's not exactly custom for the food to be brought out to them, but the frantic giggling coming from the girl as she skips away from their table makes Nick think that she probably doesn't mind.
“Why is it ever a secret?” Superman says, shoving a chip in his mouth. “Gotta keep my loved ones safe and all that,” he goes on, mouth full.
“Don't you think though that like, keeping it a big secret is worse?” Nick says. “Like, if I didn't have to see you every god damn day, I'd probably be dying to know who you are and all that. Aren't you scared keeping it a secret is just going to make people work harder to find it out?”
Superman shrugs. “It's worth trying,” he says. “So far I've been lucky, but who knows when one of the assholes I beat up on a daily basis will get it in their heads to come after me. And, this way I get to live a normal life and all that.” He reaches over and steals a few of Nick's chips, even though he's got his own. “Like, I've got a job and shit. Friends.”
“A job?” Nick says, raising an eyebrow. “So you're not just like, some crazy rich guy with a cave full of gadgets?”
Superman snorts. “Batman wishes.”
“Well, what do you do?” Nick says, folding his hands under his chin. “Give me a hint.”
“No,” Superman says, pointing a chip at Nick. “You interview people for a living, I'm not taking any chances.”
“How is it fair that you know everything about me, but I can't know anything about you?” Superman shrugs, and Nick sighs. “Ugh, fine. What's your favorite color?”
Superman blinks in surprise. “Why would you want to know that?”
Nick throws his hands in the air exasperatedly. “I don't know, I just want to know something.”
“Oh,” Superman says. “Uh, blue.”
“Well I could have guessed that,” Nick says, gesturing to his outfit. “Okay, so what's your sign?”
They talk until the restaurant closes, Nick asking questions and, depending on how much the answer reveals, Superman answering. In the end, Nick learns that his favorite color is blue, he's a Capricorn, his favorite animal is a chimpanzee, his favorite band is The Fray, his favorite movie is Grease, and he loves tea more than most things.
“I can't believe you don't drink tea,” Superman says after they've been kicked out of McDonald's by a group of very regretful teenage employees. “What kind of person doesn't drink tea?”
“I don't,” Nick says, crossing his arms. “I drink coffee.” Superman makes a face, and Nick laughs.
“That's unnatural,” Superman says. “It's just wrong.”
“Oh, like shooting lasers out your eyes and flying around is more natural?” Nick says. “But anyway, that leads to my next question: are you like, are you human?”
Superman stops, giving Nick an odd look. “What do you mean?”
“Like,” Nick says, biting his lip. He wonders if he made a wrong move. “You can do all these amazing things that no other person can do. Was it something that made you this way? Or were you born this way?”
“Right, uh,” Superman says, scratching at the scruff on his face. “I guess I can tell you. I'm not really, yeah I'm not human.”
“Are you serious?” Nick says, stopping and turning to Superman. “Like, you're really not human.”
“Nope,” Superman says. “I sort of just landed here as a little baby. Me mum picked me up and,” he shrugged, gesturing to his outfit.
“Must have been tough, having a flying baby,” Nick muses as they begin walking again. “Probably got into everything.”
Superman snorts. “I was a monster,” he says, “but mum raised me right. Taught me right from wrong and all that.” He looks up at the sky, hands clasped behind his back as they walk along the sidewalk. Nick stares at his profile for a moment then looks away, down at their feet. He's surprised to see that Superman's shoes are just a pair of red vans, out of place paired with his skintight outfit.
“Sometimes I think,” Superman says, voice soft. “I think about if it had been someone who wasn't me mum who picked me up, like if it was some dick who wanted to use me. Use my powers to do bad things.” He laughs, ducking his head. “But like, I don't know. It didn't happen, so.”
Nick doesn't say anything for a moment, looking down at their shoes. “I don't think you would have done it,” he says. “If that was the case. I don't know you well, and you're a bit of an asshole, but you're not that big of an asshole.”
Superman laughs. “Thanks a lot,” he says, grinning over at Nick.
“I call it like I see it,” Nick says. “No super villain has ever had Grease as their favorite movie.”
“No super villain has ever had good taste, then.”
Nick laughs, then takes in their surroundings. “Right, uh. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly sure where we are, or how to get back to my house.”
Superman rolls his eyes. “Why are we walking around like idiots, then?” he says, and reaches out a hand. “Tell me where you live and I'll fly you there.”
Nick snorts, taking his hand. “Primrose Hill, please,” he says sarcastically, and is suddenly jerked forward into Superman's chest. He twines their fingers together, face weirdly close to Nick and Nick feels his face heat up.
“Primrose Hill, right away,” he says, and they slowly rise through the air, Superman holding Nick securely to him.
Nick rolls his eyes, wrapping one arm around Superman's neck and disentangling their fingers to do the same with the other. “Show off,” he says, and Superman laughs as they speed off.
It doesn't take long, and soon Nick's pointing down at the top of his flat, telling Superman where to land. They drop gently on Nick's doorstep, Nick only stumbling a little when Superman lets go of him. Superman reaches out to steady him, hand gripping Nick's shoulder.
“Uh,” Nick says. “Thanks, I guess. For the ride,” Nick says, and winces. He looks away from Superman's smirk and sees Pig staring out his front window at them, tail wagging frantically. “And for,” he says, “and for everything else.”
Superman shrugs. “It was nothing,” he says. “Had nothing better to do, I guess.”
Nick huffs. “Well if you're going to be like that,” he says, and then turns to his front door, rooting through his pockets for his keys.
“Nick,” Superman says, laughing softly. “Wait,” he says, grabbing Nick's upper arm and turning Nick towards him. It's weird having to look down at him when Nick has spent most of the night at eye-level, lifted in Superman's arms. “I, uh,” Superman says, flushing slightly, and Nick feels a little kick in his chest at the sight. “It's not often I get to be,” he stops, looking down at his clothes, “well, me, with anyone. I'm either just Superman or I'm, you know, not.” He shrugs. “So thanks.”
“Um,” Nick says, biting his lip. “It was no problem. It was fun.” He finally pulls his keys from his pocket, the sound jarring in the silence between them. “Not every day you get to hang out with an actual superhero, is it?” he continues, before turning back to unlock his door, cheeks burning.
“Yeah,” Superman says, and then he says “Nick.” And this time when Nick turns to face him, Superman's there to meet him, standing on the toes of his vans to kiss Nick lightly on the lips. Nick drops his keys, hands hovering awkwardly in front of him as Superman steps closer, hand lifting to grip Nick's upper arm.
It doesn't take long for Nick to kiss back, bending forward a bit to make it a bit easier on both of them. His skin burns pleasantly in the places Superman touches him, and Nick wonders dazedly if this is another one of his powers, being extra good at kissing. Laser lips, he thinks nonsensically as he digs his hands into Superman's hair, messing it up.
Then, too soon, Superman steps away, hands raising to smooth his hair back, eyes wide. Nick makes a protesting noise, and steps forward, but Superman just smiles sheepishly at him. “I've got to go,” he says, and Nick nods, biting his lip.
“Right,” Nick says. “I guess, I'll be seeing you? Hopefully not like, not like we usually see each other. But like. Maybe we can do lunch? Oh god.” He pushes his red face into his hands, and Superman laughs and gently pulls his hands away.
“Of course,” Superman says. “I can't give you a number, but I'll keep in touch.”
“Oh,” Nick says, “good. I mean, thanks. I'll just,” he gestures to his door. “I'll just go inside, then. Goodnight.”
“Night,” Superman says, and then, “wait.” Nick looks back at him, and Superman bites his lip. “You can call me uh. You can call me Tom, if you want. It's not my real name, but.” He stops, shaking his head. “Nevermind, it's stupid.”
“No,” Nick says. “It's. Tom. I like it. Goodnight, Tom. Be careful.”
“Right,” Superman says, smiling. “You too. I don't want to see you at the scene of anymore robberies.”
Nick sighs, rolling his eyes. “I told you,” he says, but then there's the swish of a cape and Nick looks back to find himself alone.
Nick takes a deep breath, and turns back to enter his house. “You'll never believe where I've been all night, Pig,” he says once he's made it inside, crouching down to scratch her behind the ears. She gives him an unimpressed look. “Don't look at me like that,” Nick says. “It's not every day I get to snog a superhero on my doorstep.” Her expression doesn't change, and Nick huffs. “Fine. Come on, I'll give you a treat.” She barks at him happily and races off to the kitchen, and Nick laughs and follows.
Later, after he's taken Pig on her nightly walk and they've gone through their normal bedtime routine where Nick fails to make her sleep anywhere but his bed, Nick finally settles in bed and begins the process of turning his phone on and dealing with his messages.
There's about a thousand messages from his friends, sending him screenshots from twitter of Nick first about to be hit by a flying car, then sitting alone on a roof, and finally being pulled into the air by a superhero, all with a varying amount of capslock and punctuation. He answers most of them with “I'm okay.” and the see-no-evil monkey emoji, not willing to say anything more lest he give anything away.
Once he makes it through his friends' messages, he's surprised to see one from his intern Louis, sent not too long after Nick arrived home. He can count the amount of times Louis' texted him on one hand, including the newest message, so he's curious to see what the boy sent.
It's a blurry picture of Nick and Superman sitting at McDonald's, laughing over their cheeseburgers. It was probably posted by one of the people working there, on twitter or something. “have fun ?” the message says, and Nick grins.
“Like you wouldn't believe,” he sends back, for some reason unwilling to give Louis the same answer he gave his friends. Then he shuts his phone off, leaving it to charge on his bedside table, and goes to sleep.
*
“So,” Gemma says Monday morning, drawing out the “o.” “Someone was busy this weekend.”
Nick rolls his eyes. “I'm not saying anything, Gemma,” he says.
“Nothing at all?” Gemma says, disbelievingly. “You spent the entire night with him, and you're saying nothing?”
“Yup,” Nick says, and sips at his coffee, grinning at Gemma's groan.
“Louis,” she pleads as Louis walks into the room, carrying Nick's schedule. “Tell Grimmy he's being unfair.”
“You're being unfair,” Louis says, muffled by his yawn. “And you're not allowed to have that coffee in here.”
“I'm not in here,” Nick says, taking another sip. “And I'm not being unfair.”
Gemma huffs. “Neither of you are any fun,” she says, standing up and stretching. “I'm glad I'm off work now, so I don't have to see either of you until tomorrow morning.”
“Love you too, Gemma!” Nick calls after her as she exits the studio. Somewhere behind him, Louis laughs, and Nick freezes.
He shifts uncomfortably, struck with an odd feeling of deja vu. Louis doesn't seem to notice, walking over and dropping a pile of papers on the desk in front of Nick. “There's been a few changes,” Louis says, voice hoarse and sleepy, and Nick does his best to shake off the uncomfortable feeling. He leans over, pointing at a block on the schedule that's been moved around. His hair falls into his eyes and he huffs, irritated, as he pushes it away.
“Have you ever considered pulling your hair back?” Nick says, looking curiously up at Louis. “You're always fussing with your fringe.”
“Naw,” Louis says, smiling softly and rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Once he moves his hand away, Nick reaches up to fix the glasses, setting them on Louis' nose. “Looks terrible, I've tried it.”
Nick shrugs, then moves to straighten out the papers before him and write down a couple of notes. Louis makes to leave the studio, probably to find Matt and start the show. He grabs Nick's coffee cup on the way, patting Nick on the shoulder when Nick grins up at him in thanks. On the screen in the corner, Tina starts the news.
“And, once again, there's been multiple sightings of the vigilante 'superhero' the people call Superman–”