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Peter and Nicholas were half-way down the boardwalk on a blustery Saturday afternoon, coat collars turned up against the wind, when Peter caught sight of a booth that boasted over-large stuffed animals for anyone who could knock down a pyramid of glass bottles - a game that was undoubtedly rigged, which did not seem to matter to Peter.
“Oh my gosh,” Peter said, “Come on,” and dragged Nicholas by the hand over to the booth. Then he turned to Nicholas and gave him the sort of smile that made him feel as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. Nicholas shook his head, as if trying to clear it. He had to tell himself - as he told himself about nearly everything Peter did these days - don’t read anything into it. Because while those smiles made him feel as if he’d been lit from within, they weren’t all that different from the ones Peter gave to everyone else.
“You have to win me one!” Peter said, and Nicholas eyed the stacked bottles, dubiously. As he had thought, they were undoubtedly rigged, and he little felt like embarrassing himself by losing at a game that, by all appearances, a child should be able to win, simply because Peter was in the market for a stuffed toy.
“You’re perfectly capable of winning one yourself,” he said, and Peter pouted at him, which was the point at which Nicholas knew he was going to do his best to win Peter an over-sized stuffed animal that he’d probably insist on keeping on the living room couch of their apartment for the foreseeable future.
“It’s no fun if you win it for yourself,” he said, stroking his fingers over the unbending joints of Nicholas bad hand. He thought, even more insistently, this time, don’t read anything into it. “Come on, Nicholas.”
Nicholas stared at him for a moment and then sighed. “Alright,” he said, “I will… do my best.” Peter beamed at him, which left Nicholas with yet another swooping feeling in his stomach. Good lord. He turned to the booth attendant who looked bored and fairly uninterested.
“$2,” she said, and when Nicholas handed over the money she set three red rubber balls on the counter. “Three tries, killer.” Nicholas grimaced and picked up the first ball.
No one was more surprised than him when he managed to knock the bottles over on the first try. He blinked at them, somewhat disbelievingly. “Huh,” he said, while Peter threw his arms around his neck and made a gleeful noise. The attendant simply said, “Yeah, whatever,” and handed over a stuffed dragon that was nearly half Peter’s size.
“You are so totally the best, Nicholas,” Peter said, taking the dragon. Then he gave Nicholas the sort of shy smile he had when they’d first met, the sort Nicholas had not seen in nearly two years. Nicholas blinked, surprised, but Peter was already taking his hand - with the arm not busy awkwardly hugging the dragon against himself - and tugging him further down the boardwalk. “Come on,” he said, “We’re going to get cotton candy.”
“One of these days,” Nicholas said, “Your unilateral decision making is going to get you in trouble.”
“I totally don’t know what that means,” Peter said, “but I’m not really worried about it.” Nicholas sighed and allowed himself to be pulled along to a booth selling every color of spun sugar imaginable. Peter chose blue, which was hardly a surprise, being that it matched his shirt, and Peter was the sort of person to actually coordinate these things - although the things he coordinated together tended to be atrocious, taken separately. Nicholas took the dragon from him as the booth attendant handed him his cotton candy. Peter peeled off one of his gloves, then pinched off a bit of cotton candy and ate it with a little mmming noise that had Nicholas shifting uncomfortably. Peter smiled at him, then, and pinched off more, holding it out to Nicholas. “Come on,” he said, “Open up.”
Nicholas opened his mouth, obligingly - he couldn’t remember the point at which he’d gone from being annoyed, doing things for Peter, to being happy to do just about anything for him - and Peter fed him the cotton candy. His fingers brushed Nicholas lips, and Nicholas tried not to do something ridiculous like feeling electrified by the touch. He didn’t particularly succeed.
“So, like,” Peter looked down at his cotton candy and then up at Nicholas, through his eyelashes. “I’d kind of like to know when you’re going to kiss me.” Nicholas stared at him, dumbfounded, with the sickly taste of spun sugar in his mouth. “I mean, I can be patient,” which, Nicholas thought, was flatly untrue. “But, like, I really want to, so.”
Nicholas stared down at Peter’s mouth and only managed to get out a stunned sounding, “Peter,” before Peter glanced up at him again and the words died in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what was showing on his face, but whatever it was, Peter must have drastically misinterpreted it because he let out a small, “Oh,” sounding unhappy, and looked back down again. “Um, we can. Can we like just forget that I said that? I mean, it’s okay - “ which was as far as Nicholas let Peter get before he let go of the ridiculous stuffed dragon, tilted Peter’s face back up with his good hand, and kissed him. They both tasted disgustingly of cotton candy, and Peter’s lips were somewhat sticky with it. Nicholas was fairly certain he’d never had a better kiss in his life.
Peter said, “Oh,” again, once Nicholas pulled away, but this time he sounded warm and pleased, and the smile he gave Nicholas was not one he had ever seen before, private and happy. “Okay.” Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. Nicholas looked away from Peter to find the cotton candy booth attendant looking singularly unimpressed.
“I’m happy for you guys, really,” he said, “but do you think you could move now? I’ve got customers.” Nicholas looked over Peter’s shoulder to see a family of five all watching them. The mother looked unimpressed as well, but behind her back, her husband was giving them a thumbs up. Good lord.
“Right,” Nicholas said, picking the stuffed dragon back up again. “We’ll just be… going now,” and Peter giggled as Nicholas pulled him away by the hand. “You’re utterly incorrigible,” he said.
Peter grinned up at him. “You like me incorrigible,” he said.
“I,” Nicholas said and then blew out a breath, “I suppose I do.”
“Awesome,” Peter said, grinning, and stepped close enough to Nicholas that his sneakers bumped against his shoes. “I’m going to kiss you now. So you should, like, put down the dragon.”
“I - alright,” Nicholas said and set the stuffed toy hastily aside. Peter smiled, again, and reached up to set his gloved hands on Nicholas’ cheeks - his hands felt warm, compared to the chill of the October air, and his gloves were wool and somewhat scratchy - then got up on his toes and kissed him. When he pulled back, he was grinning, again.
“You are so totally buying me dinner,” he said, and Nicholas blew out an exasperated breath.
“And how do you know that?” Nicholas said. Peter’s grin only widened which did not bode well for Nicholas.
“Because I don’t put out for boys who don’t buy me dinner, first,” he said. Nicholas blinked at him, as Peter took his hand. “Come on,” he added, as he tugged Nicholas down the boardwalk, “I want pizza.”
“You’re going to put out for pizza?” Nicholas said.
Peter shrugged. “I’m mostly going to put out for you,” he said.
“Ah,” Nicholas said and then had to fight down a ridiculous, embarrassing sort of smile. He wasn’t entirely successful. “Well, then. Pizza it is.”