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Charlie’s heart stops in his chest on a Monday night.
Sure, it had already caught between his ribs when Nick casually asked at practice if he wanted to come over after, but there’s something about Nick actually answering the door with hair slicked back, still wet from his post-rugby shower, that makes Charlie want to curl up and die right there on the stoop.
Not that he can do anything about it. He’s forced to clear out his throat and stammer out a “Hi” back to Nick, who’s raised one inquisitive eyebrow at Charlie’s lack of response.
“You alright?” Nick asks as Charlie steps past him and into the foyer, crouching down to pepper the top of Nellie’s head with kisses.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Charlie’s breath stops in his throat when he looks up at Nick, at the freckles and the smile and the damp neck of his t-shirt sliding around his collar.
He keeps his eyes carefully on the steps in front of him as he follows Nick up the stairs. “I’m sorry if my room is messy,” Nick starts as he turns the handle. “This week has been crazy.”
That week had, in fact, been crazy. They had lost another game against St. John’s earlier in the week, and Nick had spent the rest of the time stressed about a maths exam that he refused to let anyone else help him study for. He’d shown up to practice that day post-exam, and shrugged a bit too casually when Charlie asked how it went.
His room wasn’t that bad. A couple stray socks littered the floor and he had an empty water bottle crushed on his nightstand (next to a bottle of lotion that made Charlie blush if he looked at it too long), but his bed was still made, albeit sloppily. Charlie grinned at the thought that maybe Nick had made it just before his arrival, but he shoved that thought aside as he settled on the edge of the mattress. It amazed him that he would ever be here: comfortably sitting on Nick Nelson’s bed, socked feet swinging as they discussed their plans for the night.
“So, what do you want to do? Mario Kart? Movie?” Nick quickly shoved a t-shirt that had been laying on top of his dresser into the hamper next to it.
“A movie would be good.” Charlie leaned back on his hands, trying not to make his staring too obvious as Nick fidgeted with the items on his desk. He’d been acting more nervous, almost, in front of Charlie recently, although he couldn’t quite figure out why. That secret, hopeful part of him wondered if it was because he cared about Charlie’s opinion. The negative part of him (voiced primarily by Tao) shouted that thought down.
“Sweet.” Nick smiled and grabbed the remote, bouncing down onto the other side of the bed. He settled much more easily into the pillows than Charlie had as he powered on the TV.
Hesitantly, Charlie shifted backwards, until he was also leaning against the headboard. There was a respectable inch or two of space between them that he was painstakingly aware of— the distance seemed to crackle with an energy that only he felt.
It took ten minutes of scrolling through movies until they settled on some American action film starring Channing Tatum. It wasn’t much of Charlie’s speed, but Nick advocated so heavily for it that he could only give in with an “Okay, okay” as Nick powered through.
“Should I turn the overhead light off?” Nick asked. Charlie’s face involuntarily flushed at the thought of being this close to him in dim lighting. “I like to get the full movie theater experience.”
Charlie weakly laughed, trying his best to sound like his heart wasn’t slamming in his chest. “Sure.”
Nick sprang up and flipped the lightswitch off, leaving just the fairy lights and a floor lamp in the corner glowing. Charlie tried not to let himself get caught up in the look of Nick in this lighting, but his hair fell over his brow just so as he moved back towards the bed, a smile pricking at the corner of his mouth, and Charlie felt an entire solar system light up in his stomach.
Thankfully, his staring went unnoticed as Nick settled back down on the pillows next to him and pressed play. The space was still between them, but Charlie could feel the way the mattress weighed down with the pressure of Nick’s elbows and hips, the way his body wanted so badly to slide in and close the gap. He tensed, just a little.
The movie was about thirty minutes in when Charlie realized that the weight next to him had gotten a little heavier, a little closer. He risked a cautious look at Nick and realized his eyes were fluttering shut, and he was sliding further into the pillows. His head was now mere centimeters from Charlie’s shoulder.
Carefully, Charlie relaxes a bit more into the pillows so that his arm brushes Nick’s forehead— an offering. He can barely breathe with nerves.
Almost immediately upon feeling the contact, Nick slides closer, setting his head on Charlie’s shoulder. “S’this okay?” He mumbles, although his eyes remain closed.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” Charlie promises, leaning a bit more into him. His weight is warm, and he’s so softly lit, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks, his mouth relaxed with exhaustion. Charlie’s entire body feels like it’s made of champagne and stars.
Another thirty minutes pass like this. Charlie melts into the pillows, relishing in this moment. He can feel Nick’s breathing, heavy and slow, the warmth of their sides pressing together. His arm is starting to go a bit numb, but he wouldn’t dare move it.
As the action in the movie climbs, Charlie finds himself genuinely engrossed. Channing is in the midst of finding out that his best friend is a traitor when suddenly, an arm is twining around his waist and Nick’s head is snuggling in even more, until his nose is in the crook of Charlie’s neck.
He can’t breathe. He cannot breathe. Because oh my god. Nick Nelson is cuddling him right now. Not even kind of cuddling him, not leaning on him: full-on, arm around the waist, eyelashes tickling his neck, breaths timed with his. Cuddling.
He’s still asleep, probably even deeper now if he’s using Charlie as his personal teddy bear. Charlie’s in the midst of debating the ethics of waking him up versus letting him sleep (because he is tired, after all, isn’t it the right thing to do to let him get some rest?) when he hears a “Nicky, dear, is Charlie still over? It’s after curfew—” and then Nick’s mother is opening the door and Nick is awake, suddenly, pushing off Charlie’s chest and rubbing his eyes frantically.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Nelson,” Charlie apologizes. He can feel the flames practically dancing on his cheeks. “I’ll head home now.”
Nick’s mother blinks at them from the doorway, clearly not expecting such a compromising position. She sounds flustered as she goes “Oh, no worries, Charlie, just make sure you get home soon!” At that, she rushes back out the door. Charlie wants to melt into the floor and never come back.
Nick is blinking in astonishment at Charlie. “I’m— I’m so, so sorry about that, Charlie. I didn’t even realize how tired I was and I probably just thought you were a really comfortable pillow—”
“No, it’s okay!” Charlie’s voice cracks and now he really needs to dissolve into the air. “It was just a second, anyway, I was just about to wake you up before your mum came in.” His words are coming out too quickly. It’s like he can still feel the outline of Nick’s arm around his waist. Nick has the imprints of Charlie’s jumper on his rosy cheeks, and it’s too much to look at, so he keeps his gaze on his hands.
Then he’s standing from the bed, and bidding Nick good night, saying he better go, and rushing down the staircase. He barely even takes the time to tie his Converse before he’s out the front door.
They don’t talk about it the next day, but Nick’s hand does seem to linger just a bit longer on Charlie’s shoulder when they say goodbye after practice.