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Nick Nelson seemed to stumble through life as though it were a rainforest with vines that twisted and dove, lunging for his clumsy feet. Nick had really thought that the hardest part of secondary school would be trying out for the rugby team, or studying for his god forsaken maths exams. But apparently the hardest part of secondary school would have nothing at all to do with school, but everything to do with a bastard by the name of Charlie Spring. The very same Charlie Spring that had coincidentally locked lips with him at Harry Green’s sixteenth birthday party and that same Charlie Spring he had somehow fallen into a relationship with. Not that he regretted any moment of it, of course not. Being able to finally kiss the boy he’d been obsessing over for weeks, being able to hold him was a dream come true really.
His only problem was that now he had nothing between him and being with the wonderful boy that he had, up until a few weeks ago, called his best friend. Now they were boyfriends and Nick Nelson was losing his stubborn, anxiety-riddled teenage mind trying not to kiss him at every chance he got.
“Nick?” Charlie’s slightly amused yet exasperated tone punched through Nick’s stupor and he looked up from his half filled out geometry problems sheet to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. They were lounging on Charlie’s bedroom floor, doing whatever homework their summer-drunk brains could handle. It was early May and god only knew how much work two teenagers could get done while the sun was burning through glass panes. And Nick was daydreaming. Again.
“Yeah..?” Nick mumbled, praying his warm cheeks were a product of the tepid room and not the frankly embarrassing thoughts that may or may not have involved him and Charlie doing something other than homework. Hoping Charlie hadn’t somehow developed super-human mind reading abilities that totally ruined his not-so academic thought processes. In Nick’s defence, it wasn’t his fault Charlie looked so-... he didn’t dare to even finish the thought.
“You’re never going to finish that problem, are you?” Charlie was teasing, clearly. He had the widest smirk on his face, and if Nick didn’t know any better he’d think the boy knew exactly what was colouring his face with such an awful dusting of fuschia. Why would he ever be paying attention to the dimensions of an octagonal yard when his boyfriend was lying ever so comfortably in the sun like a lazy cat?
“Not my fault,” Nick tries to come up with an excuse on the spot, failing miserably when his eyes dart down to his boyfriend’s lips. For Christ’s sake, you’d think that there’d be a grace period between figuring out your sexuality with your very supportive boyfriend and wanting to make out with him at every chance you get, but apparently Nick’s case has him dealing with both. Didn’t need to know what kind of gay you were before feeling the need to make out with a boy, apparently. Charlie seems to catch his gaze and his smirk drops just a fraction.
“Absolutely not,” He says flatly, shifting so that he’s sitting upright with his back against his bed frame, staring at Nick with teasingly patronising eyes. If Nick didn’t know any better, he’d think Charlie was actually offended at the implication that his very presence is distracting. “Do your maths homework, you dork.” His words have no bite or command, so Nick grins widely, moving his head to dodge the pencil Charlie had lobbed his way.
“It’s not my fault you’re distracting me,” He finishes his prior statement with a laugh, pushing his schoolwork aside to the quiet protest of the boy in front of him. Nick pushes down the nervous giggle that almost bursts from his mouth when Charlie rolls his eyes, cursing his brain for the annoyingly persistent chant of “kiss him!”.
“I’m not even doing anything!” Charlie’s response earns another hearty laugh from Nick, moving over to sit on his heels just inches from the other boy’s face.
“Can I kiss you?” Nick abandons his previous reservations, resting a hand on Charlie’s knee, not missing the startled jerk reaction. He searches the other boy’s face, studying the freckles that dust the skin beneath his dark eyes. His hair is dishevelled from a tiring school day and slightly mussed from running anxious fingers through it. Charlie sucks in a breath, blinking and slowly curling the side of his mouth up into an easy smile. He doesn’t give a verbal answer, leaning forward to press his lips to Nick’s cheek, full of teeth as he grins at Nick’s small squeak of surprise.
Nick takes his hand from Charlie’s knee and brings it to his chin, guiding his face until their lips meet and he’s gone from there. Any hesitation that weighed down his bones dissipated and he nearly toppled over in his haste to get closer, pressing his free hand against the ground beside Charlie as he deepened their kiss. They were a mess of teeth and skin and rumpled uniforms, Charlie humming quietly into their kiss. At some point the frenzy quiets down as they slow their movements, coming up for air once in a while. Nick rests his forehead against Charlie’s in a moment of breathlessness, eyes closed and chest rising erratically.
“I want to kiss you all the time,” He breathes evenly, bringing his hand from the floor to cup the other side of Charlie’s face. His skin is soft and warm and Nick is sure he hears Charlie’s breath catch. “Could we just kiss, forever?” That makes the other boy laugh, a sound full of breath and sweetness.
“I’m okay with that,” He responds, his usual sarcastic remark lost and a wistful promise in its place. Nick opens his eyes and meets Charlie’s gaze. They both laugh and shift their eyes away, filled with a comfortable awkwardness. Nick notices that Charlie’s own hands had found their way underneath his shirt and this time he’s positive that his blush is unmistakable, feeling the rush of heat pooling in his cheeks. His palms rest on his sides, fingertips gently pressing into the space right below his ribcage. Suddenly, Nick Nelson has forgotten how to breathe, leaning his head back a bit and disconnecting their foreheads.
“I-” He starts to speak but is cut off by a strangled yelp of his own when Charlie applies pressure to the spot where his fingertips rest, drawing out a giggle that Nick will feel embarrassed to even think about any time in the near future. A look of apology and anxiety crosses Charlie’s face for a moment and he shifts to withdraw his hands. Nick panics, thinking he’s just royally screwed up. “It’s okay,” Nick blurts out, and Charlie’s hands stop, his expression softening.
“Are you sure?” He asks, slowly moving his hands back to where he was.
“I’m sure,” Nick’s voice is steady, minus the slight quiver when skin brushes skin. As if to emphasise just how totally okay he was, Nick connected their lips again. Charlie positively melts into it and his hands stay firmly planted underneath Nick’s slightly unbuttoned uniform shirt. They fade into a comfortable rhythm, lazily making out on Charlie’s bedroom floor with the sunset filtering through his glass windows. Nick feels like he’s drowning in the feeling of being entwined with his boyfriend and it’s slowly unravelling his noisy, chaotic mind. He feels like he could stay in this feeling forever, wishing that he didn’t have to go home in a few hours and have to miss Charlie’s everything.
The other boy has contented himself with pressing the pads of his fingertips against different parts of Nick’s torso, never failing to chuckle whenever he drew out a small noise from the older. Nick smiled, a wicked grin spreading across his face for a moment before he drew away. He only saw Charlie’s confused look for a moment, dragging his mouth down and kissing his jaw.
It would be a lie to say Nick didn’t feel a deep satisfaction when Charlie jolted, a stuttering breath pushed out of his mouth like a bullet. They had done things like this before, but for some reason Charlie had a soft spot just on his neck.
“You ass,” Charlie hissed, half flustered and half surprised mainly. Nick ignored him, continuing his movements downward until his nose brushed the hollow of his throat. Charlie shook ever so slightly, his grip tightening.
“Payback,” Nick said against his skin, knowing that the vibrations of his words would drive his boyfriend up the wall. A heavy feeling lies in the air after Nick brings his lips back to Charlie’s, resuming their movements of before. Maybe they could stay in the moment forever, Nick thought. Charlie’s hands had gotten bored of whatever they were doing previously and had found their way into his hair, messing with the nicely styled locks that Nick had so carefully put together the morning of. Nick was vaguely aware that the room was dark by now, but he could not bring himself to care. The only thing lighting Charlie’s bedroom now was his LED sign above his bed and the faint light from the street filtering through the windows.
After what feels like an eternity, they withdraw and sit back, trying to catch what little breath they have left. Both boys are thrown into shadow, their red cheeks and dishevelled hair darkened by the absence of the sun.
“You need to work on your focusing skills, Nick Nelson,” Charlie says, voice thick from disuse. Neither knew how long they had spent on the floor, tangled into each other as if they were vines in a thriving garden. Nick laughed.
“Fix your pretty face, maybe I won’t need to kiss you so often then,” He countered, poking the other in the stomach. Charlie batted his hand away, rolling his eyes.
That bastard Charlie Spring. Always ruining the best laid plans with his pretty, pretty face. But really, who could blame Nick Nelson for caving so easily?