Work Text:
Charlie is better.
Not good or exceptionally great , certainly not cured , he’s not sure he will ever be, but he is relatively better.
Ever since his relapse in January his mother had let Nick sleep over at their place and let him stay over at Nick’s. He had to remember to let her know before 9:00 PM, they had to keep the door open, Sarah Nelson’s eyes seemingly always on them for the entire time, and, most importantly, they had to promise no ‘‘funny business’’ . Charlie was alright with that.
It’s not like he didn’t get the concern, and he didn’t mind since being able to fall asleep to Nick’s steady heartbeat and wake up to his lovely boyfriend running his hand through his curls felt like heaven on earth already. Charlie never liked people touching his hair, always freaking out about how dirty their hands must be and, by extension, how filthy his hair must get and just the thought made him feel greasy and want to lock himself in the bathroom and scrub at his already weak scalp until it pricked and he could finally shake that feeling of discomfort away. But he doesn’t mind Nick, his boyfriend’s touch feels soothing, comforting, and doesn't make him feel like dying.
So, yeah, Charlie is pretty happy with their arrangement.
They both had made each other’s homes a little bit theirs, with the way at least half of Charlie’s wardrobe consisted of his boyfriend’s clothes he had not-so-sneakily stolen (because Nick always reminds him he doesn’t have to pretend he’s stealing, he can take anything he wants, but Charlie insists it’s much more fun that way). The way Nick’s toothbrush and awful bubblegum flavoured toothpaste sat in Charlie’s bathroom, to the whole of Spring family’s horror (his father had once said he may have to rethink whether he should really give Nick his blessing after accidentally using said toothpaste). And the way there is an obnoxious kitchen apron the same colours of the bisexual flag hung in their kitchen, because baking with Oliver has become an integral part of Nick’s Sunday afternoons (Oliver chose it himself as a birthday gift and Nick had treasured it ever since.)
In the same way, Nick’s room was littered with Charlie’s books he regularly brings over and always forgets somewhere after discarding them for a make-out session with his boyfriend (although Nick had picked some of his reads up himself so maybe it wasn’t completely aimless). The way Sarah framed and hung a picture of the both of them she had taken right after Charlie’s last concert, the image of Nick engulfing his frame from behind as he was sat, drumsticks still in hand and a dazzling smile plastered on both their faces (‘‘Ridiculous, you both look lovely, it would be a crime to not put this up’’ is what Sarah had told him when with rosy cheeks he tried telling her she didn’t have to hang a picture of him in their house). And it certainly was in the way Nick always kept a side of their pantry and fridge stocked with Charlie’s safe foods because while they usually chose and stuck to something from his meal plan when he stayed over for lunch and dinner, Nick made it a point to always have something safe for Charlie’s breakfast when he stayed over (‘‘You really don’t have to do this’.’ he had said as he watched his boyfriend fill the right part of the higher fridge compartment with small cups of chocolate mousse, vanilla flavoured zero fat greek yogurt and green apples. ‘‘Don’t care. I want to.’’ Nick had replied simply before moving on to the pantry.)
Charlie is sixteen and he thinks he wouldn’t mind having a whole life of this same warmth and familiarity.
Still half asleep, he can feel his boyfriend’s thumbs draw circles on his hips and when Charlie opens an eye he catches Nick looking down at him, sweet, almost adoring and yeah, he could definitely do a whole life of this.
Nick notices him, of course he does.
‘‘You up, sleepyhead?’’ His hands move to Charlie’s back. ‘‘Come on, we can go have breakfast and take Nellie on a walk? I think David’s still sleeping, so we won't run into him.’’
Right, David.
Charlie audibly sighs in his boyfriend’s chest at the reminder that it was indeed May and thus Nick’s asshole brother was indeed home, back from university. He needs to stop getting caught in his Nick Nelson bubble or whatever Tao calls it.
‘‘Okay.’’ he mumbles sitting up and hand in hand they make their way to the kitchen, Charlie still scrubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.
Although, any sleepiness is immediately washed away as he feels a sense of dread take over him. Right there before them sits David, at the kitchen table, who seems not to have noticed either of them, too busy scraping the last remnants of yoghourt from the small cup he was holding with a spoon, vanilla flavoured zero fat greek yoghourt, Charlie’s vanilla flavoured zero fat greek yoghourt, and not only that but the last cup of it left in the fridge he had planned on eating since the day before. David had eaten his breakfast. Panic.
‘‘Morni– Is that the shirt dad got you for your birthday?’’ David points out with a grin that looks downright evil, glancing at the short sleeved top Charlie had on, but Charlie was frozen in place and so was Nick, eyes fixated on the cup in his brother’s hand. David’s expression fades a bit when he notices he hasn’t struck a nerve. ‘‘Uhu, not very eloquent today? There’s some pastries mum got earlier in the oven, they’re all filled with chocolate, gross.’’
‘‘You ate my yoghourt.’’ Charlie says suddenly, his thoughts all over the place and David looks up at him quizzically, spoon in his mouth. ‘‘That was mine. I was supposed to have it for breakfast.’’ He feels Nick’s hand squeeze his shoulder and it makes him realise he was shaking, fists closed on the hems of his boyfriend’s oversized shirt.
Get it together Charlie.
‘‘Uhm? There’s pastries in the oven.’’ David shrugs and that smirk from earlier is back. Oh no.
‘‘David…’’ Nick warns, one hand around Charlie’s middle and the other still on his shoulder as he tries to steady him and quickly find a solution.
‘‘You can’t eat them? Why did they let you out then? I thought you were cured.’’ And suddenly one of Nick’s hands slams against the table. David looks so smug.
‘‘God, you really can’t help being such a fucking piece of shit, can you?’’ Nick leaves Charlie’s side to stand right in front of his brother and snatches the cup of yoghurt from his hand. ‘‘I don’t think I can even try to make that empty dumpster fire that is your brain think critically anymore. You realised you can’t make my life miserable anymore, so now you are trying to hurt and disrespect the people I love? Do you know how fucking low you have to be to pull something like this?’’ He spits in the cup. ‘‘Well, I’m so completely over it. I really hoped that talk with mum had made you reflect but this is what I get for being foolish enough to still have hope in a homophobic, insentive cunt. Pull something like this again and I will personally make sure your front teeth will go missing, alright? Go to hell!’’ And before David can even formulate a response, still shocked by his brother’s outburst, Nick is pressing the cup of yoghurt against his head, compressing it so David’s hair is now dirty with the remaining cheese and Nick’s own spit. Nasty.
Charlie doesn’t even realise he’s being pulled away from the kitchen. Nick had taken his hand and was now rushing outside as fast as his feet would allow him.
Once they are a good two blocks from the house Nick finally allows himself to breathe.
‘‘I can’t believe you just did that.’’ Charlie says and because his boyfriend looks a single misplaced word away from crying, adds ‘‘Thank you, for standing up for me, it was intense.’’
‘‘I’m sorry.’’ Nick goes for a hug and his face immediately sloths in the crook of Charlie’s neck, his ‘‘recharging spot’’, as his boyfriend likes to call it. ‘‘He just, he was being so awful, I just couldn’t take it. After he said that , I just, I saw red, I can’t believe it. Before he came back mum had promised she’d have a talk with him to at least force him to be civil but he couldn’t even manage that for a fucking week. He is so awful.’’
‘‘It’s oka–’’
‘‘No it’s not!’’ Nick interrupts him, squeezing him tighter. ‘‘This goes way beyond any kind of petty fight. He doesn’t get to fuck with your mental health. That is not alright, it’s not something I can let happen. He doesn’t get to do that. He doesn’t.’’
He sounds desperate and Charlie is short of words, so he just strokes Nick’s back and waits for him to finish, let it all out.
‘‘You have been working so hard, you have been glowing, he doesn’t get to take that away, he doesn’t get to come and ruin every progress you have made. Char… I don’t want to see you look that terrified again, he doesn’t get to do that. He can’t, what am I even worth if I can’t stop him from that? Can’t let him. I won’t let him.’’
He’s rambling now, so Charlie runs his hands up his shoulders and decides to interrupt.
‘‘Hey.’’ Nick stops talking and stifles a sniffle against Charlie’s neck. ‘‘How about we walk to my house and have breakfast there? We can make pancakes.’’ He feels his boyfriend nod against his shoulder and Charlie slowly makes him detach just to gently cup his cheeks with his hands and hold Nick’s face up. ‘‘I’m okay, I was surprised and overwhelmed earlier, but I’m fine now, and you are more than enough, more than anything I could have asked for. Let’s go have pancakes?’’
Nick sniffles again. ‘‘Okay.’’ a nod.
They make their way to Charlie’s house hand in hand, still in their pyjamas and barefoot. Charlie complains about morning breath when Nick kisses him and they both giggle. That’s okay, he can brush his teeth at Charlie’s anyways.