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Nick Nelson did feel a pang of guilt over the situation that was transpiring. Even if he hadn’t specifically promised his mum that there wouldn’t be a party or that there wouldn’t be any drinking, he did remember the brief exchange between them before she left for the weekend. “Be good, Nicky,” she beamed, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek, before hurrying out the door. In response, he merely just muttered a soft ‘yeah’ under his breath, not entirely sure if she had heard him. Not that it mattered; she trusted him to behave properly, unlike how she had treated David when he wanted to be left home alone.
He’d always been the easier of the two, at least when it came to listening to their mum. He never felt that she was unreasonable in how she treated him either, for that matter, because there was a profound mutual trust between them. Not like David, who had always been kept on a tight leash until he yanked the chain loose and fled to university out of town, only sporadically showing up during vacations.
No, his mum trusted him to do the right thing, or at least try to let his moral compass guide him in the direction of the most sensible decision.
So, it had felt like a big deal when he had reluctantly agreed to host the weekend get together for his and Charlie’s friends. In fact, he had mulled it over quite a bit, in spite of the growing peer pressure from group chat Elle had put together for the purpose of this. Charlie had, naturally, been supportive throughout this miniature crisis, reassuring him that he only had to say yes if he felt comfortable doing it, and that he understood if they were asking a bit much.
Because they definitely were.
The fact that there would be no adult supervision was one thing. He was sure that his mum would merely be pleased for him if he told her that he had arranged a backyard barbecue with his friends, enjoying the summertime weather and forging new memories together. Especially if he had told her about these hypothetical plans and reassured her that there would be absolutely no funny business. Just having a wholesome time eating treats—hot and cold, playing silly games, and simply hanging around.
But he hadn’t told her that. And he hadn’t even entertained telling her that. Because that would have been a lie.
The fact that alcohol was involved made this an entirely different beast.
In the end, he had only said ‘yeah’ as she left, fully knowing that he would be violating some of the trust built between them, figuring it would beat outright lying to her face. He only hoped that his body language hadn’t fully betrayed how he felt. She hadn’t really asked what he would be up to either, aside from assuming he would hang out with Charlie and take care of Nellie while she was visiting his aunt and uncle.
Maybe he should have told her? Or at least insinuated he would have people over? She would be so disappointed in him if she found out. Well. It was more like when she found out. He felt it was only a matter of time, especially since he didn’t think he would be capable of keeping a secret of such a magnitude from her long term. It would just eat away at him; inside him, it would become rodents gnawing on rotting wood, incessant and grating.
Yes, the pang of guilt was potent right now, like needles blooming in his stomach, dissolving as crackling firework, only to shoot up again once they dissipated. And they must have shot up into his face as well, since his boyfriend had just hovered in front of him from his periphery, a look of concern of his own plastered across his flushed face.
“Nick?” his voice sounded gentle, caring, with a tinge of alcohol affecting his inflection. Charlie’s left hand had darted up, wrapping his fingers around his own forearm. His long, slender fingers almost reached all the way around, calloused fingertips cautiously squeezing as to check, to reassure. In his other hand, he was holding a half-full paper cup filled with a drink they had experimentally mixed earlier, together. It was half iced tea, half vodka, courtesy of Darcy. “Is something wrong?”
His voice wasn’t prodding, nor did it dig into those conflicted feelings that had abruptly boiled to the surface inside Nick just now. It just reminded him of the now, and that he must’ve spaced out with quite the furrowed expression on his face while he observed their little get-together in his backyard. It reminded him of the cup he was holding in his own hand, less than half-full at this time. It reminded him that there were no take-backsies here, and that he would just have to deal with whatever consequences this wrought later.
This was supposed to be fun.
Actually, it was fun, until the expectations of being the good kid, and all the guilt of not being as good as his mum thought, came crashing down upon his shoulders.
He made a conscious effort to change his facial expression, giving Charlie a lopsided smile as he placed his free arm around him, draped across the small of his back.
“No,” he said coyly, easily, with an enthusiasm that he tried to convince himself as much as his boyfriend with. “I think I just need to drink a bit more. I’m not as much of a lightweight as you.”
With a slight chuckle, he pushed his hip against Charlie’s, teasing him as the drink in his cup swayed from the movement. This elicited a giggle from the other boy, who proceeded to mirror Nick’s movement, pushing against him with a hip sway of his own. His drink bobbed more violently before it stilled in the vessel.
“Shut up,” Charlie said, letting go of Nick’s forearm, then prodded him in the chest with his index finger, pushing him back slightly. “Just because I’m lighter than you doesn’t make me a lightweight.”
Nick’s eyebrow darted up, his smile grew wider and even more lopsided as it settled into a smirk. “I don’t know if that makes any sense, lightweight.” He said it with emphasis this time, aiming to tease even further. And as if to drive his point home, Nick gingerly tossed his head back and downed the contents of his cup, swallowing quickly to avoid most of the metallic, bitter taste of cheap vodka mixed with a mediocre soft drink. He still let out a satisfied sigh and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his rolled-up sleeves growing taut as his arm flexed.
He wasn’t quite sure if what he just did warranted it, but Charlie had removed his finger from his chest and was just staring up at him now. His face was already quite flush from the alcohol, but Nick swore that it seemed to creep even wider across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Then he blinked repeatedly, as if through a delayed reaction realizing that he was ogling his boyfriend. A cheeky grin lip up his face, highlighting his dimples in the way Nick had grown to love so much.
“Woooooow,” he uttered, drawing out the diphthong as he defiantly raised his own cup, taking a small sip. He quickly lowered it, no longer making the grimaces he had been desperately trying to hide earlier in the afternoon. “That sort of toxic masculinity isn’t welcome in this safe space. We’re inclushive here.” Charlie slurred one of the words at the end there while teasing him, tapping him in the rib with his elbow.
“Excuse you?” Nick smiled at the curly-haired boy, trying to feign offense, but desperately failing. “Toxic masculinity? What are you on about, Char?”
Charlie turned on his heel, taking yet another sip, taking an unsteady step into the evening sun as he started walking away from the shade where Nick had been standing and headed back towards the others, who were spread around the garden on various pieces of outdoor furniture. “Yeah!” his voice sounded, as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re not out drinking with your mates, y’know. You don’t have to show off for anyone. We’re just…”
His boyfriend trailed off mid-sentence, his mouth having outpaced his brain at this moment. “Trying to drink while we feel safe.” Once again, he emphasized the entirely wrong word. “Wasn’t that why you one of the reasons why you agreed to have us here in the first place?”
Charlie’s eyes met his. They were a smouldering blue, clouded by the booze, but even the alcohol couldn’t contain the glint of the playful spark as he kept ribbing with his boyfriend. Nick hadn’t seen this exact look many times prior to this afternoon, but he did recognize that right now, Charlie was feeling happy. Elated, maybe even weightless. The accusation of him being a lightweight from moments earlier seemed despicably applicable in this moment. It humoured him and filled his chest with butterflies and torrents of swirling blossoms.
He liked seeing Charlie enjoy himself through this side they hadn’t showed each other a lot earlier.
Sure, there was Paris, when Darcy had made them try a drink she had personally mixed, which neither of them particularly liked. And his mum had let him try beer on special occasions prior.
But this was different.
They had all come together for the express purpose of if not getting entirely shitfaced, at least seeing how they handled alcohol—and how much they liked it. Charlie was right about that. These were controlled circumstances, as opposed to some raucous party where things could quickly spin out of control. Besides, it would be more fun like this, wouldn’t it? Where everyone felt comfortable with all parties involved, and there was no pressure. Just drinks cobbled together with whatever kind of alcohol they could get their hands on, and any mixers that seemed to be a good idea at the time.
Iced tea and vodka certainly weren’t a fantastic combo. The soft drink didn’t mask the sharp, tinny flavour of the alcohol well enough. Maybe the ratios were just entirely off? Either way, Nick wanted to try a different combination for his next drink. Perhaps even some of the beer that David had left behind in the fridge. Or even some of the wine they had nabbed from a carton box his mum had stuffed in a cupboard in the sitting room.
But Tao had hogged most of the cans of the former, and Isaac hadn’t taken the boxed wine with him after he decided to give that a go.
Either way, the essence of what Charlie had said rang true, despite his tipsy torment. Exasperated, Nick raised his arms in defeat, his smile drawn into a straight line as he cocked his head. “You got me there, Char. How toxic of me to look out for us all.”
He maintained the banter going on between them, striding forwards in this joyful dance of theirs. Charlie’s grin grew even wider as he took a step back, again prodding Nick’s chest with his finger, this time smoothly trailing it in a mostly straight line up to his collar.
“I meant you being all ‘macho rugby lad who insists on chugging his drinks’. We talked about it,” he hovered closer, his curls brushing against Nick’s cheek as he gazed into Nick’s hazelnut eyes. “No pressure tonight. We drink at our own pace.”
Nick smiled back at him, and placed his free arm around his waist, digging his fingers into his side, right above his jeans. “I just wanna have fun with you. And not…” His voice trailed off, looking past Charlie’s shoulder and at their friends. Tara and Darcy were giggling to themselves while listening to music on Tara’s cat-shaped pocket speaker, while Elle and Tao were engaging in a heated discussion about something he couldn’t quite make out. Isaac was sitting by himself in a chair, partly in the shade, partly illuminated by the slowly setting sun, book in hand. The expression in Nick’s eyes shifted slightly as his pupils widened and he let some of the earlier worries slip through the defence of their verbal sparring, his voice growing quieter. “Think about what mum’s gonna say if she finds out we did this behind her back.”
Charlie’s expression softened slightly as he examined the change in demeanour of his Nick. His smile eased from a coy grin to a reassuring smile, lips pouting a bit more. Maybe he isn’t as tipsy as he seems, Nick pondered. Maybe I’m just so easy to read. Before he knew it, Charlie’s free hand had reached up and settled around his shoulder. His fingers stayed for second, before lightly rubbing outwards, sliding down his bicep.
“I understand being nervous about it, babe,” he said, tacking on the pet name without a second thought. “I think most of our parents would have us grounded forever should they find out what we’re doing today.” The flush crept further into his complexion, spreading to his temples as he stifled a naughty giggle. His lithe frame spun around idly once, the curls atop his head bounced in the swing, and some of his drink spilt onto the ground.
Nick had changed his mind: his boyfriend was decidedly a bit sloshed. And he rather didn’t mind.
He surveyed the group, trying to discern what they were all drinking, and how far they’d all progressed with their beverages. He smiled down at his empty paper cup, which seemed to be coming slightly undone from its previous contents, with a large indent forming in the bottom.
“Does somebody have any glowing recommendations?”
The pretence of this gathering was lying slumped to the sides of some bags of snacks, neglected and nary even touched. The disposable barbecue had been far less interesting than the collection of bottles littered around the chairs. No one was really in the mood for what it had to offer, and besides, should they get hungry, they could just go inside the house and peruse the kitchen for snacks or the leftover dishes that had been reserved for this weekend. Or order takeout. But so far, people seemed to be satisfied nibbling on various snacks that had been brought alongside the booze.
It was hard to outshine the moonshine, Nick thought to himself, and caught himself snorting beneath his breath at how clever he found that thought. There isn’t even any moonshine. And yet the amusement persisted, longer than it should have.
Yeah, he was without a doubt getting somewhat pissed too.
An unfamiliar warmth spread from the middle of his abdomen into his chest, then crowned his head. It was by no means unpleasant, just very unusual. Where he was slumped on the chaise lounge, one arm dangling over the armrest, plastic cup loosely gripped (they all switched when their collective two brain cells realized strong alcohol literally ate through the paper ones), he tried to pay attention to his surroundings; it was growing increasingly difficult to make out what everyone else was doing.
His eyes darted over to Tara and Darcy to his immediate left, both sharing the other chaise, sitting next to one another, knees touching candidly. He tried to concentrate on their conversation, which was being drowned out by the cat-shaped remote speaker resting against Tara’s shoe. What was it playing? girl in red? The audio quality wasn’t stellar, and it was clear Tara had mostly bought it because how stinking cute it was.
When his ears finally managed to cut through the haze of booze and music, Nick started making out what they were saying.
“Darcy, are you sure it’s okay to just drink straight liquor?” Tara sounded emphatic in her concern, maybe overly so. She was gazing into the green bottle clutched in her girlfriend’s hands. No, wait, the bottle isn’t green. It’s clear. The contents were just vibrant green. He could tell because some of it was missing as it squelched about as Darcy’s hands shook from her restlessly moving her knees. Was this the watermelon liquor she had talked about earlier?
“It’s good,” Darcy initiated, flailing with her free arm away from Tara. “I like it. D’you wanna try?” Her speech didn’t quite slur like Charlie’s had earlier, but her intonation was all over the place.
Darcy leaned closer to Tara, her eyelids heavy and her lips parted. “We could just kiss if you don’t wanna drink from the bottle.” Her eyebrows waggled furiously, and she bit her lips.
A short scoff escaped Tara as she turned around towards Nick, with wide eyes he could only infer exasperation from. “Do you see what I gotta deal with?” she asked him, with a tiny smile in the corner of her mouth betraying her amusement at Darcy’s corny attempt at seduction.
Her raised his cup of rum and coke to her, a sly grin of his own forming. “I don’t see much difference from when she’s sober, to be honest.” He then took a sip.
Yeah. This was much better than vodka and iced tea. He couldn’t really taste the alcohol anymore and didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing.
In the back, he heard Darcy’s hearty laughter, bubbly and cheerful, as her torso lolled. Tara exchanged a tired look with Nick across the rim of the cup, before turning back to her girlfriend. She placed her hands in her lap, grabbing one of the sleeves of Darcy’s colourful rainbow jumper as she adjusted herself to fully face the other girl.
“Darcy,” her tone seemed overly serious for the situation. The way it sounded like she was about to reprimand her girlfriend made Nick chuckle. He felt a momentary sense of relief that he had just swallowed, otherwise he feared that some would have come out his nose. That would no doubt have burned.
“Darcy,” she echoed, trying her best to ignore both laughing people around her, intently gazing up at the girl in front of her. “We don’t wanna repeat what happened in Paris. I was so worried!”
As if to demonstrate her point, she raised her arms, still clutching Darcy’s hand inside the oversized sleeves, before dropping it down into her lap again. Yeah. That thought had crossed Nick’s mind briefly. It didn’t take much for Darcy to paint Mr. Farouk’s bed all sorts of unsavoury colours back then, and for her to then feel like she had ruined Tara’s celebration. Happy birthday, indeed.
But right now, he wasn’t particularly bothered about it for some reason. He felt relaxed, at ease, and thought that whatever would happen, would happen right now. It felt so divorced from his previous anxieties and guilt that he had briefly confided in Charlie with.
Speaking of that lightweight.
He turned his head to his right, towards the two plastic chairs Tao and Elle were occupying, his boyfriend sitting on a cushion on the ground, one hand splayed out to his side, the other wrapped around a can his best friend had just handed him. His face was contorted into a grimace, those soft insides of his lips partly exposed as he frowned and recoiled from the drink in his hand.
“Dear god, Tao, that is vile,” he exclaimed, handing it back to the boy in the beanie, sputtering and smacking his lips in disgust. “No, don’t like that at all.”
A dramatic gasp burst forth from Tao’s mouth as his face opened, both his mouth and eyes wide before he pulled back, and demonstratively pouring a large mouthful down his throat, then made a satisfied and snappy ‘ah!’ sound. Whatever IPA crap he had purloined from the stash David had left behind couldn't possibly be that good, but it had Tao raving.
“There’s no accounting for bad taste,” he concluded after his sip, adjusting his legs as he looked down on Charlie. “You clearly can’t make out the notes of fruit, with a hint of malt, and a succinct aftertaste of bitter ho-“
“Tao, did you get all that yourself, or did you just read the label?” Elle interrupted, shooting him a questioning glare as she took a sip from her own drink, a vodka cranberry, if Nick remembered correctly.
Once again, he was quick to feign offense, scoffing and placing a hand on his chest, as if to clutch his pearls. “How dare you! We both know that my refined palate is more than capable of distinguishing between these different flavour profiles.”
He puffed out his chest and raised his chin defiantly as his face contorted comically, eliciting a giggle from Elle. Nick looked over towards the legs of the chair, smirking to himself at the sight of multiple cans littered around it. Yeah, sure, Tao, he thought to himself, chuckling beneath his breath. Though, he had to admit he was curious about those. He didn’t quite get the appeal, but if both David and Tao fancied those fancy beers so much, he ought to give them a go.
However, as Nick swung his legs over the sun lounger, he noticed just how heavy his limbs felt. As if he was treading water. They seemed to obey the impulses his head sent at a delay, though they were still registering. He did not anticipate that getting up from the chair to do so would feel so cumbersome. Had he just made some sort of dad noise as accompaniment to getting up? Maybe he shouldn’t be pointing fingers at other people’s inebriation so readily. Pots and kettles, all that.
Once he walked over, Nick stroked Charlie’s back, trailing his fingers across his shoulder blades before letting them settle on his girdle, squeezing tenderly. In response, his boyfriend leaned against him, resting his head against Nick’s thigh as his weight shifted. They briefly exchanged glances and smiles before the standing boy turns to Tao.
“Got any more of those?” Nick inquired as he chugged the remainder of his rum and coke, slamming the empty cup onto the table.
“Oh, what’s this?” Tao smugly glanced at Nick, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Has Mr. Marvel himself finally decided to develop taste?”
“Oi!” Nick’s brow furrowed as he smiled. “We promised everyone there would be a movie truce tonight.”
Tao raised both his arms, one hand still wrapped around the can of beer. “Very well, Nicholas,” he said, uncharacteristically using his full name as he conceded defeat. “The topic of your inferior taste in blockbuster garbage is taboo.”
“I like Spider-Man,” Charlie chimed in, not wholly related to the exchange that was going on.
“Yeah, Spider-Man’s alright,” Elle agreed, looking over to Tao with intent Nick couldn’t quite make out.
“And the beer?” Nick prodded.
“There’s more in the fridge,” Tao said, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not sure if there’s more of the good stuff. Your brother seems to have quite the eclectic taste in bitters.” His eyes widened as he overemphasized ‘eclectic’.
“Yeah,” Nick agreed, with a breathy reply, as he turned towards the backdoor. The indoors looked so dim compared to the orange lighting permeating as the sun was slowly sinking beneath the skyline. “I’ll go look.”
He loosened his grip around Charlie’s shoulder and let his fingertips trails across his dark curls as pulled away, leaving his boyfriend briefly shuddering from the fluttering touch. His eyes met Charlie’s as he started walking indoors, exchanging a knowing smirk.
Before heading inside, Nick looked over to the last attendee of this gathering, sitting closest to the wall, reclined in a deck chair of his own. Isaac had grabbed what was possibly the chunkiest novel lying around in the living room, one that his mum had seemed to have abandoned at some point or another. ‘War and Peace’ the title read, cover shimmering in the sun as he adjusted himself in the seat, taking another sip of wine from the glass next to him. He paid no mind to the nonsense going on around him. Next to him, Nellie was curled up, sound asleep despite the ruckus. It was clear that he wasn’t nearly as buzzed as the rest of the group, but the glass was still easily 3/4th empty. He didn’t even seem to notice that Nick had looked in his direction; if he did, the brick of a book in his hands was more interesting than interacting with his friends right now.
Nick turned on his heel as his hand latched onto the doorhandle and started swinging it open, his usually immaculately styled hair uncharacteristically floppy in the way the strands of hair fanned out across his forehead. He looked at everyone, and no one in particular.
“Does anyone else fancy anything from the kitchen?” He surveyed them, trying to discern reactions, lingering perhaps a bit too long.
Tao shook his head.
Elle did the same, and muttered ‘no, thank you’ with a smile on her lips.
Charlie just grinned at him, and Nick recognized the mischief brewing behind his eyes. “Only you,” his boyfriend flirted, leaving Nick to roll his eyes before finally looking over at Tara and Darcy.
Tara shook her head as well.
“Could you maybe get some pickle juice? I kinda wanna try something.”
Darcy, however, had a strange request. Nick felt a bit taken aback, and he furrowed his brows as he did a double take, no doubt moving back a bit. He then exchanged glances with Tara. Her face told him she wasn’t quite sure what was going on either.
“Sure, I can look,” Nick replied, hesitation and amusement equally lingering in his voice. He tilted his head. “What for?”
“See, there’s this thing called a pickleback shot,” Darcy explained, leaning forward, excitedly gesticulating with her hands. “You’re supposed to chase the booze with some pickle juice. Thought I’d give it a go!”
Nick intensely nodded his head, as if he understood what exactly she was talking about—he really didn’t. But like anything relating to alcohol, he thought maybe Darcy knew more than he did. “Yeah,” he said, starting to enter the doorway. “Cool.”
No further questions.
He’d walked this way innumerable times, it should practically be on autopilot. Yet, Nick found he had to think about which way he should walk around the sofa, which way he should go to most efficiently reach the kitchen. He wasn’t that drunk, he told himself. He just needed to pull himself together and focus for a bit. With determination, he walked past the foyer, past the shoes scattered haphazardly, and into the kitchen. The dying daylight peeking through the blinds was the only source of lighting now.
(It did not occur to him that he should have flipped the light switch.)
The fridge door swung open with a heavy creak, its contents momentarily blinding him with its artificial glow. Beer, he thought, as to remind himself of his purpose here. Nick’s eyes trailed over the shelves, neatly organized by his mom, including a bunch of Tupperware boxes helpfully labelled as to indicate what leftovers were inside. Pickle juice. He seized the heavy jar from the condiment section in the door before his eyes trailed up to bottle shelf. Tao had mostly robbed it dry; there were a couple of Guinness left, alongside a single brand he didn’t recognize with a label he found more artful. In Tao’s defence, David hadn’t left a lot behind before he left, and he felt no guilt whatsoever partaking in his knobhead brother’s stash. He guilelessly grabbed the can with the pretty design.
Reaching around with his elbow, Nick closed the fridge door.
It took maybe a second, but he noticed that a tuft of dark curls and the wide grin had snuck up behind the open door before he managed to register that this did, in fact, surprise him. It was an uncanny sensation, the delayed reaction.
“Jesus, Char,” he gasped, stumbling one step back as he blinked furiously, registering Charlie’s joyful smile, dimples on full display. He almost dropped both containers he was holding. “I swear you and Tori are related or something.”
The joke elicited a stifled giggle from his other half, who had placed both of his hands on his back, and Nick swore that the boy’s eyes sparkled even more in this moment. His laughter ran up Nick’s spine, leaving trails of infectious bubbles of bliss in their wake. Fuck, he loved Charlie so much. And he felt an overwhelming need to feel his frame beneath his hands, to achieve closeness. He shoved the can and the jar onto the kitchen counter and scooted closer to his boyfriend.
“I said I only wanted you in the kitchen,” Charlie tilted closer, shimmying his shoulders as he leaned towards Nick.
The feigned innocence, the fluttering eyelashes, the shiny lips, the creeping, lustrous blush on his face. They all made Nick shudder. Shit, he’s beautiful. Leaning closer, he could smell Charlie’s breath. There was an astringent quality to it, poorly masked by some sugary concoction. Beneath lay slightly sour tones, with a hint of fruit. Maybe Tao wasn’t entirely off his rocker when it came to his ‘refined palate’. It was neither refreshing nor particularly appealing, but it was still Charlie. He loved him no matter how his breath smelled. And the warmth of each perspiration was making Nick’s skin crawl delightfully too.
“Oh,” Nick exclaimed. The response feels like it had left him in slow motion, his eyes swimming with that delightful buzz, drinking in everything about his boyfriend right now. The way his chin was more pronounced when he grins from ear to ear. The way his coif curls spilled across his forehead, hanging over his brows. The way his blue eyes shimmered even in the dim lighting of the kitchen. How his supple skin caught the rays from the window. Even how he was slouching ever so little, and how relaxed he looked. Even the tiny blemishes of acne that looked deliberately tucked away behind the bramble of hair wriggling across his forehead.
It felt like too much to take in right now.
Nick wanted to just smirk and lean against the fridge, to look down at his boyfriend, say something suave as a retort to Charlie’s adorkable attempt at flirtation. Cup his chin, woo him all over again, as he leaned in for a kiss.
But wherever those debonair words would be, there was just a wordless urge.
Letting go of his inhibitions, Nick wrapped his arms around Charlie, enveloping him as he inhaled the scent from the crook of his neck. He smelled faintly of alcohol, a tinge of sweat, and that familiar unscented deodorant Nick had gotten so used to. He smelled like his boyfriend, and it was more intoxicating than any of the drinks he had imbibed today. Eventually he felt a pair of hands wrap around his back in turn, squeezing him back with far less force.
“You smell really nice,” Nick’s muffled voice was drowned by the flannel shirt as he buried his face deeper in the nuzzle.
“I don’t smell much different from normal, do I?” Charlie laughed in return, running his hands down Nick’s back.
“Exactly.” The reply didn’t make entirely sense, but he didn’t care. Words weren’t sufficient right now.
He pulled back from Charlie, his arms dropping down across his lower back before settling there. Then he swallowed, and reflexively tossed his head to the side to get his increasingly dishevelled fringe out of his eyes.
“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell,” Nick mused, leaning in close as he parted his lips.
Charlie’s curls flounced against his temple before they were pressed down like springs, and the dark-haired boy’s arms shot up, seizing his boyfriend’s shoulders in a desperate embrace as their lips met. The kiss was sloppy and needy, with an unusual amount of teeth considering the amount of time they had spent practicing together. Eventually, Nick came to realize it was because Charlie couldn’t stop smiling, with the occasional hum of his giggle reverberating inside of their mouths. Their respective hands travelled fervently, Charlie’s hooking around Nick’s shoulders before brushing up the back of his neck—yielding a shudder of pleasure—while Nick rubbed down as much of Charlie’s backside as possible before cupping his boyfriend’s jawline with one hand and settled for running his fingers through his locks with the other.
When their lips unlocked, they were both breathless, mouths flush from the stimuli, and the laughter sat easy among them.
“I really wanted to do that,” Nick eventually panted, stroking his thumb along Charlie’s cheek. When he tried to let it drop, his boyfriend caught it with sleeve-covered hands, bringing it back up against the taut, soft flesh again as he tenderly rubbed the knuckles.
Nick melted at the sight. He looks like a cat, he thought to himself, very briefly entertained betraying his affection towards Nellie for another type of animal.
“Kissing you is fun,” Charlie cooed, lowering Nick’s hand, still holding onto it. “Making out is always fun.”
Suddenly, he was a blur of movement, faster than Nick could have anticipated, his body being tugged along by his boyfriend’s surprising strength. Charlie’s laughter was bubblier than any fizzy drink he had today, surging through his abdomen until they burst in his face in the form of a chuckle of his own. Nick could barely keep up with the bouncing curls as Charlie spun around, holding onto his boyfriend’s hand above him, as if to emulate some sort of dance, albeit rather clumsily.
Grace didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter to Nick right now was seeing the person he loved the most devoid of any worries, any emotional turmoil that he had been carrying with him. Right now, Charlie was not the Atlas to his own dark skies. Right now, he was just a carefree boy who marched to the beat of his own drum, not the musical sheets and rigid rhythms his head often told him he had to obey.
“Oop-,“ Charlie exclaimed as he lost his footing from the overenthusiastic dancing.
If it weren’t for the fact that Nick had been holding onto his hand, he suspected that he would not have been able to respond in time as Charlie’s legs stumbled and gave way under him. But with reflexes he didn’t even know he had, Nick had reached out with his other arm, caught his dainty frame, and now restrained him from cruel gravity. He hovered over him, hair fallen out of place.
Charlie’s dilated pupils nearly consumed his irises, turning them into brine pools in the dark. His lightly parted lips, settling after opening wide during the free fall, looked even more inviting than they had before. He reached out, stroking Nick’s fringe away from his face, not breaking the eye contact. He then spoke.
“That was really hot.”
Nick’s heart soared to his throat, and his lungs felt even more breathless than they did moments ago, when he had rather inelegantly sucked face against the fridge door. He knew he was bound to ruin the moment by saying or doing something corny. Perhaps a phrase along the lines of ‘maybe rugby is good for something.’ But it didn’t occur to him that he might already have the dorkiest looking smile plastered across his face, a far cry from his signature heartthrob smirk, that did all the corny talking words could not.
This did not seem to be an issue for Charlie at all.
Within seconds, his arms were around Nick again and they were back to necking. While Nick was strong, the awkward position they were in when they had initiated the contact made it difficult to keep Charlie upright; not to mention that with one arm occupied, he couldn’t run his palms all over Charlie the way he wanted. Fuelled by this intense want to just be all over the boy beneath him, Nick slowly lowered him to the floor, supporting his neck in their shared descent.
Never for a moment did their lips leave one another.
It was a sensuous fog, both debilitating and insufficient, where Nick was hovering over Charlie. His elbows propped him up, one hand desperately clambering onto his boyfriend’s shoulder, the other rummaging through his curls, leaving them dishevelled in a ravenous wake. On his side, Charlie was frantically stroking his hands up and down Nick’s back, the touch lacking the usual rhythm their bodies had grown accustomed to. Once Nick felt a pair of cold hands crawl up his shirt, making contact with his lower back, he moaned into Charlie’s mouth, deepening the kiss even further. The aftertaste of whatever beverages they had partaken in mingled, creating a hybrid residue cocktail in the saliva. More than that, Nick longed for the hints of familiarity in Charlie’s mouth, the essence of affection.
As the unfamiliar warmth of alcohol kept brewing through him, mixing in an antipode with that familiar haze of love—of want, Nick felt like reality was sucking him out of the moment by reminding him that he had eased his hips into Charlie’s, and that Charlie’s legs were currently wrapped around his own. This sudden sense of intimacy was sobering, more than any glass of water or brisk breeze. He eased his tongue out of his boyfriend’s mouth, slowly pulling apart, taking care to also get on his knees, so he was no longer pinned against Charlie.
His breathing was laboured, his cheeks burning. Beneath him, Charlie’s chest heaved like a baby bird, thin and furious. Nick would bet his heart was thundering with Thor’s might, much like his own. The lustrous glitter in his boyfriend’s eyes had shifted, darkened as his pupils had exploded into an expression of desire Nick had only seen when they had engaged in the heaviest of petting before. It had felt fantastic back then, and it felt great now.
But this wasn’t how Nick wanted their mutual desire for one another to be realized. Not under the influence. Not on some hard surface in his mum’s kitchen. Not while their friends were literally hanging out right outside the room next over. Not while some muffled queer anthem from a tiny speaker served as a reminder of them not being alone.
It was a bit frightening how swiftly it felt like his inhibitions had flown out the window, not to mention how rapidly their mood had shifted from flirtatious giggles to approaching dry humping. He didn’t want to regret anything tomorrow, and more importantly than that, he was terrified that Charlie would do something he would regret. Nick was positive that he himself would just feel guilty and embarrassed if the memory persisted in the morning, whereas his poor boyfriend’s brain might just overload with anxious thoughts and fry whatever circuits kept him going on the regular.
Light-hearted fun was the way to go this eve—not all the way, so to speak.
With a huff and a smile, he broke the brief silence following their spontaneous, hormonal throes.
“We’re snogging on the kitchen floor,” Nick gesticulated with his eyes, tilting his neck back, as if their circumstances weren’t immediately obvious.
“Oh.” Charlie’s realization, followed by his eyes looking over to both sides, was earnest and clueless, as if kissing his boyfriend had reduced his spatial awareness to zero. He then ran his palms across Nick’s chest, eyes beaming. “Is that a problem?”
Both of them laughed heartily, Nick’s head dipping down to rest on Charlie’s chest.
“It’s not really that comfortable, is it?” Nick looked up at Charlie, chin still resting against his ribs.
“I suppose not,” the other boy said, and ran his fingers through strawberry fringe.
“I could at least have the courtesy of hoisting you up against the kitchen counter,” Nick smirked.
“I’m not sure if I could trust you not to drop me right now,” Charlie responded.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t you just see how I caught you as you fell? Rather romantic if I say so myself.”
Charlie suppressed a smile, biting his flushed lips as his irises contracted around his pupils, delight replacing whatever carnal desire had previously overcome him. “I suppose you’re right, Nelson.”
“Quit your whinging then, Spring!” Nick sat up on his knees with a groan, reaching out a hand to his boyfriend as he got up on his legs again. The world felt a bit wobbly, so it took him a few seconds to steady himself. Charlie followed suit, even more unsteady on the linoleum.
To secure him, Nick seized him by his shoulders, placing his arms under Charlie’s, and pulled him close. He rested his chin on the bridge of his boyfriend’s nose as he nuzzled into his forehead, curls tickling Nick’s face as he planted chaste kisses on his forehead.
It wasn’t much, especially compared to how it had felt like their bodies were briefly melting into one moments ago, but it scratched that insatiable urge to just be close right now. The fact that he felt Charlie splay his palms over his chest, exhaling contentedly, and breathing rhythmically beneath him was more than good enough.
“You know,” Nick started, whispering into Charlie’s curls. “You didn’t have to sneak inside to make out with me. I’d be happy to do it outside.”
Charlie briefly pulled back, the prospect of shenanigans flickering in his irises. “In front of everyone? Tao would be so mad.” A giggle stifled into a snort followed. “I’m in.”
Nick chuckled in return, then briskly ran his fingers through Charlie’s curls and across his cheek. “Well, what are we waiting for? We got a show to put on.” He smirked, feeling a brimming sense of confidence and affection well up inside him.
One of Charlie’s hands fell to his side, sliding down Nick’s arm before settling around his freckled knuckles. A content hum accompanied the movement as his boyfriend caught onto whatever tune Tara was blasting in the backyard, his head bobbing to the beat. Nick dared not take his eyes off the sight in front of him, and in his distraction, grabbed only the can of beer off the counter, leaving the jar of pickles out, stranded near the edge (Darcy would just have to back her pickles some other time).
Nick could hear Charlie mutter lyrics under his breath, arcane and incomprehensible, trilling tones that accompanied his unsteady skips, causing Nick’s shoulder to sway and bob. A bemused smile crept up the left corner of his mouth as they walked towards the backdoor, through the sitting room.
“Aren’t you giddy?” Nick cooed with stolen glances. It felt like he was not supposed to be watching, like this was some intimate display for no one. “That chuffed to make out in front of Tao?”
A giggle caught in Charlie’s throat tried to escape but had to settle for easing between his teeth has he grinned.
“Not just!” Charlie Spring sprung forth with a tiny leap, dragging Nick with him. “I can’t really explain it, but I just wanna do everything! I wanna run and jump and dance and spin- “
His body was a marionette in free fall, limbs loose, joints free, no strings attached. The only thing that prevented him from falling over again as he skipped towards the glass door, was Nick’s arm yanking him close. The laugh finally escaped as he spun around, crashing against the auburn-haired boy’s chest.
“Char, you can’t do those things! You’re basically legless.” Nick interrupted, a wrinkle of worry darting up on his forehead. His eyes darted down to Charlie’s two left feet, wobbly and unsteady. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you got hurt right now!” The feeling of concern took Nick by surprise as it welled over, and brewed throughout his body, a barrage of lilac prickling his torso. Nothing was allowed to ruin this evening or disrupt Charlie’s carefree mood.
“You’re a spoilsport.” He puffed up his cheeks in a manner that was pouty, bratty, and downright adorable in Nick’s eyes, then pressed his palms against Nick’s clavicles in protest.
“And you’re pretty.” He wasn’t quite sure what had come over him, but Nick had turned to face his boyfriend, let go of his hand, and cupped his chin, gazing at a face that was steadily growing more flustered.
“Shut up.” And there it boiled over, Charlie’s ears glowing red and proverbially steaming.
Nick closed the distance between them and enveloped Charlie’s cheeks with both hands as he leaned in for a kiss. It was more chaste than before, no tongues prodding for an invitation. It was warm and fuzzy, bubble-gum and sparklers to the fireworks and peppers of… Whatever they had just done on the floor. Nick draped his other hand, the one holding the can of beer, across Charlie’s back, which prompted his boyfriend to run both of his hands up the back of Nick’s neck, into his hair, ruffling vigorously as their kiss deepened.
Before he knows it, Nick abruptly received an armful of teenage boy as Charlie jumped up and wrapped his legs around his waist, clamping down with his thighs. His hand dropped from Charlie’s chin and settled to support his back, the other settling slightly below his buttocks, somewhere around the thighs. The extra weight left him unsteady, forcing him to the left. Coupled with the coordination-crushing qualities of alcohol, this could have spelled another fall—this time for both of them. But they merely slammed into the door with a thud. The solid surface allowed Nick to adjust his grip, hoisting the curly-haired boy up a bit, eliciting a spray of laughter into his mouth.
The brief interlude of amusement was over as soon as it had started, and the two were back at insatiably making out. It wasn’t as frantic as their session on the floor had been; they paced themselves better, savoured the sensations, the taste, the warmth. The need still crackled, an ember in the background, but a calm restraint formed a smothering blanket of snow above it.
And it certainly helped that they knew they were about to have an audience, even if they weren’t yet wholly visible through the window in the door.
“Didn’t you just say you didn’t trust me to hoist you in the kitchen?” His nose teased against Charlie’s cheek as their eyes met. He blew a strand of hair threatening his eye out the way. “You’re cheeky.”
“Are you the thought police?” Charlie’s eyebrows darted up, his eyes widened as an exaggerated expression of self-righteousness formed. “Because it sounds like you made changing your mind illegal.”
“If I’m the thought police, I suppose that means I’m accosting you,” He squeezed Charlie’s thigh, yielding a tiny squeak from the boy latched onto him. “You don’t mind coming with me, do you, sir?”
The tiny yelp was quickly followed up by a quickly restrained laugh as Charlie covered Nick’s mouth with his own. “You’re a dork. A total dork.”
While both lovebirds were deeply preoccupied in their own little bubble of teenage joy, neither noticed that the solid surface they were leaning against had slowly started to give way, sighing with a protracted creak as Charlie’s leg had pulled down the handle to the door. It swung slowly by the press of their bodies, and before they knew it, their little bubble had burst; they were back in the pond, with the audience they so dearly had desired moments ago. The overexerted kitty speaker, now knocked over no doubt by Tara’s foot, spilled hyper pop as their entry fanfare.
Nick was the first of them to notice, his eyes leisurely dragging across the people spread around the backyard. The first person they meet was Tara. Her face was bright, her smile knowing. In her lap, Darcy was resting her head, Tara’s allegedly soft (according to her girlfriend) hands were caressing her hair. The girl in her lap was grinning from ear to ear, impishness spilling.
He then locked eyes with Tao, then let his gaze drift to Elle, and he kept looking back and forth between the two. Tao’s face, which he could surmise had previously been lifted into a smile he shared with Elle (and only Elle), fell into an utterly unimpressed scowl. Elle blinked, her hand on the boy’s thigh, thumb idly caressing hearts into his jeans.
At last, he looked over at Isaac, who was lowering his book, teeth gritted into his signature coy beam. His eyes trailed up and down. Charlie’s head turned, looking in inverse order to Nick, starting with Isaac. With both of their eyes on him, the bookish boy then spoke.
“Oh, good. We were worried you had gone upstairs or something.”
Nick was sure that he just went the brightest shade of red he could imagine. That his freckles had just been washed out by his newfound skin tone of cooked lobster. And he didn’t have to look at Charlie to feel him doing the very same thing. They were searing nickels frozen in place, both hammered and ready to be hammered into the ground, to disappear from the sheer embarrassment of that implication.
It was Tao that rescued them from that fate.
“Isaac, I really did not need that mental image,” he made a heaving noise, pointing down his throat as he stuck his tongue out. “These two are already disgustingly handsy when they’re around us.”
Isaac’s only response was a naughty cackle, apparently revelling in the deliberate embarrassment he had wrought upon most of his friends, before he again disappeared behind the pages of his book of choice this eve. Nick thought that he had chosen war, not peace, on this occasion.
“Taaaaaooooooo.”
Charlie’s whine whistled, uncharacteristically high. Nick had felt him remove his hands from his hair and noticed that Charlie pulled them up to his face, as if the sweater paws were a remedy to the vigorous blushing. He had not, however, let go of Nick’s waist with his legs. Nick hadn’t let go either, to be fair. He was still supporting his body with his arms. A bashful smile crept up on his face as he realized that their bravado regarding PDA had suddenly and violently petered out before the show had even begun.
With a strained noise, Nick adjusted his grip around Charlie’s legs, hopping a bit in place to push him up (it was quite difficult with one hand wrapped around a can). “Come now, little baby”, he teased as he took a step outside. “Let’s have a seat before you slide all the way down.”
In response, Charlie murmured something unintelligible into his shoulder, squeezed him tighter, and buried his face as if that would alleviate the shame. Unfortunately for Charlie, he was no cartoon ostrich.
Nick thought his boyfriend really did feel like a big baby right now, with how he was carrying him. A gangly, lanky baby. His gangly, lanky baby. In truth, he probably looked more like a spider monkey the way he was bunched around Nick’s torso, a tree trunk in the canopies, but that didn’t seem like a very flattering comparison in his mind.
He plopped himself down in the same chaise he had left, now with a lapful of boyfriend straddled across him, a content smile only briefly giving way to a sigh of exertion. As they settled, Charlie’s hands trailed onto his clavicles, while Nick’s settled firmly around his boyfriend’s obliques.
Once more, he found himself staring at the curly-haired marvel atop him. A comparison oozed to the surface of Nick’s mind, that of a Greek lover to some Roman emperor that Charlie had animatedly raved to him about on more than one occasion (Antinous was his name, he later came to learn and subsequently forget again). He reckoned such a reference would impress his boyfriend, but he was not sure if he’d be able to formulate it in a manner that conveyed it without being obscure or worse, unclear.
So he settled for letting his body do the talking; it was rather chatty tonight, after all.
Nick dragged one finger alongside the contours of Charlie’s jawline, tracing from his ear to near his chin. As cheesy as it felt, he thought the boy looked like he was carved out of marble (perhaps that’s why he settled for the comparisons to figures of antiquity). The features he traced were angular, sharp, hard. But he was all flesh, all blood, all alive, all his. The detour his finger made reminded him of that, as it trailed away from his chin, up against his lips. Soft and pliant, familiar and insatiable—Nick could never get enough of them. The pad of his finger swiped across the bottom lip, then slid into the air, cold and harsh compared to the inviting warmth of a face he loved.
For a split second, he swore he saw a fragment of his own reflection in Charlie’s eye. It was transfixed, stupefied, mouth agape and eyes lidded. Nick’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, breaking the spell. He pulled the boy even closer, trapping him in the slices of a reality that lived and breathed between their pupils. They didn’t look away, for this would mean that world would suffocate and disintegrate into the grey landscape around them. Colours were funny things, like that. They were so much brighter in spring, in Charlie Spring, than even the most daring plants in the languid summer that seemed to trudge on and on.
He didn’t want to share these colours with anyone else. But they were not his to possess, only to savour, to experience. But they weren’t ephemeral. Nick thanked the stars for that.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Charlie’s voice was barely above a whisper, hiding beneath the notes of background music.
“Mmm?” Nick swallowed again, closing his mouth. “Just savouring the moment.”
He leaned in, nuzzling against his boyfriend’s chest. “Savouring you. I don’t wanna forget tomorrow.”
“Sap,” his boyfriend retorted, lightly rapping against Nick’s ribs. “Just don’t drink anymore then.”
Nick opened his eyes, head turned to the side. He contemplated the can of beer laying down next to him for a second.
“What if I wanna drink you?” He pulled back, trying to re-enter that dimension they had carved out moments ago; he could not, for it had fractured and was gone. Still, he tried, and perhaps willed something similar, nigh identical into existence.
“God, you’re thirsty.” Charlie’s face had widened, smile shining brighter than the orange dot in the doldrums of the horizon, dimples magnets that pulled Nick’s ferrous fingers in as he cupped his chin.
“Can you blame a guy? You’re bloody delicious.”
They settled into one another again, lips first tenderly, then furiously exploring, searching, expressing. The act was accompanied by the choir of giggles, smiles, and a dry retching soloist, backed by Studio Killers’ Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship) as the beat to their symphony.
Even if tomorrow brought ruin, or more realistically, a knackering hangover, it mattered not now.
Only the music did.