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Though maybe he should’ve, the last thing Nick expects for his birthday is to find his partner sitting in his bedroom, lounging in a cardigan with a glass of wine balancing precariously in his hand.
“If you get wine on my sheets, I’m gonna bill you for them,” Nick jokes, though even he can’t help the way his cheeks heat up on their own. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
“It’s your birthday,” Sparrow drawls, and he graciously sets the glass down on the nightstand as he slides upwards, stretching his arms out. The cardigan he’s wearing slides off of his shoulders, revealing the slight exposed ink across his shoulders and the thin, thin straps of the top he’s wearing underneath. “You really didn’t think I’d come over to say hi?”
“Sneaky,” Nick teases, even as he flushes a little harder at the sight. “Does your brother know you’re here?”
“Lark doesn’t keep track of my every move, what he won’t know won’t hurt him,” Sparrow snorts, and he bats his lashes at Nick, lips curling. “So how about you be a good boy and come over here, hm?”
Good boy.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Nick obeys, leaving his door swinging as he sheds his leather jacket off of his arms. He drops the jacket on the floor uncaringly, all but launching himself at his boyfriend just like the good boy Sparrow knows he can be.
Still, when he reaches the bed, he hesitates. It’s not like he doesn’t know that Sparrow wants this– in fact, Sparrow’s made it exceedingly obvious, being the horrible little flirt that he can be when he wants to be. But one of the things Sparrow seems to enjoy the most is when Nick asks for consent, so he sits at the edge of the bed, staring into Sparrow’s green, green eyes, searching.
“Can I?” he asks, softly. One of his hands reaches out to hover over Sparrow’s cheek, fingertips so close to touching that he can feel the static underneath them.
Surely enough, Sparrow’s own cheeks flush a bright red, and he nods, scooting backwards just enough so that Nick can fit perfectly against him if he wants.
And oh, does he want. Nick can’t remember a time where he didn’t crave Sparrow Oak-Garcia– at the very least, not since he was a lovesick teenager desperate to find a foothold in the human realm. It’s an itch that lays just beneath his skin, only satiated when he can be… well, here, pressed against Sparrow, holding him gently while also surging forwards, pressing fingertips into the exposed skin of his shoulders, hooking into his sides.
It’s almost not enough to kiss him. No, Nick needs to be encompassed by him, and he pushes forwards until he’s neatly pinned Sparrow to the back wall, kissing him as soon as he has permission to do so.
It’s something they had discovered a few months ago, when Nick had come back from Hell and Sparrow back from university. Nick’s always had quite the infatuation with both of the Oak-Garcia twins, but something about the way Sparrow had looked in the haze of cheap wine coolers and cigarette smoke when they were catching up with the others had Nick flushed and miserable all night.
And, evidently, Sparrow had noticed, and the Smirnoff had tasted better on his lips than it did out of the bottle.
From there on, it had been… easy. Nick thinks he’s always been attracted to the innate chaos that the twins had brought into his life. It had been the antithesis to everything he had been raised on, and while it had made him uncomfortable in his youth… well, it was a major turn-on now. And it definitely did not help that Sparrow had matured into a rebellious, teasing little shit, one that Nick was absolutely horrifically infatuated with.
And it all leads to this: Sparrow pinned to the wall, the blankets sprawled around him, his hair messy and tangled around Nick’s fingers, the makeup he had dutifully applied now smudged as Nick uses his free hand to caress Sparrow’s cheeks. Sparrow is gasping into the kiss, and he makes a keening whine in the back of his throat as Nick breaks it only to desperately catch the corners of his mouth, the upper edges of his neck.
“Ah,” Sparrow inhales, and one of his own hands carefully brushes through Nick’s hair, his hand keeping Nick in place, lips gently brushing at Sparrow’s neck,.
“Sparrow,” Nick whines.
“Give me a minute,” Sparrow says, and the breathy tone of his voice is just as addicting as the taste of him. His hand stays firmly planted, and Nick turns his nose into the warm skin, inhaling. “Don’t worry, though, you’re so…”
Nick hums, and he wants so badly to look upwards, to catch Sparrow’s brilliantly green eyes and see the want in them, the desire… but the urge to be good is stronger, so he stays put, nuzzling at Sparrow’s neck, feeling the way Sparrow breathes, methodical and slow.
After a few minutes of silence, Sparrow sighs, and he snickers, a smile in the laughter. “Thanks, starling,” he whispers, and Nick can feel the way each word vibrates in his throat– the sensation is overwhelming. “Okay, alright.”
“Are you okay though?” Nick questions, and he finally, reluctantly pulls himself from Sparrow’s neck to catch his gaze. “I don’t want to rush you–”
“-I’ll tell you when I’m overwhelmed, don’t worry.” Sparrow smiles, and the fondness in his eyes almost takes Nick aback– somehow, he hasn’t gotten used to the concept of being loved after all this time. “Today’s all about you.”
Hell. Nick can’t help it– he surges forwards, capturing Sparrow’s lips once again as his hands trail lower.
For a moment, he worries he’s overstepping. Sparrow’s picky about physical contact even on his best days, wanting to be close to people without actually letting them in. Nick’s spent the past few months memorizing the ways his partner wanted to be touched, exactly which buttons to press and which to leave well alone, how he can make Sparrow melt.
Certainly no easy task, but Nick’s never backed down from a challenge, and no challenge has been more thrilling or more satisfying than getting to map Sparrow Oak-Garcia like the world’s luckiest cartographer.
So he doesn’t linger long. Fingertips dance at the hem of Sparrow’s shirt, and then slip underneath, wandering as he presses closer, harder, their legs tangling together. Sparrow gives a throaty moan, and he wraps both arms around Nick’s neck, drawing him in.
It’s great. This is great. Nick can’t think of a better way to spend his birthday than right here, tangled in Sparrow’s arms, losing track of the time as he kisses and kisses and barely remembers to breathe. Does he even need to breathe? Can he not spend eternity right here?
Except maybe he pushes a little too hard, because Sparrow’s head hits the wall with a thump! and Nick immediately draws back, fretfully drawing his hands back to his own person. “Shit, you good?” he asks worriedly. “Maybe we shouldn’t be against the wall.”
“You say that like you weren’t the one to pin me here,” Sparrow snorts, and he leans forwards, pushing lightly at Nick’s shoulders.
Nick, ever so desperate to be good, goes willingly. He shifts his weight, and easily allows Sparrow to completely turn the tables, shifting them both so that Nick’s head lands in the pillows and Sparrow has a hand on his collarbone, his eyes dark and wanting.
The problem with this position is that now, Nick has no way of taking control, and he can’t help the low whine that escapes him when he realizes just how trapped he is. “Sparrow,” he gasps, but Sparrow merely puts a finger to his lips, shutting him up instantly.
“Don’t worry,” Sparrow croons, and he’s all but straddling Nick’s hips now, sitting neatly on top of him. “I’ve got you. You trust me, right?”
“With my life,” Nick breathes.
“Then be a good boy and sit still, okay?” Sparrow smiles sweetly, menacingly.
And when asked so politely, it’s all Nick can do to hold back the whine that threatens to escape him, and instead he just swallows thickly and nods, his gaze never straying from his partner even as Sparrow carefully slides the cardigan all the way off of him now, revealing the silky red blouse he’s donned for the occasion.
The cardigan is dropped on the bed next to them, and Sparrow’s reaching up to tie his hair into a messy ponytail, slowly, almost like he’s trying to put on a show.
And… well, it’s working. Nick swallows again. “You’re beautiful.”
Usually, this is when Sparrow says something witty in response, sly and smug and delectably sweet. Instead, Nick watches as the tips of his curved ears turn red, the shade enhancing the smattering of freckles across his nose.
Cute. Nick wants to lean up and capture each place the blush had kissed, but he’s still trapped and he wants to be good and so instead his lashes flutter, eyes going half-lidded, helplessly biting at the sides of his cheeks to prevent himself from squirming.
“You’re a sweet talker,” Sparrow accuses, though his tone is still bashful and shy.
“You never said I couldn’t use my words,” Nick reminds him, sticking out his tongue teasingly. “If you wanna shut me up, you better make me.”
“Is that a threat?” Sparrow challenges, and the shy look is gone, replaced by the confident, overly competitive Sparrow that Nick is far more familiar with.
Nick doesn’t even have the time to give a cheeky comment in response. He barely opens his mouth to take a breath and Sparrow’s dragging his thumb across the curve of his lips, brushing over his cheeks. Somehow, even that action manages to be sensual, and Nick shudders as Sparrow’s fingertips dance over his skin, toying with him.
It’s nice. Sparrow’s touch has always been a soothing balm, and Nick leans into it, sinking back into the pillows. And yet… it’s not enough. Sparrow’s playing with him, and Nick trusts him, he trusts him so much, but he wants…
he wants…
“...Sparrow, baby, please,” he manages to gasp, even as he struggles to reconnect with Sparrow’s gaze, eyes half-lidded. “Stop teasing me.”
“I told you to trust me,” Sparrow chides. “I didn’t think you’d be so needy.”
“But it’s my birthday!” Nick protests, and his hands clench at his sides– he doesn’t want to risk Sparrow pulling away altogether if he brings them up.
Sparrow just hums, that horrible little sound that signals mischief and a plan he’s about to unleash on the world. “Okay,” he says, a little too quickly. “You’re right. I’ll give you what you want.”
Nick beams, aglow with elation. “Really?”
And Sparrow smiles a wicked smile. “If you beg.”
Oh. He was going to do this the entire time, wasn’t he? Nick groans, squirming underneath his beloved’s gaze. “You’re horrible,” he complains. “You were planning this all along, weren’t you?”
“Mayhaps!” Sparrow says gleefully, and his fingers haven’t stopped moving, gently brushing over the corner of Nick’s lips in a way that has him shuddering. “Now come on, my love. You know what you want.”
It’s embarrassing, how quickly Nick cracks. “You,” he whispers, his voice strangled as he struggles to remember to breathe. “I want you, please, please kiss me.”
“Good boy,” Sparrow coos, and then he finally, finally leans down and actually kisses him again.
Nick could kiss Sparrow for hours. He thinks he does kiss him for hours: it’s easy to lose time here when he’s pressed against the pillows and blankets, all he can see and feel being his partner against him, Sparrow’s warmth encompassing all of Nick’s other senses.
Sparrow’s hands card through Nick’s hair, and Nick clings to his shoulders, his back, anything he can reach for purchase. This has to be what love feels like, he thinks. Sure, they haven’t been together for long, but Nick’s spent years wanting nothing more than the attention of someone who loved him– there’s a reason he melts so easily when Sparrow praises him.
Love. It feels like such a silly thing to want, and he never thought he’d find it here but that was Sparrow’s entire thing once, right? The memories are vague, blurred by time and magic, and yet maybe that’s what had initially drawn Nick to Sparrow over Lark, once upon a time. Here, Nick can let himself go, knowing that someone will be there to hold him, or press him against the bed– whichever he wants the most.
Eventually, though, the exhaustion of the day hits him, and as much as he’s enjoying his birthday surprise, he yawns, breaking the kiss much to his own disappointment.
“Tired?” Sparrow snorts bemusedly, and he pulls away just enough so that Nick can once again see the intense green of his eyes, his curls hanging in his face as he peers down at Nick with a lazy smile. “Thought I guess you would be– you spent today with your dad, right?”
“Yeah,” Nick nods, and he yawns again. “How long do I have you for?”
“As long as you want,” Sparrow answers, though he immediately grimaces. “I mean, I’ll have to go back to school eventually, but I’m yours for the night at least.”
“Perfect,” Nick smiles, and he stretches his arms out as Sparrow finally allows him to move. “I have some things in the top drawer that might fit you– to sleep in, if you want.”
“Aww, Nicky, letting me sleep in your clothes?” Sparrow slides off of Nick and back onto the floor, carefully reaching up and untying his hair before picking up his cardigan and moving it over to the dresser.
Logically, Nick should also get up and change into something comfier, but he can’t help but watch the way Sparrow walks across the room, his gaze lingering as his partner rummages through the drawer for the t-shirt and shorts that Nick had purposefully left for him to find.
It’s only when Sparrow winks at Nick before darting out of the bedroom to change that Nick gets up, changing out of his own clothes into something more comfortable as well. He has just enough time to climb back into bed when Sparrow reappears, and…
…well, if Nick wasn’t sure if he was in love with him before, he’s definitely in love with him here, decked out in Nick’s clothes, his hair braided over his shoulder to prevent the curls from being tangled in his sleep, his eyes a bright pop of color that enhance the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.
Beautiful. Even here, he is beautiful. Nick can’t help but stare, amazed.
“You know, I’m gonna have to steal this now, it’s far too comfy to give up,” Sparrow says shyly as he gingerly walks back across the room. All traces of the teasing monstrosity he becomes in the heat of the moment is gone; here, he’s flustered and sweet, quietly sitting in Nick’s bed and nestling up into his arms.
“But then you’ll have nothing to wear when you come over,” Nick protests.
“Guess I’ll just have to steal something else,” Sparrow teases, and they both laugh.
This is nice, too. Sure, it’s no passionate make-out, but it’s just as intimate; Sparrow in his arms, a precious gem that only Nick is allowed to have. Nick has never considered himself possessive before, but now?
He’d do anything to stay in this moment, to make it last forever.
“Happy birthday,” Sparrow whispers again, and Nick presses a kiss to his forehead, curling his arms around his partner and drawing the blankets around them. “Love you.”
Love you. Nick’s heart soars. “Love you too,” he whispers right back.
What a perfect end to his birthday. Nick truly wouldn’t have it any other way.