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Chris’s head lolls to the side on the headrest, eyes drifting from Matt, who is talking about god knows what, to Nick, who is pressing his thumb to the cut on the inside of his mouth with a frown, pulling it away to furrow his eyebrows at the blood streaked across the pad. Part of him feels bad; making one of them bleed over stupid shit is normal, but that doesn’t mean he likes hurting them, but the rest of him is… curious, mostly.
It’s hard to tear his attention away from Nick’s mouth, and his brother catches on quickly, never one to miss something for long. “The fuck you lookin’ at, bitch?” Nick almost sneers, and his eyes are kind of stormy, which means he’s still pissed off at him for this, which is fine. Chris is well-versed in getting his brothers to forgive him when he fucks up.
Still, he can’t help the laugh his words pull free, head falling forward as he tries to rein it in, and laughing about it probably isn’t going to go far in getting back in Nick’s good graces. “Nothing! Nothing, I swear!”
“Damn straight,” Nick says haughtily, and when Chris drags his attention back to him, he’s once again dabbing at his lip with his thumb.
“Dude,” Chris reaches out before he can stop himself, which has Nick flinching for half a second, only for Chris to just grab him by the wrist and pull his hand away from his face. “Stop touching it.”
Nick’s eyes narrow. “What do you care? You’re the one who made me bleed in the first place! Profusely!”
Matt is giggling, Chris can hear him, but he’s too focused on Nick to care about their audience. “It’s not bleeding profuse—” Chris rolls his eyes, laughing despite himself. “You’re such a dramatic fuck, jeez,” he grumbles, even as he leans forward over the seat to release Nick’s wrist and instead gently tug his lip down to see for himself, much like Matt did mere minutes ago.
It’s not that bad, really, just a small cut where his teeth dug in, and it's not even bleeding that much either, the drama queen, but something about it…
“It’s not that bad,” Chris murmurs, thumb swiping gently over the wound. Blood streaks his skin, and he swallows, and is it too hot in here all of a sudden?
“I’m bleeding—”
“Guys—”
Ignoring them both, Chris decides to let the part of his brain that makes the verybadwrong things seem a little more enticing, a little more rational, drive him forward. His fingers brush up, palm cupping Nick’s cheek while his thumb holds his lip down, and he leans in, tongue flicking out to swipe over the cut before anyone can stop him.
Nick stills, and when Chris backs off to swallow the blood collected on his tongue —metallic, a little salty, and warm—, he looks… mostly surprised, and maybe a little intrigued, but who knows if that’s reality or just wishful thinking.
“Oh,” Matt breathes.
Chris’s eyes fall back to Nick’s mouth, still held open by his thumb, and he’s sure they’re all up to speed now but still no one stops him when he leans back in, which isn’t a good thing —is, in fact, a very bad thing— because he relies on them to stop him when he’s going too far and they’re not. This time, instead of backing off when his tongue grazes over the cut, Chris captures Nick’s lip with his own and sucks, groaning low in his throat at the taste of iron pulling from Nick’s mouth to his own.
A shuddering breath from Nick, his name uttered so quietly he thinks he might’ve imagined it, and then they’re kissing, which. Not exactly what Chris had been planning on, actually, but he’s not mad about it.
Like.
At all.
Chris hums in satisfaction, eyes closing as his attention slides from the cut to Nick’s mouth instead, body pressing further over the seat so he can cup the other side of his brother’s face and tilt, and it feels like the greatest gift of all when their lips slot together and Nick groans quietly in response. His body wavers, unsteady, but before he can pull back to right himself, a hand presses against his side to hold him up. Matt, he thinks, because there are fingers pushing up into his hair, and a palm cupping the side of his neck, and the reminder that Matt is still here, and watching, does awful terrible things to his brain.
He can’t forget what this started as, though, so Chris tongues the inside of Nick’s lip, whining a little at the taste because it’s Nick and he can’t not. There’s something a little heady about knowing he caused it, something that makes his head spin and his body fight to get closer and his teeth dig at Nick’s lip until he hisses and pushes him back.
“Hey! Careful, asshole!” Nick snaps, but Chris ignores him, tugging him back in.
To his credit, Nick only huffs in annoyance before letting him in, wincing in pain when Chris bites at his lip again but holding back on shoving him away. Satisfaction dances down his spine at that. He loves it when Nick lets him get away with shit.
He’s just licking into Nick’s mouth, tracing the back of his teeth eagerly, when they hear a loud bang from down the street that has them backing off as if burned, realising suddenly that they’re in public, and just about anybody could look in through the windows and see them.
Chris twists to look out the window, searching for the culprit, tensed up until Matt says softly, “Someone was just moving something. It’s safe.”
Turning back to his brother, Chris swipes his thumb across Nick’s bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispers sincerely. Nick makes a face.
“You’re a brat.”
It’s Matt dissolving in laughter beside them that finally has Chris pulling away with a roll of his eyes, his hands falling and arms returning to their rightful place in the front seat. He’s fully prepared to just clear his throat and move on from this, face warm as the reality of what he just did starts to sink in, but Nick catches him before he’s able to sink back down into the seat, fingers digging sharply into his jaw on either side and pulling him in.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he coos, and it’s almost mocking but not quite, and it has Chris swallowing thick in response. “We have to talk about this later, you know that right?” Nick tells him, and he’s dreading it as he nods, only then he’s not, because Nick is kissing him so hard his head dizzies and biting at his lip until he hisses in pain. “See how you like it,” he adds, and Chris grins in response, a little dazed.
“You totally like me, dude.”
Nick groans. “Shut up. I’m still mad at you.”