Archive of Our Own

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“Nick?”

“Charlie?” Somehow, his name sounds French. But maybe that’s just his roommate talking with a stuffy nose through a tiny speaker. Charlie immediately starts to worry.

“Nick? Did something happen? You don’t sound well?” Charlie holds his phone so tightly to his ear in an attempt to block out the surrounding noises that he’s sure it must have left an imprint.

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t know. I just woke up from a weird dream, I –” Nick’s words end in a cough so loud, Charlie jerks his phone back from his ear. He’s kinda impressed, given that he’s currently listening to a band known for their bass lines causing every blood cell in his body to vibrate enthusiastically. He doesn’t lower it though to not miss any of Nick’s next words. “I just wanted to check if everything is going alright?”

“You mean… at the concert?” Charlie can’t hold back the confusion in his voice. This doesn’t sound like an emergency, what is Nick on about?

“Yeah. I –,” Another coughing fit interrupts whatever Nick wanted to add.

“Nick, you should go back to sleep, you need it!”

“But, you know, you always say it helps when I’m there too so you can talk about what you see and hear and then you know better what to write about for your articles and I –”

Charlie chuckles. His best friend’s adorably ridiculous – he doesn’t know that Charlie made that up so Nick would keep on joining him for reasons definitely not related to work but rather to his crush and his preference to spend every minute of every day with his favourite person.

“Nick. We talked about it, I’m fine, I promise! I’ll manage to go to a concert by myself for once,” Charlie all but shouts into his phone when the finale of the song grows even more intense. It must sound harsher than intended because Nick immediately starts to backtrack.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I guess I’m a bit more clingy than usual. I just wanted to check – nevermind.”

“Nick, it’s all good! I mean it!” Charlie rushes to assure Nick, “Now go back to sleep, take some more medicine and hopefully, you'll feel better soon. You know I’ll stay at Tao’s tonight but will come home tomorrow around noon and –”

The rest gets lost even to his own ears in the roaring applause as the song ends. Charlie waits patiently until the loudest part is over and takes in a breath to –

“Who are you talking to on your phone during our date? That’s so rude!”

He spins around to see the face belonging to the impertinent voice and is even more irritated when he’s met with a guy winking at him.

Charlie hears a sharp intake of air on the other side of the phone. Fuck.

“What? Char, you’re on a date? Fuck, I didn’t know that, sorry, I just –”

“No, Nick, wait, don’t –,” Charlie yells but is only met with a faint beeping sound matching the beat of the next song starting that exact moment.

“Fuck,” Charlie groans. Now Nick’s not only sick and alone at home but also thinking that Charlie’s on a date. Which couldn’t be further from the truth, as the only person Charlie has on his mind pretty much constantly is currently lying in a bed in their shared flat suffering from a flu of the worst kind. Charlie tries to call Nick back but of course, it goes straight to voicemail. He looks up and sees the other man still standing there, eyeing Charlie curiously. He’s a bit smaller than Charlie, his burly figure hugged so tightly by his scarce clothing, it leaves very little to the imagination; his hair is gelled back and his smile obnoxiously suggestive. Charlie feels hot anger pulsate through his veins with every rapid beat of his heart and has to inhale slowly to calm himself and not immediately jump at this crazy stranger’s throat.

“What the fuck is your problem? Why did you do that? We don’t even know each other!” Charlie hisses through gritted teeth.

“Sorry!” The man holds his hands up in the typical ‘don’t be such a killjoy’ manner. “But that’s kinda the whole point!” He laughs smugly and leans closer as the song inconveniently starts to grow louder, “I wanted you to notice me and to tell you that I think you’re super hot!”

What?

Charlie pulls back. He refrains from propping his hands on his hips in the most annoyed manner but knows his face speaks volumes. “You thought it’s a good idea to make a move on someone during a phone call? Fuck you, that call was important!”

“It was just a joke to get your attention, didn’t know you’d piss your panties. Was it your partner on the phone?” 

Charlie’s heart stutters for a few beats; it’s a question that’s always echoing with a tender ache in his chest whenever he’s asked if he and Nick are together. He’d want nothing more than to be able to say a firm yes.

“No,” he admits, hating his own defeated tone, “It was my roommate.”

“So I don’t see your problem? Can I buy you a drink now?” The stranger asks, hot air tickling Charlie’s ear rather unpleasantly as the other man leans closer again. Charlie pulls back at once, his eyes growing wide at the audacity. He can only shake his head no. Really not.

“Ah.” There’s a knowing smirk on the other man’s – admittedly – handsome face.

“What?” It comes out less as a question and more as an annoyed statement.

“You want them to be your partner.”

Well, yes.

“That’s none of your business.” Charlie juts out his chin, daring the other man to shut up.

Which he doesn’t. Twat.

“I knew it. Is he hotter than me?” the stranger asks, leaning close again as if trying one last time. Charlie steps back.

He slowly nods , hotter than anyone, actually. He bites his lips as his mind unhelpfully wanders to its favourite place where it loves to reminisce about every beautiful little detail of Nick’s body; his strong arms, his toned chest, his abs, the tantalising slope leading to his –

The other man snorts loudly, effectively pulling Charlie back into the booming present.

“Jesus, you’re so gone on him,” he laughs, not unkindly, “Now, grow a pair and tell him as much. Good luck, bye!”

Charlie’s mouth falls open as his cheeks grow warm and he lifts his hand to finally flip the other man off. The gesture only meets a retreating back as the other man’s already walking towards the bar, but it lets him feel a tad more in control of the situation.

“Asshole,” Charlie mutters to himself while trying to call Nick again. Still no luck. He checks the time and the list of tracks in his hands and sees that there’s only two songs left in the band’s set. ‘I’ll just have to work with what I have,’ he thinks, turns on his heels, glares in the general direction of the bar once again for good measure and heads out of the club as fast as possible. If he legs it, he should make one of the last trains back to Leeds.

With a minute to spare, he lets himself fall into the plush seats of the British Railway and calls his friend Tao to explain the situation and why he has to postpone their meet-up. He hears him roll his eyes even through the phone but bribes him successfully with the promise of not complaining about his next 5 movie choices for their upcoming film nights.

Charlie ends the call with Tao and tries it again with Nick – it’s again in vain. With a sigh, he slips his phone into the pocket of his trousers and blindly stares out the window into the black void surrounding his journey, tapping the beat of one of tonight's songs on his thighs. What a mess. He knew he shouldn’t have left a sick Nick alone at home to begin with but not only did the other man reason that Charlie shouldn’t miss a paid concert and money for his article and upset Tao because of him, he also persuaded Charlie that he would just sleep and that it wasn’t that bad anyway. Which was clearly a lie, if the strange phone call was anything to go by. 

And then this bellend yelling into Charlie’s phone, letting Nick think Charlie’s on a date. As if. Not that there hadn’t been any guys – and, always to Charlie’s biggest surprise, girls – interested in him. But ever since he’d opened the door all these months ago to his newly assigned roommate Nicholas Nelson, Charlie’s interest had solely been focused on the amber-eyed, golden-freckled and gorgeously-sculpted man standing in front of him, sporting a charmingly lopsided smile.

For six and a half hours, Charlie had thought that Nick would just be another, if not exceptionally handsome, addition to his collection of straight-boy crushes – but then he’d been lured into the other man’s room by his marvellously rippling muscles on display from hanging up fairy lights above a brightly coloured painting of the bisexual flag. Nick’s initial smirk at catching Charlie staring suddenly grew apprehensive and he’d asked if that would be a problem for Charlie, gesticulating to the art. Charlie hadn’t been able to contain his giggle at the absurdity of the question – in no world would Nick being bi be a problem for Charlie. It had taken Nick’s expression slowly morphing into fear for him to blurt out, “I’m super gay so it’s anything but a problem!”. To emphasise his gayness, he’d even let his gaze linger on the strong shoulders for a tad too long – though that would’ve probably happened anyway since he hadn’t been able to tear away his gaze ever since he’d laid his eyes on the other man and his now scarcely clad upper body.

After that, they’d hit it off like a house on fire and Charlie had caught himself wondering more than once at how’d he’d gotten so lucky to have been paired with such a kind-hearted, open-minded and caring roommate he’s now calling his best friend.

And love of his life, but that’s another topic. One he hasn’t dare approach for what feels way too long now. 

In the early stages, he didn’t want to taint their growing friendship with his silly crush. Then he hadn’t been sure enough if his skyrocketing feelings were reciprocated and just tried to enjoy Nick’s affectionate behaviour for what it was. Nick holding Charlie tightly to soothe his nerves before a presentation? Normal, they hugged all the time. Nick falling asleep on Charlie’s shoulder after hiding there during a scary movie? Happens to everyone, it’s dark there after all. Nick checking in with Charlie to be able to help him during bad brain days? Well, that’s what really, really good friends do, right? Even though none of his other friends had made such great efforts before. Still. Friends, right?

Other, pretty similar moments now try to bubble up their way into Charlie’s consciousness, but he pierces them all with ignorance; he never allows his mind to linger on them for too long. They’ve both teetering on that particular brink for such a long time now, their dance around the line they never cross so tiring that Charlie has to stop his hopes from flying too high in order to not lose his mind.

So yeah, maybe they’re both a little stupid.

The words of the stranger from the concert rush back into Charlie’s mind unbidden – now grow a pair and tell him as much!

As if that’s so easily done! Charlie wouldn’t consider himself partially shy when it came to flirting with interested men but then again, he’d never been on the receiving end of the unbridled attention of one Nick Nelson – unbearably hot, funny and kind – before. Not to mention him being his best friend, his person. And roommate. What if Charlie’s love confession would make Nick feel uncomfortable and lead to him breaking off their living situation and – way worse – their friendship? 

The chance that Nick doesn’t feel the same is small – and Charlie kinda knows that (and is told this by their friends repeatedly) – but exists nonetheless and that’s what makes him hesitate time and time again. Also, why doesn’t Nick make the first move?

Grow a pair.

Charlie groans. Then jerks his head to see if someone has been witnessing his loud display of despair. Why had this rando at the concert gotten to him? He shakes his head, pops in his headphones to listen to the band he’d seen playing live tonight and starts writing his article as a way of distraction. But his mind keeps straying to the words of the stranger.

Maybe he’s right after all?

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Upon opening the door to their flat, Charlie’s greeted with quiet groans of the not-enticing kind. Poor Nick. In the middle of toeing off his shoes, Charlie stops, thinking he’s heard Nick calling his name. Strange, Nick doesn’t know I’m home.

“Charlie, no. Don’t go, stay!” This time, Charlie hears it clearly, even though the words come out slurred. Nick’s obviously dreaming too vividly to hold in sounds.

Silently, Charlie makes his way to Nick’s room and peeks around the corner of the open door. The light from the hallway falls on Nick’s bed where the other man tosses his head restlessly, his hands coming up weakly as if to keep something from slipping, his expression desperate despite his closed eyes.

“Stay, I need you. Charlie. Char, please,” Nick sounds close to tears and Charlie can’t take it anymore, screw catching whatever Nick has, that will be future-Charlie’s problem.

He’s at Nick’s side in two strides, opens the window above Nick’s bed a tad and lowers down on his knees to be even with his face. He reaches out and takes hold of a flailing hand while he lays his other gently on Nick’s forehead to check his temperature. Nick’s skin’s damp and scorchingly hot. Shit.

Nick stills immediately and leans into Charlie’s touch, a gesture so innocent and adorable, Charlie’s heart swells twice its size despite the worry. Nick opens his eyes slowly, his gaze unfocused, darting all over Charlie’s face.

“Charlie? You’re home?”

“Obviously,” Charlie chuckles lowly, watching his own thumb stroking down Nick’s delicate nose soothingly, smoothing Nick’s frown.

“You kept slipping through my fingers, I thought I lost you.”

Huh? Charlie’s gaze returns to Nick’s, his usually warm, light-brown eyes are glazed over and almost entirely black.

“Nick, I think your fever is even higher than when I left, I’ll definitely call the doctors if we can’t reduce it by the morning. Let me get you some more medicine and we –“

“No, Char, don’t leave me, I’m not sick, I swear!” Nick’s words are betrayed by a coughing fit that rivals the motor of an oldtimer stuttering his last breaths. Charlie grimaces, he’s definitely next in line catching this flu.

“Nick, you are sick. I’m only going to the bathroom; I’ll be back in seconds!”

Charlie squeezes the hand he’s still holding before he lets go to hold Nick’s heated face with both hands. Nick’s eyes close upon the contact and he smiles weakly.

“That feels nice, Char. I’m so glad you’re here and didn’t leave me. I’m so glad you’re still my boyfriend.”

What?

His shock must’ve translated to the grip he has on Nick because the other man opens his eyes upon having his face squished.

“I thought I lost you,” Nick mumbles, sounding even more stuffy and close to tears again, “I’m so glad you’re back, I love you so much.”

Nick’s last words are slurred again, as if losing the fight to unconsciousness, his whole body slackening, his eyes closing. Reluctantly, Charlie lets go and leans back on his heels.

What the actual fuck? Am I feverish, too? Charlie touches his own forehead to compare their temperatures. No, he’s not.

Okay, logic. Nick’s clearly been stuck in the strange limbo of fever dreams, where weird panics and surreal worlds collide.

But.

He told Charlie he loved him and called him his boyfriend, that’s gotta mean something, right? Drunken words are sober thoughts, does that apply to fever words, too? Charlie’s chest is a weird place of feelings while his mind cheers fuck yes, pretty please on repeat.

He really wants this particular glass to be half-full.

Charlie lets himself fall on his butt and buries his head in his hands. What a night. He needs to know if Nick meant what he said. Does he really love him? Charlie feels his heart jackrabbiting in his chest with all the ambiguous possibilities, feels his breathing grow shallow, feels his muscles tensing.  

Charlie gets up as quietly as possible, slinks out of Nick’s room and practically runs to the bathroom, tears open the window and lets crisp night air fill his lungs with desperate inhales. Calm washes over him as the scent of spring starts permeating his whole being, the familiar sweet spiciness of freshly blooming vegetation mingling with cold soil dearly missed during the cold winter months.

He closes his eyes and focuses on counting his breaths until he can’t keep his mind from wandering to my boyfriend and I love you so much anymore.

He’s wished to hear these words desperately for so long now that actually hearing them has him almost acting like a smitten schoolgirl, giggling and twirling his curls – if it weren’t for these uncertain circumstances they’re currently in. Did Nick mean them in any real capacity? Or were they solely a misguided product of his fever riddled mind? How should Charlie proceed from now on? Tell Nick about it when he comes back to his senses? Keep quiet about it?

With surprise, he notes that he doesn’t want the last option; the combination of little sleep, ‘Grow a pair’ and ‘I love you so much’ even igniting a wondrous, if not slightly exasperated curiosity in him – one that finally and really wants to know if his suspicion of mutual pining and longing are real.

He sighs, reminding himself of the reason he went to the bathroom instead of his room in the first place and opens the cabinet above the sink to get the much-needed packet of paracetamol. He takes a flannel from its hook and holds it under ice-cold water and makes a detour to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water before he returns to Nick – who still seems to be caught in the endless turmoil of yet another feverish dream, if his heavy breathing, soft groans and unintelligible words are anything to go by. He puts the pills and water on Nick’s bedside table and crouches down again, putting the wet flannel on Nick's blazing-hot forehead.

“Nick,” Charlie whispers and repeats it gradually louder, until Nick finally seems to return from the world inbetween.

“Charlie? You’re here?”

This time, Charlie just hums his affirmation. He’s not sure if Nick really heard him because he keeps talking.

“Or am I dreaming? I guess I’m still dreaming. You’re at Tao’s… and you had a date.”

No! Charlie wants to yell but the sadness in Nick’s voice paralyses es his ability to speak. Nick looks at him, something distant unfurling in his dazed gaze. But it’s quickly replaced with self-satisfied surprise.

“I must be very good at fever dreaming, it really feels like something cold is touching my skin!”

A soft giggle escapes Charlie’s lungs, this silly boy. It loosens the lump in his throat.

“That’s because me and the flannel on your forehead are real, you numpty,” Charlie murmurs, his words betrayed by his utterly fond tone. Nick grimaces.

“I wish you were. But you’re on a date. I want to go on a date with you, you know? I should’ve told you, then maybe you wouldn’t have gone on a date with somebody else. I’m so in love with you and now I can never tell you. I can’t lose your friendship, too.” 

Oh. Are they fighting the same inner turmoils?

Fever-dreamed words or not, they engulf Charlie's heart, freeze it and shatter it into a thousand pieces. He inhales shakily and reaches out to hold Nick’s hand again.

“Nick, you’re not losing me, I wasn’t on a date. I– I don’t, I–, oh, fuck sake, screw it… I’m in love with you too and I don’t want to date anyone but you. You have to believe me!”

Nick just smiles softly and oh so happily as his eyes slowly flutter closed – and he’s gone again. Charlie lets his head fall on the edge of Nick’s mattress and wonders briefly, what – if anything – will stick with Nick after he’s recovered. Would Charlie have to shoulder the overwhelming knowledge of their conversation alone? That’s not how he’d imagined them to confess their undying love to each other. He’d also very much preferred to seal the deal with a kiss – but that particular bit’s probably okay to be postponed, given Nick’s current state.

Suddenly, he remembers the reason why he’d woken up Nick in the first place. Charlie groans once more, trying to prepare himself for their next conversation, lifts his head and reaches out to gently nudge Nick’s shoulder until the other man opens his eyes again.

“Char? You’re here?” Charlie briefly wonders if every wake-up resets Nick’s mind so they can have the same conversation over and over again. He’s too slow to reply this time.

“Why are you here? Aren’t you at Tao’s? Am I really dreaming you into my bed?”

Despite it all, Charlie snorts. “No, Nick, I’m real and here. And helping you take your meds. Can you sit up?”

Nick just looks up at him in wonder. “How’s it possible that you're here? I just called you, can you teleport?”

Counting on Nick’s fever riddled mind to forget anything anyway, he just nods as earnestly as possible. “Yes Nick, I invented it just so I can come and take care of you. Now, sit up, please?”

Nick smiles his soft, lopsided smile, the one Charlie loves the most, and slowly turns to his side, groaning and complaining but complying, his careful shuffling utterly endearing to Charlie. He shakes his head about his own love-riddled mind and reaches out to help Nick to finally get into the desired position. The fabric clinging tightly to Nick’s body is damp, his body so hot it’s glowing but he’s shaking vigorously. Charlie hands him the pills but forgoes giving him the glass of water in his hands and instead holds it to Nick’s lips. He watches Nick swallow it all obediently.

“Good boy,” Charlie says and instantly cringes. What the hell, he’s not Nick’s mother and they’re definitely not at that sort of stage in their relationship. Nick's left eyebrow shoots up but his attempted smirk is merely a repeated twitching of lips. His head lolls to the side and his eyelids are fluttering as if it takes all his power to stay awake.

“Lay down again, Nick, you need to sleep.”

“Will you stay? Or will you teleport back?”

Charlie huffs out a laugh but can’t help it, his hand reaches out to cup Nick’s heated cheek soothingly and really tries not to coo when Nick, again, leans into his touch. 

“I’ll stay, don’t you worry. I’m here, I’m not gonna leave you, baby.”

Baby. Fuck. He lets go of Nick’s face.

The other man’s first reaction is an honest-to-god whine upon the loss of contact but then something seems to click and suddenly, his smile matches the temperature of his body, it’s as bright as the sun. They hold their gazes for the whole time it takes for Nick to lay down again. “Ouchy, fuck, my head,” he groans when his head hits his pillow, squeezes his eyes shut and turns towards the wall, their moment obviously gone.

“He called me baby, maybe he loves me too,” Nick mumbles, the last syllables mingling with a happy sigh that shoots right into Charlie’s heart.

Charlie presses the heels of his hands on his eyes until he sees sparks. They really need to talk or else Charlie will combust.

He gets up, scurries to his room, changes into his pyjamas, grabs his duvet and pillow and sneaks back into Nick’s room. He checks on Nick who’s finally sleeping peacefully and feels slightly less scolding to the touch. He still worries though, so he goes back to the bathroom to cool the flannel with cold water and puts it back on Nick’s forehead before he makes himself comfortable on his roommate's plush carpet.

He wills his mind to be quiet, the worry for his friend and his feverish confession forming a battle between mind and heart. He tries to focus on Nick’s steady breathing and soft snoring instead. Nick’s going to be fine and we'll talk tomorrow.

🍂🍂

“Char?”

Charlie hums in response, not quite sure if he’s sleeping or awake, strongly preferring the former and very much not ready to open his eyes yet.

“Charlie, why are you sleeping on my floor?”

He stirs awake upon realising it’s the latter and can’t hold back a yawn. He blinks, it’s still dark around them, the dim beam of a street lamp outside Nick’s window a meagre source of light.

Slowly, everything comes back and he sits up with a start so quick, he feels dizzy. He’s met with a dishevelled Nick sitting on the edge of his bed, obviously having wanted to get up before noticing Charlie. He looks exhausted, the circles under his eyes form a stark contrast to his pale face; his usually dark-blonde hair now almost black from sweat, is plastered to his forehead and sticking up at odd angles from the rest of his head. Their tired gazes linger for a long while.

“Nick? How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think?” Nick chuckles hollowly. It morphs into a coughing fit instantly which Nick tries to intercept with the crook of his elbow. Charlie instinctively pulls his duvet over his face even though he knows that if he were to become infected, this has already happened, with him sharing the air with a sick Nick for hours now.

“I do feel better though,” Nick says once he’s gained his voice back, “I don’t feel like I’m being cooked alive while drowning in a frozen lake anymore.”

“You’ve successfully avoided death then, I see,” Charlie can’t help but tease and it earns him a nudge into his duvet-covered hip from Nick’s foot.

“Shut up, I really felt like I was dying last night.”

“Yup. You were not your usual cheery self, I can confirm.”

Nick half-heartedly flips him off and for a few moments they smile at each other in the dimness of the room and something softens around them. Charlie wonders if Nick remembers anything at all but doesn’t dare to ask just yet.

“Seriously though, why are you sleeping on my floor?”

Oh. He doesn’t remember. Charlie feels a bit like crying but puts up what he hopes is a convincing smile.

“You asked me to stay.”

“I asked you to sleep on the floor? Oh my gosh, Char, I’m so sorry, you didn’t–“

“No, Nick, stop!” Charlie smiles at his friend, “I decided to do that because I was worried about you, your fever seemed pretty high and I wanted to be near you in case it worsened again.” 

Nick’s quietly watching him, something playing out on his face that Charlie can’t quite decipher in the almost-darkness.

“Thank you,” Nick whispers after a moment, “It– umm. It means a lot.” 

Charlie waves it off and stays silent, not really in the mood to reveal more of their conversation as sort of an explanation.

“I feel so gross, I need a shower,” Nick says a bit later as he gets up – and falls right back on his butt with a groan. 

“Fuck, dizzy, head hurts,” he mutters as he tries to stabilise his weight with his arms on the mattress behind himself, his eyes squeezed shut. 

Charlie gets up as fast as his tortured body allows and stands in front of his friend, holding out his hands to help him up. “Come on, old man, let me get you to the bathroom,” he offers, snickering when it earns him a one-eyed glare.

“Fuck off. But yes, please,” Nick says and takes a hold of Charlie’s hands. And it’s not like they haven’t touched before, quite the contrary with Nick being a very tactile person and Charlie craving it with him. Still, after last night, it has a new meaning to Charlie and he feels little sparks igniting goosebumps on his skin. He tries not to pay attention to it and yanks Nick up – who crushes into him with no small amount of force. With an arm full of weak Nick, Charlie now actually smells him. It helps to temper down his excitement and he can’t stop his nose from wrinkling in slight disgust.

“You stink,” he says with as much love as he can muster.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Nick deadpans, already trying to pull back from their impromptu embrace, “Even I can smell it through my stuffy nose.” As if on cue, he sneezes one-two-four times with vigour, shaking Charlie off his body in the process, and blows his nose so loudly, Charlie’s sure even Tao all the way in Manchester heard it. 

He waits patiently, trying to reign in his smitten mind that finds this whole ordeal way too endearing. Once Nick's tired body has recovered from the sneezing fit, Charlie slowly places his arm back around his best friend’s waist and they shuffle the short distance to the bathroom. Nick leans into him and Charlie can’t help but pull him even closer.

The stranger from last night had been right, he really is so gone on Nick that he doesn’t want to let go of him even in this sick, smelly and grumpy state.

“You sure you’re fine?” Charlie asks once they’re standing in the middle of the blindingly bright bathroom, both of them blinking with small eyes, Nick scrunching up his face in obvious pain.

“Why, you want to help me?” Nick asks after a few adjusting beats and turns to look at Charlie, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as something new flickers in his eyes. Oh? It’s gone as fast as it appeared and they both blush.

Charlie blames Nick’s fever and averts his gaze to the door with a deflecting chuckle. “I’ll change your bed sheets in the meantime, is that okay?”

“You- you don’t have to do that.” Nick’s voice is quiet and he intently watches his toes tap a nervous beat on the bathroom tile. Charlie squeezes his waist once before he lets go.

“It’s okay, I want to. We take care of each other, don’t we?”

Nick reaches out and takes Charlie’s hand in his, squeezing back. “We do. Thank you, I really don’t take it for granted.”

“I know. Now shower, smelly cat.”

Nick salutes, “Aight, Phoebe.”

Charlie laughs, rolls his eyes for good measure and closes the door behind him. He leans against it with a long exhale before he shakes his head and mind back into calmness, don’t read too much into anything Nick says. He pushes himself off the wood and goes back to Nick’s room.

He flicks on Nick’s chain of light above his bed, opens the window of the stuffy room and takes a moment to let the cold air soothe him, closing his eyes. When he hears the water of the shower start to run, he goes to where Nick stores his sheets and lets muscle memory take over for the mundane task. Nick seems much more alert now but he’s probably still suffering from a high temperature, Charlie hasn’t checked his temperature yet. So maybe it would be safer to wait until they have slept some more before they have an important conversation like this? Also, he has no idea how to approach the subject, he can’t just bring Nick tea and toast to his bed this morning and greet him with ‘oh, by the way, we both declared our love to each other last night, don’t know if you remember? Did you mean it or were you just delirious when you had a high temperature?’

Yeah, no. He sighs when he hears the water being turned off, closes the window, goes to the kitchen to refill Nick’s glass of water and sits down on the floor on his own mess of sheets as he waits.

He looks up when he hears footsteps in the hallway – and regrets it instantly. It’s Nick, yes, but he’s only wearing a towel slung haphazardly around his hips, water dripping from his still wet hair onto his shoulders immersed in the aureate glow of Nick’s fairy lights; each droplet taking an equally tantalising way down his gorgeous chest and Charlie has a hard time deciding which path of liquid gold to follow. 

“Forgot clothes,” Nick mumbles, rummaging through his drawers and Charlie’s left to admire the same spiel on Nick’s back. Fuck my life, he really hopes Nick meant his words, he wants nothing more than to be allowed to let his fingers accompany the water droplets’ journey. It’s over as quickly as it started and Nick’s out of the room again.

Charlie clutches his non-existing pearls and almost whistles. What a spectacular view at 5 am in the morning; obviously slightly too much for his poor gay heart. He shakes his head and lays down to stare at the ceiling until Nick returns – fully clothed this time, Charlie notices out of the corner of his eye.

Nick falls on his bed heavily, shimmies under the fresh covers and turns to look at Charlie, something hopeful playing out on his dimly lit face.

“Feeling better now?” Charlie asks to break the silence.

“Yeah. Thank you, Char, I really appreciate you so much,” Nick replies quietly and something in his tone makes Charlie's heart jump into his throat. No, not now, sleep first.

He sits up quickly to check Nick’s forehead again, Nick’s eyes following his every movement – until they fall closed upon Charlie’s touch. Nick’s skin is still hot, but not that concerningly anymore.

“You should take some more medicine, it’s been 4 hours since you last took it,” Charlie suggests, already reaching over for the pills and the water.

Nick sits up again and does as he’s told without saying a word, his eyes firmly trained on Charlie once more. When he lays down again, Charlie hears him inhale deeply.

“Will you stay anyway?” Nick asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “You don’t have to, of course, I don’t want you to have to stay on the floor. I’d invite you to sleep in my bed with me but I know I’m sick and you might not want that. It’s just I feel –”

“Nick,” Charlie says a tad too loudly to stop his friend’s ramblings, “It really is okay, I’m already comfy on your floor, I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay.” 

“Thank you, I owe you big time,” Nick mumbles, his words slurred and Charlie can tell he’s on the verge of falling asleep again, “Good night, Char, I love you.”

Oh. Nick isn’t that feverish anymore, Christ, he was even alert enough to want to shower. Does that mean…

Charlie lays awake for a long while before sleep finally takes over.

🍂🍂

Sunbeams have found their way through Nick’s blinds when Charlie wakes again. He refuses to open his eyes, the soft orange glow permeating his eyelids enough for now, and takes his time to stretch his every limb carefully. Nick’s carpet is softer than expected but he still notices the lack of his usual mattress in his bones. Suddenly, he feels watched and opens his eyes at once. Sure enough, he’s met with his favourite lopsided smile which he answers instantly with his own.

“Hi,” they both say at the same time.

“How do you feel?” Charlie asks for what feels like the umpteenth time in the past 30 hours.

“So much better, thank you,” Nick replies, his voice husky. He coughs, sniffles and clears his throat.

“How are you? I watched you stretching like a cat, it was quite adorable!”

Charlie blushes harder the wider Nick’s grin grows. “Shut up,” he mumbles and briefly hides his face in his hands. Adorable.

Nick’s expression sobers. “I’m sorry I asked you to stay, I know you’re too kind to say no when I’m sick and now–”

“Nick! Stop it, we’ve been over this before,” Charlie chuckles, “Your carpet is surprisingly comfortable.”

They both look at each other and smile; Nick’s gaze is so intense, Charlie’s unable to tear his eyes away. Something unspoken travels between them but Charlie’s lacking too much coffee to understand it properly. First things first.

“Do you feel like eating? I could make us tea and coffee, toast and some fruits?”

“I’d love that. But I can do it by myself, no worry, I don’t–”

“Nick.” Charlie hears the mixture of exasperation and fondness colouring this one word and blushes, “It’s fine, I’m your nurse for the time being, now stop apologising.”

“The best nurse one could wish for. Thank you, Char.”

“You’re welcome. You can promise to take care of me when I catch your cold, if it makes you feel any better.”

“I promise, of course I will! We take care of each other, didn’t we already agree to that last night?”

Charlie chuckles as he gets up and gathers his bedding to move it back to his own room. It takes him until the first round of toast is popping out of their toaster for Nick’s words to fully register in his brain. Nick remembers what they’ve been talking about last night!

He stops in his tracks, suddenly unsure how to proceed from here. Just how much does Nick remember? Should Charlie just ask him outright? And what if he meant what he said last night and their feelings really are mutual  – what happens with their first kiss when Nick still feels badly? Should they throw all caution to the wind and kiss anyway? He’s spent the night in a room full of germs, what’s trading them with a kiss gonna change?

He shakes his head at his overly optimistic self but can’t contain a low giggle, he feels so giddy at all the possible prospects, he has to do a little dance in their kitchen to get rid of the energy, the sound of the whistling kettle as his background music.

Fuck, is this really finally happening?

He’s slightly unsteady with the rest of his task and his hold on the tray is less than ideal but he makes it to Nick’s room without accident or too much clattering. The other man has his eyes closed and looks so peaceful, Charlie halfway expects him to have fallen asleep again. For a moment, he allows himself to just watch him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest; the way his one hand rests above his head, showing his bicep, a tuft of reddish hair peeking out from under his sleeve; his back-to-strawberry-blonde hair framing his face beautifully.

He feels fondness spreading on his face and wants nothing more than to join Nick on his bed and hold him close. Do not get ahead of yourself. They’re not there yet. Yet.

Charlie steps forward and puts the tray on Nick’s desk, the gentle jingle alerting Nick. He opens his eyes slowly, turns to his side to easier get into an upright position and pats the mattress next to him once he’s leaning on his headboard. He hands Nick his mug and a plate with toast and fruits, fetches his own before he joins Nick on the mattress and for a while, they just sit there vis-à-vis of each other, sipping and munching on their breakfast in comfortable silence. Charlie’s nervous and stomachs only one piece but oh well, it’s better than nothing. He’s in the middle of gathering his courage when Nick speaks up.

“How was your date?” He asks, looking at Charlie expectantly and only because Charlie’s so attuned to him, he notices the vulnerability disguised with nonchalance. Doesn’t he recall everything after all? Time to find out.

“You remember that you called me then?”

Nick nods and blushes slightly.

“What else do you remember?”

“I’m not sure, a lot of it is blurry and I’m not sure what’s dream and what’s reality, honestly. I remember thinking I dreamed you here into my room but then you were suddenly really here when I went for the shower and now I don’t know anymore. I’m starting to think that nothing’s been a dream. Well, apart from you literally slipping through my fingers, that had to be a dream since you’re solid and not liquid.” He finishes with a low embarrassed chuckle, averting his gaze to the mug still resting in his hands. Charlie watches him take in a deep breath as if to gather courage and suddenly, their gazes are connected again.

“It wasn’t a date? Do I remember this correctly?” The hope in Nick’s eyes is unmistaken to Charlie’s heart. He shakes his head.

“No, it wasn’t, of course it wasn't! It was just a moron yelling into my phone to get my attention. He wanted to buy me a drink but I declined, all I could think about was you, Nick. You have to believe me.”

“Oh,” Nick blushes, a small but quite pleased smile on his lips, “Thank you for telling me. I was really heart-,” Nick stops himself. “I was a bit surprised you didn’t tell me about it before you left the flat last night so I turned off my phone. I didn’t want to hear more. I’m sorry,” Nick trails off, taking another sip of his tea, “I’m sorry I guilt tripped you into coming home by doing that. I’m sure Tao hates me now.”

Charlie puts his plate and mug on Nick’s bedside table and reaches out to Nick to squeeze his hand. “You didn’t guilt trip me in the slightest and I know how to bribe Tao to not hate either of us. I shouldn’t have left you alone in the first place, but I was convinced you wanted to be alone. Well, until the phone call.”

Nick groans, lets his own mug follow Charlie’s and covers his face in his now free hand.

“God, I’m so embarrassing and clingy when sick!” 

“I thought it was kinda cute,” Charlie admits, his giddy feeling returning the longer they talk. “What else do you remember?”

Nick peeks at him through his middle- and index-finger.

“A lot. But I’m not quite sure what I mentioned aloud and what was in one of my weird dreams.” He slowly lowers his hand, his eyes flickering over Charlie’s face as if searching for something and Charlie tries to smile as encouragingly as his anticipation allows. He’s not sure he succeeds as he’s practically vibrating out of his skin.

“I think I was relieved that you came home to me, that I didn’t lose you,” Nick finally says, his voice low, his cheeks pink.

Charlie’s smile grows. “And you were happy that I'm still your boyfriend,” he can’t help but tease.

Nick’s blush spreads as it turns a deeper shade of red.

“So I did say that out loud. Jesus. I guess adding fever to my usual daydreaming peaks with me believing it all came true.”

Oh? 

Nick’s gaze flickers from Charlie’s face to the window. He closes his eyes, presses his lips into a thin line as his hand finds its well-known way to the back of his head in his tell-tale gesture of shyness, one that’s very dear to Charlie’s heart. But before he can react, Nick’s eyes find Charlie’s again, golden sparks of shy amusement melting into brown. 

“What about wishing it was me who’s on a date with you?”

Charlie confirms it with a nod.

“You inventing teleportation?”

Charlie snorts. “I’m impressed, I wasn’t sure you’d remember anything at all.”

“A part of me wishes for that to be real, not gonna lie.” Nick’s blush speaks of his embarrassment but his smile conveys so much more; there’s longing laced with relief and hope – and Charlie’s sure he looks just the same. It gives him the courage to ask, “But the other part?” with a voice barely above a whisper.

“The one that confessed my love for you?” Charlie’s heart bursts with happiness at how confident Nick asks this, there isn’t a trace of hesitation in his voice to find. They are on the same page.

So he just hums his yes, not wanting to break whatever spell Nick’s words put them under. They look at each other and Charlie’s able to watch Nick’s expression grow impossibly tender.

“The one that heard you being in love with me?”

Charlie bites his lip. This is it. He nods gingerly and waits until Nick’s gaze snaps back up from his mouth. He lays his hand on the mattress, palm up, and Nick immediately understands, a warm hand meeting his own, nervously cold one, intertwining their fingers. The touch settles something deep in Charlie and he feels emboldened.

“You know,” he starts, “I wasn’t the one having a fever and I wasn’t drunk at all, so I really need to know: did you mean any of what you said last night?”

“Of course I do, Char,” Nick replies so fast, their words mingle. It causes them both to huff out a small laugh and break a bit of the anticipatory tension that had taken a hold of them.

“It’s – well.” Nick stops himself, shakes his head and averts his gaze to their still intertwined hands. Charlie squeezes Nick’s which seems to give him the last needed push because when Nick looks up again, he looks nothing short of determined.

“It’s not how I wanted to tell you, you have to believe me. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever tell you, honestly. I was so afraid to lose my first real best friend, I chickened out so many times before. I don’t know, maybe it’s actually good my subconscious decided to take over… I was going nuts with all the possible what-ifs and uncertainty!”

Charlie couldn’t agree more, a happy little sigh escaping him. With a mind of its own, his free hand comes up to cradle Nick’s face, his thumb gently stroking Nick’s cheek. Like the night before, Nick immediately leans into the touch and Charlie’s chest tightens with all the love he has for this beautiful man sitting in front of him.

“I was devastated when I heard this person yell about you being on a date and couldn’t handle my fever and my missed chance. So when I saw you next to me, I really thought I must be dreaming and was so happy, I must’ve let down any guard. I’m sorry I–”

“No, Nick, absolutely no need for the s-word! Yes, I was a bit shocked last night but that was mostly because I was so unsure if you really meant it.” Charlie pauses and takes in the yearning on Nick’s face, “I wished so hard for you to mean it.”

“Yeah?” Nick’s voice is so soft, his stuffy nose turns it into a mere whisper. When Charlie just nods, Nick sniffles again and continues, “To make it abundantly clear: I am in love with you Charlie, probably since the moment you opened the door to me.” Nick’s expression is earnest, his smile so genuine and Charlie knows his own face is a mirror of Nick’s words. A shiver runs down his spine when Nick pauses and just looks at him, amber melting into blue and tumbling down any guard that’s still left. “I fell in love with you even harder the more I learned about you, the more time we spent with each other, the more we laughed and cried and held each other. You give me so much joy and strength, I love everything about you.” Nick sighs and clears his throat, his gaze dropping to their hands before he looks up again with a smile so wide, it almost takes Charlie’s breath away. “Charlie Spring, will you do me the honour and go on a date with me?”

Charlie giggles, he can’t contain all the happiness he feels breaking free in his chest any longer. He nods so fast, he feels dizzy, and all but breathes his, “Yes, please!”

They grin at each other – and Nick sneezes, turning his head to the side at the last moment.

“Maybe not today, though,” Charlie chuckles when he hears Nick’s repeated sniffling, his hand now holding Nick’s hair with the sudden turn of his head. Is he really allowed to do that now? He tentatively buries his hand a bit deeper into Nick’s golden strands, the low happy sigh it earns him a boost to his courage.

“I love you too, Nick,” he says, waiting for Nick’s gaze to return to him, “So much! I used to be so afraid to lose my best friend, too, but you have to believe me, I’ve loved you too, for so, so long now!” He pauses, thinking about Nick’s words and throwing caution into the wind. “Nick Nelson, will you do me the honour and be my boyfriend?”

Charlie knows it’s cheesy as fuck but with Nick, he knows that even his usually deeply hidden sappy side is safe. It’s Nick’s turn to nod now – it’s more careful though, an obvious sign of his still ill state, but his smile is so full of adoration, there’s no room left for doubt. Nick squeezes Charlie’s hand three times.

“Feverdream Nick and I very much like your proposal,” Charlie rolls his eyes but can’t bite back a bubbly laugh at his dork of a boyfriend. Boyfriend! God, he’s so in love.

“I’d love to seal it with a kiss but…” Nick blushes and shrugs, gesticulating a once-over of his body.

“We could hug?” Charlie suggests and is instantly met with an arm full of Nick. A nice smelling Nick, he can’t help but notice. Charlie wraps one arm around Nick’s waist and his other tightens his grip on Nick’s head to hold him close. He feels a kiss pressed into his curls, his temple, his ear and back into his curls and it’s so tender and gentle, Charlie’s chest expands in utter contentment. Then, Nick chuckles.

“Char.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you really call me a good boy?”

🍂🍂