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“You okay?” Matt asks softly, brushing Nick’s hair back before leaning down to press his lips tenderly to the older’s forehead, a gentle show of affection he doesn’t usually allow. They’ve been lying on the couch for a while, Nick’s back to his chest and a cartoon playing on the TV that they’re only half paying attention to, but Matt’s mind won’t stop sliding back to their brother. “You know he doesn’t really mean it,” he murmurs while Nick’s head tips back against his chest with a quiet hum.
He’s talking about when Chris takes his frustration out on Nick every time they play a round of whatever game –usually Fortnite, but others too– has captured their focus.
“Yes, he does,” Nick says with a wry smile. His eyes twinkle with amusement as he meets Matt’s gaze. “I’m not fragile, you know. Don’t have to treat me like glass.”
Matt wrinkles his nose with a small huff. It would be so easy to push him off and grumble about it, but instead he just purses his lips and says, “I’m not treating you like glass, Nick. I’m checking in. Like a good brother.”
The amusement softens to something gentler. “I’m fine, sweetheart,” he promises. “I don’t mind if he’s mean. It’s not like he’s wrong, anyway,” he adds with a puff of something begrudging that Matt doesn’t like. It’s quiet for a beat, Matt nuzzling down to breathe in the cologne still clinging to the skin of Nick’s neck from earlier in the day –it’s woodsy, comforting, and settles him in his skin far more easily than he’ll ever admit–, and then the older sighs. “I used to wish he wouldn’t be so mean about it, but it’s just how it is. He takes it too seriously, while I don’t. We don’t always have to mesh, you know?” he shrugs carelessly, like it truly doesn’t bother him.
Matt hates that. Hates when Nick just… lets them be mean. Usually, he fights back, and he does when they play; he’s never been one to just lay down and take it, but far more recently, he’s been letting their comments go without one of his own in return. For the most part, he just ignores what Chris says, as if he hasn’t spoken at all, while other times, Matt notices that once he’s snapped back a reply –usually half-hearted, like he’s only really saying it because it’s what’s expected of him–, Nick goes quiet. Subdued. And maybe Matt is looking too deeply into it; maybe he’s gone a little soft, sensitive where his brothers aren’t, but he can’t help it.
Nick has always been loud, and so proudly him, even when he’s bad at something, and the last thing Matt wants is for him to stop being that. To start closing off. Declining their invitations to play a game or—or something else, too, because he doesn’t want to annoy them or ruin their fun.
Part of him just feels this need to be kind to Nick about these things. Encouraging him, helping him. Matt loves doing things with his brother, and the thought that a sharp comment in the heat of the moment might eventually drive him away makes something uncomfortable and sour settle in his chest. He doesn’t want Nick to be driven away. He wants him to stay right where he is, joining in on their stupid games, cracking jokes and squealing in his ears whenever he gets scared and having a good, fun time with them.
“I know,” Matt murmurs, though he sounds upset even to his own ears. “Just don’t want you to stop hanging out with us ‘cause Chris takes shit too seriously,” he says with a shrug.
A humoured sound pulls from the older. “Are you saying you like playing Fortnite with me despite how awful I am?” he teases, clearly not wanting to actually have a serious conversation about this. Not that Matt blames him. That would be making it a thing, and Nick has already accepted that it isn’t a thing, so why bother?
Matt rolls his eyes. “I’m saying I like you, and I like hanging out with you. I might have to murder the kid if he ruins that.”
Nick chuckles and shifts around in his arms. “Matty, Matty, Matty,” he coos, his voice thick with affection as he settles against his chest again, this time with his head tucked under Matt’s chin and his breaths fanning his neck. “My baby brother. My saviour.”
Arms wrapping tight around the older, Matt sighs at the teasing lilt. The rush of air rustles Nick’s hair. “Nick,” he says softly, tiredly. “I’m not, like… I know it’s not that big of a deal, but…”
“I’m fine,” Nick repeats, body melting into his. “Kid says worse shit on a daily basis. It’s okay, Matt,” he insists. “Besides,” his head tilts back to give Matt a wry smirk, “we all know I could kick his ass in real life.”
Matt barks a laugh and shakes his head in amusement, but doesn’t deny it; Nick has always been the strongest of the three, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the boy is right, no matter how cocky it makes Nick sound. Soft giggles melt into the skin of his neck as his brother tucks his head against it once again, and Matt settles further as they relax into each other and the couch, images of Nick handing Chris’s ass to him making him bite down a grin and tip to muffle his snickering in the older’s hair.
Boy, what he wouldn’t give to see that.
Reluctantly, and still not fully satisfied, Matt lets his concerns go and focuses on the TV.