Work Text:
“Fuckit!”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fucking hell!”
Sitting in front of his laptop, at the little table in the tiny kitchen of their rented flat, Charlie despairs of getting any work done until Nick leaves. In the bedroom the swearing is accompanied by the sounds of drawers and cupboards being opened and closed. Charlie counts to three in his head before his boyfriend calls,
“Char, sweetheart, have you seen my black tie?”
Charlie knows the answer to this one and calls back “It was with your white shirt.”
He hears Nick groan in reply. “I’m wearing the white shirt… but there’s no tie here with it.”
Charlie patiently saves his work closes the laptop and walks the short distance to their bedroom. Nick, who should be the embodiment of calm and collected as befits the solemnity of the occasion, is instead radiating heat and panic. Charlie pauses for a moment to admire his slightly rumpled looking boyfriend who is wearing a black suit with wide labels, looking to all extents and purposes as if he'd stepped out of Bugsy Malone. Charlie thinks the gangster look suits Nick very well and makes a mental note to ensure that he tells him that before the day is over.
“The tie, Char, I need a black tie, have you got one?”
Charlie scoffs, if Nick weren’t in such a state, he would laugh out loud.
“You know I haven't worn a tie since I did my A level exams.”
“Fuckit, you’re no help! I wish to hell I had never said I would go to this funeral. I don't know why I did.”
Charlie takes a deep breath and lays a calming hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“You wanted to go because You liked Derek, and he gave you your first job in teaching and you said it wasn't fair for Marian to have to go on her own as she didn't know him.”
Derek was the recently passed retired Head Teacher of Nick’s school, Marian, the current Head who was giving Nick a lift. They were representing the school at the service.
“What time is it?” Nick asks still panicking.
Charlie glances at his phone, “Ten to Eleven. What time is Marian coming for you?”
“Half past.”
“Okay so we have twenty minutes to find this tie. I know it was with your white shirt, the one you’re wearing. Did it fall off the hanger onto the floor?”
Charlie surveys the floor dubiously; it is now wearing the contents of the chest of drawers that Nick has emptied in his search for the elusive tie. Charlie kneels and begins to steadily collect and fold the clothes are on the floor ready to put them away, they do not reveal a tie.
Nick protests “Charlie we really haven't got time for that now.”
Charlie turns and looks at his boyfriend and out of the corner of his eye catches sight of a thin ribbon of material hanging down from Nick’s jacket. He catches hold of it, silently praying it isn’t attached. The tie uncoils like a snake,
“Dingbat, why did you put it in your pocket?”
“I didn’t know I did… I suppose I was a bit preoccupied thinking about Derek, you know, forty years toiling away in the classroom. Two years retired and then gone.”
“Do you want help with that?”
Nick is ineffectually twisting the black tie around his neck seemingly unable to make a knot.
“Please?”
Charlie guides Nick gently to sit down on the bed so that he can tie a perfect Windsor knot around his neck. He pulls his lover into an embrace.
“Deep breaths you're going to be fine.”
Charlie holds Nick until he feels him relax in his arms, landing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. They stay like that for several minutes until they heard the door entry buzzer sound. Leaving Nick to gather his phone and keys, Charlie goes to answer it, informing Marian that Nick will be down in a minute.
With one last peck on the lips, Nick makes his way out the flat as Charlie calls to him,
“Nick, you haven’t forgotten…”
******
Less than thirty seconds later, Charlie’s words are drowned out but another series of crashing expletives.
“… they’re painting the communal areas today.”
Nick is back in their hallway, one trouser leg scarlet from knee to calf.
“What did you do?”
“I pushed the door with my knee… like I always do! Look at them, they’re fucking ruined. I can’t go like this.”
“Change your trousers.” Charlie almost sprints back to the bedroom and throwing open the doors of their shared wardrobe begins to rummage, muttering under his breath,
“Grey joggers, green joggers, cords, jeans…do you have anything black, ah... what about these?”
Charlie pulls a pair of dark trousers from the back. Nick has caught on; he has removed the suit trousers and laid them carefully on the bed. He takes the proffered trousers from Charlie and looks at them.
“Char, these are my old uniform trousers from when I was at Truham. I was a twenty-eight waist. I’ll never get into them.”
“Worth a try, go on, I’ll speak to Marian and try white spirit on these.” He takes the suit trousers from the bed and goes into the kitchen via the hallway phone.
If asked nick would probably have told you that he has hardly changed at all at twenty-five compared with eighteen. He is still fit, eats well, and rugby keeps him in shape, but the school trousers tell a different story. He manages to get them on, but they cling to his thighs somewhat more firmly than he remembers. He can only do up the fly by laying flat on the bed and breathing in. He asks Charlie for a safety pin to secure the waistband. Charlie has to help him stand. He waddles to the kitchen.
“I hope there’s a good turn out, and the chapel is full, it will give me an excuse to stand at the back. I don’t think I can sit down in these. I’m beginning to lose all feeling in my legs.”
“Nick,” Charlie replies urgently, “you’re going to have to sit in Marian’s car.”
“I’d better see if I can then…” Nick pulls out a kitchen chair and gingerly sits. Marian could probably hear the sound of the fabric tearing downstairs in the car park.
“Well, there’s the answer.” Nick says, resigned, “I suppose they were quite old trousers; nothing lasts forever.”
Privately, Charlie recalls that Nick’s school trousers were always on the snug side in the derriere. Charlie has always been rather proud of his boyfriend’s arse.
“You’d better tell Marian I’m indisposed.”
“Wear something else, you could wear your good jeans. Your top half still looks ok, perhaps no one will notice.”
“Everyone will notice Char. But you’re right… and Derek would have seen the funny side of it.”
Nick disappears back into the bedroom to change. Charlie wolf whistles as he goes and says,
“at least it happened here, not at the chapel, and you were wearing underpants.”
Nick groans again, but shortly return wearing jeans,
“I remember why I haven’t worn these, they’re too long.”
“Turn them up. I’ll do it.”
Charlie hastily kneels at Nick’s feet to turn up his jeans.
“There, all done, you can go, let me grab my keys.”
“Why?”
“I’m coming out with you… to open the doors.”
“I’m still not sure.”
“Nick, you’re all the rage, this look is all over Paris Fashion Week.”