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It was the evening of Christmas Eve, and the world outside Nick’s bedroom window was tinted with the quiet hush of falling snow. The room was flooded in the soft glow of fairy lights he’d strung up at the beginning of December, golden flickers reflecting off the tinsel draped clumsily over picture frames and shelves. On his bed, beneath a fluffy green blanket, Charlie sat curled up against Nick’s chest, his head resting beneath Nick’s chin.
It was warm here, safe—Charlie’s favorite place in the world. Nick’s arms held him firmly, like an anchor, while the muffled murmur of a Christmas special played quietly in the background.
“Mm,” Charlie murmured, shifting closer. His breath fogged gently against Nick’s hoodie.
“You okay?” Nick asked softly, brushing a strand of dark hair away from Charlie’s forehead. His voice held that familiar note of concern—gentle but insistent, the way it always did when Charlie wasn’t quite himself.
Charlie gave a tiny shrug, but his face twisted a little. “My stomach… feels weird. Not like, bad-bad. Just… off.”
Nick tilted his head down with that trademark furrow in his brow, the one that said he was already taking mental notes, already trying to figure out how to help. “Weird how? Like hurty sick weird or…?”
Charlie bit his lip. “Just… ache-y. Kind of bubbly. Probably too many gingerbread men.”
Nick chuckled, low and warm, and pressed a kiss against the crown of Charlie’s head. “You did eat, like, five.”
“They were small! And they were good,” Charlie muttered defensively, which made Nick smile wider. He tightened his arms around him, letting one hand drift down over Charlie’s t-shirt to gently rub soft circles on his stomach.
Charlie practically melted under the gesture, his body unwinding into Nick’s. “That’s actually… nice,” he admitted.
“I knew it,” Nick murmured proudly, continuing the rhythmic rub, his touch featherlight. “See? I should set up shop. Super professional stomach masseur. Only for boyfriends named Charlie.”
Charlie let out a sleepy laugh, muffled against Nick’s chest. “Exclusive service. Lucky me.”
And then—
It happened.
Loud. Obnoxiously loud. A sound that shattered the cozy silence in the room and practically vibrated through the blanket.
Charlie froze. Nick paused mid-circle. Both of their eyes widened.
“Did you just—” Nick started, but he didn’t even finish because Charlie was already shoving his face into Nick’s hoodie, making a strangled whine.
“Oh my GOD, no, no, no…” came Charlie’s muffled wail. “No, nope, absolutely not. I refuse. Delete that from existence. Pretend it didn’t happen.”
Nick was already laughing. Not cruelly—never cruelly—but in that big, golden laugh that forced Charlie to crack a reluctant smile even through the horror. “Oh my god, Charlie. That was literally the loudest fart I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Nick!” Charlie tried to squirm away, but Nick simply wrapped him tighter, refusing to let him go.
“No, no, you can’t escape this,” Nick teased, his grin practically pressed into Charlie’s hair. “This is history. The walls of my bedroom are gonna carry the memory forever.”
Charlie groaned immediately, pulling the blanket over his head. His ears burned red beneath the fabric. “I hate myself. Break up with me. Right now. Save yourself.”
Nick lifted the blanket just enough to peek in at his boyfriend’s scrunched-up face. “You’re ridiculous,” he said softly. “You think I’m gonna break up with you over—you know. Human body stuff?”
“The smell!” Charlie exclaimed, peeking out just enough to wave a hand like he could fan the air away. “Oh my god, it smells—Nick, I’m *so sorry*—”
Nick made an exaggerated cough, burying his nose into his sleeve. “Okay, okay. Wow. Yep. That’s potent. Impressive, actually.”
Charlie groaned louder, trying to bury himself all over again, but Nick hooked a finger under the blanket and pulled it back. His grin softened into something gentler, more adoring. “Charlie. Babe. Look at me.”
Charlie hesitated, but finally peeked out. His dark eyes were wide, embarrassed, pleading.
Nick leaned in and kissed his forehead. “It’s fine. It’s funny. You’re just… gassy. It happens.” His tone was ridiculously casual, like they were talking about the weather, the exact level of nonchalance that made Charlie’s chest ache in that good, heart-squeezing way.
“You’re supposed to think I’m cool and mysterious,” Charlie muttered, though the edges of his lips twitched toward a smile.
Nick snorted. “You literally start babbling about music theory every time we pass a piano shop. You’ve never been mysterious a day in your life.”
Charlie shoved at him half-heartedly. But before Nick could say anything else—
Another fart.
They both froze again.
And then another.
And then—another.
“Oh. My. GOD,” Charlie groaned. He flopped dramatically onto his back, throwing an arm over his face. “This is the end. I’m ascending. Goodbye, cruel world.”
Nick fell back onto the bed beside him, laughing so hard his stomach hurt. “Okay, nope. This is a crisis. We might need to evacuate. Alert the neighbors. Call hazard control.”
Charlie peeked at him from under his arm, cheeks red but finally laughing too. The absurdity was too much. The two of them ended up pressed together again, laughing so hard it turned into wheezing.
Eventually, their giggles died down into warm chuckles, their hands finding each other. Nick threaded their fingers together, thumb brushing soothing lines across Charlie’s skin.
Charlie sighed, his body finally relaxed again despite the occasional traitorous bubble of gas. He nestled back against Nick’s chest, letting him resume the gentle stomach rubs.
“You still rubbing my belly even though it’s, like, cursed?” Charlie asked softly, amusement laced through his sleepy tone.
“Of course,” Nick murmured, kissing the top of his head again. “It’s my job to take care of you. Even if you’re smelly.”
Charlie let out a content little hum, tucking himself closer. “You’re literally the best.”
Nick smiled into his hair. “And you’re literally the gassiest.”
Charlie groaned, but there was no embarrassment left in it now. Just affection. Domestic, cozy, completely unfiltered affection. And as the snow kept falling outside, they both drifted into a quiet peace—ridiculous, messy, and perfectly them.
And when the laughter finally subsided into quiet snickers, Nick tucked his nose back into Charlie’s hair, still smiling. The room was warm and still, Christmas lights blinking softly over them. Cuddled up like this, Nick wished they could stay that way forever.
Until—
“Oh no…” Nick’s face shifted. His nose wrinkled slightly. He tried, valiantly, to act like nothing was wrong. To play it cool, like maybe the lingering smell wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But then another wave hit him. Sharp. Pungent.
Nick started coughing into his hoodie sleeve, and at once Charlie sat up, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD, it’s that bad?!” His voice cracked from horror.
Nick gave him an apologetic look, still half-laughing. “Babe—it’s… it’s strong. It’s really strong.”
Charlie let out an anguished noise and flopped face-first into Nick’s pillow. “NO. JUST LET ME DIE.”
Nick rolled reluctantly out of bed, rummaging through his shelves until he found a half-used bottle of some kind of room spray his mum had left up here last holiday season. He held it up like a knight brandishing a sword. “Stand back. I’m going in.”
Charlie made a muffled screech into the pillow. “NICK NO, YOU CAN’T—THAT’S HUMILIATING!”
“Charlie, it smells like something *died* in here!” Nick teased, trying not to burst out laughing again. “You’re gonna kill me before Christmas morning.” He squeezed the handle a few times dramatically, sending clouds of artificial “festive cinnamon” mist into the room. The contrast of spicy sweetness and Charlie’s lingering emissions almost made Nick choke worse.
Charlie turned over, hiding his blushing face under both hands. “I am never showing my face in public again.”
Nick climbed back onto the bed after setting the spray aside, shaking his head, still laughing as he pulled Charlie’s hands away. “Charlie. Look at me.”
“No!”
“Yes.” Nick kissed his cheek until he peeked out reluctantly. “You’re adorable. Even when you—and I quote—‘toot up the atmosphere.’”
Charlie shoved him weakly, but Nick caught his wrist and kissed the back of his hand. “Don’t make me say it,” Nick warned, smirking.
Charlie squinted. “Say what?”
Nick gave him his most serious look. “Babe. You need to… relocate. Strategically.”
Charlie blinked. Then gasped. “You’re asking me to fart in the *bathroom*?!”
Nick burst out laughing again, collapsing sideways against him. “Yes! I love you, but my room can’t handle this level of attack! Please, I’m begging you.”
Charlie groaned dramatically, but his mouth was twitching. “This is the *least* romantic moment of my life. Ever. No contest.”
Nick wrapped both arms around him from the side, burying his grin into Charlie’s shoulder. “Maybe. But it’s also the most *us.* Messy and ridiculous and… still cuddly.” Then he leaned close and whispered into Charlie’s ear, “Now go protect my room before we both suffocate.”
Charlie shoved him away and grabbed the blanket, stomping toward the bathroom with the most exaggerated pout imaginable. “I cannot believe my very own boyfriend is *banishing* me,” he called dramatically behind him, though his laughter slipped through.
Nick shouted through another laugh, “Temporary exile!”
And when Charlie finally returned, red-eared but laughing himself, Nick opened his arms wide. “See? Crisis averted. Get back here.”
Charlie melted into him again, huffing against his chest. “If you ever tell *anyone* about this, I’ll break up with you.”
Nick kissed the top of his head, smiling into his hair. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Then, grinning wider: “Except the air freshener. That was life or death.”
Charlie groaned again, but curled closer anyway, because—even through the embarrassment—it was still the safest place in the world.