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This was a mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake. He knew it would come back to bite him at some point. He just hadn’t expected it to look like this.
Nai continues to fume as laughter erupts around him. Nicholas is making merry, of all things—swiveling a glass of champagne like he fits right in. Like he was pulled straight from a wedding magazine, suit pressed to perfection, clinging like a second skin.
Their surrounding company absolutely loves him and Nai boils at the thought of being expected to bring his 'date' over again and again.
“Man,” his coworker, Brad, claps Nai on the shoulder. Hard. “You should've brought your partner along way sooner, absolute riot he is.”
Nai forces a smile, teeth clenched hard enough to crack as Nicholas meets his eye and grins—he should have brought Legato instead. Anything that would've happened after would've been more tolerable than suffering this. Hell, he could've brought Vash and he could've made it work.
“Don't be too hard on him,” Nicholas answers for Nai. “Gets real shy ‘bout all the attention. I’m workin’ on breakin’ him out of it. Real problem.”
Nai's smile doesn't falter. He takes Nicholas' hand in his and squeezes tight, enough to feel the idiot tense.
Nicholas' grin flickers—only for a second—before it settles right back into place, brighter if anything. He turns his hand in Nai's grip like he's adjusting it, threading their fingers together instead.
Worse. Way worse.
“There it is,” Nicholas says lightly. “Told you. Warms up quick.”
Nai exhales slowly through his nose. Patience is a virtue. The virtue of the soul, the foundation upon which success is built. He's been in meetings with suits worse than this, surely.
Brad laughs, delighted. “You two are something else, seriously.”
“Been tryin' to tell 'im that,” Nicholas says, squeezing back now, just shy of painful. “He don't listen.”
Nai tilts his head, still pleasant. “I prefer not to encourage bad habits.”
“Aw,” Nicholas coos. “Thought you liked mine at least.”
Nai's thumb presses, sharp, into the side of his hand to pinch the thin of Nicholas' skin.
Nicholas' grip tightens in response.
They hold eye contact.
Brad, blissfully unaware, lets out another laugh. “I'm glad you came, Nai. You've been blowing off every other invitation we've ever extended; I feared I wouldn't see you on my big day!”
“Yes,” Nai says, smooth as glass. “I'm glad we found the time.”
Nicholas snorts.
They extricate themselves eventually—or rather, Nai does, slipping his hand free under the pretense of reaching for a glass of water. His fingers ache faintly.
Nicholas looks entirely unbothered.
He's already halfway through another glass of champagne by the time Nai turns back, having acquired it from somewhere without Nai noticing. There's a plate in his other hand now too—something small and artfully arranged that he doesn't hesitate to spear and eat like it isn't meant to be admired first.
Free food, free drinks.
That was the deal… well, that and a generous amount of money, but who frets over those kinds of details?
Nai watches him chew, jaw working slow, satisfied, like this is precisely the kind of evening he would've chosen for himself if he had the luxury.
Infuriating.
“You're enjoying yourself,” Nai says accusingly.
Nicholas glances at him, brows lifting slightly, like the question is obvious. “Shouldn't I be?”
“You're being excessive.”
“It's part of the arrangement!”
“And you're doing too much.”
Nicholas hums, popping the last of his Œuf mimosa into his mouth. “You're bein' uptight.”
“I am maintaining appearances.”
“Yeah?” Nicholas says, wiping his fingers on a napkin he definitely wasn't meant to use that way. “Could've fooled me, honey.”
Nai's eyes narrow. “Is this 'convincing' to you? I told you to do enough to be believable,” he says, voice lowered as he steps closer. “Not to be theatrical.”
Nicholas leans in just as easily.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, “if I wasn't convincin', your friend wouldn't be buyin' it. They adore me.”
Nai stills.
“Do I look like a man who appreciates the constant pet names? Quit it.”
Nicholas smiles. Slow and mean.
“Then act less like you do.”
Nai inhales, measured, controlled—and reaches up. Pours all his blood-lust into fixing Nicholas' tie. Not gently.
His fingers slide under the knot, tugging it tighter than necessary, pulling him in a fraction in the process.
“Stand still,” Nai says, quiet and cutting. “You look as if you dressed yourself.”
Nicholas huffs a laugh, breath ghosting warm over Nai's mouth. “I did.”
“Yes,” Nai grimaces. “That's the problem.”
Nai squeezes the knot and slides the tie back in place, pulling it tight before easing it.
Nicholas grins still, not stepping back. “Careful,” he says, softer. “People are watchin'.”
Nai's gaze flicks to his crooked mouth.
Then back up.
“Good. At least this is an acceptable level of PDA.”
And pats his chest—firm and final—before creating much-needed distance.
They don't get far before they're intercepted again.
This time it's Luida—radiant, a little flushed from the day, hand still loosely hooked in Brad's arm. Her smile is softer than his, but no less curious.
“I've been meaning to ask for so long now,” she says, glancing between them. “How did you two meet? Nai never shared. He's always so secretive when it comes to gossip with me!”
Nai opens his mouth. He can't quite recall all the bullshit he came up with when dodging workplace social obligations; it became a game at some point. What could he come up with every other week to evade Friday evening games and social-drinking? The list spans several wingspans, surely.
“Work,” he says smoothly.
At the exact same time—
“Funeral,” Nicholas cuts in.
Nai turns his head. Slowly.
Nicholas doesn't miss a beat.
“Not as grim as it sounds,” he continues easily, one hand settling at the small of Nai's back like it belongs there. “Mutual acquaintance. He wasn't talkin' to anyone, just standin' off to the side, lookin' like he'd rather be anywhere else—”
“I was paying my respects,” Nai says lightly.
“—so I figured I'd make his day worse,” Nicholas finishes, ignoring him entirely.
Brad laughs. Luida smiles, invested. Her eyes shine and Nai can't stand the inevitability of this spreading like wildfire through the work floor.
“And that worked?” she asks.
“Oh, not at first,” Nicholas says. “He hated me.”
“I still do.”
Nicholas squeezes his side, not even subtle about it. “He doesn't.”
Nai shoots him a look that should, by all rights, kill him where he stands. Absolutely incinerated. It would be on the news: spontaneous combustion, man ignites without traceable cause at a wedding venue.
Nicholas just grins and keeps going.
“Kept runnin' into each other after that. Same streets, same shops. Loves his usual tea place several streets down from your main office building—likes to stew in his loner time. A real adorable loser.” He shrugs. “Didn't take long to figure out he's got a routine. Same takeout on Wednesday, calls his twin to catch up and do some long-distance bickering. It's cute. Creature of habit.”
Nai stills.
That—
That is not information he recalls offering.
Nicholas glances at him, like he knows exactly what Nai is thinking.
Then back to their audience.
“Coffee too. Same place, same time. Doesn't like it too hot—lets it sit before drinkin' it with somethin' sweet.” A beat. “No milk, though.”
Luida's brows lift, and Nai knows she's eating this up.
Brad lets out a low whistle. “You really know him, huh?”
Nai's grip tightens around his glass.
Nicholas hums. “Didn't have to. He's predictable. A little boring.”
“I'm not—”
“You are,” Nicholas says lightly, talking over him again. “Same lunch spot three days a week. Brings his own food the other two. Rotates the same five or six options every other week. No meat, full veg.”
Nai stares at him.
Nicholas doesn't look at him this time, but there's something smug in the curve of his mouth.
“And he reads,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “Real books. None of that flimsy stuff. Margins all marked up, too—but I spot a little romance in his hands now and then. Guilty pleasure is my hypothesis.”
“Stop talking,” Nai warns, low.
Luida laughs, delighted. “That's kind of sweet.”
“Yeah?” Nicholas says. “He didn't think so when I pointed it out.”
“I don't,” Nai snaps.
Nicholas finally turns to him fully, hand still firm at his back.
“Could've fooled me,” he murmurs.
It's quieter now. Closer. Too close, again.
Nai feels heat crawl up his neck—annoying—and forces his attention back outward.
“That is not how we met,” he says, crisp and controlled.
“No?” Nicholas tilts his head. “You wanna tell it?”
Nai opens his mouth—and hesitates.
Because any version he gives will sound worse. Or thinner. Or… less.
Nicholas watches him for half a second longer than necessary. It’s familiar. Vash, on the doorstep, all smiles—'a new friend'—and Nicholas looking at him like that. Lingering. Uninvited.
Nai had known then. Trouble.
He made it a point to know as little about Nicholas as possible, never warming to his type to begin with. Smoker, loud, boisterous and occasionally perverted.
“Didn't think so,” Nicholas smiles.
Brad laughs again. “How long have you been together?”
Nai answers immediately.
“Not long.”
“Long enough,” Nicholas says over him.
They both pause.
Nicholas sighs, like he's being forced into a confession. “I was plannin' on takin' things slow,” he starts, shaking his head. “Real slow. Proper. Thought I'd hold out, y'know. Do it right.”
Nai's eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
That tone is dangerous.
“But,” Nicholas continues, glancing at Nai with something that looks suspiciously like fond exasperation, “he's got a way about him.”
“Don't—”
“Couldn't keep his hands to himself,” Nicholas says, warm, far too pleased with himself. “Real needy—”
Nai steps on his foot. He hopes he breaks something.
Nicholas hitches, just barely.
“—sensual,” he finishes anyway, voice only slightly strained.
“Excuse me,” Nai cuts in sharply, smile snapping back into place like a flicked switchblade. “That's enough.”
Luida giggles, hand over her mouth. The same amusement spreads across Brad's face and Nai is losing it. He hopes they're far too drunk—be it on alcohol or the joy of their union—to remember a thing of it. He might try to convince them Nicholas was a figment of their imagination to begin with. He never brought a man to the wedding, what are you talking about?
Nicholas, traitor that he is, just looks arrogant enough to warrant wiping the floor with.
“There I go again. Embarrasin' him,” he says, softer now, like that excuses it. Like that makes making a fool of Nai fine.
Nai bristles.
“I trust this satisfies.” He glances between the newlyweds and takes Nicholas' arm in his hand, tightening like a vice around it. “We'll be outside, this one needs his smoke break desperately.”
The cold hits once outside. Good, clean, nothing like the suffocating warmth inside.
Nai exhales, and the moment the door shuts behind them—
“What,” he hisses, turning to Nicholas, “the hell was that.”
Nicholas doesn't even look fazed.
He takes his time fishing a cigarette from his pocket, tapping it once against the box before sliding it between his lips.
“What,” he echoes, patting himself down for a lighter, “the part where I saved your ass, or the part where you nearly broke my foot in front of your coworkers?”
“You were talking shit,” Nai snaps, stepping closer as his voice cuts low and vicious, “entirely out of turn.”
Nicholas hums, cupping a hand around the flame as he lights up. The tip glows, ember-bright in the dark.
“Told me to be convincin'.”
“I told you to be believable,” Nai bites. “Not whatever that was.”
Nicholas exhales smoke slowly, letting it drift between them.
“Yeah?” he says. “Looked pretty believable from where I'm standin'.”
“You're a piece of shit.”
“And you,” Nicholas says, glancing at him now, lazy and assessing, “are a bore.”
Nai goes still.
“A—what.”
“A boooring bore,” Nicholas repeats slowly before taking another drag. “You drag me out here, tell me to play your dotin' boyfriend, and then spend the whole night actin' like I'm holdin' you at gunpoint.”
“I am maintaining a standard, Nicholas,” Nai says incredulously. “I see these people five days a week and every other fucking Saturday. God forbid I don't want to be made to look like some horny freak who forced myself on my prudish would-be lover.”
“You've got that stick so far up your ass it's a wonder you can walk,” Nicholas says mildly.
Nai's eyes narrow to slits.
“I assure you,” he says, cold, “I function perfectly well.”
Nicholas snorts. “Yeah? Must be one hell of a job gettin' it out, then.”
Nai's lip curls. “I don't recall asking for your assistance or commentary.”
“Shame,” Nicholas says, tipping his head, smoke curling past his mouth. “Reckon you'd need both hands for it. Maybe a crowbar. I know a place, can hook ya up with someone nice and strong.”
“You're revolting.”
“And you're wound so tight you're startin' to squeal.”
Nai steps into his space, suffering the air of nicotine to go tête-à-tête with nuisance incarnate. “You are enjoying this far too much, need I remind you you're on payroll?”
Nicholas doesn't move, just watches him, something a little too amused sitting behind his eyes.
“Free food,” he says. “Free drinks. Good company… I can take a hit to my pay cheque.”
Nai lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Incorrigible.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas drawls. “You keep sayin' that.”
The balcony door creaks, opening behind them. They both glance over.
A girl steps out, bundled just enough for the cold, a camera that looks ridiculously large in her small hands—big lens, professional, swinging slightly as she moves.
“Oh—sorry!” she says, bright, a little breathless. “Didn't mean to interrupt!”
Nai straightens immediately, expression smoothing over just as easily.
Nicholas just flicks ash to the side.
“You're fine,” he says.
“I'm doing a thing,” she explains, lifting the camera slightly. “I'm getting pictures of all the couples—y'know, candid, romantic, for them to keep. Just one kiss per couple!”
Nicholas opens his mouth but Nai moves first.
He grabs him by the front of his shirt and kisses him. Badly.
Deliberately so.
All wrong angles and pressure, teeth knocking just enough to be unpleasant, no softness to it whatsoever. A proper punishment. Nai could bite him for good measure but decides he hasn't reached that kind of rock bottom yet.
Nicholas goes still under it, cigarette hand freezing mid-air.
Nai pulls back just as abruptly, turning his head towards the girl—Jessica, he recalls—as he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Is that sufficient?” he asks coolly, utterly composed.
Jessica frets over her camera, quickly flicking through photos Nai gave her far too little warning to properly take.
Nicholas stares at him and when Nai turns to meet his gaze his hand comes up to catch Nai by the jaw.
“C'mon,” he murmurs, a rough, annoyed edge to his voice as he tugs Nai back in. “Give 'em a proper one for the book, babe.”
Nicholas kisses him again. His grip is steady, thumb just under Nai's chin, tilting him into it. Not forcing him—guiding. His mouth softer, slower, like he's taking his time with it, like he's got something to prove.
It tastes like smoke and heat. A camera shutter clicks when Nai feels a hint of tongue.
Another click. A soft giggle.
“Perfect,” Jessica says, already moving on. “Thank you! Mom will make sure you'll get your copies!”
The door shuts behind her.
Silence, again. Nicholas pulls back, not too far, and Nai blinks at him feeling a little—off.
Nicholas is still too close. Close enough to count lashes if he wanted to. That stupid, crooked smile creeping back into place.
Nai exhales sharply and shoves at his chest.
“Don't,” he mutters. “Do that in public.”
Nicholas huffs. “You started it, you little freak.”
“That was for the photograph.”
“Oh my god just say ‘picture,’” Nicholas rolls his eyes. “And I fixed it, by the way. That first click she got was ugly, all teeth and probably blurry as fuck.”
Nai's jaw tightens.
He can still feel it, annoyingly.
“I did not require—”
He cuts himself off, turning away instead. He's had enough.
“Try not to make more of an eyesore of yourself when you come back in,” he says, clipped.
Nicholas' voice follows, amused and smoke-rough.
“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”
Nai doesn't look back. He pushes through the door and steps back inside, heat rushing up to meet him—entirely ignoring the way his face is just a little too warm.
Their room is neat and quiet.
Too quiet after all the noise—the music, laughter, glasses clinking, all of it dulled now to nothing but a faint hum at the back of his mind.
Nai stands just inside the doorway, staring.
At the bed.
Single.
Not even generously so.
“… No,” he says flatly.
Behind him, Nicholas kicks the door shut with his heel and snorts. “What.”
“That,” Nai says, pointing like it's offensive, “is not an acceptable arrangement.”
Nicholas steps past him without a care in the world, already tugging at his tie (with effort, Nai notes smugly). “Looks like a bed to me.”
“There is only one.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas says. “That's usually how that works.”
Nai doesn't dignify that with a response. “I'll take the floor.”
Nicholas laughs.
Not even subtle about it—full, open, like Nai just said the funniest thing he's heard all night.
“Be my guest,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it somewhere that is definitely not appropriate for a rental. “I'll suffer through the mattress somehow.”
“You are insufferable.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas agrees easily, working the buttons of his shirt loose. “Been hearin' that all night.”
Fabric shifts, slides—he peels himself out of the suit like he's been waiting to do it all evening, sleeves dragged off, collar loosened, tension dropping out of him piece by piece.
Nai pointedly looks away.
“Try not to ruin it,” he says instead. “You are wearing that back.”
Nicholas glances down at himself, then back up, unimpressed. “Pretty sure I already did.”
“That is not amusing.”
“Lighten up,” Nicholas says, toeing off his shoes. “Place like this, I'm startin' to think you could afford to replace it anyway.”
Nai's expression sharpens. “Excuse me?”
Nicholas gestures vaguely around the room as he crosses to the bed, testing the mattress with one hand before dropping onto it without ceremony.
“Fancy venue, fancy room,” he says, bouncing once. “Fancy sheets.” A beat, then, with a sideways glance— “What do you do again? Robbing in broad daylight?”
Nai scoffs. “Hardly.”
“Could've fooled me,” Nicholas mutters, already reaching to pull the covers back. “Spoiled rich boy act's pretty convincing. I bet you make more than the lovely newlyweds do.”
Nai's eyes narrow. “I work.”
“Mm.” Nicholas slides under the sheets, settling in like he made his home. “Sure you do.”
“I do.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Nai stares at him, then exhales sharply and turns away before he does something regrettable. Though he entertains a few ideas on how he could possibly get away with murder.
“I'm using the bathroom,” he says, like a warning.
“Thrillin',” Nicholas murmurs, already sinking deeper into the pillows with a low, satisfied groan.
Nai makes it halfway to the door before stopping, turning back just enough to level him with a look. There's far too much liquor in his system to just let it go.
“You were an embarrassment tonight,” he says. “A complete and utter embarrassment.”
Nicholas doesn't even open his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, voice gone lazy. “And you loved it.”
“I did not—”
“You did,” Nicholas cuts in, faint smirk ghosting across his mouth. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
Nai turns on his heel immediately.
“What did you just—”
He stops. Nicholas is already out, completely.
Head tipped back into the pillows, breathing slow and even, one arm thrown over his eyes like the conversation—and Nai—ceased to exist the second the words left his mouth.
A soft, unmistakable snore follows.
Nai stands there, staring at him. He looks at the bed again, then at the floor, then back at Nicholas, sprawled across the mattress like he's claimed it by divine right.
His jaw tightens.
“… I am not sleeping on the damn floor,” he mutters.
Nicholas snores, louder this time.
Nai groans, disappears into the bathroom—if only to put a door between them for a moment.
Just a moment.