Work Text:
15.34, Nick ❤️🐶🖕🏼
Charlie
Char
I have a problem
15.47, Charlie ❤️🐱🖕🏼
you have so many problems, nick
which one do u need help with currently
Fucking rude
But no it’s serious
My pan broke
your… pan… broke
My pan broke
What are you not understanding here
Why are you …-ing me
i need more context nick
how do you *break* a pan
I don’t fucking know what to tell you Char
It BROKE
It is broken
I have no pan
And my eggs are on the floor
Charlie it’s pandemonium
no.
Things are not panning out well for me today
nick i swear to god
I know, it’s truly panful
divorce x
What do I doooooooo
so there’s this thing called the internet
and another thing called shops
both of those things can be used to purchase a new pan
No I need help
Will you help me buy a pan when you’re here at the weekend?
i mean
i guess?
it’s a pretty simple job, nick
didn’t you buy the last one?
No :( :( :( :( :( :( :(
Mum did
oooofffff course she did
alright my lil useless baby
we can go pan shopping next weekend
YES!!
Pantastic news
i genuinely have no idea why i’m attracted to you
Biggest lie I’ve ever heard in my life
Omg Ikea trip
I’ll ask Callum if we can borrow his car
I’m well excited
urgh.
fine, but it’ll cost you one (1) blowjob
Only one???????????????
Just say you hate me x
😏
Charlie arrives in Leeds three days later, only marginally annoyed about the fact that he has to go to Ikea instead of curling up in Nick’s bed. With Nick. Doing things that are very much not going to a kid-infested, family friendly, germy cesspit of a giant shop. Or, as Nick calls it, Disney Land for adults.
Charlie vehemently disagrees.
As it turns out, Ikea is even worse when you go with Nick Nelson. He stops at every single display, opening all the drawers in the fake kitchens and ooh-ing and ahh-ing every three seconds.
“Oh, mum has this in her kitchen,” he says about almost every single gadget, as if Charlie has never stepped foot in Sarah Nelson’s kitchen before. Please. He was a regular.
“Yes, I am aware,” he replies after the six hundredth ‘we have this!’. Nick doesn’t seem to notice his tone.
It gets worse as they reach the living room section. Nick sits on nearly every sofa on display, scrunching up his nose is distaste when they’re not comfy enough for his liking, or wiggling his bum happily on the good ones. It’s very annoying that it’s all a bit cute rather than totally embarrassing, which it should be.
“Nicholas,” Charlie says, very patiently. “You cannot afford, nor do you have need for, a sofa.”
Nick looks up at him sadly. “What’s the point in going to Ikea if you can’t test everything?”
“Buying a pan is the point. Which we could’ve done in the big Tesco, by the way. It did not warrant this hour-long drive to the outskirts of Leeds.”
“It was fifteen minutes, babe. And my last pan was from Ikea. It’s only right.”
“Your last pan broke.”
“Yes, well, we’ll avoid that one, won’t we?”
Charlie only sighs in response.
What Charlie doesn’t tell Nick as they wander through all the staged rooms is how much he loves the domesticity of this, or about how he can’t wait for the day when they’re shopping for their own home. Their first one together. If Charlie told him that, Nick would probably drop down to one knee in the bookshelf aisle, in front of the newest Klappan Bonka or whatever the fuck it’s called. Can’t have that.
So he keeps it to himself, and the mushy thought is short lived anyway. He really should have saved his sighing from earlier, because he’d forgotten the worst part. After the kitchens and the living rooms come the bedrooms, and Nick’s expression lights up even more. Nick climbs onto every bed in sight, making Charlie want to crawl underneath one of them and hide forever. He had been mistakenly under the impression that he had a grown-up boyfriend. How silly of him.
This goes on for far longer than Charlie was comfortable with until he eventually grabs Nick by the arm and pulls him through to the next section.
“I'm hungry,” he says as he drags 6ft2 of manchild towards the restaurant section. “It's meatball time now.”
“It's what time?” Nick asks.
“Meatball? Don't tell me you've been acting like an Ikea regular all day and now you don’t know that what you do next is meatballs?”
“But I don’t like meatballs,” Nick pouts.
He pouts all the way to the queue for food, which Charlie plonks him in and waits. Nick stares at the menu board for so long that Charlie wonders if he’s still actually awake or if he’s fallen asleep standing up with his eyes open. Again.
“Uh, Nick?”
“There’s no tuna.”
Charlie thinks he might return to the bedroom displays and go back to his hiding under the bed idea.
“Then get the meatballs like a normal Ikea dweller,” he responds after a moment of deep breathing.
Nick scrunches his nose up and says, again, “But I don’t like meatballs.”
“They’re just, like, rolled up burger. You love burgers.”
“Ew, no. Meatballs have the weirdest texture, and they make my mouth feel weird.”
That one does almost make Charlie smile. Nick being the fussy eater of the two of them was not on 15-year-old Charlie’s bingo card, but here they were. Most of the time it’s cute. When there’s a random, sticky child behind them bashing his tray off the back of Charlie’s legs? Less so.
“Okay, then have chips. You can’t go wrong with chips.”
“Yeah, but I’m really craving a tuna toastie.”
“You are literally always craving a tuna toastie. That doesn’t change the fact that you can’t get one here.”
Nick looks like a kicked puppy. Charlie shoves him out of the queue and orders for both of them – Nick will eat his garlic bread, peas and chips like a good boy. He summons Nick back to pick up a tray, and they carry their food over to a table that Charlie deems far enough away from any gallivanting children, even if he can still hear them screeching.
Nick prods at one of Charlie’s meatballs, looking vaguely suspicious.
“Seriously Nick,” Charlie says as he cuts up some of his delicious meatballs. “How are you a fussier eater than me? I’m the one with the literal eating disorder.”
Nick looks up at him, wide eyed and scandalised. “Char, that’s not funny.”
“It’s a bit funny,” Charlie shrugs. He’s smiling in a way that seems to make Nick relax a little. He knows that Nick is secretly a bit pleased when Charlie makes these jokes, because it means he’s doing well with everything. On bad days, Charlie wouldn’t even dream of making light of it. At the moment? He’s alright with it.
He winks at Nick, who makes a show of rolling his eyes, but he dives happily back into his chips a moment later as if the meatballs are no longer personally offending him, so Charlie takes that as a win.
After they’ve eaten, they head down the stairs towards the market hall. Charlie is extremely relieved to be done with the part of Ikea that has all the displays, but the feeling is short-lived.
“Ooh, look,” Nick says as they reach a new maze of cages full of stuff. "Kitchen things! Wok this way, Mr Spring.”
Charlie’s eye twitches, but he lets it go.
“Let me whisk you away to the correct location,” Nick continues, and Charlie’s other eye twitches.
He makes it to the cutlery section, and to Nick saying, “Where the fork are the pans?” before he turns and walks in the other direction.
Nick coaxes him back eventually, and they stand in front of the thing that they actually came here for. Charlie has already lost two hours of his life to this, and he hopes that the final stretch will be quick and painless.
It’s not. Because of course it’s not.
“So what exactly is it that I’m looking for in a pan, Charles?” Nick asks, staring into the cage thingy full of them. He sounds like he’s joking, but he’s looking awfully confused.
Charlie gives him a look. “And what makes you think I’m any more qualified to know that than you are, Nicholas?”
“Uh, because you know everything. Nerd.”
Christ. Nick is lucky he’s got a nice face, because he is so bloody annoying sometimes. Charlie wonders what it’ll be like when they have to actually choose a place to live and not just the very unimportant things that go inside one room of it. Maybe he’ll take Isaac on viewings instead. He’ll know what to do.
“Char!” Nick breaks him from his thoughts with an excited bounce. “Look! An apple corer!”
Charlie closes his eyes for a very brief moment, grounding himself. “You’re allergic to apples, Nick.”
“Oh yeah. Oh my god, look at these napkins! They have hedgehogs on them! Hedgehogs, Char!”
It takes everything he has in him for Charlie to not bash his head against the shelves in front of them. Nick Nelson is one of the most brilliant people Charlie has ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s kind and warm and so, so sweet. He’s so emotionally intelligent that sometimes it makes Charlie sick with envy, and he loves so fiercely, and he’s so competent at so many things. He’s so wicked smart in so many ways that Charlie is regularly left in awe of him.
And then, sometimes, like when they’re in Ikea, Nick Nelson is a total fucking idiot.
“Nick,” he says slowly through gritted teeth. “You don’t need napkins with hedgehogs on them. You are a student with no money. What you need is a frying pan, so that you can keep making all your chicken and rice and eggs so that I can keep enjoying your very nice arms.”
Nick looks torn between looking chastised and flattered. Even that looks good on him. See? Fucking annoying.
“Look, just pick a pan, Nick. They’re all basically the same.”
“They’re not though, are they? Because this one is £4, and this one is £29. How the fuck can there be that much difference in price? What does a £29 pan do that a £4 pan can’t?”
“I don’t know, back flips?” Charlie responds dryly.
“Well, I’d pay more than £29 for a pan that could back flip, Char.”
Charlie pauses. Don’t engage, don’t engage, don’t engage, he tells himself, just as he asks, “You would?”
“Are you kidding?” Nick asks incredulously. “It’s an inanimate object that can backflip, Charlie. We’d be rich!”
God, he’s an idiot. Charlie loves him so much.
He links an arm through Nick’s and tries to refocus. “How about this one? £12 seems like a good compromise. I think you’d probably break a £4 pan, and if you wanted to spend actual money then we would’ve gone somewhere else.”
Nick turns his head to smile widely at him. “You’re right. Obviously. £12 it is.”
“Good,” Charlie exhales in relief, turning to move on to the next section.
“Unless…” Nick muses, stopping him from going anywhere. “What if I broke the £12 pan and then I had to buy another one, then we’re already at £24. Wouldn’t it be worth the £29 now to save another broken pan?”
Charlie casts his eyes upwards to a God he doesn’t believe in. Please help me get my boyfriend out of Ikea, he sends into the universe. I promise I’ll be the best boy ever if you get Nick to pick up a fucking frying pan.
“Get the £29 pan then,” he says carefully.
“But… It's a lot of money. We still have the food shop to do after this, and this could be the difference between one can of tuna and four.”
“Nick.”
“Then again, if I got the £4 pan then I can afford to break it, like, 12 times before I’d be at £29.”
If Charlie had a mirror, he’s pretty sure he’d have the blinking white man meme staring back at him because… what? “Nick. In what universe are you getting 12 4s in 29?”
“Don’t maths nerd me, maths nerd.”
“Oh my Christ, Nick. Just pick a fucking pan already!”
It only takes another half an hour, but finally they move on. With no less than twelve £4 frying pans in the trolley that Nick ran back to grab.
“If I’m getting spares, I may as well get a lifetime supply,” he explains, far too happily.
Charlie tries not to glare at the offending kitchenware for ruining his whole day as Nick pushes the trolley happily down the aisles. They make it as far as the lighting section before Nick comes to an abrupt stop, gazing at a complicated structure that Ikea seems to be marketing as a lampshade.
“Ankarspel,” Nick reads out loud from the sign underneath it. “I could probably do with an Ankarspel, right?”
“I’ll ank your arspel in a minute,” Charlie grumbles.
Nick’s mouth twitches. “At least wait until we get home, Char. No one else gets to see my arspel.”
Charlie doesn’t smile. He absolutely does not smile. He’s far too grumpy for that. Nick sees right through his not smiling and grins, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Charlie’s lips.
Bastard.
Something weird happens once they’re through the worst of it. The warehouse section has far less shiny and brightly coloured goodies to distract Nick and he instead pushes the trolley with one hand and takes Charlie’s with the other as they walk towards the tills. Charlie smiles to himself and gives Nick’s fingers a quick squeeze. It’s silly that something so small and normal for them, like holding hands in Ikea, can soften Charlie to the point where he almost feels a little bit mushy. How does it still do that? They are fully grown adults who have been in a relationship for years. How does this still have the power to make him all gooey? It’s very annoying, actually.
He’s saved from the sappy feelings fairly quickly though as he has to watch Nick scan a dozen fucking frying pans through the self-service tills. It’s a little unbearable, actually. And, even more unbearable, is how Nick all but sprints towards the food shop on the other side of the tills once they’re finally through.
He’s practically vibrating with excitement as he looks around. “Oh my God, the elephants!” he exclaims.
Charlie looks over at him like he's grown a second head. “And what could you possibly mean by elephants?” he asks with a heavy sigh.
“Oh my God, you don’t know the elephants? They're about to change your life, I swear.”
Charlie has no idea how some mythical Ikea elephants are going to change his life, but he doesn't have the energy to fight anymore and so he quietly follows Nick in random circles around the aisles while he looks for whatever it is that he wants.
“This can't be right,” he grumbles eventually, his eyes darting around the confectionary area that he’s stopped at three times now. “The elephants were always here. Why aren't they here, Char?”
“Well, I would love to help you look, if I had any clue what you were talking about.”
Nick must be really distraught by the lack of elephants, because he doesn't even pick up on Charlie’s sarcasm and actually explains himself. “Me and mum used to get these sweets every time we came. They’re in the shape of mushrooms, but they had elephants on the packet, so we always called them the elephant sweets. I can't believe they don't do them anymore.”
He looks so sad that Charlie can’t help but pat him on the arm as he says, “To be fair, babe, that was probably a good fifteen years ago.”
“Uh, how dare you?” Nick asks. “I am not old enough for it to have been that long ago, thank you very much.”
Charlie doesn’t actually want to kick him while he's down, so he chooses not to point out that Nick definitely is old enough for that. Instead, he pats at Nick’s arm again. For comforting reasons, and not because his biceps feel really good through his thin long-sleeved t-shirt. Yum.
“I'm going to have to text mum and break the news,” Nick continues, still looking dejected. “She’ll be devastated.”
And, knowing Sarah and her son as well as he does, Charlie is pretty sure that she actually will be.
Charlie is extremely relieved when they finally get back to Nick’s flat. He waits patiently as Nick takes one pan out of the giant blue Ikea bag and leaves it in the middle of the already cluttered kitchen counter like an animal and then drags the rest back to his room. Charlie follows, wondering if Nick will ever love him like he loves his £4 frying pans.
That question is answered when Nick unceremoniously shoves the bag of pans into his cupboard and then pulls Charlie into his arms. Hah! Take that, £4 pans. Charlie wins.
“I’m so tired,” Nick whines as he shoves his face into Charlie’s shoulder and inhales deeply. Charlie knows he smells of sweat and Ikea and misery, but Nick doesn’t seem to care.
“Same,” he breathes, melting into his favourite person’s body. “Nap?”
“God, yes.”
Charlie sags in relief and pulls away to immediately start undressing. This is what he wanted when he’d booked trains to Leeds – him and his boyfriend snuggled up and snoozing the day away like students are meant to. He strips down to his t-shirt and boxers and practically dives onto Nick’s bed, burrowing under the covers with a happy little wiggle. Nick takes longer, humming to himself as he steps out of his joggers and hoodie and then throws them over his desk chair. When he eventually does get down to his boxers, Charlie really wishes that he hadn't.
“Nicholas,” he starts slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Has he not suffered enough already today? Will the horrors never cease? “What in the ever-living fuck is covering your dick right now?”
Nick looks down, seemingly confused by Charlie's comment. He grins widely as he realises what Charlie meant. “Nellie!” he replies, far too happily.
Charlie blinks back at him. He is, in fact, very aware that it was Nellie Nelson's tiny little face printed all over Nick’s boxers. Nick’s very white, very tight boxers. What he didn't know was why.
“Nick,” he says, with as much patience as he can muster. “Why do you have Nellie’s face plastered all over a pair of rather skimpy boxers?”
“They are not skimpy,” Nick defends, glancing down at himself. “Why would I have skimpy Nellie boxers?”
“You tell me! You're the one with skimpy Nellie boxers!”
“Char, stop it! Why are you sullying my girl’s name like this?”
“Me? I'm not the one wearing skimpy boxers with her face all over them!”
“For the last time, they're not skimpy. Stop calling them skimpy! I mean, yes, okay, they may have arrived a size or two smaller than I expected…”
“You ordered them?” Charlie checks, making a face that he wouldn’t even begin to know how to describe. “Of your own free will?”
Nick, still looking down at himself, pouts. “They're cute. This way I can always have her with me.
“Yeah. On your dick.”
“Charlie! Stop making it weird!” Nick squawks, looking even unhappier than he did when he discovered that Ikea didn’t stock elephants.
“I can't believe you're turning this around on me,” Charlie huffs. “Me! When you literally have Nellie dick right now!”
“Don't say Nellie dick! Why would you say Nellie dick?!”
Charlie is very aware that this could go on for hours, so he lets out a long breath and tries to calm down. “Nicholas. Will you and your perfectly… reasonable underwear please come to bed so we can nap?”
Nick looks like he wants to throw a bit more of a tantrum, but he eventually gives up when Charlie opens his arms. At that, Nick practically dives on top of him and immediately snuggles in. Nothing if not predictable, this boy.
Charlie is almost asleep when Nick huffs and shifts his legs, kicking Charlie in the process.
“Can’t sleep,” he complains. Charlie pretends he can’t hear him. “Chaaar. I know you’re awake. Do you want to bump penises?”
Charlie’s eyes fly open. “Do I fucking want to what?”
“Hah, thought that might wake you up.”
“You’re disgusting. I’m disgusted.”
“Cool. So… sex?”
Well, he drives a hard bargain. Charlie considers for a moment and then relents. “Fine, but only if you never say bump penises ever again in your whole entire life.”
“I can't make any promises, but I'll try my best,” Nick vows.
Charlie supposes that will have to do for now. He makes sure Nick can’t say anything else gross by kissing him thoroughly. He tugs at Nick’s shoulder until he gets the hint and rolls on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. Charlie sighs happily into the kiss, running a hand down Nick’s back until he reaches his arse and -
“Wait, stop,” Charlie says, and Nick springs back off him in a millisecond.
“What? Are you okay?”
“Nick, I simply cannot, in good conscience, touch your penis when there are 500 Nellie’s looking back at me.”
Nick goes from concerned to exasperated in an instant, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Char.”
“I'm serious! Would that even be legal? It’s actually wrong to even have an erection with these on, Nick.”
“You're making it weird again,” Nick whines.
“I'm definitely not the one that made this weird.”
“Fine,” Nick huffs, reaching for the offending item. “I'll take them off, then.”
“That is the correct answer, yes. Do it quickly and discreetly please, I don't want her tiny little face to see me like this.”
“Charlie!” Nick gasps, scandalised. He covers as many of Nellie’s little faces as he can with one hand, which is fucking ridiculous in every way.
Charlie cackles and turns away. It was amusing, but he wasn’t lying. He really doesn’t want precious Nellie to see him like this. No. Nick can dispose of them without Nellie needing to see anything at all, thank you very much.
19.04, Nick ❤️🐶🖕🏼
Char
Disaster has struck
19.11, Charlie ❤️🐶🖕🏼
omg you cannot have broken another pan this quickly
i mean it’s fine because you have ELEVEN MORE
but seriously
no no
it’s nothing to do with the pan
it’s football related
oh okay
so i won’t care then
cool xxxx
CHARLES
My heart is broken
My favourite player is injuredddddddd
oh!
peter salami?
Peter
Salami…….
yeah! you made me learn his name
wasn’t that it?
no wait
merick salad! that’s it
You’re such a fucking melon oh my god
I swear you remembered it once
adam manana?
*facepalm gif*
nick
please
i got on the curling train for three minutes but that’s my sports quota filled for the year
you’re gonna have to help me out here
Mo Salah
OH YEAH
i know him!
soz for your loss xox
😩😩😩
yeah that
anyway…
You’re a bellend, Spring
I’m actually in mourning here
okay babe xox
so the weathers nice, hey?
Fine
Want me to be sappy instead? Because I can, you know
Prepare yourself
Here we go…
Hey Char?
When you’re finally done with uni
And post-uni uni
And post-uni uni uni
And we both have jobs that will obviously make us super rich
We’re going to buy the shit out of all of Ikea and have the fanciest house
oh yeah?
on your teacher’s salary?
Probably on your fancy editors’ salary tbf
I’ll be your trophy husband
it worries me that you think i’ll have a good salary
Nah you will though
Because, like, Stephen King and Margaret Atwood and all the people with lots of money will want to hire you
Like Shakespeare
From the grave
That’s how good you’ll be
mhmm
i am fairly certain that shakespeare’s first stop post-grave will be my door for some very inexperienced editing
So glad you get it x
He’ll make you so rich that we won’t go to Ikea at all
We’ll go to, like…
Where do rich people go for house stuff?
fucking ikea these days
you saw the price of the sofas!!!
someone needs to tell sweden we’re in a fucking cossie livs babes
though tbf, if we’d summoned THE william shakespeare from his grave, we’d be pretty rich anyway
no salaries needed
people everywhere would want our services
so true bestie x
i hate that darcy taught you that
Okurrrr
Or something
Anyway yeah I like this business plan
We’ll be rich enough for at least seven Ikea sofas!
what, to go with your 12 ikea pans???
exactly, so glad you see my vision xxx
i’m going to be tripping over those pans for the rest of my life, aren’t i?
i’ll be 90 and that box will be sitting in our hallway and they’ll make me fall down the stairs
i’m going to die because of these pans, nick
Awwww you’re going to love me when you’re 90
But also it’s okay because I’ll bring you back
Just you, me, and Shakesy P hanging out for eternity
i’m not sure that’s my dream dinner party tbf
Nah I think he’d be decent company
He could tell us all the old school gay stories!!
Bet he got up to some shit
i didn’t mean him xox
Oh look
Charlie’s being a twat
What a shocking turn of events
Can we go back to you talking about how you’ll love me and my dozen pans when we’re 90???
no we cannot
You’re such a bully
Come back and bully me to my face
Coward
i wish
One day
Us and our dozen pans will live in the same house and we will never have to travel again
Happy sigh
ew x
Lol as if
You love us
Me and the pans xoxoxox
you’re all insufferable actually
out of all of you though, i probably like you best
apart from when we’re in ikea
then i love the ankarspel best
Next time I’m taking mum anyway
She’s way more fun
thank fuck
i do think it’s quite important for our relationship that we don’t ever go to ikea together again
Hm
I accept these terms on one condition
what’s that then?
and why do i immediately feel like i’m going to regret asking that?
The condition is
Marry me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
oh fuck off