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Will wakes up with a screaming headache and back pain so intense that, for a moment, all he can do is to keep breathing. His fingers claw at the sheets as the world slowly rights itself around him. He feels sore all over and his temples throb along with every of his heartbeats. God, he should really stop with the wine, he thinks, before slowly blinking open his eyes.
He immediately blinks them again, finding himself confronted not with the familiar walls of his bedroom but somewhere entirely unfamiliar. He’s inside a small home, consisting of just one room with a big fireplace and several beds.
He sighs. Great, so he stayed at someone else’s place then. That certainly explains the soreness. Now he only needs to get himself out of here before that other person can return, asking him for an autograph, a favour or whatever lunacy it is these pesky people keep coming up with.
He’s just about to push himself to his elbows when the door opposite him opens. Sunshine spills inside from behind the silhouette of an uncomfortably familiar looking person. Will lets out an, admittedly, quite unmanly scream.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Nick Bottom says, emptying a bucket of water into the pot over the fire. “I thought you might sleep through the whole day.”
Will just blinks again, trying to decide whether this is a dream or a nightmare. It might be a bit of both, actually. Surely not even the wine would have convinced him to- But obviously he’s here, and Nick’s here and- Lord, he really needs to stop with the wine.
He chuckles nervously, pulling the bedsheets up to cover his chest. Not that it would matter, seeing as Nick will have seen most of it last night anyway. And- oh god, the headache intensifies. “Nick, um, w-what a delightful surprise,” he tries to cover his growing panic with a laugh. “I-um- wasn’t expecting to wake up here.”
Nick crosses his arms and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Believe me, neither was I,” he says, turning back to his work.
The words spark a flicker of hope in Will’s chest. Maybe Nick doesn’t remember their encounter either? Maybe they could be spared the embarrassment of having to look into each other’s eyes, while always knowing what it was like to moan the other’s name. Not that Will wouldn’t delight in making Nick uncomfortable with lewd suggestions but-
Hm. Maybe this thing is salvageable after all. How does it feel, Nick, to finally have had your shot at the great William Shakespeare? Really, Nick, why so hateful? You didn’t sound like you hated it when I was pressing you against the sheets last week. Yeah, Will thinks he likes the tone of that. He fixes his smile into something suggestive.
Nick studies him in a way that is, unfortunately, decidedly unsexy. “How are you feeling?”
Will laughs, putting it off with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine.”
As if one night would have any lasting effect on him. He’s had far worse.
He tries to sit up, only to find that he’s, in fact, not fine at all. Oh god, why does everything hurt so much?
Nick hums, gleefully. “Not…a bit sore down there?”
That sly devil. He’s enjoying all of this way too much. And, oh God, does this mean that Nick was the one to press Will against the sheets? Will the indignity never end?
Will grits his teeth, finally managing to push himself into a sitting position. “Maybe a bit.”
Nick hums again. “Well, no wonder. You did end up taking quite a bit.”
So, Nick does remember. That does put Will at a…slight disadvantage. It’s also absolutely terrifying to think about. If only Will would stop drinking so much wine!
And, anyway, how dare Nick say such salacious things in his presence? Does he not know the effect it will have on other people? Will is suddenly feeling all kinds of things. Pain is only one of them.
He tries to hide his furious blush behind an innocent grin. He’s always been great at spinning situations to his advantage. “Is that why you let me stay here?” He pouts mockingly. “Really, Nick, what would your wife say?”
Nick huffs. “Well, she’s usually disappointed by most of my choices.” Frustratingly, he doesn’t seem bothered at all. He shakes his head, pulling some fabric from the boiling water. “But, no. This was actually at her insistence.”
Will swears his jaw almost hits the floor. “Your wife was involved in this?”
Nick shrugs. “Well, someone had to lift you up. And - I hate to say this - but she is far more endurant than I am.” He says it casually like discussing an everyday activity, not like something that might potentially end both their careers.
Will, on the other hand, can only gape as he feels an overwhelming warmth pooling inside his stomach. He only manages a broken cough. He’s sure his blush must be visible from the other side of the room. God, he might not make it out alive after all. He really, really should stop with the wine.
Nick gives a nod in his general direction. “You might want to have another look at those bruises,” he suggests.
“Oh, bruises too then?” Will asks faintly. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.
“I did say it got a little rough,” Nick says, giving a short smile. He picks up a small vial from the table, showing it to Will. “Bea put some ointment on down there that she says is supposed to help. I'm not entirely sure about that.” He shrugs. “I still could have another go at it if you want me to, though.”
Will doesn’t understand how Nick can handle all of this so calmly. He’s never considered the man to be particularly adventurous. If anything, Nick always seemed uptight and less than thrilled by Will’s suggestive chat-up. So how can he be so unbothered by all of this now, while Will feels like he’s actively dying? He might be dead already, actually.
“Oh, I-I'm not sure I can get it up again,” he laughs nervously.
Nick frowns. “We can do it lying down if you want to.”
Will makes a choked sound. God, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with this right now. His heard hurts like he was run over by a horse cart. He really, really, really should stop with the wine.
“You're very eager, aren't you?” He laughs, desperately thinking of a way out. “W-what do you say I instead give you the ol’ rub in return?” he suggests.
“What?” Nick frowns. “The ol’ rub?- W-what the hell are you talking about?”
Will blinks. “What are you talking about?”
“Your banged up leg!”
“Oh.” Will goes a very dark shade of red.
So, he might need to throw himself out of the window after all. Only it won’t do him any good, because the Bottom’s house is too damn small and there are no higher storeys to jump from. So, he’ll probably just end up eating a face of dirty and making an even bigger fool of himself.
Nick gives him a weird look. “Wait, what were you talking about?”
Will laughs. “N-Not sure I should say.”
Nick’s frowns deepens, until finally his eyes widen. “D-did you think we had sex?”
Will coughs awkwardly. “I’m just saying too much wine makes a man do many surprising things.”
Nick immediately burst out laughing. “Oh, that's just glorious, isn't it?”
Will blushes. He still feels hot all over, waiting for a convenient lightning strike to put him out of his misery. But Nick’s laughter also leaves a spark of irritation. Nobody dares to laugh at the idea of having sex with William Shakespeare!
Will purses his lips “So, what is it, Nick? You find the idea of somebody wanting to bed you so ridiculous?”
Nick keeps laughing. “No, but the idea that the great William Shakespeare of all people would-” he has to stop himself because he’s laughing too hard again.
Will’s jaw flexes angrily. “What, you don’t like me being with men? It’s the 90s, Nick. Get over yourself.”
Nick stops laughing, instead grinning cheekily. “You think so low of me Will.” He shakes his head. “I have read your sonnets. I know the things you’re up to.”
Will perks up at that. “So, you have read my sonnets?”
Nick rolls his eyes. “Really, this is what you’re taking away from this?”
Will huffs. “Well, I’m just surprised you could stand to read them.”
Nick wrings out the boiled fabric, putting it onto a stack of other rags. “Because they’re written by you or because you keep going on about that ‘Fair Lord’?”
Will shrugs. “Both.”
Nick hums. “You know, Will, I can consume your work, if I want to. Doesn’t have to mean I actually have to like it.” He crosses his arms. “And, for reference, I am not the one who had a problem with you being interested in men. That was the other people.”
Will frowns. “What other people?”
“The people who did this to you?”
“Did what to me?”
“Jesus, how much wine did you have?” Nick pinches the bridge of his nose, before grabbing the blankets on top of Will. “The people who did this.”
With a flourish, he pulls back the sheet and Will gets the first look at the bruised mess that might have been his leg at some point. Now it’s just a canvas for all kinds of shades of black, blue and purple. There are bandages, wrapped around the upper part of his thigh, where he can see dried blood that must have soaked through it.
Will suddenly feels very faint. “Oh my god,” he whispers. “I’m crippled.”
Nick rolls his eyes, collecting different kinds of bottles from a table nearby. “Oh, you always have to be such a drama queen, don't you? It’s fine. There’s not even a bone broken. Here see-”
He starts prodding at Will’s leg, in a fashion that leaves Will not entirely confident that he knows what he’s doing.
Will flinches when he hits a particularly dark spot. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s beyond saving.”
Nick throws him a tried look. “It’s going to be fine.” He frowns, inspecting the bloodstains on the cloth. “We do need to change the bandage though.”
He puts his collected stuff down on the bed next to Will and then goes to unwrap the fabric from it. His fingers make nimble work of the not. For a moment, Will isn’t sure whether the faintness he feels is from blood loss or the way Nick’s fingers ghost over his skin.
Will makes a high sound in the back of his throat. “Well, you get beaten up like this.”
“Oh, I have,” Nick says, chuckling. “In fact, I think those guys yesterday were pretty close to giving me the same treatment when I stepped in.” He picks up one of the rags from next to him. “If Bea hadn’t been there. I-I don’t know what would have happened.”
Will frowns. “And I-”
“Oh, you were no help at all.” Nick laughs. “The wine did not do you any favours.”
Will gives an embarrassed cough. So, it was the wine after all. Good all it ever did him.
There is still something that is rubbing him the wrong way about the whole thing though. “But if this was never about you,” he starts. “W-why did you interfere then? Why not leave me there?”
Nick’s eyes fall down to his hands. “Because our kind has to stick together, don’t we?” He hesitates. “As I said, I-I have read your sonnets.”
Will swallows thickly. He’s not sure he knows what Nick’s words are supposed to mean. He’s not sure he hopes he knows what they are supposed to mean either. He’s not sure whether what he hopes they are supposed to mean is a good thing. And why is he suddenly feeling so hot?
“You-you have?” he stammers.
Nick sighs. “I would never judge you for liking men, Will,” he says, surprisingly softly. He smiles faintly. “I will, however, judge you for your taste in them.”
Will barely manages a crooked smile in return. He’s suddenly overly aware of the beating of his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears.
Nick finishes the rest of the dressing process in comfortable silence. The movements of his hands are practiced and careful. Will finds he can’t turn his eyes away from the way he inspects every bruise with a concentrated frown. Every time their skins meet, he feels a spark of electricity running through him.
He’s not sure how to feel about any of it. Nick and him don’t really get along on the best of days, partly due to Will’s own fault. To find Nick still so readily offering his help when Will needed it is…unbalancing to say the least. Still there is some warmth there that Will has never felt with anyone else before. Kinship perhaps. An understanding of kinds.
When Nick is finished rebandaging, he puts his tools back on the table. Will watches him quietly. Finally, he finds that he can’t keep it to himself any longer. He catches the other man’s hand is his.
“Thank you, Nick,” he says, pressing a kiss to it.
Nick freezes, before his lips soften into a smile. His other hand finds the side of Will’s face, where his thumb traces along Will’s lower lip. Then he leans forward, capturing it in a quiet kiss.
For a moment, this is how they stay: just a few centimetres apart, their foreheads barely touching, content in the other’s company.
Finally, Will grins. “Now what is your wife going to say?”
Nick huffs a laugh. “As I said before, she’s usually disappointed by most of my choices.” He picks himself up from the bed, resting a hand on Will’s shoulder. “You should stay for dinner then you can ask her yourself.”
“Is this an invitation to stay for dessert?” Will waggles his eyebrows.
Nick rolls his eyes, throwing one of the rags at him. “Get your leg to work again first. Then we can talk.”
Will raises an eyebrow. “Oh, but we can talk?”
“God, I hate you,” Nick says, turning back to the stove. There is a faint smile playing on his lips though.
Will grins. Maybe the wine wasn’t such a bad thing after all.