Work Text:
Nick’s heart is punching against his ribs as he pushes himself through the crowd to the front of the pub. He feels clammy, sweaty and just overall pretty unwell. Still, his steps are determined. He’s had a lot of time to think about this and there is no shaking his decision.
His knees tremble as he heaves himself onto the table. The room is only dimly lit so he can’t make out the faces of the people further in the back. He can hear and smell them, though. They’re reduced to a mass of faceless strangers.
It’s a bit like going on stage for a performance, he thinks. This might be his last one, however.
With a deep breath he swallows the rest of his fear.
“Hear, good people!” he shouts.
The murmuring dies, as all heads turn in his direction. His stomach sinks.
“Hear, good people, for I have an offer to make.” His voice wavers. “And the offer I’m making is-is…” He swallows. “-myself.”
He takes a deep breath. “After today I shall belong to the person who is willing to pay the most money to my family. Offered in coin and up front.”
He stares into their expressionless faces. “So, do I hear any biddings?”
For a minute, there is only silence. Then the crowd erupts into laughter.
“Buy you?” one man hollers. “Why would we want to do that?”
“Yeah, what skills do you have?” a second one calls.
“How do we know you’re not just going to keel over tomorrow?” a woman chimes in. “Look, boys, he’s barely more than a beanstalk!”
More laughter.
It’s true. He’s no sight to behold. He’s exhausted, he’s dirty and he’s thin form skipping one too many meals. It was one of his many concerns when the plan had first formed in his head a couple of weeks ago. But he told himself he had to try anyway.
He tries to pull himself to his full height, pushing out his chest. “I can do manual labour,” he insists almost pleadingly. “I’m of good health. Anything you want me to do.”
There is silence for a moment then-
“I bid a penny,” a voice from the back calls.
“I bid two!” another is quick to shout.
Nick isn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or terrified by the fact that his plan actually seems to work. He supposes the ale is also doing some heavy lifting here, as groups of drunken friends goad each other on.
“Show me your teeth, lad,” a man closer to the front calls. “I’ll bid you five pennies, if your teeth are alright.” He turns to the man next to him. “You always have to check the teeth,” he explains with a self-important nod.
“Yeah, show us your teeth!” another man further in the back agrees.
“I-” Nick stammers. He tries to oblige but the enthusiasm of the crowd is slowly wresting control of the situation from him.
“Teeth!” they chant repeatedly. Someone throws their pint across the room.
Finally, they seem to tire of his hesitancy. Nick can only stumble backwards as a young man jumps onto the table next to him. He hauls Nick around, forcing him to his knees until he is trapped between the man’s thighs. His hand grabs Nick’s jaw, pushing open his mouth.
The crowd roars.
“I bid ten pennies!” “I’m giving a shilling!”
The noise is now almost dizzying. The air seems to grow hotter by the minute as they press ever closer to his impromptu stage. A few minutes more and he might be swallowed by them. And what good will his plan be then?
“Take off his shirt!” someone shouts.
“Yeah, I want to see the merchandise!” a woman closer to the front agrees.
The young man obliges, tearing at Nick’s shirt. It gives way after only a few tugs, putting his skin into contact with the moist pub air instead.
Nick flinches as the screaming grows even louder, people shouting offers left and right. He tries to shield himself, but his captor is keeping a tight grip. It is slowly beginning to dawn on him that his plan might not have been so fail proof after all.
He feels himself beginning to tremble as he stares into the distorted masks of frenzy in front of him. The idea of having to go home with one of them is so alien and frightening, his mind doesn’t even dare to think it. That is if they don’t rip him to shreds right here and now.
“Five pounds,” a voice suddenly calls. It’s loud, commanding and also oddly…familiar?
The room falls silent.
“I’m bidding five pounds. Any higher offers?”
The crowd exchanges hushed whispers as they part around the owner of the voice.
“Good, then I believe that’s settled. You can all go home now.”
There are few grumbling objections but then – surprisingly – the people seem to comply. Slowly but surely, they all return to whatever it is they were doing before.
The young man, too, releases the grip on Nick’s jaw, letting him drop to the ground unceremoniously.
Nick stares at the dirt all over the floorboards as he desperately tries to force air back into his lungs. He is still shaking like a leaf.
He can hear the owner of the voice approaching him with deliberate steps. His owner, he tries not to think. His heart still gives a frightened squeeze.
The first thing appearing in his line of vision is a pair of very nice leather boots.
He looks up, his chest heaving.
William Shakespeare is standing over him, trademark smirk on his face. “Hello, Nicholas. So good to see you.”
Nick follows Will home without saying a single word. He has the remnants of his shirt wrapped around his shoulders - a laughable protection against the many strange looks they get along their way. All the while, he feels like he is walking towards his end, something heavy and ominous hanging in the air.
Will’s home is gigantic, because of course it is. There is a servant who opens the door for them and leads them to what Nick assumes is Will’s study. The walls are lined with books Nick couldn’t even dream to afford. It has a nice granite fireplace with a couple a plush settees positioned around it.
Will lets himself fall onto one of them, arranging himself luxuriously with folded legs and a glass of wine in his hand. He reminds Nick of a big cat ready to pounce. He certainly has the sleek elegance of one. He motions for Nick to sit next to him.
“So, tell me,” he starts, stirring the glass in his hand, “why sell yourself? Is the writing really going that badly?”
Nick’s silence is probably answer enough.
Will laughs. “My, really Nick, I thought you would have given up by now.”
Nick clenches his jaw. “So, tell me,” he mocks Will’s tone, “why would you want to buy me then?”
Will grins, sharply. “Oh, I could think of a few things.” He leans towards Nick, his fingers finding their way to Nick’s hair and tracing down the side of his face with almost taunting tenderness.
Nick tries to suppress the shiver running down his back. He swats Will’s hand away. “No touching the merchandise,” he presses out. “Not until payment is done.”
Will pouts mockingly. “You’re no fun, did you know that?” Still, he complies, pulling out a bag of coins from a drawer and counting them in his hand. “Five pounds, as promised,” he says, pushing them into Nick’s palm.
Nick shakes his head. “Send them to my wife.”
Will gives him an eyebrow. “Your wife?” He shrugs. “So, did she finally want to get rid of you? You know, I've never known her to be a particularly resentful woman, but I guess even the most patient of souls can only go so far.”
Nick doesn’t react to his deliberate provocation. Instead, he watches as Will bags up the money and then calls onto one of his servants to deliver it. Only when that is done, do his shoulders finally sack. He feels a kind of acceptant calm overcoming him. Whatever happens to him now, at least he’ll know that his family will be safe.
He turns to Will, grim determination on his face. “What is it you want me to do then?”
Will hums, sinking back down in his chair. He gives Nick a calculating once over. “I don’t know. What are your skills?”
Nick crosses his arms, glaring. “You’re well aware of my skills. We’ve known each other for years.”
Will grins, taking a sip from his wine. “Well, maybe I want you to sell yourself better.”
“Sell myse- you’ve already bought me!” Nick sputters.
Will flutters his eyelids in a manner that makes Nick want to punch him. He thinks that might complicate things between them, though. He doesn’t need to make the rest of his life any more miserable than it already is. “So shouldn’t you be nicer to me?”
Nick huffs. “It didn’t say anything about being nice in the agreement.”
Will flashes his teeth. “Indeed.”
Then, suddenly, he jumps to his feet. “I have an idea. Come one.” He says, stalking towards one of the adjoining rooms without so much as a single look over his shoulder, so that Nick has no choice but to stumble after him.
It’s the bedroom they enter now, just as flashy as the study, with big tapestries on the walls and a gigantic bed in its middle.
Nick eyes the latter warily. He was - when he made this deal - well aware of certain associated risks, and, of course, he also knows of the many rumours concerning Shakespeare’s sexual preferences. It doesn’t need a genius to put two and two together and get some idea of what Nick’s time here might entail.
Still, seeing that reality visualised before him in such sturdy form, he can’t help but swallow.
Will doesn’t lead him towards the bed, though. Instead, he kneels in front of a large wooden crate, twisting open its lock.
“Yes, I think we might find something here,” he mumbles, pulling out a dark blue shirt from among what is revealed to be a quite impressive collection of clothes. He holds the garment against Nick’s chest, before resolutely shaking his head and moving onto the next one.
Finally, he seems to have found what he was looking for. With a nod, he deposits a dark-green velvet shirt into Nick’s arms. “Wonderful. I think a bath should be in order too.”
Nick is too stunned to protest when he finds himself ushered into yet another room.
Three hours later, he’s clean - his skin almost raw from being scrubbed so many times- and he’s wearing new clothes that feel confusingly soft on his skin. Will has joined him at the gigantic dinner table, watching Nick devour his third serving of stew.
Will himself isn’t eating anything, but he’s made considerable progress on yet another bottle of wine. He is also sitting unnecessarily close, considering the table could probably fit Nick’s entire acting troupe. His eyes haven’t left Nick for even a single second.
“Do you like it?” he asks after an almost unbearably long silence.
Nick interrupts his eating long enough to raise an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
Will frowns. “So, you don’t like it?”
“Why is it important to you if I like it?”
“Because I want you to have fun!” Will does that infuriating pout again.
Nick sighs deeply. He can’t believe fate had to settle him with an actual man-child. Will’s constant staring is starting to grate on his nerves—a situation not exactly helped by the exhaustion weighing heavily inside his bones. Still, better not to go into full-on confrontation just yet.
He picks up his cutlery, stapling a very unconvincing smile onto his face. Then he takes another bite, making exuberant noises of enjoyment.
Will scowls. “You’re not having fun!”
Nick throws up his hands in exasperation. “You can’t order me to have fun! That’s not how it works!”
“Well, maybe you’re not trying hard enough!”
Nick lets out a tired breath, pushing away his plate. “I can’t believe we’re having this argument.” He massages his forehead. “To be perfectly honest, I’m very tired of all of this.”
Will gives him a long look. For a moment, it seems he’s about to say something else, but then he just hums. “Perhaps we should get you to bed then.” He calls over one of the servants to dispose of Nick’s plate.
Nick doesn’t protest. The events of the day have left him pretty exhausted, even if he isn’t sure he’ll be able to fall asleep. Not with the anxiety drumming in his veins. Still, getting a reprieve from Will’s verbal assaults and, more importantly, staring does sound like an appealing option.
That is until Will leads him right back to his personal bed chamber.
Nick watches him with suspicion. The anxious drumming grows louder. “Where do you want me to sleep then?” he asks, keeping his voice surprisingly steady.
Will frowns. “Well, the bed, of course. I thought that was obvious.”
“Of course.” Nick swallows, slowly kicking off his shoes.
For a moment, he just stands there like a complete, barefooted idiot, while Will rearranges the pillows in some order, only he understands. His heart is struggling against his ribcage.
Finally, Will motions for him to get in. Nick obeys, crawling over the outrageously soft mattress before settling between the soft cushions. The feeling is divine. It’s like lying on a cloud – soft and feathery light. He’s not sure he’ll be able to get even a wink of sleep.
He tries to adjust his position, so that it might become just the slightest bit uncomfortable - but to no avail. The pillows are too soft. He decidedly does not look in the direction of where Will is currently unbuttoning his shirt. His head feels like it’s going to explode.
Once he’s done undressing, Will joins him on the bed. Thankfully, he’s still wearing his undergarments. The sight leaves Nick’s mouth uncomfortably dry, nonetheless.
Will falls down next to him, their faces only a few centimetres apart. He’s staring again. “I apologize. I didn’t have time to arrange for another bed,” he says, sounding not apologetic at all.
Nick wiggles to the side, so that there is a little more space between them. “That’s what you get for making premature buys,” he growls.
Will doesn’t comment on his snide remark, instead pulling the blanket around both their shoulders. “Are you comfortable like this?”
“Yes,” Nick grunts, turning around so he doesn’t have to keep staring into Will’s face.
“I could get you more pillows if you need them.”
Nick closes his eyes and sends a silent prayer up to whoever is going to listen. “No, I don’t and if you don’t stop asking questions, I will smother you with one of them.”
Will snickers. “I say, Nicholas, you - doing pillow talk? I thought I’d never see the day.”
Nick only growls in response, which at last seems to give Will the hint. He falls silent.
Nick closes his eyes but can’t really seem to find any peace. His brain is filled with constant buzzing. He tries to rearrange his limbs again, but the sea of softness keeps swallowing him anyway.
Will seems to take this as his cue to restart his insolent questioning. “You aren’t too cold?”
“Just go to fucking sleep!” Nick snarls.
“As you please.”
And, for one moment, Nick thinks Will might actually stick to his word. That is until he finds a leg thrown over his thigh and a hand snaking around his waist.
His heart starts beating so rapidly that the walls seem to shake with it.
“W-what the hell are you doing?” he hisses, forcing his voice to stay calm.
Will hums innocently. “Sleeping?”
“On me?!”
“I’m just making sure you’re warm enough.”
“I am warm enough!”
He is. The blankets alone are much warmer than the thin sheet he’s used to sleeping with. But now, with the added heat of Will’s body all around him, it’s almost like sitting next to an open fireplace. And that’s not even speaking about the uncomfortable heat the contact kindles in Nick’s stomach. The air is full of the musky smell of Will’s cologne, mixed with some traces of the fruity wine.
Will huffs. “Maybe I just think it’s more comfortable like this.”
Nick honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that. He knew what he was getting himself into, the moment he walked into that bar. He knew it would end up in a situation like this. Or, more likely, with someone’s hand down his pants. So, maybe he can count himself lucky that Will’s disregard of his personal space is only in such innocent manner. Yet, anyway.
He lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes. This is his life now, he reminds himself. He might as well get used to it.
Instead, he forces himself to think of the people he is doing it for. Bea. Nigel. The baby. If he tries really hard, he can almost imagine the arm around his waist to be that of his wife. Imagine the sound of breathing to be that of his family in their one room home.
After a while, his heartrate starts to slow. His breath evens out, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him.
As he falls asleep, he swears he can hear someone murmuring a familiar “Sleep well, Nicky,” against his hair.
Nick is still asleep when the first rays of sunlight spill through the curtains – a fact which Will is very glad about. He seemed so exhausted yesterday, and Will honestly thought he would have to knock the other man out to get him to finally fall asleep.
Will is propped up against a mountain of cushions, silently studying Nick’s features.
Nick looks older than Will remembers him. There are lines all over his face and his hair has begun to grey around his temples. They’re still just as soft though, Will learns as he runs careful fingers through them.
The exhaustion is written all over Nick’s body. There are dark rings beneath his eyes which Will traces with the lightest of touch. He’s also thinner, his collarbones peaking visibly from beneath his skin. Will has no doubt it’s something to do with that ridiculous self-sacrificing streak of his again.
Still, Nick is beautiful. Bathed in the warm morning light he almost seems to glow. His eyelashes are long, his nose perfectly shaped. With every of his breaths a puff escapes from between his soft lips.
Will thinks there might be a sonnet in there somewhere. But to get his quill and paper he’d have to get up, and he doesn’t want to risk waking the other man. So, he contends himself with waiting and watching.
It’s better like this, with Nick asleep and relaxed. Will honestly thought he was going to work himself into a frenzy yesterday. And even if he greatly enjoys their little squabbles, it’s no real fun with the genuine fear he saw shining behind Nick’s eyes.
He’s not really sure what he was hoping to gain from all of this. To buy Nick’s love? Steamy sex? More time that he could pretend they were still friends? None of those seem particularly realistic right now. At least not in the way Will wants them to happen anyway. If he’s being honest, it was probably more of a knee-jerk reaction. Seeing the way that crowd was leering over Nick - well, he had to do something.
Nick lets out a soft noise in his sleep. Will pulls the blankets back around his shoulders.
He aches to make it all better. When he looks at Nick his heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze. He longs to hold, to wrap Nick in his arms and protect him from everything this cruel world did to him. But he knows that Nick would never allow that. He-
His musings are interrupted by a loud knock at the door. It’s so loud in fact that the walls around them rattle concerningly. Will hears the door being answered by his butler. Only seconds later, the man appears in the doorway to his bedroom.
“Master Shakespeare, there is a woman here to see you.”
Will has a growing suspicion what woman he might be talking about. With a sigh, he pushes himself to his feet, careful not to wake Nick.
“Beatrice,” he says, when he arrives in the lobby, still tying his silk robe around his waist. “What a pleasure to see you.”
Beatrice Bottom does not concern herself with introductions. “Where is my husband?”
Will crosses his arms, blocking her way further into the house. “Why do you think he would be here?”
She gives him a look. “Please, only one man would be stupid enough to buy my idiot husband.”
Will hums. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Of course, Nick chooses that exact moment to stumble from Will’s bedchamber. He looks like he’s just woken up, his hair all over the place and his eyes bleary. Still, they immediately fix onto his wife.
“Bea!” he says, hurrying towards her.
Will is very aware of the image he’s producing here. Nick exiting his bedchamber with both of them only half-dressed – it does evoke certain ideas. One half of him wants her to misread the signs, just to see the look of horror on her face. The other half is somewhere between embarrassed and absolutely terrified. While Will might not be particularly concerned with the happiness of Nick’s marriage, he’s still realistically concerned with his public image. Not that Bea would win if taken to the court of public, but, in his humble opinion, Bea Bottom alone can be a lot more intimidating than your average angry mob.
Her expression instantly sours. She crosses her arms. “What the hell where you thinking?!”
“Um,” Nick smiles sheepishly.
“I wake up and you aren’t there! And then this-this man arrives handing me vast sums of money, saying his Master bought my husband. How is that supposed to make me feel?”
Nick sighs. “I’m sorry Bea.” He grabs her arm, pulling her to the other side of the room.
Will watches them with an annoyed grimace on his face.
“I was doing it for you,” Nick whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind Bea’s ear. “You know as well as I do, that we need the money. And like this you and the little one will be set for life.”
It’s only then that Will notices the slight bulging of her belly. His stomach gives an uncomfortable churn.
It’s not exactly jealously. There is something else to it too. Perhaps it's because, up until now, he'd been able to convince himself that what he was doing was okay. Morally grey maybe, but a small price to pay for the greater good.
After seeing them together and understanding the whole extend of their situation, however, he’s overcome by an annoyingly insistent feeling of guilt.
Bea pushes Nick away with a frustrated noise. “And you think the best way of doing that is selling yourself?!”
Nick runs a tired hand over his face. “Well, I have no other skills, so it was the only thing I could offer!”
She shakes her head angrily. “And what would I do without my husband? Have you thought about that? How am I supposed to raise a kid on my own?”
“Well, you have Nigel and-”
She glares. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
It’s time for Will to step in he decides. He can’t have the two of them ripping each other apart in his foyer. What a mess that would be. “I do have a guest bed that I’d be happy to offer for the time of your delivery,” he suggests.
“So, there is a guest bed!?” Nick exclaims.
It turns out that interfering might have been a stupid thing to do, Will learns, as Bea’s fury is now directed directly at him. He swallows, taking a careful step back.
“Don’t you think I have forgotten about you!” Bea growls, raising a threatening finger. “I can’t believe you would support him in this lunacy!”
Will crosses his arms with an irritated frown. Sure, he’s never really liked Bea Bottom for obvious reasons, but he just can’t believe the nerve of that god damn woman! Who is she to berate him for helping her husband in a situation of need! Does she not understand the things that could have happened? And Will was only trying to treat Nick right, contrary to what the poor man obviously experienced with her during the last couple of months.
“I took good care of him,” he spits, pulling himself up to his full height.
Bea seems little intimidated though. “And I’m still his wife. And I’m pregnant, so-” She nods in Nick’s direction. “We’re leaving.” The pair breezes past Will without so much as turning around. “You can talk this out another time. After I’m done with him.”
Nick opens his mouth to protest, but she silences him with another glare. “No, you don’t get a say in this! You’ve lost your right to talk!”
Will shakes his head. “You can’t take him! I bought him!”
Beneath the anger there is a fear there he doesn’t quite like to admit to. He’s only just gotten Nick for himself. He can’t have him taken away again this quickly.
Bea huffs. “I’m buying him back then,” she says, handing him a familiar pouch of coins.
Will crosses his arms. “Well, the price has just gone up, I’m afraid.”
Bea gives him a tired look. “Right.” She massages her forehead. “I’m buying half of him then,” she says, taking half of the coins from the pouch and handing them to Will in a weirdly collected manner. “You can have him every other day and I’ll keep him the rest of the time.” She raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”
Will is honestly too stunned to say anything.
Bea takes that as a sign of his agreement and nods. “Pleasure doing business with you.” She pushes Nick out the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow.”
Will can only blink as the door falls shut behind them.
Bea delivers Nick to Will’s doorstep at precisely 10 am the next morning. Nick’s still not sure how to feel about the entire thing. He’s had a whole day to overanalyse Will’s insistence to buy him, and he’s come up with three different possible reasons for the trouble he finds himself in.
He says it was a whole day. Actually, it was only half as the other half was spend with a lengthy lecture from Bea.
First there is the obvious one which would be sex. Nick doesn’t understand why Will wouldn’t be able to find his satisfaction in one of the towns many brothels like any other man with too much money on his hand - but who is he to judge? Secondly, there would be the possibility of humiliating Nick, not just through the act of buying him, but also by having him do things that will permanently ruin what little reputation he has left. And lastly there is, of course, the option of stealing his plays, which seems almost fatuously tame in comparison with the other two.
Nick’s not sure which he prefers. It might also just be a combination of all three. Especially the first two seem to have a lot of daunting compatibility. So, it’s fair to say that he’s prepared for anything when he steps through Will’s door that morning.
“We’re going to see a play,” Will says, with an air of incontestability.
Nick blinks. None of this is fitting into his plan so far. “Um-why?” he asks.
Will shrugs. “I heard it’s supposed to be quite good.”
So, they go the theatre and sit in one of these little boxes in the top row where the cushions come included with the seats. Will hands him fresh garlic because he says it’s supposed to protect against the plague, and Nick seriously questions his sanity as he chews his way through several bulbs. During the performance, Nick makes rude remarks about the writing of the play, which draw a silent laugh from Will. Then Will makes some rude remarks of his own, which Nick only comments with a noncommittal grunt.
None of it is particularly humiliating or sexy or in any way connected to his work. It’s sets Nick on edge, making him even more anxious about the night to come.
Back at Will’s house they have dinner which looks very nice but which Nick tastes very little of, because he hides most of it in his pocket to take back to his family. Will makes it through yet another bottle of wine, telling him about the newest gossip of the writer scene. Nick only gives more grunts in response.
In the evening, Will leads him back to his bedchamber. Nick tries very hard not to seem too freaked out by this development. Instead, he asks. “Shouldn’t I sleep in the guest bed?”
Will hums as he pulls back the covers. “But like this we’ll stay warm.”
Nick crosses his arms. “It’s July.”
Will grins as he swings himself into the cushions. “Indeed, it is. Now come along.”
Nick makes very sure to voice his unhappiness as he crawls into bed with him. It has the added bonus of hiding his rapidly growing anxiety. The one that makes an unpleasant spike when Will pulls him to his chest once again. The one that keeps whispering a million possibilities of what’s going to happen into his ear.
None of them come true, though. Will just stays like this until his breath evens out. And, at some point, even Nick’s racing heart lets him slip off into the land of dreams.
All in all, it’s a very confusing first day. He thinks it’s about the humiliation, at least that’s what makes the most sense to him. Take Nicholas Bottom, famous failed writer, out to see a play much better than his own. Make him sleep in a real bed for once, show him all the things he’s missing out on by being a talentless idiot. He thinks there might be something there.
He tells Bea as much when he gets home the next morning. She lets out a tired sigh in response and nods along with his ramblings. He’s not sure if he should feel angry about the fact that she seems little concerned by the possibility that her husband could be forced into a sexual relationship with someone that isn’t her. He chooses not to comment on it.
“We’re going to have dinner,” Will tells him two days later.
Nick blinks. “Um-why?”
Will shrugs. “I heard it’s supposed to be quite good.”
So, they go and have dinner, never mind the fact that it isn’t even midday yet. The food is really quite good, as is the atmosphere. There is a small band playing and much lively talk. Nick has little time to enjoy all of it though as he’s too busy thinking about how to best smuggle the food back to the rest of his family.
Will tries to ask him about them a few times but Nick only glares in response. Several people come over, wanting an autograph or something other from Will, and Nick glares at them too. Will doesn’t seem to mind.
“Do we really have to do this when there is another fully functioning bed just one room over?” he asks when Will pushes him back to the bedroom that evening.
Will hums. “I had to get rid of the other one, I’m afraid. It’s the moths, you see.”
Nick crosses his arms. “Your curtains and clothes are fine.”
Will grins as he buries himself in the blankets. “Indeed, they are.”
Even though Nick doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, he still can’t help the little jump of his heart as Will takes his usual sleeping position on top of him. If only he could figure out what this is all about! He thinks it’s not supposed to be sexual, seeing as Will hasn’t asked him for anything yet. He’s not sure what he would do if it were.
He asks Bea as much the next morning. “What am I supposed to do if he wants me to have sex with him?”
Bea’s eyes stay fixed on the onions she is chopping. “Well, that depends,” she says. “Do you want to have sex with him?”
“N-no NO!” Nick sputters, outraged at the suggestion.
Bea hums and gives him a look that he isn’t sure what to make of. “Then don’t.”
Nick thinks she is making this all sound way too easy. “But what if he forces me to?”
She raises an eyebrow. “Hit him? Run away? I’m sure you can think of something.”
Somehow the discussion doesn’t help in making him feel any better.
“We’re going to the park,” Will tells him the day after that.
Nick sighs. At this point he doesn’t even dare question the logic of everything that’s happening. “Why?”
Will grins. “It’s supposed to be good for the constitution!”
So, they go to the park, and they look at flowers and trees, cut into odd geometric shapes. The sun shines upon the people taking their morning strolls along the many pathways. Most of them give Nick and Will a nod, which Will answers with his most charming smile. Nick glares at all of them.
They have a picknick under one of the bigger trees with a basket of fruit and cheese that Will brought specifically. He also hands Nick another bigger bundle.
Nick frowns. “What’s this?”
“It’s for your family so you will actually start eating some of the things I give you,” Will says matter-of-fact-ly, popping a grape into his mouth.
Nick huffs. “What if I just don’t want to eat any of your stupid food?”
Will wordlessly passes him a slice of cheese.
Nick takes it with a tired sigh, definitely not enjoying the creamy taste on his tongue. Well, he doesn’t tell Will about it either way.
“Do you have to do this?” he asks that night when Will wraps his arms around him from behind.
Will huffs. “It’s so I can make sure you actually stay in bed.”
Nick rolls his eyes. “I could just leave when you’re asleep, you know.”
Will hums sleepily. “Indeed, you could.”
Nick thinks there might be a plot going on here somewhere. A plot for what exactly he isn’t sure yet. A plot to make Nick so dependent on regular food and sleep that when Will takes them away from him Nick will be barely left functioning? A plot to make him soft and susceptible so that in the end Will’s planned humiliation will be even greater?
He tells Bea as much when she’s inspecting yet another care package that Will send home with him. “I think he’s plotting to kill me,” he says.
Things have been easier since all of this started, he has to admit. Without the constant danger of bankruptcy writing is a lot less pressure. It leaves him time to actually think about the things he wants to write about. And the regular food and sleep are also doing their part in that regard. Last time he looked into a mirror he didn’t even recognise himself anymore. Gone were the rings of black underneath his eyes.
Bea hums. “Why would he want to do that? He’s just bought you.”
“I don’t know,” Nick says, staring to pace the length of their kitchen. He’s been feeling restless these last couple of days. It’s like he can see a storm brewing in the distance, but he has no way to shield himself from it. “He is being too nice. I just know he’s planning something despicable.”
Bea sighs. “Or maybe he’s just trying to be nice,” she suggests.
Nick shakes his head. “Now, why would he want to do that?”
Bea just rolls her eyes.
“We’re going wine tasting,” Will tells him the week after.
Nick sighs and doesn’t say anything.
So, they go wine tasting and Will keeps refilling his glasses with so much wine that, in the end, he can barely see straight anymore. He half-remembers something about staying alert. Something about a plot. Something about a looming danger…. - but he’s too tired to worry about it.
He half leans on Will’s shoulder instead, Will’s pleasant chatter with their host resounding inside his skull. Something about sun and rain and harvest. Anyway, how is one supposed to tell apart all these different types of wine? They all taste the same.
Will has his arm around his shoulder the entire time. He laughs at everything their patron says. Sometimes he gives Nick a happy smile that does something entirely different with Nick’s already muddled brain.
Will guides him back home later, keeping him from running into several doors and finally depositing him onto the bed. This time Nick doesn’t even protest. He doesn’t understand what’s going on but he’s always been an adaptable animal. Ha, alliterations. What he means to say is that he can get used to almost everything. Even if that means sleeping in the same bed as William Shakespeare.
He only lets out a tired huff when Will snakes his arm around his waist, warm and smelling of too many different wines. “Is this how you always live?” he asks, struggling to find the right words among the fog inside his mind. “So-so…carefree?”
Behind him, he can feel Will hesitate. “No,” he says finally. “It’s only when you’re here.”
Nick blinks against the sleep, trying to hold onto the other’s words. “What?” he mumbles.
Will lets out a long breath. “Go to sleep, Nick.”
Will is slowly but surely getting tired of opening his door to an angry Beatrice Bottom.
“This needs to stop,” she says, even before he’s properly let her into his home.
Will isn’t above admitting that her and Nick’s relationship has always been a thorn in his side. Not only did Nick abandon him in favour of courting her, no – of course, their relationship also has to be so disgustingly perfect it could probably kill someone with its sweetness.
While Nick became wrapped up in his role as the doting, devoted husband, Will was, well …doing something else. The only things he doted on were his growing alcohol addiction and admittedly pretty long list of one-night stands.
Will fixes her with a grim expression, crossing his arms. “It can’t,” he says. “If you remember - we made a deal.”
“Not that.” She makes a waving gesture with her hand. “The flirting.”
Will’s heart gives an involuntary jump. He flexes his jaw, trying not to give away the panic creeping up his back. “What flirting?” he growls.
She gives him a look. “Oh please, you taking him out on your cute little dates? Buying him dinner?”
“I didn’t say they were dates!” Will huffs irritably. “And even if they were, it would be none of your business, woman! I can do whatever I want. If I want to buy him dinner, I buy him dinner.”
She takes a step towards him, almost pinning him against the wall with the intensity of her gaze. “It is my business actually. Seeing as whatever you do with him will also affect the happiness of my marriage.”
Will copies her stance, glaring. “And what a marriage it is.” He laughs coldly. “At least I’ve always managed to put dinner on his plate.” The corners of his mouth twitch with a smug grin. “Tell me, don’t you think there is some happiness in not starving to death?”
“And you’re doing it again!” Bea lets out a frustrated noise, balling her fists. “You think everything can be bought, just like you bought him!” She shakes her head. “But you can’t buy his affection, Will!”
Will growls. Oh, doesn’t she just feel so superior, because Nick happened to fall in love with her instead of him? How could she, as a woman, even understand the connection they shared? How could she understand the pain Will felt? And now she dares to tell him what to do! As if Will didn’t know how hopeless his situation is!
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” he hisses, cornering her against the door.
Bea only sighs. “Look, I don’t care that you take him on dates or-or flirt with him or- whatever. I just need this-this… uncommunicative nightmare to stop!” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Nick is a nice guy, but he can also be quite…thick. He’s been working himself into a panic, thinking you’re trying to kill him.”
Will blinks. It takes him a while to decipher the meaning behind her words. After realising she’s not actually trying to antagonize him, he suddenly finds himself at a loss of what to do. His arms fall to his side uselessly. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Bea chuckles dryly. “I honestly do not care what you and my husband have going on, Will.” She massages her forehead. “But if I have to see you two skidding around each other for one more week - my headache might just kill me.” She lets out a deep breath. “You just need to be more-more…direct with him.”
Will huffs. As if that is ever going to work. It’s easy for her to say when she’s never had to doubt the truth of Nick’s feelings. But Will isn’t fooling himself. He knows that if he were to ask Nick outright the man would obviously say no. He’s made that more than clear over the years. No, this is nothing more than Will torturing himself with a cruel game of pretend.
He crosses his arms, rebuilding the scowl on his face. “I’m not taking advice from you.”
“Then don’t.” She raises an eyebrow. “But I’m not your enemy here. I’m his wife and you’re going to have to arrange yourself with that, just like I had to arrange myself with you being here.”
She turns around wordlessly, leaving him in the doorway with too many thoughts to think.
“We’re going to a party,” Will tells him the week after.
Nick sighs. “Okay.”
So, they go to a party, and Will introduces him to all the big names of London’s high society. Between the silky gowns and gold studded shoes Nick sticks out like a sore thumb. He wonders if he should have changed into something a little more appropriate so as not to embarrass Will quite so thoroughly. Or maybe that’s the point. Maybe Will wants them to laugh and eye Nick’s dirty pants with disgust.
The whole evening, Nick is fixed to Will’s side, letting him do all the laughing and talking. Will is very good at that, he learns. He seems to have friends all around, all of whom greet him with exaggerated friendliness and a clap to his back. Most of the time, Will will dive into some story that has them glued to his lips.
Nick only gives a faint smile, not really sure if it would be his place to speak anyway. The gigantic domed ceiling seems to be quietly judging him from above, so he’s glad of Will’s irritating but familiar presence next to him.
That is until Will turns to pat his shoulder. “I’m going to get something to eat,” he says, disappearing into the crowd before Nick can protest.
With a helpless chuckle, Nick turns towards the predatory smiles of the people around him. They had been pretty civil during their earlier conversation, mostly due to Will’s presence, he assumes. He has no doubt about their real feelings towards him, though. He swallows.
But to his great surprise, it’s not him that they attack. Instead, the man opposite him rolls his eyes with a huff. “God, isn’t he tiresome?”
Mumbling agreement.
“He just keeps prattling on, doesn’t he?” a woman adds from behind her champagne glass. She turns to Nick. “I don’t know how you do it, darling.”
Nick blinks, staring into their feignedly polite faces. Suddenly, he understands that these people aren’t Will’s friends at all. They’re hyenas, waiting for him to make a single misstep so they can tear him apart.
He starts to sweat.
Where are Will’s friends, he wonders. He’s never seen anyone around during the time they’ve spend at his place. But surely a man like William Shakespeare must have plenty people wanting to see him all the time. Or are all his ‘friends’ like this? Always up for a talk as long as the incentives are right, but gone the moment any trouble arises.
It sounds…lonely.
“He-he’s alright,” he hears himself saying, before he can even really think about what he’s doing.
The first man lets out a displeased huff. “He’s a pest. A self-centred prick.”
“That he is.” Nick laughs. “But he’s anything but tiresome.”
The woman rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because he’s paying you to shag him.”
Nick nearly chokes on his drink. His face starts flaming. “I-no-we-we’re not-”
The man rolls his eyes. “Oh please, no need to deny it.”
Nick swallows heavily. He gives a short look left and right, as if hoping for someone to jump in and save him from this conversation. “Well, he is paying me. B-but we’re-we’re not doing…t-the other thing.”
The woman raises an eyebrow before taking a pointed sip from her glass. “Something to look forward to then.”
The other people in the crowd snicker.
“Poor Will, getting his heart broken - all just to get to his money,” another woman coos from behind her fan.
Nick blushes. “Oh, I don’t think any hearts are-are-” He clears his throat, not sure what he was even going to say. Involved? Being broken? Both sounds pretty ridiculous to his ears.
“Maybe yours isn’t,” another one drawls next to him, fluttering his eyelids. “But his certainly is.”
Nick laughs. “No, I mean Will doesn’t- he flirts sure- and he would probably get into anyone’s pants given the opportunity, but-” The laughter dies in his throat. “…Oh.”
Their little trips - Nick thought there must have been some greater plan behind them. What if there was? But not in the way Nick had originally assumed.
He casts a nervous glance in the direction Will had disappeared to only a few minutes ago.
The woman next to him flashes her teeth. “That’s right, darling. Keep telling yourself you’re better than us. But - the truth is - you’re just another power-hungry weasel that puts up with him because it’s convenient.”
Nick’s throat tightens uncomfortably. She is right, isn’t she? He is only doing it because of the money. A fact which he had rubbed in repeatedly by ignoring or even downright insulting Will. Still, the other man had stuck to it in that annoyingly persistent way of his.
“Y-you’re wrong.” Nick shakes his head slowly. “H-he might be a dick, but he’s still better than the whole lot of you!”
With that he turns around, storming off in the direction of the buffet. He’s not sure what his plan is exactly. His head swims with too many thoughts and feelings. The only thing he is certain of is that he needs to talk to Will.
The man in question is busy filling his plate with an honestly excessive amounts of fruit. There is a concentrated furrow between his brows as he tries to balance yet another grape on his already pretty instable looking heap. “Nicholas, back already?” he asks, distractedly.
Nick hums. “C-can I ask you something?”
“I believe you just have.”
Nick only gives him a lukewarm glare. His heart isn’t really in it with the anxiety still cursing through his veins. He wrings his hands nervously. “W-why do you do this?”
Will frowns. “Eating fruit? Well, people say it’s supposed to be good for you.”
Nick rolls his eyes. “No, not that. T-the things we did together. The park. The dinner. All of it. Why are you being so nice?”
Will still doesn’t look up, but Nick can see the grip on his plate tightening. “Well, maybe I wanted to be nice.”
“Yes, but why? Why buy me, only to do all of this.”
Will sets his plate down with a sigh. His shoulders sack as if suddenly overcome by a great tiredness. He looks up at Nick and there is something sad and unreadable in his look. “Because you wouldn’t have said yes otherwise.”
Nick just stares at him for a moment. Maybe he wants to be nice, Bea had said to him at some point. But his certainly is. Had he really been blind for so long?
His heart pulses anxiously.
“I want to give the money back,” he blurts.
Will’s expression hardens. He picks his plate back up with a grip so strong his knuckles turn ghostly white. “Well, thank you for proving my point then.” He turns around to leave.
“Oh-oh no,” Nick stammers, stumbling after him. “I-I don’t want to end the deal.” He grabs Will’s arm dragging him to a stop. “I-I just don’t think you’re going to believe me if I don’t give it back.”
Will gives him a tired look. “Believe what?”
Nick licks his lips, hesitating. “This.”
Grabbing him by the collar, Nick pulls Will down towards him. Then he leans in for a careful kiss.
It feels oddly natural - the way their mouths fit together. For some reason, Nick was expecting the whole world to shift with this momentous event. Instead, it feels like coming home, like something they’ve done a thousand times before.
Will just stares at him for a moment.
“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” he finally breathes. “Maybe you should do it again.”
Nick rolls his eyes, obliging anyway.
“You know, maybe we should do this somewhere a little more private,” he suggests then, nodding the a little too interested looks some of the guests are sending them.
Will huffs a laugh. “You know, I never really liked this crowd anyway.”
“No, stop that. The carrots are supposed to go first,” Nick complains with an agitated huff.
Will grins cheekily, stealing another slice from Nick’s chopping board. “Make me stop then.”
Nick gives him a tired look. “I’m not rewarding you for interrupting my work,” he says, plucking the vegetable from Will’s hand.
“Aw, come on, Nicky,” Will purrs, learning closer. His eyes trail towards Nick’s lips. “I just want to-”
There is a pointed cough somewhere behind them, and they both jump apart as if burned.
Bea Bottom is leaning in the doorway, giving them an unimpressed eyebrow.
Will’s stomach gives a nervous squeeze. “Beatrice,” he chuckles guiltily, “how-how nice of you to join us.”
She crosses her arms. “I see, you’ve worked things out then.”
Nick and Will share a tentative look.
“I-I believe we have, yes,” Will says, swallowing. He tries to ignore the rapid beating of his heart.
She hums, strolling closer. “Good.” She nods. “I thought I might have to tie the two of you together, just so you would finally talk.”
Will huffs. “I mean, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t object to-” He is interrupted by a slap to his shoulder from Nick. He grins innocently.
The tension in the air is almost palpable.
Nick takes a careful step towards his wife, grabbing her hand to intertwine their fingers. Will can tell he’s nervous, by the way he keeps chewing his lower lip. “Is this- I mean – is this okay for you?”
Will holds his breath. The silence stretches uncomfortably long.
Then Bea bursts out laughing. “Oh god, you two should see the looks on your faces.” She wipes a few tears from her eyes. “Of course, it’s fine with me.” She snorts. “Honestly, I expected this to happen a lot earlier.” She hums. “But maybe I overestimated your ability to talk to each other.”
Nick’s shoulders sack in relief. He chuckles, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her lips.
Will watches, a heavy feeling inside his chest. Sure, he’s relieved, but there is something else to it too. Thankfulness? Happiness? Disbelief? He gives a thoughtful hum. Maybe he misjudged Bea Bottom, he thinks.
There are a lot of things he should say - thank you probably being one of them. But for someone dealing in words, he has never been particularly good at talking.
Instead, he gives a careful smile. “Can we interest you in a stew, Mrs. Bottom?” he asks, pointing at the kitchen table. “How about you stay for dinner?”
Will and Nick are still in bed when Nigel burst into the room. Will’s arm is slung around Nick’s stomach, where Nick is tracing careful patterns on his skin. Both their heads jerk up when the door flies open with a bang.
“It started!” Nigel pants. “I-” finally, his brain seems to catch up with the situation. He blushes. “Oh, um, sorry I- am I interrupting something?”
Nick has no time to feel embarred, as he’s already half fallen out of the bed. “The baby? It’s coming?!”
Nigel nods breathlessly.
They make it back home in record time. The entire trip Nick seems close to the exploding. His shirt is on the wrong way round but none of the others has the heart to tell him. He keeps mumbling curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair, while pacing the length of their kitchen.
“You need to breathe, Nicky,” Bea tells him at some point, in between screams. She too looks flushed and sweaty but seems to be handling everything surprisingly well otherwise. Then the next contraction sets in.
Nick pales. “Oh god,” he mumbles.
It takes several more hours for the baby to actually arrive. During that time, Nick works himself in such a state that Will has to sit him down with a glass of wine just so he won’t faint. Then, finally, Bea lets out a deep breath and the house is filled with the timid screaming of another human.
“Look, Nicky, it’s our daughter,” she says, when the midwife presents them with the cleaned bundle.
At the first sight of his child, all worry seems to fall from Nick’s shoulders. His arms are steady as he presses the kid to his chest. His heart is filled with a feeling he can’t quite put into words yet. Carefully, he trails his fingers along the small, wrinkled face.
“She’s beautiful.” He smiles.
“She really is,” Nigel says, resting his head on Nick’s shoulder.
Will doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the child, his eyes almost comically wide.
Nick turns to him. “Do you want to hold her?”
Will’s look flickers uncertainly. “I-are you sure? I wouldn’t- I mean-”
Nick wordlessly hands him the baby.
“Oh,” Will says, his voice growing incredibly soft. The feeling in Nick’s chest intensifies.
It feels right to see Will and his daughter together like this. And Bea. And Nigel. All of them.
His family.
Will eyes still haven’t left the child. “How much do you want, so that I get to visit her every week?” he blurts.
Nick huffs a laugh. He exchanges a meaningful look with Bea as if to say can you believe this idiot? He can barely contain the look of adoration is his eyes, though. “No need for that. The kid needs to see her uncle, doesn’t she?”
The answering smile that Will gives him is so bright, you could probably light a whole theatre with it. He tickles the baby’s chin. “Did you hear that? I’m your uncle,” he coos.
Nick watches them with pride, slinging his arm around Will’s shoulder. “You do know, you don’t need to pay people to spend time with them, right?” he asks.
Will hums. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”
Nick smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I guess it did.”