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Secondary — Substitute Teacher:
It’s not the first time it‘s happened, exactly, but it’s the first time it really stings.
Mr. Lange has the flu; there’s a substitute teacher sitting in for him and covering his form. Nick and Charlie are in their corner seats, whispering and giggling and being a general nuisance as usual.
Nick really tries to keep his hands off Charlie in school, but they had sex for the first time three weeks ago, so it’s a taller order than normal. Since that first time, there’s a not-insignificant part of Nick that feels like he’s withering and dying any time he’s not touching Charlie.
During the course of that day’s form he’s brushed a thumb playfully against Charlie’s cheek, reached out to squeeze his knee, and — at his boldest — snuck a quick kiss on the cheek. He can feel the substitute teacher’s eyes following them and he’s not exactly surprised when she asks him to stay after class — though he’s not sure why she hasn’t asked Charlie to stay as well.
“Hello, Mr…Nelson, is it?” the substitute says as he approaches her — Mr. Lange’s — desk. She sounds so cold he’d honestly be worrying she’s homophobic, but she’s got a lesbian flag pin on her lanyard.
“Nick,” he says, feeling flustered. He’s a 17-year-old boy — why is she calling him Mr. Nelson?
“Right, yes, Nick,” she says. “Listen, it might not be my place exactly, but I wanted to tell you — you need to stop messing your friend about.”
“My —?” Nick feels suddenly devoid of the powers of speech. What on earth is she talking about?
“Yes, your seatmate, Charlie? Look, it probably all feels like nothing to you, the little glances and the flirting you don’t realize is flirting. But I guarantee you, it feels like something to him. It would be a kindness to stop.”
“Charlie’s my boyfriend, actually,” Nick says, with a chilly firmness he didn’t know he was capable of producing. He’s surprised when it makes the teacher’s face go even colder.
“That’s not funny,” she says, voice scolding and harsh.
“I’m not trying to be,” Nick shoots back, and his tone is lightyears outside the range he would’ve considered appropriate for any authority figure before this day, but fuck if she doesn’t deserve it. “We’ve been together for over a year. I’d love to know why you automatically assumed I was, how did you phrase it? Messing him about, instead of jumping to that incredibly obvious conclusion.”
The substitute is now sputtering a bit, opening her mouth and closing it like she’s waiting for words to come to her.
“Look, Nick,” she finally says. “I was just trying to look out for a queer kid, as someone who was once a bullied queer kid. Surely you can understand that I wouldn’t assume you were gay, and why I’d want to look out for Charlie.”
“I’m bi,” he says. “But that’s not something you need to know about a seventeen-year-old student either way, is it? Also, Charlie’s literally about to be head boy. He’s one of the most popular people at this school, and he doesn’t need you or anyone ‘looking out’ for him.”
Nick is shocked, as he exits the room, that he’s said any of this. They’re the type of retorts that would usually occur to him later, uselessly, in the shower or on the rugby pitch. He has never, ever defended himself this way — but it was easy, because he was actually defending Charlie.
An hour later, Nick has relayed the incident to Charlie (though he hasn’t yet shared the details with his mum — that will be a rough day for the substitute, should he decide to, because sweet Sarah Nelson is also a rabid PTA mum when she needs to be). They’re lying on his bed and Charlie’s just finished…erm…showing Nick how proud he was of his response. Nick’s head is still spinning.
“You know, one thing you said was only sort of half-true, though,” Charlie says.
“Mm?” Nick mumbles, trying to break out of his post-orgasm haze so he can listen properly.
“You said I didn’t need anyone to look after me. But that’s not true. I have you. We look after other, don’t we?”
Nick smiles, reaches for Charlie’s hand where it’s resting on his own chest, twines their fingers together.
“Always,” he says, then punctuates the statement with a kiss.
Uni — Course Friend:
Nick would consider Sam a casual friend. They met in their intro to child psychology class and they have a good rapport; they usually sit next to each other and will sometimes walk together for a bit after class before splitting off to their respective destinations.
Their conversations haven’t been about anything deep, and Nick doesn’t think he’s actually brought Charlie up to Sam, but he did think they shared a mutual understanding that they’re both queer.
He’ll wonder later why he always thinks that.
It’s a Saturday night when he runs into Sam at a pub in Leeds; Charlie’s there — visiting for the weekend — but is off getting them fresh drinks.
“Nicholas!” Sam cries out when he sees him, and Nick can tell from his tone that he’s more than a little tipsy.
“Sam!” Nick replies, genuinely happy to see him. “What‘s going on, mate?”
“Oh, y’know, just the usual night,” Sam slurs. “You here with friends?”
“Yeah, with my flatmates, and my partner’s in town for the weekend,” Nick replies. They’ve started using the term occasionally — they still say boyfriend too, Nick thinks he’ll still want to call Charlie his boyfriend when they’ve been married for forty years, but “partner” feels like it captures the seriousness of their relationship.
He’s surprised when his statement is met with a derisive snort from Sam.
“Ahh, yes, your partner,” he sneers.
“Um…yes?” Nick replies, feeling wrongheaded and confused, like he can’t grasp the thread where this conversation started to unravel. “I’m sorry, did I…”
“Ugh, no, sorry,” Sam says, and Nick can really hear how drunk he is now. “It’s a weird pet peeve of mine as a gay man, honestly — straight men referring to their girlfriends as their ‘partners.’ Feels a bit like stolen valor, y’know?”
Any possible retort dies on Nick’s tongue; he is so bowled-over by this statement. Fortunately, he doesn’t need one, because Charlie’s on his way back from the bar, beaming with a drink in each hand.
“Hi, baby!” he says. “Got you a vodka cran, they didn’t have — oh, who’s this?”
“This is my classmate, Sam,” Nick says, intentionally downgrading him to “classmate” instead of “friend” or “mate.”
“Hi,” Sam says to Charlie, and if Nick didn’t want to punch him already, he does now that he sees the glint of interest in his eyes. “Are you one of Nick’s flatmates?”
Nick and Charlie both stare at him blankly for a moment. That he could read their interaction as platonic right now really speaks volumes about the lengths Sam will go to stereotype masculinity.
“No,” Nick says, finding that he’s looking forward to the mic drop just a little. “This is my partner, actually. Charlie. I just mentioned him?”
“Oh!” Sam cries out, and his face goes bright white. “I’m sorry, Nick, I had no idea you were gay.”
“He’s bi, actually,” Charlie cuts in, wrapping his arm tighter around Nick’s waist. He’s turned his eyes onto Nick, searching his face to see if he needs a quick exit. Nick finds Charlie’s hand on his own hip and squeezes, letting him know he’s okay.
“Oh, I’m sorry again, mate,” Sam is saying. “When Charlie walked over I just assumed he was one of the friends you came with.”
“He literally called me ‘baby’ right from the jump,” Nick says drily.
“I’ve had my hand in his back pocket since I handed him his drink,” Charlie chimes in again, and God, Nick loves him.
“Yeah,” Sam says sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t assume that…”
But he seems to think better of finishing that sentence, and soon Nick and Charlie make their excuses and sidle off to the other side of room. Nick knows he’s being petty, maybe, but on Tuesday he picks a new seat in intro to child psych.
Stolen valor, he thinks in a huff. What a dick.
Twenties — Nick’s Coworker:
All in all, Nick loves his job teaching year one, and he likes most of his coworkers. He’s always gotten a bit of an odd feeling about Maddy, though. She teaches year four, and she’s always sort of…eyeing him. He’s not vain enough to assume it’s necessarily prurient in nature, but he’s also not naive enough to rule it out.
At the staff holiday party — a dinner at the head teacher’s house — Maddy corners him over apps. Charlie’s there, but is off in the corner talking with the music teacher, Brian, who he’s managed to befriend.
“Nick,” Maddy says in that same searching tone. “Why don’t you ever bring your wife to events? You’re married, aren’t you?”
“I’m engaged,” Nick says, feeling only mild surprise, at this point in his life, at the assumption of wife. “It’s an engagement ring. And I bring Charlie to everything.”
He doesn’t add you literally saw me walk in with him tonight because he wants to watch Maddy flounder a little. Sue him, he’s bi and exhausted.
“I’ve literally never seen you bring her to anything!” Maddy exclaims. “You’re always bringing that friend of yours, the guy with the curly hair? He’s quite cute, actually.”
Apparently Maddy is an equal-opportunity flirt, with unilaterally terrible gaydar. Nick decides to put her out of her misery.
“That’s my fiance, actually. Charlie. He’s over there talking to Brian.”
“I…oh!” Maddy says. “Oh, Nick, I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry. I’m — I’m actually bisexual myself, so I feel like a right twat for assuming. Will you introduce me to Charlie when he comes back over? I’d love to properly meet him.”
Nick feels himself warming to her — it was a silly assumption, but her apology feels genuine and complete.
“I’m bi as well,” he tells her. “And I will. Just…well, this is embarrassing, but he might be a little chilly at first. I told him that I thought you had a…bit of a crush on me.”
“Oh, I did!” Maddy replies brightly. “I was trying to keep it under wraps because I thought you were married. Which is mostly true, as it turns out, of course! Honestly, if I’d seen Charlie first I would’ve had more of a crush on him. Good on you, mate — he’s quite gorgeous.”
Nick smiles. Theoretically, maybe he should feel defensive about this statement, but he loves hearing people praise Charlie.
A few moments later, as he introduces the man in question to Maddy, he feels something sparking up between the three of them that he’s felt a few other times in his life: a real and lasting friendship starting to form.
A month later, when their wedding invites go out, Maddy’s name is added to the list.
Also Twenties — At a Wedding:
It was their wedding, actually. Which Nick still can’t quite believe.
The night has been a beautiful haze of toasts and dancing and Charlie’s slim fingers on his tuxedoed waist, everyone he loves in one room and the man he loves most looking radiant at the center of it all.
Nick’s taking a break to sit in the corner and eat a quick snack — the first of their heavy hors d’oeuvres he’s had the chance to sample. Charlie is in the center of the dance floor, spinning like a whirling dervish with Elle and Tara and Darcy; he’d checked to see if he wanted to pause for a bite as well but happily left him to dance. He’s made him a plate, just in case.
Nick has just put a bacon-and-potato puff into his mouth when a member of the catering staff sidles over. She looks a bit young, maybe three or four years younger than him, so for some reason he’s not even expecting it. (Maybe he’s also not expecting it because he’s at his own wedding!)
“Hi,” she says as she approaches, her voice nervous and fluttering. “I’m Caila…look, I know this is rather forward, but I saw you from across the room and I’d just never forgive myself if I didn’t go for it. Are you single?”
Nick swallows his potato puff. He lets the silence stretch out, long and awkward.
“Am I single?” he asks, when he finally speaks. “I’m the groom, actually. One of the grooms.”
At that last sentence, his eyes catch Charlie’s from across the room, and his husband — God, his husband, he will never get tired of that — immediately senses that Nick needs him. He’s simultaneously sinking into Nick’s lap, laying an arm around his shoulders and a kiss on his cheek, and reaching for a mini pastry from Nick’s plate by the time Caila begins her stuttering apology in earnest.
“Oh God,” she says. “My friends are never going to let me live this one down — the groom. I’m so sorry, it’s just I’ve been in the back prepping appetizers all night and I never would’ve thought you were….”
On his wedding night, Nick catches himself thinking.
“I think that’ll be quite enough, Caila,” Charlie says coldly. “My husband and I would like to enjoy our meal in peace.”
Husband!!! Nick thinks again as Charlie says it, even as Caila shuffles away dejectedly.
Later that night, after the marriage is well and truly consummated (twice…okay, twice and a half) Nick brings it up, tries to make a bit of a joke out of it.
“I can’t believe someone thought I was straight at my own wedding,” he says, stroking a hand up and down Charlie’s bare back. “Turns out even getting gay married didn’t make me queer enough.”
“Nick,” Charlie says, shifting up so he can look him directly in the eyes.
“No, it’s okay,” Nick says. “It’s funny, really.”
“It’s not though, is it?” Charlie replies — all his fierceness directed at the world which continually holds Nick up to this particular judgment, just as all his softness is directed at Nick. “It’s shitty and biphobic and stereotyping and it’s insane that you have to deal with it, on our wedding night, of all nights.”
“Okay,” Nick says softly, loving Charlie for the fire in his eyes and a million other little reasons. “You’re right. It’s shitty. But I got to marry you tonight. You’re my husband — I cant stop saying it in my head. Every time I caught your eye across the room I’d think, ‘that’s my husband’ and then my brain would just giggle ‘husband, husband, husband’ over and over again. I know it’s cliche for every groom to think he’s the luckiest man in the world, but I actually am. So if a little casual biphobia is the price of this literal, actual, perfect happiness with the love of my life — I’ll pay that price a million times over.”
And really, a marriage needs to be consummated more than two and a half times the first night, when you think about it — so Nick’s glad he said it.
+1: Coffee Shop the Morning After
Nick wakes the next morning with Charlie twined around him, warm and soft and still sleeping deeply. He allows himself a few sappy moments to think about how incredible it is that — despite all the shining, glorious moments of joy he’s experienced in his life — it can still be true that this, this very morning, is the happiest he’s ever been.
After indulging in those thoughts for a moment, he slips out of bed, disentangling himself carefully from Charlie’s hold. From my husband, Charlie! his brain echoes again, gleefully. I’m making sure my HUSBAND can get his rest.
He throws on a hoodie and a pair of joggers, steps into his oldest pair of vans, and heads downstairs to the coffee shop on the ground level of their flat. They’ve only lived here a few months and this was, of course, one of the biggest selling points for moving in.
Funnily enough, Nick doesn’t think they’ve ever been into to the shop together — Charlie is the coffee drinker but Nick is the morning person, so he normally grabs their first cups of the day while Charlie’s still sleeping.
“The usual,” Nick says, smiling sleepily at the barista and feeling a little thrill of simple joy at being a regular with a “usual.”
The barista grins and immediately starts fixing their drinks. Her name is Kaelynn and she looks about sixteen but is here almost every morning; Nick’s wondered if her parents own the coffee shop.
“Your tea,” she says, handing the paper cup over. “And his oat milk americano.”
Nick stops short. He doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned Charlie to Kaelynn, although they do chat briefly most mornings.
“You…you know he’s a he?” Nick says, feeling stupid as soon as the words come out of his mouth.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” Kaelynn says immediately. “Are you or he not out? I truly didn’t mean to be invasive.”
“Oh, no, no!” Nick interjects. “It’s just…I get sort of, typecast as straight a lot. I’ve never had someone just assume I’m with a man, sometimes even when Charlie’s right in front of them.”
Kaelynn relaxes and beams at him.
“Look, maybe this will make me seem nosey,” she says. “But you have a picture of him as your lockscreen and you look down at it every five seconds. I guess he could’ve been your best mate or something, but I don’t look at my best mate like that. So I figured he was your boyfriend.”
Nick’s lockscreen is a photo of Charlie curled up on their bed with Daisy, both of them asleep. He looks so adorable in that photo that Nick’s smiling stupidly, just thinking about it, and kind of wants to unlock his phone to see it — but then realizes he’s about to do something very, very exciting for the first time.
“He’s my husband, actually,” he tells Kaelynn, and he’s pretty sure the giddy joy in his chest could power an entire city. “We got married last night. We’re leaving for our honeymoon today, but we wanted to spend the first night in our own bed.”
“Oh my God!!!!!!” Kaelynn shrieks, so loud the shop’s three other patrons turn toward her in mild alarm. “That’s so amazing! Show me your ring! Do you have photos? I know you won’t have the professional ones yet, but do you have photos on your phone?”
Nick beams back and shows Kaelynn his ring — it has subtle little leaves engraved in it, a reminder of the fall when he and Charlie met. Then he unlocks his phone and finds the text thread where their friends and family shared candid photos all night, pulling up one of him and Charlie that Tara took late in the evening. In the photo they’ve been dancing, arms wrapped around each other, but they both looked toward the camera as Tara approached and they’re laughing. Charlie’s bow tie is a little loose and his curls are rumpled; the color in both their cheeks is high and they look simply, indisputably incandescent with love.
Kaelynn coos and gasps at the photo and all the subsequent ones Nick shows her. After he climbs the stairs with one rapidly cooling cup in each hand, he can’t resist climbing back into bed, waking Charlie up, and kissing him silly.
His husband, his husband, his husband, actually. Nick really is the luckiest man in the world.