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Nick barely had time to lower his hand after knocking before the front door swung open.
"Hi," Charlie said, smiling in that quiet, effortless way that made Nick forget whatever he'd been thinking about five seconds earlier.
"There he is," Nick beamed. "My pretty blue-eyed boy."
Charlie let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Oh my God."
"What?" Nick asked innocently. "It's true."
"It's because of that song again, isn't it?"
"It might be."
For the last few weeks, he had been obsessed with "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison, but as good as the song was, it didn’t fit their circumstances - Charlie did not have brown eyes nor was he a girl. So as Boyfriend of the Year™, Nick felt an obligation to resolve this injustice.
“Lemme take my blue-eyed boy for a spin.”
Before Charlie could voice any protests, Nick slipped an arm around his waist and lifted him clean off the floor. Charlie yelped, immediately dissolving into a fit of laughter as Nick spun him around the hallway.
"Nick!"
"What?"
"I'm going to fall!"
"I've got you."
"Nick please-“
Sensing his boyfriend’s mounting discomfort, Nick set him down gently, one hand lingering on Charlie's waist to steady him. Charlie always looked cute, but it was especially obvious now: his hair was windswept, his cheeks were flushed pink, and the graphic Urban Outfitters jumper he’d stolen from Nick was hopelessly dishevelled.
"You're ridiculous."
"And yet," Nick said, unable to stop smiling, "you still love me."
"I tolerate you."
"Sure."
Rolling his eyes with all the affection in the world, Charlie called towards the staircase.
"Tori! Nick's here!"
A moment later, two pairs of footsteps echoed from upstairs.
Tori appeared first, hands clasped around a glass of her signature diet lemonade, her expression fixed in its usual look of being completely done with the world.
Michael Holden hovered on the step above her.
"Alright?" Michael said with an easy nod.
"Nice to see you mate," Nick returned, nodding back.
Nick had never quite understood why so many people at Truham insisted Michael was weird.
Well... that’s a lie, the older boy was weird.
But not in a bad way.
He was enthusiastic about obscure films, seemed to collect bizarre facts purely for the fun of it, and had once spent ten minutes explaining why pigeons deserved better public relations. Rumours about him had spread around school for years, painting him as eccentric, unpredictable, and just plain odd.
Nick had discovered that most of those rumours left out a key element of who Michael was.
He was kind.
He adored Tori without trying to change her, made Charlie laugh in that surprised, snorty way he rarely laughed around other people, and somehow always knew when to make a joke and when to simply sit beside someone in silence.
In short, he was a good guy.
Before anyone could say another word, a blur shot out of the living room.
"Nick!"
The youngest Spring sibling, Olly, launched himself across the hallway at full speed, jumping up at Nick.
"Whoa!" Nick laughed, catching him before they both toppled over. "Hi, Olly."
"D'you bring Henry? Or Nellie? Or both? Is Henry outside? Can I see them? Can we go now? Did they come in your car? Are they-"
"Olly.”
Tori's voice cut cleanly through the torrent of words.
"Breathe."
Oliver stopped mid-sentence, took one enormous theatrical breath, then continued at a considerably more manageable speed.
"...Did you bring Henry or Nellie?"
Nick couldn't help laughing.
"Sorry, bud. They're both at home today."
Oliver's face fell.
"Oh."
"But," Nick added, "I've got loads of new photos."
Oliver gasped as though Nick had just announced Christmas had come early.
"You do?"
"I do."
Oliver seized Nick's hand immediately.
"You have to show me. Right now."
"I thought you guys were baking first?" Charlie asked.
Oliver considered his brother’s question with immense seriousness.
"...Can we look at the pictures when it’s in the oven?”
"I think," Nick said, lowering himself to Olly’s level, "that sounds like an excellent plan."
They had planned this afternoon weeks ago.
It had started as one of those conversations that drifted naturally into the future, the sort that happened more and more these days. Neither of them had a timetable for any of it - moving in together, getting married, growing old - but they liked talking about it anyway. It made those distant possibilities feel a lot more real.
Charlie had been lying across Nick's bed, scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone when he'd suddenly looked up.
"I read somewhere that when you marry someone, you marry their entire family."
Nick had turned his head from where he was attempting to beat Charlie's high score on Tetris.
"...How much Game of Thrones have you been watching?"
Charlie had laughed so hard he'd nearly dropped his phone.
"That's not where I got it from!"
"I'm just checking."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
And Nick did know.
Once the laughter had faded, Charlie explained what he'd meant.
"I just... I really want you and Tori to get to know each other better."
Nick had frowned.
"I thought we got on okay."
"You do," Charlie had assured him quickly. "She likes you."
"She does?"
Charlie had looked at him as though he'd grown a second head.
"Nick. You know what Tori’s like. If she didn't like you, you'd know."
That was undeniably true.
Tori Spring wasn't exactly subtle when she disliked someone.
She wasn't rude for the sake of it, but she had perfected the art of making people feel like they were an inconvenience simply by looking at them. Nick had witnessed it enough times to know he had never been on the receiving end of such a look.
"I just think..." Charlie had continued, choosing his words carefully. "You're the two most important people in my life."
Nick had reached for Charlie's hand without thinking.
"And I want you to know each other," Charlie had said. "Properly."
That had been enough to convince Nick.
The truth was that he already knew most of Charlie's family reasonably well.
Julio and Jane were always welcoming whenever he came over, even if there was still a certain carefulness between them. Years of worrying about Charlie had left them understandably protective.
Oliver, on the other hand...
Oliver had apparently decided within about twenty minutes of meeting Nick that he was wonderful.
The feeling seemed to have only intensified over time.
Nick had become the designated football partner, piggyback provider, bedtime-story reader whenever he happened to be around, and recipient of approximately eighty-seven questions every visit. Oll adored Henry and Nellie almost as much as he adored Nick himself and had once very seriously demanded him and Charlie get married at LegoLand so he could have “another big brother to play with.”
Tori, on the other hand...
Was different.
Not difficult, persay, just… harder to read.
Most of their conversations happened in passing - a dry comment while Charlie was making tea, a shared look when Oliver said something unintentionally hilarious, the occasional sarcastic observation that caught Nick off guard enough to make him laugh.
They got on perfectly well.
But Charlie wanted them to be friends.
And Nick wanted that too.
"So, we’re going to head off now," Charlie announced, slinging a small backpack over one shoulder. "Michael's going to attempt to teach me how to ice skate."
"Attempt?"
"I've got terrible balance."
"You play rugby."
"I know. Apparently, those are different skills."
"They definitely are," Michael said from the hallway. "Though if Charlie falls over, I reserve the right to laugh."
"You absolutely do not."
"I absolutely do."
Charlie looked at Nick with mock betrayal.
"See what I have to put up with?"
Nick grinned.
"You'll survive."
"I hope so."
Michael opened the front door with a theatrical flourish.
"Ready?"
Charlie nodded, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to Nick's cheek.
"Don't burn the banana bread."
"No promises."
"I heard that," Tori called from the kitchen.
Before Nick could respond, another voice called from the kitchen.
"Nick, c'mon,"
Oliver sang, stretching out the words dramatically.
"We've got to start baking before I eat all the chocolate chips!"
Nick exchanged an amused glance with Charlie.
"Duty calls," he said. "Have a good time guys!"
"See you later!" Charlie waved from the door, and soon after it swung shut behind them.
Nick headed into the kitchen to find chaos was already underway.
Oliver was standing on a kitchen stool in a bright yellow apron that looked two sizes too big for him, the straps twisted awkwardly at the back. Tori stood beside him, greasing a loaf tin.
"I can do it.” Oliver insisted, reaching for the pastry brush.
"You’ll just put grease everywhere except the tin.” Tori replied.
Oliver reached for the brush anyway and Tori gently moved it out of reach.
"Olly."
"But I'm helping."
"You're creating a mess.”
Nick bit back a smile. He could see the exact moment Tori's patience was beginning to fray, so he stepped forward.
"Hey, Olly, I actually need a really important assistant."
Oliver spun around immediately.
"Me?"
"Yes, you,” Nick said solemnly. "I need someone to crack two eggs into that bowl and measure out the flour and caster sugar. Think you can handle it?"
Oliver's eyes widened as though he'd just been entrusted with state secrets.
"Okay!"
He grabbed the eggs with both hands, concentrating so hard that his tongue poked out slightly.
Tori looked over at Nick, surprise flickering across her face before she mouthed a silent thank you.
Nick gave a tiny shrug in return.
Oliver tapped the first egg carefully against the side of the bowl.
"Is this enough?"
"A little harder," Nick encouraged.
Crack.
The shell split neatly.
"I did it!"
"You did, good job mate!”
The second egg took two attempts but eventually landed in the bowl with only a tiny piece of shell that Nick fished out before Oliver noticed.
Then came the flour.
Oliver scooped enthusiastically while Nick held the scales steady.
"Is that enough?"
"A bit more."
Another scoop.
"Now?"
"Perfect."
By the time the caster sugar was measured out, Oliver was positively glowing with pride.
"I'm a professional baker," he announced.
Tori snorted from where she stood, fiddling with the oven settings to preheat it.
"You cracked two eggs."
"That's how all professionals start," Nick said encouragingly.
Oliver nodded vigorously, completely convinced.
As he carried the bowl over to the mixing stand with exaggerated care, Tori leaned slightly closer to Nick.
"That was clever.” she murmured.
"I have younger siblings too," Nick said quietly. "Well, they’re dogs but sometimes helping just means giving them a job that feels important."
Tori watched Oliver proudly arranging the ingredients into what was clearly his vision of a professional workstation.
"Charlie was right,” she said without glancing his way, “you know how to look after people.”
Before Nick could think of a response, Oliver held up the bag of chocolate chips.
"Can I eat one now?"
"One.”
Oliver immediately put three in his mouth.
Tori closed her eyes briefly in exasperation, and Nick just laughed, leaning over to ruffle Oliver’s unruly hair.
The kitchen settled into a comfortable routine. The measured flour and eggs had already been folded, and only one ingredient remained to be prepped before they could add the chocolate chips.
Nick peeled the last banana and handed it to Oliver.
"Right," he said, setting the mixing bowl in front of him. "Your mission is to mash these. Keep the banana in the bowl as much as possible."
Oliver accepted the potato masher and pressed down experimentally.
Squelch.
"Excellent," Nick nodded. "Bit more force."
Oliver frowned in concentration, gripping the handle with both hands.
"It's harder than I thought."
"You'll get there," Nick said.
A few enthusiastic mashes later, the bananas had become a lumpy yellow paste.
Oliver beamed proudly.
"Look!" he announced. "I absolutely destroyed those bananas!"
"You did," Nick laughed, as did Tori who covered her mouth with the back of her hand.
Oliver looked between them, bewildered.
"...What?"
Tori cleared her throat, unsuccessfully suppressing another laugh.
"Nothing."
"Why are you laughing?"
Nick exchanged a helpless glance with Tori.
"It's... just the way you said it."
Oliver looked down at the bowl, then back up again.
"But I did smash the bananas."
That only made both of them laugh harder.
Oliver sighed dramatically.
"Adults are weird."
In their moment of distraction, Oliver's hand darted into the packet, and he emerged triumphant with another generous handful of chocolate chips.
"Oliver," Tori sighed.
"What?"
"Those are for the banana bread."
"I know."
"So why are they in your mouth?"
Oliver considered the question as he chewed thoughtfully.
"...Quality control."
Before either of them could object, he stuffed a few more chocolate chips into his mouth and scampered out of the kitchen.
"I'm playing Mario Kart!" he called over his shoulder. "Nick, come soon and show me the pictures of Nellie and Henry!"
"I will!" Nick called back.
Oliver disappeared into the living room, already humming the Mario Kart menu music to himself.
Tori watched him go, shaking her head.
"Brothers."
Nick laughed.
"Tell me about it."
She glanced at him as she poured the last of the chocolate chips into the banana bread mixture, then picked up the bowl to spread the batter into the buttered loaf tin.
"David?"
Nick's smile faltered slightly.
"...Yeah."
"He's a dickhead."
"Yeah, he is, but I don't really get it," he admitted quietly. "We grew up in the same house. Same parents. Same everything."
"And yet."
"And yet."
Tori shrugged.
"Sometimes people just choose to be difficult."
Nick thought about David's constant biphobic comments, the way he'd mocked Charlie, the months it had taken him to begin changing.
"He is getting better," Nick said eventually.
"I know."
"You believe that?"
"I believe people can change." She looked at him. "Doesn't mean they always do."
Nick nodded slowly.
"...Fair."
Tori smoothed the top of their creation with a spatula while Nick opened the oven door.
She slid the tin onto the middle shelf and the oven door closed with a soft click.
For a moment, they simply stood there watching the light glow through the glass.
"It smells good already," Nick said.
"It'll smell even better in half an hour."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
After a while, Tori spoke again.
"You know why Charlie always asks for banana bread?"
Nick answered automatically.
"It's one of his safe foods."
She nodded.
"When things were really bad..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Sometimes it was one of the only things he'd eat."
Nick's chest tightened.
"He’s better now.”
"I know."
There was a small smile on her face.
"It's just nice.”
"What is?"
"That it's just banana bread again."
Nick looked at the loaf slowly rising behind the oven door.
Not medicine.
Not something to negotiate over.
Just...
A treat to enjoy with friends at the weekend.
"He's come a long way," Nick murmured.
"He has."
"So have you."
Tori looked at him, surprised.
"You carried a lot of that with him."
She looked away for a second.
"I just did what sisters do."
Nick wasn't sure that gave her enough credit, but he didn't contradict her.
Instead, they stood side by side, watching the loaf bake.
Without warning, Tori stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
Nick froze for the briefest moment before hugging her back.
When she stepped away, she looked him straight in the eye.
"Don't mess my brother's life up."
Nick smiled.
"Not planning on it."
She studied him for another second.
"I didn't think you were, just wanted to test you.”
From the living room came Oliver's impatient yell.
"Niiiiick!"
A pause.
"Toriiii!"
Another pause.
"You're missing Rainbow Road!"
Nick and Tori looked at each other.
Then, at the exact same time, they laughed.
"I suppose we'd better go," Nick said.
"I suppose we had."
Together, they left the banana bread on its own (with a responsibly set timer, of course) and went to join Oliver.
When Charlie came home later that afternoon, tired but immensely glad that he had gotten to know his sister’s "not-boyfriend" boyfriend, the kitchen smelt of warm banana bread, Oliver insisted he'd won every race and that Nellie and Henry were “SO CUTE”, and Tori complained about having to do all the washing up.
Charlie smiled at all three of them, his gaze lingering for just a moment as he took in the easy laughter, the flour still dusting the worktops, and the half-finished game of Mario Kart paused on the television. He didn't ask if the afternoon had gone well.
He didn't need to.
Somewhere between measuring flour, mashing bananas, stolen handfuls of chocolate chips, and a loaf of banana bread that had baked to perfection, something had changed.
Nick and Tori hadn't just spent an afternoon together out of obligation.
They'd become friends in their own right.
And seeing the quiet relief in Charlie's smile, Nick couldn't think of a better way the day could have ended.