Work Text:
Charlie
“Fuck’s sake.”
Those were the first two words that came out of Charlie’s mouth that morning. No, they weren’t exactly eloquent. But, in his defence, he wasn’t expecting his first inhale of the day to be met with congestion denser than a fucking neutron star.
Warm air puffed against his cheek as Nick’s creaky murmur broke through their morning alarm. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
“This is your fault.”
“You’re the one who wanted to stay over all weekend, darling.”
“Because you’re shit at looking after yourself.”
“Mm, I’m sure that’s the only reason,” Nick said, nuzzling the curls above Charlie’s ear. And Charlie couldn’t deny it. Because while Nick could have handled a little summer cold by himself, Charlie was never going to miss the chance to experience his boyfriend at his sleepiest and, therefore, cuddliest. “Wanna snooze?”
“Please.”
Nick silenced his phone and pulled Charlie onto his chest. They snoozed three more times after that, which seemed like a good decision at the time—less so when they were dashing out of the door wholly unmedicated, their hair in harmonious disarray.
Thankfully, Nick already had some meds in his glovebox from when he’d started feeling ill last Friday, so Charlie spent the car journey popping pills and feeding the same to his chauffeur. The sting in his throat flared from the effort. And while he was pretty sure Nick couldn’t see him wincing, a soothing hand worked its way up the nape of his neck all the same.
“How are you feeling?” Nick asked.
“Brilliant. Gooped and gagged. Raring to start the day.”
Nick sighed. “Tell you what, I’ll drop you off outside the office. Then at least you won’t have to walk so far.”
He was a darling, and Charlie felt his bitter, grumpy, mildly indisposed heart melt a fraction. But— “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Normally, they’d park a couple of streets away. Charlie would leave the car first, followed by Nick, and they’d clock into work with enough of a time difference that no one would suspect they commuted together, let alone dicked each other down a few nights a week.
Maybe it was overkill. It wasn’t like they were embarrassed of their relationship. But being out together at work was a risk Charlie didn’t want to take. For various reasons. Most of which his therapist could probably list for him.
Anyway, his paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded. Truham Press was the kind of small-scale indie publishing house that thrived on gossip and granola bars. The last time two employees were hooking up—read: Imogen and Sahar—everyone knew. When their year-long situationship became official, everyone knew. And when they broke up two months later, surprise surprise, everyone knew. It got so awkward that Sahar left the company to pursue her career aspirations of becoming a rockstar, while Imogen took a mental health break and returned with her hair twice as blonde as before.
Potential stardom aside, fuck if Charlie was going to let himself and Nick end up in that same situation.
Besides, there was a kind of thrill in keeping it a secret. Like they were schoolboys, sneaking through corridors hand-in-hand, stealing kisses in art rooms and PE storage sheds. Sometimes Charlie wondered if this was what it would’ve been like if they’d met as teenagers. Realistically, Nick would have been too popular for a nerd like him. But maybe in another universe…
“It’ll be fine,” Nick said. “I give the girls lifts too sometimes. No one will question it.”
And so Nick parked right outside the entrance. Charlie did a quick scan of the surroundings, confirmed the coast was clear, and pulled him in for a goodbye kiss. “You know I’m not really bitter, don’t you?”
Nick smiled, gentle and lopsided. “I know.”
Charlie slipped a stick of Soothers into Nick’s shirt pocket. “Catch you on the flip side.”
“Christ, the pollen can’t be that bad today, surely?” Tao said, as Charlie sneezed for the third time since sitting down at his desk five minutes ago.
“This isn’t hay fever,” Charlie said miserably, plucking at a tissue and blowing his nose. It helped about as much as a hand fan helped in a heat wave. Which was to say, not fucking much.
“Aw, babe,” said Isaac. “Summer cold?”
Charlie made a disgruntled noise into his tissue that passed for a yes, before breaking off into a string of weak coughs.
“How the fuck did you get a cold in July?” Tao asked.
“Boyfriend.”
“How the fuck did your boyfriend get a cold in July?”
“He works with kids.”
Isaac sat up with newfound interest, his dilapidated office chair creaking under the strain. “He’s a teacher?”
“Rugby coach. Under 11s,” Charlie said. It wasn’t even a lie. He’d just failed to mention that rugby was Nick’s side gig (his main gig being site management of the building they were occupying right now).
Tao’s eyebrows shot up. He leant towards Isaac and hissed, “You owe me a fiver.”
“Um, I think we’re jumping to conclusions here.”
Charlie narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Isaac and I made a bet. About Mr Golden Retriever. My money was on jock, but he was convinced you’d got with another nerd.”
“In my defence,” Isaac retorted, “I thought he worked here!”
Charlie made an involuntary choking noise. He disguised it under a cough, which—thankfully—wasn’t too hard to pull off in his current state. “What made you think that?”
“Because why else would you be so secretive about him? You’ve been together six months and we don’t even know his name.”
“Maybe I just like to keep my private life private.”
“See, I’d buy that. Except we know the names of both your siblings, your favourite art teacher in school, the band you were in at sixteen, and your childhood stuffed toy.”
“We do?” Tao interjected.
“Kitty.”
“Your encyclopaedic knowledge on me is unnerving.”
Isaac shrugged. “I’m a good listener.”
“How have MI5 not recruited you?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, they tried, but I like books more.”
Charlie didn’t even know if he was joking.
Just when he thought the subject had been successfully diverted, Tao poked his head over his monitor with a hopeful grin. “Can we get a name, at least?”
“No.”
“Charlieee,” Isaac whined, while Tao raised his arms in mock despair and cried, “I’m starting to think he’s not even real.”
“Oh my god, guys,” Charlie said, burying his head in his hands. He didn’t have the energy to put up a fight today. And they bloody knew it, the bastards, otherwise they wouldn’t be trying their luck. “He is real. And his name is Luke, okay?”
Technically, Tao had asked for a name. He hadn’t specified which one.
Isaac’s smile broadened. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Luke is totally a jock name,” Tao said triumphantly.
Nick
“Afternoon, Nicholas Luke,” Imogen chimed, as Nick trudged into the office ten minutes late. At least five of those minutes were his own fault (and Charlie’s, for being so huggable), but the other five he blamed on the company. Because trying to find a parking space near the building was like playing a corporate game of Where’s Wally, and losing.
Elle studied him through her round-rimmed glasses, concerned etched across her brows. “I was starting to think you’d called in sick.”
“Don’t be silly. This place would crumble without me.” Considering Nick had to sort out the ceiling that almost collapsed two months ago, it wasn’t far from the truth.
“How’s the cold?” Tara asked.
He sighed. “Getting there.” He was over the worst of it, thankfully, in no small part due to Charlie’s excessive mother henning throughout the weekend. “What have I missed?”
Elle exchanged a look with Tara. “Are you gonna tell him or should I?”
“We’ve had a complaint about the loos,” Tara said. “Someone doesn’t know how to aim.”
“That’ll be Harry,” Nick muttered under his breath. Daddy Greene was one of the main company shareholders, which was the only plausible explanation as to why Harry Greene was still employed.
He rolled up his shirt sleeves and went to sort it out. It was menial work, and not what he signed up for when he went for a role in site management, but the budget for an actual cleaner only stretched so far. In truth, Nick didn’t really mind cleaning the bog. He preferred it to sitting behind a desk. He preferred a lot of things to sitting behind a desk, actually.
Right now though, reclining in a swivel chair with a cup of tea seemed increasingly appealing. It took less than a minute of bending over to mop the floor and inhaling industrial strength cleaner for Nick’s nose—which had, up until now, been fairly well behaved—to start streaming in earnest. He proceeded to use more blue roll on himself than his surroundings. And then he made the mistake of liberally spraying air freshener, which set off a ridiculous sneezing fit. Five in a row. Jesus.
He propped himself up at the sink, head spinning and throat raw, taking careful breaths. When no more sneezes threatened to accost him, he turned on the tap and scrubbed his hands clean. And that was when the door opened.
Before Nick could spot the offender, the door slammed closed again with a panicked, “Sorry!”
He smiled to himself. He’d recognise that voice from a mile away. “Charlie?”
Slowly, the door opened a crack, and a pair of periwinkle blue eyes poked through. “Hi.”
Nick grinned blearily. “Hi.”
“I didn’t mean to barge in.”
“You’re fine, I was only cleaning. Is anyone else outside?”
Charlie looked this way and that, then shook his head.
“Then get in here.”
They locked the bathroom door behind them, and Nick almost knocked over the mop as Charlie backed him into the wall. The kiss was disappointingly brief though, before Charlie pulled away and regarded him with a furrow in his brow.
“Are you alright? You sound worse.”
“I’m fine. Just breathed in too much Febreze, that’s all.”
“We should probably get you out of here, then.”
“Mhm. Just a few seconds longer,” Nick said, and smushed his face into the crook of Charlie’s neck to recharge and smell something better than Linen and Sky.
Nick needed this hug, but it seemed Charlie needed it even more by the way he flopped into Nick’s arms with a sniffle and didn’t let go.
“Hey,” Nick murmured. He ran his fingers into Charlie’s curls, giving his scalp a light scritch. “What about you, are you okay?”
“Hate being ill. It’s not even than bad, I just—”
“I know,” Nick murmured. The first day had been rough for him too. The symptoms had thwacked him out of nowhere, while bright summer sun streamed through the office windows like a mockery of his fate. He’d pushed through work feeling increasingly lousy, clocked out late after a meeting overran, then driven straight to rugby to coach his Under 11s.
When he’d finally shown up at Charlie’s doorstep for date night, exhausted and hoarse and running a little fever, Charlie had driven him straight home and refused to leave his side for the next two days.
“Just take it easy, okay?” Nick said. “We’ll clock out at five on the dot. Then I’ll drive us back to mine and we can rot on the sofa with some Lemsip and watch something stupid on the telly.”
“Drag Race?” Charlie asked hopefully.
“Whatever you like, darling.” He pressed his lips to Charlie’s forehead—cool, no fever—and his stomach relaxed a little. “Right. I’ll let you take your shit in peace.”
“Fuck off,” Charlie said. “I only came here to get some tissues.”
“If you say so, babe.”
There was a warm cup of tea waiting for Nick when he got back to the office. Milk, and an unholy yet delicious—despite what Charlie said—amount of sugar. Definitely Imogen’s doing. “You’re a star,” he said, downing a third of it in one glug. “I owe you one.”
Imogen beamed. “Does this mean you’re coming to my work do?”
“There’s a work do?”
“Nicholas. I’ve sent, like, ten reminders about it on Teams.”
Ah. The July one. As People Manager, Imogen had taken to organising social events every other month for… team building, or something? In other words, it was an excuse to get semi-drunk on company money.
“So this is bribery tea?” he said, faintly amused.
“It’s actually a token of appreciation for cleaning Harry’s piss, but yes, if you want.” She perched her chin on her fingers, pleading eyes wide as saucers. “Will you come?”
“When is it?”
“Tonight, at six.”
Tonight? Nick had plans tonight. To do nothing. With Charlie.
He placed the mug on his desk with a sigh. “I dunno, Imogen. I was gonna have a night in with the boyfriend—”
“Please come,” she wheedled. “It’s gonna be really chill, I promise, and you don’t have to stay for long.”
“She told Barnes she’d get the attendance up from last time,” Elle explained. “She’s been doing this to everyone.”
The last social Imogen organised, she’d made the mistake of hosting it the same night as Eurovision, not accounting for the demographic of queers working at the company. Apparently the only people who’d shown up were Barnes (the CEO), and Harry Greene for the free beers.
“Only if you feel up to it though, Nick,” Tara said kindly. “No pressure.”
Imogen flashed her a look of betrayal. “Yes, pressure. If I don’t meet Barnes’ quota, he threatened to cut my funding.” To Nick, she added, “You can even bring your boyfriend if you want. Tara’s bringing Darcy along.”
Elle frowned. “Imogen, I think Barnes meant actual employees—”
“Oh my god, yes,” Tara squealed. “It can be a double date!”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Tara, I thought you were on my side.”
“Oh come on, Nick, you can’t keep telling us about how amazing and gorgeous and perfect your boyfriend is and not expect us to want to meet him!”
He rubbed his neck with an embarrassed chuckle. “Maybe another time. He’s a bit poorly at the moment.”
“But you’ll come?” Imogen asked.
Nick didn’t think he’d experienced this level of persistence since the last time Nellie wanted cheese. “Fine,” he relented. “I’ll join for a bit.”
Nick
I’m sorry Char
I know I said we’d clock out together
But Imogen’s roped me into going to the work do tonight
I can drive you home first and join you after?
Charlie
😭
nws love
how long do you plan on staying?
Nick
Not long
Probably for like one drink
Charlie
in that case i’ll come along too
Nick
Are you sure??
You don’t have to
Charlie
tbh i think a double vodka lemonade will heal me
also tao and isaac are going
I can just catch a lift with them
Nick
Lol okay if you’re sure ❤️
Charlie
but afterwards we’re still going to yours?
and watching drag race on the sofa?
Nick
ofc ofc
Isaac
“You seriously want to come to this?” Isaac asked, as Charlie squeezed his long limbs into the back seat of Tao’s mini. After sniffling and sneezing at his desk for the past eight hours, Isaac would have thought he’d be making a beeline for his bed, not the local bar.
“Mm-hmm,” Charlie murmured, with about as much enthusiasm as Isaac’s nephew’s pet rock.
Isaac and Tao exchanged glances. “Charlie, I can drive you home,” Tao said. “It’s not a problem.”
“It’s fine. Honestly. I’m fine.”
“Charlie.”
“Fine enough to hydrate myself with my one free drink and then dip.”
“You know what? I respect that,” Tao said, and started the engine.
“Do you know the way?” Isaac asked, as Tao pulled onto the main road.
“Nope. I’m following the girls.”
‘The girls’ was an affectionate nickname for their colleagues in the office next door. Since Charlie, Isaac and Tao were the GAYs (Gay nerd, Aroace bookworm and wannabe cinematic Youtuber, in that order (formerly the GAAYs, during the two months Christian ‘Airhead’ McBride joined their editorial team, before leaving for a park ranger apprenticeship)), it just made sense.
The girls used to be Elle, Imogen, Tara and Sahar. But then Nick Nelson replaced Sahar seven months ago. A broad, blond guy with the upper physique of a Toblerone and the temperament of a teddy bear. Instead of changing the nickname, he’d just become one of the girls too.
In any case, the girls were all in Nick’s car, ahead of them, and since Imogen had organised this thing, it was safe to assume they knew where they were going.
The turnout at the bar was impressive for a Monday evening. Imogen wielded the company card and zealously paid for everyone’s first round. Isaac went for his trusted go-to, a lavender gin and tonic; Tao experimented with something obscure and pretentious, and probably equally disgusting from the way his soul looked ready to abandon his body at the first sip; Charlie chose a lemonade (sensible) with two shots of vodka (less sensible). He claimed the vodka was medicinal.
Drinks in hand, the three of them went to mingle with the girls, who’d found a free table in the corner. Among them was an unfamiliar face with a truly spectacular mullet. Tara’s partner, it turned out, the legendary Darcy Olsson.
Isaac never said much at these things. And he didn’t need to. Firstly, Darcy yapped enough for three people combined, four after the tequila shot; and secondly, there was much more to be gained from people watching.
For instance.
Tao and Elle. They’d remained work besties even after Elle had left Editing for Design (the Truham Press book covers had never looked better), and their totally professional, totally work-related Teams chat was ninety percent cat gifs and ten percent ranting about the latest blockbuster releases. But something was different today. Different in the way Tao choked down half of his drink before daring to strike up a conversation with her, and the way Elle stole shy glances at him when he wasn’t looking, a soft smile on her face. Isaac shouldn’t have been surprised by this development. Elle was a goddess with an inexplicable fondness for dorks, and Tao was, well, a dork. But he hadn’t expected it to play out before his very eyes like a workplace romcom.
Meanwhile, across the table, it seemed another romcom was unfolding as Tara and Darcy helped Imogen lesbianify her Hinge profile.
Charlie—bless him—was resting his head on Isaac’s shoulder, oblivious to all of this. His glass was empty, so the two shots of vodka must have started to kick in. Isaac had offered up his pillow services a few minutes ago, and despite Charlie’s protests about contagion, he’d succumbed without much convincing. Isaac let him stay there, undisturbed. As much as he had the urge to minorly freak out with someone about Tao and Elle, Charlie needed the rest more.
Nick, strangely enough, was equally subdued. Isaac had witnessed him on many a night out knocking back beers and dad dancing to One Direction, but he was probably driving later, because he’d opted for an orange juice this time. He chewed absently at his straw, cheek propped up on one hand. When his gaze drifted in Isaac’s direction, the furrow in his brow deepened.
“Is he alright?” he asked Isaac softly.
It took a second for Isaac to realise that Nick meant Charlie, who’d since closed his eyes and looked well on his way to nodding off. Isaac’s heart warmed a little. Nick didn’t interact with their team much, so it was sweet of him to check in.
“Just a bit under the weather,” he whispered back.
That did little to ease the concern on Nick’s face, but he nodded and let them be in favour of going on his phone.
Not long later, Charlie’s pocket buzzed softly. He roused and checked the notification. “That’s my Uber,” he said. “I’m gonna dip.”
Isaac didn’t recall him ordering one, but he didn’t think much of it. “Look after yourself, yeah?”
“Will do.” Charlie gave them all a tired wave and slipped out.
“Think I’m gonna head too,” Nick said, looking more than a little relieved. Idly, Isaac wondered if he’d just been sitting there waiting for someone else to leave so he didn’t have to be the first. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“Rest up, Nick. Get well,” Tara said.
Isaac waited until Nick had left the building before turning to Tara. “Nick’s ill?” That would explain why he’d looked run down as well, and had foregone the beers.
“A little, he’s just getting over a cold.”
“Weird time of year for that, isn’t it?” Darcy remarked.
“Must be going round at the moment,” Tao said. “Charlie’s ill too.”
“Yeah, he looked it,” Tara said. “Poor thing.”
“Isn’t it strange they managed to get ill at the same time?” Isaac thought aloud.
“I’m not surprised in Nick’s case,” said Imogen. “That muppet’s always catching some germ.”
“This one really did a number on him though,” Tara said. “He was sneezing his head off on Friday.”
“Blame those kids he works with,” Elle said.
“Wait, I thought Nick was the site guy?” said Tao. “What does that have to do with kids?”
“He never told you?” Elle asked, surprised. “Nick works two jobs. Truham Press during the day, and after-school rugby coaching most evenings.”
Tao lifted his eyebrows in a mixture of admiration and mild distaste, as he often did when sport was mentioned. “Damn. That explains the arms.”
A thought struck Isaac so forcefully, his breath drew up short. He tapped Tao’s shoulder. “Will you come with me to get another drink?”
“I’m good, actually—”
“Tao.”
At Isaac’s pointed glare, Tao fumbled out of his seat. “On second thoughts, I do fancy an apple juice.”
“Do you remember what Charlie said?” Isaac hissed, once they were at the bar. “About his boyfriend?”
“What, that he’s a jock?”
“That he coaches under 11s rugby! And that he got sick off the kids.”
Tao gaped at him. “You’re not saying… Nick Nelson?”
“They’ve caught suspiciously similar colds.” Charlie, too, had been sneezing his head off all day. “Nick fits the golden retriever profile. Like, perfectly. And the timeline checks out. Nick joined us in January, and Charlie told us he’d started seeing someone in February.”
“Yeah, but you’ve forgotten one thing. The boyfriend’s name is—” Tao trailed off. “Not Nick. Fuck, what was it again?”
“Luke,” Isaac said. “But… what if that’s not his real name?”
“You think Charlie made up some random name to hide the fact he’s shagging the guy in the office next door?”
“I don’t know—maybe?” It sounded ridiculous when Tao put it that way, but Charlie had once persuaded Marketing into giving him access to the Truham Press Instagram account and used it to slide into Henry Maddox’s DMs, so ridiculousness was not beyond him.
“Have you even seen Nick and Charlie talk to each other outside of work meetings?”
“Well, not really, but they could be overcompensating so no one suspects them.”
“Look. I know you want your secret coworker boyfriend theory to be true, but you’re really overthinking this, Isaac. Chances are this Luke guy works at the same rugby club, and he also caught the cold that the kids are passing around. This thing with Nick is probably just a coincidence.”
“Yeah,” Isaac said, deflating. “Yeah, you’re right.”
But he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the idea. And maybe he was prone to flights of fancy, what with all those romance novels he read, but he could actually kind of see it. Nick and Charlie.
Tao got two apple juices, one for him and one for Elle, and returned to continue his flirting. Nothing else interesting was happening around the table, and Isaac needed a distraction. It was time to break out the book, he decided. Today’s read was The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. He’d treated himself to a fancy hardback edition with this month’s pay check, and ran his fingers along the gold lettering in reverence. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Even the name had sparked its own mystery. For years, Isaac had assumed Conan Doyle was the author’s surname, until James McEwan from Marketing had enlightened him. Turns out, Conan was in fact his middle name, according to baptism records.
Isaac’s fingers froze on the edge of the spine.
He tossed the book onto the table and pulled out his work laptop.
Tao stared at him. “Isaac, what are you doing?”
“I just need to check something.”
“It’s out of hours. Put that thing away, you daft fool. You don’t get paid enough for this.”
Ignoring Tao, Isaac opened Outlook. In the search bar, he typed in Nicholas Nelson, and clicked on the profile icon beside his email.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
“What?” Tao asked.
Isaac showed him the screen. “Believe me now?”
Later, Isaac sent Charlie a text. Just three words.
Charlie
The message pinged through right as Tia Kofi was strutting the runway in her “adequate” (iconic) guacamole green dress. It came from Isaac’s personal number, so wasn’t work related. Charlie was ready to save it for later, until he caught a glimpse of the words on the screen.
Isaac
Nicholas LUKE Nelson?
His stomach nearly fell out of his arse.
Okay, this was salvageable. Charlie just had to play dumb. He and Nick had been careful to avoid each other at work, and Isaac couldn’t have spotted them getting into the same car tonight and sharing several lazy kisses, since Nick had taken pains to park out of sight around the corner. There was no way Isaac had any concrete evidence. This was probably just a shot in the dark.
Charlie
huh?
what about him?
Isaac
Charlie bless your heart
You don’t need to give me that
I’m right about you two, aren’t I?
“Fuck,” Charlie said aloud. “Bollocks.”
Nick paused the episode and looked down at where Charlie was snuggled up on his lap, his forehead freckles crinkling up with a frown. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“We’ve been clocked,” Charlie said, and handed Nick his phone.
Nick was calmer about it than Charlie had anticipated. He scrolled through the messages, sighed once, and said, “Hmm, yeah, that’s not ideal.”
“This is all my fault,” Charlie groaned. “He and Tao kept pestering me this morning for your name, and I caved and said Luke. I should’ve just made something up. Like—I dunno—Sebastian.”
Nick snorted, petting Charlie’s hair. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, babe. It was gonna happen sooner or later.”
“Well, I was banking on later,” Charlie moaned, sitting up. “God, I can’t believe I told Isaac your middle name and he figured it out in less than twenty-four hours, the canny bastard.”
“It’s quite impressive, actually—”
“No wonder MI5 wanted to recruit him.”
Nick blinked owlishly. “What.”
In despair, Charlie sent Isaac another text.
Charlie
what gave it away?
Isaac
Elementary, my dear Watson.
Also your shared summer lurgy
“Oops,” Nick said, reading the messages over Charlie’s shoulder. Then, in what was almost immaculate timing, he turned his head to the side and sneezed.
“I take it back,” Charlie muttered, handing him the tissue box. “This is not just my fault.”
Charlie
does anyone else know?
Isaac
Just me
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.
Isaac
And Tao
Well, shit.
Isaac could keep a secret. Tao could try to keep a secret with the best of intentions, then inevitably end up blurting the damn thing so loudly in conversation that all the neighbours and their dogs were in on it too.
Isaac
I can keep him silent if you want
I have blackmail material of his erotic dance moves
The offer was tempting, despite its moral dubiousness. But this wasn’t just Charlie’s decision. Not to mention, his current cognitive capabilities were somewhat hindered by the Sudafed and remnants of ill-advised vodka in his system. “What do you think?” he asked Nick.
“Well, I think it’s probably a bit pointless to try and keep a lid on it if Tao knows.”
“True,” Charlie agreed. The knot in his throat tightened. “But…” His eyes prickled. He sniffed hard, which shouldn’t have raised alarm bells considering he’d been doing it all day, but Nick was too damn perceptive.
“Hey,” he said gently. “What is it?”
Charlie let out a slow breath. This wasn’t a can of worms he fancied opening today, or ever, but Nick deserved some honesty. “You know I told you I came out when I was in Year Nine?”
“Yeah?” Nick took the hand that Charlie had clamped around his own upper arm like a vice—he hadn’t even realised he was doing it—and threaded their fingers together.
“Well, that wasn’t… It wasn’t by choice. I was going out with this boy, you see. He was a knob, but that’s besides the point. We got caught, he blamed me, and the rumour mill at school was just…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. Christ, this damned cold was getting the better of him. “I don’t want that to happen again. Especially to you.”
Nick looked like he’d just watched a puppy being kicked. “Come here,” he said, and Charlie buried his face in Nick’s chest, if only to stop seeing that needlessly anguished look in his eyes. Nick circled his arms around Charlie, pressing a lingering kiss to his hair. “You know Truham Press isn’t secondary school, right? Like, I’m pretty sure statistically we outnumber the straights. I can’t think of anyone who’d give us a hard time.”
Charlie lifted his head and raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, Harry Greene might say something stupid, but you can bet your arse he’d get absolutely slaughtered for it by the butch lesbians in Accounting. Honestly, Char, I think the worst thing that would happen is a mildly awkward meeting with HR where they tell us not to snog each other at work.”
“Because we obviously have never done that,” Charlie said, bemused.
“Never, ever in our lives,” Nick murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting. And then he leant in to brush his smiling lips against Charlie’s.
While Nick’s words were a comfort, nothing drew tension out of Charlie like his kisses. Maybe Nick sensed that, because instead of pulling away, he deepened this one into something slow, indulgent, taking his time until all the knots in Charlie’s stomach had unravelled into butterflies.
“You know,” Nick said, cradling Charlie’s cheek in his palm, “I always assumed you wanting to keep it a secret at work was damage control. In case things didn’t work out between us.”
“Maybe at the start,” Charlie admitted. “But I guess at some point along the way I stopped worrying about that.”
“Good,” Nick said. “Because I think things are working out pretty damn well. And I want you to know that I have every intention of keeping it that way.”
A fond smile crept across Charlie’s face. “Do you now?”
“Yep. Ideally until we’re old and grey and living out our last days in a retirement home by the sea.”
Usually Charlie would tease him for this, call him a right old sap and shut him up with a kiss on the lips. But he was a little run down today, a little maudlin, so he kissed the back of Nick’s hand instead and whispered, “Me too.”
Maybe six months was too soon to be talking about forevers. Maybe it was foolish of them. Or maybe they would look back on this moment fifty years from now and realise that they’d been right all along. Charlie was willing to bet on the latter.
“We can carry on keeping it a secret, if that’s what you want,” Nick said. “Even if it gets out, we can just deny it.”
“Actually, I was thinking about it and, well… It might be nice not to have to pretend to be platonic coworkers anymore?”
Nick’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Charlie thought back to what his art teacher had once said. Don’t let anyone make you disappear, Charlie. It seemed that the fourteen-year-old inside of him had just needed to get the memo that he was finally safe. “I think it’s time I stopped hiding away so much. And making you hide away too.”
Nick squeezed his hand. Haltingly, he asked, “So, does this mean we’re going to tell people?”
“Yeah. If that’s also what you want?”
“Charlie.” He laughed, bright and giddy. “You have no idea. Literally all I’ve wanted is to be able to sit with you at lunch, and leave you cups of tea at your desk, and—and stick a photo booth strip of us on my PC monitor—”
“Oh my god,” Charlie laughed. “Come here, you idiot.”
Charlie
no need to resort to blackmail, babe
i talked to nick
we’re okay with people knowing
Isaac
Wonderful!
Is it okay if I tell the girls?
Charlie
go for it!
It took precisely sixty-two seconds for the first message to appear in the Girls and GAYs group chat.
Imogen
@nicholas OMG is it true about you and Charlie???
Nick turned to Charlie. “Hard launch?”
“Hard launch,” Charlie agreed.
Nick took a selfie of them on the sofa, Charlie’s head pillowed in the crook of his neck, both of them with matching pink noses and post-makeout hair to boot, and sent it to the group chat with the caption, yes.
Immediately, they were showered with an influx of heart-react emojis.
Imogen
CUTIES 🥰🥰🥰
Elle
So happy for you both!
Tara
Actually insane that Mr Hot Perfect and Gorgeous was next door to us this whole time
Isaac
Guys, Tao and I need to settle a bet
Is Nick Nelson:
a) a jock?
b) a nerd?
Unsurprisingly, Tao voted jock and Isaac voted nerd. But then Imogen added a third option to the poll—c) dork—which all the girls promptly voted for. Grinning, Charlie put in his vote as well. Solidarity with women, and all.
“Hey!” Nick protested.
“Darling, you know it’s true.”
Then, out of nowhere, a message popped up from Christian McBride who, despite having left Truham Press months ago, evidently had not yet been kicked off the group chat.
Christian
Aw I didn’t know you two were such good mates!
Half an episode of Drag Race later, the doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t think so,” Nick said, confused. “Hold on.”
He looked through the peep hole and opened the door. Charlie heard an unfamiliar voice, followed by a, “Sorry, mate, I think you’ve got the wrong flat,” from Nick.
Charlie couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation, but Nick returned a minute later holding a brown paper bag. “Delivery guy,” he explained. “Said this is for Nick and Charlie. You didn’t order anything, did you?”
“No? That’s so weird.”
Dubious, Nick opened the bag. Then his face broke out in a wide grin. He pushed the bag to Charlie. “Check this out.”
Inside were two servings of chicken noodle soup, and a note attached. As Charlie read it, the last of his worry dissipated. They would be okay, he thought. More than okay.
We had some money left on the summer social budget. Enjoy your night in together x
And that they did.
