Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Now 

It’s a blisteringly hot day in Manchester. Predictably, people are quickly losing their decorum as the rare summer sun beats down between the high-rises: every restaurant and pub has their windows thrown wide open, punters spilling out of the doors with a variety of pints and spritzes clutched in-hand, and there are alarming numbers of red-chested men wandering the streets with their tops off. It’s 2pm on a Thursday, but it’s clear from the sheer number of people out in the open that no one will be getting any work done today. 

Charlie dodges around them easily as he marches onwards to his destination. There are several unanswered texts sitting in notifications: the LGBTQ+ Soc is throwing an impromptu barbeque in someone’s garden before hitting Canal Street for a night out; his English seminar group have, inexplicably, hired a small boat to clumsily manoeuvre down the waterways as they all read from their favourite collections of poetry; and his housemates have bought enough beer to supply a small army, planning to lie on the roof of their shared house for the entire afternoon. 

Charlie’s ignoring them all, though: exams are over, the sun is out, and Charlie? Well, Charlie’s going to a rugby match. 

+

Then

@nick_nzzzz followed you.

@charlie_spr1 followed you.

@nick_nzzzz
Hi 
Sorry for the random message. 
I don’t know if you remember me, but we talked at the Varsity party on Saturday?
I was the rugby player from Leeds who managed to spill his drink on you :/

@charlie_spr1
I remember
how could i forget those shorts

@nick_nzzzz 
:-) 
Well I just wanted to get in touch and say sorry again 
But also that I really enjoyed talking to you 
Even if we didn’t get very long :( 

@charlie_spr1
I really enjoyed talking to you too
even though i had to sacrifice my favourite vest to make it happen

@nick_nzzzz 
Shit, sorry 

@charlie_spr1
I’m joking, don't worry
vanish worked it’s wonders
she will survive to see another manc saturday night

@nick_nzzzz  
Well I’m glad
It was a very, very nice vest
On a very, very nice boy

@charlie_spr1
remind me why you had to leave in such a rush?
I kind of feel like we have unfinished business x

@nick_nzzzz
Bus back to Leeds :( 
We had training on the Sunday morning, then another match today
Stupid bus

@charlie_spr1
very, very stupid bus
how did the match go?

@nick_nzzzz
Indeed 
It was fine, we won
And for what it’s worth
I feel like we have unfinished business, too 

@charlie_spr1
well 
good
:)

@nick_nzzzz 
Great, even. 
So… Any chance you’re in Leeds anytime soon?

@charlie_spr1
not really :/ 
I’m kind of stuck here until after exams
then I'm spending the summer in paris on a publishing internship
any chance you’ll be in manchester?

@nick_nzzzz
That is so cool! 
So fucking cool, Charlie
Paris will suit you :-) 
And no :( we’ve got weekend matches for the next few weeks then I’m working the whole summer

@charlie_spr1
oh 
that sucks
what are you working as?

@nick_nzzzz
It does suck
I'm coaching at a kids rugby camp 

@charlie_spr1
of course you are

@nick_nzzzz
Lol
Why does everyone keep saying that to me?
I can’t believe you’re going to Paris 
J'aimerais pouvoir être là avec toi

@charlie_spr1
wait
you speak french??
or are you just very quick with google translate?

@nick_nzzzz
Peut-être que j'essaie juste de t'impressionner

@charlie_spr1
nick?

@nick_nzzzz
Yeah?

@charlie_spr1
I hate the bus

+

Now

The doubt sets in around the same time Charlie reaches the sports grounds. Spectators are milling in, clutching six-packs as they shout across the field to their friends and claim space around the edges of the pitch. This is not a space Charlie usually occupies: in fact, the last time he’d knowingly gone to one of Manchester Uni’s sports-adjacent events was nearly a year ago, when his housemates had dragged him to the Varsity afterparty where he first met Nick. 

Charlie had spotted him almost immediately, still dressed in his kit and laughing with one of his teammates in the middle of the kitchen: a tall and lovely stranger, his hair a little damp from his post-match shower. Charlie had been giving him a quick once-over — so sue him, he had a thing for the outfits — when suddenly the boy had looked up, catching his eye. Charlie had looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught out. 

There was also that tendril of fear, left over from school, that this presumably-straight boy with the wide smile might not take too kindly to a lingering glance from another man. Charlie needn’t have worried though: when he gathered up the courage to look back, the boy was still looking at him, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he tilted the lip of his bottle towards Charlie in acknowledgement. Charlie lifted his own bottle in reply and, emboldened by the strange intensity in his gaze, winked. 

Before Charlie had time to enjoy the pretty flush that worked its way across the stranger's face, he was quickly dragged away by one of his housemates to join in on a game of shot roulette. They caught eyes a few more times as the party progressed — seemingly taking it in turns to be the one staring. Then, the boy had been entering the kitchen just as Charlie was exiting, leading to a collision that left Charlie with vodka-cranberry right down his front. After the initial chaos of apologies, and laughter as they tried in vain to blot the stain with loo roll, Nick had introduced himself properly, the two of them falling easily into conversation. 

Charlie had been bold, and confident and forward in a way he wasn’t usually. He wasn’t even that drunk, really; something about the tilt of Nick’s body towards him, and the shine of his eyes as they’d secreted themselves in the corner of the room, seemed to bring it out in him. They talked and laughed and gradually inched closer and closer together, until it seemed like a foregone conclusion that someone would reach out eventually, inevitably, and make contact. Too soon, though, one of Nick’s teammates came over, shouting something about the bus back to Leeds, and about their coach being pissed off, dragging Nick out of his life just as quickly as he had arrived.

Charlie tried not to feel too downtrodden about it, chalking it down to just another missed connection at a party. The fates hadn’t aligned, and that was OK. Maybe it was a good thing, actually: this way it could remain a crystalline moment in time, all giddiness and possibility, instead of being ruined by inevitable heartbreak. He found his mind drifting back to Nick, though, over the next few days as he packed up to move out of first year halls: about the way he had smiled and waxed lyrical about how cool it was that Charlie played the drums; the way he gently teased him for his post-spill drink of choice — a Smirnoff Ice, thank you very much — and the way his eyes had followed the motion of Charlie’s throat as he’d stolen his beer in retaliation and taken a sip. Charlie was almost certain that Nick had forgotten all about him the moment the team bus hit the M60, but it was nice to dream. 

A few days later, Charlie was in the library, preparing to submit the last of his assignments, when Nick’s name popped up on his phone. Charlie had been delighted, of course, but after their first set of messages, he had assumed that would be that: Nick was in Leeds, Charlie was in Manchester, and it would be stupid to think it could go anywhere further. 

Nick's name just kept popping up, though, and Charlie, driven by a strange impetus that was as unfamiliar as it was exciting, just kept replying.

+

Then 

@nick_nzzzz replied to your story. 
I knew Paris would suit you. 

@charlie_spr1
I bet you say that to all the boys

@nick_nzzzz
Once you get to know me better you will realise how hilariously untrue that is 

@charlie_spr1
I'm going to get to know you better, am I?

@nick_nzzzz
I really hope so

@charlie_spr1
:)
how's the coaching going?

@nick_nzzzz
It’s fun!
The kids are great 
I’m mostly just going to work and hanging out with my mum tbh
I know that's a bit sad
How is Paris?

@charlie_spr1
no its cute
I bet the kids love you
the internship is hard work but rewarding
I kind of feel like i'm doing what i'm meant to be doing?
it's a nice feeling
you were right, paris is amazing 
the parisians are… parisian

@nick_nzzzz
Lol
You get used to it after a while 
I'm so, so glad you’re enjoying it
You deserve it
I was just telling my mum that my friend Charlie is taking the Parisian publishing world by storm

@charlie_spr1
nick!
i really am mostly just fetching coffees

@nick_nzzzz
And doing it with style, I bet 
So… any nice Parisian boys?

@charlie_spr1
fishing, are we?

@nick_nzzzz
Maybe 

@charlie_spr1
at least you admit it

@nick_nzzzz
I may not be subtle, but at least I'm honest.

@charlie_spr1
I’ll give you that
and to answer your question
no, not really
…
not enough rugby players for my liking

@nick_nzzzz
:-) 

+

Now 

Charlie is pulled from his reverie when a cheer erupts around the pitch. He looks up to see the Leeds team running out from the changing rooms, waving at the spectators and clapping each other on the back as they go. 

Then, from between the writhing mass of bodies, comes Nick. Charlie recognises him even from this distance, once again tall and lovely in his kit. Nick isn’t joining in with the roughhousing between his teammates, or playing up to the crowd. Instead, he is scanning the edge of the pitch, eyebrows knitted together as he searches something out. When they make eye contact, Nick’s face relaxes and he breaks out in a smile, waving as he begins to jog towards him. 

Charlie feels his stomach swoop as Nick gets closer, raising his arm stupidly in front of him in reply. Suddenly, he has no idea what to say; he’s not entirely sure where they stand. As their messages had progressed, Nick had gone from hot, sweet rugby boy, to Nick. Nick, who loved his dogs, and his mum, and who wanted to be a teacher someday. Nick, who apparently spoke French, and who sent him an entire painstakingly typed-out Google doc of recommendations for Paris, responding with unbridled delight when Charlie actually visited each place on the list and sent his reviews. 

Charlie had kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for their messages to lose their warmth or consistency, but somehow they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. 

The flirty tone of their earlier messages waned slightly over time, which was probably only natural as time passed and they moved beyond surface level topics. Still, it had left Charlie… confused. Were they friends? Pen pals? Just helping each other pass the time between lectures and practice and nights out? Manchester and Leeds weren’t that far apart — only an hour and a vaguely uncomfortable train journey away. Realistically, once they were both back at uni after their respective summers, they could have easily made the journey. Nick had never asked, though, and so Charlie hadn’t either. 

Friends, he had decided. That was probably what Nick wanted, and Charlie knew that the chances of whatever smouldering attraction that had existed between them still being there, after nearly a year of messages shared and anxieties exchanged, was slim. It was enough, he thought. The more he spoke to Nick, the more his immediate attraction transformed into something softer, and deeper. He could be Nick’s friend. 

“Hi,” Nick calls out once he’s a few feet away, his voice immediate in Charlie’s ears even over the noise of the spectators.  

“Hi,” Charlie calls back after a brief delay, his tongue feeling heavy with a mixture of nerves and anticipation.  

“It’s you,” Nick says, coming to a stop in front of him. Friends, Charlie reminds himself as he sees how the sun is playing through the hair falling down into Nick’s face, making the brown in his eyes deep and liquid. Just friends.

Charlie finds his voice. “And it’s you,” he replies, because it is. Nick, standing in front of him, in the flesh. He is, somehow, even better than Charlie remembered: grinning and earnest and strong under the intense summer sun. Every giddy, light feeling that had overtaken him at their first meeting bubbles up again immediately, and he feels his resolve to play it cool fly out the window. “You look good,” he hears himself say from somewhere outside his body. 

Nick flushes, the barest hint of pink blooming under his freckles. Charlie desperately wants to press his lips to them, to feel the temperature of his skin change under his hands. 

“So do you,” Nick replies quietly, and Charlie feels a thrill run through him. They’re quiet, then, for a moment, both just looking at each other. It’s not awkward. Charlie thinks he could probably stand like this for hours; everything about Nick just seems to invite him in. “Thank you for coming,” Nick continues eventually. “I know you probably have about a million better things to be getting on with.”

“Not really,” Charlie admits. I’d rather be here with you, anyway. 

“Nick!” one of his teammates calls from where they are gathered in a circle under the posts. “Stop flirting and come join the huddle.”

“Fuck sake,” Nick mutters under his breath. “Sorry, I should-” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Charlie is quick to reply. “I’ll, um,” he gestures behind himself to where most of the spectators are gathered. “I’ll find somewhere to watch.” 

Nick bites his lip, glancing towards his teammates before looking back to Charlie. “Thanks again for coming. I mean it — it’s so good to see you again, properly. Come to the pub, after? I’m the captain, so I can’t really get out of going, but it would be really nice to catch up, you know, face to face.” He reaches up to run a hand through his own hair, suddenly looking unsure. “If you’re not busy, obviously. Don’t worry if you’ve got plans-”

“Nick,” Charlie interrupts. “I’d love to. I’ll be there.”  

Nick grins, and Charlie can’t help but smile back. “OK, good. I’ll just… I guess I’ll go play rugby now.” 

“You probably should.”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, sounding a little breathless. “I’ll see you after.”

Charlie nods. “See you after.” 

Nick runs off towards the posts, glancing back towards Charlie twice as he goes, the second time looking for so long that Charlie gives him another little wave and watches as he accidentally runs straight into the back of one of his teammates. Charlie snorts as he watches Nick stumble over himself to apologise, the other boy just laughing, clapping him on the back and saying something that has Nick flush bright red as he looks over towards Charlie again. 

Well, Charlie thinks, suddenly glad he wore his best jeans, and a top that cuts off just above the waistband, maybe not friends, then.

+

Then 

Tao 
how did the date go, Charlie?

Charlie
it went

Isaac 
Yikes

Elle
:///
that good, huh?

Charlie
it was fine tbh
he just… wasn’t a match

Tao 
Wasn’t Nick, you mean. 

Elle
Tao!!

Charlie
hush 
the nick thing is a no-go
as you have reminded me many, many times

Isaac 
Remind me why, again?

Charlie
because he lives in a different city
and i met him for a total of about twenty minutes

Elle
It's only an hour on the train 
You’ve been messaging for six months!
I still don't know why you haven’t just gone to visit?

Charlie 
I don't know
he’s never suggested it!

Elle
Have you?

Charlie
…

Isaac
Charlie! 

Charlie
I know, I know 
just… 
what if i'm not what he’s expecting?

Elle 
You’ve already met him 

Charlie 
barely
idk, I feel like I’ve tricked him into thinking im this confident person

Isaac 
You are, Charlie 

Charlie
Not always 

Elle
Who is?

Tao 
I just don't like that he’s been stringing you along
Like he's keeping you on the back burner
It's been months!

Charlie
it's not like that
he’s not like that

Tao
How do you know? Really?

Charlie
idk 
i just feel like i know him
i know how that sounds
and that i, historically, have not been the best judge of character
it's just a feeling

Tao
I don't trust him

Isaac
But we trust Charlie
Right, Tao??

Tao
Of course

Isaac
well then I, personally, vote that we see what happens 

+

Now

The match is… an experience. Charlie’s seen a bit of rugby on TV — brief glimpses when it’s on at the pub, and, more recently, occasionally sitting down to intentionally watch a match, much to the suspicion of his housemates — but in real life, it’s a much more brutal and athletic game than he ever realised. It’s quick, the ball often changing possession faster than Charlie can keep up, and the sharp smack of bodies taking the ball into contact making him cringe at times. 

Of course, throughout the eighty minutes, he keeps a steady focus on Nick, watching as he shouts plays to the rest of the squad, spotting gaps in the defence and capitalising on them. He’s competent and direct, as is demanded when wrangling a group of over-excited, sweaty twenty-somethings into order; it’s such an antithesis to his usual laid-back, warm demeanour that Charlie feels a frisson of excitement at uncovering this new side of him. It’s a feeling that’s only compounded when Nick glances over at him from the huddle during half-time, his face instantly transforming from sharp and focused to a broad, sweet smile when they lock eyes. Charlie wonders how many other sides of Nick there are left to uncover; when Nick smiles at him like that, he can’t help thinking that he might get the chance to find out.

When the final whistle blows, the Leeds supporters erupt in cheers. Charlie shouts along with them, earning him a few dirty looks from the group next to him wearing Manchester Uni paraphernalia, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He watches Nick briefly disappear in the celebratory crush of his teammates, before they all disperse to shake the opposing team's hands. Nick runs back over to him as soon as he’s commiserated with the Manchester captain, ignoring the shouts of his teammates as he goes. He reaches Charlie at full pelt, opening his arms and gathering him into a hug that lifts his feet from the ground. 

“We won,” he shouts in Charlie’s ear, clearly still driven by adrenaline. 

Charlie laughs as his feet find solid ground again. “You won!” 

“Fuck, sorry,” Nick says, letting him go and stepping back. “I’m still all sweaty.” 

“I don’t mind,” Charlie grins. “You wear it well.” 

Nick briefly hides his face in his hands. “Oh God, I’m meant to be playing it cool.” 

“Please don’t,” Charlie finds himself saying. He’d forgotten, in all the anticipation of seeing Nick again, just how fun it was to talk to him. 

“OK then,” Nick agrees easily. “You still up for coming to the pub?” 

Charlie nods, trying to temper his obvious enthusiasm. “Of course.” 

“Great. I need to go and get showered and changed and stuff, but I’ll send you the location on Instagram and meet you there? I’ll show my face and then maybe we can, like, go somewhere? Just the two of us?” Charlie raises his eyebrows. “Just to the park, or another pub, I mean! Or we can stay and have a drink with the team. Whatever you like, honestly.” Nick looks at him with wide eyes, clearly worried he’s insulted him. 

“I’m just teasing, Nick,” Charlie says gently. “That sounds like a great plan.” You can take me anywhere you like. 

Nick laughs and shakes his head. “You’re so…” 

“So what?” 

“Just exactly like I remember.”

“Drunk and covered in cranberry juice?” 

Nick rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Funny, I mean. And almost impossible to keep up with.” 

“Oh,” Charlie says, taken aback. “In a bad way?” 

Nick shakes his head. “Definitely not. In a way that makes me want to keep up, I mean.” He glances over to where the other players have started to filter back into the changing rooms. “I need to go. I wish I didn’t.” 

“Nick, it’s fine. I’ll see you at the pub. And you definitely need a shower.” 

“You said I wore it well!”

Charlie shrugs. “In small doses.” 

“Point taken.” Nick grins at him, standing there for another few moments.

“Nick!”

“OK, I’m going, I’m going.” Nick steps forward like he’s about to hug Charlie again, then clearly thinks the better of it, resulting in a little one-two step that Charlie should probably find embarrassing, but instead finds ridiculously endearing. Eventually, Nick just reaches forward and brushes down the outside of Charlie’s arm in farewell, before turning round and running back towards the changing rooms. A minute later, a message pops up on Charlie’s phone with the location of the pub, and after it, a heart emoji. 

When Charlie pockets it and heads off down the road, he’s practically skipping. 

*

In the end, Charlie runs into some acquaintances from his running club on the street outside the grounds, and ends up caught in polite conversation for a good ten minutes too long. By the time he reaches the pub the team are already there, a mass of green and white that takes up several tables in the far corner. There are members of the Manchester squad too, striking a more sombre tone as they quietly down their pints. 

Nick spots him immediately, clearly having been watching the door. He leaps up and makes his way across the room to Charlie. “You came!” he says, putting his hands on Charlie’s shoulders, pinkies just brushing the bare skin of his arms. The contact sends a spark down Charlie's spine.

“I said I would,” Charlie reminds him. 

“I know, I know, I just felt bad about how little time I got to spend with you at the match after I practically dragged you there. I know it’s not really your thing.” 

Charlie looks him up and down. Nick has changed into Leeds-branded joggers and an off-duty version of the jersey since the match, the top two buttons undone in deference to the heat. “It’s starting to be my thing, I can’t lie.” 

Nick squeezes his arms once before he lets go. “Maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be fully converted,” he challenges, raising an eyebrow. 

Charlie feels his stomach flip pleasantly at the implication. “Here’s hoping.”

They look at each other for a long moment before Nick appears to remember himself. “Come on then,” he says. “I should probably introduce you to the team.” 

Charlie feels his nerves return as they make their way over to the group. He knows Nick is out to the team, and that they all ranged from supportive to frankly-not-giving-a-fuck about it — Nick had told him as much. Still, how would they react to Nick bringing a random boy into the fold? Or, worse, maybe Nick does this all the time, and they won't bat an eye.

He shakes the thought loose as soon as it arrives: he barely knows Nick, as Tao has taken pains to point out, but he knows implicitly that he can trust him. Better yet, he knows that he can trust himself to read into their interactions, and into the way Nick stays close as they wind their way through the crowd. Charlie has, at times in his life, been hesitant and unsure, but he's never been stupid. 

They stop in front of one of the tables, the conversation stopping as the group looks at them expectantly. Nick puts his hand back on Charlie’s shoulder. “Lads, this is Charlie.” 

Charlie waves and sees several members of the team exchange glances, eyebrows raised. A few of them just grin over at them stupidly, clearly trying to catch Nick’s eye. One of the team sitting closest to them — Otis, Charlie’s brain supplies, easily recognisable after one time too many looking through Nick’s Instagram — stands up and holds out a hand.

“Hey Charlie, great to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you,” he grins as he gives him a firm handshake. 

Charlie laughs. “All good, I hope?” 

“Very good,” Otis confirms.

“Like, really good,” one of the other boys interjects.

Several members of the team speak at once, clearly imitating Nick:

“Oh you like Muse? Did I tell you that Charlie plays drums?”

“How long until we get there? Charlie’s coming to the match.”

“Guys, did you know Charlie’s coming to the match?”

“Do you think I should get a haircut before I see Charlie-”

“Right, right,” Nick cajoles them, half-laughing and half-blushing furiously. “You’ve had your fun. We’re going to go grab a drink whilst you all learn how to behave.”

He takes Charlie’s hand and leads him through the mass of bodies, ignoring the well-natured whoops behind them, until they find a quieter section of the bar to wait and place their order. The bartender looks harried as various people lean their torsos across the sticky wood and beer mats to try and capture her attention, and Charlie can see her roll her eyes as the group she’s serving places an order for no less than nine pints of Guinness. 

“It’s probably going to be a while,” Charlie observes. 

Nick shrugs. “I’m not in any rush,” he says, bumping his side gently into Charlie’s.

“Me neither,” Charlie smiles. “So.” Best to be direct, he thinks. “You’ve told your teammates about me, then?”

Nick rests his hip on the bar, looking over at Charlie with a soft smile. “Of course.”

Charlie swallows. “And what… What did you tell them, exactly?”

“Well.” Nick looks out across the pub, wringing his hands nervously. “I said that we’d been messaging a lot, and I was really looking forward to seeing you again.” He looks back at Charlie, a question in his eyes. “I hope that’s alright? Sorry if they were a bit much.” 

“It’s more than alright,” Charlie reassures him, reaching out to put his hand over Nick’s, stopping their motion. “It just took me by surprise.”

“Oh.” Nick flips his hand so they are palm-to-palm, slotting their thumbs together. It’s the first of their touches that can’t be written off as purely casual, but it nearly passes Charlie by because of how right it feels: Nick’s hand fits into his like they’ve been doing this forever. “Why did it surprise you?”

Charlie tilts his head. “I don’t know… I guess I wasn’t really sure what to expect when I saw you again. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised.” He smiles over at Nick. “I’ve told my friends about you, too.” 

“Really?” Nick asks, looking delighted. “And what did you tell them?”

Charlie pretends to think for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know, something along the lines of we’ve been messaging a lot, and I was really looking forward to seeing you again.” 

Nick laughs and pulls him a little closer by their joined hands. “Well… that’s good.”

Charlie hums in agreement, moving the pads of his fingers over the inside of Nick’s wrist. 

Nick bites his lip, eyes flitting between their hands and Charlie’s face. “It’s quite loud in here, isn’t it? Shall we go somewhere a little quieter?” 

Charlie tamps down the urge to shout a resounding yes, wanting to luxuriate in this push-pull of theirs for just a little while longer. “Don’t you have a team to get back to?”

“I’m sure they’ll manage to get drunk and fall over without my guidance. I’d much rather be here with you, anyway.”

“Hello? Are you going to order?” They both jump and turn to see the bartender waiting with her hands on her hips, clearly having been stood there for a while without them noticing. 

“I, um, no, sorry, I think we’re alright actually,” Nick trips over himself to explain. 

“Well then go and flirt somewhere else, please,” she says, making a shoo-ing motion with her hand. “I have a job to do.” 

They both stammer out their apologies as Charlie pulls Nick away from the bar “She’s scary,” Nick whispers in his ear as they walk away, Charlie clapping his hand over his mouth to hide his answering laughter. 

“She’s alright, really,” he explains once he’s recovered. He used to come to this pub a lot in first year, and he’s twice now seen her throw out rowdy groups as security stood uselessly by the door. Once, someone was hurling thinly-veiled homophobic abuse at a staff member who messed up his order, and Charlie watched in delight as she dumped an entire pint of Carling on his head. He explains as much to Nick as they push their way through to the smoking area. It’s normally deserted, but today it’s packed with people clearly trying to make the most of the weather. There are a few spectators from the match who cheer when they see Nick, and Charlie even recognises a few familiar faces from his first year halls, who raise their respective vapes in greeting. 

“Maybe not here,” Charlie mutters. “Come on, I know somewhere.” 

Nick nods his agreement and lets Charlie drag him back inside, past the bar and through to the back of the pub, where they round the corner to a hallway filled with old kegs and cardboard boxes, Charlie triumphantly throwing open the door to the single staff bathroom. 

“How on earth did you know this was here?” Nick asks as they bundle inside. 

Charlie pauses, locking the door and leaning against it. “To be perfectly honest, I hooked up with one of the bartenders in my first year.”

Nick laughs. “Oh, so you bring all the boys in here?” 

Charlie looks up at Nick to search for any trace of disappointment, but there’s only a gentle, teasing glint in his eyes. “Jealous, are you?” 

Nick shakes his head, stepping forward and putting his hand on Charlie’s hip. “Not if I can make you forget all about him.” 

“Well,” Charlie murmurs, running his hand up Nick’s arm until it’s resting on the side of his neck, “go on, then.” 

Nick leans down and pauses just before he makes contact, their noses brushing and shared breath coalescing between them. There’s a delicious anticipation thrumming through every part of Charlie’s body with the fact that they’re here, finally. Inevitably, maybe. He thinks Nick feels it too from the way his eyelids flutter closed, and the way his hand tightens on Charlie’s hip. 

Despite Charlie’s earlier rumination, he knows now that this is the foregone conclusion that they’ve been hurtling towards ever since they locked eyes at that party. Since before that, even, when Charlie had picked Manchester and Nick had joined his rugby team, unknowingly starting the sequence of events that meant their paths would cross in that damp student kitchen, their subsequent separation and distant affection a drawn-out prologue to this one tender moment. 

When their lips meet, Nick gets his wish. Every thought Charlie’s ever had leaves his mind; instead it’s just a symphony of Nick, Nick, Nick. The warm weight of him pressing him into the door, the way he smells like grass and boy and something else entirely, and his hair, still a little damp from his post-match shower as Charlie grips the back of his neck. Nick kisses like he plays rugby: focused, and sure, and so, so competent. The sweetness is there too, though, in his smile after their first small meeting of lips, and in his content sigh as Charlie pulls him forward again, lifting his hand to thumb across Charlie’s cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

Charlie lets himself get lost in it, tilting his head up and dropping his hands to Nick’s hips, slipping his thumb just inside the waistband of his joggers as he pulls him forward so their bodies are flush. Nick comes easily, making a noise from somewhere deep in his chest as he slips a leg through Charlie’s. He puts a hand in Charlie’s hair, thumb dancing across the shell of his ear. Charlie can feel himself hardening between them, hips twitching forward to bear down on the steady pressure of Nick’s thigh as Nick presses himself forward, clearly in a similar state. 

They jerk apart suddenly, breathing heavily, as someone hammers on the door. “Some of us actually have to piss, you know,” comes a disembodied voice through the wood. 

“Fuck sake,” Charlie mutters, turning back to Nick, who’s looking back at him with a dazed expression. Clearly, he’ll have to be the sensible one here. “Come on,” he says, tapping him on the cheek. “We should probably stop monopolising the bathroom.” 

Nick shakes his head back and forth, trying to return himself to reality. “But I was enjoying myself,” he whines. 

Charlie laughs and hides his face in Nick’s neck, the chorus of wanting and being wanted singing loud in his ears. For a moment, he’s tempted to ignore whatever weak-bladdered punter is waiting outside and stay with Nick in this endless, jewel-toned suspension of reality that they’ve found themselves in. The prospect of being finally actually alone together, though, is too tempting to resist. “Shall we go back to mine?” he whispers, still hiding his face as he works his hand back under the hem of Nick’s jersey to rest it on his hip. 

Nick pulls back. “Yeah-” he starts, voice croaking on the syllable. He clears his throat before he continues. “Yes, please.”

Charlie smirks. “What about your bus?” he asks, a little teasing. 

Nick shakes his head, pulling Charlie closer by the waist. “Fuck the bus.”

Charlie nods solemnly, running his hands up Nick’s back and marvelling at the breathy sound it draws from him. “Fuck the bus.”

Chapter Text

Then  

@nick_nzzzz 
Are you awake?

@charlie_spr1
you did not just ‘u up’ me

@nick_nzzzz
No!
God, that looks so bad. 
Sorry 

@charlie_spr1
im joking nick
you live an hour away

@nick_nzzzz
Oh yeah
That sucks

@charlie_spr1
it does, doesn’t it
are you ok though? you’re usually asleep by now
are you out?

@nick_nzzzz
I’ve been out for years xx

@charlie_spr1
nick.

@nick_nzzzz
Lol sorry 
I’m not out tonight actually
The rugby boys are but I didn’t really fancy it 
I’m just awake and thinking 

@charlie_spr1
what are you thinking about?

@nick_nzzzz
Promise you won't laugh 

@charlie_spr1 
I make no such promises
but for you, maybe

@nick_nzzzz
:-)
I’m just thinking 
That

@charlie_spr1 
the suspense is killing me

@nick_nzzzz
Shhh
I’m just thinking that it’s strange that I can miss someone
Even when I only met them for twenty minutes 

Charlie? Did you fall asleep?
Sorry
That was maybe a bit much 

@charlie_spr1 
it wasn’t 
recently i've been thinking the same thing

@nick_nzzzz
Yeah?

@charlie_spr1
Yeah

+

Now

Nick texts his rugby group chat that he won't be joining them for the return journey to Leeds, his phone nearly vibrating out of his hand as the replies quickly filter in. He rolls his eyes and tilts the screen towards Charlie as they head down towards the street to his house: it’s a predictable onslaught of aubergine emojis and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do’s, followed by an offensive number of winky faces. 

“Charming,” Charlie sniffs. 

“I know,” Nick laughs, scrolling down to the bottom of the chat. “I think this might be their way of being supportive.”

“Sai being sensible, as usual,” Charlie notes, pointing to a message that says make sure you have enough for the train home tomorrow!!

Nick just grins at him, something softening behind his eyes. 

“What?” Charlie asks.

“I love that you, like, remember stuff about my friends.”

Charlie shrugs. “Of course.” I remember everything you tell me.

Nick pockets his phone before reaching out and taking Charlie’s hand. “They’ll be glad not to have me on the bus, anyway. I was such a moody bastard last year when they dragged me away from you.”

“Really?” Charlie asks, trying to ignore the way his heart kicks up a notch at the firm sweep of Nick’s thumb over his knuckles. 

“Yup,” Nick nods, before looking over at Charlie, clearly a little embarrassed. “I may or may not have accused Otis of emotionally cockblocking me.”

Charlie laughs and, unable to resist the urge to be closer, pulls Nick into his side by their joined hands, letting go to wind his arm around his waist. Nick comes easily, putting his palm on the small of Charlie’s back as they fall into step. “You know he actually cockblocked you too, don’t you?” Charlie asks.

Nick blushes. “Well, I didn’t want to assume.” 

Charlie stops and turns to face him properly. “You’re very sweet, Nick, but please assume all you like.” 

Nick grins, then runs his hand up Charlie’s back. “Alright then,” he whispers, pulling him forward into a kiss. Charlie melts into it, curling a hand over Nick’s shoulder and pressing the other to his chest. The street is quiet, most of the world still caught up at pubs and parks as the summer sun falls lazily towards the horizon, and, even in the heat, Charlie feels a welcome shiver run up his spine as Nick’s tongue swipes across his, and a warm palm settles on the side of his neck.

Charlie pulls away first, before things can progress beyond what’s acceptable in the middle of the street in fading daylight. They both smile into the moment together, Charlie leaning up to press one more chaste kiss to the side of Nick’s mouth before he speaks. “Come on, we’re nearly there.” He holds out his hand. 

Nick takes it. “Lead the way.”

Charlie pulls him up the road, slightly faster this time. Nick laughs at his urgency and jogs to keep up. Glancing down at his phone, Charlie is relieved to see that his housemates have given up on the roof and made their way to the park; he loves them, of course, but tonight he wants Nick all to himself. Plus, the access to the roof is through the window in his room, and if Nick thought his team were bad, Charlie can only imagine his reaction to the comments they would all make as he ordered them all out of the room in single file. 

“This is me.” Charlie unlocks the door to his little terraced house and pushes it open, gesturing around at the pile of shoes on the floor and the assortment of bikes leant against the wall in the hallway. It’s immediately cooler without the incessant beat of the sun on their backs, both of them breathing a sigh of relief as they step into the shade. 

“It’s nice,” Nick says kindly, kicking off his shoes. 

“It’s a tip.” 

“Definitely cleaner than my place in Leeds. I love Sai and Christian, but I do sometimes wonder who raised them,” Nick ponders. 

“You’re the clean one then?” Charlie asks. 

“Yup,” Nick grins, “Sarah didn’t raise a dirty boy.”

Charlie hums. “More's the pity.”  

They look at each other across the hall for a brief, charged moment, before both promptly doubling over in laughter. 

“Oh God,” Nick wheezes out. “What a line.”

“Don’t,” Charlie begs, wiping tears from his eyes. “I forgot mum-chat and flirting do not mix.” 

“And you were doing so well.” Nick smirks, looking far too pleased with himself. 

“Don’t start, Mr ‘I’ll make you forget all about him.’” Charlie gives Nick a playful push and moves past him into the kitchen-living room, throwing himself dramatically onto the sofa. 

“I thought that was quite good, actually,” Nick pouts, following close behind and seating himself next to Charlie. They both lean back against the cushions and look at each other. 

“Well,” Charlie allows. “It worked, didn’t it?” 

Nick throws out an arm so it’s resting on the cushions behind Charlie’s head. “It did. Lucky me.” 

Charlie smiles and shuffles down a bit further so his head is resting on Nick’s arm. “I’m not usually like this, you know.”

“Like what?”

“So flirty. Not sober, anyway.”

“Me neither… I think you must bring it out in me.” Nick looks up at the ceiling as he chooses his next words. “I’m so glad I spilled my drink on you. I don’t think I would have had the balls to come up and talk to you otherwise, even though I really, really wanted to. I’m a bit of an awkward sod, normally.”

“I’m glad you did, too,” Charlie admits, reaching out to roll the fabric of Nick’s jersey between his fingers. “I was worried, after, that maybe I’d come on too strong. Then you found me on Instagram, and I couldn’t believe this incredibly fit boy would even remember me, let alone, like, actively want to message me.” He pauses, wondering if he should continue. Charlie has always been a person who considers his words carefully; he’s not entirely sure if it’s really him, or a hangover from a time when he was terrified about how he was perceived — about being perceived at all, really. When he’s around Nick, though, he feels compelled to speak his mind. “I was sure I’d tricked you into thinking I was someone I’m not.”

“Is that why you never suggested we meet up?” Nick asks. There’s no accusation in his tone, just open curiosity as he tilts his body towards Charlie on the sofa and catches his hand, flipping it over so he’s massaging circles into his palm with the pad of his thumb. 

The action nearly melts Charlie’s whole arm. Regardless, he knows this is a conversation they need to have. “Mostly. You never suggested it either, though.” 

Nick looks down, clearing his throat. “I know. I did want to, I promise, but I- I was kind of worried about the same thing, I suppose. I didn’t want you to be… disappointed. In me.”

The thought that Charlie could ever be disappointed in the man sitting next to him, still tracing strange patterns into his hand, is almost laughable. Still, he knows better than to try and explain away someone’s insecurities. “I think we’ve both been a bit silly, then,” he says quietly. 

Nick looks back at him and smiles. “We have, haven’t we?” 

“We could have been doing this all year,” Charlie teases. 

Nick shuffles his arm so it’s around Charlie properly, pulling him closer. “I suppose we’ll just have to make up for lost time, then,” he says lightly.  

There’s a question in Nick’s eyes — a soft, unspoken expression of desire — that Charlie answers by kneeling up on the sofa and twisting so he can swing a leg over him, seating himself soundly in his lap. “I guess we will,” he says, grinning.

Nick makes a noise half-way between surprise and delight, planting his hands on Charlie’s waist and smoothing his thumbs over the exposed skin between the bottom of his T-shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He drags his eyes up and down Charlie’s body like he’s taking in the moment; Charlie can feel the weight of them as they move up back over the curve of his throat, resting briefly on his lips before meeting his gaze again.

“For the avoidance of any doubt,” Charlie continues, “you have definitely not disappointed me. I don’t think there was ever a chance of that.” 

“You could never disappoint me, either. I like flirty Charlie, clearly. But I like this Charlie, too.” Nick squeezes his hip to emphasise the point. “I like him so, so much.” 

“Yeah?” Charlie breathes. He can’t get over the honesty in Nick’s expression, and the depth of sincerity threaded through each word that falls from his mouth. Charlie has been sweet-talked before; this isn’t that. This feels satiating and satisfying in a way that the saccharine praises of others have not — like they are words built to stand the test of time.  

“Even if you’d just come to the match and spoken to me for five minutes about, like, what you had for breakfast, I wouldn’t have been disappointed.” Nick pauses, considering. “This is obviously better, though.” 

Charlie laughs with delight. He’s never really felt anticipation like this; it’s throbbing in his gut with such an intensity that he feels it in his hands, hot and electric as he rests them on Nick’s chest. Suddenly, he feels compelled to match Nick’s words of reassurance: not in any attempt at quid pro quo, but because they have been bubbling, ready and waiting under the surface, ever since he watched Nick run over to him at the field.

“Well, I like flirty Nick, too. And rugby captain Nick, and future teacher Nick, and hot, sweet, awkward-sod Nick,” Charlie extols, tapping each of his fingers on Nick’s chest one by one as he counts off the list.  As he sees Nick pinken under the praise, he remembers the urge that had stuck him earlier and loops a hand inside the collar of Nick’s rugby shirt, knuckles grazing heat-flared skin. 

Nick looks up at him like he’s staring into the sun. “Charlie?” he breathes, just on the right side of desperate. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m not as sweet as I look.” 

They’re on each other from one second to the next, Charlie yanking Nick forward by the collar to bring their lips together again. The next few moments unfurl easily in the parting of their mouths, the drag of Nick’s tongue on his, and the slow, electric feeling that burns its way through his nervous system, phosphorus sparks crackling behind his eyes as touch gives way to energy. He wriggles his fingers under Nick’s jersey in question and Nick hums, nodding his assent and leaning his head back on the sofa to watch him through hooded eyes. Charlie pushes it up, his hands grazing across skin, tugging it up and over his head to throw it somewhere to the depths of the room behind him.

Charlie stops, then, shuffling himself back in Nick’s lap a little so he can get a good look at him. Nick lets him, moving his arms up and behind himself to grip the spine of the sofa. “You like being looked at,” Charlie says. It’s not a question; he can tell by the way he puts himself readily on display, and the way his hands tighten on the backrest, flexing the muscles in his arms as he watches Charlie watch him. 

“When it’s you doing it,” Nick admits, and Charlie files this knowledge away in the new and precious part of himself that is just for Nick. The sun is lower in the sky now, throwing itself through the blinds to cut shafts of light across the room. One falls across them both, conjoined as they are on the sofa, and everything it touches comes away golden, leaving lines of light and shadow on their skin. Following an impulse, Charlie runs his hand down the inside of Nick’s arm, over the softer skin and coarse hair of his armpit, then lightly over a nipple. Nick’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he arches under the touch, adjusting himself to spread his legs wider and sink himself further down into the cushions. The motion shifts Charlie in Nick’s lap, and he can feel him, hard and hot, pressing into the back of his thigh. 

“You like being touched, too,” Charlie breathes, going for teasing but tone falling somewhere closer to fascination. His own erection is pressing a little uncomfortably into the zipper of his jeans, but he can’t help but want to take his time. Normally, by now, in his respectable collection of one-night stands and short-lived relationships, they’d be hurtling towards the finish line, driven by expectations set and roles predetermined. Here, with Nick, though, it feels like anything could happen; the energy between them is viscous in its intensity, and Charlie can’t help but want to find out how far it can stretch. 

“I do,” Nick gasps out as Charlie thumbs over his nipple again, his hands releasing their grip on the sofa to come down and rest on Charlie’s thighs. Charlie hums, reflexively reaching down and unfastening the top button of his jeans to relieve some pressure. Nick follows the movement with dark, liquid eyes, his grip tightening to pull Charlie closer on his lap. 

Something creaks nearby — a floorboard underfoot, or a door opening — and they both still and wait, quick-breathed, to see if they’ll be interrupted. Another comes, then the sound of distant voices, and Charlie breathes a sigh of relief when he realises the noise is coming from the next house over. He looks at Nick, who scrunches up his eyes in amusement. “Close call,” he whispers, his hand hot on Charlie’s thigh whilst his thumb rubs absentmindedly on the inside seam of his jeans. 

Charlie sighs. “We probably shouldn’t do this in the living room.” 

Nick nods, taking a deep, steading breath, and reaches down to adjust himself in his joggers. “Probably not,” he agrees. He grins up at Charlie. “Take me upstairs?”

Charlie laughs, climbing off Nick’s lap and holding his hand out. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Nick lets Charlie pull him up and into his body. They stand there like that for a moment, pressed together in the middle of the living room. Nick moves his head down towards him, Charlie tilting his face up expectancy, and stops just before they make contact. “Race you?” he whispers into the space between their mouths.

With that, he’s off. Charlie takes about half a second to register what’s happening and then squawks in protest, setting off through the door close on Nick’s heels. They thunder up the stairs, giggling. As they go, Charlie realises with a start that Nick’s shirt is still strewn somewhere in the recesses of the living room. Fuck it, he thinks. He’ll deal with the teasing in the morning; Nick is worth it. 

When they reach the top landing, Nick comes to a sudden stop. Charlie crashes into the back of him and has to wrap an arm around his middle to steady them both. Nick looks back at him over his own shoulder. “I’ve just realised that I don’t actually know where I’m going.” 

Charlie snorts and presses his face into the back of Nick’s neck, trying to form a cohesive thought. “This one’s mine,” he says eventually, pulling him along to his room. He throws open the door, doing a quick stock-check to make sure it is at least passably tidy. His flatmates have, predictably, left the window wide open after their sojourn on the roof, and there are a few stray cans still littering his windowsill. Usually it’s something that he would send a semi-stern message into the group chat about; today, though, he’s grateful for the light breeze it provides in the otherwise stuffy room. In the distance, a low haze of early-evening heat hangs over the Manchester skyline. 

He turns around to see Nick standing in the doorway, taking in the posters on his walls and the drum kit shoved into the corner with a pleased expression on his face. “This looks exactly like I imagined.” 

Charlie sits down on the edge of the bed and leans his weight back on his hands. “You've spent a long time imagining the inside of my room, then?”

“Amongst other things.” Nick walks over to the bed, standing in between Charlie’s legs. He points to the wall behind the bed, where Charlie’s collection of polaroids is on proud display. “You'll need to tell me about all those photos.”

Charlie reaches up and puts a hand on Nick’s abdomen, running his thumb over the coarse hair below his belly button. Nick is broad, and when he stands in front of Charlie like this he fills his whole vision. The skin of his torso is slightly paler than the rest of him, and Charlie likes the contrast his own hand sets against it. When he eventually speaks, his voice is rougher than he expected. “If it's all the same to you, I'll tell you tomorrow.”

Nick smiles down at him and puts his hand in Charlie’s hair. “Tomorrow,” he agrees, the word vibrating somewhere in Charlie’s belly. They look at each other, and before Charlie can think too much about it he reaches down and pulls his shirt up over his head, casting it aside and shuffling back on the bed to lie back on his elbows. He feels that familiar frisson of anxiety at being exposed under new eyes, but it’s quickly eclipsed when Nick’s mouth falls open, his eyes roaming over Charlie as he lies there with his jeans undone and hair a mess. His expression is unmistakable: desire, molten hot and stoking Charlie’s own like rum on fire. 

Nick kneels on the bed and moves over him before he even seems to realise he’s doing it. “I’m so glad I came to that party,” he says, running his hands up Charlie’s torso. “You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” Charlie throws his arms up above his head and Nick follows the line of them up until they’re palm to palm, interlocking their fingers as he bends down to kiss him again. “That top you were wearing today,” he says, breaking away from the kiss to breathe into Charlie’s ear as he lets go of his hand and reaches down to rub at the skin just above Charlie’s waistband. “This little bit of skin, right here. I nearly fell over when I saw you.”

Charlie opens his mouth to make some throwaway comment about rugby shorts when Nick’s fingers dip down to where his jeans are unbuttoned, grazing the soft skin there. “Fucking hell,” he bites out, his hips jerking up. “Nick. Take my jeans off?” 

“Yeah, OK,” Nick breathes, shuffling back and curling his fingers into Charlie’s waistband. “You sure?”

Charlie nods and tilts his pelvis up to help him along. “Please.”

Nick quickly gets to work, frowning a little when they don’t come easily. “These jeans,” he mutters as he struggles to work them down over Charlie’s hips. “I would hate them if they didn’t look so good on you.”

“I manage to undress myself just fine every day, thank you,” Charlie points out. 

“I don’t know how,” Nick complains, getting stuck again at Charlie’s calves. He looks back up at Charlie, distressed. “I think they’re broken.”

Charlie laughs and bats his hands away, rolling off the bed and standing by the side to shimmy them off. He has to give, admittedly, quite a hard tug to get them off past his left foot as he hops on his right. “Fuck, these are kind of stuck.”

“I told you!” 

“Yeah, yeah. We can’t all walk around wearing athleisure.” Charlie, finally, dispenses with the jeans, turning back round to the bed wearing only his boxers. Nick has taken the opportunity to lie himself back against the pillows, one arm thrown up above his head. He’d almost look casual, if it weren’t for the obvious line of his cock in his joggers, and the flush and slight sheen of sweat that made itself at home across his chest. 

“Speaking of,” Nick replies, looking down at himself. “Can I take these off?” 

“I think I’ll do that, actually” Charlie says matter-of-factly, climbing back onto the bed on his knees. 

Nick grins, gesturing his hand out as if to say be my guest. Charlie rolls his eyes, trying not to smile, and Nick laughs. It’s strange; Charlie’s laughed during sex before — things get messy, and awkward, and amusing, at times — but he’s never felt this ease, this trust that they can both dance, together, between tension and relief as easily as if they were two sides of the same coin. 

The coin flips as Charlie curls his fingers in the waistband of Nick’s joggers, looking up at him as he pulls them down an inch. “These too?” he whispers as he grazes the waistband of his boxers. 

Nick swallows and nods, reaching down to help Charlie work them down his legs. Charlie tosses them over the side of the bed somewhere, then, after a moment's hesitation, gathers up his duvet from where they have pushed it up to the far corner of the bed and dumps that over the side too. He looks down at Nick — at the motion of his abdomen as he breathes, at his cock standing up, hard, against it, at his legs splayed out on the bed — and sighs in contentment as he runs his hands up the coarse hair of his thighs, feeling the muscles twitch. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathes, because he is, and they are both long past playing it cool. 

Nick blushes again, and Charlie is delighted to see just how far down the colour spreads. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling Charlie down on top of him. 

Charlie goes easily, conducted by their own private gravity, pressing himself down on top of Nick so that they are chest to chest. He can feel their stomachs moving in tandem with shared breath, a mirrored push-pull of desire that he can feel coalesce in the space between their mouths. Their legs are tangled on the bed, and Charlie feels Nick drag a lazy heel up the back of his calf as he presses his palm into the small of Charlie’s back. This, somehow, is what does him in; they are about as close as it’s physically possible to be, but Charlie wants to be closer still. He ducks his head down and presses his open mouth to Nick’s neck, breathing him in. 

“Will you fuck me?” he whispers into the skin there. 

He feels Nick’s fingers flex on his back, his stomach pulsing on a deep inhalation. “Yeah?” he breathes. “You want me to?” 

Charlie pulls his head back so he can look him in the face. “I do. Only if you would like to, I mean. No pressure.” 

Nick’s already nodding, though. “Yeah. I mean, that sounds- Yes, please.” 

Charlie fights to keep the smile off his face at Nick’s obvious enthusiasm. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Do you want to?” 

Nick blushes bright red. “Shut up,” he complains, laughing. “You try having the hottest person you’ve ever seen lie on top of you and ask you to fuck them, then see how you react.”

Charlie smirks, pushing himself up on his arms and looking down the line of Nick’s body again. “We can find out next time, I suppose.” 

Nick grins and grabs Charlie’s hips, rolling them over so he’s bracing himself over him. “God, I really like you. Have I said that already?” 

“You might have mentioned it.” Charlie throws his arm around Nick’s neck and pulls him down into a kiss. “I like you too, by the way,” he murmurs between kisses, and Nick slips his hand between Charlie’s back and the bed to hold him closer. Before they can get too carried away again, he pushes Nick back with a gentle hand. “I’ll just get the stuff.” 

Nick nods and shuffles back to give him some room. Charlie leans over and opens the drawer of his bedside table, finding the lube and tossing it onto the bed. He reaches back in and scrabbles his hand around, searching for the reliable crinkle of foil under his finger tips. “Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“I’m out of condoms, do you have one?” 

Nick’s face lights up. “I do, actually! It’s in my bag,” he goes to get up, before quickly falling back down on the bed with a defeated thud, leaning up against the headboard. “In my bag, which is-”

“On the bus,” Charlie finishes for him, throwing his hands up. “Is this bus homophobic? Be honest.” 

“I’m starting to think it might be,” Nick admits, grinning back at him. He holds a hand out. “Come on, there’s plenty of other things we can do.” 

“I suppose so,” Charlie sighs, pretending to be put out. He’s a little disappointed, but really, any one of the ideas he can see circling Nick’s eyes suits him perfectly. Crawling back over  the bed, he straddles Nick again, running his hands up his arms before settling them on the back of his neck. He bends down and presses a kiss to the curve of his shoulder, up his neck and to the line of his jaw. “Show me them?” he whispers in his ear. 

Nick’s hips buck up and he whines, pulling Charlie’s hips down to meet his own. “You are going to be the death of me, Charlie,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You are absolutely going to be the death of me.” 

Charlie sighs at the contact, grazing his teeth against Nick’s ear before nosing along the length of his cheekbone. He still has his boxers on; they breathe into each other's mouths for a second as their cocks rub together through the fabric. Dropping his gaze downwards, he can’t help but groan at the sight: Nick’s hands, tight on his waist; the length of his cock pushing up next to Charlie’s own as his stomach flexes; and the damp patch between them from their shared arousal. When he glances up again, he sees Nick is looking down too, mouth parted and eyes dark as he helps Charlie grind them together with a steady, targeted grip. 

There’s much less talking now, the air instead filled with the sounds of friction and heavy breath. They kiss for a little while longer, open-mouthed and desperate. Charlie moves his hands all over Nick’s torso, drifting them downwards to press his thumbs into the soft flesh of his abdomen as he ruts his hips forward. Just as Nick’s fingers are curling into the waistband of his boxers, their movements becoming more frantic, Charlie suddenly has an idea. “Nina!” he says brightly, pulling his head back. 

Nick frowns at him, hands stopping their exploration. “...Um, it’s Nick?” 

Charlie laughs and slaps him lightly on the chest. “No, sorry, oh my God. My housemate. She’ll have condoms in her room.” 

“Oh,” the corner of Nick’s mouth pulls up in a pleased little smile. “And she won’t mind?” 

Charlie smirks, thinking of hushed knocks at two am and Nina’s not-so-apologetic face appearing whenever he deigns to crack open his door, her latest conquest hovering awkwardly behind her. “She owes me one.” A few, actually. “Be right back.”

He pushes himself up and off the bed, heading for the door. At the last moment, he thinks the better of waltzing through the flat completely nude and picks the first thing he can find off the floor. It happens to be Nick’s joggers, and after he pulls them on, folding over the waistband so they actually stay up, he looks up to find Nick staring at him with an expression that verges on dazed. “Alright over there?” 

Nick blushes but steadily meets Charlie’s gaze. “Honestly, I’m trying to think of something clever to say, but you just look really good wearing my clothes.” 

“Careful, I might make a habit of it.” 

Nick leans back on his elbows, looking him up and down again. “Please do.” 

Charlie looks at Nick — at the bulk of him stretched out on the bed, naked and unashamed as he waits patiently for Charlie to come back to him — and thinks, I am absolutely ruined for anyone else. Somehow, the thought doesn't scare him; probably because Nick is looking back at him like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll just be a second.” 

“Charlie, I honestly don’t think I would leave if you told me the house was on fire,” Nick replies without an ounce of artifice. 

Charlie laughs and darts across the hall, knocking lightly on Nina’s door before he enters, just in case. There’s no reply, of course; she’ll be four pints deep with the rest of them by now. Pushing the door open, he picks his way over the piles of clothes on the floor — he assumes left over from her attempts to pick an outfit for tonight — and drops to his knees by her bedside table. Please, please, please, Nina, he thinks as he rifles through the drawer, I’ll never complain about turmeric stains in the communal tupperware again. 

When he finds the box stashed at the back, he’s glad that no-one’s around to hear the honest to god cheer he lets out. He picks one out, then, after a moment's consideration, a second. Just in case. He retraces his steps and opens his bedroom door with a flourish, holding them above his head. “Tadaa.” 

Nick laughs and hides his face in his hands. “For fucks sake.” 

“You love it.” Charlie grins and throws them on the bed, next to the lube, then kneels so he’s facing Nick. 

Nick tilts his head. “How do you want me?” he asks, voice soft. 

“Should I not be asking you that?”

Nick shakes his head, holding his hand out. “I want you to tell me what you like.” 

“Alright,” Charlie whispers, taking it and letting Nick pull him down so they are lying on their sides, facing each other. “I suppose I like it when people take their time with prep. So it’s not just a means to an end, you know. And… I like controlling the pace. At least at first.” 

Nick nods and reaches over to run a finger over Charlie’s collarbone. “Of course, and if you change your mind, or decide that’s all you want, that’s fine too. I’m not, like, expecting anything. I’ll enjoy anything we do.” 

Charlie smiles. “Noted. Same for you, obviously. What do you like? Is this what… I mean, I don’t want this to all be about me.”

Nick kisses him once, quick. “Trust me, this is working for me.”

“Still, I want to hear it.” 

Nick blushes. “Okay… I like when people are, um, vocal. Not- you know, I don’t mean hamming it up. I just like knowing that someone is enjoying what I’m doing.” 

“Positive feedback, then?” Charlie asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Something like that,” Nick grins. 

“I think I can manage that.” Charlie picks up the lube from where it’s lying on the bed between them and puts it in Nick’s hand, a clear statement of intent. 

The coin flips again with the click of the cap opening. They both look at each other and Charlie breathes hard, moving closer and throwing a leg over Nick’s. 

Nick squeezes some out and warms it between his palms, reaching down to grasp Charlie’s cock, stroking him back to full hardness after he had waned slightly on his excursion to Nina’s room. Charlie gasps and grabs his shoulder, letting his forehead fall down against it when Nick moves his hips forward and takes both of them in hand — hot, slick skin moving together in his palm. Nick groans and Charlie feels his other hand on his arse, hauling him over so he’s lying above him, legs splayed out to each side. He bites at Nick’s neck as Nick reaches his hand out, feeling for the lube again, then lets go of their cocks to bring his hands together behind Charlie’s back, squeezing more out onto his fingers. The sound of the bottle depressing where he can't see it lights up something pavlovian in Charlie, and he grinds his hips down just to hear Nick gasp. 

Nick puts a hand on his hip again and looks him straight in the eye. “Can I touch you now?” he asks, voice wrecked. 

“Please,” Charlie practically begs, and Nick’s eyes darken as he hauls him further up his body and reaches down between them to run a finger across his hole. Charlie moans and tilts his hips down into it as Nick presses on his rim and slips inside. 

“Jesus, Charlie,” Nick grits out, working his finger further in. “You look incredible like this.” Charlie braces his hands on Nick’s shoulders and hums his approval. He can feel Nick’s cock, hard and leaking on the back of his thigh as he thrusts his finger up, Charlie spreading his legs to get him deeper.  

“More,” he gasps, because it’s not enough. Nick does as he’s told, adding a second finger, his brows furrowed in concentration as he searches out what he’s looking for. Charlie straightens up so he’s kneeling properly, pivots his hips to help with the angle and — there. He moans and grasps his own thighs and grinds down to feel it again, throwing his head back. When he opens his eyes, Nick is looking up at him with his lips parted, eyes wide as he drags his gaze down Charlie’s body to where he’s working him open. 

They meet eyes again, and for a while there is just heavy breath and the faint schlick of Charlie fucking himself down onto Nick’s fingers. Then, Charlie gasps at a particularly well aimed thrust and Nick surges up to kiss him at the base of his throat, then his lips as Charlie tilts his head down to meet him, putting his other hand at the base of his back as pushes Charlie backwards to lie flat, fingers slipping out as he kneels up on the bed. “This okay?” he asks.

“So okay. Give me another, I can take another.” 

Nick’s nodding and moving his head down before Charlie’s even finished talking, the bed dipping under him as he presses himself into Charlie’s side and captures his bottom lip between his own. They kiss frantically as Nick works three fingers inside him; they’re deep, and Nick’s fingers are big, and Charlie can feel the stretch when they flare out towards the knuckle. He breaks away from the kiss to moan into Nick’s shoulder as he rubs across his prostate in firm strokes, precum leaking out onto his stomach. “Oh my god.”

“Good?” Nick whispers straight into his ear. 

“Really good. Really fucking good. Harder, please.” 

Nick makes a noise in the back of his throat and works his fingers in faster. “Charlie, god, you feel amazing. Can’t wait to fuck you.” 

“Can’t wait for you to fuck me,” Charlie echoes, reaching up to grasp Nick’s bicep so he can feel it flex as Nick works his fingers in and out. Nick grips the back of his neck with his other hand and kisses him again. Charlie pulls at him so he’s lying between his legs, arm somewhat trapped between them, and Nick laughs into his mouth because it’s a terrible angle, really, but Charlie is too turned on to care; he wants Nick’s weight on top of him and his breath in his mouth and his heart in his hands. The urge would be overwhelming if Nick wasn’t matching his intensity, but he is; each kiss is bruising, and, between them all, he’s sighing out Charlie’s name.

Charlie puts his hand on Nick’s face and runs a thumb across his lower lip. “Okay,” he whispers. “I’m ready.” 

“You sure?”

“Very.” 

Nick pulls his fingers out and grasps Charlie’s thigh, thumb rubbing at the crease where it meets his groin. “How do you want to do this?”

Charlie thinks about it for a moment, a little hypnotised by the sight of Nick above him, and the radiating heat of his body. He feels an overwhelming urge to be touching as much of him as possible. “Like this, I think,” he says, turning onto his side. “Want you close.”

“Fuck, yeah, okay,” Nick breathes, quickly reaching over and tearing open the condom, rolling it on as Charlie unashamedly stares. Sliding in behind Charlie, he winds an arm beneath him to hold him across his chest, then kisses him on the side of the neck and hooks his chin on his shoulder. Charlie feels his sharp exhalation and the motion of his hands as he gives himself a few strokes, running his cock over the crease of Charlie's arse. They both gasp as the head catches on Charlie’s rim, his hand flying back to grab Nick’s arm.

“Now, now, I want you inside me.” Charlie urges, hitching a leg up on the bed to improve the angle as he feels Nick line himself up. He pushes in slowly, swearing under his breath and rubbing soothing circles on Charlie’s hip as he goes, Charlie breathing through the stretch until they are fully seated together. Almost every part of them is touching. He can feel Nick’s stomach at the base of his back and his broad thighs pressing up against the backs of his own; when he sighs and tightens down reflexively at the sensation, the hand on his hip flexes as Nick throbs inside him. 

“You good?” Nick whispers, sounding ever so slightly strained. 

“I’m perfect.” He circles his hips down and Nick makes a low, punched out sound. He’s still not moving, his hand running up and down Charlie’s side as he waits for permission, breathing hard. Charlie has the distinct feeling that he would wait as long as he asked him to. Still, that kind of thing involves more discussion, so he files the thought away for later. “You can move,” he breathes, grinding his hips back again. 

Nick moves, and it’s immediately gorgeous, and overwhelming in the best way. He goes slowly at first, then faster as Charlie begins to roll his hips back to meet him, moving the hand not wrapped around Charlie’s chest to the back of his thigh to give himself leverage. Charlie puts one hand on Nick’s arm and the other up against the headboard to stop them both driving up the bed. There’s the undeniably erotic sound of skin meeting skin, sweat building between them, and both of them gasping out fragments of sentences that Charlie would be embarrassed to ever repeat outside of this self-perpetuating loop of pleasure. 

Eventually, Charlie feels a tightening in his gut, his base desire for release winning out over the temptation to try and make this last forever. “Nick,” he says, desperate.

“What do you need, baby?” 

Baby baby baby. “Touch me,” Charlie begs. 

Nick wraps his hand around him, moving it in a similar rhythm to his hips. “Like this?” he whispers, the words hot across Charlie’s ear. 

Charlie reaches down and puts his hand over Nick’s. “Just a little more- oh fuck, yeah, like that.” 

Nick groans and grinds forward at Charlie’s words, the motion pushing Charlie through both their hands. Charlie gasps with the pleasure of it. “You feel so fucking good, Charlie,” Nick pants against him; he loves the way his name sounds in Nick’s mouth like this — wondrous and laden with desire as his breath moves over the back of his neck. 

They move like that for a while, until eventually Nick has to let go of Charlie’s cock to hold his hip again, fucking up into him at a faster pace as Charlie urges him on. Charlie steadies himself on the bed with one hand and uses the other to continue getting himself off. He pushes back, trying to get Nick deeper. “Oh fuck, I’m close. Keep going.”

Nick’s chest shudders behind him. “Me too. Come for me, baby, want to hear it. Please.”

In the end, that’s what does it: Nick’s voice, low and direct in his ear as he grinds forward again, and Charlie twisting his own hand over the head of his cock as he pulses out over the bedsheets, his leg twitching and his body tightening in waves as he makes a low and guttural sound he’s never heard himself make before.

“Oh fuck. Charlie-” With that, Nick's grip tightens as he stutters his hips forward and comes. Charlie reaches back and threads his fingers through his hair as he rides it out with his face buried in the bend of Charlie’s neck, moans vibrating out into his skin. 

They come to a slow stop, breathing in tandem. Nick’s fingers flex on his chest and he brushes his lips across the line of his shoulder again, before having the good sense to reach down and hold the base of the condom as he pulls out. Charlie gasps slightly at the departure, and Nick presses a soothing kiss to the back of his neck before leaning back and — Charlie hopes — depositing it in the bin next to his bed. He’s back before Charlie has a chance to know he’s gone, touching lightly on his hip so Charlie rolls over, still secured in the crook of his arm. 

“Hi,” he says, resting his hand on Charlie’s stomach. 

Charlie smiles, reaching up to brush Nick’s sweat-darkened hair from his forehead. “Hello.” 

“That was…”

“Yeah.” 

They grin at each other stupidly, and Charlie sees Nick wince slightly as he adjusts his arm under Charlie’s back. He frowns. “You OK?”

Nick blushes. “I’ve honestly never been better. My arm is just slightly dead.”

Charlie sits bolt upright. “Nick! You should’ve said something.”

Nick shakes his arm out, laughing. “I literally only just noticed it now.” He raises his eyebrows. “You’re very distracting.”

Charlie tuts and reaches down to help massage some of the feeling back in. “You’re impossible. Imagine I had to take you to A&E because your arm fell off.”

Nick puts on a plaintive voice. “Sorry doctor, I was too busy having my world rocked.”

“Nope. That’s it, I officially retract my orgasm.” Charlie pretends to start climbing off the bed.

“Nooo,” Nick whines, pulling him back. “Look, it’s all better.” He tightens his arms around Charlie to prove his point.

Charlie hums, falling easily into the contact. “If you promise.”

“I promise.” 

Reality slowly filters back in. It’s not unpleasant: the sound of distant traffic and the shouts of groups of drunk students meandering down the streets filters through the window, and the distant, woodsy smell of a barbeque comes in with the breeze. The feeling gradually returns to Nick’s arm, and they both chug from the bottle of water on Charlie’s bedside table before lying back on the bed, Charlie resting his head on Nick’s chest. Nick smells like clean sweat and sex, and Charlie feels him bury his face in his hair and press a kiss to the crown of his head, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over his shoulder. It’s dusk outside now — slow and endless as it tends to be in the summertime — and although the sun is gone, the room is still warm. They’ve left the duvet off the bed and, below him, the heat is radiating off Nick. 

“I’m going to go get us some more water,” Charlie says eventually, knowing if he doesn’t move soon he could easily stay like this all night, and beyond, until the days and nights begin to roll into each other. He sighs and pushes himself up to sit. 

Nick pouts and runs a hand up his arm. “I can go.”

Charlie shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry, you don’t know where anything is. Also I’m pretty sure they’re not back yet, but I’m not letting you run into my flatmates for the first time without backup.”

Nick snorts. “Are they really that bad?”

“They’re great. They just all take a very keen interest in my love life.”

“Well, me too, I suppose,” Nick teases. 

Charlie laughs and leans across to give him a brief kiss. “You’re allowed.” 

Nick smiles and looks away for a moment before looking back at Charlie. “Yeah?” 

Charlie nods vigorously. They’ve not discussed it yet, but Charlie knows implicitly that this is the start of something rather than the end. “Yeah.” 

Nick leans over and kisses him again. It’s as soft and sweet as their very first — only a few hours ago, somehow — and Charlie lays a hand on his chest just to feel his heart beat with it. It’s undemanding, both of them just enjoying it for what it is, and there’s a satiating ache that thrums through Charlie’s whole body, every inch of his skin alive with the ghost of Nick’s touch. Eventually, he pats Nick firmly and pulls back. “Water,” he reminds him. 

Nick briefly squeezes him tighter before letting go. “Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll be here.”

Charlie raises his eyebrows. “You better be.” He rolls off the bed and tugs on Nick’s joggers again, Nick lying on the bed and unashamedly watching him at it. 

Grabbing his bottle and a passably clean glass from the bedside table, he walks through to the bathroom and fills them up with cold water from the sink. Catching sight of himself with the mirror, he's almost surprised to see how completely relaxed he looks — eyes heavy and hair beyond saving. There are love bites littered across his chest, and even one on the back of his neck where Nick had tried in vain to bury his cries. He presses his finger into it and smiles, making a mental note to tease Nick about it later. 

He takes the opportunity to use the bathroom, then, water replenished, walks back into his room. Nick is standing next to the bed fluffing the pillows, now dressed in his boxers. In Charlie’s absence, he has fixed the sheet where they had somehow managed to drag it off the corner of the mattress, and rescued the duvet from the floor to smooth it back over the bed. Charlie leans against the doorframe and watches for a moment, some unnamed feeling — softer than lust and lovelier than infatuation — unfurling in his chest. 

Nick looks up when he senses Charlie’s presence and smiles, giving the pillow a final smack. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Charlie says pointedly, pushing himself off the door and walking over to him, setting the water down on his way. “Are you making my bed?” 

“Yeah?” Nick says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Sorry, um, I didn’t know where you kept your clean sheets, but I thought this would do for now. Should I not have? I can-” 

Charlie puts his hands on Nick’s face to stop his rambling. “Where did you even come from?” he asks, marvelling at everything that had to align to lead him to finding this boy in the grubby kitchen of a Manchester student house, of all places — a veritable diamond in the rough. 

Nick pretends to think about it for a moment. “Well, Leeds, I suppose.” 

Charlie shakes his head, smiling. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Nick’s face softens as he takes in Charlie’s expression, his hand moving up to cover one of Charlie’s own. “I know.” He turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “I know exactly what you meant.”

+

Then

@nick_nzzzz
So

@charlie_spr1
?
yes?

@nick_nzzzz
We just got our schedule for the summer season 
Turns out we’ve got a match in manc soon 

@charlie_spr1
So you’ll be here??

@nick_nzzzz
Yes!
Absolutely no pressure 
But if you’re free 
I would love it if you came to the match?

@charlie_spr1
I’m free
I’ll be there

@nick_nzzzz
I’ve not even told you the date yet!

@charlie_spr1
…
let’s try that again
i’ll see if i can pencil you in xxx

@nick_nzzzz
:-)
I’m really, really looking forward to seeing you, Charlie

@charlie_spr1
same
it’s been a long time coming

Chapter Text

Now

They hide in Charlie’s bedroom for the rest of the evening. At one point, Charlie sneaks downstairs to make them both a sandwich and pour them each a measure of the cheap half-finished bottle of Sauvignon Blanc sitting in the door of the fridge. Then, they take their spoils out onto the roof, enjoying the dissipating heat of the summer night as they chat aimlessly and watch people stagger home on the street below. It’s easy, and fun, and every time they catch eyes Nick smiles so widely that Charlie feels right down to his toes. Neither of them makes any mention of the fact Nick has a train back to Leeds booked in the morning, but Charlie feels strangely at ease with the distance; an hour on the train is nothing if he gets to feel like this at least some of the time. 

When they go back inside, Nick eases his own joggers off Charlie’s hips and sucks him off with such a single minded focus that when Charlie comes, he throws his arm up and hits his hand off the headboard with enough force to bruise. He barely feels it over the high-pitched buzzing of his arousal, so when Nick takes his arm and presses a remorseful kiss to the area he waves him off, tugs him up the bed, and they both watch with intense eyes as Charlie pulls him off whilst muttering filth in his ear. 

After, they take turns to shower off in the tiny bathroom on the landing; Nick briefly suggests showering together, a hopeful smile on his face, but Charlie quickly puts a kibosh on that when he drags him out of the room to show him the coffin-sized shower, various hair products taking up a majority of the floorspace. He’s cursing his and his flatmates relentless pursuit of cheap rent — what he wouldn’t give to get Nick alone in a walk-in shower, or some ornate clawfoot bath — but it’s almost worth it when he gets to see him walk back into his room with a borrowed towel slung low on his waist, dropping it into the laundry basket and pulling on his boxers like they do this all the time. 

They put something mindless on Netflix, talking over it as they lie on the bed. It’s too hot to cuddle up, really — the duvet has long since been relegated back to the floor, and the window remains wide open to let the air circulate — but Charlie keeps his hand on Nick’s arm, and Nick draws random patterns on his knee as they meander their way through season two of Friends. 

Charlie’s flatmates get back just past midnight. Nick wiggles his eyebrows at him as they cause a ruckus in the kitchen and clatter their way up the stairs to their respective rooms. Tom sends a message into the group chat — does anyone else hear voices (multiple) in charlie’s room?? — and they all send side-eye emojis until Charlie replies with a single middle-finger, hearing Tom’s deep belly laugh echo through the wall. 

“Busted,” Nick smirks. 

Charlie laughs and throws his phone back down the bed. “He probably had his ear pressed to the wall.” 

Nick turns towards him and puts his hand on Charlie’s belly, thumb kneading the skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. “I’d say let's give him a show, but I think you might have actually worn me out.” 

Charlie smiles down at him. “It’s been a big day.” 

“It has,” Nick agrees. Then, more quietly: “one of my favourite days ever, actually.” 

Charlie looks up at the ceiling for a moment, failing to contain the broad smile breaking out across his face. “Mine too.” 

They lapse into comfortable silence, laid back on the pillows as Charlie runs a hand through Nick’s hair. He feels warmed to the bone, sun-laden and light with the hypnotic rhythm of Nick’s breathing next to him. It would be so easy to allow them both to drift into sleep without addressing the elephant in the room. Preferable, even: the day has been a jewel-toned, perfect thing — so much so, in fact, that in years gone by Charlie might have wondered if he deserved it at all — and he’s hesitant to mar it with a question as loaded as what now? Charlie has spent far too long denying himself good things, though. Lately, he’s been trying to reach out and grab them with both hands. 

Nick is a good thing; it’s a fact that he knows deep in his marrow. 

That being said, it doesn’t make the topic any easier to broach. “So,” Charlie starts, clearing his throat. “You’re going back to Leeds tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Nick looks away for a moment, clearly holding something back.

“You OK?” Charlie asks, frowning. For the first time since the pitch, he feels a tendril of anxiety in his gut. 

“I-” Nick hesitates, pushing himself up on the bed so that they are facing each other. “There’s something I should tell you.” 

Charlie’s stomach sinks. “What is it?” he asks, shrinking back. His guard goes up with an almost comical speed — a natural instinct, born from previous disappointments. 

Nick notices the change in his demeanour immediately. “Fuck, no, no, nothing bad. At least, I don’t think so?” 

“Right,” Charlie says, relaxing a fraction. No secret partner in Leeds, then. “Go on.” 

Nick runs a hand through his hair, still struggling to meet his eyes. “I- um. You know I’m graduating in June?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, I got into a PGCE-” 

“Nick! That’s amazing.” Charlie beams, despite himself. One of the things he remembers most from their wonderful, brief conversation at Varsity last year was the way Nick’s face lit up when he told him that he wanted to be a teacher. They’d spoken a little about Nick’s applications, since — Nick had been nervous before his interview, and Charlie had sent him a very long-winded voice note about why any course would be lucky to have him — but he hadn’t yet mentioned about hearing back from anywhere. 

“-in Manchester.” 

Charlie snaps his mouth shut, temporarily shocked. As the words register, he tries very, very hard not to actively cheer. So hard, in fact, that he forgets to say anything at all. 

“I’m not expecting anything,” Nick rushes to explain, clearly misinterpreting his silence. “It genuinely is a really good course, and I don’t want you to think- I mean, Manchester is a big place. You never have to see me again if you don’t want to. But, I think I’m going to accept it, and… Well, I’d love to take you out? If you would be into that?” 

Charlie bites his lip and tries not to be too visibly charmed by the fact that Nick is this shy about asking him out on a date when he was literally inside him a few hours ago. “I would definitely be into that.”

Nick blows out a breath of relief, the tension leaving his frame. “OK, good, because I was playing it cool. I really, really want to see you again. As soon as possible, really. We could- I mean, feel free to tell me to piss off, but can we see each other next weekend? I’ve got to finish out the season over the next few weeks, but we have a home match next Saturday, and I would love it if you could come? You could stay with me. Not like- You can have my bed and I’ll take the sofa, if you’d prefer that, but I’d love to have you there.” 

Charlie grins. “I can’t possibly relegate you to your own sofa.” 

“It’s fine, honestly! It’s pretty comfy, and-”

“Nick,” Charlie rolls his eyes and reaches out to put both hands on Nick’s lovely, anxious face to cut off his rambling. “Do you want either of us to sleep on the sofa?” he asks, pretty certain he knows the answer.

Nick blushes and gives him a small smile, reaching over to roll the hem of Charlie’s t-shirt between his fingers. “Not really, no.” 

“Well then, do you want to hear my suggestion?” 

“Alright.” Nick shuffles closer. “Hit me.” 

“I’ll come to Leeds next weekend and watch you win another rugby match, then we’ll go for drinks after with the team and actually stay there for more than thirty seconds-” Nick tilts his head to the side in a non-committal motion and Charlie flicks him gently on the ear. “We will. Then, we’ll go back to yours, where no one will be sleeping on the sofa, thank you very much, and in the morning, you can make me breakfast and show me the sights and sounds of Leeds. What do you think?”

“It’s a good suggestion,” Nick agrees, their earlier playfulness re-entering his tone. “I just have one addition to the itinerary, if that’s OK?” 

Charlie pretends to think about it. “I’ll allow it.” 

“Somewhere in there, I am taking you on a proper date.” 

Charlie’s toes curl with how giddy he feels, and he feels a blush work it’s way up his neck. It can’t be normal to feel like this after just one day, can it? Then again, Charlie thinks, it’s not just one day: it’s a year of precious, flickering hope, a year of Nick, on top of a lifetime of wishing and wondering if such a thing could ever exist for him. He’d always suspected it might be… difficult for him to find the ease and comfort he’d seen in some his friends relationships — Tao and Elle spring to mind, despite their rocky beginning — or at least, it felt like it might be something he would need to earn by sacrificing some of the spikier and more difficult to navigate parts of his defences. Nick seems to have sailed above them all, though, and landed slap-bang in the hidden part of him that yearns for softness. Charlie doesn’t even have it in him to tease him further: instead, he lets himself be wholly charmed by the quiet determination on Nick’s face. 

“OK,” he whispers. “You can take me on a date.” 

Nick’s eyes scan his face, seemingly heartened by his response. “Excellent, because when I move through, you should plan on being taken on many, many more dates.” 

Charlie reaches up to brush the hair back from his forehead, the gentle light of Nick’s sweetness inviting response. “Only if I can take you on just as many.” 

Nick blinks and his mouth parts, clearly taken aback. “Yeah, I- Of course. I would really like that.” 

Charlie’s heart breaks a little at Nick’s obvious surprise. How has this absolute gift of a man never been taken out on a date? He immediately resolves to rectify that, as much as his student budget will stretch; likely only to a bottle of mid-range wine, Sainsbury’s flowers, and a picnic in Alexandra Park, but he has the feeling that, with Nick, just about anything will be fun. 

They’ve inched closer still during their exchange. With a hum, Charlie puts a hand to Nick’s face and glides his thumb across his cheekbone. Nick leans into the contact, seemingly on instinct, eyes still wide and a little disbelieving. I’m going to woo you like you deserve, Charlie thinks. It’s only when Nick blushes and ducks his head down, murmuring a soft, “you already have,” somewhere near Charlie’s collar bone, that he realises he’s said it aloud.

In another life, he might be embarrassed by his accidental candour; in this one, as he tilts Nick’s face up to take in the shine of his eyes and the happy slant to his mouth, he’s just glad to see that his words have brought Nick some of that bubbling, light feeling that Nick has brought him. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, because he’s been wanting to, desperately, since the moment Nick said he was moving to Manchester.

Nick nods, and smiles, and brings his own hand to the back of Charlie’s neck to draw him in. They kiss sleepily, languidly, wholly until Charlie’s lips feel bruised and full. Until his soul does, too; the ripest peach cradled gently in Nick’s deft hands. Until the flight of Nick’s hand across his ribs is the only touch he’s ever known, and their soft sighs punctuated by the slight creak of the bed as they shift and meld together the only sound. Charlie is struck by a dizzying suspicion that he may forgo all other earthly comforts to live in this moment forever. 

Wandering hands wander further as Charlie tears himself away from Nick’s mouth to breathe at his ear and run his lips across the soft place where his jaw meets his neck. Nick hums, sighing something that might be Charlie’s name, and tightens his hands in the back of his t-shift to pull him closer. Charlie is beginning to think that Tom may get his show, after all, when suddenly a door slams somewhere in the house, quickly followed by the sounds of one of his flatmates being violently sick in the bathroom. 

They pull their heads back simultaneously, laughing with the shock of it. “Oh God,” Nick whispers. “That does not sound fun.” 

Charlie pulls a face and rolls away with a sigh. “I should probably go and check on whoever it is.” 

“Of course,” Nick replies, watching Charlie push himself off the bed with liquid eyes. 

Charlie opens the door and sticks his head out into the hall to find Nina already at the bathroom door, about to knock. He calls her name softly and she turns back to face him. “I’ve got this, don’t worry,” she whispers when she sees him. “Alex just had a few too many vodka redbull at the pub.” 

Charlie screws his face up in sympathy. “Shit. Knock if you need me, yeah?” 

“We’re all good, promise. You go back to… whatever it is you were up to.” Nina grins and winks at him.

Charlie rolls his eyes. “No comment.” 

“Whatever you say. We’re all expecting to meet him in the morning, just so you know. Had a flat meeting and everything.”

“Maybe,” Charlie hedges. 

Nina just shakes her head at him, smiling. “It’s going well, yeah?” 

“Really well,” Charlie is sure she sees his blush, even through the dim lighting of the hall. “Really, really well.”

“I'm glad. See you in the morning, babe.” 

“See you.” 

With that, Charlie watches as she knocks on the door and pushes it open, hearing her sympathetic coo as she begins to sort out Alex. He feels a sudden rush of affection for her, and for the lot of them; loud and chaotic as they may be, they do all look out for each other. Easing the door closed, he turns back to Nick, who is settled back on the bed typing on his phone with a smile on his face. “Sorry about that.”

Nick looks up and sets his phone off to the side. “Nah, don’t worry. It happens. Christian once accidentally set the oven on fire whilst Sai had a girl over.” 

Charlie laughs and moves over to sit on the bed again. “Seriously?” 

“Yup. Sai had to come and deploy the fire extinguisher in his boxers. Don’t worry, I’ve already told them to be on their best behaviour when you come over,” Nick says earnestly. He pats the space next to him on the bed. “C’mere.” 

Charlie goes gladly, settling himself into Nick’s side. “I think they all want to meet you in the morning, by the way. Don’t worry if you’re not up for it, I can always sneak you out before your train.” 

“That's OK,” Nick replies, stifling a yawn. “Operation win over all Charlie’s friends starts now.” 

“I think you’ve already won them over, to be honest. I’ve talked about you… a decent amount.” Plus, it’s Tao you have to worry about, Charlie thinks. That’s a problem for another day, though. 

Nick tilts his head so it’s resting on top of Charlie’s. “Decent, eh?” 

“Potentially verging on the ridiculous,” Charlie admits. 

Nick goes to reply, but it’s lost in another yawn. “Fucking hell, sorry.”

“No sorries,” Charlie admonishes, tapping his chest. “I meant it when I said it’s been a big day. Sleep now?” 

“But I wanted to kiss you more,” Nick pouts. 

“You can kiss me in the morning,” Charlie replies, stifling his own yawn now. He reaches over and turns off the bedside light, before turning to face Nick in the dark.

“Promise?” Nick asks, resting a hand on Charlie’s hip. Despite his protests, he’s already half-asleep, his voice coming in a slurred, breathy rush. 

“I promise,” Charlie whispers back, feeling his own exhaustion overtake him. Tomorrow morning, and every morning after that. 

+

Darcy
NICKKKKKKKKK
-OLAS
a little sai-shaped birdie just told me you did NOT come home on the leeds team bus this afternoon
spill or die

Tara
What Darcy means is, are you ok?
I assume the boys didn’t leave you drunk in a bush somewhere??

Darcy
hellooooooooooooo
earth to nick
I really hope this means what i think it means 
but if they did just leave you somewhere
I will kill them 

Tara 
Nick???
Seriously, if I don't get a reply by 11 I’m calling Sarah

Nick
I’m fine!!
Sorry sorry, not been looking at my phone
Also, you know they’re all too scared of the two of you to just leave me somewhere

Darcy 
thank god for that i thought i’d have to find a new bisexual 
so??????
the tea??????????

Nick
:-)

Darcy
don’t be coy it’s bringing me out in hives

Tara
Same

Nick
;-)

Tara
OK logging off now

Nick
Nooooooooooo
Ok, fine
I’m at Charlie’s
!!!!!!

Tara
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darcy 
omg
I didn’t think you had it in you 
...
ok tara just kicked me
I am extremely happy for you, obviously
And for me 
For not having to deal with another year of pining 

Tara 
That is, admittedly, a bonus
I assume seeing him again went well?

Nick
SO well
He’s amazing
Can’t believe he likes me back tbh lol 

Tara
Well I believe it!!
Who wouldn’t?

Darcy 
you are a certifiable catch 
if i didn’t have tara i would pick you to be my girlfriend 

Nick
Lol thank you
I think?
Anyway, he’s coming to leeds next weekend!!

Darcy 
omg yay
the interrogation can begin

Nick
Darcy no

Darcy 
darcy yes

Nick
Tara?

Tara 
You’re on your own with this one, soz 

Nick
:///

Darcy 
:D

+

Charlie wakes gently to the morning sun streaming in through the open blinds, with a still-sleeping Nick pressed close. At some point in the night, the temperature dipped and Charlie had woken up a little chilly, and tried to ease the duvet back off the floor without waking him. Nick had noticed, of course, and reached over him to grab it and wrap it around them both, winding an arm round Charlie’s waist and pulling him close as they both quickly surrendered to sleep again. 

It seems they haven’t moved since; Nick is still wrapped around him, their ankles hooked together, and Charlie can feel the rumble of his chest as he gently snores. Charlie feels warm: that perfect, all-encompassing warmth where the idea of moving at all seems impossible. His bed feels softer, somehow, and even the gentle rasp of his cheap, IKEA sheets on his skin is suddenly luxurious. 

It feels like a morning to get lost in.

The world, it seems, has other ideas. Downstairs, he can hear clattering from the kitchen: likely the sounds of his flatmates making themselves a fry-up to stave off their respective hangovers. Nick blinks awake at the particularly violent crash of a pan — Alex had a tendency to take out their hanxiety on the kitchen appliances — looking temporarily dazed. He smiles wide, though, when he looks up to see Charlie already awake. 

“Morning,” he croaks, then clears his throat. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Really well,” Charlie whispers. He usually doesn’t, with an unfamiliar presence in the bed. Then again, Nick has felt familiar to him since the moment they met. “Did you?” 

“Like a baby,” Nick whispers back.

“Hmm, a massive, snoring baby.” 

“Shut up, I wasn’t, was I?” 

Charlie smiles down at him, holding his thumb and index finger close together. “Only a little.” 

Nick hides his face in the pillow. “Fuck my life.” 

Charlie laughs and tugs at his shoulder until he flips back over. “Nooo, it was cute. Like having my own personal white noise machine.” 

“Can’t believe you found my snoring cute. It’s like you fancy me or something.” Nick grins, looking unimaginably pleased with himself. 

“Maybe I do,” Charlie replies, voice coming out softer than he intended. He reaches up to brush some of Nick’s hair back from his face and Nick catches his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before cradling it in his. They sit in the moment together, until Charlie suddenly notices the sun is a little higher in the sky than he might have otherwise anticipated. “How long until your train, by the way? I think we might have overslept a bit.” 

Nick glances at his phone. “Shit, so we did. It’s in an hour.” 

They smile sadly at each other, and Charlie sees his own thoughts mirrored in Nick’s eyes: he wants longer, here, the two of them pressed close under the covers in their own little world. There’s a tiny, niggling worry in his mind that Nick might come to his senses the moment they are apart again; he has a wild urge to offer to come back to Leeds with him today — uni is done, and he has another few weeks of nothing until his summer job starts — but he tamps it down. He’s seeing Nick next weekend, and there do need to be some limits. Right? “Come on,” he says softly. “Let's go have some breakfast.” 

They both get dressed, Nick laughing when he realises his shirt is still lost somewhere in the living room below. Charlie rifles through his drawer of assorted band t-shirts, coming away with a ratty, oversized vest that has sat unused for years. He throws it to Nick, who pulls it on along with his joggers. The fabric has thinned out with age, and it’s almost see-through where it stretches across Nick’s chest, the topography of his torso a suggestive shadow underneath. 

“This,” Charlie says, resting his hands on Nick’s shoulders, “should not be allowed.” 

Nick smirks. “Like what you see?” 

Charlie remembers just how much Nick liked being looked at when he had him spread across the sofa yesterday, and takes his time dragging his eyes down the length of his body, before meeting his gaze again. “Careful, I might not let you leave.” 

“Oh no,” Nick sighs, “I’ll just have to stay here forever.” 

“Mmm,” Charlie hums, shuffling closer and running his hands down over Nick’s chest. “That would be a tragedy.” 

Nick laughs and pulls him closer, hand moving up his back as he draws him in, pulling his t-shirt up with it. His eyes flick to Charlie’s lips, and his tongue briefly darts out to whet his own. Just as Charlie is tilting his head up expectantly, eyes fluttering closed, Nick’s stomach growls insistently in the quiet of the room. 

Tension broken, Charlie giggles and Nick screws his eyes up, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Kind of ruined the moment.” 

Charlie smiles, helplessly endeared, and kisses him on the cheek. “There’ll be lots of other moments,” he reassures him. “Let's get you fed before your train.” 

They make their way down the stairs, the voices rising up from the kitchen going suspiciously quiet as the stairs creak underfoot. When they reach the bottom, Charlie turns to Nick. “I’m sorry in advance, by the way.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Charlie waves a hand in the air as he pushes the kitchen door open. “You’ll see.” 

As he feared, his flatmates are sitting at the kitchen table, quickly feigning nonchalance and busying themselves as Nick and Charlie walk in. Tom makes a show of putting down his newspaper — a newspaper, of all things; Charlie’s not entirely sure he’s ever seen him read before — and grins. “Oh hi!” he says brightly. “Didn’t see you there, Charlie. And who is this?” 

Charlie rolls his eyes at the display. “Guys, this is Nick. Nick, this is Tom, Alex and Nina,” he says, gesturing at each of them in turn. 

“Nick,” Alex says, tapping their chin. “Now where have I heard that name before?” 

Nick flushes and looks over at Charlie with a grin, before stepping forward and shaking each of their hands in turn. “It’s really nice to meet you guys.” He reaches Nina, shaking her hand with a bit more vigour. “Like, really nice.” 

“You too, Nick,” Nina says slowly, shooting Charlie a questioning look over Nick’s shoulder at his enthusiastic greeting. Charlie bites back a laugh. I’ll tell you later, he mouths as Nick turns to make them both a coffee, opening a few of the cupboard doors at random until Alex takes pity on him and leans over from their chair to nudge open the correct one.

Whilst Nick’s back is turned, Alex shoots Charlie a comically obvious thumbs up, looking awfully perky for someone who had their head down the toilet mere hours before. Charlie tries to convey as much in his answering glare, but the message is clearly lost on them. Nick turns back around, magnanimously pretending not to notice the exchange, and sets their coffees down, quickly claiming the seat next to Charlie. He nudges Charlie’s leg with his own and gestures over at something with a tilt of his head. Charlie’s eyes follow the movement and he sees, to his horror, that Nick’s shirt from last night has been draped, in pride of place, over their flat notice board. 

Tom notices them both looking. “Oh yeah, we found that on the floor behind the sofa. Didn’t realise you’d joined the Leeds first fifteen, Charlie?” 

“Get fucked,” Charlie shoots back. 

“You’ll have to blame me for that one, sorry.” Nick blushes and laughs as he puts a reassuring hand on Charlie’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. Charlie responds in kind by putting his own hand over it, lightly tracing the topography of his knuckles and the soft skin of his wrist. 

“No worries,” Tom says cheerfully, “you can pay us back by telling us about yourself, Nick.”

Nick takes the resulting interrogation in stride, the pulse beneath Charlie’s fingers remaining steady as he fields questions covering everything from uni to rugby to his dating history. Charlie gives his flatmates a pointed look when they bring up the latter — they can be overbearing at times, and do occasionally need to be kept in check — but Nick just laughs good-naturedly and gives them a brief overview. Charlie knows it all already, of course — it’s one of the many things they had messaged into the night about over the previous year — but he’s still heartened by the ease and openness with which Nick can discuss his experiences, both good and bad. 

Nick gives as good as he gets, showing genuine interest in their lives and, much to their delight, even indulging in some gently mockery regarding their obvious hangovers — at some point in the conversation, Alex has put their sunglasses back on, and Tom is clutching onto his coffee like it might evaporate. They are clearly charmed; even Nina, usually the most discerning of them all (after Charlie, of course) seems satisfied, sitting back and watching them all talk with a smile on her face. Charlie knows that, ultimately, it only really matters what he thinks of Nick, and what Nick thinks of him, but it’s still a unique joy to watch them all get on so easily. 

When Nick off-handedly mentions he’s moving to Manchester, Tom’s eyes bulge and Alex nearly shoots off their chair with excitement, accidentally kicking Charlie under the table in the process. Only Nina manages to keep her cool, looking between them both with a spark in her eye. “I suppose that means you’ll be seeing a lot more of each other,” she says casually.

Nick links his fingers with Charlie’s under the table, shyly meeting his eyes. “I certainly hope so.” 

Alex sighs and picks up their phone. “That’s it, I’m redownloading Hinge.” 

*

Too soon, the alarm on Nick’s phone — the ‘you absolutely must leave right now to catch your train’ alarm — buzzes, and it’s time to go. Charlie bundles him out the door before his flatmates can ply him with too many questions about when exactly he’ll be back, Nick reclaiming his shirt and shrugging it on as they go. It’s cooler outside than the previous day, but no less gorgeous, the sun making even Manchester’s more brutalist buildings sparkle as they wind their way towards the station. That, or Charlie is just so blissfully happy that the whole world shines with it.

It’s a Friday morning, after rush hour, and the streets are relatively quiet. Nick and Charlie are quiet, too, their joined hands swinging between them as they walk in step. When the station eventually comes into view, each of them subconsciously slows down, feet dragging. They both realise it at the same time, laughing and looking at each other sheepishly. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” Nick admits. 

“Me too,” Charlie sighs. “But it’s only a week.” 

Nick nods. “And you’ll definitely come?” he asks. Charlie can see his anxiety in the slope of his brow, and in the rounding of his shoulders. He gets it: there is still a small part of him that wonders if Nick might get back to Leeds, away from the intensity of the past twenty-four hours, and change his mind. Then he remembers the way Nick smiled at him at the pitch, remembers their whispered words last night, and he just knows it won't happen. If only he could wash away Nick’s uncertainty, too, by cracking open his chest and showing him the home he’s already made for himself there. In time, he will — he’s sure of it. 

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” Charlie replies, meaning it.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a Rolling Stones lyric,” Nick teases.  

“See! I’m already rubbing off on you,” Charlie grins.

Nick raises his eyebrows suggestively at the comment and Charlie groans, pretending to pull away. Nick laughs and tugs him back, letting go of his hand to put an arm around him instead. They reach the main concourse, the station opening up in front of them. It’s all marble floors and high, vaulted ceilings — a leftover of Victorian opulence — with the departure board hung high above, taunting them with the fact that the Leeds train departs in nine minutes. 

They glance at each other, frowning. It’s an awkward amount of time: too short to go and grab a coffee and luxuriate further in each other's company, and too long to just rip off the plaster and say their hurried, painful goodbyes. Part of Charlie just wants to sit Nick somewhere and look into his lovely face for a bit longer, hold his hand and try to telepathically project how absolutely certain he is about him, until the slight furrow between his brow disappears completely. 

Then, he spots a little alcove, set between a vending machine and the entrance to the stairs leading down to the lower platforms, and has an idea. He grabs Nick’s hand and drags him over to it, Nick following easily despite his obvious confusion. Pulling them both into the space so they are vaguely shielded from the bustle of the station, he steps up to Nick and puts his hands on his arms. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Nick replies, bemused. “What are we doing here, then?” 

Charlie smiles. “I promised you a kiss in the morning, didn’t I?” 

Nick’s eyes flash with understanding. “You did,” he agrees, already moving closer. 

“I keep my promises,” Charlie murmurs, moving a hand up into Nick’s hair. He leans up, raising up onto his toes as Nick tilts his head down to meet him, hands set fast on his waist. Despite the ticking clock of the departures board, it’s an unhurried thing. The private well of feeling they had carved out together last night immediately rises up again; Charlie can feel Nick relax and give over to it, the corner of his mouth curving up in a smile even as they kiss. The world disappears again, for the next few minutes, until even this grubby little corner of the station feels like somewhere Charlie could spend forever in. 

Eventually, he pulls back, his concern at the price of a last-minute replacement ticket winning out over his secret desire to make Nick miss his train. Nick puts a hand to his face and presses one last, chaste kiss to his mouth before pulling back too, both of them still caught in the circle of each other's arms. 

“Thanks for messaging me on Instagram, by the way,” Charlie whispers.

“Thanks for replying,” Nick whispers back. “And for knowing exactly what I needed, just now.” He pauses and takes a breath. “I just need you to know that I’m so, so sure about you, Charlie. It’s almost embarrassing how sure I am.” 

“And a little scary, hmm?” Charlie replies, rubbing his hands up and down Nick’s arms.

“Yeah.” Nick tilts his head and smiles. “In a good way, though.” 

“A very good way,” Charlie agrees.

Before either of them can speak again, the announcement for Nick’s train sounds out over the speakers. Nick sighs. “We don’t seem to have the best luck with trains or buses, do we?” 

“I’m starting to think anything that carries you away from me is bad,” Charlie admits after a moment. 

Nick shakes his head. “You’re making me want to kiss you again.” 

“Nope! No time,” Charlie cries, making a show of pushing Nick out of the alcove. “Go get your train, rugby boy.” 

Nick grins and lets himself be pushed. They jog over to his platform, where, thankfully, there is still a reasonable crowd making their way through the barriers. Once they reach the ticket gates, Nick turns to look at him. “I’ll message you,” he promises, squeezing his hand. 

“Not if I message you first,” Charlie hits back, and he’s rewarded by Nick’s beaming smile. “Now go.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Nick laughs, holding his hands up. He takes a few steps towards the gate, before seemingly thinking the better of it and doing an about-turn, striding his way back to Charlie and stopping in front of him. 

“Nick,” Charlie admonishes, secretly delighted as Nick steps closer and puts his hands to his face. 

“One more for the road?” Nick asks, barely having time to get the words out before Charlie is on him, winding his arms around his neck for one last searing kiss. They part, and Nick nods, breathing hard. “A week?”

“A week,” Charlie confirms. 

This time, Nick really does have to run, edging through the gate and sprinting up the platform. A few people give him a wide berth as he barrels along in his kit, and he nearly collides with the conductor as he turns back to give Charlie one last wave, slipping through the doors as they close at the sound of the whistle. 

As the train pulls away, Charlie’s phone buzzes with a notification from Instagram.

I’ve just realised, it reads, I don’t even have your number.

+

Nick 
So
How’s it going?

Charlie
your train literally just pulled out
the train you almost missed, btw

Nick
Just testing if iMessage works xx
And something major might have happened in the last two minutes 

Charlie 
well i did just witness a toddler try to catch a pigeon
luckily her dad spotted her before I had to intervene

Nick 
See! 
These are important details 

Charlie
feels weird not using insta 
I don't have a display photo for you yet :((
where is my little mini-nick to keep me company on the cold and lonely nights

Nick
*image attachment*
Better?

Charlie
much better
I miss you :(

Nick 
I miss you, too

Charlie
gay

Nick 
Charlie!!

Charlie
lol
the point still stands, though

Nick
I really don’t want to wait a week to see you again

Charlie
me neither
…
look please feel free to tell me if this is completely ridiculous
but im kind of still at the station
and the next train to leeds leaves in 20 mins

Incoming call from Nick Nelson (1hr 03m) 

Nick 
I’m waiting for you next to the Costa
I’ll be the one in the rugby kit xxx