Chapter Text
Hikaru woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. A quiet groan escaped him as he tried to move, only to freeze immediately when a sharp pain shot through his body.
What the hell…?
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings jolted him awake instantly. This wasn’t his bed. Not his hotel room. And then the memories came back; blurry, fragmented, but clear enough.
His gaze fell on the rumpled sheets. The pillows still held the warmth of another body. His clothes, carelessly discarded on the floor. The deep satisfaction in his muscles that could only mean one thing.
He had slept with someone.
And not just slept. He had clearly been the one who…
Hikaru groaned again, this time out of sheer frustration, burying his face in his hands. No, no, no… This couldn’t be happening. He didn’t let himself… be handled like that anymore. That wasn’t his thing. It had never been his thing.
A quiet chuckle from the doorway made him flinch.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Hikaru froze. Slowly, far too slowly, he turned his head toward the door.
And there he was.
Magnus.
Freshly showered, a towel slung lazily around his hips, that damn self-satisfied smirk on his face. Droplets of water trailed down his shoulders, his hair was still damp, and everything about him screamed that he felt fantastic.
Hikaru, on the other hand, felt like he had lost a battle. And he wasn’t even sure against whom.
Magnus leaned against the doorframe, studying him. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to hide under the covers in embarrassment.”
It was only then that Hikaru realized he had instinctively pulled the blanket up to his chin. Hastily, he let go, only to feel even more awkward.
“I—” His voice was hoarse, his throat dry. “We—?”
“Oh yeah,” Magnus grinned. “More than once, in case you don’t remember.”
Hikaru groaned. For an entirely different reason this time.
Magnus seemed to be enjoying himself. The Norwegian stepped closer, settling onto the edge of the bed without hesitation. “If it makes you feel any better— you were fantastic.”
Hikaru wanted to die.
He turned away, but it didn’t help. His body reminded him that Magnus hadn’t exactly been gentle. And that he hadn’t stopped him.
“I need to go,” he mumbled hastily, trying to sit up, only to immediately grimace in pain.
Magnus watched him, amused. “Do you really think you can stand right now?”
“Fuck you.”
“We already did.”
Hikaru gasped as Magnus stretched casually, looking as if this was the most relaxed morning of his life.
“Wanna shower?” Magnus asked innocently. “I could help you.”
“Leave me alone!” Hikaru threw the nearest pillow at him. Magnus caught it effortlessly, laughing as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Hikaru collapsed back onto the bed, rubbing his face, trying not to completely lose his mind.
What the hell had he done?
Hikaru was still in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling… disgusting.
Not just because of the night before, the memories were still patchy, but the ones he had made his face burn, but because he felt literally gross. Sticky. Sweaty. Every muscle in his body ached, and he knew a hot shower would help.
The problem?
He could barely move.
And even if he somehow made it to the bathroom, would he be able to stand? The pain in his legs and back said no.
That left him with exactly two options:
1. Stay here and continue feeling miserable.
2. Do the unthinkable; ask Magnus for help.
His pride screamed at the thought.
No. Absolutely not.
Magnus would never let him live it down. The guy was already insufferably smug. If Hikaru asked for help now, his ego would skyrocket.
But… the shower.
He could almost feel the hot water, washing away the grime and the… memories… of last night.
A strangled noise escaped him.
He had no choice.
Gritting his teeth, forcing himself upright (and ignoring his body’s protests), he reluctantly called out:
“Magnus.”
It didn’t take long. The bathroom door opened, and the Norwegian returned. He had thrown on a pair of jeans, his hair was drier now, but his expression was just as smug. “Yeah?”
Hikaru looked away. He couldn’t meet his eyes. “I… I need help.”
Silence.
Then, a dangerously amused hum. “Oh? That almost sounded like you were asking me for a favor.”
Hikaru clenched his jaw. “Don’t.”
Magnus grinned. “Don’t what?”
“Just shut up and help me to the bathroom, damn it.”
He regretted it instantly.
Because Magnus took his time, way too much time, studying him before finally stepping closer. Slowly, deliberately, like he was savoring every second.
Hikaru wanted to disappear under the covers.
“So, you really want my help? I thought you were the great, independent Hikaru Nakamura.”
Hikaru grimaced.
“I swear to God, Carlsen—”
Before he could finish, Magnus slipped an arm under his and pulled him to his feet effortlessly. Hikaru gasped, losing his balance, stumbling forward, straight into Magnus’s bare chest.
That was a mistake.
Because now he felt those damn muscles again. And the worst part? They felt good. Warm. Solid. Magnus smelled like his shampoo, faintly of mint and something fresh, and Hikaru hated that he even noticed.
“Stand on your own, Nakamura,” Magnus teased. “Or do you need more support?”
“Just shut up and get me to the bathroom.”
Magnus shook his head, amused, but said nothing else. Instead, he guided him slowly toward the bathroom. Hikaru hated how much he had to lean on him, hated that Magnus wasn’t taking every opportunity to mock him for it.
When they reached the door, Magnus finally let go. But not before giving him one last, infuriatingly smug look.
“Want me to stay?”
Hikaru wordlessly slammed the door in his face.
Magnus’s laughter echoed long after he was gone.