Work Text:
She doesn't have to turn around to know it's him. His presence is tangible, matching the curve of her tattoo and the raised edge of her scar.
"Noah," Nick calls softly.
They're alone. Not without some gentle encouragement from Nick, who had spent the better part of the week trying to convince all three parents that he was fine. Like he hadn't died the week before. Noah's hands tighten around the freshly made cup of tea, the ceramic burning into her palms.
It haunts her dreams. Sometimes, Nick never crawls out of the wreckage and all Noah can do is scream as her Dad drags her further away from his limp, outstretched hand. Sometimes, she manages to reach him, but then he's crumpling in his blood soaked hoodie, painting the asphalt crimson or her Dad shoots him and he stumbles into her arms choking on blood and staring at her with wide, vacant eyes. The one she hates the most is when he dies in the ambulance. Out of sight. Alone. Unfailingly Noah wakes in a cold sweat and has to pad across the hallway and push open his door to watch the rise and fall of Nick's sleeping form and matching the steady breaths. In and out. In and out.
She turns slowly, and finds Nick leaning against the doorframe. Gold in the honey-bright rays of the evening sun. He looks hesitant, and was fixing Noah with a look she didn't like.
"Noah." Nick repeats, more insistent this time, taking a few cautious steps forward. "Can we please talk,"
Abandoning her tea on the counter, she tries to push past him and escape to her room but Nick catches her with a gentle hand on her stomach. She freezes, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.
"Hey, hey," Nick says, "You've been avoiding me for all week. What's going on?"
He shifts his hand to her waist with a soft squeeze, and it doesn't feel like he plans on moving it until she gives him some actual answers. He's stood so close; Noah can feel the heat from his hand pressing into her waist through the thin cotton of her shorts. When she still doesn't answer, Nick moves even closer, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Like he can feel her resolve faltering with him crowding her.
His eyebrows raise expectantly, "Hm?"
Noah kisses him.
It's brief, only pressing against the corner of Nick's mouth, before she breaks away from him.
He blinks in surprise, his hand dropping away from her. Noah leaps at his confusion, backing away from him and heading towards the stairs in fastest and calmest pace she can. Her chest is heaving, her pulse jack-rabbiting like before but for an entirely new, but familiar, reason.
She can hear Nick's footsteps behind her but she doesn't stop. Noah almost makes it to the stairs. The pads of his fingers trail down her arm so gently she freezes in place, and she can feel him step closer as his hand laces with hers. It's loose. Loose enough for Noah to consider making a break for it up the stairs, locking the door and continue her desperate attempt of staying out of his way for the rest of their lives. She spins round to face him, staring at the space Nick's silver chain disappears beneath his shirt, her lungs burning. He's still holding her hand, and Noah is suddenly hit with him being here, that she can't stop herself.
"I thought you were dead." She says, eyes darting down to the faint outline of gauze pressing against the side of his shirt. "When they took you away in the ambulance, I thought that - you were bleeding so much, and it was my fault!"
Nick's hand tightens around her pulling her towards him. He couldn't say anything, even as everything in him protests, because Noah can't stop the words tumbling out now.
"It was so stupid," Noah continues, glaring daggers into his side, "you just throw yourself into every dangerous thing. You didn't even - you got stabbed, you should have waited, gotten help, anything. You are so reckless all the time - "
She pulls her hand from his, stepping back in a half-hearted attempt to create space between them. Nick steps forward. His hand gentle and steady under her jaw as he tilts it upwards, "Look at me,"
He regards her with quiet patience that makes Noah's skin buzz. She glares up at him in return. She wants him to be angry. He died. A deep, pitiful guilt that had hung heavy in her stomach rose with the reminder: he had died and it was her fault. And with that came a seething anger.
"You were dead! For two minutes your heart stopped. They didn't even tell me until- I didn't know anything for hours. I couldn't see you." The anger falls away, replaced with a profound, unwanted grief. Noah tears her eyes away from him; she can't look at him without seeing broken glass, and his bloody hoodie, and the crack of gunfire. Her dad dead. Nick bleeding out.
"I'm alive," Nick says, quiet but sure, his voice thick.
Noah represses a sob, shaking her head.
"I'm alive," Nick repeats. This time his voice is closer, more stubborn. Both hands slide slowly upwards until they're resting on either side of her jaw, tracing the curve of her cheekbones and cradling her face. "Hey, hey, do you feel this?"
Noah takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods.
He leans down, his forehead pressing into hers, their noses brushing, "And this?"
Carefully, Noah shifts her gaze to meet Nick's.
"Noah," Nick murmurs, softly and so close she can feel his breath.
And then he kisses her. Nick tastes like strawberries and adrenaline, safety and survival. A gentle apology and forgiveness all wrapped into one and Noah feels the full weight of both grounding her. She closes her eyes, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, focusing on how his racing heart matches her own.
They stay like that for awhile, pressed together and kissing gently in the sun-lit hallway.
Nick pulls away first, his eyes closed as his forehead rests against hers.
"I'm alive, Noah. I feel alive, yeah?" He asks.
Noah takes the smallest step back. Nick lets her, his hands trailing down to rest on her waist. She takes his chin in her hand, turning him towards the light and painting him gold. Noah traces the faint, pinkish scar that ran from his temple to his ear, then the cool metal of his chain, before reaching for his side. Noah stops her breath catching, and glancing up at Nick in hesitation. He lifts the edge of his shirt with one hand, eyes never leaving hers as he pulls her other hand closer. Her fingertips ghost over the indentation of the jagged scar tissue wrapping around Nick's side, waiting for his jaw to clench, for him to hiss in pain. There was nothing. He was okay. The relief was instant and overpowering. Exhausted, Noah sank back into Nick's chest as he tugged her closer, she presses a kiss to the space between his collarbone and his neck as he tangles his fingers in her hair. Warm, soft, alive.
"Yeah," Noah says without looking up, voice husky and muffled by his shirt.
His arms tighten around her, and she ducks her head further into his shoulder. Nick presses a kiss to Noah's hair, a smile coming to his face, and he feels her answering grin pressing into him.