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Charlie didn’t mind watching rugby matches now that he had experience playing. He wouldn’t say he enjoyed them, exactly, but he could at least appreciate them. What he usually did enjoy, though, was watching his boyfriend run up and down the pitch in those cute uniform shorts.
But he wasn’t getting much enjoyment today. The Truham boys were being soundly beaten by Brayton Academy, another team of gigantic men – making it worse was the fact that the other team had quickly realized that Nick was Truham’s top scorer and had two players covering him, meaning that he was getting tackled harder and more often than usual. Charlie had also seen Brayton commit at least three fouls that weren’t called by the referee.
He flinched as Nick went down again and the two much larger opponents piled on top of him. Nick pulled himself up slowly, wincing as he jogged back to his teammates for the next play.
Charlie couldn’t stand watching Nick getting hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
At least he didn’t feel guilty about not playing anymore. Shortly after Charlie had quit the team, a Year 9 who had grown six inches since the start of term asked Coach Singh if he could join, so they had enough players for a reserve. And now that everyone knew about Nick and Charlie, there were no questions about why he was still coming to all of the home games. Most of the players were still friendly to him, usually greeting him as he waited for Nick to clean up and change. Harry was surprisingly quiet, but Charlie had never been so glad to be ignored by someone.
Finally, the match was over and the Truham boys trudged off the pitch, so covered in mud that some of them were hard to tell apart. Charlie gathered up his coat and backpack and hurried down to the turf, where Sai and Otis each gave him a tired nod as they passed. Nick limped over to him, still breathing hard.
“You’re bleeding,” Charlie said, gesturing toward Nick’s knee.
Nick quickly grabbed his hand. “It’s rugby. It happens.”
“Nick—”
“No fussing over me,” Nick said, lowering his voice and looking over his shoulder. “Remember when Christian’s mum tried to wipe his bloody nose with a tissue?”
The guys had given Christian a hard time about that for weeks. Charlie had quickly learned that one of the unofficial rules of rugby is that you don’t acknowledge injuries. “Play through the pain” and all that sport-culture bullshit. He just sighed and shook his head.
“Rugby lad.”
“I’m fine,” Nick said, smiling and pressing a quick kiss to Charlie’s temple. “I’ll just change out of my boots and be out in a minute. I can wash up at home.”
But Charlie could see that he was in pain as he walked toward the locker room. Nick was a natural caretaker but had a hard time conceding that he ever needed help. When Charlie was at the inpatient clinic, Nick couldn’t have been more supportive, but Charlie knew how hard that time was on him – even if Nick would never admit it. He still wouldn’t even let Charlie advise him on his maths homework.
Nick emerged from the locker room still muddy, but wearing his coat and his Vans, and carrying his school and rugby kit bags. How did he look so cute while covered in dirt?
“You are a disaster,” Charlie said with a half-smile.
“I did wash my hands,” Nick said proudly, holding them up as proof, then sliding his left hand into Charlie’s right. They walked off the pitch out onto the street, Nick moving noticeably slower than usual. Charlie stopped and pulled his backpack up onto both shoulders.
“Here, give me your bags,” he said, reaching around and taking the kit bag out of Nick’s hand before he could protest.
“You don’t have to –”
“Nicholas Nelson, you’re limping and bleeding. Let me carry these.” He grabbed the strap slung over Nick’s shoulder.
“I’m fine, you –”
“Give it.”
Nick’s eyebrows rose and one side of his mouth quirked up. “Oo, bossy.” He let Charlie take the second bag.
“Sorry.”
“No, no s-word. I think I like Bossy Charlie.” Nick smirked as he leaned in for a gentle kiss, then brought his lips to Charlie’s ear. “We may need to talk about that later,” he said softly, his breath grazing across Charlie’s skin.
Charlie’s cheeks flushed and he giggled, giving Nick a light shove. "Shut up."
"Oi! Is that any way to treat a wounded man?"
Fortunately, the bus was on time for once, so it didn’t take too long to get back to Nick’s house. When they got inside, they were pounced upon by Nellie and Henry. Charlie dropped all of their bags in a heap in the hallway and crouched to hug both dogs.
“Ugh, they probably need to go out.” Nick looked like more walking was the last thing he wanted to do, so Charlie pushed him toward the stairs.
“You go get cleaned up and I’ll handle them.”
On most Fridays after school, they took advantage of the empty house by immediately going to Nick’s room to make out, but that was definitely off the table today. Nick looked so tired, if Charlie could have carried him up the stairs, he would have. He’d have to settle for finding him something to eat – it was a little early for dinner, but Nick was always starving after a game. As he was perusing the contents of the refrigerator, Sarah texted him and Nick.
Working a little late tonight, but there’s a lasagna in the fridge that just needs to be heated up. Just make sure you two leave some for me. ❤️ Mum/Sarah
Charlie smiled at the fact that Sarah now just assumed he and Nick would be together on a Friday after school. Sometimes he felt more at home in the Nelson household than his own house.
You are THE BEST ❤️, he texted back. Then he turned on the oven and then grabbed the dogs’ leashes.
“Who wants to go for a walk? Henry, hold still!” He clipped the leashes on. “Who’s my good girl, Nellie?” As Charlie threw his coat back on, he heard the shower turn on.
It was a quick walk, just long enough for the dogs to do their business, but it was getting a little cold as the sun went down, so they didn’t seem to mind coming home. When they returned to the Nelson house, he heard Nick rustling about upstairs. After unleashing the dogs and taking off his coat, he put the lasagna in the oven. He scrolled through Instagram for a few minutes until Nick hobbled down the stairs. He was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and carrying a jumper. Charlie quickly spotted the reason he hadn’t put the jumper on yet – his elbows were split open just as badly as his knee. And now that the mud was washed off, Charlie could see purple blooming on his left cheekbone.
“Nick.” Charlie jumped out of his chair. “Look at you.” He cupped Nick’s face in his hands, brushing his thumb gently over the bruise.
“Yeah, I guess I took a beating,” he admitted. “I needed to put plasters on my arms before I could put this on but I couldn’t do it myself.” Nick sighed and looked back at the staircase. “And I forgot the plasters upstairs.”
“I’ll go get –” Charlie started to say.
“Wait, not yet,” Nick said, engulfing Charlie in a hug. Charlie wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close, breathing in his freshly showered scent.
“I know it’s part of the game, but I don’t like it when you get hurt,” Charlie said, his voice muffled by Nick’s broad shoulder.
“I know.”
They held each other for a few more minutes, until Nick’s stomach grumbled loudly.
Charlie laughed and glanced at the time on his phone. “Your mum’s lasagna should be ready in ten minutes.”
“Bless her.”
“In the meantime, you need something for that black eye.”
“I think I caught an elbow to the face.” Charlie took an ice pack from the freezer and handed it to Nick, who hissed at the cold when he touched it to his cheekbone.
Charlie winced as if he felt the physical pain too. “Okay, first aid time,” he said. “Where are the plasters?”
Nick explained where to find them and Charlie scurried up the stairs. He found a large supply of plasters in multiple sizes, along with antiseptic and paracetamol, so he brought them all down with him. At the bottom of the stairs, he could hear Nick talking on the phone.
“… No, we got murdered… Yeah, I got a little banged up, but I’m OK… No, don’t worry, Mum, Charlie’s taking care of me.”
Charlie smiled to himself. He wasn’t glad his boyfriend got injured – obviously – but he liked being able to take care of Nick for a change. It was frustrating to always be the one who needed help… the one who was broken… the one who needed to be taken care of. Heating up a lasagna and fetching plasters hardly made up for all the visits to the inpatient clinic and fighting off bullies, but it was a start.
“I promise,” Nick was saying when he saw Charlie return. He held out his phone. “Charlie, will you tell her I’m fine?”
“He insists that he’s fine, but I’m bandaging him up,” Charlie called out.
Nick grinned up at him from his seat at the kitchen table. “Teaming up against me, I see how it is,” he said, putting the phone back to his ear. “OK, Mum, see you later… Love you too. Bye.”
Charlie took their dinner out of the oven and then got to work on Nick’s injuries. Many “sorrys” were exchanged as Charlie tried to dab them with antiseptic without making them sting, and Nick tried not to flinch when they stung anyway. But after just a few minutes, Nick’s scrapes were covered and he was dosed up on painkillers. Charlie helped him into his jumper and kissed him on the forehead.
“I like this jumper on you,” he said. “The bright blue looks good with your hair.”
“I think you wear it more than I do,” Nick chuckled. “I was surprised to see it still laying on my bed when I got out of the shower. I thought you would have stolen it again, but you didn’t even change.” He tugged gently on Charlie’s tie.
“Oh god, I’m still wearing my uniform?” Charlie yanked the tie over his head, dropping it on the table.
“Don’t worry, you’re still cute,” Nick said, “even in an ugly tie.”
Charlie cupped Nick’s unbruised cheek in his hand. “Put that ice pack back on your pretty face while I get dinner ready.”
He cut up the lasagna, putting one piece on his plate and two on Nick’s, leaving more than enough for Sarah.
Nick seemed to get back some of his energy while they ate, talking about nothing particularly important. As Nick described something funny that had happened in history that day, Charlie realized that he’d nearly cleaned his plate without giving it too much thought. Whether it was progress or just distracted concern for his boyfriend, Charlie wasn’t sure, but he was going to take the win either way.
While Charlie was clearing the plates, Nick yawned.
“Maybe you should just go to bed early,” Charlie suggested. “I can go h –“
“No, don’t go,” Nick pleaded, grabbing both of Charlie's hands in his. “It's not even dark out yet. I’m too tired to make out so you have to at least let me have cuddles on the sofa.”
Charlie smiled fondly. “Then you go pick out a film while I finish up in here.”
Nick pushed himself up from the table with some effort and walked carefully into the lounge, still limping, but not as badly. Meanwhile, Charlie finished the dishes, put the ice pack back in the freezer, and put the leftover lasagna back in the cooled oven so the dogs wouldn’t get to it. By the time he went to the lounge, Nick had taken his usual place on the sofa under their usual blanket. Charlie took his usual place tucked under Nick’s left arm.
“The first Captain America?”
“I thought you liked this one.”
“It’s okay, but the Winter Soldier one is better.”
“You just think Bucky is hot.”
“He is, but it’s also a better movie,” Charlie said. “And I can’t believe I now have strong opinions on Marvel movies. You’ve ruined me.”
Nick laughed and pulled him close. “If you have such strong opinions, we can watch Bucky instead.”
“No, you’re wounded. You get to choose the lesser Captain America movie if that’s what you want. Plus, Cap is hotter than Bucky.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What can I say? I like the wholesome type,” Charlie countered.
"Lucky for me." Nick kissed the top of his head and pressed Play.
Charlie only paid half-attention to the movie, preferring to scroll Instagram while his boyfriend’s fingers traced lazy shapes on his arm. But when those fingers eventually went limp, Charlie took notice. He looked up from his phone and saw that Nick was completely asleep, his head flopped over onto his own shoulder.
The dim evening light still peeked through the curtains, making Nick’s hair gleam like polished copper. Charlie fought the urge to reach out and run his fingers through it. Instead, he admired his boyfriend’s sweet face – it was usually so animated, every thought and emotion showing in his expression. His eyes went wide when he was concerned, then crinkled in the corners to the point of nearly closing when he beamed that adorably crooked smile. Even when he was just revising, or listening to a teacher drone on, or watching television, Charlie loved to watch all the little squints and quirks that let him know exactly what Nick was thinking.
But to see him so still was a rare and beautiful thing. Charlie thought he could gaze at him forever.
Or at least until something exploded on the television screen. Nick stirred and Charlie lunged for the remote, clicking the loud film off as quickly as possible.
Looking back, he saw that Nick was still asleep but had shifted so that his neck was at an awkward angle. He was already going to be sore in the morning – he didn’t need a stiff neck too.
Charlie gently lifted Nick’s arm off the back of the sofa. Then, as carefully as he could, adjusted his boyfriend’s unconscious form so that his head was on Charlie’s chest. Charlie wrapped his arm around him and Nick sighed in his sleep.
He texted Sarah to let her know that Nick had passed out in the lounge. She tended to make a lot of noise coming in the door – at least, ever since she came home early one afternoon a few weeks ago to find Charlie on her sofa with his hands up the back of her son’s shirt and Nick's tongue halfway down his throat. Charlie shuddered in past embarrassment.
Poor darling, Sarah texted back. Thank you for looking out for him.
Charlie didn’t need thanks for that – he’d gladly keep looking out for Nick for the rest of their lives, if he’d let him. It was an insane thing to think when he was only seventeen, but it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about their future. The only thing keeping him from wrapping his other arm around Nick and squeezing him tight in that moment was knowing that he needed sleep.
Unfortunately, Henry didn’t understand his boy’s need for rest and started yipping something he saw through the kitchen window. Nick stirred again, and coughed a little.
“Are you awake?” Charlie asked, as softly as he possible could.
“No,” came Nick’s voice, muffled against Charlie’s uniform jumper. He wrapped one arm across Charlie’s waist, pulling him even closer. “Do you need to go home now?”
“Not yet,” Charlie said, stroking his hair. “Go back to sleep.”
“I definitely like Bossy Charlie,” Nick said sleepily.