“I’m fine,” Andrew insists, an obvious lie as evidenced by being too weak to move off the damn floor.
Everything hurts, partially from being sick, partially from using muscles he didn’t know he had to puke his guts out, and partly because he’s not a teenager anymore, and the floor is absolutely not an ergonomic place to sleep.
“Fuckingfine,” Nicki gripes, squatting down. He’s dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a low cut t-shirt that shows off his impressive chest. Andrew would like to live on that chest. “How long have you been here?”
“Dunno,” Andrew answers, too out of it to think.
He tries to close his eyes, but Nicki clicks his tongue, reaching for Andrew, almost as if he means to pick him up.
“I’m too heavy,” Andrew tells him.
“I can bench press almost three hundred pounds, princess. I guarantee your ass isn’t too heavy, and if it was, I’d just fucking lift more.”
The idea that Nicki would simply adjust his body to make it do what he needed to in order to pick up Andrew makes him want to cry.
Oh, heiscrying, tears leaking out without his permission. When did that happen?
Fuck being sick.
Fuck having feelings.
Fuck being vulnerable.
“That’s it, I’m calling out of the game tonight,” Nicki announces, easily lifting Andrew off the floor in a bridal carry.
“You can’t,” Andrew protests, feeling a bit like a rag doll. He should hate it, but instead it’s nice. He doesn’t even try to stiffen his body to make it easier to be held, doesn’t hold onto Nicki’s neck, just goes limp because he is useless and sick,and he doesn’t want to do anything. He doesn’t even want a corporeal form right now, so he absolutely refuses to participate in maintaining its current existence when it’s betraying him by being sick.
“You slept on the fucking floor, Andrew.”
“Don’t call me Andrew,” he demands, aware he’s whining but too miserable to care or censor himself.
“No?”
“No,” Andrew affirms, breathing in the familiar scent of Nicki’s cologne that clings to his clean skin. He must’ve used his normal body care after showering at the rink, and Andrew is so glad. He smells so good.
“Just princess?”
“Mhmm,” Andrew confirms.
Andrewhas responsibilities.Andrewis controlled.Andrewhas to mask. He doesn’t want any of that, and he doesn’t care if it’s pathetic or selfish or wrong. He doesn’t want to be anything but Nicki’s princess right now.
When Nicki attempts to lower Andrew, he clings to him, letting out a pitiful moan of displeasure. He does not want to be put down. He wants Nicki to keep holding him. Maybe forever.
Once he’s better, he’s going to have to return to the real world, have adult responsibilities and a job and pretend he doesn’t long for nothing more than to be held and cared for and have someone else be in charge for fucking once.
Andrew is so fuckingtired.
“Don’t worry.” Nicki kisses his forehead, cursing to himself about Andrew’s fever before continuing. “I’m just gonna get rid of these clothes, and then I’ll get in bed with you.”
Too exhausted to argue about how Nicholas is going to get sick or must have better things to do, he closes his eyes and lays there listening to the sound of Nicki’s jeans being undone beforefalling to the floor. There’s a soft thud that follows and he hopes it’s Nicki’s shirt.
Seconds later, the bed dips, and then Nicki’s solid frame surrounds him from behind. Though he’s clothed, he likes knowing Nicki barely is, letting his hands rest on Nicki’s forearm where it wraps around his middle.
“That’s it, princess. Just relax.”
A simple command, and one he so rarely is able to abide by. Relaxing doesn’t come easy for Andrew, but with Nicki spooning him, it’s easier than it usually is. Not easy because contrary to what his family thinks, nothing—not even existing—comes easy to Andrew, buteasier. Being around Nicki doesn’t change his brain, but it makes it easier to live in, a kind of comfort Andrew didn’t ever dare dream of.
All the noise in his brain, the thoughts and worries and compulsions that rarely stop, quiet. Not just because of Nicki, though his presence helps, but because Andrew is so tired, everything grows fuzzy, and the world fades away.
