“I think I will,” Charlie says, somehow still not at all offended. “Eden was just getting Andrew tucked in. We watched your game but, well?—”
“I played like shit,” Nicholas finishes.
“Yes, that. Andrew told me I wasn’t allowed to say that to you.”
“Andrew has too much tact.”
“That’s exactly what I’m always telling him,” Charlie says. “Man, you and I are so alike.”
“No.”
“Anyways,” Charlie continues, ignoring Nicholas’s protest, “he thinks it’s his fault, and he was pretty upset.”
“Why the fuck would me playing bad be his fault?”
“Because Andrew thinks everything is his fault, Nicholas.” Charlie grabs his arm, but rather than a congenial slap, he squeezes tightly. “I think you’re good for him, I think you appreciate him, but if you hurt him, I will make your life a living hell. Got it?”
For half a second, he thinks Charlie is joking but there’s none of his usual teasing demeanor, nothing funny about the glarehe’s sending Nicholas’s way. Somehow, this version of Charlie he respects. This is the level of protection Andrew deserves.
“Crystal clear,” Nicholas confirms.
“Glad we had this talk, Nicholas. We should do it again.”
“No, we should not.”
Charlie’s laughter is loud as he walks away, apparently to go get Eden, based on his external narration. Thankfully, they come back downstairs quickly, giving Nicholas time to lock up before heading upstairs. He makes quick work of undressing, stripping down to nothing more than his boxers before lifting the covers and climbing into bed.
Tucked in the center is Andrew, curled into a ball and dressed in another one of Nicholas’s hoodies. His hair is also damp, meaning he showered, changed and put on Nicholas’s clothesagain. A thrill runs through him as he slips an arm around Andrew’s middle and tugs him back against his chest where he belongs.
“I could’ve been asleep, you brute.”
“Mine.”
“Absolute caveman,” Andrew huffs, but it doesn’t escape Nicholas’s notice that he leans back until his head is tucked under Nicholas’s chin and every inch of him is touching Nicholas. Taking it a step further, Nicholas slips one of his legs through Andrew’s so he’s not just curled around him, but between him. Surrounding him. Finally, fucking finally, Nicholas relaxes.
“I missed you,” Nicholas murmurs.
“It was only a few hours.”
“I missed you,” Nicholas repeats, kissing the top of Andrew’s head.
“I missed you too,” Andrew exhales.
Slipping his hand beneath the hem of Andrew’s hoodie, he rests his palm on Andrew’s belly. He’s warm, but unlike earlier, he’s not burning up. Nicholas hopes it’s a good sign.
“Nicki, I’m sorry?—”
“No,” Nicholas interrupts, refusing to let him apologize.
Andrew inhales a shaky breath, covering the top of Nicholas’s hand with his hand. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Home,” Nicholas echoes, that single word like a fucking puck to the heart.
“I mean your home. Not mine, but?—”
“It could be yours.”
“This was temporary.”
