Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Nick thought it was just a bad dream. He and Charlie had been friends for the better part of two years now, and they had their fair share of sleepovers, but he’d never known Charlie to have nightmares before. They had become close, very close, best friends… so if Charlie was prone to having nightmares Nick would have thought that it would have come up in any of the deep discussions they’d shared.
Honestly though, Nick wouldn’t be surprised if Charlie was having nightmares. After the hell he’d been through with being outed, enduring the barrage of bullying, Ben’s assault… But Charlie seemed so resilient, he powered through it. Nick wasn’t naive enough to think that the younger boy wasn’t wholly unaffected though. Through their Paris trip, Nick has witnessed the steady decline of Charlie’s mental wellbeing. It stirred something deep within Nick.
The pinnacle of it all came when quick reflexes were the only thing that stopped Charlie from crashing to the floor in the Louvre… Regardless of how strong Nick was, how much he could lift, could carry… nothing could explain the frailty of the boy collapsed in his arms. It wasn’t until that moment, the moment he felt the weight, the slight frame of his best friend, completely lifeless in his grasp that Nick fully understood the severity of… everything.
Since that moment, the ginger promised himself he would be more attentive to his best friend; seeing him get help, asking him about therapy, planning meals with him. Nick noticed a blooming in Charlie in the months after. Dark curls regained a luster that caught the sun while they bounced across his forehead on the rugby field, Pale skin flushed with pink, full of life when they laughed too hard during form while trying to keep quiet; a unique sparkle lit beneath the depth of stormy blue eyes when talking about some impossible to follow classical novel that took a dictionary for the older boy understand.
Somewhere in between the months of watching the dark-haired boy fight his way back to healthy, Nick felt something shift between them. He felt bonded to Charlie, completely. They had been though something together. Nick knew he would never understand all the pain, the deep deep scars, the mental anguish his best friend battled… but he held his hand though the entire way and it brought a level of closeness that he knew he would never experience with any of his other friends.
So, when the thin frame of the boy sleeping next to him gasped and shifted, it immediately pulled Nick from his dreamless sleep. It was the end of term, they were off enjoying the start of Christmas break and celebrating by having a night of Nick being absolutely slaughtered at video games and them trying their hand at a few new recipes Charlie’s nutritionist had challenged him to. Curls strewn across the pillow as his head tossed from side to side in a gentle manner. Nick took stock of his friend as he sat up to wake him. Arms straight out on either side of his body, Charlie’s fists clenched around the sheets covering him, his breathing coming in quick pants, feet twitching, moving beneath the sheets while his whole body shifted restlessly.
“Charlie” Nick called quietly, not wanting to frighten him. A whimper escaped the younger boy’s lips as he turned his head towards the noise. Moonlight spilled across his delicate features, painting him in silver, and Nick thought for a moment, he looked like a picture, strangely captivated – he momentarily forgot why he was woken in the first place, entranced as he watched the dreamscape controlling his best friend. Charlie turned the opposite way on his pillow, facing away from a now sitting Nick, the pale expanse of his throat fully bathed in the moonlight. The red head felt his chest tighten, his breath catching as he watched the scene unfold below him. Why wasn’t he trying harder to wake Charlie – it was like he was frozen, completely spellbound.
Charlie arched his back and let out the tiniest of gasps…
Nick understood then.
This wasn’t a nightmare.
He was now intruding on an intimate moment. Nick filed away in the back of his mind for later, to discuss with himself why he let this go on for so long. He wasn’t sure if he meant the dream, or watching the dream happen.
But honestly, what was he to do? Wake Charlie up and let him be embarrassed? Go back to sleep and pretend nothing was happening? Get up and leave until it was safe to come back? A maelstrom of emotions passed though him, each as confusing as the next. Nick almost wished it was a nightmare.
Charlie became more and more restless, shifting below their shared blankets, his whimpers becoming more vocal. His red lips parted as his breaths became heavier. A strange heat flooded though Nick, he felt embarrassed to be there, like he was taking advantage of his friend. They always shared his bed when they had sleepovers, he couldn’t ever remember a time this happened before – nor with any of his other friends. They were teens though; it was bound to happen right? Normal? Nick woke many times to tight sleep shorts, wet sheets, blissful memories of pleasure. It was nothing to be ashamed of. It was just so strange witnessing it, being so close to someone else experiencing it.
How should Nick feel? Charlie was in his bed, gasping, squirming, panting… and Nick’s heartbeat was… speeding up. Immediately he tells himself it is the adrenaline or the embarrassment of the situation. Then Charlie lets out a breathy moan – Nick stops breathing.
Charlie arches his back gently before falling back down against the mattress, breathing heavily, though they’re not touching, Nick can feel the shiver pass through Charlie’s body. There are some residual twitches of his fingers, hands still wound tight around the sheets. Raven hair ghosts across his forehead, matted slightly from a sheen of sweat as he turns his head back towards Nick. In the light, Nick can see the flush of his cheeks, bottom lip red from teeth sinking into it briefly. It was bliss, Charlie looked blissful. Nick stared at him too long, rationalizing all the thoughts in his head – he never wanted to see any other expression on the younger man’s face. He knows it was wrong to have these thoughts, wrong to think anything at the moment. But… he couldn’t turn it off – He had just watched pleasure dance across his friend’s face, and he enjoyed it.
Nick laid back down, staring vacantly up at the ceiling. What was wrong with him. He was awful. He had completely taken advantage of Charlie, and there was no reason or explanation that would make it okay. He desperately tried to calm himself down and let the rhythmic cadence of Charlie’s sated breaths wash over him. It worked, he gently felt himself slipping into slumber and the guilt loosen just enough for him to fall into a fitful sleep.
In the morning, he would tell himself that he dreamed it all up, that he manifested the whole thing. The morning would agree with him and explain away the madness of the truth and drop down a haze of forgotten moans, imaginary shivers, made up gasps and trade them for confusion in the dark, protectiveness that wished for happiness instead of pain and it would all culminate in his head that Nick watched his friend have a nightmare that he was in too deep a sleep to wake from and in the morning when they woke, it would all be forgotten like a bad dream.