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“Holy shit, Nick, that’s what you were wearing when you two first met??”
“It was a fucking Halloween party, Tara. You were there, for fuck’s sake.”
Tara’s gaze rakes over Nick’s outfit. “Exactly what were you dressed as, hmmm?”
Nick sighs. “It was Darcy’s fault.”
Tara arches an eyebrow. Nick squirms in the incredibly short khaki shorts he’s wearing. The inseam is 4 inches, at most.
“A slutty archaeologist,” he mumbles, his cheeks flushing red.
Tara cackles. “This is going to be epic.”
Charlie’s stag do is tonight, and he’d refused to have it without Nick, so Nick is going. As far as Nick was concerned, what Charlie wanted, Charlie got. They were just going to a pub and then going clubbing, and possibly - God help them - to a karaoke bar.
The theme, though. The theme. Nick is going to have words with Darcy. “Wear What You Were Wearing When You And Charlie First Met!!”
Well. Nick and Charlie had met at the LGBTQIA+ Halloween party their first year at university. If Nick had known then that he’d have to recreate that outfit five years later, he’d have done what he wanted in the first place and gone as a rugby player.
“Hey!” Nick protests. “You met him at the same party! Your butterfly wings are going to take up half the club!”
“No shame in my game, Nicholas! Grab your whip and let’s go, buddy.”
Nick sighs and glances in the mirror as he adjusts his fedora. He sighs and rolls his eyes and unbuttons one more button on the safari shirt he’s wearing. He could do this. It was for Charlie. His best friend, his person, the love of his life.
Worth it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hours later, Nick steps outside into the smoking area at the club. He needs a break and a bit of fresh air - it’s sweltering inside, what with all the grinding bodies and blasting music and smoke machines and sticky floors.
He plops down in a chair, letting his legs sprawl in front of him as he leans back, staring up at the few stars that managed to shine through the light pollution. The metal of the chair is cool on the backs of his thighs, which are exposed by the truly ridiculous shorts he’s wearing.
“I cannot believe I had forgotten about that outfit.” A disembodied voice startles Nick, but then Charlie materializes out of the shadows and sits in the chair next to him.
Nick snorts. “I can’t believe you did, either.” He smirks at Charlie, laughing. “Because I will never forget that shirt.”
He gestures at Charlie’s outfit - obscenely tight black jeans, fingerless gloves, broken-in Doc Martens, and the sheerest, sexiest excuse for a pirate shirt Nick has ever seen in his life. It had nearly sent Nick over the edge five years ago when they’d met, and it was probably going to kill him tonight, too.
Charlie throws his head back and cackles. “God that was the best night,” he says, and Nick grins at him over the table. “I’m so glad Darcy convinced Tao to use her idea. He got stuck wearing our grammar school uniform, which is hilarious, and Darcy’s a caterpillar, and James kinda got lucky and is just in jeans and a t-shirt, and then there’s you. You’re… what, exactly?” His tone is teasing, because Charlie knows precisely what Nick is. Nick hadn’t been able to live the shorts down for five goddamn years.
Nick sighs. “I’m a slutty archaeologist,” he says sullenly. “I won’t lie,” Nick continues, “I’m kind of terrified of what theme they might think up for when it’s my turn.”
Charlie huffs a laugh. “Rugby lads through the centuries. Gender-bent Marvel characters–”
“There’s some interesting fanart out there…” Nick starts, and Charlie blinks at him for a moment.
“Well then, problem solved,” Charlie says, and he’s laughing again, and Nick is, too, and Nick can’t help it. Charlie is his best friend, his person, the love of his life. The words slip out of Nick’s mouth unbidden, and all the more sincere for it.
“Love you, Char,” he says softly.
Charlie reaches out and Nick reaches back, and their fingers twine together, and Charlie squeezes gently.
“Love you too, Nick.”
Worth it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Charlie laughs, and it’s like the shiver of bells in Nick’s mind - beautiful, tingly, stunning. It’s probably his favorite sound in the entire world.
“Are you happy, Char?”
Charlie grins at him, and Nick nearly faints from the glow in his eyes. It’s like Charlie’s lit from within, like he’s about to float away without the tether of the hand in his, and Nick has never seen anything better in his life.
“I’m so fucking happy, Nick.”
Nick smiles sweetly back at Charlie, a smile so tender and genuine that Charlie’s breath catches in his throat for a moment. Nick has been there through everything with him, has been his rock, his support, his biggest cheerleader, and Charlie can’t imagine being without him tonight, either. He’s so fucking grateful they’ve made it to this point together.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Nick says softly, as his eyes well with tears.
“Awwww, c’mere, you giant sap.” Charlie reels Nick in for a hug.
Nick clings to Charlie, holding him so close it feels like they’ve melded together. He buries his face in the space between Charlie’s neck and shoulder for just a moment, letting himself feel the peace he only gets with Charlie.
And then he lets go, and Charlie steps back, still grinning, and takes James’s - his husband’s - hand.
Nick’s tears spill over, and he plays it off as happiness, because he is. Happy, that is. Because this is Charlie - his Charlie, his best friend, his person, the love of his life.
He’s just not that for Charlie.
He moves along the receiving line and into the wedding reception, glancing back for just a moment. James leans down and kisses Charlie’s cheek, and Charlie glows up at him.
Nick smiles.
Worth it.