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magicalrocketshipsEASY AS ALL THAT INTERLUDE (NICK/HARRY)
Originally posted here.
So, before I started writing Forever and a Night, the actual sequel to Easy As All That, I started writing this story instead, before I realised I just wanted Forever and a Night to be Harry’s birthday. Here’s a Nick POV interlude, that happens after the end of Easy As All That, and a few weeks before Forever and a Night.
Interlude
Gillian’s text came half way through the evening. Nick was having a cigarette outside the bowling alley, and vaguely keeping an eye on Harry through the sliding doors.
Move to London, she said. Seriously. Anna’s going to Canada next month, there’s a room in the flat going spare. I miss you xx
Harry was at the counter returning his bowling shoes, standing on his tiptoes, leaning forward on his elbows, Liam’s arm around his shoulders. He was laughing, face angled towards Liam, smile wide. He turned around then, clearly searching Nick out. His smile got wider.
Nick took another drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out with the toe of his Converse.
Maybe, he texted Gillian, as he watched Harry say good night to Liam. We’ll see. Miss you too.
“Nicholas,” Harry said, coming over and bumping his foot into Nick’s by way of greeting.
“Harold,” Nick curled his finger into Harry’s belt loop. Harry just grinned at him, and refused to move closer. “Did you win?”
“You’ve seen me bowl.”
Nick had. He’d seen gazelles with more bowling skills. The two of them were equally matched when it came to anything that required any kind of sporting prowess. “Are the others still inside?”
“They’re having another game,” Harry said. “You still up for going into go into town?”
“There’s a Malibu and Coke with my name on it somewhere in this town.” Or two. Or three. Sometimes being with Harry made him want the whole fucking bottle.
“Excellent,” Harry slid his hand into Nick’s.
Nick didn’t look down. He couldn’t. This was so stupid. They’d been doing this for months, and it never stopped. His heart kept pounding. His palms kept sweating. He thought about Harry when he woke up and when he went to sleep and at every point in between.
This boy. This fucking boy.
Harry stood on his tiptoes and leaned in to kiss Nick on the cheek.
Nick didn’t pull him closer and cup Harry’s face in his hands and kiss him until he didn’t have any breath left in his body, so he counted it as a win, overall. He smiled instead, and bumped his shoulder into Harry’s. “Come on, Harold. Let’s go paint that town red.”
“Why red?” Harry asked. “Why not, like, green? Or yellow? Or mauve?”
“Teal,” Nick suggested, as they walked towards the main road, still holding hands. “Let’s paint this town a nice shade of off-white.”
“Let’s paint it beige.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so,” Harry said. “You can’t beat beige.”
“No,” Nick agreed. “You can’t. Let’s go paint this town beige.”
Harry laughed at that, eyes bright. Nick couldn’t look away.
This boy, who held Nick’s heart in his hands and didn’t even know it. This fucking boy.
~//~
“So,” Harry said later, when they were back at Nick’s flat after the pubs had closed, and Harry was making himself a cup of tea in Nick’s kitchen. “It’s my birthday soon.”
“Yes,” Nick said, as if he could have forgotten. Eighteen. “You got any idea what you want to do for it yet?”
Harry dumped the used teabags on the side and reached past Nick for the milk. He shot Nick a glance. “A few, yep.”
Nick bumped his foot against Harry’s, once, twice. “You going to share them, or do I need to engage my mind reading skills?”
“You’ve got mind reading skills?”
“Yep. Mad fucking ones.” He touched his fingertips to his temples and closed his eyes. “Right now you’re thinking that what you really want to do is pass me that cup of tea, and check the cupboard for biscuits.”
Harry pressed his mouth to Nick’s, hand cupping his cheek.
Nick swallowed down a breath, and didn’t open his eyes.
“Nick—“
Nick shook his head. He opened his eyes. Harry was right there, gaze bright. He tilted his chin up, just a little, just enough. They’d been playing this game for months. He closed the distance between them, only changing direction at the last moment, his kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Christ, Harry.”
“Why won’t you,” Harry said. It wasn’t a question. Harry knew the answer as well as Nick did. Nick had told him enough times. He was too old and Harry was too young, and it didn’t matter how they felt, because that was the truth. “I know you want me.”
“I want you to be a fucking adult,” Nick leaned forward, his forehead to Harry’s cheek. It didn’t matter that it was legal; he wanted it to be right.
“I’ll be eighteen soon.”
Yeah. “I know.” He slid a hand into the small of Harry’s back, feeling him tremble beneath his fingertips. He plucked at the hem of his shirt. Christ, he wanted. The age difference wouldn’t be any smaller with Harry’s birthday, but maybe it would make a difference to the voice in Nick’s head which kept telling him no.
Harry kept stroking Nick’s cheek with his thumb. “Liam wants to throw me a birthday party.”
“That’s a good idea,” Nick said. He should pull away, take his cup of tea, lead the way into the living room, put the telly on and get some actual distance between him and Harry. Instead Harry was stepping closer, his arms going around Nick’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of Nick’s head. Nick swallowed, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, and pressing his cheek to Harry’s chest.
“Liam wanted to know if you’d planned anything. For my birthday, you know.”
“Nothing that’s better than his party, I’m pretty sure.” He had to pull away. He had to.
The middle of the night was always the hardest to say no in.
“All right,” Harry said. “I’ll tell him to arrange something, then.”
“Yeah,” Nick pulled back. “Sounds good. That tea’s going to be cold, you know.”
“Can’t have that.” Harry stepped back, out of Nick’s embrace. He lost himself in one of Nick’s cupboards for a moment, rooting about. The biscuits weren’t in there, but Nick didn’t tell him not to look. He needed a moment too.
“Here,” Nick stood up and opened the cupboard by the fridge. He came out with half a packet of ginger biscuits. He held them out for Harry to take, and Harry took advantage of the moment to sneak under Nick’s arm and press himself to Nick’s side.
“I love you,” Harry says, into Nick’s skin, and Nick loves him right back; he just can’t say it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to. He just feels it, feels it with every part of him. He loves him. He just can’t tell him.
Originally posted here.
So, before I started writing Forever and a Night, the actual sequel to Easy As All That, I started writing this story instead, before I realised I just wanted Forever and a Night to be Harry’s birthday. Here’s a Nick POV interlude, that happens after the end of Easy As All That, and a few weeks before Forever and a Night.
Interlude
Gillian’s text came half way through the evening. Nick was having a cigarette outside the bowling alley, and vaguely keeping an eye on Harry through the sliding doors.
Move to London, she said. Seriously. Anna’s going to Canada next month, there’s a room in the flat going spare. I miss you xx
Harry was at the counter returning his bowling shoes, standing on his tiptoes, leaning forward on his elbows, Liam’s arm around his shoulders. He was laughing, face angled towards Liam, smile wide. He turned around then, clearly searching Nick out. His smile got wider.
Nick took another drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out with the toe of his Converse.
Maybe, he texted Gillian, as he watched Harry say good night to Liam. We’ll see. Miss you too.
“Nicholas,” Harry said, coming over and bumping his foot into Nick’s by way of greeting.
“Harold,” Nick curled his finger into Harry’s belt loop. Harry just grinned at him, and refused to move closer. “Did you win?”
“You’ve seen me bowl.”
Nick had. He’d seen gazelles with more bowling skills. The two of them were equally matched when it came to anything that required any kind of sporting prowess. “Are the others still inside?”
“They’re having another game,” Harry said. “You still up for going into go into town?”
“There’s a Malibu and Coke with my name on it somewhere in this town.” Or two. Or three. Sometimes being with Harry made him want the whole fucking bottle.
“Excellent,” Harry slid his hand into Nick’s.
Nick didn’t look down. He couldn’t. This was so stupid. They’d been doing this for months, and it never stopped. His heart kept pounding. His palms kept sweating. He thought about Harry when he woke up and when he went to sleep and at every point in between.
This boy. This fucking boy.
Harry stood on his tiptoes and leaned in to kiss Nick on the cheek.
Nick didn’t pull him closer and cup Harry’s face in his hands and kiss him until he didn’t have any breath left in his body, so he counted it as a win, overall. He smiled instead, and bumped his shoulder into Harry’s. “Come on, Harold. Let’s go paint that town red.”
“Why red?” Harry asked. “Why not, like, green? Or yellow? Or mauve?”
“Teal,” Nick suggested, as they walked towards the main road, still holding hands. “Let’s paint this town a nice shade of off-white.”
“Let’s paint it beige.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so,” Harry said. “You can’t beat beige.”
“No,” Nick agreed. “You can’t. Let’s go paint this town beige.”
Harry laughed at that, eyes bright. Nick couldn’t look away.
This boy, who held Nick’s heart in his hands and didn’t even know it. This fucking boy.
~//~
“So,” Harry said later, when they were back at Nick’s flat after the pubs had closed, and Harry was making himself a cup of tea in Nick’s kitchen. “It’s my birthday soon.”
“Yes,” Nick said, as if he could have forgotten. Eighteen. “You got any idea what you want to do for it yet?”
Harry dumped the used teabags on the side and reached past Nick for the milk. He shot Nick a glance. “A few, yep.”
Nick bumped his foot against Harry’s, once, twice. “You going to share them, or do I need to engage my mind reading skills?”
“You’ve got mind reading skills?”
“Yep. Mad fucking ones.” He touched his fingertips to his temples and closed his eyes. “Right now you’re thinking that what you really want to do is pass me that cup of tea, and check the cupboard for biscuits.”
Harry pressed his mouth to Nick’s, hand cupping his cheek.
Nick swallowed down a breath, and didn’t open his eyes.
“Nick—“
Nick shook his head. He opened his eyes. Harry was right there, gaze bright. He tilted his chin up, just a little, just enough. They’d been playing this game for months. He closed the distance between them, only changing direction at the last moment, his kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Christ, Harry.”
“Why won’t you,” Harry said. It wasn’t a question. Harry knew the answer as well as Nick did. Nick had told him enough times. He was too old and Harry was too young, and it didn’t matter how they felt, because that was the truth. “I know you want me.”
“I want you to be a fucking adult,” Nick leaned forward, his forehead to Harry’s cheek. It didn’t matter that it was legal; he wanted it to be right.
“I’ll be eighteen soon.”
Yeah. “I know.” He slid a hand into the small of Harry’s back, feeling him tremble beneath his fingertips. He plucked at the hem of his shirt. Christ, he wanted. The age difference wouldn’t be any smaller with Harry’s birthday, but maybe it would make a difference to the voice in Nick’s head which kept telling him no.
Harry kept stroking Nick’s cheek with his thumb. “Liam wants to throw me a birthday party.”
“That’s a good idea,” Nick said. He should pull away, take his cup of tea, lead the way into the living room, put the telly on and get some actual distance between him and Harry. Instead Harry was stepping closer, his arms going around Nick’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of Nick’s head. Nick swallowed, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, and pressing his cheek to Harry’s chest.
“Liam wanted to know if you’d planned anything. For my birthday, you know.”
“Nothing that’s better than his party, I’m pretty sure.” He had to pull away. He had to.
The middle of the night was always the hardest to say no in.
“All right,” Harry said. “I’ll tell him to arrange something, then.”
“Yeah,” Nick pulled back. “Sounds good. That tea’s going to be cold, you know.”
“Can’t have that.” Harry stepped back, out of Nick’s embrace. He lost himself in one of Nick’s cupboards for a moment, rooting about. The biscuits weren’t in there, but Nick didn’t tell him not to look. He needed a moment too.
“Here,” Nick stood up and opened the cupboard by the fridge. He came out with half a packet of ginger biscuits. He held them out for Harry to take, and Harry took advantage of the moment to sneak under Nick’s arm and press himself to Nick’s side.
“I love you,” Harry says, into Nick’s skin, and Nick loves him right back; he just can’t say it. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to. He just feels it, feels it with every part of him. He loves him. He just can’t tell him.
