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Charlie eyes the racks of clothes. He has been on the hunt for three hours now, and if he was honest, he would rather be anywhere else. Shopping in the week leading up to Christmas is not his idea of a good time, but here he is. Surrounded by people, all complaining about how busy it is, all missing the irony that they are contributing to the busyness.
The chaos around him could very easily have overwhelmed all of his senses. The flashing lights decorating the shop fronts, the sheer volume of people packed into the spaces all trying to track down that perfect present, the chatter, the incessant Christmas songs being played for ambience, the scents of cinnamon, ginger and mulled wine drifting around on the breeze – none of them quite complementing one another. It is a lot . But Charlie perseveres. He has to. He would do it for Sarah. He would do anything for Sarah.
Normally, he wouldn’t be here. Every year, he diligently ensures he and Nick are completely prepared for Christmas by the end of November; everyone's presents bought and wrapped, all the food ordered and their delivery date arranged, and by the first weekend of December, the house is fully decorated too. This year, however, Sarah decided to up her game for the Annual Nelson Christmas Party. This year, she has decided there is a dress code, and that code is simply ‘sparkle’. And she told everyone about it only nine days before the 25th.
Of course, neither Charlie nor Nick own clothing that fits with this mandatory theme. Who owns clothes that sparkle? Well, except for Charlie's sequinned jock, but he could hardly deck Sarah's halls wearing just that. So, here Charlie is, on the hunt for an outfit. Or two. One for himself, and one for his absurdly attractive husband. The school where Nick teaches doesn’t break up for Christmas until the 22nd, leaving Nick with very little free time to find anything himself, and so self-employed Charlie is shopping on his own.
As he browses the racks, Charlie is pretty sure he has seen almost every item of clothing in the entire shopping centre, and they all look just the same. At least for men. Clearly, this year, the fashion is polo shirts and chinos. How many variations of ‘smart Christmas polo and chinos’ exist in the world? Because Charlie has seen all of them now. And they are all identical. Nick would, of course, be very happy with this outfit: something plain and muted and rather understated. But that won’t fit with Sarah’s theme. If it did, Charlie wouldn’t be here because Nick could simply pick from the 20 or so versions he already owns.
Charlie knows this whole excursion is probably futile. But he still has one more possibility: A.D. Eista. Not a shop he normally frequents, it's a high-end designer and, quite frankly, out of Charlie and Nick’s usual price range. He isn’t going to hold his breath, if the high street has nothing, why would anywhere else?
Charlie enters the shop. Something feels different to everywhere else he has been today. There are far fewer people here. And the ambient music isn’t Mariah. Thank fuckety fuck. The ambience of the store is understated beauty: softer colours, softer scents, softer sounds. The whole shop is calmer, less aggressively festive, much more his style.
And the clothes!
He’s going to find exactly what he needs. He just knows in his bones as soon as he steps in the door, this is the shop he needs to be in.
As he begins trawling through the items, Charlie tries to imagine Nick wearing each possibility. Silk, satin, cashmere, chiffon, velvet. Charlie’s hands caress each garment, imagining what it would feel like to remove the item from his husband’s body at the end of the night. He lets his fingers flutter over each piece of fabric, deciding what would cling to Nick's firm biceps, what would gently skim over his soft stomach, what would stretch deliciously over his muscular thighs, and what can be ignored on touch alone.
Nope, itchy.
Too dull.
That looks very much like a polo.
Not happening.
We need something with pizzazz.
Maybe this isn’t the shop after all, he considers forlornly, on the verge of giving up.
With a deep sigh, Charlie takes a step towards the back of the space. Something pale blue catches his eye. He pulls it down from the hanger.
It’s a polo – of course it is – but it is also spectacular.
Charlie runs his fingers over the cool, silky fabric, every centimetre embellished with tiny, blue sequins, knowing that he absolutely will be buying this top. He needs to see Nick in it.
The long sleeves will hug his biceps perfectly, and the way it catches the light means it is going to highlight Nick’s glorious pecs. Yes. Charlie is going to buy this for Nick. It does not matter how much it costs. He would sell his left kidney to see Nick in this. Hell, he would sell the right one too. Charlie has to see Nick wearing this.
Charlie heads towards the tills to make his purchase and something else catches his eye. Something a little more subtle, but just as sparkly. Black trousers, a staple of any wardrobe, but these are also covered entirely in sequins. Just black sequins.
Pulling a pair off the hanger, Charlie realises these are high waisted, and, well, they will make Nick’s arse look incredible. Fuck yes, Charlie’s face breaks into a grin. Nick is going to take some persuading, he’s sure, but he’s also sure that Nick will look phenomenal .
Despite a lifetime of insisting he and Nick can never wear matching suits – a sentiment he will continue with for the rest of their lives – Charlie decides that these trousers might be the one exception to the rule. Mostly because he actually really likes them, and he wants them too. Sarah said to sparkle, Charlie is nailing this brief.
Only a top for me to go.
Decision made on Nick’s outfit, Charlie is on the hunt to complete his own. Suddenly, giddily, everything catches his attention. He pulls item after item off the racks, bundling them up in his arms with every intention to take them all to the fitting room to try on. Just as he thinks that he has maybe grabbed one of everything in the entire shop, he sees it. A jumper. A plain black jumper emblazoned with rainbow coloured sequins reading ‘SPARKLY AS FUCK’ across the front. And suddenly, all the other options are obsolete. Charlie wants this jumper. Charlie needs this jumper. And he’s going to wear it every day.
Charlie returns his armfuls of clothes he no longer requires back to their correct places – he’s a menace, not a monster after all – and makes his final purchases. Two pairs of black sequined trousers, one baby blue sequined polo shirt and one sloganed jumper.
Now Charlie has outfits for himself and his husband, he realises he could probably push the boundaries a little further and make everything sparkle. Shoes. Socks. Underwear? Could he convince Nick to wear body glitter? Sparkly make-up? Maybe?
Charlie is back on his mission. A.D. Eista might not sell any of those things, but he’s seen them today already. Two hours, many shops and several carrier bags later, Charlie makes his way home.
✨✨✨
Charlie spends the rest of the week with the shopping bags hidden in the boot of his car, pretending that he has yet to find anything suitable. Whilst he knows Nick will look amazing, he also knows Nick’s reaction to seeing it for the first time will be something along the lines of “For fuck’s sake, Charlie, there is no way I’m wearing that. That’s too much glitter.” So he just needs to leave it until a late enough moment that Nick has no choice but to wear it. And then he will see how good it looks on him and love it. That’s the plan.
“Hey, love?” Nick questions as he returns to the living room carrying two mugs of tea – their third cups of the day. He’s still wearing pyjamas. Christmas mornings are relaxed affairs in the Nelson-Spring house, a stark contrast to the overwhelming chaos of Nick’s extended family meeting at Sarah’s house to celebrate together later in the day. Normally, the rest of the Springs would join them, but this year, Tori and Michael moved to the Netherlands as Michael was offered a contract coaching there, so Jane, Julio and Oliver have gone to spend the Christmas period with them. “Did you ever manage to find something for us to wear for Mum’s sparkle party?”
“Yeah,” Charlie replies from his spot on the sofa, fluffy blanket wrapped around his long body. Nick can’t help but smile at how cuddly his beautiful husband looks, and he can’t help notice a slight hesitation in his voice either. “Ummm… I got something. We should probably start getting ready now or we’ll be late.”
“Mm, okay,” Nick muses, handing Charlie his mug. “I’ll have a shower after this cuppa.” He sits down on the sofa, immediately letting his body snuggle into the side of his husband.
✨✨✨
“Charlie? What the actual fuck is that?” Nick asks as Charlie lays out his outfit on their bed.
“Oh, that? We’re starting an ABBA tribute band.”
“Am I seriously meant to wear this?” Nick picks up the blue polo shirt, and sees thousands of tiny unimpressed Nick’s reflected back at him in the sequins.
“Yeah, today. For the party. You know, ‘ sparkle! ’’” Charlie replies with jazz hands. He’s sounding confident, but internally, he’s hesitant. What if Nick refuses to wear it? It isn’t that big of a deal, but he really would like to see Nick in these clothes. Preferably today for the party, and then he would like to slowly remove the items and see them thrown across their bedroom floor during their own private after party.
“It’s ummm…” Nick falters.
“It’s sparkly.” Charlie nods, eyes wide and chewing on his bottom lip.
Nick looks at his husband, he knows Charlie would never purposefully make him look like a fool, and there’s something in Charlie’s stance that makes it obvious that Charlie loves the outfit, but also makes him think that he’s really nervous that Nick will hate it.
Nick takes a deep breath. “I know Mum said the theme was sparkle, but isn’t this a little… much?”
“You’ll look really good in it, I promise. Just try it on, if you really hate it then you don’t have to wear it. I just… I know it’ll suit you. And you look good in everything. And I know it’s a bit more ‘out there’ than you are used to but—”
“Charlie!” Nick cuts off Charlie’s ramble and wraps him up in a tight hug. “I’ll try it on.” He looks down at his favourite face, still radiating nervous energy, and kisses the tip of Charlie’s nose. He then rests his forehead against Charlie’s, looking into his eyes, trying to reassure him. “I know I wasn’t enthusiastic when I first saw it, but I can tell how much you like it.”
Nick removes his pyjama top, and slides the sequined polo over his head. “It’s kind of like our old PE shirts, don’t you think?”
Charlie snorts. “Just a thousand times more flamboyant.”
“Can you imagine if this had been part of the uniform?”
“Harry Greene would have pitched a fit.”
Nick’s laugh died in his throat as he took in his own image in the bedroom mirror. “Wow! This is… I really like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d never pick it out for myself, but I can see why you picked it for me. Look at how much I shine!” he adds enthusiastically, twisting his body back and forth to allow the sequins to glitter in the changing light.
“So… Do you think you would like to try on the trousers, too?”
“Pass them over. If I’m going to sparkle, I might as well sparkle everywhere!”
Nick slides into the trousers, tucks in his polo and buttons the fly. He looks up to find Charlie with his mouth agape, and his own pair of sparkly trousers only halfway done up.
“What?” Nick asks, eyebrows raised.
“What?” Charlie looks away, cheeks reddening slightly.
“You’re staring.”
“No, I wasn’t!”
“Yeah, you were!”
“Well, I’m allowed. You are my husband.”
“Mmmmm… Yeah, I am.” Nick adds smugly. “Do we have to go today? We could just stay here in our fancy new clothes. By the way,” Nick continues, admiring himself in the mirror once again, “I really like this. I didn’t think I would, but this looks kind of good. Sparkle was a great theme. And I’m going to be the sparkliest!”
Charlie chuckles at Nick’s new found enthusiasm. “Idiot,” he adds affectionately.
Charlie continues getting himself ready, trousers, plain t-shirt – he argues that it is going under his jumper which will not be removed all day so it doesn’t matter – and jumper.
“That looks so good. But I’m sparklier, even if you are ‘ sparkly as fuck’ , I’m winning!”
“I uh… I got some other bits if you wanted more sparkles? I know you’ve never really been a makeup person, but I have body glitter, and glitter eye-liner too.” Charlie worries his lower lip between his teeth. “And nail polish, but you would have to take that outfit off to apply it, there is no way I’m letting you smudge wet nails on your clothes.”
Almost two hours later, the men are ready to leave their house. Glitter nails are dry, eyes lined, cheekbones are highlighted. Nick has cracked several jokes about being a Twilight vampire, squirmed whilst complaining that Charlie is going to poke him in the eye with a glitter mascara wand and then applied even more glitter to his own eyelids. And temples. And cheeks. And neck. There’s some on his forehead. And a bit on his nose. And even some on his ears. It’s somewhat messier than Charlie had been intending, like when a three-year-old gets hold of makeup and applies everything liberally. But it works, and it’s endearingly cute on Nick.
Charlie, on the other hand, has created an understated under-eye rhinestone design. He’s drawn a solid line of black glitter to accentuate his lower lashes, with droplets of glitter falling down towards his cheekbones from a sparkling gem line under his eyes in an homage to Harry Styles. Nick thinks Charlie has never looked so good, and pauses to kiss him on every step down from their bedroom to the front door, Charlie getting increasingly more exasperated every time Nick turns around.
✨✨✨
Nick and Charlie walk into Nick’s childhood home only an hour and a half later than intended. They are greeted first by the dogs: Nellie standing calmly waiting until both men have removed their shoes before nosing into Charlie’s side for head rubs like the good girl she is, and Henry bouncing and yapping excitedly, insisting he gets first cuddles from his favourite humans. The moment Nick removes his right shoe, Henry seizes it by the laces and proudly carries it off to hide it somewhere fantastic. Last time Nick was here he left half an hour later than planned, having finally located his left shoe in the bread bin, somehow (he suspects that maybe Henry and his mum are in cahoots).
Henry’s excited barking alerts many of the party guests to their arrival, and Sarah finds her way over before they can even remove their coats. Not that Nick has any intention of removing his coat by the door without an audience. Really, he wanted to remove his coat dramatically on the Drag Race main stage, under strobe lighting, to Geri Halliwell’s ‘Look At Me,’ but he'll settle for the lights of the living room Christmas tree he supposes.
Nick wraps his mum in a hug. “Looking good, Mum,” he says, eyeing Sarah’s ensemble. Sarah is wearing a deep red woollen jumper with glitter threads running throughout and a pair of black jeans bedazzled with a snowstorm of tiny silver rhinestones. She has painted her nails in a glittery red, and finished the look with dangly earrings and a glittering tiara.
“Thanks, Nicky. You… uh, really went for it with the glitter, I see.” She reaches up to gently touch his face.
“Yeah, Charlie did my make-up.”
“Ahem! Charlie did not do that . Charlie did eyeliner, highlighter and nails. You did the glitter explosion all on your own,” Charlie jokes as he removes his own coat. “Go on, dork. Show everyone your entire outfit. I can see you practically bouncing, ready for the big reveal.” Charlie smiles softly at Nick, as Nick’s grin widens.
Nick moves to the centre of the room, clearing his throat loudly until everyone stops talking and looks at him. As they should, thank you very much. He slowly unzips his coat, and shrugs it off his shoulders. “Ta da!” he exclaims, with a twirl, letting his jacket drop to the floor. He stands, waiting for his round of applause and wolf whistles, pouting when he receives a placating “lovely, dear” from an aunt.
Charlie shakes his head and laughs. “For fuck’s sake, you’re ridiculous!” he says, picking up Nick’s coat and hanging it up with his own.
“Ridiculously sparkly!”
Sarah looks at the two men, taking in both their outfits, “You two certainly went with the theme! You look fabulous, boys.”
“Yes,” Nick begins, “but I look the best, right? I’m the sparkliest!”
Sarah laughs at her adult son’s child-like excitement, pulling both into a hug before all three head into the kitchen for drinks and general party socialising.
Nick spends the next hour or so catching up with family members that he hasn’t seen all year, and surreptitiously eyeing everyone else’s chosen outfit. He’s invented a complex ranking system, scoring clothing on glitter colour combinations, reflectiveness, durability and spikiness. Anyone wearing just one sparkly item is in the bottom tier, and if someone doesn’t fling light around the room like a glitterball, then they haven’t tried hard enough. Those leaving a trail of glitter and sequins are scoring very low, and if anyone is wearing sequins so sharp that they make hugs uncomfortable then they are basically out of the running for the sparkle contest. He’s only had to disqualify one person for sheer laziness. Wearing a tinsel scarf over jeans and a navy blue jumper is fucking insulting, Uncle-Tony-who-isn’t-really-an-uncle.
Cousin Tillie has made a valiant effort. She is wearing a gold, sequin wrap dress, but she’s paired it with plain black tights, and hasn’t even got anything sparkly in her hair. Nick gives her high marks for her dress, but the overall glitter aesthetic score is low. And Auntie Diane, despite wearing a relatively simple green velvet dress (with no sequins), has adorned herself with every oversized piece of costume jewellery that she owns, so she not only sparkles, but jangles as she moves. Some cousins have come in sequined blazers – although they start high in the rankings, they soon drop down the scoreboard as the temperature in the house rises and they remove their outer layer to reveal plain outfits underneath. Other cousins are wearing sequined Christmas jumpers, but almost everyone has only worn sparkles on their top half. Grandma and Gramps have, adorably, coordinated their outfits: Grandma is wearing a silver sequin, short sleeve top over a black satin skirt, and Gramps is wearing a plain black shirt and trousers with silver sequin braces and bow tie.
Nick is thoroughly enjoying secretly judging everyone’s outfits. He is aware that the sparkle contest exists only in his mind, but he’s overjoyed with where he ranks. It’s unanimous, Nick declares himself the winner. He is number one, absolute winner, the Sparkle Supreme, no one else stood a chance, because look. At. Him. He rewards himself on his win with a glass of sparkling wine – well done, Mum, on really sticking to the theme – and a checkout of his reflection in the gloss kitchen units, and goes to find Charlie to let him know the good news.
Nick finds Charlie in the living room, standing behind the sofa, a huge toothy smile on his face as he watches a rather enthusiastic game of sparkle charades. “Char,” Nick whispers, wrapping his arms around Charlie’s waist from behind and nuzzling into the back of his neck. “You look so good in this.” He presses a light kiss just below Charlie’s ear and slides a hand under Charlie’s jumper, letting his fingers splay across the smooth, warm skin below. “Hottest person here by a mile,” he adds, a rich, sultry tone to his voice.
“Well, I’d fucking hope you think that, Nicholas. Since you are in fact related to everyone else in the house.” Charlie smirks, and turns in Nick’s arms to kiss him softly.
Nick keeps Charlie firmly wrapped in his arms, but pulls back from the kiss, a look of disgust on his face. “Well, that is a horrific thought you just put in my head.”
“Sorry,” Charlie giggles. “What was it you were saying about the hottest person here?”
“Nope, can’t think of anything else now beyond being related to everyone here.”
“Not even about how good both our arses look in these trousers?” Charlie raises his eyebrows in a flirtatious manner and slides his hands down to squeeze Nick’s bum, and Nick can suddenly think of quite a lot of things beyond his relatives. Things involving pressing and pushing and pulling and sliding and… Wait, can you get glittery lube?
“Yes. That. Those are words. I want to say words about how great your butt looks in sequins. I'd also quite like to see how good it feels under sequins...” Nick’s fingers toy with the waistband of Charlie’s sequined trousers.
“Maybe we should leave the party soon and head home?” Charlie suggests, as a thrill courses through him at Nick's touch.
“We could,” Nick purrs into his ear. “Or we could sneak off to my old room?”
“Nicholas Nelson, all your family are here!” Charlie hisses in shock. Nick kisses Charlie's neck, nipping slightly in a way that makes Charlie hiss in an entirely different manner.
“We always escape parties to hang out with each other. And it’s not like it would be the first time we’ve snuck off to fool around at Mum’s Christmas party...”
Charlie weighs his options. Get caught by Sarah with his pants down again , or make polite chat with his family-in-law with a raging boner. He looks down at his bulging shimmer stick and then around the room. No one is looking. Uncle Tony is too busy charading what is clearly Lil Nas X’s Satan lapdance, but no one else can tell what he’s on about. How does he even know what that is to charade it?
“This sounds like a plan. You go first, I’ll meet you there in two minutes,” Charlie suggests, nudging Nick playfully towards the hall.
The two minute wait feels like two hours to Nick. He looks around his old room for any early signs that a glitter fetish was in his future. He sees nothing sparkly at all, apart from his old fairy lights and one metallic rugby trophy that catches the light and shines just right. Nick walks to his bed and gently caresses teenage Charlie's face on the photobooth photo that still hangs there, fused to the wall with ancient Blu Tack. If young Charlie had turned up for their beach date covered in glitter, young Nick would not have known what to do. But adult Nick knows exactly what he wants to do to a glittery adult Charlie and he wants to do it now.
He finally hears Charlie climb the stairs, his footfalls light and unmistakable. Nick reaches a glittery hand out of his bedroom door, urgently pulling Charlie inside and closing the door completely. Nick launches himself against Charlie, pushing Charlie’s body against the solid wood of the door, using a hand to keep his head from thwacking against the hard surface. Charlie automatically wraps his arms around Nick's neck and grins as their lips crash together.
The feeling of Charlie's smile against his lips is familiar to Nick, they both know how to read one another perfectly after so many years of practise, but it never gets old. Kissing Charlie is one of Nick’s top three activities. The other two also involve Charlie, and he'll get to those in a minute or two. Nick cups Charlie’s face, a thumb tracing down his angular jaw. God, this man! Charlie’s hands drop lower, pausing at Nick’s waistband, a silent question that Nick replies in the affirmative with a desperate whine. Charlie deftly undoes Nick’s flies, their lips never parting from one another. Charlie’s tongue licks into Nick’s mouth, as he repositions them so Nick is leaning against the door. He detaches his lips from Nick's and falls to his knees in one swift motion.
“Fuck!” Nick whispers. Seeing Charlie like this will never cease to make him instantly hard. Charlie’s hands reach up, caressing the smooth sequins on Nick’s polo. Nick is no longer thinking, just moving on autopilot, he pulls his top off and flings it across the room. It might be beautiful, but Nick needs to feel Charlie’s skin against his. Nick’s fingers tangle into Charlie’s hair and tilt his head back slightly so he can stare directly into his aquamarine eyes. He watches as Charlie licks his lips, his gaze dropping from Nick’s face to his tented boxers, a patch of pre-come soaking the front.
Nick nods again and Charlie frees Nick’s cock from the confines of his underwear. Charlie’s lips shine with a mixture of saliva and glitter lip gloss. He slowly licks a stripe up the underside of Nick’s shaft until he reaches the head. Eyes still wide, staring up into Nick’s own blown out pupils, he swirls his tongue over Nick’s sensitive slit, lapping the glistening liquid beading there.
“Please,” Nick pleads, eyes wide and desperate. Charlie smiles and envelops Nick's length. Nick feels himself hit the back of Charlie’s throat and he moans quietly, enjoying the sensation. Charlie hums around Nick, savouring the taste and comforting weight on his tongue.
Nick’s head thunks back against the door, his eyes closing as he focuses on Charlie’s movements, on the warmth of his mouth, how Charlie’s fingers dig into his hip as Charlie pulls him deeper. Charlie's other hand cups Nick’s balls, rolling and tugging slightly, eliciting another involuntary moan to break free from Nick. Pleasure pulses through his veins with every beat of his heart. Nick can feel the heat building in his lower abdomen, thighs quivering. He bites his lower lip trying to stop himself from screaming Charlie’s name and alerting everyone downstairs what they are up to.
“Wait,” Nick chokes out and Charlie immediately stops his movements, sliding Nick’s hard cock out of his mouth completely. “I don’t want to come yet,” pants Nick. “Can I fuck you?”
Charlie smirks up at him.”I thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs playfully.
Nick reaches out his hand to help Charlie up from the ground. The moment he’s standing, Nick presses a hard kiss into his lips, pulling Charlie’s body flush to his own. He reaches down, hands sliding over Charlie’s pert bum, giving his cheeks a squeeze and continuing on to Charlie’s thighs. In one quick, well practised, move, he lifts Charlie, Charlie’s legs automatically wrapping around Nick’s waist, even though his entire body weight is supported by Nick’s strong rugby arms.
They continue to kiss, tongues battling, gentle moans escaping, as Nick begins to walk them towards the bed.
It’s on his third step that Nick realises his mistake. His trousers are still around his ankles, causing him to stumble. As he drops to the floor, his knees taking the initial impact, a thought flashes through his mind about how this wasn’t the reason he was expecting to be pants down, on his knees at that moment. Rugby reflexes kick in, he wraps a protective arm around Charlie and rolls the two of them so Nick takes the brunt of the fall.
“Ow, shit, fuck!” Nick grumbles. “Are you okay?” he asks Charlie sheepishly, looking down at their sprawled bodies.
He can feel Charlie shaking on his chest before the sound of his laughter breaks the silence. “Yeah, but we made quite a racket. There’s no way that was unnoticed. You might want to—-”
The door handle lowers, but the door doesn’t open. The men look from the door handle to one another and back again in confusion.
Then they hear it. A tiny knock, followed by Sarah’s slightly wine slurred voice.
“Are you two okay in there? Do I need to call an ambulance? Are you dressed enough for me to come in?”
Nick lets out a breath, he knows the giggles are building inside his husband once again.
“Yes. No. Wait!” Nick frantically pulls up his boxers and trousers. “Yes, come in. We’re fine, no ambulance needed.” Nick’s cheeks flush as Sarah opens the door fully, hand covering her eyes. Laughter bursts from Charlie, and he pulls himself into a sitting position, knees to his chest, in order to hide the rapidly deflating, but still incredibly obvious, boner.
“Oh my god, Mum. We’re decent, you can look!” Nick’s embarrassment builds at Sarah’s entrance.
Sarah keeps her hand over her face, but opens her fingers, keeping eyes screwed shut. “Are you sure, I don’t really want to relive your A-level results day.”
Charlie squeals in laughter, he loves it when tipsy Sarah starts to drop her filter. “I promise, Sarah, nothing like that.” Sarah opens her eyes, peeking through her fingers. Charlie continues, “I think we would all rather forget that ever happened.”
The Nelsons hum in agreement, Nick burying his face into Charlie’s shoulder.
“Do I want to know what caused that house shaking bang? I’m guessing it’s related to you two both being in a heap on the floor?”
“Nick tripped over and dropped me,” Charlie says as if it is a normal occurrence.
“Is that when he lost his top?” Sarah asks gleefully, fully aware of the type of activity they were up to. She’s had to make a hasty retreat from the house on several occasions throughout the years since they started dating, or slam doors and bang wooden spoons loudly on pots and pans to remind them that she is both at home, and able to hear them. She can see the mortification of their current situation clear on her son’s face and she intends to tease him mercilessly.
“Nah, he stripped that off and threw it somewhere earlier.” Charlie grins.
“Charlie!” Nick’s eyes widen and the blush spreads further down his chest.
“It’s the other side of the bean bag. Do you want me to pass it to you?” Sarah takes a couple of inebriated steps across the room towards the garment.
“Oh my god! No, Mum!” Nick squeaks. “I’ll get it when you’ve gone!”
“Oh, Nicky, darling boy. I don’t think I can go anywhere,” Sarah giggles.
Nick eyes her trying to work out why she couldn’t leave. He would really like her to leave.
“You might be hurt!” Sarah continues. “Plus, I’m having too much fun right now to go!”
Charlie erupts once more into hysterical laughter. Nick supposes they should get up from the floor, but he hasn’t done up his trousers and he’s almost certain they will fall down if he tries to move, and that would mean his mum would be guaranteed to get an eyeful of the patch of pre-come and any lingering bulge too – not that that should be an issue as Nick is pretty sure that all the blood in his body is currently in his cheeks.
There’s another tentative knock at the bedroom door. “Is everyone okay?” a voice calls out.
“Oh god,” Nick groans.
“You can come in!” Sarah lets the voice know. The door opens to reveal a dozen concerned faces. Auntie Diane has her phone in her hand, ready to call the emergency services if needed. Cousin Leo also has a phone in his hand, although he is looking on less with concern, Nick notices, and more with unbridled glee – the camera of Leo’s phone is pointing directly at Nick and Charlie, so he’s most likely streaming this whole thing on Instagram live.
A few people push into the bedroom, spilling out to allow more onlookers a space to gawp. A few more heads appear over shoulders, peering into the room. Questions of “What’s going on?” and “What’s everyone looking at?” can be heard from disembodied voices, clearly relatives that aren’t lucky enough to be at the front of the pack. Nick wanted to be the centre of attention when he arrived, but this wasn’t quite the way he imagined it would go.
Auntie Diane breaks the awkward tension. “You um… have a bit of glitter on your uh…”
“Everywhere!” Sarah finishes with a joyous cackle. “You have sparkles everywhere!”
Charlie's jumper is real. I would like one.
