The pink of Christopher’s bottom lip is curled under his front teeth ever so slightly, and Nash thinks, once again, about touching it.About kissing it again.
His body is still disobeying him, even if he wanted to.Not that coming out of a seizure is exactly the time when he wants to instigate a make-out session.
‘Nash?’Christopher calls, probably not for the first time.His voice is a soft, guiding light.Nash wants to follow it.He wants to wake up.
He tries to say hi, but he knows the sound that comes out isn’t quite right – his tongue and lips and brain have not yet linked back up, which feels especially rude when Christopher is literally kneeling before himlooking like that.
The cat hops off his lap, and curls down between the two of them, seemingly satisfied that he’s awake enough now.
‘Hey.Are you back?’
Nash nods.His body shakes slightly with the adrenalin and misfiring, everything a little disconnected.To his embarrassment, a few tears run down his cheek.
‘Can I touch you?’Christopher asks, which makes the tears run faster.
Without another word, Christopher wraps a quilted blanket from the back of the couch around him.Then he takes Nash’s face in his hands, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs.
‘It’s okay, you’re safe.’
Fucking hell.This is not what Nash needs right now.He does not need Christopher to whip out his goddamn humanity and kindness just when Nash is at his most vulnerable.This sort of behaviour could make you fall in love with a man.
‘Shall I get you a drink and a snack now?In fact, I’ll just get it now, so then you have it if you want it.You don’t have to have them now.I’ll just be a few moments.’
Nash’s smile is almost certainly wobbly and uneven, and he manages the smallest tilt of his head in a nod through the heavy thickness that still settles in his brain.
As Christopher leaves, Nash runs through his senses.He rubs his hand on the soft cushion of the couch – though this is interrupted by the cat who insists he is a much better thing to touch, pushing his little head right into the soft pad of Nash’s palm.The cat smells likewarm, a scent he can’t narrow down but knows isn’t one conjured by his own brain at least.Plus, he can still smell the lingering flavours of Christmas dinner on his clothes and hair.
In his lap drops a Snickers.
‘I know you said it didn’thaveto be a Snickers, but when you mentioned it I thought I’d make sure we had some in.I hope that it fits the bill and – sorry I’m rambling.’
Nash’s heart catches on theweof that sentence.How is it possible that this man can be so thoughtful and kind while also still being an enormous dork?Or is it Nash he’s reducing to dork status?
Christopher drags the coffee table closer and sets down a glass of water and a steaming cup of tea on it.He’s still muttering about the Snickers.‘To be honest, I’m not even sure if they’re the same here as in the States or Canada, but hopefully it’s the kind of thing you need right now.Lots of energy.’
He sits down on the couch on the other side of the cat, which seems to have taken up permanent occupation of the middle cushion.
‘If you’d rather—’
Nash stills Christopher’s babbling with a hand on his arm.‘This is perfect,’ he says, each word heavy on his tongue and leaving a residual ache in his brain.
‘Do you want some quiet?Or I can help you to bed?’
Nash shakes his head very slowly and then regrets it when his brain swirls like it’s in a pot of stew.‘Stay.Let’s watch something.’He tucks his legs up underneath him, sprawling a little into the middle cushion, but the cat accepts the intrusion and curls up into his side.
‘You should drink some water,’ Christopher urges.
His hands shake slightly but a couple of slow sips later, he feels a bit more himself.‘Thanks.’
Christopher gets up and refills the glass from the tap.He hovers, clearly looking for something else to do.
‘Christopher, come sit down.I’m fine.’
He means to say this in his usual snarky way.Sit down, you giant oaf, and stop stomping around me,you’re frightening the horses.
But no, instead it comes out as a soft plea.And possibly one of the first times Nash has called him Christopher instead of Calloway.It makes him feel even more vulnerable.
It works, either way, and Christopher sits down on the couch, narrowly avoiding both Nash’s toes and the cat.
