‘A total lie, but that’s more like it.I knew he was in there still.’
‘Who?’Christopher frowns in a way that scrunches his nose up.
‘Bitchy Christopher.Bitchstopher.’
‘Do not call me that.I do not need more nicknames.’
‘Fascinating.I’ll be sure to pick up that train of thought at some point, if I don’t forget it.Anyway, tis the season and all that, put on a Christmas movie if you’d like,’ he says, scratching the cat behind its ears.
‘Is that not too close to work for you?’
‘Only if you insist on putting on one with me in it, which I rather you didn’t.’
Christopher hesitates.‘Are you going to judge me?’
‘Based on what you pick?’
Christopher nods, remote poised in mid-air.
Slipping a hand out from the blanket, he pats Christopher on the arm and says, ‘Probably.’
He chuckles.‘You’re the worst.’
After a few loud objections, they settle onSingle All the Wayfor the Jennifer Coolidge of it all.Definitely.No other reason.
Nash feels the heavy lure of sleep flood his bones.He shuffles in his seat, and blinks in and out of a nap.
Much later, he wakes during the ‘third act argument’ – always his favourite bit – to find he is curled up against Christopher.He breathes in the smell of ginger and cinnamon which seems to have impregnated itself in Christopher’s skin.
‘Do you need anything?’Christopher whispers, not taking his eyes off the screen.
And Nash could answer him.He could say all the things that he’s thinking, tell Christopher all the needs in his heart.All the things he wants right now.
Like, to pull Christopher’s arm around him, and curl up more deeply against him.
To kiss him again, with less fury, but no less desire.
Or how terrifying it is that Christopher has been so gentle with him tonight, when that’s all he’s ever wanted from someone.
But he’s too afraid to voice any of it.So he keeps his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.
After a moment, Christopher’s attention drifts back to the film, and without a word, he wraps his arm around Nash.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Christopher
Rather than wake him with breakfast, Christopher lets Nash sleep in.Even after his nap on the couch, Nash still looked bushed last night, and so Christopher had led him to bed, helped him undress down to his underwear and tucked him in.It was a tender moment.So different from the night before, when they had spilled out of their clothes, tearing fabric from each other’s skins.
This was different.This was careful.Gentle.
When he woke, Nash was curled up in a little ball against him, completely dead to the world; his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he dreamed.Christopher had been worried that moving would wake him, but Nash didn’t even move when the sun rose and bright light poured in through the window.
Outside, there’s a fresh dusting of snow but the gloomy clouds are long gone.It’s sunny and bright, his favourite kind of weather.
It’s practically lunch by the time Christopher decides to start the day proper.
It’s probably safe to leave Nash sleeping, but he doesn’t want to just disappear so he writes a little note and leaves it by his bed.Ideally, he’d text him but, one, he’s worried that might wake him, and two, he doesn’t even have Nash’s number.A kind of wild lapse in admin given the last few days.
