No Time To Question The Choices I Make
Ollie’s Good NightDisclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Ngozi Ukazu’s Check Please! and some quotes from Saturday Night Life, and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All other situations and plot developments are mine.
Summary: Ollie’s night gets a whole lot better.
Takes place after ‘Dex’s Favourite Show’.
Author’s Note: Happy Halloween! Third in a series. Possible out-of-characterness and unbeta’d.
Comments and constructive criticism are always welcomed.
Published: 31 October 2022
Rating: T
The music is deafening, half the working lights are different colours, the floor is sticky, the air is humid, and Wicky is looking even more attractive than usual. It’s not fair-nobody should look attractive in such a cheap and tacky suit, but Wicky’s managing it. It’s terribly distracting.
And Ollie really shouldn’t be distracted. He pulled the short straw and is on Nursey Patrol, so he has to make sure the defenceman doesn’t do anything too stupid.
Nursey Patrol is never fun, but Wicky checks in regularly with Ollie, so it’s not as bad as it could be. Also, this time, Nursey seems content to stay mostly in one spot and wax drunken thoughts about whatever comes into his head.
Right now, his current topic is Dex’s Lurch costume. “I mean,” he slurs, waving a hand around, “Who’d’ve thunk? He was-he was gunna be Wednesday…but…braids. Didn’t wanna my ‘Tisch. Said he…said he wasn’t enough to be ‘Tisch.”
Ollie-who is starting to suspect Nursey’s feelings for his defensive partner are more complex than the freshman realises-only makes a non-committal sound and tries to get Nursey to drink a little more water.
“Dex is really poor. Like, really poor. Mud poor. Dirt poor. Not even cement poor, but dirt poor.” Nursey’s chin bobs up and down like a bobblehead. “’Swhy he made his costume. From scratch. And…I dunno.” He perks up. “But did you see C’s costume? Totally ‘swawesome! These costumes were his idea. He came up with it and everything.”
Ollie personally thinks Dex’s costume is best out of the Frogs, but he’s not going to get into a fight with a drunk Nursey over it.
“How’s it going over here?” Wicky asked, appearing with a few more bottles of water, one of which he immediately handed to Ollie.
“C came up with our costume idea,” Nursey informs Wicky unsteadily. "I look sick, amirite?"
"You do," Wicky agrees, like he did the last seven times Nursey had asked, because Wicky is awesome and a really good sport. "Just don't be sick in it."
Nursey laughs uproariously, as if he hasn't heard that joke numerous times tonight.
While Nursey is absorbed with the dumb joke, Wicky touches Ollie’s back. “How you hanging in there?”
“I’m surviving.”
“Good, that’s good.”
Ollie flashes Wicky a quick grin, but he doesn’t get a moment to admire how good his friend looks because Nursey abruptly changes colours and makes a funny sound.
It is, unfortunately, a familiar sound and Ollie jams a bucket in front of Nursey’s face just in time.
“Hey, I think it’s time for you to go back to your dorm,” Ollie says, trying not to wrinkle his nose because he spent a long time on getting his make-up right and he does not want it flaking off.
“Here, I’ll get him to the door and ready to go,” says Wicky, catching one of Nursey’s arms. “And you can get that emptied and taken care of, and when you get back up here, he should be ready to go.”
“You’re a life-saver,” Ollie tells his teammate gratefully. He’s not a fan of vomit, but emptying and cleaning the puke bucket is better than trying to Nursey into his shoes, in Ollie’s humble opinion. It’s way less frustrating.
Wicky disagrees, and considers getting Nursey into his shoes and jacket to be the easier of the two tasks, so it works out.
It doesn’t take Ollie too long to flush the vomit and to bleach the bucket. He hurries to the front door and is surprised to see that Nursey’s got both shoes on already. Neither are tied and he keeps moving his foot as Wicky tries to remedy the situation, but it’s still impressive that Wicky got him that far along in the first place.
They finally get Nursey together enough to get him out the door, Wicky under one arm and Ollie under the other.
They got halfway to the first-year dorms when they ran into a loud bunch of drunk tennis players. One of them blinks owlishly at them. “What the hell,” he slurs.
“Hockey players,” another says, head bobbing like a bobblehead doll. “Doing that Nightmare Before Christmas thing.”
"Oh, right."
"Hey!" A third one yells. "Who are you guys?"
Wicky throws them an oversized cheesy grin. "I'm David S. Pumpkins, man!"
A few in the group laugh loudly, but most of them just look befuddled.
"What? Who's that?"
"It's David S. Pumpkins," a different tennis player slurs. "You know. David S. Pumpkins."
Nursey mumbles something as someone else says "no, I don't know."
“What’s his deal? And what’s with the skeleton?”
“I do my own thang,” Wicky declares.
“And I’m part of it,” adds Ollie. He crosses his arms and leans against Nursey, which nearly turns into a mistake as Nursey sways dangerously.
“Any questions?” Wicky asks as he helps stabilise Nursey.
“So many questions,” the confused tennis player mumbles. “’Ve got so many questions.”
Nursey makes a gagging noise and Ollie quickly angles the defenceman over the storm drain right next to them. Thankfully, Nursey doesn’t vomit again, but he does have a few dry heaves.
That, more than anything else, makes the tennis players move on.
"Done?" Ollie asks Nursey.
"…Yeah," Nursey slurs. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth on the third try.
"Okay, then. Let's get you back to your room." Ollie throws one of Nursey's arms back over his shoulder while Wicky grabs the other arm.
"D'ja see Chow's costume?" Nursey mumbles. "Good idea. All his good idea."
"We did see it. We saw all the costumes. We're seeing yours now," says Ollie patiently.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Chill."
Nursey doesn't say anything more, so they continue on their way.
Things go relatively smoothly from there. They get Nursey into his bed safely (complete with trash can, water, and painkillers nearby), and he's snoring quietly within ten minutes. Ollie and Wicky are back in their own dorm room fifteen minutes after that.
Wicky only has to remove his bright orange fake hair clip and hang up his fabulously tacky pumpkin suit, and he's able to flop down on their couch in his old sweats and ragged cotton shirt. Ollie, on the other hand, has to unpin his wild fluffy hat from his hood, wrestle his way out of his skeleton bodysuit, and scrub off his make-up. It turns out his worry it might flake off was completely unfounded, as it proves to be surprisingly tenacious.
Wicky laughs at him. “Look at you! Just-oh god, you’re just making it worse! Just stop for a moment and sit here.”
Ollie plops down on the couch next to where his roommate had been sitting just a moment before. Wicky comes over a few moments later, rubbing his hands together. “Shut your eyes and stay still,” he instructs Ollie.
Ollie does as he’s told, but he does start slightly when Wicky starts carefully rubbing something on his face, even though he’s expecting it. Whatever it is, it smells nice, like Wicky always does before bed, and it makes Ollie’s stomach flutter.
“There,” Wicky murmurs a few minutes later. “Let that sit for five or ten minutes or so, and then try washing it off.”
Ollie opens his eyes slowly and oh. Wicky’s face is right there, and Ollie doesn’t dare breathe.
They stare into each other’s eyes and Ollie’s heart is pounding so loud he thinks it could drown out the sound system at the Haus. If either one of them leans forward, just a little bit…
A door slams and both of them look away, faces pinker than they'd been a moment ago.
"So…yeah. Just let that sit." Wicky reaches to rub the back of his neck, seems to remember he's got stuff on his hands, and he stands there awkwardly for a moment before going to the small sink in the corner of their room.
"What is it?" Ollie wants to know and resists touching his face.
"Well, you know how my sisters are in dance and theatre and pageants and stuff?" Wicky dries his hands as he turns around. "All those things require a ton of make-up and it gets to be pretty rough on their skin. It also takes a goodly amount of time to get that stuff off, and Lily's decided she's too lazy for all that, but she still wants her skin to be nice. So she made this face cream that would take off her make-up and moisturise and clean her skin at the same time. It took her a bit to get it right, but she's got the formula down pat now, and she makes it and sells it to everyone back home. It really does the trick, and I use it all the time."
"Oh, that's why you look so much better than the rest of us by the end of the season!" By the time everyone's growing their hair for the playoffs, over half the team is grateful for the excuse to have something to cover some of the worst of their acne. Not Wicky. Wicky's skin is always perfect and glowing, and Ollie had just chalked it up to really amazing genetics, since Wicky never seems to do much with his skin.
Wicky chuckles a little. "Yeah. You should've seen me before. It was bad." He grins. "In fact, Lily pays me twenty bucks a month so she can use my before-and-after pictures in her advertising. I told her she's going to have to up her offering if she ever starts to sell online or has an ad campaign targeting athletes."
"She's not selling online? Why not? She'd make a killing."
"Probably, but she's barely keeping up with demand now. Throw in the hassle of shipping…" Wicky shrugs. "It'd be too much. And while she likes having her own small business, she still wants to do things like act and dance and perform and hang out with her friends. Plus, she has to get through high school, and Mum's really pushing for her to get some sort of degree, even if it's just a simple business degree from the community college."
"If she's already got a business, why would she need college?"
Wicky shrugs again. "Mum says it will make people take her more seriously. And if she decides to do something else, she'll need the degree." He smiles ruefully. "And then she'll say something about networking, learning the different aspects of business, trying something new, or having a chance to have the 'full' college experience…you know my mum-she's got a list of answers for everything."
"How does Lily feel about it all?"
"Eh, she's cool with it. She'd like to go to college, but she's totally fine with the idea that it might not be for her. I think she just wants to give it a try, just to see, and to have an excuse to move out. She really wants to spread her wings, and I think she feels like she can't do it properly at home."
"Ah, okay."
They're quiet for a moment, and then Wicky gestures to Ollie's face. "You should be okay to wash it off now.”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”
The make-up removal goes much better this time and Ollie touches his cheek after; his skin feels amazing. “Hey. How much is Lily charging for how big a jar?”
Wicky laughs. “I told you it’s great stuff! Here,” he gets up and rummages around on one of his shelves. “I’ve got an extra jar you can have until I go home again.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks, man. Thanks a lot.” Ollie curls his fingers around the jar, touching Wicky’s hand, and feels his heart start to pound when Wicky doesn’t immediately let go. He glances up and is immediate caught in Wicky’s gaze. He should feel pinned down by such intensity, but instead, he feels exhilarated.
Time stretches out and Ollie would swear neither of them moved, but their faces are suddenly much closer together.
“This okay?” Ollie finally whispers, deciding he wants to take that leap.
“Please,” Wicky breathes, and it’s not actually answering the question, but it kind of is, so Ollie closes the distance between them.
It’s chaste and simple, and the sweetest kiss Ollie has ever experienced. Wicky’s mouth is soft and the faint brush of his stubble is a wonderful contrast. It’s perfect.
Reluctantly, Ollie pulls back. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome and ruin things, but he only catches a glimpse of Wicky’s pretty pink cheeks before Wicky’s mouth is against his again. It’s firmer this time, and the sweetness is definitely tampered by hunger, but it’s good. It’s so good.
Wicky’s hand comes up to cup Ollie’s freshly-scrubbed cheek during their third kiss, and Ollie drops the jar on the couch during their fifth one. Their mouths are open now, and things are way less sweet.
When they finally break apart for longer than a moan, Wicky has one hand fisted in Ollie’s shirt and Ollie is halfway to blanketing his roommate.
Neither of them move for a long moment.
Finally, Olli clears his throat. "Maybe…we should…talk about this. Before going any further, I mean."
"As long as there is a 'next time' and 'going further', I'm all in," vows Wicky, but the moment is slightly ruined when his jaw cracks with a yawn.
"It doesn't have to happen right now."
"Yeah, but if we wait, we have to wait on other stuff as well.”
“We’ll have to wait either way,” Ollie points out. “You’re too tired for it to be good for either of us now-imagine how much worse it will be after a talk like that!”
“Yeah, but…waiting.” Wicky reaches out and traces Ollie’s bottom lip.
Ollie swallows hard.
Wicky yawns again and he lets his hand fall. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”
“You know…” Ollie trails off. He nearly loses his nerve, but then Wicky looks over at him, clearly waiting for him to finish and he can’t not ask. “You know, you could…sleep with me tonight. In my bed. We’ve shared a bed before, so we don’t have to discuss that.”
Wicky stares at him. Ollie would be worried, expect Wicky’s eyes have gone almost completely black.
“I’d…yeah,” Wicky finally says, voice a little unsteady. “Yeah, we could do that. I’d like that. That’d…be good. Yeah.”
Ollie ducks his head, grinning. “Okay. So…I’m gonna finish getting ready for bed.”
“Yeah.” Wicky still sounds dazed, but when Ollie gets back from his quick bathroom run, it seems that his roommate has shaken it off. He makes his own run to the bathroom, and when returns, he hovers by the foot of Ollie’s bed, like he still can’t believe this is happening.
Ollie can relate-he’s halfway convinced he’s going to wake up with a massive hangover and discover this whole thing was just a drunken dream.
But he knows he’s not imaginative enough to visualise that look on Wicky’s face, nor the slight tremble in Wicky’s hand as he reaches up to touch Ollie’s face before kissing him wetly. This is happening. This is real. This is really happening.
“Do you like being the big spoon or the little one?” Ollie makes himself ask when their mouths eventually part. He doesn’t ask which side of the bed Wicky wants-he’s roomed with Wicky enough on roadies to know Wicky likes sleeping on the left-hand side.
Wicky’s eyelashes flutter slightly. “Tonight, I’d like to be the little spoon.”
The idea of being wrapped around Wicky all night, with his back and butt pressed against Ollie is enough to make Ollie’s mouth dry and speaking nearly impossible, so he nods jerkily instead. He gets into bed and hold his blankets up in an invitation.
And then Wicky’s in his arms, warm and solid, and Ollie can bury his nose in the long strands of hair at the base of Wicky’s skull; for a dizzying moment, Ollie doesn’t think he’ll calm down enough to sleep ever again.
But then Wicky sighs in obvious contentment and braids his fingers with Ollie’s on his stomach before letting the tension run out of his body. He’s soft and pliant, and in some ways, it’s better than any hot make-out session could ever be. It’s the most blatant sign of trust and happiness that anyone’s ever entrusted Ollie with.
So Ollie tightens his arm a little bit and lets himself relax. It feels good. It feels right.
As he follows Wicky into dreamland, he thinks how it turned out to be really good night, after all.
x Fin x