The mighty 4!
My honourable friends,
our fourth prompt post!
That's right, number FOUR.
Like the nucleobases, the fundamental forces of physics and the horsemen of the apocalypse.
Like the number of seasons, the number of letters in most swear words and the number of boxes each tetris shape is made of.
In this spirit, here are four things to keep in mind:
1) The ( Read more... )
our fourth prompt post!
That's right, number FOUR.
Like the nucleobases, the fundamental forces of physics and the horsemen of the apocalypse.
Like the number of seasons, the number of letters in most swear words and the number of boxes each tetris shape is made of.
In this spirit, here are four things to keep in mind:
1) The ( Read more... )
It’s not that they live together. That would say something about them, it’d mean something they haven’t discussed, haven’t decided yet. And they both spend so much time away that it’s more of a base than a home.
But it’s a cosy terraced house, with a well-stocked fridge and a truly comfortable bed, and somehow that - and that other thing, that vague, indescribable feeling of calm about the place - seems to count for more than the words suggest.
It’s been a stressful few days, full of travel and endless meetings and snatching naps in his office. It’s good to be back, if only for the change of scenery.
When he opens the door, he can hear the sound of the TV coming from the living room. It’s football, obviously. The World Cup. He smiles to himself at the predictability of it.
He drops his briefcase in the hallway, and calls out “hello?” Standing at the doorway to the living room, he sees Andy, standing in front of the sofa, looking at him. He’s muted the TV.
“I haven’t seen you for a few days,” Andy says, a little casually (Nick knows why. This is just an arrangement. There’s them, but the house is just convenience and they’re not connected, not really. They’re not married, they don’t need to check up on each other). “Apart from on the news, of course.”
“Things have been...hectic,” replies Nick, sighing a little, running a hand through his hair. “I bet you’ve been busy too, though?”
Andy shrugs. “A bit. Not as much as you, though, obviously.” He moves, so he’s closer to Nick, leaning against the back of the sofa. His eyes are a little narrowed, a little wary. He’s always like this, the first time they see each other after a few days. They both are. Suspicious, uncertain. Neither of them really knows where the lines are. “You’ve been looking tired,” Andy tells him. “I mean, not that I’m saying...you know what I mean.”
Nick nods. He’s still standing in the doorway. Every time, sooner or later, it all falls into place. It’s just making that transition. It’s just, finding their way back into what’s comfortable.
Andy looks good. Jeans and a t-shirt, slightly mussed hair. He’s obviously got the afternoon off. He’s probably been sitting on the sofa watching World Cup coverage since it started today, talking to the TV like Nick knows he does, reacting with no less vigour than he would if he was in the stands. In games that England don’t play in (so all of them, now), he chooses a team more or less at random, and roots for them as if they were his homeland. Nick’s seen him do it, shouting and gesturing and clutching his hair, and he feels a small, hollow ache somewhere in the region of his chest.
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And there it is. That smile. It’s the switch.
Nick steps forwards into the room, and Andy’s already moving towards him, shining, and they meet halfway (of course they do. Don’t they always?). Nick pushes Andy back, back to where he was standing, leaning back against the sofa, and with one hand on his hips and another on his jaw, kisses him firmly.
Kissing Andy Burnham is like coming home. Without this, this place is just a house. A not-always-tidy house with Artexed ceilings and that suspicious shadow that just might be damp. But with it, with soft lips moving eagerly against his own and a pair of strong hands on his shoulders, it’s suddenly a meaningful location in his life.
He moves his hands, clutches Andy’s hair, and Andy gives a little groan, tipping his head back. Nick moves his lips to the column of Andy’s throat, kissing softly. “I’ve missed you too,” says Andy, and Nick can’t help but give a laugh.
Andy stands up straight, pushing Nick away from him a little, and puts his hands on his waist. “Have you been eating properly?” he asks, a line of concern forming across his forehead. Nick presses a small kiss to it.
“I haven’t lost weight since the beginning of the week.”
Andy pokes his chest accusingly. “Evading the question there, like a true professional.”
Nick sighs, preparing to defend himself (and really, too tired to do so with any conviction), but before he can speak, Andy’s wrapping his arms around him, strong and firm, holding him still and secure. He rests his head on Andy’s shoulder.
“Sit down,” Andy says, pushing him on to the sofa. “I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I haven’t sorted out any food. Takeaway?”
Nick shrugs. Andy raises an eyebrow. Nick nods.
“Right, so, takeaway -“ he slumps on to the sofa, “- and football -“ he picks up the remote and restores sound to the TV, “- then we’ll lounge around and absolutely not talk about work. You can have a bath if you want, then we’ll have an early night, because you are tired, I can tell.”
Nick gives a faint smile as Andy leans against him. Andy sees it, and quickly kisses his cheek. “Welcome home,” he says.
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Oh, and by the way - THIS WINS! It's exactly the sort of thing I was looking for. Andy getting excited about football is too adorable for words, and I love how they're both kind of awkward but still affectionate. <3 Thank you!
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You capture the uncertainty of that particular stage in a relationship really well.
And they're so cute! <3
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captcha: warfare nintendo - I can so see these to playing nintendo and taking it way to seriously! :B
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