i was already working on this idea, and then i heard that Kit supposedly fell off a scooter in LA and got pretty banged up! that was a little while ago now, but let's still send him our good thoughts to heal up quick!
just a quick cw that this chapter will be talking about hospitals/stitches/injuries, so if that stuff grosses you out, feel free to skip this chapter! but if not, enjoy!
I missed Nick at school so much today. During yesterday's rugby match, he took a pretty nasty fall. With the worst luck ever, he managed to land his leg on a really sharp pebble that was on the field, causing him to need a few stitches in his leg. He was feeling really sore from the fall as well, so he stayed home from school today. Luckily though, I don't have much homework, so I'm headed over to hang out with him now that school is out.
I approach the Nelsons' home and ring the doorbell, and I can hear Nellie run up to the door and give a short "woof". After a few moments, Sarah opens the door.
"Hi Charlie! So good to see you! Come on in," she says, nudging Nellie behind her so she doesn't run out the door. "How was school?"
"It was alright," I say, even though it was incredibly boring without Nick, "the usual. How's Nick?"
"He's doing okay," she says with a nod, "mostly just real sore. Tired too, we didn't get back from the hospital until quite late. You know how it goes there," she smiles. "He said the worst part is changing the bandages and cleaning up, apparently the stuff really stings." She leans in to whisper to me with a smile, "don't tell him I told you this, but he had to ask his mummy to do it for him earlier," she teases him. She leans over to shout up the stairs, "Nicky, Charlie's here!"
"Be right down!" I hear him shout back, sounding quite unlike himself.
"No, it's okay!" I say loudly, beginning to climb the stairs. "I'll come to you."
"No, Charlie, just hang on," I hear him say frantically through his closed bedroom door, being his adorable, stubborn self.
"Nick, you're hurt! Stay there," I say as I open the door, only to find Nick sitting on the edge of his bed with a bright red face, in only a tee shirt and boxers.
"Hi..." he says sheepishly.
"Hi," I say, awkwardly walking in and closing the door behind me.
"I was just about to... uh... put some pants on..." he chuckles nervously, "it just honestly hurts to move, so I'm a little slow."
"Don't worry about it," I say, trying not to make it obvious that I am most definitely staring at his muscular legs. It hurts my heart to see the giant bandage on his thigh, but I literally cannot look away. "Boxers are essentially just shorts anyway," I smile, feeling my cheeks warm as I approach him.
"I guess you're right," he smiles, carefully trying to lay back down and wincing. I had previously been too focused on his... outfit choice... to notice the scrape under his eye and the bruise forming around it.
"Nick," I frown, "d'you need some help?"
"I think I'm alright," he tries to smile with furrowed brows. I stand awkwardly as I watch him finally settle into a position that looks somewhat comfortable. He gingerly lifts the covers and pats the spot next to him. "Come lay with me," he smiles. "Just be careful, I'm fragile," he jokes as I climb into the bed to lay down next to him.
"Never in my life did I think you'd be the fragile one in this relationship," I tease him, very carefully resting my hand on his chest as I lay down beside him.
"You're not fragile, Char. Just... gentle!"
"You're cute," I say.
"You're cuter," he smirks.
"Are you really in a state to argue with me today, Nicholas?"
"You know I'll always win this one," he says.
"What happens if I say it last and then run away? You can't catch me. I'll win."
"Oi!" he says, giving me a playful frown. "No making fun of your injured boyfriend. Plus, I wouldn't be able to catch you on a normal day anyways," he says, and we laugh.
We lay there for a while, chatting about school and how good yesterday's match was going before Nick's catastrophe, occasionally sharing a laugh or a gentle kiss. The afternoon sunlight pours through Nick's window, casting a glow on his eyelashes and bangs. The skin under his poor eye is slightly purple with little streaks of red scrapes across it. It breaks my heart to see him like this. You'd think with how much he gives his all in every match, Nick would get injured more, but this is the first time he's ever had to go to the hospital from rugby. Stupid pebble.
"What time is it?" he asks, his voice tired.
"About 4," I reply, looking up at him.
He sighs. "I've gotta take some paracetamol and change bandages. They've got me on a very precise schedule," he says, smiling and rolling his eyes. "It'll just take a minute," he says, starting to try to get out of bed.
"Hey, let me get it," I say, laying my hand on his shoulder to signal him to lay back down.
"Charlie," he groans cutely, slightly embarrassed.
"Let me take care of you!" I smile, getting up to grab his medicine and first aid supplies off of his desk. "I wear the pants in this relationship," I joke.
"I think we both do," he smiles.
"Um, not right now we don't," I raise my eyebrows, "Captain Underpants."
"Hey!" he cuts me off, blushing.
I hand him the bottle of medicine and his water bottle and he takes two pills.
"Alright, so what do I need to do?" I ask.
"Just hand me the stuff, I can do it," he smiles.
I raise one eyebrow at him, and he looks back at me, playing dumb, "What?" he asks goofily.
"I'm going to help you," I say.
"Charlie, I got it," he chuckles, "I'm a big boy. I can do it myself."
"Really?" I tease, sitting down next to him on the side of the bed, setting the first aid supplies down next to me. "Because your mum told me you needed help with your boo-boos earlier," I joke.
He leans his head against my shoulder and groans, laughing. "Why do you two have an alliance to embarrass me?"
"We just do," I say, gently kissing the top of his head. "Now tell me what to do."
"Fine," he sighs playfully. "We've just got to put this stuff on the scrapes, and then we change the bandage on the stitches too."
"Sounds easy enough," I say, picking up the antiseptic and putting some on a piece of gauze. "You ready?" I ask, looking at the scrape under his eye.
"I guess so," he sighs, obviously nervous.
Before I begin, I lean in and give the gentlest kiss to the scrape under his eye, and he blushes with a small smile. "Let me know if you need a break, yeah?" I ask. He nods in reply and closes his eyes.
Carefully, I take the piece of gauze and begin to dab it gently on his scrape. Instantly, he winces. "Sorry!" I say loudly, pulling the gauze away.
"Don't apologize Char," he smiles, "it just stings like hell. Just go for it." He closes his eyes again.
This time, I take my opposite hand and hold the other side of his face gently, and I can see him trying to conceal a smile. I get his eye cleaned up as quickly as possible and give a small kiss on his forehead when it's finished.
"Thank you," he grins softly, looking down at his lap.
"Of course," I say quietly. "Just your leg now and then we're all done."
"Actually... um... my whole side's kind of scraped up too," he says. "I can do it."
"Oh, Nick," I frown. "I didn't know it was that bad." I place my hand on his. "Let me help you."
He nods shyly, and I grab a fresh piece of gauze to put the antiseptic on. I'm about to clean it when I realize that the scrape is wholly covered by his tee shirt.
"Um... should I..." I ask awkwardly, already feeling my cheeks turn pink.
"Yeah, sorry," he says, lifting up the hem of his shirt. I grab it gently with my opposite hand and lift it up to reveal the scrape, which pretty much covers from his hip bone to his ribcage. I feel the same as I did when I first walked in; while it breaks my heart to see him like this... holy shit. I've only ever seen Nick shirtless in the locker room, and I am always trying to look away completely when that happens so neither of us get made fun of by Harry and the other guys. This is the first time I've ever been able to just, look at him, and wow, my heart is beating so fast that I think it might explode.
"Is this okay?" I ask him nervously.
"Yeah," he almost whispers, clearly blushing as well.
Beginning at the top of the scrape close to his chest, I carefully dab the gauze over his skin, being sure not to rub or press too hard. I notice that Nick is gripping onto the blanket with white knuckles and scrunching his face, and I feel awful. At one particularly scraped up spot, he hisses and flinches.
"Should I stop?" I ask frantically.
"Just for a second, yeah," he exhales, his face and knuckles still tense.
I set the gauze down, but I realize I'm still holding up his shirt. Um, wow. My hand is practically resting on Nick Nelson's ribcage. Dreams do come true, I guess. Ever so gently, I begin to rub my thumb back and forth on a part of his skin that isn't scraped, and I can feel his heart beating like crazy too. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the corners of his mouth turn up. I could ask if he'd like me to continue cleaning him up, but decide that I'd like this to last for as long as possible. I look at his side, and it just hurts my soul to imagine how painful it is.
"I'm so sorry, Nick," I say quietly, my heart aching.
"Stop saying sorry!" he smiles. I want to say sorry for saying sorry, but instead, we just sit in silence, my thumb still gently caressing his side. I could get used to this.
"Okay," he takes a deep breath, and I feel his ribcage expand and shrink. "I'm ready when you are."
"I'll be quick," I say, picking up the gauze again and adjusting his shirt. I continue to quickly but carefully dab the antiseptic on his side as he tries to take slow deep breaths. However, when I reach the hem of his boxers, I can clearly tell that there is still a bit more to clean near his hipbone underneath them.
"Um... there's just a little bit left... um... I don't know if you... want me to..." I can barely speak.
"Here," he says shyly as our faces turn redder than they've ever been. He carefully shifts the hem of his boxers down only an inch or so, just enough to reveal the rest of the scrape, but I think I might just die right here and now. I look up at him, and he looks back at me, and we both smile nervously. Nick and I kiss, cuddle, even make out sometimes, but this is by far the closest we've ever been. I think I can hear my own heartbeat.
I carefully dab the gauze on the last small area, right on his hipbone. "You're all good," I say gently, touching his hand to let him know he can let go, and he carefully repositions his boxers to cover his hip up again.
"Thank you," he says. "I'm... sorry if that was weird," he almost whispers, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and looking away.
"No, not at all," I reassure him. He looks back at me with his adorable half-smile. "I promise."
I lean over to kiss him softly, which does the opposite of calm the butterflies in my stomach.
"Can I take the bandage off?" he asks. "Not that I don't trust you, it's just going to be disgusting," he laughs.
"If that's what makes you most comfortable, then of course," I nod. "But for the record, you literally held a tissue up to my bloody nose for me because my hands were getting tired. So I think we'd just be even."
"Fair enough," he smiles with a nod, readjusting himself so he can reach the bandage on his thigh. "Can I hold your hand?" he asks.
"Yes," I say, giving him mine, "just please don't crush it. We both know you probably could."
He smiles, lightly squeezing my hand and grabbing the corner of the bandage with his other. He takes a big breath to hype himself up. "Okay. On three." I squeeze his hand back. "One, two, three!" He yanks the bandage off and whispers out a laundry list of expletives.
"I'm gonna tell your mum you used those words," I tease, and he leans into me.
"What's she gonna do, ground me from playing rugby?" he laughs, leaning over to throw the bandage in the trash can.
"I really don't want to do this," he groans as I prepare a new piece of gauze.
"This is gonna be the worst of it, but then you're all done," I reassure him. "I'll go as fast as I can. Just say 'stop' if you need me to, okay?"
"Okay," he whispers, looking away.
I scoot over so that I have a better angle, and I'm able to see just how bad the wound is. He only has four or five stitches, but he was right, it is pretty grim. However, I'm still quite distracted by how beautiful his legs are in just his boxers. Focus Charlie.
"You ready?" I ask, and he nods with his eyes shut.
The second I begin to dab the gauze on his cut, he makes the saddest wincing sounds I've ever heard. My heart wants to apologize and pull away, but I know that the longer I take, the longer it will hurt, and he doesn't say stop, so instead, I place my hand on the inside of his thigh and stroke it lightly with my thumb.
"Shh, Nick, it's okay," I say, while he looks like he's about to cry. "Just one more second," I finish up.
"Shit," he says, trying to take deep breaths.
"Hey, it's okay. The worst part is over," I say, with my hand still on his inner thigh. "Just gonna put your new bandage on and then you're all done." Carefully, I place a new bandage over his cut and gently press down the edges so that it has a good seal. I can feel him looking at me, so I meet his eyes with mine and notice an adorable, shy smile on his face. Maintaining eye contact, I rub his inner thigh with my thumb a few more times before placing the gentlest kiss on his leg.
"Thank you, Char," he whispers, blushing like crazy.
"Of course," I reply, probably doing the same. "And since you were so brave, you get a prize,"
I tease.
"And what's that?" he asks, gingerly scooting back under the covers.
"Cuddling me!"
"My favorite," he smiles as I climb into bed next to him.
-
A few hours later, we're cuddling and watching Netflix mostly in silence. I've been thinking ever since about what happened earlier, about how intimate things got with Nick while I was helping him, and I honestly feel a bit worried. Did he insist on cleaning up himself because he didn't want me to see him mostly shirtless, or touch his ribs, his hip, his leg? Was the caressing uncalled for? What if I pressured him into letting me see and touch parts of him that he wasn't ready for, all because I stubbornly wanted to help? The thought that I might've made him even slightly uncomfortable makes me want to cry.
"Nick?" I say quietly, trying to conceal my worry.
"What's up, Charlie? Are you alright?" he asks, obviously seeing right through it.
"I feel really bad about earlier. I'm worried that what I was... doing... was too much," I almost whisper, trying not to let tears well up in my eyes.
"What?" he asks, sounding completely confused.
"I feel like I pressured you. Into letting me see you," I can feel tears brewing, "and even touch you... in ways that you weren't ready for. I feel like I made you really uncomfortable. And I'm so-"
"Charlie, no!" placing his hand on my cheek. "Charlie, I could not have felt more comfortable." He pauses, "well, maybe if there hadn't been antiseptic involved, sure. But really," he nods reassuringly, "I feel more comfortable with you than I ever have, with anyone. No matter what."
"So, it was okay that I... kind of, touched your side, and your thigh?" I ask sheepishly.
"More than okay," he smiles. "Was that not obvious from the fact that my face literally looked like a tomato?"
"I don't know..." I trail off, a little embarrassed. "I just know that this is your first time being in a relationship with a guy and I just, never want to do anything you're not ready for. I don't want to rush you."
"I promise, Char," he whispers, rubbing his thumb on my cheek like I did to him, "you didn't do anything wrong. I really liked it. A lot. And I promise that if anything was ever too fast, or if I wasn't ready, I would tell you right away. Okay?"
"Okay," I smile, feeling a lot better. "I would tell you too."
"Good." He kisses me sweetly on the lips. "So um..." he says, "my back is really sore from the fall."
"Are you asking me to give you a massage, Nicholas?" I giggle.
"Well... if you wouldn't mind," he smiles. "And maybe," he blushes, "if you want, I could take off my shirt? Just to... make it easier, you know. So you can see the scraped parts and make sure you don't rub them."
"Oh, is that why?" I tease him, "no other reason?"
He looks at me with a knowing smile. "I told you, I liked it earlier. Plus, I think you did too. I saw you staring."
"Hey!" I retort, "I was highly focused on cleaning you up."
He just raises an eyebrow at me, which says enough.
"I should probably take a look at it again though, just to be sure," I laugh.
"You're a dork," he says as he kisses my cheek. "Now help me take this off. It hurts to lift my arms."
I would never, ever want Nick to be in pain. But man, shirtless back massages? I don't think either of us would mind if he feels just a little sore again some time.
💕
i hope you all enjoyed this slightly longer oneshot! let me know what you thought! xo sophie