Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They’ve been best friends for years, so why is Adam nervous?

He rubs his sweaty palm against his jeans and adjusts the collar of his button-down shirt. He hasn’t seen Nigel in over six months, since his last visit from Bucharest. Nigel had moved back to his home city after getting accepted to a university program there.

“Better late than never, right?” Nigel had said with his characteristic lopsided grin.

And even worse, Nigel stayed for an internship for two years after his graduation. His visits to the United States had been sparse, and their hours-long phone calls hadn’t been the same. But after finishing his internship, Nigel got a high-paying job as a mechanical engineer at a car manufacturing plant. He was finally—finally —returning to the United States. And, even better, he was moving to Adam's neighborhood in California.

Adam jumps when he sees the car pull up. Nigel still drives the same little white car with square doors. Adam pulls at the top button of his shirt—he hopes he hasn’t overdressed—and trots over to the car. He’s opened the door when he hears Nigel say, in that familiar husky voice, “Slow down, gorgeous! I want to get a look at you.”

Adam blinks and lowers his hand from the door handle. The driver’s side door opens.

Nigel steps out, and, wow. He wears a dark blazer with a charcoal button-down shirt over form-fitting jeans. His hair is pushed back, one strand falling out of place and brushing the top of his sharp cheekbones. He’s filled out, his chest broad. He walks up to Adam with long and confident strands. They stand barely a foot apart, and Adam has to tilt his head up to look at him. Adam catches a scent of his cologne, spicy and citrusy. It wrinkles Adam’s nose, making him want to sneeze.

Adam smiles in a vague, lopsided way, suddenly rooted in place. Nigel raises an eyebrow.

“Like what you see?” Nigel asks. His voice is smooth, with a tilting lilt that Adam knows indicates good humor.

Adam’s seen some of the changes over his visits from Bucharest. Nigel has slowly been gaining muscle, and Adam saw his shirts stretch over his shoulders more and more over the course of his visits. Still, it’s hard to reconcile the lanky young adult Adam had once known so well with the man standing in front of him.

He even has stubble now. Not the unshaved, patchy stubble he had when he first started trying growing out his beard, but a confident, closely-shaved dottage of silvery-blonde hairs. They look soft. Adam wonders how they would feel if he ran his fingers over them. His hands twitch up towards Nigel’s face before he pulls them back.

“You look very handsome,” Adam says. “And different. I like your blazer and button-down shirt very much. You don't usually dress up like this.” Adam cocks his head to the side. “Am I underdressed?”

Nigel chuckles, rich and low. “Of course not, gorgeous. I’m just inviting you for dinner to my house.”

“Oh. Okay.” Adam pauses. “Then why are you so dressed up?”

“I said it would be a nice dinner, didn’t I?” Nigel smiles. “I wanted to set the mood. But you don’t have to worry. You look beautiful.”

Adam flushes. He’s wearing his favorite button-down, even if it’s not his most formal: a soft, comfortable, pale blue one, that brings out his eyes.

“Thank you,” Adam says. “Can I touch your facial hair?”

Nigel’s smile fades, and his expression turns unreadable. Adam licks his lips. Was that a strange thing to ask? Still, Adam’s not too nervous. Nigel’s always been honest with him. He’s never minded before when Adam asks him something strange.

“Of course, gorgeous.”

Nigel tilts his head back and Adam runs the tips of his fingers underneath Nigel’s jaw. The hair is bristly but still soft. Under the hairs, Nigel’s skin is a little rough and bumpy. Adam hums. The feeling is satisfying, especially combined with the warmth of Nigel’s skin and the gentle feeling of his pulse.

Adam sneaks a look at Nigel’s face. His eyes are closed, and his lips curl into a smile. Adam drops his hand down and says, “It feels nice.”

Nigel slowly opens his eyes. Adam stares at them a little too long. They’re the same eyes Adam is accustomed too: dark and soft, regarding him with fondness. They haven’t changed along with the rest of Nigel.

Adam shifts on his feet. Nigel doesn’t seem upset with him. But Adam doesn’t understand why they’re meeting now.

Adam had wanted to see Nigel right after he landed. Adam had even wanted to change his schedule and meet Nigel at the airport after his late flight. But Nigel took a whole week to see him. He said he wanted to get his life together.

Adam didn’t understand. He didn’t care that Nigel’s new apartment would be messy: he’d spent enough time in Nigel’s childhood bedroom that it barely bothered him anymore. And knowing Nigel was in the country, less than twenty minutes away, but Adam couldn’t see him, made his skin burn.

Did Nigel not feel the same way? Did he not want to see Adam? Had Adam done something to upset him?

Adam had found himself explaining the whole situation to Carol, his coworker, over his lunch break. They were friendly, not very close, but Carol hadn’t interrupted him once.

Adam breaks his gaze away from Nigel’s. He hears Carol’s words in his head: It’s probably not about you. Nigel might just need some time to get settled in. Besides, if you’re not sure, you can always ask him

And to make the whole situation more confusing, Nigel had called their dinner tonight a date. I want to cook dinner for you. As a date. Date, a word that could imply romantic interest. Yet Adam knew that couldn't be the case, for a multitude of reasons. Nigel's sexuality was the first. The second was that there was no reason for their relationship to suddenly become romantic, when they had spent so  many years as best friends. Still, why had Nigel made a point to use it?

“Should we get going?” Adam asks.

Nigel nods, keeping his careful gaze on Adam’s face. Adam blushes and his hand shakes from side to side, the way it always does when he gets anxious. He gets into the passenger seat before Nigel can comment on it.

Adam’s decided not to bring it up right away. It may be selfish of him, but Nigel doesn’t feel as close to him anymore—or if Adam has done something to upset him—he wants to play pretend for a little while.

Adam leans his head back against the passenger seat, taking a deep breath. The cream leather is familiar to him. A cinnamon air freshener hangs from the rearview mirror. Nigel’s always loved cinnamon, and tends towards the scent.

“You got rid of the rosary,” Adam says, noting its absence, how it’s not swinging along with the air freshener.

Nigel pulls smoothly out of the parking lot, one hand on the wheel. He says, “I thought it was time. I haven’t believed in that stuff for a while.”

Adam nods. He leans deeper into his seat and presses his fingers into his thighs. A stim, but not a nervous one. Nigel turns a knob and the car fills with music, low-key and jazzy and not too loud.

Adam watches Nigel as he drives. His veins stand out in sharp relief as he moves his hands over the wheel. He’s always been older—by seven years—but he hasn’t always looked it, or felt like it. His poise, his easy confidence, makes Adam feel, well, small.

Adam can’t decide if he likes the feeling. He sinks lower into the passenger seat. Every so often, Nigel catches Adam’s gaze and smiles.

Chapter Text

Adam can’t remember the first time they met. Is that bad, now that Nigel is so important to him? Still, Adam finds it fitting. Nigel had always been a comfort to him. A habit that he can’t imagine living without: a habit he so familiar he can’t point to its start.

They met when Adam was a senior in high school, taking Discrete Mathematics at the local community college. Adam had exhausted all the math classes he could take at his high school, and his counselor said the community college course would count towards college credit.

Nigel was a student there, too, taking night classes to get his GED. They both sat in the back of the class.

“Hi,” Adam would say, every single class. “How are you, Nigel?”

And every class Nigel would grunt, lean back in his chair, and close his eyes.

Adam found this reassuring for two reasons. First, he didn’t have to have involved social interactions with Nigel. That was nice. Also, unlike his classmates who liked to switch seats and broadcast their happy (or negative) moods, Adam always knew what to expect from his seatmate.

“Why do you come to school if you’re just going to sleep the whole time?” Adam asked before class one day. “Are you even sleeping? You never snore or drool, and it’s been several weeks of classes. If you were asleep I would have expected that to have happened at least once. Also your eyes don’t move beneath your eyelids in a pattern characteristic of REM sleep.”

Nigel scoffed. “How much time to do you spend staring at my face?”

“Not a lot.” Adam liked to sneak glances, finding consistency in Nigel’s serene expression. Besides, Nigel had a very pleasing face. But Adam wouldn’t define it as a lot. “It’s just hard not to notice when you’re sitting right next to me.”

Nigel leaned down and riffled around his backpack. He pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper and put it on Adam’s desk.

It was last week’s test on probability, their most difficult unit. A red 106% was written on the front. So Nigel had even gotten the extra-credit questions right. Adam was a little jealous.

“Wow.” Adam cocked his head. “You’re really smart.”

A flush crept up Nigel’s neck.

"It’s just numbers,” he mumbled. “It’s easy.”

Their professor came into the classroom and began turning on the projector. Adam didn’t pay her any attention.

He asked, “Why are you taking classes to finish your GED if you’re doing so well in an advanced class?”

Nigel flushed again, a darker shade. He cast his eyes downwards.

“It’s the fucking history and English that gets me.” He shifted in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. He shrugged, but the motion didn’t look casual.

“I struggle with those too.” Adam had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over Mrs. MacDonald’s lecturing. “I don’t like that the answer is supposed to be creative and open-ended, but there are still some answers that are more right and others that are more wrong. It confuses me.”

Nigel’s shoulders relaxed minutely. “Damn straight.”

“Maybe we can study together,” Adam offered.

Nigel’s mouth opened, about to answer. Just then, Mrs. MacDonald shot them a pointed look from the front of the class.

Nigel leaned back in his chair, tapping a pencil across the desk. He waited for Mrs. MacDonald to turn back to the board before he leaned over and spoke softly in Adam's ear. “Sure. I would like that.”

His warm breath ghosted over Adam’s ear, raising goosebumps.

*

Adam soon learned that Nigel did pay attention in class. It was obvious from their first study session, when Nigel had mentioned something specific from the lecture that he must have been paying attention to hear.

Closing his eyes must have made it harder to focus, so why did Nigel do it? Adam deduced that Nigel must have been pretending not to pay attention, but for what reason, he had no idea.

It was about a month after their first study session. Adam looked over at where Nigel was reading a passage, tapping a pencil against his textbook. Unlike when he was asleep, his face was expressive, mouthing along to the words. Adam liked it best when he got frustrated and squinted his eyes, scrunching up his nose. Adam liked watching Nigel, he was coming to realize.

“Pizdă,” Nigel said, pushing the textbook away from him. “This is fucking stupid.”

“Nigel,” Adam said. “I know you’re paying attention in class, even though you pretend not to. Why do you do that?”

Nigel ran a hand down his face. “Where did that come from, Adam?”

Adam shrugged.“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it.”

He waited patiently for a response. Nigel muttered something noncommittal into his hand.

“Let’s just work on these fucking passages,” Nigel said.

Adam leaned over to look over Nigel’s shoulder.“Do you want help? You’ve been looking at that same one for fifteen minutes.”

Nigel slid the textbook over. Adam was in a course for his high school, while Nigel was in a course at the college. It made studying together difficult.

Actually, the sessions in general were kind of useless, because they both weren’t very good at English. Adam hadn’t brought it up, though. It was nice to do the work with someone else, rather than being frustrated alone. Besides, it gave him the chance to stare at Nigel. Adam wondered if that was like lying.

“I’ve been stuck on question five,” Nigel said.

“Hmm.” Adam read the question and passage rapidly. “I think it could be B. Is that what you were thinking?” Nigel shook his head. “Oh! Or C, because of this line here. But, hmm, this line works better with D. I don’t think it’s A though.” Adam cocked his head. “Does that help?”

“Fuck no.” Nigel groaned into his hands. “I thought it was A.”

*

Adam was practically vibrating with excitement. He was inviting Nigel to his house. Nigel would be coming in—Adam checked his watch—four minutes and thirty-two seconds.

“Dad,” he said. “You mentioned you were going to get the car fixed. Why are you still here?”

Mr. Raki looked over at his son from the newspaper he was reading. “Well,” he said, “I thought I would say hello to your friend first before leaving you boys be.”

“Why?”

“That’s the polite thing to do, Adam.” Mr. Raki smiled, pushing his square, black-framed glasses over his nose. “Besides, you’ve been talking about this Nigel so much that I wanted to meet him.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Adam checked his watch again. Three minutes and four seconds. He ran from the kitchen to the living room to straighten his pencil. He’d laid out his study materials already.

They were just having another study session, but this time, Nigel would be coming to his house. That meant they were friends. Well, at least, Adam hoped so.

Adam had said, “Nigel, now that we’re friends, do you want to come study at my house?”

Nigel blushed and mumbled something back. He knew Adam couldn’t hear him when he talked like that, but it didn’t seem to stop him.

Nigel didn’t say it back—that they were friends—and that worried Adam a little. But Nigel was coming to his house, which was probably a good sign. His dad had told him not to bother Nigel about it. Not everyone wants to talk through every single one of their feelings, Adam.

The doorbell rang. Adam sprinted to open it. Nigel was one minute and forty-three seconds early.

Nigel wore a white polo, his neck tattoo sneaking past the collar. He'd shaved off his patchy stubble and pushed his hair back. He had his textbooks under his arms and smiled widely at seeing Adam.

“Nigel!” Adam said from the doorway.

Adam had the sudden urge to give Nigel a hug. That was strange: he never wanted to give people hugs.

Nigel’s smile grew. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“Oh.” Adam moved out of the doorway to let Nigel inside. He ushered Nigel down the passageway leading into the kitchen. “My dad wants to meet you.”

Nigel’s step faltered. His lips pressed together in an expression that Adam thought might have been displeased, or nervous, but it went away too quickly for Adam to say for sure,

When they reached the kitchen, Mr. Raki stood up. His face started in a smile, but faded into an expression that Adam definitely knew was displeased. Mr. Raki lowered the hand he had raised towards Nigel.

“You’re Nigel?” he asked.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you, uh...” Nigel rubbed at the back of his neck, his eyes downcast.

“Mr. Raki.”

“Mr. Raki. Thanks.”

Nigel extended his hand, and Mr. Raki took it, gingerly.

Mr. Raki’s lips were pursed.“You’re in Adam’s English class?”

Adam piped up. “Oh, no. He’s taking remedial courses at the community college to get his GED.”

Nigel smiled, but there was something wrong with it. Adam couldn’t blame him. His dad was acting weird.

Mr. Raki pushed his glasses up his nose. “How old are you, Nigel?”

“Twenty-five.” Nigel made an effort to straighten his gaze, but he was still shifting on his feet. “Sir.”

“Twenty-five. And you don’t have your GED yet?”

Adam’s hand raised to grip Nigel’s upper arm, without thinking about it.“ Dad,” Adam hissed. “ You’re not being very polite.”

Mr. Raki met his son’s eyes. Adam didn’t look away. He was comfortable looking at his father. Especially when he felt his father was being unfair. Like now.

Mr. Raki said, “I’m just asking a question.”

“You’re not just asking a question. You’re making that face you make when you’re upset.” Adam tightened his grip on Nigel’s arm. He could feel the warmth of Nigel’s skin through the scratchy fabric of the polo. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. Nigel hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m not upset.”

Adam shook his head. His free hand trembled at his side. “You are! I know you are! Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not...” Mr. Raki began. He sighed heavily, sliding down his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “Adam, calm down.”

“It’s okay, Adam,” Nigel said. His voice was low and comforting in Adam’s ear.

Mr. Raki spoke very carefully. “I’m a little upset, Adam, because I thought your friend was someone from your school.” His dad was talking slowly. Like Adam was stupid. “I didn’t realize he was twenty-five and hadn’t graduated high school. It’s not what I was expecting.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Adam snapped.

“Nothing’s wrong with that.”

“Adam, it’s okay,” Nigel said, quietly.

Nigel sounded small. Adam hated it. He was so, so embarrassed. He’d invited Nigel here, and was excited about spending time together. And now his Dad was bullying Nigel, the same way people bullied Adam. Even though his dad said you shouldn’t treat people differently because of things they can’t control. It didn’t make any sense.

Adam’s voice rose. “Nigel moved here from Romania. He had to learn English. He had to get a job at the grocery store to help his mother pay the bills. He wasn’t able to finish school. And he’s worked really hard and made his way up to a management position. And no one told him to, he just decided, he wanted to go back and finish school. That’s amazing. You should be really proud of him. I’m proud of him.” Adam breathed heavily. “And he’s the smartest person in our Discrete Math class. He’s smarter than me. ”

Adam couldn’t read the expression on his dad’s face. It was too complicated, and he’d never seen it before. His dad’s eyes were cast down, though, which could indicate shame.

Good. He should be ashamed.

After a long moment, Mr, Raki spoke. “Adam, I’m sorry.”

Adam ground his teeth. His heart thumped in his chest, a bird bashing against his ribcage. “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Nigel.”

Mr. Raki fiddled with his glasses, then fiddled with the top button of his collared shirt. “Nigel, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” Nigel said, to his shoes.

Adam let go of Nigel’s upper arm. He realized he’d been digging his fingernails into the skin.

Mr, Raki continued. “I’m just trying to look out for my son. Nigel. You understand how it is.”

Nigel shifted on his feet again. “Sure.” He still didn’t look up.

Adam grabbed Nigel’s upper arm again. His skin felt hot, a pulsing beating in his ears.

Anger. Adam was feeling anger.

Adam said, “You have to fix the car, Dad. You should go.”

Mr. Raki looked between his son and Nigel. He opened his mouth, as if about to say something, then closed it. He opened it again.

Mr. Raki said, “Yeah, okay, kiddo. Have fun... studying.”

Nigel had to pull Adam out of the way so his Dad could leave the kitchen. Adam’s feet felt rooted to the ground.

“So, uh,” Nigel eventually said. There was an unsteady edge to his voice, but his face was calm. “Do you want to go study now?”

“I’m really angry.” Adam’s tone was flat. “Can we play video games instead?”

*

Adam started by playing Zelda, but he got frustrated at the puzzles, which were usually easy for him. He and Nigel played Super Smash Bros for a while, but that wasn’t any good, because Adam won each round in less than thirty seconds. He put the AI on the hardest difficulty and played round after round. He sat bundled deep in a beanbag chair, Nigel sitting on the floor next to him.

Adam didn’t know how long he’d been playing. He knew he was coming out of his video-game haze, though, because his fingers were starting to hurt.

He realized Nigel was staring at him. Adam put down the controller and flexed his fingers.

“You okay?” Nigel asked.

“I’m fine.” Adam worried at his lower lip with his teeth. He took in the room around him. On the floor, Nigel leaned back against the couch, his legs outstretched. One hand rested on his thigh.

Adam felt a pang. How long had he been sitting there?

Adam asked, “Are you having fun?

Nigel let out a surprised chuckle. “Yeah, I am.”

Adam inclined his head. “Really? Even though I’ve been ignoring you?”

A strand of hair fell down over Nigel’s forehead. He pushed it back. His smile was soft, haphazard, crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Nigel said, “I’m just happy to be near you.”

“Good! I invited you over to my house to have fun.” Adam paused. “Oh! My dad said it was rude to win too much when I played games. And I kept beating you.” He snuck a glance at Nigel, who watched him closely. “Would you like to win against me? I’m not very good at racing games, so if we played one, you would probably win.”

Nigel chuckled again. His laugh was low and rough, yet somehow soft. “You know, my friends consider me to be the best at Super Smash Bros. No-one’s ever beaten me like that before.”

Adam shrugged. “I play it when get angry or anxious. It helps distract me.”

“Are you often angry or anxious?”

Adam picked at a thread on his sweater. “Sometimes.”

They sat quietly for a moment. Adam wrung his hands in his lap, but he could feel the weight of Nigel’s gaze on him.

Nigel asked, gentle, “How are you feeling right now, Adam?”

He hovered a hand over Adam’s shoulder, and Adam leaned into the touch. Nigel’s hand was warm and solid. It felt nice.

“Better,” Adam said. “Can you hug me?”

Nigel’s hand tightened on Adam’s shoulder. “What?”

Adam’s brows furrowed. “Was I unclear?”

Nigel relaxed his grip. He shook his head. “No. I was just surprised.”

Nigel opened his arms. His lips were pursed, but not in a way that seemed upset. Maybe unsure? But Adam didn’t know what Nigel would be unsure about, since Adam had been very clear.

Adam sat up from the beanbag chair. He crawled between Nigel’s open legs and turned, so he could press his back against Nigel’s broad chest. Nigel wrapped his arms around Adam’s front.

“Like this?” Nigel asked, his voice a little high.

Nigel’s head hovered over Adam’s shoulder, and Adam liked how his warm breath tickled Adam’s ear when he talked. Nigel’s skin was warm underneath his clothes, where his front pressed against Adam’s back. He smelled like cigarettes and soap.

Adam nodded, relaxing against Nigel’s body. He was boxed in by Nigel’s legs and arms. He felt small, in a good way. Solid and held down.

Adam said, “I’m sorry my dad was so awful to you.”

Adam felt a rumble in Nigel’s chest when he answered. “It’s all right. I’m used to it.”

Adam scrunched his nose. “You shouldn’t be.”

Nigel tightened his grip. Adam sighed happily and snuggled more deeply into Nigel’s hold.

This was nice. Really nice. Adam understood then why Beth was always whining about wanting a boyfriend and someone to cuddle.

But he didn’t need a boyfriend, Adam mused. He had Nigel. He wondered if could ask Nigel to cuddle him again in the future, or if this was just one-time thing because Adam was upset.

After some time, Nigel said, “He’s kind of right.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

Adam blinked sleepily. His curls brushed the bottom of Nigel’s chin. “Who is?”

“Your dad. He’s kind of right.”

Adam twisted around, looking over his shoulder at Nigel’s face. “What do you mean, Nigel?”

Nigel shrugged uncomfortably. He dipped his chin on Adam’s shoulder. “You’ve a smart kid, Adam. And I’m... Well, I’m not exactly a good influence.”

Adam felt his skin start to heat up. “You’re not a bad influence on me, Nigel. You haven’t made me do anything bad.”

Nigel shifted a little bit. Adam leaned back into his hold. Adam turned his head inwards, his nose brushing against Nigel’s neck. The smell of cigarettes was stronger, and the familiar clean smell of soap, but there was something else too. Mellow and a little sugary. Shaving cream, maybe?

Adam said,“You’re a good influence on me. You’re nice to me. You listen to me talk about space. And before we started studying together, a lot of times, I just wouldn’t do my English homework because it frustrated me so much. Now I’ll at least try it.”

Nigel gave Adam a little squeeze. He nudged his nose into Adam’s curls. Adam waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

Adam said, “I don’t like it when you’re mean to yourself. Don’t do that.”

Nigel breathed out a sigh. After a moment, he said, “You’re right. But promise me you won’t be mean to yourself either.”

Adam shrugged. “I’ll try.”

They fell silent. Adam heard his own heartbeat in his ears. He was warm, a little uncomfortably so, but he didn’t want to move.

He wondered how long Nigel would hold him. He wondered if he kept himself very, very still, if that meant Nigel wouldn’t let go.

Adam closed his eyes. It only took him a few moments to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

They curled next to each other on Nigel’s bed, squinting at the little TV. The scent of cigarettes was stronger here, not as pleasant as the smell that came from Nigel himself. The brown drapes and gray carpet had a way of keeping hold of the scent, even when Nigel opened his tiny window, as it was now. A cold breeze from the New England fall ruffled Adam’s hair.

Adam sat with his head in Nigel’s lap, with a space documentary playing in the background. Every once in a while, Nigel’s fingers would dip into Adam’s curls: almost running through Adam’s hair, but not quite.

“My mom and I are thinking of moving soon,” Nigel said suddenly.

Adam shifted in Nigel’s lap, so that he was looking up and upside-down at Nigel’s face, rather than looking sideways at the screen.

“Oh!” Adam said. “Is that because of your new part-time job?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Nigel’s fingers drummed the bedspread next to him. His other hand rested on the top of Adam’s head. “I’m excited to get the fuck out of here.”

“I like being here with you, Ni. But I understand why you might not want to keep living here.” Adam paused. “Will you still live close?”

Nigel smiled. “Yeah. Just about the same distance.”

“Good.”Adam turned his head to look back at the documentary. He didn’t mind talking during it, since he had seen it so many times, but if they were done talking, he would go back to watching it.

Nigel noticed Adam shivering. He pulled a red plaid blanket off the bed and set it over Adam. Adam nuzzled into it. It smelled more like Nigel than the room did. Plain smoke, with an edge of cigarettes, and a deeper, muskier smell that was uniquely Nigel, which Adam recognized easily now.

Nigel continued resting a hand on Adam’s head. With his other hand, he occasionally grabbed a handful of popcorn, or his soda can, from the bedside table. He looked vaguely at the TV screen.

He was still high, probably. As he always did, he’d offered Adam weed, but Adam had refused. Adam didn’t like how it made him anxious. Though it could be fun every once in a while, if he was really in the mood.

“Beth rejected my invitation to the winter formal,” Adam said.

Nigel sputtered over his can of coca-cola. He lifted his free hand to wipe some of the liquid from his mouth.

“Why the fuck would she reject you?” Nigel said. “Is she fucking stupid? You’re handsome and kind and smart. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” He paused, squinting down at Adam. “You’re gorgeous! ”

Adam shrugged about as much as he could while laying on his side. Nigel finally started playing with his hair: first twirling the tips, then carding his hand through the strands. Adam hummed softly. Nigel’s grip was soft, but the light scrape of his nails against Adam’s scalp felt nice.

Nigel was silent for a moment. Then he breathed out, and said, “Aren’t you guys dating anyway? That’s what she said during our last study session.”

“I guess. But she said she didn’t want to go to the dance with me. She said it wouldn’t be fun.”

“That’s shitty, Adam.” Nigel’s voice had that tight, low quality that Adam knew signified annoyance. “Break up with her. Seriously.”

“Why? She was just being honest.”

“She should have fun with you! She should want to go because you want to go.”

“But I’d have to take breaks and stay far away from the speakers and maybe even step outside sometimes. That’s what wouldn’t be fun for her.”

“Fucking hell, Adam.” Nigel stopped playing with Adam’s hair. He looked down, quite seriously, into Adam’s face. “You’re not being unreasonable. You should be with someone who cares about you and fucking celebrates doing things for you. Not like Beth. She always acts like you’re a fucking burdern. Pisses me off.” Nigel let out a long, slow breath through his teeth. He muttered something unintelligible and angry-sounding in Romanian.

Adam was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Like you. You like doing things with me.” Adam had to look away from Nigel’s stare, which was dark and very focused and very intense. Adam was more comfortable, now, making eye contact with his friend, but that expression was a bit much.

Adam asked, “Would you have fun going to the dance with me?” Before he could lose courage, he said. “I think I would have a nice time with you. I wanted to ask you first, actually, but I thought Beth might be mad, since we’re dating and all.”

“You were dating,” Nigel said, his voice low and dark. It sent a little shiver down Adam’s spine. Then Nigel’s eyes widened. “You want to go to the dance with me?”

Adam made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “That’s what I just said.”

“Sorry, I...” Nigel shook his head. His hair was unstyled, falling in soft sweeps over his forehead. He’d told Adam that he didn’t like the way his hair looked without product, but Adam liked it. “Yeah, gorgeous. I’ll go to the dance with you.”

“Good.” Adam smiled broadly. He turned his head to the side again. The space program was almost at the part about black holes, which was his favorite.

Nigel went back to petting Adam’s hair, a strange hesitancy to his touch.

*

Nigel looked gorgeous. Not that Adam had expected otherwise. Still, Nigel took Adam’s breath away when he opened the door. Nigel wore a charcoal suit with faint stripes and a striking red shirt. His hair was combed back and styled more severely than usual, highlighting his broad forehead and sharp cheekbones.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Nigel said when Adam opened the door.

Adam let out some kind of undignified squeak. He cleared his throat.

“Hi, Nigel. You look gorgeous.”

“Takes one to know one.” Nigel smiled, warm and crooked. Adam stood aside to let him in.

When Nigel walked past, Adam caught an aggressive scent of a pine-like cologne, with just the faintest whiff of cigarettes. No soap. It wasn’t bad, but Adam missed how he normally smelled.

He soon forgot all about it, though, because Nigel pinned a bright red carnation to his lapel. Nigel had a similar carnation pinned to his, except his carnation was blue.

“That way we match,” Nigel said. “We have a little piece of each other.”

Adam smiled, a tugging feeling in his chest. Adam was dressed in a deep blue shirt and a black suit. He liked how the black suit accentuated his torso and made him seem taller.

Nigel was standing less than a foot away from him. Nigel finished toying with the pin on the boutonniere, and stepped back.

Adam said, “Thank you, Nigel.”

“Of course, gorgeous. You’re my date.” Nigel reached for Adam’s hand. His skin was warm and rough. Even though they’d never held hands before, his touch felt familiar.

Nigel gave Adam’s hand a squeeze, then let go.

He said, “I figure the food there won’t be very good. We can go to that restaurant you like afterwards. What’s it called? The Mediterranean one?”

“Oh, Nigel. You don’t have to do that. It’s expensive.”

“I know that.” Nigel flashed a toothy grin. “I want to. What’s my job for if not treating my best friend?”

“I would like that, I think. Thank you.” Adam ducked his head. After a moment, he said, “You know, my dad thinks you deal drugs.”

Nigel’s nose wrinkles. “Adam, I thought you knew. I, uh. I am dealing drugs.” He coughed.

Adam blinked. “Why would I know? You said you worked in shipping and inventory.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what people call it.” Nigel shrugged. “And with the hours I work, I thought it was kind of obvious. Sorry.” His smile turned sheepish. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, Adam. Honest.”

“Oh.” Adam paused for a beat. “Well. It was still rude of my dad to assume.”

Nigel stared through him, a little smile on his face. It was one of those in-between expressions Adam couldn’t quite read.

“Is it dangerous?” Adam asked.

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Are you careful?”

“As much as I can be.”

Adam furrowed his brow. “Well, I don’t like that it’s dangerous, but at least you’re trying to stay safe. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Is that, uh,” Nigel extended an arm, leaning half-casually against the wall. “The only way you feel about it?”

Adam fiddled with the button at the top of his collar. He wasn’t wearing a tie, since he didn’t like the constricting feeling on his throat. “How else should I feel about it?”

“I don’t know. You just surprise me sometimes.”

Adam shrugged. He was starting to get antsy. He didn’t want to think about Nigel putting himself in danger. Still, he wasn’t quite able to get the thought of his head.

“Is it very dangerous?” Adam asked, his voice rising.

Nigel looked at him. His eyes were soft at the edges, the same way he looked at Adam when they watched television in his room.

“It’s not very dangerous, Adam. I promise.” Nigel extended his arm. Adam started at it for a moment.

“Do you want to take my arm?” Nigel’s voice lowered. “Then I’ll walk you to the car.”

Adam blushed. “Oh.”

He put a tentative hand on Nigel’s arm. Even through the thick suit fabric, Adam could feel the toned muscle. His blush deepened. Nigel lead them out the door and out towards the car.

“You’re very romantic,” Adam said. Nigel nearly tripped over his shoes in response.

“Adam, you can’t...” Nigel trailed off. He coughed. “Never mind.” They paused in front of the car.

Adam bit the inside of his cheek. He knew Nigel was straight. Nigel had told him as much, one day when Adam asked him, out of the blue. They were going to the dance as friends. Adam reminded him that even if he felt a certain way, that didn't mean the other person did, too. 

He wondered if he should apologize, but by then they had reached the car.

“Wish I could have gotten you a limo,” Nigel said, with a chuckle that sounded only half-joking.

“You’re thinking about prom.” Adam opened the passenger door, collecting himself. “Besides, I like your car.”

Adam sat down and breathed in the familiar scent of the leather seats, the cinnamon air freshener. He had to pull his legs up in the small space. He wondered how Nigel’s long legs even fit.

Nigel pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and drove them the short distance to the dance. Soon, they would be in an auditorium filled with people. And loud music. And strong smells, probably. Adam's hands started fluttering against his thighs.

He felt Nigel’s warm hand over his. Nigel smiled when Adam caught his eye.

“We can leave as soon as you want. And take breaks.”

Nigel gave Adam’s hand a squeeze, then slid his hand away. Adam felt the phantom warmth prickling over his tendons. He wished Nigel had kept his hand there for longer, but he felt calmer already.

They pulled into the school. Adam waited before opening the door. Long enough for Nigel to make his own way out and open Adam’s door.

Nigel offered Adam his hand. Adam took it, and this time, he didn’t let go.

Nigel parked a block or so away from the school, on a tree-lined sidestreet. A few stark streetlights spilled their light. The air was crisp and cold, tickling the fine hairs on the inside of Adam's nose.

He could see the school, looming overhead like some horrible castle in a fairytale, lit by too-fluorescent street lights and decorated with pink banners. He heard the throngs of high-school students ahead, laughing and chatting. Nigel led him to the school gymnasium, attentive, a step ahead, yet matching his pace to Adam’s. Nigel’s broad frame cut through the throng of people by the entrance. The dance floor wasn’t much better, with colorful bodies on all sides, but the crowd thinned out towards the back of the gymnasium.

They stood against the wall The lighting was dim, with LED lights of pink and blue. Something crunched under Adam’s foot. He knelt down to examine it.

“That’s strange.” He handed Nigel the round, synthetic rock, transparent and blue. “They just put these on the ground? Are they for decoration?”

Nigel took the object and held it up to the light. “Like an aquarium.” He lowered his arm and chuckled. “Only an American high school would do this.”

“Aren’t they worried people will trip?”

Adam smiled, and Nigel smiled back. He felt his nerves settle a bit. He took a deep, calming breath. This wasn’t so bad. The music was loud, but they were near the back. The gym was familiar, with its row of bleachers and pale flooring. The dark lighting interspersed with neon was different, but nice: the gym fluorescents normally gave him a headache.

Adam snuck a look at Nigel, who stood standing with his hands against his thighs. As if he wanted to bunch them into his pockets, and, not having pockets, didn’t know what do with them. Adam’s heart fluttered, but not with nerves this time. Nigel stared out into the crowd, a faint smile on his lips.

Adam believed it that smile. Nigel wanted to be here. He was happy to be standing at the back of the room, with Adam. Even though he looked like a prince in a fairytale and easily could have been the center of attention. Nigel was just waiting. Just being with him. And he was smiling. That was enough.

“Do you want to dance?” Adam asked.

Nigel’s smile was slight yet blinding. His eyes crinkled on the corners, the way he did only when he was genuinely happy. It wasn’t like the bright, toothy grin he could flash at a moment’s notice, though Adam liked that smile too.

Nigel placed his broad hand on the small of Adam’s back. Adam straightened at the touch. Nigel took Adam’s hand and pulled Adam closer to him, so that Adam’s gaze was level with the maroon knot at Nigel’s throat.

The music was some loud, indiscernible pop music, yet Nigel swayed like they were in a ballroom. The music seemed to dissipate in Adam’s ears.

His senses were filled with Nigel. Nigel’s sharp nose tilted down towards Adam’s shoulder. Adam felt the heat of Nigel’s hand on his back and clasped around his fingers. This close, Adam could catch a hint of the familiar scent of Nigel’s skin, his soap and cigarettes, beneath the synthetic pine.

Nigel guided him, turning in a slow, gentle circle. Adam was worried about stepping on Adam’s feet, but they moved so slowly there was no risk of it.

Adam let himself relax. He shuffled closer until they were almost pressed together, then nosed along Nigel’s neck and shoulder. Nigel let go of Adam’s hand and brought his hand up Adam’s back, resting in Adam’s curls.

Adam shivered. He relaxed his body against Nigel, pressing his cheek into Nigel’s shoulder. He heard—and felt—Nigel sigh.

They stood like that, swaying gently, until the end of the song. The next one was even louder, with thumping bass. They were pushing it with the last one, but they definitely couldn’t sway slowly to this one.

Adam pulled back with a laugh. His eyes blinked open. He felt like he was waking from a dream. His heart twisted in his chest. He couldn’t quite look in Nigel’s eyes.

Nigel’s voice was so soft. Adam had to lean in to hear him.

“Do you want to take a break?”

Adam shook his head. “No. Let’s keep dancing.” He met Nigel’s eyes, which looked at him with that impossible softness and fondness. “You’re a very good dancer.”

Nigel laughed. “That wasn’t exactly dancing. I thought we might start with something easier.”

Nigel opened his arms, and Adam stepped into them. The position felt familiar to him, even though they had only danced once before.

“Just follow my lead,” Nigel said. He twirled around, in time to the music, but slower than the beat. Adam followed easily, stepping forward and backward and around, Nigel’s hand pushing gently on his lower back. Holding him.

Adam peeked over Nigel’s shoulders. He didn’t much care what other people were doing, but he was curious, and he had barely paid any attention to his surroundings earlier.

Most people danced next to each other, arms flailing. A lot of them stood around and maybe moved their bodies from side to side. It wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t how Nigel was dancing with him.

Nigel shifted Adam away from him, and Adam followed the line of his arm. The momentum sent Adam spinning, twirling underneath Nigel’s arm. Adam felt a faint breeze on his face.

Then Nigel caught him again. Adam laughed, exhilarated. Their steps quickened. Nigel was staring at him. His eyes didn’t leave Adam’s face, except when they spun a few more times.

The song ended, and Adam leaned into Nigel’s shoulder.

“Time for a break?” Nigel asked, and Adam nodded.

They stood back against the wall. Adam was breathing heavily, and he felt a faint flush on his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he had become exerted.

He jumped at the feeling of Nigel’s fingers along his cheek.

“Sorry.” Nigel’s voice was low. He tucked a curl behind Adam’s ear. Adam hoped his face wasn’t sweaty. “One of your curls got loose.”

Adam laughed. He shook his head, curls bouncing. “They’re all loose.” He smiled widely. Usually, he abhorred the stubbornness of his hair, the way strands would fall out of place unless he kept his hair uncomfortably short, but not right now. “Thank you, Nigel.”

Adam tilted his head, searching Nigel’s face. He wondered if Nigel would benefit from the same favor: but his hear was as neat as it had been earlier in the night, pushed back from his forehead, with a few strands falling handsomely—and seeming intentionally—over his forehead. Adam wished one of them would fall out of place in a non-intentional way, so he could push it back.

Nigel’s gaze fixed on Adam’s lips. His hands reached for Adam’s lower back, seemingly without realizing, and pulled Adam closer. His other hand cupped Adam’s cheek. His expression was unreadable. Like his soft, fond gaze, that Adam had become familiar with, but more intense somehow.

“Is another curl loose?” Adam asked. He turned into Nigel’s touch and felt his lashes flutter against Nigel’s fingertips. Nigel’s hand spread warmth along his lower back.

Nigel’s smile quirked up. “No, Adam. You look gorgeous.” He hesitated for a moment. Then, he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of Adam’s head. It happened so quickly—and the contact of his lips was so brief—that Adam wasn’t entirely sure it had happened. Adam blinked.

“You look very handsome,” Nigel said, formal, and then stepped back.

Adam’s nose crinkled. Wasn’t that what Nigel had just said, in slightly different words. “Okay?”

“I’m thirsty,” Nigel announced. “I’m going to find us some water. Are you okay here on your own?”

He barely waited for Adam to nod before all-but-sprinting away. Adam watched his tall figure cut through the crowd.

Adam leaned back against the cold wall and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes scanned the ballroom. He didn’t understand a lot of the dresses: the bright, too-glossy colors, and the material that looked like it could be plastic. Wouldn’t that feel terrible against your skin?

“Adam!” he heard from a few feet away.

He scanned the crowd and saw Beth, in a purple, multi-tiered dress, make her way towards him. She had a corsage around her wrist and black liner around her eyes.

Adam smiled when Beth got closer. “Hi, Beth.” He inclined his head at her. “Are you having fun?”

“I am, thank you.” Her smile grew. Maybe she was happy he had asked. Her dark eyes glanced over at him. “Are you?”

Adam nodded.

“I didn’t expect you to be here.” She looked around curiously. “Are you here alone?”

“No. I’m here with Nigel. He’s getting us some water.”

Beth turned to scan the ballroom. She caught the eye of a group of girls in similarly colorful dresses and waved to them. Adam was glad she had come and talked to him, though he would rather have been with Nigel.

Beth brushed some of her long, black hair off her bare shoulders. “So.” She drew the word out in a strange way. “You and Nigel. Are you dating now?”

Adam paused. What was the etiquette for talking about this with someone you had dated? But, well, Beth had asked him. And he and Beth had only dated for a brief time before Adam ended it. They hadn’t even been boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Oh, no.” Adam felt a tightening in his chest.

Nigel was his best friend. He was happy about that: he really was. Even if he would have liked something more, he had to accept that Nigel didn’t feel the same way. Couldn’t feel the same way. So there was no point in bringing it up.

“Nigel isn’t gay,” Adam explained. “He’s also not bisexual. I asked.”

Beth’s eyebrows rose. “Oh,” she said, her mouth also making a round little oh.

“We’re very good friends.” Adam wasn’t sure why he was still talking. “And that’s okay.”

Beth crossed her arms. Her nails were painted the same purple as her dress. “Is that okay, Adam? Really?”

Adam’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well.” Beth waved a hand in a vague movement in front of her. “It sounds like you might like him. That’s all.”

Adam’s expression cleared. “Oh! I understand. Yes, I do like him. If he had an interest in men, and if he also liked me, I would be dating him. I never would have dated you.” Adam nodded. “But he doesn’t, and we’re not. It was nice of him to bring me to the dance.”

“Adam.” Beth’s mouth twisted in a way he recognized as displeasure. “What the fuck.”

Adam opened his mouth, about to ask what he had done wrong, when he saw Nigel appear with two water bottles.

“Hi, Beth,” Nigel said.

“You can be a real jerk sometimes,” Beth said, to Adam. Without turning, she said, “Hi, Nigel.”

She walked back into the crowd, leaving Nigel holding two plastic bottles of water, clouded with cold.

Nigel handed Adam one of the bottles. “What was that about?”

Adam shrugged. The twisting feeling intensified, sinking down to his stomach now. He had never talked about his feelings with Nigel, and never intended to. He knew how uncomfortable it was when other people expected things from him that he couldn’t provide. Put feelings on him that he didn’t have. Adam didn’t want to put his best friend in the same position. Still, it was hard not to share this when they shared everything else.

“Adam?” Nigel looked at him intently. His hand reached out, and Adam stepped back.

“I think I hurt her feelings.” Adam’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure how. I’ll ask her about it during our study session tomorrow.”

Nigel looked at him with concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Nigel untwisted the cap of his water bottle and took a long swig. The strange lighting highlighted the curve of Nigel’s neck in pink, a stark shadow falling down the length of his throat. Adam tried—and failed—to not look at the way Nigel’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

He resorted to closing his eyes. Maybe asking Nigel to bring him to the dance had been a bad idea.

“Do you want to sit down?” Nigel’s voice was soft and caring. “There are some chairs in the lobby.”

Adam sighed. He opened his eyes and took a drink from his water bottle. The cold shock felt good against his tongue. Grounding. “No. I’m all right.”

“Okay.” Nigel paused, considering. “Do you want to keep dancing?”

Adam didn’t think he could handle Nigel touching him. Adam would want to lean in. Closer. Closer still. He felt his hand start to beat against his thigh.

“I think I want to leave,” Adam said.

Nigel nodded, his lips pressing together. Adam allowed himself to grab Nigel’s offered hand. Nigel cleared a path through the crowd, his broad shoulders allowing Adam a comfortable path through the dancing bodies. Adam wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of Axe body spray.

Adam felt better outside. He could see pinpricks of stars. Faint, through the yellow haze of streetlights. He stood still for a few moments, staring into space, before he took stock of the rest of his surroundings. Nigel had an expression he knew as concerned. Adam felt a pang of guilt.

“I had fun,” he says to Nigel. “I liked dancing with you.” That wasn't a lie. “I’m just done now.”

“That’s fine.” Nigel ran a hand lightly along Adam’s back. He dropped it when he felt Adam tense. “Do you want to go home?”

Adam looked sideways at his friend. He expected Nigel to be annoyed, at least a little. Even when people said they were fine with Adam wanting to leave, or needing to take a break, they never meant it.

But Nigel’s expression was open and fond and attentive. His tongue poked out, just a bit, between his lips, in concentration. Like Adam was important. Like Adam was worth concentrating over.

Was he?

“I’m a little hungry,” Adam admitted. He felt unsteady, but he didn’t want to go home. And even if he felt confused, sometimes, being around Nigel, he still found it grounding. He could still catch that faint and familiar scent, of cigarettes and soap and skin, under the synthetic pine of Nigel’s cologne. “Would you still like to get dinner?”

Nigel pushed back his hair, but in a way that dislodged the gel, and allowed his hair to fall more naturally over his forehead. He smiled again. Adam didn’t think he’d ever ever seen someone smile at him so many times in one night.

Nigel said, “It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

Nigel’s new apartment could be in a magazine, or a movie, as the sort of modern, expensive ideal that no-one’s space could actually look like. Except Nigel’s does. His apartment it all dark wood and white appliances and windowed walls overlooking the city.

Adam pauses in the doorway, wondering if he should take off his shoes. Nigel doesn’t, though. His leather oxfords clack against the tile floor as he strides through the open floor plan to the kitchen, taking the top off of a dish that’s on the stove. The house smells nice, savory and warm.

“I made some traditional Romanian dishes.” Nigel smiles up at Adam over the pot. “This is balmos. Cheesy polenta, pretty much. I think you’ll like it.” He places the top back on the dish. “I made you mac and cheese, too, in case you don’t.”

“Thank you, Nigel.”

Adam suddenly feels that he has to take off his shoes. He places them neatly next to the door. The floor seeps through to his soles, cold even through his thick black socks. He flexes his toes.

Strange, strange. It all feels strange. Adam takes a deep breath. He knows things will be different, of course. He’s gotten better at handling change in his adult life: living on his own, moving to California without Beth. (Funny, to think they had dated and broken up twice).

But Nigel has always been a constant for him. Even when Nigel visited, in his dark suits and strange smells, and new stories, he still felt like Nigel.

The Nigel in the kitchen has a familiar expression, a soft, vague smile on his face, puttering about the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Still, his actions haven’t made sense to Adam since moving back.

Is he any stranger than he was before? Or is it seeing him here, in a new house, that makes the strangeness compound? Nigel had hinted at a fancy date—and even used that word—even though it was dinner at home. Adam had never dressed up to see Nigel, except for the one time they went to the winter formal. Should Adam be nervous?

“Nigel.” Adam tracks Nigel’s movements from across the room.

Nigel looks up at Adam’s voice, attentive and expectant. He straightens from the plates he’d been bending over.

Adam continues. “When you moved back, why did you move to California? Why didn’t you go back to Connecticut?” Adam swallows. “Your mom still lives there.”

“That’s easy.” Nigel places his forearms against the white kitchen island, leaning his weight against them. Adam watches the slant of his body. He’s tall. “You’re in California.”

Adam’s mouth goes dry. “Just like that?”

“Yup. Just like that.”

Nigel balances two plates on his arm. Adam wonders why he bothers, since he has two hands. Nigel sets the plates to a table in front of the window, covered by a white tablecloth and crystal tea-light holders. He sets the plates down and, with a lighter procured from his pocket, begins to light the candles.

Adam knows he’s expected to follow Nigel to the table. Yet he feels rooted to the spot.

A strand of hair falls down Nigel’s forehead. He looks the way he did at the winter formal, Adam realizes, so many years ago: except then Adam felt like they were dressing up together, playing a game with the same rules, the same way they curled up to play video games on the couch. But now Adam doesn’t know the rules. He feels lost. He suddenly feels like he’s about to cry.

Nigel appears at his side. His face is etched with concern, a cloying focus to his gaze. Adam feels his skin prickle with the intensity.

Nigel’s hand grips Adam’s upper arm. Adam doesn’t know whether to lean into the touch or away.

“Adam. Are you all right?”

Adam nods. Then he shakes his head. His eyes feel hot and prickly.

Nigel lets go of Adam’s arm. Adam slides his gaze away.

“Adam.” Nigel’s voice is low, grounding. “What do you want?”

“I want...” Adam sniffles. He brushes a hand through his curls, but that doesn’t stop the shaking of his fingers. He feels young and small and tired. “I want to curl up with you on the couch and play video games.”

Nigel wouldn’t laugh at him. Nigel has never laughed at him. yet a part of Adam still expects him to, when he looks up shyly to gauge his friend’s reaction.

Nigel’s lips slacken, soften into a smile. His expression envelops Adam like a warm hug. Open. Loving. What has Adam ever done to deserve such love?

“Of course, Adam. We can do that.” Nigel runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t have Super Smash but I can, uh, buy it. We’ll have to wait for it to download, though.”

Adam laughs. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and then drops them, deciding to let his hands flutter.

He says, “I’m not anxious or angry, Ni”

Nigel’s brow furrows. “Then what’s wrong?”

“I’m confused.” Adam shrugs. They’re still standing by the doorway, staring at each other. “Can we go to the couch now?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Nigel guides him through the rectangle of the apartment, to the sunken living room. Adam wrinkles his nose at the brown leather couch, which looks cold and uncomfortable.

Nigel hesitates for a moment, then removes his suit jacket, followed by his belt. He folds them neatly and places them on the floor, next to his shoes. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his dark dress shirt and untucks it from his slacks.

Then he lays down on the couch, his back against the armrest, his long legs spread over the length of the couch. Adam barely gives him the chance to get settled before settling his body on top of Nigel’s. He presses his torso against Nigel’s and buries his head in Nigel’s shoulder.

“Whoah.”

Nigel’s voice rumbles against Adam’s chest when he talks. He raises a cautious hand to card through Adam’s hair. Adam wriggles against him.

“You still smell the same,” Adam says, against Nigel’s neck. “Except for the cologne. I don’t like when you wear cologne.”

Nigel chuckles. “Then I’ll stop wearing it.”

He plays with Adam’s hair in the way Adam likes, gentle and slow, brushing against the scalp. Nigel wraps his other hand around Adam’s back and presses Adam close to his chest.

They sit like that for a while. Adam regulates his breath to Nigel’s steady heartbeat. Adam feels small, but in a nice way. A held way. He almost feels a little silly for his discomfort earlier, but there’s still something raw and nervous in his chest.

“What are you confused about, gorgeous?” Nigel asks.

Adam sighs. He sits up so he’s stradling Nigel’s hips. Then, rests his hands on Nigel’s upper arms. Nigel does the same, his hold gentle yet solid. Nigel’s head tilts upwards to look at Adam, revealing the fine line of his throat.

Nigel says, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No. I do want to.” Adam wonders if he should change positions for this conversation. Their pose is a little, well, suggestive. But it’s Nigel.

Woefully straight, platonic Nigel.

Adam says, “I didn’t understand why you didn’t want to see me right after you got back. I mean, you told me why, with wanting to unpack your apartment and all, but that doesn’t seem like enough of a reason. I’m sorry. I believe you. I know you wouldn’t lie to me. But it doesn’t seem like enough.”

Nigel’s face crumbles. “Adam—”

Nigel’s hand slides down Adam’s arm. He rests it along Adam’s back, rubbing small circles through the soft fabric of Adam’s shirt.

“I was nervous to see you,” Nigel admits.

Adam tilts his head. “But why? I’m your best friend.”

“You first,” Nigel prompts. “It sounded like you weren’t done talking. What else are you confused about?”

“Oh. Right.” Adam breathes out, short and heavy through his nose, before launching into his speech. “Then you invited me for dinner, and made it sound all fancy. You called it a date. Which implies it’s romantic, but I know you didn’t mean it that way, because you’re straight. But then we met and everything was different and you were all dressed up. And it was nice because it was you, but it was strange because it was all different. And I still felt strange about how you hadn’t wanted to see me right away.” Adam paused for a second, then said, “Also I don’t like your apartment. It’s all fancy and cold and impersonal. It looks like it could be in a magazine.”

Nigel’s mouth parts, a curious blankness falling over his eyes. Adam resists the urge to run his thumb over Nigel’s plump lips.

Nigel says, “This is a date. I said that.”

Adam cocks his head. “But a friend date? Like when you spend time with someone? You know the expression, it’s a date? Like that.”

“No. It’s a date date.” Nigel laughs, a little incredulous. He squeezes at Adam’s hips, and Adam jumps a little. “For fuck’s sake, Adam, I cooked for you. I made dinner for you. I lit candles. I...” Nigel coughs. “Jesus, Adam, I gelled my hair back for you. I mean, I always gell it back, but I used the strong stuff. I don’t bother with that shit unless I really like someone.”

“Oh.” Adam fidgets, blinks, worries at his lower lip. He doesn’t know what to say.

After a moment, Nigel says, “Why do you think I’m straight?”

This is a direct question that Adam can answer. “You told me.”

“What?” Nigel’s voice rises, sharp, then falls again. “When?”

Adam shrugs. “When we first became friends.”

“That was years ago!”

“But you never told me otherwise. How was I supposed to know?”

Nigel’s still staring up at him, face intense and unreadable. Adam slides off of Nigel’s body and stands next to the couch.

Nigel sits up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the couch, and pats the couch cushion next to him.

Adam sits down again, gingerly, a few inches from Nigel. Nigel swings his arm around Adam’s shoulder and pulls him close. Adam closes his eyes, leaning his shoulder against Nigel’s, his face turned close to Nigel’s face. They share the same breath for several moments.

“I’ve had feelings for you for years,” Adam says, eyes still closed. “I thought you didn’t feel the same way. I wanted to be respectful.”

Nigel laughs. Dry, a little hopeless. “Adam—”

Nigel takes a deep breath. He cups Adam’s face in his hands, sweeping his broad thumb along the underside of Adam’s jaw. Adam opens his eyes, obedient.

Nigel’s voice is quiet, his accent thickening and softening his words. “You’re the only person who ever believed in me. You’re the first person who ever told me I was smart.” He laughs again, a little less spite in the sound. “You probably don’t even remember that. You said I was the smartest person in our math class.”

Nigel’s hands stroke Adam’s face as he talks. His fingers can’t seem to stop moving, dancing patterns over his best friend’s skin. He brushes back Adam’s curls, traces the lines of Adam’s temples, dip along the bridge of Adam’s nose. Adam barely dares to breathe.

Nigel says, “You defended me against your dad. You didn’t even judge me for dealing drugs. You always...” Nigel swallows heavily. “You always saw the best of me. Even when I didn’t.” Nigel takes in a low breath, a little unsteady. A smile cracks his lips. “I wanted to get my degree and a fancy job like yours and make lots of money so I can spoil you.”

Adam closes his eyes to better appreciate the feeling of Nigel’s touch. “I never cared about any of that,” he says. “I only ever wanted you.”

Nigel almost whispers. “I know, Adam. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “I just... I just wanted to be the best version of myself for you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Adam opens his eyes. Nigel has leaned in, a few mere inches from his face. “You never have to change anything for me, Nigel. But as long as you’re happy, I don’t mind the other stuff. I’m proud of you for your job. And you can still spoil me. I would like that.” He tilts his head to the side, and says, a little bashful, “I’ve been wanting a new telescope.”

Nigel laughs. Adam thinks of how much he loves the sound.

“It’s very expensive,” Adam adds, in case Nigel hasn’t realized.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.” Nigel brushes his thumb across the swell of Adam’s cheekbone, right underneath his eye. “Can I kiss you now?”

The word kiss is barely out of Nigel’s mouth when Adam leans forward. Nigel’s lips are smooth, firm. Nigel falls back against the armrest, not prepared for the force of Adam’s movement.. Adam’s lips chase after his.

Nigel recovers quickly. He pushes back into Adam’s kiss and drops his arms around Adam’s back. Adam breaks from the kiss long enough to maneuver Nigel’s legs over the couch and shimmy onto Nigel’s lap.

Adam feels Nigel’s laugh in their kiss, in Nigel’s chest pressed against his. With Adam on his lap, Nigel leans up into the kiss.

Nigel sweeps his tongue over Adam’s lips and Adam opens his mouth, eager. He feels a grounding warmth pooling in his stomach, and a giddy lightness in his chest. The two sensations clash, but not in a bad way. Adam directs Nigel’s head, deepening their kiss, by grabbing a fistful of Nigel’s hair. Nigel follows easily. This gives Adam some ideas for how to direct him in the bedroom.

Just for fun, Adam scrunches up Nigel’s straight, silky hair, mussing it as much as possible. Nigel hums and nips at Adam’s lower lip in response. They trade kisses between laughter, breathless. They kiss long enough for Nigel’s stomach to growl a few times. Quietly, at first. Then loud enough that Nigel pulls back with a blush.

“My bad,” he says, fluttering his lashes over his eyes. “I thought we’d be eating dinner.”

Adam laughs. He tucks a strand of Nigel’s hair behind his ear, just because he can. Adam hasn’t thought about food or his schedule since settling on the couch, but he knows it’ll probably hit him like a brick in the next hour or so.

Adam nuzzles into Nigel’s neck. “You went to the effort of making such a wonderful dinner. I’d love to try it.”

Adam is excited for dinner, and not nervous, because it’s Nigel. Adam thinks of the pot of mac-and-cheese accompanying it, how Nigel considers his needs, how Nigel understands him and wants him to be comfortable. Adam’s heart flutters. He doesn’t have to ask to know that Nigel had remembered, and cooked, his favorite brand.

“Hmm.” Nigel wraps his arms around Adam’s neck and chases for another kiss. “It’ll be hard to leave.”

“We can keep kissing after dinner.” Adam peppers Nigel’s forehead with kisses, then his temple, following a similar path that Nigel had traced earlier on Adam’s face with his fingers. “Then we can actually play video games. And then we can have sex. If you want.”

Adam looks down at his best friend. Nigel’s flush has an unusually ruddy quality.

“Fuck.” Nigel coughs. A fake cough that’s not really a cough, but for clearing his throat.

Adam asks, “Would you like that?”

“I would, Adam. I really, really would.” Nigel’s eyes are dark and shiny. “It’s just, I can’t promise... I didn’t think that, uh. That, is, I. I don’t know.” He laughs, a little higher pitched than normal.

Adam looks at him inquisitively.

Nigel’s voice quiets. “I feel really nervous.”

Adam considers that for a moment.

“Good nervous?” Adam asks.

Nigel shrugs—a slight, terse rise of his shoulders. “Nervous nervous.”

Adam squeezes Nigel’s shoulder. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do, Ni. I want you to be comfortable.”

Adam moves his hand up Nigel’s shoulder, over the dark collar of Nigel’s button-up shirt. He dips his thumb over the rise of Nigel’s throat, then slips under the collar to explore the hollow of Nigel’s throat. Adam gets lost in the motion for a few moments, then realizes he hasn’t finished his thought.

“I’d be happy to stay how we’ve always been,” Adam says. “Though I am happy for things to change. You know. Romantically.”

Nigel laughs, a gruff edge of relief to it. “Adam Raki, approving of change. What has the world come to.”

“Hey,” Adam punches Nigel’s shoulder, lightly. He knows Nigel is teasing. After all, Nigel has always supported how Adam copes with change.While moving to New York City, Adam had long phone conversations with Nigel, leaning on his friend for support. After the move, Nigel had said I’m proud of you .

Nigel’s eyes sparkle. “You must really like me then,” he says, that teasing note in his voice.

“I do,” Adam says, completely sincere. Nigel’s expression drops into surprise, then embarrassment, then softness.

Adam savors the familiarity, the lack of need to guess. And if he ever wasn’t sure of Nigel’s feelings, he knows he could ask Nigel, and Nigel would respond honestly, without making a big deal out of it.

“Let’s finish our date,” Adam announces.

He gets up off the couch and offers Nigel his hand. Nigel’s steps are delicate, almost, and he leans slightly into Adam as they make their way to the kitchen. Their hands clasp together, a bloom of something new yet familiar between them.