Chapter Text
Nathan was acting strange, or at least stranger than what was already expected of him. He’d been nice all day, which Simon thought was an impossibility for the Irishman seeing as how he usually couldn't go five minutes without offending someone. Well, Simon reminded himself, he’d been quite rude to Kelly when they left the tattoo parlor, essentially telling her to piss off. Maybe there was hope after all.
“You’re so cute when you’re all quiet and lost in thought,” Nathan praised, head tilted as he studied the other man.
There it was again, that strange, overt… Simon tried to think of a synonym for flirting that did not imply… whatever flirting implied, but came up empty-handed. The two of them were sitting by the reeling looking down at the empty halls of the community center. They were “just having some quality bro-time”, which once again, was strange. Behind them was the depressing, run-down mattress and messy pile of clothes that Nathan called home and Simon couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt knowing Nathan had to sleep there every night while he got to return to his own warm bed at home.
“Thanks, I think,” Simon mumbled and Nathan let out a light laugh, shuffling closer to Simon as he did so.
“Have you always been this funny?” He pondered even though Simon had not tried to be funny at all. Strange indeed.
They drank their lukewarm beer while listening to “Careless Whisper” softly playing in the background, a choice of music Simon wouldn't have guessed Nathan would go for, but didn't mind either. The curly haired teen proceeded to start telling him some (frankly worrying) story of how his mother's friend had touched him as a little boy and Simon was just about to verbalize his concern when he felt a warm hand on his legs. Suddenly Nathan was very close and it made Simon’s throat close up, his words dying out before they even had the chance to escape his mouth. And then there were lips, warm, gentle lips. Nathan’s lips. On his lips. Simon desperately pushed him away once he’d regained his motor skills and critical thinking and the other boy gave him a wounded look in return.
“It's okay, we don't have to fight any longer!” Nathan reassured him but Simon was already running down the stairs, at this point being sure the entire thing was either a cruel prank or the product of some of the power-bullshit they always got themselves into.
“Simon, don't go!” Nathan cried behind him, “We don't have to go all the way, we can just cuddle!”
Simon hesitated, slowing down his pace until he wasn't moving at all, “just cuddling?” he asked.
Nathan’s eyes lit up and he jumped to his feet, leaning over the railing to get a proper look at the object of his affection.
“Sure, if that’s what you want!” He nodded reassuringly, “We can start there and work our way up to dry humping.”
Simon looked at him, eyes narrowed, and turned around again. He walked away to the sound of Nathan’s desperate shouting and his own rapid thoughts trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
~~~~
Ok, so I loved you, big deal.
If we'd have- That would've been the best sex you've ever had.
Correction, that would've been the only sex you've ever had.
Nathan stared up at the ceiling, a cigarette lazily resting between his lips, the smoke creating swirly clouds in the air. According to his barely functional flip phone, the time was almost half past three and yet he couldn't get his stupid brain to shut off. He wasn't usually the type of person to dwell on things, actually, his preferred method of dealing with anything was to internalize it and never think about it again. Would there be a day when that mindset fucked him in the ass? Most likely, but it was long until then, and he was happy letting future-Nathan deal with it.
He took another drag of the cigarette and closed his eyes as he exhaled.
You don't know how much I've always wanted to do that.
I can't pretend any longer.
What did that mean anyway? Nathan pondered, annoyed at himself for not being able to let the whole thing go already. He desperately tried to push the tattoo-induced memories away and yet he couldn't help but wonder about that love spell… He knew it had made him crazy and horny but had it made him outright lie? It hadn’t felt like it in the moment. He’d really wanted to, not only shag Simon’s brains out, but also spent the rest of his gay, immortal life with him. And that’s what was fucking his brain sideways, the fear that the spell hadn't made him lie, but instead only brought forth what was already there. What if the spell worked like a strong shot of vodka, making him incredibly horny, yes, but also tearing his walls down, making all that internalized shit rise to the surface. The spell wasn't supposed to make him change the way he experienced the past, so why had he been talking about Simon like his infatuation had been there all along? As far as he knew he didn't have a crush on the weird-kid, never had.
He groaned, taking a last inhale of the cig before putting it out on the cold granite floor. Who cared what it all meant , he told himself for what felt like the tenth time that night. Tired, he reached for the white sock tucked away in the corner and hastily started unbuckling his pants.
Maybe a good wank will make me forget this whole thing ever happened , Nathan thought, And if not, it’s still a good wank.
When he, an embarrassing couple of minutes later, threw the damp sock back into the corner, all thoughts about the love spell had faded. Now the only thing he was trying to push away from his mind was the name which had, in some fucked up universal irony, rolled off his tongue as he came.
That little bastard gets under your skin, doesn't he?
~~~
Simon thought that the whole “I briefly fell in love with you because of a magical tattoo but now I’m all good again”-thing would create an awkward tension between the two boys but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Nathan was talking to him more and more each day and Simon found himself lingering behind in the locker room, willingly for once, seeking out the company of the other boy. They would tease each other, Nathan pushing him lightly, calling him a “sodding melon-fucker” and Simon responding with “you wish you were a melon then?”. Finally, Simon had something he could hold over Nathan’s head, something he could cut back with everytime the Irishman called him one of his absurd and oddly creative insults. And to his surprise, Nathan didn't mind his newfound confidence but instead reveled in it. The more Simon bit back the more Nathan would push.
It felt like the change had been gradual, like a tide, slowly but surely making the water rise. It started with that brief “So you don't love me anymore?” and after that it just became an effortless dance between the two. Nathan would even follow him home on the days when Simon’s parents worked late, the two of them staying up to watch a movie that Nathan always found a way to critique.
It wasn't even planned the first time it happened. Nathan had just tagged along with Simon on his way home, passionately discussing what porn category was the best one. Apparently high produced porn with laughably bad acting was the Irishman's favourite and apparently Simon was a “sad excuse of a virgin” for not having an opinion on the matter. Suddenly they had been standing outside of Simon’s house and Simon had blurted out “You want to come inside?”, a part of him afraid that Nathan would say no and another part of him even more terrified that he’d say yes. Nathan ended up just shrugging, letting the other teen lead him inside to sheepishly give him a tour of the house.
Simons bedroom ended up being Nathan’s newest supplier for more endless teasing and Simon didn't even have the heart to pretend that he wasn't amused. He’d even make it a game to anticipate the next thing Nathan would poke fun at, much to the other man's irritation.
“That's not fair,” Nathan would say, “Yer not supposed to help me bully you, that takes away all the fun!”
It kept on happening after that. Nathan would never outright ask to come into the house but Simon knew that he'd never decline the offer either. It made Simon confused, Nathan was usually so outspoken and yet he couldn't even properly ask if they could hang out. It always had to be an implication, a happy coincidence. Simon wondered if he was ashamed to be hanging out with a “weird-kid”, as he so graciously had been labeled, or if he was just afraid of the possible rejection. Maybe the risk of Simon saying no outweighed the possibility of him saying yes.
“You're getting popcorn all over my bed,” Simon mumbled but Nathan just hushed at him loudly in response.
They were watching “The Silence of the Lambs” and Nathan seemed, for once, invested in the plot. He said it was just because Clarice Starling was a “hot piece of ass”, to which Simon responded that he was entirely missing the underlying message of female empowerment. Once again, such a remark earned him the title of “sad virgin” and Nathan throwing a handful of popcorn his way.
Secretly Simon though Nathan had gotten tired pretending to dislike the movies he kept on showing him. His criticisms had notably gone tame and at times he would even visibly root for the main characters, yelling out like a football hooligan when the story got intense.
“Are you scared, Barry?” Nathan whispered into his ear and Simon couldn't help but shiver at the warm air tingling his skin.
On the computer screen Clarice was sneaking around in the room, narrowly avoiding the killer lurking in the blinding darkness. It was arguably the scariest part of the movie but Simon had seen it before and he liked to think that made him a little bit less susceptible to the creepy music and rising tension.
“I'm fine,” he mumbled, trying to keep his eyes on the screen, avoiding the stupid smirk he knew Nathan had plastered across his face.
“Really?” the curly haired boy doubted, his lips, once again, way too close to Simon's ear, “Because you look like you're about to piss yourself.”
Simon glanced over at Nathan who in turn looked at him intently, having seemingly abandoned the movie entirely.
It was now Simons turn to smirk, “Why, do you wanna hold my hand?”
The comment had the desired effect as a deep blush crept up on Nathan's face, “You are such a-” he began but stopped himself, making a pained expression, his hands clawing at his throat. Suddenly he was laying down on the bed, gasping for air and looking at Simon with pleading eyes.
“What are you doing?” Simon panicked as Nathans breathing was becoming shorter by the second.
In desperation he heaved up the other boy’s now limp body, locked his arms around his stomach and pushed, thrusting Nathan upward. Instead of hearing a choking sound however, a burst of maniacal laughter bubbled up between the immortal boy's lips.
“Now look who’s in love,” he taunted and Simon gave him a hard push between his shoulder blades, letting go of his body.
“My sweet love, please don't die!” Nathan mocked Simon’s deep voice, taking his face between his hands like they were reenacting some cliche romance film.
“That wasn't funny,” Simon grumbled but Nathan just rolled his eyes, still resting his hands on the other man's harsh jawline.
“Don't be so dramatic,” he grinned, “I'm immortal anyway, no need to be worried.”
Simon said nothing, silently turning away from Nathan and gluing his eyes to the screen in front of him.
“Whatever,” he mumbled.
Nathan scoffed, apparently offended at the notion that Simon didn't find his fake death funny. Dramatically he let his body fall over Simon’s thighs, causing the other boy to give him a mixed look of confusion and surprise. Nathan just returned his furrowed brows with a dashing smile, letting his head rest easy in Simon’s lap.
“Are you gonna be grumpy forever?” He inquired, “Because I’ll take that as a challenge.”
Simon was still looking away, biting his lip in a way which made Nathan suspect he was holding back a smile.
“And you know I don’t have any limitations of what I might do.” He continued, and when Simon finally looked his way he winked shamelessly at him.
“I just… ” the shorter boy mumbled, avoiding Nathan’s eyes but not looking at the screen either, “I don't like it when you get hurt.”
Nathan opened his mouth, then promptly closed it again, the jokes seemingly getting stuck in his throat. For once he was silent as if Simons words had punched all the air out of him, leaving him dumbstruck.
After a while the boys got back to watching the movie, or at least pretending to. Simon did not comment on the fact that Nathan’s head was still resting in his lap and Nathan remained quiet as Simon’s fingers found their way to his hair, absentmindedly playing with his brown locks of hair. They sat like that for what felt like hours and as the after-credits started rolling on the screen Simon slowly looked down at the other boy, realizing that he was in deep slumber. Knowing Nathan wasn't there to see it, he let his face break out into a big, stupid grin. The way it made him feel, the other boy’s head resting against his body, was dangerous, he knew that. The way it made his heart flutter and his skin warm was a vulnerability ready to be exploited. Another way for his heart to get broken. And yet he couldn't bring himself to look away, completely mesmerized by other boy’s features as he was peacefully sleeping. His fair, soft skin, his bony chest breathing deeply, and his parted lips occasionally making snoring sounds.
Simon was far gone and he knew it.
~~~
After that day the same thing would happen every time they watched a movie together. Nathan’s body would somehow end up attached to Simon’s before he inevitably dozed off only to wake up like none of it had even happened. It was like a nonverbal contract between the two; movies meant snuggling and snuggling meant Nathan got to sleep while Simon stroked his hair. A pretty flawless agreement, Nathan concluded, well, except for one minorly annoying detail. It seemed as if his body had grown used to Simon’s presence in a way he hadn't taken into account. Suddenly Nathan would have an increasingly hard time falling asleep on his own. He found himself looking up at the ceiling of the Community Center, sometimes a cig between his lips, thinking of Simon. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel the presence of the other man there, his arms wrapped around him and his fingers reassuringly stroking his skin.
Sometimes his mental image of Simon would even go a bit further. In his mind, Simon got more daring, more wild, than he’d ever seen him in real life. Nathan pictured his hands resting on his hip bones and slowly traveling down to the waistband of his boxers. He would have a mischievous grin on his face and the outline of his length would be visible in his tight boxers. The rest of the fantasy got a bit muddled on the account that Nathan got preoccupied with his own throbbing cock in his hand, failing to push away the fantasy of Simon leaning over him, letting his mouth press warm kisses all over his skin.
Another wank-sock was thrown into the corner and Nathan did his best trying not to let shame and guilt overcome him.
Completely accidental and unintentional masturbating aside, Nathan still had a major problem. He couldn't fall asleep for the life of him. Community Service had ended what felt like a lifetime ago and despite emptying the last beers in the hidden cabinet, Nathan still felt restless. He would try to think of nothing, just empty white space, his mind a blank canvas. But in the absence of his own rapid thoughts, his stupid fantasies would re-enter his consciousness, haunting him like stubborn ghosts.
Nathan turned around, groaning loudly at the ridiculous codependency his body had developed with Simon of all people. Simon, the weird melonfucker. Simon, the guy who probably jerked off to the thought of lighting babies on fire. Simon with the strong jawline that would twitch in irritation as Nathan threw him another one of his biting insults. Simon who’s smile would send a swarm of bugs through his entire digestive system. Simon with the strong arms, yet gentle touch. Simon, the only person who would hold him like he was the most important thing in the world. Hold him like Nathan might break without his touch.
“For fuck sake,” Nathan mumbled out loud into the loneliness, sitting up on the mattress.
He reached out for the washed out jeans he’d jumped out of mere hours earlier and pulled them over his lanky legs. As he walked out into the cold air outside the Community Center he lit his last cigarette, hoping it would give him some symbolic strength for what he was about to do next.
~~~
Simon reluctantly opened his eyes, staring into the heavy darkness around him. He didn't have to wonder for long what woke him up as a harsh sound erupted in the room, making him flinch. Something had hit the window but Simon remained still in his bed, too frightened to move.
“Wake up you twat!” Came a voice from outside and Simon sighed in relief as he recognized Nathan's Irish accent.
He stepped out of the bed and shivered at the cold wind stroking his skin when he opened the window. Indeed it was Nathan standing down below, his arm stretched out and in the process to throw up another rock.
Simon shook his head like a disapproving parent, “What are you doing here Nathan?”
His brain was still half asleep and he didn't have the energy to fulfill whatever weird request the other boy was about to give him. Money for condoms and booze would have been his first guess. Some leftovers from the fridge would have been his second.
Nathan gave him a pleading look, “Just let me in before I freeze my nips off.”
Simon sighed again but hurried down the stairs, wondering how exactly the friendship between himself and the young immortal had come about. Simon was supposed to be the sensible one in the group and yet here he was, rushing to the front door at 4 o'clock for no other reason than to help Nathan Young keep his nipples intact.
When Simon opened the door the other man practically ran in, hissing a string of curse words under his breath.
“No reasonable person should live in England,” he muttered, “It's just sadistic at this point.”
Simon rolled his eyes, motioning for Nathan to take off his shoes and follow him up to his bedroom. For once Nathan compiled without making a fuss, and as soon as Simon closed the door behind them he said, “Alright, let me explain.”
Simon crossed his arms, giving him a doubting look.
“I was sleeping, well not really, but I was trying to sleep, right?” Nathan rambled looking uncharacteristically nervous in a way which Simon’s muddled brain thought was as cute as it was annoying.
“But I couldn't,” Nathan let his hand run through his hair, looking away from the other boy, “And I thought, you know Simon always make me fall asleep, not in a bad way just… you know. And I thought… alright, let's give it a shot.”
Simon stared at him, his mind slowly unraveling the other boy’s words. His eyes had started to adjust to the dim light in the room and he took a note of Nathan’s messy hair and the faint, dark circles under his eyes.
“You show up at 4 a.m. to cuddle ?” Simon was utterly stunned and Nathan shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.
“I guess you could put it like that,” he said reluctantly, then, finally looking at Simon, “Don't be weird about this Barry, it's not like I wanna shag you or anything, I just need to sleep.”
Simon felt the corners of his lips twitching, “You're saying that you can't sleep without me.” He clarified.
“Come on, man,” Nathan groaned, burying his face in his palms, “Why do you gotta be all gay about it?”
Simon was fully smiling now, finding Nathan's little breakdown amusing in its own absurdity.
“Can’t two straight guys cuddle it up once in a while without it being a whole thing,” Nathan continued.
Simon hummed something back about “I never said I was straight, but alright,” before walking up to the bed. He was only wearing boxers and was starting to feel cold without the warm covers surrounding him.
“What was that?” Nathan asked, his voice weirdly high-pitch but Simon ignored him, falling into the bed and letting his head sink into the pillow.
“Come on then,” he mumbled instead, too tired to formulate himself properly.
He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Nathan pulling off his jeans and t-shirt, throwing them on the floor. His face heated at the knowledge that the other boy was wearing just as little clothing as himself, his pale skin exposed to the darkness, exposed to him. He felt a body pressing up against his own, tugging at the covers and leaving his thigh vulnerable to the cold air in the room. He moved back to regain some of the warmth and felt Nathans breath on his neck.
“Stop moving,” Nathan huffed and Simon smiled lazily, turning around to face the other boy.
Nathan’s eyes were closed but Simon knew he wasn't sleeping yet. His breathing was too rapid and he wasn't doing obnoxious, yet somehow adorable, smacking sounds with his mouth.
“Can you…” The curly haired boy whispered and Simon flinched, feeling as if he'd just been caught staring.
“Can you do that thing you always do?”
Simon didn't understand what he meant at first but when he did, he nodded, feeling his ears going slightly warm. He brought up one of his hands to Nathans curly hair and the other boy let out a shaky breath as he felt gentle fingers against his scalp. Simon let his hand slowly brush through the other boy’s hair until he heard light snoring, the reassurance that Nathan finally had fallen into the slumber he so desperately had craved for.
~~~
When he woke up, Nathan had never felt more well-rested. It was as if he’d spent the weekend in some luxury spa, getting every limb slowly stretched out and twisted. He supposed this was what naturally happened when you didn't sleep on a paper thin mattress in the middle of the concrete floor. Simons bed was practically made of clouds and unicorn-fluff compared to his own and God , he could get used to this. He glanced over at the other man sleeping beside him. Simon’s hair was still pulled down, covering a larger part of his forehead, but it wasn't neatly combed like it usually was. It was tousled, and messy, and Nathan found himself rather enjoying the sight of it. It was a strong contrast to the more uptight and stiff figure he’d gotten used to. Sure, Simon had, thanks to Nathan of course, loosened up a bit, even telling the occasional joke, but he was still a control-freak at heart.
Nathan wondered what he was dreaming about, if he was dreaming at all. Perhaps, in his mind, Simon was far away. Maybe in an alien strip club somewhere, getting pissed on by a green colored, three-boobed E.T. Or maybe he was overseas, in the middle of delivering a heartfelt Oscars acceptance speech for one of his creepy little short films.
Maybe he’s dreaming of me .
The thought made his heart flutter and he took the pillow, Simon’s pillow , and pressed it hard against his own face. He wanted to escape from the shame accompanied by the horrid realization that had just hit him. When he further realized that the pillow smelled of Simon, Nathan couldn't take it any longer. He threw it away, the muffled sound as it hit the floor making Simon turn, placing an arm around Nathan’s chest as he did so. The loud drumming of his heart was now impossible to ignore and he cursed his own pathetic helplessness.
Nathan was far gone and he knew it.