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It was midway through making pancakes that Nick realised he knew Charlie’s kitchen as well as he knew his own. Despite the fact his boyfriend was still upstairs in bed, Nick could find every utensil and piece of crockery he needed. And yeah, it was really Charlie’s parents’ kitchen and Charlie himself tended to avoid it as much as possible, but it still felt strangely domestic. Nick let himself imagine what it would be like to have their own kitchen one day, in their own house, and he found himself humming as he poured batter into the frying pan, a grin overtaking his lips.
He was plating up the last of the pancakes, carefully arranging some fruit on top, when he heard the subtle squeak of the kitchen door. Hoping to find Charlie, he turned with good morning, love on the tip of his tongue. The words fizzled away when, instead of his jumper-clad, sleepy-eyed boyfriend in the doorway, he instead found said boyfriend’s older sister. She was admittedly also wearing a jumper several sizes too big for her and wasn’t fully awake—Nick noted, not for the first time, that the elder Spring siblings were more alike than they seemed to realise—but his heart didn’t leap at the sight the way it would’ve done for Charlie.
Tori wasn’t meant to see him. When Charlie’s parents had gone away to a wedding for the weekend they’d left her in charge and given strict instructions for no sleepovers, which they all really knew just meant that Nick couldn’t sleep over. Rather than ask Tori to lie for him and risking her saying no, Charlie had instead decided that what no one knew couldn’t hurt them, and told Nick to come round in secret anyway.
“Hi,” Nick said, shifting awkwardly and not quite meeting her eyes.
He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Tori Spring. Charlie adored her, which was a good sign, but she was incredibly intimidating. Nick knew how much she cared about her little brothers and they both knew he had Charlie’s heart in the palm of his hand. He’d made it his life’s mission to protect it but he could also crush it in a moment and Tori never seemed to fully trust that he wouldn’t. She was always watching him, just in case, and it was a little unnerving. Usually Nick kept his distance to avoid the scrutiny.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Tori said bluntly, heading to the fridge to pull out a bottle of lemonade.
“No,” Nick agreed, wincing. It wasn’t like there was much use in trying to pretend he didn’t know that. “I’m not. Sorry. I thought you were still asleep.”
“I was. You were being very loud,” Tori said. Nick couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. “Charlie snuck you in?”
“Yeah.” Nick admitted, because it was either throw his boyfriend under the bus or pretend he’d broken in. While neither option was great, consensual sneaking in to cuddle with Charlie wasn’t an actual crime.
“Last night?” Tori pushed.
Nick felt his cheeks heat up. He really wanted to lie, because yes, I spent all night unsupervised with your little brother behind a closed door but I promise I didn’t ruin his innocence or anything, I just like holding him wasn’t something he ever wanted to admit to Tori. But he had a feeling she wasn’t going to believe he’d just popped round that morning – Charlie would’ve told her if that was the plan.
“Are you going to tell your parents?” Nick asked with a sigh, hanging his head a little. He wasn’t looking forward to being banned, even temporarily, from Charlie’s house for breaking the rules.
Rather than answer him, Tori took a long drink of her lemonade, just watching him. Once she seemed satisfied she’d unnerved him, she shifted her gaze to the plates on the kitchen counter. Two stacks of pancakes, both drizzled with syrup and heaped with berries. One was taller than the other but both were perfectly acceptable portion sizes to have for breakfast, which meant they were more than Charlie could usually be convinced to have.
“Is Charlie going to eat all of that?” Tori asked, doubtful.
“Probably not,” Nick admitted, “but hopefully most of it. He said he was having a good morning and he wanted to try pancakes so I figured breakfast in bed.” The words were innocent enough but the second he’d said them, Nick couldn’t help but leap to clarify. “Not that I slept in his bed.”
The knee-jerk reaction was a mistake. Tori fixed him with her usual unflinching gaze again, burning a blush into his cheeks and down his neck.
“Yes you did,” she said, and Nick really had no good reply to that.
In his defence, he’d at least considered starting on the floor, with the spare bedding Charlie’s mum pulled out whenever he came over. He usually began the evening by trying to follow the rules. But without fail Charlie would look down at him under dark lashes and say something inexplicably fond about missing him or wanting to be held, and Nick had no power against that. Last night they’d skipped over the middle step and Nick had just gotten into bed beside Charlie straight away. He wanted that for the rest of his life.
Tori didn’t seem to want to dwell on the idea of her brother’s boyfriend sharing his bed and she shifted the topic back to the plates on the side.
“Pancakes aren’t on his meal plan,’ she pointed out, gesturing to the folder that lived on the work surface because Charlie refused to hang the plan on the fridge.
Nick just shrugged. “He asked for them. He never asks for food.”
Charlie only ate because he needed food to live and he’d finally accepted so many people cared about him sticking around. Nick had recurring nightmares about Charlie wasting away to nothingness and seeing him push food around a plate rather than eat it still terrified him. A world without Charlie Spring was possibly the worst thing Nick could think of. So much light would just drain away.
So when Charlie had asked for pancakes, something specific he actually wanted to eat, Nick would’ve moved heaven and earth to make them for him. Luckily it only took half an hour and some ingredients the Springs already had in their cupboards and fridge. He didn’t care that it wasn’t on Charlie’s meal plan, he just wanted to make him some food and have him eat more than a few bites. He was hoping that the both of them being tucked up in Charlie’s bed, trading kisses sticky with maple syrup, would make the whole thing less stressful for Charlie.
Tori looked at Nick, then at the plates of food, then at the dishes already washed up on the drying rack.
“You’re good for him,” she said, abrupt and simple but still meaning the world to Nick. “I won’t tell Mum and Dad. Just keep out of Oliver’s way. He’s harder to keep quiet.”
“Thanks.” He grinned, relieved. Then, with only a couple of seconds of deliberation, he put one of the plates down in front of her and slid across some cutlery. “Here.”
“I thought these were Charlie’s,” Tori said, confusion creasing the skin between her eyebrows. Charlie’s confused expression was exactly the same and Nick usually kissed it away, but when it came to Tori he just shrugged.
“I can make him some more. He was barely awake when I left him so he’s probably gone back to sleep anyway,” he explained. Then he remembered the additional effort he’d put into Charlie’s strawberries and his blush returned just a little. “Ignore the hearts.”
Tori looked down at the plate and Nick could see her taking in the slices of strawberry he’d carefully cut into the shape of hearts just to make Charlie smile. He’d only given her Charlie’s portion instead of his own because it was going to mean another fifteen minutes in the kitchen and he didn’t want to take Charlie cold pancakes. Everyone knew they were better warm and he wanted to be able to present Charlie with the most appealing plate of food possible. Hot pancakes, freshly dusted icing sugar, and syrup that hadn’t soaked in too much and turned everything soggy would make it so much easier for him.
Once Tori was done smirking at quite how sappy Nick was, she looked up to see him setting the frying pan back on the stove and getting the leftover pancake mix out of the fridge. He pulled out the punnet of strawberries as well, fully prepared to spend another ten minutes carving them into hearts for his boyfriend.
“Yours will go cold,” Tori pointed out as she used her fork to cut off a mouthful of pancake, stabbing through a strawberry heart.
“They already have,” Nick said, waving her concerns away with a sheepish smile. “I spent a lot of time whittling strawberries.”
Tori shook her head, suppressing a smile. It was a look Nick saw often—from his mum, from Charlie’s dad, from teachers at school, from strangers who saw them out on dates—and he knew it was something akin to fond amusement. People thought they were sweet together, which was fine by Nick. He sort of thought so, too. But he also knew they were right together. This was far from some childhood infatuation that was going to burn out when he left for uni. He was going to be making breakfast in bed for Charlie Spring in five years, in ten, in fifty, and he was always going to take the extra time to cut his strawberries into hearts.