Work Text:
It's light outside. Again.
After his elimination, Nick does exactly two things: he goes to Tanner's room to check whether his friend's sleeping soundly, which he is; and then he quietly sneaks into Isaac's room, closing the door behind him while making his absolute most not to be heard by Grunk. Admittedly, it's not as hard to do amidst the boy's screaming and continuous audial stimming.
Nick loves to be in Isaac's room when he's not busy and Isaac's working. Especially with recordings, it becomes a little fun game of not getting caught by their friends in the house and online while continuously teasing Isaac. Taking off his hairtie and massaging his head, tangling fingers in the tight waves of the boy's hair. Giving him long tight back hugs with his chin hooked over a broad shoulder to rest in the tiny indentation between his trapezoid and clavicle. Lying on Isaac's bed, kicking his feet up and showing the boy stupidest memes he can find. Isaac would mute, roll his eyes, and a smile would tug the corners of his lips apart, soft glistening in his eyes giving him away.
This time he flops disappointedly on his stomach onto the bed, faceplanting into the soft linens. He waits until the others are speaking among each other and Isaac is definitely muted, and then he whines like a child, just to hear his friend turn around in his chair and get up, and then to feel a big warm hand on his head.
"Tired, baby?" Isaac's voice if soft, and when Nick turns his head to look at his face, it's softer.
"Yea," he whimpers, moving towards the hand that starts petting his temple.
"You did incredible, you know?"
"Nah, I'd fucked up, man, I—"
There's a commotion in the call, and Isaac swiftly moves back to his computer, jumping into the conversation with such energy and drive as if he wasn't just calmly and comfortingly half-whispering to Nick's sorry ass. Nick watches him interact with the others for another ten minutes or so, planning to finish his story, but then the conversation doesn't stop while his eyes shut closed involuntarily. The lack of sleep catches up to him and pulls him under, the blanket hoodie serving as the best duvet and pillow and Isaac's talking—the perfect background noise that lulls him into a restless sleep.
He wakes to strong familiar hands laying him down on the bed. He opens one eye: it's dark, and the linens don't look like his own. Isaac's bodywash, vetiver and spices, is all up in his nostrils. He grunts a bit, suddenly overwhelmed. A hand covers the crown of his head, fingers gently rubbing in circles and making him want to curl up in a ball.
"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Isaac inquires.
"Uh-huh," he struggles out.
"I was gonna just lay you down properly here exactly not to do that but also so that you don't feel ruined when you wake up. Sleep, it's all right, goodnight, Nick," Isaac mumbles, covering Nick's body with a blanket and starting to move away. In his half-asleep state, Nick manages to let out a couple of whiny whimpers, sobbing disappointedly. He doesn't want to sleep in Isaac's room alone. He wants to tell him how he felt staying up for thirty hours for the first time in his life, and how it felt so awful to mess everything up. His mind is fast and bright, but his body's out of energy, so he can only cry and squirm in the dim light of Isaac's bedside lamp. "What's wrong, baby?" Isaac's voice calls out from somewhere near his closet.
"D'n leave," Nick forces out, too out of it to pronounce anything but the letter "e" properly.
"I need to sleep too, Nick," Isaac notes. "I was gonna stay in your room and then we could talk about everything when we're feeling better."
"Sleep her—" the last sound drowns in the pillowcase. It smells of Isaac's shampoo: leather and tobacco, sandalwood, oak. Brown, warm, chocolatey, like an old-fashioned poker club or a redwood-panelled hallway.
"You sure?"
"Mhm," Nick's entire face is in that pillow. He imagines being smothered in molasses.
"Grunk and Bear'll have questions," Isaac's voice is concerned but closer to the bed than it was before. As if Larry and Tanner won't. He doesn't—
"D'n care. C'mere."
There is a movement, vetiver and spices around him again, mattress being squished under the weight of Isaacs body, and Nick raises an arm invitingly, the boy slotting into a perfect side-cuddle almost instantly.
"Thanks."
There is a moment of silence. Isaac's bodywash smells green and his pillowcase— dark brown, Nick cannot help imagining being in a clearing in the spring forest.
"You did really well, baby."
"I m'ssed up," Nick turns his head to watch as Isaac's face grimaces at those words. The boy's eyes are closed but the eyelids are restless, like it always happens with being overstimulated. "Should've dissociated 'n won that one by like a mile."
"You do sometimes forget to blink, don't you."
"Who won?"
"They'll tell you when we all get up."
"How're you feelin'?"
"Drained."
"You did the best of us all."
"Too bad I didn't win then," Isaac opens one eye and glances at Nick, their eyes meeting. There is a long silence as they just look at each other. Nick studies every pore on Isaac's face. It's pretty in this shadowy light. He probably should turn it off, but first he asks, not even thinking about what he's asking about and the gravity of the question:
"Can I kiss you?"
Isaac looks his face over, taking the entirety of three seconds to even process the words. His brows furrow, but then his face softens.
"Just this one time," it reads: don't mess this up at least. Nick tries not to. He leans over and simply presses his lips and his entire face into Isaac's, taking his sweet time. His arm glides up the boy's arm, lands on his peck, then up—across his neck and up to his cheek that's turned towards the ceiling now as Isaac turns his head to make the kiss easier. A hand lands on the back of his waist, petting him softly. Nick imagines he's in one of those Christmas movies that smell of hot cocoa and pine needles, with candy canes all over and a welcoming glow of Christmas tree filling the entire space of the house. That's what it feels like. Isaac's lips are shaped like a twenty-seven-point star—bright, crackling, like fireworks on the New Years Day.
They stay like this for a long while, and then some. Nick pulls away when Isaac's breathing evens out, his hand stops mid-motion and he stops returning the kiss.
He turns over, switching off the bedside lamp, returns to his original position, and then traces the shape of Isaac's face with his fingertips, and says: "G'night, Isaac."
He drifts to sleep for ten more hours. When they wake up, it will be bright and loud, their friends being unsupervised children in the kitchen, and Bento will be glad to finally have people playing with him, and neither Nick, nor Isaac will ever mention the fact that they both utterly enjoyed that way of falling asleep, to their friends. (Or each other, for that matter.)