Chapter 21 Nicholas #3
His mother needs a drink to handle everything, Nicholas thinks bitterly, the uncomfortable realization that his own tendency to drink his feelings away was the only thing his mother ever truly taught him.
If Andrew weren’t here, Nicholas would tell her to get her own fucking drink, but there are too many people around, any of whom could be reporters, knowing his parents and how they love the chance to control their media narrative.
He won’t bring that kind of attention to Andrew, knowing he would hate it.
“What kind?” Nicholas grits out.
“A French martini,” she answers, turning to a woman beside her who Nicholas doesn’t recognize. “Edith, dear, have you met my son, Nicholas? He’s a famous NHL star.”
How it is that his mother manages to both belittle his life choices and find a way to use him as a trophy piece is beyond Nicholas who wants no part in whatever proverbial dick measuring contest she’s trying to engage in.
He doesn’t bother excusing himself, ignoring his mother’s quacking about his bad manners as he stalks over to the bar, ordering himself a top shelf glass of cognac which he gulps down in a single go and a nice red wine for Andrew.
By the time he's making his way back across the room to find Andrew again, another cognac in hand and the first one buzzing nicely through his veins, he’s feeling almost calm enough to pretend he can survive the rest of this party without making a scene.
That is until he spots his father squeezing Andrew’s shoulder while he leans in to whisper something directly in his ear.
Nicholas is across the room and dislodging his father’s hand from Andrew’s shoulder before his father even notices him coming. No one touches his princess without permission.
“Nicholas, apologize,” his father reprimands like he’s a child, disgust dripping from his tone. “He never did learn manners despite our best attempts to raise him better.”
“Perhaps the nannies forgot to teach manners,” Andrew deadpans in a tone his father clearly isn’t sure how to read.
Nicholas can read it. It’s Andrew’s polite for society version of fuck you. His father doesn’t know him well enough to realize what he's getting himself into and opens his mouth again.
“Don’t believe everything Nicholas tells you. He was a spoiled, ungrateful child. Never happy despite all we gave him. He loves any opportunity to try and make me and his mother look bad.”
“But you do that so well on your own, sir.” Andrew smiles, sipping the wine Nicki passes him.
God, he fucking loves this man. The thought startles Nicholas with its certainty, but when he looks at Andrew, the masked smile he’s giving his father falls, something softer and more real put in place for Nicholas and Nicholas alone.
Yeah. He’s in love with this man.
“Outrageous,” he father mumbles, clearly unused to anyone standing up to him.
Without another word, he turns and walks away, leaving Andrew and Nicki alone. Andrew waits until he’s far enough out of earshot to whisper, “well, he’s a fucking dick and I hate him, sorry.”
Nicholas moves in front of Andrew, needing to be closer. Taking their drinks, he sets them on the empty table beside them before sliding his arms around Andrew to bring him closer.
“Hey there, handsome.”
Andrew smiles. “Are you okay?”
Unexpectedly, moisture pools at the corners of his eyes. No. No, he’s not okay. He hates his parents. Hates who he becomes around them and how they make him feel. He hates himself for bringing Andrew here. He just plain hates himself right now.
“Nicki.” Andrew’s tone is so gentle, those perfect fingers of his smoothing over the back of Nicki’s head.
Uncaring who might be watching, he tips his face down, hiding it in Andrew’s neck.
“I hate him,” Nicki chokes.
Andrew doesn’t lie, doesn’t tell him everything is okay when it’s not.
Neither does he demand explanations, even though he’s got to be confused.
Andrew merely hums softly, nails dragging over the back of Nicki’s skull as he kisses the side of his head.
It occurs to Nicki that this is the first time someone has ever held him like this, and he can’t stop himself from clinging to Andrew, terrified Andrew might wake up and realize he could do so much better than Nicholas.
His fingers dig into Andrew’s back, his breathing stilted.
“I’d like one last dance before we leave, Nicki.”
Nicki doesn’t question Andrew’s sudden declaration, that he wants to dance or that they’re leaving. He’s been ready to leave since before they got here. He also doesn’t question the request to dance. If he wants a dance, he gets a dance.
Pulling himself together, he stands, his breathing coming just that little bit easier when Andrew’s hand finds its way into his own.
Leading Andrew to the dance floor, he pulls him into his arms, the weight of all the ways he’s never been good enough falling to the floor in the face of the way Andrew is looking at him.
He wants to deny it, to tell Andrew he’s not the man he seems to think, but he’s just selfish enough to not bother.
He wants Andrew to keep looking at him with that soft adoration, he needs it. He needs Andrew.
“I love you,” Nicki confesses, swaying to the music and holding Andrew close.
No preamble, no warning, only the single most important truth he can offer right now.
If Andrew is surprised by the declaration, he doesn’t show it, his expression softening into one of complete relief, like he, too, feels it. Like maybe Andrew is right there with him in these big feelings.
“I love you, too,” Andrew whispers.
Though Nicholas felt it in the way Andrew touches him, talks to him, trusts him, hearing it verbalized is deeply affecting.
“I know this started off backwards, that the entire relationship was fake to begin with. A stupid fucking plan to try and get back at my dad, but I’m not sorry because it got me you.
I didn’t know what I needed or wanted, but I do now.
I want you. I need you. I love you. You’re it for me, princess.
You’re mine, and I don’t ever want to let you go. ”
“Possessive man,” Andrew scoffs, but the lightness in his voice is a fucking balm.
“I uh—me too. You’re it for me, too. I love you, Nicki.
It should terrify me. It’s unexpected and unplanned and impulsive, but you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m not going to question it.
I’m going to hold onto it, hold onto you.
Because you’re worth everything, Nicki. You make me so happy. ”
Nicholas isn’t sure he understands how fucking bad he needed to hear that.
There was a time in his life where a lavish party like this was all he knew.
Where he thought it was what he enjoyed.
A time where he would’ve finished this night by making a scene before finding someone to bring home and fuck, desperately trying to fill the emptiness.
There’s no rage left, no anger or despondency to try and drown out with sex or liquor.
“I’m ready to go, princess.”
Slipping his hand into Nicholas’s, Andrew nods. “Me too. I want a shower.”
“Can I wash you?” Nicholas asks, eager to worship this man. To touch him. To lavish him in attention and praise.
“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it. There’s so many offers.”
He’s clearly teasing but Nicholas’s possessive nature rears its ugly head all the same, the very idea of someone else touching what’s his unthinkable.
“No,” Nicki growls, “mine.”
Andrew laughs, lifting their joined hands and kissing the back of Nicholas’s. “Only yours, Nicki.”
Nicki nods, something settling in him as they leave the party, leaving his father and this old life behind.
He doesn’t turn to look one last time before they leave, doesn’t have the hollow feeling he’s always had after being in his parents’ presence.
In its place is something fiercely bright and beautiful, keeping that darkness at bay—his princess.