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Nigel knew his job as a teacher was demanding. He knew being the only reasonable person at that school would lead to issues. Yet, every week felt like a ticking time bomb in his mind. He had already been home for hours, yet the events from school still hadn't left his mind. He wasn’t one to insult his fellow coworkers, but he remained to question how everything ran as smoothly as they did.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to keep brooding in your study?”
Patrick was leaning on the doorframe with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Nigel hadn’t noticed he was there. With how Patrick was, who knows how long he had been standing there in the first place.
Nigel sighed, putting his graded papers together. “It’s the people, Patrick. You’ve heard it a million times before. I doubt you would want to hear it again.” The papers shuffled back into his suitcase, the lock loud in the silence room.
Patrick walked over to his desk, setting the mug down in front of Nigel. “Nonsense. I love hearing you ramble on about how much you hate them.”
“Hate is a strong word. I do not hate my coworkers. I am mildly irritated by them.” Nigel picked up the mug and took a small sip. Hot, but warm enough to not burn his tongue. Patrick must’ve let it cool down before giving it to him.
Nigel began to slow his breathing as he took in the scent of the cocoa. Nice, sweet, delicious. Nobody could do it like Patrick. Maybe it was the love making him blind, but even his presence seemed to calm him down. He continued to take small sips from the mug til it was half-empty.
“You gonna tell me what’s annoying you now?” Patrick wrapped his arms around Nigel’s shoulders, his head on top of his.
It was silly, mostly. Nigel seemed to notice that even the littlest things set him on edge (No wonder Patrick calling it “hating”) even from the people he liked. There, he made his confessions; Cecilia was demanding grading that wouldn’t be done until next week despite the fact he had told her that multiple times. She never treated the other third grade teacher that way. If they wanted an extension, she would just give it to them. He knew she thought they were hopeless, but is that really meant to be at his burden?
Francis was being his typical self. Nigel wouldn’t have minded it all that much if it wasn’t the cause of why Cecilla upped up her efforts on him.
“Everybody else is helpless, Nigel.” She would tell him. “You truly are this school’s only hope. At least your kids are smart.”
From the praise that he is given, he feels like none of them is fully appreciated due to how they treat him. Maybe he should be the one running the school instead.
We’re all adults here, Nigel reminds himself. We are all adults, so why does it appear like we are in the same line of drama as children?
His head hung low from the effort of his complaints. At the same time, his shoulders had finally relaxed. It didn’t help the aching of his head though.
“I wouldn’t trust you to be the principal. It would be like Glenbrook all over again. Except, without the whole ‘kids aren’t allowed to have fun’ thing.” Patrick cracked a smile, hopefully reliving Nigel with the joke.
A small chuckle escaped Nigel’s mouth, “Yeah, you’re right. It would be.”
The mug of hot chocolate had disappeared by then, only leaving what was. Patrick grabbed it and put it into the sink. Therefore whoever decides to wash the dishes later. As he walked back into the study, he saw Nigel in the living room with his eyes closed in thought.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“About how I want to spend the rest of this evening.”
A big smile began to grow on Patrick’s face. He knew exactly what to—
“I am not watching The Learning Channel with you again. That channel name is very misleading. I learned nothing.” Nigel crossed his arms.
Patrick chuckled as he sat on the couch and moved closer to Nigel. His weight was pushed up against his side, his head on his shoulder. “You were enjoying yourself. I saw it in the amount of drinks you were pouring yourself.”
“I needed it to see how many would make it actually enjoyable.” Nigel rubbed his temples, his head hanging low. “How irresponsible of me. Me, Nigel Ratburn, having a… what do you call it?”
“Hangover, Nige.” Patrick smirked, trying to suppress his laugh, “It was a really bad one. You drank like a college kid. Hell, it was almost on my level of young age drinking.”
Nigel groaned. His hands rubbed up and down his face as the memory resurfaced in his mind. The migraine, the vomiting, the absolute feeling of dread. He is a man in his thirties. He knew better than to drink like an alcoholic. He shut his eyes, praying for the visuals to go away.
Patrick patted Nigel on the back in an attempt to soothe him. “Tell you what?” Nigel’s eyes peaked out from his hands. “This time, I’ll let you pick what we’ll watch to turn off our brains. We can drink if you want to. If you do, I’ll count your drinks this time. At least I know where you start to become tipsy.”
A shy smile peaked out from Nigel’s mouth, “I believe you already know what I want to watch.”
With a nod, Patrick got up from the couch and moved over to the bookshelf where Nigel kept his VHS tapes. His hand hovered over the collection of tapes before turning back to him, “Should we continue where we left off?”
Nigel thought about it for a moment, his brain already deteriorating from the simple idea of choice. “Where we left off, please.”
He reached for the ninth one in their collection and removed the tape from its sleeve. Turning on the TV, he pushed the VHS into the player. He grabbed the remote and walked back to the couch and handed it to Nigel.
“I’ll leave it to you. I’ll get us snacks and some ibuprofen.” Patrick moved over to the kitchen. The sounds of cabinets opening and shutting filled as background noise while Nigel looked over the selection screen. “Do you still wanna drink?” Patrick called out.
“No thank you.” He clicked through the menu before settling on a certain episode. As he listened to the theme song play, he let out a deep breath.
Patrick returned to the living room with, as he promised, with chocolate-covered strawberries, sweet and salty popcorn, a pitcher of cold water with cups, and Nigel’s ibuprofen. He pulled the popcorn close as he left the rest of the table. Nigel reached over to the pitcher and poured himself a cup. He put two pills into his palm and swallowed them with the water.
The episode continued to play as Nigel’s headache began to retreat. As he watched the characters on screen, his thoughts began to slowly go away. He remembered how he would wait by the TV as a child waiting for his favorite show to come on. A simpler time, he supposed. Though, the question lingered in his mind if he missed it.
Less of missing, more of wishing he had more of these moments for himself. He had such a busy life; some say it’s a miracle he even has a husband. Those comments he takes offense to. Just because he is busy does not mean he is loveless. Patrick is the light of his life.
Popcorn wasn’t typically his number one choice of snack, but it is Patrick’s favorite beside the strawberries. By the time he reached out to grab some, half of it was already gone from Patrick munching on it.
Sweet and salty. Reminds him of somebody. Or two somebodies.
The chocolate had melted nicely for the strawberries. Patrick grabbed the fruit fork and held the strawberry up to Nigel’s mouth.
“I have to get reviews from my best tastetester.” He claimed. Nigel already knew the romantic implications behind it.
He leaned in closer, carefully biting the strawberry until he reached the leaf. He chewed slowly, letting the flavors absorb on his tongue. Patrick would typically pick the sweetest of strawberries for his creations, but Nigel was not one to favor the overly sweet. Instead, it was slightly sour. Yet, the chocolate helped pair together its sweetness, holding out on the tiny bits of sweetness left in the strawberry.
A pleased expression was left on Nigel’s face as he swallowed the strawberry, leading to positive affirmation from Patrick. Always cocky about his own creations.
As the first episode ended, Nigel left the remote to queue for the next episode. The only thing between them now was the sound of the TV and the crunching of food.
Nigel glanced over at Patrick. Despite what people saw in Nigel, he would argue that Patrick was more busy than he was. He would spend his early mornings making sure everything for his shop was in order and spend the rest of the day at his shop. He was a one-man-show. Even after Nigel came into his life, Patrick would prefer to handle everything in his shop himself. It was deeply admirable to how he cared for his craft.
Patrick’s hand trailed up and down Nigel’s arm. He settled beside Nigel as he munched on the popcorn, leaving no empty space to his side. “You know, I’m experienced in a different kind of stress relief.”
Nigel huffed, the air escaping from his nose. “Don’t be crude.” He blinked. “At least let us finish this third episode.”
“We’ve got like, what, seven minutes left in this one? Gives me enough time to get you ready.” Patrick wrapped his arm around Nigel’s waist as his lips pressed against his neck.
Nigel took a shuddering breath, his heart beat loud in his ears. Patrick felt each thud in the veins of his neck as he sucked on the skin. Nigel’s hand moved up to cradle the back of Patrick’s head, keeping him in place. He carded his fingers through his hair, feeling its softness through his fingertips.
There was always something about Patrick’s hair that Nigel seemed to admire. His hair smelled like coconut with a hint of chocolate that always stuck to Patrick’s skin. He could get his fingers lost in his hair and wouldn’t want to let go. His nails reached the scalp of his head, carefully scarping the skin. A low moan left Patrick’s mouth as Nigel continued to move his fingers. The vibration of the moan against his skin made him shudder, making his fingers tighten.
Patrick let go from his neck and pulled Nigel to face him. He reached up and put his face into his hands, his thumbs feeling the soft fur. He closed his eyes as he inched close to his lips, softly kissing him. Nigel’s hands turned to Patrick’s waist, his hands resting on his hips.
Patrick uses his weight to push Nigel onto his back. As he towered over him, he began to tease the hem of Nigel’s shirt. His hand slid under the shirt, feeling the heated skin of his abdomen. The muscle shuddered underneath his touch, causing Nigel to breathe heavily against him.
Meanwhile on the TV, the gang catches up to the monster as they run around the haunted house. When Nigel’s listening moves back to the show, his reality comes back to him for a moment.
Right. Because this was an appropriate thing to have in the background for foreplay.
The absurdity of it made Nigel crack a smile. Then, he quickly pulled away to break into laughter, something that even surprised Patrick. Nigel never laughed like this at his jokes!
“What— What’s wrong, Nige?” Patrick had already drowned out the sound of the cartoon, focusing all of his attention onto him. As he turned back to the TV, watching the characters run across the screen yelling to catch the monster made Patrick begin to laugh alongside him. “Man, why do I—Why did I think it was a good idea now?”
Nigel held his stomach as he continued to laugh, “In your defense, it—haha—was my idea to keep the show on.”
Patrick collapsed to the other end of the couch, his shoulders shaking with laughter. The two remained like that until the credits began to roll. By that time, Patrick was wiping the tears out of his eyes as Nigel regained his breath.
“Oh, Pat. You are the only person who is able to make me laugh like that.”
Patrick looked back up, seeing Nigel with his hand on his chest. “Aww, how sweet. Might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week.”
Nigel snapped up in surprise. “I said ‘I love you’ multiple times this week, for your information.”
Patrick scooted back to Nigel, holding his hand out. “I kid, I kid.” As Nigel took his hand, he pulled them back up. “Now, let’s continue what we were doing.”
“As long as we properly turn off the TV and the light,” Nigel reached for the remote and watched the light turn from green to red. He then flicked off the lightswitch. “Okay, we can continue now.”
Patrick smiled as he pulled Nigel to their bedroom. Despite the fact that their sheets were nicely put together, Patrick already knew that they would be ruined in record time. Nigel stayed on top of Patrick as he was pulled down into a kiss. He closed his eyes as he leaned in, letting Patrick take the lead.
His lips felt so soft against his, so warm, so full of life. Nigel could feel him waiting for more, his teeth colliding with his lips. Finally, he opened his mouth, letting Patrick’s tongue inside. Patrick’s mouth was warm and inviting. He was always convinced that he was never well with things like these. Things like kissing so foreign before he met Patrick. Yet, with him, it was like every movement he did was right.
Patrick wrapped his arms around Nigel, pulling away to give himself a moment to breathe. The only air between them was each other, their breathing the only sound they could hear. Looking into Nigel’s eyes, Patrick could only see want. But he knew beneath that want, there was the complication of words. Never knowing what exactly to say.
Patrick gently held Nigel’s chin, making him look at him, “Hey, hey. I’m still here. Tell me what you want me to do.”
Nigel’s adams apple bobbed as he thought about what to do. Stress relief. That’s what he was here for. All he wants is to let go from reality once more. It shouldn’t be so hard for him to say those words. He took Patrick’s away from his chin and began to glide it down his chest, all the way to his pants.
Then, Patrick understood what he wanted. He carefully reached out to undo Nigel’s belt, the click of the metal loud in the room. He slowly pulled it out from the belt loops and threw it aside onto the floor. Nigel finally stood up, his crotch aligned with Patrick’s face as he sat on the bed.
He tugged on his jeans, letting them fall to his ankles. Patrick wrapped his arms around his hips, pulling Nigel closer as his face flushed against his boxers. The tent felt heavy against his cheek as he began to tease its hem, keeping it between his teeth. Nigel stood on the edge whether Patrick would pull them down or not. He reached down to Patrick’s hair again, letting his fingers tangle in its knots.
Patrick’s hands began to glide up higher and pressed against the firmness of Nigel’s ass. It earned a surprised sound from Nigel, causing Patrick to smirk. He continued to gently need the skin as he licked up the trail leading to his boxers.
“My, Patrick…” Nigel breathed out, “You are such a tease.”
Patrick’s teeth roughly tugged down on his boxers in response before letting go. “You probably already forgot what you were mad about anyways.”
Before Nigel could respond, Patrick’s hands went down to fully tug down the boxers, pairing with the fallen jeans. The coldness of the air hit his cock, causing him to moan in relief. God, he wanted Patrick to do something. Anything. Instead, he was looking up at him with those stupid eyes. He just loved to see him helpless.
“Is that just your way of speaking or are you calling me yours?” Patrick batted his eyelashes.
“Don’t get too cocky. It was my way of speaking.” Yet, even Nigel's voice sounded hesitant.
Patrick shrugged, “I’ll leave it up to interpretation then.” He gently grabbed the base of Nigel’s cock as he sucked on the tip. Just the action alone caused Nigel’s fingers to tighten in his hair. So sensitive. So easy to please.
Nigel’s breath began to stutter as Patrick continued the motion. He would beg for more, but even the thought of it would overstimulate him. Gentle. That’s what he loved the most about Patrick. Despite the way he would act, he was always gentle with him.
Patrick’s tongue swirled around the tip and the slit, causing Nigel’s hips to jerk as he pushed himself deeper into his mouth. His moans began to grow louder, a sound Patrick always enjoyed. In response, he hummed against him, leading to the sensation going up Nigel’s spine.
Each affirmation of Nigel’s body caused Patrick to add more. His hand began to jerk as he continued to suck, slowly going down on him deeper and deeper. As one hand stayed tangled in his curls, the other settled on the back of Patrick’s throat, pulling him deeper and deeper. With every suck, the only sound Patrick could hear was Nigel’s moans filling the room. For him, calling out for him, more and more.
“Oh, my– Patrick..” His eyes squeezed together as he felt the familiar heat coiling in his stomach. “Please, Patrick.”
At his demands, he stopped using his hands and began to take as much as he could. He went down, feeling the head hit the back of his throat. His lips swollen from the effort of making sure Nigel was getting the best treatment he could possibly give. His nose hit the familiar curls at the end of his cock, taking in the scent of Nigel’s skin. He smelled similar to a library with hits of chalk layered underneath.
Patrick was right, Nigel would agree later. He couldn’t even seem to remember what he was mad about in the first place. Damn whoever did it anyways. Or bless them. His mind was no longer on numbers or his students or even his coworkers. All he could think about was Patrick. What Patrick was doing, how good Patrick was treating him, just how wonderful his life was to have somebody like Patrick to come home to everyday.
His hips continued to collide with Patrick’s mouth as the heat in his stomach grew stronger. “Patrick, I’m afraid I’m—yes—I’m—”
Patrick’s hands settled on his thighs, telling what Nigel already knew. Just let it happen. I’ll clean up the mess later.
Without a second thought, Patrick felt the warm liquid hit his tongue as he kept his mouth on him. Nigel’s fingers twitched against him as Patrick sucked him through the aftermath. He stayed on for a few moments, letting the rest settle until he finally popped off. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at Nigel with a smile. He wouldn’t be thinking about that for the rest of the weekend.
He got up from the bed and patted Nigel’s cheek, “Relax on the bed, I’ll handle the rest of the clean up.”
He did exactly as he was told. Nigel collapsed onto their bed, his head hitting the pillow as he tried to regain his breath. Meanwhile, Patrick was cleaning his hands and mouth. Nigel would complain about it later if he wasn’t careful. Plus, having it dried on your skin wasn’t much fun either.
He returned back to the room with the water pitcher and his cup, pouring Nigel one. “Drink some water before you faint from the sheer effort.” He joked.
Nigel sat up on the bed and slowly drank the water, leaving the cup on the dresser.
“Do you want me to put it back in the sink?” Patrick asked.
“No, it’s alright. We can deal with it in the morning.” Nigel began to remove his shirt, throwing it into the hamper along with his jeans. “Let’s get ready for bed. I have to be well awake to help you open tomorrow.”
Patrick smiled as Nigel began to look for his pajamas. He looked for his own, throwing his clothes along Nigel’s in the hamper. He began to question if Nigel would say anything about the left tape on the coffee table or the uncleaned snacks. But as he brushed his teeth, he realized it didn’t matter that much at all. If it truly bothered Nigel, he would say something.
As they settled into bed, Nigel wrapped his arms around Patrick’s body and pulled him close. The action surprised Patrick, but as he settled into position he could hear Nigel’s heart beat against his ear. A soft, mellow temple that seemed to slow down the world around him. His head found a place in the side of Nigel’s neck, each breath reminding him who was seated against him.
Both of their breathing began to slow as they drifted into a slumber. If Nigel was willing to complain about the mess, he might as well complain tomorrow. Patrick would clean it up regardless. They were minor trivial things that didn’t matter.
Right now, holding onto the present mattered the most.