Gay Panic - Heartstopper AU

11. Cold

"Charlie, we need to talk about something."

Nick appeared in his bedroom doorway with two steaming cups of tea in hand. He kicked back the door with his heel, set the mugs on his nightstand, and sat on the foot of the bed next to Charlie.

Taken aback, Charlie paused his solo game of Mario Kart and set down the Switch controller on the duvet. "What?"

"You still need to explain why you were acting so cheeky in form."

Charlie exhaled sharply, and genuine relief crossed his face. "God, Nicholas, don't ever lead with 'we need to talk'. You really scared me."

"Oh, didn't even think about that. My bad."

"How was I acting cheeky?"

Nick's cheeks reddened at the thought of how Charlie touched him that morning under the table during form. He couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the school day.

"Well, you... your hand was..."

"Like this?"

Now it was Nick taken aback as Charlie's fingertips made contact with his thigh right above the knee. The squeeze that accompanied it sent a tingly pulse of electricity through his leg and up his spine. He hadn't realized how tense his muscles were until Charlie softened them with one touch.

Nick gave a breathy 'yeah'.

Charlie's eyebrows lifted in a sort of amused way, and his gaze mellowed. Nick was certain that the sun would be less agonizing to stare at directly than those lustrous blue eyes of Charlie's.

"Maybe I just wanted to."

"In form, of all places?" Nick paused. "Not that I didn't like it or anything, it just caught me off guard because it didn't seem like something you'd do."

Charlie pondered for a moment, then asked, "When was the last time you washed your jersey?"

"Huh?"

"Come on, tell me."

"Uh... a week, maybe two. I always forget to take it out of my gym bag."

"That's it, then."

"What's my jersey got to do with anything?"

"Pheromones."

There went Charlie and his big, scientific words again. First, it was tree names, now this. "And those are...?"

"Chemicals in your sweat or saliva. They can make someone really attracted to you."

"Sounds science-fictiony."

"It's just biology."

Charlie slid his hand further up Nick's leg, like this morning in form. This time, there wasn't any homework that could help Nick ignore the imprint taking shape against the fabric of his shorts.

"Oh," Nick muttered, exhaling a shaky breath.

"So, yeah, your jersey could've had something to do with it."

"Didn't know my sweat had such power over you. What's so special about my farro-moans, anyway?"

"That's the wicked part," Charlie began. He ran his index finger along the hem of Nick's boxer briefs, daring to go further. "If two people are attracted to each other's pheromones, it means they're a good genetic match."

That is wicked. For all Nick knew, Charlie could be making all this up to justify teasing him for fun. Yet he sounded like he knew what he was talking about, and there was no real reason to doubt him. Nick actually found the idea kind of charming—that on some primal level, their scents made them mad for each other.