Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Charlie wiped the sweat away from his forehead as he grabbed the last box from the back of Tori and Michael's car. He didn't have particularly much stuff to move into his new place, but all of his books were heavy and the unseasonably warm weather meant he was quite damp. Of course, feeling gross and exhausted, the universe has decided this was the moment to have an absolute Adonis of a man cross his path.

“Excuse me,” said the large man, biceps flexing as he pushed a stray strand of strawberry blond hair off his forehead as he and his dog navigated around Charlie to go up the path of the adjoining house. A speechless Charlie watched as the most amazing arse he had ever seen in person walked away. He always was a sucker for muscular guys with a bit of softness around the tum, and powerful thighs? Sigh. Maybe this was going to be a good neighborhood after all.

“Charlie,” said Tori. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, Tori! What?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “This is the last box. We'd stay but you don't have seats yet.”

“IKEA couldn't deliver until tomorrow. I've got the air mattress for tonight. It's worth it to be away from…” Charlie couldn't bring himself to say his ex-boyfriend's name. He was free. He was out of that flat and never had to see that wanker again, and probably wouldn't, now that he'd moved two hours north.

Charlie was lucky that his job as a freelance editor was already done remotely. The hardest part had been deciding on a location. When his sister Tori and her person suggested moving closer to them in Manchester, well, he didn't have any better ideas. He found a fairly affordable place, changed his phone number, blocked his ex everywhere, and started over. It turned out that two of his old friends from secondary school, and one of his favorite literary agents also lived in the area. Frankly, it was a better support network than he ever had in Birmingham.

Charlie shook his head, trying to pull himself back to the current moment. Tori gave him a quick hug, and Michael gave him a much bigger bear hug, before they headed back to their own flat. With a sigh, he walked into his new living space, full of cardboard boxes. The only thing he could really unpack right away was his very sparse collection of kitchen items. Might as well start his new life now.

❤️💚❤️💚

Nick unclipped Daisy's lead and hung it up on the hook in the entry before taking off his shoes. He peeked out of his window, looking at the dark curly haired man hugging the other two before they got in the car and pulled away. The gorgeous man must be his new neighbour. There were certainly worse neighbours to have moved in for your birthday.

Checking his watch, Nick realised he was running late again. Imogen had made reservations for his favorite restaurant at 7, but he still had to shower and get dressed and get an Uber over to the little French bistro. It was probably too romantic of a venue for a pair of friends, but they had a savory gorgonzola cheesecake with fried mushrooms that was absolutely delicious. Unfortunately, he could only justify splurging out once a year on his teacher's pay, especially when he indulged in a glass (or bottle) of good wine.

Being able to afford to eat out more had been one of the perks of his, now defunct, marriage to Lillian. Admittedly, it was partly because they never had time to cook a meal together at home with her working 80-90 hours a week at her tech startup. She had always been more ambitious than Nick, chasing promotions and bigger salaries. He had followed along until one day, he realised he was all alone in a beige apartment in northern California, waiting on a workaholic wife who wasn't interested in children, and desperately homesick for rainy, grey England. Whatever spark they'd had, when they met on her semester abroad, had faded to nothing in the absence of fuel.

If he was honest with himself, he missed her family more than he missed Lillian. They'd always been there for birthdays and holidays with full vigor and enthusiasm. None of them had ever told Nick that he was too much, the way his brother and father had. But alas, you don't get to keep your in-laws in the divorce.

Nick sighed, realising he had lost track of time for the last several minutes and was now even further behind. Skipping the shower, he pulled on his dark green chinos and an ivory woolen jumper. He made sure Daisy was fed and settled before putting on his nice Chelsea boots, the ones that Imogen had made him buy before his last attempt at dating. His last incredibly unsuccessful attempt at dating. You'd think being bisexual would increase your dating pool, but it was counteracted by Nick's tendencies to be a total disaster. At least he had great friends, and maybe some new eye candy next door.

❤️💚❤️💚

After several days of methodically building Swedish, flat-pack furniture and unpacking box after box, Charlie's space was settled. The decorations were sparse; a few posters he'd kept for years, a few houseplants, and an old throw blanket he'd dragged around since uni. He wasn't particularly bothered by a need to customise his space. It was enough to know that it was his.

Charlie quickly established his new routine. In the mornings, he would go for a run, have a shower and breakfast, before taking his flask of coffee up to his office to work until lunch. He'd arranged the small room so that his desk was facing the large window at the front of the house, making the most of the limited natural light, especially in winter. Sometimes, he just needed to take a break from a particularly dry block of text and stare blankly into the middle distance. While freelance editing occasionally let him read pleasurable fiction manuscripts, Charlie's obsessive eye for detail made him particularly well suited to reviewing more technical documents and nonfiction. He enjoyed learning about niche areas of knowledge, but the unfortunate reality was that expertise and writing skills did not always go together.

As part of his regular afternoon staring out of the window, he had noticed that his gorgeous neighbor had routines of his own. Every morning, he took his golden retriever out on a walk before leaving again, clearly heading to work. In the afternoon, he returned and there was another walk. And once a week, the same woman came over. Although Charlie was gay, he knew she would be considered attractive. It was clear to him that the progress flag sticker in the entry window was an indicator of allyship, rather than his vain hope that Adonis (Charlie still didn't know his real name) might be gay. Between the dog, the wholesome looks and his penchant for giving away adorably decorated baked goods, it was like living next to a Blue Peter presenter.

The reason Charlie knew about these baked goods is that part of the routine also involved Adonis leaving a plate on Charlie's doorstep each morning after his girlfriend visited. He had yet to figure out why - their semi detached houses did share a wall, but there were never any particularly loud or obnoxious noises.

As the weeks slipped by and the leaves changed colours, Charlie noticed that things were surprisingly comfortable in his new life. And for many reasons, he didn't trust that feeling.

❤️💚❤️💚

When Nick had first moved back to the UK, he met Imogen as he was buying bowls and pans for his kitchen, and struck up a conversation about baking. They quickly realised that they would be coworkers, with Imogen teaching Year 2, and Nick teaching Year 3. They had hit it off immediately, and Nick volunteered to teach Imogen how to bake. So now, once a week, they got together and made goodies. Most of them went to Thursday morning staff meetings, trying to rescue the day preemptively from the curse of being Thursday. But since Curls had moved in, Nick had started delivering treats to his new neighbor.

He wished he could be brave enough to actually strike up a conversation. But Daisy's walks were always the wrong time to catch him on the way to or from a run, and Nick was too shy to just knock on the door. Six weeks was too late to just be welcoming him to the neighbourhood, and it would hardly be believable that he needed to borrow a cup of sugar.

Right on cue, Imogen knocked on the door for their weekly baking session.

“Nicholas!” She kissed his cheek as he opened the door. “I missed you!”

“You saw me three hours ago,” said Nick.

“Seeing you at school isn't the same,” said Imogen as she took off her coat and shoes. “I can't grill you about your crush on your neighbour at school.”

Nick groaned. “It's nothing. It's not like I've even talked to him. I'm just the weirdo leaving baked goods on his doorstep once a week and staring at him when he goes running every morning.”

“What are we baking today anyway?”

“I wanted to do palmiers, but butter wasn't on offer this week. I was thinking lemon drizzle cupcakes instead?”

“Why not just do a loaf?” asked Imogen, tilting her head.

Nick blushed, mumbling “because then I can’t leave some for Curls…”

“Curls? Is that what we're calling your cute neighbour crush? Do you still not know his name?”

“I haven't… haven't actually talked to him yet except to say hi.”

Nick sighed. And what a beautiful hi it had been, as their paths crossed one morning when Nick and Daisy managed to leave for their walk 10 minutes early and cross paths before he vanished into the house. Those soft curls framing his deep blue eyes, as deep as the sea, cheeks pink and flush from exterior, running tights showing off shapely legs…

“Earth to Nicholas,” said Imogen. “Were you thinking about pretty boys again?”

Nick nodded and blushed.

“Why don't you just leave him a note?”

“That says what? Hi, I'm bi and I've been creepily watching you and wondering if maybe you aren't straight? Yo, I'm your neighbour and I think you're the most gorgeous man I've ever seen?”

“That seems a bit much. Here, let's start baking and we can brainstorm.”

Imogen and Nick went back and forth as they mixed the batter, baked the individual cakes, and drizzled the lemon syrup and icing on top, but couldn't find a wording that didn't feel either creepy or insincere. Imogen pointed out that Nick was notoriously terrible at flirting and, as she was aroace, she had no practice either.

“I want to believe in romance,” said Imogen, “But it's a purely hypothetical thing to me. Have you tried just talking to him?”

“No,” said Nick. “That sounds harder than writing this note. I think I'm just cursed to pine from a distance. Besides, with my luck, he's straight.”

“Oh, Nicholas, you ridiculous pine tree. Is that why Christmas is your favorite holiday?”

“Well, at some point it was just easier to lean into the Saint Nick jokes. Do you want to come round next weekend to help with decorating?”

“Nick, I love you very much, but it’s the day after Halloween and I will be spending it hungover, probably still in my costume. You should ask Curls to help!”

“Maybe,” said Nick, confident he would do no such thing.

“It's getting late,” said Imogen. “I'll see you in the morning at the staff meeting.”

“Let me walk you to the door,” said Nick.

“I'm pretty sure I know where it is by now,” she laughed.

“Ok, fine,” said Nick. He cleaned up his kitchen as Imogen slipped out, staring at the plate of cupcakes he would drop off in the morning. Why was it so hard to try to get to know someone new?

Chapter Text

Nick hummed Christmas carols to himself as he strung lights around the house, glad he had put the time into installing permanent hooks last year. It was fairly nice weather. One of the many reasons Nick loved getting his decorations out the first weekend of November was the drier weather, but he also just loved Christmas and wanted to enjoy the season for as long as possible. Who didn't want a bit more light around in the dreary darkness of British winter? Lillian, being American, had always been firm that no decorations were allowed until after Thanksgiving. But now he lived alone, in a country with no extra holidays between Halloween and Christmas.

While the neighbours also decorated for Christmas, no one went quite as all out as Nick. It wasn't just lights and garlands, it was multiple colours of lights and candy canes along the walk, teams of illuminated gingerbread men and inflatable snowmen. And then there was Nick's pride and joy, that took up almost the entire front garden, Santa's sleigh and all nine reindeer. He had built a frame so that it looked like they were taking off into the sky, with red nosed Rudolph up by his first floor window. The reins were all lit, running the wires up to the bright red bulb.

Screwing together the frame pieces and making sure all the connections were sound took Nick most of the day, with breaks for tea and food. Each reindeer had to be attached separately, and this year, Nick had added a blanket with their names in glitter puffy paint, to help make the display more interesting in the daylight. Not that there was all that much of it this far north. As the sun set, Nick turned on his lights and stood back to admire the effect. The front of his house was suffused in a warm white glow, soft Christmas music coming from an animated set of bells. As the song said, it's the most wonderful time of the year.

💚❤️💚❤️

On Saturday mornings, Charlie slept in and went running after breakfast, coffee, and doing a few virtual races in Forza. He had his long running tights on, dreading the imminent need to break out more layers as dark, grey winter fully settled in. Earbuds in, he started his running playlist. Stepping outside, he paused to stretch. Adonis was up on a ladder… hanging lights? What the hell? It was only November 1st, and it seemed unlikely the pale, strawberry blonde was celebrating Diwali.

Charlie groaned. He hated Christmas. Loathed the whole season, especially how it kept starting earlier and earlier each year. Of course Adonis was one of those crazy people who decorated far too early. Otherwise he would just be too perfect. Resisting the urge to admire his neighbour’s arse any longer, Charlie jogged off in his usual direction towards the local park. Since it was the weekend and he didn't need to get back to do work, he tended to push himself to do an extra few laps of the duck pond. Running had always come easily to Charlie, but with the sedentary nature of his job and his inevitably slowing metabolism, he was conscious that exercise was important for multiple reasons. It was relatively mild for November, and Charlie took his time returning home to enjoy the weak sunshine before there was none.

As he turned the corner and approached the house, he stopped, stunned. Apparently Adonis wasn't stopping at stringing up some lights and tinsel. No. Now those lights had been joined by a cacophony of colourful plastic. Every inch of the front looked like Christmas had thrown up on it. Currently, there was something going up that involved power tools and what looked like construction scaffolding.

This was bad. This was very bad. This wasn't just an early decorator, or a bit of early Christmas, a potentially forgivable sin. This was someone who loved Christmas, who oozed Christmas cheer and would not understand simply not liking the holidays. Charlie would be a Grinch, a Scrooge, the wet blanket on their holiday cheer. This was so much worse than finding out, for sure, that Adonis was straight. At least then, there was a potential for friendship. This? This was as though they were from different planets.

Charlie did not come from a family where Christmas was a time to be enjoyed. Every tradition was a rigid obligation, done out of necessity, according to a very particular set of rules without any regard for enjoyment or desire. Sure, they had a tree and gifts and Christmas dinner, but it all came with an overwhelming sense of misery and shame that you were somehow doing it all Wrong.

Outside decorations each year consisted of a single green wreath with a red bow hung on the door and a single strand of white lights around the door. Inside, Jane demanded the house be scrubbed from top to bottom before Christmas morning and the arrival of her mother for Christmas dinner. They had an elderly, thinning fake tree, with only red spherical ornaments and white lights. There were no homemade ornaments, or funny ones bought because they reminded you of a story, or even another colour. There had never even been the myth of Santa, and Charlie gave up writing lists by Year 3, when it was clear that no matter what he asked for, he would receive a new jumper, a chocolate orange, a few books, a Lego set, and a larger gift for him and Tori to share. As adults, they had given up on gift exchanges altogether, and all that was left was stressful dinners with inedible dry food he would be judged for not eating enthusiastically enough.

Charlie had no idea how he was going to cope with living next to so much Christmas cheer.

💚❤️💚❤️

Nick opened the app on his phone, programming his lights to turn on a bit before sunset. Sure, he would still be at work most days, but he loved coming home to see everything lit up. It also meant he didn't have to remember to turn the lights off every night, instead setting the automation to go dark at midnight each day. The first year he had set up everything on his own, he'd regularly forgotten and Mrs. Roberts across the street had some harsh words for him about being bothered at 2am. Timers were one of his favourite coping mechanisms for his ADHD instead of just trying to force himself to remember things.

After spending all of Saturday setting up the display, Nick had hoped for a lazy Sunday relaxing on the couch with Christmas movies, but Daisy clearly had other ideas. After the third time she tried to eat a cushion, it was time to go to the park and burn off some energy. He pulled on one of his favorite holiday jumpers, a simple red and white fair isle patterned yoke with little Christmas trees repeated in white yarn, and contemplated a bandana for her, but she started playing tug with the lead. Someone had no patience for cute outfits when it was time to go play.

As they left the house, Nick glanced over at the adjacent door, where Curls lived. Maybe he should knock and finally introduce himself. Daisy, however, was already on a mission and pulling towards the park. When he had picked this house, the proximity to a place a dog could properly run had been a major selling point. Even though Lillian was at work most of the time, it had still been a difficult transition to living fully alone. When he wasn't ready to date, a furry companion seemed like a good compromise, with the added benefit of encouraging a routine.

A dreary drizzle began as they approached the park, Nick regretting his adorable but acrylic jumper, which unlike something wool, was doing nothing to keep him warm as it got progressively damper. Daisy was testing her boundaries, going in circles around him, tangling her lead around his legs. The park itself was muddy. Fetch was fine at first, but then the ball landed in a massive puddle, and Daisy splashed her whole self in, soft golden fur dark brown with mud. Then, an ill tempered Pomeranian arrived and growled at Daisy. She cowered behind Nick, coating his trousers in mud. With a sigh, he clipped her lead on to go home.

Wet and miserable, of course it was one of the rare times Nick crossed paths with Curls. He gave a weary smile at the gorgeous man in a sapphire blue wool peacoat, holding a yellow umbrella. But instead of the usual shy smiles they had for one another, the other man glared at him menacingly, his brow furrowed and lips pressed tightly. Nick paused, opening his mouth as if to say something but the other man just rolled his eyes dismissively. A car horn interrupted, and Curls jogged over and climbed in. Nick unlocked his door with a heavy sigh. Apparently something had changed. But what? Nick couldn't think of anything. Had he had the volume too loud while watching Iron Man last night? Was Daisy barking in the night? The rugby lads hadn't been over recently to be rowdy. What the hell had he done to make his neighbour mad?

💚❤️💚❤️

Charlie opened the door to Tori's car, collapsing his umbrella.

“You weren't kidding about the insane neighbour,” said Tori.

“Ugh, I know. It's literally November 2nd. And he's wearing Christmas jumpers already too.”

“Well, good luck with that.”

They drove over to Tori’s flat in silence. Ever since they had both moved out, they had made an intentional effort to spend time together regularly. Now that they were both in Manchester, that meant monthly dinners cooked by Michael. Soon enough, he was being dropped off in front of his door again, the Christmas cheer next door in full force as the sun had set. Charlie rolled his eyes. What a ludicrous display.

The next afternoon, Charlie discovered there was something worse about the display than excessively premature Christmas spirit. He was editing a training document for a professional society on aluminium processing. As he trudged through the extraction methods, trying to track aluminium versus aluminia, his eyes started to cross and lose focus. He lifted his head from his monitors to stare out his window, only to be met with a piercing red light that felt like a dagger to the eye socket. He could feel the migraine almost instantly descend even as he closed his eyes. What the hell was that?!

He stood, hoping a different angle would help the pain. It did not, but the change in perspective made the culprit abundantly clear. Rudolph. The red nosed prick.

Charlie was done for the day, retreating to his bedroom with its blackout curtains, snagging paracetamol before hiding under his duvet in muffled darkness. He would leave Adonis a note tomorrow to ask him to do something about it, and that would be the end of it.

First thing Tuesday morning, Charlie wrote a very polite note.

Dear neighbour,

Due to his current position, Rudolph with his nose so bright is creating an issue for me, as he is directly outside of my office window. Could you please adjust this nasal beacon to be elsewhere, or to only turn on after 1730?

Kind regards,
Charlie (your next door neighbour)

He left it on Adonis’s front step, confident that he would see it when he left, and went for a run. Charlie came back at his usual time, just as his neighbour usually left for the day. Unfortunately, a gust of wind scooped up the note, and Charlie watched it blow away into the wet street as the once again Christmas jumper cladded man dashed off to work.

The next morning, after another all-night headache, Charlie decided to take a more direct approach. He skipped his morning run, waiting for the happy barking that signified when they would be going on their walk. He stormed out of his front door at the tell tale ‘boof’, determined to give Adonis a piece of his mind. A hedge stood between their walks, a minor barrier, but one Charlie didn't want to climb over. He reached the end of his path and was promptly drenched as a passing car drove through a puddle at exactly the wrong angle. The cold water and colder air immediately set his teeth to chattering. As he turned to go back into his house, the golden retriever and the human golden retriever waved politely. He flipped them off, making the man frown.

After toweling off quickly, he wrote another, hastier note.

Rudolph's nose is too fucking bright. Don't turn it on until after 1800.

-Charlie

He stuck it under a small rock and stomped up the stairs, cold and miserable and behind on work. A few minutes later, he heard the man shouting “No! Daisy! Bad girl! Give me that paper. No eating paper. Fucking posties are supposed to use the letterbox for a reason!”

Charlie sighed and thumped his head on his desk. His phone pinged. A note from Amazon that the blinds he'd ordered had been delayed and would be delivered at some point in the vague future. Waking up earlier wouldn't help, as Charlie couldn't focus without his routine, and he didn't like running when it was that dark out. There just weren't enough hours of daylight for Charlie to work, and until that infernal light was dealt with, that was going to be difficult.

—

The next morning, after Adonis was safely out of the house, Charlie took a new strategy. During one of his breaks, he threw on a jacket and shoes, and followed the cords from the sleigh back to the outlet. The temptation was to cut them, but he hoped that this would give him an opportunity both to work later and to finally have a conversation with his neighbour.

He was able to keep working for almost an extra hour before the ominous red glow reappeared. Wincing, Charlie stomped downstairs and over to the door. He pounded on it, but instead of the large blonde man, a petite woman with enormous blue eyes opened the door.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Charlie's mouth opened and closed in shock, his planned rant derailed. “Just… just tell your boyfriend his ridiculous Christmas decorations are too damn bright and it's too fucking early for them anyway.”

“Not my boyfriend, and no. Go away now,” she said, shutting the door in his face. He stood there, astounded.

—

On Thursday morning, no plate of baked goods awaited Charlie, and Rudolph's demonic glow was somehow brighter than before. He found the plugs zip tied into place, not that it has made much difference.

A wild idea popped into his head.

Charlie was fairly light, and the scaffolding was clearly quite sturdy. He could just… take the light bulb. It would take a day or two minimum to replace, and maybe by then Charlie could actually explain things. Gloveless fingers cold as he grabbed the wood, he scrambled up. Unfortunately, Rudolph himself was cantilevered from his back hooves, that red nose just out of Charlie's reach when supported fully by the structure. He inched his way forward, putting more weight onto the reindeer until…

Snap!

Rudolph's head sheared off and dropped several feet, dangling by the wires to his nose. Shit! But the universe was conspiring against him, and an ill-timed sneeze sent Charlie tumbling forward, grabbing for anything to slow his fall. Unfortunately, a few electrical wires were no match for an adult male human and broke. Charlie landed on the ground with a hard thump.

He checked himself over, but other than a very bruised behind, there were no injuries. Well, to him anyway. On the ground in front of him was Rudolph's head.

Oh shit.

What was he supposed to do now?

💚❤️💚❤️

When Imogen had slammed the door in someone's face Wednesday evening, Nick had been thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” he asked.

“I'm sorry to tell you, but your new neighbour is a total grinch, and a bit of an arsehole. He was yelling about how it's too early or something.”

“I found one of the plugs pulled earlier. I wondered how that happened,” said Nick.

“I bet he did it. Prick.”

Nick frowned, confused. “How is it his problem anyway?”

“Forget him, let's make these cupcakes for tomorrow,” said Imogen.

But Nick couldn't stop thinking about it. Surely he could have left a polite note? Wait… was that the piece of paper Daisy had eaten? But also, they were just decorations.

Unfortunately, Nick was so stuck in his head that he burned the first batch of cupcakes, leaving him with only enough for the staff meeting.

“It's ok,” said Imogen. “Even if he's pretty, Curls doesn't deserve your baking.”

“Did he say his name?” asked Nick, curious.

“No, he just blurted out that he thought your decorations were ridiculous and assumed you were my boyfriend,” Imogen said dismissively.

“Huh.”

—

The next morning passed without incident, and without cupcakes on the adjacent door step. Nick thought nothing more of it during the day, swamped by helping kids spell words correctly and trying not to laugh at some of their more creative attempts. He cleans up his classroom and heads home with a tired smile on his face and an empty container with a few stray crumbs.

Walking up to his door, Nick stops. Something is very wrong with Santa's sleigh. Nothing is wrong with Santa, or the sleigh, or even the eight other reindeer, but Rudolph is dark. And… decapitated?

Then he sees it. On his front step is Rudolph's disconnected head, wires dangling, the pins that hold it in place bent.

What the fuck?!

Nick was not a naturally angry person. If anything, he tended to be too agreeable for his own good. But this? This was too far. His fists clenched. Not liking Christmas was one thing, but murdering Rudolph? What kind of monster would do that? Nick cradled the reindeer's head and plotted his revenge.

Chapter Text

Nick contemplated his options for revenge. At heart, he was not a particularly aggressive person, rugby pitch notwithstanding. But years around laddish types in locker rooms had exposed Nick to many, many prank ideas. One of the things he had observed was that the best pranks weren't just about timing or magnitude, but about making it tailored to the person and situation. Like the time Christian had hidden a greeting card sound device that sang Old MacDonald in the locker door of one of their teammates who grew up on a farm, so every time he opened his locker, it sang at him.

Music was as good a starting point as any.

Nick found an old Bluetooth speaker from IKEA and positioned it against the shared wall. This speaker has the benefit of continuing to play without his phone in the house, so it could play all day while he was at school. He pulled open Spotify and started to build a new playlist. First was the most obvious option, “You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch”. Then he added the songs he could think of associated with social media games, “Last Christmas” and “Little Drummer Boy”, along with Mariah Carey and Michael Bublé, and of course, “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer”. Content with his starting point, Nick took Daisy out for her walk.

Curls was returning from his run, and tried to approach Nick.

“Um…” said Curls before Nick cut him off.

“Listen, I don't know what your problem is, but you're lucky I'm not reporting you for destruction of property. I don't know what I, or Rudolph, ever did to you, but you didn't have to be an arsehole about it.” Nick felt the angry adrenaline pulsing through his veins, part of why he hated confrontation. Tension hung in the air like razor sharp icicles.

“I didn't… I just…” Curls looked stunned by Nick's outburst, almost panicked before squaring up his shoulders. “Whatever,” he said dismissively. Curls turned on his heel and went to his door, walking away from the confrontation.

Nick shook his head and let Daisy lead the way for their regular walk.

That weekend, Nick went to B&Q early, armed with unspent birthday money from his father. After spending far too long in the Christmas inflatables section, he made his final selections, balancing ones he legitimately enjoyed with ones that would be as annoying as possible for his grinchy neighbour. The family of penguins living in an igloo was just irresistibly cute, and the inflatable Christmas T Rex made him giggle, but it was the 8ft tall gingerbread man he selected to stare creepily into next door’s window. He also got multiple rolls of metallic gift wrap and gold ribbon.

The inflatables took almost no time to set up, just requiring an outlet and a couple tent stakes. He spent the rest of the day transforming cardboard boxes into enormous presents and anchoring them to the hedge, creating a bigger barrier between the houses. That way he would be less likely to have to be reminded of how devastatingly attractive his neighbour is, and be disappointed by the whole situation. Instead of flirting, here they were, fighting.

They stayed at this cold impasse for several weeks, glaring at one another any time they happened to cross paths. Poor Daisy was very confused why she wasn't allowed to approach the nice man for pets. Nick was finally able to re-wire Rudolph and straighten the alignment pins.

On a Wednesday night, Nick and Imogen were baking peppermint shortbread.

“Has there been anything else from your grumpy neighbour?” she asked.

“Mostly angry stares. Sometimes things are rearranged in funny ways. I'm really starting to feel like I overreacted,” said Nick.

“He killed the most famous reindeer of all! We should be lacing a batch of these with laxatives!”

“Wow, remind me to stay on your good side. Besides, what if we mixed up the batches? Too risky,” said Nick.

“Think about it,” said Imogen.

Nick did not think about it. He might be angrier than he had been in a long time, but he had limits. He decided to focus on being as aggressively cheerful as possible instead.

💚❤️💚❤️

The first day he heard Christmas music through the walls, well, Charlie was pretty sure he deserved it. And a horrible selection of songs it was, starting off with the clear message of the Grinch. Then there was the original Rudolph song, Little Drummer Boy, some Bing Crosby, and that stupid high pitched Walking in the Air. Fine. He got it. Yay Christmas.

But then the music kept going. And going. All day, on loop. The next day. The next week. It wasn't particularly loud. It was just… pervasive.

It was like working in retail again, but in his own house.

Noise cancelling headphones solved a lot of the issue, but video calls were incredibly awkward, plus chewing noises, and Charlie never got a break to just listen to nothing. It was starting to drive him mad. He had thought about apologising, but after two weeks of musical misery, Charlie was not feeling particularly charitable or forgiving towards the man he had decided was not Adonis, but Dionysus. Not strictly evil, but definitely awful to live next to.

It also seemed like the decorations were multiplying every time Charlie left the house, though Rudolph's fiery assault had not returned yet. He was sure it was only a matter of time. Still, the eerie smile of the gingerbread man looking through his window gave Charlie a jump scare at least once a day. More than once, Charlie had moved it to another place only for it to be returned overnight. He'd also taken to messing with the other decorations, once impaling Vixen with a plastic candy cane, and giving the penguins little cardboard signs protesting climate change. He had smiled the first time the T. Rex appeared, laughing at the absurdity of it. Charlie had bought one of those disturbing surveillance state shelf elves from the op shop and marked it up with a red marker before taping it in the dinosaur's mouth. He was sad that it only lasted a couple days before being noticed and removed.

Even though he was still angry at Dionysus, Charlie found himself watching out the window in the morning as his neighbour walked his dog. Why deny himself eye candy? It's not like he was trying to start a relationship with the man. The range of Christmas jumpers was impressive. Charlie didn't see them every day, with the weather sometimes mandating a raincoat. So far, there had been a few fairly tasteful ones, two with giant Christmas trees on the front, three different reindeer including one Rudolph complete with pom pom nose, a Santa, and a confusing one with different evolutions of Eevee the Pokemon.

The blinds he ordered for his office finally arrived, only for him to find that where he had measured at the bottom of the window frame was almost an entire inch narrower than the top, where he would need to mount them. The box sat uselessly on the floor next to his desk.

One day, when he was over at Tori's for mandatory Spring Sibling Bonding Time, as Michael had named it, Charlie returned to find his door gift wrapped. He ripped off the shiny red paper only to find another layer of green beneath it, and silver below that. Such was his frustration at having to unwrap his front door that he didn't notice the coating of glitter on his white Converse shoes and royal blue wool coat that must have been hidden between the layers of paper. No amount of sticky tape seemed to be able to get it all off. He resigned himself to having a slightly sparkly coat for the rest of winter.

And then the beacon of evil was back. Fuck. The rest of the display was just tacky, but didn't really bother Charlie. That stupid red nose, though, was the worst migraine trigger he had ever experienced. He stupidly hadn't tried to find an alternative window covering, and now, in the middle of a very intense but dry paragraph about the Tay Bridge Disaster in a book about engineering failures due back in two weeks. He had absentmindedly looked up from his screen, not noticing the red glow in his peripheral vision, and straight at the bulb. The twinge behind his eye started almost immediately, like a tiny elf jabbing an ice pick into his optic nerve.

No more notes, no more chickening out, no more being too polite. It was time to give Dionysus a piece of his mind.

💚❤️💚❤️

Nick and Daisy returned from their evening walk in the drizzle, pausing by the door so he could dry off her paws with the designated towel. He had only just knelt down when the doorbell rang. She barked happily. Confused, Nick stood and opened the door to reveal Curls.

“Can I help you?” asked Nick.

The man in front of him was frowning. “Do you realise that Rudolph's nose shines directly in my upstairs window? Or that it's brighter than a fucking lighthouse beam? I was already stressed about deadlines but now if I work after 4 I'm going to get a migraine because it's so bright and spend the next day locked in a dark closet and I already came out once so I really would prefer to avoid it. Oh, and par ump a bum bum is haunting my dreams now, except I can't sleep because the Nose of Sauron is glowing. I tried to leave you notes and come talk to you but your dog ate my note and your girlfriend told me to piss off and all I'm asking is, for the love of God, get Rudolph a nose that isn't so bright. Please.” He looked close to tears, worry and pain etched in the lines of his face.

Nick stood in stunned silence. Before he could respond, the man started talking again.

“I know I could just put up curtains but I ordered blinds and they didn't fit the window and I just want to feel like I'm not locked in a room because I've done the psych ward thing and it's not fun, and sometimes I just want to look out my damn window while I'm working. Maybe if we didn't live where it gets dark mid afternoon this would be fine and we could get along but I'm still working when it's dark and you've turned on that stupid thing. It's only just now December! And it's already been a month of holiday tat! I feel like you're trying to make me lose my damn mind!”

Nick stood, processing all the words that had just come spilling forth, trying to figure out what to respond to first. “Imogen's not my girlfriend,” he blurted out.

“Out of my entire fucking rant, that's the part you paid attention to?” yelled Curls. “Oh my fucking God, what is wrong with you?!” He turned on his heel and stormed off, passing Imogen as she arrived for their regular baking session together.

“Who pissed in his cornflakes?” she asked, turning back to Nick.

“Me, apparently.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Let's go make tea first,” said Nick.

Daisy, who had been waiting patiently, trotted over to her food bowl as Nick closed the door behind Imogen. He filled her bowl and the kettle, dropping tea bags into their usual mugs and generally pottering around the kitchen. Imogen sat at the table, waiting.

“Well?” she said.

“I'm still thinking,” said Nick.

“How was being yelled at by a grumpy arsehole somehow such a revelation?”

“It turns out I might actually be the arsehole in this whole thing. Do you remember how I switched Rudolph's nose last year?” said Nick.

“Yeah, because you wanted his nose to be actually bright “

“So I did too good a job. And the scaffolding puts it right up next to one of his windows.”

“So?”

“I've been giving him migraines.” Nick set a mug of tea in front of Imogen and sat.

“Ooh. Well, fuck. I guess I would murder Rudolph for that too.”

“Yeah.”

There was a silent pause as they processed.

“I think I still have the old bulb,” Nick said.

“That seems like a good idea,” said Imogen. “Maybe we should make him some cookies tonight?”

“And maybe write an apology note.”

“Definitely. Did you catch his name?”

“Ugh, still no,” said Nick. “And he's even hotter up close!” He paused, replaying the rant in his head. “I'm pretty sure he said something about coming out, too.”

“Ooh!” Imogen clapped excitedly. “If he doesn't hate you forever, you might have a chance.”

Nick frowned. “I'm pretty sure he hates me forever, though. I forced him to listen to constant Christmas music. I glitter bombed him!”

“It's ok, love. You know now, and everyone knows the best apologies start with biscuits,” said Imogen, patting his shoulder in reassurance. “So let's get baking.”

As it ramped up towards Christmas, and Nick began to assemble all the different doughs to make the kind of Christmas cookie platters his ex-inlaws did, he and Imogen made three types of biscuits. He made a soft molasses cookie, modified to use black treacle, along with jam thumbprints, and chocolate snowflake biscuits. His plans also included rosemary chocolate chip shortbread, sugar cookies, snickerdoodles, peppermint twists, peanut butter criss cross, chocolate cherry, and matcha wreaths. He had a whole colored coded plan based on bake temperature, freezability, fussiness, and ranks for which ones were absolutely mandatory versus those that could be replaced if he found a new recipe to try. Imogen made fun of him mercilessly for the level of planning involved the first year, but had conceded it was a very effective system. If Nick was going to insist on baking a minimum of 10 varieties a year before the school holidays started.

While everything cooled, Nick went out to the shed and found the old bulb and the ladder, quietly swapping the bulbs. He also made a mental note to adjust Rudolph's mount to point out more, and updated his schedule to turn on at 5, instead of based on sunset.

He found a blank note card with blue and yellow watercolor flowers and his old fountain pen. Imogen was long gone as Nick sat down at his kitchen table and stared as he thought about what to write. Eventually, he decided to keep it simple.

Truce?

Nick

Chapter Text

Charlie left for his run on Thursday morning, only to be greeted by a plate full of biscuits with a note, carefully wrapped in cling film to keep everything dry. He set the plate inside to deal with later. Luckily, his migraine had not fully taken hold yesterday before he applied caffeine and paracetamol, and he was feeling good today. That was a relief, both because he had work to get done, but also, his friends Elle and Tao were coming over for a belated horror movie night. What was usually a Halloween tradition had been postponed while Tao was on location in Kent to shoot some big Netflix project.

The plate sat forgotten on his counter as Charlie rushed through his morning, hoping to get as much as possible done today before being interrupted by lights. He had two more main chapters and a conclusion left to review, as well as another pass through the citation index. While he had checked for accuracy throughout, he still needed to review formatting consistency. He took his toast and tea up to his office, and settled in with Muse playing through his headphones, not noticing the lack of music next door.

Charlie stopped for lunch, stretching his back after several stiff hours typing. No matter how ergonomic his desk setup was, not moving for that long always caused issues. Even when he was on a roll, he made sure to step away for lunch. He ate his sandwich standing, finally noticing the quiet. Huh. That was different.

The rest of the afternoon flew by, the natural light fading quickly. Charlie lost track of time, deep in the manuscript until he heard a pounding at the door. Tao and Elle weren't supposed to be here until half past 4. He looked out the window into… darkness? His computer clock read 16:44. But Rudolph’s nose remained dark.

Charlie jogged down the stairs, throwing the door open for his friends.

“Finally!” proclaimed Tao.

“Hello, love, can we come in?” said Elle.

“So sorry, I lost track of time,” said Charlie. “Come in, come in!” He stepped to the side as they came in, shedding scarves and hats and coats.

“I thought you said your neighbour had a super obnoxious lights display that would be on,” said Tao. “I wasn't sure we had the right place.”

“Normally it's on by now,” said Charlie, frowning. “I should read the note he left this morning.”

“That seems like a reasonable plan,” said Elle. “Easier than just trying to psychically absorb the message like that weird art film character.”

“Hey! That film was…” Tao was cut off by a kiss from his girlfriend.

Charlie went to the kitchen and removed the cling film, opening the envelope addressed to Curls with a little smile.

“Oo, biscuits!” said Elle.

“I guess he's back to leaving baked goods for me,” said Charlie as he opened the card.

“What does it say?” asked Tao.

“Just truce with a question mark, and his name,” said Charlie. “I guess absolutely losing it at him last night worked.”

“Oh?”

Charlie recounted his rant and Nick's baffling response as the trio made popcorn and ordered pizzas and settled into Charlie's slightly lumpy couch. The plate of biscuits also came over, Charlie selecting one of the jam thumbprints, while Elle took a spiced biscuit and Tao chose chocolate.

“These are amazing,” said Elle. “You should ask for the recipe.”

“I'm not sure we have that sort of neighbourly relationship yet,” said Charlie. “I think we're more at icy politeness now.”

“Babe, nothing you've told us says icy or polite,” said Elle.

“The number of times you've referred to him as hot, for example,” said Tao. “At least pining is seasonally appropriate.”

“Oi! It's fine! Everything's fine. Wine, anyone?” said Charlie.

“You know what I haven't had for Christmas in years?” said Elle contemplatively. “Mulled wine.”

“I could make some in the microwave,” he suggested.

“Charles. Francis. Spring. Did you just suggest microwaving mulled wine?” said Tao.

“I think I've got a pre-spiced bottle from IKEA I was given last year,” said Charlie.

Tao lifted his eyebrows skeptically.

“What?” asked Charlie.

“I knew you didn't enjoy Christmas, but I didn't realise you actively sabotaged all forms of Christmas joy,” said Tao.

“No, that's my mother,” said Charlie.

“Are you going home this year?” asked Elle.

“No, they're visiting Abuela in Spain, and Tori and Michael are going to Iceland because Tori said there's too much sunshine here.”

“I'm never sure when Tori is joking,” said Tao. “But what are you going to do?”

“Probably stay home, eat leftover takeout and watch Die Hard,” said Charlie.

“I don't care what the Internet says, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie!” said Tao.

Charlie grinned, his gambit successfully moving the topic away from his slightly sad plans. Still, it was better than the stressful performance required of a holiday hosted by Jane Spring. And he was used to being lonely these days. But his friends were here now, so he tried to stop wallowing and be present in the moment.

Once Tao and Elle were safely out the door, Charlie paused to look at the Christmas display next door as a few snowflakes gently tumbled through the crisp winter air. In the right mood, it was actually quite pretty. It also seemed like Rudolph's nose wasn't quite so bright anymore. Nick clearly loved Christmas in a way Charlie had never experienced. It was sweet, in a way. He watched as a car drove past slowly, a little face plastered against the window with an expression of pure awe. Charlie stood in contemplative silence as they drove away.

💚❤️💚❤️

After making his decoration modifications, Nick hoped he was in a better place with Curls. He still had yet to learn his actual name, but his hopes were high that they could get along eventually. Nick had always tried to be a good neighbour, but he wanted more than nodding at each other when their paths crossed, and redelivering packages when the postie got it wrong, and helping grit the walks when it was icy. He wanted to get to know him. A real name would be a good start.

For the next week, they continued to wave at one another, Curls leaving for his run as Nick and Daisy returned, and returning from his run as Nick was leaving for the day. He made sure to wear his gayest Christmas sweaters, including the one with “Don we now our gay apparel” in rainbow yarn, and the more tasteful Icelandic style sweater in bi flag colors his mum had knitted for him last year. When it was too cold, he wore his beanie with rainbow hearts, and his Pride tartan scarf. Nick was very aware that his rugby lad looks often overrode the gaydars of others. Even his friend Darcy, who was known for her ability to find fellow queers, was surprised when he came out to her and her wife Tara. Thinking of the couple, he shot off a text.

[Nick]: Hello! I'm planning my usual Christmas Eve party. Are you guys coming?

Every year since Nick could remember, his mum had always thrown a big party for friends and family, and stray coworkers, and friends of friends, and neighbours, and neighbours who had moved years ago but kept in touch… With David and his wife and kids in Scotland, though, Sarah had moved to only hosting it every other year, visiting David the rest of the time. While Nick loved his niblings, he was not close enough to his brother to try and join the trip now that he was back across the Atlantic. Instead, he threw his own party, and while the guest list wasn't as extensive, it was still the sort of wonderful chaos he had always loved. As long as he could keep Darcy from talking people into going caroling again. Poor Mr. Kumar down the street had been very baffled by demands for figgy pudding, especially when the carolers also had no idea what it actually was.

Finally, someone responded to his text.

[Tara]: we will be there!
[Darcy]: with bells on!
[Darcy]: literally!
[Tara]: she found a new jumper on clearance at TK Maxx…
[Darcy]: you wouldn't let me get the one where my tits are reindeer noses!
[Nick]: anyway…
[Nick]: I should warn the new neighbour, right?
[Tara]: or you could just invite him
[Tara]: remember when your mum invited the woman from the first aid tent at bonfire night?
[Nick]: given she's still married to Nora, yes
[Darcy]: Sarah Nelson, bisexual icon!
[Nick]: I try not to think of my mum and sex in the same sentence
[Tara]: but you think he's hot, right?
[Tara]: this could be your big chance!
[Nick]: that seems like a stretch, but he at least deserves a warning
[Nick]: especially if Darcy tries singing again
[Darcy]: I blame the egg nog
[Tara]: you're the one who spiked an already alcoholic beverage
[Darcy]: how was i supposed to know?? Eggnog is weird!
[Tara]: we'll be there - I'll pat her down for flasks before we leave the flat
[Nick]: good plan - love you both!

Nick had Friday off, so in order to actually talk to Curls for once, he and Daisy cut their routine short with promises of extra walks later. Instead of crossing paths partway to the park, Nick was able to catch Curls as he was coming out of his front door.

“Hi neighbour!” said Nick.

“Hi?” said Curls quizzically.

“I just wanted to let you know that I'm having a party on Christmas Eve. I try to keep it down with the shared walls and all, but sometimes my friend Darcy gets a little loud. Her wife promises to keep her from caroling at your door again this year. You can come if you want?” Nick rubbed his neck nervously underneath his rainbow striped scarf.

“Oh. Thanks for telling me. I'll think about it. Um…” There was a pause as the dark-haired man looked at Nick thoughtfully, like he'd never fully seen him before. “My name is Charlie, by the way.” He gave a small smile and wave before jogging off.

Nick stared, watching long slender legs rapidly disappear. Daisy nosed his hand, reminding him they were still standing out in the cold.

“Sorry, girl,” he said, unlocking the door.

Charlie. His name was Charlie. Nick finally had a name.

💚❤️💚❤️

Charlie’s week has been incredibly productive without the anxiety of reindeer triggered migraines and glorious silence whenever he took off his headphones. He had perhaps gone too deep into his work in compensation, though, working late and getting several projects done well in advance of their deadlines. Taking advantage of a free afternoon, he had called Isaac. Unlike Tori, or Tao and Elle, his friendship with the quiet bookworm was less structured. At times they could go months without speaking, yet Isaac instantly understood what was happening in Charlie's life as though no time had passed. Charlie has also reviewed a few of Isaac's books. While he hid safely behind a pen name, Isaac had found success as a YA fantasy author with queer characters.

With both of them having a flexible day, they had agreed to meet for tea and talk. He appreciated Isaac's more tempered viewpoint. Tao and Elle were prone to dramatic interpretation and catastrophisation. If he needed real advice, his calm friend was the best choice. Not that Isaac would protect his feelings if Charlie needed the harsh truth. But he needed someone to talk through the Neighbour Nick thing, especially before he potentially accepted a party invitation.

“So tell me about Kris Kringle,” opened Isaac as Charlie sat down with his beverage.

“I finally managed to just talk to him. Well, maybe not so much talk as self-righteously rant at him? At first, his reaction was to tell me that the woman who comes over every week isn't actually his girlfriend, which is weird, right?”

Isaac gave a small nod, but said nothing.

“But he changed the timing on his lights and the bulb and I've actually been able to work until a reasonable time all week. And then this morning, he invited me to his Christmas Eve party. Or was just warning me and wanted to be polite. Either way, I shouldn't go, right?” Charlie paused to sip his drink.

“Do you want to go?” asked Isaac.

“What? I don't know. Maybe? I mean, what do I even know about this guy?”

“A party seems like a good opportunity, then,” said Isaac. “Are you worried he's homophobic or something?”

“No, he mentioned his lesbian friends, and he wears all this rainbow ally stuff.”

Isaac snorted. “Denial, thou art not just a river in Egypt. Have you considered that he might not be straight?”

Charlie frowned. “That's worse than just having a straight guy crush. You get how that's worse, right?”

“Nope. Explain it to me, o ye who is wise in the ways of romance,” said Isaac with an ironic grin.

“Because if he does like men, then it's my fault I have absolutely no chance with him, because I'm the arsehole who destroyed his wholesome Christmas display. If he's straight, I never had a chance anyway and didn't screw anything up.”

“I don't think there's no hope. He's clearly trying to give you a second chance.” Isaac paused. “I've decided. You should go to the party.”

“Nope. Not gonna.” Charlie crossed his arms and frowned.

“What's the worst that could happen?”

Charlie burst into laughter. “Given our track record? I'll burn down both our houses.”

“So avoid that, and whatever happens won't be that bad. Go and avoid any open flames. What's the best that could happen?” Isaac waited for Charlie to really consider his response. It was a question that Isaac often asked, yet it came as a surprise every time.

“I discover Nick is my soulmate and we live happily ever after? Which seems very unlikely, given the clear lack of compatibility.”

“Is it worth the risk?”

“Maybe?”

“Then go to Saint Nick's Christmas party.” Isaac leaned back, knowing he had won this argument.

Charlie shook his head. “Fine, but I'm not wearing anything festive.”

“Of course not. You want to look hot! Now, let's compare the worst typos we found this week.”

Charlie relaxed and let the conversation with Isaac flow freely, current emotional crisis delayed.

💚❤️💚❤️

Nick had waved at Charlie several more times since the invitation, but once again, their schedules had drifted back to the typical place where they only saw each other in passing. The short December days had rapidly slid past, and now Nick stood in the wine aisle of Tesco, considering his options for mulled wine this year. He had a spice blend he loved, but budgets meant he often hunted for the most affordable bottle of red wine that looked good enough. He waffled between a Merlot and a Malbec, ultimately picking a bottle because the little cow on the label was adorable. Add a bottle of Calvados, and it was a smooth and dangerously drinkable mixture.

He had plenty of food planned to offset the alcohol, including mince pies, mini Wellingtons, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, a veggie tray, cheeseboard, and salmon blinis. Plus all the baked goods. Every year, Nick worried if there was enough, and every year, he sent people home with plates of food. Which reminded him to grab more disposable plates. But should he add another dish? Spinach puffs?

The two days before the party, but after school let out, were filled with cooking and cleaning. Nick moved the speaker from against the shared wall to the middle of his kitchen and let Christmas music play as he prepared for guests. Mulled wine simmered on the stove, red and gold table linens were out, hiding that half of the surfaces were plastic folding tables, and LED candles were in the fireplace. The tree in the corner had its collection of sentimental ornaments, and he had hung his stocking, even if he had bought his own chocolate orange for the morning. Nick was fussing with the stacks of paper napkins when the doorbell rang.

“Nicky! My man! The party has arrived!” A small blonde dervish called Darcy was followed by her more sedate girlfriend, wearing matching Buddy the Elf sweaters. He was wearing his favourite jumper, a classic green and white with leaping red nosed reindeer. It wasn't the flashiest option, but it was the comfiest, and he looked good in green.

“You guys are actually the first ones here,” said Nick.

“I told her she couldn't pregame tonight, so we got out the door faster than usual,” said Tara.

“Well, you know where to put your coats. No eggnog this year, but there's mulled wine on the stove,” said Nick. “It's strong, so watch out.”

Tara nodded, and trailed after Darcy, who was loading her plate with Christmas cookies already.

They were quickly followed by Klaus from the rugby team, who had found a red and white striped jumper that had alternating pairs of thick and thin stripes so he looked like a candy cane instead of Wally. Next were Clifton and Reginald, who Nick had met in uni when he took Clifton’s lecture and were wearing coordinating cable knit jumpers in burgundy and dark green. Imogen brought along Sahar, followed by Amy, one of the science teachers at the school. The receptionist Katie arrived in her signature mince pie jumper and equally trademark near-injury as she tripped on the step. She was rescued by the school librarian, Erin, who had found a cardigan that looked like bookshelves.

With each new arrival, Nick found himself checking next door for any sign that Charlie was coming over. Sadly, it seemed that while his apology had been accepted, the olive branch had not. Nick circulated amongst his guests, making sure everyone had found the menu item he knew they would love most. He smiled as he watched the happy crowd, his home filled with joy. He was debating topping up the mulled wine when he heard the doorbell.

Charlie stood in a burgundy button down and black skinny jeans.

“You made it!” exclaimed Nick.

“Yeah, I got a little lost. It was hard to find the place. Rudolph's nose wasn't bright enough.” Charlie gave a cautious grin. “I brought Bailey's,” he said, extending the bottle.

“Great! Let me take you to the kitchen and we can put it in the fridge.” Nick's body fizzed with excitement, like his blood was somehow all replaced with prosecco. Charlie was here! In his house! “I'd show you around, but I'm pretty sure you're familiar with the layout,” said Nick.

“Only reversed. It's sort of like being in a mirror universe over here,” replied Charlie.

Walking into the kitchen, Nick made introductions to the trio standing around the drinks table. “These are my friends, Imogen, Tara and Darcy,” Nick said, pointing to each in turn. “All, this is Charlie, my neighbour.“

Imogen waved. “Hi, I'm the not-girlfriend.” Nick blushed, but Charlie didn't seem to notice.

“Charlie, my man! Nick was right, you are hot! And I say that as a total lesbian,” said Darcy with a grin.

“Forgive my wife, she takes the ‘spirit’ part of Christmas a little too much to heart,” said Tara with an affectionate eye roll.

“It's good to meet the other local gays,” said Charlie, chuckling.

“Oh my God, we found another one,” proclaimed Darcy. “We’ve got L, B and A. Are you my missing G?” She pointed at Nick as she said B, Charlie raising an intrigued eyebrow.

“Definitely G,” giggled Charlie. The butterflies in Nick's stomach exploded into flight. He had a chance? Probably not, but more than nothing.

The evening went smoothly, Charlie getting along fabulously with Nick's friends. Nick did his best to circulate amongst the group, but he kept finding his gaze drawn back to the curly haired man. His laugh was amazing, and Nick wished he was the one inspiring that sound. Sahar smiled as Nick realised she'd stopped talking and he couldn't remember what she had just said. “You could just go over there and talk to him,” she said.

“I don't want to be clingy and weird,” grumbled Nick.

“Get Lillian out of your head,” said Imogen. “You know he's attractive, but you don't know if you really like him.”

But before Nick could protest, Darcy burst into the living room.

“Who wants to go caroling?!” Darcy waved a handful of booklets. “I printed lyrics and everything this year!”

Sahar and Imogen excitedly left Nick, grabbing a booklet to share. Klaus and Tara were already bundled up to go. Katie and Erin hesitated briefly, but Darcy cajoled them into coming. In the end, Darcy convinced everyone except Clifton, Reginald and Charlie to follow her, the couple politely wishing Nick a good night and making an elegant exit. Charlie has protested that he didn't have an appropriate coat along, conveniently ignoring the proximity of his closet.

After walking Clifton and Reginald out, Nick found Charlie nervously waiting by the mulled wine.

“Hi,” said Charlie.

“Hi.”

There was a moment of awkward silence and then they both spoke at the same time.

“I'm sorry for –”

“I'm really sorry –”

They paused again and laughed.

“You first,” said Nick.

“I'm really sorry I destroyed your display instead of talking to you, or putting up some damn curtains,” said Charlie.

“And I'm sorry that I didn't think about my neighbours when I made the flying sleigh,” said Nick. “When it comes to Christmas, I just… tend to go overboard.”

“Just a little,” said Charlie with a cheeky smile. “It's kind of like you gave a 6 year old total creative control and a massive budget.”

“Oi! I'll have you know that this is surprisingly affordable when you shop the Boxing Day sales strategically!” Nick pretended to look cross.

“So besides being obsessed with Christmas and having a super cute dog, tell me about who Nick is.” Charlie refilled his mulled wine and leaned against the counter.

Nick told Charlie about teaching, and rugby, his love of baking and his mum, and his ex-in laws, and why he'd picked Manchester when he moved back to England. In turn, he learned about Charlie's job as a freelance editor, his Classics degree, inability to cook, his sister Tori, his music (“You play the drums! That's so cool!” Nick had said), the difficulty of Christmas with Jane Spring and her roasts that resembled the weird freeze dried ice cream for astronauts they sell at museum gift stores. Through it all, there were glances and smiles and finding excuses to touch one another (you have some glitter on your jumper… here, let me get that cup from behind you). Nick was pretty sure he had caught Charlie looking down at his lips, and knew he'd paid more attention to Charlie's wine-stained lips than purely neighbourly. He was enraptured, and as they kept talking, the fortified wine seemed to be making Charlie bold.

“So if Imogen is not your girlfriend, is there someone else?” asked Charlie.

“Not right now,” said Nick.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Nick felt himself starting to panic. Was it too soon to say something? They'd only just apologised. “Um… maybe?” Damnit, Nelson, pull it together, he fumed at himself.

“Are they pretty?” asked Charlie, slurring slightly.

Nick's eyes raked over Charlie. “The prettiest.”

For some reason, Charlie dropped a little at that response.

“And handsomest,” said Nick, thrilled when Charlie perked back up. Maybe he wasn't used to being called pretty. He suddenly realised that despite the empty house, he and Charlie were standing very close together. Still, Charlie leaned closer, now openly looking at Nick's mouth.

“Would you kiss them?” asked Charlie.

“Maybe,” breathed Nick.

Just then, the carousing carolers returned, and Charlie seemed to notice how close they were.

“Oh my gosh, I'm sorry.” He blinked rapidly. “I should… I should probably get home. I think the wine was stronger than I expected.”

“Let me walk you home,” said Nick.

Charlie laughed. “I'm not so drunk that I'll get lost going next door. Um. Thank you.”

Before Nick could react, Charlie had said goodbye to the group and vanished.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter Text

Charlie woke up on Christmas morning with a throbbing headache, a mouth that felt like wooly socks, and most inexplicably, the sound of his doorbell. When it rang again, he grumbled his way out of bed and shoved his feet into a pair of slippers before opening his door. A plate of warm muffins and a box wrapped in the same foil paper that had been used to decorate his door weeks ago sat on the doorstep. In the distance, he could see Nick and Daisy heading towards the park. When Nick turned, Charlie gave a little wave. Nick rewards him with a massive smile and a much larger wave before Daisy makes clear that she is on a mission. Charlie has taken a day off his running routine, but Nick didn't have the same flexibility, it appeared.

He took the muffins and box inside, and started coffee. There was no way he was getting back to sleep now. The world was covered in a light blanket of snow which seemed to hush the already quiet morning. His throbbing head appreciated the silence, and his queasy stomach appreciated the apple cinnamon muffin he was eating in tiny pieces. Charlie pondered the wrapped box in front of him. While he remembered most of the previous evening, including his very abrupt exit, he couldn't think of what he might have said that would have inspired a gift.

Was it that he was waking up alone, and would only see Tori and Michael, who were ambivalent about the whole gift thing and probably grumpy about volcanoes canceling their Icelandic travel plans? Did Nick just give everyone presents? That … seemed quite likely. Charlie had discovered that beneath the golden god-like exterior of his neighbour lay an equally golden heart. Nick was incredibly kind, and wanted to take care of everyone else in his life, occasionally to his own detriment based on some of the stories about his ex wife.

Nick's friends had also been wonderful, accepting Charlie into the group as if he'd always been there. Imogen in particular had been on a quest to include him, and had been hyping Nick to an almost suspicious degree early in the evening. But when he'd gotten to spend time with just Nick, it had become clear she was being an overenthusiastic wing woman trying to push them together.

If they had been alone another five minutes, Charlie had no doubts that he would have caved to the desire to kiss Nick. But when everyone returned, it was a sobering reminder that he was quite drunk, and Drunk Charlie had a long history of misinterpreting the actions of others. He remembered the time in secondary school, when he was sitting in a quiet corner, chatting with a boy, and when he went in for a kiss, the other boy made a sound of disgust and ran away. Or the time in uni when he asked the cute guy for his number only to be told about his girlfriend. Which was still better than the time he was making out with someone in a bar, until they were broken up by the boyfriend the other man was trying to make jealous. Nick might be bi, but did that make him interested in Charlie?

He was surprised to find he had eaten the entire muffin while woolgathering and staring at the shiny blue gift box. Pulling on the end of the ribbon, Charlie carefully removed the gold bow before undoing the tape and paper. He folded the paper with crisp lines, a habit from years of being told not to rip presents open so Jane could reuse the paper. Inside the box, he found a striped rainbow apron and a clearly well loved copy of Delia's How to Cook, with several old bookmarks and a sharp white envelope. He carefully withdrew it from its spot tucked inside the book.

Charlie,

I hope you find this gift helpful for starting you on a new cooking journey. Delia and I have spent a lot of time together over the years. I'd love to have you over to show you some basics.

Happy Christmas,
Nick

Was this a flirty gift or just friendly? What does it mean when your hot neighbour remembers a detail from a conversation and manages to turn that into an incredibly thoughtful gift overnight? Should he eat another muffin? Charlie gently leafed through the pages of the cookbook as if he could find the answers through stichomancy. What did it mean that it fell open to the recipe for muffins?

💚❤️💚❤️

Nick had hesitated to ring Charlie's doorbell, knowing he was hungover, but with the snow, the muffins would quickly turn into little frozen blocks. Daisy knew nothing about calendars, and insisted on going for her walk at the usual time. She was frolicking in the snow, licking flakes off her nose after burying it in the white fluff. After ringing a second time, Nick let himself be led away towards the park, occasionally glancing back. To his relief, a rumpled but gorgeous Charlie had opened the door and waved. Nick grinned and waved back, relieved that Charlie didn't seem upset after their strange almost-kiss the night before.

Then again, he hadn't opened the gift yet. Even though they were things Nick had in the house, was it too much? They had only just talked properly for the first time at the party. But when Charlie had talked about how his mother couldn't cook and he'd never learned but really wished he could do more than eggs and toast, Nick immediately knew what to give him. The apron had been a gift from Imogen that he never wore, preferring his well loved green Le Creuset apron. The book was one he had used when he first left home, especially while in the US and missing England. He had long since memorised his favourites, or had note cards of his version with different adjustments. But maybe it was too personal with all of the notes he had added over time. Was it too much? It was probably too much. Nick sighed. Daisy, sensing he was sad, came and nudged his hand to demand pets.

After letting Daisy play at the park for a while, Nick took her over to the coffee shop and picked up breakfast sandwiches and lattes to walk over to Tara and Darcy’s house. He adored living so close to his friends and knew they would be home and hungover. Darcy's family was no longer in contact, and Tara was working at the hospital in the afternoon. Bringing them food and caffeine was the best gift he could give them.

As expected, it was Tara who answered the door.

“Oh, you lifesaver!” she said, spotting the coffees. “Darcy is a little rough this morning.”

Nick unhooked Daisy's lead. “She got caroling drunk last night, I'm not surprised.”

“Speaking of caroling, did you and Charlie have a nice time while we were out of the way? He seems very nice,” said Tara.

Nick blushed and shrugged. “We had a good chat.”

Darcy appeared, drawn by the siren scent of coffee. “Saint Nick is here with gifts for Christmas! Gimme!” She reached out with grabby hands.

He laughed and handed the cup over.

“Did you manage to snog the hottie next door?” Darcy asked. “I tried to make a moment for you.”

“I think we were about to kiss when you all came back in,” sighed Nick.

“And then we scared him off? Oh no! I knew we should have gone with mistletoe on a fishing pole!” Darcy looked genuinely distraught.

Tara patted her wife's arm. “That wouldn't have worked.”

“But true love's first kiss!” said Darcy.

“I knew I shouldn't have signed up for Disney Plus,” said Tara.

“It's ok guys, I'm just being too much again,” said Nick.

“Nicholas Luke Nelson, you are not too much,” said Darcy. “You just believe in fully celebrating things that bring you joy.”

Nick looked at his feet. “I might have left a gift on his doorstep this morning.”

“What did you give him?” asked Tara, biting into her sandwich.

“An apron and a cookbook,” said Nick. “We talked about food and how he's always wanted to learn to cook and how impressed he was that I'd made everything.”

“He should date you and you can cook for him!” said Darcy.

“He's out of my league anyway,” Nick mumbled around a mouthful of bacon.

Tara and Darcy looked at each other, and silently pointed at a large jar on the counter.

“No self-deprecating comments in this house,” said Tara.

Nick dropped a coin in the jar with an eye roll.

“I spent too much time talking about my ex,” he said.

“It wasn't a date,” said Darcy. “You were allowed.”

“It's never going to be a date,” said Nick. “But at least my neighbour doesn't hate me anymore.”

“Did you warn him about your May Day display?” teased Tara.

“I bet Charlie would love to see Nick's maypole,” chortled Darcy.

“Oi!” Nick laughed at his friends’ teasing. “See if I bring you hangover presents again!”

“I take it all back!” said Darcy.

“Should we watch Muppet Christmas Carol before I have to go to work?” asked Tara.

Nick looked at Daisy, asleep next to their couch. “Sure!”

He and Daisy spent the next two hours at the flat, laughing and crying and singing badly (well, Nick attempted to sing) with Darcy and Tara. He felt the bubbly warmth of Christmas cheer in his chest, fighting away the grim loneliness that sought to take hold. But the movie ended, and it was time for Tara to go to work, and Darcy to volunteer at the LGBTQ+ youth centre, so Nick and Daisy made their way back home.

He paused to look at his Christmas display, light snowflakes continuing to swirl in the air though there was little accumulation. He spotted a neighbourhood family out for a walk, kids too young to have been in his class yet, and smiled as they named all the reindeer excitedly. The bigger child declared if they were a reindeer, they would be Dasher, before attempting to bolt and being caught by their dad. He smiled at the joy his decorations brought, even as he wished to have a little Dasher of his own.

A car was parked in front of Charlie's house, and Nick could see lights on inside. Daisy nudged his hand, breaking his train of thought, and they went inside to warm up.

💚❤️💚❤️

Charlie ate a second muffin before going upstairs to shower and prepare for Tori and Michael. They really were some of the best muffins he'd ever had. Maybe Nick could teach him how to make them, as a friend. The more Charlie replayed the night before, the more he was convinced that Nick was just very kind, not interested in Charlie. It was for the best that he had run away instead of kissing the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life. He could use more friends so he'd have to settle. It seemed unlikely he was Nick's type, even if the man was bisexual.

He took extra time with his curls routine, enjoying the process of shaping each spring. Even though it was only Tori and Michael coming by, he picked a deep blue and black and white patterned jumper and black jeans instead of spending the day in joggers and a hoodie like he normally would. Working from home left a lot to be desired from his day to day fashion, but it was certainly comfortable. His place was reasonably clean, but an extra pass of hoovering and cleaning off his counter helped assuage the inner voice, which sounded an awful lot like Jane Spring, demanding everything be perfectly spotless before guests arrived. He didn't need to dust the closet shelves in the upstairs rooms guests would never enter, for example.

There was a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of Tori and Michael, who ignored the doorbell.

“Happy Christmas!” declared Michael as Charlie opened the door.

“Hooray. The annual gift giving event has arrived,” said Tori. Charlie smiled and hugged them both.

Tori and Michael had arrived bearing bags of food. The trio stayed far away from the traditional roast, instead using the day as an excuse to spend the time making their own sushi. It felt elaborate and special, but had absolutely no ties back to memories of holidays in Kent. Charlie had the bamboo rolling mats and cling film set out, and the big mixing bowl for rice. Michael had stopped at the good fishmonger to pick up sushi grade tuna and salmon, and brought along his fancy knife that he was gifted the year prior.

As Michael unpacked everything, Tori examined Charlie.

“You look… happy,” she said.

“It is Christmas,” said Charlie.

Michael handed Tori a diet lemonade as she stared Charlie down.

“What? I'm allowed to be happy,” said Charlie.

“But why are you happy?” asked Tori.

“No reason,” said Charlie.

“This is a neat new apron!” called Michael from the kitchen. “Can I borrow it while I rinse the rice?”

Charlie avoided his sister's silent question. “Sure, you can use it.”

Charlie looked around, the slurping of lemonade through a straw grating on his nerves. Tori sat placidly waiting. Her interrogation techniques would break stronger men than Charlie. The eye contact, the silence disrupted with sound at irregular intervals, the aura of judgment.

“Fine, I went to the neighbour’s party last night and had a lovely time and he's bi and there were muffins and a gift on my step this morning based on a conversation we had last night,” blurted Charlie.

Tori silently raised an eyebrow. Michael was humming in the kitchen, water running.

“Nothing happened, we just talked,” said Charlie.

“Just?” asked Tori.

“Yes,” sighed Charlie. “Just.”

“Do you want something more?”

“I don't know, maybe? He's hot and nice, even if he's a little obsessive about Christmas.”

Tori snorted. “A little?”

“Ok, incredibly obsessive. But in a cute way. He just wants to make people smile.”

“Gross.”

“That's adorable,” chimed in Michael. “Do you liiiiike him?”

“I mean, he's gorgeous and funny and nice, but totally out of my league. He probably almost kissed me only because of the mulled wine last night,” said Charlie.

Tori gave him a steely glare. “Three compliments about yourself now.”

“Ugh, do I have to?” whined Charlie.

“Yes.”

“Fine. I have nice hair, an impressive vocabulary, and good taste in shoes,” said Charlie.

“Now back to this almost kiss,” said Michael, plopping on the couch.

“I was drunk, I probably just imagined it,” said Charlie. “Everybody else went out caroling and it was just us and we were talking and there was this… moment, but then the other people came back and I ran away before drunk Charlie could try to ruin my life again.” Charlie looked down at his hands sadly. “It's probably better that way. It's easier being single.”

“Easier isn't the same as better,” said Tori. “Did you want to kiss him?”

“Obviously. But only if he wants that. It's one thing to want to be friendly with your neighbour, even if he's a Scrooge who decapitates reindeer, it's a very different thing to want to snog them!”

Tori and Michael looked at each other, having one of those secret silent couples conversations. They could hear the door shut and a soft barking next door.

“Invite him for sushi,” said Tori.

“What?” Charlie looked at his antisocial sister in confusion.

“You've been talking about him since you moved in. Do you think someone that obsessed with Christmas wants to be home alone with his dog?” she said.

“Fine, I'll invite him,” said Charlie.

“But snog him first!” called Michael as Charlie opened his door.

💚❤️💚❤️

Nick toweled off Daisy's feet, contemplating if he should buy her little booties. Then again, it didn't get cold enough to snow all that often. A white Christmas was truly a treat here, no matter what the Doctor Who Christmas specials made it look like. He checked his watch. His mum and siblings were probably done opening gifts and in the middle of preparing Christmas lunch. Sarah adored being a grandmother, and made sure to involve the kids in traditions, and let them help her in the kitchen. He wondered if David's kids liked baking more than their father ever did.

Nick hung up his coat and put on the kettle. Despite his efforts to fill his holidays with friends and activities, he had reached the inevitable lull in the day where he was reminded that he was alone. Well, except for Daisy, who loudly drank her water.

The doorbell rang, startling Nick.

He'd already seen Tara and Darcy, everyone else had plans with family, and there weren't any deliveries on Christmas. Who could it be?

Opening the door, his breath caught. Charlie was standing there, looking absolutely stunning in an elegant blue jumper.

“Hi,” said Nick, suddenly aware of his own outfit of grey joggers and a red hoodie, chosen for comfort rather than looks.

“Hi,” said Charlie. There was a pause as Charlie looked down at Nick's lips. Nick waited hopefully.

“Do you want to come in?” Nick asked.

“Um, I was actually going to ask if you wanted to come over to mine. We're making sushi.”

“We?”

“My sister and her person and me,” said Charlie. “You don't have to, but you mentioned last night it was just you today and Michael always buys too much and you gave me that really thoughtful present and I didn't get you anything…”

Nick grinned. “I'd love to come over. Let me pop some shoes on and get Daisy settled. Wait just a second.”

Nick dashed inside to fill Daisy's bowl, grabbing a platter of cookies from the counter before stepping into his well worn Vans. For some reason, Charlie was looking up and giggling.

“What? What's up?” asked Nick.

Charlie pointed above Nick's doorway, where green leaves and white berries hung along with a small card attached. Nick reached up to grab the card.

Just in case someone stops by. Sorry for interrupting you last night!

-D

“Meddlesome lesbians,” grumbled Nick.

“It's ok, I know you don't really want to kiss me,” said Charlie.

“Um, what?” Nick looked at Charlie, confused. “I recall you ran away from me last night.”

“Because drunk Charlie has a history of misreading signals and ruining everything.”

“Well… um…” Nick was sure his face was the same colour as his hoodie by now. “If you thought I wanted to kiss you, you definitely read that correctly. Signals, that is. Want. Kissing. Yep. But it's ok if you…”

Nick was interrupted from further rambling by Charlie's lips pressed firmly against his, a fire burning through Nick's veins despite the chill air. He dropped the card and pulled Charlie closer, desperate to show this was not a perfunctory peck for parasitic plants. When they finally broke apart, panting, Nick was sure he never wanted to kiss anyone else again.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

🎄❤️🎄💚🎄💛🎄💙🎄

The Following November

“You have to wait until next weekend, Nick. That was the compromise. You can still do all of your decorations, but not until the second weekend in November, and it's only that early because you tricked me when Darcy made us play Truth or Dare for your birthday.”

“But Charlie,” whined Nick, “the weather is perfect this weekend and it's supposed to be wet and rainy all next week. Wouldn't you rather have me climbing ladders and scaffolding when it's sunny and dry? It's much safer.”

“It's too early, and weather forecasts are not to be trusted ten days out,” said Charlie, folding his arms sternly.

After several months of dating, more and more of Charlie's things had drifted next door, until Charlie returned to his own place only for work. When his contract renewal rolled around in September, they decided to formally move in together, rearranging the guest bedroom to more effectively serve as Charlie's office, as well as finding him a co-working space for the times he needed to work without Daisy distracting him. She mostly sat by his feet and snored, clearly happy to have Charlie around.

“What if I put up everything except Santa's sleigh and reindeer?” bargained Nick.

Charlie looked at his boyfriend's adorable pout and puppy eyes and felt himself crack under the pressure. “Fine. You can do all the roof lights and decorations, but ground things and the reindeer have to wait. And you can make choux reindeer for the Christmas Eve party. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Nick with a grin. “Kiss on it?”

“It's supposed to be ‘shake on it’,” said Charlie.

“Just a suggestion, we don't have to.” Nick turned to walk away, but Charlie grabbed his wrist.

“No, it's a good suggestion,” said Charlie, pulling Nick in for a kiss just as toe curling as their very first. “We need to kiss as often as possible.”

“I've still got that mistletoe somewhere,” said Nick.

“I'll put your mistletoe somewhere,” teased Charlie with a fiery look in his eyes.

Distracted from the possibilities of decorating, Nick and Charlie raced to the bedroom. It was only November 5th. There was plenty of time to get Christmas lights up later.