A Collection of Heartstopper Oneshots

comfort me - KumquatforSappho

Summary:

Nick gets a special visitor in the post.
Notes:

Hi! I love stuffies a lot and it's honestly a miracle that I haven't written any sentimental and soft fics featuring Kitty until now. But I suppose the Q&A inspired me there, where Charlie and Kitty's history is depicted from when he's born until he's 19. It's very sweet, and it made me realise that although Charlie has Nick's clothes to alleviate some of the long distance pain with, Nick doesn't have that option. Thus, this wee story was born!

CW: allusions to Charlie's mental health issues, references to sexual content
Work Text:
The first time Nick had been introduced to Kitty, it had been through a series of flustered, adorable string of sentences which he coaxed out of Charlie after picking her up.

Just as soon as he said, "Who is this?", Charlie snatched her from his arms and exclaimed, "No one!"

"They're not just no one if they sleep next to you," Nick then said and nudged Charlie with his shoulder.

That only made Charlie's face even redder. But soon enough details emerged and Nick slowly but surely got to see how important she was to his boyfriend. Especially after Charlie's mental health took a nosedive and Nick often slept over following his stay at inpatient. Granted, Kitty mostly remained pressed against Charlie's chest at the time, but that didn't make him any less grateful for the comfort she brought his boyfriend.

Once, when he was feeling particularly sentimental, Nick brushed a stray lock of hair out of Charlie's face while he was sound asleep, ensconced by warring fluorescence and moonlight, and whispered to the stuffie, "Thank you for looking out for him when I can't be here."

This prompted Charlie to murmur in his sleep and roll over.

One could say they got better acquainted when Nick started staying over for other reasons, but that included inadvertently punting her in throes of passion or squashing her with his back before exiling her off the bed all the same. He'd even apologised to her once for the sights which must have no doubt corrupted her innocent, guileless mind, which made Charlie snort and call him a dork.

"You got so cross when I stepped on her once!" Nick replied.

"That's different," Charlie said and tucked his knees up to his chest and pressed the feline against his lips. "She's old. We need to take good care of her."

"I did say I was sorry!"

Considering she had been with Charlie since birth, she was still in surprisingly good shape. Hearing just how long she had been around made Nick think of the little dog stuffie nana Rose gave him when he was little. He dragged poor Spot through mud and rain, made him keeper when David didn't want to play football with him, even fed him ice cream once. It was a miracle he lasted even a few months into Nellie's teething phase. Perhaps being pet-free formed ideal conditions for stuffies to thrive—a silver lining to Jane Spring's neat-freak regime of terror.

In fact, she'd survived all the way into Charlie moving away for uni and sat prim and proper next to his pillow when he snapped a picture for Nick to look at once he finished arranging his cramped room. Now covered wall to ceiling in posters, books bulging from a shelf.

Whenever Nick comes to visit nowadays, he often finds himself in one of two situations when he wakes up: arm slung around Charlie, nuzzling into his chest, or cuddled up against Kitty. The first time it happened, Charlie smiled down at him with that fond, amused look on his face which told Nick he's about to be a little shit, but said nothing.

The second time, he asked why Nick didn't just get a stuffie of his own to snuggle when he feels particularly cuddly or touch starved.

"They wouldn't smell like you," Nick replied and buried his face in orange plush to hide the shame.

But Charlie, being the lovely, understanding person he is, said nothing and instead gave Nick a hug. 'You have nothing to be ashamed of here,' it told Nick.

And sure, it's usually Charlie who steals Nick's clothes and whinges about how they stopped smelling like Nick and that they need to be swapped out for freshly scented ones whenever they arrange visits, but Nick isn't immune to luxuriating in boyfriend smells. No, on the contrary, he never sleeps better (on his own anyway) than after Charlie has visited and the sheets carry with them notes of coconut, almond, tea tree, and that je-ne-sais-quo'arlie aroma underneath it all.

But it's not like he can force himself into Charlie's clothes. Most of them are far too small. He tried—once. That incident wound up costing a few quid to replace the damaged shorts: lesson learned.

Being unable to replenish his Charlie-time reservoir during exam season has made Nick's frazzled brain a touch more frazzled than usual. And Charlie must have noticed during one of their weeknight video calls, because come Tuesday the following week, his flatmate Jalal shouts mid-revision that he's got a package.

Nestled within lies a familiar, round friend smiling up at him, alongside an envelope and a Dairy Milk Oreo, pre-broken courtesy of the post. Within the former lies no letter, but a polaroid taken by Charlie of him and Nick snuggling, Kitty between the latter's arms.

'She'll look out for you when I can't be there xx'. No signature.

Lump in his throat, he clomps back to his room and FaceTimes Charlie. Before he cries, dammit!

"Hey!" Charlie grins at him from the other end, eyes bright and hair fluttering as he walks. "I take it you got my package!"

"Char!" Nick tries to say more, but winds up uttering garbled nonsense while pressing his face against Kitty. Coconut and tea tree.

Charlie only chuckles and the light changes around him. He looks to be in the underground.

"I-I can't accept her!" Nick eventually manages to say. "She's yours. She's been with you for so long."

However, Charlie only shushes him and says, "Think of it as me saying: 'Shut up, I'm trying to confess my love to you'. And it's not foreve—"

Then, he cuts out. Blasted lack of signal on the tube. Nonetheless, Nick keeps gazing at the frozen frame of Charlie, half-caught in the dark, one eye partly closed in an unflattering display, and feels impossibly soft. Softer than even Kitty's fur beneath his fingers.

I'll take the best care of you until we don't have to be apart anymore.