A Collection of Heartstopper Oneshots

Sent Home Sick - moonstonesandfireworks (Part 2)

Chapter 2: Hot Showers and Yorkshire Tea

Notes:

Hello lovely people, I'm finally back with chapter two! Sorry this has taken an absolute age for me to write – uni has been taking up literally every single second of my life, really, really have been enjoying that. 😵💫 I'm not massively happy with the final instalment of this but its miles better than leaving it incomplete so here we are I guess haha.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, this fic has been a lovely (if not frustrating) one to write. Big love to all my fave writers on here for the inspo, but particular big love to glaspen whose fic 'My Lover is Sleeping, gave me the final push to finish this WIP off! Check it out if you haven't read it, it's gorgeous.

Anyway enough rambling! See you on the flip side 🕺
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text
Charlie lay next to Nick until he was sure he was asleep (and then a little bit after that just to be safe) before wriggling out from under him to locate his laptop. He reasoned he may as well get some work done; it would at least prevent him doom scrolling until his eyes were sore and that vaguely numb feeling took hold of his brain.

He sat nestled in the bed next to his poorly boyfriend, one hand stroking idly through Nick's hair, one balancing his laptop precariously in his lap, the duvet bunched up around them in soft folds. Light speckled the bedspread with late afternoon glow, fighting its way through the gaps in the half closed curtains, providing just enough light for Charlie to see the keys. He tapped away quietly at his laptop as Nick slept, finishing the final edits of a manuscript for a slightly trashy murder mystery novel the publishing house he worked for was putting out next year, quietly commending himself for managing to get some work done on a day hed been convinced would be a write off mere hours ago.

Despite the less than ideal circumstances, Charlie felt truly at ease in the quiet calm, there was no one else he would rather be suck in a slightly stuffy room with on a random Thursday.

Nick, on the other hand, was clearly having much less of a nice, cosy time. He slept fitfully, tossing and turning, trapped in the purgatory that is the space between conciseness and sleep. His cheeks were flushed, two pink circles standing out against the pallor, clearly indicating the earlier dose of ibuprofen had done nothing for his fever.

He woke exactly one edited manuscript and half an episode of Sherlock later, pushing himself up, clearly disorientated and squinting at the dim light peeking in through the curtains.

'Hello sleepy, how are you feeling?' Charlie whispered, pausing Benedict Cumberbatch mid monologue and reaching over to push Nick's hair off of his sweaty forehead, surreptitiously also feeling for a temperature.

Nick groaned but said nothing, instead shuffling closer to his boyfriend, plopping his head into his lap, and hitting play on the episode Charlie had been watching. Charlie chuckled softly, pressing an arm over his shoulders comfortingly, letting the episode play out and giving Nick some time to wake up a bit.

When the episode credits began to run, Nick rolled onto his back, coughing, and drawing an arm up to rest across his eyebrows. Charlie shut his laptop and put it down onto the floor next to the bed.

'Take it you're still feeling rubbish?'

Nick rubbed a hand over his eyes, 'actually think I'm feeling worse', he mumbled, his voice coming out strained and hoarse, causing Charlie to wince in sympathy.

'You poor thing'. Charlie pressed cool fingers across Nick's forehead, frowning at the heat he was met with. 'I'm going to go get you some paracetamol, you're feeling a bit warm darling. Want anything else from downstairs?'