first... [n alves]

synopsis: first time coming over.

note: i think i'm still in the angst headspace because this is defintely not as fluffy as i intended it to be, but i think it provides a good look inside N's head that i haven't really been able to showcase so... you win some and you lose some. the ending is cute at least? (don't kill me)

N is far from a control freak. Compared to some of their coworkers, they'd say they're quite laidback. It doesn't stress them out when someone touches their traps or when their favourite mat in the training room is occupied (this has pissed Blane off more than once), for example.

There is a level of control that they desire though. It took them a while to understand it, but they'd describe it as feeling obligated to burden responsibilities, especially if they aren't theirs.

It's most obvious in the first few times you came over to theirs. They'd been a bundle of nerves, serving more food and drinks than two people could eat. They'd bring you blankets if you so much as twitched and offer spare pillows each time you shifted your position.

Needless to say, it took a while for them to relax. As the weeks went by, they slowly began to understand that you didn't need five drink options and the choice to pick a movie every week (even if they felt bad about taking that away). That you came over simply because you enjoyed N's presence. That N was enough.

And while they have their off days, N knows this is true.

It's when they come over to yours that this is truly put to the test. With no control over anything, N has to force themself to sit back and let you be the host for once. You're as flustered as they initially were, embarrassed over accidentally tipping a cup over and the mess in your living room that you swear you meant to clean.

N quickly understands why you looked so amused those first few times.

"How much ice do you want in your water?" you call.

"Doesn't matter. Half the glass, maybe?"

You enter the living room holding two cups, both plastic again in case one of you knocks it over. N accepts theirs gratefully, your fingers brushing as they reach forward. They bite their lip, sending you a smirk as you roll your eyes over the obvious and purposeful gesture.

"I could've spilt that, you know?" you scold.

"Then I would've gotten to borrow some of your clothes," N answers easily. They lean back, taking a sip as you quickly avert your eyes. "Or maybe I could've used that as an excuse to get you to come over to my place again. Radar misses me."

"Radar's with Blane. I'm sure he's having the time of his life."

"Knocking over all their plants, sure."

You hide your smile behind a hand. "Radar's fine. You're fine. What's so bad about my place that you don't want to stay here, hmm?"

It's nothing, of course. You know as well as N does that they adore your place. The IKEA sofa and ancient-looking curtains left from the last tenant, the creaky floorboard and the sideways-facing toilet in the guest bathroom. They adore it here. In many ways, it's their second home.

But it's strange for them to not have any responsibilities. It's odd that their hands aren't moving, that their mind isn't thinking of how to make dinner or where all their spare toiletries are in case you stay the night. Once upon a time, they'd also be stressing themself out hoping you wouldn't leave too early, but those days are long gone.

"You know that's not it," N whispers.

You shuffle closer. Eyes asking for permission, you slowly place your hand on theirs, your thumb moving in slow circles against their wrist. N feels the pressure from their shoulders lift and some of their anxiety fall into an abyss.

"Then?"

They hesitate. "Just nervous. I've never stayed over before."

"Does it stress you out that you're relaxing?"

"… It sounds bad when you put it that way."

You laugh. "Because it is kind of bad. It's unhealthy to think that way. [A] suffers from the same problem."

"Funny how you got stuck with both of us then, huh?"

"No. I'm extremely lucky to have you both in my life. You especially." You press your forehead to theirs. "Let me take care of you. Let me take care of things tonight."

N exhales, breathing you in. They don't dare open their eyes but merely twist your hands so that they're clasped together, squeezing once, twice. Then, without warning, they tackle you into a hug. A noise of surprise escapes your mouth as you tumble backwards, barely managing to stay on the couch.

But surprise turns into laughter and soon the both of you are giggling, N's face pressed into the crook of your neck and your face in theirs.

"Thank you. You always do," N tells you.

"Of course," you breathe back.

They don't doubt you for a second.