Chapter Text
It was dumb, really. The only thing Che had to do was to snap pictures of his pages to have them with him at all times; or even just straight up write directly on his phone. But he loved the old-fashioned feeling of handwriting, it somewhat made him feel more inspired, and he was also excellent at forgetting his notes everywhere.
And now, they had this very important meeting tomorrow, and it didn’t have them, and it made him feel like a million bugs were crawling under his skin. Che knew that he could be obsessive about his sketches, especially in very busy periods when everything piled up and he had to focus on many things at the same time. And he would write the most perfect thing; then leave the paper somewhere. Like this time, at the apartment of the white idiot with bright eyes. The very handsome, charming idiot with bright eyes he was working very closely with.
Going to Colin’s place to write was relaxing, most of the time, when the guy was not distracting him by making him laugh his ass off until they were both doing everything but work. Even this, he had found out, would actually help in the writing by taking away some of the pressure and trying some jokes raw just between them.
Well, Che had to get his paper now. He tried calling Colin; he was not answering. Weird, it was not that late. He tried texting him.
MC to Island of Garbage Dumbass:
Hey, Jost. You there? I need my paper. I forgot it on your desk, ya know, the very cool one about our next skit!!
Che added an imploring emoji, the one with the puppy eyes, followed by a disappearing one. It always made Colin laugh.
MC to Island of Garbage Dumbass:
Dude! I need it, c’moooon. Don’t tell me you’re sleeping at what, eight? You old lady.
Usually, Colin always replied quickly, especially, if he was at home. To him more than to the others, he had heard their other colleagues complain about his slow replies. He would never make Che wait more than a few minutes. This made his stomach flutter, for some reason. Maybe then, it meant that he was not at home?
Che grabbed his set of keys, looking pensively at one in particular. Colin had given him a duplicate of his apartment’s key in case of emergency. Could this count as an emergency? He was not sure. Probably not.
Che shrugged and still decided to go. He would knock, wait, listen at the door, be careful, and if visibly no one was there, there’d be no harm in just quickly grabbing his paper. He was sure Colin wouldn’t mind.
He made it there quickly, and indeed, it seemed empty. No matter how much he banged, no sign of life. Che unlocked the door, and stepped in, and oh… there seemed to be like, one lamp open, at the end of the corridor? Probably left open by Colin, it would be like him. Once when he was drunk out of his mind he had told Che how much he disliked coming back to a cold and dark place, and it had made Che’s heart squeeze in his chest -
But, when he walked into the living room, he almost had a heart attack, because Colin was very much there. Sitting on the sofa, eyes closed, his feet resting on a pillow, wearing AirPods and… and… woah, that was a lot of fabric. And very beautiful. Che blinked, his brain struggling to process the image of Colin Jost wearing a luxurious, baby blue nightgown with a lot of silk and ruffles, and delicate embroideries on the sleeves. There was velvet around the folds where the fabric opened, and it looked so damn comfortable, and Colin looked so at peace. His hair was in a mess, he had a content smile on his lips, looking more relaxed than Che had ever seen him. This made him feel moved, and he contemplated the view for a few seconds, admiring how the golden lamp was making the nightgown shine on Colin’s broad shoulders, when it suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks that he had not been allowed under any circumstances to be a witness to this. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Che tried to back down silently, forgetting everything about the paper and regretting intensely that he had even stepped in uninvited, but it was too late, Colin’s eyes shut open, and he was feeling even more regret. There was a microsecond of confusion, then sheer panic struck Colin’s face. It was not the fake, funny panic that they’d play when reading each other’s jokes, it was real fear, and Colin had never looked at him like this, and Che hated it.
"What the fuck, Che! What the fuck are you doing here?"
Colin tore an airpod away from his ear, his hand shaking, his voice raspy. Colin had also never yelled at him before, not like this.
"The door was locked! You…"
"I… I’m sorry, Colin," Che forced himself to answer, his mouth dry. "I… you had given me the key…"
"It was for emergencies! I had trusted you to respect me, I’m… fuck, I’m in my private space, dude!"
His voice had broken on the last word. He looked so betrayed, his composure completely gone, looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Che hated himself for putting him in that state, and even more for the fact that he still couldn’t take his eyes away, even now. Because of Colin’s startle, the nightgown had slipped, revealing a pale shoulder and a thin strap on it and… lace, covering his friend’s chest like a translucent butterfly wing. Che’s heart was beating so hard that he felt it in all of his body, and he opened his mouth, unable to answer anything.
Colin looked even more devastated, pulling roughly on the fabric to hide himself. "Fuck!"
And Che finally lowered his eyes. Shit. I’m a terrible person.
"I’m going, I’m…. I’m gonna go change," whispered Colin, getting up and running away to his bedroom. Che desperately wanted to comfort him about this, but maybe he had so totally fucked up that now things would always be awkward between them, and Colin would never forgive him. And as usual, the dark voice in the back of his mind was telling him that this is exactly what would happen, that he always fucked something up with people, and that they would all leave. Che took a long inspiration. He needed to stay focused, maybe there was something he could fix.
Colin came out of his room a moment later, this time dressed in plain beige pyjamas, looking still incredibly distressed and restless, seeming unable to meet his eyes.
"I’m… I’m sorry. I should not have yelled at you…"
"Nah, this is 100% on me. I’m so damn sorry, Colin. You’re right, I’ve intruded, and I shouldn’t have."
"It’s just… fuck, I’m paranoid about this. You know what it would do if paparazzis ever got to take pictures of me wearing that…"
"I know."
Colin was still not looking at him, and he was flushed. Once again, not the good, happy flush of when he was laughing or embarrassed at something in a light way, but the red of deep shame and he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. No matter how unsettled the whole deal made Che feel, he had to say something to make it better. But before he could say anything, Colin started to talk again, his voice sounding as though he was holding back tears.
"Listen, it’s… it’s important for me to do this, and I know you may not understand, and that’s okay, but there are a lot of things I don’t mind being made fun of for and this isn’t one of them, I… I need to do this, I like it, it feels soft. It feels like, when I do it I can break away from that image, and then I only belong to myself, and… and… then you barge in, and now, you might tell others, or write jokes about it -"
"Hey, hey! Woah!" interrupted Che, raising his hands in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "You really think I’d do that?"
"I don’t know, Che. I’m sorry," Colin replied, hiding his face and his hands, and Che shook his head, walked across the room.
"Can I hug you, man? Please."
Colin was big on hugs, and even if Che didn’t know exactly what to say, he knew the hug would help. If he even wanted physical contact from him now, that being said. Colin gave the smallest, quickest look at Che, looking unsure, as though there was still a possibility he was being pranked and Che would end up making fun of him. He gave him a confident smile, and opened his arms, and Colin opened his and hugged him tight. Che let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding, embracing his friend’s shivering shape with equal strength.
"You don’t have to be afraid of stuff like that happening. I won’t ever tell anyone a private thing of yours, and I ain’t gonna write about it in our skits. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I never wrote anything that was about your personal stuff, isn’t? I didn’t. I hope."
"No, you did not. I told you, I’m just paranoid."
"And I understand this," Che whispered. "I truly do, I’ve got things of my own I would not like being made public. And as for understanding you… I get it. Okay yeah, like, I was not expecting this to be something you would like to do, but it’s fine if it’s the case. I understand your need to break away from the Mr. Perfect narrative and I know you are not this, you’re way too much of a nerd…"
Colin gave a sad chuckle, and nodded on his Che’s shoulder, still saying nothing. Che kept going, patting his back: "And I don’t see you as a lesser man for liking that. It’s all subjective to culture anyway, right? It used to be the norm in Europe for rich dudes to cover themselves in silk and lace and it wasn’t seen as unmanly or degrading back then. You’re the one with the History and Literature Harvard degree, Mister. You should know this with that big brain of yours."
"I know, but… you… you never know who will judge or not. Thank you, Michael."
Colin looked considerably calmer now, he wasn’t all flushed and panicked anymore. He was able to look at Che in the eyes, and this felt way better. "Seriously, thank you. I’m grateful for the way you are."
"No problem, man! And I apologize again for, you know, intruding."
"It’s okay. Now that I can think clearly… If there’s anyone on Earth I’d be fine with seeing me like this, it’d be you. You’re very intelligent, Michael."
Colin looked exhausted, and like he was forcing himself to connect two thoughts. A wave of warmth crashed in Che’s stomach hearing his words. Turns out, Colin hadn’t decided that he was someone not to trust, and even better, among all the potential people around, it was him he liked the most for such a vulnerable display. Che’s head even felt kinda dizzy.
"Thank you, thank you. Now, I think you need to rest. Imma just gonna grab my paper, okay? The reason I barged in to start with…"
"Oh! Yeah. Yeah, sure."
Che went to the desk and found his sheet, giving it one last read to make sure it was as perfect as when he left it. It was.
"Okay, hm… Well, I’ll be on my way, Colin. See ya tomorrow?"
"Yes, Che. See you, good night."
"Night night."
As soon as he was on the other side of the door, Che bit his lips, his feelings finally coming down like a storm in his head. He knew that no matter how much he tried, there was no way he could take this image out of his head now. Things seemed… not exactly back to normal yet with Colin, still a bit awkward, but that was probably justified.
Damn, did he look fine in that nightgown.
Che didn’t know exactly if it was still okay for him to go hang out at Colin’s place so soon, but Colin invited him over just four days after the incident. He had ordered pizza, and wanted to work on the skits, or watch some very dumb Netflix movie. Given that they were both exhausted by a week of meetings, it would probably be the latter.
When he arrived at Colin’s apartment, the pizza was in the oven and it smelled delicious. Colin gave him a big smile, and they settled on the couch, eating enthusiastically in front of a documentary about penguins. Colin liked these things. There was still this bit of strangeness between them, but it was not that bad. Che just felt good to be in his presence, to steal quick glances at his beautiful, cheerful eyes, and that elegant nose, and that…
"Che?"
"Yeah?"
"Oh, I thought you wanted to say something. You were looking at me."
"Oh! Huh, yeah, I was gonna say, you look kinda cold, man."
"Yes," agreed Colin, hugging himself with an adorable, disappointed look, as if the room temperature had personally let him down. "I’m cold."
"D’you want a blanket, or d’you want, hm…"
A moment of silence. It was okay to propose it, right? Colin had said that of all people, he was fine with him seeing him this way, and Colin deserved to be able to be comfortable. This had nothing to do with Che’s selfish interest in seeing him look amazing again. Nothing at all. Che pushed through the embarrassment he felt, spitting it out: "You can wear it, if you want. I… I want you to feel like, able to be yourself around me. If you’d like. Yeah."
"Really?"
Colin looked incredulous, staring at him with that unsure look, and God, Che wanted to hug him again. Or take him by the shoulders and shake him.
"You truly don’t think it’s weird? That I… that I’m weird?" Colin asked softly, and Che’s heart broke a little.
"Noooo, man! Don’t ya remember anything of what I said a few days ago? Europe, velvet and lace, getting your need to break free from your image… I’m your best friend! I don’t think you’re weird."
"Thank you, Michael. Hm… I’ve got many of them. Do you wanna come help me choose, then?"
Damn, this man will be the death of me. He has no right to look that sweet.
"Yep, sure!"
His heart definitely beat too fast. It felt so strangely intimate, as he walked into Colin’s bedroom, and like an immense honour to be allowed to see more of this side of him. Colin looked nervous, and Che just wanted to smooth these frown lines with his thumb. Colin opened his closet, and then pulled on the curtain concealing a large compartment. There, fluffy nightgowns of all colours were hanging.
"Damn! Holy consumerism," smiled Che, feeling like a bit of humour would help his friend. "Did you know that if you had just shown me that out of the blue, I would just have assumed you use them to have orgies at your place with I don’t know how many women?"
"Very aware, Che," Colin replied with a fake annoyed tone. He was smiling as well. "One of the reasons why I hide them."
"You got one for all occasions. Red for Christmas, orange for Halloween, blue for when you’re depressed… Hey! Can’t help but notice you have almost all colours on Earth, except a black nightgown. I’m kind of offended."
Colin shook his head, smiling from ear to ear this time. Che felt a little smug, and sorted through the nightgowns, getting out a long, white one.
"Annnnd there you go, I knew it, the KKK nightgo-"
"Shut up," chuckled Colin, pushing it back, and Che made a noise of exaggerated disbelief.
"Come out of the closet already, Jost! The proofs are there!"
Before he had the time to panic over the potential double meaning of what he had just said, Colin bit back, looking smug: "I’m not the one who voted for Trump, right? You should wear the KKK nightgown."
"Aaah, touché, I’ll forever be ashamed for that. WAIT, it means you admit it’s what it is!"
Colin shoved his hand in his face, and this felt normal, like such an everyday routine, even though they were in front of something like a dozen frilly dresses that a few days ago he could never for the life of him even have pictured Colin wearing. Not that he was going to complain now. And he got to help him pick too? Wow.
"The lavender one," Che singled out, taking it off the rack. "It looks warm."
"Ah, you’re right. Alright, I’m feeling it," agreed Colin, grabbing the pretty, silky thing. But Che was still curious, he just didn’t know how to ask, and if he should ask.
"Hm, last time, you… you were also wearing…"
"Oh, yeah." Colin looked embarrassed again. "Yeah, in the drawers I’ve got stuff to match them, but most of the time I just wear the nightgown."
"Yep, looks like the most comfortable part," Che awkwardly replied, cursing himself for even mentioning the… the lingerie. Fuck, what was wrong with him? No matter how badly he wanted to see Colin in this again, he had no right to push it on him.
"Okay, I’ll… let you change, I’m gonna go make popcorn."
Let him change? What are we, pre-teen girls? Wow, real smooth there, Che.
And Colin probably didn’t even have popcorn at home.
Turns out, Colin did have popcorn at home - salted caramel popcorn at that, freshly brought at some homemade place. So, Che didn’t actually need to make anything, and just stood awkwardly in the kitchen, not knowing if he should make two bowls or if they would eat straight from the bag. This whole thing was messing with his head, rendering him unable to make simple decisions.
He turned his head hearing Colin’s bedroom door open, and controlled himself not to show too much of a reaction to the view. His fist just closed fiercely around the popcorn bag.
Yep, lavender really was his colour. It made him shine, and that night gown had a fucking train, dragging on the floor behind him as he walked. Colin looked both like a prince and like he just came out of some reality way better than the actual royalty. It was something.
Best not to comment too much though, Che guessed as he just came back on the sofa as if everything was like usual. Colin still looked a bit self-conscious and flushed and insisting too much on his appearance might make him uncomfortable.
So, on with the documentary about penguins again. But Che really wasn’t watching that much, more like blankly staring at the screen while being hyper conscious of each of Colin’s little movements and sounds. He could feel that his muscles were still tense, that he was not truly relaxing. They both ate popcorn from the bag.
"It looks so comfy," Che finally said at a point in the documentary where the sound was quite low, not bearing the silence anymore.
"It is. It’s like there’s a warm sock all over your body. A giant, oversized sock."
Che let out a laugh. "Can I touch it? Just curious."
"Yeah, sure."
Che caressed a piece of the nightgown, where there was a soft lavender ruffle. "Damn, I want some."
Colin just smiled and threw the side of the gown on Che’s lap. There was so much fabric that it covered all of it, and Che could help but caress it again.
Ah, fuck it.
"Can I put my arm around your shoulders, bro? I’m cold too."
"Of course, Michael."
There was something in the way Colin said his name that made Che want to kick his feet, and gosh, that was ridiculous. He could actually feel himself blush. He laid his arm around Colin, pressing his hand on his shoulder, and instead of staying in place, Colin leaned on him, and let his head rest on his side. Wow, okay. And, only then, when Che’s mouth was a bit open in disbelief, did he feel the man relax completely, letting out a happy sigh and crossing his arms. Colin closed his eyes, and Che just looked at him, his long eyelashes and the calm of his expression.
"Hmmm. You feel nice, Che," muttered Colin in a tired voice. "And you smell like vanilla."
"I do?" Che snorted, an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah. Wait, no. It’s me." Colin frowned, pulling up his arm and smelling his nightgown. "Yeah, it’s me, it’s what I wash these with. Soft vanilla soap. But you smell good too, Che."
"Well, thank you, mister Jost. You know, you sound as though you’re drunk even though you’re not," joked Che, trying once again to keep control of how moved he felt.
"I know. It’s ’cause I’m happy. This is my natural state, I just say whatever comes to my mind. Thank you, Michael, for letting me… for letting me be myself with you. This is like, very special to me. It’s the first time I let anyone in like that. I didn’t think anyone would, like… appreciate to see this side of me."
"Oh, Colin. This side of you already shows, and it’s in a good way," Che said softly, and Colin turned his head to look at him with wide blue eyes. "Kay’, maybe not at the full extent of what you show me tonight, but I mean, your softness, your sensitivity, they show, and they’re a big part of why people appreciate you."
"Hm. I think many of them still appreciate me more because of what I project to be, if that makes sense. Do I make sense? I don’t know."
"Yeah, you do. But I think people can tell you’re like this after they’ve known you for a while. And I…"
Che stopped himself, swallowing. Colin was looking at him eagerly, and he suddenly felt like chickening out. It was not natural for him to talk about these things so seriously. Come on, be vulnerable, he pressed himself. Colin has been saying so much, you can do it. And Che also wanted to do it.
"Listen Colin, I… When I first met you, I thought there was a high chance you’d end up being an asshole," he started, staring at his own hands. "You know, Staten Island, Harvard degree, the… hm. I… I mean…"
"Yeah, I know. It’s okay, Michael," Colin encouraged him quietly.
"It’s the… you know, a guy like you… sometimes it’s hard for a guy like… like me to… Fuck! Why is it so easy to joke about and so hard to talk about seriously?"
Che was still staring at his hands, closing his fists in frustration and a familiar, dull pain. He took a deep breath when Colin gently rested a hand on his wrist, so gently that it felt like his fingers were feathers on his skin.
"Hey, we all have the time in the world. I’m honoured you open up to me."
Che nodded in acknowledgment, and then closed his eyes, trying to focus.
"What I’m trying to say is… You never know who will judge or not," he whispered, repeating Colin’s words from earlier. His friend tightened a bit his grasp on his wrist, and slowly, without even thinking, Che raised his other hand and put it on top of his.
"… Yeah. You never know. But then… Then, I learned to know you. And I discovered how much of a kind person you are. And that’s what I mean, about your soft side, your sensitive heart. This is what I truly appreciate in you, this is so much more important to me than the charisma of public persona Colin Jost. You genuinely care about others - above all of the comedy, when we’re alone together and we read the News, I can see the pain in your eyes. And you… you always find a way to make me talk when I need it, even when I struggle to. You want me to talk to you. Because you care about me. Because you are a sensitive, empathic guy. And then I feel safe, I feel free to be myself around you, like you’re doing with me now. So, Colin, I’m not doing you a favour. I’m only giving back what you gave me."
Che slowly raised his head to look at Colin. He had not dared do so during all of his little speech, and his heart sank at first when he saw the tears in the man’s eyes.
"Colin! You crying?"
"I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know why," stuttered Colin, and Che just opened his arms yet again and held him, pressing his face into his shoulder without holding back. He had a very good idea of why Colin was in tears, and even though his own eyes were dry, if he was honest with himself he felt like crying too.
And right a this moment, the documentary decided to make itself be heard again, and what had been a background voice of a muffled calm voice erupted in a thousand penguins all cackling at the same time.
"Fuckin’ penguins," Che cursed, letting go of Colin for one moment to clumsily grab the remote and make the little bitches shut up. Colin was now both sobbing and laughing at the same time, holding himself like Che had just told the best joke of all time. Che couldn’t help it and also started laughing for absolutely no reason, probably the nerves, and then they were both holding each other, and damn, Colin’s nose was runny, the man needed tissues to not stain the nightgown.
"Hahahahaha, man, Michael you’re the- hahahaha, you’re the best ever!"
"You’re flashing me with your bright teeth, Jost, I’ll get blind from watching you laugh."
That night, after Colin had blown his nose and his eyes were very red rimmed and still very emotional, Che decided to stay, after all, there was a second bedroom. They talked again, going back to normal after the roller-coaster, and in fact, Che felt that they were even more comfortable with each other than before. It’s as if a dam had been opened. But still, he forced himself not to caress, on his wrist, the area where Colin’s fingers had touched him oh so softly.
That night, in Colin’s guest room, Michael had a weird, heated dream. A dream of Colin, dressed from head to toes in the hottest, most transparent version of his fancy nightgowns. That one barely covered any skin, and revealed most parts of the lingerie set underneath. In that dream vision, Colin was wearing that bright red lipstick he had so flawlessly put on during one of their weekend updates, at Che’s initiative (he was too ashamed to even count the number of times he had touched himself rewatching this clip, it was kind of pathetic). Bright red lipstick, which Che now actually suspected he had used on himself many times before to be so good at applying it. And dream Colin was wearing high heels for some reason, because he had decided he absolutely had to give Che a heart attack in his sleep, and he slammed that heel on the door frame he was leaning on, lips parted in a smug smile.
"I’ve put on a black nightgown just for you, Michael. Wanna come take it off?"
Dream Colin winked, and stupid, stupid dream Che didn’t just run to him to mess up his lipstick, and decided instead to be cocky.
"I ain’t seeing no black nightgown Jost, this’ a dark brown nightgown."
"Well, you’re not BLACK black, Che. Just like I’m not WHITE white. I’m more pink right now, and that’s because of you."
"It’s a slutty shade of pink, if you want my opinion," laughed dream Che, and real Che wanted to bang his head against the wall. What was he doing?
"Oh, yeah? Maybe you’re just the one who sees dirty things everywhere, Che," whispered dream Colin. "I would not be surprised, given that you’re enough of a pervert to make me put on lipstick in a skit just so that you can jerk off to it later."
"I didn’t… It was not to… I was just…"
Yeah, dream Che’s line of defence was pretty weak, just as the real Che’s line, even when lying to himself.
"You’re such a chicken, Che," dream Colin sighed, sounding disappointed, but still smiling. He was walking through the room now, looking down at dream Che with a stare of iron. "Such a chicken, and you’ll be able to look at all the curves of the fruit, but never dare to pick it."
And suddenly, dream Colin was pushing him against the wall, holding him pinned. He looked hungry, and dream Che made a pitiful sound. "Why don’t you just say it, Michael? Say it, that you want to see me in lingerie. Say it, that I turn you on. Good men are honest. Aren’t you a good man?"
"Ah… Aaaaah!"
Dream Colin had just put his thigh between his legs, pressing on his hard cock, and dream Che couldn’t help but rock his hips, once, twice.
"Ah, and what does it say about you, Jost? You also never fucking try anything," he let out with a staggered breath. "You bad, bad man."
The confidence displayed by dream Colin was damn hot. He opposed only silence to dream Che’s reply, rubbing his thigh against his dick instead and kissing his neck, leaving red lipstick everywhere.
"Fuck, Colin! Let me take off my pants at least!"
"Why? If I’m such a bad man, I might just make you come in your pants."
"Okay, okay, I take it back! You’re not bad, please just get it out already…"
Dream Colin smiled. It was not a smile that announced good things. "No," he said, looking proud of himself, and Che let out a tortured moan. "Why… Why not?"
Without answering right away, Dream Colin removed his thigh, and pulled back, letting dream Che out of breath against the wall.
"I just don’t want to, Che. If you wanna fuck me, you’ll have to be honest. Enjoy jerking off screaming my name."
And with that, he was gone, and for all the rest of the dream, Che saw himself trying to get off, rubbing his dick desperately with his pants down around his ankles. But no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t come. He started to moan at every tug, tears welling up in his eyes, and dream Colin was watching him, back on the doorframe, shaking his head from left to right like he sometimes did when Che said a very dark joke, with that mean, knowing smirk on his lips.
"Aaah… Colin… Col-"
Che woke up with a startle as his orgasm tore into him. He breathed in, struggling to make sense of all of this, when it became clear as crystal that he had just come in the sheets, like a hormonal teen. In Colin’s sheets, in Colin’s apartment. Fuck.
Che got up, his hands unsteady as he folded the sheets and tried to calm his breath. He was still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. That’s okay. That’s okay, everything’s okay.
He just needed to find a way to make this disappear before Colin would get up, and it was like what, three A.M.? There was way enough time.
He went to Colin‘s laundry room, where there was a quite astonishing amount of different soap, - again, holy consumerism -, and he froze, not knowing which one to use, and if Colin would mind he used it. He finally settled on one of the simplest, and threw the sheets in the washing machine, starting it.
Then, Che couldn’t ignore the fluffy lavender nightgown, carefully folded in a basket. The nightgown that Colin washed with the special vanilla soap. It was like a siren’s call, and Che gently lifted it, pressing his nose into the fabric and hugging it. He was being ridiculous, but he felt like he needed it like some sort of reassurance.
Then, there was noise on the other side of the door of the laundry room. Che let go of the nightgown quickly, and the door opened on a sleepy, very confused Colin. He was in his underwear. Did the man who owned so many different night clothes slept in underwear? Either way, the amount of naked skin was definitely challenging Che in keeping a straight face.
"Hey Che, you okay? Why you washing stuff in the middle of the night?"
Che blinked, and then, panicked. Yes, fuck, what was he supposed to give as an explanation? Was he supposed to say, Yeah sorry, I came all over your bed because I had a dream in which you were bossing me around wearing a tong? The silence stretched, and he replied the only thing he could think of.
"I, uh… This is pretty embarrassing, Colin. I’ve wet the bed, I, hm… must’ve drunk too much water before sleeping. Happens from time to time, it’s… it’s a childhood trauma thing."
God knew he had a shitload of childhood traumas, but this one wasn’t one of them. For one moment, he thought that Colin wouldn’t believe him, would ask if that was a joke. But no, only sadness appeared in the man's tired eyes. "Oh, Michael. I’m sorry, I should not have asked. Come here."
And at that, almost naked, sleepy Colin walked into the laundry room, wrapping his arms around him for the God-knew-what time today, and it was almost too much. Che usually slept naked and had also only put on his underwear, which meant the skin-to-skin contact was burning like a fire all over. Che still gave back the hug and Colin rubbed his back gently.
"You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I really don’t mind, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with this."
"It… It’s okay Colin. Hnng. Too much hugging."
"I’m sorry," repeated Colin, letting go of him instantly. "M’too sleepy, don’t know what I’m doing. Let the sheets wash, you can come sleep in my bed."
Che blinked again, at a loss for words.
"If you want to. I’ll keep to my side of the bed. Don’t want you sleeping badly. Meeting tomorrow."
Ah, right.
"Kay’, let’s… let’s do that."
I’m so incredibly fucked.