Cliché School Romance
Summary: Romania is an eccentric new student eager to make friends. Bulgaria is the school delinquent who hangs out with the wrong people. Against all odds they form a friendship which transforms into something more. Bulgaria x Romania
Chapter 6: A Little Too Old for Sleepovers
Alin feels almost giddy as they head for the elevator. He has never had a friend for a sleepover, he's never been this close to anyone. And while Felicino and Francis are nice, lively and amusing to spend time around, he feels their bond lacks depth. It's normal, he is new and they have other friends and maybe they're just different from him to begin with.
Nikolai, however, is a whole different story. The Bulgarian has depth and intensity like no one else Alin has met. He's interesting, like an old book, a classic, none of that sappy new age kind of crap you read about in magazines.
"If we're going to do this often, then maybe I should get a toothbrush here," Nikolai points out, voice light and amused and tearing Alin away from his own little introspection.
"Uh-uh," the Romanian mumbles in agreement, not paying attention to their light banter as his eyes land firmly on the other teen as they exit the door.
The familiar warmth pools in his chest and struggles to push away unwanted thoughts. Alin is not only a virgin, he hasn't kissed anyone either and as shameful as it may be in society's eyes he hasn't held hands with anyone apart from his mother and sister.
He can feel his cheeks heat up as his imagination draws pictures, dangerous pictures of Nikolai's lips over his own. Alin has only ever touched himself a handful times, he's not a sexual person or at least he's thought he's not until now. Now everything's different when a certain enigmatic Bulgarian is around.
Still, he doesn't dare think about the other in that way, doesn't let his imagination mentally undress him. (Even if his mind insists on straying in such a direction).
"Are you okay," Nikolai asks suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks and making Alin bump into him.
"Sorry," the Romanian mumbles under his breath, unable to hide his excitement and embarrassment.
"You look a little flushed," the green eyed teen observes and stretches a pale hand, absentmindedly feeling his forehead, "Tch, you don't have a fever."
Alin nods and offers a, 'That's very considerate to say, Dr. Ivanov."
Nikolai laughs at his words and suddenly the hallway to his apartment seems too small and is filled with nothing but the other's melodious laughter. Alin thinks how he wants to record it and play it on repeat but then muses how the other would kill him for it.
They enter his apartment and Nikolai leisurely kicks off his sneakers, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. He suddenly undoes the button of his jeans and tugs at them. Alin merely stares at him, mouth agape.
"What are you doing?" he demands abruptly and the Bulgarian pauses, raising an eyebrow in his direction.
"Uh, what does it look like?" he asks, voice a little harsh but it's evident he's in a good mood despite the few bruises blossoming over his pale skin from the fight earlier.
"I don't sleep with my clothes on." Nikolai states with a shrug, as if that is the most natural thing in the world.
As if to accentuate his point he takes off his T-shirt and Alin thinks how this is some sort of elaborate torture on the other's part. He just stares at him.
Nikolai's skin is smooth and pale over his torso. His muscles are pronounced but not obtrusive. He looks like someone who trains and trains hard but only does it to feel good and maybe the occasional fight, not for the show.
Nikolai looks good, more than good and Alin forces himself to turn away and busy himself untying his shoe laces with more care than he ever has.
The Bulgarian rambles on about something random, he complains about Radko a few times and praises Katya. Alin doesn't hear a word of it, busy ordering some stray shoes and placing his jacket tentively on the hanger.
When he turns around he's in for a surprise.
Nikolai is standing oppose him, strong arms crossed over his chest…in nothing but his boxers.
Alin can't stop himself before he lets out a small, drawn out sound, "Oooh."
He feels stupid and embarrassed and wonders why he can't act normally around other human beings.
Nikolai raises an eyebrow, "See something you like?" he teases and Alin nearly faints when the other winks at him. His cheeks are a thick crimson colour at this point while the Bulgarian roars with laughter.
"What's so funny?" Alin finally manages to say once he overcomes some of his embarrassment. He looks pointedly at his feet, clad in purple socks and refuses to cast a glance in the other's direction.
"Your face," Nikolai continues to boast with laughter and the Romanian hopes the neighbours are either very heavy sleepers or at the very least they've stuffed their ears with something and won't come barging to his door and demanding explanations as to why the fuck someone's laughing in three in the morning.
"You look as if you've never seen another guy in his boxers before."
Alin tries to think of an excuse and murmurs a soft, "I have, in P.E" as he pushes past the Bulgarian and heads for the living room.
Nikolai doesn't say anything as Alin vaguely gestures towards the couch before opting for the bedroom to get some spare sheets, blankets and pillows. The other dots on him, taking the time to enjoy masterfully drawn paintings in expensive frames or steal a glance at the library.
"You don't think you're having me on the couch do you?" the taller teen demands in the end when Alin stretches out a hand to get some boring white sheets.
"Uh, yeah I do," the Romanian retorts, "Don't you think it's a little audacious to make a man sleep on the couch in his own house?"
Nikolai scoffs, "First of all, that's the hospitable thing to do,"
"Well, maybe I'm not a hospitable person," Alin cuts in, teasing the other as some of his previous confidence and playfulness have returned after the initial shock and surprise (and badly hidden admiration) of seeing the other in his underwear.
"Oh, I beg to differ," Nikolai chuckles, "And besides, who said you'd sleep on the couch?"
At first Alin doesn't understand what the other means and merely stares at him, mouth a gape. Right before asking him to clarify his eyes widen.
"You want us to sleep together!?"
"Why not," the Bulgarian shrugs nonchantly before throwing himself on his bed, as if to indicate his point.
Alin is at loss of words and for a good thirty seconds he just stares, unable to say anything back. Nikolai laughs once again before throwing the covers over himself.
"Shower first." Alin suggests weakly, trying to buy himself time. He'd never imagined the other would actually sleep in his bed, he'd thought it would just be them sharing jokes on the couch and then dozing off in different rooms, let alone different beds.
"Ay, ay," the Bulgarian jokes, giving him a sloppy, improvised salute before heading for the bathroom.
Alin throws himself on the bed, feeling like a heroine from some cheap rom com teenage flick. On the one hand he is elated that the other's going to sleep with him, no that sounded wrong, sleep next to him (in a totally platonic way of course).
But on the other he is terrified. What if something slips his mouth? What if he tells the other he likes him a little more (a lot more) than a classmate or a friend? What if his hands wonder over him, cuddling him in his sleep and the other finds it disgusting.
What if this impromptu sleepover ends their friendship and it's all his fault?
Alin doesn't have any more time to ponder over the dire situation as Nikolai walks into his room, small water droplets glistening over pale skin, navy blue boxers dangling from his hand while he has a red towel wrapped around his waist.
"Do you Bulgarians have any idea what boundaries mean!?" Alin nearly shouts and Nikolai rolls his eyes.
"Give me some credit here, at least I put on a towel for you princess." He retorts before sitting on the end of the bed.
"Aren't you going to shower as well?" he inquires, turning to face him.
The Romanian nods, pulling out his pajamas and a pair of boxers of his own before going for the bathroom.
When he returns (after a lot of life pondering under the hot stream of the shower), he finds Nikolai already lying on the bed, a book in his hand, no surprise there.
The window is open and Alin shivers in his pajamas as he heads over to shut it closed.
"Hey, it's too hot here!" Nikolai complains, shutting the book closed. Alin already knows he's read (insert book title here).
"Not for me," he replies, flashing the other a toothy grin and attempting to act nonchantly, "My house, my rules."
The Bulgarian pouts at him but Alin ignores it and heads for the bed, turning off the lights.
"Nice pajamas by the way," Nikolai teases and some of the street lights peek into the room, illuminating his face.
Alin can't stop himself before musing over how attractive the other looks, the gentle light making his pale skin almost glowing and his green eyes a peculiar silvery shade.
It's mesmerizing and Alin has a feeling he won't forget this picture for a long time.
"You're just jealous you don't have the courage to wear pink pajamas," Alin retorts in the end but his reply takes a minute too long and he can feel the atmosphere between them shift.
"True that." Nikolai replies and something in his voice makes the Romanian wonder if perhaps the simple banter has more meaning than either of them lets on.
In a few hesitant steps Alin by his bed, lifting the cover slowly before settling in.
"Alin, if this bothers you, then maybe I should take the couch," Nikolai points out, voice quieter and softer now.
"Nu, nu, nu," Alin responds quickly, waving his hands. The last thing he wants in the world is for the other to leave.
Just the opposite, as embarrassed and nervous as he is, he wants to remember everything about this quiet moment, the way to street lights illuminate the other's face, the smell of the impending autumn in the air, the soft touch of the covers.
He wants to bookmark this precise moment, put it in some cherished folder of his memory and then go back and look at it over and over again.
"It's fine," he says in the end and lays on the bed.
It's awkward for a few minutes that stretch into eternity and then Nikolai breaks the silence, "You haven't done this before?"
Alin bites his lip, unsure how to reply. He's never shared a bed before; he's never been close to anyone. He likes people from afar, before they get close and he has to be honest, showing them the real him which in his opinion isn't a pretty picture.
Alin is a master of tricks and disguise. He dies his hair blonde because society likes blonde and he plays the role of the Goth teen from Eastern Europe and most people don't ask for anything more.
But Nikolai does, Nikolai is the first to really look at him. He doesn't care about the vampire talk and the Goth clothes and all the other tricks Alin uses to steer away the conversation from himself, the real Alin Popescu.
"Nu," he answers in the end and he can feel the Bulgarian shift, turning to his right side, so that he can face him. Alin instinctively does the same.
It's just them and the silence of the apartment, the crisp autumn air and the cheap lights from the streets. Alin feels likes this is some sort of safe Heaven and he wonders if perhaps he's dead or fast asleep because there is no way this is real, that Nikolai is real and only a few inches away from him.
He doesn't dare touch him, as if he's scared that he's a hallucination, something his lonely mind has painted to make the world look less bleak
"Is it a routine for you to share a bed with someone else?" Alin finds himself asking, desperate to fill in the silence before his mind convinces that maybe Nikolai isn't real.
"Actually, yes." The Bulgarian replies and Alin raises an eyebrow, surprised at the answer.
"I sleep with Radko." The other says, voice as nonchalant as always.
"You what?" Alin nearly cries out before hushing himself, remembering the neighbours' prized sleep, "You don't mean…"
Nikolai waves a hand in the semi-dark, "No of course not. If I were to ever fuck a guy that Serbian piece of shit would be the last on my list."
(Alin has to bite his tongue so he doesn't ask what place he has on that list.)
"Then?"
"Well," Nikolai seems to struggle with what he's about to say next, almost as if he's unsure of what Alin will think of him, "We're ditch poor as I'm sure you've noticed."
Alin merely nods, there's no point to deny the obvious.
"We don't have the money for another bed. So…yeah. Me and Radko and one big ass bed."
The Romanian doesn't say anything for a few moments, letting his imagination paint the picture of the temperamental Bulgarian and the violent Serbian in the same bad, fully clothed fortunately, and fast asleep.
"It-it's not like we cuddle or some shit," Nikolai assures, "I mean the bed is big."
"It's okay, Niko." Alin says, voice soft and quiet. When the Bulgarian relaxes and gives him an appreciative glance something blossoms in his chest and he tries very hard not to raise his hand and run in down the other's face.
"You don't think I'm disgusting for being poor to the point that I have to share a bed with a psychopath who hates me?" he asks and the sarcasm is back but his voice is still softer than usual.
Alin chuckles, "No. And I don't think there's anything wrong with being poor."
Nikolai frowns at the words, almost if they're too good to be true.
"I don't." the Romanian assures, "Most of my country's poor anyway and…it's not a crime."
The Bulgarian doesn't say anything for a long time and Alin wonders if perhaps he's dozing but then the other speaks up again, "Do you want to talk about tonight? About the bar?"
A series of events flash before Alin upon hearing the hushed question. The evening at the bar seems so far away, almost if it's happened years ago. It's a strange feeling, how for years his life was boring and now in the manner of one evening that has spilled into the night he's lived more than in the last decade.
"No," he retorts, voice honest.
"You don't have to come again if you don't want to."
"But I do," the Romanian argues and it's not a lie. Nikolai is something fresh and different, something that stands apart from his routine and something he can't help but become addicted to. And everything the other does, everything around him, every piece of his world is something Alin wants to explore.
Even the dusty bars with Eastern European criminals.
"Добре," Nikolai says and Alin can hear the sleepiness rubbing off from his voice.
They chat for a few minutes more, it's a lazy chat like the ones you have with a close friend and the Romanian can already feel his eyelids heavy.
The pause between Nikolai's responses stretch and within minutes he's asleep. Alin isn't far behind.
Falling asleep is easy, just like falling for the other.
Author's Note: I want to apologize for not posting last Saturday. My grandfather passed away and to be honest I didn't feel like working on the stories…
Thanks to: Hollywoodling and GarGoyl for reviewing!
What did you think of the sleepover? Do you enjoy the slow progress the two are making?
What did you think of Niko sharing small details about himself? I promise I will write all about his past in future chapters!
Btw what did you think of Trump's victory? You can read my thoughts on my new fic: Show Must Go On, which is in the Hetalia Fandom as well, it's centered around America's p.o.v
If you're enjoying the story, please share your opinion, feedback it always every motivating !