Hugs: Nathan blurb
Hi. Not even gonna tag / describe this properly, sorry. Nothing elaborate. Just a short, comforting Nathan blurb with hugs because that’s what I was feeling (and about all I can manage) 🙈 OMG I luff him, your honour.
You quickly fumble away your tears as Nathan enters the lab, sitting up straight as a rod before your screen.
The last thing you need is for your boss (and crush) to see you crying. Thankfully, you think you’ve hidden it reasonably well.
“Are you crying?”
Shit.
“Maybe.”
Nathan frowns. “Why are you trying to hide it from me?”
You shrug. “You know. You’re… you.”
Nathan frowns more deeply. “I am, insofar as we can perceive of the concept of the ‘self.’ Unless we’re subscribing to the antirealist philosophical view and-”
You look at him tiredly. “-Nathan.” You rub your temples, and to your surprise your small plea actually shuts him up. He clamps his mouth abruptly into a thin line, and crosses silently to the desk, perching one ass cheek on the edge, and calmly folding his hands into his lap.
Then, he begins, much more softly. “That’s a bad thing in this scenario? To be me?”
You look up at him through a blur of tears, emotion swelling again. “You’ll think I’m all… pathetic. And human.”
Nathan scoffs, with a flash of white teeth. “Wow. I will, will I? Let me tap your brain for that sexy algorithm, honey. Didn’t know you could predict thoughts.”
A deep sigh leaves you, and you haphazardly scrub the tear tracks away from your cheeks. “You know. Your sarcasm isn’t helping.”
He actually looks a little put-out then, as though he genuinely might have believed his sarcasm to be a magic cure-all. “You’re wrong, anyway. I don’t think you’re pathetic.”
You look up at him in light surprise -and mild suspicion- as he reaches across the surface to offer you a box of tissues. Gratefully, you pull the tiny sail from the opening with a flourish, and sniffle into it. “Well. What are you thinking?”
“I think you’re snotty and making me uncomfortable.” Well, you asked, and Nathan’s blunt enough to tell things how they are. You look up at him again, ready to chide him. However, you spot a tiny smirk beneath his beard which reveals he’s teasing. Then, as your gaze travels up further, you find his deep, dark eyes have become uncharacteristically soft, the care present in them stunning you into silence. “What do you need?” Nathan asks softly, ever the one for solutions.
You shrug.
Nathan looks perplexed at that, his head tilting to the side, and his mouth drawing into a stern line. “Well if you don’t know, honey, I can’t help you.”
You simply look at the floor. You don’t know what you need, and that’s part of the very multi-faceted problem. Nathan deals well with complexity, typically, but not the emotional kind - nuance be damned. In fact, from what you’ve seen of him, he has five very distinct states: horny, arrogant, sarcastic, drunk, and pissed off. Currently, he seems to be leaning towards the latter, and it’s the last thing you need. In fact, you don’t think any of them would do you much good right now.
So, you’re honestly about to tell him to piss off when a tentative, broad hand settling over yours takes you by surprise. Nathan looks at you earnestly, softly, and in this new context, his perturbed attitude makes a little more sense, you think. You realise that he’s annoyed when he doesn’t know the solution to meet his goal - he doesn’t enjoy feeling unsure or outdone, after all. And, his “goal” here, you realise? Only to comfort you. For once, you don’t think he has a single other agenda.
You peer down at his hand, Nathan’s warmth blooming pleasantly through you. You trail your gaze up his bulked, sculpted arm, over the sleeve of that flattering black polo, and flit it around his singularly handsome face, brow still locked in a stern portrayal of concern.
Suddenly, you think you do know what it is you need. Not to solve anything, no; but to feel just a little better? You think so.
“Can I have a hug, Nathan Bateman?”
Nathan stiffens tellingly in his perch. Clears his throat emphatically. His throat bobs with uncertainty. He’s hardly a tactile person. Not affectionate.
But then, as soon as you submit your request, he is shifting. Extending his arms out willingly towards you. “Come here then. Just don’t snot all over me before my 3pm with the board, understand?”
Nathan’s words and expression remain harsh, but, when his arms envelop you, they are nothing but tender and gentle. All of his strength and his bite reined in; for you.
He wraps you up in him, shuffling his butt forward to the desk edge so he can plant both feet, allowing you to nestle comfortably between his thighs. To lean yourself into his chest and be thoroughly cocooned by his warmth.
For a moment, you breathe deeply, sucking in the scent of him, your chests rising and falling in time. The pleasant, dull, slow thud of his heart sounding against your ear.
Nathan is almost entirely still - and yet, after a deep breath, he seems to melt into it. His hands begin to smooth a slow path up and down your back.
“Fuck,” you breathe. “Why are you famous for code, Nathan? You should be known for giving the best damn hugs, I swear to God.”
Given how Nathan usually riles you, you feel unexpectedly at peace wrapped up in his arms, and a whole different kind of emotion swells within you.
“Yeah?” he asks, and you feel him shake lightly against you as you earn a gruff little chuckle. “Well. You smell great.”
The compliment reverberates through you along with the deep thrum of his voice, and you smile bashfully into his chest.
You think you could stay here all day, lost in him, but you know that Nathan -for his part- has other plans. More important things to do; namely that board meeting at 3. You stiffen as you catch a glance at the clock, and, reacting to you, Nathan releases his arms, creating an open loop around you, his face carefully examining yours. “What is it?” he says with an animated concern, even if his eyes now look hooded and content, his posture far more relaxed.
“Your meeting, Nate.”
“C’mere,” he says, softly shaking his head, drawing you gently back into him.
“But what about-“
“-They’ll wait,” he says confidently, as though the matter is settled. They’ll wait.
This embrace though? Apparently, this is something which can’t possibly be bumped until later.
And, to your utter shock, Nathan stays there, holding you tenderly - until you opt to let go.
You don’t though; at least, not for a rather long time.
Not until you’re feeling much, much better.
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