Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like heaven. Eggs were sizzling in one pan, bacon in another, and Clint moved around the space with that same effortless confidence Nick couldn’t stop noticing.
Amelie was still upstairs — her shower apparently turning into a full concert, judging by the muffled singing floating down. That left Nick sitting at the kitchen table, trying to look casual while his brain replayed the image of Clint shirtless from upstairs on loop.
Clint had the TV on in the living room, visible from the kitchen island. He’d picked a movie at random and let it play while he cooked.
Of all things… he’d put on Miller’s Girl.
Nick stared at the screen, eyebrows slowly pulling together. He knew the movie. He’d seen the trailers. The whole teacher-student thing. The tension. The way the age gap was treated like this dark, magnetic pull. It felt way too on the nose.
Why that movie? Does he even know what it’s about? Is this a coincidence?
Clint hummed quietly to himself as he flipped the bacon, completely relaxed. Every few seconds he’d tear off a small crispy piece, cool it down for a second, and hold it out.
“Here you go, Rem. Easy, buddy. Not too fast.”
Remy happily took the treat, tail wagging like crazy, then immediately trotted over to Nick like he was sharing the prize. The big golden dropped the piece of bacon right at Nick’s feet and looked up at him with proud, expectant eyes.
Nick couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, boy,” he whispered, picking it up and pretending to eat it before sneaking it back to Remy. The dog ate it with glee and immediately went back to Clint for more.
Clint laughed — that warm, deep dad laugh that made Nick’s stomach twist again. “He’s trying to recruit you into his little bacon cult. Don’t fall for it, Nick. He’s manipulative when there’s pork involved.”
Nick forced a chuckle, but his eyes kept drifting back to the TV. On screen, the teacher and student were having one of those charged conversations, the kind loaded with subtext. Nick shifted in his seat, cheeks feeling hot.
He’s Amelie’s dad. He’s literally cooking you breakfast right now and you’re sitting here thinking about…
Clint glanced over his shoulder. “You good with eggs scrambled? I can do them however you like.”
“Scrambled is perfect,” Nick said quickly. “Thank you.”
Clint nodded and went back to the stove. Another piece of bacon was torn off and handed down. “Who’s my good boy? Yeah, you are. Such a polite beggar, aren’t you?”
Remy ate it happily and once again trotted straight over to Nick, bacon piece dangling from his mouth like a gift. He dropped it on Nick’s lap this time, tail thumping against the chair leg.
Nick scratched behind Remy’s ears, trying to focus on the dog instead of the movie or the way Clint’s sweatpants sat on his hips or the smooth skin he’d seen earlier that morning.
But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.
He’s twice your age. He has a daughter your age. He just called Remy “good boy” in that voice and now you’re—
“You like this movie?” Clint asked casually, nodding toward the TV as he plated the food.
Nick blinked. “Uh… I’ve heard about it. Didn’t know you were into stuff like this.”
Clint shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “It was just on my watchlist. Figured it’d be interesting background noise. Kind of intense though.”
Intense was an understatement. Nick watched as another loaded scene played out — the power imbalance, the forbidden tension, the way the younger character kept pushing boundaries.
Remy came back again, this time with a fresh piece of bacon, and practically laid his head in Nick’s lap, looking for cuddles while he chewed. Nick buried his fingers in the dog’s fur, using him as an anchor.
Clint brought two full plates over and set one in front of Nick. The food looked perfect — fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast on the side.
“Eat up before it gets cold,” Clint said, sitting down across from him. He reached over and gave Remy’s head a fond pat. “You’re gonna make Nick your new best friend at this rate, huh buddy?”
Remy let out a content huff and stayed right where he was, half in Nick’s lap.
Nick picked up his fork, but his appetite was weirdly twisted. Every time Clint spoke to the dog in that soft, affectionate tone, every time he laughed, every time Nick remembered the sight of him changing… it all crashed together with the movie playing in the background.
This is so fucked up. He’s just being a good host. A good dad. Stop reading into everything, you pervy pervert.
But Nick couldn’t stop. Not the way his eyes lingered when Clint stretched his arms. Not the way his pulse jumped when Clint casually said “good boy” again to Remy.
Amelie’s voice suddenly carried down the stairs. “I smell bacon! Save me some!”
Clint smiled and called back, “Already did, kiddo.”
Nick took a bite of eggs and tried to act normal. But inside, the questions were getting louder.
How was he supposed to act normal around this man for the rest of the sleepover?
How was he supposed to look Amelie in the eye?
And why did the word “Daddy” suddenly feel like it had two completely different meanings in his head now?
@thenickgirl @noellexflwrs
Okay yes i know it's been ages for some reason I couldn't post for like a month and I've written this a lot offline and I've literally FINISHED the series and I just need to post them all 😭
In the meantime, I will be starting up another series, a Matt X Acrobat Influencer black female oc so stay tuned for that :P