#nerdynate

nerd!nate subbiondo x sorority!plug!fem!reader

summary: a college party starts like any other—loud, crowded, easy to get lost in—but shifts when two people keep finding themselves in quieter spaces than the rest of the night. what begins as routine turns into something harder to ignore, even if neither of them says it out loud.

word count: ~4,238

authors note: soso i really really like this one and i hope you guys do too & im going to start writing for hollis very very soon btw, as always, feedback is always welcome and actually needed so don’t be shy but nonetheless profitez bien, mes angels.

you pace around the living room for the third time in ten minutes.

it’s already set up.

lights strung across the ceiling, bottles lined up on the counter, speakers tested twice, pong table ready—everything exactly how delta gamma parties are supposed to look.

loud. easy. full.

you told your president you’d host tonight.

now you kind of wish you didn’t.

your eyes flick back to the bottles.

then to your bag sitting half-zipped on the counter.

you hesitate for a second.

how much of your supply are you actually about to let random people touch… for free?

you exhale, quick, shaking the thought off like it doesn’t matter.

it’ll work itself out.

it always does.

—

your room is quieter.

music low, something soft playing off your speaker while you sit at your vanity, fixing your makeup like it’s any other night.

it almost feels normal.

almost.

the door opens without a knock.

you glance up in the mirror.

nate.

he lingers in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be there.

which—he kind of isn’t.

but he always shows up anyway.

you’ve known him for a while now.

statistics class. a few rows ahead. always answering questions no one else understands.

quiet. smart. keeps to himself.

the first time he talked to you was at a sigma nu party—voice low, awkward, asking if what he heard was true.

that you sold.

he could barely get the words out.

you remember laughing a little.

not in a mean way. just—

he didn’t look like someone who’d be asking you that.

but he came back.

again and again.

always the same thing.

always quick. quiet. no small talk unless you start it.

—

he shifts slightly in the doorway now, like he’s debating stepping in or not.

someone must’ve let him up.

your sisters all think he’s your boyfriend.

you’ve never corrected them.

well maybe once or twice

it’s easier that way.

you turn in your chair, giving him a quick once-over.

gray zip-up hoodie. unzipped just enough to show there’s nothing underneath.

jeans. simple.

he looks like he threw it on without thinking.

his hair falls into his face while he rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking up to you for a second before dropping again.

you lean back against your vanity, arms loosely crossed.

“you’re early,” you say.

he shrugs a little.

“you said before it starts.”

his voice is low. careful.

like he doesn’t want anyone else hearing, even though it’s just you.

you watch him for a second.

he still hasn’t fully stepped into the room.

“door’s not gonna bite you,” you add.

that gets him to move, finally stepping inside and closing it behind him.

quiet again.

“i’m here for my usual,” he says, glancing at you like you might say no. “you said i could swing by.”

you tilt your head slightly, studying him.

he looks the same as always.

a little tense.

a little out of place.

but still here.

you push off the vanity slowly.

“yeah,” you say. “i remember.

you walk toward him, close enough to notice the way he shifts slightly, like he’s not used to being that close to you.

or maybe he is.

he just acts like he isn’t.

you stop just a little too close to him.

not enough to be obvious.

just enough that he notices.

he straightens slightly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

you do.

you notice everything.

“your usual,” you repeat, like you’re thinking about it.

“you ever switch it up or…?”

he huffs quietly, almost defensive. “it works.”

you glance up at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“right. wouldn’t wanna take risks.”

he shifts again, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i mean—no, i just—”

he stops, like he hears himself.

you let the silence sit for a second.

just to make it worse.

“you just what?” you press, softer now.

his eyes flick to yours for half a second, then away.

“nothing.”

you hum like you don’t believe him.

“you’re bad at this, you know that?”

that gets a reaction.

his brows pull slightly. “at what?”

you tilt your head, stepping around him slowly, like you’re circling the conversation instead of answering it.

“talking to me.”

he lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh but not really.

“i’m talking to you right now.”

“barely,” you say.

you walk back.

you reach your vanity again, opening a drawer like you’re not paying attention anymore—even though you are.

he watches you.

you can feel it.

“you only talk when you need something.”

you glance at him through the mirror.

“kinda rude.”

he shakes his head slightly. “that’s not—”

he stops again.

you wait.

he doesn’t finish.

you smile to yourself, pulling something out but not turning around yet.

“so you do talk more?” you say, casual. “or is this all i get?”

he exhales, this time actually letting out a small laugh.

“you’re doing that on purpose.”

you turn now, leaning back against the vanity again.

“doing what?”

he looks at you like you already know.

you do.

he hesitates, then—

“making it weird.”

you grin slightly. “i think you’re doing that yourself.”

that lands.

he looks down for a second, shaking his head under his breath.

“i’m just here to—”

“get your usual,” you finish for him.

he nods, relieved you didn’t drag that out longer.

you take a step closer again, holding it out—but not giving it to him yet.

“you know,” you say, quieter now, “you’re a lot less nervous than the first time.”

his eyes flick up.

“i wasn’t nervous.”

you raise a brow.

he pauses.

“…okay, maybe a little.”

you let out a soft laugh.

“you could barely look at me.”

“you were talking loud,” he mutters. “about prices.”

“ohh,” you nod slowly. “so that’s what it was.”

he doesn’t answer.

he just looks at you like he knows you’re not gonna let it go.

he notices that too.

of course he does.

“you’re still kinda bad at eye contact, though,” you add lightly.

he scoffs under his breath, but there’s a hint of a smile now.

“i’m fine.”

“yeah?” you lean in just slightly. “look at me then.”

he does.

for a second.

two.

then looks away again.

you smile, satisfied.

“thought so.”

—

you let the silence sit for a second.

not awkward.

just… stretched.

he’s still holding your gaze for half a beat longer this time before it drops again, like he caught himself.

you don’t say anything about it.

just watch him.

then you glance down at what’s still in your hand.

“you always this impatient?” you ask lightly.

he looks at it, then back at you. “you’re the one holding it.”

“yeah,” you shrug. “and you’re still here.”

that almost gets a smile out of him.

almost.

you step a little closer again, closing the space just enough to make it noticeable.

this time you don’t pull it back.

you hold it out.

he reaches for it, slower than before.

like he’s thinking about it now.

your fingers brush his —soft, quick—

but you don’t let go right away.

just a second too long.

long enough for him to notice.

long enough for him to hesitate.

then you let go.

he clears his throat quietly, looking down at it for a second like he needs something to focus on.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“mhm.”

he tucks it away, movements a little more careful than they need to be.

like he’s buying himself time.

you tilt your head slightly.

“you gonna leave right after?” you ask.

he pauses.

just for a second.

“i mean… i don’t have to.”

you nod slowly, like you expected that answer.

“there’s a party,” you say, gesturing vaguely toward downstairs. “in case you didn’t notice.”

he huffs a quiet breath. “kinda hard not to.”

“you could stay,” you add, casual. “if you want.”

you don’t look at him right away when you say it.

like it doesn’t matter.

like you’re just throwing it out there.

it hangs for a second.

he shifts his weight slightly.

“i don’t really—” he starts, then stops.

you glance at him. “don’t really what?”

“parties,” he says. “not really my thing.”

you nod once, like you get it.

you do.

but still—

“you came to one when you met me.”

he looks at you again.

“…yeah.”

“and you survived,” you add.

that pulls a small smile from him, quick but real

“you don’t have to stay long,” you say. “just… don’t disappear right away.”

the wording is light.

but it lands heavier than that.

he notices.

you can tell.

there’s a pause.

then he nods once.

“i’ll stay. for a bit.”

you smile, small.

like that’s enough.

“good.”

from downstairs, the music gets louder.

voices starting to build.

the party’s actually starting now.

you glance toward the door, then back at him.

“try not to look so out of place,” you add, teasing again.

he shakes his head, a quiet laugh slipping out.

“no promises.”

“figured.”

you move past him toward the door, brushing his shoulder lightly as you go.

you don’t look back.

but you know he’s still standing there for a second before following.

—

by the time you get downstairs, the party’s already started.

not slow, not easing into it—

just loud.

music heavy, bass shaking through the floor, people packed into the living room like it’s been going for hours already.

you barely pause.

this part is easy for you.

someone grabs your arm the second you step off the last stair.

“you finally came down,” one of your sisters laughs, already a little gone, red cup in hand.

you smile, quick, slipping right into it.

“had to make an entrance.”

she laughs again, pulling you into a quick side hug before getting distracted by something else.

you’re already moving.

talking, smiling, grabbing a drink without really thinking about it.

it’s automatic.

like you never left.

—

nate doesn’t follow as easily.

he lingers near the bottom of the stairs at first, taking everything in like it’s too much all at once.

which it probably is.

people brush past him without noticing, music too loud for anything to feel grounded.

he stays off to the side.

hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly tense.

watching.

mostly watching you.

—

you catch it eventually.

not right away.

but after a few minutes—mid-conversation, laughing at something someone says—you glance across the room and there he is.

exactly where you left him.

you excuse yourself without thinking too hard about it.

slipping through people, past bodies and noise, until you’re standing in front of him again.

“you look uncomfortable,” you say.

he lets out a quiet breath, like he’s been holding it.

“i told you this wasn’t my thing.”

“yeah,” you nod.

he glances at you.

“…yeah.”

you tilt your head slightly, studying him.

“c’mon,” you say, grabbing his wrist before he can react.

he stiffens for half a second—just surprised—but doesn’t pull away.

you lead him further into the room.

“you can’t just stand in the corner all night. that’s weird.”

“this is already weird,” he mutters.

you laugh lightly.

“you’ll be fine.”

—

it doesn’t take long for people to notice.

it never does.

especially when you’re the one pulling him through the crowd.

a couple of your sisters glance over, exchanging looks you don’t miss.

one of them leans toward another, whispering something with a small smile.

you ignore it.

mostly.

until—

“wait,” someone says as you pass. “is that your boyfriend?”

you don’t stop walking.

“no.”

too quick.

too easy.

but it doesn’t matter.

they’re already smiling like they don’t believe you.

—

you finally stop near the kitchen, letting go of his wrist.

he looks at you.

then at the people around you.

then back at you.

“they think i’m your boyfriend,” he says.

you shrug, reaching for a drink on the counter.

“they think a lot of things.”

he watches you for a second.

“do you correct them?”

you take a sip, then glance at him.

“sometimes.”

there’s a beat.

you just set your cup down, leaning back against the counter like this is nothing.

like this is normal.

he shifts slightly closer, still not fully relaxed but less stiff than before.

“you do this every weekend?” he asks.

“pretty much.”

he nods slowly, taking it in again—but this time it’s different.

less overwhelmed.

more… curious.

his eyes flick back to you.

“you look like you belong here.”

you raise a brow.

“i do.”

he nods again.

“…yeah.”

there’s something in the way he says it.

not teasing.

not awkward.

just honest.

and it sits there for a second longer than anything else has tonight.

it doesn’t take long for it to get too much.

the music gets louder.

people closer.

you get pulled into conversations, handed another drink, then another—laughing, moving, slipping further into it like it’s second nature.

nate doesn’t.

he stays near you at first.

then a little behind.

then off to the side again.

you don’t notice right away.

—

until you turn to say something and he’s not there.

you scan the room once.

twice.

then you spot him near the hallway, shoulders tight, already halfway out of the crowd like he’s been trying to leave without making it obvious.

you sigh quietly to yourself, setting your cup down.

“hold on,” you say to no one in particular, already moving.

—

you catch up to him just as he reaches the back door.

“you’re disappearing already?” you say.

he glances at you, a little caught.

“i was just—getting some air.”

“mm,” you hum, not fully buying it.

you push the door open before he can say anything else.

cool air hits instantly.

quieter out here. not silent, but enough that you can actually think.

you step onto the porch, leaning lightly against the railing.

he follows, closing the door behind him.

for a second, neither of you says anything.

you can still hear the music through the walls, muffled now, distant.

he exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“sorry,” he mutters. “it’s just a lot.”

you glance at him.

he looks more like himself out here.

less tense. less… out of place.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you say. “i dragged you into it.”

“you didn’t drag me,” he says. “i said i’d stay.”

“yeah,” you tilt your head slightly. “you did.”

a small pause.

you watch him for a second.

then, like it just crosses your mind—

“you haven’t paid me yet.”

he looks at you, blinking once.

“…seriously?”

you shrug, lips curving slightly.

“what? business is business.”

he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“you waited this long to say that?”

“i was busy,” you say. “hosting.”

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“how much was it again?”

you don’t answer right away.

just watch him for a second longer than necessary.

“you don’t remember?” you ask.

he pauses, glancing up at you.

“…i do. i just wanted to make sure you didn’t change it.”

you smile a little at that.

“i don’t do that.”

“you literally just said ‘business is business,’” he points out.

“yeah,” you nod. “not bad business.”

that gets another small laugh out of him.

quieter this time.

he looks back down at his phone, unlocking it.

you push off the railing slightly, stepping closer—not all the way, just enough.

“it’s the same,” you say finally.

he nods, typing it in.

you watch the screen light reflect off his face for a second before your phone buzzes in your hand.

you don’t check it right away.

just look at him.

“you always this serious about it?” he asks.

“about getting paid?” you say. “yeah.”

he glances up again.

“figured.”

you check your phone now. the payment’s there.

“good,” you say, slipping it back into your pocket.

another pause.

but this one feels different.

less transactional.

more… lingering.

you lean back against the railing again.

“you okay now?” you ask.

he nods once. “yeah. it’s better out here.”

you look toward the door, then back at him.

“you don’t have to go back in,” you say.

he studies your face for a second.

“you do,” he says.

you shrug slightly. “i always do.”

that sits between you.

quiet.

the music thumps faintly behind the door.

people, noise, everything waiting on the other side.

but neither of you moves yet.

the door swings open behind you.

music spills out louder for a second, voices overlapping.

“there you are,” one of your sisters says, already halfway through a sentence before she even fully sees who you’re with.

her eyes flick between you and nate.

pause.

a small smile.

“oh,” she says, dragging it out slightly. “my bad.”

you don’t move away from him.

don’t explain.

she looks between you again, clearly reading into it.

“we need you inside,” she adds, like she suddenly remembers. “someone’s asking for you. like—really asking.”

you sigh softly, glancing toward the door, then back at nate.

the moment’s gone now.

or at least… paused.

“of course i'll be in soon,” you say.

she just grins and slips back inside, leaving the door half open before it swings shut again.

quieter.

but not the same as before.

you look back at him.

you glance at nate.

“give me a minute,” you say, already stepping back.

he nods. “yeah.”

you pause mid-step, looking at him again.

“don’t disappear.”

he huffs out a quiet laugh this time, shaking his head.

“i won’t.”

“okay. good.”

you hold his gaze for a second.

then turn, pushing the door open and stepping back into the noise.

it takes longer than a second.

of course it does.

someone stops you the second you walk in.

then someone else.

music louder again, lights too bright, everything pulling you back into it like you never left.

you move through it automatically—talking, nodding, laughing when you’re supposed to—

but your attention isn’t fully there anymore.

not really.

—

when you finally slip back outside, the air feels different.

quieter again.

you spot him right away.

same place.

exactly where you left him.

you walk back over, slower this time.

“see,” you say lightly, “you didn’t disappear.”

he glances at you.

“told you.”

you lean back against the railing again, closer this time without thinking about it.

“you doing okay out here on your own?” you ask.

“yeah,” he says. “it’s better.”

you nod, watching him for a second longer than necessary.

then—

“you don’t act like this with everyone, right?” he asks.

you tilt your head. “like what?”

he gestures vaguely between you. “this.”

you smile slightly.

“you don’t act like this with everyone either.”

that shuts him up for a second.

you both know it’s true.

the space between you feels smaller now.

not physically.

just… different.

like something’s about to happen or be said.

he shifts slightly closer without realizing it.

“you’re kinda—” he starts.

and then stops.

you wait.

he doesn’t finish.

“kinda what?” you ask, softer.

he shakes his head, looking away again. “nothing.”

you smile a little.

“you do that a lot.”

“yeah,” he mutters. “i know.”

another pause.

longer this time.

you could say something.

you don’t.

neither does he.

and it just—

hangs there.

right on the edge of something.

you look at him for a second longer.

then exhale, glancing away.

“you wanna just—”

you stop, like you’re deciding how to say it.

“we could go upstairs,” you add, more casual now. “it’s quieter.”

a small pause.

you nod toward the house. “my room.”

he looks at you.

really looks this time.

like he knows that’s not just about it being quieter.

“…yeah,” he says.

not hesitant.

just… quieter than before.

you nod once, like that settles it.

“okay.”

you push off the railing, brushing past him lightly as you reach for the door.

“c’mon.”

you push the door open, the noise hitting you again for a split second before you slip back inside.

he’s right next to you this time.

closer than before.

you don’t stop in the living room.

don’t get pulled into anything.

you just move.

past people, past voices calling your name, past hands reaching out—

“wait—where are you going?” someone laughs, grabbing at your arm for a second.

“upstairs,” you say, already pulling away. “i’ll be back.”

you don’t wait for a response.

you can feel him keeping up next to you, not saying anything, just following.

—

your room is the same as before.

quiet.

dim.

like the party doesn’t exist.

you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a second like you’re letting the silence settle.

he lingers a few steps in.

same spot as earlier.

like he hasn’t decided what to do with himself yet.

you glance at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“you can sit,” you say.

he nods slightly, moving this time—sitting at the edge of your bed, hands resting loosely like he’s trying not to touch anything.

you push off the door, crossing the room.

sitting back at your vanity.

“relax,” you add. “it’s not that serious.”

“i am relaxed,” he says.

you raise a brow.

he exhales, glancing away.

“…i’m trying to be.”

that makes you smile a little more.

you sit up and move around your room like it’s routine—because it is.

drawer. bag. lighter.

everything where you left it.

he watches you.

again.

you can feel it without looking.

“you always this quiet?” you ask, not turning around yet.

“you always ask that many questions?” he shoots back.

you glance at him over your shoulder, a hint of a grin.

“only when people don’t talk.”

he shakes his head slightly, but there’s something softer in it now.

less tense.

you finally turn fully, stepping closer.

“you don’t have to act weird in here,” you say. “it’s just me.”

he looks at you.

“i’m not acting weird.”

“you are,” you say simply.

a small pause.

then—

“…okay, maybe a little.”

you laugh under your breath.

“thought so.”

you sit down beside him, not too close at first.

just enough.

“better than outside?” you ask.

he nods once.

“yeah.”

his voice is quieter again.

not shut off.

just… lower.

like he doesn’t feel the need to compete with anything in here.

you lean back slightly on your hands, looking at him instead of the room now.

“you almost left,” you say.

he glances at you.

“…i didn’t.”

“mm,” you hum. “but you were going to.”

he doesn’t answer right away.

then—

“it was a lot,” he says.

you nod.

“i know.”

a small pause.

“you didn’t have to stay,” you add.

he looks at you again.

“…i wanted to.”

that lands.

you don’t react right away.

just hold his gaze for a second longer than usual.

“yeah?” you say, quieter now.

he nods.

“yeah.”

the room feels smaller again.

like outside.

but different.

more contained.

you shift slightly closer without really thinking about it.

“you’re not as boring as i thought,” you say.

he lets out a quiet laugh. “you thought i was boring?”

“you sit in the front of a stats class,” you shrug. “what was i supposed to think?”

“that i’m smart,” he says.

you smile a little. “that too.”

he shakes his head, looking down for a second.

then back at you.

“you’re not what i thought either.”

you tilt your head.

“what did you think?”

he hesitates.

of course he does.

you wait.

“…different,” he says finally.

you smile slightly.

“that’s not an answer.”

you watch him.

it’s the only one i’ve got.”

—

silence settles again.

but it’s not empty.

it’s full in a way that makes everything feel slower.

you shift slightly closer again without really meaning to.

or maybe you do.

it’s hard to tell anymore.

his gaze drops for a second—just briefly—then comes back up.

like he noticed something he wasn’t supposed to.

you don’t move away.

you don’t move at all, actually.

“you’re doing that thing again,” you say quietly.

“what thing?”

your voice softens a little.

“thinking too much.”

that gets something out of him—not a laugh, not exactly—but a small breath that almost is.

he leans in a fraction.

not enough to be obvious.

enough that it changes the air between you.

you notice it immediately.

you don’t stop it.

he doesn’t either.

for a second, neither of you speaks.

just the space closing slowly, like it was always going to.

his eyes flick to your mouth.

just once.

then back up.

you notice that too.

and for a second—just a second you think he might actually—

laughter. footsteps. someone calling your name.

the moment snaps in half almost immediately.

you both pull back slightly at the same time without acknowledging it.

like nothing happened.

like it wasn’t there.

a beat passes.

he looks away first.

you stand up slowly.

“i should go check that,” you say, like your voice didn’t just change. “i’ll be right back.”

he nods once.

“yeah.”

another pause.

he stays seated.

you don’t look back too long.

but you can feel it still sitting there when you leave the room.

he stays seated after the door closes.

quiet settles back in, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore.

he exhales through his nose, almost a laugh.

rubs his palms once against his jeans.

“…yes.”

his hand tightens into a fist for a second before relaxing again.