Take Out
Title: Take Out
Pairing: Dick/Nix
Rating: PG13
AU Fluffery
Summary: Short one-shot about making dinner plans.
Cross-posted to my journal and no_vices
Dick Winters appreciated the fact he’d switched his phone to silent when it began buzzing in the middle of his Thursday night history class. The last time he’d left it on the counter unattended and taken a shower, Nix had taken it upon himself to download a song for his own number without Dick’s knowledge. Hearing “What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man,” shout out in a dead quiet library hadn’t been funny for another two days afterwards, even though Nix had laughed as soon as he walked in the door. Aside from chaining it to his body-and he’d be perfectly happy to get rid of the blasted thing if he could-there was no telling if it’d been tampered with since he’d last physically held it. God knew what embarrassing musical choices Lew had in his repertoire.
Continuing to write with one hand, Dick silenced the annoying buzzing that could only mean Nixon was getting hungry and exasperated. Only half a page left about an enlightened despot or two and he could hand in his answers and be done. He tuned out the patchy rhythm of the guy writing beside him-scribble, pause, consider, then furiously scribble some more-and wrote.
The usual routine of perusing his essay one last time and reconsidering the answers to troublesome questions was forsaken for time’s sake. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and strode down the stairs. Test dropped on desk, damage done, Dick had only pushed the classroom door open when his phone, as if possessed with Nixon’s unapologetic impatience itself, buzzed unhappily on his hip.
He fished it out and, out of curiosity, restored the volume with a click. “Well, I’m a waste like you, with nothing else to do. May I waste your time too?” sang back at him. Dick laughed through his nose and smiled briefly, mildly impressed at the fitting sentiment. The punk chords echoed in the hallway as he walked until he flicked it open.
“Hey.”
“About time you finished your thesis.” Hungry, agitated, but not irrevocably aggravated yet. “Jesus…”
“Practice ran late. As a consequence, everything else following did too. Funny how that worked out.” Dick did his best not to smile at the restlessness in his friend’s voice, approaching the main building’s doors.
“Hilarious,” Nixon said. “About as funny as it’s going to be when you have to make a trip to the morgue if you don’t bring back some take-out.”
“Sounds more like a solution to my problems.”
“I’m serious. There’s only booze left in the cupboard.”
Dick overlooked the obvious return-A saintly display of self-restraint for you, Nix-and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, transferring out into the chilly night outside. “Where’s Harry?”
“At the moment? In Kittie.”
“In the room?” Dick asked, taking the left path as the sidewalk cutting the campus forked in two.
“No, out somewhere-I mean it, take out. Me, you, eating it.”
Dick snorted as he stopped at the end of the first block, taking the time to pull his hood up to keep his ears warm while traffic filed through the intersection. He had five more to go. Then, three sets of stairs, a long, skinny hallway of ‘institutional white,’ as Nix continually described it, then the apartment he knew as home. “You’ve done more important things on an empty stomach. Buying groceries would be easy.”
“And pointless when you bring a bunch of white boxes of foreign food home.”
“Hold on.”
“What?” There it was-an almost bratty note of ‘What else could be as important as this?” Sometimes it was hard to bear, but a lot of the time, it just made Dick smirk to himself.
“I’m getting another call. Your independence wants to know where you are.”
“Bite me,” Nix grumbled, echoed with a chorusing note from his stomach Dick could hear across the phone.
Two more blocks to go, then a kitchen with slightly yellowish bulbs that needed replacement, books and paper coating almost every conceivable surface, two bedrooms, two beds for three people, and Nixon most likely sitting in Harry’s favorite spot on the couch in his absence. “Only if you behave,” he said casually, happy that the entire conversation wasn’t privy to everyone as he walked up to a brightly lit take-out place. “Pasta fine with you?”
“I fucking love you,” Nixon groaned in the phone.
Dick couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re easily bought, Nix.”
“I’m malnourished. Don’t get a big head,” he answered, the satisfaction thick in his voice. “And don’t forget the good bread.”
“Stay sober tonight and you have a deal.”
A momentary pause. Nixon, no doubt, glancing across the room to the kitchen cabinets-or, if he was as famished as he claimed-the container resting on his knee. “You can’t expect me to have sex while sober. I’m so much more pleasurable when I’m evened out.”
Dick laughed. “You think so.”
“And ignorance was bliss.”
“Do you want your bread?”
There was a silence that could only mean yes, he’d been that famished, and was now walking whatever he’d been drinking back to the cupboard, like dutifully dropping off a date before he could run the bases in the car.
“See you in a few minutes. Hang tough ‘til then,” Dick said, smiling warmly at the girl at the counter.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nix grumbled half-heartedly. Dick remained unconvinced, hung up, and ordered.
Pairing: Dick/Nix
Rating: PG13
AU Fluffery
Summary: Short one-shot about making dinner plans.
Cross-posted to my journal and no_vices
Dick Winters appreciated the fact he’d switched his phone to silent when it began buzzing in the middle of his Thursday night history class. The last time he’d left it on the counter unattended and taken a shower, Nix had taken it upon himself to download a song for his own number without Dick’s knowledge. Hearing “What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man,” shout out in a dead quiet library hadn’t been funny for another two days afterwards, even though Nix had laughed as soon as he walked in the door. Aside from chaining it to his body-and he’d be perfectly happy to get rid of the blasted thing if he could-there was no telling if it’d been tampered with since he’d last physically held it. God knew what embarrassing musical choices Lew had in his repertoire.
Continuing to write with one hand, Dick silenced the annoying buzzing that could only mean Nixon was getting hungry and exasperated. Only half a page left about an enlightened despot or two and he could hand in his answers and be done. He tuned out the patchy rhythm of the guy writing beside him-scribble, pause, consider, then furiously scribble some more-and wrote.
The usual routine of perusing his essay one last time and reconsidering the answers to troublesome questions was forsaken for time’s sake. He slung his backpack over one shoulder and strode down the stairs. Test dropped on desk, damage done, Dick had only pushed the classroom door open when his phone, as if possessed with Nixon’s unapologetic impatience itself, buzzed unhappily on his hip.
He fished it out and, out of curiosity, restored the volume with a click. “Well, I’m a waste like you, with nothing else to do. May I waste your time too?” sang back at him. Dick laughed through his nose and smiled briefly, mildly impressed at the fitting sentiment. The punk chords echoed in the hallway as he walked until he flicked it open.
“Hey.”
“About time you finished your thesis.” Hungry, agitated, but not irrevocably aggravated yet. “Jesus…”
“Practice ran late. As a consequence, everything else following did too. Funny how that worked out.” Dick did his best not to smile at the restlessness in his friend’s voice, approaching the main building’s doors.
“Hilarious,” Nixon said. “About as funny as it’s going to be when you have to make a trip to the morgue if you don’t bring back some take-out.”
“Sounds more like a solution to my problems.”
“I’m serious. There’s only booze left in the cupboard.”
Dick overlooked the obvious return-A saintly display of self-restraint for you, Nix-and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, transferring out into the chilly night outside. “Where’s Harry?”
“At the moment? In Kittie.”
“In the room?” Dick asked, taking the left path as the sidewalk cutting the campus forked in two.
“No, out somewhere-I mean it, take out. Me, you, eating it.”
Dick snorted as he stopped at the end of the first block, taking the time to pull his hood up to keep his ears warm while traffic filed through the intersection. He had five more to go. Then, three sets of stairs, a long, skinny hallway of ‘institutional white,’ as Nix continually described it, then the apartment he knew as home. “You’ve done more important things on an empty stomach. Buying groceries would be easy.”
“And pointless when you bring a bunch of white boxes of foreign food home.”
“Hold on.”
“What?” There it was-an almost bratty note of ‘What else could be as important as this?” Sometimes it was hard to bear, but a lot of the time, it just made Dick smirk to himself.
“I’m getting another call. Your independence wants to know where you are.”
“Bite me,” Nix grumbled, echoed with a chorusing note from his stomach Dick could hear across the phone.
Two more blocks to go, then a kitchen with slightly yellowish bulbs that needed replacement, books and paper coating almost every conceivable surface, two bedrooms, two beds for three people, and Nixon most likely sitting in Harry’s favorite spot on the couch in his absence. “Only if you behave,” he said casually, happy that the entire conversation wasn’t privy to everyone as he walked up to a brightly lit take-out place. “Pasta fine with you?”
“I fucking love you,” Nixon groaned in the phone.
Dick couldn’t help but laugh at that. “You’re easily bought, Nix.”
“I’m malnourished. Don’t get a big head,” he answered, the satisfaction thick in his voice. “And don’t forget the good bread.”
“Stay sober tonight and you have a deal.”
A momentary pause. Nixon, no doubt, glancing across the room to the kitchen cabinets-or, if he was as famished as he claimed-the container resting on his knee. “You can’t expect me to have sex while sober. I’m so much more pleasurable when I’m evened out.”
Dick laughed. “You think so.”
“And ignorance was bliss.”
“Do you want your bread?”
There was a silence that could only mean yes, he’d been that famished, and was now walking whatever he’d been drinking back to the cupboard, like dutifully dropping off a date before he could run the bases in the car.
“See you in a few minutes. Hang tough ‘til then,” Dick said, smiling warmly at the girl at the counter.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nix grumbled half-heartedly. Dick remained unconvinced, hung up, and ordered.