Choose Your Own Intoxication
Title: Choose Your Own Intoxication
Fandom: Jimmy Neutron
Genre: AU, Angst
Couple(s): Sheen/Jimmy
Warning(s): Drug usage
Fic Status: Complete
Summary: Which did he prefer -- mental stimulation, drugs, or love?
Notes: Challenge #8 (Drowning) from Set B from 10_hiddenrealms. More usage of the professions mentioned in "The Tomorrow Boys". I'm so lazy. And, yes, that's Carl's ranch that I invented in It's Not Really Adultery, only these guys were never married and had always lived on the ranch of awesome. Yes, I plan to exploit said ranch to my heart's content.
Oh, and addict!Jimmy? I blame soulful and our chats together.
“Again?” came the wearied but pitying Mexican accent.
Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, wanting his boyfriend to disappear and come back in an hour or two when the morphine had worn off. It’s a lower dose than normal, so he’ll be back on his feet sooner than when he usually injects the substance into his bloodstream.
He heard a whine and knew how Sheen learned of what he’d been doing. And, holy Heisenberg, couldn’t they leave him be? He just needed a little peace and quiet, just a few moments when his constantly raging thoughts vanished into the gauze-like haze and he felt like a human being as opposed to a constantly calculating, biological machine.
Every passing year, his mental activity increased, driving him to the vast complex beneath the ranch to work later and later on new inventions and countless experiments. His productivity was up but only because his mind wouldn’t let him rest. What if he added that solvent? How about tweaking this machine? And theorem after theorem after theorem after theorem!
Not even when he was awarded his Nobel Prizes was he given rest. During his speeches, his mind whirred on, already reanalyzing old data for the trillionth time and cross-referencing it with anything new learned to see if it could use that. Yet somehow he never had a headache from it all. Just the constant flow of ideas like a continuous Brain Blast that drove him to exhaustion.
The morphine stopped it temporarily. He could relax and not have to worry about inventions or experiments. He could actually sleep uninterrupted. If he felt overwhelmed by the constant analysis and re-analysis, just a quick prick, and he got a few hours of peace.
The Mexican model sat down beside him on their bed and wrapped his arms around him. The scientist tried to pull away, but his movements were sluggish thanks to the drug.
Sheen sighed. “Got here late.”
His boyfriend didn’t like it when he used the needle, begging Jimmy to come to him if he needed a “brain break”. The genius did sometimes but despised having to lean on Sheen so much. The other man had shoots he had to go to, a life he had to live. Besides, Jimmy wanted to deal with it himself. He’d fought aliens and evil geniuses. He could handle his own mind, right?
But as Sheen held him, hugging him tightly, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. He leaned his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder and shook, fighting back tears. He wanted to ask for forgiveness but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
What on earth could the model see in the broken scientist before him? Didn’t he see what a raw deal he was getting? He was funny, great in bed, and wonderful (most of the time) to be around. Sure, they’d been friends for years, but was it really worth the hassle of putting up with someone who rotated between ignoring him, drugs, and clinging to him?
He heard the used needle clatter to the floor in the silence as he guiltily took all of the comfort the Mexican so freely offered. And hearing Goddard whining as he swept it up and away only served to remind Jimmy that, in a few hours, his mind would clear of the haze and sweep him away in the river of ideas.
Fandom: Jimmy Neutron
Genre: AU, Angst
Couple(s): Sheen/Jimmy
Warning(s): Drug usage
Fic Status: Complete
Summary: Which did he prefer -- mental stimulation, drugs, or love?
Notes: Challenge #8 (Drowning) from Set B from 10_hiddenrealms. More usage of the professions mentioned in "The Tomorrow Boys". I'm so lazy. And, yes, that's Carl's ranch that I invented in It's Not Really Adultery, only these guys were never married and had always lived on the ranch of awesome. Yes, I plan to exploit said ranch to my heart's content.
Oh, and addict!Jimmy? I blame soulful and our chats together.
“Again?” came the wearied but pitying Mexican accent.
Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, wanting his boyfriend to disappear and come back in an hour or two when the morphine had worn off. It’s a lower dose than normal, so he’ll be back on his feet sooner than when he usually injects the substance into his bloodstream.
He heard a whine and knew how Sheen learned of what he’d been doing. And, holy Heisenberg, couldn’t they leave him be? He just needed a little peace and quiet, just a few moments when his constantly raging thoughts vanished into the gauze-like haze and he felt like a human being as opposed to a constantly calculating, biological machine.
Every passing year, his mental activity increased, driving him to the vast complex beneath the ranch to work later and later on new inventions and countless experiments. His productivity was up but only because his mind wouldn’t let him rest. What if he added that solvent? How about tweaking this machine? And theorem after theorem after theorem after theorem!
Not even when he was awarded his Nobel Prizes was he given rest. During his speeches, his mind whirred on, already reanalyzing old data for the trillionth time and cross-referencing it with anything new learned to see if it could use that. Yet somehow he never had a headache from it all. Just the constant flow of ideas like a continuous Brain Blast that drove him to exhaustion.
The morphine stopped it temporarily. He could relax and not have to worry about inventions or experiments. He could actually sleep uninterrupted. If he felt overwhelmed by the constant analysis and re-analysis, just a quick prick, and he got a few hours of peace.
The Mexican model sat down beside him on their bed and wrapped his arms around him. The scientist tried to pull away, but his movements were sluggish thanks to the drug.
Sheen sighed. “Got here late.”
His boyfriend didn’t like it when he used the needle, begging Jimmy to come to him if he needed a “brain break”. The genius did sometimes but despised having to lean on Sheen so much. The other man had shoots he had to go to, a life he had to live. Besides, Jimmy wanted to deal with it himself. He’d fought aliens and evil geniuses. He could handle his own mind, right?
But as Sheen held him, hugging him tightly, Jimmy couldn’t be sure. He leaned his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder and shook, fighting back tears. He wanted to ask for forgiveness but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
What on earth could the model see in the broken scientist before him? Didn’t he see what a raw deal he was getting? He was funny, great in bed, and wonderful (most of the time) to be around. Sure, they’d been friends for years, but was it really worth the hassle of putting up with someone who rotated between ignoring him, drugs, and clinging to him?
He heard the used needle clatter to the floor in the silence as he guiltily took all of the comfort the Mexican so freely offered. And hearing Goddard whining as he swept it up and away only served to remind Jimmy that, in a few hours, his mind would clear of the haze and sweep him away in the river of ideas.