Fic thing that I'm not too sure on....
Hey, it was REALLY late at night when I wrote it and I don't have time right now to do anything with it.
Still not real comfortable with the whole community thing and I wanna make sure it's okay before I post it. I think I got a liiiittle off topic. But the first thing I could think of when looking at a blue tub was that Nikki and Skylar so need to have that in their shitty apartment. They end up in the bathroom a lot - which is a long story and not nearly as kinky as it sounds. So yeah, this is more of a character study that a good response to the picture......::snoggles Nikki and Skylar::
Um, this might make absolutely no sense unless you've read my latest unfinished attempt at the novel-that-would-not-be-written - The Silent Killer
“What are you doing?”
Skylar paused. The brush in his hand slowly continued in its stroke, the bristles sliding one by one down as gravity straightened them out. “Um. I’m painting.”
Nikki frowned. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning against the door frame. Technically, this was his apartment. He might not be too happy with Skylar’s impulsive artistic expression. “You’re painting.”
Skylar nodded and grinned quickly. He was sitting Indian style on the creaky water-stained wood floor of the bathroom, large ungainly paint brush in one hand and can of bright blue industrial paint to one side.
“The tub. You’re painting the tub.”
Skylar stared back at Nikki for a moment before turning to inspect his work. “Yep.”
“Why?”
Skylar shrugged and nervously stroked the brush up and down a few times for good measure. “I dunno. Guess I was bored.”
“I’ve seen your room. You have a blanket nailed over the window, and a table made up of old crates and a cracked piece of plywood and you’re painting the tub?”
Skylar scowled a little. It wasn’t his fault his room looked like that. He wasn’t used to living in one place very long. There had never been much of a pint before in settling in anywhere. “But a blue tub is going to look awesome!” he reassured Nikki before pointedly plunking his brush back into it paint can and slathering another layer of blue on.
Nikki just watched him silently, never commenting or judging. After a couple more clumsy strokes, he spoke up softly. “Where did the paint come from?”
Skylar winced. “I may have sort of borrowed it from work.”
“Borrowed.”
“Yep, borrowed.” Skylar didn’t look up. He wasn’t sure how Nikki would take that and he wasn’t very eager to find out. The guy seemed pretty laid back, but they hadn’t been roommates very long. Skylar didn’t really know much of anything about him, and Nikki wasn’t exactly forth coming with information.
Finally Nikki sighed. “Just don’t get it on my white walls. Pollock painted them for me. He would be very displeased.”
Skylar winced again before quickly flashing a bright smile over his shoulder. “Right. Got it. No paint on the walls or freaky bastard will not be happy. I’m all for avoiding that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even from down the hall and in his room, Nikki could hear the door being open and closed. The locks alone screeched and groaned whenever they were being forced from one position to the other. The door itself rattled in its frame no matter how softly it was closed. The floorboards each had their own distinct whine as they bended and arched beneath a gorwn man’s weight. The shuffling stumble was expected. The bathroom light spilled into his room from across the hall and under his door.
With a sigh, Nikki sat up. He ignored the rest of the noises coming from across the hall as he moved to open his door. The smell could have been recognized anywhere. He edged the bathroom door open and stared at the mess of a man laying on his bathroom floor, hovering sickly by the toilet’s brim.
It was the third time that week and it was only Wednesday. Skylar had work in the morning. But that didn’t stop him from groaning and throwing up once more. Above the acid scent of digestive fluid was the acid scent of tequila and the sour stench of whiskey.
“Skylar?” Nikki asked quietly.
“”m be a’righ’. I - I prom-ise.”
Not too drunk then. Nikki was familiar with drunks in general, and had learned the particularities of Skylar’s inebriation after only a couple of weeks. If he was answering questions, he wasn’t in danger of poisoning himself.
Normally Nikki would leave then. There was nothing for him to fix and normally nothing he felt like doing. But instead he drifted down to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a damp towel, both of which he sat gently down beside Skylar’s head. The other young man seemed done for the moment and was laying curled on his side on the bathroom floor.
“I like our blue tub,” Skylar slurred out carefully, placing each word with thoughtfully deliberation, one in front of another. “It reminds me of the ocean.”
Nikki’s memories of the ocean were from his childhood and dim and meaningless. As he sat down on the cold bathroom floor and leaned back against the wall he stared at their now blue bath tub. It was, perhaps, the saddest ocean he’d ever seen - and he was unexpectedly glad it was theirs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sit. Strip.”
It was not a difficult command to follow. The first part was accomplished easily enough. Despite whatever shortcomings the apartment might have, the bathroom was spacious, giving Nikki all the room he needed for any of his work. Pollock, however, was currently limited in his range of motion, making the second part of the command more difficult to obey. Something had torn across the back of his left shoulder and the blood had already seeped through enough of his shirt for it to stubbornly cling.
“The shirt is already ruined,” he commented quietly as he let his body slowly relax. The edge of the archaic bathtub was hardly comfortable but it was reliably steady. It had been a long night. Just having something stable to lean against was welcoming at this point. Tonight’s job had been simple in that it had been an assassination but costly in that it had placed him across from other mercenaries. Nothing as dangerously well trained as Reven’s men. Pollock had learned quickly that Reven was a colleague better kept as relative ally than an opponent. Pollock’s men had still been outnumbered on this job, and that difference had made itself known. The profit margin, however, was appropriately reflected in the degree of difficulty. Leaving Pollock with a torn back and another victory.
He watched as Nikki carefully set out along the edge of the sink everything he would need to sew Pollock back together. It was done with the effortless precision of years of practice. A lifetime spent putting back together the broken of society and keeping alive the most desperate of the poor. Long fingered hands delicately laid out each tool and material as his thin back arched over his work. The hanging light bulb still swayed overhead, making the shadows jump and the outline of shapes flash.
“You’ve lost weight again,” Pollock commented into the silence.
“I had a relapse. Two weeks ago.” Nikki turned to him, steel scissors in one hand and eyes focus solely on the work ahead of him. He barely had to lean down at all before setting to work cutting the shirt off.
Pollock raised his right hand and carefully slid it under Nikki’s arm and down his side. He was looking for flesh and counting ribs. “How bad?”
Nikki peeled back a section and reached for a damp towel to clean off the blood. “I had to shut down the clinic for three days.”
Pollock frowned. Bed ridden for three days. “Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
Nikki shifted further to the left, moving himself out of Pollock’s reach. Withdrawing. Putting an end to the conversation. It wasn’t Pollock’s right to pry. Regardless of what other rights Pollock might enjoy. Nikki’s illness was to remain to Nikki alone and was to be endured alone.
Pollock said nothing more. There was nothing to be said that had not already been said. While Nikki poked and cleaned and pulled his skin back together, Pollock looked down and stared at his empty right hand. The light had steadied enough for Nikki to work by. The faded bloodstains of previous patients stained the hardwood floors despite Nikki’s meticulous cleaning. Some of that old blood was Pollock’s. Much more of it belonged to strangers. The white walls stood in sharp contrast to the stains, but the age and deprivation of the wood paneling was still the same - just hidden under a fresh coat of white paint.
Pollock tilted his head. “Your tub is blue.”
There was a moment of silence, then Nikki’s breath ghosted warmly along his now bare shoulder. “Yes, it is.”
It hadn’t been. Pollock had secured this apartment for Nikki. He had inspected it thoroughly beforehand. Had painted these white walls himself. Had been in and out as a patient many a time before. Had even been there one or twice when he hadn’t been broken or torn but had come for something else.
The bathtub had never been blue before. It served no purpose to paint the tub, much less to paint it blue.
“Why did you paint it?”
“I didn’t.”
Pollock turned his head slowly until he could see the young man’s face. Nikki’s eyes were focused solely on the work in front of him, but there was something softer about his eyes and his mouth. “Then who did?” Pollock replied carefully.
“Skylar.”
The new roommate. The favor Reven asked for. Some place safe for an old friend to stay.
Pollock snorted. “I am surprised he was ever sober enough to do so.”
Nikki’s mouth curved gently up into almost a smile. “His sobriety was probably debatable.”
“Has he caused you any trouble?”
“No, no more than any one else ever has,” Nikki answered before tugging slightly on the thread he was currently running through Pollock’s skin. “His reasons may be a little different than yours as to why. I don’t believe there is any point in the fights he gets into beyond being in a fight.”
Pollock frowned. He had both worked with and against Reven numerous times. The man was a prodigy. His capability and reliability had earned him Pollock’s respect. His reputation had earned him the murderous fury of everyone else. A stumbling, drunkard of a childhood friend had been an unexpected liability that Pollock still did not understand. But Nikki had immediately agreed when Reven had asked him. And Pollock had every reason to agree to anything that meant Nikki wasn’t left alone.
“He has his moments, you know,” Nikki commented over the sound of tearing surgical tape as he finished securing a bandage over the wound. “When he’s not drunk or hung over. I can see what he means to Reven.” Nikki sat down carefully beside Pollock, one arm pressed against Pollock’s side while the other hand traced over the uneven painting along the outside of the tub. “He said he was bored, but he seemed very serious about the whole matter. He stole the paint from work. Said the room needed something colorful if I was going to be working in here so much and since he spends so much time hugging the toilet.” Nikki paused for a moment. “It was about a week ago. He’d been drinking more. Nearly poisoned himself on more than one occasion. Painting the tub seemed to distract him for some reason. It was better afterward.”
Nikki was sitting on Pollock’s bad side, so he had to content himself with simply watching him. “You like him.” It was usual for Nikki to develop an interest in why his patients were broken beyond how to fix the immediate problem. He didn’t concern himself with the issues beyond that.
“Yes. I like Reven too.” Nikki shifted to absently brush the back of his fingers against Pollock’s bare arm. “There’s something about the two of them. They have nothing in common, but there’s something about them that’s so perfectly complimentary. Despite the distance between them. Like they can’t help but be connected somehow.”
“Reven’s hiding something. I don’t like it.”
Nikki sighed. “He’s allowed his secrets. I’m not going to pry. Neither of them pry into mine, after all. Even when I was sick again, Skylar didn’t ask for anything other than if I wanted any help.”
Pollock wasn’t jealous. He didn’t have anything to be jealous of. But he was aware of something shifting. There was going to be a new space now that he would have to accept as a part of Nikki’s life and hence as a part of his own.
“Besides,” Nikki continued. “I think I’m starting to like the tub being blue. Maybe we needed a little change.”
Still not real comfortable with the whole community thing and I wanna make sure it's okay before I post it. I think I got a liiiittle off topic. But the first thing I could think of when looking at a blue tub was that Nikki and Skylar so need to have that in their shitty apartment. They end up in the bathroom a lot - which is a long story and not nearly as kinky as it sounds. So yeah, this is more of a character study that a good response to the picture......::snoggles Nikki and Skylar::
Um, this might make absolutely no sense unless you've read my latest unfinished attempt at the novel-that-would-not-be-written - The Silent Killer
“What are you doing?”
Skylar paused. The brush in his hand slowly continued in its stroke, the bristles sliding one by one down as gravity straightened them out. “Um. I’m painting.”
Nikki frowned. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was leaning against the door frame. Technically, this was his apartment. He might not be too happy with Skylar’s impulsive artistic expression. “You’re painting.”
Skylar nodded and grinned quickly. He was sitting Indian style on the creaky water-stained wood floor of the bathroom, large ungainly paint brush in one hand and can of bright blue industrial paint to one side.
“The tub. You’re painting the tub.”
Skylar stared back at Nikki for a moment before turning to inspect his work. “Yep.”
“Why?”
Skylar shrugged and nervously stroked the brush up and down a few times for good measure. “I dunno. Guess I was bored.”
“I’ve seen your room. You have a blanket nailed over the window, and a table made up of old crates and a cracked piece of plywood and you’re painting the tub?”
Skylar scowled a little. It wasn’t his fault his room looked like that. He wasn’t used to living in one place very long. There had never been much of a pint before in settling in anywhere. “But a blue tub is going to look awesome!” he reassured Nikki before pointedly plunking his brush back into it paint can and slathering another layer of blue on.
Nikki just watched him silently, never commenting or judging. After a couple more clumsy strokes, he spoke up softly. “Where did the paint come from?”
Skylar winced. “I may have sort of borrowed it from work.”
“Borrowed.”
“Yep, borrowed.” Skylar didn’t look up. He wasn’t sure how Nikki would take that and he wasn’t very eager to find out. The guy seemed pretty laid back, but they hadn’t been roommates very long. Skylar didn’t really know much of anything about him, and Nikki wasn’t exactly forth coming with information.
Finally Nikki sighed. “Just don’t get it on my white walls. Pollock painted them for me. He would be very displeased.”
Skylar winced again before quickly flashing a bright smile over his shoulder. “Right. Got it. No paint on the walls or freaky bastard will not be happy. I’m all for avoiding that.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even from down the hall and in his room, Nikki could hear the door being open and closed. The locks alone screeched and groaned whenever they were being forced from one position to the other. The door itself rattled in its frame no matter how softly it was closed. The floorboards each had their own distinct whine as they bended and arched beneath a gorwn man’s weight. The shuffling stumble was expected. The bathroom light spilled into his room from across the hall and under his door.
With a sigh, Nikki sat up. He ignored the rest of the noises coming from across the hall as he moved to open his door. The smell could have been recognized anywhere. He edged the bathroom door open and stared at the mess of a man laying on his bathroom floor, hovering sickly by the toilet’s brim.
It was the third time that week and it was only Wednesday. Skylar had work in the morning. But that didn’t stop him from groaning and throwing up once more. Above the acid scent of digestive fluid was the acid scent of tequila and the sour stench of whiskey.
“Skylar?” Nikki asked quietly.
“”m be a’righ’. I - I prom-ise.”
Not too drunk then. Nikki was familiar with drunks in general, and had learned the particularities of Skylar’s inebriation after only a couple of weeks. If he was answering questions, he wasn’t in danger of poisoning himself.
Normally Nikki would leave then. There was nothing for him to fix and normally nothing he felt like doing. But instead he drifted down to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water and a damp towel, both of which he sat gently down beside Skylar’s head. The other young man seemed done for the moment and was laying curled on his side on the bathroom floor.
“I like our blue tub,” Skylar slurred out carefully, placing each word with thoughtfully deliberation, one in front of another. “It reminds me of the ocean.”
Nikki’s memories of the ocean were from his childhood and dim and meaningless. As he sat down on the cold bathroom floor and leaned back against the wall he stared at their now blue bath tub. It was, perhaps, the saddest ocean he’d ever seen - and he was unexpectedly glad it was theirs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Sit. Strip.”
It was not a difficult command to follow. The first part was accomplished easily enough. Despite whatever shortcomings the apartment might have, the bathroom was spacious, giving Nikki all the room he needed for any of his work. Pollock, however, was currently limited in his range of motion, making the second part of the command more difficult to obey. Something had torn across the back of his left shoulder and the blood had already seeped through enough of his shirt for it to stubbornly cling.
“The shirt is already ruined,” he commented quietly as he let his body slowly relax. The edge of the archaic bathtub was hardly comfortable but it was reliably steady. It had been a long night. Just having something stable to lean against was welcoming at this point. Tonight’s job had been simple in that it had been an assassination but costly in that it had placed him across from other mercenaries. Nothing as dangerously well trained as Reven’s men. Pollock had learned quickly that Reven was a colleague better kept as relative ally than an opponent. Pollock’s men had still been outnumbered on this job, and that difference had made itself known. The profit margin, however, was appropriately reflected in the degree of difficulty. Leaving Pollock with a torn back and another victory.
He watched as Nikki carefully set out along the edge of the sink everything he would need to sew Pollock back together. It was done with the effortless precision of years of practice. A lifetime spent putting back together the broken of society and keeping alive the most desperate of the poor. Long fingered hands delicately laid out each tool and material as his thin back arched over his work. The hanging light bulb still swayed overhead, making the shadows jump and the outline of shapes flash.
“You’ve lost weight again,” Pollock commented into the silence.
“I had a relapse. Two weeks ago.” Nikki turned to him, steel scissors in one hand and eyes focus solely on the work ahead of him. He barely had to lean down at all before setting to work cutting the shirt off.
Pollock raised his right hand and carefully slid it under Nikki’s arm and down his side. He was looking for flesh and counting ribs. “How bad?”
Nikki peeled back a section and reached for a damp towel to clean off the blood. “I had to shut down the clinic for three days.”
Pollock frowned. Bed ridden for three days. “Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
Nikki shifted further to the left, moving himself out of Pollock’s reach. Withdrawing. Putting an end to the conversation. It wasn’t Pollock’s right to pry. Regardless of what other rights Pollock might enjoy. Nikki’s illness was to remain to Nikki alone and was to be endured alone.
Pollock said nothing more. There was nothing to be said that had not already been said. While Nikki poked and cleaned and pulled his skin back together, Pollock looked down and stared at his empty right hand. The light had steadied enough for Nikki to work by. The faded bloodstains of previous patients stained the hardwood floors despite Nikki’s meticulous cleaning. Some of that old blood was Pollock’s. Much more of it belonged to strangers. The white walls stood in sharp contrast to the stains, but the age and deprivation of the wood paneling was still the same - just hidden under a fresh coat of white paint.
Pollock tilted his head. “Your tub is blue.”
There was a moment of silence, then Nikki’s breath ghosted warmly along his now bare shoulder. “Yes, it is.”
It hadn’t been. Pollock had secured this apartment for Nikki. He had inspected it thoroughly beforehand. Had painted these white walls himself. Had been in and out as a patient many a time before. Had even been there one or twice when he hadn’t been broken or torn but had come for something else.
The bathtub had never been blue before. It served no purpose to paint the tub, much less to paint it blue.
“Why did you paint it?”
“I didn’t.”
Pollock turned his head slowly until he could see the young man’s face. Nikki’s eyes were focused solely on the work in front of him, but there was something softer about his eyes and his mouth. “Then who did?” Pollock replied carefully.
“Skylar.”
The new roommate. The favor Reven asked for. Some place safe for an old friend to stay.
Pollock snorted. “I am surprised he was ever sober enough to do so.”
Nikki’s mouth curved gently up into almost a smile. “His sobriety was probably debatable.”
“Has he caused you any trouble?”
“No, no more than any one else ever has,” Nikki answered before tugging slightly on the thread he was currently running through Pollock’s skin. “His reasons may be a little different than yours as to why. I don’t believe there is any point in the fights he gets into beyond being in a fight.”
Pollock frowned. He had both worked with and against Reven numerous times. The man was a prodigy. His capability and reliability had earned him Pollock’s respect. His reputation had earned him the murderous fury of everyone else. A stumbling, drunkard of a childhood friend had been an unexpected liability that Pollock still did not understand. But Nikki had immediately agreed when Reven had asked him. And Pollock had every reason to agree to anything that meant Nikki wasn’t left alone.
“He has his moments, you know,” Nikki commented over the sound of tearing surgical tape as he finished securing a bandage over the wound. “When he’s not drunk or hung over. I can see what he means to Reven.” Nikki sat down carefully beside Pollock, one arm pressed against Pollock’s side while the other hand traced over the uneven painting along the outside of the tub. “He said he was bored, but he seemed very serious about the whole matter. He stole the paint from work. Said the room needed something colorful if I was going to be working in here so much and since he spends so much time hugging the toilet.” Nikki paused for a moment. “It was about a week ago. He’d been drinking more. Nearly poisoned himself on more than one occasion. Painting the tub seemed to distract him for some reason. It was better afterward.”
Nikki was sitting on Pollock’s bad side, so he had to content himself with simply watching him. “You like him.” It was usual for Nikki to develop an interest in why his patients were broken beyond how to fix the immediate problem. He didn’t concern himself with the issues beyond that.
“Yes. I like Reven too.” Nikki shifted to absently brush the back of his fingers against Pollock’s bare arm. “There’s something about the two of them. They have nothing in common, but there’s something about them that’s so perfectly complimentary. Despite the distance between them. Like they can’t help but be connected somehow.”
“Reven’s hiding something. I don’t like it.”
Nikki sighed. “He’s allowed his secrets. I’m not going to pry. Neither of them pry into mine, after all. Even when I was sick again, Skylar didn’t ask for anything other than if I wanted any help.”
Pollock wasn’t jealous. He didn’t have anything to be jealous of. But he was aware of something shifting. There was going to be a new space now that he would have to accept as a part of Nikki’s life and hence as a part of his own.
“Besides,” Nikki continued. “I think I’m starting to like the tub being blue. Maybe we needed a little change.”