New fic!
Guys, I'm just going to say it: this is Nick/Denise (aka: Nick/his mom) fic.
If that's not your thing I'd ask you to please scroll on past and, oh, haha, maybe don't defriend me over this, please? Thanks.
HOWEVER, if that IS your thing, please click the cut tag for fic and notes.
(haha - OH GOD. EVERY DAY I am reminded why it's a good thing to never say "Well, I'd never do THAT--" in fandom. SIGH.)
Ok, so, HAHA! Here's the thing. I was so not planning on writing this pairing. I swear, I wasn't! I mean, I love READING it, but had no desire to write it myself! Pretty much ever!
BUT. BUT THEN. Then last night I wrote something and in it there's this weird little conversation with Nick and his mom and it gets like, a little intense, ngl. And as I was writing it I was like, HUH. WEIRD. This is actually more an an effort for him NOT to hit on her than it would be to try and MAKE him hit on her. Which is again - WEIRD. But that fic is like, totally a Nick/Joe fic and there was NO PLACE for that kind of shenanigans there.
So today I wrote this.
Thanks to mediaville for looking it over and making me post it. When I am sad and lonely and friendless on the internets, I'm going to blame it all on her. THANKS, LADY!
Nick/Denise
Rating - adult
1650 words
*
Nick's by himself shopping when he buys the scarf. It's not anything like he's ever seen her wear; she's more of a basic black and denim kind of person and this is thin and flimsy silk, the softest thing he's ever touched. It's a rainbow of bright colors: glowing yellow and orange, bright purple and hot pink, all soft lines and curves, one color running into the the next like the most beautiful rainbow he's ever seen.
It's just - it's gorgeous. It's perfect, and the minute he sees it he knows he has to buy it. That she'd be so happy that he saw it and thought of her. How beautiful she'd look wearing it.
The sales girl smiles and blushes as she rings him up and when she asks if he wants it wrapped he says yes. He watches as she folds the scarf into a small sqaure, fitting it inside a gleaming white box.
"Do you need a card, sir?" the girl asks and Nick says no, shoves the receipt in his pocket and leaves.
When he gets home he finds a Sharpie in the kitchen drawer and scrawls across the top of the box:
To Mom,
Love -- Nick
He leaves it on the kitchen table for her to find when she gets home and heads up to his room.
*
She knocks at his door a few hours later, while Nick is sitting on the edge of his bed playing around with what he hopes is the beginning of a new song. He calls for her to come in and when she does Nick has to stop playing, puts the guitar down on the floor and just smile at her because she looks just so beautiful.
"Nick!" his mom says happily. She's grinning and holding the scarf in her hands, her fingers trailing lightly over the material. "What on earth is this for!"
Nick shrugs. He feels his face go hot and he looks down, plays with the hem of his t-shirt. "No reason. I just - it was pretty. I thought you'd like it."
"I do like it!" she beams. "I love it. It's just so..." she smiles again as she twirls the scarf around her neck, her dark hair getting caught up in it, streaking lines of black against the color. When she looks up again Nick notices that her face is flushed, color spreading high up on her cheekbones and dotting across the pale skin of her throat. Her eyes twinkle and Nick feels so good - so proud that he made her this happy he could practically explode.
"I've never had anything like it, ever," she tells him finally. She crosses the room and presses her lips to his forehead. Her hand is soft and warm when she brushes the curls away from his face. "It's perfect, baby. Thank you."
When she leaves she's still playing with the ends of the scarf and giggling quietly. Nick watches her go and stares at the doorway for a long, long time.
*
Nick can't stop thinking about it, is the thing. And not just about how beautiful she looked, because she did. He could tell that she genuinely loved the scarf and the fact that he bought it for her. But it was the idea that he could do something for her to make her smile like that that really stayed with him. That he - that Nick - was able to figure out something that she wanted, that she loved so much. Not his dad or some present that all of them chipped in together to get her, this was just from him for her. He was the one that made her that happy that day. He was the reason she was smiling and flushed so pretty like that. No one but him.
And that's the part Nick's having a hard time forgetting about.
*
It's like that day breaks something loose inside him. Nick still goes out, still does his thing - goes to work and hangs out with Joe and all the other things he's always done - but now whenever he's leaving he makes sure to tell his mom when he'll be home. He tries to check and see where she's going to be that day. Is she going out with friends or doing something with Frankie or just staying at home by herself. Their dad is away a lot, is all. More often that not Nick's the man of the house now and it's not something he's going to take lightly. He doesn't want to take it lightly.
He watches her more now, too. The way she moves and talks and laughs. He feels like he never noticed how young she looks. How sometimes she looks so much more like a girl than his mom. Maybe it's because he's finally started to fill out and now and can easily lean his chin on the top of her head, can curl one arm around her and pull her up close in a hug easier than he ever could before. He doesn't know why, it's just...different.
And he can tell that she likes it when he checks up on her. Almost like he's taking care of her for a change instead of the other way around. She smiles at him, shakes her head and pats his hair or shoulder or back. She says, "Thank you, Nick," and "you're such a good boy," and "you're so good to me."
Nick doesn't take that lightly either.
*
It's late when he gets home from shooting for the day. The sun is already setting and the house is quiet when he lets himself in. He knows his dad is still in New York on business, and Frankie is at a sleepover party at his friends house for the weekend, so Nick takes the stairs two at a time and heads to his parents' room to see if his mom wants to order in some takeout for the two of them, maybe get a movie to watch for the night.
Her bedroom door pushes open slowly under his fingertips and Nick just stares.
It's not even like he can see anything; there's basically nothing for him to see. She's dressed like normal, in a scoopneck t-shirt and jeans, a pair of boots pulled on high over the denim and up to her knees. Her hair is down and a little messy and she's smiling at herself in the mirror, twisting the scarf he gave her around her shoulders and neck.
The colors stand out so bright against the black of her shirt, the darkness of her hair. Her face is flushed and Nick can't stop the thoughts that flood into his brain: what would she look like if he kissed her, if he touched her. Would her skin be as warm under his hands as it looks. What would she feel like if he could feel under her shirt, curl his fingers around the silk of the scarf and tug it down. Would her neck and chest be as pink as he remembered.
He closes the door with a click and hears her call his name but pretends he doesn't.
It's like once he thinks about it, Nick can't get it out of his head. He closes his own door behind him and sinks onto the edge of the bed, yanking his belt open and dragging his jeans down his hips. He's hard already, and he just - he just needs to get off quick. Rub one out really fast because as long as he doesn't think about it too long, or too much, it's still ok. It's just--god, she's so beautiful, so perfect, and sometimes Nick thinks about things that maybe he shouldn't. He thinks about what it would be like to kiss her, to touch her--god. He wonders what her mouth tastes like. What she would do if he just walked up to her and twisted his fingers in the back of her hair and tugged. She would totally like it. She would love it, even. Nick's sure of it.
His dick is thick and hot in his hand and he's already leaking all over his fingers. He pushes up, snaps his hips and cock up and into his fist and thinks about how much better this would feel if it was her. If it was her hand, her fingers curled tight around him. He could put his face in her hair, breathe her in and have her touching him, have her right there - right there when he--
"Nick, are you--Oh! Oh, I'm sorry--"
The door swings open and oh god, Nick doubles over because she's right there and it just makes it more real, makes him want her more and he doesn't even know what to do with that. He lets out a low moan and twists his head so his face is pressing into his shoulder because now she's asking if he's ok, if everything is all right and if he looks at her, if she thinks something's wrong and comes over--
"Nick, please," she says from so close. She's right in front of him and when she puts her hands on his knees he shudders, jerks under her touch. His dick spurts a little out again and he just--he needs to--
"Mom, please," he whines. He feels her fingers in his hair and then she's pulling him close, holding him against her chest and making quiet sshing sounds as she pats his head and touches his face. Her soft belly presses where she's kneeling between his legs, and Nick breathes, "Mom, please--don't make me stop," and she whispers, "No, baby," and "it's ok," and "I'm here. I'm right here."
-END-
If that's not your thing I'd ask you to please scroll on past and, oh, haha, maybe don't defriend me over this, please? Thanks.
HOWEVER, if that IS your thing, please click the cut tag for fic and notes.
(haha - OH GOD. EVERY DAY I am reminded why it's a good thing to never say "Well, I'd never do THAT--" in fandom. SIGH.)
Ok, so, HAHA! Here's the thing. I was so not planning on writing this pairing. I swear, I wasn't! I mean, I love READING it, but had no desire to write it myself! Pretty much ever!
BUT. BUT THEN. Then last night I wrote something and in it there's this weird little conversation with Nick and his mom and it gets like, a little intense, ngl. And as I was writing it I was like, HUH. WEIRD. This is actually more an an effort for him NOT to hit on her than it would be to try and MAKE him hit on her. Which is again - WEIRD. But that fic is like, totally a Nick/Joe fic and there was NO PLACE for that kind of shenanigans there.
So today I wrote this.
Thanks to mediaville for looking it over and making me post it. When I am sad and lonely and friendless on the internets, I'm going to blame it all on her. THANKS, LADY!
Nick/Denise
Rating - adult
1650 words
*
Nick's by himself shopping when he buys the scarf. It's not anything like he's ever seen her wear; she's more of a basic black and denim kind of person and this is thin and flimsy silk, the softest thing he's ever touched. It's a rainbow of bright colors: glowing yellow and orange, bright purple and hot pink, all soft lines and curves, one color running into the the next like the most beautiful rainbow he's ever seen.
It's just - it's gorgeous. It's perfect, and the minute he sees it he knows he has to buy it. That she'd be so happy that he saw it and thought of her. How beautiful she'd look wearing it.
The sales girl smiles and blushes as she rings him up and when she asks if he wants it wrapped he says yes. He watches as she folds the scarf into a small sqaure, fitting it inside a gleaming white box.
"Do you need a card, sir?" the girl asks and Nick says no, shoves the receipt in his pocket and leaves.
When he gets home he finds a Sharpie in the kitchen drawer and scrawls across the top of the box:
To Mom,
Love -- Nick
He leaves it on the kitchen table for her to find when she gets home and heads up to his room.
*
She knocks at his door a few hours later, while Nick is sitting on the edge of his bed playing around with what he hopes is the beginning of a new song. He calls for her to come in and when she does Nick has to stop playing, puts the guitar down on the floor and just smile at her because she looks just so beautiful.
"Nick!" his mom says happily. She's grinning and holding the scarf in her hands, her fingers trailing lightly over the material. "What on earth is this for!"
Nick shrugs. He feels his face go hot and he looks down, plays with the hem of his t-shirt. "No reason. I just - it was pretty. I thought you'd like it."
"I do like it!" she beams. "I love it. It's just so..." she smiles again as she twirls the scarf around her neck, her dark hair getting caught up in it, streaking lines of black against the color. When she looks up again Nick notices that her face is flushed, color spreading high up on her cheekbones and dotting across the pale skin of her throat. Her eyes twinkle and Nick feels so good - so proud that he made her this happy he could practically explode.
"I've never had anything like it, ever," she tells him finally. She crosses the room and presses her lips to his forehead. Her hand is soft and warm when she brushes the curls away from his face. "It's perfect, baby. Thank you."
When she leaves she's still playing with the ends of the scarf and giggling quietly. Nick watches her go and stares at the doorway for a long, long time.
*
Nick can't stop thinking about it, is the thing. And not just about how beautiful she looked, because she did. He could tell that she genuinely loved the scarf and the fact that he bought it for her. But it was the idea that he could do something for her to make her smile like that that really stayed with him. That he - that Nick - was able to figure out something that she wanted, that she loved so much. Not his dad or some present that all of them chipped in together to get her, this was just from him for her. He was the one that made her that happy that day. He was the reason she was smiling and flushed so pretty like that. No one but him.
And that's the part Nick's having a hard time forgetting about.
*
It's like that day breaks something loose inside him. Nick still goes out, still does his thing - goes to work and hangs out with Joe and all the other things he's always done - but now whenever he's leaving he makes sure to tell his mom when he'll be home. He tries to check and see where she's going to be that day. Is she going out with friends or doing something with Frankie or just staying at home by herself. Their dad is away a lot, is all. More often that not Nick's the man of the house now and it's not something he's going to take lightly. He doesn't want to take it lightly.
He watches her more now, too. The way she moves and talks and laughs. He feels like he never noticed how young she looks. How sometimes she looks so much more like a girl than his mom. Maybe it's because he's finally started to fill out and now and can easily lean his chin on the top of her head, can curl one arm around her and pull her up close in a hug easier than he ever could before. He doesn't know why, it's just...different.
And he can tell that she likes it when he checks up on her. Almost like he's taking care of her for a change instead of the other way around. She smiles at him, shakes her head and pats his hair or shoulder or back. She says, "Thank you, Nick," and "you're such a good boy," and "you're so good to me."
Nick doesn't take that lightly either.
*
It's late when he gets home from shooting for the day. The sun is already setting and the house is quiet when he lets himself in. He knows his dad is still in New York on business, and Frankie is at a sleepover party at his friends house for the weekend, so Nick takes the stairs two at a time and heads to his parents' room to see if his mom wants to order in some takeout for the two of them, maybe get a movie to watch for the night.
Her bedroom door pushes open slowly under his fingertips and Nick just stares.
It's not even like he can see anything; there's basically nothing for him to see. She's dressed like normal, in a scoopneck t-shirt and jeans, a pair of boots pulled on high over the denim and up to her knees. Her hair is down and a little messy and she's smiling at herself in the mirror, twisting the scarf he gave her around her shoulders and neck.
The colors stand out so bright against the black of her shirt, the darkness of her hair. Her face is flushed and Nick can't stop the thoughts that flood into his brain: what would she look like if he kissed her, if he touched her. Would her skin be as warm under his hands as it looks. What would she feel like if he could feel under her shirt, curl his fingers around the silk of the scarf and tug it down. Would her neck and chest be as pink as he remembered.
He closes the door with a click and hears her call his name but pretends he doesn't.
It's like once he thinks about it, Nick can't get it out of his head. He closes his own door behind him and sinks onto the edge of the bed, yanking his belt open and dragging his jeans down his hips. He's hard already, and he just - he just needs to get off quick. Rub one out really fast because as long as he doesn't think about it too long, or too much, it's still ok. It's just--god, she's so beautiful, so perfect, and sometimes Nick thinks about things that maybe he shouldn't. He thinks about what it would be like to kiss her, to touch her--god. He wonders what her mouth tastes like. What she would do if he just walked up to her and twisted his fingers in the back of her hair and tugged. She would totally like it. She would love it, even. Nick's sure of it.
His dick is thick and hot in his hand and he's already leaking all over his fingers. He pushes up, snaps his hips and cock up and into his fist and thinks about how much better this would feel if it was her. If it was her hand, her fingers curled tight around him. He could put his face in her hair, breathe her in and have her touching him, have her right there - right there when he--
"Nick, are you--Oh! Oh, I'm sorry--"
The door swings open and oh god, Nick doubles over because she's right there and it just makes it more real, makes him want her more and he doesn't even know what to do with that. He lets out a low moan and twists his head so his face is pressing into his shoulder because now she's asking if he's ok, if everything is all right and if he looks at her, if she thinks something's wrong and comes over--
"Nick, please," she says from so close. She's right in front of him and when she puts her hands on his knees he shudders, jerks under her touch. His dick spurts a little out again and he just--he needs to--
"Mom, please," he whines. He feels her fingers in his hair and then she's pulling him close, holding him against her chest and making quiet sshing sounds as she pats his head and touches his face. Her soft belly presses where she's kneeling between his legs, and Nick breathes, "Mom, please--don't make me stop," and she whispers, "No, baby," and "it's ok," and "I'm here. I'm right here."
-END-