Crash
Title: Crash
Pairing: Nick Carter/Ewan McGregor (RANDOM)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not true. Plus, it sucks!
Nick ran his hands through his hair, worrying the strands into disarray and not caring about it either. He crossed his bedroom again, trampling the carpet for the dozenth time and not caring about that either.
It had been too long. Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't Ewan called? Why?
Nick was the type to worry and it was late on Friday and traffic was always dangerous at this hour and Nick couldn't seem to shut off his brain when he got worried.
He sighed, his chest collapsing as he exhaled, and rubbed his eyes, sure that they were bright red now. Walking to his bedside table, Nick pulled a cigarette from his pack of Marlboro Reds and lit it, inhaling and holding in the smoke, waiting for the drag to bring him a dizzy calm.
Falling onto his California king, Nick lay spread-eagle on the thick comforter and let his mind search the days that he and Ewan had spent together. He perused the older man's accent, hair, eyes, limbs. He considered all that had made him fall in love with Ewan.
The digital clock on his bedside table clicked away the minutes. It was four a.m. Finally, Nick decided to try calling Ewan.
"This is Ewan, please leave a message."
"Fuck." Nick was more worried now than ever. Lighting another cigarette, Nick picked up the remote for his television and fliped it on.
Footage of a three car crash was on the screen, and the anchor's voice brought a strangled howl from Nick's throat: "Movie star Ewan McGregor's car, along with two others, were involved in a fatal crash just moments ago; it seems that Mr. McGregor was on his way back from the bar, Moonshadow when the accident occured. There were no survivors. . . ."
Pairing: Nick Carter/Ewan McGregor (RANDOM)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not true. Plus, it sucks!
Nick ran his hands through his hair, worrying the strands into disarray and not caring about it either. He crossed his bedroom again, trampling the carpet for the dozenth time and not caring about that either.
It had been too long. Why hadn't he called? Why hadn't Ewan called? Why?
Nick was the type to worry and it was late on Friday and traffic was always dangerous at this hour and Nick couldn't seem to shut off his brain when he got worried.
He sighed, his chest collapsing as he exhaled, and rubbed his eyes, sure that they were bright red now. Walking to his bedside table, Nick pulled a cigarette from his pack of Marlboro Reds and lit it, inhaling and holding in the smoke, waiting for the drag to bring him a dizzy calm.
Falling onto his California king, Nick lay spread-eagle on the thick comforter and let his mind search the days that he and Ewan had spent together. He perused the older man's accent, hair, eyes, limbs. He considered all that had made him fall in love with Ewan.
The digital clock on his bedside table clicked away the minutes. It was four a.m. Finally, Nick decided to try calling Ewan.
"This is Ewan, please leave a message."
"Fuck." Nick was more worried now than ever. Lighting another cigarette, Nick picked up the remote for his television and fliped it on.
Footage of a three car crash was on the screen, and the anchor's voice brought a strangled howl from Nick's throat: "Movie star Ewan McGregor's car, along with two others, were involved in a fatal crash just moments ago; it seems that Mr. McGregor was on his way back from the bar, Moonshadow when the accident occured. There were no survivors. . . ."