Just For One Thing
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17, more for later chapters
Spoilers: Mild
Disclaimer: Owned by Jerry Bruckheimer, as is everything else in the world. I also don't own Finger Eleven's "One Thing".
Author's Note: So this is my first post to this site and this community, but certainly not my first FF, nor my first shot at smuttiness. If you feel so inclined, review and tell me what you think! The next chapter will be up soon.
If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Wouldn’t that be something?
Bodies crashing, moans filling the air, sweat dripping of each other’s bodies and onto the receiving participant, lips tasting skin and skin rising with gooseflesh.
He should have felt something, anything, but he didn’t. Not a thing. In fact, he was subconsciously writing his grocery list.
“Nick, oh God, Nick!”
Eggs, milk, cheese…
“Nick, YES!”
Fresh fruit, canned olives, frozen pizzas…
“Yes, yes, yesohGod, yes!”
One six-pack of beer, a couple boxes of cereal…
“Baby, God, baby, I’m coming!”
Yogurt, wheat bread…
“Oh, I love you, Nick!”
Fuck. Oh no. There she was moaning and writhing underneath him and she just said that. Don’t panic, man, He thought to himself. Just say it back, you don’t have to mean it, just say it back.
“I should go. I have to be at work early.”
Now he was in trouble. Karen’s breathing was barely returning to normal, her heart rate barely stabilizing. She was lying next to him on her double bed with bright red sheets, and for God’s sake she’d just told him she loved him. He was an asshole, he knew it, he was going to Hell without a stop at Purgatory.
He disposed of the latex sheath. Thank the Lord for condoms and their ability to hide what is or is not in them. He removed himself slowly from the bed, gathering his jeans and faded T-shirt in the process. He didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare look at Karen’s face. He dreaded what he might see there; disgust, embarrassment, disappointment, he hated this experiment. He snuck out the front door and walked directly to his car, driving home to the safety of a place that knew his secrets.
He’d known since he was twelve. All his older brothers were constantly running their mouths about all the hot girls at school, all his sisters were already putting on makeup trying to impress all the football players and older boys and guys with cars. At first he just didn’t get it, thought he was not old enough to understand, that he’d grow into it and he would be just like his older brothers. But he didn’t. He didn’t have crushes on female teachers or notice the other girls, or want to find his father’s playboy. Instead he made quick glances at the other boys when they were changing in the gym lockers and stroked himself daily thinking about his math teacher, Mr. Simms.
He knew something wasn’t normal. It was Texas. Gay people didn’t exist, women liked men and men liked women and that was the way it was. Nick thought he was crazy, that he must have something terribly wrong with him. He tried to blame everything he could think of: His parents, his siblings, the incident with the babysitter when he was nine. He decided that he’d ignore it, maybe if he went along with everyone else, it would fade. So he played football, he dated girls, he built up a reputation as being the guy every girl wanted and every guy wanted to be. He lost his virginity at seventeen to a cheerleader, the way it was supposed to be. And even then, he knew he was faking it. He knew it wasn’t right, it didn’t feel the way it should have.
But he continued to ignore it. He built himself a career that made his family proud, and he lived, every day, knowing he was faking his life, his very essence, ninety percent of the time. It worked for him, he did what he had to do, he was positive no one suspected a thing. He had a perfect system of keeping himself privately, secretly, clandestinely happy. And it worked for a long time.
But for that Goddamn lab tech.
That crazy blonde hair, that huge personality, that awful taste in horrid music, the way he laughed, the way he smiled, the way he pulled results off the printer and handed them to Nick, everything made him shiver.
It was infuriating.
Infuriating in the sort of way that he’d considered transferring just to get away from that smell and that voice and, Goddamn, the way he was starring directly at Nick.
Greg was walking straight towards him, and Nick snapped back into character.
“What’s up, dude?” Greg asked, hitting Nick playfully in the shoulder. Nick wished he wouldn’t do that, it didn’t help things much.
“Noth-uh-nothing. Just got lost in thought there, man, sorry,” Nick answered, trying to remain composure.
“You sure? You look…worried, or something,” Greg said.
“No, just tired. Worked a double yesterday, you know,” Nick answered.
“Yeah, I know. I worked one last week. It messes you up, man. Well a bunch of us are going out for drinks later, want to come?” Greg seemed oblivious, thank God.
“Thanks G, but I’ve got plans.” Nick didn’t need to see Greg for any more time than was absolutely necessary, and there was no telling what might come out of his mouth after you got a few drinks into him.
“That’s cool, man. Going out with Karen again?” Greg gave Nick one of his famous smiles.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah. We’re going to see Cirque. She’s been wanting to for a while,” Nick responded, hoping his minor fumbling wasn’t noticeable.
“Well have fun, dude. See you around.”
Greg smiled and turned, walking away from Nick. Nick buried his head in his hands, ignoring the intrusive first signs of a headache behind his eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure what severe torture felt like, but he was pretty sure he was living it.