Cranberry #1
Author: Chex
Flavour: Cranberry 1 - The Fool
Story: Colours Don't Run
Title: No Difference To Me
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 990
Summary: Nick tries to figure out what's up with him and Adrian, and why he chooses to spend so much time with the dumbest clever guy he ever met.
Notes: Written with a much closer third-person than I usually do, and present tense...not sure it came out exactly as it was meant to though xD
Nikolaus can't understand how the kid does it. Christ, he thought Teresa talked too much, but Adrian just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. Always yapping, at his heels like a dog, with wide eyes eager to please.
You can kick a dog, but you can't kick Adrian.
At least, Nick never can. He used to try, once upon a time; he used to snarl and growl; he tried ignoring him, and he tried rudeness to his face.
The damn boy just kept coming back and coming back, and Nick couldn't see why. Eventually, him and his aggravatingly-charming accent became part of the damn scenery and you didn't even need to notice he was there anymore, with his motor-mouth going, going, always going. Eventually, you got used to catching sight of a reddish stalk of hair out of the corner of your eye, and freckles on his cheeks if you stared at his face too long (and Nick always stared at his face too long).
That didn't make living with him any easier. The talking, for instance, was still fucking annoying. It was like he didn't breathe; he certainly never stopped for you to answer a question, just kept running roughshod over you. And the sugar spoon. How many times did they fight over the sugar spoon?
It was, Nick thought to himself, a simple rule. One spoon for the sugar pot, one spoon in the tea. One spoon stayed dry, one spoon got wet. But apparently this was too much for Adrian, who showed no shred of concern for the abused cutlery.
What most people will tell you, is that Adrian does not strike them as terribly bright. In fact, that he is probably the most air-headed young man they had misfortune to meet - with his cheerful outlook and bouncy feet. Nick knows that isn't true.
Adrian studies hard every night, with his papers spread out across the dining room table and a pair of glasses jammed wonkily on his nose (he hates wearing contact lenses in the evening; he says it gives him a headache). Studying hard doesn't automatically make you a bright lad, but Nick knows from watching him that Adrian is actually very intelligent. Intelligent enough to pretend that he isn't.
He reads and writes very quickly, quicker than Nick - whose handwriting is so spidery as to be utterly illegible to humans, and certainly faster than Teresa - who still has to run her finger under the words to keep her place on the page.
Nick slumps next to him whenever this is going on, because it's better than the blaring television next door, and Teresa will only fucking talk at him, and Ute will be even worse because she's completely nuts. And neither of them have a reddish stalk of hair and freckles on their cheeks.
“So...do you not like it here?” he asks one time, resting his cheek on his arm, stretched out across the table and obscuring half of Adrian's papers.
The Irish boy looks up suddenly from his work, concerned and wide-eyed. “I'm sorry?”
Nick waves one hand vaguely at his mountain of books and sheets. “You're always studying for another test or exam. It's like you want to just keep getting promoted.”
Adrian's worry turns into a warm smile, and his shoulders relax. “It's nothing like that,” he says. “I'm just conscious of being weaker than everyone. More vulnerable, you know? I only want to make it so I'm not a...” Adrian pauses to find the right word. “Liability,” he finally settles on.
Nick nods, not sure what to say to that. Adrian's magic is in healing, and his combat training has left a lot to be desired (but then, there isn't much else to expect when you're taught by Teresa of all people, who can barely tell one end of a sword from another). But then, the day that Adrian shone, won his respect and everything else he deserved - Nick had been the weak one; Teresa had been vulnerable; and Robert was the huge fucking liability that nearly killed them all, and certainly killed himself.
“I think you do very well,” Nick says finally, slowly, like he's tasting words in his mouth before deciding to voice them. He touches his hand lightly to his stomach, tracing a line across the soft scar that sits along it. He remembers the day he watched his own guts tumble onto the floor, and how he was shakily trying to scoop them back into the gaping ragged hole, even whilst he bled to death. He remembers how the useless, naïve fool that had tagged along for the ride put his cool hands against Nick's skin, fixed his arms around his stomach, whispered something in his ear, and made everything all right again. Adrian nearly killed himself with that (should have killed himself, really) - and was pleasantly surprised to only suffer that coma.
Only go into a six week coma, and have to be dragged out again by Teresa and Ute and a whole lot of magic energy. That was a big 'only'.
“Actually,” Nick starts again, quietly, as Adrian has made shufflings to get back to his work. “Actually, I think you're excellent.”
Adrian misses the point completely. He's the cleverest boy Nick has ever met, but he's thick as pig shit (and that was Teresa talking, damn country girl and her lazy language). “Thank you,” he says with a smile, looking as though he doesn't really believe it. He must think Nick is just being polite. He should know that Nick is never polite for the sake of it. “But, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather keep on studying.”
Nick shrugs. “No difference to me,” he lies, leaning his arms back on the table and pretending to go to sleep.
Flavour: Cranberry 1 - The Fool
Story: Colours Don't Run
Title: No Difference To Me
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 990
Summary: Nick tries to figure out what's up with him and Adrian, and why he chooses to spend so much time with the dumbest clever guy he ever met.
Notes: Written with a much closer third-person than I usually do, and present tense...not sure it came out exactly as it was meant to though xD
Nikolaus can't understand how the kid does it. Christ, he thought Teresa talked too much, but Adrian just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. Always yapping, at his heels like a dog, with wide eyes eager to please.
You can kick a dog, but you can't kick Adrian.
At least, Nick never can. He used to try, once upon a time; he used to snarl and growl; he tried ignoring him, and he tried rudeness to his face.
The damn boy just kept coming back and coming back, and Nick couldn't see why. Eventually, him and his aggravatingly-charming accent became part of the damn scenery and you didn't even need to notice he was there anymore, with his motor-mouth going, going, always going. Eventually, you got used to catching sight of a reddish stalk of hair out of the corner of your eye, and freckles on his cheeks if you stared at his face too long (and Nick always stared at his face too long).
That didn't make living with him any easier. The talking, for instance, was still fucking annoying. It was like he didn't breathe; he certainly never stopped for you to answer a question, just kept running roughshod over you. And the sugar spoon. How many times did they fight over the sugar spoon?
It was, Nick thought to himself, a simple rule. One spoon for the sugar pot, one spoon in the tea. One spoon stayed dry, one spoon got wet. But apparently this was too much for Adrian, who showed no shred of concern for the abused cutlery.
What most people will tell you, is that Adrian does not strike them as terribly bright. In fact, that he is probably the most air-headed young man they had misfortune to meet - with his cheerful outlook and bouncy feet. Nick knows that isn't true.
Adrian studies hard every night, with his papers spread out across the dining room table and a pair of glasses jammed wonkily on his nose (he hates wearing contact lenses in the evening; he says it gives him a headache). Studying hard doesn't automatically make you a bright lad, but Nick knows from watching him that Adrian is actually very intelligent. Intelligent enough to pretend that he isn't.
He reads and writes very quickly, quicker than Nick - whose handwriting is so spidery as to be utterly illegible to humans, and certainly faster than Teresa - who still has to run her finger under the words to keep her place on the page.
Nick slumps next to him whenever this is going on, because it's better than the blaring television next door, and Teresa will only fucking talk at him, and Ute will be even worse because she's completely nuts. And neither of them have a reddish stalk of hair and freckles on their cheeks.
“So...do you not like it here?” he asks one time, resting his cheek on his arm, stretched out across the table and obscuring half of Adrian's papers.
The Irish boy looks up suddenly from his work, concerned and wide-eyed. “I'm sorry?”
Nick waves one hand vaguely at his mountain of books and sheets. “You're always studying for another test or exam. It's like you want to just keep getting promoted.”
Adrian's worry turns into a warm smile, and his shoulders relax. “It's nothing like that,” he says. “I'm just conscious of being weaker than everyone. More vulnerable, you know? I only want to make it so I'm not a...” Adrian pauses to find the right word. “Liability,” he finally settles on.
Nick nods, not sure what to say to that. Adrian's magic is in healing, and his combat training has left a lot to be desired (but then, there isn't much else to expect when you're taught by Teresa of all people, who can barely tell one end of a sword from another). But then, the day that Adrian shone, won his respect and everything else he deserved - Nick had been the weak one; Teresa had been vulnerable; and Robert was the huge fucking liability that nearly killed them all, and certainly killed himself.
“I think you do very well,” Nick says finally, slowly, like he's tasting words in his mouth before deciding to voice them. He touches his hand lightly to his stomach, tracing a line across the soft scar that sits along it. He remembers the day he watched his own guts tumble onto the floor, and how he was shakily trying to scoop them back into the gaping ragged hole, even whilst he bled to death. He remembers how the useless, naïve fool that had tagged along for the ride put his cool hands against Nick's skin, fixed his arms around his stomach, whispered something in his ear, and made everything all right again. Adrian nearly killed himself with that (should have killed himself, really) - and was pleasantly surprised to only suffer that coma.
Only go into a six week coma, and have to be dragged out again by Teresa and Ute and a whole lot of magic energy. That was a big 'only'.
“Actually,” Nick starts again, quietly, as Adrian has made shufflings to get back to his work. “Actually, I think you're excellent.”
Adrian misses the point completely. He's the cleverest boy Nick has ever met, but he's thick as pig shit (and that was Teresa talking, damn country girl and her lazy language). “Thank you,” he says with a smile, looking as though he doesn't really believe it. He must think Nick is just being polite. He should know that Nick is never polite for the sake of it. “But, if it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather keep on studying.”
Nick shrugs. “No difference to me,” he lies, leaning his arms back on the table and pretending to go to sleep.