The Beginning...of a very short, demented series...
It is what it sounds like: A VERY short series, as opposed to all my other writing. Probably not more than four chapters, tops. I SWEAR!
TITLE: Tread On Me 1
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Nicholas/Danny, Andrew/Andy, Nicholas/Andrew, Tony/Andrew, Andy/Turner(ftw!)
WARNINGS: Domestic violence, swearing, rape-inklings, smex, angst, gratuitous adjectives, abusive of italics.
A/N: Andrew and Andy are on the breaks. Who's in line to mend their broken hearts? A lot of people, apparently!
Soundtrack
1. 'Believe' - Aiden
2. 'I Love' - Athlete
3. 'In the Morning and Amazing' - Circa Survive
4. Hung Up on the Way I'm Feeling - The Redwalls
...Plus more tracks each chapter...
“What the HELL is your problem?” Andy shouted.
“MY problem?” Andrew retorted. “I’m not the one strutting about at work! I’m not the one hanging all over Doris in the locker room! I’m not the one fucking around with every woman who flashes her ass at me, you bloody ponce!”
“Since when am I fucking around with anybody?”
“Since I fucking saw you with that bitch from Buford.”
“She was lost!”
“You’re lost.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Figure something out on your fucking own for once, Andy!”
“Which the hell one of us was it that fixed the damn car? Which of us figured out what was wrong with Bob that time he got himself concussed? Which the fucking one of us, Andrew, is always figuring shit out for us? Because I’m pretty sure you’re absent-”
“Don’t you fucking start with me, Andrew Wayne Cartwright, or I swear to fucking CHRIST-”
“What? You’ll what?”
“I’ll bust your sorry arse, that’s what.”
“I would LOVE to see you try, little man.”
“…You…You…I’ll fucking KILL you-”
“What’s th’matter, Andrew? Short-guy complex much?”
“And what‘s your fucking problem, Andy? What, did that dumb cunt give you fucking herpes or something? You‘re such a whore-”
Andy grabbed Andrew by the collar and slammed him back against the living room wall. His face was blank, his eyes cold, and he squinted as he brought his face close to Andrew’s.
“Take it back.”
“….”
“Take it BACK.”
“No.”
Andrew’s head rested heavily in his palm, staring at Nicholas’s phone as he sat waiting for him in the Chief’s office. He didn’t feel like going up to his own claustrophobic little room, not with Andy pacing through it like a lion at a zoo, watching every passing visitor for an opportunity to rip their throats out.
Angel came storming in, looking particularly angry and flustered, and Andrew could tell this was not going to be a good day.
“Can I help you, Detective?” Nicholas almost sneered.
Andrew pursed his lips and cocked his head, fighting two vastly conflicting urges; should he be a wanker toward Nicholarse, like he always was, or should he stuff a fist down his own throat and keep the conversation civil? He sure as shit didn’t want any more trouble, not today, not again. He was too tired. Andy took everything out of him.
“I dunno,” Andrew shrugged.
Nicholas paused in his flurry of activity, setting his hat down on his desk rather than chucking it across the office as he’d first intended. For a moment, he’d actually thought he’d need it for throwing at Andrew, but the detective’s blasé and deflated attitude clued him in that something had fallen precariously out of balance in his life. Or maybe he was just setting Nicholas up for something…?
“Well,” Nicholas sighed, still feeling gruff as he threw himself into his chair and leaned back, peering down his nose almost at Andrew, “What is it?”
“Excuse me?” Andrew did in fact sneer back at him, raising his head from his hands and making a disgusted face. “Since when did I ask to get grilled by you, Nicholarse?” He damned himself for the tone of voice, immediately biting his tongue.
“Since you came in here and pulled the Eeyore routine,” Nicholas smirked, seeing Andrew’s torn expression. He rocked forward, resting his elbows on the desk and making a steeple of his fingers before pressing, “Come on, Andrew. I know we aren’t the best of friends, but we’re not nemesis anymore…I think. You obviously wanted to say something when I came in, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Andrew didn’t speak, but his imploring eyes told Nicholas that it was guessing time.
“It’s something with Andy, isn’t it?” Nicholas knew on the first try. Why else would Andrew not be in his office? Why else would he have gotten into a fight with Andy already, coming in to find him picking a fight with Tony, the two of them nearly at blows before Nicholas broke it up and took a dust bin to the back of the head?
“S’none of your business,” Andrew grumbled, looking away. He may have wanted help, but he wasn’t going to sob his heart out like some bleeding nancy. Make Nicholas dig for it, why not? It was what the Chief loved to do, anyway, taking smug satisfaction out of his own mind tricks.
“It is my business when my friends get hurt,” Nicholas said pointedly, resting his hands palms-down on his desk, staring directly into Andrew’s eyes.
Andrew furrowed his brow, lips slightly agape as he regarded Nicholas anew. They were friends after all, weren’t they? It was a funny thing, feeling so hurt and rejected, and yet finding that the strangest of people still cared. Apparently, Nicholas cared about him.
“It’s…we had a hell of a fight, is all,” Andrew muttered, sighing emphatically. He wanted to seem casual, even though the memories that sprang to mind at the mention of the previous night made Andrew’s heart ache and his eyes burn. Every word was etched in his memory, every action…
“Take it BACK.”
“No.”
Andy’s calm expression erupted in a scowl of rage, gritting his teeth as he shook Andrew hard, making his head slam against the wall.
“Why the FUCK are you always like this, Andrew? Why the FUCK are you such an up-tight prick all the time? Why can’t you just loosen the hell up for once in your life and stop seeing ghosts everywhere?”
“Why the fuck don’t you let me go, you stupid arse?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t get any ideas, you sick fuck.”
“Jesus, what the HELL is your problem? You’d think I’d killed your mum or something.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mum-”
“Oh, for fuck’s SAKE, Andy, pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and take a damn good look around! You think you’re such a great fucking guy, just because you can push everybody else around all of a sudden, eh? Just because I’m not shoving you back, you think you can tell me what to do or something? Well get a new fucking idea, Charlie.”
Andrew felt a fist collide with his stomach and the air cascaded from his lungs. He bent double, Andy’s hands no longer holding or hurting him, as he tried to push off the wall and move away. His knees hit the floor and he coughed, trying to inhale, when a back-handed blow came down and across his face, sending him sprawling. Scrambling at the floor, he tried to get back onto his knees, but a heavy weight in the small of his back told him Andy was holding him down.
“You stupid cunt-” Andrew started, but the toe of Andy’s shoe caught him in the ribs before he could finish.
“Shut it,” Andy commanded, falling to the floor next to him, kneeling over Andrew as his partner lay on his back. “Just shut the hell up, Andrew. I’m sick of your voice, you know that?”
“I’m sick the fuck of YOU,” Andrew growled. He tried to shake Andy’s hands off his own, pinned down, helpless. “Don’t fucking TOUCH me-”
Andy’s lips collided with his own, forcing him into silence, as Andy climbed on top of Andrew and sat on his hips, applying more and more weight until Andrew’s wrists ached and his body hurt.
As Andy sat back, Andrew could see a look in his partner’s eyes that terrified him, and he suddenly wished he was far, far away.
“A fight?” Nicholas clarified, raising his eyebrows. “A lover’s quarrel-”
“Don’t call it that,” Andrew scowled, shaking his head. He looked away into the corner, where the hedgehog’s cage sat by a large filing cabinet covered in chunky magnets. There were pictures all over its surface, memories since the NWA, happy times that now felt distant and isolated in comparison to his current angst.
“He’s not…We…” Andrew tried to speak, but a crushing weight pushed down on his lungs, just like the night prior, strangling the words from him and robbing him of strength.
He rested his head in his hands again, biting his bottom lip and focusing on inhaling, desperate not to break down in Angel’s office.
There was a distant click and a low rattle, and then a warm hand resting between his shoulders, rubbing his back slowly. Andrew didn’t need to look up to see the considerations Angel had taken for him; the door was shut and the blinds closed, and of all the people in the world, Nicholas Angel was comforting him.
He couldn’t help it. He wept.
He suddenly wished he was far, far away.
“Andy, get OFF,” he said flatly.
Andy leered down at him, a slow, sick smile spreading across his face. He began to grind into Andrew, teasing his body, even going so far as to lean down and ghost his lips over Andrew’s, but never giving him any greater satisfaction.
Andrew groaned, thrashing wildly and pressing his heels into the carpet, trying to gain leverage, but Andy was bigger than him in nearly every way; there was no chance of conventional escape.
“You fucking like it, don’t you, mate?” Andy’s words burned against his ear, a hiss that wrapped around his consciousness and blotted out all other ideas. Yes, he liked this, he liked this very much, or at least he would have if Andy didn’t mean to hurt him. This, however, was torture rather than pleasure, and the thought made Andrew disgusted, both with Andy and himself.
He would not cry. Not for this. Not for Andy, not anymore.
“Let me GO!” Andrew shouted, using the last of his energy in a burst of violence, lashing out and bucking upward hard enough to shake Andy just slightly. Twisting hard, Andrew was able to send Andy crashing down on his hip, his grip loosening as he yelped and tried to get back up. Andrew yanked his hands free, rolling onto his stomach, pushing upward, getting to his feet-
Andy had him about the waist, picking him up, biting the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood, and Andrew howled in pain, feeling blood on his neck and a hard body at his back. This was not sexy. This was not fun. This was dangerous, and Andrew was scared.
He was airborne, slamming hard and awkwardly against the couch, with Andy on him in less than a second.
“One last time,” Andy panted into Andrew’s ear, crushing his battered partner into the couch with his weight and determination. His hands were yanking open buttons, tearing past cloth, betraying zippers and elastic, even as Andrew ground his palms into Andy’s shoulders, willing for the Heavens themselves to intervene. “And then I never want to see you again.”
At that, Andrew went limp, staring dead into the middle-distance. He was dumbstruck, heartbroken, a thousand different horrible emotions all stirred into a mire in his heart. He didn’t care that Andy hit him, that Andy touched him and kissed him, that he’d changed himself entirely into the world’s biggest pussy, just to hang on to Andy for even a moment. He just cared if he didn’t.
Nicholas brought his chair around the desk and sat facing Andrew, knees against knees, leaning forward so his forehead almost touched Wainwright’s.
“I…I fucked it..all up,” Andrew gasped between weakening sobs. “I…he…I don’t know what the hell I should have done…”
“There was nothing you could have,” Nicholas soothed, his voice low as he dared to reach out and rub Andrew’s shoulder. “You didn’t-”
“How the hell do you make it work with Danny?” Andrew pressed, shaking his head, staring holes into the floor when his eyes weren’t too puffy to open.
“Danny and I…he sort of…we just…do,” Nicholas found himself smiling, despite the situation. He never really stopped to think why he and Danny never fought, or disagreed, or conflicted. They just didn’t. They just worked.
“How do you…How am I-” Andrew hiccuped, sitting up suddenly and finding Nicholas in his face. He would have gasped if he wasn’t so congested; seeing Nicholas so close, leaning into him, directing a look of care and compassion at him for the first time, Andrew felt he really did look like an angel. “How am I supposed to go on?” he finally murmured.
“You will,” Nicholas reassured; he felt something strange as well, as if someone had placed a warm cloth to his head, making him sweat. His fingers twitched, and without thinking, he took Andrew’s hands into his own. “You can keep living, Andrew. It’s always hard at first, but…you’re a tough sonofabitch. You’ll be alright.”
Andrew smiled, almost daring to laugh, and as he shook his head and wiped his tears, Nicholas decided he would do something, whether Andrew liked it or not.
He scooted forward, arms tangling around Andrew’s waist, and pulled him into an awkward hug. Andrew smelled of cigarettes and shaving cream, Nicholas noted, his nose buried in the collar of the detective’s jacket. He felt Andrew melt by degrees; his back curved, his shoulders slackened, he sighed shakily into Nicholas’s shoulder, and then he returned the gesture by sliding his hands around Nicholas’s sides and pulling him in as well.
Andrew decided he liked being hugged by Nicholas. It was something he could get used to.
TITLE: Tread On Me 1
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Nicholas/Danny, Andrew/Andy, Nicholas/Andrew, Tony/Andrew, Andy/Turner(ftw!)
WARNINGS: Domestic violence, swearing, rape-inklings, smex, angst, gratuitous adjectives, abusive of italics.
A/N: Andrew and Andy are on the breaks. Who's in line to mend their broken hearts? A lot of people, apparently!
Soundtrack
1. 'Believe' - Aiden
2. 'I Love' - Athlete
3. 'In the Morning and Amazing' - Circa Survive
4. Hung Up on the Way I'm Feeling - The Redwalls
...Plus more tracks each chapter...
“What the HELL is your problem?” Andy shouted.
“MY problem?” Andrew retorted. “I’m not the one strutting about at work! I’m not the one hanging all over Doris in the locker room! I’m not the one fucking around with every woman who flashes her ass at me, you bloody ponce!”
“Since when am I fucking around with anybody?”
“Since I fucking saw you with that bitch from Buford.”
“She was lost!”
“You’re lost.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Figure something out on your fucking own for once, Andy!”
“Which the hell one of us was it that fixed the damn car? Which of us figured out what was wrong with Bob that time he got himself concussed? Which the fucking one of us, Andrew, is always figuring shit out for us? Because I’m pretty sure you’re absent-”
“Don’t you fucking start with me, Andrew Wayne Cartwright, or I swear to fucking CHRIST-”
“What? You’ll what?”
“I’ll bust your sorry arse, that’s what.”
“I would LOVE to see you try, little man.”
“…You…You…I’ll fucking KILL you-”
“What’s th’matter, Andrew? Short-guy complex much?”
“And what‘s your fucking problem, Andy? What, did that dumb cunt give you fucking herpes or something? You‘re such a whore-”
Andy grabbed Andrew by the collar and slammed him back against the living room wall. His face was blank, his eyes cold, and he squinted as he brought his face close to Andrew’s.
“Take it back.”
“….”
“Take it BACK.”
“No.”
Andrew’s head rested heavily in his palm, staring at Nicholas’s phone as he sat waiting for him in the Chief’s office. He didn’t feel like going up to his own claustrophobic little room, not with Andy pacing through it like a lion at a zoo, watching every passing visitor for an opportunity to rip their throats out.
Angel came storming in, looking particularly angry and flustered, and Andrew could tell this was not going to be a good day.
“Can I help you, Detective?” Nicholas almost sneered.
Andrew pursed his lips and cocked his head, fighting two vastly conflicting urges; should he be a wanker toward Nicholarse, like he always was, or should he stuff a fist down his own throat and keep the conversation civil? He sure as shit didn’t want any more trouble, not today, not again. He was too tired. Andy took everything out of him.
“I dunno,” Andrew shrugged.
Nicholas paused in his flurry of activity, setting his hat down on his desk rather than chucking it across the office as he’d first intended. For a moment, he’d actually thought he’d need it for throwing at Andrew, but the detective’s blasé and deflated attitude clued him in that something had fallen precariously out of balance in his life. Or maybe he was just setting Nicholas up for something…?
“Well,” Nicholas sighed, still feeling gruff as he threw himself into his chair and leaned back, peering down his nose almost at Andrew, “What is it?”
“Excuse me?” Andrew did in fact sneer back at him, raising his head from his hands and making a disgusted face. “Since when did I ask to get grilled by you, Nicholarse?” He damned himself for the tone of voice, immediately biting his tongue.
“Since you came in here and pulled the Eeyore routine,” Nicholas smirked, seeing Andrew’s torn expression. He rocked forward, resting his elbows on the desk and making a steeple of his fingers before pressing, “Come on, Andrew. I know we aren’t the best of friends, but we’re not nemesis anymore…I think. You obviously wanted to say something when I came in, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Andrew didn’t speak, but his imploring eyes told Nicholas that it was guessing time.
“It’s something with Andy, isn’t it?” Nicholas knew on the first try. Why else would Andrew not be in his office? Why else would he have gotten into a fight with Andy already, coming in to find him picking a fight with Tony, the two of them nearly at blows before Nicholas broke it up and took a dust bin to the back of the head?
“S’none of your business,” Andrew grumbled, looking away. He may have wanted help, but he wasn’t going to sob his heart out like some bleeding nancy. Make Nicholas dig for it, why not? It was what the Chief loved to do, anyway, taking smug satisfaction out of his own mind tricks.
“It is my business when my friends get hurt,” Nicholas said pointedly, resting his hands palms-down on his desk, staring directly into Andrew’s eyes.
Andrew furrowed his brow, lips slightly agape as he regarded Nicholas anew. They were friends after all, weren’t they? It was a funny thing, feeling so hurt and rejected, and yet finding that the strangest of people still cared. Apparently, Nicholas cared about him.
“It’s…we had a hell of a fight, is all,” Andrew muttered, sighing emphatically. He wanted to seem casual, even though the memories that sprang to mind at the mention of the previous night made Andrew’s heart ache and his eyes burn. Every word was etched in his memory, every action…
“Take it BACK.”
“No.”
Andy’s calm expression erupted in a scowl of rage, gritting his teeth as he shook Andrew hard, making his head slam against the wall.
“Why the FUCK are you always like this, Andrew? Why the FUCK are you such an up-tight prick all the time? Why can’t you just loosen the hell up for once in your life and stop seeing ghosts everywhere?”
“Why the fuck don’t you let me go, you stupid arse?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t get any ideas, you sick fuck.”
“Jesus, what the HELL is your problem? You’d think I’d killed your mum or something.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my mum-”
“Oh, for fuck’s SAKE, Andy, pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and take a damn good look around! You think you’re such a great fucking guy, just because you can push everybody else around all of a sudden, eh? Just because I’m not shoving you back, you think you can tell me what to do or something? Well get a new fucking idea, Charlie.”
Andrew felt a fist collide with his stomach and the air cascaded from his lungs. He bent double, Andy’s hands no longer holding or hurting him, as he tried to push off the wall and move away. His knees hit the floor and he coughed, trying to inhale, when a back-handed blow came down and across his face, sending him sprawling. Scrambling at the floor, he tried to get back onto his knees, but a heavy weight in the small of his back told him Andy was holding him down.
“You stupid cunt-” Andrew started, but the toe of Andy’s shoe caught him in the ribs before he could finish.
“Shut it,” Andy commanded, falling to the floor next to him, kneeling over Andrew as his partner lay on his back. “Just shut the hell up, Andrew. I’m sick of your voice, you know that?”
“I’m sick the fuck of YOU,” Andrew growled. He tried to shake Andy’s hands off his own, pinned down, helpless. “Don’t fucking TOUCH me-”
Andy’s lips collided with his own, forcing him into silence, as Andy climbed on top of Andrew and sat on his hips, applying more and more weight until Andrew’s wrists ached and his body hurt.
As Andy sat back, Andrew could see a look in his partner’s eyes that terrified him, and he suddenly wished he was far, far away.
“A fight?” Nicholas clarified, raising his eyebrows. “A lover’s quarrel-”
“Don’t call it that,” Andrew scowled, shaking his head. He looked away into the corner, where the hedgehog’s cage sat by a large filing cabinet covered in chunky magnets. There were pictures all over its surface, memories since the NWA, happy times that now felt distant and isolated in comparison to his current angst.
“He’s not…We…” Andrew tried to speak, but a crushing weight pushed down on his lungs, just like the night prior, strangling the words from him and robbing him of strength.
He rested his head in his hands again, biting his bottom lip and focusing on inhaling, desperate not to break down in Angel’s office.
There was a distant click and a low rattle, and then a warm hand resting between his shoulders, rubbing his back slowly. Andrew didn’t need to look up to see the considerations Angel had taken for him; the door was shut and the blinds closed, and of all the people in the world, Nicholas Angel was comforting him.
He couldn’t help it. He wept.
He suddenly wished he was far, far away.
“Andy, get OFF,” he said flatly.
Andy leered down at him, a slow, sick smile spreading across his face. He began to grind into Andrew, teasing his body, even going so far as to lean down and ghost his lips over Andrew’s, but never giving him any greater satisfaction.
Andrew groaned, thrashing wildly and pressing his heels into the carpet, trying to gain leverage, but Andy was bigger than him in nearly every way; there was no chance of conventional escape.
“You fucking like it, don’t you, mate?” Andy’s words burned against his ear, a hiss that wrapped around his consciousness and blotted out all other ideas. Yes, he liked this, he liked this very much, or at least he would have if Andy didn’t mean to hurt him. This, however, was torture rather than pleasure, and the thought made Andrew disgusted, both with Andy and himself.
He would not cry. Not for this. Not for Andy, not anymore.
“Let me GO!” Andrew shouted, using the last of his energy in a burst of violence, lashing out and bucking upward hard enough to shake Andy just slightly. Twisting hard, Andrew was able to send Andy crashing down on his hip, his grip loosening as he yelped and tried to get back up. Andrew yanked his hands free, rolling onto his stomach, pushing upward, getting to his feet-
Andy had him about the waist, picking him up, biting the side of his neck hard enough to draw blood, and Andrew howled in pain, feeling blood on his neck and a hard body at his back. This was not sexy. This was not fun. This was dangerous, and Andrew was scared.
He was airborne, slamming hard and awkwardly against the couch, with Andy on him in less than a second.
“One last time,” Andy panted into Andrew’s ear, crushing his battered partner into the couch with his weight and determination. His hands were yanking open buttons, tearing past cloth, betraying zippers and elastic, even as Andrew ground his palms into Andy’s shoulders, willing for the Heavens themselves to intervene. “And then I never want to see you again.”
At that, Andrew went limp, staring dead into the middle-distance. He was dumbstruck, heartbroken, a thousand different horrible emotions all stirred into a mire in his heart. He didn’t care that Andy hit him, that Andy touched him and kissed him, that he’d changed himself entirely into the world’s biggest pussy, just to hang on to Andy for even a moment. He just cared if he didn’t.
Nicholas brought his chair around the desk and sat facing Andrew, knees against knees, leaning forward so his forehead almost touched Wainwright’s.
“I…I fucked it..all up,” Andrew gasped between weakening sobs. “I…he…I don’t know what the hell I should have done…”
“There was nothing you could have,” Nicholas soothed, his voice low as he dared to reach out and rub Andrew’s shoulder. “You didn’t-”
“How the hell do you make it work with Danny?” Andrew pressed, shaking his head, staring holes into the floor when his eyes weren’t too puffy to open.
“Danny and I…he sort of…we just…do,” Nicholas found himself smiling, despite the situation. He never really stopped to think why he and Danny never fought, or disagreed, or conflicted. They just didn’t. They just worked.
“How do you…How am I-” Andrew hiccuped, sitting up suddenly and finding Nicholas in his face. He would have gasped if he wasn’t so congested; seeing Nicholas so close, leaning into him, directing a look of care and compassion at him for the first time, Andrew felt he really did look like an angel. “How am I supposed to go on?” he finally murmured.
“You will,” Nicholas reassured; he felt something strange as well, as if someone had placed a warm cloth to his head, making him sweat. His fingers twitched, and without thinking, he took Andrew’s hands into his own. “You can keep living, Andrew. It’s always hard at first, but…you’re a tough sonofabitch. You’ll be alright.”
Andrew smiled, almost daring to laugh, and as he shook his head and wiped his tears, Nicholas decided he would do something, whether Andrew liked it or not.
He scooted forward, arms tangling around Andrew’s waist, and pulled him into an awkward hug. Andrew smelled of cigarettes and shaving cream, Nicholas noted, his nose buried in the collar of the detective’s jacket. He felt Andrew melt by degrees; his back curved, his shoulders slackened, he sighed shakily into Nicholas’s shoulder, and then he returned the gesture by sliding his hands around Nicholas’s sides and pulling him in as well.
Andrew decided he liked being hugged by Nicholas. It was something he could get used to.