FIC: Haven -- Somebody That I Used to Know (5/11)
Title: Somebody That I Used to Know (5/11)
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, no money being made. Just playing in Haven's weird little sandbox.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,859/52,695
Character/Pairing(s): Nathan/Duke, a handful of minor characters from Haven and a few minor OCs
Warnings: explicit sex, some violence, character death (no major characters), blatant ripping off of an anecdote from a song
Summary: Duke and Nathan used to be friends. When they were, getting out of Haven seemed like the only way to get free of their history there, but getting out and leaving it behind prove to be two very different things. Per-series back story fic.
Author's Note(s): Written for syfybigbang, which has been super fun and super stressful because I've never written ANYTHING this freaking long before.
Many, many, many thanks to dr_ducktator for betaing, for putting up with all my complaining, listening to every crazy song that reminded me of this fic, and for letting me ramble on about this stuff for the entire time I was writing. You're the best, my feathery friend! Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
All the (really, really lovely) art is by satavaisa and is so awesome that I may or may not have squeaked happily upon seeing it. And I may continue to do so. You can see all of the beautiful things she made here at her art master post.
Nathan’s apartment is in an old brick building that Duke would swear leans a little to the left and it’s all strange outcroppings and oddly sized windows. They walked there in silence, snow that was a holiday dusting hours ago falling in earnest now. It turns the night a grainy purple and muffles everything under a thick blanket that seems almost warm. Duke can’t think of anything to say, or rather can’t think of any one thing to say that he trusts himself to say and lets the near silence envelope them instead.
Inside it’s strange to think that Nathan lives here, sleeps here and brushes his teeth here. Brings people home here. It’s stranger still to think that this should have been theirs, that Duke should have been living here too all this time. The space is small, one decent sized room divided into kitchen and living room with a small table in the back corner, and what looks like a little bedroom in the back. One corner of the living room is filled with an overflowing desk stacked high with books and sheaves of paper, but everything else is orderly, ascetic. It’s impossible not to feel out of place, the only awkward unkempt thing in sight.
Nathan makes him go through the whole thing like a play by play without color commentary. He digs for ridiculous details that nobody could possibly care about - who was the arresting officer, what time was it when he talked to the chief, who he saw when he waited, minutiae that Duke is surprised he even remembers after all this time. He realizes it for what it is; after all, both of them had been on the receiving end of this kind of interrogation from Nathan’s father more than a few times when they were kids. It should offend him, he knows, the presumption that he’s guilty until a court of Nathan alone decides otherwise. Nathan watches him with no expression on his face, but the tightness in his jaw isn’t lost on Duke and if there has to be some kind of trial like this he’s ok with going through it. At the very least it’s nice to know that this is one of those rare occurrences where he can claim to be beyond reproach with a straight face.
“I just want to make sure I get your flawless reasoning,” Nathan says in a tone that would do a disappointed parent proud. “You thought it was a good time to smuggle something into the States because…?”
Maybe not completely beyond reproach. “Deliver. I don’t know what’s in the packages.”
Nathan rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand like it’s been a very long day. “You thought it was a good idea to deliver a package that you received in a foreign country -“
“Canada is hardly even a foreign country.”
“ - and you had no idea what was inside that package.”
“You think it’s a good idea to devote four years of your life to arbitrary deadlines and busywork in the pursuit of a piece of paper. I don’t judge your choices. Look, I don’t ask questions. That’s way above my pay grade and I don’t need that information. Don’t want it either.” He leans back, shrugging. “It’s not like you’ve never made any questionable trips across the border yourself.”
“Right, and whose idea were those again?” Nathan sounds like he half wants a fight about it, an edge of contempt creeping into his voice.
“Because I corrupted you against your will and forced you into a life of crime?”
“That’s not the point.”
“But you still get to decide what’s right and wrong for everybody else. Jesus, you sound just like your father.” He doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night arguing about the moral ambiguity of the transportation of questionably legal goods and it seems like Nathan does, like he would rather stick with the places he knows he’s got Duke in the wrong than admit that there’s no blame to be laid where it matters. “It was stupid. I know that. But I tried to fix it. If you can tell me what I should have done, be my guest.”
He’s quiet for a minute, giving up scrutinizing Duke for staring down at a loose thread on his jeans that seems especially fascinating. “I know it’s not...I mean, it’s totally your fault. You’re an idiot. But you know what I mean.”
“Then what? You want me to be the asshole who bailed on you?”
“Maybe.” Nathan reaches for his hand, and shifting his scrutiny to Duke’s fingers and the way they fit together. “Maybe it’s better than me being the asshole who bailed on you.”
“He never told you.”
“Not a word. I just assumed you…it’s not crazy to think you changed your mind.” He gestures around the room helplessly. “Your life is different than mine. I figured that’s what you wanted, kind of always thought it would be like that. Not that big a leap.”
“It should have been.” Duke ignores his look of surprise. It’s insulting, the picture of him Nathan has obviously been building up to explain what happened. It has nothing in common with reality and while part of him understands and has done the same thing it still stings. “I never gave you a reason to think that.”
“No, you never made it sound like my plans were the worst thing that could ever happen to you, Duke. Not once,” he says, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “Besides, it’s not like I had a lot to go on. You weren’t there and you’re not exactly easy to get in touch with. So not intentionally, but yeah. It didn’t seem so unbelievable, compared to everything else.” Nathan is still holding Duke’s hand tight, like he’s worried he might pull it away, tracing along the veins in his wrist in paths that shoot tiny shivers through his skin.
“Like the chief?”
He nods, his fingers tightening unconsciously. “He lied right to my face. Like it was nothing.”
“I don’t get it. He helped me out, seriously. I mean yeah, I could have gotten out of it on my own. But he came through, got me out of there the next day. And when I was home, he seemed like he felt sorry for me. Like a normal human being.”
It’s obvious that nothing he can say is going to soften the anger that’s radiating off Nathan, obvious in the stiffness of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw. There’s never been anything close to what Duke would guess is a normal relationship between the chief and his son and he’s not entirely sure why. Nathan had never been the kind of kid that makes parents crazy, but his father was always on him about being smarter, working hard, growing up and getting his head out of his ass. There was a constant narrative that Nathan didn’t have a clue about the real world and he’d better get one before it was too late, but it never matched up with reality. Most of the trouble Nathan ever got into in high school was because of Duke; he wasn’t perfect, obviously, but the chief could have done a lot worse as kids went. But the rhetoric was always there and unsurprisingly Nathan didn’t take it all that well. Even when he was living at home they only spoke when they had to, like strangers sharing a house instead of a family. Still, it’s hard to imagine indifference turning vindictive that way, especially since the chief never did anything to keep them apart before and Nathan is more than old enough to choose his own friends.
He says as much, but Nathan laughs without any humor in it, his voice bitter. “You really think that’s what this is about? You and me being friends?” When Duke responds only with a blank look he shakes his head, still laughing. “He’s not stupid, Duke. He’s not stupid and we weren’t careful, not like we should have been.”
“He never said anything.”
“No, he wouldn’t. What do you think all that shit about growing up and being a man and making something of myself was about? Why do you think he kept on me about being a cop, staying in Haven?” He looks uncomfortable spelling it out, like he would rather just assume that they both know what they were and why the chief had a problem with it. “It’s not because you’re...you know.”
There are roughly a hundred ways Duke could take that, but he goes with the obvious. “A guy.”
“I don’t think, anyway. He’s never been like that. It’s so he can keep his thumb on me, get me to do what he wants. He’s always wanted somebody to turn Haven over to someday. He thinks he’s got some mission there, like he owes the place something and I owe it too because he’s stuck with me for a son. You aren’t ever going to be part of that.”
It makes a strange amount of sense as he traces that year backwards in his head, awkward conversations and that handful of oddly pitying looks. At the time Duke assumed it was some trace of sympathy, something long unused and dull with age but at least still present. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time because it didn’t seem that strange that someone who watched him grow up and had known how close he and Nathan were might feel for him then. Logically though that wasn’t Nathan’s father and never had been. As nice as it was to think he helped him out of the goodness of his heart, it was easy enough to figure out knowing what Duke did now.
There are half a dozen things Duke could say, maybe should say - after all, it turns out that it was his fault. All of it, really, because if he hadn’t presented such a golden opportunity then everything would be different. Finally he goes with “I wrote you, you know. Pretty much every day. I guess you didn’t get any of the letters. They didn’t forward them, or whatever.”
“I got them.” Nathan won’t look at him again, his voice gone odd and tight. “I threw them away.”
“You threw them away.”
“I was pissed. I’m sorry.”
Every one of those letters had been an apology for errors Duke had no idea he was making, probably twenty different perishable ways to contact him, things he never worked up the nerve to say to Nathan, conversations they never had a chance to have. If he had bothered to open one of them…
He slouches back on Nathan’s couch, lets his head fall back and closes his eyes against the orange glow that’s starting to fill up the windows. What was a pleasant drunken buzz hours ago is slowly shifting into a dull pounding in his head and the taste of stale alcohol on his tongue. He can’t imagine that the Nathan he knew would just throw out his words like that, so forcefully indifferent that he wouldn’t even hope Duke might have had something to say for himself. The truth is that he knows nothing about Nathan’s life now. Whatever he tells himself, it’s the idea of Nathan he’s in love with at this point, something he half remembered and half made up. He has no idea if this changes anything at all. It’s nice to think it does, that they can just pick up where they left off like nothing ever happened. It’s nice to think about a lot of things because he’s lonely and nostalgic, but most of those things have barely a fingertip in reality.
“You’re not real,” he murmurs without realizing it at first, lost in the ache in his head and exhaustion.
“Pretty sure I am.” When Duke opens his eyes Nathan is standing over him, reaching down to pull him up. “It’s officially tomorrow. You can crash here, if you want.”
Duke takes the extended hands and then they’re standing much too close to each other, Nathan looking up at him expectantly as if he wants Duke to decide where everything stands for both of them and make it easy and himself blameless. Duke wants to touch him again, see how much he’s allowed before Nathan cuts him off. He thinks maybe he wouldn’t and it maybe wouldn’t that bad to have this for just tonight, that it wouldn’t be that hard to leave in the morning. At least it wouldn’t have to be dealt with until then, and it would be a clean break this time.
Instead he pulls away and steps back, wondering why he’s always the one putting space between them when it’s the last thing he wants to do. If Nathan is disappointed he doesn’t show it, just shows him where he keeps clean towels and tosses him a pair of sweats with a college logo on the hip. Ten minutes of hot water and steam erases whatever remaining inclination he might have had toward self-reflection and by the time he’s stepping out of the shower he’s barely got the ambition to rub the water out of his hair and do the finger toothpaste routine because his mouth tastes god awful by this point. Nathan’s couch looks about six inches to short to be comfortable but Duke knows he would be entirely content with the floor right now.
Nathan stands awkward in the door to his bedroom like he’s trying to decide something. Finally he says, “My couch sucks.”
“It’s ok. I’ve slept on worse.” Which is entirely true, and none of those sleeping arrangements involved any kind of proximity to Nathan as a bonus, although Duke omits that thought.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to hear you bitch about it tomorrow. Come on.”
They’ve probably slept in the same bed a million times since they were kids and it was never a big deal, Duke tells himself. Nathan is trying to be considerate. That's all. He still hesitates in the same space Nathan occupied a few seconds ago, knowing he looks just as awkward. “You sure?”
He shrugs as if to suggest he doesn’t really care one way or another. “It’s fine. Unless you still kick in your sleep.”
“Probably,” Duke laughs, and he knows he’s too tired to do anything but give in. He’s about to make some crack about Nathan finally getting a grown up bed, but there’s hardly any space between his head meeting the pillow and unconsciousness.
Duke wakes up to the sun on his face and heat just this side of too much surrounding him. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, but when he does he keeps his eyes closed and lets it sink in slow. Everything smells like Nathan, cheap soap and sweat dampened hair and something warm he can’t ever place exactly, something that smells like home. That would be enough if it were just sheets and pillowcases, but Nathan is spooned close against him, one arm thrown around his waist and his palm flattened across his chest. Duke’s not sure if he still kicks in his sleep, but apparently Nathan still clings. He settles into the heat between them, drifting in and out of awareness as he concentrates on Nathan’s breath soft against the nape of his neck. There’s no telling what time it is and he’s glad there’s nowhere he’s supposed to be other than here, doing this. He comes to with a start once, the effects of too much sleep on top of not enough for days combined with strange surroundings, and Nathan’s arm tightens around him reflexively as he murmurs some soothing nonsense in his sleep and presses a kiss against Duke’s shoulder blade. Maybe that’s all there will ever be, but right now it seems like enough.
The next time he’s awake enough to form coherent thoughts he’s intolerably warm, suffocating in too many blankets and too much proximity. It’s not easy extracting himself from Nathan’s grip, but he manages it without waking him beyond a few muttered syllables. Duke’s stomach is empty enough to feel hollow; he can’t remember the last thing he ate yesterday and he finds himself digging through Nathan’s refrigerator with high hopes soon destroyed. It’s a graveyard of takeout cartons, pizza boxes and plastic containers of things that might have been edible at some point. There’s nothing in the apartment that could be called food in its natural state and it’s obvious that Nathan has been living on pre-packaged crap and cereal. Which is kind of endearing in a way, and kind of reassuring. If Nathan is seeing anyone she’s certainly not the domestic type and she doesn’t keep a toothbrush here. He never really considers the idea that there could be a guy; it seems oddly outside the realm of possibility. He has no good reason to assume that Nathan’s sex life has been a mirror of his own for the last two years, but any male body he’s tried to touch has only proved a frustrating disappointment and all he can do is compare everything to Nathan. Both times were hopeless exercises in substitution and he would rather believe it’s been that way for both of them. Either way, it seems like Nathan really is living here alone and that pleases him much more than he would like to admit.
Nathan’s keys are easy to find, thrown on the counter with a stack of mail that Duke may or may not check to see if anyone else pays bills here. It’s a quick trip to the little grocery store on the corner and he’s back in ten minutes with the makings of breakfast, frying bacon and hoping to god the smoke detector doesn’t go off in another five. Maybe it’s a cheap ploy, but he’s been making Nathan breakfast when he spends the night since they were in middle school and he doesn’t see any reason to stop now. Besides, everything else has the appearance of having fallen oddly into place and picked up where they left off. There’s something seductive about the normalcy of it, the feeling that things have come around to where they ought to be without either of them having to do much about it. He’s not deluded enough to think this is anything other than wishful thinking, but it’s also the happiest he’s been in a long time and he’s not going to ruin it with common sense. At least trying not to set the place on fire gives him something to do other than wait for Nathan to wake up and decide exactly how this is going to work out, because Duke has no illusions that he’s any more in control of what happens between them than he ever was.
Eventually the sounds of blankets stirring and creaking bed frame are audible from the other room, and Nathan stumbles out groggy and only partially awake. He grumbles something as he moves past Duke and hitches himself onto the last sliver of remaining counter space in the tiny kitchen, snagging a piece of bacon and gazing at the pan on the stove with interest. His hair is sticking up in crazy twists and spikes and Duke is infinitely glad he has something to do with his hands that requires most of his attention. “Bisquick?” he asks cautiously, as if hoping against hope.
“No, they’re real. I know you can tell the difference. But I don’t know where you keep anything, so unless you want to eat them out of the pan get some plates?”
“I’m really ok with eating out of the pan.” Nathan looks like he means it, but he pulls open the cabinet over the sink without relinquishing his perch. It really is a small kitchen, so much so that it’s impossible for Duke to move without bumping into Nathan’s knees or brushing his shoulder. He gives up on dislodging him from the counter; it’s obvious that the lure of breakfast that doesn’t come out of a cardboard box has him glued to the spot and a plate on his lap is as civilized as it’s going to get. The first bite has Nathan closing his eyes and letting out a little sigh of happiness, but after that he’s all business about bolting down as much as he can as fast as he can.
“You know they’re not hard to make,” Duke offers once the initial frenzy has died down. “No magic involved.”
“I know.” He runs one long finger through a puddle of syrup at the edge of his plate and brings it to his mouth, slowly sucking it clean. Anyone else and Duke would swear it had to be deliberate, but that’s Nathan all over. He has no idea what he looks like and no amount of telling him will change that, which makes it that much more infuriating. “I just like when you -” he breaks off, looking down at the plate on his lap with renewed interest. “It’s nice when someone else makes you breakfast, that’s all.”
“I bet,” Duke laughs, breaking the last strip of bacon in half and handing a piece to Nathan. “Sounds nice.”
Nathan pushes the plate aside and there’s a moment’s pause before his hands are at Duke’s waist, pulling him forward between his legs. He tilts his face up for a kiss it’s obvious he expects and Duke gives it with little more thought than he gives breathing or blinking. It’s always been that way, just made sense to give Nathan whatever he wants. It’s not like he doesn’t want it too and God knows he owes him, for when they were kids, for the last two years. There’s none of the urgency that was there the last time, just the warm connection of soft lips and the sweetness of Nathan’s mouth.
He pulls away slowly, still holding Duke in place. “It is.”
Nathan looks like he’s about to lean in again and Duke is all about letting him, only the nagging worry in the back of his head is ruining the feeling of hard thigh under his hand. “Are we going to talk about this?”
“What,” he asks distractedly, covering Duke’s mouth with his own again as he tries to articulate exactly what it is they should be talking about. He’s rapidly losing his ability to care about anything other than how good it feels or do anything other than pull Nathan tight against him. “Later.”
“No, Nate…Nathan. Nathan.” Duke finally breaks away, forcibly pushing Nathan back. “What are we doing?”
The look Nathan gives him is caustic enough to etch glass. “If I have to explain it to you maybe we should stop…”
“You know what I mean. I haven’t seen you in two years and last night was….weird. I don’t -” he breaks off to pull Nathan’s hand away from his face, wondering if he’s finally lost his mind. “Ok, this is what I’m talking about. What the hell are we doing?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, annoyance clear in his voice. “You’re here now, who knows for how long. Just let it be. Isn’t that your thing anyway?”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Nathan doing his best to get out of this conversation, squirming out of Duke’s grip and lacing his fingers together at the nape of his neck. “I just want you while you’re here.”
It doesn’t matter what he says or does, Duke realizes with a sinking feeling. Nathan isn’t going to let go of the anger he’s held on to all this time. He can be mad at his father all he wants and it won’t make any difference. He won’t be mad at himself for never bothering to do so little as open an envelope. So that leaves Duke to take all his mistrust and hurt, and most importantly all the blame he won’t put on himself. Nathan’s got to tell himself that Duke is only temporary and not to be trusted, because that way there’s no way to get hurt and no way to be at fault when it becomes self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I didn’t leave you, Nathan.” Duke steps away far enough that it’s not going to be easy for Nathan to wrap around him again, already cringing at the contrast between that movement and his words. He doesn’t know how to say the things he could in self-defense and feels like he shouldn’t have to. After all, Nathan hasn’t and isn’t going to. Still, it’s all on the tip of his tongue, filling up his throat to bursting - I was in love with you then, maybe I could be little again, maybe I still am. It’s the familiar feeling of being at Nathan’s mercy, unwilling to be the one who gives too much, unable to get what he needs without it. Only it doesn’t feel good anymore, not like the way it did when he was scared to be the one that wanted them more. Back then he wouldn’t have changed it if he could have, but now...
“I know it doesn’t mean anything, I just want…I don’t expect anything,” he blurts out, words pushed together in a single blur that manages to sound pathetic and indignant all at once. “I know you.”
“Obviously not.”
“So that’s what you want to talk about? About how you’re going to stick around and what, live my boring life? You’re going to go straight, get a job, just like everybody else?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Or you could come with me.” He honestly hadn’t thought it through before the offer was out of his mouth, but it is what he wants. He wants it more than just about anything, he realizes, and he has since the first time Nathan left for school. “It doesn’t have to be either/or. We could work it out somehow.”
“Right. Everything will be great, you the criminal mastermind who can’t get through Canadian customs and me with half of a useless degree and forty-thousand dollars in student loan debt. What are we going to do, smuggle small time shit and live on the road? Or maybe we get a place somewhere and you come home every couple of months to make me miserable and apologize for things you’re not sorry for and we live like your parents until we hate each other. That’s probably the second best great idea you’ve had, Duke. You’re a fucking genius.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he says quietly, not quite looking at Nathan. Nathan who he knows he’s probably hurt this badly before, but has never done it to him until now. “It would be different.”
“This is why I’m the smart one.” It’s not funny this time, just bored statement of fact.
Disappointment wells up inside Duke like poison and floods him, making him question every stupid thing he’s done since last night. Something has happened to Nathan since the last time he saw him, twisted him up inside so that reality can’t interfere with the blockade he’s put up around himself, let alone compete with his protective fictions. It’s ugly and Duke hates it, and the part of him that is dumb and idealistic would like to stick around and chip away at it. Maybe excavate the part of Nathan that does know him better than anybody else does. But Nathan isn’t the only one who changed and Duke knows it, whether he likes it or not. It’s been a long time since he could afford to be that naïve about people. The truth is that he was right last night - they’re not the same people they were in high school. Like everyone else they’ve grown up, for better or for worse, and it’s just not possible to be so stupid and think that anything they had was permanent or unconditional.
“Ok,” he says, mostly because he has to say something or else the burning wetness that threatens to well up in his eyes is going to come out and he’s not letting Nathan see that, not now. All those times he told himself it was stupid to be the needy one and ignored it, assumed it made him a better person to be open and breakable that way, come back to him now like a slap in the face. Not for the first time he’s glad he travels light, dressed in his clothes from last night in a handful of minutes and not having to bother gathering anything beside his coat. He doesn’t say anything to Nathan as he leaves, even though he can feel the weight of his eyes at his back. Maybe he regrets something he’s said, maybe all of it, but Duke can’t let himself care. There’s nothing there worth looking back at and he already feels turned to salt inside.
--
read part 6
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, no money being made. Just playing in Haven's weird little sandbox.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,859/52,695
Character/Pairing(s): Nathan/Duke, a handful of minor characters from Haven and a few minor OCs
Warnings: explicit sex, some violence, character death (no major characters), blatant ripping off of an anecdote from a song
Summary: Duke and Nathan used to be friends. When they were, getting out of Haven seemed like the only way to get free of their history there, but getting out and leaving it behind prove to be two very different things. Per-series back story fic.
Author's Note(s): Written for syfybigbang, which has been super fun and super stressful because I've never written ANYTHING this freaking long before.
Many, many, many thanks to dr_ducktator for betaing, for putting up with all my complaining, listening to every crazy song that reminded me of this fic, and for letting me ramble on about this stuff for the entire time I was writing. You're the best, my feathery friend! Any remaining errors are mine and mine alone.
All the (really, really lovely) art is by satavaisa and is so awesome that I may or may not have squeaked happily upon seeing it. And I may continue to do so. You can see all of the beautiful things she made here at her art master post.
Nathan’s apartment is in an old brick building that Duke would swear leans a little to the left and it’s all strange outcroppings and oddly sized windows. They walked there in silence, snow that was a holiday dusting hours ago falling in earnest now. It turns the night a grainy purple and muffles everything under a thick blanket that seems almost warm. Duke can’t think of anything to say, or rather can’t think of any one thing to say that he trusts himself to say and lets the near silence envelope them instead.
Inside it’s strange to think that Nathan lives here, sleeps here and brushes his teeth here. Brings people home here. It’s stranger still to think that this should have been theirs, that Duke should have been living here too all this time. The space is small, one decent sized room divided into kitchen and living room with a small table in the back corner, and what looks like a little bedroom in the back. One corner of the living room is filled with an overflowing desk stacked high with books and sheaves of paper, but everything else is orderly, ascetic. It’s impossible not to feel out of place, the only awkward unkempt thing in sight.
Nathan makes him go through the whole thing like a play by play without color commentary. He digs for ridiculous details that nobody could possibly care about - who was the arresting officer, what time was it when he talked to the chief, who he saw when he waited, minutiae that Duke is surprised he even remembers after all this time. He realizes it for what it is; after all, both of them had been on the receiving end of this kind of interrogation from Nathan’s father more than a few times when they were kids. It should offend him, he knows, the presumption that he’s guilty until a court of Nathan alone decides otherwise. Nathan watches him with no expression on his face, but the tightness in his jaw isn’t lost on Duke and if there has to be some kind of trial like this he’s ok with going through it. At the very least it’s nice to know that this is one of those rare occurrences where he can claim to be beyond reproach with a straight face.
“I just want to make sure I get your flawless reasoning,” Nathan says in a tone that would do a disappointed parent proud. “You thought it was a good time to smuggle something into the States because…?”
Maybe not completely beyond reproach. “Deliver. I don’t know what’s in the packages.”
Nathan rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand like it’s been a very long day. “You thought it was a good idea to deliver a package that you received in a foreign country -“
“Canada is hardly even a foreign country.”
“ - and you had no idea what was inside that package.”
“You think it’s a good idea to devote four years of your life to arbitrary deadlines and busywork in the pursuit of a piece of paper. I don’t judge your choices. Look, I don’t ask questions. That’s way above my pay grade and I don’t need that information. Don’t want it either.” He leans back, shrugging. “It’s not like you’ve never made any questionable trips across the border yourself.”
“Right, and whose idea were those again?” Nathan sounds like he half wants a fight about it, an edge of contempt creeping into his voice.
“Because I corrupted you against your will and forced you into a life of crime?”
“That’s not the point.”
“But you still get to decide what’s right and wrong for everybody else. Jesus, you sound just like your father.” He doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night arguing about the moral ambiguity of the transportation of questionably legal goods and it seems like Nathan does, like he would rather stick with the places he knows he’s got Duke in the wrong than admit that there’s no blame to be laid where it matters. “It was stupid. I know that. But I tried to fix it. If you can tell me what I should have done, be my guest.”
He’s quiet for a minute, giving up scrutinizing Duke for staring down at a loose thread on his jeans that seems especially fascinating. “I know it’s not...I mean, it’s totally your fault. You’re an idiot. But you know what I mean.”
“Then what? You want me to be the asshole who bailed on you?”
“Maybe.” Nathan reaches for his hand, and shifting his scrutiny to Duke’s fingers and the way they fit together. “Maybe it’s better than me being the asshole who bailed on you.”
“He never told you.”
“Not a word. I just assumed you…it’s not crazy to think you changed your mind.” He gestures around the room helplessly. “Your life is different than mine. I figured that’s what you wanted, kind of always thought it would be like that. Not that big a leap.”
“It should have been.” Duke ignores his look of surprise. It’s insulting, the picture of him Nathan has obviously been building up to explain what happened. It has nothing in common with reality and while part of him understands and has done the same thing it still stings. “I never gave you a reason to think that.”
“No, you never made it sound like my plans were the worst thing that could ever happen to you, Duke. Not once,” he says, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “Besides, it’s not like I had a lot to go on. You weren’t there and you’re not exactly easy to get in touch with. So not intentionally, but yeah. It didn’t seem so unbelievable, compared to everything else.” Nathan is still holding Duke’s hand tight, like he’s worried he might pull it away, tracing along the veins in his wrist in paths that shoot tiny shivers through his skin.
“Like the chief?”
He nods, his fingers tightening unconsciously. “He lied right to my face. Like it was nothing.”
“I don’t get it. He helped me out, seriously. I mean yeah, I could have gotten out of it on my own. But he came through, got me out of there the next day. And when I was home, he seemed like he felt sorry for me. Like a normal human being.”
It’s obvious that nothing he can say is going to soften the anger that’s radiating off Nathan, obvious in the stiffness of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw. There’s never been anything close to what Duke would guess is a normal relationship between the chief and his son and he’s not entirely sure why. Nathan had never been the kind of kid that makes parents crazy, but his father was always on him about being smarter, working hard, growing up and getting his head out of his ass. There was a constant narrative that Nathan didn’t have a clue about the real world and he’d better get one before it was too late, but it never matched up with reality. Most of the trouble Nathan ever got into in high school was because of Duke; he wasn’t perfect, obviously, but the chief could have done a lot worse as kids went. But the rhetoric was always there and unsurprisingly Nathan didn’t take it all that well. Even when he was living at home they only spoke when they had to, like strangers sharing a house instead of a family. Still, it’s hard to imagine indifference turning vindictive that way, especially since the chief never did anything to keep them apart before and Nathan is more than old enough to choose his own friends.
He says as much, but Nathan laughs without any humor in it, his voice bitter. “You really think that’s what this is about? You and me being friends?” When Duke responds only with a blank look he shakes his head, still laughing. “He’s not stupid, Duke. He’s not stupid and we weren’t careful, not like we should have been.”
“He never said anything.”
“No, he wouldn’t. What do you think all that shit about growing up and being a man and making something of myself was about? Why do you think he kept on me about being a cop, staying in Haven?” He looks uncomfortable spelling it out, like he would rather just assume that they both know what they were and why the chief had a problem with it. “It’s not because you’re...you know.”
There are roughly a hundred ways Duke could take that, but he goes with the obvious. “A guy.”
“I don’t think, anyway. He’s never been like that. It’s so he can keep his thumb on me, get me to do what he wants. He’s always wanted somebody to turn Haven over to someday. He thinks he’s got some mission there, like he owes the place something and I owe it too because he’s stuck with me for a son. You aren’t ever going to be part of that.”
It makes a strange amount of sense as he traces that year backwards in his head, awkward conversations and that handful of oddly pitying looks. At the time Duke assumed it was some trace of sympathy, something long unused and dull with age but at least still present. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time because it didn’t seem that strange that someone who watched him grow up and had known how close he and Nathan were might feel for him then. Logically though that wasn’t Nathan’s father and never had been. As nice as it was to think he helped him out of the goodness of his heart, it was easy enough to figure out knowing what Duke did now.
There are half a dozen things Duke could say, maybe should say - after all, it turns out that it was his fault. All of it, really, because if he hadn’t presented such a golden opportunity then everything would be different. Finally he goes with “I wrote you, you know. Pretty much every day. I guess you didn’t get any of the letters. They didn’t forward them, or whatever.”
“I got them.” Nathan won’t look at him again, his voice gone odd and tight. “I threw them away.”
“You threw them away.”
“I was pissed. I’m sorry.”
Every one of those letters had been an apology for errors Duke had no idea he was making, probably twenty different perishable ways to contact him, things he never worked up the nerve to say to Nathan, conversations they never had a chance to have. If he had bothered to open one of them…
He slouches back on Nathan’s couch, lets his head fall back and closes his eyes against the orange glow that’s starting to fill up the windows. What was a pleasant drunken buzz hours ago is slowly shifting into a dull pounding in his head and the taste of stale alcohol on his tongue. He can’t imagine that the Nathan he knew would just throw out his words like that, so forcefully indifferent that he wouldn’t even hope Duke might have had something to say for himself. The truth is that he knows nothing about Nathan’s life now. Whatever he tells himself, it’s the idea of Nathan he’s in love with at this point, something he half remembered and half made up. He has no idea if this changes anything at all. It’s nice to think it does, that they can just pick up where they left off like nothing ever happened. It’s nice to think about a lot of things because he’s lonely and nostalgic, but most of those things have barely a fingertip in reality.
“You’re not real,” he murmurs without realizing it at first, lost in the ache in his head and exhaustion.
“Pretty sure I am.” When Duke opens his eyes Nathan is standing over him, reaching down to pull him up. “It’s officially tomorrow. You can crash here, if you want.”
Duke takes the extended hands and then they’re standing much too close to each other, Nathan looking up at him expectantly as if he wants Duke to decide where everything stands for both of them and make it easy and himself blameless. Duke wants to touch him again, see how much he’s allowed before Nathan cuts him off. He thinks maybe he wouldn’t and it maybe wouldn’t that bad to have this for just tonight, that it wouldn’t be that hard to leave in the morning. At least it wouldn’t have to be dealt with until then, and it would be a clean break this time.
Instead he pulls away and steps back, wondering why he’s always the one putting space between them when it’s the last thing he wants to do. If Nathan is disappointed he doesn’t show it, just shows him where he keeps clean towels and tosses him a pair of sweats with a college logo on the hip. Ten minutes of hot water and steam erases whatever remaining inclination he might have had toward self-reflection and by the time he’s stepping out of the shower he’s barely got the ambition to rub the water out of his hair and do the finger toothpaste routine because his mouth tastes god awful by this point. Nathan’s couch looks about six inches to short to be comfortable but Duke knows he would be entirely content with the floor right now.
Nathan stands awkward in the door to his bedroom like he’s trying to decide something. Finally he says, “My couch sucks.”
“It’s ok. I’ve slept on worse.” Which is entirely true, and none of those sleeping arrangements involved any kind of proximity to Nathan as a bonus, although Duke omits that thought.
“Yeah, but I don’t want to hear you bitch about it tomorrow. Come on.”
They’ve probably slept in the same bed a million times since they were kids and it was never a big deal, Duke tells himself. Nathan is trying to be considerate. That's all. He still hesitates in the same space Nathan occupied a few seconds ago, knowing he looks just as awkward. “You sure?”
He shrugs as if to suggest he doesn’t really care one way or another. “It’s fine. Unless you still kick in your sleep.”
“Probably,” Duke laughs, and he knows he’s too tired to do anything but give in. He’s about to make some crack about Nathan finally getting a grown up bed, but there’s hardly any space between his head meeting the pillow and unconsciousness.
Duke wakes up to the sun on his face and heat just this side of too much surrounding him. It takes him a minute to remember where he is, but when he does he keeps his eyes closed and lets it sink in slow. Everything smells like Nathan, cheap soap and sweat dampened hair and something warm he can’t ever place exactly, something that smells like home. That would be enough if it were just sheets and pillowcases, but Nathan is spooned close against him, one arm thrown around his waist and his palm flattened across his chest. Duke’s not sure if he still kicks in his sleep, but apparently Nathan still clings. He settles into the heat between them, drifting in and out of awareness as he concentrates on Nathan’s breath soft against the nape of his neck. There’s no telling what time it is and he’s glad there’s nowhere he’s supposed to be other than here, doing this. He comes to with a start once, the effects of too much sleep on top of not enough for days combined with strange surroundings, and Nathan’s arm tightens around him reflexively as he murmurs some soothing nonsense in his sleep and presses a kiss against Duke’s shoulder blade. Maybe that’s all there will ever be, but right now it seems like enough.
The next time he’s awake enough to form coherent thoughts he’s intolerably warm, suffocating in too many blankets and too much proximity. It’s not easy extracting himself from Nathan’s grip, but he manages it without waking him beyond a few muttered syllables. Duke’s stomach is empty enough to feel hollow; he can’t remember the last thing he ate yesterday and he finds himself digging through Nathan’s refrigerator with high hopes soon destroyed. It’s a graveyard of takeout cartons, pizza boxes and plastic containers of things that might have been edible at some point. There’s nothing in the apartment that could be called food in its natural state and it’s obvious that Nathan has been living on pre-packaged crap and cereal. Which is kind of endearing in a way, and kind of reassuring. If Nathan is seeing anyone she’s certainly not the domestic type and she doesn’t keep a toothbrush here. He never really considers the idea that there could be a guy; it seems oddly outside the realm of possibility. He has no good reason to assume that Nathan’s sex life has been a mirror of his own for the last two years, but any male body he’s tried to touch has only proved a frustrating disappointment and all he can do is compare everything to Nathan. Both times were hopeless exercises in substitution and he would rather believe it’s been that way for both of them. Either way, it seems like Nathan really is living here alone and that pleases him much more than he would like to admit.
Nathan’s keys are easy to find, thrown on the counter with a stack of mail that Duke may or may not check to see if anyone else pays bills here. It’s a quick trip to the little grocery store on the corner and he’s back in ten minutes with the makings of breakfast, frying bacon and hoping to god the smoke detector doesn’t go off in another five. Maybe it’s a cheap ploy, but he’s been making Nathan breakfast when he spends the night since they were in middle school and he doesn’t see any reason to stop now. Besides, everything else has the appearance of having fallen oddly into place and picked up where they left off. There’s something seductive about the normalcy of it, the feeling that things have come around to where they ought to be without either of them having to do much about it. He’s not deluded enough to think this is anything other than wishful thinking, but it’s also the happiest he’s been in a long time and he’s not going to ruin it with common sense. At least trying not to set the place on fire gives him something to do other than wait for Nathan to wake up and decide exactly how this is going to work out, because Duke has no illusions that he’s any more in control of what happens between them than he ever was.
Eventually the sounds of blankets stirring and creaking bed frame are audible from the other room, and Nathan stumbles out groggy and only partially awake. He grumbles something as he moves past Duke and hitches himself onto the last sliver of remaining counter space in the tiny kitchen, snagging a piece of bacon and gazing at the pan on the stove with interest. His hair is sticking up in crazy twists and spikes and Duke is infinitely glad he has something to do with his hands that requires most of his attention. “Bisquick?” he asks cautiously, as if hoping against hope.
“No, they’re real. I know you can tell the difference. But I don’t know where you keep anything, so unless you want to eat them out of the pan get some plates?”
“I’m really ok with eating out of the pan.” Nathan looks like he means it, but he pulls open the cabinet over the sink without relinquishing his perch. It really is a small kitchen, so much so that it’s impossible for Duke to move without bumping into Nathan’s knees or brushing his shoulder. He gives up on dislodging him from the counter; it’s obvious that the lure of breakfast that doesn’t come out of a cardboard box has him glued to the spot and a plate on his lap is as civilized as it’s going to get. The first bite has Nathan closing his eyes and letting out a little sigh of happiness, but after that he’s all business about bolting down as much as he can as fast as he can.
“You know they’re not hard to make,” Duke offers once the initial frenzy has died down. “No magic involved.”
“I know.” He runs one long finger through a puddle of syrup at the edge of his plate and brings it to his mouth, slowly sucking it clean. Anyone else and Duke would swear it had to be deliberate, but that’s Nathan all over. He has no idea what he looks like and no amount of telling him will change that, which makes it that much more infuriating. “I just like when you -” he breaks off, looking down at the plate on his lap with renewed interest. “It’s nice when someone else makes you breakfast, that’s all.”
“I bet,” Duke laughs, breaking the last strip of bacon in half and handing a piece to Nathan. “Sounds nice.”
Nathan pushes the plate aside and there’s a moment’s pause before his hands are at Duke’s waist, pulling him forward between his legs. He tilts his face up for a kiss it’s obvious he expects and Duke gives it with little more thought than he gives breathing or blinking. It’s always been that way, just made sense to give Nathan whatever he wants. It’s not like he doesn’t want it too and God knows he owes him, for when they were kids, for the last two years. There’s none of the urgency that was there the last time, just the warm connection of soft lips and the sweetness of Nathan’s mouth.
He pulls away slowly, still holding Duke in place. “It is.”
Nathan looks like he’s about to lean in again and Duke is all about letting him, only the nagging worry in the back of his head is ruining the feeling of hard thigh under his hand. “Are we going to talk about this?”
“What,” he asks distractedly, covering Duke’s mouth with his own again as he tries to articulate exactly what it is they should be talking about. He’s rapidly losing his ability to care about anything other than how good it feels or do anything other than pull Nathan tight against him. “Later.”
“No, Nate…Nathan. Nathan.” Duke finally breaks away, forcibly pushing Nathan back. “What are we doing?”
The look Nathan gives him is caustic enough to etch glass. “If I have to explain it to you maybe we should stop…”
“You know what I mean. I haven’t seen you in two years and last night was….weird. I don’t -” he breaks off to pull Nathan’s hand away from his face, wondering if he’s finally lost his mind. “Ok, this is what I’m talking about. What the hell are we doing?”
“Does it matter?” he asks, annoyance clear in his voice. “You’re here now, who knows for how long. Just let it be. Isn’t that your thing anyway?”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Nathan doing his best to get out of this conversation, squirming out of Duke’s grip and lacing his fingers together at the nape of his neck. “I just want you while you’re here.”
It doesn’t matter what he says or does, Duke realizes with a sinking feeling. Nathan isn’t going to let go of the anger he’s held on to all this time. He can be mad at his father all he wants and it won’t make any difference. He won’t be mad at himself for never bothering to do so little as open an envelope. So that leaves Duke to take all his mistrust and hurt, and most importantly all the blame he won’t put on himself. Nathan’s got to tell himself that Duke is only temporary and not to be trusted, because that way there’s no way to get hurt and no way to be at fault when it becomes self-fulfilling prophecy.
“I didn’t leave you, Nathan.” Duke steps away far enough that it’s not going to be easy for Nathan to wrap around him again, already cringing at the contrast between that movement and his words. He doesn’t know how to say the things he could in self-defense and feels like he shouldn’t have to. After all, Nathan hasn’t and isn’t going to. Still, it’s all on the tip of his tongue, filling up his throat to bursting - I was in love with you then, maybe I could be little again, maybe I still am. It’s the familiar feeling of being at Nathan’s mercy, unwilling to be the one who gives too much, unable to get what he needs without it. Only it doesn’t feel good anymore, not like the way it did when he was scared to be the one that wanted them more. Back then he wouldn’t have changed it if he could have, but now...
“I know it doesn’t mean anything, I just want…I don’t expect anything,” he blurts out, words pushed together in a single blur that manages to sound pathetic and indignant all at once. “I know you.”
“Obviously not.”
“So that’s what you want to talk about? About how you’re going to stick around and what, live my boring life? You’re going to go straight, get a job, just like everybody else?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Or you could come with me.” He honestly hadn’t thought it through before the offer was out of his mouth, but it is what he wants. He wants it more than just about anything, he realizes, and he has since the first time Nathan left for school. “It doesn’t have to be either/or. We could work it out somehow.”
“Right. Everything will be great, you the criminal mastermind who can’t get through Canadian customs and me with half of a useless degree and forty-thousand dollars in student loan debt. What are we going to do, smuggle small time shit and live on the road? Or maybe we get a place somewhere and you come home every couple of months to make me miserable and apologize for things you’re not sorry for and we live like your parents until we hate each other. That’s probably the second best great idea you’ve had, Duke. You’re a fucking genius.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he says quietly, not quite looking at Nathan. Nathan who he knows he’s probably hurt this badly before, but has never done it to him until now. “It would be different.”
“This is why I’m the smart one.” It’s not funny this time, just bored statement of fact.
Disappointment wells up inside Duke like poison and floods him, making him question every stupid thing he’s done since last night. Something has happened to Nathan since the last time he saw him, twisted him up inside so that reality can’t interfere with the blockade he’s put up around himself, let alone compete with his protective fictions. It’s ugly and Duke hates it, and the part of him that is dumb and idealistic would like to stick around and chip away at it. Maybe excavate the part of Nathan that does know him better than anybody else does. But Nathan isn’t the only one who changed and Duke knows it, whether he likes it or not. It’s been a long time since he could afford to be that naïve about people. The truth is that he was right last night - they’re not the same people they were in high school. Like everyone else they’ve grown up, for better or for worse, and it’s just not possible to be so stupid and think that anything they had was permanent or unconditional.
“Ok,” he says, mostly because he has to say something or else the burning wetness that threatens to well up in his eyes is going to come out and he’s not letting Nathan see that, not now. All those times he told himself it was stupid to be the needy one and ignored it, assumed it made him a better person to be open and breakable that way, come back to him now like a slap in the face. Not for the first time he’s glad he travels light, dressed in his clothes from last night in a handful of minutes and not having to bother gathering anything beside his coat. He doesn’t say anything to Nathan as he leaves, even though he can feel the weight of his eyes at his back. Maybe he regrets something he’s said, maybe all of it, but Duke can’t let himself care. There’s nothing there worth looking back at and he already feels turned to salt inside.
--
read part 6