(no subject)
Title: DAMN YOU KERRI I mean... Wade's not so bad
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Nick/Wade (House of Wax)
Notes: THIS IS SO WRONG, THANKS A LOT KERRI! (and I'm sorry to anyone else that I'm inflicting this on. She's persistent, I tell ya!)
Nick Jones has a lot of secrets, which he thinks is to be expected of a man such as himself.
He doesn’t talk about the way that he lost his virginity to their babysitter at fourteen (well, he doesn’t talk about it often, anyhow), or the way that he and Carly took baths together until they were almost eight. And he swears up and down that he’ll kick Dalton’s ass if he ever tells anyone that Nick cried at sixteen when he smashed up his first car, a pretty lil’ Chevy Nova saved from the scrap heap.
But most of all, he certainly never, ever tells anyone about the night that Wade picked him up in that Hot Wheels car of his.
.
Nick’s only read one book in his life that he hasn’t minded. The Outsiders. He thinks he’s kinda like Soda, only better looking. But when he’d imagined Outsiders, he’d never imagined himself in this scene.
He’s lying on the ground and everything is fading out, fade to black as his grade nine drama teacher would’ve said before he’d been kicked out of class (told her to fuck off for giving Carly less than an A+, that snobby artsy fartsy bitch). He can feel the sharp bursts of pain in his side, right up near his ribs. The toe of a sneaker, maybe several sneakers, colliding with bone. All he can see is a collage of blue and white, letterman’s jackets, their school’s colours.
Mercifully, it stops just before he thinks he’s gonna. If he’d been lucid, alert, he’d know that he should be getting up and taking off. Instead, he’s dangling on to a thread of consciousness as blue and white comes back into his range of vision, and he flinches as a hand reaches out to pull him up.
Wade. Carly’s boyfriend. Her stupid ass hick good for nothing quarterback boyfriend. He’s pulling Nick towards his car, shouting something over his shoulder in that deep, affected tone that he must get when he’s trying to be tough. Soft hands - too soft for a man, this blessed pussy - help Nick until he’s sitting. He asks if Nick wants to go to the hospital, tries to insist in that fucking Good Samaritan way.
A few unmarked pills from the pocket of his hoodie and everything is coming in strong again, in bright swirls of colour and rays that blind like the sun when it’s just about to set.
Wade’s glowing golden in the driver’s seat, even with that puzzled look on his face. He mouths Nick’s name, but all Nick hears is the absence of sound ringing in his ears.
He leans in and it feels like he’s moving through quicksand; these drugs are sympathetic to his needs.
A quick, opiate haze kiss to Wade’s lips and Nick thinks so this is what kissing Carly would be like. Not that he wants to know, but…yeah. Weird. He can practically taste the line between blood and water on Wade’s lips as it dissipates.
.
Dalton blinks. He shakes his head, what the fuck, Nick without his lips even moving. “Why's that? I mean, you like me better than Wade…right?” He’s pleading with his eyes, in that fucked up way that Dalton has. He’s like a kid that’s been hit one too many times, and Nick should know that better than most.
Nick sighs heavily, and his insides are slowly filled with wet concrete. “Wade's not so bad.”
Dalton nods with acquiescence and looks out the window again. “Yeah, I like Wade, too.”
Rating: PG 13
Pairing: Nick/Wade (House of Wax)
Notes: THIS IS SO WRONG, THANKS A LOT KERRI! (and I'm sorry to anyone else that I'm inflicting this on. She's persistent, I tell ya!)
Nick Jones has a lot of secrets, which he thinks is to be expected of a man such as himself.
He doesn’t talk about the way that he lost his virginity to their babysitter at fourteen (well, he doesn’t talk about it often, anyhow), or the way that he and Carly took baths together until they were almost eight. And he swears up and down that he’ll kick Dalton’s ass if he ever tells anyone that Nick cried at sixteen when he smashed up his first car, a pretty lil’ Chevy Nova saved from the scrap heap.
But most of all, he certainly never, ever tells anyone about the night that Wade picked him up in that Hot Wheels car of his.
.
Nick’s only read one book in his life that he hasn’t minded. The Outsiders. He thinks he’s kinda like Soda, only better looking. But when he’d imagined Outsiders, he’d never imagined himself in this scene.
He’s lying on the ground and everything is fading out, fade to black as his grade nine drama teacher would’ve said before he’d been kicked out of class (told her to fuck off for giving Carly less than an A+, that snobby artsy fartsy bitch). He can feel the sharp bursts of pain in his side, right up near his ribs. The toe of a sneaker, maybe several sneakers, colliding with bone. All he can see is a collage of blue and white, letterman’s jackets, their school’s colours.
Mercifully, it stops just before he thinks he’s gonna. If he’d been lucid, alert, he’d know that he should be getting up and taking off. Instead, he’s dangling on to a thread of consciousness as blue and white comes back into his range of vision, and he flinches as a hand reaches out to pull him up.
Wade. Carly’s boyfriend. Her stupid ass hick good for nothing quarterback boyfriend. He’s pulling Nick towards his car, shouting something over his shoulder in that deep, affected tone that he must get when he’s trying to be tough. Soft hands - too soft for a man, this blessed pussy - help Nick until he’s sitting. He asks if Nick wants to go to the hospital, tries to insist in that fucking Good Samaritan way.
A few unmarked pills from the pocket of his hoodie and everything is coming in strong again, in bright swirls of colour and rays that blind like the sun when it’s just about to set.
Wade’s glowing golden in the driver’s seat, even with that puzzled look on his face. He mouths Nick’s name, but all Nick hears is the absence of sound ringing in his ears.
He leans in and it feels like he’s moving through quicksand; these drugs are sympathetic to his needs.
A quick, opiate haze kiss to Wade’s lips and Nick thinks so this is what kissing Carly would be like. Not that he wants to know, but…yeah. Weird. He can practically taste the line between blood and water on Wade’s lips as it dissipates.
.
Dalton blinks. He shakes his head, what the fuck, Nick without his lips even moving. “Why's that? I mean, you like me better than Wade…right?” He’s pleading with his eyes, in that fucked up way that Dalton has. He’s like a kid that’s been hit one too many times, and Nick should know that better than most.
Nick sighs heavily, and his insides are slowly filled with wet concrete. “Wade's not so bad.”
Dalton nods with acquiescence and looks out the window again. “Yeah, I like Wade, too.”