I'm home, but where's my heart
Title: I'm home, but where's my heart
Author: yumduece
Fandoms: Mysterious Skin, Warrior, Inception (based from AE pairing)
Pairing: Tommy/Neil
Rating: PG13 [ratings isn't my strong suit] (this chapter)
Word Count: 1.6k+
Summary: Warrior/Mysterious Skin Crossover AU! Tommy and Neil are moving in together, but not without drama.
Brief: I don't own anything except this story. Thanks to Osaki_Nana_707 for being my lovely beta! <3
Chapter 1
“Neil, Neil, we can’t take this. It’s not coming to the new house with us”, Tommy yells from under the bed. He’s holding a cassette tape. Neil’s cassette tape.From his coach. They’ve talked about Neil’s past and honestly Tommy prefers not to hear about it. It’s not that he’s not supportive or anything, it’s just that knowing that Neil suffered so much because of his fucking scum of a little league coach makes him want to fucking kill the bastard. Every night he prays that his mom is ok in heaven and that the fucking coach is rotting in the lowest level of hell.
“What are you trying to throw away now?” Neil says from the doorway, towel in hand. Tommy sits up on his haunches, back toward Neil, silent. Neil’s smile wavers as he approaches Tommy. “I mean, you can take it, but I’d prefer if you didn’t”, Tommy says running a finger over the tape. Neil, stands in front of Tommy, stares at the tape in Tommy’s hands. He drops the towel but otherwise doesn’t move. “We-”, Tommy starts to say, but Neil’s facial expression stops him in his tracks. He stands up, tape in hand. Neil’s eyes follow it.
“We can keep it if you want it. I mean, it’s yours. I was just asking really…” Tommy offers awkwardly.
“Um, we... I, I don’t know yet. Just give it to me, I’ll figure out what I want to do with it,” Neil stammers. Searching for the right words isn’t usually a problem for Neil McCormick, but this, Tommy standing in front of him with the one thing he has left from his childhood besides the memories in his hands, isn’t a usual thing.
Neil reaches out and tries to take it out of Tommy’s hands, but Tommy pulls back, holding the tape over his head.
“So, you’re keeping it then?” Tommy says, looking into Neil’s eyes, attempting to figure out what exactly is happening in his head right now. To Tommy, this tape is fucking trash, like the person who recorded it. I should've thrown the damn thing out when I found it, he thinks.
“I said I’ll figure it out”, Neil says, reaching for the tape, eyes never wavering, heat creeping up his spine and a hint of red spreading across his pale cheeks.
“Why would you want this piece of shit, Neil? How is this helping you move on, hm? How is this helping us?”
_________________________ . . . . . . _________________________
When Neil met Tommy he was wearing what Neil would come to find out was his usual attire, a tank top and sweats. He was leaning against the wall of a little hole-in-the-wall diner, bottle of water in hand, sweating. He looked like he’d just come from the gym (and probably had) and was incredibly gorgeous. It wasn’t Neil’s style to approach johns, but his legs moved for him as he crossed the street to meet the bulky man. And bulking he was. From across the street he looked big, but he was huge, pulsing veins and tattoos on his arms. The fucking tattoos. Normally Neil would find the tattoos almost cheesy, but with this man Neil felt like they had to have a story behind them. It was a story he was absolutely dying to hear.
“Well, don’t just stare, man. Is there something I can do for you?”
Shit. This man, whoever he is, made Neil nervous. Nothing made Neil McCormick nervous.
“Buddy, I asked you a question. Can I help you with something?”
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
The man was silent for a moment before saying, “…Not from here.”
“Don’t talk much do you?”
“Depends on who I’m talking to,” the man said, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket and putting it in his mouth, letting it sit on his bottom lip.
Until this moment Neil didn’t even realize how beautiful and plush this man’s lips were. I want that mouth on mine. I need that mouth on mine.
“I’ll tell you what, since you seem to be a little nervous, let’s go back to my hotel. It’s about a block or so from here,” the man said, kicking off the wall and starting down the street. He didn’t even have to look back to know that Neil was following him. Neil McCormick, was not in control of the situation. This was a bit of a terrifying first...
(Well, it wasn’t the first time… but Neil never liked to think about that too much.)
“So, what brings you to NYC? Trying to become an actor? Followed some chick?” Neil asked, making small talk.
The man just chuckled and kept walking. He was silent for a beat and then decided to say, “None of the above. I’m here for a fight.”
Neil scoffed, “You came all the way to New York to fight someone. Fights back home weren’t enough for you, or did you just beat every guys ass back home?”
The man stopped, turned around and said, almost darkly, “Something like that.”
Neil, startled by the sudden stop and seriousness in his answer, started to question whether following this guy was a good decision. This man could kill him. He definitely could, but something was telling him to stay.
“You’re fine kid, don’t worry about it. Speaking of, how old are you anyway?”
“Old enough to not be a kid anymore, thanks”, Neil said, playing the part as he was apt to do. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but his looks didn’t necessarily lead someone to believe that fact. Most of his johns preferred to think he was a child anyway, so it helped for business in any sense. It was almost a little off-putting to think that this man didn’t have that preference.
The man snorted and started walking again, Neil following like a stray dog. In less than a block, they came to a hotel.
A fucking expensive hotel.
This guys must have kicked a lot of ass back home, Neil thought, marveling at the glass doors and decorative entryway. There’s even a bellhop, and Neil didn’t even think those existed anymore.
They walked inside, towards the elevators. Neil was shoulder to shoulder with the man now in a sad attempt to look like the man’s equal. They caught the elevator just as the doors were beginning to close, and suddenly Neil was nervous again.
“So, are going to tell me what you really do for a living? …And don’t say fighting because that can’t possibly mean you can afford this. Unless you’re a hitman or something,” Neil stopped and started looking at the floor. What if this man is a hitman? He started thinking about every person in his life that could of possibly wanted to kill him. There were quite a few people, surely, even though no names come to mind right now. Instinct told him to look for an exit, but they were in an elevator, so not much luck.
The doors opened on the 19th floor, the penthouse suite. For some reason, even the fact that this was the fanciest place anyone has ever taken him didn’t kill the idea that he was about to be murdered by this hulk of a man and shoved in a trash compactor or something.
“I’m not a hitman, kid,” the man said, turning towards Neil and extending his hand to him, “The names Tommy. Tommy Riordan”
_________________________ . . . . . . _________________________
Neil puts his arm down and cocks his head to the left. That hint of red is no longer a hint. “Us? What the fuck do you mean us? This is about me, Tommy. Me. Not you. You weren’t there. You weren’t there. You don’t know how I fucking feel!” His voice is cracking. Tears are sitting on the edges of his eyelids, waiting for the final push over the ledge. “GIVE ME THE FUCKING TAPE, TOMMY!” Neil yells at the top of his lungs, and the tears slide down his cheeks, hands balled into tight fists, and he stomps the ground with his foot like a child who didn’t get his way.
“No, you don’t fucking need it. Look what it’s doing to you. You’re.throwing a tantrum. You need to get over it, Neil,” Tommy says as he turns away from Neil and heads toward the living room.
Neil sprints after him, attempting to regain his composure despite the overwhelming desire to just attack attack attack (which would be very stupid considering Tommy’s training), “Just give me the tape Tommy!”
“No,” Tommy says, opening the kitchen window. He looks down at the people and cars below him and he knows anything that fell from this height would indeed break. “You don’t need it. I’m just trying to help you.”
Neil stops dead in his tracks, standing next to the stove, facing Tommy and the window. “If you throw that out there, you can get your shit and leave,” his voice is intense and angry, but something doesn’t feel quite so in his expression.
Tommy turns to face Neil, poker face on. He wouldn’t dare, Tommy thinks to himself.
“This isn’t even about this damn thing,” Tommy says, gesturing to the tape. “It’s about him. After all the shit I’ve been through with you, you’re going to choose him over me. Him. He made your life hell, Neil, and you’re choosing him! Over me? Tell me Neil, is this what you think love is? This fucking tape?” Tommy says, voice calm but gaze piercing into Neil’s. Tommy had enough rage underneath his surface to frighten. He didn’t have to raise his voice to do so.
Silence seeps into the room. Only the hum of the air conditioner can be heard. Neil shifted his balance from foot to foot, feeling like hours had passed as they stood there, watching each other, waiting for the answer Neil was sure wasn’t going to come out.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Tommy says, and he sounds almost as though he’s expected it.
Author: yumduece
Fandoms: Mysterious Skin, Warrior, Inception (based from AE pairing)
Pairing: Tommy/Neil
Rating: PG13 [ratings isn't my strong suit] (this chapter)
Word Count: 1.6k+
Summary: Warrior/Mysterious Skin Crossover AU! Tommy and Neil are moving in together, but not without drama.
Brief: I don't own anything except this story. Thanks to Osaki_Nana_707 for being my lovely beta! <3
Chapter 1
“Neil, Neil, we can’t take this. It’s not coming to the new house with us”, Tommy yells from under the bed. He’s holding a cassette tape. Neil’s cassette tape.From his coach. They’ve talked about Neil’s past and honestly Tommy prefers not to hear about it. It’s not that he’s not supportive or anything, it’s just that knowing that Neil suffered so much because of his fucking scum of a little league coach makes him want to fucking kill the bastard. Every night he prays that his mom is ok in heaven and that the fucking coach is rotting in the lowest level of hell.
“What are you trying to throw away now?” Neil says from the doorway, towel in hand. Tommy sits up on his haunches, back toward Neil, silent. Neil’s smile wavers as he approaches Tommy. “I mean, you can take it, but I’d prefer if you didn’t”, Tommy says running a finger over the tape. Neil, stands in front of Tommy, stares at the tape in Tommy’s hands. He drops the towel but otherwise doesn’t move. “We-”, Tommy starts to say, but Neil’s facial expression stops him in his tracks. He stands up, tape in hand. Neil’s eyes follow it.
“We can keep it if you want it. I mean, it’s yours. I was just asking really…” Tommy offers awkwardly.
“Um, we... I, I don’t know yet. Just give it to me, I’ll figure out what I want to do with it,” Neil stammers. Searching for the right words isn’t usually a problem for Neil McCormick, but this, Tommy standing in front of him with the one thing he has left from his childhood besides the memories in his hands, isn’t a usual thing.
Neil reaches out and tries to take it out of Tommy’s hands, but Tommy pulls back, holding the tape over his head.
“So, you’re keeping it then?” Tommy says, looking into Neil’s eyes, attempting to figure out what exactly is happening in his head right now. To Tommy, this tape is fucking trash, like the person who recorded it. I should've thrown the damn thing out when I found it, he thinks.
“I said I’ll figure it out”, Neil says, reaching for the tape, eyes never wavering, heat creeping up his spine and a hint of red spreading across his pale cheeks.
“Why would you want this piece of shit, Neil? How is this helping you move on, hm? How is this helping us?”
_________________________ . . . . . . _________________________
When Neil met Tommy he was wearing what Neil would come to find out was his usual attire, a tank top and sweats. He was leaning against the wall of a little hole-in-the-wall diner, bottle of water in hand, sweating. He looked like he’d just come from the gym (and probably had) and was incredibly gorgeous. It wasn’t Neil’s style to approach johns, but his legs moved for him as he crossed the street to meet the bulky man. And bulking he was. From across the street he looked big, but he was huge, pulsing veins and tattoos on his arms. The fucking tattoos. Normally Neil would find the tattoos almost cheesy, but with this man Neil felt like they had to have a story behind them. It was a story he was absolutely dying to hear.
“Well, don’t just stare, man. Is there something I can do for you?”
Shit. This man, whoever he is, made Neil nervous. Nothing made Neil McCormick nervous.
“Buddy, I asked you a question. Can I help you with something?”
“I haven’t seen you around here before.”
The man was silent for a moment before saying, “…Not from here.”
“Don’t talk much do you?”
“Depends on who I’m talking to,” the man said, pulling a toothpick out of his pocket and putting it in his mouth, letting it sit on his bottom lip.
Until this moment Neil didn’t even realize how beautiful and plush this man’s lips were. I want that mouth on mine. I need that mouth on mine.
“I’ll tell you what, since you seem to be a little nervous, let’s go back to my hotel. It’s about a block or so from here,” the man said, kicking off the wall and starting down the street. He didn’t even have to look back to know that Neil was following him. Neil McCormick, was not in control of the situation. This was a bit of a terrifying first...
(Well, it wasn’t the first time… but Neil never liked to think about that too much.)
“So, what brings you to NYC? Trying to become an actor? Followed some chick?” Neil asked, making small talk.
The man just chuckled and kept walking. He was silent for a beat and then decided to say, “None of the above. I’m here for a fight.”
Neil scoffed, “You came all the way to New York to fight someone. Fights back home weren’t enough for you, or did you just beat every guys ass back home?”
The man stopped, turned around and said, almost darkly, “Something like that.”
Neil, startled by the sudden stop and seriousness in his answer, started to question whether following this guy was a good decision. This man could kill him. He definitely could, but something was telling him to stay.
“You’re fine kid, don’t worry about it. Speaking of, how old are you anyway?”
“Old enough to not be a kid anymore, thanks”, Neil said, playing the part as he was apt to do. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but his looks didn’t necessarily lead someone to believe that fact. Most of his johns preferred to think he was a child anyway, so it helped for business in any sense. It was almost a little off-putting to think that this man didn’t have that preference.
The man snorted and started walking again, Neil following like a stray dog. In less than a block, they came to a hotel.
A fucking expensive hotel.
This guys must have kicked a lot of ass back home, Neil thought, marveling at the glass doors and decorative entryway. There’s even a bellhop, and Neil didn’t even think those existed anymore.
They walked inside, towards the elevators. Neil was shoulder to shoulder with the man now in a sad attempt to look like the man’s equal. They caught the elevator just as the doors were beginning to close, and suddenly Neil was nervous again.
“So, are going to tell me what you really do for a living? …And don’t say fighting because that can’t possibly mean you can afford this. Unless you’re a hitman or something,” Neil stopped and started looking at the floor. What if this man is a hitman? He started thinking about every person in his life that could of possibly wanted to kill him. There were quite a few people, surely, even though no names come to mind right now. Instinct told him to look for an exit, but they were in an elevator, so not much luck.
The doors opened on the 19th floor, the penthouse suite. For some reason, even the fact that this was the fanciest place anyone has ever taken him didn’t kill the idea that he was about to be murdered by this hulk of a man and shoved in a trash compactor or something.
“I’m not a hitman, kid,” the man said, turning towards Neil and extending his hand to him, “The names Tommy. Tommy Riordan”
_________________________ . . . . . . _________________________
Neil puts his arm down and cocks his head to the left. That hint of red is no longer a hint. “Us? What the fuck do you mean us? This is about me, Tommy. Me. Not you. You weren’t there. You weren’t there. You don’t know how I fucking feel!” His voice is cracking. Tears are sitting on the edges of his eyelids, waiting for the final push over the ledge. “GIVE ME THE FUCKING TAPE, TOMMY!” Neil yells at the top of his lungs, and the tears slide down his cheeks, hands balled into tight fists, and he stomps the ground with his foot like a child who didn’t get his way.
“No, you don’t fucking need it. Look what it’s doing to you. You’re.throwing a tantrum. You need to get over it, Neil,” Tommy says as he turns away from Neil and heads toward the living room.
Neil sprints after him, attempting to regain his composure despite the overwhelming desire to just attack attack attack (which would be very stupid considering Tommy’s training), “Just give me the tape Tommy!”
“No,” Tommy says, opening the kitchen window. He looks down at the people and cars below him and he knows anything that fell from this height would indeed break. “You don’t need it. I’m just trying to help you.”
Neil stops dead in his tracks, standing next to the stove, facing Tommy and the window. “If you throw that out there, you can get your shit and leave,” his voice is intense and angry, but something doesn’t feel quite so in his expression.
Tommy turns to face Neil, poker face on. He wouldn’t dare, Tommy thinks to himself.
“This isn’t even about this damn thing,” Tommy says, gesturing to the tape. “It’s about him. After all the shit I’ve been through with you, you’re going to choose him over me. Him. He made your life hell, Neil, and you’re choosing him! Over me? Tell me Neil, is this what you think love is? This fucking tape?” Tommy says, voice calm but gaze piercing into Neil’s. Tommy had enough rage underneath his surface to frighten. He didn’t have to raise his voice to do so.
Silence seeps into the room. Only the hum of the air conditioner can be heard. Neil shifted his balance from foot to foot, feeling like hours had passed as they stood there, watching each other, waiting for the answer Neil was sure wasn’t going to come out.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Tommy says, and he sounds almost as though he’s expected it.