New Philosophy
Title: New Philosophy
Characters: Chuck & Nate
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/1,823
One-Line Excerpt: "Or are you so lovesick you no longer have need of a companion lacking in C-Cups and glimmering blonde hair?”
“Are we waiting for something?”
“Hmm…” Chuck tips his head back a little, eyes closed, feels the sun, “Waiting…?”
“Uh-huh?” Nate glances over at Chuck. His very best friend who had knocked on the front door and said come with me before walking past him into the house and leading him outside to the yard; where they’d been… sitting.
Maybe he should have asked what they were doing before following. “It’s been like… ten minutes,” he adds, “Are we waiting for something?” He repeats, looks around the yard. They’re at the Hampton’s in his mother’s meticulously maintained garden and he’s not sure what’s going on. He wasn’t expecting Chuck and Chuck is oddly quiet. He bends his elbows on his knees, clasps his hands together, stares down at the grass for a beat, wonders if something is wrong, “What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s been four minutes, Nathaniel.” Chuck counters dryly; doesn’t answer the question.
And Nate blinks, rubs his knees restlessly. “Oh.”
Chuck smiles faintly, doesn’t open his eyes. “It occurs to me… we’ve been remiss.” He says slowly, lets the words trickle out of his mouth; lets the sun warm him.
Nate stares at his friend’s profile for a moment and then laughs beside him, “Oh have we?” He teases. “What have we been remiss in?”
“This.” Chuck opens his eyes and looks over at Nathaniel. It’s the summer and Blair has jetted off (possibly with the expectation of him following her, but that is neither here nor there) to Europe and Serena has taken possession of Nathaniel’s time as though it were something due to her and not something variable that perhaps other’s might like to partake of… not that Nathaniel is complaining, “Or are you so lovesick you no longer have need of a companion lacking in C-Cups and glimmering blonde hair?” He offers sardonically, arcs an eyebrow slightly.
Nate tilts his head a little, takes a moment to decipher Chuck’s sentences and then he smiles, “Oh…” he murmurs, strangely relieved-nothing’s wrong. “You miss me,” he teases, nods emphatically, “I see.”
Chuck smirks a little, eyes on the other boy’s face, “Do you?” He prods.
“Uh-huh, you’re thinking of coloring your hair to get my attention,” Nate concludes sagely, smiling wider, “That’s it isn’t it? But really, you don’t have to; I’m totally good with your current hair color choice.” He reaches over and rubs at Chuck’s hair fondly, “Maybe you could use a haircut,” he adds, tugs lightly on the strands before folding his hands over his knees again. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to get me to notice you,” he continues, “I’m thinking the pink shirt and ascot are more than enough, you know.”
“I’m thinking we should light up.” Chuck says calmly, after Nate’s finished his long, run-on, completely inane sentence.
Nate stares, still smiling. “Oh…” he drawls and then laughs, “I like the way you think, man!” He reaches a hand over and pats Chuck’s back. “You’re right,” he nods, “Very remiss.”
He hasn’t seen Chuck all that much since school ended; mostly just in passing and something like this: sitting on the grass having a smoke with his best friend, it’s something he didn’t realize he wanted to do until right this moment.
Chuck gives him an amused stare and retrieves two spliff’s from the inside pocket of his jacket. A minute later and Chuck’s bringing one to his lips, lighting it, inhaling, before he passes it to Nate.
Nate takes it with a smile; elbows still on his bended knees, brings it to his own lips; he shuts his eyes for his first drag, turns all his focus in on the feel of the smoke, on holding it, on exhaling slowly, on the sensations, the effects, of the moment.
Chuck watches him for a beat; there’s a comfort in watching emotions play across Nathaniel’s face, in knowing there’s no deceit, no game, there. There are times he cannot decipher Nathaniel’s thoughts, his motivations, but the emotions, what he’s feeling, is always broadcasted clearly on his best friend’s face.
He inhales once more, his own joint this time; exhales slowly, and then, “You’re dating, my sis.”
Nate opens his eyes, lifts his gaze to the sky, before murmuring, “Hmm-yup… cool, huh?”
Chuck smiles wryly, “I suppose…”
“You’re… not dating my…” he blinks, stops, that’s not right. He starts over, “You’re not dating your…” but trails off, that’s not right either, “You’re not dating the…” he pauses, isn’t sure that’s right either- but it’ll work, “Blair.” He finishes.
Chuck’s smile dims the tiniest bit. “Hm-no,” he offers noncommittally.
Nate shrugs, lays his cheek against one arm; brings the joint to his lips again, “S’not so cool.”
Chuck shrugs too, tilts his face up again, towards the sun. “Suppose not.”
Nate blinks and wonders vaguely if he should tell Chuck about not really dating Serena… but then Chuck blows a ring of smoke, a perfect ring, and he forgets.
“That’s so cool.” He mumbles instead.
Chuck turns his face towards Nathaniel. Even a slightly drugged haze he is certain he’s taught him how to do this before, more than once. “Make this shape with your lips,” he instructs again, demonstrates.
Nate nods against his hand; takes another drag, “Hmh…”
“And then you blow…” Chuck continues; brings the joint to his lips and demonstrates the entire process.
“My tongue’s in the way…” Nate complains when he tries it.
“Move your tongue,” Chuck advises seriously.
“Where?”
“Wherever you want.”
“Where’s yours?”
“In the middle.”
Nate cuts his gaze to Chuck, “Show me…?”
And Chuck smirks, eyes dropping to Nate’s mouth, “You’re such a trial.”
Nate widens his eyes, “I just thought you’d want to show me the proper to technique of-”
Chuck reaches over and slips a hand behind Nate’s head, jerks his forward and silences him with his mouth; it’s an opened-mouth kiss that lasts a few seconds longer than any plain instruction would necessitate. Chuck leans back a little, hand still in Nate’s hair, “You got it?” He asks softly, smirk turning into a genuine smile.
Nate grins, “Think so, yeah…”
They settle back against the grass, are a little past mid-way with the spliff’s, and Nate scoots closer to Chuck on the grass, brings the joint to his lip, inhales and then slowly exhales a perfect ring.
“I’m so cool.” He laughs softly as the smoke dissipates in front of them.
“You are,” Chuck agrees, nudges him with his elbow.
“I’m hot.”
Chuck laughs, “That too, Nathaniel.”
“No-” he ducks his head and looks up at Chuck through his lashes, “I’m hot. It’s hot.”
Chuck licks his lips, feels it too suddenly; a flush a heat up his back and into his face, “Me too…” he agrees.
“You’re wearing jacket,” Nate examines Chuck’s outfit more closely, “That’s weird.”
“It goes with the pants,” Chuck defends, looks Nathaniel, “You’re wearing a sweater.”
“My Mom made me,” Nate pouts, “We had to entertain this morning.”
“You could take it off now.” Chuck suggests.
And Nate lifts his head, smiles at Chuck delightedly, “I could! Can! And you- let’s strip.”
Chuck smiles back; and they drop the used up stubs in the grass and shed a layer of clothes behind them. Nate drops back onto it, stares up at the sky and a beat later, Chuck follows suit.
On their backs, side-by-side, eyes on the passing clouds, the words just slip out of Nate’s lips, “I’m not really, really.”
The words make no sense to Chuck, but he turns his head towards Nathaniel anyway, “Not really, really?”
Nate turns his head, looks at Chuck, “Nope.”
“Not really, really, what?”
“Dating Serena.”
The confession doesn’t surprise Chuck much; he’s not exactly sure what it is he expects when his own personal Ken and Barbie start bumping uglies, but this summer’s performance is not it- a bit too neat, if you ask him. Still, he wonders, “Why not?” The playing field is essentially empty, after all.
Nate blinks. “I don’t… know.” He frowns.
And Chuck rolls his eyes a little, opens his mouth to speak when Nate rushes on.
“Oh wait, no- yeah, I do. She’s sad,” he informs Chuck, “Really sad and we’re friends, really friends and I’m hooking-up with this totally hot babe… s’a secret.”
Chuck’s eyebrows rise, “You have a new paramour?”
Nate nods a little, “Yeah, she’s hot. ‘cept she’s kinda married.”
“Nathaniel,” Chuck laughs, “I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” Nate blinks, “Cool. But ya know, rather… Serena.” He sighs.
“So date Serena.”
“I can’t.”
“Hm… why not?”
“Just told you, Chuck.” Nate huffs a little. Sometimes Chuck doesn’t listen to him. “And you’re not dating Blair, so.”
Chuck waits for more and when nothing else is forthcoming, he smirks, “As arguments go, I’m afraid that was dismal,” he teases lightly, gazes back at the sky.
“We should light up again.” Nate suggests, picks up the blunt end of his joint.
“Don’t have anymore. Later.”
“We could light something else up.”
“Anything, you mean?”
“Yeah; like… where’s Blair?”
“How would I kno-”
“Dude.” Nate cuts in skeptically.
Chuck’s silent for a beat and then relents, “Paris.”
“So yeah. There.”
“Light up Paris?”
“Uh-huh.”
Chuck opens his eyes just a slit, but doesn’t turn his head, “With… fire?”
Nate frowns, “With spliff’s, man.” He waves the blown-out stub in the air a little to show how it’s flameless.
Oh, Chuck shuts his eyes again, remains silent; that makes more sense - probably.
“Fire would be… dangerous.” Nate adds.
“She’s dangerous,” Chuck whispers, throat tight suddenly. “She’s fire.”
Nate blinks again and finally just shuts his eyes too; thinks of fire and Blair and swallows hard. “Serena’s not…” but he trails off mid-defense, wonders suddenly if Chuck isn’t right. Because a year later and even without trying, he can still remember, still feel, the heat of her pressed against him.
“She burns.” He amends quietly.
Chuck breathes out slowly, “Brands.”
And in that moment, silent and still, sun on their faces and snuffed out spliff’s at their sides, it feels like they’re talking about the same girl.
The moment passes; and Nate blows out a breath, “Fuck.”
The exclamation catches Chuck by surprise, he opens his eyes a little, agrees, “Yeah.”
And Nate shakes his head slightly. “No, like: fuck,” he repeats more emphatically, turns his head to look at Chuck, “Fuck it.”
Chuck locks eyes with him and then smiles a little, “New philosophy, Nathaniel? Because I must say, you might find that one not entirely applicable to every area of your life.”
Nate laughs and reaches over to shove Chuck’s shoulder lightly. “You’re wearing an ascot, how’s that applicable to anything?”
Chuck gives him an indignant look, opens his mouth to explain the dignified history of the ascot- but Nate reaches over and playfully tugs at the fabric around his neck, so he settles for swatting at his hands and tugging it back. It's tug-of-war for a beat and he catches Nate's gaze, lets his smile widen, because yeah, okay- at least for a while: fuck it.
Characters: Chuck & Nate
Rating/Word Count: PG-13/1,823
One-Line Excerpt: "Or are you so lovesick you no longer have need of a companion lacking in C-Cups and glimmering blonde hair?”
“Are we waiting for something?”
“Hmm…” Chuck tips his head back a little, eyes closed, feels the sun, “Waiting…?”
“Uh-huh?” Nate glances over at Chuck. His very best friend who had knocked on the front door and said come with me before walking past him into the house and leading him outside to the yard; where they’d been… sitting.
Maybe he should have asked what they were doing before following. “It’s been like… ten minutes,” he adds, “Are we waiting for something?” He repeats, looks around the yard. They’re at the Hampton’s in his mother’s meticulously maintained garden and he’s not sure what’s going on. He wasn’t expecting Chuck and Chuck is oddly quiet. He bends his elbows on his knees, clasps his hands together, stares down at the grass for a beat, wonders if something is wrong, “What’s goin’ on?”
“It’s been four minutes, Nathaniel.” Chuck counters dryly; doesn’t answer the question.
And Nate blinks, rubs his knees restlessly. “Oh.”
Chuck smiles faintly, doesn’t open his eyes. “It occurs to me… we’ve been remiss.” He says slowly, lets the words trickle out of his mouth; lets the sun warm him.
Nate stares at his friend’s profile for a moment and then laughs beside him, “Oh have we?” He teases. “What have we been remiss in?”
“This.” Chuck opens his eyes and looks over at Nathaniel. It’s the summer and Blair has jetted off (possibly with the expectation of him following her, but that is neither here nor there) to Europe and Serena has taken possession of Nathaniel’s time as though it were something due to her and not something variable that perhaps other’s might like to partake of… not that Nathaniel is complaining, “Or are you so lovesick you no longer have need of a companion lacking in C-Cups and glimmering blonde hair?” He offers sardonically, arcs an eyebrow slightly.
Nate tilts his head a little, takes a moment to decipher Chuck’s sentences and then he smiles, “Oh…” he murmurs, strangely relieved-nothing’s wrong. “You miss me,” he teases, nods emphatically, “I see.”
Chuck smirks a little, eyes on the other boy’s face, “Do you?” He prods.
“Uh-huh, you’re thinking of coloring your hair to get my attention,” Nate concludes sagely, smiling wider, “That’s it isn’t it? But really, you don’t have to; I’m totally good with your current hair color choice.” He reaches over and rubs at Chuck’s hair fondly, “Maybe you could use a haircut,” he adds, tugs lightly on the strands before folding his hands over his knees again. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to get me to notice you,” he continues, “I’m thinking the pink shirt and ascot are more than enough, you know.”
“I’m thinking we should light up.” Chuck says calmly, after Nate’s finished his long, run-on, completely inane sentence.
Nate stares, still smiling. “Oh…” he drawls and then laughs, “I like the way you think, man!” He reaches a hand over and pats Chuck’s back. “You’re right,” he nods, “Very remiss.”
He hasn’t seen Chuck all that much since school ended; mostly just in passing and something like this: sitting on the grass having a smoke with his best friend, it’s something he didn’t realize he wanted to do until right this moment.
Chuck gives him an amused stare and retrieves two spliff’s from the inside pocket of his jacket. A minute later and Chuck’s bringing one to his lips, lighting it, inhaling, before he passes it to Nate.
Nate takes it with a smile; elbows still on his bended knees, brings it to his own lips; he shuts his eyes for his first drag, turns all his focus in on the feel of the smoke, on holding it, on exhaling slowly, on the sensations, the effects, of the moment.
Chuck watches him for a beat; there’s a comfort in watching emotions play across Nathaniel’s face, in knowing there’s no deceit, no game, there. There are times he cannot decipher Nathaniel’s thoughts, his motivations, but the emotions, what he’s feeling, is always broadcasted clearly on his best friend’s face.
He inhales once more, his own joint this time; exhales slowly, and then, “You’re dating, my sis.”
Nate opens his eyes, lifts his gaze to the sky, before murmuring, “Hmm-yup… cool, huh?”
Chuck smiles wryly, “I suppose…”
“You’re… not dating my…” he blinks, stops, that’s not right. He starts over, “You’re not dating your…” but trails off, that’s not right either, “You’re not dating the…” he pauses, isn’t sure that’s right either- but it’ll work, “Blair.” He finishes.
Chuck’s smile dims the tiniest bit. “Hm-no,” he offers noncommittally.
Nate shrugs, lays his cheek against one arm; brings the joint to his lips again, “S’not so cool.”
Chuck shrugs too, tilts his face up again, towards the sun. “Suppose not.”
Nate blinks and wonders vaguely if he should tell Chuck about not really dating Serena… but then Chuck blows a ring of smoke, a perfect ring, and he forgets.
“That’s so cool.” He mumbles instead.
Chuck turns his face towards Nathaniel. Even a slightly drugged haze he is certain he’s taught him how to do this before, more than once. “Make this shape with your lips,” he instructs again, demonstrates.
Nate nods against his hand; takes another drag, “Hmh…”
“And then you blow…” Chuck continues; brings the joint to his lips and demonstrates the entire process.
“My tongue’s in the way…” Nate complains when he tries it.
“Move your tongue,” Chuck advises seriously.
“Where?”
“Wherever you want.”
“Where’s yours?”
“In the middle.”
Nate cuts his gaze to Chuck, “Show me…?”
And Chuck smirks, eyes dropping to Nate’s mouth, “You’re such a trial.”
Nate widens his eyes, “I just thought you’d want to show me the proper to technique of-”
Chuck reaches over and slips a hand behind Nate’s head, jerks his forward and silences him with his mouth; it’s an opened-mouth kiss that lasts a few seconds longer than any plain instruction would necessitate. Chuck leans back a little, hand still in Nate’s hair, “You got it?” He asks softly, smirk turning into a genuine smile.
Nate grins, “Think so, yeah…”
They settle back against the grass, are a little past mid-way with the spliff’s, and Nate scoots closer to Chuck on the grass, brings the joint to his lip, inhales and then slowly exhales a perfect ring.
“I’m so cool.” He laughs softly as the smoke dissipates in front of them.
“You are,” Chuck agrees, nudges him with his elbow.
“I’m hot.”
Chuck laughs, “That too, Nathaniel.”
“No-” he ducks his head and looks up at Chuck through his lashes, “I’m hot. It’s hot.”
Chuck licks his lips, feels it too suddenly; a flush a heat up his back and into his face, “Me too…” he agrees.
“You’re wearing jacket,” Nate examines Chuck’s outfit more closely, “That’s weird.”
“It goes with the pants,” Chuck defends, looks Nathaniel, “You’re wearing a sweater.”
“My Mom made me,” Nate pouts, “We had to entertain this morning.”
“You could take it off now.” Chuck suggests.
And Nate lifts his head, smiles at Chuck delightedly, “I could! Can! And you- let’s strip.”
Chuck smiles back; and they drop the used up stubs in the grass and shed a layer of clothes behind them. Nate drops back onto it, stares up at the sky and a beat later, Chuck follows suit.
On their backs, side-by-side, eyes on the passing clouds, the words just slip out of Nate’s lips, “I’m not really, really.”
The words make no sense to Chuck, but he turns his head towards Nathaniel anyway, “Not really, really?”
Nate turns his head, looks at Chuck, “Nope.”
“Not really, really, what?”
“Dating Serena.”
The confession doesn’t surprise Chuck much; he’s not exactly sure what it is he expects when his own personal Ken and Barbie start bumping uglies, but this summer’s performance is not it- a bit too neat, if you ask him. Still, he wonders, “Why not?” The playing field is essentially empty, after all.
Nate blinks. “I don’t… know.” He frowns.
And Chuck rolls his eyes a little, opens his mouth to speak when Nate rushes on.
“Oh wait, no- yeah, I do. She’s sad,” he informs Chuck, “Really sad and we’re friends, really friends and I’m hooking-up with this totally hot babe… s’a secret.”
Chuck’s eyebrows rise, “You have a new paramour?”
Nate nods a little, “Yeah, she’s hot. ‘cept she’s kinda married.”
“Nathaniel,” Chuck laughs, “I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” Nate blinks, “Cool. But ya know, rather… Serena.” He sighs.
“So date Serena.”
“I can’t.”
“Hm… why not?”
“Just told you, Chuck.” Nate huffs a little. Sometimes Chuck doesn’t listen to him. “And you’re not dating Blair, so.”
Chuck waits for more and when nothing else is forthcoming, he smirks, “As arguments go, I’m afraid that was dismal,” he teases lightly, gazes back at the sky.
“We should light up again.” Nate suggests, picks up the blunt end of his joint.
“Don’t have anymore. Later.”
“We could light something else up.”
“Anything, you mean?”
“Yeah; like… where’s Blair?”
“How would I kno-”
“Dude.” Nate cuts in skeptically.
Chuck’s silent for a beat and then relents, “Paris.”
“So yeah. There.”
“Light up Paris?”
“Uh-huh.”
Chuck opens his eyes just a slit, but doesn’t turn his head, “With… fire?”
Nate frowns, “With spliff’s, man.” He waves the blown-out stub in the air a little to show how it’s flameless.
Oh, Chuck shuts his eyes again, remains silent; that makes more sense - probably.
“Fire would be… dangerous.” Nate adds.
“She’s dangerous,” Chuck whispers, throat tight suddenly. “She’s fire.”
Nate blinks again and finally just shuts his eyes too; thinks of fire and Blair and swallows hard. “Serena’s not…” but he trails off mid-defense, wonders suddenly if Chuck isn’t right. Because a year later and even without trying, he can still remember, still feel, the heat of her pressed against him.
“She burns.” He amends quietly.
Chuck breathes out slowly, “Brands.”
And in that moment, silent and still, sun on their faces and snuffed out spliff’s at their sides, it feels like they’re talking about the same girl.
The moment passes; and Nate blows out a breath, “Fuck.”
The exclamation catches Chuck by surprise, he opens his eyes a little, agrees, “Yeah.”
And Nate shakes his head slightly. “No, like: fuck,” he repeats more emphatically, turns his head to look at Chuck, “Fuck it.”
Chuck locks eyes with him and then smiles a little, “New philosophy, Nathaniel? Because I must say, you might find that one not entirely applicable to every area of your life.”
Nate laughs and reaches over to shove Chuck’s shoulder lightly. “You’re wearing an ascot, how’s that applicable to anything?”
Chuck gives him an indignant look, opens his mouth to explain the dignified history of the ascot- but Nate reaches over and playfully tugs at the fabric around his neck, so he settles for swatting at his hands and tugging it back. It's tug-of-war for a beat and he catches Nate's gaze, lets his smile widen, because yeah, okay- at least for a while: fuck it.