Drinks
“Here, mate. Your tie’s crooked.” Travis reached up to adjust Nicholas’ tie, surprised when it popped right off of his collar. “You’re wearing your uniform tie?” he demanded.
Nicholas took it back and replaced it. “I don’t know how to tie the other one.”
Travis just shook his head. “You hopeless fucking bastard-”
“You promised you won’t do that anymore,” Nicholas said tiredly. “Besides. I never saw the point in it, if I never wear one.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Just... stressed, you know?” Even though he knew that Nicholas could take care of it, Travis reached out to straighten the tie. “Do you want me to teach you how?”
Nicholas knew Travis was sincere in his apology, but the initial jab still stung slightly. He’d never really had any self-esteem issues, and insults usually tended to just bounce right off him, but when it was Travis flinging the insults, it hurt.
“No,” he said. “No one knows the difference unless they tug on it, anyway.”
Travis stopped fiddling with it, getting the hint. “‘Travis, please stop.’ Isn’t that the sort of thing we’re supposed to be working on right now?”
Nicholas sighed. “Please stop,” he said tiredly.
Travis smiled weakly at him. “Think you might be a little too old for positive reinforcement?”
“Yes,” Nicholas said simply. He had no idea what sort of embarrassing thing Travis would have had in mind, and wanted to stop it from happening before it even started.
The cab ride was quiet, and felt like one of the longest cab rides Travis had ever endured. They couldn’t arrive quickly enough, and yet, Travis was starting to feel like he didn’t want to arrive at all. Twice, he started to voice this concern, but both times, he managed to hold back, convincing himself that it was just nerves, and that everything would be fine.
Everything was fine, until they stepped out of the cab and Nicholas paid the driver. Travis started to walk to the front doors, but he turned suddenly, his head down as he grabbed Nicholas tightly and pulled him down the sidewalk.
“I can’t do this,” he said quickly. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I want to be sick.”
“Okay.”
Travis had been expecting some sort of rally of moral support from Nicholas, and was surprised when it didn’t happen.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I don’t know what to do,” Nicholas said, letting Travis lead him away.
“You sure?” Travis asked, suddenly not sure if Nicholas was really the best person to be giving this sort of advice.
Nicholas couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “Would you rather I drag you in there, myself?” he asked.
“No.” It came out rather more frightened that Travis had intended. “No. I just... I don’t know what to do.”
Nicholas looked around. “I think I saw a pub on the way over,” he suggested. “Go for a pint?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Travis followed Nicholas until they found a pub (whether it was the one Nicholas saw, they couldn’t figure out), and after about twenty minutes, he’d managed to calm down.
“I swear I was having a heart attack,” Travis said, turning his pint glass slowly on the table.
“You were not,” Nicholas told him.
“How do you know?”
“You just weren’t.” The pub turned out to be a fairly small one with an even smaller drinks selection, and Nicholas was not at all happy with the lager he had ordered. “It was probably a panic attack, or something.”
“Is that anything like a heart attack?” Travis asked.
Nicholas shrugged. “How should I know?” he asked. “I’ve never had either. I just completely shut down.”
Travis laughed slightly. “No, you have a heart attack? You’re gonna die on the job,” he declared. “It’ll be something bloody fucking heroic, too.”
Nicholas was sceptical. “Really, now?” he asked flatly.
“Yeah,” said Travis. “I’ll probably do something stupid, like get pissed drunk and fall down the stairs.”
Nicholas tried to figure out a way to respond to this, and completely failed. “Why are we talking about this?” he asked instead.
“Because it’s true,” Travis insisted. “You’ve always been everyone’s favourite, because you’re better at everything than me. You got better marks, a better record; even your French is better than mine.”
“I’m nobody’s favourite!” Nicholas insisted. He would have pointed out that the only reason his French was better than Travis’ was because he’d had a seven-year head start with it, but he figured that remark wouldn’t go over too well.
“You are,” Travis said.
Nicholas suddenly wished they were talking about how they were each going to die again, because this conversation had somehow managed to be even worse.
“Whose?” he asked.
Travis took a moment to consider this. “Janine,” he said.
Nicholas shook his head. “Well, I should hope so,” he said. “I am dating her, so she hardly counts.”
“Maybe I wanted to date her, and she just picked you.”
Nicholas had a hard time believing this somehow. “Did you?” he asked flatly.
“No,” Travis admitted. “But what if I did? I did try to chat her up, and she still picked you.”
“You were also chatting up Denise and the barmaid,” Nicholas pointed out. “At the same time. Of course she ignored you.”
“Just like everybody.”
Nicholas, once again, found himself terribly confused. “What are you saying?” he asked. “You want a girlfriend? Is that what this is about?”
“No! I don’t want a girlfriend,” Travis said, bordering on a tone that suggested a tantrum was imminent. “That’s the last fucking thing I want. I just want to stop being second best at everything.”
“Where did all this come from?” Nicholas asked carefully. It wasn’t at all what he was expecting, and he was loathe to think of Gene Hunt actually being right about something.
“I don’t know,” Travis admitted. “But I’m sick of it.”
They were quiet for a long time, neither wanting to say anything. Nicholas just stared at his lager while Travis picked apart a small wicker basket, leaving flakes all over the table.
“You’re not, you know,” Nicholas said finally.
“Not what?” Travis was deliberately holding down any emotional outburst that was threatening to make an idiot of him right there in the pub.
“Second best.” Nicholas was avoiding eye contact, instead still focusing on his pint. “You’re the only person I’ve ever considered a friend, even if you are determined to give me a stroke some days.”
“That’s really fucking sad,” Travis said, pointedly ignoring the fact that he did feel the same way about Nicholas. “I don’t count as your friend. Siblings are exempt from that sort of thing.”
“If anything, it would probably make more sense if we didn’t get on,” Nicholas pointed out. “You took over my room, you took all of Mum’s attention, and you’ve never stopped following me around. But I’m glad for it. Do you know what I did at school, when I wasn’t in class?”
Travis snorted. “What?”
“I stayed in my dorm and studied, because I was still getting beaten up by the other kids,” Nicholas said. “And do not tell Mum I told you that.”
Travis looked up at him suddenly. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked. “That was the whole reason they sent you there in the first place.”
“And I felt terrible for it, because I didn’t want Dad to think it had been a waste of money,” Nicholas admitted. “It completely stopped finally sometime around sixth form, but by then I had a routine going, so really, nothing changed. I’d still just stay in my dorm.”
Travis dragged his hands down his face. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“Because you didn’t wind up costing Mum and Dad thousands of pounds just so you could go get bullied by a different group of kids,” Nicholas said. “God knows how, but you managed to stop getting bullied and get caught up in a state school, and then went on to do well in university. I never could have done that.”
This had all been news to Travis, and it wasn’t news he’d wanted to hear. Somehow, it only made him feel worse about himself.
“While we’re confessing,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t have finished university at all. I cheated my way through every single maths class I ever took. I can still barely do multiplication tables.”
“I know,” Nicholas said quietly.
“You know?” Travis hadn’t been expecting that, either. “And you, of all people, didn’t say anything?”
“Our first year, you’d fallen asleep with your lights on,” Nicholas explained. “I went in to turn them off, and couldn’t help but notice that you’d been copying something into your own handwriting. It didn’t take a detective to work out what you were doing. I never said anything, because I knew that getting kicked out of university wouldn’t have done you any good.”
“Well... thanks. My only other option would have been going to work for Dad. I didn’t want to do that.” Travis sighed deeply and stood up. “This beer is disgusting. Let’s go home.”
“All right,” Nicholas said as he stood up and followed Travis out. “You get the cab. I paid for the last one, and the drinks.”
“That’s fair,” Travis agreed.
He didn’t feel much better than he had when they’d come in, but he didn’t feel any worse, either. And that had to count for something.