Fic - Popslash - The Date
The Date
Fandom: Popslash
Pairing: Howie/Nick
Notes: 6,600 word 'ficlet' written for bubbleforest. Also, unbetaed and based around a very unoriginal plot device.
The doorbell rings and Howie looks at his watch and sighs. Nick is half an hour late, he can wait a few more minutes. The doorbell rings a second time and Howie sets down his book, stands, and checks himself in the mirror, combs fingers through his hair. The third time that the doorbell rings, the obnoxious buzzing drawn out by a finger pressing the button repeatedly in annoyance, Howie answers the door.
“Here,” Nick says and shoves a bouquet of flowers into Howie’s chest so that several of the buds are crushed against Howie’s shirt.
“What’s this?” Howie asks.
“Flowers,” Nick says, completely unhelpful. He steps past Howie and into the front hall.
“Oh,” Howie says. “Um. How thoughtful. Thanks.” He picks up the broken buds from the floor and then stands up and looks at Nick, only to find that Nick has his cellphone out and pointed at him.
“What - “ Howie starts to say, and then Nick snaps the photo of a surprised Howie holding a bouquet of crushed flowers.
“I don’t get it,” Howie says. He lifts the arm holding the flowers. “Is this a joke or something?”
Nick snorts and says “I wish,” and then starts clicking way at his phone.
Howie stares at Nick, at his glasses and his neatly gelled hair, at the button down shirt that even looks like it’s been ironed. Nick looks good, like he’s making an effort for some reason instead of showing up like he usually does on Howie’s doorstep, unshaven and in a threadbare t-shirt.
“What’s going on?” Howie asks, suddenly wondering if he should have lied about having no plans when Nick called him a few hours earlier.
“Nothing,” Nick says. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s go get something to eat. Have you had dinner?”
“Uh - No. I guess - Okay,” Howie says. “Let me just put these in water or something.”
Howie heads for the kitchen, leaving Nick to stand awkward and impatient in the front hallway. Once he’s there, Howie drops the crushed flowers on the counter, presses his palms against it and says, “What the hell?”
“Hurry up,” Nick says from the hallway.
“What the hell,” Howie repeats. He opens a cupboard, not even sure why he’s bothering to look for a vase. He pulls some glass thing that was his grandmother’s from the back, tries to blow some of the dust off of it, and begins to fill it with water. It’s then that he remembers that Nick was supposed to spend that afternoon golfing with Brian and AJ.
“Did you lose a bet or something?” Howie calls over the sound of the faucet.
“What?” Nick shouts back, not bothering to walk the 15 steps to the kitchen.
Howie finishes filling the vase and says. “A bet. I said, did you lose a bet or something?”
Nick doesn’t respond and Howie takes that as a yes. Howie shoves the flowers into the vase, doesn’t bother to remove the paper that they’re wrapped in. He wipes his hands on his jeans and then returns to the hall, resigned.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he says.
Nick nods and follows Howie out the front door. They make it into the driveway and then Nick grabs Howie’s arm and says. “Wait. Here, I need you to take a picture.” He shoves his phone hard into Howie’s hand.
“A picture of what?” Howie asks.
Nick just says “Wait” again and rushes the few steps to his car, clicking a button on his keys and then opening the passenger side door. He makes a welcoming gesture with his arm and then smiles at Howie and says “Okay, ready.”
“You’re kidding,” Howie says.
“Come on,” Nick grouches. “Just take it already.” He frowns at Howie, but the plastered on smile quickly returns as soon as Howie lifts up the phone and snaps the picture.
“Thanks,” Nick says when Howie hands him back the phone. He waits for Howie to get in, then shuts Howie’s door and walks around to the other side of the car.
**
“So,” Howie says as Nick backs out of the driveway. He picks at a frayed edge on his jeans and watches Nick check his teeth in the rearview mirror. “I guess this is a date.”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “Sorry.”
Howie sighs and wonders how he always ends up getting dragged into these things when he tries so hard to stay out of them.
He shakes his head and turns to look at Nick’s profile. Nick’s eyes glance at him quickly before looking back at the road.
“What?” Nick asks.
“Nothing,” Howie says. “I just can’t believe you were dumb enough to bet against Brian and AJ at golf.”
“Yeah,” Nick breathes, not even bothering to try to defend himself.
**
The restaurant is candlelit and full of couples making googly eyes at one another, holding hands across the table as they sip their glasses of overpriced wine.
The hostess seats them in a secluded corner. Nick pulls out Howie’s chair for him and Howie makes sure to roll his eyes for the benefit of the hostess as he waits for Nick to finish. She smiles a little and walks away, says their waiter will be with them shortly.
Howie opens his menu and then stares across the table at Nick. Nick pushes his glasses up on his nose and pretends he doesn’t notice, pores over his own menu instead.
Howie clears his throat and says “So what’s on the list? What do we have to do to get through tonight?”
Nick shrugs. “Just like, some more date stuff.”
“Date stuff,” Howie repeats.
Nick shrugs again and when their waiter arrives Nick orders a bottle of wine and hands the waiter his phone. He asks him to take a picture of them, very polite, and when the waiter agrees Nick turns to Howie and says “Give me your hand.”
“What?” Howie says, surprised. “No. Why?”
“Because I need to be holding your hand for the picture,” Nick explains.
“Nick,” Howie says, glancing up at the waiter who is waiting patiently and trying not to smile.
“It’ll take like two seconds,” Nick points out and then reaches across the table toward Howie.
Howie sighs the long suffering sigh of someone who has been putting up with this kind of crap for the last ten years and finally gives in and sets his hand in Nick’s. Nick’s palm is a little clammy and Howie frowns when Nick’s fingers wrap around his.
“Okay,” Nick says and leans in toward Howie, turning to smile at the waiter. Howie doesn’t smile, instead uses the photo to express his annoyance with AJ and Brian.
“Thanks,” Nick says when the waiter smirks and leaves to get their wine. Nick starts clicking away at his phone again. “Nice face,” he grumbles at Howie, then continues with the clicking.
“You know it’s rude to text on a date,” Howie points out.
“Like you’ve never done it,” Nick returns.
“I guess. I guess maybe that’s why we’re single,” Howie says. Nick smiles down at his phone and shrugs and Howie adds, “Seriously, how did I end up as your target?”
“Target?” Nick asks. “Nice.”
Their wine arrives and Nick tastes it, nods to the waiter and then, once the wine is poured, Nick orders for them both so that Howie isn’t sure why he even bothered to open his menu.
Howie stares for a moment, and then when they’re alone again, says “Maybe you’re single because you lord over your dates, making decisions for them that they’re totally capable of making on their own.”
“Whatever,” Nick says. “You like steak and you always order it medium.”
“Do you order for all of your dates?”
Nick rolls his eyes. “No, baby, just you. Howie, I don’t buy dates flowers or open doors for them or take them to lame restaurants either. Come on.”
“So why are we here again?” Howie asks.
“Brian made the reservations. He just gave me the address. I guess Leigh must like this place, I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should have taken Brian on the date.”
Nick makes a face. “No way. I chose you.”
“I’m flattered,” Howie says, and now he’s the one rolling his eyes. He sips his wine, and then thinks better of it and downs half the glass. “Chose me out of who?”
“The other fellas,” Nick shrugs.
Howie nods. “So, what - they gave you a list or something of stuff you have to subject me to?’
“Yeah,” Nick says. “I guess.”
“Can I see it?” Howie asks.
“I don’t - you probably don’t want to know.”
Now Howie really wants to look at it.
“What?” Howie asks warily. “Do not tell me that Brian thinks I’m going to put out on the first date. I’m not putting out.” He’s joking, but when Nick’s expression suddenly becomes kind of pissy, Howie really starts to get worried.
“Let me see the damn list,” he demands.
“I can’t,” Nick says, raising his voice a little to match Howie’s volume. “There’s no list. Like not a paper list. They just told me a bunch of stuff to send them pictures of.”
“Well, what else are we doing then?” Howie persists.
“It’s just a kiss goodnight,” Nick blurts. “I mean, AJ says with tongue, but we just have to like press our mouth’s together and snap a picture, that’s all.”
Howie finishes the rest of his wine.
“Come on, Howie,” Nick says, and it’s bordering on whining now. “It won’t be that bad, just play along, please? I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“I can’t believe you bet against Brian and AJ at golf,” Howie sighs for the second time that night.
“Yeah,” Nick agrees and pours Howie another glass of wine.
Their food arrives and the steak is actually really good, probably much better than the salmon that Howie was planning to order. Nick watches as Howie cleans his plate. He raises an eyebrow and Howie shrugs, says “Okay, okay. It was a pretty good choice.”
“Pretty good?”
“It was a great steak, okay?”
Nick smiles and pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of Howie wiping his mouth on his napkin. Nick leans in, his mouth pulled into one of his ‘I’m trying really hard to be sexy’ smiles and says, “So good you could kiss me?”
“I’m not that easy,” Howie says.
Nick’s smile slips into an exaggerated pout and Howie can’t help it. He laughs.
“We’ll see,” Howie grumbles, and Nick nods, looks away. He’s smiling again just a little.
“We’ll see.” Howie says again, trying to stress that nothing is definite. He’ll do it, of course. He’ll kiss Nick, whatever. It’ll be weird and AJ and Brian can have a good laugh and then Howie can go back to staying out of this stuff until the next time they drag him into it.
**
“What’s next?” Howie asks back in the car. Nick opens the door for him again, this time without forcing Howie to take a picture of him doing it. Without all of the fanfare, it almost becomes a nice gesture. Weird, but a little nice too.
“Coffee and dessert are next,” Nick says. “AJ chose the place.”
“Oof,” Howie says, leaning back in the passenger seat and setting a hand on his stomach.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Howie says. “I’m just not sure I can eat anything more.”
“I bet you can,” Nick counters, and he’s got a glint in his eye that Howie’s seen before.
Howie raises an eyebrow and glances over at Nick. “I’m not betting you anything, Nicky.”
**
They sit down in the café and Nick immediately says, “I’m ordering for us again, just so you know.”
Howie sets his menu back down on the table but doesn’t argue. He’s much less annoyed about the whole thing now that Nick is less annoying and more relaxed and joking around. And also, he really isn’t hungry, so whatever Nick chooses to order doesn’t matter much to Howie anyway.
The waiter comes and Nick orders coffee and a bunch of chocolate covered fruit and then tells Howie about his afternoon, about breakfast with the Littrell’s, about Baylee’s latest shenanigans, about golfing with AJ and Brian afterward. He refuses to say what he did to end up here.
“It was just - it was just a dumb bet and I lost,” Nick shrugs. “It’s not even interesting.”
The coffee and fruit arrive and Nick looks up at Howie and says “You aren’t going to like this.”
At least he’s warning Howie first. Maybe it was the wine at dinner, but Nick is much less nervous and annoyed about this than he was when he first showed up at Howie’s house. It’s not so bad when Nick isn’t making things all awkward.
”What am I not going to like?” Howie asks.
“I need a picture of you eating fruit while I feed it to you.”
“Wow,” Howie says. “That’s really lame.”
“AJ’s pretty lame,” Nick points out, and somehow that does make the whole thing make some sort of sense. Nick pushes the plate toward Howie and says, “Okay, which one do you want?” The plate is laid out with strawberries, orange slices, pineapple, and what might be pears.
Howie shakes his head and says, “Nick, I really don’t care. You can choose.”
Nick chooses a hunk of pineapple. He positions his camera in one hand and then holds the chocolate covered hunk of fruit in the other, waving it in Howie’s face. The whole thing looks like an awkward juggling act for Nick, but is probably less awkward then if he tried to get another waiter to take the picture.
“Okay, Howard,” Nick says, his voice getting kind of high and sing-songy. “Open up.”
Nick’s eyes are wide and he’s smiling a little and Howie bursts out laughing and has to turn away.
“Come on!” Nick says, trying not to join in. “AJ thinks this is supposed to be sexy! You’re ruining it.”
“I’m ruining it?” Howie repeats. “I think the sexiness of this moment was ruined long before I became involved.”
“Okay,” Nick concedes. “Well, just pretend. You used to want to be an actor, remember?”
Howie shrugs and then nods, takes a deep breath to try to stop the giggling and has to close his eyes for a moment as Nick starts coming at him again with the pineapple.
“I really hope your real dates aren’t like this,” Howie says and then decides it’s time to get this over with. He leans in to meet Nick’s hand and takes the pineapple between his teeth. Nick’s not letting go so Howie bits down and the pineapple is juicier than he expects, dripping onto Nick’s hand. The juice dribbles a little down Howie’s lip. He tries to catch it with his tongue and when that fails, wipes his chin with the side of his hand instead.
Nick snaps the picture and raises an eyebrow, says “two more to go.” He pops the other half of the pineapple into his own mouth and then licks the juice from his finger, wipes his hand on his jeans.
“That wasn’t very sexy,” Nick says. “No offense.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees.
“I mean, it was funny and kind of cute the way your nose was crunched up like you thought the whole thing was gross and weird. It just wasn’t sexy.”
“Okay,” Howie says.
“it wasn’t unsexy though,” Nick continues. “Like I don’t want to not have sex with you because of it.”
“Can we move on now please?”
“Yeah, okay,” Nick says and exhales as though relieved for the permission to change the subject. He grabs a strawberry from the plate and bites into it with a sucking noise. Howie sips his coffee and looks away.
**
“See,” Nick says, safely back in the car with coffee and dessert accomplished. “This isn’t so bad, right?”
“It’s not totally awful,” Howie agrees.
“That’s why I picked you, man. It was AJ and Brian’s idea, so you know either of them would have made this whole thing hell, right? And they said I could pick Kev if I could get him to agree, but who would choose Kevin? But you, I knew you’d be annoyed, but you’d get over it and it’d be fun. I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but I hoped.”
“It’s not completely un-fun,” Howie concedes.
Nick turns to grin at him. “We have just two things left.”
“The kiss,” Howie supplies. “What’s the other one?”
Nick is still grinning at him, but now it looks a little forced, like he’s trying to sell whatever he’s about to say. “A romantic moonlit walk on the beach?”
“Oh,” Howie says, because that doesn’t actually sound that bad. “Do I have to get wet? I’m not getting wet.”
“No,” Nick says. “We just need to do a little - like I need you to lean on me and put your arm around my waist while we walk. Stuff like that. Just pretend you like me, I guess.”
Howie nods, thinking it still doesn’t sound all that painful. And then after the beach, the only thing left is the kiss, which is sort of sounding less and less awkward as the night progresses. If Howie’d just had one more glass of - “pull over here,” he says, pointing to a nearly empty parking lot, lit by a neon sign that’s missing half of it’s the lights. Howie’s pretty sure the sign should say ‘Americana Hotel’. What it actually says is -
“Icana Hot?” Nick reads. “What is that?”
“I don’t know, but they have a bar,” Howie replies. “I was just thinking we’d get a drink, you know. Just a little more liquid courage, right?”
Nick hesitates for a moment, as though he’s not sure what to do now that Howie’s veering him off the set list.
“The beach will still be there,” Howie points out.
Eventually Nick nods and gets out of the car, coming around the front to open the door for Howie.
Inside it’s dark and mostly empty and even though smoking is not allowed in California bars, the place somehow still has that stale cigarette smell. If they weren’t on this ‘date’ it would probably be a place that Nick would really get a kick out of, but Nick has other things on his mind and Howie follows as Nick makes a beeline for the bar, his hand stretched out behind him a little as though he’d be holding Howie’s hand if he wasn’t afraid that someone (and possibly that someone might be Howie) would beat him up if they saw. Other than the bartender, there are only about 10 people in the bar, and they all seem to be occupied with other things anyway, so as they get close, Howie slips his hand into Nick’s for those last few steps. Nick slides onto a stool and looks down at Howie’s hand and then up at Howie’s face, eyebrow raised. Howie shrugs and releases Nick’s hand.
“What do you want to drink?” Nick asks him, the question shaping his features.
Howie shrugs again, orders a beer and starts to wonder if he really needs the liquid courage that much at all, if maybe this whole thing is just Howie trying to create excuses for later. Nick’s hand was warm in his, and when they sit at the bar their knees touch and neither of them bothers to move away. As the date starts winding down, kissing Nick is sounding less and less awkward and more like something Howie maybe wouldn’t mind doing much at all.
They sit there quietly for a while, sipping their beers, and then the conversation turns to the recording they’ve been doing, a new song they’re working on. Howie laid down some vocals for the track a few days earlier and Nick apparently thinks it’s one of the best things Howie’s ever done. Howie can’t tell if Nick is being genuine or purposely trying to flatter him.
“Thanks,” he says, and he can feel that his cheeks are a little red, but Nick doesn’t seem to be mocking him at all.
Howie orders two shots of Jack Daniels, and Nick does laugh at him now, but downs the shot when Howie pushes it toward him.
Afterward they stand around in the parking lot waiting for their cab to arrive and Nick checks to make sure that his car is locked four times.
“If my car is gone when I come back tomorrow you’re totally paying for it,” Nick says. “You know that, right?”
Howie snorts. “Two beers and a shot of JD and that’s the end of the chivalry, huh? I’ll have to start warning your girlfriends not to get you drunk.”
“I just wanted a nice walk on the beach,” Nick mumbles. “And now we’re hanging out in some seedy parking lot for a place called Icana Hot.”
“Americana Hotel,” Howie says.
“Whatever.” Nick pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo of the neon sign for posterity or something. Then he thinks about it for a moment and takes a picture of his car too. “Something to remember her by.”
The cab seems to be taking an extraordinarily long time to arrive. Howie’s starting to think that by the time it does arrive they’ll probably be sobered up enough to drive themselves.
“Well,” he sighs, just to fill the silence. “You can’t say I’m not a cheap date.”
“Dude, I just sold my first born to pay for dinner.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t choose that place. I’m a cheap date, Brian’s the gold digger,” Howie points out, just as a taxi pulls into the parking lot. Nick gives Howie a little shove toward the door, his hand lingering a little on Howie’s shoulder, thumb rubbing once across the neckline of Howie’s shirt.
In the car Nick talks to the cab driver about their worst fender benders and the best beaches for surfing (even though Nick pretty much never surfs). When the cab stops a few feet from the beach, Nick hands the driver a wad of bills and asks him to wait.
They walk down the beach. The weather is nice, breezy, and Howie smiles when Nick bumps into him, probably on purpose.
“We don’t hang out enough anymore,” Nick says. “Like actually hang out, not go on fake dates.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees, though he thinks this is normal. It’s just that they aren’t on tour. This is how it always is with them - extremes. On tour they see each other every day. When the tour ends they make an effort not to see each other at all, then they gradually get used to one another again throughout the recording process. Howie’s been seeing the fellas in the studio, but not much outside of it and that’s normal, but he gets what Nick’s saying. It’s almost time for another tour.
“Maybe we should make Icana Hot a weekly thing,” Nick suggests. Howie raises an eyebrow and when he turns to see if Nick is serious, Nick laughs at him. “Or we could do something else instead.”
“That would be good,” Howie says, and he means it. He enjoys spending time with Nick, enjoys it even more when they aren’t physically exhausted and sleep deprived.
Eventually Nick finds a large piece of driftwood far enough from the parking lot to be deemed satisfactory. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and uses it to prop the phone on the log.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s got a timer,” Nick explains. “There’s a pretty good camera in this thing.”
Howie sits on the other end of the log while Nick continues fiddling with his phone, getting everything set up for whatever exactly it is that comes next.
“Okay,” Nick says after a minute or two. “Okay, we’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” Howie asks.
“Okay,” Nick says for a third time, holding out his hands and making sure everything is steady. “I’m going to press this button. As soon as I do, we’re going to start walking away from the camera and you’re going to put your arm around my waist and like I don’t know, rest your head on my shoulder or something. We’ve got like 30 seconds until this thing takes the picture.”
“This is all getting really complicated,” Howie notes.
“No, come on, it’s easy. Ready? I’m going to press the button as soon as you’re ready.”
Nick waits for Howie to sigh and stand from his log, come to Nick.
“Ready?” Nick says again.
“Yeah, yeah,” Howie agrees, sliding his arm around Nick’s waist as Nick hits the button of the camera.
“Walk, walk,” Nick says, pulling Howie along with him. And then after a moment, it’s all “Wait, slow down,” and Nick’s hand is around Howie’s shoulders, pushing Howie’s head toward Nick. Howie frowns at Nick, the side of his head hitting the bone in Nick’s shoulder a little too hard. He repositions himself so that he’s a little more comfortable and then says “Did it take yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Nick says. They stop and just hold the position until finally, Howie can’t take it anymore. He pinches Nick’s side and Nick jumps away from Howie, kicks sand at Howie’s legs, and then goes to check the camera.
“Well?”
Nick bites his lip and presses some buttons. “I, uh - I programmed it wrong. Hold on.” He repositions the camera and then presses the button, rushing back to Howie so that they can get into position. The whole thing is as staged as it gets, but Howie’s arm slides back around Nick’s waist easily and Nick’s skin is warm beneath his shirt, his arm comfortable across Howie’s shoulders. Howie leans his head back on Nick’s arm and this time he pays attention to the familiar smell of Nick when he leans his nose close to Nick’s shirt, to the way Nick’s fingers press against Howie’s shoulder, pulling him in just that little bit closer.
Eventually Nick turns his head toward Howie and says “Do you think it’s been thirty seconds? I didn’t hear it click.” Howie can almost feel Nick speaking the words, his mouth is so near the top of Howie’s head.
“I think it clicked,” Howie says, quietly. “We probably wouldn’t hear it over the waves, right?”
“Probably,” Nick agrees, but he doesn’t move right away. They stand there like that for another moment, staring out at the ocean, and then Nick leans into Howie a little more and his lips press against Howie’s hair for just a moment, replaced by his cheek, and then the soft pressure is gone. Howie turns to look at Nick and Nick shakes his head and shrugs, releases Howie and goes to check the camera.
“Did it work?” Howie asks, attempting to look over Nick’s shoulder. He can’t see much.
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Yeah, I mean, it’s dark. We probably could have taken a picture of anything and they wouldn’t have noticed, but we got it.”
“Good,” Howie says.
On the way back across the beach Nick takes a deep breath and says, “That was a little weird.”
“It wasn’t that weird.”
Howie can feel Nick staring at him and then Nick says, “I meant like the, just standing there pretending we were walking part.”
“Oh,” Howie says. “Yeah, that was kind of weird.”
“I guess it’s only going to get weirder though, right?”
“What?”
“I mean, the kissing part.”
Howie shrugs because the kissing part is getting less and less weird for Howie. “I told you the bar was a good idea.”
“We probably should have stayed for at least another drink,” Nick says. “I maybe could have used another drink.”
Howie frowns and doesn’t answer.
“What?” Nick asks, and shoves Howie’s shoulder a little.
“You’ve gotta be drunk to kiss me now?” Howie asks, shoves Nick back. “At dinner you were practically begging.”
“Oh, I’ll kiss you,” Nick says, grabbing at Howie before Howie sees it coming. Howie struggles as Nick folds him in his arms and holds him tight and then proceeds to plant a slobbery kiss on Howie’s cheek.
“Okay,” Howie laughs, pushing at Nick’s chest. “Okay, stop!” And then his leg wraps around Nick’s knee and Nick lands on him hard in the sand. Howie coughs, tries to catch his breath, pushes at Nick a little.
“Sorry,” Nick says. He rolls off of Howie so they’re both lying on their backs in the sand. “Sorry.”
“I think that was my fault,” Howie says. “I kind of tripped you there.”
“Okay,” Nick agrees, reaching across to shove at Howie. “Then I’m not sorry.”
“So whose idea was the beach?” Howie asks, even though he already knows the answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Brian chose the restaurant. AJ made you feed me fruit. So whose idea was the moonlight walk?”
“Oh,” Nick says. “Mine.”
“Yeah,” Howie says. “It was nice.”
Nick doesn’t say anything. They lie there listening to the waves crash and then Nick stands abruptly, reaching down and pulling Howie up off the sand.
“The cab is waiting,” Nick explains.
They walk back to the parking lot in silence.
**
When the time comes for the good night kiss, Howie finds that his stomach feels a little funny, that he’s been anticipating this for a while now, that maybe he really does want Nick to kiss him, just a little.
They stand on Howie’s doorstep and Nick pulls his phone from his pocket. He takes a deep breath and then says, “Okay, you ready?”
Howie hesitates, thinking that maybe he wants it, but not sure he is ready at the same time. Finally he shrugs and says, “Let’s just get it over with, right?”
“Right,” Nick agrees, and holds his phone out at arms length. He takes a test shot of the sides of their heads just make sure he’s judging the distance right and getting them into the frame. Apparently the shot is fine, because he nods and holds the phone out again, this time leaning in toward Howie.
“Here goes,” Nick says, and then before Howie has time to react, Nick closes the distance between them, his lips moving in to meet Howie’s, a light press of soft skin. When Nick’s mouth presses against his a little harder, Howie closes his eyes, expecting the kiss to begin.
And then the phone clicks and Nick pulls away.
“Oh,” Howie says. It was a stage kiss, completely. The sloppy kiss that Nick gave him on the beach was more real than this. Howie can’t help but feel like the whole thing is - well, anticlimactic.
Nick’s staring at him, seems to be trying to read something in Howie’s face. Finally, he licks his lips and says, “That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“I don’t think you gave me cooties or anything,” Howie agrees.
Nick checks the picture and then frowns, just a little.
“Well?” Howie asks.
Nick shrugs.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Nick says. “I mean, it’s fine, whatever. It just looks like we were forced to kiss is all. Like - I don’t know, it’s fine.”
“What?” Howie asks. “You want to try it again?”
“Nah,” Nick says.
“We can try it again,” Howie repeats. “I mean, you could actually kiss me. I won’t punch you or anything.”
Nick meets Howie’s eyes for a moment, then glances back down at the picture on his phone.
“I’ve already put you through enough, I think,” Nick says. “I’ll just send them this and then you’re totally off the hook.”
“Nick,” Howie says and then grabs the phone from Nick’s hand. “Kiss me again.”
Nick opens his mouth to protest and Howie’s starting to think that he should have shut up, that Nick probably really doesn’t want to kiss Howie at all, that Howie is standing there making a gigantic ass of himself and Nick is just trying to fulfill his short end of the bet stick.
“I don’t -“ Nick starts and then, just when Howie is about back off, turn away, embarrassed that he’d pretty much insisted and laid himself out like that, just when Howie starts to feel his face start to flush, Nick steps into Howie’s personal space, looming over him, and then Nick’s mouth is pressed against Howie’s once more. It’s that stage kiss again, as though Nick’s afraid of what might happen if they move, if they make it real. Howie feels that disappointment return and then Nick shifts, his lips parting slightly, kissing Howie’s mouth, tentative, and Howie catches himself thinking finally.
“Like that?” Nick asks, pulling away just far enough to speak the words.
Howie nods and then leans in again so that now he’s in the lead, kissing Nick’s mouth open, taking his time, smiling when Nick’s hands move up Howie’s shoulders to hold his face. When Nick’s tongue finally slides into Howie’s mouth, finally brushes against Howie’s own, Howie’s stomach flips a little and he moans against Nick's lips. Nick’s thumbs brush across Howie’s cheeks as Nick’s kiss starts to get just a little bit dirty, and Howie’s hands press helplessly to the small of Nick’s back, nearly dropping Nick’s phone in an attempt to touch as much of Nick as he possibly can.
It’s the realization that Howie’s still holding Nick’s phone that pulls him out of the moment, has him moving away from Nick and running a hand through his hair.
Nick’s mouth is red, his lips wet, and Howie looks away and says, “I don’t put out on the first date.” He’s only half finished with the sentence when he starts to question his sanity in even saying it. Still, the small fraction of Howie’s brain that is still concentrated on reason thinks that maybe they should take a little time with this. Maybe they should sleep on it and see if they aren’t mortified in the morning when they wake up and start thinking about their game of tonsil hockey on Howie’s doorstep.
“You’re sure?” Nick asks. His voice sounds hoarse. “Cause Brian and AJ would love a picture of -“ Nick trails off, swallows, and reaches out to pull a little at the hair at the back of Howie’s neck, rubs his thumb across the skin behind Howie’s ear and the reasonable fraction of Howie’s brain threatens to join the rest, the large majority that is thinking about how good the kiss would have been if they were both naked.
Nick clears his throat and removes his hand and says, “When you think about it, it’s not really our first date at all.”
Howie’s nodding, but then he shakes his head, says “You brought me flowers and held the door open and now you’re trying to tell me it’s not a first date.”
“Do you put out on the second date?” Nick asks, getting straight to the point.
Howie shrugs. “Not if you bring AJ and Brian with you,” he says and hands Nick back his phone. Nick’s fingers linger a little on Howie’s hand and Howie says, “Yeah, maybe.”
He can’t help it. He’s smiling and Nick’s hands are on him again and they aren’t even that drunk. They didn’t really need the cab to get home from the beach, so they aren’t that drunk at all, and this is Nicky and it should be weirder than this, more awkward, a little disturbing maybe. Howie would never have guessed that as messed up as they are when it comes to most things, this is what seems surprisingly right and normal for them.
“So,” Howie says, laughing when Nick leans in to kiss him again. “When is this second date?”
“Tomorrow,” Nick says. “Or right now if you want.”
“Tomorrow,” Howie agrees.
“Okay,” Nick says, kisses Howie one more time, lingering a little against Howie’s mouth. His nose bumps Howie and Nick hardly pulls away before he says, “the cab left.”
Howie kisses Nick’s mouth once more, one last taste before he pulls away and says, “I guess you better call for another one.”
He could lend Nick his car, but somehow that just seems less fun.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Howie says, “Good night, Nick.” Howie doesn’t wait for Nick to stop him, doesn’t wait for Nick to say anything more, instead escapes into the house, shutting the door. He stands there for a moment and then walks into the den, not turning on any lights or bothering to remove his shoes. He stands in front of the bay window and tries to convince himself that spying on Nick is not at all what Howie wants to do. It works as well as it would if he were trying to convince himself that he didn’t enjoy a fake date with Nick Carter more than any real date he’d been on in the last year. He hesitates only a second before he’s slipping a finger between the drapes and peering through the crack. Nick’s on the phone, a hand combing through his hair so that it’s sticking up every which way. He’s unbuttoned a few of the buttons at the collar of his shirt and as Howie watches Nick sighs visibly, shoves the phone into his pocket and sits down on Howie’s front steps. His hands rub the knees of his jeans, waiting for a cab to come and take him back to his empty house.
Howie can still taste Nick, still feel Nick’s mouth on his, the firm press of Nick’s hands on him, and he stops thinking, pulls away from the window and walks back into the front hall, opening the door. Nick starts, surprised, and looks up at Howie.
“You’re here early,” Howie says.
Nick’s quiet for a moment and then he shakes his head and says, “What?”
“I thought you were picking me up at noon,” Howie says and then looks at his watch. “You’re early.”
“For our date,” Nick translates, slowly. His expression is less confused now, more like he’s trying to hide the start of a smile.
“Our second date,” Howie clarifies.
“What are we going to do?” Nick asks, holding out a hand for Howie to help him up from the steps.
“I don’t know,” Howie says. He grabs Nick’s hand and pulls Nick up off the steps. “You showed up too early for lunch.”
“Sorry,” Nick says, not releasing Howie’s hand right away. When Howie realizes that Nick doesn’t intend to let go, he tightens his own grip.
“I guess you could cancel your cab and come in for a while.”
‘Yeah?” Nick asks.
“Come on,” Howie says, pulls Nick toward the front door. Nick kicks the front door shut behind them, and suddenly they are right back where they started the evening, standing awkwardly in Howie’s front hallway. The only difference is that this time they’re both flushed and flustered. This time they’re holding hands.
Nick is hesitating; his mouth open like he isn’t sure what he should do now, never thought this would actually be part of his plan. Finally, when it becomes apparent that Nick is going to take all night to make the first move, Howie pulls at Nick’s hand. Nick stumbles forward so that they’re standing close, so that all Nick needs to do now is lean in.
Nick releases Howie’s hand, wipes his palm on his jeans, and says “I didn’t actually call a cab yet.”
“Okay,” Howie says. “Good.”
“You sure you want to -“ Nick starts, and then he seems to think better of it and kisses Howie instead. Howie isn’t sure, thinks they might still wake up and wonder what the hell they were thinking, but Nick’s kissing him, guiding him toward the stairs and as they pass the kitchen Howie sees the flowers sitting on the counter, stuck awkwardly in a vase with the paper still wrapped around them. Howie pulls Nick up the stairs and thinks that maybe sometimes, being dragged into these things doesn’t turn out so bad.
Fandom: Popslash
Pairing: Howie/Nick
Notes: 6,600 word 'ficlet' written for bubbleforest. Also, unbetaed and based around a very unoriginal plot device.
The doorbell rings and Howie looks at his watch and sighs. Nick is half an hour late, he can wait a few more minutes. The doorbell rings a second time and Howie sets down his book, stands, and checks himself in the mirror, combs fingers through his hair. The third time that the doorbell rings, the obnoxious buzzing drawn out by a finger pressing the button repeatedly in annoyance, Howie answers the door.
“Here,” Nick says and shoves a bouquet of flowers into Howie’s chest so that several of the buds are crushed against Howie’s shirt.
“What’s this?” Howie asks.
“Flowers,” Nick says, completely unhelpful. He steps past Howie and into the front hall.
“Oh,” Howie says. “Um. How thoughtful. Thanks.” He picks up the broken buds from the floor and then stands up and looks at Nick, only to find that Nick has his cellphone out and pointed at him.
“What - “ Howie starts to say, and then Nick snaps the photo of a surprised Howie holding a bouquet of crushed flowers.
“I don’t get it,” Howie says. He lifts the arm holding the flowers. “Is this a joke or something?”
Nick snorts and says “I wish,” and then starts clicking way at his phone.
Howie stares at Nick, at his glasses and his neatly gelled hair, at the button down shirt that even looks like it’s been ironed. Nick looks good, like he’s making an effort for some reason instead of showing up like he usually does on Howie’s doorstep, unshaven and in a threadbare t-shirt.
“What’s going on?” Howie asks, suddenly wondering if he should have lied about having no plans when Nick called him a few hours earlier.
“Nothing,” Nick says. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Let’s go get something to eat. Have you had dinner?”
“Uh - No. I guess - Okay,” Howie says. “Let me just put these in water or something.”
Howie heads for the kitchen, leaving Nick to stand awkward and impatient in the front hallway. Once he’s there, Howie drops the crushed flowers on the counter, presses his palms against it and says, “What the hell?”
“Hurry up,” Nick says from the hallway.
“What the hell,” Howie repeats. He opens a cupboard, not even sure why he’s bothering to look for a vase. He pulls some glass thing that was his grandmother’s from the back, tries to blow some of the dust off of it, and begins to fill it with water. It’s then that he remembers that Nick was supposed to spend that afternoon golfing with Brian and AJ.
“Did you lose a bet or something?” Howie calls over the sound of the faucet.
“What?” Nick shouts back, not bothering to walk the 15 steps to the kitchen.
Howie finishes filling the vase and says. “A bet. I said, did you lose a bet or something?”
Nick doesn’t respond and Howie takes that as a yes. Howie shoves the flowers into the vase, doesn’t bother to remove the paper that they’re wrapped in. He wipes his hands on his jeans and then returns to the hall, resigned.
“Okay, let’s get this over with,” he says.
Nick nods and follows Howie out the front door. They make it into the driveway and then Nick grabs Howie’s arm and says. “Wait. Here, I need you to take a picture.” He shoves his phone hard into Howie’s hand.
“A picture of what?” Howie asks.
Nick just says “Wait” again and rushes the few steps to his car, clicking a button on his keys and then opening the passenger side door. He makes a welcoming gesture with his arm and then smiles at Howie and says “Okay, ready.”
“You’re kidding,” Howie says.
“Come on,” Nick grouches. “Just take it already.” He frowns at Howie, but the plastered on smile quickly returns as soon as Howie lifts up the phone and snaps the picture.
“Thanks,” Nick says when Howie hands him back the phone. He waits for Howie to get in, then shuts Howie’s door and walks around to the other side of the car.
**
“So,” Howie says as Nick backs out of the driveway. He picks at a frayed edge on his jeans and watches Nick check his teeth in the rearview mirror. “I guess this is a date.”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees. “Sorry.”
Howie sighs and wonders how he always ends up getting dragged into these things when he tries so hard to stay out of them.
He shakes his head and turns to look at Nick’s profile. Nick’s eyes glance at him quickly before looking back at the road.
“What?” Nick asks.
“Nothing,” Howie says. “I just can’t believe you were dumb enough to bet against Brian and AJ at golf.”
“Yeah,” Nick breathes, not even bothering to try to defend himself.
**
The restaurant is candlelit and full of couples making googly eyes at one another, holding hands across the table as they sip their glasses of overpriced wine.
The hostess seats them in a secluded corner. Nick pulls out Howie’s chair for him and Howie makes sure to roll his eyes for the benefit of the hostess as he waits for Nick to finish. She smiles a little and walks away, says their waiter will be with them shortly.
Howie opens his menu and then stares across the table at Nick. Nick pushes his glasses up on his nose and pretends he doesn’t notice, pores over his own menu instead.
Howie clears his throat and says “So what’s on the list? What do we have to do to get through tonight?”
Nick shrugs. “Just like, some more date stuff.”
“Date stuff,” Howie repeats.
Nick shrugs again and when their waiter arrives Nick orders a bottle of wine and hands the waiter his phone. He asks him to take a picture of them, very polite, and when the waiter agrees Nick turns to Howie and says “Give me your hand.”
“What?” Howie says, surprised. “No. Why?”
“Because I need to be holding your hand for the picture,” Nick explains.
“Nick,” Howie says, glancing up at the waiter who is waiting patiently and trying not to smile.
“It’ll take like two seconds,” Nick points out and then reaches across the table toward Howie.
Howie sighs the long suffering sigh of someone who has been putting up with this kind of crap for the last ten years and finally gives in and sets his hand in Nick’s. Nick’s palm is a little clammy and Howie frowns when Nick’s fingers wrap around his.
“Okay,” Nick says and leans in toward Howie, turning to smile at the waiter. Howie doesn’t smile, instead uses the photo to express his annoyance with AJ and Brian.
“Thanks,” Nick says when the waiter smirks and leaves to get their wine. Nick starts clicking away at his phone again. “Nice face,” he grumbles at Howie, then continues with the clicking.
“You know it’s rude to text on a date,” Howie points out.
“Like you’ve never done it,” Nick returns.
“I guess. I guess maybe that’s why we’re single,” Howie says. Nick smiles down at his phone and shrugs and Howie adds, “Seriously, how did I end up as your target?”
“Target?” Nick asks. “Nice.”
Their wine arrives and Nick tastes it, nods to the waiter and then, once the wine is poured, Nick orders for them both so that Howie isn’t sure why he even bothered to open his menu.
Howie stares for a moment, and then when they’re alone again, says “Maybe you’re single because you lord over your dates, making decisions for them that they’re totally capable of making on their own.”
“Whatever,” Nick says. “You like steak and you always order it medium.”
“Do you order for all of your dates?”
Nick rolls his eyes. “No, baby, just you. Howie, I don’t buy dates flowers or open doors for them or take them to lame restaurants either. Come on.”
“So why are we here again?” Howie asks.
“Brian made the reservations. He just gave me the address. I guess Leigh must like this place, I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should have taken Brian on the date.”
Nick makes a face. “No way. I chose you.”
“I’m flattered,” Howie says, and now he’s the one rolling his eyes. He sips his wine, and then thinks better of it and downs half the glass. “Chose me out of who?”
“The other fellas,” Nick shrugs.
Howie nods. “So, what - they gave you a list or something of stuff you have to subject me to?’
“Yeah,” Nick says. “I guess.”
“Can I see it?” Howie asks.
“I don’t - you probably don’t want to know.”
Now Howie really wants to look at it.
“What?” Howie asks warily. “Do not tell me that Brian thinks I’m going to put out on the first date. I’m not putting out.” He’s joking, but when Nick’s expression suddenly becomes kind of pissy, Howie really starts to get worried.
“Let me see the damn list,” he demands.
“I can’t,” Nick says, raising his voice a little to match Howie’s volume. “There’s no list. Like not a paper list. They just told me a bunch of stuff to send them pictures of.”
“Well, what else are we doing then?” Howie persists.
“It’s just a kiss goodnight,” Nick blurts. “I mean, AJ says with tongue, but we just have to like press our mouth’s together and snap a picture, that’s all.”
Howie finishes the rest of his wine.
“Come on, Howie,” Nick says, and it’s bordering on whining now. “It won’t be that bad, just play along, please? I’ll pay you back somehow.”
“I can’t believe you bet against Brian and AJ at golf,” Howie sighs for the second time that night.
“Yeah,” Nick agrees and pours Howie another glass of wine.
Their food arrives and the steak is actually really good, probably much better than the salmon that Howie was planning to order. Nick watches as Howie cleans his plate. He raises an eyebrow and Howie shrugs, says “Okay, okay. It was a pretty good choice.”
“Pretty good?”
“It was a great steak, okay?”
Nick smiles and pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of Howie wiping his mouth on his napkin. Nick leans in, his mouth pulled into one of his ‘I’m trying really hard to be sexy’ smiles and says, “So good you could kiss me?”
“I’m not that easy,” Howie says.
Nick’s smile slips into an exaggerated pout and Howie can’t help it. He laughs.
“We’ll see,” Howie grumbles, and Nick nods, looks away. He’s smiling again just a little.
“We’ll see.” Howie says again, trying to stress that nothing is definite. He’ll do it, of course. He’ll kiss Nick, whatever. It’ll be weird and AJ and Brian can have a good laugh and then Howie can go back to staying out of this stuff until the next time they drag him into it.
**
“What’s next?” Howie asks back in the car. Nick opens the door for him again, this time without forcing Howie to take a picture of him doing it. Without all of the fanfare, it almost becomes a nice gesture. Weird, but a little nice too.
“Coffee and dessert are next,” Nick says. “AJ chose the place.”
“Oof,” Howie says, leaning back in the passenger seat and setting a hand on his stomach.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Howie says. “I’m just not sure I can eat anything more.”
“I bet you can,” Nick counters, and he’s got a glint in his eye that Howie’s seen before.
Howie raises an eyebrow and glances over at Nick. “I’m not betting you anything, Nicky.”
**
They sit down in the café and Nick immediately says, “I’m ordering for us again, just so you know.”
Howie sets his menu back down on the table but doesn’t argue. He’s much less annoyed about the whole thing now that Nick is less annoying and more relaxed and joking around. And also, he really isn’t hungry, so whatever Nick chooses to order doesn’t matter much to Howie anyway.
The waiter comes and Nick orders coffee and a bunch of chocolate covered fruit and then tells Howie about his afternoon, about breakfast with the Littrell’s, about Baylee’s latest shenanigans, about golfing with AJ and Brian afterward. He refuses to say what he did to end up here.
“It was just - it was just a dumb bet and I lost,” Nick shrugs. “It’s not even interesting.”
The coffee and fruit arrive and Nick looks up at Howie and says “You aren’t going to like this.”
At least he’s warning Howie first. Maybe it was the wine at dinner, but Nick is much less nervous and annoyed about this than he was when he first showed up at Howie’s house. It’s not so bad when Nick isn’t making things all awkward.
”What am I not going to like?” Howie asks.
“I need a picture of you eating fruit while I feed it to you.”
“Wow,” Howie says. “That’s really lame.”
“AJ’s pretty lame,” Nick points out, and somehow that does make the whole thing make some sort of sense. Nick pushes the plate toward Howie and says, “Okay, which one do you want?” The plate is laid out with strawberries, orange slices, pineapple, and what might be pears.
Howie shakes his head and says, “Nick, I really don’t care. You can choose.”
Nick chooses a hunk of pineapple. He positions his camera in one hand and then holds the chocolate covered hunk of fruit in the other, waving it in Howie’s face. The whole thing looks like an awkward juggling act for Nick, but is probably less awkward then if he tried to get another waiter to take the picture.
“Okay, Howard,” Nick says, his voice getting kind of high and sing-songy. “Open up.”
Nick’s eyes are wide and he’s smiling a little and Howie bursts out laughing and has to turn away.
“Come on!” Nick says, trying not to join in. “AJ thinks this is supposed to be sexy! You’re ruining it.”
“I’m ruining it?” Howie repeats. “I think the sexiness of this moment was ruined long before I became involved.”
“Okay,” Nick concedes. “Well, just pretend. You used to want to be an actor, remember?”
Howie shrugs and then nods, takes a deep breath to try to stop the giggling and has to close his eyes for a moment as Nick starts coming at him again with the pineapple.
“I really hope your real dates aren’t like this,” Howie says and then decides it’s time to get this over with. He leans in to meet Nick’s hand and takes the pineapple between his teeth. Nick’s not letting go so Howie bits down and the pineapple is juicier than he expects, dripping onto Nick’s hand. The juice dribbles a little down Howie’s lip. He tries to catch it with his tongue and when that fails, wipes his chin with the side of his hand instead.
Nick snaps the picture and raises an eyebrow, says “two more to go.” He pops the other half of the pineapple into his own mouth and then licks the juice from his finger, wipes his hand on his jeans.
“That wasn’t very sexy,” Nick says. “No offense.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees.
“I mean, it was funny and kind of cute the way your nose was crunched up like you thought the whole thing was gross and weird. It just wasn’t sexy.”
“Okay,” Howie says.
“it wasn’t unsexy though,” Nick continues. “Like I don’t want to not have sex with you because of it.”
“Can we move on now please?”
“Yeah, okay,” Nick says and exhales as though relieved for the permission to change the subject. He grabs a strawberry from the plate and bites into it with a sucking noise. Howie sips his coffee and looks away.
**
“See,” Nick says, safely back in the car with coffee and dessert accomplished. “This isn’t so bad, right?”
“It’s not totally awful,” Howie agrees.
“That’s why I picked you, man. It was AJ and Brian’s idea, so you know either of them would have made this whole thing hell, right? And they said I could pick Kev if I could get him to agree, but who would choose Kevin? But you, I knew you’d be annoyed, but you’d get over it and it’d be fun. I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but I hoped.”
“It’s not completely un-fun,” Howie concedes.
Nick turns to grin at him. “We have just two things left.”
“The kiss,” Howie supplies. “What’s the other one?”
Nick is still grinning at him, but now it looks a little forced, like he’s trying to sell whatever he’s about to say. “A romantic moonlit walk on the beach?”
“Oh,” Howie says, because that doesn’t actually sound that bad. “Do I have to get wet? I’m not getting wet.”
“No,” Nick says. “We just need to do a little - like I need you to lean on me and put your arm around my waist while we walk. Stuff like that. Just pretend you like me, I guess.”
Howie nods, thinking it still doesn’t sound all that painful. And then after the beach, the only thing left is the kiss, which is sort of sounding less and less awkward as the night progresses. If Howie’d just had one more glass of - “pull over here,” he says, pointing to a nearly empty parking lot, lit by a neon sign that’s missing half of it’s the lights. Howie’s pretty sure the sign should say ‘Americana Hotel’. What it actually says is -
“Icana Hot?” Nick reads. “What is that?”
“I don’t know, but they have a bar,” Howie replies. “I was just thinking we’d get a drink, you know. Just a little more liquid courage, right?”
Nick hesitates for a moment, as though he’s not sure what to do now that Howie’s veering him off the set list.
“The beach will still be there,” Howie points out.
Eventually Nick nods and gets out of the car, coming around the front to open the door for Howie.
Inside it’s dark and mostly empty and even though smoking is not allowed in California bars, the place somehow still has that stale cigarette smell. If they weren’t on this ‘date’ it would probably be a place that Nick would really get a kick out of, but Nick has other things on his mind and Howie follows as Nick makes a beeline for the bar, his hand stretched out behind him a little as though he’d be holding Howie’s hand if he wasn’t afraid that someone (and possibly that someone might be Howie) would beat him up if they saw. Other than the bartender, there are only about 10 people in the bar, and they all seem to be occupied with other things anyway, so as they get close, Howie slips his hand into Nick’s for those last few steps. Nick slides onto a stool and looks down at Howie’s hand and then up at Howie’s face, eyebrow raised. Howie shrugs and releases Nick’s hand.
“What do you want to drink?” Nick asks him, the question shaping his features.
Howie shrugs again, orders a beer and starts to wonder if he really needs the liquid courage that much at all, if maybe this whole thing is just Howie trying to create excuses for later. Nick’s hand was warm in his, and when they sit at the bar their knees touch and neither of them bothers to move away. As the date starts winding down, kissing Nick is sounding less and less awkward and more like something Howie maybe wouldn’t mind doing much at all.
They sit there quietly for a while, sipping their beers, and then the conversation turns to the recording they’ve been doing, a new song they’re working on. Howie laid down some vocals for the track a few days earlier and Nick apparently thinks it’s one of the best things Howie’s ever done. Howie can’t tell if Nick is being genuine or purposely trying to flatter him.
“Thanks,” he says, and he can feel that his cheeks are a little red, but Nick doesn’t seem to be mocking him at all.
Howie orders two shots of Jack Daniels, and Nick does laugh at him now, but downs the shot when Howie pushes it toward him.
Afterward they stand around in the parking lot waiting for their cab to arrive and Nick checks to make sure that his car is locked four times.
“If my car is gone when I come back tomorrow you’re totally paying for it,” Nick says. “You know that, right?”
Howie snorts. “Two beers and a shot of JD and that’s the end of the chivalry, huh? I’ll have to start warning your girlfriends not to get you drunk.”
“I just wanted a nice walk on the beach,” Nick mumbles. “And now we’re hanging out in some seedy parking lot for a place called Icana Hot.”
“Americana Hotel,” Howie says.
“Whatever.” Nick pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a photo of the neon sign for posterity or something. Then he thinks about it for a moment and takes a picture of his car too. “Something to remember her by.”
The cab seems to be taking an extraordinarily long time to arrive. Howie’s starting to think that by the time it does arrive they’ll probably be sobered up enough to drive themselves.
“Well,” he sighs, just to fill the silence. “You can’t say I’m not a cheap date.”
“Dude, I just sold my first born to pay for dinner.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t choose that place. I’m a cheap date, Brian’s the gold digger,” Howie points out, just as a taxi pulls into the parking lot. Nick gives Howie a little shove toward the door, his hand lingering a little on Howie’s shoulder, thumb rubbing once across the neckline of Howie’s shirt.
In the car Nick talks to the cab driver about their worst fender benders and the best beaches for surfing (even though Nick pretty much never surfs). When the cab stops a few feet from the beach, Nick hands the driver a wad of bills and asks him to wait.
They walk down the beach. The weather is nice, breezy, and Howie smiles when Nick bumps into him, probably on purpose.
“We don’t hang out enough anymore,” Nick says. “Like actually hang out, not go on fake dates.”
“Yeah,” Howie agrees, though he thinks this is normal. It’s just that they aren’t on tour. This is how it always is with them - extremes. On tour they see each other every day. When the tour ends they make an effort not to see each other at all, then they gradually get used to one another again throughout the recording process. Howie’s been seeing the fellas in the studio, but not much outside of it and that’s normal, but he gets what Nick’s saying. It’s almost time for another tour.
“Maybe we should make Icana Hot a weekly thing,” Nick suggests. Howie raises an eyebrow and when he turns to see if Nick is serious, Nick laughs at him. “Or we could do something else instead.”
“That would be good,” Howie says, and he means it. He enjoys spending time with Nick, enjoys it even more when they aren’t physically exhausted and sleep deprived.
Eventually Nick finds a large piece of driftwood far enough from the parking lot to be deemed satisfactory. He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and uses it to prop the phone on the log.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s got a timer,” Nick explains. “There’s a pretty good camera in this thing.”
Howie sits on the other end of the log while Nick continues fiddling with his phone, getting everything set up for whatever exactly it is that comes next.
“Okay,” Nick says after a minute or two. “Okay, we’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” Howie asks.
“Okay,” Nick says for a third time, holding out his hands and making sure everything is steady. “I’m going to press this button. As soon as I do, we’re going to start walking away from the camera and you’re going to put your arm around my waist and like I don’t know, rest your head on my shoulder or something. We’ve got like 30 seconds until this thing takes the picture.”
“This is all getting really complicated,” Howie notes.
“No, come on, it’s easy. Ready? I’m going to press the button as soon as you’re ready.”
Nick waits for Howie to sigh and stand from his log, come to Nick.
“Ready?” Nick says again.
“Yeah, yeah,” Howie agrees, sliding his arm around Nick’s waist as Nick hits the button of the camera.
“Walk, walk,” Nick says, pulling Howie along with him. And then after a moment, it’s all “Wait, slow down,” and Nick’s hand is around Howie’s shoulders, pushing Howie’s head toward Nick. Howie frowns at Nick, the side of his head hitting the bone in Nick’s shoulder a little too hard. He repositions himself so that he’s a little more comfortable and then says “Did it take yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Nick says. They stop and just hold the position until finally, Howie can’t take it anymore. He pinches Nick’s side and Nick jumps away from Howie, kicks sand at Howie’s legs, and then goes to check the camera.
“Well?”
Nick bites his lip and presses some buttons. “I, uh - I programmed it wrong. Hold on.” He repositions the camera and then presses the button, rushing back to Howie so that they can get into position. The whole thing is as staged as it gets, but Howie’s arm slides back around Nick’s waist easily and Nick’s skin is warm beneath his shirt, his arm comfortable across Howie’s shoulders. Howie leans his head back on Nick’s arm and this time he pays attention to the familiar smell of Nick when he leans his nose close to Nick’s shirt, to the way Nick’s fingers press against Howie’s shoulder, pulling him in just that little bit closer.
Eventually Nick turns his head toward Howie and says “Do you think it’s been thirty seconds? I didn’t hear it click.” Howie can almost feel Nick speaking the words, his mouth is so near the top of Howie’s head.
“I think it clicked,” Howie says, quietly. “We probably wouldn’t hear it over the waves, right?”
“Probably,” Nick agrees, but he doesn’t move right away. They stand there like that for another moment, staring out at the ocean, and then Nick leans into Howie a little more and his lips press against Howie’s hair for just a moment, replaced by his cheek, and then the soft pressure is gone. Howie turns to look at Nick and Nick shakes his head and shrugs, releases Howie and goes to check the camera.
“Did it work?” Howie asks, attempting to look over Nick’s shoulder. He can’t see much.
“Yeah,” Nick says. “Yeah, I mean, it’s dark. We probably could have taken a picture of anything and they wouldn’t have noticed, but we got it.”
“Good,” Howie says.
On the way back across the beach Nick takes a deep breath and says, “That was a little weird.”
“It wasn’t that weird.”
Howie can feel Nick staring at him and then Nick says, “I meant like the, just standing there pretending we were walking part.”
“Oh,” Howie says. “Yeah, that was kind of weird.”
“I guess it’s only going to get weirder though, right?”
“What?”
“I mean, the kissing part.”
Howie shrugs because the kissing part is getting less and less weird for Howie. “I told you the bar was a good idea.”
“We probably should have stayed for at least another drink,” Nick says. “I maybe could have used another drink.”
Howie frowns and doesn’t answer.
“What?” Nick asks, and shoves Howie’s shoulder a little.
“You’ve gotta be drunk to kiss me now?” Howie asks, shoves Nick back. “At dinner you were practically begging.”
“Oh, I’ll kiss you,” Nick says, grabbing at Howie before Howie sees it coming. Howie struggles as Nick folds him in his arms and holds him tight and then proceeds to plant a slobbery kiss on Howie’s cheek.
“Okay,” Howie laughs, pushing at Nick’s chest. “Okay, stop!” And then his leg wraps around Nick’s knee and Nick lands on him hard in the sand. Howie coughs, tries to catch his breath, pushes at Nick a little.
“Sorry,” Nick says. He rolls off of Howie so they’re both lying on their backs in the sand. “Sorry.”
“I think that was my fault,” Howie says. “I kind of tripped you there.”
“Okay,” Nick agrees, reaching across to shove at Howie. “Then I’m not sorry.”
“So whose idea was the beach?” Howie asks, even though he already knows the answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Brian chose the restaurant. AJ made you feed me fruit. So whose idea was the moonlight walk?”
“Oh,” Nick says. “Mine.”
“Yeah,” Howie says. “It was nice.”
Nick doesn’t say anything. They lie there listening to the waves crash and then Nick stands abruptly, reaching down and pulling Howie up off the sand.
“The cab is waiting,” Nick explains.
They walk back to the parking lot in silence.
**
When the time comes for the good night kiss, Howie finds that his stomach feels a little funny, that he’s been anticipating this for a while now, that maybe he really does want Nick to kiss him, just a little.
They stand on Howie’s doorstep and Nick pulls his phone from his pocket. He takes a deep breath and then says, “Okay, you ready?”
Howie hesitates, thinking that maybe he wants it, but not sure he is ready at the same time. Finally he shrugs and says, “Let’s just get it over with, right?”
“Right,” Nick agrees, and holds his phone out at arms length. He takes a test shot of the sides of their heads just make sure he’s judging the distance right and getting them into the frame. Apparently the shot is fine, because he nods and holds the phone out again, this time leaning in toward Howie.
“Here goes,” Nick says, and then before Howie has time to react, Nick closes the distance between them, his lips moving in to meet Howie’s, a light press of soft skin. When Nick’s mouth presses against his a little harder, Howie closes his eyes, expecting the kiss to begin.
And then the phone clicks and Nick pulls away.
“Oh,” Howie says. It was a stage kiss, completely. The sloppy kiss that Nick gave him on the beach was more real than this. Howie can’t help but feel like the whole thing is - well, anticlimactic.
Nick’s staring at him, seems to be trying to read something in Howie’s face. Finally, he licks his lips and says, “That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“I don’t think you gave me cooties or anything,” Howie agrees.
Nick checks the picture and then frowns, just a little.
“Well?” Howie asks.
Nick shrugs.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Nick says. “I mean, it’s fine, whatever. It just looks like we were forced to kiss is all. Like - I don’t know, it’s fine.”
“What?” Howie asks. “You want to try it again?”
“Nah,” Nick says.
“We can try it again,” Howie repeats. “I mean, you could actually kiss me. I won’t punch you or anything.”
Nick meets Howie’s eyes for a moment, then glances back down at the picture on his phone.
“I’ve already put you through enough, I think,” Nick says. “I’ll just send them this and then you’re totally off the hook.”
“Nick,” Howie says and then grabs the phone from Nick’s hand. “Kiss me again.”
Nick opens his mouth to protest and Howie’s starting to think that he should have shut up, that Nick probably really doesn’t want to kiss Howie at all, that Howie is standing there making a gigantic ass of himself and Nick is just trying to fulfill his short end of the bet stick.
“I don’t -“ Nick starts and then, just when Howie is about back off, turn away, embarrassed that he’d pretty much insisted and laid himself out like that, just when Howie starts to feel his face start to flush, Nick steps into Howie’s personal space, looming over him, and then Nick’s mouth is pressed against Howie’s once more. It’s that stage kiss again, as though Nick’s afraid of what might happen if they move, if they make it real. Howie feels that disappointment return and then Nick shifts, his lips parting slightly, kissing Howie’s mouth, tentative, and Howie catches himself thinking finally.
“Like that?” Nick asks, pulling away just far enough to speak the words.
Howie nods and then leans in again so that now he’s in the lead, kissing Nick’s mouth open, taking his time, smiling when Nick’s hands move up Howie’s shoulders to hold his face. When Nick’s tongue finally slides into Howie’s mouth, finally brushes against Howie’s own, Howie’s stomach flips a little and he moans against Nick's lips. Nick’s thumbs brush across Howie’s cheeks as Nick’s kiss starts to get just a little bit dirty, and Howie’s hands press helplessly to the small of Nick’s back, nearly dropping Nick’s phone in an attempt to touch as much of Nick as he possibly can.
It’s the realization that Howie’s still holding Nick’s phone that pulls him out of the moment, has him moving away from Nick and running a hand through his hair.
Nick’s mouth is red, his lips wet, and Howie looks away and says, “I don’t put out on the first date.” He’s only half finished with the sentence when he starts to question his sanity in even saying it. Still, the small fraction of Howie’s brain that is still concentrated on reason thinks that maybe they should take a little time with this. Maybe they should sleep on it and see if they aren’t mortified in the morning when they wake up and start thinking about their game of tonsil hockey on Howie’s doorstep.
“You’re sure?” Nick asks. His voice sounds hoarse. “Cause Brian and AJ would love a picture of -“ Nick trails off, swallows, and reaches out to pull a little at the hair at the back of Howie’s neck, rubs his thumb across the skin behind Howie’s ear and the reasonable fraction of Howie’s brain threatens to join the rest, the large majority that is thinking about how good the kiss would have been if they were both naked.
Nick clears his throat and removes his hand and says, “When you think about it, it’s not really our first date at all.”
Howie’s nodding, but then he shakes his head, says “You brought me flowers and held the door open and now you’re trying to tell me it’s not a first date.”
“Do you put out on the second date?” Nick asks, getting straight to the point.
Howie shrugs. “Not if you bring AJ and Brian with you,” he says and hands Nick back his phone. Nick’s fingers linger a little on Howie’s hand and Howie says, “Yeah, maybe.”
He can’t help it. He’s smiling and Nick’s hands are on him again and they aren’t even that drunk. They didn’t really need the cab to get home from the beach, so they aren’t that drunk at all, and this is Nicky and it should be weirder than this, more awkward, a little disturbing maybe. Howie would never have guessed that as messed up as they are when it comes to most things, this is what seems surprisingly right and normal for them.
“So,” Howie says, laughing when Nick leans in to kiss him again. “When is this second date?”
“Tomorrow,” Nick says. “Or right now if you want.”
“Tomorrow,” Howie agrees.
“Okay,” Nick says, kisses Howie one more time, lingering a little against Howie’s mouth. His nose bumps Howie and Nick hardly pulls away before he says, “the cab left.”
Howie kisses Nick’s mouth once more, one last taste before he pulls away and says, “I guess you better call for another one.”
He could lend Nick his car, but somehow that just seems less fun.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Howie says, “Good night, Nick.” Howie doesn’t wait for Nick to stop him, doesn’t wait for Nick to say anything more, instead escapes into the house, shutting the door. He stands there for a moment and then walks into the den, not turning on any lights or bothering to remove his shoes. He stands in front of the bay window and tries to convince himself that spying on Nick is not at all what Howie wants to do. It works as well as it would if he were trying to convince himself that he didn’t enjoy a fake date with Nick Carter more than any real date he’d been on in the last year. He hesitates only a second before he’s slipping a finger between the drapes and peering through the crack. Nick’s on the phone, a hand combing through his hair so that it’s sticking up every which way. He’s unbuttoned a few of the buttons at the collar of his shirt and as Howie watches Nick sighs visibly, shoves the phone into his pocket and sits down on Howie’s front steps. His hands rub the knees of his jeans, waiting for a cab to come and take him back to his empty house.
Howie can still taste Nick, still feel Nick’s mouth on his, the firm press of Nick’s hands on him, and he stops thinking, pulls away from the window and walks back into the front hall, opening the door. Nick starts, surprised, and looks up at Howie.
“You’re here early,” Howie says.
Nick’s quiet for a moment and then he shakes his head and says, “What?”
“I thought you were picking me up at noon,” Howie says and then looks at his watch. “You’re early.”
“For our date,” Nick translates, slowly. His expression is less confused now, more like he’s trying to hide the start of a smile.
“Our second date,” Howie clarifies.
“What are we going to do?” Nick asks, holding out a hand for Howie to help him up from the steps.
“I don’t know,” Howie says. He grabs Nick’s hand and pulls Nick up off the steps. “You showed up too early for lunch.”
“Sorry,” Nick says, not releasing Howie’s hand right away. When Howie realizes that Nick doesn’t intend to let go, he tightens his own grip.
“I guess you could cancel your cab and come in for a while.”
‘Yeah?” Nick asks.
“Come on,” Howie says, pulls Nick toward the front door. Nick kicks the front door shut behind them, and suddenly they are right back where they started the evening, standing awkwardly in Howie’s front hallway. The only difference is that this time they’re both flushed and flustered. This time they’re holding hands.
Nick is hesitating; his mouth open like he isn’t sure what he should do now, never thought this would actually be part of his plan. Finally, when it becomes apparent that Nick is going to take all night to make the first move, Howie pulls at Nick’s hand. Nick stumbles forward so that they’re standing close, so that all Nick needs to do now is lean in.
Nick releases Howie’s hand, wipes his palm on his jeans, and says “I didn’t actually call a cab yet.”
“Okay,” Howie says. “Good.”
“You sure you want to -“ Nick starts, and then he seems to think better of it and kisses Howie instead. Howie isn’t sure, thinks they might still wake up and wonder what the hell they were thinking, but Nick’s kissing him, guiding him toward the stairs and as they pass the kitchen Howie sees the flowers sitting on the counter, stuck awkwardly in a vase with the paper still wrapped around them. Howie pulls Nick up the stairs and thinks that maybe sometimes, being dragged into these things doesn’t turn out so bad.