Ser Sucio, Chapter 8.
Jan. 23rd, 2005 03:03 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregAuthor: Exit Music
Title: Ser Sucio, Chapter 8
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17 due to subject matter.
Warnings: violence of sorts.
Spoilers: contains elements from "Play With Fire" and "Overload."
Summary: AU, Ghosts of the past. Chapter eight of a WIP.
A/N: I do not own these characters, I merely worship them.
Nick woke up before the sun, dreams soaking through into consciousness. Looking over, Greg was motionless, slight rise with each intake, face still. The calm before the storm, he thought, scratching a temple. He had so many thoughts firing inside, mad race of uncertainty. The hallucinations leaked out through splitting fingertips, red crossing over into white. He wanted to wake Greg; he craved touch, a need to wash away the things that sat waiting in the shadows. Instead he crept to the kitchen, Crystal rustling papers over an early breakfast.
“Mornin, hun. Coffee?” he shook his head, opting for ice water.
“You’ve got quite the heavy head on ya, Nicky.”
“I do, Chris. Nightmares are getting worse, can’t seem to shake them right away anymore.” She nodded, rubbing his tensed back.
“So now, what would these frights be about then?” Knowing he wouldn’t get another chance, he confessed, seeking absolution for imaginary sins.
“Well, you know I’m not just here for a family reunion.”
“Yep, keep going.”
“I’m here to get rid of an old memory. Something happened to me when I was a boy, something damn bad that I can’t seem to bury.”
“Talk to me, Nicky.” Aggravated by his own vagueness, Nick slammed a fist down, striking his thigh.
“Goddamn it, Chris, I was raped, ok? Fuckin’ babysitter chewed me up and spit me out. I was nine.” She dropped her head, surprising him with tears. He had seen Crystal cry maybe twice in their lifetimes, a shock to watch a force like her crumble so suddenly.
“Shit... That’s why you’re back?” She moved her chair closer, affecting a hushed tone.
“Nicky…was her name Celia?” He frowned, clenching jaw muscles as confused anger threatened to release outwards.
“How did you know?” She pointed to the tree visible from the window, dawn lighting the way.
“Cause that’s the name you shredded into Daddy’s tree when you were little. He had nailed a plank over it, after he passed I pried it off.”
“I don’t remember doing that, Chris, not at all.” She sighed, slipping on shoes.
“I don’t doubt it, something that horrible, don’t doubt it a bit. Get something on Nick, I think ya need to see it for yourself.”
They walked arm in arm, feet floating over dewy grass, and slowed to a stop. She gestured to the opposite side, letting Nick circle around.
“Spot it?”
Glancing down, the scarred tree spoke of a child, a boy surrounded. Scrawled phonetically in brutal lines, it read:
“It took me bout ten times of saying that out loud to figure out what it meant, Nick. When I did it scared me, cause most little kids don’t gore up a tree that nasty ‘less they’ve got something to say. I just figured you’d either forgot, or would tell me in time.”
Dropping to his knees, the image came hurdling past.
Summer afternoon on the farm, Crystal chasing a dog into the house, clothes flapping noisily on the line. Storm clouds gathering, whispers of a possible tornado. The feeling of excitement, maybe this time the farmhouse’ll get picked up and carried somewhere new. He could leave her behind, drop a house on her and be happy. Running to the shed, he spotted the gleam of a handle. One last thing before Oz. He wanted to put a curse on her, let God see her name so he can fix her good. The screwdriver felt heavy in his hand, the repetitive motion erupting small blisters on his palms, the pain was ok, it was for her, he was certain she felt it too. If the tornado carried him away, God would still know. Black clouds looming, adults yelling, he dropped the tool, rushing into the cellar.
“Nick, what are you planning to do?” He wiped damp blades from bare knees, shaking his head.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got an idea.” He jogged over to the old shed; remembering the pocket axe his uncle had hanging above the workbench, out of the reach of little hands. She smiled, permission given. He chipped away at the name, each letter disappearing quickly with the blows, until only jagged white belly remained. He turned, dropping the implement, embracing Crystal tightly as she cried for him.
“It’s ok, Chris, I’m gonna make it right.” She sniffled, smacking his shoulder lightly.
“I know. I’m just worried is all. You’re hunting down something that you may not find, and if you do, then what?” He didn’t reply, staring at the bark shavings littering the ground.
“Nick, then what?” He grunted at her, striding back to the house.
---
Zippers screeching, Greg peeked out from the covers to see Nick packing luggage. A strong scent became apparent, sharp tang of sweat and outside.
“Well good morning. Have you been doing yard work or something?” He rolled off the bed, wrapping arms around Nick’s waist, placing a kiss on his sticky neck. Scanning the room, he realized that everything was packed away; clothes for the day were laid out neatly on opposite chairs, all set and ready to go.
“I guess you’re ready to leave, huh?” Nick mouthed a ‘yes,’ keys in hand signaling a need to leave.
“No shower? Ah nevermind, we’ll be grubby today, why not.” Sliding into sun-warmed jeans, Greg followed him to the main room. Crystal waited outside the front door, a basket of food in one hand. She seemed different, spark dampened slightly.
“Alright you two, be careful, it’s the weekend, and ya know what that means. Lots a damn tourists on the road. Nick, please…call me when ya settle, ok?” She hugged him, kissing his forehead and slapping his back.
“Greg, wait a minute. I need to fetch something from the bedroom, Nick, start up the love machine; your sweetiepie will be along shortly.” He laughed, throwing bags into the trunk. Taking him inside, Crystal explained the tree incident, voicing her worries about Nick’s stability.
“Greggo, darlin, will you do me a favor?”
“If things get too heavy, call me, ok? Sometimes Nick just doesn’t think right away, but I’m sure you know that.” He smiled, agreeing.
“Goodbye you crazy sons a bitches!” She bellowed from the porch, waving as they pulled away.
---
Resting at the far edge of capitol, it stood, a monument to fifty years of work, long white columns parallel to the oversized door. Lawn rolled with crisp green, sculptured bushes recently tended to, blacktop fresh perfection. Greater Austin Home and Garden cover page. He rapped his fingers on the wheel, hesitant.
“Well…this is it. Are you sure you wanna come in, babe, cause it might, no, it will get ugly in there.” Greg held his hand firmly, brushing a thumb across knuckles.
“I’m coming in. Don’t worry about me… for I am Super Boyfriend!” Nick chuckled softly, exiting the car. The steps from the street seemed to multiply, painted cement stretching with each glance. Reaching the door, he fought the urge to flee. Knock, boy, go on and knock.
“Good lord, Nicky, what are you doing here?” It was Saturday, Elaine Stokes was still trying to keep house, only if now that meant giving orders to the help.
“Well, come on in, your father’s at a luncheon, won’t be back til later.” She eyed Greg’s disheveled hair and crooked smile, ushering them to the livingroom. It was a museum, Nick half expected velvet ropes sectioning off areas of interest. Nothing like the house in Dallas, it was warmer, cozier in his mind. This wasn’t a home.
“So, how are you feeling?” Without Senior around, she had the opportunity to play mom.
“I’m doing better, healing up good.”
“That’s good to hear, Nicky.” She whispered a refreshment order to the maid, flashing an awkward smile at them.
“So what brings you back here? I wish you would’ve called, I would’ve had the family over for supper.”
“I’m just passing through, Mom. I’m actually here for a name.” She reclined back, unconsciously playing with the clasp on her watch.
“A name, Nicky?”
“Do you remember a gal that used to live around here, babysat for ya once, Celia?”
“Why sure I do, she works as a secretary in the court building now. Been there almost three years.”
“Mom, Austin is a big place, are you sure that’s her?” She sipped loudly, replying.
“Yes, I’m very sure, her mother and I played bridge together for a few years in Dallas, I helped her transfer to get the position here. Why are you asking about her?” Furied scoring of lines tightened his face.
“I’ve…been reliving old times is all, Momma.”
“Why, you still have that crush?” She snorted, playfully nudging his knee.
“Have you told Greg about how you marked up Uncle Dean’s tree? Boy, was he ever hopping mad! We told him little boys do things like that, we laughed about it for the longest time. SEEL-YA! Lord, that was quite a while ago.” Hand balled into a fist, Nick suppressed himself.
“Nah, I forgot about it. I just thought I’d go say hi, would she be at the luncheon by any chance?” She gestured a no, setting her cup on the glass table.
“I’m sorry Nicky, she’s out of town until Monday. Are y’all planning on staying here that long?”
“Yeah, we’ll be here.”
“Well, you know I’d ask you to stay with us, but your daddy…” She trailed, shame coating empty words.
“That’s ok, Momma. We’re headed to a motel anyhow.” She touched his hand, looking for the little person she used to know, finding only a man, a stranger.
“Come back later tonight for supper, please? You should at least tell your father you’re here.”
“Only if Greg’s welcome, you know where I stand.” She winced, seeing a spectacle brewing.
“Yes, he’s welcome. Just try not to advertise Nicky, ok?” Grind of molars.
“We’ll be here ‘round six, Momma.” With that, they set out.
---
The motel room was dark, chilled by the air conditioner, stale chemical smell wafting. Collapsing on the bed, he watched Nick hastily flip through a phone book, furrowed expression. The day had been hard, the rude shock of reality causing both to be at a loss. Greg dreaded the dinner, never admitting to Nick that he was very frightened of his parents, Mr. Stokes in particular. Greg’s parents had been fairly accepting, as cool as Scandinavian winters, but never vicious or cruel at the mention of Nick. Peeling off his pants, he gathered clean clothes from his gym bag.
“I’m gonna grab a shower, Nicky. Are you ok?” Gazing over, he nodded; mind somewhere else.
Stepping in, the water set muscles to gelatin on impact, wobbling slightly; he placed his head directly in the stream, melting away the edges. Eyes closed, meditating, he didn’t hear Nick enter until fingers grazed his outer thighs. With bandaged hand extended beyond the curtain, Nick explored his body, wordlessly conveying his want. He turned to face him, putting lips to a mouth worried by the day. Tongues met, rolling in sync with the percussion of water, moaning as their erect cocks rubbed together. He clutched at Nick’s ass, propelling him even closer, mouths widening with the deepened kiss. Sensing Nick faintly trembling, he turned off the shower, toweling both bodies off, hand in hand to the bed.
Turning down the rough duvet, he let Nick lie stomach up, moving legs to stretch out. Greg draped over him, licking moist curves over pectorals, lapping at hardened nipples. Nick squirmed beneath him, every touch sending a hot bolt through his body. Greg grinned, parts twitching against him with slight shift of hips. Spitting, he coated Nick’s shaft, and without warning, pulled him inside, gasping at the sharp intrusion. As muscles relaxed deep inside, Greg lulled forward, pushing an involuntary moan from Nick’s chest. They rocked as one, tightly holding hands as the pace increased, Greg contracting with every downswing, garnering a nonsensical grunt from his partner. Shudder quickening, he slammed down onto Nick several times, ripping a cry from surprised lungs. Action sending glowing white behind his eyes, Nick constricted Greg’s dick with a warm fist, pumping in time with his own swiftly approaching orgasm. Wet hot being expelled, he nestled his head, calming his breath against Nick. Not wanting to feel hollow, Greg kept him inside, both dozing from the exertion.
“Nicky…was she listed in the book?”
“Mmmm…nope.”
---
“Back already.” The front hall’s chandelier gleaming obnoxiously, they knocked in unison.
“Well, boys, nice to see you again, come in, come in.” Taking their coats, she led them to the dining room.
“I’m sorry, we started early, your father…” Nick nodded, expecting as much. They sat down; medium plates of brightly colored vegetables adorned the table. They ate in silence, slight clink of metal to porcelain. Nathaniel Stokes glanced up slightly, noticeable grimace forming. Folding up his newspaper, he swigged red wine.
“So, your mother tells me you’re digging up the past.”
“Something like that.” Sucking wind through his teeth, his father turned to Greg.
“So, how does that make ya feel, Sanders, him looking for old gal pals? Sounds kinda shaky, marital bliss not so blissful?”
“Damn it, Dad!” He readied to stand, Greg holding him down.
“Nick, Nate, please. Let’s just eat dinner.” She picked at her carrots, miming enjoyment.
“Now, I was talking to the boy, answer.”
“I’ve never felt better, Mr. Stokes, thanks for asking.” A puzzled look cast over Nate’s face, he questioned further.
“And why’s that, son?” A broad, lopsided grin shined, turning to him, Greg held Nick’s hand under the table.
“Well, the fact that your son and I fucked before heading over here makes me feel pretty good. Yep, I’m fantastic, Mr. Stokes.” Nick’s cheeks flushed as a smile peeked through.
“Oh lord.” Elaine excused herself, zigzagging out. He got up to leave, Greg following suit.
“I knew you came here just to piss me off, you live your whole life to piss me off, boy!” Nick balled up the cloth napkin, throwing it at his father.
“You’re right Daddy, I love the fact that you can’t stand my presence, and I hope to God you know I feel the same about you! You make me sick, old man…Greg, I gotta go.”
Storming down the walk, he heard the click of heels, turning back, Nick nearly ran into her.
“Nicky, it was my fault, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you come over, bad idea, bad idea.”
“It’s alright, Mom, we’ll be fine. Get back in there, go on.” She pushed back tears, pacing off.
Ignition chugging on, he sought out Greg’s hand, apology under disappointed breath.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“No need to be. You ok?”
“Yeah, just a little let down. I hoped against hope, you know?” Biting the inside of his cheek, he concentrated on the road.
“Me too, Nick.”
---
tbc.
Chapter 1 HERE
Chapter 2 HERE
Chapter 3 HERE
Chapter 4 HERE
Chapter 5 HERE
Chapter 6 HERE
Chapter 7 HERE
Title: Ser Sucio, Chapter 8
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17 due to subject matter.
Warnings: violence of sorts.
Spoilers: contains elements from "Play With Fire" and "Overload."
Summary: AU, Ghosts of the past. Chapter eight of a WIP.
A/N: I do not own these characters, I merely worship them.
Nick woke up before the sun, dreams soaking through into consciousness. Looking over, Greg was motionless, slight rise with each intake, face still. The calm before the storm, he thought, scratching a temple. He had so many thoughts firing inside, mad race of uncertainty. The hallucinations leaked out through splitting fingertips, red crossing over into white. He wanted to wake Greg; he craved touch, a need to wash away the things that sat waiting in the shadows. Instead he crept to the kitchen, Crystal rustling papers over an early breakfast.
“Mornin, hun. Coffee?” he shook his head, opting for ice water.
“You’ve got quite the heavy head on ya, Nicky.”
“I do, Chris. Nightmares are getting worse, can’t seem to shake them right away anymore.” She nodded, rubbing his tensed back.
“So now, what would these frights be about then?” Knowing he wouldn’t get another chance, he confessed, seeking absolution for imaginary sins.
“Well, you know I’m not just here for a family reunion.”
“Yep, keep going.”
“I’m here to get rid of an old memory. Something happened to me when I was a boy, something damn bad that I can’t seem to bury.”
“Talk to me, Nicky.” Aggravated by his own vagueness, Nick slammed a fist down, striking his thigh.
“Goddamn it, Chris, I was raped, ok? Fuckin’ babysitter chewed me up and spit me out. I was nine.” She dropped her head, surprising him with tears. He had seen Crystal cry maybe twice in their lifetimes, a shock to watch a force like her crumble so suddenly.
“Shit... That’s why you’re back?” She moved her chair closer, affecting a hushed tone.
“Nicky…was her name Celia?” He frowned, clenching jaw muscles as confused anger threatened to release outwards.
“How did you know?” She pointed to the tree visible from the window, dawn lighting the way.
“Cause that’s the name you shredded into Daddy’s tree when you were little. He had nailed a plank over it, after he passed I pried it off.”
“I don’t remember doing that, Chris, not at all.” She sighed, slipping on shoes.
“I don’t doubt it, something that horrible, don’t doubt it a bit. Get something on Nick, I think ya need to see it for yourself.”
They walked arm in arm, feet floating over dewy grass, and slowed to a stop. She gestured to the opposite side, letting Nick circle around.
“Spot it?”
Glancing down, the scarred tree spoke of a child, a boy surrounded. Scrawled phonetically in brutal lines, it read:
“It took me bout ten times of saying that out loud to figure out what it meant, Nick. When I did it scared me, cause most little kids don’t gore up a tree that nasty ‘less they’ve got something to say. I just figured you’d either forgot, or would tell me in time.”
Dropping to his knees, the image came hurdling past.
Summer afternoon on the farm, Crystal chasing a dog into the house, clothes flapping noisily on the line. Storm clouds gathering, whispers of a possible tornado. The feeling of excitement, maybe this time the farmhouse’ll get picked up and carried somewhere new. He could leave her behind, drop a house on her and be happy. Running to the shed, he spotted the gleam of a handle. One last thing before Oz. He wanted to put a curse on her, let God see her name so he can fix her good. The screwdriver felt heavy in his hand, the repetitive motion erupting small blisters on his palms, the pain was ok, it was for her, he was certain she felt it too. If the tornado carried him away, God would still know. Black clouds looming, adults yelling, he dropped the tool, rushing into the cellar.
“Nick, what are you planning to do?” He wiped damp blades from bare knees, shaking his head.
“I don’t know, but I’ve got an idea.” He jogged over to the old shed; remembering the pocket axe his uncle had hanging above the workbench, out of the reach of little hands. She smiled, permission given. He chipped away at the name, each letter disappearing quickly with the blows, until only jagged white belly remained. He turned, dropping the implement, embracing Crystal tightly as she cried for him.
“It’s ok, Chris, I’m gonna make it right.” She sniffled, smacking his shoulder lightly.
“I know. I’m just worried is all. You’re hunting down something that you may not find, and if you do, then what?” He didn’t reply, staring at the bark shavings littering the ground.
“Nick, then what?” He grunted at her, striding back to the house.
---
Zippers screeching, Greg peeked out from the covers to see Nick packing luggage. A strong scent became apparent, sharp tang of sweat and outside.
“Well good morning. Have you been doing yard work or something?” He rolled off the bed, wrapping arms around Nick’s waist, placing a kiss on his sticky neck. Scanning the room, he realized that everything was packed away; clothes for the day were laid out neatly on opposite chairs, all set and ready to go.
“I guess you’re ready to leave, huh?” Nick mouthed a ‘yes,’ keys in hand signaling a need to leave.
“No shower? Ah nevermind, we’ll be grubby today, why not.” Sliding into sun-warmed jeans, Greg followed him to the main room. Crystal waited outside the front door, a basket of food in one hand. She seemed different, spark dampened slightly.
“Alright you two, be careful, it’s the weekend, and ya know what that means. Lots a damn tourists on the road. Nick, please…call me when ya settle, ok?” She hugged him, kissing his forehead and slapping his back.
“Greg, wait a minute. I need to fetch something from the bedroom, Nick, start up the love machine; your sweetiepie will be along shortly.” He laughed, throwing bags into the trunk. Taking him inside, Crystal explained the tree incident, voicing her worries about Nick’s stability.
“Greggo, darlin, will you do me a favor?”
“If things get too heavy, call me, ok? Sometimes Nick just doesn’t think right away, but I’m sure you know that.” He smiled, agreeing.
“Goodbye you crazy sons a bitches!” She bellowed from the porch, waving as they pulled away.
---
Resting at the far edge of capitol, it stood, a monument to fifty years of work, long white columns parallel to the oversized door. Lawn rolled with crisp green, sculptured bushes recently tended to, blacktop fresh perfection. Greater Austin Home and Garden cover page. He rapped his fingers on the wheel, hesitant.
“Well…this is it. Are you sure you wanna come in, babe, cause it might, no, it will get ugly in there.” Greg held his hand firmly, brushing a thumb across knuckles.
“I’m coming in. Don’t worry about me… for I am Super Boyfriend!” Nick chuckled softly, exiting the car. The steps from the street seemed to multiply, painted cement stretching with each glance. Reaching the door, he fought the urge to flee. Knock, boy, go on and knock.
“Good lord, Nicky, what are you doing here?” It was Saturday, Elaine Stokes was still trying to keep house, only if now that meant giving orders to the help.
“Well, come on in, your father’s at a luncheon, won’t be back til later.” She eyed Greg’s disheveled hair and crooked smile, ushering them to the livingroom. It was a museum, Nick half expected velvet ropes sectioning off areas of interest. Nothing like the house in Dallas, it was warmer, cozier in his mind. This wasn’t a home.
“So, how are you feeling?” Without Senior around, she had the opportunity to play mom.
“I’m doing better, healing up good.”
“That’s good to hear, Nicky.” She whispered a refreshment order to the maid, flashing an awkward smile at them.
“So what brings you back here? I wish you would’ve called, I would’ve had the family over for supper.”
“I’m just passing through, Mom. I’m actually here for a name.” She reclined back, unconsciously playing with the clasp on her watch.
“A name, Nicky?”
“Do you remember a gal that used to live around here, babysat for ya once, Celia?”
“Why sure I do, she works as a secretary in the court building now. Been there almost three years.”
“Mom, Austin is a big place, are you sure that’s her?” She sipped loudly, replying.
“Yes, I’m very sure, her mother and I played bridge together for a few years in Dallas, I helped her transfer to get the position here. Why are you asking about her?” Furied scoring of lines tightened his face.
“I’ve…been reliving old times is all, Momma.”
“Why, you still have that crush?” She snorted, playfully nudging his knee.
“Have you told Greg about how you marked up Uncle Dean’s tree? Boy, was he ever hopping mad! We told him little boys do things like that, we laughed about it for the longest time. SEEL-YA! Lord, that was quite a while ago.” Hand balled into a fist, Nick suppressed himself.
“Nah, I forgot about it. I just thought I’d go say hi, would she be at the luncheon by any chance?” She gestured a no, setting her cup on the glass table.
“I’m sorry Nicky, she’s out of town until Monday. Are y’all planning on staying here that long?”
“Yeah, we’ll be here.”
“Well, you know I’d ask you to stay with us, but your daddy…” She trailed, shame coating empty words.
“That’s ok, Momma. We’re headed to a motel anyhow.” She touched his hand, looking for the little person she used to know, finding only a man, a stranger.
“Come back later tonight for supper, please? You should at least tell your father you’re here.”
“Only if Greg’s welcome, you know where I stand.” She winced, seeing a spectacle brewing.
“Yes, he’s welcome. Just try not to advertise Nicky, ok?” Grind of molars.
“We’ll be here ‘round six, Momma.” With that, they set out.
---
The motel room was dark, chilled by the air conditioner, stale chemical smell wafting. Collapsing on the bed, he watched Nick hastily flip through a phone book, furrowed expression. The day had been hard, the rude shock of reality causing both to be at a loss. Greg dreaded the dinner, never admitting to Nick that he was very frightened of his parents, Mr. Stokes in particular. Greg’s parents had been fairly accepting, as cool as Scandinavian winters, but never vicious or cruel at the mention of Nick. Peeling off his pants, he gathered clean clothes from his gym bag.
“I’m gonna grab a shower, Nicky. Are you ok?” Gazing over, he nodded; mind somewhere else.
Stepping in, the water set muscles to gelatin on impact, wobbling slightly; he placed his head directly in the stream, melting away the edges. Eyes closed, meditating, he didn’t hear Nick enter until fingers grazed his outer thighs. With bandaged hand extended beyond the curtain, Nick explored his body, wordlessly conveying his want. He turned to face him, putting lips to a mouth worried by the day. Tongues met, rolling in sync with the percussion of water, moaning as their erect cocks rubbed together. He clutched at Nick’s ass, propelling him even closer, mouths widening with the deepened kiss. Sensing Nick faintly trembling, he turned off the shower, toweling both bodies off, hand in hand to the bed.
Turning down the rough duvet, he let Nick lie stomach up, moving legs to stretch out. Greg draped over him, licking moist curves over pectorals, lapping at hardened nipples. Nick squirmed beneath him, every touch sending a hot bolt through his body. Greg grinned, parts twitching against him with slight shift of hips. Spitting, he coated Nick’s shaft, and without warning, pulled him inside, gasping at the sharp intrusion. As muscles relaxed deep inside, Greg lulled forward, pushing an involuntary moan from Nick’s chest. They rocked as one, tightly holding hands as the pace increased, Greg contracting with every downswing, garnering a nonsensical grunt from his partner. Shudder quickening, he slammed down onto Nick several times, ripping a cry from surprised lungs. Action sending glowing white behind his eyes, Nick constricted Greg’s dick with a warm fist, pumping in time with his own swiftly approaching orgasm. Wet hot being expelled, he nestled his head, calming his breath against Nick. Not wanting to feel hollow, Greg kept him inside, both dozing from the exertion.
“Nicky…was she listed in the book?”
“Mmmm…nope.”
---
“Back already.” The front hall’s chandelier gleaming obnoxiously, they knocked in unison.
“Well, boys, nice to see you again, come in, come in.” Taking their coats, she led them to the dining room.
“I’m sorry, we started early, your father…” Nick nodded, expecting as much. They sat down; medium plates of brightly colored vegetables adorned the table. They ate in silence, slight clink of metal to porcelain. Nathaniel Stokes glanced up slightly, noticeable grimace forming. Folding up his newspaper, he swigged red wine.
“So, your mother tells me you’re digging up the past.”
“Something like that.” Sucking wind through his teeth, his father turned to Greg.
“So, how does that make ya feel, Sanders, him looking for old gal pals? Sounds kinda shaky, marital bliss not so blissful?”
“Damn it, Dad!” He readied to stand, Greg holding him down.
“Nick, Nate, please. Let’s just eat dinner.” She picked at her carrots, miming enjoyment.
“Now, I was talking to the boy, answer.”
“I’ve never felt better, Mr. Stokes, thanks for asking.” A puzzled look cast over Nate’s face, he questioned further.
“And why’s that, son?” A broad, lopsided grin shined, turning to him, Greg held Nick’s hand under the table.
“Well, the fact that your son and I fucked before heading over here makes me feel pretty good. Yep, I’m fantastic, Mr. Stokes.” Nick’s cheeks flushed as a smile peeked through.
“Oh lord.” Elaine excused herself, zigzagging out. He got up to leave, Greg following suit.
“I knew you came here just to piss me off, you live your whole life to piss me off, boy!” Nick balled up the cloth napkin, throwing it at his father.
“You’re right Daddy, I love the fact that you can’t stand my presence, and I hope to God you know I feel the same about you! You make me sick, old man…Greg, I gotta go.”
Storming down the walk, he heard the click of heels, turning back, Nick nearly ran into her.
“Nicky, it was my fault, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have had you come over, bad idea, bad idea.”
“It’s alright, Mom, we’ll be fine. Get back in there, go on.” She pushed back tears, pacing off.
Ignition chugging on, he sought out Greg’s hand, apology under disappointed breath.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“No need to be. You ok?”
“Yeah, just a little let down. I hoped against hope, you know?” Biting the inside of his cheek, he concentrated on the road.
“Me too, Nick.”
---
tbc.
Chapter 1 HERE
Chapter 2 HERE
Chapter 3 HERE
Chapter 4 HERE
Chapter 5 HERE
Chapter 6 HERE
Chapter 7 HERE
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no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 01:16 am (UTC)I'm sad that Nicky's father is such an asshole, but I guess it makes sense. It's just so sad that he has to be such a dick about Greg. I'm so glad Greg and Nick stood up to him though. :D
This fic just keeps getting better and better. I love it. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 01:19 am (UTC)Yeah, Papa Stokes really ticks me off too, but the dinner scene, I have been aching to write that, lol.
And thank you again for reading!
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:40 am (UTC)::forehead slap::
Sometimes my humor is better in person than on paper...or webpage... oh, hell. You know what I mean XD
no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 02:50 am (UTC)I can't wait to see the confrontation between Nick and Celia. Great work!!
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Date: 2005-01-24 03:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 02:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:37 am (UTC)*loves you and your Greg*
:)
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Date: 2005-01-24 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 01:44 pm (UTC)So there it is.
I really, really enjoy this story. I'm really curious about the confrontation of Nick and what's-her-name.
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Date: 2005-01-24 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-24 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-25 12:01 am (UTC)Thank you sweetheart <3
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Date: 2005-01-25 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-06 07:48 pm (UTC)Thanks sooo much for writing it!!!!
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Date: 2005-03-07 08:03 am (UTC)