Friday Afternoon
Title: Friday Afternoon
Characters: Nick Roland and Oliver Bell
Rating: R
Word count: 1650
Prompt: itsproductivity April 7: Dinner and a drink. April 12: Write about a key.
The phone rings promptly at 5:01, just after Oliver locks up the costume shop for the night. He doesn't have to look at the screen to know who it is, he just answers it. "Hey."
"Come over, Ollie. I haven't seen you in weeks."
"You saw me five days ago, Nick, don't exaggerate."
"Five? No way. What day is today?"
"It's Friday."
"No shit? Why did I think it was Sunday?"
"I'm going to go way out on a limb here and say it's probably drugs."
"Fuck you, Oliver, I know it's the drugs, I just don't know which one. Usually I lose time in the other direction."
"Don't say it like you're proud of it," Oliver sighs. He's glad Nick can't see him rolling his eyes. Nick snorts.
"Okay, so I haven't seen you in like a week. Are you going to come here?"
"Yes, because if I don't, you're going to try to drive here, and contrary to your beliefs, you are not a better driver when you're high." Oliver's already prepared to go straight to Portland, the way he does almost every Friday, whether Nick calls him or not. He wonders if he can diagnose what exactly Nick is on just by talking to him-- time loss suggests opiates, the fact that Nick called for his company could be drugs or could just be part of the strange dance they've been doing since the night he'd threatened to leave unless Nick started being honest about his feelings. And weed and cigarettes are just a given when he's talking about Nick.
"Shut the fuck up, I am a spectacular driver." Oliver just laughs as he gets in his car. Nick huffs. "I've only been in like three accidents!"
"That's three more than I've been in. No, stay exactly where you are, I'll be there in half an hour."
"Sweet. Be careful, it's a nice day, the staties are probably out on the interstate."
"Fine, I'll be there in forty minutes. Since when do you encourage me to uphold the law? Who are you and what have you done with Nick Roland?"
"Yeah, I'm fucking appalled at myself. Don't worry, we'll do some law-breaking once you get here."
"Dare I ask what's on the menu this weekend?" One of the perks of dating a drug dealer is good drugs, but there are a few things that even Oliver's boundless curiosity isn't brave enough to risk, and Nick will suggest one of them from time to time.
"Something new for you. One of my favorites."
"Give me a hint."
"It's not illegal. Well, technically it's illegal if you're not the one being prescribed it, but it's used in hospitals all the time."
"Hey, I told you when this all started, no needles."
"No needles! Tablets. I fucking remember, all right? You have few enough hard limits that I'm not going to go forgetting the ones you do have."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Oliver thinks back over the times Nick has waxed rhapsodic about drugs and picks out the one he means easily, since hospitals don't endorse candyflipping or smoking weed. "Morphine, right?"
"Bingo." There's a rattling sound; Oliver can just picture Nick shaking the amber pill bottle. "Good stuff. I think you're gonna like it."
"I liked it enough when they gave it to me when I broke my arm," Oliver says, "but I imagine the effect is a bit different when you take it recreationally." He's pleased that he correctly identified the effects of opiates on his boyfriend, at least.
"You'll find out soon enough. I'm gonna order a pizza, it should get here around the same time you do."
"Peppers and sausage. No olives this time!"
"Fuck you, olives are delicious. Fine, no olives, Oliver."
"Thank you. See you soon." Oliver tosses his cell phone onto the passenger seat and keeps an eye out for cops as he leaves Lewiston. It is a really nice day out, the roads are clear, and it's so tempting to speed, but Oliver keeps it to a moderate 68 miles per hour, not speeding fast enough to make him worth any statie's time. It's for the best: he passes three of them in the forty miles to Portland.
He parks next to Nick's beat-up green Civic and takes the stairs two at a time up to Nick's third-floor apartment. He knocks, startled when Nick immediately swings the door open.
"Hey, you made it before the pizza guy. Nice." Nick kisses Oliver quickly and then disappears into his bedroom, leaving Oliver in the doorway, slightly confused. He reappears quickly enough, one hand curled around something that he offers to Oliver. "Here," Nick says. Oliver holds out his hand, expecting a tiny pill; the key that drops onto his palm is a surprise, plain and silver, a small thing as shocking as a slap in the face.
"Nick?"
"What? You're here every weekend, now you have a key." Nick tries really hard to be nonchalant, but Oliver can read the tension around his blue eyes. Oliver pulls his keychain out of his pocket and slides Nick's key on next to his own house key, silver against dull brass, weirdly symbolic.
"Cool, now I don't have to wait for your lazy ass to get up and let me in," Oliver jokes, jingling the keys gently before tossing them on the messy coffee table. "Thanks, Nick." He reaches out and catches Nick's wrist, reeling him in for a kiss, lips lingering for a moment. Nick smiles at him, at ease now that Oliver isn't making a big deal out of it.
"So what do you want to do tonight? It's nice out, we could go to the woods or the beach or Sebago Lake or something."
"It's supposed to be nice tomorrow, too. If we're gonna go out into nature we should do it earlier in the day. Unless you want to go stargazing or something." Nick shakes his head and flops down onto the couch.
"Nah, let's do it tomorrow. Isn't there anything you want to do?"
"C'mon, Nick, you already know I'm up for anything." Oliver leans against the back of the couch and runs one hand over Nick's short ginger hair, smiling. "What's fun to do when you're on morphine?"
"Everything is fun on morphine," Nick says fervently, tilting his head back into Oliver's touch. "Existing is fun. I don't know, we could go see a movie? Or just hang around here and entertain each other..." He glances up and grins when he meets Oliver's eyes. "But we do that all the time already."
"Are you complaining?" Oliver asks. Nick shakes his head again, starts to say something when there's a knock at the door. He hops up to pay the pizza guy and carries the pizza into his little kitchenette, since the coffee table is too cluttered to put it there. There's not a whole lot of room for the two of them to move around each other, but before long they're situated on the couch with a couple of slices and a beer each, still talking about what to do tonight.
"I'm kind of in the mood for sci-fi," Nick says, and Oliver nods. "Is there anything out about aliens right now?"
"Yeah, there's one that looks pretty funny," Oliver says around a mouthful of pizza. He pauses to swallow. "You ever see Shaun of the Dead?"
"British zombies, yeah? Yeah."
"It's by those guys."
"Really? Let's go see that."
"Only if we're walking there. I'm not driving and I'm not letting you drive," Oliver says. Nick just gives him an unimpressed look.
"That's what taxis are for, Ollie." He stuffs a piece of crust into his mouth and goes back into his room. This time when he comes out and extends his hand, Oliver gets the pill he was expecting in the first place. He swallows it without hesitation, and Nick smiles. "We should probably find out when the movie starts."
"Yeah, that would be smart," Oliver agrees, and licks the grease off his fingers before he pulls out his cell phone. It only takes him a couple of minutes to get the information: "The next showing starts at 7:30."
"That's pretty good timing, you should be coming up right about then." Nick pulls out his own phone to call the cab company while Oliver demolishes the rest of his pizza. "All right, they'll be here in ten minutes."
"Are you planning on misbehaving while we're at the movies?" Oliver asks. Nick's eyes widen.
"Look, just because I got bored that one time doesn't mean I'm incapable of paying attention to a movie. You were just more interesting than unfunny comedy. And you weren't complaining at the time."
"Yeah, you're never going to hear me complaining when you've got your hand on my dick, actually." And honestly, letting Nick give him a hand job was a much better use of both their time than that movie had been. Still... "I actually want to see this one, so please refrain from groping me until we get back here."
"Fine, I'll keep my hands to myself." Nick gives Oliver a slightly sulky look, but laughs when Oliver blows him a kiss.
By the time the cab comes, they're waiting outside Nick's apartment, leaning against the front of the building, shoulder to shoulder. When they get in the cab, Oliver keeps looking down at his hands, wiggling his fingers a little. "Is it supposed to feel fuzzy?"
"Yeah, fuzzy sounds right. Where's your head at?" Nick looks at Oliver and smirks when he sees how dilated Oliver's eyes are, pupils eclipsing the blue.
"I'm right here," Oliver insists, reaching for Nick's hand. "I'm good. Really."
"I believe you." Nick squeezes Oliver's fingers, smirk melting into an actual smile. He has the feeling that it's going to be a good night.
Characters: Nick Roland and Oliver Bell
Rating: R
Word count: 1650
Prompt: itsproductivity April 7: Dinner and a drink. April 12: Write about a key.
The phone rings promptly at 5:01, just after Oliver locks up the costume shop for the night. He doesn't have to look at the screen to know who it is, he just answers it. "Hey."
"Come over, Ollie. I haven't seen you in weeks."
"You saw me five days ago, Nick, don't exaggerate."
"Five? No way. What day is today?"
"It's Friday."
"No shit? Why did I think it was Sunday?"
"I'm going to go way out on a limb here and say it's probably drugs."
"Fuck you, Oliver, I know it's the drugs, I just don't know which one. Usually I lose time in the other direction."
"Don't say it like you're proud of it," Oliver sighs. He's glad Nick can't see him rolling his eyes. Nick snorts.
"Okay, so I haven't seen you in like a week. Are you going to come here?"
"Yes, because if I don't, you're going to try to drive here, and contrary to your beliefs, you are not a better driver when you're high." Oliver's already prepared to go straight to Portland, the way he does almost every Friday, whether Nick calls him or not. He wonders if he can diagnose what exactly Nick is on just by talking to him-- time loss suggests opiates, the fact that Nick called for his company could be drugs or could just be part of the strange dance they've been doing since the night he'd threatened to leave unless Nick started being honest about his feelings. And weed and cigarettes are just a given when he's talking about Nick.
"Shut the fuck up, I am a spectacular driver." Oliver just laughs as he gets in his car. Nick huffs. "I've only been in like three accidents!"
"That's three more than I've been in. No, stay exactly where you are, I'll be there in half an hour."
"Sweet. Be careful, it's a nice day, the staties are probably out on the interstate."
"Fine, I'll be there in forty minutes. Since when do you encourage me to uphold the law? Who are you and what have you done with Nick Roland?"
"Yeah, I'm fucking appalled at myself. Don't worry, we'll do some law-breaking once you get here."
"Dare I ask what's on the menu this weekend?" One of the perks of dating a drug dealer is good drugs, but there are a few things that even Oliver's boundless curiosity isn't brave enough to risk, and Nick will suggest one of them from time to time.
"Something new for you. One of my favorites."
"Give me a hint."
"It's not illegal. Well, technically it's illegal if you're not the one being prescribed it, but it's used in hospitals all the time."
"Hey, I told you when this all started, no needles."
"No needles! Tablets. I fucking remember, all right? You have few enough hard limits that I'm not going to go forgetting the ones you do have."
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Oliver thinks back over the times Nick has waxed rhapsodic about drugs and picks out the one he means easily, since hospitals don't endorse candyflipping or smoking weed. "Morphine, right?"
"Bingo." There's a rattling sound; Oliver can just picture Nick shaking the amber pill bottle. "Good stuff. I think you're gonna like it."
"I liked it enough when they gave it to me when I broke my arm," Oliver says, "but I imagine the effect is a bit different when you take it recreationally." He's pleased that he correctly identified the effects of opiates on his boyfriend, at least.
"You'll find out soon enough. I'm gonna order a pizza, it should get here around the same time you do."
"Peppers and sausage. No olives this time!"
"Fuck you, olives are delicious. Fine, no olives, Oliver."
"Thank you. See you soon." Oliver tosses his cell phone onto the passenger seat and keeps an eye out for cops as he leaves Lewiston. It is a really nice day out, the roads are clear, and it's so tempting to speed, but Oliver keeps it to a moderate 68 miles per hour, not speeding fast enough to make him worth any statie's time. It's for the best: he passes three of them in the forty miles to Portland.
He parks next to Nick's beat-up green Civic and takes the stairs two at a time up to Nick's third-floor apartment. He knocks, startled when Nick immediately swings the door open.
"Hey, you made it before the pizza guy. Nice." Nick kisses Oliver quickly and then disappears into his bedroom, leaving Oliver in the doorway, slightly confused. He reappears quickly enough, one hand curled around something that he offers to Oliver. "Here," Nick says. Oliver holds out his hand, expecting a tiny pill; the key that drops onto his palm is a surprise, plain and silver, a small thing as shocking as a slap in the face.
"Nick?"
"What? You're here every weekend, now you have a key." Nick tries really hard to be nonchalant, but Oliver can read the tension around his blue eyes. Oliver pulls his keychain out of his pocket and slides Nick's key on next to his own house key, silver against dull brass, weirdly symbolic.
"Cool, now I don't have to wait for your lazy ass to get up and let me in," Oliver jokes, jingling the keys gently before tossing them on the messy coffee table. "Thanks, Nick." He reaches out and catches Nick's wrist, reeling him in for a kiss, lips lingering for a moment. Nick smiles at him, at ease now that Oliver isn't making a big deal out of it.
"So what do you want to do tonight? It's nice out, we could go to the woods or the beach or Sebago Lake or something."
"It's supposed to be nice tomorrow, too. If we're gonna go out into nature we should do it earlier in the day. Unless you want to go stargazing or something." Nick shakes his head and flops down onto the couch.
"Nah, let's do it tomorrow. Isn't there anything you want to do?"
"C'mon, Nick, you already know I'm up for anything." Oliver leans against the back of the couch and runs one hand over Nick's short ginger hair, smiling. "What's fun to do when you're on morphine?"
"Everything is fun on morphine," Nick says fervently, tilting his head back into Oliver's touch. "Existing is fun. I don't know, we could go see a movie? Or just hang around here and entertain each other..." He glances up and grins when he meets Oliver's eyes. "But we do that all the time already."
"Are you complaining?" Oliver asks. Nick shakes his head again, starts to say something when there's a knock at the door. He hops up to pay the pizza guy and carries the pizza into his little kitchenette, since the coffee table is too cluttered to put it there. There's not a whole lot of room for the two of them to move around each other, but before long they're situated on the couch with a couple of slices and a beer each, still talking about what to do tonight.
"I'm kind of in the mood for sci-fi," Nick says, and Oliver nods. "Is there anything out about aliens right now?"
"Yeah, there's one that looks pretty funny," Oliver says around a mouthful of pizza. He pauses to swallow. "You ever see Shaun of the Dead?"
"British zombies, yeah? Yeah."
"It's by those guys."
"Really? Let's go see that."
"Only if we're walking there. I'm not driving and I'm not letting you drive," Oliver says. Nick just gives him an unimpressed look.
"That's what taxis are for, Ollie." He stuffs a piece of crust into his mouth and goes back into his room. This time when he comes out and extends his hand, Oliver gets the pill he was expecting in the first place. He swallows it without hesitation, and Nick smiles. "We should probably find out when the movie starts."
"Yeah, that would be smart," Oliver agrees, and licks the grease off his fingers before he pulls out his cell phone. It only takes him a couple of minutes to get the information: "The next showing starts at 7:30."
"That's pretty good timing, you should be coming up right about then." Nick pulls out his own phone to call the cab company while Oliver demolishes the rest of his pizza. "All right, they'll be here in ten minutes."
"Are you planning on misbehaving while we're at the movies?" Oliver asks. Nick's eyes widen.
"Look, just because I got bored that one time doesn't mean I'm incapable of paying attention to a movie. You were just more interesting than unfunny comedy. And you weren't complaining at the time."
"Yeah, you're never going to hear me complaining when you've got your hand on my dick, actually." And honestly, letting Nick give him a hand job was a much better use of both their time than that movie had been. Still... "I actually want to see this one, so please refrain from groping me until we get back here."
"Fine, I'll keep my hands to myself." Nick gives Oliver a slightly sulky look, but laughs when Oliver blows him a kiss.
By the time the cab comes, they're waiting outside Nick's apartment, leaning against the front of the building, shoulder to shoulder. When they get in the cab, Oliver keeps looking down at his hands, wiggling his fingers a little. "Is it supposed to feel fuzzy?"
"Yeah, fuzzy sounds right. Where's your head at?" Nick looks at Oliver and smirks when he sees how dilated Oliver's eyes are, pupils eclipsing the blue.
"I'm right here," Oliver insists, reaching for Nick's hand. "I'm good. Really."
"I believe you." Nick squeezes Oliver's fingers, smirk melting into an actual smile. He has the feeling that it's going to be a good night.