misfits fic: 'birthday boy'
At A03
21's been a pretty shit birthday, his mum's gifts aside.
His brother's dead. He just got used to the idea he had a brother, for fuck's sake, and now he's gone.
His dad's forgotten the date, naturally. He mentioned at breakfast taking a trip to 'get his head around it all'. Nathan's far past the hopeful stage, the thinking maybe he'll take him, maybe it'll be a father-son bonding experience, the kind you have with dads who aren't complete wankers.
To be honest, he's far past the hoping for a stick of rock/souvenir stage.
But apparently in twenty one years he's learnt approximately fuck all, because he did think his dad might at least tell him before he fucked off again.
Instead, he's homeless, and doing this stupid community service with a bunch of wankers who barely appreciate his hilarious wit and charm.
And instead of a blowjob, he's gotten a broken neck. He feels around on the floor. Fuck, Kelly's even taken the chocolate back! That girl! Nathan's got...well, not a soft spot, more of a hard, throbbing rod, ready and waiting for her, but this really takes the piss.
Now he's missed half the day, all the drinks and sweets he could have begged off the others, and they've all fucked off, leaving him to spend his night in the fucking community centre. Bastards!
Although not all of them. Barry creeps across his vision swiftly, scuttling like a spider in the locker room. Probably grabbing his kiddie porn, or hiding more bodies.
Nathan clicks his fingers, not bothering to get up. The noise isn't loud enough to carry, but the motion attracts Barry's eye line, and he ventures over.
'Where are those other shitheads?'
'They've gone home, it's half five.'
'Pricks! Didn't even buy me a birthday drink.'
'It's your birthday?'
'Nah, just wearing this badge for the fashion aesthetic.'
Barry looks at it. 'And the slippers?' He asks, smirking slightly.
'Pretty good haul, right? Throw in dying and it's the best birthday ever!'
Barry looks awkward. Well, for him. After a second he offers: 'Shakespeare died on his birthday'.
'Really?!' Nathan asks with mock enthusiasm. 'Fascinating! Any more useless trivia?'
Barry checks his phone. Nathan honestly can't tell if he's this autistically literal or taking the piss. 'You're a Pisces.'
'For fuck's sake! Don't tell me you believe that astronomy bollocks.'
'It's astrology. Astronomy is the study of objects and phenomena outside the earth's atmosphere.'
'Thanks, Stephen Hawking'. Nathan sits in the abandoned wheelchair, wheeling around and idly trying out robot voices. 'So what are Pisces then? Big cocks, destined to make millions?'
Barry taps at his phone again. 'Charming and funny.' He looks up and raises an eyebrow.
Nathan rolls his eyes. The cheek. 'Obviously!'
'But also manipulative and self-destructive. Hmm. You did just break your own neck, maybe there is something in it.'
'And what's yours? The Dead-Eyed Shark? The Lonely Masturbator?'
'Scorpio.' He fiddles with the phone. 'Determined, intuitive and...intense.' He pauses, waiting for the inevitable.
Nathan cackles. 'You, Barry? Never! You're a little ray of sunshine. So...where's my gift? I'll accept vouchers, but I'd really rather cash, the pros don't like it when you try to scan your card between their tits.'
Barry rolls his eyes. 'What about something from the machine?'
Deja vu! 'Get us...a can, some quavers. A Twix. Cheese and onion Walkers. Fruitellas.'
Barry holds up a finger to stop him before he just lists the product menu, which he flatters himself he probably could by now.
'I've only got two quid. And Fruitellas are out.'
'Of course! You probably snaffled them all when I was out, we all know how much you love getting your five a day.' Nathan idly mimes fucking a melon, but he can't be bothered to get too into it until the food's in his hands.
Once Barry chucks a can of Fanta and a Twix at him, he crows happily, barely unwrapping the chocolate before shoving it in his gob; leaning backwards in the wheelchair, trying to see if he can dip it to the floor and back, like a spastic he saw on the tv once.
Those specials are clearly stronger than they look, though, or maybe it's the eating while doing it, but all he's succeeded in so far is a choking fit.
Simon, sitting sedately in a wheelchair of his own, like an old granny, gives him a sideway glance. 'No, you're definitely not self-destructive. Are you trying to die twice in one day?'
'Don't remind me, I can't even take a fucking e now! Unless Super Stalker feels like playing nanny.'
'I can't believe you were only mortal for a few minutes, and you still nearly got killed.' Simon says in this affectionate way, like they're actually mates or something.
Nathan's Twix related good vibes fade as suddenly as they arrived. 'Yeah, well, someone else did.' He says, shortly.
Simon looks like he could bite his tongue out, shuts his eyes briefly, sighing; although to be honest, he embarrasses himself with such frequency that Nathan's pretty sure this is only about fifty percent of his potential shame expression.
'I'm sorry about Jamie. Kelly told me. He was...nice', Simon finishes lamely.
'Died getting laid, right? That's living the dream. Better than dying a virgin, but I guess you'll be the expert on that one.'
Simon lets that one slide, changing the topic. Probably for the best. If they talk about Jamie, he's liable to lose it, and the only thing more pathetic than spending his birthday with odd kid is spending it on his own.
'I thought you were building my confidence?'
'Here’s a tip, then: Next time don't spend all night in the men's. Or do, you know, whatever floats your boat. There's a place down the estate with a glory hole, as long as you don't mind who's sucking it, even you'll be guaranteed there!'
'Hey, you can practice on me', he continues with inspiration, grabbing at his crotch and leering. 'A birthday blowjob would definitely help me deal with my...emotional shit. I won't lie, you aren't my first choice, but Kelly was totally frigid.'
Simon looks torn between disgust and curiosity, settling on the latter. 'You asked her for a "birthday blowjob"?'
'Yeah, dunno what her problem is, probably that time of the month, but it's not like it comes out their mouths!'
'I...don't think you should have said that.'
'Hey, in the club she was all over me, telling me how much she “fookin' loves me”'.
'If you really like her, you wouldn't take the piss.'
'Oh, I really need to take lessons from you on women. She's over the age of eight, bit outside your wheelhouse.'
'If she loves you, you shouldn't mess her around,' Simon insists, mulishly.
'Aw, do you love her? Good luck! She's only been with four blokes, even I've been with more than that, and I basically just fuck women. I doubt she's holding out to make you the big five.' Nathan sneers.
'I don't see how you'd get anyone at all, the way you treat them', Barry mutters.
'Hey, I can be nice. Sometimes. Especially with you two ice cubes around. Jesus, I think Alisha's still getting more, and she can't even touch anyone.'
Barry opens his mouth, but Nathan rushes on, aware that wasn't technically within the definition of 'nice''. He's on a mission to prove Barry wrong now.
And if it involves getting sucked off on his damn birthday, well, that's just a happy bonus. Let no one imply Nathan Young is not a considerate lover.
'C'mon Barry,' he croons, dropping his voice. 'I thought we were friends! You wanted my help getting laid, well, here it is, on a plate.'
He gestures down his body, kicking off the slippers quickly, as they don't really say ‘sophisticated sex tutor’.
'I know your first time's a big deal, but you've gotta pop your cherry sometime. Don't you want it to be with a close friend, someone who's gentle and...respectful?'
He's reminded of their conversation earlier.
When he pictured a sister, he must admit she was pretty much a female Barry, disturbing as that sounds. But the big eyes, shy virgin, liable to boil your bunny if you don't compliment dinner thing...well, it's not not sexy. He’s not saying he’d make it a regular thing or anything, but with a lack of other options, he's a little surprised to find he's actually up for it; not just taking the piss to irritate Barry, although that's always hilarious.
Barry's a psycho, he's probably into some nasty shit. Would probably let him get away with anything. Nathan's so busy thinking about the possibilities, it takes him a second to realize Barry's leaving.
'Good night, Nathan', he says, picking up his laptop bag. He doesn't even look annoyed, just...disappointed? Sad?
Nathan's not sure why. Even if he had been mocking the idea, it's not like he's known for his flawless personality. Barry's the one who wanted to be mates despite all that.
But better him than nobody, alone in this fucking community centre, the locker room still stinking of burnt cheese from sandwiches he made his brother, and the reek of burning petrol and metal still in his nostrils, on his jacket.
'Wait!'
Nathan's mum always said you have to give to get, although even as a only child, sharing was never his strong point. And on his birthday, it seems a rip-off to be the one giving it up. But he catches Barry by the wrist, still in the chair, and pulls him closer, massaging his cock through his jeans, before sliding down his zip in a surprisingly smooth movement.
But then, if there's one sex act Nathan is fucking expert in, it's wanking. He prides himself on it, and although Barry's probably done more of it, being a shut in, it's clearly working, as he hardens quickly in Nathan's hand.
He keeps up the pace, not so fast he spooks Barry like the scared rabbit he sometimes resembles; but not so slow that Barry can go all 'no homo' crazed moraliser either.
It's a goddamn orchestration of masturbation to get right, but Nathan flatters himself that it's working: Barry's looking to the side, red-faced, teeth gritted, but he's not leaving, and his hand is making spasmodic motions, awkwardly stroking Nathan's hair.
'Why are you being nice to me?' He mutters.
Nathan feels a bit of a weirdo himself at this point. Fucking's normally a way to turn off the world, lose yourself in skin and sensation. Maybe it's Jamie, or pissing off Kelly again earlier, or maybe it's how petrified Barry clearly is, but he can't spin his usual bullshit line of promises, or something spiteful about how clearly bent Barry is for him.
Instead he just shrugs helplessly, throws out a stupid comment, his default reaction. 'Maybe it's the e. You said it made everyone wanted to fuck you.' He offers.
Barry looks stung. But then, every time he's had a snog or a blowie off a girl, it's been some kind of trick.
Understandable, really, Nathan can't imagine the ladies go wild for the whole intense and creepy vibe; but it probably doesn't make for a very trusting shag partner.
'Or maybe it's me,' he breathes, an apology of sorts, as he slides a foot up Barry's leg, wraps his legs around Barry's waist and pulls him forward until he's in Nathan's lap.
'I'm just all...horny and slutty'.
'I knew it', Barry says, barely audible, shutting his eyes briefly. He suddenly pushes Nathan away, so hard the chair falls over backwards.
'Hey!' Nathan squeaks. Not very macho, but really, what the fuck?! Barry's straight backed, storming off like a triggered sleeper agent.
'I thought we were gonna shag!'
Barry's already at the door, scowling and clutching his jacket like a shield.
'Well thanks a bunch, pal! You know, next time instead of blue balls, you can just stick with a card, you frigging cock tease!'
But Barry's gone, and with him any hopes of Nathan getting laid.
Happy fucking birthday.
21's been a pretty shit birthday, his mum's gifts aside.
His brother's dead. He just got used to the idea he had a brother, for fuck's sake, and now he's gone.
His dad's forgotten the date, naturally. He mentioned at breakfast taking a trip to 'get his head around it all'. Nathan's far past the hopeful stage, the thinking maybe he'll take him, maybe it'll be a father-son bonding experience, the kind you have with dads who aren't complete wankers.
To be honest, he's far past the hoping for a stick of rock/souvenir stage.
But apparently in twenty one years he's learnt approximately fuck all, because he did think his dad might at least tell him before he fucked off again.
Instead, he's homeless, and doing this stupid community service with a bunch of wankers who barely appreciate his hilarious wit and charm.
And instead of a blowjob, he's gotten a broken neck. He feels around on the floor. Fuck, Kelly's even taken the chocolate back! That girl! Nathan's got...well, not a soft spot, more of a hard, throbbing rod, ready and waiting for her, but this really takes the piss.
Now he's missed half the day, all the drinks and sweets he could have begged off the others, and they've all fucked off, leaving him to spend his night in the fucking community centre. Bastards!
Although not all of them. Barry creeps across his vision swiftly, scuttling like a spider in the locker room. Probably grabbing his kiddie porn, or hiding more bodies.
Nathan clicks his fingers, not bothering to get up. The noise isn't loud enough to carry, but the motion attracts Barry's eye line, and he ventures over.
'Where are those other shitheads?'
'They've gone home, it's half five.'
'Pricks! Didn't even buy me a birthday drink.'
'It's your birthday?'
'Nah, just wearing this badge for the fashion aesthetic.'
Barry looks at it. 'And the slippers?' He asks, smirking slightly.
'Pretty good haul, right? Throw in dying and it's the best birthday ever!'
Barry looks awkward. Well, for him. After a second he offers: 'Shakespeare died on his birthday'.
'Really?!' Nathan asks with mock enthusiasm. 'Fascinating! Any more useless trivia?'
Barry checks his phone. Nathan honestly can't tell if he's this autistically literal or taking the piss. 'You're a Pisces.'
'For fuck's sake! Don't tell me you believe that astronomy bollocks.'
'It's astrology. Astronomy is the study of objects and phenomena outside the earth's atmosphere.'
'Thanks, Stephen Hawking'. Nathan sits in the abandoned wheelchair, wheeling around and idly trying out robot voices. 'So what are Pisces then? Big cocks, destined to make millions?'
Barry taps at his phone again. 'Charming and funny.' He looks up and raises an eyebrow.
Nathan rolls his eyes. The cheek. 'Obviously!'
'But also manipulative and self-destructive. Hmm. You did just break your own neck, maybe there is something in it.'
'And what's yours? The Dead-Eyed Shark? The Lonely Masturbator?'
'Scorpio.' He fiddles with the phone. 'Determined, intuitive and...intense.' He pauses, waiting for the inevitable.
Nathan cackles. 'You, Barry? Never! You're a little ray of sunshine. So...where's my gift? I'll accept vouchers, but I'd really rather cash, the pros don't like it when you try to scan your card between their tits.'
Barry rolls his eyes. 'What about something from the machine?'
Deja vu! 'Get us...a can, some quavers. A Twix. Cheese and onion Walkers. Fruitellas.'
Barry holds up a finger to stop him before he just lists the product menu, which he flatters himself he probably could by now.
'I've only got two quid. And Fruitellas are out.'
'Of course! You probably snaffled them all when I was out, we all know how much you love getting your five a day.' Nathan idly mimes fucking a melon, but he can't be bothered to get too into it until the food's in his hands.
Once Barry chucks a can of Fanta and a Twix at him, he crows happily, barely unwrapping the chocolate before shoving it in his gob; leaning backwards in the wheelchair, trying to see if he can dip it to the floor and back, like a spastic he saw on the tv once.
Those specials are clearly stronger than they look, though, or maybe it's the eating while doing it, but all he's succeeded in so far is a choking fit.
Simon, sitting sedately in a wheelchair of his own, like an old granny, gives him a sideway glance. 'No, you're definitely not self-destructive. Are you trying to die twice in one day?'
'Don't remind me, I can't even take a fucking e now! Unless Super Stalker feels like playing nanny.'
'I can't believe you were only mortal for a few minutes, and you still nearly got killed.' Simon says in this affectionate way, like they're actually mates or something.
Nathan's Twix related good vibes fade as suddenly as they arrived. 'Yeah, well, someone else did.' He says, shortly.
Simon looks like he could bite his tongue out, shuts his eyes briefly, sighing; although to be honest, he embarrasses himself with such frequency that Nathan's pretty sure this is only about fifty percent of his potential shame expression.
'I'm sorry about Jamie. Kelly told me. He was...nice', Simon finishes lamely.
'Died getting laid, right? That's living the dream. Better than dying a virgin, but I guess you'll be the expert on that one.'
Simon lets that one slide, changing the topic. Probably for the best. If they talk about Jamie, he's liable to lose it, and the only thing more pathetic than spending his birthday with odd kid is spending it on his own.
'I thought you were building my confidence?'
'Here’s a tip, then: Next time don't spend all night in the men's. Or do, you know, whatever floats your boat. There's a place down the estate with a glory hole, as long as you don't mind who's sucking it, even you'll be guaranteed there!'
'Hey, you can practice on me', he continues with inspiration, grabbing at his crotch and leering. 'A birthday blowjob would definitely help me deal with my...emotional shit. I won't lie, you aren't my first choice, but Kelly was totally frigid.'
Simon looks torn between disgust and curiosity, settling on the latter. 'You asked her for a "birthday blowjob"?'
'Yeah, dunno what her problem is, probably that time of the month, but it's not like it comes out their mouths!'
'I...don't think you should have said that.'
'Hey, in the club she was all over me, telling me how much she “fookin' loves me”'.
'If you really like her, you wouldn't take the piss.'
'Oh, I really need to take lessons from you on women. She's over the age of eight, bit outside your wheelhouse.'
'If she loves you, you shouldn't mess her around,' Simon insists, mulishly.
'Aw, do you love her? Good luck! She's only been with four blokes, even I've been with more than that, and I basically just fuck women. I doubt she's holding out to make you the big five.' Nathan sneers.
'I don't see how you'd get anyone at all, the way you treat them', Barry mutters.
'Hey, I can be nice. Sometimes. Especially with you two ice cubes around. Jesus, I think Alisha's still getting more, and she can't even touch anyone.'
Barry opens his mouth, but Nathan rushes on, aware that wasn't technically within the definition of 'nice''. He's on a mission to prove Barry wrong now.
And if it involves getting sucked off on his damn birthday, well, that's just a happy bonus. Let no one imply Nathan Young is not a considerate lover.
'C'mon Barry,' he croons, dropping his voice. 'I thought we were friends! You wanted my help getting laid, well, here it is, on a plate.'
He gestures down his body, kicking off the slippers quickly, as they don't really say ‘sophisticated sex tutor’.
'I know your first time's a big deal, but you've gotta pop your cherry sometime. Don't you want it to be with a close friend, someone who's gentle and...respectful?'
He's reminded of their conversation earlier.
When he pictured a sister, he must admit she was pretty much a female Barry, disturbing as that sounds. But the big eyes, shy virgin, liable to boil your bunny if you don't compliment dinner thing...well, it's not not sexy. He’s not saying he’d make it a regular thing or anything, but with a lack of other options, he's a little surprised to find he's actually up for it; not just taking the piss to irritate Barry, although that's always hilarious.
Barry's a psycho, he's probably into some nasty shit. Would probably let him get away with anything. Nathan's so busy thinking about the possibilities, it takes him a second to realize Barry's leaving.
'Good night, Nathan', he says, picking up his laptop bag. He doesn't even look annoyed, just...disappointed? Sad?
Nathan's not sure why. Even if he had been mocking the idea, it's not like he's known for his flawless personality. Barry's the one who wanted to be mates despite all that.
But better him than nobody, alone in this fucking community centre, the locker room still stinking of burnt cheese from sandwiches he made his brother, and the reek of burning petrol and metal still in his nostrils, on his jacket.
'Wait!'
Nathan's mum always said you have to give to get, although even as a only child, sharing was never his strong point. And on his birthday, it seems a rip-off to be the one giving it up. But he catches Barry by the wrist, still in the chair, and pulls him closer, massaging his cock through his jeans, before sliding down his zip in a surprisingly smooth movement.
But then, if there's one sex act Nathan is fucking expert in, it's wanking. He prides himself on it, and although Barry's probably done more of it, being a shut in, it's clearly working, as he hardens quickly in Nathan's hand.
He keeps up the pace, not so fast he spooks Barry like the scared rabbit he sometimes resembles; but not so slow that Barry can go all 'no homo' crazed moraliser either.
It's a goddamn orchestration of masturbation to get right, but Nathan flatters himself that it's working: Barry's looking to the side, red-faced, teeth gritted, but he's not leaving, and his hand is making spasmodic motions, awkwardly stroking Nathan's hair.
'Why are you being nice to me?' He mutters.
Nathan feels a bit of a weirdo himself at this point. Fucking's normally a way to turn off the world, lose yourself in skin and sensation. Maybe it's Jamie, or pissing off Kelly again earlier, or maybe it's how petrified Barry clearly is, but he can't spin his usual bullshit line of promises, or something spiteful about how clearly bent Barry is for him.
Instead he just shrugs helplessly, throws out a stupid comment, his default reaction. 'Maybe it's the e. You said it made everyone wanted to fuck you.' He offers.
Barry looks stung. But then, every time he's had a snog or a blowie off a girl, it's been some kind of trick.
Understandable, really, Nathan can't imagine the ladies go wild for the whole intense and creepy vibe; but it probably doesn't make for a very trusting shag partner.
'Or maybe it's me,' he breathes, an apology of sorts, as he slides a foot up Barry's leg, wraps his legs around Barry's waist and pulls him forward until he's in Nathan's lap.
'I'm just all...horny and slutty'.
'I knew it', Barry says, barely audible, shutting his eyes briefly. He suddenly pushes Nathan away, so hard the chair falls over backwards.
'Hey!' Nathan squeaks. Not very macho, but really, what the fuck?! Barry's straight backed, storming off like a triggered sleeper agent.
'I thought we were gonna shag!'
Barry's already at the door, scowling and clutching his jacket like a shield.
'Well thanks a bunch, pal! You know, next time instead of blue balls, you can just stick with a card, you frigging cock tease!'
But Barry's gone, and with him any hopes of Nathan getting laid.
Happy fucking birthday.