Original -- Listing
Title: Listing
Rating: G
Word Count: 935
Warnings: a bizarre downward spiral
Prompt: Write a kiss (at least 100 words long) without using the word 'lips' at pulped_fictions
Summary: Things go wrong.
Author's Note: I really can't explain why I saw the prompt yesterday, thought "Hey, I'm feelin' Nick and Theo!", and then produced… this… thing. It's kind of personal in strange ways. I'm just going to stop thinking about it before I hurt myself. XD Eat your hearts out, slash fans…? (They're slashy in their original canon, you know. Or you probably don't, since virtually no one's read it.)
LISTING
It’s an accident.
Theo doesn’t even like “Halo.”
But he likes Nick’s too-cushy futon, and he likes the trash talk, and he loves the way the colors of the screen light up Nick’s face.
“Theo, my grandma has more kills than you.”
“Your grandmother has every gaming system ever developed.”
“She also has arthritis. And she’d still thrash you.”
“Pity I have a life beyond your pixelated fantasy world.”
He doesn’t, however, have a life in the pixelated fantasy world, because Nick just shanked him so thoroughly he can practically taste imaginary combat knife.
Nick laughs, and Theo feels like his heart has just as much cold steel through it as his computer-generated avatar does. The timer runs down, and Nick tosses his controller onto the floor, grinning as the scores come up, shadows playing across his skin. His eyelashes dip as he smirks, and Theo’s stomach does a backflip that would make his Halo dude camouflage-green with jealousy.
And it’s an accident. He just looks at Nick’s mouth for a few too-short, irrevocable moments-just long enough to wonder and not quite long enough to hope. Nick has this grin that starts on the left side, all soft-looking pink and gleaming ivory before it opens up across his whole face. Asymmetry usually makes Theo twitch, but on Nick, it makes his skin tighten all over.
The grin sweeps wide, and Theo gulps and stares deliberately at the television screen.
Nick elbows him, and the blood rises in his cheeks. He is going to die. It will be a relief.
“There’s something on my bucket list you should probably know about,” Nick says.
Theo manages a faint, vaguely interested noise. It sort of sounds like a small mammal being strangled, which he supposes isn’t that far from the truth.
Nick elbows him again, harder, but he doesn’t dare to look. “Someday we have to get drunk and make out.”
Theo hears a distant roaring. He thinks it’s the landslide collapse of his sanity. “You’re drunk all the time. You get drunk on your own saliva.”
Over the rush of blood in his ears, he can hear Nick grinning the asymmetrical grin, because it colors every word with a bit of maniacal joy.
“Close enough for me,” he says, and a thumb with a faint impression of the joystick glides across Theo’s cheek; fingertips at his jaw gently turn his face, and he can’t avoid meeting Nick’s eyes anymore. “Kiss me, you handsome rogue.”
“No way,” Theo’s voice says.
“Way,” Nick replies in his finest surfer impression.
Theo tries to draw back, but he’s not fast enough, and the kiss tastes like garlic pizza and chili and Dr. Pepper-which should, by all rights, trigger Theo’s gag reflex, only it doesn’t. And it’s… drier than he expected, and kind of soft, and he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to hold his breath, especially given his personal tendency towards hyperventilation, and he’s gripping his game controller so tightly either he or it is going to break in a minute.
Oh, God, is this going to go on for a whole minute?
Nick’s mouth is warm and wetter by the second, and Theo is trying to remember all of those advice articles that he definitely did not read at three in the morning when he was miles from his right mind, when his whole chest felt hollow at the magnitude of the things he couldn’t have. Nick’s breath ghosts across his cheek, and Nick’s fingers are curling in his collar, and Nick smells like familiar boy and unfamiliar sweat and pizza and laundry detergent, and Nick is everywhere at once, concentrated in the shifting contours of that sideways-grinning mouth. It’s weird. It’s damp. It’s no explosion of fairy-tale romance, no tongue hockey, and definitely no revelation, but it does funny, crazy, lurching things to Theo’s stomach and worse things to his heart. It’s undeniable.
It’s ending.
Theo sees Nick, Nick’s crappy futon, Nick’s bedroom through crescent-moon slivers as he starts to open his eyes. Nick’s eyelashes rise, and that same stupid grin is terrifyingly alive, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in it.
Nick is far, far too close. One hand is still tangled in Theo’s collar, and the other is on his knee. Theo stares at the knee hand, because Nick’s grin has blinded him one too many times.
It’s silent for a long moment, and Theo realizes he’s shaking.
“Y-” Nick’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, and it takes Theo a moment to distinguish the trembling of Nick’s hand from the trembling of his own knee, but they are definitely two independent events. “You know what else is on my bucket list?”
Theo convinces at least a few of his neck muscles to move his head in a vaguely negative way.
Nick’s unsteady hands release him and fumble for the controller on the floor. “Losing to you at ‘Halo,’ so we’d better get to work.”
That’s when Theo starts to cry.
Nick pries his hands off of the controller he’s been death-gripping all this time and takes them instead, cradling Theo’s fingers in a way that’s more comforting than someone like Nick should understand. Gently he guides Theo’s head down onto his shoulder, and his free hand brushes very softly up and down Theo’s back.
“You know what else is on my bucket list?” he says again.
Theo’s eyes leak onto Nick’s shirt a little more. He puts a fraction of his voice behind a “No.”
“Buckets,” Nick says, and Theo learns just how grotesquely sobs and laughter mix.
Rating: G
Word Count: 935
Warnings: a bizarre downward spiral
Prompt: Write a kiss (at least 100 words long) without using the word 'lips' at pulped_fictions
Summary: Things go wrong.
Author's Note: I really can't explain why I saw the prompt yesterday, thought "Hey, I'm feelin' Nick and Theo!", and then produced… this… thing. It's kind of personal in strange ways. I'm just going to stop thinking about it before I hurt myself. XD Eat your hearts out, slash fans…? (They're slashy in their original canon, you know. Or you probably don't, since virtually no one's read it.)
LISTING
It’s an accident.
Theo doesn’t even like “Halo.”
But he likes Nick’s too-cushy futon, and he likes the trash talk, and he loves the way the colors of the screen light up Nick’s face.
“Theo, my grandma has more kills than you.”
“Your grandmother has every gaming system ever developed.”
“She also has arthritis. And she’d still thrash you.”
“Pity I have a life beyond your pixelated fantasy world.”
He doesn’t, however, have a life in the pixelated fantasy world, because Nick just shanked him so thoroughly he can practically taste imaginary combat knife.
Nick laughs, and Theo feels like his heart has just as much cold steel through it as his computer-generated avatar does. The timer runs down, and Nick tosses his controller onto the floor, grinning as the scores come up, shadows playing across his skin. His eyelashes dip as he smirks, and Theo’s stomach does a backflip that would make his Halo dude camouflage-green with jealousy.
And it’s an accident. He just looks at Nick’s mouth for a few too-short, irrevocable moments-just long enough to wonder and not quite long enough to hope. Nick has this grin that starts on the left side, all soft-looking pink and gleaming ivory before it opens up across his whole face. Asymmetry usually makes Theo twitch, but on Nick, it makes his skin tighten all over.
The grin sweeps wide, and Theo gulps and stares deliberately at the television screen.
Nick elbows him, and the blood rises in his cheeks. He is going to die. It will be a relief.
“There’s something on my bucket list you should probably know about,” Nick says.
Theo manages a faint, vaguely interested noise. It sort of sounds like a small mammal being strangled, which he supposes isn’t that far from the truth.
Nick elbows him again, harder, but he doesn’t dare to look. “Someday we have to get drunk and make out.”
Theo hears a distant roaring. He thinks it’s the landslide collapse of his sanity. “You’re drunk all the time. You get drunk on your own saliva.”
Over the rush of blood in his ears, he can hear Nick grinning the asymmetrical grin, because it colors every word with a bit of maniacal joy.
“Close enough for me,” he says, and a thumb with a faint impression of the joystick glides across Theo’s cheek; fingertips at his jaw gently turn his face, and he can’t avoid meeting Nick’s eyes anymore. “Kiss me, you handsome rogue.”
“No way,” Theo’s voice says.
“Way,” Nick replies in his finest surfer impression.
Theo tries to draw back, but he’s not fast enough, and the kiss tastes like garlic pizza and chili and Dr. Pepper-which should, by all rights, trigger Theo’s gag reflex, only it doesn’t. And it’s… drier than he expected, and kind of soft, and he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to hold his breath, especially given his personal tendency towards hyperventilation, and he’s gripping his game controller so tightly either he or it is going to break in a minute.
Oh, God, is this going to go on for a whole minute?
Nick’s mouth is warm and wetter by the second, and Theo is trying to remember all of those advice articles that he definitely did not read at three in the morning when he was miles from his right mind, when his whole chest felt hollow at the magnitude of the things he couldn’t have. Nick’s breath ghosts across his cheek, and Nick’s fingers are curling in his collar, and Nick smells like familiar boy and unfamiliar sweat and pizza and laundry detergent, and Nick is everywhere at once, concentrated in the shifting contours of that sideways-grinning mouth. It’s weird. It’s damp. It’s no explosion of fairy-tale romance, no tongue hockey, and definitely no revelation, but it does funny, crazy, lurching things to Theo’s stomach and worse things to his heart. It’s undeniable.
It’s ending.
Theo sees Nick, Nick’s crappy futon, Nick’s bedroom through crescent-moon slivers as he starts to open his eyes. Nick’s eyelashes rise, and that same stupid grin is terrifyingly alive, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in it.
Nick is far, far too close. One hand is still tangled in Theo’s collar, and the other is on his knee. Theo stares at the knee hand, because Nick’s grin has blinded him one too many times.
It’s silent for a long moment, and Theo realizes he’s shaking.
“Y-” Nick’s voice cracks. He clears his throat, and it takes Theo a moment to distinguish the trembling of Nick’s hand from the trembling of his own knee, but they are definitely two independent events. “You know what else is on my bucket list?”
Theo convinces at least a few of his neck muscles to move his head in a vaguely negative way.
Nick’s unsteady hands release him and fumble for the controller on the floor. “Losing to you at ‘Halo,’ so we’d better get to work.”
That’s when Theo starts to cry.
Nick pries his hands off of the controller he’s been death-gripping all this time and takes them instead, cradling Theo’s fingers in a way that’s more comforting than someone like Nick should understand. Gently he guides Theo’s head down onto his shoulder, and his free hand brushes very softly up and down Theo’s back.
“You know what else is on my bucket list?” he says again.
Theo’s eyes leak onto Nick’s shirt a little more. He puts a fraction of his voice behind a “No.”
“Buckets,” Nick says, and Theo learns just how grotesquely sobs and laughter mix.