Riptide Fic No Fear
Title: No Fear
Fandom: Riptide
Genre: Slash, NC-17, First Time
Characters: Nick Ryder/Cody Allen
Word Count: 2575
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Disclaimer: They're not mine. No money being made. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Part of the Horizons series. First main story.
Summary: Nick faces fears from his past - what are the implications for the future?
No Fear
I leant on the hood of the rental, in the outdoor parking lot of the suburban Chicago rest home. My best friend, Nick Ryder, was inside at his dying father's bedside.
He'd got the phone call several days ago, the first I knew of it his raised voice declaring unequivocally "I don't have a father!" followed by the sound of the phone smashing against the opposite wall.
I didn't ask - I knew better. Nick would bring it to me when he was ready, or when he couldn't hold it inside any longer - whichever happened sooner.
That night, I woke to him calling my name from the opposite bunk. "What's up?" I muttered, shaking sleep from my brain and sitting up. As Nick spoke again, I realized he was dreaming.
"Cody, we're going down!" he said hoarsely, and in one step I was at his side.
"Nick," I said, "Nick you're dreaming" and placed both hands on his arm, squeezing lightly. "Nick, wake up!"
His blue eyes snapped open, locked on mine, then he choked and sat up fast. "Cody," he whispered, and I slid my grip from his arm to his shoulders. He was trembling and I pulled him against me into a hug.
Nick put both arms around me, choked again and broke down. "Easy," I told him gently, speaking into his ear. "I've got you, pal."
I go back there often, unfortunately - most nights, seems like, I wake at least once to a picture from Vietnam dissipating into the Riptide's familiar cabin - but my dreams are usually fleeting images, momentarily awful but easy - easier anyway - to ignore. Nick doesn't dream so much, but when he does they rip him to pieces. It wasn't the first time I'd held him in the dark, and it wont be the last.
I rubbed his back slowly, feeling the tension start to leave his shoulders. He removed an arm from around me and wiped his eyes. "Thanks," he whispered.
"Anytime." I didn't let him go yet, just kept rubbing his back, and he didn't try to pull away either.
"Lucky you woke me up." Nick's voice was still a little unsteady. "No way either of us would've lived if that Huey had hit the deck."
"Didn't happen," I told him softly. "Every time, you got us down. No matter how bad we were hit."
Nick was silent and I waited for him to pull away. Instead he said "Did you hear what I said on the phone today?"
"Yeah," I said quietly.
"It was a hospital in Chicago. My father is there." His breath caught and I knew he was still close to tears. I tightened my arms around him, and he continued. "He wants to see me."
"That's gotta hurt," I prompted him. I knew Nick's father had walked out when Nick was 12. And I was pretty sure he hadn't done much except knock him around before that.
Nick nodded, against my shoulder. "It does, man," he muttered. "It really does. I've managed to live my life without his assistance. Why the hell cant he die without mine?"
"Something like that on your mind, no wonder you dreamed."
"I know." He was still in my arms, his head on my shoulder, his chest warm against mine, and as he relaxed I felt my body start to react to his closeness.
"Let's get up and get some coffee," I suggested.
"Okay," he agreed, and I reluctantly sat back, letting him go. At least it gave me a chance to get my jeans on.
Upstairs, I made us coffee by the muted glow of the pier lights through the windows. When he's been dreaming, Nick doesn't like light, and he doesn't like me more than 3 feet away from him. Which is just fine by me - my body against Nick's, in the dark, is one of the dreams I don't mind having.
I put our coffee on the table and slid into the corner of the bench seat. Nick followed, leaning back against me and stretching his legs out along the seat. I slung an arm over his shoulder and he grasped my hand, holding it against his chest. I felt his remaining tension in his fingers, tightening then relaxing on mine.
"Take it easy," I told him quietly. "Have some coffee. Relax a little."
"Easy to say." He moved his head from side to side on my shoulder, then did pick up his coffee in the hand that wasn't holding mine. "I'll have to go to Chicago. If I don't, well, he'll be dead, I cant change my mind."
"Mmmm," I encouraged him softly.
"Basically, it's already screwed me up." His openness surprised me. Midnight Nick, rattled Nick, is less touchy and more receptive than my daytime partner. Even so, he's more likely to put his fist through a wall than analyze his feelings.
"What do you mean?" I prompted, when he didn't continue.
He chuckled softly. "I already smashed the phone. Now I'm dreaming. Tomorrow - I'll prob'ly fight with you or yell at Murray. Crash the 'Vette. I don't know - but if I don't do something, if I just pretend it didn't happen, it's gonna tear me up just like those dreams do."
I squeezed his hand. "Well, yeah."
He squeezed back, and we drank our coffee in silence.
We were back in bed and I was drifting off to sleep when his voice summoned me back. "What?" I asked sleepily, aware he'd spoken but not sure of what he'd said.
"Cody... can I ask a huge favor?"
"Sure" I murmured. "As long as it doesn't involve the Mimi."
I heard the grin in his voice. "No Mimi. Seriously though," he hesitated, then asked in a rush, "Come with me to Chicago? I just - I'm shit-scared, Cody."
For the second time that night I left my bed to sit on his, gripping his shoulder in the darkness. He grabbed my leg and squeezed, and I covered his hand with my own. "I'll come," I assured him. "We've faced worse together, pal."
Nick let his breath go in a long sigh. "We have." His hand relaxed on my leg, patted once and withdrew, and with a last squeeze I released his shoulder and stood up. "Night, Cody," he murmured as I slid back into bed.
"Night, buddy."
So 3 days later here we were in Chicago. We'd flown over early in the morning and picked up a rental car - the whole journey in virtual silence. Nick was deep inside himself, in a way I'd seen before - the way he used to be when he was psyching himself up for a mission. I knew him well enough to let him be.
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Nick came out of the rest-home, saw me leaning on the car and hurried over. "Have you been here the whole time? I've been hours!"
"I checked us into a motel. Got a coffee and stuff." I grinned at him. "I'm great." I wasn't telling him there was no way I was shifting when he might need me. "How'd it go?"
"Good and bad." He frowned at the car, then me. "Gimme the keys. I want to go for a drive and I know my way around better than you."
He drove us out of the middle class suburb we were in, finally stopping outside a nearly-deserted strip mall. Four of the shops were empty, the windows boarded up. Graffiti covered the buildings, including the laundromat and takeaway which were still open for business. Nick got out of the car and I followed him, looking around me at the roughness of the neighborhood.
Nick pointed over the road, at a run-down apartment building with condemned signs posted at intervals along its facade. "That's where I grew up." I looked at him, uncertain what he wanted from me, and to be honest, nervous of having my own privileged childhood flung at me like an accusation. He stuck his hands in his pockets, turned and started walking away.
"Nick..."
He turned back. "Come on. I want to show you something."
At the end of the strip mall was a vacant lot. Patches of gravel and long grass were interspersed with cracked asphalt. "My playground." He gestured with an elbow, hands still in his pockets, and we crossed the lot, picking our way through broken glass and trash, and emerged through a broken paling fence to another street.
Nick led the way three more blocks, without speaking, until we came up to a chain link fence. "That's the high school. I never went there - we were in California by then." He pointed through the chain link fence. "See that gravel patch there? It used to be a three-sided shed. They stored a mower and stuff there. When I had to get away - when my dad was after me with the belt - I'd go there. I was safe once I got over the fence. He couldn't climb it."
I put a hand on his shoulder. It was the only thing I could think of to do - I sure didn't have a clue what to say. Then he turned to face me, and I realized with surprise that the emotion brightening his blue eyes was happiness.
"Cody, that fucking asshole has spent the last three hours bitching about his life. Making excuses. Telling me he was too young to be a good father. That he did the best he could - " Nick scowled briefly, then laughed and closed his hands on the chain link fence. "Cody, he's weak. He's still the asshole that left us - the one that beat the shit out of me six days a week and twice on Sundays - but now - I'm not afraid of him any more." He repeated it quietly. "I'm not afraid any more."
I squeezed Nick's shoulder, knowing anything I tried to say would be both inadequate and clumsy, immeasurably moved that he had chosen to share this with me. He turned back to me, grinning widely, eyes warm. "I'm really laying it on ya, aren't I, man? Thank you. I needed you here today."
"Hey," I told him, grinning back just as broadly. "Cody Allen Buddy Support Services are open for business. $200 a day plus expenses." He punched my shoulder, and together we headed back to the motel.
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Cody was silent on the drive back. I think he was prob'ly scared to open his mouth in case I snapped his head off - he knows how quick my mood can swing when I'm wired. But this time he needn't have worried. My dad'd been a black spot in my life so long, like a wound going bad, festering. Now, seeing him, recognizing him as weak - I can't even describe what was going on in my head. What I do know is that for the first time ever, I felt like a success. Felt like I was worth something. And that - well, that feeling changed everything.
Back in our motel room, Cody switched the TV on, found a baseball game and sat down to watch it. I stretched out on one of the twin beds, and thought back to an evening nearly 10 years ago, when we were in the Military Police. Me and Cody had both been drinking - really, we were drunk - and spinning BS about all the hundreds of chicks we were dating. We'd nearly run out of beer, and somehow started a wrestling match for the last one. Well, that wrestling match ended on the floor. One minute, we were rolling round laughing - the next minute Cody was kissing me. And - I kissed him back. Hard. For about 5 seconds. Then I shoved him off me, and got the hell away from there.
I pretended it never happened, and I guess Cody thought I was too drunk to remember it. But I remembered it all right. Remembered how incredibly, awesomely good it had felt. Remembered the fear and shame that sent me out of the room like all the hounds of hell were after me - the echo of my father's voice taunting me "Nick, if you don't learn to take your punishment like a man, you're gonna grow up to be a faggot."
Well, my dad was right on one count. But he was wrong about everything else - so goddamn wrong. Time the bastard got the hell out of my life - for good.
I looked over at my blond partner, sprawling in the armchair. For the first time, I let myself see - appreciate - how incredibly fucking gorgeous he was. Is. My eyes wandered over him, his chiseled features, as familiar to me as my own, his muscular torso... I sighed, licked my lips and sat up. "Cody, turn that off, huh?"
"Is it keeping you up?"
My cock, already hard, twitched and I swallowed a grin as he turned to look at me. Something was getting me up, alright. Two steps and I switched the TV off. Cody stood up as I moved towards him, no doubt wondering what the hell was going on. I couldn't wait even one more second - I grabbed his upper arms, pushed him back against the wall and crushed his lips with mine.
For a second he was rigid - then suddenly started to kiss me back with an urgency that matched my desperation. His hands came up to hold my head, and I felt his fingertips kneading my scalp as our tongues did battle.
Needing to touch him, I pushed his t-shirt up, rubbing the flat of my hand up his beautiful chest. He pulled away from my kiss to moan, arching into my hand. "Oh, Jesus, Nick!" He turned his eyes to mine and I felt the room start to spin as I gazed into the blue depths.
"I love you" I ground out, and then he was kissing me again.
He ripped my shirt off - I could feel his hands shaking. Somehow we got rid of the rest of our clothes, and made it to the closest bed.
Sprawling backwards onto it, I pulled Cody with me, one arm tight around him, the other hand roaming his chest, pinching his nipple.
"Nick" he growled into my ear, then bit at my neck, making me moan. I could feel the heat from his groin, his cock hard and hungry against my hip, mine thrusting against his belly. Still moaning, I reached for his ass, pulling him down, harder against me, and he released my neck to gasp.
I turned my head and found his lips again, feeling him start to thrust his hips against me, fireworks starting in my brain as his movement created the gorgeous friction between us. I gripped his ass and bucked to meet him, feeling myself so close... so close... "Cody" I nearly sobbed and as I said his name he let his breath go in a long gasp.
"Oh God... Oh Nick..." and then he came, and the feel of his hot wetness spurting between us was all I needed to push me over the edge as well.
We lay still, after, for a long time. Cody on top of me, his legs either side of mine, his head on my shoulder, my arms around him. And I knew then that what I'd told Cody by the old high school was true. I wasn't afraid any more.
Part II
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