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second chances
Nick didn't cut his hair for a while...there were many lovely pictures. What started as a drabble grew into a series and it's finally hit 1000 words, which seems to be the threshold of story-dom, so I dug them out and figured I'd post them all together here.
Second Chances
Popslash
Pairing: Nick/AJ
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Other than the pictures, all of this is made-up.
non-chronological bits of story, in increments of 100 words
Kevin knows they think they're being discreet, and they are, mostly. But he's known them for half their lives, seen them grow into the men they are now.
Truly, it's only the small things that have tipped him off: Nick making sure AJ drinks enough water after each show, AJ keeping track of where Nick's last kicked off his shoes.
Kevin bides his time, until he comes upon them, Nick asleep on AJ's lap, black-nailed hands petting the too-long shaggy mess Nick's taken to calling a haircut. AJ looks up, wary and protective, and Kevin can finally smile his approval.
***
AJ can't figure it out. He knows Nick knows how much AJ wanted him back when they were kids, back when they were under Lou’s thumb, back when nobody even hinted about anything other than generic love with a conventionally pretty girl.
AJ never did anything then, of course. Hell, no, that might have started something real. Instead, he waited until the middle of his lost year and he doesn’t remember what he said or did, but Brian's assured him that nobody holds it against him.
Nick’s never mentioned it.
Back when everything started, Nick had the blond-blond hair--long and silky, shaped and neat--and AJ's hands had itched to comb through it. Now, it's shaggy and messy and AJ's hands don't want to comb through it as much as they want to tangle in it, pull hard and tight.
Nick hasn't cut his hair since they started the European leg of the tour. AJ doesn't understand what Nick's thinking, not until Nick pushes him up against the wall of his hotel room.
"Fucking clueless," Nick growls against AJ's mouth, one long leg pressing hard between AJ's, and that's not precisely true. AJ's hands know exactly what to do.
***
AJ knows better, has spent years fighting the rage and depression and fear, but sometimes the self-loathing still crashes over him. He hides it okay, he thinks, until the night Nick spends hours fucking him. In the shower, on the floor, against the wall, across the bed--slow, rough, deep, until they're shaking and spent.
"Sorry," AJ slurs.
"For?" Nick's arms tighten around him.
"All the time I wasted."
"Nah." Nick licks along his spine. "We'd have fucked it up before. 's better now. Real."
AJ slides into sleep, dreams of the battered toy who became real because of love.
***
Every therapist AJ's known would agree--it's a bad idea to talk relationships in bed. But what would they know about how Nick can wrap himself around a person?
When AJ asks, Nick shrugs. "Hell, yeah. But it's not like you don't have a wicked mouth on you." He rolls AJ on top of him. "I'm good 'til whenever."
If they were living a fantasy, it would have happened then, but it's reality, so it's another month before Nick's pushing slowly inside AJ, so controlled and focused that AJ hardly recognizes the kid he wanted in the man he has.
***
Nick doesn't think it's necessary. AJ knows they have enough stacked against them; they can't be fighting ghosts, too.
Nick meets AJ's shrink; agrees that she's a tough, no-nonsense broad, in the best sense of the word. "Fine," Nick says to her. "If we have to do this, let's fucking do it."
AJ honestly doesn't remember what went down that night--hell, the whole damn tour is shaky. Nick finally says, "Some chick'd just shot me down, and you told me it was okay, you'd take my pretty little cocksucking mouth any day."
"Nick--"
Nick looks him dead in the eye. "I backhanded you, left you for Howie to pick up."
"Nick--"
"Shut up, Aje," Nick says, fierce and low. "Just because you're an addict doesn't mean you're the only one who ever acted shitty."
AJ nods slowly. "I don't remember."
Nick shrugs then, but after they spend all day pretending nothing's different, he slams his guitar down. "You think I'd have started anything if I still cared?"
"No," AJ admits.
"Are we done with this?"
"Maybe?"
"Can we fuck while you think about it?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Nick's hand is warm around his wrist. "Take your time, then."
***
AJ generally avoids any mention of birthdays. Back in the day, they were his favorite excuse for booze and blow. Lately, he just calls his mom, catches a movie or three until normal life resumes at midnight.
This year, they're traveling; he'll wing it once they get checked-in.
Except the room's unexpectedly full of DVDs and popcorn and Howie and Kevin and Brian and Baylee, who wants to know if AJ needs help blowing out his candles.
Nick can't hide his self-satisfied smirk, but when they're alone, he begs so sweetly under AJ that it's easy enough to forgive him.
***
AJ knows Nick's on guard--he'd grown up aiding and abetting Brian's practical joke wars with Kevin after all, but AJ thinks starting the big day with a leisurely blow job worked well as subterfuge. Disarming, in a pornographic way.
AJ's pretty pleased with his plan--everybody from the maids at the hotel to the roadies to their drivers stop Nick to wish him happy birthday. By the time they hit the buses after the show, Nick's spent the day laughing and threatening to strangle him.
There's not much AJ can do about the rest of it, about the calls that won't be coming. AJ fucking knew that shit was going to happen, but knowing doesn't make it any easier when Nick looks up from checking his phone for messages that aren't there.
Nick shakes his head. "What's that Brian always says about families of choice?"
"That we are one," AJ answers. "Good times and bad; we're it."
There really isn't room for two in the bus's shower, especially when one of you is as big as Nick, but AJ started the day teasing Nick until he couldn't even curse; he sees nothing wrong with ending it that way, too.
***
Thanks to Liz for the pictures and to M for counting words with me.
Second Chances
Popslash
Pairing: Nick/AJ
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Other than the pictures, all of this is made-up.
non-chronological bits of story, in increments of 100 words
Kevin knows they think they're being discreet, and they are, mostly. But he's known them for half their lives, seen them grow into the men they are now.
Truly, it's only the small things that have tipped him off: Nick making sure AJ drinks enough water after each show, AJ keeping track of where Nick's last kicked off his shoes.
Kevin bides his time, until he comes upon them, Nick asleep on AJ's lap, black-nailed hands petting the too-long shaggy mess Nick's taken to calling a haircut. AJ looks up, wary and protective, and Kevin can finally smile his approval.
AJ can't figure it out. He knows Nick knows how much AJ wanted him back when they were kids, back when they were under Lou’s thumb, back when nobody even hinted about anything other than generic love with a conventionally pretty girl.
AJ never did anything then, of course. Hell, no, that might have started something real. Instead, he waited until the middle of his lost year and he doesn’t remember what he said or did, but Brian's assured him that nobody holds it against him.
Nick’s never mentioned it.
Back when everything started, Nick had the blond-blond hair--long and silky, shaped and neat--and AJ's hands had itched to comb through it. Now, it's shaggy and messy and AJ's hands don't want to comb through it as much as they want to tangle in it, pull hard and tight.
Nick hasn't cut his hair since they started the European leg of the tour. AJ doesn't understand what Nick's thinking, not until Nick pushes him up against the wall of his hotel room.
"Fucking clueless," Nick growls against AJ's mouth, one long leg pressing hard between AJ's, and that's not precisely true. AJ's hands know exactly what to do.
AJ knows better, has spent years fighting the rage and depression and fear, but sometimes the self-loathing still crashes over him. He hides it okay, he thinks, until the night Nick spends hours fucking him. In the shower, on the floor, against the wall, across the bed--slow, rough, deep, until they're shaking and spent.
"Sorry," AJ slurs.
"For?" Nick's arms tighten around him.
"All the time I wasted."
"Nah." Nick licks along his spine. "We'd have fucked it up before. 's better now. Real."
AJ slides into sleep, dreams of the battered toy who became real because of love.
Every therapist AJ's known would agree--it's a bad idea to talk relationships in bed. But what would they know about how Nick can wrap himself around a person?
When AJ asks, Nick shrugs. "Hell, yeah. But it's not like you don't have a wicked mouth on you." He rolls AJ on top of him. "I'm good 'til whenever."
If they were living a fantasy, it would have happened then, but it's reality, so it's another month before Nick's pushing slowly inside AJ, so controlled and focused that AJ hardly recognizes the kid he wanted in the man he has.
Nick doesn't think it's necessary. AJ knows they have enough stacked against them; they can't be fighting ghosts, too.
Nick meets AJ's shrink; agrees that she's a tough, no-nonsense broad, in the best sense of the word. "Fine," Nick says to her. "If we have to do this, let's fucking do it."
AJ honestly doesn't remember what went down that night--hell, the whole damn tour is shaky. Nick finally says, "Some chick'd just shot me down, and you told me it was okay, you'd take my pretty little cocksucking mouth any day."
"Nick--"
Nick looks him dead in the eye. "I backhanded you, left you for Howie to pick up."
"Nick--"
"Shut up, Aje," Nick says, fierce and low. "Just because you're an addict doesn't mean you're the only one who ever acted shitty."
AJ nods slowly. "I don't remember."
Nick shrugs then, but after they spend all day pretending nothing's different, he slams his guitar down. "You think I'd have started anything if I still cared?"
"No," AJ admits.
"Are we done with this?"
"Maybe?"
"Can we fuck while you think about it?"
"Yeah."
"Good." Nick's hand is warm around his wrist. "Take your time, then."
AJ generally avoids any mention of birthdays. Back in the day, they were his favorite excuse for booze and blow. Lately, he just calls his mom, catches a movie or three until normal life resumes at midnight.
This year, they're traveling; he'll wing it once they get checked-in.
Except the room's unexpectedly full of DVDs and popcorn and Howie and Kevin and Brian and Baylee, who wants to know if AJ needs help blowing out his candles.
Nick can't hide his self-satisfied smirk, but when they're alone, he begs so sweetly under AJ that it's easy enough to forgive him.
AJ knows Nick's on guard--he'd grown up aiding and abetting Brian's practical joke wars with Kevin after all, but AJ thinks starting the big day with a leisurely blow job worked well as subterfuge. Disarming, in a pornographic way.
AJ's pretty pleased with his plan--everybody from the maids at the hotel to the roadies to their drivers stop Nick to wish him happy birthday. By the time they hit the buses after the show, Nick's spent the day laughing and threatening to strangle him.
There's not much AJ can do about the rest of it, about the calls that won't be coming. AJ fucking knew that shit was going to happen, but knowing doesn't make it any easier when Nick looks up from checking his phone for messages that aren't there.
Nick shakes his head. "What's that Brian always says about families of choice?"
"That we are one," AJ answers. "Good times and bad; we're it."
There really isn't room for two in the bus's shower, especially when one of you is as big as Nick, but AJ started the day teasing Nick until he couldn't even curse; he sees nothing wrong with ending it that way, too.
Thanks to Liz for the pictures and to M for counting words with me.
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