A/N: I wrote this because, um, Nickelly is super sexy, like sex on a stick sexy. Plus, I've been extra troublesome to Love's Crash Test Dummy lately. Sorry I'm such a pain in the ass co-author (even though you should have known what you were getting yourself into). Love you much, babe. Writing this was uber fun…and so was hacking your Twitter and making Trevor Donovan and Nicole Anderson probably consider taking out restraining orders against you.
Ink to Ink
Their first time (coincidentally together) had been a dare.
"Your dad is going to kill you."
She laughs right in his face, a low sound much too bitter for someone so young. "He'd have to notice first, which he won't. He doesn't notice anything anymore."
Truthfully, the only reason Nicky even considered calling Kelly on her bluff to get a tattoo is because he didn't think either of them would go through with it. After all, they're sixteen years old. It's illegal to tattoo a minor without parental consent and there is no way in hell his parents would give him permission to do this. If they even knew he was at this seedy tattoo shop (that's more like someone's basement) instead of a Post-Nationals function, he would probably be grounded for life.
"Kel, are you sure this guy is legit?" Nicky asks. He gulps and looks over at their tattoo artist.
Kelly looks up from the catalog of tattoos in her lap and thoroughly gives the man an onceover with a hard stare. He sits across the shop (basement), prepping his equipment. He's a short and stout, burley man in a leather vest with tattoos running up and down both of his arms in full, colorful sleeves. Noticing the two teenagers looking at him, the artist, Big Justin, smiles.
"Of course," Kelly answers like it's the easiest thing in the world. "Nick, would you relax? My stepmom of the month's ex-stepson's uncle's godson's cousin twice removed said this guy is cool."
"But did you actually see his tattoo?" Nicky asks skeptically.
"For the millionth time, duh," she replies.
"Parks, duh doesn't mean yes."
"You know, Nick, you should totally get smartass tattooed across your forehead," Kelly retorts. "It's suiting."
Nicky just sighs loudly and grabs the book from Kelly's lap without even thinking to ask.
Kelly sighs irritably. "Nick, it's two words. It's not like you're getting the Mona Lisa on your ass. Plus, after what happened today, nothing and I mean nothing can possibly hurt more than losing Nationals, coming in second to Kaylie Cruz and Austin Tucker."
Kelly Parker may not be the most eloquent person on the planet, but she somehow convinces him to get this tattoo as a symbol of their friendship and as motivation for what's to come in the future – Worlds and then eventually the Olympics. Kelly gets hers on her left wrist. Nicky gets his on the lower part of the back of his neck, right between his shoulder blades.
Two words.
Stay true.
She catches him talking to Payson Keeler once and Kelly flips the fuck out. She asks a bunch of questions that Nicky's sure has nothing to do with anything and then she somehow ends up asking him about a friendship bracelet she made for him when they were eight. Nicky figures it got lost between the different houses he's moved in and out of, his pre-serious-gymnast days when his life bent around his father's job. After screaming at him one last time, Kelly storms out.
Nicky tries to call her a number of times after (though he doesn't know why he even bothers) and to his surprise, she doesn't pick up. She screens his calls like he's a telemarketer, just an annoyance in her life and not her best friend since they were children.
After a whole week of the silent treatment, Nicky ends up right back in Big Justin's chair. In hand is a photo of him and Kelly when they were young – eight or maybe nine. Kelly is adorable, plump cheeks and pigtails. Nicky is skinny and short with crazy black hair standing on ends, grinning like a maniac, his front teeth missing. In the photo, around his wrist, is a beaded bracelet.
Pointing to the picture, Nicky wearily looks up at Big Justin and tells him to duplicate the bracelet right on his wrist.
Nicky always finds it just a little funny that Kelly Parker is such a self-proclaimed badass, but when it comes to her father she's scared shitless.
She wears bracelets and sweatbands and things of that nature around her left wrist when she's around her dad (even if it isn't often) and at the gym (because anyone there would totally rat on her). Nicky is probably the only one who notices when she starts covering both wrists.
"Take these stupid things off," he says directly and probably obviously.
Kelly doesn't seem to care much for what he's saying as she flips through a gymnastics magazine, probably checking if they spelt her name right in all the articles about her. Nicky reaches for the sweatbands on her wrists. He gently takes the first off, revealing the stay true and tosses it over to the coffee table where his feet are propped up. He then reaches for the second one and smirks once he gets it off.
"Ah-hah! I knew it!" Nicky nearly shouts.
"Gold star for you, Nick," she dully replies.
"When did you get this tattoo done?"
"Faith's birthday party."
Nicky rolls his eyes when Kelly mentions the other Denver Elite gymnast who's at times annoying, not serious whatsoever about the sport. Plus, these days, he feels like she's trying to steal his best friend from him.
"So how long have you had it?" he asks.
"It's almost been a month since then. And, no, you weren't invited. No, I didn't get permission. No, it didn't get infected. Yes, it hurt like a bitch," Kelly rattles on. "Any other stating-the-obvious questions?"
"Belle laide," Nicky reads in the best French accent he can do. His eyes trace the black ink on her right wrist over and over again. At the sound of his low (super freaking hot) voice, Kelly completely abandons her magazine and looks over at her best friend. "It's French."
"Again, stating the obvious, Nick."
"Belle laide," he says again in the same tone of voice. As he continues to look at her wrist, Kelly leans back into the couch and slowly closes her eyes. "What does it mean?"
At that, Kelly laughs long and loud. "You mean the guy who knows everything, doesn't know?"
"You don't have to rub it in," he complains beneath his breath.
"Belle laide," she says. Her accent isn't as accurate as his, but it does sound cute coming from her. "It means beautiful ugly, something that isn't conventionally beautiful, but still attractive or something flawed, but still beautiful…something like that."
Nicky doesn't know what comes over him in that moment, but he has the strongest urge to tell her that it's a beautiful saying just like her.
Instead, he asks, "So I'm guessing Faith got a matching one?"
Kelly just giggles and turns her attention back to her magazine. "Faith woke up with a caricature of Katy Perry on her inner thigh and she doesn't remember getting it at all. She's going to have a fun time explaining that one to Marty come Monday."
Nicky chuckles. "I spoke too soon."
Nicky really has no idea how they fall into this dirty, slutty cycle that is recreational sex.
One minute he was checking sports highlights and the next, Kelly walks right in like she owns the damn place (his living room; his TV) takes the controller right from his hands and changes it to some trashy shit on Mtv. It starts with a physical struggle, her leaning away from him and him trying to get it away from her. He tries to wrestle it away from her like they'd do when they were kids, except now they aren't little children anymore.
Somehow between her trying to get up from the couch and run away and him grabbing her hips and pulling her back down, it became less about the TV controller and more about the way he pins her to the cushions of the couch, the feeling of his body pressed into hers and the dominance exuded with the way his hands clamp around her wrists.
When the feelings in the room change and they're locked in this intense stare, Kelly's the one who leans up and presses her lips into his. Nicky knows because he remembers thinking about how this is going to change everything between them. He remembers thinking that and not caring as he kissed her back.
They don't actually start having sex until her fifteenth birthday when her dad stands her up, leaving her looking so hurt and vulnerable. Nicky just had to sweep in, to comfort her and be there for her the only way he knows how – with action and little words. He remembers being so hesitant and afraid at first, but then somewhere around the time he tugged off her cute little dress and she unzipped his jeans, his nerves disappeared because it's Kelly. There's no one else in the world that he trusts more.
Afterwards, as they lie in bed together, her head on his bare chest and his arm around her petite form, Kelly uses her index finger to senselessly trace the tattoo of the beaded bracelet around his wrist. He knows without words that it's the best present anyone has ever given her. Time and time again, he takes the pain for her, from her, and nothing anyone can do for her will ever be greater or have greater meaning than that.
He chooses Denver and most of the time he thinks it's exactly where he needs to be.
Other, darker days, he regrets that decision. He should have stayed. He should have stayed to convince Kaylie to give him a shot or to smooth things out with Payson. He should have stayed and moved forward. He shouldn't have ran backwards, right into the past, right back to Kelly Parker.
Once things started to get semi-serious with Payson (as serious as a first kiss is) Nicky stopped everything with Kelly. She wasn't very pleased with his decision, but she would have been even more pissed off if he continued their frivolous fucking while also pursuing an actual relationship with Payson. Then he goes through the emotional pinball machine that is Kaylie Cruz. This android of a gymnast is definitely going haywire.
"Tell me you missed me," Kelly murmurs breathlessly.
"I missed you, Parks," he replies.
It isn't a lie. He has missed this, always having someone and sometimes more importantly knowing he always has someone. He misses her annoying voice bitching to him about things that no one else cares about and the way he knows she would never choose her best friend over him. After all, he is her best and only friend.
Nicky kisses down her neck as they stumble into her bedroom. Nicky feels himself stepping all over things in the dark and Kelly gets distracted, shouting things like, "Nick, my Christian Louboutins!" and then he'll shift just to step on something else and she'll yet again shout, "Nick, your big clown feet are crushing my favorite shoes!"
"Well, maybe if you cleaned your room for once…"
"Nick, you're such a—"
Nicky presses his lips against hers, trying to drown out the sound of her voice nagging him for something or other. He manages to lead/half-carry her over to her bed where he flings her down carelessly. He yanks off his shirt in one smooth, practiced swoop and he looks down at Kelly who grabs the edge of her tank top and does the same. Grinning like a fool about to get laid, Nicky starts to move over her, but then he stops, seeing something he didn't know was there.
Ink on her left ribcage. It's a tattoo that's more like a whole freaking mural.
Kelly ropes her arm around his neck, not even paying attention to his expression or maybe not seeing it in her dark room. She tries to pull Nicky down with her, but he won't budge.
"Whoa," he murmurs. "When did you get all that done?"
Kelly shrugs like it isn't a big deal. "A while ago, actually. You weren't around."
Nicky stares, looking rather enchanted.
"You like?" she asks. Her voice sounds more curious than it does seeking approval.
"What does it all mean?" he asks.
Nicky feels Kelly go ridged beneath him. He goes to sit on the edge of her bed with them no longer touching. There's this sudden tension in the room as Kelly stares down at the tattoos on one side of her slim, smooth abdomen. It's a look Nicky can't quite understand. This newfound tension, he understands even less.
"Parks," he says encouragingly. "Come on, what do they mean?"
"They don't mean anything," she says defensively. "Drop it, Nick."
"We both know that isn't true," he says.
Nicky lies down on his side with his elbow pressed into the mattress and his hand cradling his jaw. He looks over at Kelly who's sitting up with her legs crossed Indian-style. Carefully, Nicky brings his free hand, the one with the bracelet tattooed on his wrist, out to trace the intricate tattooing on her side. He starts to outline the lettering, a jumble of letters that make no sense to him despite his acute knowledge of Spanish and French.
"What does this mean?" he asks gently in the dark. "Ma-hal-ki-ta."
Kelly laughs softly. "Mahal kita," she says with more of an accent that Nicky has never heard on her before. "It means 'I love you' in Filipino."
Nicky blinks. "You're Filipino?"
Kelly rolls her eyes and sarcastically says, "Nice one, bestie."
Kelly leans over and Nicky protectively brings up his arms, expecting her to hit him or something. Kelly just laughs and it's such a comforting sound to him. Suddenly the lamp at her bedside table comes to life and there's a framed photograph of her parents – a white man in a business suite and a little dark-haired, darker skinned woman. Kelly is a nice mixture of the two.
Nicky feels awkward a moment, the fact that he's shirtless and she's only in her bra and shorts, as they look at a picture of her parents, but he doesn't breathe a word of it to Kelly. She can probably sense his uneasy and gets a kick out of it.
"Of course, I'm Filipino. It's been a while, but you've met my mom. What did you think I was?" Kelly asks. Right as Nicky opens his mouth, Kelly scowls. "Wait. Don't answer that."
"So what compelled you to get it?"
Kelly's face darkens. "My grandpa died."
Nicky holds back the comment about him not knowing she had a grandpa and frowns instead. "I'm sorry, Parks."
"Don't. I didn't know him that well. I met him once when I was little and my mom says he taught me how to say mahal kita, my first words in Tagalog," Kelly says with such pride. Nicky hasn't seen her this proud since she won her first title as National Champion.
Nicky looks back to her side and his fingers dance across the gladiolus flowers.
"And these?"
Kelly takes a deep breath and taps the glass of the photo of her parents that Nicky's still holding. He notices that the flowers inked into her skin are exactly like the ones her father is holding out to her mother.
"Them," Kelly says simply. "She may have left him, us, but, I mean, she had her reasons and I respect her for it. It's her life. I'd still choose her over a slut like Ronnie Cruz or a piñata like Emily Kmetko's mother. And him…he may never be around at all, but he's working. He's following his own dreams. When I got the tat I was thinking about them."
Nicky nods. He may not speak Kelly Parker, but he does understand Kelly Parker. She's trying to say that despite their flaws, she loves her parents. She just can't say it – one of her own flaws.
"And last, but not least, these," Nicky says. He brings his fingers up over the two doves and he feels Kelly quiver beneath his touch. When he looks away from the tattoo and up at her, she's staring right back at him.
"The doves are like…me…and you," Kelly says hesitantly, pausing as she struggles to get the words out. Gently, she takes Nicky's hand in hers and touches the tattooed beads on his wrist. "I figured that even you had the balls to get this for me and I should…return the favor."
Not daring to check his reaction, Kelly chuckles bitterly. "Ooh, new interpretation! They're doves. They fly away. Kinda like what you did to me." Kelly lays his hand down in the space between them and pushes his hand away from her ribcage. She then turns onto her side and curls up. "You know, what? Trying to do this again was stupid. Just leave, Nick, you're good at that. Lock up before you go."
Nicky pauses a moment, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. He stares at Kelly as she lies there with her shirt discarded to the floor. She's so exposed and not just physically, emotionally too. She looks so damn insecure and fragile and unlike the side of Kelly he's used to seeing. To walk out on her now would simply be too cruel, even for Nicky.
"You totally stole my move," Nicky says, intentionally lighthearted. "It doesn't score too many points in creativity, but I do give out As for effort."
Nicky gently picks up the framed photo of her parents and puts it right back on the nightstand. He's made the first move and now all he needs to do is wait for Kelly's counter attack. He hears ruffling and when he turns back around Kelly is looking up at him.
"You know, I wasn't bullshitting or just telling you what you wanted to hear when I said I missed you," Nicky says, stretching out beside her in bed. Nicky reaches out his hand until he feels her hot skin against his fingers. His arm curls around her hips and his body presses up behind her.
"You ran away from me," she says spitefully, tugging away.
"I had things to sort out."
"And?" Kelly asks impatiently.
"And I came back to you," Nicky whispers. "That means something, Kelly."
"So what about all the rumors about you and Kaylie Cruz? That has to mean something too, right?" she asks accusingly. Her voice almost cracks with that one. Nicky holds her tighter and presses his forehead to her bare shoulder.
"Not an issue," he assures her. "Kaylie Cruz isn't even an option anymore. It's all you, Parks."
When she remains unconvinced, Nicky turns onto his side again and gently takes her shoulders, forcing her to lay straight and look at him.
"Is Kaylie Cruz the one who somehow convinced me to get a motivational saying tattooed on my back, where I can't see it?" Nicky asks. That gets a little smile out of Kelly. "Or what about this bracelet that I can never take off or lose? It's all you, Kel. It's as clear as the ink on me and the ink on you."
After his little speech, all Kelly says is four little words:
"I missed you too."
Kelly kisses him softly and the only time they break apart is when Nicky leans over to snap off the light from the lamp and place that picture of her parents face down.
A/N: I wrote ALL OF THIS in two sittings? How crazy is that? This is SO LONG!
Anyways...
BTW: Nicole Anderson and Cody Longo are such tattoo whores. The ones mentioned were all legitly Nicole's, but with a Kelly Parker interpretation and I have no clue to what Cody's even are, but I love it! They both look so innocent and good, but they're all inked and real. So. Much. Love. I referenced LCTD's fics a bit here and even the Pants, but I don't think you'll catch that one until after next Sunday.
Love it? Review it.
xoxo