TITLE: Sea Change II
AUTHOR: roseveare
RATING: M
LENGTH: 19,500 words
SUMMARY: In which Nathan Wuornos agrees to spend the night with Duke Crocker, obviously heralding the End Times, or at least guaranteeing that crooks take over the Cape Rouge in the morning.
NOTES: Sequel to Sea Change. Set after 2.2: Fear & Loathing. What it has of a plot is hiding out in Part 2.
THANKS: To Kattahj and Cryptolect for beta!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no profit, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Sea Change II
Part 1. In which Nathan Wuornos agrees to spend the night with Duke Crocker.
Nathan puts up on the station board the three photos that just came through on the fax, and curses internally when he finds blood on his fingers upon retrieving one of the pins stashed in his mouth. He hears his father's voice grumble, "Godarmit, you'll swallow one, one day, and then where will you be?" But the Chief isn't there, so he pins the last picture and walks back to his office, which says Chief Wuornos on the door, licking the taste of blood from his lip and wiping his fingers off on his pants.
Parker's perched on the edge of his desk next to two coffee cups, talking on her cellphone. The conversation appears to be to Audrey II and, mostly, about a hair appointment. It's not like him to berate her for doing that on work time but he kind of wants to, even if it's not like her to do that on work time and this is almost unprecedented. She has a girl friend. This being Haven, and Parker, it's a weird girl friend. She also has almost zero time that is not work time, so in practice, Nathan manages to keep his mouth shut and grabs his coffee, sniffing for the one without a heap of sugar. "Ah!" Parker breaks off from her conversation and her hand rises in warning, but he drinks anyway and shrugs at her. If he burnt his mouth, he can't tell, and he needs the caffeine too much to care.
Funny dreams might be bothering him a while yet. What with the Chief's death, and being Chief, being able to feel again for that short time and, well, giving it away. That's screwing with him more than he thought it would. The fact it was his own choice makes it worse. That, and he had it all back and didn't really get to do anything. Spent the whole time working, instead, and of course Audrey didn't question it but he knows Duke found it rightly hilarious. Now, he feels nothing in the nerves that were alive yesterday as his fingertips rasp against the surface of his desk. Missed opportunities paraded his dreams last night. He knows he'll get the chance again... the Troubles, they come and they go, always have before. But at the moment, it remains an indefinite sentence. How long does he have to put his life on hold, before he can return to being a part of the world?
Parker scoots off his desk and takes her conversation to the window, gesturing to him with an apologetic lift of her hand, and Nathan hears her trying to wind things to a close. He sits and burrows his head as he hunches over paperwork, trying to surreptitiously block his ears from Parker and Parker's talk as he scours the information that came with the pictures from Bangor.
Instead of police work, something he hasn't thought of in weeks snaps to the forefront of his brain. Something Duke, of all people, said months ago. For a couple of weeks it had been hard to get it out of his thoughts, but then there'd been Jess, then there'd been discovering he could feel Audrey Parker, which had screwed with him ever so much more. But Jess had gone and Parker had a hundred other things going on. Nathan wasn't going to impose himself upon her just because of the incidental fact that he could feel her and no-one else. Wasn't fair. He'd been very firm with himself over that point.
Yesterday, it had almost not mattered. Then he'd given it away, and God, it was the right thing to do, but he was an idiot, and he wasn't going to stop railing at himself in the privacy of his own head for doing that stupid, moronic, noble thing anytime soon.
Duke. Back that time he almost drowned, Duke had kissed him and offered him... something. He's not entirely sure what, doesn't think Duke was entirely sure what, but he has a standing offer from Duke Crocker for some kind of relationship, or... experimentation, or... thing.
Goddamn it. Duke was there and saw, and he thinks Nathan's an idiot, too. But at least that also means Duke knows the whole story, and Nathan doesn't have any other offers he'd take up. He's honest enough with himself to recognise there are other options out there, but he's nowhere near that desperate and this one, well, it was never at the bottom of the pile.
He takes out his phone even as Parker puts hers away, looks at it a moment, and decides he's not doing this over the phone. He rises from his desk. "Heading out," he says to Parker, grabbing for his jacket. "Errand to run."
"Oh?" she looks interested.
"Something to talk to Duke about," he fills in. It'll look more suspicious not to tell her that much.
Her eyes light up with her smile. "It's great that you're both getting along better. I'd best finish these reports now. Tell him I said hi."
"I'll do that." If she knew what he's heading over there to talk about, she'd spit that pen she's chewing across the room. There's a lot of funny things go on in Haven, but Nathan thinks probably few of even those compare with the Police Chief showing up on the deck of a career criminal to request that he fuck him.
When Duke's not on his boat, it's almost a relief. Nathan's doubts multiplied on the way over. Of course, Duke has the Gull now, and his wife is in town. Maybe he's with her. Yeah, and Nathan doesn't feel at all disappointed as he reminds himself Duke Crocker is a married man. Holy crap. What's more, the bastard never even told him. Back when he was kissing Nathan in his truck, and undressed him and no doubt took liberties after he passed out, Duke never mentioned he had a wife.
It is totally the kindest escape ever offered by fate that Duke is elsewhere today, thereby negating this temporary loss of sanity.
"...Nathan? To what do I owe the pleasure?" No, Duke is here, hefting a crate in both hands, all rolled-up shirt sleeves and broad smile, looking healthy and energetic as he strides aboard the Cape Rouge, where Nathan's waiting.
What he hasn't thought about is how he's going to frame this, although pleasure is one hoped-for part of it. Funny how once he's faced with the presence and physicality of Duke, all thoughts of fleeing... flee. "Duke." He nods curtly, acknowledging. Warming up.
"Nnnnnathan..." Duke stretches out his name in the repeat, some act of aping him that he no doubt believes to be funny. "Have you been caught up in someone's bad karma again, because I gotta tell you, I'm not in the mood for the crazy thing or the truth thing or whatever weirdness thing we're up to today. Today's a good day."
"I'm not under any influence." He wishes they lived somewhere he wouldn't have to have conversations like this quite so often. "I..." Came to ask a favour sounds wrong, because he's fairly sure Duke will be getting more enjoyment of it, plus he thinks it would make him come off kind of needy. He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to talk about something you said a while ago. If it still stands. I mean... Evi, you and Evi. It might not be... open anymore." Has he, indeed, missed that ship?
"What does Evi have to do with anything?" Duke looks casually confused as he sets down the crate in his hands.
"Sex, Duke." Nathan winces, because though he meant it to come out blunt, he didn't intend it quite that loud. All kinds of panic cross Duke's face, and he looks around, then scrambles down on a level with Nathan, grabs his arm and hustles him below decks of the Cape Rouge. "Not right now," Nathan grumbles, trying to drag his arm back. "I've got to get back to work, to Parker. Just wasn't up to doing this over the phone-"
"What? No, not right now!" Duke all but howls. "How are you even here, and talking about this? Is this about yesterday? Damn, I knew that was going to sting later. I am not taking advantage of you while you're still down from that, Nate, buddy. Go home... I mean, go to work. Go to Audrey. Fight crime. Do... whatever you do. Forget about it."
He leaves Nathan at the door of the galley, goes to the cupboard and takes out a bottle, which he swigs. "God. Nathan Wuornos comes to me asking for sex. What kind of morning is that?" He grins half-heartedly.
Nathan scowls, unamused. "But that time, you-" This is just proof that Duke was screwing with him. Should he be surprised? No: not when Duke is involved and all he's done is make an ass of himself, again. "You know what? Forget it. I misunderstood."
He's ready to turn around and go, keeping what's left of his dignity, but he also saw the change in Duke when he spoke, the abrupt, frozen realisation and regret.
"No..." Squinting at Nathan long and hard, Duke slowly puts down the bottle. "No, you're serious." He sighs. "But this is still about yesterday, and I would be a bad friend if I let you do this. Give it a week. If you still feel like going there..." Pain in his eyes as he says it.
"Duke," Nathan states flatly. "I'm here now because I won't have the drive to do this in a week. Now, while yesterday is still... before it all goes flat again. You don't know what it's like, and I..."
"...You want to feel something," Duke finishes, his voice low. He shakes his head, and almost reluctantly, turns it into a nod. "Alright. I'll... I guess it's a date."
"Evi?" Nathan prompts.
Duke flicks a hand, looking fleetingly annoyed. "She's in a hotel somewhere. Probably... tourist central, and mocking every cutesy minute of it. Look, I didn't even ask. We're separated. Three years. I have no plans. She may have plans. I'm a free agent. Still."
"I know it's... maybe a lot to ask, but back then, that day... you didn't even seem to act like... like it would be a problem." Nathan's doubts are returning. What if he does this and... can't do this? Not only will he get nothing out of it, but Duke will have a first-hand demonstration of just how broken he is, and if there's anyone he doesn't want to be that stripped-bare before... He obviously hasn't thought this through.
He waits for his mouth to start working, to take the request back, but somehow, he doesn't, and his uncertainties are left to hang in the air until Duke addresses them.
"Nathan, all I... what I think I was thinking, and bearing in mind this was a while ago, now... I'm a guy, unlike you, with an imagination. I think I have ways. And no, you do not get all my secrets for free. You will have to show up to learn my ways."
Hearing that Duke has climbed fully on board, for some reason that only makes Nathan want to back off more. "You think you have a way around not being able to feel anything?" he asks flatly. Really. Really? How is this not Duke blowing so much air around?
Duke nods, though, smiling beatifically - only a little bit of a crumpled edge to it. "Last I heard, you have four other senses that work better than most."
Hell, yes. The thing is... as Nathan stands undecided, with it all out there already, he feels a shiver down his spine that's entirely imaginary. Duke is confident, clearly good at this, and clearly has... experience. Nathan doesn't have those things, but he has this offer. It would be impossible for him to explain, even if he would, the isolation of having had to write himself off as a sexual being, and the frustrating obliviousness of everyone else, with their easy assumption that sex is possible if they want it. For himself, Nathan's been waiting for a cosmic-level shift, for the Troubles to disappear and make him whole again. As to what he can do without - he and Jess only got to scratching the surface of it, and she's the only one so far who was inclined to try once they realised just what they'd have to contend with. Except Duke. For whatever reason, Duke wants to.
"But we're not just talking - just you doing me and then claiming that was the total plan," Nathan establishes, with a trace of anger. "Because that might work with any guy, maybe. It's not a question of - of performing. I need to be sure this isn't just you trying to screw me over in a wholly new and different way."
"Oh, it will be new and different," Duke says, smiling. "I promise you that." He eyes the clock on the wall. "How does eight o'clock work for your Bold and Unprecedented Leaps of Sexual Experimentation schedule?"
Nathan gives the barest hint of a nod, then turns.
He heads back to Parker.
He can't quite believe what he's just done.
Duke can't really believe that just happened. He keeps staring at the space where Nathan Wuornos stood in his doorway, thinking, this is a Trouble where you hallucinate that the people you've lusted after forever have come to fling themselves upon you, until, inevitably, it tries to kill you in some hitherto unthought-of and horrifying way.
He rings Parker and asks her something to that effect, and when she says no brushes it off hastily as to do with some odd behaviour from his estranged wife. Then he asks casually, oh and by the way how is Nathan? That throws him in it, because Parker goes quiet and says slowly, "He was coming to see you." Duke handwaves like crazy and spouts a bullshit theory that Nate probably saw Evi and him getting into it on the boat and figured it would wait for another time.
That, of course, means he has to ring Nathan and explain that he's put his foot in it, and why. He can, he'd swear, actually hear the stony expression on Detective Wuornos' face as he says, "I told you, I'm not under any weird influence, and I'm sure about the thing. Getting less and less, though."
They talk each other around again, and when they're both sure he's got his story straight for Parker, he rings off. This leaves Duke to smack his head into a cupboard door several times and take another large swallow of the Caribbean rum in the bottle he had to open because Nathan Wuornos came stomping on board his boat demanding sex.
"This is strange even for Haven," he addresses the bottle, candidly. "Then again, maybe it's just strange enough to be true." Nathan's pretty weird, after all, and that's not even mainly down to his Trouble and implacable-man routine. Who could expect him to act like a normal human being?
It puts Duke in a bit of a quandary, though, because now he has the whole day before him, and he was going to be doing... not much, he admits, in comparison with what's fallen into his lap now. But somehow, between now and eight o'clock, he has to manage not to go crazy while preparing an evening that will convince Nathan he's not talking out of his ass. That's not going to be anywhere near as straightforward as his one aborted effort to date Parker, which she blew off anyway.
It's a thought that gives Duke pause. Nathan, contrary to all expectation, isn't quite so bad as Parker in that he actually has a life, or sort of one, or at least a handful of weird hobbies, some of which are even vaguely sociable, though that may be an overly kind description of golf. There isn't quite so high a chance that this date will get blown off, but it has to be up there. Nathan does, after all, spend much of his time with Parker.
Duke twists through various convolutions of whether this possibility offers a potential save or crushing disappointment and can't decide.
It isn't even as though he's that much into guys. There've been a handful of times, but almost all of them involved girls being involved, too. There was this one time Evi really fancied a guy called Kone, who looked like a model-slash-bodybuilder, although if Duke remembers right he was an accountant, and Duke definitely remembers the guy's body, all shiny black skin and honed muscle against him, and... actually, never mind that story. Coming on to Nathan all those weeks back sort of came out of nowhere, but at the same time made a lot of sense, because he hadn't had those experiences back when he was in Haven before, in his teens, but he was always kind of obsessed with getting Nathan's attention in whatever way he could. There are, he suspects, a lot of Here Be Dragons in the territory of those thoughts.
He takes a rather larger swig of the rum, then looks at it and, very deliberately, puts it aside. "Sorry, buddy. You're a better listener than most, but I can't afford to get drunk. Nathan Wuornos wants to have sex. With me. Which probably means the world's about to end in some horrible way, but just on the off-chance, I... need to go cook."
The first thing he does is head to the Gull to rifle the cream of the ingredients for tonight's menu, as well as the best of the wine, which he has to pick carefully, because he wants a variety of flavours yet does not want anyone citing abundance of alcohol as an excuse for this, or anything that comes out of this. No-one is getting drunk tonight. Slightly hazy around the edges is acceptable.
As he's leaving the Gull loaded up with his prizes, he spies Evi watching him over a coffee from a discrete corner, clunks everything he's carrying down on the nearest table and wearily stomps across to deal out damage-control.
"Entertaining tonight?" she asks. "Who's the lucky girl? Officer Parker?"
"No... No, the lucky girl is not Officer Parker. You will stay away from my boat tonight, Evi. This one, I've been working on a while, and... it's important."
"Wow. That sounds actually close to sincere. Does she also know your wife is in town?" She sees the answer in his face. "Naughty girl. And naughty you, for that matter." She smacks his face lightly, grinning.
"I'm serious, Evi. Come on, I let you have... Kone... and if you don't still owe me for that one there is no justice in the world..."
She laughs at him, then stops. "Wait. I haven't even thought of that in years. Oh, my. That perfect body, and the way he took to you... It's a man." She zeroes in on the target with deadly precision. Her smile widens into a toothy carnivore grin. It softens when she knows she's right.
"If you could keep the volume down on that. Small towns. Gossip."
She reaches for his collar and yanks his head down so his ear is next to her lips, where she sing-songs, "You're screwing the Police Chief~"
Duke splutters. "He's not - his dad was-" Shit. This aspect of the situation had not actually occurred to him before now, and hell, Evi had to hit it dead on the nose again. He bends in closer. "He's only the interim Chief. He has enough enemies in this town that chances are it won't last. Could you try not to make it any shorter?" And so will he, he thinks fervently.
"Okay. Better cash in quick." She tidies his collar and lets it go. Her eyes are full of a respect that makes him feel faintly ill. "You're good," she says. "I'd almost forgotten that."
She makes him feel like scum, which is coincidentally what Nathan will think if any scrap of this conversation ever manages to get back to him. But if Evi thinks it's about running a scam or scoring points to cash in later, at least she won't screw with tonight, because a Police Chief in his pocket is just as potentially useful to her. So he waves her off and shakes his head to clear it, grabs up his stuff and blows the joint, which even if it is his own joint is starting to feel a bit claustrophobic to him.
None of this so far is going well. It's one of those things - when he thought about it before, not that he thought about it that much, but... in his head, it was always going to be great. There were no complications, no Police Chief, no damn wife. He was going to introduce Nathan to a whole new level of feeling, convince him once and for all that Duke Crocker is not the bad guy, and it was going to be great.
Screw fantasies, he decides. This is the moment where he acknowledges that reality will get in the way, because it always does. He needs to keep this real, and the first thing to lose is the idea that Nathan will ever trust him, that surrendering his body into Duke's hands might imply anything special. For fuck's sake, the man can't feel anything. He might as well have asked Duke to give him a haircut.
It isn't true, but the buzz of frustrated energy lasts until Duke's back aboard the Cape Rouge.
He drags out the rest of the stuff he wants to work with and surveys it, and scrubs his hands through his hair in despair.
Now he's on the spot, he wonders if this was the dumbest idea he ever had. He was being easy and confident and probably kind of a dick about it to Nathan, earlier, but Nathan can't feel. That's a hell of an obstacle to overcome. What if he can't?
Duke thinks he knows, because he's made a lifetime of watching Nathan, and the ways Nathan achieves contact with the world. There's the way he savours each bite of food, rolling it slowly around the whole of his mouth; the quiet delight that can sometimes cross his face as he inhales the air and lifts his face up to explore a scent, or how he'll pass a coffee or a beer below his nose when he isn't drinking from the cup; the way he watches the clouds or trees or, hell, the damn pavement, like there are incredible worlds lurking in the detail. Or how, sometimes, he just stops, right where he is, and listens.
Pleasure, though, doesn't necessarily transfer into 'pleasure'.
If he's wrong, Duke thinks grimly, then he'll look like a dick and he'll probably deserve it, for thinking he can call Nathan's problems better than the guy who's lived with them a chunk of his life.
But then, it seems to him no-one else so far has ever tried. He doesn't, obviously, know every detail of the Jess Minion fling, but he does know that relationship wasn't allowed to get very far before the poor woman fled town. Which means it is way past time that somebody fucking tried. If he has to be the one who tries and fails, just to prove it maybe wasn't ever possible after all, then at least he'll have that much going for him.
He scowls, resolve reclaimed, and glares around at the boxes and junk he's about to give their marching orders.
He has work to do.
"Parker," Nathan thinks of saying, a hundred times that afternoon, "I may have temporarily gone insane and propositioned Duke. We have a date this evening." The thing is, the likeliest option his imagination offers up as her response is a delighted hug and "You go for it!" He lacks courage enough to try proving this untrue.
Instead, the day goes by in a surreal haze, and if she notices him being strange, or quieter than usual, she probably writes it down to the highs and lows of yesterday. It isn't even dishonest to let her think that.
It's a quiet day, mostly, the kind a new or temporary Chief needs a few of to get the rhythm of things, but he can't take best advantage of it. He does some paperwork - his paperwork has multiplied a hundredfold with the damn promotion - then Parker drags him out after lunch and they check the docks over for the three fugitives in the bulletins from Bangor. Beattie gives them a heads-up on a sighting of what sounds like August Capresi's boat, which might earn them a few points regionally. He can hope.
He doesn't see Duke around. Capresi is very dangerous - once merely a thief, now wanted for multiple murders, his greed sabotaged by his temper after he executed five men over a job gone sour - so Nathan tries hard to keep his mind on his work.
He already explored his hope that if he took over dad's job he'd get Haven that SWAT team, and has been forced to conclude that it isn't happening on this budget. He told Parker, who laughed at him. He still considers it decidedly unfair for that sort of action to get left to a former FBI agent who now might not even have been through FBI training and a guy who needs to do special exercises just to maintain the fine motor control that lets his unfeeling hands use his gun.
The day crawls its way through. Parker suggests using the evening to talk through case notes, forcing him to admit he has plans with Duke. "Ah. Man-plans. I guess this is the drawback to getting my two best friends on good terms with each other." She gives a squashed smile and nods to herself broodingly. She throws a few comments his way about drinking beer and watching baseball being the masculine equivalent of ice-cream and makeovers. It occurs to him belatedly that her evening of case notes might have been her way of offering comfort and companionship.
If he backs out now, Duke will forever know that he backed out. Nathan realises he's effectively trapped himself.
He makes his peace with Parker, after a fashion, by giving her a bunch of stuff to tackle on Capresi and his buddies, which is like candy for her, and he will never understand that. Now that he's technically her boss, although he can't imagine actually giving her an order if it happens to be something she doesn't want to do anyway, he feels uncomfortably like her dealer doing that sort of thing. Stop working, he wants to tell her. You're making me look bad.
As the end of the day nears, Nathan makes a very slow stride down to the marina, steps dragging fatefully to the place the Cape Rouge is moored, feeling for all the world like he could be heading into his last gunfight.
He's a bit early, but Duke's out in the open air waiting for him. As he spies Nathan, he stands up almost comically fast and takes a gulp from the wine glass on the table next to him, movements stiffer than usual and less certain. Like he has to make himself do it, he walks forward to greet Nathan. Nathan climbs slowly aboard, feeling the point of no return as his feet touch down on the deck. He slides his eyes around. They tend not to want to stick on Duke. "Well, I'm-"
Duke grabs and kisses him, pulling him in with both hands and not giving him much choice in the matter. Nathan has to stifle his initial impulse to at least try to protest and pull away, remember that this was the point, that he sought this out himself. But he can't feel it. Yesterday, he would have, another crushing reminder that he does everything too late. Today, he can't get any pleasure from his own body, that's something which can only be there for the other person to take-
On that thought, he almost does pull away. Then other information starts to flow in from his senses; how great Duke smells, and tastes - the intensity of flavour on his tongue has been sitting far too many years in someone's cellar to be opened lightly. It's almost involuntary when Nathan dares to chase the taste deeper, and when they finally move to part, bends Duke's head down into his shoulder and presses his nose to into the mop of black hair. "God. What is that?"
Duke just chuckles, and Nathan barely notices the buttons being unpicked on his shirt. No-one really needs to do that with Duke, who's always already half-dressed. Who pats Nathan's shoulders, then shakes him, briskly, unfelt. "Could you at least try to be a little less stiff? Otherwise none of this is going to go much of anywhere."
Nathan blinks back. He's... trying.
Duke sees it, shakes his head, and smacks himself. "Sorry. Sorry, it's been a strange afternoon. Come on inside-"
Nathan looks down at his hand, which Duke has just taken, and although he can't feel that contact, even seeing it is pretty staggering. He's being taken by the hand and led. What the hell, Duke?
"I, uh, I thought I'd take the Cape Rouge out just beyond the harbour," Duke shares, uncomfortable for some reason. He has to let go of Nathan's hand for them to negotiate the steps down into the galley. "The forecast is mild and, uh, more privacy out there. Less chance of interruption."
Nathan supposes that's a pretty good idea, in case Parker decides to turn up and see how they're doing. He nods. Duke puts a glass in his hand and disappears, leaving him to stare around the big open-plan cabin and what Duke's done to it with an amazement that just doesn't where to look first. He doesn't feel the subtler movements of the boat leaving its berth, just when they're strong enough to interfere with his balance. He manages to save the wine bottle, once, and stick the cork back in and wedge it somewhere it won't take a tumble and waste all of that wonder.
Really, he can't figure out whether this moment of quiet before the storm is what he needs or precisely what he doesn't. And there's all this - this - this, that he's been left to look at. What's Duke thinking? What was he thinking? How is there any chance this works at all? Him, and Duke... what the hell are they going to talk about? Past mistakes, that's what. A thirty-year parade of wrongs on both sides.
Though he remembers, then, the taste of Duke's mouth over his; before Jess, before he ever discovered he could feel Parker. The first chip at his years of isolation. He finds himself starting to smile as he plays his nose above the rim of his wine glass, though the smile freezes and stops as soon as he registers it.
It takes a reasonable while for Duke to finish his readjustments to the boat, because you can't take chances with the sea. When he comes down, finally, there's a suggestion in the lag of his steps that a little of something else might've been contributing. It's gratifying for Nathan to know he's not the only one.
"Candlelight and soft music?" Nathan asks as Duke's steps slow. "Is that how you think of me?" It doesn't come out like he wanted. He meant to be teasing, but intended it softer. He watches a muted flinch run through the other man's form and thinks he's well on his way to screwing this up already. "It's... sweet," he adds, probably not taking back much ground, especially because, in all fairness, he does also have to admit, "Disturbing."
Duke pokes a finger at him. "Shut up. There is one thing you need to do this evening. Turn it off. This mask, this untouchable-man wall of crap. I hate that guy so friggin' much. I know that's not you, you know that's not you. You live in the four senses you have left, so that's how we're going to do this. The rest... turn it off. For now."
Nathan slowly sits down and sets the wine glass on the table, staring at it, trying to regroup and figure out how to respond, how to even think.
"I hope that blank look is you turning it off," Duke says, a bit anxiously.
Nathan figures out that he doesn't know how to react because according to that theory, everything he does next is wrong. He could probably let Duke in a bit more, he concedes as he ponders. The rest, it doesn't have a switch.
"Shit," says Duke, and he looks up for the cause of the brief, explosive expletive. "All of that sounded better in my head."
"It... would have to?" Nathan hazards, cranking an eyebrow.
"I'm a dick," says Duke. Pauses. If he's waiting for disagreement, he'll be a while. "Can we rewind this?"
"How about we not?" The familiar territory they're on now is a hell of a lot easier on Nathan's nerves. He kicks out the chair that's opposite his at the small table. That flick of one foot is a lot more precision judgement of distance, angles and calculation than most would believe, and a minor miracle he doesn't kick it right over.
Duke watches the chair rock a few times, then walks over and sits, snagging the bottle of wine from where Nathan left it. He drinks out of the bottle, weathering Nathan's faint headshake and disapproval. "We shared germs already, remember?" He looks around and smiles and sags back, the bottle askew between his knees. "I have been killing myself over this today."
That is demonstrably true. Firstly, Nathan's seldom seen him so jittery - for Duke, the man's a nervous wreck. Then, there are the candles in thick glass jars, and the ambient lighting from some kind of amazing lamp of orange and gold shapes that rotates, casting its long shadows and soft glows around the room. The music, which he doesn't recognise, but it's accomplished and pleasant, classical but not intrusive. God damn scents. The wine. The food. "It's a shame. All your food will be cold," Nathan says, realising, poking the covered dishes, which aren't steaming.
"No." Duke shakes his head and starts removing covers. "I may have made the odd miscalculation, but not that one. Everything here is meant to be eaten at room temperature."
Nathan blinks. How the hell did he even think of that? Nobody thinks of that. "That's amazing." It comes out without consult with his brain. He reaches out a picks up a morsel. Seafood and spices, wrapped in crisp leaves. The parcel explodes on his tongue and slides down far too easily, leaving him breathless.
"Good?" asks Duke, eyes shining. Nathan looks down and sees Duke's hand, on the tabletop, covering his own. There are other offerings on the table, too, little crisp breads topped with pate, some rolled up little balls that smell like they involve cheese. "Want to share?" There's still a hint of doubt in his voice, like Nathan's going to walk away even now. But Duke takes a gulp from the wine bottle anyway, and leans over the table, offering everything, even though, perhaps, he has every reason to believe he'll be refused in the light of past example. Nathan can see that the main course on offer here was always supposed to be each other.
He accepts the wine, letting the taste guide him as his mouth explores its unconventional goblet.
If he were Nathan, Duke thinks he'd have gone crazy long ago, not being able to feel things like... say, to choose a wholly random example, this. Although he doesn't seem to be letting it stop him at the moment. Duke always theorised that there had to be the worst kind of desperation buried inside Nathan, and even the damn crazy, when he went crazy that time, had a tightness, a rigidness, an odd control. Duke doesn't know that he's wrong, exactly, but there's no wildness or loss of control in what he's seeing, anything like what he was so sure would lurk underneath the surface if the barriers broke. It's gentler than that. Just a man going into his senses; a languid passivity he didn't expect. Nathan Wuornos; stone on the outside, marshmallow on the inside. Actually, that he could have guessed at.
They both quietly reached the conclusion that the chairs are only a waste of time. The table was in the way and they're both too tall and too heavy to be climbing on the furniture. So Duke pins Nathan, standing, against the wall, while exploring the skin of his neck beneath his collar, kind of wondering how he got from completely failing at seduction to this actually working, and how he manages the next step, which is manoeuvring this into the bedroom. Though he got the impression Nathan walked on board expecting to start off there, which is nuts.
Evi he could pick up and carry. He's afraid if he tried that here he'd pull something, though he can feel Nathan's hand gripping tighter in the small of his back and has a weird suspicion that if he leaves it too long, Nathan might try that.
There've been maybe thirty seconds of non-reaction by the time Nathan shakes himself and Duke by extension, pulls apart somewhat, and pats him on the chin to raise his attention. "Duke. I'm not getting anything from this."
It's like he's some creature specially designed with the ability to kill any moment. Duke suffers some minor mortification adding up what he was doing against Nathan's problem and comes up, damn. After the stress of the afternoon and his crazy planning, he actually fell into it and let his instincts take over. Unfortunately, Nathan not being like every other person in the world and therefore every other person Duke's ever slept with, instinct is not his friend here. That's why he spent so long figuring out the new guidebook, because the usual rules and the usual map don't apply.
Nathan has a faintly stricken look in his eyes like he's thinking this is his fault. "You're doing fine," Duke says. "Let me worry about things like that. Here-" It's as good an opening as any to move this over. He takes Nathan's hand and pulls him along, guiding him like a blind man through the door into the room where Duke sleeps.
"You-" Nathan chokes. "You have a mirror on the ceiling above your bed? Really, Duke?"
"As of this afternoon, I do," he says, a bit sourly. He had to move the bed to do it, and it was a bitch of a chore. He supposes it does look... strange. He's clustered other mirrors around, too, that he previously had elsewhere, wedging them on surrounding surfaces. "You... need to see what you're doing, right? What we're doing?"
Mostly, Nathan looks surly, disbelieving and a bit intimidated. His eyes track the mirrors nervously, watching their movements get echoed six times. Okay, so maybe the mirrors are a step too far. The lighting is soft but plentiful, because Duke went for the old-fashioned lamps he had about the boat and just festooned them everywhere. It's possible Nathan doesn't want to be reminded of who he's doing this with, Duke supposes, or maybe he doesn't like looking at his own body, but either way he doesn't look happy.
"I can take the mirrors out. Or we can go back in there," Duke says quickly, hoping like hell he's not scared Nathan into retreat so they have this embarrassment hanging between them forever, or at least until the next time fate finds something worse.
"No." Nathan stops him as he starts to duck past. "I'm... getting used to the idea." He slips a hand around Duke's back. Duke watches him watch himself do it in a wall mirror behind. Thinks that might, in a weird way, be the sexiest thing he's ever seen, until Nathan flicks his tongue nervously over his lower lips and Duke knows that was. He might have a lot of that kind of redefining to do tonight, if this doesn't all go screamingly, horribly wrong.
Nathan's nervousness is preparatory to action. He starts sliding Duke's shirt off his shoulders, eyes distracted by half a dozen echoes of the motion. "This is... too weird..." he shuts his eyes. "Perverse." If he thinks that already, the rest of the night really is in trouble. "...It's working." He lowers his mouth to trail it down Duke's collarbone, mimicking what, a while ago, he'd attempted for Nathan. The end of the bed hits the back of Duke's knees and before he knows it he's sprawling, Nathan climbing after. "I don't even believe you thought up all this crap."
Nathan's voice is shaking. This is what it looks like when the mask crumbles. It's still Nathan, still burdened with a body he can't feel. It's just this Nathan learning how to cut loose, as he never has.
"I've got some, uh, flavoured oil, somewhere," Duke says, reaching for the nightstand and pretending he's just remembered that, casually, because it is kind of embarrassing how obvious this is making how much he's thought about this. "For skin," he quickly adds, realising what that sounds like. "I thought the, uh, the taste might help."
"Forget it." Fingers curl around his wrist, pull it back. "I'd rather-" I'd rather taste you is too much for the Wuornos reserve, and he lets it hang a moment before finishing, in a rasp, "Just this." His breathing is sharp and there's a flush to his skin. Duke sneaks a look down and sees the bulge in the front of Nathan's jeans. Which is - interesting. Only one of the reasons being confirmation that yes, Nathan can actually do that. "You'll need to." Nathan stops, temporarily. "To guide me. Tell me if I'm being too rough. Whatever it is that we actually do." He eyes Duke, waiting.
"Getting rid of the clothes is usually a good start." Duke rolls over and crawls back across the bed, keeping low, nose at the level of that enticing bulge. "Let me help you with that." He tugs the button loose with his teeth, then hooks and drags down the zipper, stopping to tongue at what he can feel through the fabric along the way. Nathan can't feel it, but he can see him, and his face, at least, looks like a man about to explode.
They do inevitably have to pause for the practical aspects of shedding clothes. Mens' shoes are bastards, Duke thinks. Ladies' shoes he can handle, pretty and sexy and not laced and knotted all to hell, usually quitting the foot with no more encouragement than a good, sharp tug. Besides, they're not matched with Nathan's skinny damn jeans that won't come off his legs short of a tug of war.
Then they're both falling back onto the sheets, naked now, and Duke manages to be on top this time. Not that he's making a competition of that or anything. He grinds their bodies together, and is nearly undone early by the feel of Nathan's cock sliding against his own. He's never done this before with a guy that he knows, he realises. Just party stuff. Fun. Evi's whims and being an open-minded guy, and all that.
He twists his upper body higher, creating a line of sight so that Nathan can see what's going on. It puts a strain on him that's hard to maintain, but he can manage a few minutes. He wraps his free hand around both their cocks. Nathan moves to match each stroke of Duke's hand. His eyes are wide and there's a glossy sheen over his skin. By all rights, it shouldn't be attractive. There are more than enough mirrors for Duke to know he doesn't look any better. Honestly? He doesn't know how he feels about all the damn mirrors. He's not used to seeing every detail of himself like this and he'd have been just as happy to remove them when Nathan faltered. But, if they help, they stay.
He doesn't ever remember getting this stressed about sex. But he's had the urge to muss Nathan up for years, before he ever pinned down exactly what it was. When his supporting arm gives out, Duke collapses back on top of Nate. Nathan's body is hard, bony angles, taut muscle and tough skin, entirely different to anyone he's ever had before. Nathan's hair rasps against his hand as he pulls him in for another kiss.
Nathan's hands stray somewhere down in their tangle of erections and knees, but there's too much in the way, it doesn't show up in the mirrors. Duke feels the brush of a hand against him. He experiences the moment when Nate discovers he can use the reaction in his face as a reflection and repeats the action, fingers trailing across once more and then finding the shaft.
Duke's breath catches. "Not too hard," he cautions, a hitch in his speech sending the words all over the place. The clutch softens, but Nathan's thumb finds his tip, stroking at the edge of his foreskin. Nathan's a monster. How the hell is he doing that, doubly blind?
"Does that godawful noise you just made mean it's good?" Nathan asks wryly. His voice has gone lower than usual, coming from somewhere in his belly. He seems to have settled someplace deep, where everything's levelled out, and it's obvious he's not nervous anymore, not worried about his ability to perform or any mistakes his condition might cause him to make.
"It means you kill me," says Duke.
An indeterminate length of time later, he's sliding down that hard, angled body with the intent to take Nathan in his mouth. He thinks that should make a pretty amazing show for the mirrors, for Nathan's hyperactive eyes. Their skin glows warm in the reflections and the lamplight, and funnily, he's ceased to be embarrassed about the mirrors now.
"Duke." Hands catch his hair and stop him at navel-level. Nathan's shoulders roll impressively, compact muscle shifting as he half-rises. "We can do more than that, if you want to." A correction: "I want you to."
And suddenly it's complicated again. Duke had thought about trying to take it that far. Kind of dismissed it because, well, Nathan, and Nathan's masculinity, which is already permanently a bit bruised, and he really didn't fancy testing it the other way, with the guy who can't feel how much force he's applying, when he's only done that the one time before himself. He'd put the thought to one side with a kind of envious, lustful glance. "You want to...?" Maybe he's, you know, talking about something else.
"I want you inside me," Nathan says. It almost causes Duke to come on the spot, just to hear him spit it out that blunt.
"You've been under a lot of stress lately, Nate," he laughs off gently, uncertain. "Your dad, and Max Hansen, and Audrey's thing... the whole shitstorm of yesterday. Maybe we just fool around today, leave that one for another time?"
Nathan looks faintly cross, and yeah, there's a need to remember who he's dealing with here, even if Nate hasn't been acting too much like the twitchy guy he usually is. "I know what I want. I need..." Nathan trails off, looks away, and falls afoul of the mirrors.
"To feel something?" Duke picks up, again. "You know I could hurt you and neither of us would know it."
"That's true making breakfast." Then, softer, but with a dangerous insistence, "You won't hurt me."
Duke kind of translates that as, I don't care, but he's done making excuses. He wants this and Nathan wants this, and if he examines the teeth of the gift horse any further, he knows full well it'll get pissy at him and bolt, meaning all the work of tonight so far will be undone. If the only way past this one is through it, better at least make the most of it while he has the chance. How righteous can he be expected to be?
He slides his hand lightly over Nathan's thigh, angled in what is one stubborn fuck-me-now demand, and watches small hairs twitch and goose-bumps form where his fingers have been. "Hey. Your skin knows I'm touching you, even if you don't."
A blue eye cast over one shoulder looks, then turns away dismissively, or maybe just wants him to believe it's dismissive. "Doctors have measured that response. It... it's not feeling. Just reaction. Some level of nerve involvement that knows there's touch, but it doesn't go anywhere that lets me really feel it... Probably more to do with balance, kinaesthetic sense, they said. Or I'd be screwed, basically."
"Funny you should choose that wording." Duke splays out his hand to cup the cheek of Nathan's ass, and thinks he might have a little more to work with than he'd dared hope. "...Can you reach that pot of oil, huh? It does have its other uses."
It takes long enough to do the preparation that he might dare try and get a few obvious jokes out of it, later, depending on the mood of his favourite tight-ass. Nathan doesn't seem to give a damn, just lies back and stares around at the shifting lamplight and the reflection of their bodies in that glow, wholly relaxed. Duke has to conclude that Nathan surrendered to something, coming here today, and neither of them can guess at how he will feel about it tomorrow. But for now, he takes Duke's unoccupied hand from where it's still resting on his thigh and plays their fingers together. Watching the shadows dance around the walls in the shifting light, Duke melts and can't think about any lurking tomorrows.
Then they're finally ready and he's pushing Nathan's legs wide and crouching between them. His erection bobs against Nathan's softening one. Nathan gives his own slight nod and rolls his hips upwards. Duke thinks he's the one who might not survive this. He leans over and grips the side of Nathan's face and kisses him again, just to make sure, but neatly sidestepping the fatal mistake of actually asking, again, if he's sure.
Then he's inside Nathan, sliding in so smooth, so easy, and maybe he didn't need to fuss so much with the preparation after all. Nathan's eyes fix, amazed, on the spot where their bodies join. Even though he doesn't feel it, and Duke knows he doesn't feel it, he picks up his cues visually, or maybe in some small part from that subconscious awareness of touch, and he manages to move his body with Duke's naturally, the two of them building a decent rhythm.
Duke sees sparks in his vision and the world threatening to scatter into crazy confetti at each tight thrust. There is the odd moment of ow, stop and not that way and general ohfuckingHELL, but as these things go, and the impediment they're working with considered, it goes fucking great.
It's not his best performance ever, but then there's kind of a lot going on, and Nathan doesn't have much clue how to do this to make things last. Duke comes like a smack in the head, a sharp, sudden shock, and sags over Nathan, breathing hard, face pressed into the angle of his neck. Nathan puts a goddamned arm around his shoulder to support him and Duke finds those blue eyes looking steadily into his.
"Aw, man." Half drunk on sex, Duke lurches and clumsily pulls out, so he can manoeuvre himself around. He means to use his mouth to finish Nathan off - hoping like hell he can because wasn't that the main purpose of this whole exercise? - but virtually all it takes is the first touch of his grabbing hand and Nathan's there. Duke watches his head roll back slightly and his eyes close, his lips part. One shuddering breath. It's not earth-shattering, clearly. But... it may be subtle, but just as clearly, something got through.
The same breath whistles through his teeth as it comes out, and Nathan's eyes blink wide again. His mouth unravels into a near smile. "I... didn't feel that," he says, in breathless bursts. "But I feel great." He moves, unknotting the angles of his frame and sprawling up to the pillows.
Duke barks a laugh. Just as that body can bruise and bleed and even die without him knowing it, it can do this, too. He marvels at it. Whoever knew that Nathan Wuornos was a working model of a human being? The thought reminds him of all the times he insinuated that wasn't true, and he falls on Nathan with his mouth, apologising wordlessly to every scrap of skin he can reach until Nathan snorts at him and shoves him off for being ridiculous.
They lie side by side awhile, filling an unusually comfortable silence with small touches, and less daring forays and explorations, and then Duke gets up to check the Cape Rouge's position and snuff out the candles in the galley that he doesn't want to leave burning unattended. When he comes back, Nathan's changed the sheets and is in the bathroom, washing. He rejoins Duke a few minutes later, climbing back into bed with his underwear on and his unfastened shirt loosely hanging over his shoulders. Well, whatever. After where his dick's just been, Duke will grant Nathan his skivvies and his shirt without comment.
After all, he does climb back into bed.
End Part 1