A/N: Based on the song Fightin' Words by Trace Adkins. My spellcheck is going nuts cuz of Ellis's accent. Learn more gooder grammer Ay-lus :/
Ellis hadn't stopped talking since they'd left the safe room, and the conman had lasted a whole hour without screaming at him to kindly "SHUT THE HELL UP, ELLIS!" Granted he was sort of busy trying not to die during that hour, but come on, he deserved a freaking medal. And he damn well deserved to blow up on the kid after all that, too.
Nick wasn't quite sure what had sparked it. He'd been saying anything and everything to get that stupid hick to shut up. What Nick hadn't been counting on was Ellis jumping him. Got a few punches on him, too, because 'What the fuck!? Ellis never fights back!', but by the time Nick realized what was happening, Coach had a solid hold on the thrashing hick.
"You sunuvabitch! Lemme go, Coach! Ah'm gonna kill 'im!"
It took him a while to figure out just what had made the usually passive mechanic completely lose his shit. Okay, so maybe calling Ellis' mom a loud mouthed whore wasn't a very good way to get him to shut up, but damned if he'd apologize. Ellis was the one who couldn't keep his big redneck mouth closed.
Nick spit at him, unhappy to see that there was quite a bit of blood mixed in with the saliva. No doubt he had a split lip, probably a black eye too. For a second, Nick thought Coach was going punch him himself. 'Well screw him. Ellis can shove it.' Nick wiped the back of his hand across his lips to get the blood off, turning his back on the other three.
Once Ellis had calmed down enough not to start throwing punches again, Coach let him go, and by then, Nick had already gotten pretty far ahead. Rochelle went to give Ellis a comforting pat on the back, but she retreated without a word when Ellis glared flaming, poisoned daggers at her.
The rest of the day passed by normally (as normally as possible anyway), though there was hesitance to assist whenever Nick got smoked, pounced, ridden, or charged. By the time he'd stumbled into the next saferoom, a rather small two-bedroom house, Nick was nursing an impressive amount of bruises, and acid burns. The conman limped over to the pile of first aid in the corner of the living room. Only to be stopped by a rough grip on his arm.
He turned his head and lo and behold, that callous grip belonged to Ellis. "What the hell do you want, Overalls? I need to patch myself up if you haven't noticed," Nick growled. Ellis gave him a grin, a slightly menacing one that unnerved the conman more than he'd like to admit. "Hey Coach," Ellis called over his shoulder, "Ya think you an' Ro can find us somethin' ta eat 'round here? Me an' Nick're gonna talk real quick." Coach looked between the two hesitantly. "Ah'right youngin'," he agreed, "But if I hear any yellin' I'm comin' in."
Nick really wanted to argue, but Ellis had already pulled him into one of the bedrooms. The hick shut and locked the door before Nick could get a word out. "Look here you inbred little–" Ellis wrapped a hand around his neck and slammed him down to the floor. "No, Nick, you look here," Ellis hissed, "You kin call me whatever you want. Ah don' care. But you say anythin' 'bout mah ma," at this the hick's grip tightened even more, not even affected by the older man's hands clawing at his arm, "And yer gonna see a side a me tha'chu really don' wanna see. Ya got that?" Nick nodded, desperate for air and genuinely terrified. Ellis snarled at him one more time before releasing his neck and going back to the living room.
The dark-haired man coughed violently and braced a hand against the wall nearest him until the black spots in his vision faded. Nick wasn't sure how long he sat there trying to catch his breath, but there was one thing he was certain of; he was never going to mention Ellis' mother again, because next time he might not let go.
A/N: Fic can also be found on Tumblr and Deviant Art. I intended for this to be a one-shot, but someone asked for an update so I'm working on a second chapter.