Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is set directly after the scene in 5x15 when Michonne knocks Rick out after the fight with Pete. This fic is a Nicholas/Tobin fic and was inspired by the actions of Nicholas during the scene in question when Rick turns the gun on the crowd. I was very intrigued by the way it seemed like Nicholas' gut reaction was to stop Tobin from moving forward and draw him back – hand on his chest, then down to his arm – to a point where their hands actually tangled together. Considering Nicholas is a character that looks out for himself first, I was very interested in this 'instinctive' reaction and wanted to explore it further.
Warnings: Spoilers for 5x15, meant to fit in directly after the events of that episode. *Contains: slash, oral sex, hand job, mutual masturbation, mild-power play, adult language, adult content, possible consent issues – mild dub con, references to a semi-established relationship, rough oral sex. With the finale in mind, the bulk of this was written before 5x16 where it was revealed that Tobin has a family. As such, this fic could technically be read two different ways. Either was it was intended, with Tobin being a single man in the ASZ. But it would also work if you read it from the perspective of Tobin having found himself in the position of committing an extramarital affair.
Gridlocked (on a dusty avenue)
Chapter One
"When the evacuations started, T-Dog drove his church van to the home of every senior he knew just in case they needed a ride. He saved my ass a thousand times. He wasn't just a good guy. He was the best."
"Got bit closing the gate. If he hadn't done that…"
"It could have been Maggie. …It's wrong but… I'd trade any number of people for one of ours any day."
"What was that all about?" he demanded, nearly rebounding the smaller man right into the opposing wall as they collided around the curve of the basement door. Not exactly sure why he was following him in the first place other than the fact that he was shuddering with it. Fueled by that muted, burning little spark of something that was smoldering in the very heart of him.
Desperate to know. Desperate to be right, or even wrong.
Desperate to just have it out with him, once and for all.
Desperate to understand. Desperate to-
"Get off me!" Nicholas growled, voice pitching at the end as the man slapped him off, angry but not quite meeting his eyes as the door that led up to the main part of the house – the side Nicholas and his son shared - slammed closed. "Christ, Tobin! You were there! What the hell did it look like? Captain America went awol. That's what fucking happened. I swear to god Aaron and Eric were out of their minds letting-"
Their fingers had brushed.
He remembered that much.
He knew because he'd had his hands out, palms up when Rick had drawn his gun and Nicholas had-well, he'd almost grabbed it. The gesture a mess of mirrored callouses and honest concern. His skin remembered every inch of it. The unmistakable rasp of the man's inner palm sliding over his – dry heat on dry heat. It had prickled across the tiny hairs in a way he'd never experienced. The sensation itself had been conflicted, somewhere between pleasure and rage. It was masculine, adrenaline-soaked and affirming in the same way as it had been unapologetic and coarse. It was too much and not enough. Worst of all, it was something he didn't realized he was craving until the moment was over and the man was already pulling himself away – jerking and alert.
The sad part was that while he'd probably remember it until the day he died, Nicholas was already a hundred miles past it and here he was, clingin' to the dregs.
"That's not what I meant and you know it," he returned firmly. Unwilling to let this one go as Nicholas's spine arched – affronted and cornered like an angry tom cat. It was such a far cry from the honest emotion that had been there only minutes before that the difference nearly gave him whiplash.
"What? Pulling you back? Stopping you from lumbering right into that psycho's face and getting yourself killed? What? You think I don't care now? That it?" Nicholas returned snidely, arms crossed. Spitting mad without any real reason as he was left scrabbling to understand the switch.
He hated this.
He hated feeling like this, like-
"You made that pretty damn clear before you left for that cluster fuck of a run," he shot back, voice so hard he barely recognized the hurt the words were steeped in as they aired out – damning and close as Nicholas turned in surprise.
"What really happened out there, Nick?" he asked quietly, slow-cooking inside his jacket as the smaller man yanked on the frayed cuffs of his sleeves. Dipping his head low, the gesture just about as ill-timed as it could be as Nicholas opened his mouth, wrestling with a bunch of words that never quite made it to his lips.
"Ever since you got back you haven't been right," he challenged, rolling with it as the words came easier. Not giving his common sense the chance to catch up and trip him at the source as he followed the man around the curve of the pool table, hyper aware of the way stubby hands were gripping tight – ghost-white and strained – around the edge. "You can tell me, you know. You've trusted me before. None of that has changed."
"What do you want, Tobin?"
The silence was caustic – possible. Like the bitter aftertaste of heartburn spading up from an already abused throat. What did he want? He figured he'd known the answer to that once. Before all this. Not just before the dead ones, but after. Back when he'd had a better handle on himself – on what he wanted - or maybe it was a worse one. These days he wasn't so sure. Ignorance had probably been bliss when it came to the tangled ball of shit he was currently trying his best to wade through.
The center of his chest throbbed. Still host to the warm weight of the hand Nicholas had flung out on the street. Spreading out like living tendrils. Like the embodiment of a reminder he didn't really need. But didn't know how to say. It was the reason why he was here. The reason why he'd followed the grumpy asshole halfway across the god damned town when everyone else was gathering in the center square.
The words were there. Teetering and real before he swallowed them, thinking better of it. He shook his head, uncertain. Wanting nothing more than to just lie. To say something easy. Something that would let them both off the hook. Something that would lessen the vice in his chest rather than ratchet it up another notch.
But the truth was, he'd never been very good at lying. Guile, even for the best of reasons, just wasn't something he had in him. Some people though, like Nicholas, took to it naturally. Slipping into it like a second skin whenever it suited them. Whenever it was to their advantage, or even just convenient.
But not him - never him.
He wasn't that lucky.
He didn't realize the man had moved until he was pushing off from the wall, closing the space between with a wide-legged sway that had him immediately on the defensive. Retreating automatically – instinctively – as Nicholas prowled forward.
"I know what you want," Nicholas breathed, rough in that way he hadn't realized he liked until the man had first come onto him all those months ago, crowding him into a dark corner of the watch tower and turning off his brain with his tongue.
The breath of air he expelled was shaky, more of a huff than anything. Self-depreciating and almost impotent as he ran a hand through his hair. Watching the man through shuttered lids as something in him gave. Letting himself be hunted as Nicholas advanced around the bend of the table.
"Glad one of us does…"
Nicholas' grin was all teeth and no warmth.
But his dick firmed up all the same.
Pavlovian response.
"What, you think I don't know you by now?" Nicholas demanded, voice gravel-low and darkly alluring as his shoulders kissed the white-wash. Feeling the chill of the wall at his back as the smaller man looked him over – up and down with an appreciative smirk that once upon a time might have had his ego on point. Back before the world had trampled him flat and left him wanting – coiling and restless inside his own skin. Wrestling with the distinct impression that there was something he was missing every time he settled into yet another doomed relationship with a lovely, well-meaning woman who saw potential behind all that restless shyness and willingness to sacrifice his own happiness more often than he probably should.
"You're too selfless for your own good. You know that?" Nicholas continued, throaty and rough as a fission of warmth trickled down his spine. Feeling every inch as the smaller man pressed up against him – somewhere between a threat and a promise as surprisingly strong hands followed the slope of his shoulders. Feeling him out, just like he always did, even as his hands hung limp at his sides, twitching.
He knew better than to touch.
Better than to try.
That was the first lesson Nicholas had taught him.
"You volunteer for runs. Duty assignments. You give up the first position of power Deanna tosses at you just because you finally grew a brain and started thinking about your own hide, for once," Nicholas jeered, eyes hard. Reflecting in the lighted dark of the basement as somewhere outside a chorus of angry voices rose and fell from the direction of the center square.
"Looking out for yourself doesn't make you a bad person, Tobin. It makes you a person. A living, breathing person. A survivor. Sure as hell beats the alternative, don't you think?" Nicholas uttered, relentless, distracting him with the hard press of his palm as he forced his shoulders back against the wall – reminding him where he wanted him before taking a step back. Ignoring his jacket in favor of making short work of his checkered button-up.
He sucked in a shuddering breath when Nicholas' fingers raked through the soft down that crowned his stomach. Coasting through the dark brown hairs before tracing the waistband of his jeans with a confidence that – not for the first time - had him struggling between what he wanted and what he was comfortable giving up as the man's hardness throbbed into the crux of his groin.
He bit his lip, chewing down a curse. Almost pathetically grateful for it when the man ground up against him, not quite able to muffle a groan of his own. Rubbing him through his jeans and clawing desperately at his side as Nicholas arranged the jut of his hip the way he wanted and went to town. Hissing at the friction the same time as that clever little hand worked him through his jeans. Cupping and rolling until he was jerking into the man's palm.
Nicholas wanted it too.
Wanted him.
Funny how that fact calmed him nowadays.
The first time he hadn't been sure. It had been so quick, alley-dirty and furtive. Leaving him reeling, limp-dicked and pants around his ankles. Trying to figure out what the hell had just happened while Nicholas was nothing but dust in the wind. Nearly getting him caught as Olivia started down the pantry stairs with a load of boxes, startling him into action.
He hadn't known what to think. What to do. How to react to the thousand and one emotions that'd followed getting slammed into a wall and having his brain sucked right out his dick. He'd only flagged him down in passing, wanting to trade a duty rotation so that he could meet Steve, Barry and Francine for poker night. But before he could really register the switch the man was on his knees and barking orders at him like some sort of drill sergeant.
He'd never- well.
He hadn't said no, though.
He'd never told him to stop.
Hell, he still didn't know if the man was some sort of sadist - getting his ya-ya's from tearing someone's orgasm clear out of them - or if the first couple of times he'd just come in his pants. All he knew was that every time they did this, the rules the man had set down in the beginning blurred just a little bit more.
"You think Rick, Abraham and all their little friends are any different?" Nicholas demanded, tugging pointedly on his belt buckle – exaggerating the jingle of metal on metal as his dick throbbed at the tell.
"I know they are," he grated, gritting his teeth as the man squeezed him hard through his jeans, yanking the zipper down with a brutally dry sounding rasp. "Abraham proved that much in the construction yard, he-"
"I don't give a shit what he did. When the chips are down, when you're down to the last bottle of water, last chance of food, last everything. They will bury each and every one of us to save them and theirs," Nicholas growled, whipping his belt clear out of the loops as blunt fingers dug punishingly into his hips. "They are still alive, they survived out there, in this. What do you think that says about them? About how far they are willing to go to keep breathing?!"
He got distracted when the man pulled down his jeans and mouthed at the tent of his briefs. Dampening the cotton with tentative little licks that had him squirming as the fabric started to stick.
"This isn't-isn't about them. It is about me," he started, breathing already uneven. "I-I know who I am. Who I want to be. Who I am trying to be."
"Bullshit! You barely know what's happening inside your own head and you think that line will work on me?" Nicholas bit off, using his thumbs to ease under the elastic of his briefs. Looking up at him through drooping lashes as his breathing hitched at the sight. "I am not here for your sentiment, Tobin. Save that for Deanna, save it for someone who cares."
"Then what are you here for?" he snapped, biting down on his fist as his dick met the open air, twitching and jerking with a strand of pre-cum drooling eagerly from the fat tip as Nicholas crooned – deep-throated and low – in appreciation.
Oh god.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – There will be one more chapter, stay tuned.
Reference: Thank you to gunslingerdixon for providing the dialogue between Glenn and Hershel in "Say the Word" to set the stage for this two-shot.
