Title: An Ode to Marbles (PG ending)
Author: Paula K.
Category: Slash
Rating: PG
Fandom: Knockaround Guys
Pairing: Johnny Marbles and Taylor Reese
Feedback email: Homilessy...
Warnings, Spoilers: big time movie spoilers!
Disclaimer: They aren`t mine. The talented guys Brian Koppelman and
David Levien own these wiseguys - lucky bastards! (they also brought
us another slashy flick "Rounders")
Author`s Note: See, I hated the way that Marbles bought it in the
end. So hard to watch because of how brutal it was. Poor kid. Sure, I
wanted to slap the shit outta him, but off him? Never. Necrophelia
just isn`t my thing and he`s way more fun to play with alive! I did
two endings for this and I'm unsure about the other one... And hey -
I`ve never done a story in this person before, so please be merciful!
~~An Ode to Marbles~~
Tonight, I`m at Taylor`s. His place is just as sparse as his
attitude. Just enough to get him there. Whenever I`ve hung out here
it was mostly because Chris had dragged me over with him. To watch
fights or a game, maybe, if we had money riding on it or somethin`.
Not that I don`t like hanging with Taylor or anything - he`s the
coolest guy I`ve ever fucking met. Probably ever`ll know, even. It`s
just - well, Taylor intimidates me. I always felt like being myself -
for Taylor - isn`t enough.
Tonight, though, I caught up with my cousins Chris and Matty and shot
pool while Taylor bounced at this nasty fuckin` bar on the East Side.
For a change, I even won some cash. Afterwards, I caught a ride with
Taylor, who was nursing two busted knuckles and a fat lip. Of course,
the other guy - the dumbest sonofabitch I ever saw - would most
likely be breathing out of a tube for the next month. All in all,
Taylor came out ahead. Like usual.
Not that Taylor ever saw a fight like that. Like he would
automatically win. He never assumed nothin`. He simply walked into a
situation, assessed the problem and then solved it. If Taylor was
standing up, looking across from you from that stance that he has
when he`s been pushed even a little too far, the best thing for you
is to just take it. Don`t go tryin` to talk about things `cause
Taylor`s never been much of a talker. Trust me, he doesn`t care what
you have to say if you are not part of his universe. And talking?
Well, that just makes him more set on making you stop. Just take what
you got comin` and shut the fuck up. End of story.
Me? I been lucky. Done some stupid shit that should`ve gotten my ass
beat but good. But Taylor never hit me. Even when I got us hauled off
by the cops and he`d done time because of it. But after, the look he
gives me - well, I`d rather just take the beating I deserve and be
done with it. I hate that fuckin` look.
Tonight, though, like I was sayin`, I`m with Taylor and we`re hanging
out while he drives me home. We get to my house and I move to get out
of the van and I`m suddenly flinching back. My heart starts to pound
a little and I don`t want to look over at Taylor `cause I`m ashamed.
I know he can hear my folks goin` at each other like two dogs caged.
I`m shakin` and gettin` nervous but because it`s my fuckin` house,
I`m goin` inside. Or so I think.
Before I know it, Taylor`s got me by the back of my jacket and is
pulling me back inside the van. I close the door, thinking he`ll just
wait a few minutes so that I head in when the dust settles. Before I
can say anything to him, the car is in reverse. I still can`t look at
him. I know he remembers what it`s like. But shit like this ain`t
happened to him since he was like 14. When his Pop got sent away,
that`s when Taylor started fighting. His old man got killed while he
was doin` time, tryin` to *stop* a fight during dinner, if you can
believe it. And after that, Taylor was never the same.
We pull up in front of his walk-up and start up the stairs. Taylor
says he likes living on the top floor. The view is better from up
there. Silently, I take my coat off and he takes it. He can be real
polite like that and it surprises people. He grabs two beers and
flows me one, moving to the couch and turning on the t.v. We sit
there; taking pulls of our beer, watching cartoons for a while. I
think I finally stopped shakin` but I`m tired. Tired of the fightin`
at my house. My old man. My ma. What a pain in the ass. I finish my
beer, settin` the bottle on the floor and tip my head back and close
my eyes.
(PG ENDING)
I must`ve fallen asleep, though, because the next thing I know, I`m
leanin` on Taylor and he`s pettin` my hair like he does Matty
whenever he`s been dogged by his own Pop. Benny can be a real ball-
buster. Taylor and Matty have a thing that none of us mention. It`s
been goin` on now for a long time. And to tell ya the truth - and I
swear to Christ if you tell a goddamned soul -I... well, I`m a little
jealous of `em. They connect and it`s obvious that it works for `em.
Matty needs someone to make him feel safe sometimes, though he`s
never said it. And who the fuck is safer than Taylor? Whatever, man.
I just know that right now, bein` more than half asleep, watching the
flicker of the television and feelin` that hand on my hair all
gentle... Knowin` what that hand can do when it needs to? Well, I
feel safe. And I like that. A lot.
(OR - if you wan it - The NC-17 ENDING)
We catch the end of some fight from a million years ago and finally
he settles on some low-grade porn. Something like Showtime would
show. I think I've finally stopped shakin' but I'm still feelin'
embarrassed by my folks. And to top it all off, I'm nervous as shit
now because I'm - and don't go tellin' anyone this or I'll kick your
ass, I swear to fuckin' Christ - not that umm…experienced when it
comes to sex. Everything makes me hard. I swear, it started when I
was 13 and it never went away.
So now, we've been watching this cheesy porn for almost 15 minutes
before I start - er…reactin' to what I'm seein' on the screen. The
guy is strong. Not as strong as Taylor, but then not many guys are,
are they? And I'm shiftin' a little while I try *not* to look at
Taylor, but I can sometimes feel him watchin' me. And for some weird
moment, I wonder if he does this with Chris. Somehow, I doubted it.
Matty? More `n likely yeah. Taylor and Matty have somethin' that
neither think anyone knows about. But Taylor's pretty obvious about
his feelin's for Matty. And it's plain that Matty ain't got feelin's
for anyone but the big guy. Sometimes I think about it. Yeah, yeah -
I ain't queer. Well… And what if I am? What's it to you anyways, you…
And you go callin' me that and Taylor'll beat your ass - so think
about it first, you… whatever, man.
Where was I? Oh yeah, we're watchin' porn and I'm sittin' there,
gettin' all excited and bein' all nervous and shit and before I know
it, Taylor's pulled me up against him. Like my back to his chest and
my heart's poundin' and I'm half-scared because he doesn't say
nothin'. Taylor's just…sittin' there, holdin' me like. Then I feel
his hand on my crotch - like he knows exactly what I been sittin'
there thinkin'. At first I think it's a joke, right? Like he's gonna
push me away and make a laugh out of it, maybe bust my balls a little
for gettin' hard in front of him. But he doesn't. He just rubs me
through my jeans and I'm so shocked that I turn my head, pressin' my
face into his bicep hard, ashamed but not able to stop it because of
how good it feels.
Maybe it don't matter to Taylor. Bein' with guys, I mean. And for the
record, it ain't `guys' in that sense. Far's I know, it's just Matty.
And now me, maybe. But for a guy his size, you'd think he'd have a
small brain and a short fuse. But not Taylor. The guy just ain't like
that. He don't just hate people just to hate `em. Hell, his mother's
a Jew for Christsakes. So, he don't hold nothin' against anyone in
particular, even. And right now I'm fuckin' glad about that because
he's holdin' his hand against my dick and I'm sort of groaning and he
doesn't seem to mind a bit. I still can't take my face away from his
arm, though. The feel of that rough thermal cotton on my face and oh
my fucking god - he's got his hand in my pants and he's touchin' me
and I'm feelin' like I'm gonna explode.
Taylor's hand is so strong and yet he's got pretty soft skin for the
kind of work that he does. Just a little rough. The perfect amount of
rough. And he's squeezin' just the right way and I know I won't be
long because he's pumpin' it hard and I'm tryin' not to grind up into
his fist but it's so hard -no pun intended-.
Finally, he gives me one last, hard stroke and I'm finished. I'm
breathin' like I just been chased by two fuckin' cops for a mile.
Then I feel Taylor wipe his hand on some kleenex before cleanin' me
up and puttin' me away and zippin' me up. Like I said, he can be
polite like that sometimes. We still ain't said a word, Taylor and
me. He doesn't push me away or ask for anything for himself, though.
Just lets me lay against him and I can feel myself, face still
pressed hard against that muscular arm of his, driftin' off to sleep.