Title: Promises
Fandom: Left 4 Dead 2
Pairing: NickxEllis
Rating: PG-ish, I guess.
Warnings: Slash, some cursing, mentions of more adult themes *coughs*
Pages: 4
Word Count: 1,234 (I had to keep it at this. Had to.)
Disclaimer: Nick and Ellis (as well as Keith, Dave, Rochelle, and Coach) belong to VALVe. I'm merely writing for entertainment and not profit.
I was told on DeviantART that I needed happier stories. They aren't my strong point, however, but I figured... Hey, why not? I've got a couple on my hard drive, so I decided to go ahead and polish one up real quick. This one here's a few months old, though its exact age, I'm not sure of. I'd have to delve into my external hard drive, which houses my older NickxEllis story folder, and thus wouldn't have this newer version. But I'm lazy, so... Anyway. Shushing now.
Also, I'm thinking about writing a companion to this some day. One that touches more on the actual promise itself. Well, both promises, maybe.
...
...
...
"A pool? You can't be serious."
"What about a lake house, then?"
"Fuck no! Lakes are dirty and full of shit that can kill you. Don't you ever pay attention to those freakish TV shows you like watching, about all those disgusting parasites? It's like living with fucking zombies again. Fuck. That."
"Then I want a house with a pool. C'mon, Nick, you said I could ask for one thing, so long as it was reasonable, right? What's so bad 'bout a pool? I'll maintain it an' everything, I promise!"
A pout crosses those pretty lips. An innocent gaze up through dark lashes... That Southern charm Ellis knows Nick simply cannot resist.
"Pleaaase?"
A pause, in which Nick falters, giving a futile attempt at ignoring that jutted bottom lip.
He puts down the printed-out ad that Ellis had brought to him earlier, and Ellis knows already that he's won.
Nick can already feel a throbbing in his temples and he stares down the younger man from across the table for only a mere six seconds before giving a defeated pinch to the bridge of his nose, fighting the urge to scowl.
"… Ugh. Fine. But you better keep that promise," he concedes, shoulders sagging as he shoots a warning look towards Ellis, who smiles brilliantly.
"Y'know damn well I keep my promises, Nick. In fact, I do believe that I also promised you somethin' last night."
A dark brow quirks.
"Yeah, something about you showing me exactly how skilled a mechanic's hands can be, if I recall right."
The smile remains, but takes on a bit of cockiness.
"Yup. That's the one. Trust me, Nick. I give damn good back massages if I do say so m'self! You'll forget you even had an achy back to begin with. It'll put ya right to sleep, too. Not to mention you'll feel much, much better, 'specially after ya actually get a decent rest, 'cause I know y'ain't been sleepin' well lately," the brunet rambles, finishing with a dramatic sigh and shake of his head. "I only wish you told me about your back problems years ago. Stubborn man."
After five years of having known each other (with four of those years actually having been spent being together), Ellis knows the older man inside and out. It really hadn't ever taken him long to strip away those masks Nick still wears today and learn everything about him. The man's back problems were known but never brought up until they became enough of an issue that Nick began losing quite a bit of sleep, because the man was sensitive about his age though he was only twelve years Ellis's senior. At forty, he shouldn't even have back problems, he'd complained, but Ellis reasoned that the Apocalypse hadn't been particularly kind to any of them, and that at least he'd survived.
And even after those few years, Ellis still does everything he can to look after the incredibly stubborn gambler. Because, he'd said in response to Nick's inquiry as to why he cares so goddamned much, that's what you do for someone you love.
It was that confession that sent everything spiraling towards what they had now. That was four months before Nick had finally said "Fuck it," let go of his previous resolve not to get into any sort of relationship with anyone—let alone some stupid hick—and kissed the then-twenty-four ("and a half, thank you!") year old soundly.
Nick readjusts the reading glasses he is wearing— another thing that makes him feel so old despite, again, only being forty; he puts up with them, because Ellis had admitted he found the man to be, in his words, "incredibly fuckin' sexy," apparently enough so that he actually had to miss work the next day—as he peered curiously at his companion. "Why are you so set on a pool, anyway?"
"Ain't never had one."
"…do you even know how to swim?"
This is a dumb question. Nick knows very well, because it was Ellis that kept him from drowning in more ways than one.
Ellis takes it in stride.
"A'course I do, silly. Besides, it'd be real fun to have the reception at home an' make it a big party, wouldn't it?"
"A big— Just how many people do you plan on inviting?"
Ellis begins ticking off his fingers, and Nick thinks he'll regret asking that.
"Ro an' Coach for sure. An' Ro's husband an' her little girl, of course—man, did you see her? Growin' up right quick, that one. Such a sweetheart, too, an' real smart. Jus' like her mama. If she don't grow up to be, like, president or somethin', I'll be real surprised—"
"Ellis."
"Oh, sorry. Can't leave out Coach's wife either. Hmm… Gotta invite Mama, an' Keith an' Dave, and my dad, an' my grandparents… All in spirit, mind. It ain't gonna be a lotta people, 'cause I know ya hate that. I still dunno that many people anyway. I can't invite the guys from work, 'cause I ain't really friends with any of 'em…"
He trails off and for many moments, he merely retains a thoughtful expression. That expression turns surprisingly conniving. …or, as conniving as Ellis could get.
"Hey Nick? Ya said your ex-wife was still alive, right?"
Nick blinks at this, not sure that he likes where this is headed.
"Uh. Yeah. Why?"
Waving a hand dismissively, the brunet walks around the table to Nick's chair, hands coming out to rub at his shoulders.
"It's nothing. Nothing at all."
The singsong voice sends a chill over Nick, and he tries shrugging off those pleasurably manipulative hands and fails.
"Overalls, what in the hell are you planning?"
The twenty-eight year old leans over his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to his lightly stubbled jaw.
"I've been thinkin'… That maybe we could send her a nice lil' invite to the weddin'…"
He can feel the smirk, even though Ellis's face is away from his.
"An' we can throw her into the pool if she does show up. Y'said she liked wearin' them really expensive brands an' shit."
A silence filters in for many heartbeats before Nick begins laughing, hard enough he can feel tears forming, at the mental images the mechanic's words produce.
Moments pass, and he finally regains his composure. Something sinks in after a few more seconds and he blinks, brows furrowing.
"You've already sent out the invitations, haven't you?"
A contented purr next to his ear is his answer.
"You actually managed to find her?"
Another purr; teeth find his earlobe, nipping gently.
Really, he knew shouldn't be so surprised. After so long, Ellis had picked up a fair few of the older man's habits, and had learned quite well how to get his way half of the time. The brunet could be a downright tricky bastard at times, and Nick could not help but feel…proud—he knew that many of those tricks had come from living with a conman for this long, after all.
"Christ, El. I think I love you even more now."
"That's possible?"
"Shut up. Later, you're fulfilling that promise from last night."
"…later? Why later?"
Nick turns his head, seizing Ellis's lips in a fierce, albeit brief, kiss.
"Because, you've made an unspoken promise with that mouth of yours, and you better make good on it before you put me to sleep."