disclaimer: I own nothing, I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this peice nor the actual Young One's programme itself, that honour goes to Lise Mayer, Rik Mayall and Ben Elton. This is done purely for entertainment purposes and I make no profit from it whatsoever.
So this turned out a lot longer than I had originally intened...I may split it into two at a later date. Anyway most of this was written between eleven and three at night so please excuse any mistakes and misspellings. Also just incase any-one is uncomfortable with reading sex scenes skip the first four or so paragraphs, you can pick everything up fine from there.
Now thats out the way, please read, reveiw and enjoy!
Vyvyan watched in awe as Ricks spine arched high off the mattress he was sprawled across beneath the Punk, Vyvyan seemed to find himself in permanent awe of the younger man at times like these, almost sobbingly thankful that he was here and oh so fucking real. Vyvyan could feel his hair was plastered flat against his forehead from sweat but couldn't give two damns at that precise moment as the fire burning within his gut was fuelled and grew with Ricks staccato gasps, his hips rocking almost franticly back against Vyv's, head thrown back and exposing the bruise marred stretch of skin, all Vyvs own handiwork.
"Don't stop." Rick pulled himself upwards into Vyvyans arms from where he laid, legs wrapped tight around the punks waist as if trying to pull him closer, deeper, faster; both boys' minds spinning at the cacophony of sensations exploding within their bodies and minds almost simultaneously.
Ricks nails scrabbled at the medical students back, chewed nails biting at the skin in desperation as his eyes screwed shut, mouth gaping as his climax approached and overwhelmed him as Vyvyan watched from above, his own building and coiling tight within his gut like a spring being wound tighter and tighter until…
"AH!" His head fell limp and heavy against Rick's shoulder, mouth hanging open and dragging air into his abused lungs, hips now moving of their own accord, completely independent from his minds input in pure pursuit of nirvana. "Holy shit…." Somewhere at the edge of his fused mind he could feel Rick's hands stroking up his spine, fingers dipping along the bumps of vertebrae before skating along his shoulder blades and down his arms where his forearms boxed Ricks head between them and where his head was buried against the anarchists overheated skin, lips now mouthing almost absentmindedly along that pale stretch.
Neither moved, content in their own ways to stay as they were, Ricks head tipped to the side, his own hair in disarray and came to face the orange mass that crowned the top of the Punks head a soft, almost dopey smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noticed slight streaks of orange running down along Vyvyans neck and smeared across his back. Like war paint Rick thought.
He loved this moment, the moment after when Vyvyan let every pretence fall away and simply lay with him, it was these moments when he truly loved the Punk, as he lay across Ricks body both of them trying to regain breath. They weren't simply Rick or Vyvyan in these moments the anarchist felt, it was more like they were Rick and Vyvyan in the truer sense. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally for the brief time they were on the same page, which was an extremely rare thing for the young couple to experience.
Rick allowed one hand to leave its resting place on Vyvyans arm and come up to stroke through the garish tangle of Vyvyans hair, picking his way through the strands still held solid by the extreme strength moose Vyvyan used daily and gently untangling the odd knot he came across, normally Vyvyan would threaten to break his fingers if he tried this, however the Punk was still breathless and aching and didn't have the energy to even verbalise the threat at that precise moment. This was another reason Rick loved these moments, he could get away with much more than he would normally, he could almost pretend in these moments that they were an ordinary couple…something he wasn't sure he truly desired or not…maybe he would miss Vyvyans psychosis in the end? Who knew?
"I love you…" He kept the words quite, barely a movement of his lips as the whisper escaped them, he knew not to expect a reply, had accepted it since the first time he whispered those words to Vyv's sleeping form. The anarchist allowed his eyes to slip shut, the smile slipping from his lip and a small frown creasing his brow momentarily as Vyvyan shifted, pulling out and allowing Rick to slip his legs from around his waist before rolling off the poets body and laying on his back beside him, pressed close against his side in the narrow single bunk.
Vyvyan watched until Ricks brow smoothed and his breathe evened out signalling he was asleep, just from the corner of his eye, facing upwards towards the ceiling and the mould that had nearly reached one of the poets stupid cliff Richard posters. The punk figured he would do something about it before it actually touched the silly thing…perhaps Vyvyan could try out that new flamethrower he had conned Neil into mail ordering for him. That would dry the area out he figured, and mould surely wouldn't grow back if it'd been incinerated, right? Besides if it didn't work he could always just burn the poster off the wall and have a good laugh at the ugly old bastard as he melted…Rick might have a slight objection to that though, he'd be upset… Vyvyan started at that thought. Since when did he give a shit? Since when did it matter if his entertainment upset pRick?
Vyvyan turned his head and stared down at the young man lying beside him, what the hell was he doing to him? What was he making him? Love? Love was never a word in Vyvyan Bastards vocabulary who did Rick think he was? Falling in love with him? Making him become considerate! Vyvyan felt his gut twisting like his intestines where being tugged and knotted within his abdomen, he wasn't sure he liked this…
The tattered calendar assured him he hadn't worked it out wrong, seven and a half months. Vyvyan run his hand over his stars embed within his forehead, the cool metal soothing over his palm as he puzzled, seven and a half months since this…thing with the girlie poofter started and he hadn't hit the panic button yet. Vyv scratched at his eyebrow distractedly, cool blue eyes running over the torn calendar that hung haphazardly above his rather battered chest of drawers, it was usually hidden behind S.P.G's cage but when Vyys numbers had come out as they had he'd pushed the cage from the top of the drawer set (much to the hamsters disgust), at first from frustration, but once spying the calendar figured it would be useful in double checking (about 300 times) his mathematics.
It just didn't compute within the Punks mind, no-one ever stuck it out this long, every-one abandoned ship at the nearest harbour and ran for their fucking lives after a matter of weeks being stuck in close quarters with him, why the hell should the so called anarchist be any exception to this tried and tested rule? What made Rick so special? (After all Vyv figured, the only reason S.P.G had stuck with him so long was coz he lived in a fucking cage.)
Vyvyan fell unceremoniously back onto his mattress, the rusted bed frame creaking ominously beneath him as S.P.G swore at him, the thick Glaswegian dialect comforting to the Punk after so long. He felt the weight of his padlock and chain against his chest, something he had never removed, not even with Rick. A loud, drawn out sigh escaped his lips as he folded his arms behind his head. It hadn't been an awful seven and a bit month he figured, certain aspects where unexpected…
"I love you…."
Yeah, that had been a shock; Rick falling in love with him had never even entered his mind as even a remote possibility, this had started purely by chance and had continued as such he supposed. He'd never said it back. He'd tried once, after Rick had fallen asleep, he thought that maybe that would make it easier…
"I-I" the words clogged within his throat as it closed stubbornly around the statement not allowing anything more than a slight heave past his lips that floundered uselessly around the syllables spasmodically…
Vyv continued trying for a while until he eventually gave up, figuring Rick wouldn't appreciate being woken up by Vyvyan vomiting all over the bed.
He wasn't even sure if he did love the anarchist, there was a level of mutual co-dependency there he would admit. Without Rick Vyvyan was lost, when Rick had left for his parents funeral he'd been gone a whole weekend. Vyvyan had never realised just how much of his time he spent with the annoying little twerp until those three days where dumped upon him; no-one to argue with, no-one who'd fight back. Neil simply sat while Vyvyan smacked him with a chair then the stupid bloody hippie passed out! He couldn't even have a fight properly stupid pacifist and Vyv wasn't about to pick a fight with Michael, that just wasn't cricket as Mike would say. Vyvyan was willing to wager those had been the most boring three days of his entire life waiting for the little prick to return home so he could beat the snot out of the poofter for leaving him without any entertainment. Except he didn't;
The sound of the key in the door was possibly the sweetest sound Vyvyan had heard all weekend, a grotesque grin stretched across his thin lips as the realization made anticipation fill his veins; Rick was home.
Vyvyan bounded from where he had been poised on the staircase, the sharpest, pointiest most lethal knife he owned gripped tight within his hand as the front door swung open upon that familiar scrawny silhouette…except Rick didn't look himself. It startled Vyvyan so much that he paused his pre-meditated attack as he drew up to the anarchist, knife still raised, hand frozen reaching out, fingers clawed mid grab as he took in the poets dishevelled appearance and sallow skin; the bags beneath Ricks eyes where more prominent than Vyv could ever remember seeing them, his skin had a sickly yellow tone undercutting it. He looked awful. Genuinely awful.
Vyv blinked his wide eyes at the poet as the lanky youth simply stood and stared back at the Punk, icy eyes observing through a sheen of unshed tears, red circling around his lower lid and bleeding slightly into the white of his eyes as if this was the first time he'd stopped crying since he'd left the share house…which Vyvyan considered may well be possible.
"Get on with it then." Even his voice sounded listless and monotone like he couldn't give a shit. To be fair to Rick though, he really couldn't. He'd known this was waiting for him from the moment he walked out the door Friday evening, however the fact he'd spent the majority of the weekend alone in his parents' house crying over every stupid little memory his childhood home threw up in his face meant he really was having trouble giving a damn about Vyvyan and his stupid violent streak.
Vyvyan however didn't move. Simply blinked and stared at Rick mouth agape. Something was very wrong with the poet; he wasn't even trying to get out of Vyvyans way! He hadn't even flinched or anything…
After a moment of the two of them standing and staring at one another Rick seemed to realise he had wrong footed the Punks attack and nothing was going to happen. With a sigh and despondent eye roll Rick pushed past Vyvyan, the ruck sack that he had taken with him for the weekend slung over his shoulder, as the anarchist came into the light of the hallway and away from the gloom of the night Vyvyan noticed even his clothing looked less…well Rick was never the cleanest or neatest student but he had always taken a certain amount of pride within his appearance…a pride which seemed to have gone completely missing. He didn't have his usual jacket on, the sleeve of which Vyv saw poking from the zip of the rucksack. The grey button up was wrinkled and stained (more so than usual), the sleeves shoved up to his elbows and the top two button undone Vyv cast his eyes down and noted Rick hadn't changed from his suit trousers, mud was scuffed along the knees and splattered against the bottom hemline, his red shoes where missing replaced by a pair of white tennis shoes much to Vyvyans surprise.
"They broke." Vyvyan looked up sharply at being caught, eyes wider still as he watched Rick throw the rucksack against the wall beside the wardrobe knocking the phone off the hook as he did so. Neither moved to replace the handset. "Buckles broke." Rick explained unnecessarily, Vyvyan knew the buckles where broken. The buckles had been broken for weeks; Rick had simply refused to accept that his precious shoes had finally given up the ghost.
Rick watched without interest as the phone handset swung from the chord, knocking against the wardrobe siding, swinging back and forth like some kind of comical pendulum…except he didn't find it funny.
Vyvyan shifted uncomfortably as Rick stared past him at the swinging phone behind him, boots scuffing against the worn wooden boards. This was extremely unnerving for him. He had never met this side of the anarchist before, not really, sure Rick had his sulks and such like but this was like he was taking Neil on for most depressed house member, and not that Vyvyan would ever admit it…but it was making him concerned. After all if Rick topped himself he had longer than just three days of boredom to deal with!
"A-Are you Och…" Ricks eyes glanced towards Vyv as he struggled with the words, his face contorting and gurning as he tried to force out the inquiry, Rick quirked one eyebrow as vyvyans eyes practically bossed whilst spitting out the troublesome words. "Are. You. OKAY?!" Vyvyan grinned to himself at his success before dropping the grin quickly at the look of bemusement on Rick's face, his eyes unreadable as they stared Vyvyan down.
"Am I ok?" Rick took a small step towards Vyvyan, one hand coming out and pushing the inner door shut behind him. If asked at that moment Rick could never in a million years have described the emotions running riot through him as 'ok', but he knew Vyvyan didn't really give a shit, there was some kind of trap lying in wait here, some cruel punishment was still to come Rick was sure and he'd be damned if he was going to give the punk more ammunition to fire at him, he wasn't born yesterday. "I'm fine. Why?" Rick didn't stay to wait for a reply simply moved past the punk into the main room of the house, stopping in the unfinished doorway and simply staring into the room. It was exactly the same as when he'd left, the sofa was still red and sat in front of the knackered television set that sat in the bay window, the shelves beside him still as rickety and laden with a culmination of crap and the kitchen was still filthy and empty. He didn't really understand why it felt so unfair, it felt like something here should be different, why did life for the guys have to remain exactly as it was while his own felt like it was spiralling beyond his control…
Vyvyan hesitated before shuffling over to where Rick stood in place in the archway, eyes glancing with disgust around the room they were facing into, Vyvyan didn't notice this though, he was thinking about the poet's rather blatant lie. He wasn't ok, and he didn't want to talk about it; fair enough. Except it wasn't. Vyvyan bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself asking the poet again, knowing he would get the same response, what did he care if the stupid poof was upset? So what his parents were dead boohoo, everyone feel sorry for the wimpy git never mind the fact that he himself had never really even had parents, sure he'd had his mother (who barely even constituted as a parent on account of the fact she was hardly present in his life) and a string of men who'd been in and out of those doors like bees in a hive. Who the hell gave a shit when he hadn't been ok? No one. So why should he give a damn now?
Vyvyan shoved his hands as deep into his jeans pockets as the denim would allow, index finger playing with a hole that was developing in his left pocket…maybe if he got it big enough he could wire it up to that bit of c4 he'd been keeping in his sock for the last few days…kind of a tug, lob and kaboom! Yeah…that would be cool, it would look like he could produce explosives from thin air if he got the timing right.
Rick saw a grin spread across Vyvyan's face from the corner of his eye an almost dopey glaze descending upon his eyes, Rick rolled his eyes. Explosives had to be. Nothing gave Vyvyan Bastard that kind of contented dreamy glow like something that could cause indescribable damage within a matter of seconds, much like the man himself really.
"Where's Neil?" Rick asked, stepping into the empty kitchen he couldn't help noting one of the chairs had been repaired recently, rather shoddily, the back had been super glued and nailed back onto the seat, iron nine inch nails stuck out hazardously from the back and the juncture of the seat. Rick made a note to avoid that seat in the future; it looked like it could be more lethal than the accursed rickety chair. Glancing around once more he noticed the absence of the other (sometimes he often suspected omnipresent) member of the household, no random sentences being strung together, no declaration of coolness…what on earth was going on. "And Mike, where are they?"
"Mike's at a girls." Vyvyan supplied, throwing himself over the back of the sofa, deciding walking around would be far too boring. He'd spent three days being bored; he needn't add more tedium upon himself in unneeded he figured. He landed a bit rougher than he'd anticipated however and had to cling onto the sofa back to stop himself slipping from the seat onto the floor, once settled he hooked his chin over the back and watched as Rick moved about the kitchen, finger tips trailing along he chairs and countertops. "And I think Neil's…" Vyvyan trailed off, Neil was visiting his parents…"Staying over a friends for a few nights." Rick snorted at that, upper lip curling and revealing his teeth in a gruesome sneer.
"Neil at a friend's? Are you sure Vyvyan? I didn't think the hippie had any friends." Normally this statement alone would have convinced Vyv that Rick was going to be fine and was back to his usual bastard self, but the delivery was all wrong, his voice still lacked that edge Vyvyan was used to hearing and was still dreary and un-emphatic sounding. He was not ok. Vyvyan, for once was glad he'd spared the anarchist's feelings, despite the stir of disgust this caused within himself.
Vyv shifted where he was sprawled, one heavy booted foot thudding down onto the floor from where it had been precariously perched beside the other atop the arm of the couch, and the sound seemed so loud in the sudden quite. Vyv wasn't sure he liked this…it was too quiet; Rick was too…un-Rick. He wasn't even spitting his usual venom about the hippie, well he was trying and Vyvyan supposed that was a good sign, but he was still a way off.
"So I'm stuck here with you am I?" Rick asked, shooting the question over his shoulder from where he was leaning over one of the countertops, spindly fingers gripping against the cheap surface, Vyvyan fought the urge to stomp over there and put his head through the cabinet he was in front of, it would be so easy…and it might snap the miserable sod out of this ridiculous funk he'd sunk himself into Vyv theorised…no, behave. Ricks' not right and there's no-one else who's going to give a shit. Vyvyan nodded in reply to the question and Rick sighed letting his head drop forwards to rest momentarily against the door of the cabinet Vyvyan had previously been daydreaming about putting his head through. "I'm going to bed."
"Oh. Ok." Vyvyan sat up as Rick slumped out of the room, the usual slope of his shoulder seemed somewhat more pronounced than usual and his feet barely left the floor with each step. "Rick!" Vyvyan called out, not letting his mind think over the emotions that where driving at him to be the shoulder Rick needed tonight, not letting himself linger over the twist that happened in his gut every time the anarchist cast his eyes over towards him and they looked…lost…"If-"He cut off, unsure of what exactly he was trying to offer here, never having received it himself he wasn't sure of what he should be giving. "Just…if you need…I mean. Talking. It helps some people, y'know?" Rick turned from his place at the foot of the stairs, eyebrow furrowed and lips set into a grim line.
"Piss off Vyvyan."
No, Vyvyan didn't know if he was in love with Rick, nor did he think he'd ever truly know having never experienced anything even close to love up until this point in his life he figured love could come at him with a crowbar (not that it seemed likely to, I mean that's not a particularly loving thing to do is it?) and he still wouldn't recognize it most likely. Vyvyan tipped his head to the side facing the stupid little doodle Rick had scrawled across his wall one night three months after everything had changed, Vyvyan hadn't noticed it until nearly a week had gone by, Rick had to point it out to him in Vyvyan's defence though he didn't usually spend hours staring at his walls of a night, especially not if there was something better in the bed to occupy his time with.
The writing was messy and sloping across the plaster at an angle;
Who would have thought?
When all seemed fraught
With those who we fought
A sought touch could heal
And teach once more to feel
It was simple and brief but it was definitely some of Rick's better work, if he was honest it saddened Vyv a little to think he would have to leave it behind someday. The ball point that Rick had scratched it out with had eaten slightly into the plaster, he told Vyvyan he'd had trouble getting it to actually work on the plaster, hence forth why it seemed at parts the poem was carved into the wall rather than written.
Running his fingers around the outside area Vyvyan tried not to think about the emotions that drove Rick to write what under normal circumstance the punk would think of as sentimental drivel across his wall, even more so he tried not to think about the emotions that made him want to keep the poem and re-read it every opportunity he got.
Maybe it was for the best he didn't know if he loved the anarchist, he mused, sucking in his cheeks still running his eyes over the scribbled poem, everything worked well the way it was didn't it? They could plod along like this for however long it took for Rick to finally click that Vyvyan Bastard was defective and slap his hand down on the panic button like so many others had before and leave Vyv to stew in his own juices once more…that was how it had always gone.
"Maybe I don't want it to end like that this time…" Vyvyan whispered to the plaster coating his wall.
"What was that?" Vyvyan ignored S.P.G, as per usual and continued tracing his index fingers over the wording carved into his wall almost religiously. "Oh, fine. Ignore me then, bloody poofter, look what he's done to ya!" The hamster grumbled to himself, settling down in the pile of hay spread across his cage floor, booting a number of steel bolts out the way so he could lay.
Vyvyans other hand came up from where it had rested across his stomach and enclosed the heavy padlock that lay against his sternum, the chain around his neck shifting ever so slightly at the motion. No, Vyvyan bastard wasn't sure if he knew what love felt like, he didn't know if he was in love with the anarchist but he knew he didn't want to find out by losing him.
Vyvyan sat stunned on the sofa as Ricks footsteps retreated up the stairs and the tell-tale slam of a door told him he'd retreated to his room.
"This is why I'm not nice." Vyvyan muttered and fell backwards onto the sofa once more, arms crossed almost petulantly across his chest, padlock digging hard into his arm, not quite painful yet but on the way. "Bastard."
Vyv lay there for a while in silence listening to the sounds of the house, the mice playing poker by the sink betting with bread crumbs, the hermit beneath the stairs camping down for the night and upstairs Rick…kicking something if the repetitive thumps reverberating along the ceiling where anything to go by. Vyvyan rolled his eyes at Ricks temper tantrum, he'd tried being nice to the anarchist, god knows why but he'd tried and it'd been thrown back in his face, ungrateful bastard. He should have known better, the spotty twerp wasn't going to let anyone help him, he wanted to suffer let him, let him write one of his weedy poems about the pain and turmoil going on in his heart and head or some other poofy bullshit. Vyvyan sneered to the air, as another thud shook the ceiling. This was proof nicety never worked….maybe that was where he'd gone wrong…
Coming to his decision Vyvyan heaved himself from the sofa where his body had sunk into the pitiful cushions that covered the framework and clomped up the stairs after the anarchist, if Rick didn't want nice Vyv he could work with that certainly.
Vyvyan skipped the top steps, hopping up them effortlessly and drawing up the Ricks door, he pressed his ear against the wood, listening for sound on the other side where the rooms' occupant had grown suspiciously quiet. Pressing his entire body against the wood was, logically pointless as Vyvyan well knew (he may have appeared a half-wit but there was still a brain in there, a rather intelligent, if lager soaked one at that) but it didn't stop him doing so, chain clinking slightly as they came into contact with the door, his boots where pressed tight against the door, ear pressed a close as his hair would allow.
Shuffling.
Whispering.
No not whispering, whimpering. Vyvyan felt something painful in his chest as he recognized that sound, his mind shooting him back to a grungy flat, unwashed bed clothes and a possibly broken wrist; 'OH GROW UP VYVYAN! ANY-ONE WOULD THINK YOU WHERE A LITTLE GIRL NOT A BOY!' Ah darling Mummy. Always so compassionate. Perhaps it was the memory of his scrawny five year old self sobbing into the blankets while his Mother worked (nicked their dinner from the local store) and her then beau downing as many cans of cheap beer as he could before passing out that made him turn the door handle, or maybe it was something else. Something he never would examine too closely (something that felt like it was lifting his hand and wrapping it firmly around the handle, pressure against his skin as if saying he wasn't moving until he opened that door), but whatever it was he turned the handle and clicked the door open, booting it the rest of the way with one of his doc Martine's the crash of the door slamming into the wall behind causing a satisfied shiver to zip along his spine. Until he saw the room's occupant.
Rick was curled in on himself at the far end of the bed, knees drawn high up under his chin, he'd discarded the hideous tennis shoes (thank god, Vyvyan made a mental note to burn then at a later date) and his toes poked out of the holes In his worn socks, his hands where gripping his calves against his chest in what looked like it should be a painful grip but no emotion showed on his face, not pain, not shock at Vyvyans abrupt entrance, he was just blank in the most unsettling sense the punk had ever experienced. He watched as Rick's fingers clawed in the fabric of his trousers then released and repeated, teeth knowing at his lower lip with such fervour Vyvyan knew it was only a matter of time before the skin was broken.
"I tried being nice." His voice conveyed a confidence that wasn't truly within. "STOP BEING A SISSY!" Vyvyan booted the bed with as much strength as he could muster as watched with a slither of amusement as the anarchist atop the bed wobbled, like a cherry sat atop a jelly on an uneven table, and waited.
"Stop." The request was barely audible, as Rick mumbled it into his legs, turning his head into his knees, burying his eyes against the muddied material. Vyvyan pretended not have heard it and kicked the framework once more, a vicious growl escaping his curled lips. He was going to break Rick out of this if it killed one of them.
"SNAP OUT OF IT YOU NANCY!" His voice was near bellowing point and he could feel it in his throat, not that he didn't shout a lot it was just over the last three days he guessed it hadn't got as much use as it would usually.
"Please, Vyvyan…" The tone was almost beseeching but Vyvyan paid no mind, still not the reaction he wanted.
"STOP BEING SUCH A NANCY!" Vyvyan leant across the bed, squaring up to Ricks bowed head, his hands now gripping at his trouser legs more fervently. "Mommy's boy." It was a low blow dealt in desperation, the punk felt an alien emotion tug his gut down as soon as the words left his mouth, unbeknownst to him at the time it was guilt pulling at him and making his mouth dry.
Vyvyan heard Rick's breath stutter in the heavy silence that followed, until the mop of brown poking above Ricks bony knees shifted, his head lifting, eyes like thunder in an ice storm locking onto Vyvyan darkened orbs.
"You Bastard." Ricks voice was harsh with the whisper, punctuated by the sound of skin colliding with skin as his hand shot from his leg and struck Vyvyan across the cheek leaving a near perfect imprint of his hand spanning across his cheek bone and down his jawline. "My parents have just died you insensitive arse!" Vyvyan scoffed and Rick pressed his hands into the mattress to fight the near insatiable urge to slap the punk again. Vyvyan meanwhile was silently cheering.
"Oh boo fucking hoo." He spat, booted foot coming down once more against the bed in an attempt to distract himself from the stinging burn on one side of his face, for Rick that had been a better slap than Vyvyan had anticipated. "My parents are dead, boo hoo, Mommy's apron strings have finally been cut by death and I can't cope!" He mocked, clambering atop the bed in front of Rick, much to the anarchist's disgust.
"Stop it Vyvyan!" Rick was prepared to beg, he would do anything just to get the punk away from him and stop him twisting what felt like a large shard of glass inside his chest. "please-"
"Oh shut up you great girl!"
"YOU DON'T GET IT DO YOU?" Rick snapped, his hands slapping at Vyvyans shoulders as he pulled himself to his knees, tears threatening to fall as they burnt at the corners of his eyes but he'd be damned if he shed them in front of Vyvyan.
Vyvyan stayed silent, even putting up with the shove to his shoulders, Rick needed this he told himself, once again ignoring that nagging voice in the back of his head questioning why he gave a fuck in the first place. Instead he listened;
"You never had parents, not really, that old trollop who gave birth to you never gave a damn but my mother did and now she's dead Six feet under with Daddy! It's not fucking fair that's what wrong with me! It's not fair why do they have to die? Why my parents, what gives whatever higher being there may be the right to swoop down and snuff out their light? Why not yours! Why do they have to die and a worthless piece of shit like you get to live?" Rick had tears streaming down both cheeks by this point, having given up fighting them back. Vyvyan ignored the rather sharp barb thrown his way and instead shifted into a more comfortable position, glad at least that Rick was letting off some of the emotions that had been building inside before he had simply detonated like an over cooked pressure cooker.
"I never had proper parents, no." Vyvyan spoke in what constituted as his soft voice.
Rick continued as if he hadn't heard the punk, which considering the state he was in was quite possible. "I'm alone…" The main burst had clearly left his system, much to the punks' relief as his voice was considerably weaker now, his eyes stayed locked on Vyvyans as he spoke, that lost look back and replacing the anger. Vyvyan blinked slightly thrown by Rick's swings of emotion, but he figured it was a natural part of the grieving process…
"Don't be daft…" Vyvyan mumbled, his hands toying with the stained duvet between himself and Rick, what looked like ink splashed across the cotton on blots. "Just coz you ain't got no parents no more doesn't mean you're alone. I mean look at me, I'm here aren't I?" Rick blinked as the penny dropped; Vyvyan had provoked him on purpose. The Bastard. "And Mike n Neil, ok so we're not perfect, but we're something. I mean, you lot are all I've got-"
"What about you're other friends?" Rick asked, his own fingers now toying with the fabric not far from Vyvyans own, his head inclined downwards, his brain still having trouble computing that Vyvyan may have actually done something kind; to him! Of all people, it boggled his mind to think of it so he stopped.
"Those wankers?" Vyv asked, what sounded like a smile in his voice as he spoke. "There all right for a fight and a drink but…there not people you can speak to."
"And I am?" Rick asked, head still down, a part of him still awaiting the blow that he was sure Vyvyan was building up to delivering. Vyvyan deliberated a second before humming an affirmation.
"Yeah, 'spose. I mean when you're not acting like a complete tosser you're not that bad really." Vyvyan definitely caught the flicker of a smile that fluttered briefly over Ricks lips and definitely didn't feel the flutter it caused in his gut at the thought it was him who'd made him break his blank mask.
"Thanks."
"S'okay." Vyvyan shrugged, he could feel awkwardness beginning to build inside his body, where the hell was he supposed to go from here? Was there even anywhere to go? Not for the first time Vyvyan cursed the fact he'd had little to no experience with situations of this kind.
"You…you uhm. You provoked me on purpose didn't you?" Rick asked, glancing up to face the punk, the light from the hallway shining into the dim room and backlighting the man sat before him, in this light Rick could almost mistake him for being handsome…
Vyvyan nodded, a grim grin spreading across his face as he shifted where he sat, chains clinking together once more as he did so.
"Bastard." Rick whispered, despite the smile pulling at his lips.
"Well, you weren't gonna talk to me willingly where you?" Vyv reasoned, he'd tried nice and that failed so he switched to what he knew best and it worked! If it's not broke, don't fix it. "And it was kinda fun."
"Oh, that's lovely Vyvyan. I'm glad my grief has supplied you with amusement." Rick spat, their fingers still toying with the duvet beside one another, neither noticing until their fingers brushed one another causing both boys arms to lock, their hands suddenly snapped in towards their own laps as if they were on a piece of overextended elastic. The blush that burned at Ricks cheeks was hot enough for Vyvyan to have cooked an egg over, not that his own was much better, but his hid his own behind a disgusted snarl.
"Just 'cos I didn't want you moping round the house till you topped yourself and made me Mike and Neil pay more rent don't mean you can get all fruity with me!"
"For God's sake Vyvyan!" Rick squawked, the prominence of his lisp belaying how flustered he was becoming. "It was a ruddy accident! We were both playing with the duvet, besides it was your fingers that brushed mine!"
"So what are you saying?" Vyv leant forwards; the light behind him illuminated Ricks petrified face for a moment, his sallow skin and defined cheek bones, moist plump parted lips all caught Vyvyans attention in a way they hadn't before (at least not while he was awake anyhow) and he had to swallow heavily before his regained his focus and continued; "I want to get all poofy with you? Hah! The only thing I'm going near your trouser area for is to kick you in the knackers!"
Rick tried to scoot back as Vyvyan leant close to his face, too close, he could feel the punks breath fanning across his face, this was possibly the closest any human had ever come to kissing him…Ricks eyes widened as a number of dreams flashed before his eyes, the dreams he was always far too ashamed to even think about come day break, the nights where he wasn't sure it whether it had been male or female lips, small delicate hands or strong firm palms against his skin. Oh for the love of Cliff, please move back…He could practically feel his lips shaking. Was Vyvyan moving closer or was that his imagination?
"Just the idea…"Vyvyans voice was breathless but still held an edge neither he nor Rick recognised to it. "Of being trouser with you, makes my skin crawl…" Whether it was in a good way or bad way was up for any-ones guess. Rick turned his head away slightly, breaking eye contact with the punk as he screwed them shut and lips finally slammed hard against his jaw, missing his mouth, Rick could feel Vyvyans nose ring did hard into his cheek and knew he should push the other boy away, scream at him, he could hold this over the punks head for ever and ever, but no sound would come. His lips where parted, heavy breaths escaping them, his hands came up to push Vyvyan back but instead gripped tight at the denim over jacket as his teeth began to nibble almost viciously at the skin, just veering on the edge of breaking the surface but not quite there.
Vyvyan meanwhile still had his eyes open and a squirming in his gut that even he couldn't tell himself was nausea at his position, it was far too like something he'd only ever felt while looking at the dirty mags he'd pinched from the offy and during some rather vivid and excitable dreams. He was waiting, waiting for the shove, for the scream for the torrent of abuse he well deserved, but none came. Almost experimentally he began to nip at Ricks skin, enjoying the taste far more than he'd ever thought possible, while here might as well get a bit of experience he figured, he froze as Ricks fingers fumbled at his jacket, tugging at the chains before finding the jacket edge and gripping hold tight, his breath heavy and rasping in Vyvyans ear. Oh god when did it turn into this?
Vyvyan tried to pull back as Rick turned, their lips brushed almost accidentally, drawing a sound Vyvyan had never heard come from another human being before from deep within Ricks throat, both paused a moment, lips lingering against each other's, neither really knowing what to do, until Vyvyan applied a little more pressure, softly moving his lips against the anarchists own, surprised at how soft they felt against his own rough chapped ones. Vyvyan had no idea how it had come to this, no idea what the fuck he was doing and no idea what he had started, just that this was the best he had felt for a long time.
Vyvyan paced nervously outside Ricks door, it was well past midnight and all the other occupants of the house where abed and sleeping peacefully while a nervous twitch started flexing at his right eye. Stopping he pushed his face into his hands and went over the words he didn't know how to verbalise once more, the great ball of emotion that seemed to sit heavy in his chest as he thought of the anarchist behind the door, how do people do this? He wondered.
Resuming his pacing he dragged his heavy booted feet roughly across the worn wood he was traversing, a more detached part of his mind wondering at the fact he hadn't worn a little track way outside the poets door by now the amount of times he'd paced it, cowardice was not something Vyvyan liked to associate himself with, however on this occasion it appeared he had little choice. He was scared. Exhaling heavy he turned the small object in his hand, the cool metal heated by the warmth of his skin, would Rick understand? Would he know?
"C'mon you get a grip you girl." He pinched his denim clad thigh roughly for good measure and strode up to the door, pushing it open easily (the lock had broken the day before, S.P.G had done something involving a carrot, some high explosives and a hair pin).
"Vyvyan! What on earth…." Rick was sat up in bed, a torch clasped in one clammy hand, one of his Marxism books laid out on his lap, Vyvyan paused a moment in the doorway, blessing the heat wave that had made the days so uncomfortable as he took in Ricks sleepwear, a pair of baggy rolled up joggers and his discarded vest top thrown in a heap at the bottom of the bed. "What are you doing?" Rick asked, closing his book and setting the torch to one side, the heat had kept him awake and he was sure he'd heard movement outside his door at one point, and after convincing himself it was burglars or the bogey man had been unable to rest.
Vyvyan stared at the boy sitting cross legged atop his bedside covers and felt the small piece of metal in his hand, the nerves slipping away surprisingly easy. Swinging the door closed behind him the torch light shone a direct beam against his chest illuminating his features, the extra light allowing him to see Rick a little clearer, not that he really needed to, he was pretty sure he had every part of the anarchists body committed to memory by this point…however the visual was rather nice.
"I wanted to give you something."
"At Midnight?" Rick asked incredulously, a soft smile playing along his lips despite the puzzlement in his mind.
"Yeah." Vyv nodded, scuffed his boots and finally admitted. "I was going to give it to you earlier…but I…got distracted." Well it was kinda the truth, fear was pretty distracting after all.
Moving as quietly as he could across the room Vyvyan tried to keep eye contact with Rick, wanting the poet to understand how much it took for the punk to do this. Needing him to understand…
"Here." Vyvyan held his hand out as he squatted beside the bed, palm upturned, the small gift settled in the centre of his hand, the torch light reflecting off the shiny metal of a key, a length of string strung through the hole at the top big enough to slip over some-one's head. Rick stared down at it, confused, he took it between his index and thumb and held it up closer to his eyes so as to see it clearer, Vyvyan had never given him anything before…the key must mean something…
Vyvyan watched the anarchist examine the key, handling it gently like it was a precious gem before glancing back up towards Vyvyan.
"It's the key to my padlock…." Vyvyan spoke, his voice that soft gruff tone Rick had grown to love, Rick blinked and for a horrible moment Vyvyan thought he didn't understand and that same fear returned clawing its way into his skin and making him scratch self-consciously at the star studs emblazoned across his forehead, before the grin broke out across Ricks face and his eyes lit up, his expression looked rather like what Vyvyan would imagine it would be if some-one had told him Thatcher had handed in her resignation. Ricks arms suddenly flung around his neck, his lips crushing against Vyvyans with a ferociousness the punk didn't know the scrawny youth possessed, the key clutched tight in his fist.
"Thank you." Ricks breath fanned over Vyvyans lips and cheeks, the smile still strong as Vyvyan took the key softly from his hand and slipped it over his head, gently tucking it beneath his braids and smoothing the string along his chest until his hands came to rest over where the key sat over his sternum.
"It's yours," Vyvyan murmured, keeping as close to Rick as he could manage. "I…well, y'know." Rick smiled, he knew.
"I understand." The words seemed to be what Vyvyan wanted to hear as the punk's disposition changed almost immediately from the nearly unfamiliar hesitance back to the almost surreal brashness he usually possessed.
"Good!" Rick startled as Vyvyan pushed him back in the bed before clambering in beside him, boots and all, the mattress protesting at the extra weight as per usual. Rick was sure one day it would just give up and collapse beneath them, until that day…
Vyvyan tugged Rick close against him, enjoying the feel of the poets weight against him and the heat radiating off his skin (despite the temperature) the smell of sweat and sex still clung to his skin and the sheets beneath them. Snuffling slightly Rick curled against Vyvyan, fingers running over the jagged edge of the key, a soft smile still playing around the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes feeling much safer with his punk beside him.
"I love you…" He whispered, lips brushing over the skin of Vyvyans ribs as he spoke. Vyvyan grinned before resting his hand over where Rick was cradling the key and gently squeezing the anarchists hand around the small metal object.
Vyvyan bastard didn't know if he loved Rick, he didn't know if he would ever know, but he did know he didn't ever want his anarchist to hit the panic button.