The bruises on Rick's neck were fading and more often than not Stan found himself sleeping in the same bed as Rick, even though he stole the covers and drooled. Not for that of course, but because there was nothing better then getting a bj in the morning or having sex to start the day. Usually it was so early when it all went down that Stan would roll over and go back to sleep again and wake up to a puddle of drool on the pillow next to him with no Rick. These days Rick seemed to be always working on something or other. Stan would leave for work and Rick would still be there welding something or making some robot. He never seemed to go to work.
"Did you get fired?" Stan asked one evening over a meal of burgers and fries from a fast food place.
"No, Bell and Bishops' research is a dead end, I quit, they are going about the whole thing ass backwards," Rick said.
"So you have no job." Stan said sipping his soda.
"Yeah…but don't -don't get your panties in a knot." Rick replied stealing a handful of fries. "I own the fucking warehouse and I have another position lined up."
"Good," Stan said and munched on his hamburger.
"The people I'm going to be working with they -they are on the right track, what I should have been doing all along…." Rick said emptying his flask into the soda cup.
Stan wasn't interested in the rest of what Rick was saying, it was full of techno babble, the kind of thing his brother might say, and that bored Stan to tears. "Yeah, uh-huh, that's… science-y… right?"
Rick put down his burger. "Ooh sorry I'm boring you, Punchy."
Stan was stealing the last of Rick's fries and had quickly stuffed them all in his mouth. "hmmph-mmmfh…"
"But-but enough pleasantries, let's get fucked up."
Stan swallowed his mouthful of fries. "Heheh. That's what I like to hear."
With a sweeping motion Rick cleared off the 'coffee table' and went to get the big long mirror they did lines off sometimes.
"Aren't we going to hit a few bars first?" Stan asked.
Rick went off to get a mirror.
"N-no because this is special occasion, tomorrow we are going to New York City and we are gonna spend the weekend getting wrecked." Rick said.
"This new thing, it's in New York?" Stan asked.
"No, but I'm sick of bean town, Punchy." Rick said. "It's in a place called Arkham, I'm moving."
Rick put the mirror down on the coffee table and removed a straight razor from his lab coat and took out the vial of brown powdery heroin from another pocket. He began to cut it very finely with the razor, making needle thin lines on the mirror.
"What about me?" Stan asked.
"Well you got a job, Stan. Find a place to rent if you wanna stay here. I'm not your boyfriend." Rick said. "I'm not your keeper."
"Yeah, I know… but do you need a roommate?" Stan asked.
Rick gave him a long hard look and shrugged. "If you want to… I'm not gonna stop you, Palooka."
"Those itty-bitty things gonna get me high… heh." Said Stan.
"You cut lines of horse much thinner than coke, Punchy. You wanna try it?" Said Rick.
"Yeah, why not?" Stan began to lower his head.
"Whoa, whoa… me first. You're gonna get sick."
"How you do know?"
"Because that's what happens when you do it the first time."
"How you do know?"
"Because that's what happens when you do it the first time."
Rick did a line first and sat back. He seemed to uncoil, all the tenseness and energy that Stan usually associated with Rick vanished, his eyes grew sleepy. So Stan lowered his head and did a line, he felt the rush you get with snorting anything and an odd salty taste in the back of his mouth. At first nothing, then a wave of relaxation came over him, an intense feeling of happiness, warmth and a sort of numbness, it was better than the best weed. He didn't care about anything suddenly. However his guts weren't having any of this peace and love bullshit apparently because he had to vomit. He got up and walked the short distance to the kitchen sink, which seemed a bit like an epic journey, holding it down was a challenge and he puked up all the fast food he'd been enjoying earlier. He walked back to the couch where Rick was sprawled out now.
"Wow." He said.
"Told ya, Punchy." Rick replied slowly.
Rick wrapped his arms around Stan and they kissed, in that odd slow numb world it was like being in a warm bath, but at the same time Stan could hardly feel the other man's lips and tongue against his. The high began to dissipate and they both did the other line. Then came the stomach cramps, again… and the uncontrollable itchy feeling like insects crawling on his skin. So it would take time to do another pin thin line.
"How does this work… there doesn't look like much of it," Stan mused.
"It's strong, Nance was right. The good stuff." Rick sighed contentedly.
They ended the evening in bed, naked and humping away, nothing was happening though it was like a sensation through a heavy sheet, though they both were hard it was difficult to get off. They used hands and mouths on each other but nothing much happened, eventually they fell asleep.
The next day Stan woke up groggy and nauseous. Rick was already awake, moving around the darkened bedroom while Stan stared at him blearily for a few moments.
"Get up and get packed our train leaves in two hours." Rick said, lighting a cigarette in the gloom.
"Oy," Stan sighed, rubbing his head. "Give me time to wake up. I feel terrible."
"So? Get packed, we're going to be there a day and half you need to look s—s-sharp, you need to look sharp, Stan." Rick said and took a drag from the cigarette.
Stan got up, stretched, itched, showered, got dressed, and packed his clothing, trying to go fast but feeling the way he did and with Rick breathing down his neck it was hard. However they managed to get a cab and get to the station with time to spare. The train ride was quiet, Stan got some coffee from the dining car and Rick stared out the window silent and sullen the whole trip down. They arrived at Grand Central Station, who else was there to greet them but Nancy.
"Heeeey, you two made it!" She called out cheerily. She had done her now ice blue hair in a mohawk, her make up had gotten darker, her nose was still pierced by a safety pin, despite her outrageous appearance she seemed to have shrunk, her eyes looked sunken and she was so skinny she made Rick look chubby.
"Nance, How's New York been treatin' you!?" Rick said.
She gave a sniff and a shiver. "Good, Good."
At this point Stan realized why he hadn't seen Nancy for the better part of a month. "You moved here?"
"Yeah, doofus," She said with a joking casualness. "New York City is where it's at. Glad I finally got you two to come down. I missed youse guys."
"N-Nance found us a hotel, that's got a prime location near all the hotspots." Rick said.
"Well near the only one that matters," Nancy corrected. "Rick you gotta go to CBGB, a band called The Ramones is playing there tonight."
"What kinda music do they play?" Stan asked.
"The good kind," Nancy said.
"Oh," Stan sighed. "That punk crap."
"You don't have to come if you don't want to Punchy," Rick said. "This is a big city there are l-l-lots of things to do."
They took the subway down to the east village. The hotel Nancy had gotten them was a rat trap called the 'blue diamond.' The man at the front desk was behind plate glass and Rick had to slide the money through a tray. Honestly the guy looked surprised that they were paying for the whole night. It a was double room, that fooled no one, even Nancy had long ago figured out what Stan and Rick were up too. Stan sorta wished he'd packed a sleeping bag so he didn't have to touch the sheets on the bed. There was a cockroach on it's back dying in the tub in the bathroom, and unflushed cigarette butts yellowing in the toilet bowl.
"Hey," Stan said emerging from the bathroom. "Why can't we stay with you?"
"Because," Nancy said. "Rick knows why," and glared at him.
Rick rolled his eyes. "W-w-what? Nance, you still mad about that? It was just a small fire."
"Yeah JUST a small fire." Nancy sighed. "Which turned into a bigger one, okay you ding-dongs. I've got other things to do. See you at 9:00 pm."
After Nancy left Rick looked at Stan, took out his flask and taking a swig said: "H-H-hey Punchy what do you say we 'christian' this room?"
Stan smiled and shrugged. "Haven't millions of people done it here already?"
Rick was removing his coat and shirt. "Yep, but they weren't us, Stan."
Stan felt a prickle of lust course through him. "Okay, why not."
That evening Rick and Nancy smoked their cigarettes and did lines of coke to prepare for the show. Stan got ready too, he wasn't going to a punk club to see music he hated, he was headed to the disco. He'd asked around, read a magazine and found a good one. When he stepped out of the bathroom, already in his new white leisure suit, white platform shoes, gold chain shining, and over it his leather jacket with his wallet in one pocket knuckle dusters in the other. He felt like a million bucks.
Nancy and Rick looked at him, looked at each other and bust out laughing.
"Yeah yeah, yuk it up knuckleheads, I look great." Stan remarked.
"I'm going to pretend I don't know you tonight Punchy," Rick said.
"Oh man, Stan's a disco doof," Nancy said with a laugh.
"Hey, I look cool, I'm sorry you two have no taste." Stan said.
"You meeting anyone?" Rick asked.
"Naw, I'm solo all my old friends don't 'like' or 'trust' me anymore." Stan grunted. "You borrow a few dollars from some people and suddenly they become assholes."
"Did you pay it back, Stan?" Nancy asked.
"Did they know you were borrowing it or did you just take it, Palooka?" Rick asked.
"Hey leave me alone," Stan rolled his eyes, though it was true.
He sat down and did coke, just a little, just enough so he'd be ready for the night. So they went their separate ways. There was a velvet rope and a line with a bouncer in the front. Stan had the cover charge and was considered to look cool enough to go in. He felt good, just high enough to have fun but not too high to be a total asshole. He danced for a while, some of the hottest chicks he'd seen were eyeing him up. He got a harvey wallbanger and surveyed the scene. He was deciding which of the ladies he'd talk to when he suddenly had the urge to piss. He finished his drink, put the minimum down for it and went off to the men's room. Finding the men's room empty he shrugged, unzipping he headed to the urinal and began to piss. Stan heard the door open, but ignored it. A stranger had stepped up to use the urinal beside him. Stan felt the man's eyes on him before he turned to see the man. The stranger was huge, a brute with muscles and a ginger handlebar mustache. He was grinning lecherously, predatorily at Stan.
"I like what you've got there," The stranger said. "You wanna fuck in over there?"
The man nodded his head at one of the stalls.
Stan felt a shiver of fear and his hair prickle on the back of his neck. However Stan finished pissing and gulped down his fear. He pushed it deep, deep down. Looked at the mustached stranger square in the face and said: "Naw, not my thing."
He tucked in his junk and zipped up, started to step away from the urinals towards the sinks.
The stranger stepped in front of him blocking his path. "Don't be such a fucking tease, I saw you dancing, you ain't straight, I'm gonna fuck that ass of yours and you're gonna like it."
Stan put one hand in the pocket of his jacket, he put his fingers through the brass knuckles. "I told ya, leave me alone."
The stranger put one hand on Stan's shoulder pushing him backwards and another hand over Stan's crotch. "No, you're gonna like it. I'm gonna make you like it."
There was anger and disgust bubbling away inside of Stan now, so strong he could taste the bitter hotness inside of him. With one swift movement he knocked the stranger's hand off his crotch and brought his other arm back up, ready to punch the asshole in the face. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"
The stranger caught Stan's fist, his own huge hand, blocking the punch. He grinned. "You got some fight in you, I like that."
Then he grabbed Stan's other arm, Stan fought to break free from the stranger's iron grasp but he couldn't. There was no other option, he lowered his head and rammed it into the stranger's own. The stranger was knocked back, temporarily winded. Stan reached in his other jacket pocket and put on the brass knuckles. When the stranger came at him again, he was ready. He gave the fucker the old one two. The fear was replaced with anger and triumph. His blood was up, and dodging as the man lunged at him he growled: "You want a piece of me, asshole!? COME and get it!"
That was when the stranger grabbed him by the hair and dragged him towards the sinks. Stan heard the crack of cartilage as the stranger rammed his face into the edge of the basin twice. But Stan slipped the Stranger's grip, and though his nose was bleeding he punched and kicked the bastard. He rammed his fists and feet into the other man over and over again! The Stranger laughed, got up and charged him. Stan dodged and then slammed the stranger through the men's door. The fight burst out onto the disco proper. Stan was over the stranger punching his hateful face as he lay on the ground panting and yelling something. The music had stopped, Stan looked up and saw two bouncers coming at him. He reached down, grabbed the prone man's wallet and ran. With the adrenaline pumping he got out into the street wiped the blood off his face and took the subway back to the blue diamond.
Stan was sitting up watching the test pattern when Rick came back whistling. When he saw how Stan looked, sitting there in his still rumpled blood stained leisure suit and sporting a broken nose, the song died on his lips.
"H-h-hey what what happened to you?" Rick asked.
"Not gonna talk about it." Stan growled.
"Fine," Rick grunted. "But I have some s-s-s-stuff for that nose of yours."
"Not going to the hospital." Stan mumbled.
"You don't have too." Rick said.
He reached into his luggage and pulled out a syringe and after more rummaging a vial of blue stuff. He hummed as he filled the syringe. Then walked up to Stan and plunged the syringe into the side of his broken nose. There was an odd sensation of ..of…crinkling or un-crinkling? Re-molding? Stan felt his face, his nose was no longer tender, no longer busted.
"How'd you do that?" He asked Rick.
"Science," Rick rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't even begin to understand. It involves geckos."
"Oh," Stan. "Yeah, probably wouldn't care either."