Nick scrubbed at his molars with the miniature toothbrush, making sure to reach it as far back as he could to get at every enamel surface and plump of gum with undying diligence– he was not about to lose his teeth to the apocalypse, thanks. If he ended up dead on the side of the road somewhere, he wanted to be found immaculate and in fine fashion.

Ellis had finished the same chore quite a bit more spritely and surrendered the bathroom to him to wash up before bed. It definitely wasn't the nicest of restrooms– only a toilet, a sink, and a rather dulled mirror that only gave him a view of about a third of his person, ignoring the graffiti that had been carved into the lower half of it. The walls were naturally a little grimy, the soap dispenser was cracked, broken, and empty, and a spent air-freshener lay on its side near a well-used-looking plunger. He wasn't very happy about it, but at the same time he counted his blessings for having that much– the water was running after all, thanks to being right next to the bay so at least he could freshen up.

No shower though. Which was a goddamn shame but he'd deal with it as he'd dealt before.

He spat in the sink and twisted the faucet to rinse out his mouth, gargling the liquid.

Of course he wasn't looking forward to crossing said bay tomorrow. Abandon land briefly to head for uncharted territory, with no way to retrace their steps or retreat, and with a shortage of ammunition no less. He supposed he ought to have a little more faith in his compatriots, and himself, after all they had faced so far– but his fatalism was good at second-guessing his egotism, keeping one another in check.

Nick caught his own green-eyed gaze in the mirror, oddly… Coach's words being the ones to ring through his head. He wondered now if the big man had been lost to the infection if he truly could lead the other two… if he could take that responsibility, to make end-all decisions, to be held accountable when they walked into shit, avoidable or not, to risk, not just his skin, but all of theirs.

Gambling was his thing, but the analogy held no place here; money could be made back, lives could not, and the 'game' was all skill, luck non-existent because in the real world, outside of mathematical contexts and principles, everything impacted something else, almost deterministically. Nick ran his tongue over his lower lip, still staring at his reflection contemplatively. He'd lived his life to the rules– for the most part– and done well enough for himself– though truly, it was just himself; he hadn't carried anyone up or drug anyone down during his time on the world, not more than a few shady cons and scams. Leadership was one job he definitely didn't want, not now, not ever, and in a way, he admired the football player's gruff aloofness that came with his command, that he could distance himself and not get hung up on fears and regrets.

And he wondered, way in the very back of his mind, what qualities Coach had seen in him that made him think that he could possibly ever take such a role.

He sighed thoughtfully, dismissing the judgement on his character, as he stowed all their toiletries away and zipped the bag shut.

Nick wandered out of the bathroom, closing the door behind himself, and lifted an eyebrow when he saw Ellis setting up to sleep on the rough carpeted surface that was the ground of the office. The end tally had been a close 64 to 59, granting him the couch as the victor. He smoothly made his way to the slightly ratty piece of furniture, sitting and beginning to unlace his shoes, watching the hick with a touch of amusement. "You don't actually have to sleep on the floor," Nick chuckled. "We agreed the winner gets the better sleeping arrangements, not that the loser gets the worst arrangements."

Ellis shrugged sheepishly, setting cap and glock on the nearby coffee table. "I can't really sleep sittin' up so well," he said, explaining his reasoning for not occupying one of the armchairs as he kicked off his boots.

Well fine, he'd take one of the armchairs and let the kid take the couch then; screw the bet, he just wanted El to be comfortable. He shifted to get up.

"Unless ya want me tuh sleep wit'chu," the mechanic said suddenly.

Nick stiffened at the words, sure the hick hadn't meant them that way, that he really meant offering to share space on the couch with him, so they'd both get the comfort of the larger piece of furniture. Nonetheless, it took him a couple seconds to find his voice and to slow down the blood pumping through his system at the suggestion. "Yeah, sure," he cleared his throat and rolled onto his side, scooching his back into the backrest of the couch, making room for the smaller male on the limited surface. He waited with bated breath as Ellis grinned and stood to move to the sofa. He rather quickly made himself comfortable, resting his neck on the crook of the armrest, his front pointed towards the ceiling. He wriggled his shoulders into the cushioning beneath them, bumping them unintentionally into the conman's chest a number of times.

Well, so much for the old 'head-to-toe' maneuver that typically got pulled in this sort of situation.

They lie for what, to Nick was, a few heart-pounding moments. Ellis cracked open an eye. "Y'alright?" he asked, "Ain't crowdin' ya none?"

"No, this is fine…" he responded breathlessly, thinking that the kid could physically crush him into the backrest of the couch and he'd be more than 'alright' with it. Holy fucking shit, they were pressed so close that they were touching most of the length of their torsos. He moved as if to settle in, savoring the friction it created between them. Shit. So many things… so many things that he wanted to do… that he shouldn't do. Ellis closed his eyes again, looking for all the world as comfortable and at-ease as could be, like sleeping next to the gambler was calming, natural even. Nick squeezed his eyes shut.

But it didn't help. If anything it made it ten times worse because his imagination blossomed with about a dozen different ways he could 'make his move'. He just wanted to sweep Ellis into his arms… seal his lips over him and press hot, needy kisses deep into his mouth… slip his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and tilt his head to wrap their tongues together with slick desperation… grind his hips and body against him… roll him over on top of him, body bucking, arching, keening up at him…

Oh God, he wanted it so bad. Only sheer force of will kept him from developing a hard-on right there next to the kid. Fuck, it really was like he was sixteen again.

He re-opened his eyes to stop the images. He cursed himself for not having found some chance to rub one out after their shift before bunking down– in that bathroom… something. But it was too late now. Nick swallowed. He'd taken care of himself in the shower just that morning, but fuck it all if he wasn't already horny again. He exhaled slowly, hushed so it wouldn't be heard by the mechanic beside him as he desperately tried to quell the thoughts. It was beginning to get irritatingly inconvenient to be so easily aroused.

Though, with the kid lying there right next to him, having offered– no, asked– for the proximity, could he really be blamed?

He was lying right there… that muscular chest rising and falling, just the hint of nipple poking through too-tight shirt… Fuck… and lying on his back like that, his normally baggy overalls did nothing to conceal the bulge that was the hick's sizable package…

Nick nearly groaned aloud, biting his bottom lip to stop the noise from escaping as he smothered it in his throat.

He couldn't lie there and do nothing though. He needed to do something, even if it was just some form of minor contact. Nick licked his lips, recalling the way Ellis had touched him the past couple of times… the way he had simply put his hand over his own in soothing, yet oddly intimate, gesture. He could replicate that, though to a slightly greater degree… just offer a friendly touch in return to what the hick had offered him… that couldn't be taken wrong, right?

Nick bided his time with measured breaths.

He waited a good couple of minutes before he dared to place his arm over the southerner's rising and falling chest.

The kid gave a purr, a smile tugging his lips. Nick didn't know if the reaction was made in his sleep, or if El was fully conscious, but the mechanic lifted his own arm, formerly folded at his side, and wrapped it snuggly over his, ensuring that the jacketed appendage couldn't slip away from where it lie on his chest, wriggling ever so slightly once again with a blissful sigh.

His breath hitched slightly and Nick had to force himself a second time to calm down and stay cool. He forced his gaze away from lower parts of the kid's anatomy and instead made to admire the face lying so near to his own.

He was so warm and beautiful. Nick ran his eyes over the peaceful face with reverent countenance, wishing he could dislodge the arm he had pinned beneath himself to run his hands through the curly hair that stuck up at all kinds of odd angles from the arm of the couch disrupting it. Ellis' face was so close, so near to his own that he could appreciate every little detail, every little feature– his cleft chin, the stubble upon it, his thick lips ever so gently parted in sleep, revealing the hint of white incisors lying teasingly beyond… his eyebrows two dirty blonde sweeps that complimented the jut of his brow, completely relaxed and free of any possible wrinkle of worry or doubt, eyelids folded neatly underneath them in the recess of his skull, eyelashes thick like the rest of his hair… the round of the end of his nose, his nostrils gently flaring as he breathed in and out, the dip of the bridge, his little scar notched so cleanly across the skin between his currently folded eyes… a little gouge of flesh that would never grow back and always be lost.

Nick wanted to kiss it.

Wanted to purse his lips, lean over, and kiss the little mar that graced an otherwise 'flawless' face…. though Nick thought it made him all the more beautiful.

He could probably study Ellis all night long if he let himself. But they had a big day tomorrow and he needed coherency, needed his rest. It wouldn't do him much good to pour over the mechanic now if they died tomorrow. But the longer he lie beside him, the more worry melted away, replaced by…

Hope.

Nick licked his lips. Maybe… if they did evac tomorrow… maybe he would get to bunk with the kid in the internments, get to share a living space. Maybe he'd get more nights… like this one… to talk to him, be close to him.

Yeah, and maybe the military would have a shortage of twin beds.

Fat chance.

Still… he could pray for something like that.

He pressed his face a little closer, his lips near to brushing El's ear. "I never want to lose you…" he whispered to the sleeping hick; the young man didn't so much as twitch in response. Nick closed his eyes, savoring the warm body against him, beneath his arm, and slowly drifted off into the comforts of contented sleep.