Time frame: Cold Stream Pt 1.
Rating: M for language, pilot-murdering, attempted m/m.
Established relationships: Mentions of Frochelle, Nellis
Description: Nick is in chronic pain and drinking seems to help. But Nick is more of an asshole when he's drunk, loud too.
*Note: Cold Stream is not a canon part of the L4D2 game, so I will be branching off a bit from the canon campaigns from here.
"You doing okay back there?" Rochelle called.
"Uh huh." Nick answered, but he was not doing okay.
As if being rescued correctly was too much to ask, the four once again found themselves on the ground, in the middle of nowhere, trapped in a mountainous area surrounding a stream. The scenery was nice, and had it not been for crash landing yet again, this would have been an ideal place to go camping. As it stood, nobody was in the mood to be outside.
It had been a two day Hell in this wilderness after the helicopter went down. Everything was going well until the chopper started to become unsteady in the sky and suddenly the pilot was not at the helm. He was snarling and flailing toward the only humans nearby before Nick shot him in the face. It was downhill from there. Luckily some of the trees broke their fall as the helicopter dropped from the sky.
What else could they do aside from taking everything in the helicopter that would be of any use and moving on toward a lookout point? Maybe yet another plane would see them? Maybe Nick wouldn't have to murder another pilot?
"The safehouse is just up ahead, hang in there." Coach called.
They'd been moving ahead at a slow pace. With the rough landing, Nick's leg was in far worse shape than it had been. Even with the pills, walking hurt and running was almost impossible. They did not cover a lot of ground together.
"The sun is going down so we might as well." Ellis was trying to be encouraging, trying to make it seem like it was not just because of Nick that they needed to stop for the night.
The safehouse itself was a dumpy cabin, old and falling into a state of disrepair, but it was definitely not the worst place they had to stay in. It was shelter from the cold that came over the area when the sun went down, and the windows and doors were both holding up, so there was not a lot to complain about.
"Here ya go, buddy. A swig or two might take the edge off." Ellis said, offering Nick the bottle of whiskey he found unopened under the sink.
"Thanks." Nick said, leaning against the kitchen counter to avoid sitting. His leg was weak and if he sat down, he would have to depend on one of his companions to help him back up again.
Coach and Rochelle made themselves busy digging through any leftover cans that might contain some decent food.
"Can't help but notice that this would have been an easier trip with more people." Rochelle started.
"Yeah, the infected aren't really outta control here, but if we woulda teamed up with those people we met back when we had the car, we'd be a lot closer to the lookout." Coach added.
"Hell, if you didn't have an injured, pilot-murdering asshole slowing you down, the same could be said." Nick added, taking in a mouthful of whiskey. "God this tastes like stomach bile."
"Nah, Nick. Don't be like that. It would be the same if any one of us got banged up." Ellis commented, completely sincere.
"Ro is probably just thinkin about that biker guy." Coach prodded, lightening the mood.
"Please, I am not. Well- I guess, maybe. I guess I am a little. Nothing serious, just wondering if they had any better luck than we did."
"Maybe, I wonder if Zoey is doin okay." Ellis added to Rochelle's concerns.
"With the three of them, they probably are keepin it together about as well as we are." Coach was only half-paying attention, leaving the conversation to continue between Rochelle and Ellis.
"You think we'll run into them again?" Ellis asked.
"Why? You actually think you might try talking to Zoey this time?" Rochelle replied, smirking.
"Maybe. But I was askin more for your sake. You think if we met again, you might convince that guy to come with us?" Ellis smirked as well, giving Rochelle a light shove.
"We just met, goofball."
"Yeah, but this is the end of the world. Like I said before, first dates aren't gonna happen anymore. You need to just be assertive and run with it." Ellis couldn't imagine taking his own advice.
Back when the group first ran into the only other threesome left alive, Ellis barely knew the people he traveled with. It seemed like such a long time ago and he had to admit that he probably drove his friends crazy talking about Zoey for a week or so after their meeting. It tapered off to once every couple of days and then when he started secretly 'seeing' Nick, he completely stopped mentioning Zoey out of some confusion for how the ethics for these situations were supposed to work.
But after Nick put him in his place regarding the nature of their relationship, or lack thereof, he once again found it okay to talk to Rochelle and Coach about the others, and about the possibility of meeting Zoey again. He wasn't as excited about it as he'd been in the recent past, but talking about someone that was kind to him made him feel good again.
"I'll talk to Francis if you talk to Zoey." Rochelle dared.
"Well, I could try. I might get all nervous again. I mean, before the zombies, a girl like her was way outta my league." Ellis reasoned.
"But now that the zombies killed off most potential suitors, so..."
Nick sighed loudly, dragging himself across the room with a limp he gave up trying to hide.
"What happened? Did I fall into a coma and land in the middle of the goddamn View? Death, just take me now, I'm gonna hit the hay for a few. My head is killing me in this fucking knitting corner." Nick continued to grumble all the way down the hall until he reached the back bedroom.
"Just leave him be for a bit. That leg tryin to heal is probably wearin him thin." Coach assured the other two people left in the room.
He got pissed off over an hour ago. He'd been in the back room for most of the evening and Ellis felt it was time to go and check on Nick. He wanted to make sure the older man was okay even if it meant getting yelled at. He knocked on the door twice, waiting an appropriate period of time with no answer before he decided to enter the room anyway.
"Nick, you okay in here?" He asked as his eyes adjusted to the dark.
Nick was laying on his back on the floor. His pants and jacket were thrown in a heap under the window sill and his blue shirt had a couple buttons unfastened. His bare legs were propped on the bed and the near empty alcohol bottle lay a few inches from where his right hand rested.
"Nick?" Ellis called, snapping Nick out of his momentary lapse of consciousness.
"Did I ever tell you about the time that I was Nick and I was an alcoholic?" He slurred.
Ellis went to him, crouching down on the floor beside him. He picked up the bottle and examined it before laying it on the floor again.
"You drank that whole thing?" It was only a pint of whiskey, but for one man to drink by himself, it was a lot.
"Uh huh." Nick nodded, eyes rolling about in their sockets.
"This ain't good. I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know you had a problem."
"Psh, problem? I don't have a damn problem, Aylus. I feel fucking good for once." Nick smiled, trying
to turn onto his side and failing.
"But you're so damn drunk you can't get up." Ellis took his friend's shoulders and helped him turn around, propping him against the side of the bed, where his legs were only a moment ago.
"Nah. Help me up. I'm...I'm fine."
"You ain't fine. How long has it been since you drank like this?" Ellis was tapping Nick's cheek, trying to help his eyes focus.
"Three months…three months since I drank at all. I haven't felt like me in…fuckinlong…" Nick's hand wrapped around Ellis' wrist, pulling him into a kiss.
Ellis ignored the alcohol on Nick's breath as he pulled the gambler onto his lap, missing being kissed. Simply having drunk kisses placed along his neck made him want Nick. They hadn't kissed on the mouth in two days. Sex just turned into sex after Ellis dared question the nature of their relationship. He acted like it didn't hurt, but it hurt bad. Nick meant the world to him and knowing he was only a warm body to the other man wasn't something he wanted to face. He almost hated sex now. Sure, it still felt good, but it was like being someone's whore. It wasn't passionate anymore and Nick always took him from behind now, so Ellis would spend the whole time with his face hidden, forbidding himself to cry. He would warn himself mentally, You aint a girl, Ellis, toughen up.
His arms wrapped tight around Nick as he returned kisses to the gambler's cheeks and forehead. He tasted like sweat, but he felt so good, so warm again. He felt like the Nick that Ellis tried so hard not to fall in love with. The Nick that held him when they were alone. The Nick that would kiss him just because he liked the feeling of the younger man's lips. The Nick that would accidentally compliment him, accidentally use the word 'we' instead of 'I' when he talked about survival.
Ellis let himself enjoy this. Yes, Nick was incredibly drunk, but it was a kiss. This wasn't hurting anyone. They'd kissed hundreds of times by that point. His mouth trailed down to the older man's neck, one of his favorite parts of Nick's body. He loved the shivers he caused, the way Nick's arms tightened around him.
"Hey Ellis…" Nick groaned.
"Uh huh?" came a moist reply as Ellis detached himself from Nick's skin.
"Fuck me…" he whispered, grinding his hips down into his lover's lap.
That brought everything to a screeching halt. Ellis froze in place, moving back enough to where Nick's lips couldn't reach him.
"Scuse me?"
"You heard me. I said 'fuck me'. I get in the mood when I've been drinking. And you're here, so…" Nick slurred again, trying to connect their mouths.
"You're drunk." Ellis countered.
"So? I want you. I wanna get…fucked so bad…looks like it feels good when I do it to you…" with each sentence fragment, he continued his efforts at trying to get them kissing again.
How did it look like it felt good? Lately, the two wouldn't even look at each other during coitus. It felt better back when Ellis could at least fool himself into thinking the two were making love, back when Nick did everything in his power to make sure his partner wasn't in any pain.
"No, Nick. Not always. It hurts sometimes."
"Kid, I can't feel shit right now-"
"I aint doing this. Not with you drunk." He'd never had sex with an intoxicated girl and didn't plan on breaking his moral record with Nick.
Now it was up to Ellis to make sure Nick wasn't going to get hurt. He didn't want the other man's first time being taken to be painful. He remembered his first time, trying not to scream in pain for fear of embarrassing Nick if the others were to come check on them. He remembered the concern in Nick's eyes when Ellis let on that he was hurting. He wanted to smile at the way Nick stopped immediately and held him close for the rest of the night.
"Baby…come on. Don't be like that. Did I…you mad?" Nick's mouth went for Ellis' neck and his hand cupped the younger man's crotch.
"Stop it." Ellis tried to pull the offending hand away, but Nick's other hand caught him and in a sloppy move, flipped the two onto the floor. Nick was on top, straddling the southerner's hips. Both hands held his wrists above his head. His balance was off, so his weight was really pressed hard on his arms as the older man swayed slightly.
"Come on, El…" he shifted his hips down, grinding their crotches together, waiting for the younger man to harden under him.
"Nick, I don't want to." Ellis didn't struggle. He didn't feel that he needed to. Even drunk, he truly believed Nick would not have forced him.
"Why?" he demanded, letting go of Ellis's wrists to work his pants open. He nearly tipped over onto the floor trying to reposition and had his lover moved at all, he would have fallen.
"Because, Nick…I love you."
Now it was Nick's turn to freeze. He didn't know what to feel, but he was feeling something: was it guilt? Shock? Fear? Disgust? Anger? It certainly wasn't love. No way, he didn't love this dumb kid. No way in Hell. How could he when he was just barely starting to even like Ellis? He stared down at the younger man, whose blue eyes burned into his with…what was that? Anger? No, it was pain. Nick knew pain, and this was pain.
"…Ellis…" he started.
"Listen, you don't hafta say it back. But don't lecture me about it. Don't tell me how to feel. I'm just telling you why I don't want to do this anymore. Because it hurts that I love you and you don't love me and I can't. I can't just keep giving you everything when that's all there is to me. You make me feel so dirty and worthless… I'm so sorry, Nick. I can't just have sex when I love you more with every touch." His eyes were welling up, so he stopped speaking. Ellis was not going to cry like a girl. Nick already treated him like a girl…no, like a whore, and he wasn't going to cry, at least not until Nick stumbled off of him and struggled to get up, leg collapsing under him.
"Hey, that bandage looks damp. Lemme change it." Ellis offered, moving down to Nick's leg, snapped out of his moment of embarrassment and sadness with the simple need to help his friend.
"Knock yourself out." came a totally aloof reply.
Ellis took his time, carefully cutting through the layers of bandage with a knife and when it was completely split, he pulled the wrapping away and lifted the pad.
The wound underneath looked angry. It was red and swollen, leaking puss tinted with blood.
"Ugh, that looks pretty grungy." Nick commented, eyeing his leg in disgust.
"Shit, Nick. Why didn't you tell anyone it was getting like this?" Ellis demanded, worry in his expression.
"I didn't think it would help. We haven't had the best first aid lately. It started hurting a lot after we landed, but I thought I just hit it on something. I have been trying to keep it clean-"
"You have an infection. This is bad."
"Yeah, no shit." Nick scoffed, annoyed and grossed out. "I can't walk on it anymore. I have a raging fever, and I'm probably going to die within the next-"
"You aint. I won't let ya die." Ellis insisted.
"Yeah, well if I do die, know this," Nick slurred, "in the 90s, I watched a movie called Fight Club and I thought Brad Pitt was hot as fuck."
"That's cause you're gay."
"What? I'm not-" Nick stifled a burp, "I'm not goddamn gay."
"You're over here on the floor with no pants on tellin me about Brad Pitt. That's pretty gay, Nick."
"You're fuckin gay, goddamn it, Ellis." Nick insisted, leaning toward the younger man to drive his point home.
"Okay. Settle down. I'm gonna get Ro to help me clean this."
Ellis left the room momentarily, returning with Rochelle, who had a handful of various first aid items. As the pair approached Nick, they noticed that the front of his shirt was damp and the smell of alcohol and bile floated about the room.
"You throw up?" Ellis asked.
"The smell was getting to me." Nick answered as the younger man set himself on the task of cleaning up Nick's vomit. It was all liquid, so it wasn't difficult. Nick's vomiting was unsettling. The smell of the infection was not that bad, not strong enough to smell from where Nick was sitting in proximity to the wound.
"It's probably the fever." Rochelle assured, cleaning the wound the best she could before wrapping it again. She gave the gambler a handful of pills, hoping that it would help take the fever down and relieve pain long enough for him to sleep.