I haven't really been able to crank out a story with an actual plot yet, but I have a few older drabbles that I've unearthed. The first is specifically based on a stupid pun I made while traveling this spring, but I couldn't tell it to anyone because they wouldn't get it.
"Hey, guys." Ellis spoke up as they approached the sign. "Why'd tha' boomer go ta' 'Bama?"
No one answered him. They rarely did.
"T' get Mo'bile," The southerner grinned exhuastedly as he delivered the punch line. "Get it? 'Cause we're in Mobile? An' boomers puke out bile?"
He didn't even get a sarcastic snort from Nick.
...
If there was one thing Nick had to choose as his favorite thing about Ellis it was that stupid lip. Sure, the kid had a great personality and an (abso-fucking-lutely amazing) reputation when they were in bed, but when Ellis really, really wanted something that damn thing would wobble and sometimes he'd even catch it with those pearly whites and bite it- hot damn. The gambler couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about that lip but it had some leverage over him. Nick figured the day Ellis discovered that he had that much control over him he'd abuse it. He was stupid lip had gotten him stuck in the middle of a goddamn hillbilly convention. Ellis had even managed to convince Nick to pay. For everything.
Sitting there in full sun, wedged in-between his sweetheart and some fat, greasy, American stereotype, he was almost convinced that he was in hell. Nick shifted his position in the seat to one that ended up being even more uncomfortable, and then he couldn't find his old spot. Great. Just great. Now he could watch those stupid cars take another left turn. And another left turn. And another turn. And another. All of this brought to him by the view in his uncomfortable old stadium seat.
And then one of the green cars got slammed from the side, skidding across the asphalt and leaving a path stretching from the track to the grass. The crowd groaned and Nick, appalled, just stared in disbelief. It was like the damned hillbillies were wanting it to get worse than just permanently messing up the car and scaring the shit out of the driver.
"Twenty more bucks fer me," Nick heard Ellis yelling over the roar of engines and the crowd to his buddy next to him. Tyson? Trevor? It wasn't worth learning his name. Nick didn't really like any of Ellis's work buddies. "Reagan should'a known better than to bet on McCallihay. 'specially after last year's rep."
The older man just sighed and buried his head in his hands. It was going to be a long day.
...
Ellis really didn't like choosin' just one favorite thing about his partner. There were so many things he loved about Nick. His hair, his eyes, his smile, even that stupid expensive cologne that they'd had a fight over once. However, one thing he couldn't ever get over was how good his lover looked in readin' glasses. The nights when they didn't do a bit of friskin' Nick would prop himself up with pillows and read a novel. Ellis hadn't been much of a book worm before, but he certainly appreciated them now. He loved snugglin' up against Nick when he was readin'- he would cradle Ellis against his side with one arm, even bending at the elbow to stroke Ellis's hair in random intervals. Ellis'd just lay there and pretend to be asleep so he could watch Nick from behind his lashes. If Nick knew he watched him, he never said anything about it. He'd rather it stay that way, anyways.
...
Nick and Ellis tended to be rather adventurous with their sexual escapades, but the ones they both remembered fondly were the ones involving cars. Ellis loved just about anything on wheels, and Nick had a taste for the classy- there was no need to compromise. Men loved cars. Men loved sex. Sex in or on a car? Just about the best damn thing ever. Ellis didn't usually instigate many of their out-of-bedroom experiences, but their last rendezvous had to be one of Nick's favorites. Aside from the hotel hot tub fiasco, of course. But he'd promised to never speak of it again.