A/N: I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written for a fic, but I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you guys enjoy the read!
It wasn't until a week later that the survivors ran into their previous acquaintances. The weather was warm and sunny without a cloud in the sky, so Rochelle had insisted that they lounge by the pool while they waited for Ellis to be discharged from the infirmary, as today was finally the day of his release. The youngest team member hadn't allowed anyone but Rochelle to visit him during his recovery; this infuriated Nick, but Coach was more understanding. Nick refused to show any kind of emotion regarding the return of Ellis; whenever his name was mentioned, the conman would become instantly cold and stoic. However, Rochelle was excited and even had a welcoming celebration planned, and Coach admitted he was looking forward to "having the sunny little guy back".
The pool was a popular place that day, unsurprisingly. Children laughed and yelled as they played in the water, splashing each other and challenging contests. Adults enjoyed the refreshing water, too, and alternated between sunbathing and swimming, some grilling up hot dogs. That was the best part of this new setting: the cruise seemed to have an unlimited bounty of real food that must've been frozen in storage or something; apparently nobody questioned this, except Nick, who was shot down anytime he attempted to voice questions regarding the matter.
Coach was in the pool in his assigned, provided swimming trunks, orchestrating a game of volleyball amongst the children with a big inflatable ball, his booming voice easily breaking through the unorganized clamor to give instruction, and Rochelle lounged prettily in her chair, stretching out to sunbathe in a surprisingly cute bikini that she'd chosen over the offered one-piece. She rotated to her stomach with a contented murmur and re-opened her magazine once she'd adjusted it properly below her chair to read.
"So, when are we supposed to meet up in the arcade for Ellis's party? And why'd you pick such a dumb location, anyway? One of the bars or casinos would've been a much better choice," Nick said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. He was sitting in the lounge chair beside her, but the back of his chair was propped up half-way. Rochelle and Coach had both laughed at him when they'd first seen him in his swimming trunks, earning a scowl from the conman. Coach had explained it was just weird seeing 'Mr. Fancy-Suit' in something so bare and casual, while Rochelle teased him with a catcall and a waggle of her eyebrows.
"Okay Nicolas, I believe now that you really were a ladies' man! Whatcha doin' hiding all that under that suit of yours?" Rochelle had teased, pulling a scoff from Coach. Embarrassed and irritated, the conman was at a loss for words and simply stormed to the sunbathing section to pick out a chair, his neck flushed.
"In an hour. And really, Nick? You know as well as I do that Ellis will flip when he sees the arcade," Rochelle replied simply, turning the page of her magazine. The conman sighed, longing to return to the casino he'd visited last night. It had felt almost pornographically good to have those poker chips back in between his fingers, tumbler of bourbon within reach. Nick took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke wistfully at the memory. Yeah, he'd immediately picked his smoking habit back up when he'd seen the availability; cancer wasn't exactly a concern during the zombie apocalypse. As much as he hated to admit it, things almost felt…normal. But still, he was the only one to scheme and strategize late at night when he had trouble sleeping; there had yet to be any word on the matter of the future.
"Oh Lord, sweetheart, I sure missed that ass."
The deep, gravelly voice of Francis startled both survivors; Nick sharply turned around as Rochelle jumped into a sitting position, also looking for the source of the teasing words. Francis and Zoey stood there, both grinning, and both defiant in the changes to their outfits. With his vest still in inventory, Francis wore the standard swimming trunks, but he'd cut up one of the issued black undershirts and designed himself a durag. As if joining Francis's defiant act in solidarity, Zoey had also taken a strip of the black fabric and tied it around her head. Nick rolled his eyes, but he was unable to repress a grin as he rose to greet their friends. Francis clasped his hand around Nick's and pulled him into a quick one-armed hug of greeting.
"Try to contain yourself, Francis, there are children around," Rochelle said indignantly with a sniff, though her eyes sparkled, and a smile pulled at the corners of her full lips. Francis tugged her into an embrace with a laugh.
"Baby, there's no containing any of this," he boasted playfully as Nick and Zoey regarded each other.
"Cupcake," Nick greeted simply with a humored quirk of his eyebrow. Zoey tilted her head in mock-arrogance.
"Colonel Sanders," she replied, recycling the nickname created by Francis.
"I'm not even wearing the suit," the conman pointed out. She shrugged, purposely and pointedly giving him a slow once-over.
"I'm aware," the girl replied. At this point, Coach had noticed his team speaking with the other survivors. He excused himself from the children with a final booming encouragement and easily pulled himself from the pool.
"Francis, Zoey! Good to see ya'll here in one piece," Coach exclaimed as he jogged over. The three exchanged hugs and greetings, and the group was careful to not mention Louis and Bill, knowing that it was a sore subject for Zoey, who hadn't quite gotten over the grieving of their fallen friends just yet.
"So, um, where's Ellis?" Zoey asked, her attempt at not appearing too interested failing. A hot, sharp stab of jealousy cut through Nick, and he had to actively refrain from reacting; instead, he remained standing casually with a look of cool indifference on his face. Close in age and sharing many similar sentiments, the two young survivors had quickly hit it off upon meeting. Ellis had been glued to Zoey's hip immediately and for the duration of their short time together, following her around like a lovestruck puppy, and she'd feigned disinterest. Nick had caught her stolen glances at the young mechanic, though, the way her soft brown eyes roamed his body when he wasn't looking, the affectionate smile that touched her lips whenever he told a Keith story, and her clearly flirtatious teasing of him. At the time, Nick had mocked Ellis for their puppy love and had tormented him over the flirting, but, looking back, Nick realized that the senseless irritation had actually stemmed from jealousy. This knowledge further soured his mood, and he took a long drag from his cigarette again.
"He got banged up on the way to the ship, but I'm going to be picking him up from the infirmary in a little less than an hour," Rochelle replied with a knowing smile. Nick narrowed his eyes at the sight of that smile through his smoky exhale.
"Ro's got a whole celebration planned for his return. There's an arcade downstairs; it's huge, has a bar and a bowling alley, those glowing lights, whole nine yards. We were gonna surprise him with it and bring out a cake, you guys should come with us," Coach said. Nobody noticed the prickly silence of the conman. Zoey beamed at the offer, practically glowing, and Francis agreed enthusiastically, down for any opportunity that involved being near Rochelle. He plucked the cigarette from Nick's fingers to steal a drag before Nick snatched it back.
The survivors sat down on the loungers, sharing seats with one another and moving furniture to form a circle. Rochelle and Francis shared a lounger, naturally, their shoulders bumping affectionately, and Coach and Zoey shared a platonic space. Nick remained standing, leaning against the railing with his cigarette. They all easily flowed into conversation, updating each other on events they'd missed. They discussed the hardships they'd all faced, the fears they'd overcome, and their relief of safety. It was so intimate and bonding to come together as a group like this, a group that understood one another and had gone through the same struggles. Even Nick found himself joining the conversations with willing animation, cracking the group up with a few funny tales from their adventures.
"It's crazy to laugh at it now because at the time it was such an awful situation, but I can't help it. There's Ellis, struggling to march through all that mud and swamp shit, we're being eaten alive by those damn bugs, the sun's got us absolutely drenched in sweat, and he loses a shoe in the muck! He's got one shoe on and he had to leave the other behind because Nick wasn't gonna stop for him to find it. Poor kid's hobbling along with one shoe! Horde started chasing us, and there's Ellis running unevenly with one damn shoe on, took a minute before he tossed that one damn sneaker. If you could've only seen the way he tried running," Rochelle told the group, hardly able to contain her laughter long enough to finish the story. The rest of the group roared with laughter, Coach doubling over as he slapped his knee, and even Nick was laughing.
"They was a good pair of sneakers, too. Sure gonna miss 'em."
Everyone whirled around at the wistful southern drawl, Zoey nearly toppling from her chair, and Nick almost dropped his cigarette, coughing his lungs out through a failed exhale that had quickly turned into a sharp inhale of surprise halfway through. His eyes watering from the coughing spell, Nick blinked rapidly as he took in the sight of their southern friend for the first time in a week.
Ellis held himself upright with crutches, wearing a white undershirt with his swimming trunks, hiding his deep scars. His casted left leg was carefully positioned for comfort and stability, and beneath his cheerful grin was an uncomfortable tightness. His wounded arm that should've been in a sling was curved over a crutch at an awkward angle due to the splint it was in. Knowing the young mechanic, Nick figured the kid refused to use a wheelchair as he was probably instructed. His face was covered in healing bruises, but the swelling had gone down, and the laceration on his lower lip had started to scab and knit back together. Despite his broken and battered state, Ellis seemed genuinely happy and relieved to be reunited with his friends. His eyes were shining with excitement, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. The survivors quickly burst into motion; Rochelle squealed his name as she visibly stopped herself from launching into his arms. Instead, she hovered at his elbow and touched his bruised cheeks. Francis recklessly clapped his back, not noticing Ellis's wince over the stern scolding he immediately received from Rochelle, and Coach simply clasped the back of the kid's neck gently with a beaming, proud smile. Zoey had hung back a little, acting as indifferently as possible, but when those baby blues landed on her and lit up, her act went out the window and she fluttered at his other side, boldly giving his cheek a light kiss, which sent another ugly flare of jealousy through the conman, who remained rooted by the railing. Everyone was chattering to him at once, practically jumping over each other to speak to their missed teammate. But Ellis was glancing around them, searching for Nick. When he spotted the conman, he seemed to freeze, paralyzed by Nick's cool gaze. The conman simply inclined his head in greeting and Ellis stayed motionless and silent, ensnared in the conman's attention, until Nick broke eye contact to look out at the sea, his cigarette back at his lips with a perfectly steady hand. Rochelle broke Ellis from his daze.
"I was gonna pick you up from the infirmary! You should be in a wheelchair until your arm heals," Rochelle chastised half-heartedly. Behind her, Francis was mimicking Ellis by pretending to limp around with a mock woe-is-me look on his face. Coach snorted as he struggled to choke down his laughter and Zoey shot him daggers with her eyes. But Ellis thought it was amusing, bursting out laughing when Rochelle turned to see what had distracted him, and caught Francis mid-hobble. The biker immediately straightened and gave her an innocent look, which Rochelle rolled her eyes at.
"I ain't wheelin' aroun' this ship like some kinda burden. 'sides, I ain't even bothered none by these crutches. I'm fine, I'm much better. It's not forever, anyhow," Ellis protested good-naturedly.
"I getcha, buddy. Hey, we've got something to show you, don't we, guys? C'mon, follow me," Coach said. He strode towards the stairs leading to where the arcade was located, Rochelle rushing to catch up to him, not wanting the big guy to steal her limelight. Francis was at her heels boasting about one of his past injuries, and Zoey follow him under the assumption that Ellis was at her side. But the mechanic had hesitated, watching as Nick pushed away from the railing to join the team.
"Lookin' good, Aylus," Nick had commented, using the mocking nickname he'd made for the hillbilly. Ellis wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not, so he stammered over his words as he limped alongside the conman.
"Hey, geniuses, how's the cripple gonna get down these stairs?" Nick called sardonically to the rest of the team, who'd already made it to the end of the stairs. They gawked at him as realization dawned, and Ellis bristled angrily.
"I ain't no cripple," he snapped.
"Help him down, obviously. You need a formal invitation or something? A singing telegram to deliver a request on a silver platter? C'mon, use that felonious brain of yours," Francis hollered. The sniggering of his teammates put a scowl on Nick's face, and his crabby attention turned to the humiliated, annoyed mechanic, who already looked like he was going to refuse the aid.
"Get on my back, then, Overalls," Nick grumbled, kneeling to one knee.
"Hell naw. I'm gonna look for an elevator," Ellis immediately refused. He nearly shrank from Nick's barked reply.
"Don't be an idiot, just get on my back so we can get these stairs over with. It's not a big deal, so what, your leg's busted. Ro's stupidly excited over this surprise, you'll let her down if you don't just suck it up and go with me."
Chastised and accepting defeat, the mechanic reluctantly limped over to the conman, his movements slow and labored as he struggled with his bad arm. But Nick never complained about the time it took to reach him, nor did he jab fun at him for it. Ellis propped his crutches against the wall and pivoted towards Nick, who patiently waited on his knees. Awkwardly, he looped his arms around his neck, flushing at the feel of his warm, bare flesh, and used his upper body strength to pull himself to the other man's back securely, giving an embarrassed huff as he slung his good leg around Nick's hip and carefully tucked the bad one against his upper thigh. When he verbally assented that his position was secure, Nick rose steadily to his feet, cognizant of how Ellis was positioned to avoid jostling his injuries. For some reason, this little show of care put a warm feeling in Ellis's chest and his arms tightened. The conman gripped the back of Ellis's good thigh tightly to keep him in place and used his other hand to grab the crutches from the wall. He effortlessly carried him down the stairs in silence, Ellis praying that Nick couldn't feel his hammering heart against his back, the rate racing as he breathed in Nick's familiar scent and felt each flex of muscle against his body. When they reached the bottom, Nick carefully helped Ellis to his feet, holding his shoulder steadily as he handed over the crutches and allowed the mechanic to stabilize.
"Thanks," Ellis mumbled sheepishly. Nick merely gave him an unreadable look and led him to where the others were.
The younger man nearly toppled from his crutches when they entered the mystery room and realized he'd been brought to an arcade. The rest of the survivors were circled around a large table, waiting for him, a real and actual cake on the table. Stunned, excited, and utterly enthused, Ellis was at a loss for words and instead whooped and cheered, practically vibrating with energy. His grin was so huge it nearly split his lip back open, and he hobbled as fast as he could to his friends, who all cheered him on. Francis realized he'd missed the initial entry and practically ran to re-join the group, carrying a platter in each hand like a pro server, each one crammed with shots, beers, and cocktails. The drinks precariously sloshed as Francis reached the table; Rochelle quickly aided him in setting the alcohol on the table.
"Ya'll are amazing, this whole ship is amazing, it don't even feel real! It can't be real! I musta died an' gone ta Heaven!" Ellis hollered with a whoop. The team laughed at his excitement and started passing drinks around as Rochelle neatly sliced the cake. Nick slid into a chair, doing his best to ignore Zoey helping Ellis into the chair beside hers, but internally he wanted nothing more than for the girl to fly overboard. He moodily swiped as many shots as he could pull with one hand and tossed one back with a stony glower. The rest of the table was nothing but smiles, boisterous laughter, and a roar of over-stimulated conversation as multiple survivors talked at once. Cake slices were passed around, and Nick was the only one to refuse a plate, having never liked most desserts. He faded into the background as he solitarily took shot after shot, the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat grounding him to reality as his mind drifted from him. Soon he was chasing that burn, desperate to keep it as it was the only thing he currently felt, the only thing that made him real and formed.
"Slow down there, brother. Plenty more where that came from," Francis commented, noticing the growing collection of empty glasses in front of Nick, who gave him a withering look.
"What, can't keep up? Did your manhood stay behind with your greasy old vest?" Nick challenged, surprisingly articulate, though his flushed cheeks and hazy eyes said otherwise. Francis perked, his inner alpha-male immediately flaring to life, and he puffed his chest.
"Oh please, Colonel, you ain't got nothing on me. I thought you were a better gambler than to be foolish enough to compete against me in a drinking challenge," he replied smugly.
So, the two went at it as if they owned the last of the alcohol in the world while the others enjoyed the arcade with Ellis. Every time Nick saw Zoey helping Ellis to a different game, he was further and further spurred to keep up with Francis. The bartender had given up after his fourth return to their table, so he left a couple of bottles of bourbon with them to avoid more trips back and forth.
Rochelle and Coach were in their own challenge of who could win the most tickets, so they were enthralled in their own activities, bantering good-naturedly as they moved from game to game, their laughter echoing the large room. Fortunately, there were plenty of seated gaming machines, so Ellis was frequently able to rest and continue enjoying himself. They were having a blast out in the arcade, as if life was normal and they weren't straggled survivors on board a lone cruise ship heading towards an unknown destination. The music was practically deafening, and Coach entertained them all with his silly dance moves; Ellis swore up and down that if he wasn't trapped with crutches, he'd blow their minds with his skilled dancing abilities.
The night aged gracefully, overflowing with cheer, too many games to play in one-night, unlimited nachos and loaded fries, drinks, and anything they could want. It really did feel like they'd died and gone to Heaven. The zombie apocalypse felt surreal, as if they'd all had a shared nightmare. Yet they all avoided the horror games, pretending like they weren't there. Eventually, Ellis was clearly worn out and though he wouldn't admit it out loud, Rochelle knew just by looking at him, so she called an end to the celebration, announcing it was time for bed and assuring that there would be plenty more fun to be had tomorrow. Coach had won the ticket contest, and Francis had won the drinking contest when Nick had gone to the bathroom to dry heave. He'd managed to will the nausea away and had returned to the table, but Francis had finished the remaining drinks in his absence. He was too drunk to intelligently argue, so he'd grudgingly accepted his loss. It wasn't long after this that the night came to an end. Francis was in the middle of another drunken, rambling story when the rest of the team came up to the table to collect their belongings.
"Look at you two," Rochelle said disapprovingly with a shake of her head. Francis took her hand and kissed it.
"The only eyes I want on me are your gorgeous brown ones," Francis slurred flirtatiously, and Rochelle grinned despite herself. He rose and wrapped an arm around her curvy waist with a content sigh.
"C'mon sweetheart, what d'ya say about an afterparty at my place?" he asked suggestively with a silly waggle of his eyebrows. Coach had already hoisted Ellis onto his back, knowing Nick was completely wasted and unable to carry the mechanic. Rochelle glanced hesitantly at her roommate, who gave a nod of agreement and a smirk.
"Fine, I guess I wouldn't mind a few drinks. A few. For a little bit. It's already late," Rochelle relented, her act of dignity betrayed by the natural way she relaxed into Francis's arms. He cheered and practically carried her up the stairs in his haste to get to his room, his boisterous voice fading in the distance. Nick stayed behind for an unknown length of time, so utterly smashed that he physically couldn't rise to his feet and had no concept of time. He rested his head in his hands, slumped at the table, images of Zoey laughing with Ellis and touching his arm intimately flashing behind his closed eyelids. Ellis's stupid, contagious laugh rang in his ears, and he couldn't get Zoey's arms around Ellis's waist as she eased him into a gaming chair out of his mind. The roaring jealousy was a hot, live wire in the pit of his stomach, branching into irrational anger that nearly made him vomit. Why was the kid so infatuated with Zoey anyway? She wasn't anything special. She didn't save his life. She didn't accompany him through the apocalypse. Nick hadn't realized he'd been gripping an empty shot glass until it shattered in his hand, the glass cutting his skin and burning the wound with the drops of liquor that had lingered at the bottom of the glass. He blinked blearily at it, the pain waking him from his drunken stupor enough to get up from the table. He could barely see, blinded by inebriation, but somehow, he managed to stumble up the stairs without toppling backward. It reminded him of his younger days when he'd ruled the casinos.
One minute he was reaching the stairs, and then he blinked, and he was at the door of the suite he'd be sharing with Ellis. He stared at the door, swaying, and holding onto the wall to remain upright, depression squeezing his heart in its ugly grip. The mechanic was probably asleep by now, worn out from his big day back to society. Nick's eyes fluttered shut and he imagined their previous nights of sleeping together, Ellis's body heat radiating like a furnace beside him, keeping him warm when it was cold, falling asleep to the younger man's slow, steady breathing. It had been a long time since they'd slept separate; most safehouses were small with limited sleeping space. Sometimes they'd get lucky with a house that had multiple bedrooms, but for safety reasons they always honored the buddy system; nobody went anywhere alone. Even trips to the bathroom had a buddy outside the door just in case. So, they at least always shared a room. Nick comforted himself with the knowledge that at least they were still sharing a room, but deep down it wasn't enough, especially when he was as drunk as he was.
What does it even matter? There's no ignoring the way Zoey looks at Ellis with her stupid, big eyes. He spent the whole night with her. They were inseparable.
Nick curled his wounded hand into a tight fist, the bite of the glass chasing his bitter thoughts away, and finally grabbed the door handle. It was a good thing the door was unlocked, because he was far too drunk to utilize a key. He stumbled into the room, eager to climb into bed, but when he focused his hazy eyes on Ellis's side of the room, vision blurry and rocking, he realized that Ellis wasn't the only one in the room. Ellis was sitting up on his bed, back leaned against the wall, legs sprawled in front of him, his crutches propped against the desk. Zoey was straddling his lap, hands gently cradling his face, and they were locked in a deep kiss. They startled at his sudden entrance, the moment broken, and Zoey's face flushed a deep red as she stared at Nick in a look of almost comical surprise, as if she'd forgotten this was his room, too. Ellis had paled, a look of horror on his face at the sight of his wasted teammate. For a second, there was silence. And then Nick started to laugh. He cradled his wounded hand to his chest, shaking with loud, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter, and offered no words; just laughed himself hoarse and breathless. Zoey's blush had darkened by this reaction, a physical representation of humiliation, and she quickly clambered from the mechanic's lap, shooting a hateful glare at the wheezing drunk.
"I'd better go," she said to Ellis before fleeing the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Nick," Ellis said hesitantly, looking at him with genuine concern as he carefully slid himself off the bed. The conman didn't answer him; still wearing nothing but his swimming trunks, he stumbled clumsily to the dresser and yanked out their provided pajamas, gasping breathless laughter, his blood smearing across the handle of the dresser and staining the shirt he pulled over his head.
"Nick," Ellis said louder, growing irritated. He was answered with the fade of Nick's laughter, replaced with mild wheezing as he calmed himself down. He watched, stunned, as Nick pulled the swimming trunks down and clambered into the boxers and pajama pants, nearly sending himself sprawling to the ground with his lack of balance. By some miracle, the very intoxicated conman managed to stay on his feet.
"It's not what ya think," the mechanic said, sounding like he was pleading the conman to listen, to believe him. Nick finally turned to Ellis, his face flushed pink from alcohol and laughter, dark eyes glassy, hair disheveled. His appearance took Ellis's breath away, made his heart skip a beat, nearly losing his life when Nick gave him an easy, sexy grin that he'd never seen before.
"Congratulations," Nick praised, his voice slurred, and he dragged the word out in a silly, exaggerated pronunciation that might've been funny if Ellis hadn't felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack.
"You finally got Zoey in bed. Sorry I ruined it. Next time put a sock on the doorknob, then I'll know to go kill time somewhere else," he drawled, stumbling terribly to their bathroom. Ellis anxiously followed him and watched as he ran the sink water over his hand.
"It's not like tha'. You don't get it, she -,"
Nick laughed over his words, cutting him off, drowning out words he didn't want to hear, even as Ellis pleaded for him to listen. He opened the medicine cabinet disguised as a mirror and 'oohed' when he successfully found a pair of tweezers. He blindly attempted to pluck the shards from his wound with a shaky hand.
"Seriously, Nick. It was nothin'. She came onta me so quick, took me by surprise. I was jus' sittin' on the bed, tryin' ta rest my leg, and she alluva sudden jus' crawled on up and grabbed my face. I tried ta tell 'er - ,"
Ellis flinched, a startled gasp tumbling from his lips as Nick suddenly turned without warning and violently threw the tweezers at the wall behind Ellis. They made harsh, loud contact and then clattered to the floor and slid behind the toilet. Nick gave him a poisonously sweet smile.
"Ellis, I really don't care what the fuck happened and I'm not sure why you're trying to explain yourself to me. You're a grown man, you can do whatever the fuck you want. I can easily give you privacy whenever you want, all you gotta do is ask. Now go lay down. I'm tired," he said, his voice laced with anger and hostility. Glancing around the room and aggravated by not knowing where anything was, Nick viciously pulled at the toilet paper and started mummifying his hand.
"I don't need privacy! It's not what ya think! She came onta me right before ya came in!" Ellis insisted desperately, holding onto the wall for support without his crutches.
"Go to bed, Ellis," Nick snarled, wrapping his wounded handed thickly with half the roll of toilet paper, tying off his terrible, clumsy, ugly bandaging. The attempt to tie it only tore the strip, and he cursed incoherently as he tucked it under another layer instead.
"No! Ya don't get it. I don't want Zoey. She's cool an' everythin', an' yeah she's real pretty, but I don't like her like tha'," Ellis said, cradling his bad arm against his chest. Nick rolled his eyes.
"Then imagine she's someone else while she's sucking your dick, what do you want me to say?" He attempted to move past Ellis to leave the small bathroom, but Ellis suddenly pushed him back with his good arm. Nick tripped backward and fell onto the toilet, coordination chased out of the picture a long time ago by the bourbon. Sitting on the lid, dazed, Nick blinked up at him in surprise, struggling to focus his vision.
"What the fuck?" he spat. Ellis ignored him and limped to stand in front of him, preventing the conman from escaping.
"I don't want none of tha'. Are ya even listenin'?" Ellis snapped. The conman glared at him.
"Alright, fine, what's the big deal, Aylus? So, she doesn't get your overalls in a twist, whatever. I'm really glad we got that covered, good luck with letting her down. I find it's best to reject a girl in public, that way she -,"
Ellis gripped Nick's hair painfully and forced his head back to meet his eyes, determined blue against confused brown.
"I don't want Zoey. I want you, Nick," he said, his voice steady and a little breathless from nerves. Nick stared at the mechanic, eyes squinting in confusion, mouth dropping open.
"I don't -,"
Nick never got to finish his sentence. Still clenching onto his hair, Ellis lowered his head and captured Nick's lips with his own. The conman's breath caught in shock and Ellis ignored it, his tongue teasing past Nick's lips to taste the bourbon he'd overindulged on. Sweet and bitter, with the smoky underlying taste of cigarettes and something uniquely Nick. He was immediately addicted to the taste, and he tilted Nick's head to a better angle, lips fitting perfectly against Nick's like a missing puzzle piece, thoroughly learning the conman's mouth, kissed those lips swollen. A throaty moan fell from Nick's lips and Ellis swallowed the delicious sound, his kisses immediately turning more ravenous and hungrier.
Suddenly, Nick froze. Before Ellis could move, Nick shoved him away, his movement strong and violent, the panic clear on his face, his chest heaving. Ellis was knocked to the ground, and he cried out in pain, clutching at his bad leg.
"What the fuck was that, Ellis?" Nick asked wildly, his eyes wide with horror, covering his mouth tightly with his uninjured hand. His breathing was fast, frantic, and Ellis looked up at him through a thick veil of tears.
"Nick, don't -," Ellis began, voice cracking.
"Stop, shut up," Nick interrupted. He rubbed at his face, speaking incoherently as he struggled to regain his bearings, desperately wishing the alcohol would just dissipate from his body, every movement feeling sluggish and numb, his brain slow to grasp what was happening. Ellis cried silent tears, pain wracking his body, breath hitching with restrained sobs, and he held his arm to his chest, his nerve endings screaming in agony. A sob escaped, clawing up his throat, and it seemed to startle Nick back into reality, the panic in his glassy, dark eyes melting into guilt.
"God, Ellis," Nick whispered, sinking to the floor to kneel over him. His hands hovered over Ellis's arm as though he wanted to help but had no idea what to do, his hands shaking badly. The young mechanic shrank away from him, tears streaming steadily down his face.
"Please don't, it hurts," Ellis begged quietly, avoiding Nick's eyes. Nick had no idea what he was begging him not to do and he was overwhelmed with the guilt of hurting him.
"I'm…I'm so sorry," Nick mumbled thickly.
"Naw, I'm sorry," Ellis replied instantly, skin heating and crawling with humiliation. He had no idea how they'd recover from this. He'd never even been with a man before, not ever. He didn't know where this came from; he just knew that Nick was everything to him, and he carried an innate need for the conman, needed him like water. The deep attraction and desire for the conman had grown over time without his awareness until it finally became so intense, he'd been forced to acknowledge and accept it. But now he wished more than anything that he would've kept those feelings to himself, locked up as his dirty little secret. Nick would never forgive him; he should've known better.
In a tense, uncomfortable silence, Nick helped Ellis to his feet, only abandoning him once the mechanic was stable. Alone, Ellis cried and gripped the wall, body shaking with silent sobs, the rejection painfully sharp. His heart broke and shattered, and in that moment, he wished he was dead. His tears fell hotly down his skin until eventually he forced his breathing to even out and he wiped his face dry. A numbness had embraced him, and he took the opportunity to slowly, painfully hobble out of the bathroom. The bedroom was dark and quiet; Nick was silent and presumably sleeping, so Ellis didn't risk waking him with the light. Instead, he carefully and slowly made his way back to his own bed and crawled beneath the blankets.
Ellis lay there in the dark, silently staring at the ceiling. He had no idea how he was going to fix this. The idea of Nick hating him was more terrifying than death itself, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. He knew that he could convince Rochelle to trade rooms; Coach wouldn't be happy, but he'd have no choice. He was sure Nick would probably make the first move to leave first thing in the morning, and the thought stabbed him. The mechanic closed his eyes tightly, imprisoning the tears that threatened to fall, and listened as Nick threw back his blankets and exited his bed. Ellis clamped his good hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, waiting for the sound of the door opening upon Nick's departure. The sound never came. A sudden weight dipped his mattress, startling him, and his hand was pulled from his mouth. Ellis's eyes flashed open, the tears escaping down his bruised cheeks, and met the heated eyes of Nick hovering over him. His lips parted in stunned silence as he stared at the conman, who only mumbled apologies and soothing noises as he adjusted into straddling the younger man, his shaking hands wiping away tears with the rambling apologies. His brain buzzed with shocked confusion, but he didn't get the chance to voice any questions; Nick was suddenly kissing him, hard and passionately, nothing like the kiss Ellis had given him. This kiss was all-consuming, desperate, starved, and begged to be understood. Ellis whimpered against the conman's mouth and Nick gingerly cradled Ellis's bruised cheeks, his thumbs stroking the skin comfortingly, and he melted into the older man's touch. Feeling Ellis relax encouraged Nick, who deepened the kiss, tasting and exploring the younger man passionately. The mechanic was left breathless and gasping when Nick moved to kiss each bruise that littered his face, making his way down to the curve of his neck. He bit at the tender flesh and sucked the pain away, tasting a path across his collarbone. Ellis writhed below him, gripping his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into his firm muscles. As Nick bruised the other side of his neck, Ellis's hands swept down his back until he found the hem of his shirt, and he tugged the fabric up until Nick reluctantly removed his mouth from Ellis's skin to pull his shirt off over his head one-handed, the other hand still cupping Ellis's cheek. At the sight of Nick's toned, sculpted torso, the mechanic groaned wantonly and slid his hands up, from his waist to his shoulders, tracing each line of muscle, every old scar. The conman gazed down at him; eyes darkened with lust.
"Nick," the younger man whispered. Nick silenced him with a kiss and trailed his tongue down the new scar that stretched from his throat to his nipple, wrangling the shirt from him. His new scars were deep and angry, an ugly reminder of his near-death experience, but Nick didn't seem put off by them; he rested his forehead against the biggest scar.
"I'm sorry, so sorry," he whispered, words still mildly slurred, breath warm against his skin. Ellis's heart ached and he wrapped his arms around the conman gently.
"There's nothin' ta be sorry 'bout. You saved my life," Ellis murmured, brushing his lips across the conman's cheek until he met his mouth.
"Never should've happened." Ellis kissed the words away with a shake of his head.
"Outta your control, ain't nothin' you coulda done," Ellis promised, nipping at his jaw. Nick didn't answer him, and Ellis sought comfort in the smoky bourbon taste of the conman's warm mouth. He could feel Nick's cock harden against his groin and it filled him with a hot rush of need that had him rutting up against that hardness, practically seeing stars at the wonderful sensation and thrilling noises it elicited from the man above him. Nick's fingers stroked through his thick waves, caressed across his forehead, over his sensitive cheeks, down his throat, to his heaving chest. He took his time exploring the younger man with his hands and mouth, desperate to taste every inch of him, and teased the sensitive skin near his waistband. Ellis whimpered impatiently, jerking his hips up, and his heart stuttered at the smug chuckle that came from Nick.
"C'mon now," Ellis urged, his fingers running through Nick's beloved hair. Dark eyes twinkled at him.
"What, Aylus? What do you want?" Nick murmured, tracing the outline of Ellis's erection with the palm of his hand.
"You know wha'," the mechanic growled, pulling his pants down, but not off; it was too much work getting his cast in and out of pants.
"I wanna hear you say it. Beg for it." Nick's words ghosted over Ellis's freed erection, pulling a moan from the younger man. He slowly dragged his lips along his length and Ellis gripped his hair, forcing his head down.
"I want you ta suck my cock, right now. I want you ta make me feel real good, an' don't stop 'til I come. Please, Nick; make me feel good, I…I need you," Ellis begged in the darkness, back arching from the mattress.
"Anything for you, Overalls," Nick teased with a lick to the head of his cock. And then he did. He made Ellis feel real good. His sinful mouth took him in, all of him, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked earnestly, head dipping up and down to match Ellis's pleading pace, the mechanic's fingers wrapped painfully tight in Nick's hair, gasping and moaning Nick's name along with unintelligible prayers and curses. Ellis had never felt so good, every nerve ending on fire, his soul aching as his cock wept and throbbed in the warm, wet confines of Nick's mouth, balls begging for release. He would've been embarrassed by his ragged panting and needy whines and moans, but his mind was completely scrambled to mush as Nick unabashedly pleasured him. As he started nearing the peak, Ellis trembled all over, hips thrusting, and he pressed his hands tightly to his mouth. Nick suddenly stopped and shook his head at the mechanic, one hand cupping Ellis's painfully tight balls.
"Don't you dare cover your mouth. I wanna hear my name when you come," Nick ordered roughly, his voice husky from the diligent use of his throat and mouth. The sound alone made Ellis whimper, and he immediately nodded in understanding, guiding the conman's head back down, panting in anticipation. Nick obliged with a warm chuckle that vibrated against his cock, making him whine.
"Nick, I…I'm gonna," Ellis groaned, thrusting into his mouth greedily, fingers threading through his soft hair. He looked down to watch the conman suck his cock and found that he was looking back up at him from beneath lowered lashes. Meeting his gaze sent a hot bolt of lightning down his spine and he cried out shakily, toeing the edge of orgasm, gasping for air as heat spread throughout his body, flushing his scarred chest and neck. Nick never broke eye contact, watching headily as the redneck cursed and begged above him.
"Ah, fuck, Nick…feels so good. You're so perfect, gonna make me come so hard, God, I'm righ' there, please, God, please…Nick, I've got ta, gotta…ah! I'm gonna come, I'm gonna -," Ellis's senseless ramblings tumbled from his lips in short, breathy pants, his body suddenly arching and becoming rigid.
"Fuck, I'm coming," Ellis wailed, crying out as he reached orgasm, pulling his hair so painfully Nick squeezed his eyes shut. Hot spurts of cum squirted in the back of his throat over and over as Ellis practically sobbed from the intensity of his orgasm, and Nick dutifully swallowed every last drop until the younger man melted into the mattress with a low moan of release. He shuddered as he fought to regain control over his breathing, raising his hips as Nick tugged his pants back up, and murmured a praise of gratitude as the conman moved to lay beside him. The younger man quickly sat up to return the favor, but Nick gently pulled him back down, wrapping him into his arms and pulled him flush against his bare chest.
"Just lay with me. That's all I want," Nick said, voice low and warm. Ellis's heart ached at the words, and he simply nodded, burying himself into the cozy, intimate embrace. It was completely perfect in every way, and the younger man felt he could die happy in this moment; he had everything he wanted right here.
"Nick," Ellis said softly, tentative in the quiet darkness. The inebriated conman hummed a rumble of acknowledgement, barely awake.
"Are you gonna regret this when you wake up sober?" he asked timidly. Nick's arms tightened around him.
"Never. Wanted it for too long," Nick mumbled sleepily. The younger man yawned.
"You promise?"
"Sleep, Ellis."
A/N: Thanks for reading! I'd love a review, drop one if ya'd like! Next chapter coming soon ~