riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-11-21 12:57 am
riptide_asylum) wrote2009-11-21 12:57 am
Entry tags:
"Anyone But You" (Out of the Dark, 1984)
Title: Anyone But You
Rating: R
Summary: Nick tries to come to terms with letting Sheila slip past his defenses.
In the beginning, Nick kept track.
First there was DeeDee. To this day, they both flinched every time "Cat Scratch Fever" came on the radio.
After her, there was Sharon, who chainsmoked and wore Strawberry Drama lipstick, the shade she used to write her farewell note on the bathroom mirror. She'd left the smoking gun behind and for a couple days, Nick had gotten a kick out of writing the grocery list with it. One day he watched Cody's face as he read the mirror and the Drama was out next trash day.
Next came Sheena. The less said about her, the better.
After Sheena was Caroline, newly divorced and fragile, she made Nick think of a bird just before it hit the windshield of a heavy Chinook, in that moment they knew they were gonna meet that big nest in the sky? This chick shuffled from the bedroom to the bathroom and back with that exact same attitude, while Nick lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and biting his tongue.
That was a long damn three weeks.
After Caroline, Laura, who really didn't deserve what she got. But at least she had her cats to keep her company.
After Laura...Nick frowned, concentrating. Darla? Anna? Kim with the creepy space between her teeth? They all ran together for awhile, right up until the night Nick had finally told Cody the truth. At that point--at least for awhile, girls became a moot point. Nick remembered every night the two of them had spent fucking hard and rough, then slow and careful, trying to figure out how their bodies fit together, this new and forbidden thing they'd unleashed. Both of them too terrified to put a name to what they'd found, what they both wanted.
Jesus. That period of their lives was one of the scariest and most exhilarating Nick could name. It ranked right up there with learning to fly, lying next to Cody, running his hands over that golden skin, a body so much harder than all the ones he'd lain against before. That first moment he'd taken Cody in his hand, felt Cody beat in his palm, his heart in Nick's hand, eyes wide and scared and wanting, breath coming short hard rasps, fists gripping the sheet for dear life. Hell, it beat any helicopter you could name.
But now this. Sheila. This thing that had come between them.
"Nick." Cody emerged from the hatch and crawled onto the back deck like some strange insect, long legs in short shorts and a sweater Nick supposed might be fashionable. "Been looking all over for you, buddy. How long you been up here?"
Nick shrugged and took another sip of his beer. "Dunno. Just wanted to think, you know. Look up at the sky?"
Nodding, Cody dropped onto the bench seat beside him. "I hear ya, Nick. I hear ya." Cody's gaze dropped to the water, sky forgotten, and his stasis lasted exactly twelve seconds. Nick counted.
Cody recrossed his impossible legs and turned and squinted at Nick, into the dying sun. "What's on your mind?"
The parade of girls flashed through Nick's eyes so fast they blurred, assuming one identity, all eyeliner and lipstick and need. Nick shrugged again and started peeling the label from the bottle.
Cody bumped his shoulder, laughing. "Nick, you sly old dog. Who is she?"
That time, Nick couldn't even fake a grin. "Anyone. But..."
Cody nudged him again, expression turning serious.
Nick screwed his courage to the sticking point and finished his beer. "You. Cody..."
"Aw no, Nick. Not this again. Look, Nick, I thought we went over this?"
The knife Cody lodged in Nick's chest the first time they met, twisted, just a little. Nick's eyes were drawn to a Sunfish sailing gently by, a girl in a lavender bikini sprawled in the tiny cockpit. He watched as she tossed highlighted curls over her tan shoulders, making a beeline for the space between the breakwater and the marina's edge. If only he could get Cody to plot a similar course.
Cody slid an arm around him and Nick froze, searching for answers in his best friend's eyes. Touch was nothing new, but this? This was foreign ground. At least for Nick. He flashed back to Sharon's manifesto: "Cody, you're too fucked up to ever be truly happy. I wish you and Nick the best of luck. And crabs. Sharon."
Nick looked in Cody's worried blue eyes, and tried to think of a lie that'd make the guy happy. The way Cody looked at Sheila, the scared, hopeful light in those eyes...as much as it hurt, Nick wanted what Cody wanted. If he wanted Sheila, Nick wanted that for him too. No matter what the cost. This last attempt of Cody's at the picket fence, the nine-to-five life was different than the others. Sheena was easy compared to this. Those thoughts ran through Nick's mind as shreds of label fell from his hands, rolling over the lacquered wood deck to hide in the seam between floor and wall.
"Nick?"
He looked up just as a stiff breeze whipped across the harbor, snapping pennants somewhere on land close by, setting ropes against masts with discordant, sibilant thumps. A wind Nick wouldn't want to fly into, that's for sure.
"Nick? C'mon buddy, talk to me." Cody leaned closer, and Nick sat torn between the urge to flee and the other; the one that always wanted to tackle Cody, pin him to the deck and fuck him just as hard as the first time. Just as raw, just as needing. Look at me, he'd say, buried deep in his best friend. This is right. You know this. You and me. That's it.
Taking a deep breath, Nick summoned his courage and tried to find his place.
Rating: R
Summary: Nick tries to come to terms with letting Sheila slip past his defenses.
In the beginning, Nick kept track.
First there was DeeDee. To this day, they both flinched every time "Cat Scratch Fever" came on the radio.
After her, there was Sharon, who chainsmoked and wore Strawberry Drama lipstick, the shade she used to write her farewell note on the bathroom mirror. She'd left the smoking gun behind and for a couple days, Nick had gotten a kick out of writing the grocery list with it. One day he watched Cody's face as he read the mirror and the Drama was out next trash day.
Next came Sheena. The less said about her, the better.
After Sheena was Caroline, newly divorced and fragile, she made Nick think of a bird just before it hit the windshield of a heavy Chinook, in that moment they knew they were gonna meet that big nest in the sky? This chick shuffled from the bedroom to the bathroom and back with that exact same attitude, while Nick lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and biting his tongue.
That was a long damn three weeks.
After Caroline, Laura, who really didn't deserve what she got. But at least she had her cats to keep her company.
After Laura...Nick frowned, concentrating. Darla? Anna? Kim with the creepy space between her teeth? They all ran together for awhile, right up until the night Nick had finally told Cody the truth. At that point--at least for awhile, girls became a moot point. Nick remembered every night the two of them had spent fucking hard and rough, then slow and careful, trying to figure out how their bodies fit together, this new and forbidden thing they'd unleashed. Both of them too terrified to put a name to what they'd found, what they both wanted.
Jesus. That period of their lives was one of the scariest and most exhilarating Nick could name. It ranked right up there with learning to fly, lying next to Cody, running his hands over that golden skin, a body so much harder than all the ones he'd lain against before. That first moment he'd taken Cody in his hand, felt Cody beat in his palm, his heart in Nick's hand, eyes wide and scared and wanting, breath coming short hard rasps, fists gripping the sheet for dear life. Hell, it beat any helicopter you could name.
But now this. Sheila. This thing that had come between them.
"Nick." Cody emerged from the hatch and crawled onto the back deck like some strange insect, long legs in short shorts and a sweater Nick supposed might be fashionable. "Been looking all over for you, buddy. How long you been up here?"
Nick shrugged and took another sip of his beer. "Dunno. Just wanted to think, you know. Look up at the sky?"
Nodding, Cody dropped onto the bench seat beside him. "I hear ya, Nick. I hear ya." Cody's gaze dropped to the water, sky forgotten, and his stasis lasted exactly twelve seconds. Nick counted.
Cody recrossed his impossible legs and turned and squinted at Nick, into the dying sun. "What's on your mind?"
The parade of girls flashed through Nick's eyes so fast they blurred, assuming one identity, all eyeliner and lipstick and need. Nick shrugged again and started peeling the label from the bottle.
Cody bumped his shoulder, laughing. "Nick, you sly old dog. Who is she?"
That time, Nick couldn't even fake a grin. "Anyone. But..."
Cody nudged him again, expression turning serious.
Nick screwed his courage to the sticking point and finished his beer. "You. Cody..."
"Aw no, Nick. Not this again. Look, Nick, I thought we went over this?"
The knife Cody lodged in Nick's chest the first time they met, twisted, just a little. Nick's eyes were drawn to a Sunfish sailing gently by, a girl in a lavender bikini sprawled in the tiny cockpit. He watched as she tossed highlighted curls over her tan shoulders, making a beeline for the space between the breakwater and the marina's edge. If only he could get Cody to plot a similar course.
Cody slid an arm around him and Nick froze, searching for answers in his best friend's eyes. Touch was nothing new, but this? This was foreign ground. At least for Nick. He flashed back to Sharon's manifesto: "Cody, you're too fucked up to ever be truly happy. I wish you and Nick the best of luck. And crabs. Sharon."
Nick looked in Cody's worried blue eyes, and tried to think of a lie that'd make the guy happy. The way Cody looked at Sheila, the scared, hopeful light in those eyes...as much as it hurt, Nick wanted what Cody wanted. If he wanted Sheila, Nick wanted that for him too. No matter what the cost. This last attempt of Cody's at the picket fence, the nine-to-five life was different than the others. Sheena was easy compared to this. Those thoughts ran through Nick's mind as shreds of label fell from his hands, rolling over the lacquered wood deck to hide in the seam between floor and wall.
"Nick?"
He looked up just as a stiff breeze whipped across the harbor, snapping pennants somewhere on land close by, setting ropes against masts with discordant, sibilant thumps. A wind Nick wouldn't want to fly into, that's for sure.
"Nick? C'mon buddy, talk to me." Cody leaned closer, and Nick sat torn between the urge to flee and the other; the one that always wanted to tackle Cody, pin him to the deck and fuck him just as hard as the first time. Just as raw, just as needing. Look at me, he'd say, buried deep in his best friend. This is right. You know this. You and me. That's it.
Taking a deep breath, Nick summoned his courage and tried to find his place.