![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
riptide_asylumTitle: Keeping Watch/Keep Watching
Rating: PG
Summary: Cody likes watching Nick. Always has.
Cody likes watching Nick. Always has.
He can call to mind all the times Nick laid out on the deck of the Riptide, brown skin baking in the sun; the way he lay there, nonchalant and tan and perfect made Cody want to dive on him and scream and jump overboard all at once. Still does sometimes.
He can tell Nick's worried lately about getting older. About his hairline and the lines round his mouth and the softness of his gut, all things Cody loves. Nick'll never admit it, either, preferring to redirect the conversation to Cody or let the smoldering in his eyes say everything still, until they both wind up in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and blankets.
Just like old times.
The thing is, Cody loves not having to worry so much about his own gut, instead letting it sag against Nick's, the familiar magic of skin on skin sending shivers down his spine. He loves seeing the evidence of Nick's smile written on his face. This gruff and decorated military hardass who cries at old movies and grins at Cody in the darkness, last thing at night. Other people should know this about Nick, just by looking at him.
They shouldn't just see the paranoid scowl and suspicious eyes, the strong arms folded across a barrel chest. They should see what Cody sees, even now: the same cocky, blue-eyed boy who saved Cody's life just by smiling at him in the middle of the jungle.
Murmuring, Nick frowns in his sleep, book fallen from his hands, beer sitting untouched on the nightstand. Cody retrieves the book and steals a sip of beer, and then another. He slides under the blankets and watches Nick reach for him, hands groping blindly.
He places a kiss high in the middle of Nick's forehead, up near his hairline. Then with a swift, practiced movement, Cody leans over and turns off the light, flooding their cabin with darkness.
Rating: PG
Summary: Cody likes watching Nick. Always has.
Cody likes watching Nick. Always has.
He can call to mind all the times Nick laid out on the deck of the Riptide, brown skin baking in the sun; the way he lay there, nonchalant and tan and perfect made Cody want to dive on him and scream and jump overboard all at once. Still does sometimes.
He can tell Nick's worried lately about getting older. About his hairline and the lines round his mouth and the softness of his gut, all things Cody loves. Nick'll never admit it, either, preferring to redirect the conversation to Cody or let the smoldering in his eyes say everything still, until they both wind up in a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and blankets.
Just like old times.
The thing is, Cody loves not having to worry so much about his own gut, instead letting it sag against Nick's, the familiar magic of skin on skin sending shivers down his spine. He loves seeing the evidence of Nick's smile written on his face. This gruff and decorated military hardass who cries at old movies and grins at Cody in the darkness, last thing at night. Other people should know this about Nick, just by looking at him.
They shouldn't just see the paranoid scowl and suspicious eyes, the strong arms folded across a barrel chest. They should see what Cody sees, even now: the same cocky, blue-eyed boy who saved Cody's life just by smiling at him in the middle of the jungle.
Murmuring, Nick frowns in his sleep, book fallen from his hands, beer sitting untouched on the nightstand. Cody retrieves the book and steals a sip of beer, and then another. He slides under the blankets and watches Nick reach for him, hands groping blindly.
He places a kiss high in the middle of Nick's forehead, up near his hairline. Then with a swift, practiced movement, Cody leans over and turns off the light, flooding their cabin with darkness.
