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riptide_asylumTitle: Straight on 'til Morning
Rating: NC 17
Summary: Cutscene/coda to Peter Pan is Alive and Well
It took Nick less than ten seconds to size up Byron Monk, and a further ten to be sure: there was nothing about the guy he liked.
Nothing.
What he particularly didn't like was the shadow in Cody's eyes and his overloud laughter. The guy he seemed to think he had to be when Byron was around.
Nick had spent a lot of years teaching Cody he didn't have to be anyone. During the war was one thing - they'd all done a lot of posturing then. But that was different: over there, you did whatever you had to do to get past the fear. They all did it, and they all saw it in each other and knew it for what it was.
But since they'd got home, it was different. Nick had promised himself a long time ago he'd never apologize for who he was, but it was a lesson that came harder to Cody.
College guys, pretty girls, brass - Cody had a face for all of 'em, and it was rarely his own. It was like he didn't think who he was was good enough, and that pierced Nick to his core.
But with Byron, it was something worse.
Nick smiled through it all, through the cracks about the twins and the good times. Nick was still a little angry with himself for not decking Byron when he'd made that quip about fingermarks on the furniture, but then, it wouldn't have done to start a brawl. In fact, much as Nick wanted to kill the guy, he went easy on him on purpose.
Because having Byron around was tearing Cody apart. On the one hand was the guy he was trying to be for Byron, into fast ladies, hot times and God only knew what else. Things that made Nick angry just thinking about them, and sent him out for a ten-mile run when sunrise was just a blush of pink on the horizon. Things that made it hard for him to meet his partner's eyes.
And on the other hand, there was Nick's Cody. The sweet gentle guy who hated fast women. Whose idea of a hot time was a day on a lonely beach, the fewer people the better, with a surfboard, some beers and Nick. With Byron around, Cody was trying to be two people at once, and it broke Nick's heart to see it.
So Nick stepped back as far as his heart would let him. Took the pressure off and let Cody do what he needed to do. And every time Cody looked at him with his haunted, frightened eyes - terrified that Nick was judging him for something more than a decade old - it made Nick so angry he wanted to shoot Byron right then and there.
When Byron was killed, Nick's only regret was that he hadn't gotten to punch the guy first.
---
Cody went out alone. Despite Nick's words, he was still upset - Nick could see it in every line of his body - and it nearly broke Nick to let him go alone. But he'd said all he could say, and the rest was up to Cody.
He drained half a beer at a go, then went out himself. It was too late to run, really, dusk falling and the chill breeze raising goose pimples on his legs. The beer sloshed uncomfortably in his belly but he pressed on regardless, ignoring the incipient stitch. There were days he'd marched on a hell of a lot worse.
He stayed off the beach - in the dark, running on the uneven sand was asking for a turned ankle or worse, a burst calf muscle. Nick had chased enough crooks over enough terrain to know that. Instead he headed up the hill, away from the harbor, and didn't stop until he came to the lookout at the top.
He stood for a long time, watching the moon rise above the mountains. Below in the harbor, the lights winked on as the summer evening gave way to night, and Nick could see figures on the pier like so many black ants.
Cody could be anywhere in this night. Walking on the beach, driving the Pacific Coast Highway, drowning his sorrows at Straightaway's. Catching up with some old flame to remind himself of the man Byron had thought him. Nick's stomach clenched at the thought and he turned from the view, heading back down the hill. Walking now, staying well to the side, out of the way of the drunks and speedsters using the lookout road to avoid the cops in town.
Three cars passed him, all speeding, before he made it back to town and fell into his rhythm again, jogging slow down the main street. There were lights at police headquarters and at the bank, but the rest of the buildings were dark and silent. All those doctors and lawyers and stockbrokers, all leading the lives that Cody had been born to.
Nick came to the crossroads and stopped again, leaning his hands on his knees. That was the sticking point, right there. Nick knew, better than anyone, that Cody couldn't live that kind of life. Blame it on Vietnam if you wanted, but Nick had a suspicion it went deeper than that. That it was the reason Cody had run away to war to begin with.
Straightening up, Nick started to run again, faster this time as he crossed the road, heading for the pier. Cody was only happy when he was his own master. He needed the boat, needed the ocean, needed the carefree life they led.
Nick thought of Cody in the MPs, always looking over his shoulder. Cody working in the surf-shop when they'd first come to the coast, drinking too much, partying too hard.
Cody in a stupid apartment with Byron, trapped into Byron's poisoned idea of fun.
Nick started to sprint.
The Jimmy was in its place and Nick leaped aboard the Riptide almost without breaking stride. The salon was dark and Nick took the stairs at a bound. But their cabin was empty too, just as Nick had left it, his jeans and shirt draped over his bed. He turned, dispirited, wondering if he should go and look for Cody on the beach.
He got as far as the steps to the wheelhouse.
"Nick?" It wasn't much more than a whisper, but it stopped him in his tracks. He spun around and for the first time saw the dark figure slumped in the corner of the booth.
"Cody!" Nick was beside him in an instant, sliding in next to him. "You're back!"
"When I got home and you weren't here..." Cody's voice shook a little. "You'd got changed. I didn't know what to think."
"I went for a run." Nick eased an arm around his partner. Cody was tense, not relaxing into Nick the way he usually did. "Hey, big guy, come on. What did you think, huh?"
"I don't know." Cody's voice cracked. "I just... I thought you'd be here, and you weren't, and - " He stopped.
Nick pulled him close, ignoring the resistance. He slid his other hand behind his partner's neck, gently lacing his fingers through the soft blond hair. "I was worried about you. I couldn't just sit around. You know?"
Cody nodded, relaxing a little. Nick kept stroking his neck, soft and gentle. This was the most upset Cody had been in the months they'd been together, but they'd been through many rougher patches as friends, if not as lovers. And if there was one thing Nick knew, it was Cody Allen.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly, bringing his thumb forward to lift Cody's chin. "About Byron and stuff, I mean?"
Cody shrugged but raised his head, relaxing against Nick's shoulder as he did so. "Even if he was a lawyer, he'd still have been an asshole, right?"
Nick chuckled with relief and affection. "You're right there," he said, and kissed Cody's forehead softly. "An' if you were a lawyer, no telling but you might've been an asshole too."
Cody's head came up. "I would not!"
Nick angled his head, pulling Cody closer in and their lips met, warm and sweet. Cody raised a hand to Nick's collarbone, stroking softly. Nick claimed another kiss. "I love you," he said quietly. "Cody Allen. Not could've-been-a-lawyer Cody, not MP Cody, not private detective Cody. Whatever you are, you big jerk, I'm gonna be right behind you. You got that?"
Cody leaned back, smiling. There was a glint in his eye that made Nick's heart lift. "Who're you calling a jerk?" he said huskily.
Nick took the stairs at a bound for the second time that evening, but this time Cody was hard on his heels. They latched the door, both fumbling with it at the same time, then fell onto Cody's bunk in a tangle of arms and legs.
Nick found he was more tired from his run than he'd thought and Cody pinned him with relative ease, both of them giggling softly. The half-necking, half-wrestling match to determine who was on top was at least half the fun, especially on the days at least one of them was playing to lose.
Nick surrendered willingly as Cody yanked his shorts down, struggling out of his own shirt then watching appreciatively as Cody stripped himself. Some nights he'd have made a late comeback, pouncing on his partner as he regained the bed, but tonight that wasn't what either of them wanted.
Cody climbed between his legs and Nick pulled him close, savoring the heat of Cody's skin on his. Cody moved against him long and slow, thrusting gently, and Nick drew up his knees, wrapping his legs around his lover and bucking underneath him.
Cody kissed him deep and slow, and Nick raised his hands to cradle Cody's head, pulling him into an even deeper, longer connection. At last Cody broke free, raising up and sliding his hand between their bodies.
Nick watched him through lowered lashes. His cock throbbed and he wanted Cody - deep inside him, taking him the way only Cody could - but he was almost sorry at the space between them. Then Cody's fingers, slick and cool, were delving into his cleft and Nick forgot everything else.
Eyes closing, he spread his knees wider, rolling his hips to draw Cody further in. But Cody wouldn't be hurried, taking his time, teasing Nick's pucker until Nick was whimpering with want.
At last, the teasing finger slid in deeper, caressing his passage. Nick grabbed Cody's shoulders, begging, stumbling over his words, and Cody gave a breathless chuckle. Harder and deeper, two fingers now, Nick quivering beneath him, and then at last Nick was empty, open, waiting.
He lay still, quivering with his need, watching as Cody slicked his fat cock. Nick licked his lips. "Hurry," he muttered, hand straying to his own member.
Cody leaned forward over him and kissed him, tongue delving deep into Nick's mouth even as his cock breached Nick's entrance. Nick writhed beneath him, the ecstasy almost unbearable, and then Cody was stroking in a rhythm, his own breath coming fast.
Nick matched him thrust for thrust, grabbing onto Cody's ass as every stroke hit his pleasure center, sending sparks flying up his spine.
He felt Cody swelling inside him, felt his rhythm start to falter and as Cody kissed him, Nick grabbed his own cock and pumped it hard.
He flew over the edge, arching against Cody, feeling the moment Cody stiffened in his arms then dropped, heavy and spent, on his chest.
They lay together for a long time, then finally Cody moved, sliding free of Nick's body and rolling on his side. Nick followed, sliding a leg over Cody's hip, and Cody grinned then claimed a kiss.
"I love you too, Nick," he whispered. "Even if you do think I'm a big jerk."
Nick chuckled softly. "Not just any big jerk, Cody. You're my big jerk."
Cody slid his hands down to Nick's ass. "I'm too tired right now, but you're gonna pay for that in the morning."
Nick kissed him lightly. "Believe me," he murmured, "I know."
Rating: NC 17
Summary: Cutscene/coda to Peter Pan is Alive and Well
It took Nick less than ten seconds to size up Byron Monk, and a further ten to be sure: there was nothing about the guy he liked.
Nothing.
What he particularly didn't like was the shadow in Cody's eyes and his overloud laughter. The guy he seemed to think he had to be when Byron was around.
Nick had spent a lot of years teaching Cody he didn't have to be anyone. During the war was one thing - they'd all done a lot of posturing then. But that was different: over there, you did whatever you had to do to get past the fear. They all did it, and they all saw it in each other and knew it for what it was.
But since they'd got home, it was different. Nick had promised himself a long time ago he'd never apologize for who he was, but it was a lesson that came harder to Cody.
College guys, pretty girls, brass - Cody had a face for all of 'em, and it was rarely his own. It was like he didn't think who he was was good enough, and that pierced Nick to his core.
But with Byron, it was something worse.
Nick smiled through it all, through the cracks about the twins and the good times. Nick was still a little angry with himself for not decking Byron when he'd made that quip about fingermarks on the furniture, but then, it wouldn't have done to start a brawl. In fact, much as Nick wanted to kill the guy, he went easy on him on purpose.
Because having Byron around was tearing Cody apart. On the one hand was the guy he was trying to be for Byron, into fast ladies, hot times and God only knew what else. Things that made Nick angry just thinking about them, and sent him out for a ten-mile run when sunrise was just a blush of pink on the horizon. Things that made it hard for him to meet his partner's eyes.
And on the other hand, there was Nick's Cody. The sweet gentle guy who hated fast women. Whose idea of a hot time was a day on a lonely beach, the fewer people the better, with a surfboard, some beers and Nick. With Byron around, Cody was trying to be two people at once, and it broke Nick's heart to see it.
So Nick stepped back as far as his heart would let him. Took the pressure off and let Cody do what he needed to do. And every time Cody looked at him with his haunted, frightened eyes - terrified that Nick was judging him for something more than a decade old - it made Nick so angry he wanted to shoot Byron right then and there.
When Byron was killed, Nick's only regret was that he hadn't gotten to punch the guy first.
---
Cody went out alone. Despite Nick's words, he was still upset - Nick could see it in every line of his body - and it nearly broke Nick to let him go alone. But he'd said all he could say, and the rest was up to Cody.
He drained half a beer at a go, then went out himself. It was too late to run, really, dusk falling and the chill breeze raising goose pimples on his legs. The beer sloshed uncomfortably in his belly but he pressed on regardless, ignoring the incipient stitch. There were days he'd marched on a hell of a lot worse.
He stayed off the beach - in the dark, running on the uneven sand was asking for a turned ankle or worse, a burst calf muscle. Nick had chased enough crooks over enough terrain to know that. Instead he headed up the hill, away from the harbor, and didn't stop until he came to the lookout at the top.
He stood for a long time, watching the moon rise above the mountains. Below in the harbor, the lights winked on as the summer evening gave way to night, and Nick could see figures on the pier like so many black ants.
Cody could be anywhere in this night. Walking on the beach, driving the Pacific Coast Highway, drowning his sorrows at Straightaway's. Catching up with some old flame to remind himself of the man Byron had thought him. Nick's stomach clenched at the thought and he turned from the view, heading back down the hill. Walking now, staying well to the side, out of the way of the drunks and speedsters using the lookout road to avoid the cops in town.
Three cars passed him, all speeding, before he made it back to town and fell into his rhythm again, jogging slow down the main street. There were lights at police headquarters and at the bank, but the rest of the buildings were dark and silent. All those doctors and lawyers and stockbrokers, all leading the lives that Cody had been born to.
Nick came to the crossroads and stopped again, leaning his hands on his knees. That was the sticking point, right there. Nick knew, better than anyone, that Cody couldn't live that kind of life. Blame it on Vietnam if you wanted, but Nick had a suspicion it went deeper than that. That it was the reason Cody had run away to war to begin with.
Straightening up, Nick started to run again, faster this time as he crossed the road, heading for the pier. Cody was only happy when he was his own master. He needed the boat, needed the ocean, needed the carefree life they led.
Nick thought of Cody in the MPs, always looking over his shoulder. Cody working in the surf-shop when they'd first come to the coast, drinking too much, partying too hard.
Cody in a stupid apartment with Byron, trapped into Byron's poisoned idea of fun.
Nick started to sprint.
The Jimmy was in its place and Nick leaped aboard the Riptide almost without breaking stride. The salon was dark and Nick took the stairs at a bound. But their cabin was empty too, just as Nick had left it, his jeans and shirt draped over his bed. He turned, dispirited, wondering if he should go and look for Cody on the beach.
He got as far as the steps to the wheelhouse.
"Nick?" It wasn't much more than a whisper, but it stopped him in his tracks. He spun around and for the first time saw the dark figure slumped in the corner of the booth.
"Cody!" Nick was beside him in an instant, sliding in next to him. "You're back!"
"When I got home and you weren't here..." Cody's voice shook a little. "You'd got changed. I didn't know what to think."
"I went for a run." Nick eased an arm around his partner. Cody was tense, not relaxing into Nick the way he usually did. "Hey, big guy, come on. What did you think, huh?"
"I don't know." Cody's voice cracked. "I just... I thought you'd be here, and you weren't, and - " He stopped.
Nick pulled him close, ignoring the resistance. He slid his other hand behind his partner's neck, gently lacing his fingers through the soft blond hair. "I was worried about you. I couldn't just sit around. You know?"
Cody nodded, relaxing a little. Nick kept stroking his neck, soft and gentle. This was the most upset Cody had been in the months they'd been together, but they'd been through many rougher patches as friends, if not as lovers. And if there was one thing Nick knew, it was Cody Allen.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly, bringing his thumb forward to lift Cody's chin. "About Byron and stuff, I mean?"
Cody shrugged but raised his head, relaxing against Nick's shoulder as he did so. "Even if he was a lawyer, he'd still have been an asshole, right?"
Nick chuckled with relief and affection. "You're right there," he said, and kissed Cody's forehead softly. "An' if you were a lawyer, no telling but you might've been an asshole too."
Cody's head came up. "I would not!"
Nick angled his head, pulling Cody closer in and their lips met, warm and sweet. Cody raised a hand to Nick's collarbone, stroking softly. Nick claimed another kiss. "I love you," he said quietly. "Cody Allen. Not could've-been-a-lawyer Cody, not MP Cody, not private detective Cody. Whatever you are, you big jerk, I'm gonna be right behind you. You got that?"
Cody leaned back, smiling. There was a glint in his eye that made Nick's heart lift. "Who're you calling a jerk?" he said huskily.
Nick took the stairs at a bound for the second time that evening, but this time Cody was hard on his heels. They latched the door, both fumbling with it at the same time, then fell onto Cody's bunk in a tangle of arms and legs.
Nick found he was more tired from his run than he'd thought and Cody pinned him with relative ease, both of them giggling softly. The half-necking, half-wrestling match to determine who was on top was at least half the fun, especially on the days at least one of them was playing to lose.
Nick surrendered willingly as Cody yanked his shorts down, struggling out of his own shirt then watching appreciatively as Cody stripped himself. Some nights he'd have made a late comeback, pouncing on his partner as he regained the bed, but tonight that wasn't what either of them wanted.
Cody climbed between his legs and Nick pulled him close, savoring the heat of Cody's skin on his. Cody moved against him long and slow, thrusting gently, and Nick drew up his knees, wrapping his legs around his lover and bucking underneath him.
Cody kissed him deep and slow, and Nick raised his hands to cradle Cody's head, pulling him into an even deeper, longer connection. At last Cody broke free, raising up and sliding his hand between their bodies.
Nick watched him through lowered lashes. His cock throbbed and he wanted Cody - deep inside him, taking him the way only Cody could - but he was almost sorry at the space between them. Then Cody's fingers, slick and cool, were delving into his cleft and Nick forgot everything else.
Eyes closing, he spread his knees wider, rolling his hips to draw Cody further in. But Cody wouldn't be hurried, taking his time, teasing Nick's pucker until Nick was whimpering with want.
At last, the teasing finger slid in deeper, caressing his passage. Nick grabbed Cody's shoulders, begging, stumbling over his words, and Cody gave a breathless chuckle. Harder and deeper, two fingers now, Nick quivering beneath him, and then at last Nick was empty, open, waiting.
He lay still, quivering with his need, watching as Cody slicked his fat cock. Nick licked his lips. "Hurry," he muttered, hand straying to his own member.
Cody leaned forward over him and kissed him, tongue delving deep into Nick's mouth even as his cock breached Nick's entrance. Nick writhed beneath him, the ecstasy almost unbearable, and then Cody was stroking in a rhythm, his own breath coming fast.
Nick matched him thrust for thrust, grabbing onto Cody's ass as every stroke hit his pleasure center, sending sparks flying up his spine.
He felt Cody swelling inside him, felt his rhythm start to falter and as Cody kissed him, Nick grabbed his own cock and pumped it hard.
He flew over the edge, arching against Cody, feeling the moment Cody stiffened in his arms then dropped, heavy and spent, on his chest.
They lay together for a long time, then finally Cody moved, sliding free of Nick's body and rolling on his side. Nick followed, sliding a leg over Cody's hip, and Cody grinned then claimed a kiss.
"I love you too, Nick," he whispered. "Even if you do think I'm a big jerk."
Nick chuckled softly. "Not just any big jerk, Cody. You're my big jerk."
Cody slid his hands down to Nick's ass. "I'm too tired right now, but you're gonna pay for that in the morning."
Nick kissed him lightly. "Believe me," he murmured, "I know."
