Under the Bridge

by Cooper, R.

  Nick froze, barely breathing for several seconds until the air rushed out of him. Without pulling away he lifted one hand and very carefully touched the puffy skin around Chris’s eye. “I don’t like all of it.” His hand became a fist and he yanked himself back and hunched his shoulders. “Look at yourself, Chris. What they did to you. What I did….” He glanced over.

  Chris knew about his face but he looked down at his messed up, come-stained shirt and noticed that he had goosebumps on his arms. He hadn’t even felt them. Nick must have seen them though, because he looked away and stared out past the wall.

  “Here,” he said suddenly, and shrugged out of the jacket. He shoved it over at Chris without turning. “Put it on. I can get it back later.”

  “I don’t think I can pull off this look.” Chris stared at the jacket as he took it. It was warm and soft and smelled amazing. Nick was only slightly smaller without it. Chris wanted to straighten his rumpled shirt, but Nick didn’t turn back around until Chris sat up and slipped the jacket on.

  The fur was matted and feathery against his neck. The sleeves were a little long. If Chris had had that last growth spurt his mom kept saying he would have right at that moment, the sleeves would still have been a bit too long. The only part of it that fit was the shoulders. If anyone else had seen him in it, they’d probably laugh.

  “I’m not really this badass,” he mumbled once it was on and Nick snorted.

  “Yeah right. You take all those beatings and come back for more and you aren’t a badass. Do you know the real reason I never talked to you?” He reached over, but just to pull his cigarettes and his lighter from the jacket’s front pocket. He held them both in his lap and flipped the lighter around. Chris remembered that lighter as having definitely belonged to Nick’s dad. It made him run a hand down the worn leather he was now wearing, that he shouldn’t be wearing if it meant so much to Nick. But he couldn’t ask and when he didn’t say anything, Nick turned to him. “I couldn’t think of what to say to you.”

  “Anything.” Chris didn’t have to think about it. He wrapped his arms around himself and Nick’s leather jacket. “You could have said… you could say… anything. You still can, you know.”

  “Okay.” Nick flipped the lighter again then shoved it in his pants pocket before unexpectedly raising his head. He relaxed his hands so they weren’t fists anymore. “Don’t take on everything all the time. Pick your fights better. Fight for shit that really matters.”

  “Serious?” Chris blurted out and then scowled because Nick hadn’t had looked beat up all the time and he didn’t know what would have inspired him to fight back. “But….” He trailed off and lowered his chin until he had fur almost in his mouth.

  “You shouldn’t get hurt for nothing.” Nick sighed then straightened up. “Fuck. What are you even doing here with me? This isn’t a sleepover in your clubhouse.”

  Chris had had a lot of whiskey, but so had Nick and he didn’t think Nick was aware of what he saying. He thought about getting hurt for something anyway and then finally nodded.

  “We aren’t kids anymore, Nick,” he agreed and put a hand on Nick’s leg. “You aren’t nothing.” When Nick looked unsteadily at him he swayed over and pressed a long, soft kiss to Nick’s neck. Nick’s skin was bare but it still smelled like leather. Nick made a sound like he wanted more, so Chris gave him more, softly kissing his skin again and again until Nick stopped shaking.

  “I’m gone tomorrow.” Nick curved a hand around Chris’s back. Chris took that as invitation to press closer, so he slid in next to him. There wasn’t a mattress down here but he wouldn’t have used one anyway. They were good like this.

  “That’s why you did this now,” Chris murmured sleepily. Nick was leaving, that’s why he’d done this. It did hurt, deep inside Chris’s chest it hurt, which was weird because it felt good at the same time, warm and careful around his racing heart.

  “I didn’t mean to. You looked… I just wanted to talk to you.” Nick sounded like he meant it. Chris wrinkled his nose.

  “Write to me.” He didn’t care if it was bossy.

  “God.” Nick could have been swearing, or praying. “I can’t say no to you.” He looked up and shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Chris moved in even closer. “Do you want your jacket back?”

  “No.” It was all Nick seemed able to say. Chris exhaled as he burrowed down into Nick’s leather jacket and got comfortable against Nick’s shoulder. That was how their sleepovers had always ended, Chris curled into Nicky, Nicky wrapped around him. Nick held still for another minute and then turned toward him and let out a long breath as he relaxed.

  “Nicky?” Chris exhaled with him.

  “Yeah?” He couldn’t tell if Nick was wide awake or not, but he wasn’t moving. He wouldn’t. Not for a few hours anyway.

  “Did you hold the girls like this?” Chris was starting to get used to this hard to breathe feeling inside of him, maybe even like it. It made him think of Nick.

  Nick shook his head then stopped. “No, they all had homes to go to.” He seemed old for a second, or just really tired. Chris played with Nick’s hair, inhaled the air around him for a while. Chris had a home to go to too, but he didn’t say it.

  “You know where my home is,” he said instead, “and when I’ll be there.” It was hard to feel pathetic when he was so warm, and Nick was terrible at breaking hearts because he just nodded. Chris couldn’t tell if it was the jacket or just Nick making him feel like this, but he rubbed his face into Nick’s shoulder.

  “If you try to take your jacket back I’m going to kick your ass,” he commented around a smile and enjoyed Nick’s startled laugh.

  “Take good care of it, all right?” Nick was quiet when he was done laughing. Chris nodded against him, minding his sore eye. He put a hand over Nick’s chest.

  “This is going to hurt in the morning,” he observed as wisely as he could and Nick shuddered but snuck a hand under the jacket and Chris’s shirt to rest his palm on Chris’ stomach. When Chris didn’t say anything he let it rest there, where it slowly grew heavier. Chris was mostly asleep when Nick finally answered.

  “It hurts now, Chris.”

  Chris wanted to taste the words with a kiss. He’d bet they tasted hot and sweet and metallic. He immediately took the thought back. He wanted to make the words go away, or at least kiss them better.

  “Sorry.” But he didn’t move other than to curl his hand into Nick’s skin. Nick didn’t move either except to breathe heavily and slowly slide down to settle against him. Then Chris closed his eyes, because the world kept spinning.

  The End

  ###

  About the author:

  R. Cooper is a big ole dork who is pretty much always writing even if that writing isn’t always fit for printing. She loves shameless sluts and brave heroes and eye patches and spies and space pirates and werewolves and writes about many of these things.

  To find more of Chris and Nicky, or information on any of my other works, please visit my journal http://r-cooper.livejournal.com/

  Cover art by paraxdisepink