Ficlet: Louis/Nick, sprain prequel
Dec. 16th, 2018 07:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magicalrocketshipsALWAYSEVEN ASKED 8. Louis/Nick: Humiliated
Originally posted here.
[prequel to this ridiculous sprain verse, but can probably be read independently to any of those bits :)]
“I’m not going to his party, that’s ridiculous,” Louis says, lobbing himself onto Harry’s sofa, and sprawling out, legs apart.
Harry sits down on the arm of the sofa, and carefully unpeels his banana. “I’m just saying,” he says. “The last three times you’ve got drunk, you’ve had something to say about Nick.”
“Shut up,” Louis says, chucking a cushion at Harry’s head. “It’s not fair, bringing up shit I’ve said when I’m drunk. That’s, like, an unwritten rule of drinking. What happens when I’m drunk, stays when I’m drunk. Or whatever.”
“Hmm,” Harry says. He makes a face round his banana. It’s quite deliciously rude. Louis chucks another cushion at him. It’s a good thing Harry has an almost limitless collection of stupid, squishy cushions. “I’m just going to repeat this when I’m sober, then. If we’re living by your stupid rules.”
“They’re not stupid,” Louis says. Petulantly.
“It’s all right if you fancy my friend,” Harry says, slowly.
Louis goes red. “Shut up.”
“It’s all right if you fancy my friend, and that my friend has a cock.”
“Harry–”
“It’s all right if you want to make friends with his cock,” Harry goes on. “I’m sure it’s just as friendly as the rest of him–”
It’s not Louis’ fault that Harry ends up with banana smeared across his face and in his hair. It’s perfectly reasonable behaviour, all things considered.
~*~
Louis ends up going to Nick’s party.
~*~
He drinks a lot of vodka.
~*~
Like, a lot.
~*~
“Your face is stupid,” Louis says, when Nick finally comes over to talk to him. “Did you know that?”
“No,” Nick says, and sits down. “Did you know you’re sitting in my bath?”
“I’m king of the sea creatures,” Louis says. “Why do you have a duck wearing a beret?”
“It’s a French duck,” Nick says. “And, um, I sort of want to go for a piss.”
Louis makes a big show of pulling the shower curtain over. “There,” he says. “Privacy.”
“This is my bathroom.”
“I know,” Louis says, from behind the shower curtain. He stares up at the ceiling. “I’m at your party.”
“Yes,” Nick says, from the other side of the room. Louis listens to him putting the seat up and then unzipping his sinfully tight jeans. Louis really would quite like to make friends with Nick’s dick. He resists pulling the curtain back to sneak a peek. “This is weird, you know that, right?”
“Girls go to the loo together all the time.”
Nick starts to piss. “Yeah,” he says. “Is there any reason at all you’ve taken up residence in my bath?”
“I told you,” Louis says patiently. The room is spinning in a nice sort of circle thing. “I’m king of the sea creatures.”
“I don’t have any sea creatures,” Nick says, as he finishes pissing. He runs the tap and then comes over to pull the shower curtain back. He sits on the edge of the bath. “I’ve got a French duck.”
“Who accepts me as his rightful king,” Louis says. He’s cradling the rubber duck to his chest.
Nick smiles at him. He’s got a nice smile. It does queer things to Louis’ insides.
Very queer things.
“Are you going to get out of the bath at any point? Someone else is going to want the loo at some point.”
“I have loyal subjects,” Louis says, patting his duck’s head.
Nick rolls his eyes. “You can bring the duck.”
“Fine,” Louis says, giving the most exaggerated sigh he can manage. He makes an effort to stand up. It mostly fails. “If you insist. Although you should call me King too.”
“King Louis. Like in the Jungle Book?”
“Whatever,” Louis says, as primly as he can manage when he’s mostly seeing two of Nick. “Can I have more vodka?”
“Absolutely,” Nick says, and he holds Louis’ hand to help him out of the bath
Very queer things.
~*~
There are three more vodka cocktails in Louis’ post-bath party experience, and every one of them is delicious. He makes Nick put cherries and slices of orange and umbrellas in each of them, and in return, he draws a moustache on Nick’s face in navy Sharpie.
“There,” he says, tapping Nick’s cheek with the lid of the pen. “Much better.”
“Always thought I’d look good with a moustache. I’m proper lazy, though. Can’t be bothered with the upkeep, you know?”
Louis rocks back against the kitchen counter. The flat is full of noise, music and conversation and people, all at once too much and not enough. His heartbeat flutters; his mouth’s dry. Nick is grinning at him, stupid twirly pen-moustache twisting across his face. He has crinkles at the corner of his eyes. They’re pretty.
“Pretty,” he says, pressing his thumb to Nick’s temple. “No, not there.” He moves his thumb down a bit. His gaze keeps dropping to Nick’s mouth and back up again. “There.”
“Louis–”
Louis surges up onto his feet and presses his mouth to Nick’s. He’s drunk and off-centre and it’s a mess, but he kisses him anyway.
He kisses him, one hand to Nick’s hair, and his heart’s pounding, but Nick–Nick isn’t kissing him back.
Nick pushes him away.
The kitchen goes very, very quiet.
“What was that?” Nick asks, wiping his mouth. He steps back, out of Louis’ personal space.
Humiliation sweeps through Louis like a forest fire of embarrassment. “Nothing,” he says, trying not to look over Nick’s shoulder to all of Nick’s friends, all staring.
“You’re drunk,” Nick says. “What were you–god, Louis. You’re proper pissed.”
That doesn’t make his dick less capable of making decisions about who he’d like to have sex with. Louis kicks at Nick’s kitchen cupboard with his heel. There were only a handful of people who knew he liked dick, or at least, there had been up until two minutes ago. He’s going to be sick.
Nick hadn’t kissed him back. He’d kissed him, and Nick hadn’t kissed him back. God. God.
“I should go,” he says, trying not to trip over his feet. He’s still clutching Nick’s French duck.
“Yeah,” Nick says, one hand still touching his mouth. “Yeah, um. You probably should.”
~*~
Louis doesn’t talk to him again after that.
Nick makes it especially easy by not talking to him, either.
Louis still has that fucking duck, hidden in a box under his bed.
Originally posted here.
[prequel to this ridiculous sprain verse, but can probably be read independently to any of those bits :)]
“I’m not going to his party, that’s ridiculous,” Louis says, lobbing himself onto Harry’s sofa, and sprawling out, legs apart.
Harry sits down on the arm of the sofa, and carefully unpeels his banana. “I’m just saying,” he says. “The last three times you’ve got drunk, you’ve had something to say about Nick.”
“Shut up,” Louis says, chucking a cushion at Harry’s head. “It’s not fair, bringing up shit I’ve said when I’m drunk. That’s, like, an unwritten rule of drinking. What happens when I’m drunk, stays when I’m drunk. Or whatever.”
“Hmm,” Harry says. He makes a face round his banana. It’s quite deliciously rude. Louis chucks another cushion at him. It’s a good thing Harry has an almost limitless collection of stupid, squishy cushions. “I’m just going to repeat this when I’m sober, then. If we’re living by your stupid rules.”
“They’re not stupid,” Louis says. Petulantly.
“It’s all right if you fancy my friend,” Harry says, slowly.
Louis goes red. “Shut up.”
“It’s all right if you fancy my friend, and that my friend has a cock.”
“Harry–”
“It’s all right if you want to make friends with his cock,” Harry goes on. “I’m sure it’s just as friendly as the rest of him–”
It’s not Louis’ fault that Harry ends up with banana smeared across his face and in his hair. It’s perfectly reasonable behaviour, all things considered.
~*~
Louis ends up going to Nick’s party.
~*~
He drinks a lot of vodka.
~*~
Like, a lot.
~*~
“Your face is stupid,” Louis says, when Nick finally comes over to talk to him. “Did you know that?”
“No,” Nick says, and sits down. “Did you know you’re sitting in my bath?”
“I’m king of the sea creatures,” Louis says. “Why do you have a duck wearing a beret?”
“It’s a French duck,” Nick says. “And, um, I sort of want to go for a piss.”
Louis makes a big show of pulling the shower curtain over. “There,” he says. “Privacy.”
“This is my bathroom.”
“I know,” Louis says, from behind the shower curtain. He stares up at the ceiling. “I’m at your party.”
“Yes,” Nick says, from the other side of the room. Louis listens to him putting the seat up and then unzipping his sinfully tight jeans. Louis really would quite like to make friends with Nick’s dick. He resists pulling the curtain back to sneak a peek. “This is weird, you know that, right?”
“Girls go to the loo together all the time.”
Nick starts to piss. “Yeah,” he says. “Is there any reason at all you’ve taken up residence in my bath?”
“I told you,” Louis says patiently. The room is spinning in a nice sort of circle thing. “I’m king of the sea creatures.”
“I don’t have any sea creatures,” Nick says, as he finishes pissing. He runs the tap and then comes over to pull the shower curtain back. He sits on the edge of the bath. “I’ve got a French duck.”
“Who accepts me as his rightful king,” Louis says. He’s cradling the rubber duck to his chest.
Nick smiles at him. He’s got a nice smile. It does queer things to Louis’ insides.
Very queer things.
“Are you going to get out of the bath at any point? Someone else is going to want the loo at some point.”
“I have loyal subjects,” Louis says, patting his duck’s head.
Nick rolls his eyes. “You can bring the duck.”
“Fine,” Louis says, giving the most exaggerated sigh he can manage. He makes an effort to stand up. It mostly fails. “If you insist. Although you should call me King too.”
“King Louis. Like in the Jungle Book?”
“Whatever,” Louis says, as primly as he can manage when he’s mostly seeing two of Nick. “Can I have more vodka?”
“Absolutely,” Nick says, and he holds Louis’ hand to help him out of the bath
Very queer things.
~*~
There are three more vodka cocktails in Louis’ post-bath party experience, and every one of them is delicious. He makes Nick put cherries and slices of orange and umbrellas in each of them, and in return, he draws a moustache on Nick’s face in navy Sharpie.
“There,” he says, tapping Nick’s cheek with the lid of the pen. “Much better.”
“Always thought I’d look good with a moustache. I’m proper lazy, though. Can’t be bothered with the upkeep, you know?”
Louis rocks back against the kitchen counter. The flat is full of noise, music and conversation and people, all at once too much and not enough. His heartbeat flutters; his mouth’s dry. Nick is grinning at him, stupid twirly pen-moustache twisting across his face. He has crinkles at the corner of his eyes. They’re pretty.
“Pretty,” he says, pressing his thumb to Nick’s temple. “No, not there.” He moves his thumb down a bit. His gaze keeps dropping to Nick’s mouth and back up again. “There.”
“Louis–”
Louis surges up onto his feet and presses his mouth to Nick’s. He’s drunk and off-centre and it’s a mess, but he kisses him anyway.
He kisses him, one hand to Nick’s hair, and his heart’s pounding, but Nick–Nick isn’t kissing him back.
Nick pushes him away.
The kitchen goes very, very quiet.
“What was that?” Nick asks, wiping his mouth. He steps back, out of Louis’ personal space.
Humiliation sweeps through Louis like a forest fire of embarrassment. “Nothing,” he says, trying not to look over Nick’s shoulder to all of Nick’s friends, all staring.
“You’re drunk,” Nick says. “What were you–god, Louis. You’re proper pissed.”
That doesn’t make his dick less capable of making decisions about who he’d like to have sex with. Louis kicks at Nick’s kitchen cupboard with his heel. There were only a handful of people who knew he liked dick, or at least, there had been up until two minutes ago. He’s going to be sick.
Nick hadn’t kissed him back. He’d kissed him, and Nick hadn’t kissed him back. God. God.
“I should go,” he says, trying not to trip over his feet. He’s still clutching Nick’s French duck.
“Yeah,” Nick says, one hand still touching his mouth. “Yeah, um. You probably should.”
~*~
Louis doesn’t talk to him again after that.
Nick makes it especially easy by not talking to him, either.
Louis still has that fucking duck, hidden in a box under his bed.
