Lucille Fisher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
novel_machinist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-06-03 01:41 pm
novel_machinist) wrote in rainbowfic2015-06-03 01:41 pm
The Devil is a Gentleman Literary / Octarine 24
Author: novel_machinist
Story: The Devil is a Gentleman
Theme: Literary / Octarine 24. You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage.
Word Count: 962
Summary: Alan's card game is going well. Avoiding the important things is going as good as can be expected. Of course, now he's alone with Nick and needs to remember how to flirt.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Talk of cancer/death
Notes: Rough draft of The Devil is a Gentleman continues. I fixed a continuity error here. Alan left his computer bag at work. Any encouragement is appreciated. Questions and comments are also adored.
“Well I’m out, fellas. You’re both sons of bitches and I like ya.” Carl stood slowly, his drunken form swaying slightly. “Hey, maybe I should get a ride home...ya think?”
Alan made a face, he wasn't as drunk as his friend, but he wasn't going to risk dealing with a cop tonight. "I'm not right to drive either."
After considering in the deep manner only reserved for drunks and toddlers, Carl came to a realization, "I can hail a taxi, I have money."
"That sounds like a great idea, I-" Alan caught himself before simply tagging along. He and Carl lived in the same apartment building; it would have been an easy matter to share the taxi. However, he noticed Nick still regarding him with a slight intensity that made his stomach knot up. It had been a long time since Alan had dated anyone seriously for various reasons. He wasn't the kind to just hop into bed with a man that he just met, but he may have the bravery reserve to ask Nick out for a cup of coffee after the bars closed. He could just get his own taxi after. "-I will help you outside. Ah… you want to hang out a while still, Nick?"
Nick's perfectly symmetrical mouth turned up at the corner. "I could hang out a while, sure."
Alan turned to help Carl so Nick wouldn't see him let out the breath that he'd been holding.
“So, what’s the deal with you and the pretty kid?” Carl asked once they were outside waiting for a taxi to drive past.
He wrinkled his nose. “There is no thing, Carl.”
"Looked like a thing to me."
“Gays do not age like you straight people do.” Alan wasn’t going to get his hopes up. “I’m about eighty-seven in gay years.”
“You’re only forty, Al.”
“Exactly, eighty-seven in gay years”
Carl flicked his tongue out to wet lips that were in a constant state of dry and cracking before he swallowed and took a long drag of his cigarette. While the smoke billowed out of his nose and mouth, Carl focused on the stick and didn't look up at his friend when he spoke. “Look, Al, I ain’t gonna be around much longer. I don’t want you to be all by yourself.”
“Carl, let’s not talk about this while you’re drunk.”
“I don’t fucking have the guts to talk about it when I’m sober.”
"Carl- I-" Alan was good with words, good with cards and putting on a face. However, this was a matter he had no idea how to handle. He wanted to say so many things. Nothing felt profound enough to say without his voice breaking. Lately his voice always felt like breaking. The taxi pulled up then and saved them both the trouble.
“You’re not old.” Carl said with some finality.
Alan shook his head. “Go home, Carl. See you tomorrow morning.”
"I want to hear about it."
"They'll be nothing to say." But this conversation was better than the one they were avoiding. This conversation was normal.
Alan took a deep breath of his own to steady himself before he opened the door and headed back inside. Once back in the bar, Alan flopped down in his seat across from Nick who was counting out winnings.
He continued his intent observation of Alan. “You’re pretty good there, Al.”
Alan shrugged. “When I was your age I put myself through college with poker.” He clenched his jaw and watched as Nick shoved a stack of money in a slightly overstuffed wallet. He wondered what the kid did for a living.
“You can’t be that old.” Nick leaned over the back of his chair with the self-assured air of youth.
The attention made Alan feel good, regardless of how true it was. "Compared to you?"
"Let's say I'm older than I look." Nick responded. "You want another beer?"
"Actually I was going to ask you if you-" Alan reached for his computer bag before he realized that it was in his office. On his desk. In the locked building along with his phone, wallet, and keys. Carl's coughing fit had distracted him. "Goddamnit." Alan let his head hit the table top.
Nick flinched. "Hey, watch the language, Alan."
Alan blinked. "You religious?"
"You could say that." Nick smiled and leaned over on the table himself, to be eye level with Alan. "What's wrong?"
Oh if this didn’t sound like a line, Alan didn’t know what did. “I left my keys at work.”
Nick sat up and crooked his arm back over his jacket. "I live close by; you could just stay there till the morning." The smile turned into an outright smirk. "And anyway, I did sort of just take enough to pay my rent from you."
"Asshole." Alan snapped and then sat up, "err, I'm sorry."
Nick, was still reclined against the chair. He sounded a bit confused for the apology. "For what?"
"My language. I usually don't curse a lot, I'm jus-" Under a lot of stress. How do you say 'my best friend is dying and there's nothing I can do about it' to a man you are trying to ask out for coffee?
"Oh, don't worry; most of it doesn't bother me at all, just the one. Shouldn't go about damnating things."
Alan pushed himself from the table and staggered a bit. Though he had been fine to help Carl out, suddenly the beer hit him. “How much did we drink?”
"You put back something impressive." Nick consented.
“You must have the tolerance of some sort of god then.”
The smile that Nick threw Alan was absolutely devilish and made Alan’s mind wander to extremely inappropriate places. “Come on, before we get tossed out.”
novel_machinistStory: The Devil is a Gentleman
Theme: Literary / Octarine 24. You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage.
Word Count: 962
Summary: Alan's card game is going well. Avoiding the important things is going as good as can be expected. Of course, now he's alone with Nick and needs to remember how to flirt.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Talk of cancer/death
Notes: Rough draft of The Devil is a Gentleman continues. I fixed a continuity error here. Alan left his computer bag at work. Any encouragement is appreciated. Questions and comments are also adored.
“Well I’m out, fellas. You’re both sons of bitches and I like ya.” Carl stood slowly, his drunken form swaying slightly. “Hey, maybe I should get a ride home...ya think?”
Alan made a face, he wasn't as drunk as his friend, but he wasn't going to risk dealing with a cop tonight. "I'm not right to drive either."
After considering in the deep manner only reserved for drunks and toddlers, Carl came to a realization, "I can hail a taxi, I have money."
"That sounds like a great idea, I-" Alan caught himself before simply tagging along. He and Carl lived in the same apartment building; it would have been an easy matter to share the taxi. However, he noticed Nick still regarding him with a slight intensity that made his stomach knot up. It had been a long time since Alan had dated anyone seriously for various reasons. He wasn't the kind to just hop into bed with a man that he just met, but he may have the bravery reserve to ask Nick out for a cup of coffee after the bars closed. He could just get his own taxi after. "-I will help you outside. Ah… you want to hang out a while still, Nick?"
Nick's perfectly symmetrical mouth turned up at the corner. "I could hang out a while, sure."
Alan turned to help Carl so Nick wouldn't see him let out the breath that he'd been holding.
“So, what’s the deal with you and the pretty kid?” Carl asked once they were outside waiting for a taxi to drive past.
He wrinkled his nose. “There is no thing, Carl.”
"Looked like a thing to me."
“Gays do not age like you straight people do.” Alan wasn’t going to get his hopes up. “I’m about eighty-seven in gay years.”
“You’re only forty, Al.”
“Exactly, eighty-seven in gay years”
Carl flicked his tongue out to wet lips that were in a constant state of dry and cracking before he swallowed and took a long drag of his cigarette. While the smoke billowed out of his nose and mouth, Carl focused on the stick and didn't look up at his friend when he spoke. “Look, Al, I ain’t gonna be around much longer. I don’t want you to be all by yourself.”
“Carl, let’s not talk about this while you’re drunk.”
“I don’t fucking have the guts to talk about it when I’m sober.”
"Carl- I-" Alan was good with words, good with cards and putting on a face. However, this was a matter he had no idea how to handle. He wanted to say so many things. Nothing felt profound enough to say without his voice breaking. Lately his voice always felt like breaking. The taxi pulled up then and saved them both the trouble.
“You’re not old.” Carl said with some finality.
Alan shook his head. “Go home, Carl. See you tomorrow morning.”
"I want to hear about it."
"They'll be nothing to say." But this conversation was better than the one they were avoiding. This conversation was normal.
Alan took a deep breath of his own to steady himself before he opened the door and headed back inside. Once back in the bar, Alan flopped down in his seat across from Nick who was counting out winnings.
He continued his intent observation of Alan. “You’re pretty good there, Al.”
Alan shrugged. “When I was your age I put myself through college with poker.” He clenched his jaw and watched as Nick shoved a stack of money in a slightly overstuffed wallet. He wondered what the kid did for a living.
“You can’t be that old.” Nick leaned over the back of his chair with the self-assured air of youth.
The attention made Alan feel good, regardless of how true it was. "Compared to you?"
"Let's say I'm older than I look." Nick responded. "You want another beer?"
"Actually I was going to ask you if you-" Alan reached for his computer bag before he realized that it was in his office. On his desk. In the locked building along with his phone, wallet, and keys. Carl's coughing fit had distracted him. "Goddamnit." Alan let his head hit the table top.
Nick flinched. "Hey, watch the language, Alan."
Alan blinked. "You religious?"
"You could say that." Nick smiled and leaned over on the table himself, to be eye level with Alan. "What's wrong?"
Oh if this didn’t sound like a line, Alan didn’t know what did. “I left my keys at work.”
Nick sat up and crooked his arm back over his jacket. "I live close by; you could just stay there till the morning." The smile turned into an outright smirk. "And anyway, I did sort of just take enough to pay my rent from you."
"Asshole." Alan snapped and then sat up, "err, I'm sorry."
Nick, was still reclined against the chair. He sounded a bit confused for the apology. "For what?"
"My language. I usually don't curse a lot, I'm jus-" Under a lot of stress. How do you say 'my best friend is dying and there's nothing I can do about it' to a man you are trying to ask out for coffee?
"Oh, don't worry; most of it doesn't bother me at all, just the one. Shouldn't go about damnating things."
Alan pushed himself from the table and staggered a bit. Though he had been fine to help Carl out, suddenly the beer hit him. “How much did we drink?”
"You put back something impressive." Nick consented.
“You must have the tolerance of some sort of god then.”
The smile that Nick threw Alan was absolutely devilish and made Alan’s mind wander to extremely inappropriate places. “Come on, before we get tossed out.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
But then it's more Alan's unfortunate taste. XD
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He's a perfect cinnamon roll.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Thank you!