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rainbowfic2012-03-01 10:58 am
geena) wrote in rainbowfic2012-03-01 10:58 am
Olive Drab and Alice Blue
Author: Kelly and Geena
Color: Olive Drab 25. “I don’t like being frightened. It scares me.” [Kelly]; Alice Blue 19. off with their heads
Styles and Supplies: Interactive Art; Nubs (of Bright is the Ring); Novelty Beads (“Let the dead bury the dead, they will come out in droves” from Clare for Kelly; It's empty in the valley of your heart/The sun, it rises slowly as you walk/Away from all the fears/And all the faults you've left behind for Geena), brush (abeyance)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,380
Story: Polyfaceted (Index ~ Timeline); the title of this piece is "All the Faults You’ve Left Behind".
Notes: Takes place in early May of 2010 in canon. Trigger warning for discussion of past domestic physical and sexual abuse. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome.
Summary: Nicoletta’s solution to getting Michael to talk about a previous relationship may not be conventional, but it has pretty good odds of working.
***
David is past the point of asking why Nicoletta wants the drugs she wants. Sometimes he's a bitch about it, but she always pays his asking price, so she gets it. In this case, it's cost her a decent amount, given it's just pot, but considering the quality of the pot, it's well worth it. Especially considering her reason for wanting to get Michael so very, very high.
Michael's taking a week of vacation time, which is understandable considering his brother opening his mouth, and as long as Nicoletta gets him high long enough in advance of going back to work, he shouldn't need to worry about a piss test. She sends her girls to her brother's for the weekend and gives Stacey the time off. Johnny is ostensibly working, if by that Nicoletta means researching, so having Michael over is no issue. Really. It's a phone call that involves asking, "You want to come over?"
"Okay." He doesn't sound terribly enthusiastic.
"I have vodka…"
There's a brief hesitation before, "Vodka?"
"I'll call a car to come pick you up."
That seems to seal it. "Yeah, okay. Just give me an h—better make it two hours."
"Okay," she agrees. "I'll be there at one. My girls are gone, too, so don't worry about that."
"One," Michael says. "I'll be ready."
"Good. Bye, Michael." She hangs up the phone. Plenty of time to order in food and be sure she actually has good enough vodka and everything else for his drinks. He won't drink much, not with the pot, but he'll still drink.
Two hours later, as promised, Nicoletta pulls up to the house, directing the driver to wait at the curb.
"You ready?" she asks when he answers her call on the fifth ring. "I'm at the door."
"It should be unlocked. I'm in the master bathroom."
Nicoletta frowns, letting herself in. "You left the door unlocked?"
"Who's going to come here besides you?" he points out. He still sounds listless.
"Say Johnny got home before I got here. Think he'd be happy?" She climbs the stairs as she asks.
"…I didn't think about it."
Instead of replying over the phone, she ends the call, sticking her head in the master bedroom. "Coming?" she calls. "It's good vodka."
"Yeah."
It's not that Michael's disheveled; every hair is in place as usual, his outfit neatly ironed and superbly coordinated. But when he enters the room, something just seems so completely wrong that Nicoletta can't help but breathe, "Shit, Michael…"
"What?" He glances down, furrowing his brow as he scrutinizes himself. "It's the belt, isn't it? I thought I could pull it off, but—"
"No, no, the belt's perfect," she hastens to tell him. "But you look—" Well, like shit. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Um, not…really?" He shrugs. "I've been stressed."
To say the least, from looking at him and what Johnny's been telling her. "I have stuff to help with stress. Come on."
"Stuff?" Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. She guides him to the stairs without another word.
It isn't until they're in the car, already well on their way to her place, that Nicoletta answers him. "It's harmless pot, and before you say anything, you'll have plenty of time to get it out of your system before your vacation is over." She reaches for his hand, lightly squeezing. "You need to calm down. You trust me, right?"
"I don't know," he starts. "Johnny—"
"I already let him know, and he's cool with it." Encouraging it, actually. "He thinks a break would be a good idea. From stress," she adds hastily when she sees his expression. "Nothing else. Just being stressed."
"Right." There's a hint of flatness to Michael's tone. "So we're going back to your place to get high?"
"Don't sound so skeptical until you've tried the shit only Corlionis can get. Look, I just want to help out and make sure that you're okay." Nicoletta narrows her eyes, peering at him and asking not unkindly, "Are you okay?"
"You promised me vodka," Michael half-pouts, which is at least something. She grins at him.
"There is vodka, and tonic, and lemon. Vodka's in the freezer. I'll pour you a drink as soon as we get there." Nudging him with her elbow, she asks, "So are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he says, way too fast. "Fine. Really."
"Yeah, I am so not buying that."
"Why is everyone so obsessed with how I'm doing lately?" he complains. With a sigh, Michael turns to stare out the window, mumbling, "I've been better."
Nicoletta carefully keeps her expression neutral. "If I have any say, you'll be even better by tonight."
"Are things with Johnny going to be better, too?" he mutters.
She glances over at him. "I wasn't aware they were bad," she says blandly.
Michael swallows, averting his eyes. "Ever since Charles—ever since, Johnny's barely been able to look at me. He's avoiding me and it's been days since we've really talked. What am I supposed to think?"
They arrive at Nicoletta's at that moment, so she holds off on saying anything quite yet. Instead, she exits the car, making sure Michael's following close behind as she enters the house and beelines for the living room. "Pick a movie," she directs him once they get there. "I'll get you a drink. You want it strong this time?"
He sounds thoroughly lost when he answers, "Okay," as he wanders toward her DVD cabinet. She's going to have to tell Johnny to actually let Michael know what he's thinking.
In the kitchen, she carves a double-twist of lemon and drops it in a highball glass on top of a few ice cubes before pouring a double of vodka and topping it off with tonic. Then she gets herself a soda and returns to the living room, handing Michael his glass. "What'd you pick?" she asks.
"The Notebook or Top Gun," Michael replies, holding out either option.
Raising her eyebrow at the selection, Nicoletta decides on Top Gun. This night's supposed to be about relaxation and levity—they've had enough of the solemn, maudlin shit already. As she turns on the entertainment system, she remarks, "Pot and Top Gun could be an interesting combination."
Michael shrugs, sipping at his drink.
"So when did you last get high?" she asks once the movie's started, rejoining him on the couch. She twists the top off her soda and stretches her legs out in front of her.
He shrugs again. He's going to have to stop that. "It's been a long time. Ten years, I think." Right, because he's way older than her, that makes sense. Ten years ago, she was an eighth-grader.
"Jesus, ten years?" She glances him over, head to toe. "No wonder you're so high-strung." Nicoletta rises, setting down her soda as she strides toward the doorway. "I'll be right back." It's only a moment's work to dash into her office. Before long, she returns, triumphantly brandishing the pot and vaporizer. "See, what you need—"
"Aaron hated it," Michael suddenly blurts out, and when did most of his drink disappear? "So I stopped. Plus work, too, but he—he didn't approve."
"I heard you didn't approve of aspects of your relationship with Aaron," she says. She busies herself setting up the vaporizer before plugging it in.
"Wait, you heard—" he begins, then squints. "Is that white?"
"Yes it is."
"I know it's been a long time since I last smoked, but I remember pot being green."
"Oh, honey." She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. "Poor people smoke green pot."
"And this is…rich-people marijuana?"
Nicoletta laughs. "This is out of their league." Switching it on, she adjusts the temperature and adds, "So you need to hit slow for a while."
"I can handle it," Michael says.
"Maybe, but it's been years," she says doubtfully before rejoining him on the couch.
With a disbelieving air, Michael leans in and reaches for the vaporizer. In moments, he's hurled into a coughing fit, doubling over while Nicoletta soothingly pats his back.
"I warned you."
"Jesus," Michael gasps, eventually straightening up. "Jesus."
"Here." She passes him her soda. "Or you can get water. Seriously, this is good, so maybe listen about it. It's all I smoke now."
"There was a time you tried cheap stuff?" Michael gets out after a few swallows of her soda.
"When I was with Damien. It's all he could afford. Really, really shitty cheap stuff, too." She takes her own hit, inhaling slowly and savoring it. "You want water?"
Michael shakes his head, hesitantly taking the vaporizer from her. He's much more careful this time, and while there's some coughing as he exhales, it's much more manageable this time.
"Whoa."
"Feeling it?" Nicoletta asks, amused.
"I, uh. I think so?"
"Oh honey, you're going to know so soon." Given the quality, he'd better, anyway. Not that it won't be obvious by his behavior. "So you and my brother are having issues?" She asks it as casually as possible and takes the vaporizer from him.
Michael slowly blinks before answering. "I don't know that you can say 'issues', but…" He glances away, and Nicoletta takes advantage of his pause to take a deep hit. "But he avoids me. He won't talk to me, he's never home… It's like Johnny can't stand to look at me anymore."
"Have you said anything?"
"Well…"
She shakes her head slowly. "Michael, he's not a mindreader, you know. He can't just look at you and know that's what you think he's doing. He loves you, but he's still an idiot sometimes."
"Don't call him that," he protests.
She lifts an eyebrow and passes him the vaporizer. "I've known him a lot longer, and he's my brother. I get to call him an idiot. Which he is. But believe me, it's not that he doesn't care or anything."
"Right. He's just been unusually busy ever since my brother blabbed." Michael turns away, carefully taking a hit before setting the vaporizer down.
"He could be, but you'll never know if you don't say anything. After two years, you've got to understand that it's a little surprising to find out—" Nicoletta narrows her eyes. "Are you okay?"
"It's working," Michael gasps.
"I'm going to get you a drink," Nicoletta decides. "Watch the pretty boys." She gestures to the TV, where Top Gun is still playing, and stands.
"They are pretty," Michael calls after her. "Even if Tom Cruise is a dick."
She scrounges a Coke Zero and another soda for herself and returns to her living room. "Personally, I like Tom Skerritt." She passes him his soda and twists the cap off her own. "So talk to me. Why haven't you asked Johnny yet?"
"Great."
Nicoletta gently smiles. "I love you, but I'm not letting you off that easy."
Michael takes a long swig from his drink, anxiously setting the can on the table just so before finally speaking. "I guess I'm worried about what he's going to say. I don't—I know he's mad that I never told him. That much is obvious, he's mad as hell. But I can't handle having him tell me he, I don't know, 'needs his space' or 'has to think things through'." He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and adding, "And I don't want to hear that he's disappointed or disgusted in me."
"Oh, honey." She shifts closer on the couch, wrapping an arm around him. "Stop being stupid."
Michael opens his eyes a slit, glancing to her. "You're not being comforting."
"Hey, if you want comfort, you can use my tits as pillows. Why the hell would Johnny be mad at you? Think about it—has he ever been mad at you for something that's not your fault? I mean, sure, he's going to want to know why the fuck you never told him," and so does she, for that matter, "but there's nothing to blame you for. He's fair—with you, I mean."
Michael shifts on the couch, resting his head on her chest. "Then why's he avoiding me?"
"He's not avoiding you. Johnny's just…" Nicoletta hesitates. "He doesn't want his anger to scare you, is all. I'm sure."
He twists his neck to eye her. "Well, he's kind of doing a shit job of it, isn't he?"
Nicoletta laughs. "Yeah."
"Maybe you're right and he's an idiot," Michael mutters. He turns back to watching the movie.
"You're not exactly bringing things up to him," she points out.
"Shut up," he protests. "I should get to sulk about things."
"I heard you've been sulking all week."
"Not to you."
"Oh, okay. Then you get five minutes of sulking and another hit before I ask more questions." She runs her nails through his hair, letting silence outside the movie fall over the room.
"You suck."
"Not for you, babe," Nicoletta reassures him.
Michael rolls his eyes, pulling away to reach for the vaporizer. He takes a long, careful hit before passing it on to her.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks as he exhales.
"I didn't want to think about it," he says tonelessly. "Like if I didn't tell him, it couldn't affect things."
"Did anyway, didn't it?" she asks, and takes her own hit before turning the vaporizer off for the moment. It takes nearly no time to get back to temperature; when Michael's either told her more or come down a little, she'll turn it back on.
"Yeah," he sighs, and makes himself comfortable against her again. "There were…things it affected."
"So was it that it couldn't affect things, or that it wouldn't be real if you didn't say?" she presses.
Michael doesn't answer.
"He doesn't want to hurt you," Nicoletta quietly assures him. "Whatever you think right now, that's true. But because he didn't know…well, you can't say that knowing wouldn't have saved you both a problem or two in the past."
"Why do you have to be right?" Michael complains after a moment. He turns his head, pressing his face against her, and she wonders for a moment if he's trying to smother himself. It might work; she makes a mental note to mention that method of killing a man to David later, see what he thinks. But it turns out Michael was just muffling his voice, because he continues, "It wasn't real anymore. No one talked about it, except Charles asking once and that didn't even use his name, and Johnny didn't know. It never happened."
"Oh, sweetie."
"And now it did, because my brother is an asshole, and Johnny's mad and not talking to me."
"He's not mad," Nicoletta insists, holding Michael's gaze steady. "At least, not at you. He wants to rip the bastard's head off, sure, but--"
"Wouldn't mind if he did, no less than Aaron deserves," Michael mutters under his breath.
Noted. "He's Johnny, all right? He loves you and he wants to take care of you. If anything, the idiot's probably mad at himself for not seeing it sooner."
"Stop calling him an idiot," he insists. "He's not."
"He's sure as hell not being smart right now." She runs her fingers through his hair again, and it's a mark of how high Michael is that he doesn't protest at all. Either that, or he remembers that she doesn't give a fuck if he steals her hair products. "It's not like avoiding talking to you is the best way to deal with things."
"You said it. I could have said something."
"Yeah, so maybe you're both idiots. But he didn't know if you needed space or not, unless he asked, and I'm guessing he didn't."
"Well," he admits, absently tracing a pattern on her knee with his first two fingers, "no, he didn't. But I didn't say anything."
Nicoletta sighs. "Michael, he's not mad, he's not upset with you, he's just worried. I promise. He loves you and he hates to see you hurting." Guiding his chin until she can catch his eye, she adds, "He's not the only one."
"Your brother's going to be mad that you're hitting on me," he informs her with just a hint of joking. She'll take whatever she can get in that arena.
"Please, I could lure you away in a heartbeat, I don't care how gay you are." She grins at him. "But I won't because, one, you're too pretty to be my type, and two, you and my brother are much too perfect for anyone to interfere. I'll cut them if they try. And that includes either of you."
For a long moment, Michael simply stares at Nicoletta, brow furrowed. "Why do I get the feeling you're not joking?"
"Because I'm not," she happily answers.
Sighing, Michael sits up, resting his elbows on his knees while he drops his head into his hands. "I fucked up, didn't I? It's not that—I knew I should have told him, I did. But everything was going so well. At first, it was just this casual thing, and then it was too early to get into the serious stuff, then the timing never seemed right… eventually, it was just too late. I couldn't." He inhales deeply. "Charles never said anything, but I think he always wondered why I stayed. Why I let Aaron do those—those things. The look he'd get in his eyes, Nic. I didn't want to see that on Johnny's face, so I tried to avoid it. And instead, I fucked it all up."
"Michael. Sweetheart. Look at me." She waits until he does without moving his hands so that he's glancing through his fingers while his other hand supports his cheek. "You didn't fuck anything up. Not much, anyway. Nothing that can't be fixed. But you idiots have to talk to each other. Fuck, the main guy I'm seeing lives across the Atlantic and is married, and I still talk out this shit better than you two have been." He's looking more emo, so she runs her nails lightly down the back of his shirt. "But you can fix it no problem. And, I mean, you have reasons for not telling him. Pretty decent reasons, too. He's being a bigger idiot than you, and your brother's a dick. Look, before you go home, I'll make sure you're relaxed enough to talk to him, but you have to promise you will talk to him."
"You're holding the pot hostage?" he asks incredulously.
"If that's how you want to look at it." She grins. "So. Another hit?"
Michael manages a wavering smile. "Yeah, I'll promise. Now hand that over."
Nicoletta does just that, watching him inhale sharply before quietly adding, "I wish you had told me."
Michael exhales slowly, almost managing a smoke ring before answering. "If I couldn't tell Johnny, how could I tell you?"
"Because I'm not sleeping with you, sweetie. I love you, and you love me, but not the in-love kind of love. That's how." She runs her nails through her hair, destroying its careful sculpting to scratch her nails along his scalp. She watches him a moment before saying, "If you tell me now, it might be easier to tell him."
Silence. The silence envelops them both, stretching between them for three long minutes while Michael closes his eyes and exhales. But then, finally, he croaks out, "I met Aaron at a bar. He was sweet, charming, and attractive as hell. Plus, there was this whole air of mystery surrounding him, and I was hooked. It took me awhile to realize it, but I was immediately hooked. Next thing I knew, I was seeing him all the time and spending more nights at his place than mine. He just seemed so perfect, you know? But things changed fast."
Nicoletta lets him take another hit before reaching over and turning the vaporizer off. "More in a minute," she says at his look. "I don't want you so high you can't think at all before you go home."
"Oh." He finishes exhaling and turns so he can lean his head back on her chest. She plays with the top button on his shirt while she waits. "I moved in with him fast, within a month. He told me to break my lease, so I did. I guess—that meant I didn't have anywhere else to go. It was still good for a little while after that, something like a couple of weeks. Everything was consensual that long."
There's a flash of something indescribable in Nicoletta's expression.
Fiddling with the knee of his pants, Michael practically whispers, "It started with the yelling. Aaron was stressed, I told myself. He was under a lot of pressure at work and he didn't mean to let his temper get out of hand." He bites his lip and agonizes over his next words. "I don't even think he meant to do it the first time he smacked me. Even now, I think it was an accident. He felt terrible and I made excuses. I forgave him, even after the second and third times. Aaron was stressed and it was my fault for provoking him." Eyes watering, he locks his gaze with Nicoletta's as he breathes, "I really convinced myself of that. I-I can't stop from thinking that."
"Oh, Michael," she breathes, and kisses his forehead. "Sweetheart. It wasn't." She suspects if she pushes that right now, though, he's going to shy away from the whole subject.
"It was another…month and a half." Michael swallows. "I remember. I wasn't in the mood for sex, but he was. I told him no. He didn't…make me, that time, but he was so mad. I don't know why he was, we had sex all the time, but he kept yelling at me, and I was afraid. I tried to go in the bedroom, and he grabbed my arm. He was bigger than me by a lot, and a lot stronger, and when he grabbed, I couldn't get away. He threw me on the bed and pulled off his belt and…Nic, I tried to say no. I used my safeword." She wraps her arms around him, kissing his forehead, as his voice breaks. "He wouldn't stop."
Nicoletta continues to run her fingers through his hair, waiting patiently or him to speak.
"I probably should have—I didn't, though. I stayed. It was a long time before I dared to refuse him again." Michael chokes. "And when I did, he just forced me."
"Oh god," Nicoletta mutters as her hand stills.
"I guess I thought that if I could pretend that none of it happened, I would have to deal with any of it. That it'd go away." Coughing, he adds, "It'll never go away."
She's not remotely surprised by the dampness under his eyes, and she wipes it away with the pads of her thumbs. "No," she agrees quietly, "it won't, but you have us now, not him."
He gives her a watery smile. "Yeah. Unless I fucked things up with Johnny too much, anyway."
She pokes him in the ribs, making him jump away. "A, no you didn't, and b, even if you did, you'd have me. And c, no you didn't." She kisses his forehead lightly and leans just enough to turn the vaporizer back on. "I've seen your scars, sweetheart. Those aren't from a belt."
"No," he eventually gets out. "Not all of them." Leaning forward, Michael takes a deep hit, holding it until he doubles over coughing. When he can talk again, he mutters, "Sometimes he's burn me. Or use other things." Sitting up suddenly, he turns to face Nicoletta. "But you're not exactly the person I should be telling this to.
She hesitates. "No, not exactly. But I can be one of them."
Michael meets her eyes for a split second before glancing away. "So you don't…hate me or anything?"
"Michael!" she exclaims. "Michael. No, I don't." She rubs a hand up and down his back. "There is no way I could hate you, I promise. You're pretty much my favorite in-law and one of my favorite friends." She reaches to gently turn his jaw so their eyes meet. "And Johnny will not hate you, either."
"I almost believe you."
"You should," she stresses, reaching for the vaporizer. "Because everything I say is right and you know it. Now come here, have a few more hits, and then I'll take you back to Johnny and you can tell him all of this." Nicoletta softens. "And I promise, everything will work itself out."
"You're fantastic."
"I know."
While Michael gets himself higher than he's probably been since the first time he smoked—and quite likely higher than even then—Nicoletta finds him some snacks, a bag of chips and a couple of brownies left from the last time Stacey made them. Given the way they disappear, and the fact that Michael's starting to visibly loosen up, it's having a good effect.
"Do you have anything else?" he asks her after the last chip and another hit.
"I have a ride back to Johnny. How does that sound?"
"Not as good as brownies," he decides with no trace of irony. "But necessary, I think."
"You think right." Nicoletta rises to her feet, checking for her phone and wallet before making sure Michael has his. Looping her arm through his, she guides him off the couch and pulls him close. "You'll do fine. Now let's go."
"You're too good to me."
"You know it."
Michael stumbles the first couple of steps and laughs at himself; Nicoletta shakes her head and makes sure she has a decent grip. "You like my pot?" she asks.
"Your pot is the best pot."
"You see why I get white instead of green?" she asks, making a face. Green.
"Can I have more sometime?"
"If you're not working within a few days and Johnny's not going to be pissed at me," she promises, opening the door to the garage. "Come on, sweetie."
He leans against her heavily. "Thank you. I mean that, Nic. Thank you for everything. "
They make it to the car, climbing in gracelessly as she replies, "I'd do it all again. You're welcome. "
***
Color: Olive Drab 25. “I don’t like being frightened. It scares me.” [Kelly]; Alice Blue 19. off with their heads
Styles and Supplies: Interactive Art; Nubs (of Bright is the Ring); Novelty Beads (“Let the dead bury the dead, they will come out in droves” from Clare for Kelly; It's empty in the valley of your heart/The sun, it rises slowly as you walk/Away from all the fears/And all the faults you've left behind for Geena), brush (abeyance)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,380
Story: Polyfaceted (Index ~ Timeline); the title of this piece is "All the Faults You’ve Left Behind".
Notes: Takes place in early May of 2010 in canon. Trigger warning for discussion of past domestic physical and sexual abuse. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome.
Summary: Nicoletta’s solution to getting Michael to talk about a previous relationship may not be conventional, but it has pretty good odds of working.
***
David is past the point of asking why Nicoletta wants the drugs she wants. Sometimes he's a bitch about it, but she always pays his asking price, so she gets it. In this case, it's cost her a decent amount, given it's just pot, but considering the quality of the pot, it's well worth it. Especially considering her reason for wanting to get Michael so very, very high.
Michael's taking a week of vacation time, which is understandable considering his brother opening his mouth, and as long as Nicoletta gets him high long enough in advance of going back to work, he shouldn't need to worry about a piss test. She sends her girls to her brother's for the weekend and gives Stacey the time off. Johnny is ostensibly working, if by that Nicoletta means researching, so having Michael over is no issue. Really. It's a phone call that involves asking, "You want to come over?"
"Okay." He doesn't sound terribly enthusiastic.
"I have vodka…"
There's a brief hesitation before, "Vodka?"
"I'll call a car to come pick you up."
That seems to seal it. "Yeah, okay. Just give me an h—better make it two hours."
"Okay," she agrees. "I'll be there at one. My girls are gone, too, so don't worry about that."
"One," Michael says. "I'll be ready."
"Good. Bye, Michael." She hangs up the phone. Plenty of time to order in food and be sure she actually has good enough vodka and everything else for his drinks. He won't drink much, not with the pot, but he'll still drink.
Two hours later, as promised, Nicoletta pulls up to the house, directing the driver to wait at the curb.
"You ready?" she asks when he answers her call on the fifth ring. "I'm at the door."
"It should be unlocked. I'm in the master bathroom."
Nicoletta frowns, letting herself in. "You left the door unlocked?"
"Who's going to come here besides you?" he points out. He still sounds listless.
"Say Johnny got home before I got here. Think he'd be happy?" She climbs the stairs as she asks.
"…I didn't think about it."
Instead of replying over the phone, she ends the call, sticking her head in the master bedroom. "Coming?" she calls. "It's good vodka."
"Yeah."
It's not that Michael's disheveled; every hair is in place as usual, his outfit neatly ironed and superbly coordinated. But when he enters the room, something just seems so completely wrong that Nicoletta can't help but breathe, "Shit, Michael…"
"What?" He glances down, furrowing his brow as he scrutinizes himself. "It's the belt, isn't it? I thought I could pull it off, but—"
"No, no, the belt's perfect," she hastens to tell him. "But you look—" Well, like shit. "Have you been sleeping?"
"Um, not…really?" He shrugs. "I've been stressed."
To say the least, from looking at him and what Johnny's been telling her. "I have stuff to help with stress. Come on."
"Stuff?" Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. She guides him to the stairs without another word.
It isn't until they're in the car, already well on their way to her place, that Nicoletta answers him. "It's harmless pot, and before you say anything, you'll have plenty of time to get it out of your system before your vacation is over." She reaches for his hand, lightly squeezing. "You need to calm down. You trust me, right?"
"I don't know," he starts. "Johnny—"
"I already let him know, and he's cool with it." Encouraging it, actually. "He thinks a break would be a good idea. From stress," she adds hastily when she sees his expression. "Nothing else. Just being stressed."
"Right." There's a hint of flatness to Michael's tone. "So we're going back to your place to get high?"
"Don't sound so skeptical until you've tried the shit only Corlionis can get. Look, I just want to help out and make sure that you're okay." Nicoletta narrows her eyes, peering at him and asking not unkindly, "Are you okay?"
"You promised me vodka," Michael half-pouts, which is at least something. She grins at him.
"There is vodka, and tonic, and lemon. Vodka's in the freezer. I'll pour you a drink as soon as we get there." Nudging him with her elbow, she asks, "So are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he says, way too fast. "Fine. Really."
"Yeah, I am so not buying that."
"Why is everyone so obsessed with how I'm doing lately?" he complains. With a sigh, Michael turns to stare out the window, mumbling, "I've been better."
Nicoletta carefully keeps her expression neutral. "If I have any say, you'll be even better by tonight."
"Are things with Johnny going to be better, too?" he mutters.
She glances over at him. "I wasn't aware they were bad," she says blandly.
Michael swallows, averting his eyes. "Ever since Charles—ever since, Johnny's barely been able to look at me. He's avoiding me and it's been days since we've really talked. What am I supposed to think?"
They arrive at Nicoletta's at that moment, so she holds off on saying anything quite yet. Instead, she exits the car, making sure Michael's following close behind as she enters the house and beelines for the living room. "Pick a movie," she directs him once they get there. "I'll get you a drink. You want it strong this time?"
He sounds thoroughly lost when he answers, "Okay," as he wanders toward her DVD cabinet. She's going to have to tell Johnny to actually let Michael know what he's thinking.
In the kitchen, she carves a double-twist of lemon and drops it in a highball glass on top of a few ice cubes before pouring a double of vodka and topping it off with tonic. Then she gets herself a soda and returns to the living room, handing Michael his glass. "What'd you pick?" she asks.
"The Notebook or Top Gun," Michael replies, holding out either option.
Raising her eyebrow at the selection, Nicoletta decides on Top Gun. This night's supposed to be about relaxation and levity—they've had enough of the solemn, maudlin shit already. As she turns on the entertainment system, she remarks, "Pot and Top Gun could be an interesting combination."
Michael shrugs, sipping at his drink.
"So when did you last get high?" she asks once the movie's started, rejoining him on the couch. She twists the top off her soda and stretches her legs out in front of her.
He shrugs again. He's going to have to stop that. "It's been a long time. Ten years, I think." Right, because he's way older than her, that makes sense. Ten years ago, she was an eighth-grader.
"Jesus, ten years?" She glances him over, head to toe. "No wonder you're so high-strung." Nicoletta rises, setting down her soda as she strides toward the doorway. "I'll be right back." It's only a moment's work to dash into her office. Before long, she returns, triumphantly brandishing the pot and vaporizer. "See, what you need—"
"Aaron hated it," Michael suddenly blurts out, and when did most of his drink disappear? "So I stopped. Plus work, too, but he—he didn't approve."
"I heard you didn't approve of aspects of your relationship with Aaron," she says. She busies herself setting up the vaporizer before plugging it in.
"Wait, you heard—" he begins, then squints. "Is that white?"
"Yes it is."
"I know it's been a long time since I last smoked, but I remember pot being green."
"Oh, honey." She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. "Poor people smoke green pot."
"And this is…rich-people marijuana?"
Nicoletta laughs. "This is out of their league." Switching it on, she adjusts the temperature and adds, "So you need to hit slow for a while."
"I can handle it," Michael says.
"Maybe, but it's been years," she says doubtfully before rejoining him on the couch.
With a disbelieving air, Michael leans in and reaches for the vaporizer. In moments, he's hurled into a coughing fit, doubling over while Nicoletta soothingly pats his back.
"I warned you."
"Jesus," Michael gasps, eventually straightening up. "Jesus."
"Here." She passes him her soda. "Or you can get water. Seriously, this is good, so maybe listen about it. It's all I smoke now."
"There was a time you tried cheap stuff?" Michael gets out after a few swallows of her soda.
"When I was with Damien. It's all he could afford. Really, really shitty cheap stuff, too." She takes her own hit, inhaling slowly and savoring it. "You want water?"
Michael shakes his head, hesitantly taking the vaporizer from her. He's much more careful this time, and while there's some coughing as he exhales, it's much more manageable this time.
"Whoa."
"Feeling it?" Nicoletta asks, amused.
"I, uh. I think so?"
"Oh honey, you're going to know so soon." Given the quality, he'd better, anyway. Not that it won't be obvious by his behavior. "So you and my brother are having issues?" She asks it as casually as possible and takes the vaporizer from him.
Michael slowly blinks before answering. "I don't know that you can say 'issues', but…" He glances away, and Nicoletta takes advantage of his pause to take a deep hit. "But he avoids me. He won't talk to me, he's never home… It's like Johnny can't stand to look at me anymore."
"Have you said anything?"
"Well…"
She shakes her head slowly. "Michael, he's not a mindreader, you know. He can't just look at you and know that's what you think he's doing. He loves you, but he's still an idiot sometimes."
"Don't call him that," he protests.
She lifts an eyebrow and passes him the vaporizer. "I've known him a lot longer, and he's my brother. I get to call him an idiot. Which he is. But believe me, it's not that he doesn't care or anything."
"Right. He's just been unusually busy ever since my brother blabbed." Michael turns away, carefully taking a hit before setting the vaporizer down.
"He could be, but you'll never know if you don't say anything. After two years, you've got to understand that it's a little surprising to find out—" Nicoletta narrows her eyes. "Are you okay?"
"It's working," Michael gasps.
"I'm going to get you a drink," Nicoletta decides. "Watch the pretty boys." She gestures to the TV, where Top Gun is still playing, and stands.
"They are pretty," Michael calls after her. "Even if Tom Cruise is a dick."
She scrounges a Coke Zero and another soda for herself and returns to her living room. "Personally, I like Tom Skerritt." She passes him his soda and twists the cap off her own. "So talk to me. Why haven't you asked Johnny yet?"
"Great."
Nicoletta gently smiles. "I love you, but I'm not letting you off that easy."
Michael takes a long swig from his drink, anxiously setting the can on the table just so before finally speaking. "I guess I'm worried about what he's going to say. I don't—I know he's mad that I never told him. That much is obvious, he's mad as hell. But I can't handle having him tell me he, I don't know, 'needs his space' or 'has to think things through'." He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and adding, "And I don't want to hear that he's disappointed or disgusted in me."
"Oh, honey." She shifts closer on the couch, wrapping an arm around him. "Stop being stupid."
Michael opens his eyes a slit, glancing to her. "You're not being comforting."
"Hey, if you want comfort, you can use my tits as pillows. Why the hell would Johnny be mad at you? Think about it—has he ever been mad at you for something that's not your fault? I mean, sure, he's going to want to know why the fuck you never told him," and so does she, for that matter, "but there's nothing to blame you for. He's fair—with you, I mean."
Michael shifts on the couch, resting his head on her chest. "Then why's he avoiding me?"
"He's not avoiding you. Johnny's just…" Nicoletta hesitates. "He doesn't want his anger to scare you, is all. I'm sure."
He twists his neck to eye her. "Well, he's kind of doing a shit job of it, isn't he?"
Nicoletta laughs. "Yeah."
"Maybe you're right and he's an idiot," Michael mutters. He turns back to watching the movie.
"You're not exactly bringing things up to him," she points out.
"Shut up," he protests. "I should get to sulk about things."
"I heard you've been sulking all week."
"Not to you."
"Oh, okay. Then you get five minutes of sulking and another hit before I ask more questions." She runs her nails through his hair, letting silence outside the movie fall over the room.
"You suck."
"Not for you, babe," Nicoletta reassures him.
Michael rolls his eyes, pulling away to reach for the vaporizer. He takes a long, careful hit before passing it on to her.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asks as he exhales.
"I didn't want to think about it," he says tonelessly. "Like if I didn't tell him, it couldn't affect things."
"Did anyway, didn't it?" she asks, and takes her own hit before turning the vaporizer off for the moment. It takes nearly no time to get back to temperature; when Michael's either told her more or come down a little, she'll turn it back on.
"Yeah," he sighs, and makes himself comfortable against her again. "There were…things it affected."
"So was it that it couldn't affect things, or that it wouldn't be real if you didn't say?" she presses.
Michael doesn't answer.
"He doesn't want to hurt you," Nicoletta quietly assures him. "Whatever you think right now, that's true. But because he didn't know…well, you can't say that knowing wouldn't have saved you both a problem or two in the past."
"Why do you have to be right?" Michael complains after a moment. He turns his head, pressing his face against her, and she wonders for a moment if he's trying to smother himself. It might work; she makes a mental note to mention that method of killing a man to David later, see what he thinks. But it turns out Michael was just muffling his voice, because he continues, "It wasn't real anymore. No one talked about it, except Charles asking once and that didn't even use his name, and Johnny didn't know. It never happened."
"Oh, sweetie."
"And now it did, because my brother is an asshole, and Johnny's mad and not talking to me."
"He's not mad," Nicoletta insists, holding Michael's gaze steady. "At least, not at you. He wants to rip the bastard's head off, sure, but--"
"Wouldn't mind if he did, no less than Aaron deserves," Michael mutters under his breath.
Noted. "He's Johnny, all right? He loves you and he wants to take care of you. If anything, the idiot's probably mad at himself for not seeing it sooner."
"Stop calling him an idiot," he insists. "He's not."
"He's sure as hell not being smart right now." She runs her fingers through his hair again, and it's a mark of how high Michael is that he doesn't protest at all. Either that, or he remembers that she doesn't give a fuck if he steals her hair products. "It's not like avoiding talking to you is the best way to deal with things."
"You said it. I could have said something."
"Yeah, so maybe you're both idiots. But he didn't know if you needed space or not, unless he asked, and I'm guessing he didn't."
"Well," he admits, absently tracing a pattern on her knee with his first two fingers, "no, he didn't. But I didn't say anything."
Nicoletta sighs. "Michael, he's not mad, he's not upset with you, he's just worried. I promise. He loves you and he hates to see you hurting." Guiding his chin until she can catch his eye, she adds, "He's not the only one."
"Your brother's going to be mad that you're hitting on me," he informs her with just a hint of joking. She'll take whatever she can get in that arena.
"Please, I could lure you away in a heartbeat, I don't care how gay you are." She grins at him. "But I won't because, one, you're too pretty to be my type, and two, you and my brother are much too perfect for anyone to interfere. I'll cut them if they try. And that includes either of you."
For a long moment, Michael simply stares at Nicoletta, brow furrowed. "Why do I get the feeling you're not joking?"
"Because I'm not," she happily answers.
Sighing, Michael sits up, resting his elbows on his knees while he drops his head into his hands. "I fucked up, didn't I? It's not that—I knew I should have told him, I did. But everything was going so well. At first, it was just this casual thing, and then it was too early to get into the serious stuff, then the timing never seemed right… eventually, it was just too late. I couldn't." He inhales deeply. "Charles never said anything, but I think he always wondered why I stayed. Why I let Aaron do those—those things. The look he'd get in his eyes, Nic. I didn't want to see that on Johnny's face, so I tried to avoid it. And instead, I fucked it all up."
"Michael. Sweetheart. Look at me." She waits until he does without moving his hands so that he's glancing through his fingers while his other hand supports his cheek. "You didn't fuck anything up. Not much, anyway. Nothing that can't be fixed. But you idiots have to talk to each other. Fuck, the main guy I'm seeing lives across the Atlantic and is married, and I still talk out this shit better than you two have been." He's looking more emo, so she runs her nails lightly down the back of his shirt. "But you can fix it no problem. And, I mean, you have reasons for not telling him. Pretty decent reasons, too. He's being a bigger idiot than you, and your brother's a dick. Look, before you go home, I'll make sure you're relaxed enough to talk to him, but you have to promise you will talk to him."
"You're holding the pot hostage?" he asks incredulously.
"If that's how you want to look at it." She grins. "So. Another hit?"
Michael manages a wavering smile. "Yeah, I'll promise. Now hand that over."
Nicoletta does just that, watching him inhale sharply before quietly adding, "I wish you had told me."
Michael exhales slowly, almost managing a smoke ring before answering. "If I couldn't tell Johnny, how could I tell you?"
"Because I'm not sleeping with you, sweetie. I love you, and you love me, but not the in-love kind of love. That's how." She runs her nails through her hair, destroying its careful sculpting to scratch her nails along his scalp. She watches him a moment before saying, "If you tell me now, it might be easier to tell him."
Silence. The silence envelops them both, stretching between them for three long minutes while Michael closes his eyes and exhales. But then, finally, he croaks out, "I met Aaron at a bar. He was sweet, charming, and attractive as hell. Plus, there was this whole air of mystery surrounding him, and I was hooked. It took me awhile to realize it, but I was immediately hooked. Next thing I knew, I was seeing him all the time and spending more nights at his place than mine. He just seemed so perfect, you know? But things changed fast."
Nicoletta lets him take another hit before reaching over and turning the vaporizer off. "More in a minute," she says at his look. "I don't want you so high you can't think at all before you go home."
"Oh." He finishes exhaling and turns so he can lean his head back on her chest. She plays with the top button on his shirt while she waits. "I moved in with him fast, within a month. He told me to break my lease, so I did. I guess—that meant I didn't have anywhere else to go. It was still good for a little while after that, something like a couple of weeks. Everything was consensual that long."
There's a flash of something indescribable in Nicoletta's expression.
Fiddling with the knee of his pants, Michael practically whispers, "It started with the yelling. Aaron was stressed, I told myself. He was under a lot of pressure at work and he didn't mean to let his temper get out of hand." He bites his lip and agonizes over his next words. "I don't even think he meant to do it the first time he smacked me. Even now, I think it was an accident. He felt terrible and I made excuses. I forgave him, even after the second and third times. Aaron was stressed and it was my fault for provoking him." Eyes watering, he locks his gaze with Nicoletta's as he breathes, "I really convinced myself of that. I-I can't stop from thinking that."
"Oh, Michael," she breathes, and kisses his forehead. "Sweetheart. It wasn't." She suspects if she pushes that right now, though, he's going to shy away from the whole subject.
"It was another…month and a half." Michael swallows. "I remember. I wasn't in the mood for sex, but he was. I told him no. He didn't…make me, that time, but he was so mad. I don't know why he was, we had sex all the time, but he kept yelling at me, and I was afraid. I tried to go in the bedroom, and he grabbed my arm. He was bigger than me by a lot, and a lot stronger, and when he grabbed, I couldn't get away. He threw me on the bed and pulled off his belt and…Nic, I tried to say no. I used my safeword." She wraps her arms around him, kissing his forehead, as his voice breaks. "He wouldn't stop."
Nicoletta continues to run her fingers through his hair, waiting patiently or him to speak.
"I probably should have—I didn't, though. I stayed. It was a long time before I dared to refuse him again." Michael chokes. "And when I did, he just forced me."
"Oh god," Nicoletta mutters as her hand stills.
"I guess I thought that if I could pretend that none of it happened, I would have to deal with any of it. That it'd go away." Coughing, he adds, "It'll never go away."
She's not remotely surprised by the dampness under his eyes, and she wipes it away with the pads of her thumbs. "No," she agrees quietly, "it won't, but you have us now, not him."
He gives her a watery smile. "Yeah. Unless I fucked things up with Johnny too much, anyway."
She pokes him in the ribs, making him jump away. "A, no you didn't, and b, even if you did, you'd have me. And c, no you didn't." She kisses his forehead lightly and leans just enough to turn the vaporizer back on. "I've seen your scars, sweetheart. Those aren't from a belt."
"No," he eventually gets out. "Not all of them." Leaning forward, Michael takes a deep hit, holding it until he doubles over coughing. When he can talk again, he mutters, "Sometimes he's burn me. Or use other things." Sitting up suddenly, he turns to face Nicoletta. "But you're not exactly the person I should be telling this to.
She hesitates. "No, not exactly. But I can be one of them."
Michael meets her eyes for a split second before glancing away. "So you don't…hate me or anything?"
"Michael!" she exclaims. "Michael. No, I don't." She rubs a hand up and down his back. "There is no way I could hate you, I promise. You're pretty much my favorite in-law and one of my favorite friends." She reaches to gently turn his jaw so their eyes meet. "And Johnny will not hate you, either."
"I almost believe you."
"You should," she stresses, reaching for the vaporizer. "Because everything I say is right and you know it. Now come here, have a few more hits, and then I'll take you back to Johnny and you can tell him all of this." Nicoletta softens. "And I promise, everything will work itself out."
"You're fantastic."
"I know."
While Michael gets himself higher than he's probably been since the first time he smoked—and quite likely higher than even then—Nicoletta finds him some snacks, a bag of chips and a couple of brownies left from the last time Stacey made them. Given the way they disappear, and the fact that Michael's starting to visibly loosen up, it's having a good effect.
"Do you have anything else?" he asks her after the last chip and another hit.
"I have a ride back to Johnny. How does that sound?"
"Not as good as brownies," he decides with no trace of irony. "But necessary, I think."
"You think right." Nicoletta rises to her feet, checking for her phone and wallet before making sure Michael has his. Looping her arm through his, she guides him off the couch and pulls him close. "You'll do fine. Now let's go."
"You're too good to me."
"You know it."
Michael stumbles the first couple of steps and laughs at himself; Nicoletta shakes her head and makes sure she has a decent grip. "You like my pot?" she asks.
"Your pot is the best pot."
"You see why I get white instead of green?" she asks, making a face. Green.
"Can I have more sometime?"
"If you're not working within a few days and Johnny's not going to be pissed at me," she promises, opening the door to the garage. "Come on, sweetie."
He leans against her heavily. "Thank you. I mean that, Nic. Thank you for everything. "
They make it to the car, climbing in gracelessly as she replies, "I'd do it all again. You're welcome. "
***
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Poor Michael. Fantastic job.
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Thank you!
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lol forever. Oh Nic.
This is great. Poor Michael. I'm glad he talked to Nic, and I really hope he talks to Johnny. Johnny will so be there for you, Michael!
Great job.
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He does talk to Johnny, thankfully. But, still, all the cuddles for him.
Thank you!
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THIS IS JUST CRAZY ENOUGH TO WORK AND DAMN DID IT EVER.
Nevermind that I love getting stoned stories. May have something to do with my inability to smoke any and then remember anything that happened post-whiff >_>. ANYWAY VICARIOUS YAYS WERE HAD. And for some reason, the coughing made it better. Because everybody does that XD.
And then you out Top Gun on, erm, top of it.
"I'm going to get you a drink," Nicoletta decides. "Watch the pretty boys." She gestures to the TV, where Top Gun is still playing, and stands.
"They are pretty," Michael calls after her. "Even if Tom Cruise is a dick." LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE
Michael and Nicoletta have a lot of great exchanges here, and with Michael going back and forth between whether or not Johnny's an idiot- it's just sublime. It's moving and funny and, even though I already said this tonight, very Corlioni.
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Tom Cruise is a dick, Michael's got his number. :p
It is indeed very Corlioni-- I think that's why I love it like I do.