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Rush and a Push

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A very unfortunate side-effect of having been in love with Simon is that, well, he fucking likes him. Nah, he’ll do one better—‘cause he can pretty much like anyone he wants to—Nathan cares. Sure, the love was pretty much a bleeding tattoo.

Not on his cock, thankfully, yeah. Thank whatever for that.

But (very) unfortunately, not the point.

Point being that he’s currently trying to boost the kid up onto a low, leaning roof of some building near the community center, and the kid weighs a fucking shitload. Why did he decide to help Simon out again? Kelly was probably home microwaving something disgusting, and he totally wants to eat it. Whatever it is. He usually eats with her Thursdays. And Sundays. And whenever he can’t get the vending machine to malfunction.

“Barry, I swear to fucking god I’m never gonna let you eat another bit of food,” and then when Simon’s foot slips a little bit on Nathan’s shoulder and jams into his neck, “Not a crumb! Porker!”

“Just hold on—sorry,” Simon grasps the ledge and pulls. Actually manages to haul his awkward little self up there.

“Ha! We did it!” Nathan laughs. Feels sort of accomplished, actually. “Hey, I can see up your skirt, mate.”

Simon frowns, and actually looks down at his pants for a second before smiling. Very slightly. Like a deranged penguin. Echoes back, “We did it.”

“Now what?”

“Now I jump back down.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I thought you lost a ball or your knickers up there or something.”

“I told you I wanted to try out some parkour skills I learned on the internet.”

Nathan fights off a strange feeling in his gut and free-associates instead. “You think if you ended up in a wheelchair we could park in those handicapper spots in front of the bar without getting a ticket?”

“Neither of us drive.”

“Schematics. Go ahead. Fall to your possible death,” he tries out a cheeky grin and generally means it. Simon’s not gonna do it, no way. “Unlike me, you can’t come back.”

“That’s helpful,” Simon actually has the balls to give some snark. It both annoys and fills him with pride, like his mum’s cat leaving dead birds at his bedroom door.

“Not tryin’ to be, weird kid,” he throws right back. “If you hadn’t noticed. Have I also mentioned that your little crush on the guy in the mask is absolutely darling?”

“You have. Twice.”

“Just so we’re clear, then.” And when Simon tenses his legs, preparing to jump— “Hey there! Hold on! Jesus!”

“What?”

He doesn’t even fucking know. “You think you could treat your helpful sidekick to some tacos if you don’t manage to break both your legs?”

“Okay,” Simon nods, face suddenly gravely serious as he contemplates the ground several meters below again.

“All right. Jump! Jump away! I promise not to catch you.”

And he completely has no intention to, but the bastard manages to slam into him anyway. Aims for the top of a dumpster, bounces off with a look of dumb surprise on his face, and promptly crushes Nathan to the floor.

“Barry! Fuck!” He’s pretty sure he’s fine, and it’s not like he could die anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to garner a little sympathy. “I can’t feel my legs! They hurt like a bitch!”

“Which is it?” Simon grumbles, fumbling around on top of Nathan until he manages to crouch next to him. There’s a big gash on Simon’s chin.

“There’s something stuck in my leg, man—” there totally isn’t, but the look Simon gets is absolutely priceless. “Fuck, get it out!”

“Where?” Simon asks immediately, hands hovering over Nathan’s legs.

“My inner thigh,” he’s almost laughing, but Simon doesn’t notice. “It burns.” And then when Simon tentatively checks, hands probing just centimeters from his cock, “Oh yeah. Just like that. Just like that. Just a little higher—”

Simon jerks back immediately, stands and crosses his arms. “You’re taking the piss.”

It’s kind of disappointing really. No big finish to speak of. And maybe he actually could have gone for a handjob, even— “No cheers-for-saving-my-life handjob, then?”

Simon just looks away, embarrassed and angry. End of road sort of thing. Boy failed at jumping off a building—or succeeded spectacularly, depending—Nathan should really show some sympathy. Stands with exaggerated effort and throws an arm around Simon’s shoulders.

“I wish you wouldn’t do things like that.”

“Yeah, well, right back at you, superhero,” Nathan says without thinking. Realizes it sounds like words of concern. “What would we do without ya?” Oh, shit. “Kelly certainly couldn’t handle the strain of feeding me all on her own. And who would be around make the rest of us feel normal by weird kid comparisons?”

Simon just smiles, and says “thanks.” What an asshole, really.

So yeah. Whatever. He cares.

Even worse, Nathan still fancies Simon’s cologne. Absolute bullshit, that fucking storm.