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Now

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Added to the Roswell Slash Archive October 24, 2001

Title: "Now"
Author/pseudonym: Lucy
Fandom: The Forsaken
Pairing: Sean/Nick.
Rating: NC-17.
Status: New, complete.
Archive: No.
E-mail address for feedback: lucy_fur1@yahoo.ca
Series/Sequel: Sequel to "Testing."
Other website: http://members.tripod.ca/~angelspace/Lucy.html
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Out of the hospital, and things have changed.
Warnings: Not beta'd. Just another little ficlet written in the lj to pass the time. Sequel to Testing, originally supposed to be a part of that story, but I needed time - and a tragedy - to spur me to write.



6.34am:

        There were two beds.

        Sean opened the motel room door and almost laughed, but didn't, because Nick didn't even react. He looked the same as he had since they'd left the hospital - shell-shocked, sort of pulled in on himself. Getting him to move - to put one foot in front of the other - was something of a miracle. Of course, it wasn't surprising, and Sean couldn't blame him; after all, his entire world had changed in the course of one night. He knew _everything_ there was to know about that happening, about how it made everything feel and seem utterly different, somehow.

        He touched Nick's elbow, used that touch to propel him forward, sit him down on the edge of one of the beds, then dragged in the bags from the car, closed the blinds at the window, locked the door. Nick was still sitting.

        He sat opposite, on the other bed. "You're alive," he said.

        Nick nodded. His head bent down, a little.

        Sean frowned and reached across the space between the beds, frustrated when he realized he was too far away to touch Nick's face. He kneeled on the floor, then, and tipped up Nick's chin, unsurprised when he felt tears on his fingertips.

        Nick squeezed his eyes shut tight, like he could just will them to stop. Sean's fingers drifted up, tracing the tracks of his tears to the source, trying to heal them, maybe. Then, without warning, he pushed up and kissed Nick, hard and fierce, pushing him over on the bed.

        "You're alive," he said again, when he wanted - needed - to breathe again. His shoulder was killing him - his entire _body_ was killing him - but he didn't want to get up, in case Nick just disappeared, or something.

        Nick let out a shaky half-laugh. "Yeah," he agreed.

        "You're okay."

        Nick nodded.

        "I love you."

        Nick sucked in a breath. That was new - something that they'd never mentioned before, in all this time. There had been touching and fucking and comfort and need, but never love - at least not out _loud_, like saying it would break something, or make a promise that couldn't be kept.

        Sean wanted to pull those words back into his mouth, swallow them down. They'd been inside for a long time, and he felt the hollow place inside created by finally letting them go free.

        "Okay," Nick said, finally.

        It was Sean's turn to laugh. "Okay?" he asked.

        Nick nodded, smiling. "Yeah."

        "Has anyone ever told you you're an incurable romantic?"

        "Nope."

        "You ever think there might be a _reason_ for that?" Sean poked him in the chest, and Nick laughed again, then winced.

        "Ow."

        Sean tried to pull away, alarmed that he was hurting Nick. They were both hurt - he felt like a cartoon character, one who had been run over a couple of times with a steam roller and somehow popped back to 3-D life. Nick's hands wouldn't let him go, though, and the warmth of those hands was something like a balm on Sean's battered skin.

        They just lay there, for a while, Nick on his back and Sean half beside him, half on top of him, gingerly resting his injured shoulder on Nick's chest. Nick carded his fingers rhythmically through Sean's hair, and they didn't speak.

        He could have gone to sleep right there, in his dirty, ripped and tattered clothes, spread the wrong way across the bed with his feet dangling off the side. It would have been okay, but it wasn't quite enough. He needed - wanted - more.

        He tried to pull himself up but his shoulder wouldn't let him. Nick completed the movement for him by sitting up himself, and Sean smiled and started unbuttoning Nick's shirt.

        Nick just raised an eyebrow.

        Sean ignored him. There were buttons missing on Nick's shirt, which made things easier - not that it would be particularly _easy_ to seduce the guy with only one good arm. Still, he was willing to give it his best effort.

        Thankfully, Nick helped with that, too, undressing himself and Sean and pulling back the blankets on the bed. "Lie back," he said, so Sean could lie down and take some of the pressure off his shoulder. Nick took the pillows off the extra bed and propped them up underneath Sean's wounded arm. "Better?"

        "Almost," Sean said, and grabbed Nick, pulling him down. When they were tangled together - Nick half on top of Sean this time, one thigh pressed in between his legs and trying to catch most of his weight on one arm - he said, "Much."

        It was a little awkward, a little new, certainly much less athletic than they'd become used to, when sex was used to exhaust themselves, or re-affirm something nearly lost. They ended up touching each other with their hands, mostly, and giving deep, lazy kisses and Sean actually yawned halfway through, giggly and apologetic when Nick snorted with laughter even while pretending to be deeply wounded.

        Still, they came, almost together, and Nick cleaned them both up, knowing a shower would wait for morning - or afternoon or evening, rather, since it was already morning. Sean was almost asleep when Nick came back and arranged himself carefully in the bed, on his side, and pushed some hair off Sean's forehead.

        Sean cracked one eye open, frowning a little. "Okay?" he asked.

        Nick smiled, kissed him, and breathed against his wet lips. "Okay," he repeated, and Sean knew - exactly - what he meant.

        End

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