Fic: Chasing Perfect
Title: Chasing Perfect Rating: R Pairing: Nny/Teatime Author's Note: Companion piece to fidrich's Nothing's Perfect
Ankh-Morpork confused Nny. But more than anything, Teatime confused Nny.
'Friends', he'd say happily, and smile, and sometimes squeeze Nny's hand as well. Was that what friendship was like? Was it because of friendship that he kept noticing what Teatime smelled like, wondered what those skilled fingers might...
But no. No, he wasn't... he was just shy with girls. So he'd picked Laura-from-downstairs to be shy with, not quite noticing that her hair was curly and blonde and (because of a rather unfortunate birthmark) usually combed over one eye. The trouble with that, of course, was that Laura wasn't shy, and he'd narrowly extricated himself from a situation where he might have done something to put their choice of bolthole in jeopardy before stomping in, slamming the door as the wind tried to rip it from his grasp.
"Why do you need another friend?" Teatime said, without even so much as a hello first.
Glancing up, Nny gave him a baffled look as he peeled off the scarf that protected him from the sleet and stench that were, as far as he could tell, Ankh-Morpork's defining characteristics. "What?"
"The girl downstairs. Why do you want to be friends with her? You already have a friend."
Her again. He could feel himself flush. "Oh. Laura. She's... she's nice." If that was the word. She'd cornered him at the foot of the stairs, offering to 'keep him warm', and that had been rather tricky to dodge.
"Yeah, but..." That brought uncomfortably to mind the idea of Teatime keeping him warm. But the next thing he said only made it worse.
"What can she do that I can't?"
"It's nothing." Really, that was mean. It was really mean. Didn't Teatime realize...
"Then you can say."
Not fair, damn it, and fuck if he wasn't prettier than Laura anyway... "It's - for God's sake, Teatime, can't you -"
"Can't I what? I don't see why you'd need another -"
Biting back a low cry of frustration, Nny gave up trying to put his tangled emotions into words, and stepped that little bit closer, forgetting caution long enough to kiss Teatime... it was a light kiss, but he was already bracing himself when he pulled back to gauge Teatime's expression. "That," he forced out. "That's why I want to..." But Teatime didn't seem angry, or shocked, or even (that Nny could see) surprised. "You don't seem very..."
"You - do you want to --" Kiss me. Touch me. Keep me warm.
"Of course I do," Teatime was smiling, and it was maddening. Nny couldn't stop staring at his mouth. "And I expect I'm much better than Miss Laura is."
Well, for one thing, I don't want to chop you into coleslaw when you touch me. "You really -"
And then Teatime kissed him, and Nny couldn't even try to think clearly, couldn't try to remind himself that he certainly didn't think of Teatime that way, not when he could smell him, could taste something vaguely oniony...stew?... on his breath, when they were holding each other close and stumbling and Nny barely noticed they'd fallen onto the bed before Teatime was leaning over him, undoing his fly.
"Wait, are you, what are you...?"
But Teatime didn't seem to be listening, and for the next few minutes all Nny could be aware of was Teatime's mouth, hot and wet and so very alive around him, and Teatime's strong fingers grasping his hips, holding him, containing him. He wasn't sure if he'd cried out or not when Teatime sat up. He made as if to stand, and Nny pulled him close again.
"C'mere." Kissing Teatime again, Nny could taste the faintly bitter saltiness on his tongue now, and realizing what it was made his head spin. He let his hands roam ineffectually, feeling clumsy and hopelessly awkward before getting up the nerve to work his hands under Teatime's waistband. And that must have been right, had to be right, because Teatime was kissing him harder, stroking his chest and back, encouraging him, and when his fingertips found Teatime hard and waiting and he softly asked, "Is this okay?" he clutched Nny's arms firmly and kissed Nny with a fervor that clearly said that this was not a time for speaking.
He couldn't have been too hopelessly inept; it wasn't so very long before Teatime shuddered, sighed, and relaxed in Nny's arms. Nny stared at him with faint wonder before daring to speak. "So, uh... what does this mean?"
"You're my friend," Teatime replied, sounding impossibly confident. "You don't need another friend."
Friend, is that what he calls this? And yet. Nny thought about it, about how frustrating the world was, how flawed... "Do you, um... do you think this is... perfect?"
"Nothing's perfect, Nny," Teatime mumbled, and Nny listened to his breathing deepen and slow; listened to him sleep.