|In My Arms
Author: laffertyluver23 PM
Derrick and Neil try to move past the pain life has dealt. Implied slash.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Words: 1,685 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 09-10-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5367001
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: In My Arms
Pairing: Neil/Derrick implied
Summary: Neil and Derrick try to move past the pain life has dealt.
A/N: I realize I love crossovers. I also love Mysterious Skin and American History X. Neil and Derrick are both so complex and were begging to be written together, their problems in the same story. They need a great writer to do them justice, but I tried.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not American History X nor Mysterious Skin. The title is from the Jeff Buckley song with the same name, also not mine. (Jeff Buckley is and always will be one of the world's greatest artist)
It had been three weeks since I had held Brian in what use to be Coach's house.
The feelings of private joy and acceptance that name brought me died that night.
I had felt them oozing out of my body and mixing with the tears Brian had left on my skin.
I had thought I could fix him.
I guess I figured we were survivors and we would continue to move past Coach's twisted hold together.
Maybe I just needed to help Brian get better so I wouldn't hate myself so much.
Maybe I just needed Brian.
Fast forward a week to mom knocking on my door and shoving a postcard underneath it. I walked over to the door and picked up the postcard. There was no mailing address, or return address, or stamp.
I learned a few days later from Eric that Brian had left Kansas and went to some Shitville town in Arkansas to stay with some family.
Apparently he needed a "change of scene".
Fast forward to me in Shitville.
Shitville, CA not to be confused with Shitville, AR.
Brian was running from his problems and I was at a bar looking for my next trick.
I guess we hadn't escaped Coach just yet.
I had shaved my head right before coming to California in an attempt to reinvent myself.
I looked like a Nazi prick.
I also had big dark circles under each eye from lack of sleep. I looked like hell, and would be surprised if anyone would approach me.
Not more than thirty minutes later I could see a guy starring at me out the corner of my eye. Ten minutes later and he was still starring.
I turned my chair from the bar to get a better look at the stranger.
He was a good height, slight build. He was dressed in a white button down with a navy blue jacket over it.
His hair was thick and brown, and he had a matching thick, brown goatee.
I could tell from the number of drinks he had nursed, and the look in his eyes, I was being starred down by a broken man.
Maybe I reminded him of an ex-lover?
I could honestly give a shit. As long as he was paying, I'd be however the hell he wanted.
I downed the rest of my beer and walked over to my new fan.
"You've been watching me."
"I know." He wasn't trying to appear confident or seductive, he was simply being honest.
I liked him.
I continued to stand beside him, watching him watching me. When I grabbed his beer and took a swig he said nothing.
The more he remained silent the more I wanted him to speak.
Finally, "You remind me of someone."
"And who exactly do I remind you of, Derrick?" I drawled out his name in hopes to get at least a smirk out of him. Derrick just continued to stare at me.
Derrick drained the rest of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and got up to leave.
"Bye Neil." He said, brushing past me.
I couldn't let him leave just yet.
I followed Derrick to his car and when he unlocked it I let myself into the passenger seat.
He didn't protest.
We rode in silence.
Something in my brain told me Derrick wasn't going to be a trick.
So why the hell was I in the car?
I think it was the fact that he seemed worse off than me.
I had been through some pretty fucked up shit in the past few weeks, but I could sense Derrick had been through worse.
I wanted to help him.
I wanted him to be for me what Brian should have been.
We pulled up to a shitty one-story house surrounded by a fence.
Derrick walked up to the front door and let himself into the house.
I paused in the door frame.
The last time I had went back to someone's place I had been raped and almost beaten to death.
Something told me it would be okay, the same something that had said Derrick wouldn't be a trick.
I stepped inside.
The place was nicer on the inside.
Modest, but nice.
I walked over to the small fire place and lifted a picture from its mantel.
"Is this your brother?" I moved the picture towards Derrick so he could see it. The picture was of a boy that looked about sixteen with a shaved head. What looked like a younger Derrick, also with a shaved head, had his arm thrown around the boy, both of them smiling.
Derrick looked as if he had to think about the question for a minute. "Yeah."
"What's his name?"
"His name was Danny." I had seen that look before. It was the same expression Brian had worn as I began to tell him about what Coach had done that summer. That look like you're trying desperately to remember but you heart wants you to forget. That look that signaled an emotional breakdown was at the surface and might betray you at any moment.
"What happened to him?" I asked. I knew I was pushing it.
"I'd rather not talk."
Normally when a john said talking time was over, I took that as my cue to start taking my clothes off.
So I did.
Derrick is not a trick. Derrick is not a trick. Derrick is not a trick. Derrick is not a trick.
I stood naked, empty but familiar.
"I'm not going to fuck you." Derrick's voice was thick and like gravel.
I walked over to Derrick and placed a hand to his cheek.
His cheek was surprisingly soft and warm under my fingers.
Why was I shivering.
I removed his jacket cautiously.
My fingers worked the buttons of his shirt.
I could feel his breath puff against my forehead.
I didn't dare look into his eyes, I didn't want to know what they looked like now.
I removed the button down and let it fall to the floor by itself.
I reached just below his waistband to remove his white wife beater.
"Stop." He breathed against my forehead. His lips teased at my skin.
My hands continued to untuck his undershirt.
I could feel the soft hair on his stomach.
The hairs I knew if I traveled lowered would continue to coarsen.
Surprisingly I didn't harden at this thought.
I got the shirt up under his armpits when I stopped.
Derrick had long turned his head away from me, his silent protest against what I was doing.
His breath hitched.
What. The. Fuck.
A black swastika glared at me.
"What the fuck…?" I whispered.
I should have run then, gotten the hell away from this white trash skinhead that had probably lured me here to kill the fag.
But that "something" kept me calm.
Derrick was not a trick. Derrick was not a bigot.
Derrick was starting to tremble.
I tentatively placed my index finger to his tattoo. He flinched.
Instinctively my body wanted to recoil, but instead I flattened my palm to his heart, on the swastika.
Derrick let out a breath I hadn't known he was holding.
I don't know how long we stood there, Derrick with his shirt bunched up and puffing irregular breathes against my skin, me naked and with my hand on his chest.
After awhile I moved my hands to the middle of his back and rested my head against his shoulder.
It took Derrick a few minutes but he relaxed and let his arms loop around my waist, his head drooped forward, using my scalp for support.
Which was a stranger sight: Brian's head in my lap, or Derrick wrapped in my arms?
We stood entangled in one another.
Me supporting both of our pain.
Derrick begun to cry, not big obnoxious sobs, but little droplets into my hair.
"I'm so sorry."
"Please, please forgive me."
"Why God, after I changed."
Derrick's trembles turned into full blown shakes.
I wanted him to feel better.
I needed him to be better.
I needed to protect him like I should have with Brian.
"Shh, It's going to be okay Derrick." I said, patting his hair. "I Promise."
Derrick pulled back and looked at me. His red eyes were too tired to be angry, weighed down by grief and despair, but so full of trust, like he knew I was fucking serious.
This is what love feels like.
And I knew in that moment that I was telling the truth, everything would be okay.
"I promise I will be here." I attempted a smile in reassurance. My face refused to move.
Derrick placed his head back on mine and resumed his soft crying, while I rubbed small circles in his back. Later I would find out more on his past, what had hurt him so bad, maybe peel back some of my layers. But for now I would keep touching Derrick, letting him know I was here for him, I was not afraid of his darkness.
I would be what he wanted to be for Danny.
He could be my Brian.