I was debating whether to post this or not... but eh, what the hell. I can not write naughty things. *sigh*

Everyday Annoyances

Ellis bangs in the front door and into the apartment, louder than usual, sloughing off his back pack which rattles and clanks on the floor, the mechanic's tools in it thumping around against the tile floor of the entrance.

"M'back!" He hollers loudly. Upon receiving no response, he stops and listens, and hears the gentle sound of water rushing, a shower going. With his roommate occupied, Ellis wanders into the kitchen and locates the pizza from the night before in the fridge. He grabs a slice and doesn't bother warming it up. Instead, he heads over to the bathroom door, leans his back against it and slides to the floor. He raps his knuckles against it twice.

"What?!" Nick shouts back.

"Work was annoying today." Ellis calls back. It's a mark of how far they've come that Nick doesn't tell him to shut the hell up, he's in the shower, so why the fuck is he telling him this now?

"Why?" The other man asks. He sounds a bit more resigned than curious, but, you know, he asked…

"Well, it wasn't so much work as this one guy I work with." Ellis says, inspecting the slice of pizza and trying to decide the best angle to consume it from. There's a bubble on one side, and he hates those things, 'cuz it's really just a bread-flavored pocket of air, when it comes right down to it and—

"Ellis?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Ellis decides to just go for it, and bites the bubble off first. There, now he won't have to deal with it later. "So this guy, he just got a new girlfriend, right? And normally, he's a pretty cool guy and all. I mean, I like him. But suddenly, he gets this girlfriend, and man, he like, turned into an idiot or somethin', I don't know."

He shakes his head and takes another bite of pizza.

"He says all this lovey-dovey shit all the time, like he's always sayin' how he can't stop thinkin' about her, which I guess is nice and all," Chew, chew, swallow, "but does he have to tell the rest of us about it? I mean, it was fine for the first couple days, but after awhile, I expected him to start spoutin' poetry or some shit—an' I mean, don't you think that's kinda annoying?"

The shower turns off. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like, I don't know. It just seems weird to me. I mean, romance is nice and all, but wouldn't you just get sick of it if it was that, like, everyday? I mean, we're not like that with each other, and I think I like that better."

The door opens, a cloud of steam billows out, and Ellis jumps to his feet to get out of the way. He turns to face the door, and stops.

"I don't know, Ellis," Nick says, sweeping his wet hair back with one hand, and from there Ellis's eyes just travel south, following the steady trickle of water as it runs down Nick's neck, over the hollow in his throat and then continues over his naked torso—the man is only wearing a towel, holding it up and closed with one hand, hung low, low, low on his hips. His skin is a little flushed from the hot water and—and oh man, Ellis can feel himself getting hard.

"Uh." He manages to get out, and that's about it.

"I think we're a little bit like that." Nick continues, taking a step forward. "For example: there are times when I can't stop thinking about you."

Ellis has no idea what to say to this (or what to say at all, right now, truthfully). "R-really?" Instead, he just watches the other man get closer and swallows. Nick nods.

"Oh, yeah." He pauses, and they're almost touching, and wait, Ellis thinks, breathing, breathing is a good thing. Nick leans forward, lips quirking just the tiniest bit, and says in his ear, in that voice—"Although I guess it's more accurate to say I can't stop thinking about the things I'm going to do to you. When you get home."

Ellis throws the pizza. He doesn't know where it lands, and he just hopes fleetingly that it wasn't on the couch, because Nick will kill him. But only after they're done, and so that's okay. Because Nick is pressed up against him, slowly pushing up his steadily dampening t-shirt, one hot, wet hand sliding against his stomach, up his chest; the other hand is tangling in the hair at the back of his head, and his mouth has easy access to Ellis's collarbone, his throat, the side of his neck—

And, well, what? Nick only has two hands.

The towel drops.

***