You Were My Favorite Mistake [Gentlemiss & CharlotteV]

It becomes a thing they do. Niko isn't really sure when he falls into the pattern of it all, but it's not like...boring. Some people, when they started fucking more than once or twice, got tired of it but...for Niko, it just gets better every time. He almost actually starts looking forward to school because that means, once it's out, he can go to Pearce's. School, Pearce, drugs, sex, food on occasion. Actually, usually food. Pearce made really good food.

It gets colder the deeper into December they travel, enough so that Niko starts really, really not wanting to go home at night. He always does though. He's not really sure why. It just always seems like staying over would cause...problems. Make things complicated. He doesn't like complicated.

The further into December also meant Christmas, which hadn't even really registered on Niko's calendar of events until Pearce mentioned leaving. For a whole week. Because he had a family and shit. And Niko had never really been more disappointed in his life. A whole week without Pearce was the most he'd gone without seeing him since they'd started sleeping together.

He tries not to think about it a lot, honestly.

But he has one more day before Pearce disappears, so he drags his ass out of bed eventually and travels across town. He doesn't even knock anymore, just lets himself into Pearce's apartment, swiping his beanie off his head. "Fucking cold outside," he complains, pulling off layers of clothes - beanie, scarf, jacket, hoodie, shoes, two pairs of socks.

He was wrapping himself around Pearce once the door was shut, shivering even though the apartment was much warmer than what he'd just walked out of. "Fucking hell, you're like a space heater. Why are you so warm? Don't leave. Just...stand here and keep me from getting hypothermia."

For a moment it's...nice. Being pressed up against Pearce, hands rubbing down his arms, and he feels warm and safe and secure and wanted and holy fuck was that dangerous territory. When did his not-after-sex thoughts start turning out like this? He's almost grateful when Pearce is the one to step away, even if it leaves him cold.

"Grilled cheese, duh," Niko answers as he turns himself around, straddles the kitchen chair he'd claimed as his from the first time he'd walked into the apartment. He's appreciating Pearce's aesthetics when something catching his attention out of the corner of his eye. His name. Actually spelt correctly (people usually tried to spell it with a ]c) on a card.

He arches an eyebrow as he reaches for it, twisting it around in his hands for a moment. "Maybe," he says distractedly when Pearce offers taking him home, and just as he's about to ask Pearce is telling him that yes, the card with his name on it is obviously his. More importantly, perhaps, is the Jack.

He's silent for a moment, gaze shifting between the two, while he debates. On one hand: curiosity; on the other: alcohol. Eventually the Jack wins, because Pearce's choose wisely had obviously insinuated the right answer. So he tosses the card onto his pile of discarded clothing and twists open the bottle. Who cared if it wasn't even noon yet.

"Wish you didn't have to go," Niko mutters, and it sounds so damn clingy he actually winces, thanks God that Pearce isn't looking at him. "I have a whole week off school that we could have spent sky high and fucking, but nooo."

Watching Pearce cook is always a riot, because the man literally cannot handle it. Niko's not even sure he's washed his hands as much as Pearce does when he cooks in his entire lifetime. So yeah, Niko see's him with that fucking better, resists the urge to snicker at him.

The comment about their missing week causes Niko to gasp over dramatically, fall back in his chair like he was literally wounded or something. "Oh, ouch, you almost hurt the feelings I don't have." He chuckles at that, takes a drink out of the bottle in his hands. It wasn't like Niko had ever been under the illusion that Pearce was only fucking him...even if they did spend a hell of a lot of time together, there were eight hours in the day Pearce could be doing whatever the fuck he wanted. Or whoever.

"Alcohol before noon means you plan on drinking all day," Niko states as he sits up, grabbing his sandwich happily. Despite his hate of messes, Pearce made the perfect grilled cheeses. All drippy and amazing and perfectly toasted. Goddamn. "Can't do that if you don't start in the morning."

They actually spend most of the day fucking. It's probably the absolute most sober Niko has ever been during sex, because he only drank enough to wash down his food and then they were going at it.

Afterwards they'd lay around for awhile, one of them always half on top of the other. Niko's favorite spot happened to be over Pearce, arms folded across his chest, feeling fingers stroke down his spine while they talked.

And it never mattered what they talked about. Most of the time it was stupid shit, but who cared. Even if they were sober they were still mostly orgasm high and that counted for something.

Niko tried to convince Pearce into letting him have one joint, but the look on the mans face eventually brought him to settling for a cigarette or two. Then at some point he's laying across the futon alone, watching Pearce get ready, before he eventually makes peace with the fact that he has to go home.

It doesn't feel right, and because he might be a little clingy he gets Pearce to take him. Well, not quite, but at least a few blocks away.

***

Christmas Eve Niko gets woken up by a pounding on his door, and after dragging himself out of bed glares down at Cassie who hasn't even run a brush through her hair yet so he's expecting some kind of fire. Instead, he hears voices downstiars. Very official voices.

Little Alice gets adopted within a couple of hours, and he's not surprised. The new parents are young, and the kid is obviously a Christmas Present, but Niko shuts down his instincts not to pop off about that because they seem nice.

Alice cries for her daddy the whole time. The man tells her he's going to be her new daddy, and now she'll have a mommy too, and they'll buy her lots of pretty things. She stops crying after that.

Niko is not jealous.

He spends the rest of the day downtown, in some house that was probably pretty damn nice back in the day, but now the stairs are a little questionable and the wallpaper is covered in graffiti. There's only one couch and too many people like him that don't have family to spend the holidays with. And it's fucking depressing is what it is.

Somehow the smoke and the other bodies and the music doesn't quite cut it for him. He drinks two beers, pours half of one out because it tastes like shit, and stares at the lights on the stereo like they might get him high alone.

Eventually he pulls out twenty bucks, buys something that makes him fucking nauseous but also feel like he's floating a little. There's a guy in a black tanktop with shoulder length hair and blue eyes that Niko thinks he could get lost in for a little while.

Turns out, his skin crawls when the guy fucking touches him. He tries to get over it, tries to drink more when his shirt gets pulled off, but it doesn't work. He hates it. And eventually he pushes the idiot off, stumbles home.

He spends the night curled up around the toilet, throwing up whatever he took and however much he drank. And then he sits in the shower until the water goes cold. Thanks about how fucking screwed he is.

Because somewhere along the line, he got addicted to fucking Pearce Nathans. And he had a feeling it wasn't even all about the sex.

Niko wakes up way too fucking early Christmas morning to a room full of kids on his bedroom floor. He arches an eyebrow, debates pulling his pillow over his head and shutting it all out, until he realizes what they're doing.

Sharing Christmas presents. None of them are good, of course. School projects mostly, a couple of things from the Walmart checkout aisle, some shiny penny's. They're whispering amongst themselves, trying to be quiet, and Niko thinks somewhere the heart he tries to pretend doesn't exist is a little warmed at the image.

When he finally pushes himself out of bed little Victor presses a piece of bubble gum into his hand, and he ruffles the kids hair before reaching for the bottle of Jack in his dresser drawers. Which is when he sees the unopened envelope with his name on it, in Pearce's messy cursive.

He arches an eyebrow as he pulls it down, rips through the paper and snorts out loud at the cover. Of course Pearce would pick a I saw daddy kissing Santa Clause card. Ridiculous. There's no note inside, no caring sentiment, but there is two hundred dollars.

Part of him wants to be angry. Remind Pearce he isn't a fucking charity case and doesn't need his money. But it's Christmas...and the first present he's gotten in three years. So he sucks it up, gets dressed, and shoves the money into his pocket.

"Get up," he tells the kids. "We're going out."

There's a family owned ice cream shop downtown that's opened on Christmas day, and enough buses running that he can drag five kids across the city. The twins throw snow at each other, Victor hides behind his legs, and Toby and Cassie fight like cats and dogs the whole way, but in the end they all sit in a booth and eat their fucking ice cream through shivers that they chase down with small hot chocolates for $20.

He spends the time leaning back in his seat, pretending he didn't just take a bunch of orphans out for the sake of a holiday, drinking his own hot chocolate and glaring at any of the kids who looked like they might ask for more.

When they finish he sends them back home under Cassie's care, and then takes a bus to St. Joseph Cathedral. He's halfway through the service when he gets a text from Pearce. And then it's incredibly hard to focus after that.

He doesn't even stick around for food when it's over (though he does stop by and say hi to Sister Judith before he takes off, because he's a decent person) and then he's at Pearce's place by one. It's a little pathetic, maybe, but he doesn't even care.

He doesn't knock, either. He knows where the key is. So he lets himself in, closes the door with his foot, and shakes snow off his clothes as he pulls apart the layers. "What happened?" he asks as he takes his shoes to the closet. "Storm too bad?"

"Mm, I seem to remember someone mentioning they might not be interested in a week of sex and drugs with me," Niko murmurs thoughtfully, smirk on his face as he tries not to make a complete mess of all his shit. There's snow on the ground he can't do anything about though.

He pulls his socks off when Pearce lifts the covers up, makes his way over and nuzzles up close without anymore hesitation. He presses his face right into Pearce's skin, soaks up warmth like he's never had it before. He'd been so cold out there he hadn't actually felt it until he wasn't anymore.

After a moment he sighs thoughtfully, keeps his face buried when he mutters, "Thanks for my Christmas present. Or whatever." It feels weird not to be yelling about it...but the alcohol was good, money was great, and holiday spirit and whatnot.

Niko himself had spent most of the morning thinking about what to get Pearce in return. He'd never done much gift giving over his years, but it was easy when he had. He didn't know people who had things. Even a fucking candy bar was a legit present. But what did you get for the man who literally had everything?

As it turned out, Niko was pretty sure he had an idea that would be beneficial to them both, but it feels like a weird subject to talk about sober, so he files it away. Once he's warm enough he squirms back just a little to give them both a bit of room, draws his finger tips down Pearce's side.

He's glad he's back. This is a lot better than what he would be doing.

Niko wonders if he'll ever get used to the feeling of Pearce's hands on him. It's just...weird, to willingly be touching someone...to willingly let them touch him. Not when he's sober. Not when it isn't immediately related to sex. It's just...touch.

He likes it.

Niko snorts and bats the hand off his forehead, rolling his eyes fondly. "Yeah, asshole, I should be yelling, but it's a fucking Christmas gift so whatever." He didn't need any money...but it was kind of nice knowing there was two hundred (okay, one eighty) dollars in his wallet that he could spend on whatever he wanted. No regrets. Just his.

There are warm hands under his shirt and just when he thinks he can relax into them, nails touch his skin, and he bites slightly on his lower lip to keep from gasping outloud because no way is he that horny. He literally saw Pearce two days ago.

Two days was also a really, really long time. And he's a fucking teenager.

"Drugs," Niko answers without hesitation. "Preferably weed." No need to hit the hard stuff. He had things he wanted to talk about, so he needed just enough to chill him out. Still, it kind of sucks when Pearce has to get out of bed to get a joint and a lighter, but he's happy when he gets it in his hand.

They smoke through half of it before Niko wraps his hand around Pearce's wist and pulls the joint out of the way, leaning in for a kiss. It's slow and dirty but then they're falling into the routine of it all and Niko just wants more before he remembers.

When he pulls away he steals the joint from Pearce, takes another long drag and lets it all out in one breath. "I want you to hold me down," he admits finally. Niko licks his lips slowly, takes another hit to gather a bit more courage. He had to use his words, or he didn't deserve getting it. "That thing you like...that control thing...I wanna do that."

Pearce is so quiet afterwords that Niko's almost afraid he did something wrong. Stepped over some line he hadn't known was there...pushed the limits too far. He's not even sure what exactly just...that maybe it wasn't right. Maybe he'd read the situation wrong, when Pearce had mentioned...but surely not.

Then again, Niko's sexual experiences ranged from teenage experimentation to wasted, he didn't really have a lot to base his assumptions off of.

Then Pearce says okay and Niko lets out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, but he scowls when the joint is taken. Granted, it's almost gone, but no need to put it out. Then Pearce is kissing him and Niko honestly can't remember he ever had a joint or the desire to smoke it.

Things are already different. It's just a little, but Pearce has taken a certain control over things that he hadn't before...a simple kind of authority. Direction. He decides the way they kiss with his position, decides the way he touches, and everything's a little rougher, a little less asking, and Niko loves it. He loves being manhandled until Pearce gets what he wants, loves fingers digging into his skin, wants more...so much more, but he's a little too nervous to ask.

His wrists get pinned down into the futon above his head and Niko groans without Pearce even being in him yet, fuck. He nods at the question, licks his lips and says yes when he remembers to use his words. Because this is important...he knows that, on some level.

He also knows he really, really wants this...but that doesn't stop his heart from beating a little faster, or keep him from tugging experimentally at the hold Pearce has on his wrists. When he can't get them free easily it both scares the shit out of him and makes his stomach flip, sending all the blood in his body more decidedly towards his center.

Niko was a fairly light sleeper, always had been unless he was on something. He wasn't sure why, his body just always seemed...wound up and ready to go. Like for some reason he'd need to jump out of bed and hit the ground running. But he was fucking tired, so when he feels the bed move underneath him, he ignores it. Whatever it is, it isn't nearly as important as sleep.

However, the fingertips running against his side eventually stir him enough he blinks away, slowly, taking in his surroundings. It takes longer than he's proud of to realize he's not in his bed, his room, or even his house. He's laying against a futon, in Pearce's apartment, and when the hell did that happen?

Niko's body aches. His shoulders are so sore it feels like someone is holding him down, and there's a spot on one of them that has this little throb to it. His wrists kind of throb too, actually. Not to mention his lower back. He groans heavily as he curls in on himself. But despite it all...it's not a bad feeling. It's the feeling of being well used. And Niko kind of fucking likes that a lot.

Pearce close to him, so after a moment Niko crawls over a bit and presses his face into the bare skin of the man's chest, his sore muscles relaxing again as he sighs. "Did I sleep over?" he finally asks. "Or get so high that I don't remember coming over?" He figured it was the former. Which was probably not a good thing.

Pearce's hand through his hair feels good in a soothing kind of way, in a way that makes Niko want to tilt his head into the touch and just...relax. The fact that he slept over bothers him...because Niko kind of has a rule about that. It was one thing to pass out at a party, wake up tangled in limbs, it was a completely different thing to wake up like he belonged there.

And thats how it felt. It felt like belonging. The way his entire body reacts to Pearce's hand traveling down it feels almost...right. Like waking up to each other was completely normal. He wants to just burrow closer, nuzzle his face into the man's neck, ask him just to hold him for a little while.

But that feels much too fucking intimate, so instead he finally gives a little nod. "I could eat," he answers, lifting up a hand to rub at his eyes. "Not sure I can move."

He decides not to let the sleepover bother him. Pearce wasn't kicking him out, or making a big deal about it, so...Niko couldn't have screwed something up. He didn't overstep any boundary or make things complicated. And, really, if he just stayed there it would make their week worth of sex and drugs so much easier.