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But Names Will Never Hurt Me - Misfits - Simon/Nathan - Words: 2,311
Written for brighteyed_jill's fandom-stocking.
Summary: Simon and Nathan hit a mishap during their first sexual encounter.
Content Notes: References to sexual child abuse. R
Author Notes: Takes place in mid season 2, sometime after season 2 episode 3.
On AO3: But Names Will Never Hurt Me
Simon didn't know how this had happened. He could recount the events that had led to him straddling Nathan with both of their trousers undone and Nathan's shirt bunched up around his armpits. He could list the time he'd caught Nathan looking at him, even before the tattoo had made Nathan realize his name wasn't 'Barry'. He could even count the times he'd watched Nathan, long before he was anything other than 'weird kid'. Of course he hadn't actually liked Nathan back then. He'd liked the way Nathan looked and he'd liked Nathan's confidence and how he didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of him. But he hadn't really liked Nathan until he realized that Nathan was just as brave as any of them. Braver even.
Even though he could give an hour by hour timeline, how they'd shared a kiss after the effects of the tattoo had worn off and how they'd started hanging near each other even when they didn't have to be at the community center, he still couldn't say how - or maybe why - they had wound up together like this. The kiss and the groping while Nathan was under the influence didn't count, according to Simon. Nathan said it did, but Simon wasn't willing to take advantage of Nathan and he wasn't going to let Nathan take advantage of him either. Simon resolutely didn't think about how he might have let Nathan kiss him a bit longer than was necessary before he pulled away.
There'd been pizza - Simon wasn't sure that Nathan actually ate anything but sweets and pizza - and beer. And then they'd been back, sitting with their legs hanging over the railing once again, and Nathan had kissed him and hadn't stopped.
Simon could feel that his arms were shaking with the effort of keeping him above Nathan. His attention was drawn a dozen different ways; his body demanding that he abandon any common sense what-so-ever and pay attention to the feel of Nathan's fingers on the bare skin of his thighs, his mind running a constant litany of thoughts about whether or not he should really be here with Nathan of all people and how this was going to turn out to be a casual fling for Nathan but mean something much more to him. He couldn't imagine that Nathan did anything but casual; he doubted that Nathan knew how.
Nathan's teeth nipped persistently at Simon's lower lip. Their kisses had been fast and messy and unfocused, interrupted by hands that roamed and their foreheads occasionally knocking together when they miscalculated how the other would move. Simon let his mouth open, his tongue curiously tracing Nathan's upper lip before Nathan once again took control of the kiss.
Simon pulled his face away, panting and shivering as he felt Nathan's hands slip into his underwear. Instinctively he tucked his chin down to his chest and fought the warring impulses to push into Nathan's hands and to pull away entirely. He'd kissed before, both girls and guys, and he'd touched a girl's breasts once, but he'd never have anyone put their hands on him or kiss him like it was something they just had to do. He wondered, just briefly, if this is what it had felt like when he'd touched Alisha's skin. He couldn't remember it, no one that touched her seemed to remember, but from what he'd witnessed it was an overwhelming need to touch and taste and hold. The overwhelming part was right on, at least.
"Come on, Barry, that's it," Nathan said. His hips jolted up, pressing against Simon's for a moment before he dropped back down to the mat.
Pressing himself down into Nathan's hand and resting more of his weight on Nathan's thighs, Simon lowered himself to his elbows and restarted the kiss that had started them in this direction. Maybe if Nathan's mouth was occupied with kissing him, he wouldn't call him Barry. Maybe it would be better if he just kept Nathan from talking at all.
Nathan's hand got lost between the two of them, tugging to get his own trousers further down and then using both hands to pull on Simon's. He made a muffled sound, but Simon didn't lift his lips away from Nathan's mouth. There was even more warm and bare skin between them now and Simon moaned as he felt Nathan's hand find him again.
A few minutes later, or perhaps an eternity, Simon shuddered and moved his mouth away from Nathan's in order to catch his breath. "Nathan, please. Almost." It was difficult to say anything, like everything had been scrambled and all he wanted to do was let the sensation go on forever.
Nathan just panted back, apparently at a loss for words.
It was enough of an aberration that it made it through to Simon's mind, which wasn't thinking much of anything at all anymore except 'yes' and 'please'. Simon thought that maybe they'd have to do this again if it got Nathan to shut up for once. These thoughts were obliterated from Simon's mind almost instantly and he moaned again. "Nathan. Nate," he said, the shortened name slipping out of his mouth before he even realized he'd spoken.
The sharp pain in his face registered only after Simon realized that he'd been dumped on the floor, the thin carpet doing nothing to shield him and scraped the skin on his elbow and side. Simon cupped one hand to his throbbing jaw and used the other to try and pull up his trousers. He'd been picked on enough to know that having your trousers down around your knees made it really easy to get the shit kicked out of you. "What the hell?" he managed to say, the words not coming out quite right.
He expected Nathan to still be coming at him, furious or vengeful or whatever the hell had happened to make him snap like that, but Nathan had his back pressed against the railing and his pants were still down around his thighs. It took a full minute before Simon decided that Nathan wasn't about to lunge at him or throw another punch. He did up his trousers and resettled his shirt, all the time watching Nathan and trying to figure out what had happened. Nathan hadn't said anything, didn't even seem to be aware that Simon was there or anything else.
"Nathan?" He moved a little closer even though it was a struggle to make himself. Walking towards the person that had just hit you had never happened in Simon's experience. He'd always been too focused on trying to get away to ever bother to look back to see what the person who had just hit him was doing. He stayed far enough back that Nathan would have to lunge at him in order to hit him again. It should have been surprising, how much force Nathan had struck him with, but Simon had seen enough people pick on scrawny kids to know that they were the ones who flailed with wild and strong fists when they were cornered.
Nathan's dark eyes didn't even flicker at Simon's question. He stared directly at the wall across from him. Nathan's hands were wrapped around the lowest bars of the railing, his knuckles white with the bones looking sharp through the skin. The knuckles on his right hand were slightly scrapped from where he'd struck Simon.
Simon pressed his tongue against the front of his mouth, not really surprised to taste the tang of blood where his teeth had cut into the soft, slick skin. He supposed it was a good thing he hadn't been trying to kiss Nathan at the moment; if Nathan had bit him with intent to cause harm he'd surely be bleeding a lot worse. He traced Nathan's gaze to the wall, making sure nothing was actually there because he'd learned that when you had superpowers pretty much anything was possible. It crossed his mind that maybe this was some kind of side-effect of their powers, but he couldn't see how resurrection and invisibility and skin contact could have done something.
Not their powers, Simon thought, suddenly realizing that he knew where he'd seen that blank stare before. When he'd stayed on the psych ward for a few days, long enough to get to see some of the people who were there for longer stays and reasons more serious than setting your neighbors house on fire - he generally left out the part about pissing through the mail slot, even when he was only thinking about it. But he'd seen that very blank stare in the hospital in people who would sit in chairs and look at the walls like they were seeing straight through them. The nurses would come and move the people from place to place, but never seemed to get any kind of meaningful response.
"Nathan?" Simon asked again, suddenly nervous. He'd broken Nathan somehow, and he had no idea how to put him back together. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response and Simon wondered if he was invisible. He'd taken to carrying a small pocket mirror with him so he could check when he wasn't certain. It had taken a lot of practice, and he still didn't have it completely under control, but he could usually use his power at will now. His mirror was with his jacket and his bag and everything else: in his locker. Not wanting to leave Nathan, Simon knelt on the soft mat and placed one of his hands carefully on Nathan's arm.
Nathan's head finally moved. He looked at Simon's hand like he'd never seen it before and followed the line of his arm up to his face. "Someone clocked you real good," he said, though his voice had lost its usual enthusiasm. He touched around where Simon's face was already swelling.
"You did," Simon said automatically. He didn't pull away from Nathan's exploratory touch. "You hit me."
Nathan nodded jerkily. He pulled his hand away and examined his reddened knuckles. "Looks that way. You called me Nate?"
It took Simon a moment to follow Nathan's train of thought. "Yeah, I did."
"Don't." Nathan used the railing to push himself to his feet. Standing only made the trembling in his body more obvious.
Simon stood up so that he wasn't at a disadvantage if Nathan went ballistic again. "Why not?" It was probably a stupid thing to ask when Nathan was leaning against the railing like he couldn't stand by himself, but he'd never seen Nathan like this before. He'd never seen something affect Nathan, even when they were surrounded by dead people and running for their lives. Sure, Nathan worried and panicked and did what he could to keep them alive, but none of it bothered him after the fact. Killing people - in self defense - and digging graves and washing away blood never seemed to give Nathan pause. But being called Nate did; it meant something.
Nathan licked his lips and one of his hands came up and made a fist in his hair.
"Nathan? Why not? Why don't you want me to call you Nate?" Simon pressed. He wasn't one for confrontations, not really. He was far more used to being ignored and letting people ignore him. But Nathan couldn't ignore him, not if they were going to kiss and touch each other and whatever else they were going to wind up doing. "Tell me or I'm leaving."
"Because one of my mother's boyfriends used to call me that when I was little." Nathan's voice was utterly inflectionless but his hand visibly tightened in the mess of his hair.
Simon could guess from there, could guess more than he wanted to, though he couldn't really fathom why Nathan constantly made jokes about sex and paedophiles if he'd been a victim. "What happened?" Simon watched as Nathan leaned more of his weight against the railing and turned his face away.
"It doesn't matter." Nathan shook his head "Nothing happened."
"How old were you?" Simon asked. He wasn't willing to let Nathan walk away from this like it was another one of his jokes. Everything was a joke to Nathan, but he wasn't going to let Nathan freak out on him without knowing at least something. Nathan was a puzzle to him, everyone was but Nathan even more so, and Simon needed to understand.
Nathan paused for such a long time that Simon didn't think he was going to get an answer. "I was six. I just remember him whispering 'Nate' right in my ear. I'm not Nate. That's not my name."
Simon swallowed and touched his aching cheek again. "Your mom didn't believe you?"
"She didn't know that 'Norman holds me on his lap' meant anything important." Nathan shrugged and turned back to Simon, his smile back in place even though it was like holding up a picture of a smile in front of his face. "I suppose you don't want to kiss me now?"
He didn't have to think of a response to that, even though his chest was tight and aching for Nathan. Simon stepped up to Nathan, half expecting to get punched again, and stood on his toes so that he could nearly reach Nathan's lips.
Nathan leaned his head down and touched his lips to Simon's. It was nothing like the kisses they'd shared before. "Just don't call me that again," he said, his breath hot on Simon's mouth.
"I won't," Simon promised easily. He couldn't imagine wanting and meaning to cause that reaction. He kissed Nathan again, trying to ignore the mean quiet voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that he'd seen and done more things that he couldn't have imagined seeing or doing in the past month than he'd previously thought possible.
Written for brighteyed_jill's fandom-stocking.
Summary: Simon and Nathan hit a mishap during their first sexual encounter.
Content Notes: References to sexual child abuse. R
Author Notes: Takes place in mid season 2, sometime after season 2 episode 3.
On AO3: But Names Will Never Hurt Me
Simon didn't know how this had happened. He could recount the events that had led to him straddling Nathan with both of their trousers undone and Nathan's shirt bunched up around his armpits. He could list the time he'd caught Nathan looking at him, even before the tattoo had made Nathan realize his name wasn't 'Barry'. He could even count the times he'd watched Nathan, long before he was anything other than 'weird kid'. Of course he hadn't actually liked Nathan back then. He'd liked the way Nathan looked and he'd liked Nathan's confidence and how he didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of him. But he hadn't really liked Nathan until he realized that Nathan was just as brave as any of them. Braver even.
Even though he could give an hour by hour timeline, how they'd shared a kiss after the effects of the tattoo had worn off and how they'd started hanging near each other even when they didn't have to be at the community center, he still couldn't say how - or maybe why - they had wound up together like this. The kiss and the groping while Nathan was under the influence didn't count, according to Simon. Nathan said it did, but Simon wasn't willing to take advantage of Nathan and he wasn't going to let Nathan take advantage of him either. Simon resolutely didn't think about how he might have let Nathan kiss him a bit longer than was necessary before he pulled away.
There'd been pizza - Simon wasn't sure that Nathan actually ate anything but sweets and pizza - and beer. And then they'd been back, sitting with their legs hanging over the railing once again, and Nathan had kissed him and hadn't stopped.
Simon could feel that his arms were shaking with the effort of keeping him above Nathan. His attention was drawn a dozen different ways; his body demanding that he abandon any common sense what-so-ever and pay attention to the feel of Nathan's fingers on the bare skin of his thighs, his mind running a constant litany of thoughts about whether or not he should really be here with Nathan of all people and how this was going to turn out to be a casual fling for Nathan but mean something much more to him. He couldn't imagine that Nathan did anything but casual; he doubted that Nathan knew how.
Nathan's teeth nipped persistently at Simon's lower lip. Their kisses had been fast and messy and unfocused, interrupted by hands that roamed and their foreheads occasionally knocking together when they miscalculated how the other would move. Simon let his mouth open, his tongue curiously tracing Nathan's upper lip before Nathan once again took control of the kiss.
Simon pulled his face away, panting and shivering as he felt Nathan's hands slip into his underwear. Instinctively he tucked his chin down to his chest and fought the warring impulses to push into Nathan's hands and to pull away entirely. He'd kissed before, both girls and guys, and he'd touched a girl's breasts once, but he'd never have anyone put their hands on him or kiss him like it was something they just had to do. He wondered, just briefly, if this is what it had felt like when he'd touched Alisha's skin. He couldn't remember it, no one that touched her seemed to remember, but from what he'd witnessed it was an overwhelming need to touch and taste and hold. The overwhelming part was right on, at least.
"Come on, Barry, that's it," Nathan said. His hips jolted up, pressing against Simon's for a moment before he dropped back down to the mat.
Pressing himself down into Nathan's hand and resting more of his weight on Nathan's thighs, Simon lowered himself to his elbows and restarted the kiss that had started them in this direction. Maybe if Nathan's mouth was occupied with kissing him, he wouldn't call him Barry. Maybe it would be better if he just kept Nathan from talking at all.
Nathan's hand got lost between the two of them, tugging to get his own trousers further down and then using both hands to pull on Simon's. He made a muffled sound, but Simon didn't lift his lips away from Nathan's mouth. There was even more warm and bare skin between them now and Simon moaned as he felt Nathan's hand find him again.
A few minutes later, or perhaps an eternity, Simon shuddered and moved his mouth away from Nathan's in order to catch his breath. "Nathan, please. Almost." It was difficult to say anything, like everything had been scrambled and all he wanted to do was let the sensation go on forever.
Nathan just panted back, apparently at a loss for words.
It was enough of an aberration that it made it through to Simon's mind, which wasn't thinking much of anything at all anymore except 'yes' and 'please'. Simon thought that maybe they'd have to do this again if it got Nathan to shut up for once. These thoughts were obliterated from Simon's mind almost instantly and he moaned again. "Nathan. Nate," he said, the shortened name slipping out of his mouth before he even realized he'd spoken.
The sharp pain in his face registered only after Simon realized that he'd been dumped on the floor, the thin carpet doing nothing to shield him and scraped the skin on his elbow and side. Simon cupped one hand to his throbbing jaw and used the other to try and pull up his trousers. He'd been picked on enough to know that having your trousers down around your knees made it really easy to get the shit kicked out of you. "What the hell?" he managed to say, the words not coming out quite right.
He expected Nathan to still be coming at him, furious or vengeful or whatever the hell had happened to make him snap like that, but Nathan had his back pressed against the railing and his pants were still down around his thighs. It took a full minute before Simon decided that Nathan wasn't about to lunge at him or throw another punch. He did up his trousers and resettled his shirt, all the time watching Nathan and trying to figure out what had happened. Nathan hadn't said anything, didn't even seem to be aware that Simon was there or anything else.
"Nathan?" He moved a little closer even though it was a struggle to make himself. Walking towards the person that had just hit you had never happened in Simon's experience. He'd always been too focused on trying to get away to ever bother to look back to see what the person who had just hit him was doing. He stayed far enough back that Nathan would have to lunge at him in order to hit him again. It should have been surprising, how much force Nathan had struck him with, but Simon had seen enough people pick on scrawny kids to know that they were the ones who flailed with wild and strong fists when they were cornered.
Nathan's dark eyes didn't even flicker at Simon's question. He stared directly at the wall across from him. Nathan's hands were wrapped around the lowest bars of the railing, his knuckles white with the bones looking sharp through the skin. The knuckles on his right hand were slightly scrapped from where he'd struck Simon.
Simon pressed his tongue against the front of his mouth, not really surprised to taste the tang of blood where his teeth had cut into the soft, slick skin. He supposed it was a good thing he hadn't been trying to kiss Nathan at the moment; if Nathan had bit him with intent to cause harm he'd surely be bleeding a lot worse. He traced Nathan's gaze to the wall, making sure nothing was actually there because he'd learned that when you had superpowers pretty much anything was possible. It crossed his mind that maybe this was some kind of side-effect of their powers, but he couldn't see how resurrection and invisibility and skin contact could have done something.
Not their powers, Simon thought, suddenly realizing that he knew where he'd seen that blank stare before. When he'd stayed on the psych ward for a few days, long enough to get to see some of the people who were there for longer stays and reasons more serious than setting your neighbors house on fire - he generally left out the part about pissing through the mail slot, even when he was only thinking about it. But he'd seen that very blank stare in the hospital in people who would sit in chairs and look at the walls like they were seeing straight through them. The nurses would come and move the people from place to place, but never seemed to get any kind of meaningful response.
"Nathan?" Simon asked again, suddenly nervous. He'd broken Nathan somehow, and he had no idea how to put him back together. "Can you hear me?"
There was no response and Simon wondered if he was invisible. He'd taken to carrying a small pocket mirror with him so he could check when he wasn't certain. It had taken a lot of practice, and he still didn't have it completely under control, but he could usually use his power at will now. His mirror was with his jacket and his bag and everything else: in his locker. Not wanting to leave Nathan, Simon knelt on the soft mat and placed one of his hands carefully on Nathan's arm.
Nathan's head finally moved. He looked at Simon's hand like he'd never seen it before and followed the line of his arm up to his face. "Someone clocked you real good," he said, though his voice had lost its usual enthusiasm. He touched around where Simon's face was already swelling.
"You did," Simon said automatically. He didn't pull away from Nathan's exploratory touch. "You hit me."
Nathan nodded jerkily. He pulled his hand away and examined his reddened knuckles. "Looks that way. You called me Nate?"
It took Simon a moment to follow Nathan's train of thought. "Yeah, I did."
"Don't." Nathan used the railing to push himself to his feet. Standing only made the trembling in his body more obvious.
Simon stood up so that he wasn't at a disadvantage if Nathan went ballistic again. "Why not?" It was probably a stupid thing to ask when Nathan was leaning against the railing like he couldn't stand by himself, but he'd never seen Nathan like this before. He'd never seen something affect Nathan, even when they were surrounded by dead people and running for their lives. Sure, Nathan worried and panicked and did what he could to keep them alive, but none of it bothered him after the fact. Killing people - in self defense - and digging graves and washing away blood never seemed to give Nathan pause. But being called Nate did; it meant something.
Nathan licked his lips and one of his hands came up and made a fist in his hair.
"Nathan? Why not? Why don't you want me to call you Nate?" Simon pressed. He wasn't one for confrontations, not really. He was far more used to being ignored and letting people ignore him. But Nathan couldn't ignore him, not if they were going to kiss and touch each other and whatever else they were going to wind up doing. "Tell me or I'm leaving."
"Because one of my mother's boyfriends used to call me that when I was little." Nathan's voice was utterly inflectionless but his hand visibly tightened in the mess of his hair.
Simon could guess from there, could guess more than he wanted to, though he couldn't really fathom why Nathan constantly made jokes about sex and paedophiles if he'd been a victim. "What happened?" Simon watched as Nathan leaned more of his weight against the railing and turned his face away.
"It doesn't matter." Nathan shook his head "Nothing happened."
"How old were you?" Simon asked. He wasn't willing to let Nathan walk away from this like it was another one of his jokes. Everything was a joke to Nathan, but he wasn't going to let Nathan freak out on him without knowing at least something. Nathan was a puzzle to him, everyone was but Nathan even more so, and Simon needed to understand.
Nathan paused for such a long time that Simon didn't think he was going to get an answer. "I was six. I just remember him whispering 'Nate' right in my ear. I'm not Nate. That's not my name."
Simon swallowed and touched his aching cheek again. "Your mom didn't believe you?"
"She didn't know that 'Norman holds me on his lap' meant anything important." Nathan shrugged and turned back to Simon, his smile back in place even though it was like holding up a picture of a smile in front of his face. "I suppose you don't want to kiss me now?"
He didn't have to think of a response to that, even though his chest was tight and aching for Nathan. Simon stepped up to Nathan, half expecting to get punched again, and stood on his toes so that he could nearly reach Nathan's lips.
Nathan leaned his head down and touched his lips to Simon's. It was nothing like the kisses they'd shared before. "Just don't call me that again," he said, his breath hot on Simon's mouth.
"I won't," Simon promised easily. He couldn't imagine wanting and meaning to cause that reaction. He kissed Nathan again, trying to ignore the mean quiet voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that he'd seen and done more things that he couldn't have imagined seeing or doing in the past month than he'd previously thought possible.
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