Clerks AU

The phone was ringing. A phone, somewhere, was ringing, had been ringing for a long time, and Nick wanted it to stop. Right now. That sound needed to stop. He reached for the noise blindly, arm heavy, and ended up with the reciever in his hand somehow. He held it to his head automatically, and tried to go back to sleep.

"Nick. Nick, I know you're there." Lance's voice was deep and quick with impatience. "Get the fuck up, man, I need you at the comic store today. Nick! Don't you go back to sleep."

"It's my day off," Nick mumbled into the phone and as far as he was concerned, that was the end of the conversation. Finis. There's nothing to be said after "it's my day off" that has any relevance whatsoever. Well, maybe one or two things, but Nick couldn't think of them right then. He curled up with the receiver and closed his eyes.

"I don't care, you said you'd work extra shifts this week." Lance's tone got shade louder, a shade firmer. "Wake up, get up, get in here. That fucking convention's in town, it's going to be a madhouse in there and Justin's sick. He puked on the phone with me. Nick, are you listening to me?" There was a loud bang, like Lance hit something with the phone. "I need you at the store in half an hour!"

Nick groaned and contemplated making vomit noises into the phone to get out of working, like Justin had, but it was probably too late now. "All right. Fuck. Fine," he said, slamming the phone against the pillow a couple times. "But just until someone else can get there. It's my day off!"

"I'm calling Howie," Lance promised, already calmer. "And if he can't come in I'll be there by one, I swear. You won't be there past lunch. You're a good man, Carter. Now, get up, go get dressed. I'm calling you back in ten to be sure you're on your way!" There was a click, and Nick was left listening to a dial tone.

He groaned and faceplanted into the pillow for a long time, only lifting his head again when the voice of the operator asking him to hang up the phone over and over again got the best of him. The dent in his forehead from the receiver felt somewhat permanent, and he groped for his glasses so he could see just how wretched and hungover he looked.

He rolled out of bed, staggered into the bathroom and stuck his whole head under the cold water tap, glasses and all. Ten seconds later, gasping and shivering and shockingly awake, he scrambled back to the bedroom. One pair of jeans that couldn't yet stand on their own, a t-shirt that had only been worn once--he was pretty sure--and actual clean socks, and he was ready to go. He grabbed a pop tart on his way out to the car, and ate it cold, shuddering at the taste but needing something to fight the acid in his stomach. At least it wasn't raining.

He hated opening up on a good day. He hated opening up on his day off even more. And he really, really hated getting raspberry pop-tart filling on his Pac-man T-shirt. He sucked the stain off as best he could as he pulled into the lot at Mick's Coffee-2-Go, but there was still a pink blotch on his shirt, and why did raspberry have to be pink, anyway?

"What?" Someone snapped as he pushed through the door, jingling the bell. "Oh, it's you," AJ said with less hostility, more boredom, as Nick headed straight for the coffee pot without giving him a glance. He was propped up behind the counter reading a porno mag, and humming appreciatively. Nick winced, and added more cream to his coffee. "Oh, by the way, your partner in crime's over at the video store already," AJ added, not looking up. "Freaky little fucker, he took all the Gatorade and said you weren't working today. You gotta pay for that, Carter."

"How about I don't and I give you first crack at the new magazines before I shelve them," said Nick, taking a sip and cringing at the taste, still. "What, has this been here all night? Jesus, McLean, warn a guy. Fuck. I'm not even supposed to be working today."

"Poor baby. It's fresh, but I maybe added too much coffee," AJ answered disinterestedly, glancing up at him. "And you still gotta pay for that, you're not getting anything new over there for another two weeks. You think I don't know the schedule?" He tapped the counter meaningfully. "Buck fifty, settle up, you cheap fucker. And send all those comic dorks over here after they quit whacking off over the chicks in spandex, I'll make a killing on twinkies and Jolt."

"Fuck you," said Nick, and fished out a dollar. "And I get refills with that. I can't believe this day already. Look at this--" He pointed to his foreahead. "And this--" He picked at the pink stain on his shirt. "I should go back to bed, and screw Lance and and screw the comic store."

"Yeah right, like you'd have the balls to screw anything," AJ rolled his eyes expressively, folding up the skin mag long enough to drop Nick's dollar oin the register. "Pink's really your color, maybe if you work hard enough at it you can turn the whole shirt before the end of the day. I can't see shit on your head, though, what, did you get another invisible zit? Like anyone at the comic store will care."

"No, there's a dent," said Nick, stabbing at his forehead and sighing. "I look like a freak. The chief freak in a sea of freaks." He sucked at the raspberry stain again, but it wasn't going anywhere. "I gotta go open up. I'll be back for a refill in half an hour."

"Quit licking your shirt," AJ called after him. "That's fucking disgusting!" Nick just flipped him the finger as he headed out and walked the ten steps to the store next door, glaring at the grate and the locks and wishing he was still at home in bed. He glanced across the street: the grate at the video store was up, and the lights were on, but he couldn't see any sign of Chris. With a sigh, he turned back to unlocking his own store.

Some fucking kid had scrawled in magic marker on the window again, but fucked if Nick was going to clean it up. He wasn't even supposed to be here today. He opened the door and promptly stepped on a piece of gum that someone had spat out onto the stoop. Probably the same kid with the marker. Fucker. "Why me?" he said out loud and flipped on the lights.

It was kind of dusty inside, even though Howie was supposed to clean on Friday nights when he closed, and Nick sneezed once as he turned on the register, dropped the mail in the box, and checked to be sure the newest X-Force comics were still in order. They were, and that was pretty much that for opening up. He sat on the stool behind the counter with a sigh, and sipped his coffee, and peered at the door. Right on cue, the doorbell rang, and he could hear the voice before he saw Chris. "Rock the Casbah, rock the Casbah--holy shit! Where's Justin?"

"Faking sick so he doesn't have to work today," said Nick, putting his feet up. "Either that or he's on his deathbed. I don't care. Fucker isn't here today so he's on my shit list."

"Sweet, he's been a pissy bitch about loaning out the merchandise lately," Chris smiled at him, the flashy startling overcaffeinated one, and headed straight for the comic racks. "Isn't today your day off? Don't you have a softball game at three?" He raised his eyebrows at the anime books prominently displayed.

"Lance is going to have someone here by one at the latest," said Nick. "He promised. Hey, are your fingers all sticky? Quit touching shit if you're going to get it sticky! You know I can't sell it if it's got fingerprints."

"My fingers are never sticky," Chris answered with dignity. "Give me some fucking credit here, who had this job before you? Whoa, shit, Lance actually got some manga. Damn, never thought I'd see the day." He grabbed a couple of comics and wandered over to slouch against the counter, peering at Nick. "You've got shit on your shirt," he pointed out.

"Aw, fuck," said Nick, and picked at the raspberry stain. "Pop-tart guts. *Pink*. I may as well wear a rainbow brite shirt and be done with it, at this rate."

"I can provide the blue." Chris held up a bottle of blue gatorade. "Rainbow, it'd be cool. I bed the customers wouldn't even notice." He poked at the stain himself, finger sharp and hard. "I thought you hated pop tarts, anyway. Didn't you eat breakfast?"

"Ow," said Nick and flinched away. "That *was* breakfast. That and AJ's crappy-ass coffee. Half an hour ago I was still *sleeping*, you know. And what's up with the fucking gatorade, man? You bizarre little freak."

"I'm hungover," Chris said, injured. "It's the best cure going. SOME of us have been here for hours." He looked at his watch pointedly. "Dude, you're knocking AJ's coffee? The man's a genius with a pot. One cup of that and all your nerve endings stand up and do the cha-cha." Chris danced a few steps in illustration, then stopped and grabbed his head. "Ow."

"Cha-cha-cha," said Nick, and flicked Chris's forehead. "AJ's coffee is the vilest thing on the market, and you know it. It's crap. It's sludge. It burns the roof of your mouth. It's also the best damn thing out there to wake you up in the morning. So what did you do last night? Were you at Joey's party?"

"Yeah." Chris smacked his hand away, and reclaimed his slouch against the corner. It made him look even shorter. "It was insane, you shoulda been there. Gorgeous coeds everywhere, Joey had the hot tub open, and I'm pretty sure people were naked. Someone puked in the sink, though, Joey's pretty pissed. Oh! And Sandra, you know, from Clay? She gave Kevin a blow job on the porch, and everyone could totally see."

"I was there," said Nick, "I saw. I think I was even in the hot tub at one point but fuck, I don't remember. God my head hurts. I wasn't even supposed to be here today. Lance is a fucker."

"You were *not* there," Chris narrowed his eyes at Nick. "I was wasted, but I would've remembered that. You're kind of hard to miss, you know, and I'm pretty sure I didn't see you all night. And you know I agree with you declaring Lance a fucker, but you could have said no, you know." He handed over the gatorade. "Here, drink this, you sad hungover bastard."

"I was *there*," said Nick, rolling his eyes at him. "I was there long enough to see two exes and one not-ex-enough. There long enough to see that Kevin trims his pubic hair, which was about half an hour too long, if you ask me. Did you spit in this?"

"Not that I know of," Chris shrugged, not taking offense. "Which exes were there, man? I kind of went upstairs for a while with-well." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "I got back just as the Kevin show was starting, so I must've just missed you. You pussy. You missed the strip pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey."

"I try not to get naked around sharp objects," said Nick dryly, taking a gulp of the gatorade. It was even more vile than the coffee, but at least it was cold and wet. "How many exes have I got that you have to ask that question, anyway?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Chris answered mildly. "You never talk about your exes, you freak. Hence, the asking of the names." He flicked Nick's forehead, right on the sore spot. "Nice dent. What, did you fall out of bed?"

"Ow, fucker. I fell asleep on the phone," said Nick, batting his hand away. "What? Like you never? Manda was there. And, you know, the last one... the one we don't talk about? Not that we talk about Manda, either."

"That's because Manda was a complete psycho hose beast rabid weasel," Chris declared with the ease of long practice, and great satisfaction. "She was awful for you, yo, no matter how hot she was. We know this. Which last one that we don't talk about? Britney? Justin's totally over that, you know. He really doesn't hate you any more, except when he does."

"No, not Britney," said Nick. "We talk about Britney all the fucking time. Not that she wasn't there. I mean, you know, JC. The one we *don't* talk about. Except, apparently, right now."

"Oh, right," Chris nodded again, though he looked a little confused. "I didn't know we didn't talk about JC. I mean, we don't, really, but I didn't know we *didn't*. Whatever. How was the pretty pretty princess? Did he offer to blow you in the bathroom again or something?" Chris swiped the gatorade back and finished it off in one long swallow, tossing the bottle over his shoulder afterwards.

"He was pretty," said Nick, and sighed. "He said hi. No offers of blowjobs, which is good because I probably would've pulled a Kevin right then and there. And pick that up! You almost spattered the new releases shelf, you ingrate."

"It's empty, you spaz." Chris made no move to pick up the bottle. "Don't go there, either, no matter how good he is. Dude only made you nuts, remember. You're way happier since you left his cheating ass. Stay strong." He offered his fist to bump in solidarity.

Nick bumped his fist, but he sighed when he did. "You've seen him, though, right? I can't be expected to have that much self control every day. It's too much to ask of one man. Especially if that one man is me."

"It's a good thing you don't see him every day, then," Chris offered, propping his elbows more comfortably on the counter. "Is it really that great, though? I mean, I just find it hard to believe that any *guy* could give head as good as Erica DeSilva, no matter what you say. Yeah, I guess he's good looking, but." He shrugged. "I dunno."

"You just don't get it," said Nick, shaking his head at him. "No girl could ever be as good as a guy at giving head. Period, end of sentence."

Chris shrugged. "I don't believe you, man, there are some talented chicks out there. Maybe you're just letting the wrong girls blow you. I mean, sure, there's some untalented players on the team, but overall I've never had occasion to complain." He smirked at Nick. "And weren't you the one who called Manda the human vaccuum?"

"You ever put a vaccuum on your dick? NOT a pleasant experience," said Nick. "But it's not a matter of expertise, it's a matter of familiarity. Guys *have* dicks, therefore, they're better at handling them."

"Whatever. I still think that you're being unfairly, like, biased against the female half of our population. Girls can give just as good head, I'd put money on it. Especially the ones who practice a lot." Chris leaned forward and peered through the window. "Huh, looks like someone's trying to get into the video store. Good thing I locked it." He leaned back. "Plus, you know, tits. They're a big plus in my book."

"You don't need tits to give a blowjob," scoffed Nick. "You just gotta have a really complete understanding of the equipment is all. And no matter how much chicks practice, they're never gonna have that. Um. Shouldn't you be at work or something?"

"Whatever," Chris shrugs. "We're having a serious discussion here. I think interest is the key, not familiarity. Like, you get a girl who's really into giving head, really paying attention and shit? That's gotta be better than some dude who's just down there going through the motions, no matter how complete his understanding of the equipment is. I mean, shit, I have the equipment and I bet I'd give awful head."

"Okay, I'll give you that, you've gotta have interest. I mean, definitely not likely *you're* gonna be any good if you drop to your knees right now and go down on me," said Nick, gesturing at his dick like Chris might be unclear on the location. "But if a guy's got the interest, he's just always gonna be better than a chick."

"I dunno, man, I'm still not sold," Chris shook his head. "I'll table the discussion because I don't have personal experience on the other side like you, but once I find a goodly man who'll show me, we can come back and compare notes." He peered out the window again. "Shit, that dude's not leaving. I guess I better go see what he wants." He sighed. "Fucking customers, man."

"Tell me about it," agreed Nick. "And like you'd ever let a guy near your dick anyway. You're just going to have to take my word for it. Though that guy banging on your door over there is pretty hot..."

"Ugh, he looks like he's probably carrying every STD known to man," Chris shudders. "I can practically feel the oil. Greasy, dude, greasy. You should get some better fucking taste." He picks up the bottle and lofts it at Nick's head. "I might, man, I might. You singing the praises of all that incredible head is awful tempting."

"Motherfucker," said Nick as the bottle ricocheted off his glasses. "Watch it, fuckhead, or I'll make sure you never get head again, from a guy or a girl or a goat. Now get out."

"Hah!" Chris laughed, and the doorbell jingled behind him. Even hungover and--probably--exhausted, he still bounced across the street effortlessly, weaving through traffic without looking right or left. Just looking at him made Nick tired. He was pretty sure Chris would be back before long, too, he bored easily, but Nick's first customer came through the door and he had to concentrate on remembering which issue was in which bin. They always got pissy if he didn't know.

At least being knowledgeable didn't require him to be chipper. He just leaned forward onto the counter and crossed his arms and waved with two fingers to make sure the customer knew he was alive and, if not accommodating, then at least available.

She was short and stick-thin, with too many piercings in her face and hair obviously dyed dull black. She sneered at most of the comics and headed straight for the vampire art, and Nick rubbed his aching head with his hand. She was bound to be upset that they didn't have the new Anne Rice graphic novels yet, and after five minutes of her whining, he was thrilled when Chris came back through the door, snarled at her, and sent her running.

"Am I a goth kiddie magnet?" he said as soon as she was gone. "Am I? Because our stock is shit and yet they keep showing up, every damn day."

"They're blinded by your shining blond locks. Deep down they miss the sun," Chris shot back instantly, smirking at him. "You're like their 12-step program or some shit. Dude, you shoulda been at Mick's, AJ just almost got arrested for throwing a can of peaches at some punk's head. I think he was shoplifting."

"AJ, or the punk?" snorted Nick. "Peaches, man. It's nice to know that there are people in the world that are worse freaks than us. What time is it, anyway?"

"The punk, man, AJ won't shoplift from his own store," Chris scolded, checking his watch. "Eleven thirty. And no one's a bigger freak than you, baby. When's Lance supposed to get here, anyway?" He lifted himself up on the counter this time, legs swinging, and handed Nick another gatorade.

"He said Howie would come in," said Nick, taking the drink more easily this time. Whatever worked. "Or he would. By one at the latest. So I'll make the game, no problem. And by freak? I meant you."

"Flatterer." Chris started thumbing through the comic Nick had left on the counter. "I dunno, that Howie's kind of unreliable, isn't he? I'd call if I was you. Anyway, you'll never guess what that guy wanted." He looked at Nick expectantly, clearly waiting for him to guess.

"Bubblegum?" said Nick, rolling his eyes. "Handcuffs? Kiddie porn?"

"You suck," Chris sighed. "No, he wanted to rent ten copies of the Matrix for the viewing party at his house. Totally freaked out when I told him we only had one copy and it was already out. I mean, shit, he thinks we're Blockbuster or something?" Chis shook his head sadly at the stupidity of some people, letting long messy spikes fall over his forehead.

"What the hell does he need ten copies of the Matrix for, anyway? Is he so inept he can't hook things up to use one or two copies?"

"He said he had a tv in every room in his house," Chris shrugged. "I guess he wants to be thorough? I don't know, man, quit asking me to try to figure out insane people." He held up the comic, pointing to one of the characters. "Do you think he's hot?"

"Yes," said Nick instantly, staring unblinking for a moment. "You know. For a comic book character. I mean, who wouldn't?"

"Just checking." Chris went back to staring at the comic. "What about her?" He held it up, pointing at the first character's 'love interest.' "Do breasts actually ever get that big? What do you think?"

Nick tilted his head to the side. "Somehow," he said, after staring for a moment, "I don't think that's quite possible. I mean, what with gravity and all, wouldn't she fall over?"

"Too bad," Chris sighed. "Maybe she's balanced out by the fuckin' huge bulge that guy's sporting. Check it out." He pointed to another picture that had been shaded strangely, making certain areas look gigantic. He started giggling madly, even as he passed over the comic. "Now don't drool, Nicky!"

"You're a dick," said Nick, but the character was, in fact, pretty well hung. Really well hung. Even more well hung than Nick, and Nick wasn't bragging when he said he was gifted. "Oh."

"I *said* don't *drool*," Chris cackled, slapping the comic shut. "Oh, Nick, you're so predictable. So cute!" He was cooing now, chucking Nick under the chin with a finger. "If you're all gooey over some ink and crayon, I think it's past time to get you a new boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever. Waaay past time."

"No," said Nick firmly. "I made a decision and I'm going to stick with that decision and not even JC's pert ass or Manda's pert tits are going to veer me from my course. From now on, I, Nick Carter, am celibate."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Chris sighed, disgusted. "You were drunk as shit when you said that. No one ever sticks to the drunk declarations, it's practically immoral to. Fine, stay away from the crazed sex weasels, but you can't just shut yourself off! It's unhealthy."

"It's not unhealthy," said Nick loftily. "It's perfectly healthy. UNhealthy is Manda Williford. UNhealthy is JC Chasez."

"Well, yeah, no shit. Which is why you need a *new* squeeze or whatever, a good one, who's not a pissy cat or a complete freak." Chris tapped his nose with the end of the comic. "Don't let them drive you away from the beauty that is good sex!"

"No, I've made my choice and I'm sticking to it," said Nick. "No more sex. Except with myself, because I know I'm not going to screw myself over and cheat on myself and find myself in bed with another person unexpectedly."

Chris nodded sympathetically, then frowned. "Hey, no. I mean, don't let the bastards get you down, dude! You're a young man in your prime, you shouldn't be spanking the monkey on a nightly basis. Maybe you should just have casual sex for a while, till you get over whatever those two fucked with in your head." He tapped Nick's nose again with the comic, before hopping down off the counter.

"No. More. Sex!" said Nick pounding his fist on the counter for emphasis and making Chris jump.

"Did I come at a bad time?" asked someone from the doorway. "I can go hang out at the video store until you guys are done with the sex, if you want..."

"No, no, come in, come in," said Nick, shooting a glare at Chris that didn't faze him one bit.

"You can join the sex if you want," he said casually, eyeing the guy up and down and giving Nick a significant look once he'd taken him in. "I think the video store's closed right now." The guy blinked and scratched his short goatee, staring at Chris. "Um, actually, I was just looking for Superman, Issue #38? Not that I don't appreciate the offer and all."

Nick rolled his eyes at Chris and turned to his customer. "That's been out of print forever," he said. "You might get lucky in the bin by the door, but you probably won't unless you're some kind of miracle worker. And whatever you do, do not have sex with the man with the gatorade."

"Right, cool, thanks," the guy said, still sounding vaguely confused, but he nodded at them both and headed for the bin.

"He's hot," Chris hissed at Nick, once the guy had practically buried his head in the bin, sorting through the comics there. "I can tell. Go for it! Or are you thinking chicks this time again? I never can keep track with you. Go make small talk or something!"

"So what if he's hot?" Nick hissed back, keeping his eyes on the guy because a) he *was* hot and b) he might be messing up the merchandise. "You go for him, then, if you think he's so hot. Since you seem to think you want to give it a try."

"I don't think he's my type," Chris said airily, waving his hand. "I don't think I'm gonna dig facial hair at all. Dude, where's your fucking manliness? You see hot, you pursue hot, you fuck hot! It's in the rulebook, and you're totally violating it all over the place. I'm so ashamed. I thought I raised you better than this." He slumped dejectedly back against the counter.

"The way you raised me took me to JC through Manda with a side trip to Britney-land," said Nick. "I think I'm gonna try it my way from now on."

"Hey, how much is this one?" the guy called, lifting his head from the bin.

"Everything in there's a buck, as is, no refunds," Nick called back.

"It's hard to find stuff. You think maybe you can come over and show me?"

"He'd be so happy to do that, you wouldn't even believe," Chris answered for him perkily, giving Nick a shove in the shoulder. "Don't you blame me for Manda or JC," he hissed much more quietly. "Those were all you and your weakness for a pretty face! I told you they were psychos from the beginning."

The guy was standing now, watching them whisper with a speculative eyebrow raised.

"No, you told me they were psychos after they went psychotic," Nick whispered back. "You had no more idea when I did that they would turn out the way they had. And JC wasn't even a psycho! He was just a lying, cheating, sexy bastard." The guy was still standing expectantly. "Okay, I'll be there in just a second."

"This guy doesn't look psycho," Chris offered quietly, eyeing him. "He really is pretty hot, too. Maybe you got in trouble because you were going for 'pretty' instead of 'sexy.' Maybe you just need to change your type?"

"Take your time," the guy said, grinning. He really was very very hot. "I've got plenty of reading material over here."

And Nick may have made a very firm decision, but he was also a guy which meant his dick was in control at least half the time. Ninety percent, if he was Chris. "All right, fine," he said. "I'll talk to him, just to get you off my case." He shoved Chris's shoulder before heading to the front of the store and clearing his throat nervously. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, like I said, I'm looking for Superman," the guy started, smiling at Nick with his whiskey-brown eyes. Nick drifted a little closer. "I mean, is the bin organized in any way at all, or are they all just tossed in here? I really can't tell."

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick could see Chris watching closely. He was maybe even frowning a little bit.

Fuck Chris anyway, he was the one who made him come over here in the first place. Nick would at least get a few cheap thrills out of it. "It's not, really," he said, pushing up closer against him. "I mean, it starts out in alphabetical order, then schmucks come through and move it all around and it's the discount bin so we don't spend much time reorganizing."

"Pain in the ass," the guy commented, not moving away from him an inch. "That must kinda suck for you. I gotta say, though, I didn't see much Superman at all. You got anything in the back, stuff you're holding onto? I'd pay." He looked so nakedly hopeful Nick blinked. This guy really liked Superman. Also seemed to like Nick, if the warm weight leaning against his side as they both peered into the bin was any indication.

"Nick, phone," Chris announced unnecessarily as the phone began to ring. "Better get that, might be the boss."

Nick gritted his teeth and didn't move away. "Can't you pick it up?" he growled back, but Chris blithely ignored the ringing phone. On the off chance it was Lance or Howie, giving him the news that they were on their way, he gave the guy a quick excuse-me-don't-move-i'll-be-right-back and went back to the till to grab the phone. "Yeah?" he said. "I mean, Beyond Comics can I help you?"

"Nick?" Lance's deep voice, sighing his name like it was an imposition that he had to call. "Listen, I'm sorry, but Howie can't make it in today. So I'll be there to cover, by two at the absolute latest, all right?" Chris was practically bouncing at his side, wanting to know what was happening. "And Nick, don't answer the phone by saying 'yeah.'"

"Two?" repeated Nick. "Lance, you told me one. You told me one at the latest, and I can't work this afternoon, I got a softball game. You know that. I wasn't even supposed to be here today."

"Sorry, man." Lance actually did sound vaguely apologetic. "Nothing I can do. You're just gonna have to sit tight till I can get there. Later." The line went dead with a click.

"Was that the lilting voice of our beloved manager?" Chris asked, wrinkling up his nose disgustedly. "What'd that freak have to say?"

"He'll be here by two," said Nick, scowling at the phone. "Why did I say *yes*? I should've just stayed in bed this morning. I should've told him I was dying. Something. *Any*thing. And don't you have your own job to go to, anyway?"

"The video store sucks," Chris shrugged. "It's much nicer over here. Plus, the only people who come into the video store are looking to rent porn or new releases, neither of which we have much of. So there's really no point in my being there." He looked at Nick, head cocked. "Your comic dude left," he pointed out. "Guess he heard your pathetic whining."

"You *fucker*," said Nick, staring at the deserted space next to the discount comic bin. "*You're* the one that told me to talk to him! And now he's gone and it's your fault that the only hot guy I've talked to in a month, not counting JC, isn't dragging me into the back room right now. I need some more coffee."

"Clearly," Chris snorted. "You really let that one slip through your fingers. Too bad, too, he was sexy. If you like 'em all big and dark and brawny, anyway." He slapped Nick's shoulder encouragingly. "Look on the bright side. At least you aren't spewing that crap about being celibate any more, so hey. Progress!"

"No, I think I'm definitely back to being celibate," said Nick. "That guy was just an... an abberation, thanks to your unhealthy influence. Can you watch the store for a few minutes? I'm visiting next door. And don't get gatorade on anything, or spit, or snot, or anything else that comes out of your body."

"What? I was gonna jerk off in the corner with all the trashy Japanese cartoon porn," Chris objected, rolling his eyes with heavy sarcasm. "Don't worry, I won't hurt your precious comics, you anal retentive nutbar. Go get your coffee. Smack AJ for me. And don't go throwing words like 'celibate' around near him, he might actually brain you with the peaches."

"I bet AJ understands celibacy better than you do, at least," muttered Nick, grabbing his empty and slightly chewed cup. He was getting his refill, dammit. "Just... don't touch anything. And don't scare the customers away. I'll be right back." He ducked out the front door, to a few steps and ducked back into Mick's Coffee-2-Go. "Hey."

"Wassup, dawg?" Nick had a hard time believing that all the aforementioned drama had occurred: AJ was still sitting right where he'd been at eight that morning, still flipping through the same porno mag, still with his sunglasses on and a giant mug of coffee at his side. He peered at Nick over the top rim of the shades. "I think that spot on your shirt's getting bigger. Did you actually lock up the store?"

"I left Chris watching it," said Nick, and held up his hand. "No, don't say it, I don't care. It's that kind of day." He refilled his coffee and managed not to make a brown stain on his shirt to match the pink one. "You got a smoke?"

AJ magicked a pack out of the pockets of his very-tight jeans, and offered Nick two. "Here, take a couple. I got a whole carton offa back of a truck last week, I got more smokes than I know what to do with." He kicked his feet back up on the counter and started reading again. "I'd smoke 'em fast if I was you, though. Fuck only knows what Kirkpatrick's up to over there. Make him go open the goddamned video store already."

"I already tried that," said Nick, ignoring the no smoking sign and lighting the cigarette with a cracked lighter he fished out of his jeans. He didn't even remember leaving it there. "As long as he's not jerking off, I'll consider myself lucky. Fucking Bass, man. He's not coming in until two."

"Course he's not," AJ sniffed. "It's his day off. He's got all us schmucks working, you really think he's gonna bust ass to get down here on your behalf? No way." He reached the last page of the magazine, shrugged, and flipped it closed, offering it to Nick. "Here, give this to Chris and send him to his own store. One more person comes in here bitching about it being closed I'm gonna lose my shit."

"I give him this, you think he's going to *leave*?" said Nick, sucking in hard. He really did only have a couple minutes. "No man, I'll just slide it under the door and tell him it's there. He doesn't give a shit about anything else. He can jerk off in his own store."

"He jerks off with you right there?" AJ peered at him over his shades incredulously. "I know you all are close and everything, but that's pretty fucking *close*, youknowwhatI'msayin'? You might wanna, like, check your personal boundaries there, my man."

"No, he doesn't," said Nick, and sighed. "Not that I wouldn't--" He stopped when he realized just who he was talking to. "He'd use the can, you ass. What, you think he whips it out right there?"

"It's *Chris*," AJ pointed out, tone full of meaning. "I don't put anything past that cat. Speaking of which, you better go check your store, dude. You never know what he's up to." He fished another magazine out of the rack, settled back, and crossed his ankles on the counter. "And don't come back and drink all my coffee without money. Ass."

"I told you I get refills," said Nick, with an inward sigh of relief that AJ didn't pursue it, and got himself another just to make his point. "Thanks for the smokes man, I'll be back later."

"I didn't AGREE that you get refills," AJ shouted after him, cut off abruptly by the door swinging shut. Nick took a moment to breathe the afternoon air, then ducked back into the comic shop, wincing at the discordant jingle of the stupid fucking bell.

"Hey, if that's Nick, c'mere and look what I found." Chris's cheerful voice came from near the floor, behind the counter, and Nick was almost afraid to look.

"This is your idea of watching the store?" he called back, looking around first to see if any customers had wandered in. "Just let me..." He put the coffee down, and leaned over the counter. "What? What did you find, and is looking at it going to scar me?"

"Sadly, no," Chris said, peering up at him. He was sitting crosslegged on the floor, action figures scattered around him. "Check it out, I'm having a war. Who do you think would win, Sabretooth or the Predator? If the Predator didn't have his lasergun, but they were in the jungle?"

"Good God, Chris, did you open those?" But once the heart attack had finished wracking his chest, Nick realized that even Chris wasn't that fucking stupid. "Predator. He's smarter."

"They were already open, fucknut," Chris sneered, rolling his eyes. "I got 'em out of the bin, would you please relax for just five minutes?" He made Predator chop at Sabretooth's head for a moment, then paused, considered, and shook his head. "I don't know. Predator was dumber than Arnold, and Arnold isn't any kind of rocket scientist. And Sabretooth stayed alive against Wolverine for a hell of a long time."

"Yeah, but Sabretooth is a dumbfuck and I don't like him," said Nick, and did he need more reason than that? "The Predator was way cooler. He would win just by virtue of being cooler."

"He did have much better hair, or tentacles or whatever," Chris agreed. "But if coolness won battles, Superman wouldn't have made it through his first year. Talk about a stick up the ass." He looked up again, and wrinkled his nose. "You were smoking with AJ. Thought you quit? Hey, what's that magazine?"

"I did quit," said Nick, and fanned the air around him. "Again. It didn't take. But hey, I come bearing porn, man. If I give it to you, will you go back to work?"

"Is the porn any good?" Chris made no move to get up. "I'm at work, kind of, anyway. I just watched the store for you, my boss is your boss, really, I'm just here to help." He grinned up and spread his arms wide. "You'd miss me if I was gone! Think how bored you would be in this asstastic place."

"I didn't look. It's AJ's porn. I'm not really into chicks spreading their legs right now, man." He waved the magazine at him. "Go on, take it. Just... keep it out of sight, or something. I could get in trouble when someone comes in here."

"I doubt it. AJ reads it right out there and everything." Chris reached up and snatched the magazine, opened it up right away and started flipping through it, pausing appreciatively on certain pages. He looked up, stared at Nick for a moment, and then grinned. "You should probably come back behind the counter, Nick. Right now you look kinda like a confused customer."

"What, you want me to look at porn with you?" Nick asked him. "Sick bastard. I'm watching the door for when Lance shows up." Which meant he would be standing there for the next couple hours. "He said it might get busy today."

"Right," Chris snorted. "That means you'll get fifteen people in here! Whoo! Stop the presses!" He went back to the magazine, whistling tunelessly until he glanced back at Nick, frowning. "At least sit fucking down. Lance ain't coming, and you're making me feel short." He kicked the counter stool towards Nick with one foot.

"You're sitting behind my counter!" said Nick, flailing one arm. "You deserve to feel short." He did sit down on the stool, though. And lean against the counter for about two minutes. "Anything good in the magazine?"

"Eh." Chris shrugged. "Standard naked chicks. I think I can see her tonsils. And not through her mouth." He peered closer, blinked, then turned the page. "You can have it when I'm done, if you want. It might reawaken your appreciation for the female form, since some of these chicks are pretty smokin', for porn."

"I'm celibate," Nick reminded him. "And porn like that's more likely to turn me off them than on them." He leaned over the magazine anyway. "Those ain't her tonsils," he said. "And I'm scared to think about what they *are*."

Chris clucked sadly. "You're a sad excuse for a man," he mourned, turning another page. "You shame me. I thought I raised you right. Celibate my ASS. I bet a pretty thing walks through that door, you forget all about it, just like with tall dark and Supermanny before. You're just waiting for the right pretty face."

"You fucked up my chances with tall dark and Supermanny!" Nick reminded him. "You suck. You're the *reason* I'm celibate, you and your stupid advice about chicks, and about guys which you obviously know *nothing* about. And it's not like you have a girlfriend either!"

"Yeah, but I'm not whining about celibacy, either," Chris pointed out. "Trust me, I know a fuck lot more about chicks than you do! And I *am* a guy, how could I know nothing about them?" He slapped at Nick's leg. "Superman was totally wrong for you, I could tell. I was doing you a favor. You should be thanking me on bended knee!"

"You wish," said Nick, reaching for his coffee. Either to drink it or to spill it on Chris, he wasn't sure which. "You know nothing about trying to pick up a guy, then. You have to desire something to know anything about it. So you would neither know whether Superman was right *or* wrong for me and, therefore, should have butted out."

"Hey!" Chris was clearly offended that his authority was being questioned. "Hey, I told you, I'm thinking about shopping on your side of the street, lately! I've had my eye out, Carter, I'll have you know, so don't get all bi-er-than-thou on me. Maybe I've never actually tried it, sure, but that doesn't mean I know nothing about men. Did I not tell you JC was too pretty to stay faithful? Didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Nick rolling his eyes. "You're such a liar, man. You're only saying that because you think it's gonna afford you the right to mock me about my exes even more than you do. You'll let one guy suck your dick -- *maybe* -- and then you'll turn into this huge authority on guys. And you probably won't even get that far."

"Oh, fuck you!" Chris was actually starting to look honestly irritated. "I will so, I've been thinking about it. Maybe I'll only let one guy suck my dick if it SUCKS, but not so I can mock you." He considered. "Okay, a little so I can mock you. But not only that! And I'll totally get that far. Superior fuck."

"I *am* the superior fuck, here," insisted Nick. "I've had both, I have enough experience to make a choice about what I want. I didn't decide to fuck guys just to show you up!"

"How far do you really think I'd go to make you look dumb?" Chris's hands were waving around in the air, his expressive face completely incredulous. "I mean, come on, there are plenty other things I can rag on you about, you know, I don't have to run out and contradict my entire *sexuality* for you! If it was contradicting, which I doubt, since I have been thinking about it."

"Right," said Nick, still not buying it. Chris would go a long way for a prank, he should know. "Since when, have you been thinking about it? Since why? Who do you think is hot? Besides JC, because that one's just a gimme."

"Since I started," Chris said, mouth setting stubbornly. "I don't think JC's hot at all, actually, just kinda pretty in a totally asexual way. And because...I think being around you and all those gay vibes set off some kind of harmonic vibration, wakening the totally buried latent manlove in my makeup or whatever, so, it's completely your fault."

"Right, it's completely my fault you're pretending to be bi so that you can mess with my head," agreed Nick, rolling his eyes. "Of course it's my fault. It's always my fault, isn't it. I send off all these gay vibes in all directions that completely fuck up my life." He waggled his fingers on both sides of him like little floating gay rays until Chris looked at him like he was an idiot. "What? You suck."

Chris aped his motion with vast exaggeration, making a face. "What the fuck is that? You're trying to be an octopus? Jesus, you're wierd." He smacked Nick's foot with the magazine. "I'm not the one sucking, here. I'm not the one doubting his best friend when he's, like, coming to him with a whole revalation thing, and all you do is mock. Mock mock mock!"

Nick squinted down at him and adjusted his glasses. "Wait, are you serious? Like, seriously serious for real? You're not just fucking with me?"

"No." Chris spoke slowly and clearly, as if to a slow dog. "I am not fucking with you. I am serious. You are being a moron." He pushed up, finally, off the floor, almost tripping over an action figure of Spock. "Here. Look at naked chicks, maybe it'll shock you back to sanity or something."

"Well, how am *I* supposed to know?" said Nick, taking the magazine and slapping it down on the counter. "You're *usually* fucking with me when you say shit like that. Am I supposed to say sorry? Sorry. I didn't know. Maybe you *should've* gone for Superman after all. You probably would've done better than me."

"Eh," Chris said, shrugging again. "He wasn't really my type, at least I don't think so. Facial hair, remember? Not so much a fan of the facial hair." He pushed his own hair back away from his face with a restless hand, and started to wander through the racks, peering at the comics. "You don't gotta say you're sorry, man," he finally added. "No big deal."

"Yeah, well," said Nick, and shrugged, watching him. "If it was me, I'd want you to say sorry. I didn't know you were for serious, man, honest. I wouldn't've been such a dick to you. I would've been a totally different kind of dick." He scratched at the light stubble on his face and wished he'd taken the time to shave before coming in.

That brought the flashing grin back to Chris's face. "You're *always* some kind of dick," he answered gleefully. "This ain't different, you know. You know me, Carter, I'm not so much for apologies. Though that expression on your face is seriously funny, I've gotta say. Looks like you swallowed a jalapeno or something."

"What?" said Nick, and forced a matching grin onto his face, trying not to scratch anymore and call attention to it. It was light and thin anyway. Hardly a manly patch of hair. "I'm a dick, you're a dick, we're all dicks."

"I'm a cunt, personally," said a female voice from the doorway. "Though I've been called a dick by dicks like you. You carry Magic starter decks?"

"What?" said Nick, staring at her for a second. "Oh, yeah, yeah, 'gainst the back wall. Um... sorry about that..."

"Nice shoes," Chris said amiably as the girl passed, staring at her ratty purple and orange sneakers, and just nodded when she flipped him off. He sighed, and leaned on the counter by Nick's elbow. "How many times I gotta tell you not to apologize to the customers? You do that, they start thinking they're right or something, and then it's all downhill. Jesus, Nick, you know better."

"The customer *is* always right," said Nick. "In theory. Besides, what chick wants to come into a store and hear two guys talking about dicks, you know? And not even actual, fun dicks, just the concept of being a dick. She deserved an apology. Even if she is a cunt."

"What?" Chris's eyes were huge and round with pretend shock. "I can't believe you just said that the customer is always right! What's the matter with you? Clearly, that chick--" he indicated the girl, who was ignoring them entirely and flipping through Magic decks, "--didn't give a rat's ass, so neither should you. And all this celibacy is rotting your brain. Either that or AJ's coffee."

"Celibacy is *clearing* my head, not fucking with it," insisted Nick. "Same with the coffee, though it's AJ's so maybe I shouldn't be too sure about that. That's the basis of customer service, though -- the customer is always right. Even if you think they're a dumbfuck. They're the ones forking over the money, after all. They expect a certain level of service from the employees, being us. Or me, anyway, I'm not sure you actually work."

"I work," Chris protested, injured. "It says so right on my paycheck. Come on, now. You're not making these people a house, or repairing their car's brakes, or even making them a hamburger. You're selling 'em shitty comics. I'm renting 'em shitty movies. We have shitty jobs and there's no reason we should be cheerful about it to the people who come in wanting what we got to offer."

"No, your paycheque says you show up," Nick correct him. "Yeah, we might have shitty jobs, but people still want comics and movies and we don't have to be assholes about it. I'm not saying we need to be *cheerful*, we just need not to talk about dicks in front of them, you know? Or at least, not so loud."

Chris sighed, shaking his head. "Where did I go wrong with you?" He asked the room in general, and the girl just kept on ignoring him. "Dude, us talking about dicks is just brightening up their days. You've gotta stop living your life under these strict rules. 'I've got to date that pretty blond and take it when she treats me like shit.' 'I've got to be polite to the customers.' 'I've got to come in on my day off.' Break free! Grow some balls!"

"I have balls," said Nick, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. "Just because I choose to abide by society's rules when it comes to certain things, doesn't mean I don't have a set. It's pretty fucking stupid to rebel against something just for the sake of rebelling, you know."

"Fight the establishment!" the girl called to him, not even looking back, and maybe she wasn't ignoring them after all.

"The world," said Nick in a low voice, "is against me. That's the only explanation."

"Oh, shut up with that shit," Chris said, irritated. "The world's not against you. The world doesn't CARE enough to be against you, which is why you gotta stick with your friends. And quit bitching. You make your own way, dude, I'm telling you." He hoisted himself up on the counter, legs kicking at the case. "Fight the establishment," he repeated back to the girl, pumping a fist in the air. She just glanced at him dismissively.

"Don't get footprints on that," muttered Nick absently, trying not to look at either one of them. "Lance will be here soon, and he'll give you shit. Say, isn't that a naked chick in front of your store? Or hey, it might even be a naked guy, here's your chance..."

"Reeee-laaax," Chris said, kicking again for good measure. "You know as well as me that Lance ain't coming, and that there ain't a naked person in front of the video store. I'm just not that lucky. I think maybe I'll leave you here to wallow in your misery, though. I think we just got a copy of the collector's edition of X Men in." He watched the girl wander up to the counter, though, and didn't move.

"Excuse me," she said acidly, waving the cards in her hand. "Could you please quit flirting with your boyfriend so I can buy this shit and get out of here?"

"He's not my boyfriend," snapped Nick, giving Chris's ass a shove. "He's just the jerk from the video store. Chris, go! Before we both get into trouble. Lance *will* be here, he said he'll be here by two, so I can go. That'll be twenty bucks for the bunch, miss."

She rolled her eyes expressively, and handed him a twenty dollar bill, stuffing the cards into her huge backpack. "He's not your boyfriend," she observed, on her way out the door. "You're right about that. You two are *married*."

"Yeah, right," Chris grumbled, ass still planted firmly on the counter. Once Nick stopped shoving, though, he hopped down, wandering towards the door himself. "I can tell when I'm not wanted. But you'll see, Lance isn't coming, man. Don't get your hopes all up. You can kiss that baseball game goodbye." "There's no way I'm not playing today," insisted Nick. "The guys are counting on me. I'm not even supposed to be here today!" Chris just rolled his eyes at him. "Go do some work or something. Or at least put a sign up on your door saying you're closed for inventory, so people stop making noseprints on your window trying to see inside. That shit's a bitch to get off."

"Like I clean the windows," Chris snorted, stepping outside and holding the door open so he could call back in. "And you'd better call your guys and let 'em know you're bailing! Otherwise they're gonna be pissed! I'll bet you fifty bucks Lance doesn't show."

Nick didn't take the bet, and the door swung shut behind Chris with a bang. Nick watched him stroll across the street again and start chatting up the customers waiting in front of the store. He wiped Chris's buttprint off the counter and then settled himself onto the stool, looking at the magazine Chris left behind, until he heard the door and looked. up. Motherfucker. JC. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, man." JC beamed at him and drifted through the door, glancing around wide-eyed and curious. "I saw you at the party last night, you know? And wow, you looked totally great, I just wanted to say. It kind of reminded me, we had some real good times and everything, and I thought I'd stop by to say hey and see what's up and all that kind of thing." He picked up a comic book and glanced at it. "So. Hey!"

"Hey!" said Nick, and in spite of *everything*, he couldn't help grinning at him. "Yeah, I saw you, too. Good party, huh?" Good party? Could he be any lamer than that? "You looked pretty great, too. I mean... no, yeah, you looked great. I noticed you. How've you been?"

"Oh, pretty good, can't complain." JC abandoned the comic and wandered towards Nick, peeking at him out of the corner of his eye with a sweet little smile. "I maybe noticed you noticing? And that guy I was with, he's just nobody. Somebody my *mom* set me up with, can you believe it? He's a doctor, and she's got to play matchmaker." He came to rest against the counter, smiling up at Nick through his eyelashes. "I've missed you. How have *you* been?"

Nick licked his lips involuntarily and smiled again. "I've been... good," he said, and his voice cracked and he could feel himself blushing. Thank god Chris wasn't here to witness the event, or Nick would never hear the end of it. "Just, you know, same old thing. Here. With me. "That guy... he seemed like your type, though. I just figured... "

"Oh my GOD, no," JC laughed, rolling his eyes. "I mean, sure, we date sometimes, but it's not like I want to settle down with him or anything. No matter what my mother tells me." He leaned a little closer to Nick. "He's way too different from you to be my type anyway. I think about you, you know. All the time. I just wish, I wish it had gone differently, you know?"

"Yeah, I wish you hadn't cheated on me, too, JC," said Nick, snapping back to remembering just why they weren't together. "But hey, that's life, that's how it goes sometimes. We definitely can't always get what we want." But JC was right there, looking at Nick with those > big eyes, then smiling and letting them crinkle up. Nick loved it when he did that; he was so beautiful. "I guess... I mean, sometimes we have second chances, though... "

"I was in a really bad place in my life," JC said earnestly, never looking away from Nick. "I was just really confused about what I wanted, you know? I think, I think being away from you has completely shown me the error of my ways, seriously. So I thought I'd stop by. I just, I can't stop thinking about you, and seeing you at that party, all gorgeous like you are and kind of moping, it made me remember all that great stuff, how wonderful we were together."

"So that was when you started thinking about it?" said Nick, leaning towards him. "When you saw me? Or was it... before that?" The way Nick, even though he bitched about the relationship constantly, never really stopped thinking about JC. "I know about being in a bad place in your life... the decisions you make aren't great, and you wish you could take some of them back. Right?"

"Right, sure, whatever," JC said on a sigh, his eyes flickering to Nick's lips for just a moment before he leaned in and kissed Nick, soft and sweet with just a little dirty slide of tongue. "Listen," he whispered, his hand slipping around to Nick's back. "I have to go meet Kevin for lunch, my mom set it up. Do you want to...do you have anything to do tonight? Do you want to maybe do something?"

Nick grinned back at him, a little shyly. Maybe it would really be different this time; it was easy to think so, with JC standing right there. "Come back and see me after," he said. "We can work something out, Because yeah, free tonight, totally free tonight. I could do something."

JC's whole face melted into a huge smile, and he was about to answer when the doorbell jingled again, and Chris's laughter preceded him through the door.

"Nicky, you're not gonna believe what this cust--oh my god, it's the devil." He hastily crossed himself, cringing back against the door and staring at JC with exaggerated horror.

"Hi, Chris," JC sighed, straightening up a little, though he left his hand on Nick's back. "What's up?" He looked at Nick, though, and asked "Tonight? Around eight?" without waiting for Chris's answer.

Um, yeah, sure," said Nick, eyes darting to Chris and back to JC again. "Just call here to make sure, all right? Or show up? Just so we can... whatever. Make plans."

"Sure," said JC, and then he was leaning in and kissing Nick again, and Nick did nothing to stop him. "I'll see you then." He finally let go and started for the door. "Bye Chris. Good seeing you again."

"Aaagh!" Chris darted away from the door, clearing the way for JC, watching him warily as he made his way out the door. "Good riddance," he called, after the door was safely shut. The look he turned on Nick then was equal parts disbelief, amusement, and maybe disappointment. "What the FUCK was he doing in here, kissing all over you like that? Tell me he didn't suck your brain out? Nick? Nick? You still in there?"

"He didn't suck my brains out," said Nick, rolling his eyes at Chris and settling back against the counter. "He just... he wants to try again, you know? He says he's changed, things have changed. He was in a bad place in his life before. It happens." And if that didn't quite -- or even close to -- make up for the things that he'd done in the past, well, Nick wasn't interested in remembering that just at the moment, while he could still practically feel JC's lips on his.

"He was in a bad place in his life?" Chris's eyebrows shot up incredulously. "Did he actually say that to you? Those words? Oh my god, what a fucking tool. Come on, Nick. The guy cheated on you with half of Chicago, he made you insane, he drove you to drink, and you're going to take him BACK? Tell me you're not that whipped on him. Please. Tell your good buddy Chris you did not just buy that line."

Nick stared at his hands for a moment. "It made sense when he was saying it," he admitted finally. "I mean, maybe he was! How do we know he wasn't? Anyway... he said he wanted me back. And did you see him, Chris? Did you see him? He looked great. Totally great."

"He's a ho!" Chris threw his hands up in the air. "I don't care what he looks like, he's a big fat slut and you can't tell me he's changed *that* much. Of course he wants you back, you treated him great and put up with his shit and he had his boys on the side, too." He shook his head. "You deserve better than him, Nicky."

"You're the one who's telling me how dumb it is to be celibate!" said Nick, throwing his hands up in the air. "First Superman wasn't good enough for me, now a guy I *know* is hot in the sack isn't good enough for me. If Brad Pitt walked through that door right now -- work with me on this one -- would *he* be good enough for me?"

Chris cocked his head and appeared to be seriously considering it. "Nah," he finally said. "He's married, and that's just never a good idea. Seems like a fairly nice guy, though, so otherwise, sure. Nick, c'mon now. It's one thing to be celibate, it's another thing to go with some fuckwit you *know* is gonna make you miserable. Find someone decent!"

"Like who?" said Nick, throwing his arms up in the air. "That's easy for you to say -- find someone decent. I don't know if you think I should find a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a one-night-stand like you're so fond of. And meanwhile, you've got no idea what I really want. Find someone decent! Are there any decent people left?"

"Wow," Chris said, staring at him. "You really do like to whine!" He grinned a little. "You know, do whatever you want. There are decent people left, for sure, it's just that you never date them. Boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever, you know? Since you're all about the someone special, monogamy gig. Just don't date someone you *know* is gonna mess your head around. Date someone cool, for once."

"Whatever," said Nick, rolling his eyes at him. "The cool ones wouldn't have me anyway. JC's not such a bad guy, really, when he's not... being such a bad guy. A little psychotic maybe, but at least I'd be getting some, and isn't that what you want? As long as I don't take it too seriously, it'll work out fine. I'll get laid, you'll be happy, everyone will move on."

"Move on? Sounds like moving back to me." Chris sighed, and circled around to Nick's side, nudging him with a shoulder. "Come on, dude, you know better than that. You *always* take it too seriously, and you always end up freaking out completely. Then you get your heart broken, and you sit on my couch for weeks staring at the wall. It's a vicious cycle, kiddo, it's gotta end."

"If I wanted therapy, I'd pay someone to do it right," snorted Nick, looking at the door and almost hoping that a customer would walk through it. No one did. Big surprise. "So what, are you suddenly going to move your couch on me? Not let me wallow on it next time? Bullshit, you know you'll let me. Just like I let you punch through my wall that time, only I had to pay for the wall and your couch doesn't suffer any damage so... where was I going with that?"

"Search me, baby," Chris shrugged, with a little grin. "In the words of the wise man, I never try to second guess the insane." He ducked Nick's shove with insulting ease. "Me coucha es su coucha, always and forever amen, you know that. I think you're making dents, though. No damage? There's a permanent imprint of your ass on that thing. Pretty soon you'll have to buy me a new one, and then where'll we be?"

"I'd just make a new assprint on the new one," said NIck reasonably, shrugging. "It's all comfortable now. No harm done. So whatever, man. I totally can't win with you, ever. I should go fuck goats at the zoo or something, just so I'm not getting with someone that's gonna fuck with my head."

"Goats bite," Chris pointed out practically. "You should know better than to try to win with me by now anyway. In fact, I'm disappointed that you're still trying. Dork." He slung an arm around Nick's shoulders, patting him with a small hand. "There are people out there that won't fuck with your head, and I bet some of 'em smell better than goats. You just have to let me pick them out for you."

"Oh, I do, do I?" said Nick. JC couldn't possibly be worse than what Chris would pick out, though. And, when he thought about the sex -- wow, the sex -- JC became a more enticing option. "How about that guy?" He pointed across the street at a guy peering in the window of the video store and tapping on the glass. Or at least Nick thought it was a guy. Even with his glasses on, the shape was still to indistinct to be sure of.

"Nick, Nick," Chris said sadly, not even looking across the street, just shaking his head with a long sigh. "You can't just be picking people up off the street. Not if you're avoiding the mindfucks. Now, I know just the guy for you. He's...he's sweet. He likes comics, he's only a little younger than you, he's blond. I'll set you guys up sometime. Now, just remember, don't listen when he talks. And everything will be fine." He gave Nick's shoulder an encouraging pat.

"What? Don't listen when he talks?" Nick grunted and shook his head. "What, kinda like what I do with you? Okay, who is this guy? Is he as hot as JC? If he's not, you're already fighting a losing battle..."

Chris frowned at him, oddly intent. "Seriously? Cause we might have a little problem there. I hate that flake with a passion, but I can't deny he's just about the best looking thing walking. I mean, Ashley's cute, he really is. Blond, blue eyes, nice tan, a little short, but cute. He's just kind of stupid, but he's honest, and he can cook. Good stuff. You should give less hotter guys than JC a fighting chance, here."

Nick sighed and rolled his eyes. "I was kidding. Mostly. But you of all people should know that I'm not gonna go with someone I can't have a decent, face to face, conversation with. I mean, sure, I could fuck him a couple times, but then what else is there." He chewed on his thumbnail for a moment. "He cooks, though? Like... well?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Like, he was going to CIA for a while, but I don't know, something happened, he cracked under the pressure I think and dropped out in some big flameout. But I hear he still makes a mean souffle, and meatballs to die for. No pun intended." He slapped Nick's shoulder. "There you go. Fuck him a couple times, get him to cook for you, and then bring me leftovers. Then we can have the decent face to face conversation, and you're all set."

"So what's the difference between me fucking him a couple times and coming back to you, and me fucking JC a couple times and coming back to you?" Nick asked him. "JC maybe can't cook, but he always has some good wine on hand. I mean, when you get right down to it, it's pretty much the same thing, when you don't involve your heart or your head. Fucking is fucking, and at least I *know* JC does it well."

Chris slapped lightly at his head. "Dumbass, because you were in *love* with JC. And somewhere in that pretty dippy head of yours, I bet you're thinking it'll still work out for you two. You'll take him back, wine and roses blah blah blah, and then two weeks tops before you're making that assdent in my couch just that much deeper. At least with Ashley you're less likely to get all caught up in feelings and shit for him."

Nick grumbled at him, but he was right. Once Nick had confessed to Chris that he'd been in love with JC, he'd pretty much never stopped talking about it. It was a little hard to deny now. "You didn't see him," he said finally. "All... hot and apologetic. I haven't even seen Ashley."

"He's free tomorrow night," Chris said, though he didn't seem all that excited about it, really. "I can set you two up. He's cute, I wouldn't steer you wrong and set you up with some dog, you know that. I'll give you his number if you want, no matter how dumb he is he's gotta be better than hot apologetic JC." He checked his watch. "Dude. You are really not going to make that game."

Nick glanced at Chris's watch. "Fuck, fuck, motherfucker, fuckhead, fucking asshole, fuckface. I can't believe he did this to me. I wans't even supposed to be here today!"

"Oh, shut up," Chris said, and pushed away from the counter, heading for the door. "Go sort the X-Men shit or something, you're the pushover who came in today. And didn't belive me when I told you Lance wasn't showing, I bet he's on his boat right now, this very moment. I'm gonna go rent to some videos to that poor dude, he's been out there an hour already."

"Fine!" said Nick. "Go! Leave me with my shitty job and my shitty love life and my having to be here today when I should be at the game. Go! Do you stupid job. See if I care."

Chris pivoted, hands on his hips and head cocked so that he looked like a small, pissed-off terrier. "What the fuck, man? You're shoving me out of here all morning, telling me I should be at the video store, and now you're pissed I'm leaving? You've got some serious schizo shit going on in there, Carter, I'm telling you. Seek help, man." He slammed out of the store, but before Nick could do more than blink, AJ slipped in, peering back over his shoulder.

"You finally actually lit him on fire?" He guessed mildly, offering Nick a cigarette.

"Metaphorically speaking," he muttered, and banged his head against the counter, twice for good measure. Then took the cigarette, because god knows when AJ was going to offer him another. "I can't smoke this in here," he said, and lit it. "Do you think I'm a headcase? Do you think I need mental help?"

"Sure," AJ said promply. "You want some Xanax? I can get it for you real cheap." He lounged against a display case, eyeing the cherry on the end of his own cigarette. "We live in a dysmorphic and damaging world, dude, it's a strain on the mental faculties of the most stable among us. Which you're kinda not, no offense. You're saner than Chris, though. Or that pretty ex of yours, JC? Definitely nuts. Gives great head, though."

Nick just stared at him for a minute. "How the hell did you know about JC?" he asked him. "I *know* I never told you about him, I would have remembered that. I never even told you... and how did you fucking *know*? Is my crappy-ass best friend talking about me behind my back, now?"

"Dude, everyone knew," AJ rolled his eyes. "It's not really a secret, man. And your ex boyfriend? Is a ho. A ho who gives fantastic unbelievable head, but a ho nonetheless. I saw him coming in here earlier, are you two getting back together? Cause I gotta say, I had ten bucks on little Chris finally getting in there, and dude, don't lose me money."

"Huh?" said Nick, staring at him some more. "Whatthefuck? Chris?" But he sighed again, and wasn't that just the way this fucking day was going? "He wanted to hook up, you know? Try again? JC, that is. And he seems real sincere and all. Chris thinks it's the fucking stupidest idea he ever heard. He wants to hook me up with a friend of his instead. I should just go back to the whole celibacy idea, at this rate."

"Celibacy leads to ulcers, high blood pressure and hemarhoids," AJ said, clearly shocked, drawing himself up tall. "It's unhealthy, and it's just plain WRONG! But dude, don't be surprised when JC starts doggin' around again. I mean, I'm just about straight, and even I had to hit that once or twice." He shook his head, looking admiring. "That boy's got some skills."

"Wait... when he was with ME, you did?" Nick said incredulously. But AJ had to mean something else, that wasn't possible. "I know he cheated, I'm not that dumb, but he said it was only those couple times..."

AJ scratched his chin, looking uncomfortable. "Well, y'know. He was talking about free love and breaking society's chains and expectations, and one thing kinda lead to another, y'know? I kind of thought you knew. I mean, he wasn't real quiet about it, with me or, well, whoever. It was just oral, anyway."

"You had sex with my boyfriend?" said Nick, his voice rising, not really listening to the rest of that. "YOU... had sex with MY boyfriend? What the hell, AJ?"

"Hey," AJ said defensively, raising his hands palm-out. "From the way that boy was acting I figured you had a, whatdoyoucallit, open relationship or some shit. He had sex with half the people I know, dude, you cannot tell me you didn't know that."

Nick didn't know. "I can't believe this is my life," he said, and smacked his palm to his forehead. "I *loved* him. I was gonna go out with him again..."

AJ blinked at him. "Wow. You really didn't know that? Whoa." He reached over and patted Nick's shoulder gently. "Sorry, man. But, you know, that was some incredible head, right there. Can't say I'm sorry about that part." He offered Nick a pack of cigarettes like a peace pipe, but was already scanning the store. "Did that hot goth chick come in here earlier?"

Nick took another without even having to think about it. "Goth chick? Yes. Hot? Not that I remember. What do you need a hot goth chick for if you're getting head from my boyfriend?"

"It was the one time, Jesus, don't make a big deal out of it or anything." AJ rolled his eyes. "And you're not even going out any more, so you shouldn't be worrying about who he's blowing anyway, right? Always move forward, not back." He nodded wisely. "There was a hot goth chick in the convenience store earlier, she wanted non-acetone nail polish remover, of all fuckin' things. I sent her to Big Buy."

"She bought something, I don't know what," said Nick, waving his hand in vague irritation. "I was going to go out with him again, though. And even if I wasn't, you did it WHILE I was going out with him which is clearly... something bad, AJ. That's not right!"

"Dude." AJ looked wounded. "I told you about the free love speech, right? That's one convincing cat when he wants to be. Also, you shouldn't be hogging talent like that all to yourself, it should be spread to others. Share the joy. If sharin' the joy isn't your thing, then don't go out with such generous people, is all I've got to say." He slapped Nick's shoulder with a worn-out comic, and sauntered towards the door.

"Generous isn't the word I would use for it," Nick called after him. "Was it me, do you think? Was it something *I* did? God, I hope this doesn't mean I'm no good in bed..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," AJ's disgusted voice floated back to him. "Get over it, Carter!" Then the door swung shut, and for five blessed minutes, Nick was alone. Someone wandered by the front window who looked a lot like the Superman guy from before, but he didn't come in. The phone ringing was so unexpected, he almost fell off the stool.

"What?" he said, snatching it up on the second ring. "I mean -- fuck -- Beyond Comics, Nick speaking, can I help you?"

"Helloooooo," a high, squeaky voice quavered. "Young man, I'm looking for the first edition of Spiderman, it came out when I was a boy, and I can't say I appreciate such shocking language from you! What has *happened* to customer service in this day and age?"

"Sorry, sorry," said Nick quickly, wincing. "I'm having a bad day. That's a really rare comic, we don't really carry that kind of thing. You'd be better off contacting private collectors or E-bay or something. We do have a listing of private collectors in the area if you're interested in coming by, though?" He hoped that sounded professional enough. Something about that voice, though...

"I don't know," the voice answered querulously, "I think I might have to speak to your manager. Using language like that to a customer!" The voice faltered, then broke, and familiar laughter rang down the line. "Oh my god, you fucking pussy! I can't believe you apologized!"

"You ASShole," Nick snapped. "I can't believe you just did that to me. What's wrong with you, anyway? Were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"Probably." Chris's voice was merrily unapologetic. "Oh my god, that rocked. I can't belive I had you even for a second! I was totally laughing the whole time! You're one gullible motherfucker, Nicky." The voice turned wheedling. "Anyway, you were bored, right? You still are, right? I bet you want to loan me your car."

If you were naked in the middle of an anthill and covered in honey, I would still not loan you my car to get away," said Nick. "What do you need my car for? You're *working*, in case you forgot. Which no doubt you did."

"Work is just a state of mind," Chris said solemnly. "Plus, it's for a good cause. I want to go to Ben Jamieson's funeral. It's today, you know. This very afternoon, in fact, and it's definitely not in walking distance."

"Ben Jamieson's funeral?" said Nick. "Ben Jamieson died? When did Ben Jamieson die? How?"

"Dude, you didn't know? He died mowing his lawn. Poor guy, had some kind of undetected heart condition, keeled right over in the middle of the nasturtium bed and the mower--it was one of those automatic dealies--chopped its way right through the neighbor's baby spruce hedge." Chris clucked. "It was in all the papers two days ago, where the fuck were you?"

"At work, unlike some people," said Nick. "Why didn't anyone TELL me?" He slumped down on his stool and rested his head on his hands. "Didn't you think I'd want to know that sort of thing? Where's the funeral?"

"At Sacred Heart, over on Benetti Street," Chris answered promptly. "Hey, you guys weren't tight or anything, were you? I'd've said it differently if I'd known you didn't know. You gonna loan me your car, or what?"

"No," said Nick. "I'm not gonna loan you my care. I'm going to drive. What time's it at?"

"Twelve thirty. Dude. You're gonna close the comic shop? You NEVER close the comic shop." There was real shock in Chris's voice. "Hey, were you seriously close with this guy? I only knew him to say hey in the hallways in, like, eighth grade."

"I fucked him," said Nick. "Or the other way round. Anyway, once you're with a guy, you're kind of obligated to go to his funeral, right? So I'm going. I'll put up a note or something. Is that how you do it?"

"Holy shit." Chris was silent for a whole five seconds. "Wow. Yeah, you just put up the closed sign, you can make a note about when we'll be back if you want. Dude. You fucked a dead guy. Hang on, I'm on my way over." Before Nick could respond, Chris had hung up.

Holy shit, he fucked a dead guy. That was really fucking weird. He dug around for a black pen and some paper, and wrote a note while he waited for the tinkle of the door to signal that Chris had arrived.

Chris came through the door at top speed, crazy hair all over the place, still rattling his keys from the video store and talking a mile a minute the moment the door closed. "Did he have heart palpitations or anything when you were doing it? Any signs of impending death?"

Nick made a show of checking his pulse. "I fucked a dead guy," he said, shaking his head. "That's weird. I'm too young to have fucked a dead guy. Are you ready to go already?"

"He's too young to BE a dead guy, and I was born ready." Chris lead the way right back out the door. "I'm very proud of you, closing the store for something like this. Good for you. So, give me details, man. Was this a while ago, or recently, or what?"

"It was a while ago," said Nick, taking up the note with some used chewing gum and banging it for good measure. "Like, before JC. Do we have to talk about this? He's a dead guy."

"We're on our way to his funeral, ass. Least we could do is remember the dead in a positive way. Sex is a pretty positive thing, I'd say, unless he really sucked. Of course we have to talk about it." Chris slipped into Nick's boat of a car easily, and fastened his seatbelt. "It's not like he died WHILE you were fucking him."

Nick shuddered. "That," he said. "Is a disgusting thought. You just wipe that from your head right now. He was okay. He wasn't JC or anything, but then, who is? I can't believe he's dead."

"Crazy." Chris let him drive for a while in silence. "Is JC really all that and a bag of chips? Seriously? I mean, you're even speaking ill of the dead to praise him."

"Would I even be thinking of going back to him if he wasn't?" said Nick reasonably. Not that he was thinking of going back to him. Anymore. Much. "I'm not a slave to my libido, or anything, but there are some things that are just irresistable."

"I'll take your word for it, dude," Chris said, clearly dubious. "I think the fact that the guy's clearly the antichrist would be more than enough reason to stay away, but hey, that's just me. Sex is good, and good sex is great, but there's always better sex out there somewhere. Hopefully with someone who won't cheat on you, or die, or whatever."

"I," said Nick solemnly, "have the worst taste in men. You were right. Did you say that? If you said that, you were right, and it's not like I say that to you every day. Where are all the good ones hiding, anyway? Are there secret gay communes that i know nothing about?"

"If there are, I sure as hell don't know about 'em," Chris answered. "You do have shitty taste in men. Women, too. There are good ones out there, you just gotta, y'know, look. And quit thinking with your dick. Just cause someone gives great head, doesn't mean they'll make a decent boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever."

"I don't JUST go for that," insisted Nick. "But you've got to admit, sexual compatibility is a pretty important factor in getting together with someone. I mean, they can have the best personality in the world, but if you don't mesh in bed, then something ain't right with the relationship."

"No, true," Chris agreed. "But you can't JUST go for the sex, either. You've gotta find that mix, man. Personality plus. Or you just end up getting screwed, like, no offense, with JC. You can have a good sex life without dating a total slut."

"I still wonder how YOU know anything about that?" Nick challenged him, because it was easier than admitting he was right. "LIke you've ever had a successful relationship that wasn't based on how hot a girl was, or how good she was in bed."

"I've never had a successful relationship at all," Chris admitted, "but I was never really going for it like you do. I've been watching you date for years, man, I'm an expert! You go for the pretty, sexy, talented in bed, who EVERYone wants to fuck, and then you act all shocked when it turns out they're practicing their art with more than just you." He shook his head. "You'd think you'd've learned by now."

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