Days in the Life of... Nick O'Flaherty: Deuce Does Boston ~ Day 2

***THIS STORY WILL EVENTUALLY CONTAIN SEXUALLY EXPICIT CONTENT***

SATURDAY - 26 May 2012

It was almost an hour later than when Deuce told Nick he would get back to the yacht after the conference ended and he already had two texts and a missed call from the other man on his cell phone. The first a casual Hey, I'm making dinner, don't eat anything from before the conference was even over, and the second a more frantic sounding D, where the fuck are you?! Deuce hadn't discovered the second message until he was well on his way to the harbor, so he decided to just keep ignoring them and show up at Nick's door. It wasn't his fault that some colleagues backed him against a wall and kept talking business despite the fact that Deuce just wanted to get out of there and get back to Nick's place.

"Hey, I'm finally back!" He called out as he stepped through the door of the yacht, a soft moan leaving his lips at the smells coming from the galley. "Holy shit that smells amazing!" he continued as he walked into the galley, clasping Nick on the shoulder in greeting as he took in more of the amazing smells that was coming from the small room.

When Nick looked up and just gave him a look for being so late, a look that was so eerily reminiscent of the looks that Ty had given him multiple times over the years, he just shrugged it off as he turned to go downstairs. "I'm gonna go change and then I'll come help."

The moment he started downstairs, the doctor started stripping; the tie he loathed was the first to go, quickly followed by his shirt and dress pants as he walked into the guest room. "Hmm..." he murmured to himself as he went through his bag, cursing the fact that he hadn't brought more casual clothes with him. He had been in conference mode when he packed, at the last minute of course, and the casual side of his wardrobe had been almost abandoned for dress pants and button up shirts. Thankfully he had the right mind to pack at least one pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts. He pulled on the jeans as he rummaged through his bag for a shirt, shrugging slightly as he pulled on a faded and thread-bare USMC t-shirt that he'd had for years and ran his fingers through his hair before making his way upstairs, hanging on tightly to the railing as his leg throbbed and protested the fact that he'd been on his feet most of the day.

"How was your day?" He asked as he made his way into the galley, leaning against the counter as he watched Nick move around with well-practiced ease.

"Fucking insane! I hate working weekends. I swear the crazies bide their time all week and the moment it's Saturday and I'm on duty they all decide together that today will be Fuck with Officer O'Flaherty Day. I love my job, I do, but its days like today that make me just want to scream 'fuck it' and become a professional fisherman." Nick laughed as he looked over at Deuce who was barely holding back his laughter.

"Hey, at least you're never bored, right?"

"I guess that's one way of looking at it. How were things at the conference Dr. I'm-over-an-hour-late-and-couldn't-call?" Nick's eyes were sparkling with amusement as he crossed over to the refrigerator to grab a few more ingredients, unable to resist giving Deuce a little ribbing about his tardiness.

"Oh, you know the usual. Talking about new types of therapies and new drugs, went to a few lectures, and gave a lecture after lunch, nothing too life-changing..." he trailed off as he watched Nick chopping an onion, cringing a bit at how he was going at it.

"Are you trying to cut your fucking fingers off?!" Deuce may have been banned from cutting things in his mother's kitchen thanks to years of knife-caused accidents, but thanks to those years of experience he knew when blood was about to start flowing and there was going to be a trip to the emergency room with part of a finger in a baggie of ice.

"Stop. Just stop!" he insisted when Nick ignored him and kept working on the onion. He crossed the galley, his chest pressing against Nick's back, the galley not made for two men of their size. He reached over and placed his hand over the one holding the knife, squeezing it gently to get Nick to stop before he hurt himself. What he didn't expect was the jolt that ran up his arm at the skin to skin contact, unable to bring himself to let go just yet.

"D?" The questioning tone of Nick's voice caused Deuce to look down, his breath hitching slightly when Nick's clear green eyes met his own and Deuce’s tongue darted out to nervously lick his lips.

"How about I get us some drinks?" Deuce pulled away from Nick, instantly distancing himself as he walked over to the liquor cabinet that he had spied the day before. Oh yeah, he needed a stiff drink before his body decided it wanted a piece of a stiff something else. No, no he was just tired and over-thinking things. He was straight and hadn't even kissed a guy while sober, so those didn't count, right? Yet there was something that kept pulling Nick into his thoughts, something he couldn't explain.

"No, stop it..." he muttered softly to himself as he fixed their drinks, his back to the galley as he tried to pull himself together. This was Nick, the guy he'd known since he was 21, the guy that was his brother’s best friend. Even if he had been bisexual, not that he wasn't curious, Nick was so far off limits that it wasn't funny. But that didn't stop his brain from working in overdrive as he turned and passed the glass of whiskey to Nick, managing to school his face into an easy smile.

"So, when do we eat?"

Nick’s heart was pounding so hard the sound nearly drowned out D’s question, “Ah, this just has to simmer for about fifteen more minutes.” He tipped back the squat glass Deuce had handed him and downed the amber liquid in one shot. He set the glass down with an unsteady hand causing it to clatter harder then he’d meant it to on the granite counter top. He turned his attention back to the simmering pot of homemade tomato sauce, picking up the wooden spoon to give it a good stir while rubbing his stomach with his other hand.

Fuck he felt nervous. Why was he so fucking nervous? Nick O’Flaherty never got nervous. Never. He concentrated on dislodging meatballs as he looking into the red depths of the pot. Who was he kidding? He knew why he was suddenly all in a flutter. Deuce. Ok yeah, he’d felt an appeal towards D for awhile, and yeah ever since Nick came home from work yesterday to find the handsome doctor sitting on his couch that appeal seemed to blossom. Fuck, over dinner and drinks last night he was practically harboring a full bouquet of attraction for the guy, but fuck, when D had touched him…the slight press of his body against Nick’s back, the long fingers that settled over Nick’s left hand giving it a lingering squeeze, and Jesus when their eyes had met. Nick swallowed hard, remembering the shock that had rocked through him when D had licked his full lips. Any other man, any other man at all besides his best friends brother and he would have pulled him into a kiss. Jesus this was Deuce Grady he was thinking about. Straight. Ty’s brother. Fuck.

“Do you wanna finish up making the Salad since you clearly think my knife skills aren’t up to par?” Nick teased over his shoulder, “I’m gonna throw the garlic bread in and get the noodles boiling.”

“Good idea,” Deuce answered, pushing off from the counter as he set his scotch aside and made his way to the discarded vegetables on the cutting board, “I don’t really care for plasma dressing.”

Nick snorted as he set the wooden spoon down on a paper towel, “Just so you know, if I’d cut myself I know how to stitch it up.”

Deuce dumped a small handful of sliced onion overtop of the lettuce in the large wooden bowl, “I’d rather you didn’t have to prove that theory.”

“Fair enough,” Nick watched as Deuce pulled some baby carrots out of the bag Nick had left on the counter earlier. D lined a few up neatly and began to expertly chop them.

“So,” Nick began as he scooted past Deuce, wanting desperately to touch but giving himself a wide enough berth to dispel that urge. He opened the cabinet door and pulled out a box of spaghetti, “This guy walks into a bar…”

Deuce stopped cutting and groaned, rolling his head back on his shoulders before looking at Nick, “Please, no. I’ve had a really long day.”

Nick chuckled, closed the cabinet and pointed the slim box of pasta at Deuce, “You’ll like this one, I swear.”

Deuce gave a long suffering sigh before focusing back on the carrots, “Go on.”

“Ok,” Nick continued with a smile as he opened the flap on the box and dumped the noodles into the boiling water, “So this guy walks into a bar and sits down. He orders a drink, then he orders another, and another,” Nick forced the softening pasta farther into the water with a spoon, “and so on until he’s fucking loaded and the bartender has to ask him to leave.” Nick went over to the freezer and pulled out the garlic bread, pausing to look at D and becoming momentarily transfixed.

Deuce tipped the cutting board over the salad bowl, sliding his perfectly chopped carrots into the mixture with the edge of the knife. He looked over at Nick, “So the bartender asks him to leave? Is that it? That was bad, even for you.”

Nick laughed, “Nah, I just got,” he motioned towards his head and gave it a shake. “So yeah, the bartender asks him to leave and the drunk walks out of the side door.”

Nick broke the frozen loaf apart and placed the two halves on a cookie sheet and slid it into the oven, “A minute later the guy walks back in the front door, sits down, orders a drink. The bartender kicks him out again, so he leaves through the side door” Nick faced D who was leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face, “A minute later, here comes that fucker again through the front door, sits down, orders a drink, again the bartender tells him to get the fuck out. So, this happens like four more fucking times yeah?” he paused and Deuce gives him a little nod with raised eyebrows, waiting for the punch line. “Finally,” Nick continued, “when the barkeep tells him to leave for like the seventh time or something, the guy screams, ‘What the fuck buddy! How many fucking bars do you work at?!”

“Bad,” Deuce shook his head as he turned back to the salad to give it a good toss, but there was a smile on his face that warmed Nick’s heart more than it should, “Just bad. Where do you come up with these things? I know that wasn’t in that joke book from your eight year old nephew.”

“I’ve got a few stored up on my own,” Nick answered as he looked at Deuce’s back, watching the muscles bunch under the thin cotton as he mixed. D looked hot as hell in that tattered tee, and Nick imagined briefly that it was his old USMC shirt that Deuce was wearing, and man that thought turned him on for some reason. Probably because of what would have lead up to D borrowing it? Nick swallowed hard and turned away before his dick decided to latch on to where his imagination was taking him.

They were silent for a several minutes as Nick stirred the pasta, then finally pulled a spoon out of the utensil drawer and dipped it into the sauce. He blew on the gravy before giving it a taste followed by a satisfied hum, “Oh, yeah, I put fucking Emeril to shame man.”

Deuce snorted, “You’re so modest Nick, really, it astounds me sometimes what a low opinion you have of your abilities.”

“Come here, taste it,” Nick said.

“No.” Deuce shook his head.

“Just come here,” Nick gripped, dipping the spoon into the sauce again, giving it a soft blow before holding it out in Deuce’s direction, cupping his right hand underneath to capture any drippings.

Deuce sighed and took the few steps over, “Why can’t I just wait until it’s actually on my plate.”

“Just try,” Nick said, “I want to hear you moan in pleasure now.” God how true that statement was. Of course Nick would rather hear D moaning because of talents he possessed other than his cooking skills.

Deuce glared at him a moment before leaning forward to accept Nick’s offerings. Nick watched as Deuce’s full lips closed over the spoon and slid down the silver. Deuce licked his lips clean, “Alright, I’ll give it to you, that’s good man.”

Nick couldn’t answer, his gaze transfixed on that luscious mouth. As D licked his lips again, Nick’s gut clenched with desire. Fuck he wanted to know what those lips tasted like. What Deuce tasted like. Nick licked his lips unconsciously in response and suddenly became aware of how quiet the kitchen had become. Jesus Christ he’d been staring at Deuce’s mouth for entirely too long, the guy was probably ready to run for fucking cover. Nick slid his eyes up over the perfect planes of Deuce’s face expecting to meet his hazel gaze and was surprised to find D’s focus on Nick’s mouth instead. Nick’s heart rate picked up as his cock started screaming at him to make a move. He imagined taking a step forward to bridge the small gap between them. Imagined pressing his mouth to D’s, pushing him back against the counter and delving deep into that sinful mouth. He started to lean forward just as the buzzer sounded on the stove indicating the bread and pasta were done.

Deuce jumped slightly and turned away, “I’ll set the table.”

“Ah, yeah ok.” Nick blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, “Why don’t we eat up on the flybridge? It’s gorgeous out.”

“Good idea,” Deuce answered, clearing his throat as he opened and closed a few cabinets before pulling down two plates and gathering napkins, utensils and the salad bowl, “I’ll just…” he motioned towards the pilothouse of the boat where the steps were located that lead to the top deck.

“Yeah,” Nick answered, unable to make eye contact, “Go relax when you’re done, I’ll finish up in here and bring the rest out. There’s Guinness in the fridge out there if that’s ok.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Deuce answered, hurrying out of the galley with a slight limp.

Fuck, what had just happened? Deuce was thinking about kissing Nick too, Nick was sure of it, but that didn’t make sense. Did it?

The moment that Deuce stepped foot on the deck, he placed the dinnerware on the table with a soft thump before dropping onto the corner of the bench seat. What the fuck had just happened?! Nick had almost kissed him. Hell, he had almost kissed Nick. If that damned timer hadn't gone off... Deuce shook his head to clear his thoughts as he pushed himself up from the table, setting the plates and bowls in their proper places, quickly adding the silverware and napkins before going across the deck, grabbing himself a beer from the fridge and leaning against the railing, staring off at the water.

There was nothing wrong with kissing another guy, or wanting to kiss another guy, he'd told patients and his own brother that time and time again. But Deuce wanting to kiss another guy while he was completely sober? Oh yeah, that was new for him. "What are you doing, Deacon...?" he asked himself softly as he took a long drink of his beer, trying to make sense of what was going on in his head, and in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably as he tried to convince his cock that being interested wasn't the best course of action right now. Nick was his brother’s best friend and getting involved would just lead to something exploding, he could already see it happening. He sat the beer down on the table before running his fingers through his hair. "Think of Livi, think of Livi," he muttered softly to himself. He closed his eyes and brought his girlfriends face to his mind, his brow furrowing when her pretty smiling face was soon replaced by a familiar handsome man with dark reddish blond hair and green eyes.

Oh yeah, he was screwed.

Deuce barely acknowledged Nick when he heard him come up the stairs behind him, the smell of the freshly made spaghetti sauce assaulting his nose as the breeze wafted in his direction. He stayed where he was, quietly listening to Nick putting the bowls of food down on the table as he played with a stray thread on the sleeve of his worn t-shirt. He realized, a bit belatedly, exactly how thin and tight the shirt had gotten over the years, and the way he could feel eyes on his back he had a feeling that Nick had noticed too. When Nick brushed their shoulders together, Deuce closed his eyes, that faint touch sending sparks throughout his entire body. He was barely aware that the other man was speaking to him until he felt Nick's hand move to his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"D? You okay?"

"Hmm? Oh sorry, lost in thought and just enjoying the view," he motioned toward the water as he pushed himself back from the railing. "What's up?"

Nick laughed softly as he pulled on Deuce's shoulder, turning him toward the table. "Food. Food is up." Along with other things, Deuce shook that thought away.

Deuce allowed himself to be led over to the table, finishing his beer before grabbing one for Nick and another one for himself. "Smells fucking amazing!" Despite the awkwardness that had occurred between them earlier, there was no way that Deuce was going to let good food go to waste.

He settled into the bench seat, waiting for Nick to join him before he started to dish the food onto his plate, his hunger overtaking his manners as he served himself instead of waiting for Nick. He flushed a little when he realized what he had done, his eyes meeting Nick's across the table as he swallowed the bite of spaghetti that he had taken. "Oh god, Nick, I'm sorry! That was rude of me!"

Nick laughed softly as he shook his head. "No, you're the guest, you eat first."

"Guest or not, Ma would have been smacking me in the back of the head with one of her many spatulas if she had seen me act like that." Deuce laughed as he relaxed into his chair, taking a bite of the garlic bread, smiling as the tension between the two of them started to fade. Deuce found himself staring across the table at Nick, biting his lower lip as he watched the other man eat, unable to keep himself from watching as the fork left his lips with every bite. Get it together, Grady. This is bordering on freaky behavior. He mentally chided himself as he forced himself to pull his eyes away, focusing instead on his rapidly disappearing plate of food, hoping that Nick hadn't noticed where he had been looking for the past several minutes.

It took every ounce of will-power that Deuce had, but he managed to keep his eyes and his hands to himself as they finished their meal in companionable silence, only risking a look at Nick once their plates had been cleared. Deuce shook his head when Nick got to his feet to start to clear the table. "No, stop. Let me. You cooked dinner and you've had a long day at work, let me take care of the dishes."

“Nah, it’s alright D, I got this.”

"Hey, I'm not taking no for an answer!" Deuce insisted as he got to his feet, taking the plates from the table. "Just relax, okay?" He limped slightly as he made his way down to the galley, a slight smile on his face as he tended to the dishes, relaxing as he went through the familiar motions that he'd done a million times at home when Ty had always managed to talk his way out of it. Deuce didn't mind however, he always found that doing the dishes was relaxing and even though he had a dishwasher in Philly, he still preferred to do them the old-fashioned way to give him time to think. Of course, thinking probably wasn't the best thing for him right now since his thoughts kept drifting out to the man that was sitting up on the deck. He found that the more he thought about Nick, the more he enjoyed thinking about him. It was crazy and a very bad idea, but it was getting to where he didn't care... as long as everything stayed in his head, things would be okay.

"Hmm..." a slight grin crossed Deuce's face as he crossed the kitchen to the freezer, pulling out the container of Chubby Hubby that he had discovered the night before. "And we have dessert!" He pulled over a couple of bowls, dishing some ice cream in each before going back to the refrigerator, pulling out a can of whipped cream, adding a twirl to each bowl before cursing the fact that Nick didn't seem to have any cherries anywhere.

"Good enough." the grin stayed in place as he placed a spoon in each bowl, making his way back outside, sitting a bowl down in front of Nick. "Dessert is served!" He squeezed Nick's shoulder before joining him at the table, unable to resist touching him. "Found it in the freezer, hope you don't mind."

“No, no of course not.” Nick smiled, trying to shake his thoughts.

While Deuce had gone in to do the dishes Nick’s mind had gone in a desolate direction. When he’d come out earlier to serve dinner and had seen D standing at the railing like that looking…well bewildered might be a good description, Nick had felt awful. He’d almost fucking kissed Deuce in that kitchen, and if that damned timer didn’t go off he damn well would have. The problem was at the time he’d thought D had wanted him to, but that was ridiculous, of course he didn’t want that. Nick was probably just projecting his own desires onto Deuce, seeing what he wanted to see, and damn, now he’d gone and made Deuce uncomfortable. Of course D was trying to be nice and play that shit off, but Nick had seen the look on his face as D stared out at the water. Deuce was bothered.

He took a quick glance over at Deuce as they ate their ice cream in silence. He’d be better. He’d stop with the sexual innuendo crap and stop fixating on how much Deuce turned him on physically and mentally. The last thing he’d ever want to do was hurt Deuce or make him uncomfortable. D was too good a man and becoming too good a friend to Nick, and hell Nick liked him a lot he didn’t want to lose whatever it was they had going. Besides, Nick had promised Ty he’d be a gentleman to his brother while he was in Boston.

“This is really good,” Deuce commented.

“You never had it before?” Nick asked as he took in another mouthful. Nick normally loved Chubby Hubby, he could eat two pints easily, but now he was having a hard time getting down a few bites. It was oddly tasteless, as dinner had been, and Nick’s stomach wasn’t feeling right.

“No never,” Deuce studied the dollop of ice cream on his spoon, “what are these, pretzels in here?”

“Oh yeah,” Nick nodded, “chocolate covered and peanut butter filled. It’s like an orgasm in your mouth.” Fuck. That last part just slipped out.

Deuce snorted, “Does everything always lead back to sex with you O’Flaherty?”

How about I lead you to my bedroom and you can find out. Nick shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying that out loud. Jesus, couldn’t he control himself for five God damned minutes? What was he a caveman?

Deuce raised an eyebrow, as if he could hear Nick’s thoughts and was just waiting for him to say them. Nick looked at him for a moment, struck by those mesmerizing hazel eyes that were so like Ty’s yet so unlike Ty’s at the same time. Deuce’s had more green in them and they were softer somehow. Nick got a fluttery feeling in his stomach, not for the first time since Deuce had arrived, and rubbed his belly. What the fuck was that? He pushed his bowl away, unable to eat anymore. He must be coming down with something.

“You okay?” Deuce asked.

“Yeah, just…” Nick shrugged, “Not feeling very well. Rico told me not to eat those tacos that dude was peddling out of the back of his minivan.”

“Yeah,” Deuce laughed, “You probably should have taken your partners advice. Food sold out of a passenger vehicle can’t be up to code.”

“Yeah,” Nick nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the horizon.

“Maybe you should go lie down.” Deuce said after a moment.

And miss a minute with you? Not a chance, “Nah. I’m ok.” Nick took in a breath and began bouncing his leg on the ball of his foot. It was a habit of his, a way to get rid of nervous energy. Or pent up sexual tension. One of the other.

When Nick heard the clang of D’s spoon hitting empty bowl he glanced at him, “Do you wanna go in and watch the game?”

“Red Sox?” Deuce asked, and then smiled when Nick gave him a look like I can’t believe you just asked that question. “Yeah ok, if I have to. I’ll just wash these up first.”

“Oh no,” Nick stood, collecting the bowls, “You washed the dinner dishes.”

“Yeah but you cooked, it was only right,” Deuce stepped towards Nick and put a hand on each bowl, “And I dished dessert without asking.”

Nick didn’t let go, and their eyes met and held once more. Nick swallowed as his damn stomach felt all funny again. It was as if he’d swallowed a jar of fireflies. Or…or a flock of butterflies? Nick released the bowls suddenly, tuning away to head inside. “You win.”

Butterflies. Really? Is that why people said that? Recon didn’t get butterflies. Fucking Nick O’Flaherty didn’t get fucking butterflies just like he didn’t get nervous! What was he turning into a fucking fourteen year old girl for fucks sake? Damn Deuce. Damn Deuce and his sparkling eyes and his perfect fucking face and his full lips. Damn Deuce and his smile and the way he laughed at Nick’s jokes. Damn him for the way he took Nick’s wise ass ways in stride and gave it right back to him. Damn the way he could make Nick feel at ease and so damn good with just a few words or a look. Damn him for being so fucking easy to be around and fun and honorable and good and so God damned sexy. Damn him for making Nick want him and for being the kind of person Nick could see himself settling down with yet was unable to have. And damn him especially for giving Nick God damned fucking butterflies!

Nick stalked into the galley and yanked the refrigerator door open, grabbed two beers, popped their tops than stalked into the salon. He set one beer on the coffee table near one end of the couch and plopped down way on the other side. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this again. Falling for a man he had no chance of reciprocation with. What the fuck was it with these Grady boys? Did they give off pheromones that were irresistible to Nick? Jesus, just when he’d felt like he was getting over Ty he was going to be consumed by his little brother? Not that he was over Ty completely, Nick didn’t think he’d ever fully shake that stubborn bastard from his heart, but he’d come to a comfortable acceptance. The longing wasn’t there anymore, and he was truly happy just to have Ty in his life as his best friend.

It probably started a few months ago, after he’d kissed Ty. It was like a closing of a chapter or something. Finally finishing a book he’d started to read a very long time ago even of it didn’t necessarily have the ending Nick had hoped for. But three weeks ago, when he’d spent the weekend with Ty and Zane, something sort of clicked into place. Maybe it was seeing the way Ty and Zane looked together, looked at each other, that changed something in Nick’s heart. Watching them together was like witnessing a true partnership in every sense of the word. They were completely in sync without needing words. The trust, the love there was palpable, and Nick found himself longing for that. Not that he wanted to replace Zane and have Ty for himself; he wanted to find that with someone other than Ty for the first time in his adult life.

Strangely, that release of the hold Ty had held on his heart for so long had taken his and Ty’s friendship to a whole other level, breathing new life into it. And after the good talk and fun the three of them had shared, and knowing how happy Zane made his best friend, Nick had also forged a new found bond with that man as well. He now counted Zane right up there in trust and friendship with the rest of Team Sidewinder. Hell, at this point Zane had even surpassed Owen on that list.

He’d come home from that weekend feeling free in a way. His heart no longer ached for Ty, and he’d gained a new comrade in the process. Things were starting to right themselves in Nick’s mind, at least on a romantic level, and for the first time in a long time he actually believed he’d find someone. He’d have what Ty and Zane had one day, he just had to be patient. In the mean time he was truly happy that his friends had found it with one another.

God damn, he had no idea that just three weeks later he’d find the kind of man he’s been waiting for. Problem was it was Ty’s little brother. Ty’s straight brother. Who had a girlfriend. Yeah, completely and utterly off limits. Roger that.

The object of his affection walked into the room and sat down. “What’s the score?”

Nick frantically searched the top left hand of the screen. What was the score? Jesus Christ, had he really been sitting here while the Sox were playing and contemplating love and relationships? Fuck, he was turning into a fourteen year old girl.

“Ah, zero to zero.” He answered belatedly.

“I see that for myself now, thank you.” Deuce smirked, taking a swallow from his bottle. “You really must not be feeling well.”

“No, I’m not,” Nick couldn’t meet D’s eyes. He focused on the TV and willed his brain to concentrate on baseball. Hey, Podsednik was looking really good this year. What was his average? .429 with a belly full of butterflies and a cock that wouldn't go down? I’m fucked. Nick rubbed his stomach and downed his beer in one long chug. Maybe he’d get the fuckers drunk and they’d pass the hell out and stop flying around. Nick stood up to get another beer.

“Need another?” He asked D, his focus on Deuce’s hairline instead of those damn hazel eyes. Deuce had such thick shiny brown hair. Nick liked how he wore it a little longer. He really wanted to run his fingers through it to see how it felt.

Deuce held up his nearly full bottle to show Nick, “No I’m good.”

Nick went into the galley and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, popped the top and downed it while leaning against the counter. He opened the door to grab another, then thought better of it and grabbed bottled water instead. He tended to act more on impulse under the influence and he hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time he wanted to kiss a man who didn’t want him back. Luckily that worked out ok in the end; this time, probably not so much.

“You know,” D said as Nick sat back down on the sofa, “If you want to lie down up here, I could go down to my room and work on some stuff…I mean of you wanted to be alone or something.”

“God no! No, I want you with me. I mean I…I” Nick shook his head. Smooth, real smooth. “It’s nice to have company. I’m alone here so much…”

“Okay.” Deuce nodded, and then turned his head to look back at the TV.

Fuck Nick! What is wrong with you? Nick thought, Get it the fuck together. Ten hut marine!

They sat mostly in silence, only the occasional groan at a bad play or a positive acknowledgement of a good one breaking the hushed atmosphere. When the game was over, Deuce turned slightly in his seat to face Nick.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, “Besides your sick stomach I mean. Are you still not sleeping well? You seem…tense.”

“No I’m fine, I just…,” Want to fuck you through the mattress. Want to hear you say my name when you come. Want to possibly marry you and adopt little Asian babies and blow you without my denture when we’re old. What the fuck?! “No, I haven’t been sleeping, but that’s no big, I’m used to running on three hours of sleep a night. What does your brother always say? Sleep is over rated?”

“If you’re taking advice from my brother I may have to commit you.” Deuce quirked his lips, “Seriously though, three hours is not enough, especially in your career. And I’m willing to bet those three hours aren’t exactly peaceful slumber.”

Nick shrugged and looked down at the water bottle in his hand as he began to twist and crunch it.

“Did you make an appointment with Doctor Weinstein like I suggested?”

Nick shook his head and looked over at Deuce, “Nah, not yet. I’m not so sure about talking to a woman.” He gave a half hearted smile, “She’s just gonna fall in love with me and defeat the whole purpose.”

Deuce smirked, “She’s fifty five and she’s a lesbian, I think she’s safe from your charms.”

“I’ve been known to poach a few from the other team.” And wouldn’t that be a beautiful statement if it were true; especially if Deuce was a free agent.

Deuce sighed and shook his head, “Well, if I can’t convince you to give her a call, you can always talk to me you know?”

“Yeah, I know D, thanks. But really I’m good.”

Deuce didn’t appear convinced, but he let the subject drop as they sat there for a few minutes.

“So,” Deuce said with a smile, “I was looking at the pictures down stairs in the hall. You’re just like Ty, all of those memories from the service proudly displayed.”

“Yeah,” Nick smiled back, thankful for the change in direction, though not completely off the track from where his nightmares originated, “Those are just the PG versions though.”

Deuce snorted, “Oh, I can imagine.”

Nick stood and slapped D’s knee as he passed, intending to go get the old photo album out of the closet in his bedroom from his active duty days, “’I’ve got something for ya.”

As Nick reached the top of the steps Deuce called to him, “It better not be a fucking dildo or I’m throwing you overboard.”

Nick laughed hardily as he descended. His reply of, I’d rather give you the real thing baby neatly kept in check. Maybe he could be a gentleman after all.

Deuce rested his head back against the couch, shaking his head slightly as he watched Nick make his way downstairs. He was worried. Nick hadn’t been himself since that almost kiss and Deuce had a feeling he knew why. Or at least he thought he did. Deuce knew that he hadn’t handled the almost kiss as well as he could have and with the way that Nick snuck up on him up on the deck, there was no way that he had missed the look that was in Deuce’s eyes. He knew that it couldn’t have looked good to Nick, but the fact that Nick was thinking the worst was killing him. He was trying to think of some way that he could let Nick know that things were okay without actually coming out and saying it, just in case he was over-thinking things when it came to the other man. What if Nick had just been his usual flirty self and was just teasing him like usual? What if he had just been going in for a fake kiss to psyche Deuce out?

No, no Deuce knew that wasn’t true. If that damned timer hadn’t gone off, he would have moved closer and Nick would have kissed him and dinner would have been burnt to a crisp and they’d probably be laughing and joking about it on the couch right about now. He lifted the nearly empty bottle of beer to his lips, finishing it off before getting to his feet, making his way into the galley, tossing the empty bottle into the trash can before leaning against the counter with a sigh.

“Fucking timer.” He gave the stove a dirty glower, suddenly understanding why Ty had shot their Ma’s oven so many years ago. Despite the fact that it gave amazing food, the timer just made the entire stove nothing but pure evil. If they had moved a little faster, or the timer had waited just a few more seconds… but that didn’t matter now. They had missed their chance and trying to recapture that moment would be useless. They had moved past it and onto the awkwardness… an awkwardness that Deuce was trying to get to disappear. He and Nick had always been comfortable around one another and he just wanted that back.

Deuce looked up when he heard Nick’s footsteps on the stairs, moving over to the refrigerator to get himself something to drink before joining the other man on the couch. His fingers hesitated on another bottle of beer before moving over a few inches and grabbing a can of Dr. Pepper instead. He made his way back into the other room, moving closer to where Nick had been sitting, not wanting that distance between them anymore.

When Nick came back up he sat closer to Deuce and placed the photo album on the couch between them. As they flipped through the laminate pages that were turning yellow with age, it seemed Nick had a good story to accompany each group of shots. Some longer than others, some serious, a lot of them action packed, but nearly all of them had a comedic twist that left Deuce laughing.

There was the infamous picture of Nick in woman’s underwear, fishnet stockings and heels that he explained was the result of a bet he’d placed with Ty that Ty wouldn’t kiss the sole of an afghan man’s foot. Both of them wasted on Chester’s moonshine resulted in Ty placing his lips against the dirty and calloused plantar surface which Nick, of course, had a picture of as well. In the shot Ty’s one eye was squeezed shut, the other half open and looking glassy, he held the heel of the smiling afghan man between thumb and index finger, his lips puckered and barely placed against the ball just under the big toe. Nick said they playfully argued afterwards that Ty’s lips weren’t firmly placed enough, but in the end Nick ended up in the red lingerie. One pose was from the back, Nick’s hand on cocked hip, the other was from the front where Nick was bent slightly at the waist and blowing a kiss at the camera. In the background were several marine’s laughing their asses off, some of them even holding out dollar bills.

Another favorite was of Ty in a black thong bikini and combat boots, a cigar in his mouth and holding an AK rifle draped across the top of his shoulders, he was squinting at the camera with the sun in his eyes. The result of another bet, this time Ty on the losing end of whether Nick could steal their Gunny’s black Cadillac’s, as Nick called them, and wear them right in front of the man while carrying on a full conversation without him realizing the boots. Apparently their Gunnery Sergeant was a real stickler about his combats, keeping them in a constant spit shin. Nick laughed as he recalled sitting next to the man in the mess hall, resting back in his chair while Nick crossed and uncrossed his legs ankle to knee without the Sergeant catching on.

They spent nearly three hours looking through the book, Deuce throwing in some of his own youthful antics, a lot of them including Ty of course, and the two men laughed hardily for the majority of that time.

Deuce couldn’t remember the last time that he had laughed so hard. He had heard Ty’s versions of a few of the stories a few times in the past several years, but it was interesting to hear them from Nick’s point of view. Hearing both sides of the story just made them even more entertaining, especially since Nick had added details that Ty had left out; details that would have had Deuce laughing at Ty about for years. He made a mental note to call his brother and try to get the full story out of him, knowing that when he started throwing in details that Ty had never told him that his brother would start cussing both him and Nick out, but it would be worth it.

When he started to yawn and rub his eyes, he risked a glance over at the clock, completely blown away by the fact that it was after midnight. He rubbed his face as Nick closed the photo album, obviously aware of how late it was getting. Deuce wished he could have a few more hours to just sit and chat with Nick, but unfortunately he had an early wake up and a long day planned. It might have been a short day at the conference, but he had plans to go out to dinner afterwards and he knew his friends, they’d probably be out for awhile.

“Sorry, Nick. I hate to cut the fun short, but I’m fucking exhausted.” He looked over at the other man, an apologetic look on his face. “Got an early morning tomorrow.”

Nick reached over and slid the photo album onto the coffee table as he got to his feet, turning to look down at Deuce. “We should both probably try to get some sleep. Or at least I can get comfortable in bed and wait and see what happens.”

Deuce shook his head slightly as he pushed himself up from the couch, tossing his soda can at the trash can as he passed by on his way to the stairs. He waited at the bottom as Nick turned off the TV and the lights. “You really need to get more sleep, Nick…” he said as Nick joined him in the hall.

When he received no answer, he glanced over at the other man, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder gently when they reached the door to the guest cabin. “I’m serious, Nick. This isn’t healthy for you.”

He wasn’t surprised when Nick shrugged the subject off, knowing that it was going to be a constant conversation and argument between the two of them. “I guess this is where I leave you.”

Deuce hesitated as he leaned against the door frame, looking over at Nick. “Thanks for dinner; it was amazing…” he trailed off, not wanting to cross the threshold of his room and step away from the closeness that had formed since they had started chatting on the couch. “And thanks for the stories. It’s just more blackmail to add to the pile I have on my brother!”

They shared a good laugh as Nick clasped Deuce on the shoulder and they looked at each other a moment longer. “Alright, I should get to bed…” he gave Nick a soft smile as he squeezed his forearm gently. “Night Nick…”

“Sleep good…” Nick said before slowly turning away, leaving off his usual ‘buddy’.

Deuce glanced over his shoulder one last time as he stepped into the cabin, only closing the door once the other man had made the short walk to the master suite.

Deuce flopped down on the bed, sighing softly as he tugged his shirt off, tossing it towards his bag, and scratching his shoulder as his thoughts drifted to the man that was getting ready for bed a short distance away. It was so weird, he hadn’t thought about someone this much since he was in college and it made him feel like a kid again. His thoughts were on Nick the entire time he was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. He kicked his pants off, skipping pajama pants as he turned the light off and crawled into bed, his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

“Why can’t I get you off my mind…?” he whispered to the darkness, groaning softly when he felt his cock perk up at the thought of Nick. “Oh god, don’t you start…” he muttered as he double checked the alarm on his phone, doing everything possible to ignore what was going on in his pants, a pang of sadness hitting him as he realized that he only had one more day left in Boston.

Nick was used to not being able to sleep, but this time it wasn’t because he was afraid of what he’d see when he closed his eyes, it was due to the man just down the hall. As they’d stood in the space between their room saying good night, Nick couldn’t help but linger. He’d searched his mind for things he could say, anything to keep Deuce standing there with him. He found he just wasn’t ready to part quite yet. Of course none of the things that came out of his mouth could be what he really longed to say. He wanted desperately to invite Deuce to sleep in his room. Well sleep wasn’t really what he’d had on his mind if he could get D in his bed, but after that, yeah he wanted to sleep curled together.

God, had he ever wanted anyone so desperately? Ty maybe, back in the day when they were serving together and would sleep just a few feet apart, but Nick was realizing he was just a kid then. He was a man now. Like Deuce. Oh yeah, Deuce was a full blooded man, An intriguing, gorgeous fucking man that Nick wanted with every fiber of his being. Damn he wanted that man so bad he could taste it. Taste him. Deuce, Jesus, he was probably…saccharine, delicious and lush. Fuck, Nick always did have a sweet tooth.

Nick groaned as he fluffed his pillows and flopped onto his back. He closed his eyes and saw shiny dark hair worn a little long, matching thick eyebrows over piercing hazel eyes framed with long black lashes. He saw sculpted cheekbones and a perfectly proportioned nose. He saw sinfully full lips just begging to be kissed, licked, sucked on and nibbled.

“I’m fucked,” he uttered to himself as he snaked his hand inside his loose boxer shorts that he only wore to sleep in when he had guests and rubbed his weeping hard on. He felt slightly perverted as he started to slowly jack himself off imagining the man sleeping in the cabin down the short hall. It wouldn’t be the first time Deuce played a starring role in one of Nick’s self loving fantasies, but with him being so close it just felt kind of wrong. And fuck, thinking about Deuce at all in this way was wrong because he was a straight man with a girlfriend. His best friend’s younger brother. The one who was off limits. Yeah. Right. Nick’s dick just couldn’t seem to come to terms with those circumstances though, and Nick was realizing, apparently neither could the rest of him.

Inside the boat (for more pics check out the 'My Crib' Post)