Work Text:
Warren Graham is beyond fucking ready.
For what feels like ages, he’s been planning on writing the ultimate Fall in Love With Me speech and finally (finally) he’s just about ready. Oh, it hasn’t been easy; Warren is a man of science, after all, not a poet. Shakespeare and Frost simply could not help him here. He did not give up, however. No, Warren had simply gone to the closest thing to literature that he did understand -- movies.
He didn’t find much there, either, however. Romance movies have never been Warren’s thing. He tried a few titles, such as Titanic , Love Actually , and The Way He Looks , but had found very little inspiration. He likes sci-fi -- bad sci-fi, and horror, too. Those are the things that capture him, not… dramatic, trope-ridden “romance” films.
The closest thing to a romantic story he knew about and could stomach (besides Star Trek; Warren knows Kirk and Spock had something between them) was Scott Pilgrim. So, he studies and studies and studies, reading the volumes over and over, even watching the, admittedly, inferior movie.
Within the pages, Warren connects with the story, reaching deep within that sympathetic pull to find inspiration worthy of prose.
In Warren’s real-life love story, he is Scott Pilgrim; a generally average nerd-type with good friends. He coasts through life, finding something like happiness in his love for a girl. In Warren’s case, this was Max, who… unlike Knives Chau, was much more interested in skater chicks than she ever was in him. Warren can’t be truly bothered by that, however, and, honestly, he can’t really blame her. The subplot with Knives kind of made him uncomfortable, anyways, and even then, Chloe Price is simply way too cool for Warren not to root for her and Max as a couple. She also happens to be a hella awesome science bud; Warren, much to her chagrin, had her saved in his phone as science bros , and refused to change it for any reason. He supposes this kind of also makes Chloe his Wallace Wells which complicates things, of course, but who cares?
None of that even truly matters -- why make things so convoluted when the only thing that truly matters is Ramona?
Oh, Ramona Flowers. She was beautiful; like a burning fire, she was bright and enthralling and vulnerable . Dangerous. She, in Warren’s eyes, was incredible, and he’ll be damned if Nathan Prescott doesn’t make an incredible Ramona Flowers.
Like Nathan had suffered just a little while ago, a man had Ramona in chains. His cruel, heavy burden pushed on her shoulders until she sat sad and defeated at Gideon’s feet. That part of the story made Warren angry; in Scott Pilgrim and his own life.
Warren knows Nathan was hurt by his father and Mr. Jefferson. It makes his stomach churn and sudden, icy cold realization stills his hands as they grip the third volume of the series. Nathan… flinches away from touch. He always has, even in Warren’s first year at Blackwall. He always figured it was simply because he was a snooty, arrogant type of guy with a ‘ Hand off, peasant! I bite!’ kind of vibe. But now, with Nathan free and Sean Prescott and Mark Jefferson arrested for their crimes, it makes Warren wonder.
No one was really sure what his dad and Mr. Jefferson had done to Nathan besides make him accessory to their crimes. They were the brains and the bank account of the operation, but Nathan was the tool they’d used -- he did the dirty work, he would get caught, they would go free… That didn’t happen, however. Not much, actually, was known about how they’d gotten caught. The aftermath of it all, however, is well known; Nathan may not be in jail, but he does have to go to a fuckton of therapy and wasn’t even able to finish school because of it. What Warren also knows for sure is that for the past year and a half, Nathan has been living with Chloe and her family, and has semi-recently begun to work with Joyce at the Two Whales Diner to help pay for his keep.
Warren goes to the diner almost constantly nowadays, usually taking his laptop with him so could work on his research while being near his muse. Treating it like some kind of experiment or anthropological study or … stake out , was kind of creepy, he admits, but Nathan is so cute in his uniform, and Joyce is a kind woman even if Nathan isn’t on shift, so…
Ah, well. The diner had always been a good place to hang, even before Nathan Prescott had begun to make it better. Though, if Warren is being honest, Nathan’s time at the diner hasn’t been great from Nathan’s point of view. When he first got the job, people were absolutely monstrous to him. Sure, Nathan isn’t the true culprit of the kidnappings, nor is he Rachel Amber’s murderer, but there are sometimes people who just don’t care . People had been hurt, and though Nathan certainly numbered among them, he was still involved in the act of causing harm. It was his daddy’s money, but he was his daddy’s son… And so, Daddy’s weird, pervy photoshoot of death and murder was Nathan’s by inheritance, whether he liked it or not; and people had decided, without caring how Nathan was hurt by the experience, that Nathan had, indeed, liked it.
Which, of course, means that some people are afraid of him.
Warren was never one of those people. He couldn’t fear Nathan, not even at the beginning. When he first showed up at the Diner after the storm and the trials and the trauma and Warren had looked at Nathan and seen his tired, sorry expression, like a man weighed down by his misery, Warren knew he had wanted to be his friend. More visits to the Two Whales while Nathan was on shift, and Warren began to think, and maybe more than that, too. Warren always did have a thing for brunettes (though Nathan was a bit more blond, if he was being truthful).
The first thing Warren had ordered from Nathan was a plate of waffles with a side of company. So smooth. He still remembered the look Nathan had given him -- top lip curled back, one eyebrow raised, those blue eyes looking directly into his own… What would have normally been a cruel expression was much softer on Nathan’s face, Warren thought. It was almost like muscle memory had pulled his face into a sneer, but his brows weren’t pulled severely into that glare for lack of anger, and his eyes were much more confused than disgusted.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said near sarcastically, almost as if he couldn’t help it -- maybe didn’t even mean to. “We don’t serve company here.”
Thinking himself very clever and suave, Warren had tossed about twenty dollars onto the table, his smile expectant but not without humor. “Don’t worry, I can pay. All you have to do is sit down and talk.”
Nathan had looked nervous. It almost made Warren feel bad about this decision. Nathan didn’t have anything to fear from Warren, but it did add up that he’s question anyone’s intentions towards him -- especially someone offering him money. He looked back at the kitchen, then to Warren.
“Just…” he’d struggled to say. “Just wait a moment, please.”
Then he’d stomped off to the kitchen area, looking a bit unhappy. Warren knew he’d be back, however; with Sean Prescott in jail and most of the money going towards the kidnapping victims, the destruction of that weird murder barn, and coast of the relief efforts for the… hurricanado (?!) that had torn up the Bay, Nathan needed the cash. Why else would he be working at the diner, anyways? Warren told himself. Certainly not for fun.
When Nathan returned, serving Warren’s meal, he sat down across from him in the booth, and during their conversation explained, “Kris -- my sister -- she inherited most of the money. Dad wrote me and Mom out of the will; Mom for drinking so much, probably, and me for… well, being me .” He’s sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Now, Mom’s in rehab, thank fuck , and I’m in some different kind of therapy, and Kris is cutting me off the cash. Says it’ll be good for me.” He’d shrugged. “Maybe she’s right. Working is a good distraction, and I kind of like having to be smarter about my spending, if that makes any fuckin’ sense. Still, though…” His eyes fell to Warren’s pancakes. “I wish I could afford that good shit, y’know? Frank won’t sell to me at all anymore, plus I live with Madsen now so…”
Warren had shifted a bit, wondering if giving Nathan cash had been a good idea. To avoid feeling worse, he’d changed the subject. “So your sister is the one paying for the relief efforts?”
Nathan nodded sheepishly. “I asked her to, though -- give, give some cash to the victims and… and for the whales, too. The sea life. After all the shit I pulled. After everything…” He buried his face in his left hand and breathed for a while. Warren could tell he was struggling to pull himself together, though he was good at hiding the extent of it. He had looked tired. So, so tired.
It wasn’t the too-cool-to-care meeting of Ramona and Scott, but Warren doesn’t care. This isn’t some comic book. Nathan is real and he is fucked up and he is, in some ways, terrifying , but Warren wants to see more of him. He wants to hear more about his sister, about how he’s been doing, about his oddly close relationship with Joyce as well as his budding friendship with Chloe. He wants to know about Nathan’s hobbies and aspirations now that everything is different. He wants to know Nathan .
That seems to be easier said than done, however… Warren goes to the diner often, sometimes even bringing his father, and he sometimes gets to speak to him, but Nathan was at work and couldn’t be bothered too much. Even though he said his boss felt bad for him, many people still saw him as a criminal and didn’t want him working here. Joyce’s “you can’t fire a boy when he’s been nothing but a good employee!” only works so long as he is a good employee.
Warren and his dad are always sure to tip very well.
Yes, this is very, very different than the story of Scott and Ramona, and Warren quietly accepts that, closing the volume in his hands in the present and sighing. But that’s what inspired him in the end -- real life . What happened to Nathan is almost fantastical; like the plot of some horrifying thriller that he has to deal with the real, actual memories of every single day. Meanwhile, Warren has been reading a comic book, hoping it could get him laid.
Talk about a wake-up call.
So, yes, in the end, that is what inspires Warren to write his “ will you go out with me?” proposal -- not Scott Pilgrim and his need to love and his fear of realizing that he’s not the good person he thinks he is ( oof -- way to hit home O’Malley), but instead the nervous shine in Nathan’s bright blue eyes, expressive yet constantly guarded, and the desire in Warren’s own heart to make him smile.
Nathan is a good person, no matter what he did or why, and Warren really does enjoy his company. Life, Warren decides, is far too short and terrifying and strange for him to keep putting this off. Regardless of whether or not he has the perfect “ please pity fuck me ” speech (he tears all of these pages up with a burning shame in his gut; did he really think anyone could find this attractive?), he is going to ask Nathan out on a real, actual date -- a series of them, even -- and he’s going to do it soon. Very soon, he decides, and goes to bed.
Then, the following day, Warren goes to the Two Whales again, for like, the fourth day in a row, and goes over his little (less pathetic) speeches in his mind while he waits for the usual sit-down with Nathan. He wants what he says to be genuine. Raw. Enough of that tricky bullshit -- Nathan’s seen too much of that in his life. All Warren can think of is sappy and embarrassing, however. Hopefully Nathan will appreciate that, if Warren can’t.
You’re beautiful, Warren rehearses in his mind, cheeks red. You’re strong. You make me smile with your mean sense of humor. I want to see you outside the diner.
He orders a coffee, but then gets nervous and orders a plate, too, a number something-or-another with fries, which gets him an odd look from Joyce because it’s 9 a.m., Warren, and oh shit, he has class today, literally right now, it’s Monday, dipshit, looks like he’s skipping for the first time since like middle school --
Nathan, he interrupts his own anxious thoughts. Think of Nathan, think of Nathan; be calm. You’re so ridiculously incredible. I am constantly amazed by your strength. You’re doing so well in your fight to heal after the storm and what came before and I want to be with you, stand beside you, help you carry this terrible burden --
Joyce brings him his coffee and says Nathan will be out soon, making Warren nearly swallow his own tongue. She says she’s covering him for a bit since it’s so early and he just clocked in. Warren nods silently. He needs more time.
Nathan does a little job over from the kitchen and says “Sorry, Joyce,” and Warren almost screams because Nathan looks so cute this early in the morning, how dare he. His hair is so curly and obviously without any amount of the usual hair product. Warren wonders if maybe Joyce let Nathan sleep in late.
“Don’t you worry,” she replies, touching his hair softly. Warren is instantly jealous. There is not anger in it, only a terrible yearning. “I’ll bring you some food, too, okay?”
Nathan smiles in a way that suggests he wants to refuse but has lost that battle too many times, but thanks her softly. That gentle tone and soft smile stop Warren’s heart, he’s sure of it, if just for a moment.
When Joyce is gone, Warren breathes deeply, ready to give one of his many confessions. Shakespear can't help him here. Frost can't help him here. In fact, no one can help him here, because instead of saying ' I'm in a little bit of love with you ' or ' please have pity sex with me ', he blurts out, "I'm in lesbians with you.
Nathan blinks. His mouth is open, like he'd been about to speak at the same time as Warren. He blinks again. "Uh," He looks to the kitchen, then to Warren, nervously, as if willing Joyce back into the dining area. "I'm. A man, I'm... I'm male. Aren't you? I mean -- Not to fuckin' assume or anything, obviously, I--"
Warren struggles for his well-prepared declarations of like-like , but all he has are sweaty palms and a fat tongue. "I, um. Wow, beautiful? And let's just movies because I'm," He puts his face in his hands in anguish. " God , date me?"
Where there might have more comfortably been silence, Nathan says, "Uh..." Not just " uh ", but a long, droning buzz of white noise as he seems to struggle through what the shit Warren just said to him. Like a computer making a long, terrible error noise. Warren awaits the blue screen of death.
Struggling not to slam his face into the table, he realizes that the horrible, empty knot of his stomach and the screaming of fear-ridden, hateful expletives in his head means that he had also forgotten his pills this morning. Not only did he forget he had to go to school, he also forgot he has a clinically diagnosed anxiety disorder ... Warren can only think desperately, God, please . He feels like a man dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean. It's a wonder he's even wearing pants .
And then Nathan says, “Okay.”
And Warren blinks. “Wait, what?”
Nathan shrugs, his face slowly turning pink, then pinker, then red. Warren thinks he’s beautiful. “I mean… okay, sure.” He grows a bit quieter. “I don’t have much to lose. But -- big but; you… have to be patient.” His face goes stern. “We take it slow.” He face hardens further, though he’s still blushing. “ Very slow.”
Warren nods quickly, grinning. “Yeah! Yes! Okay! Yes!” It takes just as much strength as he has not to yell ‘ Yippee!’
Laughing, Nathan shushes him, looking around somewhat nervously, but Warren is already going off about where they can go, what they can do, “ Does this weekend work?” and Nathan gives up on being embarrassed quickly. Instead, he sighs, twitching a bit but otherwise doing his best to listen to Warren. Warren, however, is just spewing words.
“I… need to get to work,” he says with a smile once too much time has passed. “But come by after school -- and get the fuck out of here! You’re gonna be so late to class.”
Warren remembers, then, that is is still Monday. “Oh, shit!” He grabs his coat and shuffles out of the booth quickly, his meal completely untouched. Sorry, Joyce.
“Wait!” Nathan blurts after him. “I’ll get you a box, hold on.”
At least someone is looking out for her, Warren thinks, feeling a bit guilty.
Time passes, and by the time Warren’s weird burger breakfast is in a to-go box, first period is well over. Warren sighs deeply. He is not a religious man, but he prays he can get ahold of one of his classmates before the end of school. He wants to get back to the Two Whales as quickly as possible. He wants to go on that date. The severity of that desire shakes him a bit, but he doesn’t have the time to be shaken, so he is simply overwhelmed with joy and stress.
Nathan, like a true gentleman on parole, walks him out, making sure he has all his things and quietly getting after him for coming at all. Warren has no excuse he’s willing to share, so simply apologizes for being so thoughtless. He doesn’t sound like he’s sorry at all, but… the truth is far too embarrassing to share just yet.
‘I’m in lesbians with you, ’ Warren’s mind mocks in a voice eerily similar to Chloe’s . ‘Way to go, Romeo.’
“I’m just teasing, though,” says Nathan, breaking up Warren’s strange thoughts. “It’s… nice. That I came before Blackhell in your mind, I mean. Y’know, since…” He blushes. “Since you’re kind of a nerd.” That last word is a big choked off, as if Nathan realized he was speaking the wrong words as he was speaking them. He’s been trying hard to be nice.
Warren can’t help but laugh, delighted. “Knowledge is a lot more than school. I like science --”
“Mad science.”
“ Mad science ,” Warren agrees, grinning with all of his teeth. “But school can only teach me so much. The education system is a sham, anyways.” But, that’s a whole other near-incomprehensible rant. One Warren usually leaves to Chloe.
Nathan laughs quietly. They’ve made it to Warren’s car. “You think so, huh? That’s surprising…” Warren remembers belatedly that Nathan did not graduate.
He shrugs happily. “Maybe. But, uh,” he digs through his pockets for old times’ sake. “Here you go. A tip.”
Nathan raises an eyebrow, taking the money gently. “I’ll be sure to get this to Joyce -- you know, your server?”
Warren blushes. Sorry, Joyce . “R-Right…” He grins crookedly, sweating and nervous. He’s proud of himself for functioning this well without his meds. Warren still debated with himself whether a detour to the dorms to grab his pills would be worth it or not.
“Well…” Nathan shifts his weight from foot to foot, his hands in his pockets. He looks so cute his work uniform, it distracts Warren from any kind of plan he may have made. “I’ll see you after school… Nerd.” Quieter, then. “If you want to.”
The small, hopeful smile on Nathan’s face makes Warren’s heart flutter. “Y-yeah! Later, Nathan.”
Time passes again, Warren driving away his Wayback Machine as Nathan turns his focus to the diner patrons.
The rumble of his car speeding over the road is the closest thing Warren has to music, as his stereo is broken, but he doesn’t mind. He’s going on a date with Nathan , who cusses at work and looks adorable in blue and has perfect curls of not-quite-blond hair and Warren realizes suddenly that he is driving way over the speed limit. He tightens his hands on the wheel, his grip the only thing keeping him from shaking like a leaf. Despite it all, he hadn’t expected this -- he hadn’t truly dared to. And now, after embarrassing himself, skipping breakfast, forgetting his anxiety medication, and not going to his first two periods, he has a real actual date with Nathan Prescott which they will discuss the real actual details of after school. Just the thought makes him bit his lip, grinning in pure joy.
In only six or so house, he’ll know the when and the where of he and Nathan’s first date .
If Warren accidentally speeds the rest of the way to Blackwell, he doesn’t notice, and he isn’t harmed or pulled over. He is , however, shaking like the world’s gayest chihuahua, and a huge distraction to his fellow classmates throughout all of Chem 2.