Work Text:
Nick wasn’t an insecure man by any means.
Simultaneously, he would never give up the time he spent at night, almost religiously- the same time, the same place, every night- with his lover, Jay Gatsby. The infamous drug looming over New York’s party scene, Jay Gatsby was everywhere. Between whispering lips, fast feet, and dirty alleys, nobody in New York could escape Gatsby. If you knew the city, you knew Gatsby, and you knew his parties. Pools laced with salacious women in his backyard, vodka held by greedy pigs by his bar, whores leaving with more than they came with. Gatsby saw it all, and he allowed it all, and everyone knew without complaint. So when Nick was seen and allowed, he wouldn’t complain either.
Tonight was an especially hard night for the both of them; Nick had been rushing around his office all day, making sure market trends were as expected while keeping communications open between two essential clients. A regular difficult day, but difficult nonetheless. Gatsby, on the other hand, had been forced through the ringer.
Jay had left the house with the usual kiss on the cheek from Nick, but no coffee- they’d both woken up late after a particularly taxing night. He made his regular rounds around local businesses, making sure everything was going smoothly. In the midst of the prohibition, alcohol selling and purchasing was a lucrative business, but a risky one. Everyone involved knew it was important to keep the trade a secret (although everyone knew about it already but didn’t do anything anyways- cops need something to drink).
Unfortunately, not everything was going as smoothly as it usually ran. Certain men had found out about the alcohol trade at a certain establishment that Jay particularly relied on for income, and they were demanding a portion of the profits to keep things underground. Jay managed to convince them not to leak his already well-known name in regards to the trade, but it came with the loss of ten percent of his profit from that establishment. What a pissy way to start the day.
It only got worse when Jay stopped at a local bar to mingle a bit, establish connections, etcetera. Less than a few bad things could happen in this space- he practically ran it. Then the bar didn’t have his regular seat saved for him. And they ran out of his regular drink. And there were more than enough assholes to make him want to get the fuck out. But Jay Gatsby is nothing if not a performer, so he puts on his regular charming smile and makes his way through the bar, making chitchat and talking numbers with people who probably don’t know how to multiply.
Needless to say, Jay was beyond exhausted when he returned home to his regular routine. Evidently, so was Nick; his legs sprawled out on their couch (the one in their private living room- the public one gets thrown up on every other night, so he’d rather not touch it), his arms stretched above his head, and his mouth resting open. He would deny to hell and back that he drooled, despite the darkening couch under his mouth. Jay had already slipped off his shoes and jacket at the entrance to his home, so he merely unbuttons his top before sliding across from Nick. His fingers trace the slope of his lover’s nose, the lines of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips as they settle into a sleepy smile.
Jay loved nobody more than he loved Nick. He wanted nothing more than to be able to love him publicly, but obviously he wasn’t able to, considering… everything. He’d been stuck on Daisy for so long, he had lived for Daisy, and he had only come to the realization that he loved Nick while he was shuffling through his faked tax documents. Who else would he trust this secret with? Who else could he even tell? Nobody but Nick would understand, nobody but Nick would be okay with him. With the real Jay Gatsby.
Jay is startled from his thoughts when Nick’s fingers graze his jaw. He blinks and quickly relaxes; his gaze lands on Nick, his eyes soft and fond and full of anything Jay could ever want.
“Rough day?” Nick asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. Clearly they’ve both been hit with more than their fair share of work for the day.
Jay snorts and leans in closer to Nick, letting their lips brush. “You have no clue, old sport.” A soft press of their lips is usually more than enough to get them rowdy, but they’re too tired today. Much too tired to do anything more than louse around the rest of the day. Without needing any words, Nick understands. As always. A warm feeling of comfort rises through Jay’s spine; this is truly all he could ever want.
They lay close to each other, barely touching yet completely enveloped by the other. Nick has his arms laid across Jay’s torso while his head rests on the crook of Jay’s arm; Jay’s face is tucked into Nick’s hair, a soft inhale revealing the fabric-softener-scented soap he uses. It’s Jay’s favorite thing to smell in the mornings when he wakes up, and his favorite thing to smell at night before he goes to sleep. It’s a constant reassurance that he isn’t alone. Despite being constantly surrounded by people and noise and passion, he’d always carried the weight of loneliness with him.
Now, he had Nick to help him carry it.
As the sun sets behind the lace curtains, shades of pink and orange begin to cover both of them, giving way to dusk. Nick wakes up before Jay. His eyelashes flutter heavily with sleep. The urge to overwhelm Jay with kisses and wake him up nudges at Nick, but he ignores it in favor of watching Jay rest a little longer. Jay always used to wake up first, at five o’clock sharp- a habit remaining from when he was young and working arduously. Now that things were more relaxed, he tended to sleep in from time to time, which meant taking lazy naps in the afternoons with Nick after work, especially after hard days. They’re Nick’s favorite thing; something that only he had of Jay. Something only he got to see after a long day of everyone else getting to see everything.
Nick lets himself look at Jay. Just look. He loves the way his jaw is shaped, chiseled but not too much that he’d look undoubtedly masculine. His features were on the softer side; with eyes curved in just so, his nose sloped up with a less apparent bridge, his lips curved without sharp angles, he carried an air of femininity that he wielded with the power of pure charm. It was enchanting to see from afar, and even more astounding to watch in its natural state. His eyelashes lay atop his rosy cheeks. His jaw rested against the couch cushion, smushed against his face. And his lips, oh, his lips. Nick couldn’t help but smile.
His lips, a shade of pink that could outshine roses, were settled in a small smile. The curves of his lips were soft and accentuated by the lighting from the setting sun. The orange in the rays made his skin glow. Nick suddenly felt he couldn’t breathe; here, laying in front of him with no judgement or hate, was the most beautiful man he had ever experienced in his life. It sent an unexpected shudder through his body, and the warmth under his skin and in his soul grew. He didn’t know what to do. To be overwhelmed with such beauty, to be given such love, to be trusted with holding another man’s hand. How could he manage?
But it would be okay. Because as the sun set, and they both woke up from their afternoon naps, the two would make their way to the bedroom. It overlooked the lake; private, intimate, and beautiful. They would change their clothes, make small talk and laugh at inside jokes, then go wash up for the night. They would huddle into bed, gathering under the covers, and watch as the last instances of sun left for the day. The moon would rise, the stars would shine, and Nick and Jay would whisper to one another until they fell asleep. Their arms would be wrapped around each other, and they would be scared. Still, they knew:
They would have each other, and they’d be okay, and that’s all that mattered.