Work Header

It was a warm summer evening when we premeditated our crime,

Work Text:

The community service really isn’t a shocker.

Personally, Nathan cannot believe he’s gone this long without a criminal record.
This isn't exactly the first time he’s had a run in with the law, between that time with James and the water-gun, or the last day field-trip of sixth form, or even that thing with the Taytos the other day.
Nope, Nathan is neither shocked nor appalled, just checks with the mirror to make sure he still looks good in orange.

Simon’s having a slightly tougher time.

Simon, who, up until he met his boyfriend (lover, as Nathan would so obnoxiously purr) of about two weeks, had a straighter edge than a razor. Simon who had fantastic marks, Simon of the recently-and-inexpertly cut hair, who had nail marks down his back, Simon Bellamy who was just charged with six-months of community service.
Yeah, it’s not terribly difficult to see where he ‘switched paths’ as it were.

Six months community service with Nathan though.
“Silver lining, Barry!”

Nathan finally stopped when he noticed his boyfriend wasn’t matching the pace Nathan had set with clasped hands as they marched out of the courtroom.

“C’mon darlin’, it’s not that bad!”

Simon had to look up a little to see Nathan’s half-reassuring expression.
“No-one’s going to want to hire me, and my Mom’s going to kick me out, and--”

“Hey hey hey, calm down now,” said Nathan, slinging a arm around his boyfriend.

“Film-makers love this sort of thing, very artsy, very vogue-”
Simon had started to grin a little,

“They all flock together, these herds of-- what was it, that director--”
“Jonas Mekas.”
“Yes, him-- these herds of Mekas types, and they go on and on about their misspent youth, and you can top it all with the story of your arrest--”
“We are never telling anyone--”
“Your drug-fuelled escapades then, whatever-- and you will get snapped up by some rich wanker who wants to write a film noir about how plastic use is unsustainable--”

Nathan kept rambling on, but Barry was smiling, so it didn't seem to matter exactly what he was saying now anyways. He had a way of doing that, Nathan had noticed. No one would really look at Barry much, but once he had your attention he held it for as long as he wanted. Handsome shark.
Nathan knew how gay that made him sound, but as someone who had his boyfriend’s cock up his arse last night, he supposed he couldn't really talk about was and wasn't strictly hetrosexual.

“Anyways, your Mom can’t kick you out, then she’ll be copying my Ma and that’s right unfashionable.”
“I’m sorry, what?”


Kelly hated bullies. Had for her whole life.
Lots of people have called Kelly stupid, because of her thick accent or the way she put on eyeliner like war paint and scraped her hair back like it was a liability if it got in the way.

But Kelly understood things, even if she couldn't articulate as well as some bastard school teacher would like. She got why chemical reactions worked how they did, and why Claudius was such a dickhead to Hamlet, and why people got on or didn't.

Nathan had been fuckin’ picking on Simon all day, and Kelly had had just about enough of it.

Fact is, Simon reminded her of her little nephew. He was quiet, and he liked routine, and he couldn't talk, but Kelly had always been the best at dealing with him and his meltdowns. It’s always logical shit: he’s not dumb, you just gotta lay it out for him. Kelly could get behind that.

And lord knows that if Kelly is behind you, you got one hell of a guard-dog.
They were out painting benches when Nathan piled on the last straw.

“Ahoy hoy weird kid,” Nathan yelled across the park, “What’d you get done in for?”

Simon stared resolutely at the bench he was squatting behind, not responding. Kelly reminded herself to breathe and count to ten.

Nathan started walking. One, Two, Three, Four--
“‘Cause no offense, but ya look like a pervert,”

Sigh. One, Two, Three--
“Was it panty-sniffing?”

Kelly’s fist clenched.
“Ah, no need to be ashamed, brings me back to my youth! Back in the day, innocently stealing panties off the line-- Oh the priests will whoop you for that back in Ireland but little did they know, that was my favourite part! You seem more like the ruler-wielder though, I’d-- Argh!”

Kelly opened her eyes, but nothing could’ve prepared her for this spectacle.
Nathan had been caught off guard, his ear firmly pinched in Simon’s small hand. He was being pulled away from the group stage left by the side of his head, bent over and cursing loudly the whole time.

“You’ve strong little hands, you used to pulling off gents behind a truck stop? Lemme guess, there’s tips to be had for a bit of ‘rough treatment’-ow!”

Kelly had followed them, of course. She had caught something in Simon’s eye that didn't remind her so much of her nephew, but a boy her mate was seeing a while back who used to punch holes in the walls of their flat. Real violent sorta look, like you could do something really bad.

Nathan may’ve been a wanker, but Simon looked about ready to kill.

“Motherfucker, you pull everyone around like that or am I just special? Cause I’m not saying that it gets me off, but I’m not not sayin’ it--”
“Shut up.”

These were the first words Kelly had heard Simon say all day. They weren't aggressive, or loud, just a simple statement of fact. Like Nathan would have to shut it just because he said so.
And Nathan did shut up. Instantly.

Simon continued to tug at Nathan, pulling him even farther from the group.
“Y’know,” he started, conversationally, “If you wanted, there’s easier ways to get my attention.” Nathan stumbled after him, no longer looking pulled, so much as… led.

Suddenly Simon turned on his heel, pulled Nathan down to his level, and jammed his tongue down his throat.
Oh. Oh. Ohhhhhhhh.

Very abruptly, a lot of things made sense to Kelly. Nathan smacking Simon on the ass as he passed by. Simon watching Nathan’s throat as he lobbed insults. Nathan standing just a tad too close to Simon, his hand resting on the railing behind them-- he had wanted to put his hand on the small of Simon’s back. Oh.
Welp, two less people to worry about looking at her tits.

They finally came up for air, Nathan looking high and vaguely dazed, Simon, smug.

“Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you. Might need to keep talking though, if that’s your preferred method of shutting me up- I’m deeply in favour, don’t get me wrong, but I think we should try again for testing purposes, y’know--”
“Yes dear?”
“We’ve got to go do our community service.”
“Ugh, you flirt! Tease! You architect of imaginative shades of azure blue balls!”
Nathan was flailing around like he was auditioning for role of hysterical bride, all limp wrists and death drops. It was admittedly hilarious.

“We’ve got to go back, try to stay calm.”
“How can I when five foot three of sexy-melon-fucking-welshman is standing in front of me looking ravishable!?”
“I’m not a melon-fucker.”
“I know that! You’re into fucking a different type of fruit!” Nathan said loudly, slapping his own ass.
Simon just looked confused. “I thought you were a twinkie?”
“A twink, and there’s no reason I can’t be a fruit too! There’s a entire cornucopia of homosexual stereotypes I could fill out, like--”

Kelly smiled as she tailed them back to the rest of the group. It was nice when problems worked themselves out. She’d always been a fan of happy endings.


“So, what’d you get done in for?”
Nathan looked towards Simon. If he was gonna tell this story it would only be if Simon was chill with it, Nathan actually liked this relationship and being in it, thank you very much.
“Well, uhh, that’s a interesting story, y’see--”

Simon looked up, made direct eye contact, and nodded.
Success! Nathan leaned further back in his chair, kicking his feet into Simon’s lap.
“It was a warm summer evening when we premeditated our crime--”


Nathan was curled up in Simon’s lap when they started discussing Matt again.
It’d been roughly three days since Nathan had dragged Simon home for blowjobs and eggs, and during that time, Simon had been living in a blissed out, euphoric haze. When they weren't taking drugs, they were fucking, and when they weren't fucking, they were taking drugs.
Simon liked listening to Nathan talk, and Nathan had turned to him that first night as they lay entangled on the floor and touched The Fur Rug, and said that most people didn't stick around this long. Simon had never been more confused, said that most people would kick him out after this long. They then kissed.

From then on out they vowed to be Nathan and Barry “We need pet names, you’re sweet! Like a… berry” against the world, Simon and Nathan for a thousand years. It was gorgeous. Nathan told Simon what people were thinking and how to piss them off, and Simon remembered names and made plans for the two of them.
Three days since Simon had last went home, three days of working more like partners in crime than free agents. Simon had shown Nathan all the James Bond films. He was pretty sure that they had a sex tape recorded on his phone to the 1963 original theme song. This was, truly, the perfect relationship.

Today, Nathan had declared that they were trying LSD. Well, Simon would be trying it, since it was his first time, Nathan would be taking it, “‘Cause I ain’t experimenting with drugs, I’m doing them!”

They were right at the height of their trip, and Simon couldn't stop running his fingers through Nathan’s hair.
No skin off his nose, Nathan was practically melting under all the attention and skin-on-skin contact. He faded back into reality to look up at the weird kid he’s rescued from the club, only to see he was frowning.


Oh shit, was that out loud? Nathan was decidedly not sober.

“Why’re you frowning love?”

“Oh. Just-” Barry let out a long stream of smoke. They had gotten into Nathan’s neverending stash of weed a while back. “Just Matt. I just wanted to be his friend, I--”

“Hey, hey now, none of that. You don’t need pricks like him, you got better friends now, like me!”

Simon smiled a little. Nathan felt buoyed.

“Yeah man, fuck him! I bet he’s a little fucking pussy!”
“He is shorter than me…”
“Shorter than you? But you’re bite-sized for convenience! I bet Matt’s got a tiny fucking cock.”

There was an idea forming in Nathan’s head. Murky, but there. He just needed to keep talking to fully flesh it out.

“Yeah, I bet he fucking shags girls in the dark so they can’t see his pathetic little shrimpy. Bet he has a label in his underwear that reads ‘small parts, choking hazard’, and-- Barry! I’ve got it.”


Nathan rolled over, the entire world sliding around like a Salvador Dali painting as his perspective warped.
“You should fuck me,” pause for effect, “In Matt’s house!”

Simon had already had his pants down. He thought that fucking Nathan was a fantastic idea, given how well that exact scenario had played out for him in the past. But wait,

“How would we get into his house?”
“Ah fuck, you’re right.”

Nathan was frowning now. Shit! Nathan was supposed to be happy. And if he wasn't happy, it’s not supposed to be Barry’s fault.

“Let’s try it though.”


On the way there, they passed two blunts back and forth, shotgunning literally every toke, and getting kicked off the tube before their stop for the trouble.

When they got to Matt’s house, they could not get in, as expected. As unexpected, however, was that the grass outside was warm and soft, and Simon has his hand on the nape of Nathan’s neck, and well--


“You fucked ‘im on ‘is front lawn?”

The group was broken from their enraptured silence by Kelly’s question. Nathan had always had a gift for storytelling, his irish accent stretching out the luxurious syllables, gesturing hands describing action better than words sometimes.

“Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Nathan plucked the half-smoked remainder of his joint and placed it in Simon’s mouth, who was now focussing on some far-off point in the distance as the tips of his ears turned bright red. Nathan took a moment to admire him as he puffed furiously.

“Barry here was the one doing the fucking--” A collective groan arises from the group “--I was the fuckee- fuckess?- in this situation, the mid-afternoon sunlight bouncing off my arsecheeks as he pounds into me like a man deranged! I tell ya, the grass stains on my knees? Still won’t come out! In fact I--”

“Nah man, that’s bullshit.” Curtis then stood up, cracking his shoulder from sitting too long. “No fucking way Simon had you on some prick’s front lawn.”

Nathan, weirdly enough, looked delighted.
“Are you saying you don’t believe me? Barry-” Simon had his head pressed into one palm at this point, the poor lad, “-he’s saying he doesn’t believe me!”

“Oh god,” said Simon.

“Y’see there, uh,” snapping his fingers, Alisha eventually said “Curtis,”
“Ah! Y’see here, Curtis, Mr. Matt himself actually caught the whole thing on camera. And then uploaded it to pornhub. Fucking bastard. But it means I have video proof! And that we get paid in Canadian dollars at the end of every month, but that’s not the point!”

Nathan promptly turned his phone screen, now loudly blaring his own tinny moans, towards the group as Simon curled up even further into the wheelchair he’d sequestered himself into.

There was no denying it was Nathan. From the curly hair to the stars tatted across his right hip bone, it was him.
“This is actually a really nice resolution.”
Simon groaned from his fetal position “We took the same film class, it’s a school camera.”
Nathan sympathetically patted his back.

“Wait a minute,” Curtis leaned in closer, squinted at the tiny screen, “Is that--”
“No way. No fucking way!”

“Yeah fucking way!” Nathan looked proud. He had very few things to be proud of in life, and he was not letting this one go. “Barry packs fuckin’ heat!”

Alisha peered at the phone screen. “Is that all his cock? Jesus Christ.”
Kelly looked Nathan up and down, “How tha fook are ya still walkin’?”

“It’s called talent, ladies, and the point is that we all, and with God as my witness, we all know for sure, that Barry has a bigger dick than that ratshit Matt. And also there’s a dead patch in his lawn where I jizzed, take that you fucking animal.”

“He has a prick bigger than 85% of the population, he’d sorta have to.”

The video continued playing.
“Jesus Christ, you’re really not fucking around, huh?”
“Well no, my first arrest had to be legendary! Better than getting down in for some fuckin’ pick ‘n’ mix, yeah?”