Chapter Text
~*~
Agron and Nasir get through the rehearsal of the second scene of the play without any problem, mostly because all they can focus on are the words of the script and their characters. When it comes time to move on to scene three, Nasir feels like they should discuss it first, before starting, instead of just jumping into it.
“Because Lucius hasn’t gone over stage combat techniques yet, I think we should just kind of imply what happens in this scene. The last play I did had some violence in it, so I have done this kind of thing before, but I know this is new for you,” Nasir explains.
“If you trust me, we can go with it,” Agron says softly, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Nasir is quiet for a moment and takes a sip of the beer that Agron had given him. “I appreciate that Agron, but I think I want to take it easy for this one. I, I guess give me a second to get ready…Jesse’s pretty upset in this scene, so…”
“We don’t have to go overboard, you know,” Agron tells him. He watches Nasir. His worry is obvious when he asks, “Are you okay with this stuff, Nasir? This is pretty heavy shit, especially with…”
He holds up a hand and sets aside the beer, saying, “I’m fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to start,” he tells him as he stands and heads over to the sink and starts washing some of the dirty dishes left over from lunch.
Agron is sitting at the small table that he and Donar use more for doing homework than for eating. He takes a last drink from his beer, finishing it before he says, in an accusatory way, “Why are you doing that?”
Nasir had been washing the dish with his left hand, and holding it gingerly with his right, with it braced against the edge of the sink. Lowering his head, Nasir says softly and meekly, “What? I’m…I’m not doing anything, baby. I’m just doing the dishes. See?”
“You’re not holding the plate the right way. Why aren’t you using your right hand?” Agron demands.
“No reason. It’s nothing. It’s fine. You know that it’s still healing from when I broke it…the accident with the car door when you closed it on my arm…,” Nasir says tentatively.
Agron stands and walks over to him, hissing, “That wasn’t my fault. You were clumsy.”
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s my fault,” Nasir says, trying to smile like he thinks Jesse would be as he tries to charm away Rick’s anger. Nasir looks up at Agron but the concern in his eyes is all Agron as they say the next two lines.
“So, what the hell is wrong with you now?!” Agron yells.
Nasir can see Agron getting upset already, and wants to just stop and hold him and tell him that it is okay, but he does not. He lets Agron go as far as he wants to go. Holding the plate in his left hand, he turns to Agron still favoring his right and says plaintively, stammering a little, “It’s just…it’s a little sore…from before…this morning…”
Grabbing hold of Nasir’s right wrist, they watch as the plate falls with a clatter to the floor, imagining that it is china instead of a cheap plastic one. They imagine it smashes into small broken shards that scatter across the linoleum.
“Look at what you did!” Agron bellows. He sees the tears start to fall down Nasir’s cheeks. The steely look in his green eyes is asking Nasir if he should do what the script calls for. Agron sees the response he is looking for and pulls back his tightly closed fist and swings, punching the air to the left of Nasir’s head, just as he snaps his head to the side like the blow connected. When he turns back to face Nasir, his breath is hitching a little with his tears, and Agron reaches up, almost helpless to stop, and softly touches Nasir’s black eye. Agron’s voice starts to thicken with emotion as he says the next line, gritting his teeth and blinking away the tears that are threatening to appear. “You’re crying?!” trying to sound mean and incredulous, and only managing sadly heartbroken. “Come on, Jesse. Be a man. Don’t be…don’t be a…a pussy,” he spits out.
Nasir’s face twists, and he bites hard at his bottom lip, trying to swallow back a small whine of pain. Trembling, he claps his hands over his mouth, and shuts his eyes against the world. “Nasir? What’s wrong?” Agron asks and wraps him in his arms, in a gentle hug.
He buries his face gratefully in Agron’s chest, holding tightly with one hand cupping the back of Agron’s head, and the other curled around his back. Shaking with his tears, and cursing himself quietly, Nasir cannot bring himself to explain anything for a few long minutes, and just presses as close to Agron as he can get. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just tell me what to do. Please,” Agron says quietly, hearing Nasir murmur almost inaudibly to himself things like how stupid and weak he is. “You’re not stupid,” Agron argues. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it’d be fine, that I could do it without letting it get to me. But I guess I failed. I’m always screwing everything up. It’s just…” Nasir whispers, trailing off.
“Tell me. I’m not going to judge you, man. It’ll help to talk. It helps me to talk when shit gets me this upset. And I’ve had a lot of practice with upset,” Agron assures him.
“It’s what Glaber calls me. Poti...it means pussy...pussycat,” Nasir murmurs fearfully against Agron’s neck, now damp from Nasir’s tears. He feels a little lighter, having gotten the words out, but also immediately wants to take them back.
“Oh my god,” Agron groans resting his head on Nasir’s shoulder tightening his hold around the smaller man.
“It started as just a nickname. My Nana used to call me poti ... ‘kitten.’ She’d say, ‘Oh, Nasir’s about as harmless as a little bitty kitten,’ and Glaber knew about that. So he started calling me poti, but he says it even more now, when he’s hurting me…stuff like, ‘Come on poti, you can take it,’ and ‘you scream so good for me, poti,’ but it’s just a word, right? It doesn’t mean anything, right?”
“Jesus Christ, little man. No wonder you got upset! I’m so sorry,” Agron breathes, horrified, tightening his hold on Nasir again.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault,” Nasir responds, and pulls away, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Why does this stuff get you so upset, anyway? I appreciate the concern and all, but my issues are not your problem.”
“I just don’t want anyone hurting you,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, but his eyes get a faraway, dark look, and his hand goes instinctively to his necklace.
“I don’t think that’s entirely true. What aren’t you telling me? Did someone hurt you too?” Nasir asks a little fearfully, and his eyes wide.
Agron laughs, a heartbreakingly bitter sound as his tears start falling again. His voice is wrecked and shattered when he finally says, “Oh, you have no idea,” in mocked self-loathing. He sinks to the floor, crouched with his knees drawn up to his chest, and his arms hugged around himself.
“Agron? What happened? You’re scaring me,” Nasir says crouching next him gently placing a shaking hand on his knee.
“It’s was a long time ago - a long story. My parents have spent a fortune on my psychiatry bills,” Agron explains. He grabs hold of his necklace and brings it to his lips, kissing it. Then he slowly turns it in his fingers, touching the bright silver of the small eagle, its wings spread as if in flight, and tells Nasir, “It was my brother’s.”
“The necklace?” Nasir asks.
“Yeah. My brother, Duro. He wore it all the time, said it reminded him that we all need to rise above things, just like an eagle,” he says smiling sadly.
“He means a lot to you?” Nasir asks, but it is really more of a statement.
“You don’t want to hear this. You really don’t. It happened a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not a nice story,” Agron warns from the kitchen floor.
“If it makes you this upset then it does matter. Come on, you know my sad story. You can tell me yours. But get off the floor first, dude. Sit down on the couch or something,” Nasir tells him, frowning. He struggles to pull Agron up, and guides him over to the couch.
They sit together, with Agron perched on the edge of the cushion. He grabs a throw pillow and hugs it to his chest as he talks. “My brother was gay. But he was a total jock, you know. Football player, popular, everyone loved him. Until he got this crush on one of his teammates, and the guy found out somehow. Then everyone started treating him differently. They were so fucking cruel to him. But he was so strong. He never seemed too bothered by it, just took it in stride and was true to himself. God, he was such an awesome brother. He was my whole world,” Agron says lost in his thoughts. Fearful of the way that Agron is talking about his brother in the past tense, Nasir puts a hand on Agron’s back and rubs when Agron pauses and hugs the pillow tighter.
“He was eighteen. We were on the way back from a football game. I had taken Duro out for the day, watched the game and had tons of hot dogs and soda, and just had such a great time together. Just the two of us. But on the way home I had to pee, you know, from all the soda. We stopped at this random gas station, and I went to use the bathroom while Duro walked around in the aisles, waiting for me. I started to hear screaming and angry voices from outside of the bathroom near the cash register of the gas station. And then a gun shot. I came out of the restroom and saw that there were these two guys in masks robbing the place. One of the guys saw me and freaked out. They shot at the door - at me - and missed. But Duro yelled. He yelled, ‘No!’ And it startled them, I guess. So one of them just turned and shot Duro in the head. They shot him right in the head, and he was gone. Just like that. I saw him die. They shot him in the head and he was...he was just gone.” Agron rocks himself back and forth on the edge of the couch, and Nasir just pulls him into a hug, stilling him and kissing his temple.
“But almost as bad as that, as having to see that, and live through that, was after…some of the kids from his school were there and they said…they said, ‘Someone shot the fag,’ and laughed. They fucking laughed,” he spits. Nasir’s heart goes cold, and he holds Agron to his chest more tightly, pressing another kiss to his hair. “Even Donar doesn’t know that part,” Agron says softly, his eyes dry and dull as he loses himself in the memories.
They hear the sound of the doorknob rattling and it swings open as Dona walks in, his bag slung over his shoulder. “We lost,” he says, not looking up as he shuts the door and drops everything. “No after-party. Thought I’d just come back here and have a beer. Saxa’s on her way over, too, and…” He finally looks up and sees the two men on the sofa, recognizing the look on Agron’s face instantly.
“What happened?” Donar asks, rushing over and crouching in front of his friend. “Agron? Hey!” he demands snapping his fingers in Agron’s face. He turns to Nasir and asks, “He was talking about him, wasn’t he? He was talking about Duro.”
Nasir nods, shifting his hold on Agron to move his hand to Agron’s shoulder instead of his chest in case he decides that he wants to pull away, which he does not. Agron stays seated clutching the pillow to his chest.
“Why the hell do you do this to yourself?” Donar asks Agron. “You know what talking about this shit does to you. Did you make him talk about it?” he demands glaring at Nasir, his eyes hard and protective.
“Stop,” Agron says angrily, sitting up and leaning back against the couch, but not moving away from Nasir. “Don’t you fucking talk to him like that. Nasir didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to tell him. He deserves to know.”
“Well, you’re not talking about it anymore tonight. I mean it. It fucks you up, and I hate seeing you like this. So, knock it the fuck off,” he growls angrily.
“Only if you stop being mean to Nasir,” Agron scowls.
“I’m not being…” Donar sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry Nasir. I’m sorry for blaming you,” he says and then turns back to Agron, “Happy?”
“A little. It’s not your job to take care of me dude. I can talk about whatever I want to,” Agron scowls petulantly.
“Not when it messes you up and then I have to live with your sorry, depressed ass. Listen, Saxa and I were going to go out and grab something to eat. Why don’t you come with us? Nasir, you should come, too,” he offers.
“I don’t know. We were rehearsing. And I’m kind of tired,” Agron says evasively.
“No. You’re just going to sit here and sulk. You can’t fool me, man. You are coming out with us,” Donar insists grabbing his arm and starts pulling him up from the couch.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?” Agron tells Nasir with a pout. “Will you come with us? I don’t want to go if you’re not going too.”
“Sure,” Nasir smiles. “I’ll come too,” he says, with a small, mischievous twinkle in his eye that makes Agron blush when he realizes the double-entendre.
“I’m going to go take my contacts out, and get my wallet. Be right back,” he tells Nasir and Donar.
“Okay. I’m going to give Gannicus and Sibyl a call to let them know where I’m at,” Nasir says, pulling out his phone as he watches Agron disappears into the bedroom, with Donar following closely behind.
When they get to Agron’s room, and Donar closes the door over, saying, “Don’t you two seem cozy.”
“Shut up,” Agron says, blushing even more, pulling out his contact case and saline solution. He pops out the lenses and puts them away.
“You know, you’re looking kinda guilty right now. Oh and there is the fact that Nasir is wearing your pants,” he smirks knowingly at his friend.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You are too damn observant for your own fucking good,” Agron says, closing the lens containers and sliding on his silver-framed glasses.
“Well?” Donar prompts.
“Uh-uh,” Agron says shaking his head.
“What the hell happened in there? I thought you were rehearsing?” Donar pushes.
“We were rehearsing. It was a very physical scene, as you’ll probably see this week in class,” Agron tries to explain, blatantly ignoring the heat of embarrassment rolling through him.
“So why is he wearing your sweatpants? Where are his pants?” Donar asks not easily subdued.
“How do you know they’re mine?” Agron demands tersely.
“Because they are a little bit too long for him,” Donar grins, adding, “And they’re not black.”
“Fine. We kind of got a little carried away,” Agron mumbles.
“What does that even mean?” Donar feigns ignorance.
“More kissing. Shirtless heavy petting and humping until we both kind of came in our pants,” Agron explained quickly just to try to put an end to this conversation.
“Holy shit!” Donar exclaims, shocked and gaping at Agron.
“Shh!” Agron hisses and frowns at Donar while waving his hands for him to be quiet.
“Agron! What the hell, man? So are you, like, gay now? I know you haven’t had a lot of girlfriends, but I thought you were just being, you know, picky,” he tries to reason.
“Drop it, Donar,” Agron says sternly. “And don’t you dare say it. I know what you’re thinking. This is not about Duro. I’m not trying to be Duro. I’m just doing what feels right. And it feels right when I’m with him. So fuck off,” he snaps.
“Are you still trying to save Nasir?” Donar persists quietly.
“What do you think?” he says rhetorically.
“I don’t think this is good for you. This isn’t going to help either one of you,” Donar warns sympathetically.
“Let me handle it. Please? I’m a grown man. This is my decision,” Agron states firmly.
“And what, exactly, did you decide?” Donar asks.
Agron just frowns at him silently and opens the door, tucking his wallet into his jeans, and heads out into the living room just as Nasir ends his phone call. “Ready?” he asks Nasir.
“Yep,” Nasir grins.
They hear a knock at the door, and Agron says, “That’s probably Saxa. Come on, Donar.” Glancing between the two other men with a sigh, Donar nods. They grab their coats and head out.
~*~
They end up at a small, out-of-the-way sports bar, and order one of each kind of appetizer on the menu, which they all share and pick at. Agron is surprised to learn that Nasir, Donar and Saxa all have a number of classes together, besides the acting workshop, and he listens quietly to the three of them talk about the classes amongst themselves. When Nasir mentions his second major, painting, Agron jumps in and raves to them about how talented Nasir is, which only serves to make Nasir blush as he tries to downplay his work.
Donar asks if Nasir ever shows his work in public, and Nasir tells them, “Yeah. Actually, this weekend I have to drop off some more paintings with this gallery owner that I’m friends with. Her name is Lucretia. She has this cool little place downtown. She’s been great to me, and sells my paintings in her gallery. It’s pretty much how I make money, since I don’t have time for a job,” he says, eating an egg roll.
“That’s so great, Nasir, that you have someone helping you get your paintings out there,” Saxa smiles. “Hey, is that the place on the corner of North and Main?”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Nasir nods.
“You know, I’ve been in there a few times. You’re not the one who does those landscapes and stuff, are you? And those really emotional portraits? You know, the ones that are usually in the displayed in the window?”
Nasir rubs the back of his neck nervously, and squints a little with embarrassment. “Um…yeah. That’s probably me. I know the other people that show at Lucretia’s are usually into more abstract, impressionistic styles.”
“Oh my god! I can’t believe it. I love your work, Nasir. I’ve been saving up to buy something, actually. There were a couple paintings of some street kids that was just so powerful, I had to have it,” she exclaims.
“Thanks, Saxa,” he says, grinning. “That’s really cool of you to say. I usually only hear reaction to my work from the people that in my class. I don’t go to the gallery except to talk with Lucretia and deliver new paintings; so yeah, thanks. I think we need to talk about something else before I get even more embarrassed,” Nasir says.
“Well, maybe you deserve it,” Agron smiles. “You should hear people’s reactions once in a while. You have a gift,” Agron praises earnestly.
“Oh, stop it,” he smirks and playfully nudges Agron’s shoulder.
“How’s the rehearsing coming with your group,” Agron asks Donar and Saxa, taking a bite of a chicken finger.
They exchange a look, and Donar says, “Alright, I guess. It’s hard to get through more than a couple of scenes at a time, they’re just so emotional and difficult, you know? We haven’t managed to get through the whole play yet, but it’s really still only just a little over a week into class so we have time.”
“Yeah,” Saxa agrees. “I’m supposed to get really upset in this one part, after Donar’s character says something really harsh to me, and we usually have to take a break afterwards. I didn’t realize this acting workshop was going to be so emotionally draining,” she says nibbling on a French fry.
“Yeah,” Agron mutters dunking another chicken finger in his honey mustard dip, “We both know what you both mean.”
“Oh yeah? Which part?” she asks, curiously reaching for another fry to dunk in her Ranch dressing.
“Um, both? We haven’t gotten through the whole play either, and ours is pretty emotional, too. But it gets easier after doing it a few times, at least with the scenes we’ve done so far,” he shares vaguely.
“Agron’s doing really great,” Nasir says. “I know he doesn’t have that much acting experience, but I’m really impressed with how much he gives the role, and how believable he is.”
“Well, I know I can’t wait to see you guys do your play in class,” Donar smiles wickedly.
Agron groans, “God, don’t remind me.”
“Why are you so nervous?” Saxa asks.
“I’m not nervous, really, it’s just…our play is kind of…physical…in parts. In good ways and bad ways. Not to mention the nudity.”
“There’s nudity!” Saxa exclaims.
“Will you keep it down please?! I think the whole fucking bar heard you!” Agron scowls testily.
“So who’s getting naked?” she asks with a smirk.
“I’m don’t wanna talk about it,” Agron grumbles. Nasir smirks at the group. Agron turns a bright shade of red, his head falls to the table, and he pulls his hoodie over his head. Donar and Nasir exchange a look and cackle loudly.
“So, how naked?” Saxa prods curiously.
“I told you, I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles angrily into the Formicaed table.
~*~
“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know,” Nasir says as they near Gannicus and Sibyl’s apartment just off campus.
“I know. But it’s a nice night for a walk. I kind of needed the air,” Agron says.
After a moment, Nasir says hesitantly, “Um, I have a favor to ask.”
“Okay,” Agron replies.
“Well, you know how I said that I have to bring some paintings down to Lucretia’s gallery tomorrow?” Nasir explains. Agron nods in reply. “Well, I kind of need your permission to show one of them,” Nasir explains nervously. “It’s a portrait of you.”
Agron stops and shivers a little as a cool breeze tickles at the back of his neck. He adjusts his glasses and pushes them farther up on the bridge of his nose and asks, “You did a painting of me?”
“Yeah. Is that okay? I’m really happy with how it turned out, and I know Lucretia would love it. But if you don’t want me to show it, then I won’t. I should have asked your permission first,” he says guiltily. “I’m sorry.”
“No! No, I mean ... of course it’s okay. But…can I see it first?” Agron asks suddenly very nervous. What will it look like? How does Nasir see him?
“Well, yeah. If you want to,” Nasir replies grudgingly.
“Well duh! Of course, I want to,” Agron smiles brightly.
Fucking dimples! Nasir thinks. “Okay. Well, I’ll be in my studio working for most of the day tomorrow. I was going to head down to Lucretia’s after she closes for the day. She closes a little earlier on Sundays. Just give me a call when you’re coming over.”
“You only want me to call first so you can put your shirt back on before I get there?” he teases cheekily.
Nasir laughs, “Dude, you’ve already played with my nipples. There’s no reason for me to be bashful anymore.”
“Yeah, well, um…,” Agron clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, “I’ll bring your pants with me. I’ve got laundry to do tomorrow anyways.”
“Thanks, yea-yeah,” Nasir stutters, “I’ll wash these and have them for you too.” After another minute of kicking at the loose rocks in the road as they walk, Nasir says, “Thank you for telling me about your brother. It means a lot that you felt you could trust me with that. And I know what it’s like to lose family. My…um…my family was killed in a car accident when I was thirteen. My mom, my dad, my little sister and my older brother. Everybody--everybody but me.”
Agron stops walking, his face nothing but pain as he looks up at Nasir and halts him as well with a hand on his arm. “Nasir…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I don’t even know what to say, man. What happened to you after?”
They continue walking and, as Agron’s hand slips down Nasir’s arm, Nasir takes it and holds on tightly. “I lived with my Nana, but she was pretty old and then got sick. After that, there was just Glaber.”
“Christ, you have some awesomely bad luck,” Agron mutters absently.
“Well, maybe my luck’s turning around,” he grins sadly. “I had a nice time tonight. Your friends care a lot about you. I can tell. Thank you for asking me to come along,” he says. Agron smiles brightly and squeezes his hand. “This is me,” Nasir says, stopping in front of an old brick building. “Well, not me, but this is where I’m staying.”
“Oh,” Agron says, as Nasir releases his hand and takes a step backwards towards the door. He instinctively grabs back Nasir’s hand, and runs his fingertip over the symbol tattooed there. Saxa had asked about Nasir’s tattoos during dinner and he had explained this one was Maori for ‘luck.’
“Agron…thank you…” Nasir says almost fervently. “I don’t…I don’t know what this is…” he says, gesturing between them. “But whatever it is…I’m so, so thankful for it. I’m not used to people being…kind…to me,” he tries to explain.
Agron looks up into Nasir’s deep brown eyes. He wants to take away all of the sadness and torment he sees in them. He can see what an amazing and beautiful person Nasir truly is, underneath all the sorrow, misfortune, and defensiveness. “You don’t deserve any of what’s happened to you, Nasir,” he says quietly.
“Neither do you,” Nasir responds.
Both of them stare silently for a moment at Nasir hand, held gently in Agron’s. “Nasir…I want to kiss you,” he says hesitantly. Agron’s face twists with emotion. Nasir gasps in a small breath and looks off into the dark. “Please?” Agron whispers desperately.
“Agron…,” Nasir breathes.
“I, I want it to not be a fluke. I want it to not be about the damn play. I want it to just be you and me,” he says, stepping closer, and placing a hand to the side of Nasir’s face.
“I don’t know if I can,” Nasir says, closing his eyes nuzzling into the hesitant caress.
“Why?” Agron asks, his brilliant green eyes searching Nasir’s face for answers.
“Because if I start, I might not be able to stop. I want it so bad. I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, and flinches a little at the soft sound that Agron makes in response. “And Glaber…”
“…Doesn’t deserve you. Anyone that could even think of hurting you does not deserve you,” spits out softly but darkly.
“What’re you gonna do Agron? Save me?” Nasir asks with a sad smile.
“I’m going to try,” Agron states leaning forward closing the distance between them.
Nasir does not respond, nor does he need to. He just closes the distance between them and pushes up into Agron’s kiss. He twines his fingers back into the soft short hair at the nape of his neck to anchor himself. It starts softly and almost sweetly, but gradually turns desperate and deep, and when Nasir breaks away, he looks as if his world his been turned upside down and backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Agron says, as Nasir turns and climbs the stairs. He glances back a few times on the way to make sure his daydreams had not manifested out of pure need and wild hope.
“Promise?” Nasir asks when he reaches the door.
“Yeah,,” Agron responds with a hopeful smile.
“Okay. Goodnight then,” Nasir replies before disappearing into the deep shadows, through the doorway and out of sight.
~*~