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Jett Jones

Jett Jones

Posts : 372
Join date : 2016-11-24

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PostSubject: Happy birthday!    Happy birthday!  EmptyFri Mar 02, 2018 12:28 pm

This isn't even close to finished, I had a lot more planned for it but it was the only thing long enough to post for you and I wanted to give you a present heheh

Nikita feels like he's going to vomit. The room is spinning around him and he doesn't think it's stopping any time soon.
Ollie is pregnant.
For a former whore, surprisingly enough, it's not the commitment to Ollie that scares him. He's been in love with Ollie almost as long as he can remember. Now that they're finally together, he fully intends on spending the rest of his life by the boy's side. He doesn't even have a problem with marriage, sees it in their future a few years down the road.
But the commitment to raising a child for the next eighteen years?
He's got a harder time dealing with that one.
Ollie broke the news about an hour ago and Nikita had tried to remain calm. He had nodded, said okay, made sure that Ollie was against an abortion, then asked for a moment to breathe.
Then he ran.
Now he's resting in some alleyway where fight club is every other Thursday night, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to breathe, like he had said.
He should be calling Ollie at least, reassuring him that they are okay, that the problem isn't with him, that he's not running away.
Ollie is the pregnant one, after all. He is probably in tears, wondering if he'll have to raise this child alone.
Nikky should comfort him.
But he is selfish and he doesn't think he has it in him to pretend everything is okay right now.
He glances over at the spot where the ring will sit on Thursday night. He's been a fighter for so many years now that he has cemented his status as a headliner. Every fight he's in is a main event. He has a fight on Thursday night, two days from now. He imagines the people crowding the ring, chanting his name.
Only, that's never going to happen now.
The money he makes is not enough to support a family. He can't go out and risk his life every night when he's got a pregnant boyfriend and in nine months, a baby waiting for daddy to come home.
He needs a real job.
And that's what scares him. Not just the thought of having to deal with a baby. He actually thinks he might be good at it. It's the thought of what needs to be done to give it a good life.
It's the thought of being stuck working long hours in some stuffy office to provide for his family only to find that it's still not enough, that in twenty years the kid will resent him for not being home and spending time with him. It's the fear that he will turn out just like his father, trying his hardest to be Dad of the year and still not getting it right.
No more smoking late at night on the roof with Ollie curled in his lap, no more late nights out getting shitfaced and calling Eustass to bring them home.
What he's most afraid of is that having a kid means he has to stop being one.
After a few minutes of letting his thoughts consume him, he pulls himself to his feet and starts walking a few blocks over, to the building he knows where the fights are held tonight. He's not scheduled but he doesn't care.
It's his last night as a fighter and he's going out with a bang.
He arrives and makes his way through the crowd with his hood pulled up, watches the fight going on as he finds whoever is in charge tonight. It's a man he's seen a few times before but rarely talks to. He never needs to, doesn't cause any problems that need to be handled by the promoters. He gets there on time, does his fights, collects his money, and gets the fuck out.
"Nikky? The hell are you doing here?"
"Fighting. Put me in."
"You're not on the card."
"Don't care, I want in." Nikita finds that his accent is thicker when he's stressed or angry. Right now, it's a little bit of both. "Come on, don't act like it's an issue. I draw more money anyways."
"And just who am I supposed to put in there with you?"
"Anybody you've got. Or I'll accept challenges from the crowd if you want."
"No ones gonna be stupid enough to fight you, kid. And you know that's a liability."
"Please." Nikita clasps his hands together, eyes pleading with the man until finally, he sighs and nods slowly.
"Alright, you can get in there and ask for a challenger but don't be mad at me if ya don't get one. And try to get a nice clean knockout, alright? Don't get me sued."
"You got it." Nikita grins brightly, pats the man on the back. By now, the last fight had ended. He takes the opportunity to step into the empty ring. There's a murmur of confusion before he lowers his hood and then it turns to excitement. He smiles, feels his heartbeat escalating.
He will miss this.
"I've got some news." He announces. "Tonight's my last fight. And I haven't got an opponent yet. So anyone who thinks they're man enough to send me out with a loss, bring it on." He tosses his hoodie out of the ring onto the ground, followed by his t-shirt. He normally fights in basketball shorts but looks like his jeans will have to do tonight.
Then he waits.
His challenger is a shorter man built like a brick house. Nikita is reminded of Gally almost. Gally reminds him of home and he is so distracted for a moment that he doesn't hear the bell ring, lets the man get the first shot, right to his jaw. It's strong enough to knock him on his ass but it only gets the adrenaline pumping. He's back up within seconds, a flurry of movement as he lunges at the other man.
The knockout is called at one minute and twenty seven seconds into the first round.
Nikita's heart is still pounding in his ears, adrenaline coursing through him. He's basking in the cheers of the crowd and he knows then that he's not finished yet.
He takes on three more challengers before he is exhausted, ready to call it a night. None of the fights lasted more than the first round.
He lumbers out of the ring, giving tired smiles as he is greeted and slapped on the back more times than he can count. Finally, he makes it to the promoter, accepts his cash.
"Last fight, huh?"
"Mhm. Sorry for not letting you know earlier." Nikita shrugs. "I'm gonna be a dad."
"Oh? Good luck with that." The man chuckles but Nikky doesn't find it all that funny.
"Thanks." He pockets the money, heads over to where he tossed his shirt and jacket. He slips them on before heading back to Eustass's place.
Strangely, his heart is beating faster than when he'd been in the ring.
On his way, he counts the money in his pocket. He finishes while standing on the front doorstep, commits the number to memory before entering.
This house has always been just as much of a home to him as his real one. Tonight is the first time he's ever been nervous to enter.
Ollie is sitting on the living room couch, eyes redrimmed and still watery. Nikita catches a flash of ginger hair as Mal leaves the room. He's known these boys their entire life, knows that they were most likely shit talking him but then heard him coming just in time for Ollie to wipe his eyes and tell Mal to leave.
He also knows that he deserves it, whatever they were saying about him.
Nikita doesn't say anything at first. Ollie doesn't either, only stares in shock as the Russian walks straight past him and into the kitchen.
Thankfully, Nikky returns a moment later with an empty jar in his hands. He extends it to Ollie who accepts it with a confused look.
"What the fuck is this supposed to do for me?" Ollie speaks but goes silent as Nikita pulls the wad of cash from his pocket.
"Four hundred and thirty eight dollars." Nikita spreads it out, letting Ollie see, before dropping it into the jar. "Baby fund. I know it's not much but it's a start." He smiles half heartedly, trying to gauge Ollie's reaction. When he gets nothing, he continues. "I know I'm going to have to get a real job. I told them it was my last fight tonight, I just wanted to say goodbye."
"You don't have to quit fighting, you idiot." Ollie sighs, reaches out to stroke the man's bruised cheek. "I wasn't even thinking about money yet. We've got time and you know Dad will help us out. Your parents too, I'm sure. You don't have to freak and get a job like tomorrow."
"I do though, Ollie. I'm the Dad. I have to provide for our family. I'm going to do it I just need some time to get used to the idea." Nikita sighs, kneels in front of the couch and takes Ollie's face in his hands. "I'm sorry for running out on you. I know you're probably as freaked out as I am. I was supposed to tell you it was gonna be okay and be the strong one. I didn't do my job so I'm sorry for that. I know I don't deserve anything from you but I need one more favor. I just need twenty four hours. Twenty four hours for me to get this immature bullshit out of my system and then the rest of these nine months are all about you."
Ollie is silent for a moment before he leans forward, captures a soft kiss.
"You have twenty four hours. Go."

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