Chapter Text
Nigel is already seething when he steps inside a room lit only by black lights and the harsh glow from dozens of computer screens. He wonders when internet cafes started looking like nightclubs.
“What the fuck is this Darko? Some sort of fucking spaceship themed, geek night club?” Nigel growls into the phone clutched in his hand.
He feels foolish for even being in a place like this, surrounded by people not only younger but far more tech savvy than he’ll ever be. It’s that feeling of ignorance that has Nigel even more pissed off than usual.
“What the hell are you on about? I looked up the closest place with rentable computers and there you go.” Darko sighs heavily. “And who fucking cares what it looks like? Just hurry your ass, the client will be logging onto to Skype in 20 minutes.”
Nigel grumbles at that, still standing at the room's entrance, eyeing the electronics and people like they are part of a plot to destroy him.
“I have to log onto this 'skip' too then?”
“Nenorocitule, I clearly said Skype and you still haven’t created an account like I told you, huh?”
“Fuck you pizdă! I’m no fucking child. We didn’t have all this fancy shit when I was a kid.” Nigel says angrily, getting louder by the minute and causing some patrons to shush him without even glancing his way. It makes him that much angrier that he can’t even properly intimidate anyone in the establishment.
“It’s not that hard, old man,” Darko chuckles. “If only you had let me buy you a smartphone this would all have been so much easier. But, of course, you still think a phone that flips is cool. So just suck it up and ask someone how to log onto a computer, into Skype and then-“
“I’ve gotta log in a computer now too!?" Nigel roars. "What the fuck else, Darko?! Shall I launch rockets into orbit as well?!”
---
Adam was tucked into the spot he was every Wednesday, the closest seat next to the door of the cafe.
‘Be social,’ his father had said. ‘Social interaction is an important part of being an adult, Adam.’
Since his father was gone, his two hour ‘social activity’ remains on his weekly schedule. He had happened on this place by accident a few weeks ago. With the internet being frustratingly slow in his apartment building, the small cafe had caught his interest. It was a quicker walk than to the library and the library didn't serve cheese sticks.
And it was social, Adam had realized. People didn't really socialize with each other here, but there were people in a social setting. So, this was his social activity.
It didn't take long for Adam to pick up a space-themed game and even enjoy his weekly visits. Here he could hide under the large headphones that cushioned his ears against the sounds he found unpleasant and allow his fingers to tap against the colored keyboard. His busy fingers seemed to send calm waves from their tips when he fell into a constant, smooth pattern of keys. Even his eyes and attention were kept distracted by the lights and constant interactions of the screen.
That was, when people weren't yelling.
Adam slowly moved the puffy headset from his ears and let it fall around his neck as he observed the man. Most of the time, it was rude to listen to other’s conversations, but the man wasn't making it easy to ignore the curses that spilled from his mouth. People were usually fairly quiet except for the occasional bursts of profanity or frustrated groans.
The man's appearance distracted him for a moment before he could remember he was upset.
The cursing man didn't look like most of the men that came and passed by Adam. Most of the customers of the cafe weren't as tall as he was, most didn't have blonde hair that seemed very touchable and soft against anxious hands. He nearly felt bad for whoever he was yelling at on the phone, the man didn’t seem like someone you would want to fight with. Adam imagined his muscled arms and heavy hands were capable of fighting, among other things that hands and arms were good for.
Even his shirt was eye catching.
While Hawaiian shirts were common, Adam had never seen a shirt covered in dogs instead of flowers. He had to wonder if the little orange Dachshunds were a reference to something Adam didn't understand. Funny shirt and soft hair or not, he was being loud.
“You aren't supposed to be that loud, you're being disruptive. And logging into a computer isn't comparable to launching rockets. To launch a rocket, given that you've already done your calculations, you’d have to mix the oxidizer and the propellant correctly, through hoses.
“For the Space Shuttle, the process took about six hours. Many rockets with a heavy payload need an extra boost off the ground, so they have additional solid fuel motors, which burn a murky slurry combo of combustibles. And when it's launched the transition from subsonic to supersonic speed, Mach 1, or about 760 mph, puts a heap of stress on a rocket, so you have to control the throttle adequately. Throttling back the liquid engines temporarily removes the force of acceleration to help the rocket get through the sonic barrier, and once it does, you can open the throttle back up to push on into orbit. But all you need to sign into a computer is a username, password, and form of payment. They aren't very similar.”
After he finished explaining, Adam practically beamed with pride. He was socializing.
---
Nigel stared, jaw dropped to his chest, at the young man seated to his right. Nigel's gut reaction is to knock the guy out for reprimanding him, but not only is there a more pressing matter at hand, the guy is also pretty hot.
Nigel finds this fact allows him a patience that he's rarely known as the man goes on and on about rockets; explaining who the fuck knows what about them, but sounding damned smart about it.
“I think I've found help- Darko? Fucker!” Nigel says into his phone but gets no response. He looks at it and sees Darko has ended the call.
“That little cock sucking piece of shit hung up on me,” Nigel mutters in disbelief as he pockets the phone and then aims his intense focus at his only option to get online.
“You, Rocketman. You can help me then,” Nigel tells the guy, he doesn’t ask.
“Oh. Um.” Adam's eyes returned to his own screen for a moment before looking back at the loud stranger. “Okay, I can help you.”
It would have been mean of him to have not helped.
“Would you like to sit next to me? It would be easier to show you.” As he spoke, Adam pulled the black headphones back over his head to neatly set it down at the computer desk.
Nigel's smirk is especially smug as he claims the proffered seat. He likes when people are quick to obey him.
“Right. I need to log in a thing called skape for an interview, have you heard of it?” Nigel states easily, suddenly confident that he knows what he’s talking about.
“Skape?” Adam frowned as he thought. “Well there's Runescape, but I don't think people have interviews there. Is it a game, O-or a program or…” He tried to guess what the older man meant. He'd seen interviews take place in the back on occasion, but not on ‘skape’.
“There's Skype. People have interviews there.” He offered.
“Yeah that, whatever,” Nigel shoves down the shame of his ignorance once again.
He would have pistol whipped any other man that dared correct him. It's lucky for the kid that Nigel liked his face as much as he needed his help.
“I never made a fucking username thing neither.” He slides a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, pulls out a stick with his lips.
“Oh, well that isn't very hard.” Adam rolled his chair closer besides the man and shifted the keyboard and mouse towards himself. “You just need a phone nu-”
Adam had turned his head to glance at the man only to see him place a cigarette in his mouth. “You can't smoke in here.”
Nigel’s lighter freezes halfway to his face. He contemplates, again, telling the nosy little fucker off; until he finally gets a better look at him.
He gets only a too brief glimpse of beautiful blue eyes as they work hard to avoid his own. He finds solace watching pretty, magenta tinted lips as they are caught between perfect teeth.
Nigel gives himself a mental shake as he checks the time. He needs this interview to go off without a hitch so he tosses the cigarette, lighter, and cell phone onto the tabletop between their computers.
“No elevated voices, no smoking, and you’ve my cellular now. What else can I fucking do for you, gorgeous?”
“You could stop cursing,” Adam suggested. “You've said 10 curse words since you came in. And you really shouldn't smoke at all, smoking is bad for your skin, teeth, and lungs. And it makes you smell funny.”
“I’ll take that into consideration, darling,” Nigel says with a chuckle having no intention of stopping fucking cussing or smoking.
He then suspects that his lack of anger towards the other man is due in part to his way of speaking; his brutal honesty makes him all the more attractive.
Adam avoided the rest of what was on the table to take Nigel's phone. The man had a flip phone, Adam smiled. Maybe he was what Harlan called a ‘damned hipster’. That would explain the odd shirt he supposed.
After a moment of quick keystrokes, the boy was done with what he could help with.
“You can pick a name and password and then put in everything else.” With downcast eyes and a slight smile on his lips, Adam looked back up towards the man. “Then you should be able to do your interview.”
Nigel leans closer to the computer screen, barely understanding what he was seeing. His eyes then dropped to the keyboard and narrow further as he begins typing his name with just his right forefinger. He then enters his birth date for a password, it being the only one he’s ever used.
Hesitantly, Adam inched his chair back towards his own desk, and more importantly his waiting game. The man didn't seem to need any more help.
Nigel completes his sign up, the rest was self-explanatory. He steals glances at his neighbor as he waits the last five minutes until his meeting.
“So, I smell, do I? Am I really that disgusting?” Nigel asks in hopes of prolonging the conversation.
The odd question sits in Adam's mind. He could think of a few descriptive words for the man but he didn't think disgusting was one of them. With his eyes determinedly focused on the black screen, he answered the question with as much of a matter of fact tone as he gave to his rockets.
“You aren't disgusting. Actually, you're fairly attractive which tends to be the opposite of disgusting. Even if you smell like tobacco.”
Nigel grinned. He truly enjoyed that bluntness.
“That’s wonderful to know.” He leans towards him, extending his hand. “I’m Nigel by the way.”
“My name is Adam Raki.” Adam looked down at the outstretched hand before placing his own in Nigel's. Limply Adam shook the man's hand but his attention remained defiantly on Nigel’s gripping hand instead of the determined eyes that searched for Adam's.
“Adam Raki,” Nigel rolls the name on his tongue, holding firm to his hand as Adam still refuses to meet his eyes. “I’m sure you can tell I’m shit at computers so thank you for the help.”
“Nigel.” He repeated the name given to him. If he repeated Adam's name, maybe Adam was supposed to do it too. He let go of Nigel's hand and offered him a second small smile.
“You're welcome. If um, if you like, you can add me on Skype. To make sure it's set up properly.” He offered
Nigel’s eyes widen at Adam’s offer, marveling at how easy it is to get a number these days.
“I would like that, darling,” He all but purrs at Adam before turning back to the computer. He squints as he scans the screen to ‘add’ Adam. “But how in the hell do I accomplish that?”
“Oh. You have to search for my name it’s um….” Adam's eyes shifted to his computer to focus intently on the black screen. “It's spaceslut1969.” He informed the blank screen in a quick, hushed breath.
Nigel turned slowly to the boy who was avoiding him more completely now.
“Spaceslut1969?” Nigel fought a grin. He knew people exaggerated on the internet, especially with their names, but… “Are you a slut, Adam?”
Adam could feel a searing heat spread across his face and knew he was blushing. The name coming from Nigel’s mouth and the following question scratched mercilessly at his uncovered ears.
“No! No, I'm... I'm not a... that was a joke I-I’ve had the name since I was 15, I didn't really know what that word meant until I was older. Mark told me the word meant I really, really liked space and now I think it's humorous b-because that’s that’s not what slut really means. I am not attracted sexually to space, o-or the moon landing, or men in weird shirts.”
The words came rushing out of Adam in a single, drawn out breath. It was a stupid name, Adam had known that but silly names didn't normally have to be explained to real people.
He didn't turn his gaze to Nigel once in his tumbling of words. His eyes remained on the screen as his hands tapped furiously on the wooden desk as if he could make Nigel and his questions leave. If only he found the correct rhythm to use.
Nigel smiles throughout Adam’s nervous rant as he types in the younger man’s screen name. He sees how easy it is to use the Skype now and scoops up his cell. He finds the text message Darko sent with the new client’s name and searches for that too. He checks the time, seeing he still had a few minutes to spare.
“You needn’t make excuses, darling. Being a slut isn’t something to be ashamed of in my book.” Nigel teases. “But what’s this about weird shirts? You don’t like dogs?”
“I know it's not shameful to have numerous sexual partners, but I've only had sex with 3 people. I-it's supposed to be a joke I already said that. And I like dogs! I don't own any but my cousin in Virginia has seven dogs and I like them.” Adam grew more frustrated as he continued to tap at the desk which quickly became more like hitting the desk than lightly tapping his fingers on it.
Nigel finally realizes that Adam is getting more agitated than embarrassed.
“I’m sorry to make you so upset Adam. I must admit, it’s difficult not to encourage your gorgeous blushing.” Nigel checks his watch again, seeing that it’s time to make his call. He leans over and places a hand over Adam’s to still his frantic hands before sliding the headphones that sit at each station. Nigel places a finger to his lips, indicating for Adam to be silent.
Any words Adam might have given in response to the apology became lost in his throat as Nigel's hand fell on his. He glanced back towards him and immediately recognized the signal. That meant, be quiet.
He shoved his words down further as he pulled his hands back and with quick, jerky movements he shoved his things back into his satchel and silently rose from his seat. Adam traveled the short route to the door and without a look back, he slipped through it. Adam's social activity was over, he wanted to go back home and change his stupid Skype name.
Nigel opened his mouth to call Adam back. He hadn't meant to run him off, he just needed a few minutes to-
"Nigel, my friend! Ready to talk business" The Russian's voice grates on Nigel's ears as much as his ugly face offends his eyes.
Nigel spares a minute to regret Adam's leaving but then he smiles at the thought of finding the boy soon enough. He squares his shoulders, ready to get to work.
"Kirill, let's do this."