Work Text:
2005
Nick has been putting off cleaning out his closet for many reasons. One of those reasons is knowing how time consuming it will be; he has quite a lot of stuff. His luxurious walk in is piled high, mostly with clothes, since he just can’t part with anything.
He’s not exactly a hoarder, he just likes to keep every outfit he has ever worn. Forever. It used to be more organized chaos, but somewhere down the line, it turned into pure chaos. He hasn’t seen the back wall in a long time.
Simon suggested he should set an entire day aside and go through it, put things in storage that he hasn’t touched in years if he’s going to keep them. After putting it off as long as possible, that day has come. The task that’s been looming over his head is finally underway.
Starting is the hardest part. Once he gets going, it isn’t long before their bedroom starts looking like a bomb went off. Clothes are piled upon their king sized bed: dress shirts, jackets, scarves, ties, hats. It’s a bit overwhelming but he keeps going, taking everything out, sorting it into keep and store piles.
He doesn’t even hear Simon come in the room, too busy trying to dig his way out of his own closet.
“Oh, there you are,” he laughs, stepping over mountains of shoes on the floor. “I knew you had a lot of clothes. But seeing it all spread out, I’m starting to realize I vastly underestimated you.”
Nick rolls his eyes and smiles. “Believe me, I think I underestimated it myself. I’ve barely hit the center of the madness.”
“Need some help?”
“Please.”
It’s much easier with Simon’s assistance. Together they work their way to the back of the closet, the room filling with clothes of all kinds. There’s impulse purchases with the tags still on, well-loved pieces that just haven’t stood the test of time, and even some things Nick had completely forgotten he owned.
It takes time, but they finally approach the back wall. They both look at one another knowingly when Simon picks up something Nick hasn’t seen in years. His jaw drops.
“Is that…”
“What you danced in the night we met?”
Nick nods, touching the black bodysuit. The memories come flooding back. That night changed his life.
“Look how small I was,” he notices. “I don’t think I would fit in this now.”
“You haven’t stripped in twenty years, Nick. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Simon looks at the outfit, playing the memory over in his mind. “You were beautiful then and you’re just as beautiful now,” he adds, then leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek.
Nick feels lucky. He often forgets his life before Simon, and finding this piece is a reminder of it. He remembers that loneliness he felt even when surrounded by friends, that thirst he couldn’t quite quench with meaningless one night stands. Simon came into the picture at just the right time and place.
“I’m glad Andy put me on center pole that night.”
“I am too. God, I was so nervous to meet you. Shaking in my boots.”
Nick chuckles, recalling how hard he was blushing. “You were nervous? Do you remember how red my face was? Far past the point of blaming the makeup.”
“I was incredibly nervous. You were larger than life.” Simon adds the bodysuit to the teetering storage pile. He then pulls Nick into an irresistible embrace. “I think part of me knew you would be the one.”
“I knew you were the one,” Nick says into the crook of his shoulder. He sighs happily against Simon. “Listen to us. We find one Arcadia relic and we go all soft, what’s that all about?”
“Old married couple things, I suppose.”
Nick smacks Simon’s chest, feigning offense. “Old? Speak for yourself.”
Laughing, Simon then dives back into Nick’s now roomy closet. He comes back out with an unlabeled box. Nick knows exactly what’s in that box.
“And is this the infamous Arcadia box?” Simon asks, opening the flaps of the box to reveal a sparkly ensemble or two. Or three. Or twenty. “How did I know?”
There’s fishnets, leather, sequins, lace too. Black is the dominating color in the box, though there are some colorful pieces, like soft pinks and baby blues. Passionate, ravishing reds make an appearance, and Simon remembers just how much he loves that color on Nick.
“I cried when I packed all that stuff away,” Nick admits. “I knew it was time, we wanted to do music full time. It just felt bittersweet, you know? Leaving it all behind after working there for so long.”
Simon looks to him, pulling something out from the bottom of the box. It’s a photo album, black leather of course. It reads Arcadia in an elegant embossed font on the front.
“I haven’t seen this since I put it in the box,” Nick gapes. He’s never been one to look back often, never been one for needless nostalgia. But today feels like the right day to reminisce. He almost feels like it’s necessary.
“C’mon, let’s look through it.” Simon seems to read his mind.
They push some piles of clothes aside and reclaim their bed, Simon lying down with the album in hand. Nick settles beside him, head on his chest, slotting against his lover perfectly.
Simon opens the photo album to a grainy polaroid picture of the two of them, shortly after they met. Their faces are smushed together, smiles wide. Nick’s black hair is higher than the heavens and his glittery eye makeup is applied to perfection.
“We were damn cute,” Simon comments, admiring the photo.
“And we still are.”
Simon turns the page, full of pictures of the inside of the club. Nick’s memories of it are so vivid that he doesn’t need to see them, but it’s still nice all the same. He couldn’t possibly forget that red neon sign, that decadent stage lighting, or the high ceilings, shrouded in darkness as the nightlife glows below.
“Remember how it always smelled faintly of roses?” Simon asks, voice alive with memory.
“Roses and expensive alcohol,” Nick adds. “Never too strong though. It was nice.”
The next page reveals photos of Nick dancing in various outfits that Simon remembers even after all these years. His legs grip the pole as he leans back in one, and another, he’s on his knees before the camera, giving it a sultry stare.
“Woah, who took those?” he inquires, looking to Nick beside him.
“John, with my old polaroid camera. I made him take a lot of pictures for me, and he always did. I miss him.”
“You should call him.”
They haven’t seen John and Roger in months. “I will tonight, now turn the page.”
A vast spread of photos occupy this section. Nick recognizes them as all the employees around the time he and Simon started getting serious. They were a family, a dysfunctional but happy family.
“John, Roger, Andy, Warren, Dale, Amanda, you, and me.” Simon smiles. “Lots of happy couples there, huh?”
“Certainly. Although Warren and Amanda got divorced, not too long ago actually.”
“Really? I always thought they’d be forever. And oh, Andy. He looks like he would rather be anywhere else than in front of that camera.”
Nick looks to his picture. The shades and solemn expression do make him look quite miserable. “He hated having his photo taken, remember?”
“He was a bit strange, come to think of it,” Simon remarks.
“He was a good boss though.”
“I still can’t believe you gave him a lap dance. And sucked him off.” There is no anger present in Simon’s voice, it’s more so humor. Nick had told him years ago, at first thinking it would perhaps make him angry, but his new husband felt nothing of the sort.
Of course, it helped that he never saw him again after their wedding. Andy ended up selling the club a few months into 1986, moving his family to Ibiza.
Nick has gladly left that memory in the past. “That was not my proudest moment, that’s for certain.”
“You think he would have enjoyed a threesome with us?”
Nick starts to laugh, haunted by the mere thought. “Please don’t put that image in my mind, Simon.”
Simon is in stitches too. “Alright, let’s put that to rest before we give ourselves nightmares, shall we?”
The next page of photos helps them forget; it’s all of themselves. They’re attached at the lips, sitting together in the dressing room, sharing a drink at the bar, working together in the studio. There’s Simon helping him in a costume, then Simon helping him out of the same costume, but not in his Arcadia dressing room.
“Didn’t we take photos of each other that night, while we were—”
“Yes, and they are—”
Simon turns the page. “And there they are. Kinky.”
Nick looks at the artfully nude and sexual photos of the two of them. “Warhol would have been impressed.”
“Impressed? I say aroused.”
“Can’t disagree with that.”
Simon turns the page again. “And here come the wedding photos!”
Though they have some copies of these pictures hanging around the house, there are quite a few that are exclusive to this album. They’re smashing wedding cake in each other’s faces, getting icing in their blonde hair. They’re dancing together and smiling. They’re kissing, genuinely elated and drunk on love. Their last night in Arcadia was surely spent the right way.
“Is that all?” Nick asks, not wanting this moment to end.
There’s one more photo left. It’s of the two of them, kissing beneath the Arcadia sign. Simon scribbled in a note underneath the picture, combining a lyric from their debut single and something he still says to this day.
Maximum big surprise
Your smile is something new
Nick,
I love you
“You wrote that in, after our honeymoon,” Nick recalls, smiling softly. “You’re a true poet.”
Simon closes the album, pushing it aside. He then turns and captures Nick’s lips in a passionate kiss. Even after so many years together, their flame just keeps on burning.
The kisses multiply, growing desperate. Nick eventually parts to straddle Simon, hands clutching onto his, his heart so full of feeling that he isn’t sure what to do with himself.
Looking back has made him appreciate the present in a new way. Another kiss proves he’s possibly the luckiest man in the world.
“The clothes can wait,” Simon mumbles against his mouth. “I want you now.”