Work Text:
Nick didn’t have the concentration for work. Picking up the phone and putting it back down again after a few garbled words. He wasn’t taking anything in, and the office was so busy he was sure no one would notice him walking out. Like a ghost, he stood, packed up his things and exited the chaos. He caught the next train to Long Island and walked the rest of the way to his cottage in West Egg. It was a route he was all too familiar with, and his wandering feet brought him not to the door of his cottage, but the gate opposite that led into Gatsby’s estate. An unusual silence had settled over the grounds like dew.
Nick paced across the lawn and up the marble steps, where he froze at the top. The usually cerulean swimming pool was dark with a sickening shade of copper, and in the centre was Jay Gatsby himself. Dropping his briefcase, Nick felt himself running to the pool and jumping in without a second thought. With frantic strokes, he swam to the body and hauled Gatsby onto his back. He was unmoving and limp, limbs heavy as Nick attempted to shake him. But the bullet in his chest was all the confirmation Nick needed as the blood smeared over his hands. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but no sound would come. They were alone, after everything, they were alone, but not in the way Nick had ever anticipated.
~*~
Nick awoke with a start. The room around him was dark and silent, but for his frantic breaths. He blinked quickly to wipe those images from his mind. They had been painfully vivid down to every detail. Of course, Nick knew the house like the back of his hand, and he knew every inch of the man he’d grasped in the pool. He took another quick, shaking breath, struggling to fill his lungs. Nick was familiar with the feeling, and yet it didn’t get much better each time. The problem with being a writer was how active his imagination could get. Although Nick's current novel was based on true events, disguised as fiction, he was struggling with the ending. He couldn’t tell the truth without putting this new, comfortable life he’d made for himself on the line.
Trying his best to regulate his breathing, Nick closed his eyes, but the image of murky water remained tattooed to his eyelids. Sleep wasn’t going to be an option then. Nick went back to staring at the elaborate ceiling for a moment before rolling onto his side. His dread was immediately soothed at the sight of Jay Gatsby sound asleep beside him. Everything was okay, Gatsby was fine. Nick studied him; the rise and fall of his chest beneath silk pyjamas, his usually oiled hair askew on the pillow, and the still softness of his features in the moonlight. He was alive, and Nick repeated this to himself over and over, trying to find peace with that. He hated to wake him in situations like this, but Nick hadn’t felt so shaken in months.
“Jay.” The silence was thick around Nick's words. Jay was never a deep sleeper, which was why Nick wasn’t surprised that one whisper of his name roused him. Eyes still closed, Jay reached a hand over the sheets until it found Nick’s, grasping it gently. A sudden warmth eased Nick’s anxiety significantly, and he shuffled closer so he could almost feel Jay's breath on his forehead. The other man had yet to open his eyes, and for a moment, Nick was worried he’d drifted off again until he spoke.
“You okay?” He murmured.
Nick pondered how to respond. Technically, he was fine, but he wasn’t sure just watching Jay sleep would be enough to distract himself this time.
“Jay.” He whispered again, unsure he was capable of other words. His voice shook this time, enough that it alerted Jay to his distress, and the other man finally opened his eyes.
“Nick?” He frowned in concern, raising his free hand to stroke Nick's cheek. Amongst his panic, he hadn’t realised he was crying. “Hey, it’s okay.” Jay didn’t hesitate in pulling Nick into his chest, cradling his head and pressing a kiss to his hair.
Nick let his hands find the warm skin of Jay's chest beneath his shirt, coming to rest one palm over his heart. Finally, Nick felt his lungs loosen and the air he’d been gasping for filled them with relief. Jay held him tightly, one hand in his hair while the other rubbed soothing circles up and down his spine. Nick wanted to hide in his warm scent forever, but he knew Jay would need an explanation eventually.
“Want to talk about it, Old Sport?” He murmured.
Nick didn’t, but he forced himself away despite this. Jay's eyes were full of concern as he cupped Nick’s face and wiped his cheeks dry with his thumbs.
Nick sighed and turned his teary eyes back to the ceiling. Jay propped himself onto his elbow so he could still see Nick. He clasped his hand over Nicks, where he played with a loose thread on the sheets.
“It was just a nightmare.” Nick began. “But—“
Jay squeezed his hand.
“But I—you—“ he choked on a sob, wishing this was easier. “That day, I came home and you were—“
Jay nodded in understanding. “I see.” He whispered. “But I’m here, see,” he turned Nick's face gently to look up at him. “I’m okay.
Nick nodded silently and let Jay lean down and kiss him softly. He let the feeling of Jay's lips wash over him, comfort him. Jay lowered himself back onto the pillow, his nose grazing Nick's cheek in a reassuring presence.
“Jay, I’m not sure I can go back to sleep,” Nick said guiltily. He didn’t want to stop Jay from sleeping, but he selfishly didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.
“That’s okay. Do you want to talk? Or I can read something to you—“ Jay shuffled away, and panic snatched Nick's breath again. Before he could scramble up and follow, Jay's bedside lamp flickered on and a golden hue filled the room. Nick took more calming breaths, counting the seconds before exhaling.
“Can we just talk about something else?” Nick asked as Jay sat up against the velvet headboard.
“I’ve been thinking about the garden recently.” Jay started with little hesitation. Conversation had always come so easily to them, even when Jay had mainly told Nick a pack of lies about himself. For now, Nick couldn’t care less whether Jay was telling the truth or not.
“You have?” Nick followed Jay's lead, sitting himself up and leaning his weight into his chest. Jay absentmindedly trailed his fingers up and down Nick's arm as his other hand settled in his hair.
“It looks marvellous in the warmer months, but now, in the winter, it’s a little dull and bare. I think we should look at planting something that flourishes all year round.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Oh, I haven’t the first idea about plants and gardening, but I’d love to try.” Jay chuckled, and Nick found himself smiling. Jay was always suggesting new hobbies to pursue.
“There must be something about it in one of your many books in the library.”
“Quite right, Old Sport.” Jay pressed his mouth to Nick’s hair, lingering there a moment. He could feel Jay's smile, and it comforted him.
“I had thoughts on the pool as well.”
As he spoke the words, Nick felt himself flinch. Jay paused and wrapped his arms around Nick's middle.
“Hey, hey,” he rushed to pull Nick closer as Nick's breathing became panicked again. Nick felt the sudden need to get away, prising Jay's grip from his stomach and struggling off the bed, where he hauled himself to the window, pulling it open to gulp in the fresh sea air. He didn’t dare look back at Jay; he didn’t want to see his wounded expression; he just wanted a moment. His eyes caught the dock across the sound where Daisy had once resided, and he turned quickly away before he could lay eyes on the pool below.
Originally, Nick had wanted to change the bedrooms around when he moved in with Jay. He wanted a new view that didn’t remind him of Jay's original endeavours. Jay had assured him he could have whatever he needed to be comfortable in the mansion, but he’d settled in so easily, and none of the other rooms felt quite as right as this one did. This was the one room in the house that felt so inherently Jay. Where they always felt safe.
With the window open, the room filled with a brisk winter breeze and the sound of the distant water lapping at the shore. Jay was watching Nick hesitantly, his eyes full of sadness and confusion.
Nick sighed, leaning back against the window, welcoming the cool air against his flushed skin. “In my dream— nightmare, you were in the pool,” he finally spoke, refusing to meet Jay's eyes. “Someone shot you and you fell in, and when I got there—“
Jay was out of bed and across the room in no time, gathering Nick into his arms. Nick accepted the hug, wrapping his arms around Jay's back and tucking his head under his chin. Having admitted what he’d seen, Nick felt it all wash away. It was only him, Jay and the sound of the waves.
When Jay pulled back, it was all too soon. Nick attempted to hide in his neck for a little longer, but Jay held his face between his palms.
“Look at me.” He said, blue eyes intense as they met Nicks. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere .”
Nick nodded and let his hand find Jay's heart again, feeling its heavy beating beneath his skin, now chilled from the open window. Jay smiled softly and leaned in to take Nick's lips in his own. A firm kiss that spoke more than words of reassurance. Nick choked back a sob as he responded. He wished he could stop crying.
Jay pulled away as Nick's tears dribbled salt onto their lips. Once again, he brushed them away and took Nick's hand, pulling him back towards the bed.
“Can I get you anything? Perhaps a drink?”
Nick hesitated a moment before shaking his head. He knew alcohol wouldn’t fix this. He just wanted Jay to stay.
With a nod, Jay slid the window shut, drew the curtains together and settled himself back in bed, opening his arms for Nick to fall into.
“What’s got you so worked up tonight, do you think?” He asked gently.
Nick shrugged from where he had settled at Jay's side. “My book, I suppose.”
Jay hummed in understanding. “There’s no rush, you know?”
“I can’t just live off your money, Jay. It doesn’t feel right.”
“I understand. But it’s only been a few months. You need to be gentler on yourself.”
Nick felt his eyes drooping. Jay was right. Although the last few weeks had felt like a lifetime, it was only down to sheer will that Nick had managed to write at all. Having not written in a long time, he’d picked up his pen and used that ink to process everything from that summer. But the story still needed an ending.
“Perhaps that’s how you end your book,” Jay spoke softly, as though reading Nick's mind.
“No, I couldn’t.” Nick wanted to shut down the thought. He couldn’t think of it any more. He felt Jay shrug.
“As I said, give it time. You’ll feel better about it the longer you wait, and I’ll be with you every second if you need me to be.”
They lapsed into silence, and for a moment Nick was sure Jay had fallen asleep. He tilted his head to see, but Jay still glanced off into the room, so perfect and golden in the lamplight. Nick rested his head over Jay's heart and pulled the sheets to cover them further. In this warm cocoon, he felt himself drifting off, finally to the images of the last few months. Gatsby laughing and smiling more than Nick had ever seen him do over the summer, spending Thanksgiving and Christmas together, their first kiss.
This was only the beginning, and no matter what Nick wrote for the rest of the world, they had the choice of how they continued their story.