dreamlikenewyork | "I get by with a little help from my friends..."

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"I get by with a little help from my friends..."

Who? Ainsley Ashwood and Clint Chevalier
What? Boy advice
When? Thursday, after school
Where? Clitty and Em's apartment

Ainsley had a weird way of thinking about things sometimes. He couldn't deny that. He chalked it up to being a teenage boy. But while Ange had been more than understanding and helpful with his whole crush on Harry situation, his thought processes were telling him that maybe asking a guy would be a better way to go... Preferably a guy in a relationship with another guy. And who better to ask, at least in his teenage mind, than Clitty? He could almost hear Ange protesting in his head, but he needed a guy's advice, and Clitty was like a brother to him, so it only made sense that he would go to him for big brotherly advice about crushy feelings.

He made his way to Clint and Emily's apartment and rang the buzzer, pounding on the door when Clitty didn't open up right away. "Clitty, it's me!" Ainsley yelled through the door. "Let me in! I know you're home!" He didn't really, but he might as well put on the false bravado for kicks and giggles.

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There was probably never really a 'good' time to interrupt Clint unannounced. Because the chances that you would interrupt a moment just like this present one was very, very high, to say the least. He was balls-deep in Lincoln, fucking him hard enough to have the head board banging against the wall when he heard Ainsley's yelling to let him in. Because it wasn't an expected visit, he had to take it as being out of the norm. If the kid was shouting, maybe he needed help. Clint had err on the side of caution because if Ainsley needed help and Clint ignored it, he would basically be dead by asphyxiation with his own cock when Ange got her hands on him. Lincoln was almost spent anyway. He had a fly-by trip to LA for a photoshoot, and a couple of red eye flights later, he was exhausted.

Cursing harshly as he withdrew, Clint gave Lincoln a rough kiss and told him to get some sleep. Lincoln got off, but Clint was left high and dry. He had every intention of making up for it later. Lincoln literally rolled over and crashed out while Clint was still pulling his trousers on and went through to get the door. He opened it to Ange's little brother. "What? What is it? Is someone trying to fucking murder you?"

Edited 2015-12-11 03:59 (UTC)

The idea to show up unannounced at Clint's apartment probably hadn't been one of Ainsley's finest. He had just wanted to talk to the older guy, but it hadn't quite occurred to him that Clitty would be getting his rocks off. Though he couldn't really say why it hadn't occurred to him. He knew Clitty pretty well, and he should've expected him to be in a hot and heavy fuck session. Even if Clitty didn't say it, it was pretty fucking obvious. Ainsley just smirked and pushed past Clint and into the main room of his house. "No, nobody's trying to murder me," Ainsley retorted, rolling his eyes. "I just needed to talk to you. I need to talk to a dude, not my sister, and you're like a brother, basically, so I'm here to talk to you," he said, explaining to the other guy.

He turned back around, hands on his hips, and looked Clint up and down. "Dude, are you ever not fucking?" he asked with a shake of his head. He didn't have any idea how you managed to make a living when you spent as much time having sex as Clint did, and didn't make your living as a prostitute. "I'm here because I need to talk to you about this guy..." He actually had to focus to keep a hot flush from heating up his cheeks. "It's this new guy at school, and I really like him, and I need a dude's perspective."

Clint wasn't sure he knew where this was all going. It was certainly a new situation. The first thing that was really coming to mind was that Ainsley had fucked up and gotten into trouble some way that he didn't want to tell Angela. He knew the arrangement. Ainsley was only here if he behaved himself, and if he didn't, he was back on a one-way ticket to his folks, no questions asked. It would just all depend on what the kid had done whether Clint would sit on it or tell Angela. He was far, far from innocent himself. In fact, he had racked up a hell of a lot of questionable and downright illegal things. That didn't mean he would condone them in an innocent kid who had plenty of years to learn how to fuck up himself.

"Rarely," he answered shamelessly. Except recently when the gut parasite got to him and it had knocked him quite badly. He was still taking medication for it because it didn't just clear up. You had to wait for the bug to die out in your system. Even now, he still have waves of nausea that hit him and left him not sure what end to aim at the toilet first. He was definitely fuck loads better than he had been, and things were going well with Lincoln. They had found an apartment they were going to have a second viewing of in the next couple of days, and they planned on buying it together as an investment. He went through to the kitchen to put the kettle on. "A dude's perspective? Cover your stump before you hump and don't use teeth," he said with a shrug.

Ainsley rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t really surprised at the response from Clint. It was his normal behavior… sex was sort of his thing, and he wasn’t at all ashamed of that. He was proud of who he was, and Ainsley, honestly, didn’t blame him for that. It was who he was, and Ainsley loved and looked up to Clint the way that he would look up to a big brother. There was no judgment toward Clitty. Ange would probably have a heart attack if she knew how much Ains looked up to Clint. Then again, it wasn’t his man whore nature that Ainsley looked up to. He’d had sex before, but he wasn’t really into the idea of orgies or hookups in the back rooms of bars. What he looked up to about Clint was his drive. The fact that he had his own business and he always got the job done when it came to his investigations. That in itself made Ainsley see Clint as someone to look up to.

“Fair enough,” Ains said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, at least you have a really hot boyfriend, right?” Something that Ains was hoping maybe he would have at some point in the not so distant future in the form of Harry. “Dude, I know how to have safe sex, and I’ve never used teeth during a BJ. That’s not even what I’m asking. I haven’t even slept with this guy, anyway. I don’t think that’s going to happen tomorrow either. I just really like him, and I want to get to know him better and maybe ask him out. He’s not just fuck buddy material.” He couldn’t help the bashful way he looked at his feet then, knowing this wasn’t really Clitty’s forte, but still feeling like he needed that brotherly advice.

Clint was still getting used to the 'boyfriend' thing. Not in a sense that he was holding off on the relationship anymore and just thinking it was a fully-functioning fuck buddy situation, but more that this was new territory for him. He had brief relationships in the past, but they never worked because he didn't buy into the relationship stuff and the whole faithful thing didn't work for him. Lincoln was just as sexually diverse as he was, though, and they could fuck around together. It was a relationship that worked in a different way to most. Since the whole blow up and nearly losing Lincoln because he had played his cunt card again, Clint couldn't deny he had been giving this stuff a lot more thought. All his friends were doing it, so there had to be something decent about it to buy into. Above all that, he just didn't want to lose Lincoln and he knew he had gone a fucking fallen in love with him. But now he was there, he was still figuring out what he was supposed to do with it.

"Hot, and talented in the sack," he had to clarify. Not that it was news or anything. "Who is this guy, anyway? How do you know he's worth all this? If you want all that to work, he's got to reciprocate all this shit, or you'll be up shit creek without a paddle and be left with wanking until you sprain your wrist over his selfies on Instagram. When did you meet him?" he asked, getting the milk out of the fridge. This definitely wasn't his area of expertise, but he knew the signs of a crush when he saw them. He was pretty sure he had never heard of a single crush that didn't end in heartache. Apparently unrequited love was balls.

"So you've told anybody who'd listen about eight billion times," Ainsley teased. But in all honesty, he was happy for Clint and Linc. Anyone who knew the two of them knew that they weren't the most traditional of couples, but Ainsley was never the sort of kid who believed something had to be traditional in order for it to be right or work for the people involved. Life wasn't about traditional. It was about people finding a happy balance where things worked for them, and Linc and Clint had (finally) found that, after long enough of Clint having his head up his ass to the point that Linc very nearly pulled the plug. "Seriously, though, Clitty, I'm happy for you that you finally got your finger out and realized you love him. You two suit the hell out of each other. I guess that's the other reason I wanted to talk to you. I mean, Ange is a girl, and she mostly dates girls, and I wanted insight from a guy who dates other guys. Is that weird of me?"

Ainsley's face took on a grin he couldn't help when Clint started asking him about Harry. Sure, he didn't know him very well, but he could probably go on forever about how cute he was, and all the reasons he was attracted to him, and never get tired of talking about it. It was one of those teenage boy things. "His name's Harry. He's Nick Matheson's little brother, and he's moved here to live with him from Florida. I met him... a week ago? Two weeks? And he's really hot, and sweet, and he's a dancer... Ballet. He's fucking amazing, Clitty. He goes to my school, and I got to help him find his classes and stuff." He sighed dreamily. "Seriously, I kind of want to ask him out."

"Where have you been for the last sixteen years? Of course I tell everyone. If you've got it, fucking flaunt it." It was no secret Clint wasn't shy or discreet about his sex life. That hadn't changed in him dating Lincoln either because Lincoln wasn't shy. He was a model and had a hell of an exhibitionist streak to them. They had done orgies, public sex, nudist beaches, skinny-dipping. It was all serious fucking fun too, though now things had shifted a little. Clint was finding that sex without Lincoln didn't do it for him as much as it used to, and he was pretty sure there was something poignant in that. He just had to work out what the fuck that was. "You can't rush your fucking feelings, kid. That's where you run into all sorts of fucking shit. Trust me, I've witnessed it time and time again. I don't date guys, I fuck guys. I date Lincoln."

He raised his eyebrows a little and put the milk on the counter top. "Nick Matheson? Hung, then. Like a fucking horse. He didn't get the nickname Italian Stallion for the way he talks. A week? You've known this kid a fucking week and you want to ask him out. Hold up, Romeo, or you'll get your heart broken and then I'll be to fucking blame because you came to me to ask about shit, and I'm the blame for everything anyway. Dancer? That mean he wears tights? A Matheson in tights. If that wasn't fucking cradle robbing, I'd be wanting to check that out myself."

"I've known you for most of it," Ainsley countered, pointing at Clint. "I mean, honestly? You're the reason I got suspended from school for three days at ten years old for telling one of my classmates to fuck off. You've never been shy about... well... anything ever. I think Ange and my parents honestly considered castrating you for a minute there." He grinned playfully at Clint with a shrug. "I know I can't rush my feelings," he replied, and he did get that. "But it feels more like my feelings are rushing me. I think this guy is really special, and I don't wanna fuck it all up right off the bat. But you had to have figured out somehow that Linc was special, right? That you liked him more than the dudes you fucked at random. I mean, I've fucked before. Not nearly as extensively as you, but I'm not a virgin. But I really like Harry."

It actually took focus for Ains not to arc up a little when Clitty joked about wanting to check out a Matheson in tights, even though he new Clitty wasn't into cradle robbing and certainly not into perving on kids. "Yes," he said with a nod. "Nick Matheson's little brother. His only brother. The rest of them are all girls. Hung is always a major plus, and... Christ, I'm losing my edge, because I wasn't even thinking about him in tights. Clearly I missed out on some prime spank bank material. But seriously, Clitty, if it doesn't work out, I wont' blame you at all. I just kind of want to know if you have any advice."

"Which is exactly why you need to hold the fuck up. Half the shit hitting the fan I see these days are people fucking up their feelings by going too slow or too fast, myself fucking included. Just because you're hot for this dude and got perma-boner happening over him, doesn't mean he's going to reciprocate those feelings. He might get to know you and decide you're annoying as fuck. Sometimes, teenagers can be cunts. Actually, most of the time..." Clint amended with a frown, most definitely thinking of the bullying Justin had gone through, and even the bullying Tobes had gone through. Clint remembered when Toby was pushed down the stairs at his school, Luke came to see him and asked him to get the kid's father arrested for something that would result in a sullying of his name and a large fine. Of course, Clint had to oblige. He fucking despised kids being harmed, and it was ultimately why he framed a rapist without a second thought given to the plan. "You've told me about six hundred times that you're not a virgin, kid. Is he?"

There was a pointed diversion from the subject of him and Lincoln. Things were back on track, but it was a lot of laying groundwork right now so it didn't fuck up again. He was far from a fucking expert on any of this. "His only little brother. In an a half Italian with Mafia ties and half Irish with IRA ties family? Do you have a death wish, Ains? Don't bullshit me. I know you've been jerking off over him since the minute you met him with a crush as big as fucking Canada. You should talk to Renz. He's the one who got hitched and does shit like snuggling and buying His and His towels, not me."

“I’m not pushing anything,” Ainsley protested, but he had to admit he wasn’t sure if he was or not. He certainly didn’t want to be. “And I’m not trying to go too fast with my feelings. I just want to get to know him better and see what happens. I know he may not have feelings for me like I do for him, and if he doesn’t, I’ll live with it, but there’s nothing wrong with trying, right? I mean, with going for it and talking to him and asking him out and all that stuff?” He paused, nodding his agreement with that. “He’s dealt with teenagers being cunts. I don’t think he’s a cunt himself at all. He’s been made fun of for being gay a lot by people he thought were friends. I know I can be annoying, though. It wouldn’t even really be being a cunt if he thought I was. It would just kind of be true. Even Ange says I’m annoying sometimes, and she’s not a cunt at all.” Clint had been one of the first people Ainsley told when he lost his virginity, and Ange had been sure that Ainsley knew he didn’t have to fuck as many people as Clitty. “I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “He had a boyfriend before. I know that doesn’t mean he’s had sex, but he’s dated someone. And he’s gay.”

“I never said I didn’t jerk off over him,” Ainsley replied, shaking his head. “I just hadn’t thought as far as him dancing in tights, but now I have…” and as if to emphasize that point, he got a dreamy, faraway look in his eye for just a moment before coming back down to earth. “I don’t have a death wish. I just really like him. Dude, you’re like my big brother. And you have a boyfriend.”

Maybe it was the lack of coffee and lack of orgasm, but Clint looked at Ainsley with a small frown and a shake of his head. "You're an argumentative little shit when you want to be. 'I'm not doing this!' 'I never said that!' 'I know this!' 'I know that!' If you know, why the hell are you here? Do you want my fucking advice or not? If all you did was come here to listen and then argue against everything I'm saying, seriously, go to Renz because this is not my area of expertise. If you're crippled in how to talk to another kid and get to know them, then hook up with a therapist, because that's real clinical shit and definitely out of my skill area. When I was your age, I was slashing tyres, fucking teachers, and punching jocks in the face for the hell of it. You're not trying to go too fast with your feelings but already plotting on asking him out? Kid, fucking stop and listen to yourself."

He gave a huffy sigh of frustration and was aggressively stirring the sugar into his coffee. He took the spoon out and tossed it in the sink, taking a long sip before speaking again. "So what? You're not taking on anything I'm saying. I could be your fucking father right now, and what I say would be pointless because I'm not saying what you wanna hear. So, stand there and get it off your chest. I'll zone out and think of cock while you answer your own questions. I'm going outside for a smoke, so follow or discuss your teen angst with the fridge. You might like its answers better than mine."

"Sorry," Ainsley said, embarrassed. He had been arguing everything that Clitty said, and he hadn't meant to be. "I do want your advice, Clitty. I dunno. I never wanted to go on real dates with a guy before." He shrugged, irritated at himself for arguing with Clint when his whole reason for coming here had been to listen to him, not to argue. "I know. I don't mean that I don't know how to make friends. I do know that. I just don't know how to date. And you were probably the least likely person ever to date, and you figured it out, so I figured you'd have good advice. That's all." He paused, and arched an eyebrow as he looked at Clint. "Wait... You fucked teachers? How the fuck did you..." He paused, shaking his head. That was not the topic of conversation that he'd come to talk about.

Ainsley followed Clint outside and leaned back against the side of the building as he watched Clint light up a cigarette. Ange would kill Ains if he ever started smoking, and it definitely wouldn't be good for his physical health when he went on to the police academy after school. But he had to admit he'd always been curious about it if only because Clitty made it look so fucking cool. Only the smell was gross, and he liked being able to breathe well, so he'd avoid it. That and not wanting Ange to murder him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a twat," Ainsley told Clint.

Clint sat down and lit up a cigarette. He took a long drag from it and then held the cigarette over the balcony between his fingers so the smoke would blow away from Ainsley in the breeze. "You gotta know he even wants to date first, before figuring out if he wants to date you. Not every kid wants to date. He might just want fuck buddies or someone to hang out with and share fart jokes with. You can't fucking know how to date anyone until you know them first. Everyone's different." He knew some incredible couples who had worked their relationship around many hardships, but it all boiled down to having a significant connection that they wanted to build on. That was the traditional way to go about dating someone, and Clint hadn't started his relationship traditionally in any way, shape or form.

"You gotta connect with someone to build on it. There's not gonna be a connection if it's all one-sided. Connection means two people fucking joining together on mutual ground. It doesn't fucking matter what that mutual ground is, because it's different for everyone. You gotta find that before you even start thinking about dating him or you're gonna fuck it all up and piss him off. You go in like a fucking bitch on heat, what about that is he gonna care about finding a connection with?" he reasoned with a shrug.

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"I get by with a little help from my friends..."

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