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I don't own anything. This never happened, as far as I know.

Nikki sighed and rubbed his tired, green eyes. Writing was hard today. Fuckin' pouring out his soul onto this sheet of paper. Fuck that. He stood and stretched, bones popping, and walked to the kitchen of the studio.

There he found Tommy laughing with Vince over some stupid magazine.

"Nikki, where have you been hiding all day?" Tommy asked, spotting the bassist.

"Writing." he grunted. He opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of water.

"Vince, we need you to do some vocals." Mick appeared in the doorway.

"Yeah, okay." The two disappeared out of the kitchen.

Nikki stood by the counter, not really paying attention to anything until he noticed the feeling of eyes on him.

"What?" he asked, glancing at Tommy.

"Nothing, you just look like you need a hug." Tommy replied, a faint smile on his lips.

Nikki stared at him like he'd grown an extra head. "A hug? I need a fuckin' hug? I don't fuckin' think so!" he snapped.

Tommy shrugged. "I'll give you one if you want."

"I don't want a hug." Nikki growled.

"Fine. Don't hug me. I didn't want to hug you anyway." Tommy rose and started to walk out of the kitchen.

Nikki took a deep breath and let it out. "Wait." he called to the drummer.

Tommy turned around.

Nikki held out his arms to him.

Tommy grinned happily and bounded over to him and wrapped his arms around the older man.

Nikki sighed in contentment and thought that maybe hugs weren't so bad. Especially hugs given by his favorite person.




What do you think?