Categories > Original > Romance > Camping
Title: Camping: Chapter Thirteen: Dinner Date
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nicky and Princess go out to a Russian restaurant called Trojka for dinner.
Warning(s): Language, homosexuality
Disclaimer: None needed. I own it all.
Note(s): Trojka is pronounced Troy-kah.
Nicky was already dressed by the time Princess finally made an appearance at ten minutes after nine o’ clock, only twenty minutes before their reservations at Trojka. Nicky had not been sure he had clean clothes that were suitable to wear to a place like Trojka. Most of his clothes consisted of jeans made of very distressed denim, leather pants, t-shirts with rude sayings on them and tank tops. He had taken most of his ‘good’ clothes on tour with him because he would need them for interviews and photo shoots and the like and several suitcases of them were sitting in their pent house’s foyer, all in need of washing. But in the back of his closet he had found a pair of plain black non distressed Armani jeans and a long sleeved button down shirt made of cerulean blue silk Chinese silk. He had slipped on a pair of black cowboy boots with stitching the of the same color as his shirt that someone – he was pretty sure it had been Raven and Taylor – had gotten him for Christmas last year. After that he had brushed his hair dry, given it a mandatory shake that gave it that usual Nicky Narcissus, just crawled out of bed style, added the requisite eyeliner that was his trademark just as much as the hair style, and was finished. It had, as usual, taken approximately ten minutes for him to get dressed.
Nicky was lounging on the couch in the living room, his boots on the green plush cushions, watching an old rerun episode of Spongebob Squarepants – who knew cartoons were on at almost nine thirty at night? – when His Royal Highness finally emerged from the bathroom a good ten minutes later. At that point they had exactly twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. Nicky used the remote control to turn off the television, ready to inform Princess that they were probably going to be late and were probably going to lose their reservations. Then he caught sight of his boyfriend and was helpless to do anything but stare.
Princess was a beautiful boy, no one had ever denied that – except perhaps the boy’s own father who, even before disowning him, had been dissatisfied with his youngest son because he did not exhibit a certain amount of manliness – but sometimes, in certain articles of clothing or with his hair done a certain way, or maybe just the way he put on his make up, he could still make Nicky – who was with him almost constantly when he was not on tour and not working or when Princess was not in school – stop and stare. This was, apparently, one of those times and seemed to be due to all of the above. In about half the time Princess usually spent in the bathroom he had managed to make himself – in Nicky’s opinion – twice as beautiful. His dress was a soft silver color, made of some silky, slinky material that clung to him in all of the appropriate places and yet still managed to hide the fact that the seemingly gorgeous girl was, in reality, a devastatingly beautiful boy. Nicky had seen the dress before – once – when it had first been created by the Fantasticka boys. It had partly been Princess’s creation. He and Raven had gone to a vintage clothing store one day and Princess had been turned on to the world of flapper dresses but being so tiny, every one he had tried on had been far too long. Disappointed, Princess had returned home and designed his own. A few additions and adjustments later, it had become a custom made, one of a kind Fantasticka dress just for Princess. And it looked a lot better on Princess than it had hanging on the closet door. Shorter than a real vintage roaring twenties flapper dress, the silver fringe came only to just a couple of inches above Princess’s knees, the slinky silky fabric of the main body of the dress stopping a good three inches shy of that. The capped sleeves – much like the ones on the tee shirt Princess had worn to go shopping earlier that same day – were made of a shiny, silver, see through material, the edges of which were lined with fake diamonds. On his feet were yet another pair of Prada shoes, this pair a shiny silver color much like his dress that resembled ballet shoes complete with silver ribbons that tied around his ankles. Princess’s honey blonde hair was swept up on top of his head where it lay pinned in a pile of curls, studded with tiny silver butterfly hair clips so small they could not possibly be holding more than a few pieces of hair each. His cheekbones were dusted with just enough silver glitter to make them shimmer, his eye shadow the same color with sufficient black eyeliner to accent his blue green eyes and his lips shimmering slightly with his favorite pink strawberries and cream flavored lip gloss.
Princess caught Nicky staring at him and touched his hair absently. Even after all this time he was still a little self-conscious in front of his boyfriend. He wanted to be perfect for Nicky. “Am I…” he began. “Do I look okay? I tried not to take too long but my hair…” Princess sighed softly. “It just won’t-“
“No,” Nicky interrupted him. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“Really?” Princess asked. He spun around in a circle. The movement made the bottom of his dress fly out, showing off several more inches of fake baked leg. “I’ve had it forever but it’s just too beautiful to wear except for a special occasion.” And tonight was a special occasion since Nicky had just returned home and it was their one night to have together before going – quelle horror – camping in the wild untamed wilderness with the lions and tigers and bears and ax wielding psychopaths, oh my! “You like?”
“I like,” Nicky admitted. Actually, he loved it. This dress on its own was almost as good as the fashion Princess liked putting on for Nicky with himself as the only model. Almost. Although, Nicky had to admit that he particularly liked the parts of the fashion show where Princess was naked while he was putting on or putting together another outfit.
“Can we take the limo again?” Princess asked. He loved the limo – and the unlimited supply of champagne that was always included in the ride – but Nicky insisted the long black car rarely be used because it was too conspicuous. The little blonde took the arm his boyfriend offered and allowed himself to be led to the door, his silver Louis Vuitton clutch in his other hand.
“I don’t know, baby,” Nicky said as they left the apartment. “I think that might be a little too conspicuous, yeah?” he asked as he locked the door. “Let’s go, baby.” Nicky led his Princess toward the elevator, doing his best not to smile. He did not want Princess to know what was waiting for them in front of the building.
When Nicky and Princess reached the lobby of their apartment building the security guard – the same one who had been on duty when Princess had left both times earlier as well as when he had returned with Nicky several hours ago - greeted them with a nod but otherwise did not acknowledge their existence. He had been employed by the building’s owner for almost thirty years and no longer paid attention to the fact that most of the residents in the building were splashed across the fronts of tabloids on a regular basis. The doorman – a different, younger one than the one who had been on duty every time Princess had gone out and come back earlier – held open the heavy front door so they could exit into the slightly cooler than earlier yet still hot night air.
The moment he stepped out onto the front steps of their apartment building, Princess squealed loudly. His right hand, the one that was not holding on to Nicky’s arm, flew up to cover his mouth. Upon exiting the building the first thing that caught his eye was an enormous African American man – none other than the despised Clifford – standing beside the open door of a long black stretch limo. “Oh, Nicky!” he squealed again. “The limo? Really?”
Nicky smiled. That was exactly the result he had anticipated. “Of course we’re taking the limo,” he said. “Nothing’s too good for my Princess, right?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question, of course. Nicky would – and often did – give Princess anything he wanted.
“Right!” Princess chirped. He was a big boy – well, figuratively speaking; literally he was rather tiny and feminine – and could get into a limousine all by himself but he loved it when Nicky helped him anyway. Princess slid across the smooth leather seat so Nicky could get in beside him. Clifford shut the door and before the car even began to move Nicky had found one of the champagne bottles, a bottle of peach nectar, and two chilled glasses in the little refrigerator.
When Nicky handed him his first perfectly made Bellini of the evening, Princess became convinced that his one night alone with his boyfriend was going to be absolutely fabulous.
Author: Allison Wonderland
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Nicky and Princess go out to a Russian restaurant called Trojka for dinner.
Warning(s): Language, homosexuality
Disclaimer: None needed. I own it all.
Note(s): Trojka is pronounced Troy-kah.
Nicky was already dressed by the time Princess finally made an appearance at ten minutes after nine o’ clock, only twenty minutes before their reservations at Trojka. Nicky had not been sure he had clean clothes that were suitable to wear to a place like Trojka. Most of his clothes consisted of jeans made of very distressed denim, leather pants, t-shirts with rude sayings on them and tank tops. He had taken most of his ‘good’ clothes on tour with him because he would need them for interviews and photo shoots and the like and several suitcases of them were sitting in their pent house’s foyer, all in need of washing. But in the back of his closet he had found a pair of plain black non distressed Armani jeans and a long sleeved button down shirt made of cerulean blue silk Chinese silk. He had slipped on a pair of black cowboy boots with stitching the of the same color as his shirt that someone – he was pretty sure it had been Raven and Taylor – had gotten him for Christmas last year. After that he had brushed his hair dry, given it a mandatory shake that gave it that usual Nicky Narcissus, just crawled out of bed style, added the requisite eyeliner that was his trademark just as much as the hair style, and was finished. It had, as usual, taken approximately ten minutes for him to get dressed.
Nicky was lounging on the couch in the living room, his boots on the green plush cushions, watching an old rerun episode of Spongebob Squarepants – who knew cartoons were on at almost nine thirty at night? – when His Royal Highness finally emerged from the bathroom a good ten minutes later. At that point they had exactly twenty-five minutes to get to the restaurant. Nicky used the remote control to turn off the television, ready to inform Princess that they were probably going to be late and were probably going to lose their reservations. Then he caught sight of his boyfriend and was helpless to do anything but stare.
Princess was a beautiful boy, no one had ever denied that – except perhaps the boy’s own father who, even before disowning him, had been dissatisfied with his youngest son because he did not exhibit a certain amount of manliness – but sometimes, in certain articles of clothing or with his hair done a certain way, or maybe just the way he put on his make up, he could still make Nicky – who was with him almost constantly when he was not on tour and not working or when Princess was not in school – stop and stare. This was, apparently, one of those times and seemed to be due to all of the above. In about half the time Princess usually spent in the bathroom he had managed to make himself – in Nicky’s opinion – twice as beautiful. His dress was a soft silver color, made of some silky, slinky material that clung to him in all of the appropriate places and yet still managed to hide the fact that the seemingly gorgeous girl was, in reality, a devastatingly beautiful boy. Nicky had seen the dress before – once – when it had first been created by the Fantasticka boys. It had partly been Princess’s creation. He and Raven had gone to a vintage clothing store one day and Princess had been turned on to the world of flapper dresses but being so tiny, every one he had tried on had been far too long. Disappointed, Princess had returned home and designed his own. A few additions and adjustments later, it had become a custom made, one of a kind Fantasticka dress just for Princess. And it looked a lot better on Princess than it had hanging on the closet door. Shorter than a real vintage roaring twenties flapper dress, the silver fringe came only to just a couple of inches above Princess’s knees, the slinky silky fabric of the main body of the dress stopping a good three inches shy of that. The capped sleeves – much like the ones on the tee shirt Princess had worn to go shopping earlier that same day – were made of a shiny, silver, see through material, the edges of which were lined with fake diamonds. On his feet were yet another pair of Prada shoes, this pair a shiny silver color much like his dress that resembled ballet shoes complete with silver ribbons that tied around his ankles. Princess’s honey blonde hair was swept up on top of his head where it lay pinned in a pile of curls, studded with tiny silver butterfly hair clips so small they could not possibly be holding more than a few pieces of hair each. His cheekbones were dusted with just enough silver glitter to make them shimmer, his eye shadow the same color with sufficient black eyeliner to accent his blue green eyes and his lips shimmering slightly with his favorite pink strawberries and cream flavored lip gloss.
Princess caught Nicky staring at him and touched his hair absently. Even after all this time he was still a little self-conscious in front of his boyfriend. He wanted to be perfect for Nicky. “Am I…” he began. “Do I look okay? I tried not to take too long but my hair…” Princess sighed softly. “It just won’t-“
“No,” Nicky interrupted him. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“Really?” Princess asked. He spun around in a circle. The movement made the bottom of his dress fly out, showing off several more inches of fake baked leg. “I’ve had it forever but it’s just too beautiful to wear except for a special occasion.” And tonight was a special occasion since Nicky had just returned home and it was their one night to have together before going – quelle horror – camping in the wild untamed wilderness with the lions and tigers and bears and ax wielding psychopaths, oh my! “You like?”
“I like,” Nicky admitted. Actually, he loved it. This dress on its own was almost as good as the fashion Princess liked putting on for Nicky with himself as the only model. Almost. Although, Nicky had to admit that he particularly liked the parts of the fashion show where Princess was naked while he was putting on or putting together another outfit.
“Can we take the limo again?” Princess asked. He loved the limo – and the unlimited supply of champagne that was always included in the ride – but Nicky insisted the long black car rarely be used because it was too conspicuous. The little blonde took the arm his boyfriend offered and allowed himself to be led to the door, his silver Louis Vuitton clutch in his other hand.
“I don’t know, baby,” Nicky said as they left the apartment. “I think that might be a little too conspicuous, yeah?” he asked as he locked the door. “Let’s go, baby.” Nicky led his Princess toward the elevator, doing his best not to smile. He did not want Princess to know what was waiting for them in front of the building.
When Nicky and Princess reached the lobby of their apartment building the security guard – the same one who had been on duty when Princess had left both times earlier as well as when he had returned with Nicky several hours ago - greeted them with a nod but otherwise did not acknowledge their existence. He had been employed by the building’s owner for almost thirty years and no longer paid attention to the fact that most of the residents in the building were splashed across the fronts of tabloids on a regular basis. The doorman – a different, younger one than the one who had been on duty every time Princess had gone out and come back earlier – held open the heavy front door so they could exit into the slightly cooler than earlier yet still hot night air.
The moment he stepped out onto the front steps of their apartment building, Princess squealed loudly. His right hand, the one that was not holding on to Nicky’s arm, flew up to cover his mouth. Upon exiting the building the first thing that caught his eye was an enormous African American man – none other than the despised Clifford – standing beside the open door of a long black stretch limo. “Oh, Nicky!” he squealed again. “The limo? Really?”
Nicky smiled. That was exactly the result he had anticipated. “Of course we’re taking the limo,” he said. “Nothing’s too good for my Princess, right?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question, of course. Nicky would – and often did – give Princess anything he wanted.
“Right!” Princess chirped. He was a big boy – well, figuratively speaking; literally he was rather tiny and feminine – and could get into a limousine all by himself but he loved it when Nicky helped him anyway. Princess slid across the smooth leather seat so Nicky could get in beside him. Clifford shut the door and before the car even began to move Nicky had found one of the champagne bottles, a bottle of peach nectar, and two chilled glasses in the little refrigerator.
When Nicky handed him his first perfectly made Bellini of the evening, Princess became convinced that his one night alone with his boyfriend was going to be absolutely fabulous.
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