North || Nathan Drake

16

Dante lifted his head from the side of the bath and briefly dunked underwater to scrub at his face. When he surfaced the door was already opening and Nate stuck his head inside. "Dante? You weren't answering".

Dante felt exhausted and his head was foggy. His name sounded nice on the other's lips and he tried to remember when exactly Nate had stopped calling him North. It had only been two or three days but it felt like so long ago. "You can come in", he hummed, unashamed that he was naked in the bath. The foam has decreased a bit but it was still plentiful enough to cover everything. 

Nate stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He had showered and changed into a new pair of soft looking pyjama trousers. He padded across the tiled and lowered himself down to sit on the floor next to the tub. Dante turned his head as the American leaned his arm against the rim. "Chloe and I ordered pizza. There's leftovers for you. Also we managed to get some more clothes if you want. Are you okay?" Nate's eyes were so big and patient that Dante felt some tension unwind from his shoulders.

"Why is it that I have shared more with you in the last two weeks than I have shared with anyone else in eight years?" He shifted and the water lapped at his shoulders, jets still bubbling in the background. It was a small, soft question. "I swear you Drakes", Dante sighed. "Sam was good at getting me to talk to, though it took him much longer than it did you. Years in fact".

"What was your relationship with my brother?" Nate voiced slowly. The sunset was making his brown eyes look gold.

Dante inhaled slowly. "I don't know. Friends I guess. He treated me like a baby brother most of the time. I think that was because he missed you and we ware around the same age. I had a bit of a crush on him in the beginning. I was young then and Sam saved my life. I got over it the first time we slept together and it became obvious that we were never going to happen. We only slept together the second time cause we were drunk and Sam was questioning things. I missed him in the last two years. He was one of the better people in our circle".

Nate nodded, something clearing in his eyes. He reached out one hand and brushed his thumb over Dante's cheek. The darker boy realised that he was crying softly. "Oh".

"What would help?" Nate's voice was gentle. That hurt more than any insult Chloe could had thrown at him. (He had thought he'd loved her once. Now she was more of a friend, or as friendly as you could be in this business). 

Dante rubbed more water across his face to scrub away the tears. "Could you please throw out my clothes?" He gestured to the salty, bloody items strewn across the floor. "I don't want to see them". The request was hesitant and it felt incredibly weak to be asking for help right then. As soon as he spoke, part of him flinched as if he expected Nate to refuse.

"Of course". The other man stood and Dante didn't watch as he picked up the clothes and left the room. When he returned, it was with a pair of matching pyjama pants. He set them on the counter and took a towel from the cupboard. When he was done, he turned back around and met Dante's gaze. "Do you need anything else?" Red tinged light danced on bare skin. In contrast, Dante's chest was littered with scars.

He shook his head. "Just give me a moment".

"Okay. Want me to go?" Dante shook his head again and Nate this time leaned against the rim of the tub. "Where is this scar from?" He gestured to a gash across Dante's shoulder.

"I scraped it on the side of a cliff while abseiling down. It was windy and the line swung". It was so easy to speak to him. Dante had not lied to Nate since they had met and it was impossible to do so now.

"And this one?" A straight line about three centimetres thick across the side of his ribs under his right arm.

"That's where Sully shot me. It just missed me. Sam stitched it back together".

"What about the one on your face?"

"A lucky dude with a knife. Almost got my eye. I won the knife fight though".

"And the one on your lip?"

Dante paused. That scar was one of the older ones. Other than very faded childhood scrapes, that one was older than the larger ones. All the others having been won during his life in the tomb raiding community during the last eight years. The scar from a split lip was so old that most people didn't notice it. No one noticed it after he got the one through his eyebrow.

"That one was when my grandfather was told that I was caught kissing boys in a night club. My father told him. Abuelo slapped me and his ring split my lip. I was kicked out and disowned less than a month later when it became clear I would not listen to him".

"I'm sorry". Nate's voice was not pitying. It was understanding.

Dante sighed. "Past is past". There was a moment of silence where it became clear that he wouldn't be speaking anymore.

Nate seemed to be thinking of something. "Can I?" He asked. Dante didn't know what he was asking for but nodded anyway. He trusted the other (and wasn't that a terrifying thought). With permission, Nate leant in slowly. His face getting closer as one hand went out to cup the other man's cheek. Dante closed his eyes and a second later he felt lips press to the sensitive skin under his right eye, just under where the scar ended. Then Nate was kissing the other side under his left eye. His touch so gentle and soothing that it made Dante feel like tearing up again. 

"I will meet you in the living room. Don't take too long or I shall come and check on you again", Nate warned with a warm smile as Dante opened his eyes. Then the other man was standing up and leaving the room with a soft click of the door. 

Dante stayed where he was for a few moments, mind processing what had just occurred. It made his cheeks warm. The care Nate had just shown him was more than anyone had shown him in years. None of his past lovers had treated him like that. They were more hook up type relationships, driven by sex where no one asked too many questions. The closest thing he'd had to anything serious had been with Chloe and she wasn't the most gentle of people. Nate had left him feeling butterflies. When was the last time he had ever felt butterflies? Dante couldn't remember. 

He dunked himself underwater again and this time washed his hair. When he was done he turned off all the jets and pulled the plug. The water started draining as he got up and reached for the towel. It was plush and soft as he dried himself off and pulled on the pyjama pants. A white bathrobe was hanging from the bathroom door and he wrapped it around himself as he stepped out. Bare feet on wooden floorboards as he followed Nate's and Chloe's voices to the living room. 

unedited 

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