FIC: Underground (Nikolai - EP / Drew - Etown), Part 3 of 3

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Edited to add tularia's wonderful banner!

Title: Underground
Author: surreysmum
Pairing: Nikolai Luzhin (Eastern Promises) / Drew Baylor (Elizabethtown)
Rating: NC-17
A/N: My sincere thanks to my wonderful friend Nancy for the beta, special gratitude to Tati for helping with Russian diminutives, and big hugs to tularia for the awesome gift of the banner.
This story is dedicated to Nancy on the occasion of her birthday.




Nikolai parked his big, sleek Mercedes in the LT parking lot just after dark the following night. Then he slung his backpack across his back, and picked up Drew's small suitcase and a plastic bag full of enough warm food for two.

No fool's errand this time. Drew was definitely waiting for him. Nikolai felt his way into the darkness of the carriage. He handed the plastic bag and suitcase over to Drew, and surreptitiously stowed his own backpack under one of the seats a little further away, under cover of removing his coat.

"How have you been?" he asked. "Have you been outside?"

"Well, I've been having to step outside occasionally ever since I got here," admitted Drew, embarrassed. "You know, to pee… But today I kicked a rock around in the field a bit, on the back side there. I don't think anybody saw me. It was kind of nice. Peaceful but noisy, in a city kind of way."

"You play football? What you call soccer?"

Drew shrugged. "Everybody knows how to kick a ball around."

"One day," said Nikolai, pulling the food out of the bag, "maybe we will get the chance to play a little football together."

"That would be good," agreed Drew, "although I don't see how it could ever happen."

Nikolai reached again into the bag and pulled out a couple of table candles from the restaurant. "I remembered to bring light this time," he said with satisfaction, and setting them on a ledge he lit the candles. "I have always thought I might visit America some day, Drew."

"That would be great," replied Drew with unfeigned enthusiasm. He accepted a styrofoam dish of food. "Thanks, Nikolai." The syllables of the name stumbled a little awkwardly from his tongue. "Do your friends call you Nick?"

"You can call me that if you like." Anything but Kolya..

"Thanks, Nick. Drew is short for Andrew, by the way, but only my mom ever calls me that, and only when she's real mad."

Nikolai thought back briefly to the last time he had had the luxury of a mother to be mad at him. When he was eight? Nine? before his father had driven her away with his cruelty, anyway. "Then I will be sure to call you Drew," he said.

They munched in silence for a while. "God, that was good," said Drew eventually.

"I am extremely proficient microwave operator," Nikolai informed him, deadpan.

Drew laughed delightedly. "I bet you fit in real well here!" he said. "You make all your jokes with such a straight face."

Nikolai wasn't sure about that. He didn't much care for the English - at least, not for the ones he met in his line of business. Then again, he didn't much care for the Russians he knew either. He shrugged slightly. "I try to fit in wherever I go," he told Drew.

Drew looked at him for a long moment. "Who are you, Nikolai?" he asked, slowly.

Nikolai looked down for a second before replying. "I think you do not really want to know that, Drew."

The young man was staring at Nikolai's hands again. Nikolai moved them forward, into the flickering light, so that the tattoos were more visible. "I got those in prison. In Siberia. Is that enough for you?" The young man's face had an unearthly beauty in the candle-light. Nikolai was uncertain whether it had paled at his words. He did not move his hands away when Drew touched the backs of them, first one, then the other, and let his touch linger.

"Not really," Drew told him.

"Who do you think I am, then?" Nikolai's voice was rough from the effort of suppressing the desire that had arisen in him at Drew's light touches.

"Well, I know you don't just 'work at a restaurant'," Drew told him, his hand moving gently, caressingly over Nikolai's. "You know about the American mob, and you give people orders. You carry a knife." His gaze was troubled as he spoke, but his fingers never ceased their soft stroking. Nikolai did not move. "And," Drew went on, "you have gone out of your way to help me, three times now, in the most generous way. I think," he said resolutely, "that you are a kind man trapped in a very dangerous and difficult job."

Nikolai shook his head. It was too simple, too generous. The boy was much too attractive, much too vulnerable. Nikolai wanted to seize him, kiss the naiveté out of him. He withdrew his hand. He pulled his shirt hastily apart, exposing the cross of the thief, the vor stars. "There are more," he said gruffly. Let the boy learn what he was getting into.

But Drew did not ask why he had the tattoos, or what they meant. Instead, he ran a fingertip reverently over the dark blue ink and asked, "Did that hurt a lot?"

"Only as much as it needed to," replied Nikolai, his breath quickening despite himself.

Drew pulled abruptly back and hauled down the waistband of his pants at one side. "I got a tattoo when I was a stupid kid," he said. "It really hurt." Nikolai found himself looking at a small yellow sun, temptingly perched on smooth skin just above Drew's hipbone. He touched it, and Drew gave a little sigh.

Intrigued, Nikolai pressed harder, surely to the point of discomfort, and Drew made no protest. Instead he stripped his own shirt over his head with startling abruptness and, seizing Nikolai's hand, pressed it flat in blatant invitation against his smooth, vulnerable stomach.

Desire flared in Nikolai's loins, warring against his rapidly diminishing impulse to protect the boy. But still he deserved a warning, and Nikolai gave it his best. He gripped the young man's slender waist with both hands. "Look at me," he growled. But he didn't need to: Drew's luminous gaze was already fixed steadily upon his face. Slowly, without the slightest pretence of gentleness, Nikolai pressed his hands possessively up the boy's narrow torso. Just a little more pressure and surely one of those prominent ribs would have broken under his palms. He reached a pair of large brown nipples, already peaked in flagrant provocation. Drew's breath rose and fell quickly within his grasp, but the boy's dark eyes regarded Nikolai steadily. Nikolai seized the nipples and pinched them cruelly. Drew's lips parted and he let out a little whimper. There. Warning given. Nikolai started to pull away, ready to deny his own roaring blood.

But Drew seized the retreating tattooed hands in a frantic grasp and jammed them back against his chest. The boy's head dropped back. "More," he whispered.

The flickering candle-light turned red for Nikolai at that moment. For the life of him he could not have stopped himself from lurching forward, pushing Drew's hands roughly aside, and sinking his teeth into the flat muscle of Drew's chest, laying his mark. The bullet inside Nikolai exploded, never to be contained again.

Drew cried out and his hips bucked into Nikolai's, giving ample evidence of his trapped and desperate arousal. "More," he urged again, his head tossing.

Nikolai stilled him with a firm grip in his curls. "Who are you, Drew Baylor?" he asked urgently.

"You know… everything about me," panted Drew, his hips striving frantically, futilely, for more friction.

Nikolai bent his head to his captive, plundering his mouth. Only when the older man was fully satisfied did he say, raspingly, "No. I do not know how you sound when you are fucked."

Drew grew quiet under him. He brought a hand up to touch the angry scar on Nikolai's cheek. "Then find out," he said simply. There was not an ounce of fear in him. With an excited lurch in his stomach, Nikolai realized he had met his match.

He stood up. "Floor," he ordered.

Without apology, Drew grabbed Nikolai's pristine trench-coat and laid it out on the dirty floor of the car. He started to unzip himself. "My job," said Nikolai firmly from where he sat, still half-dressed. Obediently, Drew allowed himself to be stripped, though he helped by kicking off his shoes. Nikolai turned him, exploring with blunt fingernails the smooth perfection of his arse. He smiled imperceptibly as Drew's knees buckled a little under a rapid, rubbing assault between the tight cheeks. "Down, then," he murmured, pushing Drew towards the sacrificed coat. The mist of his passion had dissipated a little, and he felt an unfamiliar urge to be gentle with the boy, although he was not entirely sure he knew how.

Drew took up position on his hands and knees, and glanced around questioningly. With an abrupt gesture, Nikolai indicated he should lie on his back instead. Drew stretched himself out, arms under his head, cock standing proudly, the very picture of seductive compliance.

He stayed that way only a few seconds, however, pushing himself back up as Nikolai removed his own clothes. "Oh, that's nice!" he said. "May I?" He didn't wait for the formality of an answer, but took Nikolai immediately into his warm mouth.

Nikolai could not understand his eagerness. It was foreign to his experience. He put a big hand in Drew's curls, gently this time. The pleasure was flooding his senses, but still he had to ask. "Does this not shame you?"

Lost in the sensation of hard thickness fitting so perfectly in his mouth, Drew took a few seconds to register the question. He pulled off reluctantly, long enough to utter a perplexed "Shame me?" before returning to far more interesting matters. Giving the older man's balls an exploratory roll between his fingers, he was gratified by a rumbled groan and a surge from the organ traversing his flattened tongue and hollowed cheeks.

"Now, Drew," said Nikolai, stopping him. He knew his limits.

"Now, Nick," agreed the young man. But then his face fell, almost comically.

"It is all right," said Nikolai, fumbling through a jacket pocket to produce condom and lube. He pushed a brief vision of Kirill's hungry face out of his mind, irritated.

"Boy scout!" laughed Drew delightedly.

A wolfish grin split Nikolai's features, one that would have shocked and perhaps terrified all his London acquaintance. "Never have I been accused of that before, Drew Baylor," he said.

Drew had started to pry open the lube, but allowed his hands to be lightly smacked away as Nikolai claimed the prerogative. It took no time at all to make everything safe and slippery, and to drive Drew to a state of desperate need at the ends of three of Nikolai's powerful fingers.

Nikolai lined himself up. "Yes?" he asked Drew one last time.

"Christ, Nick! YES!" bellowed Drew in exasperation.

Nikolai took him at his word, pounding him with all his strength, hard and furious. Drew egged him on, twining sinewy legs around his back, and pushing back with all his own not inconsiderable force, aided by a white-knuckled grip on the metal seat supports above his head.

It couldn’t last long, not at that pace. "Touch me, Nick," begged Drew. "Touch me now, please."

Nikolai seized upon Drew's cock without hesitation. Drew keened in pleasure. When they came, it was within a few seconds of each other and gloriously sticky.

After their panting subsided a little, Nikolai sat up to retrieve some left-over napkins to clean them up a little. Drew laid a hand on his thigh.

"You fuck like a demon," he said appreciatively.

Nikolai's mouth twisted wryly. "Maybe because I am one," he replied.

"Then I want a demon lover," Drew joked.

Nikolai's expression went suddenly blank.

Drew sighed and bit his lip. "I didn't mean it that way, Nick," he said. "I'm sorry. This is what it is. And I'll never regret it. But I'm not asking for what you can't give."

Nikolai's face remained grim, but he reached out and took Drew's hand in a grip so tight it hurt.

"I still wish to visit America someday," he said quietly. "So it is not impossible, Drew, that someday we will… kick a ball around an American field together." He gave the tiniest of shrugs and let go of Drew's hand. "But if that does not happen - well, neither do I regret what has happened." And he reached a hand to the side of Drew's head, cradling it gently, delicately, and gave him one apologetic kiss instead of all the things that could not, must not be said. Then he stood up, with effort. "Time for airport, no?"

"Yes," said Drew sadly, and started to pull on his clothes.

The drive to the airport was nearly silent, Drew in the back of the plush Mercedes, and Nikolai in front wearing his peaked chauffeur's cap, at the Russian's sharp insistence. "It is how they know me at Heathrow," he said. "It is for my safety." After that, Drew could hardly protest.

Only once, heart heavy at the sight of Drew's pale face in his rear-view mirror, did Nikolai attempt to strike up a conversation. "Maybe you will send me postcard when you get to your little town in America?" he suggested.

"Maybe," responded Drew miserably, not even bothering to point out that he wouldn't have the first idea where to send such a thing.

At the departure area at Heathrow, Nikolai got out to open the door for Drew. "Tip me," muttered Nikolai, all his senses alert for observing eyes in this brightly-lit place.

"What?"

"Tip me. Your money is in your jacket pocket."

Biting his lip angrily to keep the tears at bay, Drew blindly thrust a fiver at him, and felt something pressed into his palm in return.

It was only after the Mercedes rolled smoothly away that Drew looked at the business card in his hand. It said, "Trans-Siberian Restaurant, Nikolai Luzhin, mgr." And there at the bottom was the full street address.

-/-/-

In the hushed minutes just before dawn of a day about two weeks later, a somewhat shaken Nikolai Luzhin made his way across the field one last time to the abandoned Underground car. It had been a narrow escape, but he was confident that no-one had followed him here to his refuge. His hand went to his throat. He would wear Kirill's bruises for a while yet.

Once in the car, he pulled out the backpack he had stowed under the seat on that memorable night with Drew. The hesitant light of dawn glanced through the windows and on to his pale skin as he stripped from his suit and tie, and pulled on the clothes from the backpack. A pair of jeans, at least a size too small in Nikolai's opinion - but Yuri had assured them they were worn that way in America. A t-shirt, similarly tight. A pair of athletic shoes, unnaturally bouncy; Nikolai stared at them thoughtfully for a long minute before lacing them on. A decent leather jacket. So far so good.

With a sigh, Nikolai reached further into the backpack and pulled out a wig of longish, greying hair. He could not imagine how any self-respecting man could wear hair so long, but there was no doubt it would alter his appearance dramatically.

From the bottom of the backpack, he produced a small tube of highly effective concealing make-up, and dabbed it by touch over the scar on his face. Then he applied it to the backs of his hands as well.

It was light enough to see properly now. Nikolai reached for the broader of his knives and surveyed himself in the reflection from the blade, nodding approval. It would pass all but the most rigorous inspection. He had transformed himself, as they had transformed him at Scotland Yard nearly two weeks ago, into the man in his passport photo.

His passport… He opened the envelope he had been clutching when he arrived, the envelope that Yuri had thrust into his hands less than an hour ago, bidding him, "Go! Go! Good luck!"

He rifled through the contents. A wallet full of ID, all of it impeccable, legitimate. A couple of fully functional credit cards. A debit card on a hundred-thousand dollar account at a major American bank. A social security card. A plane ticket. All of it was in the name of Nicholas Lountz, naturalized American since 1997, and holder of the American passport in his hand. On one of the latter pages was a visitor's visa for six months to Britain, in correct form. Not only that, but Nikolai knew that every official document supporting the ones in his hand would be found in their proper offices -- in Russia, in Britain, and most certainly in the States. There were advantages, he reflected wryly, to working on the government side.

His mind flew back irresistibly to the events of the night. It had taken little to persuade Kirill to call a meeting of the bosses at the restaurant once the first reports of Scotland Yard's activities had started to trickle in. So there they had all been, conveniently cooped up like chickens in the same henhouse, when the stalwart British bobbies, looking much too comfortable with their assault weapons, burst in the doors and began the counting, naming and arresting of the occupants.

At first, Kirill had been too busy blustering to notice that no-one was trying to handcuff Nikolai. But when Nikolai crossed the floor to talk to the sergeant, Kirill gave a scream of outrage, bodily flung off the three men who were holding him, and launched himself across the room at Nikolai. His hands locked round Nikolai's throat. Nikolai did not try to fight back. His lungs were stopped, and his vision almost completely faded to black before the startled police managed to pry Kirill off him. Through a loud buzzing in his ears, he heard Kirill's anguished shouts. "You traitor! You cocksucking bastard! I always knew you would betray me! You… ! You… !"

Demon, supplied Nikolai's thoughts tiredly.

He came back to himself in the small private dining room, with Yuri handing him a glass of water.

"Better now?" Yuri asked in clipped tones - honestly, he grew more indistinguishable from the English every day - as Nikolai soothed his battered throat. Nikolai nodded.

"Good." Yuri sat down across from him, all business. "As of this moment, you are officially on furlough. I'm not saying we'll never call you in again, but I expect to hear absolutely nothing from you for at least the next two years. You are to keep the lowest profile you have ever kept. Do you understand me, Mikhail?"

Nikolai's head snapped up at his nearly-forgotten real name.

"Nicholas," he retorted gently.

Yuri nodded. "Nicholas. Did you have to choose something so close to Nikolai?"

Nikolai shrugged.

Yuri's features softened for a moment. "You're valuable to us. No incidents. I mean it."

"No incidents," Nikolai agreed.

"You're still in a lot of danger. Have you a safe place to make the change?" Nikolai nodded.

Then, in the manner of the English, Yuri had expressed all his emotion with a long, hard handshake, handed him his envelope of documents and urged him on his way.

Nikolai rose from his seat in the dusty old car and turned his attention to clearing away the small evidences of his visit. His discarded clothes went in the backpack - after all, you needed some baggage on a trans-Atlantic flight. His knives he regretfully and carefully buried amongst the weeds outside. Weapons didn't travel. He grimaced at the thought that in America it would probably have to be a gun. Nikolai did not care for guns. They evened the odds too much.

He shrugged on his leather jacket, turning up the collar to hide the bruises a bit. Then, exclaiming internally at his own carelessness, he carefully extracted a postcard from the breast pocket of his old jacket where he had carried it since it arrived. On the back it said simply, "Beautiful place. Wish you were here. D."

Nikolai tucked it safely into the inner pocket of the new jacket. As he emerged from the Underground car, the sun shone brightly on his face, and wonderfully, improbably for this barren place, the song of birds was greeting the dawn. Nikolai nimbly kicked a stone from his path and began to run towards the moving trains that would start him on his journey.

As he ran, faster and faster, he wondered whether Drew had received his answer yet. It was a postcard of an Underground train. He had addressed it to Drew Baylor, General Delivery, Elizabethtown, Kentucky, USA. On it he had written, "See you soon. Love, Nick."

Full of sudden joy, Nick smiled as he ran.

finis

My ficlist is here.

Comments

[angibugg.livejournal.com]

I am still amazed by how you made these two work. Great job.

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Thank you! They were surprisingly easy to write once I got started, maybe because Drew's openness presented itself as the perfect antidote to Nikolai's grim, hidden life.

[not-a-lamb.livejournal.com]

YAY!!!! This is WONDERFUL!

I was intrigued by the pairing, but the writing was incredibly good. And that bit:

"You know… everything about me," panted Drew, his hips striving frantically, futilely, for more friction.

Nikolai bent his head to his captive, plundering his mouth. Only when the older man was fully satisfied did he say, raspingly, "No. I do not know how you sound when you are fucked."


I literally just stared at the screen for a couple of seconds, brain totally fried at the thought of Nikolai saying that. HELL, woman. Think of your readers...the human heart can only handle so much! Just...damn.

Great fic! *memories*

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Ooohh. I crave your icon, big-time.

So glad you have a strong heart. :) And thank you for your generous praise. It was a bit of an experiment, this story, and you have more than convinced me it was worth the try.

[laeglass.livejournal.com]

Wow. I enjoyed this story so much. You really brought these two men to life. Beautiful imagery and characterization all along.

Thank you for the hopeful ending. Thank you for making it possible for even such a man as Nikolai (although he's not a bad man, he's tough, and I suppose at least on some level had resigned to never being happy).

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

When I first proposed this story, many months ago, I promised one of my commenters I would leave them both alive, and with at least a glimmer of hope. Cronenberg may have more integrity, but he is much crueler than I am, to leave Nikolai sitting alone and in the dark.

Thank you for your generous praise.

[ireth06.livejournal.com]

Such a wonderful mix! And so well done!
Love the happy ending!

Thanks for sharing hun!
*hugs*

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much. *hugs back*. It was a fascinating experiment, and I'm glad it worked for you!

[melusine6619.livejournal.com]

This was wonderful, dark and gritty, but hopeful at the end. Nikolai definitely needed to meet a guy like Drew. Loved it!

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! I'm hoping this inspires some more Nikolai-fic (or Drew-fic, or Nikolai/Drew fic!) amongst my fellow authors. I barely scratched the surface, I think, of the potential for fireworks there.

[veveri.livejournal.com]

Drew has been a nice surprise for Nikolai, matching so well with him.
Thanks for happy end against all odds!

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Love your kitty-cat icon!

I'm so pleased you liked the story. In the film, Nikolai's life was so grim, so dark, that I had to somehow give him a new dawn.

[alluranna.livejournal.com]

I cannot tell you how very much I love this story! I have read each chapter at least twice, and this one did not disappoint!!! I just loved the boys and hope they get their happily ever after... can we bribe you into giving us a peek? Pretty please!!!

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Oh, I think they'll be just fine, at least for a couple of years. And maybe that time Nick will have discovered something else he does at least as well as being an undercover agent. :)

Thank you so much for your constant encouragement. It made it so much easier to keep writing.

[ranmaru.livejournal.com]

I am in love! *sigh*

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

(((huggles)))

[helineloro.livejournal.com]

Drew is perfect for Nokolai are exactly the opposite one of the other and together are perfect.
Thank you.

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

Thank *you* very much for commenting. Yes - they are both lonely men, but otherwise they are very much opposites. I think and hope that will help them in the future.

[whitewizzy.livejournal.com]

I loved this.
I have a soft spot for Nicolai and am always happy to find a fic with him in it.
Great job on making this cross over work. It is not the easiest thing, I imagine, but you did it.
*applauds*

[surreysmum.livejournal.com]

I'm so pleased it worked for you!