Blind Hope: Chapter 4
NickTitle: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 1376 Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer: I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals. I make no money from this fanfiction. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Assault and Battery, Injuries, unwanted sexual advances.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Dinner is a stop at a food truck just outside the theater. As the cold night closes in, you order streetside tacos and bottled drinks, he goes for tortas. His arm slinks shyly around you and you lay your head on his shoulders as the nights of the city flicker on. The movie is formulaic, and riddled with tropes, but you find yourself not caring because he is right there beside you. The broadness of his shoulder skims against yours as you both reach for the same pile of snacks that he insisted on picking up. Every now and then you turn your head to catch him looking at you like you are priceless, and he can't believe that you are here.
The smile you give him tells him that you can't believe it either.
“Is the date over?” he asked when the credits rolled.
“It doesn't have to be.”
Desert came next, stopping by yet another late night food truck where massive waffles were piled high with sugar and jellies and whipped cream. There is not clean way to eat it, you realize as you two take a seat on the edge of a drizzling fountain.
“Of all the places you'd want to go for vacation,” you say as you navigate the best corner to attack your late night waffle from. “And you pick Alaska?”
“I like the cold,” he admits, swirling a practically useless fork through sugary foam.“And the snow.”
“What are you doing in LA?”
“Eating waffles.”
You laugh, and he smiles.
“I like your laugh,” he tells you. “You laugh like you mean it.”
“With you? I do.”
The look he gives you borders on awe.
“What?” you ask. “What is it?”
“I think you are magic,” he whispers, like he's afraid to say it out loud. “I don't mean like wands or elves or Brights, I mean like...like-” He looks down, and you don't even think he's seeing the slow escape of a single strawberry. “Like the kind of magic that comes from a perfect BBQ or piles of snow. It's...it's all natural.”
You bite you lip. “You need to stop asking your partner for advice, Nick. You make a person feel special all on your own.”
“Yeah?” He perks up.
“Yes.” His ears flick as he smiles and you barely resist the urge to reach out and touch them. “So. You like the cold, and the snow.”
“Yeah, I mean, can't you just imagine it? Waking up one morning to a deep gray sky, a fire roaring in one of those big cast iron stoves. A pile of blankets and-” He cuts off, seeming to realize he's rambling. “I just like the idea is all. Why? Where would you go for a...a dream vacation?”
You find yourself thinking about Alaska. It was not number one on your list of potential vacation destinations, but now that you have listened to Nick describe it you find you can't quite stop thinking about it. “Well, Alaska doesn't sound horrible.”
“You don't have to say that.”
“You're right, I don't...but I just did. I mean, okay, so, sure. Most people might choose Disneyland or Milan, or Japan as their dream vacation destination, but you, darling, you went for non traditional. And that? I like.”
Nick leans in for a kiss. Your body goes warm, tingling from lips to toes in anticipation. Your eyes are already half closed when you realize that he isn't moving in any further. In fact, he's pulled away. Confused, and a little embarrassed, you open your eyes again and look around.
“What's wrong?” you ask.
His gaze is fixated not on you, but behind. The warmth from them is gone, replaced instead by something distant and uncomfortable. There is a line of visible tension running through his shoulders. A spike of uncertainty spears through you.
“Nick?”
“I smell gunmetal.”
Your uncertainty devolves into fear. You freeze, uncertain what to do, if anything. Just having a gun can't be a problem, right? It's America. Lots of people own guns. You try to comfort yourself with this, but there is something about the look on Nick's face that tells you the comfort of statistics is not going to help much in this situation.
“Jakoby,” a deep, guttural voice says.
“Hello, Isaac.” Nicks words are stilted. His fingers flex around the cup of waffle that he holds.
“You know this Unblooded?” a lighter, but no less guttural voice asks.
Nick's lips form a stark, empty line. He remains still as stone.
A group of orcs saunters around you. At first glance there is a distinct similarity about them, not just in clothing choices; though they must all shop at the same place, but in the pattern of their spots, and the shape of their eyes. They are related, you decide, and, by the length of their sharp teeth, blooded.
“We all know this one,” another orc says. “He's the cop.”
A hiss of contempt ripples through the group. Blue lips peel back to reveal chomping teeth.
“Unblooded and badged,” the smallest of them says. Her eyes, lined with the brightest blue you've ever seen, flick up and down Nick dismissively. The thick, golden earrings that dangle from her lobes glitter as her head tilts in your direction. “And mixing.”
You hear a sharp intake of breath. It's your own. Anger, unexpected and hot, flares through you. You don't know who these people are, but they are making Nick uncomfortable and you do not like that. The only thing that keeps you in your seat is knowing that at least one of them is carrying a gun.
Nick shifts his weight, and somehow you find his shoulder is in front of yours. It's not much, the smallest of movements, but it speaks volumes on its own. Other than that, he remains completely still. They notice.
“Look at that,” Isaac snorts. “Showing some teeth.”
“Come on guys. We don't have to do this.” Nick shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
“Shara, how bad does an orc have to be that he can't even get another round tooth to look at him?”
Shara's runs her tongue across her teeth. “Pretty bad.”
“Can't even shoot for elf flesh. Gotta settle for human.” Isaac makes a sound that comes out like a snarl. “But it's always been like this for you, hasn't it Jakoby? Always chasing after humans. Trying to dress, like them, act like them. Even tried to take one to prom. What was her name?” Isaac steps forward, his eyes glittering and angry. There is a chip on the side of one of his long teeth, making it look jagged, and sharp. A thick lattice chain with a symbol you don't recognize glitters around his neck. “Laura? Barbra?”
“Becky.” Nick says, growling out the name. “Her name was Becky.”
“You know,” one of the others says, reaching out with a thick fingered hand to tug at the collar of your shirt. “This one isn't so bad for a human. Nice skin.” He brushes his finger over your cheek. You yank back.
Nick surges to his feet, and it's this action that everyone seems to have been waiting for. A circle forms around him, shoulder to shoulder, blocking you out. You stumble, your waffle falling to the ground.
“Hey!” you shout.
“What are you going to do, Unblooded?” Isaac demands, ignoring you. “You gonna show teeth?”
Nick's jaw clenches until the speckles on his cheeks go pale, but he says nothing. You can see his hands clench and unclench. There is a trembling anger there and you wonder what would happen if it snapped.
“Course he wont,” Shara's voice drips with disgust. “Not even for his piece of flesh.”
Your name leaves Jakoby's lips. He says it softly at first, barely more than a whisper.
“What was that?” Isaac demands, “What did you just say?”
“That is my date, not a piece of flesh.” Jakoby's lips twist upwards. “And my date has a name.” He repeats it again, and this time it comes out as a snarl.
“What the fuck do I care what your date's name is? All that matters, Jakoby, is that you made the mistake of walking down this street, dressed like a fucking elf, with a piece of human flesh-”
You aren't sure who is more surprised by the strike; you, Nick, or the gathered orcs. But Nick's swing connects with Isaac's cheek with a resounding strike. Isaac's head snaps to the side. A spray of blood gets caught against his teeth, turning them from pearl white to angry red.
There is a moment of absolute motionlessness. You forget to breathe. You don't completely understand the complexities of what's going on, but you know enough to know that what Jakoby just did broke some kind of rule. The circle of orcs all look at him like he just stepped on a mouse for fun.
“You drew my blood,” Isaac says, disbelieving.
Nick's eyes are wide. He looks at his still closed fist and the spattering of blood that dapples the leaden blue. He looks up. Your gazes meet and you can see the regret that fills them.
Isaac's strike catches Nick in the stomach, doubling him over. A second hit to the back of his head sends Nick to the ground. Someone's foot flies out, connecting with his jaw. Blood and spittle come out in a high arc, landing on damp concrete. Shara's fist slams into Nick's ear. After that the strikes come in quick, ugly succession. The sound of fists slamming into flesh becomes a terrible drumming. You keep waiting for Nick to fight back, but he doesn't. He takes every hit without more than a grunt of pain.
“Stop it! Stop!” you cry, but they don't hear you. No one seems to.
You spin in a circle, looking for someone, anyone to step in and help. But all you see are uncomfortable looks and diverted gazes. One lone teen is capturing the entire incident on his phone. When he sees you looking he smiles, abashed, and runs off.
“Remember your place, Unblooded!” Isaac is snarling as his fist come down again and again on Nick's back. “Remember what you are.”
Nick can't answer, there is blood spilling from between his lips. His hands are planted on the ground, his head bowed as if he is receiving benediction rather than a beating. A heavy foot slams into his back, driving him flat against the ground.
“Nick?” you call, unable to help yourself. “God, Nick!”
He doesn't look up. You dive for him, and Shara catches you. With incredible strength she shoves you backwards, her lips twisted into an ugly grin. Unable to stop yourself, you throw your body towards Nick again. Shara, faster than you expected, catches you for a second time. Her hands dig into your shoulders, giving you a hard shake of warning.
“This one has more fire than Jakoby.” She turns and spits at him. Her eyes meet yours. “You deserve better than an unwanted round tooth.”
She shoves you back before you can answer. You stumble, landing hard on the ground. Your head connects with the side of the fountain, and all you can see before your vision starts to go blurry is a single, whip cream dappled strawberry falling into the fountain.
