#probably hate

“Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh, I think I fucked up…” you turn half of your body to face him sheepishly.

Nikki looks over to you, then down at the dough you’ve been working on. Raising one eyebrow he asks, “you think?” which pulls a groan out of you.

“I didn’t mean to add this much water! It just spilled,” you pout at him.

As much as he wants to tease you, he isn’t really one to speak, he did just burn the sauce after all.

“Maybe we should call it a day and order some nice, greasy take out instead?” You usually don't like giving up so easily, but your hunger is outweighing your guilt at the moment.

You couldn’t figure out for the life of you why Nikki and you thought trying to make a homemade dinner was a good idea, especially one that’s new to you both. Initially, since he’s visiting you during his tour, you wanted to do something fun and cute so you could spend some quality time together.

Speaking of which, you still haven’t gotten over the stupid prank he pulled…

You’ve been running around like a headless chicken all day, cleaning your house, restocking your fridge and pantry, and generally redoing things to blow off some steam. You’re too excited, the joy zooming through your veins too fast, you couldn’t even go to the bathroom earlier in peace, body too jittery to hold still.

The cause of this? Your best friend. Well, your best friend who you’re completely and utterly in love with. God, can you get anymore cliché? Your friends—Tommy included, of course—love teasing you about your not-so-subtle crush, even going as far as trying to convince you that he loves you back. But you never listen; so afraid of rejection, you’ve convinced yourself that he can’t possibly love you back the way you do him. That doesn’t stop your traitor mind from wandering and dreaming. This has awarded you a smack upside the head multiple times, because, to put it in your friend’s words: “The boy wouldn’t be leaving in the middle of his tour just to spend your birthday with you if he didn’t have feelings for you, you idiot!”

And there’s the reason the butterflies in your stomach haven’t stopped fluttering for the past week. Nikki’s coming over for your birthday!

The shrill of the phone breaks you out of your daydreaming and has you jumping a foot into the air. “Hello?” your voice is a bit hoarse from the jump scare you just received, and lunging at the device.

“Am I interrupting something?” the voice on the other end comes through in a teasing manner, but if you weren’t so excited, you would have noticed that it sounded a little strained.

“Nikki, hi,” your voice is somehow even more breathy now. “Oh! Um, no, you aren’t interrupting anything. Well not really, I was just cleaning,” you aren't able to completely suppress the excited giggle that comes out. “Um, you know, just making sure you have a good area to sleep in.”

Nikki sighs, “about that…Look, sweetheart,” your stomach drops at his tone. “Something came up, I won’t be able to make it. Please don’t be mad, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

Your breath catches in your throat and a dark sadness washes over you like tar. You don’t know what to say, so all you’re able to come up with is a pathetic little, “oh.”

And that dejected “oh” nearly breaks Nikki’s heart. “I’m sorry, baby,” his voice drops to a low whisper, mad at himself for making you so sad.

“No, no, it’s okay. Don't worry, i-it’s not that big of a deal, I promise.” You can barely control your voice from cracking, tears threatening to spill. “Just call me tomorrow, okay?”

“I will—”

“Um, I gotta go. Have fun, and don’t worry. Bye” You only hear the beginning of your name spill from his lips before you’re hanging up the phone. You can’t stand to keep talking to him, knowing you’ll break down soon.

After ending the call, you just stand there, not sure what to do now. Your stomach has dropped to your toes and you feel like crumbling.

Though before you could fall into a pit of despair, there comes a rapid knocking on your front door. You’re tempted to ignore it and crawl into bed to be miserable in the comfort of your pillows and blankets, but the fucker is pretty insistant. So with the little energy you have left, you force yourself to go answer the door.

You don’t even have enough time to look up at the person before they’re yelling, “surprise!” Stunned by the sheer volume of the man, you take a step back.

There stands Nikki, in a loose t-shirt and shorts, both black of course. He’s got a bag on the ground and both arms thrown in the air.

“I-I thought you weren’t coming? You just called an-and…?”

“I lied! I thought I’d give you a surprise. I got an earlier flight and I used the payphone down the street to call you. But then you sounded so dejected on the phone and I felt so horrible, I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings! I just—I, uh, I rushed over.” Self-conscious about telling you too much and still a bit mad at himself for making you upset, Nikki looks down and rubs the back of his neck.

He barely catches himself when you throw yourself at him. “Oh, don’t you ever dare do that again. I was so heartbroken!” You squeeze him a little tighter and mumble against his neck, “I’m so glad you’re here, Nikki.” The next instant you’re grabbing his shoulders and pushing yourself back, “how have you been? How has the tour been? How are the guys? Please don’t tell me you and Tommy did anything too stupid.”

“Okay okay, let me in first! A man has to pee after being on a flight all day!”

That was a day ago, and now here you are, in his kitchen (having migrated to his house because his tv is “bigger, and better, and louder”) with a disaster in the making.

“Uh, you know what, that seems like a fantastic idea.” Nikki doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s already pouring what was supposed to be the sauce down the drain. “I think I’ve got some menus in that drawer over there,” he points to the end of the kitchen island with his chin.

You hand him the watery bowl to dump into the sink and grab the menus from the drawer he pointed out. Setting them on the counter in front of you, you ask Nikki what he’s in the mood for. Instead of getting an instant reply, you feel Nikki press up against your left side, one hand on the counter beside you and the other coming up to rub your right arm.

He rests his head on your shoulder to look at the menus. “We can get whatever you want, angel.” Nikki hears your breath hitch and feels you slightly tensing in his arms.

He doesn’t want to beat around the bush anymore: he likes you. God does he like you. Rarely did he meet someone that could brighten his day like you, and he knew that whenever someone like that crosses his path, he needs to hold on to them tight. He knew he liked you from the first moment you met, but it wasn’t until Mick pulled him to the side when he brought you over to meet the rest of Mötley Crüe, that Nikki realized just how much he wants you in his life. Especially for the long run.

Nikki distractedly turns his head towards Mick when he hears the older man say your name, while keeping his eyes on you, “hmm?”  

“You’re in love with Y/N, aren’t you?”

Nikki’s eyes widen and he chokes on the whiskey going down his throat, now fully paying attention to Mick. “I don’t-I’m not—”

“Oh come on, Sixx. You keep looking over there like a lovesick puppy. Man up and admit you’re in love.” With that, Mick grabs his vodka and leans back into the couch, closing his eyes.

Since that night, Nikki has been coming to terms with the truth, he is falling in love with you—no scratch that, he is in love with you! And it’s finally time to grow a pair and confess.

“I’m in love with you.”

You both freeze.

While Nikki was thinking back to the conversation with Mick, you were going through a mental gymnastics, and lo and behold: you twirled around—still in his arms—and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind.

After staring at each other for several silent seconds, Nikki intelligently replies, “fuck.” Then he’s laughing uncontrollably.

You’re standing there with eyes as wide as saucers and a heart rate out of this world. A couple seconds of watching him laugh like a maniac later, you release the breath you’ve had trapped in your lungs, and with it comes the tears.

The idiot, without noticing your wet eyes, cups your cheeks and presses a sweet kiss to your forehead. He says your name in a breath that sounds like the world’s weight has just lifted off of his chest, “I’m in love with you too.” The grin dies down on his face when he sees the first tear drop out of your eye. “Wh-what’s wrong?” his voice comes out panicky.

“I confess to you and your immediate reaction is to laugh at me?! You asshole!” Your brows are furrowed but the smile breaks through. “I take it back, I hate you,” you shove his shoulder fondly, gently pushing his body away from you.

He’s back to cupping your jaw and he’s placing kisses all over your face. “Sorry. I’m so, so sorry, angel. I love you. I love you. I love you so fucking much. I was about to tell you when you blurted it out first. I was just so damn happy, baby. I’m crazy about you.”

“I’m crazy about you too, Nikki. Since forever.”