#I'm going to do all of the shorter conversations/pieces with this titling format 'Exchanges: [specific title]'

[angst-fairygodmother]

Exchanges: Morning After (The Song of Sway Lake Short)

When Ollie returns to The Point after his date/sleepover with Jess, he and Nikolai have a heated argument. A/N: Set immediately after “First Date.” I spent too long trying to come up with some of what’s said before I realized, ‘I don’t have to be good and quippy at this, Ollie probably isn’t.’ Word Count: 732 Rating: T - swearing, insults/derogatory language

“Oliver,” Nikolai greeted him as he slipped back into the house along with the first full rays of sunlight. “I see you did not come home last night.”

Ollie cringed, feeling much the way he imagined teenagers did when caught by their parents, up to no good. At least it wasn't his grandmother, he thought with a sigh of relief.

“I uh, yeah. I spent the night at Jess's. So what?” He snapped, feeling peevish. 

“Obviously. She is your siren, like I have mine. So was she a good fuck?”

“What?” Ollie's voice cracked and he felt his neck growing hot.

“I am asking if she was worth your time. If she was easy enough to put out after one dinner--”

“You’d know all about that. Do you even wait for dinner?” Ollie scoffed, interrupting. “It's a little late to try and win the Cold War with an army of your bastard children, don’t you think?”

“What does that even mean?” Nikolai frowned, eyebrows knitting in confusion. 

“It means even if Jess were a whore, which she’s not, you calling her that is a joke. Do you even know the name of the last girl you screwed?”

The Russian actually took a step back, shocked that his friend reacted so fiercely. 

“Of course you don’t,” Ollie continued. “You probably hate those stupid jet skis because you want to be the only quick, rented ride around.”

The words had barely left his lips when Ollie started to regret them, face flushing. He licked his lips nervously, trying to force an apology off his tongue but Nikolai spoke before he could.

“You would fight me over this chick Oleg?”

“I…” Ollie hesitated. 

His first instinct was to say yes. It was already obviously the answer. The thought made his gut twist. He was already hurling words, but he was alarmed to realize he was willing, and in fact tempted, to take a swing at his best and possibly only real friend because of a girl. 

Nikolai picked up on his hesitation and scowled. 

“She is nothing, you see. You can find a hundred Jessicas. Anywhere you spit, when we go back to the city.”

“You're wrong!” Ollie shouted, getting up in the taller man's face, his own growing red. “Jess is...She's…I love her.”

Nikolai laughed, incredulous.

“I'm serious, Nik,” Ollie said, sounding somewhat surprised himself, as he took a step back from their confrontation and sat heavily in one of the dining chairs. 

“So she was a really good fuck then?” 

“Ugh,” Ollie groaned. “You don't get it! We didn't even have sex. We just talked, and laid together and actually slept. But...it felt...special.”

“I don't understand. You think you love this chick but you didn't…” he frowned. “Why not?”

“It wasn't the right moment. If I'm going to be with her, it should be perfect. Like her.”

“How can you know you love her if you don't lose yourself to passion and burn with desire at the very sight of her? If you don't want to seize her in your arms and have her at every moment?”

“I feel like I can talk to her about anything. Like she really cares to hear what I have to say. And she sees me, not The Last of the Sway Family or whatever. And I want to know everything about her. I just left her place and I already miss her so badly it hurts. That has to be love.”  

Nikolai fell silent, studying the wistful look on his face as Ollie talked about the girl. There was an odd twist in his gut. Something in his words felt familiar, like the emotion spoke to Nikolai's own. But there was also jealousy there: toward Ollie who was so desperate to cast aside his family name, who had truly everything now and didn't seem to notice, and toward Jess who was a no one, a shopkeep, nothing special, like him, and was threatening to take away what little he had, the brother-bond he had fought so hard to forge. 

After a prolonged moment, he shook his head. “You are too romantic for your own good Oleg. She is not so special.” He shrugged, as if to say he was bored of the conversation. “We are wasting the day. The sooner we find your Pops’ record so you can leave her behind, the better.”