nicky nichols one shots

Flush it {tw}

TW: Drug use, Relapsing
{this is a dramatic one ig}

You're slumped across your bed, head resting against the cool wall behind it, breathing deeply and slowly. Your eyelids are heavy but you couldn't care less, you're in absolute contentment. The feeling you've been craving and itching for has finally been coursing through you. Through your pale blue veins. The first hit was an intense euphoria and now you're lazing it out. You're looking at the - uhh, what are they called - folds of the blanket on the bed opposite you. You examine it. Folds are so difficult to draw without a reference, you think. Hm.
But can you draw anything without prior reference? That sounded philosophical.

You're gaze slides to your own legs and the folds of your pants. Prison pants. Such an ugly colour, Sandlike.
You blink heavily.
What is it you were thinking about?
Hmm...
Awareness leaves you again.

"Having a midday nap?" Nicky's voice breaks through the thin layer of your consciousness. Her voice has the usual level of grit and a hint of amusement. You force your eyelids to open. She's in her typical - just saying an impromptu hi - position, elbow propped against the edge of the cube, leaning casually against the doorway, sucking her teeth. Perfect as ever.
She's silhouetted slightly by the buzzing yellow ceiling lights, her flyaways swaying gently in the draft that must be moving through the corridor. You realise slowly that you're supposed to respond and lying there, mouth agape, is not considered socially normal. You then come to the realisation that you're probably seeming very out of character and visibly fucked, and Nicky, of all people, can't know this.
Ah shit. She'll kill you.
You blink and try to use your arms to prop yourself further upright.
"Just feeling sleepy." You reply, swallowing, in an attempt to combat your dry-mouth.
Water would be really good right now.
Was your response normal?
Your position across the bed certainly isn't but your limbs are like lead. You try to keep yourself from blinking again.
She's eyeing you. Fuck's sake.
You force your limbs to comply and use your arms to fold your legs, shuffling so you're sat upright. How much time has passed since she arrived? You try to scramble your thoughts for something to say. She beats you to it.
"Pennsatucky keep you up again?" She's walking in now. You follow her movements. She's reaching for your chair and dragging it towards the bed. It scrapes across the floor unpleasantly, you flinch. Your eyes are so heavy, there's no way you can keep up a conversation.
Fuck - you're supposed to be clean.
She's dragged the chair over so it's facing backwards and straddles it. Her arms wrap around the backrest. You're just watching her. Her eyes are so dark. Right, she asked a question. What was it? Pennsatucky? Pennsatucky. Your inner voice automatically becomes southern. You almost giggle. She's watching you. Right, right, did she keep you up?
"No, no..." You sniffle, your nose is starting to run. How long was your response time? You wipe your nose with your sleeve, blinking rapidly, "just, slept rough." You manage to finish.
She's watching you intently now, are her brows slightly furrowed? Maybe you didn't say enough, did she reply? No. Her mouth hasn't moved, her lips haven't moved. You tear your eyes away from them. You decide to add to your statement in an attempt to appear natural.
"Bad dreams... You know..." You blink heavily, the world is fading out again. You struggle to stay conscious, you're somehow leaning against the wall again.
"Hey." You hear her say sharply.
Your eyes open reluctantly, she definitely has a look or concern on her face. Her eyes are flicking between yours.
Fucking shit.
"I'm just so tired Nicky sorry..." Your mouth moved on it's own. Thank God, maybe she'll leave now.
She's standing up.
Praise the lord above.
Your eyes are closing again, your body sinking lower.

You feel a hand against your face and your eyes fly open. She's holding your jaw.
"Look at me." Her eyes scan yours, face unreadable.
"Hey get off." You try to push her hand away but she has a firm grip and you're currently weak handed. Fuck. Her face has fallen and you can tell she's trying to hold back emotion.
"Where is it?" Is all she says.
Ah shit.
You're frustrated. Why should she care? Who gives a shit, it's not affecting her, you're just indulging yourself, not hurting anyone else.
Your addiction fuelled thoughts ebb away.
But it's Nicky, and she knows. She can't know.
Maybe you can play it off, maybe she's still unsure, maybe you can worm your way out.
"What?" You ask blankly in what you think is a tactful manner. Did you manage to convey the look of innocence you were going for? The look on her face suggests not.
"Don't try and mess with me, your pupils are pinpricks and you're acting like a fucking puddle." Her voice is raised. She's angry. Is that a sadness too? You're just staring back at her.
"Fucking hell." She runs her hand through her hair and closes her eyes in frustration. Or maybe it's disappointment. Either way, she's upset. She breathes in deeply and opens her eyes.
"Why?" She asks looking at you. Searching for an answer though she knows the feeling all too well. You don't respond. She just examines you.
"What happened?" Her voice cracks ever so slightly. She's at a loss for words, a rare occasion.
She sighs at your lack of coherence and stands.
"Where is it?" She repeats, "is it in here?"
Your eyes follow her lazily.
She's pulling your cabinet open and rifling through it. What's she planning to do with it? She can't take it, you think angrily. It's not hers.
She looks around the back of the cabinet. A thought occurs to you.
"Are you gonna tell Red?" You ask, running cold, the sudden realisation of what all of this leads up to hitting you. The road of addiction and ostracisation or the road of withdrawal and guilt.
Either way it's not good.
She doesn't reply, but closes the cabinet and walks to the bed.
"No." She says eventually, looking at you and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear compassionately.
"But you have to tell me where it is so we can flush it okay? Then it will be gone and you'll be okay." She's nodding in a way that makes you want to agree with her. You think for a moment about just telling her, for your own good, before the high wears off, but you notice a glint to her eye that you've never seen before that stops you in your tracks. You're unsure of her motives and you realise she might be unsure of them too.
When you don't elicit a response, she starts feeling round the sides of the mattress and under it, running her hands around the inside of the pillow case and feeling under the blanket.
"Come on." She drops the pillow back on the bed and stands in front of you.
"I know you don't wanna be rid of it but if we go now before it wears off it will be easier." Her knees are against the bed, her eyes roaming your face. "Red doesn't have to know, it can be done, like this never happened, the come down won't even be rough."
She touches your hand.
"Just tell me where it is."
You blink at her. Now she thinks she's being tactful.
"No." You push yourself upright, shaking your head, "No I won't." You swallow.
"If you don't tell me, you know Red will find out sooner or later"
"Is that a threat?"
She looks take aback. Shocked, even, that you'd suggest that. You're frustrated. You just wanted some peace and here she is disturbing it, trying to take the one substance that eases it out. That you paid for even. Reminding you of concepts outside of this content moment. Whether she means to flush it, or take it for herself, it doesn't matter, it will still be gone.
"Stop." You say.
"You know it's best." She says, with that look of great concern. She's right and you know that deep down but that doesn't override the nagging need for it.
"Where is it?" She repeats, sternly.
"You can't have it!" You reply, agitated. Your anger incites hers.
"What, is it on you?" She raises her brows, catching your wrists, her breath quickening, her motives now apparent.
"No it's not on me!" You try and pull your hands away half heartedly, too drowsy to put in your full effort. She runs her other hand around the waistband of your trousers, her fingers running around the skin of your midriff. You might enjoy her closeness if it weren't for the circumstances. You barely squirm, aware she's cold and not getting warmer anytime soon. It's safe far, far away, you grin at this thought.
"You done with the pat down?"
"Just give it to me, okay?" She says, backing up and changing her tone.
"Why so you can do it?"
Her eyes snap to yours, she's suddenly still. There's a long pause.
"Who sold to you?" She asks quietly. You think for a moment.
The guilt of your own relapse is heavy enough without the added weight of Nicky's.
"There's no way in hell i'm telling you that." You reply, exhausted, the chemicals losing their effect.
She blinks, looking down with guilt and breathing in.
"Look," she thinks for a moment, "If we go to Red now, explain the situation, she can get rid of it."
"I can do it myself." You say defiantly, knowing full well you won't. She knows that too. She looks at you with concern once again.
"Please." She says.

{idk idk, not tryna romanticise drugs, just felt like doing something a little heavier that i feel like could have happened in the show - maybe - i don't know.

also if you have any requests - message me, i'm bored and need ideas thankyouuuuu}