Camping

Title: Camping: Chapter Fourteen: Absolutely Fabulously Perfect

Author: Allison Wonderland

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Nicky and Princess go out to a Russian restaurant called Trojka for dinner.

Warning(s): Language, homosexuality

Disclaimer: None needed. I own it all.

Note(s): Trojka is pronounced Troy-kah. As of somewhere in the middle of this chapter, I have finished NaNoWriMo with well over 50,000 words. Despite that, I am going to be continuing this story until I finish it, hopefully sometime in December or January.

Princess was not drunk when Nicky handed him out of the car at the restaurant. He was. Not. Drunk. He was, however, a little unsteady on his feet after two Bellinis and more than a little giggly. But he was. Not. Drunk. The hostess, a woman dressed in a crisp, clean long sleeved white button down shirt and a severe black pencil skirt that came down to her knees – she so could have used Princess’s fashion advice; maybe they would hire him to design the uniforms here – greeted them as soon as they stepped into the one story brick building – Princess a little less than steady on his feet but not nearly enough to indicate that he was drunk. Which he was not.

“Welcome to Trojka,” she said with a slight Russian accent. “Do you have reservations?” Katerina – for that was what her nametag said her name was – was hard to understand when she spoke in English. Her accent was stronger than the one Nicky put on when he was trying to make Princess laugh.

Nicky answered her in Russian – one of the three languages he had been speaking since before he was even a year old. That Princess really did not understand. He had been with Nicky long enough that he could pick up a word of Japanese or Russian here and there and could curse fluently in both languages but that was the extent of his understanding. Then Nicky gave her his credit card and his name – that Princess did understand. Nicky always used his real Russian full name – Nikkita Ivanovich – when he did not want to be recognized as the internationally famous – or infamous – rock star Nicky Narcissus.

Unable to further understand the conversation, Princess quickly lost interest. The word or two he could pick up here or there was not telling him much, just something about Moscow – he thought – and something about gremlins or maybe it was the Kremlin and something else was red or maybe the gremlins or the Kremlin was red. That was when he spaced out. He glanced around the restaurant, taking in the décor. Anything of interest was also Russian or had Russian writing – what was that stuff called? Cyllinderish? Cyrillic? – and since he could not read it – well, not much anyway; he could recognize his own name and Nicky’s – that instantly rendered it uninteresting. The stained glass windows were kind of pretty even though – in Princess’s opinion – the colors were all wrong. The images depicted in the glass were horses. Princess liked horses. He had grown up on a farm and had been riding horses almost before he could walk.

But the horses could only hold Princess’s attention for so long without bringing back painful memories and tonight was not for painful memories. Tonight was for celebrating their one night together before they went – quelle horror – camping tomorrow. His gaze wandered off again and he glanced at the people around the restaurant. For once there was no one he knew except…

Huh.

Well, that was slightly interesting. The couple seated at a table in the corner almost hidden by the overhanging plastic vegetation…

Why, they looked just like…

The smaller, blonder man tossed his head in a way that was only seen on the runway and giggled, a giggle Princess was almost as familiar with as his own. He froze.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

No! Damn it! This was not supposed to happen! Not on the one night Princess was supposed to be spending alone with Nicky. The whole reason he had wanted to come to Trojka tonight was because the food was Russian – and totally awesome – as well as most everyone who worked there and very few of the waiters and waitresses spoke English. Nicky was the only one among the group of friends they often hung out with – which included Raven, Taylor, Harper, Jordan, Skyler, Uriel, and Princess’s sister Sarah, among a few others – who spoke Russian fluently, although Princess was pretty sure Skyler could speak it enough to order food at a restaurant but he knew for a fact that Skyler and Uriel were still at Uriel’s villa somewhere in the Hollywood hills where they were spending their one week break from touring with Champions On Ice. So the odds were good that Nicky and Princess would not run into anyone they knew at a primarily Russian-speaking establishment. And yet somehow Raven and Taylor – neither of whom had ever spoken or written a single word of Russian - were sitting at a corner table by the front window. Thank God said front window was stained glass and opaque enough that that other people coming in and going out were invisible to anyone trying to look out from inside or in from outside.

Princess tugged on Nicky’s shirtsleeve. Nicky ignored him. “Nicky,” he whined, tugging a little harder this time. “Stop ignoring me.”

“What is it, Princess?” Nicky asked, cutting short his very Russian conversation with the hostess.

Happy to finally have his boyfriend’s attention without calling too much attention to the two of them, Princess pointed to the table in the corner that was partly obscured by the overhanging plastic foliage.

Nicky gave Princess a confused look, not quite able to figure out what he was trying to say. It was not a rare thing when Princess confused someone but it was usually someone else. Normally Nicky was able to figure him out without too much trouble.

“Raven and Taylor,” Princess said when Nicky gave him a confused look.

Nicky smiled in understanding. Raven and Taylor were two of Princess’s most favorite people. “Do you want to-“ he began. He was going to suggest they join the fashion designers for dinner. After all, there was no ‘pasta with meatless balls’ on the Trojka menu for Princess and Raven to giggle about the way there had been on the menu of the Italian restaurant the four of them had gone to the last time they had gone out to dinner together. But Princess, of course, cut him off again.

“No. I don’t want to,” Princess insisted. “I mean, it would be nice and all but…” Princess hesitated. He did not want to be selfish – that was the one thing he was not, despite the fame and money and…everything else. “I want…I mean…we only have one night together to be alone and I don’t want…” He struggled to find the words to say what was in his mind. “I don’t want to share you. You know?”

Nicky understood. He smiled. “I understand,” he said. He turned back to the hostess and spoke briefly in Russian again. The hostess – Katerina – nodded and turned away to lead them in the opposite direction from where Raven and Taylor were sitting.

She seated them at a table for two away from the rest of the dinner crowd, near the bathroom and hidden partially behind their own plastic foliage. It was not the best table in the house or even a very good one but it was perfect as far as Princess was concerned. Nicky was a very recognizable person not only because he as a famous – or infamous – rock star but also because he was well over six feet tall. If they had had a better table someone – or many someones – would no doubt have recognized Nicky and ruined their dinner with hundreds of requests for autographs and photographs. Their table, like Raven and Taylor’s, being in a far corner of the room and shielded from most of the rest of the room by overhanging plastic vines and fake ficus trees, was perhaps the best place for them. Princess found the obvious plasticity of the décor tacky but tonight he would not complain. It served his purpose of having a semi-private romantic dinner with his boyfriend in a restaurant that was one of the best kept secrets in New York City.

Princess slid into the half moon shaped, red leather covered booth first. He frowned when Nicky slid in beside him but kept an appropriate amount of distance between the two of them. Nicky had a rule about public displays of affection. He hated them. It was not that he did not want to kiss Princess or make out with him in the middle of the mall – on the very, very rare occasions when they went shopping together – so much as it was that he hated having their every public romantic moment plastered all over the front of every tabloid in North America as well as a few European ones. He wriggled a little closer to Nicky anyway and his boyfriend did not push him away. Not that he really thought Nicky would ever push him away. The hostess handed them menus and the wine list. The moment she was gone Princess wriggled closer still.

“Behave, Princess,” Nicky said, letting his arm rest around his boyfriend’s slight shoulders. He knew that look, the look that said Princess was up to something and that the something probably involved sex. “This isn’t the time or the place,” he added just in case he was right.

Princess glanced down at the menu open before him. It looked confusing and he blinked, trying to force the mostly unfamiliar symbols into a form he would understand. “Huh,” he said softly when the words on the menu continued to be written in Cyrillic. “Nicky, this isn’t English. It’s Russian.”

“Honey,” Nicky said, laughing, “this is a Russian restaurant and I was speaking Russian with the hostess. Did you really think we would get the English menus after that?”

That had not occurred to Princess. “Huh,” he said softly. “Well…” For once Princess was at a loss for words. That rarely happened. He always had something to say, even if it was something snarky or insulting.

This time Nicky forced himself not to laugh again. The totally confused expression on Princess’s face was priceless, not to mention one of the cutest things he had ever seen. “It’s okay, honey,” he said. “Don’t strain yourself.” He patted Princess’s arm.

Princess slapped at his boyfriend. “But that’s not fair!” he protested. “I can’t read it!” They had this discussion every time they came here but by now it was almost part of the Trojka experience. Princess pouted for only a moment even though he really did not care. Nicky knew his likes and dislikes well enough to order for him and really, as long as he got his black caviar and blini, he really did not care what else he ate. “You can order for me,” he decided. That was how it always went when they came here anyway.

Nicky had already anticipated that. “Is there anything in particular you want?” he asked. Princess was picky about what he ate. There were only certain things he liked and a lot of things he refused to even consider eating. Besides, with Fashion Week coming up in September and Princess opening the Fantasticka show, he had been seriously freaking out about every single bite he ate and every single – mostly imaginary – pound he gained. “Or anything you don’t want?” Nicky added as an after thought.

“Not really.” Princess was sure he had probably lost weight while Nicky was gone on tour with his band. When Nicky was home he demanded that Princess eat at least one actual meal every day and claimed that anything that came from Starbucks or out of a cereal box was not food. With Nicky gone, all Princess had been eating was stuff that came from Starbucks or out of a cereal box. One dinner was not going to hurt him. “I want something ethnic,” he told Nicky. “Something really, really Russian. But no bugs. No snails or ants or beetles or grasshoppers or squid or anything like that. Oh, and caviar and blini. We have to have that.”

Nicky agreed with the caviar and blini. It was his favorite appetizer as well as his favorite midnight snack. But he had to tease Princess, just a little. “How about octopus?” he asked. He did not see it on the menu anywhere and it was not a typically Russian dish anyway but he felt he had to ask anyway just to remind Princess of that.

“Of fuck no!” Princess exclaimed a little too loudly. He shuddered. On one of their frequent trips up to Segundo to visit Nicky’s mother, Izumi’s Foreign Delicacies club had been holding a fundraiser for AIDS babies and Nicky had dragged Princess along because it was food and Nicky’s stomach was a bottomless pit. Princess liked the word ‘delicacies’ and what it meant so he had been willing to go along. Even when he had seen the menu he had still been convinced that it was a joke. Then he had been proven wrong but Princess took pride in the fact that he had not vomited when he had watched his boyfriend, along with most everyone else in attendance, pick up a baby octopus that was very much alive and kicking, wrap its legs around a stick, and swallow it whole.

“Okay, honey,” Nicky agreed. “You don’t have to eat an octopus.” He knew exactly what his Princess was thinking. “What do you want to drink? What kind of vodka?” They would tackle the wine list after that. “One vodka,” he added. Princess had already had a glass of champagne in the limo, they would have a bottle of wine here, and probably more champagne on the way home. If Princess had more than one vodka he would be unconscious by the time they got home. The last thing Nicky wanted in the morning was a hung over Princess. He had called Ayame after making reservations at Trojka that night to tell her that both he and Princess would be going camping with her and the girls. After her initial uncontrollable laughter on hearing that Princess actually wanted to go camping, she had revealed that she had already booked them a flight that left at seven o’ clock in the morning. They would have to be at the airport by at least five o’ clock and probably out of bed so they could pack by at least two thirty or three o’ clock. There was no way Nicky could possibly drag Princess out of bed after so little sleep and have him actually be coherent enough to pack his own bags, especially after a night of drinking so much.

So he had come to a simple decision. He would keep Princess up all night and let him sleep on the plane to Colorado tomorrow.

“I want a pepper and honey vodka,” Princess said. It was the same thing he always had when he came here. He hated being predictable but he loved them.

That had been far too easy. “All right then.” But Nicky would take ‘easy’ from Princess while he could get it. He glanced at the menu and decided to order himself a plain Smirnoff vodka and stick to only having one as well. If he had more than one Princess would have an absolute fit and demand to be allowed to have as many vodkas as Nicky had and that was never good. In fact, it had on occasion led to drinking contests – drinking contests that Nicky always won, but not by much, regardless of Princess’s lack of size. “What kind of wine?” Nicky asked. He doubted it would do any good. Princess knew next to nothing about wine.

True to form, Princess just shrugged. “I don’t know. Something pretty?”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Right, then,” he said. He glanced at the wine list and rejected several types and vintages of wine before finally deciding on one that he though might appeal to Princess. “How about this?” Nicky asked, pointing to a selection near the bottom of the list. He held the little laminated card so Princess could see it.

Princess looked at the wine list. “Nicky,” he said, studying his boyfriend seriously. “It’s in Russian. I can’t read it.”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Of course you can’t,” he said almost to himself. He was so going to teach Princess to read and speak at least Russian and Japanese one day. “Rose d’ Anjou,” he translated for Princess.

“That sounds French. What is it?” Nicky spoke French too. Sometimes Princess was jealous of his boyfriend’s gift for languages.

“It’s easy to drink and goes down smoothly and it’s kind of sweet but not too overwhelmingly sweet. And it tastes like strawberry and cherry.”

Princess liked strawberry and cherry. “Okay, I guess,” he said. But he did not particularly care about the different types of wine. As long as it tasted good, he liked it.

The waitress – another Russian woman, this one older and with a name tag reading Aleksandra – appeared suddenly at the table and Nicky ordered their drinks in yet more flawless Russian. Then he turned back to Princess. This was the hard part. “Now,” he said, “what would you like to eat?”

Princess shrugged. “It’s Russian, Nicky.” They were so going somewhere with an English menu the next time they went out on a date.

“All right, baby.” Nicky had been so sure Princess could decipher at least a few of the words on the menu. He knew his boyfriend could read a few Cyrillic words as well as curse fluently in Russian but maybe Princess just did not want to try tonight. It was not as if Nicky really cared. They were on a date on their one night alone, anyway, not on a school fieldtrip. But he strengthened his resolve to teach Princess both of his second languages. “Um…” he said, studying the menu for something he thought Princess would like. “Black caviar and blinis to start with, right?” Nicky asked even though he already knew the answer.

Princess bounced on the red leather seat, proving that the bench did indeed have springs. “Yes,” he squealed. “With sour cream!” Princess loved caviar on blinis with sour cream. Like Nicky, it was his favorite appetizer as well as his favorite midnight snack. “And we could get some to take home, right?” he asked. “So if we get hungry later on…”

Nicky smiled. Apparently Princess had the same idea about staying up all night that he had. “Sure,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

Princess gave Nicky that shy little smile he always got when they talked about sex. There was something about their intimate activities that always turned him into that shy little boy from Virginia again. “And then we can…you know…until it’s time to leave for the airport tomorrow morning and sleep on the plane tomorrow.”

“Actually, Princess,” Nicky said, laughing, “That’s exactly what I planned on doing.”

Princess smiled. That worked out perfectly. He was in one of those rare strange moods tonight, one of those moods that made him want to try things in bed that they did not usually do, things he was extremely familiar with but in a role he did not usually play and was not quite used to assuming. “Good,” he said simply. He was not sure Nicky would be up for what he wanted to do – though he usually was – and wanted to keep his desires to himself for a little while longer, at least until they got home.

“Here you go,” Nicky said. He thought he might have found something Princess would be willing to eat. “How about shashlik?” he asked.

Princess hesitated for a moment before he answered. Shashlik, he thought, shashlik, shashlik, shashlik. The more times he repeated the word in his mind the more familiar the word seemed. He had heard it somewhere before but he had no idea where. Except maybe Nicky or some of his family who also spoke Russian might have said it in a conversation he had overheard. “What’s that?” he asked, unable to place exactly where he had heard it.

“Um…” Nicky said, not quite sure how to explain it to Princess. It was so simple when his mother made it but trying to explain it was harder than Nicky thought it should be. “It’s like little pieces of grilled chicken that have been marinated in some sort of sauce. It comes with peppers and bacon on a plate of white rice.” That sounded close enough to what his mother made. Nicky might be able to write brilliant songs but when it came to describing actual things, he sucked.

“Oh.” That sounded like something Princess would eat. Bacon was full of fat and calories but maybe just a little bit would be all right. Besides, he loved chicken in all of its forms. “Do I have to eat the peppers?” he asked. He was already sure he knew the answer but he wanted to ask anyway, just in case.

“Not if you don’t want them but you have to eat the rest of it.” Far too many times had the two of them gone out for lunch or dinner or even on a date and Princess had ordered a huge plate full of something that had cost far too much for him to waste and yet he did.

“I will,” Princess said. “I’m starving, Nicky.”

For His Royal Highness to admit to something as crude as being starving he had to really be hungry. And Princess was going to need to eat in order to keep up his strength for what Nicky had planned – okay, not really planned exactly, more like what he hand in mind – for the rest of the night and early the next morning. “Then I guess we’ll have to see about feeding you before you waste away from starvation, won’t we?” Nicky asked.

Princess giggled. “What are you having?” he asked. He had to make sure Nicky was having something he liked or at least something he wanted to tasted so he could beg for bites from his boyfriend’s plate and Nicky would feed him with his own fork.

“This,” Nicky said. He pointed to a word on the menu. Then he realized Princess was still unable to read Russian. “It’s this thing called coulibiak. It’s a really old Russian recipe.”

“Yeah. But what is it?” Princess asked. No doubt if he had been able to understand more than a few words of Russian that were not curse words he would have known what it was just from that one word.

“It’s um…sort of like a…pot pie…kind of?” Nicky so hated descriptions of food. Or anything else that was not part of a song he was writing for that matter. “It’s like a pie. That’s made with salmon. And there’s mushrooms and spinach and rice in it with smetana on top and it has fresh tomato sauce with it.”

That sounded good, even though Princess was not thrilled about eating salmon. Or any other type of fish for that matter. It just smelled too bad. “What’s smetana?” he asked. He probably knew. He knew he had heard that word before in relation to food but he still had no idea what it was.

“Sour cream,” Nicky told him. “It’s a little different from regular sour cream but it’s still basically the same thing.” Then he thought of something else. “It’s that stuff you put on caviar. That stuff you call sour cream? It’s not really sour cream. It’s smetana, only they’re basically the same thing.”

“Oh,” Princess said. “Right.” Of course now that Nicky said that he knew exactly what it was.

The waitress came with their drinks and Nicky ordered their caviar and blini along with the main courses they had decided on. Once she was gone the rock star kissed the top of Princess’s head and hugged him with the arm already around his shoulders. Princess smiled as he snuggled against Nicky. Their one night alone was shaping up to be absolutely perfect. First there was a limo ride with champagne, then dinner with Nicky where Nicky was actually being affectionate with him in public – never mind that they were hidden at a table in the corner behind a large tacky…fake green leafy thingy. And then later on there would be sex and Princess would request something a little different from what they usually did. And Nicky, never able to deny him anything, would give him anything he wanted.

Tonight – as well as the early hours of tomorrow morning – was going to be absolutely fabulously perfect!