Touching Base

Nathan Drake paused on the doorstep when he noticed that the friendly old woman from next door was waving at him from her yard. The fifteen-year-old didn't quite know what the few residents of the quiet drive thought about their previously childless neighbor suddenly having a kid around, but six months had passed and nobody seemed particularly concerned. Then again, they were likely all too familiar with Victor Sullivan's indiscriminate love life, so they probably assumed he was the accidental consequence of a drunken one-night stand come back to haunt the poor bachelor. Historically, Nate wasn't too fond of being considered an 'accidental' anything, but he figured he could live with the assumption if it kept people from asking too many questions. He smiled brightly and returned the old lady's wave. Then he pushed open the front door and carelessly flung it shut behind him.

"Jesus Christ! Could you be any louder?" Nate peered into the dimly lit house to find Sully glaring at him from the living room. "The hell did I tell you about slamming the damn door?"

One look at the adult's disheveled appearance was enough to determine why his irritated demands had come out sounding more like growls than actual words. He was lying limply on the couch with one leg on the armrest and the other dangling off the side, his hair looked like it had a mind of its own, his clothes were a rumpled mess, and he had that overall pained expression of a man dealing with the aftermath of a little too much alcohol the night before. Nate smirked as he stepped back outside, reentered, and made a show of closing the door behind him with exaggeratedly delicate movements.

"Better?" he asked.

"Wise ass."

The teen returned Sully's unamused frown with a smug grin. Then he noisily kicked off his sneakers and trotted into the living room.

"So what're we watching, old timer?" he asked after he'd plopped into a nearby armchair and registered that the television was quietly playing in the background.

"A goddamn massacre, that's what," Sully grumbled in response.

Nate lifted an eyebrow and turned his head to discover a baseball game underway. The kid didn't know what Sully saw in the most boring sport ever invented, but he also didn't really see what people saw in sports period. He'd always been more of a bookish loner, so he hadn't bothered to participate in many sport-like activities growing up. The closest he'd come in recent memory was when Sully had found his old glove and asked the last time he'd thrown a ball around. The man had looked shocked and dismayed to hear: "Uh, never." And the next thing Nate knew, the glove was in his hands and he was being dragged into the backyard for an old fashioned game of catch. In retrospect, he kind of regretted playing the role of the disinterested teenager because it had actually been kind of fun. After everything he'd been through, it had been nice to do something normal for a change.

Sully groaned in frustration, jarring Nate out of his thoughts. "I can't take this anymore. Hand me the remote, would ya?"

Always eager to stop watching baseball, Nate obediently leaned out of his chair to shuffle through the maps and books that were cluttering the surface of the coffee table. After a preliminary search, it became clear that the remote was not where it belonged. "You sure you're not laying on it?" he asked.

"I might've accidentally kicked it under the couch," Sully responded in a way that indicated he knew he kicked it under the couch, and there was no 'might've' about it.

Nate leaned back in his chair. "Well, that sounds like your problem then."

"Hey, kid," Sully was already prepared with his retort. "Remember that time the cord around your ring snapped, and I had to lower myself into that godforsaken crack in the earth to get it back for you? But don't worry about the remote, I guess. I see how it is."

Accepting that he'd lost that round, Nate slid out of his chair so he could reach his arm under the couch. He didn't have the energy to point out that he'd been perfectly willing to retrieve the ring on his own. Sully was the one who had refused to let him because he was "too skinny" and he'd "be liable to slip all the way to the goddamn underworld or something." The old man could be infuriatingly protective when he wanted to be.

"How long you plannin' on milking that one?"

"As long as it works."

Nate huffed and began his one-armed expedition into the no man's land beneath the couch. At first, his blind grabbing turned up nothing but air and the occasional dust bunny, but just when he was about to give up, his hand closed over something that was decidedly not a remote. He inadvertently froze when his brain registered the mystery item's lacy, stringy qualities. Oh God. Despite the voice in his head telling him to abort the mission and run, he slowly retracted his arm. He wasn't so much surprised as he was horrified to find himself clutching somebody's discarded purple thong.

"Uhh, Sully…" Nate sat up and gingerly lifted the undergarment between his thumb and index finger. "You lose somethin'?"

Sullivan craned his neck to see what could've possibly made the kid sound so disturbed. He stared at the scene in front of him as he desperately tried to piece together why a young boy (who still blushed about girls, he might add) was dangling a thong in his face. It took him a shamefully long time, but his brain eventually linked the skimpy material back to the perfect pair of legs he'd slid them down, and he started to grin.

"Well, I'll be damned! We looked all over for that thing!" Sully sat up and snatched it out of Nate's hand. "I don't suppose you know the proper protocol when it comes to returning underwear after a couple weeks, huh?"

The kid wasn't sure if that was a rhetorical question or not, but he answered with a resounding "No." all the same. Then, against his better judgment, he started to think about the question until his mind settled on the 'couple weeks' detail. He was fairly certain he'd been around whenever Sully was during that timeframe, which meant he'd probably also been around when Sully had been entertaining naked company in the middle of the living room. Nate honestly didn't give a shit what Sully did behind closed doors, but the living room? Where he could wander in at any moment? He shuddered at the thought.

"Um. Where the hell was I when this was happening?"

Sully appeared to think about it. "Well, you're usually safely tucked away in bed during the wee hours of the morning, so that would be my guess."

"Not always!" Nate cried. "What if I'd gotten up to get a snack?! I do that sometimes, you know! Does this happen a lot? No wait – don't answer that. I don't wanna know. Should I just lock myself in my room until the sun comes up? Am I even safe when the sun is up? I'm not, am I? Oh my God, Sullivan!" He stopped his panicked stream of consciousness when he realized that his mentor was chuckling instead of taking his concerns seriously. "What the hell is wrong with you? I sit on that couch sometimes!"

"You also eat at the kitchen table," Sully felt it necessary to add as he nonchalantly tossed the undergarment onto the coffee table.

"Sully!" Nate yelped reproachfully. "What surfaces haven't you defiled?"

"I'd write you a list, but it'd be pretty short."

Nate's lips curled in disgust. "God, you have no shame, do you?"

Sully was about to proudly own up to the accusation, but for some reason Nate's use of the words 'God' and 'shame' in the same sentence struck him with an unexpected thought about the kid's Catholic upbringing and his squeamish reaction to sex. He tilted his head in the boy's direction and voiced the thought aloud.

"Holy shit. I bet the nuns never gave you The Talk." The panic-stricken look that immediately sprung to Nate's face was enough to make Sully laugh outright, but he cringed when doing so reminded him of his current affliction. "Ow. Please don't make me laugh."

"Nothing is funny," Nate informed him without blinking.

"You are. Do me a favor and never grow up. Your whole embarrassed-about-sex thing is kind of adorable."

"I am not embarrassed about it," Nate insisted, but Sully knew better because he couldn't even bring himself to say the word. "I just don't wanna talk about it with you. It'd be like talking about it with somebody's perverted dad."

Sully was touched by the latter part of that characterization, but he was careful not to let it show because the kid looked embarrassed about saying it. "Well, good, 'cause that's kinda the point." He was Nate's resident adult, after all, and that made it his responsibility to make sure the kid knew everything he needed in order to safely navigate into adulthood. "'Sides. Getting The Talk is a rite of passage. You missed out."

"Someone sat you down and gave you The Talk?"

"Hell no." Sully snorted at the absurdity of the suggestion. His sex education had mostly consisted of uninformed hearsay during recess because Lord knew Mr. Sullivan couldn't have been bothered to invest that much interest into his son. "And I think you can see exactly how that turned out," he added, gesturing toward the incriminating purple underwear.

"Well, I guarantee I don't need it. I know what does what, and what goes where, and– " Nate stopped listing knowledge when he realized he was getting laughed at again. "Sully. Please don't do this to me," he begged.

"Oh, relax. I'm sure you know exactly how everything works by now." Nate turned bright red at the insinuation. "There are just a few things every young man needs to hear."

"No offense, but that's not reassuring coming from you."

"A fair point, but this has nothing to do with me." Sully paused as he reconsidered that statement. "Actually, scratch that. It does. But not like you're thinking."

"And reminding you about your hangover isn't going to make you stop talking?"

"Sorry, pal."

Nate buried his face in his hands. "Okay, fine," he groaned. "Just get it over with."

Sully was glad Nate wasn't looking at him because now that he had the permission to proceed, he had absolutely no idea what to say. He hadn't exactly expected to be the one to fill some sort of parental role in a kid's life, so he'd never bothered to plan out any important life lessons worth passing on. As far as ill-conceived decisions went this one was probably at the top of the list, but he figured there was no turning back now that he'd insisted.

"Alright, look." Sully rubbed his forehead. "I know I'm the last person qualified to tell you to wait, so I'm not even gonna try. Sure, I'd prefer if you didn't rush into anything, but you're old enough to make that call for yourself. I just want to make sure you go into it at least a little prepared."

Nate lifted his face from his hands to eye the man worriedly.

"So why don't we get obvious out of the way first?" Sully continued with a reassuring smile. "Whatever you decide to do, always wear a goddamn condom. Unless, of course, you really wanna put your little friend at risk, or worse – get some poor girl pregnant. I honestly can't stress this enough. Hell, I'll even leave you a stash under the sink if it'll help. Sex might seem all fun and games – especially when you're young and just figuring things out – but it comes with a lot of responsibility too. You gotta remember that it's not just your life you could ruin by being reckless."

Nate frowned. "Don't worry. I know better than to risk a kid I didn't want." The bitter way he said it gave Sully the impression that the topic had just gotten personal.

"Well, that's a relief 'cause I don't think I could handle any of your spawn running around. One of you is stressful enough," he joked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from anything sensitive. When Nate rewarded him with a weak smile, he went on. "And while we're on the subject of sex not just being about you, don't you dare be one of those guys who can't take a hint. You best learn now that nobody is obligated to sleep with you. Believe me. You'll see plenty more action if you don't act like a complete asshole all the time. And by the same token, don't let anyone pressure you into anything you don't wanna do either. 'No means no' works both ways. I don't give a shit if it's peer pressure or the most attractive girl in the world. If you don't feel safe or comfortable, leave. Simple as that. Don't ever let anyone make you feel like less of a man for walking away."

"Do you ever walk away?"

Sully smirked. "And that's another thing. I'm not exactly a bright and shining example, so don't think you need to be like me or that I'll think any less of you if you aren't. It's your life and that means you get to decide how you wanna live it. I don't care if you sleep around or if one's enough for you – I'll respect your decision either way. Just be responsible, treat people right, and make sure you're doing it because you want to. And believe it or not, kid, there's no rush. You're allowed to grow up at your own pace. Nothing's wrong with enjoying being young and innocent while it lasts. I recommend it, but - like I said - you're old enough to make that call for yourself. Just remember if you ever get in a situation where you need to escape from a bad hookup, all you have to do is call me. I'll swoop right in yelling that you forgot your ointment. That'll do the trick."

The teen made a face. "Note to self: don't call Sully."

"I'm being serious, Nate. I don't care what time it is or where you are. You can always ask me for help if you get into trouble or have any questions. And that goes for anything." Sully gave the kid a pointed look. "I mean it."

Nate ducked his head, appreciating the sentiment more than he could say. After years of dealing with things on his own, it was nice to know that somebody had his back. "Thanks, Sully."

"Sure thing, bud. And I guess while I'm giving essential life advice – no hard drugs, and if I ever catch you drinking and driving, I'll lock you in the attic until you're thirty. We clear?" Sully pretended to be stern, but his heart wasn't in it. Nate was a good kid – especially compared to him at fifteen – and he had a feeling he didn't have to worry about him too much. All the same, he made a mental note to knock on wood the next time he didn't have an audience to call him crazy.

"Yessir." Nate touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.

Sullivan studied the teen's face for a moment before grinning and reaching out to ruffle his shaggy hair. "Alright, kid. Good talk."

"Whoa, wait. That was it?"

"What? Did you think I was gonna give you tips? Dig out the ol' diagrams?" Sully teased, prompting the boy to give him a look that said he wouldn't put it past him. "Sorry, son. Even I draw the line somewhere. There are some things you're just gonna have to learn for yourself."

Nate was so relieved that he didn't notice what Sully called him. "Thank God."

"Now," the man continued as he got himself comfortable again. "This ball game isn't improving any. If you're finally done stalling, why don't you get off your ass and find me that goddamn remote?"

Nate narrowed his eyes. "If I find somebody's long-lost vibrator, I swear to God I'm never helping you look for anything again." He laughed when the ensuing guffaw turned into a pained whimper.

"Ouch. Shit. You are killin' me, kid."

A/N – Hello there! Thanks for taking the time to read my little story! I've got a few more ideas where this came from, but updates will probably be slow at best. In the meantime, though, feel free to let me know what you thought! I'm a bit rusty, so feedback is always welcome. Oh! And I own nothing except my grammar mistakes and my unhealthy obsession with Victor Sullivan. Please don't sue me, Naughty Dog!