theoldguardkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theoldguardkinkmeme) wrote2020-07-22 10:07 am
theoldguardkinkmeme) wrote2020-07-22 10:07 am
Fills Post
This Fills Post is now closed to new fills. New fills should go in Fills Post #2.
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FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 11:11 am (UTC)(link)Thanks for the lovely prompt nonnie
~~~
“What the fuck,” is what Joe first says when he sees the webpage load.
Congratulations on your marriage! It reads in big, cursive red letters. A gif of champagne popping and flower petals falling plays below it.
Your beloved’s name is:
Nicolò di Genova
Gender: Male
Age: 30
Place of Birth: Genoa, Italy
“There’s no fucking way,” Joe whispers to himself as he scrolls down the page of information on his match. His eyes stick on Religion: Catholic, and then Occupation: priest and bug out. “What the fuck,” he says again, with feeling, “what the fuck?”
At the bottom of the page is a profile picture of a man. Pale skin, dark hair, dressed in black clothing with a white clerical collar at his throat. A small, morose smile lingers on his mouth. He’s nothing like what Joe was picturing when he’d filled out his preferences; fit, tanned, preferably long haired with a pretty smile. Gender doesn’t matter to Joe, and not really looks, either, but this isn’t—this isn’t what he was expecting at all. Least of all Catholic? Sure, Joe wouldn’t say he’s exactly a practising Muslim, but he still eats halal and attends the local mosque with his family from time to time. But Catholics and Muslims can totally marry, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Just, a Catholic priest? Didn’t they think homosexuality was a sin? Could they even get married?
Still reeling, he gets up from his desk and does a round of his room. Sits back down, refreshes the page, and groans when he sees the exact same information display.
He picks up his phone and punches in the number for the helpline. It rings as he rests it against his ear, and he refreshes the page again while he waits, just in case.
The phone picks up. “Welcome to Soulmatch! My name is Nina, how may I help you?”
“There has to have been some kind of mistake,” he says quickly.
“I’m sorry?”
Joe winces. “Sorry, my name is Joe al-Kaysani. I paid for a marriage match on the website? But there’s been some kind of mistake. I’ve been matched with the wrong person.”
Nina laughs. “The algorithm does not make mistakes, Mr al-Kaysani.”
“Well, it did this time,” Joe says, staring at the profile pic of the bloody Catholic priest he’s been matched with. “He’s Catholic! They think being gay is a sin! We can’t be married!”
“Everything will work out, Mr al-Kaysani,” Nina reassures, sounding very indulgent. “Trust in the algorithm. The algorithm is never wrong. All hail the algorithm.”
Joe hangs up, disgusted.
~~~
It says, right in the contract he signed when he paid for this cursed website, that there are no refunds, no take-backs, no second matches if you aren’t happy with the first. Joe’s stuck with this Nicolò di Genova from Genoa Italy, when he arrives a week later. He rings the helpline again, gets basically the same thing that he got from that Nina lady, scrolls through every page of the website and only finds one thing in the tiniest text at the bottom of a page Joe isn’t even sure how he got to: if you are truly unhappy after one year, you are able to file for a divorce through the site, and you will be refunded your money in full.
One year, Joe thinks, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. One, full, year married to this guy. Allah, why did he ever think this was a good idea?
Damn you, Aunt Zara, for telling me the website works, he thinks, angrily rolling over onto his side. Damn you, shitty, sad, dating life. Damn you, all my happily in love friends. And damn you, Nicolò di Genova, for signing up for that hellish website as well.
He punches his pillow a couple of times and slams his head back down on it. He gets to sleep at around four am, and wakes just as, if more, grumpy.
~~~
By the end of the week, his anger at the unfairness of it all has faded into some sort of ashamed resignation. He knew what he was signing up for at the start. It’s his fault that he’s in this mess in the first place. He’s just going to have to suck it up, tell Nicolò di Genova when he arrives that he’s sorry, but they’re going to have to wait the year out to get a divorce. Surely, the man doesn’t want to be married to him either, right?
And then, Sunday comes. The day of his new husband’s arrival. Joe quickly makes up the spare room guiltily (he may have been putting it off), moves out all his art supplies and half finished works he’d been keeping in there into his studio, and cleans his house haphazardly. He’s not going to be able to hide his bad habits for long, he reasons, so there’s no point in making everything dust free and sparkling for the other man’s arrival. They’re going to be living together for a year, after all. He’s sure he’s going to have to put up with some bad habits as well.
And at 12 o’clock on the dot, there’s a quiet knock on his front door. For a second Joe considers just not answering it, hiding in his bedroom and pretending he’s not home until the person knocking gives up, but then he sighs. There’s no use in postponing this.
He strides up to his door and opens it with what he hopes is a friendly smile.
The man standing on his doorstep looks vastly different from the photo that Joe had been provided on the website. His hair is longer and messier, brushed behind his ears, both of which sparkle at the lobes with little silver earrings. The angle the photo had been taken at had hidden how broad his shoulders are, how slim his waist is, and the washed out colours had completely betrayed the pinkness of his lips, the bright sea-storm of his eyes. Instead of a morose little smile his mouth curves gently with a shy half grin, and gone is his stiff black clothing and clerical collar, replaced with a casual dark t-shirt and jeans.
“Hello,” he says with a lilting Italian accent, voice soft. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Nicolò, but everyone calls me Nicky.”
“Yeah,” Joe says. “Yeah. Uh. I’m Joe. Come in.”
~~~
They sit at Joe’s kitchen table, two mugs of coffee steaming in front of them. Nicolò has his hands clasped on the table, and something about that makes Joe kind of annoyed.
“Look,” Joe says suddenly, “uh, I’m sure that this whole situation is weird to you too—”
Nicolò—Nicky, shifts, looking like he wants to say something, but Joe barrels onwards.
“—because there’s been some mistake, we definitely aren’t each other’s ideal choice in partner, but we only need to be roommates for a year, right, and then we can get our money back when we file for divorce. So it’s no big deal. I’ll stay outta your way if you want it, there’s a spare room for you down the hall—”
“...Divorce?” Nicky asks quietly, his eyes big and blue-grey. The knuckles of his clasped hands have whitened.
Joe winces. “Uh, the Catholic Church is okay with divorce, right?” It’s gonna make it a lot harder if Nicky doesn’t believe in annulling a marriage. Joe should’ve researched more...
“It’s allowed.”
Joe lets out a breath. “Right. But you know, we don’t have to tiptoe around. We’re probably gonna see a lot of each other so, uh, we could be friends?”
“Friends,” Nicky says slowly, and Joe’s starting to think maybe Nicky isn’t going to be a great conversationalist.
“I mean, we don’t have to—”
“—No, no,” Nicky interrupts, and there’s something shadowed in his expression, but it quickly fades under a small smile. “I would like to be friends.”
Joe lets out another breath. “That’s awesome. Great. Friends. So, uh, I’ll show you to your room. Come on.” He gets up out of the chair, and before Nicky can grab his suitcase next to the door, Joe gets it for him. “It’s just down here.”
~~~
“I’ll let you settle in,” Joe says, smiling awkwardly in the doorway. “Did you want me to shut the door?”
“Yes, thank you,” Nicky says, proud when his voice doesn’t waver.
“Uh, when you’re ready, come on out and I’ll give you the grand tour,” Joe offers, and then closes the door with a quiet click.
Nicky sinks down onto the double bed and looks around the room. It’s decently sized, bigger than his bedroom in his old rectory, with a window that looks out over the small but well maintained backyard. There’s a bookshelf, half filled with a few books that look like they’re college textbooks, and a set of drawers. Next to the bed is a nightstand, with a lamp. On the wall is a painting of a beautiful young woman, and if Nicky wasn’t feeling so shaky, he would’ve gotten up to inspect the masterful brushstrokes and lovely use of colour.
But instead he clasps his hands together on his knees and leans over them, hastily brushing away a tear with his knuckle as it leaks from under his eyelid.
It had hurt, when Joe had said that Nicky hadn’t been what he’d wanted, but something inside Nicky had been expecting it as soon as he’d seen Joe’s profile picture on the website. He’d been immediately captivated by his warm dark eyes, his wild curls contained by a backwards cap, his thick beard and wide, friendly smile that reminded Nicky of midsummer sunshine. Someone as handsome and lovely as Joe, matched with him? Surely there had been a mistake.
He inhales shakily, holding the breath in, before forcefully exhaling as slow as he can manage. He’d used the website as a last resort. He’d been terribly lonely, after he’d left the priesthood. His family wanted nothing to do with him, and neither did the church, or the few friends he’d made there. Nicky wasn’t particularly talkative, so making friends didn’t come easily to him, and since he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do making a living just yet, he didn’t even have work colleagues to rely on as company. Dating was something he wasn’t naturally good at and had no experience in, and as soon as men heard that he was an ex-Catholic priest, they immediately weren’t interested. Way too many issues to sort out there for just a quick fuck, one of his more memorable dates had said. He’d seen the add for the website in the newspaper one day, and had looked it up, doubtful, but curious. And then he’d seen the glowing reviews and happy couples, and he’d—he’d just been so lonely.
He’d signed up right away. Did the paperwork, paid the fee, filled out the questionnaire, said he was willing to move to meet his match (there was nothing keeping him anchored here), and uploaded the only photo he’d had of himself from the seminary website. And then he’d waited. It had only taken a few days before he’d gotten an email saying that his match had been found, and he was now officially married. He’d been so happy. Someone who Nicky was perfect for, and someone who was perfect for Nicky. Someone who he could love, and be loved in return.
Of course it was too good to be true. It’s understandable that Joe took one look at him and knew that Nicky wasn’t for him. Nicky has never been easy to love.
Sniffing, he brushes away another tear and sits up, staring at the cheery yellow ceiling. Friends, Joe had said, smiling openly. Nicky should be glad for just that. He’s lucky that Joe could look past the mistake that had been made and welcome him into his home with open arms. Nicky hopes that when the year is up, they’ll still be friends. It would be nice, to have one.
Taking a deep breath, he dries his eyes with his sleeves, and forces himself to smile. There’s no point in wallowing. He’s happy, he really is, to have met Joe.
Friends, he thinks, and his smile turns more genuine.
Yes, that sounds very nice indeed.
Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 11:21 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
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(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 11:33 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
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(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 11:35 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 11:47 am (UTC)(link)OP
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(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 05:22 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 07:37 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-21 08:33 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-22 01:00 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-22 01:20 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-22 02:19 am (UTC)(link)Also poor Nicky! The angst of it all!
Also love that Joe's profile pick is of the backwards baseball hat. XD And that Nicky IRL is like dashingly handsome compared to his sad!priest photo.
Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-22 04:18 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-22 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-23 01:55 am (UTC)(link)All hail the algorithm and all hail the start of this fic! What can we do for an update? Do you want a limb, my child, an organ? ANYTHING.
Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
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(Anonymous) 2020-09-23 04:06 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-23 08:45 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-23 09:49 am (UTC)(link)Hey Nonnie, how does it feel to have the most commented on fic on this meme?
Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [1/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-23 13:23 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [2a/?]
(Anonymous) 2020-09-23 01:17 pm (UTC)(link)(guys i finally figured out how to convert a google doc into html so hopefully my formating woes are over. also this part turned out like only 700 words longer than the word limit so i had to split it in two soz. also, i am living for everyone's comments thank you so much!!!)
~~~
“You painted all of these?” Nicky asks quietly, eyes roving over the multitude of canvases leant up against Joe’s home studio walls. Joe finds him exceptionally hard to read; mostly Nicky is straight faced, except for those small little half smiles that linger on his lips sometimes.
Joe coughs into his fist. “Yeah. I’m an artist. You didn’t read it on my profile?”
Nicky looks at him for a split second before looking back at his paintings. “I did,” he says simply. “You are—very talented.” He steps forward, reaching out to one of Joe’s works that is sitting on an easel. His fingers however don’t touch the oil paint, and instead flutter over it, before dropping away. “This is beautiful.”
“It’s not finished yet,” Joe says. “Well, it’s meant to be, but the damn thing is fighting me tooth and nail. I just can’t get the shadows right—and the colours are all wrong, and the composition could be better—”
“I’m sure, when you finish it, it will be perfect,” Nicky says. “Just like everything else in here.”
Joe rubs the back of his head, both pleased and embarrassed at the easy sincerity in Nicky’s voice. “Hey, no need to butter me up. We’re already married.”
Nicky steps back from the easel, looking at Joe with his fathomless seafoam gaze. “Yes, we are,” he says softly, and then looks to his feet. Somehow, Joe feels like he’s said something wrong. He’s not quite sure what though, but before he can say something Nicky is once again talking.
“I won’t be distracting you?” Nicky asks, looking back up to inspect some drawings pinned to the wall. His tone of voice is once again level, like the dip before had never happened. Maybe Joe had been mistaken.
“Distracting me? Oh, uh, not unless you play dubstep at eardrum shattering levels at 2 in the morning.”
There’s that small curl of Nicky’s lips. The beauty spot to the side of them, Joe finds, is a little distracting. “I will try not to.”
“Awesome. That’s all I ask. Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the house.”
~~~
Joe is very, very talented, Nicky observes. He’d seen all the art hung on the walls in Joe’s house, but it wasn’t until Joe had showed him his home studio that it’d clicked. He’d known Joe was an artist from his profile, but he hadn’t looked him up online, wanting to get to know his husband organically. He hadn’t been sure what kind of artist, but now he can see Joe paints with oils, sketches with pencil and dabbles with charcoal. His renderings are breathtaking, and Nicky can see and almost feel the emotions Joe has laid into his art with every stroke of his brush or pencil.
Nicky feels intensely guilty about invading Joe’s space now; Joe needs to concentrate, he doesn’t need a strange man hanging around his house and annoying him while he’s creating something as beautiful as his art. Nicky resolves to be as quiet and as helpful as he can, to make up for his presence. He’ll be as perfect a spouse—friend, as he can be.
After Joe finishes his quick tour of his house, they both pause in the hallway. Nicky feels how painfully awkward the silence between them is, and internally winces. He wishes he was better at conversation, and Joe is obviously trying very hard, but Nicky is nervous, and tongue-tied. He doesn’t know what to say to such an amazing, gorgeous man. He feels suddenly, infinitely inferior. How did the algorithm ever match them together? There must’ve been a very bad error.
Joe shifts on his feet, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them. “So, uh, make yourself at home. Me casa su casa. Feel free to watch tv and use my Netflix and Amazon Prime. Raid my fridge. Go hard.”
“Thank you very much,” Nicky says, inadequately.
“I’m just gonna—” Joe points back to his studio, “I’ve got a gallery showing coming up and I really gotta light a fire under my ass otherwise Andy is gonna light it for me. If you need anything, just knock.”
Nicky nods, disappointed that they aren’t going to spend any more time together immediately, but also a little relieved. It’s hard being around the other man; he’s just so attractive, with his thick black curls and bright, kind eyes, that Nicky has to fight the urge to stare constantly. He doesn’t think Joe would appreciate him ogling him, when he only wants them to be friends. Some time apart will be good for him to gather his wits.
He watches Joe retreat to his studio, and then looks around, already feeling a little lost.
~~~
Joe tries hard not to feel too guilty about hiding away in his studio. He does have a gallery showing coming up, but not for a few good weeks. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, however, to get a head start. He just doesn’t really want to think about the stranger now living in his home. The very Catholic priest stranger. It’s just—so awkward.
He sighs, pulling up his stool in front of his easel. He eyes the canvas critically, finds at least six things he needs to fix, and gets to work.
Hours later, he blinks out of his work-trance to find his painting in much better condition. He realises what had interrupted him; his stomach is growling. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Standing, he stretches out his back, quickly cleans his paint brushes, and ventures out into the hallway.
Something smells amazing. Joe follows his nose into the kitchen to find Nicky at the stove, stirring a pot.
“Hey,” Joe greets, curious.
Nicky looks over his shoulder. “I’m making dinner,” he explains, “if that’s not too forward..?”
“Oh, no, that’s cool. You didn’t have to.”
Nicky looks back at what he’s doing, hiding his face from Joe. “I wanted to,” the other man says. “It’s just simple pasta, nothing amazing. It won’t be longer than a few minutes, if you wanted to sit?”
Joe does, breathing in the scent of the simple pasta Nicky is cooking. Nothing amazing, his ass. It smells fantastic.
And it is fantastic. Joe doesn’t know how Nicky makes spaghetti with tomato sauce and dried herbs taste like this, but it must be some kind of witchcraft. Do all Catholic priests cook like this? Because if so, Joe might just think about converting.
“That was really good,” Joe says, after he’s eaten his entire plate probably embarrassingly quickly. “Thank you, really, Nicky. It’s been ages since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. I’m not much of a cook, ha. To be honest, I order take out most nights, or live off ramen. If you ever get the itch to cook again, please, go for it.”
Across from him, Nicky ducks his head, pleased. Joe momentarily gets caught up in the pink flush that blooms across Nicky’s cheeks, the way he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, that small, gentle half smile that graces his lips. And then he forces himself to look away, because checking out a Catholic priest? Kind of weird. Probably a sin, or something.
“It was nothing,” Nicky murmurs.
Joe gets up to gather their dishes, but suddenly Nicky is up out of his seat and has everything stacked up before he can blink, heading to the sink.
“Hey, you cooked,” Joe says, “it’s only fair that I clean.”
Nicky only shakes his head, running the tap already. “It’s the least I can do, after you’ve welcomed me into your home.”
Joe could fight more, but he kind of really hates doing the dishes, and if Nicky says he wants to, he’s not going to try too hard to change his mind. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
~~~
Re: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [2b/?]
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(Anonymous) - 2020-09-26 02:27 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [3b/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-26 06:42 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [3b/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-26 08:50 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [3b/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-26 09:04 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [3b/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-26 21:37 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [3b/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-27 19:14 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [4/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-28 11:11 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [4/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-28 11:12 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [2a/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-24 15:03 (UTC) - ExpandRe: FILL: All Hail The Algorithm, Joe/Nicky - modern arranged marriage [2a/?]
(Anonymous) - 2020-09-24 22:58 (UTC) - Expand