A/N: I feel that there isn't enough Hodges/Sanders love out there, at least not much that's not a one-shot. So I thought this would be a nice change of pace to writing my own series.

Summary: Greg asks David to fly to Norway with him for the funeral of a family member. But David hates the cold, and more than that he hates being the subject of gossip – in a language he doesn't understand. But he endures all of this, and more, for Greg.

Chapter 1: If I Had A Heart

David Rolled over with a groan and tapped his alarm clock. Well, tapped might be the wrong verb – smashed would be a bit more appropriate. Greg just never understood why Hodges still had an alarm clock when he had a perfectly good iPhone.

'Because my phone warranty doesn't cover groggily cracked screens on a daily basis,' he'd said.

Greg, of course, just laughed it off as 'cute'. But that was Greg for you; good, kind, optimistic and his flatulence smelled like freshly cut spring flowers. Well, the last part of that may or may not be exaggerated, but Greg Sanders was a saint – sickeningly at times. But David wasn't above admitting that Greg's sainthood was a rather large contribution to what kept him in the back of his mind at every hour of every day. You see, David loved Greg Sanders. He was madly and irrevocably in love with Greg. It had taken a long time to get to this point.

There was only one problem; David hadn't actually told Greg the big 'L' word. He'd tried to on several occasions – during romantic dinners, movies, long drives in the desert, birthday outings – but whenever the moment would come, after spending five minutes building up to the moment via a carefully drafted speech, David's tongue with curl into his throat and his jaw would seem to tense taut like a stone. And then he would simply smile and wait for Greg to smile back, because the moment had ended.

David tried to get over the hump, and he certainly couldn't figure out just what was holding him back. He knew that he loved Greg, which was never a questionable subject in his mind. But when it came time to put all of his admirations and adorations into that one symbolic word, well…

Still, despite his failures to vocalize his undying devotion for his younger lover, there was nothing that David wouldn't do to for him. That's what had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Norway. Who the hell wants to go to Norway? Not David.

'This has been really difficult for me to handle, and I don't think that I can go all the way there without my foundation of support,' Greg said.

Death. Of course death was difficult to handle. But when David saw those deep mahogany brown eyes looking up into his, saying his name this that vulnerable side of his voice, and stroking his ego by calling him the 'foundation' of his support… Greg knew that David's weakness was his ego – everyone did. And he just couldn't say no after a play like that. But when it came to Greg, it wasn't a ploy, it was sincere. And that's what made David feel even worse about the mere thought of saying no.

'Of course I'll come with you,' David said.

And that's exactly how he'd gotten roped into this mess. David popped an eye open and looked at the fresh passport lying on the bedside table. The late afternoon sun was low on the western horizon, dust motes swirling in the slivers of light from the blinds. David rolled over and felt the empty space where Greg had been only hours before. Greg said that he had some last-minute errands to take care of before their trip. Still, it would've made David feel a little better to wake up to Greg's post-hibernation antics. Primarily, Greg's absolute need to snuggle after a night of passion.

But David was alone today, and he would be alone tonight when he had to face Catherine. One would assume that, after regaining the promotion she'd been reaching after for twenty years she would be ecstatic. Oh, but one would be wrong, wouldn't one? Catherine had been a bit of a hard-ass over the past two months, and no one could seem to explain it. And now David had to tell her that he, too, would also need a week off. But his challenge only got harder. Greg had a legitimate reason to take a week off – Grievance. But David had to convince her that he needed a week off with an excuse. The worst part: he hadn't even come up with one. At least, not a convincing one.

'Just tell her the truth,' Greg said.

'If I tell her I'm going with you to Norway for a family member's funeral, she's going to ask questions. If she asks questions, I'm going to have to lie to her about us – and you know Catherine, she'd got the intuition of a bloodhound.'

'Then let's tell her about us,' Greg said.

'Like a ravenous bloodhound,' Davis said. 'Like a ravenous, hungry, bloodthirsty hound from hell – an angry, ravenous, beast from hell.'

'David, are you even listening?'

David snapped out of his reverie, right back into those death-trap eyes. Once locked on, he couldn't escape them.

'It's okay to tell her about us,' Greg said.

'Greg, I thought we'd agreed that we value our privacy too much.'

'No, you value your privacy too much. If you recall, I wanted to tell everyone at work because they're our family, and you convinced me that it would be better to leave things as they were. I wanted to move in together, but you wanted to keep your apartment. But it's been over a year now, and I'm not happy anymore,' Greg said.

'You're… You're not happy?' David asked. His heart had lodged itself in his throat. He could still remember the numbing adrenaline fill his extremities with dread. "Are you… saying what I think you're saying?'

'What?' Greg asked, completely innocently until a thought flashed behind his eyes like lightning. 'Oh! Oh, God, no, David. That's not what I meant – I'm completely happy with you, I can't imagine not being with you. What I meant is that I need to know that there's some semblance of direction and maturity to what we have. I'm not happy just sneaking around anymore.'

'No, I guess you wouldn't be,' David said. He'd been expecting this. He didn't exactly like it, but he'd been expecting it. And hearing that his insecurities was affecting Greg translated to David failing him. Greg was unhappy because of David and that made David feel small – incredibly small. 'Greg, I'm really sorry. I didn't know that you felt this way.'

'That's why I'm telling you now,' Greg said. 'I want you to tell me if there's a reason that you don't want people to know that you're with me.'

'I told you about my childhood,' David said in a low, quiet tone.

'I know about the bullying, I understand that. But this goes deeper than gay-bashing,' Greg said. 'This is specific to us, I know it.'

'Greg, it's got nothing to do with you. I just don't feel comfortable knowing that the people you've come to trust could turn on you because you've made the decision to get serious.'

'With another guy?' Greg asked incredulously.

'With… me,' David said.

Greg tilted his head, mind completely lost in fog at that comment. David could see that he didn't fully understand where he was coming from, so he decided to elaborate on that point after a long, heavy sigh.

'I'm not exactly Mr. Popular, Greg. Half of the people I don't annoy with my genius –'

'Arrogance,' Greg corrected with a wry smirk.

'Half of the people I don't annoy with my arrogance still terrorize me for being 'different'. I'm a lab rat. You're a field mouse, now,' David said.

Greg laughed, much to David's disbelief and dismay.

'That is the worst defense case that I've ever heard. Most of it can't even be supported,' Greg said. And then Greg took the upper hand – the sneaky bastard – by taking David's hands into his and pressing his warm body against his. And his scent filled David's particularly sensitive nose with its musky pheromones and soft fragrances. 'What's really going on here, David?'

'Well, there's that, uh… Small detail about, uh… You and me, and a certain gap…'

'That's it?' Greg asked with a smirk. 'You're worried about what people will think about the age difference?'

'No, I'm terrified. Worried would imply that I think people would consider it 'just an age difference' whereas I'm concerned that people will write Cradle Robber on my locker.'

'I didn't even know that it was an issue,' Greg said, taking a step back. David reached out, not willing to lose his touch.

'It's not an issue – not with me,' David said. 'But we don't exactly work with people who mind their own business.'

'We are their business,' Greg said. David rolled his eyes, and that's when Greg had apparently had enough. He pulled his hands out of David's slender fingers and grabbed his keys off of the coffee table.

'Where are you going?'

'Look, I'm not going to force you to tell Catherine the truth about us, that's your business,' Greg said. 'But if you cared about me, you'd understand just how important it is for me to be open and honest with my team. And if you care about yourself, you wouldn't let them get in the way of us.'

David watched Greg walk out the door. He came back only two hours later to apologize and make up – with raunchy make up sex, of course – but it still lingered with him. David had to face Catherine today, and he still hadn't decided what he was going to tell her – fact or fiction.

Maybe Greg was right, and coming out to Catherine would be the right decision? Maybe Catherine would go all Mama-Bear over her young friend and sink her teeth into David for corrupting and invading her pseudo baby-brother. David was forty-six years old; Greg was thirty-five. If that didn't look odd to his crime lab team then David didn't know his investigators well. The problem was that he did know them well, and could anticipate their reactions as surely as the sun would rise.

Greg was well-protected and loved. David didn't want to risk that.

He rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes. He scratched his chest and glanced over his shoulder at a few throbbing lines running pink down his pale flesh. Scratch marks; never got tired of them. He smiled to himself as he recalled exactly how he'd got them, and the thought of bragging to the lab that he'd snagged a hot little number like Greg seemed, for just a brief moment, a little less foreboding. Then he thought of the hurricane of 'good old fashioned southern morals' that would blow in his face from Nick. And of course, Catherine would console Nick, leaving Greg feeling left out. And Sarah, shocked, would walk off silently to process what she'd just learned – and call Gil – leaving Greg feeling worse. And by the end of it all, Greg would be miserable and David would become the department pariah. At least, that's how it always ended in his projections, give or take a few embellishments.

So there he was, showered and shaved, standing in the doorway of Catherine's office and tossing over every possible outcome in the palms of his hands. David was dead silent as he stood there and it was a few minutes before Catherine finally looked up from her computer to give her eyes a break. She gasped, only slightly, and then steeled herself again.

"You're like a ghost, Hodges," Catherine said.

"Yeah – call me Casper the friendly Voyeur," Davis said with a faux-chuckle – which didn't exactly win Catherine over.

"Did you need something?" Catherine asked.

"I, uh, have the results from that soil sample in the case. The soil tested positive for major nuclear contamination," David said as he handed Catherine his result sheet. She glanced over the sheet and lifted her brows with mild surprise.

"Way too high to be from a soil nuclear density test," Catherine said.

"Which means that our vic was probably killed on the Test Site near Lincoln. Oh, and once I told Sarah about the findings she confirmed that there is a missing girl from Lincoln matching our vic's age and description names Elisabeth Harnois"

"And then the killer brought her body to Vegas," Catherine said. She took off her glasses and lifted the corners of her mouth into her little smirk of praise. "Good work, Hodges, you just gave us the first big lead in two days."

David made a little bow and a sarcastic salute before straightening out his jacket and shoving his hands into his pockets. He lingered in the doorway, rocking back and forth on his feet with a complacent smile – the friendliest he could muster – and took deep breaths.

"I can't help but get the feeling that there's something else on your mind; call it women's intuition," Catherine said dryly.

"It's just that I, uh, need time off," David said.

"How much time?"

"A week."

Catherine didn't look as amused as he'd hoped she would.

"You are aware that I'm going to be one investigator short in three days," Catherine said.

"Right, Greg told me about his grandfather passing. My condolences," David said.

"And when do you need this time off?"

"In… three days…"

Catherine barked a laugh.

"Do tell: what is so important that you need a week off?" She asked.

"It's a medical emergency," David said. "I have… a… rash."

"A rash?" Catherine asked.

"I have allergies," David said with a shrug.

"What kind of allergies?"

"I have a bowel disorder," David said. "It's getting really messy – I need to fly to a specialist in Los Angeles."

"Hodges, I don't have time for your squirrelly routine right now – are you going to tell me what's really going on or should I just tell you no right now?"

"As in you're willing to give me time off provided the reason is legit?" He asked out of curiosity. Catherine glared for a moment before waving him off and returning to her computer. "Okay-okay-okay! Just… hold on."

David glanced around the lab and discreetly closed her office door. She looked him from the ground up, a bit surprised, but crossed her arms and fell silent to listen.

"My time off… it kind of involves Greg," David said. He sat down in the thinly framed chair in front of her desk, placing his hands in his lap and hanging his head like a little boy. "Greg asked me to go with him to Norway for support, and I said yes."

Catherine tapped a pen on the desk, drawing his attention up to her. She was hunched over a document and making her way down, signing initials here and signatures there.

"Catherine?" David asked. She looked up suddenly. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah," Catherine said. "You can go, that's fine."

"Just like that?" David asked. She may as well have just levitated three feet off of the ground and sprouted white feathery wings, for all the kindness he just saw her – the very shocking kindness.

"Just like that," Catherine said. She even winked.

David rose out of his feet, a bit stunned. He shuffled to the door, so dumbfounded that he literally stopped, scratched his head, and turned, sputtering until he could use his words.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He asked.

"I'm not," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm looking out for Sanders."

David nodded silently and turned to the door. His fingers lightly brushed the cold metal when he heard Catherine sigh.

"He's sweet on you, you know," she said.

David glanced at her, gripping the handle firmly.

"Greg; he's sweet on you like chocolate over peanut butter," Catherine said.

"Y-yeah, I know," David said. In an uncharacteristic moment of humility, David blushed and faced her, vulnerable under this observation she'd made. "I know he is."

"I wish he wasn't, but he is. I don't mean that in a bad way, it's nothing against you. But you have to see how many ways this will complicate things for him, for the both of you," she said.

David sat down in the chair again, once again the smallest man in the world. "I know."

"I'm sure you do. But Sanders is a little more… romantic than you and I: he's an idealist, whereas we're practical. That makes him more susceptible to pain and humiliation."

"I know that," David said, a bit of snap from his teeth even threw Catherine off for a moment. "I think about it all the time."

"I'm sure you do, Hodges. And I'm sure that you treat him like a prince. Hell, he's probably seen twenty sides of you that none of us have seen, otherwise I can't imagine what he'd see in you," Catherine said. "I know that whatever you two have going on between you isn't my business. But I have a soft spot for the kid, so I would feel a lot more comfortable knowing that you have his best interests at heart."

David opened his mouth, ready to immediately assure her that Greg's wants and needs mattered to him as much as his own, if not more. But his mouth sagged down into a slight frown, and his eyes fell to the desk.

"He wants to be able to tell everyone about us," David said. "He's been asking me for months. He says he's so proud of me that he would feel like the luckiest man in this precinct if he could walk into work holding my hand just once. His words, verbatim."

"And you don't feel the same?" Catherine asked, digging as an investigator does. David shook his head.

"It's not that – I do feel the same way, I've known I have for a long time now. But we're just two different people. Greg sees affection through symbolic gestures –"

"Like walking hand in hand in front of your friends and co-workers," Catherine said.

"Whereas I feel I show affection by, say, spending an evening at home cuddling on the couch with him, or making a car payment when his check is going to come a few days later than it's do. It's like you said; he's a romantic, where I'm just… practical."

He hated to say that word. Practical. It was just so… practical.

"Hodges, I don't want to pretend to be an expert on relationships, because believe me I've been around the block of failure more times than I'd like to count, but part of keeping someone happy is sacrifice. Big ones, small ones, it doesn't matter what kind of sacrifice is being made, every relationship has them."

David sunk into the chair with a grimace on his face.

"Do you want my advice?" She asked.

"No," he grumbled.

"Well grit your teeth and endure it," she said. "You're coming to a crossroads. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you weren't. If you want to keep this ship floating you're going to have to make some hard decisions that I know you won't like. But they will pop up on you whether you're prepared or not. If walking ten feet hand-in-hand makes him happy, then I'd say it's the easiest walk of shame I'd ever done – and I've had some shameful walks in my past."

"Yeah, I get it," David said.

"We're talking meaningless, degrading, pulling gravel out of my knees shame," Catherine said.

"Great pep-talk," David said snidely. He scrambled out of his chair, pushing thoughts of Catherine out of his head after she'd placed those images in his brain.

"I'm here if you need me, Hodges!"

He heard her laughing, with sent his teeth grinding.

David yawned and checked his watch. Five minutes until it was time to clock out. He saved his documents and cleared his area as the day shift began to file into the station. He pulled his leather jacket out of his locker, glad to see the paint smooth and vandal-less as images of his imagination ran away with him.

"David," Greg called from the hall. "Do you mind giving me a ride home? I caught a ride here with Nick and my car's at home."

"Of course," David said. Greg never had to ask – aside from letting him know that he needed a ride, of course. He slung his jacket around his shoulders and swung his key-ring around his index finger.

"I really appreciate it," Greg said. He smiled, and David could feel his heart swell inside of his chest with pride. Pride that Greg felt he could rely on him. Pride that Greg wanted to rely on him. Pride that Greg was willing to go to such great lengths to make David happy, asking little-to-nothing in return.

Walking side-by-side to Greg, David glanced down at his partner's relaxed arms swinging very slightly back and forth at his side. David's fingers twitched a bit, and his arm followed suit. Only a couple of inches, his hand reached for Greg's very slowly as his heart pounded inside of his chest and his adrenaline made his digits tremble and his knees weak. A brush – just a brush – of skin sent David into a state of pure warmth.

"Sanders!" Nick rounded the corner, and David's hand dropped back to his hip like a slack rope. "Hey, you still need a ride back to your place?"

"No, Hodges is heading my way so he very generously offered to give me a lift," Greg said. "He's a very generous guy."

"You're a brave man, Sanders," Nick said as he looked Hodges from the ground up. "Hodges drives like a grandma with twenty babies in the backseat. He drives so slow I'm afraid of missing out on my next three birthdays by the time we get anywhere."

David narrowed his eyes as Nick laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm just kidding, Haas," Nick chuckled. "I'll catch you boys tomorrow."

David steamed all the way to the car with Greg smirking with amusement the entire way.

"The nerve of that hick 0 I do not drive like some grandmother with twenty cats in the backseat!"

"Babies, not cats," Greg said with a chortle.

David unlocked the doors and Greg bent low, staring at the boxes stacked in the middle of the front seat.

"You know, when you offered to drive me home you didn't say that the front seats were divided by a wall," Greg said.

"Actually, Greg, I didn't offer to drive you home. You asked me for a lift, and I said yes. But look at the bright side, baby; you won't have to worry about me getting fresh and putting my hand all over your knee," David said with a wink.

"There's always a bright side," Greg said sarcastically.

David started the car and pulled onto the street, stepping on the gas a little harder just to make a point to Greg.

"I talked to Catherine," David said.

"How did that go?" Greg asked.

"She's agreed to give me the time off," David said.

"What'd you tell her?" Greg asked.

"That I have rare Brazilian Butt-Worms from a bad batch of ground beef, and need a week to nurse my traumatized bunghole back to health," David said. He glanced Greg's way. He didn't react much. He didn't seem angry, but he didn't seem happy about it either. Just cold.

"I will pick up our tickets tomorrow afternoon and then it's A-Norway, baby," David said with a faux-Sinatra accent. It wasn't very good, but it seemed to put a smile back onto Greg's lips, which made David's mouth do the same.

"I believe it's amore," Greg said. "I want to buy the tickets."

"I can get them, don't worry about it," David said. Greg placed his hand over David's on the steering wheel, just resting his warm, tanned fingers over David's thinner ones.

"I want to," Greg said. "I'm dragging you to Norway, and I'm making you miss work. I want to at least pay for the tickets. Just let me do this, okay?"

"All right, fine," David said with a phony laugh. He took his hand off of the steering wheel and wrapped his fingers around Greg's, letting his left hand take control of the wheel. "If that's what you want."

David pulled to a stop into Greg's apartment complex and parked in front of his building. The early morning sky was ripe with the milky rays of orange and peach washing out the indigo darkness and the stars. David ended up knocking over the boxes in the middle to see Greg completely, not just his hand.

"Are you sure that you're fine coming with me?" Greg asked. "It just feels like I'm asking a lot here."

"What? No, no, definitely not. I'm happy to go. I know how much Papa Oslav –"

"Papa Olaf," Greg said.

"Right, I know how much Papa Olaf meant to you. I feel… incredibly privileged that you would want me there. Honored, even," David said. He looked Greg in his eyes and leaned closed. "I would do anything for you, because…"

And then his throat tightened, his tongue a knot. He fought against himself to force his mouth to form words, but Greg disrupted the fight by closing the space between them. He pressed his lips to David's, slowly interlocking them together. When he pulled away, David could taste his breath and see the morning light flood the contours of his irises. He brought his hand up to the back of Greg's neck, weaving his fingers into his smooth, soft hair, and pulled their lips together again, licking and sliding his tongue against the rough buds of Greg's.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" Greg asked.

"We really should get some sleep," David said. Greg kissed him again. "I mean, we've got so much to do on top of work." Greg kissed his jaw, just below his ear. "Packing… planning…" Greg's lips kissed the tender skin of his neck, and David shuddered as a quick lash of tongue flicked his sensitive collarbone.

David threw Greg down on his bed, and crawled over his body. Greg leaned up into his kiss, and David lowered himself over him. He felt Greg's hands tugging and pulling at his belt, and his own fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt. Greg slipped his shirt right over his head, and for a moment they looked each other in the eye. And then, just like that, the mood shifted. Their carnage softer, each rough push a gently caress now.

David ran his hand down the tight skin and soft hairs of Greg's chest, down to his stomach, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of the miracle beneath him. Greg's hand stroked him as he yearned for the younger man's affection. He kissed him relentlessly, desperately. He needed Greg more than he liked to let on, and Greg never minded his indulgences. Greg rolled over and David came down over him, wrapping his arms under Greg's and gripping his shoulders. He kissed him between his shoulder blades, and on the back of his neck.

"I want you, David," he whispered. "I need you."

Greg moved underneath him, ground his back against David. And David wasn't nearly strong enough to resist, especially when Greg was asking him. And David only wanted to give his lover every pleasure he desired.

He slowly pushed into Greg, an inch at first, and then pulling out and going two, then pulling out and pushing three inches in, repeating the pattern until he had completely immersed himself inside of his partner and Greg moaned with ecstasy. He felt complete with Greg, and when he was inside of this glorious man he felt their flesh conjoin, all colors and sensations meshed.

Greg turned onto his back, wrapping his legs around David's waist as he pushed deeper. He wrapped his arms around David's neck and moaned into his ear, telling him that he never wanted him to stop. Greg told him that he never wanted to know anyone else like this again, that he never wanted to forget the feel of David's touch.

David's hand shot up and gripped the top of Greg's headboard, squeezing until his knuckles turned white as he grunted. A milky ecstasy, mingling inside of and becoming a part of Greg.

David lay with Greg for a while, stroking his skin as they rested on their sides with Greg's back against his stomach. He held Greg close, gripping his hand.

"I meant what I said," Greg said.

"What did you say?" David asked earnestly. He'd been so wrapped up in making love to the man he loved more than anything else in the known universe that he was afraid he might have missed something.

"That I never want you to go anywhere," Greg said.

David lifted his head from his pillow and propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at Greg.

"I'm sorry if I seemed pushy a couple of days ago," Greg said. "I don't need PDA to feel special or anything. I don't even care if you come out at work. I don't care if we never come out. All I want is you, David."

David stared down into his boyish face and his tired eyes. He smiled down at his incredible Greg as his own guilt ate him up from the inside out.

"I'm not going anywhere," David said. He placed a soft, chaste kiss on Greg's forehead and held him close. "I'll be right here, always."

And with that promise, Greg fell asleep like a content toddler in a guardian's arms.