Hey, guys! I promised, and so shall I deliver. I made damn sure I had to keep going, and it worked. Oh, the cliffhangers. :)
So, here's another chapter. Also- Let me know if there's something you guys would like to see added in here. I'm plenty full of ideas, but I do want to please my audience. Twists you want to see, specific scene setups... Whatever, just let me know.
I was also thinking of doing a quick one-shot between them. FIRST PERSON TO TELL ME A TWIST THEY REALLY WANT GETS THE DEDICATION!
And, as always, a HUGE shout-out to DrowningInTheAshes. She's a constant support and inspiration, and a solid part of the reason why I came back. 3
This chapter is a little longer than usual as a gift to her. WE'RE HOLDING OUT FOR BETTER FLUFF OPPORTUNITIES.
I love you all, you wonderful readers. Enjoy.
Nick nodded softly into Greg's shoulder, accepting the flow of words as one might accept the trickle-flow of warm water down one's back.
"I'm utterly a fuckup." There was a pause. The spout sputtered, the water stuck behind a bubble of shame.
"I feel incapable of doing things right. The work part is the least of it... I mean, I can usually get back up when I get pushed down at work. It's expected. I'm okay with that. I'm gettin' there... With you behind me. You've always been so good to me..." His voice faded out and Nick could feel, or at least he thought he could (later he would wonder if his mind had conjured the whole thing, and a pleasant shiver ran through him, though he couldn't pinpoint the cause) feel Greg's arms tighten around him for just a moment.
"I just feel like I'm letting people down. I feel like I keep... falling short of what people want, not meeting expectations over and over. And I hate that feeling," he murmured, his arms still around Nick and Nick's around him. He was fairly sure he wouldn't have been able to support himself if they hadn't been. The words pulled the strength out of him, slowly and sadly.
"I keep feeling like I'm falling," he whispered. "And I can't tell when impact is, but I see frowning faces going by all the time. Everyone from work, but... My family, too. I even feel like people I barely know, like the quiet girl who li... used to live next door to me, judge me poorly. And I let them down all the time, in everything, in work, in how I act, in where I'm at in my life... And in who I am." These last few words were barely audible, but each one dragged a ripping pain of anxiety through Greg's chest.
Who I am. Gay I am. Gay, gay, gay, gay...
Nick sat, just holding him lightly for a moment, then pulled away very slowly. Greg could have cried, feeling something catastrophic was coming, how bad of a fuckup must he look like, oh god Nick was going to kick him out, Nick had IT figured out, he was going to hate him or did already and
and then Nick kept holding his shoulders, trying to look him in the eye. His voice was like cool, dark silk as he spoke. "You're a good man, Greg. You try damned hard, and people see that. Everyone at the lab loves you." Greg's heart fluttered at the word 'love'. "I mean, I know I do." Greg's heart nearly stopped entirely at this point. "You're funny, and smart, and quirky as all else. Hell, man, people are jealous of you. You're so... Interesting. Dynamic. And you handle everything like a champ. You're not perfect, and you're not a nitpick old-timer. No one expects you to be. You're just amazing in for the position you're in. I dunno if you see it, bud, but you're pretty special. You're standing inside the frame, trying to see the big picture. You've just gotta trust me, Greg, because I'm standing outside it, and what I see inside?" His eyebrows knit in kind, almost... No, it wasn't a loving look... Couldn't be. "I see a guy who I'm lucky to know. A guy who needs a little help to see that, and to feel that. And I just want to help. I just want you to trust me enough to let me help."
Tears slid silently down Greg's face. They weren't the molten, dagger-like tears of misery or embarassment. They were tears of wonder, of expectations blown wide open to reveal some glittering place he'd never been before. He'd never known anyone was jealous of him. He'd never seen anyone appreciate him. It was so intangible, tiny glances and gestures lost in the frantic chaos that often enveloped the lab, that were often cautiously hidden as someone observed him from afar. That Nick would say these things to him, that Nick himself, the angel, the beautiful, infallible, precious creature who held his shoulders and grounded him to something more solid-feeling than even the earth itself right now, that Nick would say that he... loved him?
It almost seemed worthwhile.
"Of course I trust you," he murmured. "I'd trust you with anything."
Nick's eyes positively sparkled in the faint, barely-lit dimness of his bedroom, and his smile trembled. Greg looked at him in astonishment. He couldn't be... Over him? Nick? In tears?
"I'm just sorry," Nick ventured, his voice wavering only a little, "that you feel like you do. But it means a lot..." He almost breathed the last word, then paused. "It means a lot that you trust me, Greg. I won't let you down."
The gentle kindness in his words, the power they held, the implications and the maybes and what-ifs swirled inside him, some black and some golden, a twisting maelstrom that overwhelmed him, and he simply wrapped his arms around Nick. He needed to be grounded again as the tears flowed faster, hotter, and he shivered some more. Nick just hugged him back, and his senses were filled with him, the scent of him, the feel of his hard, solid warmth... And Greg was vaguely aware of the softness of the mattress against his side, halfway thought they must be lying down now. The words "Sleep well, Greg," floated through his suddenly vacant mind, and he obeyed, slipping into a sleep so deep that the dreams were kept at bay.
The next morning met him with dull, grey light shafting in through the window. His eyes opened, and for a brief moment, he panicked, unaware of his surroundings and frightened. Then it hit him: he was in Nick's bed. The night before came back in a tornado of wild chaos, tearing through his thoughts and body like a horrible twister, and all at once, left him with equal violence, tearing away and leaving him numbly overwhelmed. He cleared his head the only way he could: asking questions. The only one that really made any sense to ask in his state was 'Where's Nick?' The bed was strangely cool, compared to his dim memories of last night, of the comforting warmth, of those arms... But he wasn't here now. The arms, and the warmth, were gone. I should probably get up and go find him, Greg mused, but he paused, taking a moment to breathe deeply the thick, masculine scent of Nick left on the sheets. Then he stretched and rolled out of bed, cautiously peered around the doorframe, and padded out to the kitchen.
"Morning, sunshine," Nick teased. "Guess you slept well. It's almost one."
Greg could only stare, gawping and wide-eyed, as Nick smiled teasingly at him. Had he really slept that long? And that well? How long had it been since he had slept that long without nightmares plaguing him?
"Cat got your tongue, I guess. Coffee?" He passed a cup across the small kitchen table to the sleepy blond, sipping his own. The rich smell of black coffee wafted around the kitchen, caressing his caffeine-deprived senses, and he gladly took the warm mug, wrapping his hands around it and drinking deeply. The strong bite of black bitterness was welcome and left him significantly more wakeful than before. Sitting, he cracked his neck and grinned gratefully up and across at his provider.
"So... Whaddya wanna do today?" Greg was surprised, barely aware the words had actually left his lips. "Grissom did say he'd throw us out on our behinds if we showed up for work at all today after the 18-hour stint..."
Nick looked thoughtfully into his mug, and Greg tried to pretend (successfully, he mused) to be nonchalant, his coffee saving him from awkwardly staring at his companion in expectation.
"I dunno," Nick mumbled into his daily dose of caffeine. "I have a couple errands to run, actually. Trip to the bank, groceries, get my emissions tested. Other than that, I'd be content to stay in and cook, watch some movies, maybe. You mind?"
The thought of spending the day with him, errands and all, was exhaulting. "I'd be fine with that." A thought occured to him just then, breaking through his joy and turning them solemn. "Actually... If it wouldn't be too much of a problem, I'd like to stop by my place? Grab a few things. I should probably schedule a day for a U-Haul and book a storage space..." he mused softly. Nick just nodded. It was a perfectly normal conversation, perhaps the first they'd had in a long while. The first one that didn't have to do with work (read: dead people) or Greg (read: his dysfunctions). It was light, it was natural, it was... Normal. It was right. It felt right.
They ate a nice breakfast, Greg praising Nick's cooking skills as Nick flipped pancakes high into the air and onto a plate, showing off with just a little more gusto than entirely necessary. Greg was rapt. Then each man showered in turn, Greg first, and not forty-five minutes after Greg's eyes first fluttered open that morning, they were sitting in Nick's truck, the engine rumbling to life.
The ride was nice enough. They playfully argued over what music to play, though Nick finally gave up. With a roll of his eyes and a faked exasperated sigh, he handed the jack for the tape deck to Greg. Not a moment after, a characteristically eclectic mix was humming through the truck's speakers, and Nick sighed in content acceptance of his fate. In usual fashion, Greg's dancing (even car dancing) was... interesting, with coordinated if not strange movements wracking his torso and arms, swaying and bucking and flailing within his own little space of music-induced stupor. As time went on, though, he began to glance over at his driving partner, and noticed with a sinking feeling that Nick's smile had faded a little, that he had gone quiet... And while pretending to search for a specific song, Greg unplugged his iPod and replaced it with the other man's. Country, of course, spilled from the speakers, and at first, Nick's brow furrowed. "I didn't know y..." He looked down and caught a glimpse of Greg, holding his disconnected iPod in one hand, a sheepish grin on his face. "You didn't have to," he murmured, touched.
"It's not so bad. You put up with my stuff, so." He shrugged and began to sway and headbob to the rhythm.
"Still, it was... sweet."
Greg felt his heart flutter, suddenly glad beyond all bounds that he had been able to please him with something so simple. "Any time," he murmured, his smile almost painful in its aching urgency.
"Let's make candy apples."
Greg had been obediently following Nick around the grocery store like a puppy for perhaps half an hour before he stood, stock still, in front of a basket of honeycrisp apples. The stand beside them held an assortment of fruit-enhancers- three kinds of dips, and two kinds of mix to make caramel or candy apples. "Please?"
It was all Nick could do not to burst out laughing. He could only think, He's been such a /good/ boy today... This, of course, sent him into a fit of giggles that hehad to stifle with the back of his hand. The guy looked like a kid standing there, wide-eyed, almost shivering with excitement. Nick was sure, had Greg been a dog, he'd have a tiny little stump of a tail wagging madly, his entire rear swaying from side to side. This last image sent him over the edge, and he started to laugh, trying to quiet himself. Greg only stood there, cocking his head (somewhat like a confused dog), his gaze shifting sideways to the apples, then back to the laughing man before him.
"Y.. Yeah, sure," Nick finally managed, wiping an eye. "You're too much, man. Too much." Shaking his head fondly, he grabbed a produce bag and began to pick the best apples from the bin.
"I love candy apples," Greg defended, his voice small and a little hurt. "It's been forever since I've had one. I think the last time was when I went to a fair in college with a couple friends." He reminisced a little, but shook the memory away quickly. It would lead, he knew, to remembering his friend's hateful comments upon reading his diary.
Fuckin' fag, you like guys? You wanna suck root? Christ, you're disgusting. Shoulda known you were a fruit.
Fruit.
Greg looked down at the apples, hoping with a vague, naive-feeling optimism, that he could rechristen the word 'fruit' with a new connotation by making these candy apples.
"So, what do you want for dinner, Greggo?" The nickname pulled a renewed smile to Nick's lips, and apparently, it had the same effect on Greg.
"Duuuh... I dunno. Maybe... OH!" His face lit up beneath the tinny glow of the flourescent lights overhead. "We should make carnival food. To go with the candy apples."
The thought swirled around in the brunet's mind for a minute, and his smile widened. "I can do that," he answered. "We'll need sausage and peppers. I've got onions, and we'll need some more frying oil. And hot dog rolls, or grinder rolls, whichever you want. We're doing fried dough and sausage grinders."
-
Nick thought vaguely as he stood in the kitchen, surrounded by a mess of gargantuan proportions, that this was the most fun he'd really had on a day off in quite a long time. Everything was made... lighter somehow, and more enjoyable, having Greg around. A car ride that was usually an annoyance had been a song and dance show, with Greg dancing in his peculiar way, singing along to only parts of the choruses of country songs he vaguely knew. A trip to the bank, normally a silent, solemn affair, was cheered when Greg complimented the desk clerk and struck up a conversation. Nick had seen that girl a million times before, but had never known or imagined she was a college student named Anneliese with a penchant for chocolate covered fruit. Grocery shopping became, if a slightly expensive trip, one full of "We should try this!" and "This looks interesting." Foods he had never given a glance to before, things he wouldn't have considered buying, had all tumbled into his cart. Hell, getting his emissions tested resulted in a dozen or so games of hangman that waffled between obscenely sophisticated vocabulary and the most childish examples that would come to mind. The vulgar ones had elicited soft giggles or snorts of disbelieving entertainment, and what was normally the longest half-hour he would spend felt like it passed in a minute flat. This kid, he thought lovingly, is a maniac renegade Energizer bunny.
He picked up their food, each plate heavy with sauce and cheese-laden dough and a thick, overstuffed sausage, onion and pepper grinder. The candy apples were sitting on a tray on top of the fridge, their glittering red coating drying. "Food's ready. Step right up, sir, right on up to the table, pitch 'til you win!" Nick mimed throwing the plate at Greg's face, which became a sheet of mock horror.
"Man, this smells DELICIOUS," he exclaimed, sliding into his seat as the plate descended before him. "Never would have pinned you as a cook, Nicky, but I'm glad."
Nick barely registered the flutter in his stomach, subconsciously passing it off as hunger. "Thanks," he murmured, only slightly aware that his cheeks were flushed. They sat to eat, and silence reigned as they each inhaled the meal. The silence was appreciative, not at all cold, and lasted until, after finishing his food and quaffing the rest of a root beer, Nick let out a belch. Greg snickered a little, eyeing the top of the fridge. "Hope you've still got room," he teased, nodding his head toward the apples.
"You only know it, G." The older man patted his stomach affectionately. "It's nice to have an excuse to make a Texas-sized meal again."
"Again? You always make Texas-sized meals."
"Yeah, but it's nice to have an excuse for once."
Greg tried to swallow his last big bite of fried dough before he was taken in peals of delighted laughter, which only led to a coughing fit. Smiling through little dry hacks, he giggled. "I only hope you don't make me snarf candy apple."
"Snarf?"
"Snarf... Laugh so hard, food comes out your nose. Or liquid. Orange soda is the worst." Greg affirmed this with a nod, then downed most of his drink, finally done coughing.
"Snarf." Nick shook his head. "That's a new one." He rose to get the apples and gave a soft grunt as he stretched. Greg was made almost painfully aware, all of a sudden, of his lean, toned figure beneath his clothes. As he stretched up and back, his shirt rose above the waist of his jeans, and he caught a glimpse of dark hair running in a trail down Nick's carved stomach, disappearing behind a button. His throat seemed to close up and he had to tear his eyes away, feeling a twinge just below his stomach, a tightening in his abdomen... Nooooonononono. Not now, he thought. Fantasize later. Food now, then movie, bed, fantasize. He punctuated the thought with a nod, which he was glad Nick was turned away and didn't see.
'CANDY APPLES!" he cried, snatching one off the waxed paper even before Nick had set the tray down. "Yeesh, Greg. Easy, boy. Inhale the air, eat the food."
Already with a mouthful of gooey red stuff and crunchy apple, Greg tried to give a closed-lipped smile.
"You're already a mess, you know."
Greg nodded.
"Covered in sugar."
Another nod.
"You're impossible."
Another nod, which Nick only responded to by taking an enormous hunk out of his apple. The sound the bite made in the crisp flesh of the fruit was like a shotgun blast, and the two once again set into a silent eating fest, the quiet only broken by the crisp crunch of the apples.
Sitting at the table, dishwasher humming along, kitchen (and Greg's previously sticky, red face) finally clean, the two men sighed in unison and smiled. Nick patted his stomach again and sat up a little straighter. "You up for a horror film?"
"I... Uh..." The blond had never been to good with scary movies, especially not since taking the job at the lab. "No slashers."
Nick smiled and nodded. "I see enough of that already. I was thinking something supernatural. I haven't had a chance to see either of the Paranormal Activities, and Archie keeps buggin' me to see them."
There was something that Greg could handle. "You make fun of me when I hide under a blanket, I will kick your Texan ass all the way back to Dallas."
"Scouts honor, I won't." The older man even held up a hand, a gesture that insisted he wasn't going to judge. "I swear on my Netflix account," he added, grinning.
"Ass," Greg shot back, a helpless grin spreading across his own lips as he slid back his chair and stood with some effort. "I'm gonna go make my nest while you set it up, okay?"
Nick shrugged, starting for the flatscreen in the living room. "Make it for two, lots of blankets. It's getting chilly out."
As Greg arranged the blankets on the couch, he couldn't help but replay those words. Make it for two. Two. For two.
It wasn't but a few minutes before he was sitting, cocooned in his protective shell of fluffy warmth, and even still, he could hardly believe he was sharing the loveseat with Nick. Between their combined width and the bulk added by the blankets around each of them, they were fairly well packed in, their bodies exchanging heat. Greg tried to drown out the thoughts of in the dark with Nick on the couch watching a movie in the dark just us really close on the couch under blankets just us in the dark with a scary movie with his growing unease. The style in which the movie was shot added to the knot in his stomach, but then again, so did his proximity to the larger man on his left. As the movie played and his anxiety increased, he found himself leaning closer and closer to Nick. Maybe 25 minutes from the end of the film, he found himself shaking, eyes wide, and as something jumped on the screen, Greg pressed his face into Nick's upper arm. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Nick pulled away, then slid the arm around him.
He just put his arm around me.
The thought was so stark, he jumped again, and Nick pulled him closer. Greg sat, almost numb with shock (and fear. He would remember later to tell Archie that it had scared him shitless, but had been absolutely fantastic. Very effective.), his heart welling with adoration as his stomach churned with fright. The contradiction was one that Greg was entirely okay with, and as the movie came to its climax, Greg pressed his face to the side Nick's neck, almost terrified of his own actions more than those on the screen. Nick responded in a way that Greg knew he would not forget. The dark-haired man, pulled him closer still and, having already been curled over him, Greg slid cleanly over into Nick's lap.
Nick made no attempt to move him, no intimation that he even wanted to move him.
Greg stayed where he was, heart thumping.
Amazingly, he could feel, with his head pressed against Nick's chest, that his heart was, too.