Bleeding Love – Part 9
Written By: Ms Maggs
December 6, 2002
Cruising Altitude: A thousand feet above Cloud 9
When Chad saw the cute blonde returning to his seat looking like the cat that ate the canary, he strolled down the aisle to congratulate him. "Way to go, buckaroo." He handed over a small certificate. "That's for your scrapbook."
Seeing 'Official Mile High Club Member' in red ink, Greg pretended he had earned the status instead of getting off on a technicality. "Thanks, I'm going to hang this on my fridge when I get home."
"I was bored, so I made you a congratulations gift bag too." The Flight Attendant proudly presented an airsickness bag stuffed with snacks and one more round of whisky. "I also figured you'd be thirsty after working up a sweat, so I put some bottled water in your seat pockets."
"Cool! Thanks!" Greg grabbed a pack of peanuts. "I'm starving."
"Uh oh, the sisters are looking for me." Chad pointed to the two nuns stretching in the aisle. "Or maybe you pinged their sin detectors and their looking to damn you and the cowboy to hell."
"I didn't know there were nuns on the plane."
"I love having nuns on my flights; it makes the passengers believe the plane won't crash and keeps them chilled."
Still thinking about what might have been, Greg whispered. "But I could have been busted by nuns."
"Yeah, too bad I didn't think to tell you sooner, it would have upped the taboo factor and made things even hotter." The flight attendant winked. "I'm going to help my sisters and then I'm taking a fifteen minute break. Enjoy the snacks, stud."
Greg cringed, feeling completely unworthy of the title. Losing control after twenty seconds of contact wasn't studly, it was juvenile, and he wondered if Nick would be able to look him in the eyes without laughing.
"Miss me?"
When Greg looked up and saw his buddy's familiar smile, he felt a twinge of optimism. "Yeah. You were gone so long I thought maybe you were parachuting out the back door to avoid me."
Grinning, the contented cowboy dropped into his window seat. "No, I was just back there makin' sure we didn't leave any evidence behind."
"In case the plane unexpectedly becomes a crime scene?"
"Hey, it happens, I've had to process four planes."
Greg burst into a grin. "Trust me, I couldn't take my eyes off the action and can confidently say that unless they swab your six pack, they won't find a trace."
"Okay, stop talkin' about it, or I'll be draggin' you back there for round two." Sliding to meet his mile high accomplice in the middle, Nick teased, "How long has it been since you spanked it, Speedy? Because it seemed like you were reeeeally locked and loaded."
Blushing, Greg averted his eyes. "I don't know. Like four days, maybe a week."
"Seriously?"
The lonely misfit half-joked, "To keep things fresh, my hand and I like to take a break from each other every now and then."
"See, I can't go that long. I get too tense."
"More tense than you usually are? Is that even possible?" Greg chuckled, "I guess I'll find that out first hand since we're sharing a room while you're under presentation pressure."
"First hand, huh?" Nick jumped at the offer. "Okay, if you insist, you can be my right hand man whenever I get too tense at the conference."
"Grissom told me when he comes to these things with you, you're tense 24/7."
"Yeah, 'cause he's not my type."
"HA!"
Patting his friend's thigh, he said, "But you and I can agree to be wank buddies, no strings attached. Honestly, it will be good for you not to be pent up when you go lookin' for your fantasy man. You'll be a lot less desperate, so won't lower your standards in the first ten minutes at the bar."
"And here I thought things might be awkward between us and you wouldn't want to look at me."
"Nah," Nick belly laughed, "the awkwardness won't hit us until we're sober. That's when we'll freak, agree to forget all this every happened, and avoid looking at each other as much as possible."
"Oh." Trying to delay their return to sobriety, Greg held up two whisky bottles. "Chad gave us a gift bag."
"Mmm." Nick twisted open the bottle and raised it. "Congrats on your mile high achievement, G."
"Technically I'm really not…"
"There's always the return flight," Nick teased before tapping his whisky to Greg's and downing it. "Good thing I brought B6 and aspirin, 'cause we're gonna be hung later." After wiping his lips, he pawed at the airsickness bag. "What else is in there? I'm starving."
After gulping the contents of his bottle, Greg started pulling out the items. "Pretzels, peanuts, cheese and crackers, Lorna Doone cookies and…what's this?" He grabbed the piece of paper sitting at the bottom of the bag. "Chad's cell phone number on a note that says he has a layover in Pittsburgh on Monday." He chuckled, "It also says 'meet me at Sparx at eleven, boys. You owe me three drinks, but I'm open to alternative suggestions if your relationship is." Glancing over he quizzically said, "Relationship…he thinks we're a couple?"
"I guess so." Nick snatched the paper and stuffed it in his jeans. "At least we know which club to go to when we're lookin' for your Mr. Right. As hot as he is, trust me, Chad doesn't slum it." He winked. "Maybe I'll hook up with him after you leave me to run off with Brian Kinney."
"I wouldn't." Greg lunged for a water bottle and twisted it open.
"Wouldn't what?" Watching his buddy chug the cool liquid, Nick became aware of his own thirst. "Can I have a sip of your water?"
"Anytime." Smiling he handed it over. "Because what's a little fluid exchange between wank buddies, right?"
After almost choking on his sip, Nick said, "Hey, before I sober up and freak out about all this, I just want to say…I'm havin' the best time in a long time, and I'm not just talkin' about the fireworks in the bathroom."
"Me too," Greg quietly answered while trying to fish peanuts out of their tiny bag. "I'm never going to be able to use a bathroom without thinking about you."
"That's really sweet, G…and pretty gross."
"Yeah, I realized that at soon as I said it, but it's true." Feeling the heat of Nick's gaze, he stammered, "I…okay…since you've been opening up and telling me personal things all night, I'll be honest with you…that was by far the most intense thing I've done with anyone ever." His nerves getting to him, Greg retreated to humor and overtalking. "Which is really pretty amazing considering I paid like a thousand bucks to party with a girl at the Bunny Ranch on the eve of my 23rd birthday. I know, I know, pathetic, but I had this deadline of 23 in my head, and I wasn't having any luck finding the right person so I decided to go the legal professional route, and since there aren't any legal male professionals, I ended up at the Ranch with Amber, who was really nice and definitely knowledgeable, but going around the world with her was nothing compared to being in that bathroom with you. With you everything was a hundred times hotter, which is funny considering Amber and I were naked, but you and I kept our underwear on, or mostly on. So, um…thanks for helping me figure out my place on the Kinsey Scale, and I want to let you know, that I normally wear better underwear, these are just really broken in and comfortable for flying long distances." Realizing he sounded like a blabbering idiot, he tossed a handful of nuts in his mouth to keep him from talking.
Too overwhelmed to react to anything else, Nick asked, "How are the peanuts?"
After swallowing, Greg anxiously replied, "Good Want a taste?" With a shaky hand, he offered the bag.
"Yeah." Wrapping his fingers around the back of his friend's neck, he pulled him close, and initiated a series of tantalizingly slow kisses, each one deeper and longer than the last.
"Whoa," the love struck drunk blurted, "I felt those down to my toes, Tex. I've never been kissed like that before."
"You mean Thousand Dollar Amber didn't make your toes curl when she smooched ya?"
"No, but in all fairness to her, that wasn't listed on the menu as part of the package."
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Nick heatedly whispered before consuming his friend's mouth again.
It wasn't just the public locale that made the normally private man's decision to kiss his friend so uncharacteristic, it was the kissing itself. Ever since suffering through the devastating consequences of loving a man, he had imposed a strict policy against intimacy with guys. He still kissed women on dates, because it was a necessary part of the ruse to prop his image, and because he knew it wouldn't lead to love and ultimately heartache. But since the policy went into effect, he only sought physical gratification from guys who weren't interested in anything more than dropping to their knees or facing the wall. He never brought anyone home. He never gave out his phone number. He never stuck around for anything more than a shower. He never let himself feel anything, but the release of physical tension…and he was always in control. Then Nigel Crane stalked and attacked him, and suddenly spending time with strangers, male or female, lost its appeal.
"G..."
"Please don't stop. It feels…"
"So good." Nick couldn't refrain long enough to complete a sentence. "We shouldn't…not here…I don't do PDAs."
"Just one more round," Greg pleaded, fearing that once they landed, his buddy would have a change of heart and cut him off from affection. "Please."
Nick responded by ignoring his better judgment and throwing everything he was feeling into a soul-reaching kiss.
Steve, it was that kiss that sealed the deal. Yeah…after that kiss I knew Greta was someone I needed in my life. Not that I told her that until almost two years later.
Two years?
Yeah, but when I did, I found out she already knew…she had known since that outbound flight. Which meant she knew I was lyin' every time I had shown up on her door during those two years saying 'This doesn't mean we're together, I just don't feel like going home today because…' I would fill in that blank with a stressful case or some other bullshit reason, but the truth was I just needed her.
That must have been one hell of a kiss.
It was.
"Wow," Grissom found another opportunity to keep the mood light. "I thought Nick had a strict 'no PDA' rule? At least that's what you told me when I accused you of fooling around in a Denali. But what's one more lie to the boss, right?"
"Nick does have a no PDAs in public rule, and for the last time, we weren't fooling around in the Denali that day, we really were just grabbing twenty minutes of sleep while pulling a double. That was over a year ago and Catherine vouched for us. I can't believe you're still suspicious."
"Like Catherine didn't owe Nick a cover up story, or twelve, after he'd been watching her mix business with pleasure for years?"
"Trust me, I've tried to get Mr. Responsibility to take a five minute break and fool around on the job like everyone else, but I struck out every time, because he was adamant that we'd get busted." Shaking his head, Greg explained, "Not that I can blame him for being paranoid. 99 percent of the time, Nick follows his enormous list of self-imposed personal accountability rules, but he's that unlucky overly responsible guy who pays the price that one percent of the time he stops worrying and overanalyzing everything just long enough to venture out of his safety zone While truly bad people can do bad things and get away with them 99 percent of the time."
"I vaguely remember him telling me something similar during the Kristy Hopkins case."
"Yeah, that's a perfect example. How many guys break the law and pay to sleep with prostitutes every night in this town and no one finds out about their illegal activity, but Nick falls into bed with one for free and in a matter of hours, the girl ends up dead and the entire department thinks Nick pays for sex and is a murderer? And what about when 'Mr. Be Frugal and Save Your Money' decided after months of deliberating that he should spend some of his hard earned cash on the deluxe sports package? His cable guy ends up stalking him. And I'm sure he won't be telling Steve the real reason that kiss was significant, but that's another great example."
Grissom's eyebows rose with his curiosity. "What can possibly be more embarrassing than what I've already heard?"
Moving closer, Greg whispered, "That kiss was the first time Nick let his guard down and got romantic with a guy in a public place. Care to guess what happened?"
The scientist blurted the first thing that popped into his mind, "While the two of you were attached at the mouth, the plane flew into a downward wind current, which caused a sudden and significant drop in altitude that resulted in you reflexively biting through Nick's tongue?"
"A very logical answer, and one to be expected from a brainiac, but that didn't happen. Although I'm sure Nick would have preferred your scenario if given a choice."
December 6, 2002
Cruising Altitude: Just south of Heaven
When 58 year old Sister Mary Margaret noticed the sign was gone that indicated the rear lavatory was closed for cleaning, she grabbed her Reader's Digest and decided to take a stroll for some privacy. Even the extra fiber in her cereal wasn't helping expedite matters these days, and she didn't want to inconvenience anyone by occupying the more centrally located bathrooms for an inordinate amount of time, or making people deal with a foul odor in a confined space. After all, it was a public place, and she couldn't selfishly engage in any behavior that might offend someone. "OH!"
The sound of a woman's voice startled the romantically preoccupied men and when they opened their eyes to see the source of the sound, they both gasped at the sight of a tiny shocked nun clutching a Reader's Digest.
"I'm fine!" Mary Margaret yelled back to her travel mate who had heard her shriek. "I thought I was slipping. There's no reason to come back here."
Nick used the distraction to slide as far away from Greg as possible and grab the blanket he had been using earlier. Pulling it up to his neck, he stared out the window and tried to will the woman away.
When the nun turned her attention back to the men, she whispered, "Sister Agnes isn't as compassionate as I am when it comes to your situation."
"Situation?" Greg parroted, while dividing his attention between observing Nick's strange behavior and not being rude to the lady who chose not to make a huge scene over two guys passionately kissing in a public aircraft.
"Young man, I'm sure you've been preached to and shouted at in your years, so let me make this clear, what I am about to say is not about judgment, it's about love…my love for a fellow lost soul and it's rooted in empathy." Mary Margaret, a firm believer in divine intervention, compassionately smiled at the boy. "There are no accidents. We've met for a reason. Let me be a friend and help you, as someone once helped me. What's your name?"
"Uh…Greg." His blood alcohol level still rising from the whisky he had just gulped, it was hard to believe the surreal situation was actually happening.
"I'm Sister Mary Margaret. It's a pleasure to meet you."
He anxiously shook her hand. "Hello." Considering the man who had just been rocking his world was now mute and under a blanket in fetal position, and a tiny cherub-faced nun was trying to befriend him at 30,000 feet, he quickly came to the conclusion he might actually be dreaming everything. Ugh! I should have known the bathroom and the kissing weren't real, nothing that exciting ever happens to me! That also explains the creepy almost empty plane and the hot flight attendant calling me a stud.
Sensing the young man was conflicted, the sister reached out. "I was in the your situation once - feeling as though I had no choice but to act on the desires that plagued me, believing that I was born differently and therefore predestined to live an unnatural life apart from my family and God. It is simply not true. I am living proof that urges can be suppressed and permanently denied."
"You mean like celibacy? Forever?" Greg shivered at the thought. "That has to be torture, because I was really sick of it after only 23 years."
"A celibate life isn't a tragedy; it's an opportunity to redirect your energy away from sin and toward meaningful and fulfilling work."
"I really want to be a CSI!" Greg blurted like a kid on a career day. "That's meaningful work and very fulfilling, much better than being a Lab Rat trapped in a glass cage. CSIs actually get to solve murders and give the victims' families closure. My buddy under the blanket is a CSI III. We're going to a Forensics conference together. I'm just a DNA Tech who was brought along to present a few technical things, but Nick is the star. He's the person who inspired me to want to be a CSI. Wait…" Greg whispered to the nun, "You can see him, right? Or is this really a dream?"
"Let's not worry about your co-worker and just focus on you, dear." A dedicated servant to those in need, Sister Mary Margaret loved the young man's career choice. "Helping those who can not help themselves is one of the most important calls we are challenged to answer in this lifetime. So you are already on a righteous path, now all you have to do is stop engaging in sinful acts."
"Honestly, I've barely engaged in anything."
"That's wonderful news, Greg, because the less time you've spent feeding your addiction, the less time required to break it."
"Addiction?" The song Addicted to Love popped into his head and he sang along for a minute.
"Like with any addiction, the first steps are to admit you have a problem and then put distance between yourself and what tempts you. Just like an alcoholic can't kick the habit in a bar, you won't be able to change your ways if you keep sitting with sexually aggressive men on dark airplanes."
Nick gripped his blanket tighter and fought to silence the voices in his head. Wade was controlling you, Nick. He observed you while you were working in the campus bookstore together and he only befriended you because he sensed you were vulnerable and knew he could exploit you. He's a sexually aggressive deviant and he doesn't love you…but your father does. No matter how strict he's been with you, no matter how much time he spends at his office, he loves you. Everything you're feeling for Wade or other males…it all stems from you not believing your father loves you. Because you didn't get the time you needed with him, you're subconsciously looking to all the wrong places to fill that void.
Finally tuning out the song in his head, Greg refocused on the nun. "Uh…what?"
"I won't lie, it's not easy at first, but all you need to understand right now is that it's possible. Are you from Vegas? I run a gay and lesbian support group at Saint Cecelia's Annex every Tuesday and Friday. The rest of the time you'll find me in the food bank or the soup kitchen."
Finally Greg heard something he could relate to. "Growing up, I worked with my mom stocking shelves in the food pantry at our church, and once a month we'd volunteer together at the soup kitchen. It was scary at first, but I really liked it after a while. I could tell we were helping people."
"Wonderful. Family support is so important in the beginning, because it's a serious leap of faith to believe that the joy of grace can surpass carnal pleasures, but if you can find the courage inside you to make that leap, you'll learn what I'm saying is true. Being a homosexual isn't a sin, just the lifestyle behaviors are. There are many of us within the church community living a chaste life and we'll be there to support you every step of the way."
"With all due respect, and I mean that, I respect you," Greg chuckled, "because you're a nun who walks the walk, not a fundie hypocrite lecturing me on morality and compassion before stepping over homeless people in the street on your way to a secret sex club…that really happened by the way."
"My favorite is the old windbag who speaks out on the evils of booze and gambling in Vegas, then drives to Reno to play cards, get drunk, and cheat on his wife."
"While their wife is back in Vegas at the secret sex club spending the clueless husband's cash."
"But it all works out when they reunite on Sunday in the front row of the mega church where they make sure everyone sees them hold hands and drop an envelope in the collection basket."
"Exactly!" Greg chuckled again. "That's my fundamental problem in a nutshell."
"Mine too, but you do realize they're not all like that. It just seems that way because the hypocrites are the loud mouths with nothing but time on their hands, while the ones truly following the Word go unnoticed because they're too busy actually doing the Lord's work to seek attention."
"Do you know who said, "You must be the change you seek in the world?"
"Gandhi."
Greg smiled and said, "Okay, we agree that hypocrites are annoying and there needs to be more compassion in the world, but not the other stuff. Sorry. I believe I was put on this Earth to live and love, not exist and suffer, so I'm gonna pass on your support group, but if you need any volunteers in the soup kitchen, I'll sign up for some shifts."
"We can always use an extra pair of hands, Greg. We serve lunch every day between eleven and one and dinner at five on Sundays." Having faith that a seed was firmly planted in the young man's mind, Mary Margaret peacefully smiled. "I hope to see you there. I'm going to Pittsburgh to speak at a conference on urban poverty, but I'll be back in Vegas on Thursday. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the restroom."
"Have fun." He covered his mouth with his hand. "I didn't mean…I know that's a Reader's Digest and not a…what I meant to say was…it was nice meeting you."
Suddenly concerned how it would look if she remained in the lavatory for twenty minutes, she smiled and pointed toward the other bathrooms. "Actually, I think I'll use the one up there."
As soon as the nun was gone, Greg slid to towards the window. "What's going on?" When he touched his friend's arm, he could tell he was shaking. "Talk to me."
His eyes fixed on the dark window, Nick shook his head.
"I just realized you've been telling me stuff for hours, but you've never answered my original question." In a gentle whisper, he prodded, "Why did you have a panic attack in the cab? You said you would tell me if I promised to take it to the grave and I did." He gave his buddy's arm a supportive squeeze. "Tell me."
"I…" The words caught in his throat.
"Okay, then I'll try and piece together the clues myself." Greg took a shot. "Two religious older women trying to convince you you're going to hell if you're actively gay. Do they remind you of your mother and make you feel guilty? Or make you think your mom wouldn't love you if she knew the truth?" In his whisky haze, he remembered some of Nick's earlier words 'If I tell you this, you gotta take it to the grave, understand? And I'd know it was you who blabbed if you did, because only two people in this world know what happened and one is dead and other one hasn't said a word about it in since it all went down.' "Wait…you said something went down and only two people know…you didn't accidentally kill a religious woman or…"
"No." Nick sucked in some oxygen through his nostrils, released it, and then faced his friend and his fears. "I…You know how I told you no one in my family ever figured out my secret? That's not true."
Seeing the agony in his friend's eyes, Greg reached out for his hand. "Your mom?"
"My father." He pulled in a jagged breath. "My sophomore year at A&M."
"He's known you're gay for almost ten years and…"
"No." Tears pooling in his eyes, Nick shook his head. "He thinks I was fixed."
"Fixed?" The word didn't sit right.
"This is really hard," the troubled man confessed.
"Tell me." Greg clutched the trembling hand he was holding. "You can trust me. I swear on my mother's life. I would never say or do anything to hurt you. Just let it out, whatever it is…I'm staying right here."
"I was so happy." The first tear of many streaming down his cheek, Nick whispered, "If I could go back, I would've stood up to him. I wish I would've been brave enough to use the words you said in the cab, or to that nun…but I wasn't confident like you, I terrified. He was gonna tell everyone. He was gonna take everything I had ever known away from me if I didn't…"
"Didn't what?" Greg kept waiting for a murder confession to pop up somewhere. "What did he do? What happened? Who's dead?"
After keeping the pain buried for nine years, Nick decided to unearth his painful past. "I met him when I started my co-op job at bookstore…"
ANs:
The chapter was already at 4500 words, and it's a long and scary story, soooo…next chapter.
Lots of backstory tidbits in this one and future setup. I said the boys would get off the plane in this chapter. They weren't ready : D
Thanks for the reviews on chapter 8, I appreciate it! Especially because it was an extra long one, so it's good to know it flowed.
Thanks for reading!
Maggs
