Title: The Medallion

Author: subobscura

See first chapter for rating and full headers.

A/N: I had a nice two and a half hour car ride tonight to think about where I want this to go next. I have nothing special to say tonight except thanks for the reviews. The next chapter should be expected Monday night or Tuesday, but perhaps as late as Friday. I have two papers and an exam next week, so fun writing has to take a backseat for a bit. For those of you that celebrate Passover or Easter, I hope you have a peaceful and meaningful celebration. The chapter title is from Wallace Stegner's beautiful novel, All the Little Live Things. Still slashy. Do I have to warn people every chapter?

Part 4- Dance in your bones

Nick didn't know when he woke up, but one moment he was enveloped in black and the next he was fully conscious of his surroundings with his eyes wide open. Sometimes, it was like this. He didn't wake with a jolt, but would instead breathe deeply, his thoughts edged in panic, until he could sort things out. And now here he was in Greg's bed in Greg's house, his bare chest caressed by the dry spring winds that swept through the open window and billowed the curtains and rattled the Venetian blinds. He didn't know what time it was, but it still felt early, like he didn't need to be up for awhile.

He turned over on his side and buried his face in the pillow and inhaled the scent of the other man. Hair product, a light cologne, and sweat that smelled uniquely of Greg. Nick was struck by the domesticity of it, waking up in the middle of the night next to his sleeping partner, even though nothing had really happened, and either one of them could chalk it up to fatigue and grease-induced hallucinations. Nick wouldn't do that though, because he realized at this point in his life, after everything that had happened, this right here and right now was what he needed more than anything. And even though he wasn't into self-pity, he felt he had earned whatever little happiness he could find, his family be damned and the team be damned and the LVPD be damned. He didn't know if Greg was the answer, but he sure as hell wanted to try.

He lifted his face from the pillow, and propped his head on his arm, intent on watching the young man beside him sleep. The whole day didn't seem real, seemed like a dream within a dream, and yet, he could feel the heat radiating off of Greg's body. Greg lay curled loosely on his side facing away from Nick, his hair mussed and spread on the pillow in exact contrast to the usual perfect control Greg maintained over it at work. He was a study in artistic grace with his long gracile limbs and pale skin, clothed only in white boxer briefs and a white t-shirt. They had both shed layers during the night to escape the pooling heat. Nick knew later he would sketch this moment with perfect clarity because he wanted to remember him forever in his innocence.

Nick noticed after a time that Greg's slim shoulders were shaking slightly, that he was taking breathy little gasps of air instead of the expected deep slow draws of sleep. Nick was utterly confused. He granted that the day's events were completely unexpected, but he was admittedly happy with the result. He couldn't understand why Greg was crying, and further why he was trying to hide it from him.

He reached out to gently touch the other man's shoulder, just a light brush, and asked in a whisper, "G, baby, what's wrong?" Maybe he was taking liberties with the pet names, but more often than not this was what he wanted to say anyway, and he was done hiding his feelings, just like that, like a switch had been flicked and could no longer be turned off.

The shaking stopped suddenly and there was silence from the other side of the bed, like Greg was ashamed at being caught in a terribly private moment. He drew his hand up to wipe his face before rolling over to face Nick. It was still early, only 7, so the streetlights hadn't come on yet and the east-facing room was dim. Greg's eyes were large frightened black pools in his face. He had streaks of tears on his cheeks, like he had been crying for a while.

"Why are you doing this?" Greg's voice was equally pitched in a low whisper, filled with damp tears.

"What," Nick asked, still confused, his accent deepening. "You asked me to stay, so I did."

"No," Greg gave an impatient shake of his head. "Why do you want to be with me?" If this was supposed to clarify things, Nick thought Greg had failed.

Nick reached out to trace a line down the side of the other man's face, cupping his jaw in his large palm. "G, I've wanted you for so long, I can't remember when it started. All I know is that one day, when we were talking, I realized I wanted to kiss you, and the thought didn't come as a surprise, like it had been there all along. My heart hurts with how much I want you. It just never seemed like the right time."

Greg's face contracted in a rictus of pain under Nick's hand and his whole body shuddered in a sob. His hand clenched in a fist by his side. "How can you say that, after everything I told you today? How can you still want me?" His voice was anguished and disbelieving.

"Sweetheart, what on earth are you getting at? Of course I still want you."

Greg growled before closing his eyes. "But I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anyone. I'm so dirty, Nick. I'm a drug-addicted whore. How can you want that when you can do so much better than me?"

How had Greg hidden all this behind his sweet façade for 11 years? Nick never would have guessed at the extent of the other man's pain. "Oh, God. G, open your eyes." Greg remained still with his eyes tightly clenched. "Greg, look at me," he said forcefully, in his best interrogation voice. Greg opened his eyes, tears spilling to slide over the bridge of his nose. "Good. I want you to see how sincere I am when I say this. I've known you for 7 years now, which is a hell of a long time. And though I've thought a great many things about you, not once have I ever thought of you as bad or ugly or dirty. That will not change because of what you've told me. When I think of Greg Sanders, I think of the man with the biggest heart, and the sharpest mind, and the fastest tongue I have ever known. I think of loud music and crazy shirts and hair with a personality all its own. I think of a man who can fill a room just by walking in with a beautiful body and a killer smile to match. You still have all the things that make me love you, and what you've told me just makes me love you more, because you fell so low and then picked yourself up again just like you always do."

"You love me?" Greg's voice trembled on the question, like he was afraid of the answer.

Nick faltered, for just a second, then he continued on, less sure of himself than before. "Yeah, G, I know it's too soon, way too soon to say this, but life's too short, and I really think I do. I love you, and not in a brotherly kind of way."

Greg's face curled up in a sob again, but this time he slid across the bed and wrapped his arms around Nick, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. His body was wracked with sobs, letting out all the fear and frustration and self-hatred of the last decade. Greg's tears were hot and wet on his humid skin. All Nick could do was wrap his arms around the young man, burying one hand in his hair, the other making comforting circles on his back, feeling the heat beneath the thin t-shirt. He made shhhhing noises, pleasebabydon'tcryyoubreakmyheartwhenyoucry, but all he could do was hold on until the storm passed.

He felt a wet open mouthed kiss on his neck, then a gentle suck with a small nip, then another kiss, and another, and another trailing up to his ear and down his jaw. He pulled Greg's head back with a gentle tug on his hair and looked into his face. His eyes were needy and a little desperate but filled with the same longing that Nick always thought he saw in their shared private moments. Then they were kissing again and this wasn't like their previous testing of the waters. No, this was hot and deep, pushing and pulsing and biting, all lips and teeth and tongue. Greg's arms were tight around him, his hands splayed over Nick's back, and Nick remembered that this was what it was like to be held by a man. Greg had unexpected reserves of strength in his wiry frame.

Nick lay Greg down and positioned himself over Greg's body, the other man's knees falling open to accommodate their new orientation on the horizontal. Nick ran his hands up Greg's inner thighs, delighting in the soft feel of his light brown silky body hair. He stopped and traced the edges of his boxer briefs with his fingers, before leaning forward to position half his weight on his arms and half on Greg, their lower bodies melting into each other. They moaned, and Nick's head swam with the contact high. He kissed Greg's forehead, the bridge of his nose, the birthmark on his right cheek, the corner of his mouth, before capturing his lips again, to which Greg eagerly responded letting out a whimper into Nick's mouth. Their hard erections rubbed together between them, and Nick ran his hands under Greg's shirt, over his heated abs and the cool metal of his belly ring and upwards to tease his nipples. Suddenly, Greg stiffened, and though they kissed for a few more seconds, Nick could tell that the spell was broken.

"Nick." Greg's voice came low and broken between them. "Nick, we have to stop."

"G, what's wrong?"

"Please don't take this the wrong way because this feels so good and I don't want to stop and it's probably going to be painful, very painful, but I'm just not ready for this yet." This all came out in one breath like it tended to do when Greg was nervous. "I don't mean to tease, and I know I started it, and I totally understand if you're pissed, and I guess we don't have to stop, but…"

Nick suddenly understood with perfect clarity that there was a lot more to the story than Greg was telling him, but he was willing to save that revelation for another night. If he ever got his hands on them, he would kill the bastards that had hurt his lover. "G," but Greg continued on unabated.

"I mean, we can just keep keep going, it's no big deal, I can get back into it again, really"

"G, shut up," and Greg flinched, and Nick broke a little because he had, unintentionally or not, hurt him. Nick fluttered kisses over his eyelids, his temples, his nose. "Honey, relax. Of course we don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. I've waited seven years. I'm a patient man. We can take however long you need." Greg relaxed into the mattress again and heaved a huge sigh, before wrapping his arms around Nick. Nick rolled off him to his back, and brought Greg close again who lay his head on his chest, ear smashed against him like he was listening to his heartbeat.

"You're too good to me, Nicky." Greg spoke into the still night air broken only by the sounds of traffic outside.

"Nothing's too good for you, G."

"Keep that up. Flattery will get you everywhere," Greg said with a slight smile in his voice.

"I intend on it," Nick said. For the rest of my life he added as an internal addendum.

"It's only 7:30," Greg said. "We can sleep a while longer."

Nick hummed in his throat. He relaxed his muscles, and meditated to the feel of Greg's chest moving in and out against him. Right before he fell asleep, he thought he heard Greg say he loved him too, but in that state between waking and dreaming, the mind can play tricks on you.

When he woke to the Rolling Stones at 10:30, he growled and reached to shut off the clock radio, finding empty space next to him. On the clock, there were two post-its side by side, a neon green one and a neon pink one. Greg had written him a note in his barely legible scrawl.

10 April '06

Nick,

I remembered I told Grissom I'd be in early tonight, but you looked like you could use some more sleep. There's fresh coffee in the pot, just turn it on, mugs are above the sink. Towels, a tooth brush and a razor are in the bathroom. Would you please feed the cats before you go? I left their bowls and a can on the counter. Make yourself at home. Lock up when you leave. Spare's hidden in the coffee filters. Thanks for last night. What you said meant a lot to me. See you tonight at the lab.

Yours,

G

Nick grinned. Only Greg would date his post-it notes. And even though it was a salutation, Greg had called himself Nick's. He felt happier than he had been in a long time.

As it turned out, Greg was away on assignment before cases were handed out, so Nick didn't see him again until he pulled into the driveway that morning to help finish processing the murder/ suicide that he was working with Warrick. Greg was sitting on the curb with a camera around his neck, finishing off an apple he had brought to tide him over until real food could be obtained. He raised one hand in greeting which Nick returned before getting out of the car, pulling his kit out of the passenger seat. Greg stood up and brushed off the back of his jeans before throwing the apple core into the sewer.

"Hey, man," Nick said walking up to him. "Here's your spare back." He dug into his pocket to get out the key.

"Hey," Greg said with a small smile. He shrugged. "Keep it."

Nick was flustered, but he hid it, saying, "Alright," before he pulled out his key-ring and slid it next to the key for his condo. "Well whaddya, know," he said. "A matched set." His smile grew a little wider.

"That's the idea," Greg replied. Greg always dressed symbolically, although 98 percent of the time, Nick couldn't figure out the deeper meaning behind the other man's apparel. Today, Greg wore his aviator sunglasses and his black button down. Nick guessed he was trying to get a little emotional distance on the scene and build up his fragile emotional walls. What Nick was more interested in, though, was that Greg's brown leather wrist cuffs had reappeared from the depths of his wardrobe. In his own way, Greg seemed to be announcing to the world that he was a taken man. "Coffee after shift," Greg asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Wouldn't miss it," Nick replied easily. "So, Greggo," Nick said, clapping the other man on his shoulder. "Tell me what we've got." They turned and started towards the house.

Greg grinned and said, "Male and female DB, matching cranial gunshot wounds…"

A/N: Well, that took quite awhile to write, followed by some hyperventilating when Word froze up. Thank god for autorecovery. At least Microsoft can do something right. There's more to come…a lot more. So stick around. I hope you're as happy with the final product of this chapter as I am.