A/N: Usual disclaimer applies as always. I apologize ahead of time for the long, drawn-out and pointlessness of this chapter. It's pretty much just random fluff. Only seven chapters left…I feel sad.But in any case…read and enjoy!

"Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?

Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you?

It's inevitable

It's the fact that we're gonna get down to it

So tell me

Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?"

Greg rolled over and kissed Ryan gently on the cheek. "Ryan," he whispered in his ear. "Ryan."

"Mmmph," muttered Ryan sleepily, rolling over and curling up with his back to Greg. "Leave me alone. We don't have a conference session today."

"I know," said Greg, propping his head up on his hand as he looked at Ryan. "I was thinking we could do something today…like go to Millennium Park."

"Let me get this straight," said Ryan, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "when we actually have to be somewhere, you won't get up and want to sleep, but when we get to sleep, you want nothing more than to get up and do stuff?" He smiled and shook his head, fighting off a yawn. "I will never understand you, Greg."

"If you want to sleep, I guess I'll let you," said Greg reluctantly, flopping back down on the bed. "After all," he added, smiling wickedly, "I did keep you up awfully late last night."

Ryan glared at him and sat up, stretching as he did so. "No," he said, yawning widely, "you woke me up and now I'm up." He stood and walked over to the coffee machine, calling over his shoulder, "Hey, have you got anymore of that coffee?"

"God, you're gonna clean me out of my entire stock!" complained Greg, rolling out of bed and stalking over to his bag to grab some more.

"That's not my fault," said Ryan defensively. "You're the one that got me addicted to it! And besides, soon enough, I've gotta go back to Miami, and the coffee we've got at the lab is revolting."

Greg sighed and rolled his eyes. "I guess I can satisfy you…" he said, then he grinned. "In more ways then one if you'd like…"

Ryan glared at him, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. "Only you can turn anything into something sexual," he commented, starting the coffee machine. He turned back to Greg. "Are we going to order room service again, or what?"

"Oo!" said Greg excitedly, bouncing up and down on the ball of his feet. "Let's go out for breakfast. We can go to a little café and get some pancakes and—"

"Whoa, calm down!" laughed Ryan, coming over and wrapping his arms around Greg's waist. "We can go out for breakfast, that's fine with me."

Greg grinned and rested his forehead against Ryan's. "That would make me really, really happy," he whispered, touching his nose to Ryan's. "Just being with you makes me happy."

Ryan smiled but shook his head, pushing Greg away. "Go shower, you big sap. I'm going to have myself some coffee and shower myself, and then we can go for breakfast."

"Awesome," grinned Greg, leaning in for a quick kiss before he disappeared to the bathroom, whistling, "Put on a Happy Face." When he shut the door, he started belting, "And spread sunshine all over the place, just put on a happy face!"

"Shut up, Greg!" roared Ryan, shaking his head again. He started fixing himself a cup of coffee, and was quite surprised to find himself humming "Put on a Happy Face," under his breath. "Damn," he muttered, unable to keep from smiling. "Damn."

Greg and Ryan strolled through Millennium Park, hand in hand. Greg was giddy as a child, running ahead of Ryan to point things out, like the Cloud Gate (which Ryan still thought just looked like a giant bean) and the Crown Fountain (which Ryan found creepy; who wanted to look at giant faces spitting water at you?) Greg, of course, was fascinated by the fountain, and ran under the water no less than five times, succeeding in getting himself completely and utterly soaked.

Ryan smiled at Greg as he walked to where Greg now stood, drenched but happy, looking up at the Cloud Gate, the sky reflecting off its surface and Greg's eyes. Greg took a deep breath and exhaled in a contented sigh. He turned to Ryan and smiled happily. "Thanks for coming with me today."

"You're welcome," said Ryan, hiding a smile. "But you do realize the day's not over yet."

Greg grinned and wove his fingers with Ryan's. "Well, what do you suggest we do, Mr. Wolfe?"

"Well…" said Ryan, cocking his head slightly. "I don't know if you would be interested, Mr. Sanders, but I thought maybe we could see a baseball game."

"Sweet!" exclaimed Greg, beaming at Ryan. "I love baseball!" He paused, then shrugged and said, "Ok, well, I actually haven't seen a baseball game in years, but I used to like it."

"That's good," laughed Ryan, turning to head out of the park. "What was the last baseball game you saw?"

"Er…I think I saw the 49ers play when I was in college…" said Greg slowly, trying to remember.

Ryan burst out laughing. "Greg, the 49ers are a football team!" he exclaimed.

Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "Meh," he said, unconcerned about his sports faux pas. He started skipping off toward the street, then stopped. "How are we gonna get there?" he asked, turning back around. "Are we taking a cab, or what?"

Ryan shrugged. "We can take a cab if want, or we can take the El…either way is fine with me."

"Oo, let's take the train!" exclaimed Greg, looking far-too excited.

"Ok, we'll take the train," said Ryan with a smile.

They continued walking. Suddenly, Greg stopped and frowned. "Which are we going to?" he asked, brow furrowed. "Comiskey Park of Wrigley Field?"

"It's U.S. Cellular field now," said Ryan, shrugging, "and I don't care. It's up to you. Both have games today. The Cubs start at one, and the Sox at one-thirty."

"Cubs, definitely," said Greg without a moment of hesitation.

"Cubs?" asked Ryan incredulously, stopping and giving Greg a look. "Why don't you want to watch a team that actually has a chance of winning?"

Greg gave Ryan a look of his own. "You always root for the underdog," he informed him, arching an eyebrow. "Besides," he added, smirking devilishly at Ryan, "I thought you said it was my choice."

"It is…" said Ryan reluctantly, but he smiled up at Greg. "So long at we get to do whatever I want to afterwards."

Greg cocked his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Ryan. "Well, that depends on what you have planned…"

Ryan grinned and shook his head, sticking his tongue out childishly. "Nuh-uh, not gonna tell!" he said in a singsong voice. "It's a surprise…"

"How can I agree to something when I don't even know what it is?" coaxed Greg in wheedling tones, pouting slightly and looking pleadingly at Ryan with puppy-dog eyes.

Ryan, however, was adamant. "Nope. Try as much as you want, Sanders, my lips are sealed."

Greg raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to Ryan. "Well, what if I were to take my lips and—" He leaned in and kissed Ryan gently.

Laughing slightly, Ryan pushed him away. "Sex gets you nowhere, Greggo," he informed him, eyes twinkling. "Well, almost nowhere," he added as an afterthought, taking Greg's hand and pulling him. "Now c'mon. We've gotta go or we're going to be late."

Greg smiled as they both headed off toward the nearest El station.

"Hot dogs!" yelled a vendor as he paced the aisles of Wrigley Field, waving his merchandise in the air. "Get your hot dogs here!"

Greg edged around him to return to his seat, trying to prevent the white foam of the beers he was carrying from slopping out. An overzealous fan leapt out of his seat, accidentally jarring his elbow and causing a large amount of beer to spill onto his hand.

"Shit," he muttered darkly, finally making it to his seat.

"Oh, pobrecito," said Ryan warmly, reaching up and taking the full beer from him. "Did ickle Greggo spill some beer on himself?" he asked in a singsong voice.

Greg scowled at Ryan, plopping down into his seat and wiping off his hand with a napkin. "'Ickle' Greggo didn't do anything," he snapped. "Some stupid Marlins fan made me spill."

"Tell me you're not dissing the Marlins," said Ryan mildly, but he raised an eyebrow at Greg. "Even though I'm not a fan, offending my home team just isn't cool."

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Greg, eyes twinkling. "Can you ever forgive me? I don't think I could take the anguish if you couldn't."

Now it was Ryan's turn to scowl. But it was quickly replaced by a gentle smile as he watched Greg suck on his hand in an attempt to get the beer off. Suddenly, he frowned again. "Greg, you didn't get me my popcorn," he informed him.

"Damn," groaned Greg. "Why the hell do I have to get you everything?" he complained, trying to give Ryan the evil eye and failing. Miserably.

"Well, you were the one who volunteered to take the aisle seat," Ryan reminded him, raising an eyebrow. "In fact, as far as I can remember, you insisted on it. Something about wanting to stretch your legs out in the aisle."

Greg gave him a look and stood reluctantly, stomping back up the aisle to get Ryan his stupid popcorn.

Ryan chuckled softly as he watched Greg stomp off before turning back to the game.

By the time Greg got back with this popcorn, it was time for the seventh inning stretch. Greg and Ryan both stood up, surrounded by semi-sloshed Cubs fans drowning their sorrows in beer (the Cubs were losing 5-1).

The announcer began "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," and both men willingly joined in, even singing it the Chicago way and changing "home team" to "Cubbies."

"For it's root, root, root for the Cubbies

If they don't win it's a shame

For it's one, two, three strikes you're out

At the old ball game!"

The crowd broke out into cheers and Greg threw an arm around Ryan's shoulders, hugging him to him.

Suddenly, Ryan and Greg were up on the big screen, courtesy of the "Kiss Cam." The crowd around them started chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Greg looked at Ryan and shrugged, grinning. Ryan shrugged as well, although he blushed scarlet, and they leaned in and kissed each other.

The crowd around them cheered wildly, and Ryan wrapped his arms around Greg's wait, deepening the kiss. Even though the "kiss cam" had already moved on, they still kissed, wrapped in each other's arms, oblivious to the game starting again.

They broke apart after a few moments and Ryan grinned at Greg. Greg grinned back before grabbing Ryan's hand and saying, "Why don't we blow this popsicle stand?"

"Mm, I suppose," agreed Ryan, leaning his head against Greg's shoulder. "What time is it?"

"A little after three," replied Greg after a quick consultation of his watch. He gave Ryan a sideways glance and asked casually, "What time do we have to be at this…place that we're going to?"

"7:15 or so," said Ryan unconcernedly, gathering their garbage to throw out. He gave Greg a sideways glance of his own, shaking his head and smiling. "And you're still not getting where we're going out of me."

"Damn, you're onto me," muttered Greg darkly, but he couldn't help but smile at Ryan as they made their way out of Wrigley Field and back toward the El station. "Well, what're we going to do in the meantime?" he asked as they boarded the train.

Ryan gave Greg a look. "What do you think we're gonna do?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. 'We're in Chicago, home of the Magnificent Mile!" He grinned widely. "We're going shopping."

Two hours and several hundred dollars later, Greg and Ryan walked down Michigan Avenue. Technically, Ryan walked. Greg kind of teetered, laden down with bags containing all of their purchases.

In actuality, majority of the things that had been bought that day had been purchased by Ryan. Greg had bought a pair of jeans and a new CD. The rest was Ryan's.

Greg pointed this out as he rebalanced a pair of shoes from the Nike store on top of a bag from the Gap. "Ryan, why the hell am I carrying all your sit?"

Ryan blinked innocently up at him. "Because you're a gentleman," he said, then he added sweetly, "And because you're such a big, strong, fine man."

Greg groaned. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Wolfe," he snapped, leaning against the wall of a building as they waited for the light to change. "And besides, I know that hidden under those suit jackets you insist upon wearing are hidden arm muscles bigger than mine will ever be. So don't go pulling that 'strong' crap with me."

Ryan just grinned. "You know, I'd gladly take some of those bags from you if you'd just ask," he said gently, nudging Greg with his shoulder.

Greg glowered at him. "Oh no you don't," he growled, holding onto the bags possessively. "I'm not weak; I can carry these bags just fine."

Smiling sweetly up at him, Ryan said, "Then stop complaining about it."

He grinned as Greg's face turned dark when he realized what had just happened. "You're dead, Wolfe," said Greg menacingly.

Ryan just laughed, and Greg's face softened. He leaned in and kissed Ryan softly on the lips. Ryan kissed him back, leaning into it and kissing Greg deeply. They broke apart and Ryan smiled up at Greg, reaching out and taking a few of the bags from him. "What do you say to dropping these off at the hotel and then heading for an early dinner?" asked Ryan, taking Greg's now-free hand. "My treat."

"Ok," grinned Greg. "Ok."

After dinner, Greg and Ryan strolled down the streets of Chicago, hand in hand, on their way to Ryan's…place. Greg was still mystified as to where they were going, until they turned onto Randolph Street, entering the theatre district. Greg looked at Ryan and smiled. "Are we going to see a show?" he asked hopefully.

Ryan smiled back at him. "Perhaps," he replied, trying to be cryptic. When Greg pouted at him, he relented. "Fine, fine. Yes, we're going to see a show, alright?"

"Yay!" cheered Greg, beaming happily. They kept walking until Greg suddenly stopped and asked, "What show are we going to?"

Ryan groaned aloud. "Have you no patience, man? We'll be there in five minutes, and you honestly can't wait that long?"

Greg cocked his head to the side as if he was honestly considering it. "Nope," he said cheerfully, then returned to giving Ryan the maxed-up puppy-dog eyes.

Groaning again, Ryan relented. "Fine, I'll give you a clue. The musical we're going to see won a Tony Award for Best Actress in 2004. It was also nominated for nine other categories, including Best Musical."

Greg pulled a face as he frowned, thinking. His thoughts kept him occupied until they reached the theatre, and Ryan cleared his throat gently. "Greg, we're here."

Looking up, Greg's eyes widened as he took in the green lights that illuminated the marquee of the Oriental Theatre. "We're going to see Wicked?" asked Greg in a stage whisper.

"Yep," grinned Ryan, taking his arm. He paused, then asked worriedly, "Is that alright?"

"That's more than alright, it's amazing!" exclaimed Greg. "I've always wanted to see Wicked, but when I checked online for tickets to see it while I was here, it was sold out." He gave Ryan a curious look. "Speaking of which, how did you get tickets?"

Ryan smirked. "My cousin's husband is in the show. He's one of the flying monkeys, and he hooked me up with tickets. Center stage, second row of the loge." He pulled the tickets out of his pocket. "Pretty damn good seats, all things considered."

Greg grinned and wrapped his arms around waist. "Did I ever get around to telling you how absolutely amazing you are," he asked, hot breath tickling Ryan's ear.

"Mm," said Ryan, putting his arms around Greg's neck. "You may have mentioned something about it, but I think you'll just have to show me how amazing I am later tonight."

Greg's grin turned dirty. "I'll be sure to take you up on that offer." He hooked his arms through Ryan's. "C'mon, we'd better go or we're going to be late." They both turned and entered the theatre together.

Greg and Ryan watched the entirety of Wicked in a sort of stunned amazement, at times laughing out loud and at times clutching each other to try and keep from crying. By the end of the show, though, both men were sobbing, though Greg would later vehemently deny it.

As they left the theatre, they discussed the show, reminiscing about "Defying Gravity" and "For Good", which they both thought were amazing songs. Though they couldn't agree on whether Glinda or Elphaba was the protagonist, and whether "As Long as You're Mine" or "I'm Not That Girl" was better, they both concurred on one point: Fiyero was hot.

Once they were outside of the theatre district and away from all the crowds, Greg took Ryan's hand and kissed it. "What do you say I take you up on that offer now?" he asked, voice deep and alluring, his eyes burning darkly.

Ryan didn't answer, simply throwing his arms around Greg's neck and kissing him deeply. Greg laughed gently. "I'll take that as a yes."

A/N: Oh, by the way, the "El" is an abbreviation for Elevated, which is what we Chicagoans call our…er…would it be super-way instead of subway? Well, whatever. Oh, and Wicked is, quite unfortunately, not mine. But it is amazing. If you ever get a chance to see it, go. It's fan-freaking-tastic.