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Aug. 22nd, 2004 11:19 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregAuthor: geekwriter
Title: One Good Man – Part Eleven
Category: angst, romance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Greg and Nick carry on.
Nick was kissing him. Nick's warm, strong mouth was over his, teasing his lips open, tasting his mouth and taking everything Greg could give, his kisses and his moans and his hands frantic in Nick's short hair, down his muscled back to his ass, that tight perfect ass that made him quiver just to think about.
And then he was kneeling, taking Nick's cock in his mouth and the taste and the smell and the sensation as Nick gripped his hair tight and thrust his hips, fucked Greg's willing mouth, shoved his cock right down Greg's throat. And, Christ, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of Nick's strength, the way he could just grab him and position him any way he wanted, the way he could meet Greg's strength with his own and hold on to him so tight that small finger-tip shaped bruises formed on his arms and his shoulders and his hips.
He wanted it, needed it, he was kissing Nick again and grinding against him, trying to grind up against him, he knew Nick was right there, so close, but he couldn't reach him, couldn't touch him, needed to feel Nick's body against his own but he was so far away and—
He woke up arching against nothing but air. He reached down between his legs and he was so hard it only took a few strokes before he was coming, drops of cum landing on his stomach, his chest, even in his hair.
His entire body was sticky with sweat and the sheets were damp against his skin. It was one in the morning. He'd slept for far too long. He pushed himself up, the bedroom completely dark since the aquarium light had switched from day to dusk to moonlight, but he didn't need to see to stumble into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
The light hurt his eyes but the cool water felt amazing on his skin and he stood under its spray for a few minutes, still wobbly from climax and groggy from the aftereffects of the Xanax.
He was naked when he stepped out of the bathroom, and he felt around in the dark for his closet light and switched it on before pulling on a clean pair of boxers and a worn t-shirt that said "Never Lick the Spoon."
He opened his bedroom door and shuffled down the hall, scratching the back of his neck where his scars sometimes itched. He hated the slightly hungover feeling Xanax gave him, which was one of the reasons he didn't like to take it. His hands weren't shaking but he didn't know if it was because he was better or if there was some of the drug left in his system.
"Hey," came a soft voice from the darkness of the living room.
Greg gasped and fumbled for the hall light and when he saw Nick sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa he said, "Jesus! Don't you know not to sneak up on people like that?"
"Since I was sitting here first," Nick said, "technically, you snuck up on me."
"I could have shot you, you know."
"You don't carry a gun, Greg."
"No, but I own one."
"Guess you've got as good a reason as anybody to stick a gun in my face," Nick said as Greg headed towards the kitchen. Then, "You own a gun?"
"I kind of have to be weapons certified if I want to get into the field full time."
Nick didn't say anything as Greg dumped out the pot of cold coffee, rinsed it, threw away the filter and used grounds.
"Are you a good shot?" Nick asked finally.
"I'm a great shot," Greg said. "Surprised?"
Nick shook his head. "No. You're good at everything you do."
Greg filled the coffee pot with fresh grounds and cold water, then switched it on. He brushed the sugar off the counter into his hand and dropped it in the sink. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I switched nights with Warrick. He didn't mind. He prefers Saturdays off, anyway."
Greg watched the coffee brew, poured himself a cup when the pot was half full. He made a big show of dumping two spoonfuls of sugar into it and he hoped it made Nick feel like shit.
"Coffee?" he asked Nick before taking a swig.
Nick shook his head. "I've been sitting here since you fell asleep," he said softly, "thinking. I didn't want to leave because I knew you wouldn't let me in again."
Greg didn't argue with him, just took another sip of coffee. He could feel a slight tremor in his left hand, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't noticeable to anyone but himself. He doubted the coffee would help. "You've been sitting in the dark for…" he looked at the clock. "Fifteen hours?" Something about that made him feel strangely giddy.
"I slept some. And it didn't get dark until eleven. I think the light in your aquarium burned out."
"I have it on a timer. It's supposed to do that."
"Your neighbor lady came by around six, wanted to see how you were. She fed the fish and brought over baby cucumbers. They're in the fridge."
"Did she feed the ones in my room, too?"
Nick nodded. "I checked on you first to make sure you hadn't thrown the covers off or anything. She asked if I was your young man."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I hoped to be." He looked down at his hands. "I don't blame you for hating me." His voice was choked with tears.
"I don't hate you."
Nick looked up and the expression in his eyes was hopeful even though tears were dripping down his cheeks.
"I want to hate you. I wish I did hate you. I'm pissed as hell, but I don't hate you."
"Can you forgive me?"
Greg looked at him for a long moment. Nick was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. He was a good lover, an amazing kisser, his words tender and honey sweet. Sweet until he chose to turn them to vinegar and use them to sting.
"I don't know," Greg admitted.
"I made a mistake."
"You accused me of being a liar. You questioned my devotion to my job, my trustworthiness as a scientist, my whole fucking worth, Nick. You made it clear that you don't think very much of me. You never did."
"That's not true."
"You could have asked me. I would have been pissed, sure, but not like this. I could have forgiven you if you'd just asked."
Nick sniffed back his tears, then sighed shakily. "I'm no good at this. I'm not good at anything new, anything I haven't done before or seen before. I don't know why I didn't ask you except that maybe there's a part of me that's scared of the things you did in the past, that's scared of the fact that you're not the guy I thought you were."
Greg set his mug down on the counter hard enough to slosh coffee over the side.
"Not in a bad way," Nick said quickly. "That's not what I meant. It's just…I had you in this box in my head, and then you just demolished everything I thought I knew. You weren't supposed to be this great guy that I fell in love with. You weren't supposed to be amazing in bed or do all those things you talked about—latex and surfing and hot sex with beautiful blondes. You were just supposed to be this nerdy guy in the lab that I never really looked at very long, that spent his days off playing chess or going to Star Trek conventions, that didn't know what I was doing when I flirted with him."
"So you did know you were flirting." Greg hated the little thrill that blossomed in the pit of his stomach at the thought.
"Of course I knew I was flirting. Not in any serious way, just as, you know, something to do. I didn't know you were flirting back."
"You thought I was nerdy?"
"Until I really looked at you."
Greg sighed, crossed the room, sat on the floor next to Nick and leaned back against the couch. "Just so you know, Hodges broke after less than five hours."
"He told you I asked him to analyze something off the record?"
"No. He told Archie, who told Bobby, who told Doc Robbins, who told David, who told Sara hoping to impress her, who told Catherine, who told Jacqui, who told me. But I already knew, since he used the mass spec to analyze it and hunched his shoulders as if protecting government secrets any time I came within five feet. If you need something done off the record, you don't go to Hodges."
"So the entire lab knows," Nick said.
"By now day shift probably knows, too. And anybody who was off last night."
Nick rubbed his hands over his face. "Do they know why?"
"Bobby thinks it has something to do with your fear of carbs and Jacqui thinks you're afraid you're being poisoned by the baristas at Spirit Café."
"And everybody else?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. That's all Jacqui told me. I think Hodges suspects something, though. I'm pretty sure he knows that I use that kind of sugar, and the fact that you went to him instead of me didn't help."
Nick let out a soft laugh that let Greg know he didn't think any of it was funny. "So we're fucked."
"No. It's all speculation. Besides, it's not like we're together anymore."
Nick took another shaky breath. "You won't give me another chance?"
"I don't know if I can." Greg felt the ache build in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it, but the tears spilled over anyway. He closed his eyes when Nick touched his face and he didn't want to, but he leaned into Nick's caress.
"Whatever it takes I'll do it," Nick whispered, sliding his fingers through Greg's hair. "I'll be here for as long it takes you to trust me again."
Greg tilted his head up. "Just kiss me."
Nick's mouth was hot, his lips gentle, his fingers stroking Greg's cheeks and his neck, tracing along the edges of the scars that emerged past the collar of his shirt.
His tears mingled with Nick's as he pressed their cheeks together. "Why can't I just hate you?" he whispered, reaching up to slide his fingers through Nick's hair.
Nick didn't answer, just shifted so that his arm was around Greg's shoulders.
"This would be easier if I didn't love you so damn much."
"Then I'm glad it's not easy." Nick pulled back and gazed into Greg's eyes. He brushed Greg's lower lip with his thumb. "Where do we go from here?"
"We try again, I guess. I can't guarantee anything. I can't say that I'll ever completely forgive you."
"All I need is a chance."
Greg smiled. He loved that about Nick, that optimist streak in him that wouldn't die no matter how much cruelty and evil he saw. He believed the best in everyone. Everyone but Greg.
"What?" Nick asked, and Greg knew he must have given something away in his eyes.
"What would you have done?" he asked softly. "If it had been drugs. If I had been lying to you, using, making every shred of evidence I handled useless? What were you going to do?"
"Help you," Nick said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"How?"
"Greg, why does this even matter?"
"I just want to know. Would you have gone to Grissom?"
"No. Only as a last resort. Only if I couldn't do it on my own."
"How would you have gotten me to stop?"
Nick shrugged. "I don't know. I would have talked to you, I guess."
"And if I wouldn't stop?"
"I'd just keep loving you, keep trying."
"Love can't save people, Nick," Greg said. "Love doesn't solve anything." He pulled away from Nick's embrace and stood up, rifled through his desk drawers and finally returned with a photograph. "Here," he said softly, handing it to Nick.
Nick looked down at the picture of Greg and a pretty blonde girl. "You're young," Nick said with a grin.
"That was my senior year of high school. Look at the girl. Do you know her?"
Nick shook his head. "No. She's pretty, though."
"Beautiful," Greg said.
Nick nodded. Beautiful was a fair assessment of the girl leaning against Greg in the photograph, her hand on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. She had sharp green eyes and long blonde hair. She was wearing a tank top that showed off her tanned shoulders and jeans that hugged her slim, curvy body.
"That's Tweet."
Nick looked up at Greg quickly, then back down at the photograph. He didn't know how to reconcile her pink cheeks and lively eyes with the pale, gaunt woman he'd met in San Francisco, even if he mentally replaced the photograph girl's shiny blonde locks with Tweet's dirty half-dreadlocked pigtails.
"Most people called her Amy then," Greg said, sitting back down next to Nick. "I was the only person who called her Tweet. Short for Tweety-Bird, her favorite cartoon character."
Nick smiled slightly. "I thought it had something to do with tweaking."
Greg shook his head. "I was in love with her my entire life."
"She was your girlfriend?"
"No. She was Marco's girl. She was always Marco's girl, ever since we were kids. I was just her best friend." He took the picture from Nick's hand and gazed at it for a long time. "I thought it was romantic. Saving her. I helped her kick a hundred times in college. She disappeared once, and her parents suspected she was in New York so I went after her. Took me months, but I found her. And I got her clean and brought her home. Every time I thought she'd finally see me, but she never did. Every time she went back to Marco and no matter how hard they tried to stay clean they didn't. I couldn't save her, Nick, no matter how much I loved her."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. That I don't need saving. That you couldn't save me even if I did."
"I don't want to save you," Nick whispered. "That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?"
Nick sighed and looked down at his hands. "I'm lost," he whispered. "I'm tired of the bars, of anonymous sex, of not having anyone who knows who I am. I want more, didn't even know how much I wanted until I kissed you. I always thought it was either work or love, and I chose work. It was all right. It wasn't always great, but it was all right. Until you, I didn't know what I was missing and I know I can't go back to that life."
He looked up into Greg's eyes, cupped Greg's cheek in his hand. "You're wrong, you know. About love not being able to save people. Because I'm pretty sure you saved me."
Greg's hand was trembling when he reached out, but it wasn't the bad anxious trembling he'd had in the lab. He gripped Nick's shoulder and closed his eyes, leaned forward so their faces were less than an inch apart. "How do you do that?" he demanded, though his voice was a shaky whisper.
"Do what?" Nick asked, sliding his thumb across the curve of Greg's ear.
"Break me into a million pieces with only the words you say."
"I…I don't mean to," Nick stammered.
Greg shook his head and pulled Nick close and kissed him over and over again, kissed his mouth and his cheeks and his eyelids. "It's not a bad thing," Greg whispered as he breathed in Nick's scent, breathed in Nick's breath. "It scares the shit out of me, though, the way you can say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because I want to believe you."
"Then believe me."
Greg nodded and nuzzled his face into his favorite spot, the spot right where Nick's neck met his jaw, and he clung to Nick as he cried. The tears were all right, though. They were tears of relief and happiness and only a little fear. Nick cried, too, and they held each other even after the tears had stopped, even after their cheeks had dried, even after the lights of the aquarium switched from moonlight, to dawn, to day.
Title: One Good Man – Part Eleven
Category: angst, romance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Greg and Nick carry on.
Nick was kissing him. Nick's warm, strong mouth was over his, teasing his lips open, tasting his mouth and taking everything Greg could give, his kisses and his moans and his hands frantic in Nick's short hair, down his muscled back to his ass, that tight perfect ass that made him quiver just to think about.
And then he was kneeling, taking Nick's cock in his mouth and the taste and the smell and the sensation as Nick gripped his hair tight and thrust his hips, fucked Greg's willing mouth, shoved his cock right down Greg's throat. And, Christ, he didn't think he'd ever get tired of Nick's strength, the way he could just grab him and position him any way he wanted, the way he could meet Greg's strength with his own and hold on to him so tight that small finger-tip shaped bruises formed on his arms and his shoulders and his hips.
He wanted it, needed it, he was kissing Nick again and grinding against him, trying to grind up against him, he knew Nick was right there, so close, but he couldn't reach him, couldn't touch him, needed to feel Nick's body against his own but he was so far away and—
He woke up arching against nothing but air. He reached down between his legs and he was so hard it only took a few strokes before he was coming, drops of cum landing on his stomach, his chest, even in his hair.
His entire body was sticky with sweat and the sheets were damp against his skin. It was one in the morning. He'd slept for far too long. He pushed himself up, the bedroom completely dark since the aquarium light had switched from day to dusk to moonlight, but he didn't need to see to stumble into the bathroom and turn on the shower.
The light hurt his eyes but the cool water felt amazing on his skin and he stood under its spray for a few minutes, still wobbly from climax and groggy from the aftereffects of the Xanax.
He was naked when he stepped out of the bathroom, and he felt around in the dark for his closet light and switched it on before pulling on a clean pair of boxers and a worn t-shirt that said "Never Lick the Spoon."
He opened his bedroom door and shuffled down the hall, scratching the back of his neck where his scars sometimes itched. He hated the slightly hungover feeling Xanax gave him, which was one of the reasons he didn't like to take it. His hands weren't shaking but he didn't know if it was because he was better or if there was some of the drug left in his system.
"Hey," came a soft voice from the darkness of the living room.
Greg gasped and fumbled for the hall light and when he saw Nick sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa he said, "Jesus! Don't you know not to sneak up on people like that?"
"Since I was sitting here first," Nick said, "technically, you snuck up on me."
"I could have shot you, you know."
"You don't carry a gun, Greg."
"No, but I own one."
"Guess you've got as good a reason as anybody to stick a gun in my face," Nick said as Greg headed towards the kitchen. Then, "You own a gun?"
"I kind of have to be weapons certified if I want to get into the field full time."
Nick didn't say anything as Greg dumped out the pot of cold coffee, rinsed it, threw away the filter and used grounds.
"Are you a good shot?" Nick asked finally.
"I'm a great shot," Greg said. "Surprised?"
Nick shook his head. "No. You're good at everything you do."
Greg filled the coffee pot with fresh grounds and cold water, then switched it on. He brushed the sugar off the counter into his hand and dropped it in the sink. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Shouldn't you be at work?"
"I switched nights with Warrick. He didn't mind. He prefers Saturdays off, anyway."
Greg watched the coffee brew, poured himself a cup when the pot was half full. He made a big show of dumping two spoonfuls of sugar into it and he hoped it made Nick feel like shit.
"Coffee?" he asked Nick before taking a swig.
Nick shook his head. "I've been sitting here since you fell asleep," he said softly, "thinking. I didn't want to leave because I knew you wouldn't let me in again."
Greg didn't argue with him, just took another sip of coffee. He could feel a slight tremor in his left hand, but it wasn't bad. It wasn't noticeable to anyone but himself. He doubted the coffee would help. "You've been sitting in the dark for…" he looked at the clock. "Fifteen hours?" Something about that made him feel strangely giddy.
"I slept some. And it didn't get dark until eleven. I think the light in your aquarium burned out."
"I have it on a timer. It's supposed to do that."
"Your neighbor lady came by around six, wanted to see how you were. She fed the fish and brought over baby cucumbers. They're in the fridge."
"Did she feed the ones in my room, too?"
Nick nodded. "I checked on you first to make sure you hadn't thrown the covers off or anything. She asked if I was your young man."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I hoped to be." He looked down at his hands. "I don't blame you for hating me." His voice was choked with tears.
"I don't hate you."
Nick looked up and the expression in his eyes was hopeful even though tears were dripping down his cheeks.
"I want to hate you. I wish I did hate you. I'm pissed as hell, but I don't hate you."
"Can you forgive me?"
Greg looked at him for a long moment. Nick was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. He was a good lover, an amazing kisser, his words tender and honey sweet. Sweet until he chose to turn them to vinegar and use them to sting.
"I don't know," Greg admitted.
"I made a mistake."
"You accused me of being a liar. You questioned my devotion to my job, my trustworthiness as a scientist, my whole fucking worth, Nick. You made it clear that you don't think very much of me. You never did."
"That's not true."
"You could have asked me. I would have been pissed, sure, but not like this. I could have forgiven you if you'd just asked."
Nick sniffed back his tears, then sighed shakily. "I'm no good at this. I'm not good at anything new, anything I haven't done before or seen before. I don't know why I didn't ask you except that maybe there's a part of me that's scared of the things you did in the past, that's scared of the fact that you're not the guy I thought you were."
Greg set his mug down on the counter hard enough to slosh coffee over the side.
"Not in a bad way," Nick said quickly. "That's not what I meant. It's just…I had you in this box in my head, and then you just demolished everything I thought I knew. You weren't supposed to be this great guy that I fell in love with. You weren't supposed to be amazing in bed or do all those things you talked about—latex and surfing and hot sex with beautiful blondes. You were just supposed to be this nerdy guy in the lab that I never really looked at very long, that spent his days off playing chess or going to Star Trek conventions, that didn't know what I was doing when I flirted with him."
"So you did know you were flirting." Greg hated the little thrill that blossomed in the pit of his stomach at the thought.
"Of course I knew I was flirting. Not in any serious way, just as, you know, something to do. I didn't know you were flirting back."
"You thought I was nerdy?"
"Until I really looked at you."
Greg sighed, crossed the room, sat on the floor next to Nick and leaned back against the couch. "Just so you know, Hodges broke after less than five hours."
"He told you I asked him to analyze something off the record?"
"No. He told Archie, who told Bobby, who told Doc Robbins, who told David, who told Sara hoping to impress her, who told Catherine, who told Jacqui, who told me. But I already knew, since he used the mass spec to analyze it and hunched his shoulders as if protecting government secrets any time I came within five feet. If you need something done off the record, you don't go to Hodges."
"So the entire lab knows," Nick said.
"By now day shift probably knows, too. And anybody who was off last night."
Nick rubbed his hands over his face. "Do they know why?"
"Bobby thinks it has something to do with your fear of carbs and Jacqui thinks you're afraid you're being poisoned by the baristas at Spirit Café."
"And everybody else?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. That's all Jacqui told me. I think Hodges suspects something, though. I'm pretty sure he knows that I use that kind of sugar, and the fact that you went to him instead of me didn't help."
Nick let out a soft laugh that let Greg know he didn't think any of it was funny. "So we're fucked."
"No. It's all speculation. Besides, it's not like we're together anymore."
Nick took another shaky breath. "You won't give me another chance?"
"I don't know if I can." Greg felt the ache build in the back of his throat and he tried to swallow it, but the tears spilled over anyway. He closed his eyes when Nick touched his face and he didn't want to, but he leaned into Nick's caress.
"Whatever it takes I'll do it," Nick whispered, sliding his fingers through Greg's hair. "I'll be here for as long it takes you to trust me again."
Greg tilted his head up. "Just kiss me."
Nick's mouth was hot, his lips gentle, his fingers stroking Greg's cheeks and his neck, tracing along the edges of the scars that emerged past the collar of his shirt.
His tears mingled with Nick's as he pressed their cheeks together. "Why can't I just hate you?" he whispered, reaching up to slide his fingers through Nick's hair.
Nick didn't answer, just shifted so that his arm was around Greg's shoulders.
"This would be easier if I didn't love you so damn much."
"Then I'm glad it's not easy." Nick pulled back and gazed into Greg's eyes. He brushed Greg's lower lip with his thumb. "Where do we go from here?"
"We try again, I guess. I can't guarantee anything. I can't say that I'll ever completely forgive you."
"All I need is a chance."
Greg smiled. He loved that about Nick, that optimist streak in him that wouldn't die no matter how much cruelty and evil he saw. He believed the best in everyone. Everyone but Greg.
"What?" Nick asked, and Greg knew he must have given something away in his eyes.
"What would you have done?" he asked softly. "If it had been drugs. If I had been lying to you, using, making every shred of evidence I handled useless? What were you going to do?"
"Help you," Nick said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"How?"
"Greg, why does this even matter?"
"I just want to know. Would you have gone to Grissom?"
"No. Only as a last resort. Only if I couldn't do it on my own."
"How would you have gotten me to stop?"
Nick shrugged. "I don't know. I would have talked to you, I guess."
"And if I wouldn't stop?"
"I'd just keep loving you, keep trying."
"Love can't save people, Nick," Greg said. "Love doesn't solve anything." He pulled away from Nick's embrace and stood up, rifled through his desk drawers and finally returned with a photograph. "Here," he said softly, handing it to Nick.
Nick looked down at the picture of Greg and a pretty blonde girl. "You're young," Nick said with a grin.
"That was my senior year of high school. Look at the girl. Do you know her?"
Nick shook his head. "No. She's pretty, though."
"Beautiful," Greg said.
Nick nodded. Beautiful was a fair assessment of the girl leaning against Greg in the photograph, her hand on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. She had sharp green eyes and long blonde hair. She was wearing a tank top that showed off her tanned shoulders and jeans that hugged her slim, curvy body.
"That's Tweet."
Nick looked up at Greg quickly, then back down at the photograph. He didn't know how to reconcile her pink cheeks and lively eyes with the pale, gaunt woman he'd met in San Francisco, even if he mentally replaced the photograph girl's shiny blonde locks with Tweet's dirty half-dreadlocked pigtails.
"Most people called her Amy then," Greg said, sitting back down next to Nick. "I was the only person who called her Tweet. Short for Tweety-Bird, her favorite cartoon character."
Nick smiled slightly. "I thought it had something to do with tweaking."
Greg shook his head. "I was in love with her my entire life."
"She was your girlfriend?"
"No. She was Marco's girl. She was always Marco's girl, ever since we were kids. I was just her best friend." He took the picture from Nick's hand and gazed at it for a long time. "I thought it was romantic. Saving her. I helped her kick a hundred times in college. She disappeared once, and her parents suspected she was in New York so I went after her. Took me months, but I found her. And I got her clean and brought her home. Every time I thought she'd finally see me, but she never did. Every time she went back to Marco and no matter how hard they tried to stay clean they didn't. I couldn't save her, Nick, no matter how much I loved her."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
Greg shrugged. "I don't know. That I don't need saving. That you couldn't save me even if I did."
"I don't want to save you," Nick whispered. "That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?"
Nick sighed and looked down at his hands. "I'm lost," he whispered. "I'm tired of the bars, of anonymous sex, of not having anyone who knows who I am. I want more, didn't even know how much I wanted until I kissed you. I always thought it was either work or love, and I chose work. It was all right. It wasn't always great, but it was all right. Until you, I didn't know what I was missing and I know I can't go back to that life."
He looked up into Greg's eyes, cupped Greg's cheek in his hand. "You're wrong, you know. About love not being able to save people. Because I'm pretty sure you saved me."
Greg's hand was trembling when he reached out, but it wasn't the bad anxious trembling he'd had in the lab. He gripped Nick's shoulder and closed his eyes, leaned forward so their faces were less than an inch apart. "How do you do that?" he demanded, though his voice was a shaky whisper.
"Do what?" Nick asked, sliding his thumb across the curve of Greg's ear.
"Break me into a million pieces with only the words you say."
"I…I don't mean to," Nick stammered.
Greg shook his head and pulled Nick close and kissed him over and over again, kissed his mouth and his cheeks and his eyelids. "It's not a bad thing," Greg whispered as he breathed in Nick's scent, breathed in Nick's breath. "It scares the shit out of me, though, the way you can say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because I want to believe you."
"Then believe me."
Greg nodded and nuzzled his face into his favorite spot, the spot right where Nick's neck met his jaw, and he clung to Nick as he cried. The tears were all right, though. They were tears of relief and happiness and only a little fear. Nick cried, too, and they held each other even after the tears had stopped, even after their cheeks had dried, even after the lights of the aquarium switched from moonlight, to dawn, to day.
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Re: <3
Date: 2004-08-23 05:58 pm (UTC)