nickngreg | Ficlet thing (Reply)

Boredom in a hotel room leads to a little ficlet (it's only about 400 words long). Enjoy!

Title: Channel Surfing
Author: Quettaser
Rating: PG-13 (there's one curse word)
Summary: Greg gets bored with channel surfing.

“Crappy movie, crappy movie, seen it, seen it, ugh, never want to see it, commercial, another crappy movie, something with a duck, commercial.”

“You talking to yourself, Greg?” asked Nick from the bedroom where he was currently putting away laundry.

“No, talking to the TV,” sighed Greg, tossing the remote down in frustration. Then he wished he hadn’t, because the commercials had ended and Titanic was on and if DiCaprio wasn’t dying, there wasn’t any point in watching.

“Is it talking back?”

“Not yet.” Greg pushed himself up off the couch and went to go see Nick. He walked into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around Nick’s waist from behind, laying his cheek on his back. “Make the TV be nice to me.”

“I thought I told you that I gave up all my magical powers when I left Texas,” said Nick, who was still diligently folding and putting away laundry, despite Greg’s grip on him.

“I don’t think you gave all of them up,” replied Greg, moving so that he faced Nick, a hand trailing along his jaw. He pulled Nick’s head down for a soft, slow kiss. “I think that’s still pretty magical.”

“Mmmhmm,” murmured Nick, against Greg’s lips, before diving in for another deep kiss. They lost themselves in the kiss, tongues and lips dancing their familiar dance. Laundry forgotten, they maneuvered themselves to the bed, hands seeking out heated skin, legs tangling together. They barely split apart for air, needing each other closer. But they had to break apart for a moment when Greg pulled Nick’s shirt off. Taking advantage of his freed mouth, Nick asked, “Did you leave the TV on?”

“You’re not supposed to be thinking about appliances when you’re making out with me,” chastised Greg, pulling his own shirt off. “Just leave it on, it’s not hurting anyone.” Greg leaned down, fusing their mouths together again, but he could tell that Nick wasn’t placing all of his attentions on Greg’s mouth. “Fuck,” he sighed, “I’ll go turn it off.”

He clambered off Nick and dashed back out to the living room shivering because he had left Nick’s warmth and his shirt behind. He giggled a little at the sight of a drowning Jack on the screen and went in search of the tossed remote. He looked around, but couldn’t find it fast enough for his trembling body, so he settled for hitting the power button on the TV, mumbling to himself, “The things I do in this house to get laid…”