nickngreg | It Ends Tonight Chapter Four

Summary: After a terrible incident at a crime scene one night, Nick must help Greg stay on his feet. But, in the aftermath of that night, Nick realizes that he's the one who's falling. Now it's up to Greg to help him accept it.

Read chapters one, two and three here

Don't you want to come with me? Don't you want to feel my bones on your bones?
It's only natural.

"Here," Greg passed one of the coffee mugs to Nick, and sat down next to him on the sofa, tucking his feet under his body. He held his own mug with both hands. He stared at the wall, took a sip. Felt the heat slip down his throat.

He'd been in a daze, and now all of a sudden, embarrassment spread through him like a fire. He couldn't believe Nick had seen him like that. How could he have lost control of himself so entirely?

But it had all felt so real. And waking up, in the middle of the night, in the dark, all alone—there was nothing to remind him of what was reality and what was just a dream.

In hindsight, the fact that he was in Nick's house should have been the first clue that Nick was alive and alright. But, how was it that waking up in Nick's guest room, finding his way to the bathroom in the dark had seemed so natural, like he had been living there for more than just a week?

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What was wrong with him? How would he fix this?

"You know," Nick put his mug down on the coffee table. "We shouldn't be drinking this. Shift won't start for hours; we could still catch some sleep."

"I'll have yours if you don't want it," Greg said quietly.

"Don't you think you should at least be trying to catch up on your sleep," Nick said testily.

Greg turned to Nick, and hissed. "Don't patronize me, Stokes." What the fuck do you know about losing sleep, Mr. point-a-gun-at-me-see-if-I-care?

Nick sighed. "I'm sorry, Greg, but really, don't get so defensive. Can't you see I'm only trying to help?" He said without heat.

"You do," Greg looked away, frowning. "You do help. I guess—and I'm trying to be honest here—I guess, I'm just not used to it."

Nick touched Greg's hand. "Not used to being helped?"

"I'm not used to this," Greg turned to Nick, pushing his hand against Nick's chest. He shook his head, unable to express himself. "It's not like I've never loved anyone before, Nick. It's just that... it's never been so serious. Sober. There's no fluttering giddiness, just..."

"But aren't we supposed to be happy, Greg?" Nick wrapped his fingers around the wrist of Greg's hand on his chest. But he didn't push it away. "Drunk, instead of sober."

Greg's eyes softened, a surge of affection putting his longing to rest. "It that what you're afraid of? That you won't be happy?" He leaned closer, pressing harder against Nick's chest—constricted now, and not because of the pressure of Greg's hand.

His eyes are moons, Nick thought. No. No, Stars. They've always had their own light.

"There are a lot of things that scare me, Greg," Nick tightened his grasp on Greg's wrist, as the younger man leaned dangerously close, his motives now unmistakable.

"I can make you happy, Nick," Greg murmured, pressing Nick into the couch, so that the older man was lying down. He leaned over Nick, half on top of him, and pressed his lips to the older man's.

Nick closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, steadying himself. But Greg's lips just brushed over his, long and light, surprising Nick into submission. When the younger man pulled away, Nick was touched by the gentleness in Greg's gaze.

Greg held himself over Nick's body, one knee between the older man's thighs. Despite the proximity, the two men didn't quite touch, and between them was only a gentle ache—nothing like the awful longing they had felt before.

"Have you ever been with a man before?" Greg whispered. "Have you ever felt... this before?" Greg placed his hand low on Nick's stomach. His eyes, smoldering hot, still held Nick's gaze.

Nick nodded, clearing his throat. "A few times...But only twice all the way."

Greg smiled faintly. His hand moved south and Nick jumped. Greg withdrew his hand, and frowned. "Then why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not, Greg. It's just..." Nick sighed, then propped himself up on his elbows and kissed Greg lightly. "Look: you said we could talk. So... can we?"

Greg moved backwards, leaning against the arm of the couch opposite Nick. He watched Nick for a moment. "Well?" He asked impatiently, after a while. "Why did you run after we kissed? Isn't that what started this mess?"

Nick looked confused for a moment, then irritated. "Greg, that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Greg looked confused, but after a moment realization dawned on him, and with it, irritation. "Look, Nick," he said finally. "You know, as well as I do, that the only way to get back to normal life after… Well, you've just got to start living, that's all. And I'm trying to, believe me I can. But I can't. I can't because I don't want my normal life. I want… you. I want you in my life, and only you can make that decision."

"You don't get it, Greg," Nick said, shaking his head. "And I guess I thought you would," he paused, hesitated. "What did you feel when you watched me put a gun in my mouth?"

Greg spluttered, shocked, and unable to answer.

"Did you love me then, Greg? Even if you didn't, even if you thought of us as just friends—oh, well forget what you felt, what did you do?"

Greg didn't answer. What did he do? Nothing. He couldn't do anything, think anything, feelanything.

Had he loved Nick then? What that the ache he felt in his very soul?

"You gave me space, right Greg? You were scared, you didn't know what to do, so you gave me space.

"But what I don't understand, is what the fuck am I supposed to do, when you are begging for help and then pushing me away? How can I give you space and comfort at the same time, Greg? And how can I commit myself to you, when you're not even you right now?

Greg stared at him, shocked and hurt. Tears welled in his eyes, and he rubbed them away angrily. He stood up, turning away from Nick, and speaking hurtfully. "Oh, I don't know, Nicky. I don't know what's wrong with me, what's going on. I don't know anymore, how to deal with this alone, when something inside me turns to you for help," Greg sniffed. "But I don't know how to let you help me, either. I'm just so used to making it alone."

"Well," Greg jumping, hearing Nick's voice right behind him. Nick grasped his wrist, and turned him around. "You could start by not hiding from me."

Greg blinked back tears, taking a shaky breath. "Nick, I need you to tell me that you're in this for real. I need, reassurance, I guess."

Nick paused. "So do I, Greg. I can't... I can't do this unless I know for sure you want this—"

"Nick, I—"

"No. Listen. Please. How can I know for sure, how do you know for sure, that it's not just fear talking? That you don't only want me because you've just been... shocked into remembering just how mortal you are, and you're afraid to die alone?"

Greg opened and closed his mouth, lost for words. "I don't know," he said, his own admission frustrating him. Helpless. Fucking helpless.

"Well... I do. Greg, the only way to know to sure, is to make this all go away. Everything that happened to you that night, just leave it behind in the past. You can't forget; I know that. We've both been though that fear. But... I just don't think it's reassurance from me that you need. If you think I can make everything better, than I know I'll disappoint you. And if that happens... what could I do to fix us?"

"Oh, I don't know, Nick," Greg grasped Nick's elbows. "Do we really have to worry about all that right now?"

Nick sighed, frustrated. "Yes, Greg! Yes, we do! You…you don't understand! This is so easy for you!"

"Hey," Greg covered Nick's mouth with his palm. His eyes flashed angrily. "How it is easy for me?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice level. "What makes this easy on me?"

Nick pulled away violently, aggravated by Greg's cold, controlled tone. "Because I can make things better for you! Because—this," he gestured between the two of them, "this gives you an escape from everything you're going through! This is the easiest fucking choice for you!"

Greg stood, stunned. He didn't know what to say, how to say it. His voice sounded strange to him ears, idiotic. "So it would be so terrible for you to have to be with me right? So hard. But how could I possibly understand, right? After all it's so easyfor me! Easy knowing that I'm dependent on someone elseto be happy. That..." his words dried up, and he clenched his jaw. "I can't just strip away what I am, Nick. I can't just... stop being independent, just like that. And that's what's happening. Whatever we have... it's stripping everything away. And that's not easy."

Nick said nothing, ashamed of what he had said. But he meant it, and that only made him feel guiltier.

"Nick," Greg said coolly, steeling himself. "Do you not want to be with me? Is that why you're saying all of this?"

Nick spluttered. Honestly, he didn't know. And he hadn't expected that. Do you not want to be with me? It was the first time any of them had said it directly. Be with me. "No, that's not—Greg—oh I don't know! I want you, but I can't understand what it is that makesme want you! And I can't... I can't do this if I can't grasp that."

Greg stepped forwards, his anger leaving him with a sigh. He stroked Nick's forehead, pushing back his hair. "I can't even stay mad at you, anymore," he said ruefully. "One second I'm furious, and the next..." He smiled gently, looking into Nick's troubled face. "Who needs reasons? Forget about the goddamn reasons. Just tell me what you want, Nicky."

"I want to touch you."

"Then touch."

Nick slid his hand underneath Greg's t-shirt, brushing his hipbone. "I want... to protect you."

Greg corrected him gently. "Well, you can't. Not all the time. I don't want you to protect me... but it seems like I need you to anyway. So… sometimes. You can protect me... sometimes."

"Greg... I want..."

"Kiss me."

"Okay."

Greg sighed, muting the television and turning to Nick seriously. He pursed his lips and sat cross-legged on the sofa. They had spent the last hour or so watching Animal Planet in comfortable silence. Nick was surprised that Greg was about to start what appeared to be a serious conversation.

"Nick, I don't know how to fix this, cause I don't know what's wrong," Greg said seriously, his voice grave and low. He ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed. "I didn't want to make such a big deal out of this," he mumbled, "so I'm just gonna... say it and get it over with, okay? And then this isn't going to have any control over me anymore."

Nick nodded; Greg looked so earnest that he didn't have the heart to remind Greg that it wasn't that easy to get over what happened to him.

"I just don't get it," Greg went on, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "I wasn't hurt. I didn't do anything wrong. I know that. I know it's not my fault. So I just don't get what's wrong. I—" he licked his lips. "I don't know what all these dreams are about either. They're driving me crazy, and… I guess I'm just trying to get out of this medication free."

Greg looked up at Nick, but the older man said nothing. His mind was blank; he didn't know what he could say to that.

"I'm sorry," Greg said with a smile. He reached out and put his hand on Nick's. "I shouldn't be bothering you with this. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to fix this."

"I don't think I can," Nick said honestly.

"Well, neither can I," Greg stopped short, then mumbled almost to himself. "I think too much. If I could just stop thinking about it, I wouldn't have to be so..."

"So what?"

"Scared," Greg breathed out, looking Nick in the eye. He swallowed thickly, but said nothing more.

Nick leaned forwards. He bent his head, and kissed Greg gently before pulling away.

Greg grinned, then started laughing at his own response. "What was that for?"

Nick shrugged, smiling smugly despite himself. "You needed it."

Greg shook his head, still smiling. "I may never get used to this."

"Well, you should start on that."

"How 'bout," Greg murmured, moving closer, "You lemme get started on something else."

"Like what," Nick rasped out, his words drowned out in a kiss.

"What do you think?" Greg said with a laugh, sliding his hand under Nick's shirt and over his chest.

"I think," Nick said, grabbing Greg's hand. "That we were trying to have a serious conversation."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Why can't you just do this with me for once?"

Nick pushed him away. "We haven't sorted anything out, Greg! That's what we're supposed to be doing!"

Greg sighed. "Okay, we'll sort everything out right now," he paused, clasped his hands together and said emotionlessly. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Nick said, baffled.

"Are you still in the closet?"

Nick blinked, and stumbled over his words. "A-are you?"

"No," Greg said, then reconsidered. "Well, not exactly."

"Who knows?"

Greg shrugged. "Practically everyone I knew in Cisco. My parents, Sara... I don't dole out the information, but if someone I trust asks, then..." He took a deep breath and reached out for Nick's hand. "I don't hide it, Nick. And if you do, I—"

"Shut up for a second would you?" Nick said, voice strained and startled. "Just... No one knows, okay? Not even my mum, but... that's because there hasn't been any reason to tell anyone! There hasn't been anyone—any man—to introduce."

Greg looked away. "And if there was?"

Nick shrugged, and said plainly. "Well, I'd have no choice but to tell people."

Greg hesitated for a moment, and then laughed with relief. "Thank god you feel that way. No other choice. My lord, you really are something," he grabbed Nick's face in his hands and kissed him.

Nick laughed, relief bubbling in his chest. "Do you interrogate all your prospective boyfriends like this?"

"No," Greg snorted. "Usually my mother does that for me... So what do you say we stop talking, stop planning, and start... making out?"

Nick laughed, tracing Greg's jaw with his fingers. "Actually, as usual, you're still avoiding what I really want to talk to you about."

Greg closed his eyes, and sighed. "You're not really helping me relax you know? I just want to stop thinking about it."

"Well, maybe that's your problem! If you refuse to think about it, you can't sort it out!"

"I don't know how to sort it out! So I'm just going to get over it!" Greg said angrily.

"Stop acting like if you spend one second wallowing in your sorrow you're going to explode! There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable. Why don't ya just accept that this is hurting you and it's not going to get better for a while?"

"Why don't you just accept that I'm making it better?"

"You're not."

"Well, I'm trying to okay," Greg hissed out angrily. "So why don't you just... just shut the fuck up!"

To silence him, Greg lunged forwards, capturing his lips. "Why won't you just let me do this? Why won't you just... What are you afraidof?"

"I-I don't know!" Nick pushed Greg off of him and stood. He raked his hands through his hair. "Don't you feel weirddoing all of this?"

"No," Greg said with an unbelieving laugh. "No, I don't."

"I've known you for eleven years," Nick said, "And all of a sudden to want to know you like that. It's so... confusing."

Greg slumped, his hands clasped between his knees. "You really need to understand, don't you? You really need this to make sense before you can act on it?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Yes," he said apologetically.

"Well," Greg spread his hands. "I can't explain it to you... But, I can tell you how it was for me." Nick nodded and Greg went on. "It's not like you're thinking. It didn't just spring out of nothing. But... there was always something between us, Nick, before we even knew what it was. Something that... separated us. Why do you think we were never best friends? Sure, you knew Warrick long before you knew me, but... Sara and I, you and Warrick—there was something sodifferent about those relationships... because we were never meant to be best friends. We were always... something different.

"There was something playful about us, wasn't there?" Greg asked, and encouraged by Nick's nod, he went on. "Like... we were experimenting the whole time, without even knowing it. And somehow we... we were comfortable, you know? Without having to say anything, or do anything, we were just comfortable around each other. And that... that set the groundwork, ya know? That's what made me think, okay, this can happen. 'Cause we have the background. And knowing that, you can't possibly say that this is something so new, something you've never felt before. What do you say, Nick? With this sorta friendship backing us up, what else could be possibly need?"

Nick was silent for a while, then: "Why now? Why did we pursue it now?"

Greg shrugged. "I dunno. We were both missing something in our lives, and I guess we're old enough to realize that sometimes love isn't exciting and new and dramatic. Sometimes it's just... there. You get that don't you?

"Yeah," Nick said. "Sure I do. You—you make it sound so simple. Like..." Nick paused, realizing, with a rush, that it was that simple. There was nothing for them to do, nothing they were risking. And that's what he wanted—that risk-free, comfortable intimacy.

"Like what, Nick?" Greg asked before Nick could voice his thoughts. "You're the one who started this. Youfollowed me into the locker room, you touched me. So why'd you do that huh? Why'd you pursue it?"

Nick was silent for a long time, just thinking. "You were... you, you needed something, Greg, something that I didn't have. And all I could give you, all that I had was... was me, and-and you looked like you needed that. Needed... comfort. You let me give it to you too for the first time—hell, the only time. For all your talk, Greg, you're even more closed off than I am. You do know that, right?"

Greg looked embarrassed. "It's who I am," he mumbled, half-apologetically.

"I know," Nick soothed. "You've been coddled by your mother your whole life, and now you... you crave personal space. But I'm a natural comforter. It's who I am," he echoed Greg. "And you let me comfort you, Greg... and it, it made me feel useful for once."

"But why'd you come looking for me, anyway? Why'd you follow me into the locker room?"

"You said... you said you needed closure. And I wanted to give it to you."

"Closure!" Greg said emphatically, slamming his hand onto his desk. "That's what I need! That's what he deserves. Don't you get that?"

"I do, Greg," Nick said, his accent thick. He reached for Greg, but the younger man pulled out of his grasp. Greg turned away, running nervous hands through his hair. "Come on, man, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"He doesn't even have a name," Greg said icily, turning around and jabbing Nick in the chest. "I don't even know his godforsaken name! What is he then? Lost boy? John fucking Doe? I just—" He closed his eyes. "I need you to do this for me, Nicky. If you can just do this, then it'll all be over."

"I want to, believe me I do," Nick sighed, frustrated and helpless. "But I can't. It wasn't my call, or Catherine's for that matter. Think like a CSI, man: the shooter was dead, the kid had no ID on him, there were no hits in CODIS or AFIS, no missing kids who fit the profile. The case was closed man. I couldn't keep it open any longer."

"But," Greg stumbled over his words. "If I just knew who he was... If he just had some sorta family I could talk to, apologize to... I'd..."

Nick moved towards Greg, eyeing him like he was a spooked animal. Gingerly, he reached out and clasped Greg's shoulder. "I know," he said soothingly. "I know. But you can't. And it's hard, I know, but it's going to be okay. Everything's going to sort itself out."

"So that's it," Greg choked out, hopelessness bubbling up in his chest. "It's over? We're not even going to try?"

"We can't," Nick let him down gently. "Not anymore."

Greg pulled away from Nick. He looked away, his face twisting in an angry, naked pain. He backed away hesitantly, reaching for the door behind him. "I've got to go, Nick. I-I have to... get myself together."

He walked out of the break room. Nick watched his progress down the hallway, head down, movement quick and stiff. He had already turned the corner into the locker room when Nick thought to follow him. Nick walked down the hallway purposefully, trying to move as slowly as he could, so he wouldn't attract unwanted attention.

He closed the door behind him. "Greg?"

Greg looked up at him from the bench, eyes wide and unveiled. He looked shocked, unprepared—like he wanted to hide but couldn't.

"Greg," Nick said again, "Oh Greg." He should have known. He should have known how much this would hurt Greg, how much he needed this. "I'm sorry."

He sat down next to Greg on the bench. "Everything's going to be okay, Greg."

"I am okay," Greg said emphatically. He wouldn't meet Nicks' gaze.

"We'll figure everything out," Nick continued soothingly, like Greg hadn't even spoken.

"I'm fine," Greg insisted. "I—"

Nick's hand closed around his mouth. "Shh," he said.

Greg's shocked gaze flickered to his and then he turned his face away, tearing Nick's hand off his mouth. "Just leave it be, Nick."

"Greg," Nick stuttered out. He put his hand on Greg's thigh. "Greg, just look at me."

So he did.

Nick kicked his pants off. "Your turn." His voice sounded strangled and stark. A blush spread across his neck and face, and he shivered as a gust of cold, air-conditioned air swept over his mostly naked body.

For a moment, Greg just stared from his position on Nick's bed. The older man stood by the window, grey in the moonlight. He was clad only in boxers. For a long time Greg was silent, just watching. He pushed himself up on his elbows to get a better look. All tanned body and strong arms. Curves.

Greg swallowed thickly, chest hot and tight with longing. Reaching trembling hands behind his head, he grabbed the neck of his t-shirt, and pulled it over his head. For a moment, he could hardly breathe. The t-shirt was stuck over his head, and he fumbled, shaky and anxious with anticipation. After what felt like forever, he was free. He gulped in a huge breath of air.

He looked at Nick, wide-eyed, but the older man's searing gaze was on his chest. Greg's ears burned hot, and he hunched slightly, his chest forming a hollow 'C'. Nick inhaled sharply, and took a step closer, then stopped. Waited.

Greg lay back on the bed, closed his eyes. He flicked open the button of his jeans, tore down the zip-then hesitated.

"Go on."

Pressing his weight down on his head and shoulders, Greg arched off the bed and slid his jeans off. He stared up at the ceiling, then his eyes flickered to Nick's. The older man met his gaze squarely, and Greg knew Nick was waiting for him.

He got up onto his knees, and crawled to the edge of the bed. Nick followed his movements like a hawk, eyes sharp and focussed. Greg swung his legs over the side of the bed, and pressed his bare feet to the warm hardwood floor. "C'mere," he called to Nick gruffly.

Nick strode towards him, forgetting his embarrassment. He bent his head, pressed fervent lips against Greg's. Greg spread his legs, wrapping them around Nick's knees. He grabbed Nick's shoulders and pulled backwards, falling back onto the bed with the older man on top of him.

Nick laughed, stumbling, and falling between Greg's legs again. He crawled onto the bed, one knee between Greg's thighs and the other one on the outer side of Greg's leg. Greg wrapped his arms around Nick's neck and kissed him again, licking his bottom lip.

Nick opened his mouth, murmuring incoherently against Greg's lips. He slid his hand down Greg's flat sides, and all the way down to his waist. He continued down his thighs, sliding Greg's boxers down as well, but Greg pulled away.

"Not tonight," the younger man murmured, eyes full of longing, but hesitance as well. Nick nodded mutely. He could understand that.

Greg reached up again and pressed open-mouthed kisses on his collarbone. He bit down, and Nick gasped. Shocked, his hand slid out from underneath him, and he fell from his propped up position.

The breath whooshed out of Greg as Nick crushed him, but he laughed breathlessly anyway. "Easy there," he said huskily, his voice stirring something in Nick. "Get off me."

Nick sat back on his haunches with a frown. "What's wrong?" he said, too loudly.

"Shhh," Greg said, voice still low, sultry. "Nothing. Just turning off my phone."

He sat up, and reached for his jeans near the foot of the bed. He took out his phone and switched it off. Nick too, stood and retrieved his phone from his pants on the floor.

Greg tossed his clothes to the floor, and slid under the blanket. "Close the curtains, Nick."

The room was washed in darkness. Greg watched as Nick, silhouetted and ghostlike, walked over to the bed. Nick paused next to him, and ran his fingers through Greg's thin, soft hair. Deep eyes glinted up at him.

Nick crawled over Greg to get to the other side of the bed, but froze when warm fingers fluttered against his hip.

"Nick?" Greg's said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Nick rasped. Greg's hand slid to the inside of his thigh, and he let his head drop heavily to his chest.

"You have any condoms?" Greg spoke almost inaudibly, like if his voice was any louder he would break.

"Yeah," Nick cleared his throat, then tried again. "Yeah, in the drawer next to you."

He heard Greg's breath behind him, audible. "Do you want to...?"

"Yes," Nick said breathily. "Yes I do." Greg didn't respond, and Nick grew nervous. "Should I turn on the light?"

Greg shook his head. Realizing Nick wasn't even looking at him, couldn't see him in the dark anyway, he whispered. "No."

Nick turned around, finally looking at Greg's shadowy, dark figure. "Get up."

Greg rose onto his elbows, and Nick slid a hand under him, resting it on the small of his back. He reached over Greg and fumbled in the drawer before pulling out a condom and lubricant.

"How do you want to do this?" Greg asked, and Nick's throat closed up with tears. This gentle, beautiful man, asking him. Oh God.

"I think I... would you mind terribly if...?" he stuttered.

"No. No, go ahead. I trust you."

"Okay."

Greg leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He felt Nick's hands at his waist, pulling down his boxers.

"You too," Greg rasped. "Even if we can't see... you too."

"Okay," Nick said softly. He pulled back, took off his boxers and tossed them to the floor. Greg's eyes were closed, and Nick smiled. "Open your eyes."

Greg's eyes fluttered open, and he looked, even though he could hardly see anything. Reaching out, he pressed felt his fingers against Nick, hot and rough. He swallowed dryly. "Okay. Let's do this."

Nick slid a pillow under his back. He heard foil tearing. Felt the cold shock of the lubricant against him. Nick's lips against his own, as he pushed slowly.

Greg wrapped his legs around Nick's waist, feeling their connection deep in his soul. He looked into Nick's eyes, felt the beauty of what they were doing. The pure, sacred intimacy. The... cleanness. There was something so sublime about this. Like the physical didn't matter. The pleasure didn't matter. This was something more.

Nick began to move gently. He felt weak with emotion. This had to last. He pressed his forehead against Greg's chest, inhaling the clean, crisp smell of Greg's soap. He felt the younger man's hands stringing through his hair. Greg hummed, and the sound echoed through his chest. Nick kept moving.

Nick rested against Greg, his movements swaying, gentle like the ocean. Greg closed his eyes, held Nick's head and allowed himself to be carried away with the tender rocking. After a while, Nick stopped moving. "Greg?" he called softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Greg whispered. "I'm great."

Nick lifted his head and kissed Greg softly. He rested his forehead on the bed, pressing the side of his head against Greg's.

"It's enough," Greg murmured in his ear, and he nodded.

He pulled out gently, tossing the unnecessary condom onto the floor. He lay down next to Greg, and pulled the covers over them. He said nothing, couldn't think of anything to say. Something sacred was passing between them, something silent. He pressed his ear against Greg's chest, felt his breathing, felt fingers in his hair.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He felt calm, weightless, sublime. This was a pleasure that had nothing to do with physical need. Nothing to do with desire. With lust. He felt the warmth of another human being. He took a deep breath, and another. And another.

He drifted away.

He said, kids, do you know what time it is?
Well, sir, it's the first time I feel like something is mine. Like I have something to give...