Compromise
Jul. 3rd, 2005 11:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
littlebuttercup.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Compromise
Rating: PG (ohh, I said "damn")
Summary: Nick learns to compromise.
Again, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hawkeyecat and the rest of crew at the Fort who have recently turned emo. Inspired by Dion&Tim, my real life slashy couple. Remember, I'm a commentwhore.
“GREG!”
Greg’s head popped around the corner, and he smiled. “Yeah?”
“Man,” he took a deep breath and pointed to the coffee table. “Can you please pick up your trash?”
“They’re just wrappers, Nick,” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “No need to get upset about it.” And then he disappeared, leaving Nick staring at the candy bar wrappers littering the table.
Two days later, and they were still there. Nick sighed as he sat down on the couch and swept a few stray wrappers aside. “Greg, really, can you pick them up, please?”
Greg smiled at him and propped his feet over the side of couch. “Sure. After this show, okay?”
The show started and ended, and when Greg got up, there were three new wrappers sitting neatly on the table.
Five days, and Nick was starting to really get annoyed.
“Calm down,” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “There’s only a few of them.”
He kept saying that, and Nick kept asking him to pick them up, and for awhile, it seemed to work. The wrappers slowly declined in number, and just when he thought he should thank Greg, he sat down on the couch and pulled the lever to recline the seat.
Within three seconds he was buried in wrappers. “GREG!”
Greg grinned at him defiantly from the next seat. “Yes?”
“I thought I asked you,” he said slowly, feeling very much as though he was talking to a small child, “to pick these up.”
“I did.”
“Then why are they here?”
“I can’t help it if I eat a lot of candy, and sometimes I don’t want to walk to the kitchen.”
Nick could feel his head begin to ache.
Three days passed, and Greg’s wrapper accumulation steadily grew. Grew by the garbage can, by his desk chair, and in between the magazines on the nightstand.
“Seriously, G,” he said the next time Greg sat down next to him. “Pick up after yourself, alright?”
“You know,” Greg said, frowning, “I don’t like it when you speak to me in that manner.”
“Maybe if you picked up after yourself, I wouldn’t have to!”
Greg stared at him. He reached down and plucked a wrapper from the crack in the couch and balled it up slowly, maintaining eye contact with Nick the entire time. Then, with a well placed flick of the wrist, threw his wrapper in the direction of the garbage. “Damn,” he said, biting into a new candy bar when it landed almost straight in front of Nick, “I really thought that I’d make that one.”
“That’s not funny, G. That was intentional.”
“Never,” Greg said airily, throwing his now empty Snickers wrapper in the same direction. “You do it all the time.”
“I pick it up if I miss!”
“Hey, maybe in a couple of weeks I can play basketball with you and Warrick.”
“EITHER EAT IT, WRAPPER AND ALL, OR THROW IT AWAY!”
“Stop being so anal.”
He stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The house was an unofficial war zone after that. Greg seemed to be eating more candy than he’d ever consumed before, and Nick would stare pointedly at them whenever a pile grew precariously high.
When he stumbled over a pile of them on the back porch, though, he lost it. “WHAT IN THE HELL ARE THESE HERE FOR?”
Greg, who had been swimming in the pool, stopped and smiled serenely at him. “That’s my sundial,” he said, and promptly dove back underwater.
Nick picked them up and tossed them in the pool.
Two days later, Greg was glaring at him while on the phone. “Thanks to you,” he said, “we need the filter replaced. What were you thinking, throwing your wrappers in the pool like that?”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t take them out of the pool? Are you so lazy that even when they’re floating around in the pool you can’t skim them off the top?”
“Are you so lazy that you can’t pick up your own garbage? You tossed them in the pool - it’s your fault.”
“MY FAULT? I DIDN’T EAT TWENTY POUNDS OF CANDY AND THEN TOSS THE WRAPPERS EVERYWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER WITH LITTLE PIECES OF CHOCOLATE MELTING ALL OVER THE CARPET!”
“I don’t think it was twenty pounds of candy, Nick, really.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”
“Exactly. The point is that you dumped your wrappers into the pool for no reason, isn’t it? Maybe you should do some investigating into whose fault this is before you come in and yell at me.”
“GREG!”
“Yes, baby?”
“CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DAMNED SELF!”
“Ask me nicely.”
“NOW!”
“You know what Papa Olaf used to say? hvis du ikke har noe positivt å si, så si ingenting."
“I MEAN IT!”
“So do I.”
He came home the next day to Greg sitting in the living room, piles of wrappers at his feet and glue in his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Compromising,” Greg said cheerfully, leaning back and grinning. “Like it?”
In front of him was a table covered in wrappers.
“Greg…”
“This way my wrappers have a home, and you won’t keep whining about it.”
In spite of himself, Nick smiled. “Alright, Greggo. But only on that table.”
“If you ask nicely.”
*
*
*
*
hvis du ikke har noe positivt å si, så si ingenting >>> If you don't have anything positive to say, don't say it.
Rating: PG (ohh, I said "damn")
Summary: Nick learns to compromise.
Again, for
hawkeyecat and the rest of crew at the Fort who have recently turned emo. Inspired by Dion&Tim, my real life slashy couple. Remember, I'm a commentwhore.“GREG!”
Greg’s head popped around the corner, and he smiled. “Yeah?”
“Man,” he took a deep breath and pointed to the coffee table. “Can you please pick up your trash?”
“They’re just wrappers, Nick,” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “No need to get upset about it.” And then he disappeared, leaving Nick staring at the candy bar wrappers littering the table.
Two days later, and they were still there. Nick sighed as he sat down on the couch and swept a few stray wrappers aside. “Greg, really, can you pick them up, please?”
Greg smiled at him and propped his feet over the side of couch. “Sure. After this show, okay?”
The show started and ended, and when Greg got up, there were three new wrappers sitting neatly on the table.
Five days, and Nick was starting to really get annoyed.
“Calm down,” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “There’s only a few of them.”
He kept saying that, and Nick kept asking him to pick them up, and for awhile, it seemed to work. The wrappers slowly declined in number, and just when he thought he should thank Greg, he sat down on the couch and pulled the lever to recline the seat.
Within three seconds he was buried in wrappers. “GREG!”
Greg grinned at him defiantly from the next seat. “Yes?”
“I thought I asked you,” he said slowly, feeling very much as though he was talking to a small child, “to pick these up.”
“I did.”
“Then why are they here?”
“I can’t help it if I eat a lot of candy, and sometimes I don’t want to walk to the kitchen.”
Nick could feel his head begin to ache.
Three days passed, and Greg’s wrapper accumulation steadily grew. Grew by the garbage can, by his desk chair, and in between the magazines on the nightstand.
“Seriously, G,” he said the next time Greg sat down next to him. “Pick up after yourself, alright?”
“You know,” Greg said, frowning, “I don’t like it when you speak to me in that manner.”
“Maybe if you picked up after yourself, I wouldn’t have to!”
Greg stared at him. He reached down and plucked a wrapper from the crack in the couch and balled it up slowly, maintaining eye contact with Nick the entire time. Then, with a well placed flick of the wrist, threw his wrapper in the direction of the garbage. “Damn,” he said, biting into a new candy bar when it landed almost straight in front of Nick, “I really thought that I’d make that one.”
“That’s not funny, G. That was intentional.”
“Never,” Greg said airily, throwing his now empty Snickers wrapper in the same direction. “You do it all the time.”
“I pick it up if I miss!”
“Hey, maybe in a couple of weeks I can play basketball with you and Warrick.”
“EITHER EAT IT, WRAPPER AND ALL, OR THROW IT AWAY!”
“Stop being so anal.”
He stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
The house was an unofficial war zone after that. Greg seemed to be eating more candy than he’d ever consumed before, and Nick would stare pointedly at them whenever a pile grew precariously high.
When he stumbled over a pile of them on the back porch, though, he lost it. “WHAT IN THE HELL ARE THESE HERE FOR?”
Greg, who had been swimming in the pool, stopped and smiled serenely at him. “That’s my sundial,” he said, and promptly dove back underwater.
Nick picked them up and tossed them in the pool.
Two days later, Greg was glaring at him while on the phone. “Thanks to you,” he said, “we need the filter replaced. What were you thinking, throwing your wrappers in the pool like that?”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t take them out of the pool? Are you so lazy that even when they’re floating around in the pool you can’t skim them off the top?”
“Are you so lazy that you can’t pick up your own garbage? You tossed them in the pool - it’s your fault.”
“MY FAULT? I DIDN’T EAT TWENTY POUNDS OF CANDY AND THEN TOSS THE WRAPPERS EVERYWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER WITH LITTLE PIECES OF CHOCOLATE MELTING ALL OVER THE CARPET!”
“I don’t think it was twenty pounds of candy, Nick, really.”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!”
“Exactly. The point is that you dumped your wrappers into the pool for no reason, isn’t it? Maybe you should do some investigating into whose fault this is before you come in and yell at me.”
“GREG!”
“Yes, baby?”
“CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DAMNED SELF!”
“Ask me nicely.”
“NOW!”
“You know what Papa Olaf used to say? hvis du ikke har noe positivt å si, så si ingenting."
“I MEAN IT!”
“So do I.”
He came home the next day to Greg sitting in the living room, piles of wrappers at his feet and glue in his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Compromising,” Greg said cheerfully, leaning back and grinning. “Like it?”
In front of him was a table covered in wrappers.
“Greg…”
“This way my wrappers have a home, and you won’t keep whining about it.”
In spite of himself, Nick smiled. “Alright, Greggo. But only on that table.”
“If you ask nicely.”
*
*
*
*
hvis du ikke har noe positivt å si, så si ingenting >>> If you don't have anything positive to say, don't say it.
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Date: 2005-07-04 06:54 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2005-07-04 06:57 am (UTC)Greg would have refused to use them just to be a brat, wouldn't he?
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Date: 2005-07-04 03:28 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it :)
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