Fic: The Things That Are Forever, 1/26
Jul. 28th, 2005 02:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregTitle: The Things That Are Forever
Chapter: 1/26
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Um, still haven't written one. Sorry. Beta'd by the loffly![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maribou413. Written for 0creativity
Prologue
Greg blinked a few times, his vision still blurred from sleep, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. His mind was only brought back to reality, however, when he rolled over to find no Nick in bed. “Nick?” he called sleepily, his voice thick with sleep. When Nick didn’t respond he sighed loudly in hopes Nick would hear him and then dragged himself out of bed.
The bedroom was cleaner than he remembered it being the night before - Nick must have gathered up all the dirty clothes that had been accumulating all week on the floor. He smiled slightly and made up his mind to do his most hated chore later - laundry - if Nick hadn’t already started it. A quick peek into the laundry room confirmed his plans: the laundry was piled up near the door.
He continued to make his way through the house, checking every room for Nick. Finally, just when he was beginning to wonder if Nick had made a quick run to the store, he spotted a familiar head through the window.
“Hey,” he said, opening the window and leaning out. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning out your car,” came the muffled reply. Nick drew his head out of the car and glared at Greg while holding up a bag by the very corners. “What is this, Greg? Do I need to get my gloves out? It’s disgusting.”
“Since you insist on only taking one car to the lab, I haven’t driven my car for months,” he answered. “I cannot be held responsible for anything you find in there.” Nick sighed, obviously exasperated, and Greg just grinned at him. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“I know.”
“You can come inside and have coffee with me.”
Nick smiled and tossed the bag he was holding into his makeshift garbage can. “I already had coffee.”
“Come have more,” Greg pleaded, biting his lip and trying his best to look innocent when Nick looked back up at him.
“I’m not like you, Greg. One cup is enough.”
“One is never enough,” he argued. “Please, Nicky?”
He tried pouting this time, but Nick merely shook in head in amusement. “I’ll be in after I finish this, okay?”
“Come in now, and I’ll do it later.”
Nick laughed then and pulled a few empty soda cans out of the car. “No, you won’t. That’s why I’m doing it now.”
This was not going his way, but instead of pouting some more and giving up, he switched tactics. “Since when do we take separate cars?” Nick opened his mouth to respond but Greg had already thought of something else. “Am I going to have to start driving? Because there’s no reason to clean it if I’m not. And if I am, why? Are we selling the truck? Are you going somewhere without me?”
Nick shook his head again and started to talk, but Greg cut him back off with a gasp. “You’re leaving me,” he accused, pushing himself back from the window. “You’re leaving me and you’re trying to be nice about it! That’s why you’re cleaning my car out!”
“Greg!”
Nick was laughing when he peeked back out the window. Bent in half, clutching his stomach, and laughing.
Damn him.
He shut the window with enough force to rattle the glass panes and stomped towards the kitchen.
Damn Nick. Damn him and his laughter and his and his seemingly thoughtful gestures that turned out to be underlying guilt. Damn his slow sexy smile and his honey sweet words that were really a cover up for his impending departure.
Damn Nick, who was opening up the door and trying hard not to laugh. “Oh, come on, G.”
“Don’t touch me,” he said, darting just out of Nick’s grasp. “If you’re going to leave me, just get it over with.”
“Really, Greg. I’m not going to leave you.”
“Really? Really?” His voice, which he seemed to have no control over, steadily rose in pitch. “The clothes are picked up off the floor when I wake up, the dishes that you asked me to wash last night and washed and put away and you were cleaning my car!”
Okay, so he was aware of just how ridiculous he was being. But Nick (who was innocent of all imagined crimes against him, he admitted), was still laughing and that was just enough to make Greg defend his apparently skewed logic to its death. And he if had to go along with this silly game he made up, he was going to give it his all.
“My car, Nicky,” he said, hoping he sounded appropriately scandalized. “The car is the extension of the man-”
He was cut off by Nick’s snort of laughter. “Give it up, Greggo.”
“What will it be next, Nick? Will you buy Ramen noodles? Clean my fish tanks? Rearrange my science journals?”
He only scowled harder when Nick collapsed onto the cough, laughing almost hysterically. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” he sniffed, fighting back a smile. It was nice to be the one that made Nick laugh like that, and if he kept this up, Nick just might give in out of pity, and he could ignore the pity part of it all. “I’m glad you’re positively giddy about throwing away our whole future, and past, now that I think about it. Our history, Nick!”
He was obviously not a good actor, because Nick still couldn’t stop laughing. “Greg,” he managed to gasp, “please. If you would have stopped chattering for a-”
“I do not chatter,” he hissed, truly scandalized this time.
“-minute, you would have heard me outside when I tried to tell you that I’m bringing the trunk into the shop tomorrow to get the fender fixed, so yes, we will need the car for a few days.”
Damn it, and he’d heard Nick just yesterday on the phone to the guy at the garage talking about it. Nevertheless, Nick would not win this one, so he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could have just told me.”
“Oh yeah?” Nick stood up and moved forward until Greg was pinned against the wall. “When? In between you asking me if I was selling the car or accusing me of trying to leave you? Because I tried, Chatterbox.”
He drew in a sharp breath when Nick’s hands gripped his hips and his fingertips began toying with the waistband of his pajama pants. He leaned his head forward until their noses touched. “I shouldn’t have over-reacted,” he whispered sheepishly, admitting certain doom to himself, and Nick smiled.
“It’s okay. I enjoyed the show.” He gave Greg a quick peck on the lips before drawing back. “Now go take a shower. You stink.” He jumped a little when Nick’s hand smacked his ass. “I’ll be outside, cleaning your car.”
“Nick?”
He stopped in mid turn and looked back at Greg. “Yeah?”
He paused for a moment and let his hands drop to his waist, hooking his fingers under the waistband. “Want to enjoy another show?”
-----
Nick laughed, full and deep, and the sound reverberated in Greg’s chest as he pressed himself against Nick. “Don’t go,” he mumbled. “Let’s just stay here forever.”
“Your fish will die if we stay here forever,” Nick said, his tone mocking seriousness.
“Shut up,” he said, smacking Nick’s arm lightly. “I’ll get up to feed them. I meant that we should stay in the house forever.”
“You did not,” Nick said. “And your fish would still die, because they’d run out of food.”
“I’ll have it delivered,” he countered. “And our groceries, too.”
“Speaking of,” Nick said, rolling onto his side and taking Greg with him, “we need to go shopping.”
“What for?”
Nick rolled his eyes and disentangled Greg’s arms from his. “Food. We’re running out.”
“I’m sure we can think of something.”
“Yeah, but tomorrow is our last day off for a week and a half, and I’d like to spend it relaxing, not running errands.”
“I guess.”
“You’ll be thanking me tomorrow.”
Greg sighed and sat up, reaching for his boxers. “I probably will. But I was going to do laundry, so you’ll have to go to the store without me.”
Nick yanked a clean shirt over his head and smiled. “You hate laundry.”
“I know.”
He stood up and Nick pulled him close, kissing him briefly. “You go to the store, and I’ll do the laundry.”
“Ohh,” he said, grinning. “Will you fold it, too?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent.”
He leaned close and ran his tongue along Nick’s lower lip. “Let’s go back to bed until we absolutely have to get up.”
“Let’s do that tomorrow. Errands, remember?”
“No. What errands?”
Nick laughed and Greg felt his hand being taken. “Come on. You can watch me wash the truck.”
“Always a favorite,” he said, letting Nick lead him through the living room and into the front yard. “But you’re right, I should go to the store.”
“You might have given me a heart attack,” Nick joked, releasing Greg’s hand. “Call the paramedics.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” He reached his hand into Nick’s jeans pocket and pulled out the keys to the truck. “Anything you want?”
“There’s a list on the passenger seat,” Nick answered, nodding his head at the truck. “Hurry back.”
“I will.”
“Don’t buy too much, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Miss you.”
“Miss you, too.”
“What do you promise, G?”
He swung the door open and hopped in, grinning down at Nick. “I promise I won’t buy any store bought barbeque sauce.”
“Good.” Nick grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, kissing him, and he moaned, opening his lips to deepen the kiss.
“In front of the neighbors and everything,” he said when Nick let him go. “You must be losing your mind.”
“Blame it on the endorphins,” Nick laughed. “It’s your fault.”
-----
“Back,” he heard Greg call from outside and he set his book down, carefully inserting the bookmark before getting up and opening up the door.
“Hey,” he said, taking a few bags out of Greg’s hands and kissing his cheek. “Any more in the truck?”
“Nope,” Greg answered, flashing a grin at him before hefting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “I know you wanted to barbeque, but the store had day old bread, and we haven’t had bread dumplings in a long time, and you liked them, remember? But if you really want to barbeque then-”
Nick laughed and set the green beans Greg was holding on the counter and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist. “You don’t have to try and talk me into it,” he said. “You can just say you want your bread dumplings.”
Greg leaned into him and breathed deep. “You smell good,” he mumbled. “We’ll barbeque tomorrow, I promise.”
Nick let himself relax against Greg and shivered a little when Greg’s lips landed on his jaw line. He tilted his head and felt Greg smile against him.
“Giving me better access?”
“Maybe,” he said, smiling. His hands found the hem of Greg’s shirt and he slide it up, running his hands along the small of Greg’s back.
Greg sighed and kissed his neck softly once more before pulling away a little. “And as much as I love that, if we’re going to have bread dumplings, we better start making them.”
Nick bent his head and brushed his lips against Greg’s, groaning when Greg dropped his hands down, gripped his sides and pressed their hips together tightly. He opened his mouth slightly and caught Greg’s bottom lip, grinding their hips together again when Greg moaned into his mouth.
“Dinner,” Greg gasped, dropping his hands and pulling away. “Remember?”
“Later,” Nick said, reaching out for him once more, but Greg spun just out of his reach.
“Now,” Greg said, leaning forward and kissing him quickly. “Come on. I’ll finish putting the groceries away and then you can help me tear the bread.”
He nodded reluctantly and started unloading the bags, pushing all the cold items off to the side and leaving the rest for Greg to put away. “G, what’s this?”
“Cake,” Greg said, glancing at the package Nick was holding. “Lemon cake. Zitronenkuchen. It’s German. It doesn’t have to be refrigerated until it’s opened, but I personally think it’s better cold, so go ahead and throw it in.”
Nick did as he was told, shaking his head slightly. “Why couldn’t we just make lemon cake? How much did this cost you?”
“Because it reminds me of my youth, and it was only three dollars.”
“Cake mix is ninety-nine cents.”
“Reminds me of my youth, Nick. Did you miss that part? Besides, cake mix is the devil.”
“That’s probably what they made this out of,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Why’d you get more eggs? Don’t we have enough?”
“Because we’ll use most of them making the bread dumplings,” Greg answered. “Besides, I also bought ham and peppers, so we can have omelets for breakfast.”
He nodded and put the milk in the refrigerator. Greg had his back to him when he shut the door, so he reached out and pinched his ass and Greg jumped slightly.
“I know you can’t wait to have my hot ass, but you’ll have to, just for a few more hours.”
“You sure of that?” he said, taking a step towards him and pulling Greg flush against him. “Because I don’t think you’d protest right now.”
Greg tilted his head back and smiled. “You’re probably right, but we really should start making dinner.”
He sighed loudly but Greg only shook his head in amusement. “I’ll get the bowl and you bring the bread?”
“Sounds perfect.”
It took some searching to find the only bowl big enough, so by the time he found it, Greg was already headed out to the porch, two loaves of French bread and several bottles of water in his arms.
“Took you long enough,” Greg teased when he finally sat down at their porch table. “I was beginning to think you got lost in the pantry.”
“Ha, ha,” he responded dryly, setting the bowl on the table in between them. “Was your girlfriend at the store?”
Greg groaned. His girlfriend, as Nick had taken to calling her, was a pale, 350 pound checker who slipped Greg her number every time she saw him. “Yes,” he said, glaring when Nick chuckled. “And those chocolate chip cookies you put away? I didn’t buy those. They must have been a gift.”
“Aw, Greggo,” he said, accepting one of the loaves Greg was hading him. “She’s in love with you.”
“At least she’s got good taste,” Greg answered, grinning. “I also saw Grissom there, in the produce section.”
“Yeah? What’d he say?”
“I asked him if he wanted to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy.” Greg dropped a handful of bread pieces into the bowl. “I didn’t think Gris was ever busy, unless he was working a case.”
“Might be a departmental dinner going on,” Nick said, shrugging. “But now that you mention it, I thought it might be fun to have everyone over sometime.”
“Right,” Greg said, bumping his shoulder against Nick’s playfully. “You just want an excuse to barbeque up a whole cow.”
He grinned. “That might be true.”
Although Nick wouldn’t admit it to anybody, this was his favorite dinner to prepare. Greg, who usually cooked meals without measurements, throwing a dash of this and a pinch of that in whenever he felt like, was absolutely adamant on how to prepare his beloved bread dumplings. The French bread - which had to be the pre-sliced kind - had to be torn up in tiny pieces. He didn’t understand why, because you ended up mixing it all up in the end, but Greg insisted that it was better that way.
And if that wasn’t something he would admit, he would definitely not admit that the reason he liked it so much might be because the first time Greg had ever said “I love you” was when he was teaching Nick how to tear the bread just right.
“Papa Olaf says hello,” Greg said a few minutes later. “He might be getting a new dog.”
“Can he take care of a dog?”
Greg shrugged. “Probably not, but he really wants one.”
“We should get a dog,” Nick said. “You think?”
Greg stopped shredding his bread and looked at Nick. “Really?” When he nodded, Greg smiled widely. “I’d like that. What kind? I’ve always wanted a Yorkie.”
“No,” he groaned. “A real dog, G, not like those things Paris Hilton carries around.”
“But they’re so cute, and my friend Kate used to have one and she said it would cuddle with you in bed and…” Greg trailed off and grinned. “Please?”
“My family would never let me hear the end of it if we got some dog you have to carry around all the time. What about a nice family dog, like a Golden Retriever?” He glanced at Greg quickly, but Greg didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual about what he just said – that or he wasn’t listening at all.
“Nicky,” Greg pouted, picking his bread back up. “Think about it?”
“We can look around,” he said finally, and Greg started a silent victory dance in his seat. “Look, G. Only look. Keep your mind open, though. Maybe there will be a different breed you like better.”
“Once you see them, you’ll fall in love,” Greg said happily.
He shook his head. “What else did Papa Olaf say? When did you talk to him?” he added as an afterthought.
“He called on my cell when I was at the store,” Greg answered. “And he didn’t say much else. He says my Aunt has news and wants me to call her. And they want us to come visit, like I’ve been promising. I’ve only got two weeks of vacation time left for this year, though, so I told them we might have to wait.”
“Two weeks isn’t long enough?”
“No. If we’re going to go over there it might as well be for a month. Then we could visit Germany or France or something else, too. I think one of my cousins moved to Baden-Württemberg, so we’d have someone to stay with there, if we ended up going there.”
“I’d have to renew my passport.”
“You should do that anyway, you know. In case there’s ever an emergency.”
“I will,” he said, knowing Greg wouldn’t let this go until he promised. “Tell Papa Olaf I said hi when you talk to him again.”
“Don’t worry,” Greg said, scooting his chair a little closer to Nick’s and leaning his head against Nick’s shoulder. “He told me he’d call you tonight. He wants to tell you about the time he rode a bull in a rodeo.”
Chapter: 1/26
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Um, still haven't written one. Sorry. Beta'd by the loffly
maribou413. Written for 0creativityPrologue
Greg blinked a few times, his vision still blurred from sleep, and rubbed his eyes tiredly. His mind was only brought back to reality, however, when he rolled over to find no Nick in bed. “Nick?” he called sleepily, his voice thick with sleep. When Nick didn’t respond he sighed loudly in hopes Nick would hear him and then dragged himself out of bed.
The bedroom was cleaner than he remembered it being the night before - Nick must have gathered up all the dirty clothes that had been accumulating all week on the floor. He smiled slightly and made up his mind to do his most hated chore later - laundry - if Nick hadn’t already started it. A quick peek into the laundry room confirmed his plans: the laundry was piled up near the door.
He continued to make his way through the house, checking every room for Nick. Finally, just when he was beginning to wonder if Nick had made a quick run to the store, he spotted a familiar head through the window.
“Hey,” he said, opening the window and leaning out. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning out your car,” came the muffled reply. Nick drew his head out of the car and glared at Greg while holding up a bag by the very corners. “What is this, Greg? Do I need to get my gloves out? It’s disgusting.”
“Since you insist on only taking one car to the lab, I haven’t driven my car for months,” he answered. “I cannot be held responsible for anything you find in there.” Nick sighed, obviously exasperated, and Greg just grinned at him. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”
“I know.”
“You can come inside and have coffee with me.”
Nick smiled and tossed the bag he was holding into his makeshift garbage can. “I already had coffee.”
“Come have more,” Greg pleaded, biting his lip and trying his best to look innocent when Nick looked back up at him.
“I’m not like you, Greg. One cup is enough.”
“One is never enough,” he argued. “Please, Nicky?”
He tried pouting this time, but Nick merely shook in head in amusement. “I’ll be in after I finish this, okay?”
“Come in now, and I’ll do it later.”
Nick laughed then and pulled a few empty soda cans out of the car. “No, you won’t. That’s why I’m doing it now.”
This was not going his way, but instead of pouting some more and giving up, he switched tactics. “Since when do we take separate cars?” Nick opened his mouth to respond but Greg had already thought of something else. “Am I going to have to start driving? Because there’s no reason to clean it if I’m not. And if I am, why? Are we selling the truck? Are you going somewhere without me?”
Nick shook his head again and started to talk, but Greg cut him back off with a gasp. “You’re leaving me,” he accused, pushing himself back from the window. “You’re leaving me and you’re trying to be nice about it! That’s why you’re cleaning my car out!”
“Greg!”
Nick was laughing when he peeked back out the window. Bent in half, clutching his stomach, and laughing.
Damn him.
He shut the window with enough force to rattle the glass panes and stomped towards the kitchen.
Damn Nick. Damn him and his laughter and his and his seemingly thoughtful gestures that turned out to be underlying guilt. Damn his slow sexy smile and his honey sweet words that were really a cover up for his impending departure.
Damn Nick, who was opening up the door and trying hard not to laugh. “Oh, come on, G.”
“Don’t touch me,” he said, darting just out of Nick’s grasp. “If you’re going to leave me, just get it over with.”
“Really, Greg. I’m not going to leave you.”
“Really? Really?” His voice, which he seemed to have no control over, steadily rose in pitch. “The clothes are picked up off the floor when I wake up, the dishes that you asked me to wash last night and washed and put away and you were cleaning my car!”
Okay, so he was aware of just how ridiculous he was being. But Nick (who was innocent of all imagined crimes against him, he admitted), was still laughing and that was just enough to make Greg defend his apparently skewed logic to its death. And he if had to go along with this silly game he made up, he was going to give it his all.
“My car, Nicky,” he said, hoping he sounded appropriately scandalized. “The car is the extension of the man-”
He was cut off by Nick’s snort of laughter. “Give it up, Greggo.”
“What will it be next, Nick? Will you buy Ramen noodles? Clean my fish tanks? Rearrange my science journals?”
He only scowled harder when Nick collapsed onto the cough, laughing almost hysterically. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” he sniffed, fighting back a smile. It was nice to be the one that made Nick laugh like that, and if he kept this up, Nick just might give in out of pity, and he could ignore the pity part of it all. “I’m glad you’re positively giddy about throwing away our whole future, and past, now that I think about it. Our history, Nick!”
He was obviously not a good actor, because Nick still couldn’t stop laughing. “Greg,” he managed to gasp, “please. If you would have stopped chattering for a-”
“I do not chatter,” he hissed, truly scandalized this time.
“-minute, you would have heard me outside when I tried to tell you that I’m bringing the trunk into the shop tomorrow to get the fender fixed, so yes, we will need the car for a few days.”
Damn it, and he’d heard Nick just yesterday on the phone to the guy at the garage talking about it. Nevertheless, Nick would not win this one, so he crossed his arms over his chest. “You could have just told me.”
“Oh yeah?” Nick stood up and moved forward until Greg was pinned against the wall. “When? In between you asking me if I was selling the car or accusing me of trying to leave you? Because I tried, Chatterbox.”
He drew in a sharp breath when Nick’s hands gripped his hips and his fingertips began toying with the waistband of his pajama pants. He leaned his head forward until their noses touched. “I shouldn’t have over-reacted,” he whispered sheepishly, admitting certain doom to himself, and Nick smiled.
“It’s okay. I enjoyed the show.” He gave Greg a quick peck on the lips before drawing back. “Now go take a shower. You stink.” He jumped a little when Nick’s hand smacked his ass. “I’ll be outside, cleaning your car.”
“Nick?”
He stopped in mid turn and looked back at Greg. “Yeah?”
He paused for a moment and let his hands drop to his waist, hooking his fingers under the waistband. “Want to enjoy another show?”
-----
Nick laughed, full and deep, and the sound reverberated in Greg’s chest as he pressed himself against Nick. “Don’t go,” he mumbled. “Let’s just stay here forever.”
“Your fish will die if we stay here forever,” Nick said, his tone mocking seriousness.
“Shut up,” he said, smacking Nick’s arm lightly. “I’ll get up to feed them. I meant that we should stay in the house forever.”
“You did not,” Nick said. “And your fish would still die, because they’d run out of food.”
“I’ll have it delivered,” he countered. “And our groceries, too.”
“Speaking of,” Nick said, rolling onto his side and taking Greg with him, “we need to go shopping.”
“What for?”
Nick rolled his eyes and disentangled Greg’s arms from his. “Food. We’re running out.”
“I’m sure we can think of something.”
“Yeah, but tomorrow is our last day off for a week and a half, and I’d like to spend it relaxing, not running errands.”
“I guess.”
“You’ll be thanking me tomorrow.”
Greg sighed and sat up, reaching for his boxers. “I probably will. But I was going to do laundry, so you’ll have to go to the store without me.”
Nick yanked a clean shirt over his head and smiled. “You hate laundry.”
“I know.”
He stood up and Nick pulled him close, kissing him briefly. “You go to the store, and I’ll do the laundry.”
“Ohh,” he said, grinning. “Will you fold it, too?”
“Of course.”
“Excellent.”
He leaned close and ran his tongue along Nick’s lower lip. “Let’s go back to bed until we absolutely have to get up.”
“Let’s do that tomorrow. Errands, remember?”
“No. What errands?”
Nick laughed and Greg felt his hand being taken. “Come on. You can watch me wash the truck.”
“Always a favorite,” he said, letting Nick lead him through the living room and into the front yard. “But you’re right, I should go to the store.”
“You might have given me a heart attack,” Nick joked, releasing Greg’s hand. “Call the paramedics.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” He reached his hand into Nick’s jeans pocket and pulled out the keys to the truck. “Anything you want?”
“There’s a list on the passenger seat,” Nick answered, nodding his head at the truck. “Hurry back.”
“I will.”
“Don’t buy too much, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Miss you.”
“Miss you, too.”
“What do you promise, G?”
He swung the door open and hopped in, grinning down at Nick. “I promise I won’t buy any store bought barbeque sauce.”
“Good.” Nick grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, kissing him, and he moaned, opening his lips to deepen the kiss.
“In front of the neighbors and everything,” he said when Nick let him go. “You must be losing your mind.”
“Blame it on the endorphins,” Nick laughed. “It’s your fault.”
-----
“Back,” he heard Greg call from outside and he set his book down, carefully inserting the bookmark before getting up and opening up the door.
“Hey,” he said, taking a few bags out of Greg’s hands and kissing his cheek. “Any more in the truck?”
“Nope,” Greg answered, flashing a grin at him before hefting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “I know you wanted to barbeque, but the store had day old bread, and we haven’t had bread dumplings in a long time, and you liked them, remember? But if you really want to barbeque then-”
Nick laughed and set the green beans Greg was holding on the counter and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist. “You don’t have to try and talk me into it,” he said. “You can just say you want your bread dumplings.”
Greg leaned into him and breathed deep. “You smell good,” he mumbled. “We’ll barbeque tomorrow, I promise.”
Nick let himself relax against Greg and shivered a little when Greg’s lips landed on his jaw line. He tilted his head and felt Greg smile against him.
“Giving me better access?”
“Maybe,” he said, smiling. His hands found the hem of Greg’s shirt and he slide it up, running his hands along the small of Greg’s back.
Greg sighed and kissed his neck softly once more before pulling away a little. “And as much as I love that, if we’re going to have bread dumplings, we better start making them.”
Nick bent his head and brushed his lips against Greg’s, groaning when Greg dropped his hands down, gripped his sides and pressed their hips together tightly. He opened his mouth slightly and caught Greg’s bottom lip, grinding their hips together again when Greg moaned into his mouth.
“Dinner,” Greg gasped, dropping his hands and pulling away. “Remember?”
“Later,” Nick said, reaching out for him once more, but Greg spun just out of his reach.
“Now,” Greg said, leaning forward and kissing him quickly. “Come on. I’ll finish putting the groceries away and then you can help me tear the bread.”
He nodded reluctantly and started unloading the bags, pushing all the cold items off to the side and leaving the rest for Greg to put away. “G, what’s this?”
“Cake,” Greg said, glancing at the package Nick was holding. “Lemon cake. Zitronenkuchen. It’s German. It doesn’t have to be refrigerated until it’s opened, but I personally think it’s better cold, so go ahead and throw it in.”
Nick did as he was told, shaking his head slightly. “Why couldn’t we just make lemon cake? How much did this cost you?”
“Because it reminds me of my youth, and it was only three dollars.”
“Cake mix is ninety-nine cents.”
“Reminds me of my youth, Nick. Did you miss that part? Besides, cake mix is the devil.”
“That’s probably what they made this out of,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “Why’d you get more eggs? Don’t we have enough?”
“Because we’ll use most of them making the bread dumplings,” Greg answered. “Besides, I also bought ham and peppers, so we can have omelets for breakfast.”
He nodded and put the milk in the refrigerator. Greg had his back to him when he shut the door, so he reached out and pinched his ass and Greg jumped slightly.
“I know you can’t wait to have my hot ass, but you’ll have to, just for a few more hours.”
“You sure of that?” he said, taking a step towards him and pulling Greg flush against him. “Because I don’t think you’d protest right now.”
Greg tilted his head back and smiled. “You’re probably right, but we really should start making dinner.”
He sighed loudly but Greg only shook his head in amusement. “I’ll get the bowl and you bring the bread?”
“Sounds perfect.”
It took some searching to find the only bowl big enough, so by the time he found it, Greg was already headed out to the porch, two loaves of French bread and several bottles of water in his arms.
“Took you long enough,” Greg teased when he finally sat down at their porch table. “I was beginning to think you got lost in the pantry.”
“Ha, ha,” he responded dryly, setting the bowl on the table in between them. “Was your girlfriend at the store?”
Greg groaned. His girlfriend, as Nick had taken to calling her, was a pale, 350 pound checker who slipped Greg her number every time she saw him. “Yes,” he said, glaring when Nick chuckled. “And those chocolate chip cookies you put away? I didn’t buy those. They must have been a gift.”
“Aw, Greggo,” he said, accepting one of the loaves Greg was hading him. “She’s in love with you.”
“At least she’s got good taste,” Greg answered, grinning. “I also saw Grissom there, in the produce section.”
“Yeah? What’d he say?”
“I asked him if he wanted to come over for dinner, but he said he was busy.” Greg dropped a handful of bread pieces into the bowl. “I didn’t think Gris was ever busy, unless he was working a case.”
“Might be a departmental dinner going on,” Nick said, shrugging. “But now that you mention it, I thought it might be fun to have everyone over sometime.”
“Right,” Greg said, bumping his shoulder against Nick’s playfully. “You just want an excuse to barbeque up a whole cow.”
He grinned. “That might be true.”
Although Nick wouldn’t admit it to anybody, this was his favorite dinner to prepare. Greg, who usually cooked meals without measurements, throwing a dash of this and a pinch of that in whenever he felt like, was absolutely adamant on how to prepare his beloved bread dumplings. The French bread - which had to be the pre-sliced kind - had to be torn up in tiny pieces. He didn’t understand why, because you ended up mixing it all up in the end, but Greg insisted that it was better that way.
And if that wasn’t something he would admit, he would definitely not admit that the reason he liked it so much might be because the first time Greg had ever said “I love you” was when he was teaching Nick how to tear the bread just right.
“Papa Olaf says hello,” Greg said a few minutes later. “He might be getting a new dog.”
“Can he take care of a dog?”
Greg shrugged. “Probably not, but he really wants one.”
“We should get a dog,” Nick said. “You think?”
Greg stopped shredding his bread and looked at Nick. “Really?” When he nodded, Greg smiled widely. “I’d like that. What kind? I’ve always wanted a Yorkie.”
“No,” he groaned. “A real dog, G, not like those things Paris Hilton carries around.”
“But they’re so cute, and my friend Kate used to have one and she said it would cuddle with you in bed and…” Greg trailed off and grinned. “Please?”
“My family would never let me hear the end of it if we got some dog you have to carry around all the time. What about a nice family dog, like a Golden Retriever?” He glanced at Greg quickly, but Greg didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual about what he just said – that or he wasn’t listening at all.
“Nicky,” Greg pouted, picking his bread back up. “Think about it?”
“We can look around,” he said finally, and Greg started a silent victory dance in his seat. “Look, G. Only look. Keep your mind open, though. Maybe there will be a different breed you like better.”
“Once you see them, you’ll fall in love,” Greg said happily.
He shook his head. “What else did Papa Olaf say? When did you talk to him?” he added as an afterthought.
“He called on my cell when I was at the store,” Greg answered. “And he didn’t say much else. He says my Aunt has news and wants me to call her. And they want us to come visit, like I’ve been promising. I’ve only got two weeks of vacation time left for this year, though, so I told them we might have to wait.”
“Two weeks isn’t long enough?”
“No. If we’re going to go over there it might as well be for a month. Then we could visit Germany or France or something else, too. I think one of my cousins moved to Baden-Württemberg, so we’d have someone to stay with there, if we ended up going there.”
“I’d have to renew my passport.”
“You should do that anyway, you know. In case there’s ever an emergency.”
“I will,” he said, knowing Greg wouldn’t let this go until he promised. “Tell Papa Olaf I said hi when you talk to him again.”
“Don’t worry,” Greg said, scooting his chair a little closer to Nick’s and leaning his head against Nick’s shoulder. “He told me he’d call you tonight. He wants to tell you about the time he rode a bull in a rodeo.”
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Date: 2005-07-28 09:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-28 10:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-28 10:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-28 10:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 11:53 pm (UTC)FMD!
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Date: 2005-07-29 12:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 12:44 am (UTC)Hee.
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Date: 2005-07-29 01:24 am (UTC)XOX
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Date: 2005-07-29 01:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-29 02:37 am (UTC)*sigh* Cute! But I also can't wait for the rest of the fic. Whee!
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Date: 2005-07-29 05:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-29 12:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-07-29 09:22 pm (UTC)It's soooo domestic and fluffy and makes me want to squee!!! Ah, I'm still loving it! Obviously. lol It's just too wonderful!
*whispers excitedly* Are there gonna be kids?
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From:The cake thing...
Date: 2005-07-30 11:56 am (UTC)And one plea: Let them buy the Golden Retriever, I hate these little mutant-rats with bis ears called dogs!
Re: The cake thing...
From:no subject
Date: 2005-08-02 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 05:27 pm (UTC)