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nickngregTitle: 730
Rating: PG
Summary: Just because something is simple, doesn't mean it's not meaningful.
AN: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starry_midnight, who I love very much. Unbeta'd, but if someone wants to do it for me, I'd be grateful. And, um, title edited because I, my friends, am dyslexic.
“Do we really need four pillows?”
Greg stopped and cast a dubious glance at Nick. “Yes, we really need four pillows. We also need the two that are on the guest bed, so be a good boyfriend and go get them, please.”
He wasn’t even going to bother arguing, asking, or saying anything else remotely related to the topic of pillows, because if it made Greg happy, he was more than willing to go along with it. Besides, he was already deeply indebted to Greg (although Greg didn’t know it), because he had counted on having to do something deeply romantic and cheesy for their two year anniversary, so when Greg suggested the drive in, he didn’t even hesitate before agreeing and calling in to get the night off.
“Nick! Grab the red fleece blanket - it’s the in closet.”
----
See, two months ago, he had dreaded this day. For their first anniversary, he had taken Greg to the Fleur de Lys, a French restaurant who’s wood and stone walls were adorned with thousands of fresh roses inside of leaf shaped frames. Coupled with a champagne and chocolates cruise on Lake Las Vegas, it had made a very nice anniversary - so nice, in fact, he realized the next day he would never be able to top it.
----
“Have you seen my hoodie? The Dallas Police one?”
“You mean the one you stole from me?” Nick teased, tossing the blanket and pillows at Greg once he’d stepped outside. “It’s in the laundry room. I’ll grab it.”
“You know, steal is such a harsh word. I prefer the tern appropriated.”
“It’s the same thing, Greg.”
“Technically not. To steal is to take without right or permission. To appropriate is to take possession of an object for one’s self, often without permission.”
“I’m not getting the difference.”
“Then you’re not listening. You can appropriate with permission, but you can’t steal with permission.”
Nick turned around from his spot in the doorway and shook his head. “But there was no permission given.”
Greg grinned at him. “That doesn’t matter. I was just telling you the difference.”
----
He started seriously trying to plan their two year anniversary exactly two months and one week ago. Should they have dinner at the Eiffel Tower restaurant? Or at Top of the World on the strip? The Eiffel Tower sounded nice, but Greg deserved the Eiffel Tower is Paris, not Las Vegas. And Top of the World’s 360° rotating restaurant wasn’t so special after they had brunch at the Space Needle in Seattle. So, armed with a guidebook to Vegas (he really couldn’t sink any lower), and a internal voice that told him why every idea he had was stupid, he had slowly crossed off every idea on his list but one: leave the city.
----
“Did you order the pizza?”
He gave Greg a blank look before tossing the sweatshirt he was holding to him. “I thought you wanted Thai food?”
Greg yanked the sweatshirt over his head. “You hate Thai food.”
Nick reached out and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair, trying to get the spikes to stand back up. “I don’t hate it, exactly-”
“You just can’t stand to eat it.” Greg leaned over and kissed him. “I do want Thai food, but I’ll grab some with Dave tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive. You want me to call and order pizza?” He nodded, and Greg grinned. “Great. That means you get to run into the store and get the drinks. And no beer, because we’re going to be driving.”
----
Leaving the city, of course, was not possible - at least not for the amount of time he’d like. Calling in a night off was one thing - telling Grissom they both needed a few days off was another. At that point, he was quite desperate, and he did want only he desperate do: he called Greg’s mother.
----
“Truck bed’s all set up,” Greg said cheerfully, handing Nick the keys. “And I called Pizza Vega, by Albertson’s, so we can grab the pizza when we get the drinks. And by we, naturally, I mean you.”
“I didn’t think you meant any different,” he assured Greg, opening the passenger door.
----
Needless to say, Greg’s mom wasn’t very much help. She told him that Greg would be happy with anything he planned, even something simple, but he (foolishly) thought he knew better. Simple would just not do. But he had no choice, really, than to dig out his list of rejected dates and choose the best one.
----
“What do you want to drink?” he asked, switching the ignition off and opening the door.
“Surprise me,” Greg answered. “Do you want me to go get the pizza?”
“No, you just sit here, listen to your music, and rel-” he stopped, glanced at the radio, and cringed. “Well, just listen to your music.”
----
So it was set. Dinner reservations at six for the Eiffel Tower restaurant, a table with a view of the Bellagio Fountains, and tickets to Romeo and Juliet. He had even started to forget some of his anxiety over the event - and that’s when everything went to hell.
----
Greg was bouncing in his seat when he returned, jerking his head up and down to a beat that Nick could hear faintly from the curb. Hands being used alternatively to play air guitar and the drums, and Nick was content to linger outside for a few extra seconds for viewing pleasure.
Greg turned down the music the second Nick opened the door and looked entirely cool with the fact that the whole parking lot had seen him dancing. “What’d you get me?”
“Coke. That okay?”
“Perfect.”
----
It would happen, of course, two days before he had reservations, that a pissed off employee would storm the Eiffel Tower Restaurant and kill six people, leaving his only plan a crime scene.
Sometimes, the Universe hates him.
----
“That’ll be fifteen dollars.”
He handed the guy at the ticket booth a twenty, waited for his change, and parked up front, as close to the screen as he could get. “Want anything from the snack bar?”
“Junior Mints, sour gummy worms, and popcorn.” Greg hopped out of the truck and reached for the pizza. “I’ll put the food in the back.”
“Don’t start without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
----
It surprised him, later that evening, that it took a crime to realize Greg’s mom was right. Sitting in the back of their truck, covered in blanket and eating pizza in the cool of air fall, he was glad that their plans had been canceled, one way or another. Because even though he hates the movies the drive in plays, he wouldn’t give it up for the world.
“Thanks,” Greg said during the break between movies. “I’m glad we’re here instead of at some theater. I mean, it’s nice to go out to fancy places, but this - this is just us. You know?”
Nick smiled and kissed Greg’s temple, drawing him closer. “Yeah. I know.”
Rating: PG
Summary: Just because something is simple, doesn't mean it's not meaningful.
AN: For
starry_midnight, who I love very much. Unbeta'd, but if someone wants to do it for me, I'd be grateful. And, um, title edited because I, my friends, am dyslexic.“Do we really need four pillows?”
Greg stopped and cast a dubious glance at Nick. “Yes, we really need four pillows. We also need the two that are on the guest bed, so be a good boyfriend and go get them, please.”
He wasn’t even going to bother arguing, asking, or saying anything else remotely related to the topic of pillows, because if it made Greg happy, he was more than willing to go along with it. Besides, he was already deeply indebted to Greg (although Greg didn’t know it), because he had counted on having to do something deeply romantic and cheesy for their two year anniversary, so when Greg suggested the drive in, he didn’t even hesitate before agreeing and calling in to get the night off.
“Nick! Grab the red fleece blanket - it’s the in closet.”
----
See, two months ago, he had dreaded this day. For their first anniversary, he had taken Greg to the Fleur de Lys, a French restaurant who’s wood and stone walls were adorned with thousands of fresh roses inside of leaf shaped frames. Coupled with a champagne and chocolates cruise on Lake Las Vegas, it had made a very nice anniversary - so nice, in fact, he realized the next day he would never be able to top it.
----
“Have you seen my hoodie? The Dallas Police one?”
“You mean the one you stole from me?” Nick teased, tossing the blanket and pillows at Greg once he’d stepped outside. “It’s in the laundry room. I’ll grab it.”
“You know, steal is such a harsh word. I prefer the tern appropriated.”
“It’s the same thing, Greg.”
“Technically not. To steal is to take without right or permission. To appropriate is to take possession of an object for one’s self, often without permission.”
“I’m not getting the difference.”
“Then you’re not listening. You can appropriate with permission, but you can’t steal with permission.”
Nick turned around from his spot in the doorway and shook his head. “But there was no permission given.”
Greg grinned at him. “That doesn’t matter. I was just telling you the difference.”
----
He started seriously trying to plan their two year anniversary exactly two months and one week ago. Should they have dinner at the Eiffel Tower restaurant? Or at Top of the World on the strip? The Eiffel Tower sounded nice, but Greg deserved the Eiffel Tower is Paris, not Las Vegas. And Top of the World’s 360° rotating restaurant wasn’t so special after they had brunch at the Space Needle in Seattle. So, armed with a guidebook to Vegas (he really couldn’t sink any lower), and a internal voice that told him why every idea he had was stupid, he had slowly crossed off every idea on his list but one: leave the city.
----
“Did you order the pizza?”
He gave Greg a blank look before tossing the sweatshirt he was holding to him. “I thought you wanted Thai food?”
Greg yanked the sweatshirt over his head. “You hate Thai food.”
Nick reached out and ran his fingers through Greg’s hair, trying to get the spikes to stand back up. “I don’t hate it, exactly-”
“You just can’t stand to eat it.” Greg leaned over and kissed him. “I do want Thai food, but I’ll grab some with Dave tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive. You want me to call and order pizza?” He nodded, and Greg grinned. “Great. That means you get to run into the store and get the drinks. And no beer, because we’re going to be driving.”
----
Leaving the city, of course, was not possible - at least not for the amount of time he’d like. Calling in a night off was one thing - telling Grissom they both needed a few days off was another. At that point, he was quite desperate, and he did want only he desperate do: he called Greg’s mother.
----
“Truck bed’s all set up,” Greg said cheerfully, handing Nick the keys. “And I called Pizza Vega, by Albertson’s, so we can grab the pizza when we get the drinks. And by we, naturally, I mean you.”
“I didn’t think you meant any different,” he assured Greg, opening the passenger door.
----
Needless to say, Greg’s mom wasn’t very much help. She told him that Greg would be happy with anything he planned, even something simple, but he (foolishly) thought he knew better. Simple would just not do. But he had no choice, really, than to dig out his list of rejected dates and choose the best one.
----
“What do you want to drink?” he asked, switching the ignition off and opening the door.
“Surprise me,” Greg answered. “Do you want me to go get the pizza?”
“No, you just sit here, listen to your music, and rel-” he stopped, glanced at the radio, and cringed. “Well, just listen to your music.”
----
So it was set. Dinner reservations at six for the Eiffel Tower restaurant, a table with a view of the Bellagio Fountains, and tickets to Romeo and Juliet. He had even started to forget some of his anxiety over the event - and that’s when everything went to hell.
----
Greg was bouncing in his seat when he returned, jerking his head up and down to a beat that Nick could hear faintly from the curb. Hands being used alternatively to play air guitar and the drums, and Nick was content to linger outside for a few extra seconds for viewing pleasure.
Greg turned down the music the second Nick opened the door and looked entirely cool with the fact that the whole parking lot had seen him dancing. “What’d you get me?”
“Coke. That okay?”
“Perfect.”
----
It would happen, of course, two days before he had reservations, that a pissed off employee would storm the Eiffel Tower Restaurant and kill six people, leaving his only plan a crime scene.
Sometimes, the Universe hates him.
----
“That’ll be fifteen dollars.”
He handed the guy at the ticket booth a twenty, waited for his change, and parked up front, as close to the screen as he could get. “Want anything from the snack bar?”
“Junior Mints, sour gummy worms, and popcorn.” Greg hopped out of the truck and reached for the pizza. “I’ll put the food in the back.”
“Don’t start without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
----
It surprised him, later that evening, that it took a crime to realize Greg’s mom was right. Sitting in the back of their truck, covered in blanket and eating pizza in the cool of air fall, he was glad that their plans had been canceled, one way or another. Because even though he hates the movies the drive in plays, he wouldn’t give it up for the world.
“Thanks,” Greg said during the break between movies. “I’m glad we’re here instead of at some theater. I mean, it’s nice to go out to fancy places, but this - this is just us. You know?”
Nick smiled and kissed Greg’s temple, drawing him closer. “Yeah. I know.”
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