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Dec. 21st, 2004 02:20 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nekosmuse, who wanted post-apocolyptic fic.
Nick/Greg, Rated R for language?
Untitled post-apocolyptic ficlet:
Greg used to think winter in Palo Alto was cold. He knew, of course, that it wasn’t cold in comparison to other parts of the country and world, but coming from Southern California, it felt downright frigid. Of course that was before Vegas. It could get pretty damn cold out in the desert in the middle of the night. But Greg didn’t know what cold was, not really, until he came here.
His ears were freezing, even under his red and yellow Home Hardware toque, and he kept his mittened hands clapped over them as he walked. His backpack was heavy and he was tempted to stop and rest, but the numbness in his feet convinced him it would be better to keep going, to get indoors as quickly as he could.
Greg was happy when he finally saw the familiar Comfort Inn sign, the lights long burnt out. Not that it mattered, the hotel no longer needed to advertise. Its inhabitants were no longer the temporary kind. Some people came and went, sure. Nomads who were always moving to a different town, looking for a better situation. But most people stayed, knowing that this was about as good as it was going to get. Besides, it wasn’t easy to procure accommodation. You nearly had to sell your soul, and Greg felt lucky for what they had. Others they once knew were not so lucky, but Greg banished the thought, too cold to sink into melancholy.
Inside at last, Greg crossed the lobby. He passed the map on the wall, its Plexiglas protection the only thing protecting it from having been burned long ago. Welcome to Kapuskasing, it read, reminding Greg that this town once welcomed visitors, they actively sought tourism. Now it was over-populated, people having migrated north from pretty much anywhere south of the 49th parallel.
“Hey,” he said as he opened the door of their room, happy to be home at last.
“Hey,” Nick said, getting up to help him with his backpack. “Feels like you did well.”
“Yeah, they brought in lots of canned goods this time,” he said, happy despite the ache in his shoulders and back.
“Thanks for going,” Nick said, giving him a quick kiss. “You’re so cold.”
“It was my turn,” Greg said, shrugging. He let Nick divest him of his layers of outerwear. He was quite capable of doing it himself, but fussing over him was just Nick’s way. It was easier to let him do it than to fight it. Besides, Nick wasn’t stopping at the outer layers, and Greg realized how he planned to warm him up, which he’d take that over a roaring fire any day.
Later, as they lie in bed, Greg could practically see the weight on Nick’s mind.
“What’s wrong, Nick?”
“Hmm?” Nick asked, distracted.
“You’re thinking.”
“Dave stopped by today.”
Greg knew what was coming and sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t,” he said. “Every time he comes here he tries to recruit you.”
“With good reason, Greg. They’re really short-handed. They need people with a history in law enforcement.”
Greg turned away, having heard all the arguments before. He was tired of hearing about the RCMP and how much they needed Nick Stokes.
“I just feel like I should be doing something, G.”
“You are doing something. You’re here with me, just trying to survive. Living. You can’t save the world this time Nick,” Greg said. “It’s already fucked up beyond repair.”
Nick kissed Greg’s neck, and Greg knew that meant he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. That was fine, it meant one more day of holding Nick here. And if there was one thing he’d learned in the last five years, it was that life could only be lived one day at a time.
nekosmuse, who wanted post-apocolyptic fic.Nick/Greg, Rated R for language?
Untitled post-apocolyptic ficlet:
Greg used to think winter in Palo Alto was cold. He knew, of course, that it wasn’t cold in comparison to other parts of the country and world, but coming from Southern California, it felt downright frigid. Of course that was before Vegas. It could get pretty damn cold out in the desert in the middle of the night. But Greg didn’t know what cold was, not really, until he came here.
His ears were freezing, even under his red and yellow Home Hardware toque, and he kept his mittened hands clapped over them as he walked. His backpack was heavy and he was tempted to stop and rest, but the numbness in his feet convinced him it would be better to keep going, to get indoors as quickly as he could.
Greg was happy when he finally saw the familiar Comfort Inn sign, the lights long burnt out. Not that it mattered, the hotel no longer needed to advertise. Its inhabitants were no longer the temporary kind. Some people came and went, sure. Nomads who were always moving to a different town, looking for a better situation. But most people stayed, knowing that this was about as good as it was going to get. Besides, it wasn’t easy to procure accommodation. You nearly had to sell your soul, and Greg felt lucky for what they had. Others they once knew were not so lucky, but Greg banished the thought, too cold to sink into melancholy.
Inside at last, Greg crossed the lobby. He passed the map on the wall, its Plexiglas protection the only thing protecting it from having been burned long ago. Welcome to Kapuskasing, it read, reminding Greg that this town once welcomed visitors, they actively sought tourism. Now it was over-populated, people having migrated north from pretty much anywhere south of the 49th parallel.
“Hey,” he said as he opened the door of their room, happy to be home at last.
“Hey,” Nick said, getting up to help him with his backpack. “Feels like you did well.”
“Yeah, they brought in lots of canned goods this time,” he said, happy despite the ache in his shoulders and back.
“Thanks for going,” Nick said, giving him a quick kiss. “You’re so cold.”
“It was my turn,” Greg said, shrugging. He let Nick divest him of his layers of outerwear. He was quite capable of doing it himself, but fussing over him was just Nick’s way. It was easier to let him do it than to fight it. Besides, Nick wasn’t stopping at the outer layers, and Greg realized how he planned to warm him up, which he’d take that over a roaring fire any day.
Later, as they lie in bed, Greg could practically see the weight on Nick’s mind.
“What’s wrong, Nick?”
“Hmm?” Nick asked, distracted.
“You’re thinking.”
“Dave stopped by today.”
Greg knew what was coming and sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t,” he said. “Every time he comes here he tries to recruit you.”
“With good reason, Greg. They’re really short-handed. They need people with a history in law enforcement.”
Greg turned away, having heard all the arguments before. He was tired of hearing about the RCMP and how much they needed Nick Stokes.
“I just feel like I should be doing something, G.”
“You are doing something. You’re here with me, just trying to survive. Living. You can’t save the world this time Nick,” Greg said. “It’s already fucked up beyond repair.”
Nick kissed Greg’s neck, and Greg knew that meant he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. That was fine, it meant one more day of holding Nick here. And if there was one thing he’d learned in the last five years, it was that life could only be lived one day at a time.
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Date: 2004-12-21 10:47 pm (UTC)Great work!
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Date: 2004-12-22 05:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-21 11:07 pm (UTC)Really really like this! Thanks for posting!
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Date: 2004-12-22 05:09 am (UTC)Thank you :)
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Date: 2004-12-21 11:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-22 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-22 02:20 am (UTC)I liked the imagery especially, the whole background (as far as it went) and Nick's and Greg's relationship.
Heh, now I have this picture of both Nick and Greg in overall underwear (Wild West style) living in a hut somewhere in North Dakota or Montana.
Uhm, yeah. =)
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