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Mar. 8th, 2006 10:39 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kennedy-unknown.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Magic 8
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nick/Greg, pre-slash
Genre: Humor, Drama
Warnings: None
Just a one-off, where Greg seeks advice from an unlikely source.
Greg Sanders tapped his pen against his lips and then chewed it savagely.
His attention was firmly divided between two objects.
One was the Magic 8 Ball that sat next to his mousepad.
The other was his co-worker, Nick Stokes, who sat in the lab across the hall from his own. Nick was currently hunched over a laptop, completely unaware that he was being stared at as he worked on a pile of overdue reports.
Completely clueless sniffed Greg, unaware that ink was starting to dribble between the cracks of the half-masticated pen barrel and was slowly turning his lower lip blue.
Nick’s t-shirt strained over the muscles of his shoulders and upper-back as he reached into the desk drawer for a pen. Greg smiled goofily, admiring him from afar.
It was a slow night in the lab. Greg really had nothing to do but run tests, wait for them to end, and then slot the next tests in. He did a complete whirl on his chair, watching the room spin around him. He paused when he came back to his starting point, and once again studied the Magic 8 Ball.
Magic 8. Purveyor of secrets. All-seeing prognosticator.
“Do you know?” Greg whispered, leaning in close, looking around him. The last thing he needed was someone to walk in and wonder why he was talking to a toy that could be bought in any cheap gift shop.
Of course, the Magic 8 didn’t answer. It had to be held by the supplicant in order to give an answer.
Greg cocked an eyebrow, to let it know that he wasn’t an easy mark. He wasn’t like some kid that would be conned at a carnival by a faux gypsy with a spray-painted bowling ball and some incense. He was in control.
He looked over at Nick through lowered eyebrows. He was still blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil of the lab rat a mere fifteen feet away from him.
Greg spun around on his chair once more, swooped up the Magic 8, and embarked upon one more rotation. Flushed and slightly dizzy, he now felt crazy enough to do what he wanted.
“Magic 8,” he said with a grave tone that he hoped was obsequious enough, “Should I tell Nick?”
He shook the ball vigorously. The liquid within the centre bubbled and frothed as if it was in a spin-cycle. Greg thumped the ball on the table, and waited for the answer to be revealed.
Most definitely.
Greg’s heart seemed to stop beating, and sweat stood out in pin-pricks upon his forehead. “Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough.”
Two more circuits on the chair, his brain seeming to ricochet off the walls of his skull.
“Magic 8, should I tell Nick that I value his friendship more than he thinks?”
Froth and bubble and slam.
All signs point to Yes.
Greg sighed. Why had he even started this?
Time to spin---
On his first circuit, he saw someone appear in the doorway.
“Greg? What are you doing?”
Greg threw out an arm to balance himself, but caught the edge of the desk and this threw him off. As he tumbled to the floor, the shadow raced over to him.
“Are you okay?”
It was Sara, scented like patchouli and trying not to laugh.
“Fine – I’m fine!”
She helped him up, and he staggered back onto his chair.
“Are you that bored, Greg?” A slight smile tugged at her lips.
“Not at all. Just waiting for some tests to run.”
“Are mine done?”
He glanced at his computer screen. “No, they’ll probably be about another twenty minutes.”
“Page me when they’re finished? Oh, and Nick is waiting for you.”
Greg’s head jerked up, and his ears began to burn. “Wha--- huh?”
“To get back to him about some tests.”
“Oh – yeah.”
“Don’t strain yourself, Greg.” Sara grinned, deciding not to tell him that his lips were bright blue, and took her leave.
Nick still had his back to him, but he seemed to be staring off into space, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. Beautiful, beautiful Nick – the one person Greg felt genuinely happy and comfortable around, but also made him unbearably sad because he wanted more than the status of friendship. And these feelings were not lessening with time.
“Come on, give me an answer I can deal with.” Greg muttered. “Magic 8, should I tell Nick I…” he fumbled with the word, “love him?”
Churn, churn, churn – both ball and heart.
The taunting piece of plastic surfaced.
All signs point to Yes.
“Stupid Magic 8 ball!” Greg hissed. “What do you know?”
Like a ball could know about the difficulty of truth! It was easy for it to make judgment calls, because it wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences! It could just vomit its answer and go back to being a kitschy paperweight, either unaware or just not caring about how it would make the user feel!
Greg scooped the offending psychic up and stormed over to his bunsen burner. He set the flame to blue and extreme, closing his eyes briefly and letting the sound of the flame’s fire soothe him.
“Last chance.” Greg told his nemesis. “I’ll lay all the cards on the table. Should I tell Nick I love him, that I can’t get through an hour without thinking of him, that I lie in bed at night thinking of schmoopy things like holding hands in a movie with him? That I wonder what his hair looks like when he first wakes up in the morning? Should I tell him all this, and risk destroying the best friendship I have possibly ever had to chase a vague dream?”
In slow motion, the triangle swam lazily through the churning blue waters, twisting and turning, taking its time to think over its answer, agonizing Greg with each passing second.
Like a figure from a nightmare dreamed by HP Lovecraft, the answer emerged.
All signs point to Yes.
With a muffled cry of vengeance and frustration, Greg brandished a large pair of tongs like a weapon, and submitted the Magic 8 ball to the flame of the burner. The plastic began to shrivel, peeling back as if it was screaming. Greg began to laugh as it twisted beneath the tongs, the central unit of liquid becoming exposed. He pulled it away just as it exploded, sending dye over his lab-coat. The answer cube fell into the flame, then back out, where it came to rest, smouldering even still.
All signs point to Yes.
Still provoking him.
Greg swept the corpse of the psychic into his waste-basket with a deranged cackle. Satisfied, he turned around to once more look at the object of his affections.
Nick was watching him through the window of the lab in which he was working. He gave Greg a quizzical look that asked Are you okay?
Hoping that his own expression didn’t give him away, Greg gave him a wide smile and a thumbs-up. Nick’s brows knitted together, but he turned back to his laptop and sat down once more.
His heart thudding uncontrollably, Greg sat back at his desk and sighed heavily. The Magic 8 might be telling him what he should do, but it couldn’t make him.
The pinging sound from his computer alerted him to the fact that a batch of tests had completed running. All signs pointed to yes, but his heart screamed not yet, and Nick was never off his mind.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nick/Greg, pre-slash
Genre: Humor, Drama
Warnings: None
Just a one-off, where Greg seeks advice from an unlikely source.
Greg Sanders tapped his pen against his lips and then chewed it savagely.
His attention was firmly divided between two objects.
One was the Magic 8 Ball that sat next to his mousepad.
The other was his co-worker, Nick Stokes, who sat in the lab across the hall from his own. Nick was currently hunched over a laptop, completely unaware that he was being stared at as he worked on a pile of overdue reports.
Completely clueless sniffed Greg, unaware that ink was starting to dribble between the cracks of the half-masticated pen barrel and was slowly turning his lower lip blue.
Nick’s t-shirt strained over the muscles of his shoulders and upper-back as he reached into the desk drawer for a pen. Greg smiled goofily, admiring him from afar.
It was a slow night in the lab. Greg really had nothing to do but run tests, wait for them to end, and then slot the next tests in. He did a complete whirl on his chair, watching the room spin around him. He paused when he came back to his starting point, and once again studied the Magic 8 Ball.
Magic 8. Purveyor of secrets. All-seeing prognosticator.
“Do you know?” Greg whispered, leaning in close, looking around him. The last thing he needed was someone to walk in and wonder why he was talking to a toy that could be bought in any cheap gift shop.
Of course, the Magic 8 didn’t answer. It had to be held by the supplicant in order to give an answer.
Greg cocked an eyebrow, to let it know that he wasn’t an easy mark. He wasn’t like some kid that would be conned at a carnival by a faux gypsy with a spray-painted bowling ball and some incense. He was in control.
He looked over at Nick through lowered eyebrows. He was still blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil of the lab rat a mere fifteen feet away from him.
Greg spun around on his chair once more, swooped up the Magic 8, and embarked upon one more rotation. Flushed and slightly dizzy, he now felt crazy enough to do what he wanted.
“Magic 8,” he said with a grave tone that he hoped was obsequious enough, “Should I tell Nick?”
He shook the ball vigorously. The liquid within the centre bubbled and frothed as if it was in a spin-cycle. Greg thumped the ball on the table, and waited for the answer to be revealed.
Most definitely.
Greg’s heart seemed to stop beating, and sweat stood out in pin-pricks upon his forehead. “Maybe I wasn’t being clear enough.”
Two more circuits on the chair, his brain seeming to ricochet off the walls of his skull.
“Magic 8, should I tell Nick that I value his friendship more than he thinks?”
Froth and bubble and slam.
All signs point to Yes.
Greg sighed. Why had he even started this?
Time to spin---
On his first circuit, he saw someone appear in the doorway.
“Greg? What are you doing?”
Greg threw out an arm to balance himself, but caught the edge of the desk and this threw him off. As he tumbled to the floor, the shadow raced over to him.
“Are you okay?”
It was Sara, scented like patchouli and trying not to laugh.
“Fine – I’m fine!”
She helped him up, and he staggered back onto his chair.
“Are you that bored, Greg?” A slight smile tugged at her lips.
“Not at all. Just waiting for some tests to run.”
“Are mine done?”
He glanced at his computer screen. “No, they’ll probably be about another twenty minutes.”
“Page me when they’re finished? Oh, and Nick is waiting for you.”
Greg’s head jerked up, and his ears began to burn. “Wha--- huh?”
“To get back to him about some tests.”
“Oh – yeah.”
“Don’t strain yourself, Greg.” Sara grinned, deciding not to tell him that his lips were bright blue, and took her leave.
Nick still had his back to him, but he seemed to be staring off into space, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. Beautiful, beautiful Nick – the one person Greg felt genuinely happy and comfortable around, but also made him unbearably sad because he wanted more than the status of friendship. And these feelings were not lessening with time.
“Come on, give me an answer I can deal with.” Greg muttered. “Magic 8, should I tell Nick I…” he fumbled with the word, “love him?”
Churn, churn, churn – both ball and heart.
The taunting piece of plastic surfaced.
All signs point to Yes.
“Stupid Magic 8 ball!” Greg hissed. “What do you know?”
Like a ball could know about the difficulty of truth! It was easy for it to make judgment calls, because it wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences! It could just vomit its answer and go back to being a kitschy paperweight, either unaware or just not caring about how it would make the user feel!
Greg scooped the offending psychic up and stormed over to his bunsen burner. He set the flame to blue and extreme, closing his eyes briefly and letting the sound of the flame’s fire soothe him.
“Last chance.” Greg told his nemesis. “I’ll lay all the cards on the table. Should I tell Nick I love him, that I can’t get through an hour without thinking of him, that I lie in bed at night thinking of schmoopy things like holding hands in a movie with him? That I wonder what his hair looks like when he first wakes up in the morning? Should I tell him all this, and risk destroying the best friendship I have possibly ever had to chase a vague dream?”
In slow motion, the triangle swam lazily through the churning blue waters, twisting and turning, taking its time to think over its answer, agonizing Greg with each passing second.
Like a figure from a nightmare dreamed by HP Lovecraft, the answer emerged.
All signs point to Yes.
With a muffled cry of vengeance and frustration, Greg brandished a large pair of tongs like a weapon, and submitted the Magic 8 ball to the flame of the burner. The plastic began to shrivel, peeling back as if it was screaming. Greg began to laugh as it twisted beneath the tongs, the central unit of liquid becoming exposed. He pulled it away just as it exploded, sending dye over his lab-coat. The answer cube fell into the flame, then back out, where it came to rest, smouldering even still.
All signs point to Yes.
Still provoking him.
Greg swept the corpse of the psychic into his waste-basket with a deranged cackle. Satisfied, he turned around to once more look at the object of his affections.
Nick was watching him through the window of the lab in which he was working. He gave Greg a quizzical look that asked Are you okay?
Hoping that his own expression didn’t give him away, Greg gave him a wide smile and a thumbs-up. Nick’s brows knitted together, but he turned back to his laptop and sat down once more.
His heart thudding uncontrollably, Greg sat back at his desk and sighed heavily. The Magic 8 might be telling him what he should do, but it couldn’t make him.
The pinging sound from his computer alerted him to the fact that a batch of tests had completed running. All signs pointed to yes, but his heart screamed not yet, and Nick was never off his mind.
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Date: 2006-03-08 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-03-09 06:46 pm (UTC)hump Nick senselessadmit everything to Nick.Magic Balls don't deserve the torture for being all-knowing!
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Date: 2006-03-10 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-09 08:03 pm (UTC)I love the last line: All signs pointed to yes, but his heart screamed not yet, and Nick was never off his mind.
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Date: 2006-03-10 12:33 am (UTC)