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nickngregIn honor of it being Friday, I present the following:
Title: Snapshots
Rating: PG13
Summary: A short trip through Nick's brain. Based loosely on a writing exercise I came up with a couple of years ago.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would have a bigger apartment.
**flash**
The new DNA tech is in his lab, bent over a microscope, and then he straightens up and turns around and smiles at me. Brown eyes so deep I could drown in them, and the world stops spinning for a second and it’s the catching up with the world again that makes me dizzy. Isn’t it?
**flash**
I bring him Kristy’s shirt and he gives me a lecture on spit, and I could stand there and listen to a lecture on anything if it means I could keep watching his mouth. I wonder if he knows I’m only half listening; the other half is wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
**flash**
He’s giving me a lecture again, this time on liquid latex. Would it be more fun to paint it on him, or peel it off him? I’ll never know until I try.
**flash**
If Nigel had my house bugged, he knows about Greg. God, what if Nigel had gone after him? Not thinking about that.
**flash**
He’s trying to kill me, that’s what. First liquid latex and now dish soap. I wish he’d stop that; every time I get a lecture, I imagine whatever liquid he’s talking about, running down his body…good thing latex and dish soap aren’t edible, or I might not be able to think about anything but chasing the liquid down him with my tongue…damn.
**flash**
Drugged and bandaged and hospital-gowned and sluggish, he’s still beautiful. No longer undamaged, but still beautiful.
**flash**
I wasn’t ticklish until he taught me to be. His mouth is moving down my ribcage and I’m not sure which is worse; what will happen if he stops, or what will happen if he doesn’t.
**flash**
He told Grissom his shaking hands were nothing. Grissom hasn’t seen him at home, though. I found him the other evening standing in front of the living room window, staring at his hands and willing them to stop shaking, and tears running down his face because he couldn’t do it,
**flash**
Having that G tattooed on my hip means he can always find the hot spot right around there, and I love watching him look for it. I would never have gotten the tattoo in the first place, but when he went off to that seminar in Tucson and I found the N on his hip when he came home…that was a good night.
**flash**
No promotion. Damn it. My condo is too small for all our stuff, and Greg’s had to get rid of so much already. I wanted to take him househunting for our anniversary, but without the promotion I can’t afford it. At least he’ll get a new toy for the lab out of it. I just hope he’s in the lab long enough to enjoy it; somebody ought to get some good out of this.
**flash**
He’s standing in the hall looking like Grissom hit him in the back of the head with a board. Then it hits him, he’s passed his proficiency, and his whole body lights up. The “wait till I get you home” look he gives me behind everyone’s back makes me blush.
**flash**
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m home, in bed, with Greg. I’m not…wherever I am, in a glass box. I’ll wake up any minute now. Any minute.
**flash**
Greg, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you, but I can’t stand it any more. One bullet and it’ll be done. I’ll find you again, somehow, I promise…
**flash**
“Nick? Come on, man, wake up. Come on…”
“Mmph? G? What…”
“Hey, easy, don’t get up yet. You got clocked pretty good when that garage door came down. Guess now we know why the vic didn’t park in the garage, huh?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Listen, when we get home, remind me to show you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, babe. Now let’s get you back to the lab so Griss can send you home. I’ve got something to show you, too.”
Title: Snapshots
Rating: PG13
Summary: A short trip through Nick's brain. Based loosely on a writing exercise I came up with a couple of years ago.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, I would have a bigger apartment.
**flash**
The new DNA tech is in his lab, bent over a microscope, and then he straightens up and turns around and smiles at me. Brown eyes so deep I could drown in them, and the world stops spinning for a second and it’s the catching up with the world again that makes me dizzy. Isn’t it?
**flash**
I bring him Kristy’s shirt and he gives me a lecture on spit, and I could stand there and listen to a lecture on anything if it means I could keep watching his mouth. I wonder if he knows I’m only half listening; the other half is wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
**flash**
He’s giving me a lecture again, this time on liquid latex. Would it be more fun to paint it on him, or peel it off him? I’ll never know until I try.
**flash**
If Nigel had my house bugged, he knows about Greg. God, what if Nigel had gone after him? Not thinking about that.
**flash**
He’s trying to kill me, that’s what. First liquid latex and now dish soap. I wish he’d stop that; every time I get a lecture, I imagine whatever liquid he’s talking about, running down his body…good thing latex and dish soap aren’t edible, or I might not be able to think about anything but chasing the liquid down him with my tongue…damn.
**flash**
Drugged and bandaged and hospital-gowned and sluggish, he’s still beautiful. No longer undamaged, but still beautiful.
**flash**
I wasn’t ticklish until he taught me to be. His mouth is moving down my ribcage and I’m not sure which is worse; what will happen if he stops, or what will happen if he doesn’t.
**flash**
He told Grissom his shaking hands were nothing. Grissom hasn’t seen him at home, though. I found him the other evening standing in front of the living room window, staring at his hands and willing them to stop shaking, and tears running down his face because he couldn’t do it,
**flash**
Having that G tattooed on my hip means he can always find the hot spot right around there, and I love watching him look for it. I would never have gotten the tattoo in the first place, but when he went off to that seminar in Tucson and I found the N on his hip when he came home…that was a good night.
**flash**
No promotion. Damn it. My condo is too small for all our stuff, and Greg’s had to get rid of so much already. I wanted to take him househunting for our anniversary, but without the promotion I can’t afford it. At least he’ll get a new toy for the lab out of it. I just hope he’s in the lab long enough to enjoy it; somebody ought to get some good out of this.
**flash**
He’s standing in the hall looking like Grissom hit him in the back of the head with a board. Then it hits him, he’s passed his proficiency, and his whole body lights up. The “wait till I get you home” look he gives me behind everyone’s back makes me blush.
**flash**
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m home, in bed, with Greg. I’m not…wherever I am, in a glass box. I’ll wake up any minute now. Any minute.
**flash**
Greg, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you, but I can’t stand it any more. One bullet and it’ll be done. I’ll find you again, somehow, I promise…
**flash**
“Nick? Come on, man, wake up. Come on…”
“Mmph? G? What…”
“Hey, easy, don’t get up yet. You got clocked pretty good when that garage door came down. Guess now we know why the vic didn’t park in the garage, huh?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Listen, when we get home, remind me to show you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, babe. Now let’s get you back to the lab so Griss can send you home. I’ve got something to show you, too.”
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Date: 2006-04-09 04:03 pm (UTC)Well, I just had to use my icon for that;-) Lovely snapshots of Nicky's mind. Thanks for posting. I really enjoyed this. (I'd love to know what Greg was thinking at the time: another idea for a writing exercise?)