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Aug. 1st, 2006 04:11 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
piratekitten.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Never Quite Quitting
Author: Piratekitten
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Theme: 01. Starlight for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
101_kisses
Rating: PG, to be on the safe side
Disclaimer: Only wishing I could own them.
It always feels like a game to him, as he sneaks outside to grab one last drag; one last cigarette. He’s always telling himself he’s going to quit – today, tomorrow, next week – but never brings himself around to doing so. He’s always telling Nick he’s going to quit, but Nick’s begun to shake his head and tell him that he can quit in his own time.
But it always feels like a game to him, this wanting to quit, but never having the willpower to do so.
He cups his hands around his cigarette (this has to be the last one, he reiterates to himself) as he lights it, keeping the flickering flame out of the faint desert breeze. He takes a long drag, feeling the smoke going into his lungs – almost like the time of the explosion at the lab – and settling in there, like a small animal nestling into his chest before he releases the smoke again in exhale.
As he watches the smoke curl up to the stars above, he hears the door open behind him, and he sneaks to the other side of his Jetta, hoping upon hope that Nick hasn’t seen him; hasn’t seen another broken promise of his quitting this habit.
Another puff in, keep it down for a second, and release.
“G, you out here?” Nick’s voice is quiet; it’s a rare night off for both of them and the neighbors are sleeping peacefully in their beds, unaware that he’s breaking a promise he’s made to both himself and his partner.
He doesn’t answer, only burrows deeper into his (stolen from Nick) sweatshirt, concentrating on his cigarette – breathe in, plume out – and watches the smoke spiral up into the starlight.
The door shuts, and he leans over to glance through the windows of his Jetta, gauging where Nick is. Nick’s still by the door, bare-chested and arms across his chest, looking around for him. As he watches, Nick steps off the doorstop, coming toward the Jetta.
“Don’t think I don’t see you over there.” Nick warns him as he approaches the silver car. “And don’t think I don’t see that cigarette you’re smoking.”
He feels particularly childish as he turns his back to the older man, leaning back and resting against the Jetta, one arm tucking up into the opposite armpit and the other coming up to remove the cigarette from his mouth. “I’ll quit as soon as this pack is done.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches his boyfriend come around the car. He can’t quite tell in the mix of starlight and streetlight if Nick’s annoyed by him or not. “Didn’t you say that about the last pack?”
“I’m saying it about this one.” Another drag, another puff into the night air. “Promise.”
Nick sighs, and leans back against the silver Jetta next to him. “One of these days, I’m going to hold you to that promise you keep making.”
He grunts, putting his cigarette back in his mouth so he’s excused from talking anymore on the subject. They stand there a moment, overlooking the quiet street, feeling the faint desert breeze and finally Nick turns slightly, looking at him. He glances back, meaning it to be brief but when Nick reaches out and snags the cigarette from where it droops on his lower lip, the gaze is longer. And the gaze becomes even longer when Nick puts the cigarette in his own mouth and takes a drag.
“These are going to kill you one day.” Nick reminds him, like always, as he exhales the smoke. But he’s not quite hearing him; he’s watching Nick’s lips, feeling as if sharing a cigarette is really like sharing a kiss. The same swapping spit principle is there, so it must be like a mutual kiss.
Nick’s eyes flicker his way as the older man takes another drag off the cigarette, then flicks the cigarette out into the dewy grass.
“Come on. Let’s go back to bed. You’ve had your cigarette.”
He grunts again, leaning in to lightly kiss his boyfriend, as if trying to catch one last hint of his cigarette.
And when Nick heads back inside, he follows, vowing to himself once more that he’s going to stop playing the game of never quite quitting.
Author: Piratekitten
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Theme: 01. Starlight for the
101_kissesRating: PG, to be on the safe side
Disclaimer: Only wishing I could own them.
It always feels like a game to him, as he sneaks outside to grab one last drag; one last cigarette. He’s always telling himself he’s going to quit – today, tomorrow, next week – but never brings himself around to doing so. He’s always telling Nick he’s going to quit, but Nick’s begun to shake his head and tell him that he can quit in his own time.
But it always feels like a game to him, this wanting to quit, but never having the willpower to do so.
He cups his hands around his cigarette (this has to be the last one, he reiterates to himself) as he lights it, keeping the flickering flame out of the faint desert breeze. He takes a long drag, feeling the smoke going into his lungs – almost like the time of the explosion at the lab – and settling in there, like a small animal nestling into his chest before he releases the smoke again in exhale.
As he watches the smoke curl up to the stars above, he hears the door open behind him, and he sneaks to the other side of his Jetta, hoping upon hope that Nick hasn’t seen him; hasn’t seen another broken promise of his quitting this habit.
Another puff in, keep it down for a second, and release.
“G, you out here?” Nick’s voice is quiet; it’s a rare night off for both of them and the neighbors are sleeping peacefully in their beds, unaware that he’s breaking a promise he’s made to both himself and his partner.
He doesn’t answer, only burrows deeper into his (stolen from Nick) sweatshirt, concentrating on his cigarette – breathe in, plume out – and watches the smoke spiral up into the starlight.
The door shuts, and he leans over to glance through the windows of his Jetta, gauging where Nick is. Nick’s still by the door, bare-chested and arms across his chest, looking around for him. As he watches, Nick steps off the doorstop, coming toward the Jetta.
“Don’t think I don’t see you over there.” Nick warns him as he approaches the silver car. “And don’t think I don’t see that cigarette you’re smoking.”
He feels particularly childish as he turns his back to the older man, leaning back and resting against the Jetta, one arm tucking up into the opposite armpit and the other coming up to remove the cigarette from his mouth. “I’ll quit as soon as this pack is done.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches his boyfriend come around the car. He can’t quite tell in the mix of starlight and streetlight if Nick’s annoyed by him or not. “Didn’t you say that about the last pack?”
“I’m saying it about this one.” Another drag, another puff into the night air. “Promise.”
Nick sighs, and leans back against the silver Jetta next to him. “One of these days, I’m going to hold you to that promise you keep making.”
He grunts, putting his cigarette back in his mouth so he’s excused from talking anymore on the subject. They stand there a moment, overlooking the quiet street, feeling the faint desert breeze and finally Nick turns slightly, looking at him. He glances back, meaning it to be brief but when Nick reaches out and snags the cigarette from where it droops on his lower lip, the gaze is longer. And the gaze becomes even longer when Nick puts the cigarette in his own mouth and takes a drag.
“These are going to kill you one day.” Nick reminds him, like always, as he exhales the smoke. But he’s not quite hearing him; he’s watching Nick’s lips, feeling as if sharing a cigarette is really like sharing a kiss. The same swapping spit principle is there, so it must be like a mutual kiss.
Nick’s eyes flicker his way as the older man takes another drag off the cigarette, then flicks the cigarette out into the dewy grass.
“Come on. Let’s go back to bed. You’ve had your cigarette.”
He grunts again, leaning in to lightly kiss his boyfriend, as if trying to catch one last hint of his cigarette.
And when Nick heads back inside, he follows, vowing to himself once more that he’s going to stop playing the game of never quite quitting.
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Date: 2006-08-01 10:32 am (UTC)and Greg should really stop playing around and stop, everyone should, seriously...
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Date: 2006-08-01 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-01 04:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-01 06:48 pm (UTC)But honestly, this was so well-written and had such a realistisc atmosphere to it... What can I say, I'm in awe! :D