Moving In and Moving On 1/?
Aug. 15th, 2006 07:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregTitle: Moving In and Moving On
Author: Robinyj69
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, romance, post-ep, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Violence in later chapters
Summary: After the events of Stalker, Nick agrees to stay at Greg's place until he gets his life back in order. Things quickly escalate between them, but the road to happiness has many obstacles in its way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing CSI related, except my precious boxsets and they're mine!!! All mine!!!
Rating: NC-17 eventually. This chap is pretty PG.
Author: Robinyj69
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, romance, post-ep, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Violence in later chapters
Summary: After the events of Stalker, Nick agrees to stay at Greg's place until he gets his life back in order. Things quickly escalate between them, but the road to happiness has many obstacles in its way.
Disclaimer: I own nothing CSI related, except my precious boxsets and they're mine!!! All mine!!!
Rating: NC-17 eventually. This chap is pretty PG.
A/N: I have never posted here before and I'm very VERY new. Any help if I screw up some formatting stuff would be greatly appreciated.
Just another little note, this takes place directly after Stalker, so spoilers for that ep obviously, and please recall that this means Nick has not been buried and Greg has not been blown up yet. Not to insult anyone’s intelligence but as I was writing I constantly had to remind myself that Greg as yet has no issues and no scars from the explosion. Warning, updates may be slow and much is planned for our boys.
Moving in and Moving On
It was still early morning when Nick’s eyelids cracked open, and it was very early considering he had only gone to bed three hours before. Sighing, he thought for a moment about how much he really didn’t want to move. The room was a comfortable temperature thanks to the nearly silent air conditioner in the window, the bed seemed to have molded to his body in an attempt to keep him in place, and best of all, Greg’s head was resting soundly on his chest. And if there was one thing Nick never wanted to do, it was disturb Greg’s sleep.
Unfortunately, the annoying ringing of his cell phone had already woken Greg up too.
“You didn’t turn on the voicemail again, did you?” Greg accused sleepily, eyes still closed.
“No, sorry. Everyone we know is usually smart enough not to call during the day,” Nick apologized as he stretched to somehow reach the phone without having to make Greg move.
“Then it’s probably a telemarketer, just let it ring,” Greg suggested. He was fully aware that Nick was trying hard to make sure he stayed comfortable and he was grateful for that, because he had no intention of budging. Nick’s chest was just too comfortable.
“Telemarketer’s don’t call cell phones, G,” Nick reminded him as he finally snatched the cell off the side table. “Stokes. Oh, hi … uh huh. Well, do what you can … no, there’s no rush. I’d rather have it done right, than done fast. No, that’s not what I wanted, it has to be a cross-bar. Uh, I better just come over. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Nick sighed as he hung up the phone and Greg protested as well.
“No,” he whined, snaking an arm across Nick’s bare chest to keep him in place, having heard his treacherous plans to leave the warmth of the bed.
“Sorry, it was the guys fixing my roof, they’re … well they’re pretty much incompetent. I gotta go show them how I want things,” Nick explained apologetically, then kissed the top of Greg’s head in hopes it would be enough to get the younger man to move.
But Greg remained, “I don’t care. You’re my pillow, you’re staying right here.”
“Greg, I …”
“Shh, pillows don’t talk.”
Nick smiled and kissed Greg again, “Really, I gotta go, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you breakfast when I get back.”
Greg groaned, still not pleased about having to move, “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Fine, breakfast and a blowjob,” Nick promised, finally getting Greg to roll over reluctantly.
“Not in that order,” Greg demanded as a final concession, as he tried to get comfortable sleeping on an actual pillow.
“All right, not in that order. I’ll be back soon,” Nick promised, pulling on a pair of sweat pants as Greg just grunted a response and fell back to sleep.
Nick shook his head in amusement, yawned, and then headed for the shower. As he pulled back the curtain and turned on the water he was amazed, as he had been everyday for the past month, at the sheer amount of shelf space and hygienic products Greg managed to fit into his shower. There were shampoos, conditioners, leave-in conditioners, soap, body wash, bubble bath, a special shampoo for color-treated hair with another conditioner to match and a few things he didn’t know what were for. He thought that after a month he would have become used to the crowded shelves, even more full with his measly plain bottle of Perts Plus 2-in-1 Shampoo and Conditioner, but they were still surprising to him, which is what he loved about living with Greg.
He smiled, enjoying how good that sentence sounded: living with Greg.
It was probably one of the first times in history that two men had moved in together before they started dating, but that was exactly the way it had happened for them.
As Nick lathered up his soap, he remembered when Greg had first made his proposition. Nick had been standing alone in the observation room of the police precinct after Nigel Crane had been taken away to a holding cell. His entire world had just been turned around and he was completely lost in thought about why Crane had chosen him and how close he had come to being another body on Doc Robbins’ table. Just another case for the team to solve; an innocent person murdered by a psychopath. And he couldn’t help but wonder why he had been so lucky. Why he should survive when so many other people, every murder victim they had ever investigated, hadn’t made it. But he couldn’t figure it out because he was exhausted and his body screamed in protest at having to stay upright any longer when it was so battered.
He decided to go home and see if the medication the doctor had given him would be enough to keep him from thinking for awhile and just let him rest, which was what he needed. When he finally managed to get his incredibly sore body out into the hallway he was surprised to see there wasn’t a single CSI in sight, just a dirty blond labrat leaned against a wall and looking around nervously. And despite the unbelievably shitty day Nick had had, he couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw him. It was just his natural reaction to seeing Greg and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Nick, hey.”
“Hey G, what’s up?” he had greeted him, exhausted but willing to make the effort at conversation, just because it was Greg.
“Not too much, same old genomes to splice, coffee to guard, the usual. I uh, I heard about what happened though,” he started off shakily.
Nick grimaced. If Greg already knew the whole story then the entire lab most likely knew.
“Word’s already gotten around the lab, huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. People interested in my private life seems to be the theme of the day,” Nick sighed, suddenly even more exhausted, so much so that he didn’t notice Greg cringe, fully aware he had been one of the causes of Nick’s misery. He had only passed out the flyers to get Nick’s attention, and it had worked, but he had had no idea those very flyers would be the first step in the steady downward spiral of Nick’s day.
“We were all worried about you is all, and I just needed to see how you were doing after … everything,” Greg had replied, and it didn’t escape Nick’s notice how Greg had used the word ‘needed’ instead of ‘wanted’, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m in one piece, I guess that’s all you can ask for.”
Greg nodded at this, but didn’t seem comforted. In fact, he looked like he had had a pretty rough night himself, and his face was drawn with concern.
“Sure, that’s good. Glad to hear it. Well, just, if you need anything, like anything at all, let me know all right. Like, do you need a place to stay tonight or anything?” Greg asked bluntly. He tried to make it sound casual, like it was the natural progression of the conversation, when really his heart was pounding in his ears in anticipation of how Nick might reply.
But Nick had had a very long day and his mind wasn’t quite settled in reality yet, “Place to stay?”
“It’s just, I know I couldn’t stay alone if … well, besides, your house is a crime scene now, isn't it? You can’t get in there tonight. Hotels are a hassle and crazy expensive, so, my spare bedroom’s all yours if you want it?”
Or my bedroom, Greg added in his own head, but kept that thought to himself.
It took a moment, but eventually Nick shook his head as if to clear it and then brought a hand to his forehead with a sort of embarrassed realization.
“Wow, I must be more out of it than I thought. I didn’t even think of that. My roof pretty much caved in too. It could take weeks to fix.”
Clearly the gravity of what had happened to him was slowly starting to settle in for Nick, and Greg was eager to help any way possible.
“Yeah. Look, I’m off in like ten minutes. I’ve got one last sample to finish up but how about I meet you in the locker room in a few and then we’ll go to my place and you can get some sleep,” Greg offered, and cringed about how it had not come out the way he had intended.
Nick accepted though. More than appreciating the gesture and actually curious to see Greg’s place.
“That’ll be great. Thanks.”
The first night had been awkward. Nick had been so sore and exhausted that he was horrible company. He ate the quick meal Greg made for him to take his meds with and then went straight to bed in the spare bedroom, that he found surprisingly plain, not even bothering to change his clothes.
The next day Nick felt more like himself and really took in the townhouse and its nuances. He had been surprised by the size until he remembered that Greg made more money than him so could afford a spacious little home. Everything was modern and slick, clean and ordered like Greg’s lab, but also like the lab there were added touches of Greg-ness all over the place. The walls were a clean white with a few family photos but also with a few music posters. None of the tacky, cheap college type – they were all laminated on huge wooden plaques and were more art than a shameless band plug. The normally laid out living room was accentuated by a bright red rug that was so out of the place it only looked like it belonged due to the circular glass coffee table that stood on it. The top and legs were all clear glass with barely visible lights built into every crevice to make it glow in a relaxing blue hue at night. There were a hundred other little Greg touches like that and Nick immediately loved the entire place because it fit Greg’s personality so perfectly. Also, during those days while he tried to get over the physical and mental anguish of being stalked and attacked, he took comfort in the fact that the apartment allowed him to be completely surrounded and immersed in Greg, without the labrat actually having to be there.
As he rolled tentatively out of bed and into the hall on that first morning, Nick found that Greg was up before him, slaving away in the kitchen in a manner he didn’t seem particularly skilled at. The coffee was done and needed to be taken off the burner, but Greg had no chance to do it as he tried to flip the eggs he was making in one pan while also trying to make sure the bacon in the other pan didn’t burn. Nick smiled as he limped slowly into the kitchen, knowing the unorganized effort was for his benefit, even if it looked like it would be a less than perfect meal. But he knew it was the thought that counted.
“You know, traditionally, what you do is cook the bacon first and wrap it in paper towel so it will stay warm while you get the rest of the food ready,” Nick instructed as he walked up behind Greg, who hadn’t noticed him with all his fussing.
“Hey, morning. Well, thanks for the advice but your timing sucks. I definitely could have used that information before I started,” Greg replied, sighing as he realized he hadn’t pushed the toast down into the toaster, so it was still just bread.
“If I’d known you were gonna go all out I would have. Really G, you didn’t have to do all this … or, try to do all this anyway,” Nick said seriously as the coffee finally got removed from the burner.
Greg shrugged, “It’s no problem. You’ve had a shitty enough couple of days, I’m not gonna add to it by making you eat Cap’n Crunch for breakfast.”
Nick laughed, “You eat Cap’n Crunch?”
Greg blushed a little and turned back to the bacon.
“It was on sale.”
“Sure,” Nick said, as he sat at the kitchen island and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Greg finally got everything sorted out and split up the bacon and eggs onto two plates, then sat on the other side of the island.
“There you go, eggs-a-la-Greg. The uh, toast will be another minute. So, how’d you sleep?”
“Thanks. Not too bad actually. I thought, after everything, that I’d be up all night, but I conked out and didn’t wake up until I smelt what was clearly a masterfully made breakfast,” Nick joked, not mentioning how it had been an amazingly sound, restful sleep because he knew that Greg was nearby and took great comfort in that. Having the labrat around had always had an intoxicating effect on Nick since the first day they met. He had to smile when Greg was around, there was no other possible reaction and he was glad he had chosen to stay here instead of all the other friends’ houses he could have crashed at. He knew that no other place would be as comforting.
Across from him, Greg laughed at the barb on his cooking, “It’s the effort that counts okay.”
“It just amazes me that you can splice and replicate DNA but eggs and bacon seem to baffle you,” Nick continued good-heartedly.
“Yes, but I have a degree in DNA. I don’t have a degree in bacon,” Greg replied, accentuating his point with his fork.
Nick laughed but then they were mostly silent as they listened to the news on Greg’s kitchen radio. When they were both done Greg reached to take Nick’s plate, who immediately protested.
“I can get it, G.”
“No, I got it,” Greg argued. While they fought over who would take the plate their hands brushed briefly and the argument quickly ended as Nick relinquished and pulled away. They both blushed and neither made eye contact as Greg quickly shuffled over to the sink.
Nick sighed. Maybe it had been a mistake to agree to stay here, despite how much he wanted to be there. He knew he enjoyed spending time with Greg far too much, could sit and listen to him talk for hours and he knew that here in close quarters he may do something stupid. He could accidentally run his fingers through Greg’s hair, something he had wanted to do forever – he was desperate to know about the texture and how it did the crazy things it did. Or if they were on the couch talking, and they were close, Nick knew he would have to kiss those lips sooner or later. They taunted him with the way they easily formed complex scientific formulas or could ramble for minutes on end without missing a word or a syllable. He just wanted to run his thumb across the lower one and see if that would interrupt Greg’s tirade. And he imagined it wouldn’t. Greg would just keep going as Nick fondled him, kissing and touching him everywhere that he could reach.
Now Nick knew he was really in trouble because he could feel himself swelling down below along with these thoughts and he was only wearing sweat pants, which would hardly hide his growing erection. Thankfully Greg was still at the sink, rinsing off their plates and Nick took the chance to make a getaway into his temporary room. Once inside he sighed and leaned against the door, trying to convince himself not to lose Greg as a friend by telling him how he felt.
After all, there was no better way to lose a friend than by telling him you were more attracted to him than anyone else you had ever met in your life.
He could hear Greg shuffling around, still cleaning up their breakfast in the kitchen. Nick felt like a horrible guest by not going out there and helping but he knew he needed to create a little distance for now. Being surrounded by so much Greg-ness was putting him into overload. He could see Greg everywhere, could smell him in every crevice of the house and saw his personality in every piece of furniture and decoration. And of course, there was Greg himself. So close and so eager to help him through this traumatic time – and so painfully unaware of the strain his mere presence was putting on Nick. His room at least was a sanctuary. He didn’t know who normally stayed in it, but for some reason there was no trace of Greg inside. The walls were bare, the furniture was plain, even the bedspread was a dull shade of blue. And that was something Greg never was, dull.
It took a few minutes, but Nick eventually felt like he had composed himself and moved back into the hall, then headed to the living room and slowly lowered himself onto the couch and looked for the remote.
Greg was just finishing up the dishes and came into the living room still drying his hands.
“The playstation’s in that cupboard if you want a game,” he offered as he stood at the arm of the couch.
“Thanks, but I’d be playing with a pretty severe handicap,” Nick huffed, indicating his sprained wrist.
But Greg wasn’t deterred, “Yeah, it’s probably for the best anyway. I’m not known for taking prisoners.”
Nick laughed, “Well, you just wait until I’m better then, I’ll whoop you, and not just at playstation.”
Then the flirtatious smile Greg often wore at work made an appearance, “That a promise?”
Nick was taken a little aback and was contemplating an answer but was saved when Greg continued quickly.
“I’m gonna take a shower. You need the bathroom?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Nick waved him off and Greg disappeared down the hall.
A moment later his head returned, peering around the corner, “And the remote is usually down the left side cushion.”
Nick nodded, apparently Greg could read minds, and found the remote exactly where he had said.
“Gotcha,” he said to himself, immediately clicking to the discovery channel. However, when he heard the water start running in the shower he quickly became far more interested in Greg’s living room than anything the yellow-tailed chickadee might be up to.
Pushing himself off the couch slowly, he first studied the photographs displayed along the wall, smiling as he got a little insight into Greg’s life outside of the lab. There was Greg and what looked like some college friends around a huge birthday cake that Greg was scooping up with his hands, apparently aiming for the guy next to him. The next big thing was a diploma from Stanford that Nick admired for a moment, knowing it was a huge accomplishment.
The next picture showed Greg in a graduation outfit next to a well built graying, older man who smiled with pride as he crushed the much smaller Greg in a massive hug.
Nick smiled as well.
“Could this be the famous Grandpa Olaf?” he wondered as he carefully removed the picture from the frame to read the back.
Grandpa and I. Grad ’96.
He put the picture back carefully and then noticed the very last picture, purposely blown up to be slightly bigger than the rest.
He remembered when it had been taken, just a few months ago at the company picnic. Warrick and the others were in the background, but the main focus of the picture showed him and Greg, arms on each other’s shoulders in victory after beating a couple of patrol cops in a game of volleyball. It had been a proud moment, especially since the cops had been gloating about being able to beat the science geeks no problem, and it may have been Nick’s imagination, but he thought it was the one Greg looked the happiest in.
Putting the picture back he moved on to the bookshelf, finding all the basics. A few fiction novels, mostly crime stories, some forensics and chemistry textbooks and journals and the entire bottom shelf was devoted entirely to magazines. Nick took a moment to flip through them. There were a lot of Rolling Stone and music related stuff, a few Sand and Surfs and tucked away at the bottom was something Nick figured had to be a gift from someone that didn’t know Greg very well.
Rare Coins of the Early 1900’s
He pulled it out and opened it to find the pages were worn and some were even dog-eared as though it was used quite frequently. Nick shrugged and put it back – Greg really was a mystery in himself.
The final stack of magazines took Nick by surprise, it was all Car and Driver issues with a few other automotive titles mixed in. Nick had never known Greg to be a car buff, had noticed that his car knowledge seemed to be quite limited actually, so he was surprised by the magazines. He remembered telling Greg a few months ago that he should read Car and Driver instead of Sand and Surf so he would know the difference in the types of transmission fluid cars need. Looking through the stack, it seemed Greg had immediately taken his advice because there wasn’t a single issue dating back more than three months, the same time Nick had suggested it.
Nick smiled, enjoying the thought that he had impacted Greg’s life enough to get him to change his reading habits. He took the latest issue off the stack and moved back to the couch, pretty sure he hadn’t read it yet.
It was quiet and he was only a few pages in when his cracked ribs protested the position he was sitting in. He shifted, but then he wondered, could someone be watching him now? And suddenly he felt like he someone was. There was nothing wrong really, but there hadn’t been anything wrong during those days Crane had been watching him either, so was silence the first sign?
He stood up, unaware that he was being paranoid. Crossing the room, he closed the curtains and made sure the windows were locked and went into the kitchen to make sure that door was locked too. Walking slowly back to the couch, he still couldn’t relax and instead gazed up, looking at the ceiling for any sign of peepholes or spy equipment.
A door opened behind him. He started to reach for his gun, but it wasn’t there. Then he shook his head.
“Snap out of it man,” he thought as he tried to tell himself it was all in his head. It was just Greg coming out of the bathroom. There was no one watching him, no one waiting to strike out – there was just Greg. And that was all he wanted.
“Don’t go there either!” he told himself and tried doubly hard to focus on reading the magazine. But he had to turn around when he heard footsteps behind and then the magazine dropped to the floor, completely forgotten.
Greg was standing in the doorway, hair dripping wet and plastered to his head, wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
Nick swallowed and forced himself to look Greg in the eye instead of staring at the surprisingly great body Greg hid under that labcoat everyday at work. That didn’t help either though. Nick figured Greg must like his showers hot because his face was red and flushed from heat. He couldn’t help but watch a water droplet as it worked its way down Greg’s forehead, across his cheek and then down into the smooth crook of his neck. Nick was suddenly grateful his ribs were cracked, because if not for the pain when moving he was sure he would have tackled Greg right there and licked away every last beautiful droplet of water from his body.
“I’m done in the bathroom, if you need it,” Greg told him.
Nick didn’t respond right away. He nodded first, then a second later thought speaking might be good too so said, “kay. Thanks.”
“Sure,” Greg answered, lingered for one more second in the doorway, and then retreated to his own room. He was breathing harder than he should have been and unlike Nick he knew perfectly well that the flush of his cheeks was not from his shower, since he had just had a very cold shower. Greg sighed. Living this close to Nick, having him literally around the corner, or even in the room, would definitely require more than a fair share of cold showers in the coming days.
He dried off quickly, got dressed and then spent a little more time than usual on his hair, wanting it to look especially good if he was going to be around Nick all day. When he was sure he looked spectacular he took a deep breath and went into the living room to find that, yes, his dreams had been answered and Nick Stokes was sitting on his couch, even if it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.
Nick was thankful that Greg was fully dressed when he came back in. Even though the brief glimpse he had had of Greg’s body would fuel his fantasy fodder for weeks, he also knew he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions if Greg came back and was still showing some skin. Looking at the clock though, his brow furrowed.
“Cuttin’ it kind of close aren’t you G?” Nick asked.
Greg plopped next to him on the couch and tried to come off as casual, even though they were both very much aware of how close they were sitting to each other, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you usually start work at ten?”
Greg smiled, “Not on my day off I don’t.”
“Oh, I thought you were on today,” Nick explained and tried not to smile. Not only did this mean that Nick wouldn’t be alone all day, which he was grateful for after the night he had, but it also meant he would be spending the day with Greg, which was something new and exciting.
Greg did smile a little though, glad he had called Grissom the night before. He had wanted the rest of the team to know where Nick was and that he was all right and then had gone so far as to ask for the day off work so Nick wouldn’t be alone. Grissom had agreed whole-heartedly, and now here he was, next to Nick on the couch.
Greg’s smile widened as he thought of something to say to break the quick tension made by his seating choice, “So, I don’t know what you usually use, but if you feel like creating or building any toys while you’re here, let me know. I’m sure I can find you something to work with.”
“Oh, lay off, man,” Nick replied, laughing to himself as he struck Greg with a pillow for mentioning that horrible line in the Crimestopper article.
Easily deflecting the pillow, Greg laughed as well, “Seriously, you make toys? What was with that?”
“No I don’t make toys. God, I can’t believe they wrote that,” Nick mumbled.
“So you didn’t say it?”
“I said I used to make toys when I was little. I was talking to the victim’s son, trying to cheer him up, it was totally out of context,” Nick explained, knowing he was never going to live that article down.
“It’s still kind of funny,” Greg said, then added conversationally, “What did you used to make?”
“It’s stupid,” Nick waved him off, face reddening.
“Come on,” Greg egged him on. “I told you about my Cap’N Crunch.”
Nick smiled, unable to deny Greg anything, “I don’t remember many. I know once I put airplane wings on a fire truck so it could fly to the fire and not get stuck in traffic.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Greg shrugged, thinking it was pretty impressive for a child.
“What’d you do when you were little?” Nick asked, turning the conversation around as he was curious about Greg’s childhood.
Instead of smiling with fond memories, Greg scoffed at the question, “Played with my chemistry set and tried not to get beat up.”
“Seriously?” Nick’s brow furrowed at the serious direction this conversation looked like it would be taking.
Greg shrugged, having come to terms with his childhood, “You know how it is. The popular kids pick on the … less than popular kids.”
“That’s weird. I totally had you pegged as class clown.”
Greg actually laughed at this, “Oh no, that’s where the college make-over comes in. You move to a new city, redefine yourself, how you look and what you like, and then you figure out what kind of person you want to be. Trust me, my high school self was not the person I wanted to be.”
“I guess some people do that,” Nick mused, still unable to picture Greg as unpopular. He was so damn likeable and energetic, and drop dead gorgeous.
Greg’s voice knocked him out of those thoughts, “You didn’t do that?”
Nick shook his head, “Nah. I was the same guy in high school as college. Dependable, there for people. I guess I was okay popular.”
“You were popular,” Greg stated with infinite certainty.
“I was a dependable guy so people liked me. That doesn’t mean I was popular,” Nick argued. “Besides, I had a chemistry set too.”
“If you actually thought you fit in and were liked in high school, then you were popular, trust me. If you’re not popular, you never feel that way,” Greg explained. “And I bet you didn’t go around gloating about that chemistry set either.”
“Why weren’t you popular?” Nick asked, genuinely curious.
“I was just the trademark person to pick on, I guess. Scrawny guy, braces, captain of the chess team. Thank god I didn’t wear glasses on top of that,” Greg said seriously, then flashed a cheeky smile. “Plus, everyone was jealous of my good looks and fashion sense. It was all just resentment.”
“Yeah, that must have been it. Captain of the chess team?” Nick asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Greg nodded enthusiastically, not the least bit ashamed. “I got a trophy in my bedroom if you want to see it.”
Did Nick want to see Greg’s trophy? That was not a tough question. But Greg’s bedroom, that was off limits.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“All right. You want a game, I’ll show you myself.”
Nick never could back down from a challenge, “Set the board up Einstein. I’ll show you what us ‘popular’ people did with our brains.”
An hour later Nick succumbed to defeat for the third time. For his part, Greg was humble enough not to gloat, but was smiling in a very satisfied fashion.
“So, what did I win?” Greg asked playfully.
“My undying respect for your chess skills,” Nick replied, still looking at Greg’s last checkmate from all angles. “Man, a twelve move defeat, that’s just sad.”
Greg shrugged apologetically, “I could have had you in eight but I was being generous. Really Nick, you never lead with your center pawns.”
“Well, I’ll know that for next time then,” Nick replied and yawned while stretching very tentatively.
“You all right?” Greg asked, concerned even though chess wasn’t exactly strenuous.
“Yeah, just these pain meds make me drowsy,” Nick explained, then imaginatively added, “They make it hard to focus too. I want a rematch once I’m off them.”
“Anytime, anyplace,” Greg promised. “Why don’t you lay on the couch and watch a movie, you can drift off if you feel like it. I got some lab stuff I need to work on so you can pop in anything you like.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Nick agreed and moved himself back into the living room. He was almost nervous to see what Greg had for movies, but was pleasantly surprised to find it a pretty normal collection, with just a few Marilyn Manson concerts and stuff on DVD to make it a little more exciting.
“Haven’t seen this in awhile,” Nick mumbled, popping in The Shawshank Redemption and settling himself on the couch. He could hear Greg in the dining room behind him, cleaning up their chess game and setting up his laptop instead. The knowledge that someone was there with him, someone he knew and trusted, allowed him to relax and enjoy the movie, but an annoying voice at the back of his head asked him what he was going to do when Greg had to leave? Or Nick had to go back home, and he would be alone, with his thoughts and his injuries and his paranoia, and no one to distract him. No one to comfort him or protect him, just alone and vulnerable …
For now he told the voice to shut up and let his eyes drift shut in sleep because Greg was there, and Greg was more than enough.
TBC
The next chapter is less draggy, I promise and has the real slashy goodness. I’m so nervous about my first slash, tell me what you think???
Just another little note, this takes place directly after Stalker, so spoilers for that ep obviously, and please recall that this means Nick has not been buried and Greg has not been blown up yet. Not to insult anyone’s intelligence but as I was writing I constantly had to remind myself that Greg as yet has no issues and no scars from the explosion. Warning, updates may be slow and much is planned for our boys.
Moving in and Moving On
It was still early morning when Nick’s eyelids cracked open, and it was very early considering he had only gone to bed three hours before. Sighing, he thought for a moment about how much he really didn’t want to move. The room was a comfortable temperature thanks to the nearly silent air conditioner in the window, the bed seemed to have molded to his body in an attempt to keep him in place, and best of all, Greg’s head was resting soundly on his chest. And if there was one thing Nick never wanted to do, it was disturb Greg’s sleep.
Unfortunately, the annoying ringing of his cell phone had already woken Greg up too.
“You didn’t turn on the voicemail again, did you?” Greg accused sleepily, eyes still closed.
“No, sorry. Everyone we know is usually smart enough not to call during the day,” Nick apologized as he stretched to somehow reach the phone without having to make Greg move.
“Then it’s probably a telemarketer, just let it ring,” Greg suggested. He was fully aware that Nick was trying hard to make sure he stayed comfortable and he was grateful for that, because he had no intention of budging. Nick’s chest was just too comfortable.
“Telemarketer’s don’t call cell phones, G,” Nick reminded him as he finally snatched the cell off the side table. “Stokes. Oh, hi … uh huh. Well, do what you can … no, there’s no rush. I’d rather have it done right, than done fast. No, that’s not what I wanted, it has to be a cross-bar. Uh, I better just come over. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Nick sighed as he hung up the phone and Greg protested as well.
“No,” he whined, snaking an arm across Nick’s bare chest to keep him in place, having heard his treacherous plans to leave the warmth of the bed.
“Sorry, it was the guys fixing my roof, they’re … well they’re pretty much incompetent. I gotta go show them how I want things,” Nick explained apologetically, then kissed the top of Greg’s head in hopes it would be enough to get the younger man to move.
But Greg remained, “I don’t care. You’re my pillow, you’re staying right here.”
“Greg, I …”
“Shh, pillows don’t talk.”
Nick smiled and kissed Greg again, “Really, I gotta go, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you breakfast when I get back.”
Greg groaned, still not pleased about having to move, “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Fine, breakfast and a blowjob,” Nick promised, finally getting Greg to roll over reluctantly.
“Not in that order,” Greg demanded as a final concession, as he tried to get comfortable sleeping on an actual pillow.
“All right, not in that order. I’ll be back soon,” Nick promised, pulling on a pair of sweat pants as Greg just grunted a response and fell back to sleep.
Nick shook his head in amusement, yawned, and then headed for the shower. As he pulled back the curtain and turned on the water he was amazed, as he had been everyday for the past month, at the sheer amount of shelf space and hygienic products Greg managed to fit into his shower. There were shampoos, conditioners, leave-in conditioners, soap, body wash, bubble bath, a special shampoo for color-treated hair with another conditioner to match and a few things he didn’t know what were for. He thought that after a month he would have become used to the crowded shelves, even more full with his measly plain bottle of Perts Plus 2-in-1 Shampoo and Conditioner, but they were still surprising to him, which is what he loved about living with Greg.
He smiled, enjoying how good that sentence sounded: living with Greg.
It was probably one of the first times in history that two men had moved in together before they started dating, but that was exactly the way it had happened for them.
As Nick lathered up his soap, he remembered when Greg had first made his proposition. Nick had been standing alone in the observation room of the police precinct after Nigel Crane had been taken away to a holding cell. His entire world had just been turned around and he was completely lost in thought about why Crane had chosen him and how close he had come to being another body on Doc Robbins’ table. Just another case for the team to solve; an innocent person murdered by a psychopath. And he couldn’t help but wonder why he had been so lucky. Why he should survive when so many other people, every murder victim they had ever investigated, hadn’t made it. But he couldn’t figure it out because he was exhausted and his body screamed in protest at having to stay upright any longer when it was so battered.
He decided to go home and see if the medication the doctor had given him would be enough to keep him from thinking for awhile and just let him rest, which was what he needed. When he finally managed to get his incredibly sore body out into the hallway he was surprised to see there wasn’t a single CSI in sight, just a dirty blond labrat leaned against a wall and looking around nervously. And despite the unbelievably shitty day Nick had had, he couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw him. It was just his natural reaction to seeing Greg and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Nick, hey.”
“Hey G, what’s up?” he had greeted him, exhausted but willing to make the effort at conversation, just because it was Greg.
“Not too much, same old genomes to splice, coffee to guard, the usual. I uh, I heard about what happened though,” he started off shakily.
Nick grimaced. If Greg already knew the whole story then the entire lab most likely knew.
“Word’s already gotten around the lab, huh? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. People interested in my private life seems to be the theme of the day,” Nick sighed, suddenly even more exhausted, so much so that he didn’t notice Greg cringe, fully aware he had been one of the causes of Nick’s misery. He had only passed out the flyers to get Nick’s attention, and it had worked, but he had had no idea those very flyers would be the first step in the steady downward spiral of Nick’s day.
“We were all worried about you is all, and I just needed to see how you were doing after … everything,” Greg had replied, and it didn’t escape Nick’s notice how Greg had used the word ‘needed’ instead of ‘wanted’, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m in one piece, I guess that’s all you can ask for.”
Greg nodded at this, but didn’t seem comforted. In fact, he looked like he had had a pretty rough night himself, and his face was drawn with concern.
“Sure, that’s good. Glad to hear it. Well, just, if you need anything, like anything at all, let me know all right. Like, do you need a place to stay tonight or anything?” Greg asked bluntly. He tried to make it sound casual, like it was the natural progression of the conversation, when really his heart was pounding in his ears in anticipation of how Nick might reply.
But Nick had had a very long day and his mind wasn’t quite settled in reality yet, “Place to stay?”
“It’s just, I know I couldn’t stay alone if … well, besides, your house is a crime scene now, isn't it? You can’t get in there tonight. Hotels are a hassle and crazy expensive, so, my spare bedroom’s all yours if you want it?”
Or my bedroom, Greg added in his own head, but kept that thought to himself.
It took a moment, but eventually Nick shook his head as if to clear it and then brought a hand to his forehead with a sort of embarrassed realization.
“Wow, I must be more out of it than I thought. I didn’t even think of that. My roof pretty much caved in too. It could take weeks to fix.”
Clearly the gravity of what had happened to him was slowly starting to settle in for Nick, and Greg was eager to help any way possible.
“Yeah. Look, I’m off in like ten minutes. I’ve got one last sample to finish up but how about I meet you in the locker room in a few and then we’ll go to my place and you can get some sleep,” Greg offered, and cringed about how it had not come out the way he had intended.
Nick accepted though. More than appreciating the gesture and actually curious to see Greg’s place.
“That’ll be great. Thanks.”
The first night had been awkward. Nick had been so sore and exhausted that he was horrible company. He ate the quick meal Greg made for him to take his meds with and then went straight to bed in the spare bedroom, that he found surprisingly plain, not even bothering to change his clothes.
The next day Nick felt more like himself and really took in the townhouse and its nuances. He had been surprised by the size until he remembered that Greg made more money than him so could afford a spacious little home. Everything was modern and slick, clean and ordered like Greg’s lab, but also like the lab there were added touches of Greg-ness all over the place. The walls were a clean white with a few family photos but also with a few music posters. None of the tacky, cheap college type – they were all laminated on huge wooden plaques and were more art than a shameless band plug. The normally laid out living room was accentuated by a bright red rug that was so out of the place it only looked like it belonged due to the circular glass coffee table that stood on it. The top and legs were all clear glass with barely visible lights built into every crevice to make it glow in a relaxing blue hue at night. There were a hundred other little Greg touches like that and Nick immediately loved the entire place because it fit Greg’s personality so perfectly. Also, during those days while he tried to get over the physical and mental anguish of being stalked and attacked, he took comfort in the fact that the apartment allowed him to be completely surrounded and immersed in Greg, without the labrat actually having to be there.
As he rolled tentatively out of bed and into the hall on that first morning, Nick found that Greg was up before him, slaving away in the kitchen in a manner he didn’t seem particularly skilled at. The coffee was done and needed to be taken off the burner, but Greg had no chance to do it as he tried to flip the eggs he was making in one pan while also trying to make sure the bacon in the other pan didn’t burn. Nick smiled as he limped slowly into the kitchen, knowing the unorganized effort was for his benefit, even if it looked like it would be a less than perfect meal. But he knew it was the thought that counted.
“You know, traditionally, what you do is cook the bacon first and wrap it in paper towel so it will stay warm while you get the rest of the food ready,” Nick instructed as he walked up behind Greg, who hadn’t noticed him with all his fussing.
“Hey, morning. Well, thanks for the advice but your timing sucks. I definitely could have used that information before I started,” Greg replied, sighing as he realized he hadn’t pushed the toast down into the toaster, so it was still just bread.
“If I’d known you were gonna go all out I would have. Really G, you didn’t have to do all this … or, try to do all this anyway,” Nick said seriously as the coffee finally got removed from the burner.
Greg shrugged, “It’s no problem. You’ve had a shitty enough couple of days, I’m not gonna add to it by making you eat Cap’n Crunch for breakfast.”
Nick laughed, “You eat Cap’n Crunch?”
Greg blushed a little and turned back to the bacon.
“It was on sale.”
“Sure,” Nick said, as he sat at the kitchen island and poured himself a cup of coffee.
Greg finally got everything sorted out and split up the bacon and eggs onto two plates, then sat on the other side of the island.
“There you go, eggs-a-la-Greg. The uh, toast will be another minute. So, how’d you sleep?”
“Thanks. Not too bad actually. I thought, after everything, that I’d be up all night, but I conked out and didn’t wake up until I smelt what was clearly a masterfully made breakfast,” Nick joked, not mentioning how it had been an amazingly sound, restful sleep because he knew that Greg was nearby and took great comfort in that. Having the labrat around had always had an intoxicating effect on Nick since the first day they met. He had to smile when Greg was around, there was no other possible reaction and he was glad he had chosen to stay here instead of all the other friends’ houses he could have crashed at. He knew that no other place would be as comforting.
Across from him, Greg laughed at the barb on his cooking, “It’s the effort that counts okay.”
“It just amazes me that you can splice and replicate DNA but eggs and bacon seem to baffle you,” Nick continued good-heartedly.
“Yes, but I have a degree in DNA. I don’t have a degree in bacon,” Greg replied, accentuating his point with his fork.
Nick laughed but then they were mostly silent as they listened to the news on Greg’s kitchen radio. When they were both done Greg reached to take Nick’s plate, who immediately protested.
“I can get it, G.”
“No, I got it,” Greg argued. While they fought over who would take the plate their hands brushed briefly and the argument quickly ended as Nick relinquished and pulled away. They both blushed and neither made eye contact as Greg quickly shuffled over to the sink.
Nick sighed. Maybe it had been a mistake to agree to stay here, despite how much he wanted to be there. He knew he enjoyed spending time with Greg far too much, could sit and listen to him talk for hours and he knew that here in close quarters he may do something stupid. He could accidentally run his fingers through Greg’s hair, something he had wanted to do forever – he was desperate to know about the texture and how it did the crazy things it did. Or if they were on the couch talking, and they were close, Nick knew he would have to kiss those lips sooner or later. They taunted him with the way they easily formed complex scientific formulas or could ramble for minutes on end without missing a word or a syllable. He just wanted to run his thumb across the lower one and see if that would interrupt Greg’s tirade. And he imagined it wouldn’t. Greg would just keep going as Nick fondled him, kissing and touching him everywhere that he could reach.
Now Nick knew he was really in trouble because he could feel himself swelling down below along with these thoughts and he was only wearing sweat pants, which would hardly hide his growing erection. Thankfully Greg was still at the sink, rinsing off their plates and Nick took the chance to make a getaway into his temporary room. Once inside he sighed and leaned against the door, trying to convince himself not to lose Greg as a friend by telling him how he felt.
After all, there was no better way to lose a friend than by telling him you were more attracted to him than anyone else you had ever met in your life.
He could hear Greg shuffling around, still cleaning up their breakfast in the kitchen. Nick felt like a horrible guest by not going out there and helping but he knew he needed to create a little distance for now. Being surrounded by so much Greg-ness was putting him into overload. He could see Greg everywhere, could smell him in every crevice of the house and saw his personality in every piece of furniture and decoration. And of course, there was Greg himself. So close and so eager to help him through this traumatic time – and so painfully unaware of the strain his mere presence was putting on Nick. His room at least was a sanctuary. He didn’t know who normally stayed in it, but for some reason there was no trace of Greg inside. The walls were bare, the furniture was plain, even the bedspread was a dull shade of blue. And that was something Greg never was, dull.
It took a few minutes, but Nick eventually felt like he had composed himself and moved back into the hall, then headed to the living room and slowly lowered himself onto the couch and looked for the remote.
Greg was just finishing up the dishes and came into the living room still drying his hands.
“The playstation’s in that cupboard if you want a game,” he offered as he stood at the arm of the couch.
“Thanks, but I’d be playing with a pretty severe handicap,” Nick huffed, indicating his sprained wrist.
But Greg wasn’t deterred, “Yeah, it’s probably for the best anyway. I’m not known for taking prisoners.”
Nick laughed, “Well, you just wait until I’m better then, I’ll whoop you, and not just at playstation.”
Then the flirtatious smile Greg often wore at work made an appearance, “That a promise?”
Nick was taken a little aback and was contemplating an answer but was saved when Greg continued quickly.
“I’m gonna take a shower. You need the bathroom?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Nick waved him off and Greg disappeared down the hall.
A moment later his head returned, peering around the corner, “And the remote is usually down the left side cushion.”
Nick nodded, apparently Greg could read minds, and found the remote exactly where he had said.
“Gotcha,” he said to himself, immediately clicking to the discovery channel. However, when he heard the water start running in the shower he quickly became far more interested in Greg’s living room than anything the yellow-tailed chickadee might be up to.
Pushing himself off the couch slowly, he first studied the photographs displayed along the wall, smiling as he got a little insight into Greg’s life outside of the lab. There was Greg and what looked like some college friends around a huge birthday cake that Greg was scooping up with his hands, apparently aiming for the guy next to him. The next big thing was a diploma from Stanford that Nick admired for a moment, knowing it was a huge accomplishment.
The next picture showed Greg in a graduation outfit next to a well built graying, older man who smiled with pride as he crushed the much smaller Greg in a massive hug.
Nick smiled as well.
“Could this be the famous Grandpa Olaf?” he wondered as he carefully removed the picture from the frame to read the back.
Grandpa and I. Grad ’96.
He put the picture back carefully and then noticed the very last picture, purposely blown up to be slightly bigger than the rest.
He remembered when it had been taken, just a few months ago at the company picnic. Warrick and the others were in the background, but the main focus of the picture showed him and Greg, arms on each other’s shoulders in victory after beating a couple of patrol cops in a game of volleyball. It had been a proud moment, especially since the cops had been gloating about being able to beat the science geeks no problem, and it may have been Nick’s imagination, but he thought it was the one Greg looked the happiest in.
Putting the picture back he moved on to the bookshelf, finding all the basics. A few fiction novels, mostly crime stories, some forensics and chemistry textbooks and journals and the entire bottom shelf was devoted entirely to magazines. Nick took a moment to flip through them. There were a lot of Rolling Stone and music related stuff, a few Sand and Surfs and tucked away at the bottom was something Nick figured had to be a gift from someone that didn’t know Greg very well.
Rare Coins of the Early 1900’s
He pulled it out and opened it to find the pages were worn and some were even dog-eared as though it was used quite frequently. Nick shrugged and put it back – Greg really was a mystery in himself.
The final stack of magazines took Nick by surprise, it was all Car and Driver issues with a few other automotive titles mixed in. Nick had never known Greg to be a car buff, had noticed that his car knowledge seemed to be quite limited actually, so he was surprised by the magazines. He remembered telling Greg a few months ago that he should read Car and Driver instead of Sand and Surf so he would know the difference in the types of transmission fluid cars need. Looking through the stack, it seemed Greg had immediately taken his advice because there wasn’t a single issue dating back more than three months, the same time Nick had suggested it.
Nick smiled, enjoying the thought that he had impacted Greg’s life enough to get him to change his reading habits. He took the latest issue off the stack and moved back to the couch, pretty sure he hadn’t read it yet.
It was quiet and he was only a few pages in when his cracked ribs protested the position he was sitting in. He shifted, but then he wondered, could someone be watching him now? And suddenly he felt like he someone was. There was nothing wrong really, but there hadn’t been anything wrong during those days Crane had been watching him either, so was silence the first sign?
He stood up, unaware that he was being paranoid. Crossing the room, he closed the curtains and made sure the windows were locked and went into the kitchen to make sure that door was locked too. Walking slowly back to the couch, he still couldn’t relax and instead gazed up, looking at the ceiling for any sign of peepholes or spy equipment.
A door opened behind him. He started to reach for his gun, but it wasn’t there. Then he shook his head.
“Snap out of it man,” he thought as he tried to tell himself it was all in his head. It was just Greg coming out of the bathroom. There was no one watching him, no one waiting to strike out – there was just Greg. And that was all he wanted.
“Don’t go there either!” he told himself and tried doubly hard to focus on reading the magazine. But he had to turn around when he heard footsteps behind and then the magazine dropped to the floor, completely forgotten.
Greg was standing in the doorway, hair dripping wet and plastered to his head, wearing only a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.
Nick swallowed and forced himself to look Greg in the eye instead of staring at the surprisingly great body Greg hid under that labcoat everyday at work. That didn’t help either though. Nick figured Greg must like his showers hot because his face was red and flushed from heat. He couldn’t help but watch a water droplet as it worked its way down Greg’s forehead, across his cheek and then down into the smooth crook of his neck. Nick was suddenly grateful his ribs were cracked, because if not for the pain when moving he was sure he would have tackled Greg right there and licked away every last beautiful droplet of water from his body.
“I’m done in the bathroom, if you need it,” Greg told him.
Nick didn’t respond right away. He nodded first, then a second later thought speaking might be good too so said, “kay. Thanks.”
“Sure,” Greg answered, lingered for one more second in the doorway, and then retreated to his own room. He was breathing harder than he should have been and unlike Nick he knew perfectly well that the flush of his cheeks was not from his shower, since he had just had a very cold shower. Greg sighed. Living this close to Nick, having him literally around the corner, or even in the room, would definitely require more than a fair share of cold showers in the coming days.
He dried off quickly, got dressed and then spent a little more time than usual on his hair, wanting it to look especially good if he was going to be around Nick all day. When he was sure he looked spectacular he took a deep breath and went into the living room to find that, yes, his dreams had been answered and Nick Stokes was sitting on his couch, even if it wasn’t under the best of circumstances.
Nick was thankful that Greg was fully dressed when he came back in. Even though the brief glimpse he had had of Greg’s body would fuel his fantasy fodder for weeks, he also knew he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions if Greg came back and was still showing some skin. Looking at the clock though, his brow furrowed.
“Cuttin’ it kind of close aren’t you G?” Nick asked.
Greg plopped next to him on the couch and tried to come off as casual, even though they were both very much aware of how close they were sitting to each other, “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you usually start work at ten?”
Greg smiled, “Not on my day off I don’t.”
“Oh, I thought you were on today,” Nick explained and tried not to smile. Not only did this mean that Nick wouldn’t be alone all day, which he was grateful for after the night he had, but it also meant he would be spending the day with Greg, which was something new and exciting.
Greg did smile a little though, glad he had called Grissom the night before. He had wanted the rest of the team to know where Nick was and that he was all right and then had gone so far as to ask for the day off work so Nick wouldn’t be alone. Grissom had agreed whole-heartedly, and now here he was, next to Nick on the couch.
Greg’s smile widened as he thought of something to say to break the quick tension made by his seating choice, “So, I don’t know what you usually use, but if you feel like creating or building any toys while you’re here, let me know. I’m sure I can find you something to work with.”
“Oh, lay off, man,” Nick replied, laughing to himself as he struck Greg with a pillow for mentioning that horrible line in the Crimestopper article.
Easily deflecting the pillow, Greg laughed as well, “Seriously, you make toys? What was with that?”
“No I don’t make toys. God, I can’t believe they wrote that,” Nick mumbled.
“So you didn’t say it?”
“I said I used to make toys when I was little. I was talking to the victim’s son, trying to cheer him up, it was totally out of context,” Nick explained, knowing he was never going to live that article down.
“It’s still kind of funny,” Greg said, then added conversationally, “What did you used to make?”
“It’s stupid,” Nick waved him off, face reddening.
“Come on,” Greg egged him on. “I told you about my Cap’N Crunch.”
Nick smiled, unable to deny Greg anything, “I don’t remember many. I know once I put airplane wings on a fire truck so it could fly to the fire and not get stuck in traffic.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Greg shrugged, thinking it was pretty impressive for a child.
“What’d you do when you were little?” Nick asked, turning the conversation around as he was curious about Greg’s childhood.
Instead of smiling with fond memories, Greg scoffed at the question, “Played with my chemistry set and tried not to get beat up.”
“Seriously?” Nick’s brow furrowed at the serious direction this conversation looked like it would be taking.
Greg shrugged, having come to terms with his childhood, “You know how it is. The popular kids pick on the … less than popular kids.”
“That’s weird. I totally had you pegged as class clown.”
Greg actually laughed at this, “Oh no, that’s where the college make-over comes in. You move to a new city, redefine yourself, how you look and what you like, and then you figure out what kind of person you want to be. Trust me, my high school self was not the person I wanted to be.”
“I guess some people do that,” Nick mused, still unable to picture Greg as unpopular. He was so damn likeable and energetic, and drop dead gorgeous.
Greg’s voice knocked him out of those thoughts, “You didn’t do that?”
Nick shook his head, “Nah. I was the same guy in high school as college. Dependable, there for people. I guess I was okay popular.”
“You were popular,” Greg stated with infinite certainty.
“I was a dependable guy so people liked me. That doesn’t mean I was popular,” Nick argued. “Besides, I had a chemistry set too.”
“If you actually thought you fit in and were liked in high school, then you were popular, trust me. If you’re not popular, you never feel that way,” Greg explained. “And I bet you didn’t go around gloating about that chemistry set either.”
“Why weren’t you popular?” Nick asked, genuinely curious.
“I was just the trademark person to pick on, I guess. Scrawny guy, braces, captain of the chess team. Thank god I didn’t wear glasses on top of that,” Greg said seriously, then flashed a cheeky smile. “Plus, everyone was jealous of my good looks and fashion sense. It was all just resentment.”
“Yeah, that must have been it. Captain of the chess team?” Nick asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” Greg nodded enthusiastically, not the least bit ashamed. “I got a trophy in my bedroom if you want to see it.”
Did Nick want to see Greg’s trophy? That was not a tough question. But Greg’s bedroom, that was off limits.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“All right. You want a game, I’ll show you myself.”
Nick never could back down from a challenge, “Set the board up Einstein. I’ll show you what us ‘popular’ people did with our brains.”
An hour later Nick succumbed to defeat for the third time. For his part, Greg was humble enough not to gloat, but was smiling in a very satisfied fashion.
“So, what did I win?” Greg asked playfully.
“My undying respect for your chess skills,” Nick replied, still looking at Greg’s last checkmate from all angles. “Man, a twelve move defeat, that’s just sad.”
Greg shrugged apologetically, “I could have had you in eight but I was being generous. Really Nick, you never lead with your center pawns.”
“Well, I’ll know that for next time then,” Nick replied and yawned while stretching very tentatively.
“You all right?” Greg asked, concerned even though chess wasn’t exactly strenuous.
“Yeah, just these pain meds make me drowsy,” Nick explained, then imaginatively added, “They make it hard to focus too. I want a rematch once I’m off them.”
“Anytime, anyplace,” Greg promised. “Why don’t you lay on the couch and watch a movie, you can drift off if you feel like it. I got some lab stuff I need to work on so you can pop in anything you like.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan,” Nick agreed and moved himself back into the living room. He was almost nervous to see what Greg had for movies, but was pleasantly surprised to find it a pretty normal collection, with just a few Marilyn Manson concerts and stuff on DVD to make it a little more exciting.
“Haven’t seen this in awhile,” Nick mumbled, popping in The Shawshank Redemption and settling himself on the couch. He could hear Greg in the dining room behind him, cleaning up their chess game and setting up his laptop instead. The knowledge that someone was there with him, someone he knew and trusted, allowed him to relax and enjoy the movie, but an annoying voice at the back of his head asked him what he was going to do when Greg had to leave? Or Nick had to go back home, and he would be alone, with his thoughts and his injuries and his paranoia, and no one to distract him. No one to comfort him or protect him, just alone and vulnerable …
For now he told the voice to shut up and let his eyes drift shut in sleep because Greg was there, and Greg was more than enough.
TBC
The next chapter is less draggy, I promise and has the real slashy goodness. I’m so nervous about my first slash, tell me what you think???
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