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Oct. 20th, 2006 05:08 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngreg* I know it's been a long, long time since I've updated this story, but I've never forgotten about it and I've actually been working on this very short chapter for a long time.
Title: The Intricacies of Grief, 6/?
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Up to and including "Who Shot Sherlock?"
Disclaimer: Yeah, right.
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
“I’m so glad we live in Texas, Nicky. I could never live in California or one of those other blue states.”
Nick knew what was coming next. He had just sat uncomfortably through a 60 Minutes report on gay marriage, his sister tsking and huffing all the way through.
“I mean really. Whatever happened to the American way of life? The idea of two men marrying each other… well, it’s just wrong. Not to mention adopting children. That should never be allowed to happen. Those poor children.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked, trying not to get agitated. No one in his family knew about his sexual orientation, and he wasn’t ready for them to find out.
“You know what I mean, Nick. Why on earth would anyone hand over a child to a pervert?”
“Sandy, being gay doesn’t make you a child molester.” Despite his best effort, his jaw was clenched and his muscles tensed.
“Oh please, Nicholas.”
Nick clenched his eyes shut, trying to squeeze out the memory. She hadn’t known that he was gay when she said those things, but what did it matter? If she wasn’t saying them, she’d be thinking them.
He leaned against the brick wall in the hallway of the funeral home. The door to his right was the children’s room, where a good number of his nephews and nieces were being read storybooks about the grieving process. Sandy was in there too, trying to get her two-year-old son to settle down.
Nick looked back to where Greg stood, waiting patiently.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the room.
“Nick,” Sandy said as she saw him enter the room. She smiled, but there was no joy there.
“Hi Sandy.”
“I heard you’re staying at Jacqui’s house,” she said.
Nick nodded. After a long and very uncomfortable pause, he introduced Greg.
“Right,” Sandy said, shaking Greg’s hand. "I heard about you too.” Nick bristled at the ill-mannered comment, but at least she shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Greg said, his manners far superior to hers.
“Where’s Reilly?” Nick asked, glancing around the room. He had never met his nephew, and he’d been an infant in the last picture he’d seen of him.
Sandy looked at him for a long moment before calling her son’s name. Reilly, his mop of curls bouncing with every step, toddled over to his mother.
“Hi Big Guy,” Nick said, kneeling down. Reilly grinned at him and, unlike some of his shyer cousins, threw himself into Nick’s arms.
Nick grinned as he picked the boy up, experiencing his first moment of happiness since he learned of his father’s death. Reilly put his hand against Nick’s cheek, and Nick pretended to bite it, sending the toddler into a fit of giggles. Nick laughed along with him. Smiling, he looked over at Greg, who was smiling back. But when he turned to Sandy, all smiles vanished. She looked anxious, and she took the opportunity of having Nick’s attention to hold out her arms to take her son back.
“What,” asked Nick.
“Just give him to me, Nick.”
And then he understood. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he guessed. He knew her feelings on the matter, but he held out hope that she would feel differently about him. That knowing him like she did, she could never think of him as someone who would hurt her child, or any child. But she did.
Nick was angry. He was angry, and he was hurt. So he did the only thing he could do. He passed her the boy and walked away.
*~*
Greg couldn’t help but give Sandy a nasty look as he turned around and followed Nick out of the room. He didn’t say anything as Nick led the way out of the funeral home and to the rental car. Following Nick as he fled from his family was getting to be a habit, but Greg didn’t mind, it was what he was there for.
The ride back Jacqui’s house was quiet. Greg didn’t know what to say to Nick this time. He was shocked at Sandy’s behaviour. As a gay man, Greg had seen his share of narrow-mindedness and bigotry, but he couldn’t imagine someone as close as a sister acting the way she had. Greg didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but he liked to imagine they’d have been accepting of him if he had. His parents were very supportive. Sure, things were a little awkward when he first came out to them, but it was just a period of adjustment.
“This is your stop,” Nick said as he pulled into Jacqui’s driveway.
“You’re not coming in?” Greg asked, worried. He didn’t want Nick to drive away and do something stupid.
“No,” Nick said, looking straight ahead, his fists clenched around the steering wheel, his arms locked in position.
“Nick,” Greg said, “Nick, look at me.”
When he did, Greg almost couldn’t bear the look in Nick’s eyes. He looked so wounded and defeated, and Greg had never seen him look like that before. Nick was always such a strong presence, always so optimistic and reassuring. He always took care of everyone, but Greg knew he had a hard time letting anyone take care of him. Greg wanted to be there for him, to be the one to take care of him.
“Why don’t you come in,” Greg asked quietly. “Jacqui won’t be home for awhile. We can just hang out and watch TV. Or whatever. I could go off and check my email if you want to be alone. Just… come in.”
Nick looked back out the windshield, not answering Greg for a long time. Finally he nodded.
Greg was at a bit of a loss when the got inside the house. He didn’t want to push Nick, he knew it would do more harm than good. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and leaned against the wall of the hallway.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
Nick looked at him, his eyes dark. The next thing Greg knew, Nick was pushing him up against the wall, crushing his mouth with his. Greg was surprised, but he didn’t waste any time in kissing him back. Nick’s kisses were hungry and fierce, and his hands roughly moved against Greg’s body.
“Upstairs,” Nick growled, and Greg quickly followed him to the guest room.
Greg knew what this was. He knew Nick’s hunger for him was a manifestation of his grief, his anger, his frustration, and his inability to control his emotions. Greg knew this wasn’t about him. He was just a warm body to Nick, but Greg could accept that. If this was what Nick needed, Greg was willing to give it to him.
TBC in Part Seven
Title: The Intricacies of Grief, 6/?
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R for language
Spoilers: Up to and including "Who Shot Sherlock?"
Disclaimer: Yeah, right.
Previous Parts:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
“I’m so glad we live in Texas, Nicky. I could never live in California or one of those other blue states.”
Nick knew what was coming next. He had just sat uncomfortably through a 60 Minutes report on gay marriage, his sister tsking and huffing all the way through.
“I mean really. Whatever happened to the American way of life? The idea of two men marrying each other… well, it’s just wrong. Not to mention adopting children. That should never be allowed to happen. Those poor children.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked, trying not to get agitated. No one in his family knew about his sexual orientation, and he wasn’t ready for them to find out.
“You know what I mean, Nick. Why on earth would anyone hand over a child to a pervert?”
“Sandy, being gay doesn’t make you a child molester.” Despite his best effort, his jaw was clenched and his muscles tensed.
“Oh please, Nicholas.”
Nick clenched his eyes shut, trying to squeeze out the memory. She hadn’t known that he was gay when she said those things, but what did it matter? If she wasn’t saying them, she’d be thinking them.
He leaned against the brick wall in the hallway of the funeral home. The door to his right was the children’s room, where a good number of his nephews and nieces were being read storybooks about the grieving process. Sandy was in there too, trying to get her two-year-old son to settle down.
Nick looked back to where Greg stood, waiting patiently.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the room.
“Nick,” Sandy said as she saw him enter the room. She smiled, but there was no joy there.
“Hi Sandy.”
“I heard you’re staying at Jacqui’s house,” she said.
Nick nodded. After a long and very uncomfortable pause, he introduced Greg.
“Right,” Sandy said, shaking Greg’s hand. "I heard about you too.” Nick bristled at the ill-mannered comment, but at least she shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Greg said, his manners far superior to hers.
“Where’s Reilly?” Nick asked, glancing around the room. He had never met his nephew, and he’d been an infant in the last picture he’d seen of him.
Sandy looked at him for a long moment before calling her son’s name. Reilly, his mop of curls bouncing with every step, toddled over to his mother.
“Hi Big Guy,” Nick said, kneeling down. Reilly grinned at him and, unlike some of his shyer cousins, threw himself into Nick’s arms.
Nick grinned as he picked the boy up, experiencing his first moment of happiness since he learned of his father’s death. Reilly put his hand against Nick’s cheek, and Nick pretended to bite it, sending the toddler into a fit of giggles. Nick laughed along with him. Smiling, he looked over at Greg, who was smiling back. But when he turned to Sandy, all smiles vanished. She looked anxious, and she took the opportunity of having Nick’s attention to hold out her arms to take her son back.
“What,” asked Nick.
“Just give him to me, Nick.”
And then he understood. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he guessed. He knew her feelings on the matter, but he held out hope that she would feel differently about him. That knowing him like she did, she could never think of him as someone who would hurt her child, or any child. But she did.
Nick was angry. He was angry, and he was hurt. So he did the only thing he could do. He passed her the boy and walked away.
*~*
Greg couldn’t help but give Sandy a nasty look as he turned around and followed Nick out of the room. He didn’t say anything as Nick led the way out of the funeral home and to the rental car. Following Nick as he fled from his family was getting to be a habit, but Greg didn’t mind, it was what he was there for.
The ride back Jacqui’s house was quiet. Greg didn’t know what to say to Nick this time. He was shocked at Sandy’s behaviour. As a gay man, Greg had seen his share of narrow-mindedness and bigotry, but he couldn’t imagine someone as close as a sister acting the way she had. Greg didn’t have any brothers or sisters, but he liked to imagine they’d have been accepting of him if he had. His parents were very supportive. Sure, things were a little awkward when he first came out to them, but it was just a period of adjustment.
“This is your stop,” Nick said as he pulled into Jacqui’s driveway.
“You’re not coming in?” Greg asked, worried. He didn’t want Nick to drive away and do something stupid.
“No,” Nick said, looking straight ahead, his fists clenched around the steering wheel, his arms locked in position.
“Nick,” Greg said, “Nick, look at me.”
When he did, Greg almost couldn’t bear the look in Nick’s eyes. He looked so wounded and defeated, and Greg had never seen him look like that before. Nick was always such a strong presence, always so optimistic and reassuring. He always took care of everyone, but Greg knew he had a hard time letting anyone take care of him. Greg wanted to be there for him, to be the one to take care of him.
“Why don’t you come in,” Greg asked quietly. “Jacqui won’t be home for awhile. We can just hang out and watch TV. Or whatever. I could go off and check my email if you want to be alone. Just… come in.”
Nick looked back out the windshield, not answering Greg for a long time. Finally he nodded.
Greg was at a bit of a loss when the got inside the house. He didn’t want to push Nick, he knew it would do more harm than good. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, and leaned against the wall of the hallway.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
Nick looked at him, his eyes dark. The next thing Greg knew, Nick was pushing him up against the wall, crushing his mouth with his. Greg was surprised, but he didn’t waste any time in kissing him back. Nick’s kisses were hungry and fierce, and his hands roughly moved against Greg’s body.
“Upstairs,” Nick growled, and Greg quickly followed him to the guest room.
Greg knew what this was. He knew Nick’s hunger for him was a manifestation of his grief, his anger, his frustration, and his inability to control his emotions. Greg knew this wasn’t about him. He was just a warm body to Nick, but Greg could accept that. If this was what Nick needed, Greg was willing to give it to him.
TBC in Part Seven
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