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nickngregThis was originally written for a Secret Santa exchange, but I lost confidence in it for that because everyone seems to want smut in those things…so I’m throwing it on your mercy, because even though it has no naughtiness in it I quite like it anyway.. And I’m sorry it’s been so long since you’ve seen me out here, but…well, I wouldn’t know where to start explaining that.
Title – Seasons
Author –![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
black_dahlia63
Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s.
Rating – PG13. Sorry.
Warnings – major angst, but hey – it’s me – what else would you expect?
Thanks – to the wonderfuldagdrommer for linguistic assistance.
Disclaimer – Not mine, don’t sue, I have nothing you’d want.
“Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick! Come outside and play basketball with us!”
“In a minute or two, Rob,” Nick replied in a hushed tone. “I need to wait till your mom comes back to take your sister.”
“Stupid Grace, she spoils everything,” was the five year old’s disgruntled reply. “We gotta be quiet at home so we don’t wake her up, I gotta share a room with Paul now, you can’t play with us...”
“I said I would, and I will,” Nick told his nephew. “And you know what? Paul used to say the same thing about you when you were a baby.”
“No he didn’t!”
“Yeah, he did, kiddo,” Nick said. “He used to ask if I’d take you back to Vegas with me because he didn’t need a new brother, he tried to sell you to his kindergarten teacher for a dollar -” and he bit his lip to suppress a grin when Rob giggled. “And you guys get on pretty well now, don’t you?” he asked, and his question was met with an enthusiastic nod. “See? You’ll get on with Grace too, just give it time, dude - now you go outside with your cousins, and I’ll be out as soon as I can, okay?” Sneaker-clad feet thundered out of the living room and down the hall, and Nick settled back in the armchair; he looked across the room at the long row of stockings hanging on hooks over his parents’ fireplace, and then he glanced down at the newest member of the Stokes clan. His three-week old niece lay in the crook of his left arm, her fists clenched and her lips pursed gently in sleep; enthralled by the peaceful expression on the tiny face, so far removed from what he had to deal with day in and day out at work, he stared at Grace and was so absorbed in watching her that he was unaware of someone else coming into the room.
“Looks like you’ve got the touch, little brother.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” his sister replied, bending forward to scoop up her daughter before settling in the chair next to Nick’s. “You’re missing out on a lot, Nicky, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said wryly as old ground was revisited. “And you know what? At my age...”
“Never mind your age,” was the immediate response. “I didn’t plan on having another baby at forty one, but I wouldn’t want things any other way,” and her lips curved in a soft smile as she looked down at her daughter. “Thirty five isn’t anywhere near too old - and the thing with dad...”
“It’s not dad,” he told her. “Not entirely, anyway - it’s just -” and he stared at his hands, sighing quietly before he lifted his head again and forced another smile. “It’s Christmas Eve, can we just drop this, Meg?”
“Have you met somebody?” his sister asked, her eyes lighting up and her voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet since you got here?”
“I’ve been quiet because work’s been a bitch,” he replied, knowing she wouldn’t believe it because he’d never been able to hide anything from her; he watched her get up carefully, her daughter cradled protectively in one arm, and when she called out towards the kitchen he cringed inwardly.
“Momma! Nicky and I need to go to Wal Mart before it shuts, we won’t be long -”
**************
“He works in the lab,” he told Meg as they sat in her car in the mall parking lot, each of them holding a paper cup of coffee; a bag containing six rolls of wrapping paper, bought to maintain the pretext of needing to be out this late on Christmas Eve, lay on the back seat of the car next to the baby seat where his niece was sleeping soundly. “His folks are Norwegian, but he was born in California, and...”
“You haven’t told him you’re interested in him, have you?”
“Are you going to tell this or am I?” Nick asked her. “We’re not in high school any more, it isn’t as easy as you think.”
“Tell me how it is, then.”
“He’s got somebody,” was the answer. “Well, he has at the moment, it’s never the same person for more than a couple of months at a time, and – well, that isn’t what I want.”
“Does he even know you’re gay?”
“Nobody does who matters, except you,” he told her, staring out of the passenger side window at the ebb and flow of people and cars around them. “I’ve been – well, I went to some bars, you know? When I first moved out to Vegas?” and he let a soft sigh escape his lips. “I couldn’t do it, Meg, it was – well, it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It isn’t anything I can have, not when I’ve spent half my life pretending I’m something I’m not,” and he drank the rest of his coffee to buy himself time before he had to continue. “I want what you’ve got, I want what mom and dad have,” he went on eventually. “I want someone I don’t have to hide anything from, I want someone who understands, but I - I’ve just left it too late for that -” He stared out of the window again, a lump in his throat, and it was a long time before he resumed speaking. “I can’t even be honest with myself, how can I tell anyone else how I feel? Look, can we go back now, Meg? Please?” and something in his voice made his sister reach for his hand; she squeezed it briefly without saying a word, and then she set her cup in the holder before turning the key in the ignition.
****************
Everyone else was finally asleep in the house behind him - even the children, whose excitement had only been quelled when their grandfather told them that he guessed Santa wouldn’t be stopping at the ranch if they didn’t hush this minute. Nick sat on the front porch, his hands clasped round his knees as he looked up at a sky that was hardly ever this clear in Vegas; there was a handful of stars scattered across the pitch black, and as he studied them a streak of light flashed across his field of vision. He thought of the way he used to get excited when he was a kid and he saw a shooting star, of how his mother would ruffle his hair and tell him to make a wish – and then he shook his head, a distant expression in his dark eyes, because he had long since stopped believing in getting anything just because he wanted it to happen. Getting to his feet, he walked back into the house he’d grown up in and locked the door behind him; he climbed the stairs, glancing at the Christmas tree in the living room on the way, and when he reached the room that he was sharing with three of his nephews it was a long time before he slept.
**************
“Sover du aldri?” He’d heard these words from his mother more times than he could count when he’d been a child. There had always been a resigned smile and a chuckle every time she’d found him awake at two or three in the morning watching TV or reading comic books, and asked him if he ever slept - and he’d always managed to charm her into leaving him where he was by smiling and pleading for just a few more minutes…
“What are you doing?” a voice asked, and he looked round from his cross-legged position in front of the TV. “It’s four a.m – are you opening presents?”
“Just this one,” he said, grinning sheepishly as he motioned his head towards the screen. “It’s the new Splinter Cell game, one of the guys at work gave it to me.”
“Come back to bed,” the man in the doorway said. “I can think of better things to do with your hands at four in the morning than that.”
“Give me a few minutes…”
“Don’t make me come over there and get you, Sanders,” was the response, followed by a chuckle. “I have to leave for work in five hours, let’s not waste it,” and Greg turned off the game console and scrambled to his feet.
**********
“Greg.”
“Mm.”
“I need to go, babe.”
“I still don’t believe they’re making you work Christmas Day,” he mumbled into the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,” was the answer. “When are you off to your folks’ place?”
“My flight’s at six tonight.”
“You gonna be awake in time?”
“You didn’t wear me out that much,” he said with a grin, rolling onto his back and stretching lazily. “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?” A mouthwash-scented kiss was planted on his lips, done before he could respond to it, and then he lay back with his hands behind his head as his lover headed out of the room. Moments later, the front door of the apartment slammed shut, and he sat up with a groan while he scrubbed sleep out of his eyes; he still hadn’t packed for the three days he’d managed to get off work to go and visit his parents, and he was damned if he could remember where he’d put the presents he’d brought them.
**********
“Where are you flying to?”
“Burbank,” he said, his eyes fixed on the Christmas tree air freshener dangling from the cab’s rear view mirror. “Visiting my family.”
“Been a long time since you saw them?”
“Too long,” he said with a smile, thinking of how most of them would probably be waiting at the airport when he got off the plane and how he’d be fussed over the entire time he was there – but he wouldn’t have it any other way, because he missed his folks more than he ever let on. “How long till -?” but he never finished the sentence, because the cab driver was shouting something like Jesus he’s in the wrong lane; in the next instant there was a squeal of brakes, and the black metal filling the passenger side window was the last thing he saw.
***********
“Thank you, Uncle Nick!” Rob shouted at the top of his voice, dropping the new PlayStation game and throwing his arms round Nick. “This is awesome, how did you know I wanted it?”
“A little bird told me.”
“You spoil them, Nicky,” Meg murmured out of the corner of her mouth amid the clamour of seven adults and eight children opening gifts. “You’ll still be paying this off come Easter -” and the sound of the phone ringing in the hallway went virtually unnoticed until Nick’s father called out, “Pancho, there’s a call for you!”
“Coming,” Nick replied, scrambling to his feet; it was a long-standing rule that visitors to Judge and Mrs. Stokes at Christmas turned off their cell phones when they arrived, giving out the ranch number to anyone who might need to reach them. “Thanks, Cisco – hello? Catherine? Hey, merry Christmas!” and moments later the smile that was on his face disappeared.
**************
“No, that’s fine, I’ll take it,” he said into the phone, reaching for his wallet, and he read out his credit card number. “Hold on one second, I need to get a pen to write that down,” but before he could do more than glance around frantically a stub of pencil was placed in his hand. “Yes, ma’am, go ahead,” and he scribbled something on the back of an ATM receipt that had been in the pocket of his jeans. “Thank you very much – yes, you have a wonderful Christmas too.” He ended the call and let the receiver fall back into the cradle, pinching the bridge of his nose hard for a second or two before looking round to see his mother standing next to him. “I can’t get a flight out till tomorrow afternoon,” he said, cramming his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking. “I’m sorry about this, -”
“These things happen,” was the answer as his mother wiped her hands on her apron. “Is this someone who means something to you, Nick?”
“What? No,” he said, feeling something tightening in his chest as he spoke. “Not the way you’re thinking -”
“I’m not thinking anything,” was the response, accompanied by a gentle smile. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart, that’s all I want for any of you – now, you come in the kitchen and help me with the vegetables, lunch is almost ready,” and she led the way towards the kitchen. Nick followed in her wake, grateful for being drawn away from the crowded living room – but he knew that no matter what he did, the following day was not going to come soon enough, and as he thought of what he’d been told over the phone he was praying he’d get back to Vegas in time.
To be continued
Title – Seasons
Author –
black_dahlia63Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s.
Rating – PG13. Sorry.
Warnings – major angst, but hey – it’s me – what else would you expect?
Thanks – to the wonderful
dagdrommer for linguistic assistance.Disclaimer – Not mine, don’t sue, I have nothing you’d want.
“Uncle Nick! Uncle Nick! Come outside and play basketball with us!”
“In a minute or two, Rob,” Nick replied in a hushed tone. “I need to wait till your mom comes back to take your sister.”
“Stupid Grace, she spoils everything,” was the five year old’s disgruntled reply. “We gotta be quiet at home so we don’t wake her up, I gotta share a room with Paul now, you can’t play with us...”
“I said I would, and I will,” Nick told his nephew. “And you know what? Paul used to say the same thing about you when you were a baby.”
“No he didn’t!”
“Yeah, he did, kiddo,” Nick said. “He used to ask if I’d take you back to Vegas with me because he didn’t need a new brother, he tried to sell you to his kindergarten teacher for a dollar -” and he bit his lip to suppress a grin when Rob giggled. “And you guys get on pretty well now, don’t you?” he asked, and his question was met with an enthusiastic nod. “See? You’ll get on with Grace too, just give it time, dude - now you go outside with your cousins, and I’ll be out as soon as I can, okay?” Sneaker-clad feet thundered out of the living room and down the hall, and Nick settled back in the armchair; he looked across the room at the long row of stockings hanging on hooks over his parents’ fireplace, and then he glanced down at the newest member of the Stokes clan. His three-week old niece lay in the crook of his left arm, her fists clenched and her lips pursed gently in sleep; enthralled by the peaceful expression on the tiny face, so far removed from what he had to deal with day in and day out at work, he stared at Grace and was so absorbed in watching her that he was unaware of someone else coming into the room.
“Looks like you’ve got the touch, little brother.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” his sister replied, bending forward to scoop up her daughter before settling in the chair next to Nick’s. “You’re missing out on a lot, Nicky, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said wryly as old ground was revisited. “And you know what? At my age...”
“Never mind your age,” was the immediate response. “I didn’t plan on having another baby at forty one, but I wouldn’t want things any other way,” and her lips curved in a soft smile as she looked down at her daughter. “Thirty five isn’t anywhere near too old - and the thing with dad...”
“It’s not dad,” he told her. “Not entirely, anyway - it’s just -” and he stared at his hands, sighing quietly before he lifted his head again and forced another smile. “It’s Christmas Eve, can we just drop this, Meg?”
“Have you met somebody?” his sister asked, her eyes lighting up and her voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet since you got here?”
“I’ve been quiet because work’s been a bitch,” he replied, knowing she wouldn’t believe it because he’d never been able to hide anything from her; he watched her get up carefully, her daughter cradled protectively in one arm, and when she called out towards the kitchen he cringed inwardly.
“Momma! Nicky and I need to go to Wal Mart before it shuts, we won’t be long -”
**************
“He works in the lab,” he told Meg as they sat in her car in the mall parking lot, each of them holding a paper cup of coffee; a bag containing six rolls of wrapping paper, bought to maintain the pretext of needing to be out this late on Christmas Eve, lay on the back seat of the car next to the baby seat where his niece was sleeping soundly. “His folks are Norwegian, but he was born in California, and...”
“You haven’t told him you’re interested in him, have you?”
“Are you going to tell this or am I?” Nick asked her. “We’re not in high school any more, it isn’t as easy as you think.”
“Tell me how it is, then.”
“He’s got somebody,” was the answer. “Well, he has at the moment, it’s never the same person for more than a couple of months at a time, and – well, that isn’t what I want.”
“Does he even know you’re gay?”
“Nobody does who matters, except you,” he told her, staring out of the passenger side window at the ebb and flow of people and cars around them. “I’ve been – well, I went to some bars, you know? When I first moved out to Vegas?” and he let a soft sigh escape his lips. “I couldn’t do it, Meg, it was – well, it wasn’t what I wanted.”
“What do you want?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It isn’t anything I can have, not when I’ve spent half my life pretending I’m something I’m not,” and he drank the rest of his coffee to buy himself time before he had to continue. “I want what you’ve got, I want what mom and dad have,” he went on eventually. “I want someone I don’t have to hide anything from, I want someone who understands, but I - I’ve just left it too late for that -” He stared out of the window again, a lump in his throat, and it was a long time before he resumed speaking. “I can’t even be honest with myself, how can I tell anyone else how I feel? Look, can we go back now, Meg? Please?” and something in his voice made his sister reach for his hand; she squeezed it briefly without saying a word, and then she set her cup in the holder before turning the key in the ignition.
****************
Everyone else was finally asleep in the house behind him - even the children, whose excitement had only been quelled when their grandfather told them that he guessed Santa wouldn’t be stopping at the ranch if they didn’t hush this minute. Nick sat on the front porch, his hands clasped round his knees as he looked up at a sky that was hardly ever this clear in Vegas; there was a handful of stars scattered across the pitch black, and as he studied them a streak of light flashed across his field of vision. He thought of the way he used to get excited when he was a kid and he saw a shooting star, of how his mother would ruffle his hair and tell him to make a wish – and then he shook his head, a distant expression in his dark eyes, because he had long since stopped believing in getting anything just because he wanted it to happen. Getting to his feet, he walked back into the house he’d grown up in and locked the door behind him; he climbed the stairs, glancing at the Christmas tree in the living room on the way, and when he reached the room that he was sharing with three of his nephews it was a long time before he slept.
**************
“Sover du aldri?” He’d heard these words from his mother more times than he could count when he’d been a child. There had always been a resigned smile and a chuckle every time she’d found him awake at two or three in the morning watching TV or reading comic books, and asked him if he ever slept - and he’d always managed to charm her into leaving him where he was by smiling and pleading for just a few more minutes…
“What are you doing?” a voice asked, and he looked round from his cross-legged position in front of the TV. “It’s four a.m – are you opening presents?”
“Just this one,” he said, grinning sheepishly as he motioned his head towards the screen. “It’s the new Splinter Cell game, one of the guys at work gave it to me.”
“Come back to bed,” the man in the doorway said. “I can think of better things to do with your hands at four in the morning than that.”
“Give me a few minutes…”
“Don’t make me come over there and get you, Sanders,” was the response, followed by a chuckle. “I have to leave for work in five hours, let’s not waste it,” and Greg turned off the game console and scrambled to his feet.
**********
“Greg.”
“Mm.”
“I need to go, babe.”
“I still don’t believe they’re making you work Christmas Day,” he mumbled into the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,” was the answer. “When are you off to your folks’ place?”
“My flight’s at six tonight.”
“You gonna be awake in time?”
“You didn’t wear me out that much,” he said with a grin, rolling onto his back and stretching lazily. “I’ll call you when I get back, okay?” A mouthwash-scented kiss was planted on his lips, done before he could respond to it, and then he lay back with his hands behind his head as his lover headed out of the room. Moments later, the front door of the apartment slammed shut, and he sat up with a groan while he scrubbed sleep out of his eyes; he still hadn’t packed for the three days he’d managed to get off work to go and visit his parents, and he was damned if he could remember where he’d put the presents he’d brought them.
**********
“Where are you flying to?”
“Burbank,” he said, his eyes fixed on the Christmas tree air freshener dangling from the cab’s rear view mirror. “Visiting my family.”
“Been a long time since you saw them?”
“Too long,” he said with a smile, thinking of how most of them would probably be waiting at the airport when he got off the plane and how he’d be fussed over the entire time he was there – but he wouldn’t have it any other way, because he missed his folks more than he ever let on. “How long till -?” but he never finished the sentence, because the cab driver was shouting something like Jesus he’s in the wrong lane; in the next instant there was a squeal of brakes, and the black metal filling the passenger side window was the last thing he saw.
***********
“Thank you, Uncle Nick!” Rob shouted at the top of his voice, dropping the new PlayStation game and throwing his arms round Nick. “This is awesome, how did you know I wanted it?”
“A little bird told me.”
“You spoil them, Nicky,” Meg murmured out of the corner of her mouth amid the clamour of seven adults and eight children opening gifts. “You’ll still be paying this off come Easter -” and the sound of the phone ringing in the hallway went virtually unnoticed until Nick’s father called out, “Pancho, there’s a call for you!”
“Coming,” Nick replied, scrambling to his feet; it was a long-standing rule that visitors to Judge and Mrs. Stokes at Christmas turned off their cell phones when they arrived, giving out the ranch number to anyone who might need to reach them. “Thanks, Cisco – hello? Catherine? Hey, merry Christmas!” and moments later the smile that was on his face disappeared.
**************
“No, that’s fine, I’ll take it,” he said into the phone, reaching for his wallet, and he read out his credit card number. “Hold on one second, I need to get a pen to write that down,” but before he could do more than glance around frantically a stub of pencil was placed in his hand. “Yes, ma’am, go ahead,” and he scribbled something on the back of an ATM receipt that had been in the pocket of his jeans. “Thank you very much – yes, you have a wonderful Christmas too.” He ended the call and let the receiver fall back into the cradle, pinching the bridge of his nose hard for a second or two before looking round to see his mother standing next to him. “I can’t get a flight out till tomorrow afternoon,” he said, cramming his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking. “I’m sorry about this, -”
“These things happen,” was the answer as his mother wiped her hands on her apron. “Is this someone who means something to you, Nick?”
“What? No,” he said, feeling something tightening in his chest as he spoke. “Not the way you’re thinking -”
“I’m not thinking anything,” was the response, accompanied by a gentle smile. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart, that’s all I want for any of you – now, you come in the kitchen and help me with the vegetables, lunch is almost ready,” and she led the way towards the kitchen. Nick followed in her wake, grateful for being drawn away from the crowded living room – but he knew that no matter what he did, the following day was not going to come soon enough, and as he thought of what he’d been told over the phone he was praying he’d get back to Vegas in time.
To be continued
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-10 10:47 pm (UTC)I'm looking forward for the next part!
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Date: 2006-12-10 10:57 pm (UTC)PS:Love the icon...my dad is a retired priest and it would send him into conniptions!*snicker*
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Date: 2006-12-11 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-10 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-10 11:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-11 08:23 am (UTC)I prefer angst anyway.
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Date: 2006-12-11 08:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-11 08:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-11 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 05:12 pm (UTC)