PG Nick and Greg
Mar. 15th, 2005 09:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
-dothefandango.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Magazine Horoscopes
Author: _dothefandango
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nick and Greg
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: -insert witty 'I own nothing' quote here-
Summary: Greg reads a magazine horoscope to see how compatible he and Nick are. Nick washes dishes. Fluff ensues.
Nick slowly tipped the glass mug half filled with cold coffee into the sink, the watery brown splattering against the polished metal of the sink. It pooled and slowly swirled, trickled down into the drain, leaving only a few droplets of coffee behind. It was an unusual event when coffee was left over, as Greg and he both treated it like some substitute for oxygen. The bowl of asparagus went next. The leafy green vegetables floated serenely to the top of the porcelain white bowl as water flooded down from the kitchen tap.
“We’re only compatible in bed.”
Nick looked up, twisted his head to the left and saw Greg sprawled languidly across the sofa, a magazine in his hands. His stomach knotted.
“According to the expertise of Seventeen magazine, we don’t get along on a basic level because you’re a fire sign and I’m an earth sign, but we’re drawn to each others raw sexuality,” Greg said from behind glossy pages of sneaker ads and vapid stories.
“Christ. I thought you were trying to break up with me,” Nick admitted, tracing a sponge along the outline of the bowl before gently placing it in the washing machine.
“Nah, not yet. Maybe when you’re fat, I will,” Greg said with a bark of laughter. He lowered the magazine just a bit and peeked at Nick, eyebrows raised and a hidden smile crinkling the ends of his eyes. Greg squirmed into a more upright position, shifting his back so that it pressed against the oversized pillows which made up the back of the couch.
“Thanks,” Nick drawled, glancing down self-consciously at his stomach, assuring himself it had not grown much since dinner. “Remind me again, why I’m cleaning up the food that you cooked.”
“Because you love me,” Greg quipped, though it was mostly because Nick knew Greg wouldn’t do it anyway, and letting food sit for too long in the kitchen made him crazy. It smelled lousy and it stuck to the plates, requiring a good bit of elbow grease to get the gunk off.
“I’m a cusp, though. Leo and Virgo,” Nick told him. He let the water run over a small tablespoon, the sink water hitting just the right angle so that it sprayed out in a wide arc, sprinkling the cutting board and Nick’s new shirt with droplets of water mixed with chocolate. Greg had used the spoon to stir chocolate syrup into their milk, despite Nick’s protests that it ruined the whole point of milk. Greg thought Nick was sick for ever drinking milk without chocolate.
“I didn’t know you paid attention to that stuff,” Greg said, peering over the top of the magazine again. His wide eyes were the same color as the coffee Nick had just poured down the drain.
“One of the guys in my fraternity was into it. He did my chart once. Said I was supposed to be a ‘perfectionist’ and liked being a leader,” Nick said, drawing the sentence out as he tried to remember the specific conversation. Greg let his head fall back and a soft, breathy laugh soon followed.
“My cousin did my chart once, and told me I shouldn’t ever date perfectionists. She said that it would conflict with my sign in Saturn and I was likely to go mental on them when mercury was in retrograde.”
“Really?” There was almost an edge of biting concern to Nick’s voice.
“Well, yeah, except I’m not sure about the mercury in retrograde part. I have no clue what that means,” Greg admitted, lowering the magazine to his lap where it promptly slid off his leg and onto the floor, front page crumpled at an odd angle.
“I always wished I was a Gemini. They seem cool. Think Warrick’s a Gemini?” Greg asked, nudging at the edge of the magazine so it would fall flat against the ground without rumpling the pages. He only succeeded in making it worse.
“What, is Warrick cooler than me?”
“Grissom is cooler than you, bird boy.”
Nick looked up, fork in hand, and flung it with precision right at the pillow next to Greg’s head. It was still wet from the sink’s water.
“Hey!” Greg protested, “If you kill me, Sara will totally figure it out, so, you know…don’t bother. Unless you want to be Bubba’s prison bitch.”
“Perish the thought,” Nick said with a grimace, rummaging under the sink for dishwashing liquid. There was a disturbing assortment of strange liquids, and he suspected that there was a good reason they were in plastic containers. Greg’s kitchen had almost all the components of a good nuclear bomb. At last, the lemon colored bottle appeared behind two greenish blue ones.
Greg slowly rose from the couch, stretching and yawning and making a big fuss out of nothing at all. As Nick did the last of the dirty work in the kitchen, he looked down at the magazine at his feet and stooped over to grab at it. He let it drop in a heap on the coffee table.
“It’s terrible, you making me work so hard,” Greg moaned as he padded into the kitchen. Nick looked up sharply, his fingers still working on just how to start Greg’s kitchen machinery.
“Awful,” Nick agreed, ducking his head so Greg couldn’t see his smirk, and heard the satisfying hissing start of the dishwater.
“Guess you’ll just have to, you know,” Nick drawled, wrapping his arms suddenly around Greg, “Repay the favor…”
“I knew I only liked you for your raw sexuality,” Greg replied, leading the way back to his bedroom.
Author: _dothefandango
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nick and Greg
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: -insert witty 'I own nothing' quote here-
Summary: Greg reads a magazine horoscope to see how compatible he and Nick are. Nick washes dishes. Fluff ensues.
Nick slowly tipped the glass mug half filled with cold coffee into the sink, the watery brown splattering against the polished metal of the sink. It pooled and slowly swirled, trickled down into the drain, leaving only a few droplets of coffee behind. It was an unusual event when coffee was left over, as Greg and he both treated it like some substitute for oxygen. The bowl of asparagus went next. The leafy green vegetables floated serenely to the top of the porcelain white bowl as water flooded down from the kitchen tap.
“We’re only compatible in bed.”
Nick looked up, twisted his head to the left and saw Greg sprawled languidly across the sofa, a magazine in his hands. His stomach knotted.
“According to the expertise of Seventeen magazine, we don’t get along on a basic level because you’re a fire sign and I’m an earth sign, but we’re drawn to each others raw sexuality,” Greg said from behind glossy pages of sneaker ads and vapid stories.
“Christ. I thought you were trying to break up with me,” Nick admitted, tracing a sponge along the outline of the bowl before gently placing it in the washing machine.
“Nah, not yet. Maybe when you’re fat, I will,” Greg said with a bark of laughter. He lowered the magazine just a bit and peeked at Nick, eyebrows raised and a hidden smile crinkling the ends of his eyes. Greg squirmed into a more upright position, shifting his back so that it pressed against the oversized pillows which made up the back of the couch.
“Thanks,” Nick drawled, glancing down self-consciously at his stomach, assuring himself it had not grown much since dinner. “Remind me again, why I’m cleaning up the food that you cooked.”
“Because you love me,” Greg quipped, though it was mostly because Nick knew Greg wouldn’t do it anyway, and letting food sit for too long in the kitchen made him crazy. It smelled lousy and it stuck to the plates, requiring a good bit of elbow grease to get the gunk off.
“I’m a cusp, though. Leo and Virgo,” Nick told him. He let the water run over a small tablespoon, the sink water hitting just the right angle so that it sprayed out in a wide arc, sprinkling the cutting board and Nick’s new shirt with droplets of water mixed with chocolate. Greg had used the spoon to stir chocolate syrup into their milk, despite Nick’s protests that it ruined the whole point of milk. Greg thought Nick was sick for ever drinking milk without chocolate.
“I didn’t know you paid attention to that stuff,” Greg said, peering over the top of the magazine again. His wide eyes were the same color as the coffee Nick had just poured down the drain.
“One of the guys in my fraternity was into it. He did my chart once. Said I was supposed to be a ‘perfectionist’ and liked being a leader,” Nick said, drawing the sentence out as he tried to remember the specific conversation. Greg let his head fall back and a soft, breathy laugh soon followed.
“My cousin did my chart once, and told me I shouldn’t ever date perfectionists. She said that it would conflict with my sign in Saturn and I was likely to go mental on them when mercury was in retrograde.”
“Really?” There was almost an edge of biting concern to Nick’s voice.
“Well, yeah, except I’m not sure about the mercury in retrograde part. I have no clue what that means,” Greg admitted, lowering the magazine to his lap where it promptly slid off his leg and onto the floor, front page crumpled at an odd angle.
“I always wished I was a Gemini. They seem cool. Think Warrick’s a Gemini?” Greg asked, nudging at the edge of the magazine so it would fall flat against the ground without rumpling the pages. He only succeeded in making it worse.
“What, is Warrick cooler than me?”
“Grissom is cooler than you, bird boy.”
Nick looked up, fork in hand, and flung it with precision right at the pillow next to Greg’s head. It was still wet from the sink’s water.
“Hey!” Greg protested, “If you kill me, Sara will totally figure it out, so, you know…don’t bother. Unless you want to be Bubba’s prison bitch.”
“Perish the thought,” Nick said with a grimace, rummaging under the sink for dishwashing liquid. There was a disturbing assortment of strange liquids, and he suspected that there was a good reason they were in plastic containers. Greg’s kitchen had almost all the components of a good nuclear bomb. At last, the lemon colored bottle appeared behind two greenish blue ones.
Greg slowly rose from the couch, stretching and yawning and making a big fuss out of nothing at all. As Nick did the last of the dirty work in the kitchen, he looked down at the magazine at his feet and stooped over to grab at it. He let it drop in a heap on the coffee table.
“It’s terrible, you making me work so hard,” Greg moaned as he padded into the kitchen. Nick looked up sharply, his fingers still working on just how to start Greg’s kitchen machinery.
“Awful,” Nick agreed, ducking his head so Greg couldn’t see his smirk, and heard the satisfying hissing start of the dishwater.
“Guess you’ll just have to, you know,” Nick drawled, wrapping his arms suddenly around Greg, “Repay the favor…”
“I knew I only liked you for your raw sexuality,” Greg replied, leading the way back to his bedroom.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}