“A time to be born” (Nick/Greg, 2/3)
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nickngreg“A time to be born” (Nick/Greg, 2/3)
Here’s the second instalment, and thanks to all of you for your lovely comments. Oh, and any long-term readers of my stuff may just recognise one of the locations in this part. *g* And once again, this was written especially for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dagdrommer for doing me a favour and being a great friend too.
Title – A time to be born
Author -black_dahlia63
Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s
Rating - PG
Warning – *major angst*
Disclaimer – Not mine, sadly.
part one here
October 7th
“Aren’t you packed yet, G? We’ll miss our flight if we don’t leave soon.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“What?” Nick chuckled, wrapping his arms round Greg’s waist and grinning at him. “Four days in our favourite place – what’s not good about that?”
“What if something happens while we’re away?”
“The baby? Alison’s got two weeks to go yet, you know that,” Nick said, murmuring the words against Greg’s neck and laughing softly when an almost imperceptible shiver rippled through his lover’s body. “You know this is going to be the last time we do this?” he went on. “The last time it’ll just be us? The next time we go to Florida it’ll be Disneyworld or Universal Studios, we’ll have ten times as much luggage and everyone else on the plane will hate us because the baby’ll scream the entire journey,” and he nuzzled the side of Greg’s neck. “I want all that, G, you know I do, but I want this first,” he said. “And I think the baby’s going to let us have these four days, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Greg said, trying to sound as though he meant it, and a kiss was planted on his lips; before it could deepen, the phone rang on the nightstand, and the two of them dived for it simultaneously.
“Hello?” Nick said, almost breathlessly, and then his face relaxed. “Hi, Meg. No, nothing yet, she’s not due for another two weeks. Greg’s fine – yeah, we’re leaving for the airport as soon as he’s finished packing,” and he smirked at Greg, who rolled his eyes before grabbing clothes at random and stuffing them into his suitcase. “Four days this time, that’s all we can manage – of course I’ll call you if there’s any news, you know I will. You give Nate and Alex our love, okay? You too, sweetheart. ‘Bye,” and he hung up before turning back towards Greg, who was laughing almost under his breath. “What?”
“Thought it was Alison, didn’t you?” Greg said with a smile, ducking the pillow that was thrown at him, and he zipped his suitcase shut. “Come on, didn’t you say we had a plane to catch?”
********
They had put the crib together two days after returning from Fort Stockton, and a new dresser had been bought three weeks after that; its drawers were full of baby clothes, and the book that Greg’s mother had unearthed for him sat on top of it. A tiny black and orange sleeper, its matching hat decorated with a pair of pointed ears, was draped over the side of the crib; it was only one of many things bought on impulse since their first meeting with Alison, but it was the one that made Nick smile the most. You’re just a big kid, G, he’d said when the sleeper had been pulled from the carrier bag Greg had brought back to the apartment one evening. She isn’t going trick or treating, she’ll only be just over a week old…but that had been when Greg had raised the issue of the impossibly small pink and white Converse sneakers that Nick had bought the previous week, which Nick did have to admit pretty much evened things out.
Their first visit to Fort Stockton had been followed by a second one a month later, when they’d gone on to the hospital where Alison was due to deliver the baby - an appointment they’d anticipated with no little apprehension. Alison wanted them in the delivery room with her, but Judith had warned the three of them that this might not be possible - we’re in Texas, guys, she’d told them, and some parts of it still aren’t real progressive - but as soon as Nick and Greg had met Alison’s obstetrician they’d known there weren’t going to be any problems.
Call me Doctor Nick, the black man in his late thirties had told them. Just like the Simpsons, and when he’d flashed impossibly white teeth in a broad grin Nick and Greg had felt themselves relaxing. He’d fetched in cups of weak coffee from the machine in the hallway outside his office, and any worries Nick and Greg might have been harbouring had been quickly dispelled. I’ll make sure we get this written down so that the nurses all know what’s going on, he’d said. Mom here says she wants you in the delivery room, and that’s fine - and then he’d said casually, One of you can cut the cord when Emily’s born, if you like, which had made Nick fish a Kleenex from his pocket and blow his nose hard.
There were many times when Nick would wake in the middle of the night, find himself alone in bed and make his way towards the room down the hall; Greg would be sitting in the chair next to the crib, the book open in his hands and a gentle, faraway smile curving his lips…and as he watched from the doorway, Nick always felt his heart swelling inside his chest until he feared it would burst.
The notebook remained in the back of Greg’s underwear drawer, and he had only written in it twice since their first meeting with Alison.
The first entry had been made in the small hours of the morning, after they had lain in bed after a shift and finally agreed on a name. With Nick sleeping beside him, Greg had unearthed a stub of pencil and written Emily Elizabeth Sanders Stokes; he’d looked at these four words, a grin spreading across his face as the giving of a name finally made the dream completely real.
The second entry, made one afternoon when he’d been alone in the apartment and Nick had been giving evidence at court, was the reason why Greg hadn’t taken the notebook out again. The words he’d written had been painful to think of, and when he’d looked at them on the page he’d shed tears – and this had been the one time when writing it down hadn’t worked, because the thoughts continued to haunt him even now.
Alison can’t sign the papers until the baby’s five days old. Judith’s always told us that she could change her mind, and I’m trying so hard not to think about that, but I can’t help it.
When Nick was kidnapped it was only a week after we’d exchanged our rings, and I’d already got so many plans, so many things I wanted to say and do – and I kept thinking, what if we never find him or he’s dead when we do and I have to just let everything stop? Oh, I know if I told anybody how I’m feeling now they’d say it wasn’t the same as Nick going missing – they’d say we could start over, get another baby, but it isn’t that easy. It isn’t about the money we’ve spent, I just feel like Emily’s meant to be with us – pretty stupid, right? She hasn’t even been born yet – but I just know.
I’m not the only one who feels like this – I know Nick does too, even though he can’t talk about it any more than I can. There’ll be times after we get home from a shift and I know he’s damn near dead on his feet, but he won’t come to bed – he’ll put the TV on and just sit there, I know he isn’t really watching it, but at least he isn’t lying in bed in the dark thinking the same things I’m thinking. So I get up again and go and sit on the couch with him and put my arms round him - that’s all I can really do except pray, and I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
************
Geneva, Florida. 5.30 p.m.
Nick had fallen asleep within twenty minutes of leaving the airport, and he was finally woken by the rental car bumping along the uneven road that led to their destination. He blinked sleepily, focusing his eyes on the trees by the side of the road that were still stunted from wildfires which had burned years before he and Greg had ever come here; a hand touched the back of his neck, moving gently to erase the kinks that sleep had put into the muscles there, and Nick smiled without turning his head.
The house, located just about as close to the Everglades as you could get without being in them, belonged to an old college friend of Nick’s who’d bought it to use as a retreat from his corporate law practice. Unfortunately, despite his best intentions to the contrary, these retreats weren’t as frequent as he’d have liked; and so, when he’d extended an invitation to use the place whenever you like, man, just call and make sure I’m not there first, Nick had jumped at the chance.
The first time he and Greg had gone to Florida, they’d only been dating for a couple of months and were still at the stage where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other; the house was literally miles from anywhere, and there’d been nobody to see them as they’d shed their clothes to migrate between the brass-railed bed and the swimming pool and the wrap-around deck until they’d been completely exhausted.
They’d returned almost eight months later, when they’d been seeing each other for nearly a year; Nick had hardly spoken during the journey from Vegas, and he’d only picked at the steak that Greg had cooked on the barbecue once they’d unpacked. I need to tell you something, Nick had said eventually, when he’d come indoors to find Greg staring out of the bedroom window. Can you sit down? Please? Greg had joined him on the edge of the bed, thinking that this must be where it was going to finish and realising simultaneously that he’d been dating this man for longer than he’d ever dated anyone else - and that had been when Nick had finally told somebody what had happened to him at the age of nine. He’d stared down at the floor between his feet while he’d spoken, his voice becoming quieter and quieter; Greg had taken the words in, biting his lower lip in an attempt not to cry, wanting to find the person who’d done this to the man he loved so that he could tear them apart with his bare hands. Nick had looked up when his story was done, anxiety etching itself deeper into his face with every second of silence that elapsed; Greg had held his arms out, felt tears soaking into his shirt as Nick pressed against him – and he’d felt closer to Nick that night than he had during any of the times they’d made love.
It had been Greg who’d initiated the third visit, finding Nick’s buddy’s number in Nick’s address book and making the call himself; it had been the longest amount of time they’d spent there, a stay lasting over three weeks that had used up all of Greg’s stockpiled vacation time, but he hadn’t cared. Nick’s face had still been pock-marked with fire ant bites, and he hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour without waking in the grip of a nightmare; Desert Palms hadn’t really wanted to let him leave, had said he was “still too emotionally fragile”, but he’d remained resolute. I need to be with Greg , he’d said to one of the doctors. He can look after me better than any of you can, and if you don’t let me go I’ll sign myself out. They had spent most of the first week in the brass-railed bed, Greg holding Nick when he woke screaming and getting up to make food when Nick was ready to eat again; the second week had found the two of them outside, lying in the ancient hammock strung between two trees in an area that seemed to catch the sun most of the day, their limbs tangled together as they swung back and forth in silence and Nick slowly started to put himself back together. Bill and Jillian Stokes had flown out from Dallas that week, and when Nick’s father had cornered Greg in the kitchen Greg had felt himself quailing inwardly; he knew that Nick’s dad hadn’t always been cool with Nick being gay, and wouldn’t this just be the perfect opportunity to prove that he still really wasn’t? But before Greg could say anything, he’d found his hands grasped between those of Nick’s father. How are you doing, Greg? the older man had asked. We wanted to come and make sure you were both all right, and there’d been concern in his eyes. I’ll be all right when Nick’s better, sir, Greg had replied, a lump in his throat. I keep wondering if I’m doing enough, and he’d fallen silent when Nick’s father had shaken his head. You’re doing exactly what he needs, Bill Stokes had said. You keep doing it, Greg – and come up to Dallas and see us when he’s ready, and his eyes had twinkled for a second or two. Oh, and stop this “sir” business, Mr. Sanders – call me Bill.
And now they were here again.
Greg pulled the car up in front of the house and killed the engine before unfastening his seatbelt and turning towards his passenger. They looked at each other without speaking for a long time, the soft ticking of cooling metal echoing in their ears; eventually, Greg placed a hand behind Nick’s head, bringing him closer, and even though their lips barely touched he still felt that familiar warmth wrapping itself round his heart. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get the bags in, and we can make supper.”
*********
10.00 p.m
The sky was almost pitch black, dotted with stars, and every so often a rusty croak from a bullfrog would ring out in the slightly muggy air. The dozen or so tealight candles that Greg had lit were beginning to gutter, casting flickering light over the scattered clothing and the two people lying on the blanket that had been carried out onto the deck once they’d finished supper.
They had made love for what seemed an age, and afterwards neither of them had wanted to move. Nick was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms; Greg was lying on his side next to him, dragging the fingertips of one hand aimlessly up and down Nick’s back and thinking that sleeping out here sounded like a good idea, when Nick’s voice finally broke the silence.
“You know we won’t get to do this again any time soon, don’t you?” he said, lifting his head to look at Greg. “Judith said we shouldn’t count on having time for a sex life till Emily’s about two - if we’re lucky.”
“The hell with that - we’ll make time,” Greg replied, shifting close enough to place an arm round Nick’s shoulders. “You couldn’t go two weeks, never mind two years,” he continued, and he darted the tip of his tongue into the tender spot just behind Nick’s ear; there was a soft moan, and Nick’s head fell forward onto his arms again. “See?” Greg whispered, biting gently at Nick’s earlobe. “Scratch two weeks, make it two hours,” and his soft chuckle was cut off abruptly when Nick twisted round to face him and their mouths collided. Moments later, although Greg would have sworn neither of them could manage anything again so soon, they were a tangle of limbs and grasping fingers; by the time harsh, broken cries of release cut the night’s stillness, all the candles had gone out – and the cell phone that lay several feet away still hadn’t rung. Told you she’d let us have this, Greg heard Nick say as though the words were coming from a great distance; he wanted to reply, but his mouth seemed to be full of cotton, so he settled for draping himself across Nick and closing his eyes while a heartbeat echoed in his ears.
*************
Greg’s notebook, October 17th - 11 a.m
Alison’s due in four days. We’re flying out to Texas this afternoon, and we’re booking into a hotel until the baby comes.
Please let this all work out.
*************
Days Inn, Fort Stockton, October 19th – 2.45 a.m
Nick scrubbed a hand across his eyes in the darkness as he woke from a fitful sleep, and as his vision cleared he could make out a familiar silhouette standing by the window. Throwing the covers back, he climbed out of bed and walked across the room to where his lover stood; he wrapped an arm round Greg from behind and held him close, feeling one of Greg’s hands resting over his wrist as the two of them looked out at the parking lot.
They’d arrived two days earlier with a suitcase full of baby paraphernalia, some of which had been given to them by the rest of the team before they’d left Vegas – including a travel crib that Warrick had handed over. “You’ll need it when you get her out of the hospital,” he’d said with his customary pragmatism. “Don’t let the hotel loan you one, man, you know some of the scenes we’ve worked at hotels…” but Nick had laughed and cut him off with a wave of his hand.
Most of the previous day had been spent with Alison; they’d started out by taking her out for breakfast, where she’d eaten a huge plate of food and then polished off the pancakes Greg hadn’t been able to finish.
And now all they could do was wait.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Greg said, leaning his head back against Nick’s shoulder. “Didn’t want to wake you,” and a long silence followed; when Greg eventually spoke again, the words were barely audible, but the emotion in them made Nick’s throat tighten until he could hardly breathe.
“I want this,” Greg murmured. “I want it so much, Nicky, and if she says -” and his voice dropped to a cracked whisper. “If she says we can’t have her…”
“We’ve got to believe she won’t do that,” Nick managed to say, his eyes smarting with tears, and he lowered his head to press his lips against Greg’s bare shoulder. “But if she does -” and there was an audible sniff from Greg that tore at Nick’s heart “– if she does, then we’ll get through it. We will,” he said, with all the conviction he could muster. “You want something to drink? Coke? There’s a machine down on the next floor.”
“Yeah,” Greg said. “Please,” and he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“Don’t be,” Nick said, stepping in front of Greg and placing a hand against one side of his face. “We’ll be fine,” and he kissed Greg lightly on the mouth before moving to the nearby chair where he’d left his jeans; he put them on over the boxer shorts he’d worn to go to sleep, and he checked the back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll be right back,” he said, managing to keep his voice even, and he left the room.
Down on the next landing, it took Nick three attempts to get his money into the vending machine and extract two cans of Coke. Leaning against the wall, he popped the tab on one of the cans and drank deeply before closing his eyes against the tears that still threatened.
He recalled the year, seemingly so long ago now, when the two of them had spent Christmas at the ranch in Dallas for the second time. Greg had been at the centre of a group of Nick’s nieces and nephews for the whole of Christmas Eve - holding them enthralled with some of his more printable anecdotes from work, lifting the smaller children up to place ornaments near the top of the Christmas tree, grinning good-naturedly at the cries of “But I want Greg to read to me!” when bedtime finally came. It had been much later that evening, when everyone else was asleep, that Nick had finally managed to get Greg alone. “What do you think about having some of our own?” he’d asked, his heart in his throat, because he’d never thought he’d care about anyone enough to ask them this – and when he’d seen the way Greg’s face lit up, he’d had his answer.
God, please, Nick thought now, as he turned and headed for the stairs. If this goes wrong, it’s going to kill him…
“Nick! Nick!” and he looked up to see Greg leaning down over the stair railing, not seeming to care that he was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts and was shouting loudly enough to wake the dead. “Her water just broke -”
*************
Pecos County Memorial Hospital, Fort Stockton – 6.45 a.m
“Okay, Alison, the next time you feel a contraction coming I want you to push really hard,” the doctor said, looking up from the foot of the bed. “One or two more, and you’ve done it.”
“I can’t do it.”
“You can,” Nick said softly, reaching for the washcloth with his free hand and pressing it against Alison’s forehead. “You’re doing fine,” but his heart ached as he looked at her sweat-beaded face. We’ll stick with our kids, he’d told Greg when they’d first made their decision to have a family. No matter how badly they screw up. If there was ever a time when someone needed their family, it was now, and how could Alison’s parents not want to help her through this?
“God, I want this out of me,” Alison whimpered, and she renewed her grip on Nick’s hand with enough strength to make bones grind together beneath the skin; her face turned crimson with effort, and a moan was forced out through gritted teeth.
What happened next seemed to stretch out into hours, although in reality it took less than two minutes.
“Nicky! I can see the head!” - and when Nick looked down to the foot of the bed Greg was standing next to the doctor, his face drained of all colour and his eyes brimming with tears.
“Come on, Alison, one more – you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” the doctor urged. “One more…”
“I - can’t,” Alison managed to say, but her hand tightened on Nick’s again – squeezing so hard that by the following day he would barely be able to move it – and a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a scream escaped her lips.
“That’s it, you’ve done it!”
“Oh my god, Nicky, look…”
A wail broke the sudden silence, slicing into the core of Nick’s heart, and he blinked away tears as the doctor held up a tiny, blood-streaked form.
“Here she is, Mr. Stokes – are you going to cut the cord?”
“Yes, he is,” Alison said, finally letting go of Nick’s hand and managing to smile as her head fell back against the pillows – and when Nick forced himself to move, the first thing he did was to lean over her and press his lips to her flushed, perspiring forehead.
“Thank you,” he said in a shaky voice, and he felt her arms wind themselves tightly round his neck – and as the baby continued to cry, nobody else heard the words that were whispered in Nick’s ear.
“You look after her, you hear?”
**********
7.30 a.m.
“How is she?”
“She’s asleep,” Greg said as he joined Nick on the two-seater couch in the room down the hall from the delivery suite, and he grinned as he looked down at Nick’s right hand. “How’s that hand now?”
“I might get some feeling back in about a week,” Nick said ruefully, adjusting the ice pack that he’d been given – and before either of them could say anything else, the door swung open to admit a nurse wheeling a Perspex cradle.
“Is she all right?” were the first words out of Greg’s mouth, and a lump rose in his throat as he thought of what his father had told him so long ago.
“You’ll understand when you’re a dad, because you’ll worry even when you know you’re nuts to do it.”
“She’s absolutely fine, Greg,” was the answer. “She’s going to need feeding, would you like to do it?” and a warm smile spread across the nurse’s face. “I don’t think Nick’s quite got the use of that hand back yet, do you?” and Greg supposed that he must have managed to say something in response – because moments later, the nurse was leaning over him and placing the bundle in the crook of his right arm. “I’ll just go and get her bottle,” the nurse said, the words sounding as though they were coming from a great distance; the door opened and then closed again, and for the first time the three of them were alone.
Infinitely slowly, afraid he would drop her at any moment, Greg opened the blanket and looked at the little figure in the yellow sleeper. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists, her rosebud mouth gently pursed; she had almost impossibly long eyelashes, and the thickest shock of hair Greg had ever seen on a baby.
Our daughter.
Ours.
“Nick?” he managed to say faintly. “Nicky?”
“Right here,” and when an arm snaked around Greg’s shoulders he leaned carefully against Nick’s side. “Look at her, G,” Nick said, the soft wonder in his voice making something tighten in Greg’s chest. “Look at her,” and Greg’s world shrank until nothing registered except for Nick’s arm round him and the warm weight in the crook of his arm.
“Hei,” he whispered, tracing a fingertip down the velvet softness of his daughter’s face and knowing that even though she was less than an hour old he was already prepared to die for her. “Hei, kjaere.”
*********
December 12th
Dear Nick, Greg and Emily –
Hope you guys are well – how’s the weather out there in Vegas?
We’ve been living in Louisiana for nearly six weeks, and things are starting to go really well for us. I’m back at college, learning to be a beautician – I figured people are always gonna need their nails and their eyebrows done, right? Cassie’s settling down in school – she wasn’t too sure at first, but she’s made a few friends already, and I know she feels better about being able to have them come and play in a house with a real back yard instead of where we were living before.
We’re not going to be living with my aunt and uncle for ever – I’m looking for a part time job that fits in with my college hours, and once I do that we’re going to rent a little place of our own. It was kind of scary when we first moved here, but I’m glad we did, because this way I get to start over and really make things better for me and Cassie.
Hope you have a great Christmas – are you going to California or Dallas? I keep thinking of Emily with all those cousins fussing over her.
Take good care of each other, and I hope we’ll hear from you soon.
Love from Alison and Cassie xxx.
December 18th
Dear Alison –
It was so good to get your letter yesterday. It’s great that you guys are settling in where you are now – and Louisiana isn’t that far from Texas! We’re spending Christmas with Nick’s folks, so let us know if you’d like to meet up. I know you said you weren’t ready to do that, but if you change your mind we’ll work something out. We fly out on Christmas Eve, and you’ve got our cell numbers if you want to call, okay?
We’ve put some pictures of us in with this letter so you can see how big Emily’s gotten already! Most of them are from a birthday party we went to last week for someone we work with (remember we told you about Catherine?) – we had to make sure Emily was still in the baby carrier when we left, because a whole bunch of people looked like they wanted to take her home with them. Never mind all her cousins, she’s got a lot of honorary aunts and uncles now!
We can’t begin to tell you how much things have changed since we brought Emily back to Vegas with us. We haven’t slept a whole night yet, we’ve just about managed to figure out how to wash baby clothes without shrinking them – but we’re so happy we still can’t believe it. There isn’t any way we can ever thank you enough for what you did for us, but we’re going to keep doing it anyway.
Happy Christmas to you both, and all the love in the world –
Nick, Greg and Emily xxx
Dallas – Christmas Eve
“How is she?”
“Still asleep,” Greg said in mild astonishment, once he’d craned his neck round to the back seat of the rental car. “You know what? I think I’ve figured it out,” and he grinned at Nick. “We just have to set up a schedule where one of us drives her round in the car all the time.”
“She’ll sleep through soon,” Nick told him as he guided the car up his parents’ driveway. “The paediatrician said so, remember?” and the tone of his voice implied that he wanted to believe this would happen, but didn’t have much faith that it would. He brought the car to a halt and laid his hand on the horn, a smile curving his lips when the front door opened. “Hi, mom!” he called out as he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out, and moments later he and his mother had their arms wrapped round each other.
“How’s that gorgeous granddaughter of mine?”
“Well, we figured we’d leave her behind,” Nick said with a grin as he glanced back over his shoulder at Greg, who was occupied with unfastening the straps securing the child seat; he was muttering in Norwegian under his breath as he did so, because this was the one aspect of having a child that still presented him with problems. “You know, give her the run of the place…”
“You always did have a smart mouth, Nick,” his mother said fondly, and then her eyes lit up as she saw Greg approaching from the passenger side of the car, holding the seat by its handle. “There she is – hello, darling,” she cooed as she bent down to look at the sleeping figure. “Have you been a good girl?”
“She slept all the way from the airport,” Greg said. “Hi, Jillian,” and he kissed Nick’s mother on both cheeks when she stood upright again. “Are we the first ones here?”
“Only by a little while,” was the answer. “Meg and Russ and the boys are half an hour away, they called a little while ago – come on in, I just made a pot of coffee.”
“You want to grab her bag, Nick?”
“I got it,” Nick replied, reaching into the car and grasping the diaper bag that lay on the back seat; as he moved to follow his mother and Greg, he glanced up at the darkening sky and smiled. Her first Christmas, he thought, and the thought was still warming his heart as he made his way up onto the porch and into the house where he’d grown up.
He could see the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, its tip almost touching the ceiling; boxes which he knew contained the decorations were stacked nearby, and the same anticipation that had always gripped him as a child wound itself around him now.
A fretful wail echoed nearby, and it was immediately followed by Greg murmuring soothingly in Norwegian; Nick remained where he was, his ears picking up a quiet exchange of conversation between his mother and Greg in the kitchen and the soft whistling of the kettle. Once again, the idea that this was his family – his own family – seized him unawares, coiling round his heart and finding a place at its centre.
“Mom, where’s dad?” he called out. “Don’t tell me he’s out this late.”
“He’s right here,” came the response from the living room before Nick’s mother could answer the question, and Nick watched his father lever himself out of the chair near the fireplace. “You caught me napping,” and Bill Stokes crossed the room to join his youngest son. He moved slowly, his slightly hesitant gait clear evidence of the arthritis that was plaguing him more and more of late – but when he drew level with Nick, he hugged him with his habitual fierceness.
“Good to see you, Pancho.”
“You too, Cisco,” Nick said, a smile appearing on his face as his father’s gaze was directed towards the kitchen. “Greg, you want to bring her out here?” he called out. “I think her grandpa would like to feed her.”
*********
“Greg, lift me up! I can’t reach!”
“All right, Alex,” Greg said good-humouredly; he hoisted the five-year-old onto his shoulders before moving closer to the Christmas tree, and he waited until the Snoopy ornament had been hung from one of the branches. “You’re just about too big for me to lift now, kiddo, you know that?”
“Are we still gonna be buddies?” Alex asked once he’d been set down on the floor, and his face was pinched with anxiety. “Nathan said now you’ve got your own kid you won’t want to hang out with me any more when you come up here.”
“Your big brother’s a smartass,” Greg whispered in the little boy’s ear, and there was a giggle in response. “You know what? Once I make a friend, they stay my friend, all right?” he went on, and he glanced across the room to where Nick’s sister was holding Emily. “You want to hold her?”
“I can’t,” Alex said, although the look on his face seemed to say he wanted to. “I’ll drop her.”
“No you won’t,” Greg said matter-of-factly, taking Alex by the hand. “Come on,” and he led the way across the room. “You sit right in the big chair,” and he leaned down to scoop Emily from her aunt’s arms. “Now, put your arms together – yeah, like that,” he said, and he lowered his daughter carefully onto Alex’s lap. “You’ve got to make sure her head stays on your arm, because she’s not very strong yet,” and Greg knelt next to the chair as Alex looked at his new cousin in fascination. Somebody’s camera flashed, but the little boy didn’t appear to notice – and then finally, after a long, rapt silence, he lifted his head and looked at Greg.
“How’d she get in her mom’s stomach?” he said. “I asked mom how I got in hers, and she said she’d tell me later.”
“Oh no,” Greg said, as he saw Nick’s sister muffle a giggle. “I’m not having that talk until she’s old enough,” and he nodded towards Emily. “You and Russ are on your own with this one, Meg,” he said, and as he joined in the good-natured laughter that followed he let his mind go back to the Christmas two years since – when Nick had found him out on the front porch of the ranch, gazing up at the stars because he couldn’t sleep, and had asked him what he thought about having children of their own. He’d nodded in response, because he’d been rendered speechless, but at the same time he’d felt another piece of the life he wanted for himself dropping into place…and now, drawn even further into Nick’s family, he felt exactly the same way.
**********
1.20 a.m, Christmas Day
The excited children had finally been shoehorned into their sleeping bags in the guest bedroom they were sharing; the adults had remained up for several more hours, retrieving gifts from assorted hiding places to place them beneath the now-decorated tree and then talking over glasses of Jillian’s home made egg nog. Emily was passed around and fussed over, particularly by the few people who hadn’t been able to make it to Vegas for the party Nick and Greg had thrown once the adoption was final – and it was only when she had started to get fretful that the gathering in the living room had broken up.
The room they’d been given had been Nick’s when he’d lived at the ranch; striped wallpaper had been replaced by cream paint, the single bed by a double that always seemed to sag in the middle – and for now, with Greg lying behind him and Emily snoring gently in the travel crib less than two feet from the bed, this was Nick’s world.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Nick whispered into the darkness, but a hand rested on his shoulder in the near-darkness and squeezed gently.
“Nicky?”
“Dad just looks so tired,” Nick said softly. “I never really noticed it that much before,” and he let out a shaky sigh. “His arthritis is worse, did you see?”
“He’s getting old,” Greg said, running his hand slowly down Nick’s arm. There would have been times when he might have grinned and followed this remark with something along the lines of it’ll happen to you one day, but he sensed that this was not one of those times – so he settled for holding Nick tightly without saying anything else for a long time.
“Sorry,” Nick said eventually, when Greg had just begun to think he might be asleep. “It’s Christmas - we’re supposed to be happy, right?”
“We’re not supposed to be anything,” Greg replied, pressing Nick back against the pillows. “You love your dad and you’re worried, you can’t help that,” he went on as he looked down at Nick, whose face was barely visible in the dim glow of Emily’s night light. “Bullshit the rest of them round the dinner table later, but tell me what you really think, okay?” and when the question was met with a silent nod, Greg leaned down and kissed Nick on the mouth. Nick lifted his head to respond, the fingers of one hand tangling gently in Greg’s hair; when the kiss eventually broke, Nick almost felt rather than heard the love you which was murmured against his lips before he was drawn into the familiar warmth of Greg’s arms. He let his head find its familiar resting place in the spot where Greg’s neck met his right shoulder, and he closed his eyes; lulled by the combined breathing of his lover and their daughter, he drifted into sleep – and it would only be when they woke to the excited chatter of the older children seven hours later that Nick and Greg realised that Emily had finally slept through the night.
*********
December 27th, 8.45 a.m
“How come Uncle Nick and Greg have to go so early?”
“’Cause we have to go back to work, that’s how come,” Greg said as he fastened the child seat into the back of the car. “Don’t pout like that, kiddo, it won’t be long before we see you again.”
“Bet it’ll be Easter,” Alex said gloomily. “That’s a long time.”
“Well, how about if I write to you? Send you a postcard?”
“G, we need to get out of here,” Nick said. “We’ll miss our plane.”
“He’s bossy, isn’t he?” Greg stage-whispered, reaching down to ruffle Alex’s hair. “I will write you, I promise,” and he hugged the little boy before climbing into the driver’s seat and closing the door.
“Now, you three travel safely,” Nick’s mother said, “and you’ll call me when you make it home, won’t you?”
“We always do,” Nick said with a smile as he stood next to the car, and then his dark eyes took on an anxious expression. “Mom, do me a favour, would you?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“See if you can get dad to the doctor,” Nick told her. “I’m just…”
“…fussing over nothing, the same way your mother is,” a voice said behind them - and when Nick turned round his father was several feet away, dusting his hands on the faded brown pants he always wore to go to the stables and tend to the horses. “All he’ll do is prescribe me a lot of things I don’t need, Pancho – I’m an old man, that’s all that’s wrong with me.”
“Dad -”
“You mind me, now,” was the response, but his father’s eyes were twinkling as he stepped closer. “I could still beat you if we were racing two of the horses, and you know it,” and Nick was enveloped in a hug; he returned the gesture, the scrape of an unshaven cheek against his own along with the familiar scent of his father’s cologne imprinting themselves on his subconscious and bringing inexplicable tears to his eyes.
“You look after that baby,” his father told him, and Nick heard himself say that of course he would. He watched his father walk around to the other side of the car to shake Greg’s hand, making the ritual of farewells complete, and then Nick got into the passenger seat.
Moments later, the car’s engine thrummed into life and they headed down the driveway; from the passenger seat, Nick craned his neck and stared back in the direction from which they’d come. His parents still stood on the front porch next to his sister and her youngest son, all four of them waving – and Nick kept his eyes on them until they became too small to make out in the distance.
*******
Las Vegas, February 14th – 6.45 p.m
“Hey,” Greg said softly as he knelt next to the bathtub with one arm braced carefully round his daughter. “You like that? You do, don’t you?” He lifted a red plastic cup filled with water and let it trickle slowly onto Emily’s stomach, provoking a squeal of delight. “I think you’re going to be a swimmer when you’re bigger,” he told her. “Yes, I do,” and he lifted her slowly out of the water before wrapping her in the towel that had been draped over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you all dry and comfy, shall we?” he said, and once he’d pulled the plug out of the bathtub drain he rose to his feet; cradling Emily against his chest, he left the bathroom, and a handful of steps brought them into the nursery.
“It’s nearly bedtime, sweet pea,” he said as he dried her carefully and set about putting a new diaper on her almost without thinking about it. “We’ll get you all dressed and then you can have a drink, how about that?” He was instantly rewarded with a waving of chubby hands and a toothless grin – and it didn’t matter that there’d been thousands of smiles like this now, it still hit him straight in the heart the way it had done the very first time it had happened.
A minute or two later he was closing the last snap on Emily’s Minnie Mouse sleeper, and as he scooped her up in one arm before heading to the kitchen he reflected that in the beginning things hadn’t been this easy. Never mind all the practice he’d had on other peoples’ babies, never mind what the nurses at the hospital had taught them both - doing it on your own was completely different.
During the first few days they’d had Emily at home, he’d been in such awe of this tiny person that he’d been afraid he would hurt her if he did anything other than hold her; he’d deferred to Nick at bath time, not because he’d really wanted to, but because he’d been scared he was going to drop Emily and because Nick had made it look so easy.
“No you don’t,” Nick had said on their fifth night back in Vegas, when Greg had once again offered to go and “take care of things in the kitchen” once bedtime had come around. “The bottle’s made up, the dishes are going to wait – get your ass back over here,” but despite the smile, the expression in Nick’s eyes had said that he understood. “She isn’t going to drown, you’re not going to drop her,” he’d told Greg while he’d tested the temperature of the water in the baby bath they’d used when Emily had first come home. “She knows we aren’t going to hurt her – see? Put your hand behind her head, just like they showed us -” Nick had been kind and he’d been patient, the way he’d always been over everything else, and it hadn’t taken long for Greg’s apprehension to disappear – and now, as he stood in the kitchen waiting for the bottle to warm up, he could hardly remember a time when it hadn’t felt as though he’d known what to do.
“Here we go,” he said, removing the bottle from the jug of hot water and testing it on his inner wrist to the accompaniment of agitated cries. “I know, I know,” he continued soothingly. “Let’s go,” and he headed back along the hallway.
******
“That’s better,” he murmured, almost under his breath, as he settled into the chair and guided the bottle towards Emily’s mouth. She grasped it with both hands, and seconds later the only sounds in the room were the creaking of the chair and the soft smacking of lips. Looking down at her face, the blue-grey eyes already beginning to close with the onset of sleep, Greg felt his throat tighten until he was hardly able to breathe; he’d never imagined that it would be possible to have the same feelings for someone else that he had for Nick, a love so fierce and consuming that it hurt – but the past four months had taught him otherwise.
He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, the sound making Emily’s eyes open wide again for a second or two, and he smiled down at her before he began to sing.
“Bæ bæ lille lam
Har du noe ull?
Ja ja kjære barn,
jeg har kroppen full.
Søndagsklær til far,
og søndagsklær til mor,
og to par strømper til bitte lille bror.”
Greg sat still for a long time once the song was finished, and then he rose carefully to his feet with the warm, limp body of his sleeping daughter cradled in one arm. Setting the empty bottle on the dresser, he lowered Emily into the crib and covered her with a blanket; and once this was done, he leaned down to run a hand gently over her hair.
“You’re the best little girl in the world,” he said in a hushed whisper, even though Emily was asleep, because he never put her to bed at night without telling her this. “I love you so much…Nicky loves you…and we’ll see you in the morning,” and he kissed her forehead before picking up the bottle again and tiptoeing from the room.
He’d barely finished tidying the kitchen when there was the sound of a key turning in the front door, and he found himself smiling again. He turned towards the kitchen doorway, and Nick was standing there with a bunch of dark red roses in one hand and a warm smile on his lips.
“Didn’t think I’d forget what day it was, did you?” he said, crossing the kitchen and handing the flowers over. “Emily said I should get you these.”
“Well, she told me,” Greg said as he set the flowers down on the nearby table and wrapped his arms round Nick’s waist, “that I had to make you dinner, run you a bath and make you come so hard you wouldn’t know what day it was.”
“She did?” Nick said, his lips touching Greg’s ear as he spoke; a hand curved round Greg’s hip and squeezed, pulling them even closer together, and all at once every fibre of Greg’s being went taut with need. “In that order?”
“She wasn’t real specific,” Greg said, his voice slightly unsteady. “She - god,” and he bit back a moan as a hand stole to his crotch and rested there. “Please, Nicky,” he breathed, because all he could think of was three months three weeks and we haven’t; a low, dirty chuckle vibrated against the side of his neck, rendering him so hard he thought he would explode.
Nick’s other hand moved to the back of Greg’s head, fingers winding in his hair and pulling hard; they looked at each other for a split second before their mouths collided, teeth mashing against lips and tongues twisting like snakes – and when the phone rang, it was hardly audible over the roaring in Greg’s ears.
“Leave it,” Nick gasped, his eyes heavy-lidded and the pupils already half blown. “Come on,” and the two of them stumbled along the hallway past the room where their daughter slept.
*********
“G.”
“Mm,” Greg muttered against Nick’s chest; he didn’t know what time it was, but there was no light coming through the blinds now, and he was so wrung out that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move for at least three days.
“What’s for dinner?”
“You’re holding me to that?”
“Emily said you had to, remember?” Nick replied. “Or was that just a trick to get me into bed?”
“Didn’t think I needed one,” Greg answered smartly, rolling away to dodge the swat directed at his butt. “I got steak, will that do?”
“It’ll do fine,” Nick said. “Come here,” and he propped himself up on his side to allow their lips to meet. The kiss was slow, lingering, drained of its previous urgency, and when they broke apart there was a dazed, sappy smile on Nick’s face. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Greg said, and he levered himself out of bed with a groan. He crossed the room, grabbed a robe from the back of the door and headed for the kitchen – and as he set about fixing dinner, he was pretty sure that the smile that had been on Nick’s face was on his own too.
**********
“Nick!” Greg called out, once he’d slid each of the steaks onto a plate and set them on the table, “it’s ready!” but there was no answer, and he grinned. Putting some salad next to each of the steaks, he added a knife and fork to each plate before picking them up and heading out of the kitchen.
Thought you might like to eat this in bed was what he’d been planning to say, but the words dried up before he could give them voice.
Nick sat on the edge of the bed, the phone still clutched in his hands. He was staring at the floor between his knees, and there wasn’t a drop of colour in his face; he didn’t react when Greg finally managed to say his name, and it was only when Greg set the plates on the end of the bed and knelt in front of him that he looked up.
“He told mom he’d go to the doctor just so we’d all quit nagging him,” Nick said, and his voice was hollow and drained of all emotion. “The guy took a blood test, said he was probably anaemic and that was all, and next thing they know he’s calling dad back in for some more tests.” He broke off, swallowing hard, and Greg felt apprehension creeping through his veins. “He asked them both to go into his office today, and it – he’s got cancer,” and the helpless, trapped expression in Nick’s eyes spoke of some hidden emotion struggling to get out. “The main growth’s in his liver, but it’s spread to his stomach and his kidneys, and they don’t think he’ll make it to Thanksgiving,” Nick said, and as the two of them stared at each other they heard Emily begin to cry in the room next door.
Conclusion coming soon.
AN: The song Greg sings to his daughter translates as –
Baa baa little lamb
Have you any wool
Yes, yes, dear child
My body's full
Sunday's trousers for the father
Sunday's trousers for the mother
And a pair of socks for the wee little brother.
Here’s the second instalment, and thanks to all of you for your lovely comments. Oh, and any long-term readers of my stuff may just recognise one of the locations in this part. *g* And once again, this was written especially for
dagdrommer for doing me a favour and being a great friend too. Title – A time to be born
Author -
black_dahlia63Characters – Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, various OC’s
Rating - PG
Warning – *major angst*
Disclaimer – Not mine, sadly.
part one here
October 7th
“Aren’t you packed yet, G? We’ll miss our flight if we don’t leave soon.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“What?” Nick chuckled, wrapping his arms round Greg’s waist and grinning at him. “Four days in our favourite place – what’s not good about that?”
“What if something happens while we’re away?”
“The baby? Alison’s got two weeks to go yet, you know that,” Nick said, murmuring the words against Greg’s neck and laughing softly when an almost imperceptible shiver rippled through his lover’s body. “You know this is going to be the last time we do this?” he went on. “The last time it’ll just be us? The next time we go to Florida it’ll be Disneyworld or Universal Studios, we’ll have ten times as much luggage and everyone else on the plane will hate us because the baby’ll scream the entire journey,” and he nuzzled the side of Greg’s neck. “I want all that, G, you know I do, but I want this first,” he said. “And I think the baby’s going to let us have these four days, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Greg said, trying to sound as though he meant it, and a kiss was planted on his lips; before it could deepen, the phone rang on the nightstand, and the two of them dived for it simultaneously.
“Hello?” Nick said, almost breathlessly, and then his face relaxed. “Hi, Meg. No, nothing yet, she’s not due for another two weeks. Greg’s fine – yeah, we’re leaving for the airport as soon as he’s finished packing,” and he smirked at Greg, who rolled his eyes before grabbing clothes at random and stuffing them into his suitcase. “Four days this time, that’s all we can manage – of course I’ll call you if there’s any news, you know I will. You give Nate and Alex our love, okay? You too, sweetheart. ‘Bye,” and he hung up before turning back towards Greg, who was laughing almost under his breath. “What?”
“Thought it was Alison, didn’t you?” Greg said with a smile, ducking the pillow that was thrown at him, and he zipped his suitcase shut. “Come on, didn’t you say we had a plane to catch?”
********
They had put the crib together two days after returning from Fort Stockton, and a new dresser had been bought three weeks after that; its drawers were full of baby clothes, and the book that Greg’s mother had unearthed for him sat on top of it. A tiny black and orange sleeper, its matching hat decorated with a pair of pointed ears, was draped over the side of the crib; it was only one of many things bought on impulse since their first meeting with Alison, but it was the one that made Nick smile the most. You’re just a big kid, G, he’d said when the sleeper had been pulled from the carrier bag Greg had brought back to the apartment one evening. She isn’t going trick or treating, she’ll only be just over a week old…but that had been when Greg had raised the issue of the impossibly small pink and white Converse sneakers that Nick had bought the previous week, which Nick did have to admit pretty much evened things out.
Their first visit to Fort Stockton had been followed by a second one a month later, when they’d gone on to the hospital where Alison was due to deliver the baby - an appointment they’d anticipated with no little apprehension. Alison wanted them in the delivery room with her, but Judith had warned the three of them that this might not be possible - we’re in Texas, guys, she’d told them, and some parts of it still aren’t real progressive - but as soon as Nick and Greg had met Alison’s obstetrician they’d known there weren’t going to be any problems.
Call me Doctor Nick, the black man in his late thirties had told them. Just like the Simpsons, and when he’d flashed impossibly white teeth in a broad grin Nick and Greg had felt themselves relaxing. He’d fetched in cups of weak coffee from the machine in the hallway outside his office, and any worries Nick and Greg might have been harbouring had been quickly dispelled. I’ll make sure we get this written down so that the nurses all know what’s going on, he’d said. Mom here says she wants you in the delivery room, and that’s fine - and then he’d said casually, One of you can cut the cord when Emily’s born, if you like, which had made Nick fish a Kleenex from his pocket and blow his nose hard.
There were many times when Nick would wake in the middle of the night, find himself alone in bed and make his way towards the room down the hall; Greg would be sitting in the chair next to the crib, the book open in his hands and a gentle, faraway smile curving his lips…and as he watched from the doorway, Nick always felt his heart swelling inside his chest until he feared it would burst.
The notebook remained in the back of Greg’s underwear drawer, and he had only written in it twice since their first meeting with Alison.
The first entry had been made in the small hours of the morning, after they had lain in bed after a shift and finally agreed on a name. With Nick sleeping beside him, Greg had unearthed a stub of pencil and written Emily Elizabeth Sanders Stokes; he’d looked at these four words, a grin spreading across his face as the giving of a name finally made the dream completely real.
The second entry, made one afternoon when he’d been alone in the apartment and Nick had been giving evidence at court, was the reason why Greg hadn’t taken the notebook out again. The words he’d written had been painful to think of, and when he’d looked at them on the page he’d shed tears – and this had been the one time when writing it down hadn’t worked, because the thoughts continued to haunt him even now.
Alison can’t sign the papers until the baby’s five days old. Judith’s always told us that she could change her mind, and I’m trying so hard not to think about that, but I can’t help it.
When Nick was kidnapped it was only a week after we’d exchanged our rings, and I’d already got so many plans, so many things I wanted to say and do – and I kept thinking, what if we never find him or he’s dead when we do and I have to just let everything stop? Oh, I know if I told anybody how I’m feeling now they’d say it wasn’t the same as Nick going missing – they’d say we could start over, get another baby, but it isn’t that easy. It isn’t about the money we’ve spent, I just feel like Emily’s meant to be with us – pretty stupid, right? She hasn’t even been born yet – but I just know.
I’m not the only one who feels like this – I know Nick does too, even though he can’t talk about it any more than I can. There’ll be times after we get home from a shift and I know he’s damn near dead on his feet, but he won’t come to bed – he’ll put the TV on and just sit there, I know he isn’t really watching it, but at least he isn’t lying in bed in the dark thinking the same things I’m thinking. So I get up again and go and sit on the couch with him and put my arms round him - that’s all I can really do except pray, and I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
************
Geneva, Florida. 5.30 p.m.
Nick had fallen asleep within twenty minutes of leaving the airport, and he was finally woken by the rental car bumping along the uneven road that led to their destination. He blinked sleepily, focusing his eyes on the trees by the side of the road that were still stunted from wildfires which had burned years before he and Greg had ever come here; a hand touched the back of his neck, moving gently to erase the kinks that sleep had put into the muscles there, and Nick smiled without turning his head.
The house, located just about as close to the Everglades as you could get without being in them, belonged to an old college friend of Nick’s who’d bought it to use as a retreat from his corporate law practice. Unfortunately, despite his best intentions to the contrary, these retreats weren’t as frequent as he’d have liked; and so, when he’d extended an invitation to use the place whenever you like, man, just call and make sure I’m not there first, Nick had jumped at the chance.
The first time he and Greg had gone to Florida, they’d only been dating for a couple of months and were still at the stage where they couldn’t keep their hands off each other; the house was literally miles from anywhere, and there’d been nobody to see them as they’d shed their clothes to migrate between the brass-railed bed and the swimming pool and the wrap-around deck until they’d been completely exhausted.
They’d returned almost eight months later, when they’d been seeing each other for nearly a year; Nick had hardly spoken during the journey from Vegas, and he’d only picked at the steak that Greg had cooked on the barbecue once they’d unpacked. I need to tell you something, Nick had said eventually, when he’d come indoors to find Greg staring out of the bedroom window. Can you sit down? Please? Greg had joined him on the edge of the bed, thinking that this must be where it was going to finish and realising simultaneously that he’d been dating this man for longer than he’d ever dated anyone else - and that had been when Nick had finally told somebody what had happened to him at the age of nine. He’d stared down at the floor between his feet while he’d spoken, his voice becoming quieter and quieter; Greg had taken the words in, biting his lower lip in an attempt not to cry, wanting to find the person who’d done this to the man he loved so that he could tear them apart with his bare hands. Nick had looked up when his story was done, anxiety etching itself deeper into his face with every second of silence that elapsed; Greg had held his arms out, felt tears soaking into his shirt as Nick pressed against him – and he’d felt closer to Nick that night than he had during any of the times they’d made love.
It had been Greg who’d initiated the third visit, finding Nick’s buddy’s number in Nick’s address book and making the call himself; it had been the longest amount of time they’d spent there, a stay lasting over three weeks that had used up all of Greg’s stockpiled vacation time, but he hadn’t cared. Nick’s face had still been pock-marked with fire ant bites, and he hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour without waking in the grip of a nightmare; Desert Palms hadn’t really wanted to let him leave, had said he was “still too emotionally fragile”, but he’d remained resolute. I need to be with Greg , he’d said to one of the doctors. He can look after me better than any of you can, and if you don’t let me go I’ll sign myself out. They had spent most of the first week in the brass-railed bed, Greg holding Nick when he woke screaming and getting up to make food when Nick was ready to eat again; the second week had found the two of them outside, lying in the ancient hammock strung between two trees in an area that seemed to catch the sun most of the day, their limbs tangled together as they swung back and forth in silence and Nick slowly started to put himself back together. Bill and Jillian Stokes had flown out from Dallas that week, and when Nick’s father had cornered Greg in the kitchen Greg had felt himself quailing inwardly; he knew that Nick’s dad hadn’t always been cool with Nick being gay, and wouldn’t this just be the perfect opportunity to prove that he still really wasn’t? But before Greg could say anything, he’d found his hands grasped between those of Nick’s father. How are you doing, Greg? the older man had asked. We wanted to come and make sure you were both all right, and there’d been concern in his eyes. I’ll be all right when Nick’s better, sir, Greg had replied, a lump in his throat. I keep wondering if I’m doing enough, and he’d fallen silent when Nick’s father had shaken his head. You’re doing exactly what he needs, Bill Stokes had said. You keep doing it, Greg – and come up to Dallas and see us when he’s ready, and his eyes had twinkled for a second or two. Oh, and stop this “sir” business, Mr. Sanders – call me Bill.
And now they were here again.
Greg pulled the car up in front of the house and killed the engine before unfastening his seatbelt and turning towards his passenger. They looked at each other without speaking for a long time, the soft ticking of cooling metal echoing in their ears; eventually, Greg placed a hand behind Nick’s head, bringing him closer, and even though their lips barely touched he still felt that familiar warmth wrapping itself round his heart. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get the bags in, and we can make supper.”
*********
10.00 p.m
The sky was almost pitch black, dotted with stars, and every so often a rusty croak from a bullfrog would ring out in the slightly muggy air. The dozen or so tealight candles that Greg had lit were beginning to gutter, casting flickering light over the scattered clothing and the two people lying on the blanket that had been carried out onto the deck once they’d finished supper.
They had made love for what seemed an age, and afterwards neither of them had wanted to move. Nick was lying on his stomach, his head resting on his folded arms; Greg was lying on his side next to him, dragging the fingertips of one hand aimlessly up and down Nick’s back and thinking that sleeping out here sounded like a good idea, when Nick’s voice finally broke the silence.
“You know we won’t get to do this again any time soon, don’t you?” he said, lifting his head to look at Greg. “Judith said we shouldn’t count on having time for a sex life till Emily’s about two - if we’re lucky.”
“The hell with that - we’ll make time,” Greg replied, shifting close enough to place an arm round Nick’s shoulders. “You couldn’t go two weeks, never mind two years,” he continued, and he darted the tip of his tongue into the tender spot just behind Nick’s ear; there was a soft moan, and Nick’s head fell forward onto his arms again. “See?” Greg whispered, biting gently at Nick’s earlobe. “Scratch two weeks, make it two hours,” and his soft chuckle was cut off abruptly when Nick twisted round to face him and their mouths collided. Moments later, although Greg would have sworn neither of them could manage anything again so soon, they were a tangle of limbs and grasping fingers; by the time harsh, broken cries of release cut the night’s stillness, all the candles had gone out – and the cell phone that lay several feet away still hadn’t rung. Told you she’d let us have this, Greg heard Nick say as though the words were coming from a great distance; he wanted to reply, but his mouth seemed to be full of cotton, so he settled for draping himself across Nick and closing his eyes while a heartbeat echoed in his ears.
*************
Greg’s notebook, October 17th - 11 a.m
Alison’s due in four days. We’re flying out to Texas this afternoon, and we’re booking into a hotel until the baby comes.
Please let this all work out.
*************
Days Inn, Fort Stockton, October 19th – 2.45 a.m
Nick scrubbed a hand across his eyes in the darkness as he woke from a fitful sleep, and as his vision cleared he could make out a familiar silhouette standing by the window. Throwing the covers back, he climbed out of bed and walked across the room to where his lover stood; he wrapped an arm round Greg from behind and held him close, feeling one of Greg’s hands resting over his wrist as the two of them looked out at the parking lot.
They’d arrived two days earlier with a suitcase full of baby paraphernalia, some of which had been given to them by the rest of the team before they’d left Vegas – including a travel crib that Warrick had handed over. “You’ll need it when you get her out of the hospital,” he’d said with his customary pragmatism. “Don’t let the hotel loan you one, man, you know some of the scenes we’ve worked at hotels…” but Nick had laughed and cut him off with a wave of his hand.
Most of the previous day had been spent with Alison; they’d started out by taking her out for breakfast, where she’d eaten a huge plate of food and then polished off the pancakes Greg hadn’t been able to finish.
And now all they could do was wait.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Greg said, leaning his head back against Nick’s shoulder. “Didn’t want to wake you,” and a long silence followed; when Greg eventually spoke again, the words were barely audible, but the emotion in them made Nick’s throat tighten until he could hardly breathe.
“I want this,” Greg murmured. “I want it so much, Nicky, and if she says -” and his voice dropped to a cracked whisper. “If she says we can’t have her…”
“We’ve got to believe she won’t do that,” Nick managed to say, his eyes smarting with tears, and he lowered his head to press his lips against Greg’s bare shoulder. “But if she does -” and there was an audible sniff from Greg that tore at Nick’s heart “– if she does, then we’ll get through it. We will,” he said, with all the conviction he could muster. “You want something to drink? Coke? There’s a machine down on the next floor.”
“Yeah,” Greg said. “Please,” and he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“Don’t be,” Nick said, stepping in front of Greg and placing a hand against one side of his face. “We’ll be fine,” and he kissed Greg lightly on the mouth before moving to the nearby chair where he’d left his jeans; he put them on over the boxer shorts he’d worn to go to sleep, and he checked the back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll be right back,” he said, managing to keep his voice even, and he left the room.
Down on the next landing, it took Nick three attempts to get his money into the vending machine and extract two cans of Coke. Leaning against the wall, he popped the tab on one of the cans and drank deeply before closing his eyes against the tears that still threatened.
He recalled the year, seemingly so long ago now, when the two of them had spent Christmas at the ranch in Dallas for the second time. Greg had been at the centre of a group of Nick’s nieces and nephews for the whole of Christmas Eve - holding them enthralled with some of his more printable anecdotes from work, lifting the smaller children up to place ornaments near the top of the Christmas tree, grinning good-naturedly at the cries of “But I want Greg to read to me!” when bedtime finally came. It had been much later that evening, when everyone else was asleep, that Nick had finally managed to get Greg alone. “What do you think about having some of our own?” he’d asked, his heart in his throat, because he’d never thought he’d care about anyone enough to ask them this – and when he’d seen the way Greg’s face lit up, he’d had his answer.
God, please, Nick thought now, as he turned and headed for the stairs. If this goes wrong, it’s going to kill him…
“Nick! Nick!” and he looked up to see Greg leaning down over the stair railing, not seeming to care that he was wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts and was shouting loudly enough to wake the dead. “Her water just broke -”
*************
Pecos County Memorial Hospital, Fort Stockton – 6.45 a.m
“Okay, Alison, the next time you feel a contraction coming I want you to push really hard,” the doctor said, looking up from the foot of the bed. “One or two more, and you’ve done it.”
“I can’t do it.”
“You can,” Nick said softly, reaching for the washcloth with his free hand and pressing it against Alison’s forehead. “You’re doing fine,” but his heart ached as he looked at her sweat-beaded face. We’ll stick with our kids, he’d told Greg when they’d first made their decision to have a family. No matter how badly they screw up. If there was ever a time when someone needed their family, it was now, and how could Alison’s parents not want to help her through this?
“God, I want this out of me,” Alison whimpered, and she renewed her grip on Nick’s hand with enough strength to make bones grind together beneath the skin; her face turned crimson with effort, and a moan was forced out through gritted teeth.
What happened next seemed to stretch out into hours, although in reality it took less than two minutes.
“Nicky! I can see the head!” - and when Nick looked down to the foot of the bed Greg was standing next to the doctor, his face drained of all colour and his eyes brimming with tears.
“Come on, Alison, one more – you’re nearly there, sweetheart,” the doctor urged. “One more…”
“I - can’t,” Alison managed to say, but her hand tightened on Nick’s again – squeezing so hard that by the following day he would barely be able to move it – and a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a scream escaped her lips.
“That’s it, you’ve done it!”
“Oh my god, Nicky, look…”
A wail broke the sudden silence, slicing into the core of Nick’s heart, and he blinked away tears as the doctor held up a tiny, blood-streaked form.
“Here she is, Mr. Stokes – are you going to cut the cord?”
“Yes, he is,” Alison said, finally letting go of Nick’s hand and managing to smile as her head fell back against the pillows – and when Nick forced himself to move, the first thing he did was to lean over her and press his lips to her flushed, perspiring forehead.
“Thank you,” he said in a shaky voice, and he felt her arms wind themselves tightly round his neck – and as the baby continued to cry, nobody else heard the words that were whispered in Nick’s ear.
“You look after her, you hear?”
**********
7.30 a.m.
“How is she?”
“She’s asleep,” Greg said as he joined Nick on the two-seater couch in the room down the hall from the delivery suite, and he grinned as he looked down at Nick’s right hand. “How’s that hand now?”
“I might get some feeling back in about a week,” Nick said ruefully, adjusting the ice pack that he’d been given – and before either of them could say anything else, the door swung open to admit a nurse wheeling a Perspex cradle.
“Is she all right?” were the first words out of Greg’s mouth, and a lump rose in his throat as he thought of what his father had told him so long ago.
“You’ll understand when you’re a dad, because you’ll worry even when you know you’re nuts to do it.”
“She’s absolutely fine, Greg,” was the answer. “She’s going to need feeding, would you like to do it?” and a warm smile spread across the nurse’s face. “I don’t think Nick’s quite got the use of that hand back yet, do you?” and Greg supposed that he must have managed to say something in response – because moments later, the nurse was leaning over him and placing the bundle in the crook of his right arm. “I’ll just go and get her bottle,” the nurse said, the words sounding as though they were coming from a great distance; the door opened and then closed again, and for the first time the three of them were alone.
Infinitely slowly, afraid he would drop her at any moment, Greg opened the blanket and looked at the little figure in the yellow sleeper. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists, her rosebud mouth gently pursed; she had almost impossibly long eyelashes, and the thickest shock of hair Greg had ever seen on a baby.
Our daughter.
Ours.
“Nick?” he managed to say faintly. “Nicky?”
“Right here,” and when an arm snaked around Greg’s shoulders he leaned carefully against Nick’s side. “Look at her, G,” Nick said, the soft wonder in his voice making something tighten in Greg’s chest. “Look at her,” and Greg’s world shrank until nothing registered except for Nick’s arm round him and the warm weight in the crook of his arm.
“Hei,” he whispered, tracing a fingertip down the velvet softness of his daughter’s face and knowing that even though she was less than an hour old he was already prepared to die for her. “Hei, kjaere.”
*********
December 12th
Dear Nick, Greg and Emily –
Hope you guys are well – how’s the weather out there in Vegas?
We’ve been living in Louisiana for nearly six weeks, and things are starting to go really well for us. I’m back at college, learning to be a beautician – I figured people are always gonna need their nails and their eyebrows done, right? Cassie’s settling down in school – she wasn’t too sure at first, but she’s made a few friends already, and I know she feels better about being able to have them come and play in a house with a real back yard instead of where we were living before.
We’re not going to be living with my aunt and uncle for ever – I’m looking for a part time job that fits in with my college hours, and once I do that we’re going to rent a little place of our own. It was kind of scary when we first moved here, but I’m glad we did, because this way I get to start over and really make things better for me and Cassie.
Hope you have a great Christmas – are you going to California or Dallas? I keep thinking of Emily with all those cousins fussing over her.
Take good care of each other, and I hope we’ll hear from you soon.
Love from Alison and Cassie xxx.
December 18th
Dear Alison –
It was so good to get your letter yesterday. It’s great that you guys are settling in where you are now – and Louisiana isn’t that far from Texas! We’re spending Christmas with Nick’s folks, so let us know if you’d like to meet up. I know you said you weren’t ready to do that, but if you change your mind we’ll work something out. We fly out on Christmas Eve, and you’ve got our cell numbers if you want to call, okay?
We’ve put some pictures of us in with this letter so you can see how big Emily’s gotten already! Most of them are from a birthday party we went to last week for someone we work with (remember we told you about Catherine?) – we had to make sure Emily was still in the baby carrier when we left, because a whole bunch of people looked like they wanted to take her home with them. Never mind all her cousins, she’s got a lot of honorary aunts and uncles now!
We can’t begin to tell you how much things have changed since we brought Emily back to Vegas with us. We haven’t slept a whole night yet, we’ve just about managed to figure out how to wash baby clothes without shrinking them – but we’re so happy we still can’t believe it. There isn’t any way we can ever thank you enough for what you did for us, but we’re going to keep doing it anyway.
Happy Christmas to you both, and all the love in the world –
Nick, Greg and Emily xxx
Dallas – Christmas Eve
“How is she?”
“Still asleep,” Greg said in mild astonishment, once he’d craned his neck round to the back seat of the rental car. “You know what? I think I’ve figured it out,” and he grinned at Nick. “We just have to set up a schedule where one of us drives her round in the car all the time.”
“She’ll sleep through soon,” Nick told him as he guided the car up his parents’ driveway. “The paediatrician said so, remember?” and the tone of his voice implied that he wanted to believe this would happen, but didn’t have much faith that it would. He brought the car to a halt and laid his hand on the horn, a smile curving his lips when the front door opened. “Hi, mom!” he called out as he opened the driver’s side door and climbed out, and moments later he and his mother had their arms wrapped round each other.
“How’s that gorgeous granddaughter of mine?”
“Well, we figured we’d leave her behind,” Nick said with a grin as he glanced back over his shoulder at Greg, who was occupied with unfastening the straps securing the child seat; he was muttering in Norwegian under his breath as he did so, because this was the one aspect of having a child that still presented him with problems. “You know, give her the run of the place…”
“You always did have a smart mouth, Nick,” his mother said fondly, and then her eyes lit up as she saw Greg approaching from the passenger side of the car, holding the seat by its handle. “There she is – hello, darling,” she cooed as she bent down to look at the sleeping figure. “Have you been a good girl?”
“She slept all the way from the airport,” Greg said. “Hi, Jillian,” and he kissed Nick’s mother on both cheeks when she stood upright again. “Are we the first ones here?”
“Only by a little while,” was the answer. “Meg and Russ and the boys are half an hour away, they called a little while ago – come on in, I just made a pot of coffee.”
“You want to grab her bag, Nick?”
“I got it,” Nick replied, reaching into the car and grasping the diaper bag that lay on the back seat; as he moved to follow his mother and Greg, he glanced up at the darkening sky and smiled. Her first Christmas, he thought, and the thought was still warming his heart as he made his way up onto the porch and into the house where he’d grown up.
He could see the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, its tip almost touching the ceiling; boxes which he knew contained the decorations were stacked nearby, and the same anticipation that had always gripped him as a child wound itself around him now.
A fretful wail echoed nearby, and it was immediately followed by Greg murmuring soothingly in Norwegian; Nick remained where he was, his ears picking up a quiet exchange of conversation between his mother and Greg in the kitchen and the soft whistling of the kettle. Once again, the idea that this was his family – his own family – seized him unawares, coiling round his heart and finding a place at its centre.
“Mom, where’s dad?” he called out. “Don’t tell me he’s out this late.”
“He’s right here,” came the response from the living room before Nick’s mother could answer the question, and Nick watched his father lever himself out of the chair near the fireplace. “You caught me napping,” and Bill Stokes crossed the room to join his youngest son. He moved slowly, his slightly hesitant gait clear evidence of the arthritis that was plaguing him more and more of late – but when he drew level with Nick, he hugged him with his habitual fierceness.
“Good to see you, Pancho.”
“You too, Cisco,” Nick said, a smile appearing on his face as his father’s gaze was directed towards the kitchen. “Greg, you want to bring her out here?” he called out. “I think her grandpa would like to feed her.”
*********
“Greg, lift me up! I can’t reach!”
“All right, Alex,” Greg said good-humouredly; he hoisted the five-year-old onto his shoulders before moving closer to the Christmas tree, and he waited until the Snoopy ornament had been hung from one of the branches. “You’re just about too big for me to lift now, kiddo, you know that?”
“Are we still gonna be buddies?” Alex asked once he’d been set down on the floor, and his face was pinched with anxiety. “Nathan said now you’ve got your own kid you won’t want to hang out with me any more when you come up here.”
“Your big brother’s a smartass,” Greg whispered in the little boy’s ear, and there was a giggle in response. “You know what? Once I make a friend, they stay my friend, all right?” he went on, and he glanced across the room to where Nick’s sister was holding Emily. “You want to hold her?”
“I can’t,” Alex said, although the look on his face seemed to say he wanted to. “I’ll drop her.”
“No you won’t,” Greg said matter-of-factly, taking Alex by the hand. “Come on,” and he led the way across the room. “You sit right in the big chair,” and he leaned down to scoop Emily from her aunt’s arms. “Now, put your arms together – yeah, like that,” he said, and he lowered his daughter carefully onto Alex’s lap. “You’ve got to make sure her head stays on your arm, because she’s not very strong yet,” and Greg knelt next to the chair as Alex looked at his new cousin in fascination. Somebody’s camera flashed, but the little boy didn’t appear to notice – and then finally, after a long, rapt silence, he lifted his head and looked at Greg.
“How’d she get in her mom’s stomach?” he said. “I asked mom how I got in hers, and she said she’d tell me later.”
“Oh no,” Greg said, as he saw Nick’s sister muffle a giggle. “I’m not having that talk until she’s old enough,” and he nodded towards Emily. “You and Russ are on your own with this one, Meg,” he said, and as he joined in the good-natured laughter that followed he let his mind go back to the Christmas two years since – when Nick had found him out on the front porch of the ranch, gazing up at the stars because he couldn’t sleep, and had asked him what he thought about having children of their own. He’d nodded in response, because he’d been rendered speechless, but at the same time he’d felt another piece of the life he wanted for himself dropping into place…and now, drawn even further into Nick’s family, he felt exactly the same way.
**********
1.20 a.m, Christmas Day
The excited children had finally been shoehorned into their sleeping bags in the guest bedroom they were sharing; the adults had remained up for several more hours, retrieving gifts from assorted hiding places to place them beneath the now-decorated tree and then talking over glasses of Jillian’s home made egg nog. Emily was passed around and fussed over, particularly by the few people who hadn’t been able to make it to Vegas for the party Nick and Greg had thrown once the adoption was final – and it was only when she had started to get fretful that the gathering in the living room had broken up.
The room they’d been given had been Nick’s when he’d lived at the ranch; striped wallpaper had been replaced by cream paint, the single bed by a double that always seemed to sag in the middle – and for now, with Greg lying behind him and Emily snoring gently in the travel crib less than two feet from the bed, this was Nick’s world.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Nick whispered into the darkness, but a hand rested on his shoulder in the near-darkness and squeezed gently.
“Nicky?”
“Dad just looks so tired,” Nick said softly. “I never really noticed it that much before,” and he let out a shaky sigh. “His arthritis is worse, did you see?”
“He’s getting old,” Greg said, running his hand slowly down Nick’s arm. There would have been times when he might have grinned and followed this remark with something along the lines of it’ll happen to you one day, but he sensed that this was not one of those times – so he settled for holding Nick tightly without saying anything else for a long time.
“Sorry,” Nick said eventually, when Greg had just begun to think he might be asleep. “It’s Christmas - we’re supposed to be happy, right?”
“We’re not supposed to be anything,” Greg replied, pressing Nick back against the pillows. “You love your dad and you’re worried, you can’t help that,” he went on as he looked down at Nick, whose face was barely visible in the dim glow of Emily’s night light. “Bullshit the rest of them round the dinner table later, but tell me what you really think, okay?” and when the question was met with a silent nod, Greg leaned down and kissed Nick on the mouth. Nick lifted his head to respond, the fingers of one hand tangling gently in Greg’s hair; when the kiss eventually broke, Nick almost felt rather than heard the love you which was murmured against his lips before he was drawn into the familiar warmth of Greg’s arms. He let his head find its familiar resting place in the spot where Greg’s neck met his right shoulder, and he closed his eyes; lulled by the combined breathing of his lover and their daughter, he drifted into sleep – and it would only be when they woke to the excited chatter of the older children seven hours later that Nick and Greg realised that Emily had finally slept through the night.
*********
December 27th, 8.45 a.m
“How come Uncle Nick and Greg have to go so early?”
“’Cause we have to go back to work, that’s how come,” Greg said as he fastened the child seat into the back of the car. “Don’t pout like that, kiddo, it won’t be long before we see you again.”
“Bet it’ll be Easter,” Alex said gloomily. “That’s a long time.”
“Well, how about if I write to you? Send you a postcard?”
“G, we need to get out of here,” Nick said. “We’ll miss our plane.”
“He’s bossy, isn’t he?” Greg stage-whispered, reaching down to ruffle Alex’s hair. “I will write you, I promise,” and he hugged the little boy before climbing into the driver’s seat and closing the door.
“Now, you three travel safely,” Nick’s mother said, “and you’ll call me when you make it home, won’t you?”
“We always do,” Nick said with a smile as he stood next to the car, and then his dark eyes took on an anxious expression. “Mom, do me a favour, would you?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“See if you can get dad to the doctor,” Nick told her. “I’m just…”
“…fussing over nothing, the same way your mother is,” a voice said behind them - and when Nick turned round his father was several feet away, dusting his hands on the faded brown pants he always wore to go to the stables and tend to the horses. “All he’ll do is prescribe me a lot of things I don’t need, Pancho – I’m an old man, that’s all that’s wrong with me.”
“Dad -”
“You mind me, now,” was the response, but his father’s eyes were twinkling as he stepped closer. “I could still beat you if we were racing two of the horses, and you know it,” and Nick was enveloped in a hug; he returned the gesture, the scrape of an unshaven cheek against his own along with the familiar scent of his father’s cologne imprinting themselves on his subconscious and bringing inexplicable tears to his eyes.
“You look after that baby,” his father told him, and Nick heard himself say that of course he would. He watched his father walk around to the other side of the car to shake Greg’s hand, making the ritual of farewells complete, and then Nick got into the passenger seat.
Moments later, the car’s engine thrummed into life and they headed down the driveway; from the passenger seat, Nick craned his neck and stared back in the direction from which they’d come. His parents still stood on the front porch next to his sister and her youngest son, all four of them waving – and Nick kept his eyes on them until they became too small to make out in the distance.
*******
Las Vegas, February 14th – 6.45 p.m
“Hey,” Greg said softly as he knelt next to the bathtub with one arm braced carefully round his daughter. “You like that? You do, don’t you?” He lifted a red plastic cup filled with water and let it trickle slowly onto Emily’s stomach, provoking a squeal of delight. “I think you’re going to be a swimmer when you’re bigger,” he told her. “Yes, I do,” and he lifted her slowly out of the water before wrapping her in the towel that had been draped over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you all dry and comfy, shall we?” he said, and once he’d pulled the plug out of the bathtub drain he rose to his feet; cradling Emily against his chest, he left the bathroom, and a handful of steps brought them into the nursery.
“It’s nearly bedtime, sweet pea,” he said as he dried her carefully and set about putting a new diaper on her almost without thinking about it. “We’ll get you all dressed and then you can have a drink, how about that?” He was instantly rewarded with a waving of chubby hands and a toothless grin – and it didn’t matter that there’d been thousands of smiles like this now, it still hit him straight in the heart the way it had done the very first time it had happened.
A minute or two later he was closing the last snap on Emily’s Minnie Mouse sleeper, and as he scooped her up in one arm before heading to the kitchen he reflected that in the beginning things hadn’t been this easy. Never mind all the practice he’d had on other peoples’ babies, never mind what the nurses at the hospital had taught them both - doing it on your own was completely different.
During the first few days they’d had Emily at home, he’d been in such awe of this tiny person that he’d been afraid he would hurt her if he did anything other than hold her; he’d deferred to Nick at bath time, not because he’d really wanted to, but because he’d been scared he was going to drop Emily and because Nick had made it look so easy.
“No you don’t,” Nick had said on their fifth night back in Vegas, when Greg had once again offered to go and “take care of things in the kitchen” once bedtime had come around. “The bottle’s made up, the dishes are going to wait – get your ass back over here,” but despite the smile, the expression in Nick’s eyes had said that he understood. “She isn’t going to drown, you’re not going to drop her,” he’d told Greg while he’d tested the temperature of the water in the baby bath they’d used when Emily had first come home. “She knows we aren’t going to hurt her – see? Put your hand behind her head, just like they showed us -” Nick had been kind and he’d been patient, the way he’d always been over everything else, and it hadn’t taken long for Greg’s apprehension to disappear – and now, as he stood in the kitchen waiting for the bottle to warm up, he could hardly remember a time when it hadn’t felt as though he’d known what to do.
“Here we go,” he said, removing the bottle from the jug of hot water and testing it on his inner wrist to the accompaniment of agitated cries. “I know, I know,” he continued soothingly. “Let’s go,” and he headed back along the hallway.
******
“That’s better,” he murmured, almost under his breath, as he settled into the chair and guided the bottle towards Emily’s mouth. She grasped it with both hands, and seconds later the only sounds in the room were the creaking of the chair and the soft smacking of lips. Looking down at her face, the blue-grey eyes already beginning to close with the onset of sleep, Greg felt his throat tighten until he was hardly able to breathe; he’d never imagined that it would be possible to have the same feelings for someone else that he had for Nick, a love so fierce and consuming that it hurt – but the past four months had taught him otherwise.
He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat, the sound making Emily’s eyes open wide again for a second or two, and he smiled down at her before he began to sing.
“Bæ bæ lille lam
Har du noe ull?
Ja ja kjære barn,
jeg har kroppen full.
Søndagsklær til far,
og søndagsklær til mor,
og to par strømper til bitte lille bror.”
Greg sat still for a long time once the song was finished, and then he rose carefully to his feet with the warm, limp body of his sleeping daughter cradled in one arm. Setting the empty bottle on the dresser, he lowered Emily into the crib and covered her with a blanket; and once this was done, he leaned down to run a hand gently over her hair.
“You’re the best little girl in the world,” he said in a hushed whisper, even though Emily was asleep, because he never put her to bed at night without telling her this. “I love you so much…Nicky loves you…and we’ll see you in the morning,” and he kissed her forehead before picking up the bottle again and tiptoeing from the room.
He’d barely finished tidying the kitchen when there was the sound of a key turning in the front door, and he found himself smiling again. He turned towards the kitchen doorway, and Nick was standing there with a bunch of dark red roses in one hand and a warm smile on his lips.
“Didn’t think I’d forget what day it was, did you?” he said, crossing the kitchen and handing the flowers over. “Emily said I should get you these.”
“Well, she told me,” Greg said as he set the flowers down on the nearby table and wrapped his arms round Nick’s waist, “that I had to make you dinner, run you a bath and make you come so hard you wouldn’t know what day it was.”
“She did?” Nick said, his lips touching Greg’s ear as he spoke; a hand curved round Greg’s hip and squeezed, pulling them even closer together, and all at once every fibre of Greg’s being went taut with need. “In that order?”
“She wasn’t real specific,” Greg said, his voice slightly unsteady. “She - god,” and he bit back a moan as a hand stole to his crotch and rested there. “Please, Nicky,” he breathed, because all he could think of was three months three weeks and we haven’t; a low, dirty chuckle vibrated against the side of his neck, rendering him so hard he thought he would explode.
Nick’s other hand moved to the back of Greg’s head, fingers winding in his hair and pulling hard; they looked at each other for a split second before their mouths collided, teeth mashing against lips and tongues twisting like snakes – and when the phone rang, it was hardly audible over the roaring in Greg’s ears.
“Leave it,” Nick gasped, his eyes heavy-lidded and the pupils already half blown. “Come on,” and the two of them stumbled along the hallway past the room where their daughter slept.
*********
“G.”
“Mm,” Greg muttered against Nick’s chest; he didn’t know what time it was, but there was no light coming through the blinds now, and he was so wrung out that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move for at least three days.
“What’s for dinner?”
“You’re holding me to that?”
“Emily said you had to, remember?” Nick replied. “Or was that just a trick to get me into bed?”
“Didn’t think I needed one,” Greg answered smartly, rolling away to dodge the swat directed at his butt. “I got steak, will that do?”
“It’ll do fine,” Nick said. “Come here,” and he propped himself up on his side to allow their lips to meet. The kiss was slow, lingering, drained of its previous urgency, and when they broke apart there was a dazed, sappy smile on Nick’s face. “I love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do,” Greg said, and he levered himself out of bed with a groan. He crossed the room, grabbed a robe from the back of the door and headed for the kitchen – and as he set about fixing dinner, he was pretty sure that the smile that had been on Nick’s face was on his own too.
**********
“Nick!” Greg called out, once he’d slid each of the steaks onto a plate and set them on the table, “it’s ready!” but there was no answer, and he grinned. Putting some salad next to each of the steaks, he added a knife and fork to each plate before picking them up and heading out of the kitchen.
Thought you might like to eat this in bed was what he’d been planning to say, but the words dried up before he could give them voice.
Nick sat on the edge of the bed, the phone still clutched in his hands. He was staring at the floor between his knees, and there wasn’t a drop of colour in his face; he didn’t react when Greg finally managed to say his name, and it was only when Greg set the plates on the end of the bed and knelt in front of him that he looked up.
“He told mom he’d go to the doctor just so we’d all quit nagging him,” Nick said, and his voice was hollow and drained of all emotion. “The guy took a blood test, said he was probably anaemic and that was all, and next thing they know he’s calling dad back in for some more tests.” He broke off, swallowing hard, and Greg felt apprehension creeping through his veins. “He asked them both to go into his office today, and it – he’s got cancer,” and the helpless, trapped expression in Nick’s eyes spoke of some hidden emotion struggling to get out. “The main growth’s in his liver, but it’s spread to his stomach and his kidneys, and they don’t think he’ll make it to Thanksgiving,” Nick said, and as the two of them stared at each other they heard Emily begin to cry in the room next door.
Conclusion coming soon.
AN: The song Greg sings to his daughter translates as –
Baa baa little lamb
Have you any wool
Yes, yes, dear child
My body's full
Sunday's trousers for the father
Sunday's trousers for the mother
And a pair of socks for the wee little brother.
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Date: 2007-11-19 10:43 pm (UTC)Nick and Greg being Daddy's make me all mushy inside. I love it.
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Date: 2007-11-20 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-20 04:10 pm (UTC)I'll be waiting anxiously for the concluding chapter. I guess I should keep the Kleenex handy, huh?
Wonderful installment, dear. I hearts it.
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Date: 2007-11-20 04:46 pm (UTC)And I hearts that icon of yours, by the way. *wipes drool*
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Date: 2007-11-21 07:38 pm (UTC)Hee! It was made by
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Date: 2007-11-21 02:32 am (UTC)cant wait for part three :]
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Date: 2007-11-21 06:20 am (UTC)(and I like that icon, btw)