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May. 5th, 2005 09:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
greenpeababy.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: Toothpaste & Peanutbutter
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
greenpeababy
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick wakes up with a hangover in Greg's bed.
A/N: This really lacks much of a plot-- I'm just trying to get used to writing that isn't in the form of roleplay or drabble. <3;
Nick knew his head hurt; he could feel a soft throb beginning behind his eyes, pulsing with his heartbeat and a pain that would probably demand his attention quickly enough, but he was dimly set on falling back into sweet, heavy unconsciousness before the pain really had a chance to register.
His pillow smelled like peanut butter. It was also, under slitted-eye scrutiny, green. He wasn't particularly fond of peanut butter and didn't own a single green pillow, and it was that damn CSI curiosity that forced him to flip over onto his side and squint his eyes open.
Greg's apartment. Greg's bed, to be more precise, and Nick's legs were tangled in the sheets (socks and pants and boots and one very much unbuckled belt), but he was also alone.
And how does someone end up hung-over in Greg Sanders' bed? .. fully clothed?
He tasted the soured alcohol on his own breath as he untangled his legs from the sheets and stood up straight, lifting a hand to the bridge of his nose as if he could soothe the headache away. He'd had worse.
Very easily, I guess.
Nick paused only to lean down and pull up a sock that had been clinging low to an ankle, a feat for him in his wobbly state, going only as far as the hallway before he braced his left hand on the doorframe to the bedroom, scowling tiredly at the light squeaking in from under the bathroom door. With all the grace and ferocity of an inebriated bearcub, he nudged the door open, only to be confronted with Greg.
A toothbrush was dangling between his lips; he had both hands propped on the porcelain sink, leaning over it and dangerouly close to the mirror, apparently checking something on his nose.
"Ahem."
The lab rat jumped, startled, slipping back on the bathroom tile and whirling to stare, wide-eyed at the Texan who struck an imposing, if mildly comic figure, his arms held out awkwardly to his sides and his clothes morbidly rumpled.
Nick was somewhere between smirking at Greg and grunting a plea for aspirin. The first impulse came from the fact that Greg was dressed in nothing but a too-long white shirt and boxers that clung loosely to his narrow hips (ones that Nick suspected Greg had filched from him-- he'd call him on it later, of course, but there were more important matters to attend to).
"What the hell happened last night?" As far as he could tell, Greg was suffering from no hangover signs. As bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as a damn flying squirrel, and he had to quell the urge to ask for aspirin again.
Greg lifted his hand to his mouth, grabbing the handle of the toothbrush and pointing it accusingly at Nick. "Well, we didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking," he said, sounding almost disappointed before he winced and spat the toothpaste into the sink as it began to dribble down his chin. He shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth, gesturing at Nick's loose belt buckle. "You fell asleep on me."
Nick's head angled slightly to the side, his eyebrows furrowing slowly as if he had to struggle to understand what Greg was saying. "Oh," he answered carefully, then repeated himself, as if the art of conversation was beyond his grasp at the moment.
Which was entirely possible, Greg decided as he carefully watched Nick amble toward him, one eyebrow quirked in distantly amused curiosity. The toothbrush was pulled out of his mouth as the Texan leaned over to kiss him, wincing at the sharp mint of the toothpaste. He dropped the brush into the cup next to the faucet and stood up, squinting his eyes again.
"Make it up to you later. Going back to bed. See you in four hours." The CSI turned and exited in the same fashion that he had entered, and Greg decided as he cupped water from the tap to his mouth that Nick would be making it up to him a lot sooner than that.
Author:
greenpeababyRating: PG
Summary: Nick wakes up with a hangover in Greg's bed.
A/N: This really lacks much of a plot-- I'm just trying to get used to writing that isn't in the form of roleplay or drabble. <3;
Nick knew his head hurt; he could feel a soft throb beginning behind his eyes, pulsing with his heartbeat and a pain that would probably demand his attention quickly enough, but he was dimly set on falling back into sweet, heavy unconsciousness before the pain really had a chance to register.
His pillow smelled like peanut butter. It was also, under slitted-eye scrutiny, green. He wasn't particularly fond of peanut butter and didn't own a single green pillow, and it was that damn CSI curiosity that forced him to flip over onto his side and squint his eyes open.
Greg's apartment. Greg's bed, to be more precise, and Nick's legs were tangled in the sheets (socks and pants and boots and one very much unbuckled belt), but he was also alone.
And how does someone end up hung-over in Greg Sanders' bed? .. fully clothed?
He tasted the soured alcohol on his own breath as he untangled his legs from the sheets and stood up straight, lifting a hand to the bridge of his nose as if he could soothe the headache away. He'd had worse.
Very easily, I guess.
Nick paused only to lean down and pull up a sock that had been clinging low to an ankle, a feat for him in his wobbly state, going only as far as the hallway before he braced his left hand on the doorframe to the bedroom, scowling tiredly at the light squeaking in from under the bathroom door. With all the grace and ferocity of an inebriated bearcub, he nudged the door open, only to be confronted with Greg.
A toothbrush was dangling between his lips; he had both hands propped on the porcelain sink, leaning over it and dangerouly close to the mirror, apparently checking something on his nose.
"Ahem."
The lab rat jumped, startled, slipping back on the bathroom tile and whirling to stare, wide-eyed at the Texan who struck an imposing, if mildly comic figure, his arms held out awkwardly to his sides and his clothes morbidly rumpled.
Nick was somewhere between smirking at Greg and grunting a plea for aspirin. The first impulse came from the fact that Greg was dressed in nothing but a too-long white shirt and boxers that clung loosely to his narrow hips (ones that Nick suspected Greg had filched from him-- he'd call him on it later, of course, but there were more important matters to attend to).
"What the hell happened last night?" As far as he could tell, Greg was suffering from no hangover signs. As bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as a damn flying squirrel, and he had to quell the urge to ask for aspirin again.
Greg lifted his hand to his mouth, grabbing the handle of the toothbrush and pointing it accusingly at Nick. "Well, we didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking," he said, sounding almost disappointed before he winced and spat the toothpaste into the sink as it began to dribble down his chin. He shoved the toothbrush back into his mouth, gesturing at Nick's loose belt buckle. "You fell asleep on me."
Nick's head angled slightly to the side, his eyebrows furrowing slowly as if he had to struggle to understand what Greg was saying. "Oh," he answered carefully, then repeated himself, as if the art of conversation was beyond his grasp at the moment.
Which was entirely possible, Greg decided as he carefully watched Nick amble toward him, one eyebrow quirked in distantly amused curiosity. The toothbrush was pulled out of his mouth as the Texan leaned over to kiss him, wincing at the sharp mint of the toothpaste. He dropped the brush into the cup next to the faucet and stood up, squinting his eyes again.
"Make it up to you later. Going back to bed. See you in four hours." The CSI turned and exited in the same fashion that he had entered, and Greg decided as he cupped water from the tap to his mouth that Nick would be making it up to him a lot sooner than that.
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no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 07:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 11:47 am (UTC)Hehe.
Also: funny.
Hahahahahaha...
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 05:10 pm (UTC)X
no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 02:40 am (UTC)Kinky sex games, of course.
Actually, I have no idea. =)
no subject
Date: 2005-05-08 03:58 pm (UTC)