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[jettblack0110.livejournal.com]

 Title: Domestic Chores
Chapter: 6/12
Author: jettblack0110
Rating: PG
Warnings: Language
Summary: It's time for Halloween!

 

“There…right there.”

“Right here.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the spot.”

“You like it here, G?”

“It’s perfect. So good.”

“Good, then hand me the hammer.” Nick looked down on his young lover from his perch on the step ladder. A bead of sweat seeped out his hairline and rolled down his temple, hovering on the curve of his cheek. It was another hot day, in true Vegas style. Greg thought about how attractive his boyfriend was, even when he had sweat stains on his shirt and was missing a toenail. His eyes falling on the bandaged toe, Greg felt his cheeks redden as he thought about the circumstances under which Nick’s toenail was sacrificed.

“A hammer?” Greg asked, not meeting Nick’s eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t think a thumbtack will hold this,” Nick said, shaking a black-cloaked ghoul decoration he was currently hanging near their front door. Halloween was in a week, and Greg had gone all out with decorating the house for its first official holiday. The ghoul was just a fraction of the decorations Greg had spent his paycheck on; he had severed hands, severed heads, fake cobwebs, rubber spiders, a scarecrow, a fog machine, eerie music, and something that topped even those: Greg had had Doc Robbins get in touch with the funeral home which got him in touch with the cemetery mason who gave him a decent deal on several damaged headstones. Yes. Greg had gotten his hands on some bona fide gravestones, and they were now staking a claim in the StokesSanders front yard. They had also claimed Nick’s toenail.

When they were unloading the headstones, a loose chip of stone embedded itself in Greg’s palm. He instinctively let go the corner of the headstone he was holding, and that same corner saw it fit to land directly on Nick’s bare foot, tearing the toenail clean off.

“Quit looking at it, G,” Nick growled, “It’s not getting any better from your stare alone.” Greg started and realized he was staring at the toe in question. Nick had finished hanging their ghoul and was now carefully stepping off the ladder.

“I’m sorry again about, you know…” he trailed off, gesturing toward Nick’s foot.

“It’s okay,” Nick said, “You owe me, though.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I can think of a few things.” Nick’s eyebrows drew slightly together as he smiled slyly and looked at Greg with hooded eyes. Greg could not help but let the smile run rampant across his face.

“Are you using me for sex, Stokes?” He tried to sound angry or surprised. Anything but gleeful.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

“Let’s find out now.” Greg tugged on Nick’s t-shirt and pressed their lips together. He heard a loud clunk, signifying the hammer hitting the ground after Nick dropped it. Then Nick’s hand slid down Greg’s back, cupping his backside protectively. As if he would run. Greg had his arms wrapped around Nick’s neck as they lazily kissed on their front porch. It was oddly liberating, even more so than coming out to the team. The fact that they could make out in front of the world was akin to a head rush for Greg. It made him giddy. That and the fact that Nick was now kneading where he had placed his hand earlier. Greg sighed despite the fact that his lips were still against Nick’s. He slid his hand down Nick’s chest and stomach, snaking it under the hem of the damp shirt. He went back upwards until his fingers found their goal. With a little caress and tweak, he had Nick panting.

“Baby, not now. Cath’s party is in half an hour.” Leave it to the damn team to ruin their fun. Greg pulled his hand from under Nick’s shirt and pulled his lips away.

“We could be fashionably late,” he said as he walked inside.

“If I know you, Greg, what would make us fashionably late would most likely leave you too exhausted to do anything.”

“Just because I like to sleep after you fuck me doesn’t mean I couldn’t go to a party.”

“G, you slept through the fire alarm that one time when you still lived in your apartment. I had to carry you out.” Nick was hit between the eyes with a candy bar. “You did not just throw our Halloween candy at me.” Another one landed square on his chest before bouncing to the floor. “I can’t believe you’re throwing candy at me.” He lifted the step ladder to shield himself as four or five candy bars came hurtling in his direction; every one found its way through the ladder’s gaps and hit Nick. “Oh that’s it, you’re dead, Sanders.” Greg took off running.

Nick flew after him, picking up a pillow off the couch as he passed. He heard a resound thump in front of him as Greg slammed into a wall as he rounded a corner. His stockinged feet had little traction on the hardwood floors of their house. Nick’s bare toes, minus the one, gripped the floor admirably and he gained on Greg with every step. They had made it to their bedroom when Nick launched himself, tackling Greg onto the bed. After a few minutes of tickling and rough housing, they ended up kissing, Nick lying atop Greg.

“Get off of me, you oaf. I can’t breathe.”

“Good. That’ll teach you to throw our candy.” Our. The word sounded so good to Nick. Tasted so good. “We should get ready for Cath’s party.”

“What are you going as?”

“Going as?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s a costume party, Nicky.” Nick’s open mouth revealed just how much he knew about Catherine’s get-together. “It’s okay, Nicky, I got a costume for you anyway.”

“Oh no. What exactly did you get? I could just wear my hat and my boots and—“

“No! No, you aren’t going as a cowboy. What are you, the king of clichés? You just wait here, and I’ll go put my costume on and bring you yours.” Nick rolled off Greg and laid on the bed, petrified of what Greg had gotten for him. He heard much rustling in the bathroom. A squeak betrayed the rusty hinge of the door as it opened. Nick looked at Greg and once again his mouth was open.

Greg was wearing jeans that hugged his body, even down to the ankles. Black skinny jeans with chains hanging every which way. He had shredded what looked like one of Nick’s black t-shirts so it looked like he had been attacked by a bear instead of wearing a shirt. He had spray-painted his hair black and swept it into his eyes, which were outlined with so much black liner that he could rival Marilyn Manson.

“I’m a goth, see?” He waggled forearms with drawn on tattoos and spiked bracelets before attaching spiked collar to his neck. “Here’s your costume, Nicky.” From behind his back came the most ridiculous pair of plaid trousers he had ever seen, paired with some pretty vintage penny loafers. “I thought you could wear these with your white polo and glasses. We would be the opposites that attract.”

“Greg, you’re lucky I love you and that you look really good with eyeliner.”

Comments

[boonesfarmgirl.livejournal.com]

I love these ficlettes. I miss the stories of Nick and Greg at home and happy and goofy!!

Chelle

[jettblack0110.livejournal.com]

I know, domestic Nick and Greg few and far between. Whenever I feel like all I'm reading is smut or angst, I write some sugary domestic fluff. I'm glad you liked it, thanks for reading :)

[wojo62.livejournal.com]

Ahhh, that was so sweet!