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nickngregTitle: i’ll show you mine (if you show me yours first)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slight religious themes, Greg has a crisis of faith and angst
Spoilers: “Stalker,” “Grave Danger” and “Play with Fire”
Summary: Then there were the Gordons and the coffin underground and fire ants and Greg’s curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair and he’s starting to think that he’s the brunt of one big cosmic joke.
A/N: While it’s not the happy fic I was going for, I think this turned out rather nicely. It’s not an angst fest which is yayful!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything; everything belongs to its respectful owner. The title comes from the song quoted below.
am i loud and clear or am i breaking up?
am i still your charm or am i just bad luck?
are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost?
i’ll show you mine if you show me yours first
let’s compare scars, i’ll tell you whose is worse
- rise against, swing life away
i.
Sometimes, Greg thinks he’s Nick’s bad luck charm.
Greg would never really peg himself as the religious type (he believes in God and Heaven and Hell, but mostly because he is scared that when he dies, nothing will happen), but his God was always the benevolent type. He believes that God would be loving and forgiving, but now he’s starting to doubt himself.
He remembers some religious fanatic saying that God punishes gay and all homosexuals go to Hell and he can’t believe that he’s beginning to think that guy was right.
Nick was fine before Greg came along. Then Greg had to go and kiss him that one time in the locker rooms and they became a “They” and Nigel Crane put a gun to Nick’s head.
At the time, Greg brushed it off as nothing, but then there was the lab explosion. Again, Greg chalked it up to bad luck.
Then there were the Gordons and the coffin underground and fire ants and Greg’s curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair and he’s starting to think that he’s the brunt of one big cosmic joke. He’s punishing us, Greg thinks. Oh, fuck, God is punishing us for being gay, what do we do, what can we do? He presses his hands to his eyes and a few tears leak between his fingers.
The scars on his back – they’re a twisted sort of message, he figures. Greg inhales shakily and tells himself he has to end this before it’s too late.
ii.
For weeks after his release from the hospital, Nick wears long-sleeved shirts. He doesn’t want the world to see his scars, doesn’t want the constant reminder of what happened hanging over his head.
He can’t help but notice Greg’s distance.
It started out small – not touching when they watched television, not sprawling over the bed when he slept, but gradually, it’s becoming more noticeable. Now, Greg hardly makes eye contact, keeps touching to a minimum and he can hardly be in the same room as Nick anymore.
Nick tries to reason it out. Maybe Greg misinterpreted “Nick needs his space”, only that’s bullshit, because Greg would know what that means. Maybe Greg needs time to think. Again, bullshit, because Greg rarely needs “time to think.” Maybe Greg was scared of him.
That thought twists Nick’s gut and makes him want to vomit. When Nick was first in the hospital, Greg was the only one who didn’t hover anxiously, asking if he was all right every two seconds, never shooting Nick looks out of the corner of his eye as if Nick were about to keel over.
Greg was the only one who treated him as if nothing had happened.
iii.
That night, Greg curls up in the fetal position, facing away from Nick. After long moments of uncomfortable silence, Greg finally says, “We have to end it.”
Nick pauses. “What are you talking about?”
“We have to end this relationship. We’re being punished for it.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick repeats.
Greg tries not cry. “God. He’s punishing us for this, Nicky. Why do you think Nigel Crane stalked you and threw you out that window? Why do you think I almost blew up? Why do you think you were buried alive? It’s because we’re not right, Nicky. The scars we have? They’re punishment for all of this. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to get any more scars. And I’m not gonna let you get them, either.”
For a long time, Nick stares at Greg’s curled-up body in stunned silence. Then he says, “Okay, then. Go.”
He doesn’t really expect Greg to crawl out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, but he does, and Nick hates him for it. He hates that Greg can just walk away from this and act like nothing ever happened. He hates that Greg is suddenly thinking like most of the kids he went to primary with.
Mostly, though, he hates himself for not stopping him.
iv.
Greg walks through the park, his hands shoved in his pockets. He spies someone on a bench, throwing bread crumbs to the birds and he sits down next to her. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey, you,” she responds. “I heard what happened with you and Nick.”
He sighs. “News travels fast, doesn’t it?”
“No. I just know everything.” She grins at him and winks. “It’s kind of hard being omniscient. You have to know everyone else’s pain and suffering.”
“You kind of already do with this job,” Greg mutters. “And you have to live with it.”
She shrugs and she’s the most beautiful woman in the world right now, wearing a flowing, white dress made out of some material he’s never seen. He’s pretty sure his type don’t get that stuff down on Earth. “You know, Greggo, God doesn’t hate you.”
He snorts. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’m all-knowing.” A beat. “And… God doesn’t hate people because of who they love, Greg. He’s just happy that you’re in love.” She fiddles with one of her silver hoop earrings and pats her hair, dark brown in a loose bun.
“Then why do Nick and I suffer so much?”
“Everyone suffers, Greg. And it’s not because of some divine hatred; it’s because we’re human.”
“You’re not,” he points out.
She smirks. “Not right now. Right now, I’m a figment of your imagination.” Then she sighs. “Why do you hide your scars?”
“Because they’re ugly. And, right now, it feels sort of like the red “A” in The Scarlet Letter.”
Her fingers lace with his. “You shouldn’t hide them, Greg. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them. They just show that you’ve been through shit and survived. Not all of us can say that we’ve been blown through a wall and lived, or that we’ve survived being underground for twenty-four hours in a coffin.”
Greg sighs. “What do I do?”
“You go to Nick and you show your scars,” she tells him firmly.
He holds her hand for a few more minutes before standing. “Thanks, Sara,” he says and kisses her on the cheek.
Sara Sidle grins her wide, gap-toothed grin and whispers, “Go get’em, Greggo.”
v.
“Nicky,” a voice whispers.
Nick groans and pulls the duvet over his head. “What do you want?” he mumbles.
“Nicky, I want to show you something.”
“Go away,” Nick moans and burrows deeper under the covers. He lets out a yelp when he feels them being yanked off the bed. “What’s going on?”
Greg sits down next to him, back to him and peels off his T-shirt. Twisting around a little, he looks Nick right in the eye. “I’ve showed you my scars. Show me yours.”
Nick blinks. “G, what’s this about?”
“I was scared, Nick, okay? Then I had this dream and I realized that the scars don’t mean anything. They aren’t punishment – they’re just… They’re just a reminder of what happened.”
Slowly, Nick nods. “Right.”
“Because I used to think that the scars were a punishment for you and me. And they aren’t. It felt like in The Scarlet Letter when she had to wear that ‘A’ on all her clothes, only we could hide these ‘cos you can hide being gay. And that’s just fucking stupid that I thought God was punishing us, because He’s not.” He sighs. “And I’m sorry that I was so stupid and I love you, Nicky. I really do and I’m sorry I was a selfish bastard.”
“I know, G,” Nick says with a slight smile. “I love you, too.”
Greg’s face splits into a wide grin then he shivers when Nick’s fingers trace lightly over his scars, his mouth slightly open in wonder. “They don’t hurt,” he answers the unasked question. He shudders in pleasure when the Nick’s fingertips graze his neck. “Feels kinda good when you touch them,” he mumbles. Nick presses a light kiss to the scars on his shoulder, paying silent tribute to Greg’s bravery.
A moment later, Greg turns to face him. “I’ve shown you mine. Now you show me yours.”
end
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slight religious themes, Greg has a crisis of faith and angst
Spoilers: “Stalker,” “Grave Danger” and “Play with Fire”
Summary: Then there were the Gordons and the coffin underground and fire ants and Greg’s curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair and he’s starting to think that he’s the brunt of one big cosmic joke.
A/N: While it’s not the happy fic I was going for, I think this turned out rather nicely. It’s not an angst fest which is yayful!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything; everything belongs to its respectful owner. The title comes from the song quoted below.
am i still your charm or am i just bad luck?
are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost?
i’ll show you mine if you show me yours first
let’s compare scars, i’ll tell you whose is worse
- rise against, swing life away
i.
Sometimes, Greg thinks he’s Nick’s bad luck charm.
Greg would never really peg himself as the religious type (he believes in God and Heaven and Hell, but mostly because he is scared that when he dies, nothing will happen), but his God was always the benevolent type. He believes that God would be loving and forgiving, but now he’s starting to doubt himself.
He remembers some religious fanatic saying that God punishes gay and all homosexuals go to Hell and he can’t believe that he’s beginning to think that guy was right.
Nick was fine before Greg came along. Then Greg had to go and kiss him that one time in the locker rooms and they became a “They” and Nigel Crane put a gun to Nick’s head.
At the time, Greg brushed it off as nothing, but then there was the lab explosion. Again, Greg chalked it up to bad luck.
Then there were the Gordons and the coffin underground and fire ants and Greg’s curled up in an uncomfortable hospital chair and he’s starting to think that he’s the brunt of one big cosmic joke. He’s punishing us, Greg thinks. Oh, fuck, God is punishing us for being gay, what do we do, what can we do? He presses his hands to his eyes and a few tears leak between his fingers.
The scars on his back – they’re a twisted sort of message, he figures. Greg inhales shakily and tells himself he has to end this before it’s too late.
ii.
For weeks after his release from the hospital, Nick wears long-sleeved shirts. He doesn’t want the world to see his scars, doesn’t want the constant reminder of what happened hanging over his head.
He can’t help but notice Greg’s distance.
It started out small – not touching when they watched television, not sprawling over the bed when he slept, but gradually, it’s becoming more noticeable. Now, Greg hardly makes eye contact, keeps touching to a minimum and he can hardly be in the same room as Nick anymore.
Nick tries to reason it out. Maybe Greg misinterpreted “Nick needs his space”, only that’s bullshit, because Greg would know what that means. Maybe Greg needs time to think. Again, bullshit, because Greg rarely needs “time to think.” Maybe Greg was scared of him.
That thought twists Nick’s gut and makes him want to vomit. When Nick was first in the hospital, Greg was the only one who didn’t hover anxiously, asking if he was all right every two seconds, never shooting Nick looks out of the corner of his eye as if Nick were about to keel over.
Greg was the only one who treated him as if nothing had happened.
iii.
That night, Greg curls up in the fetal position, facing away from Nick. After long moments of uncomfortable silence, Greg finally says, “We have to end it.”
Nick pauses. “What are you talking about?”
“We have to end this relationship. We’re being punished for it.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick repeats.
Greg tries not cry. “God. He’s punishing us for this, Nicky. Why do you think Nigel Crane stalked you and threw you out that window? Why do you think I almost blew up? Why do you think you were buried alive? It’s because we’re not right, Nicky. The scars we have? They’re punishment for all of this. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going to get any more scars. And I’m not gonna let you get them, either.”
For a long time, Nick stares at Greg’s curled-up body in stunned silence. Then he says, “Okay, then. Go.”
He doesn’t really expect Greg to crawl out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, but he does, and Nick hates him for it. He hates that Greg can just walk away from this and act like nothing ever happened. He hates that Greg is suddenly thinking like most of the kids he went to primary with.
Mostly, though, he hates himself for not stopping him.
iv.
Greg walks through the park, his hands shoved in his pockets. He spies someone on a bench, throwing bread crumbs to the birds and he sits down next to her. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey, you,” she responds. “I heard what happened with you and Nick.”
He sighs. “News travels fast, doesn’t it?”
“No. I just know everything.” She grins at him and winks. “It’s kind of hard being omniscient. You have to know everyone else’s pain and suffering.”
“You kind of already do with this job,” Greg mutters. “And you have to live with it.”
She shrugs and she’s the most beautiful woman in the world right now, wearing a flowing, white dress made out of some material he’s never seen. He’s pretty sure his type don’t get that stuff down on Earth. “You know, Greggo, God doesn’t hate you.”
He snorts. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’m all-knowing.” A beat. “And… God doesn’t hate people because of who they love, Greg. He’s just happy that you’re in love.” She fiddles with one of her silver hoop earrings and pats her hair, dark brown in a loose bun.
“Then why do Nick and I suffer so much?”
“Everyone suffers, Greg. And it’s not because of some divine hatred; it’s because we’re human.”
“You’re not,” he points out.
She smirks. “Not right now. Right now, I’m a figment of your imagination.” Then she sighs. “Why do you hide your scars?”
“Because they’re ugly. And, right now, it feels sort of like the red “A” in The Scarlet Letter.”
Her fingers lace with his. “You shouldn’t hide them, Greg. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them. They just show that you’ve been through shit and survived. Not all of us can say that we’ve been blown through a wall and lived, or that we’ve survived being underground for twenty-four hours in a coffin.”
Greg sighs. “What do I do?”
“You go to Nick and you show your scars,” she tells him firmly.
He holds her hand for a few more minutes before standing. “Thanks, Sara,” he says and kisses her on the cheek.
Sara Sidle grins her wide, gap-toothed grin and whispers, “Go get’em, Greggo.”
v.
“Nicky,” a voice whispers.
Nick groans and pulls the duvet over his head. “What do you want?” he mumbles.
“Nicky, I want to show you something.”
“Go away,” Nick moans and burrows deeper under the covers. He lets out a yelp when he feels them being yanked off the bed. “What’s going on?”
Greg sits down next to him, back to him and peels off his T-shirt. Twisting around a little, he looks Nick right in the eye. “I’ve showed you my scars. Show me yours.”
Nick blinks. “G, what’s this about?”
“I was scared, Nick, okay? Then I had this dream and I realized that the scars don’t mean anything. They aren’t punishment – they’re just… They’re just a reminder of what happened.”
Slowly, Nick nods. “Right.”
“Because I used to think that the scars were a punishment for you and me. And they aren’t. It felt like in The Scarlet Letter when she had to wear that ‘A’ on all her clothes, only we could hide these ‘cos you can hide being gay. And that’s just fucking stupid that I thought God was punishing us, because He’s not.” He sighs. “And I’m sorry that I was so stupid and I love you, Nicky. I really do and I’m sorry I was a selfish bastard.”
“I know, G,” Nick says with a slight smile. “I love you, too.”
Greg’s face splits into a wide grin then he shivers when Nick’s fingers trace lightly over his scars, his mouth slightly open in wonder. “They don’t hurt,” he answers the unasked question. He shudders in pleasure when the Nick’s fingertips graze his neck. “Feels kinda good when you touch them,” he mumbles. Nick presses a light kiss to the scars on his shoulder, paying silent tribute to Greg’s bravery.
A moment later, Greg turns to face him. “I’ve shown you mine. Now you show me yours.”
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