Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Title: Warm Sugar
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: FRT
Spoilers: general for season 5
Warnings: none
Summary: kisses and Christmas kringle
A/N: Written for Caroline Crane's "Crime Takes a Holiday" challenge.
http://www.nickandgreg.com/holiday/index.php
It was cold when Nick slid out of bed. He pulled on his robe and the
slippers his mom got him two Christmases before and shuffled out into
the hall as he yawned and stretched. Jeff Buckley was playing softly
on the stereo, which meant Greg was feeling mellow, and Nick was about
to round the corner into the kitchen and ask for coffee when he was
distracted by the scent in the air.
He was used to the kitchen smelling like coffee since Greg set it on a
timer every morning before he went to bed, but he wasn't used to the
kitchen�the whole house�smelling like�like vanilla and sugar and
something else he couldn't quite place. Maybe almond.
He paused in the kitchen doorway and took in the sight of Greg in the
middle of the kitchen, oven mitts on both hands as he walked two
baking sheets to the counter and set them on wire racks to cool. He
shook the gloves off, set them aside, and placed another two baking
sheets in the oven. Nick hadn't even known they'd had more than one
baking sheet.
"What you doing?" he asked softly, his voice thick with sleep.
Greg turned and smiled�beamed, actually, and hurried across the
kitchen for a kiss. His mouth tasted sweet and his skin smelled like
baking cookies. Nick hated not being able to wake up with him
anymore, but Greg's morning kisses almost made up for it.
"Missed you," Greg whispered against Nick's mouth.
"You, too." Nick slid his hands up and down Greg's arms. "What time
is it?"
"Nearly nine."
"Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Because you look so cute when you sleep that I can't bear to disturb
you." Greg wrapped his arms around Nick's waist and swayed slowly
with him.
Nick smiled, his cheek pressed against the warm skin of Greg's neck as
they slow danced in the kitchen. "What are you making cookies for?"
he asked as he eyed the pale cookies in the shape of a figure eight.
"Cookie exchange," Greg said simply.
"Cookie what?" Nick asked as he slid his hands beneath Greg's shirt to
caress his back.
"The neighborhood Christmas cookie exchange," Greg said, and Nick got
the distinct feeling that he was supposed to know what Greg was
talking about. Greg sighed. "We only got invited to it weeks ago."
"Wait," Nick said softly. "We?"
"Yeah. It's not until one, and it should be over in a few hours so
you'll have plenty of time to get to work."
"Uh�"
Greg laughed, then. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"
Nick shook his head.
He sighed. "It's OK. We were making out when I told you about it."
"Oh, well, see that's not fair, G," Nick said, reaching up with one
hand to play with Greg's hair. "You know I can't concentrate on
anything but you when we're making out."
Greg smiled. "I know. But it'll be fun. Besides, it's not like
we're exactly a traditional couple, and it's cool that they invited us."
The thought of spending two hours with the neighborhood women drinking
coffee and exchanging cookie recipes send a stab of pure fear through
Nick's body.
"Fine." Greg sighed. "You don't have to come."
"I�" Nick shrugged, wondering when it was that Greg had started being
able to read him so well. "It's not that I don't�I mean, I'm sure it
would be�"
Greg silenced him with a kiss. "How come I'm the only one of us
secure enough in his masculinity to spend the afternoon at a coffee
klatch?"
"Five older sisters, G," Nick said. "I'm still psychologically
scarred from years of being forced to attend tea parties."
Greg laughed. "Aww."
"Seriously, G, not funny."
"It couldn't have been that bad," Greg said. "It's not like they made
you wear a dress or put you in makeup."
Nick cringed.
Greg laughed even louder. "Oh, my poor baby," he murmured. "No
wonder you won't let me put you in eyeliner."
"It's not funny. Until I was big enough to fight back, they treated
me like I was a living doll."
Greg nodded and tugged on the sash that held Nick's robe closed. He
moved closer as Nick's robe fell open, his hands stroking Nick's bare
skin gently. "Any photographic evidence of you in girls' clothes at a
tea party survive?"
Nick sighed.
"Aww. I bet you were adorable. Did you wear your mom's high heels?
White gloves? A big, floppy hat?"
Nick kissed him to make him shut up. Greg leaned forward into the
kiss, moaned against his mouth and shivered as Nick pulled their
bodies tight together.
"Oh," Greg said as something started to beep. He pulled away and Nick
grabbed him, pulled him close again. "Nick�"
"Don't get it," Nick whispered as he started to unbutton Greg's shirt.
"You just got off, there's no reason for them to call you back in."
"It's my kringle," Greg said, pulling away again.
"Your what?" Nick asked, unable to really focus on anything except
Greg's mouth.
"My kringle," Greg repeated, stroking Nick's chest gently before
moving away, across the kitchen to turn off the beeping timer. He
slid the oven mitts on, cracked the oven to check the doneness of the
kringle before opening it fully and removing the baking sheets. He
set them on the top of the stove and turned the oven off, kicked the
oven door shut and turned back towards Nick. "Now, where were we?"
"I don't know, G, don't you have to concentrate on your baking? You
need to make a good impression on the ladies of the neighborhood and all."
Greg's mouth quirked into a smile. "Kringle's done," he said as he
unbuttoned his shirt. "And we've got�" he looked at the clock, "four
hours until we have to be at the cookie exchange." He laughed at the
expression on Nick's face. "Fine. Four hours until I have to be at
the cookie exchange." He shrugged his shirt off and let it hit the
floor as he wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders.
"Four hours?" Nick asked before kissing Greg gently. "You think
that's enough time?"
Greg pushed Nick's robe off his shoulders. "We'll hurry," he
whispered with a smile.