Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Author: Ullman
E-mail: [email protected]
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: FRM
Author's Notes: Feedback always welcome
Nick opens his front door, steps into the hall way and stops dead in
his tracks when he notices his bed frame there. He doesn't waste
any time wondering how it got there, since that's not really that big
of a conundrum. Why it's there is the real question. And he knows
just the person to ask. On that note he walks into the bedroom, and finds
Greg, busy painting his bedroom. Purple.
Now he doesn't even know what question he should ask first. Why
still seems like a good choice but as he stands there, taking in the
sight of Greg painting his wall and the uncovered pieces of
furniture that seem to be turning purple as well all the words he
can get out are, "Jesus Christ."
Greg lowers his paintbrush, glancing over his shoulder to smile at
Nick. "Hey."
"What the fuck are you doing, Greg?" Stupid question, because he can
see just what the guy is doing, should be focusing on the why part.
"I was in bed and couldn't help notice how boring this room was.
Needed to be spiced up," Greg says, already returning his attention
to the wall.
Nick nods. "Right. That makes sense." Greg mumbles something
incoherent and Nick choses to ignore it and adds, "Seriously, G.
Don't you think you should've discussed this with me first?
And dude? Purple?"
Greg takes a step back from his work, admiring it for a brief moment
before turning around to face Nick. "Yeah, purple. Looks cool,
doesn't it?"
Nick doesn't even bother to answer that, instead he wonders how
he can ever get relaxed in a room that looks like an acid trip gone
horribly wrong. And speaking of sleep, he remembers the bed frame in
the hall way. "Where's my mattress, G?"
Greg shoots him a confused look, takes his time to think about that
question, frowning as if he can't think why Nick would be
thinking of such trivial matters in the presence of great art, finally he
shrugs. "In the living room."
Nick nods again, because where else would it be. "I hope you plan on
finishing this within the next hour `cause there's no way
I'm sleeping in the livingroom, Greg."
Greg smiles sheepishly. "Well, you don't really have a choice,
Nick. This," he gestures vaguely at the walls, "all has to dry out
and tomorrow I have to do it a second time."
When Nick doesn't answer him, Greg's smile vanishes and he
shrugs, "Besides, what's the big deal with sleeping in the living
room?" With that he walks past Nick, who's still taking in the
war zone that his bedroom currently is.
The thought that he has no intention of getting mad at Greg over
doing this is the thing that bothers him most of all, mainly because
it's what he's been doing all week. Greg doesn't want to
talk about why he got shot two times without as much as drawing
his own weapon. Fine. Greg doesn't want to return any of Grissom's
phonecalls.Cool. Greg decides to paint Nick's bedroom. Whatever.
Purple? Who cares. Whatever keeps Greg happy, right? And feeling
like the world's biggest push over he turns around to go and catch up
with Greg.
~
"See, this ain't that bad," Greg says, grinning when Nick rolls
his eyes at him. "Come on, Nick. Think of it as camping."
Nick snorts. "I don't like camping."
Greg lets himself fall down on the matrass next to Nick and
sighs. "Stop whining, man. What's not to like about camping?"
Nick turns to his side, looking directly into Greg's eyes.
"Christ. Let me count the ways, Greg. Tents, dirt, sand,
rain, mud, dirt, sweat and did I mention dirt?"
Greg chuckles and shakes his head while sliding one arm around
Nick's waist to pull him closer. "Well, there's no dirt here.
And even if there was; camping's romantic, don't you think?"
Nick shrugs, trying to hide a smile as Greg snuggles up
closely. "I'm not feeling it, G."
"Didn't you ever go camping as a kid?"
"Yeah. Hence the me not liking it."
"Well," Greg says, shifting slightly to get more comfortable, moving
carefully not to hurt his bandaged abdomen. "I blame your parents
for not showing you the romantic side of camping."
Nick grins. "I'm kind of glad they didn't, Greg."
Greg looks up and stops his attempts of getting as close to Nick as
possible without physically hurting himself, to say, "See, that's
so you, you know that? I can't help but think that your parents
should have been more open about stuff like that. Maybe you'd be more
open-minded about it."
And even though Nick knows where Greg's heading with this, he
decides to play dumb. "About camping?"
"Sex, Nick. I'm talking about sex. Parents should try and teach
their kids not to be such tight asses. It's traumatizing, really
and you're a text book example."
"Comments like that won't get you invited over for Christmas,
Greg."
Greg laughs wryly. "Oh really. Was there ever any chance of that
happening?"
"You'll never know now, will you?"
Greg shakes his head, absentmindedly running his hand over Nick's
back. "Did you deliberately change the subject here, Nick?"
"Yes."
Greg nods. "Any chance we'll be returning to that subject?"
Nick gasps slightly as Greg's hand reaches his ass but he
doesn't let it distract him, too much. Arching back into the touch he
says, "No, man." Deliberately keeps his tone light, but he can't
miss the annoyed look that crosses Greg's face and Greg's
hand's still on his ass, which he now finds strangely disturbing.
"Okay. So wanna talk about inviting me over for christmas then?"
Greg asks, slightly losening his grip on Nick's ass, not taking
his hand off though as he adds, "Problem with that is you should
probably tell them about me first, right?"
"What makes you think I haven't yet?" Nick asks innocently,
arching one eyebrow at the other man.
"Well," Greg slurrs, "Maybe because your mother called tonight and
had absolutely no idea who I was?"
Fuck. Nick holds back a groan, he should have thought about that,
should have told his mother not to call him at home. Not sure how he
would have explained that to her, but still. "Greg.." his voice
trails off and he just stares at Greg, unable to find the right
words.
"Don't worry, Nick," Greg says in a resigned tone of voice,
finally letting go of Nick's ass, "I didn't tell her. Does make me
wonder if you're really that big of a coward that you can't even tell
your parents about me."
"Look, G. It's not that easy.."
Greg raises one hand to shut up and as Nick doesn't know what to
say anyway he immediately stops talking.
"It should be, Nick. But maybe you're thinking that whatever
we're doing here isn't going to last so you don't have to bother
telling your parents, right?"
He's still staring at Greg, briefly wondering how they got from
camping to fighting, but remembering that he was the one that
changed the subject, it's probably his fault. "Come on, Greg. You
know that's bullshit."
Greg laughs, a slightly hysterical high-pitched sort of laugh that
makes Nick feel even more uncomfortable than he's already
feeling. "How should I know that, Nick. Enlighten me, please?"
Greg's words are almost drowning in sarcasm and as Nick doesn't
answer him, he continues, "What? Multi- syllable words too hard for ya?"
"Shut up, Greg."
Greg grins, a triumphant look in his eyes and Nick has to fight hard
to control the urge to wack him over the head right about now. The
urge growing when Greg says, "Ooh. That's some come back, Nick.
I'm impressed."
Nick shakes his head, drawing a deep breath before opening his
mouth. "I mean it Greg, shut the fuck up." And staring at Greg's
face, seeing the irritatingly smug smirk on the other man's face,
he adds, "Because I'm about to reach for my gun and unlike you I do
know how to use it."
The words get the result he was unconsciously aiming for, but once
he actually sees the hurt look on Greg's face Nick has to close
his eyes, not that it keeps him from feeling guilty. But closing his
eyes keeps him from having to see Greg leave and not seeing it will
stop him from giving in, again. Feels Greg get up from the floor,
hears him getting dressed and walk towards the door without saying
another word.
And he knew these past days that this was going to happen, it was
only a matter of time until Greg found the right button to push.
Nick knows if he opens his eyes now he'll go after Greg,
apologize, make it all better, but if he keeps them closed it's like this
never happened. Forcing himself to keep his eyes shut, he realizes
how tired he is, and not just physically.
His thoughts wander briefly to the mess in his bedroom and the fact
that he's probably the one that's going to have to clean it
up. Wonders if he should finish the purple paint job or do it all over
in a more suitable color. A less aggravating color, less like Greg.