Title: Matching Bands
By: nigaishin
Pairing: HodgesxNick
Rating: PG
Beta: helena_eternal :D
Disclaimers: Characters are not mine.

Nick doesn't know why he wants to do it.

He has already opened and closed the damn box at least twenty times, stared at the matching bands so long he'd recognize them anywhere.

David is strange-- so very different from him, Nick can't figure out what's going on in his head most of the time.

He wonders if he's going to shrug it off and go on with whatever he was doing before Nick asked him that, ignoring him.

He wonders if he's going to look at him and laugh and then tell him he's sick in the head, he doesn't want something like that, won't he just lay off a bit? He's getting sappy.

In Nick's head, David never says yes, and that makes his stomach churn and his head drop, and he squeezes his eyes shut because that might distract him from thinking about it too hard.

Sometimes he berates himself, saying that he's too hard on David, he's just doing what other people usually do: stop digging as soon as they get a snarky remark, and leave it at that.

They're lovers, they kissed, they had sex, they fought and made up, laid in each others' arms while watching a movie and fallen asleep half-way sometimes too.

They cooked and ate dinners and lunches and breakfasts together, and ice-cream in bed and pop-corn on the couch.

They sometimes don't speak to each others, sulk, say hurtful things and feel guilty afterwards.

And apologize, and say nothing at all but understand anyway.

Why can't the David Hodges in his head see that?



Dave stares at the matching bands numbly, his jaw set.

He doesn't even realize he has stopped breathing until his brain just flips him the finger and takes over, and he sucks in a sharp air-deprived breath, his eyes still fixed on the rings in his hand.

Dave can sense Nick sitting on the couch beside him, turned slightly to face him, one of his legs bent under him.

He knows Nick's hand is resting on the back of the couch just behind his nape, and that he's trying hard not to give into the urge to prompt him for an answer, touch him.

He's seriously trying to give him some space, no pressure.

The first sound out of Dave's mouth is a croaked "what...?", and then his head whips around to look at Nicky sitting there, face blank and apparently indifferent if it wasn't for the fear, the need, the hope in his eyes, clashing so hard with the thin, firm line of his lips.

David doesn't know what to say, he's kind of over-whelmed by it all and his head is spinning way too fast.

He closes his eyes because he wants to smash his lips on Nicky's, kiss him, make him moan, chase this embarrassed silence away.

He also wants to tell him he's no woman, that he doesn't need something like a ring, the symbol of what nobody but them recognizes, at least as far as law goes.

They don't need to say it, prove it with rings, right?

The box is tugged away from his slack fingers and his eyes snap open as he reaches out to grab it back, but Nick places it on the coffee-table and touches his arm, silently.

He almost opens his mouth to say something, but words fail the both of them as they stare hopelessly into each others' eyes, and in the end Dave finds himself gaping, struggling for a wry answer that doesn't come, and then he's nodding, slowly, and he doesn't really want to look weak, to give in, but somehow he can't see Nicky as clearly as before.