Title: Christmas , Present
Author: Buddy
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by CBS, Bruckheimer Productions, et al. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta Reader: Many thanks to cloudsurfing, especially for requesting more. Any faux pas' remaining are entirely my own.
Author's note: I started to write this as a Christmas story for carolinecrane, but it kept growing and sadly I missed my target date. It's still growing unfortunately so I've decided to go the chapter route in an attempt to ease my closure button from its sticking point. In its entirety it could be read as a standalone but I did write it as a sequel to If Only Until Tomorrow.

***

Nick pushed his way through excited shoppers and wondered if he could get away with flashing his badge in order to queue hop. He was on vacation; everyone else should be working and leaving him to browse in peace, not be stepping on his toes and elbowing him in the ribs simply because he was too polite to jostle them back.

A young girl rolled her stroller wheels over the back of his heel, but the resulting pain was cut short by his surprise at the seat being filled with bags and packages and the fact there was no baby or toddler in sight.

"Sorry," she muttered, more irritated than apologetic.

"No problem, Miss."

The puzzlement Nick was feeling must have shown on his face because she smiled at him awkwardly before moving on without offering any explanation. And why would she? She was a shopper not a suspect and he really needed to relax and leave the job back at the precinct. He shook his head; it was nothing really compared to some of the things he'd seen. Like the girls out on stilts a couple of nights ago, carrying inflatable cocks advertising the opening of a new club, and wearing skirts that failed to cover their assets.

He picked up a Superman plushy from a nearby shelf and decided it would be an ideal Christmas present for his nephew. Whether or not he actually wrapped it up and handed it over was another matter. He tossed it in his basket and ignored the curious looks he got from the fifteen year old with bad acne and braces. He smiled; he could afford to be generous because those days of angst and uncertainty were over for him.

At least in theory. Of course there was heartache, and living with bad decisions that led to finding himself with the phone in his hand at three am, but not enough balls for the follow through. Eventually it wasn't so much about lacking courage as acknowledging that he'd left it too late and he would simply have to live with it for the rest of his life. It had got better; for a time in college he'd had real fun, and ok, maybe there had been more heartache along the way, but that was life. Even a bad break-up with his fraternity's Golden Boy hadn't messed him up for long, and he doubted anything could have the profound effect on his life that Greg had had anyway. It was Greg he couldn't get out of his mind, even now, and he renewed his resolve to do something about it soon. That was progress; this time he didn't have a drink in his hand, so maybe he would still mean it in the morning.

His smile faltered when the kid reached for something on the top shelf and his t-shirt rode up his back exposing crude body art. Nick wondered who the hell was willing to risk their license for a three-hundred dollar sale, but a flash of gold drew his eyes to the Rolex on the kid's wrist and the question became a moot point. Money talked in this town better than any other language, and maybe he couldn't do anything about that. He tightened his mouth grimly and checked his own watch to verify he wasn't faced with a rebel playing hooky; at least he could do something about that.

The kid made a pistol with his fingers and aimed it at Nick before miming pulling the trigger. He grinned insolently and even though it was obvious he was going to be a looker when his skin cleared, suddenly Nick felt sorry for him. Poor bastard probably had a rich father with more money than time, and he could relate to that. But he intended to enjoy his vacation, not dole out negative attention to needy juvenile delinquents.

He turned away and scanned the shelves laden with Barbie, Girl's World and other 'pink' stuff that his youngest sister used to drool over when they were kids. Until she discovered the Back Street Boys and the effects of a little cleavage, and had started to resemble Barbie instead of play with her. But she had a good heart and a quick wit, and Nick wasn't one of the ones who misunderstood her. He grabbed the latest model for her, and grinned at the lame joke; he knew she would get it and it would make her happy.

He'd put in a lot of overtime lately and his Captain had practically forced him to take some time off. He hadn't been angling to get the Christmas period off, but if was the first holiday he'd looked forward to since joining the Dallas Police Department, and he was pleased with the way it had worked out. He spent the first two days eating, sleeping and dozing in front of the TV, and it was a strange kind of bliss to indulge in. He had to force himself to leave his apartment that morning because it was getting addictive doing nothing, and he was rapidly running out of time to mail stuff to his family.

He felt a faint tinge of guilt; he hadn't actually lied to his folks about working the holiday but he hadn't exactly mentioned he was off either. His mom had simply assumed he was unavailable for visits or a family Christmas dinner and he'd let her. Now he wasn't sure that the alternatives were quite so appealing; it wasn't a whole lot of fun pretending to be something he wasn't whilst Jamie and Terry Farlow tirelessly introduced him to girls who set his teeth on edge in their earnestness to 'get to know him'. As though he were truly a man of mystery, instead of a liar who couldn't be himself, not if he wanted to keep the respect of his colleagues and his job uncomplicated. But at least he wasn't the only guest or the only bachelor so all the attention wouldn't be solely on him.

Nick's spirits dropped and his belly rumbled the moment his excursion stopped being fun. He'd only eaten a quick bite of toast for breakfast so he shot over to the sales desk as soon as he spied an opening and decided to grab some lunch and then finish his shopping after, he might feel better with a full stomach. He pulled a face at Barbie and Superman while he waited to pay for them, and thought sourly they might be in for a better Christmas than him. Well maybe not Barbie, she had less chance of getting laid and keeping her job than he did. But everyone who watched Justice League knew that Superman was fucking Batman, so at least that was a score for queer crime fighters everywhere.

He felt better and grinned at the cashier when she handed him his change. "Happy holidays, ma'am."

"Happy holidays," she beamed at him.

"Excuse me, please," he said, to the tallish, lean guy in the games isle, who was blocking his escape.

The guy turned toward him and the wild hair and open smile caused Nick's heart to miss a beat.

"Sure is crowded in here," said the guy, who looked nothing like Greg once he had turned all the way around.

He stood back to let Nick pass and flashed him a quizzical look. Nick realised he was staring, but he was more worried about getting his heart to return to its normal rhythm again.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," he said foolishly.

Not Greg flashed him a hopeful grin and looked him up and down. He leaned forward and dropped his voice a couple of octaves so Nick wouldn't be in any doubt about where he was coming from. "Not the most original line I ever heard, but I'm willing to overlook that on account of the view."

Nick was aghast. Not just because a couple of people were staring pointedly in their direction now, but at the thought of getting naked with someone who evoked painful memories of possibly the worst mistake of his life. The words, 'I'm a cop' hovered on his lips, but he wasn't about to use the bane of his life as an excuse to get someone to back the fuck off.

"I'm kinda in a hurry," he said, and felt bad when Not Greg's face fell. "Happy holidays," he muttered helplessly, and without a backward glance left as quickly as he could.

***

Tinsel flashed and shone under relentless strobe lighting, and Nick was grateful he wasn't prone to epileptic seizures. He sighed; it wasn't that the club sucked or that the ambience of the place was off, he knew it was him. He simply didn't feel the holiday vibe tonight, and it was spoiling his decision to get shit-faced. On second thought, if that was all he intended to do he could just as easily pick up a bottle of whiskey and head home. At least that way he would land somewhere soft when he fell over, and it wasn't as though he was going to get laid. At the moment anonymous sex held as much appeal for him as being called to a scene involving a week old corpse.

He drained his drink and the guy who had been sending him meaningful glances for the past half an hour moved in his direction. He was gorgeous, no question, and for a split second, Nick wavered, until the guy was intercepted by a body builder in a sleeveless t-shit and leather pants, and that was enough to get Nick moving. He took a hard look around as he exited the club; he hated that he needed to and it wasn't as though the place was notoriously gay yet, but he would hate to be outed by bumping into a fellow colleague on the beat.

The night air was a welcome relief after the stifling heat of the club, but it wasn't long before Nick was too cold to be comfortable. He zipped up his jacket and pulled up his collar, put his head down against the unaccustomed chill wind and stuck his thumb out for a cab. It was busy out and hard to believe he was in downtown Dallas instead of Las Vegas or New York City. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him that it might be cool to just take off for one of those places and lose himself in anonymity. A fresh start and freedom to be himself had never felt more appealing, and he doubted that he would want to be a cop forever anyway. He didn't know why he thought life would be easier away from his home town; homophobia existed everywhere but at least somewhere else didn't have his family breathing down his neck.

Cabs whizzed by and seemed to mock him for his apparent invisibility, and he decided it might be easier to walk and hail at the same time. He turned and the sudden jarring to his head and upper torso almost made him miss the sensation of soft leather and hard warmth. He couldn't decide if he was annoyed or simply wanted to lean in to the familiar scent of coffee and spice that took him back years, and triggered his second bout of déjàvu in less than a week. The hand on his forearm felt like a lead weight; his whole being was reduced to the area it covered and all he could do was stare at it. He didn't need to look up to verify what his head told him was highly improbable, but his heart told him was true. He did so anyway.

The hand on his arm tightened perceptibly. "Jeez, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going and then someone pushed me from …" The familiar voice stopped abruptly and the ensuing silence was deafening.

Nick forced himself to keep on looking and his heart lurched at the expression he saw there. Greg looked conflicted, as though running away and throwing his arms around Nick were equal possibilities, and he looked as though he were struggling with both options. A quick look to either side of him revealed he was alone and Nick was willing to thank any God for small mercies.

"Hello, Greg," Nick said after ten seconds that felt more like five minutes. "It's been a while."

"So you are still here." Greg blurted out, and he snatched his hand away from Nick's arm as though it might get him arrested.

"As are you." Nick raised his eyebrows. "Funny that we haven't run into each other before now."

Greg started his familiar fidgeting, bouncing from one foot to the other like he was hyped up on coffee or adrenaline, or most likely both, and it was good to know that some things hadn't changed. He grinned at Nick and the sight of it peeled back the years like they were minutes, and Nick couldn't help but grin back.

"Sorry, Nick. I forgot my manners in the weirdness. What I meant to say is, 'hey, how've you been?'"

It was an eerie parody of the day they had met, and Nick couldn't decide if it was a good or bad omen. Greg stuck his hand out Nick clasped it; it was good to feel the solid evidence of his presence. He expected it to have a more steadying effect on him but it didn't go nearly far enough to stop the surrealism of the moment, and Nick had the sensation of being held by a kite string. He tried to speak but the words wouldn't come at first. He knew there wasn't an easy way to make the situation lighter without being a total ass and undermining what they had once meant to each other, so he decided to be honest.

"Do you want me to cover the last decade, out here on the sidewalk, or shall we just go with what's current?"

Greg looked bug-eyed for a moment and Nick could have sworn that for a second at least he looked smug. "It isn't that long. It's more like … five years, six months, three weeks and five days. I could give you minutes and seconds, but that's not only geeky, it's tacky."

Nick's heart started to thud uncomfortably in his chest and suddenly it was too much to look at Greg's face. He looked away and realised that there were other people milling around them, pushing, laughing, rushing, and in some cases drunkenly lurching, and all of them were making a lot of noise. How had he missed that exactly?

"Relax, Nick, I was only teasing. It's nerves, I guess."

"Sure you were. I knew that."

"So. Do you want to go grab some coffee, or were you rushing off somewhere exciting?"

***

Nick knew Greg was fishing, and he'd be a liar if he didn't admit it gave him a thrill. Here was his chance, handed to him on a plate, it would seem, and he was terrified.

"Come on," Greg pressed, as though he knew Nick's silence was a sign of weakness and all he to do was move in for the kill. "I know this great place the cops don't tell you about, they even have donuts to die for."

Nick groaned. "No way, man. I'm not going to Clancy's even if you strong arm me."

Greg looked confused and Nick grinned again. "You can’t be surprised that I'm a cop and that I go there all the time. This is my night off. Well actually I'm on vacation ..."

"Ok. Where to?"

"To be honest, at this hour, I don't know."

"Oh ... maybe some other time then."

Nick hated the neutral expression that appeared on Greg's face; he knew from past experience that it was a defence mechanism designed to stop him from seeing what Greg was thinking. Which probably meant that Greg thought he was getting the brush off. This wasn't the first time the past had reared its ugly head to haunt Nick, but it was the worst. And the only one that counted, because Greg was here and now, and if Nick fucked this up he would lose all the hope he held on to, that one day Greg wouldn't always be the nagging ache in his heart, and the ghost in his subconscious. His every waking thought just lately, and he might as well admit it, seeing as no one was privy to his thoughts but himself. It was time to stop pretending he could hide from them.

The problem was that hope had allowed him to become complacent and that was the thing that had enabled him to keep putting off actually calling Greg up and seeing if there was anything salvageable. And if so, what torture he would have to endure to make it possible. But hope hadn't been the only thing keeping him going. Mostly he had this sense of rightness, a feeling and a belief that one day the universe meant to give him the opportunity to put things right, simply because he wasn't meant to fuck things up so royally in the first place. If only he hadn't been such an ass and cut Greg out of his life completely. Maybe he didn't deserve another chance, but he needed one.

"I don't live far from here, only a short cab ride really we could …"

"Ok, lead the way," Greg interrupted eagerly.

Nick felt his mouth dry up at the thought that maybe Greg was just trying to get him alone for some payback. Hard to hold on to given that this was Greg, but why else would he take a chance like this? Nick's territory, and his advantage, but then Greg didn't give a fuck about control the way Nick did, so maybe he really just wanted coffee and a friendly chat. Nick stifled a snort of laughter at that thought.

He hailed the first cab that passed them and miraculously it stopped. His thoughts were chaotic and he avoided Greg's eyes, which were filling with the familiar hunger that had terrified Nick so much in high school, but he'd missed like a limb ever since he'd given it up. They were inside the cab and speeding toward his apartment in no time at all, and what the hell was he doing? There was nothing sane about this at all; five years was a long time, probably too long, and maybe it was time to apply some big-assed breaks, but one close look at Greg and it was already too late for that.

He looked good. In fact he looked fucking gorgeous, and Nick couldn't believe he hadn't been around to witness the way looking at him and thinking wonderful, had changed to oh God, my eyes need oxygen. He tried desperately not to remember the way long golden limbs used to twist up in rumpled sheets, the way heavy lidded eyes filled with satisfied bliss, or morning hair seemed to disprove the existence of gravity. He failed miserably. At least Greg seemed to expect him to talk, like it should be possible to pull the useless wad of muscle from the roof of his mouth and get it to work.

"My folks moved back to California just after high school and I ended up at UC, Berkeley. I did an internship as a lab technician for two semesters in the San Francisco Crime Lab once I left there, but I'm doing research at the moment for a pharmaceutical company."

"And?"

"It's really boring and I hate it," Greg said miserably, but then his face brightened and the transformation was amazing. "But I have an interview with the Dallas Crime Lab after Christmas."

"Wait, doesn't that mean …"

"It is conceivable we could run into each other if I get the job."

"If you get it?" Nick laughed. "Since when did the great Greg Sanders get to be so modest?"

"Oh, I didn't, it's all false. Seriously though, I want the job pretty badly so my sense of self is sadly compromised."

Nick laughed again and to his relief he started to relax. This was all so wonderfully familiar and if the two of them had changed much over the years it didn't seem obvious so far.

"Oh really? How long were you in college? Three years at most? And I bet you were in the top five per cent of your year, and top of your class. There must have been head hunters falling out of your bushes, man."

Greg smirked. "You're a little off, but I had offers."

"So how come you ended up back in Dallas?"

Greg avoided his gaze. "Is this a trick question, or do I get a prize if you like my answer?"

The cab pulled up outside Nick's apartment building and saved them both from answering. Nick paid the driver and ignored his interested looks through the rear view mirror. There was nothing to see here, only old buddies catching up, and Nick ignored the tension that seemed to reappear and surround the two of them as they stood on his sidewalk, and tried to convince himself that were true. He felt like a teenager; his hands were clammy and his heart was racing, and he hadn't felt this unsophisticated since his freshman year in college. He forcibly pulled himself together and indicated with a tilt of his head that Greg should follow him.

***

Greg whistled when Nick turned on the lamps in the lounge; he ran his hands over the back of the soft leather couch and eyed Nick's entertainment centre like a junkie jonesing for crack. The place was pristine and the only visible signs that Nick had been there lately were the woollen throw half draped over the bamboo chest, and the morning papers folded up on the coffee table.

"Wow! I feel like I should take my shoes off or something."

Greg toed carpet pile appreciatively, and Nick couldn't tell if he was being deliberately provocative or not because his mind was no longer functioning properly. Greg was here, in Nick's apartment, and it was entirely possible that someone had slipped him a Mickey Finn before he left the club and this was potentially the best trip of his life.

"You don't have to. You can do, if you want to, but you don't have to ... Right, shutting up now. Kitchen's through here."

Nick stood a moment in front of the coffee filter and closed his eyes. If this was a dream or some kind of chemical assisted fantasy he intended to make the most of every single minute of it. He could feel Greg's presence close behind him and he found out just how close Greg was the moment he spoke and his breath touched the back of Nick's neck.

"You changed your coffee." He sounded ridiculously happy about that small fact and Nick turned around to face him.

"Maybe I've changed a lot of things since I last saw you."

Greg took a step closer. "Nah, you haven't. You're still a neat freak with an unnatural predisposition toward shiny metal objects. And you're a cop - still a Knight in Shining Amour." There was no rancour on Greg's face only open, honest desire and yet Nick was still waiting for the catch.

"I'll bet you look really good in uniform," Greg said, and there was a toe curling catch in his voice.

Nick swallowed hard. He knew when his space was being invaded, and his space was definitely no longer only his. "What about you Greg? Did you change at all?"

Greg's face hardened for a moment and it looked odd, as though he were trying a new character on for size and fit, but Nick could see the pain it hid and he wanted to throw himself at Greg's feet and beg for his forgiveness. It was always a bad sign when he turned into Scarlet O'Hara, and he imagined the look of horror on Greg's face before he ran screaming into the night, and it sobered Nick's rising hysteria instantly.

"I'd like to think I'm older and wiser," Greg said, his voice a husky whisper. "But I guess we both know that's not true, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Nick's heart felt like a concrete block in his chest and he found himself amazed that it could still pump blood around his body. "Greg, I'm so …"

Greg put his finger to Nick's lips. "Don't say it."

He looked at Nick as though he were a particularly interesting specimen to be observed under a microscope, and then he leaned forward deliberately and kissed him. Slowly at first, a mere brush of his lips against Nick's, designed to tease and not satisfy, to drive him insane.

Nick reached up frantically to run his fingers through Greg's hair and the moment he made contact it was as though a damn had broken for the two of them. He opened hungry lips under Greg's and allowed his seeking tongue entry. Greg's technique had changed even if he did still taste exactly the same, and Nick felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of him gaining experience with other men. He knew it was being unreasonable, but it was there all the same, and he wanted to make it go away. He wanted to cover Greg in his scent and stake a claim he had no right to, and he'd never been so hard, so fast in his life.

But then Greg was gently pushing him away and Nick thought he must be dreaming because this was how his dreams about Greg always ended; with him bitterly disappointed and faced with the reality that it wasn't going to happen for real. Ever. Again.

"I'm sorry," Greg said breathlessly. "I didn't think a kiss could be so …

"You hated it didn't you?" Nick ground out. "It's ok, you can tell me, I'm a grown-up now."

Greg laced his fingers in Nick's and pulled him forward slightly, and Nick could tell that the gesture was meant to be more reassuring than arousing but heat still flared again in the pit of his stomach.

"I didn't hate it at all. I liked it, a lot, but it was moving in a direction I wasn't anticipating, and I'm not down with the idea of fucking you and then waking up to find out you think you made a mistake."

It felt like low blow but Nick guessed he deserved it. The urge to tell Greg he wasn't thinking of fucking and running was huge, but it was all too much too soon, and most probably all way too late. So what now?

"How about we talk?" Greg said, as though he heard Nick's thoughts. "That coffee would be good right about now."

~*~

Nick heaved a sigh of relief, at least Greg wasn't leaving. "Sure we can. Why don't you go back in the lounge and put on some music and I'll be along in a minute."

Greg smiled at him and Nick turned away because he didn't want Greg to see the effect it had on him when he did that. He stood for a while and breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth, and by the time the opening bars of What's the Story (Morning Glory?) filtered through his heart rate had returned to normal. He hoped the methodical task of making coffee would help to calm his nerves and dampen any lingering flare of arousal.

Greg was grinning when Nick carried two steaming cups of coffee through and instinctively Nick knew what was coming next. "Oasis, Nick? Did you totally avoid Grunge and go straight for middle age?"

"There's nothing wrong with Oasis, man. Personal stuff aside, the Gallaghers are a good musical team. And, if you had looked a little harder you would have found CDs by both The Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots in there somewhere."

Greg's grin was relentless. "Do you actually play them or are they there just to impress people?"

"Quick yanking my chain, Sanders. I know the lyrics to every track on there. And no, I'm not singing for you to prove that."

Greg took his coffee and Nick ignored the brush of his fingers; he would not focus on the urge he had to twine their hands together again because he was not eighteen years old and he didn't automatically sexualise everything any more, and besides, he deserved better than … than … hand sex.

Greg was sitting on the floor with his back to the armchair nearest the stereo, and he looked like a perfect combination of casual limbs and intense concentration. It was hard for Nick to be the focus of it, and to sit in the chair opposite and pretend it had no effect on him at all.

"So what do you do for fun around here?" Greg asked him, and Nick had this horrible feeling that he was being mocked.

"Well work keeps me pretty busy, but I like to follow the game. I go when I can but for the days I can't I have cable. I go to the cinema once a week, even if it means catching the late show, and I eat out a lot and have a drink with the guys from work. What about you?"

"Until I moved back here I used to surf with every free minute I had. I tried hand gliding a couple of times too, but I prefer waves to air. I've been to a few science conventions lately, but the circuit in Dallas sucks, man. So, mostly I skate."

"Really? On ice or on wheels?"

"No," Greg grinned sheepishly. "Board, and if you laugh I'm leaving right now. I have no idea where I am but I'll leave anyway."

Nick's grin was huge. "I'm not laughing. Skater Boy."

Greg ducked his head and Nick could have sworn there was a red tinge to his cheeks, but there was no way that could be true. Except for a minute he looked fifteen years old again and something tightened in Nick's chest. He sobered rapidly and for a second Greg looked panicked.

"It's ok, Greg. I'm just telling myself for the millionth time that I'm an idiot. Did you know that I did call you? I mean it was only twice that I got through and you weren't there, and your mom wasn't exactly pleased to hear from me. After that I couldn't seem to get by the dial tone stage. I've held the phone in my hand so many times …"

"Nick …"

"No let me finish. It turned into this dream you know? And it was hard to remember that you were ever even real. So I tried to get on with my life, and there were periods when I could forget about you for big swatches of time."

Greg put his coffee cup down; he crawled on all fours over to Nick and stopped right in front of him. "When did you remember me? When you were sad?"

"You'd think that would be so, wouldn't you? But I could be having a great time somewhere, with people that meant a lot to me and then you would just …"

Greg knelt up on his knees and Nick's mouth was suddenly so dry that he had no choice but to move his tongue around inside his mouth and wet his lips. Greg's eyes were fixed on his but the moment Nick's tongue darted out he switched his gaze. "I would just what?"

"Pop into my head. And sometimes it would really piss me off, because if there's one thing I really hate it's bad timing."

Greg laughed softly. "Let me kiss you."

"I never wanted you to stop."

It was like free falling into the past and familiarity, except there was enough newness to make Nick want to keep his eyes open for fear he missed anything. He saw the way that Greg's lashes fluttered softly against his face and then open again as though he knew that Nick was looking at him, and he couldn't bare to disappoint his audience.

Deep, deep kisses because they were so very beyond subtle and soft, and Nick ached with the reality of it, and felt a rising panic that he couldn't possibly appreciate it fully. Then Greg's tongue was sliding over his bottom lip and he stopped thinking so hard and just was. There. In the moment. As Greg minimised the distance between them and stopped kissing him for a few seconds just to rest his forehead against Nick's. And it was like Nick could hear his thoughts and he suspected they mirrored his own: this is a bad idea, this is the best idea I ever had and please don’t let this stop now unless you're willing to take the oxygen I'm breathing.

It was suspended animation, a heartbeat, and miraculously years of heartache fell away and it was like there were no yesterdays, only now, and Nick could believe he was back in high school and the only things in his way were his own doubts and fears.

Greg pulled him toward the couch, stripping off clothes, Nick's and his own, and Nick didn't mind him being in charge of that, because Greg's hands were on him and his body remembered that touch. He was willing to swear that somewhere in the neighbourhood there were dogs who could hear it singing with joy.

They still fitted, in that perfect way they always had, even though they had both filled out and gained some height they matched each other inch for inch. Nick soon gave up trying to remember where the nearest stash of condoms were and pulled Greg on top of him. He affected a slow wriggle until their cocks were aligned and wrapped his legs around Greg's waist. His relief when Greg started to move was short-lived because he knew he wasn't going to last long. And then Greg was kissing him again, urging him on with a hot trail up his throat to his lips, and Nick knew with the way Greg's breath hitched that he was near too.

Nick's fingertips pulsed with the feel of Greg's skin under them and his skin hummed with the feel of Greg's hands all over him. And it was sensory overload as his nostrils filled with the scent of Greg and it felt as though Greg was sinking into him one molecule at a time.

"Oh, fuck me …" Greg moaned, and the warmth that spread over Nick's belly was the very thing he needed to come too.

He opened his eyes and Greg was looking at him. It wasn't the look he'd recalled again and again over the years; it was guarded like he really had no idea what came next. The truth was that Nick didn't either, but he didn't want to move or for Greg to move, and for want of something to say, he pulled Greg close and kissed him again. He was encouraged by Greg's eager response and less worried than he should be by his inability to stop stroking Greg's back. He'd always loved the feel of Greg's skin, so soft and always warm no matter how much the temperature had dropped at night.

The kiss was languid and deliberate, and Nick appreciated the lack of urgency and marvelled at how fucking wonderful he felt. It was easy to flip them over so he was on top, and he had no qualms about sliding around in the mess on their bellies until they were both hard again and panting from desire.

"Fuck me," Greg demanded, and the words shot straight to Nick's cock.

He was so hard and the only thing that mattered at that moment was doing exactly what Greg asked him to do. But he still couldn't remember where the condoms were and he hated to break the moment to search for them.

"In my pants pocket," Greg said, and the urgency was back now, so Nick didn't question why he kept condoms in his pants pocket, nor did he comment about the sachet of Astroglide he found in there too.

He rolled the condom over his cock, and even before he looked up he knew that Greg would be watching him. Knew that he wouldn't take his eyes off Nick's as Nick tore into foil and prepared Greg with aching slowness until neither of them could stand it any more. He almost wept as he entered him; there was no way this could be a dream because he always woke up before this part.

Greg snaked his leg possessively around Nick's waist and his hand around his own cock and Nick was lost again as they both started to move. Lost in sensation and emotion, and he couldn't figure out what it was exactly he'd done right to deserve this. The situation felt ephemeral and intangible and he couldn't tell which feeling was worse except that his body really wasn't listening to his head, and his senses were pinging like a brand new pinball machine.

This was Greg, and for a long time he'd thought that he must be losing his mind to hold a torch for so long, but this, this just proved he might still be nuts but at least he was right too.

"Nick, stop it."

"Huh?"

"You're thinking too hard. Just … be with me."

Nick could do that; it was easy once he had to permission to simply lose himself in the moment, to lose himself in Greg. He watched as Greg finally gave in and closed his eyes, his teeth worrying at his lips as though it would keep in the moan he was trying to stifle. Nick leaned forward to capture Greg's lips and swallowed the groan that escaped, that gave birth to more. He didn't speed up his thrusts until the first flush of orgasm started to take him over and he came buried deep within Greg's heat. He covered Greg's hand with his own to speed up his strokes.

"I miss you," he admitted, before he could stop himself. It was too late to take it back even if Greg had heard him, and Greg bucked up into Nick's fist and came with a noisy exhale.

After what seemed like forever, Greg opened his eyes. "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"Robbed."

"Robbed?" Nick repeated, alarmed.

"Power of speech."

"Ah."

Nick was reluctant to withdraw, to lose that connection, because he had no idea if this would ever happen again, and the thought that it might not, that Greg might disappear from his life now as quickly as he had re-entered it was enough to bring him back down to earth with a crash.

"Better now. The blood's flowing back to my brain." Greg sounded tired and satisfied as he pulled Nick's arms around him, and at least that part was reassuring, but then Greg had always been a post-sex snuggler. Nick still didn't want to move, but they were sticky and reeked of sex and lube.

"Shower?" he said, somewhere near the vicinity of Greg's ear, and Greg ducked his head as though it tickled.

"You always were a spoilsport."

And there it was, the third, or thirty-third outspoken reference to their shared past, but Nick didn't want to deal with that right now so he ignored the comment and pulled Greg to his feet and toward the bathroom.

"Come on, I'll wash your back."

He discarded his condom and turned the shower on, and the sudden intimacy, the sheer domesticity of the scene did strange things to his insides. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to welcome Greg into his arms again and kiss him under the hot spray. Somehow, between kisses they managed to get clean, but they stayed in there until the water started to run cold and there were no more excuses to put off the inevitable.

Once they were dry, Nick led Greg to his bedroom and handed him a robe as he pulled on clean pyjamas.

"You get PJ's and I get your bath robe? It doesn't have to be this way; I'm down with nakedness."

"You've had enough nakedness for one night. It's only until you get dressed."

Greg's eyes widened. "You're kicking me out?"

Nick looked at him, surprised. "You're not leaving?"

"I wasn't planning to. At least not until you do what you promised and fill me in on all things current. You make some more coffee I'll make the bed warm."

Nick grinned. "What makes you think I have that much to say?"

"You said it yourself, it's been a while. You don't have to tell me everything right now. We both need to sleep and at least one of us has to get up for work in the morning. I don't know about you, but I need at least seven hours sleep before I can process the important stuff."

The weird thing was that Greg did know all about him, and it was a very comforting feeling. Nick's grin turned Jack 'O' Lantern and he feared his head might fall off from the split.

"Lame, Sanders," he said, and then sobered for a moment. "But I'm in no hurry for you to leave either. You make the coffee and I'll make the bed warm."

"I don't know where ..."

"You'll figure it out."

"In that case, do I get a pair of …"

"No PJ's," Nick said seriously and took his own off again before slipping beneath the duvet.

Greg smiled at him suggestively. "I'll be right back."

***

There was a crumpled Video Box receipt on the pillow next to Nick and when he saw the familiar handwriting on it his heart leap into his throat. Damn it! How could he have slept through Greg leaving? For a few seconds he daren't read it, but a grin broke out all over his face when he did.

You're still a fine piece of ass, Mr Stokes. Call me.

There were three numbers listed: home; work and Greg's cell. Nick squinted at the time on his bedside clock; it was 10.40, and he figured it must be ok to call any time or Greg would have specified when it would be most convenient. He punched numbers quickly and realised that his feelings of happiness almost outweighed his nervousness. His heart still skipped a beat when he heard Greg's voice.

"Greg Sanders."

"Hey, Greg."

"You know, this is bad for my ego. It's almost 11am."

"That depends on how you look at it. I would have called before but I think you broke me last night."

"I did?"

Nick could hear the grin in Greg's voice. "Oh yeah. The question is, when are you going to fix me?"

"I thought I might start with dinner tomorrow night." Nick felt a stab of disappointment that Greg was willing to wait that long and then he remembered that it would be Christmas Eve. "Unless you already have plans."

Nick could tell that Greg's nonchalance was an indication that he could have studied drama rather than chemistry, and maybe it made him a shallow friend, but the guys versus Greg weren't even fair competition. Most of them would blow him off for a chick any day of the week, and fuck them, this wasn't just anyone, it was Greg.

"Nothing I can’t change."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

Greg sounded surprised and happy by that, and not at all like someone wary of the possibility of heartache. Nick wondered if that meant he was naturally resilient or simply incredibly well adjusted. He resisted the urge to run off at the mouth and offer Greg the moon.

"Stop fishing, Sanders. I bet half your office give you compliments on a regular basis. You don’t need ego stroking from me."

"I'm not, I prefer surfing myself." Greg said, but he sounded amused.

"Which makes it even more curious that you would come back to Dallas."

"And now I see that it is in fact you who likes to fish."

"I prefer bungee jumping actually. If you think you're up to the challenge I'll take you with me some day."

"You bungee jump?"

"You don’t have to sound so surprised. Ok, I dreamed about it one time; it felt like fun."

"I can imagine there's a lot of fun to be had with the ground coming up to meet you at a 100 kilometres a second."

"Gravity can be much kinder when you're dreaming. I'd love to have dinner with you. Where and what time should I meet you?"

"You don’t want me to pick you up?"

"How about if I pick you up instead?"

"How about we both get cabs?"

"Ok, deal. Where and when?"

"You don’t have to rush off do you?"

Nick laughed a little self-consciously. "You were my first stop when I woke up, I didn't even make it to the bathroom yet."

"Now I know what they mean when why they say flattery isn’t all verbal. Do you know The Green Room in Deep Ellum?"

"Yeah, out on Elm Street. I've been there before, the steak was good."

"I'll meet you there at eight."

"Wait, how will you get reservations for Christmas Eve on such short notice?"

"I have this feeling you’d make an excellent cop."

"Funny, G, but that doesn't really answer my question."

"Let's just class it as part of my mystique for now, ok?"

Nick decided to let it go, albeit reluctantly, because he liked this side of Greg. It was nice to let someone else take charge for a change, and a little romance wasn't always a bad thing.

"Ok, I'll see you then. I had a nice time last night, Greg. I still can’t believe we ran into each other."

"Me too, see you tomorrow."

Nick hung up with a satisfied smile and reached for his cell phone to key in Greg's numbers. Only 35 hours to go; 35 hours to count down whilst his adrenaline levels rose. He thought it might be time to hit the gym.

~*~

Nick left the cinema and thought about asking for a refund. It was possibly the worst movie he'd seen since Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Not that Robin Hood didn't have it moments; Alan Rickman always provided a good turn but you couldn't call a film good when the main character made you want to kill him and then bring him back so you could bitch slap him before you killed him again. He preferred to watch sport or documentaries, but if he had stayed in tonight he was convinced he would have been climbing the walls.

He checked his watch for the millionth time, time really did crawl if you wanted it not to, and then he slapped his forehead when he realised what a total ass he was; he hadn’t left Greg any of his contact numbers. It was really too late to call him now so he decided to text them on the off chance that he hadn’t blown it.

The drive home seemed interminable and Nick's phone didn’t beep until he was unlocking his front door. He hung his jacket up and tossed his keys in the pot and delayed looking to see what Greg had to say. It wasn't from Greg, it was his brother wishing him happy holidays and asking if he could be a honorary cop so he didn’t have to go home too. Nick knew he was joking and that he wouldn’t really be amused if he find out about Nick's deception. He busied himself with making and pouring himself some coffee, and told himself it wasn't that long since he'd sent his message not really, and there was always the chance that Greg didn’t have his cell on. When his own rang it made him jump.

He snatched it up and rammed it against his ear so hard, that the ensuing feeling of nausea almost outweighed his sense of foolishness. "Nick Stokes," he gasped.

"I know, I called you."

"Hey, Greg. How are you?"

"I'm good. Are you ok?"

Nick laughed, "I'm suddenly feeling great ... Unless you called to cancel our date."

Greg was silent for a moment and when he did answer he sounded amused. "At this hour? I try to only break hearts in the middle of the day. Unless I want to be really dramatic and then I wait until after dinner and stick my date with the check."

"Right," Nick said tightly. This was new; he hated the way he came off sounding so needy, but he couldn't seem to engage his brain before he opened his mouth, and that was new too.

"I would have called earlier, but I wasn't sure you wanted me to when you didn’t offer your numbers so I didn’t ask," Greg said.

Nick relaxed a little. Greg's tone was almost pitch perfect but it wavered enough to let Nick know he wasn't alone in his current madness.

"I know, I'm an idiot. How could I forget to give you my number?"

"I tried directory assistance, just in case, but you're unlisted."

Nick let out an audible sigh of relief now and he didn't even care if Greg did hear it. "It's the best way when you’re a cop, unless you want crazy people calling you up at all hours." Nick kicked his shoes off and settled on the couch. "How was your day today, G?"

"Boring. But there were distractions."

Nick laughed. "Let me guess, you've got a picture of Tom Cruise on the wall by your desk."

"No. Well yes actually, but that isn’t what I meant and you know it."

"Gorgeous co-workers?"

"I'm the only male worker on my team. Score one for the women's movement."

"Are you out?" There it was again, Nick's apparent inability to shut the fuck up.

"Are you wearing any underwear?" Greg shot back.

"Ouch! It's just a question. Greg," he bluffed. "I didn't think it was that personal. I retract it, Your Honour."

"Sorry," Greg said and he really sounded like his cool was cracking too, and for that Nick was grateful. "It's a touchy subject for me. I was out in college but I wasn't exclusively gay and that confused people so it made my life extra difficult."

Nick sat upright so quickly that he only narrowly averted a coffee cup disaster. He soon recovered his equilibrium, even if his head was reeling a little from shock. "You mean you experimented with members of the opposite sex? How'd your folks take it?"

Greg laughed. "It was touch and go for a while, but thankfully it was only a passing phase so they managed. What about you Nick? Are you out?"

"I'm a cop, what do you think?"

"I get you. That stinks. Is there anyone else in your life right now I should know about?"

Nick was stunned. "Hell no! I'm strictly monogamous when it comes to dating."

"I know that, but the chances of you showing up in my life again and being single seem fairly remote. Life just isn’t that neat."

"True enough, but I would have told you if there were complications." Nick shook his head and grinned. "Girls, Greg? I never would have thought it."

"It really was an experiment."

"Carried out on the assumption that it might cure your gayness?" Nick was openly teasing him now so when Greg's silence stretched out too long to be comfortable, Nick worried he'd gone too far. When Greg finally spoke it didn’t make Nick feel a whole lot better.

"I thought it might be less heartbreaking."

It was Nick's turn to be silent as fresh guilt churned in his gut, and he tried to figure out a way to stop the conversation dying on them. "And is it?" he managed, finally.

"Not really. And to make matters worse, the sex is weird."

Nick let out a relieved laugh. He wanted to kiss Greg so badly right at that moment that it made him ache. Greg had always been a brilliant conversationist and in high school he had been able to run rings around Philosophy students and English majors alike. His secret wasn't that difficult to fathom; he stuck to the truth, even if it was painful, and he rarely forgot to have a sense of humour.

"Yeah, I heard that. Makes you wonder why so many people do it."

"So you haven't ever?"

"Nothing more than second base; a woman's breasts can be beautiful things, in a purely artistic way. But then I never wanted to fuck a Van Gogh, you know?"

Greg snorted. "That's hardly surprising. What about a Monet or a Michelangelo?"

"I think Michelangelo is a requirement if you aim to get your gay credentials."

"I don't think it makes any difference, it's all art."

"To be appreciated not fondled?"

"Exactly."

Nick had somehow managed to slide back down into a reclining position and he was enjoying this back and forth between them and he really didn’t want to hang up any time soon, or if he were honest, ever.

"So are your folks living back here too?"

"Nope. After the last move, my mom refused to consider it again unless my dad hooked himself up with a job in England or the Seychelles."

"These are the options? I feel for your dad."

"Cool though, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but then I always did like your mom. Are they expecting you home for the holidays?"

"Not this year. Mom's youngest sister has just had her first baby and thankfully she's too caught up in that to give me a hard time about not going home. What about you?"

"I'm playing hooky from mine. A colleague and his wife have invited me to their house. What are you doing?"

"I haven't decided yet," Greg said, and his voice was guarded

"You welcome to come with me. In fact I'd really like you to."

"Really? I don’t want to crash the party."

"You won’t be, they said I could bring a guest. It's fairly informal round there, and they've invited about ten other people so the spotlight won’t be on us."

"Is that important?"

"Only because at work I don’t advertise the fact I'm gay. Homophobia isn’t exactly a salary bonus and it’s pretty bad in my precinct."

"That's got to be tough."

"It stinks, man, and I fight it where I can. I'm just not ready to make it personal yet."

"If you're serious, I'll tag along. I'd like to observe you in your natural habitat."

Nick laughed. "It's hardly that. But the idea of you watching me anywhere has appeal."

"I'd really like to kiss you right now."

Nick's lips curved upward into a slow spreading grin until he felt like he'd slept with a coat hangar in his mouth. "That's almost exactly what I was thinking."

"Yeah?" Greg sounded like he was bouncing.

"Are you pacing up and down or something?"

"No, I'm in bed actually."

"Oh," Nick said in a strangled voice.

"You can ask me what I'm wearing if you want to."

Nick's eyes glazed over and just like that he was hard. "Stop it. I'm not having phone sex with you."

"Why not? I know; you're waiting until I buy you dinner before you put out. It's too late for that or did you forget already?"

"Greg …"

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because it isn’t what I want. If I can’t have you for real …"

"I want to hear you come," Greg insisted. It was almost enough for Nick to suggest that he jump in his car and go to him.

"Having sex with you isn't only about physical pleasure for me, it never was. I'm not saying phone sex is always going to out of the question, but for now I want to be able to see your face." Nick guessed that would be surprised silence he was hearing and how typical of Greg to have a repertoire of silent emotion. "Ok, I'm going to say goodnight before you get anything else incriminating out of me."

"Don’t worry about it." Greg sounded happy instead of scared, and that had to be a good sign. "I don’t intend to ever use it against you."

"Goodnight, Greg."

"Thanks for the invitation; I'm thinking maybe Santa came early for me this year."

"See! I told you he's real."

"And I'm now a believer. I'll see you tomorrow night, Nick." Greg sounded like he wanted to say more but he didn't.

"G'night."

Nick realised he was holding a cup of cold coffee in his hand but he eschewed the idea of a refill, he was already wired and he doubted he'd sleep at all. Once in bed, he lay awake replaying their conversation over in his mind. He still had a smile on his face when he woke up the next day.

***