Title: Hate Crimes and Cute Little Puppies
By: Ama_Dear
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: After a hard case, Nick comes home and finds comfort in the form of a sleeping Greg.

***

I hate pulling doubles now, especially when we're on different cases, because that means I can't come home with you. Tonight, though, I had to. I can't explain it, Greggo, but I had to. I know you were disappointed, but thank you for not asking why. Thank you, because even now, when I'm home and sitting on the bed less than a foot from you, just watching you sleep, I haven't figured it out yet.

You're adorable when you sleep, do you know that? I'm usually very neat, lying on my side with my hands resting on my pillow, but no, not you. You're sprawled out on your stomach and one of your legs is perilously close to falling off the bed. I don't know how, but you've managed to spread out so your arm is dangling over the other side of the queen-sized mattress. Your head is pillowed on your other arm, and your face is turned toward me. I smile at the creases on your face. No doubt, in your endless tossing and wiggling, you used to be smushed between pillow cases.

I think I understand now. Do you want to know why I forced myself to work later tonight? Because I did the same thing I'm never supposed to do. I empathized instead of sympathized. Most of the murders and crimes we deal with have to do with what you call the Three Bad Boys of Vegas: sex, drugs, money. But, every so often, we do find murders with no other motive than hate. That is what it was tonight, Greggo, hate, and it was hard. I pushed myself to solve it, pushed myself more than I ever have before, and I managed to keep my cool. You'd be proud of me, Greg. I couldn't let this one go.

...I'm sorry I woke you. I didn't mean to, but you looked so calm and peaceful, a figure right out of some cheesy romantic movie, despite the faint snores coming from your mouth. I just had to brush that crazy, uncontrollable hair out of your face. God, you're so cute. I love your eyes. I didn't mean to disturb you, but is it selfish to say that I'm glad you're awake? All I've wanted all day was to look into your eyes and know that it was all going to be okay, and I know that it sounds cliché, but all clichés start with the truth.

"Hey," you yawn.

"Hey," I whisper.

"How was the case?"

"We closed it."

"Good." You yawn again. "Coming to bed?"

"Mm-hm. Go back to sleep, Greggo."

"'Kay."

I change quickly, while you move to make some room for me. I lay down, and you roll over. One arm is now draped over my waist possessively, and your face is pressed into my shoulder. Thank you for not throwing your leg over me as well to spread out, because you know I am never able to get up without disturbing you and making you kick me in your sleep. After that incident last week, you promised to be more careful, and I appreciate that.

I want to fall asleep here with you, so serene, but I can't. I just lay still for a minute, staring at the blank walls of our bedroom. Your breathing is soft and even. I don't want to tell you my story, because I think it will upset you, but I want to talk to you about it anyway. I wait until you are definitely asleep, and I whisper it to you so you can't hear me.

"It was a hate crime, Greggo. Two guys were living together, and they were supposed to leave Vegas the other night. Had a four A.M. flight to California, ain't that sweet? They were moving to San Francisco, getting married and all that. Wish I'd known them before this, I would've told 'em to say hi to your mom for me. I don't care what you say, she's still disappointed. She wanted grandkids, Greg, genetically related grandkids. I guess it doesn't matter, though, because they never made it. The guy I talked to, his name was Victor, and his fiancé was Jimmy. Jimmy was staying at his sister's place that night, and they were going to meet up at the airport. Victor waited there for hours and Jimmy never showed up. He missed the flight, waiting. Finally went home, and found Jimmy hanging from the staircase. He wasn't even strangled first or anything, someone just strung him up."

I stop and take a deep breath. For some reason I keep thinking of Cassie, that little girl who lost her family. I had to explain to her too, tell her how and why her family was killed. This shouldn't be as hard as that was--we don't know this people and hell, you're unconscious--but for some reason it is.

"At first we thought it was just a regular crime, you know? Jimmy had his problems: crazy ex, trouble at work, normal stuff. But it wasn't. God, G, it was insane. They rented their house, right? The next tenant, that's who it was. It made no sense. He only met them once, he would never see them again. Get this--he backed out of the contract and blamed them. Said the building was "tainted by their sin" or some other shit. And if that wasn't enough of an insult, he came back when Jimmy was closing up the house, and... He said it was their fault he couldn't find another place, their fault he couldn't find a home for him and his lovely, perfect Christian wife. Isn't that awful? This guy died because one random person couldn't handle the fact that he had even talked to a gay man. It's disgusting. Aw man, Victor's face... I swear I almost broke down when we told him, right in front of Brass and Catherine."

I pause, and try to shift just a little bit. I move so I have a better view of your face, but I manage not to wake you up. There's hair in your face again, G. You need to get a haircut, because this is just getting ridiculous. I know what you're thinking, and yeah, I do love your hair, but even I have to draw the line somewhere.

"He was broken, Greg. Just broken. He hated himself for it, too, because you know it's awfully hard to be gay by himself. He kept saying it was just pure chance, that it could have been him instead of Jimmy, or it could have never happened at all, it could have happened sooner or happened later, whatever. It was totally random. There was nothing he could have done to stop it, and man, you could see it was just tearing him apart." I touch your hair, staring at the wall again, and try to tell myself that I'm not about to cry.

"You know I thought about you the whole way home? Well, I usually do, but that's not the point. It could have been us, G. I've thought about it before, it just never seemed so real, I guess. I mean, this is Vegas, right? It just seems wrong, that people hardly bat an eye at kids throwing away their reputation for drugs and prostitution, but they consider two good people loving each other a sin. I'm scared, Greggo. I don't want that to be us, I can't even imagine how I would cope, knowing that I lost you for something that stupid. I wish I could say I'd protect you, but there's no way for me to do that. I was thinking about this all day, so I've made a decision. I'm just gonna live each day with you like it's worth the world, 'cause it is. I ... I think I'm gonna call my parents tomorrow and tell them, okay? I know it's killing you to keep this a secret and damnit it's stupid to stay like this. We shouldn't have to hide anymore and if they've got a problem... their problem. Lord knows they've got enough grandkids already, right?"

I've been getting louder. Sorry. I bend down just a little bit and kiss the top of your head, and bury my face in your hair. "Love you so much, G," I whisper. "Thanks for listening."

"You're welcome, Nicky," you mumble. I jump, and you open your eyes, looking up at me with that mischievous smile on your lips, the one that means you got me good. Okay, so maybe you're not as asleep as I thought you were.

"I ... I thought you were..."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"When my pillow's this tense?" you joke, poking my arm. That hurts, Greg. "No way." Then you turn serious, and your eyes soften. "You're really going to tell your parents?"

"Yeah. They've got a right to know, and like I said, isn't six legal marriages and fourteen biological grandchildren enough? I'm yours, and there's no way in heaven or hell that I'm going to let anybody stand in the way of our lives. I love you too much for that, Greg."

"Aw. That's the gooiest, most sentimental shit I've ever heard.

I'm a bit offended that you're insulting what I thought was a very romantic, touching, and poetic thought, but I don't care at the moment, because you're kissing me, softly, gently. I let you take control this time, because I'm exhausted both mentally and physically, but you're tired, too. Too tired to control anything, apparently, so the kiss stays simple and chaste. Did I ever tell you how much I love kissing you?

You are the one who stops the kiss, and you bury your chin in between my neck and my shoulder, so close that your eyelashes are brushing against my skin. "There, you flattered your way to a kiss with all that 'worth the world' fluffy crap," you say, and your breath is tickling me. "Now relax, my pillow, or this will be a long, sleepless night--and not one of the good kinds, either."

I laugh. I can't help it. You're like a puppy, Greg; sometimes annoying and self-centered, but always adorable and eager to please and so achingly loveable, all I want to do is take you home and cuddle you. Do you do this on purpose, Greggo?

"'Kay. Good night, Greg." I kiss your forehead gently. "Love you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You pause for a few seconds, before mumbling "Love you too," under your breath.

God damn it, Greg... why are you so cute?

Slut.

***