Previous part of Don't Fence Me In.

***

It actually only took two hours for Greg and the kids to warm to each other, and all it took was a simple game of Mousetrap. Nick joined in, amused by the fact that his partner couldn't suck it up for even one game and allow the kids win "“ but instead Greg became intensely competitive and at the game's end pulled his sweater over his head and ran around the lounge like a triumphant soccer-player scoring a goal. Max and Allison giggled madly, especially when Greg tripped over his own feet and fell into the couch.

"He's funny," Max told Nick approvingly.

"He can be," Nick admitted, not wanting to stroke Greg's ego too much.

"I'm hilarious," Greg said from the couch, muffled by the fabric still covering his mouth.

This only led to further giggles from Max and Allison, who then launched themselves across the room to jump on top of him and start tickling his ribs mercilessly. Nick knew from experience this would render Greg powerless.

Sure enough, Greg started flailing about. "Nick! Help!"

"You got yourself into this, buddy," Nick teased, winking at Ginny as she entered the room.

"He's being tortured," she said, matter-of-factly. "Shouldn't you rescue him?"

"He's bonding," Nick corrected her.

"Huh." She strode to the couch and picked up a struggling child under each arm, both of them squealing in protest.

Panting, Greg pulled his sweater back down and smiled gratefully as his liberator. "Thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," she turned around and threw the children onto their other uncle. Nick found himself at their mercy, and Greg smiled as he remembered that Nick himself didn't have immunity to the tickle monster.

Nick began howling as the two tiny terrors weighed him down. "Greg, help!"

Greg yawned exaggeratedly.

"Be the better man," Ginny advised him.

Greg sighed, stood, and pulled the children off his flushed partner. Nick sat up again, wiping away the tears escaping from his eyes. "Thanks, man."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Thanks, man," she muttered to herself, "Now, that's romantic."

"What was that?" Nick asked, his hearing as sharp as always.

"Just talking to myself," she replied, as Max threw himself at her. As if she were a goalie deflecting a ball she threw him back at Greg, who caught him and fell back against the couch. Max giggled wildly while Greg looked down at him, amazed at the body wriggling in his arms with such implicit trust.

"He's good with kids," whispered a voice in Nick's ear. He looked up to see Kat sliding onto the arm of his chair, and wrapping an arm around Nick's shoulder both for comfort and support.

"Better than he thinks," Nick replied.

"Mom and Dad filled me in about last night's dramas," Kat continued. She felt Nick stiffen, and made soothing noises in his ear. "Hey, you have nothing to worry about, Nick. Nor does Greg. There shouldn't even be an issue of trust, because I never had any doubts. Neither does Steve."

"Thanks..." he began to say, but she shook her head.

"I could kill those two," she said with a fierce anger belying her calm tone.

"What's done is done," Nick shrugged.

"Not good enough. They're always going to be assholes to you, and now they're doing it to Momma and Daddy as well."

Nick couldn't answer. He needed something happier to dwell upon, and he found it by looking at Greg trying to fight off the attacking forces of Stokes children. Max and Allison were whining for a new board game to be brought out, whereas Ginny was debating the merits of the new Weezer album and whether the band was becoming a solo project for Rivers Cuomo in everything but name.

"Jess has offered to set up a fund to get them taken out," Kat whispered.

Nick's head snapped up, his eyes widened. "She did not!"

"Just seeing if you were paying attention," she grinned. "But you wouldn't be surprised, would you?"

"Hell no!"

Kat clapped her hands. "Okay, kids! Give Uncle Greg a break. It's nap time."

They instantly began protesting, and looked to Ginny for support.

"I'm too old for naptime." Ginny refused to play the game.

They looked at Greg, who decided to give in. "Oh, I definitely need a nap."

Satisfied that they weren't the only ones being punished they allowed themselves to be dragged off to bed, after giving the customary hugs "˜nigh-nigh'. Ginny volunteered to read them a story, and Kat ushered them upstairs. As they disappeared and left the two men alone, Greg gave a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, poor baby," Nick stood and moved onto the couch, taking him into his arms. "Are you all tired out now as well?"

"Kids take a lot out of you," Greg agreed.

"Would you like me to put you to bed and read you a story?" Nick teased.

A glint appeared in Greg's eyes. "No. I want to see the stables."


--------------------------



Jillian had foregone her usual spot in the kitchen to take up residence in Bill's study. She sat in his armchair by the fire, leaning in closer to the warmth. She held Laura's unopened letter, tapping it intermittently against her palm and still debating with herself about what to do with it. She felt torn apart. She loved her daughter, even if they didn't see eye to eye. But her behaviour could not be condoned. Jillian thought of her grandchildren, and the mere thought was quite literally torture. She didn't know how the two young boys were going to think when they grew up, and whether they would accept the lives their parents had decided upon for them or whether they would grow to think for themselves and make their own judgements. But she couldn't give up on them until then. For now, they were still small beings that deserved the love of their grandparents.

And then on the other hand, she thought about the love that would be denied them. Nick was so good with the kids, and one only had to look at his easy relationship with Ginny as an example. And Greg was also a good man who would be an excellent role model for them. But if Laura and Mark had their way, their nephews would not know them. And how could Jillian stand by and let that happen?

She sighed. No easy answer was going to come to her; it might not even be a choice open to her.

"Momma, what are you doing in here?"

Jillian turned around, to find Beth and Jess staring at her from the doorway.

"Sitting," Jillian replied, forcing a smile to try and set them at ease.

It didn't work. Beth moved into the room first and took the chair opposite her mother. "Yeah, but it's rare that you sit in here unless you actually are in here with Daddy."

Jess took the window-seat and stared at her mother with the same air of expectation. "And I don't see Dad anywhere."

"I just wanted somewhere quiet to sit and think," Jillian explained, trying to remain vague.

Before she could even react, Beth leaned forward and snatched the envelope out of her hand.

"Elisabeth!" Jillian protested reprovingly.

"Laura's handwriting," Beth mused, allowing Jess to peer over her shoulder. "What do you think?"

Jess nodded. "Definitely."

"Give it back," Jillian warned.

"Why haven't you opened it yet?" Jess asked.

Jillian glared at her daughters, then leant over and took the envelope back from Beth.

"So read it already," Beth instructed her.

Their mother sighed, and slowly ran her thumb below the flap. Jess' foot jiggled impatiently, and Jillian stilled it with a simple look at the offending body part.

The paper and the gum that held it together separated, and Jillian slid a small bundle of papers out from within.

Beth's brows furrowed. "What are they?"

Jillian bit her lip as she involuntarily winced. "See for yourself."

Beth took the collection from her, and only had to look at the first one to get the gist of them. She shuddered, and silently passed them on to her sister.

Jess glanced at them, and then walked over to the fire and threw them onto the flames. As she sat back down, Jillian took up the poker from its stand and pushed them into the depths of the tiny inferno. The glossy brochures promising redemption from unnatural lifestyles through church rehabilitation centres acted as a prime fuel and the flames shot upwards.

"I'm glad she didn't leave any addressed to Nick or Greg," Beth finally said.

Jess jumped up. "I'm going to check the Christmas tree."

Beth watched her leave, open-mouthed. "She honestly doesn't think Laura would have left those as Christmas presents for the boys?"

Jillian shrugged. "Would you be surprised?"

Beth leaned in and took her mother's hand. "I don't want to give in to paranoia, but I guess not, anymore."

"I just can't believe she thought I might read them and try to convince Nick to go to one of those places."

"She doesn't know any of us very well then. I wish there was some kind of damn centre to save brainwashed assholes."

Jillian looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, although she was refusing to shed any tears. "Please don't talk about your sister that way."

"Momma, you're too forgiving."

"It's not that easy, Bethy."

Her mother's childhood nickname for her softened Beth somewhat, and she sat back.

Jillian looked into the fire, and stirred it to make sure that all remnants of the brochures were dissipated, so that they would never be found. "She didn't even write a letter to try and explain herself," she said sadly. "That's how far it's gone, she doesn't even feel she needs to defend herself."

"I don't want to stick up for her," Beth said, tucking her feet beneath herself and suddenly looking about fifteen years younger. "But I think that she's mainly defending Mark, and the only way she can do that is by defending what he said, even if she may not fully believe it herself."

"Do you think that's true?" Jillian asked hopefully.

"I hope so," Beth couldn't unfairly get her mother's hopes up. "I guess I can't believe that our own sister could turn on one of us like this."

"I can't ignore my grandchildren," Jillian placed the poker back in the stand. "I feel like I'm betraying Nick, but I'm going to go out there and see those kids on Christmas morning."

"Nick would never think you were betraying him, nor would he want you to distance yourself from those kids. I think it hurts him enough that he's being kept from them, and he wouldn't wish that upon you."

Jillian found herself smiling. "He's a good man."

"He is. And those kids are going to miss out. And from the look of it, they're going to miss out on one of the best uncles they could ever have with Greg as well."

"Maybe not forever," Jillian said wistfully.

Beth didn't know how to respond, and luckily she was interrupted by Jess returning.

Slightly out of breath, Jess returned from the living-room. "Nothing was left there by Laura."

"That's a relief," Beth let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

"Nick caught me fossicking under the tree though. He now thinks I'm a dirty present-guesser."

To her daughters' relief, they heard Jillian give her first genuine laugh since they had found her in the study. "He always used to be so uptight about that as a child."

"As a child?" Beth snorted.

"He never grew out of that, Momma," Jess agreed.

"In fact, I heard he told Greg off for giving him a present early before they left," Beth giggled. "It just wasn't the thing to do, apparently. Greg tried to offer that if Nick gave him a present that they would be even, but Nick refused to even think about it."

"Some things never change," Jillian said. Her tone suggested both happiness and the bittersweet realisation that things did change. And that nobody ever had any control of that.

***

Nick could only laugh as Greg excitedly pulled him up the path towards the stables.

"Slow down, cowboy," he teased.

Greg threw a look over his shoulder. "After what you told me about this place, you're lucky it took me a full day to get you up here. In normal circumstances it would have been less than an hour."

"It's a stable, G."

"I need to make my mark on it."

"What are you, a tomcat?"

Greg suddenly stopped, and Nick collided with him. "I can be, as you well know." He flashed him a cheeky grin full of innuendo.

Nick shook his head. "You scare me sometimes."

They set off again. "Only in the best way," Greg breathed.

"I feel like I'm in high school all over again," Nick complained.

"At least there's no homework."

"Knowing you, you'll probably set some."

Greg halted at the door, taking in the smell of the horses, and the hay that was warmed by the sun streaming through the slatted windows on the second level. "Wow," was the only comment he could make.

"You are such a city boy," Nick ragged him.

Greg was captivated by the light whinnying sound from the other end of the stable, and released Nick's hand. He made his way slowly to the horses that watched him thoughtfully from their stalls. His approach and unfamiliar smell spooked them slightly and they retreated further into their own stalls.

"Hey, Diablo," Nick said softly, overtaking Greg and stretching out his hand in greeting to the closest horse. Greg marvelled at how the horse instantly responded to his partner, totally at ease with him even though it was lucky if it saw him once a year. Nick's expression had totally changed, his face was almost younger as he stroked the velvety nose and then produced an apple from his pocket. He twisted it in half and laid one piece on his open palm to allow Diablo to gingerly take it from him.

"I thought you looked like you were packing heat," Greg couldn't resist saying.

Nick gave him the "˜oh, you' look that crossed his features roughly seventy-four times a day, and then pulled him closer. He placed the other apple-half in his hand. "Your turn."

He laughed as Greg suddenly looked nervous.

"It's a horse, not a rattlesnake."

"Yeah, with teeth that would have given Red Riding Hood sober pause."

Smiling, Nick laid his hand under Greg's and lifted it up towards Diablo.

Greg gave a gentle laugh as Diablo's nose tickled his fingers and then swept upwards to close in on the fruit. The apple disappeared instantly, and Diablo went in for a second sweep-over to make sure there was nothing more and Greg delighted in the small butt of the nose that signified displeasure at that fact.

In the next stall over, Loco stamped her foot impatiently.

"I haven't forgotten you, Loco," Nick grinned, producing a second apple from his other pocket. He deftly twisted it, and looked affronted when Greg began to laugh. "What?"

"Just look at you, Mr Country."

"Stop lusting after me."

"Am I going to get to see you in a Stetson any time today?" If Greg had been a Warner Bros cartoon his tongue would have been hanging down to his knees and his protruding eyes poking Nick in the shoulder.

"If you play your cards right." He handed Greg one half of the apple and this time there wasn't any hesitation as Greg bounded up and stuck his open palm directly beneath Loco's nose. She reared slightly, but the smell of the fruit calmed her down and she took it gladly although Greg earned a slight nip on his thumb for his impertinence.

"Yeowwwch!" Greg yelled, shaking his hand in an effort to dispel the stinging.

"He didn't mean anything, girl," Nick whispered, offering his own piece of apple. Loco took it gently with an insulted harrumph.

"I didn't mean anything?" Greg asked. "Talk about biting the hand that feeds you!"

"She's more skittish than Diablo. I told you, Diablo's a honey."

"Well, if we go riding, I'm definitely taking Diablo."

"Sure thing. Shall I show you the second floor?"

Greg nodded, and turned to follow him, but not before he gave one last look at Loco. "We'll talk about this later."

"So, you're pissed because you've found someone who hasn't instantly fallen under your spell?" Nick paused beneath the large ladder that lead up to the second level.

"You took your time, if I remember correctly."

Nick gave him a small wink which instantly turned his legs into rubber. "I was smitten from the start."

"Smitten? Shame it took you three years to make a move."

"You could have made one."

"I did "“ everyday!"

"Oh, boo hoo. Get your ass up there." And Nick swatted him on it for added measure.

Greg scaled the ladder like a monkey, all long limbs and agility. Nick watched him, his mouth dry at the delectable rump only slightly visible below the hem of his jacket. Even after all this time, they could still affect each other so easily.

Greg's Converse sneakers disappeared from view, and Nick started up the ladder after him. Greg watched him, his eyes glazing over at the strong veins popping up along Nick's forearms which were exposed as his sleeves pulled up. He reached down and helped him over the last couple of rungs, running a thumb over one of the pulsing ridges at the same time. Their chests collided and they fell over onto one of the bales of hay.

The sun lazily warmed them as they lay there, not speaking for a moment but simply looking into each other's eyes, awed at how the other looked in the golden light.

"You look like a painting," Greg sighed. Nick's thumb ran over his lips, and Greg bit it gently.

"You're acting like a horse." Nick pounced upon him eagerly, and nibbled at Greg's lower lip. A throaty moan issuing from Greg made him suck it lightly before pushing past Greg's teeth with his tongue. Greg's hands ran down his back and one pushed beneath his jeans and stroked his ass.

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky..." Greg writhed beneath him, and suddenly Nick found himself flipped over onto his back and Greg rolling on top of him. Greg's hands were now balled into fists within his jacket as he slid it upwards and exposed Nick's stomach. Strong kisses trailed across his abdomen and Nick almost shot upright when the tip of Greg's tongue flitted within his belly button. Greg looked up and smiled wickedly, one hand unbuckling Nick's belt and then unbuttoning his jeans.

"G, what are you doing to me?" Nick moaned.

"I told you before "“ making my claim." And then Greg's warm mouth was upon him. Nick gasped for breath, his fingers twisting in Greg's hair. Being out in the relative open with the fear of discovery, it didn't take that long for Nick to climax under Greg's gentle humming. Falling back against the hay, spent, Nick tried to control his breathing while Greg tenderly buttoned him back up and buckled his belt. He then pulled himself up beside Nick, and lay with his head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. Nick wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his sweaty brow, and kissed the top of Greg's head.

Greg returned the kiss eagerly, and groaned when Nick pulled away. But he felt a familiar tug at his jeans. "What are you doing, Nick?"

Nick paused, his hands halfway in Greg's pants, and looked up at him with a smirk. "I'm making my claim, too."

Greg felt his toes curl within his sneakers as he lay back down, his eyes glazing over with Nick's tender reciprocation.

-------------------


Greg awoke with a start. The sun was in full force upon them now, so they must have been out of it for a couple of hours. He looked at Nick, asleep next to him with a slight snore issuing between his lips.

"Wake up, babe," Greg crooned, stroking his chin as if he was a cat.

The tip of his tongue protruded, his eyes creased, and Nick was awake. "Shit! How long have we been asleep?"

"Long enough to feel rested, not long enough for your family to report us missing," Greg replied.

Nick smiled at the long piece of hay sticking haphazardly out of Greg's hair, and pulled it out.

"Y'know, hay always looks so soft in the movies," Greg said, scratching at the many points where he had been poked and scratched during sleep.

"You get used to it," Nick shrugged. "During summer we used to sleep out here a lot as kids. We would just pick out a bale each and throw our sleeping bags on top of it."

Greg smiled at the thought of a mini-Nick and mini-Beth dossing down for the night while the horses whinnied below them. "Sounds idyllic. Before it became your perverted place of sexual fumblings during adolescence."

Nick chuckled. "It didn't happen as many times as you would like to think." He drew Greg in closer to him. "Anyhow, you've rechristened it, so now it's got happier times associated with it."

"Happier times?" Greg asked, and he watched Nick's expression change as he realised his slip of the tongue.

"Oh, you know, kid stuff. Nothing, really."

"It's something."

"Well, you know most of the story, anyway." Nick said, remembering the inevitable conversations couples always had about past partners. "This... was where I first did anything with a guy."

Greg nodded. "Marcie's friend? That happened here?"

"He was over here helping her fix her car. She had gone inside to help Momma with something, I don't remember what. I was in the stables feeding the horses, and I realised he was watching me from the doorway. He didn't even say a word, just one moment he was there and the next he was kissing me."

"Did you like him?"

"Honestly, I had never really thought anything about him. I was sixteen, and wasn't even thinking of girls either. It was all about cars and football."

Greg snorted to himself. "Such a boy."

"Yeah, Mr Chess Club President," Nick mocked.

"Little do you know. The Chess Club was all about the sex."

"Uh huh."

Greg sighed. "Okay, it was all about the game. But a good checkmate is better than an orgasm."

Nick raised an eyebrow.

"Fine! I was a geek who never got any! Are you happy?"

Nick slipped a hand underneath his jacket and rubbed the small of his back. "If I'd known you in high school, you would have gotten plenty."

It wasn't lost on Greg that his partner still looked sad. "Your story doesn't have a happy ending."

Nick looked away. "No. I was kissing him back just as hard... I don't know how he read me, because like I said, although I knew I liked guys and girls, I hadn't... considered him in that way. It was like the hormones just kicked into overdrive, and my body was taking over my mind and not letting it think or act logically. Then he had my pants around my knees and well..."

Ordinarily Greg found Nick's reluctance to speak about sex charming, but he was actually feeling a kind of horror at the moment. "Did he give you a chance to"“"

Nick looked at him. "Hey, it was nothing like that. It was just two kids getting carried away. He came on strong, sure, but I wanted it."

"What happened afterwards?"

Nick sat up and leaned back against another hay bale. "He wiped off his mouth, and went back to the car."

"He didn't say anything to you?"

"Nope. And he went out of his way to make sure he was never left alone near me again."

Greg sat up and wrapped his arms around him. "That's really fucked up, Nicky."

"I can't blame him. I didn't approach him, either. We just pretended it never happened."

"I guess it wasn't easy for either of you."

"It's what makes us grow, right?" Nick said, almost dismissively.

"Still doesn't make it nice," Greg shrugged.

"Well, wherever he is, I hope he has his own Greg," Nick flashed him his brilliant smile.

"You big softie." But Greg couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. He sprang like a cat and tackled Nick back into the hay and kissed him passionately. "Jeg er din*," he breathed.

Nick knew immediately what he was saying, and replied, "Soy el tuyo*."

Greg laughed. "Du er min.**"

Nick nodded. "Usted es el mío**."

"You better believe it."

Nick arched up into his kiss. "I do," he whispered between breaths for air.

"Friend or foe?" called out a voice below them.

"The Stokes!" Greg shook his fist in mock fury, and Nick smothered a laugh.

They both peeked out above the bales to see Marcie standing at the bottom of the ladder. "Hey, guys!" she waved innocently. "You're not going to make a woman in my condition climb up there, are you?"

"Could be amusing," Greg said to Nick.

Nick poked him in the ribs. Hard. "We're coming down," he called out to his sister.

"Did she ever know...?" Greg whispered as Nick stood and patted himself free of hay.

Nick shook his head. "I don't think they were friends for much longer after that."

"What are you guys whispering about?" Marcie yelled up the ladder suspiciously.

Nick began his descent down the ladder as if he was abseiling. "Your huge stomach!"

She gave him a swat on the ass. Greg wondered if that was a Stokes trait, or if it just came from watching too many years of football.

When Nick hit the ground, he swung around and gave her a huge hug.

"Hey, what's that for?" Marcie asked, happily.

"Because you deserve it," Nick replied.

As Greg appeared beside her, Marcie looked at him wonderingly. "I don't know what you've done to Baby Stokes over the past few years, but you've done good."

Greg smiled. "I'm happy to take all the credit."

Nick groaned and grabbed his partner in a headlock, mussing his hair wilfully. Marcie held her belly as she laughed at the simple sight of two people in love who still couldn't keep their hands off each other.



* I'm yours.
** You're mine.

***

Jess leaned in to Greg, and gave him a little nudge with her shoulder. "You're in for a treat tonight, there's going to be a Stokes Cook-out."

Greg looked at her blankly. This family loved their patented extravaganzas. Stokes Rough and Ready Touchdown™, Stokes Cook-out®. What next, the Stokes Family Quilting and Beading Renaissance Faire™?

She raised an eyebrow. "It's a huge and serious thing, Greg. Enough food to feed a small nation, all cooked in the open air. A large bonfire, guitar-playing, a singalong. Maybe even some dancing."

Greg gulped. "Please tell me, not line-dancing?"

"You're in Texas," Gray said, settling into the chair next to him. "There's always line-dancing."

Jess suspiciously fingered a corn-chip, wondering whether she should eat it or not, and looked at Gray. "I don't think this boy's ever done line-dancing."

Gray snorted, and addressed Greg, "You've been with Nick, what, three years?"

Greg nodded, a hole in his stomach.

"And he's never taught you to line-dance?"

"Nope, I didn't know he knew how," Greg shook his head fervently, his brain working for him for once, repressing the Thank fuck that immediately wanted to follow his brief sentence.

"Vegas has changed our little bro," Gray said mockingly to his younger sister.

"We'll have to remedy that," Jess agreed, finally chomping on the chip.

"Surely not everybody likes line-dancing in Texas," Greg tried in his defense.

Beth materialised next to him and dove into the bowl of chips. "Uh-uh, everybody does."

"Surely not Ginny. She seems like a sensible person." And there goes the repression of bad sentences.

Three sets of eyes regarded him with bemusement.

"Actually," Beth threw herself down onto one of the lounge chairs, "Ginny loves to line-dance."

"No!" Greg was truly shocked.

"I heard my name!" Ginny yelled from somewhere in the distance.

"Get out here!" her mother hollered, between corn chips.

Ginny appeared on the back porch, from within the house. "What?"

"Tell Greg you like to line-dance."

"Are you kidding?" Ginny's eyes flashed immediately. "I love to line-dance."

And Greg's mouth dropped open as she launched into an impromptu display, her incongruous Doc Martens stamping out a rhythm on the floorboards. She giggled to herself as her hair flew loosely about her jerking head.

"She looks like... she's enjoying herself," Greg said weakly..

"There's no escaping it," Ginny admitted. "The music starts, your feet begin tapping, and it has you in its thrall. It'll get you, too. Besides, it's in our genes."

Greg shook his head. "Never." He remembered that he was a scientist and added, "Besides, I can test your genes and disprove that theory."

"They all say never," Jess grinned, smacking Beth on the knee. "Remember the first time Gray brought Sally home?"

"She was such a good East Coast girl," Beth giggled.

"You promised her you would never bring it up again once she learned properly," Gray warned them both.

Greg stood up, with all the dignity he could muster. "Well, I hate to disappoint you all, but it ain't gonna happen with me."

"Okay, Greg," Beth teased.

"I have a reputation to uphold," Greg told her.

"The rhythm's gonna get you!" Ginny stamped her feet for effect.

"I shouldn't tell you this, but Nick even bought you a hat," Gray said.

Greg looked at him in horror, desperately seeking proof that the man was joking.

There was no proof to be found.

"I've gotta go," he said, and ran for the safety of the kitchen before they could say anything else.

"They're all crazy," he whispered to himself, before going in search of Nick.

-------------------------


"Nick, you haven't, um, bought me anything. Have you?"

Nick was crouching at the back of the television, trying to wire up the sound system that the family had bought Bill and Jillian. Even though it had been for their anniversary months before, nobody had set it up for them, and his parents had been too busy to even contemplate taking it out of the boxes. "For the last time, G, you'll find out what I got you for Christmas on the morning itself."

Greg crouched beside him in exasperation. "Not as in Christmas presents, buttmunch. And you're doing this all wrong! Move!"

Nick bit his lip, amused at Greg's mood, and moved out of the corner he was currently painted into. Greg took his place, and began removing cables and twisting wire. "Nicky, you really botched this up"

"Well, I'm sure you'll fix it."

"Of course I will. Hand me that clipper."

Nick did so. "Now, what were you going on about earlier?"

"Oh, that." Greg began shaving some of the plastic casing off the wires so he could twist them around the audio outlets. "You haven't by any chance bought me a big dorky cowboy hat, have you?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "It's called a Stetson. And yeah... I have."

Greg glared at him. "Why?"

"For fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah. Lighten up."

"But I'm not a cowboy."

Nick smirked. "Really? Couldn't tell."

"It'll make me look like an idiot."

"No it won't. Especially when you wear it with the matching shirt I got you."

Greg slammed down the clippers. "Matching shirt?"

"Is there an echo in here? It's for fun, Greg. We're having a stereotypical Texan cook-out. We dress up, sing, dance, eat. It's a spectacle. I thought you wanted to see me in a Stetson, anyway. That's what you said earlier."

"Yeah, I wanted to see you in one. Not me."

"I think you'll look damn sexy. You might get lucky."

Greg savagely jammed a cable into its socket. "Don't try and get me that way, Nicholas Stokes."

"Don't you remember how I had to eat pinnekjøtt in Frisco with your grandparents? You said you owed me."

Greg's shoulders slumped. "I was hoping you had forgotten that, you big baby."

"Forgotten it? It was dried meat on a stick that was then rehydrated!"

"Well, you liked the hjortebakkels, anyway."

"They were donuts! Everybody likes donuts!"

"Fine, fine. So you didn't forget."

Nick grinned. "No, I didn't. I'm calling it in, baby."

"Damn it," Greg hissed. He sat back, defeated. "Okay, this is ready to go."

"Already?" Nick asked, amazed.

Greg cocked an eyebrow, insulted. "You doubt me?"

Nick reached for his hand, and pulled him over. "Never."

Greg bent down and picked up the remote. "Try it."

Nick activated the television, and sound blared through the six different speakers placed around the living room.

"Done!" Greg said, triumphantly.

He was rewarded with a brief, teasing kiss.

"Is that all?" he asked, disappointed.

"Wear the hat." Nick grinned. "And there'll be more."

"Well, if I'm wearing the shirt as well, there better be more than kissing."

Jillian entered the room, her hands over her ears. "I take it you fixed it for me?"

Nick hit the mute button. "Sure did."

"I knew you could."

Greg whacked his partner up the side of his head.

"Hey!" Nick protested. He looked to his mother for support. "Did you see that?"

Jillian tipped a little wink to Greg. "See what, Nick, dear?" She left the room again, laughing to herself.

"You've fucked up now," Greg whispered in his ear. "I'm wearing my Weezer t-shirt and leather wristband tonight."

Nick glared at him, and then ran after his mother, desperate to tell her about Greg's expertise in an attempt to win his partner back on side. Alone in the living room, Greg bit his lip and wondered how much of a fool he was going to look like in five hours time.

--------------------


Nick volunteered himself and Greg to take the pick-up truck to the local supermarket to grab some odds and ends for the night's cook-out. Greg didn't realise that "˜odds and ends' for such a large family could amount to three cart's worth of groceries as he and Nick struggled to keep them together as they manoeuvred around the aisles.

Nick had to bite his lip to stop laughing as Greg fumbled between two carts, one hand on each, trying to keep them from rolling away. He looked like he was being drawn and quartered by bizarre metal horses.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

"I have it under control," Greg said, trying to maintain his dignity but failing. One of the trolleys finally escaped him and rolled into Nick's stomach. "It's criminal, really," Greg said, still on the defensive.

"What is?" Nick winced, rubbing his stomach.

"This much food!"

"There are a lot of people back at the ranch, G."

"But your mother's pantry is barely Old Mother Hubbard's as it is," Greg countered.

"No, but you know what mothers are like. They would always rather overcompensate than have one person say they feel like more."

Greg looked at him suspiciously. "You're thinking it would be me!"

Nick grinned as he threw four packets of cheese supreme Doritos into one of the trolleys. "Either you or Jess."

"You can put away the food when you feel like it," Greg pointed out. "Especially if you've had a few beers."

Nick nodded, and gestured at the trolley. "Hence, the Doritos."

"Better stick in a few more," Greg glowered.

Nick flipped him the bird, and Greg couldn't help but laugh.

"Nick? Nick Stokes?"

Both men turned, Greg with immediate interest and Nick with immediate dread. He had no desire to be seeing anybody he knew once upon a time. Friends he liked and wanted to keep around were still in his life, anybody else was just ballast he would rather keep overboard.

His familiar aww shucks smile was plastered on as he sized up the pretty, blonde woman in front of him. "Amber Johnson! Why, hello!"

Greg smirked at the obvious dismay apparent only to him underneath Nick's tone.

"You're the last person I expected to see here!" Amber was practically twirling her hair in an unconscious display of flirtatiousness appropriate only in high school.

"I'm at my folks for Christmas," Nick said civilly.

"Me too. Isn't it the pits?"

"I like my parents," Nick replied stiffly.

"Well, of course! Your parents are lovely!" Amber said quickly. "I always loved going over to your ranch."

Her words made Greg straighten up and stand to attention. Really?

"I heard you were working in Las Vegas. That must be exciting!" She was desperately vying for some form of extra attention from him now, as she leaned onto her trolley giving a more accessible view of her ample chest. Even though it was covered by about three layers of winter clothing.

Greg rolled his eyes mentally. Surely if she had known Nick at some stage in his life she would know that he was practically impervious to anyone throwing themselves at him. Greg could speak of three years history of lab flirting to back that one up.

"It can be," Nick realised he was lacking in the politeness stakes. "And... what do you do?"

"Oh, I run my own business. Nothing as interesting as being a cop!"

Greg couldn't help himself. "CSI," he corrected her.

She acknowledged his presence for the first time. Finally. "Excuse me?"

Nick became aware of the fact he hadn't made any introductions. If Jillian was there, she probably would have whacked him over the ear for forgetting such a basic social nicety. "Amber, this is Greg Sanders. He's also a criminalist. He works with me in Vegas."

Greg so didn't want to fall into the trap of feeling like the slighted, wounded boyfriend. He kept his expression neutral. "Nice to meet you," he lied through his teeth.

"Likewise," she lied back, turning her attention back to Nick. "You're always too sweet, Nick, bringing a Christmas orphan home to the ranch."

Now Greg felt really offended, but he still kept quiet. Which was difficult given the swiftness of his tongue which sometimes outstripped his brain.

Nick smirked. "Greg's no orphan."

"No?" Amber looked back at Greg, then back to Nick.

"No. He's my partner."

Greg made a good attempt at covering up his pleased expression. He knew Nick was getting better at being more open, but he wasn't expecting an outing in a Texan supermarket. Should he be nervously looking for the nearest exit? Was Nick armed?

Amber's brow furrowed. "Oh, I didn't think you... criminalists... had partners. Like cops?"

Nick gave a small laugh, and reached down to take Greg's hand. "No, he's my partner."

Greg held his gaze, afraid that if he looked at Amber he would either laugh or be sliced in two by the laser-like stare of her narrowed eyes.

"Oh," her lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Well, that explains a lot about high school, then."

"Excuse me?" Nick asked.

"Merry fucking Christmas!" she exclaimed, turned on her heel and walked off.

"That's a lot of bitterness for something from so long ago," Greg noted.

Nick shrugged helplessly. "I mean, just because I was a gentleman, and didn't force myself onto her immediately..."

"Immediately?" Greg asked, wondering if he even wanted to know.

"Well, at all... I mean, we fooled around a bit, but..."

"Yeah, okay, I get it. Second base. You can stop there."

"G..."

"Nick, I'm amused more than anything. You just outed me as your boyfriend in a Costco."

"You're more than my boyfriend. I'm just... offended. I mean, just because your parents raised you to be respectable ..."

"I know, Nicky. You're just that kinda guy. Old-fashioned and sweet."

"It's just wrong."

"Do you want me to go after her and tell her that it took you ages to put out with me as well? Restore your reputation?"

Nick's mouth hung open, and Greg waited to see which way this was going to go.

Thankfully, Nick rolled his eyes and began to laugh. "Would you?"

"Did she go left or right?" Greg turned his back on him and began to walk away.

Nick reached over and turned him back. "You really would."

"Of course I would. I would defend you to the ends of the earth," Greg said earnestly. "As long as I could take the car, though, "˜cos I really hate to walk."

Nick flashed him the ASL sign for "I love you", a long-running joke between them. Greg returned the double-barrelled signal for "Rock on", and they both laughed. Nick fished in his pockets for the keys and handed them over to Greg without a word.

"You're letting me drive?" Greg asked with a cheeky grin. "Now I know it's love."

Nick whacked him in the butt with one of the trolleys. "Come on, let's get all this back home."

***

It barely seemed like there would be enough room for them to fit into the car once they had crammed in the grocery sacks. Nick had been mostly silent since the confrontation in Costco, and Greg felt sorry enough for him to jingle the car keys before his eyes.

"Do you wanna drive?"

"Nah, it's cool," Nick declined in a soft tone, and climbed into the cab.

Greg bit his lip, and pushed the stacked carts back into the holding bays.

When he opened the driver's door and threw himself in, Nick was staring straight ahead and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Greg inserted the keys into the ignition but didn't start it. He clapped his hands on his knees, and turned slightly to face his partner. "Tell me."

"Nothing to tell," Nick mumbled.

"Well, you know I normally think you're smokin', but this time I think it's your pants," Greg remarked with a light smile.

Nick raised an eyebrow.

"I know it's got to do with Little Miss Sunshine in there."

Nick could only sigh in response.

"Oh, for..." Greg thumped the steering wheel in frustration and melodramatically laid his head upon it.

Nick reached a hand out toward him, but drew it back as Greg suddenly arched back up and glared at him. "How long have we been together? I'll tell you, long enough for you to tell me what's on your mind without having to drag it out of you every single fucking time!"

Nick smiled at him. "You finished?"

"Don't give me that goddamned irresistible grin, and no, I'm not finished! You're so..."

"G..."

"I mean, I'm not stupid! I know exactly what's wrong, but you want me to bring it up so that you can then talk about it, for god knows you could never say it without some form of coaxing"“"

"G..."

"What?" Greg asked, in exhausted exasperation.

Nick sighed, and let it fall out in a quick jumble of words. "I succumbed to a fit of pride, because I felt like my masculinity had been questioned, okay?"

"Finally!" Greg moaned.

"Feel better now?"

"Do you?"

"Not really."

"Why do you care what some bint from high school thinks about you? She's not in your life anymore, and hasn't been since then."

Nick reached for his hand. "Because she's... a representative of everybody I knew back then. So of course I'm going to freak out a little when it's the first time."

"Yeah, well, it feels a little like you're embarrassed. Which makes you embarrassed of me by default."

"Oh for..." Nick echoed from earlier, and pulled Greg closer to him. "Never embarrassed of you. But you know what, G? We're both men. And although it sounds like an excuse, we're subject to brain farts that take us back to prehistoric times and we get pissed when people question our manhood. I've seen you do it too."

"When? I'm cool about being a sensitive, new-age guy."

"So you've forgotten about how you came home whining the night that the stripper called you harmless?"

"Oh," Greg muses, "That."

"Yeah. That."

"Fine. Okay. You're right. We're men, we're prisoners of our own testosterone. Blah blah blah."

Nick's breath was warm against his ear. "If I was embarrassed by you, I wouldn't have outed myself to the whole of my parents' local Costco."

"It was hardly the whole of Costco, it was more like half an aisle."

"Okay, I'll ask if I can use their intercom." Nick pulled on his doorhandle, and was halfway out when Greg pulled him back, laughing.

"You idiot."

"Hey, you were about to take off after Amber and defend my honour."

"Close the door, it's freezing," Greg instructed him.

Nick did so.

"Now, kiss me and tell me I am the best boyfriend ever."

Nick did so.

-------------------------------


After the food had been taken into the walk-in pantry (a mammoth task which had required Nick, Greg, Gray, Beth and Ginny doing two trips each between the truck and the kitchen), Nick dragged Greg up to their bedroom with a barely-concealed smile.

"Shut your eyes, G," he instructed.

Greg complied, unwillingly. "I have the feeling that this isn't going to be what I'm hoping it will be."

"Maybe not right this minute," Nick teased.

Greg could hear him pulling a drawer open and closed, then the sound of the closet doing the same. He shifted from one foot to the other, impatiently, not liking being on the receiving end of something he had no preparation for. He felt Nick return to him, could smell his cologne and deodorant as his arms reached around him and something settled onto his head and over his ears.

He groaned inwardly, now knowing what it was.

"Open your eyes," Nick breathed.

"Don't want to," Greg mumbled. He could still feel Nick's presence extremely close to him "“ the waves of body heat. He was probably crossing his arms defensively now "“ or was it the exasperated hands on hips, fingers splayed, pose?

He peeked under his lashes "“ it was the exasperated hands on hips, fingers splayed pose.

"I can see you looking at me," Nick sighed.

Greg relented and opened his eyes fully. Nick was now grinning, and he moved away from the mirror.

"Ewwwwwrrrrggggh," was Greg's strangled response as he caught sight of himself. The black Stetson was slightly too large for him, and slipped down, covering his eyebrows and pushing his ears out even further. He looked like a ten year old playing dress-up.

"I think you look cute," Nick said approvingly.

"Cowboys are meant to be rugged, manly and sexy," Greg argued. "Not cute."

"I like my cowboys cute," Nick argued, embracing him from behind and meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"Oh, God, is that why Toy Story is one of the few Disney films you can watch?" Greg asked in horror. "Do you have the hots for Woody?"

Nick rolled his eyes, and ran his hands down to Greg's hips, then across to the waistband of his cargo pants. He pulled Greg's shirt out and left it hanging below his sweater. Greg turned to face him, and pushed the rim of the hat up with his knuckle, imitating the macho way cowboys did so in the movies.

"So you really like this, huh?"

Nick lifted up a finger. "Just one more thing."

He pulled away, and lifted a brown-paper parcel off from the bed.

"I like the fact that the hat is black, at least," Greg mused. "Does this make me the bad guy? And are you going to wear the white hat?"

Without a word, but a grin, Nick began pulling the paper apart.

Greg was aghast as the shirt billowed out from beneath the paper. "No way!"

"You don't like it?"

It was a monstrosity. The clichéd cowboy shirt... with contrasting white fringe below the yokes and the dark blue hem of the pocket.

"C'mon, G, you're in Texas."

"Yeah, well, when I was in Germany I never wore lederhosen."

"I bet you did."

"Okay, but it was Oktoberfest. It was tradition!"

"So's this!"

They faced off, at opposite sides of the room. Greg sighed heavily. "Is everybody else going to be dressed this foolishly, er, I mean culturally?"

"I even bought myself a new shirt," Nick told him.

"Are you wearing a hat?"

"My old one is still in my closet here, so, yeah."

Greg stared at him. "I think I need more persuading."

Nick grinned wickedly. "Really?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, I didn't mean it that way."

But Nick was advancing on him, shirt in hand. Greg remained rooted to the spot, knowing that he really had no way to get out of this and accepting that he had to go along for the ride. Nick was now in front of him again, and toying with the hem of his shirt. He slid one hand between his sweater and his shirt, and the other between his shirt and the skin of his stomach beneath it. Greg shivered slightly at the touch of the hand he knew so well, and his vision was obscured as his sweater was peeled over his head.

"I really like this shirt," Nick whispered, "But it looks even better off you."

Greg moaned lightly as the hand left his stomach, and Nick undid the top button of his shirt. He kissed the nape of the now-exposed neck, and his hands worked upon the remaining buttons. Greg's hands were clenching by his sides, and he finally brought them to Nick's back and drew him closer. Nick's hands moved to his shoulders, bunched up under the material. He massaged Greg's skin, and Greg knew he was almost at the point where he would cave in to whatever Nick requested of him.

Nick's lips trailed down his torso, and Greg sucked in his breath as Nick teased his nipple with his tongue and then sucked on it fully. His legs began to buckle, and Greg now knew he would do anything Nick wanted.

"O..kay... I'll wear the shirt..."

Nick looked up, his lips moist. Greg shuddered.

"Really?" Nick asked.

Greg nodded shakily.

Nick gave a tender kiss to the other nipple so it didn't feel left out, and snapped into business mode, briskly pulling the shirt free from Greg's body. "Okay, let's get this one on you."

Greg felt like he had to sit down, there was no strength in his legs. "Wait, that's it?"

"What?" Nick was shaking the Western shirt free of creases.

"You are such a fucking tease!" Greg protested.

Nick lifted one of his arms, as if he were a mannequin, and started wriggling the shirt sleeve over Greg's hand and up his arm. "I learned from the best."

Greg struggled for a reply as his partner manoeuvred him into the rest of the shirt and began buttoning the cuffs and the front itself.

"Mmm, I like you even better in this shirt," Nick whistled appreciatively.

Greg peeked around him to look back in the mirror. "All I need is the pull-string hanging from my side!" he wailed.

"G, look at me," Nick instructed.

Sighing, Greg did so.

Nick's eyes were earnest. "Have I ever let you make a fool of yourself?"

"You couldn't stop me if you wanted to," Greg pointed out.

"I meant, have I made you make a fool of yourself?" Nick corrected.

Greg's shoulders drooped. "No."

"I think you look damn sexy."

"You said everybody's dressing up, right? This isn't some humiliating rite of passage into your family where I go downstairs like this and everyone's in black tie?"

"I'm about to change, myself," Nick agreed.

Greg raised an eyebrow, and quickly his hands were under Nick's shirt and undressing him.

"Let's see how you like it," Greg growled, throwing him onto the bed.

Nick, as it turned out, liked it just fine.

-------------------


Greg couldn't help but laugh at the two cowboys staring out of the mirror. Nick was the picture of authenticity, while Greg still felt like the impostor or a college student on the way to a costume party. But he could tell by the flush of Nick's cheeks and the glint in his eyes that he was happy with Greg's appearance, and it was only this that convinced Greg he may not be greeted with gales of laughter when he walked down the stairs.

Of course, he could expect a few digs, as it was family (and Stokes family at that) and it was expected of them, but it would be lighthearted and affectionate with no meanness behind it.

"Ready, cowboy?" Nick asked.

"Shore thang, pardner," Greg replied with an exaggerated twang.

Nick had to practically push him towards the bedroom door as Greg was having a last-minute fit of stage fright. They made their way down the stairs, and instantly were blinded by the flash from Ginny's camera.

As Greg blinked like an owl the first thing he saw was the Stetson hanging around her neck, attached by a knotted leather strap. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hoo ha," Ginny cooed, fingering the rim of his own hat. "You must be the bad cowboy."

"What does that make Nicky?" he asked, gesturing towards Nick's chocolate brown headgear.

"Morally ambiguous," she replied.

Greg scoffed at this, Nick was a white-hatted cowboy if ever there had been one.

"You ready for the shindig?" Tony asked, joining them with Beth hanging onto his arm, resplendent in their own costuming.

"The shindig, the hoe-down and the hootenanny," Greg replied confidently

"He's so not ready," Nick smirked. "He has no idea what's ahead of him."

"As long as there's no Nutbush City Limits or Achy Breaky Heart, I think I'll be fine."

"Please, we may be country," Ginny scowled, "but we're not that country."

"He probably thinks Gray and I are going to perform the duelling banjos once we drink some moonshine," Nick teased.

"And then we'll chainsaw massacre the young teenage hitch-hikers we picked up earlier." Beth rolled her eyes.

"You're all very funny," Greg groaned. "Can we go now?"

"We're still waiting for the wagon to arrive," Tony informed him. "For the hayride."

"Hayride?" Greg asked dubiously.

The stomping of two small pairs of booted feet echoed above their heads. "Hayride hayride hayride!" Max and Allison screamed as they appeared at the top of the stairs.

"How else do you think we're going to get to the campsite?" Kat asked, following her children.

"Campsite?" Greg echoed.

"Relax, it's only three-quarters of a mile over the hill," Nick laughed. "But it's always been a tradition that we ride out there in a cart, ever since we were kids."

"The kids get a kick out of it," Ginny agreed, hugging her squirming niece and nephew close to her.

"Everybody gets a kick out of it, no matter how old they are," Kat poked her niece, forcing her to admit it.

"So, Greg, nice hat," Beth said, finally.

"Really nice shirt, too," Gray said, appearing with Sally. His shirt looked exactly the same. If they had been women, they would have been embarrassed to be caught wearing the same thing at the same event, so Greg instantly decided, on behalf of his chagrined masculinity, not to make an issue of it.

"It looks almost natural on you," Jess teased. "You still look just a little too mortified to be entirely comfortable."

"I am mortified," Greg mumbled, and received a gentle poke in the ribs from Nick for it.

"You'll lose that once you get some white lightning in you," Nick smiled.

Before Greg could reply the sound of horses' hooves came from the driveway.

"Maybe it's the Headless Horseman coming to save me," Greg hoped, in an aside to his partner.

"This is Texas, not New York."

"Chupacabras, then?"

But Greg had to admit that walking out onto the porch to see Diablo and Loco pulling a rickety old wagon filled with hay lifted his spirits, and he was beginning to enjoy himself already. Jillian and Bill sat on the front seat, looking all the world like a modern-day Ma and Pa Wilder as their children, in-laws and grandchildren began to pile in behind them. There was a cacophony of excited cries and conversations that Greg couldn't really decipher one from the other. Nick easily jumped into the back, then turned to give him a hand up. They seated themselves next to Ginny, their legs hanging over the open back, and as the wagon lurched away from the porch Nick fell slightly into Greg. Greg snaked an arm around his waist and kept him there, smiling happily as they made their way to the campfire.

***

Above the hubbub of the Stokes family talking cheerfully, and the comforting sounds of the wheels turning and the horses hooves against the dirt road; Greg could still hear the music and see the flames of the campfire long before they reached the site. Steve was doing some last minute adjustments to the decorations and cooking pit "“ Greg could see him from some distance away by the reflection of his silvery cowboy shirt from the fire flames. The music, of course, was the twang of some country band that Nick liked but Greg always tried to tune out of his head. About the only country that Greg could stand to listen to were the Dixie Chicks and some Johnny Cash, and truth be told Nick had grown a little sick of Greg's exaggerated accent as he sang along in Nick's truck.

As soon as the wagon had rolled to a stop, they jumped down and helped Max and Allison out, who ran straight away to their father. Bill appeared beside Greg and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "So what do you think, Greg?"

Greg voiced his approval immediately, and Bill smiled warmly before leaning in confidentially and whispering, "Not as embarrassing as you thought, hey?"

Greg coloured slightly, mumbled something incoherent and fled for the relative safety of his partner's side. Bill's laughter followed him.

Everybody worked without a scheduled workplan, but they all knew what to do. Bowls were uncovered, saran wrap was lifted off salads, meat was thrown on the grill and drinks were retrieved from a huge pit filled with ice. Friends of the family arrived, and Greg was introduced to a dizzying array of faces that blended into one another. For the most part they seemed cool when it was established exactly who he was (well, except one couple, although they covered it up quickly), and Greg knew that even if they weren't they would have never dared let it show to Bill and Jillian.

Gray and Nick kept constant vigil over the bowls of corn chips, beers in one hand and the other left free for constant dipping. Greg smiled at the brotherly bonding, and was blindsided by Max and Allison who demanded his attention for ghost stories by the campfire. Greg excited them a little bit too much with his scientific descriptions of decomposing corpses and how the young girl and boy who stumbled across them were aware of "˜the infestation of maggots in the stab wounds, and the petechial haemorrhaging around the eyes'.

"I thought petechial haemorrhaging was caused by strangulation?" Ginny asked, her Coke raised as if it was in place of an eyebrow.

"These bodies were stabbed and strangled," Greg replied promptly.

"Cool!" Max and Allison cried appreciatively.

"Poor corpses," Ginny mused. "Cruel death."

"It happens," Greg said defensively. "How do you know about petechial haemorrhaging anyway?"

Ginny shrugged. "I read a lot of Kathy Reichs and Patricia Cornwell."

"Bah, they're amateurs."

Ginny shook her head, hiding her smile. "Jealous much?"

"I could write a novel to put them all to shame," Greg boasted.

"Then why don't you?" Ginny asked.

"I will... eventually."

A hand rested upon his shoulder, and Greg smiled up at Nick and leant into his body warmth. Nick passed him a beer, which he accepted gratefully.

"Is he boasting about becoming the next New York Times bestseller again?" Nick asked of his niece.

She nodded, beyond words.

Nick chuckled. "Will you hurry up with that, G? I would love to become a man of leisure and live off your millions."

"It takes time," Greg grumbled.

"It would probably get done quicker if you didn't spend your spare time watching crime drama rather than writing it." Nick swung around and whacked him with the edge of his butt so Greg would scoot over and make room for him on the log.

"It's called research, Nicky," Greg took a swig of his beer.

"If that's what you wanna call it, Greggo..."

"Do I have to bring up your addiction to the Discovery Channel?"

Ginny watched on with interest. "Oh, God, you guys bicker like twelve year olds. You sound like my parents, and I thought you were way cooler than that."

"We're cool," Greg said defensively. "We'll stop now."

He cocked his head suddenly as the music in the background suddenly swelled in volume and he could see a group of Stokeses and friends congregating on the makeshift dance floor.

Oh no, his stomach whispered as it fell to the floor with a thud only audible to him.

Ginny clapped her hands together mischievously. "It's time!"

Greg could feel Nick's breath against his ear. "Rite of passage, babe."

Greg shook his head so vehemently he whacked his partner in the cheek with his chin. Nick winced and rubbed at it while Greg made earnest apologies. Nick stood, and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Well, how could I resist THAT? Greg sighed inwardly and slowly took the hand that was offered to him. Nick gave him a huge grin and led him towards the dancefloor, where everybody had already assembled into neat and orderly rows. Greg's stomach was still in knots as the lines started moving in unison.

"Just watch me, and follow," Nick instructed.

"Easier said than... well, you know," Greg countered.

As if he was an audio track out of sync with onscreen action, Greg was a move behind everybody else as they danced. A light sweat broke out on his forehead as he tried to memorise the moves so he could stop looking like the odd man out.

Heel, toe, step, step together. Heel, toe, step, step together. Step to the front, step to the back, turn left, scoot right foot, triple step. Left turn, don't kick Nick! well, not too hard a kick, anyway... left turn, grape vine left, right turn, right turn grape vine right, heel, toe, step... turn scoot! Damn, I'm the only one scooting. Beth's laughing at me! Triple step, damn, now I'm behind, they're turning and I'm not! Which way do I turn? Fuck! Okay, grape vine left, I caught up. Thank God. Will this never be over? It just keeps going on!

"You're getting the hang of it, babe," Nick whispered, "You enjoying yourself yet?"

"About as much fun as getting chewed out by Grissom," Greg lied. For truth be told, his adrenaline was pumping and the endorphins actually meant he was enjoying himself somewhat. He grinned as he observed that his Converse and Ginny's Docs stood out amongst a sea of boots. As he started thinking less and less about the moves he managed to establish a rhythm and stay mainly in sync with the others. He caught Gray giving him a thumbs-up motion at one point and flushed with a strange pride. He promptly turned right when everyone else turned left and found himself crashing face to face with Jess, who cracked up when he spun around really quickly, hoping no one else had noticed.

The music came to an end and everybody paused to applaud their own efforts and congratulate one another. Greg found himself in a mass of Stokes siblings babbling to him about having made it, and with more practice he would be the best one on the floor. It was a comforting lie, and Greg wasn't really intending to become the best linedancer in Texas but he bashfully accepted the praise.

The music started again, but Greg felt a slight pressure on his arm, and Nick was escorting him away. "I thought you deserved a break," and then he leaned in closer to whisper, "And you definitely looked hot out there."

Greg blushed even further, and they made their way to the drinks pit. "The Texan air is definitely doing something to you, Nicky."

Nick's smile could have brought ships to safe harbour on a stormy night. "I'm just happy, G."

"Good. Me too."

They returned to their log, and Nick lazily rested his head upon Greg's shoulder, bringing him in closer for warmth. They watched the dancers and laughed when the music became more raucous and Gray started swinging Ginny around as if she were a side of beef. Her screams echoed around the hills, punctuated by fits of mirth. As the song ended, Jillian interrupted to proclaim all the food was ready, and the dancefloor was evacuated as promptly as if it were last call for lifeboats on the Titanic. Greg's stomach was rumbling, and Nick could hear it through his layers of clothing. They languidly stretched and made their way to the tables that were groaning under the weight of the food and began to pile their plates high.

"I think this food is going to affect my alcohol intake," Jess grumbled, coming up behind them.

"Plenty of time left for drinking, sis," Nick drawled.

"And dancing, right, Greg?" Jess poked him in the back with a sly grin. "You looked like you were getting the hang of it out there, although my crushed boobs may say otherwise."

"Just following the pattern once it was established," Greg admitted. "And, er, yeah, sorry about that."

"One of us, one of us!" Jess chanted under her breath as she spooned some coleslaw onto her potatoes.

Greg tried to think of a good comeback, but had to let it slide. He just gave her a heartfelt smile and grabbed two thick slices of bread.

"Maybe I can convince you to do a slow dance later," Nick said hopefully as they made their way back to their seat.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Nick Stokes?" Greg asked, sitting down and beginning to methodically put a sandwich together.

"You don't like this?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do, I do... it's just... too good."

"Too good?"

"I'm used to our lives being angsty and full of horrible things. I'm not used to you being happy all the time, and flirty in public, and singing and dancing..." Greg trailed off, knowing he wasn't explaining himself the way he wanted to..

"You make it sound like this is a bad thing," Nick said guardedly.

"No, I'm happy!" Greg said earnestly. "I like you being this way... I just don't want Vegas to drag you back down again. I'm not saying you have to be this way all the time, god, nobody can be on all the time... just we've been through so much lately."

"I know," Nick said softly. "I think I'm finally starting to get back a bit of myself, you know?"

Greg smiled at him. "I know."

"I think I was trying to pretend it wasn't missing. I needed some time away to realise it."

"It only took two days," Greg pointed out.

"Things are getting better, G."

"They were never bad between us, Nicky. And y'know, things might get bad again. Knowing our luck, they probably will. But we're us, remember?"

"I remember," Nick said. "That, I never forget."

"Maybe we just shouldn't go back to Vegas," Greg mused, around a mouthful of his sandwich. "It's nice to think of just staying on here."

Nick almost choked on his food. "G, I really hope I didn't hear you suggesting we should move in permanently with my folks. I love them and all, but..."

Greg began to laugh. "Just feeling the love out here, man, that's all."

"I hear you." Nick set his plate down by his feet. "It's so much more than I expected, even despite Laura and Mark."

"Why is it that we tormented ourselves so much before letting people know?" Greg asked wistfully. "I feel like we existed in a vacuum before. As nice a vacuum as it was..."

"Well, now we can have the best of both worlds," Nick's hand rested upon his partner's hip. "Live and work in Vegas, but we'll always have Texas."

Greg groaned at the cheesiness of the line, but secretly loved it. "You're going to have to ply me with more alcohol before I can accept a line like that."

"You love it," Nick grinned, seeing right through him. "But I'll be more than happy to grab you another beer."

"Keep it up, and I'll even dance with you again."

Repeating what Greg said to him earlier in the day, Nick nuzzled into his neck, "It must be love."

The music swelled up again, and despite their full stomachs some of the more die-hard dancers began to hit the floor again. Greg winced, and tugged on Nick's jacket. "Hurry up and get the beer. I really need to be drunk to dance again."

Nick got to his feet and Greg made eye contact with Ginny, who stamped her feet and raised a dust cloud. The rhythm's gonna get you, she mouthed, her eyes laughing even more than her mouth. Greg rolled his eyes at her, and made sure his sneakers stayed immobile. For the moment.

***

Next part of Don't Fence Me In.