Previous part of Don't Fence Me In.

***

As the night wore on, spirits continued to ebb and flow; and at the moment it was definitely at a point where people were tiring and more content to sit back with food and drink, chatting contentedly with one another. Max and Allison lay sleepily curled in their parents' laps, and Ginny was staring into the bonfire with her eyelids at half-mast. Only two couples, Nick and Greg, and Tony and Beth, were on the dance-floor. The music was slow and waltz-like; Nick and Greg were moving only in an attempt to hold each other up as fatigue was overcoming them. Nick's hands kept slipping down Greg's back as Greg kept stumbling beneath his grip, and then he would have to hold Nick up as he fell against him. They laughed lazily, and watched Beth and Tony do the same beside them.

"Maybe we should sit down," Nick suggested.

"No, too tired to move," Greg protested softly.

"We are moving, G," Nick pointed out.

"I'm happy here," Greg replied.

"Me too."

"See, Nicky, this is better dancing than what I was subjected to before."

"Won't argue with you about that, Greggo," Nick agreed, pulling him in closer even though it seemed as if there was no space left between them. He swung Greg around slowly, almost lifting him bodily as his heels seemed to leave the ground and he felt as if he was being dragged along on the tips of his toes.

Greg looked out beyond Nick's shoulder and saw Jillian and Bill watching their children on the dancefloor, smiling at the spectacle. Then he noticed the older couple sitting beside them – the same ones who had pursed their lips slightly when introduced to him earlier in the night, and given their hands hesitantly in greeting – staring at him and Nick with open distaste. If Jillian and Bill were to look to their left only slightly, the couple's naked hostility would be noticed immediately. He hoped silently that they wouldn't, and dropped his gaze so that they wouldn't follow his own and be led to it by his own doing. He buried his head in the nape of Nick's neck and felt his heart beating quicker than it had seconds before.

Nick pulled back slightly, feeling the difference. "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing," Greg reflexively slipped into a dreamy smile so Nick wouldn't cotton on. In light of their earlier conversation, he didn't want anything to ruin the content place Nick had allowed himself to reach. "I think I do need a time out, after all."

Nick drew him back in once more. "Sure thing."

Greg glanced once more at the couple – they were still glaring. Feeling a flush of anger, but hoping that Jillian and Bill wouldn't notice, he defiantly stared them down and cupped the back of Nick's neck almost possessively. Nick began to move them off the floor, and Greg finally looked away. As they passed Tony and Beth she leaned into them and triumphantly announced herself as the winner of the dance-off marathon.

"This was a dance off?" Greg asked, as Nick threatened, "We'll be back."

They shuffled off into the half-darkness and sprawled out on a rug near where Gray and Sally lay. Gray was absentmindedly stroking the guitar case next to him.

"He's waiting for Steve to make the first move," Nick nudged Greg.

"So there will be duelling banjos?" Greg asked, not-so-innocently.

Nick laughed and cuffed him playfully.

"I think you also promised moonshine," Greg reminded him.

"No moonshine, but there's plenty of beer still."

"My back teeth are swimming in beer, but I'll take a Coke."

"Your wish is my command," Nick jumped to his feet, and almost fell right back down on his butt thanks to the disorienting effect of the alcohol he had been consuming.

"Showing the same grace that he did on the dance floor, it's Nick Stokes!" Gray yelled across to them.

"Maybe I should switch to Coke as well," Nick admitted, blushing slightly, then pointing ominously at his brother.

Greg laughed, and as Nick staggered off, he found his attention drawn back to the couple. They were no longer focused upon him and his boyfriend; they were talking to Jillian and Bill, but Greg could tell from the set of their mouths that it was not a pleasant conversation. Their body language denoted a cool civility, but there was an underlying hostility. He could tell from the gleam in Jillian and Bill's eyes that they were controlling their emotions so that they could hide the unpleasant conversation from any onlookers. But Greg was a natural observer, and his talents had only been honed with his years in the field. He quickly scanned the group to locate where Nick was, but thankfully he had been distracted by the drink pit and Steve was talking to him with great animation, his guitar case in hand. A quick look around showed that practically everybody was distracted by somebody else.

When he turned his attention back to the two couples, he met Jillian's eyes. They quickly flickered over to where Nick stood, then back to Greg, and then back to their friends. Bill now took the other man by the arm, and started to lead him away. Jillian and the woman followed, and Greg shook his head slightly. Maybe he was being paranoid, but all the evidence seemed clear as to why they were leaving. Or, rather, being urged to leave.

Nick was still talking to Steve, and with a slap on the back Steve moved on to convince Gray it was time for a sing-along and Nick was bending down to pull Cokes out of the pit. Greg let out the breath he was holding and had recovered a natural rhythm by the time Nick was back and thrusting a cold can into his hand.

"It's time for the duelling banjos," he said cheerfully.

"Well, I sing better than I dance," Greg said, with forced jollity.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're okay?"

Greg summoned up every last ounce of strength to sell it. "I'm just worried that between my dancing and your singing, we may get sent home early."

"Hey, I sing all right!"

"Oh, babe, of course you do," Greg sniggered, popping the tab of his Coke and thinking of all the off-key warbling he had been forced to endure coming from their shower and in the cab of Nick's truck.

Nick seemed convinced for now that all was right with their world, and Greg just hoped that Bill and Jillian would be able to keep a lid on it as well. Couples always wanted to lay claim to honesty, Greg mused, but sometimes it was all about protection as well. He knew there were times when Nick also did it for him, and it became part of the deal to play along with it just as much for the other person as yourself.

It made him think of that great quote from The X-Files, where Mulder said, "I would never lie. I wilfully participate in a campaign of misinformation." He wondered if he should get that printed on a t-shirt.

"You're drifting off again," Nick warned. "Sometimes I'm scared to even guess what you could be thinking about."

"Fox Mulder?" Greg admitted.

Nick shook his head. "See!"

"Don't worry, Nicky. You're the only law enforcement type for me. And you already have the uniform." Greg heard the gentle strumming of a guitar being tuned and looked over to see Gray and Steven, their heads bowed over the instruments. "Did you never learn the guitar?"

"I fooled around with it some in high school," Nick shrugged, "But I found it too much to try and keep up with sports and grades and everything. I don't know how Gray managed, really."

Greg became aware of Jillian and Bill returning, without their friends, to the campfire. Jillian's eyes met his again, and he quickly looked away. He felt guilty, even though he knew he really shouldn't. But it struck him again how much Nick's parents were having their own issues to deal with, and how much they obviously loved their son. He stole a quick look at Nick, and wondered why he had ever doubted their love for him or why they would defend him. He was Nick, it was that simple. And they had made Greg part of that equation as well, and he was honoured, and he was touched by it.

As Gray and Steven started to play the opening chords to a song, the music from the stereo was turned down, and the confidence from the players grew as they began to sing:

Oh give me land, lots of land
And the starry skies above
Don't fence me in
Let me roam through this wild
Open country that I love
Don't fence me in*

Greg was surprised that it was a song even he knew himself, and voices from around different vantage points of the bonfire began to join in.

Let me be by myself in the evening breeze
Listen to the murmurs of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please
Don't fence me in

They were singing it much slower and more melancholy than Greg had previously heard it, and he wondered if maybe that was why he was responding to it on a much more emotional level. As he heard Nick's voice rise beside him, the realisation struck him. At this point of time, after what he had been through, this was Nick's song. Maybe Greg was approaching it from a dime-store psychological viewpoint – but the irony of a man who had been buried alive only months previously – now singing a song about a man dreaming of release from imprisonment was disquieting. Was anybody else having the same thought?

He reached for Nick's hand, held it in both of his, and began to sing along.

I want to ride through the ridge
Where the West commences
Gaze at the moon until I lose my senses
I can't look at hobbles
And I can't stand fences
Don't fence me in

Nick turned at the sound of Greg's voice, and the wonder in his eyes was naked and open. He smiled, and his voice grew louder, and Greg's replied in unison, until it seemed like the both of them were singing a benediction which rolled over the hills and towards the sky.




* Don't Fence Me In, music and lyrics by Cole Porter

***

The campfire was dying, and Steve had loaded a sleeping Max and Allison into the back of the wagon so he could drive them back to the ranch-house and put them into a proper bed.

"Anybody want a lift?" Steve offered. "Last call."

Kat, Ginny, Jillian, Bill and their friends acquiesced; but everybody else decided to stay a while longer. Gray half-heartedly poked at the fire but it was obvious that there was no real way for it to be resuscitated unless someone could be bothered to get up and retrieve new firewood. Nick had burrowed himself against Greg and was half-asleep. Greg stroked his hair and stared into the dying fire.

"You getting cold?" Nick mumbled.

Greg shrugged. "A little."

"Do you wanna go back?"

"I'm just as happy here."

He felt Nick's hand crawl up his knee. "I seem to remember earlier in the day that I promised to warm you up if you wore the hat and the shirt."

"I don't think it was a promise to warm me up," Greg grinned, "I think it was more an indication that I may get lucky."

"Warm, lucky, what does it matter?" Nick flashed him his killer smile.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I think you're too drunk to be able to do anything besides fall on the bed and snore the night away."

"Oh, really?" Nick asked mockingly. "Would you like me to prove it?"

"Yeah, old man, I don't even think you'll be able to make it to the house without stumbling onto your drunken ass at least three times," Greg teased, poking him in the chest.

Nick made as if to bite the offending finger, but his reflexes were way too slow at this point.

"Aah, you shouldn't have started on the beer again, Nicky."

"Shut up, and help me up."

Greg laughed, and got to his feet, glad that he had had the sense to start drinking Coke. At least with one of them semi-sober they should end up back at the ranch safely, rather than collapsing seedily into a hole somewhere for the night. And ever since their time caught out on Mt Charleston overnight,* Greg had had quite enough of The Great Outdoors. Nick staggered slightly as Greg helped him up, causing Gray to snigger from where he was sprawled out on the blanket closest to them. Sally shushed him by placing her hand over his mouth, which he must have licked because she began laughing with a mixture of affection and amused shock. Greg guessed that that must be a drunken Stokes trick, as he had already had his fingers nipped in playful abandonment.

They made a general goodbye to all those left at the campsite, and Gray yelled after them to watch out for the coyotes. "They've been known to carry grown men away!"

Greg knew he was joking, but he couldn't help asking Nick if it was true.

"The dingo got my Gregggggoooo," Nick drawled.

Greg burst out laughing. Of course he naturally found Nick amusing, and often got to see a funny side of him that not everybody was aware of at the lab, but there were times the man could just floor him.

"I'll protect you babe," Nick whispered.

"Maybe I'll be the one who protects you," Greg countered.

"I know you do," Nick brought him in closer for warmth, even though this made their walking more difficult. "You might think I don't notice, but I do."

"Well, you do the same."

"You've done it a lot more recently."

"It's not a competition, Nicky."

"I know." Nick leaned in and brushed his lips against his cheek. Greg stopped walking and turned his head so that their lips connected. Nick's kiss was tender, his tongue gently parted Greg's lips and Greg opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Maybe..." Nick said between breaths for air, "...maybe we should stay here at the ranch."

Greg laughed. "Or, maybe we'll just increase our number of visits here."

"Sounds good," Nick beamed at him, took his hand, and they began walking again. "Hey, G?"

"Hey, Nick?"

"How did you know all the lyrics to Don't Fence Me In, anyway? I mean, it doesn't seem your kinda song."

"You know that I have a wide taste in music," Greg defended himself.

"But lonesome cowboy tunes sung on the wide prairie?"

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me."

Nick stopped him again, coming in for another kiss. "Not yet, but soon," he said, devilishly.

"You are so fucking drunk!"

"Come on, G, tell me," Nick whined, trailing kisses down his neck.

"Fine. David Byrne did a cover of it."

Nick looked up. "David Byrne?"

"The lead singer of Talking Heads? Oh, Nicky, I still have so much work to do with you."

"Mmm, teach me," Nick said, diving in to his neck again.

"He did it for the Red Hot + Blue album."

"Heh, you're red hot, do you know that?"

"And you're close to talking blue," Greg rolled his eyes.

Nick suddenly stopped sucking on his neck, and looked up, distracted. "Okay, but you also knew the words to Dixie."

Greg grinned. "Find me any kid raised on Warner Bros cartoons who doesn't know the words to Dixie."

Nick smiled indulgently. "I'm so glad my family doesn't know your knowledge of civil war history comes from Foghorn Leghorn."

"Hey, it sounds much manlier than admitting your mother forced you to watch Gone With The Wind too many times with her as a kid."

"And The Yellow Rose of Texas?"

Greg smiled, lost in memory. "My mom was also a huge John Wayne fan. So you can't help but pick up that kind of stuff over the years."

Nick began to laugh. "Your mom? A John Wayne fan?"

"Yep. She even had one of those goddamn ugly photo mirrors of him hanging in the hallway. She cried the day Papa Olaf accidentally broke it."

Nick took Greg's face in his hands and earnestly whispered, "You're fucking perfect, do you know that?"

"Nobody's perfect, Nick."

"You are to me."

Embarrassed, but fired with love, Greg could only mumble, "You too."

He laughed as Nick howled like a coyote at the moon and then screamed, "I love you, Greg Sanders!" In his exuberance he managed to pick Greg up easily, and swung him around until they both stumbled into the dirt.

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

Stirred out of his half-sleep by the passionate howl that echoed into the valley of the campsite, Tony sat up and shook his wife. "Was that a coyote?" he asked, fearfully.

Beth smiled at her husband, and drew him back down to her. "Calm down, city boy," she stroked his hair affectionately as he settled against her again, "It was only a Stokes."

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

Somehow they managed to make it the rest of the way home, and Greg realised that Nick was sobering up, but his level of playfulness remained constant. At one point on the stairs he had Greg up against the wall, covering his neck with kisses; and Greg tried valiantly to fight him off with whispered protestations about the sanctity of the family hallway, which only made Nick laugh.

"You won't be smiling like that if your dad comes out to check what the noise is," Greg teased.

Nick silenced him with his own mouth, and Greg began pulling him back up the stairs to the safety of their bedroom. As he closed the door behind him, he heard Nick murmur, "So sleepy."

Greg opened his mouth to reply as he turned around, only to find his partner lying face-down, spread-eagled upon their bed.

"Oh no," Greg groaned. "No, you don't!"

He walked over to the bed and stared down at Nick. "I am not putting you to bed as if you're a baby."

No response, except heavy breathing.

Greg sighed, and began pulling off Nick's boots for him. He almost fell flat on his ass as they were harder to get off than he thought, but luckily (or unluckily) he hit the armchair behind him. Rubbing his butt with a scowl on his face, he then stripped off Nick's socks. He stood back for a moment, kicked off his own Converse and socks, then gently lifted the string to remove the hat from around Nick's neck and hung it on the hook on the door next to his own. He made his way back to the bed and half-crawled over Nick, struggling to turn him over so that he lay on his back. His mouth fell open, and Greg winced; awaiting the snore that could follow, but it appeared he wasn't at that stage yet.

"This wasn't how I expected the night to end," Greg grumbled as he unbuttoned Nick's shirt and pulled it off him, before moving onto the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his jeans. "I could use a little help here." He laughed softly to himself and pulled the jeans down and off. "Doofus." He made to move away and fold up Nick's clothes before attending to himself when Nick's arm shot up and grabbed him. Before Greg could say anything, he was flipped down onto his back and Nick was covering him with his own body; smiling beautifully down at him before beginning to stroke his cheek.

"Fooled you, mi amor hermoso**."

Greg laughed. "You asshole, you were awake the whole time?"

"I was enjoying having you undress me," he ran his finger across his jaw and down his neck to the first button of his shirt.

"I would have done it for you anyway, even awake."

"It seemed more fun this way," Nick gave a gentle kiss to each of the moles on his cheek.

"Fucking weirdo," he gasped as Nick ran his tongue down his neck to his adam's apple.

"You're overdressed for this," Nick growled.

"That's your fault."

"I should fix that, then."

"Please do," Greg invited him, desperate to feel skin against skin.

"You know," Nick said suddenly, stopping all action. "This may be a little weird, with my parents down the hall."

Greg grabbed his face with both hands. "You're not teasing me twice in one night, man."

Nick grinned wickedly and began kissing him again. Greg moaned slightly as Nick's hand slid underneath his shirt and began pulling the snap buttons apart. He pulled him half up with one strong arm to yank the shirt off, and Greg finally felt the warmth of Nick's chest against his own. He let his own hands slide down Nick's back and began pulling down his boxers while Nick worked at his jeans until they were both free. Nick rolled them over so they were closer to the bedside chest of drawers, and reached down to pull out the bottom drawer as quietly as he could while Greg attacked his neck with reckless abandon.

Greg bit Nick's shoulder gently as he felt slick fingers between his legs. Nick brushed his cheek against Greg's chin to raise his head and kiss him again. He felt Greg stiffen slightly with the first entrance of his fingers, then move against him again, nodding his approval for Nick to go further. When Greg's half-stifled moans turned more pleasurable Nick knew he was ready.

Neither of them were out-and-out screamers in the bedroom, but they both had their volume levels at their lowest as they were mindful of their surroundings. Their mostly silent and intense exploration of each other made them more aware of the smallest intake of breath, every stifled moan, the restless movement of their hips flexing against each other, framed by the blue-tinged moonlight coming through the window.

When Nick was within him, Greg pulled him closer and hooked a leg behind his hips, helping to control Nick's motion. They thrust slowly and pleasurably against and with each other, whispering words that were half-heard but the meaning was more than evident. It didn't seem as if it was that long before they were resting against each other, sweating, spent, but satisfied.

Greg lay back, as incapable of movement or speech as he usually was after sex, while Nick disappeared into the bathroom and then re-emerged with a damp washcloth to clean them up. Greg let Nick wipe him clean, knowing Nick enjoyed doing it as much as he himself enjoyed receiving this affectionate sponge-bath. Nick tossed the cloth back through the open door and Greg held out his arms for Nick to tumble into.

They whispered of their love for each other, and the need for sleep began to overcome them, but not before Nick whispered, "It must be Christmas Eve by now."

Greg nodded sleepily. "God Jul***!" he murmured, for in Norway Christmas was traditionally celebrated on Christmas Eve.

Nick gave him a final kiss goodnight. "Merry Christmas, hon."

***

Greg wasn't even aware that Nick had left their bed until he was coaxed into waking by the smell of freshly-brewed coffee being waved under his nose. He opened his eyes to find Nick hovering over him, with a mug in his hand that happened to have red tinsel wrapped around the grip.

"Morning, babe," Nick whispered.

Greg fingered the tinsel, and then smiled at his partner. "You can be such a dork sometimes."

"Good morning to you, too," Nick started to pull away the mug.

Greg sat up and grabbed him by the wrist to prevent him, or rather, the coffee, from getting away. "Good morning."

"That's better," Nick teased, and handed him the mug.

Greg took a grateful sip, and moaned appreciatively. He looked at Nick over the rim, finding him sexier than ever in his sweatpants, bare feet and ratty A&M sweatshirt.

"Good?" Nick asked.

"Be better if you got back into bed," Greg suggested invitingly.

Nick grabbed his own coffee, which he had placed on the chest of drawers when he awakened Greg, and climbed in beside him. Greg nestled into him and pulled the comforter back up. "Is anybody else awake?"

"Mom and Dad are downstairs with Ginny. They seem a bit out of it this morning."

"All three of them?"

Nick sighed. "No, Ginny's Ginny, but the folks seem a bit reserved."

Greg could only surmise that it was because of the apparent fall-out with their friends, but he kept it to himself. "They're probably tired," he offered by way of excuse.

"Probably," Nick still didn't sound convinced as he raised his mug up to his lips.

"Maybe they over-exerted themselves last night the same way we did."

Nick practically spat coffee out over the bed. "G!"

"Well..." Greg had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"That's my parents you're... fuck!" Nick was still in shock.

"Yes, Nicky, that is what I'm talking about."

"I want some bleach for my brain now."

Greg burrowed in closer to him. "Sorry," he said, even though his tone suggested he really wasn't at all. He was just glad he had distracted Nick from speculating on the possible reasons for his parents' disposition. "So, what are the plans for the day?"

"Christmas Eve? Usually another huge dinner, some carols and eggnog, all the usual stuff."

"No linedancing?"

"Not on Christmas Eve, no."

"Damn. I was becoming so good at it."

"Is there anything you're not good at?" Nick pondered mockingly, tapping his finger against his temple. "Oh, right. Cooking!"

"I can make do," Greg muttered defensively.

"Opening a bag of corn chips, a tin of salsa and nuking it in the microwave with some pre-packaged grated cheese does not constitute cooking, G."

"Tastes good though," Greg shrugged.

Nick wasn't about to admit that, so he took a sip of his coffee and listened to Greg continue to list his culinary achievements.

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


Breakfast was a rather intermittent affair, with the whole family never together at the same time. Various members stumbled down throughout the morning, grabbing muffins or toasting bread blearily and downing cups of coffee as if they were tonics. Beth was one of the worst affected, her eyes mere slits as she collapsed on the window-seat and half-heartedly chewed on a bagel.

"Aren't you even going to toast that?" Kat asked her sister dubiously. "Maybe even add a condiment to it?"

Beth stared her down. "Can't stand long enough to do so."

"My mother, the town drunk," Ginny teased.

Beth pointed at her with the half gnawed bagel. "Just remind yourself that your father hasn't even made it down here yet."

She turned to Greg, who was innocently minding his own business as he ate raisin toast. "Where's Nicholas?"

Greg smiled at her. "He was up for a while, but he ended up crashing again. I think I sent him to sleep recounting my cooking talents."

"He told me you had none," Gray said bluntly, his tact destroyed by his hangover.

"That's the most important thing he could think of to tell you about me? And he lied anyway," Greg said, affronted. "If there's a can to be opened, I know how to serve the contents."

"That's advice from the Jess Stokes School of Cooking," Beth smiled into her bagel, then winced as the offended party leant over from her chair and slapped her on the thigh.

As the siblings continued bickering, Greg took the opportunity to escape, and made his way through the hallway to head for the front door. As he passed Bill's study he heard his name called, and he swung around to see Bill and Jillian sitting within.

"Come in here," Bill gestured.

Feeling like he was being summoned into the principal's office, Greg automatically adjusted his expression into blank mode and closed the door behind him.

Nick's parents regarded him, amused.

"You didn't have to shut the door," Bill smiled. "You're not in here for a lecture."

"I think he's accepted us as parents-in-law," Jillian gave a small laugh, "Because he's now acting exactly like one of the kids when they were about to be punished for something."

"I could open the door again," Greg offered, still standing before it.

"No, no, sit," Bill instructed him, and Greg suddenly thought he knew what it felt like to face Judge Stokes in his courtroom.

"So..." Greg drawled uncomfortably. "...what's up?" Uh, not exactly the most auspicious conversation-opener there, Sanders.

Jillian and Bill exchanged glances, then looked back at him.

This is it. This has all been a ruse. Here comes the...

"We know that you saw what happened by the campfire last night," Jillian finally said.

Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get me, his mind's voice sing-songed mockingly at him.

Greg involuntarily let forth a sigh. "You mean your friends who suddenly realised they had somewhere else to be?"

"Yes, those 'friends'," Jillian echoed his sigh.

"When they realised they had somewhere else to be, we didn't want to inconvenience them by holding them up," Bill grimaced.

"I'm sorry," Greg said softly.

They both looked at him sharply, and at the same time let loose a volley of reprimands that he was not to think that way. Greg held up his hands to silence them, as if he was back in the lab and dealing with all the CSIs descending upon him at once with demands for their results.

"But they were some of your oldest friends," he protested.

"And we would never let any of our so-called friends treat our children in that way. If we did, what kind of parents would we be?" Bill demanded.

"And what kind of friends could they lay claim to being?" Jillian added.

"It's not easy when you feel like you're responsible for that kind of division," Greg admitted.

Jillian leaned in and took his hand. "Oh, honey, you and Nick are so suited for each other. Like the cliché, you both have hearts as big as Texas."

"And guilt complexes to match," Bill snorted.

"Does he know what happened?" Jillian asked.

Greg shook his head. "I managed to distract him."

She sat back, relieved. "Good."

"We don't want him to know. Not right now," Bill toyed with a paperweight on his desk, his eyes elsewhere because he didn't think he could be so open with someone other than his wife. "He's been through enough, and he's still healing. And maybe that's not fair to you, but you obviously agree otherwise you would have come out swinging last night."

"Well, maybe not swinging, but certainly with plenty of snide remarks and dirty looks," Greg gave a small smile.

"Well, you gave one hell of a dirty look," Bill gave him a small smile.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for you to see that."

"If we hadn't seen it for ourselves, Greg, would you have told us?" Bill asked.

Greg sighed, and held onto his hands tightly so they wouldn't betray the nervousness he felt at the moment. "Honestly? No."

"Why not?" Jillian asked gently.

"Because sometimes you have to hide things to keep the peace."

Jillian reached over and took his hand in hers. "You're a good man."

Bill nodded in agreement. "But we know Gray has already filled you in on how this family operates. We all end up finding out somehow, no matter who it is that eventually passes along the pertinent information."

Greg gave a light cough. "Well, if Gray told you that he has, then obviously that proves it."

"Yes," Bill was momentarily flummoxed but he recovered his impassive court mien quickly. "Then you should know, we always find out. So although it was very good of you to try and protect us, you're one of us now. So it goes both ways."

"Thank you," Greg said, humbled by the omniscient wisdom of Ma and Pa Stokes.

There was a pleasant lull between them all, which of course he had to break.

"So... if the Stokes family is all-knowing and all-seeing, how come you didn't know about Nick and I until six months ago?"

Jillian and Bill exchanged an almost smug look.

"Honey," Jillian said, trying to restrain her smile. "If you and Nick ever get to have children, you try and tell me if you are that clueless when your unmarried thirty-five year old son suddenly has a best friend who he talks about endlessly and with the utmost affection, and that friend just happens to be over all the time when you call your son's house."

Suitably chastened, Greg coloured and looked down at his feet. "Then why didn't you–"

"You tell us," Bill shrugged. "How do you think, at that stage, Nick would have handled it if we had called him out on it?"

"Not well," Greg admitted. "But maybe..."

"I know," Jillian leaned back in her chair. "Once again, when you're a parent you have to make a judgement call. And the sad thing is, just because you are a parent it doesn't mean you'll make the right one. You just have to hope you are."

"We're hoping that we'll all be able to move on," Bill admitted.

"We are," Greg said earnestly. "You've made me feel very welcome. And Nick... well, he's the happiest he's been for months. I hope he's able to take it back to Vegas with him."

"We think he will," Bill said.

The door to the study opened, and Nick entered. He had showered, and Greg could smell him from where he sat. "Uh, what's going on?" he asked nervously.

"Just having a friendly chat, dear," Jillian said brightly.

"Uh huh," Nick's tone turned suspicious. "G?"

Greg wavered slightly under his gaze. "You know it had to come sooner or later, Nick."

Now he felt Bill and Jillian turning their attention back to him.

"What, Greg?" Nick asked impatiently.

"You know," Greg gave him a cheeky smile, "The talk."

Nick paused before speaking, a look of realisation crossed over his face, and he looked back exasperatedly to his parents. "Mom! Cisco! We're both in our thirties!" he protested, at that moment sounding exactly like he was sixteen.

"Every suitor gets the talk," Bill said solemnly.

Greg grinned at his ‘father-in-law', and then felt Nick reach down and yank him out of his chair.

"We'll talk later," Nick instructed his parents, pulling Greg to safety. When Nick's back was turned Greg gave them a quick thumbs-up switching quickly to air guns when Nick glanced back, at which they both laughed silently, holding in the sound until the door shut behind them.

"So what did they say?" Nick demanded as he led Greg outside into the mid-morning sunlight.

"The usual things parents say to their children's beaus," Greg teased. "How much money do I earn, what do my parents do, be honourable, no touching, and definitely no knocking you up until I put a wedding ring on your finger."

"They did not," Nick couldn't do anything but grin at him.

"It was just a nice, welcome to the family speech."

"Really?" Nick bit his lip in a bashful manner, as if he couldn't believe it.

Greg knew he wasn't lying when he replied in the affirmative.

"Well... that's good," Nick said finally.

"Yeah, it is. So don't give them any grief later, okay?"

"Okay, boss," Nick playfully brought his leg up to kick in the back of Greg's knee, and he almost went sprawling to the ground.

"You bastard!" Greg spluttered, gaining his balance and looking up to find Nick running off towards the stables.

"Come on!" Nick called over his shoulder. "It's about time you rode a horse, G!"

It would be worth anything just to keep the smile on Nick's face, even balancing atop a large unpredictable beast smelling of manure. Greg put on his best begrudging face, even though he was mentally beaming, and ran to catch up to him. As he drew near to Nick, he kicked the back of his partner's knee, and ran for his life as Nick tumbled bellowing into a pile of straw.

"You'll pay for that, G!"

***

Nick had to restrain himself from laughing for the first fifteen minutes that Greg sat upon Diablo's back, trying to head her in the direction he wished for her to go. The man and the horse continued to move in circles, and Greg was growing more frustrated with each passing second. He was used to being in control, of having a superior knowledge of his environment, and he didn't like having that power taken away from him.

"Just let the reins rest on her neck and pull gently on the side you want her to turn, G," he said neutrally, for he knew that if he pitched anything above a monotone Greg would take it as potential criticism.

"I am pulling gently!" Greg scowled, but this time Diablo finally started to move towards the end of the corral, where Nick awaited with Loco.

"See? You're getting the hang of it," Nick told him, with a hint of pride.

Greg blushed slightly, both because of Nick's obvious pride and the realisation that he had been teetering on the edge of acting like a bit of a jackass. He remembered how he hadn't been exactly as patient with Nick when he had tried to get him on a surfboard the last time they were in California. Yet all it took was the reassuring grin thrown in his direction by Nick to enable him to calm down, and follow his partner out of the corral.

Nick led them along the path beside the dam that he already knew so well. Greg found himself starting to find his balance on Diablo's back, and learned to ride along with her natural rhythm rather than stiffly allowing himself to be thrown about. He took notice of Nick's relaxed slouch and the rather sultry sway of his hips, adopting it himself, only to find his comfort much improved. Nick wore a blissed-out expression that made Greg smile to himself as he thought about the possibility of Nick unwinding the same way in Vegas. However, he couldn't switch off the logical part of his brain. The earthy smell of the horse rose in waves and he wondered how many cycles in the washer it would take to get the odour out of his jeans.

"You doin' okay back there, Sundance?" Nick called over his shoulder.

Greg urged Diablo to catch up beside him. "Sure am, Butch," he began to laugh. "That just sounds so bad."

Nick couldn't help but laugh in return.

"Should've brought the hats," Greg observed.

"Don't you feel authentic enough?" Nick teased.

"No, man, the sun."

Nick nodded. Greg was right. Even though it was winter, the sun was still shining with enough force to affect them if they planned to stay out too long.

"I guess as ridiculous as they look, they serve a purpose," Greg admitted. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see," Nick teased, and urged Loco to kick up her heels and forced them into a faster pace.

Greg hung on to the pommel for fear of loss of life.

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


"Ginny! Can you come in here for a moment, dear?"

Ginny froze from where she was making herself a coffee in the kitchen. All sets of eyes present in the same room fell upon her like laser beams.

"You're in trouble," Max informed her solemnly.

"I haven't done anything," she hissed at him.

"That was definitely Mom's something-to-fear tone," Marcie winced.

"Ginny!" Jillian called again.

Ginny quickly poured herself a cup of coffee, made to scurry off, then ran back and poured her grandmother a cup just in case it could serve as a peace offering.

Marcie giggled. "That's not going to help you if you go in there looking like you're shitting yourself."

"There are children in here!" Ginny said in as aggrieved a tone as she could muster.

"Daddy says that word a lot," Max told Marcie.

"Really?" Marcie asked. "That's terrible."

"Mommy says it more!" Allison protested, as Ginny ran out the door with both cups in hand.

Jillian was sitting in Bill's study. "Oh, there you are, honey."

"Whatever it was, I'm sure I didn't do it," Ginny said, placing a cup of coffee on the desk before her grandmother.

"Sit," Jillian pleasantly commanded. "Didn't you?"

"I'm sure."

"What was it you think you didn't do?" Jillian tried not to smile.

"I have no idea," Ginny sighed, and sat opposite her. "So, lay it on me. What did I do, and how shall I be punished?"

"I actually have a favour to ask of you," Jillian sipped at her coffee.

"Me?" Ginny squeaked, although she was pleased that it was apparently only she who could help Jillian with something.

Jillian nodded. "It may not be pleasant."

Ginny sat back, her pleasure evaporating. "Go on..."

"I've made the decision that I'm going out to Mark and Laura's tomorrow, and I want you to go with me."

Ginny sprung out of her chair as if she had been shocked by electrodes which were built within it. "No way!" She crossed to window, and could see Nick in the lead as he and Greg walked their horses out of the corral, and she focused upon them to try and stop herself from foaming at the mouth.

"I'm not looking forward to it either," Jillian admitted.

"Then why go?"

"Honey, please..."

Ginny sighed, watching Nick and Greg disappear over the hill before turning to face her grandmother.

"No matter what Laura and Mark have said and done, their children are still my grandchildren, and they're also your cousins. They haven't done anything wrong, and they're going to be confused as to why they aren't coming over here this year."

"Well, their parents can tell them why."

"And do you trust them to give an unbiased opinion?" Jillian asked.

"Can you trust me to give one?" Ginny countered.

Jillian sighed. "Well, maybe yours can balance the other out."

"I don't want to go."

"Nobody else will go with me. Nick and Greg aren't welcome. Your grandfather is too upset to even think about going. Your aunts and uncles are boycotting the idea. Matthew and Will don't deserve to suffer because of this. And don't you think the good side of the family should be represented?"

"We're the good side?" Ginny snorted, taking a sip of her coffee before it grew too cold.

"We're the ones to try and represent a different view to the one they're getting. To let them know that there are differences out there, and that they're okay. If they don't get that through us, where else will they get it?"

"I just don't want to see Laura and Mark's smug faces. I'll hit them if I do."

"You won't, because you're better than that."

"Uncle Nick hit Mark," Ginny said, her heightened emotion letting the uncle slip out.

"Nick had a reason to," Jillian protested.

Two sets of similar eyes connected, and the owners burst out laughing.

"But why me?" Ginny repeated.

"I need you to take photographs. For Nick and Greg especially. If they can't get to see them, I would like them at least to have a photo of the boys opening the presents they bought them."

This melted the last reservation in Ginny's heart. "Okay, but if either Mark or Laura say anything to me, I am going to say something back."

Jillian raised her hands. "Hey, I didn't say I was going to censor you."

"Okay, I'll come," Ginny submitted. "But I am also going to make sure that Matthew and Will know exactly where those presents came from, that Uncle Nick hasn't forgotten them, and that they have a wonderful new uncle as well, even if they can't be there to give them."

Jillian reached over and took her hand. "Me too."

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


"This is beautiful," Greg breathed.

They had finally reached Nick's destination. He had led them over one final ridge that overlooked the complete breadth of the ranch. Nick jumped down from Loco and looped the end of her rein over a sturdy tree branch.

"It is, isn't it?" Nick grinned, taking hold of Diablo's bridle and helping lead her to where Loco awaited. "This is where I always used to come to get away from the chaos of the house, or when I needed time out from studying."

Greg jumped down beside him. "Did Cisco ever bring you up here and give you the speech from The Lion King about how all this would be yours one day?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yes, G, he did. And then we sang The Circle of Life."

Greg laughed at the thought of Cisco holding a younger Nick over the precipice so the wildlife assembled beneath could admire him. As if he could read his mind, Nick groaned and pulled him down onto the ledge. They sat with their legs swinging in the open air, the cool wind washing over them but the heat retained in the rock kept them relatively warm.

"Everything's changing," Nick said, suddenly.

Greg looked at him, quizzically.

Nick pointed out towards the horizon. "It used to be that you couldn't see civilisation from here. There was nothing as far you looked."

Greg could see the encroachment of camouflaged cellphone towers and housing estates, although they were as yet a faint blur in the distance. They were a disturbing smudge to the peace of the ranch's hills.

"Mom and Cisco get offers all the time from people wanting to buy patches of land off them," Nick continued. "They keep refusing, but the truth is they're getting older now, and none of us kids are looking to run the ranch. The time might come that they start selling it off in pieces, and all that crap will be right up to here."

Greg huddled in closer to him and wrapped an arm around his waist. "What are you saying? That you would like to come back and take it over one day?"

Nick looked at him. "Honestly? I can't imagine doing that either. I guess I'm just selfish and want everything to remain the same. At least here, anyway. And that's just not possible."

"That's not selfish, Nicky. It's just human. And maybe you, or Gray, or Beth will change your mind one day," he began to laugh softly. "Or maybe you'll all end up here as one huge, dysfunctionally older, bickering family again."

Nick began to laugh along, and he grew wistful when he stopped. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing."

A silence fell between them as they mulled over potential dreams and the obvious realities that threatened them.

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


"I smell funky," Greg complained as they made their way back from the stables after placing the horses back in their stalls and giving them a rubdown.

"Yep, you smell like a horse," Nick agreed lightly. The ranch-house was invitingly lit up as if it was a diorama, with the Christmas tree in the front window calling them home.

"You would think somebody would have invented by now some kind of genetic engineering to inhibit animal odour."

"I'm sure that's high on their list of priorities. Y'know, above curing cancer and all."

"I guess it wouldn't be fair anyhow," Greg mused. "After all, their natural smells act as communication axis, and of course pheromones in sexual attraction..."

He stopped suddenly, and sniffed the air.

"Are you smelling my pheromones?" Nick asked warily, sensing Greg's love of the obvious joke.

"Noooo..." Greg said slowly, "but I think I'm having an olfactory hallucination."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Mr Scientist, you do know that's a tautology?"

Greg grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. "Nick, I swear I smell Pinnekjøtt!"

Nick gave him a sly smile. "We're in Texas, Greg, you must be imagining it."

But Greg knew his senses weren't fooling him. He ran up the steps, Nick at his heels.

The kitchen, as usual, was filled with Stokes and noise. And the smell of fine Norwegian cooking. A chorus of greetings hit him, and he almost staggered against them.

"What's going on?" he asked stupidly, aware of Nick's presence behind him.

Jillian wiped her hands on a tea towel and brushed away the hair that had fallen across her brow. "We knew you were thinking of going to your family for Christmas before we invited you here. So we wanted to make sure you didn't miss out on some things from home."

Greg swallowed hard, and felt Nick's hands rest upon his hips to steady him. "I'm really happy to be here," he said, with all honesty. A new smell separated itself from the others and he perked up. "Julekake!"

Jess laughed as she closed the oven door, leaving the fruit bread to rest upon the cooling rack. Greg left Nick's half-embrace and hovered over the cake, smelling it appreciatively. He was then distracted by a pot on the cooker. "Riskrem!"

Nick involuntarily shuddered. As far as he was concerned, rice belonged with savoury dishes and not as the primary ingredient for a dessert.

"Nicholas," his mother warned, catching his reaction.

"Hey, you'll understand once you taste Pinnekjøtt," he defended himself.

Starting to pour drinks, Gray leapt in. "It's meat. How bad can it be?"

"Really bad if you're vegetarian," Ginny offered from her chair in the corner, Allison and Max fighting for her lapspace.

"You're not vegetarian," Gray retaliated, then his brow furrowed. "Are you?"

She shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."

Nick sat down next to her, and took the struggling Max into his arms, who had lost out for Ginny's attention to his sister. "Believe me, become one before the main course."

Greg threw him an exasperated but affectionate look from where he was admiring the food. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

Although it was a word he never used, Nick's tone rang of Duh. "Why do you think we went riding all afternoon? You had to be distracted."

The affectionate look turned to pure unabashed love; and Ginny, inadvertently catching sight of it, felt like she had stumbled into something that she shouldn't be privy to as it was so intensely personal. Luckily her mother then entered the kitchen, and noticing that the boys had returned, swooped in upon her brother-in-law and gave him an embarrassingly loud lip-smack on the cheek.

"God Jul!" Beth laughed, as he turned an endearing shade of red. "Did I say that okay?"

"Like a Norwegian cowgirl," Greg laughed.

"Hmm, not so authentic then," she sniffed. "You smell like a horse."

"So does Uncle Nick," Max chirped up from his uncle's lap.

"I think we're being told to clean up for dinner," Nick told Greg.

"Let's do it," Greg said, rubbing his hands. "There's good food a-waiting."

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


No sooner had Nick closed the bedroom door behind them than Greg grabbed him in a bonecrushing hug and was whispering in his ear a garbled chant of idon'tbelieveitidon'tbelieveitidon'tbelieveit.

Nick cradled the back of his head tenderly. "Hey, what's the matter?"

Greg's breath was hot and his cheeks were damp against his neck. "That... that they did all that for me."

"They're pulling out all the stops for you this year. Next year, just wait and see... Mom will have you washing dishes and Cisco making you muck out the stables," Nick ribbed him gently. "They have you now, Greggo, the cult of Stokes."

"It's a good cult," Greg sniffed.

Nick laughed. "Yeah, it's okay."

He closed his eyes and thought to himself that, in fact, it was rather extraordinary.

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


Freshly showered and smelling brand-new, Nick and Greg came down just in time for the food to start being served. The Stokes clan were gracious in their virgin state of exposure to Norwegian cuisine, making sure to try everything but Greg couldn't help but be amused at the other platters of ‘normal' food were emptied faster. Greg described some of the traditions that his family celebrated on the night, and Nick added his own experiences of them when he had spent Christmas with the Sanders. The mood at the table was easy and hospitable, and Greg felt that for the first time he was truly part of the family – there were no Laura or Mark or hostile friends to make him feel strange or studied.

Nick couldn't help but notice his mother's expression set a little when he and Greg were regaling them with stories of the previous Christmas and how Papa Olaf had decided for a laugh to put sparking candles in the table decorations, leading to a noisy evacuation of the dining room. Nick realised she was probably imagining acceptance from the Sanders family coming before her own and assuming some form of guilt for it. That inspired some guilt on his part that it was his own fault for not trusting his family over his own fear. Nick caught her eye, and gave her a warm smile, and was heartened when she returned it without hesitation.

But it was all okay now. As he expected, Greg had the family in his thrall. Even if he did start a small controversy by letting it slip that his family opened their presents on Christmas Eve night, setting up a series of howls from Max and Allison.

"Hush," Kat told them. "We've already decided that you can open one present tonight to go with tradition."

"I suppose you're too old to be excited over that?" Greg asked, turning to Ginny but finding her chair was already empty, as she was investigating which would be the best present to open above all the others.

Bill leapt to his feet and clapped his hands together. "After dinner!" he bellowed.

Marcie giggled, leaning in to Nick. "The Judge has spoken."

The Stokes siblings laughed in a shared, almost preternatural, bond.

Chastened, Ginny slunk into the kitchen with both of her young cousins in hand and tried to cover up her embarrassment at being caught out like a child by starting to clear dishes from the table. Nick rose to help her, and then busied himself in the refrigerator.

"Time for a drink!" he announced, holding forth an armful of dark bottles. Greg's eyes widened when he saw it was linjeakevitt, and that it would have cost a small fortune.

"What's that?" Jess asked with interest.

Nick began pouring the pale yellow liquid out for the adults into small shot glasses, and added a half-shot for Ginny although she wasn't aware of it yet. "It's linjeakevitt."

"And what does that mean?" Gray had sidled up to him, and recoiled from the fumes. "Wooh! How strong is that?"

"Forty percent proof," Nick grinned.

"You'll taste every percent," Greg assured Gray. "It's especially fermented by running it across the equator in ships between Norway and Australia and back again."

Jess eyed the drinks jealously. "Those bottles are more well-travelled than I am."

Nick and Gray distributed the glasses, and Ginny's eyes widened when Nick passed her one. He deftly shushed her with a finger to his lips, and before Max and Allison could pipe up about being left out he gave them two glasses that contained a weak lemon syrup which appeared not unlike the colour of the alcohol.

"Well, Greg, seeing that we've finally gotten you here now, it's only fair that we force you to make a toast," Bill said, raising his glass expectantly.

Being put on the spot in this circumstance would have made Greg want to bolt only days before, a scarier situation far worse than even the early days of having to face off with Grissom in the labs. But now he felt like he was in a second home, and the fear had dissipated. He cleared his throat, and raised his glass towards the family (his family, now, too) before him.

"The traditional Norwegian toast is Skål, and it's an acronym made from four words; Sunnhet, Kjærlighet, Alder og Lykke. These mean health, friendship, long life and happiness; and I can't think of a better thing to wish for to the wonderful people who have fully welcomed me into their lives over the past few days," his voice cracked slightly on the last few words, but the smiles from the family and Nick's arm around his waist gave him the strength to finish with a heartfelt flourish. "Skål!"

The chorus of Skål! rang through the house, and Greg eagerly sipped at his akevitt so the burning sensation of the alcohol could help contain the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. But he found that left him quite quickly and he was able to smile freely and laugh again.

***

The kids had been sent to bed Christmas Eve, satisfied with the one gift they had been allowed to open, thanks to Greg and his Norwegian traditions. Ginny was still sitting on the living room floor with her laptop on the coffee table in front of her as she installed Photoshop; Nick had finally been able to escape her only after she had demonstrated all of the special effects tools for him. He felt as if he was back in the AV lab with Archie, and resolved that one day he would have to invite Ginny to come out to Vegas for a tour of the lab; she would love all the state-of-the-art equipment. Nick chuckled, imagining she would most likely try to line up an apprenticeship with the AV tech just to gain access to all of it.

As he opened the door to their bedroom, he could hear Greg conversing within.

"It's been unbelievable, Papa. I was so scared when I first came here, but it's been great."

Nick smiled as he recognized a few of the words in Norwegian; Greg was obviously speaking to his Papa Olaf. Nick closed the door quietly behind himself and gave a small wave to his partner, who was stretched out on the bed with his long legs braced against the wall.

"You should see what they did for me tonight... but wait, Nick's just come up, Papa, so I should go," Greg scooted over to make room for his partner.

"Hey, Papa Olaf," Nick said over Greg's ear so that the sound of his voice travelled through the mouthpiece.

Greg gave a small laugh as he listened on the other end. "He says hello back, and he hopes you're keeping out of trouble. Don't worry, Papa, I'm making sure of it. I love you too. God Jul."

He hung up with a heavy sigh, and tossed the mobile down between them.

Nick kicked off his shoes, lay down, and pulled Greg to him. "What's up?"

"I just miss him, that's all."

"I'm sorry you didn't get to see him this Christmas."

Greg looked at him and said hurriedly. "No, no, Nicky. I wouldn't trade this Christmas for anything, it's been so worth it. Just seeing you here, seeing you happy, both of us being happy..."

Nick kissed the small patch of shoulder that was exposed from where the neck of his t-shirt had lost elasticity. "It has been worth it, hasn't it?"

"Every minute," Greg agreed, "even the not-so-good ones. I guess I'm just feeling a little melancholy. Papa Olaf, he's getting old. Sometimes I worry that..." he broke off, because he didn't want to cry.

"I know," Nick said, realising both his fear and his inability to say it aloud.

"Yeah," Greg agreed softly.

"Do you know what I think we should do?" Nick asked, sitting up.

"I'm kinda tired," Greg yawned.

Nick rolled his eyes. "You're never too tired for that, but that's not what I'm thinking of."

"Oh," Greg sounded disappointed regardless. "What are you thinking of, then?"

"How about we split Christmas next year? Let's stay with your folks through Christmas Eve, then fly out early in the morning and get here in time for Christmas Day. That way nobody misses out."

"That could work," Greg said thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming. "But, even better... what if they all come to Vegas for Christmas?"

The logistics of of a full-on Sanders/Stokes invasion threatened to make Nick's head explode. "I thought Papa Olaf hated to fly?"

"He does. But they could drive down. It's only five hundred miles."

Nick tried to imagine Greg's parents and grandparents stuck in a car together for that amount of time, and given Papa Olaf's propensity for practical jokes and the way that Nana Olaf's spirit guides would demand communication with her at any given moment, he hoped that it wouldn't be a crime scene that they would be assigned to by the time it rolled into Vegas. It wasn't that they didn't get along, it was just that he couldn't imagine Greg's parents surviving a combined Olaf attack with their navigational skills still intact. "Sure... we could try suggesting it," he said, to keep the peace.

"Excellent," Greg said happily, firmly pushing Nick back down into the mattress, curling up on his chest and wrapping a leg around his waist. "It could be really good, hosting Christmas, getting the families together..."

"That's my Greggo," Nick said sleepily as his eyes began to close. "Always thinking of the sequel before the first one's even finished."

He was vaguely aware of Greg reaching down and pulling the comforter over them as he drifted into sleep.

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

Both men jerked awake when the screaming began.

They were out of bed immediately, pulling on their jeans. Nick automatically reached for the gun in his bedside drawer, which of course was not there because he was 1200 miles away from home.

As the scream came closer to their room, it articulated into words.

"Santa came! Santa came!"

Greg's heart was thumping against his chest so hard and fast that he wondered if he were to look down if it would be exposed as if he were a plastinated corpse in a Body Works exhibit. He sighed heavily and fell back upon the bed. "Niiiick," he groaned.

"Welcome to the world of kids," Nick laughed, which turned immediately into a yawn. He reached down for his sweatshirt and pulled it on.

Greg opened a bleary eye and stared in disbelief at the LED on the alarm clock. "It's not even five am!"

"Gray's eldest got us up at three-thirty one year."

"Do you know what would stop that?" Greg asked.

"Hey!" Nick pointed a finger at him. "There will be no drugging of our children!"

Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Too soon?" Nick asked.

Greg pinched his finger and thumb together, weakly. "Just a tad."

Nick leant down and hauled him up by his pits. "Get dressed. They'll be expecting us."

Greg grumbled incoherently but started pulling on his shirt and socks.

Nick watched him, a smile on his face.

Halfway through putting on the second sock, Greg paused and turned to him. "I guess it's different when it's your own kids, huh?"

Nick knew exactly what he meant. "Yeah. I guess when they're your own you're just as excited, because you want to see their reactions and take part in it."

Greg finished his task, and jumped up. "I hope they'll let me make coffee before the unruliness settles in."

"At this time of day, everyone will be demanding it."

Greg's eyes widened as he remembered the obvious. "Hey, Merry Christmas!"

Nick couldn't believe they had forgotten to say it. He moved towards Greg and whispered, "Merry Christmas," before claiming a kiss.

The door banged, they jumped apart and an insistent voice yelled through the wood, "Uncle Nick! Uncle Greg! Hurry up!"

"Duty calls," Greg grinned.

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

Coffee was essential, as all the adults looked as if they were about to try to infiltrate a rogue gang of raccoons. Greg and Beth busied themselves around the coffee-maker while Jillian and Bill supervised the handing out of the gifts. A pleasant hubbub began as thank you's were exchanged and people began tearing off the gaily-coloured wrappings.

"Hurry up G, you have quite a pile here," Nick yelled down the hall into the kitchen.

Beth smiled as she watched Greg colour, both with embarrassment and pleasure. He was an open book when it came to emotion, you could always tell what he was feeling. She was intrigued to observe that about him; he was so different from Nick, who was adept at maintaining a façade if he chose. Greg seemed incapable of keeping the walls up.

"You must have been good this year," she teased, as she started pouring milk from the carton into a small pitcher.

"I'm always good," he shot back, his bravado easily transparent.

"You are," she said simply, and he coloured again.

He gave her a quick smile, and then looked back down at the cups he was preparing. "Coffee's ready."

She let it go at that, and began helping him load the tray up with mugs.

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

The adults enjoyed watching Max and Allison rip the wrapping from their presents; the twins' eyes grew wide as the sheer multitude of new toys began to tower over them, and they dithered, unsure of what to begin playing with first.

"One of the benefits of being in a large family," Greg remarked, his own eyes marvelling at all the excess, which included the overload of parcels piled in front of him with his name on every tag.

Nick realised that it could all be overwhelming for someone who wasn't used to a large family Christmas, and remembered how he had missed the Stokes' grandness and chaos while at the Sanders' tidy and restrained celebration. Even though it had been a nice, peaceful and understated celebration, he had found it somewhat strange. Greg, however, was drinking the Stokes' Christmas Morning Mayhemâ„¢ in like an anthropologist researching a strange, unknown tribe for the National Geographic Society.

Everyone in the Stokes family prided themselves on the thought they put into their gifts; it was almost a competition. They always did, even when it came to Greg, who they certainly did not know as well as all of the other family members. But Greg guessed that Nick had been thoroughly grilled beforehand because it seemed that they knew him well enough, evidenced by the fact that Beth, Tony and Ginny had bought him a bottle of the special limited edition cologne that smelled like Play-doh. Which he had immediately splashed on himself, to Nick's consternation.

"You smell like a kindergarten," Nick complained, wrinkling his nose. "It's not at all sexy."

"Yeah, keep talking, Mr Old Spice," Greg had retaliated.

"I do not wear Old Spice," Nick defended himself to the rest of his family, who looked as if they didn't really believe him.

"I don't," he mumbled to himself as Greg laughed.

"Nothing wrong with Old Spice, son," Bill said, which only added to Nick's dismay.

He could feel Greg inch closer to him as thank-you's were directed at them both – they had chosen their presents together, and both their names were on the tags. Neither of them had really said anything to the other, but doing that had been momentous for them. They had only done it with the Sanders' family before, but this Christmas had been the first year that they gave presents to their work colleagues and friends together. It was their first simple establishment of "Nick and Greg". Nick reached down and took Greg's hand, and he squeezed it in return.

"You've got a lot more to open," Nick gestured with a tilt of his head.

"So do you."

Nick looked at him. "No, I think I've finished."

"You haven't opened mine."

"G, you already gave it to me, remember? The book on birds that you insisted I should have to read on the plane?"

"You are such a doofus!" Greg berated him gently. "Do you really think I would only give you a book at Christmas?"

"We agreed to not go over the top," Nick groaned.

"I didn't," Greg said off-handedly. He pulled his knees up to his chest self-consciously, and glanced sideways at Nick over his arms.

Nick gave a slight grimace, noting how unsure of himself Greg looked, and rummaged around the presents beside him until he noticed a red envelope he had simply overlooked. His name was written on it in Greg's scrawling handwriting.

Jess peered over his shoulder. "Ooh, gift certificates. How romantic."

"It's a little too thick for gift certificates," Nick tried to keep it light, aware of how nervous Greg still seemed, a fact that was starting to register with most of the family as well.

"Maybe it's a bunch of very expensive gift certificates," Gray joked.

Nick carefully slid his thumb underneath the sealed flap of the envelope and opened it. There was a thick wad of papers and when he pulled them out a polaroid fluttered out from amongst them and fell to the ground, face up.

It was a photo of Greg with a horse.

Not just any horse.

His breath rushed out as if he'd been hit in the solar plexus, and without a word he managed to reach down and pick the photo up again. He flipped it photo over, and there on the back in Greg's hand was written Me with Tornado, December 18.

Only a week before. Three days before they left for Texas.

"G..." he managed to breathe.

"Look at the papers," was the only thing Greg said.

He could feel his hands trembling slightly as he carefully rested the photo on his knee.

"May I?" Jess asked, gesturing to the picture, and all he could do was nod.

As Jess studied the photo and then passed it on to his parents, Nick began to read the papers. One was a letter from Danielle Messing, granting ownership of Tornado to Greg. A sheaf of papers stapled together turned out to be a contract for the leasing of a stable run at the Cassidy Trails Ranch. Greg had signed for it but had added Nick's name as co-lessor to it as well.

Beth had taken the photo from her parents. "Wow, he bought you a horse?"

Answering her, but staring in disbelief at Greg, Nick replied, "Not just any horse. Tornado." *

Greg spoke up, although he was still hugging himself in his slightly-defensive position, "She was a victim in one of our cases. A man struck her deliberately with his car in order to kill his ex-girlfriend. She died, but Tornado survived. Her family didn't want to keep Tornado, but it didn't look as if she was going to make it anyway."

"The medical centre told me she had been adopted out," Nick said.

"Well, she had," Greg shrugged. "I was her owner by that stage, and I had taken responsibility for her. It was touch and go, and I knew how attached you were. So I let the vet know the story, and our relationship, and he covered for me until things were decided one way or another. It wasn't until the start of this month that they gave her the all-clear. So I found a ranch to stable her. She's yours, Nicky."

Nick was still in shock. All he could do was clutch the papers and read over them again.

"Come on, Nicky," Greg whispered, bumping him with his shoulder. "Say something."

"You... got me a horse."

"Yes."

"And you arranged a stable for her."

"Yes."

"And you've been going out on the sly to visit her?"

"Yes. You've been without a horse long enough, and I thought you needed a bit of the ranch back in Vegas."

Nick reached out and placed a hand on his arm, and then leaned in and rested his forehead against Greg's. I love you, he mouthed.

Greg smiled. "You're okay with it?"

"Who else but you would do something like this?" Nick asked, in genuine amazement. "You're unbelievable, G."

"I know," Greg's defensive stance evaporated, and he lounged more easily against the sofa leg.

They became aware that everybody was watching them.

"Show's over, folks, move along, nothing to see here," Nick said, with a slight flush at being the centre of attention.

Everyone immediately looked away, except for Beth who silently said, Don't you EVER fuck this one up.

I won't, he replied. He would have added and thanks for the vote of confidence, but that would have surpassed her talents as a lip-reader.

"She's a beauty of a horse, Nick," Jillian said.

"She is," Bill agreed. "A canter is a cure for every evil, as a wise man said. Lord knows the pair of you need it after everything."

"You'll either need another horse, or a saddle built for two," Gray teased.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Either option's good."

Greg shook his head, although he was secretly pleased that the two brothers were able to joke with each other like that. Gray leaned over and handed the photo back to Nick, who traced over the horse's features.

"I can't wait to see her," he said.

"She likes carrots and apples," Greg grinned.

"But you–" Nick moaned, as he remembered Greg's hesitancy in the stables with Diablo and Loco. "You should have been an actor."

"Oh, believe me, my inability to ride is real, I wasn't faking," Greg admitted, "but Tornado and I have been establishing quite the friendship." He lowered his voice, "She can't wait to see you again either."

Nick's hand dropped onto his knee as everybody started to clean up, and Jillian began to make noises about breakfast. Bill offered to make pancakes, bacon and eggs. Greg's stomach rumbled in anticipation.

"You haven't asked for your present from me yet," Nick prodded him.

Greg's eyes widened. "No, I haven't! Cough it up! What did you get me?"

"Little too eager there, Greggo---umph!"

Flat on his back with Greg hovering over him, fingers at the ready for tickling, Nick held up his hands. "Uncle!"

Greg sat back, disappointed. "You give in too easily."

Wordlessly, Nick handed him an envelope.

Greg shook it. "Well, I guess I didn't get a pony."

Nick sat up. "We did promise not to go overboard. It's not my fault you broke our agreement."

"More gift certificates?" Ginny asked as she collected a pile of crumpled paper at their feet.

"Only if I'm lucky," Greg replied, opening the envelope as she left the room. "And the Oscar goes to..."

Nick watched him expectantly as he pulled two airplane tickets out.

Greg looked up at him. "San Francisco? In April? What's going on, Nicky?"

Glad that they were currently alone in the living room so he could say what he wanted, Nick kissed him on the temple. "I knew coming here would make you worry about Papa Olaf, even though you would say nothing beforehand. April was the earliest time I could arrange leave for the both of us through Grissom."

"He's already okayed it?"

"I couldn't have bought the tickets otherwise."

Greg hooked his arms around Nick's neck. "So you knew I would worry?"

"Yes, I'm not entirely dense to your emotions."

He was expecting his partner to have some smartass reply, instead Greg's mouth was pressing against his own, the light flick of a tongue parting his lips, a hand massaging the back of his neck bringing him in closer...

The clearing of a throat made them jump apart like guilty teenagers.

Jess stood in the doorway, amused. "Daddy wanted to know if you both wanted bacon and eggs with your pancakes."

Unable to speak, they both nodded.

"Good Christmas, huh?" she teased.

They nodded again.

"Good," she turned and left.

"I thought you agreed not to go over–" Greg began to say.

Jess jumped back into the doorway, and they looked at her expectantly.

"Oh," she said, disappointedly. "I was just trying to catch you out again."

"We knew," Nick replied smugly.

Jess humphed, and disappeared again.

"Did we know?" Greg asked.

"Nope," Nick laughed.

"I love my present," Greg told him.

"You know how much I love mine," Nick murmured. "But next year, we should really stick to the agreement."

Greg's breath was hot against his neck as he came in for another kiss. "We both know that's not going to happen." He pulled away, and jumped up. "I need more coffee."

Without waiting for Nick, he scuttled off towards the kitchen. Nick smiled, and once again picked up the photo of Greg and Tornado. Greg's smile was wide, and he squinted against the sun, the bridle in one hand and his other resting against Tornado's nose. Nick tucked it into his pocket, wanting to keep it close, where he could look at it any time, and followed the smell of breakfast to take his place amongst his family.

***

Her hands upon the steering wheel, her eyes flicking between her grandmother and the road, Ginny felt the anger bubbling beneath her skin. "I mean, if they could have just seen them this morning... and realised they were just like any other couple, just like my parents... crap, even just like themselves, except more decent and loving..."

"Ginny, ease off the accelerator," Jillian warned, her right hand clutching the dashboard before her.

Her granddaughter realised sheepishly that she was being a bit of a leadfoot, and obeyed her grandmother. Jillian's breathing eased as the landscape outside the window became less of a blur and more distinct shapes could be ascertained.

"Sorry," Ginny smiled apologetically. "It's just that they make me so mad, you know? If they had stuck around, maybe they would have changed their minds. I mean, you can be pig ignorant about something until you're exposed to it, and then seeing it can change your mind about it. But they don't even want to be exposed to it in the first place, which is why they both ran like cowards..."

"Honey, you're preaching to the converted," Jillian said wearily, though gently.

"I know," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "I just can't help myself."

Jillian leaned over and lovingly tucked a strand of her hair back behind her granddaughter's ear. "I very much appreciate you coming along with me. I know how difficult it was for you."

Ginny bit her lip. "It's okay." It suddenly dawned on her how difficult this trip had been for her grandmother, and yet she had done the right thing, at least for the children. Ginny highly doubted whether it would have any positive effect on Laura and Mark.

Jillian closed her eyes, and unbidden, an image from the morning came back to her as she relived the entire visit. She had been loading up the car with Matthew's and Will's presents. Ginny was having a last minute private sulk in the kitchen, steeling herself for the inevitable trip to Mark and Laura's. Nick had come down the porch stairs, holding a present in his hands.

"I've already packed the present for the kids from you and Greg," she had said, puzzled.

His mouth was firm, as if he found what he was about to say extremely displeasing. "This is our present for Mark and Laura."

Jillian had been surprised, to say the least. Not that Nick and Greg had bought them a present, but the fact that they were still willing to give it.

"You don't have to, you know," she said, giving him the option to change his mind.

Her laconic son gave his uneasy shrug. "I know. But Greg told me we had to do the right thing, even if they didn't."

She patted his arm. "Of course he did."

"He's no saint," Nick leaned in and put the package on the back seat. "He would love to ignore it as well."

"But he won't," Jillian smiled. "Just as you won't."

"He had to twist my arm," Nick admitted.

"I bet he didn't have to twist it long," Jillian moved in quickly, and grabbed him in a fierce hug. He was a little surprised, but his arms circled her easily. "I don't want you to think that my going out there this morning means that I condone their behaviour in any way."

"Hey," he pulled out, so he could look her in the eyes. "Of course I know that. If it wasn't for the fact that I think his family would shoot me on sight if I stepped on their property, I would go just to see the boys as well."

Jillian sniffled slightly at the dark humour which masqueraded a real fear. Not that Nick feared actually being shot by Mark's family, but the very real hostility that he would encounter if he accompanied her was reason enough not to go. Especially as Mark could still be wearing the bruises made by Nick's fists and feet, making retaliation by irate relatives a possible threat.

So here she was with Ginny, turning up the driveway to the home of her daughter's in-laws. She felt her gut twist slightly, and of course, it wasn't helped by Ginny.

"Why do I feel like we're in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"

"Stop it," Jillian rebuked her immediately.

"Seriously, if I hear power tools starting up, we're out of here."

Jillian hid her smile, so as not to encourage her any further.

It didn't stop her granddaughter as she imitated the theme of the duelling banjos.

"You're mixing up your movie metaphors, dear."

"They both apply in this instance," Ginny shrugged as she parked the car by the side of the house. She sat back for a moment and sighed, not even releasing her seatbelt, looking for all the world as if she was about to start the ignition again and hightail it out of there.

"Get your camera," Jillian instructed her.

She was rewarded with one of those heavy adolescent sighs of displeasure and the dutiful sound of a belt unbuckling.

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

Nick could hear Greg before he saw him. He was lying on the front porch swing, one leg against the end of it and the other on the floor which he was using to push himself back and forth. His cellphone was in his hand and pressed against his ear, and he was laughing.

"What did you expect? I have them eating out of the palm of my hand," he paused listening to the reply, "You didn't think I could? Oh, ye of little faith." As Nick's shadow fell upon him, he grinned and patted the chair next to him. "Here's Nick, he'll back me up."

As Nick was handed the phone, he covered the mouthpiece. "Who is it?"

Greg pulled him down onto the swing. "Sara. She's at Catherine's."

Nick settled against his partner. "Hey, Sar."

"Merry Christmas, Nick," came the honeyed voice over the line. He could hear the smile in her tone, and it immediately brought the vision of her rare, but charmingly gap-toothed smile to mind.

"Merry Christmas, yourself."

"Catherine would speak to you, but she's stressing out over the turkey."

Sure enough, Nick could hear the sound of an oven door slamming in the background, and Catherine yelling out a greeting.

"Tell her I said hey," Nick said.

"I will. So is Greg really winning over The Stokes?"

"He has a gift, that's for sure. He's managed to gain the love of everybody except for my homophobic sister and brother-in-law."

She noted the bitterness in his voice, and tried to shrug it off for him. "Well, that's a pretty good turnover rate regardless."

"You know Greg. It's all or nothing for him to feel like he's achieved something." He resisted crying out when Greg's finger viciously poked him in the ribs.

Sara laughed. "Besides the sister thing, I'm glad it's going well. He was really worried, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he didn't want to say too much in front of Greg, but he resolved to have coffee with Sara when he got back and give her more details, including just how proud he was of Greg for the way he had dealt with everything thrown at him over the past week.

"So, is it just you joining Catherine and Lindsay?" Nick asked innocently.

"Her mom and sister are also going to be here, and Grissom is also coming."

"Oh? Grissom is coming?" Nick asked with the same innocent, honeyed tone. Greg clapped his hand over his mouth mockingly.

"Yeeeesss," Sara drawled, sensing something was up on the other end.

"Just you know how hard it is for him to get in the holiday spirit," Nick continued. "You should cheer him up. Tell him we said hey."

"I will," he could tell the grimace in her tone.

"Merry Christmas!" he laughed and allowed Greg to snatch the phone away from him.

Greg jumped up and walked further down the porch. The wind carried back one snippet of his conversation, "...I have no idea what he was implying..."

Nick laughed to himself and began to lazily swing himself, staring out upon the hills that surrounded the ranch.

Greg walked back towards him, snapping his cellphone shut. "You're evil."

"It's Christmas. You're allowed to address controversies at Christmas, it's tradition."

"Only if you're drunk, and you're not drunk." Greg flopped down next to him. "If I recall correctly, you wouldn't have been impressed a couple of years ago if someone had tried to point out our obvious relationship."

"What can I say, I was young and stupid back then."

"Yeah. Real young. Extremely stupid," Greg yawned and rested his head upon Nick's shoulder. "I'm so glad you never resolved your mentoring issues with Grissom in the same way Sara has."

"Funny," Nick growled.

Greg giggled to himself.

"Just keep laughing, Sanders."

Greg reached for Nick's hand and lazily drew patterns upon it with his thumb. "Stop being so sensitive. I know your psychological issues with Grissom aren't sexual."

"Are yours?" Nick teased.

"Yeah," Greg said quickly, "but Sara beat me to him."

Nick began to laugh. "Well, lucky for you I decided to take you on."

Greg pouted. "Okay, it's not funny any more. Take me on?"

"You're a handful," Nick groused.

Greg elbowed him in the ribs. Nick groaned, but laughed at the same time.

"But I love you anyway, for what it's worth," Nick murmured.

"Fine, you won some points back with that one," Greg rolled his eyes, and he settled back. "I wonder how Ginny's doing out at the Horror House."

"That's only at Halloween."

Greg bolted up to stare at him, and saw the small smirk playing upon his lips, so he settled back down. "Now who's being tricksy?"

"Learnt from the best."

"I just don't want her coming back singing Kumbaya and offering to electroshock us into heterosexuality."

Nick snorted in spite of himself. "We are talking about Ginny here. She would be more likely to go in with teargas and take the place out."

"Now, there's your typical Christmas story," Greg mused happily. He leaned against Nick happily, and used his foot to start the seat swinging again.

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

Ginny had had about all she could take, and she could take no more.

She had really been trying, for Jillian's sake. Laura had tried to be civil to her as soon as she entered the house, but Ginny could only give her what she hoped was the death glare of all death glares. At least, until Jillian had nudged her and she managed to mumble out something that sounded like "Mrykrsmss."

Jillian had then left Ginny by herself as she floated throughout the masses of people congregated in the main rooms, wearing her best smile and speaking in honeyed tones. But Ginny knew her well enough to read the falsity contained within them. Jillian was working the room like a seasoned politician soliciting votes. If there had been any babies in her immediate vicinity she would have been kissing them to woo over the ladies.

Ginny decided her grandmother could keep doing that job for the two of them. She edged around the fringes of the groups of people, trying to track down her young cousins. She found them after a few minutes, sitting in a corner of the dining room as their father crouched beside them in animated conversation. Ginny's eyes narrowed as she looked at Mark, the focus of so much recent turmoil in their family's life. She noted with satisfaction the yellowing, fading bruise stretched across his cheek and chin. She may not have been there to see its birth, but she was glad to see the aftermath.

She hid in between the cabinet and the wall so she wouldn't have to deal with him, and only when he moved on to another room did she make her presence known.

"Hey, guys."

Matthew and Will turned around at the sound of her voice, and she was rewarded with the two of them running over and tackling her in an excited hug.

They garbled out Christmas greetings to one another, and she pulled a chair beside where they had set up a new board game.

"Where's your mommy?" Will asked.

"Mom's at the ranch with the rest of the family," Ginny said uneasily, beginning with each passing second to dread the inevitability of where this conversation would lead them.

"Daddy said we weren't going out to the ranch," Matthew said, matter of factly.

"Oh?" Ginny bristled. "Did he say why?"

Matthew shook his head, absorbed in setting up the pieces on the board. "Nuh uh. He said we would understand when we were older."

"I wanted to go to the ranch," Will said.

"Me too," Matthew agreed.

Ginny closed her eyes briefly, at least thankful for that.

"Did you see Uncle Nick on the news?" Matthew asked, suddenly.

"Matthew! You're not meant to talk about that!" Will shushed him.

"Why aren't you meant to talk about it?" Ginny asked.

Will shrugged. "It makes Mommy cry."

Despite herself, Ginny looked out the French windows to where she could observe Laura passing a tray of sandwiches around the room. She couldn't reconcile the image the boys had painted for her of their mother with the woman who had turned her back on her family only days before. Somehow, Ginny didn't think she would ever really understand it all; and maybe Laura herself would never be able to reconcile the two warring factions within herself either.

"She made up a book," Matthew continued to inform her. "There are lots of things about what happened to Uncle Nick in it."

Stunned, Ginny realised she had more in common with her aunt than she wanted to admit. But that just made her even more indecipherable.

But did it mean that there was hope for Laura?

Ginny reached into her backpack and began tugging out the presents she had been entrusted to deliver. The boys' eyes lit up, but they had been well-taught to admire the cards and tags before ripping the paper to shreds and admiring what was within.

"Who's Uncle Greg?" Matthew asked, as he stared at the present Ginny had just handed him. This immediately piqued Will's interest.

"I don't know an Uncle Greg," Will looked back at Ginny.

Ginny looked desperately through the windows again for Jillian, and couldn't locate her. However, she began to realise that Jillian may have deliberately set it up this way.

"Is he really our uncle?" Matthew asked.

Ginny nodded. "Yep, of course he is."

"But he's not my mommy's brother, whoever he is," Will said, suspiciously.

The kid had a sharp mind, Ginny had to give him that. She hoped it would allow him to escape if he needed to, when he got older. "No, he's your uncle in the same way that my dad is your uncle. You know, because he's married to your mom's sister."

"Who is Uncle Greg married to?" Will asked, as Matthew was by now distracted by the present and patiently waiting for the okay to open it.

This conversation was getting harder by the minute.

"Aunt Jess?" Matthew asked, brightening.

Ginny almost snorted at the thought. "Technically, he's not married to anyone..."

"Then how can he be our uncle?" Matthew finally asked, his finger itching at the tape on the bright paper.

"Because he's with your Uncle Nick," Ginny explained in a rush.

The two boys took this in for a moment.

"But boys don't marry boys," Will said slowly, as if Ginny was slow on the uptake.

"Only because of stupid laws," Ginny muttered, then shook her head clear. "Well, he is as married as married as he can be to your Uncle Nick."

"I don't get it," Matthew said.

"You don't have to get it," Ginny told him, "it just is."

"Ginny," came a cold-sounding voice.

Ginny winced, and turned to confront her aunt. "Hey, Laura."

"May I speak with you?"

Definitely a reason to wince. Ginny turned back to the boys. "Don't forget to open your presents."

"Bring that present with you," Laura instructed.

"Which present?" Ginny asked, her skin crawling.

"The one from Nick."

She can't even say Greg's name, Ginny thought coldly. The two boys immediately started voicing their protests at a gift being taken away from them, but their mother silenced them with a raised hand.

Ginny gave them an apologetic smile, and took the gift back.

She followed Laura into a small guestroom, away from everybody else. She steeled herself for the inevitable onslaught, and wished her grandmother was here to back her up.

"I'm just giving the boys their presents," Ginny said immediately.

"You were doing more than that," Laura stared her down.

"What was I doing?"

"You were..." Laura sighed, and trailed off. "You know exactly what you were doing."

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, stuffing the present into her backpack. "He's a member of our family, you can't pretend he doesn't exist."

"I have to do what's best for my own family." But Laura had crossed her arms over her chest, a prime defensive mode.

"They are your family as well!"

"Nick has made his decision, and I have had to make my own."

Ginny used the only weapon she had. "If you've made your decision to pretend he doesn't exist anymore, why are you still holding on to that scrapbook?"

Laura flinched noticeably. She remained silent, under Ginny's steely gaze.

"Well?" Ginny demanded.

"I know it's easy for you to think I'm evil," Laura said softly, "but I have my own beliefs, and I have to stick by them."

"Mark's beliefs, you mean."

"I can think for myself, Virginia."

"Then prove it."

Laura shook her head, and started to leave.

"Just letting you know," Ginny said coldly, "I'm holding onto that present, and they're going to get it one day, somehow. Maybe one day when they are permitted to think for themselves." She let that sink in, then scrabbled around in her backpack and held out another present to her aunt. "This is for you and Mark, from Nick and Greg. After everything, they still wanted to give it to you."

Her aunt stared at her, opened her mouth to reply, then thought better of it and disappeared back down the hallway.

Ginny wanted to start throwing things against the wall, but she was starting to think she was getting too old for such melodramatics, no matter how momentarily satisfying they could be. Besides, she knew that Jillian would make her tidy it up before they left. So she stuck the present back in her bag, and tried to figure out the best way to escape with the least amount of people to run into.

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

Jillian found Ginny about half an hour later, sitting in her car, half-slumped over the wheel. She sat up quickly when Jillian opened the door and got into the passenger's side.

"Ready to go?" Jillian asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Ginny jammed the keys savagely into the ignition.

"What's wrong?"

The motor exploded into life, and so did Ginny. "This was a waste of time! And the worst possible way to spend a Christmas morning ever! Why did you make me come with you?" As she realised what her grandmother asked her the other day, she cried, "I didn't even take any photos!"

"That wasn't really the point of us coming here."

"It wasn't?" Ginny asked in confusion.

Jillian shook her head. "We were here to plant a seed."

"Plant a seed?" Ginny rolled her eyes, and threw the car into gear. "Suddenly we're farmers?"

"We were here," Jillian continued, "to let Matt and Will know that our family still cares about them, that there is a new family member, and that we will still be here if they ever want, or are able, to come to us."

"But it wasn't successful!" Ginny pointed out as her foot came down heavily on the accelerator. "Laura wouldn't even let me give them their present!"

"But you got the ball rolling. Their cool, older cousin, whom they idolise and take notice of everything she says, introduced the concept of their new uncle, and by the time I got to them they had nothing but questions about him."

"You did that deliberately," Ginny said, with awe.

Jillian smiled craftily. "And no matter how old you get, it's hard to do battle with your mother. Laura couldn't control me like she could you."

Ginny felt slightly ashamed of herself for crumbling so easy, but Jillian wouldn't let her get away with it. "It was a team effort, dear. You planted the seed, I germinated it. It can only grow from there."

"I don't have the patience for gardening," Ginny snorted.

Jillian sighed, although it wasn't an entirely unhappy one. "Luckily, I do."

***

Although neither of them said anything, both men were waiting anxiously for the return of Jillian and Ginny from their misadventures. Nick and Greg wandered aimlessly from activity to activity within the various rooms of the ranch house; meandering from Gray and Sally cheating in Texas Hold'em against Tony; to watching Beth, Marcie and Bill preparing food in the kitchen for the traditional Christmas Day dinner; to not giving their best performances on the Playstation against Max and Allison. Greg even listlessly competed with both kids in Dance Dance Revolution, making Nick smile as his Converse-clad feet slapped against the plastic dance mat.

"You are not a natural dancer," he teased as Greg jumped around in the middle of a move and faced him. Greg childishly stuck out his tongue and then was forced to turn away as the next move displayed on screen.

"I'd like to see you try this," Greg panted, as he and Allison started looking as if they were background ho's in a hip-hop video.

"I'm smart enough not to embarrass myself," Nick said.

"Then why do you keep watching me, if I'm so embarrassing?" Greg wheezed as he and Allison both kicked forward and jumped back.

Nick remained silent, and Greg knew he had him.

"You can't... stop... watching," Greg grinned, and gave a little ass-wiggle for Nick's benefit on the next move.

"I'm beating you," Allison informed him proudly, unaware of the flirting going on behind her back, her tongue sticking out slightly to the left in concentration.

"Game's not over yet," Greg shrugged, jumping on the spot.

Nick watched the clock countdown to zero, and flash red. "Famous last words."

"I won!" Allison crowed.

"That you did," Greg panted, his hands on his hips as he tried to regain his breath.

"Do you wanna play again?"

Greg shook his head hurriedly. "Nope. I'm too old. Challenge your brother."

He gave Max an underhand hi-five as they slid past each other. Greg threw himself down next to Nick as Max joined his sister on the mat and the maddening music started up again.

"Look at you," Nick's arm snaked around his shoulder, his hand resting easily against Greg's chest, still heaving from the exertion. "Your clubbing days are over."

"My clubbing days are long gone. I landed my man," Greg agreed. "Allison's, on the other hand, are just beginning."

"Yeah, we'll take her back to Vegas and you can show her the ropes." Nick shook his head, watching the two hyperactive children bounce around like monkeys in front of the television. "And by the way, you didn't find me in a club."

"Yeah," Greg countered. "In a hospital. I should have hung out in them more often, apparently."

Nick shook his head again, restraining his laughter when the sound of a car coming up the driveway made them exchange looks, jump up and cross to the window.

Ginny had already pulled her car in beneath one of the trees and seemed to be out the door before the ignition had even been switched off. Jillian followed more slowly and a little wearily.

"Those are not happy faces," Greg observed.

"No," Nick agreed, sadly. "Not at all."

Leaving Max and Allison to continue the revolution, they made their way to the front door and bumped into Ginny, who was pushing it open as she trudged inside.

"Hey," she said in a tired voice.

"How did it go?" Nick asked.

"Mmmrumphhh," was her inaudible response as she pushed past them, and up the stairs to her room.

Jillian stepped through the door, and watched her granddaughter disappear. "She probably needs to detoxify."

"Too much Christmas spirit?" Greg suggested.

Jillian rested her hand on his arm, and smiled a little too brightly. "If only."

Beth emerged from the kitchen, taking in the scene before her and silently asking her mother a question with a single glance.

"Upstairs," was all Jillian replied.

"Thanks," Beth nodded, smiled at Nick and Greg, and climbed the stairs to comfort her daughter.

"What happened, Mom?" Nick asked, steering her towards the dining room, which unlike the kitchen and the living room, was empty.

"Both Laura and Mark pretended nothing had happened, but Laura and Ginny had words when she tried to give the boys your present."

"She wouldn't..." Nick shook his head, and felt Greg's fingers against his ribs as if to hold him in place.

"I'm putting them in the cupboard, dear. They'll get them one day."

"That cupboard is going to be full before they're allowed to collect them," Nick said bitterly.

"Maybe," Jillian shrugged, although not callously. "But surely the most important thing is that one day they will get them, not how long it takes. Now, I better go and check on the preparations for dinner, because I'm sure Marcie will have lumps in the gravy, and Kat will have burnt the yams. And God knows what your father will have destroyed."

As she left them, Nick felt Greg's grip on him tighten as he leaned in and asked softly, "When did your mother become Yoda?"

"I heard that!" Jillian's voice floated in from the kitchen.

Nick chuckled as Greg jumped guiltily. "She also has great hearing."

Greg soberly released his hand, pulled out a chair from under the table, and sat down. "It's a bit anticlimactic, isn't it?"

Nick sat opposite from him. "I guess so."

"I've watched too many stupid Christmas movies," Greg admitted. "Where you think the simple magic of the season will cause all wrongs to be righted, all differences to be forgiven, and new alliances to be forged. And then you stand around the piano and sing carols, and Snoopy comes in to do the Snoopy dance."

Nick stifled a laugh. "We don't have a piano here at the ranch, miel*."

"Okay, we would gather around the stereo."

"There's no anthropomorphized beagle, either."

Greg snapped his fingers. "That's what's missing!"

"We have a lot to be thankful for."

"I know."

They sat in silence for a while, until Greg broke it by musing, "The least it could do is break the drought and snow."

"Keep wishing, G."

Greg stretched lazily. "Damn stupid Christmas movies," he repeated, but with a smile this time. "I'm going to go and see if they need any help in the kitchen. Coming?"

Nick grinned at the ease and fluidity Greg now displayed in navigating through the house, obviously feeling as if he belonged in it. He didn't want to get too overly sentimental, primarily because it meant Greg would tease him for the rest of the day. But he couldn't help but feel, Christmas movie promises of miracles and some personal dramas aside, that this holiday had turned out to be the best he had ever had.

"Hey! Earth to Stokes!" Greg waved his hand in front of his face.

Nick focused, and slapped his hand away with mock irritation. "Right behind you."

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

It was during Christmas dinner that a more sombre mood began to settle in. Jillian felt it first, in fact, she felt as if she may even have been the one to start it. While sipping at her wine between courses, she looked at Nick and Greg sitting at the far end of the table and realised that this was their final night at the ranch. That they would be the first of the eventual exodus as the holiday drew to a close. It wasn't their fault of course; she knew they had had to fight for the amount of time they had gotten from the lab, and especially to be able to take it together. She also knew that in previous years they had had to take separate times and vacations as well, and she wondered how they had coped with it.

The past couple of Christmases that Nick had been at the ranch he had seemed even more distanced and closed off than ever before. Sure, he had put on the right faces and pulled off the correct reactions, but she could see the sadness behind his eyes. Little did she know at the time it was because he was missing the person who should have been there as well. Instead she had just written it off as the pressure of his job getting to him.

But that was behind them now, and it seemed as if Nick had finally become whole in her eyes. She had never thought her son was lacking in any sense of the word, but now that his defenses were down and he had let his family in fully he seemed... more at ease. This was her son the way he should always have been, and she wished they all could have allowed this to happen years before. But then, maybe it would never have turned out as well as it had this year.

Cursing her wandering and wavering mind, Jillian shook her head slightly to clear it and looked up again to see Nick smiling at her. She raised her glass towards him, and he did the same in a silent toast to all that was good. Greg's eyes then swam into focus behind his partner's, and he flashed her his no-holds barred smile.

She tried not to think of Laura, and how happiness always seemed to come at a price. Or the price that Laura was paying for whatever happiness she thought she would find. She didn't want to lose her daughter, and she wished she were here, regardless of how profoundly they disagreed. Her absence was felt more than those of Gray's children who had decided to holiday with friends, because her rejection had a stamp of permanency to it.

But they were all adults, and they all had their own decisions to make.

She felt Bill's hand on her arm and his breath against her ear as he asked if she was okay.

It wasn't the time to tell him everything she was feeling, and he couldn't be fobbed off with a ‘fine'; they had been together too long for even the simplest of white lies to be accepted.

"It's our final night all together," she replied simply, knowing there would be much more to say as they prepared for bed later that night.

"But it's not our final night forever," he whispered.

She smiled, still looking at her family around the table. "Damn straight it's not."

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


"I want to be your parents when we're their age," Greg said as he stripped off his shirt and threw it across the room at his partner.

The shirt hit Nick in the face, and he tossed it away with disdain. "That's one of those sentences where you're going to have to explain it a little further, G."

Greg smiled at him disarmingly as he shucked off his shoes. "Did you see the way they were looking at each other over dinner?"

Nick allowed himself to grin, despite the fact he was dealing with a subject that could throw anybody, no matter how old they were. "Yeah."

"Yeah," Greg mocked him as he wriggled his way out of his cargo pants. "Man, they were looking at each other as if they were even more in love with each other than when they first met."

"Okay, it's nice."

"Nice," Greg echoed again, shaking his head. "It was like they wanted to race each other to the bedroom."

Nick repressed his automatic shudder. "I wouldn't go that far, babe."

The cargo pants sailed across the floor and landed on Nick's shoes. He sighed and bent down to pick them up. Greg stood before him, at ease, in nothing but his boxers.

"I hope we'll still be wanting to shag each other senseless when we're in our sixties."

Nick licked his lips, a habit that Greg found endearing. "I don't think that'll be a problem."

Greg grinned cockily, and jumped into bed.

"Are you just going to wear these tomorrow again?" Nick asked absentmindedly, realising he was still holding the cargo pants.

Greg gave him a blank look. "What?"

"I just want to know whether to stick these in the suitcase or just leave them out."

Greg pouted. "You're packing? Right at this moment?"

"Well, I've already done most of it," Nick moved over, oblivious, to where he had set up the open suitcases on the chairs by the window, and hung the pants over the back of the seat. "I'm just wondering what to leave out for tomorrow. I like being prepared."

He turned back, to be hit in the face by Greg's boxers.

Laughing, he took the hint and started undressing.

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

Greg opened his eyes at about two in the morning, and he could tell by Nick's breathing that he was awake as well. He rolled over to face him.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked, surprised that he hadn't woken up, as he was so attuned to Nick when he had them that he would awake immediately when Nick started thrashing in his sleep.

Nick shook his head. "No. Why are you awake?"

Greg shrugged, and yawned. "Just woke up, no reason. Why are you?"

Nick grinned, and rubbed Greg's lower lip. "Just woke up, no reason."

"Ah, then why haven't you fallen asleep again? You see, I have you to blame for the fact that I haven't... so what's your excuse?"

Nick moved in closer to him. "I just started thinking that we'll be leaving here in less than six hours."

"I know. There's part of me that wishes we didn't have to go."

"I'm really happy you liked it so much here."

"Well, it's good here, that's why."

"Yeah, it is."

They both burst out laughing, and had to stifle themselves.

"Understatement of the year," Greg wheezed.

Nick rubbed the mottled skin at the base of his back. "I think Mom would have liked us to stay here a little longer."

"Next year," Greg yawned, starting to feel sleep catching up with him again. "Maybe we'll come back in spring, when we can get some more time off. I want to see the baby animals... as long as we don't eat them..."

His words trailed off and he began to snore lightly. Nick laughed at his ability to drop off whenever and wherever. He burrowed himself deeper into Greg's warmth until it was blatantly impossible for him to get any closer.

He thought of the kid who had grown up in this room, often confused and becoming very good at creating a public persona at odds with what he felt inside. He wished he could somehow reach back in time and tell his teenage self that things might never be perfect, but he could be happy. All it took was time, he mused as sleep returned to him as well.

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

Nick had deliberately planned it when booking the tickets for their return home. It was the earliest morning flight, so there wouldn't really be any times for tears, and only quick goodbyes. There was nothing worse than the emotional baggage that came with an afternoon departure, where everybody sat around dreading the inevitable.

The morning passed in a blur from the moment that the alarm had forced them out of a deep, restful sleep tangled up in each other. They showered, Greg grossed Nick out slightly by wearing the same cargo pants from the day before, and they headed down to a breakfast where everybody wore brave faces. Even Ginny appeared slightly snuffly above her plate of waffles, although she tried to pass it off as being affected by the steam. Bill also appeared dangerously on the edge of making a speech, but the family took it upon themselves to act as tag team to deflect him so that composure could be maintained.

In fact, it only seemed like minutes before they were grabbing their bags and heading out to the truck for one final time. Gray had wanted to take on the job of driving them to the airport, and Nick was grateful for it as his mother was notoriously bad at airport farewells.

Greg found himself overwhelmed by a crush of Stokeses as they hugged him and then handed him onto the next member. As Beth's slightly tear-stained face wavered into focus before him, he held onto her for a little longer and made her laugh by saying, "And I think I will miss you most of all."

He could feel the ferocity of her hug as she whispered into his ear, "Thank you for bringing Nick back home."

He understood the immensity of what she was saying, but he didn't feel he could take the credit. "He brought himself back."

She wisely resisted the urge to give him a noogie, but he could tell she was thinking about it.

The role of uncle didn't seem so strange and ill-fitting as it once did, as his farewell hugs to Max and Allison were combined with fervent whispers from them that he was cool because he played Dance Dance Revolution with them. Young kids were so easy to please, and if they remained this easy his new job would be a cakewalk.

Especially when they were mini-Nicks in the making, like Ginny.

He couldn't stop himself from giving her a bearhug and repeating, "I will miss you most of all."

"You liar," she giggled, crushing him back. "I just heard you say that to my mom."

"I have a lot of love to go around."

She nodded her head towards Nick. "He's getting better, right?"

Greg couldn't look at him, as he knew it would give the game away. "No doubt about it."

Ginny relaxed. "Good." And then screamed as Nick came up behind her and goosed her ribs.

Greg was inducted into the manly art of chest thumping and backslapping as he said his goodbyes to Tony and Steve, and he felt the approaching lump in his throat as he realised there were only two people left.

Bill had his arm around Jillian, but Greg observed that she was also supporting him. A true partnership in every way. If he and Nick had half of what they shared by the time they were their age, they would still be truly blessed.

"So..." he said, not knowing how he could sum up the total awesomeness of the past five days.

"Well said, son," Bill teased, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Greg caught them off-guard by grabbing both in a bear-hug. "Thank you, thank you so much. I'm honoured to be part of this family." It was simple, but it was what he meant. He wasn't sure if he could open his eyes, he was too scared of breaking down if he looked at them. He felt two sets of arms rest against his back, and he was amazed at how much comfort he took from them.

"Look at the favourite son-in-law," Mark teased as he helped Nick with the last bag and threw it into the back of the truck.

"We have no favourites," Jillian said automatically.

Nick tugged at the back of Greg's jacket. "Come on, you're going to have to let him go, or else we'll miss our plane."

"I think that's your mother's devious plan," Bill released Greg, reached out for his son and pulled him in to a hug. "Don't leave it as long to come back next time, Pancho."

Nick swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I won't, Cisco."

Jillian's eyes shone, and Nick could tell she was finding it difficult to hold back the tears. He hugged her with his other arm and whispered thanks.

"No thank you's," she said, trying to sound stern but failing. "We love you both very much."

Now Nick felt as if he might break down, so it was time to give her one last squeeze and join Greg and Gray by the truck.

Once the engine started, the finality of the goodbyes settled in, and tears began to flow a little more freely. As the family and the ranch became mere specks in the rearview mirror, Nick closed his eyes and rested his head against the closed window.

"Hey, Babystokes," Gray said gently. "It's all good. And now there's no need to keep running."

"I never ran," Nick murmured, his eyes still closed. "But maybe I just hid out a little."

"No need to now. And there never was any reason to in the first place."

Nick opened his eyes and looked at his brother in wonder, but Gray kept his eyes on the road. Nick looked back to Greg, who gave him a wide smile. He returned it.

The trip to the airport continued mostly in silence, except for when Gray cracked a joke about going in for donuts to the same Krispy Kreme he and Nick had almost come to blows in only five days before.

Was it really only five days? Greg wondered to himself. It seemed so much longer. So much had happened, and he felt he had lived a year's worth of drama in such a short time. And yet it had had all the good drama as well. Looking back, despite the night that Nick had punched Mark and it seemed like they could never be accepted readily into the family, it had all turned out so much better than he ever could have dreamed. For years, he had felt a hole in himself as he had watched Nick interact with ease around his own family when they visited San Francisco, and he had begun to believe he might never find that in Texas. But he had. Their worlds had merged, and all their relationships would be stronger for it.

As he pulled in to one of the parking lots at the airport, Gray rested his hands upon the wheel. "I hope you're not offended, but I'm going to say farewell here. I... just don't like saying goodbye inside."

Rather than look hurt, Nick grinned. "Every time, Gray, every time. I just don't know why you let someone drive us who will actually walk in the door to see us off."

"Maybe because I like spending an extra forty-five minutes with my little brother," Gray countered.

"Aww, he's being sentimental," Nick prodded Greg as they climbed out of the car and made their way to the truck bed.

"Play nice," Greg growled as he went to steal an abandoned trolley from a few spaces down.

Now that they were alone, Gray gave his brother the customary Stokes chest-bash-and-slap-on-back. But this time he held the hug for a little longer. "I really like Greg," he muttered. "And I promise I'll call you."

"Thank you," Nick pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "That means a lot."

No sooner had Greg rocked up with the trolley when Gray grabbed him for the chest bash and slap. "It was good to meet you, Greg."

Winded, Greg could only nod, and reflect that he had now been fully indoctrinated into the traditional male Stokes greeting/farewell ritual. Already. He must have made a good impression.

Before he could pull away, Gray whispered, "Take care of my baby bro for me."

"I always do," Greg assured him.

Gray shook his hand vigorously. "I thought as much."

He watched them step onto the people-mover that would take them to their terminal, and tipped his hat in one final farewell as they waved from the windows.

"Well," Nick said, suddenly exhausted.

"Well," Greg echoed.

They both began to laugh.

By the time they had been processed and gone through security, they were ready to go back to sleep. They sat in the waiting area beside their gate, and Greg was pleasantly surprised when Nick didn't shy away from Greg's arm encircling his shoulders but leaned into it and rested his head within Greg's neck, despite a number of stares they had gotten from a few passers-by.

"You're really tired, baby," Greg whispered.

"In a good way," Nick replied.

"Yeah, me too." He marvelled at Nick's new-found openness, and hoped it would last. Perhaps the exorcism of some of the demons of his past, despite the ongoing nature of some of the others, had finally helped him find some peace with the present.

Their public intimacy was only broken as they were called to board. Once they were seated on the plane Nick curled into him again, and as the land fell away beneath them, Greg found himself strangely blessing the state of Texas and all it had given him.



* honey

***

Epilogue

Gray kept his promise; Greg was thoroughly amused that he and Nick had only been home just coming up to four hours, and were in the deep recesses of exhausted, almost comatose sleep when the ringing of Nick's cell woke the both of them. But Greg was also pleased by the boyish grin that stretched across Nick's face as he spoke to his brother and assured him they were home safe. As Nick crawled back into bed, Greg wrapped himself around his partner and murmured, "He wasn't kidding when he said he wouldn't take so long to call this time."

Nick gave him a sweet kiss on his hairline. "Nope, he sure wasn't. He's threatened to call in a couple of days again." The happiness in his voice was undisguisable.

They were wakened again an hour later by Sara ringing to see if they were back home. Nick handed that one off to Greg, and changed the message on their machine to a temporary one stating that yes, indeed, they were home safe, and they would call everyone soon, and to please let them get some sleep.

"Cells off," he growled as Greg collapsed back in beside him.

"Cells off," Greg agreed.

As Nick drifted off to sleep he heard Greg murmur, "Still, it's nice to have so many people who care." He felt himself smile, and Greg's hold on him tighten, and that was the last thing either of them remembered for the next six hours of uninterrupted blissfully restful sleep.

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

A week later, on the second day of the new year, they arrived home after a gruelling shift to find a package leaning against their door.

"Fed Ex came really early," Nick mused as he looked once again at the sky that was still only beginning to lighten with the morning sun.

"Or really, really late," Greg smiled wearily as he bent to pick it up. His smile widened as he recognised the writing. "Hey, it's from Ginny!"

Nick peered over his shoulder as he unlocked their front door. "Okay, what's she up to?"

"Well, hurry up and let us in, and we can find out." Greg pushed him slightly and Nick fell against the door. Nick gave him an exasperated look, and swung it open to let him enter.

Greg's shoes were kicked off, and he was sprawling on the sofa before Nick could even untangle the keys from the lock and shut the door. He stood back, dumbfounded at his partner's speed. Greg grinned up at him, and patted the space next to him. "Care to join me?"

"I'm hot and sweaty, and I smell," Nick complained. "I want a shower."

"As do I," Greg rolled his eyes. "Can you really wait that long to see what she's sent us?"

Nick decided he couldn't, shucked off his own shoes and fitted himself in besides Greg as he started unwrapping the flat, but still bulky, parcel.

"Brown paper," he admired. "Very traditional."

Impatient, Nick reached over and began to tear at the paper with him.

"Hey!" Greg protested. "You're usually so careful, tearing off each strip of tape, carefully folding the paper away, ironing it for re-use..."

"I do not iron it," Nick groaned. "I smooth the creases out. And I just want to see what it is."

Greg slapped his hands away as he began to pull out the flat box contained within the paper. A note fluttered out and fell to the floor. Greg began to open the box as Nick leaned down to retrieve the note from the carpet.

"Oh, wow," Greg breathed.

Nick bobbed back up, with a slight headrush from being upside down and righting himself too quickly. "What?"

Greg turned the frame in his hands around so that Nick could see, and he found his own breath caught as well.

It was one of the photos that Ginny had taken while they were all sprawled on the bed together, what now seemed like months ago. It was a candid shot of him and Greg, when Greg had held him down to ensure would be captured in a photograph. Greg's arm was encircled around Nick's waist, his hand against his belly. Nick's teeth were exposed, and the very tip of his tongue was showing between them in a fit of genuine laughter, while Greg had been frozen with a more bemused expression as he stared down at the man in his arms. She had enlarged the photo, desaturated the colour so that it was in black and white, and slightly overexposed it so that it had an almost ethereal quality.

"It's beautiful," Nick finally said.

"It is," Greg agreed, also finding it slightly difficult to speak.

"We look happy," Nick said.

"We were," Greg laughed, then realised that that sounded historical, so added, "We still are. Y'know, in case you were confused."

"No confusion here." Nick leaned in and kissed him, delighting in the warmth of his mouth and the firmness of the body pressed up against him.

"Nothing better," Greg gave him that lazy smile he loved. "So, what does the note say?"

Remembering the paper in his hands, Nick opened it and began to read. "Howdy to my two favourite uncles. I know Jillian the Great always says we should never have favourites, but we'll keep that as our little secret. Anyway, I was playing around with my new software, and I really liked this photo. So did JTG. She demanded a copy, and it is now hanging on the wall of shame, I mean, fame. I gave her a copy of her very own on the last day I was there, and every time she passed it she would touch it and get a little teary. So who doesn't have favourites, huh? Should I send a copy to Laura and Mark? Just joking. Although, maybe I'm not... love, Ginny."

"Imagine Laura's face if she did," Greg laughed.

"No, if we're to send one to her and Mark it should be one of us making out," Nick grimaced. He still wasn't at the stage where he could begin to laugh rather than get upset. Greg wasn't sure if Nick ever would, whereas he himself had to laugh or it would eat him away inside.

They lay in silence for a while, staring at the photo, and then punctuating that by staring at each other, drinking each other in.

"So, hall of shame, huh?" Greg asked.

"It's an honour," Nick said wistfully, thinking of his mother hanging the photo and stepping back to admire it. He felt grateful for the fact that he and Greg were finally on somebody else's wall other than their own.

"Come on babe," he stood up, and pulled Greg along with him. "Maybe it's time to start our own hall of shame."

"In our own little Vegas ranch?" Greg smiled. "I'll get the hooks, you find the right place for it to start."

He went to move away, but Nick pulled him back for another kiss. "Happy new year."

"Happy new year," Greg echoed, giving him another kiss, and disappearing into the kitchen. Nick smiled, and began to weigh up the best options for hanging their new gallery, to start with the photo whose twin was now hanging fifteen hundred miles away.

"It's a good place," Greg said, handing him a packet of adhesive hooks.

Nick knew he was talking about more than their intended gallery, he was talking about where they had been, what it had taken to get there, where they were right now, and where they would always be.

"Yeah," he said happily. "It's a damn good place."


THE END.

***

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