Title: Envy
Author: Kalimyre
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Summary: Gil is not jealous. Not even a little.

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Gil is not jealous. Jealousy is a useless, self-indulgent emotion and he has no patience for it. He's definitely not jealous. He can sit in his office and watch Nick and Greg in the break room, Greg draped across a chair, hands waving, laughing out loud, and not feel one speck of jealousy.

Envy, maybe, but that is entirely different. Envy, Gil decides, is a positive thing. It motivates self-improvement. It's healthy to wish that he could make Greg laugh that way. Nick makes it look effortless. Gil knows better.

Contrary to popular opinion, Gil does, in fact, have a sense of humor. He knows Greg finds him funny. He makes Greg smile all the time, with a subtle pun, a wry quip, a clever turn of phrase. But Greg is quick to smile, and does so easily and naturally, with the slightest provocation.

Gil envies that, too.

Greg looks up then, catches his gaze, his eyes still bright and full of laughter, and he grins knowingly. Gil frowns and looks at his desk. He knows he's a grouch sometimes, but Greg never seems to mind.

*

When Gil gets home that night, he's still feeling faintly out of sorts, and he stands in the kitchen and broods a little, feeling foolish about the whole thing but not quite able to let it go. Greg is just... he's so fun. Sometimes, when Gil is reminded how much Greg loves to laugh, he wonders just what Greg sees in him. Sometimes he feels like a dour, grumpy old man.

Greg slips in behind him while he's scowling at the pair of dirty bowls in the kitchen sink (remnants of last evening's ice cream indulgence, when Greg straddled his lap and took such joy in licking up every stray, melting drop of sweet). He wraps his arms around Gil's waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

"Hey," Greg says, kissing the side of his neck. "You hoping they'll wash themselves if you stare hard enough?"

Gil shrugs and makes a noncommittal sound. Greg is unruffled by his vaguely unhappy stance, and kisses him again, nuzzling behind his ear. Gil shifts, leaning into Greg, and realizes he's smiling. Greg nips his ear and he catches his breath, wriggling slightly. Greg gives a soft chuff against his shoulder and holds him tighter.

"You done?" Greg asks.

"Done?"

"Pouting."

Gil lifts an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Come on," Greg says, and Gil can feel him smile against the side of his neck. "Who are you kidding? I saw you tonight, watching me and Nick in the break room, giving us that face."

Gil is glad Greg is behind him, and can't see his expression, because he has the sinking feeling he looks like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Which face?" he inquires coolly, but he can't keep his mouth from twitching upward. Greg is teasing him, he knows. No one else teases him like this, with such playfulness. No one else seems to believe him capable of play.

"Somebody's jealous," Greg sing-songs, and adds another brief, darting lick to the soft, sensitive skin just below his jaw.

"I was not," Gil says emphatically.

Greg's silence is skeptical, and his gentle slap to Gil's belly is reproving.

"I wasn't," Gil insists. "Envious, maybe, but that's different. Entirely different."

"Really," Greg replies, and Gil can hear him smiling. "Is it now?"

"Yes. It is." Gil is aware that he sounds petulant, but he doesn't mind. Petulant seems like the right tone for this little game.

Greg is shaking his head, and he squeezes Gil again, fondly. "Gil," he says, "you crack me up."

And he laughs.

~~~

Fin

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