Title: Everything
By: Caster
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
A/T: My first ficlet. It came to me like a bolt of lighting; they always come when I'm trying to finish a chapter story. (It's the inevitable.) It's so short that it's almost not worth posting, plus it's fragmented and rather strange. My apologies if you don't quite grasp my creative vision because I can barely understand it myself. I'm still deciding on whether or not I like it… maybe you could make my mind up for me? -laughs-
Disclaimer: Not mine. And probably not yours either. Stinks, doesn't it?
Summary: A very short ficlet explaining what the term everything really means in 472 words.

***

(Some people need diamonds to feel they're loved.)

The house is silent.

The house is dark.

Nick stumbles in; he's tired.

He drops his bag.

He kicks off his shoes and wanders to the bedroom.

The house is waiting.

(Some people need gold or a ring to know it's true.)

"Hey sweetie," Greg whispers as Nick slides into bed, underneath the sheets. "You're home late."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I meant to call."

"It's nothing, honey. Tough shift?"

"You know it."

"I sure do."

The house is still. They breathe.

(Even more need flowers or a proclamation written across the sky.)

"How was your night?" Nick asks tiredly, wrapping his arms around Greg's warm body. His only anchor. His one hope.

His blessing.

"Like yours."

"Then it was hell."

"Yeah, honey. It was."

"Wish I was there to help."

"Wish I was there for you too."

The house is quiet. They speak.

(Some need a white wedding. Some need a cake. Some need one thousand guests.)

"We get next weekend off. We can do whatever we want."

"That'd be nice. Sleep late."

"Make breakfast."

"See the sun."

"The sun? What's that?"

Nick laughs and kisses Greg's forehead. "You are."

The house is cool. They smile.

(The occasional couple needs constant attention.)

"Did you get that phone bill in the mail?" Nick asks, lazily tracing love patterns over Greg's scars.

"Yeah. I can't believe it was so much."

"Phone calls to Norwegian relatives do that."

"Just wanted to let them know I was alive. E-mail is still an alien concept to them."

"I know. I don't mind."

"I know."

"Good."

The house groans. They laugh.

(There are those who need everything.)

"And how are they?"

"My grandpa? He's good. They bought a cat."

"A cat?"

"They can't have kids, so they bought a cat. Y'know, to keep them company."

"You sound a little wistful, G."

"I like cats."

"Do you want one?" Nick asks, genuinely curious. "I'll get us one."

"My fish'll get jealous."

Nick laughs again. "I just want you to have everything you want."

"You are everything," Greg whispers. "Now get some sleep, sweetie."

The house is dark. They adore.

(And then there are those who need only each other.)

Everything. Everything. You are everything.

The house is theirs.

They sleep.

FIN.