Title: Frightful (As in, "The weather outside is...)
By: jettblack0110
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13 for language
Genre: Angst, romance
Summary: Wherein the ground is white and Nick gets hit with a ball of frozen water.
Warnings: None

***

Nick Stokes leapt out of the way as a heavy silver picture frame hurtled through the air toward his head. The frame crashed against the wall, scoring the paint, before shattering on the floor. Nick looked back at his attacker.

"G, look, it's complicated..."

"It's not complicated, Nick!" spat an infuriated Greg Sanders. "You call them up, you tell them, and then we can go to Cath's party together. Or you don't call them and we still go to Cath's party together."

"I can't just call my parents and casually tell them that I've been fucking a guy for a year..."

"Just fucking a guy?" Greg's tone had shifted completely. What was rage and passion was now replaced with quiet reserve.

"Yeah. No. No! Greg, you know you're more than that. I just mean that..."

"What?"

"That's the part they'll focus on. They won't see that you're more to me. They want grandbabies, and you can't have grandbabies. Not to mention the fact that their youngest son is a queer."

"Why is that a problem? You're a grown man, Nick, you can make your own decisions."

A little burst of anger fired through Nick. "Look, Greg, just because your parents were hippies and are almost happier that you're gay..."

"What the hell, Nick? Because your parents are narrow-minded you have to take a stab at mine?"

"No! I was just making a point."

"Whatever, Nick. Look, if this relationship is just going to be a hindrance for you and your family, maybe I should just leave." With that, Greg stalked off toward the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Nick stood rooted to the spot, terrified and angry. So what if he didn't want to tell his parents yet? He was taking his time with things, he didn't want to rush what promised to be the best thing that ever happened to him. At the same time, Greg was acting like a spoiled child. Nick stormed through the house and yanked open the bedroom door. Greg was moodily throwing his clothes into a duffel bag, not bothering to arrange them or even fold them.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked, a little stunned. The times they had fought before, Greg always threatened to leave, but he would always just sulk in the bedroom until they made up. This time, however, it looked as though he was making good on the threat.

"What does it look like? I'm not important enough to let your parents know that you're queer, so I'm going," Greg said in a monotone voice.

"This is bullshit, Greg! You know I love you! You're acting like a child!" Nick was growing more furious by the second. He closed his hands into fists, digging his blunt nails into his palms, and he began to take deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. At Nick's accusation, Greg's head snapped up. He walked toward Nick angrily, looking as though he was ready to hit him.

"You know what, Nick?" He said, punctuating each word with a jab to Nick's chest. Nick looked on expectantly as Greg wrestled with himself, his heart fighting against what was bubbling in his mind. Evidently his heart lost. "Fuck you." The room was absolutely dead silent; Greg's mouth was slightly ajar like he couldn't believe what he had just said.

"Get the hell out of here," Nick breathed. Greg turned and stomped out of the room.

"I'm gone," Greg yelled as he slammed the front door so hard that a pane of glass crashed to the floor.

Nick cursed, kicking the couch on his way to the door. Wind from outside was blowing into the house through the broken pane of glass. As Nick went to clean up the shards on the floor, his foot nudged something that skittered across the floor. The picture frame that Greg had thrown at him. Nick gingerly picked up the twisted piece of metal and carefully extracted the photo. Immediately his anger dissipated, and a nagging remorse took its place. It was a picture of him and Greg, taken by Greg's mother when they vacationed in San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge was in the distance on that foggy morning, and they had been standing on the balcony of Greg's old home, facing the bridge. Nick had his arm around Greg's waist, and Greg had rested his head on Nick's shoulder, giving Nick the freedom to lay his cheek on Greg's hair. It seemed like they stayed there for hours, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before they heard the distinct click of a camera behind them. They had turned to see Greg's mother waving the camera triumphantly before scuttling off to make breakfast. For Christmas she had given them the photo in the gorgeous silver frame, and while it showed neither of their faces, it was their favorite picture of them together.

Nick's chest ached a little as he smoothed the slightly crumpled photo. This was not how things were supposed to be, Nick thought. They were supposed to grow old together, to exchange rings metaphorically if not legally, to give their hearts to one another. Now Nick didn't know if Greg would ever come back.

--

Greg heard the front door slam hard behind him, and he heard the little pane of glass shatter inside. At that moment he almost turned around, already ashamed of what he had said to Nick. But he also had a valid point. If Nick was too afraid to tell his parents about their relationship, then pursuing said relationship was pointless. And as much as it pained Greg to walk away at that moment, he did it.

His own car was at the lab, since Nick had driven them home last night. So Greg had to get to his apartment on foot, which was looking more and more distasteful as he continued on. The sky above him was a steely blue-grey, the telling color of the storm to come. The wind whipped through his hair and caused his jacket to flap annoyingly. Greg walked with his face upraised to examine the cloud formations. It was though they imitated what he was feeling. Far west Greg could see the edge of the storm, where the sun peeped back through the clouds. But above him, the clouds were violent and seething, just like Greg. They coiled and swooped, and Greg could smell the foreboding tang of ozone, which meant that this storm would be much more than a harmless rain shower. No, this one would be a rager, almost like the recent fight between the two lovers. Greg chewed his lip as he walked down the street. With each step the desire to turn and run back into Nick's arms grew, but something in Greg fought the feeling.

As the clouds sank closer to the earth, the sun disappeared altogether. Greg trudged on through the growing wind, wishing he hadn't left his flashlight in Nick's house. Wishing even more that he had thought to bring an umbrella. He was going to be soaked by the time he got home. Except his apartment wasn't really his home. Nick was his home. Greg stopped with a little gasp as this realization seeped into his being. He was walking away from happiness. Albeit they couldn't be open about their relationship, Greg was genuinely happy. He had never had anyone like Nick. No one else had lain in bed with him all day, just to get up in the dark to party. No one would sit and watch television for hours like Nick did, no one made love to him like Nick did.

Now Greg was lost. He wasn't sure what he wanted more: an open relationship or a secret one with someone he truly loved.

The sky flashed violently, and Greg's teeth rattled with the force of the thunder. Raindrops speckled the pavement around him, occasionally splashing on his hair and shoulders. The lightning continued to flicker, making Greg rethink his hasty retreat. There was no way he was going to avoid this storm.

That's when Greg heard, rather than saw, the sheet of rain unleashed from the sky. Water rushed down in torrents, drenching him in just a few moments. His bag grew heavy and waterlogged, and Greg threw it down and kicked it out of frustration. He was even with a small park, one with a tiny playground and about an acre of grass. But next to the playground was a covered picnic area. Greg gave the area a cursory glance before grabbing the strap of his duffel and dragging it over to the table. Thankful to get out of the rain, Greg sat on the bench, cradling his dripping head in his hands. He would just have to wait out the storm until he could get to his apartment. No need to catch a cold.

He seemed to have reached his makeshift shelter just in time as the enormous raindrops turned into pea-sized hailstones. He reveled in the cacophony of the ice hitting the metal playground, the cement sidewalk, and the wooden roof of the picnic area; the turmoil of noise distracted him from the turmoil of his heart. The hail fell with such intensity that already the grass was white...it looked like the first snow in decades had fallen in Las Vegas. Greg leaned over towards the grass and scooped up a handful of the frozen balls of ice. He rolled them between his hands, watching as they melted away from his body heat. Another handful, this time just holding them until they packed into an improvised snowball. Greg smiled to himself, thinking of a time when he was younger, visiting relatives during the winter and playing in the snow. He scooped up a massive amount of hailstones and packed them together until his hailstone ball was harder than a rock.

"Greg?"

Greg jumped violently and turned to see Nick standing in his shelter. Nick was wearing a rain jacket, and Greg could see his truck in the distance.

"What do you want?" Greg said meanly, amazed that his heart could feel one way and his mouth could spout the exact opposite.

"Greg, I...I'm...just come home please?"

"To our invisible home so I can be your invisible boyfriend in this invisible relationship?" Greg got up and circled around the picnic table so that it rested between them. He clenched his fist around the freezing ball of ice.

"We can talk about this inside, where it's dry. You can get out of those wet clothes, G," Nick pleaded.

"I don't want to get out of these clothes, Nick. I don't care. You shouldn't care. They can't decide who you fuck, Nick. You shouldn't care!" With that, Greg flung the ball of ice. Instead of dodging it like he expected, Nick just stood there, looking at the spot on his chest where the ice had hit him. Greg had done it again, he had acted like a child, and he knew it. He felt his lower lip tremble, so before Nick looked at his face again, Greg pivoted and walked out to the hail-covered grass. He held his palms up to his eyes, willing away the burning that had started.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Greg started. Nick had followed him.

"Get away from me!" Greg yelled through the din of the falling ice. Nick wrapped his hand around Greg's bicep. Greg swung his arms, landing a couple punches on Nick's chest, but always easing up at the last second, not really wanting to hurt him. Nick pulled him closer, and Greg fought harder. With an almighty wrench, Greg broke away from Nick, backing until there was about three feet of space between them. Greg was gasping, little sobs escaping his throat and warms tears mixing with the freezing water on his face. Nick had said nothing. His face was blank, Greg couldn't read any emotion. Nick spoke.

"Greg, please, baby. Come home," Nick said. Greg's tears increased and there were two burning trails on his cold cheeks. Nick just stood there. He hadn't apologized. He just wanted Greg to come home. Greg felt something animalistic rear up inside of him, and before he knew it, he was charging Nick. His head collided with Nick's chest, knocking both of them to the ground. He resumed his half-hearted punching, but his sobbing was genuine. Nick made only one move the whole time. He extracted his big arms from between their bodies and proceeded to wrap them around Greg. Greg was suddenly exhausted and he simply lay on Nick's broad, warm chest, dampening the already soaked jacket as he continued to sob. One of Nick's hands threaded through Greg's hair, stroking calmly as the last of Greg's sobs shuddered through his body.

The hailstones grew bigger, the thunder louder. But in the middle of the storm, in the middle of a white field of ice, lay two men. The man on top had burrowed under the jacket of the other, as the bottom man held the shivering form. Not even God heard what was whispered into the embraced man's ear through the entire storm's racket.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I want everyone to know."

--

"Hello, Mrs. Stokes? Hi, this is Greg Sanders; I work with Nick in Las Vegas. Fine thanks, how are you? I just wanted to let you know that Nick and I are dating, and that I'm wearing his ring. Bye."

***