Title: In Regard To Family
By: Caster
Pairing: David/Nick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Period. To prove this, take a look in my bank accounts, or lack thereof.
Summary: Nick has eighty one minutes to uncover David Hodges' life.

***

He was sick.

No, "sick" seemed to be too lose of a term. Perhaps "deathly ill" was more appropriate, because that's exactly what he was. Sick was when you had a cough and fever. Deathly ill was when you were mentally calculating your funeral costs.

Nick stared up at the white ceiling of David's apartment, his body sprawled in every direction it could physically manage. A small mountain of tissues surrounded him, three boxes of cherry flavored throat lozenges were only an arm's stretch away, two empty glasses of water were standing on the coffee table, and a heavy blanket was covering him as he shivered beneath it. One moment he was freezing, the next he was burning up. His virus-saturated body just couldn't seem to make up its mind.

The point was, he was deathly ill. Miserable. Hot. Miserable. Cold. Miserable. Tired. And did he mention miserable?

David, being the man he was, had sympathy, but not enough to get within a ten foot radius of his boyfriend. So he had left Nick to fend on his own for an entire hour and a half, promising that when he returned, he'd be armed with soup, Vitamin C, and bottles of rubbing alcohol. Rubbing alcohol was possibly the most important item in the arsenal; David wiped down everything that Sick Nick might have touched, trying to keep the apartment as germ-free as he possibly could.

Nick glanced at the painfully loud clock, it's second hand ticking away the minutes. Seven minutes had passed since David left. Only eighty-three left to go.

With a throaty sigh, Nick kicked off the blankets and moved his aching body to the wall where a tantalizing ceiling fan switch was in the 'off' position. Now he was hot, his blood feeling as if it were boiling and roasting him internally. He flipped the switch on, savoring the cool breeze it produced and knew that in about four minutes, he'd be freezing again, cursing the fan and its inventor.

He turned around, taking note of his disastrous surroundings. He supposed he could do David a favor and clean up his mess, but that would involve walking to the kitchen, grabbing the garbage can, walking back… far too strenuous for a man in his current state. Still, along with sickness came boredom. He sniffed again, counting down the days until he could breathe through two nostrils and walk around without vertigo.

His wandering eye stopped at the movie shelf. With another look at the clock, he knew David would be back in eighty-two minutes and Nick desperately needed something to get his mind off how incredibly pitiful he felt.

With another sigh, he walked over, his eyes scanning the DVD titles. Needless to say, David didn't have much of a selection to choose from because he rarely had the time to watch anything anyway. Between their shifts, they were either working or sleeping with little time for other activities such as relaxing. A Beautiful Mind. Seen it. Dukes of Hazard on DVD. No, thanks. Enemy of the State. Too complicated for his fuzzy brain to handle. The Hunt for Red October. That one had possibilities. Who could resist Alec Baldwin and submarines?

He was about to take it down and pop it into the DVD player when he caught sight of some VHS videos hiding on the side. David had done an overhaul of his apartment last month, giving away all the things he didn't need any more and doing a general spring cleaning in the middle of summer. Nick was certain that David's tape videos had met the same fate as half his wardrobe: the donation box to Goodwill. What were they still doing there?

Nick set down his Tom Clancy in favor of examining the videos. They were obviously home movies; the video sleeves themselves were identical with a boasting text of ten hour recording time and the maximum picture quality printed on the covers. They were all turned inwards, hiding the labels. Nick choose one at random.

Grandmother Annetka's Birthday, 1998

Nick allowed his jaw to drop. He had been expecting recorded History Channel documentaries on World War II and some out-dated forensics shows. David didn't do home birthday parties or weddings or anniversaries, and he certainly didn't keep the video afterward. Nick quickly found another one.

Jeanette's Wedding, 1991

Fourth of July at Jacqui's, 2004

Christmas at Uncle Walter's, 1987

Eighty-one minutes until David got home; that was eighty-one minutes he could use to explore the inner workings of his significant other. David didn't talk about his family much although he frequently received calls from different relatives in different states, Nick having accidentally answered a month or so ago.

It had been his Aunt Beatrice, a spicy lady who had demanded to know why another person was in her nephew's apartment. David had quickly grabbed the phone right out of Nick's hand. Although Nick wasn't exactly eavesdropping, it was hard to ignore her loud, fiery words. She loved her nephew but was wary of his choices, demanding that he make himself as safe as he could.

"There's a man in your house, David! Why is that?"

"He's Nick, remember?"

"Of course I remember! You talked about him last month, but why is he there? Do you know him well enough to have him in your home?"

"We've been dating, au-''

"Dating, have you? Another man? Fine, date whoever you want. When were you planning to tell me, hm? At my grave?"

"I told you eight months ago in the Christmas card we sent."

"Card? No card ever came. Are you sure you sent it?"

"I sent it, stamp and everything."

"Your uncle must have- Borris, my nephew's Christmas card! Did you throw it away? I know you!"

An angry man's voice had replied in the background. Nick was pretty sure that David was going to rip his head off after the conversation and never allow him to touch the phone again, but instead he had sent him a rare apologetic look. It turned out that Uncle Borris had thrown out said Christmas card and David's aunt had spent the next hour demanding to know the details of Nick. "And how old is he? Does he work? No jobless man can support you, David! And what about his family? His history? Has he ever been sent to prison? Does your mother know about this? I can't say I approve if I've never met him, David. I'll have to see him! How does he treat you? What are his political views? And what does he look like? Send me a picture, David. I can't believe I didn't knowabout this sooner!"

Nick had been wary of the phone ever since.

Submarine adventure now forgotten, Nick took the videos and ambled over to the tape player, blowing the dust off the top. It wasn't used much, but he could change that. He quickly chose Fourth of July at Jacqui's, 2004 and slid it in, watching as a blue screen popped up before a fuzzy picture of an open grill began to form. The picture grew clearer and soon he was watching as someone's hand flipped burgers on too high of a heat. It was an odd way to start a home movie, but home movies were odd anyway.

"Greg, do you really know how to cook?" asked a voice that Nick immediately identified as Jacqui's. She was obviously the one holding the camera, recording Greg's progress at the grill. Nick winced, asking the exact same question. Those were, after all, some scary looking burgers.

"Not really. Hey, Bobby!" The camera zoomed out and looked up as a now fully visible Greg waved at Bobby Dawson from his perch at the grill. The bullet technician looked up from the picnic table; he had been setting it with red and blue plates before he had been disturbed by Greg's bellow for assistance. The camera faded out a bit as it looked out onto a sunny lawn, as most personal camcorders do. It slowly adjusted to the bright light of Nevada and Nick watched as Bobby quickly jogged over.

"Can you save them?" Jacqui asked. Bobby gave the burgers a grim looking before nodding. Nick silently wished him luck.

Jacqui, deciding it was time to begin the official narration, spoke as she watched Greg ceremoniously hand Bobby the spatula.

"Welcome to Jacqui Franco's backyard! It's July the fourth, two thousand and four, and we're wasting valuable sleeping time to celebrate together. This is Bobby. He's trying to save our poor hamburgers." She focused on Bobby again, who looked up from his task to wave. He was now donning an apron with the words "I usually cook naked" across it. Nick let out a snort of laughter.

"Say something, Bobby. We're leaving this tape for future generations to love and enjoy."

Bobby looked into the lens, wearing a serious expression. "Kids," he began, "This is your Uncle Bobby speaking. Whatever you do, no matter what the circumstances, never let Greg Sanders cook unless you like the taste of burnt cow."

Jacqui's laugher filtered in from the television's speakers and Nick had to laugh with her. Where had he been? Two thousand and four was before he and David had even started dating.

"Hey, I heard that!" came Greg's indignant voice. Jacqui turned the camera to the corner of the patio where Greg and a dark haired man were sitting close together, rocking gently on a porch swing.

"This is Greg and he likes to burn things," Jacqui explained. "Oh, and this is the lovely Ryan Wolfe, Greg's boyfriend. For some reason, he puts up with Greg's bad cooking."

"Oh, so one bad batch of burgers and I'm marked for life?" Greg asked, trying to appear upset but failing.

"That's how it works, oh master of bad cooking. Now say something for the camera," she said, obvious amusement in her voice. The Greg from two thousand and four grinned and waved obnoxiously. The handsome man next to him laughed.

"All right, future generations. This is you Uncle Greg speaking. Remember, always say "no" to drugs and bad eighties music. Plus, this entire hamburger thing was a set up! I should actually have a show on the Food Network."

Nick shook his head as the camera moved over to Ryan.

"Okay Ryan. Say something that we can look back on," Jacqui requested. The man shook his head quickly.

"I don't have anything-''

"Of course you do, lover!" Greg said, leaning in and giving his boyfriend a playful kiss on the cheek. "Right off the top of your head. If there's anything we have to teach you before the day's out, it's spontaneity."

Ryan looked to the camera before covering his face with his hand. He obviously had a shy streak that Greg was trying to break him of.

"Okay, fine. This is Ryan speaking. Whatever stupid thing you future generations decide to do, always make sure that you never, ever start dating a guy you met in the middle of Miami wearing a "I do my own stunts" t-shirt and wondering where the Miami-Dade crime lab is."

"That sounds an awful lot like how we met," Greg innocently observed.

Movie Jacqui and Nick laughed simultaneously. The camera's view began turning and found the picnic table again, Archie having dutifully taken up the task of laying out the plates and napkins.

"This is Archie Johnson," Jacqui introduced, the camera jiggling slightly as she crossed the yard to get to him. Archie looked up before smiling and waving.

"'Kay, Arch. We're leaving something for our future children and their friends to learn from. Say something deep and meaningful."

"Love means never having to say you're sorry."

"Oh, please! I know there's more up there in your oversized brain than that. Let's hear it."

Movie Archie took a thoughtful moment. "I, Archie Johnson, address the younger generation on this day, July fourth, two thousand and four. Focus your efforts on restoring the environment and creating as many quality Star Trek spin-offs as you can without ending the series badly. Gene Roddenberry left us a masterpiece, so don't screw it over."

"I can't believe your message is about Star Trek."

"What else were you expecting?"

Nick had to ask the same question. This was Archie, after all. Movie Jacqui sighed but seemed content with his message.

The television screen went dark for a moment, an indication that recording had ceased. For a second, Nick felt disappointment. Was it over already? Had David been there at that party? He must have been if he had the tape, right? A moment later, Nick relaxed. The picture had returned, Jacqui's back yard suddenly replaced by the inside of her kitchen.

"This is the last of our crew this year," Jacqui stated. Her camera focused on David and Nick's interest spiked as he watched. His boyfriend was taking a batch of fries out of her oven and putting another portion in. He didn't even bother to look towards the lens; he merely shook his head, refusing to take part in her sentimental home video. "David Hodges is our favorite cook. He's way better than Greg, anyway."

"Did Sanders burn the burgers?" David asked. "I thought I smelled something. I can't believe you let him near an open flame anyway."

"We're leaving a message for the future generation. Now that you're regularly scheduled Greg-bashing is over, care to participate?"

"I thought it was the fourth of July. When did future generations become a part of it?"

"We're using our day of independence to hand down wise advise from those who've been around the block. Now go ahead and say something helpful."

"No."

"Oh, come on. You know you want to."

"Fine. Don't have unprotected sex and never, under any circumstance, give Jacqui Franco a camcorder. She'll abuse her power to no end."

"Aw, that was sweet. Anything personal you'd like to add?"

"No."

"How about a little message for your unrequited love?"

"I wasn't aware I had one."

"Oh, please. Archie said he saw you talking with Ni-''

"Future generations, remember? We don't deal with our nonexistent love lives until Thanksgiving."

"So you're finally admitting you have a thing for Nicky?"

"I'm saying that Archie has way too much time on his hands if he's reporting who I happen to be talking to every minute of the night."

"Okay, Grumpy Guss," she replied, allowing the subject to drop. "Now do me."

"Why Jacq, I never knew you felt that way."

"Shut up, would you?" Jacqui asked, handing David the recorder. The scene went berserk for a few moments as the camera switched hands, bits and pieces of her kitchen and surrounding home revealing themselves as the angles twitched awkwardly. Finally, David got a hold of it and focused steadily on her.

Jacqui smiled at the camera before giving the viewers a big wave of her hand. "Hello future generations! This is you favorite lab technician speaking. What I've shown you is the secret lives of fabulously under-appreciated people like ourselves. My message to you is to never trust a guy who wears Sponge Bob boxers; in other words, guys like Greg. How do I know he wears Sponge Bob boxers? Don't ask. Just trust me on this one.

Remember to marry men like Bobby who can salvage foods that men like Greg destroy. Men like Archie are highly underrated, so remember to greet the next Trekkie you see with a smile. If you happen to be a psychiatrist and are watching this, offer people like Archie your card and urge them to find another fandom lest he drive the rest of his friends insane. Me? I'm totally bodacious. I'm the epitome of what every man wants, men just haven't realized it yet. When you see a beautiful woman like me, offer to buy her dinner at a fancy restaurant with a French name you can't pronounce.

Lastly, for those afflicted by the David Hodges Complex, I truly apologize. You're going to be sarcastic and somewhat bitter for the rest of your life, watching the man you've been smitten with the last two years pass you by yet again-''

"Okay, wrap it up," Movie David ordered. Jacqui gave him a cheeky grin.

"If Nick Stokes ever gets a hold of this video, know that David's been available for about half a decade now and-''

"Don't make me burn this tape."

"Fine. So this is Jacqui Frano, saying aideos! Remember that lab technicians are you friends!"

Another cut in the recording; David had obviously had enough of Jacqui's incessant rambling and shut the camera off. A moment passed and the recording began again, this time with everyone inside her living room. Nick observed, trying to deduce how much time had passed since Jacqui's declaration. Was that Bobby emerging from the kitchen, chomping down on fresh fries? That had to have meant they hadn't eaten yet. At the most, ten minutes had passed.

The camera was recording her front door, the laughter and voices filling the background. The door suddenly burst open and a young girl, possibly six or seven, bolted through. The camera focused on her as she zoomed through the living room to the kitchen, screeching "UNCLE DAVEY!" as she did so. A moment later, David emerged from the kitchen with the young girl latched onto him. He looked flustered but strangely happy as her arms wound around his neck, her mousy brown hair looking as if it hadn't seen a brush in years. Nick immediately recognized her as Bobby's young daughter.

"Hey, what about us?" Archie asked, feigning hurt. The girl laughed and Archie broke into a toothy grin. "Hi Uncle Archie! Hi Uncle Greggie!" She paused a moment, giving Ryan a curious look. "Are going to be a new uncle?"

Jacqui turned to tape Ryan who was looking considerably floored at the question. Greg quickly took hold of the situation, walking over to her and freeing David of his cargo. "I'm hoping he'll be, sweetheart. Now who's hungry? There's some freshly salvaged grub outside!"

David. Kids. Nick closed his eyes. It was a taboo subject between them; they never addressed it, but it was one of the few things that they had yet to seriously discuss.

The rest of the video was mainly of them at the picnic, exchanging funny bits of conversation, cracking nerdy jokes only they would find funny, and generally laughing it up for all it was worth. Nick tried to keep sight of David as much as possible, but David didn't seem to like being taped and was often out of view. Despite this, the video was indeed priceless. To get the inner workings of the technicians was rare; they were geeky with turban-wearing rituals Nick would never fully understand.

A blue screen popped up, signaling the end of the recording. Nick ejected it, his mind still reeling from what he had seen and quickly chose another one at random. Grandmother Annetka's Birthday, 1998.

The usual pause followed as Nick patiently waited for the tape to begin. A blue screen followed before a nice looking floor came into view.

"Uncle Borris," came a voice, "You've got to keep the camera up. That's the entire point, see?"

The bare floor was replaced by someone's shoes as the camera was adjusted. The person pointed the camera up and the screen was suddenly filled with people, balloons, and pre-21st century clothing. The house was large with green carpeting and a high ceiling. The furniture didn't match and there was a lot of junk cluttering up the place, but somehow, a huge family was making due with the limited space they had. Nick watched the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. Was this David's family? Uncle Borris focused on the chaotic scene in front of them. He was obviously standing in a corner somewhere, hoping to get some video of everyone rushing about, happily preparing for a party.

Uncle Borris, having gotten a few minutes of the rush recorded, began walking around. He passed a heavy set man sitting in front of what had to be an antique of a computer. What was that, an Apple 95? The man took a moment to wave and Borris passed him by. There were some more men clustered on the couches. They couldn't have been any older than 35 or 40 years of age. They took the moment to acknowledge the camera before going back to their conversations, obviously not the out-going types.

Borris progressed to the dining room where several women were animatedly preparing the table. Unlike their male counterparts, they were much more upbeat, laughing amongst themselves.

"Beatrice," said a voice Nick assumed was Uncle Borris, "Say something to your Nana. It's her birthday tape."

"Giving her something to look back on, are we?" the brunette woman asked. She had short hair and was wearing a colorful bell sleeved blouse and dark blue jeans. Sparkling earrings hung from her ears and her smile was bright and genuine. Beatrice was her name? She had to be the insane aunt who had called a month earlier. "All right then. Hey Nana! I hope you have a wonderful birthday and that you like our dinner."

"Yeah," agreed another voice, popping her blonde head over Beatrice's shoulder. This woman's hair was longer, falling to her elbows. She was wearing a blue shirt and skirt with a pair of glasses balancing delicately on her nose. "Hey Nana, it's Florence. We know you have a serious palette and there's no way we can fool you with KFC or something, so we're going all out! We love you!"

Nick was quickly trying to figure who was related to David and how. These two women were older; Florence seemed to be the same age as Beatrice and he assumed that she was another aunt. That would only make sense. Nick began making a mental list. Beatrice. Florence. Aunts. Got it.

Borris took the moment to observe the table. It was nicely decorated with a colorful polka dotted table cloth. Mismatched plates were neatly set with cutlery that looked as if the forks and knives had been randomly chosen from a thrift store drawer. The cups weren't any different; some were decorated mugs, some were plastic, some were glass. The table itself was large and long, taking up almost too much space in the dining room, forcing people to move around each other like sardines in a can.

Colorful banners and thin paper streamers hung from the arched ceilings. Balloons did the same; obviously, no one had bought any helium, so alternate decorative choices had to be made. There was a small white dog roaming around shyly; unlike most dogs, it didn't want to be petted or touched, it merely watched from a corner, not mingling with the humans.

Borris, having taped a sufficient amount of table, looked up again. A short woman with gray hair was beginning to bring dishes of what looked to be delectable foods to the table. A taller man with a dark mustache and beard was trying to find enough chairs to seat everyone. And through the doorway of the kitchen, Nick could see a familiar figure.

Nick mentally urged Borris to continue towards said kitchen, hoping to see the David from seven years ago, way before he had even moved to Las Vegas. Was David happier then? Or was he still as sharp and sarcastic? Had he been dating someone? Or had he been single?

Borris, as if obeying Nick's silent plea, moved towards the bustling cooking area. The camera peered in to see another man wearing a Key Largo t-shirt and flip-flops hovering over the stove, looking decidedly stressed. A woman with short platinum hair and glasses was fiddling in the pantry, looking for some elusive salt and pepper.

And then there was David, standing at the sink with his oxford sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scrubbing some mean looking pots and pans. These cooking utensils taunted Nick even from the screen, boasting impossible looking food residues that had latched onto the surfaces, refusing to let the wool mesh scourers and Dawn detergent do their job.

"Borris, you can't be in here! It's small enough as it is," said the bossy voice of the woman in the pantry. David and the man sweating at the stove turned at the voice and Nick saw David's eyes crease, grinning at the orders.

"Oh, c'mon Jocelyn. Watching the preparations is almost as interesting as the party itself," he argued.

"Out right this instant!" Jocelyn demanded, ignoring David's remark.

"C'mon, no," Nick protested as his boyfriend disappeared from the screen and the recording went black. He waited for it to begin once more and was spirited when the dining room appeared again. The initial preparations for the party seemed to have been completed with the food laying out and the family squeezing in, laughter and chatter filling the room. A woman with silver hair and a thin frame sat at the end of the table, watching everyone with a pleasant demeanor. She could only be Grandmother Annetka.

She looked up, catching sight of the camcorder and shook her head, insisting there was no need to make a tape, but Borris was clearly ignoring this wish and spoke.

"Okay, okay, let's all say something for Nana on her birthday, huh? Let's start with Forrest and go around."

A gruff but kind looking man glanced up at the sound of his name. There was a patient silence as Forrest looked around before sighing, resigning himself to the tortures of sincere words.

"If ya'll insist." Nick's eyebrows rose. Was that a country accent in a part-Russian family? He shook his head, beginning to understand David's diverse personality. "Nana, I just wanna wish you a nice birthday. I'm real glad we can all be together today."

They waited for him to continue speaking, but it was obvious his well wishes were short, sweet, and to the point. "Oh, well," sighed Jocelyn. "I suppose that's as deep a message as we're going to be able to get from you."

"Now, now. Let's not let it get ugly here," Borris instructed. "Jocelyn, anything you'd like to say?"

Jocelyn smiled into the camera from her seat at the table. "Only that I love you, Nana, and I hope we can have a party like this every year to celebrate!"

It went around the table, most giving similar responses. Quite frankly, David's family was quirkier than a drunken Greg. Or a sober Greg, for that matter. They each had their own distinct personality and despite the barbed comments, they were very much a part of each other's lives.

Borris finally found David, the last one to add his message before they could start eating. David looked as if he would truly prefer not to be taped, much less speak on film. He shook his head when everyone's eyes fell on him.

"Oh, come on Dave. You know you want to,"Beatrice said. "How about you and Marion say something together?"

It was only then that Nick noticed a young girl, possibly eight, sitting next to him. The girl from the first video had been Bobby's daughter, overjoyed at seeing her not-quite-official uncles. This young girl, however, was certainly related. David and she exchanged somber looks and both shook their heads simultaneously.

"Hey, why don't you sing that song you guys were making up in the kitchen?" the man in the Key Largo t-shirt suggested.

"I'd love to hear it," Grandmother Annetka confessed. The girl and David sighed. She was like him in every shape, way, and form. Not his daughter, but definitely another niece.

"If it'll get you off our backs, we'll do it this once," David conceded.

"Ready?" the girl asked. David nodded, genuinely not looking forward to what would happen next.

"Okay. One, two three." The two broke into song together, although the enthusiasm was lagging behind on both their parts. "We really love you, Nana. You're cooler than a banana. We hope your birthday is super grand.

We're sorry if this is corny, it's as nice as it can be, let's hope next year you'll hire a real band."

Despite the two short stanzas, it was evident that David and his niece were finished with the embarrassing number. Jocelyn had begun choking with laughter and those around them were almost in tears. David and Marion exchanged dark looks, but Nick didn't miss the smile David gave his niece and the way she lit up when he did so.

The rest of the tape continued on as they sat and ate before unwrapping gifts. It was chaos, but Nick had a feeling he could handle it if ever caught in the middle of such an event. He had a family back home that was large and loud.

Nick proceeded to watch the remainder of the videos, trying to soak in and understand David's past. David always claimed he could never dance (thus successfully avoiding Nick's repeated I-wanna-go-dancing schemes) but Jeanette's Wedding, 1991 was proving otherwise. Christmas at Uncle Walter's, 1987 was simply bizarre; seeing his boyfriend almost two decades ago was refreshing. David Hodges of 1987 was certainly different from 2005; he was brighter and more susceptive to laughter and jokes. Nick loved him either way, no matter how old or young he happened to be. His only question was what happened to make David less joyful as the years passed? Was it work? His divorce? Or the repetitive grind of everyday life?

Nick had been so immersed in Christmas at Uncle Walter's, 1987 that he didn't hear the key turn, the door open, or even someone step into the living room. He wasn't made aware of David's presence until someone dropped the grocery bags onto the floor. Nick jumped at the sound and quickly turned to see a somewhat angered lover glowering in the doorway. The Texan took a glance up at the clock. His eighty-one minutes were definitely over.

"I was hoping these could stay private," David finally said, walking over the television and switching it off, the images of baby Marion vanishing from sight. David ripped his eyes away from the screen to where Nick was sitting, bundled on the floor. Nick felt like a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

"They were with all the other movies."

"But they aren't yours, are they?" David asked, grabbing his bags and walking over to the kitchen. He wasn't upset, but he was close to it.

"So what, you're angry with me now?" Nick asked, scrambling up to follow the other man.

"No."

"Oh, c'mon," Nick scoffed, watching as David began putting up the groceries. "I can tell when you're upset."

"I'm upset with the question you're going to ask next."

"Oh? And what question might that be?"

"Whether or not I'll want a family one day," David replied, storing away the canned green beans with more force than was really necessary. "I think we've had this discussion twice before and I thought I had made myself clear."

"The only thing you made clear was that you didn't want to talk about it."

"Then let me clarify this: I don't want children. End of conversation."

"Don't be mad about this, Dave, and don't change the subject either. Are you lying about not wanting a family?"

"I have a family, Nick. I've got a million crazy nieces and too many aunts and uncles to keep up with."

"You know what I mean. Kids. Diapers and drool and screaming and 'Dad, Tommy pulled my hair and put worms on my pillow.'"

David rolled his eyes. "A couple of family videos and now you're trying to second guess my own decisions? Nick, they're just holiday movies. Kids are loud, messy, and expensive and just because I spend time with my nieces doesn't mean I want my own seven year old monster."

"When my mother heard I was moving in with you, the first thing she said was that two guys can't make kids. Surely that's crossed your mind, right?"

"Great. A lesson in anatomy from my in-laws. Can this discussion get any better?"

"I saw the way you were with your little niece, Dave."

"I was being nice."

"David, listen to me."

"I'm listening. I just don't care."

"You can be as nasty as you want about this, but in three or five or ten years, you're going to want a family."

"I've never liked kids, Nick. Why are we even talking about this?"

"Because we obviously can't have children of our own! You may think you love me now, but-''

"Would you listen to yourself?" David snapped, slamming down a newly purchased jar of peanut butter on the counter top. "Do you honestly think that I didn't consider all this when you moved in with me? If I didn't love you, do you think I'd let you spread germs all over the place? Or go shopping for soup and juice? Or be forced to watch every football game all the way up to the Super Bowl and then listen to you and Warrick gloat about which team won?"

They stared at each other for a moment. Nick was freezing now, his virus somehow becoming worse, but he didn't care. They had both made sacrifices to be together and David had obviously thought this through thoroughly.

David sighed, turning away from the Texan. "And I bought some ice-cream," he muttered, obviously hoping to drop the subject. "That disgusting honey stuff you like."

"Thank you," Nick replied, his voice holding a tone of surrender. "You didn't have to."

"The trip to the frozen aisle was a death defying feat of strength and strategy. Now go bundle back up on the couch. You look like you're freezing."

Nick silently walked back to his domain of used Kleenex and various medicines, curling up underneath the blanket on the couch. A few minutes later, David returned and quietly handed him a bowl of soup before turning to the television set. He switched it back on and started the tape again, refraining from obeying his natural tendency of joining his lover on the couch. Instead, he chose the recliner, hoping to stay as far away from Nick's germs as possible. (He loved Nick, just not his disease.)

They watched the endless antics of cousins and grandparents, the burning of bratwurst by several uncles, and the power of the gossipy aunts in silence. But Nick couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the little nieces and nephews that ran around, their war cries and bouts of laughter filling the room. Movie David seemed happier then, easily conspiring with his younger family members. The Now David watched the screen intently, remembering the party and sometimes even explaining the inside jokes to Nick when the video warranted it.

When it ended, the screen went blue again. Neither man moved. Nick looked up uncertainly, most of his soup eaten, what remained of it now cold.

"And you're sure…" he began, his voice trailing off but the question understood.

David looked up and Nick felt his skin prickle. He shouldn't have asked, but he wanted to make certain before he fell too deeply for David. He was already half way there.

"Am I sure I don't want a family? Nick, I have a family."

"Your crazy Uncle Stephen doesn't count."

"I wasn't talking about Stephen. I was talking about you."

Nick felt his heart nearly stop altogether.

FIN.