Title: Nebulaphobia
By: flipflopadd1ct
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Who's afraid of fog?
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own them.
A/N: An experiment in not-so-smutty smut. If that makes sense.
A/N 2: Special thanks to IMDb and The Phobia List.

***

Nick padded into his bedroom where he found Greg fully clothed, laying on his stomach, and face-down in the pillows.

Nick sat down on the corner of the bed and started pulling on his shoes.

"There's been a quadruple homicide," he said.

"So?" Greg replied.

"They need us. Grissom wants all the help they can get."

"I'm not going out there."

Nick continued rattling off the details, ignoring Greg's protest. "Forecast calls for rain and they want all the evidence collected before the storm hits. And there's a lot too-"

"I am not going out there," Greg repeated.

Nick sighed. "And why's that?"

Greg lifted his head from the sheets and looked at Nick. "You won't believe me," he quipped, and he promptly turned away again.

"Try me."

"Well, I have..."

"Yes?"

"Nebulaphobia," Greg said with finesse.

As if that settled the matter.

"What does that mean?" Nick was edging towards exasperated.

Greg exhaled loudly, as if his next action was the world's biggest chore, and walked towards the window. The curtains were closed "“ Nick could have sworn they had been open when he went to take his shower "“ and Greg slowly, cautiously drew them back.

Revealed to Nick was a dense, gray fogbank settled over the city. It was so thick that Nick could barely make out the fuzzy glow of the streetlamp in the distance.

Greg visibly shuddered and shut the drapes as fast as he had opened them.

There was silence for a couple seconds. Then Nick finally spoke, each word laden with skepticism.

"You're afraid of fog."

Greg nodded. "I'm afraid of fog."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Nick replied, shaking his head and chuckling.

Then he noticed that Greg's hands were shaking, and Nick could tell Greg was sweating.

"You're not kidding?"

"It scares the hell out of me." Greg shrugged.

Nick's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Just a minute," he said, and he peeked into the kitchen. Sure enough: the curtains on the window there were shut too.

He returned scratching his head. "Why are you afraid of fog?"

Greg echoed his earlier statement. "You'll laugh at me!"

"It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it is. It's a really stupid reason." Greg broke into a sheepish grin.

Nick patted the spot on the bed next to him. "Tell me." When Greg sat down, Nick reached out and placed his hands on Greg's shoulders. He started massaging Greg's tense muscles as Greg spoke.

"I was little. Like six. And I saw this movie...about fog. And it scared me."

"What movie?"

"...The Fog."

Nick paused his massage. "Dude, that movie sucked."

"Don't stop," Greg snapped. He only continued his story when Nick started moving his hands again. "But it fucking scared me, Nick. We were watching it on a foggy night, too, and I had nightmares. Really bad nightmares. I've never been able to go out in fog ever since."

"Wow," was all Nick could say.

"So yes. I am afraid of fog. Weird how things like that happen, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. I was scared of the dark "˜til I was nineteen," Nick admitted. He had never told anyone that before.

"How come?"

"You know why."

"Ah," Greg nodded. They didn't need to discuss that any further.

Greg closed his eyes and let Nick's talented hands work out the tension in his back. He laughed inwardly. Who's afraid of fog?

"So. Is there any way I can convince you to go into work with me?" As Nick spoke, his hands began to trail down to Greg's sides.

Greg pressed his back comfortably against Nick's chest. "Depends on what you have in mind."

"I've got some ideas," Nick muttered, his breath hot against Greg's neck. Greg sighed and leaned into Nick's shoulder, exposing his throat to Nick until he felt the wet, warm slide of tongue on his skin.

Nick's hands had moved from sliding up and down Greg's ribs to slipping under his shirt to play across his stomach, and now they were teasing the button on Greg's jeans. One soft palm slipped inside once they were open and into Greg's boxers to grasp his growing erection.

"How's this for incentive?" Nick growled.

Greg groaned and arched his spine. "It's working."

Nick drew Greg's cock from the slit in his boxers and stroked him with long, lazy pulls. Nick's fist was loose, letting Greg feel each finger as it dragged across his skin, running over the raised veins and caressing the cut head. Nick was determined to bring Greg off slowly and, for once, it was working.

And each time Greg thrust his hips forward, he felt Nick's cock rubbing against his clothed ass. Nick was as hard as he was, but confined in his jeans, and when Greg reached around for Nick's cock Nick slapped his hand away. So Greg resigned to his position, sitting in between Nick's spread legs, making small, needy noises as Nick mouthed the lines of his neck.

Gradually, Nick's grasp grew firmer, closing tighter around Greg's cock. What were once careful, measured strokes became faster, messier pumps. Nick was pushing his hips forward, making his erection achieve even more contact with Greg's back in time with his hand. Greg's whole world narrowed down to the hands on his cock and the heat at his lower back and before he knew it he had gasped, "Oh, Nick," and came over Nick's fingers and the sheets. At the same time, he heard Nick moan and felt warmth spreading across his back between three layers of fabric.

Nick kissed Greg on the back of the neck before scooting backwards and getting off the bed. He shucked his jeans and boxers, throwing them into the laundry hamper and smirked at Greg, who had fallen backwards onto the sheets. His jeans were still open, a satisfied smile on his face.

"I think we had a deal," Nick said as he pulled on a clean pair of khakis.

Greg mumbled a few colorful words and finally lifted himself off the bed. He rummaged for another pair of pants and by the time he was ready Nick was waiting by the door.

And Greg made sure to take his time.

"Aren't we late already? I mean, come on, Nick, it's been, like, half an hour since Grissom called. I'm sure they don't need us by now-"

"Greg!"

"Coming..."

~

Fortunately for Greg, the sun rose and the fog dissipated soon after they left Nick's apartment. After shift, Greg arrived home to find that Nick had not yet arrived.

Soon he heard the key turn in the lock.

"Today could have been very traumatic, you know," Greg said, arms crossed as he worked his best pout.

Nick shrugged and grinned. He stepped over the threshold and dropped his bag, but Greg noticed that his other hand was kept behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" Greg asked with suspicion.

"It's nothing," Nick winked. "Just something to help you get over your...phobia."

"You didn't..."

"I did."

Nick pulled out the DVD case with a flourish. "Maybe if you just watch it again, you can get over it. Really, Greg. Who's afraid of fog?"

"I hate you."

"You're going to hate me even more." And clearly, Nick was enjoying every minute of it.

"Tell me why," Greg sighed hopelessly.

"I bought the remake, too."

***