Title: We're Next
By: Read 300300
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: Pg-13
Response to: Telephone Challenge
Summary: Greg gets interesting ideas while drunk.
A/N: 702 words on what Las Vegas's Area Code (702) means and why it's important to Greg.

Nick helped Greg out of the car, stumbling just a little when all of the other man’s weight was put on him. For someone who was too thin to begin with, Greg certainly could be a lot of deadweight.

“Okay, buddy, just need to make it to the couch and then I’ll get you some Advil,” Nick wondered why he had even let Greg drink so much at the club; certainly, dragging home his nearly passed out lover wasn’t on his top ten list of things to do tonight. At this point, he was just glad they’d agreed on a designated driver before they got there, or else he might have been in the same position as the younger man.

“Mhmm…” Greg murmured, stumbling along after Nick and leaning on the proffered left shoulder. He groaned as Nick’s hand grabbed his side tightly so that they could walk without his falling.

They made it all the way to the front door like that before they ran into problems. In order to get the keys out of his pocket, Nick had to maneuver the other so that he was leaning against the wall; then he went to grab his key chain, and Greg slumped, his legs buckling underneath his own weight.

Nick swore.

Figuring that there was very little he could do about it until he had the door opened, he unlocked it and swung it inwards before leaning over to try and pull Greg up again. It was a bit of a struggle to get them both upright, if only because Greg didn’t seem to want to move from his position on the floor.

Shaking his head, Nick just picked him up in a fireman’s hold and walked in, using the heel of his right foot to close the door. Slowly, he made his way to the couch before none too gently depositing the body on it. With a sigh of relief, he rolled his shoulders a bit to stop the near ache in them and went to get the Advil and a glass of water.

He stopped abruptly on the return trip when he realized that Greg was speaking.

“Las Vegas is going to be the next place that the aliens attack,” came the slurred words. “It’s so obvious, too. The government practically handpicked us for it. I mean, come on, it’s a huge place and our area code is 702. We’ll be next, I tell you.”

“What?” Nick couldn’t help laughing a little at that; Greg sounded so excited.

“It’s three numbers!”

“Hate to burst your bubble, Greg, but all area codes are three numbers.” Idly, he wondered why he was even trying to refute the drunken statements, but Greg did look as though he were trying to retain consciousness long enough to say what he meant. Maybe if he played along, then the man would still be awake later.

“No, but it’s all got to do with the prime numbers! Three numbers, a seven, a zero, and a two. The two and the seven are prime numbers, and three’s a prime number too! And zero! Why did they have to put zero in there? It’s the infinite number! Any number is a factor of it when you multiply it by zero! Anything!” His words became a bit clearer as he got more exited, almost as if the need to voice his findings overrode the alcohol in his blood stream. “And then seven plus two plus zero is nine, and that’s three squared, which has a three and a two in it when you write it down and those are even more repetitions of primes… It all makes so much sense! Seven is the number of divinity, so we were chosen for the aliens!”

Nick just nodded, not even really listening to what he was being told. Swiftly, before Greg could continue or pass out, he popped the pills into the other man’s mouth and encouraged him to drink at least half the glass of water in the hopes that he would not have that bad of a hangover the next day.

Seconds later, Greg’s eyelids fluttered shut, and his deep breathing soon turned into light snores as he slept.