Title: Not Just Another Dream
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ryan Wolfe
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: Miami
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Ryan Wolfe, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Ryan looked over at Greg with a smile behind the counter where they were working, feeling that something wasn't quite right about where they were and what they were doing. Everything felt dreamlike, strange, as if they didn't really belong here.

But this was where they were supposed to be, wasn't it? This was what they did for a living. They worked in this ice cream parlor; it was where they had met, where they had fallen in love, and where they would probably be for a long time to come.

He shivered and moved his hands up his bare arms; he didn't particularly like not wearing a shirt in here, but it was one of the rules of the job. They were paid to look good, and to serve the customers who lined the counter. Well, at least serve them with sodas and ice cream.

If they'd had to serve in any other way, they wouldn't be working here any more, he told himself with a smile. Nobody was going to lay a finger on his Greg; and he was sure that Greg felt the same way about him. The customers could look, but they couldn't touch!

He rather liked looking, himself, Ryan thought as he let his gaze roam over Greg's half-nude body. His boyfriend looked adorable in that little paper hat, and the tight white pants that they both wore as their regulation "uniform." He didn't just look good. He looked amazing.

And he was the one who Greg would be going home with tonight, he thought with satisfaction as he caught sight of a couple of women ogling Greg as they got up from the counter and headed for the door. He was the one who'd be making love to this man.

He would slowly strip those tight pants off his boyfriend's body, then lay Greg down on their bed, run his hands over that soft skin, then his lips; he would spread Greg's legs, position himself, and thrust inside that welcoming heat ....

Ryan blinked, realizing that someone had spoken to him. He shook his head, smiled at them, and rushed to get their order when they repeated it. This still somehow felt like a dream, something that wasn't quite real, as though he was watching it on tv and not living it.

This was his life -- wasn't it? He worked here with Greg, went home with Greg, lived with the man he loved. They were far away from anything that could hurt them; he really had no past before he'd met the man of his dreams, nothing significant that could come back to haunt him.

There was only the ice cream shop, and his life with his boyfriend. It might not sound like much to some people, but it was comforting and familiar to him -- at least, he thought it was. There was still an air of unreality about it all, a piece that didn't quite fit.

He knew that they weren't supposed to help themselves to the ice cream, but he couldn't resist doing so. They always bought ice cream once a week at the end of their shifts, taking it home and feeding it to each other in bed. It made for sweet dreams, or so Greg claimed.

At the moment, he was having a hard time deciding which flavor was the most tempting. Creme brulee? Vanilla carmael? Double fudge? He and Greg had sampled them all, and they had their favorites. But he couldn't seem to make up his mind now.

Somehow, he could hear a voice calling to him that wasn't there in the shop. Ryan looked around with a frown, wondering if there was someone outside who couldn't get the door open. Maybe it was stuck; he should go and open it for them .....

"Ry! Wake up! You're dreaming!" Ryan's eyes snapped open at those words; Greg was bending over him, and he was lying in bed, the light on the beside table shining into his eyes. He squinted, raising a hand to his face to block out the brightness.

Greg sat back with a sigh, staring down at him with a worried frown on his face. Ryan sat up slowly, the remnants of his dream still with him. The two of them had been in an ice cream parlor, and Greg had looked so adorable that he had to smile at the memory.

"What was up with that dream?" Greg asked him, tilting his head to the side and observing him, still looking worried. "You were moaning like you were either in pain, or having the best sex of your life. And if you were having sex, it better have been with me!"

"I wasn't having sex, but I was thinking about it!" Ryan told him with a laugh. "We were working in an ice cream shop. I think we were -- what's that old-fashioned term for it? -- soda jerks. Shirtless soda jerks. And you were looking hotter than hell."

"Yeah?" Greg said with a soft laugh, sounding relieved. "I was worried that you might be moaning because you were dreaming about .... him." He hesitated before he said the last word, obviously not wanting to bring up bad memories for either of them.

But Ryan shook his head firmly, throwing back the covers and swinging his long legs out of bed. "Come on. After that dream, I want ice cream. I don't know about you, but I could use something sweet right now. Ice cream would really hit the spot."

Greg got up and followed Ryan to the door of their bedroom, neither of them bothering to get dressed. After all, it was their home, and the shades were all pulled down. "And when we come back to bed, maybe I'll be inspired to give you something sweet. That is, if you want it."

"If I want it?" Ryan turned around to slide his arms around Greg's waist as they walked into the kitchen, pressing his lips against the hollow at the base of the other man's throat. "Since when do I not want you, hmmm? Of course I'll want it. Over and over again."

"That's comforting to know," Greg told him, going to the freezer and opening it. "What kind do you want? We've got butter pecan, cookies and cream, peach cobbler, french vanilla ...." His voice trailed off. "Why did we get all this ice cream, anyway?"

"We got it because we like it, as I recall!" Ryan told him, laughing. He took the butter pecan ice cream out of the freezer, moving to the kitchen cabinets to get a bowl. "After that dream, I really want some of this. Funny how a dream can unleash a craving."

"If that's so, then you should have a craving for me more often," Greg commented, taking out the cookies and cream and going back to sit down at the kitchen table. "That was a weird dream. Can you tell me more about it, or is it already gone?"

"That wasn't just another dream," Ryan told him as he sat down and handed Greg a bowl. He opened the container of ice cream, starting to scoop it out. "I don't think so, anyway. I hope that it was some kind of subconscious thing telling me that the future is going to be better."

"We hve each other," Greg said softly, a slight frown between his brows as Ryan spoke. "How could our future be any better? Is there something you're not telling me, Ry? Something that's making you unhappy with me?" He sounded breathless, stressed.

Ryan shook his head, reaching to take Greg's hand in his own. "No, baby, there's not. I was talking about what we're dealing with now, the .... threat." He didn't want to say more than that; if he did, he knew that he would start their thoughts down a path he didn't want them to be on.

Not now. Not today. He wanted this time to be for them alone, a time when they could relax and unwind, when they could forget about the danger that they faced from this man who had followed him here from Miami. He wanted to push that away, at least for the time being.

Greg nodded, accepting Ryan's words and relaxing back in his chair. "If that's not just another dream, then I wonder what mine are going to be like once this is all over?" he mused aloud. "I'm betting I'll dream about us being Prada models, or something crazy like that."

"What's so crazy about it?" Ryan protested, handing his boyfriend the ice cream scoop. "You're gorgeous enough to be a model. I know you might not think so, but you don't see yourself like other people do, babe. You don't realize how hot you are."

"I don't think that's the kind of dream I could get into," Greg said, ducking his head. Ryan had to smile at the look on his face; his boyfriend was actually blushing! Maybe he should change the subject, to be sure that Greg wasn't uncomfortable.

"Shirtless soda jerks." Ryan couldn't help but laugh as he remembered his dream, the absurdity of it. "And I was ogling you in that cute little hat and those tight white pants. I couldn't stop looking and thinking about how I wanted to throw you over the counter and --"

"I get the picture!" Greg told him, laughing along with his lover. "Maybe you should tell me more about this dream. I'm starting to like it better the more you talk about it. I wonder why we were shirtless? I think that's your overactive libido talking."

Ryan laughed at Greg's words, smiling at his boyfriend across the table. The threat that had been hanging over them for what felt like a lifetime seemed very far away now; he wished that things could stay this way, and that all of the dreams he had from now on would be good ones.

***