Take it Home

His mom used to love reading bedtime stories to him when Greg was young enough to let her get away with it, before he was eight and found his dad's chess set more interesting than her tales of happily ever after.

She would hold him in her lap, a kind of sad smile on her face that betrayed the strained excitement in her voice. And Greg could remember the enticing feeling of being warm with her arms wrapped around him. The moments when she would she pause during the story, gaze lingering on Greg until she decided to press their foreheads together; engaging him in an Eskimo kiss that would leave Greg giggling, distracting him from the silent tears that she'd wipe away when he wasn't looking.

Sometimes, Greg wondered if she believed in the stories as much as she liked reading them to him, relishing in the promise of a happy ending she would never have. But once upon a time, Greg was so immersed the kind of incredible magic, too. A kind of magic he still wasn't sure he'd quite given up. Because he could remember their shared laughter, their mirrored smiles whenever they would make up their own fairy tales. And Greg would be her prince charming, handsome and dashing as he saved her from the dragon that had taken away Greg's brothers and sisters.

Greg put the phone down carefully, wincing at the small noise of the headset being placed on the dresser. It was loud and almost deafening, the noise pervading the questionable silence. He stilled, trying not to make any more noise, not wanting to wake up the person sleeping beside him; limbs stretched out in a way that made Greg sit closer to the edge of the full-sized bed.

He sighed, leaning over to rest his head in between his knees, the soft crackling of the plastic that Nick had yet to take off the mattress signalling his slight movement.

A week had passed since Nick first asked him. And it was here on this same bed, Nick's bed, that Nick first said those four little words that were more distressing than as reassuring as they should have been. And Greg couldn't help but curl his toes the into soft carpet at the memory of Nick standing before him, gripping his hand tightly as if he threatened not to let Greg go.

"Moveinwithme."

"What?" Greg turned around sharply at the quick string of words, looking down at Nick questioningly as the other man positioned himself in front of him.

"Move in with me," Nick repeated, this time more slowly. His voice was pleading, almost desperate, instinctively making Greg want to push the other man away. Because the only thing preventing Greg from shaking his head was the look in Nick's eyes, the hesitant expression that wouldn't let him turn away.

"Nick...I can't-"

"Hear me out, okay?"

Greg knew the exasperation showed on his face but didn't say anything; letting Nick continue.

"I've been thinking - I've been thinking a lot, lately and I know this isn't the right time-"

"You're damn right this isn't the time to be pulling something like this with me, Nick," Greg interrupted, deciding not to let Nick finish. He put a palm against his forehead, Nick still holding his other hand. "You expect me to just...to just drop everything and move in with you because you're asking me to?" he said incredulously.

"No...I..." Nick lowered his head, rubbing his thumb on the back of Greg's hand before looking up again. "I wasn't talking about this." He paused, eyes moving around the room before settling back on Greg. "I meant moving. Just not here, but having a home, you know."

"Nick-"

"Just think about it. I know I'm asking..."

Greg turned his head away when Nick trailed off. His closed his eyes, mouth set in a thin line as they sat in silence, a tension between them that hadn't been there for a long time.

Nick sighed when he finally let go of Greg's hand, peering up at the other man. "I mean, you don't have to say anything now. But at least think about it. Okay?"

Nick hadn't brought it up again, and Greg still couldn't decide if he could face Nick with an answer. But he did know that it was selfish for Nick to put something like that on the table, something so...so drastic and maybe even more life-changing that being taken away by some stranger. And Greg was anxiously trying to wrap his mind around it. He still wasn't sure how to classify his relationship with Nick - if he even could - but it was anything other than perfect.

But Greg couldn't dismiss the nagging feeling that Nick only asked because Greg could have died. And the thought that it was probably more of an obligation on Nick's part did more than just linger in Greg's mind, one of those radical kinds of epiphanies that came with Nick finding Greg barely alive in some back alley.

And Greg could only remember what happened two and a half weeks later, finding himself moving from the hospital to Nick's apartment, a mash of blurred faces and disjointed sounds that didn't quite correlate. The memory of that was even fading; somewhere with the two weeks he spent with the bad guy who later got away. And aside from the medication, the nightmares he couldn't decipher, and the sheer hell of being bound by fears he couldn't explain, Greg was able to make himself believe he was doing better. Nearly a month later Greg was almost able to convince himself that things would be okay, that he could return to his apartment, to work, and eventually back to normal.

And even if that meant going back to whatever on-and-off relationship he had with Nick, it would be a constant, almost a kind of relief and a tolerable kind of familiarity he craved. But Greg didn't know why he was surprised when Nick couldn't even adhere to something so simple, couldn't for once give Greg what he wanted instead of a continuing a cycle that Greg knew wouldn't end anytime soon. And for Nick to ask so much of him, pull something so incredibly...

But by now, Greg was tired of trying to argue with himself about what was no longer a moot point. He already conceded to why he wanted to call Nick selfish, cling to a rationale that still would prevent him from saying no. Because if he were in any other situation, if Nick had only asked before everything fell apart, Greg would have said yes.

Greg leaned back on a pillow, putting the rest of his body beneath the comforter as he gently pushed Nick's arm and leg away, trying to make room for himself on the bed. He took a deep breath, the sound smothered and lost somewhere among Nick's snoring as he the image of Nick in shining armour came to mind. Laughter escaped him, a hysterical tint in his voice as he covered his mouth when his mental depiction of Nick smiled at him. But the laughter began to dwindle, turn soft and the picture of Nick as a white knight began to fade. Childhood fantasy contorted into reality when Greg noticed that Nick's armour was tarnished and dulled, falling apart as Nick's smile became strained and almost painful to watch as Greg cleared the image from his mind.

And maybe that's why he had the urge to call him mom so late at night, speaking softly and whispering into the phone's receiver as Nick continued to sleep in the background. He been speaking to her more lately, going back and forth with the poorly concealed panic in her voice that hadn't wavered even when he called to tell her he was finally out of the hospital. But it was understandable, and Greg didn't fault her for it because he was her son, her only child, and he could still hear the choked sound coming from other end of the phone when he told her about his own blemished fairy tale: from the day he first met Nick to the day Nick asked to share a home with him.

Afterwards, there was a quiet between them that cast a shadow on those moments he spent with her, everything that came before he mentioned his relationship with Nick, something even he still didn't feel too confident about. And it made Greg wonder if he'd make a mistake by telling her, question if he should have simply waited instead of partaking in the same thing he accused Nick of doing. He'd never really confided in her about his relationships - the more than casual ones having been few far and in between - but even so they had been with females and never anything serious; never mind with another male.

But then she started to laugh. Softly at first, a sound that still had Greg on edge even though the lightness of it suggested otherwise. However, it soon became strangled, repressed by the mangled noises that told Greg she was crying. And for a moment Greg was taken back to those days so long ago, when he would wrap his small arms around her neck after defeating the scary dragon whose smoke and fire had threatened to take away his mom like it had Greg's siblings. Her soft cries tore at him, replacing whatever feelings of uncertainty and doubt he had before. Greg felt a shame wash over him when he realised he it was too late to take his words back and came to terms with the fact that he no longer had the power do anything to make it better.

"Are you happy?" she asked, and Greg could imagine that same, sad smile on her face; vaguely wondering how his mom felt when she found out she wouldn't be able to have any more children.

Greg answered tentatively, fingers tightening around the phone. "Mom?"

"Are you happy?" she said again, strain in her voice as Greg tried to ignore the disappointment he could hear as well.

"I..."

She was sniffling on the end, no longer crying as she made a muffled sound. "Do you still believe in those silly stories, Greg, the ones that used to be real?"

"I will if you still do," he said softly.

There was a pause before she decided to speak again, her voice a whisper Greg struggled to hear. "I love you, Greg."

"I-"

Click.

"I love you, too."