Title: The Sweetest Thing
By: quettaser
Rating: R
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairings: Nick/Greg
Summary: Done for the Happy Domestic challenge at ngchallenge. Greg needs to move if Nick's going to get up.

***

"You have to get up," whispered Nick in the artificially dark living room. The blackout curtains had been a smart investment.

Greg murphled into Nick's shoulder, keeping his eyes stubbornly shut.

"I can't get up until you get up," Nick insisted. They had been watching a movie, something obviously not too good, and had fallen asleep on the sofa. Somehow, throughout the course of the movie, they'd moved from sitting to lying down, Greg curled against Nick's side like always.

"Yes, you can," Greg said into his shoulder, still refusing to move.

"You're on top of me."

"Only partially."

Which was true, Greg's left arm and leg were stretched out across his body, but it was enough to make it impossible to get up. "I can't move without rolling you off the couch."

"Then I guess we'll have to stay here forever." Greg's hand flexed against his chest, holding him tight.

"I have work in an hour."

"Just tell them you're here keeping me warm and happy. They'll understand you can't make it." Greg pressed against him again and Nick couldn't help sighing into his touch. He was invitingly warm, soft and yielding against him, utterly relaxed. Nick let his hand rub up and down Greg's back, massaging skin through his thin t-shirt. He loved it when Greg was tired, the way he just went boneless and flopped somewhere, most of the time against Nick. He always reminded Nick of a cat, curling up or stretching out in whatever place was most comfortable.

"Somehow I doubt that, Greg."

"Ye of little faith."

"Why are you so tired anyways? You slept for like 10 hours."

"You, mister," said Greg, poking a finger into his side, "should be flattered."

"What?" His hand stopped moving on Greg's back, coming to rest along the inside curve of his shoulder blade.

"Well, considering we just had our quasi-monthly weekend of fucking, you should be flattered that your obvious virility has utterly exhausted me and rendered me incapable of complex movement." Greg's eyes were still shut, as if he were trying to convince Nick through that alone that he was inert mass and unable to move.

"How is it that your vocabulary gets larger the more tired you are?"

"Special that way."

"And we do not have sex weekends."

"Yes, we do," insisted Greg, finally opening his eyes, shifting so that he could look at Nick. "Every once in a while we conspire to have two days off together in a row, wherein we proceed to fuck so much, we irrevocably damage bed sheets."

"You're exaggerating."

"Ninety percent of the time we aren't even wearing pants."

"You're the one who keeps ripping them off."

"I just prefer you sans pants," said Greg, letting his free hand trail down Nick's chest and trace idle patterns on his stomach. "Makes it easier for me to blow you when such a desire comes over me. Which, by the way, I don't hear you complaining about."

Nick smiled. "I would never dream of complaining about you giving me head. That thing you do with your tongue…I don't want to know where you learned it, but I'm very glad you did. I'm also not an idiot and I would like it to happen again, many, many times." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "But a large amount of pantlessness doesn't make it a sex weekend."

"No, but the amount of time we spend fucking certainly does."

"But it's not like they're planned. The sex just happens."

Greg was silent, eyes facing down again, a light blush in his cheeks. It wasn't like Greg to blush about sex.

"You plan them?"

"Someone's got to buy the extra condoms and lube and make sure they don't interfere with any important sporting events." Greg's eyes were distant now, looking anywhere but Nick.

"You do all that?" he asked, watching the blush deepen just a little bit more.

"Of course. Nothing's going to keep me from fully enjoying my very much deserved weekend of fucking," said Greg, burying his head in Nick's shoulder again, shutting his eyes.

"That actually…might be the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Greg just smiled into his neck and Nick could feel the satisfaction rolling off him in waves. Nick resumed rubbing his back and Greg hummed low, almost a purr.

"I still have to go to work you know."

Greg let out a long sigh, a puff of breath against Nick's skin. "Fine."

"That means you have to move."

"Moving bad. Nick pretty." Greg tightened his grip again and Nick rolled his eyes and smiled. He let his eyes drift shut and laid his head back down, cradling Greg closer into the crook of his shoulder.

Well, he could wait another ten minutes.


Fin.

***