Title: Thrift Store Ficlet
By: geekwriter
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: Imyourally and Sarkenobi asked for a thrift store fic, and it took me a year to get around to writing it.

"You coming?" Greg asked, looking over his shoulder at Nick, who was standing motionless on the sidewalk. "You coming in or what?"

Nick shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I just..."

Greg ducked his head down to hide his grin, then walked the few steps back to where Nick was standing. "What's up? You've been dragging your feet ever since I said I wanted to stop here."

Nick shrugged and looked around somewhat nervously. "I just...these places always smell weird."

Greg laughed and wrinkled his nose a few times; it was what he did when he wanted to kiss but couldn't since they were in public. "You work decomps and you think thrift stores smell bad?"

"No bad, exactly," Nick said. "Just...weird."

Greg rolled his eyes and grabbed Nick by the wrist, dragging him into the store. "Oooh, look!" He headed over to the dinnerware section. "My grandma had glasses just like these when I was a kid."

Nick looked at the set of six avocado green glasses that Greg seemed so enraptured with. They were goblet shaped and had a repeating diamond pattern running down them.

"They always made me think of Q-Bert," Greg said as he snatched up a shopping basket and began placing the glasses into it. "Don't they make you think of Q-Bert?"

Nick shook his head slowly. He had no idea who Q-Bert was. "I think that was after my time."

"Oh, man," Greg said. "It was totally the best arcade game ever. Way better than Donkey Kong or Ms. Pac-Man, even." He began to tell Nick about some orange creature with no arms that could shoot rockets out of its nose. Personally, Nick didn't think any game could be better than Donkey Kong, but he kept that opinion to himself. Greg was still chattering on as he strolled up the aisle and Nick hurried to catch up with him, just in time to hear about some villains named Slick and Sam. Sometimes he wondered how Greg had so much room in his head for useless trivia.

Greg started sorting through a rack of t-shirts and Nick stood back a bit. He never really wanted to touch anything in thrift stores--he always came away feeling a little dirty.

"Sweet!" Greg cried, holding up a thin gray t-shirt that had Piggly Wiggly written across the front in faded red letters. "Can you believe people just give this stuff away?"

"Hard to imagine," Nick said.

Greg set his shopping basket down and dropped the shirt into it, then began pawing through more items, quickly disregarding most of them. He stopped, suddenly, and took a deep breath. "Fuck," he whispered. "It can't be."

It just looked like a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt to Nick, but the way Greg handled it as he checked the tag let him know that Greg thought it was more than just a shirt.

"This is an original," Greg whispered as if he was in a church. "From their '77 tour." He looked around, then quickly folded the shirt and tucked it beneath the one from Piggly Wiggly as if it were a treasure that someone would steal from him if they saw it.

Nick walked along with his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to be enthusiastic as Greg went through all the clothes--picking out a pair of vintage jeans and a belt with a buckle that doubled as a bottle opener. He stood to the side and feigned interest as Greg flipped through the records. He was thankful that Greg didn't stop to look at any of the shoes--the idea of wearing somebody else's shoes creeped him out even more than wearing somebody else's clothes.

They were nearing the checkout when Nick stopped cold. His breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, shook his head. He was being childish. He thought he'd caught himself in time but Greg was looking at him funny.

"What is it?" Greg asked, looking towards where Nick had been looking.

"Nothing," Nick told him. "Don't worry about it."

"You saw something," Greg said, pointing at Nick's chest. "You saw something you wanted."

"No I didn't." He knew it sounded like a lie even as he said the words.

"You did. You saw something. What did you....?" Greg grinned and strode over to the shelf, picking up the remote controlled 1969 Dodge Charger. He held it up and quirked one eyebrow.

Nick nodded. He felt ridiculous. It also felt good that Greg knew him so well.

Greg smiled and placed the toy car into his shopping basket.

"I don't...I mean, there's no reason for me to--"

"Nick, every boy in the world deserves his own General Lee."

"I'm not a kid. It's a toy and I really don't--"

"Shut up," Greg snapped.

Nick frowned. "What?"

"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to your father's voice coming out of your mouth. It's the General Lee, Nick. It's the coolest car ever. Why shouldn't you get it? And don't give me any bullshit about how you're not a kid anymore. Fuck. Your dad gave you that, 'time to put away childish things,' speech, didn't he?"

Nick shrugged. He didn't have to say it because Greg already knew.

"Screw your dad. You're 35 years old and if you want the General Lee you can damn well buy the General Lee."

Greg looked so angry, so serious, that Nick couldn't help but grin. "OK," he said. "I'll buy the General Lee."

Greg grinned back and wrinkled his nose a few times. "Good, because we are totally playing the Dukes of Hazzard when we get home."