Title: What Most Couples Do
By: kennedy
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Note: Beta'd by the irrepressible Catlover2x.
Summary: Greg receives a not-so-rude awakening. Written for the 25fluffyfics LJ community, prompt #7 "breakfast".

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He had barely been asleep for two hours when a gentle hand rested upon his bare shoulder and shook him awake. Greg Sanders groaned unhappily, and barked out a response that would have made his grandmother slap him had she been in the room. Although, if his grandmother had been in the room someone waking him up would have been the least of his problems.

"Come on, G," a familiar drawl filtered through his sluggish senses. "Oh, and don't be mad."

Don't be mad? Greg tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He was... too... fucking... tired, and this was not what he deserved. "What is it, Stokes?"

Ooh, surname. He's pissed. Nick Stokes decided he would have to go for the big guns. He lowered the mug of coffee so that its fumes would waft towards Greg's nostrils. They twitched appreciatively, as he knew they would, and Greg slowly came to life.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even as he groped for the mug.

"Sit up first, or you'll spill it," Nick instructed, reaching behind him to prop up a pillow for back support.

"Yes, Dad," Greg snarked.

"Please don't ever call me that again." Nick handed Greg his coffee once he was seated upright.

Greg took a large gulp, and watched Nick disappear through the doorway of their bedroom. "Hey, where are you going?"

"Be patient!" was his partner's reply.

Greg snorted. Who did Nick think he was talking to? Patience was definitely not one of Greg Sanders' virtues. The man should have figured that out long ago.

The clinking of cutlery and plates heralded Nick's return before he was even in sight. He was carrying a breakfast tray on which two plates heaped with steaming slices of French toast and bacon sat alongside the pleasing form of the Mrs Buttersworth container. Not that it contained Mrs Buttersworth, as Greg believed any self-respecting chemist would refuse to put that swill in their body when real maple syrup could be had instead. But he liked the actual packaging for the nostalgia it gave him.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Have you been to bed at all?" Nick was wearing his "˜cooler weather' sleepware, which consisted of long cotton pajama bottoms and his favourite ratty A+M top, which Greg often liked to steal for himself when he felt a compulsion to be even closer to Nick than usual; but his side of the bed was cold and unrumpled, indicating he had never come to bed after Greg crashed before him.

"Nah," Nick handed him the tray and slid into bed beside him until their legs were touching, and Greg immediately leaned in to him. "I just thought it would be nice to have breakfast."

"I'm not complaining-"

Nick gave a small laugh as he took a plate and liberally covered the contents in syrup, waiting for the "˜but'.

"Shut up," Greg said immediately. "It's just that we only got home two hours ago, and I was probably about to enter the second sleep cycle."

"It's a Sunday morning, G," Nick said, biting into a piece of bacon, as if this explained everything.

"And?" Greg passed him the coffee that he had left for himself on Greg's bedside table, and Nick took it gratefully to set upon his own nightstand.

"Most couples wake up lazily on a Sunday morning, prepare breakfast and eat it together. I've heard they even share the paper and read out things to one another. Strange, huh?"

Greg smiled. "Most couples probably don't work in a crime lab. We've had to pull a lot of Saturday nights recently."

"I just wanted us to have a normal Sunday morning."

"And I love it," Greg assured him, stifling a yawn. "Just expect to get kicked a lot in your sleep as punishment."

"Punishment?" Nick asked. "I'm going to get punished for cooking you breakfast?"

"Well, for denying me sleep more than anything."

"Jackass."

Greg dipped his head in quickly to whack it against Nick's cheek lovingly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"But where's this paper we're meant to read to each other?"

"Pushing it, Greg," Nick growled, but hid his smile.

Their conversation died away as they continued eating in comfortable and natural silence, which Greg couldn't resist interrupting by making happy smacking noises. Nick's French toast was perfect, as it always was. His trick was to dip the bread into the egg and then into the hot oil so quickly that the liquid never had time to soak through and make the bread soggy in the middle. It was crispy and well-fried from first to last bite. With Greg's, you often had to eat the centre first so you could save the edges for last and end it on a good mouthful. To think about it, Nick also made the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever as well. Greg found it ironic that the man so often concerned about ensuring they tried to maintain a healthy diet often made the best fatty foods; he turned to inform Nick of this sudden thought when he realized Nick had fallen asleep over his plate, which was dangerously ready to ski down his chest and spill over their comforter. Greg grabbed it in time, and was debating whether to wake him or not when he decided to leave him in peace and let him sleep.

Waste not, want not was his second decision, as he tipped the remains of Nick's breakfast onto his own plate and chewed away contentedly at his now super-sized meal.

His belly full, and the siren call of sleep pulling at him, Greg carefully piled their plates on his bedside table, and pulled Nick down into a more comfortable position. When they would wake hours into the afternoon, Greg would make it up to Nick by making him his favourite dinner. Or to prove that he really loved him, ordering in his favourite dinner so Nick would actually be able to enjoy it. He felt Nick's arms unconsciously reach for him while he still slept; Greg huddled in closer and let sleep claim him.

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