Gray kept his promise; Greg was thoroughly amused that he and Nick had only been home just coming up to four hours, and were in the deep recesses of exhausted, almost comatose sleep when the ringing of Nick’s cell woke the both of them. But Greg was also pleased by the boyish grin that stretched across Nick’s face as he spoke to his brother and assured him they were home safe. As Nick crawled back into bed, Greg wrapped himself around his partner and murmured, “He wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t take so long to call this time.”
Nick gave him a sweet kiss on his hairline. “Nope, he sure wasn’t. He’s threatened to call in a couple of days again.” The happiness in his voice was undisguisable.
They were wakened again an hour later by Sara ringing to see if they were back home. Nick handed that one off to Greg, and changed the message on their machine to a temporary one stating that yes, indeed, they were home safe, and they would call everyone soon, and to please let them get some sleep.
“Cells off,” he growled as Greg collapsed back in beside him.
“Cells off,” Greg agreed.
As Nick drifted off to sleep he heard Greg murmur, “Still, it’s nice to have so many people who care.” He felt himself smile, and Greg’s hold on him tighten, and that was the last thing either of them remembered for the next six hours of uninterrupted blissfully restful sleep.
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A week later, on the second day of the new year, they arrived home after a gruelling shift to find a package leaning against their door.
“Fed Ex came really early,” Nick mused as he looked once again at the sky that was still only beginning to lighten with the morning sun.
“Or really, really late,” Greg smiled wearily as he bent to pick it up. His smile widened as he recognised the writing. “Hey, it’s from Ginny!”
Nick peered over his shoulder as he unlocked their front door. “Okay, what’s she up to?”
“Well, hurry up and let us in, and we can find out.” Greg pushed him slightly and Nick fell against the door. Nick gave him an exasperated look, and swung it open to let him enter.
Greg’s shoes were kicked off, and he was sprawling on the sofa before Nick could even untangle the keys from the lock and shut the door. He stood back, dumbfounded at his partner’s speed. Greg grinned up at him, and patted the space next to him. “Care to join me?”
“I’m hot and sweaty, and I smell,” Nick complained. “I want a shower.”
“As do I,” Greg rolled his eyes. “Can you really wait that long to see what she’s sent us?”
Nick decided he couldn’t, shucked off his own shoes and fitted himself in besides Greg as he started unwrapping the flat, but still bulky, parcel.
“Brown paper,” he admired. “Very traditional.”
Impatient, Nick reached over and began to tear at the paper with him.
“Hey!” Greg protested. “You’re usually so careful, tearing off each strip of tape, carefully folding the paper away, ironing it for re-use…”
“I do not iron it,” Nick groaned. “I smooth the creases out. And I just want to see what it is.”
Greg slapped his hands away as he began to pull out the flat box contained within the paper. A note fluttered out and fell to the floor. Greg began to open the box as Nick leaned down to retrieve the note from the carpet.
“Oh, wow,” Greg breathed.
Nick bobbed back up, with a slight headrush from being upside down and righting himself too quickly. “What?”
Greg turned the frame in his hands around so that Nick could see, and he found his own breath caught as well.
It was one of the photos that Ginny had taken while they were all sprawled on the bed together, what now seemed like months ago. It was a candid shot of him and Greg, when Greg had held him down to ensure would be captured in a photograph. Greg’s arm was encircled around Nick’s waist, his hand against his belly. Nick’s teeth were exposed, and the very tip of his tongue was showing between them in a fit of genuine laughter, while Greg had been frozen with a more bemused expression as he stared down at the man in his arms. She had enlarged the photo, desaturated the colour so that it was in black and white, and slightly overexposed it so that it had an almost ethereal quality.
“It’s beautiful,” Nick finally said.
“It is,” Greg agreed, also finding it slightly difficult to speak.
“We look happy,” Nick said.
“We were,” Greg laughed, then realised that that sounded historical, so added, “We still are. Y’know, in case you were confused.”
“No confusion here.” Nick leaned in and kissed him, delighting in the warmth of his mouth and the firmness of the body pressed up against him.
“Nothing better,” Greg gave him that lazy smile he loved. “So, what does the note say?”
Remembering the paper in his hands, Nick opened it and began to read. “Howdy to my two favourite uncles. I know Jillian the Great always says we should never have favourites, but we’ll keep that as our little secret. Anyway, I was playing around with my new software, and I really liked this photo. So did JTG. She demanded a copy, and it is now hanging on the wall of shame, I mean, fame. I gave her a copy of her very own on the last day I was there, and every time she passed it she would touch it and get a little teary. So who doesn’t have favourites, huh? Should I send a copy to Laura and Mark? Just joking. Although, maybe I’m not… love, Ginny.”
“Imagine Laura’s face if she did,” Greg laughed.
“No, if we’re to send one to her and Mark it should be one of us making out,” Nick grimaced. He still wasn’t at the stage where he could begin to laugh rather than get upset. Greg wasn’t sure if Nick ever would, whereas he himself had to laugh or it would eat him away inside.
They lay in silence for a while, staring at the photo, and then punctuating that by staring at each other, drinking each other in.
“So, hall of shame, huh?” Greg asked.
“It’s an honour,” Nick said wistfully, thinking of his mother hanging the photo and stepping back to admire it. He felt grateful for the fact that he and Greg were finally on somebody else’s wall other than their own.
“Come on babe,” he stood up, and pulled Greg along with him. “Maybe it’s time to start our own hall of shame.”
“In our own little Vegas ranch?” Greg smiled. “I’ll get the hooks, you find the right place for it to start.”
He went to move away, but Nick pulled him back for another kiss. “Happy new year.”
“Happy new year,” Greg echoed, giving him another kiss, and disappearing into the kitchen. Nick smiled, and began to weigh up the best options for hanging their new gallery, to start with the photo whose twin was now hanging fifteen hundred miles away.
“It’s a good place,” Greg said, handing him a packet of adhesive hooks.
Nick knew he was talking about more than their intended gallery, he was talking about where they had been, what it had taken to get there, where they were right now, and where they would always be.
“Yeah,” he said happily. “It’s a damn good place.”
THE END.
A/N: Thanks so much everybody, for the constant reviews and demands to keep going. It was originally only going to be 10-15 chapters but it took on a life of it's own. It seems fitting that it got finished just before Christmas, and I hope you all have a very merry one. If you're interested, here's a little present, both the more melancholy Bing Crosby version of "Don't Fence Me In" which would have been similar to the one the Stokes sang around the campfire, and the rockier David Byrne version which Greg actually knew. Hope you enjoy them!
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