Title: Home, Sweet Home
Author: Maribou
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: The boys are tired.

***

Nick sat on the edge of the bed, a lone sock dangling from one hand while he stared blankly at the air in front of his face. He let the sock slip from his fingers, lay back on the bed and groaned. He groaned because he was tired from working a triple shift and because it felt good to lie down, and because the comforter was softer than he remembered. He turned his head and rubbed his cheek against the cool, smooth cotton.

He heard the door click shut and then another, more mysterious sound. Nick opened one eye to see Greg, clad only in flannel pajama pants, placing a tray on the dresser.

"I made us a snack," he explained. He spoke slowly and quietly, for he was just as exhausted. Gentle hands slid between Nick and the bed, pressing him upwards.

"Mmrmph," Nick protested, but sat up and wrapped his arms around Greg for support. He rested his head against Greg's stomach, which was infinitely softer and warmer than the comforter had been. He pressed a lazy kiss there, covering a freckle, and then another and another.

"You're welcome," Greg grinned. "And I love you too."

Nick lifted his head and fixed Greg with a slow, adoring smile, the one Greg thought of as Nick's little boy smile, the one that crinkled Nick's eyes and squeezed Greg's heart. There was no sardonic eyebrow raise or smirk or hint of amused exasperation that so often appeared there, and no flash of lust, either - just an expression of total love.

Greg stroked the sides of Nick's face and then undressed him, button by button, pulling off pants and finally the one remaining sock. He got Nick on his feet, and pointed him towards the shower.

"Aren't you coming with me?" Nick asked.

"Took one at work," Greg said, and gave him a little push.

When Nick returned, clean and in a fresh, white t-shirt, he found Greg turning down the sheets in the now dim room.

"Bed," Greg patted the pillows. "Immediately." Nick was happy to obey, and propped himself up against the headboard. He took the plate of cinnamon toast that Greg placed in front of him, and then a tall glass of something bubbly. He took a sip - ginger ale.

"My favorite," Nick marveled sleepily. "I love you."

"It's diet," Greg said, as he slipped under the sheets and helped himself to a triangle of toast.

"G," Nick began, setting down his glass and pulling Greg into his arms. "How did I get so lucky?" Nick kissed him again, a shower of little kisses along his neck and jaw, and then a long, tender kiss, a proper kiss. Nick paused to brush a crumb from Greg's mouth and continued, soft, gentle, until Greg was breathless and wrapped around him.

They fumbled with the lights, and the empty plate and glasses found their way to the bedside table. They pulled each other close, chest to back. Nick nuzzled Greg's shoulder and breathed in the clean scent of Greg's hair, silky and still damp.

"I'm so tired, baby," Greg said as he felt Nick's hands drift lower and tug at his pajamas.

"I know," Nick whispered as he pulled off his shirt and tossed their clothes over the edge of the bed. "I just want you close to me," he explained. Greg turned in his arms and snuggled in, pulling the covers up around them both.

"Closer," Nick said, and tightened his arms around Greg. "Closer," he urged, until their legs were tangled and Greg rested just so on his chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the fan and the soothing rhythm of Greg's breathing. The pillows were soft and perfect, the sheets cool and Greg warm. He'd never felt safer, or more at home.

***