I wish you would write a fic where nick and greg are in a targets of obsession scenario i.e. trapped somewhere with a bomb (with or without an expert idk) and they're trying to keep each other calm while secretly freaking out. Probably with the inevitable whump and the rescue (sorry didn't see the post last night so hope this is still okay to send)
(absolutely okay to send a;sldkjfas;d I love doing these!! For Angsty reasons this is gonna be set in like...season 14--during my headcanon’d “break-up” phase for them. yet another fic i might expand on another day...)
“Kip would know what to do…” Nick muttered, more to himself, than to his partner. He wished he would wipe the sweat off of his face as he squinted down at the timer at his feet. His eyes were nearly glued shut, the digital numbers were blurry sticks.
“Kip?” Greg asked in a half-disgusted tone.
“Yeah, he helped me, Cath and Vartaan get out of that warehouse a few years back. Quick thinker, good humor...curly hair, cute smile..”
Greg heaved a loud sigh, louder than it needed to be, as he leaned back against the chair he was currently tied into. He felt the back of his head impact against Nick’s, and quickly moved his head away.
“Ah, another ex.”
“He wasn’t--that’s not--He’s not an ex! I barely knew the guy!”
“Then why do you wish he was here?”
“Because he can diffuse bombs, Greg!”
“You just had to say the ‘b’ word, didn’t you?”
“Hey--it could be worse.”
“Oh, well, sorry, guess I’m not used to sitting on a death trap for hours, waiting to explode.”
It’s not exactly something you get used to. Nick thought darkly to himself, though this time, he remained outwardly silent.
Riling up Greg wasn’t going to do anything to diffuse the situation they were in. Nothing would. Two men, tied against each other to chairs, a ticking bomb underneath them. Each of them with a timer at their feet, tick...tick...ticking until either the cavalry arrives...don’t. Neither man was a stranger to explosives, multiple experiences on both of their resumes, but that also didn’t help to ease the adrenaline surging their their veins, the hollow feeling in their chest, that everything could end in a flash and bang...the thought that they would not make it out of this, together.
“I’m sorry...I, uh...I’m--” Greg’s voice was quivering, his body was shaking--Nick could feel it on his back, which sent a shiver down his own spine.
“It’s okay,” Nick replied softly. How he wished he could just cup his hand on Greg’s cheek, rub his thumb up and down, telling him all of the things that he should have said two years ago...when did things go so wrong between them?
“Listen, Greg, I just...I just wanted to say...I’m sorry, for the way--”
“No. Not here. Not now.”
“When, then? You’ve been dodging me, ever since--”
“I know. And I’m sorry, for that.”
“You don’t need to apologize--”
“Yes, I do. I wasn’t...I didn’t...I should have been more patient, with you, Nick. This situation is showing me...sometimes...it’s better to forget.”
“Nah, man, you--you gave me the kick in the ass I needed, to get better...For you.”
Nick sniffled, which served to spike up the pain in his swollen nose, a reminder, of what awaited him and the rest of his body if he tried to escape again.
“I was in a bad place, for a while. A place worse than this...hellhole we’re trapped in, and the hole just got deeper when you and I, uh, parted ways. And I-I let myself be consumed by that darkness for a long time...I couldn’t even be there when Sara needed me--”
“Us.”
“--to help her with her break-up and it just...it dawned on me, after that...That I needed to get help. And I did--When I went to that ‘special training’ in Quantico--Cath helped me....she always does.”
They remained silent for a moment, before Greg started to laugh.
“Did she help you grow that beard?”
Nick smiled, and caught on to the contagious laughter of Greg Sanders.
“No, I managed to do that all on my own.”
“I dig it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They continued to laugh, as they knocked their heads into each other accidentally. Greg conjured up all of the images of Nick’s smiling face that he could, mentally photo-shopping a beard onto the Texan’s chin, on the images of him that were popping up without a beard. How he wished he could see the real Nick’s smiling face in this moment, no matter how shattered it was out of the futile escape attempt that landed them both in this situation. Why did Nick have to go and try and be so brave...and so stupid?
As the laughter died down, Nick let out a brief groan.
“How bad’s the pain?”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Maybe a...four? Been worse.”
Liar.
“I remember, when...When I was...Took a while for the stars to go away...Sometimes, when I blink, I still see them.”
The quiver returned to Greg’s voice, before turning to quiet sobs. A surge of anger rose up in Nick’s chest--how dare those bastards put them in this situation, put them back to back, unable to properly touch each other, to see each other...he wanted to scream.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Nick’s breathing got quicker, deeper, suddenly the rope binding his arms to his body was too tight. His arms were out of his control, starting to impulsively struggle against the bonds. He heard Greg cry out his name, wanted to respond, but just as he was struggling to get free...he began to struggle to breathe.
“Christmas!” Nick shouted between gasps for air. “It was...Christmas...in Las Vegas...”
The room fell silent, minus the ticking, and Nick’s broken singing.
“Singing, it, uh...it helped.” Nick told Greg once he counted backwards form ten. “Mostly in the, uh...the box, but also in the restaurant.”
“What was the song?”
“Ah, just a country song. You probably wouldn’t like it.”
“I like hearing you sing. Didn’t know you had such a good voice, Mr. Stokes.”
Nick chuckled, the playfulness in Greg’s voice lightening the mood, however briefly, before his eyes gazed at the timer. He still couldn’t see the numbers, but saw that the minute timer was now down to the single digits. He strained to make out the number in his impaired vision, counting the seconds in his head, mentally, but the fear that it was all about to be over, made him realize, none of it mattered, really, as long as he was with Greg Sanders.
Chapter (1/?): Twilight Visions
Rating: Teen+ (For: Language, Graphics Depictions of Violence)
Pairings: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders (also gen friendship with rest of the team)
Summary: When Greg is abducted at a club by a group of vengeful youth who were part of the group that beat him up in Fannysmackin', it's a race against the clock to find Greg before the final blow is struck on him, and Nick admits some feelings he had tried to keep a secret, but some things can't stay underneath the surface. Nick/Greg, set in late season 7.
Chapter Notes: oh boy...here we go, lads. My first whump fic in which Nick isn't the victim (but don't worry, he's not without his own suffering in this fic)
(tw for a slur thrown at the end of ch. 1, by some ignorant youth.)
Read it on A03
Dusk was always Greg’s favorite time of day. While the bright, yellow sun against the clear blue sky brought a certain warmth and joy, there was a certain comfort, in the twilight hues that filled the sky as the stars began to appear on the multi-colored canvas. There was an awe-inspiring beauty, one that can only be found in this small time window, during a time of day in which he’s normally getting ready for work.
He’s grateful, for a night like tonight, in which he doesn’t have to go into work. A night all to himself, to do whatever he pleased, to fully experience this short window of time that he normally doesn’t get to look at.
“Something on your mind, G? You’re never this quiet.”
And what pleased him the most, was spending time with Nick Stokes.
“Nana Olaf called me this morning,” Greg said, staring at the vast desert landscape as they drove down the never-ending road. A crumpled paper was on his lap, the only direction they had on their excursion on this day.
“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”
“Told me she had a terrible dream--well, not just a dream, a vision. Said it was about me.”
“Really? What’d she see?”
The corners of Greg’s mouth twisted up, he lowered his head. He knew Nick wouldn’t believe it--didn’t believe in that sort of stuff, or at least, he didn’t think so. But Nick seemed to have become a bit more open-minded since Greg’s met him, all those years ago. He knew it was stupid, to think telling Nick about something like this would be so...embarrassing, or maybe to think that Nick was just humoring him, instead of actually caring. He knew Nick cared about him, and the things he had to say, even when he was rambling about nothing in particular.
Greg let out a short, nervous chuckle.
“She didn’t say, actually...but she did tell me, not to go out tonight.”
Nick’s eyes widened, and then his eyebrows narrowed downwards, before a smile spread across his face.
“Maybe she foresaw us gettin’ lost on our way to this new club,” Nick snickered. “You sure you know where we’re going?”
Greg’s heart fell, just slightly. He had almost expected Nick to grow concerned, to take this bad omen for what it was, to suggest that they just go back to Nick’s house, or Greg’s apartment, and spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms.
Because he did know what Nana Olaf saw--or at least, a vague description of it. According to her, she couldn’t distinctly see Greg, but saw bloodied hands, a metal chair, blood drooling from his lips. He hoped it was just a nightmare, that perhaps she was seeing a crime scene that he would be investigating--it did happen before, after all. A week before Nick’s abduction, she had called him, to tell him that she saw Greg, surrounded by dirt, and glass, and white foam, frozen in fear.
“Yeah, ‘course I know where we’re going,” Greg muttered. He squinted down at the paper, wishing his friend had better handwriting. “You’re gonna be taking a left after we get past the city limits sign.”
“Where’d you hear about this place, again?”
“My friend, Trixie. She’s never steered me wrong before.”
“Trixie, huh? Isn’t that the same chick who told you to put bleach in your hair in your senior year of college?”
“Aw, shucks, you remembered!”
Nick shot him one of his looks that he gave Greg when he was semi-annoyed, but the smile still remained on his face.
“Besides, you saw those pictures, I was H-O-T hot with that blonde hair.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Nick murmured under his breath, fiddling with the zipper on his leather jacket. He moved the zipper up and down. An anxious tick. He knew Nick was still a little uneasy about going out, in public, with him.
“You should keep it halfway down. Looks hotter that way,” Greg suggested. He knew Nick wasn’t asking for fashion tips, he had to admit that his friend typically had a good sense of style--when it came to his clothing, at least.
Nick cleared his throat as he did what Greg suggested. Greg noticed that Nick wasn’t wearing a shirt under his jacket. He contemplated telling Nick to pull over, make some excuse to get them out of the car…
“Greg! Which way am I going?”
Greg snapped out of his mind, his voice squeaked as read the instructions to Nick. The sun had finally set, and they were left driving in near darkness. Although they were far from the neon playground in the middle of the desert, the stars in the cloudless sky shined bright enough to give them more light than the beams coming from Nick’s SUV.
“And then...the instructions end. Guess it means we should be seeing it soon.”
“I don’t know, man, it looks like there’s nothing but desert out here. We’re not even on the road anymore.”
“Wait--you see that? Up there?”
Among the vast landscape littered with bushes and boulders, Greg spotted a crowd of cars, all parked haphazardly together, surrounding a small, square building.
“That’s gotta be it.”
They parked off to the side, Greg ran his fingers through the curls of his hair, patted his shirt straight, popped up the collar on his jacket. The slight chill of the night air send a shiver down Greg’s spine as he took a deep breath. The thrill of the night was spreading through his veins. He bounced a little, with a big smile on his face, excited for whatever lay beyond the large steel door, guarded by a large man in a suit. Nick stood opposite him, staring at the door with a frown.
Greg ran a hand through Nick’s hair, in an effort to get his hair to stick up with a slightly messy style. He was grateful that Nick’s hair had grown back, his fingers lingered as he lifted the individual strands upward. Nick didn’t quite realize it, but with that look, he had become one of the most attractive men Greg had ever seen, and was sure to be the envy of the club that night.
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked, fiddling with the zipper on his partner’s leather jacket. He immediately realized why Nick hesitated before he even finished the question. He knew this wasn’t just nerves over going out in public with another man, this was nerves over the fact that this building, on the outside, was way too small to hold all the occupants of the dozens of parked cars.
“Nothing, G. Let’s go,” Nick gulped. His throat was dry, he was biting his lower lip. He cleared his throat again and started towards the door.
“We don’t have to--”
“It’s fine--”
“Nick, I didn’t know--”
“It’s fine, Greg,” Nick growled, and stopped walking. He sighed and turned towards Greg, his expression was a half smile, but Greg didn’t buy it until his hands were sandwiched between Nick’s.
“As long as I’m with you...everything’s fine.”
He planted a small kiss on Greg’s cheek, Greg’s mouth spread into a smile. Nick gave him a satisfied smirk and guided them towards the door. The bouncer nodded at them as he opened the door for them, the soft buzz of music vibrated through their bodies.
The stairway was steep, narrow, only allowed for one occupant at a time. Greg’s hand was held out in front of him as Nick’s arm bent backwards to keep hold of Greg. He grimaced at the tightness of Nick’s grip on his hand, which hand caused Greg’s fingers to stretch out between Nick’s whitened knuckles.
The previously muffled music grew louder and clearer as they made their descent. Once they made it down the stairs and Nick let out a slow, deep exhale. Greg cupped his face in his hand, looked him in the eyes. He asked a nonverbal question, to which Nick nodded in an answer.
“C’mon, let’s get a drink,” Nick shouted over the loud music.
They waded through the crowd of people huddled in the large room, the bar was on the opposite side of the entrance. The room felt smaller than it was, due to the amount of people inhabiting it. Tables and chairs were strewn around the edges of the room, most of the chairs were empty, the tables littered with empty glasses and bottles. In a high-energy environment such as this, there wasn't time for sitting, only dancing. Flashes of white light came from flashing strobe lights in the ceiling, which were the bulls-eyes to black light spirals surrounding the bulbs. A thin layer of smoke hung in the air at waist length, it gave the room an almost dreamy look. Though it was difficult to distinguish facial features from one another in the dim light, a sea of smiles was rising, falling, twirling, colliding. It was the ultimate party.
Greg beamed as he felt a sense of comfort, among people who took this time to forget all their troubles, to expend that last bit of energy pent up inside of them from their long workdays. Night owls, living their life to the fullest.
They made it to the bar, Nick ordered a pair of drinks, he had nearly finished his by the time he handed Greg his own. A flutter of concern floated up Greg’s chest, but was quickly dispelled as he caught up to Nick. The flutter settled down, and Nick’s teeth became the brightest thing in the room.
“Wanna dance?” Nick shouted to him as he finished a second drink--When did he even order a second drink? Greg thought to himself.
“Thought you’d never ask!”
Nick led them towards the crowd, the loud bass from the tall, large speakers aligned with Greg’s heartbeat. They settled into a small gap, Greg bopped his head up and down until he felt his body begin to sway to the beat of the music. He watched Nick similarly warm himself up, settling into a groove that was both ridiculously goofy, and ridiculously hot. He moved his body closer to Nick’s, felt something lift up in his crotch area--he noticed a bulge in Nick’s, too. They grinded their clothed bodies against each other, Greg felt his fingers grab hold of the zipper on Nick’s jacket, thrusting it down to the floor with such speed and force that Nick clenched his jaw as he grabbed the back of Greg’s head, his fingers twisting the curls of Greg’s hair.
Nick leaned his head in, Greg could feel the warmth of Nick’s breath on his neck, his nostrils tingled from the smell of Nick’s alcohol tainted breath. He felt wet lips do their own dance all over his neck, his cheeks, his ears, his nose, until they finally found Greg’s lips. Both pairs of lips merged into one, the world fell beneath them, and Greg floated in the air...before crashing back down as Nick quickly pulled away.
The music had changed, intensified, into a louder and faster song. The strobe lights became more intense. Multiple flashes, in short succession, before it froze for half of a minute. Greg saw Nick’s eyes widen as he stared up at the blinding light, his tongue licked his quivering lips before they were plunged into darkness altogether.
The darkness lingered, for at least a minute, the music stopped. The crowd screamed, playing along with the pseudo horror before the music and lights resumed.
Greg pulled Nick close, wrapping his arms around the man--he was shaking.
“Are you o--” Greg whispered into Nick’s ear, but Nick pushed himself away.
“I’m gonna go get another drink!” He shouted at Greg, before becoming part of the crowd, who were completely unaware at the minor bout of drama between the two men.
Greg’s heart sank as Nick walked away, but a stunning brunette woman walked up to him, and Greg let himself fall into a trance, as he became acquainted with this new angel.
The lights went off, the masks went on. Their contacts were already in, their eyes still glowed in the absence of light. Now the party could really begin.
They shook with laughter as the crowd screamed, some of the screams having started from the discovery of these masked maniacs--who, they had not realized, were there the whole time, lurking, waiting for a moment like this.
The lights came back on, and the crowd forgot its hysteria, and resumed their own laughter and cheers.
“Get a load of those fags!”
One of them gestured to two men, wrapped in an embrace. One of the men looked like he had just pissed his pants, the other was trying to console him. Were they that afraid of the dark? Of the big bad wolves, disguised as human beings? They hoped that the men were afraid, because if they weren’t, they would be--very, very soon.
“Hey...isn’t that the Sanders guy? The one that hit Demetrius?”
The group nodded to each other, snapped a picture, sent it to their leader, who was offsite at the time. They watched as the man Sanders was with broke apart from him, left him alone.
Easy prey.
Their phones buzzed, a message, from the ultimate Big Bad himself.
