(no subject)

[helsinkibaby]

demon_faith?? Let us get a few things straight.

I do not write Atlantis.

I do not write slash.

Will read.

Do. Not. Write.

However, this being Christmas and the age of miracles and all, God help me and you and anyone who actually reads this and I know it's nowhere near to being what you're looking for and the prompts are, to be honest, fairly well hidden, but semi-sorta Nick/Greg,


Cheerfully Ridiculous


Nick’s not a man given to flights of fancy, or to daydreams. Reliable from an early age, relentlessly practical, he doesn’t expect the impossible, doesn’t wish for what he can’t have.

Until the day he’s in the Ballistics labs with Bobby, who, since the last of the Thanksgiving turkey was eaten, has had precisely one topic of conversation, that conversation being “Baby’s First Christmas.” Showing Sidle-like obsession, and Sanders-like enthusiasm, he and Mark are going all out to make sure that Lucy’s first Christmas with them is an occasion to remember, and even if Nick, and the rest of the crime lab, find it a little wearing, they all remember the hoops that they had to go through to get Lucy in the first place, the stress, the trauma, the waiting on tenterhooks, followed by the elation, the excitement of bringing her home.

Besides, Lucy is – and Nick would be the first to admit it – one of the cutest babies he’s ever laid eyes on, and in the picture Bobby showed him today, she’s more adorable than ever. In it, Bobby and Mark are on either side of her, smiling widely for the camera, and Lucy is in a little white dress, white hat on her head, a pair of angel wings clearly visible at her back. “My sister sent it,” Bobby says, with a sheepish grin, the kind of grin that people wear when they know they’re being ridiculous and really don’t give a damn. “We couldn’t resist.”

Nick doesn’t think anything of it at the time, just makes some bland comment about how cute Lucy looks, then goes on about his business.

But later, driving to a crime scene, Greg mentions the photograph, and says these exact words – “Doesn’t it make you want to run out and have a bunch of them?”

Nick chuckles, mutters something about how he’d get right on that, but there’s something that doesn’t sit quite right with him, something niggling at the back of his mind.

It’s only later on, when he’s home, alone in a house that’s really meant for a family, his miserable little Christmas tree juxtaposed with the aroma of Christmas cake baking in the oven – Mom’s special recipe; brandy in the fruit mix, brandy in the almond icing, brandy in the white icing; a slice of this cake could single-handedly put you over the limit – that he thinks of the photograph again. This time however, the photo blurs and changes, so that instead of Bobby and Mark, he and Greg are either side of the baby, smiling at the camera, knowing they’re being ridiculous, and cheerfully not giving a damn.

It should freak him out, scare him to death, but it makes him smile, if only for an instant before he realises what he’s doing and pushes the thought out of his mind.

Nick’s not a man given to flights of fancy, to day dreams.

But right then and there, for just a moment, he wishes he were.
>*<*>*<


Now, see my comments up above the story?? Learn, live, love, and we're good.