CSI Fic: Thou Shalt Not Cook - Part 1
Title: Thou Shalt Not Cook - Part 1
Author: Jedi Princess Clarrisani
Beta and Co-conspirator: Stalker of Shadows
Dedication: For
piratekitten and
puppytraining
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Nick/Greg
Warnings: N/A
Setting: Season 5 - between ‘No Humans Involved’ and ‘Who Shot Sherlock’
Summary: Nick and Greg set out to cook their first Christmas dinner as a couple, and the lab is betting against them…
Disclaimer: Do not own. If I did, there would be a lot more scenes of Nick and Greg together… in more ways than one…
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“Cranberry sauce?”
“Check.”
“Butter?”
“Check.”
“Sultanas?”
“Check.”
“Potatoes?”
“Check.”
“Turkey?”
“…”
“Greg, where’s the turkey?”
“…”
Nick turned toward his boyfriend, spotting Greg as the other searched through the bags and ingredients spread out on the kitchen counter. As he went Greg’s frown continued to deepen, faint confusion in his eyes that turned to annoyance as he let the last bag drop. After seeming to ponder for a moment, his eyes lit up and he turned to Nick.
“I think I saw a chicken in the freezer.”
“Greg…” Nick crossed his arms over his chest, nodding toward the clipboard and list on the counter in front of him. “I thought I told you to get the turkey.”
“No, I told you to get the turkey.” Greg shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get it.”
“Why would I get it when you were supposed to.”
“I was in charge of getting everything for the pudding and fruit cake. You were in charge of the main course.”
Nick shook his head. “You said you’d get the turkey when you picked up the brandy.”
“The brandy was on the other side of town.” Greg shot him a look. “You know, for Mr Dependable you’re not very dependable.”
Nick rolled his eyes, scooping up the list and sighing heavily. “We’ll just have to go with the chicken.”
Greg turned to the fridge, pulling open the freezer and fishing out the large chicken and dropping it onto the counter with a crack, sending ice crystals over the surface. Closing the freezer, he leaned against the fridge. “Okay, what’s next?”
Nick glanced down at the list, frowning. “Well, I think we’ve got everything we need to begin, so… you make a start on the pudding and I’ll sort out the chicken and vegetables.”
Greg nodded, gathering up the ingredients he needed and claiming a spot on the counter to work. Nick smiled faintly as he set the list down and picked up the chicken. He and Greg had been together for almost seven months now, so this would be their first Christmas as a couple and they had decided to share it by cooking a traditional dinner.
Recent times had been a strain on their relationship - only a month ago Ecklie had split up the team, placing Nick on swing while Greg was on graveyard. On occasion Greg still worked in the lab so Nick got to see him, but it could be any day now that Grissom let Greg redo his final proficiency, making the younger a fully fledged CSI 1.
But they had managed to score Christmas off: it was Nick’s year anyway, and Greg had managed to beg Grissom who had relented - most likely to get Greg off his back.
Nick frowned as he tried to let go of the chicken, swearing softly as he shook his hands and feeling the burn in his fingertips. Hearing his name, he looked up and spotted Greg watching him. “Damned ice has stuck to my fingers.”
Greg chuckled, reaching out and grabbing Nick’s arm and guiding him toward the sink. Nick stuck his hands under the water, the burning increasing before the chicken fell into the sink with a thud. Nick tucked his hands under his armpits, willing the feeling back into his fingertips as Greg carefully picked up the chicken, peeling off the wrapping and leaving it for Nick to finish.
Nick watched as Greg went back to sorting out the ingredients, Nick sighing as he picked up the clipboard, tugging loose the page Greg would need for the pudding and handing it across to his boyfriend, Nick then taking out the directions for the turkey. He chuckled to himself as he realised that Mrs Sanders had made a footnote about how to adjust for other meats (including chicken) when she had sent them the directions. She seemed to know they would make a mess.
When they had first decided to make the traditional dinner, they had revealed to each other that neither of them had ever cooked one before. They had hit their phones straight away, ringing home and asking their mothers for directions. Mrs Sanders provided for the turkey; Mrs Stokes had sent her famous pudding recipe.
Skimming the instructions, Nick followed them to the letter only to pause as he came to the final step. “Hey, G. Did you see how long this is going to take to cook?”
“No.” Nick looked up and stifled his laugh as he saw the flour on the front of Greg’s shirt and the mess on the counter. Greg held up a hand. “Don’t ask.”
“I won’t.” Nick waved the paper. “Says here that we have to cook this for a couple of hours on moderate heat in the oven.”
Greg frowned. “But we need the oven for the cake, and that takes a couple of hours too.”
“Yeah.” Nick frowned. “This isn’t going to work.”
Greg looked around, grinning and pointing. “We could always nuke the chicken.”
Nick looked at the microwave, raising an eyebrow. “Well, there is a selection for poultry on there, so we could.”
“Save time.”
“Yeah, it would.”
Nick headed for the cupboard as Greg headed for the fridge, Nick digging out a microwave dish and moving back to switch the chicken into it. He frowned as he set the chicken in the microwave.
“Hey G, I don’t think we’re supposed to microwave a chicken when it’s frozen.”
“Just add extra time onto it. Should be fine.” Greg shrugged, setting the eggs from Nick’s fridge on the table. “I’ve done it before and didn’t get sick.”
“Mm-hm.” Nick closed the microwave door, setting it onto high and keying in the selection for poultry and adding a few extra minutes just in case. “How’s the pudding going?”
“It’s going.”
Greg swore as he fumbled with the egg container, one slipping from its box and landing on the floor with a crack. Both Nick and Greg gagged at the smell that instantly filled the kitchen, calling upon every trained method of control as Greg picked up the container, searching for the used-by date.
“Nick, these are three months out of code!”
“Only?” Nick searched out the cleaning products and hurried to clean up the offending green smear on the floor.
Greg stalked back to the fridge, gazing inside. Nick frowned as Greg began poking around, Nick placing the egg and its remaining companions in a bag and hurrying outside to toss it in the trash. When he came back in Greg was still in the fridge, Nick watching him for a moment before grabbing the disinfectant and finishing the cleaning up. The smell still clung to the air, but Nick figured that once they had everything cooking the smell would vanish.
“That’s it.” Greg slammed the fridge door shut, turning to lean against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m declaring your fridge a violation of every health law known to man.”
Nick blinked as he put away the cleaning materials. “Why?”
“Your tomatoes are white, your lettuce is black, and what’s green in there probably shouldn’t be green. There is a mould farm in your yogurt, there’s speckled mush in your butter container, your milk could be mistaken for cream save the yellow and bad smell, and the list goes on. Want me to continue?”
Nick shook his head. “Well, it’s your fault.”
Greg blinked. “My fault?”
“Yeah. I’ve been spending all my time at your apartment so I haven’t had a chance to clean out my fridge. I usually clean it every two weeks.”
“You’re anal, you know that?”
Nick snorted. “At least I know what colour my bedroom floor is.”
“So do I.” Greg waved it off. “At least my fridge isn’t a biohazard.”
“I wouldn’t put money on that.” Nick pulled a face. “That hot stuff almost killed me.”
“I told you not to take a big mouthful of the wasabi. You just didn’t listen.” Greg sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll clean the fridge later. I bought some eggs just in case, so we’re fine.”
Nick nodded, moving to gaze down into the bowl and frowning, poking at the dry mixture. “Is it supposed to be that lumpy?”
“Couldn’t find your sieve.”
Nick turned to the cupboards, going through them and finding that Greg was right - his sieve was indeed missing. He heard Greg make a small noise of realisation and turned to watch Greg vanish out the door. Nick made one last pass over the kitchen to confirm that the sieve was MIA before moving to the still full plastic bags, going through them and locating the new eggs and setting them down.
Hearing Greg re-enter, Nick took one look at what was in his hands and shook his head. “Greg, no.”
Greg grinned. “Oh come on-”
“No.” Nick planted his hands on his hips. “You are not using that.”
“But it’s made to sift things.”
“Yeah. Dirt and sand or whatever other crap evidence could be buried in.” Nick narrowed his eyes. “It’s probably filled with dirt too.”
“So? It’ll add extra crunch.” Greg set the sieve on the table, gesturing down at it. “It’s a sieve, Nick. Just because it isn’t used exclusively for cooking doesn’t mean it can’t be.”
“I doubt Ecklie will be thrilled with the notion of CSI equipment being used to make pudding.”
“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” Greg shrugged. “I’ll run it under the tap before I use it. It’s either this or lumpy pudding. Your call.”
Nick stared at him for a moment before sighing in defeat. “Fine. Just make sure to wash it with detergent.”
Greg practically danced over to the sink, making short work of washing the sieve as Nick sorted out the remainder of the ingredients. Greg dried off the sieve and by silent, unspoken agreement Nick took it, holding it over a new bowl as Greg poured the dry mixture through it. Nick had to admit that this sieve was working, and if he put to the back of his mind it had most likely last been used to sift for body parts, he’d have no problem with it at all.
A sharp trill broke the silence, causing Nick to jump. Greg gasped as he found himself with a face full of flour, glaring at Nick through dusty lashes as Nick tried to stifle his laughter. Brushing off his face, Greg reached for his phone and stepped out of the kitchen leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Nick searched out the broom, ear to the living room as Greg took the call.
“Sanders… yeah, I have the night off tonight… no, I already have plans… no, that’s okay, I do… Yeah, I know, but I haven’t had a night off for a while… Grissom says the proficiency should be soon, and I’d rather be in the field than the lab… Why thank you.” Nick paused, noting how Greg’s voice had softened slightly, taking on that flirty edge. “I do appreciate the offer, but like I said I have other arrangements… No, it’s fine, really… I’m sorry that I can’t join you. Maybe some other time?... Okay… Okay, thanks… Yeah, you too… See you.”
Nick looked away as he went back to what he was doing, cleaning up the remainder of the flour and trying to appear preoccupied as Greg wandered back into the kitchen. “So… who was that?”
“Does it really matter?” Greg sighed, catching his reflection in the fridge door and brushing more flour from his face and hair.
“Well, yeah.” Nick snagged the brush and shovel, rounding up the lasts of the flour. “You were flirting with them.”
Greg made a choking noise, eyes wide as he spun to look at Nick. “Hell no.”
Nick dumped the flour into the bin. “You should have heard yourself.”
Greg winced. “I was not flirting with Ecklie.”
“Ecklie?” Nick pointed toward the phone clipped on Greg’s belt. “That was Ecklie?”
“Yeah. He was wondering if I was coming in tonight, and asking what I had planned for Christmas.”
“Why?”
Greg shrugged. “He offered me dinner.”
Nick blinked. “Ecklie asked you to dinner.”
“What I said.”
“Mm-hm.” Nick set the cleaning materials away, planting his hands on his hips and watching his boyfriend. “So let me get this straight - Ecklie has your number, the two of you were flirting, and he asked you out on a date for Christmas.”
“He did not ask me out on a date.” Greg scoffed. “That’s a big stretch, Nicky.”
“Not that big, G. You’re always kissing that guy’s arse.”
Greg rolled his eyes, snatching up the sieve and remaining flour. “Sort out the fruit and get the pot on the stove.”
Nick grinned, knowing he’d won that round. He moved passed Greg, reaching up to ruffle his hair and dislodge more of the flour, brushing a kiss over Greg’s cheek. Greg swatted him away, but Nick caught the smile. Chuckling, Nick picked up the fruit and began to measure out how much was required for the pudding.
He frowned as he handed Greg the cup. “How much fruit did we buy?”
“Enough. Why?”
“Enough for both the pudding and the cake?”
Greg paused, frowning. “Ah… maybe.”
Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes as he reached for the clipboard with the other hand. He pulled the sheet for the Christmas fruit cake free and gazed at it, setting his jaw. “Just.”
“Still enough.”
“We got lucky.” Nick leaned against the counter, watching as Greg finished mixing up the pudding. Nick moved to the stove, picking up the pot he had sitting there and filling it with a little water, bringing it back to Greg. Greg scooped the mixture into a metal bowl, picking it up and placing it into the water filled pot. Nick returned the pot to the stove, switching it on and setting the lid in place.
“Guess I’ll start on the cake,” Greg said.
“Better wash up first, G. We’ve used most of the bowls we need with the pudding and getting the chicken ready.”
Greg sighed dramatically, snatching up the bowls and stalking over the dishwasher.
“Ah, Greg. Might wanna use the sink.”
Greg paused, looking back. “What’s wrong with the dishwasher?”
“It’s kinda full from earlier. I came home and found a whole heap of dirty dishes and chucked them all in there.” Nick frowned. “Dirt was so caked on they’re on their second cycle.”
“Well, we could just chuck them in with the rest.”
Greg tugged at the door, yelping and dropping the bowls as he was hit full in the face by spray, the dishwasher door snapping shut again. Nick wasn’t sure what to think as he watched the proceedings, the shattering crack of a bowl on the floor causing his eyes to widen and stepping forward he dropped down, scooping up pieces before Greg could step on them.
“You okay, G?”
“No.” Greg swore, madly rubbing at his hair. “I had a shitload of flour in my hair and now there’s water in it.”
“Oh yeah. Glue.” Nick looked up. “Go shower, man. I’ll do the dishes.”
Greg nodded, stepping quickly toward the passage and disappearing into the bathroom. Nick sighed, picking up the broken bowl and staring down at it. He had several bowls - eight or nine, give or take - but only one of those bowls held sentimental value. And guess which bowl Nick was currently holding the pieces of.
Setting his jaw, Nick carefully put the pieces of his late grandmother’s china bowl into a bag. He’d put it back together again later, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. Every time his parents came to visit his mother always asked to use the bowl, and Nick wasn’t sure how he was going to break it to her that it had… well, broken.
Nick gathered up the remaining dishes, setting them in the sink and pausing as he heard the water running in the bathroom. He sighed, realising the failings in his plan - he couldn’t run the water while Greg was in the shower. On the other hand, Greg had broken his grandmother’s bowl.
Nick turned the faucet on full.
He let it run for a moment, tossing the plug in and sniggering as he heard the yelp come from the bathroom followed by Greg hollering his name. He didn’t relent until the sink was full, only then switching off the water and washing the dishes, listening to the muffled curses. Greg certainly had a colourful vocabulary when he wanted to use it.
Nick had washed all the dishes and cleaned up the mess from their previous disasters by the time Greg emerged from the hall wearing the jeans he had left there last visit and one of Nick’s shirts. Nick felt his mouth water at the sight - Greg always looked hot in his clothing, mainly because it practically fell off his shoulders. Greg might be taller than him, but Nick had a larger frame.
“You can be a cruel bastard.”
Nick looked up at him innocently. “Huh?”
“You know.” Greg sighed, stopping beside Nick to look down at the remaining spread of ingredients. “Cake?”
“Cake.” Nick smiled, sliding an arm around Greg’s waist. “Then vegies.”
“Then food I hope. I’m starving.” Greg leaned against him for a moment before shifting out of his hold, reaching for the bowl - plastic this time - and recipe. “If we work together it’ll take up half the time.”
“Works for me.”
They distributed the chores, working their way through the recipe with surprisingly no mishaps. They were almost done when the doorbell rang, Greg leaving Nick to stir the mixture and heading for the door. Nick frowned at the low voices before Greg called out for him.
“Nick! There’s a hot blonde cowgirl on your doorstep holding a mistletoe!”
Nick blinked, setting the bowl down on the table and stepping around the counter so that he could see the front door. He started, scowling and growling as he joined Greg in the doorway.
“Hiya, Nick!” The women was indeed hot, very blonde, and indeed dressed as a cowgirl right down to the spurs on her boots. Blue eyes sparkled beneath over painted lids, her southern accent put on despite her actually being southern. She giggled as she saw Nick, the thing she had clutched in her hand - no doubt the mistletoe - she moved to hide behind her back. “I’m here.”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t remember inviting you, Mary Lou.”
Greg snorted, fighting back his laugh. “She, uh… said you were expecting her.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Course you were. Remember, Nick? I promised ya I’d come for Christmas.”
Nick sighed heavily. “That was back before Easter.”
“But I still promised ya!”
Greg looked at him and raised an eyebrow, Nick shaking his head and looking back at Mary Lou. “We only went out a couple of times.”
“But those times were great!” Mary Lou bounced on the spot, effectively making Greg’s everyday happy/bouncy routine seem tame. “So here I am. Brought me own mistletoe and everything.”
“Mary Lou, I really think that you should go home.” Nick spotted the faint amusement on Greg’s face, but it was the underlining dark spark that really caught his eye. Greg wanted her gone now, and Mary Lou didn’t seem to be taking any hint. “Just… just go home, Mary Lou.”
“But this is me home! You said come for Christmas and I can stay!”
“No, you said that.” Nick shook his head. “Don’t you… have a boyfriend…”
“That’s you, silly.” Mary Lou’s grin got impossibly bigger: Greg’s expression got more dangerous. Nick wasn’t sure which was scarier. “You, me, us. Don’t it sound so right? So send your cute friend here home and we’ll have ourselves a real Christmas to remember!”
“Doubt I’ll forget this one,” Greg muttered under his breath.
Nick cleared his throat, trying to force down his annoyance. “Mary Lou, I didn’t make any kind of promise like that. And this guy here is more than a friend.”
“But you did promise.” She pouted, Nick suddenly remembering why he had broken up with her in the first place. If you had a fetish for suffocating relationships, Mary Lou was your gal. Besides, around that time Nick had finally started to read Greg’s signals for what they really were. “You promised it would be us and Christmas. I’ve been waiting all year. Flew in just for it.”
Oh yeah. She’d moved to Houston. That was how he’d managed to drop her without the violent waterworks.
“Mary Lou, just go home.”
She shook her head, clutching the mistletoe tighter. “Nah-ah. A promise is a promise. And while your friend is cute he…” She frowned, looking at Greg. “Are you wearing Nick’s shirt?”
Greg nodded, eyes hard. He was starting to remind Nick of a falcon, just waiting for the right moment to swoop in and kill. If Nick didn’t lose Mary Lou soon things were going to get ugly.
“Nick’s such a great friend.” She beamed. “You two best friends?”
The corner of Greg’s eye twitched. “Boyfriends.”
“Well, duh. You’re both boys.” She was practically bubbling.
Greg was practically stewing. “Who are sleeping together.”
“Nick’s letting you share his bed? How sweet of him!”
Nick wanted to sigh and smack his head against the doorframe. Reason number three he had refused anymore dates with this girl. Nick moved to plant himself between Greg and the spare gun - Greg looked ready to shoot her.
“Mary Lou,” Nick said softly. “You really should go.” While you still can.
“Aw, but aren’t you cute. Pretending you don’t want me to stay when you really do! And it smells like you’re cooking dinner for me and everything!” She bounced. “What is it? Turkey? Cranberry sauce and roast vegetables?”
“Mary Lou…”
“Look, take a hint already,” Greg cut in. “Nick doesn’t want you here. We don’t want you here. Now go away so we can finish making our dinner and eat it.”
Mary Lou stared at him a moment before turning to Nick. “Your friend isn’t very nice, is he.”
“For Christ’s sake!” Greg growled. “How many times do we have to say it for it to sink in? You are not wanted. The only promises made were in your own mind. Go find your own boyfriend and leave mine alone.” With that he stepped back, grabbing Nick by the back of the shirt and pulling him away from the door before proceeding to slam it in Mary Lou’s face. He flicked the lock, shooting Nick a quick exasperated look as she began pounding on the door.
Nick groaned, calling out to the woman. “Go home, Mary Lou, or I’ll call the police!”
Nick rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped back around into the kitchen, spotting a still peeved Greg leaning back against the fridge with his arms crossed over his chest. Nick swallowed hard, He had a feeling that the next words out of Greg’s mouth were not going to be pleasant. Everyone always assumed that Greg was incapable of intense anger and verbal abuse - anyone who really knew Greg feared him for it.
“So where’d you pick that one up?” Greg asked. “Blonde Bimbo Whores R Us?”
“Greg…” Nick set his jaw, leaning back against the counter and wincing as he felt something squishy. He pulled his hand back and looked down to find dough from the pudding. “She’s a girl I met at a club earlier this year. I took her out twice, and dumped her for the very reason of what you just saw.”
“Right.” Greg narrowed his eyes. “And how many more of these ‘girls from clubs’ should I be expecting to knock on your door?”
“I wasn’t even expecting this one.” Nick sighed, moving to the sink to wash off his hand. “I swear, first thing next shift I’m heading to HQ to put out a TRO against her.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Greg’s eyes narrowed. “You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you. They’re either blonde bimbos or whores.”
Nick looked up sharply. “Hey. That’s low, man.”
“Apparently so are your standards.” Greg grunted. “So what, she just offered for you to come in for coffee or a drink and you ended up staying the night at her place? We all know what happened last time you did that with a whore.”
Kristi. He was talking about Kristi. “Don’t even go there!” Nick turned off the faucet, swinging around to face Greg completely. “And who are you to talk. At least you don’t see me blowing myself up just so I can score sympathy sex with the girl I’m after.”
Greg’s eyes widened as he realised what Nick was alluding to, and without a word he spun on his heel and headed for the back door. Instantly Nick felt panic wash over him as he realised Greg was going to walk out - he was only heading for the back door because Mary Lou was still wailing at the front. He managed to catch him on the porch, grabbing the back of Greg’s shirt and stepping out of the line of fire when Greg swung around and tried to swipe him.
“Woah, woah, Greg, I’m sorry.” Nick held up his hands. “I didn’t mean that.”
“You did five seconds ago.” Greg seethed. “I did not blow up the lab to make Sara sleep with me. She did that on her own accord.”
“I know. Sara would never go for the sympathy sex crap.” Nick shook his head. “Look, Kristi is still a touchy subject for me, okay? I got defensive.”
“You think?”
Nick frowned, looking back toward the house. “As for Mary Lou, she’s actually worse than she used to be. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I obviously wasn’t thinking at all”
Greg snorted. “You were obviously very drunk to even consider that. What, you prefer ditzy people? Does it give you a chance to fill some sort of superiority complex?”
“G, don’t. Of course it doesn’t. I just thought she was hot.” Nick smiled sheepishly. “And she was kinda amusing. For a while.”
“I see.” Greg narrowed his eyes. “So what, you like people that amuse you?”
Nick frowned. “Greg…”
“Do I amuse you?”
“Greg, don’t.” Nick shook his head. “Of course you don’t. I mean, you do, but you kinda aim to amuse everyone at the lab. But that’s not why I’m with you.” Nick set his jaw, reaching out to caress Greg’s cheek. “I’m with you because I love you. And who cares about the past. You’re my future, Greg.”
Greg couldn’t fight the smile, leaning into Nick’s hand as his eyes sparkled. “You do realise how corny that sounded, right?”
“Yeah. Don’t ever make me say that again.” Nick pulled a face as he moved his hand to the back of Greg’s neck, pulling him forward into a tight embrace. He buried his face into Greg’s neck, breathing in his scent. “Although it is true.”
“Good to know.” Greg returned the hug, leaning into Nick and sighing. “Our first fight.”
“First of many.” Nick chuckled. “Gotta admit we have conflicting personalities.”
“Yeah, but it adds an element of interest.” Greg pulled back, brushing his lips against Nick’s. “So what are you going to do about blonde and brainless out there?”
“Make good on the TRO threat, for one. Next shift it’ll be the first thing I do.” Nick caught Greg’s lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it gently before sucking on it and hearing Greg let out a shuddering breath. He made to pull back but Greg fisted his hair, crushing their lips together in a fierce kiss, Nick moaning as it went straight to his groin. Pulling back he gasped, forcing down his raging desire that almost doubled at the innocent look on Greg’s face. “Stop it, G. We’ve got to finish making this Christmas cake and get it in the oven.”
Greg smiled and shrugged. “What’s 10 minutes going to do?”
“Greg…” Nick sighed. “Both you and I know that if we start anything it’ll end up being 10 hours, not 10 minutes.”
“I can’t help it if you can’t get enough of me.”
“Yes, you can.” Nick stepped back, catching Greg by the front of the shirt and pulling him back into the house, all the while trying to ignore how by pulling the shirt he was exposing a good deal of Greg’s chest. He let go and looked away when the neckline slid half off one shoulder. Greg had obviously found one of Nick’s bigger shirts, because there was no way one of his tight ones would fall off like that.
“Admit it, Nicky.” Greg pressed himself against Nick’s back as they walked, Greg closing the door with his foot and catching hold of Nick’s hips. “You wouldn’t mind a little fun and games-”
“Stop it, Greg.” Nick let out a long breath, driving his elbow back only to have Greg shift out of the way of the blow. “No fun and games until after everything is done.”
“Spoil sport.”
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TBC - Part 2 to follow