Work Text:
*
Since Nick came home, there've been a lot of little changes. None of them overly life altering, but I've noticed just the same.
Like, now, if I'm coming up behind Nick when he's alone in a quiet room, I scuff my feet, or hum, or cough to make my presence known before I actually reach him. We both pretend that we don't know I'm doing it on purpose, or that doing it any other way would startle him.
I used to (before Mr. Gordon interfered with our lives) like to sneak up on Nick when I'd find him standing, lost in thought, at the kitchen counter, or gazing out the window. I'd sneak up on him so slowly, so quietly and slip my hands around his waist and nuzzle my face into his neck. Sometimes, instead of my hands around his waist, I'd slide them over his eyes and ask, "Guess who?" just to hear him rattle off the possibilities.
No, there is definitely no more of that.
Nick changed our alarm clock, too. The digital display of the old clock radio cast a green haze over the dark room, which did nothing to ease him into sleep, or to stop the nightmares.
Apparently red isn't a good colour either.
The new clock has a light blue display. Not that I miss the old alarm. Just that I've noticed the change.
The radio is always on in the kitchen now, but it's no longer tuned to the station Nick used to listen to. The one he listened to that night. Now, it's tuned to another country station that is guaranteed not to play that song. Keith Urban and Gary Allan have started to grow on me, but I've started to miss Merle Haggard and Hank Williams and the other station's personalities. Not that I'd tell Nick that. Just that I've noticed is all.
Of course, not all changes are bad.
We used to sleep on our own separate sides of the bed, half an arm's length away. Now, when he sleeps (or tries to) Nick wraps himself around me like a child clinging to a teddy bear. I always take this as an opportunity to lay my head on his chest, to hear his heart beating, feel his breathing. I trace lazy patterns over the skin of his back and plant soft kisses across his chest and along his shoulder until I fall asleep, his possessive grip on me never lessening all night long.
During his waking hours he calls his mom more now. Before she used to call and leave messages that Nick rarely remembered to return. Now, he sets aside some time every week to call home and he and his mom talk for hours. Not great for the phone bill, but definitely good for Nick.
As I ponder the changes that chance has dealt us, Nick embraces me from behind, sliding his warm, strong hands across my abdomen. He whispers my name, "Greggo," the way only he can, against my ear, setting a thousand butterflies loose in my stomach. And I realize - some things never change.
*