Title: Assist
By: postnotice
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Warning: WIP
Summary: In which Greg gets sick and deals with the consequences.

"I put my cell number, my – our office phone number, the lab number, and my house number on the list next to your cell, just in case. You need anything, you call, alright?"

Greg grunted and pressed his head into the pillow, grinding his teeth and willing away the nausea. "'Kay."

"And I mean anything, if you need the fork picked up off your floor, call me. Or if the remote's too far out of reach. I'll get away and I'll be here." Nick hovered in the doorway, and Greg grunted again. "Or—"

"Shut up and go to work, Nick," Greg moaned, closing his eyes tightly. His stomach twisted and turned. Nick was silent. "I'll be fine," he continued reassuringly, though he was pretty sure he needed more reassurance than Nick did. He felt like crap – if he wasn't throwing up, he was freezing. If he was throwing up, he was insanely warm. When the vomiting passed, the sweat turned cold and he was freezing again. Not to mention the headaches and the dry heaving when his stomach was empty.

Oh, and remembering what he'd eaten the day before. That was a pleasant experience. He'd forgotten about the early-morning tacos, though he much preferred them when they weren't laced with his stomach acid.

"You're sure you're okay, then? You don't need me to do anything else before I go?"

Greg flipped over onto his back, giving himself a moment for the dizziness to go away before saying, "It's the flu, Nick. I'm not dying."

Nick still didn't look convinced, but Greg stared until he gave in. "Alright. I'll be back as soon as I can be, okay?" Greg nodded, feeling his stomach turn. The water wasn't settling well. Great. He smiled and waved Nick out of the room, trying to find the bucket next to the bed quietly. Just as the door closed behind his coworker, Greg's hand found the bucket – along with all the vomit in it.

"Ech…" Greg stared down at his hand, engulfed in the vomit, and made a mental note to tell Nick to make sure he emptied the buckets. It was too late to call him back and Greg was determined to make it through the day on his own.

He threw the covers off with his right hand and sat up, lifting the bucket with his right hand and making his way, slowly as to not to get dizzier, to the bathroom.

The smell of cleansers overwhelmed him and he stood over the sink, dropping the bucket on the ground next to it in favor of bracing his hands on the counter, ignoring the way the bucket slopped over and spilt over the sides onto the floor. The sink was full of Greg's clothes from the night before. He remembered Nick doing it after the first wave of vomiting and telling Greg it couldn't wait to clean off the vomit unless he was willing to throw the clothes away.

Instead, Greg washed off his left hand and breathed slowly in and out his mouth, kneeling down in front of the toilet and staring into the water. He heard a door slam and the water rippled a little, but Greg didn't pay any attention until he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Nick appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and stopped, seeing the mess Greg had created when he'd only been gone two minutes.

"I remembered I forgot to empty the buckets," Nick said hesitantly, looking down at Greg, who was still staring at the water in front of him. "But I think you already knew that." Greg grunted again. "Need some help?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Greg said softly. Nick stepped over the bucket of vomit and reached down to help him up. He pulled on Greg's arm but he just sat there.

"Uh, G?"

Greg grunted.

"You wanna help me out here?"

Greg stood and swayed a moment before falling into Nick, his stomach still turning. Nick wrapped his arms around Greg's lower back and half carried him back into the bedroom.

"I was… I was gonna…"

Nick laid him back down, covering him up while saying, "I know, I know… Shh… I'll get it."

"But…" Greg protested, but his eyelids were drooping and he didn't have the energy to protest as much as he would have liked. Nick headed back into the bathroom, washing his hands before calling Catherine and telling her he wouldn't be into work either.

When he got off the phone with her, he set to work on cleaning up the bathroom floor, finding another bucket under the sink, and bringing it to Greg, who was sleeping soundly, before pulling out the cleanser and scrubbing hard for the second time. It wasn't any different than having to clean up after his nieces and nephews when he babysat – Greg was just less needy than young children are, which Nick wholeheartedly appreciated.

An hour and a half later, when Nick was satisfied, he walked back into Greg's bedroom, being hit with a wave of smell when he opened the door, as well as Greg leaning over the side of the bed and dry heaving again.

Nick sat on the opposite side of the bed, watching Greg and asking if he could do anything to help. Greg shook his head and wiped off his mouth before falling back onto the bed. He let out a low moan. Shivers went up Nick's spine.

"You should really go into a clinic, Greg," he said after clearing his throat.

"No doctors," he replied weakly, waving away the suggestion. "I'll be fine."

"You're still throwing up, almost twenty four hours after you started," Nick pointed out, adjusting his position so he could better see Greg. "You—"

"I need to sleep," he said, looking up at Nick defiantly. Nick frowned when he realized how pale he was. "So go to work or whatever, it'll be easier to rest when I know you're not going to be cleaning up every time I breathe out."

Nick sighed and told Greg he's already called into work and that Catherine let him off work to take care of him.

Greg looked at him oddly but turned onto his side, effectively ending the conversation. Nick stood, intending to leave, when Greg asked, quiet but clear, "Stay?"

Small smile coming to his face, Nick turned back around. "But you just said—"

"I lied. I'll sleep better if you're here."

A look of worry passed across Nick's face before he smiled again. "Alright. Lemme go get some blankets and a pillow—"

"I mean, with me." Greg sounded far too tired to continue arguing, but Nick knew if he didn't do it, he'd hear about it later. Cautiously, he took off his shoes, set his phone on the nightstand, and slid in under the bedding next to Greg, who took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Nick only relaxed when Greg's breathing became normal and had rolled over to face him.

Greg was still pale, dark circles around his eyes, but beyond that he was no different, and Nick took comfort in that, finally closing his eyes and following Greg into sleep.