Title: Untitled Greg/Speed AU
By:Caroline Crane
Pairing: Greg/Speed
Rating: PG-13
Note: That's right, I did actually start this thing at one point. In fact, almost all of what follows is the scene from the Four Things fic, but I'm leaving it in for context, because I think I got three paragraphs into the next part before Nick protested rather loudly and I gave up. I've since restarted a different approach to this universe.

Canon sort of Jossed this in season four anyway, so I'd have to go back and rewrite those three paragraphs at the end. Which I'm not going to do, because...no.

~

His name was Tim, but everybody called him Speed. At first Greg had thought that was kind of funny, but then he'd actually showed up and Greg stopped laughing. He couldn't even remember what he'd found so amusing in the first place, because Tim Speedle was quiet and gentle but so smart that he just sort of radiated intelligence.
It made Greg a little nervous at first, but once he got past feeling threatened all he really wanted to do was find out as much as he could about Speedle before he was gone again.

They only had three days – three days in which Tim was actually leading a panel on fiber analysis at the forensics convention – and then it was back to Miami for Tim and back to his same monotonous routine for Greg. Three days, and Greg wasted the first trying to put together an opening line that wouldn't totally humiliate him.

He never did come up with one, but in the end it didn't matter, because Tim himself marched right over after a panel on DNA analysis, stuck out his hand, and said, "Vegas, right? Tim Speedle, Miami."

Tim's hands were warm and a little rough, strong but not too strong, and Greg had to work hard not to imagine them on other parts of his body. "Greg Sanders."

"I saw you at my fiber symposium," Tim said, holding on to Greg's hand just a second or two longer than necessary. "You a CSI?"

"DNA tech," Greg answered, hoping Tim wouldn't hold that against him. "But I've been out in the field a few times."

Tim nodded as though that was perfectly reasonable, and Greg reminded himself to breathe again. "I do a little of both myself. To tell you the truth, sometimes I prefer the lab. At least the evidence doesn't talk back."

Greg knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to stop and anyway, Tim didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was already caught up in a monologue about advances in DNA technology, and Greg found himself working hard to keep up enough not to embarrass himself. It was nice to talk to someone who actually understood what he did every night in the lab, and he found himself wishing that Tim worked in the Vegas lab just so he'd have someone to talk to.

He wasn't sure who suggested dinner, but it seemed like a natural progression and before he knew it he was leading Tim out of the hotel and across the Strip to a restaurant with the 'decent seafood' Tim had been missing since he left Miami. Their dinner conversation consisted mostly of shop talk, but Greg discovered that behind that gentle smile Tim had a sense of humor. One hour stretched into two stretched into three, until finally it was after ten and Vegas was starting to come alive.

"Guess I should head back," Tim said as he paid the check that Greg hadn't been fast enough to get. "Early day tomorrow."

Greg nodded, swallowing an unreasonable surge of disappointment. He didn't want the night to end, but Tim didn't really strike him as the nightlife type. Greg still hadn't figured out if the other man was interested or if he was just looking for somebody to talk DNA and fiber samples with, and he wasn't sure he was going to find out.

As they headed back to the hotel he started to mumble something about going home and getting a good night's sleep for once, but when they reached the lobby Tim nodded toward the elevator and asked if he wanted to come up. So maybe it had been a date after all, but Tim made everything feel so natural that Greg didn't really stop to wonder if he was misreading signals. Instead he followed Tim into the elevator and up to the seventeenth floor, then down a hallway and into a nice – if a little modest by Vegas standards – hotel room.

Their first kiss was as gentle as Tim's voice, and when Tim began undressing him Greg got the distinct feeling he was being worshipped. Tim's hands were as strong and warm on Greg's skin as he'd expected, and when he saw the scars on Greg's back for the first time Greg forgot to be self-conscious. He told Tim about the explosion in breathy whispers as the other man traced the marks on his back with fingers and mouth, and when Greg came he couldn't help whispering Tim's name as though they'd been lovers for ages.

It wasn't Greg's first one night stand, but it was the first time he'd slept with someone he sort of worked with. Only there were more slow kisses while he pulled his clothes back on, then promises to meet again tomorrow night, and suddenly it wasn't a one night stand anymore. Greg wasn't sure what the precedent was for two-night stands with lab rats from southern Florida, but he'd never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tim seemed to like his company, anyway, and that was a lot more than he could say for the Vegas CSIs lately. And he wasn't going to get his hopes up, but he'd never been to Florida before.

~

Nick knew he didn't have a right to be jealous. He wasn't even sure what he was jealous of; the fact that Greg was leaving the hotel with that guy from Miami for the second night in a row didn't necessarily mean anything. It was possible they were just friends, maybe they'd gone to Berkeley together and kept in touch after college.

It was possible, but he didn't believe it for a second, especially when he watched a hand land on Greg's back and linger for a few seconds. But he wasn't jealous, because he and Greg were just friends. He was just worried; he'd noticed how much quieter Greg was after the accident, more subdued and focused on his work. Just a few days before the explosion he'd been badgering Grissom harder than ever about letting him out into the field, but after he came back from a few weeks of sick leave it was like all the fight had gone out of him.

He wasn't sure if anybody else had noticed, although he got a feeling from the way Catherine tiptoed around Greg now that she'd seen the change. Then again, maybe she just felt guilty about being more or less responsible for the explosion in the first place.