Title: Bird Is the Word
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Nick Stokes, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Nick peered into the dark living room of the crime scene that he and Greg were about to enter, wrinkling his nose. "I know it's hot outside, but why would anybody want to sit here in the dark?" he asked Greg, going to the window and pulling the curtains open.

"Maybe they liked the dark," Greg suggested, entering the room behind Nick and looking around. "Or maybe they were just trying to keep the place cooled off by keeping the curtains closed. They could have been watching tv and didn't want the sun's glare on the screen."

"Okay, you've got a point there," Nick conceded, blinking as the bright sunlight filled a room that had been darkened and shadowy a few moments before. "Well, well, what have we here?" he murmured, stepping up to a birdcage suspended near the middle of the room.

The brilliantly colored bird inside squawked and pecked at his hand when he extended it; Nick jerked the hand away, not wanting to keep it within pecking range. "Birdie there doesn't seem too friendly," he mused, shaking his head.

"Well, you're in his territory, and he doesn't know you," Greg pointed out, opening the bag he carried and pulling on a pair of gloves. "Come on, Nicky, let's get this done. I don't know why, but this place gives me the creeps. Crime scenes don't usually bother me, but this one is weird."

Nick nodded, knowing how Greg felt. This crime scene did feel strange to him, but maybe it was just because of that bird. The thing kept staring at him, its gaze following every move he made. Maybe that was what Greg was feeling, too.

He didn't notice when the bird silently slipped the restraining handle from the door of its cage; the door swung open, giving the bird all the freedom that it wanted to fly around the room. But it stayed put for the moment, watching the two men doing their work.

Greg was down on the floor, on his hands and knees, peering at something that he'd found on the rug under a glass table. He'd brought out a pair of tweezers, and was carefully reaching for a sample of his findings to put into a plastic bag.

Nick straightened up from the blood evidence he'd been collecting -- just in time to see the bird leave its cage and swoop around the room, its wings outstretched. For a moment, he just stood there watching it, his attention caught by the creature's soaring flight.

His eyes widened when the bird seemed to pick a target and dive; afterwards, he knew that he should have said something, made some sound and warned Greg, but he hadn't been able to get out any words. It had all happened too quickly for him to register fully.

"Polly wanna fanny!" the bird screeched as it dived for Greg -- or rather, for Greg's ass, upended in the air as he bent over to retrieve whatever he was looking at under the table. The bird settled on the young man's backside, digging its talons in as though it was on a perch.

Greg's shriek added to the cacophony that the bird had caused; Nick was sure that he would be out from under the table in a flash and have the bird dislodged from its precarious seat. But he was too far under the table to get out that easily; he'd have to back up.

Nick could hear the distinct sound of Greg's head hitting the heavy glass of the table; the string of curses that followed would have been enough to turn his ears blue, if he wasn't used to hearing that kind of language. Still, he wasn't used to hearing it from Greg.

Was it the lump on the back of his head that was making him curse like that, or the fact that a parrot's long talons were still hooked into his ass? Nick wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but he didn't dare, not with Greg cursing like a sailor.

The bird suddenly let go of Greg, soaring around the room again and coming perilously close to Nick's head. He ducked, covering his head with his arms as the bird sailed by. When he dared to look up again, the bird was back in its cage, watching the two of them placidly.

"That damn bird!" Greg was standing up slowly, rubbing his backside. "I swear it must have drawn blood! Do you think it did? Is my ass bleeding?" He twisted around, trying to look down at the seat of his jeans. "That thing should be reported to animal control."

"Oh, come on, baby," Nick drawled, the humor of the situation bringing a reluctant smile to his lips. "You can't blame the bird for being drawn to such a perfect ass. I'd want to dig my claws in too, if I had them. You know I like to dig my teeth in."

"Oh, stop it," Greg grumbled, still rubbing his ass and looking disgruntled. "Those little love bites are not 'digging your teeth in.' I can barely feel them. That thing dug its claws so deep in my skin that I bet I'll have marks on my ass for the rest of my life."

"We can check it out when we get home tonight," Nick said soothingly, realizing that Greg's feathers were more ruffled than the bird's could ever be. "Your ass isn't bleeding. You'll probably just have a few bruises to show --and a lump on your head. You can tell everybody that you got them in a fight."

"Yeah, tell people that I got my ass kicked by a bird," Greg muttered. He looked over at Nick, scowling. "What do you mean, 'tell everybody'? Nobody's going to see my ass but you. I'm not going around showing my ass off to anybody who wants to see it."

"You'd better not be doing that," Nick mock-growled, sliding an arm around Greg's waist. "Come on, birdman, let's get the hell out of here. I think we've got everything we need -- if you got that sample from under the table. We can come back later if there's anything else."

Greg frowned at Nick's tone; it was obvious that the other man was holding back laughter. "You think this is funny, don't you? It's not funny, Nicky. Those claws hurt! And you'd better not tell anybody what happened. That's between you and me."

"You and me -- and the bird," Nick answered, looking back as he followed Greg to the door. The bird's cage door was firmly closed now, the animal preening itself as though it had never seemed like a vicious attacker swooping down on its unsuspecting prey.

Greg's gaze followed Nick's, his expression darkening as he looked at the bird. "You're lucky you didn't end up as a feather decoration on an ugly hat for an old lady, buddy," he muttered under his breath as he opened the door, slamming it behind him after Nick was outside.

"Come on, Greg, it was kind of funny," Nick told him, finally letting his laughter bubble to the surface. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody what happened. But you'd better believe I'm going to bring this up when we're alone. I won't let you forget it any time soon, birdman."

"I'm sure you won't. And will you stop with that nickname already?" Greg stalked out to the van, getting in and slamming the door. Nick followed, sliding into the driver's side and starting the ignition, still unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Bird is the word, huh, Greg?" he said, glancing over at his boyfriend. "You know that I'm going to say it as often as I can now. Just to see your reaction." He was teasing, of course; he wanted to lighten Greg's mood before they got back to the lab.

"If I never hear that word again, it'll be too soon," Greg muttered, looking out of the window. Nick didn't laugh at that pronouncement, though he wanted to. One thing was for sure, he told himself as he pulled out into traffic. They would not be getting a pet bird any time soon.

***