Title: Breathe
Author: nigaishin
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R
Disclaimers: not mine, or else it'd be called "CSI: the orgy lab from hell" -- yeah, I know, more sleep, less smut.
A/N: Thanks go to redleaf0 for beta'ing, and for being a great muse... these are all for you.
Summary: So terribly clichè, isn't it?

***

Hard and fast. Sometimes, that's how Nick needs it to be. Just so that he can feel alive again, and forget for a couple of blissful moments that the world's a sick place after all.

He's not like Sara. He can't even bring himself to drown all of his sorrow in alcohol, and that's not because he's stronger than that, but rather because he just *can't*, he knows how booze may solve things for a while but make them much worse later, when you're too drunk to shake yourself out of stupor-induced nightmares.

So Nick usually needs to find a way not to drown in sorrow itself.

Pulling a double shift and dealing with more dead kids than he usually likes to will do that to you.

The knot in his throat is growing and he doesn't know whether to throw up, scream his lungs out till his voice is nothing but a whimper, or just cry his eyes sore. He feels like he can't breath, tremors race through his body and his legs are going all wobble and weak. His hands are trembling and he locks them into fists against the stall door. He won't hit it, and he won't dig his nails into the painted surface in a vague attempt to forget everything he saw that night by causing himself pain.

He doesn't know what's worse, the fact that he still has a couple of hours ahead of him before getting the hell out of there, or knowing that that's not the first nor the last time something like that will happen-- the way human beings can hurt each others makes him sick.

Greg knows what happened, of course. Working in the lab probably makes him the person who knows the most about what's going on in each case of them all, except maybe for Grissom.

So when he walks in the men bathroom, which is apparently empty, he doesn't need to ask who's there when he hears a broken whimper coming from one of the stalls.

And he doesn't scream when the door creaks open and a hand grabs his shirt to drag him inside, or when the door is locked behind his back and he's pushed against it, his mouth assaulted and hands are roaming his body, tugging his shirt up to caress his belly and then the small of his back, only to slid into his pants and cup his ass.

Instead, he winds his arms around Nick's broad shoulders and closes his eyes, trying to soothe some of the madness away by raking his fingers through his lover's short hair and drawing circles on the nape of his neck until he feels him loose some of the tension rigging his body so hard it must hurt.

He's pleased when Nick doesn't resist him and allows their positions to be reversed, to be pushed against one side of the stall while Greg gracefully slides down on his knees after grazing the palm of his hand on his cheek and shooting his a loving grin.

What happens next is a whirlwind of grasping fingers pulling his hair and words of encouragement half-mouthed on the tight skin of Nick's hips before his tongue darts out to stroke his lover's erection, and after that all the older man knows is wetness and heat, and the taste of his own blood in his mouth from where he bit down on his lower lips to keep the keening whimper down.

For a couple of blissful minutes his mind is blank except for Greg's smile and Greg's hands and Greg's mouth, and this time it's love that threatens to unwind the bundle of emotions in his throat. He spends himself and allows his lover to tuck him back in while he tries to remember how to breathe-- as Greg said once after an interesting exchange of knowledge and body fluids, it's a damn cool thing that breathing is an automatic process, because if it wasn't, human race probably would have been extincted for a while. He lets out a soft laugh at that, and when Greg starts kissing away the tears on his cheeks he turns his head to bring their lips together.

"I love you so fucking much" he mutters between kisses, and then leans in to rest his head on the younger man's shoulder before enveloping him in a strong hug.

The feeling of Greg hugging back and his mouth curling in a smile against his neck must be one of the best in the world.

So yeah, maybe the world's a sick place to live in, but Greg makes it much brighter for him, so it's not so bad afterall.

***