Title: Taking Care

By: Cathleen18

Pairing: Nick/Greg pre-slash

Rating: PG

A/N: This is a pre-slash fic. Blame my cousin for this idea.

Summary: Nick takes care of Greg.

 

***

 

You get home from a long, difficult shift, expecting him to be there waiting for you. But it doesn't surprise you when he isn't. It's not as if he lives there and it's not as if you're joined at the hip.

You place the mail, which you know will consist of a 500-dollar phone bill, on the table by the phone. You press 'play' on the answer machine and smile at the voice that flutters through. That happy smile turns to worry though when you hear the change in the voice from its normal tone.

"Hey you," he starts, "Bet you were ex-expecting me-to be there-waiting," his words are starting to slur now. Your brow creases into a frown. "As you can-can tell-I'm not!" His laugh makes your blood run cold through your body. You're glad you didn't take your jacket off. "I ju-just need some time a-apart for a while. The last case-just put a f-few things in-to perspective for me. I'm-gonna ask Gris-som for some time off. May-be go h-ome for a while." His voice is breaking and you can tell he's crying now. You are crying too; drawing in short, sharp breaths and shaking uncontrollably. "I'll p-phone you when I get back. I-love-you."

The phone is hung up on the other end and the answer machine beeps to signal the end of the message, but you don't hear the beep as you're out of the front door before it can be heard. You know it's a long shot but you have to check, you have to check that he's not hiding out in his apartment.

When you get there, you relentlessly search for the key he gave you the week before. You don't need to search, however, because as soon as you've got the key by the lock, the door opens and you see a bloodshot-eyed Greg staring at you.

"What do you want?" he asks you, not moving to the side as he used to do so you could come in. No, you're going to have this conversation right here in the doorway.

"What the hell was that message all about?" you manage to choke out. The tears are still falling; they have been since you left the house, and you're in no condition to stop them. Greg shrugs in response. Your patience is starting to wear thin so you're not in the mood for his meaningless answers and gestures, so you barge past him into his apartment and freeze when you see how bare and empty the place is. "G, what's going on?" you ask, although it's pretty obvious. "I thought you said for a while." Greg shrugs again and you feel the anger boil even closer to the surface. "Dammit G, speak to me for crying out loud." You're shouting now, but you don't care. And he doesn't seem to notice because he doesn't flinch nor does the expression on his face change in the slightest.

When he still doesn't utter a single word, you go over to him and shake him by the shoulders, rough enough to show him you mean business, but not enough that he'd hit you. He does push you away though. You watch as he continues filling up boxes with CDs, DVDs, vinyl's that you bought him for Christmas the year before.

You head towards the door, patience so thin now that you don't think you can look at Greg without hitting him in the jaw…hard. You stop in your tracks though when you hear a whimper from behind you. You turn to see him staring at a teddy bear you got him for Valentine's Day. He runs his fingers through the thick fur on its stomach and you reach out to him when a tear rolls down his cheek. You don't expect it, but when he falls into your open arms, you cling to him tightly, not realising how much it scared you to see his almost-empty apartment.

After managing to locate a glass, you fill a cup of water for Greg and hand it to him before sitting against the wall as far away from him as you can. You're pretty pissed off with him now, after all, and despite the fact that he's just been bawling in your arms for a good hour, you don't think you can forgive him for what he's eventually going to do; run.

Greg finally manages to mutter, "I'm sorry," but you merely snort in disbelief.

"No, you're not. If I hadn't have come here, you would have finished packing up and left Vegas. And knowing how stubborn you are, you probably still will." You stand up now and start pacing, anger finally winning the fight. "When were you gonna tell me, huh? Were you gonna write a stupid letter telling me how much you loved me and how much it wasn't my fault that you left? Were you gonna let Grissom tell me? Or were you just gonna drop of the face of the Earth?"

You immediately feel guilty when you see tears well up in Greg's eyes and his bottom lip start to tremble, but you don't run to his side and you don't apologise profusely for upsetting him. Why should you when he's going to do the same thing to you in a few hours?

"I-I was gonna come in-next shift and tell every-one," he chokes out. You drop your head, not being able to bear looking at Greg's sad face anymore.

"Why Greg? Why?" you ask fiercely. This time he does flinch at your tone, so you go over to him and sit next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders. He leans into the comfort and you rest your head on top of his. "What's brought all this on?" You kiss the top of his head and nervously await a response.

"The case Grissom put me on. It involved a teenage boy who was killed because people at school - the wrong people at school - found out he was gay. His boyfriend, Jamie, said Kyle was scared that his parents would find out and disown him. It all hit a little too close to him for me."

You kiss the top of his forehead again. You can relate to this case and can see why it's hurting Greg so much. You're worried your own parents will find out and disown you. You're worried that everyone at work will find out and start to act differently around you. You're worried that Grissom will think it'll affect your work and move you to a different shift.

You tighten your hold on Greg who shifts slightly to get comfier.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, although you have no idea why. Greg sits up and looks at his hands. The atmosphere in the room has just gotten surprisingly awkward.

"And I can't be in a relationship if it's going to be in secret anymore. It's killing me."

"G, you know I can't tell my parents; they would disown me. They're pretty old-fashioned when it comes to stuff like this. They expect me to find a nice girl and settle down with her." When you spot his downcast look, you add, "And I don't want that. I want you."

He looks back up at you and you smile a little, just to get rid of some of the discomfort between you two. It doesn't work though because when he stands up, he says, "And that's why this is so hard."

"So you're still going?" you ask, afraid of the answer before it's even said.

"Yes."

You shake your head and stand up. You walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not giving up on us. You can walk away from this…but I'm not." You kiss the side of his head and turn to leave, "You know, I've stuck by you through everything, but I'm not sticking by you for this."

You leave the apartment and walk back to your Denali. When you get inside, everything comes crashing down on you and you sob relentlessly until you can see through all the tears. Have you just broken up? Yes, you have. Are you going to give up though? No, you're not.

So after next shift, when Greg announced that he was leaving and taking vacation time in instead of working out his notice, you pack up a bag and follow him to California. Greg stood in his shower, absentmindedly rubbing hard at his skin to get rid of the smell and feel of the decomp case Grissom had forced him to solve. The case was going so well too. The tip Sara had given him as he was walking about of the break room to go get ready ("Smile - it represses the gag reflex") had been working. Brass hadn't made jokes about his appearance or the fact that he was left to solve this one on his own. But it was too good to be true.

He was following the coroner out of the house when he slipped on the sludge dripping from the bag they haven't shut very well. Greg knew he should have been mad, but he wasn't. At the time, it was exceedingly funny, so he joined in with the officers and Brass who were all laughing at his expense.

But now, he could feel it crawling under his skin, so he scratched at his arms and legs with his nails, hoping to rid himself of the stench of imminent death.

"Sanders slipped on the scene…" Nick heard as he was passing Brass talking to Grissom. He stopped and turned to Brass.

"Wasn't he working the decomp case?" Nick asked, not bothered that he was interrupting a conversation. He never cared when Grissom or Brass interrupted his conversations.

"Yeah he was. Kid joined in with the laughter, but you could tell he was scared out of his skin. I told him to go home early, get showered off and rest for the day. Said I'd talk to Grissom for him," Brass explained.

"Griss…?" Nick said, looking at Grissom pointedly.

"Go ahead Nick. It's a slow night."

Nick bade them good night (or morning in his case) and strolled out of the building.

He got into Greg's apartment relatively easily. One drunken night, Greg had slipped out that he hid a spare key in the lamp right next to his door. Nick had always remembered that piece of information for some reason.

Nick noted the strong scent of lemon in the air and trail of clothes to the bathroom. He followed them, having never been in Greg's apartment before till he hit the right doorway. He pushed the brown door open and was shocked at how cold the room was.

He heard sobs over the pounding of the water and grabbed a towel. He put it over his shoulder and announced his presence before scaring Greg even more than he already was.

"Greg, its Nick." Greg didn't answer him, but the sniffling stopped. "I'm coming to the shower now, okay?" More quiet, but at least Greg wasn't protesting furiously at him.

Nick slid the glass door open and stepped in. He was still fully clothed, but he didn't care. Greg was his worry at the moment, not himself. He gasped at the force of the cold water on his skin and quickly turned the water off. He wrapped the towel around Greg's blue-tinged body and pulled him out of the shower and bathroom.

"What are you doing here?" Greg asked finally through chattering teeth. Nick led him to the only other door in the hallway and pushed open the door with his back.

"I came to see how you were. Brass told me about the case," Nick replied, walking to a chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He held them out to Greg who took them with shaking hands. When Greg was dressed, he crawled into bed and Nick took a seat on the edge.

"I'm fine. I could just still smell and feel it on my skin." Greg's eyes started to close and breathing even out.

Nick leant down and kissed Greg's forehead. He nuzzled his neck and sniffed. "You smell fine to me, G." Greg chuckled sleepily. "Shhh. You get some rest."

When Nick stood to leave the room, Greg's eyes fluttered open. "Stay."

Nick turned and smiled before taking his shoes off and climbing into the opposite side of Greg's bed. "Always."

Greg put his back to Nick's chest and threaded his fingers through the hand that Nick had put around Greg's waist to hold him. "Thank you."

" 'welcome," Nick replied quietly, before kissing Greg's neck and falling asleep.