Title: Cliche
By: emmonsail
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R
Warning: WiP
Summary: 'His tongue trailed a hot stripe up the column of his throat...'

***

His tongue trailed a hot stripe up the column of his throat, along his jaw, teasing the skin below his ear, biting down where neck met shoulder, eliciting a small hiss from Nick. He could taste the tang of his sweat on his tongue, salty and hot, the smell of him filled his nostrils.

Greg smiled feraly, pausing to meet Nick's eyes, licking his lips. Nick could barely keep his eyes open and focused on Greg, whose hands were wandering all over Nick's body; across his shoulders, feathering along the inside of his forearms, over his chest, slicked with sweat, slowing to tease a nipple and making Nick groan, rolling his head back against the bed, arching towards Greg.

Seeing he liked that, Greg stopped his wandering hands, resting them on Nick's stomach and lowered his head down to his chest. With the flat of his tongue he licked a long, slow stripe over one nipple, blew cool air over the sensitised skin. He swirled the tip of his tongue round and round before biting down gently, getting another hiss from Nick, constantly writhing underneath Greg, pinned down by his weight.

Greg paused and sat back, staring down at Nick, watching him pant and strain, struggling to open his eyes and see why Greg had stopped.

"Greg –" he began, but broke off as he started up again, rocking his hips against Nick's, grinding him down into the bed. He raked his hands roughly along Nick's chest, feeling the slick, toned muscles, heaving chest; he clenched his hands, nails digging into Nick's skin.

Nick pushed his head back against the bed again, neck arching up, his face a picture of beautiful agony and Greg had to taste again, following a line of sweat, sucking on that spot under his jaw.

But suddenly Greg stopped; stopped his tongue, his hands, his hips as he became aware of another noise in the room: "That was the new song by the Foo Fighters, released Monday, and they'll be in the studio tomorrow answering your questions, so –"

Greg rolled over and smacked down the alarm, sitting up and rubbing the heals of his hands into his eyes, yawning. Damn; time for another long, cold shower.



Greg sat in the locker room, elbows on knees and head in hands, drumming his fingers against his forehead, muttering to himself.

"Get a grip Sanders, control yourself."

This was how he was to be found when he heard the door bang shut and someone walk over. Peering out through his fingers, he sighed when he saw it was only Sara.

"Hey Greg, you okay? You're looking pretty stressed out."

"Yeah, I'm fine" he replied, but seeing her eyebrows shoot up he added "Really, I'm good. It's just sometimes it can get to be such a burden, all this intelligence, personality, good looks", shrugging his shoulders and grinning winsomely up at her, earning a smack on the arm.

"Come on then, Mr. Universe. Grissom's about to hand out the assignments."

"Okay, just give me a sec to grab my jacket."

"Don't be long", she called back as she left the room.

Greg stood and opened his locker, pulling out his jacket and checking his hair in the little mirror glued to the inside of the door. He gave himself a determined look and a short nod of the head and slammed the door shut before heading out into the lab after Sara.



The case had been a simple break-in at a liquor store, so it wasn't too much work to process the scene and collect the surveillance tapes before heading back to the lab. It was a slow night and Greg was up to speed, so he figured he'd grab a bite to eat and kick back before Grissom or Sara found him for something else.

He'd just sat down in the break room and was starting on his sandwich, flicking through some woman's magazine on the table when the door opened and Nick walked in, smiling that smile at Greg and going over to the fridge.

"Hey Greggo, what's up?"

"Not much, just taking a break. You?" he replied, trying to keep up a polite conversation when definitely not staring at Nick's excellent ass as he was bent down, rummaging through the fridge.

"Man, I think someone's eaten my sandwich. I was looking forward to that all morning. Turkey stuffing."

Nick slammed the door shut and stood up, giving himself cute little frown lines and was that a pout? Whatever it was, it passed quickly and Nick dropped into the chair opposite Greg, arms folded across his chest.

"Here, you can split mine if you want", he offered, trying to seem nonchalant, pushing the generous slice across to him
.
"Thanks G, you're a life saver." Nick picked it up and took a generous bite, humming around his mouthful.

Greg took a gulp of his coffee, quickly spitting it back out into the cup as it burnt his mouth. Smooth Sanders, real smooth. Had it come to this, getting off on watching Nick eat a chicken salad sandwich? Looks like it. But how could he not, he thought, watching Nick's tongue flick out and lick up a drop of dressing at the corner of his mouth, the way his throat worked up and down when he swallowed down the mouthful and that tongue again, sliding out to lick his lips.

Greg shook his head and looked down at the magazine on the table, anything to distract him from Nick. He flipped through the pages, not reading or paying much attention to them other than as something to occupy his mind. The fingers of one hand drummed on the table continuously, fast and loud, the only other noise in the room apart from the swish of each hastily turned page and the rasp of his trousers as he bounced his leg repeatedly.

"Greg...? Greg!"

"Sorry, what?"

"Could you stop fidgeting? You're rocking the table" he said, eyebrows raised. "What's up with you anyway? You been drinking too much of that coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee. That must be it" he replied with a weak laugh and a small smile, eyes sliding from Nick to the magazine to the door, his fingers picking at the edge of the table.

"Listen, I've just remembered some paperwork I need to get finished, I'll see you around" Greg blurted out hurriedly, already half way to the door.

"Uh, okay. See you later then", Nick replied to the back of the closing door.

What was all that about, he wondered. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled over the magazine.



"Fuck. Fuck! What he hell is wrong with me?" Greg muttered to himself quietly, thumping his thigh on each curse as he sat in a cramped toilet cubicle, somewhere he thought he could be alone to berate himself. He thought wrong.

"Greg, are you in here?"

"Sara? Do you realise you're in the men's toilet?"

"How could I not, the smell in here. I swear all men are pigs."

"Well, do you mind?"

"No, not really. I wanted to talk to you. Why don't you come out?"

"No."

"Come on Greg, don't make me come in there and get you."

"If you have something to say, you can say it from out there."

"Okay then, have it your way. I'm worried about you; you seem all over the place, well, more so than usual. I was just wondering whether anything was wrong, if you wanted to talk."

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Well, you're sitting in a toilet cubicle for one and you seemed a bit off in the locker room earlier. And Nick said you were acting weird in the break room."

"Nick?" There was a crash from inside the stall. "What was Nick saying about me?"

"Nothing really, just that you were acting strangely, he didn't give me a blow-by-blow. What do you care what Nick was saying?"

"I don't."

"Come on Greg, don't give me that. What's Nick got to do with this?"

"Nothing" he said petulantly. A pause. "It's just..." Greg trailed off and he could see her feet, stood by the door expectantly.

"Just what?" she prompted.

"I've been having these dreams."

"Dreams? What- oh. Oh!"

"No, no. It's nothing like that, I don't like him or anything" He replied hurriedly. "It's just that it makes things a little awkward sometimes." There was silence from Sara's side of the door and Greg sat on the edge of the toilet, waiting for a response.

"You know, Freud said that dreams are the 'royal road to our unconscious'. Some psychologists believe our dreams represent unconscious conflicts and desires. Maybe this is your minds way of telling you something or bringing to your attention some issues you've obviously not been dealing with. Listen to me, I sound like Grissom. We should get back before he comes looking, but think about it, okay?"

Greg sat listening to her retreating footsteps in silence, the door finally banging shut, indeed thinking about what she'd said.

Of course, she was right. He'd liked Nick since God knows when, how could he not? But he couldn't fall for a co-worker; there were rules against that sort of thing. But he especially couldn't fall for one like Nick. Straight-laced, nice guy, Texan Nick. A little subtle flirting here and there was okay, but just because he flirted back, that didn't mean Nick was gay, there was just no way. If he was, he was so far in the closet he was in fucking Narnia and would need Mr. Tumnus to kick him out.

But hang on, what did she mean 'obviously'? He thought he'd been pretty good at keeping it under wraps, but if Sara had guessed, did that mean others had too? Holy hell, what if Nick knew? But he would have said something or started acting differently wouldn't he?

Greg finally stood up and banged his head on the door a few times, eyes screwed shut. This was all getting too much; too many thoughts. Resting his throbbing forehead against the door for a minute, he opened it and walked over to the sinks to check his hair before following Sara out into the lab.

Man, wouldn't it be the biggest cliché in the world if Nick had been in one of the other stalls listening to their whole conversation?

Greg stopped suddenly in the corridor, a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind. This is stupid Sanders, this isn't a soap opera. But just a quick check won't do any harm. He turned back and stuck his head around the door.

"Oh my God."

***

Oh my God. There was Nick, bent down over a basin washing his hands, frown creasing his forehead, looking perplexed and Greg couldn't deny it, troubled.

But at Greg's words he looked up startled, eyes widening and a flush rising up his cheeks. He stood, dripping hands held out before him in what Greg thought looked like some perverse gesture of supplication.

The only sounds were the bang as the door shut, echoing off the cold tiles and the rush of the tap, but that ceased quickly, leaving them in complete silence, staring at each other.

"Nick..."

As if Greg's speaking had broken the trance, Nick suddenly turned to the hand drier and punched the button, drowning out Greg's voice.

Greg bit his lip, stood wringing his hands, fiddling with his cuff as he started at Nick's back.

What was this, some kind of karmic joke? He'd never really meant to tell him, let alone like this. Finally the drier stopped, but Nick remained by it, back turned to Greg.

"Is it true?"

"It's only a dream, it doesn't mean anything. I dream about running down the Strip naked sometimes, but that doesn't mean I actually want to do it. I mean-"

"Greg." Nick cut off Greg's rambling, voice quiet.

"Sorry." What the hell was he supposed to say? What did Nick expect to hear, what did he want to hear? "I'm sorry."

"Sorry it happened, or sorry you got found out?"

"Sorry it happened? Nothing's happened Nick, it was just a dream, nothing more. We never actually had sex, unless there's something you're not telling me." It was a weak attempt at humour; he was trying to deflect and seem confident, but inside he was withering away at the look on Nick's face.

He just stood there, arms folded across his chest, frowning. He looked like he was searching for something to say, something to make this right like he always had to. Greg had imagined telling Nick and that he would be overjoyed and admit his secret undying love for Greg too and they would live happily ever after, but the reality was not quite so sweet. Nick had never seemed further away from him.

"You know what? I don't need to stand here and defend myself to you. It happened, you found out, that's that. Now I guess I'd better leave you to go round up the lynch mob; I'll be around when you're ready." Greg turned to go, ready to make his dramatic exit, so angry at Nick, so angry at himself.

"Hey, hold on a minute." Nick grabbed his arm hard, forcing Greg to turn and face him. "Don't go making assumptions about me based on what you think you know."

Nick was close; Greg was almost pulled up against him. If he moved a little closer he could press himself up against that toned body like he'd always imagined, kiss him. He could feel Nicks breath hot against his face, his pupils were dilated, but with anger, not lust.

Greg strained himself against Nick's grip, trying to shaking himself free; Nick released his hand. "So, what, you're not some frat boy, ladies man, Texan homophobe? You're really gayer than the day is long and madly in love with me, just waiting for the chance to sweep me off my feet?" At every word his anger grew and he ranted on, accusing him, because it was all he could think to do other than run back into that cubicle and cry.

They stood like that, close enough to touch, Greg breathing hard with his anger, fully expecting some retaliation, some anger from Nick.

There was a tightening around his eyes and he stepped back, face unreadable. He shook his head slightly, opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped. Nick stepped around Greg and left, door banging shut behind him, leaving Greg standing alone in the middle of the room.



"Nick, wait!"

Greg burst through the doors out into the car park, running to catch up with Nick, but he seemed to be doing his best to ignore Greg and get to his truck before he could catch up.

"Dammit Nick, would you please wait?"

"For what Greg, for what? Have you thought of something else to accuse me off?"

"Nick, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things; I shouldn't have acted like that. You didn't deserve it. Look, can we go somewhere and talk about this properly?"

Greg stared at Nick, biting his lip nervously. What if he said no? What if he never wants to see me again? It can't end like this between us. It suddenly occurred to Greg that he could not only loose all chance of having anything more with Nick, but that he could loose what he did have with him. He could loose Nick's friendship, and he never realised that had meant so much to him.

"Yeah, okay." Greg sighed in relief, smiling. "But not now, I'm about to head out to a scene. We can go somewhere after shift."

Greg nodded and Nick carried on walking to his truck. All the time he kept his eyes on the ground and his step seemed to be heavier.



Nick threw his kit in the trunk and climbed into the drivers' seat. He paused, hands gripping the steering wheel. He was reeling; he couldn't get his head around what had happened. And it had happened, hadn't it? But he just had to feel his racing heart and clammy palms to know that it had.

Greg? He just couldn't believe it, couldn't accept it. His cell phone suddenly started ringing loudly, jerking Nick out of his stunned reverie.

"Stokes."

"Where are you man? I've been waiting."

"Shit. Sorry 'Rick, I'll be right there. I...got held up at the lab."

"Okay. Just get here as soon as you can."

He snapped his phone shut and slipped it back into his pocket. He took a deep breath and scrubbed at his face, running a hand over his head. I can't deal with this now; think about it later. Yeah, later when I'm meeting Greg so we can talk about it. Oh shit.



"Hey Nick, what's up with you? Are you alright?"

Nick startled at Warrick's voice, he hadn't noticed him come over. He'd been standing, camera in hand, staring off into space and thinking about Greg. About the looming end of shift.

"Nick?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. I'm good, I was just thinking. About the case."

"Anything you wanna share?" Warrick was frowning at him like he'd just sprouted horns. He really needed to get himself together.

"No, no. It was just a theory. But it couldn't work, don't worry about it."

"Okay." Warrick didn't look convinced in the least. He stood staring at Nick for a moment before heading back out of the room.



The rain fell steadily, pattering against the window next to Nick and Greg's booth in the small all-night diner Greg had brought them to.

The sun was just up, shining weakly through the rain, but already the city was awake. Cars rushed down the road, people hurried along the pavement, umbrellas and hoods up. Did Las Vegas ever even sleep? After all this time that still amazed Greg about this city. It never seemed to rest, was never quiet.

In another of their frequent and heavy pauses in conversation, Greg had taken to staring out of the window while Nick pushed food around his plate. You could hardly even call it conversation, just inane pleasantries and observations. Oh look, it's raining.

Neither one of them wanted to start that conversation, bring up what they were really here for. Say something Greg, say something. I'm the one who asked him here, who created this mess.

"Look, Nick..."

Nick looked up from his plate. He seemed nervous, scared somehow of what Greg might say. He froze up. Smiling sardonically at Nick, he said in a small voice: "I didn't think it would be this difficult. I guess it should have been pretty obvious."

Nick gave him a small, tenuous smile back.

"You're telling me." He sighed. "Greg, I don't want it to be like this between us, so maybe we should just lay this all out, hash it out now."

"Okay. I don't really know what to say." Greg took a deep breath, steeling himself, staring a hole in the table top. "Okay. I, well, uh...I kind of have a crush of you. I mean had; I had a crush on you" He rushed out the words quickly, blushing fiercely. He glanced up at Nick, briefly meeting his eyes. They were wide, shocked and he was blushing too.

"I, uh..." Nick coughed, picked up his fork again. It was one thing to overhear it in the bathroom, but to have Greg say it like that so bluntly, face to face. His mind went blank, and suddenly he wasn't so sure he did want to talk about this. Maybe it would be best if they acted like nothing had happened.

"Look, Greg. I'm not...I mean, I'm really flattered, but...I don't, I'm not –"

"You don't need to say anything Nick, I knew you weren't gay, that's why I didn't say anything. I never meant for you to find out. I didn't want it to change things between us, like it has now."

"Do things have to change? I don't plan on not being your friend any more because of this." Greg looked up at Nick, who smiled hopefully, a little desperately at him.

"Yeah, okay. I guess we can get past this" he said hesitantly, but he wondered. How could this not change their friendship? It would always be hanging over them. Every time Nick looks at me, will he be wondering if I'm attracted to him? They'd both have to live with the knowledge of what he'd said.

Nick stood and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, shrugging it on and pulling up the collar against the rain.

"I'm going to head home, I'm beat. I'm glad we talked about this. See you tomorrow G." And he was gone. Greg sat for a while longer staring at the rain and thinking about Nick, about this mess of a situation.

Talked? They didn't talk about anything, just agreed that they would try to ignore it all. How could Nick be so naïve? Maybe he thinks if he wishes for something hard enough, it'll come true. He can ignore this as much as he wants and pretend like it never happened, but things are different now and they can never be the same.

How could his life have changed so much for the worse in one day?

Greg left the diner, the rain falling harder as he stepped out. Wallowing in his pessimism and melancholy thoughts, he went home.

***

Nick rolled over and punched his pillow a few times, trying to find a comfortable spot so he could get some sleep, which had been evading him for the last hour or so. All he could think was how crazy today had been. He'd woken up and everything had been great, but now look at him, tossing and turning when he should be sleeping soundly.

Greg. Damn him for ever saying anything. If he really hadn't meant for anyone to find out, what the hell was he doing spilling everything to Sara? If he had just kept his mouth shut, they wouldn't be in this mess.

All day his mind had kept drifting back to their confrontation in the bathroom. At work he'd had other things to occupy his mind, but now lying in his bed in silence, he just kept going over and over it.

He'd never seen Greg like that, so defensive and angry. He could still see Greg's face, so close to his own, panting with his anger, his breath hot against his cheek. He had almost felt the heat radiating off him, searing the hand curled around his arm; felt how tense the muscles were, flexing against him, trying to break loose.

For a minute they'd been so close. When he'd pulled Greg back they had almost collided, almost pressed together. When he had grabbed him, he was so sure Greg would punch him. Or -.

"Shit."

Nick sat up, kicking the tangled sheets away. Dammit, why did Greg have to say anything? Why did I agree to meet up with him? Who needs to talk? Things like that are better left untouched. Ignored. Whatever.

Nick got up and headed to the kitchen, flipping on the lights as he went. Turning on the tap, he let it run while he grabbed a glass. His thoughts drifted back to Greg again. He was probably in bed now, fast asleep. I wonder if he snores. Probably not, maybe breathes heavily.

Maybe he's dreaming about me. About us, together. Nick couldn't help imagining it, wondering about it. He wasn't totally innocent; he knew some of the stuff that went on.
He stood at the sink, glass to lips, staring out the window.

Fuck, what am I doing? I'm not gay, I'm not attracted to men, of course I'm not. I never have been and I never will be. I'd never have thought about it at all if Greg hadn't mentioned it. Not in a million years. It's just that once it's been said, you can't help but think about it. Nothing more.

Leaving his glass in the sink, Nick went into the living room and flopped down on the sofa. Turning on the television, he flipped through the channels until he found a random sports documentary.

I just need something to take my mind off it. Give it a while and it'll be like it was never mentioned.



Greg lay curled up on his side, blankets pulled up over his face, creating a snug little cocoon in his bed. The late evening sunshine shone in through a crack in his curtains, painting the wall watery shades of orange and pink.

Maybe if I just lie here and go back to sleep, everything bad will go away and it'll be like it never happened. If I don't get up, then I don't have to go into work and then I won't have to face him.

Man, what was I thinking? Why didn't I just deny everything and pretend it was all a big joke? Maybe I'm actually dreaming all this. I'll wake up in a few hours and everything will be like it always was. Fuck, who am I kidding? Now I sound like Nick. I must be the biggest idiot ever born. Someone up there definitely hates me.

Greg sighed deeply and sat up, running a hand through his bed hair. Going into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and took a leak while the water heated up, yawning and scratching and stretching his arms up above his head.

When the water was steaming, he got in and stood, hands braced against the tiles, under the spray. Water sheeted down his back and ran in rivulets down his face, beading on his lips. The heat soothed and calmed him, but it couldn't drive away thoughts of the coming day. Various scenarios ran through his mind, all with varying degrees of awkwardness and tension.

Greg sighed and turned his face up into the spray, eyes squeezed shut. There was nothing to do but face it, he'd have to sooner or later. He'd just have to hope no-one else picked up on anything, because this would be a bitch to explain. Well, Sara would know, but there was no helping that, and he was the one who had told her. But Grissom, he always seemed to see everything. But then he wasn't that good with personal situations, look at him and Sara. Maybe he wouldn't notice, not unless it affected their work, which he was determined it wouldn't.

Greg sighed again. And so the day begins.

***