Title: Contemplation
By: quettaser
Rating: PG/PG-13...maybe
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Summary: Greg's never liked sweating.

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Greg's never liked sweating. Hair limp, body tired, brain fried, and he normally has much more energy. Sticky and slick and damp, and if he was going to feel disgusting, he'd like someone to be there with him. And he certainly wouldn't want to be wearing clothes. Which is probably why he's so grumpy now, alone in bed in a t-shirt and boxers and he can't stop sweating, the air thick and cruel and he can't get cool again.

Of course the air conditioner had to break just in time for the heat wave, and under any other circumstances, he'd be at the window, watching Nick install their new one and appreciating the view. As much as he hates to sweat, he likes watching Nick sweat.

He can imagine it now, though, thin gray t-shirt now delightfully transparent clinging to strong back muscles, tool belt slung low over his hips, sweat sliding down his arms as he struggles to reach the far side of the air conditioner without changing his position. Slick golden skin sliding over hard muscle as the sun beats down its late afternoon rays.

The thought's enough to send a shiver down his spine, make him shift against the damp sheets. It's a passing chill though, and it's still oppressively hot, and he can't bring himself to get up. He thinks about rolling over and out of the bed and crawling his way along the floorboards to the bathroom. Certainly the tiles would be cooler and then he could always take a shower, although he's getting tired of feeling wet.

Then Nick's coming in the backdoor, clomping into the bedroom in his work boots and he'd be glad that the air conditioner's going to be on in a minute, but Nick looks so damn happy and he feels so miserable, that he wants nothing more than to wipe the smirk from his face.

"Greg, man, what are you doing still in bed?" Nick has the nerve to ask while he goes to plug in the air conditioner.

"Trying not liquefy," he mumbles. His boxers are soaked through and he feels like he's never going to dry out again.

Nick's laughing at him now and if he had the energy, he'd come up with some terribly witty remark to get him to stop. But it doesn't matter because the air conditioner's humming and he never thought he'd miss a sound so much in his life. And he can't actually tell the difference, can't feel the cool air beginning to cycle through the room, but just the idea of it is good enough for him.

"Come'ere," says Nick, extending a hand and pulling Greg up until he's sitting in the bed. "Get your cute ass in the bathroom."

Greg can't help but roll his eyes, because Nick knows exactly how grumpy being sweaty makes him. But he can't deny how good it feels to have Nick touching him, and all that sweaty skin is making him think of other things they could be doing. Really, the only things where he doesn't mind being sweaty and those ideas aren't doing anything to help him cool down. He doesn't try to stop the smirk that reaches his lips.

Nick just sighs and pulls Greg up further, until he's finally out of the bed and standing. "We'll cool off in the shower and make out and watch TV until shift starts."

Greg can't help but lean in for a kiss, his brain finally functional enough for him to appreciate the sweaty man in front of him, soaked t-shirt, tool belt and all. Nick's mouth just opens for him and he tastes like sweat, salty with a hint of something purely Nick, and he really doesn't care about being sweaty at the moment.

"Nothing cooling about what we end up doing in the shower," he says softly against Nick's skin, leaving his lips to chase a drop of sweat down his neck.

Nick pushes him away with a chuckle, telling him, "Shower."

Greg makes his way to the bathroom, feeling his skin prickle as the room turns cooler, the air conditioner working masterfully. He hears the sound of Nick's tool belt dropping to the floor behind him, and he can't help but start to think about changing his mind about that whole sweating thing.


fin.

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