Title: Craving
By: kennedy
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: Greg is wanting something he is not sure he should have...

***

It had been a bad day in the lab for Greg Sanders.

Perhaps not as bad as the day he had been blown through a plate glass window due to an explosion - yeah, that day had pretty much sucked - but it was ranking up there as one of the worst.

Grissom had finally caught onto the fact that he was hiding his inability to recover from the explosion as quickly as he had seemed to, through his hands shaking while he tried to run some tests. His ability to do his job had been questioned, although Grissom had asked it kindly. The mixture of concern for both his employee and the integrity of the lab had almost done Greg's head in, as Grissom had assured him that one day the shaking would end; then left him to sit at his desk with his shaking hands hidden beneath his shirt in an effort to still them. The scars on his back had also begun to throb slightly, as if in psychic empathy.

So he found himself out in the parking-lot, sitting on the concrete with his back against the wall to steady him, a pilfered cigarette from one of the other techs at the ready between his fingers. He didn't smoke, but as most non-smokers did in a time of crisis he felt the strange - almost idiotic - craving. He could also feel unbidden tears sting his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. It was best to let the cigarette win, and deaden his senses.

He fumbled with the lighter, but his hands betrayed him and it fell to the ground. He cursed and scooped it back up. Cigarette in his lips, he tried to bring his hands up to it with the lit flame, but they were fumbling so much he almost singed his eyebrows.

"G, what the hell are you doing?"

He knew the voice before he even saw the face. It was a voice he knew every note, every timbre, of. Greg looked up to see Nick Stokes hovering over him, yet another person looking at him with concern. Just great. And more than anything, he hated that it was Nick who was seeing him in this state.

"What does it look like?" Greg said, a trifle more defensive than he felt. "Welcome to Marlboro country."

Nick grimaced, and hoisted his backpack over his shoulder again, from where it had slipped. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't."

"Then why---"

"Just one of those days." Greg tried to light again, without success.

Nick saw the shaking hands, and his brow creased even more. He then saw Greg looking at him angrily.

"Greggo---" he said, with a great deal of sympathy and pain in his voice.

"Don't say anything." Greg said firmly. "I don't want to hear it."

"I didn't know---" Nick felt useless, and sounded it.

"Hey!" Greg snapped. "What did I just say?"

Nick put both his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Okay, man!"

He then reached down, and pulled the cigarette out of Greg's mouth, and just as quickly the lighter out of his hand. Greg would have jumped back from the electric charge he felt when Nick's hands touched his own, but he was seated and a wall against his back would have made it impossible. Not to mention painful. "What the hell---"

He watched with puzzlement as Nick put the cigarette filter in his own mouth, casually cupping his hands against the wind and lighting it in one quick movement. He then handed it back down to Greg.

Greg took it, once more feeling the brush of Nick's touch.

"I really shouldn't be encouraging you." Nick said with a shrug. "But, hey, you don't want to hear it..."

Little did Nick know, that if he had asked him to, Greg would have not even lit the cigarette. "T-thanks." he stammered out, weakly.

Once more, Nick grimaced. "Don't thank me. It's your lungs." He turned to leave, then turned back. "G, you're my friend, right?"

The burning cigarette still in his fingers, Greg nodded.

"Then I'll just say this to you, if I was in this kind of trouble... I would hope you would let me reach out to you for support."

"You could." Greg said quickly.

"Yeah, well, friendship is reciprocal." Nick looked at his watch, and sighed. "I have to get into the meeting or else Grissom will kick my ass. Do you want to get something to eat after shift?"

Greg nodded, his brows furrowed slightly.

Nick gave his famous dimpled grin, although the words were tinged with sorrow. "Jesus, Greggo... what am I going to do with you?"

Greg watched him leave, biting his tongue. Even though he didn't want it anymore he brought the cigarette to his mouth, like a teenager thinking about how it had been touching Nick's lips before his own.

That it was the closest thing they had to a kiss.

The smell of the burning paper and chemicals hit his nose, and he instantly stubbed it out in disgust. In the distance, he watched Nick enter the building and thought about the offer of dinner later.

His hands felt strangely more substantial and steady as his mind was occupied with thoughts of other things he wanted but wasn't sure he could ever get.

***