Title: Which the Days Never Knew
By: Caroline Crane
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Word count: 1360
Summary: In which Greg feels his age.
A/N: In what will come as a shock to absolutely no one, my first 'ficlet' is too long to post in a comment, so I had to give it a title and everything and post it here. I don't doubt there will be more of the same later. This one is for theamusedone. It turned out much differently than I planned, but hey, I wrote something. I'm...kind of rusty at it.

***

The accident comes at the tail end of a long shift; a messy collision between a sleep-deprived third shift worker and a van full of struggling musicians who really aren't more than kids.

Well. They weren't much more than kids. Now they're five fatalities and five phone calls Greg's glad he doesn't have to make. Five funerals and five lives ended way too soon; six if he counts the guy driving the truck, who may or may not make it through the night, according to the paramedics.

Greg's been out in the field long enough to be used to this sort of thing. He hasn't seen as much as Nick or Catherine, maybe, but he's seen his share of misery over the past few years. He's seen all the terrible things people do to each other, by accident or on purpose, and this case is no different.

It's pretty clear from the start that there's no need for them at the scene. They run down the evidence anyway, but in the end it's just an accident. Just an overtired casino employee asleep at the wheel, and it's everybody's bad luck that he happened to doze off at the exact wrong moment.

It sucks, but it's the kind of thing that happens more often than it should, so Greg's not sure why this time is hitting him so hard. He watches the David help the paramedics load the last body on a waiting ambulance, letting out a sigh as it pulls out in the direction of the morgue. Once they're gone he picks up his kit and heads for Nick's Suburban, setting it in the back and closing the door before he turns to watch Nick walking toward him.

"Hey," Nick says when he reaches Greg, his frown making the lines around his mouth stand out a little more. "You ready to head back?"

Greg nods and turns away without speaking, pulling the passenger door open and climbing into the SUV. He stares out the window at the crime scene while Nick stows his kit and slides behind the wheel, watching the tow truck driver manuever the twisted metal of what used to be an F150 onto the back of his rig.

The van's still in the ravine where it ran clear off the road, thanks to an inexperienced driver's attempt to overcorrect when he realized the truck was headed right for them. As soon as Greg thinks it he winces, because it's not like he blames the kid driving the van for getting them all killed. He can't really blame the casino worker either, even if he's legally responsible. It's just one of those things, and the fact that there's no one to blame makes it a little harder to swallow.

Nick starts the engine and Greg reaches for his seat belt, but a hand lands on his arm to stop him before he reaches it. Greg looks over to find Nick watching him, still frowning in that way that reminds Greg just how long they've known each other.

"Everything okay?"

Greg shrugs, then he lets out a sigh and slumps back against the seat. "It just sucks, you know? They were just a bunch of kids."

Nick nods and glances out the windshield, watching the tow truck for a few seconds before he answers. "It was an accident, G. Nothing anybody could have done."

Greg doesn't point out that the guy driving the truck could have stayed awake, or maybe not gotten behind the wheel at all if he was that tired. They both know that's not the way it works, and he doesn't really feel like arguing about whether or not he's taking on some weird survivor's guilt over a bunch of strangers.

"Yeah, I know," he says instead. "I don't even know why it's bothering me so much. I guess because a few years ago I probably would have been at their show the night before they died."

Nick nods again, like that even makes any sense. And maybe he's just humoring Greg, but then again, maybe he gets what Greg's trying to say. The truth is that a few years ago he could have related a lot to those kids, and now he feels more like the guy behind the wheel of the truck.

It's not that he's old, exactly. He's not getting any younger, though, and between his job and his writing and the time he spends with Nick, there's not a whole lot of time left over for things like shows and clubs. Not like when he first moved to Vegas, and it shouldn't bother him so much that he's settled into a routine, but seeing those kids staring up at him with glassy, lifeless eyes just reminded him of what he's missing.

And the stupid thing is he doesn't really miss it at all. He likes their routine, likes his job and he likes going home with Nick and spending the night wrapped in strong, familiar arms instead of passing out alone. The shows and clubs were fun, sure, but what he's got now…he wouldn't trade that for anything.

So maybe the thing that's bothering him is the fact that those kids will never get the chance to find out how great getting older can be. They'll never know what it's like to share a routine with somebody solid and dependable, who loves him more than anything and will always be there, no questions asked.

Greg swallows against the lump in his throat and lets out a shaky laugh, then he glances over at Nick to find him still frowning. "We should get back to the lab before Cath puts out an APB."

Nick doesn't laugh at the dumb joke, and he doesn't make a move to put the car in gear. Instead he reaches out to rest a hand on the side of Greg's neck, just watching him for a second like maybe he can tell what Greg's thinking just by looking at him.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." Greg reaches up to cover Nick's hand with his own, warm and solid and familiar in a way that still makes Greg's heart race, even all these years later. "Yeah, Nick, I'm good."

For a second he thinks maybe Nick's going to call his bluff, but instead he just leans a little closer, ignoring the tow truck driver and the handful of uniforms still milling around the scene long enough to press a soft kiss to Greg's lips. It's over practically as soon as it starts, and Greg's not surprised, because that's the kind of thing they don't do on the job.

Their relationship isn't exactly a secret – keeping secrets is practically impossible when they work with a bunch of trained investigators – but they both agreed right at the beginning that they were going to keep it out of the office. So Nick kissing him right out in the open while they're on the clock is a big deal, and when Nick pulls back and grins at him Greg knows his surprise must show on his face.

A second later Nick lets go of him and slides back behind the wheel, then he shifts into gear, and this time when Greg reaches for his seat belt Nick doesn't try to stop him. Instead he pulls back onto the road, and once they're headed back toward the crime lab he reaches across the seat and catches Greg's hand.

That's something else they don't do a whole lot of; Nick's definitely a physical guy, and he's not afraid to show his affection in private, but holding hands is one of those things that just isn't in his playbook. But his fingers slide through Greg's and hold on, and when Greg glances over at him Nick just grins again and lifts Greg's hand to brush a kiss across his knuckles.

"Are you okay?" Greg asks, because he's starting to wonder if maybe Nick hit his head or something at the crime scene while he wasn't looking.

"Yeah, G," Nick says, and when he smiles this time it makes the lines around his eyes that Greg loves so much even more noticeable. "Couldn't be better."

***