Title :: Devotion
Author :: kissingchaos9
Fandom :: CSI: Vegas
Rating :: PG.
Pairing :: Nick/Greg
A/N :: This is a CSI AU set in San Francisco. Immeasurable thanks to beingothrwrldly and _mausi for the betaing and help and squeeage and love and cuddles and good times. Born of one of the many fantastic Nick Stokes Email Sessions with crimsonclad, and lovingly dedicated to all three.

***

Nick Stokes pulled his ball cap down further and checked his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. The only thing he dreaded more than faculty meetings was...actually, there was nothing he dreaded more than faculty meetings. And it's not that he didn't like his fellow teachers or anything, it's just that every year it was the exact same thing. People complained, the principal ignored them, the rules got more illogical, and essentially everything stayed the same. It was boring and pointless, and he'd much rather be going over his playbook, or viewing tapes of last year's games. Something productive, at least.

Nick sunk lower in his seat when Principal Mathers finally walked to the front of the room and cleared her throat.

"If I could have everybody's attention, we'll start this meeting."

The murmurs quickly quieted, and after a second of silence Principal Mathers began the meeting like always. Announcements, school board changes, curriculum changes, etc. Nick felt his attention wandering several times, but when the door opened quietly and a lanky young man in a track jacket and jeans entered, Nick's attention was directly on him. He looked a little too old to be a student. Teaching assistant, perhaps? Although usually the TAs dressed up for their first meeting, and it didn't look like this kid even combed his hair, and Nick was pretty sure the logo on his t-shirt was for some band none of his fellow staff members had ever heard of. Nick watched as he made his way quietly to the empty seat right beside Principal Mathers, trying not to stare at the pale expanse of skin above his jeans, visible as he leaned forward in his seat.

Nick shook his head quickly, clearing his mind. Principal Mathers was speaking to him, now, and if Nick wanted to know who he was, he was going to have to pay attention.

"Ahh, Greg. I thought your flight didn't get in until tomorrow morning."

The young man smiled and waved a hand dismissively. "I caught an earlier flight, since the seminar officially ended this morning. I didn't want to miss the first faculty meeting."

Nick felt his stomach tighten as Greg looked around the room, smiling at every one.

"As most of you know, Kathy Collins decided not to return to work after the birth of her son this summer, so we've had to hire a new Chemistry teacher. This is Greg Sanders."

Principal Mathers gestured for Greg to stand up, and as he did he gave the room a shy little wave. "Greg just completed his graduate studies at Stanford, and this will be his first year teaching. I expect you all to make him feel welcome."

Nick smiled to himself as Greg blushed slightly, trying not to watch him as he sat back down.

They each took turns introducing themselves, and when Nick's turn came he sat up in his seat and lifted the bill of his cap slightly.

"Hi. I'm Nick Stokes, head football coach. I also teach PE and Health." Nick gave a little wave, but as Jerry started to introduce himself Nick couldn't help but notice that Greg's gaze lingered on him a little longer than anyone else.

After the introductions were complete, Principal Mathers closed her binder. "I think that just about wraps it up. We only have three weeks until the school year begins, so we'll probably have another small meeting in a few weeks. Oh, and one more thing. Since Mrs. Collins was the faculty advisor for the Gay-Straight Alliance, we'll need someone new to volunteer. Any takers?"

Everyone looked around the table, but no one raised their hand or spoke up. Nick noticed Greg watching all of them curiously before raising his own hand.

"I'd be happy to do it, if no one else is interested."

"Great, Greg. Thank you very much, it's nice to see some initiative from the new recruit. Follow me to my office and I'll show you all the resources that Mrs. Collins left." Principal Mathers left the room with Greg following closely behind, and everyone filed out after them, whispering and complaining.

Nick sat back in his seat and took his hat off, running his hands through his hair. It was going to be an interesting year.


...



"All right, pay attention!" Nick's voice was hoarse from yelling. Nothing had gone right this afternoon. His players acted like they'd never seen a football before, his assistant coach was MIA, and the new Chem teacher had watched the entire practice, sitting in the stands with headphones on.

"Today sucked," he began as soon as everyone was huddled around him. "I've seen geriatric blind people play better football than this. I don't know where you all left your game, but you'd better find it before tomorrow, because one more practice like this and you're all running until your legs fall off. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Coach," they all murmured in unison, looking at the ground.

"All right, hit the showers. Now!"

After they had all disappeared into the locker room, he ventured a glance up to the stands, almost disappointed to find them empty. He shook his head, turning to walk back to the gym with his head down, engrossed in his playbook. He almost didn't hear someone calling his name from behind him, but when he turned around, Greg Sanders almost ran right into him.

"Ha. Dude, I'm sorry." Greg stopped short, almost tripping over his own feet, and Nick grabbed his arm to help steady him. He felt the muscles in Greg's arm flex, and his hand involuntarily tightened. Greg looked up at him, smiling sheepishly, and for the first time Nick noticed how long his lashes were.

These are not thoughts to be having, Nick reminded himself, and he quickly removed his hand from Greg's arm. He cleared his throat. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. Sometimes my legs get ahead of the rest of my body." Greg smiled again, and Nick's stomach lurched.

"Something I can help you with?"

Greg cocked his head to one side. "Where are you from?"

"What?"

"Your accent," Greg replied, gesturing as though Nick's accent were something he could point at. "You're not from California, are you?"

"Ah, no. Texas, actually. But I've lived here for a while."

Greg nodded. "Thought so."

Nick frowned. "Is that all you needed? Verification of my home town?"

"No, not exactly. Although you technically didn't tell me what town you're from, so even if that's what I wanted, I still wouldn't be satisfied." Greg paused, looking around. "Actually, could we talk in your office?"

Nick shrugged, confused but curious. "Uh, sure. Follow me." He led Greg into the gymnasium, through the glass doors and into his office. He sat down at his desk and gestured to the empty seat. "Have a seat, man. What's up?"

Greg sat down, and looked around for a second before speaking. "I, uh, I don't know if you remember this, but I'm the faculty advisor for the GSA this year. We've only had one official meeting, but so far I've already had two problems reported, and they both involve one of your players." Greg held his palm up, shaking his head. "And I'm not trying to be a punk here, but apparently this isn't the first time it's happened, and we're only a week into the school year, so I thought I'd talk to you about it before I went to Principal Mathers."

Nick sat back and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. "Let me guess. Shane McPherson?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. Look, like I said, I'm not trying to be-"

"No, man, it's cool. That kid has one hell of an arm, but he also has one hell of an attitude and the mouth to go with it." Nick looked up at Greg. "Sounds like we'll be having our annual sensitivity training a little early this year." Nick noticed Greg's confused look. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just...this is not exactly how I imagined this would go."

Nick smiled sarcastically. "You expected me to, what? Grunt derisively and call you a homo?"

"Not grunt, exactly, but...yeah, kinda."

"Well, Sanders, stereotyping works both ways. You don't assume that every effeminate or sensitive kid is gay, and you don't assume that every football player is a bigoted Neanderthal."

Greg nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry." He looked down at his hands, then back up at Nick, smiling shyly. "Sensitivity training, huh?"

"This school has a zero tolerance for bullying. Not only that, but there's a significantly higher risk of suicide among gay students compared to their straight peers, and I don't take kindly to guys who think they're better than someone else for any reason, much less something biological. Ever since I took this position, I've done what I can to make sure none of my guys make life any harder for any student here, regardless of what group they may fall into." Nick stopped himself, noticing that Greg was watching him again. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Greg shook his head, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. "Uh, no. No, that's it. Thank you." He stood and walked to the door, stopping in the doorway to turn back to Nick. "We should get a beer sometime. Talk about...stuff."

Nick nodded against his better judgment. "Sounds good. I'll see you Monday."


...



When his cell phone rang at nine o'clock on Saturday night, Nick was a little surprised. He wasn't exactly the partying kinda guy, and he was already in his pajama pants and an old college sweatshirt, watching a documentary about penguins on the Discovery channel. It took him a minute to locate his phone, and by the time he found it he had missed the call. The number was one that he didn't recognize, and out of sheer curiosity he dialed it back. A vaguely familiar voice answered.

"Oh, hey. I was just leaving you a voicemail."

"Sanders?"

"Yeah. Hey. Um, I was wondering if you wanted to go get that beer. There's this really great bar about three blocks from my apartment, and...yeah." Nick heard Greg clear his throat, and for some reason it made him grin. He looked down at his clothes and checked his watch.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, we could do that. Give me the directions and I can meet you there."

"Yeah, that sounds awesome."

Nick jotted the directions down on the back of a take-out menu, and told Greg he'd meet him in thirty minutes. It would actually only take him ten minutes to get there, but he figured he might as well shower if he were going out. It was only logical.


...



Exactly thirty minutes later, Nick walked into the bar Greg had told him about. He had never been there before, and he wasn't exactly sure what kind of place it was and he convinced himself that's why he had such a hard time deciding what to wear. After settling-two separate times-on a snug black sweater, jeans, and his cowboy boots, he threw it all on hurriedly and ran a comb through his hair on the way out the door. Say what you might, Nick Stokes was a punctual man.

He found Greg sitting at a table in a corner, nursing what looked like a martini. He made his way over, ignoring the jolt in his chest when Greg saw him and smiled.

"Hey!" Greg flagged down a waiter as Nick sat down, and Nick ordered a Bud Light. After the waiter walked away, Greg smiled another one of those smiles, and Nick made a detailed note of how it lit up his whole face, to be filed away with the rest of the things he was learning about Greg that Were Not Good To Think About.

"I'm really glad you could come, man. I've been thinking about you a lot." Nick blinked, and Greg's eyes widened. "I mean, I've been thinking about our conversation, and what you said. I just..." Greg took a deep breath, and Nick sat back a little in his chair. "Look, to be honest, I was a little nervous about approaching you at all. I'm totally relieved that you're a reasonable, unassuming kind of guy."

Nick smiled, relaxing his shoulders and leaning his arms on the table. "Well, to be honest, I wasn't so sure about you at first either. You're a little...unconventional. I mean, do you own a shirt that has nothing to do with obscure music?"

Greg laughed, looking down at his London Calling T-shirt. "Uh, yeah, but they're not really work appropriate." He winked at Nick, whose cheeks started to burn. Thankfully the waiter chose that time to bring Nick his beer, and he took a drink to cover.

"Look, Nick. I had an ulterior motive for asking you here tonight." Greg leaned forward, almost whispering, and Nick felt his cheeks redden again. Was this guy...

"I wanted to talk to you about Shane McPherson away from the school, so we could be a little more candid."

Nick let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Oh, right. Yeah, okay."

"I've had several students tell me about him, and I know that some of it is more than likely hyperbolic, but it's only been a week, and he's already threatened a fellow student twice. And I've never even met the kid, so I don't know if he's all talk or what, but we both know even that isn't harmless."

Nick nodded somberly. He'd had to deal with this before, and he'd known in his heart that Shane didn't take last year's lectures to heart. Maybe this year he'd have to find a different approach.

"I'd also like to hear more about this sensitivity training. I have to admit, I've never heard of anything like that before, especially not from a football coach."

Nick smirked, taking another drink before explaining. "It's not really a football activity, per se. I hold a little seminar of sorts in each health or PE class. I try to get as close as you can to an honest discourse with a room full of teenagers." Nick turned his beer bottle in his hands. "Honestly, most of these kids don't give a lick of thought to what they say before they say it, and they usually aren't thinking about whether they're hurtin' someone else. All they're trying to do is impress someone else. All I try to do is get them to think before they speak."

Nick stopped, suddenly embarrassed. He didn't know what it was, but something about Greg made it almost impossible *not* to talk to him. And Nick honestly believed that he listened, to everything, and they way Greg was looking at him then, Nick knew that Greg not only heard his words but the emotion behind them, his sincere desire to make life easier for these kids, to make things better, and that frightened him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"So, yeah. That's it in a nutshell."

Greg was still watching him, brow furrowed, and Nick started peeling at the corner of the label on his beer. "What?"

"I've never met anyone like you before." Greg leaned forward, speaking softly. "When I decided to go into teaching, instead of research like I had originally intended, everyone told me I was crazy. I'd never make any money, and I'd never make a difference, and I'd be burned out in five years, tops. And honestly, after TAing with some of the most jaded people I had ever met, I started to think maybe they were right. But you. You're like, the most optimistic, purely kind person I've ever met. You're like a fucking unicorn man. A teacher who actually *likes* kids."

For the third time that night, Nick felt a blush creeping up the sides of his neck. He snorted derisively, more to deflect attention than to disagree. "My mom always told me that I was fatally optimistic. I always kinda considered it a compliment."

Greg smiled. "Is she a teacher?"

Nick shook his head. "No, a prosecutor. My whole family's in law enforcement, actually. My brother is a cop, two of my sisters are detectives, one married a cop, and two are lawyers. My dad's a judge on the Texas Supreme Court. I'm kinda the black sheep." In more ways than one, Nick thought as he finished his beer.

"Wow. That's a big family. I'm an only child, and both my parents are writers. I have a huge extended family, though, and I'm totally the black sheep, so, yeah. I get you."

Greg looked at Nick then, something in his eyes familiar but confusing, and Nick stared back, unable to look away until the waiter reappeared at their table, asking if they would be needing anything else. Nick shook his head and looked down at his empty bottle, now completely devoid of a label, then back up at Greg, who was still watching him.

"You know, I should really be getting home." Nick looked at his watch, surprised at how late it really was. "I've got to put the finishing touches on next week's lesson plans tomorrow, and I've got a game, so..."

"A game?"

"Yeah, some friends and I play in the adult league at the Y. I love football." He smiled, inwardly cringing, but Greg just laughed as he stood up.

"So, let me know about that seminar, huh? I have a free period on Friday, I might want to stop in."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, definitely. Thanks for the beer."

"Anytime." Greg smiled again. Nick fished his keys out of his pocket and turned towards to door. "I'll see you Monday."

***


"Okay, everyone, listen up." Greg waited a few seconds until everyone finished putting their books back into their bags. "Just a couple of things before the bell rings. One, you're going to have a pop quiz tomorrow." He managed to maintain a straight face while half the class laughed and the other half groaned. "It's the first one of the year, so don't make me look bad. Two, now that class assignments are pretty much firm, Jake doesn't have a partner, so he's going to have to threesome with Natalie and James, hold your adolescent snickering please. Also, Wednesday we're going to start our semester long project about forensic chemistry, and we're going to have one of the CSIs from SFPD come and give a little presentation, so be prepared with some questions that don't involve blood and guts, okay?" The bell rang, then, and the students filed out loudly, as always.

It was the last class of the day, his AP Chem class, and honestly it was his favorite. Sure, there were a couple of kids that were only there for the mark on their transcript, but most of them were genuinely interested in being there, and the thing Greg loved most about teaching was teaching kids who actually wanted to learn, and who were as passionate about science as he was.

He smiled to himself as he loaded his laptop and binders into his shoulder bag. Sure, it was only the second week, but he felt like maybe he was starting to get the hang of it, and he was surprised to find that he felt a lot more prepared than he was expec-

"Mr. Sanders?"

Greg shook himself out of his mind and turned towards the door, where Brandon Lillie stood, fidgeting nervously with the strap of his backpack.

"Oh, hey Brandon. What's up?" Greg motioned for him to come into the classroom, and raised an eyebrow when Brandon shut the door behind him.

"I-I was kinda wondering if I could talk to you about what we talked about last week."

"That's...impossibly vague. What we talked about in Chem, or what we talked about in the meeting?"

Brandon laughed nervously as he took a seat at one of tables. "Um, the meeting, actually. Look, I've been thinking about it, and it's not really that big of a deal. I mean, they're just a bunch of stupid jocks, and I don't want to make a huge deal about it, okay? It's not like they're kicking my ass everyday or something, and it could be worse. "˜Cause they're just words, right?"

Greg frowned. "Well, yeah, but they're hateful words, Brandon, and if it bothers you, it's a big deal. It's not even about the words, really, but the intention behind them. No one has the right to make you feel inferior because of who you date, or what you wear, or the melanin content of your skin, or anything else." Greg took a deep breath, remembering a little too clearly what it was like to be in Brandon's place. "Look, it doesn't make you any less of "˜a man' if you're gay. This whole societal notion of what constitutes masculinity is kinda bullshit, anyway." Brandon's eyes widened marginally, and Greg bit his own tongue. First note of the school year: Don't swear around the kids. Okay.

Greg smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Words are powerful, as lame and after-school special-y as that sounds." Greg paused. Did they even have after-school specials anymore? He might have to Google that. "Anyway, I talked to Coach Stokes, and he's going to talk to Shane about it." Brandon's shoulders sagged, and Greg laughed. "Dude, it doesn't make you a tattletale. It's not like you're complaining because Shane called you a doodyhead." Greg dipped his head to look at Brandon. "You did the right thing by telling me. Seriously. You need to know that."

Brandon nodded, but Greg could tell he wasn't convinced. "All right, we'll talk about it Friday afternoon at the next meeting, okay? And if you're going to lie to me, you're going to have to work on your poker face. Now get out of here, because some of us science geeks have places to be."

Brandon laughed, finally, and Greg's heart swelled a little. As insanely narcissistic as it probably was, he would've killed for someone like himself when he was in high school, and if he could help these kids and make them understand that there's nothing wrong with them, then that was something, right? He grabbed his bag and followed Brandon into the hallway, smiling as Brandon's best friend attached herself to his side as they left the building. Once he was in the parking lot, he flipped his cell open and hit the first speed dial button.


...



"So, I finally figured out who the me is, I think." Greg reached across the table and stole one of Sara's chips.

"Oh, yeah?" She swatted his hand playfully, and scooted her plate closer to her chest. "Who?"

"There's this kid in my third period, Brandon. God, he reminds me so much of myself. He even has a you."

Sara smiled widely. "Aw, a tiny fag hag! She's in for a lot of heartache, I'll tell you."

Greg laughed. "True. But she's got that built-in prom date, so that's something." He laughed harder as Sara threw a chip at him, still managing to catch it in his mouth. "Okay, so, you're still coming on Wednesday, right? Fourth period starts at 1:47."

"That's an arbitrary time."

"It's the block scheduling, it messes with the even quarters. But, yeah, I told the kids about it today and I think it's going to be awesome."

Sara smiled again. "You're such a dork."

"Uh, takes one to know one."

"Touché. Or, um, shut up. Whatever. Yes, I'll be there, I'll more than likely be early because I've got some stuff I want to set up. I'm actually really excited. We had a really cool workshop about using forensic science in a chemistry classroom at the convention in Vegas last month. Well, it wasn't on my schedule, but I kinda dropped in. For you. Because I love you." Greg rolled his eyes and clutched his chest, but she just kept going. "I think we're going to start with fingerprinting, mainly because it should be fairly easy to talk my supervisor out of lift tape, cyanoacrylate and ninhydrin, and I have my own portable fume hood."

"How was that seminar, by the way? Did you see your Bug Lover?"

Sara wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I think that little crush has died. I did see him, though. I had drinks with him and a guy he works with, who was so hot, by the way. He had these eyes... God. They have an opening, apparently, and his eyes would almost be worth moving to Nevada." Sara shook her head, and Greg laughed. When she narrowed her eyes at him, though, he swallowed thickly.

"Speaking of impossibly hot guys, how's your football coach?"

Greg almost choked on his coffee, sputtering and reaching for a napkin. "What?"

"Oh my god, Greg. School's been in session, what? A week? And you haven't stopped talking about him. What a nice guy he is, how smart he is, how open-minded and kind and his arms and his smile and his eyes." Sara smiled evilly as she popped a chip in her mouth. "So? What's the story?"

"There isn't a story. He's a fellow educator, and we have crossed paths a few times, in a purely professional setting." When Sara rolled her eyes and snorted, Greg leaned forward. "Except, I did invite him to get a drink with me on Saturday night, and he did come. To the bar. And he is maybe the awesomest person ever."

"Is awesomest a wor-"

"God, Sara, focus! I have a crisis."

"How did we go from fellow educators to a crisis in less than one second?"

Greg sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You know I'm no good at denial. I just...he really is amazing, and I think we could be friends, you know? But I don't how long it would just be friends, and he's the straightest guy I've ever met. He's the fucking football coach, for fuck's sake. He plays football on the weekends, and let me tell you, it took every ounce of control in my body not to shoot down to the Y yesterday to check that out."

Sara sighed dreamily. "We should join the Y."

"We should buy the Y. And move it to my bedroom. But more importantly," he continued, stealing Sara's last chip, "I've already decided to be closeted at work, at least this year. I mean, yes, it's San Fran, and yes, it's the gayest city in the US, but it's still high school. So I want to feel it out. Not to mention the fact that getting involved with a coworker is bad news, and my particular coworker is the football coach. Did I mention that?"

"You have always had an affinity for football players. Remember Dan Clark?"

"Oh, Dan. The things I could've done to that guy."

"Heh. So, what're you going to do about Coach Nick?"

Greg shrugged, pulling two twenties out of his wallet. "Nothing, I guess. I mean, I would seriously take cold showers every night for the rest of my life if that's what it took to be his friend. He's a genuinely amazing person, Sara. It would be worth it." It surprised him how intensely he meant that. He stood up, extending his hand for Sara's, who took it and smiled knowingly.

"You are in serious trouble."


...



Greg glanced at the clock on the back wall of his classroom. 5:30. If he left that very second, he'd have just enough time to grab a shower before he was supposed to meet Sara for dinner. He was shuffling the tests he'd been grading into a neat stack when a soft knock on the door made him look up. He couldn't control the huge smile that erupted when he saw Nick leaning against the door jamb.

"Hey!"

"Hey. Heard you had an interesting visitor today."

"Really?" Greg stuck the papers in a file and shoved them into the side pocket of his bag. "From whom?"

"It was all Jake and Heath could talk about at practice. The hot CSI chick that came to their Chem class." Nick grinned, and Greg couldn't help but laugh.

"I wonder if that means they paid more or less attention?"

"Well, they did mention cyanoacrylate and ninhydrin, so I'm thinking more."

Greg looked up at Nick, surprised, and Nick raises an eyebrow. "I'm not allowed to like science?"

"No, it's just...no. I mean, yeah, science rocks. You just keep surprising me, that's all." Greg turned his back to Nick for a moment as he closed his laptop.

"So, uh, she your girlfriend?"

"No." Greg spun around, almost losing his balance. "No. Best friend, since high school. I mean, she's awesome, but, yeah. No. You'd like her, though."

Something passed over Nick's face that Greg couldn't quiet decipher, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared and Nick's jovial grin had returned. "You should introduce us sometime."

The words were out of Greg's mouth before his brain could process them. "I'm meeting her for dinner, actually. You should join us." He turned back around to grab his bag, and winced when Nick said, "Yeah, that'd be great." He put on a smile and turned around.

"Great. Um, we're meeting at seven, at my place." Greg jotted down the address on a slip of paper and handed it to Nick. "We usually ride together, since parking's such a bitch."

Nick studied the paper, then looked up at Greg, smiling that smile that made Greg's toes tingle. "Awesome, man. Thanks. I'll see you then."


...



"Sara, oh my God, pick up the phone. Pick up the phooooooone. I know you can hear me, you're the only person in California that still has an answering machine. Pick up the damn phone!" Greg took a deep breath, barely even braking as he manuvered into a parking place in front of his building. "Okay, whatever. Slight change in plans. Um, Nick is joining us for dinner, and he's meeting us here at my place, and, yeah. Holy shit. Please call me back."

Greg checked his watch as he climbed the stairs two at a time. 6:15. He had just enough time to take the quickest shower ever and throw everything cluttering the floor of his apartment into the empty closet in the hallway. Perfect.

Forty-three minutes later, the apartment was reasonably clean and so was Greg. Someone, somewhere, had decided to smile upon him, and his hair ended up perfectly styled-not-styled the first time, so when Nick knocked on the door at exactly seven, Greg was pouring himself a glass of juice and trying to catch his breath. He kicked an errant sock under the bookshelf in the living room as he walked to the door, smiling as he swung it open.

"Nick, hey!"

"Hey, G."

Greg moved away from the door to let Nick in. "Are you always on time?"

Nick snickered. "Always."

"Good to know. I'll start telling you to show up fifteen minutes later than everyone else."

"Is everyone you know perpetually late?" Nick followed Greg down the hallway into the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah, pretty much. They all seem to run on GST, so-" Greg cut himself short, eyes widening. "Do you want some water, or something?"

Nick leaned against the counter, frowning. "GST?"

"Um, no. Juice?" Greg hid himself behind the refrigerator door, wincing.

"No, thanks, man. What's GST?"

"Did I say GST? I meant GMT. You know, Greenwich Mean Time. I have a lot of British friends, so they're actually perpetually early. Sometimes whole days. Beer? Wine? Milk?"

"Really, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

Just then, in what Greg could only assume was divine intervention, he heard his door open and Sara's voice sounding down the hallway.

"Hey, I'm here."

Greg stood up and closed the door quickly, rattling the jars inside. "There's Sara! Be right back." Greg ran down the hall, grabbing Sara's elbow and pulling her away from the kitchen.

"He's been here exactly fifteen seconds, and I've already told him all my friends run on Gay Standard Time. This isn't going well."

"Did he know what GST meant, Greg?" Sara tried to shrug off her jacket, but Greg pulled it back onto her shoulders.

"No, of course not," he whispered through clenched teeth. "Further proof that he's impossibly straight."

"So, did you explain it?" Sara whispered back, pushing Greg away from her back.

"No, I told him all my friends are British. Remind me to get British friends."

"Greg. Stop." Sara took him by the shoulders and held tightly. "Breathe." Greg took a deep breath, and she continued. "Stop being a drama queen. Seriously. Get your shit together. We're going to dinner." She looked down the hall. "Did you just leave him in the kitchen?"

"Shit. Yes. He's going to look at things. Read my magnetic poetry. We should go before I have a heart attack."

As if on cue, Nick appeared at the end of the hallway. "Are we ready to go?"

Greg turned towards him, inwardly cringing at the death grip Sara suddenly had on his arm. "Uh, Nick, this is my best friend, Sara. Sara, Nick Stokes."

Nick held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Sara. I've heard a lot about you."

Sara smiled sweetly as she shook Nick's hand. "Well, most of what Greg says is a blatant lie, so..."

"Actually, most of it was from my players, so take that for what it's worth." Nick smiled that dazzling smile, the one that made the edges of his eyes crease, and somewhere inside Greg's chest a dangerous jealousy flared.

"Let's go, shall we?" Greg's voice was tight, and Sara flashed him a look before heading out the door. Nick followed, then Greg, closing and locking the door after them. "Are we all riding together, or what?"

Sara shrugged, but Nick held up his keys. "I'd be glad to drive if someone can give me directions." Greg nodded, and the three of them trekked down the stairs to Nick's truck. When Greg opened the door and started to get inside, Sara put her arm out to stop him and leaned in until her lips brushed his ear.

"One, we're having your gaydar checked tomorrow, baby. Two, get in the front seat. Three? You need a thesaurus, because none of the words you used came close to describing how beautiful he is." She moved away and smiled, climbing into the backseat and leaving Greg standing outside the truck.

Nick leaned over and looked at him, grinning. "You coming, G?"

Greg climbed into the passenger's seat and closed the door, giving Nick abbreviated directions as he buckled his seat belt.

"So, what exactly is this place?"

"It's a Japanese steakhouse," Sara piped up from the backseat. "But we really go for the sushi. They have the best vegetarian gyoza. And amazing futo maki." Greg ventured a look over at Nick, whose brow was furrowed in what he assumed was confusion.

"Have you ever had sushi, Nick?"

"Once. It was...not an experience I'd like to relive. But you said steakhouse, right?"

Sara sighed. "I'm constantly surrounded by carnivores."

"I take it you're a vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Once you've watched a pig decompose to study the pattern of larval dispersal of blowflies, you just can't look at a pork chop quite the same way again."

Greg swallowed thickly, shooting Sara his best "˜shut the fuck up, woman' look, but when he glanced over, Nick was still grinning.

"Ah, my uncle has a huge cattle farm in Texas. Eventually you just accept the fact that Bessie makes a damn fine sirloin, and you move on." When Nick looked into the rear view mirror and winked, Greg didn't even have to glance back to know that Sara was trying to decide between being offended and charmed. From her lack of rebuttal, he assumed she'd settled for charmed.

Nick and Sara spent the rest of the ride snarking at each other, laughing the entire time, and Greg was mostly content to let them get to know each other. No matter what Sara said, he had absolutely no intention of putting the moves on Nick, but he did enjoy his company, and he liked the idea of the three of them becoming friends. He was glad that Sara and Nick got along so well, and he quickly pushed the tiny ball of jealousy in his stomach to the far reaches of his awareness.

Dinner was perfect, if he was honest with himself. Sara limited the amount of disgusted glances at Nick's rare steak, and Nick eventually stopped mooing at her every time she tried to take a bite, and by the time they got back to his apartment Greg's cheeks were sore from laughing.

He helped Sara out of the truck, pulling her into a sudden and off-kilter hug. Nick walked around to their side of the truck and held out his hand to Sara.

"It was nice to meet you, Sara. I hope we can do this again."

Sara blushed-something that Greg would tease her endlessly about later-as she shook Nick's hand. "Likewise." She turned to Greg, eyes shining. "I will see you Friday, right?"

Greg nodded, and Sara walked down the street to where her car was parked. "Good night, boys!"

Both Greg and Nick watched her until she turned at the light, and then suddenly they were alone. Greg shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling vaguely like he was at the end of a first date. Nick's hands were in his own pockets, and they stood there, mirror images of each other, for a few blissfully silent seconds before Nick spoke.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Greg. I really appreciate it."

Greg waved a hand, smiling. "Don't mention it. It was a lot of fun."

Nick looked at him, then, eyes serious and dark, and then Greg's brain had a serious malfunction, because for the tiniest of nanoseconds, it almost felt like Nick was going to kiss him. Greg shook his head, and Nick blinked quickly.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow." Nick started backing up towards his truck, and Greg did the same towards the front door of his building. "Good night."

"Night, Nick." Greg offered a small wave before turning and walking into his building, waiting behind the door until he heard Nick's truck pull away.

Sara was right. He was in serious trouble.

***

Over the next several weeks his team remembered that they were actually on this big, green expanse of land to play football, and practices were going much better. He watched as the players scrimmaged. Eventually, his thoughts wandered to the conversation he and Greg had had about Shane McPherson. He hadn't said anything yet, waiting to see how things would pan out, but he figured it was time to do something.

"All right, guys. Huddle up!" Nick put his hands on his hips as the team formed a circle around him. "It's nice to see you guys actually playing the game for once. Keep this up and Homecoming should be cake. I think we're good today, so hit the showers. Shane, can you stick around for a minute?"

Shane held back as the other plays walked off the field. Nick started walking in the opposite direction, towards the bleachers, and Shane followed.

"What's up, Coach?"

"Shane, I want you to do something for me."

"Sure. What is it?"

Nick turned and looked at Shane. "I want you to call me a fag."

Shane blanched, taking a step back.

"What?"

Nick's voice was even, almost conversational, but there was an underlying seriousness that he knew Shane could recognize. "I want you to look me in the eyes and call me a fag."

"I can't."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Because. You're...Coach. I can't say that."

"So, you can't say it here, to me, but you can say it in the halls, to someone else. Explain that logic to me, Shane."

Shane fidgeted for a moment, and then shrugged. "It's different. You're an adult. I respect you."

"You're an adult, too. You're eighteen now. But you're supposed to respect everyone, regardless of age or gender or anything else that makes them different from you. That's the only way to make it. You're the captain of this team, and you're supposed to be a leader. You need to start acting like one, and the first step in doing that is treating the people around you fairly."

Shane rolled his eyes, and Nick took a step towards him. "This isn't some lecture you can ignore, and then talk shit about me to your buddies later, Shane. We've been through this more times than I care to count, and I, for one, am tired of wasting my breath on you. I can't let you keep pulling this stuff, because it makes me and the rest of the team look bad. I'm not going to let you guys play into the stereotype of bullying, mindless jocks. You're too good for that, and so am I." Nick took a deep breath.

"If I get another report of you insulting or threatening a student at this school, or any other school, or any other person, I'm benching you. End of story."

Shane opened his mouth to protest, but Nick held up a hand. "No. We've done this, Shane, for two years now, and I'm not doing it for a third. I don't care what you think, or what you feel, or how many stupid insults run through your head every day. But the second you vocalize one, and I find out about it, you're done. Am I clear?"

Shane looked at the ground and mumbled a begrudging "yes, sir."

"Good. Now go shower and get home. It's getting late."

Nick waited until Shane was out of sight before heading into his office. He sat down and pulled a file out of his desk, making a hasty note before shoving it back in the drawer and slamming it shut and resting his face in his hands.

"Whoa. You okay?"

Nick opened his eyes to find Greg standing in the doorway, forehead creased in concern.

"Yeah, man. I'm fine."

"Okay." Nick could tell Greg didn't quite believe him, but he smiled anyway. "Hey, you want to grab a pizza or something? Sara's out of town this week, and I'm kinda going crazy from the lack of adult conversation, so..."

"Ah, I can't tonight, man. Maybe tomorrow?"

Greg's face fell, but he recovered quickly and nodded. "Yeah. Sounds great. See you tomorrow." He walked away, leaving Nick to run a hand over his face and sigh. He checked his watch. His little chat with Shane had put him behind, and he was going to have to hurry to make it home in time.


...



He was halfway home before it occurred to him that he could've invited Greg over instead of blowing him off. He wasn't sure why, but something about Greg meeting his friends made him nervous. Not that they weren't good guys. In fact, Nick figured they'd probably get along great, it was just...

Greg was definitely the kind of guy that Nick could fall hard for, and while normally that would send Nick running in the opposite direction, he couldn't imagine not being around Greg. There was something infectious about his personality, this energy that radiated from him and touched everyone around him, and Nick loved it. Nick knew that it could lead down dangerous paths that he'd avoided for years, but every time Greg stuck his head into Nick's office or called on a Saturday night, Nick just couldn't say no.

He was already in too deep for his own comfort level, and bringing Greg around his outside friends was just asking for trouble. They were good guys, sure, but they knew everyone of Nick's secrets, things that Nick worked like a dog to keep hidden from everyone at school.

Most of all, Greg made him think about his decision to stay closeted. It wasn't any form of internal homophobia, or shame. He knew who he was, and he was proud of the person that he became after he moved to California. It was a difficult decision, to tell his family the truth and make a life for himself so far away, but he never regretted it. He was logical, though, and he knew that even though San Francisco was a liberal town, he was still the football coach at a high school, and if he wanted the players, parents and other schools to take him seriously, he had to keep certain details of his life to himself.

He loved his job. He loved helping these kids take their raw talent and focus it into something that they could be proud of, something that could carry them to college if they wanted. He loved the game, loved the strategies and plays and competition. He loved the way these kids trusted him to make the right decisions, loved seeing the pride in their faces when they were praised, and their determination to get something right. It was a difficult decision, to choose between his work and a personal life, but most days he felt he made the right one.

Which was why Greg was starting to make him nervous. They had been spending more and more time together outside of school, and even if he hadn't seen the magnets on Greg's fridge he's pretty sure he could've figured it out for himself eventually. Sometimes, when they were at dinner, or playing Madden or whatever, Nick almost lost himself. It was just so comfortable that he sometimes had to remind himself that they weren't dating. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought maybe Greg felt the same way, and that was the scariest part.

His cell phone ringing jarred him out of his thoughts, and Nick pulled it out of his windbreaker pocket and checked the display. Bobby Cell. He flipped it open and set it between his ear and his shoulder, turning onto his street.

"Hello?"

"Hey, man, where are you? We're standing outside your house."

Nick took a second to look around. "I'm less than a minute away, man. You need to learn to be a little more patient."

"Well, you need to learn to be a little more punctual. Archie just ordered the pizza, so hurry your ass up." Bobby ended the call, and Nick tossed his phone into the passenger seat.

True to their word, Archie and Bobby were leaning against Archie's Honda Pilot, parked on the street in front of Nick's house. They both lifted their hands to shield their eyes against his headlights as he pulled into the driveway. They walked up to the side of the truck as Nick climbed out.

"See? Two seconds and I woulda been here."

"Will you just shut up and open the damn door? You're either gonna have to start being on time, or give us a key to your place, 'cause I feel like an idiot standing outside waiting for you."

"You know, you guys could start hosting these little soirees at your apartments." Nick took an exaggeratedly long time unlocking his front door, causing Bobby to kick him in the heels.

"Dude, you're the one with the huge TV," Archie pointed out.

"Right." Nick grinned as he opened the door. "And it has nothing to do with Leise or Aiden, right?"

Bobby and Archie set the bags of chips and containers of dip on the coffee table and Nick went into the kitchen to grab them a beer.

"Aiden. That name seems so familiar, and yet..." Bobby put a finger to his chin in mock contemplation as Nick set a beer in front of him.

"Marital issues, dear?" Archie smiled and twisted the cap off his bottle.

Bobby sighed. "No, not really. It's just that he studies constantly, and while I'm looking so forward to being a doctor's wife, it's just going to be a really stressful four years, you know?"

Nick laughed and toed off his shoes, resting his feet on the coffee table. "Man, imagine the fun you'll have with all the other doctor's wives, though. Garden parties."

"Fundraisers. And then Cailin will be old enough to play soccer, and you can get an SUV and a Labrador retriever."

Nick smiled as Bobby smacked Archie in the arm. "You know what, though? Except for the garden party fundraisers, the rest of it doesn't sound that bad. The kid, I mean, and soccer games. And a dog."

Bobby gave Archie a Look, and Archie nodded slightly, whispering. "I know. You were right."

Nick frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. Except for the part where you're a huge fucking liar, and to yourself, which is, like, twice as bad."

Nick rolled his eyes and sighed. "I think it's a little bit early to have the 'Nick, you really need to find someone and settle down' conversation. We haven't even watched the game yet." Nick reached for the remote but he didn't turn on the TV. "Besides, we all know how it goes, so we could just relive it in our minds and pretend we had it."

Archie leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "Nick, man, come on. You haven't had a relationship in years, since you started at Eastman and the only one you have had lasted, what? Weeks?"

Nick nodded. "Plus, it was with Bobby, so it doesn't even count."

"Exactly." Archie nodded in agreement.

"Hey!"

"Come on, dude." Archie looked at Bobby. "You guys practically define the term 'better friends than lovers.'"

"Dude, don't say 'lover.'" Nick wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Archie rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying that Bobby doesn't count, because not only did you only date for three seconds, you didn't even have sex. Which means, if I'm not mistaken, you haven't had sex in a little over-"

"Forty-seven years," Bobby interjected, and Archie laughed loudly.

"Wait a damn minute." Nick held up a hand. "How do you know all the intimate details of mine and Bobby's relationship?"

"Uh, I think you mean lack of intimate details, buddy." Archie was still laughing, and Nick looked at Bobby.

"I'm sorry! You hadn't even met Archie then, and I had to talk to someone!"

Nick sat back in the chair and exhaled loudly. "I have the worst friends in the world." He reached forward and grabbed a bag of chips, opening them and setting them in his lap. "Besides, your math is a little off. Just because I haven't been in a relationship doesn't mean I haven't had sex."

Archie raised an eyebrow. "True. But you just admitted that you wanted more than random hookups, did you not?"

"I said it sounded nice. I didn't say I wanted it."

"Semantics." Bobby leaned over and grabbed a chip from the bag on Nick's lap. "You need someone, Nick. You want someone."

"This is a real easy conversation for you guys to have. You," he said, pointing to Bobby, "are married with a daughter, and you," Archie this time, "are practically married to an awesome girl. It's not that easy to just go out and find someone you can spend the rest of your life with."

"So you admit that you want to find someone like that?" Bobby's voice was a little more serious now, tinged with something that sounded an awful lot like concern. Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"I'm pleading the fifth. Besides, it's a moot point, because..."

"Man, this whole 'because of my job' excuse is getting tired. And it's not like you'd have to look that hard." Archie looked at him pointedly, and Nick felt like he was missing something.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Nick. Are you completely blind?"

"Are you drunk?" Nick frowned, trying desperately to catch on to something he felt was totally outside his realm of consciousness.

"Greg Sanders, man!"

Nick choked on his beer, leaning forward and coughing violently. Bobby reached out and hit him on the back a couple of times, and Archie sat back with a smug look on his face. "That is what I'm talking about. I mean, it's not obvious to anyone that doesn't know you, but come on. The way he looks when you walk into the teacher's lounge? The way you just happen to stop by the Chem lab after classes?"

"Archie, he's a friend. I stop by the computer lab, too, it doesn't mean I'm in love with you."

"Wait a minute, Nicky. No one said anything about being in love with anybody." Bobby's eyes were sparkling, and for a brief second Nick wanted to punch him.

"This conversation is fucking ridiculous. One, I'm not in the market for a husband, or life partner, or whatever. Secondly, even if I were, it wouldn't matter, because of my job. Tired or not, it's a valid excuse. Third, and I feel, most importantly, Greg's a friend. A buddy. Just like you guys."

"Is that why he's here tonight?" Archie gestured around the room.

"What?"

"Dude, come on. If you really were just friends, or whatever, then he would be here, drinking a beer and watching the game. I mean, he likes football, or it would seem as much time as he spends down at the field with you. So why isn't he here?"

"Do you ever teach your classes, man, or do you just spy on your colleagues?"

"I'm observant, Nicholas. It's a good quality for a teacher to possess. Besides, half my day is spent standing in front of kids who've had a computer since they were three years old. Not all that demanding anymore."

Bobby waved his hands in between them. "Okay, enough shop talk. What are you going to do about it?" He looked at Nick.

"Do about what?"

"Oh, my God." Archie sat forward on the edge of the couch and opened his mouth just as the doorbell rang.

"Pizza!" Nick literally jumped out of the chair and jogged to the door, taking longer than normal to pull the money out of his pocket and take the boxes from the kid. Instead of heading back into the living room, he went to the kitchen instead and grabbed three more beers and a stack of napkins. By the time he had made it back, Archie had queued up the TiVo to the beginning of the game, and he and Bobby were talking about Cailin's newest tooth. Nick hoped that their previous conversation was over, permanently.


...



During his free period the next day, Nick was trying to grade his second period's Health tests, but his mind kept wandering to Archie and Bobby, and Greg, and everything was swirling around in his head and making it impossible to concentrate. When someone knocked gently on his door, he was both thankful for the distraction and wishing it wasn't Greg.

"Come in."

Greg poked his head in the door, smiling nervously, and Nick couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey, you got a second?"

Nick nodded, motioning for Greg to come inside. "Sure, what's up?"

Greg stepped inside the office and closed the door. "Nothing major. It's just that Sara's birthday is in three weeks, and I was thinking about making dinner at my place. Nothing big, just a few people, but I wanted to invite you."

Nick considers Greg for a moment, Archie's comments still resonating, and he nods. "Know what we should do, though? Y'all should come over to my place. She can bring that paramedic she's been dating, and I'll invite some people, and we can cook out."

Greg's raises an eyebrow. "Your place? Uh, yeah. We can do that."

"Is that okay? I mean, I don't want to steal your thunder or anything."

"No, no, that would be awesome. I think she'd love that."

Nick nodded. "Cool then. When's her birthday, again?"

"Um, three weeks from Saturday. Is that cool?"

"Yeah, that's awesome. I'll get some steaks, and I'll get Sara a tofu burger or something." Greg laughed as Nick made a note in his calendar. "My friend Archie's girlfriend makes an awesome potato salad, and Bobby can bring something, and if you bring drinks it'll be a whole thing."

"That sounds awesome. She will love that, I swear." Greg checked the clock behind Nick's head. "I should get back to the lab, but I'll see you later, okay?" He gave Nick a brilliant smile before leaving his office, and as hard as he tried Nick couldn't seem to ignore the little flutter in his stomach. He heard Archie's voice in his head, the way he looks when you walk into the teacher's lounge, and Nick shook his head as the bell rang.

***

"Where is that blue shirt? The one with the thing on the shoulder?"

Greg looked over his shoulder in the direction of his closet. "Some of us don't organize our closets by color and season, Sara. I have no idea where it is."

Sara stuck her head out and glared at him. "Some of us, Gregory, like to be able to find things when we're freaking out about having nothing to wear on a date. And that shirt looks killer on you, so you should get your ass in this closet and help me find it."

"Sara, I've been out of the closet since high school, and no amount of begging on your part is going to change me." Sara intensified her glare, gesturing to the closet. "Besides, it's not a date," Greg added as he made his way through piles of rejected shirts and jeans to the closet. "It's your birthday party. I just...want to look nice." Greg rifled through one of the shorter stacks and found the shirt Sara was talking about. He pulled it over his head and studied his reflection in the full-length mirror. He looked...like himself.

Sara walked over and stood next to him. "Perfect."

"What's perfect? I look just like I do every other day, Sar."

"Exactly." Sara looked at him in their reflections. "You really don't get it, do you?" When Greg shook his head, Sara rolled her eyes. "He likes you, Greg. I know you don't want to believe that he does, and I know you think he's straight, but you're wrong. He likes you, and he likes you because you're you, with all your craziness and goofy rambling and obsession with shirts with seven previous owners. And when I see you in this shirt, I see quintessential Greg. So, it's perfect." She smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek, then walked into the living room. He studied his reflection a little longer. He wanted to believe her so much, but he knew he couldn't. Too many times down that road, too many straight guys and broken hearts, and he wasn't doing that again.

Not that the whole "unrequited love" thing was any better, but at least Nick was a good person.

"Greg! Hank's pulling the car around! Let's go!"

Greg grabbed his track jacket and flipped his bedroom light off. When he got into the living room, something was...off. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he realized what it was.

"Dude, what is your boyfriend's problem? He keeps rearranging the stuff on my coffee table."

"I don't know." Sara shrugged. "He has this...thing, about moving things. It's weird, but oh well. He's hot. Are you ready?"

Greg moved the stack of books back to its rightful place, and then took her hand. "Let's blow this popsicle stand." He checked his hair one more time in the hallway mirror, until Sara pushed him out the door to the elevator.

In Hank's car, Greg reminded him no less than seven times that no one else at the party would know that Greg was gay, so please, please, please don't say anything, okay? Hank just nodded and gave him that "no worries, dude" look, which only served to worry him more.

There were several cars parked outside, which made Greg even more nervous, and if he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn't a date, he was in worse than serious trouble.

Nick greeted them at the door with a huge smile, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and an apron, and Sara gave Greg a look as they walked inside.

"Hey, you guys are just in time. I just threw everything on the grill, so we should be eating soon." Nick leaned over and gave Sara a kiss on the cheek. "Happy birthday."

"Aw, thank you." She gave him a quick hug, then Nick turned to Hank and held his hand out.

"Hank, good to see you, man." Hank shook his hand and returned the sentiment, and Nick turned to Greg and clapped a hand on his back.

"Hey, G, let me help you with that." He took one of the cases of beer from Greg and led him into the kitchen, where two ice chests were set up next to the patio door. Sara and Hank followed, and once the beer was iced they all went out on the patio.

"Hey, guys, this is Greg, Sara, and Sara's boyfriend Hank. And this Leise and Archie, who you should know, Greg," Nick pointed to a beautiful girl sitting on the lap of a guy Greg recognized as the computer science teacher from Eastern. "And this is Bobby and his husband Aiden." Nick pointed to a guy with blond curls sitting next to a brunette man and Greg smiled as everyone murmured hellos.

"Hey, Sara, nice to meet you." Leise stood up and walked towards them. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks. Nice to meet you, too."

Leise took Sara by the arm and led her somewhere, and Greg realized that they were the only girls there, because Nick's friend Bobby has a husband, and for some reason it made him almost giddy. It shouldn't have surprised him, really, it was just the first glimmer of hope that he'd had so far, and yeah, straight people could have gay friends, but it wasn't-

"Hey."

Greg looked over, startled, and Nick was standing next to him smiling.

"Where were you?"

Greg laughed. "I don't even know, man."

Nick cocked his head to one side, towards the grill.

"Come help me get these steaks?" Greg nodded, stepping over to the grill and grabbing a platter, and when he looked over towards Sara he noticed Archie giving him a strange look and a little smile. Greg frowned, confused, but Archie just smiled wider and Greg smiled back, a little lost.

Nick loaded the steaks onto a platter, which Greg carried inside and set on the table. He put Sara's tofu burgers on a separate plate, "to avoid contamination by the evil beef products," and they all found a seat inside. Greg noticed, as they all sat down, that everyone was paired off. Sara and Hank, Archie and Leise, Bobby and Aiden, and...Nick and Greg. He liked the sound of it, repeated it over and over in his mind as he sat down next to Nick, and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Nick had understated the brilliance of Leise's potato salad, and everything was amazing. Greg ate in silence, absorbing the conversation around him. Nick's friends were hilarious, kind and charismatic, and Greg could see an infinite number of these dinners stretching out into the future. It scared him a little, but mostly it made his stomach flutter.

They sat at the table long after their plates were empty, talking and laughing, until over an hour later when Nick clapped his hands together and raised his eyebrows. "Who's ready for cake?"

Sara shot Greg a look as Nick walked into the kitchen, and when he returned carrying a huge tomato-shaped cake, they both laughed.

Nick sat the cake on front of her, grinning. "I was going to make it cow-shaped, but Leise said that would be unforgivable."

"Well, Leise is a bright woman, Nick. I think she just saved you from some major pain."

Nick stuck his tongue out at Sara, who reciprocated with a grin.

"I also didn't dare ask how many candles to put on it, so please do not infer anything. This is a completely arbitrary number."

Sara laughed again as Archie reached over and lit all the candles, and they sang a terrible rendition of "Happy Birthday" as she beamed at everyone. She blew all the candles out in the first go and everyone clapped.

"So, what'd you wish for?" Bobby asked.

"I loaned my wish out to a friend." Sara smiled conspiratorially at Greg, and he felt his cheeks color. Bobby followed Sara's gaze, grinning at him, and he thought everyone at the party was in on some secret that he was completely unaware of.

The cake was strawberry, which was Sara's favorite, and Greg didn't even ask how Nick managed to find that out. There was also a present from Nick, a T-shirt with a cartoon tomato that read "Of course I'm hungry. I'm a vegetarian." Greg laughed loudly, because it was perfect for Sara, and when she leaned over and gave Nick a kiss on the cheek Greg wasn't even jealous. He wondered when that changed.

After all the plates were cleared, Bobby looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. "If we don't leave now we're going to have to take a second mortgage to pay the baby-sitter." He turned to Aiden, who just nodded and smiled.

"Greg," he extended his hand. "It was great to finally meet you, man. Hope to see you again soon."

The sides of Greg's mouth curled into a grin. Finally. He shook Bobby's offered hand, then Aiden's. "Great to meet you both, too. We'll have to do this again some time."

Bobby gave Nick a look, then smiled. "Definitely."

"We should be going, too. We're having brunch with Leise's parents in the morning." Archie stood up, then offered a hand to Leise. They shook hands with Greg, too, and Archie said something about having lunch that week, and Leise hugged him. They all hugged Sara and shook hands with Hank, and after they'd left Nick looked at Greg and smiled one of those huge, brilliant, sparkling smiles.

"That was awesome."

Greg couldn't seem to find his voice, so Sara slid up beside him and looped her arm in his. "Definitely the best birthday party I've had in a long time." She looked at Greg expectantly, then walked down the hall.

"Yeah. Do we, uh, need to help you clean up or anything?"

Nick shook his head, still smiling. "No, no, I'm just going to load everything into the dishwasher."

Sara reappeared with her bag over her shoulder. "We should get going, too, then." She gave Nick a hug and kissed him again on the cheek. "Thank you so much, for everything."

Nick returned the hug, and in that moment they reminded Greg of siblings more than ever. "You're welcome. Happy birthday, again."

Sara walked over to Hank and took his hand. "You ready to go?"

Hank looked up from the photograph he'd been studying. "I finally figured out who this guy reminds me of."

"What?" Greg walked over and looks at the picture, with Nick not far behind.

"Oh, that's my brother John. He lives in Texas."

"Right, but I saw this when we first came in and it's been bugging me. He looks like that guy," Hank turned towards Greg and Sara. "That guy you used to date, with the dogs? Sara has a picture of the three of you in her living room, with all the dogs."

In books, when something catastrophic happened to the main character, there were always things like tires screeching and car crashes, or records screeching to a halt, and descriptions like "his heart leapt to his throat." In that second, Greg felt every cliché in the world. Tires, records, atomic bombs, everything.

He and Sara both turned to Hank, eyes wide, and Sara looked back at Nick, but Greg couldn't bring himself to look behind him. Instead, he waved in the general direction of where Nick was probably standing and muttered a "thanks for dinner." Somehow he managed to keep from leaping towards the door and running towards the car, settling instead for a very hurried walk. He climbed in the back seat of Hank's car and buried his face in his hands, and when Sara and Hank got in a second later no one said a word.


...



"It would be ridiculous to call in sick, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't say ridiculous. Stupid, and irresponsible, and a little bit pathetic, but not ridiculous."

Greg knelt down to look under the bed for his left Chuck Taylor. "Thanks. You're very supportive."

"Look, Greg-hold on." He could faintly hear her ordering two venti black coffees, and he knew she had set the phone down in the passenger seat. After another moment, she returned. "I think you should open a coffee shop. I would much rather pay five dollars a cup for your coffee than this."

"Another double?"

"Yeah, triple homicide. And I'm not trying to be a bitch, it's just that I've been up to my ankles in blood and shell casings all morning, and honestly, you're being a little bit ridiculous."

Greg finally located his other shoe and sat down on the bed to put it on, cradling the phone on his shoulder. "So you would say ridiculous."

"I would say that, aside from the fact that you haven't been this paranoid about your sexuality since tenth grade, it's not like Hank took out a billboard. And yes, it was colossally stupid, but it's Nick. Even if you continue to deny that he's gay, which, again, whatever, he's obviously not homophobic. Plus, he's a good guy, and if you just talk to him and explain your reasons for staying in the closet at school, he'll understand. Christ, just talk to him. Look, I've got to go, but call me this afternoon when you get out, okay? And talk to Nick. I mean it."

"Okay, fine. I will." Greg closed his cell phone and stared at it for a second. If he called in sick, Sara would find out and kick his ass. And, as usual, she was right. He was being ridiculous. He would just find Nick, and explain the situation, and it shouldn't be a problem. Right.


...



Greg knocked lightly on Nick's office door and stuck his head inside. "Hey. You got a second?"

Nick looked up and smiled, which Greg took as a good sign. "Yeah, man. Come on in."

Greg shut the door behind him and sat down in front of Nick's desk. "I wanted to talk to you about Saturday."

"Yeah, me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah. What's up with Hank?''

Greg frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nick sat back in his chair. "I don't know. Does he seem a little...off, to you? Like, he kept rearranging things on my kitchen counters."

Greg laughed. "Yeah, I know. He has this thing about moving stuff around. It's strange."

"And then that thing with Sara's ex-boyfriend looking like my brother. What was that about?"

"I don't know, dude, I-" Greg stopped, fully processing Nick's statement. "Wait, what?"

"That thing he said, right before you guys left, about how my brother looks like Sara's ex-boyfriend. I mean, he's not a jealous guy, is he? Cos I think of Sara the same way as my sisters, and I would hate to cause problems."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Greg could hear his Papa Olaf. "Ærlighet varer lengst[1], Gregory. Never forget that." And yet.

"No, no, he's not a jealous guy. I honestly don't think he meant anything by it." Technically, that was honest. "Besides, I don't think they're all that serious."

"Good. I mean, not that, just. Yeah. I'm glad there are no problems, then." Nick grinned, and Greg attributed the ache in his chest to that, and not the liberties he took with the truth. Nick leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. "What did you want to talk about?"

"What? Oh, I just..." In the span of two seconds, Greg played the scenario a hundred ways, but he just couldn't make himself say the words. "I just wanted to say thanks. For everything. Sara had a blast, and your friends are awesome, and it was just...it was great. So, you know, thank you."

"No problem, seriously. I had a really good time. I was glad to do it."

"Okay, then. I should get going, I've got a lab to set up. But, yeah, we should do it again."

"Definitely. I'll see you later, G."

"See you, Nick."


...



Greg crossed his legs in his lap and leaned forward, grabbing a box of sesame chicken and a pair of chopsticks. He opened the box carefully, pushing the chicken around with the tip of his chopsticks.

"Greg!"

When he looked over at her, Sara was glaring at him.

"What?"

"Did you talk to Nick or not?"

Greg sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch. "Yes, I talked to him. And no, I didn't tell him I'm gay, which I know is going to be your next question."

Sara kicked him in the thigh. "If I weren't starving, I would dump this lo mein down your pants."

"Ew." Greg looked up to find Sara still glaring at him. "Please, refrain. I really like these pants."

"So, what did you do? Did you lie? Because that would officially cross the line from ridiculous to pathetic, and also shitty."

"I didn't lie. He thought Hank was talking to you, not me, and I just...I let him believe that."

"So you lied." Sara popped a carrot in her mouth, and Greg was once again amazed at how she could chew so...menacingly. It was an art, really.

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell the complete truth, is all."

"Which, if I'm not mistaken, is lying by omission."

"Sara-"

"Okay, I'll drop it. I'm just saying that eventually, he's going to find out, Greg. You're friends, we're all friends, and it's going to come up at some point."

"Or out, as the case may be."

Sara gave him small smile. "Or out. Whatever. And I just think that you're being stupid about it. I've never seen you like this before, Greg. Why in the hell does it even matter? You've never cared what people thought about you."

"I know, I just...I don't know, Sara."

"Are you sure?"

Greg set his untouched chicken down on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

Sara had what Greg called her CSI face, meaning she was looking at him in much the same way Greg assumed she looked at suspects when she had all the proof of their guilt in a folder in front of her. He tried not to squirm.

"I've got a theory, Sanders."

"I thought you people didn't work theories?"

"Shut up and listen. You? Are terrified of Nick, because you know that you could fall hard for him. In some ways, you are falling hard for him. But, admitting that you think he could be gay, or him finding out that you are gay, that scares you. Because if you know that he's gay, and he knows that you're gay, and you both know that you're perfect for each other, than you actually have to do something about it, instead of just worrying yourself to an ulcer." Sara poked Greg in the leg with her foot. "So everything is all top secret and denial and a level of paranoia that defies logic, and it's all in the name of protecting yourself from something that could be the best thing that ever happened to you."

Greg pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees, chewing on his bottom lip. "So," he said, clearing his throat. "Are we gonna watch this movie or what?

Sara's eyes softened and she leaned forward and touched Greg's arm. "Yeah." She moved to his side of the couch, leaning against his side, and Greg hit play on the DVD remote.




[1] Ærlighet varer lengst = Honesty is the best policy.

***

Next part of Devotion.