Title: Something Found
Author: Toybox
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: G
Notes: Was only supposed to be a drabble but ran towards vignette. Not really sure it is though. *shrugs* Written for faerie_lullaby because she requested someone write anything to go along with a quote that had flitted through her head while she wrote on her Psyche thingie. *grins*
Summary: They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and, briefly, he wonders why that is.

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'The eyes are the windows to the soul.'

He always wondered about that, always questioned how the eyes could be considered windows into one's very soul, and hadn't properly understood the, perhaps, hidden context behind the statement; not until he looked -really and truly looked - into the midnight-honey brown gorge of one of his best friend's eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd looked nor would it be the last, however it was this instance that the spark of recognition flared to life, and for once he understood.

Here they were standing in one of the empty labs - renovations were taking time and the equipment lost in the explosion wasn't all delivered just yet -, imbibing food and drink brought in by pretty much the entire nightshift, and some from swing, and here he was, standing perfectly still with breath caught in his throat, staring. Between chips and salsa Nicolas Stokes was hit with an epiphany.

As clichéd as it sounded, and probably was, it seemed as if all time had slowed until it stopped completely, leaving him, still breathless and reeling from the sight of what he found behind dilated pupils, with an eternity to gaze. Unabashed, look he did and feasted on the raw, genuine spirit of one Gregory Hojem Sanders; all warm smiles and kind heart, bad jokes and indubitable personality - All Greg was and would always be stared back at him and Nick couldn't help but drown.

Then the instant was gone and time moved forward again, carrying the sound of familiar voices and music that had filled the lab before. It all crashed around him and assaulted his ears making him wince. Then those beautiful, soulful eyes were gone in that blink of an eye. He was actually surprised how his heart clenched and seized in his chest at the loss. How desperately he wanted to look again into that vivid purity, how much he wanted to hold its vessel close and never let Greg go. And it hurt to think that he wouldn't be given the chance.

Nick couldn't stay here any longer, couldn't be this close, so he made his excuses with an embarrassed smile and a quiet laugh then fled. He didn't know where he was going but somehow managed to end up on the roof of the crime lab, panting and desperately trying not to give into the sorrow that threatened to swallow him whole. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and braved the warm air and the to loud crunch of gravel towards the raised edge of the building overlooking the west section. He just needed to think and grieve, and somehow cope.

"You know, jumping really isn't the answer Tex."

Greg smiled at him from the doorway when he managed to still his rapid pulse and push his heart back down from his throat. Greg. The man he just figured out he wanted so deeply, the one who's eyes drew him in and offered the soul beneath, the one he'd ran from in absolute crushing fear, was moving across the gravel towards him and Nick thought he was going to die. He couldn't help but smile gently and welcome his demise.

"Not intending to, G. Just wanted to get some fresh air." He answered back softly and turned around to again stare out across the edge. "The paint fumes ain't really as bad as before but I think I'm channeling Hodges because I swear they were starting to make me nauseas."

Greg laughed, soft and open. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a bad liar?"

"Once or twice."

"Well here I am, telling you, for a third time." A long-fingered hand moved through the space between them and skirted down the length of his arm, gently wrapping around the thin width of his wrist and tugging until Nick's hand was freed from the trap between his chest and his other arm - Greg guided it to hang loosely between them before his grip eased and those long fingers twined and wrapped around his.

Nick looked down at their hands and wondered why it felt as if they fit so perfectly. His was wide and strong, Greg's thin and long - It scared him how perfect it did feel. He licked at his lips and tore his eyes away from their hands only to stare at a point just in front of his feet, letting the heavy, but comforting, weight of his friend's grip consume him.

"Did it scare you?"

The question was out of the blue, so ambiguous, but they both knew what Greg meant. Nick shook his head and even managed to squeeze the other man's hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The last thing he wanted was for the hand to pull away, for Greg to leave, but he wasn't sure if he could tell him, to explain, what he'd seen. . .what he found.

So he turned and looked again, dragging his eyes up the length of Greg's body and settling firmly on the pale sun-kissed face, looking once again into the fathomless depths of brown.

He stared and Greg let him.

He smiled shyly and Greg returned the gesture.

He kissed his friend and Greg closed his eyes, but his soul was still bare to him. It was on the man's very breath and flowed into him on a contented sigh.

***