Title: Friday I'm in Love
By: saras-girl
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC-17
AN: Shameless slightly smutty fluff. My first attempt at Nick/Greg or in fact, fanfiction full stop.
Apologies for taking liberties by essentially moving everyone to day shift, but it didn't feel right to me this all taking place at night! R & R please, strokes and con crit equally appreciated. Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine.
Song lyrics from 'Friday I'm In Love' by The Cure
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, Nick and Greg or any of the others, more's the pity. I make nothing from this other than a nice warm glow.
Summary: At the end of a very long week, all Nick and Greg want is each other. All Catherine wants is a case to solve.

***

I don't care if Monday's blue
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too
Thursday I don't care about you
It's Friday I'm in love

The happy, jangly music was an unwelcome assault on Nick's senses and broke through his dream. Which was a shame, as it had been that one he often had, the one where he and Greg were alone on the deserted beach...smiling slowly without opening his eyes, Nick slid one hand across the bed, under the sheets, reaching out, waiting to feel Greg's smooth warm skin under his fingers. Instead, all they met were cold, wrinkled sheets. Disconcerted, his eyes snapped open and darted around the room. The harsh early morning sun streamed though Greg's flimsy white curtains and hit Nick in the eyes as he sat up and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling to himself as the memory of the previous night flowed over him.

~~~~~~

He hadn't been able to get away from the lab fast enough. He and Greg had been on conflicting cases all week and had had barely enough time for a conversation, let alone what they both really wanted. As the week went on, the glances they exchanged as they passed in the corridors became more and more agonised. They had only been seeing each other for a few weeks but it had been over five years in the making, and neither CSI could stand to waste another second.
By Thursday evening, Nick thought he would explode if he had to wait any longer to be with Greg. He was desperate to touch him, kiss him and...with some effort, he stopped that thought before it led to somewhere he couldn't deal with work. He flushed, thinking of the last time he had been driven to it, bracing himself against the stall door in the men's bathroom, eyes squeezed shut, frantically gripping his hard cock, imagining Greg's mouth wrapped around it, looking up at him with those eyes...

Nick shook his head and with some effort, forced himself to refocus on the monitor in front of him, and the casino security tapes he was supposed to be watching. Sighing heavily, he hit rewind and watched a dark haired woman step out of the elevator for what felt like the fiftieth time.

But the thoughts came again, unbidden, Greg's flawless skin, his chocolate eyes, his cries as he came, clinging to Nick, whispering how good it felt...

Jesus, Nick muttered, shifting in his chair, trying to hide his painful arousal. A delicate finger running up his back startled him. He whipped around reflexively to see who was there, and found himself staring up into the liquid eyes and killer smile of Greg Sanders.

"My case is all wrapped up." Greg spoke softly. "And yours isn't far off, I heard Sara just made a breakthrough on those phone logs."

"Ahuh." Nick was dazed, mutely drinking in Greg's image as if he hadn't seen him in years.

"So...my place, after shift?" Greg dropped down beside Nick's chair, to his eye level. His eyes were almost black with desire. Nick swallowed hard. "Don't make me wait, Stokes."

With that, he jumped up and stalked out of the AV lab, leaving Nick to follow his progress until he was out of sight, breathless and unable to stand. With renewed vigour, he pressed play again – there was no way this case was going to keep him away from Greg, not tonight.

By the time the break he needed came, Greg was nowhere to be seen. Nick made for the locker room and changed hurriedly, throwing things into his bag and slamming his locker door shut with force. As the locker door banged shut, he was mildly surprised to see Warrick standing behind it, an amused expression in his pale green eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey 'Rick," Nick replied distractedly, fidgeting with his bag strap.

"Where's the fire, man?"

Nick tried to look casual. He cleared his throat.

"Nowhere, 'Rick, no fire, just..." he trailed off, heart racing, looking over Warrick's shoulder at his escape route. Greg could have been home for hours by now...waiting, ready, nothing to do except...Nick gulped. Shifted on the spot. Noticed his friend looking at him intently, as Grissom might regard bugs in a jar.

"Good, good...I was hoping you might be up for some O/T. I could do with some help with – "

"No can do, man." Nick cut him off, slapping him on the shoulder apologetically. "I...um....have somewhere to be."

They regarded each other for a moment in silence, before Warrick's eyes lit up and he laughed.

"You have a date, don't you?"

"No!"

"You do. You've been acting kinda out of it all day, it makes sense now. You know what, she must be someone pretty special to rattle your cage like this, Stokes." Warrick was grinning now, fishing for information.

"Er...yeah," the Texan admitted, defeated. "Look, 'Rick, I gotta go, ok? Sorry about your...whatever it was."
He was already halfway into the corridor, tunnel visioned, thinking only of Greg's skin against his and his –

"No worries...it's been a while." Warrick turned and realised he was addressing thin air. Stokes was gone, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges behind him. Warrick smiled and headed back to the lab. He wondered why Nick was always so secretive about the women in his life.

**~*~**

Nick leapt out of the Denali and raced up all six flights of steps to Greg's apartment without stopping for breath. The door was open and he crashed through it, dropping his bag on the couch and looking around.

"Where are you, Greggo?" The desperation could be heard in his voice now.

In a rush of colour and movement, he was pinned up against the wall by a delighted Greg, looking edible in a bright red t-shirt and faded, threadbare jeans which only just hung on to his slender hips. His hair hung in his eyes and he was breathing hard, pushing the entire length of his warm body up against Nick's. Greg held his lover's wrists against the wall at his sides in a death grip, nose to nose, eyes liquid black.

"I'm here."

Nick smiled with relief.
"I can see that, G – " his next words were muffled by Greg's lips claiming his. Relief flooded his body as the tension of the past week dissolved and excitement spiked in the pit of his stomach. He felt like an addict waiting for a fix. Addicted to Greg Sanders.

The kiss was uncontrolled, desperate, rough. Greg's hardness pushing against his thigh. Not releasing Nick's wrists. He was surprisingly strong when aroused. The younger man shuddered as his tongue touched Nick's softly, and he felt the shudder throughout his body. He wanted so badly to touch, to make him his again.

"Let me go, Greg," he growled.

Greg paused in his frantic kissing but did not move. His eyes flamed with desire.

"No."

A small smile on his kiss-grazed lips, Greg pushed himself away from the wall so that he was no longer connected to Nick, other than at the wrists. Trying to keep his breathing regular, he stretched, arching his back, knowing the Texan's eyes were following his every move hungrily, exposing the pale skin of his flat stomach and the light trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of the jeans he was only just wearing.

"Want me?"

Greg didn't blink. His eyes burned into Nick's. The heat and pressure in his groin was too much suddenly, and not being able to touch Greg was torture. Summoning his not-inconsiderable strength, he dragged his wrists from Greg's grip and crossed the room in two long strides, one hand flat on Greg's chest, taking advantage of his surprise to push him down onto the sofa, flat on his back.
Collapsing on top of the younger man, he covered Greg's mouth with his own, tongues colliding, Greg's soft whimper as Nick ground into him. His fingers raking through his lover's blond-brown curls, pulling him closer. It wasn't enough though, it never was. Nick didn't want to wait any longer. He wanted to be inside Greg now, he ached for it.

Catching Greg's earlobe between his teeth, hot breath in his ear, he answered the question they both knew the answer to.

"Want you."

"Now? Now, please...I can't wait any more." Greg struggled to free himself and pulled Nick's shirt over his head in one swift movement, running warm hands and delicate fingers up the other man's strong back. Kissing his neck, whispering continuously, alternately pleading and forceful.

"Please Nicky...all week I've been thinking about having you inside me...please...I need you...right now. Fuck me. Now. Can't wait...please....now Nick, Clothes off. Take me...please."

Words spoken in a soft, urgent hiss, never breaking eye contact, fingertips dragging across skin. The room seemed to close down, everything other than Greg and himself became blurry. Heat, salty skin, sliding hands. Greg was all hot breath and fingernails in his back and urgency...whispering, now...now...somehow their clothes were on the floor and there was nothing separating the two men.

"I don't want to hurt you," Nick managed, breath catching in his throat as Greg pulled him exactly where he wanted him to be.

"Can't....wait....just...now....please –" his words were cut off as Nick leaned down, kissed him hard and pushed all the way inside him. Where he'd wanted to be, all week long. Long, sure, strokes, sliding his strong hands underneath Greg's back and pulling him closer, deeper, spurred on by Greg's soft moans into his ear, biting his neck and shoulders as if to temper the intensity set off by his actions. Nick wanted to drag this feeling out for as long as possible, but also wanted to just let go and fuck his Greg as hard as he could.

"Plenty of time for slow later," began his lover in a harsh whisper, as if reading his mind. "Please, just fuck me hard. I love it when you...oh...please come for me."

"Right, you asked for it." Digging his nails into Greg's shoulders, Nick drove as hard as he could into him, over and over, wanting to get as close as humanly possible to him, see his eyes as he came, that's what always pushed him over the edge. He could hardly breathe, trying to demonstrate all of his desire for Greg with every stroke, knowing he was in the right place, eliciting a sweeter, deeper, louder cry from the younger man each time, until:

"Oh my god...Nicky, I..." He stared down at Greg, felt him tighten around his cock, felt the warm sticky spray on his stomach and exploded. Greg, feeling Nick's release, pulled him down for a deep kiss, slippery, charged, tender. Breathing hard, Nick smiled and pushed Greg's damp hair back from his face, not noticing his own dark fringe dripping sweat onto the face of the sated man below him. Greg didn't care, he wanted to fall asleep just like this.

**~*~**

The rest of the night was dreamlike, blurry. After the initial urgent need, they could spend the rest of the evening slowly exploring, kissing, teasing, watching. Nick could watch Greg sleep for hours. It was one of the only times he wasn't talking and he looked beautiful.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," he whispered softly, feeling safe because he knew Greg couldn't hear him. He knew it was too soon to say that, even after all those years...wasn't it? Besides, the rejection would kill him. He entangled his fingers in Greg's dishevelled hair and curled protectively around him before allowing his eyes to close.

~~~~~

As he rose from the cold bed, shielding his eyes from the light, Nick realised how much he ached and smirked to himself. For all the right reasons.

Monday you can fall apart
Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart
Thursday doesn't even start
It's Friday, I'm in love

Nick knew the song, though it wasn't really his style. It wasn't Greg's either, which was strange. Most of what Greg liked was ear bleeding rock. The music was getting louder as he proceeded through the house, and as he stopped outside the bathroom, not only did he see steam pouring out from under the door, but he could hear something which made him grin broadly. Greg was singing.

"Saturday, wait,
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday never hesitates

I don't care if Monday's black
Tuesday, Wednesday heart attack
Thursday never looking back
It's Friday I'm in love,"

Only Greg would find a way to have music in his bathroom. In a matter of seconds Nick was opening the door to the shower cubicle and stepping in, pressing himself against a soaking wet Greg from behind. Startled, Greg slid around to face him, looking adorably, slightly embarrassed to have been caught singing in the shower with such enthusiasm. It was a good job he wasn't insecure. At least, not about things like that. He grinned, delighted to suddenly have a wet naked man in his shower. He was sure that most people who knew the buttoned-up Texan would never expect him to be so spontaneous.

"What's with the song, Greggo? Not your usual taste." Nick laced his fingers through Greg's and moved closer under the spray, allowing his dark hair to get wet. Greg watched appreciatively for a moment.

"You can never get enough,
Enough of this stuff,
It's Friday
I'm in love,"

Greg sang along softly, one hand drawing Nick close and the other pushing Nick's wet hair out of his eyes. Eyes that were questioning.

"Because it is. And I am," he said simply.

Silence, except for the hiss of the water around them. Greg's heart was racing, though he tried not to let it show on his face. Should I not have said that? God, I hope I haven't freaked him out...he's not saying anything.

Nick's face was unreadable. He just stared, unmoving. Greg was stricken. Too much, you idiot, too honest, too flippant, too soon...

Suddenly Nick stirred into action, closing the distance between them. Hands firm on wet skin, fingers running over old scars with gossamer tenderness, making Greg's eyes prickle at the lightness of the other man's touch. Hands sliding up the back of his neck, trembling, cradling his head and pulling him in for an unhurried kiss. Lips lingering on the corner of Greg's mouth, feeling his smile through the running water, his breath catching at the depth of feeling, and his euphoria at having his feelings returned, impossible to hide. Not too soon. Perfect.

"Love you, Greg."

**~*~**

"Dammit, we are going to be so late," cursed Nick, trying to button up his shirt and comb his wet hair at the same time. Greg, somehow dressed and looking exactly as he normally did, albeit with wet, unstyled hair, watched from the edge of the bed.

"You're doing it all wrong. Your buttons." He stood up and purposefully slowly undid all of Nick's buttons, stealing a kiss from him as he deftly refastened them in the correct configuration. Flashed him a smile.

"Can't we stay here?" A raised eyebrow. "I know, I know, work. I'll see you there. Be gone!"

Greg laughed and watched his Nick Stokes run down the stairs and climb into the Denali. That man loves me. Me.

**~*~**

Nick drove fast, but carefully, the streets clear for once so he knew he would actually arrive at the crime lab on time. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, humming Greg's song slightly tunelessly under his breath.

He couldn't keep the smile from his face as he relived the morning. Greg had said he was in love with him, and then had washed him from head to foot, an experience he had found frustratingly erotic considering the lack of time they had, with something that smelled like lemons and...he sniffed his forearm experimentally...mint? He shrugged, slamming the car door behind him as he strolled across the parking lot into work.

**~*~**

Catherine Willows was bored. She couldn't quite believe she had allowed that thought to cross her mind unchecked, but it was the truth. In her ten years experience as a CSI, she could count on one hand the number of occasions she had had chance to feel bored. She drummed her fingers impatiently on her glass desktop, listening for a moment to the clack-clack-clack of her fingernails on the surface and idly hoping for something to happen. There had been no let-up for over a week, case after case after case, that feeling of there not being enough hours in the day. And then this morning....nada. Perhaps all the criminals in Vegas had turned over a new leaf. In which case she would be soon out of a job.
Smiling ruefully, she got up and leaned against the doorframe of her office, scanning the maze of corridors and glass boxes for something of interest. Anything.

Grissom, his feet up on his desk, engrossed in a book about moths. What else was new.

Sara, pacing backwards and forwards in front of the Trace lab, chewing her nails and looking up and down the hallway. For who, Catherine wondered, momentarily intrigued, until Hodges appeared around the corner and was immediately engaged in conversation by Sara.

Warrick, walking unhurriedly past the break room, two cups of coffee in his hands. Catherine wondered if one of them was for her, was about to call out to him, until her head was turned by someone else.

Nick Stokes. Or, more specifically, Nick Stokes looking like she had never seen him before. Walking towards her from the opposite direction, he seemed like a different person to the tightly wound, bad-tempered colleague she had suffered the rest of the week. He'd been nothing short of a nightmare the past few days, but all the tension he had been carrying seemed to have dissipated. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he looked....happy. Contented. He had a spring in his step that she knew usually came from – oho, that was it.

Catherine smiled wolfishly and tucked a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. Nick Stokes was involved with someone, and she was going to find out who. Knowing her secretive colleague as she did, she knew that unravelling this particular mystery would be a challenge, but that was ok. She liked a challenge.

***


"Hey, Warrick! One of those coffees for me?"

"Sorry Cath, they're not even for me!" laughed Warrick as he turned the corner out of sight, raising one hand, without turning, as a silent apology.

She slipped silently into the break room and stood, resting fingertips on the tabletop, watching Nick spoon Blue Hawaiian into the coffee pot, a small smile on his usually serious lips. Lips which, Catherine observed with a grin, were moving along to a song that only Nick could hear.

"...but Friday never hesitates," he sang softly, hitting his teaspoon on the edge of his mug with an uncharacteristic flourish.

Catherine couldn't help but let loose a giggle. Her hand flew to her mouth immediately but it was too late. Nick spun around and flushed violently when he saw her.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." Catherine smiled crookedly, placing hands on her hips. "Using Greg's coffee? Do you have a death wish? And since when were you into the Cure?"

Nick stood for a moment, still clutching the teaspoon, thinking.

"It's just one of those first-thing-you-hear-when-you-wake-up kinda things, y'know?" He grinned, showing white teeth and crinkles around his eyes. "And what Greg doesn't know won't hurt him."

"That logic I can get along with," replied Catherine, idly thinking that she imagined Nick's choice of waking up music to be more...countrified. Unless it wasn't his choice. "You gonna make me a cup of that?"

"Sure."
Nick was looking at her as though she had gone mad. Closing the distance between them to take the mug from Nick's hand, her keen nose picked up a scent that was out of place and yet seemed strangely familiar. Brow furrowed, she took a step into his personal space and sniffed. Nick froze.

"Umm....Catherine...?"

Her head snapped up.

"You smell like lemons," she accused. For a split second, she thought she thought she saw panic etched across Nick's handsome features. Just for a second.

"What?"

Lemons and something else. It was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"You look pleased with yourself today, Nicky." Her eyes flashed playfully, dangerously. "Who'd you see last night?"

His eyes widened.

"Ah, no one Catherine, I was home alone last night. Look, ah, take this." He pushed the coffee cup into her hands and strode across the room. "I have a lot of work to do. Better get to it."

He pointed vaguely down the corridor and bolted.

Catherine lifted her cup to her lips, eyes narrowed. Just follow the evidence, she told herself, breathing in the aroma of forbidden coffee.


**~*~**

Nick sped down the corridor, staring straight ahead, mind racing. What was Catherine up to? Why was everyone so intent on uncovering his private life? I wasn't that he didn't want anyone to know about Greg, it really wasn't. He just wasn't ready. He felt protective of the fledgling relationship and was not ready for it to be exposed to the analytical minds of his co-workers.
What would their reactions be? Would they laugh? Would they give him ten good reasons why it was bound to end in disaster? He knew that Greg didn't much care who knew, but then that was Greg. As far as the other CSIs knew, they were both straighter than straight, and Nick had a feeling that this particular revelation would be somewhat of a shock. He didn't want anything to ruin his mood today.

He stopped, realising he had just been walking without seeing, and was now standing outside the men's bathroom. He pushed the door open and walked straight into Warrick. Now what?

"Hey, Nicky. You look like all your Christmases came at once. I take it the date went well?"

"What da – oh yeah. Yeah, it was ok."

Warrick laughed warmly. Nick still had one hand on the door handle.

"More than, I'd say." He looked Nick up and down. Nick said nothing, waited, trying not to incriminate himself. He could see that his friend's razor sharp mind was working overtime.

"Ok dude. Your shirt is creased. Your hair is wet. You have not stopped smiling since you got on shift this morning." He ticked the points off on his fingers. "You didn't go home. You showered in a hurry and came straight to work. You got lucky. And I have no idea why you are even trying to deny it to me, Stokes."

Nick sighed resignedly. Catherine had noticed his improved mood. Now Warrick too. Ok, damage limitation. No harm in them knowing he'd hooked up with someone. If he lied about it, they wouldn't let it go.

"Fine, I spent the night. So the, ah, good mood is noticeable?"

Warrick laughed and slapped Nick on the back.

"Just a little. What's she like?"

Nick's mind flashed back to the previous night, the morning, the shower. His eyes glinted.

"Amazing."
He turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving Warrick standing there, wondering why he had even come in.

**~*~**

Greg Sanders was up a ladder.

He'd arrived minutes after Nick, and was trying, as hard as possible, to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, the memory of Nick standing in his shower just an hour before, naked, wet, words of love on his lips, would not be expunged from his mind. His stomach was a seething mass of excitement and he glowed with wellbeing, unable to keep the smile from his face. He knew that this, on top of the ill-advised cups of coffee, was likely to explode outwards any moment. As such he had elected to isolate himself, and review some evidence that had been at the bottom of his list all week. It was somewhere in one of these many, many boxes. Might as well start at the top. It was safe at the top of the ladder. He didn't need to speak to anyone and he could daydream in peace.

"99 boxes of evidence to search, 99 boxes of evidence....you take one down and look for the thing, 98 boxes of evidence to search..."

Greg was in a singing mood. Almost unconsciously, as he replayed the morning in his head, he slipped into humming along to its soundtrack. Softly, under his breath at first but eventually losing himself in it, dancing, as well as a man can dance whilst standing at the top of a ladder. He was totally immersed in his own world, until:

"Sanders. What are you doing?" A female voice.

Greg tried to turn, and half slid, half fell down the ladder onto the floor. Righting himself and pulling his black blazer straight, he grinned at Wendy. Her expression was one of disdain, tempered by amusement.

"Nothing!" He struck a pose. "Except -

Monday you can hold your head
Tuesday, Wednesday stay in bed
Or Thursday watch the walls instead
It's Friday I'm in love..."

He grabbed the bemused lab tech by the hand and twirled her around, away from him and back again, before he let go, flashed an unhinged smile and disappeared down the hall. Wendy watched, startled, slipping her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. She raised her eyes and met those of Sara Sidle, standing across the hall in the DNA lab. Sara shrugged and simply mouthed: "Sanders."

**~*~**

Greg walked quickly, still humming under his breath. He ran slender fingers through his still-damp hair. Passing Trace, he caught sight of Nick, leaning on the counter and talking to Hodges. His excitement threatened to fizz over like an effervescent tablet reacting with water. It took every muscle in his body not to stop walking, but as Nick's head turned, seeing the movement, they made eye contact. Greg laughed, dizzy with the connection. It was like electricity to his spine. Hodges turned away momentarily and Greg slowed, swinging around for a few steps, walking backwards, never breaking the stare.

"Love you," he mouthed silently, smiling his delight at the other man's blush. He turned on his heel and disappeared from view, just as Hodges faced Nick again, proffering a printout.

"Your results, Stokes. Stokes! What the hell is the matter with you?" David Hodges raised his eyes to the ceiling. CSIs...

**~*~**

Five minutes later, Catherine stalked into the break room and sat down heavily opposite Warrick. He didn't look up from the file open on his lap. She sighed pointedly.

" 'Sup Catherine?"

"I have a case I can't solve."
She was almost pouting. Warrick's attention was caught. He closed his file.

"Uh, Catherine? We have no cases. It's weird, I'll grant that, but it's true." There was a pause.

"I want to know what Nicky's up to."

A slow smile spread across Warrick's face.

"Or who."

"You've noticed too?"

"Hard not to, Cath. Seven years working together and - it's a small thing, but – not once have I seen him come to work without fixing his hair. He is vainer than he cares to admit, man." Warrick paused. "And he's so happy." He shook his head.

"He was singing at the start of shift," Catherine offered. Her colleague's eyes widened.

"Damn." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "He had a date last night, he admitted to that much. Also admitted he stayed the night when I put on a little pressure."

"Did he say – "

" – Who? Nope." Warrick thought for a moment. "I think it's someone we know. That's why he's being so cagey."

"Even so," came a slightly distant voice from across the room. "It's not like Greggo to be coy about his conquests."

Catherine and Warrick exchanged a glance. Catherine shifted in her seat so that she could see Sara. They had barely even registered her presence in the room, so silently she had been sitting at the long table, twisting leftover noodles from a takeout box around her fork, her head in a forensics journal.

"Don't even start on how can I eat chinese food at ten in the morning," she warned, noticing the older woman's expression.

"It's not that. Though, granted, it is disgusting." Sara made a face and sucked a noodle into her mouth. "What are you saying about Greg? What has he got to do with this?"

"I was only half listening, I'm sorry. But...isn't that who you were talking about?"

"Why would you think that?" asked Warrick, resting his elbows on his knees.

Sara looked confused. "Well, he has wet hair – very strange for Greg, he's singing – not quite so strange, he looks disturbingly happy. Even for Sanders." She waved her fork in the air to demonstrate. "He was spinning poor Wendy around the storage room a few minutes ago."

Catherine allowed her mouth to fall open in an amused smile. "What was he singing?"

Sara's dark eyebrows knitted and she set her fork down.

"Um, Friday I'm In Love, I think. At least that's what it sounded like. It was weird because it was so...un-Greg. I guess Black Flag is kind of difficult to dance to at the top of a ladder." She shrugged.

Catherine felt Warrick's question before he made a sound. Held up her hand to silence him.

"First thing I heard when I woke up," she whispered. "That's what he said." She got up and walked around the table. She snapped her fingers. "Lemons....lemons and something else. It's Sanders! I couldn't place it, but it is, it's Sanders!"

Warrick said nothing. He seemed to be focusing very hard on the middle distance. Sara threw her hands up in frustration.

"For god's sake, Catherine! Care to give me a clue what you're talking about?"

Catherine shook her head, eyes sparkling. "I don't have enough yet. But I think you just broke the case, Sara. Thanks!"

"Ahuh...sure," Sara offered uncertainly.

Catherine perched on the edge of the table and smiled ingratiatingly at Sara.

"I need you to do something for me."

**~*~**

Nick watched him from a distance of about three feet. Unseen, staring at the soft curls at the nape of Greg's neck. Thinking of nothing but pressing his lips to that spot, making Greg gasp. Sliding strong hands down his arms and whispering heatedly into his ear. His mouth went dry. His heart was racing.

Moving forwards slowly, silently, he stopped just inches away, not touching but feeling the heat of Greg's body through his clothes. His erection almost brushing against the back of Greg's thigh as he worked. Looking intently into an open box. Nick pressed one finger between Greg's shoulderblades, felt him stiffen at the touch.

"Don't turn around." Greg's hands stilled and Nick could hear his breathing falter.

"God, you drive me crazy," Nick groaned, brushing lips against the sensitive back of the other man's neck. Greg gulped and concentrated on staring ahead, focusing on the wall.

"Nick,' Greg whispered, hands gripping the edge of the counter so hard, his knuckles turned white. But Nick was gone. Greg closed his eyes and tried to stop the room from spinning around him. He looked back into the box, as if seeing the contents for the first time. He could not wait for this shift to be over.

**~*~**

"Let me get this straight." Sara leaned over the back of her chair to look at Catherine. "You want me to go and smell Greg?"

"Exactly."

Warrick spoke at last, rubbing his chin with the palm of his hand.

"You're not seriously suggesting that Nick....and...Greg..." he trailed off. "No way man, no way."

"I have a theory. I just need to back it up." She shrugged, turning back to Sara. "That's why I need to know what Greg smells like today."

"He smells like lemon and mint. And he's insane."

All three CSIs whipped around to see Wendy standing in the open doorway, a stack of files in her arms.

"How do you know?"

"Why do you want to know?" The lab tech shot back. Catherine shot her a look.

Wendy sighed. "I got a pretty good whiff of him when he was throwing me around the store room earlier." She coloured. "That isn't how it sounds."

She turned away, embarrassed, dumped her files on the table and helped herself to coffee before continuing.

"I made the mistake not long ago of asking him what kind of shower gel he used. Dumb question, I know. Anyway, I got chapter and verse with three choruses of Greg Sanders is a smug bastard. Wish I'd never asked." She rolled her eyes. "He mixes lemon and mint flavour gels." Her free hand made air quotes. "He 'makes' it himself."

Catherine gave a short burst of laughter. "That'll do it!" She crossed her arms and looked down at Warrick.

"Greg has wet hair, Nick has wet hair. They are both disturbingly happy. They are both singing. Which in itself, is weird, but not only that, they are both singing the same obscure 80s song – which Nick claims was the first thing he heard when he woke up. Greg smells of lemon and mint. Nick smells of lemon and mint. Not a coincidence, because," – she indicated Wendy with a sweep of her hand – "evidently, Greg's smell is unique. He creates it. Nick has been on a date. He admits to spending the night with that date last night. They slept together, woke up together and showered together. That is what Nicky looks so happy about. It's Greg!"

She finished with a flourish and dropped back down into the chair she had previously vacated. She crossed one leg over the other. The relief was evident in her face. There were few things she hated more than not knowing.

"Jesus," Warrick exhaled.

Wendy said nothing. Her eyes were like saucers and she clutched her coffee cup in silence. Sara tapped her fork against the table top and laughed, shaking her head.

"You know," Warrick mused, it kinda makes sense now I think about it. Nothing G does surprises me any more, but Nick..."

Greg rushed through the door, hanging onto the frame, still a crackling ball of nervous, breathless energy.

"Little heads up guys. Grissom's on the warpath. Well, not the warpath exactly, but he has assignments for everyone," Greg paused, noticing the expressions of his four colleagues. His eyes slid from Catherine to Sara to Warrick to Wendy, and back again.

"What is it? Did I forget to put on clothes again?" He laughed nervously and shoved his hands in his pockets. Catherine noticed the slight flush to his face when Nick appeared behind him and made to enter the break room.

"So...everyone's in here," Nick stated, unnecessarily. Catherine rose.

"You're so busted. Both of you."

Nick raised an eyebrow and Greg looked at his shoes, trying hard to suppress the twitch appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't even try and pretend you don't know what she means, Stokes," spoke Warrick. "You almost had us fooled, but you forgot one important factor."

"Yeah. A bored Catherine," smiled Sara.

"And, um, lemon mint shower gel," muttered Wendy, setting her cup down and gathering her files from the table.
Greg and Nick regarded her with shock, and then matching sheepish smiles. Nick looked over Greg's shoulder at the other CSIs. They were smiling. A little smug, but smiling. He saw genuine pleasure in their faces, and that sinking feeling of panic he expected just didn't come.

Grissom broke the silence at last.

"Ok everyone, cases please." He walked into the room, past Nick and Greg without comment, passing out sheets of paper containing assignments. He paused, noticing the atmosphere. "What is going on in here this morning? Crimes have been committed...get to work please." He looked exasperated.

With that, the tension disappeared and Nick found himself alone in the room, slightly dazed. He could hear Greg chatting animatedly to Sara outside. Catherine hung back in the doorway.

"Does he make you happy?" Her voice was soft.

Nick smiled warmly and turned to face his friend. "Yeah."

She flashed her teeth briefly and touched Nick lightly on the arm. Turned to leave.

"Cath? How did you...?"

Catherine smiled and tilted her head on one side.

"The evidence never lies, Nicky."

FIN

***