Title: Heart Print Boxers
By: flipflopadd1ct
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: R
Summary: An impromptu Valentine's Day celebration.

***

In retrospect, Nick should have expected it.

He was just minding his own business, just moseying through the lab with an evidence bag in his hand when - like Greg often does - Greg caught his eye.

Better yet, Greg's ass caught his eye.

Of course, this event as a whole was nothing usual (Nick spent a lot of time observing and appreciating Greg's ass, after all), but a single aspect of it was unusual, a single aspect of it that was fully, undeniably Greg.

Apparently, Greg had dropped something, because he was on the floor on bended knee, hunched over and, perhaps, picking up a sheaf of papers. In the process his t-shirt had ridden up, while his jeans had slipped down.

And there, in the gap between the hem of Greg's gray tee and the top of his belt, Nick had an unobstructed view of Greg's boxers.

They were bright red, drawing Nick's eye like a beacon even more so than they usually would, and peppered with a repetitive, white print.

Hearts.

Greg was wearing heart print boxers.

Suddenly, Nick remembered what day it was, and it all made perfect sense.

February 14th. Valentine's Day.

Of course Greg would wear heart print boxers on Valentine's Day.

Nick was still transfixed when, all of a sudden, Greg was up and moving down the hall, having finished picking up whatever it was he had dropped, and Nick was shaken out of his daze. But not before he saw Greg drop a hand to pull his shirt down over his waistband, finally hiding his festive boxers from view.

Discreetly, Nick looked to his left and to his right - but he didn't see anyone around. Most importantly, it didn't look like anyone saw him staring - including Greg.

Nick continued on down the hall, his thoughts now on his own choice of underwear. He was wearing black boxer briefs today. How boring. How uninspired. How me, he conceded.

Nick dropped his trace bag off with Hodges, then headed for the break room. Rummaged in the fridge (thankfully free of any of Grissom's experiments) for a Coke, dropped into a chair and took a sip.

He was thinking about the holiday. He was thinking about his boxer briefs. He was thinking about Greg. (He was not thinking about how his dick was on the verge of getting hard.)

Nick had no plans for Valentine's Day. And as far as he knew, neither did Greg.

For some reason, the two of them didn't make plans. They weren't dating, per se, but they were something - if you can call fucking every so often (and, recently, more frequently) "something."

They could have planned a get-together or a date, Nick realized, even if it was just sex. Who'd turn that down?

The image of Greg innocently bending over, showing his befitting boxers off to the world (or at least to Nick), entered Nick's mind again and then he had an idea.

A very good idea, he thought.

Now he needed to make a stop or two, after work, before carrying out his plan.

~

Nick ended up making three stops:

Target. The grocery store. And his apartment.

At Target, it took Nick about five, ten minutes tops to find what he needed. Same with the grocery store, although they were running pretty low on alcohol. Luckily he managed to find some suitable wine - nothing too shitty nor too fancy - and then he sped home.

He changed as quickly as he could. At first, Nick couldn't decide on his jeans, and it took several long minutes in front of the mirror for him to make his decision. A dark wash, they were one of his favorite pairs - and he knew Greg liked them too. Satisfied with how his ass and cock stood out, he decided to keep them on.

Nick definitely would change his shirt, though. He pulled the current top - a sweater - up and over his head and tossed it into his hamper, then searched for the shirt he knew he wanted to wear. A deep red, it fit him better than probably any other shirt he owned, and it matched his jeans.

Plus, Greg loved the shirt as well.

Sitting in his truck, Nick debated whether or not he should call Greg, let him know he was coming.

His hand was hovering over his phone when - nah. Let it be a surprise.

~

Nick hurried up the steps of Greg's apartment building, bottle of wine in hand. In the process he almost knocked over Greg's neighbor, Mrs. Brittle, who gave Nick a small, knowing smile.

Nick threw the door on the fourth floor landing open, burst into the empty hallway. Adrenaline pumped through him. Greg had no idea what was coming.

Outside of apartment 409, Nick leaned casually (seductively, even) against the door frame and knocked three times.

Greg opened the door and promptly blurted out the word "Shit!"

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too," Nick smirked, then pushed his way inside. He noticed, amusedly, that Greg hadn't changed since work.

"I thought we weren't doing anything tonight," Greg said, head cocked to the side.

"I had a change of heart." A shrug. "Wine?"

"Well, fuck, yeah. But this is a surprise. And now I feel underdressed," Greg called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Don't worry about it. You look good as ever."

God, Nick was giddy. Settled on Greg's leather couch, Nick knew he had a grin the size of, well, Texas plastered on his face.

Greg then reappeared with two glasses, and Nick took the liberty of filling them.

They were empty again within seconds.

"So," Greg grinned, "are you over here just so you can get laid?"

"Yeah. But I'm sure you don't mind."

"Fuck no."

Greg leaned over and kissed Nick, blindly setting his wine glass down on the table. Nick followed his example, let Greg push him down until he was lying flat, let Greg take the lead because that was exactly what Nick wanted.

Greg made short work of Nick's scarlet shirt, his mouth following the path of his fingers and kissing each bit of exposed skin as it appeared. Then Greg pulled it out of Nick's jeans but didn't pull it off, letting it hang just past Nick's shoulders (a look Nick knew that Greg liked), and Greg undid Nick's belt.

With Greg's warm breath on his abs and one hand palming the bulge of Nick's erection through his jeans, Greg popped open the button, slid down the zipper - and stopped.

Nick's open jeans exposed a triangle of familiar fabric - red with white hearts.

"How did you know?" Greg asked, shocked. He quickly scrambled off of Nick and stood, undoing the button-fly of his jeans and shoving them down, revealing his own matching boxers, tented near the fly by his hard cock.

"Saw you today, bent over in the hallway. You gotta wear longer shirts or something, Greggo," Nick chuckled.

"This is - this is so, so fucking hot."

"Well, that was the response I was hoping for."

Greg tossed his shirt away, then pulled Nick's jeans off his legs. After he pulled his own cock out of his boxers and did the same to Nick, Greg climbed back on top of him.

"This is so fucking hot," Greg repeated against Nick's lips as he dipped his hips, dragging his cock against Nick's.

And when Greg reached down and took Nick's cock into his mouth, Nick groaned a broken "Happy Valentine's Day" in response.

It certainly was.

***