Title: In The Neon Light
By: it-glitters
Fandom, Pairing: CSI: Vegas: Nick/Warrick
Rating: R
Length: Just shy of 3000
Written for: sandersyager
Prompt: Established relationship, dealing with Warrick's emotional reactions after one of Nick's near death experiences, preferably with Warrick resistant to allowing Nick to take care of him.
Disclaimer: Even Santa couldn't cure my debt, which I wouldn't have if I owned anything...
Beta: chemfishee
Spoilers: Set before, during and after Stalker.
Summary: Warrick was a good man. A good CSI. A good lover. But... a good boyfriend? That was a question for the ages.

***

In the beginning
 
Petty machismo. That was how the whole mess had started - a fight - a stupid, minor, insignificant fight. Nick had wanted one of two things - either for them to share time between their two homes or for them to move in together. Warrick was too damn stubborn to relent to either demand. That was why Nick had gotten the extended cable package - he was trying to get something that Warrick would have liked. He'd purchased it thinking he wasn't enough for Warrick, that incentive was needed to keep the other man's attention. It wasn't like that, though. Warrick just liked his own space.
 
Warrick wished he could have given Nick some warning about his habits, but it happened so fast. They had gone from playful banter over who would make level three first, to animosity over what had happened to Holly Gribbs, to accidental lovers.
 
Amazingly, it was Nick who had made the first move one night over a few drinks. Warrick had invited Nick over, and they had been shooting the breeze over a few beers when Nick had placed his hand on Warrick's thigh. Warrick thought Nick was drunk, but there were six beers on the coffee table - three each and Nick's third was mostly full. There was no way that Nick was drunk. Nick knew full and well what he was doing and he wanted to do it.
 
Warrick had stared at him, trying to form words. "What are you doing, Nicky?"
 
"Why aren't you stopping me?" Nick asked boldly.
 
Warrick placed his hand on top of Nick's and slid them both to his crotch. "I didn't know this was necessarily... mutual?"
 
"So, it's mutual then?"
 
"What part don't you understand, Nick?" Their lips were dangerously close to touching. Warrick pushed his tongue out and wet his lips.
 
"Am I being too forward?" Nick asked. It was a moot point. Warrick was hard. And he knew it.
 
Warrick closed the gap between them and demanded entrance into Nick's mouth with his tongue. They wound up in the bedroom, but they didn't have sex. Not really. They had barely managed to get their clothes off as they groped each other. A few feverish thrusts and both came relatively quickly. Nick had spent the night.
 
Maybe Nick thought that their dynamic would have changed after that. That Warrick would somehow become more open about his life. Warrick was shocked by how long Nick was willing to wait for something that would never happen.
 
Stalker
 
Nick started his shift trying to collect every one of the Crime Stopper letters. He knew Sanders had seen it, but he was pretty sure that Greg was the only one. He shoved the pages into his locker when his cell went off.
 
Once at the crime scene, he couldn't stop staring at the body. It was so familiar to him. Another random coincidence, it shouldn't have seemed out of place. It happened to him every day. He did his job and tried to push it all to the back of his mind.
 
*****

Back at the lab, Nick looked down at his shirt. He couldn't believe that the dry cleaners had lost his clothes. Again. And it wasn't like Warrick would ever lend him anything - he was a little too paranoid and a little too possessive. Plus, if Catherine noticed that he was wearing the same shirt more then once this week, she would definitely notice if he and Warrick were exchanging shirts.
 
He had to find Sara and Warrick, per Grissom's instructions. He started to the break room, where he could hear Sara and Warrick laughing. They had that damn newsletter.
 
"Who wrote this?" Warrick laughed as Nick entered the room.
 
"You're kidding me, right?" Nick asked, announcing his presence.
 
"Nick Stokes, Crime Stopper," Warrick read as he and Sara continued to laugh. Nick gave a half-hearted sarcastic laugh. Warrick looked at him. "You went Hollywood on me, man."
 
"And I quote," Sara continued, "in his off time, he enjoys creating and inventing toys." She sniggered at him. "That's fascinating. What kind of toys do you make, Nick?"
 
Nick shook his head. "I thought I got my hands on all those departmental newsletters. Where'd you get those?" Nick took the sheet from them and ignored their attempts at puppy dog eyes.
 
"Greg," Sara replied, finally revealing their source.
 
"Yeah, that figures," Nick said listlessly. He should have known. "All right, Grissom wants us to divide and conquer. Blond hair for you, Warrick," he said as he tossed the bag in the direction of the other man.
 
"I do love a blond," Warrick joked, even if Nick knew that he preferred brunettes.
 
"Sara," Nick said, gesturing to her, "you're on phone records."
 
"Yay," Sara replied sarcastically.
 
Nick crumpled the newsletter and chucked it into the trash as he walked out.
 
"Hey! I wasn't done reading that!" Warrick called after him.
 
"Yes, you are."
 
He was going to have to kill Sanders. That was the only logical thing to do. That, or talk to him man to man.
 
As he headed to the DNA lab, he wondered why Warrick said that he loved a blond. He tried to think of a valid reason, but none came to him. He just added it to the list of Warrick's quirks that he didn't understand.
 
*****

Nick wished that he could remember something about who had thrown him through the window, but he had been so busy staring at the glove that he hadn't even heard anyone. He hadn't even had time to turn around. There was just enough time to duck his head and brace for impact. He remembered hearing Warrick shout his name from a distance, but then everything went dark.
 
*****

Warrick felt useless just standing around. He hadn't even managed to get a glimpse of the perp. And now Nick was in the hospital, and there wasn't a damn thing to show for it.
 
The doctor came out of Nick's room, and Warrick could see him just laying there. They all huddled around the doctor, anticipating the worst. Nick was alive, but he was in bad shape. No one could be sent sailing through a second story window and come out unscathed.
 
The doctor looked down at his chart. "Concussion, two cracked ribs, sprained wrist, five stitches to the forehead. It could have been a lot worse," he reported.
 
"But he's going to all right?" Warrick interjected.
 
"He needs his rest," the doctor replied. "But I don't see why he can't go home relatively soon."
 
"Thank you, doctor," Grissom said. The doctor gave them all a polite nod and left.
 
Warrick started to pace. "Damn it," he swore angrily. "Grissom, this guy was right there. I could have had him."
 
"You helped out Nick," Grissom replied. "That was the right thing to do."
 
"Doesn't feel like the right thing," Warrick replied glumly without looking at his boss.
 
"You know, Nick was alone," Catherine chimed in. "The stalker could have killed him and didn't..."
 
Grissom perked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I wonder why. Let's go back there."
 
Grissom and Catherine made to leave. "I'm going with you," Warrick said as he tried to join them, but Grissom restrained him.
 
"No, no. You need to calm down a little. Talk to Nick when he wakes up." Then Gil gave Sara a look that was easily interpreted as watch him, and Warrick had to fight to keep himself from saying anything more.
 
He hated Grissom just then. Sitting around and coddling Nick wasn't going to get them anywhere.
 
Fallout
 
Warrick tipped the last of his beer into his mouth, not caring if it was mostly backwash. A good boyfriend, a good friend for that matter, would have offered Nick his couch at least. The worst part was that Nick obviously had been waiting for the invitation, turning Catherine down and looking meaningfully at Warrick. Warrick had just offered to drive him to the hotel.
 
It had been a silent ride, both of them having too much to say that it was easier to say nothing at all. Warrick stopped in front of the hotel and didn't even cut the engine.
 
"You need anything?" Warrick asked as he popped the lever for the trunk release.
 
Nick shook his head silently and grimaced as he got out of the car and retrieved his own bag from the trunk. He shut the trunk and gave a gentle tap on the roof. Warrick sped off without a second glance.
 
Nick checked into the hotel, trying to mask the pain caused by the simple action of removing his wallet.
 
"What happened to you?" the man at the desk asked as he checked Nick in. "Lose a fight? On the run from the law?"
 
Nick let top of his LVPD ID peek out of his wallet. "Just a rough night. Can I get my room?"
 
The man nodded. "289. Second floor. The stairs are on your right." He handed Nick the keys and went back to his chair.
 
 "Put a Do Not Disturb on my phone would you?"
 
The man nodded, and Nick started up the stairs. Not one of the finer establishments in Vegas, Nick thought. It didn't really surprise him, given that the PD was footing the bill.
 
At least it was a non-smoking room. The air was stale, the bed looked hard, the pillows were lumpy, but at least it looked clean. Nick knew better, but he popped a Vicodin to ease the pain and forget about the day's events.
 
*****

Warrick drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He had gotten one block before getting bogged down behind a collision that had taken out the traffic signals. He cursed and tried to look at the scene. He knew that he wasn't going to be moving for a while, so he picked up his cell phone and dialed the hotel, knowing that Nick's cell had been broken in the chaos at his house.
 
"Desert Strip Motel," the cashier answered.
 
"Hey, this is Warrick Brown. I work with Nick Stokes. Connect me to his room, please."
 
"Sorry, Mr. Brown, but Mr. Stokes asked not to be disturbed."
 
Dammit, Warrick cursed internally, realizing he would have to actually go back and knock on Nick's door. "Fine. What room is he in?"
 
"Listen, mister, I told you too much already when I said he was here. You ain't getting nothing more unless you come in here and show me a badge."
 
The line went dead just as Warrick eased his way through the intersection. All thoughts of going back were pushed aside. He didn't even know what he would have said if he had gone back.
 
So he was at home, alone, and Nick was alone in a hotel room, probably in pain, maybe just wanting to talk for a while. Wracked with guilt, Warrick tossed his beer bottle into the recycling box and idly made a note about needing to remember to take it out the curb. He grabbed his car keys from the dish, knowing that he was willingly going back to Nick.
 
*****

"You the one who answers the phone?" Warrick asked as he walked into the small manager's office.
 
"What of it?" the man responded without looking up.
 
Warrick pulled his badge and placed it on the counter. "Warrick Brown. We spoke," he said flatly. The man looked up and straightened up the second he saw the glint of the badge.
 
"289. Follow the stairs up," he responded quickly.
 
"Thanks." Warrick left the office and found the narrow stairwell. The PD really hadn't broken the bank to give Nick a temporary place to stay. He wondered if it would be worthwhile to see if Nick's homeowner's insurance would pay out more than the department.
 
Warrick tapped on the door to room 289, hoping that Nick was still awake. It had been about an hour and a half since he had first driven off. It took a few minutes, but a drowsy looking Nick finally opened the door.
 
"Jesus, Nick," Warrick reprimanded as he pushed his way in and latched the extra locks. "Did you even check to see who it was before you opened the door?"
 
Nick collapsed on the bed, still fully dressed. The blankets hadn't been disturbed; if Nick had been sleeping, he had just passed out on top of the bed.
 
"I know your knock," Nick said with his eyes still closed.
 
"Not well enough to go opening doors without knowing who's on the other side!" Warrick yelled. "Especially not after everything that just happened!"
 
Warrick watched as Nick tried to reposition himself and succeeded only in falling off the bed.
 
"And especially not in the state you're in," Warrick said softly as he helped Nick up. "What'd you take?"
 
"The regular kind... from the hospital. Only, I maybe took them too close together."
 
"Damn, Nick, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" He pulled off Nick's shoes and socks and then stripped the rest of the clothes from the body he knew so well. Nick cradled his injured arm against his chest as he rocked back and forth on his back.
 
"Nicky, roll with me a little. I need to get the sheets up."
 
"So you can tuck me in?" Nick slurred.
 
"Yes, Nicky." Warrick managed to maneuver Nick under the covers.
 
"Rick?"
 
"Yeah?"
 
"Are you going again?"
 
Warrick had been thinking about it, but he couldn't bear to imagine what could happen if Nick was left to his own devices again. He sat on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. "I'm not going anywhere."
 
*****

Nick snored, and that, combined with the hard bed and lumpy pillow, meant that Warrick was wide awake. He flicked on the television. It was obvious that what the hotel saved on beds was put into providing free porn for its clients. He clicked past the softcore and kept flipping through the stations until he found a rerun of some movie from the 80s that he couldn't place, except to note how young Michael Douglas was.
 
It was about six hours before Nick stirred and Warrick was lost in the limbo between sleeping and dozing, never really making it to a full slumber.
 
"Rick?" Nick's voice was heavy and thick.
 
"Yeah?"
 
"More pills."
 
"Nuh uh," Warrick said as he moved closer to Nick. "What's bothering you?"
 
"Don't know," Nick whispered.
 
"Come on," Warrick said as he gently put his hands on Nick. "It's got to be your ribs that are bothering you. Let's get you moved a little."
 
"I don't need your help. I'm not a kid," Nick protested.
 
"I know." Warrick's voice had a clear edge to it.
 
Nick finally opened his eyes, clearing sleep. "Do you want to talk about this?" Nick asked as he worked to prop himself up.
 
"No. I'm fine, Nick. This is about you."
 
Nick yawned. "It's really not. You were there too."
 
"Be quiet, Nicky. You need your rest."
 
"I want to talk about this."
 
"And I don't," Warrick replied as he changed the channel and turned his face away from Nick. "Just go back to sleep."
 
"Stop being an ass."
 
"You're high on painkillers."
 
"Not so much that I can't tell when something's wrong."
 
Warrick shifted away from Nick again and said nothing.
 
"You're thinking that you should have been there for me," Nick said as he slowly turned to Warrick. "You did what we were supposed to do. I went in, and I knew you weren't behind me. It's not like I was counting on you. Neither of us could have known that Crane was in there - just like no one knew he was already in my house."
 
"I should have known," Warrick said hastily. "I don't know how this isn't my fault. You got that cable package for me, even though I never even came over to see it. Then you went into that house alone, when I should have been backing you up. Then I sent you home, and Crane was there... I passed the buck, twice." Warrick moved further away from Nick.
 
"Rick, all of those things... they weren't your fault. They can't be your fault. You didn't make Crane the way he is."
 
"I pushed you away."
 
"You were busy. You were busy catching Crane and solving the case. I would have done the same thing if the situation was reversed."
 
"Nick, stop trying to fucking coddle me, alright? You need your rest."
 
Nick carefully draped his bad arm over Warrick, knowing that the fear of hurting him worse would keep his partner from moving. "I'm not trying to coddle you, man. And you know that." He placed a kiss on Warrick's temple.
 
"Stop that," Warrick said as he gently pushed Nick away. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you."
 
Nick chuckled and leaned back into Warrick. "You're not good at that. And I don't need it. I need to watch over you. That's what I'm good at."
 
"But I don't need it," Warrick protested. "It didn't happen to me."
 
"Yeah, but if you love me the way I know you love me, then it happened to you just like it happened to me. You feel everything that I went through," he said softly. "And helping you is going to help me. So let me help you."
 
Warrick lifted Nick's arm so that he could roll, and they could face each other. "Yeah, man. We get through this together, right?"
 
"Yes." Nick kissed Warrick's nose and feel back to sleep. Warrick held on to consciousness a few minutes longer, watching Nick's breathing before he, too, drifted into the abyss.

***