Title: Little Things
By: Ama_Dear
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Note: Dedicated to Katlynn88 who, it is rumored, is in dire need of a fluffy break from angst.
Summary: Nick reflects on the little moments of their relationship. Major fluff, romance, drama, humor, angst, hurt, and comfort, as well as spoilers for pretty much EVERY episode from season 2 up.

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It was the little things, like the way he bragged about dates and flaunted his relationships, trying to make me jealous.

Like the way he followed me around the bus crash scene, eyes wide. Like the way he looked so glum for the rest of the night until I found him and reassured him that he did fine.

Like the way he froze when I touched him and kept his eyes away from mine. Like the way he showed up on my doorstep and apologized for printing out the newsletters. Like the nervous, hopeful lilt in his voice when he offered a room until my place was repaired. Like the disappointment in the way he walked away after I admitted that Warrick had already offered.

Like how he waited in the hallway right outside where I was, hoping to get an invitation. Like the falsely surprised look on his face when he got said invitation.

Like the twinkle in his eye when he informed me that I had been caught staring. Like his refusal to accept that I hadn't even realize the way I eyed him as he walked away. Like the very confident and very non-geeky way he told me we had a dinner date as of that moment.

Like the way he was so excited when he found out that I had him on speed dial, he endeavored to call or text me whenever possible. Like the way he made sure my ringtone was a song called "Riot" by Three Days Grace, as unromantic yet secretly meaningful song as he could think of. Like the way he twisted the lyrics to mean that we would riot against the tradition of work relationships never surviving or something like that.

Like the conspiratorial smirk on his face when I answered his "rock on" with an "I love you." Like the way he was as amused by the gesture as he was by the fact that Catherine was completely clueless.

Like the jealousy in his face when I picked Archie over him to work in the field that one time. Like the way he accepted my explanation without making a scene. Like the way he kept that pout on his face until we got home and I could kiss it off.

Like how he didn't get angry when he found out that Warrick and I had sent him on grunt work to find a missing soda bottle. Like the way he decided to get even instead, and performed certain acts that meant I spent a very uncomfortable hour in the lab wishing I could be at home with my teasing jerk of a boyfriend.

Like the way he found me in the break room when Warrick and I clashed and talked to me lowly until I calmed down. Like the soft smoothness of his voice when he finished his pep talk with the words for "I love you" in Norwegian. Like the way he refused to leave until I gave my usual reply in Spanish. Like the secret thrill we both got from being relatively open in the lab, knowing that no one would find out.

Like the way he approached me after shift and offered to show me Cottonwood Island or Tequila Cove at my earliest convenience. Like the way he sought out Sara and casually informed her that, while there may have been no proof that my optimistic scenario was correct, the law declared that all were innocent until proven guilty, so my view was politically correct.

Like the way he approached me following the murdered showgirl's case and apologized for "betraying" me to work with Catherine. Like the way the sincerity in his gaze made me feel guilty for my split-second of selfish hurt when Sara first said he was siding with Catherine.

Like the way he took me to dinner to celebrate me almost getting a promotion. Like the pride in his voice when the waitress asked if it was a special occasion. Like how he bragged, neglecting to mention the fact that the position had been cut.

Like the childlike excitement in his eyes after he passed his first two proficiencies and his desire to share it with me. Like the tight hug he gave me the second I stepped in the door when he failed the last one, and the deep shuddering breaths he took to keep from crying. Like the way he was able to pull away and smile shakily. Like how he said that just being with me had calmed him down.

Like the way he woke up with me while I got ready to work swing and went to breakfast with me every day, even though it meant he lost sleep. Like the way he got closer to Warrick so he could spend time with me at the lab as well.

Like the subtle way he managed to stay at my side when he passed his final proficiency. Like the way he knew I would want to take the opportunity to touch him as often as I could without raising suspicion.

Like the way he never approached my bed in the hospital until everyone else was gone. Like the way he took my hand and kissed me and cried. Like the way he apologized, saying it was stupid that I was the one in danger and he was the one bawling his eyes out. Like the way he went home and removed any trace of ants or green light in our apartment, and removed the shutters from the bedroom windows so I could always see the sky. Like the way he invited my parents to stay in our spare bedroom despite the fact that he was nervous as hell around them and that I was still in the hospital, unable to rescue him if he felt awkward.

Like the way he texted me when I had to work a scene underground, telling me to call him if I needed it and attached a picture of the sun in the clear sky above the lab. Like the way he called it a portable window in case I ever felt nervous.

Like the way he snuck me out of mine and Warrick's hotel room to take a calming walk when the McBride family disappeared. Like the way he waited outside the hospital until I was ready to leave. Like the way he practically ordered me to let my tears come. Like the way he took the card she made and framed it, and put it on the wall in our living room.

Like the way he didn't tease me about growing a moustache. Like the way I woke up one morning with half of it shaved off. Like the way he innocently held out a Sharpie and offered to draw it back "so I wouldn't look stupid."

Like the way he kept his kickboxing lessons a secret until it helped a case, knowing that the idea of him working out was appealing to me and waiting until the perfect moment to tease me with the image.

Like the way he didn't get jealous when a bridesmaid snuck a napkin into my pocket. Like the look on his face as he turned away, the look that said 'Oh yeah, look at that, my boyfriend's hot.'

Like the way followed me out to the parking lot one day and gave me a more detailed description of his preferred birthday fantasy, saying that he hoped I would be more accurate than Catherine.

Like the way he gave me his blessing to go to a club with Catherine, as long as I promised not to be too friendly. Like the way he changed his mind and asked his friend Stella to come and keep an eye on me. Like the way he got jealous when Stella told him how close I got to her. Like the way we spent nearly two weeks arguing before we realized that it was stupid to waste four and a half years of love because of one night.

Like the way he didn't freak out when I couldn't get away to visit him in the hospital. Like the weak smile on his face when Warrick told him how I had punched that guy on the scene. Like the way he asked me to hold him close when he was allowed home. Like the way he laid his head on my shoulder and whispered his thanks for protecting his pride, because he knew that it killed me to not be there to protect him. Like the way we spent every second possible together. Like the way every second I was aware of the fact that we had been fighting little more than a week before I almost lost Greg forever.

Like the steady look he gave me in the courtroom, like he was drawing strength from the sight of me alone. Like the way he shook as he told me of the encounter with Aaron James. Like the grateful smile on his face when he saw what Warrick and I had done.

Like the way he took my calls every time I felt like hearing his voice while working the case outside of Vegas. Like the way he texted when he thought it had been too long since my last call.

Like the fact that he agreed to go behind Catherine's back even when he wanted to not aggravate anyone so soon after making the team. Like how he knew it was important to me, so he agreed.

Like the way he lied about his sex life in high school when he knew I didn't believe a word of it. Like the pleased expression on his face when I didn't discuss my own, correctly assuming that it was because I preferred to focus on our love life instead.

Like the quiet determination on his face when he worked the murdered showgirls' house. Like the way my concern was met with nothing but calm courage. Like the way he sought me out outside the building later and ranted about the unfair payout until he was calm.

Like the way I found him in the locker room one night, waiting for me with a beatific expression. Like the way he begged me not to leave until he did. Like the way he admitted that he wanted to take a shower together so I could help him wash marinara sauce out of his hair. Like the way he spent a few days providing me with enough memories to last a trip to Iowa, so many that I ended up staying home to make new memories.

Like the way he was able to work the case at the brothel without making a single joke or flirting with a single hooker. Like the way one of the girls offered to show him "a better way to get DNA" and, after a moment's pause, he politely informed her that his boyfriend (AKA me) wouldn't appreciate it.

Like the delighted mood he was in when we worked a case practically by ourselves, because Grissom pretty much stayed in the lab all day. Like the way he followed the unwritten code of secret office relationships and didn't tell me about Sara and Grissom, which was an honorable thing even if it made me a feel a little miffed. Like the way he showed off his CSI skills for me. Like the way he so eagerly chased the fleeing suspect with me, and compensated losing that race by soundly beating me in the go carts.

Like the bad mood that consumed him when I had to leave the apartment early, without saying goodbye. Like the way both his grumpiness and my tiredness faded away when we met at Frank's.

Like the endless about of gay cowboy, gay bull, and semen-stained jean jokes he came up with working the rodeo case. Like his very real attempt at simple poetry that he tried to throw away before I could read. Like the sheepish expression on his face when I kissed him and told him that it was worthy of becoming a Grissom quote.

Like the way he convinced me to leave a few hickeys and break my "no sex while sick" rule. Like the way he rationalized it by saying that our boss had already supplied the germs, and my mama's boy lover had already been planning on wearing the scarf that his mom gave him for Christmas, because of the cold. Like the way he made chicken soup from scratch and insisted on taking care of me even as he sneezed when we got home.

Like the way he took a small piece of white string and tied it around my finger, right under my class ring. Like the way he tied another around the ring finger of his right hand too. Like the way he called it the proof of the connection between us that existed in the String Theory. Like the way he said, "Who needs gay marriage anyway? Marriage, by your definition, isn't a legal thing anyway. Public declarations--of love or otherwise--are protected under the first amendment, so real marriage is available for anyone. Besides, gold rings are proof that money is important in a relationship, which is so not true. I'd rather have proof that love doesn't need anything but commitment." Like the way he stopped talking to think for a moment, and took my face in both hands and kissed me softly. Like the way he pulled away and whispered, "I think I just proposed to you. You said yes, right?"

Like the way he is lying on the couch with his head in my lap, bending his arm at an awkward angle so he can hold mine. Like the way he's slipped my Aggie ring down to my knuckle so he can rub the string knot. Like the way he stopped watching the movie an hour ago and is humming some song that I don't know, radiating contentment just because we are together. Like the way he has stopped adding gel to his hair because he knows I love it like it is right now, with a few curls spilling onto his forehead, the perfect shape for me to wind around my finger, if I was so inclined. Like the way I have been staring at him for hours, and he has not laughed at me for it.

Like the way he isn't pushing me even though I know he is dying for an answer. Like the way he is watching me watch him with a soft light in his eyes as he waits to hear what makes us work so well together, what caused me to love him, why I accepted a worthless piece of string tied in a circle in lieu of a diamond ring and said yes to spending every possible moment with Gregory Hojem Sanders, my true love and my best friend.

"I don't know, G. I guess it's just... little things, you know?"

Like the way he smiles and parts his lips to ask for a kiss, and replies quietly, "Yeah, I know."
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A/N: God, I am so happy with how this came out. Major props to twins1729, SwamiCSIaholic, CSIElizabeth, love-fan, and NickyandGreggo over at the CSI wiki for providing the Nick and Greg Episode Guide.

In order, the episodes mentioned are:
$35K O.B.O
Face Lift
Chasing The Bus
Stalker
Anatomy Of A Lye
The Hunger Artisit
The Accused Is Entitled
Abra Cadaver
Random Acts Of Violence
All For Our Country
Invisible Evidence
Feeling The Heat
After The Show
No More Bets
Viva Las Vegas
Throughout season 5, based on one scene in No Humans Involved
Who Shot Sherlock?
Grave Danger
Break between Grave Danger and Way To Go
Shooting Stars
Gum Drops (mention of the original plot, in which Grissom comes as well and the team stays at a hotel overnight.)
Throughout A Bullet Runs Through It and Dog Eat Dog
Up In Smoke
Rashomama
Time Of Your Death
Built to Kill: Part 1, until just before Toe Tags
Fannysmackin'
Post Mortem
Leaving Las Vegas
Redrum
Fallen Idols
Empty Eyes
Lab Rats
Ending Happy
A La Cart
You Kill Me
BUll
Grissom's Divine Comedy
The Theory Of Everything.

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