Title: Love Song
Author: JustPlainChy
Rating: G
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Warnings: None.

I never wanted to love him. In all honesty I never wanted to love any man, and as cliché and patented it sounds in this day and age, it was because my family was a conservative group of elite judges and lawyers from Texas. But, as I slowly learned with things such as these no amount of wishing will drive them away. And even then, once I'd realized that this thing where I liked the flatness of male chests against mine and they way a man felt in my arms instead of the curves of a woman, and I'd picked it all up and moved to Vegas to escape what that meant, I never wanted to love him. He was geeky, I was manly. He liked Marilyn Manson and bands that had names that seemed like random words thrown together, I liked country and people who went by their names. Garth Brooks, Brooks and Dunn. He liked to wear loud clothing to work and I liked to wear things a tad more conservative.

In the end though, we really have no choice in who we love. Somewhere along the way his loud music and louder clothing went from annoying to amusing, and his demeanor went from geeky to adorable. I'd look at him and want nothing more than to pull him into my arms and feel the way his back felt against mine while we slept, I'd look at him and want to ruffle his hair and peck him on the cheek, and more than that, I'd look at him and want to keep every bit of pain from him. Somewhere in there (my brain tells me it was probably the moment when he was blown through a glass wall and I came within inches of loosing what I didn't have) I fell for him and I fell hard.

I never wanted to love him. In all honesty, I never wanted to love any strait man, because I certainly believe that unrequited love is the stupidest love of all. If I had created the universe, I think that I would have made unrequited love impossible, because it hurts to much and makes no sense. So, even though I'd loved many men (and a couple of very special women) and I had no problem flirting with everything that walked I never wanted to love someone like him, and especially not him. He was golden and I was the kid brother. He was a jock, up-front and personal, in your face brawn, and I was the scientist, in the lab and behind your back brain. They say opposites attract, but not to that degree. He liked awful things, like cheesy crime novels that always get the facts wrong and I liked scientific journals and good fiction. I also completely disapproved of his taste in music. Twang had never really been my thing.

In the end though, that tight-laced attitude got me. I was a goner the first time he gave me that famous patented dimple-grin. That boring dress attire became endearing, that in-your-face attitude became admirable and suddenly I wanted nothing more than for him to sweep me off my feet and read me poetry or sing me bad country music by people too lame to even name their bands. Except the Dixie Chicks, those ladies are always an exception. I wanted nothing more than for him to bring me a sandwich at lunch and grin like it was our little secret, and I wanted nothing more, nothing at all more than for those deep brown eyes to look in mine and tell me he loved me. It's cliché and it's been used a million times, but when you look at him, you have to know that the boy had me at hello.

I thought we were made simply of differences and perhaps that's why I found him appealing. I figured out that we're more alike that we anticipated. We fear the same things, death of loved ones, being back in our personal hells, explosions and tight spaces, we both try to protect each other more than we should and we end up fighting the same side on different days. We care about the same things when you get past the fluff of our existences. We both hate the loss of human life and we both break inside when it's a child's scene. We both want to find a way to make this world a better place.

I thought we were made simply of differences and that was the reason he enthralled me. And I think it might still be the case, but I think that for him and me, it works. I think we resonate together, two separate notes that sound completely different when played separately, but that are in perfect harmony. Well, perhaps not perfect, but pretty close. And perhaps that's because the base foundation is the same. We're in the same key. The Key of C. We want what everyone wants, we're not sharp, we're not flat, simply two guys, out to make our way in the world, try to change things for the better and make a difference.

So here we are, we've gotten our act together and it only took us 5 years to do it.

I'd found him after an explosion.

I'd found him after he'd almost died in a box.

And we resonate, two souls, played together by some master on a violin, two human lives who have found a point of connect that spans beyond language or time or our simple human perception.

He's mine.

And I'm His.

And we work.

(Love Song)
How can I keep my soul in me, so that
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise
it high enough, past you, to other things?
I would like to shelter it, among remote
lost objects, in some dark and silent place
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,
takes us together, like a violin's bow,
which draws one voice out of two separate strings.
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?
And what musician holds us in his hand?
Oh sweetest song.

(Rainer Maria Rilke)

- Fin

(AN: Well, it's a bit different, I hope you enjoyed, please leave a bit of feedback on your way out. Rilke's work belongs to Rilke and CSI is property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer Productions)