Title: Messy
Author: SM
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Category: episode-related
Pairing: Greg/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: not for profit, just for fun
Spoilers: Homebodies (403)
Summary: Greg realizes somethings are going to get a little messier than he thought.
Author's Notes: I'm not new to writing fanfic, but I am new to CSI so I'm just getting my feet wet with the boys here. Constructive criticism is most welcome.

“You got a lot of new skills to master. Fieldwork’s a little messier than test tubes and GCMS.”

“Yeah, and lot less accurate.”

“One continuous motion, nice and easy,” Warrick coached.

Greg rolled the bloated fingertip on the card and then lifted it to reveal the smudged fingerprint it left behind.

“Not bad,” Warrick lied. “Keep practicing. Nine more to go.”

“Hey, heard about your mummy in the closet. Very cool,” Sara said as she and Nick met Warrick in the hall outside Greg’s lab.

“Yeah, and we get a 406 outside of Henderson. Wanna trade?” Nick asked.

“Ha, nothing spells excitement like a B. and E.” Warrick replied wryly.

“Sara, I’ll catch up in a second,” Nick told her when he spotted Greg bent over the lab counter.

That wasn’t anything new; their resident DNA expert, and new field trainee, always had his nose in something. But the undulating hips were a little… distracting, especially when there wasn’t any music playing in the lab. Greg seemed lost in his own world, and Nick wanted to know, wanted access, to where he was.

“One continuous motion, nice and easy,” Greg repeated to himself, ignoring Nick’s presence. But Nick couldn’t ignore Greg’s hips unconsciously moving with his hand.

“Greggo, what’s up?” Nick peered over his shoulder and lost interest in Greg’s swaying ass. “First Warrick gets the case, and now he’s got you doing his work?”

Greg tensed, carelessly smearing his gloved hand in the ink. Yeah, he knew this was the grunt work no one else wanted to do. But Warrick was right; there were a lot of things he still needed to learn, even this, so he wasn’t complaining. Or letting Nick imply he was just being used. “He’s helping me train for more fieldwork,” Greg replied defensively.

Nick didn’t miss the accusatory tone, nor what was left unsaid.

You don’t.

But what Greg didn’t understand was that Nick couldn’t spend more time with him. Anytime they were this close, Nick stopped concentrating on work and let stray thoughts, like bending Greg over the counter and fucking him senseless, seep in.

Like now, now it was too late to put the genie back in the bottle and his hand was covering Greg’s before he had time to think about it. “Here. Like this.” He guided Greg’s hand back over the card, rolling another print. “One smooth motion.”

That one wasn’t as smudged as the others, but the increased tension from Nick’s touch wasn’t helping Greg get a good clear print yet either. He practically forgot all about the job at hand when he felt Nick’s breath on the back of his neck. “R-right. Thanks.”

“Anytime, boss.” Nick fought the urge to step closer still, press himself right up behind Greg and feel—he abruptly stepped back instead and all the other sights and sounds of the bustling lab came rushing back around him. “I uh, I have to go.”

Greg looked up at him, eyes wide and his neck a little more flushed than a moment before. “You touched me—the ink. On my glove.” He handed Nick a tissue to wipe the black smudge from his palm.

“This is messier than I thought it would be,” Greg muttered under his breath as he turned back to his task.

“Yeah, I know. But…maybe it would be worth it,” Nick whispered back, taking a chance before he lost his nerve. But he wasn’t brave enough to wait for an answer. He left to join Sara, glancing briefly over his shoulder. It was like a tick he couldn’t control. Groaning to himself, he suddenly realized just how pathetic he really was.

Greg watched Nick walk away, stunned, afraid he’d missed his chance in that one heartbeat, but when Nick looked back again he didn’t hesitate. He nodded. Just a slight imperceptible twitch of his head, but it was enough to elicit an equally indiscernible smile in return.

Nick pushed through the outer doors and saw Sara wave to him from her car as she pulled out of the lot. He walked to his, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the lab and impatiently waited for Greg to answer. “If you’re hungry later I know where we can get a mean Denver omelet.”

“Yeah?” Greg replied, his fingers squeezing the phone harder as he prayed. “Where?”

“My place.”