Title: Right Here
By: quettaser
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairings: Nick/Greg
Warnings: Spoilers for "Compulsion" (ep 5.17)
Summary: Done for the geekfiction Fic-A-Thon, for slynn6776 who asked for Greg/Sara or Greg/Nick and some Hodges snark (yes), some flirty fun (sort of, yeah), and the breakroom...or something (we've got breakroom). Also done for the ngchallenge's Clothing challenge. Nick was stressed...and wearing Greg's shirt.

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            Greg watched Nick as he entered the break room, heading straight for the fresh pot of coffee. He noticed the wrinkle between his brows, the tension in his shoulders, the way he tightly gripped his mug.

            Nick was stressed….and wearing Greg's shirt.

            Huh.

            How had that happened? Well, he wasn't home when Nick got dressed for work that day, his "bird watching" schedule had prevented that. But it wasn't like Nick to make such a simple mistake.

            Unless this case was getting to him worse than most. Then he wouldn't be paying attention to anything other than the case file in front of him.

            "Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence of the break room.

            Nick turned towards him, surprise in his eyes as if he was just noticing Greg sitting at the far end of the table. "Hey," he replied, not even bothering to force a smile.

            Yeah, it was bad.

            "Tell you about it at home, okay?" he said, softly.

            Greg nodded, tapping two fingers of his right hand against the side of his neck. It was a signal he had come up with, knowing they couldn't always say what they wanted in the lab. It had several meanings, anywhere from I'm thinking about you to I love you to If you don't stop that this second I'm going to throw you onto a table and have my way with you. It all depended on the context.

            Nick smiled faintly, really just a twitch at the corner of his mouth as he mirrored Greg's signal. This was probably closest to I love you.

            He watched Nick leave the break room, fresh coffee in hand, shoulders still slumped and eyes focused somewhere beyond the room when Hodges came plowing in, just narrowly avoiding hitting Nick.

            He paused, and watched Nick leave, a thoughtful look on his face.

            Which meant that nothing good was going to happen in the next five minutes.

            Hodges smirked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "You know, that's a nice shirt Nick's wearing."

            Greg hummed, noncommittally, trying to avoid Hodges eyes.

            "Funny, though, I thought I saw you wearing one just like it the other day. What, you guys go shopping together now?"

            "No," he choked out. How had Hodges noticed? Why in the hell was he paying attention to the clothes they wore?

            "So, he just ended up wearing your shirt because – oh." A light bulb went off behind his eyes.

            "Hodges, listen –" Greg started, setting down his now empty cup of coffee.

            "You and Stokes? Really? Wow. Huh."

            "Hodges-"

            "Huh," he said, still not listening, just thinking, his thoughts ran across his face, making no effort to hide them.

            "Listen to me," Greg said, standing up and moving towards Hodges, waiting until he had his full attention before continuing. "You cannot tell anyone. I mean it, anyone."

            "Give me a little credit, please? Like I seriously care who you have sex with."

            "I don't know. You huff bleach."

            "I don't-It's just-my nose, it's a sensitive nose, very-just, I wasn't huffing bleach. I was doing my job. And I really don't care who you're sleeping with. It's just surprising, that's all."

            "Surprising?"

            "Well, sort of. I mean, you, you're you, so no real surprise there. But Nick, he's well-"

            "What, too masculine?" suggested Greg, not bothering to keep the bitter edge from his voice.

            "Too Texan," replied Hodges, unfazed.

            "'Too Texan?' So now region is the deciding factor in determining sexuality?"

            "Apparently, yeah."

            "Hodges-"

            "I'm really not going to tell anyone, you spiky headed freak," he said, almost smiling, in that weird, nearly creepy Hodges way. It was almost endearing.

            "Thanks," said Greg, relaxing a little. "Hey, you know, you aren't so bad once you stop being anal about, well, everything."

            "Are you flirting with me?"

            "Yes, Hodges, I'm flirting with you. I so badly want your body," he said, his voice flat, thick with sarcasm.

            "Well, I'm afraid it's off limits."

            "Whatever, I've got work to do."

            Except he didn't. Not really. It was up to Sara and Grissom now, he just had some follow-up paperwork to file, some unnecessary evidence to catalogue. And if it Nick's case was anywhere near as bad as he thought it could be, he'd be home long before him.

 

            Greg yawned, breaking the silence of the bedroom. Normally, he'd be playing music or have the TV on in the background, but he was too tired.

            He cracked his neck, tightened the damp towel around his waist and considered just passing out on the bed, hair still wet from the shower and Nick still not home. He'd taken as much time as possible, spending an extra two minutes brushing his teeth, and extra three minutes rinsing and repeating. But no matter how long he had spent toweling dry, it still wasn't long enough for Nick to be home by the time he was done.

            He bounced on the balls of his feet for a second, torn between taking the time to dry his hair, or just flopping into bed. He decided on the flopping, not caring about the damp towel on the floor or his damp hair on the pillow as he fell asleep.

 

            Warmth against his back, warm hands on his skin, warm breath in his ear. Nick was home, and apparently horny. He sighed and pressed back into Nick, spooning against him, feeling his erection graze the back of his thigh. Nick's hand ran along his hip, squeezing, massaging as he pulled his leg back, lifting it over Nick's legs.

            Then fingers, slick with lube from somewhere, were pressing against him, pushing inside. He let out a soft moan and pressed further against Nick, back flush with his chest.

            He was used to Nick's urgency, his desperation when he came home from work, but this wasn't what he was used to. The fingers were slow, achingly slow like they too were caught in the haze of sleep along with Greg's brain.

            He was used to the noise, the sounds of their sex. He was loud, he knew it, felt no shame in moaning, yelling, telling Nick exactly what he liked and how. And Nick wasn't exactly quiet either, had a penchant for talking dirty, for licking and sucking on Greg's ears and neck while he mumbled filthy words into his skin. But as Nick's fingers left and he pushed inside, still so slowly, inch by inch, he couldn't muster a single sound, breath escaping in a shaky exhale.

            Nick set the rhythm, unhurried and measured strokes, hand splayed possessively over Greg's hip, flexing, bruising. Each stroke was long and powerful, Greg unconsciously arching back into them, angling his hips so that each one brushed him just right, made his cock jump, made his muscles clench.

            Nick's breath was hot against his skin, panting, just a hint of whine, of need every time Greg pushed back. And that sound, that breath on his cheek, the feel of Nick's head just next to his, was more intimate than any kiss, than the way their bodies moved together. He couldn't hold back any longer, Greg's hand traveling down to grip his own cock, to slowly stroke in time with Nick's thrusts.

            Nick shifted behind him, moving just a little faster, hand leaving his hip, traveling down along his arm to join Greg's hand on his cock. He whimpered at the first touch, head pressing back into Nick's, hips jerking, needing just a little more. Lips on his skin, on the back of his neck, mumbling murmured words and Nick's grip tightened, flicking the head with his thumb.

            Greg tensed, muscles shaking as he came, breath hitching as he slowly came down, body quaking in Nick's arms until he relaxed again. Nick began to push again, just a little faster than before, skin slapping on skin. He guided Greg's hand, still slick with his own come up to his mouth sucking his fingers clean, crying out around them as he came.

            They lay still for a few minutes, Nick still kissing the back of his neck, tasting sweat and skin. Nick pulled out and Greg sighed, hating the feeling of emptiness that washed over him. Turned in Nick's arms to face him, not surprised to still see pain in his eyes.

            "What happened?"

            He took a minute to answer, his voice soft in the quiet of the room. "Bad case. Kid killed his brother and Cavalier was being a-It doesn't matter. Just another bad case."

            "You've been catching a lot of those lately." Ever since the shift-split, he'd watched Nick grow more tired, more withdrawn. They'd stopped talking about work, Nick just clamming up and refusing to speak about what was bothering him.

            "They're all bad, just…some get to me more than others."

            "I know."

"God, he was just a kid, a boy. That someone that young could, could find the rage to do what he did…" Nick sighed. "I don't want to think about it anymore. I'm tired of awful people." He still didn't know anything about the case and if he had to go to Catherine to get the details so he could confront Nick, he'd do it. But that wasn't what either of them needed right now.

Greg leaned in, kissing Nick softly, raising himself up onto his elbow, pushing him back into the pillows, opening his mouth to taste. He pulled back and brushed the sweaty hair from Nick's forehead. "Hi."

            "Hi," said Nick, smiling a little.

            "You'd have been proud of me," he said, lying back down, head on Nick's shoulder, "I went bird-watching today."

            "Bird-watching?"

            "Tailed a drug dealer for a while. Found out some disgusting things about that coffee shop I used to go to."

            "Drugs in your caffeine?"

            "No. They reuse their lids."

            "That is disgusting."

            "So is what we look like right now, we should shower."

            Nick tightened his grip on Greg. "I need just a few more minutes. You know, I was wearing your shirt today. I didn't even realize it until I got home."

            "I noticed."

            "You didn't say anything," said Nick, shifting so he could look at Greg again.

            "You were wrapped up in your case. I didn't want to bug you…But, I wasn't the only one who noticed."

            "They know about us?"

            "Hard not to guess."

            He expected Nick to fly off the handle, to start yelling, to freak out. He was the one who had insisted they had to stay secret, that it was just safer this way. He'd seen him freak over some not so subtle flirting, worry over any sort of touching.

            But he seemed to be wrong about this today too. Nick just sighed and shut his eyes, hiding his face in his pillow. "I don't want to deal with this today," he mumbled.

            Greg sighed and sat up, hand rubbing circles on Nick's back. "They aren't going to tell anyone."

            "Who knows?"

            "It doesn't-" Nick sat up to glare at him.

            "Who, Greg?"

            "Hodges," he answered sheepishly.   

            Nick flopped back down on the bed, sighing. "Hodges? Of all the-fuck it, it doesn't matter."

            Greg resumed rubbing small circles, leaning down to kiss the back of his neck.

            "Can I just spend the rest of my life right here, in this bed?"

            "Sure. Forget money for food and water and the house, we'll just stay right here until someone comes to repo all our stuff."

            Nick turned to face Greg again. "Your sarcasm, while often cute and endearing is not helping right now."

            Greg just smiled and kissed him, pulling him close again, this time cradling Nick's head in the crook of his shoulder.

            "I just want one day," he said, voice soft again. "One day where I don't-don't have to accuse parents of murder, one day where I don't have to search through someone's life, one day where I don't have to look into the eyes of a murderer."

            "Take a day off," murmured Greg, shifting so he could kiss Nick's temple.

            "I can't, you know I can't." Nick reached his hand out across Greg's stomach, hand finding its favorite spot, low around his hip. "I feel like I'm heading straight for a burnout."

            "You're not, you just hit a bad patch, that's all. Everyone's been off their game since the shift-split. It's what happens."

            "What if it's not a bad patch, what if I'm losing it, losing my touch, losing…everything?"

            Greg wasn't used to this, this insecurity from Nick. He was always the one doubting himself and it was always Nick helping him back up, building his confidence again. He stroked his hand through Nick's hair, shifted a little closer.

            "Look at me, Nick."

            He did, easing up on his elbow, his other hand still low, near his hip, eyes full of uncertainty. Greg's hand left his hair, cupped his cheek.

            "You are very good at your job, and you aren't told that enough. And you'll never lose everything, because you'll always have me."

            Nick smiled, hurt lessening in his eyes as he leaning in for a light kiss, lips barely brushing. Kept them there as he murmured, "Love you so much."

            "Love you too."

            "Can we stay here for a few hours? I don't want to move just yet," asked Nick, lying back down again, finding the spot in the hollow of Greg's shoulder again.

            Greg let his hand move down Nick's arm, come to rest along his elbow, stroking the skin with his thumb. "Sure." He watched Nick close his eyes, felt his hand flex on his hip, heard his sigh. He continued to gently caress his arm, Nick humming in contentment.

            Nick's warmth began to lull him, his steady breath pulling him towards sleep. He knew he was still awake though, and a thought occurred to him. "You should keep the shirt," Greg muttered. "It looked good and it's always been a little big on me."

            "That shirt's already given me enough problems."

            "He's not going to tell anyone. He knows I'll chop his balls off if he does."

            "You do know that I'm going to have nightmares now, with that image of Hodge's balls in my head?"

            "I'll be right here to make it better when you do."

            He felt Nick smile against his skin and he let his hand come to rest, lying lightly on Nick's arm, sighing as he let his eyes drift shut and wandered off towards sleep.



Fin.

A/N: This was inspired by this shirt, because it's such a Greg shirt.

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