Title: Rum and Coke
By: pxzowiiey
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Summary: This was meant to be published around Christmas but, alas, homework is my priorty.

***

"Fuck." Growls Greg from the inside of the bedroom closet, "Nick, have you seen my red tie?"

Nick laces up his black dress shoes. The ones even Greg said he paid too much for. "You mean my red tie?' Greg shoots him a smirk. "It's on the hanger with your black shirt."

Sure enough, it is.

Greg holds up the hanger and examines the specimen draped over it "Is black too morbid for a Christmas party? Or should I go with the white shirt?"

"Blacks fine, hon."

Greg sighs and still silently debates between the two but reluctantly slips the black shirt on. He flings the red tie around his neck and using his reflection from the floor mirror attempts to tie it.

Nick slinks from his seat on the bed until his chest is flush with his beau's back. He chuckles deeply before whispering softly in to Greg's ear "You know you're a bit old not to know how to tie a tie. He slides his arms under Greg's and leisurely up his chest until he finds the silk of Greg's tie and proceeds to loop and knot it for him.

Nick finds Greg's eyes in the mirror and they share a smile.

"Well who are you trying to impress? You look like a million dollars, babe." Nick nuzzles into the crook of his neck electing a throaty purr from the younger man.

Eyes closed Greg whispers " Don't start anything. We're gonna..." Nicks presses gentle kisses to the back of his neck and earns a soft moan from Greg, "...be late."

Greg turns so he is nose to nose with Nick. Lips meet softly, mingling with a brief taste of tongue before Greg moves his head so it is resting against Nicks shoulder.

And then he says what Nick's been dreading the entire evening, "Wouldn't it be nice it we could be like this in public...around our friends?"
Nick closes his eyes. He knew this argument was going to gurgle up again today. He could just feel it in the air. He takes a deep breath and almost speaks but Greg cuts him off.

"Nicky, it's been two whole years. We can't keep this from them anymore. It's...it's not fair to them."

Nick breaks the embrace and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Don't do this tonight."

He leaves the bedroom in search of the car keys, Greg follows.

"Why? Because we're going to Catherine's Christmas party? We're in the midst of the fuckin' holiday season and news flash Nicky, the holidays are supposed to bring people together, you're supposed to be with loved ones." He leans against the kitchen counter as Nick sifts through the forest of Chinese take out cartons in the fridge for the bottle of wine they bought for Catherine.

"We are together." Nick mutters, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, but no one fucking knows it but us. I want everybody to know how lucky I am to go out with Nick Stokes: Crimestopper" Nick winces at the mention of the Lab newsletter. "I need to tell someone"

Nick struggles for the proper words. Either way, Greg knows he won't get anywhere with this tonight. He pushes off the counter with an unsatisfied "whatever" and sulks back to the bedroom (probably to put on shoes) where he mumbles something that sounds like "We'll talk about this when we get home." But Nick can't be certain.

Still brooding Greg climbs into the Denali along with Nick.
The drive that follows is a silent one, Nick pretending to listen to the Christmas music that plays in the background (although he can only actually hear a few of the notes) and Greg focuses on whatever is outside.

Within twenty minutes the boys arrive at the residence of Catherine Willows.
The hostess, perhaps just a tad bit tipsy, greets the pair warmly "Seasons Greetings. Nicky!" pause for a hug "Greg!" another hug "C'mon in!"

Archie ushers Greg over to converse about some recent 'Battlestar' episode, a ritual that was likely to last for the remainder of the night. Nick, meanwhile, muses over the assorted desserts and alcohol lining Catherine's dining table and perhaps, somewhat reluctantly, decides to make himself a rum and coke. After all, Greg was the one on call, not him.

A rough slap on the back turns Nick's drink into a concoction with substantially more rum than coke.

"Nick!" Warrick hollers over the blaring holiday music. "I want you to meet Tina...my girlfriend."

She extends a manicured hand Nick's way while still managing to clutch on to Warrick and her drink. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise"

She untwines herself from her boyfriend. "'Rick, I have to go to work"

"Alright, sugar. I'll call you."

Nick watches enviously at the little show of PDA and as soon as Tina is out of earshot he turns to Warrick. "She's a babe, man. Nice catch."

"Tell me about it. The sex is amazing"

Nick smiles and swirls his drink. "That's great, man. Think she's a keeper?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's alright..." He pauses and stares in the direction she left.
"How about you? When are you gonna find a girl? Last one I remember meeting was that lawyer, what was her name..."

"Stacey."

"Yeah, Stacey. That was what, a year ago?"

"Two."

Warrick howls. "Ouch bro, you got to get out there."

"Hey, I'm out there..."

"I'm serious, Nick. You never know when it's too late."

Warrick brushes past him and drifts toward Catherine. Like a moth to a flame Nick thinks idly. He scans the room; Grissom sits on the beige love seat with Sara, wrapped up in what Nick assumes to be a case related topic. Sara runs her fingers through her hair and leans close to better hear Grissom. Out on the makeshift dance floor Warrick presses up against Catherine, holding her close as they dance to "The Christmas Song," her head tossed back laughing as Warrick lip syncs to it.

The party is oddly quiet, seeing as it has died down because the day shift left, all claiming that they shouldn't be out at this ungodly hour. Apparently Archie was gone too and Nick watches as Greg sits alone, holding a bottle of water and slightly tapping his foot to the music. Maybe it's the rum and coke or maybe it's the people that surround him, but before his mind has time to hesitate Nick finds himself almost floating towards the ex-lab rat. It's only until Nick stands right before him that Greg gazes up.

"Care to dance?"

Greg's eyes double in size "Here? Right here? In front of all these people, but Nick...you said..."

"Fuckin' holiday season, Greg, you were right, we're supposed to be with our loved ones. "

Greg takes his hand. "You're sure?"

Nick dimples have never been more pronounced. "Positive." Hand in hand they establish their place on the floor. Greg encircles his arms around Nick's neck and Nick winds his arms around Greg's waist. The classic voice of Frank Sinatra envelopes the house and together they sway to the rhythm. Casually, Greg fidgets with the soft hair at the nape of the older mans neck. No one gawks, no one is repulsed, no one takes a second glance at the couple.

"Thank you," Greg whispers.

Nick beams, "Merry Christmas, Greg."

***