Title: Strategies
By: Caster
Piring: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
A/T: This fic goes out to the wonderful Quasilogical! She didn't ask for any specific five words, but she did want a fluffy domestic fic (Right up my alley! Thanks Q!) with the lab techs making an appearance. I definitely took care of that for you, sweets.
Disclaimer: Not yours, not mine.
Summary: Greg's plans keep getting dashed in the best way possible.

***

December 25th
10:02 AM

The sun filtered in through the blinds of the bedroom, filling the space with white light. The room was still, cold and crisp with a bed that, until recently, had held two individuals. One was still huddled beneath the blankets, clad in blue flannel pajamas and barely awake, while the other had brushed their teeth, showered, dressed, and began the preparations for their holiday dinner. It was Christmas and everything felt like a holiday; the weather was right and even the gray sky, normally dreary on any other occasion, screamed hot chocolate, an Evergreen tree, and some scarves and mittens.

Nick shivered beneath the blankets and reached for the body that was normally spooned against him. However, he only found empty space and managed to crack an eye open to see whether Greg had fallen off the bed again or was simply up and at 'em already. Upon seeing that he was indeed alone, Nick groaned and shut his eyes, wondering how Greg had managed to rise so early. Nick was usually the calendar keeper and set two alarms in case the first one went out, but Greg always had enough energy for two on holidays. The Texan sighed, able to smell the remnants of breakfast, the aroma making his stomach grumble. He was hungry and yet he was sleepy. The question was which did he need the most? Food or rest?

As if Greg was deciding for him, Nick heard a few loud chords from the stereo in the kitchen before their favorite Christmas song Carol of the Bells filled their home. It appeared as though Nick wouldn't be getting any additional sleep, so some scrambled eggs and a piece of toast seemed like the next best thing. With another tired groan, he managed to roll himself out of bed, slip into his house shoes, and amble into their bathroom without inflicting any bodily harm upon himself. He still couldn't get over it; it usually took three warnings and a blaring country song to get Greg out of bed every evening before work. In addition, Greg couldn't communicate until some coffee was flowing through his veins. Why, on their day off, did Greg insist on rising with the theoretic chickens? It was nine o'clock, for crying out loud; that was the equivalent of a normal person's nine PM. By all accounts, they should still be sleeping the sleep of the dead. Ah, slumber. What a wonderful dream.

Nick blearily brushed his teeth and wiped the sleep from his eyes; he blinked at his reflection before wrinkling his nose in annoyance at his worsening vision. He fumbled for his glasses and tried his best to ignore his disheveled hair. He was a lost cause; Greg always looked wonderful while Nick barely managed to tag behind, his perfectly pressed button ups scarcely making up for Greg's original style. But today was work free, which meant that Nick could lay around in his pajamas if he wanted (which he never did, mind you) and not have to worry about fashion. Today was a day just for them; no work, no corpses, no anything. Just he and Greg and food and maybe, if Nick was lucky, a nap afterwards.

Now more awake, Nick exited their bedroom and followed the blissful scent of Greg's freshly brewing coffee. The living room's television was on CBS, although it was muted; Greg loved the parades, especially the marching bands. His favorite floats were always Snoopy and Garfield. He liked to compare the two comic characters with themselves; Greg thought of himself as Snoopy because he was curious and loved music. Nick, on the other hand, was Garfield. Although not lethargic by any means, Nick knew what was what. Did Mondays suck? Was Odie lacking upstairs? Was Jon a hopeless case? Yes, yes, and yes. That's just the way they were and while "opposites attract" was a huge cliché that wasn't nearly as true as it appeared, Nick and Greg certainly fit together despite their differences.

"Coffee," Nick begged, approaching his boyfriend from behind and winding his arms around the other man's waist, using his shoulder for a much-needed pillow.

Greg's laugh filled the room and Nick felt just a little bit warmer. "Hey sweetheart," he greeted. "The coffee's not a problem, but I'm afraid I can't make any more if you're using me as a vertical mattress."

Nick sighed and let go, heading towards the cupboard to reach for whatever container he touched first. A plate? A bowl? Sure, whatever; if it could hold coffee, then it was good enough for him.

However, his fortune was with him that day. His fingers brushed a mug -the Texas AM mug he'd had since college- and he thrust it towards an obviously amused Greg. What was so funny? So maybe 1 out of 365 days, he was a little off of his game. The other 364 days had to count for something, right?

Greg smiled and graciously filled the mug with the steaming beverage, the aroma sending Nick to a better mental place than he had been all morning. The blonde CSI quickly added some milk and sugar (Nick couldn't really drink it black, but Greg could chew on the grounds.) and handed it back to the slowly waking man. Nick let out an appreciative hum before leaning in to capture a kiss, careful not to spill his precious caffeine concoction.

"Hey baby," Nick said by way of a morning hello. Score one for him; he was able to put a grammatically correct sentence together, abandoning his caveman speak in favor of an intelligent conversation. "What are you burning us for breakfast?"

Greg shot him a look of mock-annoyance as he turned back to his eggs with a theatrical huff. "Well," he began, "I was cooking us some scrambled eggs, but I suppose I'll be the only one eating. You know, 'cause yours will be thrown out and all."

"G, that hurts. It was an affectionate question."

"You're just hungry," Greg replied, grinning at Nick's empathetic nod. "You'd eat my family's fish pudding if I set it down in front of you."

"I wouldn't go that far, G. And do you know how cruel it would be to starve your one true love on Christmas?"

"One true love?" Greg asked, arching an eyebrow to question the classification. "Think pretty highly of yourself, don't you Nicky?"

"Humor me, Greg."

"I think that can be arranged," Greg replied, grabbing two plates from the cupboard before wielding the spatula once more. "Mind popping in some toast?"

Nick took a sip of his coffee and nodded before turning to look for the loaf of bread. As he immersed himself in the task, Greg tore his eyes away from their cooking breakfast to observe his significant other. He never thought Nick could fall for him and all of his eccentric habits; he certainly never thought they would be sharing a house and spending their third Christmas together. Greg bit his lip and turned back to the stove; he loved Nick so much. Did he really want to risk everything with one question?

Greg shifted, the weight of the ring box suddenly heavy in his pocket. He had bought the rings months ago, in the middle of an August heat wave. The air had been blistering, the sand scorching, the entire state in a ceaseless state of searing heat. The rings hadn't, however, been a heat-induced buy. Greg had mulled it over for almost a year, carefully considering the pros and cons of marriage. They wouldn't be recognized as a real married couple in Nevada, but Nick had always wanted to visit Norway; they could get married there. Besides, it was the principle of the thing. That, and he loved Nick with all he had. They lived together anyway, and they had each other's names on their medical papers. That's what he kept telling himself: rings were just rings with no legal significance, so why was he so nervous at the thought of asking?

"What'd those eggs ever do to you, G?" Nick asked, peering over Greg's shoulder at Greg's unconsciously violent cooking. The younger man had been so lost in his thoughts that the eggs had gone from scrambled to bruised within the span of a minute.

"Guess I got a little carried away," Greg replied, grinning sheepishly as he turned off the stovetop burner and began splitting the meal in half.

He prepared the plates and poured two glasses of milk as Nick buttered the fresh toast. They took their food towards the couch, bypassing the dining room table; it was covered in a various array of needing-to-be-heated casseroles, dishes, and hastily wrapped gifts. They were always so busy with work that the presents were often bought, but the actual wrapping was another story altogether. Greg's excuse for his poorly presented presents was that wrapping paper ruined forests and that he didn't want to participate in the demolition of his country, but Nick knew Greg simply dreaded the thought of fighting with the scissors, tape, and large rolls of colorful paper. The younger man was a terrible wrapper; most boxes looked as though thugs had assaulted them before the gift was even placed underneath the tree. As a matter of fact, Greg's five favorite words in any department store were We offer free gift wrapping!

They ate in a comfortable silence, Greg too lost in his own thoughts to really talk much. As they inhaled their breakfast, Nick finally beginning to gain grasp of the living world, Greg took a deep breath and gave himself a mental pep talk.

Okay Sanders, you can do this. Really. Forget your nervous nausea and uncertainties. You love Nick, right? Of course you do! So just ask the man already.

Huh. Mental pep talks just weren't as inspiring as he'd hope. No matter how much he attempted to bolster his confidence, the words were falling flat in his mind. Greg took a ferocious bite of toast and decided to change tactics; if he couldn't encourage himself with inspiring words, then he'd have to settle on logic.

Use your common sense, Sanders. If Nick doesn't want to get married, then he'll simply decline the offer and you'll keep on with your normal routine. You share a house with the man. You've come out to your family, your friends… he won't leave you just because of one tiny, insignificant question.

It still wasn't working for him.

For the love of all things Holy, just ask. You're verging on pathetic, Sanders. Talking's your strongpoint, so start rambling before you lose the nerve.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind chanted What nerve? What nerve? You don't have any nerve!, but Greg was quick to ignore it. (He hated that voice. It sounded like his fourth grade teacher.) Greg knew that if he allowed himself to dwell on it any further, he'd talk himself out of it and would end up using the rings as napkin rings instead. It was now or never; no guts, no glory; no pain, no gain. Wait, how many clichéd phrases were there? He supposed it didn't matter. All he needed was another calming breath, a serene state of mind, and perhaps some confidence.

"Nick," he began, turning towards his partner. "I was kind of… I mean, I have something I want to ask you."

Nick arched an eyebrow and donned a playful smile, setting his plate on the coffee table in front of them. "Yeah? And what's that, G?"

"Nicky, I bought- I was wondering if you'd like to… y'know, we've been talking about Norway and I was thinking we could get m-''

Greg's flailing, fumbling words were cut off by the tonal resonance of the doorbell.

The blonde blinked, the disturbance unexpected. He was in the middle of asking Nick to marry him; how dare someone decide to stop by! Who in the world could possibly be? It was their holiday and they were supposed to spend it alone. Together. Without interruptions. Greg wanted to protest as Nick rose from his place on the couch, indicating that's he'd return momentarily, because this was terribly wrong. Greg let out a few shocked words that sounded something like "Wait, I wasn't finished." as Nick made his way to their front door, peered through their front window before flashing a confused smile, and opened the door to one Jacqui Franco.

Greg had, by then, joined Nick while trying to re-strategize his proposal plan. Although he was mentally outraged, he still couldn't help but think that perhaps Jacqui's unexpected arrival had been a good thing. After all, his stuttered words didn't exactly scream 'love'. Who proposed on a couch in the middle of morning? Not him. Nope. It definitely needed to be more romantic. Jacqui had merely stopped Greg from doing something stupid and, after some consideration, he felt better about her intrusion. All he had to do is wait for night to fall; he could light some candles and even bend on one knee. They still did that, right?

"Jacqui?" Nick asked, oblivious to Greg's ornate scheming. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey guys," she greeted, giving them an uncharacteristically embarrassed smile. "Look, I never invite myself to people's homes, but today has been going downhill really fast. Can I come in?"

"Sure, of course," Greg replied, quickly moving out of the way, his mind beginning to focus on the stressed look in Jacqui's eyes. "What's the matter? Is everything okay?"

She heaved a sigh as she passed the threshold and headed towards their kitchen, clutching her purse in one hand and a large brown paper bag in the other.

"Well, it's a long story," she began as she hoisted the monstrous sack onto their dining room table. "I woke up at six this morning and put in the turkey. Do you know what I found in my oven four hours later? A stone cold bird, Greg. My stove completely fritzed out on me and now all I have are these cold casseroles and a turkey that's harder than a rock and more frozen than the Artic." She indicated that bag's contents with a nod of her head before pausing and taking a breath, obviously irritated by her faulty cooking equipment. "I know Catherine's with Lindsey and Warrick's with Tina. I know Sara and Grissom aren't exactly the most festive people to spend your time with and I figured that maybe I could…" She trailed off, her pride making it difficult to speak. "I figured I'd stop by Greg's to maybe heat up whatever I had left and then I thought how depressing it would be spending Christmas alone anyway. So I was thinking maybe I could spend Christmas with you guys. You understand, right? Am I interfering? All you have to do is say the word and I'll be gone."

Greg wanted to say no –he really, really did- because today was supposed to be his and Nick's. He was going to propose and they were going to celebrate (or Nick was going to kick him out of the house; it was one or the other), but none of this could happen if Jacqui was there. But could Greg, in good conscious, really deny her? She was one of his best friends and today presented the perfect opportunity for them to catch up on things. They hadn't been able to see each other as much since he became a real CSI. Besides, there was no way Nick could let her spend Christmas alone.

And so it was decided.

"I can't believe you even had to ask," Greg replied, shaking his head playfully as he glanced into the bag. "However, your degree of welcome all depends on how good of a cook you are."

"I'm a magnificent cook."

"Tell that to my broken tooth."

"I made those brownies just like the recipe said to. And your tooth wasn't broken," Jacqui muttered, rolling her eyes. "How can you break your tooth on a baked good?"

"My dentist asked me the same thing. Poor guy just couldn't get his head around it."

12:32 AM

Greg was chewing on his right thumbnail (an unhealthy habit, as Mia had been quick to inform him) as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, having a staring contest with a can of cranberry sauce. He could hear the voices of Jacqui and Nick in the living room, laughing as they put up the last of the decorations. It wasn't that Greg was upset about her being there… but the ring box was getting heavier and heavier, a reminder that he either needed to gather up his courage or give up entirely. And as much as he loved Jacqui, he couldn't ask Nick to marry him while she was there. It would change every variable in the equation; she would feel embarrassed and Nick would feel obligated and Greg would just feel plain stupid. It wasn't an option.

He had to re-strategize.

He grabbed the can opener and began opening the cranberry sauce container with an unhealthy amount of determination. Jacqui couldn't be everywhere at once. Maybe he should just forget the romantic theme and ask in a casual manner while he and Nick were in the kitchen or something. Nick had never been big on the theatrics, so he would appreciate a straightforward approach more then anything, right? Of course he would. It was only logical.

His resolute can-opening was ceased by the sound of the doorbell. It rang throughout the house and Greg froze as he heard Nick call, "I've got it!"

Greg took a deep breath. Maybe it was a salesman. Or a homeless guy. Or a girl scout. Wait, did they sell cookies this time of year?

He remained both still and silent as he listened to voices; he could hear Jacqui distinctly ask, "Oh hey! What are you going here?" and then Nick add, "You look like you're freezing. Get in here, man!"

Who was invading their house? And how long were they planning to stay? He smeared on a painful smile and bounded out of the kitchen to see who was shadowing his front door. As Jacqui had pointed out, Grissom and the rest of the night crew had their own holiday plans, so it couldn't possibly be one of them. Was it an unexpected family member? Had Greg forgotten that his parents were visiting? Or a niece or nephew? Or cousin? Maybe it was-

"Archie?"

Greg paused when he saw the A/V tech standing in the middle of his living room, bundled up in numerous layers of clothing while carrying a white plastic grocery bag.

"Hey guys," Archie said, donning a sheepish smile and giving the three a small wave.

"Let me guess," Greg began, his marriage plans beginning to crumble before his eyes. "Your stove broke."

"Not quite," Archie replied. "It's kind of funny, actually."

"Then by all means," Greg retorted, his voice dry as he spoke. (Upon hearing his tone, he realized that he'd been spending far too much time with David.) "Humor us."

"Well, everything was going pretty well this morning. I was just going to heat up some stuff my mom sent via UPS, but then someone knocked out a power pole around noon. Our street doesn't have any electricity."

"And you think you can con a day with us?"

"Jacqui's here," Archie argued. "And I brought sustenance. Kicking me out would be like… well, it would be really bad."

"No one's kicking anyone out," Nick replied and Greg had to smile. Nick was always so hospitable and friendly; that was only one of the reasons he had fallen in love with him. "It's just a regular party now. Is that food?"

"But of course!" the technician replied, affronted. "Homemade pie and store bought eggnog."

"The feast of champions," Greg surmised. Archie grinned and nodded, gratefully accepting the invitation to stay. Jacqui looked up from her duty of sprinkling onion rings on the green bean casserole to give Archie a big smile.

"Are you sure your story isn't just an excuse to spend the day in my presence?"

"Of course," Archie replied, jokingly solemn. "Not only do I get to revel in your glorious company, but I get to use Greg's oven as well. Otherwise my food would be cold."

"You can always use that hot air in your head," Greg innocently replied as he took the two cartons of eggnog and placed them in the cool confines of the refrigerator.

"Hardy har har," Archie replied, his spirits high. "Nicky, I don't know how you live with such a comedian."

"Effort and patience," Nick instantly replied, Greg sticking out his tongue in response. Nick laughed before swooping down and capturing a swift kiss. For a moment, Greg forgot all about his visitors or dinner or the rings that were burning a hole in his pocket; it was just them, just he and Nick, and the world could wait for a few seconds while they reminded themselves of this fact.

The world, however, was an incredibly intrusive entity. (Or Jacqui was, at least.) They were disrupted by her singsong voice, a mixture of smugness and jesting. "PDA!" she chanted, her grin bordering on lecherous. "Greg, you have no idea how lucky you are."

"Oh yes I do," Greg promptly responded. "So don't think you can weasel him out of my clutches. I have spies everywhere."

"Damn," she playfully muttered. "My plan's ruined!"

Greg smiled and then laughed, truly enjoying his friend's company. Archie and Jacqui were there, so his chances of popping The Question were becoming slimmer, but it wasn't completely impossible and the day was only half over. Abundant opportunities of proposal awaited him.

All he had to do was re-strategize.

3:17 AM

"Dave?" Greg asked, arching a disbelieving eyebrow. Indeed, his eyes weren't deceiving him; David Hodges stood at his doorstep, looking cold with a cup of miserable and a pinch of exhaustion to taste. David grimaced before sending a dark look towards the younger man and said, "No, I'm the ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. I foresee death in your future, particularly your own."

"Aren't you just filled with the Christmas spirit?" Greg asked, crossing his arms and donning a grin. He had been slaving away in the kitchen not forty-five seconds ago when the door bell's ability to ring was tested yet again; Archie, Jacqui, Nick, and Greg had exchanged bewildered glances, but Greg ended up answering anyway. "Besides, do you really want to play the sarcasm card? After all, you're on my doorstep wanting to come into my house. You're obviously in desperate need of something."

"I know you're in desperate need of some intelligence," David muttered as Greg let out a gasp of mock hurt, clutching at his chest in a theatrical manner. "And besides, isn't this Nick's house as well? I think your boyfriend has a say-so in the matter of who can visit and who can't. Now move before I freeze."

"I'll have you know that Nick trusts my judgment implicitly. And what would you know about boyfriends anyway, Mr. I Haven't Had a Boyfriend Since College?"

"Greg, don't tease him," Jacqui admonished from behind, prying the door from Greg's solid grasp and sending her friend a sympathetic look. "He's been down ever since Ryan broke up with him. You should try and be nice."

"Jacqui!" David protested, scandalized that his personal life was being revealed to his friendly arch-nemesis. "Thanks for sharing that with everyone. Remind me never to give you my bank number."

"Who's Ryan?" Greg asked, appalled that he hadn't been part of the juicy news. Between wading through lab samples and rushing to scenes, he hadn't had the time to gossip with his technician friends like he used to. He could sometimes snatch a few words with one of them if it involved his case, but he certainly never had the chance of sitting down, sharing a good cup of coffee in the break room, and gossiping like they used to. (Well, David never actually gossiped. He took his breaks with them and shared the same pot of coffee, but was never inclined to reveal personal information or partake in hearsay.)

That had been three years ago. Since then, Jacqui had threatened David with bodily harm unless he divulged something remotely personal at least once a month.

But despite these limitations, Greg would have expected to catch wind of something as monumental as David having a boyfriend. Where had he been? How could he have missed out on something so shocking? He knew he absolutely had to get the details lest he combust with curiosity or, upon further reflection, astonishment.

"Who's Ryan? Where's he from? What happened?" Greg felt the questions begin rolling from his mind onto his tongue and he had to restrain himself from asking more than three at a time.

"Oh Greg," Jacqui sighed, shaking her head in mock sorrow. "You've been missing out on the best stuff since you've left the lab."

"I know Jacq, but don't leave me hanging. I need facts, times, and places. Spare nothing!"

"You know that Miami conference David went to a few months ago?" she asked, Greg pausing to try and recall the event. Miami? That sounded vaguely familiar. Did David go to that?

"I think so," Greg replied. "Go on."

"Anyway, David met Ryan in Miami. Let me tell you, this guy is gorgeous in his own little way. Sweet, charmi-''

"He gets the picture," David cut in as he entered the house, brushing past the blonde and not waiting for an invitation. Greg didn't protest; as a matter of fact, he closed the door with a bit of a dazed expression, hanging onto Jacqui's every word. He still couldn't believe that David Hodges had gotten himself a boyfriend, only to have him taken away.

"Anyway," Archie continued, obviously hip with the facts. "They met at the conference, right? They hung out for a little while and one thing led to another."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Greg exclaimed, absolutely shocked. "I mean, David? And some guy named Ryan? Together in Miami? That's just…"

"Romantic?" Jacqui supplied.

"I don't think that's the word Greg was looking for," Nick retorted. (David, for good measure, sent a dark look his way as well.)

"In any case," Archie said, "They dated for four months, long distance. Ryan broke it off a week ago."

"Said he didn't want to keep David back," Jacqui supplied, frowning. "The bastard."

"Well, you have to understand his point of view," Nick said, obviously mulling it over. "If you're separated by an entire country, imagine the resentment someone might begin feeling if they're obligated to stay true to a person they hardly ever see. I'm sure Ryan didn't want David to start feeling that way."

There was a silence before Nick winced at their pointed frowns and asked, "I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?"

Jacqui stuck her hands on her hips and shook her head. "We're roasting the man, Nick. He made David miserable and thus we hate him. That's how this works."

"Right. Sorry."

"He didn't mean to make me miserable," David interjected. "And Nick does have a point. Resentment forms due to obligation."

"David, shush. You're heart broken, remember?"

"David has a heart?" Greg asked, feigning shock and trying to get the older man to crack a rare smile.

"Yeah, but it's like the Grinch's. Two sizes too small," Archie replied and then, after a moment, grinned. "You're a monster, Mr. Grinch," he began, the familiar tune making Greg grin as well.

"Your heart's an empty hole," the blonde continued. "Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Mr. Grinch."

"I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole," Nick helpfully added. David turned and sent him a less-than-menacing glare, mouthing "traitor" before turning back towards the two songbirds.

"I'm leaving," David announced, crossing his arms in annoyance. "I can get this abuse at work and still get paid."

His words were barely heard over the two crooning men, who had decided to unite in their efforts and sing in unison.

"You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smiiile. You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch."

"Given the choice between the two of you I'd take the seasick crocodile," David deadpanned as Greg smiled. The blonde bopped over to him and slung a friendly arm around David's neck.

"Aw, we're sorry. We know your tiny heart has been crushed. We're just trying to cheer you up."

"If equating me with a hairy green Dr. Seuss character is your way of cheering me up, then I have no choice but to tell you that you're failing. Miserably, I might add."

"So what would make you feel better? We'll do anything that's within the law."

"You know what would be cheerful? Watching you jump off of a cliff. That's something that you can't buy in a store."

"Can't wrap my demise with a bow," Greg agreed. "Until then, how about assisting me in the kitchen?"

"Helping you to do what, burn the house down?"

"I can cook."

"You still eat ramen noodles, Greg. It doesn't say much for your culinary skills."

"I make an awesome sweet potato casserole."

"Probably came out of a box."

"You're a horrid guest. Did you know that?"

"It's been hinted."

"And where's a food offering? Jacqui brought a bag full of edibles and Archie brought some pie and eggnog."

"What, the pleasure of my company isn't enough?"

Greg laughed and shook his head. "No way."

"Relax. I've got a Yule log in the car."

"What if I don't like Yule logs?"

"Then you're going to have to deal with it."

"But-''

"Oh, would you come on already? I've got to make sure you don't kill us with your cooking," David replied, heading towards the kitchen.

Greg smiled as he followed the trace technician into his kitchen. It was quite possible that the universe was trying to mess with his intricate proposal plots, but Greg merely took a long breath and began cooking once more. Quite frankly, all he needed was a new strategy. It wasn't as if the techs lived there; they had to leave sometime. And when they did, Greg would just ask. No pretences. No fancy speeches. Just pop the question.

5:58

Between balancing a bowl of corn pudding in one hand and a bag of pecans in the other, Greg didn't have any means with which to answer his ringing phone. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that someone was trying to contact he or Nick, so he managed to place the bag between his knees, the paper recipe between his lips, and the bowl in his left arm as he reached for the cordless. This had better be good; deliriously, wondrously good, preferably of the "you've-just-won-the-jackpot!" variety.

"He'o?" he asked, trying to speak with the paper still hanging between his lips.

"Greg?" It was the uncertain voice of Bobby Dawson.

"Bobby?"

"If you're busy, I can call back in a few minutes."

"'o! 'ust a mi'ute."

Greg quickly stuffed the recipe in his pocket and re-balanced the bowl, trying to get a better grasp of the phone.

"Hey Bobby. What's up?" he asked, finally able to talk like a normal human being. (Or, at least, as normal as he could be.)

"Nothin' much. I've run outta some ingredients and none of the stores are open, so I thought I could borrow some?"

"Yeah, sure! Where are you?"

"On your front door step."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I figured I'd give you a chance to think about it before I barged in."

"Well, the door's open. You might as well join the party."

Greg craned his neck to peer at the front door; indeed, in inched open until Bobby poked his head through, catching Greg's eye from the kitchen. Bobby grinned at the younger man's frazzled state.

"Need some help?" he called, laughing as he snapped his cell shut and closed the door behind him.

And as much as Greg adored Bobby in every shape, way, and form, he couldn't help but hear a tiny bit of his heart shatter. Greg had a feeling that Bobby wouldn't be leaving any time soon, which meant any chance he had of proposing was simply gone. Was he being selfish? Giving his situation a scrutinizing inspection, he had to admit that he was. How could possibly be upset by the fact that he was surrounded by his best friends? In truth, he couldn't. Not really.

And as Bobby quickly helped with the bowl and pecans, Greg felt that tiny bit of his heart mend immediately.

7:57

It had taken a subtle mix of patience and humor to get everything on the table –Nick and Greg's entire feast, Jacqui's casseroles, Archie's pie and eggnog, David's Yule log, Bobby's wine- and then even more elaborate choreographing to find everyone's proper seat. But Nick and Greg had done it with a minimal amount of insanity, so they considered it an astounding success if they did say so themselves.

Unlike Jacqui's brownies, the rest of her food offerings were delicious and Greg knew he'd probably be regretting it in the morning, but he was a carpe diem type of man, so he pushed back thoughts of extra carbohydrates and fat content to be mulled over another a day. Or possibly never, but who was he to say? Archie's pie had been made by his mom, so it, of course, looked fabulous. It was a secret that David could cook (a secret that he didn't like to broadcast, so Greg felt it was his duty to inform everyone that he made an omelet that put Martha Stuart to shame.) and Bobby's wine was the perfect addition to their meal. That food mixed with the laughter made it that much better, and although spending time alone with Nick was the greatest thing on Earth, spending time like these with his friends was almost just as good. The smile on his boyfriend's face told him that he most certainly agreed.

Twenty minutes into their meal, the tonal resonance of their doorbell suspended their animated conversation. Jacqui looked surprised at the sound before she glanced back at the table, which was currently only seating five. (There had been a unanimous vote that David should go in search of the butter. It had been five minutes and he still hadn't found it; of course, Greg's disaster-zone fridge didn't exactly help matters.)

"We're all here except for Ronnie, but he's at home with the wife and kids. I wonder who that is?" Greg didn't know either; as a matter of fact, he couldn't imagine that he even knew anyone else who could stop by, so he ran a mental checklist of all of his acquaintances through his mind. This time, it had to be a salesman or charity or girl scout. Who else would it be?

"I'll get it," Archie offered, quickly rising from his seat and all but bolting towards the door. Greg, Nick, Jacqui, and Bobby exchanged curious looks before shrugging, simply waiting for Archie to announce their new guest. However, Jacqui wasn't a patient woman; she leaned to her left, practically curving over Archie's empty chair and straining to see who had decided to stop buy. After a moment, her efforts were rewarded; as she peered beyond the wall and various pieces of furniture, her eyes grew two sizes larger and she allowed her jaw to drop.

Greg's reaction was appropriately alarmed. "Jacq? Who is it?" he asked, craning to catch a glimpse of what Jacqui had seen.

"It's Ryan!" she whispered in response, obviously excited to see the younger man. "How in the world did he ever find this place?"

Her question went unanswered as Archie, who obviously knew Ryan as well, welcomed the Floridian inside Nick and Greg's home. Ryan Wolfe, for what little Greg knew about, looked appropriately embarrassed and began stammering apologies about showing up unexpectedly. He and Archie were conversing as they crossed the living room and reentered the dining room, Archie attempting to alleviate Ryan of his concerns while answering his rushed questions, which were alternating between "I'm really sorry to just barge in. Do they mind?" and "Is David here?"

Ryan, not waiting for a reply, looked towards the table with a worried expression. Bobby sent a small wave while Ryan attempted a smile, the CSI's reception lacking warmth. Upon noting that their gathering was void of a certain trace technician, Ryan seemed to deflate like that of a balloon, his shoulders slumping and his hand raising so that he could rub his eyes, obviously tired and fretful.

"Hey Ryan," Bobby said, his voice uncertain. "I didn't know you were comin' by."

"Hi Bobby," Ryan returned, attempting a brave face as he ran his hand through his tousled hair. "It's nice to see you. I… it's complicated. I don't suppose you know where I could find David, do you? I really have to talk to him."

"Depends on what you want to talk to him about," Jacqui retorted, crossing her arms in an unwelcoming motion. "If you're here to crush his heart into pieces, then you can just forget it."

Ryan sighed and sent her a pleading look. Nick and Greg exchanged glances; this had to be, without a doubt, the strangest Christmas they'd ever had. But how could they ignore the stranger's near exasperation? His obvious desperation to find David? If he was fraught enough to fly across the country, then that had to mean something.

The stranger opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the man whom he sought so desperately. Indeed, David walked in, completely oblivious to their new company. He shot Greg an annoyed look and shook his head, exasperated at the blonde's ability to keep his refrigerator in a constant state of calamity.

"Sanders, I'd check your fridge. Whatever might have resembled butter is pretty much a hardened yellow blob that's mutated on the bottom shelf," David announced, walking in and setting down the bowl of margarine Jacqui had brought with her from home. "I'm surprised it isn't breathing and plotting a world take-over."

However, no one commented on this. They remained silent in their chairs as David, still unaware of the new addition, sent Jacqui an odd look.

"What's his problem?" he asked, nodding towards Greg. Her smile the only response he received from the woman.

"You were right, Jacqui," Greg finally said, a small smile mirroring her own. "He is kind of cute. The sweater vest really says something."

David blinked at the comment before glancing at the table and, upon realizing Archie was missing from his seat, turned around. He opened his mouth, intent on retorting with something that was probably painfully witty, but his words died on his tongue.

The technician was, for once, speechless.

Ryan had obviously been attacked by the same disease, because he had a million apologies but none came tumbling out. His nervousness was painfully evident; he glanced at David with brown eyes, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shoved his hands in his pocket and then retracted them again. They finally fell limp at his sides as he and David stayed silent, neither man able to speak.

All was quiet.

Finally, Ryan managed to reacquaint himself with the English language and form a few one-syllable words. "Hi," he began, barely able to meet David's gaze. "I'm glad I found you."

David, for all his sarcasm and wit, didn't look to be faring much better when it came to verbal communication. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to tell you that…" Ryan cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed by his audience. "I came to say I'm sorry. I shouldn't have broken things off. I made a mistake."

David opened his mouth to say something –anything- but his usual state of mind abandoned him. And because he was a scientist, he was filled with curiosity and questions. How had Ryan found them? Did he want to get back together? Was David dreaming?

"How did you find this house?" he asked, at last able to gather his wits… or what remained of them.

Ryan let out a short, anxious laugh, his fear and fatigue pouring through. "I went to your apartment first, but you weren't there. Then I hit the lab and Judy from the front desk said you were off. So I asked her where you might be and she gave me this look that clearly said I was the craziest jackass who had ever walked into the building, but she gave me Grissom's phone number and I called him up. He said he had no idea where you were, so he gave me Catherine's. Catherine gave me Sara's, Sara gave me Warrick's, and Warrick gave me Archie's because it was the only technician number he could remember. You guys are obviously friends and it only made sense that you would spend the holidays together, so I called Archie who gave me Nick and Greg's address." Ryan ran his hand through his hair and shifted his weight from his right foot to this left. "So here I am. Not that I expect you to break into song, but I just… I love you. And I miss you. And if we could start over, then I'll do anything to make this work."

There was a silence punctured only by the glances that were shot in Archie's direction. The A/V master had known of Ryan's journey but hadn't said anything? In most circumstances, David would have killed him for that… but this wasn't any normal circumstance and David didn't appear to have the brain function to murder anyone anyway.

"Are you saying that you'll move here? To Las Vegas?" David asked, his tone one of suspicion. He had been hurt before and was always careful with his romantic interests, for what few there were. Actually, after his divorce, there had never been anyone special enough to grace his life save for one Ryan Wolfe.

Ryan's dark eyes found David's and he nodded, confirming David's question. "Anything," he replied. "I'll do anything. There's a Seven Eleven two blocks from your apartment. It needs a night manager."

"I refuse to let you waste yourself at a convenience store," David announced, crossing his arms. "You're a CSI."

"I know. It's just a suggestion for the second worst case scenario."

"Second worst case scenario? God, I'd hate to know the first."

"The first would be if you didn't take me back," Ryan replied. David, obviously not expecting such a response, allowed his startled surprise to break through. Ryan licked his lips and glanced at his shoes. "I… I know this is going to sound so phony, but all we had were pictures and phone calls to keep us together. We couldn't actually see each other, you know? And I always thought that a lot of people probably liked you and I didn't want you to start feeling bitter about me because I was keeping you back from having fun. So I decided to end things to stop that from happening."

There was a silence before Greg let out a low whistle. "If you think people like David or that he even has fun, you're in for a shock."

Jacqui kicked his shin from underneath the table and he fell into a hush, giving a slight wince in pain before returning his attention to the drama unfolding before him.

"Go on," she demanded, turning her attention back towards Ryan. She was so fiercely protective of those she loved and it was clear that she didn't trust just anyone who decided to waltz into her friend's life.

Ryan cleared his throat, his face beginning to tinge peak from the embarrassment. "But things didn't really work out the way they were supposed to. I talked to Calleigh and Eric about it and they said we have to work for things like this, to try as hard as we could. So I…" At this, he let out another anxious laugh. "I hopped the next plane to Las Vegas. I had no idea what I was doing or what was going to happen, but I just wanted to see you so badly."

Ryan looked almost fearful at David's silence, but visibly relaxed when the technician shot him a small smile. "That would qualify as being impulsive, Wolfe. Word around Miami is that you've never been such a thing."

"First time for everything, right?"

"So I've heard."

"So do you want… do you want to try this again? Only we can live in the same town this time?" Ryan asked, letting out a small, apprehensive laugh that portrayed his every insecurity.

"I don't know how," David confessed. "I don't want you to leave or anything. It's just…" He glanced at the table, whose occupants were listening with rapture. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh, hell," he muttered. "It's not like this happens everyday."

So he walked towards the Floridian, who looked rather alarmed, and kissed him. Just like that. No airs, no theatrics, no to-dos.

It wasn't short but it wasn't long, either; short enough to not border on desperate, but long enough to ensure that it was definitely more than friendly and that Ryan was most certainly forgiven.

David broke away and said, "My hesitance stems from the fact that we've got five people frothing at the mouth, trying to see what happens next. I've never been a big PDA fan. Well, not in front of them, anyway. They're lecherous."

"Right," Ryan murmured, his eyes wide due to relief and a small amount of utter shock.

"I think this is the part where David's heart grows three sizes bigger," Greg stage whispered, making Archie snort with laughter and giving the room a new tone, devoid of any uncertainties. David turned and although Greg knew there was a barb coming his way, the technician looked genuinely happy, his blue eyes filled with something that Greg hadn't seen in a long time.

"Hungry?" David asked, letting go of his now boyfriend, ushering him towards the table.

"Oh no, I don't want to-''

"Don't be ridiculous," Bobby interjected. "There's tons of room."

"And by 'tons', he means, of course, a few feet," Jacqui remarked. "But we definitely want you to stay a while. Hey, we've got casseroles. And ham."

"But if you love your teeth, don't eat Jacqui's brownies," Bobby advised. "It's a dentist visit just waiting to happen."

"Excuse you?" Jacqui asked, her upset tone betrayed by her smile. "I'll have you know that I followed that recipe exactly."

"Who gave it to you, a troll?" Archie asked, raising his eyebrows. "You could build a castle with them. A big, brick-like brownie castle. Not even Hansel and Gretel would stop by."

As Greg listened to his companions taunt back and forth, he couldn't help but smile to himself. His numerous and complicated plans of proposing were nonexistent at that point, but he supposed that there was always tomorrow. Besides, it didn't really matter what day he proposed, just so long as he did. How could he be upset at the fact that he was surrounded by his closest, dearest friends? Or that Nick was still sitting right next to him, eager to be in this relationship even without a ring? His strategies had flown out the window, but he supposed maybe that was a sign. Maybe today wasn't really the day.

However, considering his plan hadn't worked, he didn't see the sense in carrying around a ring box in his pocket, especially since he didn't have the intention of using them that day. He was mulling over whether he should fake a trip to the bathroom and make a pit stop to his and Nick's bedroom instead to re-hide the rings. This was probably a wise call; out of habit, his hand reach down to feel for the box in his pocket.

That's when the world stopped.

His heart plummeted into the darkest depths of his stomach when he felt both pockets and realized that the box. Was. Gone.

He quickly instructed himself not to respond to the suddenly dire circumstances. He had to be calm and act natural. The conversation around him seemed to fade away as he took a swift, relaxed look around, trying to see if the velvet package had simply tumbled from its home and onto the floor nearby. He glanced beneath his chair ever so slightly, hoping that it was close and not laying in plain sight, especially for Nick to find. Sure, there were bad ways of proposing, but for your intended husband to simply stumble upon the rings while doing something mundane like laundry was… well, it was sad. Just plain sad. Pathetic, even. His stomach revolted as he quickly began listing where he could of lost his precious cargo. The kitchen?

"I'll get our guest a plate," Greg announced, hurriedly standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

Ryan blinked before shaking his head. "You don't have to do tha-''

"Don't be ridiculous," Greg replied, bleeding heartfelt friendship and innocence. "I can't eat in front of someone if they aren't eating too."

"That's such a load," Bobby snorted, David laughing into his glass of tea.

"I'll be right back," Greg finished, ignoring the remark.

He scuttled towards the other room, hoping upon hope that perhaps the box was somewhere on the kitchen floor. That's where he had been most of the day; that, and the living room. And hallways. And bedroom, preparing his last gifts. Damn! He had been in every room, including the basement! He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The house wasn't a castle; if the box fell out, then it was in one of the rooms and could easily be found within a matter of minutes. He'd grab Ryan a plate and glass (and maybe even some cutlery) and fake a trip to the bathroom, investigating each room as quickly as possible. Then, because he had learned his lesson, he'd definitely stash the box away to be used on a later date. He couldn't risk losing it again.

At least, that had been his plan.

Until he walked back into the dining room, a new type of solemn silence filling the previously rowdy space.

"Whoa," he said, trying to keep his voice light. He set the plate, flatware, and glass in front of Ryan as he glanced at the stunned faces of his guests. Where had the conversation disappeared to? "Who died while I was gone?"

It was at that moment that he caught sight of Bobby, who was holding up a certain velvet box that held a certain pair of rings. It was open, the six obviously having tried to figure out what it contained. All eyes swiveled towards Greg's silent form, Bobby shifting in his chair, looking ashamed.

"I'm so sorry, Greg. My foot landed on it… it was underneath the table. I just picked it up. Archie said it wasn't his and Jacqui said it wasn't hers and Nicky didn't know what it was and it certainly ain't mine. Ryan and Dave ain't seen it before either. So we just… we opened it."

Greg slowly walked towards them before weakly setting down the plate and glass, staring at Bobby and then the box. Could he honestly get away with lying about it? Saying that it wasn't his? Unless they believed that someone had broken in last night and left engagement rings underneath the table, he doubted he could.

"Those are… they're mine, Bobby. Thanks for finding them."

Bobby hurriedly handed them over, bleeding regret. "I'm so sorry, Greg," he whispered, his genuine apology making Greg feel guilty. "I didn't think. I just opened it up and-''

"Bobby, don't worry about it. This might actually be a good thing."

"Greg, I don't possibly understand how this could be a-''

Greg put his index finger to his mouth, motioning for him to hush. He, Greg Sanders, could do this. They were just words and rings. It was just a question. He could do this.

He turned towards Nick, whose expression was one of disbelief, and decided that this had to be a sign. How much more obvious could it be? Bobby's discovery had kicked him into gear and he could only go with it. Greg took a deep breath, feeling as though he were having an out of body experience. Not even his voice sounded like his own, because he had a dozen different mental pep talks running through his mind as the voice of his fourth grade teacher taunted him with indiscernible words.

"Will you marry me?"

Nick blinked.

And then he blinked again.

Jacqui had a spoonful of cranberry sauce halfway to her lips, frozen in place. It wobbled precariously on the spoon before it fell back onto her plate, but she made no move to even put down her fork. She was staring at them with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open in a state of utter shock. Bobby, whose fingers had been wrapped around his glass of tea, had an equal reaction. A sumo wrestler couldn't pry him from his astonishment at the question, so there was no use for Greg to try. Archie's face was almost comical; eyes wide, mouth agape, his camera positioned to take a picture although he had no mental capacity to do so. Even Ryan, who didn't know them that well, had an air of incredulity around him.

Nick opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

"Oh my God," Greg groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. "I forgot one of the most important parts. I can't believe I asked like that."

Greg quickly scrambled over to Nick's chair, inwardly berating himself. How had he forgotten to bend on one knee? You didn't just ask while standing up in the middle of your dining room!

He swiftly knelt down and open the box again, intent on asking once more. However, another thought stopped him in his tracks. Was he on the correct knee? Wasn't there a certain way you went about this? He wished he had done the research before proposing.

"Which knee? Right or left?" he asked, throwing the question out and hoping someone knew the answer.

"Left," Ryan murmured, in enough of a conscious state to respond. Greg quickly shifting his position, balancing on his left knee instead.

"Okay," he said, taking in another deep breath. Rings? Check. Kneeling? Check. Dignity? He'd have to reflect on that one later.

"I know this is weird," Greg began, groping for the appropriate words. Why hadn't he written a speech for this? "But most of my plans have been shot, so this is my last resort. I…"

He glanced at his hands before chancing a look up, meeting Nick's brown eyes and somehow finding the words.

"I love you, Nicholas Stokes. You've made my life so full and so much more than it was before we met. Sometimes I think we were thrown together by some weird twist of fate and that we just barely made it to this point in our lives. All I know is that I'm so glad to have found you, and this is probably a little unconventional, but Norway's beautiful this time of year. A lot of people get married there."

At Nick's sustained silence, Greg continued. "We don't even have to go to Norway. Heck, we don't even have to leave this house. Just as long as we're together, Nick, that's all that matters to me."

Nick still appeared wholly stunned, looking at the rings before flickering his gaze upward to Greg's brown eyes, his earnest, nervous expression and his decidedly tame hair.

But David Hodges, who knew no bounds, merely raised an eyebrow.

"Stokes, I'd stutter an awkward reply sometime before the New Year."

As if the world had stopped and then started by a flip of a switch, Archie quickly grabbed his camera and snapped a photo, Bobby let go of his glass, and Jacqui all but threw down her fork and made a dive for her cell phone.

"What?" Nick asked, his voice one of pure disbelief. "You're asking…"

"You don't have to decide now," Greg hurriedly replied, taking his previous seat next to Nick and clutching the box to his chest. "I meant for you to think about it. Take all the time you want."

Jacqui was now dialing frantically on her cell. She glued it to her ear, waiting for a cheerful "Hello?" before saying, "Ronnie! Listen to this!" She held the phone up to Nick and Greg. Although this wasn't how Greg had planned it, Nick wasn't running away and thus he couldn't complain.

"All the…? Greg, why would I need time? I'm just- well, I'm surprised but…" Unable to find the right words, Nick merely leaned in and brushed their lips together. Greg felt his face flush, ignoring their spectators and savoring the moment. Nick broke their kiss and he whispered, "Of course I want to marry you."

"You will? Because I've done a pretty crummy job of asking."

Nick grinned and nodded. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Greg paused for a moment, trying to keep his emotions at bay. There hadn't been romance and candlelight. There hadn't been calm. There hadn't even been privacy. All he had managed to do was stutter out a few barely-coherent sentences in front of his best friends and an almost complete stranger, asking Nick to spend the rest of their lives together. In other words, his strategies had been absolute failures and he couldn't care less.

He blinked, grabbed Jacqui's phone, put it up to his ear, and announced, "Ronnie, Nick and I are getting married!"

And then, surrounded by all of his comrades on Christmas Day, proceeded to burst into a mess of happy, thankful tears.

FIN.