Title: Street of Dreams
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Ryan Wolfe
Series: 1) Catch Me I'm Falling, 2) Sparks, 3) Holding Steady, 4) More Than Ready, 5) Talk About It, 6) Confessions, 7) Fate's Plan, 8) Exposed, 9) A Matter of Feeling, 10) Loving Every Minute of It
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/CSI: Miami
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Mentions of rape.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Greg Sanders or Ryan Wolfe, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***

Ryan rose to his feet, looking around at the crime scene with narrowed eyes. It was the first one that he and Greg had been called to, and he still felt a little nervous about working with his boyfriend as his partner, even though no one had noticed anything so far.

The two of them had gone in to work in their separate cars, at different times -- Ryan had left Greg's place and gone directly there, and Greg had followed a few moments later, after giving him directions and leaving him at the door with a lingering kiss.

Ryan still felt as though his heart was dancing in his chest after hearing those words from Greg when they'd woken up -- words that he'd been sure he wouldn't hear for a long time in their relationship. It still amazed him that Greg could feel so strongly about him so soon.

But why should it? he asked himself. He felt just as strongly about Greg -- so it shouldn't surprise him that they'd apparently both been struck by Cupid's arrow at the same time. Fate, kismet, love at first sight -- whatever it was, it had hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks.

Their biggest problem was going to be keeping those feelings hidden while they were working. So far, it had been easy -- but then, this was the first case they'd been called out on. It might be different when they were working with the rest of the team.

It would be very hard to keep his emotions back if they should have to go into any situation where they had to use their weapons, and Greg was somehow in harm's way. Ryan seriously doubted his ability to keep a cool head if that kind of danger should come at them.

That wasn't something he needed to think about, he told himself firmly. He had to take their cases one at a time, and stop trying to look ahead to an eventuality that might not ever happen. He was being ridiculously paranoid, and he was sure that Greg would be the first to tell him so.

"I think we've got everything processed," Greg told him, his voice breaking the silence that had fallen while they worked. The cops had already gone, their questioning over and done with for the time being. "We need to get back to the lab and start working with it."

Ryan nodded, sighing as he looked down the street, and then back at the body. "Nobody who comes to Vegas ever thinks they're going to end up like this," he observed, shaking his head. "It's a long way from taking a walk down the street of dreams to being removed from it in a body bag."

"Everybody comes here with some kind of dream, whether it's finding the pot of gold at teh end of the rainbow or just having a good time," Greg told him, sounding regretful. "We see the end of that dream way too much for comfort sometimes."

"Was that what you felt like when you first came here?" Ryan asked, wondering just how Greg had felt about his adopted city when he'd first decided to make a life for himself within its precincts. "You don't seem like the type of person to fall for all the glitz and glamour."

"I didn't," Greg admitted, shaking his head. "Well, not completely. I was a club kid for a long time. I was into that whole scene -- gay and straight," he added, with a sideways glance at Ryan. "But I never went out and had indiscriminate one-night stands."

"I've had a few," Ryan admitted with a sigh, not looking at Greg. "But I've regretted them. They weren't even intended to be one-night stands. I just didn't feel the same way about the person after I'd slept with them. But before that, I'd thought ...."

His voice trailed off; he was embarrassed to have admitted that to Greg. He didn't want his boyfriend to think that he was some kind of slut who had spent his time in Miami going out and picking up people with the intention of getting laid and not much more.

"I understand," Greg said softly, reaching out to take his hand and give it a brief, gentle squeeze. "I've done that, too. You meet somebody, you go out, you think things are going to work out with them -- and then you find out that you're not cut out to be together after you've had sex."

"Exactly." Ryan felt a wave of relief sweep over him; Greg understood what he was saying, without having to hear an elaborate explanation of what he meant. There was almost a kind of emotional shorthand between them, something he'd never experienced with anyone else.

"It's part of the whole street of dreams thing you were talking about, I guess," Greg mused, glancing down the brightly-lit street again. "You start out with these big dreams, thinking that you've finally met 'the one' -- and then you find out they're just dreams, and not real."

"That's not how you feel about us, I hope," Ryan said softly as the two of them moved towards the van to drive back to the lab. "I'd hate to think that you went into this with big dreams and that I'm tearing them down. I want to build your dreams up to the skies, Greg."

"You do," Greg murmured as he opened the door on the driver's side of the van. "Just by being here. I'd kind of thought I might not have that many more dreams until I met you. Now it's like all of them have come true when I'd give up on most of them."

"If we weren't in a public place, I'd so kiss you right now," Ryan whispered as he pulled the door closed and looked over at the other man. There was a slight blush in Greg's cheeks, a hint of a smile on his lips, and Ryan couldn't help wondering just what he was thinking.

Greg started the van and pulled out into the street, driving slowly through the darkened streets. Ryan was fairly sure that he knew the way back to the lab -- but to his surprise, Greg pulled into what looked like nothing more than a dark back alley, then stopped the van and turned the lights off.

"You said you wanted to kiss me back there," he said softly, turning to face Ryan. "We might not have been able to do that in public -- but this place is pretty private. I don't think there's anybody around to see us kiss but the stray cats who hang out here."

Ryan didn't need any more encouragement than that; he unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over, his lips meeting Greg's in a kiss that started slowly and gently, then deepened until they both groaned with need as desire ignited within them both.

"I'm going to have a hard time not bending you over the desk and taking you when we get back to the office," Ryan whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I want you. Now. That's one dream that I wish could come true right this second."

He regretted his words the moment they were out of his mouth; after all that Greg had told him last night about his horrible first experience of being with another man, how could he talk so casually about "taking" him? He was a fool, an insensitive idiot.

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," Ryan rushed to explain, falling silent as a memory flashed through his own mind -- being bent over a desk in a far-off office somewhere in Miami, feeling cold metal shoving inside him, twisting, burning, tearing him ....

The memory almost brought a cry to his lips; the remembered pain was so sharp and clear in his mind that he had a hard time holding the sound back, but with an effort, he managed to do so. Raising a hand, he brought it to Greg's cheek, realizing that he was shaking.

"Ryan, what's wrong?" Greg asked softly, placing his own hand over Ryan's and twining their fingers together. "Did I do something wrong?" He sounded so worried, so concerned about what Ryan was feeling. No one had ever been that attuned to his moods before.

Ryan only shook his head, not wanting to put words to the memory. That would only make it more real, make it seem as though it was more in the present rather than left behind in the past that he'd tried to shut away when he'd made the decision to leave Miami for good.

"It's okay," he said, his voice hoarse. "Don't worry about me, Greg. I-I get flashbacks sometimes, and they aren't very pleasant. They don't have anything to do with you -- or with us. Sometimes a word will just trigger a memory that I wish I didn't have."

"That happens to me sometimes, too," Greg said softly, squeezing his hand again. "It's not a part of the street of dreams that I counted on having to walk down, but I guess there are bad parts of that street just as much as there are good ones."

Ryan nodded slowly, sighing as he looked out of the window. "You're right about that. Sometimes I think that street has way too many bad parts that it's easy to get lost in," he murmured, not realizing that he was squeezing Greg's hand tightly as he spoke.

"Then we'll walk down it together, and keep each other safe," Greg told him, his voice soft and a little husky. "Even if we've got to hide those feelings from the rest of the world. I've got your back, Ryan. Always. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

"I won't," Ryan whispered, reluctantly disentangling his fingers from Greg's so he could back the van out of the alley and head back to the lab. It might not always be easy to walk down the street of dreams, he thought to himself, but with Greg by his side, it would be a lot more fun.

***

Next story in series - One of Our Own.