Title: The Morning After
By: ullman
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not Mine

***

He wakes up feeling disorientated, the dark telling him it must still be night, but when he got home it was early in the morning, so shouldn't it be day by now? Not that he remembers all that much as to how he got home, all he can recall is hearing the birds, the same birds that he hears when he gets off work so it must have been early in the morning, right?

He blinks, maybe his vision's still blurred and he's missing something here. And why is his head pounding? Ah yes. Party. Must have been one hell of a party if he can't remember anything. Those are usually the best ones, or maybe that's just what he tells himself because he can't remember the actual parties. He vaguely recalls a lap dance. Parties involving lap dances are always good.

Blinking doesn't help, it only makes him realize he isn't in his own bedroom.
He smiles and closes his eyes again. Nick took him home. He almost allows himself to fall back to sleep when an alarming thought crosses his mind. What if Nick didn't take him home? Was Nick even at the party?

Slowly, he opens one eye, sighing in relief when he sees the familiar Stokes family picture on the night table. He reaches out with one hand, feeling the body next to him, without having to look he knows it's Nick's and he can't help but smile at himself for almost freaking out like that.

He turns to his side, sliding one arm around Nick's waist and shifting to get as close as possible. The pounding increases with every movement but he chooses to ignore it, makes a quick mental note that alcohol is bad and sighs again once he's succesfully plastered himself against Nick's body.

"Christ, Greg," Nick croaks.

He lifts his head, holding back a groan from the flash of pain that accompanies that particular movement. "What?" He manages to say only after swallowing several times.

"You smell, man."

"Gee, thanks." Greg says absentmindedly, wondering why Nick's yelling at him. Doesn't he know he's right there? "You don't have to shout at me, though."

Nick turns his head and smiles. "Hangovers are a bitch, aren't they?"

"I'm not hung over." Greg whines. He's not sure why he's whining, or why he's denying anything. Of course he's hung over. And Nick knows it too, which must be the reason why he's smiling so smugly. Greg rolls his eyes at him. "Okay, maybe I am."

Nick arches one eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Fuck you, Nick."

"Again? I'm not sure I'm up for that, Greg." Nick muses innocently before turning his head again.

Greg gasps. No way. He stares at the back of Nick's head in disbelief. "Nick?"

"Yes?"

"I fucked you? Jesus, I..." His voice trails off, searching for words he can't find because he's not thinking clearly and he can't believe what's happening, or happened for that matter. Well, he can believe it, it's the not remembering part that's bothering him.

Nick turns around, carefully as if he knows that any movement, even the slightest is enough to almost make Greg's head explode. And Greg's pretty sure that Nick does know that and that notion makes him feel even more guilty about forgetting about last night. He looks down, not meeting Nick's eyes and mumbles, "I'm sorry, I.."

The sound of Nick laughing softly makes him look up and seeing the amused glint in the other man's eyes, he realizes Nick's jerking his chain. He shakes his head, regrets doing that immediately and he squints his eyes at Nick. "I didn't fuck you, did I?"

Nick shakes his head. "You passed out before anything happened, Greg."

"Ass hole," Greg whispers.

Nick grins, still shaking his head. "You don't remember last night, do you?"

He doesn't, but for some reason he doesn't want to admit that. "We were at a party, and I drank a little too much. Not much more to it, I guess."

Nick nods slowly. "You sure about that?" When Greg doesn't answer him, he adds, "What was the party for, G?"

He knows that one. And if only Nick would stop staring at him, with his damn smug smile he'd be able to answer the question. "Birthday party." He guesses.

Nick nods again. "Whose birthday?"

Realizing it isn't so much Nick's staring, but the pounding of his head that makes thinking so fucking hard, he settles for another wild guess based solely on the lap dancing part. "Catherine's?"

"Guess again."

Okay so Nick knows he has no idea, still he won't confess to his apparent alcohol induced amnesia and he decides to take another stab at it. Because if it ain't Catherine's and knowing that it was Nick's birthday months ago, it can't be Grissom's either. That only leaves Warrick and Sara. They don't have a lot of other mutual friends, and certainly none that make him feel comfortable enough to get completely wasted. Not that he's ever going to do that again. Because alcohol. Bad. But the lap dancing. Sure as hell not Sara's party then. "Warrick."

"Took you long enough," Nick says, still smiling that same, irritatingly smug smile, and if Nick hadn't commented earlier on Greg's breath he'd kiss him just to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Yeah, well, lap dances aren't Sara's style, now are they?" Greg states, showing to Nick that he does know what went on last night. Sort of.

Nick shoots him a surprised look before laughing again. Out loud this time, causing Greg to wince at the pain shooting through his head.

Nick stops laughing immediately, reaches out to run his hand over Greg's cheek gently and says, "Sorry, Greg. It's just...You remember the lap dancing?"

The look in Nick's eyes tells him he's missing something, he closes his eyes, trying to remember what exactly happened there. Someone's lap. And he's dancing...Christ. He opens his eyes again, and whispers, "I did a lap dance?" Not really asking, because he already knows the answer.

"Yeah, you did."

Oh fuck. Greg groans. Doing a lap dance at Warrick's birthday party, could it get any more embarrassing? Well, doing a lap dance for Warrick would be worse. Double fuck. Maybe he did. "Tell me I wasn't doing one for Warrick."

"You weren't."

Greg sighs with relief. Sara or Catherine he can handle, they already think he's weird. Not that Warrick doesn't. Or Grissom for that matter. Grissom. He groans again. "Grissom?" He whispers.

Nick chuckles softly and shakes his head. "No. And thanks for the image, man."

He rolls his eyes at Nick, but smiles as well. "Well, thank god for that."

"Maybe you should put off thanking god for a second, Greg."

"Why?" Greg glares at Nick, he's confused now, what's the big deal with him doing a lap dance if it ain't for Grissom or Warrick. If only he could think straight, he would probably catch on a little faster. Or if Nick would just tell him. Nick. Oh hell.

He feels his face starting to flush and he opens his mouth, stuttering slightly when he says, "Oh christ, Nick, I'm sorry, I...." He raises one hand and hits himself over the head, groaning loudly at the sharp pain.

"Greg." Nick says, grabbing Greg's hand before it reaches his head once again. "Relax, it's okay, really."

"No, it's not, it's really not. I'm so sorry. I know you didn't want to tell anyone at work yet.." He shakes his head at his own stupidity. "But maybe they'll just think I was really drunk and won't think anything of it?" He asks, hoping that everybody will just chalk it up to him being crazy. Which would be one of the first times that people's perception of him would turn out to be a good thing.

The little flare of hope vanishes quickly when Nick shakes his head. "Sorry, Greg. But apart from you rubbing your crotch in my face," Nick smiles and blushes a little at the memory, "Apart from that, I think the countless ‘I love you's' kind of got the point across."

"I'm sorry."

"What for? For telling me you love me or for shoving your crotch in my face?"

Greg smiles sheepishly. "Neither, actually. Just for doing that in a public place, I guess."

Nick grins at that and wraps his arm around Greg's waist, pulling him closer. "Well, it doesn't matter anymore, now does it?"

He takes a moment to think about that, realizing that he should probably be worrying about what the reactions to his actions were, instead he asks, "So, does that mean I can rub my dick in your face any time I want now?"

"I guess so," Nick says hesitantly, "Although I'm not sure that that's the thing you should be focusing on right now, G."

Greg frowns. "What do you mean? You're saying the guys didn't react too well at my little public display of affection?"

Nick grins, running his hand over Greg's back and shaking his head. "No, G. That's not what I'm saying. It's just that...." His voice trails off a little and he shrugs, adding, "All I'm saying is that last night you passed out on me.."

"So?"

"Jesus, Greg. I think you killed a few too many brain cells last night, man." Nick says, smiling lazily. "Let me simplify it for you. I was horny. You passed out. Now you're hung over and I'm...Just.. Don't." He pulls Greg closer, rubbing his groin against Greg to emphasize his point.

Greg gasps at the feeling of Nick's dick against his own. Makes him regret his drinking even more, but then again if he hadn't then they wouldn't be having this conversation. Holding back a groan at the thought of what they could be doing, he focuses on the fact that at least they won't have to hide anymore. Even if it wasn't the classiest way to tell them. He smiles and leans over to kiss Nick, startled when Nick stops him. "What?"

"You still reek, dude."

"Fuck you, Nick." When Nick shakes his head at him, he shrugs, and briefly considers brushing his teeth, the thought of getting up not sounding that appealing, so instead he snuggles up to Nick, feeling Nick's arm tighten around him. Kissing can wait. There's time for that later. Among other things.

***