Title: Three Things that Did Not Happen to Warrick Brown on the Night of Nick Stokes' Kidnapping
Author: Perpetual Motion
Webpage: http://www.geocities.com/iwannabedonna
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Warrick/Nick
Spoilers: "Grave Danger"
Rating: You must be this tall to read this fic [roughly the size of a teenager]
Summary: One night, three possibilities, none of them true.
Disclaimer: Belongs to CBS. CBS let Tarentino fuck it up. I love CBS.
Author's Notes: Again, I must say that Tarentino is a sick fuck, and I love him all the more for it. Best episode *ever*.

***

1. Heads You Lose, Tails You Lose

Nick flashed the coin at him and grinned. "Call it in the air."

"Tails." Warrick watched the coin flip back into Nick's palm and watched him flip it onto his hand with a bit of flash.

"Heads."

"Damn."

Nick made a 'gimmie' motion with his hand. "Give it up."

"Gloating does not become you, man."

"Says he who has to deal with unspecified body parts." Nick laughed at Warrick's dirty look and flipped the coin to Warrick before he walked down the hall. "A souvenir for your trouble."

Warrick flipped the coin back to Nick. "No way am I keeping that thing around. It's bad luck, now. You can have it."

"If you insist." Nick pocketed the coin and gave Warrick and quick, soft smile. "Be careful, okay?"

Warrick laughed. "Man, I've got an unspecified body part in a parking lot. I'll be fine."

"I know." Nick shrugged. "But be careful."

Warrick got a shiver down his spine like someone was staring at the back of his head. His grandmother would have called it an omen. "Yeah, all right. You too."

"Yeah." Nick gave Warrick another smile and disappeared around the corner.

Warrick shook off the cold feeling in his spine and headed for his car. Nick was just being a little over-protective, and he was making Warrick paranoid. They did it to each other sometimes. Nothing was going to happen. It was a body part in a parking lot. No one ever hung around one of those.

2. Night, Nick-boy

The night had been utterly without fun, excitement, or interesting blood spatter. Warrick felt tired, but it was more a bored-tired than a tired-tired. "Nick, you here?" Warrick tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and hung his jacket on his hook on the wall.

"Kitchen."

Warrick walked through the living room and into the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to find Nick piling together a sandwich roughly the size and width of his head. For the first time all night, he managed a smile and some amusement. "Boring night for you, too, huh?"

"Someone dumped dog entrails in an empty parking lot. There were some tire tracks, but I don't think this one's going to be high priority." Nick shook his head as he opened the fridge. "People are weird, man."

"I know you figured that out way before tonight."

"Yeah, but sometimes it's got to be repeated." Nick moved a few things around in the refrigerator. "What'd you do with the mustard?"

"It should be in there." Warrick looked over Nick's shoulder. "There." He pointed to the back of the fridge, behind the pickles.

"Ah. Thank you." Nick pulled the mustard out and set it on the counter. He looked from his sandwich, to Warrick, then back to his sandwich. "You want one?"

Warrick chuckled. "No, thanks, my stomach's fine without half a turkey in it."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm gonna hit the shower." Warrick stepped up behind Nick and kissed the back of his head. "And if you think you're getting anywhere near me after eating onions on that thing, you're out of your mind." Warrick dodged the onion Nick tried to force-feed him and headed for the bathroom. "I'm not kidding, man. I smell onion, you're sleeping on the couch." He grinned at Nick's laugh as he closed the bathroom door.

3. Takes One to Know One

Warrick sat away from everyone else in the waiting room. He flipped Nick's coin over and over again, not really caring whether it came up heads or tails. He just wanted the doctor to come out with news. He glanced over when someone sat in the chair next to him. "Go away, Greg."

"I'm not here to reassure you."

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm not. I just thought I'd warn you."

Warrick's tone was cutting. "Warn me?"

"What Nick's about to go through, emotionally, is going to be really difficult. He won't want to be touched. He won't want to talk. He'll have nightmares, and he won't sleep, and he'll shut down completely a few times. It'll take him a long damned time to deal with this."

"When did you become such an expert on psychological responses to being buried alive?"

"I'm not, but I am the resident expert on psychological responses to almost getting blown to shit, and that happened to Nick, too."

Warrick suddenly felt very cold. The coin dropped from his hand and rolled under another chair. "Greg, man, I'm-"

"It's cool. You're freaked. I get that." Greg patted Warrick's arm. "I just thought you'd like some warning."

"Yeah, I…" Warrick trailed off as the possible repercussions of Nick's night hit him for the first time. "Can you hang here for awhile?"

"Sure." Greg looked at the coin that had slipped from Warrick's hand. "Do you want me to get that?"

"No."