Title: Transatlanticism
By: postnotice
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Note: Based on the album 'Transatlanticism
Lightness
And I'm sneaking glances,
Looking for the patterns in static
they start to make sense the longer I'm at it.
Summary: "The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row; it seems farther than ever before. I need you so much closer."
August 7th, 2003
Sometimes, Greg Sanders watches people. He tries not to make a habit of it because it's intense and off-putting when people realize he's doing it. But when the likelihood of somebody catching him is low, he does.
He watches Sara a lot. She's interesting. Intense. Of course, it helps that she's easy on the eyes and that she doesn't mind that Greg obviously has a crush on her and asks her out as often as he can without making it seem creepy. Sara's thorough, precise. Her processing is simple, quick, effective, and Greg wonders how much he's learned about field work just by watching her.
He watches Catherine, too, but for different reasons. She walks like she owns the lab, high and mighty, and important-looking. Besides, Greg's shallow, so he doesn't mind looking at her boobs, either. And it helps that she wears low-cut t-shirts that show them off nicely.
He watches Grissom, too, but only because he's always walking around with this far-off look in his eyes or digging through books or something, and sometimes the guy can just appear from nowhere and send you reeling in to space trying to figure out what exactly he means by the words he threw at you. He's caring in the most detached way Greg's ever seen a person. He's interesting.
Greg watches everybody, definitely, but since he started at the lab, his favorite person to watch is Nick. Nick is insanely empathetic, intensely caring without holding back. Greg really respects that, because while he's always considered himself caring to a certain degree – you kind have to be when your mother had a constant watch over you as a child – Nick is so far beyond that. And, Greg's shallowness never failing to kick in, Nick's easy to look at too. He's muscular, reminding Greg every time he sees him just how long it's been since he's had a relationship with another guy, and broad. There's a lack of curves that intrigues the hell out of Greg, and sometimes he wants to do nothing more than reach out and touch—
"Greg?" Catherine's voice interrupts his thoughts from behind him. He spins the chair back around, reluctantly tearing his eyes from Nick, and smiles wide, hoping that she hadn't caught him staring. She looks amused, though, and Greg speaks before she can ask what has him in such a good mood.
"Yes?" He draws out the word flirtatiously, raising his eyebrows with a little wiggle that makes her chuckle.
It's like she's forgotten completely about his staring. Greg relaxes a little. "You have the DNA from the—"
"Abernathy case, right," Greg continues as he turns to a stack of papers sitting on the desk next to him. He shuffles through them, scanning pages until he finds one with Abernathy, Carl written across the top and holds it out to her. She leaves without so much as a thank you, and Greg's good mood is slightly dampened.
He's muttering under his breath about manners when a hand drops on his shoulder from behind. He nearly jumps out of his skin and spins around faster than he ever has in his life.
Nick smiles widely, and for a moment, Greg thinks he might see a little bit of adoration in his eyes, but he writes it off as his perspective being skewed from nearly pissing his pants and the smile returns to his face. "Hey," he says, both cursing and thanking the architects of the crime lab for putting multiple doors in his lab.
Greg thinks that if Nick always greets him with a smile, he could handle freaking out like that every time he entered DNA. Nick continues staring at him, though, expectantly, and Greg tries to remember if he has results for his case or not. He glances down at Nick's hands, which are painfully empty. Greg stares at them for a second too long, wishing he had the drive to reach forward and pull Nick's hands into his own.
But he doesn't.
"Here for anything in particular?" Greg asks, spinning the chair to follow Nick with his eyes as he moves about the lab, picking up vials and hand-held equipment with an interest Greg hasn't seen in too many others.
Nick looks up as he speaks, the smile still in place, though significantly smaller now. Flirtatious, almost. "Just decided to pay my favorite lab tech a visit." Greg forces himself not to blush at the comment, forces the hope that flares up in his chest to settle, and leans forward on his elbows over the desk.
"Don't wanna let Jacqui hear that, you know how territorial she gets over me."
For a moment, Nick just watches him. Greg watches back. A million and one things go through his mind as he waits for Nick to respond. After a long, long moment, Nick says, "I think I can handle her."
Fearing he'll out himself if he keeps going, Greg switches the topic back to work, surprised by the disappointment on Nick's face. "I really don't have anything for you."
"I know. Archie kicked me out of the A/V lab."Disappointing realization floods his head and the cloud Greg had been flying on disappears from underneath him. The drop back into reality hurts a little. "Ahh, so you came to bug me instead." Still, the fact that Nick chose him over any of the other lab techs has to say something, even if Nick would rather spend time with Archie.
Nick sets down the binder in his hands and continues to another table as he says, "I prefer the term 'enjoy the company of,' but if you prefer bug…"
Greg thinks he must imagine the wink Nick looks up and sends him.
---
The rest of the night passes slowly – very slowly, which is surprising because the majority of Nick's shift is spent in Greg's lab, waiting on Archie to finish processing surveillance videos for his case. Nick's distracting in a silent way, and if Greg weren't so damned attracted to him, he might actually get all of the samples processed. He almost has half the mind to temporarily train Nick in to help him out; after all, if he's going to be there, he might as well help. But he doesn't, just allows himself a few seconds in between processing to enjoy Nick's presence – and body – more often than he's used to.
Nick seems laid back in the lab; safe, almost, and Greg wonders how he can be when it exploded just months ago. Greg doesn't even feel safe all the time anymore. But still, Nick walks around leisurely, admires the books Greg keeps in cupboards and the articles he tapes to the glass walls. He doesn't speak too much, and Greg's glad for it, because he's distracting enough when he's silent.
He asks, once or twice, if he's diverting Greg's attention too greatly and if he'd rather him leave, but Greg's enjoying his company far too much to allow him to leave. Besides, he brings coffee back for Greg without being asked, and if Nick wants to do that, who's Greg to deny him?
Sometimes, he feels like Nick's watching him, but when he looks up, Nick's completely immersed in whatever he's doing. Eventually, after twenty or so times that Greg does it, he writes it off as either paranoia or wishful thinking, and tries to ignore it. 'Try' being the obvious key word.
Really, it doesn't matter if Nick's sneaking glances, because Greg's doing the same thing as often as he can. His weird obsession is almost making him less efficient, almost.
The end of the shift comes just as the sun rises high enough to flood the lab with yellow-orange light. It's like a slap in the face to both of them and Nick stands up and smiles at Greg before walking across the hall to the A/V lab again. Greg closes up shop, so to speak, and leaves his lab with such a bright mood he even smiles at the day-shift DNA tech, who may as well be the spawn of Ecklie and Hodges.
Nick enters the locker room fifteen minutes later, just as Greg closes his locker and bends to tie his shoe, there's a bounce in his step that Greg's never seen before. "Archie finish your tapes?" he asks. Nick shakes his head.
"Nope."
When Nick sends him another wide grin, Greg hates the way his chest burns with hope again.
--
August 8th, 2003
The next shift may as well be the polar opposite to the previous night. Three high-profile cases come in just as graveyard does, and all CSI shifts are called back to work – and Greg's the only DNA tech on duty because Matthew on days had left for Hawaii after his shift.
Greg normally works well under pressure and stress; really, he does. He learns to focus his energy on what he needs to do and not what others expect of him, and normally he comes out with results that please. But when everybody is brought to their last nerve, and Hodges is forced to share a lab with him because Catherine, considerate as she always is, robbed Hodges of the trace lab for some lengthy experiment she could have done in one of the layout rooms had they not all been occupied.
Hodges isn't a terrible person by any means; Greg really thinks he's just such a kiss-ass that nobody really wants to get to know him until the jittery sub comes in instead and they realize just how much they like him. But today, today, Greg's nerves are already shot from having every CSI who walks into his lab not only hand him thousands of samples but complain about their results not being back, as well as Greg being overwhelmed with how much work he has to do, and Hodges is really the last person he wants to be stuck with.
Somehow, the guy seems to realize that Greg's fuse is shorter than normal, because when he walks in with the equipment he needs on a rolling cart, Greg hardly visible behind a mound of evidence bags, he only says, "Need any help?" and proceeds to take anything Greg hands him.
They form a friendship that Greg knows isn't going to last longer than their shift does, and Nick doesn't stop by once all night. Not that Greg's complaining, because when Hodges brought back coffee for the two of them and told him about Nick's blow up in one of the interrogation rooms, Greg views it as a blessing, because he really doesn't want to listen to Nick's complaining, not tonight. Still, when he catches Nick's eye when he looks up, there's a brief moment where time stands still before Greg offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. The world is righted again when Nick returns it.
---
August 30, 2003
The next few weeks pass by in a blur. Nick spends as much time in Greg's lab as he can, but he doesn't do much talking. Greg finally feels like he has a grip on what Nick really means when he speaks, when he sends Greg looks, but every time Greg makes a decision to finally land on a conclusion, an offhand sentence Nick says to Warrick or Catherine sends him into orbit again.
It's annoying, to say the least.
The Sound of Settling
My brain's repeating
"if you've got an impulse let it out"
But they never make it past my mouth.
September 14, 2003
September brings an armload of teenage victims, and along with it, an altogether too depressing team. Greg breaks out the worst of his fashion - and jokes - as an attempt to make life a little less dark. The CSIs hardly notice, although Hodges does make it a point to crack a joke every time Greg is within sight or earshot.
September also brings a new Nick that Greg isn't used to. Now, before he's misquoted, Nick Stokes could be covered in mud and bodily fluids and would still look hot, but there's something about him when he comes to work mid-September that has Greg forgetting everything except how amazing he looks.
Okay, so maybe not bodily fluids, but the point is that Nick could look terrible and still pull it off.
The best part? Nick didn't even have a vacation; it's like he turned into Sex Personified overnight.
Greg makes a vow to himself that somehow, somehow he will find a way to ask Nick out or something because wow, sometimes Greg can hardly make words when he sees him. Hodges catches on early in the game and Greg knows he's having all sorts of fun torturing him, but eventually Hodges lets it go and goes back to work, of course, only because Jacqui comes to his rescue.
And Greg's never been happier to see Jacqui than he is right now.
"Well, he might be a dick, but he does have a point you know," she says with a wink. Greg groans. "Yes, you're being obvious," she continues before he can ask, "but Nick can't even catch on when Judy's flirting with him, so I don't think he knows." Greg's relief doesn't last long. "But he might if you don't open your mouth, you know."
Greg's look is the epitome of 'if looks could kill.' "You're the devil," he whispers darkly. Jacqui just throws her head back and laughs. "Fine, fine, I'll talk to him."
She leaves his lab when Nick enters, and Greg realizes his mistake when, once again, he stumbles over his words. Nick looks amused, though, and after embarrassing himself for five minutes trying to throw together the presentation he's always complaining about never being able to give, he admits defeat and stares at Jacqui as she laughs at him through the glass walls.
--
September 17, 2003
"You still haven't told him, have you?" Jacqui asks him when she drags him out to lunch on their next day off. She laughs at Greg's responding glare. "What are you, scared?"
"I'm not scared," Greg says, spinning his drink absently with his straw. "I'm just… Weighing all the options."
Jacqui nods and sips at her drink. "Scared."
With a frown, Greg stabs the ice down into his glass. "I just don't want to have my lights punched out, y'know? He's from Texas and there are people that really hate this kind of thing over there." Unfortunately, Greg's speaking from personal experience. When he was a sophomore in high school, there'd been a new senior that transferred over. Greg kind of fell head over heels and damn if the fall wasn't three times as painful as any other. It's unfortunate that they make them so well in Texas.
Shrugging, Jacqui turns to dig in her purse. "No, it's only unfortunate for those of us who can't bag the ones from Texas." Greg's frown deepens. Had he said all that out loud?
"Eh, whatever. Point is it's highly likely that Nick's not going to like it if I just walk up to him and say something. I need to lay groundwork or something, y'know, make him realize how much he wants it." Oh, wow. He sounds weird and creepy to himself. Maybe he should lay off the people watching; it's spreading into other aspects of his life.
But Jacqui doesn't seem creeped out so maybe it's okay. "Are you paying your half?"
Greg shakes his head and rests back against the seat. "No. You drag me out of my apartment to take me to lunch, you're paying, babe." He throws in a wink for good measure. Jacqui rolls her eyes.
"You're such a dork."
Used to her reaction, Greg stretches his hands over his head and grins when his back pops nicely. "You'll come around someday, nobody can resist me."
Really, he doesn't know how he sounds so confident, because in his mind he's only this confident when he runs samples, and even then he's not always certain.
The glint in Jacqui's eyes is evil as she stands from the booth, checkbook in hand, and says, "You can't have all of us, Greg," and leaves with a wink of her own.
--
September 20, 2003
"Nineteen. Eighteen. Five. Four. Fourteen. One--"
"What are you doing?"
Greg looks up from the piece of paper sitting in front of him and scribbles out his writing before he says, "Nothing. Nothing at all."
Grissom purses his lips but doesn't press the issue, handing over a small manila envelope. "Run this against the unknown I gave you earlier." He leaves without another word, but before Greg can complain, Sara comes in, carrying a large gift bag sitting on top of a cardboard box that she can hardly see over. Greg rushes from his desk to help her, taking a peek inside the bag. He turns to her with a raised eyebrow. "You know I love your gifts but I'm not sure you can legally give this to me."
Sara purses her lips in a chilling impersonation of the way Grissom had moments before. She turns to dig in the contents of the bag while Greg stares. "Actually, most of this is for Hodges." She leans closer to him and whispers, "And most of it's fake. Griss told me to find as much as I could and send him all the fake evidence that would work. He's been…really annoying lately. This-" She pulls out a vial of blood. "-is for you."
Giving it a light, experimental shake, he nods and smiles. "Awesome. Just when I thought today couldn't get any better. A sample to run and so much work for Hodges he'll stay out of my hair." He takes her hand and presses a chaste kiss to the back. "I think I love you, Sara Sidle."
"Of course you do, Greg," she replies softly, hint of a smile still on her face as she takes her hand back. "Get through that quickly, please?"
Greg bows awkwardly back to his desk and waves the vial by means of agreement. Sara stares for a moment longer, and then leaves.
Just as he closes the top of a machine meant to do all the really hard work for him, one of the doors opens. He ignores it, waiting for the visitor to tell him what they need, but when they don't, he turns around with a wide smile.
Nick doesn't return it, though, because he's far too busy trying to stutter words into full-blown sentences, and the longer he tries, the redder his face gets. Finally, he stops, takes a deep breath, and says, "Um," before his pager goes off. There's a light, sheepish smile that appears on his face. "Prints came back. I'll, uh. I'll come back later." He leaves without another word.
Finally seeming to catch on, Greg can't get rid of his smile for the rest of the night.
Passenger Seat
Then looking upwards
I strain my eyes and try
to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites
from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.
--
October 3, 2003
"Fuck." Greg kicks at his tire, groaning when all it does is seem to deflate it more. "Fuck!"
Nick seems to appear from nowhere. "Something wrong?" Greg flails unattractively and almost falls on his ass. He catches himself on the hood of his car, grinning back at a clearly concerned Nick.
"Oh no, no, nothing at all. Just a flat tire and a car that won't start." He stares forlornly at the vehicle in front of him. "I hate this thing. I really, really hate this thing." The smile Nick gives him in return is far too much. He turns away. "Guess I'll call a—" he says, at the same time Nick asks, "Do you want a ride?"
A beat passes in an odd silence and then Nick clears his throat. "Alright, then, guess that's a no."
"Um." Greg glances out at the street beyond the parking lot, trying to decide whether he should take the ride from his far-too-attractive coworker and risk outing himself or his teeny, tiny crush in the ride home, or if he should pay the overpriced fee of taking a cab home. "Um." Nick looks at him, eyebrows raised in silent question, and Greg gives. "Sure, uh, if you're up for it."
You gotta live on the edge some time, right?
Nick brightens a bit and waits for Greg to get his stuff from his car and lock it up before he leads the way to his truck. Greg hears him curse under his breath at least four times before he can unlock the doors, and internally, Greg thinks he's far too nervous to just be driving a coworker home. Lending a helping hand is not something he would have ever thought Nick Stokes to be nervous about.
"Hey, listen," Nick says after they've been in his car for a while. Greg turns to look at him. "We're going out for dinner next week for Warrick's birthday… You wanna come?"
Greg grins, nodding enthusiastically while ignoring the voice in the back of his head that says that if it weren't for Nick, he wouldn't even be included. "Definitely, yeah."
Nick noticeably relaxes, smiling wide. "Great. If your car's still not fixed, I could pick you up, drive you home."
Having forgotten about his car, Greg slumps back in his seat. "Oh. Right, yeah. I'll let you know." Nick turns down onto his street. "Should I bring anything in particular?"
Pulling into an empty space on the street in front of the big glass doors of Greg's apartment building, Nick clears his throat. "Uh, 'Rick vetoed presents, so not really. Although if you want to contribute to the alcohol, feel free." He shifts the car into park.
With a nod, Greg opens his door and picks up his bag from the floor. "Great. Looking forward to it." He gets out and immediately hates having to switch out Nick's scent for the city air. He turns back and points at Nick. "You gonna pick me up tonight or should I call a cab?"
Nick gives a quick nod of his own. "Yeah, I'll pick you up."
"Great! Thanks!" Noticing his over-excitement a moment too late, Greg tries to downplay it by clearing his throat and turning away. "I'll see you tonight, then. Thanks again for the ride."
He closes the door before he can hear Nick's reply, and enters the building with a terrible feeling in his stomach. He'd had his chance; if he would have just brought it up, asked him out or something before Nick had asked him about dinner next week… Now he can't say anything until well after Warrick's birthday, because if he mentions it and it goes badly before then, then he'll have to deal with Nick outside of work at least one more awkward, awkward time. And, if his car isn't fixed by then – which it likely won't be – he has to worry about getting there.
He's so distraught that he doesn't even greet his neighbor as she comes out of her apartment
--
October 10, 2003
Greg hates everything. He'd scorched the coffee he made that night (don't ask how, he just did), had to suffer through one of his mother's lectures about finding someone, and then, just as he thought things couldn't get any better, he'd gotten a call from Nick informing him that he was leaving to come pick Greg up. And Greg had completely forgotten about Warrick's birthday dinner thing.
His closet clearly isn't ready for a ten-minute outfit shop, because all the time he has is spent digging in his closet, trying to find something at least partially decent to wear. As he'd half-expected, however, his phone rings ten minutes later with Nick telling him he's waiting downstairs. He tells him the room number and buzzes him up, closes his phone. Great, Greg thinks, tugging the shirt he'd been wearing all day back over his head.
Nick makes it up in record time, and Greg isn't even back into his bedroom before there's a knock at his door. With a longing glance towards his bedroom, Greg unlocks his door and lets his coworker in. "Hey, sorry I'm not—"
"Wow," Nick interrupts, shaking his head as he eyes him up and down. Greg feels the back of his neck heat up with a blush.
"I haven't gotten dressed yet," he admits with a sheepish smile. Nick doesn't seem to be fazed.
"No kidding…."
Blush creeping up to his ears, Greg waves him in. After insisting he looked good, despite that Greg hadn't done anything to change his wardrobe, Greg half expected him to have flowers. He doesn't, though, just keys. "Uh, I'll just be a minute. Make yourself at home."
He leaves Nick in the living room, heading back to dig through his closet for an old pair of shoes. Greg returns five minutes later, after a quick look in the mirror to check his hair, to find Nick staring at an old photograph in a frame that had forever embedded into it.
"Hey, ready?" he asks, raising his eyebrows when Nick turns around. He lifts the frame in question and keeps looking at it.
"You guys look really, uh, happy,"
Confused, Greg walks closer to take a look at what photo was in the frame, a younger version of himself, arms around his waist that belonged to another young man kissing Greg on the cheek. "Ha!" Taking the frame from Nick's hands, Greg drags his fingers along the lettering. "That's Jerry. We met in college."
"Oh… You're involved?"
"Oh, no, definitely not. We were just friends. We had a friend who was an art major, really into photography and stuff. He thought it'd be cute." Greg sets it back on the end table. "It used to say 'friends forever,' but it broke in the move and I never found the 'friends.'"
Nick can't seem to pull his eyes away. "Were?"
As Greg pulls his jacket on, he nods. "Passed away in his senior year." With one last glance towards the photo, he says, "Can we head out? I mean, not that I don't want you to know or anything but I don't think now is really a good time to talk about it if you want to know."
This time, he completely expects Nick to force him into talking, or even just want to set up an appointment or something, but all the entire drive to Warrick's, Nick doesn't say a word. It's off-putting and makes Greg feel like he's done something wrong.
But Nick doesn't seem mad, just distant. That doesn't really ease Greg's nerves, though.
--
For the most part, Greg stays away from alcohol, at the restaurant and when they return to Warrick's. His worries about Nick being mad at him drift away with the little he does drink, though, and Greg's pretty sure he's never loved alcohol more than he does tonight.
They're the last ones to leave; an hour after Catherine had left, Nick pulls Greg from his place on the couch where he's seconds away from falling asleep, and drags him to the car, grumbling. Greg helps as much as he can in his tired state, but unfortunately can't do much.
"Thanks," he offers when Nick gets in and starts his truck. "'Preciate it."
"Don't mention it."
The ride back is just as silent as the ride there, and Greg wonders if Nick's ever going to hold a conversation with him again. His head rests on the passenger window, staring lazily up at the starry sky that he doesn't get to see enough of anywhere near Vegas. His mouth opens countless times, insisting on asking questions that Greg forgets too easily. Just as the stars fade back into the pink sky of Vegas lights, Greg pulls his eyes from the sky and stares out in front of them.
Greg voices his thanks again when Nick parks in front of his apartment building. Ever the gentleman, Nick offers to take Greg back to his door, but Greg waves it off, assuring him that he'll be fine. "I didn't drink that much."
The lack of sleep obviously gets to him, however, because as he steps out, his foot catches on the edge of the curb, and he doesn't even know he's falling until his face collides with the cement. He vaguely hears Nick's worried voice call out his name, a car door slamming seconds later, and maybe Greg should be a little more concerned about the blood dripping from his face, but when Nick lifts him up into his lap, hands cautiously brushing blood away with the edge of his t-shirt, all he can think about is how close Nick is.
And Greg immediately sobers up. Nick is way too close, like the words 'personal space bubble' don't even exist together as a phrase, and he's touching and he shouldn't be. If Nick doesn't move or stop touching soon, Greg might do something he could very likely regret.
It seems that Nick notices their proximity at the same time Greg does, because his fingers slow on Greg's cheek and his Adam's apple bobs slowly as he swallows. Greg's not sure if it's because of the face planting or the alcohol, but time seems to slow down to half what it normally is and Nick won't stop staring.
"Greg," Nick finally says after a moment, his voice quieter than Greg's ever heard before but that might just be because of the ringing in his ears.
"Yeah?"
"When you said you weren't involved with Jerry… Did you mean you'd never be involved with a guy, or never be involved with him?"
Greg really hopes Nick can't tell he's shaking. "What do you think?" He feels the deep breath Nick takes in his eardrums. The ringing is almost too deafening to hear anything.
"I think I want to kiss you." Forget about shaking, Greg might as well be passing into earthquake territory as Nick closes the distance between them. Every single fantasy he'd ever gone through in his head didn't start or end the way it's happening right now.
"Wait." Dammit, no! Is that his own voice? Why the hell would he be saying that? "I don't really want to kiss you when I'm on the ground in front of my apartment building."
Nick chuckles but doesn't move away. Greg's insides squirm with every emotion he can think of, which isn't many. "Too bad." Greg hardly has the time to be elated about Nick's response before he's pulled into a kiss. The intensity, even without tongue, is enough to keep Greg from pulling away to complain about the pain in his neck. It lasts a few long, heavenly moments and when Nick pulls back for air, all Greg can think is how that surpassed his fantasies more than he thought possible.
"There's going to be more of that, right?" Greg asks as Nick pulls him up to his feet after closing and locking his truck doors. "'Cause I really don't think I'm going to be able to go back to fantasizing now."
Turning his head so Greg can't see the smile widening across his face, Nick says, "Plenty more."
Expo '86
But if I move my place in line, I'll lose.
And I have waited; the anticipation's got me glued.
I am waiting for something to go wrong.
I am waiting for familiar resolve.
--
November 15, 2003
Greg loves getting out of the lab. He's not pressured by CSIs to have results done yesterday fifteen minutes after they bring them in, Hodges keeps out of his hair, and he gets to work with some of Las Vegas Crime Lab's finest. And really, when given the choice, how many sane people would choose Hodges over Nick or Sara or Catherine (or if they were lucky, all three)?
And, of course, Greg gets to train to become a CSI, which is kind of the entire point.
Since Grissom only lets him out when they have little use for DNA testing, Greg really doesn't get out much. And he really, really wants to tell Grissom off, but the suspicion that Grissom probably has some logic unknown to Greg, some reason he's not letting Greg out to the field more often keeps Greg from opening his mouth. Even when Nick tells him he should, and Greg takes Nick's advice to heart.
"You look happy to be here," a voice tunnels into his thoughts, amused. Greg looks up at Nick and smiles tiredly.
"I am, believe me. Hodges was terrible before I left. But it's so boring right now. I mean, until David gets here, we can't really do much except take pictures. Which we've already done."
Nick smiles, and Greg's grateful that it's the same smile he gave him before he left Greg's apartment last night, not one that automatically makes him feel like an idiot. "Sure, but half our job is observation, Greg. You spend free time putting together things, throwing together theories to fuel your investigation. The time you're wasting sitting there looking adorable and bored doesn't do much except make me wish we weren't in public right now."
Greg is pretty sure his blush permanently changes his skin color. Before he can respond with something witty, David rushes to the scene, smiling a sheepish smile and apologizing about being late.
David stays for an agonizing two hours, in which Greg makes thousands of mistakes that Nick calmly points out to him. Greg thinks he's holding back the teasing because they're kind of dating now, but the lack of ridicule in his words only makes Greg feel worse about the entire situation.
Nick seems to pick up on his bad mood as they're driving back to the crime lab. "Everybody makes mistakes, Greg,"
"Thirty. Thirty in two hours. If this keeps up I'm never going to be a CSI." Sensing that Nick's about to tell him off for being so self-loathing, he flashes a bright smile and says, "Don't worry; I'm not going to go home and cry myself to sleep because I'm terrible at my dream job."
"You're not terrible, you're a trainee. Trial and error, man, it's the only way to learn. Eventually you'll stop making those little mistakes because the process just becomes second nature to you."
Greg groans. "You're not going to launch into another one of your lectures, are you?" He tries to hide his smile, but fails.
"No. No, I'm not." Pulling up to a stoplight, he allows himself a few moments to stare at Greg. He deliberately stares back, determined not to be the first to look away. When a horn honks somewhere behind them, Nick averts his gaze. Greg doesn't even have time to feel victorious. "Come over. I'll make dinner."
Ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him to decline and take things slow, Greg grins again and says, "Sure, yeah."
--
Greg's certain that he didn't spend very long in the shower, but when he gets out, Nick's hard at work finishing dinner. "If you would have waited fifteen minutes I would have helped out," he says as he enters the kitchen. "You didn't have to do all this yourself."
Nick just shrugs and waves Greg over to his spot next to the oven. "Nah, don't worry about it." He gives the pot of soup one last stir before setting the lid on top. "Almost done anyway."
"What'd you do, throw a bunch of cans together?"
Smiling, Nick shakes his head. "Last time my parents were here my mom froze a bunch of soup."
Greg eyes the pot warily. "Frozen soup?"
With a laugh, Nick pulls Greg to him, hooking his arms around his waist. "It tastes just like normal soup. It has a longer shelf life when it's frozen."
"…Frozen."
Greg hopes the small smile that lifts the corners of Nick's lips is in amusement, not the edge of frustration. "You're having a tough time with this, aren't you?"
"No, no, not at all," Greg lies, freeing one of his arms to lift the lid. It certainly looks like normal soup. "It's just a bit odd, that's all."
Nick's expression looks as though he's not certain he should be amused or disturbed. "Odd?"
Greg lets the conversation drop in favor of pressing his lips to Nick's. His free hand winds up, resting at Nick's neck and tugging him closer. Nick turns away as a light blush settles cross his cheekbones. Greg feels accomplished. "Come on, we'll ruin the soup."
"Screw the soup," Greg whispers, dipping his head to bite at Nick's neck. The light groan Nick makes only fuels Greg more, and he shoves Nick against the counter, still kissing and licking and biting.
There's times, like now, that Greg feels like it's a dream. A long, cruel dream that when he wakes up, he's going to hate life even more because it felt so real. But every night he goes to bed, he wakes up the next night with Nick next to him or calling him or something, or he goes to work and Nick pulls him away for a moment to tell him hello privately, and it's real. It's a bit much to handle sometimes.
"Greg…" The hint of need in Nick's tone makes Greg grin. He hears the loud click of the burner dial on the stove, and he looks up. "You win. Bedroom."
--
November 26, 2003
It takes a lot to piss Greg off. At least, he thinks it does. He's always able to find the silver lining in bad situations. When one of the CSI's gets angry at him for some reason and storms out of his lab, he thinks it's a good thing because he won't have to deal with their anger issues and they'll explode at someone else instead of him. He's normally very good at it.
But in just one shift, Nick Stokes has managed to single-handedly press all his buttons, flip all his switches, pluck his last nerve, and Greg is furious. He thinks Nick knows how angry he is, because Nick hasn't been by his lab in six hours.
To be honest, Greg's not even entirely sure why he's so angry. Nick didn't do anything that really bothers him; as a matter of fact, alone, all the things he did wouldn't bother Greg at all.
Maybe it's the added relationship. If Warrick was acting particularly pissed off, Greg wouldn't think anything of it, because he wouldn't have plans to go back to Warrick's and make out on the couch for half an hour, sleep in his bed and hold back his 'I love you's because it's too early. Maybe because that's exactly what he plans – or rather, planned if Nick's still in a bad mood by the end of shift – he's angry more because Greg's supposed to see Nick in his prime complaining and/or brooding time.
Of course, Greg really wouldn't care if he'd caught Warrick flirting with Jacqui's sub, either. He'd probably encourage it. Greg probably shouldn't be quite so angry about it, really. Because maybe he's putting too much into the relationship when he and Nick haven't really said anything about what they're doing or where they're going or anything, and maybe this is how Nick does relationships.
"Wonderful." Now he's going to have to talk to Nick.
"What's eating you?" Greg groans. The last person he needs to talk to about this is Hodges.
Greg slams the book he's paging through down onto the table, perhaps a little too hard. "I don't think you're really somebody I should be talking to about my problems."
Hodges leans against the door, casually almost. Greg knows better. "There's a psychologist here if you need somebody to talk to…"
"Thanks," Greg responds, fighting to not lash out at Hodges.
"…But they hardly know anything about real human feelings, so if you ever need somebody…"
"And you know about human feelings?"
The trace tech almost looks hurt. Greg considers apologizing. "Fine, fine. Don't talk to someone." He turns to leave, then stops. "I'll come see you when you're in a padded cell."
Greg considers it. Shift ends in half an hour, which means he doesn't really have that much time to pick and choose who he talks to. Besides, Sara's out sick, Jacqui's at a conference in Chicago, and Archie's not even visible over the pile of video tapes and computer hard drives he has to process through. He thinks that if he goes to Nick's before he talks this out, he'll explode. And he's already done that once this year, he's not too keen to do it again.
"Fine!" Greg calls. He tries to ignore the grin that spreads across Hodges' face. "But only because I'm desperate." He explains his dilemma without actually outing Nick or himself. Hodges listens with surprising maturity, nodding and 'mmhmm'ing at all the right times.
Finally, he says, "Okay. First, you really have to stop with the pronouns. If you really don't want to use a real name, make up a fake person. Second, graduate from high school and act like a mature adult in a mature relationship. And third, talk to Nick. All good relationships begin with communication. Or so they say."
Deciding not to comment on how Hodges knew it was Nick, Greg sighs. "You might have some empathy after all, Hodges."
Hodges smiles. "It's hardly empathy. After watching people for as long as I have, one learns about your kind of situation."
"Ahh, that's why I don't know anything about this. See, I'm always looking at you."
"You certainly know how to flatter a person. But I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't approve of you flirting with other men."
As Greg watches Hodges leave, he thinks maybe he's not quite as terrible as Greg once thought. He just has a bad way of showing it.
--
November 27, 2003
As it turns out, Greg doesn't have to talk to Nick at the end of shift because Nick's sent into a triple homicide case and Grissom sends him and Warrick on a double because of Sara's absence. When Greg hears about it, from Hodges, of all people, he's that much more grateful that he sneaks out of the lab without running directly in to the one person he should want to run in to. Still, he leaves a post it in Nick's locker telling him he'll be waiting at his apartment when he gets off shift. He struggles to remember where Nick keeps his spare key, but can't. He scribbles on 'took your house key, too ;)' under his name and closes Nick's locker before Warrick enters.
Greg's close presence to Nick's locker gets a questioning look from Warrick, but his tense smile in response gets Warrick to drop it before it was an issue. "Be glad you're not a CSI yet, Greg," is all Warrick offers for conversation, and Greg laughs politely in response before bidding him good night and leaving.
It's a little comforting how relaxed Greg is at Nick's, especially because of all the pessimism he has stored up about everything else. After successfully opening Nick's front door, he throws his jacket over the edge of Nick's couch and kicks his shoes off at the doorway. He heads for the shower, trying not to think about much of anything.
He's asleep when Nick gets home, but wakes up when he hears Nick's keys clash against the dresser.
"Nick?" His paranoia about leaving the front door unlocked kicks in, and he can't see much of anything in the darkness caused by the blackout curtains.
"Sorry, baby. Figured you went home." Nick sounds tired, disappointed. Greg hopes neither are because of him.
"You got my note, then?"
"Yeah. You didn't have to leave the door unlocked, you know. I keep an extra key in my truck."
"Ah. I'll remember that for next time." Greg rubs at his eyes as he sits up, watching as Nick pulls off his shirt. "How'd the rest of shift go?"
Nick throws his shirt towards the bathroom. Greg feels more comfortable watching the shirt than he does watching Nick. "It was hell."
"You, uh..." Greg scratches awkwardly at his shoulder. The scars there pull a little. "Wanna talk about it?"
The pause is so long, Greg thinks he'd be out if he was lying down. Then, finally, Nick quietly says, "No. Not really."
Having remembered he's angry, Greg just nods curtly, though in the darkness, he's sure Nick can't see it. He falls back onto the bed, turns over, and stares at the wall until he hears the shower start. By the time Nick crawls into bed with him, he's asleep again.
--
The New Year
I wish the world was flat like the old days
then I could travel just by folding a map
No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways
there'd be no distance that could hold us back.
--
December 22, 2003
It might all be in his head, but Nick seems to have only gotten worse since the triple homicide he and Warrick worked. He's at the lab so often now that Greg's stopped asking if he can come over and just does; by the time Greg's next shift starts, Nick still hasn't gone home. It's like he's traded his king-sized bed for the couch in the break room at work.
Greg caught him alone once, asked him if he felt crowded, if Greg should lay off on staying at Nick's place. Nick just pressed a soft kiss to his lips, told him not to worry, and went back to work. Thing is, and Greg's pretty certain that Nick has no idea, what Nick says and what Nick does clash; Greg can be soothed by what Nick says and fifteen minutes later, he's worried again because of something Nick did. It's tiring. Greg's sick of being kept on his toes all the damn time.
"Stokes!" he calls down the hallway before Nick can disappear into a layout room. "I need to talk to you."
"Uh…" Nick smiles as Greg stops in front of him. "Can it wait?"
"No." Greg looks through the window into the room they're standing outside of. "Here."
There's reluctance in Nick's steps that Greg would find amusing if he wasn't quite so angry. When Greg closes the door behind them, he almost looks scared. "You're never at home anymore."
Nick looks confused. "Is this our talk?"
"Is it because of me? 'Cause if it is, either tell me or break it off, don't keep me hanging." Greg is extremely aware of how clingy this makes him sound. He tries to act casual.
"Of course it's not you. There's a lot of work to be done here, Greg. We're flooded with cases. All shifts are working until they fall asleep at a microscope; it's not really something I have control over."
"Sure, sure. That's why I don't have backlog to keep me occupied."
Nick glares. Greg does his best to glare back. "Why are you so obsessed with this? Is my answer not good enough?"
"You're not the least bit concerned that our only time spent together is at work when you have an extra thirty seconds to drop by evidence instead of sending another lab tech to do it?"
"No, not really." Greg raises his eyebrows. "Fine, you wanna talk, we'll talk. Next time Grissom comes by, I'll tell him I have to take off because my mother's in town or something, all right? We'll talk before I leave for Texas for the holidays."
Texas? "You never said anything about going home for the holidays."
Nick's smile is so soft, Greg almost forgets why he's angry. "I did. Last week, before we went in for work."
Greg vaguely remembers answering the phone at Nick's when he'd been too busy to answer it himself. He also remembers the threats from Nick's mother about a strange man answering Nick's house phone that kept Greg from answering his own phone for the next two days. "That was before I had coffee. It might have well not even taken place." It's a low shot, but at this point, Greg will take what he can get.
Nick laughs and pulls him into a work-safe, one-armed hug. Greg wonders why all Nick Stokes has to do is show some sort of compassion for Greg to forgive him. That can't be a good thing. "I'm sorry," Nick whispers in a low voice filled with what Greg hopes is sincerity. "I'll make it up to you, mmm?"
"Oh, you're gonna make it up to me?"
Nick winks. Greg thinks his knees are going to give out. He's still having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Nick wants him, of all people. "If you'll let me."
"Great! Let's go to my place and talk about our feelings and cry." Nick blinks, dropping his arm from Greg's shoulders. "I'm kidding, cowboy. Sheesh."
Nick's small smile is obviously forced, so Greg decides not to tell him that he's a little bit serious. He really does want Nick to open up, even just a little bit, but if he doesn't want to, well, Greg can't exactly do anything about that. Besides, having Nick in tears wouldn't exactly help the matter.
"Am I staying over?"
Greg's already to the door, so he turns back and clicks his tongue. "Only if you want to." He opens the door and leaves, ignoring Nick's frustrated moan. A sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he realizes that he hadn't gotten much out of that conversation other than that he'll be alone for Christmas. Maybe he can talk Grissom into letting him work.
--
December 24, 2003
"Working? Really?"
"Well, if you couldn't go home for the holidays and your boyfriend was with his family, would you want to stay at home alone?" Greg responds after a quick look around to make sure nobody can hear him. "It's really quiet here. Grissom and Sara are the only CSI's and the labs might as well be empty. Bobby, Archie, Jacqui, Ronnie, they're all replaced with an overqualified pompous ass that's worse than Hodges with how much ass she kisses."
Nick chuckles. "Is he working?"
"Of course," Greg says, waving at Hodges as he passes by. "Where would he go?"
"Catherine with Lindsey?"
"She threatened to quit if Grissom wouldn't let her have tonight off." Greg pauses, drags his finger along the edge of the table in front of him, wondering how far is too far. Still, taking chances with Nick has seemed to work out in his favor for the last while… "I miss you, you know," he finally says, heart beating a mile a minute. Nick really could take that in any way.
"I miss you too." Greg's actually a little surprised; he hadn't expected such easy admittance. "I'm back in Vegas the day after tomorrow, and I start work again on the twenty-eighth."
"No fair; how'd you get so many days off?"
"No fair? You're the one voluntarily working a holiday. I put in for them last year on the thirtieth."
"No fair because you're not here and you're off spending time with your family." Hodges has stopped doing whatever it is he's doing in favor of staring at Greg through the glass walls. Greg grins and waves at him again.
"Do you work on the twenty-seventh?"
"I do now," Greg replies solemnly, throwing a pen at Hodges. It bounces off the wall and rolls back toward him. Greg leaves it there. "I wouldn't have taken it if I knew you'd be free."
"Sorry. Probably should have mentioned that."
Greg snorts. "You think?" A beat. He really doesn't want to fight with Nick. "Whatever, though. We'll work something out." Hodges knocks on the wall loudly and holds up a piece of paper that reads GRISSOM, COMING TO DNA NOW. "I have to go," Greg says, wondering when Hodges had gotten so considerate. "Duty calls." He takes his feet down from the desk and tries to look busy. "I'll talk to you later." He forces himself to keep the 'I love you' inside his head. "Bye!" His phone makes it in his pocket just as Grissom opens the door to DNA. "Slow night, eh, boss?"
Grissom gives him an odd look along with the samples, but doesn't say anything that doesn't relate to the case.
Greg tells himself to thank Hodges as soon as he can.
--
December 25, 2003
"Checkmate," Greg says lazily, rubbing at his forehead. It's three AM, and Greg's spent the last two hours playing chess with Hodges in the trace lab. His cell phone sits next to the board on the table, but hasn't lit up with a page or a text or a call since Nick called around eleven thirty.
Hodges grumbles under his breath but sets the board back up. "Isn't this a little odd? I mean, I always thought crime rates actually soared around holidays."
"Mostly suicide, I think," Greg responds, twisting in his chair to both crack his back and to see if anything exciting has happened in the last five seconds. "I'd kill to have something to process right now."
"I don't think it's legal to process your own evidence."
"Oh, shut up. You know what I mean."
The rest of the game passes in silence, with Greg once again winning, though it's not terribly hard when Hodges says everything he plans to do out loud. He's certainly not a very good chess player.
"Don't you have something other than chess in the lab?" Greg asks as they end their fifteenth game of the night.
Hodges shakes his head. "I think there's Monopoly and jigsaw puzzles in the break room." Greg hums in recognition, spinning in his chair. "Oh, but you don't play games that don't require skill."
"Sure I do. Monopoly doesn't require skill, it requires knowing how to add and subtract. Multiply."
"Isn't math a skill?"
"Shut up." Hodges leans back in his seat, a little smugly. "Why do I put up with you?"
"Because nobody else will. And because Nick's in Texas."
Greg smiles sweetly. "And people say you have terrible social skills."
A few more moments pass in silence. Greg wills his cell phone to light up with a page. It doesn't. "How can they afford to pay us for this overtime, anyway? If nothing's happening." Hodges shrugs. "Well, I'm certainly in good company."
"I'll have you know you're in amazing company. I just don't like opening my mouth around you."
"I'm going to find something to do. Maybe that temp has something interesting."
Greg gets up from his seat, ignoring Hodges as he says something back. The lab is quiet - majority of the workers there are catching up on old paperwork or, like he and Hodges, playing games. The temp is sitting in Jacqui's lab, running a sample as she watches a surveillance video. Greg's not even sure this is entirely legal, but he decides that's not exactly the right foot to start out on.
"Hey. How's it—"
She waves a hand sporadically at him and says, "Shush, please," before pausing the video. "It is not polite to walk in on one while they're working." Greg frowns; clearly, with this woman, that would have been the right foot. "Can I help you?"
"Um. Well, I was actually wondering if you needed any help. DNA's empty and I'm done with paperwork, and I know that you're working like, four jobs, so…"
"What's your name again?" Greg would be a little more hurt about her not remembering his name, but he doesn't remember hers either.
"Greg San-"
"Greg, I'm perfectly capable of doing this work on my own," she says, and turns back to her video.
Greg scoffs, but she doesn't turn around. "Okay then…" When he leaves the lab room, he runs right in to Hodges. "I guess I was wrong." Hodges raises an eyebrow. "I thought she didn't have social skills. She does; just not nice ones."
"I never want to know what your first impression of me was."
Greg winks as he walks away, headed for the breakroom. "Good thing, 'cause I'm not gonna tell you."
--
December 27, 2003
"How'd the holidays go, cowboy? Santa bring all the nieces and nephews their gifts on time? No lumps of coal?"
"Went as well as it always does. What's a family get together without some drama, anyway?"
Greg taps his finger against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish. His foot taps the floor just as quickly, though his socks muffle the sound. "Y'know, Papa Olaf used to tell me that Santa was a skinny guy with anger issues that beat little kids with a belt if they weren't good all year." Nick pauses in searching through his cupboards to look at him. "What? You've never heard that version of Santa Claus?"
"No, I've heard it; I just can't imagine going through life scared you're going to be beaten by someone you don't know. That certainly puts a whole new spin on Santa Claus seeing everything you do."
"Oh, you should hear the ones about Santa being a child molester. That's entertaining."
With a heavy sigh, Nick sets a box down on the counter. "I'm assuming that all these alternative stories come from adults?"
Greg shrugs. "What kid in their right mind would write letters to a child molester? Assuming that their parents have already talked to them about child molesters." He pauses. "How would you even start that subject, anyway?"
Nick presses a quick kiss to his lips and says, "Pan's are in the cupboard behind you; any chance you'll let me through?"
"Oh, I don't know. Now that I have you completely at my mercy..." Greg trails off menacingly, but moves out of the way anyway. "Seriously, though, how was it? Any break downs, admittance of divorce or cancer or anything else that's making you so..." He gestures with his hands. Nick doesn't get it. "So... not you?"
After Nick's set the pan down on the counter beside the coffee pot, Greg's graced with another kiss, softer and longer than the first. When they pull away, Greg's hands are shaking. This can't turn out well. "Okay, you're really scaring me, here."
"My parents want to meet you."
Greg really hopes his nervous smile doesn't falter. "Come again?"
"They hounded me about finding someone, and… And I told them. About you."
Greg pulls away with a chuckle. "Wow. Wow." A heavy silence follows, then, "I'm a guy, right? I don't have to meet them and wear skirts and pretend I'm a girl?"
The soft smile that lights up Nick's face settles Greg's hands almost completely. "Of course not. They know who you are. Hell, my dad probably ran a background check on you as soon as I left."
"Great. Great."
"You're okay? Not angry that I did this without talking to you?" Nick asks, leading Greg to a chair.
"No. I mean, yeah, it'd have been nice to have some warning, but no. That's fine." He scratches absently at his cheek. Parents. Jeez. "Um. You didn't just do this because, because you're not talking about anything, are you?"
Nick pauses. "Not talking about anything?"
Greg frowns a little and shakes his head. "Uh, never mind."
Nick looks at him for a few moments but doesn't ask for clarification about it again. "Anyway. I know it's still early and everything and if you'd rather not meet them, I'm sure I can hold them off, but…"
With a smile, Greg manages to hold the rest of Nick's words at bay. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." He suddenly remembers how terrifying Nick's mother had been on the phone, and licks his lips. Drawing circles on the tabletop with his fingertip, he asks, "Your mom's less scary in real life, right?"
--
Transatlanticism
The rhythm of my footsteps crossing flatlands to your door have been silenced forever more.
The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
It seems farther than ever before
--
February 5, 2004
The New Year comes and goes without much excitement. Though really, Greg really hasn't had the time to celebrate it since he was in college, and even then, it was a stretch.
Nick's suggestion about meeting his parents never materialized into anything, and there hasn't been any talk of it since December when Nick had first brought it up. Not that Greg's complaining or anything, because he's terrified of meeting Nick's parents. Absolutely terrified; he's pretty sure he was less scared of falling off cliffs or being kidnapped as a child. It's a fear inducing experience, and had Nick not met his parents already by accident back in January – informally; Nick claims to have briefly met them when Greg was in the hospital after the lab explosion – Greg's pretty confident that Nick would be just as anxious to get it over and done with.
It went as well as one could have hoped, he supposes. Nick behaved splendidly, as he nearly always does, lightly flirting with his mother and talking about some underappreciated sport with his father that Greg doesn't even think he can pronounce, but as his family is from California, and his mother now works at a soup kitchen and does street-side protesting like some people do knitting, they're very outspoken and unashamed.
It's definitely not a bad thing, because Greg loved that she could talk his teachers into cutting him out of Phys. Ed., even if it was a little embarrassing to have his mother waltz into his elementary classrooms and threaten to take him out of the district if his teacher wouldn't let off.
What exactly was his point?
--
January 15, 2004 – flashback'd
"We almost home-schooled him, once," his mother says in response to Nick's amazement at his grades. She dips her finger into the muffin batter and brings it to her lips for a taste. "In third grade, he had this terrible teacher."
Greg groans and turns away from Nick to his mother. "Do we really have to talk about that?"
"I think I'm going to have to side with Greg on this one, dear," his father says with a wink. Greg is sure there's times where he's appreciated his father greatly, but for the life of him, he can't think of one right now.
But Nick clears his throat, and when Greg looks back at him, he's got an evil almost twinkle in his eye. He doesn't even have time to wonder why before Nick's speaking. "No, I'd like to hear it,"
Hoping that his glare can say the words Greg doesn't dare speak with his mother there, Greg slumps back in his seat. Nick looks a little victorious, and Greg can't help but stick his tongue out after he mouths, "I hate you," to his boyfriend.
"Anyway, where was I? Yes. In third grade, he had this terrible teacher. Some old hag who probably hadn't been laid since she replaced her husband with fifteen cats."
"Fae," Greg's father says, his tone warning her. Fae ignores it.
"Oh, you could tell she had cats. It was all over the place, there wasn't a day I didn't walk into Greg's classroom where I didn't see her using whatever she could to get it off her cardigan."
While his mother digs under the kitchen sink for a muffin pan, Greg turns to Nick and says out of the corner of his mouth, "There wasn't a day she didn't walk into my classroom, period."
"Now, Greg didn't have very many friends," Fae continues as she pulls her head out of the cupboard, oblivious to Nick's hidden smile. "His grandparents had come into his classroom enough for the other kids to label him odd. After all, you can't blame them; my father is quite the character."
"Mom, do we really have to talk about how unpopular I was in grade school?"
"Sorry, sweetie. Anyway, he had few friends so when problems arose he had to fix them himself. It was a stormy day, raining near all morning, and Greg had a bit of a fear for rainstorms. The power went out in his classroom, just as somebody threw a rock at the classroom window from the outside. Greg had a bit of an accident."
His face flushes red. Nick smiles at him, patting Greg's leg in reassurance.
"I was already in the school, helping the school lunch workers set up for a bake sale that afternoon. His teacher called me directly and told me my son had an accident. She was hardly discreet about it, and I could hear the children in the background laughing.
"Well, I marched right on down there and helped Greg to the staff bathroom to let him get himself cleaned up, and marched right back to give Ms. Logan a piece of my mind!" She angrily stirs the muffin batter once more before pouring it into the cups. "I yelled at her in front of a classroom full of third graders. I gave her no mercy because she didn't give my son any."
Thomas sets his coffee on the table and says, "Greg wasn't exactly pleased with the experience and made sure we were very aware of that for the next few months."
Nick's eyebrows raise in surprised. "Months?" Greg shrugs.
"I hold a good grudge."
--
February 5, 2004
Throughout the week that his parents stayed, Nick had heard more stories from Greg's parents than any of his high school partners had. If Nick had practiced the same with Greg, maybe Greg wouldn't be quite as bitter about it.
But it's childish to think that if Nick doesn't let him in with anything about his past, that Greg should hold his past as collateral until Nick tells him something. Nick will open up when he feels ready, Greg supposes, even if that means he'll be waiting around for years; so Greg tried to keep his pouting to a minimal. Nick didn't catch on to it, but both of his parents did.
--
January 17, 2004 – flashback'd
"Now," his father says once Nick's left for work on Greg's night off, and Fae's left to go shopping for groceries. Thomas sits across from him at the kitchen table and refuses to break eye contact. "Forgive me if I've been spending too much time with your grandfather, but what exactly has your panties in a twist?"
Having not realized he was frowning, Greg both tenses and relaxes under his father's scrutinizing gaze. He offers a nervous half-smile to sate him. "Who said there was anything getting my panties in a twist? Maybe I'm not even wearing underwear."
"Your mother will be happy to know you're practicing good hygiene." He pauses. "I think I'd be a bad father if I didn't know when my son was bothered by something," he says, with a tone to his voice that vaguely reminds Greg of Grissom.
Greg rolls the saltshaker on its side a few times and sighs. The last person he wants to talk to about Nick is his father, who, while he accepts them without question, would probably be easily put off if Greg were to start speaking too personally. "He's not really talking to me."
Thomas nods a few times, seemingly unfazed. "I can't say I'm too surprised. He doesn't seem to be the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve." A look of surprise passes his face when Greg laughs at him.
"Are we talking about the same person here? Nick's definitely one to wear his heart on his sleeve. I mean, more so than most people. Not that I'm putting him down for that; it's just weird that he's so open and… truthful around victims or witnesses or suspects, but when he comes over he can hardly say hello to me.
"You know what's worse?" Greg asks, setting the saltshaker upright once again. "Last week he worked a child abuse case with Warrick. Took him three days, nearly constant work, to find the guy who eventually killed the little girl." Greg looks back up at his father. "He hardly said a word to me. When he finally came over after that final shift, he sat on his couch with me all night and barely said anything. By the time we'd gone to bed all I'd gotten out of him was yes and no answers. He'd been talking to Warrick in the break room before shift was over."
Thomas nodded slowly once again. For a moment, Greg thinks that's all the conversation is going to amount to. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"
Greg forces himself to smile. "Bit ironic, don't you think? Yeah, I have. He monkeys his way out of that every time I try, too."
His father doesn't offer any more insight on the subject, and when his mother returns fifteen minutes later, it's not like he could without alerting her.
--
January 19, 2004
"Oh honey, you look positively pouty!" His mother says after Greg exits the bathroom, having just cleaned it at his mother's request. ("Greg dear, I understand that you work strange hours, but it wouldn't kill you to clean that toilet once in a while!") "Troubles in bed with the hubby?" she asks, batting her eyelashes innocently.
"What? No!" Desperately trying to backpedal to figure out how he'd gotten into this mess, Greg closes his eyes tightly in an attempt to figure out why his mother is under the impression he was pouty after cleaning the toilet. "And he's not my hubby," he adds as he opens the hall closet to throw the toilet brush back in and continues, under his breath, "I suggest you don't say that around Nick, he might close up more than he already is."
Fae was obviously not ready for such a confession, as she drops the towels she's holding, but she's eager to help. Greg answers her question before she can ask.
"He's not talking to me. About much of anything except work."
"Oh, honey…" Fae offers her son a hug, who accepts it gratefully. They stand like that for a long time, Fae never uttering another word until Greg's father returns and calls out their names.
--
February 4, 2004
Greg started blaming himself, after his parents went back to California and Nick seemed to pull himself even further into his shell. Thousands of possibilities went through his head. He'd pushed too hard. He'd asked too much. Nick didn't want to tell him because it was too terrible. Nick didn't want to tell him, period. Nick had realized Greg wasn't somebody he could spend his life with and was taking longer than normal to find a suitable way to break it off that left the both of them able to still work together.
He worried himself sick. He hardly ate, he was so psyched out. It became such a problem that Sara caught him anxiously chewing on a pen one night.
"Greg?"
Putting on a happy face, Greg wipes the pen off on his jeans and grins widely. "Sara! I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you."
Under normal circumstances, Sara would have quirked an eyebrow and laughed or something. But Greg thinks that maybe nothing's normal anymore. "I saw you when shift started, Greg." She pauses, takes in the lab as Greg fights the urge to bite his nails until they bleed. "I was going to ask if you wanted to work on the B&E I was assigned to, but--Have you lost weight?"
Greg looks down at himself. "Uh…"
"My God, Greg, when was the last time you ate?" Greg shrugs. This time he doesn't fight the urge to bite and just does it. "All right, I'm getting Grissom; you're going home, but only after you get something to eat. I still have half my lunch in the break room; it's yours."
As Sara takes him from his seat, Greg immediately tries to protest. The last thing he needs is more people let in on his relationship problems. "No, really, Sara, I was just too tired to make dinner last night and I didn't get a chance to put together a lunch before I came in."
But Sara shakes her head and continues leading him through the halls towards Grissom's office. "You're a lousy cook, Greg—" he finds it in him to squawk indignantly; he thinks he cooks just fine, thank you. "—but you always find something to eat. So don't give me that."
Before Sara can knock, Grissom's door swings open, Grissom standing in front of them. He raises an eyebrow in interest, and glances between the two of them. "Can I help you?"
"Greg's sick," Sara lies, raising Greg's arm in question. "I'm requesting that you let him off early tonight."
Grissom's eyebrows raise higher, and for a long, dreadful moment, Greg thinks he's going to give in. "Well, I'd love to let him get the rest, but we're short staffed as it is, with both CSI's and techs. Hodges is out of town for a conference in San Diego with Archie, and Warrick's out on mandatory leave."
"Come on, Grissom, look at him!" At these words, Greg does his best to straighten up and widen his eyes. Sara frowns.
"He looks perfectly fine to me."
"Come on!"
Grissom peers over the top of his glasses at her, then turns to Greg. "Do you feel you cannot carry on through shift without contaminating the evidence?"
Greg's actually a little surprised that he hasn't already, but he's not going to tell Grissom that. "No, sir."
He turns back to Sara. "Nothing I can do. He thinks he's fine, there are no physical symptoms of him being sick, and we're short." He leaves before Sara can say something sharp back, and Greg wrestles out of her grip, rubbing at his now-sore wrist.
"Next time you think I'm infected, please ask me how I'm feeling before you jump to conclusions," he hisses under his breath. Sara glowers.
"I'm just trying to save your skin!" Sara says hotly.
"You mean the evidence!" he throws back with just as much heat, if not more. After seeing another lab tech stick her head out of a door to see what the commotion is, Greg takes a deep breath. "I'm fine; I'm not going to screw it up. Ye of little faith."
He starts to leave, but immediately feels guilty, and throws a meek, "Sorry," over his shoulder before bumping into Nick.
Nick pulls him away by the shoulders, but keeps him closer than he ever has at work. Greg finds his bad mood lift a little bit. "You all right? That looked a little intense."
"Sara's always intense," Greg mutters, pushing Nick's hands off him with reluctance. "It's what I like about her most."
"You all right?" Nick repeats, clearly concerned. Greg wants nothing more than to drag Nick into a layout room and tell him everything on his mind, and that if Nick's not going to really make this a relationship, he should just break it off.
But he doesn't. Instead, he nods again, smiles widely, and playfully hits Nick on the shoulder, who looks just short of being convinced. "You and Sara worry too much. I'm fine."
He walks past Nick back to his lab, and once he's turned the corner and can't feel either sets of eyes still on him, he starts biting his fingernails again.
--
February 15, 2004
Greg hasn't seen Nick outside of work for a week and a half; hell, he hasn't even talked to him on the phone. He likens it to the kind of training where somebody dangles something the trainee wants very badly in front of them. Nick is right in front of him, but his pace matches Greg's exactly, and he can't do anything about it. He keeps walking forward, trying to latch on, but Nick's just out of his reach at all times.
Still, he keeps his mouth shut and lets Nick have all the distance he needs, because, as he keeps telling himself, maybe distance is exactly what Nick needs to settle whatever problem he has going on inside his head. Hell, if it takes Nick five years to make things work between them, Greg would do it as long as he knew he was still wanted.
--
February 17, 2004
The next time Greg sees him outside of work, they fight. Or rather, Greg yells and Nick stands and takes it, like Greg's not alerting him to anything he doesn't already know.
It starts out innocently enough. Nick, to Greg's surprise, asks Greg over to stay the night, explaining in very specific detail just what he had planned – even so much as mentioning, very vaguely, that he had something to tell him – and Greg was damned excited. He hadn't expected relief to come so quickly.
However, he must've gotten his hopes up too much, because nothing happens. A few r-rated activities happen on his living room couch, but beyond that, nothing. Greg silently fumes for the rest of the night, and Nick either completely ignores it or isn't aware of how angry this back and forth game is making Greg.
It comes out accidentally. Greg had been thinking it almost all night, but when Nick finally stands up from the couch and announces his exhaustion, it slips out.
"What am I to you?"
Nick pauses. "What?"
Knowing that he can't go back now, Greg looks up from the TV and watches Nick. "What am I to you?" he repeats clearly, so he doesn't have to do it again. Nick hesitates before he sits back down.
"You're--"
Greg keeps in the scoff, but says, "Nothing worth mentioning?"
"You know that's not true."
"Then what am I to you?" Greg keeps his eyes focused; it's now or never. "I'm sick of playing games, I'm sick of watching what you do, listening to what you say, and not knowing what to do around you because I'm afraid that the millisecond I touched you was the thing that sent you over the edge."
Nick eases him into a kiss. Greg does his best not to respond; he can't be tempted, he can't let Nick out of this without some sort of explanation. "You're Greg. You're an amazing DNA technician and you're going to make an amazing CSI. You already do. You're beautiful and talented and smart, and…" he freezes. Greg's heart pounds as he silently urges him on, but Nick doesn't finish. "I'm beat." He stands up from the couch again. Greg bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood, but it doesn't stop him from speaking.
"That's it?" he says, staring at Nick's back. He turns around. "That's all you've got to tell me?"
"I answered your question,"
"No," Greg says with a shake of his head, "You avoided my question. You fed me compliments, and when you finally got to the important part, the part that I not only want to hear, but kind of need to hear if this relationship is going to make it any farther than it is, you froze."
"Can't we talk about this another night?" Nick asks, weariness obvious in his voice. "I just worked a double, G. I should already be asleep."
With a noncommittal shrug, Greg says, "Yeah, sure." He brushes past Nick and picks up his bag, continuing towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Home," Greg says, stopping in his tracks and turning back to face him. "I'm going home. Unless you have even the slightest inkling to keep me here."
Nick steps forward. "Of course I do, G. Come on. It's late, you're tired… Just stay. We can talk this out tomorrow."
"Yeah, tomorrow, sure. I've been waiting five months for talk to come, Nick, it's just not happening." He pauses, waiting for Nick to interject, but he doesn't. "I'm going home unless you can say something to keep me here. Give me something I can work with, something that gives me a light at the end of the tunnel, something that makes me sure I'm not going to come out of this hating myself for wasting my time."
But Nick doesn't. He stands there helplessly, silently begging Greg to let this go.
"All right then," Greg says with a decisive nod. "I'll see you at work."
He ignores Nick's calling of his name, and heads out anyway. He gets in his car and doesn't realize how fast he's going until the bottle of water flies out of the cup holder on a turn and hits the passenger door with enough force to pull Greg from his thoughts.
Greg slows down, and when he gets home, he takes sleeping pills to ensure he'll be well rested for the next shift. He rereads the information on the back of the bottle six or seven times to make sure he's not going to overdose in his anger, and once satisfied that one and a half pills isn't going to kill him, he downs them with water and falls into bed, the helpless look on Nick's face at the front of his mind.
We Looked Like Giants
Goddamn the black night with all its foul temptation
I become what I always hated
when I was with you then
--
February 20, 2004
Greg doesn't think he's so much as smiled since his fight with Nick, if you can even call it that. Nick didn't even really fight back or try to defend himself. It's almost as though he knew that what Greg was saying was true. Not that it wasn't; Greg wouldn't say it unless he thought it was; not something like this, anyway.
Along with the lack of smiling, he seems to have a constant headache that nothing will fix. Sara asks about it after she sees him slouching over the table in the break room, rubbing at his head. She tells him that it might be in his head, maybe physical pain coming from depression, and Greg wishes she wouldn't have come into the break room at all.
"Sara, please. Unless you have something that can get rid of the knife in my head, don't talk. Your voice sounds like you're talking through a megaphone right now, right next to my ear."
Grissom raps on the glass with his knuckles, and through a cringe, Greg looks up. He doesn't look particularly pleased as he waves his hand in a gesture for Greg to come out. Sara shoots him a sympathetic look as he exits the break room.
"You rang?"
"I gave you at least a day's work of evidence in DNA, what are you doing in the break room chatting to Sara?"
Greg swallows and says, "Sir, with all due respect, I can only run so many samples at once. And Sara was chatting to me; I was trying to get her to let me suffer in silence."
Grissom purses his lips and narrows his eyes behind his glasses. "Suffer?"
He nods eagerly before the dizziness settles in. He grabs his head and takes a few deep, calming breaths. "I have a headache. I can hardly concentrate on anything other than that."
For a long, long moment, Grissom stares at him, scrutinizing. "I'll call in a sub for tonight, you go home. I expect to see you on time tomorrow night for your shift." A pause. "Nick's almost off, you can get a ride home from him."
Greg's heart drops into his stomach. "Nick, sir?"
"Greg, what have I said about the 'sir' stuff? Yes, Nick. If you can't concentrate on work, you certainly can't concentrate on driving. I don't want any of the CSI's working your case tonight." With that, he walks away. "Nick will meet you in the break room, I suggest you don't keep him waiting; he just finished a double."
Reluctantly, Greg turns around and starts walking the opposite way. In his head, the door to the locker room gets taller and taller, looming darkly above him as though what lies behind it is traditionally only seen in nightmares. He's not really sure why he's dreading seeing Nick so much; he's seen him for work-related things over the past three days and they've both been very professional; at least Greg knows that if they break up, they'll be able to keep it together.
Nick's already in the locker room when Greg finally musters up the courage to open the door. He's sitting on the bench, tying his shoes. He hardly looks up when Greg comes in, and when he starts speaking, he talks to the floor. "Greg, listen, I—"
"I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Nick," Greg says tiredly. "And if you have to make excuses, don't say anything until I'm almost home so I don't have to endure fifteen minutes of an awkward car ride." He feels Nick's eyes on him and turns to look, a confused expression on Nick's face. "You got Grissom's page, right?" Nick nods. "All right then."
"Greg, I'm not trying to make an excuse," Nick starts, standing up.
"Then what are you trying to do?" Greg says, unbuttoning his shirt angrily. "Rip me to pieces? You're doing a fine job."
Nick doesn't say anything else while they're still in the lab and instead keeps his thoughts to himself until he's parked just outside Greg's apartment building.
"Great, thanks. I'll take a cab to work tomorrow…"
"No, I'll pick you up. Don't worry about it." Nick catches his wrist before he opens the doors. "Greg…"
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Nicky."
Nick drops his wrist. "Are you breaking up with me?"
Greg pauses; it'd be the easiest way out. He's put up with Nick's lack of communication for months; he deserves to get out, especially since there seems to be no sign of change. It'd work well, and they both could get out of this with minimal damage to themselves. He looks out in front of them, at his neighbor walking a dog with her boyfriend, at a man on his cell phone as he struggles with a bag, a box, and trying to open his car door, at a couple teaching a child to walk on the sidewalk.
He wants that. Maybe not right now, but eventually. And in order to do that, he has to know who he's dating more intimately than anyone, and right now, Greg's pretty sure that's the exact opposite. If Nick opens up, maybe even says that he'll talk about whatever it is when he's ready to, Greg can hold on. He just needs the hope. Nick's not exactly giving him any.
He wants to say yes.
"No, I'm not breaking up with you." The noise that Nick releases grabs his attention again, and he turns to look at Nick.
Nick closes his eyes and sighs, nodding. "I'll pick you up for work tomorrow," he says. His voice is quieter than normal, but Greg has this feeling that if he asks Nick what's up, he's not going to get a very decent answer.
"Tomorrow." Greg gets out of the car and makes his way into the building. A lingering feeling in the back of his mind keeps Greg from going right to sleep, but when he's moments away, he swears that the feeling is right on the tip of his tongue.
--
February 25, 2004
"Greg! Five samples for you."
"Greg, prioritize that hair strand I gave you earlier."
"I brought that in just after shift started, why isn't it done?"
Really, Greg's thinking if he has another person come into his lab and demand something be finished, he's going to go crazy. It's not even two AM and he's already overcome with too much work. The headache he finally managed to kick with a heavy dose of alcohol on his day off is creeping back.
When he finally manages to sneak away for his break, the break room is empty. Ideally, he'd like somebody else in there, willing to talk about something other than work and why Greg's single-handedly drank three pots of coffee since shift started. Looks like he'll spend his break in solitude.
After getting his coffee, Greg sits down at one of the tables and tries his best to not think about Nick and how he hasn't seen him all night, but everything comes back to him. Catherine's on a case with him, so she's out. Warrick's his best friend, so he is, too. Sara's been particularly nasty to him for the last few days, though for the life of him, Greg can't figure out why. Even Bobby's out, because his accent reminds him of Nick.
For a while, Greg thinks about Judy and whether or not her hair is that curly naturally. Warrick comes in just as he's reminded that Nick once asked her out, long before Greg and Nick started spending time outside of work on a regular basis.
"You look concentrated," Warrick comments as he throws his jacket over a chair and heads towards the coffee. "What's on your mind?"
"Judy," Greg replies thoughtfully, staring into his coffee. He sees his reflection in the liquid, and suddenly doesn't want it anymore – he looks terrible. How his coworkers haven't noticed is beyond him.
Still, Greg tries to make up in his lack of looking good by saying, "You think if I asked her out, she'd say yes?"
Warrick chuckles and shakes his head. "I doubt it, Greggo." He sits down, but doesn't offer anything else to the conversation and starts flipping through one of the magazines at the table.
A few minutes pass, in which Warrick and Greg sit in silence, drinking coffee. Warrick continues reading, Greg continues staring into his coffee. In a very strange way, Greg's happier with this situation than any other.
Nick passes by a while later, but doesn't so much as make eye contact with him. Greg gives it up. He can't keep moping around, waiting for Nick to figure out whatever his deal is.
And God, he's sick of how… dependant he's becoming. It's like he lives for the moments that Nick seems to have it all together, when he's cool and calm and collected, and isn't that how abuse victims live? Staying in the relationship for that one moment of happiness?
Warrick glances up at him as though he's just noticed Greg's presence. "You all right, Greg?"
Greg nods wearily and stands up. "Yeah, I'm fine." He dumps his coffee down the drain, catching the surprised look on Warrick's face as he leaves the break room. He passes Nick in the hallway, talking away on his phone, and he manages to smile, but something in Greg thinks it's not enough after so long, and he can't even offer one back.
--
March 2, 2004
He hates how pointless life has become. He hasn't exactly said anything to Nick outside of work, and even then, saying they talk at work is a stretch: Nick gives him evidence, Greg processes it, Nick returns for results, Greg hands them over, and Nick thanks him. That hardly constitutes as coworkers.
But on second thought… it's not like they have no contact. After shift, when Nick's not working a double or something, he makes it a priority to smile at or kiss Greg before he leaves, which is better than nothing. Right?
Whatever. The idea that it's better than the alternative is, well, better than the alternative.
He notices that people watch him a lot more often. Like, a lot. He can be plugging away at work, trying to get as much done as he can, and when he looks up, three people are just staring at him. Like they have nothing better to do. It's totally unnerving.
The first few days, sure, Greg puts up with it. But after about five days of unashamed staring, he starts putting up paper on the glass walls to keep the prying eyes away. And it works… Until Grissom finds out.
"This is a hazard, you know," he says when he comes in to drop off evidence personally.
"How so?" Greg says, not even bothering to try to sound happy or optimistic. Life sucks, and he doesn't need to pretend it doesn't.
"If you poison yourself, nobody would be able to help until they came to drop off evidence. We'd never know until we needed your expertise, and by then it may be too late."
Internally, Greg thinks, Would that be so bad?, but he knows Grissom expects something more than that, so he doesn't say it. Instead, he says, "I'll take it down." To drive his point home, he walks over to the edge of one and begins to pull, only stopping to ask, "Can you not… If you notice people… y'know… staring… Mind telling them off?"
Grissom studies him for a moment, reading him, and then nods. "Of course." He abandons the evidence on the table and turns to leave. "Greg…"
"Yes, si---Grissom?"
"If it'd help, you can take tomorrow night off."
Greg has no idea how Grissom can so easily read him. "I appreciate the offer, but it's better for me to work."
His boss nods again. Greg almost feels relieved that he doesn't say anything else and just goes, but there's a part of him that thinks that if Grissom doesn't know what to say, how the hell is Greg?
Tiny Vessels
So one last touch and then you'll go
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
But it was vile, and it was cheap
And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
March 14, 2004
When Greg turns up unannounced on Nick's doorstep almost two weeks later, the first thing Nick does after inviting him in is ask why he brought a backpack. The words are out of Greg's mouth before he can think.
"We have to talk."
Nick's face doesn't pale or flush and his expression doesn't change. It's annoying. Greg finds himself hating it. "Greg…"
"Save it. I'm sick of getting my hopes up." Even as he's saying them, Greg wants to take it back. Sometimes, when he's lucky, just sitting with Nick, curled against his body on the couch, even if they haven't said a word, is still better than sitting alone anywhere.
"Greg…"
Greg holds a hand up and scratches at his forehead with the other. "Please. Don't make this worse." He turns to Nick's bedroom and ignores Nick still calling his name.
It's not as easy as all that, though, and Nick follows him. "Greg, come on… don't…"
"Don't do this? I've listened to you too long, Nick; this time, I'm doing something I want." An awkward lump rises in his throat. He clears it before it can turn into anything.
There's a lengthy pause in which the only sound is Greg tearing through Nick's dresser drawers and closet to find clothes he'd left, then, "You want this?"
It takes nearly all of Greg's willpower to stick to his plan. Why does this have to be so hard? "Sure."
"You don't sound definite."
"Does it matter if I sound definite or not? It's not like we're going anywhere." He stops himself before he turns into one of the girls his father used to talk about, that complain and complain for hours about how terrible their boyfriend treated them but never do anything about it. "Look. Don't worry about it. We'll be fine.
The words sound false coming out of his mouth. Nick doesn't say anything else until Greg's ready to leave. He starts thinking that there's something he needs to say, and just as he starts trying to say it, Nick grips his arm, tightly. Greg is suddenly flooded with memories of how terrible he is at breaking up with people.
"You're sure? You really have to do this?"
He doesn't trust his voice, not really, but if hearing Greg say it is what it'll take to make Nick try harder to keep them together… "Yeah. I have to do this." His arm is starting to turn color, Nick's holding it so tightly. Greg wrings his arm away and adjusts the strap on his backpack, just for something to do. Just to keep his eyes off Nick, his arms from pulling Nick back.
"Okay."
Greg wants to scream, wants to tell Nick to fight for what matters, when it occurs to him that maybe he doesn't matter to Nick. Maybe he doesn't care about Greg as much as Greg cares about him. It hits his stomach like a brick.
All the more reason Greg should want to get away, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to fall back into Nick's strong arms and pretend nothing's wrong, how being with Nick and being miserable is better than not being with Nick and being miserable. It's not; Greg knows deep down it's healthier if he follows through, not just for him, but for both of them.
"I'll see you at work," he says before he can change his mind, and pulls the door closed behind him. The streetlights sparkle against the hood of his car, parked next to Nick's truck. Greg gets a brief, powerful image of the two of them growing old together, cars parked in the driveway together, with two children and a dog named Rufus or Rory or Rudy. A car peels down the street and takes the image with it.
With a sigh, Greg walks to the car and climbs in, breathing shakily. He leaves before Nick can come out and ask what's wrong, why Greg's still in his driveway, because the last thing he needs is comfort from his now ex-boyfriend. The choked, empty laughter that's keeping him from crying falters and what comes out sounds more like a sob. That's what Nick's always going to be. Never a coworker, never a friend. Always an ex-boyfriend. A failed relationship, even if it wasn't Greg's failure.
God, that hurts more than it should.
--
March 16, 2004
Greg calls in sick for two days, but Nick allegedly does, too, so he doesn't feel too bad about it. He spends all night sleeping on his couch, watching reruns of Law & Order and some sitcom he never catches the name of and eating ice cream. It's not like he has anyone to talk to about this; know one really knew.
"Maybe you've caught the same thing," Sara suggests when she stops by to bring him chicken noodle soup, sans chicken.
"Maybe," Greg replies, thankful he can write off his lack of wit on feeling terrible.
--
March 17, 2004
When he goes back to work, Nick avoids him as much as he can. Greg finds himself swamped with emotion, most of all anger, disappointment, and happiness. Angry because there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to work together, disappointed because he thought Nick would know that, and happy because Nick's staying out of his lab. While Greg wants to pretend everything is normal because he doesn't want word to get out about them, he's also glad that Nick realizes Greg doesn't really want to see him, not right now. Which is ass-backwards, because Greg should be fine with it; Nick should be the one hurting. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. Maybe Greg should stop focusing on what he doesn't know and focus on what he does.
"Nick seems out of it," Jacqui comments when he gets back to work. "Hardly reacts to anything anybody says." She eyes Greg curiously. He wonders if he's showing physical symptoms of self-induced heartbreak. Jacqui stares for a long time. "What'd you do to him?"
Nick's just across the hall in Archie's room, looking more uncomfortable in the lab than Greg's ever seen him. Maybe Archie said something; the A/V tech tends to be the one to often give Nick the push he needs.
Finally, Greg forces himself to look away and starts sorting through the papers on the desk. "Nothing." Because he didn't do anything; Nick brought this on himself.
--
March 30, 2004
For two weeks, Greg hardly sleeps at all. Maybe a few hours a night, if that, and never for two hours at a time. The only reason he's still alive is because of caffeine. His lab work took a nosedive off the deep end and is taking far too long to return. Grissom has spoken to him about it a few times, and there was even a moment that Greg actually thought Nick was going to talk to him about it. That obviously didn't pan out.
Greg still hates how badly Nick still affects him, how his mind doesn't often think about much else. How he closes his eyes and sees Nick's face transform from adoration to fear, how he wants to hit something when that happens.
It's unfair. Nick hardly shows signs of anything, no heartbreak or fatigue, nothing. And it might be the glass walls between them at all times that keeps Greg from noticing it, whatever, but really. It wouldn't kill him to look a little bothered.
Greg also hates how much he doesn't want to care and how much he does. He hates how a small part of him loves, and probably always will love, Nick. He hates how, after work, instead of greeting him with a kiss like he used to, Nick can hardly move. He hates how much control Nick still has over him. Luckily, Nick either doesn't notice or he doesn't stoop that low, because Nick never calls him out on anything.
Around the twenty-second, Nick came into work with a plastic bag. He refused to let anyone know what was inside, and Greg overheard a few rumors about how Nick had killed someone and was bringing the head in to the lab because nobody would suspect it (among, of course, many others but that was Greg's favorite).
It turned out that the bag was filled with a few of the things Greg had brought over ages ago, when they were still dating. Things he'd missed when he went back to collect. There wasn't even a note. No, "Here's some stuff you forgot," or "I thought you'd want this back," nothing.
Honestly, Greg's not sure how he feels about that.
Title and Registration
And now that it's gone it's like it wasn't there at all
and here I rest where disappointment and regret collide
Lying awake at night
---
April 14, 2004
Greg shouldn't still feel so bad about this. He shouldn't feel like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and reinserted a few times. He should feel fine. Normal, even. There's nothing that says he should feel terrible about a break up that he knew was going to happen.
He still doesn't sleep. Not like he used to. It might be that his sheets still smell like Nick even after three washes, it might be that his couch is terribly uncomfortable. Frankly, Greg doesn't give a damn. When he can't sleep, he can't dream, and when he can't dream, he can't dream about Nick. Even if he's drinking enough coffee to kill a small mammal, at least he's not waking up wishing Nick were with him.
Sure, he's had his share of heartbreak. Everybody does at some point in their life; Greg's obviously no stranger to that. But most people don't have to deal with heartbreak that they did all themselves. A guy doesn't just break up with his girlfriend, or in this case, boyfriend, because he feels like he needs to wallow in pain for a while. There's always a reason, and the more Greg looks back on it, the more he realizes how stupid of a mistake it really was.
They had something. Obviously, they weren't perfect. Obviously, they both had issues. They're human, they make mistakes, and they face consequences. Cause and effect. Every action has an equal but opposite reaction, whatever. And okay, maybe he shouldn't be comparing their relationship to Newton's third law of motion; maybe Murphy's Law is better. In hindsight, 'everything that can go wrong will go wrong' seems much more fitting. Maybe that's just the pessimism sinking in.
Greg's sick of maybes. He wants answers, but if Nick didn't give him answers while they were together, why would he now? Nick really doesn't owe him anything, even if Greg wants him to. Even if Greg feels like every minute he's not sleeping is because Nick couldn't talk to him, couldn't even pretend for five seconds that there was something keeping him from being happy.
He talks himself in circles now more often than he used to. He used to be calmed by it; it got him from wrong to right just by eliminating all it wasn't. Now, he talks himself in circles and ends up with more questions than answers. He wonders if it's always been like that, or if it's something that Nick brought out in him.
Archie seems to be the only one to notice anything's changed in him. Maybe Greg's more cautious around Jacqui and Sara, worried that they're going to catch on, so he makes himself that much more bouncy and energetic. Archie. Archie, who probably could have gone into psychology if it weren't for the fact that he's perfectly at home in the A/V lab. Archie, who can just look at a photo and find something that three CSIs have missed for the last hour. Archie, who wasn't even introduced properly before he became Greg's favorite lab tech. Honestly, Greg never expected Archie to be able to see through him when the women at the lab couldn't. It's not that Archie's dense, just that he's male, and guys tend to either ignore or not notice this kind of thing.
"Lemme guess. Five days without sleep."
If it was anybody else, Greg would have cracked a joke. But Archie is easily the most understanding person here, and if any of his friends are going to understand without trying to really help, it'd be Archie.
"Five days."
His laugh is humorless. He turns around, ignoring his coffee in favor of hearing what Archie has to say. Never mind that Greg's about to sleep where he's standing. "So is there a reason you can't sleep, or are you going for the world record?"
"World record, obviously," Greg says as he turns back around and finishes pouring his coffee before joining Archie at the table. They're silent for a few moments, Archie continuing to page through the magazine about home decorating in front of him.
"And it wouldn't have anything to do with Nick, right?"
"Of course not."
"Right." Archie closes the magazine, stands up. Greg thinks he's gotten out of this far too easily. "They don't make pills, you know. And if they did, they wouldn't help."
Greg clenches his fingers and unclenches them again. "I have dreams."
Archie knocks on the door frame and nods his head. "Definitely wouldn't help with that either."
Just as Archie leaves, Nick walks by and stops to talk to him. Their eyes meet for a split second before Nick turns away.
Greg doesn't feel tired anymore. Not in the fatigued sense, at least.
--
April 15, 2004
The next shift, he walks into the DNA lab to find three lab techs and Judy crowded around the main table, talking excitedly under their breath.
"Is there a party you forgot to invite me to?" Greg says as he shrugs off his jacket. "You know, it's just rude to throw a party without asking or informing the host."
"Nick's hand is bandaged," Jacqui says.
Greg catches Archie's gaze before he says, "So? It's not exactly the first time he's gotten a fracture or sprain from having a tough case."
Judy shakes her head. "The last case he worked was a B&E. It's obviously something personal."
"Yeah, I still have security tapes," Archie offers.
"Don't you guys have anything better to do than gossip about whether or not Nick broke his wrist because of a case?"
"Clearly not. And you used to be all over this kind of thing," Hodges says, crossing his arms. Greg groans; he really, really doesn't want to deal with this.
"What the hell are you even doing here? Shift started fifteen minutes ago and there's a bunch of backlog in trace with, oh, get this, your name on it." Greg knows he sounds cruel, but since he's still not sleeping, he thinks he can get away with it. So what if a few of the lab techs think he's an ass? It's not as if the CSIs will talk to him about... it… "Hodges, I'm sorry. Please, come back. Discuss gossip while I try to work."
Hodges looks a little surprised. "Actually, I think I will go back to work." Greg wonders if there's an unspoken rule of if Hodges can't handle someone, nobody can, because the others clear out as soon as Hodges is gone. Even Archie heads out.
Greg must really be hell to deal with right now.
--
April 17, 2004
"Greg, sweetie, you know I love you, but if you don't get out of this rut anytime soon I'm just going to have to come to Vegas and kick this Nick guy's ass for hurting my froggy so much."
Greg blushes heavily at Anita's pet name for him back from his college days, but figures at this point, it's better to ignore. "Don't worry about me so much. I'm fine." A glance around his living room doesn't help that statement much; Greg decides it's best to leave that nice tidbit of information out. As much as he loves Anita, he doesn't need her coming all the way out to Vegas from New York to help him 'move on' by one-night stands or ice cream and romantic comedies for two weeks until her boss demands her back. He can get through this break up on his own. And if he doesn't… he has bigger problems to deal with. "Besides, you have a baby girl with a bad cold, you shouldn't bring her out here. We're exposed to all sorts of diseases and stuff."
Static crackles of the phone and Anita continues with, "Oh, you just don't want me to come out there." More static. "She's much better today. I'm serious, Greg. Felicia's important, and certainly takes the front seat to your petty little problems, but you're important, too. You can't expect me to just sit here in New York on my ass when I know you're suffering." Petty problems. Greg doesn't fight it.
Taking a long drink from the bottle of water sitting on the counter, he tries not to scoff. "This is why I didn't answer your calls for two weeks, Annie. I can pretend all I want around everyone else but you just know."
"It's a mother thing." For a moment, Anita is silent while Felicia coughs and sniffles.
"She sounds so… behaved."
"She is. The doctor was worried about her because she wasn't constantly screaming." Before he can continue, Anita returns to Nick. "Greg, sweetie. Promise me if you don't get closure on this somehow, someway, soon, that you'll take the next flight out to New York and stay with me a while. You know it'll do you good."
Actually, he thinks that staying with Anita will make matters worse, not better, but he appreciates the offer. "Of course, Anita. You have my word."
More static. "Whether or not you'll actually do as I've asked is a completely different matter… Please, Greg. I don't want to lose you over this."
Her words sound like something Nick would have said to him weeks and weeks ago, but he shakes the thought of Nick out of his head as soon as it enters. "You won't. I'm not stupid. I'll be fine." Hearing it makes it sound so final. He really hopes he can keep it together, if not for himself or for the lab, at least for Anita. A glance at the clock tells him he should have been asleep hours ago. "I have to go, Annie. I should've been in bed a long time ago."
"Oh, all right. Call me if you need me for anything. I know you could call your mother, too, but this is what girlfriends are for, my froggy. I love you."
"Love you too, Annie. Goodnight."
When he hangs up, his shoulders feel lighter. Not light like there's nothing left to worry about, but lighter like he's glad there's someone who he can talk to. Greg doesn't actually think he'll need to talk to Anita about it again, unless Nick starts screwing things up, but it's the thought that counts.
A Lack of Color
I slur a plea for you to come home
But I know it's too late
I should have given you a reason to stay
given you a reason to stay
April 9, 2004
Honest, Nick loves him. Without a doubt, Nick loves him. Hundreds of times he'd nearly bet his life on a case or a game because he'd been so sure, but Nick is absolutely, positively, completely certain that he loves Greg with all of his heart.
There's no room for doubt. There's nothing to dislike. He has a brilliant smile, a brilliant mind, brilliant eyes, hair, teeth. Greg is as close to perfect as Nick thinks a person can be. He's innocent, almost completely unharmed, carefree. Wonderful. Beautiful. Talented. Skilled. Adorable. There are no words to describe how amazing Nick thinks Greg is.
But still, he let him go. He didn't try to save their relationship, didn't beg Greg to come back or try to open up or anything; he just let the relationship pieces fall where they may. Unfortunately, they didn't fall anywhere he wanted them to. It's really not like Nick didn't care, because he did. But it's… well, he doesn't really have an excuse. Of course, he shouldn't have one anyway, because it shouldn't be just one party's fault when a relationship goes to hell; it should just be something that happens. Nick's a firm believer in all that partner equality stuff, equal weight carried between couples and everything, so he tends to believe that when a relationship goes to hell it's not just one person's fault; if blame has to be placed at all, it's on both of them.
His relationship with Greg, however, is a very different matter. Nick is solely responsible for their break up, even if he wasn't the one who finally put the plan into motion, so to speak.
If Nick had opened up, said even one damn thing about anything… He tells things to his therapist all the time, it's not a problem. And sure, there's probably some deep psychological reason why Nick's been so out of it, so distant, why he'd rather listen to Greg talk about DNA replication for hours than hear himself talk about anything and watch Greg's face crumble because Nick's telling him about something terrible in his past.
He'd much rather listen to Greg being happy than watch him fall apart.
Inside, Nick's kind of a pessimistic person. He tries to be happy, he does. He's over thirty, still alive, still functioning alone in the world. And he's away of how many people don't have a caring family or a roof over their heads or even enough change to buy a gumball, and compared to the cardboard boxes they call home in alleyways, Nick's apartment might as well be a mansion.
So he's not totally and completely pessimistic. He's a romantic at heart, tries to save everyone he can. He sees the bright side of things more often than anybody else on the team does, so it's not as if he's completely pessimistic. He likes life, he's just not always sure why.
The alarm clock on his nightstand blasts loudly, and Nick reaches out to shut it off without a second thought. He hasn't slept for two days. He's thrown himself into work since Greg called it off, trying to spend the least amount of time he can doing nothing. If he's not doing something, the likelihood of his thoughts trailing back to Greg are sky-high.
--
April 14, 2004
"Was it like a… coming out thing?" Warrick asks, after Nick's settled at the kitchen table and Warrick's closed his front door behind him.
Nick hasn't been here for months. The wall colors look different, darker. He has half the mind to ask Warrick if he's painted.
"Still with me?"
"What?"
Warrick looks amused as he leans against the counter, tapping his keys against the top. "You're really out of it right now. When's the last time you slept?"
Nick shakes his head. "I don't know. Have you painted?"
"No." He sits in the chair across from Nick, watching him. Nick keeps staring at the walls. "You sure you're okay? You haven't been the same for a while, man."
"If I'm not going to tell Greg, why would I tell you?"
"Because you're afraid he won't want you after he found out."
"I am not. Don't get all psychological on me, man, I don't need it."
"No, you need Greg. Stop acting like he'll break the second you say something, he's not an ice sculpture. He got out of that lab explosion with two things, scars and a hell of a story. He's not scared to death of the lab, just a little jumpier. He's not going to break if you talk to him about whatever you keep convincing yourself not to tell him." Warrick stands back up and clambers around in his cupboards for a while. "Coffee?"
"Sure."
Warrick doesn't bring up Greg up again, thankfully, but they don't really even talk much at all, not about anything important, at least. When he goes home, he feels like he hasn't slept in years, but he's not tired, not like he should be, at least. The word 'sleep' seems so beautiful in his mind, the word 'bed' even more beautiful, but the rational part of his mind tells him that his bed reminds him of Greg and if he so much as walks into his bedroom, he won't sleep again.
He does it anyway.
--
April 18, 2004
"Hello?"
Nick doesn't say anything, just revels in Greg's groggy voice. At least he's sleeping. Greg doesn't deserve sleeplessness.
"What do you want Nick?"
"I don't…"
"It's two in the afternoon, of course you want something. What?"
"I'm… I'm sorry."
"You couldn't wait to tell me this at work tomorrow night?" Greg is wide awake, now, at least his voice is, and Nick feels terrible about waking him up. Maybe he should hang up, try to sleep. Something, anything.
"About everything. If I could do it all over again, I'd do it right. I know you want to know why some cases hit so hard, why I never said anything you wanted me to. You're just… Too light. You're happy. I don't want to ruin you."
"Ruin me? Nick, there's nothing in your past that could possibly ruin me. I've dealt with death, with grieving. I'm not that special, I'm not treated any different. Nothing you say can make me hate life. Whatever it is…"
There's a long silence, Nick figures a few minutes. Greg's breathing is soft, steady. It almost lulls him to sleep until Greg asks, "What do you want me to say?"
"You don't have to say anything."
"Then why are you calling me?"
Why is he calling? It's not like Nick's going to change overnight, it's not like one phone call is going to change how he feels about telling Greg anything. It should, Nick should feel terrible just by thinking of the letter 'g' but he's still terrified of Greg losing his happiness. He's still terrified that mentioning anything about his life will take away Greg's bounce without a second thought. "I don't know."
"I'm hanging up. I'll see you tomorrow night, Nick."
"No, wait, Greg--"
"Wait for what? For you to decide that you do want to let me in? I've already waited long enough; I don't need to wait around for you to come to the same conclusion."
"I'm sorry."
"You said that."
"I wish I could take this back," Nick says.
"Said that, too."
"I don't know how to fix this." Greg's responding laugh is like nothing Nick's ever heard. "I mean, I do, but... I don't think I can."
"Would you rather I sit in on one of your therapist sessions? I don't have to hear you say it, Nick, I just need to know what's bothering you so much. That's what couples do, they talk to each other. I can't just pretend I know. It doesn't work like that."
"No. No, you shouldn't have to find out like that. It's not... no."
"Nick, it doesn't matter now anyway. We're not a couple, it shouldn't bother you. You don't owe me anything anymore. Don't worry about it."
Realizing it's now or never, Nick grips his phone tighter and says, "I thought maybe it'd help."
There's a lengthy pause on Greg's part, then a whispered, "What?"
"I thought maybe if I didn't open up to you, it'd hurt less when it'd end."
Another lengthy pause, then Greg explodes. "You expected it to end? Then what the fuck were the last eight months to you, a game?"
Suddenly, everything that Nick had sensed that wasn't said on Greg's part over the last eight months comes flowing out. Nick listens patiently, doesn't try to butt in or make excuses for himself, because at this point, it'll only make things worse.
When Greg settles down, when his curses and angered rambling turns into fast breathing, Nick sighs into the phone.
"I'm still really, really sorry."
"Nick… they're just words, do you really think they're going to do anything?" Flashes of the past four years pass through Nick's mind and it finally hits him: he had the perfect person and he ruined it. "I'm going back to bed, Nick. It's late, and I've finally started sleeping normally again. I'll see you at work."
Greg hangs up without as much as a goodbye. Nick doesn't think he's desperate enough to call back. Greg doesn't want him. That's clear. And he's not going to cause either of them any more trouble over this.
It still hurts, he still regrets everything he's done, but he's accepted it. When he falls asleep twenty minutes later, Greg's still on his mind, but in a different way. It's a different regret. This is more painful, because before, he was mid-mistake. Now he's mid-regret.
Date suggests it takes place after 'Grave Danger.' Also, also, brief mentions of Play with Fire.
Nothing Better (The Postal Service)
So just say how to make it right
And I swear I'll do my best to comply
Epilogue
May 19, 2005
"I can't allow you to see him unless you're family, sir. Are you a… brother?" The lady at the front desk sounds so hopeful, like she sees right through Greg and knows he isn't Nick's brother or cousin or long lost whatever, but if he as much as breathes that he is, she'll believe him. She almost looks like she wants Greg to say so.
Greg shakes his head, desperate. "Please. It's really, really important that I see him. Immediately." Greg's voice cracks midway through speaking, but she still shakes her head.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir."
Deciding at this point, it's better to let it go, Greg thanks her and heads back to the waiting room, where the majority of the nightshift is waiting eagerly on his word. Catherine sits up, just as hopeful as the woman at the front desk, but a slow, solemn shake of his head diminishes the half-excitement he sees building in her body language.
"This is bullshit," Warrick says after a moment of silence except for the TV static in the background. "We're closer to him than his family. You know, his parents hardly come to see him?" He scoffs. "He has to be kidnapped before they find it in them to take a flight. And his sisters…" Warrick shakes his head.
Catherine looks even more tired than Warrick, which is quite a feat and a big surprise to Greg, because Warrick looks like death. "Warrick, come on, you get this…" She reaches out to grab at Warrick's hand, but he stands and resumes his fevered pacing around the room. Archie lets out a small groan, exasperated. When Greg shoots him a half-irritated, half-confused look, the A/V tech offers a sheepish smile and apologizes softly.
Eventually, Greg tunes back in to Warrick and Catherine's ongoing conversation. "--If Grissom gets to go in, why don't I?"
"Grissom's leading an investigation," Catherine starts, but is interrupted by the man himself. "How is he?"
"I'm not going to lie, he's not doing well. It'll be a while before he's ready to come back to work." Grissom makes a good show of looking at everyone in the room, but his eyes keep darting back to Greg, as if Greg has answers that Grissom doesn't yet. Greg burrows a little deeper into the comforting confines of his coat and swallows.
Catherine stirs in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously. "Did he ask for anyone?"
A blaze of hope starts to build in Greg's chest as he looks to Grissom for an answer.
"No. He just wants to rest." Grissom finally forces his eyes from Greg and says, "You should all go home. Even the Stokes found a hotel for the night. Nick will rest easier knowing you're all at home, safe." Greg wants to ask how Grissom knows that, if Nick actually said that or if Grissom just wants to make sure his team will be ready to go back to work tomorrow night or whenever Ecklie feels cruel enough to demand them back. His mouth refuses to form even the least of the words.
It doesn't take much more coaxing on Grissom's part to convince everyone to leave, and Greg's almost thankful for the out, even if he has to go home and sleep in an empty bed and try not to think of Nick alone in a hospital bed, miserable, whether he's conscious or not.
"Greg? A word, please," Grissom says as the others are gathering their things. Greg stands awkwardly, his joints rubbing together and cracking in protest.
"Hmm?"
"He mentioned you. In passing." Greg's heart skips a beat at this revelation. "Given the circumstances, I decided it would be better to inform you of this away from the others."
Greg takes a few deep breathes to get his heartbeat back under control and hopes Grissom doesn't notice. Grissom notices everything, though. "Um… excuse me?"
"His pain meds make him a bit loopy, of course, so what he's saying could be nowhere near what he means, but with my understanding, I think he was asking for you." Greg's indecisiveness must show on his face, because the next thing Grissom says is, "I've already informed the nurse that Nick's half-brother…" Choked laughter emerges from Greg's lips; Grissom lying to hospital staff, or anyone, for that matter, isn't exactly a new development, but Greg hasn't had the liberty of someone lying for his case in a while. "…will be in to see him tonight. I don't know why—" The look in Grissom's eyes says he does indeed know why, but doesn't want to explicitly speak it aloud. "—But he needs you."
Greg can only nod.
"I'll be sure that you're covered at work," Grissom says simply, then leaves. Greg slowly makes his way back through the halls to the elevator, up to Nick's room.
He has a private room, probably because of a combination of the ant bites prominence and Grissom's lying, but that makes things easier, almost. Not for Greg, but for Nick. When he's awake, he doesn't have to deal with prying eyes, other people wondering what happened, and no children to ask mortifyingly innocent questions before their parents pull them away.
He'll get enough pity from the nurses and his coworkers. Greg definitely doesn't pity him; he wishes he could've taken his place, sure, but he doesn't pity him. Not many people are buried alive and live to tell the tale. People might say he's a hero of sorts, but to Greg, Nick's so much beyond a hero.
He takes a deep breath, and pushes open the door to Nick's room.
Nick's quiet, still except for his right hand twitching as though he's asking for something. Greg carefully scoots a chair closer to the bed and stares down at Nick's hand. Speechless. Because really, what's he supposed to say? Whatever he might think of would fall on deaf ears anyway. And it's not like there's much to say. 'I love you,' maybe, but despite how much truth in that, there's no reason to say it. Not right now.
Greg's eyes circle around one of the bites on Nick's twitching hand, up his forearm, up to his neck, to his face. Connecting the dots.
It takes all of Greg's willpower not to reach forward and take Nick's hand. He doesn't know the extent of the pain Nick's enduring, or whether it compares to the pain he had after the lab exploded. He doesn't know if even the slightest bit of touching will cause the bites to flare up even more, or if the gesture itself would soothe Nick.
He's out cold. He wouldn't know anyway.
Despite his best judgment, Greg stretches his arm forward and traces the skin that isn't marred by wounds, and sighs.
Someone knocks and opens the door. Greg figures they'll do what they need and leave, but no one enters. "Mr. Stokes?" It takes a minute for Greg to realize that the voice must be speaking to him. He pulls his hand away from Nick and turns to look.
The nurse holds up a tube of ointment, smiling sadly. Even her eyes dart between Nick's face, Greg, and the ant bites defacing Nick's skin. "I have to apply medication to his…" she gestures to her arms as though it completes the sentence. It doesn't, but Greg doesn't want to get thrown out, so he doesn't argue.
"Sure. Do… do you want me to leave?"
The emotion in his voice must give away his reluctance to leave, because the nurse smiles and shakes her head. "No, Mr. Stokes. You can stay."
She calls him by Nick's last name three more times before Greg realizes how much he likes it. He's nothing short of relieved when she wheels in a reclining chair for him an hour later. He's certain he won't use it, but he appreciates the effort anyway.
--
May 20, 2005
Greg wakes up to hushed voices. For a moment, he's forgotten where he is, and it's too bright to open his eyes and find out, so he just listens, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness behind his eyelids first.
"No idea how long he's been here?"
"No, Mr. Stokes. Like I said before, he was here when my shift started."
"Oh, let the poor man sleep a little longer," a woman says, her voice heavy with worry and exhaustion. "He wouldn't be here if he didn't care."
Greg waits for a response, but there isn't one. He forces his eyes open, squinting at the bright light filtering in from the windows. Nick's still sleeping, but he's facing the opposite wall. Greg glances at the monitor on the left side of the bed and based on what he knows about hospital machines, Nick seems to be fine. Beyond that, no one's crying, which can only be a good sign.
"Who the hell're you?" a man with a gruff, angry voice asks. Greg jumps. Nick's parents, right. He should have expected that.
"Uh, Greg. Greg Sanders. I work with Nick." This isn't how he'd hoped to meet the parents. He's not sure how he'd hoped to meet them – or if he ever hoped to meet them, for that matter – but intruding on their private moments with their injured son isn't anywhere on that scope of thought.
Nick's mother blinks rapidly at him, while Nick's father doesn't blink at all. Neither of them introduces themselves. The tension rises quickly, and, with no other idea about what to do, Greg picks himself up and ignores the throbbing pain in his back from falling asleep in the wrong position.
"I can go…"
"I think that'd be best."
"Oh, nonsense. That's not necessary."
They speak at the same time, and share an irritated look. Greg feels awkward, out of place. "I really should go. My boss will want me back at work tonight." He glances at Nick again, focuses on his closed eyes, and wants to leave his cell number, but doesn't want to ask. He wants to crawl in bed with Nick and hold him until everything's okay, but figures that's not exactly a good idea considering the situation at hand.
"Oh, Mr. Sanders, it's no trouble, really. At least give me your cell phone number so I can call you if something arises."
Greg shoots a glance at Nick's father. His expression makes the decision very effortless, at least in one sense. "Please. Don't worry about it." His chest hurts as he says it.
"I insist," Mrs. Stokes says as she digs through her purse. Her husband grimaces and looks away from Nick, towards the painting next to the television. Greg can't decide if he's pissed because Greg won't just leave, or if he's pissed because Greg's there instead of a girl. They both terrify him. "You obviously care a lot about my son. I want to keep you updated on his condition."
Chancing another glance at Nick's father, Greg decides, what the hell, and gives in.
"All right." Greg takes the outstretched writing tablet from Nick's mother and writers his name, cell number, and home number. When he hands it back, she takes it without a word.
"Bye."
"Goodbye, dear."
Mr. Stokes grunts. Greg looks at Nick for one flash of a second, then leaves.
--
May 20, 2005
Nick wakes up in a fit of terror late that night. Alone. Guilt wracks Greg's body like never before when Mrs. Stokes informs him, so much so that after he hangs up, he dry heaves into his kitchen sink.
Later, Greg hears from Sara, who asks maybe a million times why Greg's not at work with the rest of them, and when Greg refuses to answer, defaults to talking about Grissom sticking it to Ecklie about Greg's absence. She asks about Nick and his parents, and if his father is just as stoic as Catherine said he was.
Grissom doesn't demand his presence at work, so Greg spends the night in the hospital with Nick, only arriving after Nick's mother called to tell him that they had already left. Mrs. Stokes seemed to understand his uneasiness around Nick's father, though she hadn't said anything regarding the subject.
Catherine calls Greg's cell phone a few times while he's at the hospital, leaves desperate voicemails begging him to call her back, but he doesn't. After the third message, he shuts it off with plans to say it died if she gets on his case about it.
An hour in, Nick's still sleeping. Greg makes awkward small talk with the nurses for a while, bouncing his legs and cracking his knuckles in nervousness.
"Mr. Stokes, there's a television, you know." Greg nods. The nurse watches him for a moment, then leaves. His hands remain in his lap.
Nick stirs at around eleven o'clock, and his movements halt Greg's. Nick looks at him with half-lidded eyes, offers a small, half-hearted smile, and falls back asleep. Greg's muscles relax.
He's okay.
Around midnight, a male nurse brings coffee when he comes to give Nick another dose of medication through his IV. When Greg asks him how the nurse knew he was a coffee drinker, he says, as he hands over the Styrofoam cup and creamer, "You look like a coffee person," then leaves.
The wonders of modern medicine amaze Greg, as the bites already look like old scars, and he isn't afraid to touch them anymore.
Two AM, Nick wakes up. He's still loopy from the medication and his sentences don't always make sense, but the ones that matter do.
"Greg…"
Still afraid to touch, Greg just hovers over the bed. "Hey."
"Didn't think you'd be here." Greg smiles. Or tries to, at least.
"Couldn't stay away."
Nick swallows and closes his eyes. Sighs. "…Parents?"
"Went back to the hotel. They stay during the day. I'm here at night." Saying it out makes it sound like they're together, like Nick's parents don't know or don't approve. Greg forces the thought away, then laughs humorlessly. "Your dad scares the shit out of me."
Nick smiles. "I'm really sorry. About… everything."
Greg isn't sure what to say, so he just pats Nick's arm where it looks least irritated and tries to make his smile bigger. "Don't worry about it." Nick's hand twitches, and Greg intertwines their fingers.
"'m really sorry. I promise…" Nick shakes himself awake. "S'tired."
"I know." Greg clears the lump out of the back of his throat. "We'll talk later, all right? You just rest."
--
June 14, 2005
The words settle in the back of his throat, but he can't make them come out. I'm so glad you're okay and I missed this and any other sappy, romantic thing he can think of but doesn't want to say.
For a minute, he almost thinks Nick might say it for him, but Nick's mouth remains tightly closed against Greg's neck. Greg's starting to lose feeling in his arms. He tugs him closer, desperate to keep contact. Nick's knuckles press hard against Greg's back, but he's worried that the moment the pressure lessens is the moment he'll lose Nick again.
"You—," His voice gets caught in his throat. "You have to start talking to me."
"I know," Nick says softly, his lips just barely moving against Greg's skin.
"Because--I can't--" Greg coughs, readjusts his neck, and pulls Nick tighter still at the thought of his kidnapping; of losing him for good. "If you--"
"I know," Nick says again, and the tone of his voice tells Greg how much he means it this time. Nick starts to pull away, but Greg tugs him back.
"Don't." He doesn't. "Nicky..."
Nick rocks back and forth, softly, as he might when trying to lull a baby to sleep. "I know." Greg almost wants to tell him to say something other than, I know, but Nick hasn't even been home for a month and Greg's breaking down more frequently than he is. Things hit him harder, it seems. Or Nick's still skilled in trying to make things so much better, to try to be so optimistic that he doesn't show it.
And Greg's with him damn near every second of everyday, so it's not like it's a work thing or something. Grissom hardly lets them be apart.
Nick's voice breaks into his thoughts. "I want you to come with me."
Greg pulls away from Nick's neck long enough to look him in the eye. One of Nick's hands falls from its place on Greg's back and reaches up to wipe at his face. "Come where?" His voice is rough and scratchy, his face tear-stained. Nick doesn't seem to mind.
"Griss and Cath want me to start seeing another therapist."
"Therapy?" Greg's not a big fan of therapy. He swallows. "When?"
Nick brings his other hand up to the other side of Greg's face and rests them there. "Next week." He rubs the pad of his thumbs against Greg's cheekbones, like he's seeing him for the first time in years. Recognition appears on Nick's face that Greg hasn't seen in a long time, and Greg feels a fraction of the guilt melt away. "Wednesday. If you don't want to go..."
"No, I want to go."
Nick smiles, leans forward, and presses their lips together. In a split second, Greg feels all the promises that Nick never used to keep in his kiss. "Greg…" Nick says a moment later, lips still pressed softly to Greg's. "I'm so sorry."
"Apology accepted," Greg mumbles, biting down the feeling for having to apologize back. "I'm just—glad…" He can't make the words come out; settles for closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of air through his nose. Nick's scent invades his nostrils.
"I love you."
Greg smiles, laughs softly, and kisses Nick again. "I love you too."
--
August 5, 2005
"I can't believe… wow." Greg takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Parents. Coming. Here."
Nick shrugs. "I don't see what the big deal is. You met them… You've met them before."
"Well, yeah… but back then I was just a coworker… now…" He smiles. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Nick settles next to Greg on the couch, lays a hand on his boyfriend's knee. "They'll love you. Emotions were running high in May; they were terrified. The really had no idea who you were and…" He swallows. "That was kind of a defining moment in regards to first impressions at the time."
"I know, I just—It's so weird." Greg pauses. "Did you feel like this when you met my parents?"
Nick takes a moment, then says, "I don't remember. Things were… different, then." He looks at Greg for so long, Greg starts to squirm. "I think you should invite them out again."
Greg laughs. "One insane idea at a time, please. My parents plus your parents in your small, two-bedroom house doesn't sound like too great of an idea."
Nick laughs, shakes his head. "I didn't mean at the same time."
"Oh. Right. Of course." Greg looks up to meet his gaze. "Still. Parents. This weekend." He glances at the calendar. "Ugh. That's, like. Today."
"You're back at that already, huh?"
"It's a big deal, what can I say?"
Later, when Nick's mother hugs him and his father shakes his hand with a hardly contained smirk, Greg dares to glance over at Nick, juggling his parents' luggage in his arms. Nick had insisted on doing it and demanded that Greg not help. Greg figured that the best way to handle that was by just listening to him, because the last thing either of them need is more drama – especially with Nick's parents there.
"So… the infamous Greg." Nick's mother holds Greg out at arm length, hands on his shoulders, studying him. "You seem taller than before."
"No, ma'am."
Mrs. Stokes waves the nicety away and smiles. "Oh, Greg, you don't have to call me ma'am." Greg feels his face heat up but ducks away before Mrs. Stokes calls him out on it.
-
Nick finds him later, after his parents have gone to bed, standing in Nick's kitchen with a full glass of water staring at Nick's fridge. "What's up?" Following Greg's line of vision, he catches him looking at an old photo of Greg still tacked up, small and hardly there, on the upper right corner.
"Me, obviously." Nick smiles, wraps his arms around Greg's waist. Greg loves how Nick is basically a human heater. The shivers that moments ago were pulsing through his body still with Nick's embrace.
"Why are you up?"
Greg hesitates. "Y… They're okay with this?"
Nick's muscles tense, and immediately, Greg thinks, Great, he's going to turn on me again. But Nick just says, "'Course. Should they not be?"
"I dunno. I just… I guess I thought it was weird because, y'know, you're from Texas and.. they're.. your parents and that's kind of a big deal sometimes. And because of the whole thing before, y'know, where we weren't really working out and you said they wanted to meet me one time and never spoke of it again and I thought, maybe—"
With a chuckle, Nick tucks his head against Greg's neck. "My grandparents are probably turning over in their graves, but my parents are fine. If my dad didn't like you, he wouldn't pretend that he did."
Greg scoffs, unconsciously relaxing against Nick. "Yeah, I know. You should've seen the way he was looking at me in the hospital, I swear to God I thought I was going to be lying in a morgue if I didn't get out of there soon."
Rocking back and forth, Nick hums lightly against Greg's ear. Greg shivers again, but for an entirely different reason. "Come to bed."
"Bed," Greg echoes. Nick starts pulling him towards his bedroom, closer to the deep snoring coming from Nick's father, who resides in the spare bedroom. Greg lets him lead. He climbs in beneath sheets and bedding, moaning in appreciation at the warmth from Nick's body heat and slides up against his boyfriend.
"Hey," Nick says, pushing Greg's hair back from his forehead. "I love you."
Grin widening across his face, Greg doesn't even feel ashamed at the giddiness building in his body. "I love you too."
Nick presses a soft, light kiss to his forehead and pulls him close as he whispers a goodnight.
He falls asleep with the smile still on his face.
-End-
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