Title: Sweet Cool Water
By: Caroline Crane
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: NC17
Summary: A hard night on the job and an unexpected encounter with a familiar face force Nick to re-examine some things about himself.

It was the music that kept him away from these places. Okay, the music and the fact that he didn't like to run the risk of being recognized. There were some nights, though, when the job got to be too much and there was only one way to let off enough steam to make him feel human again. Well. Two ways, really, but usually one led to the other in places like this.

Normally when they had a tough case and the whole team had pulled a double he'd just go right home and pass out the second he hit the bed, but nights like tonight were different. On nights like tonight, when there had been too much blood and too much death and he'd been reminded once too often of what humans could do to each other, he needed something else. Sleep wasn't enough to cure this kind of rolling anger, the darkness that he kept pushed down as far as he could until finally he couldn't stand it anymore. On nights like this he needed something raw and basic and totally anonymous.

There were other places he could find it; places where the music didn't pound inside his skull and make him a little dizzy, but that was the whole reason he came to the club he was standing in right now. He liked the buzz he got from the combination of sleep deprivation and techno music, because it kept him a little off center. The rest of his life was devoted to staying in control, never letting his guard down so that no one on the job would have any reason to talk about him. But on nights like this the object of the game was giving up that control; it was a free fall with no net, and there was no guarantee that anyone would be there to catch him.

He wove his way through the crowd, pushing back against the crush of bodies until he found himself at the center of the dance floor. It wasn't where he'd been aiming, but the combination of music and heat and bare skin made it hard to navigate. Besides, the dance floor was where he'd end up eventually, so it didn't really matter that he hadn't gotten a chance to survey the crowd first.

The less he knew about the faces around him the better, he told himself as he let someone pull him into the dance. He didn't even look at the person who wrapped their arms around him, didn't want to know who belonged to the hands pressed against his ass. Faces didn't matter in a place like this; that was the whole point of coming here, to lose himself in the crowd and the music and forget for awhile who he was and what he'd seen tonight. The best way to do that was out on the dance floor, even if what he was doing couldn't really be called dancing so much as letting a stranger move him in time to the music.

It was a different kind of thrill than solving a case or even anonymous sex in a bathroom stall; this was the only time he could let himself give up control, the only way he could let go of what everyone expected of him. He barely noticed when the arms that had been around him disappeared, only to be replaced by another body pressing close to him. And it didn't matter who he was dancing with, because the club was so packed that the entire dance floor moved as a single entity. He could have been dancing with all of them or completely alone; none of it mattered, as long as the music kept pounding loud enough to drive the memories out of his head.

And he could just picture the faces of the night shift if they could see him now – let out a hysterical little laugh at the thought, smiling blindly at the guy who was currently wrapped around him. He thought the guy smiled back, but it didn't matter to either of them what he was laughing at so he let the thought float away on the music. Bodies swayed in and out of his line of vision, but he never focused on them long enough to notice any distinguishing characteristics. It was surprisingly easy to turn off his natural tendency to pick up details about his surroundings, but the fact that he could let instinct go so easily just made the whole experience even better.


He let go of the person pressed up against him, smiling again when the stranger slid out of his arms and disappeared into the crowd. And then he was alone again, but he knew it wouldn't last long. He knew he was attractive, and even though he didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it he knew how to use it when he wanted something. What he wanted tonight wasn't hard for someone like him to come by; the trick was deciding who he wanted it from.

He turned and surveyed the dance floor a little more carefully this time, his gaze landing on a black cotton shirt stretched across a pair of slight shoulders. He let his eyes wander down to take in black leather pants that outlined the curve of a nice ass, stopping when he reached the tops of black boots and starting back up again. The guy was about his height; smaller in the shoulders and thinner around the waist, with dark blond hair that looked like it was either gelled way too much or soaked through with sweat. Watching the way the guy danced Nick had the feeling it was probably the latter; he moved like the music was inside him, half unfocused energy and half fluid grace.

It was mesmerizing to watch, and before Nick even realized he was moving he was halfway through the crowd, his own black button-down clinging to his sweat-damp skin as he let the crush of dancers move him closer to his target. There was something almost familiar about the way the guy moved, Nick decided, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who he reminded Nick of. It didn't really matter anyway; in fact, the less he thought about the rest of his life the better, so he pushed the thought away as he let the crowd and the music pull him into the dance again.

They were close now; so close that Nick could feel the heat and energy radiating off the other man, and he knew without question that he'd made the right choice. This was the person who could help him forget, no questions asked, and tomorrow when he woke up his world would be right side up again. That was all he wanted – all he needed, really – and he knew he'd come to the right place to find it.

Another wave of heat rolled over him as he swayed closer to all that sweet promise wrapped up in a pair of leather pants, and he reached out a hand almost unconsciously to touch the muscles he could see working under that black t-shirt. His fingers just brushed against soft cotton when the other man turned in time to the music, making it look as graceful as though he'd choreographed every move before he showed up at the club. And finally Nick looked up, his heart dropping like a lead balloon as he made eye contact for the first time all night.

The next few seconds were a blur, mainly characterized by the crowd, the music and the walls closing in on him all at once, followed quickly by a rolling wave of nausea. His first instinct was to turn and run in the other direction, but even if he tried he knew the crowd would make any kind of graceful escape impossible. Besides, it didn't matter if he ran, because Greg had recognized him and he was already giving Nick that impish grin that usually made him crazy.

"Don't tell me there's a dead body around here someplace," Greg said, leaning close enough to whisper the words in the vicinity of Nick's ear. And there wasn't a dead body yet, but Nick was pretty sure there might be any second now. Only he wouldn't be the one doing the investigating, because if anybody died on the dance floor it was going to be him. His heart was beating so fast that he was almost sure it would burst right out of his chest any second now, and even if that was a medical impossibility there was a first time for everything.

"No," he snapped, trying and failing not to notice the scent of Greg's cologne as he leaned in to answer the question. "What are you doing here, Sanders?"

"Same thing as you, I guess." Greg's smile faded abruptly, and he glanced around suspiciously before focusing on Nick again. "You're not working undercover or something, are you?"


For a second Nick considered lying. He thought about telling Greg that yes, he was undercover, and Greg should get the hell out of there before he got himself caught up in whatever went down. The only problem was that Greg would find out eventually that he'd been lying, and then Nick would be right back in the same mess. The last thing he'd ever expected when he walked into the club was to run into someone he worked with; he'd spent years carefully guarding all his secrets, and one moment of weakness had brought the biggest one out in front of the worst person possible. There was no way Greg was going to keep this quiet, even if Nick asked him to. He just wasn't capable of discretion.

"Hey, Nick. You okay?"

Until he registered the question Nick wasn't aware that he'd been staring blindly, but as soon as the sound of Greg's voice registered he shook his head and schooled his features into as menacing a scowl as he could muster. "Never better. Just forget you saw me here, okay?"

He turned without waiting for an answer; it wasn't worth sticking around to listen to Greg promise that he'd keep his mouth shut, because even if he said he would Nick knew better than to believe him. It wasn't Greg's fault, he was just the kind of guy who couldn't stand to sit on a good piece of gossip. Nick had never really cared one way or the other before, but now that Greg had something on him…his stomach dropped as he wove his way through the crowd to stop in front of the bar.

There was nothing he could do about it now, and unless he came up with an airtight excuse for what he was doing in a gay club all the way out in Baker he knew he could kiss his career goodbye. It was one thing for Greg; he was just a lab tech, and even if he was out the brass wouldn't really pay much attention to his personal life. Nick, on the other hand – he was close enough to a cop that he had to play by the rules, and it didn't matter that it was 2003 and the department was supposed to have an equal opportunity policy. He'd seen enough guys forced out of various branches of the department to know what would happen to him.

He ordered a beer and tossed a few bills on the bar, lifting the cool bottle to his mouth and taking a long swallow before he turned to look at the crowd again. All he saw, however, was another flash of black cotton and damp blond hair. Greg squeezed in next to him and gestured for the bartender, ordering a drink Nick had never heard of before he turned to look at the other man. "Listen, Nick, you don't have to worry about it."

"About what?" Nick asked before he could stop himself. He winced as soon as the question escaped his lips, mentally kicking himself for not just ignoring Greg.

"About me telling anybody you were here. I can keep a secret." Greg turned to face him, his gaze wandering from Nick's face down toward his chest. "Man, of all the people I thought I'd run into here..."


"You didn't," Nick interrupted, glancing sidelong at Greg long enough to catch the other man grinning at him. And damn if Greg didn't look sexy when he smiled like that, especially now that Nick knew he owned something besides button-downs with obnoxious color schemes. Greg Sanders in leather pants…if he could have told anybody at work they never would have believed him. This was officially turning out to be the worst night of his life.

"Right, right," Greg answered, holding up his hands defensively when Nick glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Everybody always says you're so into the ladies."

This was not happening to him. It couldn't be, because his night had already been hell and he was positive he couldn't take anymore. It was bad enough that he'd run into somebody he knew in this place, but now Greg was just standing there, being…Greg, with the smarmy tone of voice and the knowing gestures. It was more than Nick could handle, especially on twenty-four hours without sleep. "Look, Greg, no offense, but don't you have something else to do?"

"Not really." Greg shrugged and reached for his wallet as the bartender reappeared and set something blue down in front of him. He picked up the glass and turned around, leaning against the bar with his shoulder pressed against Nick's.

Nick waited for him to say something else, to try to start another pointless conversation in the hopes of getting Nick to admit why he was in the club. It wasn't like Greg to give up when he thought there was something going on that he should know about, but instead of trying to annoy Nick into talking he was calmly sipping his drink while he surveyed the crowd. Nick knew he should be grateful for the silence, but it was hard to be grateful when Greg was still standing next to him. The fact was that Nick had been attracted to him before he realized who he was, and it hadn't gone away just because Greg turned around. He could ignore it, though, because he'd learned a long time ago how to control his emotions.

"What about you?" As soon as the words escaped his lips Nick rolled his eyes at himself, but Greg didn't even glance over at him before he answered.

"What about me?"

"I mean you're always talking about girls, hitting on Sara and Catherine," Nick answered, frowning when Greg glanced over at him long enough to raise an eyebrow. "You told me once that you'd met the mother of your children. You were looking at her DNA. Greenest eyes you've ever seen, something like that."

For a second Greg looked confused, then he laughed and turned to lean into Nick's personal space. "Oh, you mean Sandra. Just because I was looking at her DNA doesn’t mean I was going out with her. I went out with her brother for awhile, but then things got kind of messy and we broke up. Too bad, they both had great genes. I bet she would have been totally into the surrogate thing, too. You know, in case I ever decide I want kids."


The entire time he was talking Nick stared at him like he'd never seen him before. He was starting to wonder if he had, because he could have sworn that Greg had come on to Sara and Catherine and pretty much every female who worked in the lab. Then again, Greg flirted with everybody, including Nick, so maybe he should have seen this coming. He was too out of practice with stuff like this to be able to tell when someone was flirting with him or just joking around, and it usually got him in trouble. "Whatever. Just…"

"Yeah, I know. I never saw you here. Look, I get the whole 'don't ask, don't tell' thing at work, okay? I'm not gonna out you to Grissom or anybody else. But since you're here and I'm here, you know…we could dance or something." Greg flashed a hopeful grin, and Nick found himself actually getting caught up in the other man's smile for a second before he remembered who he was talking to.

"Look, Greg, no offense, but I don't think that's such a good idea." He tipped his beer back and drained the bottle in one long pull, setting the empty bottle down on the counter and shaking his head. Instantly the room spun a little, and he realized too late how long it had been since he'd had any food. He felt the bar start to slide out from under him, but before he hit the floor an arm slid around his waist and pulled him upright.

"Jesus, are you sure you're okay?" Greg asked, his hand lingering on Nick's back and warming the other man's skin through his shirt.

Nick nodded, but the motion made the room spin a little more so he closed his eyes tight against the sensation. "It's just been a really long night."

"You wanna talk about it?"

He managed to shake his head without tipping over again, but it took a lot more effort than it should have. Every time Greg asked if he was okay the question brought with it a flood of images he'd been trying to forget all night; he found himself checking his hands self-consciously, reassuring himself for the thousandth time that night that they weren't covered in blood.

"Okay, you don't wanna talk and you don't wanna dance." Greg paused and Nick stole a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling a little in spite of himself at the other man's thoughtful expression. "Wanna go to my place?"


Nick's grin faded as abruptly as it surfaced; he felt his knees waver a little, but he had a feeling this time it didn't have anything to do with the beer. He opened his mouth to say no, to tell Greg that that was definitely a bad idea. For one thing, he didn't go home with guys he met in this place. The whole point was that it was random and anonymous and over fast enough that he could tell himself it was just one of those things. It never meant anything; he didn't give it a chance to, but this time…this time it was somebody he knew, and no matter what happened he was going to have to look at Greg at work the next day.

But he couldn't stop the flood of memories from the case he'd spent the past day working, and even though they knew each other Nick had a feeling Greg wouldn't be asking any more questions he didn't want to answer. Still, going home with someone he worked with – especially someone like Greg – was out of the question. They both knew it, so he knew he didn't even have to answer. He started to shake his head anyway, but before he even got that far Greg was suddenly closer to him, one hand on Nick's shoulder.

"Before you say no," Greg said, his voice so low that Nick had to sway closer to hear it. Somehow without even meaning to his mouth found Greg's, and just like that they were kissing. Later he wouldn't be able to work out whether Greg had kissed him or he'd kissed Greg, but for now it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the softness of Greg's mouth against his, directly juxtaposed to the tangible energy that was as much a part of Greg as his genius. He felt a sob catch in his throat but he pushed it down brutally, unwilling to give in to all the emotions he'd been battling back since he walked onto the crime scene twenty-four hours ago.

When Greg finally pulled away again Nick was gasping for air, his brain addled from a million different thoughts. He chose to ignore every single one of them, staring blankly at the other man as Greg grinned at him and pushed himself off the bar. "We can take my car," Greg said, nodding in the direction of the door. "You don't look like you're in such great shape for driving and I don't really think you want Grissom coming out here to scrape you off the pavement."

Nick tried to get his brain to work with him long enough to argue; he couldn't just leave his car out in the middle of nowhere, not when he had to be back at work tomorrow night. Greg was right about one thing, though; driving was beyond him right now. In fact, just walking to the door posed more of a challenge than he wanted to admit, and when they finally found themselves outside the club he stopped and breathed in as much fresh air as he could. When he was sure he could move without losing it he looked up again, his stomach clenching when he found Greg watching him. Now that his head was clear he knew he had to put a stop to this before it went any further; a kiss was one thing, but he couldn't sleep with somebody he worked with. No matter how good the kiss was.

Evidently Greg could tell what he was thinking, though, because before Nick could say any of it out loud the other man took a few steps forward and closed his hand around the front of Nick's shirt. When he leaned forward Nick turned instinctively to meet him, but instead of kissing him again Greg opened his mouth against Nick's neck and licked a hot stripe from his collarbone to his earlobe. Nick's whole body shuddered at the contact, and before he knew what he was doing his hands were on Greg, exploring all the sinewy muscle encased in cotton and leather.

He knew if they kept this up they'd never make it back to Greg's place, or even as far as his car, but Greg was way ahead of him on that score too. Just when Nick thought he couldn't stand anymore Greg straightened up, flashing the grin Nick knew so well and nodding in the direction of the parking lot. "Your chariot awaits."

Nick couldn't help grinning at that, but his heart was still pounding hard against his ribcage as Greg led him to a yellow Jeep Wrangler and unlocked the passenger door. He climbed in and leaned back against the worn leather upholstery, running his hand unconsciously along the seat. It was softer than the leather covering Greg's hips; Nick had touched him long enough to know that, but his fingers itched for more than just a few quick gropes in the parking lot. And he knew he was going to regret this as soon as it was over, but for now he didn't care about anything except the fact that when Greg was kissing him he didn't have to think about his job or dead bodies or the secrets he kept so carefully hidden.

The drive to Greg's place took forever; it was over way too soon, because when they pulled into the parking lot Nick knew he was going to have to make a decision. All the way back from the desert he'd been trying to tell himself he wasn't going to go through with this, that he was going to tell Greg they were making a mistake and get him to drop Nick off at home. He'd take a cab out to Baker to get his truck if he had to; it didn't matter, as long as he didn't go through with what they'd started.


So he was surprised to find himself climbing out of the Jeep when Greg turned it off, and even more surprised when he found himself in Greg's living room with his coworker – his friend – pressed up against the door. And he could count the number of places where their bodies touched, calculate the temperature of Greg's breath against his neck, even describe the color of the other man's eyes. He was hyper-aware of every single detail of the person pressed up against him, from his red lips to the way his hands felt as they worked open the buttons of Nick's shirt.

When he felt his shirt sliding off his shoulders Nick knew it was too late to go back, no matter how many alarms were going off in his head. He ignored every one of them and lunged forward, catching Greg's mouth against his in a hard, desperate kiss. His fingers bunched the fabric of Greg's shirt at his waist, and he knew if he tugged any harder he'd tear right through the fabric. Even that was out of his control, though, because he couldn't let go even if Greg asked him to. He wasn't sure he could ever stop kissing Greg either, because as soon as they stopped it meant he had to think about what he'd done.

But Greg seemed determined not to let him think; in fact, he seemed hell-bent on keeping Nick as distracted as possible, starting with the way his tongue was mapping Nick's mouth and ending with the way his hips were moving against Nick's. He was doing this hypnotic little rotation, grinding against Nick's groin until he was moaning against Greg's mouth. And suddenly he was aware of how many clothes they were still wearing and how embarrassingly close this was to being finished before it even started, something that he couldn't let happen. There was no way he was going to have bad sex with Greg Sanders, not after everything he'd risked to be here tonight.

He pulled himself together with some effort, tearing his mouth away from Greg's to pant against his neck. When he was sure he wasn't going to come on the first touch he took a step backwards, loosening his grip on the other man's shirt just enough to ease it over his head. Greg lifted his arms obediently, gracing Nick with a smile that did things to his stomach he was not going to think about. Instead he turned his attention to Greg's leather pants, pausing to run his hands over the slick material before he reached for the zippers that ran along either side of Greg's crotch.

Leather pants weren't exactly his style, but with a little direction from Greg he found the hidden closure and got them open, letting out a hissed breath through his teeth as he slid the impossibly tight fabric over slender hips. And he didn't think watching Greg shimmy out of his own clothes could possibly be sexy, but even Greg's unbridled energy turned him on. He wasn't even sure when the other man managed to get his boots off, but the next thing he knew Greg was standing in front of him completely naked.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him that they should really take this to the bedroom, or at the very least somewhere that wasn't up against Greg's front door. He'd declared a moratorium on listening to the voices in his head earlier that night, though, so instead of asking Greg where the bedroom was he dropped to his knees in front of the other man. This was something he could understand; heat and skin and fingers digging into his shoulders, breathy moans and Greg's voice saying his name over and over again. And he wasn't used to hearing his own name while he was going down on another guy, but he had to admit that a small part of him sort of enjoyed it.

He took his time learning the weight of Greg against his tongue, seeking out all the spots that made him clasp Nick's shoulders just a little harder in an effort to keep his legs from giving out on him. It was just like seeking evidence at a crime scene; he catalogued every sound that Greg made, memorizing the most sensitive spots for future reference and keeping track of how close he could bring the other man to the edge before he backed off completely. It was a game, and the object was to torture Greg until he was begging for Nick to let him come. And then there it was, the breathy, barely coherent pleasegoddon'tstop that let Nick know that Greg had finally, finally had enough.


He swallowed once, twice around Greg's length, his fingers digging into Greg's hips hard enough to bruise when the other man arched off the doorway and came with a full body shudder.

Slowly Nick stood up, his own cock straining against his jeans as he took in the sight of Greg Sanders spent and panting against his own front door. He didn't want to be even more turned on by that sight, but he couldn't deny that part of him was glad it was Greg he'd run into tonight. There was the obvious fact that he'd always found Greg attractive, yes, but tonight it was about more than just attraction. Tonight he didn't want to have time to think, and Greg's energy was exactly what he needed to keep his mind off any unsettling thoughts for as long as it took to work them out of his system.

As soon as Greg opened his eyes Nick raised one eyebrow, but evidently Greg understood the question without having to hear it. "Down the hall. First door on the left," Greg murmured as he took a step forward, pushing Nick's hands out of the way so he could tug open his jeans and start working them down his hips. Together they managed somehow to wrestle Nick's jeans and boxers off without falling over, and as soon as Nick stepped out of them he was being hauled forward for another hard kiss. Nick parted his lips, letting Greg taste himself on his tongue as they backed toward what he assumed was the bedroom.

He found out he was right when his calves collided with Greg's mattress, and he stopped and tore his mouth away from the other man's to ask him another silent question. For a second Greg looked like he was considering his answer, then he looked Nick up and down again and let go of him long enough to dig in his nightstand for a tube of lube. Nick took the condom Greg held out to him, his brain clouding over again as he watched his friend stretch out on the mattress next to him. He didn't want to hear the sound of his own voice right now, but he wasn't far enough gone to risk hurting Greg, either, so he ran a hand down the other man's back and leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. "How do you want to do this?"

"Just do it," Greg answered, twisting his head far enough to plant another hard kiss on Nick's mouth. "However you want. I can take it."

Nick wasn't altogether sure Greg knew what he was getting himself into, but he was still in control enough to keep himself from hurting the other man. He took his time rolling the condom on and running a lube-slicked hand over the latex, squeezing the base of his cock until the worst of the need ebbed away. When he was sure he wasn't going to come on the first stroke he knelt between Greg's legs and grasped his hips, pulling him up onto his knees. And this was a sight he never let himself imagine he'd actually experience, but he couldn't say he was sorry. Greg was everything Nick had ever thought he'd be, at least the few times when he'd let his imagination run away with him.

Even like this Greg's energy threatened to carry him away, from the pulsing heat when Nick first slid inside him to the enthusiasm with which he met every stroke. By the time Nick lost control he knew he'd left two perfect hand-shaped bruises on Greg's hips, but he even liked the idea of leaving a mark on all that pale, perfect skin. When he did this with strangers he was always careful not to leave any visible evidence; maybe that was the CSI in him, or maybe it was just that he didn't even want the reminder to exist in his memory. Tonight he wanted that, though – wanted it enough to be a little scared of the thought, but it was too late to take it back now.

And even with Nick's death grip on his hips Greg was twisting and thrusting back against him, trying to get just a little more, a little deeper than Nick even knew was possible. Way too soon he was tensing against the other man, coming with a soundless cry and a shudder that wracked both their bodies.


For a full thirty seconds Nick felt more amazing than he ever had in his life – he pulled out of Greg and collapsed onto his back, eyes wide as he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling and wondered if this was what people meant by 'mountaintop experiences'. And it wasn't so much that the sex was that special, but for those few brief moments his mind was completely and blessedly blank. He felt like he could do anything, like the slate had been wiped clean and he could get up from Greg's bed and remake his entire life if he wanted to.

Like all amazing feelings it didn't last, though, and as soon as he remembered where he was and what he'd just done reality came crashing back down on him. His lungs felt tight and his throat closed up, and he knew he was probably gasping like he'd just swallowed half the desert but he couldn't make himself stop. He wanted to get up and run far and fast away from what was probably going to turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life, but he knew running wouldn't do him any good. Besides, his car was still somewhere in Baker, and he wasn't going to get far without it.

"Hey." Oddly enough, the sound of Greg's voice calmed Nick enough to quell the panic that had begun to rise in his throat. He glanced over at the other man to find Greg propped up on one elbow, watching him with a rare serious expression. "You know, if you wanna talk about whatever's got you so worked up, I can be a pretty good listener."

Nick must have looked skeptical, because Greg laughed and rolled his eyes. "Forget what you've seen of me at work. That place can make anybody crazy. Sometimes you gotta break up the tension, you know? But if you wanna talk…"

"Forget it," Nick said, surprised to hear that his voice sounded almost normal. "Just a rough shift, that's all."

Greg nodded but didn't answer, and for once Nick was grateful for the silence. He knew he should get up and get dressed, insist that Greg drive him back to his car so he could go home and get a few hours' sleep before his next shift, but the thought of getting out of bed even to dispose of the condom was too much. As soon as he thought it he felt Greg's hand on his stomach, and he couldn't help wondering if the other man was some kind of mind reader when Greg carefully rolled the condom off and stood up. He listened to the sound of Greg's footsteps as they disappeared out of the room, telling himself that he'd thank him when he got back, but by the time Greg washed up and found his way back to the bed Nick was already asleep.

Waking up had always been overrated, and even though he was used to graveyards by now Nick still had a hard time getting out of bed in the afternoon. It sounded weird when he thought the words; most people had trouble getting up in the morning, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd fallen into the category of 'most people'. He'd always considered himself a night person, so the schedule should appeal to his body's internal clock. Only he was starting to think it wasn't natural for humans to stay up all night and sleep all day, because he couldn't remember the last time he woke up feeling rested.

Today wasn't any better; worse, actually, because when he woke up he remembered every single detail of what had happened the night before. He wished he was hung over, wished he'd gotten drunk in the first place, because at least if he had a pounding headache and a mouth full of cotton he wouldn't remember all the gory details. But the point was that he did – he even remembered where he was, why the sheets felt different against his skin than usual and why the air didn't smell the same as the air in his own place.


All that detail without even opening his eyes, and he was good at his job for a reason. Better than Grissom ever gave him credit for, but Nick had a feeling that was because he got off on playing the father figure, on doling out praise and affection in small, controllable doses. Now wasn’t really the time to be psychoanalyzing his boss, though, because the fact was that he was still face down in Greg's bed.

Greg, who had soft lips and that amazing smile and a sweeter ass than Nick ever would have given him credit for. His dick twitched at the thought and he let out an involuntary groan, willing himself not to want what he couldn't ever have again. It had been a mistake from the start, and just as he'd predicted, he regretted everything about it. He had to regret it, because if he didn't he might make the same mistake again.

"Nick." The familiar voice cut into his train of thought, and he winced and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Still, he couldn't deny that the hand on his bare shoulder felt good, even though Greg was shaking him. "Nick, you awake? You're on tonight, aren't you?"

And he'd managed to forget about work for a whole thirty seconds, but as soon as Greg mentioned it the dread came rushing right back. He didn't want to move, didn't want to open his eyes even, because as soon as he did he was going to have to get up and face the consequences of a single moment of stupidity. What he really wanted to do was tell Greg to stop touching him, because his hand was moving in little circles now and it was more than just distracting. It made Nick want things he shouldn't be thinking about, not in the light of day when his career was on the line.

"Nick?"

"Yeah," he finally answered, his instincts reacting to the hint of panic in Greg's voice. "Yeah, I'm on tonight." He shifted out from under Greg's hand without actually looking at the other man, forcing his eyes open only to close them against the sudden brightness of afternoon sun in the desert. "What time is it?"

"Pretty late, Sleeping Beauty. Did you wear these same clothes to work yesterday?"

The easy banter was back in Greg's voice now, and even though he knew it should have made him feel better the familiarity set Nick's nerves on edge. There was no reason for it to; they were friends, and Greg wasn't acting any different than he ever did at work when they were talking about video games or sports or girls. Only some of that had turned out to be an act, and now Nick wasn't sure what he knew about Greg. "No," he said, frowning as he glanced at the clothes Greg had picked up and set on the end of the bed. "No, I changed before…"

"Before you went out looking for some action," Greg finished when he trailed off, and he couldn't help himself; he had to look. He just wanted to see that smile, just to see if the sight of it would make him feel as sick to his stomach as the sound did. He turned over slowly, careful not to come into contact with any part of Greg's body, afraid that maybe he wasn't over his temporary bout of insanity. And when he looked up Greg was smiling, but it was a little unsure around the edges and suddenly Nick felt sick and guilty.


"Look, Sanders…"

Greg stood up abruptly at the sound of his voice, clearing his throat and looking at the clock, out the window, the door that Nick assumed led to the bathroom – anywhere but at Nick. "Good, then you have time to take a quick shower and nobody'll have to know you're recycling your clubbing clothes. You can borrow my toothbrush. And I think the towel in there is pretty clean."

Nick opened his mouth to stop the stream of words, maybe to argue that they should just go get his car now so he'd have time to go home and clean up. Then he glanced at the clock and realized just how late it was, all the color draining from his face when he calculated how long he'd been asleep in somebody else's bed. He settled for a mumbled 'thanks' and threw the sheets back, telling himself he wasn't self-conscious about walking around Greg's apartment naked.

"If you hurry we should have just enough time to get you back to your car and get to work on time."

He nodded without looking over his shoulder to see if Greg was watching him; things between them were going to be awkward enough now without adding a whole bunch of unnecessary glances to the mix. The last thing he needed was for Greg to start acting weird around him, but there would be plenty of time to lay out the ground rules for the change in their friendship on the way out to Baker.

A hangover would definitely be better than this, Nick decided as he turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. Anything would be better than the nagging guilt churning in his stomach every time he pictured Greg's face. He always paid a price for nights like last night, but if he couldn't remember the other guy's face it was easier to shake it off and put it behind him. This time, though…this was so much bigger than he'd even realized last night, because this wasn't some faceless guy. This was somebody he actually liked, someone he spent time with whether he wanted to or not.

There was no walking away from this one clean, because no matter how he handled it the damage was already done. Even if Greg did keep his mouth shut about it there was no way they were going to forget it; there was no way Nick was going to be able to look at Greg without remembering how he kissed or what he tasted like or the way he felt pressed up against Nick in the dark. And it wasn't bad enough that they'd had sex – no, Nick could definitely remember something an awful lot like cuddling during the few times he'd woken up enough to be aware of his surroundings. Not that it really surprised him that Greg was a cuddler, but he sure as hell wasn't, so there had to be some other explanation for last night.

It didn't really help that thinking about it was making him hard again, especially when they didn't have time to...but he wasn't going there, because it was not happening again. He wasn't about to jerk off in Greg's shower, either, so he turned the water to cold, gritted his teeth, and told himself he deserved it. It would wake him up, anyway, and maybe once that finally happened he'd come to his senses again.


He liked Greg; that was the important thing, the thing he didn't want to screw up. Greg was a nice guy and a brilliant scientist, and Nick didn't want to have to take his evidence to other techs to get it processed. He didn't want to have to worry about the day that Gil actually gave in and put Greg in the field, because chances were they'd end up working together. In the past Nick had always secretly thought that might be kind of fun, but now…now he'd fucked that up too, all because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants like a normal person.

He didn't stay in the shower as long as he wanted to, because he knew if he took too long Greg would come looking for him. He'd probably make some lame joke about Nick drowning himself or chipping in for the water bill or something, and as much as the thought made Nick smile he couldn't stand to see Greg looking at him again. If it was anybody else maybe this wouldn't be so hard, but Greg had those big, vulnerable eyes and he didn't even try to hide anything he was feeling. He was easier to read than any evidence Nick had run across, and looking at Greg right now was just going to make the guilt worse.

Once he was sure he'd washed the scents of sex and Greg off him he turned off the water, drying himself off quickly before he wrapped the towel around his waist. And he should have remembered to bring his clothes into the bathroom so he wouldn't have to get dressed with Greg watching him, but he'd been in such a hurry to get out of there that he hadn't even thought of it. He shook his head at himself and glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, taking a deep breath before he reached for Greg's toothbrush. It was funny that he felt so weird about brushing his teeth with someone else's toothbrush, especially considering he'd already had Greg's dick in his mouth. That thought was getting him nowhere fast, though, so he shook it off and did his best to ignore the mental image it evoked.

A little Crest and a few recitations of the Miranda rights later and he had his brain back under control; not quite as minty fresh as his breath, but at least he wasn't picturing sucking Greg off in the lab anymore. He filed that thought away under 'never think of again', because he'd learned a long time ago that fantasies were dangerous. It had taken him four years in a frat house and three years on the Dallas P.D. to finally get it through his thick skull, but it had finally sunk in. So he was going to leave all that in his past, just like he was going to put last night behind him and find a way to erase it from his memory.

He squared his shoulders and pulled the bathroom door open, bracing himself for another round of awkward small talk. When he stepped into the bedroom it was empty, though, so he let out the breath he'd been holding and pulled his clothes back on as quickly as possible. He could smell smoke and traces of someone else's cologne on his shirt, but he ignored it and told himself he'd change once he got to work. There was always an extra shirt in his locker in case of really messy crime scenes, so he just had to get through the next hour and he'd be home free.

The key was to set things straight between them as quickly as possible, make sure there weren't any loose ends that could trip either of them up later. It was as much for Greg as it was for him, after all; it wouldn't do either of them any good if anybody at work found out about this, especially if the day shift go a hold of it and started bitching about fraternizing.

He found Greg in the living room watching the news, his stomach clenching all over again when he saw what the top story of the evening still was. As soon as he heard Nick walk in Greg turned off the TV and stood up, and Nick didn't have to look at him to know what he was thinking.

"You worked that triple homicide, didn't you?"

He was pretty sure Greg was trying to keep his voice neutral, but he heard the accusation around the edges anyway. "Yeah. So?"


"So that's why you were so freaked out last night, right? Is that what you didn't want to talk about?"

Nick frowned and turned away from Greg, rechecking his pockets needlessly to make sure his wallet and keys were still where they were supposed to be. "I told you, it was just a rough night. It's not like we don't see that stuff all the time."

"Yeah, but…"

"Drop it, okay?" And he didn't mean that to sound as harsh as it did, but he couldn't afford to take it back. Not when Greg was giving him the eyes again, like Nick had just smacked him instead of biting his head off. "I told you, it wasn't a big deal."

"Fine. Whatever."

He turned back in time to see Greg's shoulders stiffen, and he had to stop himself from reaching out to apologize with his hands instead of his words. He'd never been great with words; in the box, yeah, but interrogating suspects was totally different from this. If Greg had information Nick needed he'd know what to do, what to say to finesse the right answers out of him. He could charm just about anybody, all he had to do was figure out their weakness and play to it. But this wasn't a case, and Greg didn't have anything Nick needed to know. He was just a guy who was probably trying to help, but help was the last thing Nick wanted.

Greg picked up his keys and pulled open the apartment door, glancing back once to make sure Nick had actually followed him before he headed for his Jeep. In the late afternoon light Nick could see that it was a few years old, probably bought second-hand and patched back together. He thought of his own truck and wondered exactly how little Greg made being a lab rat, but as soon as he realized what he was doing he clamped down on the thought until it was dead. Greg's bank account was his own business, and the less personal Nick made things the easier this would be. They were friends, sure, but they didn't hang out together after work. Well, they never had before last night, anyway, and now they could never even go for a beer together.

That would be too much like asking Greg out on a date. It was different with Warrick or any of the other guys at work; he could go for beers or breakfast with any of them, because he hadn't fucked any of them. This thing with Greg was his fault and he knew he had to make it right, but he also knew it could never go back to the way it had been.


He waited until they were well out of Vegas before he turned to look at the other man, noting Greg's grip on the steering wheel and the way he was chewing his lower lip. Part of him wanted to reach over and ease that lip out from under Greg's teeth, run his thumb across Greg's lip and forget every single promise he'd made to himself in the last hour. That meant throwing away everything he'd ever worked for, though, and it just wasn't worth it. It had just been one night, and no matter how good the sex was he couldn't compare it to his career.

"Look, Greg," he began, turning to stare out the windshield at the desert, "last night I was…the thing is…"

"You don't have to give me the speech," Greg interrupted, and for once Nick was actually grateful that someone had cut him off mid-stammer. He glanced over to find Greg watching him, but as soon as their eyes locked Greg turned to look out at the road again. "I know it was a one-time thing, I knew that when I asked you if you wanted to come home with me. It's not like I was expecting you to wanna drive to the Little White Chapel or anything."

He paused and glanced over at Nick again, flashing him a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. It looked so unnatural on him that Nick's breath caught in his throat, and he was glad the wind was rattling the soft top of the Jeep enough that Greg didn't hear him gasp. "Besides, guys can't get married in Vegas, even if the King himself performs the ceremony."

Nick knew he was trying to lighten the mood, let them both off the hook with a little corny Vegas humor. He knew he shouldn't take the out, that if he was a stand-up guy he'd make Greg tell him the truth. Only he didn't want to hear the truth; all he wanted was for everything to go back to the way it had been 48 hours ago. "So we're cool."

"As ice," Greg answered without missing a beat. He pulled into the parking lot where Nick's truck was still parked, looking conspicuous now that it wasn't surrounded by a hundred other cars. Greg stopped next to the truck, stealing a quick glance at Nick as he swung the door of the Jeep open. "For the record, I can do the whole 'last night never happened' thing. Won't be the first time."

Nick glanced back at him, choking back the question that immediately formed. He was dying to know if Greg was referring to somebody else on the job, but he couldn't ask that. He didn't have a right to, not when he was asking Greg to keep his mouth shut and forget they'd ever run into each other. "Right. Thanks for the lift," he finally said, stepping out of the Jeep and turning to close the door behind him.

"No problem," Greg answered, but he didn't quite meet Nick's gaze. As soon as the passenger door slammed shut he pulled away, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. For a long moment Nick stood in place and watched the Jeep tear out of the deserted parking lot, but when he realized what he was doing he shook his head at himself and dug in his pocket for his keys. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a morning after that was quite that awkward, but then he wasn't in the habit of sleeping with people he knew all that well. His stomach turned again at the thought, so he shook it off and followed Greg's trail back onto the road.

With the help of the Pledge of Allegiance and ear-splitting heavy metal he managed to keep his mind blank the whole way back to the city, and by the time he pulled into the parking lot outside the crime lab he was feeling a little better. If he tried hard enough he could make last night seem like a distant memory, and he knew as soon as he got his assignment for the night that he wouldn't think about it at all. As long as he didn't let himself remember the smile on Greg's face when Nick first woke up or the way he'd looked when he dropped Nick off at his car he'd be okay, and if he played his cards right he could get through the entire shift without seeing Greg at all.


He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods of good timing when he found the locker room empty, unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as possible before he reached into his locker to pull out the spare he kept there. He eased the black cotton button-down off his shoulders and picked it up, the scent of cologne floating up to him again. A memory of how that scent got there caught him off guard and he balled the shirt up, his fingers closing tight around the fabric as he turned toward the trash. He got as far as holding it over the garbage can before he stopped himself and slowly loosened his stranglehold on the fabric, checking to make sure nobody was watching him before he lifted the collar to his face and breathed in.

He knew he should throw it away; for his own sanity he should just toss it in the garbage and never think about it again, but his senses were flooded with Greg's cologne and the memory of a warm mouth moving against his, and before he knew what he was doing he was stuffing the shirt in the back of his locker. Slowly he pulled his other shirt on, taking his time fastening the buttons before he looked at his locker again. He just didn't want anyone to see the shirt in the garbage and wonder what it was doing there, he told himself, nodding in silent agreement with that logic as he tucked the clean shirt in and slipped his I.D. over his head. It wasn't like he was going to keep it; he'd just wait until he could throw it away somewhere where no one would find it.

Nick wasn't thinking about anything. His mind was a complete blank, and he was going to keep it that way for as long as humanly possible. He wasn't thinking about difficult cases or Greg or sweaty, dark nightclubs where he should have been safe from running into anyone he knew. He wasn't going to think about his own weakness and how it had gotten him in trouble, not as long as he didn't have to. All he was going to think about tonight was the case Grissom had assigned him, and even though he knew Grissom had given him the biggest no-brainer of the night he wasn't going to complain for once. It was better this way, in fact, because then he didn't even have to think about his case.

He could just go through the motions, bag and tag what little evidence there was and take it back to the lab. When he got there he'd find some lab tech who wasn't Greg to process it for him, and then he wouldn't have to worry about any unwelcome thoughts intruding on his carefully honed blankness. It was a trick he'd taught himself way back in high school, because hormones and a sudden, troubling interest in boys didn't mix well with the Dallas public school system. He perfected the technique in college, when he found it just a little more challenging than he'd expected to make it through hazing and then life in a frat house. And he'd never believed all those movies that made frats look homoerotic until he was actually in one – or maybe that was the reason he'd finally decided to pledge, not that he'd ever admit that to himself or anybody else.


The point was that it turned out to be torture; keeping his eyes to himself was one thing, but putting on the right show with various girls was even harder. The guys spent a lot of time teasing him about the revolving door on his room, but the truth was that he just didn't like to take the same girl out too many times. Girls were harder to fool than guys sometimes, and if you didn't try hard enough to get in a sorority girl's pants she started asking all the wrong questions.

At the time he'd thought of it as doing his time; kind of like a jail sentence, which was painfully ironic when he stopped to think about it. He didn't really feel that bad for the girls – they got what they were after, and they all knew enough about him to know they weren't going to get a commitment. Maybe a few of them hoped they'd be the one to finally cure him of his wandering eye, but in the end they always chalked it up to his fear of commitment and moved on to the next potential husband. It was a game they all played, so he didn't have to feel guilty about it. Once he got out of college it was a little different, but his reputation seemed to follow him and he wasn't above using it to get himself out of any potentially uncomfortable situations with the women in his life.

His current situation, though…that was a different problem entirely, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He was pretty sure that if he just ignored it Greg wouldn't make a big thing about it, but the fact was that they still had to work together and Nick couldn't avoid him forever. He wanted to; well, part of him wanted to, anyway, but Greg was the best tech they had and Nick knew that avoiding him would only hurt his cases. Not avoiding him could hurt Nick's career just as much, though, and that was exactly the reason why he wasn't thinking about Greg at all.

The whole situation was too messy, and the memory of why he'd ended up at Greg's place was still too raw. He needed time to sort it out, time to let the details of the case fade a little. He was pretty sure the memory of Greg's mouth on his skin wasn't going to fade, possibly not ever, but if he gave it a little time maybe he'd stop wanting it so much. And maybe Grissom would give him a month's paid leave and start letting him work DBs by himself, he thought as he straightened up and tucked the last evidence bag into his kit. He was nothing if not realistic, after all, and he knew himself well enough to know that forgetting last night was going to be next to impossible.

Maybe if he hadn't already been attracted to Greg it wouldn't be so hard to let it go, but the truth was that Nick had thought about it before the opportunity finally presented itself. He'd let Greg flirt with him before, and he'd even flirted back a few times. Okay, more than a few times, but he'd never expected it to go anywhere. Greg flirted with everybody, after all, and Nick had never even suspected that he was into guys. Which either meant that Greg was really good at playing it straight, so to speak, or Nick was losing his touch.

That thought made him laugh; a low, bitter sound in the back of his throat, and he was glad that there was no one around to hear him. For once Grissom hadn't sent Sarah along with him to talk non-stop about the evidence; there was no Warrick to set Nick on the defensive, and no Catherine to give him weird looks until he started to think she could read his mind. So he didn't even mind working a routine robbery, because even though dusting for prints was rookie work, it meant he was alone.

It also meant he could hand off his evidence to some lab assistant without feeling guilty about it; right now the only thing he really cared about was avoiding anything that would force him to think, and having to deal with Greg was definitely going to make him think. By the time he got back to the lab he was so focused on not thinking that he barely heard his own voice as he handed off his evidence, and he had no idea whether or not the tech on duty had asked him any questions. All he remembered was nodding and looking around to make sure the coast was clear before he headed down to the break room, intent on a cup of coffee and a few minutes of silence before he found Grissom and reported on the progress of his case.


He got exactly thirty-two seconds of silence before the break room door swung open, and his heart sank when he glanced up and found himself face to face with Greg. He stopped just short of rolling his eyes, because he couldn't actually accuse Greg of stalking him and there really wasn't any other explanation for why he'd be so annoyed at Greg for walking into a public room.

"Hey," Greg said, holding his gaze for just a second longer than strictly necessary before he turned away from Nick and headed for the fridge. "Haven't seen you tonight. You still working that case from yesterday?"

"No," Nick answered, managing not to wince at the mention of the case he hadn't been willing to talk about the night before. "Robbery at a liquor store; about a thousand prints and a couple fiber samples that could have come off anybody."

Greg nodded without looking at him, and Nick found himself watching the movement of the other man's throat as he twisted the top off a soda and took a long swallow. When he felt his own throat move convulsively he shook his head and scowled down at his coffee, the sight of the bitter liquid suddenly making his stomach pitch. This was exactly what he'd spent the first few hours of his shift avoiding. He should have known better than to hang around in the break room; short of heading right for his lab, this was the most likely place to run into Greg.

"Yeah, well, I better go find Grissom," he muttered, tossing his cup in the trash before he pushed himself off the counter.

"Well you're not gonna find him here. He's down at the precinct house with Brass," Greg called after him. "They brought in a suspect on your triple homicide."

As soon as Greg's words sank in Nick forgot to be uncomfortable around him. He forgot all about the reasons he'd spent the first half of their shift avoiding the other man, and he stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at Greg. "When?"

"Grissom took off about an hour ago," Greg answered, the same look in his eyes that Nick had seen just a few hours ago when they were still in his apartment. And it seemed like a lifetime ago that Greg had looked up from the news and fixed Nick with that expression that was a mixture of pity and understanding, but hardly any time at all had passed. "Look, Stokes…"

"If anybody's looking for me tell them I'm at the station," Nick interrupted, turning his back on Greg and his pity. He barely noticed his surroundings on the way out of the crime lab, and by the time he pulled into the precinct house parking lot his knuckles were so white from gripping the steering wheel that he had to concentrate just to loosen his grip.


He'd been a cop for long enough to know how to push all his emotions to the back of his mind and focus on the job. He'd spent more time in the box than anybody else in the crime lab, and he knew how to get information out of suspects. The fact that Grissom hadn't paged him when they brought in a suspect didn't really surprise him, but it hurt in a way he hadn't expected. Only nobody knew why this case was so personal for him, and there was no way anybody was going to find out. Not if he could help it, and as long as Greg kept his mouth shut there wouldn't be a problem.

He took a deep breath before he got out of his truck, pulling himself together so he wouldn't lose it the second he walked into the station. For all he knew the suspect they'd brought in would turn out to be a dead end; they hardly had any evidence to go on even after twenty-four hours of working over every inch of the crime scene. He'd been the last one to give up, and even when Grissom ordered him to go home and get some rest he'd had a hard time dragging himself away. It was how he'd ended up at the club in the middle of nowhere when he should have been fast asleep, and it was the reason he'd been weak enough to let Greg take him home without even putting up a fight.

None of that mattered when he slipped into the small observation area behind the interrogation room, nodding absently at the officer on duty before he turned his attention to Grissom, Brass and the suspect slouched in a chair directly across from him. He wasn't sure how long he stood there listening to the interview, his fingers flexing and relaxing against his forearms as he fought the urge to rush into the room and pull the guy out of his chair.

Any time there had been a need for the good cop/bad cop routine while he was still on the force he'd always played the good cop; he figured it was his smile, or the way he could read people quickly enough to figure out the best way to soften them up. Right now, though, he didn't have any interest in making the guy feel safe enough to let something slip. All he really wanted to do was go in there and pound some information out of him.

The thing was that the guy looked…well, normal. He definitely didn't look like the type of whack job to do what somebody had done to those three kids last night, and even though Nick knew they were looking for more than one killer he was having a hard time believing this guy was one of them. Maybe he knew something, and Nick wouldn't have had a problem beating a few names out of him, but he had a feeling this wasn't the guy they were looking for. Still, he was the only lead they had right now, so when Brass stood up and signaled for the officer to come take the guy away it was all Nick could do to hold himself back.

He managed to wait until Grissom came out of the interrogation room before he started asking questions, ignoring the surprised look on Grissom's face when the older man realized he'd been watching the questioning. "You're not letting him go, are you?" Nick asked, glancing from Grissom to Brass and back again.

"Nick, what are you doing here?"

"Sanders told me you brought somebody in," Nick answered.


Grissom frowned momentarily before he started toward the door that would lead them out of the precinct house. "I gave you a case, Nick. You should be working it."

"Come on, Gris, it was a simple fingerprint job. The evidence is already being processed. Besides, I worked this case too; we all did. Let me talk to the guy. Maybe I can get something else out of him."

"There's nothing to hold him on. He was spotted in the area last night so Brass brought him in, but he didn't see anything."

Nick knew it was true; he'd seen part of the interview, and even from the opposite side of the glass he'd been able to tell the guy wasn't involved. Still, it the only lead they had, and the longer he spent away from the case the more it felt like the whole thing was slipping through their fingers. "You don't know that for sure."

"I know how to do my job, Nick." The sharp look Grissom gave him should have been enough to tell Nick to back off, but he was too caught up in the idea of letting a suspect walk to notice. "This was a messy case, it got to everyone. But we can only go where the evidence leads us, you know that. Making it personal isn't going to do anyone any good."

"It's not personal," Nick answered automatically, but as soon as he met Grissom's gaze he relented. "They were just kids, Gris. They didn't deserve that."

"Nobody deserves it. Now go do your job and let Brass worry about the suspect."

"Grissom, come on."

Grissom was already walking away, but he stopped when he heard Nick's voice and turned around. "Stop whining and go do your job."


Before he could say anything else Grissom was walking away again, leaving Nick to stare after him with his hands balled into fists at his sides. He waited until the older man was already in his own truck before he kicked the pavement, letting out a stream of obscenities under his breath as he made his way back to his truck. He had a feeling Grissom was always going to treat him like a rookie, but there were times when he wasn't sure the job was worth putting up with it.

The last thing he felt like doing was going back to the lab and spending the rest of his shift watching surveillance videos from the liquor store; there was no way they were going to catch the guy who robbed the place anyway, so all he was doing was busywork. He knew Grissom had given him the case just to keep him out of the way, and he knew if he made a big scene about it that it would just make him look bad. That was the most frustrating thing about working for Grissom; no matter what he did to jerk the other CSIs around he always came out of it looking like the professional, and if Nick tried to argue with him he just ended up looking like a spoiled kid.

He pulled into the parking lot of the crime lab and slammed his truck door a little harder than strictly necessary, but even the quick burst of violence didn't make him feel any better. Wanting to do his job felt like a crime all of a sudden, and part of Nick felt like walking straight into Grissom's office and turning in his gun. He was halfway there when someone stepped in front of him, and he stopped just short of colliding with the person standing less than a foot away from him. When he looked up he let out a groan and took a step backwards.

"You okay?" Greg asked. If he noticed that Nick wasn't exactly happy to see him he didn't let it show; his expression was a mixture of concern and nerves, and for a fleeting second Nick couldn't help thinking it looked kind of cute on him.

"No," Nick answered. He tried to step around the other man, but Greg seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and he moved just far enough to block Nick's path again.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Greg said, nodding in the direction of Grissom's office. "He looked pretty pissed when he came through here a few minutes ago."

Nick sighed and gave up trying to get around Greg. "I know. I'm the one who pissed him off."

Greg's eyebrow raised in that expression that told Nick he was more surprised that Nick was admitting it than that he'd been at fault. "Wanna talk about it?"


"No." His tone was flat and expressionless, and he regretted it just a little when he saw Greg flinch.

"Fair enough." For a second Nick thought that Greg might actually let it go and walk away, but a few seconds ticked by and he didn't move. He wasn't sure how long they stood there staring at each other, but before long Nick forgot all about Grissom and the fact that he'd just been considering quitting his job. There was something about the way Greg was watching him that made Nick feel like he was missing something, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was. Then Greg tilted his head to the side a little, and the way he smiled at Nick made his heart skip a beat. "Shift's almost over."

Nick opened his mouth to thank Greg for pointing out the obvious, but before he did he realized what the other man was trying to say. He started to shake his head; he knew he should turn around and head in the other direction, maybe get in his car and drive home where he couldn't do any more damage to his career for a few hours. He knew that was what he should do, but somehow Greg had managed to paralyze him with a single smile.

"You remember where it is?" Greg leaned in and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and before Nick knew what he was doing he was nodding.

"Good."

A few stunned seconds later Nick remembered to tell Greg that just because he knew where he lived didn't mean he was going to show up, but Greg was already gone.

Nick wasn't sure how long he sat in his truck staring up at Greg's apartment building. Time seemed to slow down while he sat there, or maybe it sped up – he wasn't sure anymore, he wasn't sure of anything except the fact that he shouldn't be there. He should have driven home and gone to bed alone, or maybe even driven back out to that club in Baker. At least he knew Greg wouldn't be there tonight, but that was the problem, wasn't it? Because he wanted to see Greg again, he wanted this to be easy and he knew Greg could give him that. He'd offered, hadn't he? So there was no reason for Nick to feel like he was taking advantage of anybody.

All the rationalization in the world wasn't convincing him, though, and he knew if he sat there long enough people were going to start coming out of their apartments to go to their day jobs and see him. Somebody might even decide he looked suspicious and call the cops, and he could just picture himself trying to explain what he was doing to one of the guys on the day shift. What he should have done was start the engine, driven back across town to his own place, taken a cold shower and gone to bed. What he did instead was get out of the truck and walk just a little faster than necessary up to Greg's apartment, knocking too hard on the door before he had a chance to talk himself out of it.


A few endless seconds later the door swung open and there was Greg again, grinning at him in that way that always made Nick want to do things he knew he couldn't do. Only now he could; now they both knew exactly where they stood, and Greg was standing there waiting for him to come in. "Thought maybe you'd changed your mind."

And that wasn't just a hint of doubt in Greg's voice, was it? It couldn't be, Nick decided, because doubt implied that this meant something to Greg, and he knew that wasn't true. It was just sex. Just sex, and it didn't really matter that they still had to look at each other after it was over. They could separate work from this…whatever between them, because it would run its course soon and then they'd both forget all about it.

It would run its course today. It had to, Nick told himself as he kicked the door shut behind him and let Greg lead him into the apartment. After this they'd go back to normal, joke around about girls and cases and pretend that they didn't know anything about each other outside the fragile glass walls of the crime lab.

Nick dropped his jacket on the back of a chair as he passed the kitchen, letting Greg lead him right through the living room and into the bedroom. There was no awkward small talk, no build-up to the main event, and that was exactly what Nick wanted. Somehow Greg knew that, but he wasn't going to think about how right now. He couldn't overanalyze this, because if he did he'd start feeling again and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

By the time they reached Greg's bed Nick's shirt was off, abandoned on the floor somewhere between the bedroom door and the foot of the bed. He kicked off his shoes while Greg shrugged out of his too-loud Hawaiian print shirt, leaving him in just a pair of jeans and a white undershirt. He'd already ditched his shoes and socks at some point before Nick worked up the courage to knock on his door, and something about the sight of Greg standing there barefoot made Nick want him even more. He'd never had a reaction like that with anyone, but suddenly his hands itched to touch and without thinking he reached out and caught Greg's arm, pulling him forward and reaching between them to fumble with the button on his jeans.

"You…uh…you need some help with that?" Greg breathed after a few seconds of Nick's hands working unsuccessfully on the button, his fingers rendered thick and clumsy by the force of his need.

He nodded and let go abruptly, letting Greg ease back onto the mattress and slide the button out of its hole. His zipper slid down to reveal just a hint of red and white striped cotton under denim; weird flash of a candy cane and Nick grinned, lost for a second in the image of Greg all decked out for Christmas in July. Not that it ever felt much like Christmas in Vegas, and he still hadn't decided if that was because of the place itself or the fact that his family was still back in Texas. Then Greg smiled up at him from under his eyelashes and Nick forgot all about the holidays, planting a knee on either side of the other man and crawling up the mattress to kiss him.

Hard and demanding, all lips and tongue and clash of teeth against skin, the taste of Greg familiar and yet still new enough to make Nick instantly hard. He gasped against Greg's mouth and pulled back, just long enough to focus on dark eyes before he dove in again and caught that mouth against his. The image of Greg leaning back on his elbows with his pants undone was going to fuel more fantasies than he wanted to think about, especially while he was trying to convince himself that they couldn't do this anymore. Once was too much, and twice…twice was just stupid, so anything past that was inexcusable.

Warm hands slid up his back and into his hair, clutching tight enough to sting a little when he lifted his hips far enough to slide one hand past Greg's waistband. Hard arch against him and Greg was pulsing in his hand like this was all he'd been thinking about since he left Nick standing in the hall outside Grissom's office. And maybe it was; maybe while Nick was busy trying to talk himself out of wanting this Greg was anticipating it, picturing the moment when they could drop all the real life bullshit and just feel for awhile. It seemed like a pretty good plan while Greg was pinned underneath him, and Nick couldn't remember anymore why he'd been so sure this was such a bad idea.


He released Greg's mouth with one last, bruising kiss, ignoring the frustration in Greg's eyes and his moan when Nick pulled his hands away to push his undershirt up over his chest. He could have just dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and not bothered with the rest of their clothes, but he wanted to see Greg while he sucked him. He wanted to mouth all that smooth skin stretched taut across his stomach, feel soft hair under his palms when he ran his hands up Greg's thighs. He wanted to see if he could make Greg scream his name, because for once he was fucking somebody who actually knew it.

Greg sat up long enough to tug his shirt over his head and drop it on the floor, leaning up on his elbows to watch Nick work his jeans down over his hips. When he was left in just his candy-striped boxers Nick paused, knuckles stroking absently across Greg's calf as he wondered if Greg was peppermint-flavored today. He ducked his head to the side to hide a grin, shaking it off before he turned back to find those boxers easing down Greg's hips. A quick bend of his knees and they were gone altogether, and Nick couldn't help it, he had to taste.

The first hot stroke of tongue across the head of Greg's cock told Nick that he was still Greg-flavored, and he swallowed a hysterical laugh and distracted himself with mouthing his way down Greg's length. His tongue dipped between spread legs, past Greg's balls to slide across that taut stretch of skin and then Greg just…opened for him, knees up and spread wide and he was moaning, murmuring something that didn't make sense when Nick's tongue slid inside him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd done this. In college, maybe, or before, when he was young and stupid and fumbling around with one of the two guys in his high school he actually knew for sure were discreet enough not to tell anybody about the things they did when they managed to find a little time alone together. Most of his fucks these days were hard and fast, usually standing up in the corner of some public place, dangerous enough to turn him on but a little too dangerous to let him relax and take his time.

The first time with Greg had been completely private, but he'd been too wound up and it had all been too fast for him to slow down. He was still in a hurry this time, nerves and blood clawing at his insides, demanding that he just take because he might not get this chance again ever and what if it all got ripped away from him before he got what he wanted? He had to force himself to go slow, like swimming against a strong tide or wading through mud, but he wanted it to last this time. He wanted to know how Greg's skin felt against his, to memorize the way he kissed so that when this was all over he'd have something to work with.


And he wasn't surprised that Greg was a talker – the constant stream of nonsense words pouring out of him was almost comforting, breaking up the silence in the room and reminding Nick of where he was and who he was with. This wasn't just some nameless fuck, and even though he didn't want it to Nick couldn't deny that that made it better. His patience was stretched to the limit when he finally got what he was waiting for; a choked Nick, please that made his heart thud and his cock twitch and his whole body feel like he'd just touched a livewire.

He looked up to find Greg clutching the sheets in one hand, knuckles white against blue cotton. In his other hand was the lube they'd dropped on the bed the night before, and Nick realized suddenly that these were the same sheets they'd slept on just fourteen hours ago. That seemed important somehow, but he couldn't think about it and focus on getting his jeans off at the same time, so he pushed the thought aside and stripped out of the rest of his clothes as fast as possible. He found a condom on the table next to the bed and reached for the lube, leaning over Greg to kiss him hard before he rolled the condom on and ran a slick hand over his own dick.

There was still so much of Greg he hadn't touched; he didn't know all the spots that made him moan or whimper or shout, didn't know if Greg liked to be fucked hard or made love to, slow and gentle and all the things Nick never let himself do. Because this was always about getting off, getting it over with so he could go back to his other life and forget about the way this made him feel until he just couldn't ignore it anymore. It was about coming hard and fast while he stared at the wall or the back of someone's head or the inside of his own eyelids, but never like this – face to face with long, surprisingly muscular legs wrapped around him.

It was never agonizingly slow, so good it was almost painful, the body under his arching up to draw him in deeper with each thrust. It was never a hand at the back of his neck to drag him down, teeth grazing his bottom lip before it was sucked into a hot mouth, fingers in his hair and heels digging into his back to urge him in further, just a little harder until he couldn't take anymore. And it was never hot mouth against mouth, more sharing air that actually kissing as he came down from his orgasm, elbows locked and his whole body shaking. It was never soothing hands on his back and shoulders, kisses feathered across his lips, chin, every part of his sweat-damp skin that Greg could reach. And when he finally pulled out there was a sigh that he was almost sure was his own, soft and a little sad around the edges because something that felt that good should never have to end.

His fingers shook when he rolled the condom off and dropped it in the trash, and when he turned back Greg was still hard and God, touching himself almost lazily, like it didn't bother him at all to wait for Nick to finish what he'd started. And that was only fair, so Nick started at his neck, pushing Greg's hand away to replace it with his own. He alternated between rough strokes and the lightest of touches, teasing until the breath on his ear was raspy and uneven and the hands on his back flexed hard against his skin.

He couldn't get enough of the way Greg tasted; salt and musk and something almost sweet that Nick was sure was uniquely Greg, his head thrown back to expose his neck to Nick's mouth. And he was going to leave a mark, but he didn't even care if he left evidence behind because he hadn't felt this way in a long time and he didn't want it to end…ever, if possible. He pulled back to survey the bright red mark on Greg's neck, the fingers of his free hand tracing the mouth-shaped outline before he pressed their lips together again and slid his tongue inside.

There were traces of mint on Greg's tongue, and Nick realized he must have brushed his teeth while he was waiting for Nick to show up. Probably showered too, if the clean scent of his sweat-slick skin was any indication. Nick wondered if Greg thought about him in the shower, if he was hard before Nick knocked on the door. Pictured Greg standing under the water, fingers wrapped tight around his cock, whispering Nick's name when he came…


He wanted to hear that now; more than anything, he wanted to watch Greg while he came, see his name on those lips and know…something. He wasn't even sure what, but none of this made sense anyway so he wasn't too worried that he didn't really understand what he was feeling. It was a rush, knowing how much Greg wanted him. Knowing that Greg had probably been looking at him for awhile, imagining what it would be like to kiss Nick, what his hands would feel like on Greg's body.

There was an audible gasp when he wrenched his mouth away from Greg's; he wasn't sure who made the noise, but it didn't matter. All that mattered were Greg's eyes, squeezed shut tight like he was working hard not to lose control, Greg's hips moving in time with Nick's hand, leaving the mattress with every thrust. He knew it wasn't quite enough, but he wanted to watch Greg's face when he came, so instead of replacing his hand with his mouth he let go long enough to kneel between Greg's legs. Those eyes snapped open to look at him, but before Greg could ask him what the hell he was doing Nick was stroking him again.

Greg's eyelids fluttered, long lashes against pale cheeks flushed red with effort, and Nick ignored the weird pounding in his heart and used his free hand to nudge the other man's legs a little further apart. And God, Greg looked good stretched out in front of him, totally unselfconscious about the fact that he was on display. His whole body was flushed, his hips still working with each stroke of Nick's hand. Then Nick slid two fingers inside him, and Greg's whole body shuddered. For a second Nick wondered if it was too much, if he was still too sensitive, but when he started to pull them out Greg's eyes snapped open. "Jesus, Nick…more."

A third finger joined the first two and Greg thrust up hard, then again, and when Nick twisted his grip just a little and drove his fingers in as far as they would go Greg closed his eyes and arched up hard, his whole body tensing for a second before he collapsed again. Nick left his fingers buried inside Greg while he licked his stomach clean, then he turned his attention to Greg's slowly softening cock, cleaning him thoroughly before he eased his fingers free and stretched out on the mattress again. He glanced over at Greg, watching his chest heave while he fought to get oxygen back into his lungs. His lips were parted, red and swollen and Nick wanted to kiss them again, but instead he turned his attention to the ceiling and studied the patterns the early morning sun cast on the plaster.

"Jesus, that was…"

The sound of Greg's voice, breathless and vaguely awed, made Nick's cock twitch, but he ignored it and flashed a wry grin at the other man. "Thanks."

Funny little half-smile, and Greg's hand slid through his hair before it dropped away again. "And here I thought you'd forgotten how to talk in the past two hours."

And he hadn't even realized until that moment that he hadn't said a word since he got there, but he wasn't really surprised. Talking just complicated things, made everything too real in a way he wasn't ready to deal with. Would never be ready, not if things kept going the way they had since he figured out how well 'I'm gay' would go over if he said it to his father. But lately everything was spiraling out of control, and right now this was the only thing that felt right. "Talking's overrated."

"See, I'm a big fan, myself," Greg said, and Nick smiled up at the ceiling because that, at least, was undeniable. Sometimes it was really fucking annoying, too, but mostly he liked the sound of Greg's voice. Liked the way it warmed him from the inside when Greg cracked jokes at work, grinned at him and then started spouting off tech-speak like he expected Nick to be able to keep up with him. He liked the way it sounded when it was low and close to his ear, liked the breathless sound of his name carried on Greg's voice when he came. He liked a lot of things about Greg, and maybe in a world where he wasn't a former cop and his father wasn't a big shot judge he could see where this thing between them could go.


As soon as the thought surfaced he clamped down hard on it. He wasn't thinking about his father, not while he could still taste Greg on his tongue. He wasn't thinking about anything; that was the deal, the promise he'd made to himself when he got out of his truck and walked up to Greg's door. This was just a release of tension; they both knew it, they knew he needed to get his mind off work and unsolvable cases and unreasonable bosses for awhile. Greg was just being a friend, and as grateful as Nick was for that, he wasn't about to let himself think it was anything else.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Greg announced, pushing himself up onto one elbow to look down at Nick. "You can crash here if you want. I don't mind."

Nick nodded dumbly, letting Greg's voice wash over him without really registering the words. But when he realized Greg was getting up he reached out, his hand catching Greg's wrist before he had time to talk himself out of it. The kiss was softer this time, like Nick was searching for something in the way Greg's mouth moved against his. He didn't even know what the question was, but his stomach knotted when Greg kissed him back.

Maybe he was afraid to let Greg go even long enough to take a shower; maybe he was worried that he'd find a way to talk himself into getting up and getting dressed, leaving without a word. Maybe he'd even get all the way home before he started regretting it, when he was alone in his own bed with no warm body making him too hot and no promise of more in the morning. He wasn't thinking about the reasons why he'd stopped Greg from getting out of bed, but when Greg murmured something that sounded suspiciously like 'fuck the shower' against his mouth Nick was glad he had.

Nick stretched and opened his eyes, squinting against the bright mid-afternoon light pouring in through the window. His first thought was that he definitely hadn't ended up at home, and as soon as he realized he wasn't in his bed the night before came rushing back to him. His whole body flushed as he remembered the way he'd held onto Greg, the way they'd moved together and then later, how he'd kept kissing Greg over and over until finally he couldn't tell where he ended and Greg began.

Coming here had been a mistake; he'd known it when he knocked on Greg's door, and it was even more obvious now in the harsh glare of daylight. He was alone in the bed for the second time in as many days, but he knew Greg was probably just in the next room, watching TV or maybe playing video games while he waited for Nick to wake up. Nick sat up slowly, making as little noise as possible as he climbed out of bed and found his boxers. He pulled them on and headed for the bathroom, glancing down the hall toward the living room to make sure Greg wasn't standing there watching him. But there was no sign of the other man except for the low, dull drone of the television, so Nick let himself into the bathroom and closed the door.


Once he was sure he was alone he let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep; long enough for his limbs to feel heavy and sluggish, but he looked like he hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in weeks. His eyes were red and puffy, dark shadows underneath them making him look even older than he felt. He was still exhausted even after sleeping most of the day, but he was too restless to think about calling in and going home to try to get some more sleep. What he wanted to do was get back out there, show Grissom that he could be trusted to do his job. He wanted to find answers to the case that had been haunting him for two days, that had driven him to Greg's apartment in the first place.

He let out another sigh and turned away from his reflection, intent on borrowing Greg's toothbrush and then getting out of his apartment and back to his own place as soon as possible. But when he looked down there was a brand-new toothbrush still in the box sitting right next to Greg's own toothbrush, and Nick's stomach turned as he realized Greg had left it out for him. He reached for the box, lifting it carefully and turning it over as though he thought it might explode in his hand. But it was just an ordinary toothbrush, and he finally shook his head and slid it out of the box.

It was possible that Greg just happened to have an extra lying around; maybe he was in the habit of picking up random guys and bringing them home, and maybe he didn't want everybody and his brother using his toothbrush. There was probably a perfectly innocent explanation. Nick told himself he believed that and reached for the toothpaste, then turned on the sink and avoided looking at his reflection while he brushed his teeth.

Once his mouth was clean the rest of him felt even more dirty, though, and the thought of standing in Greg's shower was a lot more inviting than going out there and facing Greg himself. He hesitated for a few seconds before he finally made up his mind, sliding his boxers off again and turning on the water. He'd just take a quick shower and then he'd get dressed and go home; Greg wouldn't mind, and it would save a little time if he didn't have to shower when he got back to his own place.

It wasn't because he was avoiding having to make awkward small talk with Greg. He'd have to do that eventually anyway, but if he took a shower it would be a little more believable when he said he had to leave right away so he could get some clean clothes before their next shift started. And okay, maybe it would have been nice if Greg had been there when he woke up just so Nick could touch him one more time before he put an end to whatever they were doing, but he knew he wouldn't have been able to stop Greg from talking and right now that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He closed his eyes and ducked his head under the water, willing his mind to go blank so he wouldn't have to think about Greg or sex or stupid things like toothbrushes and the shirt still balled up in the back of his locker. For a minute or two he floated on the refreshing blankness of not thinking about anything; the warm spray felt good on his skin, and the steady rhythm of water pounding against the shower wall lulled him into a sort of trance. But just as the last of the tension flowed out of him another image floated into his memory, not of Greg this time, but the face of a seventeen-year-old boy lying face-up in an alley. Nick's eyes snapped open and he shook his head to chase the image away, his heart pounding loud against his eardrums and his fingers shaking at the force of the memory.

For a second he thought he might throw up, and he braced himself against the shower wall while he waited for the worst of the nausea to pass. When he could breathe again he straightened up, finishing his shower as quickly as possible and reaching for the towel hanging next to the door. He carefully kept his mind blank as he tugged his boxers back on and headed back to the bedroom in search of his clothes, resolutely not thinking about where he was or what had driven him there in the first place.

When he reached the bedroom Greg was already there, standing in front of the closet in just a pair of jeans and staring at his clothes. Nick could tell he was giving a lot of thought to picking out a shirt, and he was tempted to suggest that Greg wear the bright blue one that Nick had always thought looked best on him. He swallowed the suggestion just in time and crossed to the bed, picking up his jeans off the floor and turning his back to Greg while he got dressed.

"Hey, you okay?"


The sound of Greg's voice in the silence of the room made Nick flinch, and he turned a little too quickly to find the other man watching him. "What?"

"I asked if you were okay. You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Nick wiped the stricken expression off his face as quickly as he could, but he knew it was already too late. It was obvious he wasn't going to get Greg to believe there was nothing wrong, but he wasn't going to talk about it if he could help it. "It's nothing. Just thinking about work."

Greg nodded and for a second Nick actually believed he might just let it go, but a second later Greg abandoned his search for a shirt and crossed the room to sit on the edge of his bed. "So what happened with that guy they brought in last night? Was he the one?"

"They let him go," Nick answered, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice. He really didn't want to talk about this, especially not with Greg, but he knew if he made a big deal out of it Greg would just push even harder to get the truth out of him. "Nothing to hold him on."

"Yeah, but you must know something, right? I mean the same DNA sample was on all three bodies, so…"

"Look, can we just drop it?" Nick interrupted, ignoring the flash of guilt when he looked up at Greg. He knew Greg wasn't trying to annoy him, but the last thing he wanted to talk about was DNA and Greg's half-baked theories on the case. All he knew was the evidence that passed through his lab; he had no idea how frustrating it was when they had mountains of evidence and not a single suspect.

"Sorry. I'm just curious. It's all anybody at work's been talking about since it happened, and since you're assigned to the case and all..."


"Yeah, well, Gris took me off the case." He stole a quick glance at Greg, a fresh wave of guilt washing over him when he saw the other man's expression. He'd never been very good at hiding it when his emotions were running high, and after the last two days he was too wired to even try.

He finished buttoning his shirt and picked up his shoes, sitting down on the bed a few feet away from Greg to pull them on and tie the laces. He could feel the weight of Greg's gaze on him as he tied his shoes automatically, keeping his own eyes fixed on his hands so he wouldn't have to look at the other man. This was exactly what he'd been hoping to avoid – this suffocating, vibrating silence that said everything without saying anything at all. He couldn't leave feeling like there was something unfinished between them, because if he did he knew he'd end up right back here again. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about it, to give Greg his patented 'it was great, but…' speech and see the disappointment in the other man's eyes. This was exactly the reason he didn't sleep with people he knew, because somehow they always ended up in exactly this position no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

"Look," he heard himself say, "This…it's been fun, but I…it's just a bad idea."

And God, he sounded like an idiot. He was usually pretty good at this stuff; all he had to do was turn on the charm, smile and make it sound like it was his fault it wasn't working out, and most of the women he dumped ended up begging him to stay friends. The sound of him tripping over his own words was so foreign to him that he wasn't sure if Greg had even gotten the point until he ventured a glance at the other man.

"Why?"

Nick frowned at the question and looked down at his hands again. Greg wasn't supposed to ask him for an explanation; he was just supposed to nod, say he understood and point Nick in the direction of the door. Even if he didn't get it he wasn't supposed to ask; that wasn't the way these things worked, at least not where Nick came from. "You know why, man," he said, as though the answer should be obvious even to Greg. "We work together, you know how people talk."

"So? People talk all the time and nobody takes it seriously. You think anybody really believes Catherine's sleeping with Grissom? Come on."

"People are talking about Catherine and Grissom?" Nick asked, his discomfort temporarily eclipsed as he wondered how he'd missed that rumor.

"People talk about everybody. It doesn't mean anything." Greg paused and shifted a little closer, reaching out with one hand and toying with the tail of Nick's shirt while he spoke. "Look, I'm not stupid, okay? I know why you ended up here the first time, and I know why you came back this morning. You were freaked out about the case, if anybody can understand that it's me. But we get along okay, and we have a pretty good time together, right? So what's the problem?"


Nick turned to look Greg in the eye and tell him that that was the problem, that they got along too well and it felt way too good when they were together. He couldn't afford that kind of distraction, not with someone like Greg, and especially not with a guy he worked with. He started to tell Greg that this could cost them both their jobs, that it was more serious than just a handful of rumors about Gil and Catherine, but before he got a single word out Greg leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

It was instinct to kiss him back, just like it was instinct to bury his fingers in Greg's hair and pull him closer. His free hand slid down Greg's bare chest, fingers splayed against warm skin as he catalogued the mingled tastes of mint and Greg on his tongue. He wasn't sure how he ended up stretched out on the bed again with Greg underneath him, just like he wasn't sure how he'd gone from sucking on Greg's bottom lip to mouthing the smooth skin on his neck, pulling the blood to the surface to leave a mouth-shaped bruise.

He pulled back to look at the mark without really thinking about what he was doing, but as soon as he saw it another memory flashed in his mind's eye. A second later he was scrambling backwards, breathless and flushed and tasting blood even though he knew he hadn't broken Greg's skin. He stood up abruptly, ignoring the desire still coursing through him as he watched Greg blink in confusion and sit up.

"I can't." He shook his head to try to erase the lingering memory, but it stubbornly refused to dissipate. "I…I gotta go."

He was out of the bedroom and at Greg's door before the other man even had time to react, but he didn't stop moving even once he was safely outside. The chances were pretty good that Greg wouldn't actually follow him, especially after the way Nick had run out of his apartment, but he wasn't about to take any chances with a scene in the middle of the parking lot. He didn't want to see the disappointment and confusion in Greg's eyes, he just wanted to get the hell out of there and forget that any of this had ever happened.

And maybe Greg deserved a better explanation than 'we work together'; they were friends, after all, and Nick hadn't set out to ruin their working relationship. He couldn't stay there and face Greg, though, not with that image still burned in his mind. The fact that Greg was so warm and alive made it even worse, because Nick could still feel the other man pulsing against him even now that he'd made it to his car. He could feel Greg's mouth on his, Greg's skin under his hands and his heartbeat against Nick's cock when he slid inside him. He wanted more and he knew he wasn't going to stop wanting, but it was better that it ended now. He was playing with fire in more ways than one, and if Greg hated him for running out then maybe it was for the best.

There were days when Nick hated his job. Most days he couldn't even imagine doing anything else, but some days made him wonder why he even bothered to show up. He'd been wondering that for awhile when he finally walked back into the lab, exhausted and dazed from spending the past few hours gathering every sample he could find from the crime scene. It wasn't the case he wanted to work on, but no matter how frustrating it was he knew there wasn't much more they could do about the case he couldn't stop thinking about. They'd gathered all the evidence and pieced together what happened, but all the evidence in the world couldn't give them a suspect without a DNA sample on file.

He knew as well as Grissom that they didn't have a case, but that didn't make it any easier to let it go. He'd spent most of the night trying not to think about all the images still floating around in his mind, but every time he thought he'd finally succeeded one of them would resurface out of nowhere. At one moment it would be a pair of wide, clear blue eyes staring up at him, then a trail of dried blood at the corner of a pink mouth. Other times he'd be engrossed in collecting evidence and suddenly remember a red, mouth-shaped bruise standing out against too-pale skin, and he'd remember the way he left Greg that afternoon, confused and probably frustrated that Nick wouldn't talk about what was going on.


He'd managed not to think about Greg for most of the night, but it was impossible to avoid him completely. He couldn't hand off his samples to another tech, and he couldn't explain to Catherine why he couldn't give the samples to Greg himself. So there was nothing he could do but walk into Greg's lab and hand over the samples, explain what they needed done and hope Greg wouldn't bring up what had happened between them.

It might be easier for them both to pretend it hadn't happened if they'd left it at one night, but there was nothing he could do to change that now. Besides, they were both adults, and this wasn't the first time he'd gotten involved with somebody he worked with. Granted, he worked more closely with Greg than the handful of women he'd dated from the police department, but it was almost the same thing. He told himself he believed that and squared his shoulders before he pushed open the door to Greg's lab and stepped inside.

For a moment he was so overwhelmed by the loud music pumping out of Greg's portable stereo that he couldn't focus on anything else, but when he finally caught sight of Greg his heart skipped a beat and he had to scramble to catch the samples he was holding before he dropped them. He'd been prepared for an awkward conversation, possibly a little anger, but he wasn't expecting Greg to be wearing the exact shirt Nick had almost suggested he put on that afternoon in Greg's apartment. The sight of blue cotton did something weird to his stomach and he almost turned around and walked right back out of the lab, but before he made his escape the music died and he looked up to find Greg watching him.

"Hey."

"Hey," Nick echoed, swallowing hard against the urge to turn and run in the other direction. "Got some work for you."

Greg nodded once and gestured toward the only open spot on his lab station. "If they're labeled just leave them there. I'll get to them when I'm done with Grissom's hair samples."

"I thought Gris was still working that triple."

"He is," Greg answered without looking up. "And before you ask, I can't tell you anything."

"I wasn't gonna ask." Nick paused and watched Greg for a few awkward moments. He knew Greg couldn't tell him anything about a case he'd been taken off, at least not without Grissom's permission. Still, they'd all worked the case that first night, and it was natural for him to wonder what was going on with it. "Why, is there something to tell?"


"I just told you I can't say anything." Greg let out a little huff of breath and Nick knew he was mad, but the last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation about what had happened between them while they were at work. Still, he couldn't help wondering if Greg was withholding information just to punish Nick; he wasn't usually that hung up on the rules, especially not where Nick was concerned. Then again, maybe he'd always gone the extra mile in the past because he was hoping something might happen between them, and now that it had he didn't have a reason to play along anymore.

"Whatever, man. Just get me those results as soon as you can."

Greg looked up at him then, and just for a second Nick thought he might say something about the way Nick had left his apartment that afternoon. Then Greg shook his head and looked back down at his microscope. "I'll page you when they're done."

Nick nodded even though Greg wasn't looking at him, lingering just a second longer before he shook himself and turned toward the door. He wasn't disappointed that Greg hadn't said anything about them; there wasn't even a 'them' to say anything about, he reminded himself as he walked down the hall toward the break room. Whatever was between them was over now, and they both knew it was better this way. So there was no reason to regret the way Greg had brushed him off in the lab.

He swallowed a sigh as he walked into the break room only to find Warrick and Sara in the middle of an intense-looking conversation. "I'm just saying it's a hell of a way to find out. No wonder he freaked."

"When who found out what?" Nick asked as Warrick finished speaking, glancing from him to Sara.

"Hey, man," Warrick said when he saw Nick. He pushed himself off the counter he'd been leaning against and reached into the fridge for a bottle of water before he answered. "The father of one of those kids – Jessie Walker's dad. Guess he didn't know his kid was gay."

"Just because he was at the club doesn't automatically make him gay," Sara pointed out, and Nick would have grinned at her incessant need to play devil's advocate if the conversation wasn't already making him sick to his stomach. As soon as Warrick said the kid's name he pictured big blue eyes against too-pale skin, a green t-shirt riding up enough to show ribs that jutted out against Jessie's stomach. He was a small kid even for his age, and Nick remembered thinking when he first saw him that there was no fake I.D. in the world good enough to make this kid pass for twenty-one.


He half-heard Sara and Warrick arguing back and forth about the kid's father and his assumption that Jessie was gay, but they all knew the father was right. The fact that he was there could have had an innocent explanation, sure, but they'd all seen the way those kids had been murdered. They'd seen the semen on them and they knew the coroner had found trace amounts of the same DNA on all three of them, all of it from an anonymous donor.

The minute he'd looked at those kids he'd known they were too young to be at the club, and the worst part was that the club owner wouldn't even get shut down for letting them in. Nobody cared about a few dead gay teenagers – not even their own parents, from the sounds of it. The most that would happen was that the club got shut down for a week for serving minors, lost a little revenue, and then opened up again. By then everybody would have forgotten about those kids and moved on to the next case.

Only Nick was pretty sure he'd never forget; he knew he'd never erase the image of those eyes from his memory, or the image of three bodies lined up side by side in that alley as though they'd been shot by a firing squad. He'd never forget the marks on their neck from where each of them was suffocated, and he wouldn't forget that they'd never caught the bastard who'd drugged them and raped them in the first place.

"Hey man, you okay?"

Warrick's voice cut into his reverie, and Nick looked up too fast. The room spun briefly before he managed to focus again, and he knew he probably looked even worse than he felt. "Yeah," he answered, but his voice broke on the single syllable and he had to clear his throat before he tried again. "Yeah, I'm all right. Just tired."

"You look like hell," Warrick said. "You should bail early and get some sleep. It's a slow night, I'll cover with Gris if you want."

"Nah, I'm okay," Nick answered, suppressing a shiver at the thought of going back to his place alone. When he was home without anything to take his mind off it the memories were even worse; at least at work he could concentrate on something else, even if he wasn't working the case that had been haunting him for days. "Just need some coffee."

He managed a weak grin as he walked over to the coffee pot and reached for a cup, hoping they wouldn't notice the slight tremor in his hand as he poured the coffee and then set the pot back down. When he turned around again Warrick and Sara were both watching him, but as soon as he caught them they both cleared their throats and looked away.

"Trace should have those results by now," Sara said, pushing herself off the counter and heading for the door.


"Yeah, I'll come with you," Warrick answered, nodding at Nick before he followed her out of the break room.

Part of Nick was relieved to be left alone for a few minutes, but the rest of him couldn't help worrying about what Warrick and Sara thought of the way he'd been acting lately. He wasn't being careful enough, and this whole thing with Greg was just making everything worse. This was the reason he couldn't get involved in a serious relationship, especially not with a guy he worked with. He'd told himself that at least a hundred times since he first joined the Dallas P.D., and over the years it had become a good excuse to keep himself from getting too close to anybody.

Lately, though, he found himself thinking about Greg in a way he knew he shouldn't, and even though he knew it was just because of the case he still worried that someone was going to notice. Listening to Warrick and Sara talk about Jessie Walker's father was enough to convince him that he couldn't come out to anybody at work, and dating Greg was just way too close for comfort. It was best that it ended now before anything really got started.

It was just too bad he couldn't stop thinking about how nice it was not to go to bed alone.

What he should have done was find some girl to spend a few nights with; that, at least, was safe, and he didn't have to worry about any messy feelings getting involved. Only he hadn't been looking to run into someone he knew at that club the first night he slept with Greg, and once he realized what he was doing it was way too late to stop it.

Maybe he should have taken Warrick up on his offer to cover for him; he hadn't been sleeping very well, and he wasn't really doing anybody any good at the lab. He and Catherine had done as much as they could on their case, and waiting around for the results from Greg wasn't going to make a difference. He already knew exactly what the results would be; another dead end, and another wall for him to bang his head against for awhile. Only this one didn't make him feel sick just thinking about it, and it didn't remind him of all the reasons he hadn't had a serious relationship since college.

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, cringing at the bitter taste that burned his throat on the way down. He dumped the rest of it down the sink and tossed the cup in the garbage can, running a hand over his face and taking a deep breath before he headed back to the lab to find something to do. The problem was that he had no idea where he was going, and he knew no matter what he did to occupy himself he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about those kids.

Nick still wasn't exactly sure what he was doing here. He hadn't been working the triple homicide, so he was still a little sketchy on what exactly had led them to this point. All he knew was that they'd gotten some information off one of the kid's computers, and now everybody was back on the case and everything else had been pushed to the back burner.

Which led to Nick being ordered by Grissom to drive out to Jessie Walker's house and sweet talk his father into giving up Jessie's computer. "You're good with people," Grissom had said when Nick asked why he was being sent to talk to the father. It was what Grissom always said when he was handing off an assignment he didn't want to deal with personally; Nick knew it was true, he was good at setting people at ease, while Grissom usually left people wondering what had just happened to them.


That didn't make this particular assignment any easier, though, because it had been two days since he walked in on Warrick and Sara's conversation and he hadn't stopped thinking about Jessie's father since. More to the point, he hadn't stopped resenting him, comparing him to his own parents and wondering how somebody could care more about appearances than the fact that their kid was dead. It didn't matter that he'd never met Mr. Walker, it didn't even matter that he had no idea if Warrick's impression of him had been right. All that mattered was that he still couldn't think about Jessie without feeling sick, and now that he was back on the case it was worse instead of better.

He took a deep breath as he pulled up outside the Walkers' house, killing the engine and shutting off his headlights as slowly as possible. None of this was personal, he reminded himself for the hundredth time as he swung the car door open and set one foot on the ground. He didn't know these people, he told himself as he set the other foot down and closed the door behind him. He didn't even know Jessie, and this was just another case. Another case they were going to solve, and then he could put it behind him.

That thought carried him up the front walk and to the door, and he only hesitated for a second before he rang the doorbell. It felt like forever before the door finally swung open, and he barely managed not to flinch when he found himself face to face with Jessie's father. The older man's eyes were sunken and rimmed with red, and Nick found himself caught between a twisted mixture of pity and revulsion. He didn't want to be here; he wanted to turn around and get back in his truck, drive as fast as he could and not stop until he'd left every memory of this case behind him.

"Mr. Walker, I'm Nick Stokes with the Vegas crime lab," he began, the words spilling out of his mouth automatically.

"We've told you people everything," Mr. Walker said, his voice as weary as his features. "What else do you want?"

"Sir, we think we may have a new lead in the case," Nick answered, the cop in him taking over long enough to explain what he needed. "They found some e-mails on one of the other boys' computers that might help us find the person who killed your son. Did Jessie have access to a computer at home?"

"There's one in his room," Mr. Walker answered, his voice faltering a little as he glanced over his shoulder toward the hall that Nick assumed led to the bedrooms. "But I don't see what this has to do with anything."

"Sir, may I come in?" Nick asked, forcing himself to smile reassuringly when Mr. Walker turned to look at him again.

The older man nodded and took a step backwards, his shoulders deflating a little as he ushered Nick into the living room. Nick glanced around as he crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the low couch, noting the scratches on the coffee table and the worn spots in the upholstery. He scanned the family pictures scattered around the shelves on one side of the room, his stomach lurching when he spotted an empty space and realized that must have been where Jessie's picture used to be.


The house was so much different than the one he'd grown up in; it was a lot smaller, for one thing, and despite the size of his family they'd always had the best of everything. His mother devoted her life to helping the less fortunate, spending her entire career in the public defender's office, but that didn't stop her from making sure their house looked like a judge's home. Seeing the way Jessie grew up just made him feel even worse.

"My wife's barely left the bedroom since it happened," Mr. Walker said, glancing toward the back of the house again as he sat in an ancient-looking leather recliner across from Nick. "She can't even say his name. It was bad enough before, but then they told us where they found him…"

He trailed off, his mouth twisting into a thin line that made Nick's stomach turn. Just for a second something like disgust flashed in the older man's eyes, and Nick was sure he wouldn't be able to do this. He couldn't just sit there and listen to the man talk about his son as though he'd never really known him. Only he didn't have a choice, because he was already on thin ice with Grissom as it was and he couldn't go back to the lab and admit he couldn't handle this case.

"Mr. Walker, the information we found in those e-mails indicates that someone set up a meeting with the boys. There's a good chance that there's more information on Jessie's computer, and if so we might be able to track down our suspect."

The older man nodded, but Nick could tell he wasn't really listening. His mind was back in that alley, probably picturing the same scene Nick had been trying to forget all week. He was going to be haunted by those images forever and he'd never even seen them; what chance did Nick have to exorcise them when he'd had a front row seat?

He swallowed a sigh and told himself to stick to the facts, to find a way to get Mr. Walker to cooperate. The only thing that mattered now was catching this guy before he killed any more kids, and Nick had to do whatever it took to make sure that happened.

"Look, sir, chances are that the location was incidental. The bartender doesn't remember actually seeing the boys inside the club," Nick said, his stomach turning even as he heard himself say the words. He knew it wasn't true; the bartender had lied to cover his boss' ass and save his job, but anybody could see through his story. Nick hadn't even had to hear the interrogation to figure that out. Still, the minute the words escaped his lips Mr. Walker's eyes lit up, and he turned back to Nick with a look of such hope that Nick felt like throwing up.

"You mean my boy wasn't…?"


"I'm saying that the location could have been random," Nick answered, hating himself a little more with every word. He turned on his friendliest smile, the one his mother had always said could charm the spots off a leopard. "The alley behind that club is the only one on that street without street access on both ends, and there aren't any street lights in that part of town. The club might not have had anything to do with it."

If he hadn't felt sick before the look of relief on Mr. Walker's face would have made him nauseous. As it was his stomach just clenched even tighter, and he was almost sure he wouldn't make it out of the house without throwing up. He hated himself for the lie, hated himself for coming up with it so easily. He hated himself even more when Mr. Walker reached up to wipe his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh before he looked at Nick again.

"What was it you said you needed from me?"

"Mr. Walker…"

"Steve."

Nick's stomach clenched again and he had to grit his teeth for a second before he continued. "Steve. We'd like to take Jessie's computer back to the lab, see if we can extract any information that could help us catch this guy."

"Right, sure," the other man said, nodding distractedly as he stood up and turned toward the back of the house. "It's in his room. This way."

Nick's legs shook when he stood up, but he managed somehow to force them to carry him down the hall and into a bedroom at the very back of the house. His breath caught in his throat when Mr. Walker flipped on the light and Nick looked around, blinking against a sudden stinging in his eyes as he took in the posters on the walls and the clothes strewn across the floor.

"We haven't been in here since it happened," Mr. Walker said, but Nick barely heard him as he took in the details of Jessie's life.


His bed was unmade, the sheets tangled with the comforter at the end of the mattress. There was a pair of sneakers sticking out from under the bed, and more shoes scattered around the room. A hamper at one end of the room sat below a poster of the Lakers, and above Jessie's bed there was a Savage Garden poster, one of the edges curling away from the wall.

His desk was piled with school books and papers; the police had been through most of that stuff already, but Nick couldn't help running his fingers along the edge of one of Jessie's notebooks as he stopped next to the desk. In the corner of the cover was a small heart drawn in black ballpoint, surrounding the initials 'C.M.' Instantly Nick's mind flashed to another one of the faces from the alley; Chris Mason, the boy whose computer had held the e-mails that gave them their first break.

Nick's heart sank and he forced himself to look away, clearing his throat before he turned back to Mr. Walker. "I'm going to need any computer disks Jessie might have kept," he said, working hard to keep his voice steady. "Would you happen to know where he kept them?"

"Maybe in his desk," Mr. Walker answered, and Nick pulled open the drawer he indicated to reveal a box of floppy disks. He pulled on a pair of gloves before he picked them up and dropped them into an evidence bag, setting the bag down on the chair and going through the rest of Jessie's drawers to make sure he hadn't missed any.

It didn't take long to disconnect the hard drive and carry it out to his truck along with the rest of the evidence. Convincing a suddenly helpful Mr. Walker that he didn't need Jessie's monitor as well took a little longer, but finally he managed to get out of the house and back into his truck. He drove back to the lab on automatic pilot, his stomach in knots the entire way. He tried not to think about Mr. Walker or the look of relief on his face when he'd bought Nick's lie, but no matter how hard he tried he kept hearing himself say the location could have been random over and over.

By the time he got back to the lab and brought Jessie's hard drive to the computer lab he was pale and his skin felt clammy, and he barely managed to sign the evidence over to the tech on duty before he made a break for the bathroom and shut himself in one of the stalls. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last, but by the time he finished retching his stomach was empty and his throat burned.

When he was finally done he let himself out of the stall, rinsing his mouth at the sink before he washed his face. He was still staring at his pale complexion when the bathroom door opened, and he looked up to find Grissom standing in the doorway, watching him curiously. "You okay, Nicky?"


"Yeah," Nick answered, willing himself to believe it as he straightened up and reached for a paper towel. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, just a little stomach thing." He ran the paper towel over his mouth before he crumpled it into a ball and tossed it in the trash. "Nothing to worry about."

Grissom nodded and crossed to the sink, setting down the files he was carrying before he looked at Nick again. "Did you get Mr. Walker to give you Jessie's computer?"

"Yeah, the guys in the lab are working on it right now."

"Good."

For a few seconds Grissom just stared at him, and finally Nick cleared his throat and began backing toward the door. "Guess I should get back out there."

"Nick."


He stopped at the sound of Grissom's voice, forcing himself to look back at the other man.

"If you're coming down with something you should go home. There's no point making yourself sick over this case, that won't do anybody any good."

Nick nodded abruptly, not quite meeting the older man's gaze. A second later he was on the other side of the bathroom door, taking a deep breath to steady his wildly beating heart. He knew exactly what Grissom was saying; somehow his boss always seemed to know how each case was affecting the rest of them, whether they ever admitted it or not. He wasn't sure if Grissom had guessed exactly why this case was affecting Nick the way it was, but he knew Nick was having a hard time with it and that was enough.

After his run-in with Grissom Nick managed to make it back to the locker room without running into anyone else, and once he was alone in the silence of the locker room his heart started to slow down again. He wasn't sure what was happening to him; a panic attack, maybe, or possibly just overwhelming anger with himself. Either way he couldn't seem to stop the feelings that were rolling through him, he couldn't stop the images from coming or the anger from welling up inside him.

Focusing on changing his shirt made it a little easier, so when he finished with that he found the toothbrush he kept in his locker and focused on chasing the acrid taste out of his mouth. Several minutes later his gums were raw and the flavor of mint lingered on his tongue, and he'd stopped picturing that night in the alley almost a week ago. The memories weren't gone, but more recent memories of his own lies and the look of relief on Mr. Walker's face had taken center stage in his mind.


He knew it was because it had been less than an hour since he left Jessie's father standing on his front step, waving as though Nick had single-handedly given him back his son. Nobody could do that, but Nick had given him back the image of the son he wanted to remember. There were a lot of people who would probably applaud Nick for what he'd done, congratulate him on giving a grieving father the only peace of mind he could offer. Knowing that didn't help Nick feel any less sick about it, though, and it didn't make him any less angry.

It wasn't fair to compare Mr. Walker to his own parents; he'd never given his parents the chance to accept him when he was still living in Texas, and after he left it just didn't seem to matter. They didn't have much to do with his life anymore, and what they didn't know about him wouldn't hurt them. He'd never been open about it, not in college and certainly not when he was still a cop. He was smart enough to know his personal life could cost him his job if he wasn't careful, so he'd learned to hide that part of himself and after awhile it was almost second nature.

Knowing what Jessie and those other boys had been going through made it easier for him to sympathize with them, but it made it harder for him to live with the fact that he'd lied to make Jessie's father feel better. He kept telling himself he'd done it so he could get Jessie's computer, so they could catch the guy who did this and get some justice for those kids. He told himself that was all that mattered, and even though part of him believed it, there was a part of him that knew better.

That same part of him hated what he'd done, hated that he'd denied the one thing that tied him to Jessie and those other kids. They didn't deserve to die because of who they were, but when he'd lied to Jessie's father that was exactly what he'd been saying. No one would blame him for what he'd done, but that didn't matter because he couldn't stop blaming himself.

And the worst part was that they still didn't know much more about the case than they had that first night. If they were making some progress he was sure he'd feel better, but so far all they had was a few e-mails that might or might not be from the killer. With any luck Jessie's computer would tell them more, but if it didn't then they were at another dead end. Nick knew time was running out; Grissom wouldn't keep working the case much longer with nothing to go on, no matter how high-profile it was. Three dead gay kids was news, but it was the kind of news people wanted to forget about as quickly as possible.

Nick groaned and pushed himself away from the sink he'd been leaning against, putting his toothbrush back in his locker before he headed back out into the lab again. There was nothing else he could really do, but he couldn't just hang around and do nothing. He thought about telling Grissom he was sick and going home early, but the thought of being alone with his thoughts was worse than the thought of staring at old evidence for the rest of the night.

He headed down to the evidence room on automatic pilot, checking out the box that held what they had so far from the triple homicide. He looked through the boys' wallets again, making note of the concert ticket stub in Chris' wallet and a book of matches from the club where they'd died. He picked up Jessie's wallet last, turning it over before he unfolded it and looked inside.

The contents hadn't changed any since the inventory was made; a few dollars, a school I.D. and a library card, the fake I.D. he'd used to get into the club, and a picture of him and Chris that had been taken at one of those automatic photo booths. He set the wallet down and looked more closely at the picture, noting for the first time the way Jessie's hand rested on Chris' shoulder and the way they leaned into each other.

An image of the ballpoint heart on the cover of Jessie's notebook flashed in his mind, and Nick's throat tightened as he realized that they were dating. Maybe they were even in love, and Jessie's parents would never know. They'd never know their son was happy even though he'd had to hide who he was, that he'd found somebody who understood him. At least he looked happy in the picture, and Nick could barely reconcile that smiling face to the one he remembered from the alley.


What he didn't get was why Jessie and Chris were at the club in the first place; he was pretty sure now that they were a couple, and he knew the club where they were killed was a pick-up joint. He knew how they'd gotten in; guys who went to places like that liked boys like Jessie and his friends, and letting in underage kids attracted more paying customers for the club's owner. Getting that place shut down would take a lot more than three underage kids with decent fake I.D.s, but if Nick could find a way to put the club out of business he'd do it.

Right now, though, his first priority was finding the guy who killed those three boys. He tucked the picture back into Jessie's wallet and carefully put the evidence back in the box before he pulled his gloves off and headed down to the computer lab. He wasn't surprised to find Grissom already there, his head bent over one of the monitors as he watched the tech on duty typing something into the screen.

"Hey," Nick said when the other men looked up at him, "you get anything yet?"

"It looks like those e-mails we found on Chris' computer were forwarded from Jessie," Grissom answered. "Jessie also frequented a web site aimed at gay teenagers. Sort of a cyber-support group. That's all we've got so far."

Nick nodded and glanced at the screen, watching lines of code fly past for a few moments before he answered. "Listen, Gris, I'm not sure if it makes a difference to the case, but I'm pretty sure Jessie and Chris were an item."

"Judging by the e-mails on Jessie's hard drive I'd say you were right," Grissom answered, his expression a mixture of amusement and surprise. "May I ask what brought you to that conclusion?"

"There's a picture of the two of them in Jessie's wallet," Nick answered, "and when I was at his house I saw a notebook on Jessie's desk. He had Chris' initials outlined in a heart on the cover."

Grissom nodded, holding his gaze for another moment before he turned back to the screen. "Good work. Unfortunately that doesn't really help us figure out what they were doing at that club."


The way Grissom looked at him made Nick feel as though the older man was reading his mind again. He'd gotten that feeling once already tonight, when Grissom found him in the bathroom. He was pretty sure he didn't look as shaken up as he had then; at least he'd cleaned up a little and stopped shaking, but that didn't make him feel any better when Grissom was looking at him like he could see right through him.

"So do you think this internet group could have anything to do with the case?" Nick asked, glancing at the screen again only to find even more computer language he didn't understand.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Grissom answered without looking up. "Look, Nick, maybe you should go home. Shift's almost over, and you still don't look that good. Take tomorrow off, get some rest."

"I'm fine, Gris."

Grissom looked up at him then, and Nick knew before he even said it that there was no use arguing. Somehow he'd managed to become a liability in the investigation, and when Grissom looked at him like that he had a feeling the older man knew exactly why. "There's nothing more you can do here. You did a good job with Mr. Walker, Nick. Now go home and get some rest."

Nick didn't bother to answer; instead he nodded and turned toward the door, managing not to slam it on his way out of the lab. The rational part of him knew Grissom was right; there was nothing for him to do until they got all the information they could off Jessie's computer, but even if he went home he wasn't going to get any sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep at all since the case began, except for the two nights he'd spent in Greg's bed.

He was on his way back to the locker room when he passed Greg's lab, his footsteps slowing down automatically at the sight of the other man. As soon as he reached the door Greg looked up, and Nick could tell by the other man's expression that he looked just as bad as he felt. The only time he'd felt okay all week had been those two nights with Greg, and he wanted to feel that way again just for a little while. He just wanted to forget for awhile, and he knew there was only one way he'd be able to.

Before he realized he'd made the decision he was pushing open the door to the lab, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there was no one hanging around before he crossed the room and stopped next to Greg. He glanced down at the lab station long enough to note that Greg didn't seem to be busy, then he cleared his throat and looked up again.

"You okay?" Greg asked, his voice hesitant as though he was worried that Nick might not appreciate the concern. Not that Nick could blame him; he'd been avoiding the other man since the last time he woke up in Greg's bed, and he couldn't even use the case as an excuse. Hearing Greg's voice reminded him of how disgusted he was with himself, but it also reminded him of how easy it was to forget about everything when he was in Greg's bed.


He knew he shouldn't do it. He'd already told Greg it was over, and after that first day of awkward silence between them Greg seemed to accept it. Granted, Nick hadn't seen much of him around the lab, but when he had to go into Greg's lab the other man had been professional, if not his usual friendly self. Nick had told himself he could live with that, that it was best if they just kept their distance from now on. And yet here he was, and the last thing on his mind was keeping his distance.

"Yeah," he said, although he knew Greg could tell it was a lie just by looking at him. "You wanna get out of here a little early?"

For a second Greg looked surprised, then his expression shifted into a frown. "Look, Stokes…"

"What? You said yourself we have a good time together, right? So what's the problem?"

He hated himself a little more for doing it when he knew he shouldn't, but that didn't stop him from leaning forward and pressing his mouth to the mark he'd left on Greg's neck just a few days ago, tracing the slowly fading bruise with his tongue before he pulled back to look at Greg again. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice telling him that he shouldn't be doing this here, that anyone could walk by and if that happened it was all over. He couldn't make himself care, though, not when Greg's breathing picked up speed and his hand found its way to Nick's chest. Whether he'd meant to push him away or not Nick didn't care, because all Greg did was curl his fingers around Nick's shirt for a second before he remembered himself and let go.

"Nick, I…fuck it," Greg muttered, his cheeks flushing a flattering shade of red as he glanced over Nick's shoulder to make sure no one was watching from the hallway. "My place?"

"I'm right behind you," Nick answered, his grin returning as he pushed himself away from the lab station and into Greg's personal space. It was the same grin he'd used on Mr. Walker just before he'd lied to him, and his stomach twisted at the thought. As soon as it surfaced he shook it off, though, focusing all his attention on Greg as he followed the other man out of the lab and toward the parking lot.

"Shower," Greg said as soon as they stumbled through his apartment door. Nick nodded and let Greg pull him toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes from the front door all the way down the hall. He stepped out of his boxers as Greg turned on the shower, then let himself be pulled into the tub and under the warm stream of water.

It wasn't the first time he'd been in Greg's shower, but something about standing under the water with Greg made it feel strangely intimate. Greg was standing directly under the spray, head tilted back and his eyes closed against the water. For a second Nick was struck with the urge to run, to get out of Greg's apartment and out of his life before he did any more damage. Instead he found himself leaning forward, mouth against Greg's neck to catch a few stray drops of water on his tongue.


It was easy to forget why he'd just been thinking about leaving when Greg's arms slid around his waist, warm and wet and sliding up his back to pull him even closer. Fingers clutched at his skin, kneading at the tense muscles in his back as he worked his way from Greg's neck up to his mouth. Greg's lips parted easily under his, the kiss hot and wet and any second now Nick's legs were going to come out from under him. Greg must have felt him shake, because the next thing he knew he was pressed up against cool tile with a very slippery and enthusiastic Greg plastered to his chest.

Nick's hand slid into Greg's hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face as Greg took control of the kiss. He wasn't used to giving up control, not to anyone, but he'd been so tired for days and somehow it felt right just to let Greg take charge. It was easy, almost as though they'd been doing this forever and Greg knew exactly what he needed.

That thought sent a shiver through Nick, so he pressed back a little harder against the tiles and slid his free arm around Greg's waist. He splayed his fingers across the small of Greg's back, angling his hips up as he pulled the other man forward. Greg gasped against his mouth when their cocks slid together, pulling back to look at Nick while he slid his hands up the other man's chest.

Greg's hair was wet and flat against his scalp for once, and like this he looked even younger than usual. For a few endless moments he just watched Nick, his head tilted a little as though he was trying to make up his mind about something. Nick fought the urge to squirm under the other man's scrutiny, but before it got unbearable Greg leaned forward and pressed another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Nick started to pull him close again, but Greg pushed his hands gently away and reached for the shampoo sitting on the edge of the tub.

He poured a little shampoo into his hand and then pulled Nick away from the wall, smiling at Nick's puzzled expression. Nick opened his mouth to suggest they find something a little less soapy than shampoo to use as lube, but before he got the words out Greg was pulling him under the water, making sure his hair was thoroughly wet before he reached up and smoothed the shampoo through it. As soon as he realized what Greg was doing Nick tensed, but the combination of warm water against his skin and Greg's fingers massaging his scalp were soothing, and before long he was closing his eyes and tilting his head back a little more.

Warm kisses feathered his shoulders and the back of his neck as Greg worked the shampoo through his hair, and when he let out an involuntary moan Greg laughed against his skin. "Like that?"

Nick heard himself murmur something that wasn't actually a word, but it seemed to be good enough for Greg. Another kiss landed on the top of his spine, then Greg eased him back under the water and began rinsing his hair. It was over long before Nick was ready, but when Greg finally pulled his hands out of Nick's hair he turned and pulled Greg close again. He breathed in sharply when their lips met again, inhaling the scents of shampoo and Greg as he explored the other man's mouth.

He'd never actually shampooed anyone's hair before; his relationships with women had never been that domestic, and his relationships with guys…well, those couldn't even be termed 'relationships'. Something told him Greg was expecting him to reciprocate, though, so he reached for the shampoo and poured some into his own hand. It was a little strange at first, feeling the texture of someone else's hair under his fingers and learning how much pressure to apply before it became too much. But after awhile he got the hang of it, and if the appreciative noises Greg was making were any indication, he wasn't doing such a bad job.

It gave him something to focus on, anyway, and it meant he got to touch Greg as much as he wanted to. He finished rinsing Greg's hair and then pulled the other man back against his chest, mouthing his way along Greg's neck until he reached the slowly fading bruise he'd left behind the last time he was in Greg's bed. For a second his memory flashed to another, darker bruise against much paler skin, and he shivered and tightened his grip on Greg, squeezing his eyes shut until the memory faded.


When he opened his eyes again Greg was facing him; Nick hadn't even felt him move, and that was definitely a sign that he was letting this get way out of hand. He let Greg kiss him again anyway, soft and slow and making his heart beat a little faster. He didn't resist when Greg pulled away this time, and he didn't argue when Greg quickly washed them both off and then shut off the water.

They kissed slowly while Greg dried them both off; letting Greg take care of him left Nick feeling strangely off-balance, but when they made it to the bedroom and he pushed Greg back onto the mattress things shifted back into place. Nick stretched out next to him, starting with Greg's mouth and working his way down the other man's body. He lingered at the spots he knew made Greg pant and thrust up against him, taking his time kissing his way along Greg's ribs and running a wet tongue down the line of hair between his belly button and his cock.

He avoided Greg's erection entirely, smiling against the other man's thigh when Greg moaned and thrust his hips up a little. One hand curved around Greg's hip, pressing him back down onto the mattress as Nick mouthed kisses along the inside of his thigh. He inhaled the scent of Greg's arousal mingled with the soap Greg had used to clean them both, remembering for a second the flash of grief and the way his arms tightened around Greg as he struggled for control. As soon as the memory surfaced he shook his head to chase it away, refocusing his energy on the soft skin at the back of Greg's knee.

The body underneath his shivered when Nick's tongue found a particularly sensitive spot, and he opened his mouth and sucked at Greg's skin until the other man was twisting under him and begging for mercy. Nick relented with one last kiss, working his way slowly back up Greg's thigh. He used his free hand to nudge Greg's legs a little further apart, his own cock twitching when Greg moaned and bent his knees to give Nick better access. For a moment he stayed frozen, hovering just above Greg as he took in the open willingness of the body underneath him. He shivered with either fear or desire; he wasn't sure he could tell them apart anymore, but then Greg opened his eyes and it didn't matter.

Nick's heart skipped a beat at the intense look in Greg's eyes, and he had to look away before he gave in to the urge to crawl back up Greg's body and kiss him senseless. He didn't want to enjoy kissing Greg as much as he did; he didn't want to crave that sensation or the flutter in his stomach every time their lips met. Instead he slid his tongue along the underside of Greg's cock before he exhaled against damp skin. Greg shuddered and clutched the sheets a little tighter in anticipation, and when Nick's mouth closed around the tip of his cock Greg gasped and jerked up hard.

His grip tightened on Greg's hip, his other hand finding Greg's and entwining their fingers together. And Greg was strong – stronger than he looked – and his grip on Nick's fingers was enough to distract the other man from his own aching cock. He liked the way Greg twisted underneath him, liked the fact that it was him making Greg lose control. He liked Greg's openness, the way he anticipated what Nick needed and went along with whatever it was.

The suddenness of Greg's orgasm took them both by surprise, the bitter-salt taste on Nick's tongue and lips as he kept working his mouth along Greg's length, riding out the last of the shudders that rocked the other man's body. Finally he let Greg slip out of his mouth, pressing wet kisses up Greg's stomach and chest until he was stretched out on top of the other man. He supported his weight on one arm while he reached over Greg for the nightstand drawer, easing it open with one hand.

It didn't bother him as much as it should that he knew where Greg kept the condoms, and when he slid inside tight heat it felt familiar in a way he wasn't expecting. Greg was still breathing hard, but his arms wrapped tightly around Nick's back and his leg hooked around Nick's waist to hold him in place. He met each of Nick's thrusts, matching his speed even when Nick lost control and began to thrust more wildly.


He could hear Greg murmuring breathless words of encouragement, things like 'harder' and 'please' and 'oh God' all mixed up with his name and a few things Nick couldn't make out. Too late he remembered why he didn't usually do this face to face, why he'd promised himself after the last time he'd fucked Greg like this that it would never happen again. He told himself to close his eyes, to block out everything but the body underneath him and the tight heat gripping his cock. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not when he could see every emotion and every flash of pleasure in Greg's expression.

His neck was thrown back and elongated, giving Nick perfect access to sweat-slick skin. He leaned forward to run his tongue along Greg's neck, shifting just enough to hit Greg's prostate in the process. Greg gasped and clamped down on Nick's cock for a second, dragging a moan out of Nick as he thrust even harder. There was no way he could last, not with Greg's muscles clenching around him and his fingers digging into Nick's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises.

A few seconds later he was thrusting one last time, letting go with a broken sigh. He managed to slip out of Greg before he collapsed, rolling to the side so he wouldn't crush Greg under his weight. For awhile they just lay side by side, their harsh breathing the only sound in the room. Nick registered the distant sound of traffic outside, pictured people going about their days as though nothing was wrong. For a second he could almost believe that everything really was all right, that the past week was just a bad dream he couldn't quite manage to wake up from.

Greg moved first, warm lips brushing across Nick's shoulder before he reached down and carefully removed the condom. Nick watched the process with a kind of detached awareness, registering the fact that Greg was taking care of him again without really thinking about what it meant. He had a feeling it should bother him at least a little, but he was worn out and relaxed enough to sleep for the first time in days, and he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything; what he wanted to do was close his eyes and drift for awhile, and maybe when he woke up his life would make sense again.

He smiled when he felt Greg settle back down next to him, reaching out to card his fingers absently through Greg's hair. He was nearly asleep when Greg shifted again, warm skin sliding against Nick and bringing him closer to awareness. "How's the case going?"

"Hmm?" Nick murmured, not quite registering Greg's question.

"I heard they put you back on the triple homicide," Greg said, pushing himself up on one elbow to look down at Nick. Nick opened his eyes then, the peaceful drowsiness that had settled over him dissipating as soon as he realized what Greg was saying. "Heard they sent you to talk to one of the families."

"It was nothing," Nick lied, clamping down hard on the memory of Jessie Walker's untouched bedroom. "Gris wanted the kid's computer."

"Yeah, I heard about that too. Heard they found some e-mails or something that might help them come up with a suspect. Guess that means they might actually get me a DNA sample I can use."


An image of three dead kids appeared in Nick's mind and he shut his eyes tight against it, listening to the sound of his heart pounding against his ears until the image faded. He didn't want to think about that night, about collecting the DNA Greg hadn't been able to find a match for. He didn't want to think about the case at all, not when he'd just been feeling good for the first time in almost a week. There was no way he could get that back now, though, and now all he wanted to do was get up and find his clothes so he wouldn't have to listen to Greg talking about the case anymore.

"…about the kid's father," Greg was saying, and Nick's forehead furrowed as he forced his eyes open again. He had no idea what the first half of the sentence had been, but Greg didn't seem to notice that he'd lost Nick somewhere along the way. "I can't imagine that. I mean I waited until college to come out to my parents, but I knew they weren't gonna freak out about it. I have a feeling they figured it out before I did, to tell you the truth."

Slowly it dawned on Nick that Greg was talking about Jessie's father; he must have heard Warrick talking the same way Nick had, or maybe one of the other CSIs had been running their mouths about Mr. Walker's reaction to the news that his son was gay. Only Nick had taken care of that problem for him, and his stomach turned when he remembered the look on the other man's face as Nick sat in his living room and lied.

"Still," Greg continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having on Nick, "that would be a hell of a way to find out that you'd never really known your kid at all."

Nick didn't answer; he closed his eyes again, breathing in and then out again methodically, focusing on the sound of his breathing so he wouldn't have to listen to the sound of Greg's voice. All he could think was that he'd taken away Jessie Walker's identity; the kid was dead, he didn't have anything left to lose, and Nick had taken away his last chance to let his parents know the truth. Mr. Walker would never accept his own son because Nick had given him the perfect excuse not to.

He didn't notice when Greg stopped talking, and he didn't feel it when Greg moved again. He nearly forgot that Greg was still in the bed with him until he felt fingers brushing his cheek and heard Greg's voice, soft and far-away like he was whispering to Nick from the end of a tunnel.

"Hey," Greg murmured, his fingers brushing rhythmically along Nick's cheek, "Nick…I'm sorry."

Nick wanted to ask why he was apologizing, but he was distracted by the dampness of Greg's fingers on his face. He wondered idly how Greg's hands had gotten wet, but before he could ask Greg was leaning forward, kissing his cheeks and then his eyes. When Greg's mouth found his Nick tasted salt, and when a hard lump formed in his throat he realized for the first time that he'd been crying.

Nick spent the next two days trying and failing to forget everything that happened at Greg's place. He didn't remember falling asleep in Greg's bed, but he remembered waking up with Greg's arm still wrapped securely around his waist as Greg drooled against his shoulder in his sleep. For a second it was almost cute, but as soon as he woke up enough to remember the night before he stopped thinking about how cute Greg looked and started thinking about how fast he could get out of there.

It was the first time he'd ever felt guilty about leaving before the other person woke up; usually he figured he was doing them both the favor of sparing them the awkward morning after routine, but with Greg…with Greg all the rules changed. He'd tried telling himself it was because they worked together, but that didn't explain why he'd spent his entire day off stopping himself from driving back to Greg's place. There was just something about the way he felt when they were together, the way Greg kissed him like they had all the time in the world.


Greg had kissed him for a long time after he broke down over the case. He hadn't tried to talk about it anymore; maybe he could tell Nick couldn't take it, or maybe he was just afraid Nick wouldn't bother to wait until he fell asleep to run out on him. He had no idea how long they'd stayed awake after that, kissing and touching and eventually bringing each other off again with long, slow strokes. It wasn't until Greg finally wrapped his fingers around Nick's cock that he realized it was the first time Greg had touched him that way, and every time he thought about it now he was left with the aching knowledge that it would be the last time.

There was no way Greg was ever going to sleep with him again after the way Nick had acted. He told himself it was for the best, that he'd screwed up their working relationship enough already and the sooner they forgot all of this the better off they'd both be. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn't stop wanting Greg. And worse, he couldn't stop remembering the way he'd fallen apart right in front of him.

He thought having the next day off would make it better, but the more time that passed the worse he felt about taking off without an explanation. It was a cowardly thing to do, and lately he'd been taking the coward's way out a lot. Thinking about it made him nauseous, but he couldn't not think about it, so he'd spent the past twenty-four hours alternating between hating himself and trying not to throw up.

Part of him wanted to go back to work just so he could throw himself into whatever case Grissom assigned him and forget about his own problems for awhile. But there was another part of him that didn't want to go anywhere near the crime lab, because he knew he'd run into Greg eventually. He wasn't even sure which he was more afraid of – that Greg would try to talk to him, or that he wouldn't want to.

He had a case to focus on, though, and with any luck they'd found something on Jessie's computer that would help solve it. Nick pulled his I.D. around his neck and closed his locker door, taking a deep breath before he forced himself out into the lab. There was a tension in the air, different than the usual energy brought on by cases to be solved and too much caffeine. He couldn't quite put his finger on what had changed, but as he made his way to the break room for assignments he couldn't help tensing a little in anticipation of whatever was about to happen.

Maybe that was why he didn't notice Greg until the other man was right in front of him. And he should have known that Greg wouldn't try to avoid him; he just wasn't that kind of guy, not when he thought he had something to offer. What Greg thought he could do for Nick he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling it involved a lot more talking than Nick was ready to deal with.

"Hey."


"Hey," Nick echoed, tensing even more at the sound of Greg's voice. It was a little too low and a little too reminiscent of the last time Greg had talked to him, quiet and soothing and whispering things Nick didn't want to remember in the harsh lights of the crime lab. "Listen, G, I've gotta get in there before Gris blows a gasket…"

He gestured lamely toward the break room, but Greg ignored it and leaned in a little closer. "So are we gonna talk about this or what? It's okay, you know. Totally understandable."

Nick frowned, confusion marring his features as he tried to decide what exactly Greg was getting at. He wasn't sure whether Greg thought he was embarrassed about crying in front of him or if he was just trying to let Nick off the hook for leaving without saying goodbye, but either way they both knew it was inexcusable. That was the whole point; Nick took off so he wouldn't have to have this conversation at all, and Greg was either too stubborn or too stupid to take a hint. A heavy sigh escaped his throat and he ran his hands over his face, part of him hoping that when he looked up again Greg would be gone.

He'd never been that lucky, though, and when he opened his eyes again Greg was still watching him, his jaw set in a determined line. Something about the way Greg was looking at him made Nick want to lean forward and kiss him, force that jaw to relax until they both forgot what it was they were supposed to be talking about. But he couldn't do it, not here where the entire lab could see them. Besides, he had a feeling it wouldn't work this time, and even if he thought it would he knew he didn't have the right.

"Greg…" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, and suddenly this whole situation felt way too intimate. He could feel the ghost of Greg's hands on him, feel the warmth of the water from Greg's shower and Greg's mouth kissing his tears away. His cock stirred in response to the memories and he felt his skin heating up; he'd never felt so out of control in his life, and he knew if he kept standing there he was going to say something he'd regret.

Greg was waiting for him to say something, to come up with some excuse or maybe an apology that would make everything okay again. And part of Nick wished he could, that he could find the words to make it all right so they could go back to whatever they'd been before all this happened. Only Greg didn't want to go back, that much was obvious, and Nick couldn't give him what he wanted. He swallowed a sigh and opened his mouth, intent on giving Greg the 'it's been fun, but…' speech for the second time, but before he got the words out he heard footsteps behind him.

He straightened up automatically, pulling himself back together with the ease of long practice. He glanced over his shoulder, forcing a casual smile when he saw Catherine headed toward him. "Hey, Cath," he said, hoping he sounded at least close to normal.

"Hey," she echoed, casting a quick, curious glance at Greg before she turned back to Nick. "I take it you haven't heard."

"Heard what?" Nick asked, his shoulders tensing again for an entirely different reason. Instantly his mind switched gears, and he forgot all about his problems with Greg as he waited for Catherine to deliver whatever news she had about the case.


"They brought somebody in," Catherine answered. "They extracted some deleted e-mails from Jessie Walker's server and traced them all to someone who claimed to be working for a teen outreach group. Brass and Grissom are questioning him now."

"They think this is the guy?" Nick asked, already falling into step with Catherine as she started down the hall again.

"Hey, Stokes."

As soon as he heard Greg's voice Nick froze and glanced over his shoulder. Greg was still leaning against the doorframe where Nick had found him, but his expression this time was unreadable. Nick had only seen him like that one other time, and that time he'd pushed Nick bodily out of his lab. At the time Nick hadn't really paid attention, but now he swallowed a wave of regret. "I gotta do this," Nick said, wincing at the apology in his voice that he was sure Catherine heard just as clearly as Greg did. "I'll catch you later."

He pushed the guilt as far back as it would go and turned to follow Catherine out of the building, willing himself to focus on the details of the case and not the look on Greg's face when he'd walked away. This was what he needed to do; Greg knew it as well as he did, he couldn't fault Nick for that. They both had jobs to do, and Nick needed…he needed to see this guy with his own eyes. Even if he didn't get to interrogate him, he needed to be there so he could see for himself whether or not this guy was the one responsible. Greg had to understand that, just like he had to know that Nick was grateful for everything Greg had done for him. And he was, even if he wasn't any good at showing it.

There would be time for that later, though, after this case was over and he and Greg were back to normal. Once Nick was back on even ground again he could tell Greg that he appreciated it, that he was sorry for the way things went down. Greg was a smart guy, he'd understand why Nick needed to see this case through. It wasn't about avoiding what had happened between them or being embarrassed about crying in front of Greg. He wasn't that big a jerk, no matter what Greg thought of him right now. He just needed to do this, needed to see this case through so he could get back to normal.

Fifteen minutes later he and Catherine were standing shoulder to shoulder, a heavy silence hanging between them as they watched Grissom lay out the evidence for the suspect on the other side of the glass. Nick had been through this hundreds of times – on both sides of the glass – and he knew the suspect never looked the way they expected him to. He knew better than to expect a real live monster sitting in the chair across from Grissom, complete with horns and breathing fire. He'd told himself a hundred times over the past week that when they found him he'd be somebody normal, that he'd look just like anybody else on the street.

Knowing that never made it any less jarring when he actually saw the suspect for himself, though, and this time the normalcy of the situation hit him even harder. The guy looked so weak; he was thin and a little gaunt, as though he wasn't used to eating regularly. He definitely wasn't a match for three healthy seventeen-year-olds, which explained the sedatives they'd found in the boys' systems.


Anger flashed hot in Nick's chest as he played out the scene in his head along with Grissom's narrative; Jessie reaching out to someone he thought was a peer counselor, a guy who claimed to be just a few years older than him. A few e-mails back and forth, an invitation for Jessie and his friends to come to the club, promises that their 'new friend' could get them in. He told them it would be good for them, help them feel like there was somewhere they belonged, somewhere they could fit in and just be themselves for awhile.

The e-mails stopped when Jessie finally agreed on a date and time, but it was pretty easy to fill in the blanks after that. Nick knew the club owner and his staff were nervous enough about losing their liquor license to give a positive I.D., and then all they had to do was match the guy's DNA to the evidence he'd left behind at the crime scene. He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly arrogant, but it didn't really matter which, because there was no way he was going to get off. They had him, and as soon as Grissom took a swab and sent it back to the lab the case would be closed.

He had to stop himself from volunteering to run the swab back to Greg. He wanted to do something, anything besides stand on the other side of the glass with his hands clenched into fists and his arms crossed over his chest. He was so tense he thought he might snap if he didn't do something, but going back to the lab and dealing with Greg when he felt like this was a bad idea. So he let Catherine do it, ignored the look she gave him before she left and told himself she didn't know what was wrong. She couldn't; despite what she thought, she wasn't any more of a mind reader than Grissom, and neither of them knew what was really going on in his head.

Greg rushed the DNA results through at record speed, and by the time the night shift was over Allan Keene had been booked on three counts of murder. Nick watched the entire process, lingering at the station and shadowing Brass while he finalized the details of the arrest. Grissom had gone back to the lab hours ago, doing his part to solidify evidence from there. Nick knew Grissom could have ordered him to go back to the lab, put him on another case to keep him busy for the rest of the night.

Either Grissom didn't notice or he figured letting Nick hang around the station would keep him out of Grissom's hair, but either way he didn't say anything. So Nick waited around, pretending he didn't notice the weird looks Brass shot at him every so often. He wasn't even sure what he was waiting for; they had the guy, all the evidence pointed to him and the DNA results were just the final nail in his coffin. There was no reason for Nick to wait around, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen.


He kept waiting for it, all night long and into the morning he waited for that feeling to hit him. Whenever they solved a case there was always a point after all the evidence was gathered when Nick felt a sense of justice, that satisfying feeling of a job well done. No matter how brutal the case was or how much death he'd waded through, he always felt a little better about it when they caught the person responsible.

This time shouldn't have been any different; it should have been better, in fact, because he'd taken this case a lot harder than he usually did. So he waited in the station, watching them book Keene and lead him away to a holding cell. He went over the evidence again just to make it more real in his mind, read the e-mails Jessie and Chris had sent back and forth about the guy from the support group. He read the whole conversation over and over again, his heart sinking a little more each time he got to the end and Jessie and Chris still decided to go through with it.

He knew he couldn't change the outcome just by reading those e-mails, but that didn't make it any easier to live with the knowledge. He couldn't change any of the details of the case, not the way those boys had died or the fact that they were dead because of some sick bastard who hated himself so much he had to take it out on innocent kids. He couldn't take back any of the things he'd done wrong in this case, not lying to Jessie's father or using Greg to try and forget.

By the time the DNA results came back and Keene was formally charged Nick should have felt better, he should have at least felt a little sense of relief that they'd closed the case and found some justice for the families of the victims. Only that sense of justice never came, and by the time he got back to the lab he felt even worse. He'd been telling himself for over a week now that he'd feel better when the case was closed, but as he walked back into the lab his stomach turned and he had to force his legs to carry him down the hall.

He was almost to the locker room when Grissom caught up with him, frowning instantly when he caught sight of Nick's expression. "Nick," he said, sounding almost surprised to see the other man, "you look terrible."

"Thanks, Gris," Nick shot back, grimacing when his boss raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm just wiped out."

The truth was that he didn't know what was wrong with him; he'd done what he was supposed to do, they'd all done their jobs and they'd solved the case. He couldn't bring those kids back to life no matter how much he wanted to, and beating himself up about it wasn't going to do anybody any good. He couldn't even make things right with Jessie's father, because he'd planted the seed of doubt and he knew even if he went back there and told Mr. Walker the truth the other man wouldn't believe him.

He didn't want to believe the truth, and sometimes what people wanted to believe was a lot more important than what they needed to know. Or maybe that was just the excuse Nick had come up with so he wouldn't have to go over there and face Jessie's father again. It didn't matter anymore, because the damage was done and there was nothing Nick could do to fix it.

"If you're still sick you should go home," Grissom said, and Nick had to work hard not to roll his eyes. Shift was over and they were all headed home, but pointing out the obvious to Grissom wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Maybe you should take a few days. Rest, pull yourself together."


Nick was skilled enough in Gris-speak by now to hear the truth behind the concern: You're way too wrapped up in your own problems, Nick. You're no good to me until you get your head screwed back on straight. He wanted to laugh at that last word, but it wasn't even close to funny. He wasn't sure anything in his life had ever been less funny, as a matter of fact, and he had no idea how he was supposed to 'pull himself together'. Knowing what the hell was wrong with him would be a good start, but he hadn't even been able to figure that out. And the worst part was that it wasn't just affecting his job, it was affecting the people around him. He'd managed somehow to make Grissom and Greg think he was a basket case, and he was sure other people were starting to notice.

"I'm fine," he heard himself say, managing not to wince at the edge in his voice.

Grissom's expression let him know that the older man hadn't missed it, and when he spoke again it was in that tone of his that told Nick this was an argument he wasn't going to win. "Go home, Nick. Take some time off. Come back fresh."

Nick knew what that meant; figure out how to fix whatever's wrong with you or don't bother coming back at all. He nodded anyway, letting out a deep breath when Grissom finally dropped his gaze and headed back to his office. For a few seconds he just stood in the middle of the hall, one hand on the back of his neck while he waited for his head to stop spinning. He had no idea what had just happened; they'd solved the case, the right guy was in a holding cell down at the station and all was right with the world. Only the sick, gnawing emptiness in the pit of his stomach was still there, and apparently Nick couldn't even do his job anymore.


When he realized he was still standing in the middle of the hall he forced himself to move, his legs heavy as he made his way to the locker room and sat down on the bench in front of the row of lockers. He took his time pulling off his I.D. and then his shirt, tossing both in his locker before he reached for a fresh shirt and pulled it on. Everything felt wrong, like he was moving in slow motion or time had somehow slowed down while he wasn't looking. And there was still that nagging feeling in the back of his mind like he'd left something unsettled, only he didn't know what it was.

He sighed and made his way out of the locker room, his mind still swimming. Solving the case hadn't erased his memories of that night in the alley; he hadn't really expected it to, but he'd been hoping catching the guy responsible would make it easier to stop thinking about it. Instead he kept seeing those three faces even more now, over and over in his mind's eye as he made his way out to the parking lot. By the time he reached the door his heart was racing, and when he stepped outside he breathed in sharply and had to cough against the sudden stinging in his lungs.

It took a few moments for the coughing fit to subside, and when he finally looked up he realized for the first time that he wasn't alone. His heart skipped a beat when he found Greg watching him, his expression unreadable and his mouth set in that same grim line Nick had seen earlier. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Nick answered, but his voice was hoarse and he was sure his face was red. "Just swallowed wrong or something."

Greg nodded shortly and turned away, but as soon as Nick realized he was actually leaving he started moving. He didn't remember making the decision to go after Greg, but before he knew it his hand was on the other man's shoulder and he was turning Greg to face him. "Sanders, wait."

Greg flinched under his hand and pulled free, and Nick didn't try to stop him. He didn't have the right – didn't even have any reason to stop Greg, really. He had no idea what he wanted to say, but he felt like he should say something. "Look," he continued, "I'm sorry about earlier, all right?"

Greg shrugged and looked away, and Nick tried to ignore the hollow ache in his stomach. "Forget it. You don't wanna talk about it, I got the message. I've gotta go, I have someplace to be."

"Wait," he said again when Greg started toward his Jeep. He still didn't have a clue what he was going to say or even why he was bothering; Greg had just let him off the hook, so he should just accept it and get on with his life. Only Greg wouldn't even look at him, and everything still felt all wrong. "It's just the case…"


"I know all about the case," Greg interrupted, his features twisting into an uncharacteristic scowl. "I know exactly how much it's eating at you. I was there the other night, remember? I've been there since this whole thing started, did you think I was gonna miss that? I'm not stupid, Nick, I know what's going on here. So don't tell me you're sorry or that this is all because of the case. If you can't handle it that's fine, but at least have the balls to say it."

Nick flinched involuntarily, but he managed not to take a step backwards. He'd expected Greg to be pissed, but he hadn't expected that. And maybe he deserved it, but Greg was the one who'd started this whole thing. He'd known going into this that it didn't mean anything, that Nick was just blowing off steam. So they'd slept together a few more times than either of them had probably planned; it didn't make any difference.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, surprised to find that he really wanted to know the answer. He hadn't given much thought to what Greg wanted since this whole thing started, but now that he'd said it he couldn't help wondering. "You said yourself that we were just having a good time, right?"

Something like a sharp, bitter laugh escaped Greg's throat, and just for a second when he looked up Nick could read exactly what he was thinking. Then he blinked and it was gone, and Nick was left wondering if he'd just imagined the flash of emotion. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm not having such a good time anymore."

Nick didn't try to stop him this time. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to, because he knew if he did Greg would say something he wasn't ready to hear. Maybe he'd known all along that this was more than just two friends messing around, at least for Greg. The problem was that he didn't know what it had been for him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it to be something different now. He wasn't even sure that was possible, because Greg had made it pretty clear that the time for negotiation was past.

He waited until Greg was out of the parking lot before he got in his own car and started the engine. For a second he considered following Greg home, forcing an end to whatever they'd been doing all week. He wasn't sure what else there was to say, though, and even if he knew he wasn't sure he could get Greg to listen. 

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• C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season