Title :: Live Like You Were Dying
Author :: kissingchaos9
Fandom :: CSI: Vegas
Rating :: R
Pairing :: Nick/Greg
A/N :: Written for the CSI Lyrical Twin Challenge. Thanks to beingothrwrldly and an_sceal, as always.

***

Faith has been broken,
Tears must be cried,
Let's do some living,
After we die...
[The Sundays, "Wild Horses"]






It's cliché, he figures, but being buried alive has given Nick an amazing new appreciation for life. He had a lot of time to think in the long nights after they found him, when he would lie awake and stare at the flickering light above his bed, trying to sleep and failing.

He almost died. In a way, a part of him did, and he feels…different. Changed, reborn, invincible and terrified. Grissom gave him two months off, refused to let him argue, and he's been seeing a counselor and his mother calls every day and he's talked and talked and talked about it, and no one seems to believe him, but he's fine. He's alive, he's breathing and walking and living, living and breathing and living, and he's just so fucking grateful to be alive. How could he not be?

But he's different. He feels it. Something inside has been rearranged, the way his brain functions has been altered slightly. He thinks maybe this is how Peter Parker or Clark Kent felt after they realized they were superheroes. Not that he thinks he's a superhero. He knows he's not indestructible, and he's vividly aware of just how mortal he is, but he feels…stronger. He's changed, yes. He has panic attacks sometimes, and he's on medication, but he's stronger.

He meant what he said to Kelly Gordon. He doesn't blame her, and he doesn't want her to take it with her. He thinks people expect him to wear it like a badge, a T-shirt that says "I got buried alive by a madman. Approach with caution." Everyone handles him with kid gloves, as though he's a glass figurine that's been broken and glued back together. But he's not. It's honestly not the first time he's stared death in the face, and although it's the closest he's ever come to dying, he's not dead, but he feels like he's the only one who knows that. Sometimes, with everyone tiptoeing and whispering around him, he feels like a ghost.

Which is why he's been spending so much time with Greg. Greg doesn't stop him every five minutes to ask if he's all right. Greg's friends don't treat him like a broken child. When he has a panic attack, Greg sits with him and helps him breathe and gets him cool rags, but he doesn't fuss, and when it's over and Nick is shaky and clammy, Greg sits on the other end of the couch and flips though the channels until Nick is okay. When Nick tells Greg that he's okay, Greg believes him.

And there's something else about Greg, something about the way Greg makes Nick feel that Nick has ignored forever, but now that they're spending pretty much every day together it's getting har—more difficult, and Nick hasn't quite figured out what to do about it. He's thinking but not thinking, watching but not watching SportsCenter when the phone jars him out of his own mind.

Nick flips open his phone without checking the caller-ID. "Stokes."

"Hey, uh, hey Nick. It's Greg."

"Oh, hey, G. What's up?" Nick wedges the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he mutes the television.

"I, uh, I've got the night off, tonight? And there's this concert downtown, and some of us were going, and I've got an extra ticket and I thought you might enjoy it, so I was wondering if you wanted to come. With me. To the concert?"

Nick raises an eyebrow, even though Greg can't see him. "You're going to a concert that you think I might enjoy? Who's playing?"

"Hank Williams, Jr.?" Greg's voice is ... different, and Nick wonders why all his sentences sound like questions.

"You're going to see Hank?" Nick hears Greg laugh and smiles. "C'mon, man, it's surprising."

"I'm a man of many surprises, Nick," Greg responds, and there's something in his voice that makes Nick blush. "So, you interested?"

For a second, Nick can't tell if Greg is talking about the concert or the surprises, but he clears his throat and answers, "Yeah, I'm interested." Nick thinks he can hear Greg smiling through the phone. "Just tell me where to meet you, and what time."

"Uh, actually, I'll pick you up. The concert starts at ten, so I was thinking I could come by around seven and maybe we could grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, that works." Nick checks the clock, making sure he has enough time to shower and change. "See you at seven, man."

"Great. It's a date." Greg hangs up before Nick can respond. He isn't entirely sure what's going on, but there was something funny about Greg's voice on the phone, and Nick is halfway to the bathroom when Greg's words finally sink in.



…




He couldn't have actually meant date, as in date, because that's ridiculous. Nick's almost convinced himself, he really has, but there's a part of him, the part that he generally ignores, that thinks maybe that's exactly what he meant. It's dinner, and a concert, and he's picking you up at your place, the voice keeps repeating, and he's having entirely too much trouble deciding what shirt to wear.

This is ridiculous, he tells himself, and picks a maroon button-down and throws it on before he can change his mind again. He heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth and runs a hand through his hair. It's growing out, he notices, and he hasn't decided whether to let it grow or not. He's still contemplating when the doorbell rings. He fastens his watch and checks the time, surprised that it's only ten till seven because Greg has never been early for anything in his life. He opens the door, and the 'wow' is past his lips before he can even process it.

Greg grins. "What?"

"You're early," Nick covers feebly. "Ten minutes by normal standards, twenty-five minutes by Greg Sanders Time."

"Yeah." Greg's voice is…deeper, like their phone conversation but different still from that, and Nick tries not to think about how it makes him feel. "So, you ready?"

"Uh, yeah, just let me put my shoes on." Nick turns and walks into the living room, sitting down and sliding on one cowboy boot. His cheeks are burning, and he hopes Greg believes the line about punctuality, but the truth is, Greg looks good. Amazing, even, and it feels like a date and Nick thinks his brain is gloating.

He stands and walks to the front door, where Greg is leaning against the doorjamb smiling. "Ready?"

Nick nods and follows Greg out the door, locking it behind him. Greg has parked his car behind Nick's truck, so Nick assumes that Greg is driving. He climbs into the passenger seat and they pull away silently.

"So, are we meeting everyone at the restaurant?"

Greg grimaces a little. "Uh, no. Not exactly. There's no one else."

Nick frowns, confused. "I thought you said--"

"Yeah, I might've lied. I mean, there is a concert, and we are going to dinner, but not exactly as a group, per se. More like a… nongroup. A duo. A, uh, couple, if you will."

Nick's brain is screaming DATEDATEDATEDATE and he notices that Greg is gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. He turns in his seat a little. "A couple of…friends?"

"If that's what you want it to be, sure." Greg takes a deep breath, and it reminds Nick to breathe, as well. "Look, Nick, the answer to that question really depends on you. 'Cause if you want this to be a boys-night-out-friend kinda thing, then great, that's what it'll be. But I've been flirting with you for pretty much ever, and certain recent events have caused me to reevaluate my life and my relationships, and I decided that if I didn't make some sort of move nothing was ever going to happen." Greg pauses to breathe and Nick wonders how long he practiced that speech. "So, we can be friends, if that's what you want, or we can be more than friends. Which is what I want. It's up to you."

Greg sneaks a quick glance over at Nick, and when their eyes meet he blushes a little and turns his attention back to the road. Nick straightens his body in his seat and stares out the windshield.

On the one hand, he had been right. It was a date, and there was something different about Greg. On the other hand, though, now that he knew that for sure, he wasn't really sure how to react to it. And on an unseen third hand, Greg had been flirting with him?

"You've been flirting with me?"

Greg laughs. "Well, it's nice that you are just that oblivious, and that it's not because I've lost my touch or anything. Man, I've done everything I know to do to let you know that I'm interested in you without actually coming out and saying I'm interested in you. And I didn't really want to say anything, 'cause our friendship is really important to me and these last couple of weeks have been awesome, but I've been talking Tegan's ear off about it and she told me it was either put up or shut up, and I don't even know if you do guys—okay, not, like, do, but—shit. You know what? I'm going to shut up now, we're going to pretend this conversation never happened, because I have royally fuck—"

"Greg."

Nick steels his jaw to keep from laughing. He's never known anyone, in Vegas or Texas or anywhere else, who talks as much as Greg, and the only way to get a word in edgewise is to force it.

Greg looks over at Nick. "Hmm?"

"Pull over."

Greg frowns, eyes wide. "Right. Uh, okay." Greg pulls over into the parking lot of a closed record store, turns the car off and turns sideways in his seat. "Look, Nick, I didn't mean anything by it, I just--"

"Greg. Shut up."

Greg's eyes widen marginally. "Right."

Nick leans on the console between their seats and smiles. "You were making me nervous. I just wanted to talk to you for a second." Greg exhales shakily and nods. "I-- I'm not very good at this. I haven't had a date in so long, I honestly can't remember the last guy's name. And I'm so far into the closet I can see Narnia."

"Actually, that was a wardrobe." Nick frowns and Greg smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"I'm not very good at this," Nick continues pointedly. "But, I-- Ah, fuck it."

He's never been much of a talker, really, and he's definitely much more of a doer, so instead of searching for minutes trying to find the words, Nick decides that the easiest course of action would be to lean across the console, wrap one hand around the back of Greg's neck and kiss him.

So he does, and the angle is awkward and Greg tastes faintly of cigarette smoke but his mouth is warm and soft, and when Greg wraps his fist in Nick's shirt just above his hip all he can think is God, so good and why haven't we been doing this all along?

Greg makes a noise, a moan from the back of his throat, that vibrates through Nick's mouth and directly to his groin and he can't help responding in kind. He fists his hand into the hair at the nape of Greg's neck and pulls their mouths closer, and he forgets everything except Greg's hand on his hip and Greg's tongue in his mouth, and when Greg pulls away suddenly the loss of contact is jarring. He slides his tongue along Greg's jaw, desperately wanting to maintain contact.

"Nick. Nick, we--ah--we, um, we should maybe not be making out in an empty parking lot. We are law enforcement officials, after all."

Nick grins into the side of Greg's neck. "So, dinner then?"

Greg runs his palm up Nick's side and around his shoulder. "I'm really not all that hungry, actually. And I'm on a diet, so."

Nick laughs and kisses Greg quickly on the side of the mouth. "It's only seven thirty. What're we gonna do until the concert?"

"We could go back to your place." Greg's eyes are glowing and all Nick can do is nod.

Greg starts the car and pulls away from the store, and even though Nick thinks Greg is definitely speeding it's still the longest five-minute car ride of his life. They barely make it to the house, out of the car and into the front door before Nick is pressing Greg into the wall, sliding his hands up the sides of Greg's shirt and kissing him frantically.

"Wait, wait," Greg interrupts breathlessly, and suddenly Nick's back is against the wall and Greg's hands are pressing against his chest. "I've been thinking about this forever," he whispers, unbuttoning Nick's shirt and trailing open-mouthed kisses along Nick's neck. He slides his hands into Nick's shirt and pushes it back off his shoulders, kissing along Nick's clavicle and dragging his fingertips down Nick's arms.

"God, Greg." Nick grabs Greg's hips to pull him closer, snaking his hands under Greg's shirt and pulling it up over Greg's head, tossing it aside. Nick wraps his arms around Greg's back and pulls him closer, reveling in the feeling of his skin against Greg's. He sucks on the soft skin of Greg's shoulder and Greg slides the back of his fingers along Nick's stomach so lightly it almost tickles. He dips his fingers into the waistband of Nick's jeans, moving to unbuckle his belt, and when he unzips them and drags a finger along the length of Nick's cock, Nick gasps.

Greg grins as he slides his hand into Nick's boxers and wraps it around Nick's cock. He leans forward, tightening his grip, and trails his tongue along Nick's bottom lip. Greg glides his thumb over the tip and sucks Nick's lip into his mouth, and Nick's toes curl.

Greg laughs softly, moving his hand agonizingly slow. "Isn't this the part where you tell me to stop, that we can't do this because we work together?"

Nick grabs Greg's shoulder and crushes their bodies together. "Fuck, no. Don't stop."

Greg laughs again, tracing his tongue down Nick's neck. "Good. Cause I wasn't planning on stopping." He works his mouth down Nick's chest, circling Nick's belly button with his tongue, and suddenly Greg's on his knees, Nick's pants are around his ankles, and Greg is licking painfully slow lines up the length of Nick's cock.

Nick presses the back of his head against the wall so hard it aches, fighting the urge to grab the back of Greg's head. Greg trails his fingertips along the inside of Nick's thighs, wrapping his lips around the head of Nick's cock and sucking lightly, making Nick's hips buck involuntarily. The back of his head hurts and his heart is pounding in his ears. Greg is working his mouth up and down, sucking harder and twirling his tongue, and Nick slams his palms against the wall.

"Fuck, Greg." He struggles to breathe but every time he inhales it's more like a gasp, and Greg's hands on his balls and mouth on his cock feel so fucking good he's afraid he's going to pass out. He sets a hand on the top of Greg's head, working through his hair to the back of his neck, pressing his back flat against the wall to ground himself, to keep himself from flying into a thousand pieces. Greg moans appreciatively and Nick feels the vibration in every inch of his body. The warmth tingles in his fingers and toes, spreading through every clenched muscle in his body, and he squeezes Greg's shoulder to let him know he's close. He feels like he's on fire, like every nerve ending in his body is electrified, and Greg twists his mouth and presses a finger into the skin behind Nick's balls and suddenly he's coming, legs shaking and back arching, calling Greg's name.

His ass hits the wall with a dull thud. His legs are shaking so hard they're vibrating, and apparently they're no longer capable of functioning as legs anymore, and he slides down the wall, barely registering when the cold tile. Greg leans forward and kisses him, and Nick tastes like salt and sweat and Greg and himself, and a warmth pools in his belly.

"Well, that was better than the dinner I had planned, at any rate." Greg grins and Nick can't not smile back. There's something about Greg that's infectious, Nick's always known it, something almost ethereal, and all Nick leans forward and wraps his arms around Greg, kissing his neck. "Did you still want to try and make the concert?"

"Ah, yeah, no. Not so much. Unless..." Greg trails off, gesturing to Nick, and Nick shakes his head.

"I don't know if I could stand, even if I wanted to." Nick touches the side of Greg's face, his neck, his shoulder, and all he wants to do is touch Greg, kiss him and feel him and smell him and be with him.

"Think you can make it to the bedroom, maybe?"

"I don't know, G. I'm pretty comfortable."

Greg stands up quickly, and Nick whimpers a little, despite himself. "C'mon, I'll help." Greg takes him by the hand and pulls Nick up with surprising strength. Nick steps out of his jeans and boxers, leaving them in the hall, and follows Greg into the bedroom. Greg sheds his shirt and jeans quickly as Nick collapses backwards onto the bed. Greg crawls in next to him, curling up beside him. He struggles to keep his eyes open, but every inch of him is exhausted and he's so comfortable with Greg warm against his side, he just wants...

"Greg." His voice is barely a whisper.

"Shh." Greg moves his lips to Nick's ear and kisses softly. "Sleep now. Talk later." Greg nuzzles into the side of Nick's neck, his breath warm against Nick's skin, and Nick falls asleep with Greg's hand on his heart.

***