Title: Dear Diary
Author: Lament
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Fandom: CSI
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.
Author's Notes: This is just a goofy little fic. It takes place during Season 3, prior to "Playing with Fire."
Summary: Greg finds Nick's diary.

***

"Give it to me, Greg!"

Nick stood on one side of the bed, while Greg stood safely on the other, smirking at his own cleverness. Glowering, Nick tried to gauge the likelihood that he would be able to make it around or across the bed before Greg had a chance to escape out the door.

Greg crossed his arms. "Not gonna happen, Nicky."

"Greg," Nick said, in what he hoped was a menacing voice. "Tell me where you hid my diary right now."

Leaning across the bed, Greg blew a kiss. "Guess!"

Taking advantage of Greg's proximity, Nick grabbed Greg by the collar of his t-shirt and yanked him forward, causing Greg to lose his balance and tumble face-down onto the bed. Letting out a victory whoop, Nick jumped onto the bed and clamped one hand down on Greg's back. When Greg tried to squirm out of his grip, Nick swung one of his legs over Greg's legs, locking him in place.

"You're mine, Sanders," Nick said.

Greg twisted his head around until he could see Nick. "Well," he said. "That goes without saying."

Nick shot Greg his most dangerous—at least Nick hoped it was dangerous—look. "Where did you put my diary, G? This isn't funny anymore."

Greg smirked. "It's fucking hysterical."

"G."

"You're not getting it."

"Oh no?" Nick bit his lip to stifle a grin. "Well," he said, shrugging. "I guess i you're /i gonna get it."

"What?"

Licking his lips, Nick glanced at Greg's bare legs. Soon after he and Greg had started dating, Nick discovered that Greg was severely ticklish in two places—his upper thighs and the bottoms of his feet. The merest touch in either place would send Greg into a fit of breathless giggles. "You don't tell me where my diary is by the time I count to five, you're gonna get it. One."

"Nicky," Greg said seriously. "Come on. I'm way too cute for this."

"Two."

Greg's eyes grew wide. "No," he pleaded. "Don't you dare."

In spite of himself, Nick let out a laugh. Greg was a master pouter; Nick had to give him that. "Three," he said. "You're running out of time, G. Four."

Jutting out his bottom lip, Greg whined, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Nick smiled. "Five." With excruciating slowness, he dragged one index finger along Greg's thigh.

Greg squirmed, reaching a hand back to swipe at his attacker. "Stop it!"

Chuckling, Nick dragged all the fingers of one hand along Greg's bare thigh, causing Greg to erupt into a fit of laughter and wriggling. With a smirk, Nick attacked Greg with a frenzy, tickling first one thigh, and then the other.

"Nicky," Greg implored. "Come on! Stop it! I can't take it!"

Nick shrugged. "Then hand it over."

Licking his lips, Greg said. "No."

"Then, it's the feet."

"Nicky, no!" Greg started squirming like mad. "That's just wrong."

When Nick bent down to grab one of Greg's feet, Greg took advantage of his lover's imbalance to snatch a pillow. In desperation, he socked him in the face, and then leapt off the bed and scuttled into the hallway.

"Sanders!" Nick shouted, and hurtled out the door after Greg. He rounded the corner, just in time to see Greg scramble into the bathroom and slam the door.

"Fuck," Nick says under his breath, pounding on the door with the ball of his hand.

"Language, language," Greg said, collapsing into a fit of giggles. Nick stared at the door. Giggling. The man was giggling. Not laughing. Not chuckling. Giggling.

Scowling, Nick banged on the door again. "Greg! Come on! The joke's over!" He stared at the door, waiting for it to open. After a minute, he said, "You gotta come out of there eventually."

"Not for a while," Greg said, rapping against the door with something heavy. "I have some reading material to keep me busy."

Nick stared at the door, as if it had suddenly burst into flames. "You had my diary in the bathroom?"

Greg burst out laughing. "At least it's not a Hello Kitty diary!"

Savagely, Nick pounded on the door. "Greg!"

"What have you got in here anyway?" Greg asked. In a mocking voice, he said, "'Dear Diary, today, I met a cute boy.'"

"Not in that one," Nick muttered. Louder, he said, "I mostly just bitch about work in that one."

"I can see that." Greg said, "You have quite a sailor mouth." Greg cleared his throat dramatically and read:

Grissom can be an ass sometimes. He sends Sara off to work a solo homicide, but me? I get stuck with a babysitter. Bastard.

"Very profound, Nick."

Nick felt a blush creep into his cheeks. "I was upset," he said. "Don't read any more of that."

"Did you ever think of just talking to him, Nick?"

"Tried that. I was venting, Greg. Don't you ever do that?" He leaned against the door. "Come on out of there," he said.

"Nope. I've got some reading to do."

Nick let out a breath and wandered down the hall. Maybe if he ignored Greg, the joke would lose it's appeal. But knowing Greg, he would polish off that whole diary before that happened. Nick hooked his index finger into the handle of the refrigerator and yanked and door. This was hopeless. Greg had way of patience than Nick. And considering Greg didn't have to work until the next night…Nick was in for a lengthy wait.

Leaning his weight against the open refrigerator, Nick reached for a can of Pepsi. He had the cold beverage in his hand when he spotted a brand new bottle of Extra Creamy Readi-Whip. He grinned. Greg would have to come out of the bathroom eventually. It wouldn't hurt to be ready. With the Readi-Whip in hand, Nick strolled toward the bathroom.

"Look, Greggo, you can come out," he said, swallowing down a chuckle. "I'm not mad."

"You're waiting out there with a feather or something," Greg accused.

A feather. That would've been brilliant. Nick made a mental note to track down a feather tomorrow.

Leaning against the door, Nick soothed, "I am not, babe. Come on out."

"I just think it's cute that you keep a diary," Greg said. "I didn't know."

Nick shrugged. "I've kept them since I was fourteen. My dad was great at repression, and I needed to vent, or I'd spontaneously combust." He ran his index along the grooves in the bathroom door. "And when I realized I liked guys, I didn't have anyone to talk to, so I poured it all down on paper."

"That's kind of cool."

"I guess. There's nothing in there of interest."

"Come on, Nicky," Greg said. "I want to get to know you, the you keep locked up. You hold so much back."

Trust Greg to make this all sound reasonable and sweet. He had a point, though. When he realized he was getting serious about Greg, Nick had told himself that he wouldn't keep things from Greg. Instead, he'd open up to him, trust him with his secrets. Rolling his eyes, Nick walked across the hall to closet and dragged out a big box full of books. He thumbed through the thin volumes until he found what he was looking for. Letting out a breath, he walked back to the bathroom.

Pressing his body against the door, he said, "Trust me, G," he said. "That one's boring. How about this one? I wrote this a few years ago:"

Today I met my new masturbation fantasy, and his name is Greg Sanders. He's the new DNA guy. His hair's kind of goofy, but other than that, he's incredibly hot.

"You didn't like my hair?" Greg asked.

"It wasn't my favorite, G," Nick said. Clearing his throat, he continued:

There's just something sexy about his smile. Today, I went to the DNA lab four times, even though I only needed something one time. I don't know if he noticed, or not.

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I noticed. Read me another."

Licking his lips, Nick opened the diary to a random page and scanned the page. Making a face, he said, "I'm not reading this."

"Read it," Greg whined. "Please?"

Nick closed his eyes. There was no doubt that he'd fallen hard for Greg Sanders. Otherwise, there's no way he'd make himself this vulnerable. Rolling his eyes, Nick read:

Greg smiled at me today. At least, I think he was smiling at me. I'm not sure. Catherine was there, too, but he was looking at me when he smiled, so I'm just going to believe he was smiling at me. It makes me feel good. I want him.

Swallowing, Nick waited for Greg to burst out laughing. But instead, he heard silence. After a moment, Greg said, "You actually wrote those things about me?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "Come on out, and I'll read you some more."

"If I come out, what are you going to do to me?"

Grinning, Nick picked up the whipped cream. "I'll think of something."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Come on, G. I won't hurt you."

Slowly, Greg opened the door and peeked out. The moment he had Greg in his sights, Nick pointed the Readi-Whip at Greg and shot a glob whipped cream at Greg's face. With a hearty laugh, he leaned forward and snatched a bit of cream with his tongue. Then, chuckling, he ambled toward the bedroom.

"Coming dear?" Nick said.

Greg scowled. "I hope you know you're licking this off, mister."

"Counting on it, G," Nick said. "Counting on it."

***