Work Text:
I.
He’s been working in Las Vegas Crime Lab as a DNA tech for one year to this date and he had only set himself one big important rule when he got in: no office affairs. He had allowed himself to bring stuff from home, namely his coffee—upon the discovery of the mess that looked like swamp water they called coffee in the restroom—and part of his stash of porn because not all nights were a fast-paced stressful back and forth. As long as he wore his lab coat and was efficient—which he always was, you’re welcome—Grissom had allowed him not to change a lick of his personal style, appearance wise. But the golden rule he had set himself had been there for a reason, a very BIG and good reason. To begin with, even if he was young, he knew all too well that office affairs didn’t end up in a pretty way. They usually were a messy intense experience that resulted in uncomfortable shifts and even more uncomfortable conversations.
But of course, the important and very BIG reason for Greg was that he wasn’t going to allow himself to bounce from one relationship to another. When leaving New York he had had that in mind from the very first minute: flirting was ok, one night stands too, going after someone until at least a year had gone by NOPE, not viable—really bad for his mental health.
To be fair he’s been doing pretty well for now regarding the whole not falling for someone at work and sleeping with them thingie. Because ok, he’s not going to lie, Clark County has a lot of eye-candy under the payroll, especially working the night shift. And Greg would be a fucking hypocrite if he said that he hadn’t noticed Warrick’s oh-so-green eyes when he started working with him, or Catherine’s pretty body and goddess-like face and he can even grant Grissom some points for his…charm? The one who picked his attention and made him think twice about his self-imposed-dumb-as-fuck rule though, was Nick. Good’ol Nick Stokes who even if he exuded this deep heterosexual “I’ve had an affair with half the ladies around here” jock vibes, was simply i-rre-sis-ti-ble. Yet: from Texas, a ladies man…and ok, he may not look at Greg badly when he flirts with him, but Greg knows as well as he knows that water boils at 212ºF and that the chemical formula for chloroform is CHCL3, that Nick is never EVER going to flirt back or show any kind of interest for anyone who is not a woman.
So Greg’s fine and 100% over the crush he may have had on him for the first weeks—months—working night shift, and yeah, Greg is moving on and now that his week of summer holidays to go back home and see his parents is over, his new resolution is to try and keep being on friendly—friendlier—terms with Nick; because why the hell not? It may even help him get over the feeling that the flirting he does with this guy is different from the one he does with any of the other CSIs.
So, whenever Nick appears to not be doing anything in the break room or simply occupies one of the stools in the lab next to his microscopes while Greg’s working, he talks, asks him about videogames, comics, movies—he even goes as far as learning about football, so that whenever the other man tells him he’s hanging out with Warrick that afternoon to watch the game Greg has something smart to say, and frankly, it all suits him pretty well. He’ll go for his flings after work and keep this little lab crush to himself, because truth be told, there’s nothing not to be liked about Nick Stokes, but Greg has better things to do than to pine after some oblivious straight dude; even if his smile could light the whole building and he’s one of the nicest human beings Greg’s ever met.
II.
When Holly Gribbs gets shot, the whole lab goes into a frenzy. Rumours fly and it’s not too late before everyone around Trace and DNA is speculating about what could have made Warrick leave the trainee on her own on what turned out to be such a dangerous location. Greg doesn’t comment, mainly because his relationship with those on day shift is not that good and also because he likes Warrick, he’s a nice guy, Greg may not know him as Nick or Grissom do, but Greg has started to feel part of the team; even if everything he does is from behind the four glass walls of his lab.
Grissom gets put in charge and he brings Sara in to help with the case; everyone knows she will stay for longer. Sara is nice, clever and doesn’t fall for Greg’s unsurmountable charm, he’s fine with this though, knows as well as everybody else around that out of all of them she only has eyes for Grissom, but hell, Greg’s still got more chances of ever going out for breakfast with her than going out with Nick, and he’s still ok with that too…kinda. He can barely suppress a smile when he hands her and Cath the results that will get the guy who murdered Holly behind bars, so he’s happy for them despite never having met her, he’s happy because a happy Cath is also worth every miserable hour he’s spent with his headphones off and actually listening to whatever she was telling him about Lindsey or what an ass her husband is.
From that day on it somehow gets better, work’s still work and it’s tiring and sometimes downright boring, but Nick is now a level three, so Greg gets to see him more often than he used to and man, do his days get better just by seeing Nick beaming when a case goes well or scrunch his brows like a confused six feet puppy when the results don’t add up with whatever theory he had on his cute little head. Greg gets to know more about him, even though they are just snippets about what he likes and dislikes or about Nick’s family and what they are doing back in Texas, and Greg may exaggerate his stories a bit when he narrates them to Emma over the phone while he’s trying to clean a pretty ugly stain on one of his shirts on a Saturday morning, but he truly, genuinely, believes that he can be considered as more than an acquaintance to Nick, that he could even get to be called his friend.
III.
Two events hit too close home in two consecutive weeks.
The first one is the case with the dean. After seeing the evidence going around during the night and overhearing a couple of conversations in the break room it looked like both women had done it; but when he actually hears that they were a couple and that they had killed him as a way of freeing themselves—a way of escaping the hell they were living, Greg freezes and has to excuse himself to the bathroom. He doesn’t remember much after shutting the door of a stall silently and sitting on the toilet, he may have vomited, or maybe his stomach just moved and felt like it was going to come out of his throat for a while. When he finally comes out, he spends another couple of minutes cleaning his face and trying to look normal or at least whole.
He sometimes forgets that the world doesn’t revolve around him, that’s not an extension of California or of his best university years, it’s not difficult for him to empathize with people; but he’s heard too many stories similar to what had gone down in that University along the years—that for better or worse hadn’t ended up with anybody being killed. They did usually end up with broken families, drugs and serious mental health issues being developed in the long run though.
Greg believes they deserved better, those two girls, he thinks they should have had the right to be free without resorting to going that far. The right to be happy without ending up in some county jail where according to justice they’d pay for what they had done, and with a bit of luck it would be a short sentence and after the 25 years passed they’d be able to see each other again. Greg hopes they do, he still has some kind of faith in happy endings, he still thinks that even if killing is inexcusable, people do deserve a chance to repent and come out to be better than they were.
The second event is so unexpected that his brain spends a whole week processing it. It’s Tuesday morning, Greg’s shift is ending and he’s hanging his lab coat in the locker room when he hears somebody enter. He has to change his shoes yet, so he doesn’t say anything, knowing that if it’s another one of the lab rats they’ll come round, and if it’s one of the field mice he’ll greet them on his way out. Greg makes a move to grab his sneakers when he hears a soft sob that paralyzes him. He keeps quiet and waits, hearing the soft sounds continue, he’s faced with two options—can almost envision them as two parallel paths coming out of one same event, as it happens in those time travel parallel dimension movies and series: Greg could wait until whoever that is stops crying and exit as if he hadn’t heard shit, or come out and try to console the stranger, knows that it would be a jerk move not to do so.
Now, in retrospective, he doesn’t regret the choice he made. God was it fucking tempting to flee. He stands up and as silently as he can, slides his feet until he can peek around the row of lockers that’s separating him from the other bench and the door; almost automatically he has to draw back and bite his fist, because that’s Nick Stokes crying his soul out while he sobs against his palms, and Greg was not mentally or emotionally prepared to see that. His back briefly collides against the locker—because he’s a fucking Californian ninja—and that startles Nick, who seems to shuffle up to a standing position, coughing a couple of times.
“Who’s there?” his voice is still raspy and his accent strong, Greg knows that Nick’s going for the carefree cowboy impression, but he’s only making the knot that’s formed in Greg’s stomach clench harder. So he comes out of his hiding place, hands up, palms forwards and his gaze fixed on Nick’s face, whose eyes are still red and puffy, his face wet around the area of the cheeks and Greg swears he’s going to be seeing that face until the day he dies whenever he thinks about the word ‘heartbroken’ . “G, don’t creep on me like that I was just—” before Nick finishes speaking Greg knows that his legs are moving, and that this could end not really too well, but he also happens to know that along with his legs his mouth has started working.
“You know—I know you were crying, and that’s cool because men also cry, I mean it’s not really cool because seeing you cry means that some bad shit has gone down, but hell I’m not gonna think less of you because of the tears, because I cry all the fucking time like…last week when all that shit at the uni went down I had to stop working and go to the toilet to cry because man I cry a lot, I even cry when I see fucking Titanic, like, I cannot see that scene of the old couple drowning and not cry” to be honest Greg’s not too sure if he wants to know what the hell he’s been rambling about before he hugs Nick Stokes tight against his body, eliciting a surprised grunt from the other man and a gasp from himself.
Greg hugs Nick suddenly and unprofessionally, as if he could squeeze away whatever kind of pain or suffering he is going through, and, surprisingly enough, Nick doesn’t push him away, doesn’t have the kind of reaction that Greg was expecting him to have at all. It baffles and amazes him equally, but Greg doesn’t say anything, he simply stays there and after a couple of seconds go by, he can feel Nick relax for a bit, he can feel the other man’s forehead rest on his shoulder and if Greg didn’t have the huge responsibility of keeping one of the biggest fucking crushes he’s had in years upright, he’d be on the floor having a seizure because this cannot be real! Greg’s always had issues with personal space, with proximity and how close somebody can get to him, if it’s someone who he’s in a relationship with or simply having sex with it’s not a big deal, but people at work or similar have always been a big no-no for him—of course, Nick friggin’ Stokes had to be different, had to feel so right pressed against him, soothing and warm despite the reduced space.
Greg knows that he’s still speaking and that one of his hands is shaking while the other caresses Nick’s back. He finally starts crying again, in silence, sobs replaced by brief hiccups that Greg wouldn’t hear if Nick’s mouth wasn’t against his own damp shirt where hot puffs of air collide in brief intervals. Greg feels like if he says something this moment is going to shatter, that if he blinks and lets his eyes stray away from the hair that’s on the back of Nick’s neck he’s going to disappear and that this is going to be some alcohol-induced fever dream after his sixth tequila shot. But Nick stays there, solid, firm and hot against Greg, and Greg stays still until the hiccups subside and Nick pulls away, his head down and his hands wiping away the stray tears that are making an effort to keep coming out.
“Thanks G” Greg gets to hear before the other man looks in his direction and flees in a quick stride, leaving Greg standing in the middle of the locker room, barefoot, his shirt completely tear stained, his eyes glassy and his mouth in a perfect ‘o’ shape that may have made this one of the few times in his life that he’s been at a loss of words.
IV.
After the whole locker scene they don’t talk outside of work; Greg receives Nick dutifully on his lab whenever he brings samples and tries to hold his tongue whenever the thought of asking about what happened that night appears. He shoos it away, knows all too well that they are not that close even though it’s what he wishes for, and Nick looks as if he’s trying to distance himself from Greg, trying to regain that ground that stood in between them previously, so Greg lets it be, because truth be told, he’s kind of anxious because of the fact that he might have scared Nick away; but what was he supposed to do? Let him crying in there? Or give him a good ol’ pat on the back while saying “wow getting almost shot sucks, see you tomorrow?” Not that he knew about the whole Nick having the muzzle of a gun on his face at that moment, but in the Crime Lab gossip spreads like wildfire.
So when Nick asks him to process the blouse he’s a bit jealous, because there’s the scrunched brow and the honest and so hopeful look, the one that makes Greg melt, for that mysterious girl. Greg can only wish he were the one who was on the receiving end of all that longing, but he can cope, he has been doing it for more than a year now. It does hurt a bit when Nick mutters ‘gross’ after his whole transmission of saliva talk, because damn, wouldn’t Greg do anything to have Nick’s fluids on him, but that train of thought isn’t helping, so he processes the spit on the shirt and pretends to be interested in the lady whoever she is; she might as well be the luckiest woman on this damn city for earning Nick’s attention.
That same night he has a dream that involves Nick hanging out with a whole harem of girls while sipping coffee from a mug, Greg is wearing the same blouse he had processed that morning and peeks around the corner waiting for the other man to notice him. Then the scene shifts and Greg’s back at the locker room, but he is the one crying and there’s Sara across the room, looking at him with an impish grin on her face—until Freyja wakes him up around what he thinks it’s two o’clock, because of course he forgot to feed the cat, his only responsibility outside of work besides trying to preserve his social life away from forensics and science.
V.
He didn’t expect to meet the mysterious girl like this.
He didn’t expect to meet her at all, period, but he sees her picture and of course Nick’s fallen for someone like her, she is gorgeous and pretty and has exactly the shady and tremulous background that would make Nicky want to play hero for her.
Greg wants to help and at the same time he almost claims to be sick so that he can let another one work his shift and the case, but deep down he knows that he’s better than anyone else they have on the payroll and he knows that chemistry will only tell the truth. Realizing that solid evidence is the only thing that can help Nicky is what keeps him going through the night.
He almost screams full of joy when Catherine is given the case for half a day, silently thanks every God that might have heard his lamentations and prayers, almost builds a personal shrine for Cath when she finds out about the time stamp being screwed up and brings the pimp’s epithelials—this almost ALMOST makes the whole day worth it. But it doesn’t, because Nick’s friend and lover is dead, because Greg’s heard every lab technician and agent in day shift say nasty stuff about Nick and the hooker, and one thing is laughing because of Nick being a puppy, because of Nick wanting to be the hero of every lost cause that he finds on his way and another very different thing is comparing him to the low lives that kill and rape sex workers on a daily basis. So Greg bangs pretty hard the cabinet door that he was holding open when he overhears some of those comments, because he’s afraid of speaking up in this state of mind, but not afraid of making a point.
Greg’s a bit giddy when he goes to speak with Doc Robins, he’s barely spoken twice with the eldest coroner—he’s chatted a couple of times with David, but he cannot find Nick in the lab or in the precinct, so his last two brain cells tell him to go to the most logical spot where he could find him. Robins eyes him from head to toe and Greg grants him one of his big winning grins, he knows that Robins is friends with the day coroner—Gary Tellhehoff, his brain supplies—who has a punk rock band, and even if his music’s a bit mediocre for Greg’s standards, it can serve as a starting point if the man refuses to tell him anything or if the need to have a proper conversation arises.
“Have you seen Nick? I’ve been helping out with the death of his friend and—”
“The prostitute? Nick paid for her funeral, that boy is too damn good for this department. I overheard Catherine telling Grissom that they were going to the precinct, seems like they got the perp” the doctor answers almost immediately, as if knowing everything that Greg was about to ask. Greg smiles again and thanks him before making his way back to the DNA lab so that he can close up and maybe catch Nick before he leaves for good.
Almost an hour passes before he sees Nick out of the corner of his eye entering the locker room. Greg steels himself, combs a stray hair back up and walks decisively towards it—but stops dead in his tracks when he hears Warrick inside. He’s discovered something about himself lately and that’s that he’s become quite an eavesdropper, he doesn’t move an inch though, stays slightly propped against the wall outside, listening intently.
“I’m not really up to it you know, wanna rest for a bit…maybe sleep and let the dust settle” Nick is confessing, his tone apologetic, always an example of Texan courtesy Greg thinks fondly.
“Ok man, I just wanted to help, will be a call away if you decide that you are up for those beers later” Greg can almost hear the shrug that accompanies Warrick’s resigned sigh before he walks out in the opposite direction, Greg’s sure the other man has seen him, or maybe Warrick’s preferred to ignore him; who knows, Greg doesn’t and to be honest, doesn’t care.
So once again, he straightens his shirt a bit before entering and—bumping against Nick’s chest, which sounds romantic and all, but when you are going full speed inside and the man bumping against you is walking quite intently it’s pretty painful.
“Hey, watch it” Nick warns before realizing who he just collided with, which makes Greg smile sheepishly before raising his hands up.
“Sorry dude just…I was looking for you, heard about the case and the girl and—”
“Kristy” Nick supplies with an edge that Greg hasn’t ever heard before, it marks danger, shows that he has to be more careful, but there’s too much hurt behind all that anger in Nick’s eyes, and Greg is anything but a tenacious bastard.
“Yeah, hm… Kristy right, I wanted to say that I’m sorry…and glad that you didn’t do it just…wanted to let you know that everything would have been a lot worse without you around” he babbles, tries to keep his eyes fixed on Nick’s, because he knows that if he stops looking at him he’ll lose every chance he’s had to be sincere, and he wants Nick to know it, he wants to make him know that this is no joke, that this is as serious as the hug Greg gave him almost a month prior.
“Thanks, Greggo, Cath told me what you did. You are great” Nick rasps out, his voice a bit hollow, and the smile he produces doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Greg knows that that’s the best he’ll be getting so he smiles a bit too, sadder than usual, trying to comfort his friend as best as he can.
“I mean I know you are busy, but if you need someone who listens or simply company I know a place not far from here…”Greg starts explaining, one of his hands’ trailing up his own neck, scratching the back of it, the sheepish smile back on place. Nick chuckles, short and soft and then shakes his head a couple of times.
“Think I’ll pass for today, see you around G” he bides his goodbyes and disappears down the corridor in the same direction Warrick had left, and Greg doesn’t have time for much, just to wave while he sees Nick’s smile turn into a pained expression. And God does he know that it sounds cliché, but he wants to protect with his own life the smile he’s been seeing prior to the events that had unfolded today.
VI.
Things change between them once again after the whole Kristy thing, not in a bad way. Greg knows by heart that touching Nick is off limits. Nick likes to get close to people, likes to prop himself up or place a hand on the small of his friends’ back, Greg knows that for Nick he’s not in touching terms yet, even if Nick’s for him, but after months of pining, distance and maybe too much daydreaming, Nick shifts a bit closer to him. Like a planet changing orbit Nick starts to get closer when they are looking down the microscopes, or whenever he is staring down at evidence that Greg’s processing; he can feel Nick’s breath against his skin, and he should relax, breathe in and out a couple of times and convince himself that this has nothing to do with reciprocating feelings or whatever—but damn is it hard! He even gets to the point of telling Nick to back off because of how antsy the whole thing makes him feel, tells the man and himself that he can’t concentrate because of personal space, which technically is not a lie.
“You know…what you’ve got for this guy sounds too serious to be a crush” he hears his friend Emma say one morning while they smoke a blunt, waiting for her roommate to wake up so she can get into her apartment.
“Nah, I mean, have you even been listening when I told you about him? He’s the kind of jock I liked in college but with all the improvements and a conscience that maturing doesn’t usually bring to those of his kind…the guy HAS to be straight” he laughs, taking a drag before passing the smoke back to her. They slept together once during senior year—served Emma as her lesbian awakening and to Greg as his loss of virginity, they still joke about it today but hell if Greg is going to recognize anything aside of saying that it was awkward as fuck, no pun intended.
“Well, but what if he isn’t? I mean he could be so far up the closet he lives in sodding Narnia, the guy could be bi or gay” she insists, throwing the ashes that remain away, staring at a fixed point that’s between the roof of Greg’s car and the Stratosphere Tower that can be seen not too far away, as an ominous reminder of where they are, of the city that awaits a couple of miles away from the apartment building they are sitting in front of.
“He’s a ladies man Em, I mean it’s not even worth the try, he’ll just brush it off as something silly I’d say, or maybe laugh and then tell his cop friends about how much of a weirdo I am—nuh uh, not happening” he knows for sure that Nick wouldn’t laugh, maybe nervously, but not with the intention to hurt Greg or anything like that.
“Ok, ok whatever you say lover boy, means that you’re not off limits if Lizzie wants to roll you in for another blind date” Lizzie is Emma’s girlfriend, they have been sleeping together for a month or so Greg suspects, but Emma refuses to call her that, says that they have just begun ‘knowing each other’, big fat lie, as Greg knows all too well that they met when Em got to Vegas in 1999, and her roommate introduced them both at a ridiculous pool party that Greg was a bit jealous of not having been invited to.
A week later he starts dating Angie, who is nice and works at a big fat security provider for casinos, she is a big nerd for mostly everything that Greg likes, so that’s great, the sex’s good which is always a plus and she doesn’t look anything like the Texan he has to see every night at work, which also helps a lot with the whole psyching up and convincing himself that his crush was getting nowhere. It doesn’t diminish the flirting with Sara or his proximity to Nick though, which is great. It’s also the first serious relationship he’s had with a girl and the first one since he dumped Mike back in NY, which is all good and makes him feel better and short of grown up.
Everything seems to be going well and they date for a whole month, which implies Greg sacrificing a lot of mornings to hang out and rearranging his whole sleep schedule, which works fine by him. He even goes as far as calling her from the lab when she asks for advice on some stuff one night and ok, it might be worth it just to see Nick’s face and how he reacts to the whole ‘goofing off’ thing. Greg starts regretting the whole affair less than a week later when Angie leaves him for a guy that she’s met on her lunch break who has a normal schedule and that’s she’s 100% percent sure he’s not going to leave her for the next beefcake that makes eye contact with him. The stereotype hurts, but’s funny to Greg how outside of work he’s out of the closet to almost everyone, while back in the lab nobody’s ever commented anything about his sexuality—he’s not too bothered to stay in, to be honest, but it’s hilarious how they see him as some kind of flirty guy who goes for the first skirt on his sights, which is not a complete lie but…
Less than a month later Em sets him up with another girl, she is called Becca and she has to be the most stunning woman Greg’s met in his whole life. She’s two years older than him, works as a professor in UNLV and has the most amazing eyes and hair and GOD. Greg spends the following night studying her DNA at work because there has to be some kind of secret to looking so perfect. He doesn’t get much, and Becca doesn’t call him ever again nor does she answer his calls, which make him go listen to audiobooks and Evanescence to chill because this might be his worst dating streak ever. In spite of everything, it serves him to learn two things: One; his method of not dating people on rebound works and two; Nick likes to meet people over coffee in a slow-paced way—he’ll omit the flower part the other man talked about because Greg’s not a big fan, but if Nick gives him a potted plant he’ll probably marry him and take care of it as if it was their son.
Greg doesn’t get much time to overthink about his shitty personal life during the following week though, because the case with the twenty swabs from the FBI happens and Grissom makes him push it aside and process the swabs from the baby crime scene, which he understands, but it’s not as easy to make the Sheriff understand. He takes one of his free days after that and spends it sleeping and catching up on movies that have been coming up during the last year. Freyja is good company, sleeps on his lap for almost the whole day, and Greg doesn’t really have the energy or the will to call Em and tell her everything that’s happened over the last month. She calls him instead and even if he tries to hold it he ends up crying a bit over the whole Angie fiasco, more than he is willing to recognize anyways.
VII.
Greg goes back to work with his hair done and having bought a couple of new shirts because after such a shitstorm he deserves to treat himself. He goes through the severed head case samples without much trouble, and he forgets that’s evaluation day until Grissom comes knocking on the door of his lab while he’s filing the last sheets of paperwork, his boss looks happy, but also in a hurry, so Greg simply raises up his head with a quizzical look on his eyes.
“Any more nuts to analyze? Because I think I should be closing up until the guy from days arrives” he excuses himself, raising his hands in mock surrender before Grissom shakes his head a couple of times.
“Next time the team hangs out you are invited to a beer” Greg gets to hear before Grissom disappears without further ado, which makes him even more confused. He’s about to turn around and finish up signing the forms he’s got left when suddenly he sees Nick turn around the corner and come in, who is very much welcome whenever he pleases keep Greg company, indeed.
“Gonna explain what the whole thing with Grissom and inviting me to a drink was about?” he asks, eyeing the Texan cautiously, until he sees him smile and that small gesture makes Greg relax almost immediately.
“He wanted to thank you for the peanut analysis from before, but you know how he is, won’t tell you straight away the case got solved because of you” Nick laughs before leaning against the counter, looking Greg up and down before clearing his throat “I know I’m not Grissom but if you want to—we can go over and get that breakfast you talked about a couple of months ago. Warrick just got kidnapped by Griss so I’m free” and here comes the smile that makes Greg have to swallow and put down the pen because GOD DAMN.
It takes some seconds for him to process the whole ‘I’m going out with you because my best friend is not available and you are the second best option for company around’ but, to be honest? Greg’s not going to complain because as far as he knows, this is the furthest he’s ever going to get to touching the sky, even after he dies, so he nods jerkily before the smile comes again, making him have to breathe before even mouthing anything.
“Yeah sure, got dumped by my girlfriend a two weeks ago, nothing better to do than going back home and catching up on sleep” and ok, that has to be the lamest—with capital L—answers Greg’s ever given on his whole life, but heck, he doesn’t even know what the proper ways of communication between heterosexual friends are, so he deems it quite good.
“Cool, I’ll be by the lockers in ten minutes. See you there?” Nick asks again, to what Greg nods once more because he hadn’t ever realized that rendering him speechless was that easy, but hell, he was going to add Nick Stokes to the list of stuff that did.
“Of course, just gotta finish this up and I’ll be there in a sec, genius takes time to settle” he affirms smiling sideways while he bows his head a bit towards the stack of papers on his desk to afterwards see Nick disappearing down the corridor.
To say that Greg finishes up in what takes a penny to touch the ground is an overstatement, he stuffs half the paperwork in the priorities drawer so the day’s tech finds them before scrawling his signature in a couple of places where he is sure that’s supposed to go. He almost stumbles with a girl that’s carrying a huge evidence box when he’s closing the door before rushing over to the lockers. Nick isn’t there yet, at least outside, which gives Greg like five minutes to prepare himself, trying to look decent but not decent enough to scare his crush —now upgraded to friend—away. He hangs his lab coat and spends more than usual rearranging his hair, and after having buzzed the sides it doesn’t need much, but shit, so much for trying. He grabs his sneakers and puts them on, closes the door of his closet before walking as slowly as he can muster back to the corridor. He feels his hand jittering a bit against the pocket of his jeans, retracing the hem of the piece of clothing a couple of times before he sees Nick waiting, facing the door, so that he clearly sees Greg when he comes out; Greg hopes he looks calmer and far more collected than he feels.
“Been here for long? Maybe I could drive you to a nice place” Greg goes for flirty because it always works best with Nick, seeing him blushing slightly and facing away because of his words is also a bonus.
“Gonna take me somewhere fancy, Sanders? Didn’t take it for your kind of scene” Nick laughs and this may not be the first time that he’s followed up Greg’s flirting but it is certainly the first time he’s done it away from DNA and it does make Greg feel smug and oh-so-powerful, because sorry Warrick but him, the almighty Greg Sanders, just made Nick flirt back in a public place, and this day—11th of May of 2001—is going to get a special mark on his personal calendar.
“Your lack of confidence in my culinary choices accompanied with good ambience hurts me, Agent Stokes” he pretend pouts while they get out, thanking once again that they’ve parked their cars not too far away the one from the other. He hears Nick laughing pretty close, and he’s already thanking himself for not sputtering the first thing that passes his brain when his mouth suddenly gets to work “Want to follow me there? Or do you prefer to choose; I guess it’s the polite thing to do on a first date so really, if you want to be a gentleman I’m not going to say no to this really gentlemanly gesture”
“After seeing you guzzle down two cups of noodles in twenty minutes, trust me, it’s difficult not to take you up on that, but it’s not gonna hurt to go after you if you claim that the joint is decent” Nick drawls before getting into his Tahoe, and Greg has to suppress his inner joy so that he doesn’t end up jumping up in the air with his hands up and squealing for this achievement of not getting Nick to brush off what he’s said once again. It maybe has to do with the fact that they are out of work, it maybe has got to do with the fact that they are alone out in the open. Greg doesn’t know, but he’s going to memorize the steps of this formula so that he can repeat it as many times as he can—if this turns out ok of course, because all this may as well be some over the top setup of Nick’s to blow him away and tell him that he’s outright creepy and that he doesn’t want any of their really-on-the-road-to-friendly relationship to continue its course.
By the time Greg notices, he’s driving away from the precinct, Nick’s following him from up close and he breathes in and out steadily in an effort to calm down. Greg doesn’t turn on any music because he knows that if he starts one of his cassettes now he’s going to get to the place more fired up than he needs to be. So he turns the radio dial, hearing the weather forecast lady over the static speaking in a dull it’s-five-AM voice about how the next morning is going to be hot and dry—surprise! By the time she’s finished listing how the air is going to move cumulus’ and clouds around Clark County, Greg’s already parked and waiting for Nick to follow suit, his fingers having been drumming an arrhythmic staccato beat against his steering wheel the entire journey.
Greg gets out of his Jetta and smiles brightly when he sees Nick stifling a yawn before locking his car. He’s anything but a master of theatrics, so with a grand gesture Greg points to where the diner is; a small place across the street that’s well-lit and pretty empty—considering its proximity to all the office buildings that are vomiting their own graveyard shifts at a constant flux in evenly timed intervals through their revolving doors.
They walk in almost at the same time and Greg directs Nick to the counter, sitting in one of the empty stools that has another one next to it, which is not difficult giving that the only other patron that can be found is nursing a beer in one of the booths. Greg, knows they are still on quite a difficult ground to move straight to a booth for two. He orders a couple of breakfasts and coffee for him, listening to Nick ask for another while they see the waiter go.
At first they don’t talk about much, yet the silence doesn’t seem tense or uncomfortable. They comment on stuff from work and Greg thinks he keeps his cool better than ever, he listens to Nick complain about some comments he’s heard on the latest crime scene when walking past uniforms. Greg knows that Nick used to be a cop back in Dallas—it’s common knowledge in the lab after all—but doesn’t have an idea of why he left or why he came to Vegas, he supposes that that’s a conversation they’ll have if this whole friendly relationship of theirs goes further. He knows that there’s something important there though, underneath that topic, because he’s sure as hell that Nick’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he talks about the whole uniformed lot and Greg can relate, but he’s not going to comment anything. After all, he doesn’t want to start what may turn out to be an uncomfortable exchange about capitalism, authority and similar stuff with his coworker who happens to come from a very conservative state until he knows in which ground Nick stands.
The food arrives and he beams, softening the gesture a bit when he sees Nick out of the corner of his eye swallowing down just because of the heavenly smell that wafts up from the plates.
“Homemade and straight out of paradise” Greg comments, taking his mug of coffee and dropping in just half of his packet of sugar to stir it while he hums softly, he watches Nick starting to eat even before he touches the coffee, which is nice and gives Greg even more small details of the other man to absorb and assimilate: Nick starts with the eggs, he has his coffee for breakfast with milk, prefers brown sugar over the refined one…
They are halfway through the food; Nick is, Greg finished minutes ago and he’s drinking his coffee while he cradles the porcelain between his hands, seeing the first rays of sunlight flicker in through the Venetian blinds, when Nick stops talking. They had moved on to a conversation about cinema and afterwards video games, which had consisted on Greg trying to convince Nick that the Dreamcast was a horrible console that would be soon substituted by a far superior one, while Nick laughed and called him a nerd, to what Greg answered that he is a ‘cool and educated nerd, thank you very much’.
“You know I didn’t take you for the kind guy that comes to these places” Nick interjects, finishing a strip of bacon before looking in Greg’s direction a couple of seconds, going back to looking at his now empty plate almost immediately “Doesn’t look like your ‘scene’” he adds, making Greg chuckle because he could almost see the air quotes on top Nick’s words, remembering he had said something really similar to that before they headed out. Greg doesn’t comment on that, supposes that he’s not the only one that’s nervous.
“You expected me to take you to a club? Wow, ain’t you forward” he whistles, putting down his mug “but I mean you did say that you preferred step by step romancing with coffee and stuff so guess I’ll have to fulfill your wishes, because otherwise I don’t know how I’m going to explain to my mother that I didn’t behave as chivalrously as my coworker who—”
“Shut it G, you know what I mean” Nick gives him a soft shove while he chuckles, and when Greg looks at him quizzically the other man sighs briefly “didn’t take you for the kind of guy who goes to quiet diners after work, I expected you to—I don’t know, throw yourself into the closest dive bar you found or into a club if they hadn’t closed”
“I mean…depends on the day, but I don’t usually go to those to drown my sorrows or anything, clubs are more about having fun and dancing and ok—getting smashed, but it’s part of the fun” Greg explains gesticulating wildly with his hands “You know the glitter and stuff are only add-ons to finding like-minded people” he winks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Greg almost swears that he can see Nick blush, it also could be the sun with its orange light tricking him, because that’s what that fucker usually does, play tricks so that Nick looks far more handsome than he has the right to be.
“Haven’t seen glitter since spring breaks” Nick laughs again, almost nostalgic, but Greg can still see some sadness in those deep brown eyes, and gosh does he wish he could do something about it, like kissing it better, but that’s a train of thought he doesn’t want to take, or that he shouldn’t be wanting to take.
By the time he’s ready to make a comment about what Nick did or didn’t do in his spring break and mention some hot tanned blondes in bikinis and his frat brothers, Greg sees that the other man’s eyes are fixed on his and that Nick’s stopped paying attention to his mug or to his surroundings altogether.
“You know, this might sound weird now…but I really appreciate what you did, back in autumn” Greg has to blink a couple of times trying to stop the images that come flooding to his brain—of Nick crying, of what he had heard that happened to make him sob like that in such an open space as the locker room was.
“I mean any decent human being would have done what I did—” he tries to lighten the mood, but Nick’s stare assures him that this is not one of those situations.
“While growing up I think that one of the things we most heard at home was that boys don’t cry, only sissies do” and holy shit, Greg has to swallow the lump that’s been forming up on his throat because Nick’s opening up to him “and you know, after that kind of upbringing and stuff…it’s quite draining when the few people you’ve ever cried in front of are two of your sisters, your boss and the dude that runs the DNA tests in the lab” he laughs humorlessly, Greg keeps staring.
“Man, that lady almost blew your head up. I mean if that ever happened to me I wouldn’t know what to do. Probably piss my pants and beg for my life” Greg laughs humorlessly, shaking his head before he gets serious, because he knows that what Nick needs now it’s not crap jokes, but understanding “but shit, people cry all the time. I once cried at college because I had ran out of energy drinks and I was so fucking wound up on stress that I couldn’t think straight” he explains, moving one of his hands to the back of his head. “What I’m trying to say is that crying is a perfectly normal response to stress and shit man— it sucks that you were raised in an environment that didn’t let you feel safe enough to relax and let it all out” he finishes, and Greg knows he’s been talking for quite a while, but Nick offers him a crooked grin and a pat in the back. Greg doesn’t see him get the money out, but he does see him placing it on the counter.
“Thanks Greggo, is good to know that you are around” Nick says before standing up, giving him a short wave—Greg doesn’t mention that he’s still got coffee left or that if he wants to they can continue talking, but he does smile back, even if he knows that there’s a frown on his face and that Nick can see it. “See you tomorrow” Greg doesn’t have the heart to tell him that tomorrow’s his free night, keeps his eyes fixed on Nick’s back while he sees him walking away and leave the bar, hearing the soft jingle of the bell on top of the door shaking when it opens to close again.
VIII.
The Strip Strangler kills for almost a month and Greg doesn’t think that he’s ever worked so much and so hard in his whole life. The FBI gets involved and as always, that means that they send an overflow of work his way with which he can barely cope. Despite all the shit that keeps almost flooding him, he gets the chance to spend more time in Sara’s company, which is great, except for the fact that they don’t chat much and that Sara looks as stressed as he does.
After they get Grissom out of the case Greg feels like he’s in a spy movie and having the contact for him and Cath on the phone proves to be useful, despite the fact that Greg believes that he should also have Nick’s and Sara’s—just in case. He doesn’t get the chance to pass much information to them, and when he gets tipped off about Griss catching the perp and the FBI guy shooting him down Greg deflates almost automatically onto his workbench.
He’s chatting idly with Mandy and Bobby when Sara appears and goes straight to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of juice and chugging it down in a flash. They disappear to finish up some reports, but Greg remains beside the coffee machine, watching his coworker throw the plastic bottle into the bin, clapping his hands when it hits the rim and pushes the container down, dropping a couple more bottles and papers down onto the ground.
“Sara Sidle, future NBA champion!” he mock hollers, making her smirk before she walks towards the mess she’s just generated, kneeling to start picking things up.
“Thanks Greg, I’ll sign you a photo when they get me on the cover of some big magazine” Sara answers dryly. Greg is beside her in a couple of swift steps, he puts the trashcan in a standing position while she picks up her bottle, getting it in this time.
“Heard that it turned messy, shouldn’t you be processing the scene?” Greg asks, reaching his hand out so that he can help her stand up. She smiles back, more sincerely this time, but still tired, he’s seen her with far darker circles under her eyes—today’s tiredness doesn’t look to be there only due to the lack of sleep, but also because of what that freak did to all those girls, and what Sara offered to do in that supermarket.
“Warrick and Nick are at it, Grissom told me to go home, thought that you’d have received the memo too” she comments, looking at him curiously, one eyebrow up and her mouth quirking into a knowing smirk “Waiting for someone to get back?” she asks then, always the detective, and Greg has to laugh because oh boy, he knows first-hand that Sara’s smart and observant, but he wasn’t expecting to see her capacities being put to use with him and his workplace interactions.
“Nah…I mean I don’t think I’m invited to the celebratory ‘Grissom’s back breakfast’, so I was just having something before driving back home and starting taking advantage of my weekend, you know, bathing on the feeling of victory and catching the bad guy” he shrugs, averting his gaze towards the counter where he’s left his mug cooling before walking back to pick it up, too aware of Sara’s eyes fixed on the back of his neck.
“Sure, so you weren’t about to ask me out for breakfast or anything like that?” Greg almost lets out a sigh of relief when he hears that, shaking his head and smiling a bit afterwards.
“I mean if you’re offering I could always sacrifice a couple of hours, you know I’d do it for you” he smiles back knowingly, making her laugh and relax a bit, which puts Greg on a good mood. He might have noticed that he also has zero dating chances with her, but hell, she is nice and he can always use new friends, especially as smart and cute as she is.
“Nope, I’ll have to pass and believe me, it’s difficult to let go an offer for free food” she smiles again, warm and playful, but points towards the door indicating that she’s gotta go “Your work has been great these days Greg, you deserve to rest” she notes as a goodbye, disappearing through the door and leaving Greg wondering if the universe is playing a big fat joke on him and whether really Sara knows something about his feelings for a certain CSI or if she just takes him for a playful flirt.
He ends up going back home, because Nick is taking too long and Greg’s not ready to sacrifice five minutes with a coworker in exchange for three extra hours of sleep. He knows out of experience that his body will thank him later.
IX.
Greg’s lived in Vegas for two years, worked at crime lab for two years too, nursed his crush for Nick Stokes for two years and started having a smaller one on Sara less than a year ago. He stopped going to therapy one year ago, went back to dating six months ago and has had four one night stands and one serious relationship. He hasn’t thought of Mike for a while and it doesn’t happen until one night in late June, in which he wakes up breaking into a cold sweat and crying. Freyja is next to him, she is kneading his torso and that helps him relax, helps him catch his breath. It’s eight o’clock in the afternoon and he’s fallen asleep on his sofa while he watching a rerun of the third season of Friends.
It takes him half an hour to calm down and call Emma because at first, he thinks that whatever just happened is pathetic and stupid, but at the same time remembers what his doctor told him, the benefit of talking, of exteriorizing, of not going through it alone.
Emma arrives in twenty minutes, sweating, carrying a bunch of VHS tapes with her and a bag full of chips and beer. She hugs Greg tight, doesn’t ask, herds him to the couch and makes him stay there while she cranks up the AC and gets some ice cream out of the freezer and the beers in. She puts on My Own Private Idaho and they cry as always when they get to the fireplace scene, together and in silence. After that, she puts on the first Alien movie, which Greg loves. This is their ritual. First a drama, one that makes Greg or Emma cry—they’ve got a list of them ready for emergencies—then usually horror films are the best, sci-fi from time to time. Greg loves Ripley and Emma understands the appeal of the film despite jumping with every damn screamer even if she knows them by heart.
It’s almost four in the morning, they are on their fourth bottle of beer and the credits of Aliens are rolling. Emma is now sitting on the ground, legs stretched out and head resting next to Greg’s hands who is taking up the whole sofa lying upside down. Freyja is sleeping on the headrest, has been there since they fed her three hours ago.
“You know, he didn’t like me liking these movies” Greg slurs suddenly, his eyes unfocused and his posture relaxed, his brows are scrunching up a bit and Em just turns around in time to see him smile “I bet Nick wouldn’t mind marathoning Alien with me, he looks like the kind of guy that loves Sigourney Weaver” and now his whole face is soft, his smile, his gaze—all the sadness that was bottled up in there seems to have subsided.
“I bet he would Greg, otherwise you’d have to find yourself a different boyfriend to be, because damn if he can’t appreciate a queen he’s not a good man” she laughs, not as hammered as Greg is, and lets her hand rest close to where Greg’s is, who moves enough to let his fingers trail through the soft almost invisible hair that starts on her wrist.
“I’ll make him pass the test Em, and if he doesn’t we’ll feed him to the lions!” he hollers in between laughs, standing up and making Freyja startle and change positions, too old to run away from her owner. Greg flops down onto the couch again, still lying down, and the VHS is over and the screen is now blue; none of them are moving “He told me that I’m great at what I do, you know…he told me he appreciated my hug” he murmurs closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
Because he knows that Emma is laughing and that Freyja is going to try and find a comfortable position on him soon, but his life is fine, he’s surrounded by very nice people who care, they care more than Mike ever did. He’s still got shit to short out, but he can get to it tomorrow, when he’s feeling better, when his heart stops fluttering.
Sirius (/ˈsɪriəs/a latinisation of Greek Σείριος, Seirios, lit. "glowing" or "scorching") is a binary star and the brightest star in the night sky. It's part of the Canis Major contellation.