Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
Title: Not Even Poets 4/?
Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: FRM
Spoilers: general season 5
Warnings: other pairings implied
Summary: The Cure, a deserted street, and a possible crime of passion.
A/N: You know how when sometimes you write something you have no idea if it's good or not? But there's one paragraph you really like? So you decide to keep the whole thing because you like that one paragraph and everything else goes with it? Yeah. That's what this is.
______________________________
Nick was gone. Greg didn't even have to open his eyes, he could tell
as soon as he stretched that the bed was empty. The sheets next to him were cool to the touch. Nick had been gone for a while.
Some part of him whispered that maybe Nick was just in the bathroom. Maybe Nick was just in the living room watching TV with the sound down. He knew it wasn't true, though. He opened his eyes and sat up, listened to his empty apartment.
It was only nine o'clock, but he switched his alarm off anyway. He wasn't going back to sleep. He got up and started towards the bathroom and oh, yeah, his thighs were sore.
It didn't mean anything, Nick being gone. There were tons of reasons for him to leave. Maybe he had an appointment he had to get to. Maybe he slept better in his own bed. He had to go home to get a change of clothes, anyway, and it's not like Greg had a spare toothbrush for him.
<<Maybe Travis called.>>
Greg turned the shower on and leaned against the counter as he waited for the water to run hot. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and all he could see was the pale, skinny, 14 year old geek he felt like inside. He didn't always feel 14 years old. Sometimes he even felt like an adult, though he hadn't lately. He was almost 30. He should feel like an adult, shouldn't he? He should feel confident and sure of himself instead of just pretending all the time and hoping that was enough.
He stepped into the shower and gritted his teeth as the heat stung his chest. He gave himself a moment to get used to it before turning and letting the water hit his back. Some places on his back were extra sensitive, others felt nothing at all.
That had been nice, actually�not having to explain his scars, not having to preface taking his shirt off with, <<OK, I know this looks bad but don't freak out because I'm totally fine.>> The way Nick had touched him had been nice, not afraid of the scars and not fascinated with them, either. He'd started feeling like either a leper or a freak show, and it had been a relief that Nick hadn't treated him like either one.
Nick had been into him. He hadn't imagined that. He hadn't imagined Nick checking him out at breakfast, hadn't imagined Nick's fierce kisses or the way his body had reacted to Greg's. That was something, at least.
He soaped up his body, washed the sweat and the scent of Nick away. He tipped his head forward and let the hot water ease the ache in his shoulders, massaged his sore thighs.
Maybe Nick just wasn't into relationships. Maybe he just wanted one night stands and fuck buddies. Greg had been sure that there'd been a connection; those kisses had been searing, they hadn't felt at all like one night stand kisses, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe Nick just wasn't into him.
He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and sighed. God. Had he been a pity fuck? He had kissed Nick first and maybe Nick just hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings by saying no. But Nick had touched him first, had stroked his neck and�
Greg reached up to touch his neck where Nick had first touched him. Jesus. Nick hadn't been stroking his neck, he'd been touching Greg's scars. He'd just been touching the scar on his neck and Greg thought he'd been making a move.
"Stupid," he whispered to himself. He was so fucking stupid sometimes. He knew Nick had a savior complex. He knew Nick wanted to protect and save people. Hell, ever since the pranks started Nick had been paying more attention to him than he had in months. Nick wasn't into him, Nick had just wanted to save him, protect him, and Greg had turned it into a pity fuck.
After he got out of the shower he dressed and got ready quickly. He
needed a drink.
**********
"I thought you were on tonight," the girl behind the bar said as she filled a glass with ice.
"I am," Greg said.
"So I take it you don't want any vodka in your tonic."
He shook his head. "That would probably be a bad idea."
She set a tonic water with lime in front of him, then clicked her tongue as he moved to get his wallet. "Your money's no good here, you know that."
"Come on, Anna."
"Put it away," she said, flipping her blonde dreadlocks over one shoulder. "What's the point of having a bar if you can't give your friends free drinks?"
"I'm a good tipper," he said.
"I know. You can order your next drink from Christian and tip him. He already thinks you're cute."
Greg rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on. I saw you eyeing him last week. You want me to set
you up?"
"Not really," Greg said. "I'm just going to go sit in the corner and drown my sorrows in quinine."
He headed over to an empty table and sat down. He'd only had a sip of the tonic water before Anna came over to join him with a tall glass of water for herself.
"What's up with you?" she asked.
Greg shrugged.
"You're depressed. Have you been listening to The Cure again?"
"No," Greg said. "Well, a little bit."
"Greg," she said, shaking her head.
"That's not why I'm depressed."
She reached out and stroked his cheek. "What's going on?"
He sighed, took a long drink of his tonic water, then set it down. "Let's see, my locker at work got broken into and somebody stole the shirt and boots that remind me of Justin, they stole all my CDs, poured a case of CheezWhiz on my car, and then wrote 'Die Faggot' in shoe polish across my locker. Oh, and they filled my lock with superglue and replaced my actual clothes with Dockers and penny loafers and my CDs with Michael Bolton and Kenny G."
"Jesus," Anna said, sitting up straight.
"And then I had sex with a guy from work."
"Well, that's not bad," she said. "Is it?"
He shrugged. "I didn't think so at the time. Until I woke up and he
was gone."
"Oh," she said. She took a sip of water. "Did he leave a note?"
"Nope."
"So�did he tell you why he left?"
"Haven't seen him, yet," he said. "It just happened this morning."
"Maybe he sleeps better alone."
Greg sighed and poked at the ice cubes in his glass. "And maybe it was a one night stand and I just didn't get the memo."
"Is he a player?"
"Not really. I mean, I don't know. He's just�he's seeing this other guy, and I thought because it wasn't serious that maybe he and I could�I think maybe he's just not into relationships."
"You haven't even talked to him, yet. Stop shooting yourself down. Are you sure you haven't been listening to a lot of The Cure lately? Maybe a little too much Morrisey?"
Greg laughed. "What?"
"I mean, I've never seen you do this to yourself over a guy before. Where's your confidence? You usually see what you want and just go for it. What's different now?"
"Things with Nick are complicated," he said.
"Wait. Nick? *The* Nick?"
Greg shifted in his chair and looked away from her.
"The guy you've been crushing on for, like, four years?"
"Actually, it's more like six."
"That Nick. The one you talk about all the time. That's the guy you slept with?"
He nodded.
"And?"
"And what? I woke up and he was gone."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about what happened before you fell asleep. How was it?"
"You know I don't kiss and tell."
Anna laughed loudly. "Bullshit you don't."
He grinned and looked down at his drink. "It was good," he said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Pretty much the best sex of my life."
"So why the hell are you moping around my bar?"
"Cuz he left. I think I was a pity fuck."
"A pity fuck," Anna said. "How do you go from best sex of your life to pity fuck in 15 seconds?"
"I don't know." He sighed. "Maybe if everything else hadn't happened first�my locker and everything�I don't know."
"What are they doing to the guy that did it?" she asked.
"Have to find him, first."
"You mean they don't know?"
Greg shook his head. "Not a clue."
"I thought finding criminals was your job."
"It's only been two days. The CSI assigned to the case is really good, plus the fact that it happened in our own lab really pisses her off. She'll figure it out."
"And then?'
Greg shrugged. "And then I find out which one of my coworkers thinks I'm a faggot who deserves to die."
"Maybe it's not somebody who works with you."
"No, it has to be. The lab's pretty secure. People can't just come in and wander around."
"That sucks," Anna said. "Did I tell you I had to fire Norah?"
"I thought you loved Norah," he said.
"I did. Until I found out she was skimming money from the till."
"Ouch."
"And it's not like she wrote 'dyke' on the door to my office or anything, but yeah. It sucks when you find out there's someone you work with who can't be trusted."
"I keep running it through my head, you know?" he asked. "And I can't think of anybody who'd do it. The people I work with, they're like my family."
Anna snorted.
"OK, they're not like *my* family. They're a lot more functional, though that's not really saying much. But we are kind of like family. We spend almost all our time together and I just can't�I can't think of one person who'd do that to me."
"Wish I could help you out," she said. "You need a refill?"
"Nah," he said. "I think one tonic and lime is my limit. I'm going to head in early, see if I can help out in the lab. DNA gets backed up a lot."
"See if you can talk to Nick?" Anna asked.
He shrugged and pushed his chair back. "Maybe."
She nodded and reached out to squeeze his hand. "Stop listening to The Cure, honey. They just make you mopey."
He grinned as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I promise," he whispered before he left.
**********
When he got to work he discovered that the DNA lab actually was backed up and the swing shift tech was more than happy to have Greg help out. Mia arrived a little before midnight and she and Greg moved around the lab silently and efficiently; they were caught up by one-fifteen.
"Greg," Grissom said sharply, pausing in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"Uh, testing for PSA," Greg said, looking up at him.
"What?"
"Prostate-specific antigen. The specimen lacked any visually identifiable spermatozoa but it was acid phosphatase-positive so I'm�"
"I know what's involved in testing for PSA. Why aren't you in the
field?"
"Um�am I supposed to be in the field?" Greg asked, leaning back
on his stool.
"Nick didn't grab you on his way out?"
Greg shook his head. "Haven't seen Nick all night."
"Huh. Well, as soon as you finish up, head back out to West Timber
Way."
"The B and E case?" Greg asked. "Did we get something new?"
"In a manner of speaking," Grissom said. "The husband was found dead."
"Whoa," Greg said. "Is it connected to the B and E?"
"Finding that out is your job."
Greg looked over at Mia. "Hey, could you�"
"I'm on it," she said. "The PSA test is for Warrick's case, right?"
"Right," Greg said, snapping his gloves off and trying not to run on his way to the locker room. Nick not taking him into the field was just a mistake. He probably had run out of there so fast it hadn't even crossed his mind. Or maybe he thought Greg was too busy in the DNA lab. There's no way Nick would have left him behind on purpose.
Right?
Because sneaking out while Greg was sleeping was one thing, but purposefully keeping him out of the field? Nick wouldn't do that. No matter what had happened between them, Nick wouldn't sabotage Greg's job just for the sake of his own comfort.
Would he?
Greg put his vest on quickly, pulled on his jacket and grabbed his crime scene kit and his keys. His little Jetta maybe wasn't as cool as one of the Tahoes, but it would get him to West Timber Way fast enough.
He really, really wanted to run out to the parking lot but he forced himself to remain cool. Just as he passed the front desk, Nick burst in through the front doors looking flustered and guilty.
Greg shifted his weight to one foot and cocked his head at Nick. "Looking for someone?" he asked.
Nick saw him and sighed. "Come on."
"Good to see you, too."
"Greg," Nick whispered under his breath. "Will you come on?"
**********
He hadn't forgotten Greg. Well, not on purpose. He'd just been so relieved to get out of the lab and avoid a confrontation that he'd been halfway to the crime scene before he remembered that it was Greg's case, too.
Greg was unusually silent on the ride over. He wasn't even bouncing in his seat. Usually, Nick could feel the energy bottled up inside Greg like a rubber band pulled taut, ready to fly across the room. Usually, even when Greg was sitting still he was moving, his feet tapping or his hands gesturing or his mouth moving a mile a minute telling one of his stories.
But Greg just sat still in the passenger seat and looked out the window, saying nothing.
"I, uh�" Nick cleared his throat. "Neighbor called in what sounded like a domestic disturbance. When patrol arrived on the scene they discovered Mr. White's body."
"Mmm," was all Greg said.
"After we walk through the scene I'm gonna take the one to ones and I want you to start the sketch."
"'kay."
Nick tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a deep breath. "Look, Greg, I'm sorry."
"For sneaking out on me this morning or for forgetting me tonight?"
"I didn't forget you."
"Oh. So you were going to leave me behind on purpose."
"What? No, no I just�" He sighed. "I was distracted."
"Mmm." Greg was back to one-syllable responses.
"Look, this is exactly why nothing can happen between us," Nick said. He cringed. He hadn't meant to put it so bluntly. "I mean�look, we work together."
Greg didn't say anything.
"And I'm your superior and we just�it would be a mistake."
"Fine," Greg said easily.
Nick looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Look, are you really OK with�"
"We fucked, Nick. It happens. I wasn't expecting a ring."
Nick didn't like how crude it sounded when Greg put it like that, but he didn't argue. "It's not�I mean, if we didn't work together maybe�"
"Don't worry about it," Greg said. "Just�I don't want what happened to screw up my job, OK? So don't forget me again."
Nick nodded. "I won't. I promise."
"Good," Greg said. He offered Nick a smile and Nick had always loved Greg's smile. He had to fight the urge to pull the Tahoe over and kiss Greg right there. "So, if Mr. White's dead, where's Mrs. White?"
Nick shrugged. "Good question."
**********
Nick and Greg stood side by side in the White's foyer, neither one of them saying anything for a long time.
"I�" Greg started.
"Yeah," Nick said.
"There's, what? Five, six liters of blood in an adult male?"
Nick nodded.
"And there's, what? Five, six liters of blood on the walls?"
"That would be my guess."
"There's more in here," came a voice from around the corner.
Nick made his way through the foyer carefully and stepped down into the living room where David was kneeling next to the body.
"Oh, God," Nick said, shaking his head.
"Hey, Nick," Greg said. "What's the yellow�Jesus. Uh, from the shape the body's in, I'm gonna guess the yellow stuff along with the blood spatter is brains."
"Most people assume that brain matter is gray," David said from his position next to Mr. White. "It's actually more of a yellowish-beige."
"Good to know," Greg said. "Um, just curious, but could all of this blood have come from that guy?"
"Easily," David said. "I know it looks like a lot, but it's probably not more than a liter or two."
"All right, then." Greg looked at Nick. "Uh, you photograph and I
sketch?"
Nick nodded and squatted down next to David so he could look at the body. "How'd you make an ID?" he asked as he looked at the man's bashed-in head.
"Wallet," David said. "Hopefully his prints are in the database because there's no way we're going to be able to compare dental records."
Nick looked at what was left of the man's mouth and nodded. "Somebody hated this guy."
"Takes a lot of rage to do something like this," David agreed.
"More than just an insurance scam gone bad," Nick said, standing up and looking around the room.
"Crime of passion?" David asked as he checked the man's liver temp.
"Maybe," Nick said. "Cheating on his wife, his girlfriend's husband finds out?"
"Maybe he had a one night stand and snuck out without leaving a note," Greg piped up from the corner where he was starting his sketch.
Nick clenched his jaw and nodded as he got his camera. He should have been expecting that.
Nick took photos while Greg made a preliminary sketch of the scene. After David removed the body to take it back to the morgue they collected samples of blood and brain matter. There were dark fibers on the light colored carpet near the blood pool that Greg picked up. Nick collected what looked like a splinter of wood and Greg found a small metal fragment. Nick fingerprinted the scene. Greg lifted footprints from the tile foyer floor. After they'd collected all trace evidence they studied the spatter patterns to determine the angles of impact and used string to establish the three-dimensional origin of each bloodstain pattern.
It took them hours and during that time Greg didn't say anything more than he had to. He was completely professional and he even offered Nick a couple of small smiles, but no matter what he'd said earlier, Greg wasn't fine. Greg was cold. Detached. Aloof, even, and Nick had never known Greg to be aloof.
After stringing the scene they stood side by side again, looking at the different points where the strings intersected, indicating the two-dimensional area of convergence: the area of origin for each separate spatter pattern.
"Yeah," Greg said as his eyes traveled across the room. "That's, what? Seven different places in the room Mr. White got his head bashed in? He put up a hell of a fight."
Nick nodded. He turned to look at the foyer where the strings intersected just a little bit above the floor. "I'd say the fatal blows were struck there," he said. His eyes followed the blood smears across the foyer floor into the living room where the blood pool was, where the body'd been discovered. "Perp pulled him into the living room where he'd be out of sight."
Greg shrugged. "What do we do now?" he asked.
"Document the stringing," Nick said.
"You photograph, I'll sketch," Greg said, pulling out his tape measure.
Everything Greg said sounded right. If someone had been observing them Nick was sure they wouldn't even notice that anything was wrong. But things were�different. And Nick knew he deserved it, knew Greg had every reason to be angry. It's not like Nick had really had a chance to explain it to him, to tell him that it wasn't Greg, it was just the situation that was wrong.
But even after Nick did explain, he didn't know if things would go back to the way they'd been, if he and Greg would ever have the same easy, teasing relationship they'd always had. He should have thought of that, of course. He should have thought of that before he kissed Greg. Or before Greg kissed him. He wasn't quite sure how it had happened anymore, it was just a blur of lips and teeth and tongue, Greg's fingers tight against his shoulders. Nick kissing down Greg's long neck, kissing the freckle just to the right of his Adam's apple, kissing the freckle in the hollow of his left collarbone. Greg's breath hot against Nick's skin, against his cheek, against his earlobe as he said�
"Am I doing something wrong?" Greg asked.
"What?" Nick asked, coming back to reality. He swallowed hard. "Uh, no. No, you're doing great."
"Because you were staring at me like I was doing something wrong." And there was no give in Greg's voice, not even a hint of teasing in it. Nick wanted to drop to his knees, cradle Greg's head in his hands, kiss him over and over again until he heard Greg's laugh again because he hadn't heard it all night and it wasn't until it was gone that he realized how much he loved that sound.
Instead Nick just said, "Just trying to figure out where to start." He lifted his camera and started taking photographs as Greg measured out and documented each convergence of string.
In the Tahoe on the drive back, Nick was tempted to say something, explain himself, explain to Greg about how the PD worked, how office politics worked, how as CSIs they were public figures expected to represent not just the lab but the entire LVPD in court and very often in the newspapers or on TV. How a romance between any CSI and trainee wasn't right�it wasn't just them. He almost started the conversation a hundred times but each time he bit back the words because he didn't know what to say. Besides, they were still on the clock and it was hardly the right time for a conversation like that.
"Pull over," Greg said suddenly.
"What? Greg, we're in the middle of the industrial�"
"Pull over. Pull over right now."
Nick pulled the Tahoe to the side of the deserted street lined with warehouses and storage spaces. "Are you OK? Are you gonna be sick or something?"
Greg didn't answer. He fumbled with his seatbelt and yanked it away from him once it was unbuckled, then opened the door and hopped out, slamming it behind him.
Nick turned off the Tahoe and pocketed his keys as he climbed out of the vehicle. Greg was walking quickly up the middle of the street. He stopped, and in the sulfur-yellow light of the streetlamps Nick could see him rake his fingers through his hair. He turned towards Nick and looked at him for a moment, took a few steps forward, turned around again, then turned back to Nick and walked quickly towards him.
"Are you OK?" Nick asked, leaning forward to see if he could tell
what was wrong.
"This isn't me, Nick," Greg said, shaking his head.
Nick frowned and took a step forward, "Greg, are you�"
"I don't do this. I don't play games. I don't lie about how I feel. And I don't know why I'm like this around you. I don't know what it is that makes me so nervous and weird and twisted up around you, but whatever it is, I'm just going to stop it and be myself, OK?"
"I�"
Greg moved towards Nick quickly, grabbed him by his vest and pulled him close. The last thing Nick saw before he closed his eyes were Greg's deep brown eyes, so deep he thought he'd drown in them. He moaned against Greg's mouth, tried to tell himself to pull away but he couldn't. He felt Greg's tongue against his lips, parted them and tasted Greg's mouth, wrapped his arms tight around Greg's body and pulled him close.
Greg broke the kiss after a moment and stepped back.
Nick lifted a hand up to touch his mouth as he tried to catch his
breath.
"That's me, Nick," Greg said. "And I'm really into you and I think you're into me and I just �I'm not the kind of guy who can pretend that nothing happened. So, we're gonna go back to work and after shift we're gonna talk. Really talk because this whole one night stand thing, I just can't do it. Not with you. And if we decide we're not going to pursue this, that's fine, but we're not going to just pretend that it's not there because that's weird and fucked up and if we're going to work together we have to figure this out."
Nick took a deep breath and nodded. "OK," was all he could say.
"We should get back to lab," Greg said, moving towards the Tahoe.
Nick just nodded again.
"Are you gonna need me to drive?"
Nick took a deep breath and looked at Greg, took in Greg's lanky body and the set of his shoulders and that energy, that energy that was back bubbling beneath the surface. "That would probably be a good idea," Nick said, trying to concentrate on anything other than the way Greg's body had felt so perfect pressed against his.
Then Greg moved forward to take the keys from Nick's hand and Nick could smell him, smell his skin and he reached up and cradled the back of Greg's head in his hand and pulled him forward into another kiss. He didn't care that they were on the clock. He didn't care that they were standing in the middle of the street and that anybody could drive by at any time and see them, not when Greg's body was pressed against his and Greg's arms were around his waist and Greg's mouth was so gentle and so demanding.
And that's what he'd been afraid of. He knew it. He wasn't afraid of hurting his career or Greg's. He wasn't afraid of people finding out. He was afraid of kissing Greg like that and not being able to stop, not ever, no matter what. He'd never let himself lose control, not with anyone, but with Greg he didn't even have a choice.
Greg pulled away again and he was grinning and, God, that smile made
Nick a little dizzy.
"Work first," Greg whispered, reaching up to stroke Nick's lower lip with his thumb. "Kisses later."
Nick just nodded. It didn't matter what he told himself or how he tried to justify it, Nick knew the truth�he was in way over his head and, strangely enough, he was OK with that.
