Post ep (sort of) Kiss Before Frying

A/N. I own nothing but a beat up PT and a cranky three legged dog.

What Did You Do?

Chapter One

Nick Stokes cracked one eye open and swore softly. This was really, really not good. He was, apparently, naked. And in insane pain. The little bit of light streaming though the crack in the black out curtains hurt his eyes. His very hair seemed to hurt his head. Then it got worse. A groan came from somewhere behind him. He braved the light induced pain to scan for his weapon, his phone, even his clothes, only to come up empty. He chanced a look over his left shoulder at the unknown groaner and instantly recognized the permanent scars lacing his bed mates back.

"Greg?"

Another groan from underneath a pillow was his only reply. Irrational irritation coupled with relief that he wasn't (probably) in danger goaded his series of backwards kicks at his fellow CSI, punctuating his diatribe; "Why are you here? What did you do to me? What the fuck did you do?"

Greg punctuated this diatribe/kick with his own series of "Stop it! Fucking stop it would you? Fucking OWW!"

Greg, sprawled spread eagle and face down, pulled the pillow back over his head and took inventory. First of all, he fucking hurt. Everywhere. But everything seemed to be where it belonged at least. He pulled at one corner of the pillow and surveyed his unwilling bedfellow. Nick held the crook of his elbow over his eyes and his face held an expression that Greg couldn't honestly say he'd ever seen on the man before.

"Okay, one, this, I'm pretty sure, is my place not yours, so that's why I'm here. And B, unless your ass is sore and fuck…sticky…then I think I'm the one who should be asking what you did to me. And 3, the last thing I remember is you telling that red-headed waitress you were flirting with to leave the bottle. Fucking tequila. Never fucking again I swear on my GCMS and all that is holy." Greg tried to prop up his head on his hands and grimaced. "On the plus side, judging from the fact that I'm stuck to the sheets, I apparently had a good time, too."

Nick shook his head slowly from side to side slowly, panic starting to well up in him. "No, no, no, not again. I'll have to quit my job and move to fucking Alaska. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh my god, I'm gonna be sick." He shot up and headed for the door to the bathroom.

"Very flattering, thanks. Good to know that the idea of sex with me makes you nauseous. Maybe that's why I have such great luck with these types of things. Maybe I should just become a monk or something."

"Shut up, Greg. Seriously, please, just shut it." preceding the sound of retching. Greg grimaced and tasted his own bile. Greg heard the flush and then realized he had to pee like a racehorse. Damn. He snatched a pair of boxer briefs from the floor and threw them on, wondering why they seemed too big. He realized they weren't his, blushed a bit, shrugged and stood on wobbly legs to follow Nick's path to the bathroom, to find him on the floor across from the toilet, elbows on knees and face in hands.

"Dude, I gotta go. Your choices are stay for the show or leave, 'cause I'm not pulling an Ashton and using the kitchen sink."

From behind his hands Nick groaned and said "Just go, man. I don't think I can move."

Greg used the facilities, marveling slightly that he could actually hold that much, flushed and splashed some cold water on his hands and face. He stepped out into the dark hallway and returned a few moments later with a bottle of water from the fridge. He opened the medicine cabinet, pulled out the aspirin, and downed a few with half the water. He shook a couple more onto his palm and stooped down to push them into Nick's hands, along with the water bottle. "Here. If you can keep it down, it may help. I'm going to go make coffee and see if I've got any food. You're car's not here, so once we're actually sober, we'll take a cab to the lab and get mine, then go find yours. I'll be in the kitchen. I think we may need to talk about this."

Nick nodded, face still in hands. Once Greg left the room he dragged his hands slowly down his face and picked up the water bottle, downing the rest of the cold water and the aspirin. "We need to talk." Yay. Every guys least favorite sentence in the universe. Speaking of the universe, Nick wondered what the hell he had done lately to piss it off. How had comforting a friend over a screwed up almost-relationship and not-really breakup lead to this? He just hated seeing Greg so dejected and insecure. That chick really did a number on his self esteem and Nick hated her for it. He hated himself for instigating it, too. But how did comforting a friend end up with them hung over, naked, and in bed together? He should have never had that first shot, just stuck with the light beer. But Greg had goaded him into it. Fuck it, he should know better than to drink heavily around anyone he cared for. And he did. Care. For Greg. Not that he had ever had any intention of acting on those feelings, because that could only end badly. Because Greg was certainly straight. And a colleague. And straight. Wasn't he? Now that Nick thought about it, Greg didn't seem as upset as he was about what had happened.

Nick spent a few more moments in self flagellation, then a few more moments determining whether or not he could make it to the kitchen without retching. Eventually, he decided to risk it and pushed himself up the wall and out the door towards the kitchen and the smell of coffee brewing.

Greg turned from the stove as Nick stumbled into the room and dropped heavily into a kitchen chair. He eyed him warily and lifted an appraising eyebrow. "I think my Star Wars jammies look better on you than on me." He cocked half a grin and put a steaming cup of coffee in front of the scowling man. Nick unconsciously drew a deep breath of coffee steam gratefully in and let out a long blissful sigh. "God, I love your coffee." He knew it would probably have two sugars in it, too, just the way he liked it. That fact hurt somewhere behind his heart for a moment. If this thing went as badly as it could, he was really going to miss this man. Nick cautiously sipped at the steaming coffee, lost in his thoughts. Eventually a plate appeared in front of him.

"We got lucky, I had eggs. No bacon though, sorry."

"I didn't know you could cook, G."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Nicky." He sat across from Nick and sipped at his coffee and picked at some toast while Nick realized how hungry he was and that cheesy scrambled eggs with onions and peppers might be the best hangover food, ever. Once Nick showed signs of slowing down, Greg dove head first into dangerous waters. "We gonna talk about this?"

"Yeah. I'm really sorry Greg. Look, if this makes you uncomfortable, I'll switch shifts. I don't know how I let this happen. I just….I'm just really sorry."

"You said you couldn't believe this was happening again. What was that about? "

Nick dragged is fork slowly through the remains of his eggs as he gathered his thoughts. Without looking up he quietly asked Greg if he knew why he'd left the DFW PD.

"No. I never wanted to pry. I always wondered though. A lot of times at a scene you seem to have more of a cop vibe going than a CSI vibe, if you know what I mean. It seems like sometimes you miss being a cop."

Nick sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "I made a pass at my partner."

Greg's jaw went slack. That seemed so unlike Nick. "Was she hot?" he asked, hoping for a casual tone.

"He was. He was also my best friend and married. He didn't take it to HR but he did request a different shift and a new partner. He told me to forget about it, but said that maybe DFW PD was not the best place for someone of 'my preferences.' That's when I started putting in resumes in other cities and swore off hard alcohol." Nick grimaced. "And now I've gone and stepped in it again. I can't believe what I've risked. My career, my health, you…. Greg, I've got to ask you, did you sleep with Ellen? Did you use protection? "

Greg's emotions cycled from curiosity to irritation to anger. "No, I didn't sleep with her. If I had, I would have used protection. Apparently I'm only stupid enough to not use protection with you, jack-ass. And how about you? Been tested recently? Because, as I recall, you were the one on record as sleeping with a hooker."

Nick winced. "I'm sorry Greg. Look, I'm going to go ahead and call a cab. And I'll just stay away from you, okay? And yeah, so you know, I've been tested once every six months since Christy. And there hasn't been anyone since her. I'll put in a transfer request tomorrow, see if I can't get switched to days. If not, I'll pull up my resume and start looking for something else." Nick felt the bile rising in his throat again, this time for totally different reasons. He shrugged out of the kitchen chair without looking Greg in the face, afraid of the disgust he knew he would find there and went in search of his clothes, phone and wallet. Pulling his wallet out of his jeans pocket he discovered he had no cash. Fuck, it just keeps getting better and better. He pulled out his cell and dialed Warrick's number. "Rick, yeah man sorry to bug you, but could you give me a ride? I'm in trouble here and I seem to have misplaced my vehicle." Warrick laughed and assured him that he knew exactly where the SUV was. "Where you at, man? Which chick got you to their place?" Nick shuddered and gave Rick the corner as an address, hoping that he' wouldn't recognize the area. "Yeah man, I'll be there in about 20, but expect details for my trouble." Warrick hung up, laughing. Nick headed for the front door, hoping to avoid Greg on his way out.

Greg, however, had different ideas. He was leaning on the wall to the side of the front door, arms crossed, seemingly busy studying the toes of his Star Wars slippers. "If space is what you want, that's fine. I understand you're uncomfortable with what happened. I wish you would have cared to ask me how I felt about what happened, but whatever, Nick. Don't feel like you should leave your job, or even grave because of it. But if you want space, who am I to deny that? I'll give it to you, don't worry." He raised his eyes to Nick's for a split second, only long enough for Nick to see the pain and anger there. It shot through him like an electric shock and he was stunned, only able to stare back in dismay. Greg dropped his gaze back to his slippers and pushed off the wall heading for his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. "I am so, so sorry Greg." Nick said softly, knowing Greg wouldn't hear it. He let himself out the front door and latched the door quietly behind him.