Who Are You When I'm Not Looking, a csi fanfic

A/N: As usual, I don't own anything to do with CSI. I also don't own Blake Shelton's song, Who Are You When I'm Not Looking.

Who Are You When I'm Not Looking

My oh my, you're so good looking

Hold yourself together like a pair of bookends

But I've not tasted all your cooking

Who are you when I'm not looking?

Nick Stokes still didn't know how he'd managed to get so lucky. He'd survived more than most people had to live through in their lives, molested at the age of nine, stalked and thrown out of a second story window, as well as kidnaped and buried alive in the course of his job. That really wasn't what he considered himself lucky about, though. He felt he was incredibly lucky to have captured the heart of one Greg Sanders. Quirky, gentle, boyishly handsome, Greg Sanders, one of the country's top DNA technicians. And oh, could the man cook!

He'd always wondered, though, exactly what Greg did when Nick wasn't home.

Do you pour a little something on the rocks?

Slide down the hallway in your socks?

When you undress, do you leave a path?

Then sink to your nose in a bubble bath?

It was nearly seven a.m., and Nick was just slipping into the house after a long shift. The case had been solved, the perpetrator caught, an easy case, as cases went. Greg had spent the night at home, a rare true night off without being on call.

Walking into the kitchen, Nick set his keys on the counter, his eyes straying to the bottle of whiskey. Nick knew he hadn't left the bottle sitting there, as it had been weeks since he'd had anything on the rocks, he much preferred a good beer. Greg touched the hard stuff even more infrequently than he did. It had to have been Greg that got the whiskey out, though.

Moving down the hall, a smile quirked the corners of his mouth upward. There was a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom. Nick gathered them up as he went, imagining the way Greg would have stripped. He felt the first stirrings of desire at the images playing in his head. Retrieving a sock from the hardwood floor, Nick noticed a slight gathering of dust, heavier at the toes, but coating most of the bottom of the sock. This brought forth an image of Greg, sliding down the hallway in his socks, being very much the juvenile he still thought himself as. This caused Nick's cock to further swell with blood, and now it was becoming almost painfully constricted by his jeans.

Depositing Greg's clothes in the hamper, Nick moved towards the open bathroom door. The scents of lavender and vanilla wafted out to him, and he could imagine the younger man lounging in mountains of fragrant bubbles. Stripping quickly, so he wouldn't have to continue using his imagination, Nick slipped into the bathroom.

Nick took in the sight of Greg, reclining in the tub with bubbles in his hair. His right hand rested on a condensation covered glass with the remains of a few ice cubes and amber colored liquid. His head was leaning against the back of the tub, eyes closed, a languid smile on his face. His other hand was no where to be seen, so Nick assumed it was somewhere under the water. The smile widened when Nick settled into the tub over top of him.

"Who are you when I'm not looking?" Nick murmured softly into Greg's neck, as he began kissing the flesh below Greg's ear – a spot that always drove the younger man wild.

The first time Nick had murmured that phrase to Greg, the younger man had given him a strange look, but hadn't inquired further, apparently finally figuring it out on his own. Now, he said, "I'm sure your imagination did a fine job of figuring that out today." He wrapped his legs around Nick's waist, pulling the older man flush against him, so their hard cocks brushed against each other in the soapy water.

"Oh, God!" Nick's voice was so low and husky, he barely recognized it as his own.

"I'm ready for you, Nicky. Take me, please!"

Only needing to be told once, Nick positioned his cock head at Greg's entrance, pushing slowly but steadily into his lover's body. Leaning down to nibble Greg's earlobe, Nick murmured, "You feel so good, baby! So tight!"

Bracing his hands on the edge of the tub to either side of Greg's head, Nick propped himself up so he could look into the younger man's eyes as he thrust into him. Greg's caramel colored eyes were filled with equal measures love and raw lust.

Greg's hands went to the backs of Nick's shoulders, blunt fingernails digging into the taut muscles of Nick's upper back. Nick hissed at the pleasure/pain this produced.

Pulling Nick back down to him, Greg murmured, "Come for me, Nicky!" before licking a hot stripe from Nick's ear down his neck to the juncture between neck and shoulder. Locking his teeth on the older man's flesh, he bit just hard enough to breech the pleasure/pain barrier again, knowing it would drive Nick over the edge.

With a strangled cry, Nick shot his semen into Greg's body, felt Greg's cock twitch as the younger man shot his semen into the water between them.

When they'd both come down from their post orgasm highs, Nick turned so he was sitting in the bath with his back to Greg's chest. Greg's arms wrapped around Nick's chest, and he quietly asked, "How was your day?"

My oh my, you're so good-looking

Hold yourself together like a pair of bookends

But I've not tasted all your cooking

Who are you when I'm not looking?

I wanna know

Yes, Nick Stokes definitely considered himself lucky. Greg knew exactly what Nick needed after bad cases. He just seemed to know, even when Nick didn't seem to know himself.

He'd tried to repay the favor as much as possible, but Greg just didn't seem to get mad. The younger man's sense of humor seemed to be able to bleed off any anger he might be feeling.

Do you break things when you get mad?

Eat a box of chocolates 'cause you're feeling bad?

Do you paint your toes 'cause you bite your nails?

Call up momma when all else fails?

The first thing Nick noticed today, as he set his keys on the kitchen counter, was the shattered coffee cup on the floor by the connecting door to the garage. His eyes were drawn up from the broken pieces of ceramic to the wall. There was a dent in the dry wall, where the cup had hit, as well as some divots around it, and coffee dried where it had run down the wall.

Concern washed through Nick, settling in his stomach. This was unlike Greg. His happy go lucky Greg could usually just brush off anger and despair as if it were a thin layering of dust.

A muffled sob from deeper in the house caught his attention, and he quickly moved towards their bedroom. Greg needed him, and he'd be damned if he would stand around and allow the love of his life to be in such pain any longer.

In the bedroom, he found Greg curled around a pillow, his back spasming through his sobs. He was fully dressed, except for his feet, which were bare. A flash of red around Greg's toes caught Nick's attention, but couldn't hold it for very long with the condition Greg was in. An empty box of chocolates – the little paper cups that had held the individual pieces were scattered across the bed – had been discarded on the floor.

The phone was also discarded on the bed, resting on Nick's side.

Not wanting to startle the younger man with a sudden touch, Nick said, "Greg, baby, what's wrong?" He tried to think what case Greg had been assigned to, but nothing came to mind. He'd been so wrapped up in his own case, he hadn't seen Greg all shift, hadn't even known when the younger man had left the lab to head home.

Nick crawled up on the bed, wrapping himself around his lover, his hands going to Greg's where they clenched the pillow.

Suddenly, Greg twisted around, so he was facing Nick, his face burrowing into Nick's chest. His tears quickly created a wet spot on the older man's T-shirt.

"He was just a little boy, Nicky! Just a little boy, and they let him starve, then threw him out with the trash!" Greg's hands grabbed fistfuls of Nick's T-shirt.

On second thought, Nick had heard something about the emaciated little boy found discarded in a Rubber Maid container. He somehow hadn't caught that it was Greg who had found the boy, though.

Not sure what else to do, Nick just held Greg, letting him cry himself out, occasionally voicing a calming, "Sh..."

When Greg had finally calmed again, he sat up and wiped his eyes, giving Nick a bit of a sheepish look, as he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"Sorry, I just... I tried calling Mom, but for a change she didn't answer. I guess I just lost it." Giving Nick a bemused look, Greg said, "Nicky?"

Nick hadn't heard anything Greg had said, because his eyes were locked on Greg's toenails. Bright. Red. Toenails.

Finally meeting Greg's gaze, he saw that Greg had turned beet red in embarrassment.

"You... You painted your toenails, G?" Nick managed to get out in a voice gone suddenly heavy with the southern drawl he usually managed to keep under wraps.

Greg gave a hesitant nod, "I did it for you. Do you like it?"

Reaching out a tentative finger to stroke across Greg's toenails, he huskily said, "God, that's hot, G!" He didn't know how Greg had figured out his one deeply hidden fetish, but the younger man had, and Nick was beyond turned on by it. "Can I watch, next time?"

Nodding more confidently, this time, Greg watched the look on Nick's face morph from desire to something else. "What is it, Nicky?"

"After..." Nick didn't finish the sentence, just waved his hand as if to say, "everything that happened today," "You probably aren't in the mood." He glanced down at the bulge in his jeans, let out a muttered, "Damn!" and moved to get off the bed.

Greg's hand on his wrist stopped him. "No, not really," he started, pushing Nick down so he was laying with his back against the headboard. As he continued speaking, he began to work at Nick's belt and jeans. "Let me take care of you, though."

"Baby, you don't have to. I'll just..." again the wave of the hand, this time indicating the bathroom. He didn't get a chance to protest further, as Greg got his jeans down far enough to reveal Nick's throbbing cock.

When Greg's tongue trailed up the vein, Nick let out a gasp of pleasure.

Nick's hands wandered to Greg's hair, tangling in the spiked locks, as Greg's tongue twisted expertly around Nick's shaft.

After dipping his tongue into Nick's slit, Greg drew the engorged cock into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. He continued to tease the heated flesh with his tongue, while sucking it with every fiber of his being. Letting out a happy hum, he was rewarded with Nick's tense shout of, "Oh, Greg! Fuck!" and a mouthful of tangy semen, which he happily swallowed.

Releasing Nick's spent cock with a pop, Greg crawled up and rested his head against Nick's chest. "Hold me, please," was all he managed to get out before they both slipped into exhausted sleep.

Who are you when I'm not around?

When the door is locked and the shades are down?

Do you listen to your music quietly?

And when it feels just right, are you thinkin' of me?

Greg had managed to get out of the lab a couple of hours ahead of Nick, who had to stay behind and take care of paperwork.

At home, Nick found the door locked and shades down, which really wasn't surprising for this time of day, as they were both usually asleep by now and needed to keep the morning sun out of the house as much as possible.

What surprised him when he walked in was the quiet music reverberating throughout the house. Usually Greg had his music cranked up so loud it made thinking damn near impossible, and echoed off the walls. The music he had on right now just seemed to drift on the air currents throughout the house. It wasn't the usual rock and roll the younger man indulged in, either. It was soothing, romantic, in nature.

Other than the music, the house was quiet. Nick thought about calling out, but he didn't want to break the calm that seemed to be traveling in the wake of the music.

Moving down the hall, he saw some light coming from their otherwise darkened bedroom, so he knew Greg was awake – probably laying in bed reading.

What he saw instead, took his breath away.

Greg, naked, laying in the middle of their bed, his head propped up on their pillows, eyes tightly closed, and highly aroused. His hands were traveling over his chest, teasing his nipples to hard peaks. He had yet to touch his cock, which stood proudly amidst a forest of dark pubic hair, rock hard and leaking.

As Nick continued to watch, Greg stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with saliva. Those fingers, he moved to his entrance, while the other hand traveled down to his cock. As he pushed his fingers into himself, Greg dipped the index finger of his other hand into the pre-cum covering his slit.

Nick just caught Greg's whispered, "Nicky! Feels so good!"

He couldn't stop the audible hitch in his breath, as he watched Greg lick his finger clean. Greg's eyes opened, and met Nick's, as he continued to touch himself, now engulfing his cock in his hand and beginning to stroke, as the fingers of his other hand found his sweet spot.

When Nick's hand closed over Greg's and urged the younger man to move his hand faster on his cock, Greg let loose with a cry, semen shooting in long white streams to cover his hand. Nick felt a wet spot spreading in his briefs, as he came in his pants.

I wanna know

My oh my, you're so good looking

But who are you when I'm not looking?

While Nick knew he would never truly be able to know what Greg did when he wasn't around, he was pretty sure he had a good idea, and it only served to make him love the man more.