This has been beta-ed by the lovely Katymoonbeam, but any remaining mistakes are mine. Having been indoctrinated, I give this fic as a present to Katy, because it's her fault it got written in the first place any feedback is appreciated, hope you enjoy it.
They were crowded in to a booth at one of the casino breakfast bars, the kind that opened at 5am to sell coffee to the all night gamblers. It hadn't been a particularly easy shift, but for once there hadn't been a murder, which, in Las Vegas, was a cause for celebration.
The four of them had been sitting for an hour when the tiredness suddenly kicked in, and they realised that nothing sounded so nice as a good day's sleep. Greg excused himself to use the bathroom and when he came back he found Nick sitting alone among the debris of their meal.
"Where're Warrick and Sara?"
"They split; both said they had to get some shut eye. Don't blame them really; Sara's been staring at a computer screen all night."
"It's kinda cute really, that they both think we haven't figured it out yet." Greg slid back in to the booth as he spoke, opposite Nick.
"What'd you mean?" Nick's brow creased slightly as he tried to make some sense of Greg's statement through the rapidly descending fog of sleep.
"Warrick and Sara. Come on man, you must have seen it." Nick shook his head, still at a bit of a loss
"How can you be a CSI3 and not have noticed?"
Nick scowled, "if you've got somethin' to say G, just say it."
"Warrick. Sara. Oh come on, you really don't know? They're seeing each other…like seeing each other."
Nick was frankly stunned, and his first reaction was denial. "No way, 'Rick would have told me, or I'd've found out before now."
Greg just looked at him pityingly.
"Alright then Smartass, how do you know so much?" Nick challenged his companion, which suited Greg just fine, he loved showing off his knowledge.
He held up a finger, "One, Sara knows how Warrick has his eggs. Say what you like, that's an intimate thing." He held up a second finger, "two, when Warrick has a bad case, who does he go to? Sara." A third finger went up, "three, some of the arguments they've had in my lab were so fake they might well have had scripts and finally, and most conclusively, fourth, I saw them macking in the parking lot about a month ago." Greg grinned as he rattled off his list, enjoying the varying looks on Nick's face as he went from denial to scepticism through exasperation and, as Greg named his final reason, a smile broke out on Nick's face and he held up a hand in acknowledgement.
There was a short pause in the conversation then, "So how do I take my eggs G?"
"Scrambled, with dill and a little black pepper, but no salt," replied Greg, without missing a beat. "And before you ask, Nick, you're the one I go to when I've had a tough day, and you come to me, we never fight in the lab and we have never kissed in the parking lot."
Nick blushed lightly, both at being so thoroughly predictable and remembering the time Grissom almost caught the two of them kissing in the locker room.
He smiled at Greg. "Let's just hope that no one at work is as observant as you when it comes to relationships." He tossed down a few bills and he and Greg got up and left the restaurant. Greg, pleased with Nick's praise, preened for a moment before Nick brought him back down to earth with a bump.
As they reached the car Nick grabbed Greg's hand and pulled him in close for a chaste kiss on the lips. "Course, they don't have to be that brilliant to notice that you've changed your address…"
Greg slapped him lightly on the shoulder but couldn't bring himself to leave Nick's embrace.
"After all, they are CSIs…"
