Betting Man
By
St. Bridget
Nick Stokes leaned against his locker and appreciatively watched the retreating form of Greg Sanders as he left the locker room. "Mmmm," he hummed unconsciously.
His best friend Warrick Brown followed his gaze. "Why don't you ask him out, man?"
Nick laughed bitterly. "Are you kidding? He's as straight as they come."
"How do you know?" Warrick asked curiously.
"Gee, I don't know," Nick responded sarcastically. "Maybe because I've never heard him talk about anything besides girls?"
"So?" Warrick replied. "I've never heard you talk about anything but girls, and you're not straight."
Nick didn't have a reply to that. It was true he was very careful to keep his private life private. At work, he was careful to cultivate an image of a consummate ladies' man. Warrick had only found out the truth by accident, when they were out at a bar and a rather drunk Nick commented on one of the male patrons. "Touche".
"So, what's stopping you?"
"I don't think I could handle the humiliation of being shot down," Nick said.
Warrick eyed him speculatively. "I'll bet you you can't get a date with Greg."
That hit Nick in his male pride. He either accepted the bet and suffered the humiliation of being rejected, or declined the bet and suffered the humiliation of being a coward. "What are the terms?"
Warrick thought a minute. "Full, sit-down dinner at a nice restaurant, and you pick him up. And you can't tell him it's a bet."
"What do I get if I win?"
"Date's on me," Warrick replied. "And if you lose, my next date's on you."
Nick considered the terms. He was truly between a rock and a hard place. Either way, his pride was going to suffer. Might as well go down in a blaze of glory. "You're on."
Next shift, Nick stuck his head into the DNA lab where Greg was bouncing along to his usual loud music. "Hey, Greg, got a minute?"
Greg turned to face him. "Yeah, sure, Nick, what do you want?"
Nick took in Greg's spiky brown hair, sneakers, and brown eyes regarding him curiously. His courage failed him. "Nothing. Never mind."
"Okay." Greg turned back to his work, and Nick watched his last chance go up in smoke.
"Will you go out with me?" He blurted.
"What?" Greg whipped around to face him again, shock on his face.
Nick looked down at the floor, face red with embarrassment. "Will you go out with me?" he repeated in a voice barely above a whisper.
Greg looked at him, his expression unreadable. "What if I said I'm not interested in guys?"
"You know, just forget it." Nick turned to leave but was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"What if I said I am?" Greg asked softly.
Nick was confused. "So, what are you saying, G? Yes, or no? My heart's on my sleeve, here."
Greg didn't move his hand. "Yes," he said.
Nick wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Yes?"
"Yes," Greg repeated, firmer this time.
Nick still couldn't believe his ears. "Really?"
Greg grinned. "Really."
The smile on Nick's face lit up the whole lab. "How's Friday night sound?"
"Friday night sounds great," Greg replied.
"Great," Nick said. "I'll pick you up about 8. Dress nice"
Greg's grin widened, almost matching Nick's. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Me, too." Practically dancing, Nick went in search of Warrick. Victory was most definitely sweet.
