A/N: Post-ep for 15.08 Rubbery Homicide. I don't know where this came from. It just did. Call it a friendship piece. I really liked the end scene between Greg and Morgan. I like that TPTB showed how Greg had changed and grown over the years and was having a little identity crisis, questioning himself and the direction his life had taken. I looked it up, and couldn't believe it, but our little DNA tech turned CSI is pushing forty.

The dialogue at the start is the final scene taken straight from the episode itself, and isn't mine. It's just a reminder, and a lead into the story for those of you who haven't seen the episode.

Identity Crisis.

MORGAN: Shift's over.

GREG: That's not work. A guy could tell I was law-enforcement across a dark club just by looking at me.

MORGAN: So? You are.

GREG: But it's not who I am. It doesn't define me. I've been looking at old photos, different stuff I used to do – parties, travelling…"

MORGAN: Six am. Kind of early for an identity crisis.

Greg sighs.

MORGAN: Listen, Greg. People are never just one thing. Like, look at your friends. This guy, Mr Sweet Dad, you really think that's all he is?

GREG: I once watched that guy eat a beer can. True story.

MORGAN: People are complicated. It's never that simple. Everybody has layers.

GREG: If people read 'cop', maybe I'll at least get a free cup of coffee.

MORGAN: If they give you a doughnut, that means they're making fun of you.

GREG: How about if I update my status to, say, taking a friend out for a beer?

MORGAN: Me? Yes, I would love that.

Nick came into the break room, just as Greg was updating his social media page. "How about taking two friends out for a beer?" he said, creeping up on Greg and Morgan sitting side by side, and reading Greg's post over his shoulder.

"Or three?" Sara added, close on Nick's heels.

Spinning around in their seats, Greg and Morgan shared a long look and smile, and then a shrug. "The more, the merrier," Greg said, closing the lid on his laptop. "I need cheering. But only if you two promise to behave yourselves."

"We always do," Nick said, winking at Sara.

Greg and Morgan stood up to leave, and the foursome headed out of the break room.

"So, drinks at the Dollhouse, is it?" Sara asked, stifling her smile as she wrapped an affectionate arm around Greg's shoulders.

"Get out of here," Greg exclaimed, but the wide grin on his face spoke volume about his state of mind.

They didn't go far, and certainly not to the Dollhouse, as ten minutes later they were pulling up at O'Rourke's Public House. They commandeered a booth, not that the place was busy, Greg sliding to the end of the bench with Morgan taking a seat next to him while Nick and Sara sat down across from them. Drinks were ordered and served, laughter and jokes exchanged, as they regaled Morgan of the more bizarre and kinky case files they had worked on over the last fifteen years or so. Just when they thought they had seen it all, a case like the one they'd just investigated came and shattered that belief.

"Fifteen years," Sara mused, "doesn't just time flies?"

"Does it?" Morgan said. "Fifteen years ago, I was this sullen teenager, angry at the world and at my father. I couldn't wait to grow up."

"Am I old?" Greg asked suddenly. He'd been lost in thoughts, staring at his beer, and his question came out of nowhere.

Sara frowned, and to stop herself from laughing brought her glass to her mouth while glancing at Nick who wasn't even trying to conceal his amusement. Greg was pushing forty, but both Nick and Sara were a few years past that milestone. Morgan on the other hand, well, she was still a baby.

"I mean," Greg went on, unaware, in the same musing and very serious tone, "I don't feel old."

"Well, I do," Nick said, "Every day." With a wince, he rubbed at his lower back. "I got this pain in my back…" His words died in a fit of laughter, and Sara gently nudged his arm, telling him to show a little more compassion.

"You're not old," Morgan stated categorically, and when Greg made a sceptical pout, "You're not!"

"I used to be this fun guy, you know? Into latex and Marilyn Manson, and yeah, rubber dolls."

"Like Barbie dolls?" Morgan asked, with a raised brow.

"I heard about that," Nick mused, nodding his head.

"Action men type thing," Greg replied, and laughing he shook his head and took a sip of his beer. "But I'd never have a full-size one made, let alone wear it."

"You're not old, Greg," Sara said, "You've just grown up, that's all. Happens to all of us."

"Hear, hear," Nick muttered in a chuckle, earning himself an affectionate smile from Sara.

"I just think I'm letting life pass me by, that's all. When I left home, you know, all these years ago, I promised myself I wouldn't turn into my father. But I think I have."

"You haven't," Sara said, laughing.

"Well, for starters, you haven't got any kids," Morgan tried.

"That he knows of," Nick quipped.

"Or a wife," Morgan added, frowning at Nick.

"Or even a girlfriend," Sara went on good-humouredly.

Nick burst into loud laughter. "Talking of girlfriends," he said, between two chuckles, "if you had to choose a rubber doll, you know, to wear or just hang about with, who would it be?"

"For me, Daniel Craig," Morgan said, "Without a shadow of a doubt."

Greg and Nick lifted matching interested brows.

"Me too," Sara exclaimed, surprised to have that in common with Morgan, and frowned musingly. "Thinking of it, there was something quite James Bond-esque about that jacket and bowtie you were wearing the other night, Greg."

"Ah, ah," Greg deadpanned, "Very funny."

"What about you?" Morgan asked Nick. "What kind of doll would you have?"

"Me? Nah, that's not for me. Not my style. I prefer real life, real flesh and..."

"Blood?" Greg provided, happy that Morgan had taken the limelight away from him.

"I was going to say…muscle," Nick said, his words muffled as he brought his glass to his mouth and downed his beer to hide his embarrassment.

Sara gave Nick an indulgent smile before turning to Morgan. "So, Daniel Craig, huh?"

The banter went on for a while longer until Greg picked up his glass, and after checking the time on his phone downed the rest his beer.

"Another one?" Sara offered, raising her almost empty glass to all of them.

"I can't," Greg said, picking up his phone from the table and standing to slip it in his pants pocket. "I should be getting home, get some beauty sleep before we have to clock on again."

"Me too," Morgan said, quickly finishing her drink and pushing to her feet next to Greg.

Nick and Sara smiled and nodded their heads, and watched as the pair slid out of the booth. Greg craned his neck as he tried to catch the waitress's eye.

"We'll get these," Sara said, glancing at Nick.

Greg paused. "You sure?"

"Sure," Nick said, "Call it an early Christmas present."

"See you both tonight," Sara said. And then, when Greg and Morgan were out of earshot, "You think we crashed their party?"

"Oh, yeah," Nick said, turning in his seat to watch them go, "Definitely. But wasn't it fun?" He swivelled back around and picked up his beer. "Same again?"

"Sure."

Nick half-stood, raised his bottle at the waitress behind the bar and motioned for two more. "Besides, dating in the workplace never works out," he said, sitting back down. "We did them a favour."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Sara said, raising her brow enigmatically.