Title: Breathe
Author: Madeira3188
Fandom: CSI
Character/Pairing: Nick/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the next.
Authors Notes: Fluff. Just...fluff. I almost feel like drowning myself in battery acid from the sheer fluffiness of it. Please, don't shoot.
Greg couldn't stop pacing. It didn't help that his hands decided to take a life of their own and began to shake profusely. It was getting to him. The dull pitter patter of footsteps, the noise of the clock slowly ticking as the seconds go by – it was all getting to him.
He fought the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. No, I need to stay strong. Don't be such a pussy, Greg, you can do this, he thought. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down.
He stopped his pacing. He glanced at the clock again, noting the time. Two hours. Two hours of waiting, two hours of nothing. He focused his attention at closed door before him. God, he thought, when is this going to fucking end?
Dozens of scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the next. He was caught in the what ifs, the could haves, the should haves, and the--
"Baby."
He turned around, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God you're here." He rested his head on the broad shoulders of his visitor. "I don't know what to do. I need...I need...fuck..."
Strong hands rubbed at his back."Shh, baby, it's going to be okay. I'm so sorry. Shh, Greggo, I'm so sorry. I was stupid and I left my cell in the car, and by the time we finished, it was too late and--"
Greg felt the tears that he's been so adamantly holding fall. "They won't let me in, they won't tell me what's going on," he sobbed. "It's been two hours. Two fucking hours. I'm so fucking scared, baby. What if something wrong happened? What if--"
"Don't say that. It'll be all right, you'll see. It'll be all right, everything will be fi--"
The door opened, and the two men turned around, eyes ablaze.
"Mr Sanders?"
"Stokes-Sanders. I'm...I'm...Mr Stokes-Sanders. And this is my husband, Nick Stokes-Sanders."
The doctor smiled and looked at them kindly. "Misters Stokes-Sanders, then. Well--"
"How are they? Are they okay? Were there any complications? What's going on? Why aren't you tell--"
"Greg, baby, you you need to slow down. Let the doctor tell us what he was going to say, okay? It'll be all right, shh," came the soft interruption from his partner.
"Misters Stokes-Sanders, I assure you, there's nothing to worry about. Ms Cartwright is doing well, as is the baby. Your baby."
Greg felt all the tension he's been harbouring lift from his shoulders. He sagged into the waiting arms of his husband, and breathed.
The doctor grinned. "I believe, sirs, that congratulations are in order?"