Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!
It was getting out of hand. He'd thought he had it under control; thought he'd doused the flame, put it on the back burner, and learned to live with it. But suddenly, after so many years of lying dormant, here it was again, flaring to life with a brilliance he hadn't known his own emotions were capable of. He had no idea what made it suddenly such a big issue again, but it was. And he found it profoundly unsettling.
The very first moment Greg had met Nick, he'd known he could never forget those eyes, that voice, that face. Nick had been annoyed and, if truth were told, a little bit rude. But he was also the most beautiful thing Greg had ever seen in his whole life. Nick's voice, when he first heard it, had washed over him like a river had broken a damn, it was an indescribable rush. His eyes were so dark and deep Greg had found it hard to find words to respond. Then he was gone, leaving Greg shaken to his very roots.
And shaken he had remained for nine years. But after the first two years of watching and wondering, he'd finally been forced to admit that he and Nick would never happen, so he'd had a long, long talk with himself. All of his lust and all of his feelings were gathered in to a very tight iron box in his mind; the box had been closed and locked, and Greg had thrown away the key. After that he'd done pretty well.
The trouble was, some devious bastard had come along and unlocked it when he wasn't paying attention. Suddenly, every time he saw the tall Texan his heart sped up to a dangerous rate. Out on scenes he found his palms sweaty and his head spun constantly. When ever Nick spoke to him his voice would leave a roaring in Greg's ears for hours after. Casual touches set fire to his skin, and fueled his unwelcome fantasies when he was alone in a dark apartment. Fantasies that he hated himself for having yet couldn't resist. There was no denying himself anymore. His crush had grown to epic proportions that he could no longer set aside and wait out, but Greg refused to call it love. Love was two sided. What this was, he had no idea, but it was not love. It helped to tell himself that.
Yet no matter what he told himself, no matter how many conversations he had with his mirror or with his mother on the phone, it wouldn't go away. So many years he had spent training himself not to stare or wish or wonder, and they were quickly all flying out the window. This wasn't good. This was actually very, very bad. And the worst part was that there was no one here to tell. Calling his mother could only help so much, since it was very long distance and he only called her once a month. He needed an outlet for this frustration, and he needed it now.
Ah, right on time, here comes Nick. He flounced along the corridor as if he weren't drop dead gorgeous and men and women alike didn't drool when he passed. If he didn't already adore the man, Greg could learn to hate him. He offered everyone brilliant smiles and Greg shivered when their eyes connected. Those eyes. They caught at him in a way he didn't fully understand. He wasn't about to ask just out of professional curiosity though.
Grissom handed out assignments and Warrick asked if everyone was still coming over to his place that Friday. Greg added his nod only because to say no now would raise questions. Saying that he didn't want to go because he was insanely attracted to Nick might raise a few eyebrows, since he was supposed to be a huge womanizer. He wasn't supposed to be gay.
If only any of them knew. Greg protected his reputation like a mother might protect a new child. He depicted himself as the one to come to about anything sexual, the expert, the guy with all the kinks. He was a ladies man who had a different girlfriend every week and did every one of them in a different position. People saw him as the guy who would flirt with everything that moved, and a guy who was willing to try anything new or dirty. The truth could give them a heart attack. Greg was a virgin. He'd never been with a woman because they'd never interested him, and he'd never actually had sex with a man. Sex without love, as Grissom once said, only makes you sad. Greg didn't love any of his previous partners. Sure he'd been touched, and he'd done his fair share of touching. But sex? Never had it. Wouldn't that make for interesting party conversation?
Greg suddenly jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up to find that Nick had been trying to get his attention. His shoulder shrank back from the contact, and he shimmied sideways to get away. Nick didn't comment, but only mentioned that he was working with Greg on a body dump near the desert, and they had to go now. Greg nodded and leapt out of his seat, hurrying to put a safe distance between them. The farther he was from Nick, the easier it became to breathe. And then they were trapped in a car together.
The drive to the scene was silent, and Greg was fighting himself the whole time. His lungs refused to breathe, his heart refused to slow down, and his vision quickly became blurry from lack of oxygen. As the car was pulling to a stop he involuntarily let out a weird noise that must have sounded somewhere between strangulation and jubilation. Nick gave him a funny look and reached out to his shoulder as he fumbled for the door latch.
"You ok man?" he asked. Greg's eyes did a wild rolling back motion as he finally grabbed on to the handle and all but threw himself out of the car, calling "I'm fine" over his shoulder. He didn't stop to check if Nick bought it. He just hurried over to where three cops were standing over a naked woman lying face down in the sand. Relief flooded through him as he took in a deep gulp of air, free to stay a safe distance from his crush. He bent to the body and wielded his camera like an expert. CSI level 2 here he came.
"What do you got Super Dave?" he murmured as he aimed the camera at a sticky black substance on the vic's shoulder. Dave, the coroner from the lab where Greg had spent many years, smiled at the nickname he'd somehow picked up. Come to think of it, Greg really wasn't sure why everyone called him Super Dave, but he wasn't about to question it. Dave was as entitled to his nickname as Greg was to his false reputation.
"She's been dead for about two days, and where ever she died was someplace cool. She's well preserved, so she's only been dumped recently." Dave moved away from the body, and Greg moved in to his spot with a swab, taking a sample of the black stuff he'd spotted. Hopefully trace could tell him what it was, because he had absolutely no idea. It didn't smell familiar. Something that did smell familiar was suddenly hovering over his shoulder and Greg twitched a little.
"What you got there Greggo?" Nick's voice almost sent a warm spasm to his groin, but he swallowed that feeling and bolted to the side, shaking an evidence bag out of the breast pocket of his Kevlar vest. He shrugged wordlessly, knowing Nick would see because he could feel those dark eyes on him. He was so caught up in being watched he tripped and fell head over heels in to the dust. Nick and Dave chuckled and he sighed, sending up a cloud of dirt with his breath. When he lifted his head he stopped moving.
"Ni- err, Dave, want to hand me a large evidence bag? We're going to want to take this with us," he called out. When the coroner handed him a plastic bag he picked up the knife he'd literally stumbled upon and shoved it inside. Clumsy? Yes. Lucky? Also yes. With a smirk he picked up his dropped camera and went to scope out the rest of the area. Maybe he'd fall on top of something else. A half hour later he'd found nothing else and the body was released to be taken to autopsy. He stalled as long as he could but inevitably was forced back in to the car with Nick so they could return to the lab. They were almost there when Nick took one hand off the wheel to rub at his stomach.
"Do you feel like stopping somewhere to grab our dinner break?" he asked. Greg closed his eyes and wondered why the universe hated him.
"Not hungry." He mumbled. Nick gave him an incredulous look and he sighed. "Look I got a fresh sub in my locker you can have. Can we just get back to the lab?" He avoided that dark gaze and slumped deeper in to his seat. Nick didn't say a thing, just kept driving, which Greg was grateful for. Every passing second was torture, and played havoc with his airways. By the time he was free again his overly sensitive nose had had more than its fill of Nick's cologne. He practically ran in to the building, carrying the evidence they had managed to procure. Warrick glanced up when he dumped it all off in the evidence room.
"Hey G, you drinking this weekend?" he asked. Greg stopped moving and considered that. Well, if he didn't drink he would be forced to sit and soberly watch an inebriated Nick flirt with Sara or Catherine or who ever else happened to be there. If he did drink he might go blathering his secrets everywhere. If he didn't he'd have to sit for that many more hours feeling the way he did and knowing there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Drinking it was!
"Definitely," he replied finally. "No worries, I'll bring my own and I'll catch a cab home." Warrick chuckled and Greg knew he'd answered the other unasked questions the taller man had been about to voice. As Greg went to walk out his nose twitched and he turned back to stare around the room. Warrick looked at him curiously, until Greg narrowed his eyes and his face took on a suspicious cast. That scent was unmistakable, but it was slightly out of place. Then it came to him with a flash and he smirked.
"Cath was in here before me, wasn't she?" he asked. Warrick nodded, mystified, but Greg didn't explain himself. He just walked away from the scent of arousal as quickly as possible, fighting back laughter. His nose was something of a wonder. He was like Grissom with a different sensory power. Where the boss man could read lips, Greg could read scents. He could tell you to a degree of certainty the last thing someone ate, whom they had last touched, and many other things, including when they were turned on. It was useful, to say the least, although sometimes rather inconvenient.
Greg's smile faded when he stepped in to the break room and almost ran right in to Nick. The Texan steadied the two coffees he had in his hands and held one out for Greg, who stared at it dumbly. When Nick wiggled it he snapped out of his trance and tore it from the tanned hand. He mumbled a vague thanks and they traveled together to the evidence Greg had just put down, the younger man walking a good four feet away from his crush. Accidental touchings were not allowed, and to be avoided at all costs. The next few hours were going to be very painful, and very breathless.
The beginning of the week was ok by Greg's standards. Grissom had thoughtfully paired him with anyone but Nick on every case, giving him a much needed break from that spicy cologne. But Greg couldn't avoid him all together. He still ran in to him in the break room, in the hallways, between labs. He made a valiant effort. Whenever he saw Nick coming he would do his best to appear deep in conversation or look as if he were concentrating so hard he was oblivious to everything else.
Unfortunately this only worked until late Wednesday. Then Nick sought him out. Subtly of course, only in the way one would seek out a friend who was obviously avoiding you. But he surprised Greg in such a manner it almost gave him a heart attack. The blonde had been pouring over photographs of a triple homicide when, after a split second warning from his nose, a warm bare arm had been thrown across his shoulders and he was pulled in tight to a very solid side of a body. Nick grinned sideways at him and looked down at the floater pictures.
"Hey man, haven't even seen you for a couple days," he commented. "Something going on?" He turned the grin back to Greg, who's vision tunneled until all he could see were those lips, tucked up at the corners, slightly pink in color, and soft looking. They moved as Nick tried to talk to him again but he was too mesmerized by the way they changed shape to hear the words they produced. Then they hung open while Nick stared at him in confusion. His brain tried to tell him to say something, anything, or to move, but his body refused to respond. He was frozen until Sara's voice came out of nowhere, scaring them both.
"Greg, you find anything while I was gone?" she asked. She stopped when she saw the expressions on both of them and asked what was wrong.
"I think he needs a break or something," he could hear Nick tell her. "I'm gunna ask Grissom to have a look at him." He looked up at Sara, trying to tell her with his eyes that he was fine. He tried to tell her it was all Nick's fault, but she nodded along and assumed a worried face. Nick didn't release his hold, and Greg held his breath all the way to Grissom's office. He was almost to the point of turning color when they arrived and he was forcefully put in the extra chair in front of the desk.
"Gris, can you have a look at him? I don't think he's ok." Nick's voice sounded worried, and Greg's eyes were wildly dancing around for an escape route. He locked on to his boss' face and tried the pleading thing with him. It worked better than with Sara, apparently, because Grissom told Nick he'd handle it and sent the Texan off to work his case. He seemed reluctant to go, but eventually he slipped away.
When it was just he and his mentor, Greg took in air unsteadily and slumped in his seat, dropping his head on to the desktop hard. The pain that shot up through his cranium was welcomed and he considered doing it a second time. What was wrong with him? It was as if suddenly he were sixteen years old again with his first crush on a sunny surfer boy from a California high school. All the symptoms were there, no matter how hard he tried to deny them. After a long time he realized that Grissom hadn't said anything, and he could smell the confusion come off the boss in waves. See what I mean by oversensitive nose?
"I thought I had this Gris. It was all so good until…I don't even know." He didn't lift his head when he spoke, but muttered in to the desk, his voice muffled by thick wood. He heard the chair across from him squeak as human weight settled slowly in to it.
"What's going on Greg?" Gil asked, eliciting a long-suffering sigh. The level one considered letting it all out. After all, he had been complaining about not having a confidant. Maybe this was what he needed. But a split second later he realized that he couldn't do it. It was too humiliating. And not only that, Gil might deem him a danger to his work and suspend him or put him on day shift or something. How horrible. On an edge decision, he went with the lie.
"Been feeling nauseous all day. Tried to keep it under control but I'm feeling worse." The words sounded hallow and weak in his own ears, and he wondered if Grissom would see through him. He also wondered if he would mind being seen through. The weight on his chest was settling heavier and heavier, and he wasn't sure how to lift it this time. Last time it had taken a few pep talks and a bit of resolve. This time was harder somehow. He distantly heard his supervisor sending him home for the rest of the night and giving him the next night off. Never in his life did he think he would have the urge to kiss Gil Grissom.
Nick wasn't in the room when he went to tell Sara that he was leaving, a fact that he was undeniably thankful for. He managed to make it out of the building and in to his car without being seen, and Greg felt his lungs filling with beautiful air as he pulled out in to traffic. Every stoplight that he hit he resisted cursing. His couch was calling in a luring sort of way and he just wanted to go home and collapse on it. He just wanted to forget about Nick Stokes for at least a little while.
His plan, however, was not to be. He was only home a little while when there was a knock on his door. Reluctant to move, Greg just yelled at the door and told who ever it was that it was open. He returned his disinterested gaze back to the television; only half watching the woman on the screen continue her documentary on some sort of bird. It hadn't escaped him how ironic it was that he was trying to escape thoughts of a bird watcher by watching birds. Sometimes he hated himself. Then he hated the world as a familiar scent reached him.
"You know it's really unsafe to just let me in without checking who it is," Nick's voice told him from the other side of the room. The tone was meant to be stern and scolding, but the underlying warmth was hard to hide. He wasn't upset. Greg turned to look at him and asked what he was doing here. "Grissom said you went home sick. I thought I'd come see if I could make you feel better." He smiled and held up a thick metal thermos. "I brought soup." Greg smiled nervously and got up to get a bowl.
Apparently, though, being sick also made you an invalid. Nick made him sit back down and went to get the bowl himself. He also asked if Greg was cold, if he was too hot, if his stomach could handle the soup, and if there was anything else Nick could get for him. When all that was settled, he teased Greg about his choice of television program. Greg changed the channel. He sat as far away from Nick as he could, pushing himself deep in to the corner of the couch and pulling the blanket Nick had thrown at him tightly around his shoulders. It was too hot, but it was another barrier between them and it made him feel a bit safer. The Texan tried to strike up conversation, but Greg had a lump in his throat that refused to be spoken around.
Nick seemed to think it was because he had a sore throat and gave him a sympathetic smile. Then he proceeded to just fill up the silence by chatting away to himself, seemingly not bothered that Greg couldn't – or wouldn't – respond. Just continued regaling him with stories of previous cases or something funny he'd seen, or something amazing his dog had done. He confessed that if Greg let him he might talk for hours on end about his dog. He actually did go on for another half hour about Maverick before he announced that maybe Greg should be getting some sleep. Greg tried to say he was fine but Nick overrode him, declaring that he would feel much better after some rest.
"I'll stick around in case you need something," he stated with a warm smile that made Greg shudder. He stammered the whole time Nick shoved him down the hallway, blushing a bright red when Nick stood at the end of his bed with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. "Go to bed, G," he commanded. The only thing Greg could do was obediently sit down, avoiding Nick's eyes. He expected the older man to go away once he saw his orders being followed, but he just kept standing there, seeing it all the way through. Usually this was something Greg admired, but right then it was terribly inconvenient. The blonde sighed and threw the covers back, slipping under and turning his back to his friend. As soon as his head lay down on the soft pillow, he was overwhelmed with an exhaustion he hadn't known he'd felt. Sleep claimed him all but instantly.
When he woke again, the first thing he did was crack an eyelid towards the doorway. It was empty, and he let loose a, irrational sigh of relief that Nick wasn't there. He lay still for a few more moments before getting up to relieve his bladder, then he went in search of something caffeinated. His precious coffee was percolating in minutes and as he turned away from the machine to whip up some breakfast while he waited he caught sight of a blinking light. His answering machine was trying very hard to tell him that someone had left him a message or two. He smiled and absently hit the button, turning away again to rummage through his fridge.
Grissom's voice filled the air, just calling to ask how he was feeling and asking whether or not he would be able to make it in to work tonight. Greg snorted. He would be perfectly fine if Nick would keep a good ten-foot distance at all times. The message ended, and he almost hit his head on the inside of his refrigerator when a new one started up playing Nick's voice. He extracted himself from the apparently dangerous appliance and stared at his machine while Nick apologized for leaving without saying goodbye, giving an excuse about his dog or something like that. Probably left to go see a girlfriend, Greg thought to himself. The message paused and he thought it was over until the voice picked up again with the most random statement ever.
I never expected you to be so still when you slept.
Greg stared at the answering machine for a good ten minutes after that, not having heard the click to say it was all out of messages. He tried from a hundred different angles, but found that he could make absolutely no sense out of that last sentence. There was really no point to it, it wasn't a question, and he had no idea why Nick would even say something like that. Greg's brain caught up to him after a while and he halted just as he moved to grab a cup of coffee. Had Nick actually been standing there watching him sleep? That was…creepy and yet very welcome and yet not welcome at all. Greg pinched the bridge of his nose and moved to grab his coffee. When his mug was full he rang in to the lab and left a message there for Grissom, apologizing for the day before and saying that yes he would be able to make it in tonight. He gave some sort of flustered sounding excuse saying he didn't know what came over him yesterday, and then hung up.
After a shower he felt much better, but he took a bit too long and only had time to don clean clothes and whip his hair in to a semblance of randomness before he had to shoot out the door. On the drive to work he worked with his still drying hair a bit more in his rearview mirror. It ended up in a faux-hawk, which was fine with him. It was unexpected at least, and that was the angle he generally tried for. The hallways of the lab were almost empty for once as he strode through them and plopped himself in a chair in Hodges' lab. The trace rat gave him the same withering glare he greeted everyone in the world with, and it made him smile.
"Please tell me you've identified that green powder I brought you yesterday?" he knew his voice had a wheedling tone to it, but he couldn't have cared less. Hodges sighed and began rooting through the stack of folders piled on the corner of his workstation.
"Yes I did, which you would know if you had bothered to stay your entire shift yesterday," Hodges replied, his tone snarky. Greg smiled again and didn't bother to make his excuses. The two of them bantered for a bit until Greg managed to annoy the other man enough to hand over the results. He smirked triumphantly, but remembered his manners and managed to say thank you as he was leaving, his next stop the DNA lab. There was some new tech in there that he had never bothered to learn the name of. He had never liked her, but he'd never told anyone it was because as soon as he walked anywhere within five feet of her he was always overwhelmed by the scent of her body odor. She showered just often enough not to stink to anyone but him. To him, she reeked.
He extracted a bloody knotted rope and results of whose blood it was as quick as possible, and then hightailed it out of the lab, making sure to shut the door behind him. A few deep breathes of cleaner air and he was ready to step out and head down to the morgue to see what Doc Robbins had found on the body.
"Greg!"
"BAH!"
The folders he was holding flew out of his hands, and it was only by some miraculous momentary gymnastic ability that he managed to keep them from hitting the ground and flying open everywhere. For a few seconds he remained in the crouched position he had ended up in, Nick hovering over his shoulder from where he had come out of nowhere. Then Nick sniggered.
"Smooth moves," he commented. "What you got on those results?" Greg stammered, his heart already speeding up. He swallowed past the lump in his throat that hadn't been there a moment ago. No words formed on his tongue so he just straightened and shoved the folders at the older man. He murmured something under his breath that sounded very close to 'morgue' and there was something in there that might have been 'Robbins', then he took off down the hall. Nick's voice chased after him but he only urged his feet faster and prayed the Texan would leave him alone. No such luck. This guy was like a…a…a sticky substance! Greg mentally slapped his own forehead and stopped when Nick's footsteps caught up with him again.
"Greg are you sure you're feeling ok?" he asked. "I'm sure Gris wouldn't mind you staying home an extra day if you're not over, err, whatever it is you had yesterday." Greg sighed and mumbled that he was fine. Nick put a hand on his shoulder and he immediately tensed, squirming sideways and shimmying out from under the much-too-warm appendage. His eyes being locked on to his shoes he didn't see the half hurt expression he was receiving. He also didn't catch the confusion when he mumbled and took off again. As soon as he was around the corner and out of Nick's sight he slumped against the wall and caught his breath. This was getting ridiculous! It took a few minutes until he felt fine again, or as fine as he could be these days, and when he could walk he went looking for the dead body he was working with yesterday.
The rest of the night was like that. Being on the same case he was forced to interact with the older man frequently all throughout the shift. At one point he became so desperate to get away he made up some cock and bull story about checking something in DNA and spent a good fifteen minutes locked in that room, choking on the stench of his replacement. He could smell the confusion coming off of Nick after a while, and by dawn his head was wound so tight he was giving himself a huge migraine. Thankfully though, they solved the case, so he hopefully would be partnered with someone else the next day. Hopefully. Grissom was a man full of surprises and not all of them were pleasant.
The next day was Thursday, and Greg found himself working with Sara. It was such a relief that he was extra bouncy the whole time, even making her laugh every once in a while. That only made him grin bigger and try harder. But even though their case was open and shut in one night he was wary of going to sleep that night. Going to sleep meant he would have to wake up. And waking up would mean it would be Friday. And Friday meant Warrick's party. Greg stayed up as late as he could, his brain concocting some twisted logic that if he didn't go to sleep then he wouldn't wake up and it wouldn't be Friday. Eventually though, he dropped off in front of the TV. He woke too late for a shower, and when he got to the lab he was still grumbling about his own brain being a traitor.
When shift ended that night, Warrick reminded them all to meet up at his apartment in a couple hours and offered to refresh people's mind for directions. Greg didn't need a refresher course, so he headed straight home, with only one side trip to the booze store. Normally Greg was a beer kind of guy, simple yet effective. Tonight, though, he needed something harder. He picked himself up a couple bottles of whiskey and as an after thought also bought a bag of ice, just in case Warrick ran out during the night. The ice he stuck in his own freezer until it was time to go, then he transported it in the cooler he used for camping.
There were already a good few people at the party, and the two overwhelming scents that met Greg's nose when the door opened was booze and sweat. He smiled; usually this was what he smelled in a bar. A look around told him Nick wasn't here yet, so Greg poured himself a whiskey on the rocks, drained it all in one go, and hit the dance crowd. One of the girls from days seemed keen on dancing with him and he happily obliged her. It helped keep up his image after all. Three more quick glasses of whiskey and he found himself gyrating next to a different girl from days. The tension of the past long while eased out of his shoulders a bit, and he even found it in himself to smile for the girl. She half-swooned and seemed to take this as flirtation. Maybe it was because the alcohol was shifting his bodily control out of his own hands, but every once in a while he randomly winked one eye rather than blinking normally. She seemed to think he was winking at her, rather than losing feeling all over.
After a while Greg stumbled off of the dance floor to seek his bottle of whiskey again. His fifth glass was drained just as fast as the others, but the sixth he carried with him as he went in search of someone interesting to talk to. He found Warrick himself hanging out by the back door of the house he normally shared with an old college buddy. The roommate was off at a conference somewhere apparently. Warrick looked up as Greg wound his way closer through the crowd and smiled, waving him over. They smiled and shared a high five when finally they were standing next to each other. Greg tried to tell him it was a great party, but before he could even get the words out his nose picked up something both familiar and unwelcome. Nick was nearby. Distracted, Greg turned his head, unaware that his slightly drunk eyes had gone a little wild.
Nick was seated not five feet away, two generously chested women fighting over who would get to sit in his lap. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, throwing in comments every once in a while. He probably wanted to start a catfight. Greg heard all the time that straight men got off on that for some reason. When the Texan happened to look his way he caught sight of the younger man and gave him a friendly smile and wave. Greg turned away and drained his glass of whiskey, walking away briskly without ever having said a word to the host of the party.
Five minutes later he had polished of the rest of his first bottle and was seated alone on the back porch, accompanied only by the second bottle. He wasn't even bothering with ice cubes or a cup now, opting instead for simply wrapping his lips around the glass neck and drinking straight from the bottle. The backyard was quite small, but the stars above were especially brilliant that night and that's what Greg tried to focus on. They were swimming in front of his unsteady eyes and he briefly wondered if the world was suddenly spinning faster on its axis, because suddenly everything around him was blurry. The grass he found himself standing on – with no memory of having gotten up off the steps – was a solid wall of green to him. Unperturbed, Greg sighed and took another swig.
"What's gotten in to you?" a voice asked from behind him. Greg turned, wincing when he caught sight of Nick standing on the porch. Behind the Texan, sounds of the party were drifting out, no one having paid much attention to either of their absences. Greg turned away, hoping somewhere in his hazy mind that if he ignored the older man he would go away. Apparently luck was still avoiding him, because he could hear Nick step off the porch and approach him. A hand reached out to his shoulder, but he instinctively shrank away, his throat already contracting at their close proximity. The hand dropped away and he could hear Nick give off an exasperated sigh. "What has gotten in to you?" he repeated himself. Greg shuddered and looked anywhere but the Texan.
"You," he murmured half-heartedly, busy checking to see if there was anywhere in the small yard that he could hide in and never come out of. Unfortunately, there was nothing, and when he turned his head to check the other side he found his mouth rambling forward without any cue from his brain. "You're what's gotten in to me you idiot, how blind are you?" Well how about that. Apparently his mouth hated him, because certainly his brain had not told his mouth to say that. Or he hoped not; it wasn't very nice to think that his own mind would betray him like that. "I can't even breathe when you're around." Well now! If he could just stop talking, he might get to live and Nick wouldn't have to beat him to a pulp. But no, his lips kept flapping and the truth just kept coming. He must have done something really bad in a past life. "You're too pretty for your own good, did you know that? Too perfect, Nick. No one's supposed to be perfect, but you are. Ass. Always want to kiss you or something."
Greg suddenly found the bottle of whiskey pausing the flow of words coming from his traitorous mouth, but he didn't complain. His arm, he decided, knew better than his mouth. He downed a few large gulps of alcohol and gave his mouth a mental berating for what it had done to him. His sentences were deteriorating in to almost gibberish, but apparently he still had a few more points left to share that he couldn't stop from spouting out of his mouth like some kind of truth fountain, staring down in to the bottle while he spoke.
"Maybe throw you up against the wall. Or somefin. Lick you. Can't think with you there. Too pretty. Too nice. Wasn't sick you know, on Wednesday. Was just too close to you. Love being close to you. Hate it too." Inside of his head he sighed very loudly, and he felt his eyes close as he gave up trying to stop his lips from rambling on his about his secrets. "Always wondered if you'd taste good. How you'd feel. 'Gainst me. Wanted you to be the one to take my…" Greg suddenly stopped talking and his eyes popped wide open as he looked over at the shell-shocked expression on Nick's face. "Are there women out here?" he asked seemingly out of nowhere. Nick blinked, thrown even farther off than he already was.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, thoroughly confused and glad that he hadn't had more than one beer. Greg frowned at him deeply and his face was highly indignant.
"You're horny! I can smell it!" his accusatory statement caused Nick's jaw to drop open. Greg glared, stepping closer in a haze of drink, barely registering the constriction of his lungs as he poked a mean finger in to the middle of Nick's chest. "You know I really don't feel like standing here while some girl turns you on." With that he turned around and started to walk away as steadily as he could manage. His nose was filled with the scent of arousal and it was driving him up the wall, closing off his lungs and setting his heart to race at speeds he had never experienced.
Unfortunately – or so he thought – he only made it about six or seven steps away. It was then that Nick caught up to him and grabbed his arm to stop his hasty retreat. Greg fought the grip, desperate to get away and get some air that he would be able to breathe without wanting to faint. But Nick was stronger at the best of times, not to mention sober, so his grip stayed true. He pulled Greg until the drunken blonde stumbled back in to the older man's chest. Before he had a chance to escape Nick lowered his face until his lips were right next to Greg's ear.
"You turn me on," he murmured hotly. Greg froze all movements, including breathing, heartbeat, and blinking. Not such a great combination considering the levels of alcohol currently flowing through his blood stream. After a moment or so of stunned silence, he sagged a little bit in to Nick's solid frame.
"I can't breathe Nicky," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He managed to recognize the feeling of arms tightening around him to support his sudden dead weight, then the buzzing in his ears grew to epic heights and a white light exploded behind his eyelids. Nick's voice in his ear sounded a million miles away as reality faded and he felt his breath leave him in a long weak sigh.
The next sensation that registered in Greg was the tight knot of pain in his forehead as reality skimmed it's way back in to his consciousness. With a groan he raised a hand and tried to massage the pain away, at the same time knowing it was a futile effort. The second sensation that caught up with his groggy foggy mind was a familiar scent that gripped his heart with fear and made his eyes fly wide open. What he first saw when his sight cleared was nothing but an ocean of black and for a moment he irrationally thought he had gone blind. After a moment, though, he realized it was because he was face down in some sort of material. Probably a bedspread or a couch blanket. With a second drawn out moan of pain he planted his hands and forced the muscles in his shaking arms to lift his face out of what he discovered to actually be a shirt-covered chest.
A little more than a little afraid, Greg slowly dragged his eyes upwards. That smell was all over the shirt, which was wrinkled from him burrowing his face in it. His eyes followed the chest up to where it met with a neck and familiar strong shoulders. Praying to god for mercy, he continued to look up. Nick appeared to be just as awake as he was, as he was staring back at Greg with an amused smile on his face. The blonde let out a strangled grunt and immediately made to pull away, hoping to perhaps to run away and never have to face the older man again outside a work environment. His plan would have been great but strong hands wrapped themselves around his biceps and held him in place before he could get very far.
"Oh dear god I'm going to die…" he could hear the edge of panic in his voice, and was surprised when Nick let out a laugh. The sound reverberated inside his skull and caused a huge wave of pain to come crashing down against the backs of his eyes. This time he didn't so much groan as he did cry out as he shut his eyes and wished he could just die. From the pain or the embarrassment, either one would work just as well at the moment. Mercifully, the laughter quieted as quickly as it had started and he felt a hand gently caressing one of his temples.
"Sorry," Nick apologized in a low voice that surprisingly didn't cause more flashes of pain. Greg cursed god for creating headaches and hangovers, then he slowly opened his eyes and cursed himself for somehow getting in to this situation. He seemed to have by some probably weird and unpredictable means landed himself in a bed (who's, he didn't know) snuggled in to Nick's chest. And the older man seemed only to think it was funny. Greg didn't really think so, but he was thankful they both had clothes on or he might have already had an aneurysm and suffocated on the spot. He gave another try at getting away from the possible mountain of questions about to descend upon him, but he was held firmly in place for some reason. He tried to take a deep breath, only to discover his lungs were getting tight at the proximity.
"Look," he managed to squeeze out in a strangled voice, "you can hit me later, yeah? I just…can I go now?" This time Nick managed to keep his merriment contained to a low chuckle that didn't aggravate Greg's massive headache, although it played heck with his confusion.
"You really don't remember much of last night, do you?" Nick asked, the laughter in his voice threatening to spill out again. Greg shook his head slowly, horror creeping in to his face as he contemplated a million different scenarios of what he might have done, each more horrible and embarrassing than the last. Nick's smile grew warm all of a sudden and, if Greg had had any breath left, it would have been stolen away.
"Let me refresh your memory then," Nick offered. Before Greg had any time at all to think about that he found himself on the receiving end of a toe-curling, hair-raising, blood-boiling, thought-erasing kiss. Not to mention that it was amazing. His eyes instinctively closed as he floated in a haze, caught somewhere between sinful pleasure and a sinner's pain. However much pain he was in though, he was willing to push through it just for a few more seconds of this absolutely perfect sensation. It wasn't until Nick actually pulled away again that Greg's brain caught up to him and told him what he had just been doing. As well as who he had just been doing it with.
For a long moment of sluggish incomprehension, Greg stared down at the man below him with wide eyes and a gaping jaw. Nick just lay back and smiled up at him contentedly, willing to wait for his thought process to catch up with him. Finally Greg's hands contracted in to fists and he took in a breath with some difficulty.
"You kissed me…" he whispered in awe, almost unable to believe it. "That's quite the step up from a punch in the teeth," he added in a mutter, seemingly to himself. Nick's smile grew and he pulled him down for a second searing kiss. It lasted a lot longer than the first, now that the blonde was actively participating. The heat was rising between them when the pain flooded back with a vengeance and Greg suddenly broke away to grasp at his forehead and gasp miserably.
"I almost forgot," Nick admitted. Then he pecked Greg on the temple and assured him that he would be right back as he squirmed out and away. Greg flopped over on his back gently and used both his hands to massage his head, now that they were free. It only took a couple of minutes for Nick to return with his hands full of hangover paraphernalia. He handed the younger man a glass of water and some Advil and watched while they were both downed quickly. Then Nick made him lie down and spread a warm cloth over his forehead. Greg looked up at him with an indulgent smile and couldn't help himself from commenting.
"Thanks mom," he whispered teasingly, finding that the lower he spoke the less it hurt. Nick cocked an eyebrow before leaning down and giving him a small kiss on the lips. Greg blushed, as incredulous at the third as he'd been at the first. He watched as his long time crush lowered himself back down on the bed, keeping himself propped up on one elbow so he could look down at Greg with that smile still in place.
"We can talk about the how's and the when's after you're feeling better, ok?" the Texan eventually offered. "I think maybe you should just go back to sleep for now." Greg was quiet as he contemplated that, weighing the pounding in his head against the curiosity raging through his thoughts. At long last he decided that his curiosity had time to wait until the pain was dulled enough to be ignored.
"Will you stay with me?" he asked as his eyes started to slip closed. He'd never realized before how comforting the sound of Nick's breathing could be, and he found that it was already starting to lull him easily back in to slumber. The bed beside him shifted and suddenly that breathing was closer to his ear, lips barely brushing against his skin.
"Always," was the answer he heard, then he smiled and gratefully welcomed the encroaching darkness, this time knowing what to expect when he would wake. It might take some getting used to, being this close to Nick all the time. It might get a little hard on his heart to go this fast all the time, and it might wreak havoc on his airways to have his breath stolen away so often, but Greg decided that Nick was so worth it. He always had been. And he always would be.
So I got all the way to end of the story before I realized I forgot to resolve Greg little virginity problem...so I wrote a short little sequel just for those who are interested. :)