I own nothing but the plot!
The break room was silent for once. The night shift had not yet started, yet most of the CSIs working it were already here, quietly sipping coffee and reading different sections of the paper. Grissom was doing this week's crossword puzzle. It felt really nice to simply sit in each others' company without having to say anything, just be with each other. The peace, however, was soon to be broken when Grissom stood up to get more coffee and happened to look out the doorway. His coffee cup dropped in to the sink, bouncing about loudly but mercifully staying in one piece. The others looked up, startled by the noise, and asked what was wrong when they saw his face.
"Greg!" Grissom ignored them and called out to whom he had spotted walking by.
"Shit damn and fuck…" came a resigned voice. The boss quickly went out in the hall and the rest, still curious to know what had shocked him so, followed him out. Then they stopped too, startled in to silence for a few tight seconds before most of them started to snigger. A few eyebrows were raised and when Wendy came walking by she stopped and couldn't resist a catcall.
"I was kind of hoping I could make it to my locker before anyone saw me," Greg complained plaintively under all their amused gazes, causing the sniggers to turn in to laughter. He stood before them in black leather pants with tiny little silver studs on the side seam. He wore a plain – and very tight – white t-shirt underneath a fitted black leather jacket. Around his head he had wrapped an orange bandanna, and beneath that, his hair was messed around. He looked quite embarrassed to be caught in this attire.
"Then why did you come here wearing that?" Warrick managed to ask in a steady voice. His face refused to stay straight though, and it was very obvious that he found this new style very funny. Greg sighed and looked at them like he was going to hurt them all.
"I overslept, didn't have time to change," he explained, shifting a little as if he wanted to escape. In fact, he actually tried. He turned and headed for the locker rooms, giving them all an excellent view of just how nicely the leather hugged his tight little tushie. It didn't turn out quite like he wanted, since everyone just followed him and piled in to the room around him. The three girls sat on the bench behind him and leaned it to inspect the pants. He cried out and tried ineffectually to bat them away.
Then, without a hint of self-consciousness, he stripped. It resembled something more along the lines of a strip tease, and even all the men felt their faces heat up a little as Greg pulled his shirt off and slowly pushed his pants down off his hips. He stood there in just white boxers and rummaged through his things for extra clothing, coming out with a pair of cargoes and a black hoodie. Before he could put them on he turned and exasperatedly shooed the girls away again, they having bent in to inspect…something other than his clothing.
"Yes, yes, I have one of those. I've been telling you about it from day one. Now shoo." He glared a little and stepped away from them. This, unfortunately, brought him closer to a secretly bi-curious Nick, who swallowed pretty hard. He stared at the expanse of skin exposed to him as Greg faced away and narrowed his eyes at the scars. They didn't lace the tech's back as they all would have thought. Instead, most had faded, and he was left with only two very large white ones just under his shoulder blades, almost like he'd had wings cut off.
Greg was oblivious to Nick scrutiny since he was concentrating on pulling his pants on as fast as he could and avoiding the hungry gaze of his female coworkers. He quickly did up his button and fly and realized he didn't have a tee to wear under the hoodie. Since he didn't want to risk stepping back towards the girls and their reaching hands he sighed and slipped bare-chested in to his sweater. Behind him, Nick had to bite down hard on his tongue in order to not protest the covering of skin. When he tasted his own blood he knew he would regret it later, but only clenched his jaw harder. When Greg was all done and sat down to pull on old sneakers, Warrick cleared his throat.
"So…any particular reason for those clothes?" the tall man asked. "Or were you just…doing one of your weird kink things?" He couldn't resist imitating Nick's southern twang when he said 'things' so it turned in to a drawn out 'thangs', which for some reason made Greg shudder. No one commented on the shudder. They were more distracted by the blush that crept up the back of his neck and heated the tips of his ears as he kept his face turned away and stammered, trying to find a reasonable sounding explanation. After stumbling through a few nonsensical words he sighed and gave in.
"Thursday is bike and club night," Greg mumbled grudgingly. "Me and a couple of the boys from college take our old bikes for a spin, then we hit the clubs. I was so exhausted last night I fell asleep in my clothes and when I woke up I had fifteen minutes to get here. Not exactly time enough to shower and change." He stood up finally and, though his face was still tinged with red, he tried to look serious and put his hands on his hips. "Can we drop it now?" he pleaded. But they weren't done with him yet.
"Wait, bikes? As in motorcycles?" Catherine asked. Greg rolled his eyes at her.
"Nope, tricycles," he replied sarcastically, earning himself a whack on the arm. "Yes motorcycles. I wasn't the smartest kid ever." He shrugged and made another escape attempt. Yet again the whole group followed him out in to the hall. Wendy sidled up next to him and tried to run her hands over the shoulders his jacket had nicely outlined. His normal clothes were rather shapeless, so she'd never seen the definition of them before. Greg twisted his face and tried to swat her off of him.
The blonde had to roll his eyes as they all pursued him back to the break room, hounding him with millions of questions. He held his silence and let them babble on until he was holding his cup of coffee and seated at the table with them surrounding him. Then he still didn't really find the need to answer any of them. One person would ask a question and someone else would come up with a possible answer. Then a third person would jump in and dispute the probability of that answer and it would start an argument. Then a new question was asked and it would start all over again. Greg just smiled at them all.
Finally someone checked their watch and announced that their shift had started, so they should really be getting some work done. Greg's smile was extremely relieved, as he was working his case solo. He escaped down the hall to see if the trace he'd brought in the night before had been processed yet. However, it was just as fun to gossip about Greg when he wasn't there, so as the CSIs all split up to work their scenes, they continued to talk about their youngest member's newest revealed detail. At some point Catherine mentioned to Grissom that she had once dated a guy who drove a motorcycle around everywhere. Gil smiled to himself and muttered, "Who haven't you dated?" which earned him a smack.
There was, however, only so long they could last before each and every one of them got so involved in their cases that the hot topic of gossip faded in favor of talks about DNA and possible murder theories. By the time shift was over and Nick was walking towards his car to head home, he had all but forgotten about Greg's grand entrance earlier that night. And when he stopped in his tracks upon spotting that both his back tires were flat, the young blonde was the last thing on his mind. That is, until a hand landed on his shoulder and he looked over to see said young blonde standing there, orange bandanna dangling from the hand he'd used to tap Nick's shoulder.
"You need a ride?" he asked. Nick gave his best puppy dog eyes and nodded helplessly.
"I don't even have one spare tire in my trunk, let alone two," he said. "I used mine a few weeks back when my idiot next door neighbor dropped some nails outside my driveway." Greg nodded and looked around, almost like he was checking that nobody could see them.
"Well everyone else is gone home so I guess there's nothing for it, I'll have to give you a ride," he looked as if this bothered him and Nick instantly felt hurt wash through him. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening in surprise that the normally helpful Greg would be so ungracious. Obvious Greg caught the look because he smiled and hurried to explain himself.
"Oh I don't mind, really, you know I'd do pretty much anything for you," he said, making Nick flush, the hurt turning in to warmth. "It's just that I've only got one helmet, so we better not see any cops." He turned and started walking in to a different row and Nick raised an eyebrow.
"Helmet?" he asked, completely confused. And then it dawned on him and his eyes widened for a second time. "Did you drive your bike to work today?" he half-whispered, not sure why he said it so quietly. The back of Greg's neck flushed a little and Nick smiled that his friend was so embarrassed by this. Then they rounded a corner and there it was, sitting bright and shiny and taking up next to no space at all in its parking spot. Nick could not have told you what model it was, but it was orange and black, and it was a Harley Davidson.
While Greg tied his bandanna around his neck, bringing it up so it covered the lower half of his face, Nick almost laughed to see that the shade of the material perfectly matched the bike. Then Greg picked up the single black helmet hanging off his bike and turned to hold it out to Nick, who stared at it dumbly before giving Greg a questioning look.
"I thought you said you only had one?" he asked. Greg nodded.
"You'll wear it, of course. If I get us in to an accident I'd much prefer myself to get hurt than you," he explained. Before Nick could even recover from the shock of hearing Greg say that, he felt the safety device being lowered over his head and strapped on for him. Greg shrugged out of the leather jacket he'd put on to ride home in and made Nick put it on, zipping it up for him when he couldn't see around the helmet.
Then Greg turned and swung one leg over the bike, looking perfectly comfortable kicking up the stand and beckoning for Nick to climb on behind. The Texan edged closer, a little nervous about sitting so bodily close to his crush, but he didn't want Greg to think he was scared so he clumsily put one leg over the machine and settled in behind. He was shifting on the leather seat when suddenly it roared to life underneath him, making him jump. In an instant he could understand the thrill of motorcycles, without even having to drive anywhere. The feeling of raw power sitting just a hairsbreadth away was intoxicating – and sexy. Nick had been a car and truck man all his life but never before had he been turned on by a vehicle until now. He fought not to get physically excited as the motorcycle rumbled, and he almost missed Greg telling him to put his feet up.
At the first slight movement forward, Nick instinctively jerked his arms out to wrap around Greg's waist, seeking his stability and the feeling of safety. When he felt Greg lie a hand on his he realized how tight he was holding, and he loosened his grip. Greg looked over his shoulder, but the cloth across his face hid any expression except his eyes, which were crinkled slightly at the corners in a smile.
"I didn't mind," was all he said. Then he patted Nick hand again before taking the handlebars and moving out of the parking spot completely. They moved slowly through the underground parking lot, and Nick marveled at the thrill vibrating through his every nerve. Then they hit traffic and Greg hit the gas.
The air washed over them in great rushing torrents and the cold lashed at their bodies and the wind tore at their clothes. Just outside the muffled silence of his helmet, Nick could hear Greg laughing in pure joy, obviously enjoying himself. It wasn't until he tried to make himself relax in to that same joy that he noticed two things: that he had returned to his death grip on his crush's waist, and that Greg was ever so slightly leaning back in to his embrace. He barely had time to wonder before they came to their very first high-speed turn.
He couldn't resist the panic as Greg leaned in to the curve and their bodies consequently lowered close to the ground. Nick gaped at the pavement rushing by only inches away at speeds unknown to him, thankful that he had been given the helmet and jacket until it finally hit him that, should they lose control, there was nothing between Greg and the unforgiving pavement but a small white t-shirt. As they pulled put of the turn and sped up on to a straight stretch Nick thought about lifting his visor to yell to Greg to stop so that he could hand the jacket back to its owner, but that would mean letting go of Greg with one of his hands. He felt as if, should he let go, he'd fall off. So he settled for promising to give Greg heck for leaving himself so unprotected.
After forcing down the panic through a few more turns, Nick managed to begin to enjoy them. Just as he was beginning to see the fun in defying death every time they had to change directions, they were turning up his street and the taste of disappoint was hot in his mouth. Greg inched up his driveway until they were almost touching the garage door, then he put the kickstand down and cut the engine. Nick shifted, smiling when he noticed that his butt was numb from the vibrations of the motor. He almost tripped getting off, and his face was red as he pulled the helmet off. Greg looked up from putting his keys in his pocket, but when he looked at Nick he suddenly burst out laughing.
"What?" Nick cried indignantly, blushing harder. Greg put a hand over his eyes.
"You…you have helmet hair!" he exclaimed. Nick blinked, instinctively raising one hand to feel his hair. It was standing on end and pointing in some very odd directions. He sighed and tried his best to flatten it, giving up after a few tries because he knew it was hopeless.
"You want to come in?" he offered to take the focus away from how silly he looked. Greg looked up again, not laughing this time, and he smiled.
"Yeah," he agreed simply. He swung off his bike with the same ease he'd gotten on and followed Nick up to the house, swaggering a little, much to Nick's amusement. The Texan shifted uncomfortably in his jeans as he unlocked the front door and let them both in, and he almost jumped out of his skin when Greg spoke from over his shoulder, much closer than he'd thought the blonde had been.
"So you like the bike?" he asked in an odd tone of voice that Nick couldn't really define. He cleared his throat, shifting his hips again.
"Um, yeah," was all he could find to say. Suddenly Greg smirked.
"I could tell," he said, his eyes sliding down. Nick followed his gaze and looked down at himself. It was clear instantly why his jeans seemed to be so tight; he was hard. Painfully hard. He blushed so hard he thought his face would burn off, but Greg only widened his smirk. "That was either for me or the bike and since you're not gay, I figured it had to be the bike. Funny, I never figured you for that kind of kink, Nicky." He winked as he passed by, inviting himself in to the kitchen and helping himself to a glass of water. Nick couldn't really find anything to say to that, so he mumbled a few incoherent, incomplete sentences as his face attempted to reach new temperature highs.
"You're not freaked or anything, right?" he asked uncertainly. "I mean you're not gay either so you're not offended or grossed out…right?" He was intrigued when Greg smiled softly over the rim of his cup.
"Actually I am gay…and I'm about as far from offended as one could be," he replied gently. Nick wasn't sure what made him look, but he did. Greg was hard too. When he looked back up, Greg's cheeks were tinged pink but he met Nick's gaze steadily. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
"It wasn't for the bike," Nick's voice came out in a whisper. "Well…partly but…not…not wholly…" He'd had many fantasies of him and Greg getting together, and in all of them he'd been suave and his words had come out perfect. Now that he might actually be getting a chance, all he could do was stammer ever so quietly. He almost mourned for ruining what small chance he might have, but Greg put his cup down and pushed away from the counter he was leaning up, slowly walking over.
"Me?" he asked, sounding as uncertain and Nick felt. The older man nodded nervously and Greg flashed him a smile. He came to a stop when they were only feet apart and fluttered his fingers against his thighs.
"You were, um, hanging on pretty tight. And it was sort of…pressed against me. I thought about taking some detours." He grinned as he admitted that. Nick grinned too. Then Greg took a deep breath, looking nervous. "Would you…could I kiss you?" he asked suddenly. Nick stared at him.
"I've never kissed a man before," he replied, aware that he wasn't actually answering the question. Greg seemed to take it as a no because he backed off and his smile looked disappointed. Nick reached out to grab his wrist and took a step closer to close the gap between them again. "I'd like to," he edited. It was Greg's turn to stare.
"Really?" he asked, surprised. Nick grinned and just nodded, leaving the first move up to Greg. He had no idea of how these things worked, but he wanted very much to find out. He closed his eyes as Greg leaned closer slowly, but even though he was expecting it, he was still surprised when soft lips met and pressed against his own. He felt almost as if he was melting in to the feeling. The feeling of butterflies erupted in his stomach and his head spun. It was as if something clicked, something came together. He felt complete.
When they pulled apart, it took him a moment to realize that he was still holding Greg tightly, that his arms had somehow worked their way around the younger man's body. They smiled at each other and he blinked slowly.
"So this is what it feels like…" he murmured softly to himself, not realizing that he was saying it out loud. He was so distracted by the color of Greg's eyes, the way they shone, and the way that they fixated on him so completely. He loved being the sole object of those eyes' attention.
"What what feels like?" Greg asked him just as softly. He was startled and blushed just as heavily as he had before.
"Love," he answered in a scared, unsure voice. Greg's eyes widened and Nick watched as the spark deep inside them grew even brighter. He blinked then, and they crinkled with a wide smile. He leaned forward to kiss Nick a second time, and when he pulled back he was still smiling.
"Yes, this is most definitely what love feels like," the blonde agreed. Nick was sure that the expression on his face was goofy, even dopey, but he couldn't have cared less. It was as if, instead of his coworker, his every dream and fantasy had walked through the door and in to his arms. Hoping that this wasn't all just a very good dream, Nick tugged on Greg's waist, moving them in the direction of his bedroom.
"Let's explore that feeling, shall we?" he asked nervously. Greg's eyes were burning, and he didn't need to say a word to convey his answer.