Author's Note: "What we've got here … is failure to communicate." –Strother Martin

Two chapters. Angst/Romance. Nick/Greg. Nick's POV. Slash.

I'd also like to thank everyone who's ever reviewed one of my stories. I don't generally reply to them (like on WMTDB) but I love and appreciate every single one of them. Sometimes it's just a great feeling to go back and re-read what someone thought of one of my stories. For one story, this review actually made me think about myself, and how it was almost dead accurate for me. It was a weird feeling, but I'd been going through some hard stuff at the time, and it helped me to open up. So, all in all … I just wanted to say thank-you.

Disclaimer: If only I was Anthony Zuiker, then I could say I owned Nick and Greg, but I do not. If only … if only …

Acknowledgements: Thanks to Amanda for editing it. Or reading it over and finding a few mistakes and just telling me how much she loved it.

Summary: If you don't open your heart, then the words can never come. If you don't spell it out, then he'll never know. Especially with Nick … he's kind of oblivious some days.

Failure to Communicate

Nick sighed freely as he exited Grissom's office. Another murder solved. Another person going to jail. Sometimes he wondered about the world, but he knew that—

Nick was almost knocked right off his feet. A blur had barreled into him, and the wind was completely gone from his lungs as he stumbled backwards.

"Sorry, Nick!" Greg cried, grabbing the older man's arm to stop him from falling. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Nick wheezed, clutching his chest.

"I was just coming to see you about something," Greg said, eyeing the Texan in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Nick replied. He took a deep breath, trying to get his diaphragm to expand. "What did you want to see me about?"

Greg hesitated, his face paling.

"I was … I was …" He stopped and took a calming breath. "I was going to—to ask you if you … you w—wanted to uh … go out for lunch? Wait, no, I mean breakfast! Breakfast. Would you want to go out with me for breakfast?" Greg finished in a rush, his cheeks ablaze.

"Sure," Nick said casually, shrugging his shoulders.

Greg beamed at him, his eyes almost radiating an otherworldly light.

"All right, cool. I'll uh … go finish up my report for Grissom and I'll meet you in the locker room."

"Okay," Nick said, smiling at the younger man. He almost laughed out loud when he saw Greg skip off down the hallway. He'd never seen the young CSI Level One this excited to go out for breakfast before.

Once in the locker room, Nick found Warrick sitting on the bench, pulling on a tight fitting black t-shirt.

"Hey," Nick said as he unlocked his locker and pulled out his jacket.

"Hey."

"How was your case?"

"It's always bad when there's a kid involved," Warrick muttered darkly, his expression clouding over.

"Mhmm," Nick agreed, sighing.

"So any plans for the day?" Warrick asked, bending down to tie his shoe.

Nick shrugged nonchalantly.

"Just going out for breakfast with Greg, then heading home to sleep."

Warrick turned to stare at Nick for a second, his vibrant green eyes locking on to Nick's own chocolate brown eyes.

"Just you two going out for breakfast?"

"Yeah, unless you'd want to come, too?" Nick responded, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Right at that moment, Greg bounded in to the room. He clapped Nick on the shoulder and bounced over to his locker, humming a tune to himself.

"Ready to go?" Greg asked Nick cheerfully, his head inside his locker.

"Yeah, I was just asking—"

Warrick shook his head violently, cutting Nick short. The Texan gazed at his best friend uncertainly, but Warrick didn't say anything.

"Asking what?" Greg inquired, poking his head out of the locker.

Before Nick could get a word out, Warrick jumped to his feet.

"Just asking me about my case, Greggo. Nothin' big."

Greg nodded as he grabbed his sweater and pulled it on. Warrick slid a sneaky glance at Nick, but all he did was pat the Texan on the shoulder, and wave as he exited the room. Nick hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Without even realizing it, Greg was leading him out of the room and down the hall towards the under ground parking lot.

"Where do you want to go for breakfast?" Greg questioned him once they were outside, the chill fall air biting at their faces.

Nick didn't really answer; his mind was still trying to piece together Warrick's encrypted actions.

"Well, if you're leaving it up to me, why don't we go somewhere out of the norm?"

Again, Nick didn't really answer. All he did was shrug his shoulders and kind of nod at the same time. Greg must've taken that as a yes, because he suddenly started walking with even more of a spring in his step.

"I know the perfect place …" Greg said, his shoulder bumping gently against Nick's. "You'll love it—it has this chocolate fondue fountain and …"

The next day, Nick was putting his jacket into his locker before shift when Warrick sauntered into the room, a sly grin on his face.

"So how was your date?" he asked, eyeing Nick knowingly.

The Texan stopped short, slowly turning around.

"What date?"

"You know what date."

Nick blinked, trying to figure out what Warrick meant.

"Honestly, man, I have no idea."

Warrick leaned up against the locker next to Nick's. He smiled and slowly drawled out Greg's name. In response, Nick rolled his eyes and asked what Greg had to do with a date. It was Warrick's turn to roll his eyes.

"I was talking about your date with Greggo."

Nick felt as if a fire had been lit behind his cheeks. He knew he was blushing badly, but he tried to ignore it.

"It wasn't a date."

Warrick's startlingly green eyes rolled once again, and Nick knew that his friend didn't believe him. For some reason, Nick's hands had started to shake. He turned back to his locker and hung his jacket up, but after he had accomplished that, he spun on his heel to face Warrick. He could feel an undercurrent of anger flowing through his veins.

"Honestly 'Rick, it wasn't a date. I don't even know how you got that idea," he growled, almost glaring at his best friend.

Warrick shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief.

"No one smiles that big when they're just going for breakfast with a co-worker," he replied.

Nick felt his cheeks blaze with fire once again, but he didn't drop his gaze.

"Me and Greg are just friends. JUST FRIENDS!" he practically shouted, turning to slam his locker shut.

With his eyes focused on his locker, Nick didn't notice Greg walk by the locker room at that moment. The exact same moment that the Texan had lost it. Greg stopped for a second, but he continued on his way, not even looking back.