Nobody's Listening
Summary: Greg's been coming into work lately with his iPod headphones everlastingly attached to his ears. No one can figure out why…
Pairings: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders
Warnings: Slash
Spoilers:
Some from the season six series and the episode called
"Gum
Drops"—Hence the title of the chapter! And a little bit from the
episode "Boom".
Chapter Four: Gum Drops
Slowly opening his front door Nick sighed and stood in the rain, allowing himself to become drenched in the freezing cold droplets. He shivered only once before venturing inside the warmth of his house. For the dry desert land that he resided on, the freezing rain was rare, but not un-heard of. Closing and locking his front door, Nick moved towards his security box. Allowing his fingers to roll over his password, Nick found himself welcoming the darkness for once in his life without being afraid.
Flicking his tongue out, wetting his lips, Nick waddled through his condo, making his way towards the kitchen. Flipping on a light, a loud thunder rumbled outside, startling him slightly. Gripping onto the wall behind him, Nick steadied himself. Breathing deeply, he grabbed a glass from the counter, and filled it up with his filtered water from inside the refrigerator.
Taking long, calming gulps of the purified water, Nick set the glass down with a soft thud and moved out to his living room. Collecting a few items from the floor, Nick cautiously looked up as he stood over his green "T" rug, waiting for his stalker to fall through the ceiling once again, just like he had done at his old apartment. Luna cable was in the trash now, and Nick preferred Time Warner Digital Cable—with even more channels that he'd never, ever, watch. Sure, the Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, Spike TV, ESPN, and any other sports channel were the most commonly used channels, but every once in a while when his nieces and nephews would drop by Noggin, Cartoon Network, or the Disney Channel would blare wildly in his living room on his 62" Plasma TV,
High Definition—in his eyes—was the best thing ever invented, next to the discovery of DNA and fingerprints.
Plopping down on his couch, Nick reached for the black remote under the seat cushion and tuned into a channel he never even know he had; Fitness. He laughed as he watched Richard Simmons do the Locomotion on his TV in his spandex. If Warrick ever found out about this ever being on his TV, he would be forever shunned in a social ladder. Though, this was something he pictured Doc. Robinson doing in his living room as therapy for himself.
Flipping the channel, Nick decided that Growing up Tiger was cute; he'd seen it already. Sports were all last minute things, dealing with the loss of the state's football team, and Dog: The Bounty Hunter didn't seem all that thrilling. Super Volcano, even, seemed annoying to him (he'd seen that movie so many times, he could almost recite every line. He even could rattle off some of the statistics about Jelly Stone Park being one GIANT volcano, just waiting to erupt from its dormant state.) "Go figure…" Frowning, Nick decided to be adventurous and flip to one of his back channels. Finding a movie he liked on Pay-Per-View, Nick punched in his password and the familiar roll of the trailers appeared on his screen. Reaching for another remote under his couch cushion, Nick tuned into his surround sound, knocking up the volume even more.
Hearing his stomach growl loudly, Nick glanced down and smirked, knowing he hadn't eaten anything since his midnight snack around two hours ago, just before he got off work. Pushing himself up, Nick waltzed out into his kitchen and started to dig around through his freezer. Deciding that the really didn't want to prepare a steak, or chicken, or ribs, or any other appetizing meat product like that, Nick settled on the one all American food that would always be there, no matter what. Even if hell froze over, and the apocalypse took over Nevada and Houston, Texas, Nick knew there would always be cold pizza waiting in his freezer, just waiting to be popped into the oven.
Not even bothering to preheat his oven, Nick threw the rounded pizza in on an old cookie sheet and set the timer for about thirty minutes. Returning to the living room, with only the night-light in the kitchen on, Nick settled down on the wrap-around couch once again and pulled a blanket over—"Yeah, I might want to go change…"
The CSI, level three, slowly worked his way up the long flight of stairs that never seemed to end. Taking in a heavy sigh once he reached the top, Nick looked about and made a left—heading into the bathroom. Stripped off his second layer of skin, Nick stuffed them down the hamper, and smirked when he heard them "plop" loudly in the basket downstairs, in the basement. Nick quickly toweled down and dried what little hair he had on his head.
Walking into his bedroom, with nothing on, Nick slid into a pair of black pajama pants and slipped into a tight black beater to match. Dropping the towel back off in the bathroom, Nick ran down his stairs, two at a time and leapt onto the couch, just in time for The Chronicles of Riddick to flair to life on his large screen. An old woman's voice could be heard, describing the exposition of the story, and providing some background to its viewers. Just as his blanket was tucking tightly around his body, shielding the Texan from the rain's shivers, the timer on his oven sounded loudly.
Grumbling, he stood up, once again, and let his navy blue blanket fall to the floor. Out in the kitchen, Nick reached up onto the wall to grasp a potholder. Gloving his hand, the CSI reached in and pulled out his pizza with cheese, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, and olives. Setting it atop the stove, Nick commenced slicing through the soft, fluffy dough and piled six slices on a plate. Grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, Nick headed into the living room.
Rain continued to pour outside, while lightning crashed, and thunder drummed outside his house, making the world seem so gloomy. Inside, Nick was curled up on his wrap-around couch, navy blue (fleece) blanket tucked around him with a beer on the floor beside him and all the pizza he could want on a plate before him. Life couldn't get any better… But maybe he could get used to having a soft head of hair lying in his lap while he would card his fingers through the soft, silky hair. Tender soft words would escape from those lush, pink lips, taunting and tormenting him to grow out his long cock. A part of him longed for that white picket fence, playing with a dog—or two—and throwing a football around the house, while crashing it through the upstairs window; shattering it.
He could just hear Greg's voice yelling at one of the eldest sons to take the football outside, only to have the bottom bay window be crashed in by their daughter's soccer ball. Greg would probably say there was a now balls rule within a one mile radius; but even then, the kids would probably find a way to still do damage to their home. The dog would sleep with Nick and Greg at night—"WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING?!"
Choking on the large bite of pizza lodged in his throat, Nick took in a long gasp for air as soon as the food found it's way to his stomach. Chasing his coughs with a long drag of beer, Nick starred horrified at the TV. I'm not gay, I'm not gay, and I'm just concerned over a colleague. That's all this is: yes. Gregory Sander's is just a friend—with a sexy ass and a gorgeous face—WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT STOKES!!!
Moving his pizza aside, Nick bolted to his feet and ran to the kitchen to splash some water on his face. Scrubbing deep down into his pores, Nick looked into his rainy reflection in the window starring him back, laughingly. Nick wasn't gay; he was far from it! He enjoyed the feeling of boobs under his palms, the way a woman would scream when he pumped his large cock into her tight pussy. He enjoyed the little love scratches they'd leave on his shoulders and everything else amazing about a woman's body.
Greg had nothing to offer! All he had was a tight ass that held a neon sign up above it and flashed "Fuck me, I'm a free virgin". Greg was a dorky, geeky CSI who could rattle off the elements from the periodic table in his sleep, and know that if you added one plus an infinite number, you'd get… well, Nick wasn't sure what you'd get, but it proved his point that Greg was a loser, and no better than a friend; a good friend who was always there for all his one-night stands, stand ups, and family problems.
"Daddy, I'm home!" Nick's head shot up and smiled when his adopted daughter bound towards him and enveloped her father into a large hug by laying over him.
"Did you have fun over at Lindsay's, Cassie?" Nick pushed the fourteen-year-old girl back slightly and kissed her cheek lovingly.
"Yep! Mrs. Willow's just dropped me off with a black man in the passenger's seat." Cassie looked thoughtful for a moment, "Daddy, do you know a black CSI?"
"Yes, honey, his name is Warrick Brown."
"Well, I think Mrs. Willow's and Mr. Brown are goona get some tonight. He looked hornier than—"
"Where did we learn this language from?" Giving his adoptive daughter a pointed look, she glanced about before she answered.
"Well, I'm just quoting Lindsay." Nick nodded, knowing he'll have to tell Cath that her daughter needed her mouth washed out with soap, or that both the girls will have to be home schooled from now on to fend them off from boys, drugs, sex, and bad language.
"Uh-huh."
"What's for dinner?" Cassie paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Wow, feels weird saying that since I'm always asking what's for breakfast." She laughed.
"Well, since daddy got called in early this morning they let me have a few hours to myself before I have to return. Sorry, I should have taken you out for some real food tonight—"
"Nah, I'll just mooch off your plate." Cassie dropped her school bag on the floor before leaping into Nick's lap and steeling two slices of pizza from his plate. Taking a bite out of the tips first, she looked at Nick and smiled happily. Shaking his head, Nick sometimes found it hard to believe that this happy teenaged girl was the same girl he and his teammates rescued four years ago…
Cassie was ten then, and still had the last name of McBride. Nick was the first CSI on the scene and felt completely disgusted with the events of the house. Blood pools, three major ones, littered the downstairs. Through out the case, Nick was torn, knowing that it wasn't Cassie's day to die, and he was extremely happy now that he knew to follow his gut feeling. After all, they found him… Once they found her, and Nick got the fell loose ends tied up from the eyewitness Nick was caught gazing at the adorable, sloppy, drawing of the ten-year-old child. Only, Greg was the only person to call it.
"Nick, she has no other family." Greg's voice was soft, so soft that Nick was sure he hadn't heard it at all. "Children Services will take her, now."
"I know." Nick sighed, as he held his head with one hand. He jumped only slightly when Greg's small fingers worked into his skin, laboring away the stress that built up inside his neck and shoulders.
"Why don't you get permission to adopt her?"
It seemed like the simplest thing in the world. All through out Cassie's recovery, Nick had been there, paying for her hospital bills, spending time with her and bringing her small stuffed toys (But none could match the neon pink, fuzzy elephant that Greg gave her named Bubalicious.) But when the time came, for Children Services to come and take Cassie, Nick meticulously asked the traumatized girl if she'd like to have her Rescuer to adopt her. The Texan was already preparing himself for the no, but when her lithe arms and tiny hands wound around him, he knew that was the only answer he'd ever need.
Now, a father of four years, Nick felt like a Pro. He was able to keep his daughter in school, out of trouble, and away from boys. Cassie Stokes was the smartest of her class, and already taking Chemistry her freshman year of high school. He knew he could thank Greg for that, but the child seemed to like playing with the chemicals and mixing solvents. Grissom called her Mini Greg sometimes, when he'd refer to Nick's daughter at work.
"How's Greg?" Cassie's question threw Nick for a loop as he suddenly started to choke on his beer.
"Good, I guess. There was an accident today and—"
"IS HE OKAY?!"
"Yes, yes, yes! Greggo's fine, just a little shaken up." Cassie nodded and went back to starring at the large TV.
Silence settled between the non-blood-related people. The only sound came from the movie and the storm outside. Nick had taken noticed that Bubalicious was clutched tightly under Cassie's small arms, facing the TV so even the pink elephant could watch the movie: Riddick. Once the pizza was gone, cleared form the plate and the kitchen, and Nick's beer bottle had been drained, Cassie finally opened her mouth when the credits started to roll around eight o'clock.
"Aren't you lonely?" Cassie asked as she started to fold up the fleece navy blue blanket that had kept the two of them warm for the duration of the movie.
Pausing in mid stride, nearly dropping the two plates and beer bottle, Nick whirled around to look at his daughter. "Excuse me?"
"Aren't you lonely? I mean, Riddick was lonely and he loved Keira—but she had to go and die, leaving him alone. Do you have anyone special?"
"I did. But, now I have you."
"Who was he?" Cassie asked as she followed Nick into the kitchen. She smirked when he froze.
"She died. Her name was Kristy, Kristy Hopkins." Nick stated coldly as memories of the whore whose pimp shot her. She was going to get clean and go to college, trying to change her life. Life was too short for that beautiful woman.
"Could've fooled me." Nick turned to Cassie, wanting to know what she meant. "Dad, don't give me that look. I see the way you look at Uncle Greg. You have that look in your eyes like you wish I wasn't in the room sometimes and just want to thrust him against the wall and fuck his brains out and—"
"Cassie, honey, we don't use that language."
"I'm only stating the obvious. What's the problem, go tell Greg you want to screw and you two could—"
"Cass, I'm not gay."
"Could have fooled me." Stretching her arms up high, Cassie yawned. Running a hand through her long light brown hair, she stopped at her neck to scratch. "Well, I'm tired. Night daddy!" Hugging her father, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered something into his ear, making the tanned skin on Nicholas Stokes' face turn bright red. Bounding up the stairs, she closed her bedroom door and soon found her way to bed.
Nick stood stunned inside his kitchen. How could he and his daughter have such an open relationship and still be functional? It was beyond him. Sometimes, he wished she wouldn't talk about sex like she knew what was going on. But, she did have an older brother—even though he was a geek, Nick knew that kid was getting more than just one hundred dollar bills from his midterm papers. Maybe that's where she got it. Her brother must have been really open about sex around her… Or maybe she is just that open-minded.
After clearing the kitchen, Nick dragged himself up to bed. Lying atop the covers, suddenly feeling hot all over, Nick threw an arm over his head and groaned in frustration.
Maybe you could just take him out for a test drive…
Cassie just had to mumble those words into his ear just before bed. She just had to! It's not like Nick had never considered the younger CSI adorable; everything about him was! But there were just some aspects about the blonde that Nick couldn't stand. His music, food choice, coffee addiction, everything! But, when he really thought about that, he really didn't mind. He's just being himself. Not once has he tried to copy us…
That's what drew Nick into the younger man; because he was different. Suddenly, Nick was on fire and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't cool off. The arm that was carelessly tossed over his eyes traveled down his face as three little words slipped from his lips. The three tiniest little words that meant the world to him.
I love him… Oh shit, I love him! Nick was dazzled at how his daughter could see it before he did. Maybe it was good thing that she was there now, he needed her just as much as she needed him. And soon, hopefully, Greg Sanders would fit into their small family. Slowly, but surely he would become a part of Nick and Cassie's lives.
Just as he closed his eyes, allowing the overwhelming feeling of love for another man wash over his body, Nick's right hand traveled slowly down his chest. He needed to be touched, or Nick feared that his massive hard on would implode on him and kill him before he would be able to profess his love to Greg. Slowly, his fingers teasingly slipped under his waistband and lightly gripped his dripping cock.
Fuck yeah…"EW, dad that's gross! Wait till I'm over at Lindsay's house to do that!" Cassie screamed from down the hall.
Groaning, Nick removed his hand and smiled to himself thinking to himself how his daughter knew this stuff, and wasn't yet in a psycho ward for too much parental sex going on inside the house while the child was still there. She didn't even hear him, she couldn't have! Half the time, Nick knew the was just yelling random things to him, showing him that she cared and 9 times outta 10, she was right about what she was yelling about.
Gotta' love that girl. Just like you gotta' love Greg.
CSI: Crime Scene Investigation—
Kira: So, I added Cassie McBride in here! Don't you all just love me? If not, oh well. I wanted to add a new twist to this. I haven't read a fic out there where Nick adopted little Cassie, so I thought, what the hell? Tell me what you all think!
R&R!!!
-Dark Angel Kira
