Hodges was having the best dream. He, Nick and Greg were on a tropical island, lying in the sun. There, they could be as nauseatingly obvious about their relationship as they wanted. And they certainly capitalized on that opportunity. In fact, Nick and Greg dragged Hodges somewhere slightly more private and began sucking him off together.

Everything about the situation was so real; from the way their tongues darted out to taste him, to the way their hands knowingly roamed his body. Hodges actually felt like he was thrusting his hips up into those mouths, feeling their slick warmth surrounding him. Then, the next thing he knew, his eyes were open and he was staring up at Greg's ceiling—only he wasn't alone, and his hips really were thrusting into something warm. With a glance downward, Hodges knew for certain that he was no longer dreaming. The covers were pulled down to his thighs and Nick's hand was curled tightly around his cock.

It was his hips doing most of the work while Nick simply kept his hand steady, increasing the tightness of his grip when Hodges' thrusts became more erratic. It felt fucking amazing; and all too soon, David's orgasm struck. His hand shot out to clutch Nick's arm as he rode out the heavenly shudders overtaking his body. A groggy whimper tore itself from his throat as Nick continued to stroke him through to the very last sensation.

All Hodges could do at that point was suck in a lungful of air and meet the Texan's eyes.

"Good morning," said Nick. He was lying on his side, head propped up in one hand. His other hand, now sticky and wet, roamed down David's shaft to cup his balls.

"Hi," Hodges breathed, feeling oddly speechless. He was having a difficult time tearing his gaze away from the hand still fondling him. "You should really wake me up like that more often..."

Nick laughed and rolled onto his back. "I'll keep that in mind."

Smiling, Hodges closed the small distance between them and laid his head on the CSI's chest. The man's skin was hot and smelled faintly his favourite brand of cologne. That smell was one of the things Hodges would recognize anywhere, just like Nick's laugh or his slight southern accent.

"So how's your chest doing?" Nick's hand came up to caress his lover's head. It was soothing enough that Hodges could almost fall back asleep, which was a very tempting notion, especially with the warmth and comfort of Nick's arms around him.

"Much better," David told him. It had been nearly a week since the biting fiasco, which proved plenty of time for the teeth marks to fade and his skin to heal up. By now, they were nothing more than faint reminders of he and Greg's wild night.

"Good," Nick replied, trailing his fingers down Hodges' cheek. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

Hodges couldn't help but stare up at his lover suspiciously. "Oh really? Are you sure about that?" he joked.

The Texan rolled his eyes. "Alright, let me rephrase that," he began. "I don't like seeing you in pain when it's not during sex." His thumb gently stroked Hodges' cheek. "That better?"

The trace technician snuggled closer to his lover. "You're making me all hard again..."

"What is it with you in the mornings?" Nick laughed, enjoying the tight embrace. David's erection pressed against his hip, aroused and insistent.

"I can't help it. Waking up beside you makes me horny," he replied, his breath tickling Nick's chest.

Their moment was suddenly interrupted by the loud vibrating of Hodges' cell phone. With an annoyed groan, the grey-haired man glared at it sitting on the nightstand. He wanted nothing more than to pretend he hadn't even heard it, but what if it was something important? Sighing, he reached over and brought the phone up to his ear.

"David?" The voice on the other end of the line was painfully familiar. The trace technician sucked in a rasping breath when he realized who it was.

"Why are you calling me?" Hodges snapped, springing from the bed like a bat out of hell. He could feel Nick's eyes on him as he tossed on a pair of boxers, but he'd deal with that later. This was not a conversation he was having with Nick in the room.

"I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I needed to apologize for how I acted in Seattle," Jeff explained as Hodges stepped out onto the balcony.

The fresh early-morning air felt cool against David's skin, but inside he was burning with anger. All he could do was shake his head. "Why bother?" he replied bitterly. "You're just wasting your time and money right now."

"That's just it—this isn't a long distance call. I'm in Las Vegas."

The trace technician suddenly felt dizzy. "Jeff..."

"It's just a coincidence, I swear. I'm here for my cousin's wedding," he insisted. "But I thought since I'm in town and I still had your number..." To Hodges' disappointment, the man actually sounded sincere. Damn him. "I'd really like to see you in person, David."

Hodges frowned. Why couldn't Jeff just leave him alone? "You lied to me that night."

"I know..."

"You promised to be nice—and what do you do instead? You embarrass me in front of the two people I care about most," David bristled. The wound he'd worked so hard to heal after Seattle had been abruptly reopened. "I should have never brought you over to meet them in the first place."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then: "I couldn't help it. I was so hurt when you left LA. Maybe I just wanted to get back at you."

Hodges paced the balcony anxiously. "How mature."

"I was jealous, okay?" Jeff said in self-defence. There was an undercurrent of sadness in his voice that Hodges refused to acknowledge. "Are you still with them—the two CSIs?"

"Yes. And I'm not going to risk fucking that up again just to see you."

"David, please—"

"No. That's all I have to say to you," Hodges barked into the phone. He hung up a second later and slumped against the sliding glass door, feeling inexplicably drained. Jeff had an uncanny talent for putting him in a foul mood, but that was the least of his concerns. What the trace technician still didn't understand was why the redhead bothered calling in the first place. Jeff had men throwing themselves at him all the time. There was no reason for him to be grovelling after an old crush.

David remained on the balcony a while longer, pondering the phone call. The beautiful morning sun gleamed bright in the sky, but Hodges was too far up in his head to take in the sight. All he could hear, over and over again in his mind, was Jeff's voice—hurt, shocked, disappointed—when he found out Hodges was being transferred to Vegas. At the time, Hodges convinced himself that he was reading too much into the situation. The truth was quite the opposite. Jeff had been heartbroken; had admitted that to him. But even then, David didn't owe the man anything. And he certainly didn't now.

Some time later, when Hodges finally drifted back into the apartment, he was met by the sight of Nick sprawled out on the couch. He had the utmost faith that Nick would never purposefully eavesdrop on him. But then again, if it was Nick bolting from the bedroom to answer a secret phone call, Hodges would probably be suspicious too.

Inevitably, Nick was going to ask him about what just happened. In order to circumvent that question, Hodges parked himself on the couch and began explaining Jeff's call.

At first he couldn't be sure how the Texan had taken the information. He stayed completely silent until Hodges finished; at which point he let out a contemplative sigh.

"He must have strong feelings for you to be this persistent," Nick mused. "As much as I'd like to rip his nuts off, I can't really blame him. I know what being in love with you feels like."

Hodges blinked in surprise at his lover's diplomacy. The response was certainly unexpected, but welcome nonetheless. David was just glad not to see Nick fly off the handle. It was just a phone call, in the end, and the trace technician had no plans to see the redhead.

"The difference," Hodges replied, "is that your feelings are returned." This drew a pleased smile from the Texan. The grey-haired man reached over to twine his fingers with Nick's. "How about I make you breakfast? Then maybe later we can pick up where we left off."

Nick brought their twined fingers up to his mouth and kissed the back of David's hand. "God, this is why I love you. You're all crabby and sarcastic at work, but once we get you home..." He paused for a moment, searching for the right phrase.

"Continue," Hodges urged, quirking an eyebrow.

Nick cleared his throat. "That tough shell of yours drops away and we get to see what's underneath."

The trace technician couldn't help but smile. Nick was very good at flattering him by now. "Just for that, I'll make those mini waffles you like," David told him, heading into the kitchen. "And I won't complain if you want to watch Animal Planet."

For the rest of the morning, Nick was on cloud nine. After letting Hodges spoil him with his favourite breakfast, the two men curled up on the couch together and watched TV for a while. Nick was so relaxed he nearly fell back asleep—at least, until Greg walked through the door carrying a gift bag with him.

Nick yawned and sat up a bit. "So this is it, huh?" he asked, eyeing the parcel. Greg nodded, though there was a hint of mischievousness to his grin.

"No snooping. Your birthday isn't until tomorrow," Greg warned.

Nick cast his lover a theatrical frown from across the apartment. "But I thought we were celebrating today?"

"Trust me Nicky, you'll be too excited if I let you open it before we go out tonight."

The two other men peered at each other in bewilderment. Not even Hodges knew what the bag contained, but that statement certainly promised something good.

Though he remained insanely curious, Nick agreed to not to peek at his present, provided he could open it when they got home later that night. Reluctantly, Greg consented to his terms and they dropped the subject.

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging around the apartment and playing with Little Kobe. Nick was especially looking forward to the night ahead. Between the stress of work and trying to keep his relationship with Greg and Hodges off everyone's radar, he could really use an evening out. The place he selected—a modest Asian-themed nightclub called Pagoda—promised for an interesting outing. Although it had actually been Greg's suggestion, Nick was feeling strangely adventurous. And besides, a drink was a drink. The main thing was that he'd have both of the people he loved there with him.

As Nick soon discovered, Pagoda was not nearly as modest as Greg made it seem. The place had a very intimate feel, despite its huge size. Each red leather booth, of which there were many scattered throughout the room, had its own shoji-screen enclosure for privacy. The staff were all dressed in kimono-style shirts and carried trays of martinis through the crowd. The dance floor was off to one side of the bar, already filled with people by the time Nick, Greg and Hodges arrived.

After being led to their booth by one of the hostesses, the Texan leered questioningly at Greg. "I thought you said this place was small?"

"Well, I might have exaggerated a bit..." Greg admitted, glancing around the large room. He almost looked nervous. "We can go somewhere else if you want."

Nick dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. "No, I like it," he replied, pleased to see Greg smile back at him.

"So what are we buying you, birthday boy?" Hodges asked, leaning toward the CSI. "Scotch? Whiskey? Tequila?"

"How about I start with a rum and coke?" Nick said with a laugh. David cast him an if you say so kind of look, but nodded nonetheless.

When their hostess returned, they ended up ordering several rounds of shots in addition to Nick's drink. It was all part of Greg's plan to get both of his lovers intoxicated enough to get up and dance with him. It actually seemed to be working quite well on Hodges. Since he was the lightweight of the group, it only took a couple of Kamikazes to get him drunk. Nick, on the other hand, was a much tougher nut to crack. Greg knew that quite well. After all, the Texan's ability to hold his liquor was one of the things that started their relationship, ironically enough.

After several rum and cokes, Nick was still far too sober, so Greg ordered them each a mixed shot called a Pornstar, which they did together. It wasn't long, however, before Nick caught onto his clever scheme and captured one of Greg's hands in his.

"Are you trying to get me wasted, Greggo?"

The young man put on a charming smile. "Yes," he admitted. "I've never seen you really drunk in all the time we've been together. And it's your birthday... so why not?"

Nick looked thoroughly amused. Still in control of Greg's hand, Nick made the Norwegian pick up his glass and drink from it. "I'd rather see you drunk." Excitement glimmered in his eyes. "I know how you get. And I wouldn't mind seeing you whip your dick out to put on another little show for me."

Oh god. Greg abruptly scurried out of the booth and stood up. Nick was going to make him so fucking hard if he kept talking like that. "I promise to get as drunk as you want if the two of you dance with me," he proposed, offering both men his best puppy dog eyes.

It was miraculous, the lack of convincing it took—even for Hodges, who at his best claimed to have two left feet. Greg didn't know whether it was the alcohol or if it was just his lucky day, but a few short minutes later, the three of them were having the time of their lives on the dance floor.

Hodges discovered that dancing with Nick and Greg was quite like having sex with Nick and Greg, only they were clothed and surrounded by other people. He ended up in the middle of their impromptu dance sandwich, with he and Greg face-to-face and Nick pressed up against him from behind. The lack of 'traditional' dancing came as quite a relief. What they were doing was more like grinding their bodies together, which Hodges actually felt capable of. Greg clearly had some aptitude at it—the trace technician couldn't take his eyes off his lover's hips, swaying to the beat of the music and brushing across his every so often. Even above and beyond that sight was the feel of Nick's warm body surrounding him from behind. At some point, the Texan's hands snaked around to grip David's hips, guiding them in unison from side to side.

Soon enough, the movement became so natural that Hodges didn't even have to think about it anymore. He simply let himself relax and surrendered to the experience.

Getting wasted at a club the night before his cousin's wedding was definitely not his smartest idea. Then again, Jeff wasn't known for having very many smart ideas (outside of work, at least).

In his defence, he couldn't just sit alone in his hotel room all night. The confinement was making him stir-crazy, just like being alone with his thoughts. Nothing could have distracted him from the miserable state of his life quite like alcohol and a giant, noisy room full of strangers.

It was now after midnight; he'd been sitting at the bar so long that he and the bartender knew each other by name. Normally, he would have walked around, maybe introduced himself to a cute guy... but not tonight. Tonight, just when he thought he couldn't get any more pathetic, he was sulking like a baby and feeling sorry for himself.

And to think he used to be in a rock band. What happened to those days? Now he was just a thirty-something ginger with high cholesterol and a bunch of gaudy tattoos.

"How're you doing, Jeff?" It was the bartender, back again to spoon-feed him more drinks. "Can I get you another?" he asked, gesturing to the redhead's empty glass.

"Sure. Why not," he replied, watching the man refill his scotch and soda.

"You know, you should get out there and mingle. You won't meet anyone sitting here chatting with me," the man told him. "Not that I mind the company."

Jeff managed a feeble smile. "I'm not sure if I want to meet anyone, to tell you the truth." He sipped his drink, staring wistfully at the liquid inside. "Maybe you're right though. I guess it wouldn't hurt to wander around a bit." After saying goodbye and paying his tab he got up and headed toward the dance floor.

The club itself wasn't unlike the places he frequented back home, only he didn't know anyone here. Most of the people were just regular folk—some locals, some tourists like him. This wasn't Jeff's first time in Vegas, however. Just the first time since David moved here. And for some reason, that changed the city completely.

Jeff's scotch and soda didn't last him nearly as long as he'd hoped. To supplement it, he grabbed a martini from one of the passing hostesses and popped the olive into his mouth. It tasted more like alcohol than an olive; not that he could really tell the difference by that point. He'd been here far too long with no discernable goal other than getting drunk enough to forget about David Hodges.

Unfortunately, fate wasn't very kind to Jeff. It never was. Not when it came to the things he really wanted in life—the things that actually mattered. As painful as it was, he'd come to terms with that reality a long time ago. But there was no way Jeff could've predicted that even fate would be this cruel to him.

He was standing near an empty booth, working on his second martini. The mass of bodies on the dance floor held his attention for a while, undulating like one giant, living being. Every once in a while, a person in the crowd would catch his eye; a tall blond in a leather jacket, a cute brunette with a goatee. But it was all just innocent people-watching. At least, until he saw a face he recognized from Seattle.

It was Greg, the CSI with the cute, messy hair. One of Hodges' colleagues.

The brawny one that nearly attacked Jeff that day—Nick, if he remembered right—was also there. The man dancing in between them, Jeff realized with a pained breath, was David.

All he could do was stare. It made him feel like some kind of peeping Tom, looking in on a part of David's life that he wasn't supposed to see. Any doubts in Jeff's mind about the three of them being lovers promptly disappeared. The way they touched each other with such familiarity and passion made him ache in more ways than one. Firstly, for what he couldn't have, and secondly, for the beauty of what he was seeing.

The trio danced a while longer—three, maybe four songs, Jeff wasn't sure, he'd lost track of time—before breaking away from the crowd. The smiles on their faces told a story of three people very much in love, truly committed to each other. More so than ever, Jeff felt like a voyeur to something he might never have himself.

When the three of them disappeared into one of the screened-in booths, the redhead was both disappointed and relieved.

It took him several minutes to figure out what to do with himself. He rarely got this worked up over anything; but that wasn't what worried him at the moment. Jeff's main concern was the fact that his legs seemed to be carrying in David's direction at an alarming pace.

Jeff only had time for one thought before he crossed the point of no return.

I'm too drunk for this.