He was in Frank's Restaurant, sitting in a booth, the cheap vinyl seat taped together with gray duct tape in two different places. He picked at the tape with his nails, wondering why the owner – Frank, he supposed – thought that looked better than just leaving the stuffing hanging out. He removed his fingers, wiping sticky tape residue on his napkin before leaning forward and drumming his fingers against the tabletop. Picked up his coffee cup to take a sip, placed it back down before doing so; he was sure if he drank any more coffee that day, his heart would explode. If it wasn't going to already from anxiety.

"Nick," Warrick said from across the table, pausing in annihilating the omelet in front of him. "You're bouncing around like Lindsey after she's had too much candy. It's making me nervous. What's going on?"

"Hmm?" he asked, stilling in his fidgeting and looking up at Warrick expectantly. As if he wasn't being completely obvious.

Warrick scoffed with amusement. "Come on. What is it?"

While it was true that Nick's intentions had been to finally confide in his friend the true nature of his sexuality and – even more daunting – exactly who he had been seeing, Nick was finding it difficult to broach the subject. Or any subject. He'd just been sitting there, eating his – what was he eating again? Oh, yes, a club sandwich and fries. Which he hadn't touched even though the waitress had dropped off his plate at least twenty minutes ago.

This was proving much more difficult than Nick thought it would be, although he'd taken six months to prepare for this moment. Greg hadn't pressured him – at all, in fact. But Warrick was supposed to be Nick's friend. Maybe even his best friend. And Nick might have felt guilty for keeping something this big from him, but he didn't want to jump the gun. What if he revealed this part of himself, the most secret part of himself, and it ended their friendship? It changed the way they worked together, hung out together? What if he and Greg didn't even work out, and then Nick was left with no boyfriend or best friend?

"Why would you want to be friends with him anyway then?" Greg had asked, idly flipping through Cosmopolitan magazine on the couch when Nick had expressed his concerns. Because that was what Nick did now, talked about his feelings, instead of keeping them inside until they ate away at him and ultimately his relationship with Greg. "Cosmo says I should stick your dick through a donut and eat it off while I blow you."

Nick blinked. "What?"

Which, Greg was of course right. Not about the donut, about Warrick. He wouldn't want to be friends with someone who didn't accept him for who he was, but he really didn't think Warrick was that kind of guy anyway. So he made a promise to himself: that if he and Greg were still together in six months, Nick would tell Warrick.

It would actually be kind of nice to have someone else to talk to besides Sara. Not that it wasn't nice to be able to have a real conversation with her about his life without having to dodge certain subjects or watch his pronouns, but she was definitely not the person to vent to whenever he got into a fight with Greg. He had already made that mistake before, and her loyalties definitely lied with the young lab rat. So maybe he'd finally have a shoulder to cry on too, so to speak.

Well, there was always Jim Brass, but Nick shivered at the thought of confiding anything to the gruff detective. After successfully serving an eviction notice on the man that had unknowingly taken up residence in his attic, Brass had inadvertently witnessed an intimate moment between a shell shocked Nick and Greg. Nick had thought about it often during the week he'd missed work, worrying Brass would tell Grissom or start acting differently around Nick or any myriad number of worse scenarios Nick agonized over.

So when the detective took Nick aside the first day Nick had returned to work, the CSI braced himself and prepared for the worst. But Brass only awkwardly shifted his gaze while quietly but brusquely informing Nick that whatever Nick did in his private life was his own business until it started affecting his work, and only then would Brass make it his business too. It was kind of sweet, in that way that Brass had, but then the detective muttered, "You'd think Sanders would know better than to get caught up with riffraff like you," and quickly left, just in case Nick thought he cared.

And then everything went back to the way it was.

"Just spit it out, man," Warrick said now, more impatiently this time, although Nick could see his eyes shadowed with concern.

Right. Talking. That's what he was supposed to be doing, not sitting there with his mouth opening and closing like a fish. But every time he tried to speak, his voice caught in his throat. He forced air out of his lungs, attempting the words, but all that came out was a squeak, and he cleared his throat as he shifted uneasily in his seat, the vinyl beneath him protesting noisily.

"I…" he began hesitantly, his eyes cast to his breakfast. "I'm…seeing…someone."

There. That wasn't so hard, was it? But when he looked up, Warrick was eyeing him curiously, smiling uncertainly.

"That's good, right?" Warrick asked.

"Uh, yeah…yeah, it's good."

"So what's got you all anxious?" he asked, but in the next moment he was grinning broadly, knowingly. "Unless it's someone I know."

"It is someone you know," Nick responded. "But you can't…you can't tell anyone."

"Hot damn, Nicky, you dog!" his friend exclaimed, rapping on the table loudly with his knuckles. "Who is it? Sara?"

"No," Nick replied hastily. "It's not someone you think."

"Oh, man, is it Catherine?"

"No!" Nick nearly shouted, flustered at Warrick's enthusiasm and the attention they were drawing from other tables. "It's not – !" he started hotly, and then raked his fingers through his hair, leaning against his hand, elbow on the table. Quietly, he continued, unable to meet Warrick's eyes. "It's not…a woman."

It was suddenly very quiet, and after a moment Nick dared to look up into his friend's – hopefully still his friend's – face. Warrick was regarding him dubiously, brow knotted, mouth open, eyes wide and fiercely lit with – shock? Anger? Fear? Nick couldn't tell. They stared at each other, until at least a minute had gone by although it felt like an eternity, and Warrick still wasn't saying anything, just staring at Nick with that same expression and now Nick was beginning to believe this may not have been such a good idea after all.

Nick jerked forward, opening his mouth to say something – anything – to fix this when a familiar tangle of arms and legs flopped down in the booth beside him. The sounds of the diner came back to him with a roar, glasses clinking, people talking, coffee pouring into a carafe.

"Hey, guys," Greg greeted cheerily, unaware of the tense scene he'd just barged into. "Man, what a crazy day, right?"

The young man flashed a chain of white teeth, smiling at the two CSIs, but his focus was all over the place. His eyes traveled to their food and the specials board and the waitress fluttering around and back to their food. He reached for Nick's coffee cup, taking a sip before setting it back down, the cheap ceramic clattering noisily against the saucer, and then he was grabbing fries off of Nick's plate, popping them into his mouth as he eyed the specials board again.

Nick wasn't exactly sure what his face looked like right now, but he was pretty sure it must have given everything away. He watched Warrick's gaze move between Greg and himself, realization dawning in his bright green eyes, his mouth hanging comically open and Nick almost laughed in his hysteria.

"What are the specials today? Anything good?" Greg asked, squinting at the whiteboard across the restaurant, and when he turned back to the table and caught sight of Warrick's stricken expression, he sat up with alarm. "Warrick, are you okay?"

Greg looked at Nick with confusion, opening his mouth as if to ask what was going on, but once he met Nick's gaze, the young man's eyes widened and he gasped in horror.

"Now?" Greg nearly shrieked, his gaze bouncing between the two men. "You're doing it now? Jesus, Nick, give a guy some warning."

"It's been six months," Nick explained feebly, as if that justified everything.

"Six months?" Warrick blurted out.

"Oh, my God," Greg sighed dramatically, bracing his hands on the table as he slid out of the seat to leave. "I'll go. I didn't – I'm sorry. I'll go."

A hand wrapped around Greg's wrist, stopping him from leaving, and when Greg turned back, he looked at Nick expectantly, but the hand didn't belong to Nick. It belonged to Warrick, who was gripping the young lab rat so hard Nick was sure if he'd been any other color his knuckles would've been white.

"No," Warrick said, and Greg sat back down uncertainly, although Nick wasn't sure if it was on his own accord or by force. Warrick released his hold on Greg, who snatched his hand back and rubbed his wrist while pouting. "It's okay."

"Is it?" Nick asked, so quietly he almost didn't hear himself speak. He imagined Saturdays at his house, watching college ball and arguing over who should've won the Heisman Trophy. Imagined nights spent at the casinos, losing too much money playing cards while mooning over cocktail waitresses in tiny skirts, scrounging up the cash left between them to grab a cab home because they'd both drank way too much. Imagined breakfasts just like this one in Frank's Diner, gossiping about coworkers and laughing about ridiculous cases.

Imagined never having any of those things ever again.

He felt Greg comfortingly touch his knee beneath the table. Placed his own hand on top of Greg's, lacing their fingers together. Because even if it wasn't okay, even if he never did have any of those things ever again, at least they would still have each other.

"Yeah. It is." Warrick shifted his gaze from Nick to Greg and back to Nick, and then he leaned back in his seat. Shook his head, scoffing before smiling with disbelief, and now those green eyes were bright with amusement and perhaps just a little bit of mischief. "But I mean…you finally decide settle down and you pick Sanders?"

And just like that, Nick felt the tension release from his body. Greg squeezed his hand gently before removing his hand to pick off more fries from Nick's plate. Nick smiled into his chest, gaze focused on his breakfast as he blinked away the stinging in his eyes.

"I'll have you know that I'm a great catch," Greg stated with great dignity. He paused briefly, before regarding Nick and nudging him in the ribs with an elbow. "This is the part where you're supposed to agree with me."

Nick cleared his throat and nodded, speaking only when he felt like he had his voice under control. "Doesn't know shit about football, though."

"Do too," Greg shot back. "Did you know to make that yellow line on the field, a three-dimensional, virtual model of each field has to be constructed? The center of the field is always higher than the sides and ends for drainage, but the precise levels vary in each venue. They send out a whole team three days in advance with a laser!"

Nick pulled a face. "Why do you know that?"

"When we were watching the game last weekend, I asked you and you said you didn't know," Greg pointed out. "So I looked it up."

"Like I said," Nick sighed. "Doesn't know shit about football."

"Yesterday I learned the down system," Greg declared proudly.

"This doesn't mean you're looking for a replacement to watch games with, does it?" Warrick asked, his hand over his heart as he feigned hurt.

"No, no, no," Nick assured him. "You definitely don't have anything to worry about."

"Good," Warrick said, and then continued playfully, "Because you've got the biggest TV out of all my friends. I won't mind if he joins us though. As long as you keep the technical trivia to yourself there, Greggo."

"I can't help it that I need to know everything," Greg said helplessly. "It's actually quite a burden to be this smart. And good looking."

"Modest, too."

Nick quietly ate his sandwich as he listened to the two men banter back and forth, grinning like a fool as he enjoyed breakfast with his boyfriend and his best friend. The first of many more to come.

The End. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Next up is an apocalypse fic. We'll see when I get around to finishing it.