Author's Note: Well, this is the second chapter out of three. I wasn't gonna post it, but a lot of people liked it, so what the heck, right? Thank you all for your wonderfully encouraging reviews. I'm flattered. :D Enjoy, and odn't forget to review!

Chapter Two: For Once

Greg woke up with a start, and he didn't know where he was. That happened to him a lot when he slept in a new place. It took him a minute to register exactly what was going on, and then yet another minute to figure out why he had his arm around Nick Stokes's waist.
The images of the previous night flitted through his head. Nick kissing him. Greg losing it completely, and then kissing him back. The two of them falling asleep in Nick's bed.

Too bad I didn't take his offer for a drink, Greg thought. I could have blamed it all on a drunken stupor. That excuse is out the window.

Greg looked over at the sleeping form next to him. He still had a bandage on his forehead. Greg had the sudden urge to bend over and kiss it, but he didn't. He tried to pull his arms away from Nick, but he couldn't. Either Nick was too heavy to pull his arm out from, or Greg had lost all of his heterosexual will. Or both.

"What the hell did I do?" Greg asked himself. Nick grumbled a little in his sleep, which made Greg smile. "What is my mother going to think?"

The thought made him cringe, and very slowly, he pulled his left arm out from under Nick's side. Nick made some sputtering noises and rolled over onto his back. Greg took his chance and got up from the bed quickly.

He looked down at his bare chest, surprised to find that he was still wearing jeans, complete with a belt. He didn't know those were comfortable to sleep in. You learn something new everyday.

He scanned the floor for his T-shirt and found it lying on a chair. He pulled it over his face, adjusting himself. He looked around the room for his socks, realized he was wearing them, and mentally reminded himself that he was a moron. Taking one last look at Nick lying on the bed breathing softly, he escaped out of the apartment.

Nick rolled over and was surprised to find an empty place next to him. Where'd Greg go? He remembered waking up in the middle of the night and seeing him there, sleeping with his arms around Nick. At first he thought he'd dreamed the whole night up in his over-imaginative head, but the bed beside him was definetly slept in.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his temples. Maybe he was in the living room? No, he'd definetly have the TV on if he was. The kitchen? No noise from there, no pans banging together or anything. Hmm.

Did he leave?

Nick didn't have any current evidence to prove that was what happened, but he knew it was true. Why the hell would he leave without saying a word? Well, he had been so shook up last night... Still, nothing made him stay the night. He could have just left. Greg had wanted to be there just as much as Nick had wanted him there. That little lab rat was going to be getting a piece of his mind today.

No, that'd just be stupid to have a lover's quarrel at work. They weren't even really lovers! They hadn't done anything, just kissed. And it wasn't that big of a deal. Except of course, that they were co-workers, and, oh yeah, they were both guys.

"What the hell was I thinking?" Nick muttered to himself, holding his heads between his legs. "It's Greg Sanders, for Christ's sake! He's like... a baby"

Suddenly, the phone rang. He leaned over and took it from his nightstand. "What?" he demanded, sounding harsher than he meant.

"Whoa, hey, Nicky, didn't mean to catch you on a bad day." Warrick. Nick sighed.

"Sorry. What is it?"

"Just checking up on you," Warrick answered. Nick could just see the confusion on his face.

"I don't need to be checked up on," Nick said.

"I know that, man, I'm just worried." Warrick laughed a little. "That probably didn't help either."

"Not really, no."

"Come on, Nick, I have a right to be a little worried."

Nick didn't respond. He didn't really have anything to say to that. It was too early to even think about it really.

"I'm also supposed to ask if you'll be coming in to work tonight," Warrick added. "For Grissom."

"Good to see he cares about my well-being."

Warrick sighed audibly. "He does, Nick, but you know Griss."

"Yeah. Whatever. I'll be in."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"If you're at work you will." And he hung up without another word.

Head back in his hands, he shut his eyes tight. I don't need this right now, Greg Sanders. I really don't.

Greg walked down the sidewalk. It was really early, but there were still a few people abroad. No one looked at him in his ordinary T-shirt and faded jeans and old sneakers. He wasn't even sure where he was headed. To his apartment, maybe? He should have gotten a taxi or something, but he just needed to walk. It was theraputic for him.

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he ignored everything around him except the sidewalk in front of him. He was deep in thought. The guys would laugh at that one, he said to himself. Me, thinking. Who would have imagined it?

Of course, he had quite a lot to think about.

As he thought about the previous night's event, all he could was shake his head. I kissed another guy. I freaking kissed another guy. What's my mother gonna think?

Why the hell do I keep thinking that?

He was confused about himself. Was he gay or straight? Or both? He was sad for Nick, guilty because he'd left him liking there, treating everything like a stupid one-night stand. He felt useless. He didn't stay with Nick when Nick needed him. He was a coward.

All of these confusing feelings just mixed inside his head, making him angry. He hated it when he couldn't understand himself. He was pretty primitive with emotions, as far as humans go, and it made him feel like an idiot when he couldn't decipher his own brain.

He passed by a bar that was just closing. A few scragglers were drifing out as the bartender cleared up. One of them, drunk as hell, ran into Greg as he passed by. The man obviously thought that Greg had been the cause of this and muttered under his breath, "Damn fag."

Greg, unfortunately, heard this, and before he knew what he was doing, he spun around and hit the man in the face.

The man stumbled and almost fell over. He clung to his jaw. He looked up at Greg menacingly. Greg's eyes were wide and he stood completely still, desperately wishing that he could sink into the ground.

The man took a drunken swing. Greg backed up a little, but it still clipped his shoulder pretty hard. The man lumbered forward and jumped on Greg. He struggled to get out from under him, but couldn't twist away. He kicked and punched and hit as hard as he could, but the man was a lot bigger than Greg.

Thankfully, some, less intoxicated people rushed over and pulled the guy off of him and helped him to his feet. They, whoever they were, had to hold the man back.

"Let me at the little fag!" he shouted, struggling.

Greg lunged forward, but was caught by another person. "Shut up! Shut up, you drunken bastard!"

A police officer ran over from across the street. He flashed his badge to everyone. "Hey, all right, nothing to see here, fun's over," he said. He turned to the drunk man. "You'd better get on out of here, sir, or I'll have to take you in. Just a warning for now."

The man stumbled off, helped along by some of his friends who had pulled him off of Greg. The officer turned to Greg now. "Are you all right, son?"

Greg was staring after the man. He gave a slow nod. "I'll be fine."

"You need a ride anywhere?"

"No, I'm fine," Greg muttered, unable to tear his eyes to look the officer in the face. "Really."

"All right, son, you watch yourself."

The officer walked away and Greg ran down the sidewalk. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. He crossed a street, two streets, three. Countless. The world was blurry. The world was wrong.

He stopped. Greg looked around himself, recognizing nothing except the sky above him, and even then it looked unfamiliar and foreign. The sun had risen half an hour or so ago. The clouds were visible, wispy, elongated. He searched for some familiar shape in them, but they were all alien to him.

What the hell had he done? He cared about Nick, he really did. Last night had proved that. But we he really... he couldn't even think it. Maybe he shouldn't have hit that guy for calling him a fag. He might very well be... one of those. But wouldn't he have known that all his life? Is that all it took to turn him gay, one kiss from one guy who he'd known for over a year? Is that all that he needed? He'd never felt this way, never looked at anyone like that before. Not a guy anyway. And even with Nick, it had only started last night. At least that's what he thought.

I'm kidding myself, Greg thought. I've always known. Inside, I've always known.

Greg looked down from the cloud he'd been staring at, at the streets and the lights People walked passed him, not even noticing the skinny little man with his hands in his pockets, with his spikey hair, with his forlorn smile. Because he was smiling. Smiling because for once, he knew who he was. And for once, he was going to stop hiding from it and do something about it. For once... he was going to be brave.

For once he was going to tell someone what he felt about them. And if that someone was another man... so be it.