Title: Notes

Chapter 5

Author's Notes: Men are stubborn.

"Hey, player!" Warrick's voice booms.

Nick glances up from his casefile. "Huh?"

Warrick points at Nick's neck. "Nice little love mark you got there."

Nick closes his eyes, a blush settling in his cheeks. Oh, terrific. He was in such a hurry this morning, he forgot about the hicky Greg left. For a brief, fleeting moment, Nick considers telling Warrick that Greg is a biter, just to see the look on Warrick's face.

"So," Warrick says, punching Nick on the arm. "Nicky got someone special?"

"I thought so," Nick mutters.

Warrick gazes at him for a moment, and Nick realizes he's about two seconds away from an awkward, "Wanna talk about it, man?"

Hoping to cut the tension, mush, and discomfort off at the pass, Nick laughs, "No, man. No one special. Please. Who has time?"

Satisfied, and maybe a bit relieved, Warrick sits down across from Nick and says, "I hear you. At least you got little something. Me, I haven't had any action in…well, let's say a while. You know?"

"I heard that," Nick says. He leans back in his chair. Yeah, it's best to keep things neutral. He and Warrick have a pretty strong bond, but getting touchy feely with him isn't something Nick's hankering to do anytime soon.

In a few seconds, he and Warrick fall into a comfortable silence, and Nick resumes his vacant stare at the Harwicke casefile. He hasn't read a word of it since he sat down, though. He's been using the file as a convenient cover so he can brood without looking like a slacker.

Things with Greg last night went pretty much like Nick suspected they would. He and Greg managed to stumble from the living room to the bedroom, but their clothes didn't quite make the trip. Afterward, Greg fell asleep almost immediately, and thankfully, Nick soon followed. He has to admit. He slept pretty well.

Nick's been at work for about an hour now. He imagines that Greg's probably awake, or will be soon. Greg's a heavy sleeper, but only seems to need five or six hours to be bright and refreshed. He'd probably be up and would be roaming around, looking for something to eat. Before he left, Nick was seized with a sudden burst of thoughtfulness and decided to leave a couple of sandwiches for Greg. Already, Nick could feel himself being drawn back into the familiar pattern. He should know better by now.

But the pattern, however destructive, was almost comforting. Because as much as their erratic relationship hurt, Greg Sanders was the least of Nick's worries.

Greg stretches and rolls over to get a look at the clock. When the clock isn't in the spot it should be, he blinks hard. Where is he? Slowly, the events of last night pierce his memory, and he remembers he's at Nicky's. Yawning, he stretches himself across the bed and snatches Nick's wind-up alarm clock off the nightstand by Nick's side of the bed. Five o'clock. Cool. So now he just had to find something to occupy his time for the next few hours. Greg supposes he could go home…but home to what?

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Greg pulls himself into a standing position. He could shower, but he hates to shower so soon after getting up. Nah. He'll grab a shower right before his shift.

Stretching, he wanders into the bathroom to do his business. When he ambles over to the sink to wash his hands, he sees a note taped to the mirror:

G—

I left some food in the fridge. Your keys are on the coffee table. See you when I see you.

Nicky

Greg leans against the counter and gazes at the note. He kind of likes it when Nick gets all domestic and tries to take care of him. But at the same time, it scares the crap out of him. It's the little gestures like this that make this thing he has with Nick seems way too real.

Letting out a breath, Greg walks back into the bedroom. He stops and scoops up the tiny stuffed horse that's sitting on Nick's dresser—Greg named him Turk one drunken night. Smiling, Greg remembers when he got the horse for Nick. Nick was scheduled to go home to Texas for a long overdue vacation, but the lab was hit by a flu outbreak, and Grissom cajoled Nick into postponing the trip. Nick was pretty bummed out, so to make him feel better, Greg decided to take him to the cheesiest Western-themed restaurant he could find—waitresses wearing western shirts and cowboy hats; spurs and old photographs of surly looking outlaws decorating the wall; saddles sitting in the corner. Nicky loved the place. So, while Nick was checking out the jukebox, Greg snuck off and hit the gift shop. Nick protested of course, telling Greg that guys don't do stuffed animals. But Greg could tell how touched Nick was by the gift. It's a good memory.

Gently setting Turk back onto the dresser, Greg wanders around the bedroom, re-familiarizing himself with Nick's things. In the corner, Greg notices an overflowing basket of laundry.

"Great, Nick," Greg mutters to himself. "Nice housekeeping skills."

Leaning down, Greg drags the laundry basket over to bed, sits down, and starts to sort Nick's laundry. He figures he might as well make himself useful. Besides, if he isn't going to go home, he's going to need to wash his own clothes anyway.

"I don't know why Nick thinks I'm such a bad guy. I mean, look at me. I'm doing his laundry." Greg looks at Turk. "Do you think I'm a bad guy?" Greg gazes for a few moments at the silent, smiling toy. "See, you don't think I'm so terrible. I mean, maybe I was a little harsh when I broke it off. But I wasn't wrong. Nick and I don't make sense as a long-term thing." Greg reaches into the pockets of Nick's jeans and pulls out some change and a crumpled-up piece of notebook paper. "It wouldn't be good for our careers. You know?"

Greg starts to toss the paper into the trash, but stops himself. He'd better see if it's worth keeping before he chucks it. Nick would have a cow if Greg ditched something important.

Licking his lips, Greg scans the smudged words on the notebook paper. This is the end, Nick, Greg reads. I just can't do it anymore. This never should've happened in the first place. It's not fair to you, or to me.

Greg narrows his eyes at the black ink on the creased and torn paper. Great. Just great. Nick's copping an attitude with him about commitment, and he's having out having an affair or something. Not that Greg minds. Nick has a right to have a life. Still, though. Nick didn't seem to have anyone else on his mind last night.

Greg wondered who this person was. There was that guy at that club that one night. But Greg thought that was just a thing.

Letting out a breath, Greg crumples the note up, and tosses it on the nightstand. Maybe that's why Nick's had an attitude lately. Maybe he's transferring his anger with the guy who wrote him this "Dear Nick" letter onto Greg. That makes sense. If Nick's nursing a broken heart, it makes sense that he'd be snippy. Nicky always was easily hurt.

Maybe Greg should bring it up when he sees him tonight. Couldn't hurt to open a dialogue with the guy. On the other hand, Greg doesn't want to open a major can of worms with Nick, either. He wants things to get back to some semblance of normal between him and Nicky. Maybe veering off into the personal would be a bad idea.

Greg glances up at Turk. "What do think, big guy? What should I do?"

The stuffed horse doesn't seem to have any of the answers, though, so Greg exhales, and collapses back onto the bed, the mattress jiggling under his weight.