Title: Losing Battle
Chapter 3
Author's Notes: This chapter is Nick's POV.
My parents once told me that a solid relationship takes constant and fearless effort. It's something you have to build and fortify, or it'll all come crumbling to the ground. When I was a teenager, I thought they were just being dramatic. But now, sitting across the kitchen table from the shaggy-haired love of my life, I'm starting to understand what they were talking about.
"Nick," Greg says, leaning forward. "I don't know how to fix this." The last couple of words come out as a kind of strangled
cry. He gazes at me for a moment, and then he slumps back in his chair with a thud.
Clearing my throat, I rub the sleep and lingering tears out my eyes. "I don't know either, man," I say. "Greg, look, I was an idiot. I admit that."
"Can we just not assign blame?" Greg says, letting out a breath. "I was wrong. You were wrong. So how do we make it right?"
I sit up straighter. "Well, we just have to work through some things, G."
"How, Nick?" He runs his fingers through his hair. "What do you need from me to make this work? I can't undo the shift split."
"G," I say. "The shift split is an inconvenience. It pisses me off, but it's there."
"It would be hell of a lot easier if we were on the same shift."
Shaking my head, I say, "Y'know, Greg, my parents worked crazy hours. Half the time, they'd go more than a day without sitting down for a meal together. But they were committed to making their relationship work, and they did it. They've been married longer than I've been alive." Closing my eyes, I let out a dry laugh. "Maybe that's the problem."
Greg raises his eyebrows. "What? That we're not married?"
"No," I say. Licking my lips, I struggle to find the right words. Finally, I continue, "Sometimes, I feel like we're just playing at this relationship."
"This isn't a game," Greg almost snaps. He looks as serious as I've ever seen him.
I nod. "Well, sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who's putting any effort into making it work."
"Nick," Greg says, shifting his chair. "I'm trying."
I snatch a pencil from the table and start flicking my thumb along the almost-worn-away eraser. "Then why do I feel like it's all me, Greg?" I ask. "Why am I the one who gets up and tries to have breakfast ready for you when you get home? And why am I the one who gets blown off because you want to go out with Sara?"
Greg throws his hands up. "Oh, so we're back to Sara now."
"No," I say. "We're back to what Sara represents. You chose to go out with her instead of coming home to me. That tells me that you weren't too worried about seeing me."
"Dammit, Nick," Greg says, shaking his head. "I had a commitment."
I slam the pencil down onto the table. "What about your commitment to me, G? Huh? To us?"
Squirming in his chair, Greg says, "Nicky, why is this an issue? Why is this one thing an issue?"
"Because we never see each other, and yet you made a conscious decision to spend time with someone you've had a crush on for years."
Greg looks away, but I can see a streak of red forming in his cheeks. "That's in the past," he whispers.
"Is it?"
I'm being juvenile about this. I know that. But I just need to know how Greg feels about Sara, or I'll always wonder. Always, in the back of my mind, I'll feel a tinge of jealously.
Greg is quiet for a moment, and then finally, he lets out a breath. "You want the truth?"
"I'd love the truth."
"I'm scared, Nicky," he says. "I'm scared out of my mind because I see everything we have slipping away. And I'm scared because I don't know what I'm doingout in the field." He clears his throat. "Sara's been a security blanket, I guess. I mean, the team just changed all of a sudden. And Grissom makes me so nervous, I'm always afraid I'll screw up around him. But Sara's my friend. She's like a sister, and with her, I feel more comfortable making a mess of things. And believe me. I make a mess of things. There's so much I don't know."
Well, now I feel like an insensitive jerk.
"Greggo," I say, reaching across the table to take his hand. "I'm sorry I'm not there to work with you."
"You kidding?" He smirks at me and then looks away again. "I'd be a nervous wreck around you. You remember the bus crash?"
I smile at the memory. "Well, you weren't trained yet."
Grinning, he says, "I felt like the freshman who was following around the star quarterback. You were so confident out there. If I hadn't been so nervous, I would've been turned on."
For the first time in days, I laugh. "Me? Confident? Greggo, you don't know the half of it."
We sit there for a moment in a comfortable silence. I can feel a shift in the air, and somehow I know we're starting to move out of the hole we've been in for the past few weeks.
After a few minutes, Greg squeezes my hand and let out a breath. "Nicky," he says. "I've been thinking about something for a while. Now, it's just an idea. Don't feel any pressure." He pauses for a moment and then says, "I want to move in with you. Permanently."
I sit back, a bit startled. It's not like I haven't thought about asking Greg to move in. Truthfully, I've almost-but-not-quite asked him twice. But for us to be sitting here, talking about it…wow. "You want to move in?" I say.
"Yeah," he says, pulling his hand away from mine. "I mean I practically live here anyway. Or I did before I stormed out on you."
Licking my lips, I say, "That's not going to fix everything, you know."
"I know that," he says. "Nick, that not why I want to move in. I was thinking about this before Ecklie split us up."
Despite my best efforts to hold them back, I can feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. Sometimes it's a pain in the ass not being able to control my emotions. "You sure about this, Greg? It's a big commitment. Right now, you can go back to your apartment if you get pissed off at me."
"You mean I can run away," he says. Folding his arms across his chest, Greg leans his body forward. "I meant what I said. Don't feel pressured, because it's just an idea. But Nicky, I don't want to 'come over' after work. I want to come home. To you."
Nodding, I pat my knee. "C'mere," I say. Slowly, Greg stands up, walks around the table, and straddles me so that he's sitting on my lap, facing me. Wrapping my arms around him, I plant a kiss on his lips. "We've never talked about this," I say. "It never seemed like it was the right time. Besides, you never said anything, so I wasn't sure if you wanted to move in."
Laying his head on my shoulder, he chuckles, "I was waiting for you to ask."
"Yeah?" I place a hand on each of his shoulders and lightly nuzzle his neck. "Move in with me," I say.
Greg lifts his head up and narrows his eyes at me. "I don't know, Nick. It's a little fast." When I shoot him my best glare, he grins, "If you insist."
I wrap my arms tightly around Greg's waist. "You're going to have to put in for a change of address at work. Everyone knows I have a one-bedroom. So, the cat will be out of the bag."
Greg bites his bottom lip. "He's got one paw out already."
"What?"
Wincing, he says, "I outed us to Sara."
I raise my eyebrows. "Really? And?"
Greg shrugs and starts playing with the collar of my t-shirt. "She's a little put off that we didn't tell her sooner, but all in all, she was pretty supportive."
Somehow, I knew Sara would be fine with it, but it's kind of nice to know for sure. "That's good," I say.
"There's more," he says. Laughing nervously, Greg slips his hand down the neck of my shirt and starts rubbing the skin between my shoulder blades. "I needed someone to talk to, and I wasn't thinking about Hank at the time and all. So, I told her about you kissing Becca."
Cocking my head at Greg, I nod slowly. "Sara thinks I'm a two-timer?"
"I set her straight," Greg says, nodding seriously. "You know, she was really great. After I told her how jealous you were of the time I was spending with her, she offered to come by and talk to you." He flashes me a grin.
"So," I say. "She knows we're together, that I kissed Becca, and that I'm insanely jealous of her. You've been a busy boy."
"You know me. Mr. Industry."
Biting back a grin, I ask, "Did you issue an office memo, too?"
"No," he says. "I thought about storming into Grissom's and asking for a couple of days off so I could spend them in bed with you, but I didn't."
"That's probably a good thing, Greg."
Kissing me on the forehead, he says, "Hand me the phone."
"Get up and get it."
"That would require me getting off your lap."
"Good point," I say, stretching my arm backward to snatch the cordless phone off the counter. I hand it to Greg. "Who you going to call?"
"What's your day off? Tonight or tomorrow?"
"Tonight."
Greg blows a kiss at me and punches in some numbers. "Hello," he say. "This is Greg Sanders. I need to leave a message for Gil Grissom. He is? Okay, put me through." Leaning forward, Greg licks my ear. "Grissom? What are you still doing there?" He nods and then makes a face. "Oh. I'm glad you had fun with the autopsy. Listen," he says. "I know this is short notice, but I really need tonight off. I have an emergency. No, everything's going to be fine." Greg rolls his eyes at the phone. After a few seconds, he smiles. "Thank you, Grissom. I mean it. And Grissom? I'm going to need another day off in a few weeks. But I'll give you some notice. Hmm?" He grins at me. "Because I'm moving."
