Title: Good Enough

Chapter 23

Warnings: Fluff alert!

I'm currently lying flat on my back in Greg's bed. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get comfortable. The pain in my ribs has evened out to a dull ache, but in some ways, that's almost worse that the pounding throb I had when I arrived here three days ago.

In a vain effort to get comfortable, I've pretty much managed to tear all the covers off the bed. And that's okay by me, because from where I'm lying, they look just fine on the ground.

Letting out a breath, I tilt my head to gaze at the clock. It's early morning, so unless Greg stopped off somewhere, he should be home soon. Last night was Greg's first night back at the lab since Grissom dumped me on his doorstep. Consequently, I've not only been lying here in pain. I've also been all alone and bored out of my mind.

The real kicker though, is that without Greg here to distract me, I've had plenty of time to think. I have to say, Greg's been just great since I spilled my guts to him the other day. He's been trying, however awkwardly, to be supportive and to not push me too hard.

But at the same time, Greg's also been keeping his distance physically. I mean, granted, I'm injured, so I don't expect him to jump me. But I have to wonder if he's using my bruised ribs and broken wrist as handy excuses not to touch me. One of my greatest fears with telling Greg about what happened to me was that he'd be repulsed by me. Now…I don't know. I don't know.

About then, I hear a tap on the bedroom door. "Knock-knock," a voice calls. The door cracks open slightly. "You decent?"

Sara.

I prop myself up and my elbows, wincing as I realize what a mess the room is right now. "Hey Sara. Come on in."

Sara pushes the door open and ambles over to the bed. "How you doing, Rocky?"

"Funny," I say. "How'd you get in?"

She holds up Greg's apartment key. "Greg went to the store. I told him I'd head on over and keep you company." She sits down on the bed. "So, everyone's been worried about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. In fact…" She hands me a stiff pink envelope and beams, "Everyone signed it."

"Ah," I say, plastering a smile all over my face. "The ever-popular office card." I tug it out of the envelope, flip it open, and grimace. "Oh look. Hodges says I should learn how to duck."

"He's just jealous," Sara says, grinning. Tucking one leg under her other, she glances around the room and asks, "So what'd you do? Kick Greg out of his bed?"

If I were the witty-comeback kind of guy, there are so many ways I could answer that. Instead, though, I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek.

"What's so funny?" Sara asks, a baffled look on her face.

"Nothing," I say. "Hey. How about helping the invalid out of bed? I want try sitting in the living room."

She narrows her eyes. "Are you supposed to get out of bed?"

"My ribs feel much better," I say.

"Nick," she says. "That didn't answer my question."

I hold out my hand. "Come on," I pout. "Pretty please?"

Letting out a breath, she snatches my hand. "All right," she relents. "But if you start to start to hurt, you let me know. Okay?"

"Okay," I say, nodding my head vigorously.

As Sara eases me out of bed, I say, "I'm really in pretty good shape."

"Sure you are," Sara says, placing her hand on the small of my back.

"No, really," I assure her. "My ribs ache, but mostly when I move around a lot, or try to lie in one place for too long."

"According to Grissom, you also have a couple of nasty cuts," she says. "Here, let's get you stationary." Helping me lower myself into a chair, she continues, "So, Catherine said she'd stop by tomorrow. And Warrick's working a double, so he said to tell you hello."

"A double?" I ask. "That sucks. 'Course, by the end of this week, I'll probably be jonesing for a triple."

As Sara grabs a pillow off the couch and places it gingerly behind my back, the front door swings open, and Greg stumbles in carrying several bags of groceries.

Sara hurries over and grabs a bag that's teetering precariously against Greg's side.

"Why thank you, Sara," Greg says dramatically. "I don't see Nick there jumping up to help."

"You're hysterical, G," I quip.

Grinning, Greg glances over his shoulder and winks.

After a few minutes of rustling paper bags, clanging cabinets, and soft laughter, Sara and Greg march back into the living room. Sara is carrying three cans of cola, while Greg is balancing three glasses full of ice and a bag of raw carrots.

"I see you didn't touch the sandwich I left you for lunch," Greg says. "I don't suppose you've taken a pain pill."

I smile guiltily. "The food was way too far away."

"Well, I put a frozen pizza in." He hands me the carrots. "This'll be enough so you can take the pill, though. Bedroom?"

I nod, and Greg disappears into the bedroom.

"So," Sara says, as she plunks down on the couch. "Greg tells me you're off a full week."

I lean my head back against the plush surface of my chair. "Yup. And you know, I'm already bored out of my skull."

"Poor Nicky," Greg says, as he breezes back into the living room. Pointing at the bedroom, he continues, "You know, I remade the bed while you were in the bathroom last night, and what do you do?"

"I was restless," I say.

"I know," Greg says, squeezing my shoulder. He flips the lid off my pain pills and places one into the palm of my hand. Then, he leans down, rips open the bag of carrots and deposits it onto my lap. "Eat," he says. "Those pills will make you sick to your stomach."

"Nag, nag, nag," I say.

Greg smirks. "What would you do if I wasn't here to nag you?"

Laughing softly, I glance around Greg at Sara, who's sitting on the couch watching Greg and me with interest. "I'm sure Cath or Sara would nag me," I say. "Right Sara?"

Sara grins. "You know it," she says, pulling herself off the couch. "Hey guys, I'm going to go check on the pizza.

"No," Greg says. "You're our guest. I'll take care of it."

Sara relents and lowers herself back onto the couch. She watches as Greg disappears into the kitchen, and then she turns to me and says, "He takes good care of you, Nick."

I smile. "Well, someone has to."

Sara gazes at the door that leads to the kitchen. "He doesn't do it because he has to."

Licking my lips, I nod. "He's a good friend."

Snatching my nearly-empty glass from the side table, Sara says, "You guzzled this right down. I'll get another one."

Sara doesn't wait for me to argue. She just blasts through the kitchen door like a woman on a mission. The expression on her face has me worried. It's the look she gets when she's on the trail of a suspect, and she's just found a smoking hot piece of evidence.

A few minutes later, Greg and Sara emerge with the pizza, some fresh cans of cola, and an armload of plates and napkins. As they amble toward me, Greg leans down and whispers something in Sara's ear. She chuckles softly and shoots him a scolding look.

Twisting my neck so I can glance over my shoulder at the pair, I say, "I thought you two ran off on me."

"Sara tried to persuade me," Greg says. "But you know what I did? I broke her heart."

The evening passes pretty quickly. Sara seems lighter than I've seen her in a while, and fortunately for me, she seems to have forgotten her morbid fear that I'm going to hurt myself. Greg seems pretty relaxed, too. I don't know if he's feeling better about what I told him, or if he's more at ease because we have Sara the Human Buffer here tonight.

A couple hours later, Sara finally gets up to leave. Leaning down, she gives me a little peck on the cheek. "I'll try to stop back," she says. Then, turning to Greg, she adds, "Greg. Thanks for dinner. This is the closet thing to a social life I've had in a while."

"No problem," he chuckles. "I'll walk you to the door, m'lady."

I watch as Greg and Sara stand in the doorway and whisper a conversation to each other. I've always hated it when people whisper in front of me. I always think they're talking about me. This time…well, I'm pretty sure they aren't talking about Grissom.

Finally, Sara backs out into the hallway, and Greg presses the door closed. After a few seconds, he turns to me and says, "I'll go make the bed. Uh…you think you want to wash up now, or wait a while?"

"I'll wait," I say.

Greg claps his hands together a little too enthusiastically. "Okay, so I guess I'll do the dishes."

"I thought you were going to make the bed."

Greg stares at me, his arms swinging at his sides. "Or I could go and do that."

"Something bugging you, Greg?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No, I'm just wired up. Way too much caffeine."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

As Greg bustles toward the bedroom, I say, "So, Sara knows, right?"

Greg turns and walks back to me. "Yeah," he says, letting out a breath. "Yeah. In fact, Nick, I think we might've made her night." Flashing a quick grin, he adds, "She, uh, thinks we make a cute couple. And I got explicit instructions not to hurt you, incidentally."

"That would be nice," I say.

Greg cocks his head at me. "You upset about something, Nick?"

I shift in my chair. "Nah," I say. "I'm just uncomfortable."

Greg gazes at me for a few seconds and then turns to walk into the bedroom. "We can get you back into bed in a little while, 'kay?"

"How about you?" I ask abruptly. "You uncomfortable?"

Turning back to face me, Greg says, "What are you talking about?"

I take in a deep breath, and then I slowly release it. "You uncomfortable around me now?"

Greg takes a few steps toward me. "Nick, I thought we kind of ironed that out."

With a groan, I sit up and lean forward. "How is that? What did we iron out?"

Greg glances around the room as if someone else might be lurking in the background. "I know what's been bothering you now."

"And?"

"And I understand you better now. I—"

I wave Greg over. "Come're. Come're and sit down." I move my legs over and pat the ottoman.

Slowly, Greg inches over to me and sits down.

"Now, I'm glad I told you what I told you. But…But I think we still have some things to talk about, and I think we should get it out there."

"Nick—"

I shake my head. "No way. You're the one who wanted to open that can of touchy feely."

"Huh?"

"You know what I mean," I bluster.

Slumping his shoulders, Greg says, "Okay, Nick. You have the floor."

I lick my lips. "All right," I say, shifting in my chair. "You haven't touched me since I told you what happened to me."

Greg moves his hand toward me, but stops just short of my arm. Curling his fingers into a fist, he says, "I don't want to hurt you."

"Are you turned off by me?" I ask.

"What?"

"Greggo, come on," I croak out. "Are you still attracted to me?"

"Are you kidding?" Greg runs his fingers through his hair. "You're a hottie. You're too sexy for that chair you're sitting in right now."

I swallow and lean forward. "All right. Then why haven't you touched me? You've been lying next to me in bed for two days, and you haven't touched me."

"You're injured."

"That's an excuse."

"Maybe," he admits, crossing his arms. "Look, Nicky. I'm just trying to give you some space. This is new territory for me. I'm not…not sure what you need from me."

"I need you to touch me," I say.

Greg gazes at me for a moment, and then he glances away. "I don't want to push you."

"You not pushing me," I say. "I'm asking you to touch me. Even hold my hand, man."

Biting his bottom lip, Greg reaches down and grasps my fingers. He gives them a squeeze, and then releases them. Slowly, he leans forward and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips. Pulling back slightly, he gazes at me for a few seconds, and then scoots his body closer to mine. Placing a gentle hand on each of my shoulders for support, Greg tilts his head forward and presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is gentle at first, but soon, it become crushing and frenzied. Threading the fingers of one hand through Greg's hair, I deepen the lip lock, all the while ignoring the screaming ache in my ribs. Encouraged, Greg moves even closer, snakes a hand under my t-shirt, and starts caressing my chest and abs. When he connects with a tender part of my ribs, I pull away with a jolt.

"Hang on, G," I groan. "Ribs."

Greg pulls back, flushed and breathless. "What?"

Through the pain, I try to flash a lop-sided grin. "My ribs, man. Pain. Ow. Y'know?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I wince. Smiling, I lick my lips and say, "I guess we're not doing that, though."

Greg chuckles softly. "I guess not." Placing another chaste kiss on my lips, he shifts to the arm of the chair and wraps one arm around my shoulders and growls, "But just you wait 'til you're healthy again, mister."