Dedication: This is for Sele, because I feel like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. That's all Jerry. And man am I jealous.

Swimming in the heavy water
Buried in the sand
Happy hearts fall from my stupid hands
I can't hide my sexual life
My sexual life-Everclear, "My Sexual Life"

When Hodges stumbled into his kitchen the following morning, he made a tactical error. Because he was wiping the sleep from his eyes, he hadn't noticed he padded right between Greg and his obvious path towards the coffee maker. While he was drinking the milk from the carton, he also missed Greg's glare of complete and utter hatred.

"You just…"

"Went in my bedroom, only to find drool on my most used pillow." Hodges narrowed his already half closed eyes.

"That is not drool!" Greg grabbed the coffee before Hodges could intervene. "I probably spit on it in my sleep to spite you! And you milk mustache looks ridiculous."

Hodges pulled up his shirt and wiped at his mouth, completely ignored Greg, whose eyes trailed over his stomach. "You didn't seem that spiteful when you grabbed my ass last night."

Coffee splattered on the floor as Greg tripped. Hodges added spilt coffee to the mess he needed to clean up. It was hard enough sleeping on his couch when Grissom had police taped a small portion of his living room. Now he had to maneuver around the hot beverage to clean up the attempted hit on his life.

Perfect.

"I hope that was a joke," Greg moaned. He looked pale, like he had the day before when Hodges answered the door.

"I don't joke before I have coffee. And now I'm going to have to lick it off of my floor."

It must have looked ridiculous, Hodges thought, these two men standing in a kitchen, one with gloriously mussed hair and striped boxers—and a completely stolen bath robe from Hodges bathroom—and the other in socks, boxers, and a sad white shirt. The coffee between them was like some mocking metaphor, like a little lake or something.

Greg appeared more or less befuddled beyond repair. "I grabbed your ass?"

"Maybe it was friendly pat on the butt between coworkers, but I'm sure there was some grab action."

"Was I at least suave about it?" Greg

Hodges allowed a small smile. "I couldn't have asked for a better come on."

Greg set the remaining coffee on the table, wishing he had a straw or something as he had no clue where Hodges kept the cups. "Wait, so it wasn't just a squeeze, it was a full on come on?" Greg asked pitifully.

"You had something on your ass," Hodges slurred, and added a wink.

Greg whistled. "That's one I save for someone special."

It was sad, how Hodges held out his arms in welcome, or a prayer for a lightning strike, and droned, "I guess that makes me the most special man on earth, because that wink was magical."

"I don't want to have this conversation," Greg said quickly. The pallor was gone, escalating to a pink haze in both cheeks. Hodges almost took pity on him.

"And I thought our relationship was going to be about sharing," Hodges murmured.

In a Batman-esque move, Greg whirled around, the borrowed bathroom swinging wildly like a cape, and stomped out of the kitchen.

"I'm not letting you off the hook for drooling on my pillow," Hodges called after him.

Once the bedroom door slammed, Hodges sighed. He wasn't in the mood for coffee at this point, because he was too tired to drink it. And it was on his floor, which seemed like some sort of encouragement.

Which maybe meant he really needed that coffee, but he went to his room instead to cajole Greg.

Only, when he opened the door, Greg was once more sound asleep in his bed, blankets pulled to his chin as if he'd never been awake at all. Hodges wondered if he had imagined the whole scene in the kitchen, but when he got closer, he could see that Greg's lips were fit in a pout, while the rest of his face was relaxed.

Also, those pouting lips were parted, a small wet spot forming on the pillow beneath them.

He thought seriously about waking Greg up, and honestly, the younger man had been awake two minutes ago, which was pure insanity. Hodges didn't understand how a simple lack of coffee could knock out Greg.

Considering a shower, Hodges sat on the foot of the bed to remove his socks.

The ball of his foot was a centimeter above the floor when he passed out.

---

Greg awoke to cold legs and a deliciously warm stomach. He still felt groggy, but more awake then he had been, if he had even been awake before. Only, the bandages on his hand were stained with drops of coffee.

The robe he'd taken from Hodges bathroom was big, red, and what seemed to be terry cloth. He could imagine Hodges in it, sitting behind a desk with a pipe, narrating some Sherlock Holmes story.

It was a really cute thought.

The blankets he'd previously covered himself with were pulled half off his body, which he figured to be from moving around. Only, when he actually opened his eyes to the dim lighting in the room, he saw a very clear lump under the blankets, which curved around the head that was on his stomach.

Hodges was blessed, obviously, because he was both silent and equipped with a dry mouth. With that thought, Greg took Hodges pillow and scrubbed at it with the robe before flipping it over. No harm, no foul.

Greg rested his head on the dry side of the pillow and watched Hodges. It was a rattling series of events—coming to Hodges place, cutting his hand, getting drugged, grabbing Hodges ass. He was sure the other man could tell by now he was crushing pretty hard. And really, why the hell?

He was strangely good-looking, in the way you would need to double check in a crowd to make sure you thought some guy was cute or not. Also, he had the attitudinal problem, but he was quick, and sharp, very easy to get used to, but somehow still surprising at times.

And it didn't feel out of place at all to watch this man, whom he saw every day and bantered with every chance he got, sleeping on his stomach.

In fact, it felt right.

Just as Greg was reaching out to touch Hodges face—he had to touch those lips—however, the phone rang.

Loudly.

Greg jumped, and evoked a moan from Hodges. Quickly, he located the phone and pulled it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Greg?"

Greg coughed. "Sara?"

On the other end, Sara could be heard clearing her throat. "Sorry, I was trying to call Hodges about his case, and you two are alphabetically together in my phone."

"No, uh, you got Hodges' house."

Silence reigned over the telephone.

"I cut my hand," he blurted.

"I don't—does Grissom know about this?"

"It was his idea. Ooh, I got stitches."

Greg's stomach became cold when Hodges lifted his head and said, "What the hell?"

"Uh, Sara, I have to—"

"You drooled on my pillow!"

Greg ignored the phone call to defend himself. "I did not! It's perfectly dry!"

Hodges shoved a baleful finger into Greg's face. "You flipped it over!"

"Look," Greg snapped, "I'm on the phone, so shut up."

Hodges wiggled, cocoon of blankets and all, until he was lying half on top of Greg. "Who is it? It's my phone, idiot."

"It's just Sara."

Sara's hum echoed in the receiver.

Two gropes proved successful enough for Hodges to yank the phone away from his bedmate and hold it in a death grip by his ear.

Greg was horrified.

"Hello? No, no. Yeah, he drools. No coffee yet, so come some other time. I already know who did it anyway. What do you mean, withholding information? I obtained the information roughly an hour ago. Spilt coffee. Of course I didn't cry; that's not even how the idiom goes. Well, call me back in another hour, when your evidence is done. We'll compare and contrast. Bye."

The phone was not so carefully slammed back down.

Hodges leveled a sleepy gaze at Greg, who silently returned it. And for no apparent reason, Hodges leaned forward and kissed Greg softly on the lips. It wasn't so much a kiss as it was two mouths pressed together, so Greg moved forward marginally to rectify the situation.

It worked stupendously. Hodges braced himself on one arm over Greg's chest, his other hand stroking Greg's hair, which seemed familiar, for some reason. His mouth moved again Hodges slowly, with that morning daze, and a hint of morning breath, but Greg always believed enough contact could get rid of the taste.

He stared into Hodges' eyes, which were half lidded, as he ran his tongue over Hodge's lips.

Hodges merely smiled goofily and ran his tongue down Greg's neck. Then he pulled back to yawn.

In a sort of stupor, Greg could only watch as Hodges huffed, plopped his head on Greg's chest, and drifted right back into sleep.

Only, before his breathing slowed, he murmured, "Now everyone's going to know we're sleeping together."

When Greg thought he was actually asleep, Hodges added, "And that you drool."

Greg himself was close to unconsciousness, but something was still nagging at him. "Wait, Hodges."

"No oral before coffee."

Greg choked back a moan, because really, where did that come from? "Actually, you said you knew who sent the death threat. So who was it?"

"Oh. My ex wife. Before, in the kitchen, I saw the calendar I keep on my fridge and realized I forgot to pay her alimony. It happens."

Greg could only manage slight incredulity as he drifted back into sleep, his fingers entwined with Hodges.

Of course, the whole lamination thing still boggled his mind, but he was content to wait until after several cups of coffee to dwell on it.

-El End-

Oh snap, I bet no one expected that kind of ending. It's fucking almost 1 am, and I was to read my pre-bedtime novel. Of course, now I can sleep to the lovely image of Hodges and Greg making out. Oh, yeah.

Shit, and sorry for this impromptu ending. College is for serious killing me, but I think I might live through it. I've been putting off finishing this for so long, now it can finally be done and I can work on several ideas stewing in my brain. This whole thing is unedited, because I just now wrote the whole part two in one sitting.

Sweet!

Review me, because if you don't, I will send a dart through your window.