Title: The Medallion
Author: subobscura
See first chapter for full headers.
A/N: Well, after that little scene our boys pulled tonight, I just HAD to keep writing this story. Man, I don't know if the writers have loosened up or if TPTB have, but holy smokes, they were HOT and flirty. And that look, you know the one I'm talking about. Anyway, uh, yeah. This chapter inspired by Willie Nelson I guess. Slashy. Slashy, slashy, slashy. You no likey, you no readey.
Part 3- We Don't Run
Greg opened the door to his apartment, and leaned down to catch two streaks of black fur that had run at the first sound of his keys.
"I can't believe you live in a complex whose name is 'Snug Harbor,' G." Nick was grinning as he followed the young man into the foyer.
"Hugo and Bossy," Greg said as he held up first one cat, then the other, both of whom were squirming to escape and sniff the stranger. Nick nodded, and Greg rolled his eyes when he realized the other man hadn't caught the fashion reference. He sighed. Honestly, some people's children…"Bossy really is bitchy, so watch out. She uses her claws. And as for the name, you have a dirty mind." He shot a look at Nick, who just smirked at him.
"Okay, fine, so the thought had occurred to me, too. But it's not like everyone doesn't know I'm completely corrupted."
"No argument here, Greggo," said Nick, who was holding a loudly purring Hugo.
Greg narrowed his eyes at the cat. "Hussy," he said, but Hugo just blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Greg went straight to the kitchen, yelling at Nick, "What's your pleasure? I have Bud for domestic and Molsen, which is Canadian."
"Uh, Bud's fine," Nick said, staring around the condo. Without Greg's influence, it could have been boring, but Greg had made the place his own. Nick could see how the asymmetrical ceilings, wide windows, and interesting angles would appeal to Greg's aesthete. He had utilized the light and space, painting the walls a sky blue, and hanging his favorite album art. On one wall, Nick recognized several framed Andy Warhol reproductions. The sofa in the sunken living room was red and free standing, very modern in its curvature. There were two matching red chairs, and a clear acrylic coffee table as well. All in all, it was both exactly what he had expected and a total surprise, much like the man himself. It was clean, sophisticated, but also trendy, a space he knew Greg would be completely comfortable in.
Greg showed up at his side, proffering the promised beer in a tall glass with a short head of foam. "Like it," he asked, and there was a hint of worry in his eyes, like the Texan's opinion mattered to him.
"Yeah, G, actually I do. It's very you."
Greg grinned and flopped down on his sofa, sprawling in all directions while somehow managing not to spill his beer. "I am the master of my domain," he said cheekily. He patted the cushion next to him. "Come, sit, stay a while. You're making me nervous standing over there by the door." Nick complied, and when he sat down, he groaned at how comfortable it was.
"Man, what is this? It feels great."
"Microfiber, baby. Silky smooth." And was Greg flirting with him? Or was it just Greg being Greg? Nick sighed internally. Sometimes it was so hard to tell.
They sat for a while without saying anything, watching as Bossy tussled with one of Greg's shoelaces and sipping their beers. "Thanks for being so cool back at the diner." Greg's voice broke the sleepy hush. It was almost noon, the dead of night by their biological clocks, but they still had plenty of time to sleep before next shift. "For being so cool about everything. That's the first time I've told anyone in Vegas besides Grissom, and I really wasn't sure how it would go over."
"Grissom knows?" Nick was a little surprised, but he guessed it made sense.
"Yeah, I figured it was best to get things out in the open. He has an uncanny ability to find those things out anyway. He tends to not put me in charge of drug related things, and I pee in a cup for him every once in a while, but overall he's been extremely cool. Much more so than most other bosses would be I suspect."
"It's been a long time, G. You're a different man now, and it's obvious you regret what you did." Nick shrugged. "Your experience may even help you be a better CSI in some ways." He looked over at the other man, and then down, his brown eyes darkening. "Besides, I'm so screwed up, far be it from me to judge other people about anything they do."
This time, it was Greg's turn to put his hand on Nick's shoulder, rubbing in a comforting circle. He really didn't know how Nick had been struggling the past year, especially alone as he was, but it couldn't have been easy. "It's okay Nick. Everyone understands, and you've been doing so well." Nick looked up, and all of a sudden there was a fierce devotion in Greg's eyes. "I know I haven't been the best friend these past months, but I want you to know that ends today. Our team has been falling apart at the seams because we can't talk to each other anymore. If we lose our friendship, then a part of us dies, and Walter Gordon wins. It means a lot to me that you can accept me, no questions asked, and I want to be able to do the same for you."
"Thanks, G. That, that really means the world to me. You have no idea." Nick looked away, his jaw tightening. "Truth is, I've been running just as hard from y'all as you have from me. I don't know how to deal sometimes. Mostly it's just that people scare the hell out of me now, after Crane and Gordon." Nick was relieved to finally be talking, to find someone who genuinely wanted to listen. Greg sat back against the arm of the sofa, one leg tucked under him, waiting patiently. He sighed, frustrated. "I don't know what to feel. I mean, it could have just as easily been you or Warrick on that call that night. It wasn't personal, it had nothing to do with CSI 3 Nick Stokes, LVPD. But, it did happen, it happened to me, and there are days when I just don't know what to do with that."
Greg lifted one side of his mouth in a sad smile. "I don't know what to tell you, Nicky. We just have to muddle through as best we can sometimes. I'll be here any time you need to vent, though. I hope you know that."
"Yeah, I do. I haven't been able to see that until now. I was so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that I kind of lost sight of the fact that I don't have to do this alone."
"I understand," Greg said. And Nick could see that he really did. After the drugs and the lab explosion, Nick could imagine very well that there were many days where just existing had been a struggle for the man sitting next to him.
"We're a pair aren't we?" Nick asked. "Man, I bet the sheer expense of therapy bills between the two of us are enough to pay for a condo twice this size."
Greg rolled his eyes. "You have no idea, Nick," he said grinning. He turned serious again. "You know," he said, digging in his pocket. "This medallion was my gift from my sponsor on the 5th anniversary of me getting clean. I keep it around to remind me of the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I had it on me the whole time I was doing my CSI training, taking classes and pulling doubles every other day and still doing DNA. I also had it on me when I was going through that whole skin grafting process and I had to kick the opiates again to boot. I don't count that since there is no way I could have survived without pain medication, but that didn't make stopping any easier. As long as I could look at this, I realized that no matter how bad things got, I'd already made it through the worst part relatively unscathed." He held it in his palm, watched the bronze glow and wink in the noontime sunlight. The he handed it over to Nick.
"What," Nick asked.
"I want you to hang on to this for me for a while."
"G, I can't take that, it's too special to you."
"Then I suggest you don't lose it. Nick, you need this more than me right now. When things get bad, I want you to look at it and remember that you've got a friend who knows how bad it can get, and I also want you to remember that no matter what, things can always get better."
Nick slid the medallion from Greg's palm, the cool metal contrasting with the heat between their hands. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little husky. He looked at it a moment before sliding it with care into the pocket of his leather jacket lying on the arm of the sofa. Just then, Greg yawned loudly. He grinned, a little sheepish.
"Sorry, I don't mean to destroy the deepness but it is getting a little late."
"Oh, I should go then," said Nick.
Greg looked at his watch. "Are you kidding? 'Days of Our Lives is just about to start. Best part about working the nightshift? Great, late night television. C'mon, the t.v. is in the bedroom."
Nicked scoffed, but said, "G, are you sure? I don't want to put you out."
"Nah, it's no big deal. I can even find you something more comfortable to wear in case you crash."
Nick felt a little off-kilter. The day started off normally and now he was ending it in Greg Sanders' bed. He shrugged. There were worse things that could happen.
Later, they were relaxing into the down comforter on opposite sides of the bed. Nick was in a sleepy haze listening to Greg chatter on about Hope and Bo and Marlena and John and Kerry and Austin and Sammy. He had no idea who those people were or how they related to the plot or even if there was a plot. He was more entertained by Greg's enthusiasm anyway. Greg stretched, his t-shirt rucking up to reveal a pale expanse of taut abs, when Nick saw a glint of silver and a flash of blue.
"G, what do you have on your stomach there?" Nick realized his brain to mouth filter had gone on strike.
Greg flushed a little, but pulled up his t-shirt to show Nick two more of his well kept secrets.
"I didn't know you had a belly ring, Sanders." Indeed, there was a barbell pierced through the top part of Greg's navel, winking in the blue light from the t.v.
"Yeah, well, I don't go prancing around in the locker room shirtless all the time like some people," Greg countered.
"I do not prance," Nick protested.
Greg's sleepy eyes were heavy as he said, "Oh, you totally prance."
"Whatever, man. I don't know what you're talking about. What's that tattoo you've got there," he asked.
"Oh," Greg said, pausing a little, somewhat shy. He pulled his sweats lower to one side on his left hip to expose the picture inked there. The line of fur traveling downward from his navel was just barely visible in the half-light. Nick unconsciously licked his lips. "That's my Buddha," said Greg, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Nick moved close to him to get a good look, turning on his side.
"Why is he blue," asked Nick, reaching out to trace it lightly with one finger.
"Um," Greg said, and then cleared his throat. "It's a medicine Buddha. It's believed that even seeing him is beneficial and healing. I got him after my last skin graft. Kind of a cosmic F-U to fate." Nicked stared at the placid expression of the figure, the legs crossed in the lotus position, the hands holding some kind of plants. Somehow, despite the calm appearance of the figure, it still seemed fitting for Greg. The Buddha had that same half smile that Greg did, that same centeredness that was so attractive. His skin was hot and smooth under his fingers. On a whim, he pressed his palm over the whole tattoo.
He looked into Greg's eyes, which were large and dark and a little scared. His breathing was shallow and rapid.
"I think it's working," Nick said, his voice husky and low. He removed his hand, and bent to place a damp, open mouthed kiss over the same spot, before moving higher to do the same to Greg's belly ring. Greg shifted a little and let out a quiet moan. Then Nick lifted up and pulled Greg's shirt back down, smoothing it over his abs with a tender caress. He propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at the man lying below him. Despite the fear, there was also trust and curiosity in his gaze. Nick leaned down and brushed a kiss on Greg's lips, which were soft and warm and dry. He kissed him again with a little more pressure, and Greg opened and allowed him entry with a low rumble in his chest. They kissed lightly, exploring just a little with soft swipes of their tongues. Then Nick pulled back, brushing a hand through Greg's dirty blond hair. He lay down on his back and pulled the other man to him so that Greg had his head on Nick's chest, Nick's arm around his slim shoulders.
"Go to sleep, honey," Nick said, and he felt Greg nod against him. "We'll figure this all out tomorrow." They sank into each other, listening to the cats purr and the low drone of the television. For once, Greg didn't seem to have anything to say. For now, it was enough that they were together sharing breath in the heat of the afternoon.
A/N: This pairing is so easy and natural to write. I love it, writing this chapter gave me some of my own cosmic peace. ) So, I kid you not, Snug Harbor condos do exist right near UNLV. I watch too much Days of Our Lives. And the blue Buddha really is a great image to meditate on. More to come, and as always, feedback is lurve!