Rise of the Grasshopper – Part 2

By Ms. Maggs

"Take off your shoes," Greg instructed as he shut his front door.

"Why?" Nick glanced at the floor. "My boots aren't dirty and you don't have carpet anyway. Why do I have to take off my shoes?"

"At risk of stating the obvious…yoga requires bare feet."

"Right."

Greg chided his friend. "If you get that bent about being told to take off your shoes, it's not a surprise you have hypertension."

"What can I say, I'm from Texas, we're raised to die with our boots on." As Nick bent down, he said, "I really thought you had carpet."

"Dude, you haven't been here since the day you helped me move in last year. I pulled the carpet out six months ago and replaced it with wood."

"You put this floor down yourself?"

"My dad came out and helped me." Greg snickered, "Any excuse to get out from under my mother's thumb for a couple of days."

"And I see you replaced your yard sale furniture collection." Instead there was a sleek black leather couch with a large matching footstool, contemporary storage cabinets, and an enticing black leather chaise lounge. "Where'd you get all the nice stuff?"

"Where every good Nordic boy shops - IKEA. Except for the plasma, I got that at Best Buy and the plants I bought at this wholesale store that Mandy told me about."

Studying the mature furnishings and artsy décor, Nick commented, "This place really is a 180 from your frat-boy apartment."

"I know this will come as a complete surprise to you, but I haven't been a pink-haired punk in a quite while."

"Really?" Nick sweetly teased, "Rumor has it you went to a rave last month dressed in neon from head to toe."

"You mean when I went undercover to help nail a notorious drug dealer responsible for killing kids from here to Reno while you attended a panty-sniffing convention?" In a voice filled with pride, Greg confirmed, "Yeah, that was me."

"Please don't make me relieve that memory." Nick cast his boots and socks aside. "I don't know what was more horrifying, watching guys get off on that shit or having to pretend I'm into cheerleaders for Ray's benefit. Hell, that's why I went to A&M, no cheerleaders." Standing up, he asked, "How did you swing the expense for all this fancy redecorating?"

"Nana Olaf decided to give me some inheritance money while she was still alive. She was saving it for my wedding, but when she figured out that probably wasn't going to happen, she gave it to me and told me to use it for my first home." Greg grabbed his open, but untouched beer from the glass coffee table. "My mother of course is still planning my wedding."

Nick pointed at the Corona bottle. "You got anymore of those?"

"You want to drink beer and then do yoga for the first time?"

"Good point." Nick strolled toward the kitchen. "Booze will relax me much faster."

It was a really stupid idea, but Greg decided to do to Nick what Nick had done to him many times – let the student learn the hard way. "If you insist. Personally, I can't wait to see you do tree pose under the influence."

"Tree pose?" The silly name only increased the jock's reluctance. "If I have to dance around like a tree you better make it a double."

"Maker's Mark?"

"The good stuff." Nick could recall a time when All Greg had on hand was cheap wine and beer.

"I not only have a sophisticated apartment now, I have discerning palate." Grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, Greg asked, "What else did the doctor suggest besides yoga?" Because he knew the odds of Nick enjoying yoga were slim to none. "Is he prescribing medication?"

"Only if I can't get my numbers down in thirty days." Recalling the doctor's warning about erectile dysfunction, Nick shivered. "I definitely don't want to be on meds, so I'm gonna do everything on the list…lower my sodium and caffeine intake, eat healthier, get more sleep, and try to relax more…you know, like maybe have a little more downtime outside of work." Taking the glass his co-worker was offering, he said, "At some point, I don't know when, I turned into Grissom."

"But with better hair and a tighter…approach to paperwork." Greg laughed into his glass. "C'mon, if you were really Grissom, you'd be racing cockroaches and telling Catherine to peel herself off Vartann when she's at a crime scene."

"I'm happy for Cath," Nick announced upon polishing off his drink. "She was really hurtin' after 'Rick died."

"Thinking about what could have been."

"Yeah." Nick pursed his lips and nodded. "I think she regretted not goin' for it when the time was right the first time and then she passed up another chance when 'Rick split from Tina."

Greg lifted his glass. "That's why my motto is Carpe Diem."

"I guess that's what Wendy was thinkin' when she planted one on Hodges."

Greg rolled his eyes.

"Do you think they're sleeping together? It's against department policy if they are…not that I'm gonna rat them out."

"I prefer never to think of Hodges in the sack, and I'm really surprised to hear you enjoy it." While Greg reached for the whiskey bottle, Nick choked on his bourbon. "My guess is they haven't made it past first base yet." Filling their glasses, he added, "But it could just be my reluctance to visualize anything past first."

"No, you're probably right." Nick's mouth curved into gentle smile. "I think it's sweet that they're takin' it slow."

"Of course you do." Greg locked his eyes on Nick's. "You're a romantic who thinks the planets have to be perfectly aligned for love to happen."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not bad, just frustrating and limiting. Look at Catherine - she was waiting for things to feel perfect and they never did. So instead of having happiness, even short-lived happiness, she only has regret." While Nick listened intently, Greg waxed on, "Vartann doesn't strike me as the romantic type. He's a gruff cop who hasn't lived with a woman in over a decade. He probably doesn't even remember to put the toilet seat down. I'm sure it's not perfect and it probably won't last, but she's happy now and that's cool."

Confused by the ramble, Nick said, "So that's your theory on Wendy and Hodges too?"

"No, I think Wendy's been turned on by the "40 year old virgin" mystique, but once she gets him, she'll wake up from the trance and be horrified."

"I think you're wrong." Nick shook his head. "They have lots of things in common, like all that wacky space show crap. They're two peas in a pod."

"That combination never works, "Greg countered. "Opposites attract for a reason - you need to be different to be successful in the long haul. My grandparents and my parents are perfect examples. What about your parents? They're still together after decades. Are they alike or opposite?"

"Totally opposite."

"See. I'm right."

"Hold on, Dr. Phil." Nick polished off his second drink before asking. "You've never even had a serious relationship, outside of your pretend one with Sara, how can you expect me to believe you know anything about one?"

"When did you ever have a serious relationship, Tex?" Feeling relaxed, Greg chuckled, "And loving your mommy doesn't count."

Placing his empty drinking glass on the table, Nick changed the subject. "I'm ready to be a tree. Let's go."

"Sorry." After downing his second bourbon, the yoga expert moaned, "I'm going to need a few minutes before I can bend over." When he saw his buddy gaping at him, he clarified, "A yoga demonstration requires a lot of bending over. I need to let the bourbon settle or I'll hurl."

"Right." Nick stood. "Why don't you kill a little time showin' me the rest of the place."

Happy his pal was taking an interest in his home, Greg led the way down the hall. "You've seen everything but two bedrooms and two bathrooms…and the laundry room, but I didn't change anything in there." Stepping into the first room, he said, "I made this one into a den. I do all my research and writing in here as you probably surmised from the huge stacks of paper and books on Vegas history. The built-in book case is my favorite part." It took up one whole wall. "All my stuff fit and I still have room to grow my collection."

"I have my books in three different rooms." Nick ran his hand along the oak book shelves. "Maybe I should put something like this in my house when I have the cash."

"I'll give you the guy's name who built it and tell him to give you a good deal."

"Thanks."

"Check this out." Greg pointed to his box turtle's glass tank. "This is my roommate. Nick Stokes, meet Jimmy Dean."

"Why'd you name your turtle after a sausage?"

"I named him after the actor. It's supposed to be ironic, James Dean drove fast cars and turtles are slow…like you apparently."

"Sorry, I have meat on the brain today." When he saw Greg grin, he explained, "I went to In and Out, but their burgers have a ton of sodium and I couldn't have one. Instead I went to the deli and had a crappy low-sodium turkey sandwich. I'm still craving the burger."

"I believe you." Grinning, Greg led the way out of the room. "The guest bathroom is right over here." The tour guide stepped into the hall and opened the door. "Do you want to powder your nose before yoga?"

"Good idea." Nick hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. This room looks great too. When did Greg become cooler than me? Checking his reflection in the mirror he noticed two new wrinkles above his brow. "Dammit."

Standing in front of the toilet, he yanked down his zipper and sighed. Greg is cool and I'm turning 40 and have friggin' high blood pressure like my old man. Unbelievable.

He couldn't flush the toilet and get out of the claustrophobic bathroom with the giant wrinkle-revealing mirror fast enough. "Where are ya, G?"

"Bedroom!"

Nick followed his buddy's voice. "I like what you did with the…bathroom." He froze in the doorway when he heard erotic music and saw a dimly lit room. "What are you doing?" He was surprised to see one side of the large master bedroom was set up like a spa and the other had a huge plush bed and another plasma TV.

"You can't do restorative yoga in a bright room," The Zen Master answered as he dripped several drops of oil onto his diffuser.

"We're doin' it in your bedroom?"

Greg forced himself to ignore the string of naughty thoughts that popped into his mind. "Yeah, I specifically set aside this space for yoga. It's my holistic sanctuary."

Glancing around, Nick skeptically asked, "Do you really think all this holistic crap works?"

"Totally." Greg went off on a Zen rant. "This scent I just poured is Ylang Ylang. It's been proven to reduce tension and lower blood pressure. You should definitely get one of these diffusers from The Body Shop. Lavender is another great scent. It helps you sleep. It was the only thing that worked for me after the attack. See, the mind controls the body, if the mind isn't relaxed, your body won't be able to relax."

"Hey, what's your blood pressure?"

"Last time I had it checked I think it was about 100 over 70."

"Unbelievable." Nick shook his head. "You don't even work out."

"We'll see if you still think that after we do yoga."

Ready to give it a shot, Nick stepped into the bedroom.

"Do you have a t-shirt under that button down?"

"Yeah, I have a tank on. Why?"

"You need to wear comfortable clothes," Greg explained on his way to use the bathroom. "Lose your shirt and grab a pair of shorts from the top right drawer of my dresser. My clothes are in my bathroom." He had tossed his black yoga pants and organic cotton t-shirt on the floor when he was running late for work. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." When he was alone in the bedroom filled with exotic aromas and rhythms, he laughed. It was starting to feel a little like being in a soft core movie. A moment later when he opened the top left dresser drawer, he saw Greg's porn stash. "Whoa. This is definitely not soft core."

Greg burst out laughing when he returned and caught his guest red handed, "I said top right drawer, Snoop Dog."

"It's not like I expected to find it in here. Who keeps their porn this far from their bed?"

"I ran out of space in my naughty drawer." Greg hustled toward the door. "Feel free to browse while I grab your mat from the living room."

Perusing the risqué photos, Nick muttered, "I don't think this is gonna help lower my blood pressure." Instead he walked over to the nightstand drawer and took a peek. "Someone likes toys."

"What are you doing?" Greg glared at his guest.

"You told me to browse."

"The magazine.

"Oh."

"Get out of my drawers, Stokes." The phrase went against every fantasy he ever had about Nick.

"Sorry, it's a job habit." Nick stepped back and reopened the magazine to hide his smile. "Nice collection."

"See something in there you want to borrow?"

"Huh?" Nick kept a straight face and innocently showed the magazine page. "I was talkin' about this guy's car collection." He pointed to the naked model posing in front of three classic cars.

"You know I like cars." Greg taunted his guest, "Whatever you do, don't check out the guy on page forty-two." He laughed when he immediately heard pages turning.

After studying the picture, CSI Stokes' bullshit alarm sounded. "There's no way that's real."

"That's what I thought, but if you can tear your eyes away from the details and read the article, you'll see it's real. There are several descriptive testimonials from survivors."

Feeling a twinge of excitement, Nick decided to return the magazine to the drawer. "Let me grab those shorts so we can get started." He quickly turned his back to change out of his pants and shirt. "What kind of music is this?"

"It's just a yoga playlist I made. I can upload it onto your IPod if you like it." Greg fought to avert his gaze, but his eyes remained fixed on the backside of Nick's grey boxer briefs. Clearing his throat, he said, "So, um…I should probably give you some background yoga because it's way more than just body postures, which we can asana. It's about breathing, which is called pranayama. When you're doing the postures, you soothe your mind and lower your blood pressure by breathing properly."

"I should have known there'd be a wordy explanation if you were involved."

The sight of Nick Stokes tossing his jeans on the bed made Greg's already overactive imagination work overtime. It was a moment he had fantasized about many times, so to have it actually happen, even in the context of a yoga lesson, was shocking. "So…you um…you use your senses. Ergo, the aromatherapy and music, and of course you use your eyes." His voice crackled as Nick walked toward him wearing only a tight white tank shirt and a fitted navy gym shorts. "You can use your gaze to quiet the mind by focusing it on a single point, that's called drishti." Unless of course your gaze is focused on the object of your lusty fantasies, then you're screwed. "It's about learning how to stay in the present rather than dwelling on the past or, um, obsessing about stuff that will never happen anyway." Like us hooking up. "Dwelling and obsessing are what causes a lot of stress."

"Okay, yeah, I think I got it." Nick pretended to understand what had just been said. "Now show me how to be a dog and a tree and whatever else I need to know."

Feeling a bourbon buzz coming on, Greg shook his head. "Rule number one of yoga – don't attempt it immediately after doing shots, but here it goes."

Nick stood against the wall to observe.

"We'll start with Surya Namaskar, also known as Sun Salutation, a series of 12 postures done in a single flow." Greg stepped to the edge of his mat. "Mountain pose. Stand with your feet hip width apart and hands at heart center, or prayer position to a cowboy raised in the Bible Belt. Take two deep breaths and then hands up, arch behind, then bend over and put your head by your ankles."

Nick winced. "I'm supposed to do that in public with some strange guy behind me? I don't think so."

"Get to class early and nab a spot right in front of the back wall and preferably behind a hottie."

"That'll work."

"Inhale and step your right foot back. Exhale and step your left foot back into plank position." Turning his gaze toward his student, Greg smiled. "Push up position in jock language. Exhale and come down slowly."

"I'll at least be good at that part."

"I can't wait to see you try it. Inhale and stretch forward, bending at the waist into upward dog."

"That doesn't remind me of a dog." Nick studied the pose. "It's more like a seal."

"Exhale, push you hips back into downward dog." Holding the posture, Greg asked, "Now do you see it?"

When his buddy's baggy t-shirt slid and exposed previously nonexistent abdominal muscles, Nick got distracted. "What?"

"I look like a dog stretching after it wakes up from a nap."

"Right." Tearing his eyes off the shocking discovery, Nick vehemently nodded. "I totally see it now." He gulped. "I don't know why I didn't see it before." He couldn't figure out when his geeky hair-challenged sidekick had become a man.

"Inhale and rise up."

Grissom was married, Catherine was in a monogamous relationship, Hodges had a girlfriend, and the grasshopper was teaching his master. Disappointed in himself, Nick slid down the wall. Everyone has their act together and I'm turning forty, have high blood pressure, and haven't had sex in a year. It was all too much to bear. When did I become the lab loser?

"You okay?" Greg knelt down in front of his friend.

"This is impossible." Nick blurted while holding his head. "I'm thirty-nine…"

"So, I'm thirty-five. That's the beauty of yoga, you don't have to be twenty to be great at it, you can do it at any age. My Nana Olaf is seventy-five and she still does yoga."

"You're thirty-five?" Nick asked in a puzzled tone, "You're only four years younger than me? It always seemed like you were a lot younger."

"It was the outrageous hair and wardrobe." Greg laughed at himself. "Not to mention outlandishly immature behavior from time to time. Come on." Greg took Nick's hand and yanked him to his feet. "Enough observation. I think you just have to jump in and face your fear of yoga."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Greg huffed.

"Cause you're still holding my hand."

"Doh." Greg immediately released his grip and returned to the edge of his mat.

Nick assumed the same stance on his mat, which was parallel to Greg's.

"Deep breath in."

When Nick filled his lungs with the erotically scented air and opened his arms, his hand accidently brushed his buddy's ass. "Sorry."

"Not a problem." Watching his flummoxed friend quickly bend down to move his mat two feet behind him, Greg released a bourbon-enhanced laugh. No, really, it wasn't a problem for me. "Deep breath in." He struggled to focus.

Certain that he was now far enough behind not to touch his pal, Nick took a deep breath and followed along. "This isn't too bad." He had made it through the first seven poses with surprising ease…and then he noticed his geeky little buddy at some point had acquired a really hot ass.

"You okay back there?" Greg asked, unable to see exactly what Nick was doing.

"Yeah," Nick replied as he continued to gape. "Let's keep goin'…"

A/Ns:

I should have known that I couldn't fit it all into 2 parts, so I'm making it 3 : )

I think I'll need to up the rating for the next one.

Thanks for reading and for the comments on the last chapter,

Maggs