SquidgeWorld Archive

Tossing his kit in his trunk, he just starts walking away from the parking garage with no real destination in mind. He doesn't want to return to his empty, stifling apartment at this moment, not after the shift he just had. Because this morning, yeah...

It sucked.

He's not incompetent. He knows this, Warrick knows this. Five years in the lab, and he doesn't want to mess up his chances of getting out in the field. He's just having a shitty week, but it's not like he can explain that to his coworkers. Well, Nick already knows because Nick's the damn problem.

One foot in front of the other, and he's staring at the sidewalk, focusing on cracks and litter instead of his thoughts. He doesn't want to think right now.

He ends up in front of a chain bookstore, letting the crowds of tourists and locals shove around him. Air conditioned inside and he beelines for the science section. There probably isn't anything new since he checked earlier in the week, but the whole process of scanning the shelves and touching the spines of the books helps him calm down.

He should go home and try to get some sleep. He's been pulling doubles for the past month now, and his sleep schedule is seriously messed up. But he's twitchy and wide awake. If he went home now, he'd just stare at his ceiling for the next six hours.

The earth science section is sparsely populated, but a book on weather catches his eye. A quick thumb through and it's mostly high school meteorology, so he puts it back. The image of Nick's expression on the canyon drowning case rises unbidden in his mind, and he shies away from the science area, heading towards the sociology and psychology shelves.

This restlessness is eating at him. Has been for a long time. And now with Nick being all, "This promotion is important to me, Greggo. I can't do anything to jeopardize my career..."

Yeah. Put Greg in his place right there.

He tells himself he shouldn't be mad. Nick's worked hard to get where he is, and an office romance could seriously mess things up. It doesn't necessarily have to; Greg's sure they could find some way to work things out. But.

Nick doesn't want to try. Doesn't want to leave his safe little closet. And Greg could fight him on it, he could. He could also try to keep up the charade of Just Friends. They've only been seeing each other off and on; Nick's never even spent the entire night. Coffee, movies. A quick bite after work. Nothing that couldn't be explained as two coworkers hanging out in their off hours. Nick would probably come up with some team-building, interpersonal-skills-sharpening excuse if asked. He's already told everyone quite vehemently that he and Greg just work together.

He'll definitely never tell anyone that they've curled up on Nick's couch together and played video games and laughed and fucked with the Discovery Channel on in the background.

And Greg would never ask him to, but he doesn't think Nick realizes that. If anything, Greg just wants his best friend back.

He tells himself it's nothing like love.

And that sits heavy in his chest. Presses down on him. So he leaves the psychology section with the paperback copy of a book he already has in hard cover, and heads to the registers.

Suddenly, being around people just really sucks.

~*~

He ends up going home after the book store, and knows better at the end of his next shift. His sheets still smell like Nick, but there's a twenty-four hour coffee shop he used to haunt, back when he had a life- Okay, well, not really a life. But he did have a lot of free time back then and now he does again.

So he changes from his work clothes and at least he won't feel guilty for flirting again. It's his natural state of socializing. He tells himself that's a plus. No one in their right mind wants a relationship in Vegas- Not when there's so many possibilities and beautiful people around.

So maybe he does miss having someone to share things with. But he has friends, once they get over the fact that he kind of blew them off to hang with Nick. Well, they're more like people he goes clubbing with, and he hasn't been in the mood to do that for a while now.

He labels himself a maladjusted, anti-social book worm, and calls it a night. Or morning. Whatever.

The blonde at the register totally checks him out when she rings up his order, and it may be little, but it helps. The lattes here are as good as he remembers, and he smiles at the dark-haired guy manning the machine behind the counter. He finds a secluded corner, cracking open his new paperback on neuroplasticity, and settles in. People mill around him, chatting or going to work or getting on the computers. It's a nice background hum.

The guy from the counter starts wiping down the table in front of Greg, and he can't help noticing the way his muscles move under the white wife-beater. He keeps watching surreptitiously over the top of his book, slouching further in his armchair when the man bends over to pick up a fallen advertisement. He's not bad-looking, in a scruffy kind of way, Greg decides. Kind of skinny, but wiry, and he looks like he could handle a board.

Definitely not tall, dark and Texan, so Greg has no problems enjoying the view. He gets caught, though, when the guy starts straightening the chairs and just happens to look up. A startled expression crosses the other man's face, like he's surprised Greg is interested, but when Greg gives him a charming grin, the man responds with a self-conscious smile and Greg's heart skips a beat.

But then the guy goes back to cleaning, and Greg reminds himself that he's in no mood to cruise. So he returns to his book, a little bit happier, and even winks at the guy when he leaves.

~*~

Greg is a creature with few habits, but those that he does have, he follows religiously. He hates to admit it, but it's true. A lot of his crankiness comes from having his habits disturbed. He can go with the flow, in fact he's pretty laid back, but he needs his expensive coffee and neatly labeled collections and at least a little bit of predictability in his day (like knowing when he'd be out in the field and not back in the lab because someone called out and they were short-staffed).

So stopping at the coffee house becomes part of his daily work routine. Half the time he gets decaf, but the atmosphere is relaxed and he can catch up on his reading. He finds he isn't sleeping as much these days, anyway.

Belinda, the blonde at the register, is still friendly, but her fitness trainer boyfriend picks her up everyday after her shift, so she and Greg fall into exchanging pleasantries and celebrity gossip instead of flirty smiles. Not that he doesn't still flirt, but Trey could probably bend him in extremely unpleasant ways, so he's careful to keep it harmless.

But his new coffee hook-up *has* informed him that the cute guy behind the counter is named Pete. Greg's started sitting at the counter stools to talk to her, so he overhears when a couple of Pete's classmates come in to say hi. Apparently, Pete is taking courses at the local community college, including English. This in no way influences Greg's choice of reading material. Not at all.

"That's a good one," Pete says as he wipes down the counter, nodding at the copy of Titus Andronicus in Greg's hand.

"I thought so," he replies with a smile that Pete returns. Belinda smirks at him over Pete's shoulder.

"I had to read it for my Intro Lit class earlier this semester." The younger man tilts his head. "Probably wouldn't have read it otherwise. But I liked it."

"Some critics say it's Shakespeare's roughest play." Greg casually sips from his mug, noting with satisfaction how Pete's eyes drift to his hand. Definite interest.

"I don't know..." Pete gives a self-deprecating grin. "Seems to me it's the easiest of his plays to follow."

"And therein lies the problem for most scholars, I'm sure."

Pete shrugs. "If you understand, things are just as they are; if you do not understand, things are just as they are."

Greg gives him a sly smile. "Lemme guess- Zen?"

"Yeah." A grin plays across Pete's mouth. "How'd you know?"

"Reminds me of my boss."

They share an awkward laugh, Greg fiddling with his book while Pete scrubs at a spot on the counter. Belinda calling out an order spares them any more weird moments, and Greg notices the time with a start. He waves at Belinda as he leaves, then includes Pete when he catches his eye, and the gesture is quickly returned.

It's good to know that he can still just chill with other people outside of a crime lab. He may be odd by most people's standards, but it's nice to have a little bit of normalcy. A place where he doesn't have to watch what pronouns he uses.

After his next shift, he sits in the same chair as earlier and Pete scrubs at the same spot while they talk about college and looking like slackers and a dozen other inane topics. Pete mentions his interest in buddhism, and Greg talks about surfing.

The attraction is there, yeah, but there's no major pressure to hook up. It's nothing but a friendship he's chosen, going wherever he feels like taking it.

~*~

Nick stops in the lab mid-shift, giving Greg a smile that makes his knees turn to jelly. He wants to resent the way his stomach rolls whenever Nick enters a room, but he can't.

"Hey, G. What's up?"

Before, he would have mentioned his latest video game, maybe invited Nick over. Now, the question just gets a noncommittal head shake and an easy grin.

"Not much." There's a plastic evidence bag in Nick's hand and he nods at it. "That for me?"

"Yeah, if you can do anything with it. It's been outside for a while."

Greg accepts the bagged knife and holds it up. "I'm sure I can get something."

"Of course you can, man." Nick's confidence in him is still warming, and he meets the other man's gaze without thinking. A childish part of him wants to yell at Nick about exactly how unfair it is to expect him to just act like there's nothing there between them. Like nothing ever happened.

"Of course. I'm wonderful," he says with a leer and a tada wave of his hands, but his heart's not really into it.

Chuckling, Nick nods and turns to leave. Greg watches him go, and knows the moment the Texan decides to turn around again.

"You wanna get breakfast after this shift?" Asked with a pleasantly wary expression, like Nick's testing the boundaries between them.

An affirmative is on the tip of Greg's tongue. He's tempted because he misses his friend. Misses just hanging out. But the memory of bracing his foot on the back of Nick's sofa while the other man grunts above him makes his mouth go dry.

"Um, I think I'll pass." His tone is rueful, and he really wishes things were different. But he's not the one who drew those lines. He just has to live with them.

"Oh. All right." The nervous grin fades from Nick's face. "Some other time, then."

"Yeah. Some other time."

~*~

"Did you and Nick get in a fight?" Sara asks casually as she hands over her evidence. It takes Greg a moment to process the question, it's so unexpected.

"What?" He's startled to the point that he nearly fumbles the bag. "Why would you think that?"

"No reason. He's just been in a bad mood since we stopped in for our lunch break, that's all." Her expression is carefully neutral, nonchalant even as Greg quickly averts his eyes.

"Oh?" He tries not to sound interested at all. What does he care, anyway?

"Yeah. Oh." She rolls her eyes at him, and walks out the door. "Call me when that's ready."

He stares blindly at the bag for a moment before shaking it off and getting started.

He doesn't care. Not at all.

~*~

He takes a seat at the counter, waiting for Pete to finish speaking with a giggling group of college girls. Apparently, they're *very* interested in every ingredient in each drink. Belinda's running the espresso machine, so there's really no one to talk to over the noise, but she gives Greg a smile and nods at Pete, rolling her eyes.

"Hey," Pete says when he's free. "Thought you were working a double tonight?"

"I did. Ended up going in earlier than planned, though." Greg offers a rueful grin that Pete echoes.

"Sounds rough."

"Eh," Greg shrugs, "If it gets me where I want to be..."

"So I guess you won't be up to the show?" Pete's tone is teasing, and a little fond, as he raises an eyebrow at him. Greg wants to kick himself.

"Oh man, I completely forgot that was tonight." He lets his head rest on the counter. "Things have been so crazy with that double..."

"It's fine," Pete shrugs, leaning on his elbows near Greg's head. "We can always catch another one. You're no fun when you're wiped out, anyway."

At that, Greg looks up with a frown. "Thanks."

Pete smirks. "Just telling it like it is."

"What about Ozzfest?" Belinda asks after serving the group of gigglers. "Trey threatened to have a terrible gym accident the day before if I make him go again, so I have an extra ticket. It's on the 20th."

Greg quickly thinks over his schedule, and he has the day off. Never mind that he originally requested that day off for an entirely different, tall-dark-and-Texan reason, he wasn't going to mope around by himself. He wasn't. Plus, Ozzfest tickets had sold out, like, four minutes after they went on sale and he hasn't seen actual daylight in forever...

"If Trey doesn't mind, then sure. I can pay you back."

She waves him off, "Don't worry about that. I won `em in a card game."

Greg just nods, half-listening, because Pete is smiling at him. Not a huge smile with freakishly white teeth. Just a small one, simple and pleased.

He grins into his mug and wonders what he should wear. Maybe some vinyl, or leather...

~*~

Greg's skin is stinging in multiple places, but he can't wipe the crazed smirk off his face. He hadn't gone paintballing in *forever* and dude, he so *owned* that field. Pete rolls his eyes when another evil cackle escapes.

"You won by two points," the shorter man sighs as they enter the elevator in his apartment building. "Two points."

"You're just mad that I won."

"You cheated."

"I was using strategies."

"Cheated."

"Jealous."

"I think you made that kid cry."

"Heh. Yeah."

Greg's been to Pete's apartment once before, when the two of them and Pete's roommates went out drinking the one time. It's a typical college bachelor pad, even if Pete keeps his room sparsely furnished and neat. This time, though, there's an odd smell when they open the door. Almost like burnt plastic. They exchange confused looks as Greg walks in first.

"Hey, man," Rick is on the floor, a mini-chemistry lab set up on the coffee table. Doug has his ski goggles and pink scrub gloves on. "Doug figured out how to make E."

"Right. Good for you," Greg says and turns right around.

Pete steps back to let him past, and pops his head into the room. Glancing at the wreck of the living room around him, he gives a strained smile. "Try to clean up later, guys. And don't set the couch on fire again."

He shuts the door on a chorus of farewells, and Greg tries to gauge his expression. Pete just regards him blandly and shrugs. "Where to?"

"How about my place?" Greg offers after a moment of hesitation.

The ride over is filled with comfortable silences and occasional comments on Pete's classes. Greg realizes he hasn't been home that often when he flips the light on for his apartment and swears that things scuttle for darkness.

He shares a look with Pete.

"X-box?"

"X-box."

There's a few take-out cartons stuck to the cushions, so they push the coffee table out of the way and sit on the floor in front of the couch, popping in Gran Turismo 3.

"Aw, no no! You're gonna crash! Go left! Left!"

Greg's helpful hints are punctuated with rough shakes to Pete's shoulders, and the other man can't help laughing hysterically as his car goes up in flames.

"With friends like you, man..."

Greg just laughs maniacally and accepts the controller. Their hands touch, but neither one pulls away, and the awareness between them is even more obvious. Studying Pete's _expression, Greg gently takes the controller and leans back, looking at the screen.

"You're not over him," Pete says suddenly. His tone is soft. Not accusing, just- an invitation.

At first Greg doesn't respond. He's told Pete the shortened Nick story, but he doesn't want to think about Nick, about disappointments and guilt and shame. Because he has nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel guilty for. He was the one dumped.

"What makes you say that?" He finally answers, hoping to put Pete on the defensive. It never works.

"It's obvious you miss him. You get this look." Pete offers him a crooked grin, then nods at the coffee table. "Plus, you don't strike me as a Kenny Chesney fan."

Glancing at the CD case in question, Greg tries for nonchalant. "He's not *terrible*..."

"Right. I forgot. Because your tastes are *eclectic.*" Pete's teasing him and Greg pauses the game when his car crashes.

"Have you ever done something that you knew someone you care about wouldn't like, but you did it anyway? Something that you did because you couldn't live the way they wanted you to?"

"Yeah," Pete says quietly when it's obvious Greg won't continue. Greg looks at him in surpise. "It's hard when you believe in something that the people important to you don't. You don't want to lose them, but if you don't speak up- if you don't do what you thought was right- You lose yourself instead."

"Yeah."

"It takes a great deal of courage to be honest with yourself. Sometimes people don't understand. The only thing you can do is give them time."

"I'm not sure if there's any left."

"That's your choice."

Greg stares at his hands. Yeah, it *is.*

~*~

"Hey," Nick gets his attention while they're sorting through a suspect's trash in the evidence room. "You got any plans for after shift?"

Greg's tired, his feet are bruised lumps of flesh, and he really just wants to collapse into his nice comfy bed, but he replies anyway, "Not really. Why?"

"I rented The Longest Yard. Thought you might wanna watch it with me?"

"I don't know, man. I'm kinda beat..."

"Aw, c'mon, G. You love Adam Sandler and Chris Rock." There's that guarded hopefulness again, like Nick wants him to say that everything's forgiven.

I can't do this, he doesn't say. Why are you doing this, he doesn't ask. Because he's afraid of the answer, but it doesn't stop him from offering a subdued grin.

"All right."

Which is how he ends up sprawled on one side of Nick's couch, laughing at the movie until Nick comes back from getting them water and he catches a glimpse of the other man's face. Nick's *happy* that Greg came over, happy to chill with him. Like maybe he misses this as much as Greg has.

He looks over at Nick in the light from the TV, and the thought strikes him, that he *knows* Nick. Knows him better than most people, if not better than everyone. And he knows that's why this hurts so bad, to be sitting next to him and having to act like they're just two buddies hanging out.

Greg's relaxed mood evaporates, leaving an aching awkward feeling in his chest. No matter how many times he tells himself that he just isn't meant to be with Nick, *can't* be with him, his heart won't listen and it sucks. It really, really sucks.

Nick isn't watching the movie anymore, either. He meets Greg's gaze solemnly, like maybe he's feeling it too. Greg breaks eye contact first and stands up, placing his water on the coffee table.

Nick stands with him. "Greg..."

"I should go." He doesn't look at Nick, instead he stares at the TV screen. He wants to rewind the past few hours and be in his crappy apartment alone.

"Please, Greg," Nick says, and he sounds just as miserable as Greg.

You did this to us, he doesn't say. This was your choice.

Then there's a hand closing around his, scorching hot fingers curling over his, humid skin sticking together. He closes his eyes, but he can feel Nick move closer, feel the heat from his body along his arm and side.

"Please," Nick whispers against his neck, his cheek, lips ghosting over his skin. "Stay."

For how long, he doesn't ask. How long...

He opens his eyes. Studies Nick's face, his steady gaze. Wonders if he can do this. Closes his eyes again and leans forwards. Wonders if what he wants and what he can have matters.

~*~

Next shift, he's singing in the lab as he rolls his chair back and forth between workstations. The place is pretty much empty, so he has his Marilyn Manson cranked up again, sans his face mask and other accoutrements this time, and once more fails to hear Grissom's approach.

The music cuts off abruptly and he whips his chair around, trying to look innocent. Grissom merely raises an eyebrow and Greg shrugs.

"I feel the need to share my good taste with the rest of the world."

"Right. Well, before you get back to doing that, why don't you check these swabs against the other samples in the Brunen case?" A paper bag is dangled in front of his face.

"Sure thing, boss." He only calls him that to watch Gris squirm. "I'll page you when they're ready."

"Great."

Grissom leaves, and that's when Greg notices Nick standing just outside the doorway, waiting. The other man doesn't look at Greg as Grissom walks out, doesn't offer any acknowledgment. Just turns on his heel and follows Grissom, discussing the case. Their case, and Nick didn't even come all the way into the lab. Greg wonders if Grissom will call him on it later.

He leaves the music off and starts running the tests.

~*~

"What's up?" Pete asks him, leaning on the counter. It's a light shift, so Belinda had the day off.

"The usual bureaucratic crap."

After a few minutes of scowling into his latte, Greg glances back up at Pete, who returns the look with skepticism.

"That's all, man. Really."

Pete nods and starts scrubbing at a coffee stain on the counter with bleach. The smell makes Greg's nose twitch and he fidgets, picking idly at the cardboard cup cozy before shrugging.

"Okay. So maybe that's not all." And he knows he looks guilty.

There's no visible reaction from Pete, he just keeps scrubbing, but then he clears his throat self-consciously and opens his mouth to speak.

Greg cuts him off.

"Please, no wise sayings. It's too early and way too late for words from the master."

Shrugging, Pete picks up an empty mug and wipes the counter underneath it. Apparently counter-cleaning is Pete's way of avoiding eye contact.

"This is a quick one."

"Fine."

Putting the mug in the sink, Pete looks out over the other patrons. "Twenty monks and a nun were studying under a certain Zen master. The nun was pretty, even with her shaved head and plain dress, and several of the monks fell secretly in love with her."

Greg swirls his coffee. "She's a nun, man. That's just wrong. Yet, oddly kinky."

Pete grins, finally looking at him, and starts to wash the mug, continuing. "So one of the monks wrote her a love letter, insisting she meet him privately. She didn't reply. The next day, after the master had given his lecture, she turned to the man who had written to her, in front of everyone. She said, `If you really love me so much, then come and embrace me now.'"

It's Greg's turn to wipe at the counter with his napkin, but he can't help looking up as the silence drags on. Twisting the water tap off, Pete puts the cup in the drying rack and regards Greg with a somber expression.

"If you love, love openly."

Greg's coffee is suddenly more interesting.

A customer is at the register, and Pete leaves him with a nod. Greg sits there for a few minutes longer, staring out the window. He grins at Pete when he finally heads for the door.

~*~

Nick hasn't come back into the lab since The Longest Yard. Greg's almost positive Sara suspects that something happened between them now. Her sympathetic looks at the crime scene weren't totally obvious, unless you were within fifty feet of her, and it doesn't help Greg's mood to think that he's being pitied by someone he respects, nor does it help that Nick can't stop oozing Southern charm around any women with a sob story and a need for a knight in shining armor.

He slams his locker shut and grabs his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he pushes open the door to the locker room. He just wants to head home and crawl into bed and forget about the world for the next six hours.

He doesn't expect to see Nick walking towards him down the hall. Doesn't expect the way Nick's face automatically relaxes into a grin when he catches sight of him. When the grin fades quickly, Greg ignores the confused look Nick gives him and turns left, heading towards the parking lot.

"Greg?"

He tries to keep the scowl off his face when he realizes Nick's following him, and picks up his pace.

"Look, Greg. G. Just- just let me explain things, all right?"

"Explain what? There's nothing to explain, Nick."

"Yeah, there is. You know there is."

He can't stand the earnestness in Nick's voice, or the tinge of desperation behind it, so he slows down. He knows that he'll give in to whatever Nick wants, but he can't help himself as he turns to look at the man beside him.

There are worry lines around Nick's mouth, and a furrow in his brow. His expression is serious as he asks, "Can we go somewhere and talk? Please?"

Pausing, Greg curses himself a fool, then he nods and gestures in the direction of the parking lot. The sun has already risen, and there are more people roaming the halls.

"Fine. Where do you want to meet?"

The relief in Nick's shoulders is palpable. "How about that park by your place?"

"All right."

They walk to their vehicles in silence. Nick glances at Greg and grins nervously as he gets in the cab of his truck, but Greg is too tired to smile back. He's too tired for a lot of things.

"So," Nick says as they fall into step once they park their cars. "You've looked worn out lately..."

"Working doubles does that." Greg watches the pre-schoolers on the jungle gym.

"Yeah. You've gotta be careful with that." Nick wipes his palms on his thighs. Takes a deep breath. "I didn't- I mean, I'm not-"

Greg looks skeptical, which makes Nick straighten defensively.

"I'm not avoiding you, G," he says with determination.

"Yes, you are." Greg purses his lips together. "I think Grissom's the only one who hasn't noticed, too."

Nick sighs. "I just haven't had any evidence to bring to you, okay? And with the scheduling changes--"

"I get it, Nick," he cuts in abruptly. "And I could care less about work, okay? A lack of evidence isn't what's kept you from calling me at home."

"Look, G, this promotion is important for my career-"

"I get that, all right! I'm not asking you to make out with me in the middle of a crime scene," he snaps. "You don't even have to talk to me at work. I just- Just-"

"Just what?" Nick's jaw is stubbornly set, those little veins popping out in his forehead, and sometimes Greg wants to punch him.

"Maybe I just want some part of our relationship to be uncomplicated. For once." He nearly shouts. "Maybe I want to feel like I'm *in* a relationship and not just a dirty little secret."

Nick blanches, and it's almost like Greg *did* punch him. With a sigh, he looks away.

"I'm not a romantic, man. I'm not into all the Hallmark Valentine's Day crap. I just want to be able to go out in public and not have to walk three feet away from you, just because someone might see us."

A frustrated, wounded noise escapes Nick's throat. "We can't *do* that, G. If someone from the department sees us, you'll be back in the lab and I'll be stuck where I am for the rest of my career. Technically, I'm your superior. Do you know how many regulations we're breaking?"

Shoulders hunched, Greg turns back toward his car. "I guess that's the only answer I'm going to get, then."

"Don't be like this, G-"

"I'm tired, Nick," he says, deflating. "I really am. And I can't deal with this anymore. Call me when you want something I can give."

Nick doesn't try to stop him again. He doesn't know if it's a relief or not.

~*~

Belinda sees him come in, only there's a line of people at the register, so Greg slumps at a counter stool. Pete's manning the espresso machine this shift, and he gives Greg an inquisitive look, but doesn't say anything.

Greg brought a book along. It sits unopened in front of him as he picks at the ratty edges of the cover.

A mug is set in front of him.

"Here," Pete says quickly. "Mocha latte, extra whip cream. On the
house."

Greg smiles. "Thanks."

He watches Pete hurry back to his other orders and licks at the whip cream. The drink will come out of Pete's employee allowance, but Greg can buy him dinner later to make up for it.

He owes him that much.