CSI: Nick/Greg fic

Title: Three Ways They Didn't Find Out (1/1)
Author: Steph
Pairings: Nick/Greg
Disclaimer: Grissom, Cath and their merry band of men belong to CBS, Bruckheimer Productions, et al. I claim no credit for them, and fanfic is pretty much a not-for-profit business.
Rating: PG
Length: 3, 039 words
Summary: Written for the threesome challenge at ngchallenge, as well as for one of my Greg Sanders fics for fanfic100. Three ways the other CSIs didn't find out about Nick and Greg. Though Greg may not be in this fic a lot, the whole thing is about him, so I think it applies.
Author's note: Thanks to storydivagirl for beta-ing the first two-thirds of this, and chickpea for the idea of drunken Greggo. Feedback is good in all its forms, except flames. AU and spoilers for parts of "Playing With Fire," spoilers for "Who Shot Sherlock?" and "Mea Culpa."

1. Because of Turmoil

Catherine stopped to talk to Brass on the way to the scene, and motioned for Nick and Warrick to go on ahead of her. Jim filled her in on the specifics of the case, most of which they knew from Grissom: two vics, roommates, both female, suspicious circs. He also pointed out the neighbor from across the street that seemed a little too interested in the investigation.

“Hold the neighbor and give me half an hour,” Catherine directed as she moved to catch up with Nick and Warrick.

“All I’m saying,” Nick was clarifying with a grin at Warrick’s disbelieving expression, “is that while you’re capable, your skills in no way compare to mine.”

“Care to put your money where your mouth is?” Warrick asked.

“You’re on,” Nick responded. “A c-note?”

“Fine.”

Catherine shook her head. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you two making bets while processing a scene.”

“Interpreting blood spatter,” Warrick responded. “Apparently Nick has some previously unknown talent in that area.”

“’Previously unknown’?” Nick parroted back, shock and humor evident in the twang of his voice. “Remember the man beaten to death in his kitchen? I called that it was a wrench as soon as I saw the pattern of blood on the sink and counter.”

“That’s right,” Warrick said with mock sincerity. “Remind me, did the killer end up being Miss Scarlet or Professor Plum that time?”

“Haha,” Nick replied as Catherine’s phone rang.

“Willows,” she answered. On the other end, Grissom spoke to her, his voice clipped and urgent. Catherine’s hand tightened on the phone and her eyes widened. She didn’t say a word, only listened to his summary of the events.

“Ok,” she responded when he finished giving directions, and snapped the phone shut.

She turned to face Nick and Warrick who already had their gloves on and their kits unpacked.

“Close it up guys,” she ordered. They both looked at her, confusion evident on their faces.

“Why?” Warrick asked.

“A few of the day crew are coming to take over. There’s been an explosion.”

“A bomb?” Nick questioned as he peeled off one glove and then the other. “Is it a building? Any casual…”

“It’s not a case, it’s the lab. There was an explosion in the lab. Most people got away with only some bruises and cuts from the shattered glass. Sara has a mild concussion, but Greg…he was in the room at the time, and Grissom says it’s bad…Nick!”

Catherine and Warrick followed Nick, already bounding down out the front door and down the stairs. They exchanged a baffled look as Warrick motioned for Catherine to go ahead of him. Brass stood at the bottom of the steps, but Nicky flew right past him in his rush to get to the car.

“Jim…” Catherine began, but Brass held up a hand to stop her.

“I heard. Get out of here. I’ll hold down the fort until the others show up.”

“Thank you,” she answered, sincerely grateful.

Catherine made her way to the SUV to find Nick pacing beside it, an impatient snarl on his face, and Warrick watching him with concerned eyes.

“You have the keys,” Warrick answered her silent question.

She unlocked the door, and they all jumped in. The drive to the hospital was fast and tense. Catherine pushed the speed limit as much as she could while driving a work vehicle. The only time someone spoke was when Warrick asked which hospital they’d taken Greg to.

Catherine kept glancing in the rearview mirror to watch Nicky. He looked miserable, his jaw muscles clenched and his face white with worry. Suddenly much of Nick and Greg’s recent behavior clicked into place. Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she tried to assimilate that new information.

She parked in the hospital lot almost ten minutes later, and Nick barely waited for the car to stop before he unlocked the door and hopped out.

Warrick and Catherine trailed behind him, walking side by side.

“Did you know?” he asked her.

“No idea. But now that I do, it explains a lot.”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded strained.

“You ok with this?” she asked, indicating Nick with her hand.

“I will be,” he assured her. “Just…Nick and Sanders? When did that happen? How did that happen?”

She shrugged. “How does it ever happen?”

They entered the hospital and approached the receptionist’s desk. The man at the desk directed them to the third floor, and they took the elevator up.

The waiting room was filled with haggard looking lab employees. Sara sat in a row with Archie, a bandage over his left eye, and Jacqui, who held an ice pack to the side of her head. Grissom stood before them talking with Nick.

“How is he?” Warrick asked as they crossed the room.

“Stable. He sustained second and third degree burns on his back. He’s passed out right now; they have him on a morphine drip.”

Catherine pressed a hand to her chest, and felt the anxiety from the ride over dissipate somewhat. “Thank god.”

A doctor walked out of Greg’s room at that moment, and Nick stepped in front of him to stop him from leaving.

“I want to see him.”

“I’m sorry, right now it’s family only. Maybe tomorrow when he’s feeling better.”

“His family’s in California,” Nick argued, his voice rising. Catherine reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s not ready to see…”

“I’m his partner,” Nick interrupted, and Catherine felt her own heart speed up at his courage to make that admission.

The doctor shook his head. “Again, I’m sorry, but…oh.” He stumbled when he caught on. “Oh, I see…Well, I still don’t…”

“Dr. Durham,” Grissom’s voice came from behind Catherine, low and forceful, the same one he used when interrogating a murder suspect. “I hope for your sake that you don’t intend to bar this man from seeing his partner.”

Catherine picked up the thread. “You wouldn’t want this hospital to be on the losing side of a nasty discrimination suit, would you?”

Durham coughed. “No, of course not. I suppose he can go in if wants. Since he’s close with the patient.” The doctor walked swiftly down the hall.

Nick turned around and looked so pathetically grateful that Catherine had to temper the urge to reach out and hug him.

“Thanks.”


2. Because of Miscommunication

Warrick and Sara stopped talking when Nick walked into the break room looking like he’d rolled out of bed and came straight to the lab. His shirt was slightly wrinkled and his eyes were tinged pink.

“What happened to you?” Warrick asked as Nick took the seat next to him.

“The damn alarm didn’t go off. Turns out I set it for nine A.M. instead of nine P.M.”

“The hazards of the graveyard shift,” Warrick intoned.

“That’s why I have three alarm clocks,” Sara said. “Just in case.”

Warrick exchanged an amused look with Nick at that admission as Nick pulled at the hem of his shirt, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Is that a hickey?” Sara asked suddenly.

Warrick followed Sara’s gaze to the dark red mark on the newly exposed skin of Nick’s collarbone.

“You didn’t oversleep,” Warrick realized with amusement. “You got laid!”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Sara questioned with a sly look. “Anyone we know?”

A blush spread across Nick’s face and down his neck. His obvious discomfort piqued Warrick’s attention.

“It has to be, look at him,” Warrick said to Sara, motioning to Nick with his hand. “Was it Judy in reception? Sophia?”

Nick held up his hands defensively. “Come on, guys. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Warrick snorted. “Picture that.”

“Hey man, just because you’re a dog…”

“Don’t think I don’t notice you changing the subject,” Warrick said. “So this is a secret.”

“Catherine?” Sara asked.

The horrified look on Nick’s face at the suggestion of sleeping with their former supervisor caused Warrick to chuckle. Of course rule-abiding Nicky would never even entertain the thought, despite Cath being a fine looking woman.

“No! Drop it, ok?”

“How long have you worked here?” Sara asked rhetorically. “This place thrives on gossip. No matter what you do, you’ll never keep it a secret.”

“You’d be surprised,” Nick responded.

Warrick raised his eyebrows at that. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve been with her? Last week when you didn’t answer your cell phone…?”

Nick’s deepening flush and guilty, shifty-eyed expression told Warrick all he needed to know.

“And I’m the dog? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, bro.”

“It’s complicated,” Nick muttered.

“How long?” Warrick asked.

“Four months,” he admitted.

Warrick blew out a low, impressed whistle. “I think that’s a lab record.”

“Law of Averages,” Sara said, shaking her head. “Your luck can’t last forever.”

Nick didn’t have time to respond, because Grissom and Catherine entered the room then, bickering in that old married couple way they had. Grissom nodded a greeting to Warrick, Sara and Nick. He looked down at the papers in his hands, and then looked back up with a frown.

“Where’s Greg?” he asked, sounding aggravated.

Warrick glanced around the room, noticing for the first time Sanders’s absence.

“Here he comes,” Catherine answered, gesturing down the hallway.

Greg rushed in at that moment; hair looking as if he’d made a hurried attempt to tame it into its usual ironed style and then gave up midway through the process.

“Hey, hey, sorry,” he gasped, stopping to swipe one of Sara’s Doritos before sitting between her and Cath.

“Late night?” Cath asked with a knowing look.

Greg shook his head. “Nothing that interesting. I accidentally set my alarm clock for nine A.M. instead of nine P.M.”

Silence answered him, disrupted only by Sara gasping and clapping a hand over her mouth. Warrick turned to gauge Nick’s reaction to Greg’s statement and saw his friend's face heat up redder than before, and his eyes widen with dawning horror and embarrassment.

“What?” Greg asked, pausing in the middle of skinning off his jacket. Warrick noticed he looked only at Nick when he spoke.

“Yes, what?” Grissom asked. He seemed impatient and annoyed at not understanding the joke.

“Law of Averages,” Sara repeated, voice muffled from behind her hand.

“Oh, man,” Nick breathed, shellshocked.

“Will someone explain this to me?” Catherine demanded.

Warrick spoke in measured tones. “It’s funny, but Nick had the same problem as Greg setting his alarm this afternoon.”

“That doesn’t explain the hickey though,” Sara added, a malicious gleam in her eye.

Catherine frowned in confusion a moment before the meaning of their words sunk in. Her mouth dropped open.

Warrick noted that instead of reddening like Nicky, all of the color drained slowly from Greg’s face as realization hit. “Nick didn’t set his clock wrong,” Greg replied at last, a touch of self-deprecating humor tingeing his voice. “One of his sisters was having trouble with her fiancée and called him to talk about it.”

The initial shock of their mistake must have worn off for Nick, because the corners of his mouth twitched at Greg’s words. “Right,” he agreed meekly. “That’s what happened.”

Grissom appeared bemused and vaguely uninterested in the conversation. Catherine pointed her finger back and forth between Greg and Nick. “Does that you mean you two are…”

“Four months,” Sara confirmed. That girl was having too much fun.

“Surprise,” Greg said with false brightness.

Another silence swept the room, until Warrick tipped back his head and laughed.


3. Because of Celebration

“You, my friend, need another beer,” Warrick declared. He pointed one long finger in Greg’s direction.

“An astute observation, Dr. Watson,” Greg responded in a fake British accent. “You know what? Make it lager this time.”

“Lager?” Sara asked.

“I’m being authentic, and this is my night. Bring me lager, or bring me death!”

“Patrick Henry was American,” Sara pointed out with a smirk. It was a rare thing for her to be the only sober one in a group. She found herself enjoying the experience.

“Yes, but he was talking about the British,” Greg clarified.

Sara snickered as Warrick bounded to the bar. After their shifts, she, Nick and Warrick promised to get Greg drunk in honor of his promotion. After nearly two hours, they’d more than succeeded on him, with Warrick and Nick not far behind. Sara sipped her Coke and watched as, in the booth on the other side of their table, Greg teased Nick about his fascination with the nature channel. Nick threw an arm around Greg’s shoulders and Greg grinned up at him, tipping to lean against Nick’s side. Sara’s eyebrows rose.

“Lager,” Warrick proclaimed. He placed three bottles of Miller Lite in the center of the table and slid back into his place beside Sara.

“That’s beer,” Greg argued, even as he took one for himself.

“In England they’d call it lager,” Warrick reasoned.

“In England we’d call this piss!” Greg cried, his fake accent making him sound like a drunken Eliza Doolittle.

“Whoa,” Nick replied. “Calm down there.”

Greg shrugged, losing his vehement expression. “I studied abroad in London for a semester during my undergrad. The only time I made the mistake of asking for an Ice House, I had to listen to a twenty-minute rant against American beer.”

Sara made a face. “Ice House?”

“I was a poor college student,” Greg explained.

Warrick turned to look at Sara and lifted his bottle in invitation. “Sure you don’t want one?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she lied smoothly. “I have plans for tomorrow morning.”

Warrick brought the bottle to his own lips instead, and Sara focused on the rest of the bar, seeing Catherine approach them from the other side of the room.

“Boss is here,” Sara said.

Warrick followed her gaze, while Nick and Greg swiveled in their seats to look.

“Cath!” Greg boomed, his voice carrying across the thinning crowd.

She grinned and made her way over to Greg. She placed her hand on his shoulder and gasped with mock-seriousness, “Why, CSI 1 Sanders, are you intoxicated?”

At the title, Greg gave a dopey grin and a small, satisfied sigh. “To the gills,” he assured Catherine. “I’d run a tox screen to prove it, but that’s not my job anymore.”

“Oh ho!” Nick crowed. “He’s been a CSI what…” He made a show of pulling up the sleeve of his black sweater to look at his watch, “four hours? And already he’s got an attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude, Nicky,” Greg replied. “I’m happy, that’s all. Catherine, pull up a chair. Sit! Warrick will buy you a bottle of the same lager Patrick Henry drank during the Battle of Bunker Hill.”

“What…?” Catherine began to ask, but Greg waved away her question.

“It made sense in my mind.” Beside him, Nick ducked his head to hide his smile. Greg continued, “I’m just happy. I love everyone right now. I love Warrick for providing me with lager; I love Catherine for buying that champagne at work today.” He reached across the table and grasped the hand Sara held her drink with, gently gripping her wrist. “And I love you, Sara. I really, really love you, you know?”

Sara felt a smile tip up the edges of her mouth. Mentally planning ways to mock him the next day for that display, she nodded, placating him.

“Because, I do,” he insisted. “I love you for helping me on this case, and for defending me to the other lab techs. And I love Warrick and Catherine.” He leaned back, removing his hand from Sara’s. “I love all three of you, but not as much as I love Nicky.”

Again, Sara’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“You’re so wasted, G,” Nick responded with an amused grin.

“No kidding,” Warrick agreed. “Man, you’re gonna feel this tomorrow. Lucky Grissom gave you the day off.”

“I love Grissom too,” Greg commented, and Sara choked on her sip of Coke. Greg seemed to contemplate something for a moment, and then said, “I have to use the little boys’ room.”

“Go for it,” Catherine invited.

Greg scooted out of the booth and headed towards the bathrooms. Sara made small talk with Nick, Warrick and Catherine for ten minutes before Catherine wondered about Greg’s whereabouts.

“I’ll find him,” Nick said with a roll of his eyes. “He probably got lost.”

Five minutes after that, Warrick shook his head and asked, “What are the chances that Nicky’s not holding Greg’s hair back right now?”

Catherine and Sara laughed, and Warrick stood. “I’ll see if I have to drive Sanders home.”

“I’ll do it,” Sara volunteered, getting to her feet. “I have to use the bathroom anyway.”

“The men’s room?” Warrick questioned.

She scanned the patrons around them. “Why, you think anyone here would kick me out?”

“Point,” Warrick admitted.

“Be right back,” Sara promised.

She maneuvered through the small crowd of people making their way to the bar for last call. The washrooms were in the far right corner, and it took longer than she expected to reach them. Walking up to the men’s room, Sara stuck her head cautiously inside the door.

About to call for Nick, she froze, mind racing to understand the image in front of her. Greg’s back pressed against the wall, his arms around Nick’s waist. Nick stood in front of him with his hands on Greg’s shoulders. Their mouths met in a fast, deep kiss that had both men gasping, panting with faces close together.

“I did it,” Greg said in between kisses.

“You did it,” Nick agreed, one hand moving to tangle in Greg’s disheveled hair.

“God, Nicky, I’m so happy.”

“I know, baby,” Nick murmured against Greg’s lips. When their kissing resumed, Sara closed the door as quietly as she could.

Pressing her back to the wall, she connected what she’d witnessed to the touches and comments made earlier in the night.

“Huh,” she said thoughtfully, considering stopping them before someone going to use the bathroom got a huge shock. Instead, she stood in front of the entrance, arms folded and face twisted into her best “law enforcement officer” sneer. It was Greg's day, after all. She’d give them ten more minutes.

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