A/N: Alright everyone. Here it is, as promised. *Smiles* Please read and review!

It hadn't been a big deal, really. I mean… he'd only made an offhand comment. Such a tiny thing, it was. It shouldn't have caused me to stop completely like it did. Shouldn't have caused me to space out on autopilot for the rest of shift, and yet that's exactly what happened. You know what the funny thing about it is? I'd known how he felt about them. He'd never made it a secret… most people didn't like them, and I knew that. Hell, I didn't like them, either…

~ Flashback ~

I sat on the trunk of my car staring at my hands, recalling his words. "Cigarettes are just nasty, not to mention bad for you… But have you ever kissed a smoker? Like kissing an ashtray or something. It's gross, man." And just like that… I had the strongest urge to quit. Which was fucked up. I don't know why something he said would make me want to give them up. I'd had many of my ex's bitch and complain about them. Several arguments over them, too… Not once did it cross my mind to stop, though.

But here I am, alone in the parking lot, rolling a cancer stick between my fingers. Just staring at it. I had a lighter at the ready in my other hand, purely out of habit. I don't know how long I've been sitting here for, just staring at it. I glanced to the little empty red and white box that I'd left sitting next to me, the last one. My last one…

A small flick of my thumb, and the flame ignited. Bringing the filter to my lips, I inhaled as I lit the other end. Then, lying back, I stared up at the stars and took a deep drag. The familiar burn was always something I found oddly soothing. Right now, instead of enjoying it, all I can think of… is him. A sigh left me in a puff of smoke. "What would it be like, I wonder?" Would his lips be firm? Or soft? How would he taste? Certainly not like an ashtray… Would he moan, and sigh? Or would he remain silent and in control?

A firm hand dropped onto my shoulder, causing me to jump. I found my heart suddenly in my throat at the sight of a familiar, soft gaze. "What would what be like, Greg?" Of course he'd have to be here. That he'd heard me should have been a given, but somehow I was still a little surprised. I glanced to his warm yet curious smile before letting my eyes flick back up to the heavens above. Bringing the filter to my lips yet again, I used the action to think, if only for an extra moment. Stalling wouldn't work for long, I knew… But I couldn't very well tell him the truth, now could I? Fuck no.

"To fly. I've always wondered, you know? Think about it… to actually fly, like one of those the red tailed hawks… you like to watch. Wouldn't you wanna try it, just once?" Something odd flashed through his eyes. A look I couldn't quite identify. But he shrugged then nodded all the same. His next words would plague me for months. I'd have dreams about them… But he couldn't know that. I can't blame him for saying it, as I was the one who chose to purposefully misinterpret.

"There are lots of things that I'd like to try at least once… But I'd rather not try them alone." Another unreadable look danced through his eyes, and my breath caught. All I could think of was how gorgeous he looked right then. He wasn't done speaking, though… and my own eyes were drawn down to the shape of his lips while he talked. "Same goes for flying. But yeah, it'd be something… I'm sure."

Taking another long drag, I smiled to myself. Gods but I am fucked up. I snatched my eyes away from him, before he could realize that I was staring. Can't have that. He'd get the wrong idea or something… Though maybe it wasn't the wrong idea. I'd definitely have to think about that one.

I let the smoke out slowly, making sure that it followed the wind… away from him. We stayed there like that until my cigarette was spent. I don't know why he didn't just leave. Apparently choosing instead to stand there, not three feet away, in silence. But I had no complaints. I always did enjoy his company.

~ End Flashback ~

Looking back on it now, I know that it had been right around then. Somewhere near that day, I think… I thought… that I might possibly have a… thing… for Nick Stokes.

It was also the very day that I gave up cigarettes for good. I haven't even had a single drag since. My doctor prescribed me some of those nicotine patches. Wonderful things, really… It's been over a year since then. Not much has changed, though. Well, with the exception of my now fully acknowledged feelings for my co-worker, of course.

Things progressed, as they are wont to do. A new day brought a new case or the closing of an old one. We would go out to breakfast, the whole team sometimes, sometimes we wouldn't. Every now and again, Nick and Warrick invite me out for drinks. Which is nice. It's nice to feel like I really am part of the team. One of the guys, you know?

But I'm not just one of the guys. How can I be when I spend most of my time watching? Watching him. I tried not to… Tried to make myself stop, to look away, but it was no use. My eyes were drawn to him, whether I wanted them to be or not. But you know what the funny thing really is? What the real kick in the pants was? He was almost always looking right back at me.

His gaze was searing… Thick and molten and I simply could not look away whenever he'd caught me. I swear sometimes it was like he knew. Like he could read my mind… Like he had been all along. I got the feeling every now and again that he was just biding his time. That he was simply waiting. For what, exactly, I wasn't sure. But that was okay, I guess. Though really only because I knew that it was all just a product of my overactive imagination. I often wonder if this is what he felt like when he watched birds. Could he just sit there? Do absolutely nothing but sit and watch for hours on end? Did it make him feel the way he makes me feel? I shook my head to physically dislodge the thought. That was just plain idiotic… a fantasy. Nothing more.

It was a year and a half, almost to the day before anyone mentioned anything. It was actually Archie of all people. Nick and I had been working a double homicide out in Henderson; some kid had a security camera propped up on his windowsill, aimed down his driveway towards the street. Chances were good that we could catch something of our killer on it.

I had leaned over him to glance at a spot that he'd pointed out. Some guy on a bike, with what looked to be bloodstains on his jeans. It was then that I'd heard him. "So you quit, huh, Greg?" I'd blinked in total bewilderment. Having no idea what he could have possibly meant at first. He smiled and went on, "I don't smell the usual hint of smoke…" A few beats passed and realization dawned on me. With a sheepish smile I lifted a hand to scratch at the back of my neck as I nodded.

"Uh yeah… Um, it was well over a year ago now, I think. Not sure exactly when." That last bit was a lie, but neither of them needed to know that. I glanced to Nick, for what? A reaction, I guess? A look or a supportive word, maybe? Whatever I was looking for, I didn't find it. You see… he didn't have any reaction at all. It seemed as though he hadn't even been paying us any attention. His eyes were glued to the screen.

"That's really good. I'm glad. Those things are dangerous, you know?" I nodded and smiled, not really having anything else to say on the subject. Something akin to disappointment swirled in the pit of my stomach. I'd wanted him to hear… I want… no I need him to know… But of course, he doesn't care. Why would he? I struggled to keep any trace of emotion from my face or body language, choosing a spot on the desk to focus on, instead. Nick startled me, when he suddenly spoke. His voice echoed, sounding unusually loud in my ears.

"I know this guy. It's the same guy we talked to the other night. The bum that we interviewed… That's funny; he doesn't look like a bum here. Now does he? Let's go." And just like that, we were off. The moment was placed on a shelf inside my mind, to review a thousand times over, later.

The dreams had started about a month in to quitting. I thought they'd be gone by now… but they only changed focus, or rather added to one. I'd have a dream that I was smoking. Even though I had no desire to smoke, I'd find myself with one already lit and in my hand. I'd wake up angry with myself for even entertaining the thought if only in my subconscious. But a while after they had started, they changed. Instead of being set around smoking a cigarette, it was centered on my lighting one, and then Nick would appear and take it away. In both varying and inventive ways, he'd steal the thin stick from me. Using his lips to give mine something much better to do. But he never kissed me the same way twice. Which always frustrated me to no end. In more ways then one…

Sometimes he would be incredibly gentle. Cupping my face tenderly and brushing his lips against mine in the barest of touches, over and over again. Other times he was like an animal, nipping my bottom lip and wildly claiming my mouth. But they were never exactly the same. This dream would plague me endlessly. Nearly every single night, I awoke, sweaty and impossibly aroused. But even then, the thought never left me alone.

It was quickly becoming my obsession. I mean, every time we spoke, my mind just slipped into this haze, and I'm sure I must look retarded. Sitting there, staring at him and stumbling over my words. I just… I had to know. How he kissed, I mean. The idea had been a seed that had sprouted in my brain, shooting up into a full-grown tree. It was a constant debate, always ongoing in the back of my mind. So, of course, it became increasingly difficult to hold any sort of normal conversation with him. That was only natural, considering. Well, outside of the job, of course. That was one thing I could always manage talk to him about. Thank god for small favors, right?

So our conversations, while they did occur… They were usually either at work or in a group setting. That being said, when Nick asked me to go for a drink while I was changing in the locker room, I said sure. It had been a hard day, for all of us. It was nearly four pm before the end of shift was even heard of. We'd had to pull some overtime to close the case, but it was over. I tied my shoes and whistled a little tune, ignoring the short conversation going on between Warrick and Nick. That was my first mistake. My second was still yet to come.

I drove to the usual bar and sat down at a table in the back, just like I had done a thousand times before. Smiling to the waitress, I ordered a beer and a shot, figuring that one couldn't hurt. The tequila burned on the way down, but I didn't mind. In fact, it was a good burn. I mean, if there is such a thing. Ten or twenty minutes later, I was on my second beer when Nick showed up. His smile was wide and when he sat down, it was aimed solely at me. "You been here long?"

I shook my head and took a quick swig before responding. "Not really, only on my second round. You guys aren't too far behind. Where's 'Rick? He running late, or something?" Nicky just blinked and shot me another small smile before ordering a beer. A few minutes later, he was sipping from his own bottle when he finally decided to answer my query.

"I thought you heard him at work. He's not coming. Had to head home. Tina's got him on a pretty short leash right now." He finished his sentence off with a laugh and took another sip. I blinked down at my own beer in sheer horror. This couldn't be happening. Was I really sitting in this bar, not three feet away from him? Just him? No Warrick meant no buffer. It meant that I had nothing at all to distract me from him. I just knew that I'd make an utter ass of myself by the end of it all.

That didn't mean I wanted to leave, though.

As much as the voice in the back of my mind was urging me to make some quick escape, I couldn't force myself to move. Didn't want to go. And why would I? I got to stare at him. Got to watch the way the dim light of the bar cast shadows over his features as he spoke and laughed and grinned at me. He really was fucking beautiful. My fingers clung to my beer tightly every time he lifted his own for a drink. The way his lips wrapped around the bottle made my breath stutter and catch… every… single… time.

We were on our twelfth round before I realized that this was the longest conversation we'd had that didn't involve work in almost three years. A small frown drifted over my face and I realized that it was entirely my fault. He had always had something kind to say. Always spoke to me with sincerity. The only reason why we don't talk more often is because I am pathetic. That's about the size of it. A small sigh escaped as I called the waitress over and ordered a shot.

When it arrived I smiled and took the drink. Noticing that she bent a little lower then necessary to hand it to me. She was wearing a v-neck tee, and smiling at me, making it obvious that she wanted me to look. And just like that, it was clear she was hitting on me. Instead of leaving right away she stuck around and made small talk. I humored her for a minute, but I regretted it almost immediately. Her hand drifted to my hair as she asked me what color it was naturally, her smile a little too sweet. I frowned, wanting nothing more then to knock her arm away. I don't like people touching me like that. Well, not her anyways. I didn't know her from a fucking hole in the wall. To my surprise, I didn't have to say anything in response, though. Didn't have to talk to her at all after that, actually.

Nick's hand came up from out of nowhere, and gently tugged hers away. He whispered something to her, but I couldn't make it out. This normally might have bothered me, as I always like to know what is going on around me, but the alcohol had dulled any sort of apprehension I should probably have been feeling. All I know is that she smiled at me again, and for some reason, apologized. Then she turned her smile to Nick and left.

Suddenly, warmth spread through my right side, and I shivered as heated breath ghosted over my ear. He was so close I could smell the clean crisp scent of what must have been his shampoo… or maybe his soap? My eyelids fluttered shut as his smooth voice sounded in my ear. "You can turn somebody down, you know. You don't have to just sit there and let people touch you if you don't want them to." He was only this close so that I could hear him over the din of conversation surrounding us. That's what I kept telling myself. Over and over, like a mantra.

My heart was hammering in my ribcage, so loud that I thought there was no way he couldn't hear it. And if by some miracle he couldn't, then I thought for sure he'd feel it. His chest was pressed against my shoulder, and the warmth from his body seeped through my flimsy cotton tee. Tingles swept up my spine as little sparks ignited every place that we touched. I couldn't breathe… couldn't think. I knew he was waiting for some sort of an answer, though. And I really couldn't afford to have him suspecting me of anything that might be anywhere near the truth. Furrowing my brows, I cleared my throat once, twice before opening my mouth to speak.

"What… Ah… What makes you think that I didn't want her touching me?" I didn't dare turn to meet his eyes, which I could feel boring into the back of my head. My face was far too flushed. I couldn't let him see. No way. It would be way too fucking obvious. My hands clenched. My left hand around the cold glass bottle it held, and my right around the bunched up fabric of my jeans. Both sets of knuckles were white as a sheet. Another warm breath flowed over my skin, causing gooseflesh to rise up on my neck. Followed by another shiver, which wracked my frame while a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"You do this thing, you know? When someone you don't necessarily like, touches you. I wouldn't really call it a flinch, but its close. You pull away a little, too. Unconsciously, I think. With you it's pretty easy to tell, actually. As long as someone knows what to look for…" A long pause, and then, as if he were trying to prove his point… careful fingers swept over my forearm. Slowly, they made their way towards my wrist. The pressure so light, that if I wasn't drunk I was sure it would tickle. I swallowed back a slight whine. This was like something out of the Twilight Zone. Because it felt like he was testing me… And the heat between us was building. Rising.

But that couldn't be right.

Casting my eyes about the fairly busy bar, I was shocked. How could no one else see that such a momentous thing was occurring here? I turned to face him, finally. My curiosity winning out over any embarrassment I might be feeling. Plus, I was banking on him assuming my flush was from the liquor. Just what exactly was going on? Before I could build the courage to ask, he started speaking again. "But then when it's someone you're okay with… when you don't mind them touching you… It's almost like you're a cat. You lean into it… like you can't help yourself. The only thing missing is the purr." And then he laughed lightly, but not in any sort of condescending way. No, it was much worse then that. Because I found it was unnervingly sexy, instead.

My face was getting redder by the second. My mouth opened and closed several times while I tried to form words. But all that came out were odd strangled sounds. My eyes had long since drifted down to watch his hand, fingers still grazing my flesh ever so lightly. Just what the fuck am I supposed to do here? I have no goddamned idea. It's the alcohol. Has to be… There was no way that things are happening like I think they are.

My brain must be so fogged up that it's distorting everything.

My hands were shaking, my palms were sweating and I was suddenly fifteen again. Standing in front of Myra Dean. The punch line to that joke is that I was so nervous I ended up losing my lunch all over her shoes.

He's so very close. Too close… Not nearly close enough. Biting the inside of my cheek, I took another sip of my beer. What else is there to do? I'm at a standstill. I can't do what my body, my instincts are screaming at me to do. I want to close the very small distance between us. Devour his lips with mine. Why the fuck does he do this to me? Why am I so damn nervous? This shit just isn't fair. Torture… yeah, that's what this is, plain and fucking simple.

I stood abruptly, knowing only that I needed to put some distance between us. Now. My awkward action jarred the table, along with the bottles of beer that rested on top of it. Mumbling something about the bathroom, I took off, like the hounds of hell were hunting me. I knew that I could only hide out in the john for so long, but it would at least give me some space and a little time to think clearly. However brief that reprieve might be.

I moved to the sink and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would cool me down some. It didn't. I dried off, and then shook my head to clear it. Bracing myself, a hand on either side of the sink, I stared up into the reflection of my own eyes. Mumbling to myself. "Idiot. Don't fuck this up. Don't be fucking stupid. He doesn't know what he's doing. He just… doesn't. You will not kiss him. No." I narrowed my eyes at myself, like that might help to drive the point home. But the heat in my body and in my jeans wasn't dissipating.

Growling, I clenched my right hand into a fist and punched the wall. "God fucking damn it!" I knew I shouldn't have yelled, but I couldn't help it. It was just too much. This was all too much… and Nick had no idea. No clue that he was winding me up into this frenzy without even fucking trying. I shook, my whole body trembling with how much I wanted him. And I knew that if anyone walked into the room right then, they'd see a mad man. Pacing back and forth as if he were a Tiger they'd just locked up in some flimsy cage.

I took a few deep, steady breaths to calm myself and then returned to the sink. Splashing water on my face for the second time. Blindly reaching for some paper towels, I froze when I heard the door open. But then I forced myself to relax. There was no way that it was… "Greg? You alright?" Well, fuck. He came to check up on me. Should've figured that he'd know something was up. The man IS a CSI level three after all.

Finally getting a hold of some paper towels, I dried my face and forced a plastic smile. Hoping he couldn't see right through it. I looked at him via his reflection in the mirror and nodded. Trying to keep my eyes locked on his was proving difficult. They kept trying to drift down. But I managed. "I'm fine, Nicky. Nothing to worry about." I glanced down as I dried my hands and turned to face him while tossing the paper into the nearby trashcan. But when my eyes found him again, I gasped in surprise. He was far closer then I'd expected him to be. How does he do that?

His brows were furrowed, the lines of his face marred in obvious concern, and so very close. Only a scant foot stood between us. Then his hand was gently resting on my shoulder. Squeezing ever so slightly. A whine full of longing tore itself, unbidden, from my throat. He just kept pushing me. Dangling fresh meat above the Tiger's head, then snatching it away again. It may very well just be a fun game for him…

But I'm at my limit.

I licked my lips, as I watched his form words. Clearly he was speaking, but my mind must have found the words to be irrelevant, because my ears seemed to have shut down for the moment. Suddenly my body was full of energy, practically pulsing with it. Just one more push, one tiny little shove and… it would be all over. That's all I need. Even as that thought cycled through my brain, I knew it wouldn't be very long now. For the thumb of the hand still resting on my shoulder slid over the collar of my tee shirt, brushing the heated skin of my neck ever so gently. Then it moved in small circles, almost tenderly, and heat washed through me in waves. Such a small point of contact, but it was enough to cause a tidal wave within me. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, his tongue peaked out the tiniest bit. He swiped it over his bottom lip in a way that, to me, screamed unadulterated sin.

Something in me snapped. The next thing I knew, I had him up against the wall. His wrists pinned over his head, both firmly within my grasp, as I slid a leg in between his. He said something, but it was lost on me as I took his lips. He had gasped, probably in shock, and I'd used the opportunity to steal inside. A moan vibrated through my chest at the taste of him… Cinnamon, and the tang of beer, mixed with another taste that I simply couldn't describe if my life depended on it. It was just… Nick. It was better then anything I'd managed to imagine up to that point, simply because it was real. His body was so damn warm and perfect against me.

We were connected from shoulder to knee, but that was entirely my doing. I mean, c'mon. It's not like I was giving him much choice here, pressing him into the wall as I was. Nor was I thinking about the fact that he was completely still. Not stiff, but just… totally unmoving. Can you really blame me for not paying that much mind, though? It was just so damn good. He felt so fucking amazing. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. To feel every inch of him, sans the stupid bits of fabric that stood between us. I wanted these things so very badly, that I growled my frustration into his mouth. The most delicious shudder wracked his body… and it gave me a small glimmer of hope. Something I hadn't even realized I was waiting for.

I attacked his mouth more fervently, licking and playfully flicking his tongue with my own, gently nibbling at his bottom lip. Trying desperately to pull a reaction, a sign, something… any sort of reciprocation from him. But after that single shudder, there'd been no other move made on his part. Nothing. I pulled back grimacing in pain, not only because it actually almost hurt to separate from him, but also because I couldn't look him in the eye. I couldn't bear to hear the rejection that was surely going to leave his lips the moment he'd caught his breath. Couldn't bring myself to take whatever harsh words he decided to give me, like a man. So, like the fucking weak, pathetic coward that I so obviously am… I ran.

I ran through the bar and out the door, to my car. Driving aimlessly while I berated myself for what was probably the single most idiotic moment of my entire existence. I slammed my fist against the dash, and when that wasn't enough, I hit the steering wheel for good measure. Every curse word I had ever learned fell from my mouth in the longest string of words I have ever produced. It would have been hilarious if I weren't so pissed off at myself. I glanced up to my own reflection in my rearview mirror, berating my own foolishness. "Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking retard… God damn it all to fucking hell! I am the world's biggest moron! FUCK! What was all of that work for, then? What was the god damned point in taking so much care to make sure he didn't find out if I was only going to end up doing… that? You are such an idiot, Greg Sanders! You just HAD to let your fucking guard down, didn't you?"

I panted, out of breath, having screamed all of that at once without pause. My vision began to blur a little, and a choked sort of sob wrenched itself from my throat as I struggled to drive normally. The shrill sound of my cell phone ringing was a shock of cold water to my senses, making me jump a mile high. Yes, I was that on edge. Reaching into my pocket and fishing it out, I nearly slammed on the brakes when I read the flashing name. N. Stokes. I hit ignore and pulled the car over, still staring at the screen. One missed call, it read. Funny, but I didn't know what to do right then except stare at the small contraption blankly. A moment later, it beeped and I jumped yet again. It was a sound I'd heard millions of times. Nothing more then an alert, telling me that I now had a voicemail. Such a simple thing, you know? But it still caused a flood of emotion. Why was he calling me? He should be taking the hint that I know I'm a retard, and would like to pretend that it never happened, thank you very much. Hence the whole 'running away' bit.

Nick had never been one to leave any loose ends, though. He liked knowing exactly where he stood in every situation. So really, I'm an even bigger idiot for thinking he'd act like nothing had happened. I frowned deeply and laid my head back to stare up at the roof of my car in thought. Realistically, the worst things that could happen are that Nick would punch me, or something, which I totally deserve. That and never speak to me on a non-professional basis ever again. The real question is… Am I man enough to handle that?

No… I'm not. I'm a fucking coward… and I'm scared. I don't want to lose him. I just… can't. I set my phone down on the passenger seat and slammed my forehead against the steering wheel. I had no intention of listening to the voicemail. It would just make me feel even more retarded. I decided that the best course of action was avoidance all around. Juvenile, I know, but I didn't really have any choice. If I avoid him for long enough, maybe he'll get that I don't want to talk about it or deal with it. Maybe then we can go back to the way things were, before I lost my mind. What would Papa Olaf say if he saw this right now?

The thought was unexpected, but welcomed. I smiled, because I knew exactly what he'd say. He'd say: "Hojem, when the going gets rough, keep your chin up."

So that's exactly what I'll do.

It's been three days since the incident in the bathroom, and I'm already exhausted. Coming up with excuses to leave every time we happen to be alone isn't going to work forever. Every time I left for home it was like a god send. Because it gave me time to catch my breath. Time to think without worrying about where to hide. That's not the worst of it, though.

He keeps calling me. I never pick up, but still, he calls. Keeps leaving messages too. I just can't seem to get away. But the fucked up thing is… It's like I don't really want to. I think I like this, to some degree. I like that he won't leave me alone. That for once, he was trying to get my attention. I know that its pretty selfish, and stupid, and kind of desperate but I can't help myself.

It was almost a week later that he finally cornered me. I say cornered but it wasn't really like that. We were in the break room. I'd thought it safe because Catherine had been there, but I was wrong. She'd left almost as soon as I'd walked in. I attempted to 'casually' walk back out as well, but Nick moved to intercept. He was now directly in front of the door, with his crossed his arms loosely. Just standing there, blocking my escape. "I've been calling you." I thought that after so much time, he'd say something else. That he might yell or something in frustration. But he didn't. His voice was eerily calm as he spoke. I frowned and shifted my weight to my left leg. Intensely nervous…

"I know." I didn't really know what else to say. What else was there to say? Nothing really, except… "I'm sorry." His eyes widened a little in what I assumed to be surprise. But I didn't ask. I just ran a hand through my hair and glanced down at my feet. Waiting for him to speak again.

"Have you listened to my messages?" I shook my head and kept my eyes down. I didn't want to see his face right now. This was just way too awkward for me. I really wanted to bolt… but this fucking gorgeous, stubborn ass of a man didn't seem to want to move. I sighed. "Why not?" Something about the way he said that caused me to stop and look up. He was frowning, and staring at me with a look I couldn't decipher. I shrugged, not wanting to sound like an idiot. But something was off about this. I just couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Before anything else could be said, Grissom walked in… and even though he's not my type, I could have kissed him right then and there, until he handed Nick a slip and spoke. "Here. Bring Greg. You'll need the help." I couldn't help rolling my eyes up to the ceiling and mouthing the words 'Fuck my life.' This shit was getting ridiculous. The car ride would have been far too awkward if I rode with him, so I took my car and followed him. When we got to the scene my phone rang. With a long sigh, I fished it out and glanced down.

A half a beat later, my eyes flew to the car parked next to mine. To the man I loved. He sat there, staring right back at me with his own cell phone to his ear. Why the fuck was he calling me now? He's never called me during work before. And certainly not while I was less then fifty feet away. I knew my phone had stopped ringing, but I didn't really care. Nicky's lips were moving, so I knew he was leaving me a message. But his eyes, well they stayed glued to mine. His gaze was fierce, intense… in a way that I'd never seen before. Not from him. Well, not directed at me, at least.

I can't read lips like Grissom, but I really wished that I could right then. Something was telling me that this moment is important. I don't know why, but it is. Sadly, I was only able to make out my name on his lips, before he said something else and hung up.

Swallowing thickly, I turned my eyes down to my hands, which still gripped my cell phone in my lap. Something was clawing at my insides. Churning my stomach. I couldn't breathe properly and I suddenly felt a little sick. He's really trying to talk to me, and what am I doing? Hiding… like a little kid huddled under his blankets, afraid of the boogieman. But Nicky isn't the boogieman, and he won't be attacking me. I know that much to be true. Which is lucky, I guess. The funny thing is he doesn't even seem angry with me. In fact, now that I think about it, he looks hurt more then anything else. It's almost like he's in pain whenever our eyes do happen to meet. But that can't be right.

I must just be seeing things.

We processed the scene quietly, but with great care. Thankfully, any conversation we did have was entirely work related. But I would look over my shoulder or glance to him every so often. And every single time, he was staring at me. With the same exact expression he'd worn before, when we'd first arrived. Fierce, intense... Hot. So much so that it felt it was burning me from the inside out. But then, the look would fade into that almost hurt expression. It was confusing as all hell.

I've always thought that the eyes really are the windows to the soul. Sometimes… They say so much more then your mouth ever could. The drawback to that is, sometimes, you have to know someone well enough to read what they want to say but can't. I'm not always very good at that.

Why do things have to end up so complicated? Shit would just be so much easier if I didn't have these stupid feelings. None of this would have ever happened, and Nick and I wouldn't be all awkward like this. We could hang out without my heart hammering in my chest or my throat going dry. But alas, fate seemed to have different plans for me. I often wonder if there really is an all knowing cosmic being sitting up there orchestrating all of this.

If there is, then I think he's probably having himself a nice long laugh while watching my life play out. It would just be so fucking perfect if my life really were nothing more then some colossal joke. Created purely for its entertainment value.

We made it back to the lab with no real communication, which I found to be a huge feat. But I was so drained emotionally that it probably wouldn't have mattered either way. I'm just so tired, of everything. I found myself wondering if maybe, perhaps, he felt the same way… but that couldn't be. Nick empathizes with people, sure. He's one of the most compassionate people I have ever met. But he wouldn't be all shook up over something like this… or me.

He's… just…. he's not as weak as I am.

And it was because of that weakness that I ended up at the bar, after shift. The very place where my life turned to shit… yeah, that's the one. But bad days called for drinks… and bad weeks called for shots. Now, that being said…I'd just like to point out that I had not meant to go all that far. Even though I fully intended to drink upon arrival, sure. I hadn't planned on getting so drunk I couldn't speak… It just sort of happened, I guess. I remember taking a bunch of shots and glancing to the clock. Things got pretty blurry after a while… Then I was dreaming. It was such a nice dream, too. Nicky was there. Holding me.

We were walking and he was saying all the things that I've never even let myself imagine I'd hear. Things like "You're adorable like this." And "I really want to kiss you right now." And "Where are your keys?"

Well… maybe not that last one… but it was nice when his warm hands dipped into my pockets in search of them. I laughed because it tickled, and then tried to pull him close, but he wouldn't have it. Said something like "Not here, cowboy." His breath burned my ear and I moaned at the way he said it. His accent was thick as honey, and I couldn't stop the shiver it caused because damn, but it was sexy as fuck.

And then he was laughing. Apparently I'd spoken my thoughts out loud. But that's okay. It's only a dream anyways, right? What does it matter? I smiled and nodded at his words. "Waited almost two years, now. Think I can wait jus' a lil while longer." He stopped short and I almost fell over my own feet before I realized. He had this look on his face… amazement maybe? That or something like it, I think. But I couldn't really tell, and the thought slipped from my mind pretty quickly, because everything was so hazy. Well, everything except for Nick.

He was crystal clear. I could make out every line of his face; count every eyelash, and even the tiny flecks of gold hidden in his eyes. You can't see them unless you get real close… but they're there just the same. His scent was a mix of clean and spicy and his skin was so very soft. Much softer then it should be. And his hands… Gods his hands… They were warm and sure and I wanted them all over me.

But he was trying to get me to sit. Gently coaxing me into a very comfy seat, which would have been really nice, if he weren't pulling away from me. I grabbed for his arm, but he only chuckled and pulled it out of my reach. Then he shut a door I hadn't noticed was there. I panicked. Where the fuck was he going? This is my dream damn it, and I want him here!

A light touch on my shoulder made me jump. Oh, he's back! Somehow he'd appeared behind me. His was hand sliding into my hair, careful fingers twisting and curling through the longer strands, over my scalp. Fuck, but that's nice. My eyelids flutter closed but as soon as they do, the warm hand is gone and then a there's a revving sound. I blinked them back open in surprise and realized, as I finally looked around, that we must be in a car now. My car.

His hand was back, curling behind my neck and pulling me as close as I could get while he drove. I sighed happily and tucked my face into the very inviting spot where his neck and shoulder met. He smelled so nice, felt so good. I found myself wondering at the taste of his skin, and licked a long strip up the column of his throat with a giggle.

Things get a little hazy after that again. Lights zooming by, and warm skin on my tongue and barely there moans. They filled my head. Then it seemed I'd merely blinked and we were at my house. I was watching his eyes flutter shut as I traced his bare sternum with my lips. He clung to me and I felt like a god, with him pinned against my front door. His shirt was open, and just barely hanging on. I'd ripped some of the buttons off in my haste to explore. My own shirt was gone. Tossed over my shoulder without a care.

He was saying something, but it didn't really register, I was far too occupied with the way his nipple peaked ever so deliciously under my tongue. Whatever it was that he'd been trying to say must not have been all that important because he gave up trying and pulled me closer, shamelessly rubbing himself on the leg that I had wedged between his.

And damn but he was amazing-beautiful-perfect.

I pulled back and reveled in the whine he let loose in reply. It sent a shock of pleasure straight through me to know that I was affecting him just as much as he affects me. Even if it isn't real, I can still enjoy the fantasy damn it. Hooking a finger into one of his belt loops and gently pulling him along, I led him down the hall to my room. Things got all blurry and fused together again when we finally made it to my bed. Hands wandered and lips danced over every inch of available skin. I remember trailing my fingertips over his lips and smiling.

Then everything went black.

I blinked awake with a groan. Curling deeper into the warmth in my arms, I hid my face, attempting to hide from the world. There was a low rumbling chuckle and a hand was gently carding through my hair. It was then that I realized I wasn't alone. Another thought, almost as distressing as the first occurred directly after. The person I was holding was distinctly male, and it was then that my dream came back to me. "Fuck." I officially hate myself. What kind of moron picks up a random stranger and sleeps with them because they're starving for someone else? I've officially become pathetic. Maybe I can get him to leave soon. Awkward morning-after talks suck. I'm just no good at them.

While I lay there wallowing in my own pit of misery and self-loathing, another low chuckle sounded and the arm around my waist tightened almost… affectionately. "You certainly tried last night. How're you feeling?" My mind shut down. The shock must have caused me to short circuit or something. Who knows? What I do know is that when I finally rebooted it was to the fact that I would know that voice anywhere. Could identify it in the most crowded of places. Holy fuck… What had I done?

I bolted upright, and groaned in agony as my head protested the movement. Still, I moved to get up. I didn't make it very far before I felt a warm body at my back. Then I was pressed against the wall next to my bedroom door. I lowered my gaze and took stock of myself at the same time. No shirt pants unbuttoned, but still on. Nick was still mostly dressed, so that was a good sign, right? "Let me go. I need aspirin."

Careful arms encircled my waist, slowly. As if he were afraid I might get startled and attack. One hand dipped into my pants pocket and pulled out my cell phone. "No. You don't get to run away again. I wont let you. Not until you hear everything first." I opened my mouth to respond, but he shook his head and dialed my voicemail. With a frown, I closed my mouth and waited.

"Hey… Uh… It's me." A long pause… "Call me back… Please."

"So are you not there, or are you just screening your calls? Look, you don't have to avoid me, okay? I just… I just want to talk to you. That's all. I guess I'll just call back later. Bye."

"Fine, if you aren't going to answer, then I hope you at least listen. We need to talk. Things can't go on like this… You can't hide from this… from me, forever. Just… Just call me. Okay? You know the number."

"Still not answering, huh? That's okay, I guess. I mean it's not like I'm going anywhere. I got time… But we do have to talk. I'm not going away, G."

"Did you know that when you're concentrating on something, you sort of have this pout on your face? Your bottom lip sticks out just a little bit. Makes me want to… God you have no idea, do you? I mean you really don't know. Just… fuck. You have no idea what you've done to me…"

"Sorry about that last one… I was drunk and really wanted to talk. Actually, there are lots of things I really want say to you… Can you please just answer your damn phone?"

"Greg, I can't take this. You keep running from me. You wont take my calls, or even bother to return them. I don't know what to do here…"

"Sometimes you dance, when you think no one is looking… It's obvious that a song is playing in your head, and I... It really is something. I see glimpses of this odd but very cute lab tech I once knew. The one I used to make up excuses to see. He had the brightest smile for me every day. I miss that… so much. Didn't you ever wonder why I was in DNA all the time?"

"You know, I've been wondering. That morning, a while back… In the parking lot… How'd you know that red tailed hawks are my favorite bird?"

"When were you planning on telling me you quit smoking? I mean, I knew… When you quit. But… You've never actually told me, yourself. Been wanting to ask about that… for a good while now."

"Are you ever going to call me back?"

"I told myself that if you didn't answer this time, then that'd be that. I'd leave you alone. Let you pretend that you didn't kiss me… Make myself pretend that it wasn't the single hottest moment of my life. Greg Sanders, I really like you. I don't want to just leave things as they are. I want you… and I think… I thought you wanted me, too. I'm going to try one more time, but this time… it won't be a phone call."

"So, I'm staring at your sleeping face right now. I don't know if you'll remember any of what happened in the morning… You are wasted beyond belief… But that's okay. I have no problem with taking the time to explain it. You know what? Even now… sloppy, passed out drunk and drooling on my shirt, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Sweet dreams, Greggo."

The automated chick asked me what I wanted to do… but I couldn't have been farther away. He was slowly lowering my cell phone… silently staring at me, waiting. This had to be some sort of joke or something. The look in his eyes disputed my theory instantly though. Intent and focused upon my own with such a longing, such a deep questioning, that I knew otherwise. Clearly, he wasn't joking. A moment later I was laughing, not at him, but at myself.

At my own foolishness…

Here I've been so focused on my own issues that I never noticed what I was doing to him. Even though it was plain as day… How the fuck could I have missed it? I'd been hurting him, this whole time. Without even trying to see how he felt, I just ran around blindly, pitying myself. God, but I fucking hate me.

I took a long and controlled breath. Hoping that it would help me calm down some before I spoke. And I would have to speak. It wasn't as if I could just stand here silent, basking in this moment forever. I knew exactly what I wanted to do… but my body wasn't cooperating. My hands… they just wouldn't move, at first. It was as if there was a delay somewhere between them and the orders my brain was sending them. But, after an agonizingly long moment, the fingers of my right hand closed around my cell phone, gently pulling it form his grasp. I didn't need to see the numbers to dial. Nicky was number one on my speed-dial, so it only took a fraction of a second before I pulled the phone back to my ear. Swallowing audibly, I licked my lips, and trembled when I heard the familiar beep. Still, I forced the words to come. Staring at him, I silently willed him to just listen as I let the syllables tumble into the phone.

"I-I'm sorry this call took so long… I have no excuses. Because, instead of acting like the grown man that I'm supposed to be, I hid. From you… from everything… But I won't do that anymore. I'm going to tell you the truth." I hit the end button then the call button twice. Redialing the last number. His brows furrowed in the most attractive way. Confused but so obviously hopeful. He opened his mouth to speak, but I covered his lips with me free hand… And when I heard the beep, I began to speak again.

"I've watched you, from the very beginning… I couldn't pull my eyes away; no matter how hard I tried. There was just something, something about you… I couldn't figure out what it was, but I couldn't leave it alone, either." I hung up then ducked my head, while I began the process anew.

"I've known your cell phone number by heart for years, long before you ever gave it to me."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully express just how sorry I really am. I fucked up royally, and I know that. Just… Please… I want to try and fix it. I don't care if it takes a hundred years… I'll make it up to you. I'll say I'm sorry a hundred times a day until you can't stand it anymore, and then I'll say it again."

His hands appeared at my hips, each thumb gently drawing small soothing circles over the bare skin they found there. My breath caught for a moment, and I smiled the picture they made splayed over my bare stomach and jeans. I took a determined breath and hummed affectionately in reply. My eyes were still downcast, though. I just… I had to get all of this out. I had to tell him clearly, here and now. And if I looked up, I might not be able to finish.

"You make me nervous and excited and clumsy… and I feel like a moron when I'm around you. Because I only want you to see me in the very best light, but it always feels like… I just… I dunno. It scares me, because I know that I look like a fool. No one else makes me feel like that, makes me act like that..."

"When I ran… It was because I didn't know how to deal with what I'd done. I thought I'd ruined everything… I thought for sure that you'd hate me… That I'd lost you for good… and I was terrified."

"There are times… It's not often, but every once in a while, I catch you humming a song or mumbling a few random lyrics under your breath. Did you know that when you sing… your accent, the one you try so hard to hide, slips out? I could listen to you sing 'Mary had a little lamb' over and over again for hours on end and still be completely entranced."

"Don't ever apologize for saying things that make me ache. Drunk or otherwise."

"I always thought it was funny that the hot CSI from Austin never noticed how I'd make up every excuse under the sun to keep him in my lab. Even went so far as to invent stupid guessing games just so that he'd stay for one more minute. I miss the days when the walls of my lab hid nothing from anyone who cared to look, but it somehow still felt like we were in our own little world. Like there was no one else… Because for me, there isn't."

"When we're outside, working a case… Whenever you hear a bird your eyes are immediately on the sky. I don't think you're aware that you do it, but it's… it's cute. Whenever you see a red tailed hawk, its different, though. You watch it with… awe? Your expression is always just… breathtaking. The first time I saw that look; I wanted it to be aimed at me… and I hated those birds, because you gave it to them so freely. It took me a long time realize exactly what that meant."

"N-Nicky… I… uh… I quit… I quit cigarettes two years ago, last Saturday. Not because of my health or because it was getting too expensive. Not even because it was the right thing to do... I quit… for you. I-It never occurred to me to stop until you complained about them. And it got me thinking. I thought that maybe, because I smoked that you might think less of me. What you think of me is… it's everything. It's because of you Nick… it always has been…"

I trailed off, finally lifting my gaze and immediately catching his eye. Smiling, I gently bit my bottom lip before continuing. "And if you don't kiss me right now, I think I might just fucking lose it."

My phone was ripped from my grasp. He hit end and tossed it uncaringly over his shoulder. But I wasn't complaining. His lips were slick from when he'd licked them moments earlier… and soft. So fucking soft.

A bunch of things happened in quick succession, then. I tugged off his shirt, which had been hanging precariously off his shoulders, while he reached to push my jeans down my hips. He must have been guiding me back towards the bed without my notice because the next thing I knew, we were falling. But that was okay, because he was only gone for a moment, and then he was right there, again. My legs were free of the tyranny that was my jeans, and somehow he'd managed to remove my boxers when I wasn't looking, but I was just as bad. Having pushed his pants and boxer briefs past his knees in two seconds flat. Then it was just his skin, his lips and his hands, until finally, the teasing became too much to bear.

I whined into his mouth the first time he actually grew bold enough to touch the throbbing heat between my legs. Somehow, I just hadn't expected him to do it, and that just made the reality of it so much fucking better. I reached for him too, but he gently caught my wrist. I frowned and kissed him fiercely, utterly confused. He returned the kiss for a moment, and then pulled back gently, turning to grab something from a drawer in the bedside table. I heard a soft click and then something cool was being poured into my hand. Comprehension dawned a moment later and I chuckled. Of course he's prepared, the Boy Scout that he is.

Then we were pressed together, from chest to toes. I let loose a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp when the heat of his body met my own. Fuck but I never thought fire could feel this good. And he did feel like fire. Beautiful and burning and intense…

I couldn't take the teasing anymore… so I reached down between us, intent on touching him, exploring. But he carefully nudged my fingers wider, to include my own length and then my eyes snapped shut all on their own because damn… But this had to be the hottest thing ever. His hand covered mine and he set a slow, steady rhythm that built and stoked the bonfire in my belly in the most delicious manner. Our legs intertwined as we struggled to find purchase on each other. Attempting to stay as close as possible. Our lips met every few seconds and I couldn't help but chuckle lightly, amused.

It's not anything like my dreams. It's awkward and messy and not at all how I'd pictured it. But Nick's head lolling back as his mouth dropped open to gasp out my name over and over again was enough to make me tremble. And the way his breath hitched on every upstroke had me licking my lips in anticipation. The slip and glide of our hands somehow too-much-not-fucking-enough and then I twisted my wrist just so and he was coming.

The pleasure washed over his face while his body shook and I felt like the luckiest son of bitch in the world because no way could any woman ever compete with Nicky like this. I swallowed thickly and gently bit his neck, groaning into the soft flesh between my teeth. His hips surged to meet mine in such a seductive, erotic way that I knew I'd never forget this moment. Not for as long as I lived. The spasms that wracked him were just enough to push me to my own quaking orgasm, but it was his eyes that made me quiver and moan. Molten and sated and staring at me with such utter satisfaction while I rode the last few waves of pleasure. It was fucking heaven on earth and I couldn't have looked away if there'd been a gun to my head.

Neither of us bothered to move for long moments, other then to steal slow lazy kisses and to shift just a little bit closer. Eventually, it was Nick who moved away first. Though, it was only to grab a washcloth for us. And even then he was only gone for all of thirty seconds, if that. Certainly not long enough for me to get cold.

After we'd cleaned up, he curled his body around mine under the blankets and hummed softly in my ear. Murmuring soft words of affection. Most of which I couldn't quite make out… But it was when he was treading the line of sleep, and fighting it, that he mumbled how cute he thought I was when I'd cuddled him in my sleep. And there was something about a cat, and purring in there too. But it was lost before I could question it because he'd finally fallen asleep.

And I knew right there and then… I could kick cigarettes and coffee, no problem. But Nick… Well, I've only had a small taste, but I know for a fact that I wouldn't be ale to just quit him.

No way in hell would I ever get enough.