DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI.

This is a slash story between Nick and Greg. No Smut, just minor foul language.

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Today was turning into one weird day for Nick Stokes.

All night he had been getting looks.

Some were curious, some were yeah-whatever, and some were come-hither looks.

It wouldn't have really bothered him if all the looks he had received hadn't been aimed at his crotch. Every single person he had come into contact with today had glanced down at his privates.

Some were more discreet than others but he still caught the glances and it was really beginning to get on his nerves.

It seemed that every time he entered a room conversations stopped and all eyes were on the front of his pants.

He was curious as hell as to when and why his cock had become the current topic of conversation.

Even though he was curious there were more important things to do and he set to work on going through some evidence of a bank robbery that had left one teller with a gunshot wound. A little over halfway through the night his stomach growled, begging him for food, so Nick packed up the evidence and headed for the break room.

Sara and Warrick were seated at one of the two tables. They were in a heated debate in looked like but stopped as soon as they spotted him headed to the counter. He gave them a curious glance and took his mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee that looked like tar and probably tasted even worse. He turned and found their eyes still on him, Sara's quickly darting down towards his crotch for what was probably the tenth time that night.

He scowled at her, "What's up guys?"

Warrick smirked and kicked her under the table, getting a startled yelp from the girl in front of him. She looked his way and then turned to Nick, a smile playing on her lips.

"Not much Stokes," Warrick glanced at Sara out of the corner of his eye, "Just chattin' it up about the great time we all had at the club last night."

"Yeah? Anything interesting happen?"

"Oh definitely," Sara beamed and cast another glance at his pants.

"Yeah, what? Did Hodges get up and do a drunken version of the Macarena?"

"Nooo...although that would have been pretty damn funny," Sara laughed at the image now dancing in her head.

"So who did what, then?" Nick asked, raising his mug to his lips.

"Well it's not really a who-did-what...it's more of a who-said-what," Warrick smirked and lounged back in his chair.

Nick stood there, cup to his lips, waiting for Warrick to elaborate.

"How's your back Nick?"

The question, posed by Sara, caught him off-guard and he raised an eyebrow at her.

"Fine. Why?" he asked slowly before taking a drink of the stale coffee.

"Well we thought that someone with a twelve inch dick and balls the size of baseballs would have ended up with some kind of back problem," Warrick stated smoothly.

Nick spit out his coffee, spraying the floor and his two friends. His face turning as red as a fire truck. "WHAT!?"

Despite being covered in coffee and spit the two at the table managed to burst out laughing at the Texan's face.

"What's so funny?" Catherine asked as she strolled in, her heels clicking on the tiled floor. She smiled when she saw Nick and seductively walked up to him, running a manicured finger down his cheek.

"Why Nicky how come you never told me? We could of had some really great fun together."

Nick's face turned an even brighter shade of red, if possible before he rushed out of the break room doors. Laughter followed him down the hallway to Grissom's office. Where he quickly explained that he wasn't feeling well and had decided to head home for the night. Grissom looked at him over the rim of his glasses and the corner of his lips twitched.

"Take all the time you need Nick."

Thankfully Grissom left it at that and so Nick hurried out of the office, made a quick trip in the locker room, and burst out of the Lab doors. He grabbed his keys and ran to his Black Ford Pick-Up Truck. He pulled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell and headed in the opposite direction of home.

His boyfriend was so dead.

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He was Dead.

That's it, That's all she wrote.

He was absolutely fucked.

Greg Sanders was officially no more according to the look of pure venom Nick was giving him right now.

When he had seen Nick on the other side of the peep-hole, he had thought 'alright lunch-time quickie'. But no, not if that look was anything to go by.

"Uh, hi Nicky..." He swallowed and tried to act cool, "what...what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working?"

Greg could have sworn about a thousand daggers came flying out of Nick's eyes and he staggered back.

Nick moved inside and closed the door behind him as Greg moved backwards, away from his fuming lover.

"Care to tell me what happened last night at the club?"

Greg winced and groaned, dropping his head in defeat.

He wished he could forget all the juicy details he had given to his co-workers last night in his drunken stupor but remarkably he had eventually remembered everything he had said. Giving up without so much as a second thought he had spilled quite a lot about sexual positions he had tried, places he had done it, some toys he had used. If he had been smart he would have listened to the voice in his head screaming at him to 'shut the hell up' but nope, not he. Not Greg Sanders.

It really wasn't his fault, it was Catherine's for finding out his weakness.

Nick moved in closer to him and he scrambled backwards, moving around his couch, so it separated the two of them.

"I didn't mean too! It wasn't my fault!"

"Who's fault was it then?"

"Catherine's..." he mumbled sheepishly, as he looked up at Nick through his eyelashes.

"How exactly is it Catherine's fault that everyone in the lab thinks I have a freakishly large dick!?" He yelled.

"Um...well she kind of kept buying me drink after drink and I guess I may have let slip...afewdetailsofoursexlife." Greg rushed the last part and Nick paled.

"A few details! You let slip more than...than..." Nick squeaked out.

"Maybe."

Nick walked around to the front of the couch and collapsed on the cushions, he rested his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes, groaning. Greg cautiously sat down next to him and waited. And waited. And waited. Around ten minutes passed before Nick leaned his head back on the couch and glanced over at Greg. A small scowl adorned his face and Greg gave his best puppy dog eyes, with a hint of please-don't-kill-me thrown in for good measure.

Nick sighed and put his arm around Greg, pulling him close to his side and gave him a small kiss on the forehead.

"So...your not gonna kill me?" Greg whispered.

"No, I'm not gonna kill you. On one condition though..."

"What?" He asked, willing to do anything to make it up to Nicky.

"Promise me you won't drink any more Tequila Sunrises without me present to shut you up."

Greg gave a half-hearted laugh and rested his forehead against Nick's chest. "I promise."

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A/N: This actually happened to someone I know. First time drinking and one too many Tequila Sunrises later she spills her guts. Funny as hell because it didn't happen to me, thank god!