He wakes up feeling disorientated, the dark telling him it must still be night, but when he got home it was early in the morning, so shouldnít it be day by now? Not that he remembers all that much as to how he got home, all he can recall is hearing the birds, the same birds that he hears when he gets off work so it must have been early in the morning, right?|
He blinks, maybe his visionís still blurred and heís missing something here. And why is his head pounding? Ah yes. Party. Must have been one hell of a party if he canít remember anything. Those are usually the best ones, or maybe thatís just what he tells himself because he canít remember the actual parties. He vaguely recalls a lap dance. Parties involving lap dances are always good.
Blinking doesnít help, it only makes him realize he isnít in his own bedroom.
He smiles and closes his eyes again. Nick took him home. He almost allows himself to fall back to sleep when an alarming thought crosses his mind. What if Nick didnít take him home? Was Nick even at the party?
Slowly, he opens one eye, sighing in relief when he sees the familiar Stokes family picture on the night table. He reaches out with one hand, feeling the body next to him, without having to look he knows itís Nickís and he canít help but smile at himself for almost freaking out like that.
He turns to his side, sliding one arm around Nickís waist and shifting to get as close as possible. The pounding increases with every movement but he chooses to ignore it, makes a quick mental note that alcohol is bad and sighs again once heís succesfully plastered himself against Nickís body.
"Christ, Greg," Nick croaks.
He lifts his head, holding back a groan from the flash of pain that accompanies that particular movement. "What?" He manages to say only after swallowing several times.
"You smell, man."
"Gee, thanks." Greg says absentmindedly, wondering why Nickís yelling at him. Doesnít he know heís right there? "You donít have to shout at me, though."
Nick turns his head and smiles. "Hangovers are a bitch, arenít they?"
"Iím not hung over." Greg whines. Heís not sure why heís whining, or why heís denying anything. Of course heís hung over. And Nick knows it too, which must be the reason why heís smiling so smugly. Greg rolls his eyes at him. "Okay, maybe I am."
Nick arches one eyebrow. "Maybe?"
"Fuck you, Nick."
"Again? Iím not sure Iím up for that, Greg." Nick muses innocently before turning his head again.
Greg gasps. No way. He stares at the back of Nickís head in disbelief. "Nick?"
"I fucked you? Jesus, I..." His voice trails off, searching for words he canít find because heís not thinking clearly and he canít believe whatís happening, or happened for that matter. Well, he can believe it, itís the not remembering part thatís bothering him.
Nick turns around, carefully as if he knows that any movement, even the slightest is enough to almost make Gregís head explode. And Gregís pretty sure that Nick does know that and that notion makes him feel even more guilty about forgetting about last night. He looks down, not meeting Nickís eyes and mumbles, "Iím sorry, I.."
The sound of Nick laughing softly makes him look up and seeing the amused glint in the other manís eyes, he realizes Nickís jerking his chain. He shakes his head, regrets doing that immediately and he squints his eyes at Nick. "I didnít fuck you, did I?"
Nick shakes his head. "You passed out before anything happened, Greg."
"Ass hole," Greg whispers.
Nick grins, still shaking his head. "You donít remember last night, do you?"
He doesnít, but for some reason he doesnít want to admit that. "We were at a party, and I drank a little too much. Not much more to it, I guess."
Nick nods slowly. "You sure about that?" When Greg doesnít answer him, he adds, "What was the party for, G?"
He knows that one. And if only Nick would stop staring at him, with his damn smug smile heíd be able to answer the question. "Birthday party." He guesses.
Nick nods again. "Whose birthday?"
Realizing it isnít so much Nickís staring, but the pounding of his head that makes thinking so fucking hard, he settles for another wild guess based solely on the lap dancing part. "Catherineís?"
Okay so Nick knows he has no idea, still he wonít confess to his apparent alcohol induced amnesia and he decides to take another stab at it. Because if it ainít Catherineís and knowing that it was Nickís birthday months ago, it canít be Grissomís either. That only leaves Warrick and Sara. They donít have a lot of other mutual friends, and certainly none that make him feel comfortable enough to get completely wasted. Not that heís ever going to do that again. Because alcohol. Bad. But the lap dancing. Sure as hell not Saraís party then. "Warrick."
"Took you long enough," Nick says, still smiling that same, irritatingly smug smile, and if Nick hadnít commented earlier on Gregís breath heíd kiss him just to wipe that smirk off his face.
"Yeah, well, lap dances arenít Saraís style, now are they?" Greg states, showing to Nick that he does know what went on last night. Sort of.
Nick shoots him a surprised look before laughing again. Out loud this time, causing Greg to wince at the pain shooting through his head.
Nick stops laughing immediately, reaches out to run his hand over Gregís cheek gently and says, "Sorry, Greg. Itís just...You remember the lap dancing?"
The look in Nickís eyes tells him heís missing something, he closes his eyes, trying to remember what exactly happened there. Someoneís lap. And heís dancing...Christ. He opens his eyes again, and whispers, "I did a lap dance?" Not really asking, because he already knows the answer.
"Yeah, you did."
Oh fuck. Greg groans. Doing a lap dance at Warrickís birthday party, could it get any more embarrassing? Well, doing a lap dance for Warrick would be worse. Double fuck. Maybe he did. "Tell me I wasnít doing one for Warrick."
Greg sighs with relief. Sara or Catherine he can handle, they already think heís weird. Not that Warrick doesnít. Or Grissom for that matter. Grissom. He groans again. "Grissom?" He whispers.
Nick chuckles softly and shakes his head. "No. And thanks for the image, man."
He rolls his eyes at Nick, but smiles as well. "Well, thank god for that."
"Maybe you should put off thanking god for a second, Greg."
"Why?" Greg glares at Nick, heís confused now, whatís the big deal with him doing a lap dance if it ainít for Grissom or Warrick. If only he could think straight, he would probably catch on a little faster. Or if Nick would just tell him. Nick. Oh hell.
He feels his face starting to flush and he opens his mouth, stuttering slightly when he says, "Oh christ, Nick, Iím sorry, I...." He raises one hand and hits himself over the head, groaning loudly at the sharp pain.
"Greg." Nick says, grabbing Gregís hand before it reaches his head once again. "Relax, itís okay, really."
"No, itís not, itís really not. Iím so sorry. I know you didnít want to tell anyone at work yet.." He shakes his head at his own stupidity. "But maybe theyíll just think I was really drunk and wonít think anything of it?" He asks, hoping that everybody will just chalk it up to him being crazy. Which would be one of the first times that peopleís perception of him would turn out to be a good thing.
The little flare of hope vanishes quickly when Nick shakes his head. "Sorry, Greg. But apart from you rubbing your crotch in my face," Nick smiles and blushes a little at the memory, "Apart from that, I think the countless ĎI love youísí kind of got the point across."
"What for? For telling me you love me or for shoving your crotch in my face?"
Greg smiles sheepishly. "Neither, actually. Just for doing that in a public place, I guess."
Nick grins at that and wraps his arm around Gregís waist, pulling him closer. "Well, it doesnít matter anymore, now does it?"
He takes a moment to think about that, realizing that he should probably be worrying about what the reactions to his actions were, instead he asks, "So, does that mean I can rub my dick in your face any time I want now?"
"I guess so," Nick says hesitantly, "Although Iím not sure that thatís the thing you should be focusing on right now, G."
Greg frowns. "What do you mean? Youíre saying the guys didnít react too well at my little public display of affection?"
Nick grins, running his hand over Gregís back and shaking his head. "No, G. Thatís not what Iím saying. Itís just that...." His voice trails off a little and he shrugs, adding, "All Iím saying is that last night you passed out on me.."
"Jesus, Greg. I think you killed a few too many brain cells last night, man." Nick says, smiling lazily. "Let me simplify it for you. I was horny. You passed out. Now youíre hung over and Iím...Just.. Donít." He pulls Greg closer, rubbing his groin against Greg to emphasize his point.
Greg gasps at the feeling of Nickís dick against his own. Makes him regret his drinking even more, but then again if he hadnít then they wouldnít be having this conversation. Holding back a groan at the thought of what they could be doing, he focuses on the fact that at least they wonít have to hide anymore. Even if it wasnít the classiest way to tell them. He smiles and leans over to kiss Nick, startled when Nick stops him. "What?"
"You still reek, dude."
"Fuck you, Nick." When Nick shakes his head at him, he shrugs, and briefly considers brushing his teeth, the thought of getting up not sounding that appealing, so instead he snuggles up to Nick, feeling Nickís arm tighten around him. Kissing can wait. Thereís time for that later. Among other things.