New York is nothing like he remembers.|
It's harsh and cold, the bright lights and vibrant excitement he remembers replaced by dark streets and hollow emptiness. And it's snowing. Tiny flakes of white falling from murky grey sky, turning to slush the second they hit the ground, blanketing the landscape until the earth and the sky become indistinguishable.
He misses Vegas.
Technically, it's only been a day, but he has four more to get through and all he really wants to do is go home. It would probably be funny, if he wasn't so miserable, because a few years ago he would have jumped at the chance to spend a week in New York City, even if it was just for a course. But that was before, now the thought of spending a week sleeping alone just reminds him of how lonely a city can be.
It wouldn't be half as bad if Nick worked days, or if his courses were at night, but as it stands by the time he gets back to the hotel, Nick's at work, and by the time Nick finishes for the day, Greg's in class. It's frustrating, because he's used to seeing Nick, used to talking to Nick every day and a week apart with no communication is like going through withdrawal. He hates it.
It takes effort to walk away from the window, turning his back on the sight of the city sprawled out before him. The room's bed is two sizes too big, the sheets stiff and cold and he knows it'll be a while before he finally succumbs to sleep. He thinks he should be excited, because he's wanted this for longer than he can remember. The chance to finally become a CSI, to get out of the lab and into the field, and he knows this course will help him get there. But the days drag and he finds himself counting down minutes, impatient to get home.
He wakes to soft light filtering through his window and remembers that he forgot to close the curtains. He blinks, something nagging in the back of his head until he realizes what woke him up. His cell phone. It takes him a moment to find it; buried beneath yesterday's clothes and by the time he answers, he half expects the person on the other side of the line to have hung up.
"Yeah?" he says, but his voice is thick with sleep and he's fairly certain it comes out more like a growl.
"Good morning to you too." Nick's voice is light, teasing almost and Greg can practically see him smiling. "And here I was worried I'd miss you."
It takes Greg a moment to process the words, but once he does he glances at the room's alarm clock, groaning at the time and cursing himself for oversleeping.
"Gotta go?" Nick finishes and Greg nods before he realizes Nick can't see him.
"It's okay, I'll see you on Friday," Nick replies, still sounding amused and Greg wants to comment, but before he can, Nick's voice is replaced by dial tone.
This is officially the most boring thing he's ever done.
Even six classes a day during college was nothing compared to this. He knows procedure is important, but certainly not *this* important. His only consolation is that the rest of the class looks as unimpressed as he does, so at least he's not the only one. Still, it doesn't prevent him from nodding off several times, only to be woken by a sharp elbow from the girl sitting next to him. Apparently he snores, who knew. He'll have to ask Nick about that one.
By the time lunch rolls around, Greg's fairly certain he's lost several brain cells. It doesn't help that he's spent the majority of the morning thinking about the fact that Nick actually called. He can't even say why, but he wasn't expecting it. And sure, he knows Nick cares, and he knows Nick will miss him, but he never once expected Nick to say anything.
It gave him something to concentrate on besides the dull droning of the instructor, anyway, so maybe he should be thanking Nick. He's half tempted to call Nick back during the break, but he knows Nick will be sleeping and Nick barely gets enough sleep as it is. Greg can sympathize; he spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, waking up and looking for someone that wasn't there. He's been yawning pretty much non-stop since he woke up and he has a feeling he's going to be completely burnt out by the time the day ends.
He should have brought a dildo.
He considered it, even mentioned it, but Nick had given him an unimpressed look that Greg was fairly certain masked jealous, so he decided against it. He's still not certain why Nick would feel threatened by a little piece of sculpted latex, and now that he's thinking about it he knows he should have just ignored Nick and brought it anyway. It would have come in handy.
He tells himself he can do without, but no matter how he angles his hand, his fingers just aren't good enough. They don't reach deep enough and they're nowhere near wide enough. It's nothing like the real thing and once again Greg wants nothing more than to go home. At least if he were home Nick would be standing behind him, moving inside him and no matter how hard he tries to picture it, it's never as good as he knows it could be.
Besides, alone he's fairly certain he looks ridiculous: standing in the shower, water beating over his head, his legs splayed as wide as possible with two fingers sliding in and out of his body and his other hand wrapped around his cock. Not that there's anyone watching, but as soon as he thinks it, Nick's sitting on the toilet seat, peering around the curtain and watching Greg get off. The visual certainly helps and Greg actually moans Nick's name as he strokes once, once more before coming against the shower wall.
He tells himself it means something, that if he can make it through today, he'll be that much closer to going home. He can't even pinpoint when he got so used to having Nick around, or when he became so needy for Nick's presence and part of him thinks he should be at least a little embarrassed. Except he's not, because he's been in love with Nick for longer than he can remember and now that he finally has Nick, the last thing he wants to do is leave for a week so Nick can remember just how nice it is to have his own space.
He keeps picturing getting off the plane and wandering around an empty airport. Picturing Nick deciding he's better off without Greg in his life and even though Greg knows the thought is ridiculous, it doesn't stop him from almost breaking his rule and calling Nick in the middle of the day. He doesn't, but only because all the phones are occupied and he doesn't feel like waiting around to use one. It makes him strangely glad that he left his cell phone in his room.
He ducked out early.
He feels slightly bad for that, but this not talking to Nick thing is starting to drive him crazy and he knows this is the only way he'll catch Nick before he leaves for work. It doesn't stop him from feeling slightly nervous as he listens to the sound of endless rings. Nor does it stop the slight fluttering of his heart when Nick finally answers, sounding slightly breathless and Greg can't help but wonder what he was doing.
"Is this a bad time?"
"Hey. No, I was just in the shower," Nick replies and Greg instantly relaxes.
"Does this mean you're naked?" Greg questions, sinking down onto the bed, a soft smile playing across his face.
"Is that all you think about?" Nick asks, laughing softly and Greg can hear him rustling around on the other side of the line.
"Yeah, pretty much. So are you?"
He can almost picture it: wet hair plastered against Nick's skull, beads of water trailing down his chest, a loosely draped towel sitting on his hips. The sight's enough to make Greg instantly hard.
"Come on, G, you know I don't answer my phone in the buff. I'm wearing a towel," Nick finally answers, laughing when Greg moans into the phone.
The rest of the conversation consists mostly of updates, some mild flirting and confirmation, that yes, Nick will be picking him up. It doesn't last nearly long enough and way too soon Greg's once again listening to a dial tone and mentally repeating, two days.
He woke to a message on his cell phone. From Nick. Explaining he won't be around much and not to bother calling. Greg's pretty much spent the entire morning freaking out.
It's making it impossible to concentrate on anything the instructor's saying. He's fairly certain he can live without knowing the proper procedure for suspect interviews. He'll get the hang of it, he's always been a watch and learn and kind of guy.
He hasn't eaten, mostly because every time he tries, he hears Nick's message, playing over and over again in his head until it makes him nauseous. He even tried calling Nick --at home and on his cell. He went so far as to page Nick at work, but so far, nothing. He still can't figure out what Nick meant by 'won't be around much' since he sounded fine the last time Greg spoke to him. And maybe Nick really is just busy. Or maybe yesterday Nick was just humouring him and by the time Greg gets back, Nick's not going to want anything to do with him.
No one told him there'd be a test.
And okay, technically it's just a quiz, but it's not like he's had time to prepare. And he hasn't exactly been paying attention today, because all he can concentrate on is Nick's message and exactly what Nick's doing that requires him to be away from a phone for a couple of days.
But he can do this, because he's heard Nick talk about it enough and he's been out in the field a handful of times. And okay, maybe he doesn't know the brand of standard print powder they use, but that hardly seems relevant. It's always there, right in his case and when he runs out, he just gets more from Grissom. And even if he did want to know the brand, he's pretty sure Grissom just orders it from someone else and they're the ones to decide.
He's not sure what's worse, the tediousness of becoming a CSI or the thought of having to find an apartment when he gets back to Vegas. He's pretty sure Nick's not going to let him stay in their house.
It takes him twenty minutes to get from the conference centre to the hotel. Twenty minutes of calling Nick at every number he has and by the time Greg makes it to his room, he's convinced Nick's broken up with him or will break up with him once he gets back from wherever he is and discovers Greg's become a stalker.
There are no new messages on his phone, or the room's phone and Greg finds himself sinking into the bed, telling himself he's just being paranoid and what he should be doing is heading out on the town. Enjoying some of the sights and nightlife New York has to offer. It's certainly better than sitting here alone all night or jerking off in the shower while picturing his potential ex-boyfriend.
As soon as he thinks it he's standing, changing into something a little more club like and trying to remember what he used to do the last time he was here. He knows of a few clubs, but he's pretty sure he'll either be too old for them now, or they'll be completely gone. He can always ask at the front desk, so he grabs his room key, transfers his wallet and cash into his new jeans and heads out the door.
He's not staring.
And he certainly doesn't look like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Except he is, and he does, and he has no idea what to say.
"You going somewhere?" Nick asks, taking in Greg's clothes and his smile fades just a little bit.
"Nick? What... what are you doing here?" Greg finally manages, still doing his impersonation of a fish and when Nick smiles and shrugs, Greg remembers that he's actually capable of moving.
His room key lands somewhere on the floor, falling from his grasp as he closes the distance between them, practically wrapping himself around Nick and fusing their lips together.
"I... thought... you... were..." he mumbles between kisses, earning a laugh and the feel of Nick's hands sliding through his hair.
"Um... surprise?" Nick says when they break apart, his lips nicely swollen and it takes all of Greg's willpower to pull away and bend over to retrieve the room key.
"You can say that again," Greg answers, unlocking the door and pushing Nick inside before following behind. "Seriously, what are you doing here?" he asks once the door is shut behind them.
"I took a couple days off. Plus, you forgot this," Nick replies, reaching into the bag on his shoulder and pulling out Greg's neon blue dildo.
If someone told him this was happening, he probably wouldn't believe them. But seeing Nick, shifting just a little on the balls of his feet, flushed a brilliant shade of red and holding an actual sex toy is enough to convince Greg it is really happening. For a moment, he's so stunned he doesn't know what to do, but then Nick's expression shifts from mild embarrassment to actual discomfort and Greg forces himself forward.
Right back into Nick's arms, pushing until they tumble down onto the mattress, Greg's dildo sliding from Nick's hand and landing somewhere on the bed. It doesn't matter, though, because Greg has the real thing and he'll take Nick over latex any day of the week.
He's starting to rethink that whole latex thing.
Because Nick's been here for three hours and they haven't once left the bed. Haven't bothered getting dressed or even eating diner. Nick's already working Greg up to his fourth orgasm of the night and Greg's fairly certain he's going to have to skip the morning lectures. He has a feeling it might end up being the entire day because he's fairly certain he's never going to be able to sit down again.
It's worth it, though, seeing the look of concentration on Nick's face as he slides the dildo in and out, his pace slow enough to drive Greg crazy but fast enough to keep him right on the edge of yet another orgasm.
He doesn't even care that he's begging, because he knows Nick's not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. He did come all the way to New York, after all, taking time off work and risking rumours to do it. That alone tells Greg pretty much all he's ever needed to know.
It even makes waiting out Nick's slow form of torture worthwhile. Well, almost, because as soon as he thinks it Nick's sliding the dildo out and setting it aside. Greg's halfway to asking him what the hell he thinks he doing when Nick kneels between his legs, lining himself up and sliding into Greg in one long thrust. Greg swallows his words, along with a moan as he wraps his legs around Nick's waist, pulling him impossibly deeper until Greg can feel him everywhere.
Nick's eyes are shut, long black lashes fluttering against his skin and Greg wants to ask his him to open them. He gets out a choked off groan, halfway between words and a whimper, but before he can clarify, Nick's blindly seeking him out, wrapping his hands around Greg's cock and stroking until Greg's seeing stars, coming between them, his own eyes closing so it really doesn't matter than Nick's eyes aren't open.
He feels Nick still a moment later, shuddering through his own orgasm and when Greg reopens his eyes, Nick's staring at him, something close to bliss flickering across his face and Greg finds himself smiling. It lasts only a moment and then Nick's pulling free, Greg's body tensing in protest and when Nick collapses next to him on the bed, Greg stretches out his legs and rethinks his decision to ever leave this bed. He's pretty sure he's not going to be capable of walking for days.
"Fuck," Nick mumbles beside him, groaning something close to exhaustion and Greg can't help but laugh.
"Mmm, I'll say," Greg comments, earning a laugh and a playful swat against his arm.
He doesn't really want to leave New York.
It's funny, when he thinks about it, how much he didn't want to be here and how much he doesn't want to leave. The last day of classes passed quickly enough and he spent the night showing Nick the town. Touring Nick around places Greg barely remembered, but they were together, at times walking hand in hand and Greg can't ever remember doing that in Vegas.
And when the sky broke, snow falling into the space between them, Nick kissed him. Right out in the open where anyone could see and Greg knew he'd never do that back home.
So he doesn't want to leave.
And when the plane takes off, the change in pressure popping his ears, Greg watches it all vanish behind him, disappearing over the horizon. And when Nick's hand lands on his leg, Greg glances over, sees Nick smiling and thinks maybe going home isn't so bad after all.