"Hey,” Nick waved awkwardly. Greg grinned half-heartedly.|
“So, uh…how’s swing shift?” he asked Nick, attempting to sound casual.
“It’s…good. Strange, y’know? Starts at 4 pm which is really…different.” Greg nodded, silently. Nick cleared his throat. “But you know, it’s kinda cool…to be able to sleep for most of the night. Shift ends at midnight.” He coughed. “Your lunch.”
“I know,” Greg said simply. “So…you miss graveyard?” he asked. Nick cringed at Greg’s flat tone.
“G. Seriously, what-”
Greg shrugged his shoulders. “You miss me?” he asked, keeping it short and simple. That was the thing about Greg. He wasn’t good at complicating things, sugaring things ups. Greg wasn’t fake. Greg was just…Greg.
But that’s what ended up complicated everything. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have cared. What if he had been dating Sarah? But Sarah wasn’t Greg, and here Greg was, not to mention Nick was confusing the hell out of himself. “Yeah. I miss you.” He said quickly, darting a look around the break room. “But we still talk, man. You, me, and War-”
“Not talking about Warrick. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah I know.”
“So?” Nick raked his fingers through his hair.
“I miss it, G. But you know…our jobs…”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, I guess we should talk about it?”
“I guess we should.”
Except they were both guys, and guys didn’t really talk. Sure, Nick and Greg would chat about the game for a couple of hours, but that wasn’t ‘talking’. Talking was a girl thing, Nick figured. Girls always wanted to talk about things. A bitch of a thing, really, this ‘heart-to-heart’ talking concept. Greg was more into it than he was, but he still wasn’t the Dr. Phil type. And the thing about Greg was that although he wouldn’t hide who he was, he wouldn’t force it onto Nick either. Greg was Greg, and Nick was Nick, and they were both guys who used to date. They had sex a couple (or more) times, kissed (which went with the sex), and ‘chatted’. But they never actually talked. Why would they need to? They worked together.
Correction: They used to work together.
“Interesting talk, Nick,” Greg joked, breaking into Nick’s muddled and incoherent thoughts. Nick flushed.
“Yeah, man, sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”
“Make sure Griss—Catherine doesn’t know. She might be a tad rattled to have some mindless Dallasian on her shift.” Nick blinked.
Greg blinked back. “Yeah. Dallasian. You know, someone from Dallas?”
“Yeah, I know, G. But since when was that a word?”
“Since I said so?” he grinned cheekily. Nick snorted.
“Greg Webster, are you?”
“A man of many talents, am I.”
Nick flushed, involuntarily. He could even remember a few of those talent that, ah, would rattle Grissom…or rather Catherine’s skin. “So, I really should head home. Past midnight, and I don’t need to put in overtime so…” Greg nodded.
“See you around, maybe?” he asked, suddenly sounding a little desperate. Nick gulped at the question.
“Yeah, I mean, I’ll try, Greg. It’s just…” Greg chuckled.
And he did. Because he was Greg and Nick was Nick and they were Nick and Greg.
It was just that simple.