Title: What Greg Doesn't Know

Author: Cathy

Fandom: CSI - Crime Scene Investigation, slash

Pairing: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders

Rating: PG, just a kiss this time.

Status: New, complete, November 19, 2001

Archive: Any of the list archives, fine. Anyone else, please ask.

Feedback: Yes, please! Constructive criticisms welcomed as well as ego stroking.

E-mail address for feedback: dragnmuse@hotmail.com

Series/Sequel: None

Disclaimers: Tammy, and her bit part, are mine, all the others I've borrowed from CBS, William Peterson, Jerry Bruckheimer, and anyone else who own the copyright to the characters, dialog, story and pretty much everything. I make no profit from this, just having a good time.

Summary: Greg gets slowly fed up with trying to hide his feelings from Nick and with the other CSIs for treating him badly. Nick lets him know just where he stands.

Warnings/Notes:
Spoilers: Everything through 'Slaves of Las Vegas' is fair game.

Also, this is my first slash fic for mass consumption. Thanks a ton to ChildeOfDarla for pointing out my mistakes, answering all my questions, and being a great beta!

Greg left the room, shaking his head. Why had he said that about the wet suit again? And what had possessed him to shimmy up to Nick like that? What was he trying to do, make a pass at Nick? Well, that would be stupid, but for a moment, Greg allowed himself the luxury of imagining that he had, and that Nick had responded in kind. It was only a moment, but it was sweet moment. Nick's lips.... Nick's dimples....what was there not to like about Nick? Especially since he seemed to be the only CSI who cared what Greg thought. The others just saw him as a lab slave. Wait, a lab slave....that sent even more shivery thoughts through his mind.

*Nick, the Master, walks down the hall, his high black boots clicking on the tile floor. Greg, the Slave, peeks out the door of the lab, sees a flash of black as the Master comes closer. The door opens, and the Slave catches his breath. There stands the Master, clad in black jeans, black tee shirt and the tall black boots. The Slave wonders why he is not wearing leather, but then he realizes the Master carries his leather instead. He pulls a supple, slick, bullwhip from his hip and strokes it lightly. The Slave tries not to leer; that will only get him more punishment. The Master smiles evilly and flicks the whip. Do you have those DNA results yet, slave? Crack! How about the results of the blood? Crack! Got those fibers analyzed? Crack! The Slave feels his heart beat faster, his palms grow sweaty.....what will the Master--*

"Jesus, Sanders! Will you watch where you're going?" Greg was jolted out of his fantasy abruptly when he almost ran into Warrick.

"Sorry, mind on something else."

"Yeah, well, just watch your step," Warrick cautioned. Greg just nodded and kept walking, firmly turning his mind to the real work ahead.

****************************************

A couple of weeks later, it was Nick's turn to wander down to the lair where Greg spends his time. *Well, it's not really a lair, in fact it's not even dark.* Greg thought, but then it was more interesting to imagine it was a lair. After all, one of the definitions of lair is the den or hideout of a wild animal, and who was more like a wild animal than him?

Greg shook his head and came out of his reverie. The things one's mind will drift to when waiting for the printer to complete it's job. *And the things one will try to distract themselves with so that they aren't thinking about how good Nick looks. But then, Nick always looks good, so distracting oneself is a full time job around him.* The printer finally finished, and Greg looked closely at the results.

"Did you ever see Attack of the Killer Tomatoes?" he asked Nick. A quick glance, a meeting of eyes, and Greg looked back at the paper. "Cause there's something in your victim's blood that looks like one of those heirlooms."

Greg moved closer to show Nick what he meant. Nick glanced over, zeroed in on one bit of the information presented, and replied "Well, it's not pulling a spectra. It's not a chemical."

Another brief look at Nick, a fleeting thought about whether Nick even knew what the rest of the printout meant, then his eyes were back on the paper. "No, it's a large, ugly, globular mass. You know, it's probably a protein. Cause it's the largest mass of anything in the body..." He glanced up quickly to see if Nick was paying attention and saw he was nodding his head and considering. Then, realizing how his last statement sounded, Greg quickly amended it, "Cept organs of course," he said with a laugh.

Nick looked at him, his expression obliging, and said, "But it's foreign. How'd it get in there?"

Greg regarded Nick for a moment, wondering how he could possibly be asking that question. Then he realized Nick was just trying to jump ahead; but the process is half the fun. *I could definitely have some fun....* Greg thought. What he _said_ was, "Cart before the horse, Nick.First you identify it, _then_ you figure out where it came from." He walked over to a cabinet along the wall as he was talking. Reaching in, he pulled out a thick, black book. As he turned around, Nick said "I always thought you kept your porn in there."

Greg looked up at him, his mind racing. *Nick knows about my porn? Has he seen it, or does he just know? Does he know that the most ragged pages are those with the two guys and a girl, not just straight man and woman? Does he know what I think about him?* As he struggled to think of something to say, images flashing through his mind more than actual sentences, he realized Nick was joking. It was only a second before he responded "I move it around." He quickly looked down at the book, hoping that would be the end of the discussion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick nod in response.

"Now, this is a 66 kilodalton globular protein, composed of two disulfide-linked subunits, A and B." As Greg explained all this to Nick, desperately willing his mind to concentrate on the problem at hand, he walked over to pull a glass message board closer to the table.

Nick glanced up at him and said offhandedly, "Very impressive." He then picked up the book Greg had left behind and started to study the page. Maybe he would be able to cut to the chase, since it looked like Greg was going to take awhile.

Uncapping a dry erase pen, Greg turned to the message board. *Yeah? You should be impressed. Let me tell you why. Oh, and let's see if I can throw you off the scent at the same time.* "Yeah, I know what you all think of me. That I'm just another pretty face who got to where I am by sleeping with Catherine." As he said this, Greg began to draw on the board. After his last comment, he turned back to Nick, to see what the impression was.

Nick looked at him with a 'yeah-right' look on his face. Greg raised his eyebrows just slightly and turned back to the board. *Ok, he doesn't believe that, but he shouldn't. Think I threw him off though.* "But, seriously, Phi Beta Kappa, Stanford. Can I help it if I'm hip?" Greg waited to see Nick's reaction this time. It wasn't long in coming.

Without looking up from the book he was reading, Nick responded, "Yeah, yeah. Which one of your relatives got you in?"

"Full ride." *Take that! I know of what I speak.* Greg turned quickly to look back over his shoulder. He noticed that Nick wasn't really paying attention to him, and he chastised, pointing at the board, "Hey, eyes forward."

Nick put the book down and, placing his hands in his pockets, walked over to the board. Greg continued his explanation. "A and B chains link together to form a large, three dimensional structure of these beta sheets and helices."

Nick looked amused, but he studied the drawing all the same. Greg could really go on sometimes. "Translation?" he asked the teaching scientist.

"Wait!" Greg responded as he brushed past Nick to walk over and get a different book from the same cabinet.

Nick, still studying the drawing, surmised "You just drew the molecular structure of a foreign protein. A plant?"

"Correct. But more specifically, a lectin." Greg put the book on the table, and quickly opened to the right page. What he saw there made him gasp. "This is nastier than I thought." Nick looked over at his gasp, defiantly interested now, but a bit wary. Greg looked up from the book, meeting Nick's eyes. Answering the question he saw on Nick's face, he continued, "It's ricin, a biotoxin."

Nick was defiantly looking worried now. "Biotoxin?"

"Yeah." Greg turned back to the book to read more, while Nick turned back to the board, looking again at the drawing, trying to understand what he had just been told. Greg read from the manual, "B chain binds to glycocide residues, which trigger endocytotic uptake of the protein which internalizes the toxin and begins the irreversible effects...." As Greg got lost in the language, his voice trailed off and he found himself forgetting about his feelings for Nick.

As Greg read the passage, Nick came over and put his hand on Greg's shoulder, while making a hurry up motion with his other hand. His hand was only there for a second, but Greg could feel the spot as if it burned. Nick was very worried as he said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop now." As Greg looked up from the book, his full attention on Nick, Nick continued, "Biotoxin? As in anthrax, smallpox? I was at that crime scene for eight hours man."

Greg saw Nick was concerned, but he was pretty sure there was no reason to be. "Relax man." Still, he wasn't positive, and he couldn't bring himself to look Nick in the eye as he continued, "It takes like two hours for ricin symptoms to show, and like 48 more to kill you."

He was looking in the book again, as Nick laughed, a bit panicky, and asked, "What kind of symptoms are we talking about here?"

Greg looked up at him and then quickly back the book. "Um...." finding the correct spot, Greg said, "Sweats?"

He looked up to see Nick shake his head "no."

Still looking at Nick, he started to list the symptoms of Ricin poisoning. "Cramps?"

"No."

"Convulsions?"

A shake of the head and "Mm-mm." *Oh, good about the ricin poisoning. But, convulsions? I could give you some convulsions.*

'Then you're fine." Greg smiled, and taking a chance, reached out and patted Nick on the shoulder. He turned back to the book for more info. "And where did you say this woman worked?"

Nick walked back over towards the board again, as he said "Western States Historical Society." He looked at the board for a few more moments and then turned back to Greg. "Hey, I gotta go to Grissom on this one. You'll have your report for us soon?"

Greg looked up from the book again. "You CSIs want everything in a hurry. But, yeah, give me 15 minutes. Good?" *I'd take more than 15 if you were my captive audience."

Nick nodded and headed out the door, looking for Grissom. Greg just shook his head.

****************************************

When his shift was over that morning, Greg packed up and headed out the door. As he left, he passed the temp receptionist at the front desk. She was cute, but that was the extent of what Greg noticed. His mind was still on Nick.

A few minutes later, he heard someone running behind him. He turned and saw the temp coming towards him. She looked *good* running and Greg couldn't help but smile.

She stopped when she reached him as stuck out her hand. "Greg, right? I'm Tammy."

"Yeah, Greg. Nice to meet you. How's the job going?"

Tammy smiled. "Good, everyone is nice. Don't know if I can stay with the night shift, but it is ok so far. Would you like to get a coffee, or something?"

Greg's grin grew wider as he said, "Ther's a little diner across the street. You want to grab some breakfast?"

Tammy smiled back. "I would like that."

Greg enjoyed breakfast. Tammy was the kind of woman he usually went for. Cute and not afraid to speak her mind. She made him laugh, and laughed at his jokes. But, this time, he just didn't feel the magic he was supposed to feel. His mind kept drifting back to the look on Nick's face when he'd said "Biotoxin?" Why couldn't he focus on the great woman sitting right in front of him? A woman who obviously liked him, and who had stopped talking. In fact, she was studying him, with her head tilted slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said, coming back to the present. "I missed what you said just now."

Tammy smiled. "Yeah, I think you missed the whole conversation, pretty much. Who is she?"

Greg started. "I'm sorry?"

"The girl you keep thinking about."

"I'm not thinking about any girl. Just thinking about work."

"Oh," she said. Then, her face changed, as if she had just realized something. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were thinking about a guy."

Greg was studying his coffee, but looked up abruptly at her comment. "What? No, not a guy. No, of course not." He laughed, trying to blow it off.

Tammy nodded her head. "You can deny it all you want, but you got that wistful look on your face. I've seen my friends with that look so many times, I recognize it. You have someone on your mind. Someone who consumes your thoughts, and not in a 'they're just a friend' way."

Greg grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, you're right. I do keep thinking of someone, but that doesn'tmean I don't like you."

"Yeah, that was obvious. But, it is ok if you don't want to talk about it. I'm cool with it. One of my best friends is gay."

Greg looked at her. "I'm not gay." He said, firmly.

"Greg, I'm not trying to offend you. No, you don't give off the same vibes as my friend. Or rather, you give off the vibes all straight guys do to girls, that my friend doesn't. Are you sure you're not bisexual?"

"Who said I was thinking about a guy?"

"Weren't you?"

Greg looked sheepish again. "Yeah, I guess I was. You know, I never thought about the being bisexual before."

"Really?" She looked skeptical.

"Really. I guess I just didn't want to admit it to myself. Maybe if I ignored it, or tried to stop thinking about it, it would go away, you know?"

"Would you have sex with me if I told you you could?"

Greg almost spit his coffee. "What!?! I'm not that kind of guy."

Tammy smiled knowingly. "You've got it bad for this guy. I mean what guy would turn down an offer like that? Especially after confiding something that big to the girl. Most would think that it was a great thing."

Greg turned crimson. Tammy reached across the table and tilted his chin up with one finger. She met his eyes and asked, "So, who is he?"

When Greg didn't reply, she continued. "Do you want me to guess? ...No response.... Ok, Warrick Brown." Greg scoffed.

"Ok, not Warrick. I also don't think it is Gil Grissom. Too much of a father figure there. Oh, see I've hit the nail on that one." She took a sip of her coffee, and Greg stared at her, incredulous.

"Are you psychic, woman?"

"No, just observant of your reactions. Ok, so I don't get the feeling it is any of the guys who work in the lab with you, so that
leaves Nick Stokes." Greg tried desperately to hide his response this time, but that is probably what she noticed more.

"Ah, so the answer comes out. He is cute, isn't he? Quite a hunk, actually. Good choice."

Greg looked up at her and grinned. She smiled back. Then, she took a $5 out of her purse and laid it on the table.

"My lips are sealed, and I promise not to play matchmaker. I'll see you tonight, Greg. Have a great day, and sweet dreams." She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Greg just looked into his coffee and shook his head. *Wow. What a woman. Defiantly an ally, should I need one in the future.*

****************************************

True to her word, Tammy didn't play matchmaker. She and Greg talked occasionally over the next week. Usually when Greg needed a break he could be found at the front desk.

About a week after the dead woman at the historical society, a woman was found buried in a sandbox. A very interesting case, that only looked like it would get more so. Greg was feeling a bit left out and gruff with the CSIs when he decided to work on one piece of evidence that Grissom had brought in. He was managing not to grumble to himself, but just barely.

He had just started to process the sliver for analyzing, when Nick walked in. *Great. Just what I need.*

"What up Einstein?" Nick asked as he walked over to Nick. *Einstein?* Nick bent over and looked at the sample Greg was preparing. "Ooh, you got anything there?"

With Nick hovering over his shoulder, Greg's shoulders drooped slightly and he looked up at Nick sharply. *I'm going to wring this guy's neck. Even though he is cute.* "Do you think Einstein had people hovering over his shoulders all the time?"

Nick backed up a bit and shook his head, a bit taken aback at the edge in Greg's voice. "If he did do you think that we'd be walking around with E=MC squared t-shirts?" Greg continued. Nick again shook his head and stood up. Greg turned back to the sample, and continued his grinding.

Once more, Nick leaned close, practically breathing in Greg's ear. *Oh, that would be nice if I wasn't trying to work here! Or, if I was sure you meant it and not just wanted me to give you an answer.*

Exasperated, Greg looked up. "Would you step back? Just give me some breathing room? Maybe I'll tell you something about the silver sliver that Grissom found on Sandbox Girl's back." *Yeah, or punch you!*

Nick finally looked contrite and stepped back. Nodding slightly, he said, "It's all yours."

Greg took a drop of the solution containing the ground up sliver, placed it on a test swab, then loaded it into a machine. Careful not to piss Greg off more, Nick still leaned closer, watching as Greg prepared the sample. Greg looked back over his shoulder, but didn't say anything as Nick kept at least a little distance.

The machine started, generating a graph on the monitor in front of them. Greg said, "Let's see what the library has to say." He compared the graph from the sample against the ones in the database and the machine beeped when it found a match. "Hm. Tempered steel with aluminum coating."

Nick leaned in to look at the reading on the screen. "Maybe she was chained up." he theorized.

Greg spun his chair to face Nick as he said, "If she was, she was wearing something pretty funky."

"She was in the raw," Nick explained.

"Yeah, in a matter of speaking. Remember that sparkly stuff that Grissom got off her body?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I broke it down. Tree sap, ammonia, and water."

"Sounds like frat house gravy," Nick said, not really understanding where Greg was going with this.

"Liquid Latex." Greg smirked knowingly.

Nick shook his head slightly. "Never heard of it."

Greg looked at him, incredulously. "Really? It's all the craze right now, man." Nick gave him a disbelieving look.

Greg continued, "Girls paint it on guys. Guys paint it on girls. You can paint it on yourself if you want.... If that's what you're
into.... Can't get a date."

Nick looked at him, smiling. "I got it."

"Not like I would know." Greg tried to look smug as he spun his chair back to the other way. *Yeah, I had a date just a week ago. She ended up figuring out I like you, but hey.*

As Nick turned to leave he said, "Sure, sure, I got it man."

Greg just watched him leave. *Maybe I went a bit too far there again. Don't get me started talking about rubber. First wet suits, now liquid latex. What am I going to do with myself?*

Shaking his head, Greg went back to work.

****************************************

The next morning, after his shift, Nick headed down to the lab. "Hey, Greg!" he called, as he opened the door to the lab.

Greg sighed and looked up from the bag he was packing. "No."

"No?" Nick looked a little taken aback.

"No. The evidence is processed, reports turned in; my shift is over. I'm going home. So, no." He zipped the back shut and slung it onto his back.

"Hey, man. No reason to get hostile." Nick held up his hands in surrender.

"Yeah, maybe there is. You CSIs come down here all righteous and indignant. As if I was the guy who killed your vic. You want me to do my part faster. You want me be to be able to look at it and tell you the answers right away. Until it is processed, it is just blood, or a sliver of silver. I can do a lot of things, but I'm not a miracle worker." Greg took a deep breath before continuing. "Nor am I a slave, or an automaton. I have a life beyond these walls, and I don't appreciate being viewed as just a means to an end. Did you once stop to consider I might be of even more help to you as a human being? No, cause you just storm down here and then storm out again if I don't have what you want. Or worse, discount me, as if I were a child, or..or brush me off like an annoying fly. So, no, I won't do anymore, just now. I'm going home." He glared at Nick and turned to leave.

Nick reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait a minute now, man." He applied enough pressure that Greg was forced to turn back around.

"Let go of me, Nick." Greg glared at him again, even more angry this time.

"Ok." Nick dropped his hand, but didn't move away. "You, know, I didn't come down here to get yelled at-"

"Then turn around and leave, cause I've got lots more to say, but _you_ don't want to get yelled at."

Nick looked pensive. "No, I don't think I will. Why I came down here doesn't matter now. But, since I _am_ here, I figure I'm going to say my piece. No, don't start talking again, it is my turn." Greg slid the bag off his shoulder and set it on the counter. He could see this would take a couple of minutes.

Nick took a deep breath himself and squared his shoulders before continuing. "You say we only want data from you and that we don't see you as a person. If that is the case, then why don't you just stay away from us, if we piss you off that much? Because you can't, and I think I know why. At first I thought you were a CSI wanna-be. You want to be a part of the investigation. Maybe you resent our being the ones to go collect the evidence from the scene. Whatever." He paused a moment, searching to see if he was making an impression on Greg.

When Greg said nothing, Nick continued, "Then, I thought it was just that you wanted to be near Catherine. That certainly looked like what you wanted us to believe. But, it goes deeper than that. I realized that Catherine isn't the one you spend the most time with. So, I figured you couldn't stay away cause of Grissom. You want to be accepted by him and seek him out when you have the choicest pieces of info. You really want him to acknowledge you, to say 'thank you', just once. Well, I'll admit that he's a hard ass, and that I want the same approval myself."

At Greg's shocked look, Nick continued. "Yeah, hard to believe, isn't it? The big, bad Gil Grissom can have that affect on a lot of people. He won't let anyone close, and pushes away those he needs most at times. But, as true as that is, it is really irrelevant, because I don't think that fully explains why you spend so much time around us either."

Nick looked at Greg, to see if his last words had made an impression. Greg was tightlipped, not saying anything, but not running away either. His mind was a blank, trying intensely to think of something to say to get him out of there, but coming up empty.

Nick continued, "So, I started watching you. You know, it's part of my job to notice the details, the body language of others. I'm paid to look for the little things, the one clue that will break the case wide open. I'm trained to notice everything, especially the things that the observed most wants to keep hidden. So, I noticed things about you. I noticed your desire of approval from Grissom, like I said before. But, it's not just Grissom you want approval from is it?"

Greg looked at him, disbelief obvious on his face. "What are you talking about?" He asked, desperately hoping that Nick was done. *Please let this be the end. He can't know. He just can't have seen it.....*

Nick stepped even closer, looked right into Greg's eyes. "It's me, isn't it? You want something from me. Approval certainly, but I'm thinking maybe even more than that."

Greg swallowed, his panic button fully hit with Nick's last words. He was afraid he would faint; he didn't seem to be getting enough air. He carefully took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice from shaking as he replied. "You have a very high opinion of yourself, don't you Nick? I'm surprised your ego hasn't done you in already." He took a step back, desperate to get out from under that piercing stare, but found himself up against the counter.

Nick studied Greg, in effect pinning him to the counter with the gaze. After a moment, he spoke. "My ego may be part of it, but I know I'm on to something, aren't I? If I wasn't, you would have been able to keep a straight face just now, and there wouldn't have been that tremor in your voice. What is it you want Greg? My approval? You have it. Yo're so much better at the science than I'll ever be. You're smart, you prove that to me all the time. I've even defended you against the others on occasion. Just a week or so ago, I told Catherine that she shouldn't be so hard on you, you just want to be included more. Even though you didn't know that, how could you not see that you have gotten through to me, Greg?" He paused, again searching Greg's face. Greg just stared back at him, rooted to the spot. He looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights: totally scared, but unable to run; unable to move at all.

Nick took a chance and raised his hand. He brushed his thumb over Greg's lower lip, and dropping his voice to almost a whisper, said, "You got through to me as a scientist, Greg. I see you as the valuable asset you are. But, that isn't all you want, is it? No, there's something else." Nick shifted his hand to the side of Greg's face and leaned in closer. He lightly pressed his lips to Greg's and, when Greg didn't pull away, pressed harder.

Greg's head was spinning. First he couldn't believe that Nick had figured him out, and now, Nick was kissing him. _Really_ kissing him. Almost before he realized he was doing it, he was kissing Nick back. He let go of his death grip on the counter behind him and slowly put his arms around the man in front of him. Nick responded by kissing him harder and dropping his hand from Greg's face to put his arms tight Greg instead. Greg leaned into Nick's arms, his senses reeling at the feel of Nick's lips on his. Hard and yet soft at the same time, he was just getting used to the feeling, when he felt Nick's tongue gently pushing between his lips. He heard a moan and realized it must have come from him as he opened his mouth to the probing. As their tongues slid over each other, fast and hard and then slow and soft, Greg felt Nick's hands running over his back. Greg trailed his own hands over broad shoulders, and felt Nick inhale deeply, before burying his hands in Greg's hair.

Another moan came from Greg as Nick pulled him closer, holding his head firmly, demanding full access to his mouth. Greg gave it gladly, holding onto Nick, afraid that if he let go he would fall. He felt Nick take a slight step forward, pinning him against the counter, pressing him into the edge. Greg felt his tongue pulled into Nick's mouth, sucked in lightly, as lower down, Nick pressed his hips against Greg. Greg felt his head spinning and knew that he would have fallen if not for Nick holding him up. He reeled under the dual assault of the suction on his tongue, and the hardness against his pelvis, which made him aware of his body reacting the same way.

Suddenly, Nick released him and stepped back. Greg grabbed for the counter again, holding himself up. He looked up and met Nick's eyes, saw the dilated pupils and quick swallow.

Nick smiled and then leaned in again to brush his lips against Greg's, quickly. He straightened up and said, "Don't give up on us
CSIs, Greg. Even if the other's don't tell you so, know that I need you."

Nick walked past Greg and went to open the door. Turning the handle he opened it part of the way. Just before walking through, he paused, and turned back to look at Greg again, still standing holding onto the counter. "I need you, Greg," he said, barely above a whisper, although to Greg it sounded like thunder. As did the door shutting softly behind him.

The End