Title: A Dream is...
Summary: A powerful feeling brings two people together just at the right time...
***Just a Dream...?
Greg awoke with a start, breath panted unsteadily into the darkened room. He sat up, lifting a hand to run over his face and through his hair as he glanced around the room, at the light seeping in from around his dark curtains, to the glow of the digital clock by his bedside. To the side of it his phone sat, silent and innocent, and he grabbed at it, staring at the illuminated display. Taking another shaky breath he flipped it open and quickly selected a number, and waited.
"Stokes." A muffled voice said on the other end, and Greg felt a stab of guilt at waking his friend before his anxiety returned, surging through him and making his voice waver.
"Nick, are you ok?"
A pause on the other end and Greg could picture Nick frowning and glancing at the clock. He heard bedsprings shifting as the other man sat up.
"Greg, is that you?" Greg nodded before remembering that Nick couldn't see the gesture. He blinked instead, trying to calm his rattled nerves.
"Yes, I'm sorry to wake you I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realising he didn't know how to explain his call. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok." I wanted to hear your voice...
"I'm fine Greggo. Are you ok?"
Greg smiled despite himself, allowing the soft tones of his friends voice lull him, relaxing the edges of his panic until only a dull ache remained, a familiar and somewhat welcomed feeling. He loosened his grip on the phone and shrugged.
"I'm fine..."He paused, searching for something to say... "The case today, it just got to me more than I thought it had." He explained, knowing Nick would understand.
"Yeah, of course. Do you wanna come over, hang out for a while?"
Tipping his head back, Greg allowed himself to groan quietly before quickly shaking his head.
"No, no. You go back to sleep and I'll see you at work."
"I'm positive." Greg could already here the lures of sleep pulling at the edges of Nick's words, his tone soft and comforting. Greg lay back down, trying to curb the feelings swelling inside him that talking to Nick while in bed produced. It was a heady rush, drawing up vivid imaginings from fantasies that he quickly quashed, feeling his face heat uncomfortably. He realised with a start that Nick was talking to him.
"...If you need anything G, I'm here ok." Greg squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to answer.
"I know." And I'm here for you, his mind whispered...any time, any place, I'm yours. He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to let the words that he'd thought so often drift out into the open, but then Nick was saying goodnight and he was doing the same, clicking the phone shut and clutching it to his chest as he gazed up at the shadowed ceiling.
Arriving at the break room just in time to grab a cup of coffee before assignments were handed out, Greg was grateful that no one questioned the dark circles under his eyes or the harried look in his gaze. He rubbed his face, avoiding Nick's stare as he followed him out to the Denali, kit in hand, to respond to their 419.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Greg gazed out of the window, feeling awkward. His neck ached from keeping it turned away, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Nick. He felt juddery, like prickles of electricity were sparking beneath his skin, and he feared what would happen if Nick were to ask him what was wrong. He didn't know what would come out, and a touch from the other man might just open a flood gate of emotion that Greg wasn't ready to let out. Despite this, he could feel Nick's eyes on him, and the feeling pulled at his senses until Greg felt as if his body was caught in a sensual tug of war, his muscles tense and aching.
"Yesterdays case still bothering you?" He heard Nick ask but his voice sounded far away, unclear in the fog of Greg's thoughts. Images flashed through his mind, a burst of flames and the shattering of glass, a box with the corpse of a dog, the grimy, sticky floor of a darkened alleyway, the smell of decay and blood assaulting his nose. He coughed, sitting back a little too quickly to seem casual, and glanced sideways at Nick. He opened his mouth to speak, searching inside him for the wit that was his trademark, the flash of a smile. But both faltered before he could catch himself, and he ended up shrugging helplessly.
"I'm just tired." He admitted quietly, gazing in front of him at the flashing lights of The Stip rolling over the car. Nick nodded and turned into a large parking lot lined with silent palm trees, parking the car and turning to his companion.
"What happened last night, man?" He asked, his gaze burning like a brand into the side of Greg's face. Greg frowned and shrugged, stalling for time, and was grateful when they were interrupted by a tap on the window. Seeing Brass waiting there, an expectant expression on his hardened face, both men climbed out of the car and joined him.
"Male DB..." The detective explained, gesturing behind him at the darkened building, looking small and out of place against the backdrop of lights and towering hotels.
"ID'ed as Simon Lansing, assistant manager of Sam's Diner who was, according to the young lady who found him, closing up after a late rush. She returned to retrieve her jacket and found him lying in a pool of blood behind the counter." Brass explained, grimacing as he began walking towards the entrance to the diner, CSI's at his heals. To the left of the door stood a teenage girl with bright purple hair, clutching a leather jacket. Her face shone pale in the glare of a streetlamp, and tracks of black could be seen on her cheeks. Brass nodded to them before making his way over to her.
Feeling Nick's eyes settle on him again, Greg stood back as Nick reached for the door-handle. Without warning, a sensation flooded through him, liquid heat and churning, solid fear. He grabbed Nick's arm and pulled him backwards, his breath increasing into sharp pants as he gazed wide eyed into the darkness of the diner. Nick made a face at him.
"What is it, Greg?" He asked, his voice equal parts concern and irritation. Greg could feel the other man studying him, but he just shook his head, unable for the moment to find the words to express how he was feeling. A shroud of confused recognition lowered itself over his vision, pressure making his eyes water and his throat constrict. He shook his head.
"Don't go in there" He whispered, hating the way his voice wavered like something out of a cheap horror film. He chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head again. Nick was frowning at him.
"Greg, what are you talking about?" He whispered back, glancing to the side to check that none of the cops milling around had noticed the scene they were creating. Greg followed his gaze, his eyes darting around.
"It's not safe, Nick."
"Come on Greg, this isn't the time. The cops cleared the scene, and we have to process it. Don't joke around now." He trailed off as Greg turned to him, his eyes locking with the other man's as he hissed urgently.
"I've never felt less like joking, Nick"
Nick gazed at him, long and hard, before shaking his head and yanking the door open, making to walk into the darkened building. Fear spiking in his chest, Greg yanked him backwards again, sending both of them flying to the ground as a hail of bullets rained out from behind the counter. Dust and glass showered down on them, Nick's body covering Greg's as shouts and screams echoed around them. Greg could hear Brass as he demanded to know who had cleared the scene, could hear their names being called as Nick gripped him tightly, his breath warm against his neck as he whispered into his ear.
"You ok, Greggo?" Greg did his best to nod as the cops surrounded them and fired back, abruptly cutting off the stream of bullets flying around their prone bodies. Nick yanked him up and they both ran for the safety of their truck, ducking behind it and watching as the previously quiet scene erupted around them. Crouching low, they panted, staring at each other. Nick opened his mouth to speak but Greg shook his head, his whole body shaking as Nick reached over for his hand, gripping his fingers and squeezing.
The words 'get down on the ground, hands on your head' rang out loud and clear, and both CSI's glanced back at the diner, seeing a man spread out on the floor, surrounded by armed officers. Brushing themselves down, they quickly dropped hands as Brass jogged over to them.
"Are you guys ok?" He asked, glancing between them at Greg's shaken expression, and Nick's steady gaze. Nick nodded, still looking at the man on the ground. The man that officers had failed to find on their first sweep of the crime scene.
"We're fine, Jim." Nick muttered as Brass nodded.
"Lucky you didn't enter that diner."
Greg remain silent as Nick turned to look at him, the two men sharing a moment as Brass left to deal with their suspect. Nick closed his eyes and rested his hand on the small of Greg's back, stroking gentle circles just under the hem of Greg's t-shirt, making the other man shiver and lean further into him, just catching Nick's whispered words.
Greg nodded solemnly "I dreamt it..."
"I'm sorry i ever doubted you."
Greg awoke, sweat bathing his body and his breath panting in and out. He blinked around his darkened room, the numbers of his digital clock creating shadows around his body. Shaking his head, he reached for his phone, quickly selecting a familiar number.
"Stokes." A sleepy voice said on the other end and Greg smiled, the warm Texan accent washing over his body and calming his racing heart. Greg sighed and relaxed back on his bed.
"I had a dream..." He could hear Nick quickly sitting up, bedsprings squeaking as the other man struggled to wake up.
"Another dream, like before...?" He gasped, and Greg chuckled, shaking his head.
"No, not like before. This one was...nicer." He stretched out, his body feeling heavy and warm. His hands strayed over his chest and he closed his eyes, letting Nick's voice wash over him.
"Yeah? What was it about?" Interest piqued in Nick's soft tones and Greg grinned, his hand stroking his skin gently.
"You." He breathed, his eyelids flickering as he heard a soft moan on the other end of the phone. Biting his bottom lip, his body pulsed at Nick's whispered demand.
Greg smiled, sending a silent prayer of thanks to Nana Olaf for the gift she had bestowed upon him.
Finally, his dreams had come true.
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