suspiciously normal... (just1tearforme) wrote in nickngreg,
suspiciously normal...
just1tearforme
nickngreg

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Title: Fractured Moment
PG, 1814 words
Disclaim: I don't own them, however I do take them out to play once in a while, and return them just the way I found them.
Summary: Title says it all, one moment taken, and fractured.


Fractured Moment 

You go where the coffee is, and Greg’s stuff in the best, that wonderful rich flavoured Blue Hawaiian. And yet the one person who ingests aforementioned liquid ambrosia like we breathe air is completely ignoring it. A mug of rapidly cooling coffee sitting inches from his head as he’s passed out over a book. I don’t know what the volume is but it doesn’t matter, the kid (everyone is a kid to me) should be sleeping on a pillow anyway. I have to admire him though, full of questions, constantly gaining knowledge, always trying to be more than he is. We, as humans always trying to be more than we are; only stopping when they cross my table. He succeeds incredibly too. And he doesn’t stop being bright and shiny in this oft dark business. I love it when the kid comes down during wait times and has a chat with me; it’s a nice break in my day. We have such interesting discussions on music and literature. I never knew he read every piece Oscar Wilde ever wrote, and he now knows I love the Harry Potter novels. We might have even met up to catch a midnight showing of The Chamber of Secrets once before, *might* have. And while he sleeps, he reminds me even more of a kid in how young he appears.

I hide a faint smile behind my coffee mug but it doesn’t stop my eyes from smiling which causes Grissom to raise an eyebrow at me and give a questioning look. Those two, Nick and Greg, will keep each other young, the others may or may not see it but they try to be one another, to be themselves and the other simultaneously. Even as Nick wakes the poor kid up I can see the effect they’ve had, he smiles warming radiating energy like the kid usually does. And the kid is calm, mellow, granted possibly from a lack of caffeine, but smiles softly and whispers a gentle “thanks”. His still the irrepressible Greg, but the changes are there. They’re good for one another, and they’ll have plenty of time to learn more.

 * * * *

 Poor kid, slumped over a book is no way to spend a break. It’s obvious that he hasn’t eaten anything, and he’s skinny enough as it is. Good thing I had some leftovers from lunch/meal, I’d slip them to him later while Gil wasn’t looking. It wouldn’t do to overtly break the ‘no food in the lab’ rule, covertly though that was another story. His shoulders rise and fall slightly as he sleeps; he looks so damn young slumbering there. I just want to grab a blanket and tuck him in like I used to do to Lindsay. All my boys inspire this maternal instinct, but he seems to bring it out even more so. The fact that I accidentally caused his scars decorating his back probably exacerbated that feeling as well. I wouldn’t tell him but God I loved that kid, and appreciate everything he does. And perhaps we didn’t tell him that enough. He’s a good kid, and some times I just want to give him a hug. Right now I just want to ruffle his hair, kiss his cheek, and let him sleep; and I would fight Gil if he tried to disturb him. Greg’s my boy, and I would care for him better than I had done before.

 I sighed, Sara looked pointedly at the clock; break was almost over. Damn, somebody was going to have to wake Greg up; unfortunately we couldn’t afford to let him sleep a little longer. Nick stepped forward, well at least it wasn’t Sara; she would most likely wake him abruptly whereas Nicky would be gentle. He’s a good boy, treats everyone with kindness; his hand rests softly on Greg’s shoulder taking great care to avoid his scars. Good kids the both of them. I couldn’t mother like Greg like I felt inclined, but I could at least provide him with some coffee. As I emptied his lukewarm mug, I caught Al hiding a smile; I’ll have to ask him about that later. Right now I have to get coffee to my boy. Breakfast would come later; a mother’s got to take care of her kids.

* * * *

 He’s passed out on the table, not just sleeping but totally passed out- dead to the world. Not that it’s a bad idea though, I kind of envy him, well perhaps not once he realizes that this was his only chance to grab a bite to eat for the next eight hours. I hope that book he’s draped across isn’t one of his infamous semi- mythological pornographic ones, granted it would be funny as hell if Grissom were to bust him, but it would still suck. I wonder if he’d wake up if I started sucking on his neck and left a mark, now walking around with that for the next few days with no idea of how it got there in the first place would be hilarious! A little payback for all the flirting his does, and all his slightly lascivious comments. However stealing the cup of coffee in front of him would better serve me, ‘cause damn if I couldn’t use a little caffeine right now and god knows he makes only the good stuff. Yet it’s kind of funny to see him slumped over like that, you couldn’t exactly reconcile a surfing, latex painting, DNA tech horn dog with this rather normal (if you look beyond the Manson tee) looking man.

 Though we still had a few minutes left of our break I’d rather get back to work, but damned if I was going to wake him. Knowing my luck, he’d be one of those people who wake rather violently and hit me accidentally. Besides, I’m wearing a v-neck shirt and damned if he’s getting a free view of my boobs. That requires dinner first at least and perhaps a movie as well, not that I would go out with him anyways, my tastes are a little more refined even if they do tend to run on the slightly oblivious side. I’m glad Nick’s decided to be the one to wake him; at least if Greg does lash out he can take a blow. Me, I bruise easily.  Now maybe he could just pass along the whole acting like a gentleman thing while he’s at it.

* * * *

 Sleeping, not precisely the manner I would spend an hour break, but to each their own I suppose. Of course I just spent most of the hour with my insects, furthering my study of the blowfly. Lots of notes to be taken and data to compare. Apparently Greg was reading as well, until the book put him to sleep. I hope he doesn’t drool, the enzymes in his saliva would damage the tome and that would be a shame. It’s also a shame that my team has not enough to do, so they have to stand around watching another sleep. Fortunately time is expiring and this side show entertainment can come to an end. Though I am baffled at his ability to sleep with so many gazes upon him, I would be awake in an instant. However it appears that our lab tech is made of much sterner fortitude.

 Deftly Nick rests a hand on his shoulder, touching his shoulder with such care like he’s handling a valuable piece of evidence. Al is smiling faintly behind his coffee mug, something about this has tickled his fancy or there is something he knows. Now my curiosity is piqued and telegraphed in my features, but he only smiles with his eyes even more. Huh. Greg’s shoulder is shaking slightly as Nick squeezes and gives it a little shake. The pads of his fingers pressing into the flesh denoting presence and yet communicating so much more. And suddenly it’s like a lovers post coital caress, involuntary and emotion laden. They’re together. With bleary brown eyes Greg peers up at him, barely lifting his head off the pages, but I guarantee it’s a look Nick has seen many times but it still seems like he is seeing it for the very first time. I imagine he gets to view it every ‘morning’, but it doesn’t matter because it’s still new everyday. Nick’s hand stays on his shoulder as he stretches and packs away his things. I may have a little tunnel vision when it comes to relationships but even I can read those subconscious body conversations. They love each other, true it is new love, but it is certainly the kind that lasts. Huh. How about that.

* * * *

He had fallen asleep, silently, too tired to even snore in his light manner. His right arm stretched out, resting on the edge of the book. And hand still gripping a pen though some what more lax than in waking. His shoulders tense, his activities taking their toll heavily. I could only hope they understood the depth of sacrifice undertaken. Give an hour between a double and triple shift for a meal and change of clothes; he opted to pour over a text. If they looked close in the last weeks, they might have noticed his t-shirts were a little bigger, denims hanging off his hips, looser. I knew the more visible definition of ribs in his chest, the worrisome ability to span his wrist between the ring of my thumb and middle digit. I also know the nights (mornings) I go to bed long before him and wake long after. The singular packet of ramen and multiple bags of coffee are telling in the trash. All this for one compelling purpose.

 He didn’t stir when I laid a hand on his shoulder, this too concerned me for usually one touch was enough to bring him from REM sleep and into a slightly cognitive awareness. Fatigue was claiming too much ground; I hoped this they could see. I squeezed his shoulder, giving it a little shake. A little shudder ran through his body, eyelids fluttering as he struggled to drag himself to wakefulness. Tonight, this morning, whenever we finally went home there would be no studying. I would hide the books if I had to for they could wait, they would be there when we woke. But tonight we would sleep together, restful in one another’s arms. Blearily, brown eyes peered up at me, his head barely lifted off the open pages. “Good morning sleepy. We’ve got work to do.” Even as he stretched and packed up his book and notes my hand remained on his shoulder; I couldn’t verbally communicate that I loved him or that I was sorry to wake him up, but I could at least remind him no matter what I was there, always and forever.


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  • Calling all authors: WMTDB is moving to AO3!

    Hello everybody, This is a message especially for What Makes the Desert Beautiful authors, I hope at least some of you are still around on…

  • Maintenance week at the WMtDB!

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