Font

“You recognized the font?” Greg chortled.

Nick’s eyes narrowed as they approached the van in evidence. “You don’t want to go there right now,” he warned. He fished out a pair of rubber gloves and snapped them on.

“Oh, come on,” Greg persisted. “Did you really think they would buy that? You may as well have just admitted you’ve been there!” He put on his own gloves and leaned over Nick’s shoulder when he crouched near the bumper. He was close enough to breath on Nick’s neck, recklessly close, and Nick jerked back, scowling at him. But Greg was unfazed. He wouldn’t really do anything to jeopardize the case or their jobs and Nick knew it. Nick was just touchy because they hadn’t had a lot of time together the last few days.

“You didn’t happen to pick up anything while you were there, did you?” he asked conversationally. He couldn’t help himself. Nick wasn’t really a prude, but it took some nudging just to get him to go into a sex shop with Greg.

“Right,” Nick snorted. “While Grissom was questiong the clerk, I was buying dildos.”

Greg’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering the clerk that hit on Nick. “Did the clerk recognize you?” Was that why Nick was so cranky? Did Grissom really know—

Oh god. it was one thing for their friends to think they—well, Nick—had maybe been there, but if their boss knew, there was no plausible denial anymore and shit, Nick wasn’t going to fuck him ever again now.

“I took the van and Grissom went inside,” Nick replied, shaking his head to himself as if wondering what he ever saw in Greg.

Nope. Never. Again.

“And,” Nick added coolly, straightening up to his full height and leaning into Greg’s space, “it’s a good thing they only take cash.” Greg stumbled back against the edge of the work bench, instinctively bending back and away from Nick’s imposing form. And hard eyes. “Otherwise Grissom could’ve found my credit card receipt from last night.”

There was nowhere else for Greg to go as Nick stepped in to close the small gap remaining between them. One leg was pushed between Greg’s and his body reacted instantly, keenly focused on the smell of Nick’s shampoo, the long arms tightly boxing him in, and the heat from Nick’s body right there.

“Receipt?” he managed to croak somehow, his brain finally catching up.

Nick nodded slowly, his eyes softening a bit as they crinkled with the mischevious grin. “Yeah.” He winked and pulled back abruptly, leaving Greg to wobble on his own without the extra support.

“For what?!” Greg demanded, kind of squeaking really.

Nick wagged a finger at him. “No,” he teased, turning back to the van. “It’s a surprise.”

Greg gaped at him.

“But the sooner we get done here, the sooner we can go home and break them in.”

Greg blinked several times and barely checked the impulse to beg for a hint, instead hissing, “Asshole.”

He ignored Nick’s shaking shoulders, acknowledging the fucker was laughing at him would only make it worse. Forcing himself to get it together and focus on the van too, he stood beside Nick, lips pursed tight.

“Hey, I told you not to start,” Nick reminded him with a good-natured clap on the back.

Nick could be a real prick when he wanted to and Greg groaned as Nick gave his shoulder a more intimate, promising squeeze—promising the wait was going to kill him—before handing over a flashlight and climbing into the back of the van.

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