Fic: At the Hour Of Death 1/15 (CSI, Nick/Greg, NC17)
I feel like I should really split this into two posts, but I don't want to spam the hell out of everyone's flist the second I get back, so I'll just make liberal use of cut tags.
First of all, thanks to everyone who checked in with me during my hiatus to make sure I didn't have some kind of crazy nervous breakdown or anything. It was much appreciated.
A few days away from fandom is exactly what I needed after last week. If it had just been the one flame which most of you saw I probably would have just blown it off, but there was much more on Friday morning and as I was feeling premenstrual and disconnected from my writing and just generally strung out, I felt it best to take a few steps back until I remembered why I enjoy fandom in the first place. We all need to take a break every once in awhile, after all.
It's easy to tell myself that I should just ignore flames/personal attacks, and I know intellectually that these attacks aren't personal. There's no way they could be, seeing as the people in question don't know me at all. Reading my journal certainly doesn't mean you know me, it just means you know what my fandom preferences are. So if people want to attack certain pairings or whatever that's fine -- I don't expect the whole world to love Nick/Greg, and I know that some people just have way too much time on their hands, so if flaming me gives them something to do...well, that's just kind of sad, but okay.
Normally I would just let stuff like that roll off, but again...hormones and stress. They play a big role in how I react to stuff, so I was probably a little melodramatic. I apologize for those of you who had to see that. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I'll try not to let it.
I realize I owe a bunch of comments and I will answer them. Eventually. Honest.
So I spent the weekend getting a sunburn and doing a lot of cooking and catching up on some movies I've been meaning to see, and yesterday I was struck with a new plot bunny for a longish Nick/Greg fic. Just goes to show, I suppose, that clearing your mind every once in awhile is the best way to make room for new ideas.
I hadn't really intended to start a new longish fic, but it's all outlined and the first part is written, so what the hell. This is kind of a new approach for me in that it's fairly plot-heavy, centered around the case that's introduced in the first part. I actually started writing this ages ago and never continued it, but the structure is completely different now and the central case is the only thing that remains the same. Also, I cribbed the title from another project that I'm never going to finish, so if it's familiar, that's why. Or it could be familiar because I originally ripped it off from T.S. Eliot. Whichever.
At the Hour of Death. 1/15 (give or take). Nick/Greg. Rating subject to fluctuation.
Nick was kneeling by the body when the motel room door opened, collecting remnants of fiber from the ligature marks on the neck and wondering what it was that made people do stuff like this. As long as he'd lived in Vegas and he still didn't get it - didn't think he ever would, not…this. Torture as foreplay - it just didn't make any sense to him, not when there were so many ways to get off that didn't involve pain or fear or this kind of anger.
"Hey," he said when he glanced up and spotted Greg, gaze already riveted on the body as though he was afraid it might sit up and start talking. It was hard sometimes to remember that Greg was still new to all this, that even though he'd been working with them for years the actual death part was pretty removed from the work that went on back at the lab. Until Nick saw him out in the field, looking nervous and unprepared and way too young to be doing this job.
"Hey," Greg answered, gaze still fixed on the body. "What's his story?"
"Asphyxiation," Nick said, dropping the last fiber in an envelope and tucking it into his kit. "No I.D. From the looks of things I'm thinking sexually motivated homicide. Not sure yet if it was a game that went too far or if somebody wanted this guy dead."
He dropped his tweezers back in his kit and stood up, looking down at the body. He'd landed face down when he fell so Nick couldn't see his face, but as near as he could tell the victim was in his mid-twenties, a little on the skinny side but strong enough to put up a decent fight against an average size assailant. There were no real signs of a struggle, though, so he got the feeling that whatever happened here, the victim had agreed to it. He swallowed a shudder and tore his gaze away from the body to look at Greg again. "Do me a favor and go tell David the body's ready for him."
Greg didn't answer; he was still staring at the body, eyes a little wide and paler than usual even in the bad motel room lighting. He'd frozen up on Nick once before, but that had been his first time in the field and there had been a lot of blood on that bus driver. That time was sort of understandable considering, but if Greg was going to keep freezing up on him there was no way he'd make it as a CSI. "Greg, if you can't handle this..."
"Sorry," Greg said, shaking his head and looking up at Nick. "It's not…I think I know him."
"You know the vic."
Greg nodded and tilted his head a little as though he was trying to picture the body from another angle. "I haven't seen him in a long time, but I'm pretty sure that's Aaron."
"You can't even see his face," Nick said, frowning down at the body for a second before he looked up at Greg again. Some of the color was back in Greg's cheeks now, and if Nick didn't know better he'd almost think Greg was blushing. "What?"
"It's just…I've seen him from this angle. It's not like we did a lot of talking when we were together."
It took Nick a second to realize what Greg was saying, and when he did he felt his own cheeks flush bright red. He opened his mouth to say something - what, he had no idea - but before he managed any sound at all the door opened and David was wheeling a stretcher in.
"You ready for me?" David asked, glancing from Nick to Greg and back again.
"Yeah…uh, yeah," Nick answered, watching as a guy from the coroner's office helped David get the body on the stretcher. He knew it always took them a little while to move a body - the had to be careful, after all, because they were moving evidence and they didn't want to disturb it any more than necessary. But Greg's words were still echoing in his mind, and now Nick was stuck watching helplessly and trying not to picture Greg and the victim together.
It didn't help that he'd never seen the victim alive, because the mental pictures he was trying hard not to see were a lot more disturbing than they needed to be. And it wasn't like he'd never wondered about Greg, but he'd never been any good at guessing that kind of thing so he'd never been sure. It was just another thing about Nick that was wrong, because he was supposed to be able to tell when a guy swung that way, but he'd always been hopeless at that kind of thing.
Even when he was in college he could never tell if a guy was hitting on him or just being friendly, and he still wondered sometimes how many opportunities he'd blown just by being clueless. He had to be careful, though, because then he'd been in a fraternity and now...now his line of work was still pretty high-profile, and it was close enough to being a cop that he didn't take any chances. Obviously Greg didn't have any of those hang-ups, though, because he'd as much as come out to Nick just a few seconds ago, and he'd made it sound like Nick should have known all along.
It felt like hours before they finally wheeled the body out of the room, leaving Nick and Greg alone in the crime scene. As soon as the door closed again Nick looked at Greg - he was still staring at the door the body had disappeared through, and part of Nick could almost believe he'd misunderstood Greg. He wanted to believe it, to forget the whole conversation had ever happened and get back to the crime scene, but if Greg knew the victim they were going to have to talk about it eventually.
"Are you telling me you slept with our dead guy?"
"Well he was alive at the time," Greg answered, finally turning back to Nick again.
"Since when do you like guys?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he had to be dreaming, because there was no way they were having this conversation. Only if he was dreaming this would be the part of the dream where Greg smiled that smile and finally followed through on all that flirting he did. But he wasn't that lucky, and instead of smiling and showing Nick just how much he liked guys Greg was looking at him like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard.
"For about fourteen years now. Why, you want references?"
"Funny." Only he had a feeling Greg wasn't kidding, and if he wasn't none of this made sense. Sure, Greg flirted, but it never meant anything. He'd told himself a thousand times that it didn't mean anything, but if Greg really did swing that way it changed...well, nothing, because it didn't matter to Nick who Greg was sleeping with. It didn't, except that this time it had to do with a case, and that complicated things even more. "You really know this guy?"
"I knew him. Past tense. And not all that well."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"We went out a few times a year or so ago. Since then I've seen him around at the clubs once or twice, but I didn't talk to him. The last time was around six months ago."
"Did you know he was into this kind of thing?"
"I knew he liked it kind of rough," Greg answered. Nick tried not to let his reaction to that show, but he knew he hadn't done a good job of hiding it when Greg rolled his eyes. "He was into some stuff that I wasn't into, so we went out a couple times and then we went our separate ways. I thought you knew."
"You thought I knew about you and…what'd you say his name was?"
"Aaron Landry. I think. And I meant I thought you knew I was bi. It's not like I kept it a secret."
Nick's mind raced as he tried to remember a time when Greg might have given him any kind of signal that he was anything less than straight. There was the flirting, but he'd always assumed that was just Greg being…well, Greg. He'd never taken it seriously, because Greg flirted with everybody. Then there was the crush on Sara, and the girls he bragged about periodically. He'd never mentioned any guys, but maybe Nick just hadn't been paying attention.
Or maybe he'd heard what he wanted to hear - he'd been accused of that often enough, and most of the time when Greg talked about sex Nick changed the subject as quickly as possible. His own track record was less than stellar lately - okay, for the past few years - and the last thing he wanted to do was answer a bunch of awkward questions about why he wasn't dating.
It took him a few seconds to realize he was standing there with his mouth open, but as soon as he did he blushed and cleared his throat. He looked away from Greg, reaching into his kit for a pair of gloves. They still had a crime scene to process, after all, and the less he thought about Greg's personal life right now the better off they'd both be.
"You might as well start dusting for prints," he said, glancing at Greg without quite meeting the other man's gaze. "We're gonna be here awhile."
For a few seconds Greg just stood there and watched him, but when Nick looked up again he shook his head and turned toward his own kit. He didn't say anything else while he pulled dusting powder and gloves out of his kit, and Nick told himself it was just as well. The less they talked the happier he'd be, at least until he figured out how to look at Greg without picturing him and some guy whose face Nick still hadn't seen.
First of all, thanks to everyone who checked in with me during my hiatus to make sure I didn't have some kind of crazy nervous breakdown or anything. It was much appreciated.
A few days away from fandom is exactly what I needed after last week. If it had just been the one flame which most of you saw I probably would have just blown it off, but there was much more on Friday morning and as I was feeling premenstrual and disconnected from my writing and just generally strung out, I felt it best to take a few steps back until I remembered why I enjoy fandom in the first place. We all need to take a break every once in awhile, after all.
It's easy to tell myself that I should just ignore flames/personal attacks, and I know intellectually that these attacks aren't personal. There's no way they could be, seeing as the people in question don't know me at all. Reading my journal certainly doesn't mean you know me, it just means you know what my fandom preferences are. So if people want to attack certain pairings or whatever that's fine -- I don't expect the whole world to love Nick/Greg, and I know that some people just have way too much time on their hands, so if flaming me gives them something to do...well, that's just kind of sad, but okay.
Normally I would just let stuff like that roll off, but again...hormones and stress. They play a big role in how I react to stuff, so I was probably a little melodramatic. I apologize for those of you who had to see that. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I'll try not to let it.
I realize I owe a bunch of comments and I will answer them. Eventually. Honest.
So I spent the weekend getting a sunburn and doing a lot of cooking and catching up on some movies I've been meaning to see, and yesterday I was struck with a new plot bunny for a longish Nick/Greg fic. Just goes to show, I suppose, that clearing your mind every once in awhile is the best way to make room for new ideas.
I hadn't really intended to start a new longish fic, but it's all outlined and the first part is written, so what the hell. This is kind of a new approach for me in that it's fairly plot-heavy, centered around the case that's introduced in the first part. I actually started writing this ages ago and never continued it, but the structure is completely different now and the central case is the only thing that remains the same. Also, I cribbed the title from another project that I'm never going to finish, so if it's familiar, that's why. Or it could be familiar because I originally ripped it off from T.S. Eliot. Whichever.
At the Hour of Death. 1/15 (give or take). Nick/Greg. Rating subject to fluctuation.
Nick was kneeling by the body when the motel room door opened, collecting remnants of fiber from the ligature marks on the neck and wondering what it was that made people do stuff like this. As long as he'd lived in Vegas and he still didn't get it - didn't think he ever would, not…this. Torture as foreplay - it just didn't make any sense to him, not when there were so many ways to get off that didn't involve pain or fear or this kind of anger.
"Hey," he said when he glanced up and spotted Greg, gaze already riveted on the body as though he was afraid it might sit up and start talking. It was hard sometimes to remember that Greg was still new to all this, that even though he'd been working with them for years the actual death part was pretty removed from the work that went on back at the lab. Until Nick saw him out in the field, looking nervous and unprepared and way too young to be doing this job.
"Hey," Greg answered, gaze still fixed on the body. "What's his story?"
"Asphyxiation," Nick said, dropping the last fiber in an envelope and tucking it into his kit. "No I.D. From the looks of things I'm thinking sexually motivated homicide. Not sure yet if it was a game that went too far or if somebody wanted this guy dead."
He dropped his tweezers back in his kit and stood up, looking down at the body. He'd landed face down when he fell so Nick couldn't see his face, but as near as he could tell the victim was in his mid-twenties, a little on the skinny side but strong enough to put up a decent fight against an average size assailant. There were no real signs of a struggle, though, so he got the feeling that whatever happened here, the victim had agreed to it. He swallowed a shudder and tore his gaze away from the body to look at Greg again. "Do me a favor and go tell David the body's ready for him."
Greg didn't answer; he was still staring at the body, eyes a little wide and paler than usual even in the bad motel room lighting. He'd frozen up on Nick once before, but that had been his first time in the field and there had been a lot of blood on that bus driver. That time was sort of understandable considering, but if Greg was going to keep freezing up on him there was no way he'd make it as a CSI. "Greg, if you can't handle this..."
"Sorry," Greg said, shaking his head and looking up at Nick. "It's not…I think I know him."
"You know the vic."
Greg nodded and tilted his head a little as though he was trying to picture the body from another angle. "I haven't seen him in a long time, but I'm pretty sure that's Aaron."
"You can't even see his face," Nick said, frowning down at the body for a second before he looked up at Greg again. Some of the color was back in Greg's cheeks now, and if Nick didn't know better he'd almost think Greg was blushing. "What?"
"It's just…I've seen him from this angle. It's not like we did a lot of talking when we were together."
It took Nick a second to realize what Greg was saying, and when he did he felt his own cheeks flush bright red. He opened his mouth to say something - what, he had no idea - but before he managed any sound at all the door opened and David was wheeling a stretcher in.
"You ready for me?" David asked, glancing from Nick to Greg and back again.
"Yeah…uh, yeah," Nick answered, watching as a guy from the coroner's office helped David get the body on the stretcher. He knew it always took them a little while to move a body - the had to be careful, after all, because they were moving evidence and they didn't want to disturb it any more than necessary. But Greg's words were still echoing in his mind, and now Nick was stuck watching helplessly and trying not to picture Greg and the victim together.
It didn't help that he'd never seen the victim alive, because the mental pictures he was trying hard not to see were a lot more disturbing than they needed to be. And it wasn't like he'd never wondered about Greg, but he'd never been any good at guessing that kind of thing so he'd never been sure. It was just another thing about Nick that was wrong, because he was supposed to be able to tell when a guy swung that way, but he'd always been hopeless at that kind of thing.
Even when he was in college he could never tell if a guy was hitting on him or just being friendly, and he still wondered sometimes how many opportunities he'd blown just by being clueless. He had to be careful, though, because then he'd been in a fraternity and now...now his line of work was still pretty high-profile, and it was close enough to being a cop that he didn't take any chances. Obviously Greg didn't have any of those hang-ups, though, because he'd as much as come out to Nick just a few seconds ago, and he'd made it sound like Nick should have known all along.
It felt like hours before they finally wheeled the body out of the room, leaving Nick and Greg alone in the crime scene. As soon as the door closed again Nick looked at Greg - he was still staring at the door the body had disappeared through, and part of Nick could almost believe he'd misunderstood Greg. He wanted to believe it, to forget the whole conversation had ever happened and get back to the crime scene, but if Greg knew the victim they were going to have to talk about it eventually.
"Are you telling me you slept with our dead guy?"
"Well he was alive at the time," Greg answered, finally turning back to Nick again.
"Since when do you like guys?"
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he had to be dreaming, because there was no way they were having this conversation. Only if he was dreaming this would be the part of the dream where Greg smiled that smile and finally followed through on all that flirting he did. But he wasn't that lucky, and instead of smiling and showing Nick just how much he liked guys Greg was looking at him like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard.
"For about fourteen years now. Why, you want references?"
"Funny." Only he had a feeling Greg wasn't kidding, and if he wasn't none of this made sense. Sure, Greg flirted, but it never meant anything. He'd told himself a thousand times that it didn't mean anything, but if Greg really did swing that way it changed...well, nothing, because it didn't matter to Nick who Greg was sleeping with. It didn't, except that this time it had to do with a case, and that complicated things even more. "You really know this guy?"
"I knew him. Past tense. And not all that well."
"When's the last time you saw him?"
"We went out a few times a year or so ago. Since then I've seen him around at the clubs once or twice, but I didn't talk to him. The last time was around six months ago."
"Did you know he was into this kind of thing?"
"I knew he liked it kind of rough," Greg answered. Nick tried not to let his reaction to that show, but he knew he hadn't done a good job of hiding it when Greg rolled his eyes. "He was into some stuff that I wasn't into, so we went out a couple times and then we went our separate ways. I thought you knew."
"You thought I knew about you and…what'd you say his name was?"
"Aaron Landry. I think. And I meant I thought you knew I was bi. It's not like I kept it a secret."
Nick's mind raced as he tried to remember a time when Greg might have given him any kind of signal that he was anything less than straight. There was the flirting, but he'd always assumed that was just Greg being…well, Greg. He'd never taken it seriously, because Greg flirted with everybody. Then there was the crush on Sara, and the girls he bragged about periodically. He'd never mentioned any guys, but maybe Nick just hadn't been paying attention.
Or maybe he'd heard what he wanted to hear - he'd been accused of that often enough, and most of the time when Greg talked about sex Nick changed the subject as quickly as possible. His own track record was less than stellar lately - okay, for the past few years - and the last thing he wanted to do was answer a bunch of awkward questions about why he wasn't dating.
It took him a few seconds to realize he was standing there with his mouth open, but as soon as he did he blushed and cleared his throat. He looked away from Greg, reaching into his kit for a pair of gloves. They still had a crime scene to process, after all, and the less he thought about Greg's personal life right now the better off they'd both be.
"You might as well start dusting for prints," he said, glancing at Greg without quite meeting the other man's gaze. "We're gonna be here awhile."
For a few seconds Greg just stood there and watched him, but when Nick looked up again he shook his head and turned toward his own kit. He didn't say anything else while he pulled dusting powder and gloves out of his kit, and Nick told himself it was just as well. The less they talked the happier he'd be, at least until he figured out how to look at Greg without picturing him and some guy whose face Nick still hadn't seen.