Transatlanticism 8/10, Tiny Vessels
Transatlanticism
Summary: Maybe Greg should have seen this coming, should have seen early on how closed off Nick was, but somewhere along the line, his crush fell into a dark, despairing kind of love he had trouble fighting his way out of. "I need you so much closer."
Rated: T/PG-13
Spoilers up until S3/S4
NOTES: I've never seen S4, so it's technically a S4 AU because of that.
feedback, I can be down with. Just don't be an ass.
Tiny Vessels
So one last touch and then you'll go
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
But it was vile, and it was cheap
And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
March 14, 2004
When Greg turns up unannounced on Nick’s doorstep almost two weeks later, the first thing Nick does after inviting him in is ask why he brought a backpack. The words are out of Greg’s mouth before he can think.
“We have to talk.”
Nick’s face doesn’t pale or flush and his expression doesn’t change. It’s annoying. Greg finds himself hating it. “Greg…”
“Save it. I’m sick of getting my hopes up.” Even as he’s saying them, Greg wants to take it back. Sometimes, when he’s lucky, just sitting with Nick, curled against his body on the couch, even if they haven’t said a word, is still better than sitting alone anywhere.
“Greg…”
Greg holds a hand up and scratches at his forehead with the other. “Please. Don’t make this worse.” He turns to Nick’s bedroom and ignores Nick still calling his name.
It’s not as easy as all that, though, and Nick follows him. “Greg, come on… don’t…”
“Don’t do this? I’ve listened to you too long, Nick; this time, I’m doing something I want.” An awkward lump rises in his throat. He clears it before it can turn into anything.
There’s a lengthy pause in which the only sound is Greg tearing through Nick’s dresser drawers and closet to find clothes he’d left, then, “You want this?”
It takes nearly all of Greg’s willpower to stick to his plan. Why does this have to be so hard? “Sure.”
“You don’t sound definite.”
“Does it matter if I sound definite or not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” He stops himself before he turns into one of the girls his father used to talk about, that complain and complain for hours about how terrible their boyfriend treated them but never do anything about it. “Look. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.
The words sound false coming out of his mouth. Nick doesn’t say anything else until Greg’s ready to leave. He starts thinking that there’s something he needs to say, and just as he starts trying to say it, Nick grips his arm, tightly. Greg is suddenly flooded with memories of how terrible he is at breaking up with people.
“You’re sure? You really have to do this?”
He doesn’t trust his voice, not really, but if hearing Greg say it is what it’ll take to make Nick try harder to keep them together… “Yeah. I have to do this.” His arm is starting to turn color, Nick’s holding it so tightly. Greg wrings his arm away and adjusts the strap on his backpack, just for something to do. Just to keep his eyes off Nick, his arms from pulling Nick back.
“Okay.”
Greg wants to scream, wants to tell Nick to fight for what matters, when it occurs to him that maybe he doesn’t matter to Nick. Maybe he doesn’t care about Greg as much as Greg cares about him. It hits his stomach like a brick.
All the more reason Greg should want to get away, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to fall back into Nick’s strong arms and pretend nothing’s wrong, how being with Nick and being miserable is better than not being with Nick and being miserable. It’s not; Greg knows deep down it’s healthier if he follows through, not just for him, but for both of them.
“I’ll see you at work,” he says before he can change his mind, and pulls the door closed behind him. The streetlights sparkle against the hood of his car, parked next to Nick’s truck. Greg gets a brief, powerful image of the two of them growing old together, cars parked in the driveway together, with two children and a dog named Rufus or Rory or Rudy. A car peels down the street and takes the image with it.
With a sigh, Greg walks to the car and climbs in, breathing shakily. He leaves before Nick can come out and ask what’s wrong, why Greg’s still in his driveway, because the last thing he needs is comfort from his now ex-boyfriend. The choked, empty laughter that’s keeping him from crying falters and what comes out sounds more like a sob. That’s what Nick’s always going to be. Never a coworker, never a friend. Always an ex-boyfriend. A failed relationship, even if it wasn’t Greg’s failure.
God, that hurts more than it should.
--
March 16, 2004
Greg calls in sick for two days, but Nick allegedly does, too, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. He spends all night sleeping on his couch, watching reruns of Law & Order and some sitcom he never catches the name of and eating ice cream. It’s not like he has anyone to talk to about this; know one really knew.
“Maybe you’ve caught the same thing,” Sara suggests when she stops by to bring him chicken noodle soup, sans chicken.
“Maybe,” Greg replies, thankful he can write off his lack of wit on feeling terrible.
--
March 17, 2004
When he goes back to work, Nick avoids him as much as he can. Greg finds himself swamped with emotion, most of all anger, disappointment, and happiness. Angry because there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to work together, disappointed because he thought Nick would know that, and happy because Nick’s staying out of his lab. While Greg wants to pretend everything is normal because he doesn’t want word to get out about them, he’s also glad that Nick realizes Greg doesn’t really want to see him, not right now. Which is ass-backwards, because Greg should be fine with it; Nick should be the one hurting. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe Greg should stop focusing on what he doesn’t know and focus on what he does.
“Nick seems out of it,” Jacqui comments when he gets back to work. “Hardly reacts to anything anybody says.” She eyes Greg curiously. He wonders if he’s showing physical symptoms of self-induced heartbreak. Jacqui stares for a long time. “What’d you do to him?”
Nick’s just across the hall in Archie’s room, looking more uncomfortable in the lab than Greg’s ever seen him. Maybe Archie said something; the A/V tech tends to be the one to often give Nick the push he needs.
Finally, Greg forces himself to look away and starts sorting through the papers on the desk. “Nothing.” Because he didn’t do anything; Nick brought this on himself.
--
March 30, 2004
For two weeks, Greg hardly sleeps at all. Maybe a few hours a night, if that, and never for two hours at a time. The only reason he’s still alive is because of caffeine. His lab work took a nosedive off the deep end and is taking far too long to return. Grissom has spoken to him about it a few times, and there was even a moment that Greg actually thought Nick was going to talk to him about it. That obviously didn’t pan out.
Greg still hates how badly Nick still affects him, how his mind doesn’t often think about much else. How he closes his eyes and sees Nick’s face transform from adoration to fear, how he wants to hit something when that happens.
It’s unfair. Nick hardly shows signs of anything, no heartbreak or fatigue, nothing. And it might be the glass walls between them at all times that keeps Greg from noticing it, whatever, but really. It wouldn’t kill him to look a little bothered.
Greg also hates how much he doesn’t want to care and how much he does. He hates how a small part of him loves, and probably always will love, Nick. He hates how, after work, instead of greeting him with a kiss like he used to, Nick can hardly move. He hates how much control Nick still has over him. Luckily, Nick either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t stoop that low, because Nick never calls him out on anything.
Around the twenty-second, Nick came into work with a plastic bag. He refused to let anyone know what was inside, and Greg overheard a few rumors about how Nick had killed someone and was bringing the head in to the lab because nobody would suspect it (among, of course, many others but that was Greg’s favorite).
It turned out that the bag was filled with a few of the things Greg had brought over ages ago, when they were still dating. Things he’d missed when he went back to collect. There wasn’t even a note. No, “Here’s some stuff you forgot,” or “I thought you’d want this back,” nothing.
Honestly, Greg’s not sure how he feels about that.
Summary: Maybe Greg should have seen this coming, should have seen early on how closed off Nick was, but somewhere along the line, his crush fell into a dark, despairing kind of love he had trouble fighting his way out of. "I need you so much closer."
Rated: T/PG-13
Spoilers up until S3/S4
NOTES: I've never seen S4, so it's technically a S4 AU because of that.
feedback, I can be down with. Just don't be an ass.
Tiny Vessels
So one last touch and then you'll go
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
But it was vile, and it was cheap
And you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
March 14, 2004
When Greg turns up unannounced on Nick’s doorstep almost two weeks later, the first thing Nick does after inviting him in is ask why he brought a backpack. The words are out of Greg’s mouth before he can think.
“We have to talk.”
Nick’s face doesn’t pale or flush and his expression doesn’t change. It’s annoying. Greg finds himself hating it. “Greg…”
“Save it. I’m sick of getting my hopes up.” Even as he’s saying them, Greg wants to take it back. Sometimes, when he’s lucky, just sitting with Nick, curled against his body on the couch, even if they haven’t said a word, is still better than sitting alone anywhere.
“Greg…”
Greg holds a hand up and scratches at his forehead with the other. “Please. Don’t make this worse.” He turns to Nick’s bedroom and ignores Nick still calling his name.
It’s not as easy as all that, though, and Nick follows him. “Greg, come on… don’t…”
“Don’t do this? I’ve listened to you too long, Nick; this time, I’m doing something I want.” An awkward lump rises in his throat. He clears it before it can turn into anything.
There’s a lengthy pause in which the only sound is Greg tearing through Nick’s dresser drawers and closet to find clothes he’d left, then, “You want this?”
It takes nearly all of Greg’s willpower to stick to his plan. Why does this have to be so hard? “Sure.”
“You don’t sound definite.”
“Does it matter if I sound definite or not? It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” He stops himself before he turns into one of the girls his father used to talk about, that complain and complain for hours about how terrible their boyfriend treated them but never do anything about it. “Look. Don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine.
The words sound false coming out of his mouth. Nick doesn’t say anything else until Greg’s ready to leave. He starts thinking that there’s something he needs to say, and just as he starts trying to say it, Nick grips his arm, tightly. Greg is suddenly flooded with memories of how terrible he is at breaking up with people.
“You’re sure? You really have to do this?”
He doesn’t trust his voice, not really, but if hearing Greg say it is what it’ll take to make Nick try harder to keep them together… “Yeah. I have to do this.” His arm is starting to turn color, Nick’s holding it so tightly. Greg wrings his arm away and adjusts the strap on his backpack, just for something to do. Just to keep his eyes off Nick, his arms from pulling Nick back.
“Okay.”
Greg wants to scream, wants to tell Nick to fight for what matters, when it occurs to him that maybe he doesn’t matter to Nick. Maybe he doesn’t care about Greg as much as Greg cares about him. It hits his stomach like a brick.
All the more reason Greg should want to get away, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to fall back into Nick’s strong arms and pretend nothing’s wrong, how being with Nick and being miserable is better than not being with Nick and being miserable. It’s not; Greg knows deep down it’s healthier if he follows through, not just for him, but for both of them.
“I’ll see you at work,” he says before he can change his mind, and pulls the door closed behind him. The streetlights sparkle against the hood of his car, parked next to Nick’s truck. Greg gets a brief, powerful image of the two of them growing old together, cars parked in the driveway together, with two children and a dog named Rufus or Rory or Rudy. A car peels down the street and takes the image with it.
With a sigh, Greg walks to the car and climbs in, breathing shakily. He leaves before Nick can come out and ask what’s wrong, why Greg’s still in his driveway, because the last thing he needs is comfort from his now ex-boyfriend. The choked, empty laughter that’s keeping him from crying falters and what comes out sounds more like a sob. That’s what Nick’s always going to be. Never a coworker, never a friend. Always an ex-boyfriend. A failed relationship, even if it wasn’t Greg’s failure.
God, that hurts more than it should.
--
March 16, 2004
Greg calls in sick for two days, but Nick allegedly does, too, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. He spends all night sleeping on his couch, watching reruns of Law & Order and some sitcom he never catches the name of and eating ice cream. It’s not like he has anyone to talk to about this; know one really knew.
“Maybe you’ve caught the same thing,” Sara suggests when she stops by to bring him chicken noodle soup, sans chicken.
“Maybe,” Greg replies, thankful he can write off his lack of wit on feeling terrible.
--
March 17, 2004
When he goes back to work, Nick avoids him as much as he can. Greg finds himself swamped with emotion, most of all anger, disappointment, and happiness. Angry because there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to work together, disappointed because he thought Nick would know that, and happy because Nick’s staying out of his lab. While Greg wants to pretend everything is normal because he doesn’t want word to get out about them, he’s also glad that Nick realizes Greg doesn’t really want to see him, not right now. Which is ass-backwards, because Greg should be fine with it; Nick should be the one hurting. Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe Greg should stop focusing on what he doesn’t know and focus on what he does.
“Nick seems out of it,” Jacqui comments when he gets back to work. “Hardly reacts to anything anybody says.” She eyes Greg curiously. He wonders if he’s showing physical symptoms of self-induced heartbreak. Jacqui stares for a long time. “What’d you do to him?”
Nick’s just across the hall in Archie’s room, looking more uncomfortable in the lab than Greg’s ever seen him. Maybe Archie said something; the A/V tech tends to be the one to often give Nick the push he needs.
Finally, Greg forces himself to look away and starts sorting through the papers on the desk. “Nothing.” Because he didn’t do anything; Nick brought this on himself.
--
March 30, 2004
For two weeks, Greg hardly sleeps at all. Maybe a few hours a night, if that, and never for two hours at a time. The only reason he’s still alive is because of caffeine. His lab work took a nosedive off the deep end and is taking far too long to return. Grissom has spoken to him about it a few times, and there was even a moment that Greg actually thought Nick was going to talk to him about it. That obviously didn’t pan out.
Greg still hates how badly Nick still affects him, how his mind doesn’t often think about much else. How he closes his eyes and sees Nick’s face transform from adoration to fear, how he wants to hit something when that happens.
It’s unfair. Nick hardly shows signs of anything, no heartbreak or fatigue, nothing. And it might be the glass walls between them at all times that keeps Greg from noticing it, whatever, but really. It wouldn’t kill him to look a little bothered.
Greg also hates how much he doesn’t want to care and how much he does. He hates how a small part of him loves, and probably always will love, Nick. He hates how, after work, instead of greeting him with a kiss like he used to, Nick can hardly move. He hates how much control Nick still has over him. Luckily, Nick either doesn’t notice or he doesn’t stoop that low, because Nick never calls him out on anything.
Around the twenty-second, Nick came into work with a plastic bag. He refused to let anyone know what was inside, and Greg overheard a few rumors about how Nick had killed someone and was bringing the head in to the lab because nobody would suspect it (among, of course, many others but that was Greg’s favorite).
It turned out that the bag was filled with a few of the things Greg had brought over ages ago, when they were still dating. Things he’d missed when he went back to collect. There wasn’t even a note. No, “Here’s some stuff you forgot,” or “I thought you’d want this back,” nothing.
Honestly, Greg’s not sure how he feels about that.