CSI: Disaster, in Seven Parts. Nick/Greg
Title: Disaster, in Seven Parts
Kate Shelby, June 23, 2006
Feedback: Hell yes!
Challenge: First time challenge on crimeinthelight
Word count: Seven drabbles at one hundred words each.
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, things would be a lot different. And a lot more porny.
Spoilers: None, I think.
Rating: PGish?
Pairing: Greg/OFC, Nick/Greg
Note: My first fic in the CSI fandom, I think it’s kind of nifty for a firsts challenge. Firsts all around. Probably AU.
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1. Greg got the first coworker he slept with pregnant. Fresh out of undergraduate school, with bigger dreams. She swore it was his-he had no reason to not believe her. Especially after she had a lawyer write up papers, absolving him of any rights or responsibilities to her or the child.
Which was a girl. Named Mary. Six pounds and seven ounces of little girl named Mary. First time he saw a picture of her, he actually cried after his shift was over. He helped make a six pound, seven ounce baby girl named Mary. And he wasn’t her Daddy.
2. He heard her-the mom-talk about her-Mary, the baby-all the time.
The first time he asked about it was when he got called away from the story of Mary’s first step.
“I heard your baby walked,” conversationally. “What happened?”
“It was so funny. My dad was visiting. He thought she was asleep and it would be a great time to wash her dirty old woobie. I’m sitting in the dining room near by and I hear this whimpering kinda whine and jump up to see-she climbed off the couch and ran after him to get it!”
3. Sometimes Greg sees them in his dreams. Mary and her mommy perfect and beautiful and-what had he given up? Now that he’s in the field it’s easier. Mostly he dreams about dead corpses and Mary and Mommy never fell in that category-thank God.
Nick said something once, though. They’re eating lunch in the break room alone and Greg asks him, “What’s a woobie? I heard you mention it once.”
He gets a weird look for it. “Something kids carry around. Like a security blanket. Did you have one?”
“Yeah,” Greg says, now that he thinks about it. “Fishy,”
4. “We shouldn’t do this,” Greg says the first time he sleeps with Nick. “Bad things happen,” he isn’t sure if he says out loud. Except that she swore it was a good thing that happened. Greg heard through the grapevine-snooping-that mother, daughter, and their new family died in a car crash. Hit by some punk stoner kid and why did it hurt Greg so much? He didn’t know them.
He doesn’t want to think about it. At all. So he buries his face in Nick’s hair and says, “We shouldn’t do this.”
But he doesn’t really mean it.
5. The puppies bark and yip and screw up Greg’s surprise, because he’d fallen asleep and didn’t hear the car pull up or the key in the door. When Nick comes back from Texas their carpet has some new stains, and Greg thinks maybe Nick notices them but the puppies are being so cute-he hopes they’re really cute when he does notice-and Nick is so shocked. That’s cute, too.
“Nick Stokes, meet Estelle,” Greg picks up the black-and-white puppy, “and Sylvester,” then the solid black one.
Nick looks at him meaningfully. “I’ve never had dogs with a boyfriend before.”
6. Estelle was scratching at the door when Nick came home. “Poor babies. Shoulda told Greg we didn’t have dog schedules.” Estelle and Sylvester-who are both boys but Greg said the inspiration struck him when Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot! was on TV-are running out the door before Nick thinks to react.
After they do their business they come back-he thinks they know something’s wrong. He ushers them in because he doesn’t want to cry in public. He doesn’t like being the one waiting for the other person in this relationship to be released from the hospital.
7. Seven years they’ve been together. Lucky number seven. Nick finds a baby picture like people pass around to friends. Hospital shot of a rosy, alien-like infant. “Mary” penned on the back with all her stats except her batting average. He pins it to the corkboard with pictures of his nieces and nephews.
Greg seems to think it’s the end of the world when he sees it. “You were going through my stuff?” Seething. “What were you looking for?”
“I...nothing! It was just there!”
Greg sneers. “Real nice to have my privacy invaded.” For the first time Nick worries, It’s over.
Kate Shelby, June 23, 2006
Feedback: Hell yes!
Challenge: First time challenge on crimeinthelight
Word count: Seven drabbles at one hundred words each.
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, things would be a lot different. And a lot more porny.
Spoilers: None, I think.
Rating: PGish?
Pairing: Greg/OFC, Nick/Greg
Note: My first fic in the CSI fandom, I think it’s kind of nifty for a firsts challenge. Firsts all around. Probably AU.
- - - - - - - - - -
1. Greg got the first coworker he slept with pregnant. Fresh out of undergraduate school, with bigger dreams. She swore it was his-he had no reason to not believe her. Especially after she had a lawyer write up papers, absolving him of any rights or responsibilities to her or the child.
Which was a girl. Named Mary. Six pounds and seven ounces of little girl named Mary. First time he saw a picture of her, he actually cried after his shift was over. He helped make a six pound, seven ounce baby girl named Mary. And he wasn’t her Daddy.
2. He heard her-the mom-talk about her-Mary, the baby-all the time.
The first time he asked about it was when he got called away from the story of Mary’s first step.
“I heard your baby walked,” conversationally. “What happened?”
“It was so funny. My dad was visiting. He thought she was asleep and it would be a great time to wash her dirty old woobie. I’m sitting in the dining room near by and I hear this whimpering kinda whine and jump up to see-she climbed off the couch and ran after him to get it!”
3. Sometimes Greg sees them in his dreams. Mary and her mommy perfect and beautiful and-what had he given up? Now that he’s in the field it’s easier. Mostly he dreams about dead corpses and Mary and Mommy never fell in that category-thank God.
Nick said something once, though. They’re eating lunch in the break room alone and Greg asks him, “What’s a woobie? I heard you mention it once.”
He gets a weird look for it. “Something kids carry around. Like a security blanket. Did you have one?”
“Yeah,” Greg says, now that he thinks about it. “Fishy,”
4. “We shouldn’t do this,” Greg says the first time he sleeps with Nick. “Bad things happen,” he isn’t sure if he says out loud. Except that she swore it was a good thing that happened. Greg heard through the grapevine-snooping-that mother, daughter, and their new family died in a car crash. Hit by some punk stoner kid and why did it hurt Greg so much? He didn’t know them.
He doesn’t want to think about it. At all. So he buries his face in Nick’s hair and says, “We shouldn’t do this.”
But he doesn’t really mean it.
5. The puppies bark and yip and screw up Greg’s surprise, because he’d fallen asleep and didn’t hear the car pull up or the key in the door. When Nick comes back from Texas their carpet has some new stains, and Greg thinks maybe Nick notices them but the puppies are being so cute-he hopes they’re really cute when he does notice-and Nick is so shocked. That’s cute, too.
“Nick Stokes, meet Estelle,” Greg picks up the black-and-white puppy, “and Sylvester,” then the solid black one.
Nick looks at him meaningfully. “I’ve never had dogs with a boyfriend before.”
6. Estelle was scratching at the door when Nick came home. “Poor babies. Shoulda told Greg we didn’t have dog schedules.” Estelle and Sylvester-who are both boys but Greg said the inspiration struck him when Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot! was on TV-are running out the door before Nick thinks to react.
After they do their business they come back-he thinks they know something’s wrong. He ushers them in because he doesn’t want to cry in public. He doesn’t like being the one waiting for the other person in this relationship to be released from the hospital.
7. Seven years they’ve been together. Lucky number seven. Nick finds a baby picture like people pass around to friends. Hospital shot of a rosy, alien-like infant. “Mary” penned on the back with all her stats except her batting average. He pins it to the corkboard with pictures of his nieces and nephews.
Greg seems to think it’s the end of the world when he sees it. “You were going through my stuff?” Seething. “What were you looking for?”
“I...nothing! It was just there!”
Greg sneers. “Real nice to have my privacy invaded.” For the first time Nick worries, It’s over.