Title: Addiction
By: Nancy
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Summary: Warrick needs some help dealing.
Warnings: just angst and bad language since it's technically a pre-slash snippet
Feedback: yes, please!
Archive: sure, just let me know!
Disclaimers: not mine, never will be darnit!

It was nights like these that the glitter of Las Vegas actually hurt his eyes. It would be the same in any city and logically, Warrick knew it. Then again, logic had nothing to do with addiction and the casinos looked so fucking appealing right then that he knew if he set even one toe inside any of them, he'd be lost.

That was the main reason he was sitting in his car parked outside Nick's townhouse at one in the morning. Had been sitting there for the last hour and a half. The case had ended, unusually, at sundown, the day-time shift jarring unpleasantly with his now night-tuned body. If he'd had a chance to get used to the brightness of the sun, maybe the darkness of the night wouldn't be trying to drown him.

A little girl, brutalized and murdered and not even buried properly by the killer. They'd solved it in record time, but only because the schizophrenic had been careless. His mind was etched with the stark grittiness of the crime scene. The girl, ten years old, pale hair, pale skin, and so fragile, like a porcelain doll. Catherine had taken one look at her and Warrick had thought she was going to lose it.

But they'd both pulled it together, working with one of the daytime detectives in lieu of Brass. Thank God, because working that case with Brass would have been too much. An arrest had been made only six hours after the body had been discovered. Thank God he hadn't had to talk to the parents. Seeing them after they'd identified the body had been enough to tear up his guts.

A tap at the window jolted him from his thoughts and Warrick saw Nick outside, arching an eyebrow at him through the window. He was dressed only in boxers and a t-shirt, and Warrick could see goosebumps raised against the cool desert air. Sighing, he opened the door instead of turning on the engine to lower the window.

Nick leaned against the side of the car and greeted, "Hey."

"Hey," Warrick replied, just as noncommittal.

"Heard you had a rough one. Want to come in?"

"Catherine called."

"Yeah."

"Sure," Warrick agreed abruptly, sliding out of his truck.

He noticed that Nick was barefoot as they crossed the street and that, for some reason, bothered him. Nick's feet look defenseless and small in the dark, which was stupid, he knew, but the thought persisted. They walked up the stairs to Nick's place and Warrick asked himself for the hundredth time what he was doing there.

Inside, Nick offered, "Beer?"

"Nah, thanks," Warrick declined. He was more than a little afraid that one vice would lead to another. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, the security guard did when he called," Nick replied, dry.

Warrick frowned. "Security guard?"

Nodding, Nick explained, "Yeah. They've got the license plates of you and Grissom in case one of you decides to sit outside for a couple hours and not come in."

"Grissom does that?" Warrick questioned, surprise lacing his voice.

Nick snorted, shaking his head as he sat on the couch. "You're a pair, the two of you. If you want to talk, just call me and come on up. Otherwise, the security guard does it for you and I have to decide if you need to talk, or just want to be left alone, but not really alone. It gets a little aggravating."

Wincing, Warrick apologized, "Sorry, Nick."

"Would you sit? You're making my neck hurt," Nick complained gently. "And then tell me what's wrong."

Instead of complying, Warrick paced away and looked out the bay window. The one Nick had gone flying through when Crane had pushed him out the second story. The reason that Nick now had a security service, where before he'd had the same immortal assurance of all men their age. "I wanted to go to The Sands tonight. Bad. I was thinking about odds and cards and math and how much I had in my bank account and who I could run up credit with. I was so close, Nick, you don't even know."

Nick stayed silent and Warrick sighed, not wanting to look at him and see the disappointment or sympathy. Not when Nick couldn't really understand. Nick was so clean that the burn in him that took Warrick away from reality, just for a little while, had to be incomprehensible to the other man.

He jumped in surprise when strong arms wound about his waist and Nick pressed up against him from behind, but didn't try to break from the embrace. Human contact felt so damn good, especially after the detachment with which he'd spent the day. And it wasn't like he got it from any other source. Hell, it wasn't like he'd gotten it from Nick, lately, either. Grissom had been pairing him almost exclusively with Catherine or Sara for a few months.

Resting his chin against Warrick's shoulder, Nick said, "I'm glad you came over here, instead."

Was he? This.thing.between them was damned unsettling to him and had to be equally as so for Nick. The thing where they were best friends, and then more than that, and then less than that, and then nothing at all except fighting competitors at work. Warrick had no comparison. He didn't know what to do about the attraction to his best friend and wasn't sure he wanted to do anything.

Most nights. But tonight wasn't most nights and he needed.something.

"It's okay, `Rick," Nick murmured, lips pressing to the back of his neck. "It's okay to need this."

"What if I need more?" Warrick whispered, uncertain.

A smile spread over his bare skin and Nick replied, "That's okay, too, man. Ball's always been in your court."

Warrick turned and looked into the wide, guileless eyes, seeing only concern and love. Was it always there? Did he miss it because he was too busy doing everything but looking at this man? Suddenly desperate to know, he demanded harshly, "What do you need, Nick? I need to gamble. And I need to be in control. And I need to win. But what do you need?"

"I have my own addiction, Warrick," Nick answered softly, honest. "Everyone does."

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"You."

Shock ran through him as blinding need was unshuttered, as if a blind had been drawn and Warrick was finally able to look inside the window to Nick's soul.

Nick nodded slow confirmation as he took in Warrick's understanding. "However and whatever you can give me, Warrick, that's what I need."

"What about Grissom?"

"What about him?"

"You said I'm not the only one who sits outside," Warrick reminded.

A bittersweet smile surfaced and Nick replied, "Maybe I'm Grissom's addiction, I don't know. All I do know is that you're the one I want, `Rick. The one I need."

They were so close that Warrick barely had to move to press his lips to Nick's. It was a slow, deep kiss. Something inside was eased as Nick's mouth opened to his, accepting his tongue as Warrick explored and tasted him. His hands gripped Nick's hips, holding him in place as they kissed forever. When he finally pulled back, Warrick stared into the dazed eyes and smiled, his heart rising to the occasion for the first time in way the hell too long.

Maybe it was time to change addictions.

END