Previous section of - Bleeding Love

***

December 6, 2002

Cruising Altitude: A thousand feet above Cloud 9

When Chad saw the cute blonde returning to his seat looking like the cat that ate the canary, he strolled down the aisle to congratulate him. "Way to go, buckaroo." He handed over a small certificate. "That's for your scrapbook."

Seeing 'Official Mile High Club Member' in red ink, Greg pretended he had earned the status instead of getting off on a technicality. "Thanks, I'm going to hang this on my fridge when I get home."

"I was bored, so I made you a congratulations gift bag too." The Flight Attendant proudly presented an airsickness bag stuffed with snacks and one more round of whisky. "I also figured you'd be thirsty after working up a sweat, so I put some bottled water in your seat pockets."

"Cool! Thanks!" Greg grabbed a pack of peanuts. "I'm starving."

"Uh oh, the sisters are looking for me." Chad pointed to the two nuns stretching in the aisle. "Or maybe you pinged their sin detectors and their looking to damn you and the cowboy to hell."

"I didn't know there were nuns on the plane."

"I love having nuns on my flights; it makes the passengers believe the plane won't crash and keeps them chilled."

Still thinking about what might have been, Greg whispered. "But I could have been busted by nuns."

"Yeah, too bad I didn't think to tell you sooner, it would have upped the taboo factor and made things even hotter." The flight attendant winked. "I'm going to help my sisters and then I'm taking a fifteen minute break. Enjoy the snacks, stud."

Greg cringed, feeling completely unworthy of the title. Losing control after twenty seconds of contact wasn't studly, it was juvenile, and he wondered if Nick would be able to look him in the eyes without laughing.

"Miss me?"

When Greg looked up and saw his buddy's familiar smile, he felt a twinge of optimism. "Yeah. You were gone so long I thought maybe you were parachuting out the back door to avoid me."

Grinning, the contented cowboy dropped into his window seat. "No, I was just back there makin' sure we didn't leave any evidence behind."

"In case the plane unexpectedly becomes a crime scene?"

"Hey, it happens, I've had to process four planes."

Greg burst into a grin. "Trust me, I couldn't take my eyes off the action and can confidently say that unless they swab your six pack, they won't find a trace."

"Okay, stop talkin' about it, or I'll be draggin' you back there for round two." Sliding to meet his mile high accomplice in the middle, Nick teased, "How long has it been since you spanked it, Speedy? Because it seemed like you were reeeeally locked and loaded."

Blushing, Greg averted his eyes. "I don't know. Like four days, maybe a week."

"Seriously?"

The lonely misfit half-joked, "To keep things fresh, my hand and I like to take a break from each other every now and then."

"See, I can't go that long. I get too tense."

"More tense than you usually are? Is that even possible?" Greg chuckled, "I guess I'll find that out first hand since we're sharing a room while you're under presentation pressure."

"First hand, huh?" Nick jumped at the offer. "Okay, if you insist, you can be my right hand man whenever I get too tense at the conference."

"Grissom told me when he comes to these things with you, you're tense 24/7."

"Yeah, 'cause he's not my type."

"HA!"

Patting his friend's thigh, he said, "But you and I can agree to be wank buddies, no strings attached. Honestly, it will be good for you not to be pent up when you go lookin' for your fantasy man. You'll be a lot less desperate, so won't lower your standards in the first ten minutes at the bar."

"And here I thought things might be awkward between us and you wouldn't want to look at me."

"Nah," Nick belly laughed, "the awkwardness won't hit us until we're sober. That's when we'll freak, agree to forget all this every happened, and avoid looking at each other as much as possible."

"Oh." Trying to delay their return to sobriety, Greg held up two whisky bottles. "Chad gave us a gift bag."

"Mmm." Nick twisted open the bottle and raised it. "Congrats on your mile high achievement, G."

"Technically I'm really not…"

"There's always the return flight," Nick teased before tapping his whisky to Greg's and downing it. "Good thing I brought B6 and aspirin, 'cause we're gonna be hung later." After wiping his lips, he pawed at the airsickness bag. "What else is in there? I'm starving."

After gulping the contents of his bottle, Greg started pulling out the items. "Pretzels, peanuts, cheese and crackers, Lorna Doone cookies and…what's this?" He grabbed the piece of paper sitting at the bottom of the bag. "Chad's cell phone number on a note that says he has a layover in Pittsburgh on Monday." He chuckled, "It also says 'meet me at Sparx at eleven, boys. You owe me three drinks, but I'm open to alternative suggestions if your relationship is." Glancing over he quizzically said, "Relationship…he thinks we're a couple?"

"I guess so." Nick snatched the paper and stuffed it in his jeans. "At least we know which club to go to when we're lookin' for your Mr. Right. As hot as he is, trust me, Chad doesn't slum it." He winked. "Maybe I'll hook up with him after you leave me to run off with Brian Kinney."

"I wouldn't." Greg lunged for a water bottle and twisted it open.

"Wouldn't what?" Watching his buddy chug the cool liquid, Nick became aware of his own thirst. "Can I have a sip of your water?"

"Anytime." Smiling he handed it over. "Because what's a little fluid exchange between wank buddies, right?"

After almost choking on his sip, Nick said, "Hey, before I sober up and freak out about all this, I just want to say…I'm havin' the best time in a long time, and I'm not just talkin' about the fireworks in the bathroom."

"Me too," Greg quietly answered while trying to fish peanuts out of their tiny bag. "I'm never going to be able to use a bathroom without thinking about you."

"That's really sweet, G…and pretty gross."

"Yeah, I realized that at soon as I said it, but it's true." Feeling the heat of Nick's gaze, he stammered, "I…okay…since you've been opening up and telling me personal things all night, I'll be honest with you…that was by far the most intense thing I've done with anyone ever." His nerves getting to him, Greg retreated to humor and overtalking. "Which is really pretty amazing considering I paid like a thousand bucks to party with a girl at the Bunny Ranch on the eve of my 23rd birthday. I know, I know, pathetic, but I had this deadline of 23 in my head, and I wasn't having any luck finding the right person so I decided to go the legal professional route, and since there aren't any legal male professionals, I ended up at the Ranch with Amber, who was really nice and definitely knowledgeable, but going around the world with her was nothing compared to being in that bathroom with you. With you everything was a hundred times hotter, which is funny considering Amber and I were naked, but you and I kept our underwear on, or mostly on. So, um…thanks for helping me figure out my place on the Kinsey Scale, and I want to let you know, that I normally wear better underwear, these are just really broken in and comfortable for flying long distances." Realizing he sounded like a blabbering idiot, he tossed a handful of nuts in his mouth to keep him from talking.

Too overwhelmed to react to anything else, Nick asked, "How are the peanuts?"

After swallowing, Greg anxiously replied, "Good Want a taste?" With a shaky hand, he offered the bag.

"Yeah." Wrapping his fingers around the back of his friend's neck, he pulled him close, and initiated a series of tantalizingly slow kisses, each one deeper and longer than the last.

"Whoa," the love struck drunk blurted, "I felt those down to my toes, Tex. I've never been kissed like that before."

"You mean Thousand Dollar Amber didn't make your toes curl when she smooched ya?"

"No, but in all fairness to her, that wasn't listed on the menu as part of the package."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Nick heatedly whispered before consuming his friend's mouth again.

It wasn't just the public locale that made the normally private man's decision to kiss his friend so uncharacteristic, it was the kissing itself. Ever since suffering through the devastating consequences of loving a man, he had imposed a strict policy against intimacy with guys. He still kissed women on dates, because it was a necessary part of the ruse to prop his image, and because he knew it wouldn't lead to love and ultimately heartache. But since the policy went into effect, he only sought physical gratification from guys who weren't interested in anything more than dropping to their knees or facing the wall. He never brought anyone home. He never gave out his phone number. He never stuck around for anything more than a shower. He never let himself feel anything, but the release of physical tension…and he was always in control. Then Nigel Crane stalked and attacked him, and suddenly spending time with strangers, male or female, lost its appeal.

"G..."

"Please don't stop. It feels…"

"So good." Nick couldn't refrain long enough to complete a sentence. "We shouldn't…not here…I don't do PDAs."

"Just one more round," Greg pleaded, fearing that once they landed, his buddy would have a change of heart and cut him off from affection. "Please."

Nick responded by ignoring his better judgment and throwing everything he was feeling into a soul-reaching kiss.

---

Steve, it was that kiss that sealed the deal. Yeah…after that kiss I knew Greta was someone I needed in my life. Not that I told her that until almost two years later.

Two years?

Yeah, but when I did, I found out she already knew…she had known since that outbound flight. Which meant she knew I was lyin' every time I had shown up on her door during those two years saying 'This doesn't mean we're together, I just don't feel like going home today because…' I would fill in that blank with a stressful case or some other bullshit reason, but the truth was I just needed her.

That must have been one hell of a kiss.

It was.

"Wow," Grissom found another opportunity to keep the mood light. "I thought Nick had a strict 'no PDA' rule? At least that's what you told me when I accused you of fooling around in a Denali. But what's one more lie to the boss, right?"

"Nick does have a no PDAs in public rule, and for the last time, we weren't fooling around in the Denali that day, we really were just grabbing twenty minutes of sleep while pulling a double. That was over a year ago and Catherine vouched for us. I can't believe you're still suspicious."

"Like Catherine didn't owe Nick a cover up story, or twelve, after he'd been watching her mix business with pleasure for years?"

"Trust me, I've tried to get Mr. Responsibility to take a five minute break and fool around on the job like everyone else, but I struck out every time, because he was adamant that we'd get busted." Shaking his head, Greg explained, "Not that I can blame him for being paranoid. 99 percent of the time, Nick follows his enormous list of self-imposed personal accountability rules, but he's that unlucky overly responsible guy who pays the price that one percent of the time he stops worrying and overanalyzing everything just long enough to venture out of his safety zone While truly bad people can do bad things and get away with them 99 percent of the time."

"I vaguely remember him telling me something similar during the Kristy Hopkins case."

"Yeah, that's a perfect example. How many guys break the law and pay to sleep with prostitutes every night in this town and no one finds out about their illegal activity, but Nick falls into bed with one for free and in a matter of hours, the girl ends up dead and the entire department thinks Nick pays for sex and is a murderer? And what about when 'Mr. Be Frugal and Save Your Money' decided after months of deliberating that he should spend some of his hard earned cash on the deluxe sports package? His cable guy ends up stalking him. And I'm sure he won't be telling Steve the real reason that kiss was significant, but that's another great example."

Grissom's eyebows rose with his curiosity. "What can possibly be more embarrassing than what I've already heard?"

Moving closer, Greg whispered, "That kiss was the first time Nick let his guard down and got romantic with a guy in a public place. Care to guess what happened?"

The scientist blurted the first thing that popped into his mind, "While the two of you were attached at the mouth, the plane flew into a downward wind current, which caused a sudden and significant drop in altitude that resulted in you reflexively biting through Nick's tongue?"

"A very logical answer, and one to be expected from a brainiac, but that didn't happen. Although I'm sure Nick would have preferred your scenario if given a choice."

---

December 6, 2002

Cruising Altitude: Just south of Heaven

When 58 year old Sister Mary Margaret noticed the sign was gone that indicated the rear lavatory was closed for cleaning, she grabbed her Reader's Digest and decided to take a stroll for some privacy. Even the extra fiber in her cereal wasn't helping expedite matters these days, and she didn't want to inconvenience anyone by occupying the more centrally located bathrooms for an inordinate amount of time, or making people deal with a foul odor in a confined space. After all, it was a public place, and she couldn't selfishly engage in any behavior that might offend someone. "OH!"

The sound of a woman's voice startled the romantically preoccupied men and when they opened their eyes to see the source of the sound, they both gasped at the sight of a tiny shocked nun clutching a Reader's Digest.

"I'm fine!" Mary Margaret yelled back to her travel mate who had heard her shriek. "I thought I was slipping. There's no reason to come back here."

Nick used the distraction to slide as far away from Greg as possible and grab the blanket he had been using earlier. Pulling it up to his neck, he stared out the window and tried to will the woman away.

When the nun turned her attention back to the men, she whispered, "Sister Agnes isn't as compassionate as I am when it comes to your situation."

"Situation?" Greg parroted, while dividing his attention between observing Nick's strange behavior and not being rude to the lady who chose not to make a huge scene over two guys passionately kissing in a public aircraft.

"Young man, I'm sure you've been preached to and shouted at in your years, so let me make this clear, what I am about to say is not about judgment, it's about love…my love for a fellow lost soul and it's rooted in empathy." Mary Margaret, a firm believer in divine intervention, compassionately smiled at the boy. "There are no accidents. We've met for a reason. Let me be a friend and help you, as someone once helped me. What's your name?"

"Uh…Greg." His blood alcohol level still rising from the whisky he had just gulped, it was hard to believe the surreal situation was actually happening.

"I'm Sister Mary Margaret. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He anxiously shook her hand. "Hello." Considering the man who had just been rocking his world was now mute and under a blanket in fetal position, and a tiny cherub-faced nun was trying to befriend him at 30,000 feet, he quickly came to the conclusion he might actually be dreaming everything. Ugh! I should have known the bathroom and the kissing weren't real, nothing that exciting ever happens to me! That also explains the creepy almost empty plane and the hot flight attendant calling me a stud.

Sensing the young man was conflicted, the sister reached out. "I was in the your situation once - feeling as though I had no choice but to act on the desires that plagued me, believing that I was born differently and therefore predestined to live an unnatural life apart from my family and God. It is simply not true. I am living proof that urges can be suppressed and permanently denied."

"You mean like celibacy? Forever?" Greg shivered at the thought. "That has to be torture, because I was really sick of it after only 23 years."

"A celibate life isn't a tragedy; it's an opportunity to redirect your energy away from sin and toward meaningful and fulfilling work."

"I really want to be a CSI!" Greg blurted like a kid on a career day. "That's meaningful work and very fulfilling, much better than being a Lab Rat trapped in a glass cage. CSIs actually get to solve murders and give the victims' families closure. My buddy under the blanket is a CSI III. We're going to a Forensics conference together. I'm just a DNA Tech who was brought along to present a few technical things, but Nick is the star. He's the person who inspired me to want to be a CSI. Wait…" Greg whispered to the nun, "You can see him, right? Or is this really a dream?"

"Let's not worry about your co-worker and just focus on you, dear." A dedicated servant to those in need, Sister Mary Margaret loved the young man's career choice. "Helping those who can not help themselves is one of the most important calls we are challenged to answer in this lifetime. So you are already on a righteous path, now all you have to do is stop engaging in sinful acts."

"Honestly, I've barely engaged in anything."

"That's wonderful news, Greg, because the less time you've spent feeding your addiction, the less time required to break it."

"Addiction?" The song Addicted to Love popped into his head and he sang along for a minute.

"Like with any addiction, the first steps are to admit you have a problem and then put distance between yourself and what tempts you. Just like an alcoholic can't kick the habit in a bar, you won't be able to change your ways if you keep sitting with sexually aggressive men on dark airplanes."

Nick gripped his blanket tighter and fought to silence the voices in his head. Wade was controlling you, Nick. He observed you while you were working in the campus bookstore together and he only befriended you because he sensed you were vulnerable and knew he could exploit you. He's a sexually aggressive deviant and he doesn't love you…but your father does. No matter how strict he's been with you, no matter how much time he spends at his office, he loves you. Everything you're feeling for Wade or other males…it all stems from you not believing your father loves you. Because you didn't get the time you needed with him, you're subconsciously looking to all the wrong places to fill that void.

Finally tuning out the song in his head, Greg refocused on the nun. "Uh…what?"

"I won't lie, it's not easy at first, but all you need to understand right now is that it's possible. Are you from Vegas? I run a gay and lesbian support group at Saint Cecelia's Annex every Tuesday and Friday. The rest of the time you'll find me in the food bank or the soup kitchen."

Finally Greg heard something he could relate to. "Growing up, I worked with my mom stocking shelves in the food pantry at our church, and once a month we'd volunteer together at the soup kitchen. It was scary at first, but I really liked it after a while. I could tell we were helping people."

"Wonderful. Family support is so important in the beginning, because it's a serious leap of faith to believe that the joy of grace can surpass carnal pleasures, but if you can find the courage inside you to make that leap, you'll learn what I'm saying is true. Being a homosexual isn't a sin, just the lifestyle behaviors are. There are many of us within the church community living a chaste life and we'll be there to support you every step of the way."

"With all due respect, and I mean that, I respect you," Greg chuckled, "because you're a nun who walks the walk, not a fundie hypocrite lecturing me on morality and compassion before stepping over homeless people in the street on your way to a secret sex club…that really happened by the way."

"My favorite is the old windbag who speaks out on the evils of booze and gambling in Vegas, then drives to Reno to play cards, get drunk, and cheat on his wife."

"While their wife is back in Vegas at the secret sex club spending the clueless husband's cash."

"But it all works out when they reunite on Sunday in the front row of the mega church where they make sure everyone sees them hold hands and drop an envelope in the collection basket."

"Exactly!" Greg chuckled again. "That's my fundamental problem in a nutshell."

"Mine too, but you do realize they're not all like that. It just seems that way because the hypocrites are the loud mouths with nothing but time on their hands, while the ones truly following the Word go unnoticed because they're too busy actually doing the Lord's work to seek attention."

"Do you know who said, "You must be the change you seek in the world?"

"Gandhi."

Greg smiled and said, "Okay, we agree that hypocrites are annoying and there needs to be more compassion in the world, but not the other stuff. Sorry. I believe I was put on this Earth to live and love, not exist and suffer, so I'm gonna pass on your support group, but if you need any volunteers in the soup kitchen, I'll sign up for some shifts."

"We can always use an extra pair of hands, Greg. We serve lunch every day between eleven and one and dinner at five on Sundays." Having faith that a seed was firmly planted in the young man's mind, Mary Margaret peacefully smiled. "I hope to see you there. I'm going to Pittsburgh to speak at a conference on urban poverty, but I'll be back in Vegas on Thursday. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the restroom."

"Have fun." He covered his mouth with his hand. "I didn't mean…I know that's a Reader's Digest and not a…what I meant to say was…it was nice meeting you."

Suddenly concerned how it would look if she remained in the lavatory for twenty minutes, she smiled and pointed toward the other bathrooms. "Actually, I think I'll use the one up there."

As soon as the nun was gone, Greg slid to towards the window. "What's going on?" When he touched his friend's arm, he could tell he was shaking. "Talk to me."

His eyes fixed on the dark window, Nick shook his head.

"I just realized you've been telling me stuff for hours, but you've never answered my original question." In a gentle whisper, he prodded, "Why did you have a panic attack in the cab? You said you would tell me if I promised to take it to the grave and I did." He gave his buddy's arm a supportive squeeze. "Tell me."

"I…" The words caught in his throat.

"Okay, then I'll try and piece together the clues myself." Greg took a shot. "Two religious older women trying to convince you you're going to hell if you're actively gay. Do they remind you of your mother and make you feel guilty? Or make you think your mom wouldn't love you if she knew the truth?" In his whisky haze, he remembered some of Nick's earlier words 'If I tell you this, you gotta take it to the grave, understand? And I'd know it was you who blabbed if you did, because only two people in this world know what happened and one is dead and other one hasn't said a word about it in since it all went down.' "Wait…you said something went down and only two people know…you didn't accidentally kill a religious woman or…"

"No." Nick sucked in some oxygen through his nostrils, released it, and then faced his friend and his fears. "I…You know how I told you no one in my family ever figured out my secret? That's not true."

Seeing the agony in his friend's eyes, Greg reached out for his hand. "Your mom?"

"My father." He pulled in a jagged breath. "My sophomore year at A&M."

"He's known you're gay for almost ten years and…"

"No." Tears pooling in his eyes, Nick shook his head. "He thinks I was fixed."

"Fixed?" The word didn't sit right.

"This is really hard," the troubled man confessed.

"Tell me." Greg clutched the trembling hand he was holding. "You can trust me. I swear on my mother's life. I would never say or do anything to hurt you. Just let it out, whatever it is…I'm staying right here."

"I was so happy." The first tear of many streaming down his cheek, Nick whispered, "If I could go back, I would've stood up to him. I wish I would've been brave enough to use the words you said in the cab, or to that nun…but I wasn't confident like you, I terrified. He was gonna tell everyone. He was gonna take everything I had ever known away from me if I didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Greg kept waiting for a murder confession to pop up somewhere. "What did he do? What happened? Who's dead?"

After keeping the pain buried for nine years, Nick decided to unearth his painful past. "I met him when I started my co-op job at bookstore…"

***

College Station, Texas

January 1992

Happy to have a job now that football season was over, Nick hurried to the off-campus bookstore, to claim the position he had received through student services. After knocking on the front door, he saw a ponytailed girl walking by. "I was told to come here at closin' time to pick up some paperwork."

After being let inside, he proceeded as directed to the Customer Service desk where he saw a guy facing the wall, trying to fix a shelf. "Howdy."

Wade Tomlin, a senior at A&M and the assistant manager of the bookstore, stopped what he was doing to turn around and return the greeting with a customary smile. "Howdy."

"Uh...I'm Nick." Expecting a bookstore nerd, he was thrown by the guy's Hollywood smile and rugged cowboy appearance. "Stokes." He extended his hand.

"Wade Tomlin, Assistant Manager." He returned the handshake and gave the guy wearing an Aggie football sweatshirt a stealthy but thorough scan

"I'm supposed to start workin' here tomorrow, but I was told to stop by today and pick up some stuff I had to read and sign." Tall and lean, with tousled dirty-blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and broad shoulders, he was everything Nick wanted in a man but couldn't have…since he was desperately trying to be exclusively heterosexual and fit in with the other guys on the team."

Wade lounged against the back counter. "Let me guess." He loved to pester jocks. "Football season's over and you want to make little cash so you can buy beer and take your girl out on Saturday night."

"Yeah," Nick laughed, relieved that he was giving off a strong hetero vibe even though he couldn't peel his eyes off the roguishly posed cowboy.

"And you didn't want a food services job, because you were afraid you'd pack on the post-season pounds."

"That and I hate how the smell of the fryer grease sticks with ya even after a shower." Nick grinned and fortified his stance as a womanizing red-blooded American male who loved babes, booze, and playin' ball. "It turns off the ladies and cuts into my action."

"Right," Wade groaned. "Okay, Stokes." As he had done many times over the years that he had worked at the store, he grabbed a new employee information packet and plopped it down on the counter.

"Are you a freshman?"

"Yeah."

"What's your major?"

"Chemistry."

"Really?" The guy didn't look like a lab rat. "Okay, since you're a science major, I have to ask - what was the last fiction book you read that wasn't for a class?"

"There's an interview? But I was told I had the job." He had already called his father to report he would be working in a bookstore, so the last thing he wanted to do was have to call home and change his story.

"You only have to answer that question and complete the forms."

"Oh. Okay." Nick relaxed. "Last fiction book I read that wasn't for a class? Why do you…"

"We don't only sell textbooks and Aggie gear here, we're a full service bookstore so it's important that our employees are well read."

"Right. Yeah. That makes sense." Regretting he passed over the job at Bubba's Burger Barn, Nick anxiously shifted in place and tried to think of a book he had read in high school that wouldn't sound like a book he had to read. "I thought I was gonna work in the back, unloadin' boxes and stockin' shelves and stuff, not givin' people my thoughts on books."

"A customer could talk to you when you're stockin' shelves, right?" Anticipating it would be a while, Wade took a seat. "Store's closed, so I've got time…and inventory reports to read."

Too distracted by the sight of the outrageously sexy cowboy leaning back in his chair with his worn boots up on the desk, Nick faced the other way and searched his memory. "Tom Sawyer!" He finally exclaimed. "I read it with grandpa every night for a week. It's a great book!"

"How old were you?"

"I dunno know. Ten?"

Shaking his head, Wade rose from his chair. "Sorry, I don't think this is gonna work out."

"I can read!" Nick fought to save his job and avoid calling his dad to say he got fired before he even started. "I've just haven't had a lot of free time! I was always goin' to school, workin' a job, playin' ball, or doin' chores. I was the only kid left at home, so I had to do a heck of a lot of chores. C'mon…just gimme a chance. Please?"

Keeping a straight face, Wade continued his new employee hazing ritual. "Well, we have let employees prove their ability to comprehend and discuss literature by readin' a book, but you'd have to read it tonight and be ready to discuss it with the manager before your shift tomorrow."

"Great! Gimme a book!"

"Pick one out and buy it."

"I can't, I'm broke. I wasn't allowed to have a job during the season."

"I don't remember seein' you on Kyle field."

"I only got to play for four minutes during the SMU game…when we were up by 35." Unlike high school where he was a star under the Friday night lights, at A&M, he was barely hanging onto his place on the team. If it weren't for his brother's record and his family being alum for generations, he probably would have been shown the door. "It's only my first year. I'm gonna work on my speed from now until practice starts up, and I'm sure I'll see more time on the field next year."

"Okay, okay, I feel like I'm kickin' a puppy, so..." Wade selected from the stack he had under his desk. "Here." He tried not to laugh. "You can borrow this one from the store."

Staring at the cover of Little Women, Nick grumbled, "Do I have to read a book about tiny chicks?"

"Only if you want the job, Sport."

Nick tucked the book under his jacket so no one would see it and assume he was queer. "See you tomorrow!"

---

December 9, 2002

"There really was no reading requirement." A bittersweet smile edged over Nick's lips. "When I showed up the next afternoon, he couldn't believe I actually read the book cover to cover and had six pages of notes, because most people just browsed the Cliff notes and hoped that was enough. That's when I broke down and told him that I was scared of losin' the job, because then I'd have to call my dad. The Judge's rule was that all Stokes kids worked during college except during sports season. I was expected to be working on day one of the Spring semester and he had already called askin' where I'd be workin'. He felt really bad for hazing me and promised he'd make it up to me by giving me whatever hours I needed, and helping me get an A in my Eng Lit class with Professor Hastings, who he warned me was hard ass who hated jocks."

"Did he follow through? Greg impatiently asked, wanting to know every detail as soon as possible.

"Yeah, I was practically workin' full time and he helped me score an A on my first paper with Hastings. By the end of the month, we were good friends and I was crushin' on him big time, but I thought he was straight and I was tryin' really hard not to be attracted to guys, so I wasn't gonna say anything."

"But at some point…"

"Yeah." Nick gushed a smile. "Wade was a Recreation, Parks, and Tourism major with a minor in Lit. I thought was an odd combination, but he told me his favorite thing to do as a kid was to hang out in the forest and read in the peace and quiet. He had plenty of opportunity, because his dad was a park ranger at Angelina – that's East Texas, close to Louisiana. That's what he wanted to do too…work for the National Park Service. Anyway, at the beginning of April, he told me he'd be gone for four days workin' on his senior project in the Davy Crockett National Forest and then stoppin' to see his mom in Lufkin. His dad has passed on when he was in high school. By April my crush was completely outta control, and I couldn't imagine not seein' him for four days when I was used to seein' him every day."

"He was clueless about the crush?"

"So I thought," Nick gently laughed. "He asked if I liked to go camping, and I was like hell, yeah, I grew up campin'! I'm an Eagle Scout! I love campin'! He casually said we could probably find someone to cover my hours if I wanted to come along, that he had plenty of gear if I didn't have a tent or a sleeping bag. It took me two seconds to say yes and yell across the store 'Hey, Marcie! You want my hours for this week?' and then I rushed out of there to pack a bag even though we wouldn't be leavin' until the next morning."

"Going camping with your crush," Greg smiled, "Probably not a smart idea if your crush is straight."

"At that point, I didn't care if I ever touched him, I just loved bein' with him, because he was calm, and smart, and he didn't give a shit about frat life or football. He was fun and relaxing to be around. A needed breath of fresh air in my stressed to the max lifestyle." Nick smiled at his buddy. "Kinda like you,Greggo."

The insecure geek was thrilled to hear the compliment and the comparison.

"We left the next morning at sunrise, and after not leavin' campus for months, it felt great just to get out of town. Then, when we got to Davy Crockett, he showed me the map of his project area and told me we'd have to leave his jeep behind and hike in four miles."

"Totally alone in the forest with your crush."

"Yeah, I couldn't have been more pleased about that," Nick chuckled, recalling his happiness. "After hikin' in, we tossed our packs, and grabbed some water. It was a beautiful spot – teeming with big pines and it was a perfectly clear day. I was lookin' up and sayin' how great the location was when I felt Wade step behind me and rest his hands on my shoulders. That one touch sent a jolt though my entire body, and without even thinkin' about it, I rested my back against his chest, and soon as I did, he wrapped his arms around me. We just stood there like that for five minutes – both facin' the same view of the forest and not sayin' a word. Then finally he whispered in my ear, 'I've wanted to give you a hug since the first day we met, only then it was because I felt sorry for you, but now it's because I'm crazy about you. I wasn't sure you felt the same way, but then I saw your reaction to my camping offer, and I figured that crazy sprint you did to pack your bags had to mean something'."

"That had to blow your mind."

"Lookin' back, I'm surprised I didn't faint." Nick joyously told the next part. "I couldn't get any words to come out of my mouth, so I turned around to face him. The next thing I knew we were kissing and I felt like I won the lottery." He chuckled, "Then I geeked out and panicked, because the last time I thought I was lucky, I ended up bein' Dan's bed slave for hours. Now here I am alone in the woods with a guy who is carryin' a freakin' shot gun."

"Doh."

"Because I was having a panic attack in the middle of the forest, Wade wanted to know what was wrong. I give him the short version of my nasty first time story, and like you…he was horrified to hear what happened. Then he assured me he didn't bring me out to the woods to role-play Deliverance, that he would be content if we just sat by the campfire in each other's arms."

"So, you decided to trust him?" Greg hoped so, because he wanted more details of love in the great outdoors.

"He had always been a man of his word, right from when he promised me more hours and an A on my paper. The trust, like our friendship, was already there. Once I calmed down, I realized that."

"It's good to be friends first." The younger man with a serious crush hoped it didn't sound like he was talking about his own hopes for the future.

"Definitely. That night, after cozying up by the campfire for a while, I said I wanted to pretend Dan never happened and have a new first time. Without another word, he took my hand, kissed it, and took me into to the tent to replace the horrible memory with an amazing one. By the end of the four days my crush had turned to love. I didn't want to leave the woods and get back to reality."

"How did you make it work at school?"

"We had two months of sneakin' everything, but with Wade's family's connections, we got summer jobs together with the Park Service, and got to share a trailer, that was heaven, but when summer was over, it wasn't easy, and it was very frustrating, especially once football season started up again. The worst part was when I had to be one of the boys. We had this huge win one weekend and I had the game of my life. There was a wild party and since I had caught my first TD, the guys wanted to reward me. When you have no steady girlfriend or fiancée, and some slut slams you into the wall and drops to her knees in a room with your brothers cheering you on, you're not gonna say 'sorry, but I don't want to cheat on my boyfriend'."

Trying to be helpful a decade later, Greg suggested, "You could have said you had herpes."

"And have that get back to my folks?" Nick shook his head. "Wade knew there were going to be a few times where'd I have no choice. I had to go along with queer jokes too, that was fun. At least with Wade starting Grad School, he got his own apartment, so we had a safe place to be alone. The guys knew I worked with him at the bookstore and absolutely believed he was my tutor, because they were all scared to death of my father and had no trouble buying that the Judge demanded straight A's if I was gonna stay on the team."

"So, your grades were better with Wade, but what about your gridiron scores?"

"I had a phenomenal season." Content to stay lost in the positive memories, Nick grinned. "All the guys thought I played better because I wasn't stressin' about my grades and my dad pullin' me from the team. Wade and I used to laugh in bed and say if they only knew what really caused the improvement. Besides all the canoeing, hiking, and climbing over the summer helpin' my stamina," he laughed, "my leg flexibility improved from having my ankles on Wade's shoulders all the time. Some players did yoga and ballet in private…"

"He always topped?" Greg blurted, finding it hard to believe a control freak like Nick would like the arrangement. "Sorry, that's kinda personal, although we have gotten pretty close during the flight, so maybe it's not. Is it? I don't think it is."

"It wasn't like he was like a power hog who wouldn't let me, we switched things up every now and then, but…" Nick shook his head. "I can't talk about this."

Hoping the whisky would still make Nick uninhibited, Greg pleaded, "Come on, except for what I've learned from Queer as Folk, I have no idea how gay relationships really work and those guys are all dysfunctional anyway."

"Well, I've only had one relationship, so I can't really say what's normal, but for us…the reason I loved bein' with Wade from day one was that I could let my guard down around him. Unlike every member of my family, every teammate, every fraternity brother, I didn't feel like I was in competition with him. I didn't have to be overachieving and over stressed around him. He'd tell me I was workin' too hard and force me to stop straightening book shelves and read at the counter. I thought that was slacking and couldn't do it, but then he told it was good for business for girls to come in and see a jock reading."

"Because if they saw a football player could read literature, they'd know anyone could."

"That's exactly what he said!" Nick laughed. "See…that's just it, he made me laugh, and never demanded anything from me. He was the only person I could totally relax around, so when it came to our love life, I wanted it to stay that way. It was my shred of time where I could completely let go and not feel responsible for anything." Chuckling, he added, "Plus bottoming and a hot shower was the quickest way to stretch my legs out after a long football practice."

"How long did you guys stay together like that?"

"Usually about thirty minutes start to finish, unless one of us had a lot of homework."

"I meant in the relationship."

"Oh." Sad to have to move on to the unhappy ending, Nick sighed, "Eleven perfect months. Yeah, one minute life was perfect and then…" After hesitating for a moment, he decided to continue. "I didn't have a car at school. That was another Stokes rule – no car on campus until you maintained at least a 3.5 for four semesters. My parents were throwin' this big shindig, a fundraiser for a congressman, so I had to go home for Spring Break. My sister was at school in Austin, and she always picked me up on the way home and she was always at least an hour late. No exceptions."

---

College Station, Texas

March 1993

"I'm all packed and ready to go," Nick announced as he rushed into his boyfriend's studio apartment. "My sister's supposed to be at my room any minute, but she'll be at least an hour, so I ran back over here to spend a little more time."

"I knew you would." Wade teased as he stepped out from behind the open refrigerator door, wearing only a pair of ripped and unbuttoned faded Levis. "Are you sure I can't come with ya? Maybe the Judge would be less judgmental than you think"

"No, I'm 99.9 percent certain he'd kill us both." Watching his shirtless lover open a carton of eggs made Nick hungry for cowboy and omelet. "I didn't eat anything yet." He had spent the night and left before dawn that morning.

"I figured." Wade held up an egg. "I was gonna make you your favorite omelet, so you'd have something to remember me by for two and half weeks."

As he liked to do when his boyfriend was cooking for him, Nick slipped his arms around his waist from behind and kissed his shoulder. "You should call and say the bookstore needs me back early."

"Are you sure? Because we already used that one in January."

"They won't care about me once the party's over, they just need all the kids there to prop the perfect family image." He dispensed another kiss. "And they'll like hearing I'm a valued employee. They did the last time."

"You don't have to convince me." Done whisking the eggs, he turned around and cupped his partner's face. "I'm the one who didn't want you to go in the first place."

"It's always going to have to be like this," Nick gulped, hoping Wade could deal with the reality that he was never going to come out to his family.

"I know." After a kiss, he whispered, "But someone has to look out for you, Nicky, because you were nothin' but a stressed out, ulcer-prone head case the day you walked into the bookstore." He winked and returned to their eggs. "And hell, there are far worse jobs than lovin' you and keepin' it a secret."

"Pig farming?" Nick half-joked as he hopped up onto the counter.

"I was thinkin' commercial fisherman off Nova Scotia." After dumping the eggs into a heated frying pan, Wade grinned, "I saw a documentary on swordfish boats, and damn…those guys really suffer. They probably don't have sit home and let their significant others get blow jobs from girls, but they freeze their asses off , work sixteen hour days, and can't go for a walk when they need one, so who am I to complain?"

Nick tried to joke about it, "Yeah, and that last girl was so bad at it, I couldn't even close my eyes and pretend it was you."

"What are ya gonna have to do at home to prove you're a real man?" He tried not to sound worried.

"I have it all planned out. I'm gonna tell girls at home that I can't go out, because I have someone special at A&M, then when I get back here, I'm gonna tell the guys I hooked up with a girl from back home, and she could be the one…and a southern gentleman doesn't cheat on a girl who's gonna carry his babies, so they'll leave me alone."

"Aren't you tired of livin' three different lives? Dallas, A&M, us…I'm not even sure how you tell people so many stories without slippin' up."

"I've been forced to become an excellent storyteller." With his eyes and his voice, he pleaded, "Two more years Then I'll have my Bachelor's and you'll have your Master's and we can wave goodbye to Texas as we drive off into the sunset and away from anyone who knows me. The way my sisters are pumpin' out babies, my parents are gonna be all about the grandkids and forget I exist. You'll get your dream job in the forest, and I'll get a job where it's easy to believe I have to work holidays, and then we don't have to be apart then either. It'll work."

"Eggs are done."

Fear edging into his voice, Nick quietly asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, and it's serious," Wade replied, after swallowing a bite of eggs. "I forgot the salt and everything else that would have made this an omelet."

Fearing that it really was going to be something serious, Nick glared at his partner. "You suck."

"Yeah, I do…much better than an Aggie fangirl." Grinning, he held up a bite of the non-omelet. "I love you. I love your plan. I apologize for ruining breakfast." After thrusting the bite into his lover's mouth, he said, "You're worth waiting for, Nicky…two weeks, two years, I'll be here."

His heart soaring, the relieved boyfriend replied, "These are the worst eggs you've ever made me. I love you too. Thank you."

Wade dumped the failed omelet into the sink. "All part of my plan, so we'd have time for somethin' else." He whisked his partner off the counter and into his arms. "Since the eggs were a bust, I'll have to give you this to remember me by." Joking, he slammed him up against the wall, dropped to his knees, and did his best Aggie fangirl impression, "I can't wait to tell my girlfriends that I tasted what Aggie football stars are made of! You're gonna give me your t-shirt after I do this, right?"

"You know the rules, sweetheart…you only get a player's shirt if you chug or bend over."

"Ugh." The non-jock rolled his eyes. "Just one of the many fine traditions we have here in Aggieland."

"I wonder why they don't promote that one in the prospective student flyer?"

Rising to his feet, Wade said, "Do we have time for a proper sendoff?"

Nick checked his watch. "Thirty minutes of fun, five minutes to shower, and five minutes to get back to my place."

"Tick tock." Rushing his hands under his perpetually time-stressed mate's shirt, he laughed, "I can't wait for you to spend a week with your family and come back to me a tightly wound, over-stressed, pent-up mess."

"Nothin' a little quality time with you won't fix." After several minutes of heated foreplay, Nick grew impatient and faced the counter. "These will be my last stress-free minutes for a while." The bump of his lover's heated body made him frantically pop open his jeans and shove them and his briefs to his ankles."

Wade tried to slow things down with a kiss. "Why are you rushin', Sporto?"

Eyes locked on his partner's, he vulnerably replied, "Because I'm already gettin' tense thinkin' about dealin' with everyone back home. I just want to feel instead of think."

After a lingering kiss, Wade reached into his pocket - anticipating his lover's last minute visit, he had planned ahead. "C'mon…let's go to the bed and take our time."

Nick responded by shoving his partner's jeans to the ground and grabbing the supplies out of his hand. "Here's good."

"You're in one of those moods, huh?" He had long ago figured out that when Nick was overwhelmed with anxiety, he liked their love making to be aggressive, but when he felt calm and happy, he enjoyed teasing, silliness, and romance. "Whatever you need, honey." He walked over to the CD player and turned up the volume, so the neighbors wouldn't hear them enjoying each other.

---

December 9, 2002

"I didn't know my sister's roommate was in a car accident, and that she had called home sayin' she needed to stay a couple of extra days until the girl's parents flew in from the air force base in Germany where they were stationed." Nick's voice cracked, "My dad went to the house and the guys told him I said I went to Wade's. As you can imagine, the Judge wasn't gonna stand around waitin' on me, so he asked for directions to Wade's apartment. Nowadays he woulda been able to call my cell phone, but I didn't have one back then and no one back at the house knew Wade's phone number."

Greg's stomach was in knots thinking about the impending train wreck.

"In my rush into the apartment, I didn't lock the door behind me, not that anyone had ever just walked in, but normally I would've made sure. The music was loud, and we were in the thick of things. He was givin' it to me exactly like I wanted and I was still beggin' for more. That's what my father saw when he walked in…he figured we couldn't hear the door bell over the country music blastin'."

His palm pressed over his mouth, Greg wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened next.

"He said he was too stunned to believe it was even real. There wasn't a second where he had ever even considered I might like guys, so it truly was surreal for him. He was paralyzed with shock and just stood there watchin'. A lot of crime witnesses say that happens to them when their brain can't handle what their eyes are seeing, that's why they can't always relay the details accurately." In a detached tone, Nick said, "We finished together, by then we were drenched…breathless. I was sayin' how good it was and he was tellin' me how much he loved me. I remember that part and then turnin' my head to the left and seein' the Judge lookin' like he had just witnessed unspeakable evil. I don't remember what I said, but hearin' my voice snapped him out of the trance and made him realize everything was real." Biting back his tears, he said, "There was a lot of screamin', and I saw Wade hit the ground. His pants were still around his ankles, so he couldn't even get to his feet before my father started kickin' him."

Still at a loss for words, Greg just clutched his friend's hand.

"Then my father turned on me." In a shaky voice, he shared, "I don't remember what he said, I just remember his face was red and he was screaming. I remember tasting blood in my mouth and feelin' somethin' warm runnin' down the side of my head. That's when Wade grabbed my dad's arms and held him back. He was just tryin' to protect me, but I panicked and thought he might kill him and screamed for him to stop hurting my dad…I was thinkin' that I didn't want my mom to be a widow." Nick pushed out a breath. "I pulled my pants up at some point, I don't remember when, and pleaded for both of them to promise not to hurt each other. That I would do anything my father wanted if he would stop saying he was going to kill Wade. And when my dad said that the only way he'd guarantee it, would be if I left with him, I grabbed my shirt, and bolted out the door."

"Holy shit," Greg blurted after keeping his feelings to himself the entire time. "What happened after you got outside with your Dad?"

"Apparently I was bleedin' pretty bad, because the first person who saw me on the street freaked out. My father covered and said I had gotten into a fight and called him to come get me. Then Wade ran after us, and of course he was a mess too. I didn't want to cause a scene in public, so I begged him to please go back inside that I would handle everything and we'd talk when I got back from Dallas. I promised him that nothin' would keep me from him, not even my family, we just all needed time to cool down. He went back inside…he did it for me, but in hindsight, I wish he would've caused a scene and let the whole fucking world know what had just happened."

"That must have been a tense car ride home."

"First we had to stop at Urgent Care and get my eye and my lip stitched."

"Didn't they get suspicious that you had been abused?"

"I wasn't nine, Greg, I was twenty and wearin' an A&M football t-shirt, they didn't bat an eye when my father told them I had been busted up by a guy who found out I had kissed his girlfriend."

"Right. Sorry, of course not."

"While I was gettin' stitched, he left the room and when I was done, I saw him in the waiting area on a pay phone, writing something down. I thought about running out the backdoor, but couldn't deal with the thought of my family hearing what happened, so I sat down in a chair and mindlessly flipped through a magazine."

"My father never even spanked me, I can't imagine what it would have been like to suddenly have your dad hit you."

"It was hardly the first time, all of us kids got the strap in his office, and dependin' on what you did, those sessions could be pretty bad. The mental pain, more than the whippin'. He never did more than spank my sisters, but my brother and I got some solid slaps across the face and shoves to the ground over the years."

"Oh." Greg once again thanked God for his quirky, but loving family.

"When he was done on the phone, he pointed to the door and I walked out of lobby like a dutiful son. He told me to get in the back and not say a word. A few minutes into the ride, he started crying, which you wanna talk about bein' shocked – I had never seen my father cry, none of us kids had, we wondered if he had his tear ducts surgically removed."

"That had to be freaky."

Nodding, he replied, "Then he started apologizing for not showing me enough love, for always bein' busy, and for makin' me think he was more proud of my brother. I started cryin' too, and told him I loved him and I was sorry that he had to find out like he did. I really believed that we were bonding and that after a little time, he'd be able to accept everything."

Greg knew there wasn't going to be a happy ending.

"About twenty minutes into the drive, I realized we weren't goin' the usual way home. When I asked my dad where we were goin', he said he wanted to spend some time bonding with me, and showing me how much he loved me. was desperate to believe that was true, so my mind didn't question it."

If he hadn't just seen Nick's private parts, Greg would have guessed the psycho was taking him to be neutered."

"A few hours later we headed down a dirt road to what looked like a camp. I thought he was takin' me camping and they must have equipment to rent there, because we don't have anything. A few minutes later I found out I was right – it was a camp…for gay and lesbians to get straightened out by psychiatrists while good folk prayed for their souls."

"No." Suddenly his friend's PTSD with the cab driver made perfect sense. "But you were twenty, they couldn't hold you against your will, that would be kidnapping."

"I didn't have any will by that point, or guts, or common sense. I signed my life over to those people. People who had been manipulatin' me before I even got there. My dad's cryin' in the car and everything he said – it was what they had told him to say on the drive. That was their game plan – to make me believe that I was gay because I believed my father didn't love me. They told me he was goin' through all this and payin' a lot of money to fix me because he loved me and didn't want to have to break my mother's heart and ruin our family forever. And if that wasn't enough mindfuckery, when it was my father's time to leave, he hugged me and whispered, "Apply yourself here, Nicholas, because if you're not better by the time I return for you in a month, I'll have no choice but to ask you to leave home and tell everyone the reason why. I will not have a Sodomite hangin' around my grandchildren, am I clear?"

"That's crazy!" Greg wanted to coat Judge Sanders with jelly and lock him in a room with Dan and 300 honeybees.

"Unfortunately, it was also reality." With sorrow in his voice, he admitted, "I said 'I promise, Dad' and left with the counselor to go to my room…which they locked me in for the next forty eight hours, so I could ask the Lord for forgiveness."

"And Wade had no idea you were there."

"No." Nick tears returned. "They made me write him a letter, breaking things off and telling him that I had just been confused."

"Oh my god!" Greg hoped the nun didn't hear him yell. "Did he believe it?"

"He never got it." Turning to face the window, he cried, "He went camping. That's what he planned on doin' while I was in Dallas, it was what he always did when he needed to clear his head. While I was locked up, he was killed by a bear. The letter was in his mailbox. He died thinkin' I was comin' back, which was the only relief I had."

"A bear?" The CSI wannbe didn't buy it. "A bear? Is there a chance it really wasn't a bear?"

"There had been two other attacks that year and it was reported as a bear attack by the ranger who found him, so that's what I chose to believe…for a while." Tears streaming down his face, Nick whispered, "When I was a cop in Dallas, I used my access to check everything out, but no foul play was suspected, so the scene was never investigated. The coroner photos, which were torture to look at, definitely showed evidence of a severe mauling, but who's to say that the mauling wasn't done after the bear smelled blood and showed up when Wade was already dyin'. Could my dad have called in some favors? Did my brother find out and have somethin' done? Or was it really just a mauling? All evidence pointed to a mauling, but I've never been able to shake that last ounce of doubt." Wiping his face, he choked out. "Not knowing what really happened to someone you love, is a terrible feeling. So is not knowin' if your loved ones are guilty…they've never acted guilty, or said anything to make me think they are…still, there's no peace of mind."

His eyes welling, Greg asked, "Is that why you became a CSI?"

"Yes." Turning back to the window, Nick softly said, "And now that I told you all that, please don't ask me to talk about it again. If I want to talk about it again, I will."

"I promise."

"Thanks." Pulling his blanket up to his neck, the exhausted man closed his eyes. "I'm really beat." He didn't want to talk or think anymore. "I'm gonna sleep the rest of the flight."

"Me too," Greg lied, knowing he'd never be able to fall asleep with so many thoughts racing in his head. "I'll wake you when we get there."

***

"Tt's been thirty minutes, Vartann!" Grissom tapped his watch as he marched toward the detective. "Nick's done a great job calming the guy down, but you know how these situations can change on a dime, so I want that Tactical support here now!"

"There's been a complication." The detective had just gotten off the phone with the Sheriff. "The situation at the high school is still unresolved and now there's a domestic hostage situation a few miles from here and the guys that were being deployed here were just rerouted there."

"Are you telling me we're not getting any support?"

Vartann exasperatedly replied, "I'm just as ticked as you, Grissom."

"How can we have three TV news teams here already, but not one team from Tactical?"

"Capitalism," the world-weary detective grumbled, "Drama sells TV advertising, and there's plenty of drama in Vegas, so the stations have the money to staff up. If we actually spent the right amount on LVPD staffing there would be less drama, but the stations would lose money and the public would be bitching that nothing newsworthy ever happens in this town. Right now all over the city, people are glued to their TVs watching the high school standoff and if it goes badly, they'll watch hours and hours of network coverage on why it happened, and what we can do to recognize the signs next time, and how to prevent it from happening again, and the memorial service, and interviews with people who didn't even know the people involved. They eat that shit up."

Once again Grissom was wondering why he didn't escape with Sara when he had the chance.

"It's the Sheriff's call, and he's basing his decisions on the fact that there are no civilians at risk here, just one CSI. You know the drill – minimize civilian risk and focus resources on the situations that aren't under control. "

The words sliced through Grissom. "Yeah, and what's a little more CSI bloodshed this year, right? Clearly we're all expendable in the Sheriff's eyes."

"You're making it personal about your guys."

"Yes." Thinking of Warrick, the burnt out supervisor turned his back on the detective. "Eight months too late."

"Hey!" Vartann stuffed his hands on his hips and sighed, "Between you and me, I think Stokes is a much better negotiator than any of the Tactical guys anyway. It'll be alright." It had to be, because he was in charge of the scene when it all went down and Nick's blood would be on his hands.

"Griss!" Greg motioned for his boss to hurry up. "Nick's tryin' to talk him out of the gun. Listen!"

I won't let anything to happen to you, Steve. I'll stay with you every step of the way so they won't shoot, I promise.

I'm already dead - a bullet is just a formality.

I wasn't lyin' when I said I needed a friend. Talkin' through all that stuff with you has really helped me figure things out. We can still be friends after we walk out of here together.

That's just something you're saying to get out of here. You won't visit me in prison.

I will. I promise. I visited the daughter of the guy who put me in that coffin, the same woman who wouldn't provide information critical to my rescue.

You did?

Yeah. She didn't want to talk though, so it was a short visit. C'mon, Steve, let's do this together.

I can't.

Why?

Because I haven't decided yet.

Haven't decided what yet?

How I want this to end.

I know how it needs to end - with both of us walkin' out of here alive.

Will my wife be able to cash my insurance policy if the cops shoot me?

I don't want to think about that, man, because I want you to live.

Answer the question!

Greg looked to Grissom. "He's getting edgy again."

"Yeah."

Steve, do you want your wife to be able to collect?

No, I don't want the bitch to get another damn dime from me.

Then stay alive and go to do the time for your crimes, because then the bitch won't be able to collect on your policy and she won't have your income either. That's the best way to stick it to her, right? If you're dead, she'll collect the insurance money, buy herself a bunch of fancy things, and bring guys home to sleep on your old pillow.

She's probably already online booking a trip to Maui.

So why give her the chance to collect the money and have the last laugh when you can laugh at her from prison and say you begged to go behind bars to get away from her bitching. Tell her she's been taking you for granted, and now that she'll have to get off her lazy ass and get a job, maybe she'll realize how lucky she was to have a guy working hard to keep a roof over her ungrateful head!

I think you might be right.

Hell yeah, I'm right! Then you can divorce her while you're in prison, and make your own life. You can take college classes or write a book, and some of the prisons have animal care programs. With your veterinary experience, after you demonstrate good behavior in the system, they'll probably want you to work with the dogs. And get this…there's a whole bunch of women out there who love to write and visit nice guys who made one mistake in their life, but want to turn things around. How cool would it be to tell your ex-wife that you've got a girlfriend?

Wow. You really are my friend.

"Nice job, Nicky." Grissom gave a reassuring nod to Greg. "He's regained his trust."

Okay, we'll do it your way, but I'm not ready to leave yet. I want to enjoy my last hours of freedom hanging out with you. I promise I won't kill you, Nick.

Thank you for doin' that, Steve, I really feel a lot better now.

"Doing that?" Greg shook his head. "Saying that would have made more sense or promising, but doing?"

Grissom had found the phrase odd as well. "I wonder if he unlocked the cuffs."

Tell me the rest of the Pittsburgh story. I want to hear about your big night with Greta.

Okay, but not the really long version, because pretty soon I'm gonna have to pee and you'll need to uncuff me, because I don't want to walk outside with piss pants.

"He's still cuffed." Grissom's brow knitted. "Maybe he unlocked one to make him more comfortable?"

"Maybe he put down the gun or better yet, maybe he took the bullets out."

Did you piss your pants in the coffin?

Yeah, that situation literally scared the piss out of me, but I told everyone that pissin' in my pants was a strategic move to keep the ants away from my parts, which it thankfully did, 'cause I think it would have been easier to pull the trigger if my pecker was gettin' gnawed off and stung. Luckily I had taken a dump right before gettin' kidnapped, because squritin' in my shorts woulda been a lot harder to justify.

"The edginess is gone again." Hearing Steve's laughter put Greg at ease. "That's a relief, huh?"

"Our tactical support has been redirected," Grissom blurted, once Greg was relaxed again.

"What?"

"There's a domestic violence situation a few miles from here and they were rerouted. Nick will need to ride this out a little longer."

"Okay, fine. I'm not worried." He said it out loud to convince himself.

"Good, because…" The ring of his cell phone put a smile on Grissom's face. "I hope it's the Sheriff, because I'm really in the mood to rip…the Caller ID says it's Dan Sanders with a California area code."

"Why would my father be…oh, shit." Seeing the TV vans gave him his answer. "The media must be reporting a CSI is being held hostage. My mom keeps the Vegas news website up 24/7 and I've been ignoring her calls to listen to Nick." He scrambled for his cell. "Tell him I'm calling her right now! But tell him not to tell her that it took a call to you to get me to call her back! I'll be in the Denali!"

"You're thirty years old, Greg! I think it's about time you stop lying to your mommy!" Remembering he had told a very distraught Mr. and Mrs. Sanders they could call him anytime they were worried about their son, he was happy to answer the phone with some good news. "Grissom…yes, he's fine, he's off to find a private spot to call his mother right now…I completely understand after what she's been through….really, it' not a problem, that's why I gave you my card when we spoke at the hospital."

---

"Gregory!" Leaning against the marble-topped island in her sunny California kitchen, Connie Sanders pressed the phone to her ear to cherish the sound of her son's voice.

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Oh, thank God you're okay. I'm tracking the news on the Vegas TV station website. It looks like all hell is breaking loose in there."

"Yeah. Sorry for worrying you."

Covering the receiver, the relieved mother smiled at her parents who were seated at the table holding hands. "He's fine." Just then her husband returned to the kitchen. "Greg's on the line. He's okay."

Dan Sanders smiled at his wife and didn't tell her that his call to Grissom prompted their son to finally reply to her frantic voice mails. "I told you not to worry."

"Mom…"

"Sorry, I was just telling your father and Nana and Papa that you're alright."

"It's Nick. The CSI hostage is Nick."

"Oh God." Connie's tension returned with a vengeance. "Nick's the hostage," she whispered to the rest of the family.

"He's gonna be fine. He's already got the guy talking to him like they've been best buddies for years. We don't have visual contact, but we snuck in a wire and are able to listen in on what's happening inside the house. The guy's promised not to shoot him and I believe him."

Clutching her head, the troubled mother closed her eyes. "Well, if anyone can get out of a tight spot, it's Nick. I have complete faith that he'll be okay."

"From what I've heard him saying on the wire, I think we might be okay too. He misses the way things were, Mom."

Connie shook her head. "Greg, you…"

"Don't. There's still a chance he could get injured or killed and if you say anything bad about him and something happens…it might be hard to forgive you."

"Sweetheart, I was just going to say…" Thinking of her son's words, she opted to lie. "You have just given me an even better reason to fight to get Prop 8 overturned! In case you re-propose and Nick re-accepts, and the two of you want to re-plan a ceremony for July 2009 just like we were planning for July 2008, I want to make sure you have the legal right to call it a marriage."

Rubbing his temples, Dan looked at his in-laws. "Here we go again." When the elderly couple started clutching their heads and whispering in Norwegian, a language he never could grasp, he heaved a painful sigh and sat at the table with them. "Yeah, I completely agree with you."

Connie continued to front a sunny tone, "My PFLAG mother's group is coordinating a huge protest for this weekend and the news of yet another trauma-induced reunion between you and Nick will give me the motivation I need to make the demonstration a huge success. I'm sure we'll make it onto MSNBC, I've been emailing that adorable lesbian Rachel Maddow asking her to cover it on her show. I wonder if my 'mother of the grooms' dress still fits? I'm so happy for you, sweetie. I really think it will work out this time."

"Don't ever commit a crime, mom, you're a terrible liar."

Deciding to drop the act, the concerned mother snipped, "I'm also the person who had to glue you back together after Warrick Brown died and Nick decided a good follow up to that tragedy would be to break your heart."

"Mom…"

"When you were here sobbing in my arms, your exact words were 'If I'm ever stupid enough to want to get back together with him again, remind me why I hate him.' All I'm guilty of is being a loving mother who is doing exactly what she promised her heartbroken son she would do. So here is your reminder, Gregory…that bastard looked you in the eyes and said he felt less suffocated in that coffin than he did living with you." It killed her to think anyone could say something so callous to her little boy, no less Nick, a man she welcomed into her home and treated like her own son. "If you really think about it, he said life with you is worse than being buried alive and nearly stung to death by fire ants. And when you cried and asked him to apologize for saying something so hurtful, his reply was 'I'm sorry…I can't go through with the ceremony' and then he walked out the door."

"He was messed up from losing Warrick. The shrink I'm seeing told me that considering his past, Nick was probably scared of losing me too, so he decided to push me away before he could lose me. She thinks that's what he's been doing all along – self sabotage. It really makes sense if you…"

"Honey, it does make sense, it's what I've been telling you for free for years." Flicking tears from her cheeks, Connie spoke from her aching heart, "I know Nick loves you and wants desperately to have a life with you, but he's one of those tragic people who are damaged beyond repair and incapable of living with, freely loving, or committing to you or anyone. There's always going to be something that scares him off or freaks him out. Always. If the three breakups you've already suffered through weren't enough to prove that to you, I'm sure I can't, but I feel obligated to try because you turned thirty years old this year and you've waited for him long enough. No matter what he says or needs after this trauma, you can't enable him, you have to say no. No talking, no hugging, no kissing, no cooking for him, nothing except saying that you can't hop on the rollercoaster again. Promise me."

"Not everyone is meant to have a spouse, a kid, a safe job, and a house in The Valley, Mom…and broken people need to be loved even if they're incapable of returning it normally. I lived twenty-eight years of my life before anything truly bad happened to me, Nick was nine when he got molested and he hasn't caught a break since. While he's lived most of his life fearing the loss of his family's love, I have never known anything but unconditional love from mine. So if I only get to be insanely happy every other year from here on out, I'm still way ahead of Nick and a ton of other broken people in this screwed up world.

Blowing her nose, Connie blamed herself for her son's inability to give up on lost causes. "I really curse the day I encouraged you to read Gandhi and started taking you to help serve at the soup kitchen to help the needy."

"I love you, Mom. I need to get back to the scene now."

"Call me when Nick's safe."

"I will. Bye."

"Bye," she replied, a beat too late.

"What's going on?" the worried husband asked when his wife slammed the phone down. "Nick's the hostage?"

"Yes," she snapped. "But he'll be fine.

Dan glared at his spouse. "You say that like you'd rather have him die."

"Are you kidding me! The only thing that could be worse than having my son pine after Stokes would be for him to be haunted by his ghost for the rest of his life." Connie grabbed a wine glass. "Nick has to live or the spell will never be broken."

Watching his overly emotional daughter pour a glass of Pinot Grigio in the middle of the day, Papa Olaf counseled, "Connie, you can't choose who your child loves…and you should be thankful for that, or you wouldn't be married to Danny-boy here. We thought he was a loser from the second we met him and when you told us you wanted to marry the deadbeat…" He laughed with his wife. "We thought he'd never amount to anything and we'd be supporting the two of you for the rest of your lives."

"Yeah." Dan patted his father-in-law on the back. "I went from borrowing rent money from you to paying cash for 6,000 square feet in the Valley, inviting you to live with us, and watching my boy graduate from Stanford. So much for your family's supposed psychic abilities, huh?"

Connie redirected the trip down memory lane. "And how is Greg using that Stanford education? Is he finding a cure for cancer or writing papers that could change the world? No! Thanks to Nick, he was inspired to put his life on the line playing CSI and he spends his free time penning books on mob history, because when he was telling Nick an Old Vegas story one night, the cowboy said 'that story would make a great book'."

"He's fighting a different kind of cancer, Connie." Nana Olaf reasoned with her stubborn and sometimes selfish daughter. "He's battling a societal cancer – violent crime. We know for sure Stanley Tanner is alive because of Greg, who knows how many others have lived because of who he helped put behind bars? You should be proud of him and stop trying to change his path. He's right where he's supposed to be, because if the Lord wanted him to working in a research lab, he'd be there."

"Mothers of four can afford to have a child working in a dangerous occupation," Connie cried, her own baggage haunting her, "but I'm a mother of one, and the price is too steep."

The irritated father lectured, "I told you to let him play sports, Constance. If he had been able to experience even one hour of risk during his childhood, he probably wouldn't be craving it day and night. Even with scouts, you had to be the Den Mother." The 71 year old shook his finger at his son-in-law. "You should have forced her to let him play hockey."

"I've never forced your daughter to do anything against her will and you should be happy about that, old man."

"Hockey would have made that boy tough." The former player pumped his fists. "He wouldn't have gotten his ass kicked if he had played hockey. He could have fought back like a man instead of using his truck." He returned to chiding his daughter, "And he wouldn't be gay if he played hockey, because girls like to be poked by hockey players and he would've knocked up a beauty at seventeen like I did." He winked at his wife. "He'd be married and you'd have grandbabies by now, but no…you had to coddle him and wipe his nose until he left for college."

Annoyed with her father, she shouted, "Quick, Dan! Call James Dobson and tell him he can relax, because my father has found the cure to homosexuality. If all pre-pubescent boys start playing hockey today, eventually the world will be straight as an arrow and overpopulated with high school dropouts and unplanned children!

"Honey…"

"It's not fair, Dan!" Connie refocused on her original point. "Nick's parents have six other children. Six perfectly straight, grandbaby-producing children, but I have one son and he can't have happiness, because he loves their closeted gay boy, who they pretty much ignore save his birthday, Christmas, and kidnappings! So what if they disown him? They have six breeders that fit their tidy little conservative mold and I will be happy to be Nick's new mommy, frankly I already think I've been more of mother to him in the last four years than his own has."

"Now it's Nick's parents fault that Greg isn't happily married?" Dan stated, knowing his wife was spiraling out of control.

"Yes! Until Nick can tell his parents he's gay, he can't settle down with Greg, and he's never going to tell them because he believes they'll disown him, which means Greg is going to live in 'love limbo' with Nick the rest of his god-damn life!"

"Watch your mouth, Constance!"

"I'm 54, Dad! I can say whatever the hell I want to in my own fucking house! If you don't like it, there's a dreary room at Shady Acres waiting for you and they don't allow pets, so Skippy, Twitch, and Carmen Miranda will be out on the street thumbing their way to the Humane Society!"

"Time out!" Dan stepped between the hot-headed Norse man and his equally confrontational daughter. "Neither of you can change a thing about the past, and you both know that. Old man, you know she gets like this every time she thinks of the babies we lost and you know it just makes the pain worse when you accuse her of mis-parenting Greg – so stop it. Connie, you know your father is right, the hockey cure for homosexuality being the exception – so let's drop this pointless arguing and move on. I'm hungry and I need more shelving for my office. Who wants to go to IKEA?"

The senior citizens leapt out of their chairs.

"Yeah, I knew you lingonberry lovers would be joining me."

"We can't go to IKEA. We have to wait for Greg to call!"

"No, we don't," the hip 69 year old grandmother informed her daughter, "He'll text your Blackberry if you're not home."

"You're really going?"

"Yes," the trio answered in perfect unison, having decided long ago to stop enabling Connie's preoccupation with her son's safety.

Dropping his arm around his father-in-law's shoulders, Dan parroted the phrase he used to hear coming out of the old man's mouth three decades ago, "Always up for a free meal, aren't ya? Freeloading slacker."

"I don't have time for lunch anyway!" Connie shouted to the closing door. With the cordless phone in her hand, the unnerved mother marched off for her office to check email and make more protest signs. "I have a demonstration to coordinate!"

Walking down the hall full of family photos, Connie's emotions got the best of her again. "I just want you to be happy, Greg." Staring at her son's Kindergarten portrait, she cried. I know you don't believe me, but I really can live without grandchildren, but I can't live with you being miserable every other year. But you're not five anymore and I can't show up on the playground to fix things for you. As much as I hate to admit it, your Papa Olaf is right, I should have let you swing as high as you wanted and run as fast as you could go…but I was just too afraid of losing you.

Falling silent, she stared at the little boy in the photo and longed for the return of his carefree smile. You're forever changed. How could you not be after seeing what you've seen in the field? Her thoughts again turned to what she could do to help the situation, but she came up blank…until a plane flew over the house. Everything I do, right or wrong, is because I love you, Greg. Punching in the numbers on the telephone, she told herself it was the only thing to do. "It's time to force the issue," she muttered on her way to the master bedroom. If he won't do what should have been done years ago, I will. You'll both hate me for it, but I'm confident you'll both thank me one day, because no matter what happens, I'll have ended the prolonged agony that indecision and stagnation bring. By the time she stepped into her walk-in closet, she felt at peace with her decision. I am going to look my fear of losing you right in the eye and…The cheery voice of a customer service operator interrupted her mental pep talk.

"Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines, this is Glenda speaking, how may I help you today?"

Grabbing her weekender bag, Connie anxiously replied, "I need to book a flight for this afternoon."

"From which airport, ma'am?"

"LAX."

"And your destination city?"

"Dallas."

***

December 6, 2002

"Ladies annnnd gentleman, welcome to Pittsburgh." Chad cheerily spoke via the airline intercom. "The local time is 6:43 a.m. and I hope you packed your mittens, kittens - because the outside air temperature is a nippy 33 degrees. I want to take this opportunity to say it was our pleasure to serve you and if you enjoyed our service on this flight our names are Staci, Melanie, and Chad. If you didn't…those aren't our real names. If you're visiting Pittsburgh for business or pleasure or both – you know who you are, we certainly hope you enjoy your stay in Steelers Country. If you're returning home to Pittsburgh from Vegas, we hope you have enough money left to get your car out of the parking garage. Anyone with checked luggage will want to proceed to Baggage Carousel 17, everyone else probably knows what to do. If you have any questions, I will be at the exit to assist you. As always, thank you for choosing to fly with us. Have a wonnnnnderful day."

Still groggy from being woken out of a dead sleep, Nick groaned and rubbed his face, "Was Chad always that perky?"

"Yeah," Greg yawned, "It was cute when we were shitfaced."

"Whaddya mean were?" Nick pried open one eye. "It's only been less than two hours since our last bottle. We're still waaay over legal and I still feel buzzed."

"Me too."

"I'm probably still a good hour away from pukin' though."

"Really? I could puke right now," Greg announced as he forced himself to stand and pop open the overhead compartment. "But I'm holding out for the airport bathroom, because I don't want to taint the memory of my mile-high adventure by hurling in the same place where you rocked my world."

His hands still covering his face, Nick moaned. "Did all of that really happen?"

"Having regrets?"

"Not about foolin' around." Peering though his parted fingers, the exhausted man confessed, "I regret that I told you all my secrets."

Setting his co-worker's laptop and carry-on bag on the aisle seat, Greg sweetly replied, "Honestly, I don't think you would have shared your secrets unless you needed to."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Even though he regretted opening up, there was no denying he felt substantially less burdened.

"Don't worry." Grabbing his water bottle, Greg twisted open the cap. "I promise your secrets are safe with me."

"Thanks." Nick stepped into the aisle. "For the promise and for gettin' my stuff down for me."

"You're welcome." Greg chewed his bottom lip while he fought the urge to steal a kiss. "Um." Remembering he had an open bottle of water in his hand, he occupied his mouth with a hearty sip.

Watching his trusted friend swallow a gulp of water, the lonely cowboy longed to take the bottle's place against Greg's soft lips. "I'm really dehydrated. Can I have a sip?"

"Any time."

It was almost like kissing him, Nick mused as he circled his mouth around the same inch of plastic.

"I wish I was that bottle," Greg blurted, causing his pal to laugh and spray water from his mouth. "I really didn't mean to say that out loud."

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the equally lusty man replied, "I laughed 'cause I was thinkin' the same thing watchin' you drink from the bottle, but it'll be a cold day in hell before I break my PDA rule again."

"For a second there I though you were going to say it would be a cold day in hell before you ever touched me again, because I'm really looking forward to being your wank buddy for the next eight days." Closing the overhead compartment, the relieved jokester said, "From now on, if we get a public urge, we can share a water bottle and know it's code for 'I wish this was you quenching my thirst'."

---

"Where were we, Steve?" Nick yawned. "Sorry, I've been up for like twenty hours. We were still on the plane, right?"

"Yeah, you and Greta fell asleep right after getting back from the bathroom." Steve sat back against the dresser directly across from his buddy.

"Okay, yeah." Nick closed his eyes to recall the moment. "I woke up expectin' things to be reeeeally awkward, because I don't usually wake up next to the person I hooked up with the night before. Even though I'm a romantic guy at heart, I was goin' through a 'love 'em and leave 'em and never go out with 'em again' kinda thing back then. I was really surprised that I still wanted to be with Greta the morning after. We didn't dare touch each other though, because we were in Pittsburgh and someone arriving for the conference coulda seen us – that was part of the fun though – us havin' an inside joke in front of colleagues."

"Mental foreplay," Steve snickered.

"Exactly," Nick chuckled, focusing on the happy memories instead of his present predicament. "It's department policy that two guys traveling together have to share a room to keep costs down, but they can't force a man and a woman share one. When Greta and I got to the hotel, they mistakenly had us rooming together. Since the place was booked solid for the convention, all they could do was offer to pay for another room at a different hotel. Without missing a beat, Greta tells the Desk Clerk she wouldn't mind sharing a room with me because she has five brothers."

"Fate was on your side."

---

"No, department policy was on our side." Greg smiled at his boss. "See, that's why we shouldn't have to pay you back for the room. We were following department policy."

"If you can find where in the department policy it says that two co-workers traveling together are entitled to skip 80 percent of a conference if they decide they would rather spend time cuddling, among other things, then you won't have to reimburse anything and I'll even pay to send you both on a trip."

"I accept your challenge."

So we're in the lobby grinnin' at the prospect of sharin' a room for the next week, when these two twenty-something CSI guys from Boston see me. Steve, these big Forensics conferences work just like high school – there are cliques and you have cool buddies you hang out with, chicks you want to scam, and boring dudes you want to avoid at all costs – guys like my boss, Grissom.

"He didn't mean it, Griss." Greg chuckled, "I'm sure that's just one of the many lies he's telling to keep the psycho entertained."

"MmmHmm."

These two guys from Chicago are at the top of the conference food chain, they're hilarious and they always compete to see who can score more tail from check-in to check-out, the winner buys the loser a steak dinner when they get home. Even though they're career frat boys, they're really great CSIs who work in the toughest part of town.

"He has to be talking about the Dwyer brothers."

"Yep." Greg laughed before reciting their tagline with a Boston accent, "Two D's on the prowl for Double D's."

So there we are in the lobby when the Dwyer Brothers yell 'Hey! It's Sin City Stokes!'

---

Tom Dwyer slammed his palm on the Vegas CSI's back. "Wow, you look like shit, Nicky. Did ya walk here?"

"No, I fuckin' pulled a double before gettin' on a red-eye." Nick dropped his bags at Greg's feet and grinned at the D Brothers. "I was gonna sleep on the flight, but this leggy sandy-haired blonde with the cutest ass and an irresistible smile, invited me to share a row and pound bottles of whisky. I'm hungover and spent, so please, boys…no screaming."

"Way to go, Stokes!" they yelled while play punching their fellow CSI. "Did you get another stamp on your Mile High Club Card?"

"Guys, c'mon…you know I don't kiss and tell."

"Right." Kevin Dwyer rolled his eyes. "You kiss and brag."

Feeling invisible in the presence of three uber-cool CSI guys, Greg just stood there listening.

"You know me too well." Nick enthusiastically spoke like the hetero horndog the guys believed him to be. "After knocking back a few bottles, I was asked to find a blanket."

"Always a good sign," Tom snickered.

"Next thing I know we're snuggled up, swappin' stories about high school and how we popped our cherries. All that sex talk had me hotter than a virgin farm boy at a whorehouse. That's when I leaned over and said I'd be in the bathroom if anyone wanted to find me. Thirty seconds later we were rippin' each other's clothes off and makin' out like teenagers with an early curfew."

"How big were her tits?" Kevin queried, wanting a clear visual.

"Sorry, dude, I know how much you love a good rack, but my mile high hottie was flat. Bein' an ass man, that didn't bother me, and boy, did this babe have a sweet piece."

Bursting into a shit-eating grin, Greg shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

"Remember the train scene from Risky Business?" While the brothers salivated and nodded, the storyteller whispered, "The ride with this babe…ten times hotter. I'm talkin' twenty minutes of nonstop toe-curling passion at a euphoria-inducing 30,000 feet…and that was just the first round."

"Whoa," the twin brothers breathed out in perfect unison.

"Yeah, I had to friggin' crawl back to my seat after that maniac was done with me and if I sleep from now until dinner, I won't be fully recovered."

"Did you get her digits?"

"How hot is this - I didn't even get a name." Nick boasted, "That was part of the deal – it was an anonymous airplane fantasy and I was just the lucky guy who was in the right place at the right time to play the role of the sexy stranger."

When they heard goofy laughter, The Brothers Dwyer peered around Nick. "Who's the geek?"

"A DNA Lab Rat Grissom forced me to bring."

"We were hoping Brown was coming to this one," Kevin huffed, "I like clubbing with him, because he attracts the ladies and I don't mind takin' his leftovers."

"Rick's goin' to the one in Orlando next month."

"Bummer."

"I really doubt you'll see the boy genius here partyin'." Nick patted Greg's shoulder. "He fell asleep readin' a book twenty seconds into the flight, but at least he didn't cut into my action. Right, buddy?" He made a formal introduction. "Kevin and Tom Dwyer, this is Greg Sanders, Vegas's finest DNA guy. Seriously, he's a real asset to the lab and he handles my stuff really well, so you better not give him any shit this week."

"Nice to meet you." Greg extended his hand.

While everyone was getting acquainted, Nick grabbed the water bottle sticking out of the front pocket on his buddy's carry-on bag. "Mmm." Smiling at his secret hook-up, he announced, "I'm really thirsty."

---

The whole time we were in the crowded elevator, Greta and I were havin' the most outrageous eye sex.

"Eye sex?" Grissom turned to his co-worker. "What does eye-sex mean, Casanova?"

"When two people stare hungrily or longingly at each other because they can't say or do anything in mixed company." To paint a clearer picture, Greg said, "Like before you and Sara got together, how you used to stare at each other while we were..." Realizing his faux-pas, he fell silent.

"You could see…"

"Everyone could see there was something special between you and Sara."

"Everyone but me," Grissom muttered under his breath, as he cursed his subconscious decision to sabotage his relationship.

Finally we get to our room…

---

Dropping his bags on the floor of the hotel room, Greg exclaimed, "That was the longest elevator ride of my life!"

"No shit!"

"I love how you never referenced the gender of your airplane hottie, but those guys were all picturing a buxom chick."

After using his foot to shut the door, Nick tossed his baggage and a good portion of his common sense. "After all that mental foreplay, I'm more riled than I was on the plane." He reached for his buddy's hand. "C'mere." After breezing through a nine year self-imposed ban on kissing guys, he suddenly couldn't stop craving the thrill of his lips pressed to another man's. "Wait," he cautioned, with his hands cupped around Greg's face. "This is just for fun, right? And we're not goin' further than we did on the plane, because that would be more…serious."

"Right," Greg hastily promised, but he would have agreed to anything standing in the way of the kiss he had been longing for since waking up next to his crush. "You're my dating coach and this is just practice for Monday night when we go to Sparx and you hook up with Chad while I'm having a memorable night with the Brian Kinney wannabe who gets your stamp of approval."

The intimacy-phobic man nodded and said the opposite of what he subconsciously desired, "So this doesn't mean anything."

"Nope. Nothing." He would have just as easily would have given up his car or a kidney in exchange for another ten minutes with Nick. "Zip."

"Okay, good, just so we're clear."

After gaining consensus on the absolute insignificance of their actions, the men kissed with the passion of star-crossed lovers who only had sixty seconds to say goodbye before never seeing each other again.

---

Do you believe in love at first sight, Nick?

No. I believe in attraction at first sight.

Yeah, that's exactly how I got my wife pregnant. It wasn't love, it was a lusty attraction, and after the lust was gone…there was nothing.

"Sex pheromones," the doctor of Biology stated in a robotic tone, "The female releases them to signal she's available for breeding and the male is programmed to respond to the call. Steve went primal and fulfilled his primitive purpose in life - propagating their species. Once the breeding requirement was satisfied, it's not unusual for one or both animals to feel nothing and move on – the female to focus on the successful birthing her offspring and the male to go out and create more of his kind. The male and female are rarely compatible for cohabitation. They have different needs – the female wants to settle in a safe place and nest, but for the male, permanency and safety can feel too much like death."

"Uh…" Greg decided to say exactly what he was thinking. "If that's your subtle way of trying to open up to me about what happened between you and Sara, go for it, because I'm a good…"

"No," the man who rarely got personal, got ruffled. "I wasn't referring to myself, I was commenting on what I just heard."

Greg pretended to believe his boss. "Right. Sorry."

That's why I need to get to know the person, see what they're about…see how they treat me, and after all that, when we finally kiss, I can tell if it's love.

If I had done that before sleeping with Megan, I would have known she was a self-centered, materialistic bitch. Did you know it was love the first time you kissed Greta?

Yeah, but I couldn't admit how I was feeling to myself, no less her. Hell, I went out of my way to say how our time together was just hot meaningless fun and kept hopin' she'd say she wanted it to be more than that, 'cause I couldn't…but she was playin' it safe too, because she sensed I'd freak if she pushed the issue. See, I had shared that I had been in love once before and I told her it was the happiest time of my life…right before it was the worst. She knew I hadn't taken the slightest chance of gettin' emotionally involved with anyone since then. Puttin' myself in that situation with her was a huge risk for me.

Especially because you were co-workers who couldn't part ways if it all turned to shit.

Exactly! And thankfully she has the patience of a saint, 'cause during that conference week, I was down right schizophrenic with her sometimes, but she just kept goin' with the flow and changin' direction right along with me.

---

"We smell like airplane," Nick remarked while tugging his buddy's shirt off. "I hate that smell."

"Me too." Feeling bold, Greg rushed his hands under his partner's tee and swiftly removed it. "It's on our clothes."

"We should probably take 'em all off then."

"Yeah."

As they plundered each other's mouths, they feverishly kicked off their shoes and worked open each other's jeans.

"Better?" Finally free of every stitch, Greg relished the feel of a warm, muscular body pressing against his torso.

"No."

Stunned to hear that his buddy wasn't similarly thrilled by the exposure, Greg vulnerably asked, "What's wrong?" He couldn't imagine it was a problem of desire, because there was solid evidence of Nick's arousal bumping against his thigh.

"We still smell like plane." His dark brown eyes radiating desire, Nick spoke in a sexy rasp, "I like to take a hot shower after flying."

"Me too."

"Wanna save time and take one together?" To encourage an affirmative answer, he seared wet, hot kisses over his buddy's rapidly rising and falling chest. "Hmm?"

Overanxious to please the man rocking his world, Greg didn't trust himself to stop things from going further than he really wanted at the moment. "Uh…" Even though he loved watching Brian and Justin going at it in the shower and often fantasized about taking the younger man's place, he didn't want his first time to be awkward or burdened by his irrational fear of slipping in the tub…a fear cemented in his mind by overprotective mother who had covered his childhood bathtub in an inch of safety rubber.

Caressing his way over the eager body in front of him, Nick whispered, "It's a simple yes or no question, G. Do you wanna get wet and slippery with me or not?"

"It depends." He decided to go with a humorous approach. "Will I be safe if I drop the soap?" He hoped his concern was clear without directly stating it.

"Absolutely." Locking his confident gaze on the vulnerable one staring at him, the experienced lover said, "We'll have the same fun we had on the plane only steamier." He winked. "And just to make sure you can't change your mind about goin' further, we won't bring anything we'd need to do things safely, and I don't make safety exceptions for anyone, not even you, sweetheart. Remember that."

His worries behind him, Greg led the charge. "I'll start the water! You unwrap the soap!"

First Nick paused to enjoy the sight of his bare-naked buddy bolting for the bathroom. "Mmm, very nice. I couldn't see anything in that dark airplane bathroom!"

"Cool! It's a double-wide!"

"What?" Nick stepped into the bathroom.

Already inside the stall, Greg excitedly said, "The shower is built for two and the water was hot from the second I turned it on. We'll have to thank Grissom for letting us stay at the plush conference location instead of making us hoof it from a Super 8 Motel."

Although he knew his playmate was talking, all Nick could focus on was the sight of his friend drenching his aroused body and running his fingers through his damp hair. "I'm comin' in." He held up the unwrapped bar of soap. "And I'm only bringin' this, so don't panic."

As soon as their bodies met under the steady blast of hot water, the fireworks started, and in seconds their hands were slipping and sliding to uncharted territory while their tongues were getting savagely reacquainted.

"Having fun?" Nick quizzed when they came up for air.

"Yeah." It was hard to believe they could get more out of control than they had at 30,000 feet. "I've never fooled around with someone in the shower." Greg immediately he felt like a dork for confessing, so he tried to overtalk his way out of the awkwardness. "Not that I didn't want to, there was just never a good opportunity. I actually turned a girl down once, because…you probably shower with people all the time, huh?"

"No, I always shower alone." After running his tongue up the edgy newbie's neck, he nipped his earlobe. "I'm making an exception for you."

"Why?"

"Because I think you're fucking irresistible, Sanders."

It took all of the goofy geek's willpower not to yell 'that's the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me!' Instead he opted for a much smoother reply, "Gahhh." All five of his senses overloaded with pleasure, he realized he had set his sights far too low when he proclaimed he wanted to find Brian Kinney in Pittsburgh. Clearly Nick Stokes was the man to be with in Pittsburgh…or on a plane…or anywhere.

Wrapping a soapy hand around the most strategic spot of the incoherent man's body, Nick devilishly taunted him. "I don't know…from the sound of things, I'd say you're about to lose it. At least you're up to countin' in minutes instead of seconds." Snickering, he upped the pace.

Greg whimpered, "Trying…not to…" before losing his battle.

"Oops." Nick couldn't have been more pleased with the expedited results.

"Sorry."

"Not a problem." After his partner's last aftershock of ecstasy, Nick consumed his mouth with a transitional kiss and then turned around. It was the first time he'd pressed his back to a man since losing Wade and the feeling was momentarily overwhelming.

"You okay?"

"More than okay," Nick replied, as his buddy's arms circled around him. "Perfect." He closed his eyes to savor the flawlessness of the moment.

"What do you want me to do?" Greg anxiously whispered, in case it was more than the obvious.

Having orchestrated the situation so he couldn't have what he truly wanted, Nick replied, "Same as the plane, just facin' a different direction. Just handlin' things." When his request was answered, he reached around and locked his right arm around Greg's neck. "That's good…real good." His breathing quickening, he let his left hand graze over his lover's thigh and settle on his hip. "Mmm." He tightened his grip, making it clear that he wanted no distance between them.

Titillated by the unfamiliar and intensely erotic position of dominance, Greg's body reignited in record time. "I'm uh…"

"Yeah." It was a close as they could get to fulfilling what he truly desired.

As the urge to push things to an extreme consumed his thoughts, Greg finally understood his buddy's earlier words 'And just to make sure you can't change your mind about goin' further, we won't bring anything we'd need to things safely'. Nick had planned on teasing him with this incredibly enticing position, but making it impossible to follow through.

"So good…"

Greg remained silent as he endured the pleasurable torture of knowing an extraordinary opportunity was literally a half an inch in front of him. Besides Nick's words of warning, all that was stopping him from topping a guy he had always believed was unobtainable, was his mother's voice screaming in his head 'Promise me you'll never have unprotected sex, Gregory! Promise me! Never, ever, under any circumstances will you have sex with a guy without a condom! If you do, you'll get infected and die a horrifically painful death and I'll be wailing and sobbing at your bedside every step of the way!' Luckily his almost-lover's increasingly loud moaning drowned out the memory of his mother's shrill lecture, and he could once again focus 100 percent of his attention on the matter in his hand.

"Don't move," Nick panted, fearing his partner might actually throw caution to the wind, or even worse – back away. "That's…" Lost in the pleasure of letting go in another man's arms, he felt alive for the first time in years.

---

The shower was undeniably hot, and I'm not just talkin' about the water temperature, Steve. Greta took me places I hadn't been in a long, long time.

My wife and I tried to share a bath once. Our tub was really small, and I'm a bony six foot four, so it was like trying to bathe with a pretzel. She kicked me out after two minutes. And once again I'm reminded why I love listening to your life instead of mine. Keep going.

---

Pulling on the navy blue Abercrombie boxer shorts he had purchased just for the trip, Greg laughed and yelled to his buddy, who was raiding the mini bar. "Yesterday I was really worked up over what I was going to wear to bed when I was sharing a room with you, so I went out and bought a bunch of new shorts."

"Yeah?" Nick twisted open a bottle of brandy.

"I never thought you'd see me naked twice before seeing me in my new shorts."

"Sure you don't want a little something before sleepin'?"

"No, I'm good." Grabbing up the stack of papers he had put on his night stand, the DNA expert said, "I want to flip through my presentation notes a few times before sleeping. I don't want to let you down tomorrow."

"You won't." After polishing off his drink, Nick sat on the edge of his buddy's bed. "You wanna run through everything out loud and have me give ya feedback?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Nick only made the suggestion to have a reason to slip between the sheets. "Go for it." He fluffed a couple of pillows and then crashed on his back.

Five minutes into the presentation, the anxious presenter noticed his buddy was sound asleep next to him. Chuckling, he said, "Some help you are." After a few minutes of staring at the complex and vulnerable man curled up beside him, he realized the presentation had just been an excuse not to sleep alone. "The guy who always loves 'em and leaves 'em finally found a place he's comfortable staying." Running his fingers through Nick's hair he whispered, "Any time."

---

After a laborious yawn, Nick told his captor, "That was the best sleep I had in years." Exhaustion overtaking him, he said, "But when I woke up in Greg's arms, it felt too good, and I panicked. I told him it was fun, but I didn't want to..."

"Greg's arms?" Steve gaped at the CSI. "Told him?"

"That's how beat I am," Nick laughed off the slip. "I meant Greta's arms."

"Greg was the name of the guy who busted me and chased me in here."

"Yeah, I guess that's why I had his name in my…"

"The same guy who was willing to risk his life to help you until you screamed at him and begged him to leave the room." It seemed so obvious now. "That's why you reacted that way."

"I didn't want to lose another co-worker this year."

"That explains why he looked so devastated."

"Look…"

"I thought we were friends?" Annoyed that everything had been bullshit, Steve yelled, "Some friend! You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth!"

Sensing another lie would only make the guy more agitated, Nick replied, "I never tell anyone. I lie to everyone, not just you. My own mother doesn't even know."

---

Southwest Airlines Flight 588

After stowing her laptop bag under the seat, Connie Sanders checked her belt one more time and then reached for the book she had stowed in her seat pocket. By the time Dan returned home from IKEA she would be well on her way to Dallas.

"Seat belt?"

Connie lifted her magazine to show the Flight Attendant that her belt was fastened.

"Hey, my mommy is a PFLAG member," Chad excitedly told the lady wearing a PFLAG pin. "Who's the special queer in your life?"

"My son," Connie smiled at the gorgeous young man. "If you're looking, he may be single after my trip to Dallas. You're employed, you're beautiful, and you look about the same age as my son."

"You and my mother would get along fabulously. She's always trying to set me up with someone. She's even bought guys tickets just to fly on my flights."

"I think you two would look great together." Connie flipped open her wallet. "Here's a picture."

Chad studied the photo. "He looks kind of familiar actually. I always remember a gorgeous smile…among other body features."

"Come talk to me after takeoff." Connie chuckled, "I'll pull out the photo album I have packed in my carry-on. There's a bunch of photos of him in wet clingy swim trunks."

"Now we're talking!" Chad laughed, "You're much better at marketing than my mommy. She thinks my baby picture will convince hot guys to go out with me. I'm like – Mom! Break out the six-pack and ass shots! I want to attract a real man!"

---

I should have gone gay, then I never would have slept with Megan and got her pregnant.

All joking between Greg and Grissom stopped the moment Nick got caught stretching the truth.

Greg must be worried about you.

Yeah. I'm real worried about him too.

But you said that you and Greta weren't together anymore.

We're not, but it's…it's complicated. I was actually tryin' to figure things out when you came runnin' in here earlier. I didn't hear you because I was listenin' to Greg's IPod. I'm gonna catch some serious shit for that, because we're not supposed to be distracted when workin' a scene…for very obvious reasons.

Grissom shook his head. "I wondered why he didn't hear the guy coming."

"He borrowed it for work actually – for the song Bleeding Love, it's an element in a case – the teen girl on the football field."

Greg files his music into playlists and when I borrowed his IPod this morning, I saw he still had the list of 'Our Songs'. It's been eight months, I figured he had erased it a while ago…but he didn't.

Grissom sighted, "He borrowed it for the case and then he got distracted by finding your special playlist?"

"I wanted him to find the playlist, that's why I gave it to him, but I didn't want him to…this is all my fault." Filling with guilt, Greg's voice cracked, "If I didn't give him the IPod this morning, none of this would be happening."

"Blaming yourself isn't going to change anything."

What songs are on the list?

There's about fifty. Greg's real into music…and we had a lot of good memories, so…there's a lot of songs.

Where's the IPod?

I don't know, it went flying when you tackled me. Somewhere over there probably.

"Uh oh, my IPod full of personal songs and emo playlists is going to be evidence."

The boss nodded. "Not to mention fodder for IAB to pin this whole thing on Nick."

Steve, don't!

Hearing two gunshots sent Greg running for the front door of the house.

"Greg! Wait!"

---

"Steve!" Nick screamed as he helplessly watched his captor drop his pistol and slide down the bedroom wall, blood oozing from his belly.

"You tricked me." Clutching his gut, Steve landed on the floor. "There's no IPod."

"No! I didn't trick you!" Nick fought to break free from the cuff restraining him to the bed. "You walked in front of the doors and someone on the outside took a shot at you! There's no way I could have told them to do that!"

"You said you were my friend." He eyed the gun on the floor and strained to reach it with his left hand while his right hand tried to stop the blood seeping from his gut.

Watching in horror as the man struggled to reach his pistol, Nick pleaded, "There really is an IPod. I didn't trick you. Please don't…please."

"You're just like everyone else," Steve winced as his fingertips grazed the handle of the gun.

"No." Nick's eyes watered. "I was tryin' to help you."

"You should have died in that coffin." The dying man stated, wrapping his hand around the pistol's grip.

"Drop the gun!" Catherine yelled as she kicked open the French doors, but not taking any chances, she chose to shoot the man dead.

"Nick!" Greg screamed as he barreled into the bedroom just in time to watch a bullet bust through the killer's head. "Shit!" He covered his eyes, but it was too late, the graphic image was already burned into his brain along with too many other ones just like it.

Catherine grabbed her radio and broadcast, "I had a clean shot and I took it. Suspect is dead. CSI Stokes is okay! Grissom, did you copy that?"

CSI Stokes is okay. Shaking uncontrollably, Nick couldn't imagine a less accurate statement.

"What the fuck just happened?" Vartann frantically asked upon bolting into the room. He had taken off when he saw Greg rushing the house.

"I wasn't in the mood to lose another friend this year." Standing in front of the killer's lifeless body as it bled out onto the rug, Catherine coolly added, "I figured I might if we left things up to the Sheriff's office."

"You're goin' rogue now, Willows?" Vartann asked while holstering his pistol.

"I think I'd look really good in a black leather batgirl suit, don't you?" Grinning, she lifted her radio to listen to Grissom.

"We need to find the key for the cuffs," Greg said in a trembling voice, trying not to look at what used to be the killer's head. "Help me find the key!"

"It's probably on the DB," Vartann answered, applying logic. "In his pocket." Recognizing that Sanders was on the verge of nervous breakdown, the detective took it upon himself to grab a glove from one of the open CSI kits on the floor. "I'll look, you go check on Nick." Cringing, he dipped into the dead guy's blood soaked pants.

Kneeling in front of his trembling partner, Greg whispered, "You okay?"

"No." The traumatized CSI vehemently shook his head. "I'm sorry for what I said to you…about the coffin." Nick took a sharp breath. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't."

"Sanders!" Vartann tossed the keys across the room.

"Thanks." Filling with relief, Greg unlocked the cuff and started rubbing his partner's bruised wrist. "Everything's going to be okay."

Over Catherine's radio, Grissom's voice boomed, "The Sheriff has requested all involved personnel remain on site. He's waiting to hear from IAB."

"Time to play the blame game, gentlemen and lady," Vartann groaned. "And you know how fast those IAB bastards move. It's gonna be a lonnnng friggin' night." Noting Catherine was staring at what was left of the suspect, he walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"About offing him?" She droned, "I'm thrilled I got to do the honors."

"Make sure you don't tell IAB."

"Yeah." She glanced up at the detective. "How do feel lookin' at him?"

"Happy another fucktard is dead."

"Don't tell IAB."

"I never do." He nodded at Catherine. "Thanks for cleanin' up the mess I started when I gave the okay for this guy to go under the tape."

"I'm sure Riley would have done the same for you." Rolling her eyes, she strolled over to check on the boys. "I wanted to give you guys a couple of minutes. You okay, Nicky?"

Feeling sick over the way things went down, Nick replied, "You didn't have to kill 'em, Cath. I had convinced him to give himself up."

"Gee, I was hoping for something more like 'thanks, for saving my ass'." Stuffing her hands on her hips she lectured her far too compassionate friend, "That guy sliced open two people this morning, one of them was the mother of his niece and nephew. He was a ticking bomb waiting to go off again and you were trapped in a room with him."

"He was messed up. He needed help…"

"Give it up, Nicky!" Her emotions caught her off guard and she started yelling, "Some people deserve a bullet in the head, but you're not one of them and neither was Warrick! I was too late to save him, but I wasn't about to stand out there and let you die playing savior to some guy who didn't deserve a second chance! Today the good guys won and the bad guy got his brains blown out! You should be happy it worked out the right way for a change." Huffing for the door, she yelled, "You're welcome!"

***

When Vartann saw Nick's was still sitting against the bed shaking, he took pity on him and said, "I'll tell the uniforms you guys need another five minutes inside, okay? Cavaliere is on his way here to take over the scene and wait for CSI Day shift to send a new crew. Once he gets here, we'll need to do things by the book, because we're not exactly buddies and he's locked horns with you guys on more than one occasion. He's probably hoping to help IAB nail us to the wall."

"Five minutes," Greg replied as he nodded at the detective. "Thanks."

Once they were alone, Nick released the tears he had been holding back. "He was gonna walk out of here with me. He just needed someone to talk to first. That's what I was doin' this whole time – tellin' him stories, makin' him feel like we were buddies. After I while, I got tired and wasn't thinkin'…I told him about your IPod and didn't think to warn him about walkin' in front of the French doors until it was too late."

Just as Greg was about to tell his partner that he had overheard everything, his cell phone rang. "It's Grissom," he stated looking at the ID display. "Yeah, Griss?" he answered.

"I need you back here."

"I'm a little busy helping Ni..."

"Now! And bring Nick with you."

"Okay, we'll be right there."

Wiping the dampness from his cheeks, the exhausted man announced, "I'm really tired."

Helping his buddy to his feet, Greg said, "You clocked in eighteen hours ago, so it's not…"

"No." Nick shook his head. "I'm tired of everything...I'm done with this fucking job, with Vegas…I'm exhausted from lyin' to everyone…I just wanna get away from here, from everything…everything but you, G. I was listenin' to your IPod when Steve came barrelin' in here, that's why I didn't hear him. I was listenin' to Don't Panic and…."

"Wait! Where's the IPod? We're not leaving it here so they can find it and blame this mess on you." Greg scanned the room until he saw it peeking out from underneath the long silk drapes framing the French doors. After making sure no one was watching, he slipped the IPod into his pocket. "Let's go."

---

After hearing three of his CSIs and Vartann coming through loud and clear on the surveillance equipment, Grissom knew he had a problem. "Find the IPod, Greg?" the concerned supervisor quizzed upon seeing his employees. "I'm glad you're okay, Nicky."

"Thanks," the dazed CSI robotically replied.

"How did you know I swiped the…" When Greg saw his boss pointing at the surveillance case, he panicked, "We've been recording the whole time." They had wanted everything taped in case the worst happened, but now that it hadn't, he didn't want anyone to know what occurred in the house. "That's not good."

"No, it's not," Grissom huffed, "besides you breaking protocol to put the transmitter in the house in the first place and Vartann breaking protocol to let you, we were recording Nick the entire time, and he said a few things I think we really can't afford IAB to hear. I can't decide if the cherry on their sundae will be you yelling that you need to find the IPod to cover for Nick's mistake or Catherine and Vartann's little heart to heart – when they admitted they mutually enjoy shooting criminals instead of incarcerating them, and then laughing over how they can't tell IAB that little detail. How many wrongful death lawsuits would that spark?"

Feeling ten steps behind, Nick cleared his throat and asked, "What are you guys talkin' about?" When he saw the two men exchange odd looks, he pressed, "What's goin' on?"

"I um…" Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, Greg said, "I panicked when the guy cut off communication, so I snuck into the house and hooked up a surveillance recording device to hear what was going on in there. Grissom and I have been monitoring the live feed, but no one else heard…yet."

"I can't believe you…" Nick locked his eyes on Greg's. "You didn't know where the guy was when you went in there. You could've been shot the second you stepped through the front door."

"What was I suppose to do? Just stand here and hope you were still alive."

"Stop." Grissom stepped between the two men. "We have a problem on that needs to be fixed before any emotions can be purged." He pointed to the surveillance equipment. "We need to erase that recording and make sure not even someone of Archie's talents can recover the data. Greg, you're the only one who is familiar with it."

Surprised to hear his boss suggest that they should destroy evidence, Greg said, "You really want me to purge the data?"

"No," Grissom replied, "I want you to tell me how, so I can, and then I want the two of you to get out of here and turn your phones off. I'll handle the Sheriff and IAB for you, because the last time there was a problem they kept us waiting for nine hours and you're both too worn-out to deal with them period."

Not wanting his boss to get in trouble when he wasn't even at the scene when everything went down, Nick asked, "Won't you catch heat for that?"

"I certainly hope so." The burnt out supervisor waved away his employees. "But just to make sure I do – go take the next three nights off to recover from the duress. I don't wan to see you at the lab, understand? I'll tell the Sheriff if Tactical had shown up on time I wouldn't have needed to give my team stress leave."

---

"I'm getting three nights off with pay," Catherine cheerily informed Vartann, who was pacing the tape.

"Really? I just got chewed out over the phone by the Sheriff."

"I think I'm going to check into the Bellagio to spend some of my hard earned money on hedonism."

"Lucky you." The detective grumbled, "I'm suspended without pay until they decide if I made a grave error in judgment because I'm overworked, or if I'm just a lazy son of bitch who stupidly gave the okay for a double-murderer to trot under the tape and ultimately take a CSI hostage." Lowering his voice, he said, "This next part is a direct quote, but don't you dare repeat it. The Sheriff yells, 'That guy almost offed Stokes, a CSI who is a fucking legend for surviving that coffin bullshit. My voters love Stokes because he saved that little creepy little girl everyone thought was as dead as her pot-growing parents! At least if it was Sanders at least the blacks wouldn't be calling my office bitching!' Nice, huh? My boss is a moron and a racist, actually now that I think about it you can't really be one without the other."

"Technically a person can be a moron and not be racist, but I haven't met one."

"Whatever." Vartann stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. "I'm outta here."

"Hey, would you mind giving me a lift home? Grissom needs the supplies from my Denali and…"

"Sure, come on." He waved her to follow him down the street. "I apologize in advance…my car's a mess."

---

When they reached the front door, Greg paused before inserting the key. "Uh…I just want to warn you, the house isn't exactly up to Stokes neatness standards."

"After the day I've had, you think I'm gonna care if there are dishes in the sink?"

As he turned the key, Greg cringed, "It's a little bit worse than dishes in the sink." Opening the door he explained, "My therapist says the mess is an expression of my anger toward you, since you hate messes and the house is still half yours." Since the Nevada housing market was the worst in the country, they had no choice but to hold onto their real estate investment until the economy recovered.

Surveying what used to be a very relaxing great-room, Nick remarked, "What happened to our couch?"

Closing and locking the front door, Greg anxiously said, "It's under my clothes and blankets, and…stuff."

"Stuff like empty Corona bottles and a pizza box?"

"I've been doing a lot of writing out here."

Nick barely recognized his own home. "If your therapist is right about the mess being an expression of your anger, you must really hate me." Meeting his partner's eyes, he vulnerably asked, "Do you?"

"No. If I hated you, my life would be far less complicated." When Nick reached to touch him, Greg stepped back. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room."

Fearing what was going to be said, Nick replied with nervous laughter, "Is the elephant hidin' under your laundry pile or behind those stacks of books?"

Remembering his mother's words, Greg tossed his keys on the entry table covered in empty coffee cups and summoned up the strength to speak the truth. "I'm glad you're here because I wouldn't want you to be alone after what just happened, but we can't jump back on the rollercoaster again just because one of us almost died. That's how we got back together the last two times and look how badly that turned out."

"G…"

"No, we need to refresh our memories. Here's how it works - first we find some place private." Greg raised his hands. "Here we are. Then we hug to comfort each other – which you just tried to do. Then we start talking with our hearts and not our heads, which turns into us kissing our way into the bedroom and out of our clothes while we wonder how we could have survived without each other. All of which makes for a spectacular movie ending before a Hollywood fade-to-black, but we live in reality, and the reality is, six months later you'll freak about something petty and use it as an excuse to walk out the door and not come back until one of us almost dies again. Face it, Tex - if we were Accountants in a quaint New England village instead of CSIs in a violent city, we never would have gotten back together after the first break."

"G, please let me…"

"Did you know Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting to see a different result? If nothing changes, we'll get the same unhappy ending." Trying not to cave in, Greg glanced away. "Einstein was right. Admit it."

"Okay." Nick nodded. "I'll admit that if nothing changes, then nothing will be different this time."

"Thank you." Depressed by their sad reality, but relieved he had the guts to do what was best, Greg took a deep breath and said what his therapist would want to hear, "I think that's healthy progress…a step toward closure. From here on out, we'll support each other as friends who care, but don't touch each other." On his way to the kitchen, he spoke in a shaky voice, "The guest bedroom is spotless, because my mom stays there and always cleans it on the last day of her visit, so if you want to take a shower while I make breakfast, use the one in there. My clean clothes are piled in the laundry room, grab whatever you want. If there's anything else you need, just help yourself."

Without a word, Nick headed for the hall that led to the bedrooms.

Greg sighed as he opened the fridge. "My mommy would be so proud of me." He reached for a carton of eggs and used it to hold a package of ham, a container of mushrooms, a block of Swiss cheese, and a stick of butter.

"Hey, G!" Nick called out as he rushed into the kitchen.

"Yeah?" Cradling all the food in his arms, Greg shut the fridge with his foot.

Standing with his hands in the pockets of his faded black jeans, Nick asked, "Why isn't the master bedroom a mess like the great-room?"

Setting the food on the counter, the lonely ex-partner told the truth. "I don't like spending time in there, because it makes me miss you." He grabbed a mixing bowl and popped open the carton of eggs. "I come home and plop down on the couch with my laptop, eat, drink, and then zone out writing or watching TV. Eventually I pass out until my watch alarm goes off and tells me it's time for my shift. I get up, make coffee, toss my clothes in the pile, trudge into the shower, jack off if I'm up for it, and then get dressed for work and start the whole mundane cycle all over again."

"You said if there was anything else I needed, I could have it, right?"

"Yeah."

"I need you," the desperate man announced.

While his heart craved a romantic reunion, Greg's logical brain forced him to speak. "See, this is why we shouldn't be together right now, we're both too emotional over what happened at the scene and we're going to attribute those feelings to…"

"Please just listen to me for a minute." Nick took a step closer. "I had your IPod on before Steve got there, you know that, you heard me say it when I was in the house…and I said it when I didn't know you could hear me, so you know it's true. I was listenin' to our songs, to Don't Panic, and thinkin' about how I wish I could just get over the shit in my head and be the guy you deserve instead of the guy who panics and runs out the door. Talkin' to Steve and tellin' the Pittsburgh story, all I could see was how good we were together right from the start. That week in Pittsburgh was the memory I was relivin' in case he killed me. I wanted my last thoughts to be of us when we were happy and just startin' out…before I fucked anything up." His eyes watering, he begged, "You said if nothing changes, then everything will be the same, but what if things change? What if I make changes? What if I go to therapy? I'm too scared to go alone, but if I went with you, I could do it. I could if it meant you givin' me another chance."

Knowing how terrified his partner was of therapists since his nightmare conversion camp experience, Greg felt a glimmer of hope. "You would really…"

"Yes," he gulped, "I'll do anything it takes. Anything. I'll even tell my family if you'll come with me. We can catch the first flight out in the morning and be sittin' in my parents' living room by noon."

"You're willing to tell your parents to prove to me you're serious about things changing?"

"Yes. I'm hopin' those two promises and this one will get me one last chance." When he pulled his hands out of pockets, Nick held up the ring box that he had found exactly where they had stored it in Greg's dresser drawer. "I know we missed our window of opportunity for a marriage in California, but there are at least a dozen chapels here in Vegas that do commitment ceremonies. It won't legally change anything between us, but in my head it would still mean that in good times or bad, we're forever. No turnin' back. No one walks out the door." Taking his lover's hand, he flashed a jittery smile. "Will you marry me? Today. Right now? Please say yes."

"No," Greg replied without hesitation.

"No?" Nick's hopes and heart sank.

"No, because my mommy would kill me if we got hitched without her planning the whole thing." The thrilled groom-to-be burst into a grin

"You mean?"

"Yes! Wait!" Greg stopped Nick as he lurched forward for a hug. "Only after you do the other two things you promised to do – therapy and coming out to your family."

"Deal."

"And I want to wait and marry you in California when Prop 8 gets tossed, because I want a marriage license and real ceremony, not a thousand dollar Elvis-endorsed faux certificate and souvenir shot glasses."

"I kinda wanted to be wearin' rings when we go to Dallas." He shook his head. "Who am I kidding? It's not gonna make a difference to them, we'll be sinners just the same."

"It's not like we can wear the rings to work anyway."

"I realized today that I have been tellin' people lies about my personal life for two decades, so if it's okay with you, I say we come out at work…assuming we still have jobs after today."

Ecstatic at the prospect, Greg excitedly suggested, "We could do what my parents' friends Gary and Tim did - wear the rings on the right to symbolize commitment and then move them to the left on our wedding day." He plucked Nick's ring from the box. "If you panic again before the big day, I want you to look at this ring on your finger, take a deep breath, and remind yourself that the commitment is already there and that I love you." After slipping the etched platinum band on his partner's right hand, Greg kissed it. "If you ever give this ring back, it's because you want me out of your life forever."

"Understood." With trembling fingers, Nick pulled out the remaining band. "Thank you for trusting me when you have every reason not to." He gently pushed the ring into place. "And thank you for caring about me, even when I didn't want you to care." He brushed a kiss over Greg's hand. "No matter what I said or did, I've never stopped lovin' you."

Overwhelmed by the shocking events of the day, Greg announced, "I'm up for that reunion hug now."

Not wanting to waste another second apart, they threw their arms around each other and closed their eyes. Clasping each other tight, they remained silent for several minutes, enjoying the sounds of their hearts hammering and their lungs filling with gasps of relief.

"I missed you so much," Greg finally admitted in a tearful whisper.

"I wanted to say I was sorry a million times." Nick rhythmically stroked his lover's hair. "Life with you is the best life I've ever had, and to say livin' with you was worse than bein' in that…"

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't." Swamped with feelings he'd kept bottled inside, Nick choked out, "We were so happy. We were plannin' the wedding with your Mom and talkin' about gettin' the dog we've always wanted…then 'Rick died and somethin' snapped. I pushed you away when I needed you the most. It didn't make any sense…it still doesn't. G, I desperately wanted that life we were plannin', but I couldn't stop myself from ruinin' everything."

"It's okay," Greg soothed, running his hands over the back of Nick's shirt.

"It doesn't even feel like me when I'm pushin' you away, it's like someone has a hand over my mouth and I'm hearin' my voice, but it's really someone else sayin' the words. It's like bein' back in that box screamin' help when no one could hear me. What if there's somethin' really wrong with my head?"

"We're getting help and we'll work it out."

Remembering the devastation he had caused eight months ago, Nick strengthened his embrace. "I don't want to say nasty shit and hurt you again. I don't want to cause your family any more stress either. They treated me like one of their own and I thank them by tearin' your heart out and wastin' their time and money on a wedding that never happened."

"My family wants me to be happy and they know I'm happiest when I'm with you." Greg confidently said, "It'll work out this time. You just admitted you have some serious issues that need to be addressed. That's huge. You've never said that out loud before and you've never agreed to get help or come out to your family. We'll talk through the issues with Dr. Myers, who I swear on my mother's life, is a very ethical and professional therapist, not to mention a super cool lady. After things settle down and you're feeling more confident, then we'll go to Dallas and talk to your family together." He cupped his partner's face. "One step at a time, with me there every step of the way."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Brushing tears from Nick's face, he tenderly asked, "Do you still want breakfast?"

"Yeah," Nick sniffled, "got any Jack Daniels?"

"Plenty."

"Have you cleaned the Jacuzzi tub since I left?"

"No, but I haven't used it since either, so the only mess you'll find is dust."

Trying desperately to lighten the mood, Nick asked, "Wanna hop in there and drink Redneck-style with me?"

"I think getting naked and drinking straight from the bottle sounds like the perfect way to celebrate our re-engagement."

"Good, 'cause I stink from sweatin' buckets today."

"Yeah." Relieved that they were moving to levity, Greg smiled. "I noticed your stench when we hugged. Our breath reeks too, that's why I decided to postpone our always spectacular reunion kissing until we've brushed…or killed the germs and overpowered the odor with JD." Chuckling, he flipped open the pantry door and grabbed a bottle of Jack. "I just stocked up this weekend."

Seeing four large bottles on the shelf, the Texan said, "Holy shit, I really did drive you to drink."

"Nah, it was on sale and it's almost the holiday season, which means work will be getting even more stressful."

"Yeah, our domestic violence cases are about to triple. Right now, somewhere in this city there's a nutcase who will beat his wife over a burnt turkey on Thanksgiving and a few weeks later, the bastard will try to shoot his whole family on Christmas Eve."

"Ooh!"

"What?"

"Hearing you talk about domestic violence just reminded me to call my family." Handing over the bottle, Greg lunged into his pocket for his cell phone. "I need to tell them you didn't get shot by the psycho."

Twisting open the bottle, Nick sighed, "I bet your mom's gonna be reeeeal disappointed."

"She only meant half of what she said on those nasty voicemails she left you."

"Really? 'Cause she sounded pretty convincing when she said she'd slice off my balls if I ever kissed you again." Tilting the bottle, the almost-son-in-law chugged some of Tennessee's finest and hoped Connie wouldn't hunt him down and kill him upon hearing he survived. "Are ya gonna tell her we're wearin' rings?" he asked after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And miss the priceless look on her face when we show up on her doorstep flaunting them? No way!" After taking a lengthy swig from the Tennessee whiskey bottle, Greg laughed, "Let's drive out there tomorrow. 'We'll set Connie into a tailspin, and then go to our favorite beach hideaway with some blankets and chill out watching the waves and the sunset."

"While your mother sits at home and plots how she's gonna get rid of me for good?"

---

When the sexy gay flight attendant returned to chat, Connie opened the photo album she had brought to show Jillian Stokes. "Don't worry about the guy with my son in some of the photos, they broke up…sort of."

One look at the couple wearing LVPD t-shirts fired Chad's long-term memory. "Nick and Greg from LVPD! I knew I recognized your son's smile."

"You know them?"

"I used to work the Vegas to Pittsburgh route and met them when they were going to a Forensics convention. We traded numbers and met up at a club on my layover night." He laughed at the memory. "I meet a lot of forgettable guys and go to a lot of forgettable clubs, but those two were so adorably dysfunctional and that night so hilarious, I remember it well."

"Tell me everything," Connie insisted.

"Eww! No way, Mama Bear. I can't talk about your 24 year old virgin son's desperate search for a cherry poppin' stud." Chad riotously laughed, "Who am I kidding? Of course I will!"

***

Southwest Airlines Flight 588

On his fifteen minute break, Chad invited Connie to join him in the crew space, so they would have some privacy.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Connie laughed, "I hope people don't think I'm back here getting naughty with you."

"Anyone who saw me swish down the aisle will know you're not my type."

"Okay, tell me everything!"

"Nick called me to say he wanted to hook up at Sparx. He told me that he'd be bringin' Greg with him, but they weren't together and Greg would be busy looking for a Brian Kinney wannabe to fulfill some silly Liberty Avenue fantasy."

"I wouldn't let Brian Kinney anywhere near my son!"

"Yeah, well, that's what Justin's mom said, but that only made him want him more now didn't it?" Chad chuckled, "Every good boy with an overprotective mommy eventually goes looking for a bad boy to rock his world. It's your fault he was looking for a Mr. Wrong that night."

"You sound just like my father," Connie huffed. "He thinks Greg's gay because I didn't let the boy play hockey."

"Ha!" Chad jotted down his email address. "Email me when you get home and ask me to send a few of my hockey photos. I went to the conference championships two years in a row."

Connie had every intention of taking the young man up on his offer and proving her father wrong.

"Okay, so we meet at the club as planned and I was pretty surprised to see your son rating a nine on the twink-meter, because he didn't give off that vibe on the plane. Then I found out Nick had helped him with his look. He had trolled enough gay bars and knew just how to serve up Greggy on a silver platter to the horny masses. Guys could smell the cherry on him from a mile away and we weren't there five minutes before this lounge lizard locked his peepers on your son's backdoor. Let me know if I'm being too graphic."

"You're being too graphic."

Chad laughed, "Sorry. So I'm standing at the bar having a drink with Nick when The Lizard makes his move and wisks Greggy off to the dance floor. The next thing I know, Nick's eyes are popping out his head and turning green. I called him on it, because I wanted to get laid and couldn't waste precious time with a guy who's using me to make someone else jealous. He was shocked I busted him and totally copped to wanting Greg for himself, and not just for sex, he was head over heels. He said it was awkward because they were co-workers, and he didn't feel comfortable doing the asking, because he was in a higher position at the lab and Greg really looked up to him. He was afraid that Greg would feel pressured to say yes even if he didn't want to."

"That was very thoughtful of him."

"Yeah, I thought so too, so I decided to put off my own needs for an hour and help Nick get your boy in the sack."

"So I have you to thank for the years of misery I've endured?" Connie narrowed her gaze. "How can I toss you out at 30,000 feet without endangering anyone else on board the aircraft?"

"You can't!" Chad replied with his most adorable smile. "I was in Pittsburgh every week so I knew a lot of guys at the club. I called my friend Gary over and asked him to scare off The Lounge Lizard, which also scared the crap out of Greg, because Gary had a boatload of piercings. When Nick saw Greg's reaction, he got this brilliant idea to keep sending a new scary guy to bounce the current scary guy until Greg was so unnerved by the bar scene that he'd beg Nick to take him back to the hotel and do the honors himself."

"I'm assuming the planned worked, because Greg came back from the conference a different man."

"Yep, after my pal Seymour, who goes by the name Leatherman, told Greg he was packing nine inches and planned on sharing all nine with him for hours, Greg was offering up his virginity to the cowboy. The last thing I remember seeing was Nick backing your boy up against a wall and kissing him like he just found out the world was going to end in two minutes." Sighing, he said, "I'm still looking for a guy who will kiss me like that."

"The cowboy may be a phenomenal kisser, but it hardly makes up for his quirks. You're better off finding a nice boy without baggage." Connie grumbled, "I wonder how life would have turned out if the Lounge Lizard had been successful?"

"Your sweet little boy would have gotten a nasty case of crabs."

---

"Nana Olaf said she'll make you Seafood Bisque for dinner," Greg announced when he strolled into the master bathroom. "Sorry that phone call took so long, they had a lot of questions. Everyone's really relieved you're okay, and that we're okay again."

"Mmm, Nana's seafood bisque." Relaxing in the luxurious two-person Jacuzzi tub that had convinced them to buy the house, Nick smiled. "Now we're definitely drivin' out there tomorrow. I'm glad they still want to see me after I backed out of the wedding." Then he remembered Connie's angry words. "Wait…what did your mom say when she heard the news?"

"She's on a flight to San Francisco, so I couldn't talk to her. My dad didn't even know she was going there. When he came home from IKEA, he found a note saying she was going there to join forces with a Prop 8 opposition group. He doesn't how long she'll be gone." After shutting off his cell phone, Greg tossed it on the counter and started shedding his clothes.

"Your mom probably isn't on her way to San Francisco," Nick half-joked. "She's probably on her way here to make good on her threat and slice off my balls for kissin' you again."

"Technically your balls are still safe, because we haven't kissed yet." Stepping into the steaming water, Greg shivered with anticipation. "I like the delayed gratification approach we're taking this time." He swiped the Jack Daniels bottle out of his partner's hand and grinned.

"Me too," Nick dreamily replied while his eyes got intimately reacquainted with his lover's enticing body. "Not that I didn't enjoy the old version of exchangin' I love yous and bein' done with the first round of reunion sex fifteen minutes later."

"We're both in our 30s now, so a more mature approach is fitting. Okay, honestly, I was too stressed…at least I'm hoping that's why I couldn't get it up."

"The last two times we couldn't have our private reunion until a while after the initial trauma. This time we only had an hour in between one of us almost dying and us reuniting. Our brains are still too overtaxed to re-route critical blood flow."

"That's true, I didn't think of that." Greg's lips curved into a smile. "Thanks, I feel better about not rising to the occasion." After a mutual chuckle and another round of whiskey gulps, he reclined against his backrest, facing Nick. "But I won't be stressed for long thanks to that hillbilly swill and our Fuzion Dual Zone spa bath, which I love almost as much as I love you."

"I can't believe you didn't use it this whole time." Nick reclaimed the whiskey. "We bought this place for two reasons: this tub and the big shady backyard for the dog we planned to get."

"I tried, but I couldn't do it. This tub is memory-central. Besides all the naughty goodness that's taken place in, on, and around it, we've laughed, cried, solved cases, and dreamed of our future together in this six foot rectangle of pure bliss. It wouldn't have been relaxing to be in here when I was lonely and depressed, it would have been torture." Slipping his foot into Nick's tub zone, he poked him. "But you're here now and all is right in the world again."

"It feels great to be home." While caressing his partner's leg, Nick handed over the bottle. "It's like we never broke up."

"Did we? The definition of breaking up is not seeing each other, moving on, and hooking up with other people, right? We saw each other at work every day, and I didn't touch anyone else." With a drop of insecurity in his voice, Greg asked, "Were you with anyone this time?" Waiting for an answer, he took a gulp of JD.

"No." Nick shook his head. The first time they had broken up, he had gone on a topping spree to convince himself he wasn't the commitment type. The second time, he got as far as letting an anonymous girl undo his zipper, but didn't go through with it. "Never even considered it."

"Good, because I would have been jealous as hell." His joy returning, Greg chuckled, "And it would have been a vibe-breaker if I had to get out of this tub, get dressed, and run down the street to CVS to buy condoms while obsessing over you being with someone else and cursing you for making us go through another window period and testing cycle again."

"Monogamy is simplicity."

"Since we're so good at monogamy, maybe we should get married." Greg flashed his ring. "Oops, that's right, we already are."

"This morning we were separated, but now we're engaged. We really do get our shit together quickly, don't we?" Nick laughed and snatched the bottle. "I guess that means we probably weren't technically broken up. It was like we had a really long argument with me sleepin' on the couch."

"Just not a couch under the same roof." After stealing back the whiskey, Greg remarked, "Maybe it's a job related relationship consequence, because Sara and Grissom have the same kind of ridiculous marathon separations when it's obvious they still love each other."

"At least we're not as screwed up as them." When Nick saw his partner's reaction he said, "Okay, but at least we stay in the same city when we're apart."

The word 'apart' making him bristle, Greg reached out. "You're too far away."

Starving for affection, Nick jumped at the invitation to lounge in his lover's arms.

"That's better."

"Much." His back pressed against his partner's chest, and their arms entwined, Nick felt a peace he hadn't known in eight long months.

"You should have seen my face when I heard you say the Pittsburgh trip was your favorite date."

"I hadn't thought about that trip in years, but it was the first thing that popped into my head when he asked me to talk about the date I'd want to relive before I died." The word 'died' made him tense up.

"You're safe now." Greg whispered into Nick' ear when he felt his body tense. "While we're waiting for the whiskey and the whirlpool to work their magic, how about we relax talking about the rest of that story?"

"Where should we start?"

Grinning wildly, Greg asked to skip ahead to his favorite part, "How about right before I choked. I'll start."

"This should be good."

"After my nervous breakdown over Leatherman, you took pity on me and agreed to do the honors. To make it hotter, you suggested we do a little role playing, as opposed to approaching it from a 'buddies helpin' each other out' angle." Greg pressed a kiss to his partner's cheek. "You told me to go outside and wait for you to come out of the club."

"I cruised you like the Brian-wannabe you were hopin' to lose it to and you played the part of the nervous younger man really well."

"Only because I wasn't acting."

"I kept tryin' to stay in character, but failing every time my real feelings started to show, which made me seem like an escaped mental patient..."

Afraid he had made another faux-pas, Greg squeaked, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect." Brushing his thumb over the flushed face before him, Nick momentarily dropped his guard and shared exactly what he was thinking, "I just want you to know that I'm havin' the best time I've had in a long time. I've enjoyed everything leadin' up to this moment - the cab ride from hell, all the stuff we talked about on the plane, you makin' me laugh whenever I got bored at the conference. Seriously, even all the little annoying stuff you do, like not puttin' the caps back on the hotel shampoo and conditioner, isn't bothering me like it normally would."

"Why put the caps back on hotel shampoo and conditioner when housekeeping is just going to throw…"

"First you interrupt my role play seduction and now you're breaking the flow of my…"

"Your what?"

"Uhh..." Nick flustered, "Anyway, my point is…I'm havin' a great time with you. So, please remember that if I say somethin' different when I'm sober, or when we get back to Vegas, or if I turn into an insufferable prick out of the blue…it won't be your fault."

Greg laughed, "I was totally confused and yet too drunk, naked, and desperately hot for you to demand a coherent explanation.

"That's really the only explanation for you not runnin' from the room to find someone normal. But I finally chilled out when you started rockin' my world while that crazy flower song played."

"Flowers Become Screens." Greg laughed at the memory. "Also known as the song during which I choked and nearly died of embarrassment."

"Admit it, you like this song."

"You know what else I really like?" Nick moaned with relief when Greg dropped to his knees. "Yeah…mmm…somethin' tells me you've done this once or twice…or a lot."

"But you didn't know all my knowledge had come from my best gal pal, Becca verbally sharing what she learned at sleepaway camp."

"And you forgot to mention that you had an overly sensitive gag reflex." Nick shook with laughter as he recalled the spectacle for the first time in years. "When I opened my eyes and saw you – it looked like you had just swallowed battery acid." He laughed harder. "And when you finally could talk, you looked up at me with pathetic puppy dog eyes and whimpered somethin' like…

"I just killed the vibe again, didn't I?" Greg's mortification doubled with each passing second.

"Uh…if it makes you feel better, it was totally hot until you started violently gagging."

"Sorry, I've had a lot of practice, but never with a person."

Nick froze in horror. "Um…what exactly have you been blowin', G? Please don't tell me a sheep, because there was a guy back home and one night we caught him..."

"Popsicles! Not animals! Popsicles!" Greg frantically yelled, before sharing the rest of the story. "My friend Becca went to this posh all-girls summer camp and every Friday was popsicle night. It was a rite of passage for the junior counselors to demonstrate their oral wisdom on popsicles for the senior campers. Then the senior campers spent all summer trying to sneak off and try out their newly acquired knowledge with the boys from the camp across the lake. Becca was always too afraid of getting caught, so she never got to tell me about the real deal."

"You got that good just from workin' over popsicles?"

"And the occasional banana, but food doesn't explode without warning, so…" He lowered his head. "I should have left the club with Leatherman, at least I wouldn't have to see him again after embarrassing myself."

Overcome with guilt, Nick somberly confessed, "Leatherman wasn't goin' anywhere with you, neither were any of the other guys who came onto you."

"Because I'm a dork, right?" Greg mumbled, still staring at the floor. "I really feel ridiculous enough without you…"

"No, because they were all friends of Chad's who were told to freak you out but not kiss you or leave with you, because…" Nick froze. "Shit."

Confused for the tenth time in an hour, Greg glanced up and asked, "Because why?" He pushed. "Could you just be honest with me?"

"Because I wanted to leave with you and didn't have the balls to look you in the eyes and be honest about how I really felt." Freed by the truth, Nick decided to keep talking. "I've had feelings for you for a while, but never considered acting on them because we work together and because I haven't had feelings like this since...college. It's been a little tough acceptin' that I could actually have those kind of feelings for someone else, but after you helped me with the cabbie and listened to me on the plane, it just felt right." After a deep breath, he continued, "Then the other day when I woke up in your arms just like I used to wake up in his…I freaked. That's why I said I wanted to go back to bein' just buddies."

"But tonight you were being my buddy - picking out my clothes, telling me how to land the right guy, and encouraging me to score, so when did everything change again?"

"It never really did, I was just bluffing. Between keepin' my secrets and livin' in Vegas, I've become a damn good bluffer." Nick stuffed his hands on his hips. "Everything I was sayin' was bullshit to throw you off my trail. The truth is, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I was gonna let you spend the night with someone else. It was gonna be me all along, and to keep you from figurin' that out, I lied to you and played with your head. I used Chad's friends to make you feel anxious, dorky, and terrified, so you would fall into my arms and beg me to take you home."

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Greg ran his fingers through his rumpled hair, and tried to figure out what he was feeling. "You did all that because you wanted to be the first guy to screw me?"

"Look, I know it was a completely pathetic and shitty thing to do, but I only did it because I couldn't tell you the truth, hell I couldn't even admit it to myself until now."

After a full minute of gaping, Greg replied, "I can't decide if I'm pissed at you for making me feel like a loser all night, or thrilled that you sort of just told me you're in love for the first time in a decade. That is what you were trying to say, right?"

"I wouldn't say…I mean I guess you could..." Nick pushed past his fears and blurted, "I was losing my mind in that club every time you looked at someone else. The only other time I've ever felt that way was when I was with Wade, and since I know I loved him, I guess the answer to your question is…yes." The significance of the admission shaking him, he quietly said, "Please don't make me talk about how I feel anymore."

Trying to alleviate some tension, Greg joked, "You're as good at confessing your feelings as I am at swallowing, but we both had good intentions and that's what counts." When he received a smile in return, he added, "We'll both improve with time."

Nick shook his head at the memory, "Your skills improved dramatically in five days, but it's obvious I still have moments where I suck at sayin' what I really feel."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Feeling the love and a nice whiskey buzz, Greg teased, "I'm a genius and you're a jock, so of course you need more time to perfect things."

"Ouch." Nick turned his head to pout.

"Aww. Want me to kiss you and make it all better?"

"Yeah." Nick abruptly stood and stepped out of the tub. "But let's go to bed and not rush things."

Greg winked. "Like the first time."

"Doin' okay?" Nick asked, pressing his lips between his lover's shoulder blades.

"Um…" As much as he hated sounding like an inexperienced dork for the hundredth time that night, Greg lifted his head off the pillow and nervously asked, "Could you… um…maybe go a little slower?"

"Yeah, of course," the experienced man agreed, though short of not moving at all, he couldn't imagine the pace getting any slower. After another kiss to the first-timer's shoulder, he whispered in his ear, "You're too tense." Even though he had spent a lot of quality time up front to make things as pleasant as possible, he was starting to think he should have done more. "Try to relax."

Greg nodded, though he couldn't imagine how he'd manage it. While everything they had done since the airplane bathroom up until the big moment had felt spectacular, the actual act was surprisingly disappointing. His thoughts turning to Brian and Justin's first time, he wondered if the problem was that things weren't fast enough. Maybe tenderness was a turn-off for him and the real pleasure would come only after things got heated. "Uh…actually…maybe faster would be better…because I think I'm overthinking things and maybe if I was too overwhelmed to think, I could relax. Like really go for it."

Nick tugged his partner up on all fours and fulfilled the request.

"No, slower was definitely better!" Greg exclaimed, regretting his request almost instantly. "Can we try facing each other?" He thought maybe the lack of eye contact and intimacy was making it unenjoyable.

"We can try anything you want, honey." While seriously doubting the more challenging position would make things better, Nick made the transition with sensitivity and loving smile. "Better?"

"Uh… I think it will be...soon." Truthfully, it was the worst of all the scenarios so far.

After a few more minutes of awkward and awful slow-motion sex, Nick blurted, "I promise you're not gonna insult me if you say you're uncomfortable and ask me to stop."

"Why? Do I look uncomfortable?" Greg winced and twisted the bedding while waiting for an answer.

"You look like you're gettin' a root canal without Novocain."

"I guess I'm not as good at bluffing as you."

After a kiss, the merciful top said, "Okay, Sweet Cheeks, I'm sayin' stop for you." He retreated slowly. "Please don't worry about this."

Once he could breathe, Greg said what he thought was right, "It wasn't that uncomfortable, you could have finished."

"No, really, I couldn't." Nick chuckled as he lunged for the nightstand tissue box.

Feeling like a failure, Greg darted off the bed to seek refuge in the bathroom for the rest of his life.

"G, Wait!"

"No."

"Yes!" Nick wrapped his hand around Greg's wrist and pulled him back to the edge of the bed. "You shouldn't be havin' sex if you're not mature enough to talk about it."

Too embarrassed to make eye contact, the over-achiever in everything but romance, said, "I bet you're rethinking that flu call to Grissom, because five days at a boring conference has to be better than the hell you just suffered through."

"Please don't stress about this, G."

"I'm horrible in bed, that's a pretty big deal." On the verge of tears, he tried to pull free of the grip on his wrist. "I really need to get out of here. Please let go of me."

"If you fall off a bike, you get right back on."

"I told you on the plane that I didn't learn how to ride a bike until the end of 2nd grade. I was the only kid in the neighborhood who couldn't and all the other kids thought I was a freak." Greg lowered his head, "Which is exactly how I feel now. Sex with girls isn't uncomfortable, but there's no spark with girls, with you I see fireworks and get turned on just looking at you, but the sex wasn't pleasurable. It's the story of my life - I'm a freak." His emotions combining with the alcohol in his veins, he yelled, "I'm going to end up like Grissom – a brilliant, but horny genius with bugs for companions!"

"Can I talk now? Please." Nick slid to the middle of the bed and pulled Greg with him. "Just lay right there on that pillow and chill for five minutes. If you still need space after five minutes, I'll get dressed and leave you alone. Okay?"

Greg gave a reluctant nod.

"Thank you." Nick rested on his side, propping up on his elbow. "There's nothin' physically wrong with you, so there has to be a reason you didn't learn to ride a bike until the 2nd grade. My guess is you probably fell off one when you were younger and your overprotective parents freaked out and convinced you it was too dangerous, or that you weren't athletic enough to ride a bike like the non-genius kids, who were better at physical stuff, but not half as smart as you."

Smiling for the first time since 'sex-gone-wrong', Greg nodded, "Yeah, that's pretty much how things were growing up. I could only do safe things and my parents never wanted other people to see me fail at something, because I had this boy-genius image they were trying to protect. My Papa Olaf told me that I got a bike for Christmas when I was four, but I fell off it in the driveway and skinned my knees and hands."

"I knew it. That shit's in your head and that's why you freak out every time you try something new and the results aren't perfect."

"Very intuitive, CSI Stokes."

"Thank you. You're gonna need to get over bein' perfect if you want to be a CSI, because we don't always get things right the first time and some cases truly aren't solvable." He paused to steal a kiss. "What your folks should have done when you fell off your bike in the driveway was to put the bike on some short grass and let you try again, tellin' you that it wouldn't hurt if you fell onto the grass. You woulda believed them and gave it a shot, and when you succeeded, you would have been spared four extra years of feelin' inferior."

"Probably, yeah."

"So let's not repeat the same mistake again, okay?" With that he grabbed another condom from the nightstand. "Time for another ride."

"No, really, I'm not up for it." Greg backed away. "I get what you're saying, and I agree in theory, but I'm seriously not in the mood for anything sexual."

Ignoring the whining, Nick said, "Remember how much you wanted to go for it in the shower, but couldn't because we didn't have the supplies?" Grinning, he flicked the packet in his confused buddy's direction. "Go for it. I have a hunch you'll enjoy things more from the top."

"You really want me to…"

"Definitely."

"This isn't a pity thing is it?"

"No." Retrieving the tube he had tossed into the rumpled sheets, Nick grinned, "It's all I've been thinkin' about since that shower."

Greg couldn't snatch the tube fast enough.

Nick burst out laughing. "You look pretty jazzed for a guy who just said he wasn't in the mood for anything sexual."

"I think your theory might be right."

"There's only one way to find out." Passionate kisses and probing caresses quickly heated him to an extreme. "Start out slow," Nick cautioned as he tore open the wrapper. "It's been a while."

"How long?" It was one of those questions you shouldn't ask, but his curious mind had to know the answer.

Once the condom was in place, Nick locked his eyes on his lover's. "Since the last time someone cared enough about me that I could trust them." He brushed his lips over the parted ones in front of him and gave his insecure friend some much needed psychological lubrication. "Don't worry about bein' perfect, because you already have me seein' stars." After a kiss for good luck, he turned around.

"An insatiable top was born in that night in Pittsburgh." Greg planted a kiss on Nick's shoulder while popping open the tube in his hand with Brian Kinney finesse. "Which was exactly what you wanted me to be."

"Yeah, not that I mind changin' things up when you're in the mood." Rolling onto his stomach, Nick chuckled, "Just not tonight, honey, I had a rough day." All he wanted to do was feel the love between them and replace his excess tension with unbridled ecstasy.

"Not a problem." Greg tossed the tube and made his first move, reuniting their bodies for the first time in eight months. "Did you miss me, Tex?" he asked as they both shivered from the long overdue pleasure.

Savoring the intimacy he reserved only for soulmates, Nick closed his eyes. "Yessss."

"Good." Sliding his hand down his Nick's arm, Greg laced their fingers together as he slowly deepened their connection.

"I missed you so much." The grateful partner tightened his fingers around his lover's.

Pressing their bodies together, Greg murmured, "Loving you is still as perfect as the first time."

"I know I wasn't supposed to get hung up on things being perfect, but that was perfect!" Greg rejoiced and then anxiously asked, "Was it good for you?"

"You couldn't tell?" The overly satisfied lover laughed, "I'm sure the people in the room next door know I was enjoyin' myself. Seriously, we need to put a rolled up towel behind the headboard before next time."

"So there will definitely be a next time?"

"Hell, yeah, I want my shower fantasy fulfilled before sunrise."

Greg gushed with excitement. "I never would have thought our bedroom chemistry would work out this way."

"I guess we finally know who's the better Chemist out of the two of us then, because I figured it a while ago." Propping up on his elbow, Nick said, "You've spent your whole life bein' submissive to everyone, and I've spent my whole life bein' forced to be dominant – with my competitive family, at school, on the football field, on the police force, bein' a tough guy in the field. So it makes sense that we both need a little time away from bein' who everyone expects us to be."

"I'm sure that Lady Heather chick would agree."

"Yeah, but that's a whole other level of squick." Nick cringed thinking of the bondage cases he had worked. "I'm confident we can work out our issues without puttin' on pig noses or leather masks, and just to warn you -I don't like to be tied up or blindfolded. I've been held against my will one too many times to make it anything but traumatic." He laughed, "I'm an old fashioned cowboy – I like traditional gay sex and romance. Which reminds me…" He gave his partner a gentle shove. "The top traditionally ditches the tissue-wrapped condom and brings back a towel, so get to it. Take care of your man!"

"And just like that, The Dom is back!" Greg hustled for the bathroom.

"Hey! Could you bring me a cold beer too?" He winked. "Thanks, doll!"

"How about I rustle up a Turkey Pot Pie for ya!"

"Ooh!" Nick lunged for the room service menu. "No, we'll let LVPD pay for our after-sex munchies."

---

The Bellagio – Suite 9

"What should I use my hard earned suspension money to pay for?" Catherine perused the menu in bed while her new playmate was in the luxurious bathroom filling the tub. "Vartann! Do you have any food preferences?"

"Anything that I can eat off your chest works for me, sweetheart!" Laughing, he returned to the bedroom wearing one of the complimentary spa bathrobes. "I'm kidding, Red, and don't you think you should call me Tony now that we have carnal knowledge of one another?"

"I had no idea your name was Tony," she slurred, the champagne hitting her hard on an empty stomach. "That's so weird."

"Why? It's not your Ex-husband's name, his name was Eddie."

"No, it's so weird because I've known you for years and never knew Tony was your name."

"Some CSI you are Catherine Willows, native of Las Vegas, birthdate…"

"Say the year and you're out of here."

"March 26th. You graduated West Las Vegas University with a 3.8, very impressive considering you were paying your own way and working your ass off – literally."

"How long have you been stalking me?"

Returning to bed, he laughed, "I know everything about you CSIs and your Lab Rat friends."

"Oh really." She grinned, "Tell me who Nick is dating."

"For the last eight months, no one, before that he was shacking up with Sanders in a house on Canyon Ridge Road that he still owns with him. They paid too much for it in the first place, so I figure they held onto it after the split because they would have taken a huge loss in the current market. Just as well though, I have a feeling Stokes is probably moving back after today's drama. The last two times they got together were after the coffin nightmare and Sanders getting his ass kicked. I pretend I don't know they're gay since they're not out. I don't have a problem with gay guys as long as they're not shoving their ass in my crotch and asking me to show them a good time, but we've got a few serious homophobes in the department, so I can understand why they stay on the DL."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, I figured that would get your attention." Taking Catherine's hand, he led the way to the bathroom. "Wanna know what Wendy did in college that she doesn't want anyone to know about it?"

"Absolutely." Catherine was thrilled to have her two favorite pastimes combined – great sex and juicy gossip. "What do you have on Hodges?"

"Oooh, that one is honestly too good to give away for free."

***

When Greg woke to find himself alone in the bedroom, he panicked thinking his emotional and passionate reunion with Nick had been nothing more than a dream. A quick glance around the room only furthered his distress – there were no discarded clothes or any other evidence, like their discarded Mexican food containers and empty beer bottles. "Shit." But when he lifted his hands toward his face, he saw a platinum band on his finger and knew everything had been real. "Tex?"

The lack of a response prompted a new worry – what if Nick had bolted again? "Tex?" Greg flew out of bed and rushed into the great-room in his grey boxer briefs. "No way!" he exclaimed upon seeing the living area had been cleaned and organized back to its previously pristine state.

"Morning, Sunshine." Standing in front of a freshly brewed pot of coffee, Nick asked, "Did ya sleep well?"

"Like a rock." Greg checked the time off the oven clock. "Whoa, it's five a.m. already?" Usually when he was trying to reverse his sleeping time from days to nights to days, he would wake at one or two a.m. the first couple of tries.

"I wanted to wait for you to wake up in my arms, but I was wired at three and you were out cold." Tossing his arms around his lover's neck, Nick softy said, "I decided to come out here and clean up some more of the mess I caused when I walked out the door." Pressing his lips to Greg's he seized his first good morning kiss in eight months. "Last night was amazing and so are you. Thanks for lettin' me back."

"I'm surprised you stayed once you discovered there were layers of unseen crap under the visible piles of crap."

Reminded of the nightmare he discovered, Nick cringed. "I found two half-eaten apples under our couch, a pizza crust, and a ton of crumbs. You're lucky that stuff didn't attract ants."

"I kept paying the exterminating service for the bi-monthly treatments you ordered." If there was one thing Nick couldn't stomach more than a messy house, it was sharing his living space with bugs, ants in particular. "Because I knew you'd be back eventually."

The relieved bug-phobe smiled.

"Still up for driving to Encino?"

"I really could use a break from this city, so definitely." Nick swiped another kiss. "And you know how much I love takin' road trips. If we leave at six-thirty, we'll be there before lunch."

---

Immediately after turning her rental car into the Stokes circular driveway, Connie Sanders chickened out. The fear of losing her son was suddenly greater than her desire for closure, so she decided to drive by the outrageously charming and impeccably landscaped two-story ranch home, complete the driveway loop, and make a hasty exit back to the hotel where she had spent the night practicing her 'you son is gay' speech. Unfortunately, just as she reached the midpoint of the circle, the front door of the home flew open. "Dammit!" When she saw two little girls dart onto the large front porch followed by a breathless Jillian Stokes and three more cherub-faced children, Connie knew she had no choice but to park and explain her presence.

"Hi, there!" Connie smiled and waved as she walked around the front of her rented Camry.

"Howdy!" Mandi and Melani, the four year old twin daughters of William Stokes Jr., energetically replied.

"Connie Sanders?" Jillian stated, both pleased and surprised to see the mother of her son's co-worker in her driveway. Picking up her two year old granddaughter, Molli, while flanked by her four and three year old grandsons, Elijah and Zachariah, she burst into a welcoming smile. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Remember a few years ago when we had lunch together at the hospital while my son, Greg, visited Nick? You gave me your address and insisted that if I was ever in Dallas I had to stop by and see you." Connie held up her arms. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, yes of course. I'm so happy you made it. Come in, come in." She excitedly waved in the woman who had been exceedingly kind and supportive after Nick's coffin ordeal had left her shaken to the core. "I'm neck-deep in grandchildren and Thanksgiving crafts, so you couldn't have picked a better time. I guess The Lord heard my prayers when I asked for another set hands to help me get through this crazy project I never should have attempted with eight kids at once. Okay! Everybody back to the kitchen! We need to eat lunch and finish up before your parents show up to get you!"

"Eight?" Connie smiled at the five staring at her.

"Yes, thank The Lord I had the good sense to tell the other seven school-age ones to come by on Sunday after church. My husband will be back from his huntin' trip by then, not that he'll be much of a help in the kitchen, but at least he can supervise a few in the yard while I craft and bake with the others."

"You have fifteen grandchildren?" the mother of one childless son stated while trying to hide her envy.

"Twenty-two!" she proudly corrected. "The other six are teenagers who are too busy with activities." Shutting the front door, Jillian chuckled, "That's their polite way of sayin' they're too old to make cookies and turkey-handprint crafts with their grandma anymore. Not that I blame them, I've been doin' these holiday craft and bakin' parties four times a year since the first grandchild was two – Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgivin', and Christmas, so they've paid their dues. With my daughter-in-law, Marci, vowin' not to stop until she gives Bill Junior a son to carry on the Stokes family name, there's no end in sight. The two boys are my daughter Kendra's, but the twins are Billy and Marci's and so is this little princess in my arms. Their oldest, Madi, is in the house watchin' my daughter Kelly's son Jacob. Marci just gave birth to her fifth girl, Maggi, in July, which was number twenty-two. Billy told me they're about ready to try for number six, so God-willing, we'll have twenty-three and finally a William Stokes III by this time next year. We're a real fertile bunch," she chuckled. "Now if Nicky could just find a nice girl to settle down with, instead of bein' married to his job, maybe he will make another set of Stokes twins on his honeymoon and I'll end up with twenty-five grandkids by 2010! I like the sound of 'twenty-five grandchildren' as the title of my 2010 family Christmas letter, it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Uh…" The second Connie stepped into the large, sunny kitchen, which was filled with aroma of freshly baked pumpkin bread and eight adorable grandchildren, tears formed in her eyes. "You have a beautiful home," she politely choked out. "May I use your restroom?"

"Certainly!" Her southern hospitality shining through, Jillian graciously said, "My house is your house. It's straight down that hall, second door on your left. Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you." Clutching her tote bag like a security blanket Connie rushed into the hallway. "What was I thinking, coming here?" she muttered under her breath. It was like being in some twisted version of A Christmas Carol, where the 'Ghost of What-Might-Have-Been' was torturing her with scenes from the life she would have had if her three little angels had survived, and along with Greg, had given her grandchildren to bake and craft with around the holidays. "Oh my God," she breathed out, hyperventilating as she walked down the endless hallway lined on both sides with gorgeous family pictures and individual portraits of the Stokes children and grandchildren. "I've walked into my own personal hell." I have to get out of here!

But after scanning the walls twice, she was reminded that she was actually just a guest in Nick's personal hell and decided to stay and try to free him from his tortured existence. Except for his old high school and college graduation photos, there was little evidence he existed, other than his background appearances in family wedding and reunion pictures. Every other sibling was prominently displayed with their spouses and children, but Nick was only yesterday's news, given the tiniest patch of wall, in the darkest part of hallway…the forgotten child who would only be well lit and glorified once he married and reproduced.

---

Making the final turn toward the Sanders family home, Nick said, "We never discussed how you want to tell everyone the wedding's back on. Do you want to wait until your mom is there to…"

"We can't, because everyone will see our rings." Checking his hair in the passenger side vanity mirror, Greg said, "We'll surprise my Dad and grandparents, then tell them we want to wait and tell my mom ourselves. I'm sure Connie will fly home once she knows we're here. My dad didn't want to tell her and get her hopes up when she called from San Francisco last night, just in case we changed our minds and decided to stay home and make up for lost time in the sack."

"He didn't really say that, did he?"

"No," Greg laughed, "My dad has a potty mouth, so he said the f-word and then waxed nostalgic about reunion sex with a college girlfriend and how they broke her roommate's desk, which my dad had bent her over. My dad's a brutal top apparently." He laughed harder. "Like father like son."

Nick would never get used to the open dialogue expressed and encouraged in the Sanders household. "I'm gettin' really nervous." Feeling like a deadbeat boyfriend he was, his stomach twisted into a knot the second he pulled in the driveway of the ultra-contemporary Sanders home that was the polar opposite of the traditional ranch house he grew up in.

"There's a big surprise for you inside, Tex."

While parking his truck, Nick took a guess, "Your dad killin' me instead of your mom doin' the honors?"

"Trust me, you're gonna love it!"

Propelled by curiosity, the deadbeat boyfriend left the safety of his truck to join his obviously excited partner at the start of the winding path to the art-deco front door. "I'm anxious enough, G, just tell me what the surprise is."

"Nope." When he saw his dad and his grandparents in the open front door, Greg's excitement grew. "They must have been watching for us out the window."

"Great, it's an ambush. Any sign of weapons?"

Greg grabbed his man's hand and dragged him to the front door. "We're here!" he yelled, even though it was obvious.

"Welcome back to the family, Nicky!" Dan and Nana Olaf shouted, hoping it would ease the perpetually-tense man's anxiety.

Feeling his cheeks flush, Nick forced himself to make eye contact with the people who he had royally shafted eight months ago. "Thanks, I don't deserve the warm welcome, but I'm grateful for it." He stepped forward to give Nana Olaf a hug. "I'm really sorry for the drama I caused all of you." When he heard Papa Olaf muttering in Norwegian, he gulped. "Uh…"

Instead of correctly translating what his crusty grandfather had grumbled, Greg said 'he can't wait to talk sports with you over Nana's seafood bisque!'" Then he excitedly hugged his father and whispered, "Love you, Dad. Are we all set for the surprise?"

"It's waiting in the laundry room."

Nana smacked her husband's shoulder and cursed him for saying 'I wonder how long the nutcase will stick around this time?'

"Check it out!" Greg joyfully lifted his right hand and Nick's. "We're engaged! As soon as mom and her cronies get Prop 8 tossed, we're gettin' hitched!"

"I'm so happy for you." Nana kissed her grandson's cheeks and gave him a big squeeze. "Maybe now you'll relax and put some weigh on. You're too skinny again, I can feel your ribs. Good thing I made a big lunch for you."

"I promise to stuff my face." Greg pointed into the house. "Give me a two minute lead."

"You got it." Dan extended his right hand toward his future son-in-law. "Whatever makes Greg happy, makes me happy, and for some strange reason, you make him happy, so I really am glad you came to your senses…again."

"Thank you, Sir." Nick returned the handshake. "I promise I won't get cold feet again."

Tired of all the mushiness, Papa clapped his hands. "Come on, come on, let's go inside and do that thing we're supposed to do, because I'm hungry, and who knows how long the cowboy is gonna stick around." He slapped the boy on his shoulder and squeezed. "If you leave my grandson again, I'll ignore Greg's pleas to spare your life and come after you with my Viking wrath. I don't know if he's told you, but we can trace my ancestry back to Ivar the Boneless who was strong enough to conquer York while being carried on a shield! Ivar's favorite thing to do was carve the blood eagle on the backs of traitors. Do you know what 'carving the blood eagle' means, Nicky?"

"Uh…" Nick politely replied, "No, Sir, I don't, but I have a feeling it's not a tattoo."

"It's when the back is carved open and ribs plucked out one by one until the lungs can be plucked like…"

"Can it!" Nana Olaf scowled at her husband. "Don't listen to him, Nicky, he comes from a long line of bakers, not barbarians. The blood eagle – ha! He's too squeamish to de-bone a chicken for supper."

"Yeah, some Viking, you faint from the sight of blood." Dan motioned for Nick to follow him into the living room. "Greg's bringing the surprise out here."

"Can I have a hint?" Nick pleaded, hating surprises.

"It's spread on bread with grape jelly."

"Peanut Butter?"

"Skippy." Dan pointed to Greg walking down the hall with the ten-month old purebred Redbone Coonhound puppy they had been caring for since the end of July.

Stunned by the sight, Nick covered his mouth with his hand.

"Greg ordered him from a breeder and planned on giving him to you as a surprise gift when you returned from your honeymoon and the end of July. He didn't want to cancel the order after the wedding was off, which we all translated to mean he hoped you'd be getting back together. We offered to keep Skippy here until the puppy stage was over and he could cope with being at home alone while Greg worked."

Stunned by the revelation Nick squeaked, "He's so cute."

"I know, I missed him. He's gotten much bigger since I last saw him." Greg knelt down and let the puppy lick him. "Skippy's the real reason I wanted to drive out here today."

"I can't believe we have a puppy." Tears welled in Nick's eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I was using Skippy to trap you."

Dan turned his back so he could silently release his laughter over the boys discussing the Coonhound like it was a love child Greg had been hiding.

Feeling like a deadbeat dad, Nick said, "He's been livin' here all this time. What if he's already bonded with everyone else and wants nothin' to do with me?"

"Come on, Tex, he's a ten month old puppy, not a bitter twenty year old whose father didn't pay child support." Releasing the leash, Greg gave the pup a gentle push in the right direction. "Go meet your other daddy."

While Nana Olaf cried tears of joy, Dan's laughter filled the room. "Sorry, boys, but…" his laughter returned before he completed his apology.

"C'mere." Nick knelt down and opened his arms, hoping the pup would accept him. "Here, Skippy!"

"See." Greg's heart warmed at the sight of Skippy wagging and slobbering kisses all over Nick's face.

"Connie is going to kill us for not videotaping this very special episode of My Gay Son." Watching Skippy lick away the cowboy's tears, Papa Olaf shook his head. "Danny Boy! Don't just stand there! Get a camera and start snapping pictures for Connie's scrapbook. If you don't, she may kick you out of the bedroom again."

Dan dashed off. "I'll grab the Kodak from my office!"

Joining his partner and the new addition to their family, Greg jokingly barked, "Who's your other Daddy, Skippy? Who's your other Daddy?" He howled so the puppy would react. "See, he knows."

"Thank you." Nick bear-hugged his mate and cursed himself for the millionth time cursed himself for leaving. "I can't believe you were tryin' to give me a family while I walkin' out the door."

"We're moving on, not looking back, remember?" Greg handed his partner the dog leash. "Let's go outside and play fetch with our boy."

"After that, I want to take him to Petco and buy him some treats and stuff." Nick grinned uncontrollably. "I can't believe I have a dog. I haven't had a dog since I left home for college."

"Time for a family portrait, boys." Dan motioned for the threesome to huddle up. "Aww. That's perfect."

"Today it's a Coonhound," Nana sighed, "Next year…a baby." The boys had no idea that Connie and Dan had found the perfect surrogate and were praying the boys would give them a grandchild one day.

Greg let his grandmother down gently, "Sorry, Nana, with our jobs, raising a puppy will be more than enough of a challenge, and I really can't imagine ever being responsible for more than a dog."

"Don't give up." Nick winked at the sweet woman he knew was just looking out for her daughter's interests. "I might be able to convince him to let me have a baby some day."

Thinking of a story in the news recently, of a woman who had a sex change operation to become a man, but still had the inside parts to successfully carry and deliver a baby for his infertile wife, Papa stated the obvious, "Nick has a secret uterus? What else are you crazy people keeping from me?"

---

"You still haven't told me what brought you to Dallas, Connie." With her rambunctious grandsons on their way home with their mother, Jillian decided to relax on the patio with her guest while watching her four granddaughters playing in the yard.

"Business." Family business.

"Forgive me if you already told me, but what do you again?"

"I'm a retired school teacher, but I sit on various committees and do consulting work to fill my free time." The President of her local PFLAG chapter smiled at the full-time grandma. "Believe me, I'd rather spend my time doting on grandkids, but until I have one, I need to keep busy somehow."

Troubled by her youngest child's prolonged status as a bachelor, the concerned mother asked, "How old is your boy?"

"Greg turned 30 in May."

"Nicky's 35 and I worry, because he really doesn't seemed to be interested in anything but work. Do you think it's the job? Because Nicky's boss, Mr. Grissom, he's not married and everyone who has been married on the team ended up gettin' divorced. Does your son show any interest in findin' a girl to settle down with and start a family?"

"No," Connie answered truthfully.

"Greg just turned 30, so he has a little time, but Nicky's half way to 40 already and all he ever talks about when he comes home once a year, is his job. It's like he doesn't have a life outside of the lab." Jillian shook her head. "I thought for sure almost dyin' in that coffin woulda helped prioritize his life, but instead of takin' time to smell the roses, he went right back to workin' seventy hours a week. When he came home for Christmas that year we introduced him to this lovely girl, Natalie Westmore, she's a social worker and her father is an elder at our church. She was perfect for him – red hair, nice curves, an A&M graduate who enjoys watchin' sports. Most of all, their jobs were so similar – they both were advocates for victims who couldn't speak for themselves. We thought for sure they'd hit it off, but after one date, Nicky said she was a great girl, but he didn't have time for a long-distance relationship and didn't want to string her along."

Loosely quoting her son, Connie said, "Not everyone is meant to have a spouse, kids, a safe job, and a ranch in the burbs. Some people have to fight for justice for innocent victims and lock away dangerous criminals or the world wouldn't be safe for anyone's children, right? Anyway, you already have 22 grandkids, so is it really critical that Nick adds to the pile?"

"Forgive me if I sounded greedy earlier when I was talkin' about my 2010 Christmas card." Jillian sweetly tried to correct the misperception, "It's not about my needs at all. It's about me wantin' my boy to be happily married and enjoyin' life as much as his brother and sisters. As a mother, it really pains me to see one of mine not havin' the same opportunities and joy as everyone else."

"I know exactly what you mean," Connie snipped, thinking of how Prop 8 just took her son's right to marry away. And I am going to remember your words and feed them back to you some day.

"Especially when so many terrible things have happened to Nicky in the line of duty. Of anyone, he deserves the most happiness out of all my children, not the least."

"How do you know he's not happy?"

"A mother knows when her child is troubled." Jillian glanced at her guest. "Don't you know when something is botherin' Greg?"

"Yes, because he calls me and tells me."

"Nicky's never been one to say how he's feelin', and I'd never pry, so I have to guess. When he's here he puts on a good show for the family, but in the quiet moments when he doesn't know I'm watchin', I can tell somethin' is truly wrong." Jillian floated her theory. "I think the horrible things he's seen on the job have damaged him – much like a front-line soldier after a brutal war."

"Mama!" Six year old Madi yelled from the top of the redwood playset. "Watch Molli go down the slide like a big girl!"

"Hey, Maci." Jillian stood to greet her daughter-in-law. "Where's the baby?"

"I left her in the kitchen. She's asleep in her carrier and I didn't want her to get a chill outside."

"Where are my manners?" Jillian chided herself. "Maci Stokes, this is Connie Sanders, the mother of one of Nicky's team members and a friend. We met when I was stayin' at the hospital with Nicky and she took up on my offer to drop by if she was ever in Dallas. She flew in from California last night."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Maci pushed out a smile. "I didn't know I'd be meetin' anyone, please forgive me for lookin' like this." She appealed to her mother-in-law, "Please don't tell Billy I met one of Nicky's friends when I was lookin' so awful, he'll see red."

"I promise, honey."

Connie couldn't see a thing wrong with the beautiful young woman except for some dark circles under her eyes. "Don't be silly, you look fabulous, dear. I only had one child and didn't look half as lovely on most days. I'm surprised you can shower when you have five girls under the age of seven. There were days when my husband would come home and my hair would look like it had survived a twister."

"Let's go, girls!" Maci shouted. "Mama has to cook a fancy dinner tonight!" She turned to her mother-in-law. "Billy called this mornin' and informed me he was bringin' home people for dinner and that we had to have rack of lamb. In between nursin' Maggi all day, I've been frantically cleanin' and shoppin'. I'm so beat, I'm startin' to think I'm pregnant again. Billy couldn't wait another month like I wanted to, so it is a possibility."

"Do you need me to keep the girls here until tonight?"

"No, he wants them all in their Sunday best sittin' around the fire readin' scripture when the man and his family arrive, because the guy is in the Christian book or music business, or somethin'. I don't know, I didn't ask questions."

Connie gaped at the Stepford wife standing before her. "If I had five small children and my husband had called demanding Norman Rockwell perfection by sundown, I would have told him to shove a rack of lamb where the sun. Sweetie, you're his wife, not his slave."

"There's a difference?" Maci vacantly replied as she gathered her children. "What do you tell Grandma Stokes and her friend?"

"Thank you, Grandma!" they all chimed in perfect unison. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanders!"

"Yes, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanders." Maci feigned one last smile. "Have a safe trip back to California."

Once they were alone, Connie said, "That poor woman is exhausted. You should call your son and tell him the poor thing needs to be resting, not hosting a dinner party for twelve. Suggest he pick up Chinese or something."

"Good heavens, I would never involve myself in my son's personal life." Jillian chuckled at the crazy notion. "He's a grown man, I can't imagine how emasculated he'd feel if his mommy meddled in his affairs. Wouldn't Greg be shocked if one day you picked up the phone and started bossin' him around?"

"Well…"

"Billy is the head of his household and does what's best for his family. Don't worry about Maci, she's a strong woman who knows her place. Behind every successful man there is an exhausted woman who helped him succeed. Maci is committed to helpin' Billy advance in his career and provide more for their family, just like I did."

Connie was still trying to process the 'behind every successful man there is an exhausted woman' part. "Wow." I thought I took a plane here, but obviously it was a time machine. "Look at the time! I don't want to overstay my welcome, so…"

"Don't be silly!" Jillian took her friend by the arm. "I've been home alone all week except for grandkids, so I'm happy for the adult company. If you don't have any plans, let me show you around the city. I'd love to sneak in a little shoppin' before Bill gets home. Don't repeat this, but my husband is a bit of a tightwad. He made sure all the children analyzed the value of every dollar before they spent it. Some of the kids, like Billy, are just as bad, but others like my daughter Kimberly, went the opposite way. She loves to come here and show her daddy how she wasted her money on the latest trend or silly gadget. Bill bit his tongue when she showed up carryin' her pocket Chihuahua in a special purse, but when she took the dog out and it was wearin' a cute pink sweater with little heart rhinestones on it, he lost his mind. Her daddy never let the family dogs in the house, so she did it on purpose knowin' it would rile him up."

---

"Check this out, Tex!" Standing in the clothing aisle at Petco, Greg held up a Cowboys football jersey. "Skippy can wear it on Sunday when Dallas kicks Washington's ass."

"My sister brought her Chihuahua over to my folks' house and when my dad saw it was wearin' a fancy pink sweater he just about lost his mind. He thinks dogs should be outside and definitely not outfitted in the latest trends. He'd have a fit seein' a shirt on a Coonhound, even if it had the Dallas logo."

"So is that a yes or a no to the jersey?"

"Definitely a yes." Nick grabbed the shirt and tossed it in their cart. "I'm gonna put it on Skippy and get his picture with Santa and send it to my parents as my Christmas card. Won't they be shocked to see I can have a photo card just like the rest of my siblings."

"If you really want to shock them, let's send the family photo my dad just took of us posing with Skippy."

While therapeutically petting his puppy's back, Nick quietly said, "I think it's best to tell them in person rather than surprisin' them with a picture."

---

"Don't forget your tote bag!" Jillian rushed to pick up the quilted paisley bag from the kitchen counter. "Unless you want to leave it here while we shop?"

No longer wanting to blow the whistle on Nick, Connie said, "I'll put the bag in my rental car, thanks." But as she went to take it, she missed the handle and the tote and all its contents, fell to the floor.

"Forgive me." Jillian crouched down to retrieve everything.

"That's okay! I'll pick everything up!" Connie blurted upon seeing one of the photo albums had opened up on impact.

"Is that my Nicky without a shirt on?" Jillian didn't have her reading glasses on, so she couldn't be sure. "It looks like…"

"Yes," Connie admitted without making eye contact. "I came here with every intention of telling you, but your grandkids were here and I chickened out."

"OH!" The stunned mother grabbed her chest. "My God in heaven!" She couldn't believe she had been so blind. "I can't believe I treated you like a friend when you're committin' adultery with my little boy!"

"What?" Connie shrieked.

"How dare you bring your collection of half-naked photos of Nicky under my roof!"

"You have it all…"

"Did you honestly think I was gonna welcome you into the family with open arms?" Her temper flaring, Jillian pointed to the door. "Get out! I can't believe I let you around my grandchildren!"

"Would you calm down and listen to me?"

"I'm gonna call my husband and let him handle this with Nicky!" Believing her son's obsession with older women came from being molested by a babysitter as a child, she burst into tears. "I knew the boy had problems, but…"

"I'm not Nick's secret love!" Connie roared over the irrational woman's sobs. "My son is!"

***

"We're baaaack," Greg announced when he entered the house through the front door with Nick and Skippy behind him.

"We're in the family room watching TV," Dan's shouted back. "Come show us what you got the pooch!"

Anxious to show off his purchases and his happiness, Greg led the way.

"Your dad sounds excited." Nick shook his head. "My father would lose his mind if I told him how much I spent on this puppy in one afternoon."

"We didn't spend that much, and who doesn't spoil their first kid?" When Greg strolled into the family room, he walked over to the cushy brown leather sofa to greet his grandmother a hug. "Nick bought you some flowers, Nana."

"Aww, that was very sweet of you, Nicky. They're beautiful." Nana grinned at the young man as he presented the bouquet. "But really, you can stop sucking up to me now. I really do forgive you and believe you're here to stay."

"No, I got 'em for you makin' bisque." He pecked her cheek. "To say thank you."

"She may be satisfied with you, but I'm not there yet, cowboy." Papa Olaf glared at the fickle young man. "I like 20 year old Scotch."

"Duly noted, Sir." Nick gave the old man a nod.

"Check it out." Opening one of the Petco shopping bags, Greg pulled out a treat. "At the pet store they told us Pig Ears were passé. Bully Sticks are now the preferred chew of the canine set." He handed the treat to Nick, so he could offer it and tighten his bond with the pup.

"Sit, Skippy." Once the floppy-eared Coonhound followed instructions, Nick handed over the treat. "Good boy."

The five adults watched the puppy trot over to the pet bed next to the fireplace and start chomping on his new treat.

"Looks like the Petco people were right. Skippy loves it." Nana Olaf watched the puppy with a smile. "It smells a little funny though. What are Bully Sticks made from? Pig skin?"

"No." With scientific detachment, Greg explained, "They call it a Bully Stick, because it's a dried Bull Penis. I think it's great that they find ways to use every part of an animal after slaughter. I wonder what they do with the eyeballs."

"Ugh." The idea turned Nana Olaf's stomach. "Why would you think it's a good idea to have him put a penis in his mouth? That's disgusting." Then she thought about what she said. "Not that I'm saying…what I meant was…I was talking about dried, dead penises, not good ones."

While Greg laughed along with his wacky grandmother, Nick flushed to a bright red.

"Unbelievable." Papa Olaf sighed, "One afternoon of shopping with the boys and the dog is gay."

"Yeah." Dan Sanders teased his father-in-law who believed ice hockey would have kept Greg straight. "Too bad they didn't take Skippy to a hockey game, he'd be around the corner knocking up Mrs. Talvert's fluffy white poodle, right, Pop?"

Ignoring the banter, Greg said, "I called Becca to tell her the wedding was back on and she invited us to a party at her house tonight. I really want to see her, but I'm not in the mood for some of her guests or the 90210 scene. I didn't fit with them when I was a poor San Marino scholarship student going to their prep school, so I really doubt they'll be impressed by me being an underpaid and overworked CSI who drives a beater." He shrugged and lied, "Not that I ever cared what they thought about me."

"I really didn't want to go anyway, G." Nick pointed to their pup. "It's our first night with Skippy."

Dan chuckled, "Skippy goes to bed at ten and has been sleeping through the night since August, Becca's party probably doesn't even start 'til eleven. Go out and have fun while you have free babysitting." When he saw they were still waffling, he added, "Nick, I'll let you drive my Jag convertible, and Greg…we weren't poor when we lived in the San Marino house, we were middle class. It just seemed like we were destitute in comparison to your classmates who hopped on their daddy's private jet to go to Fiji for Christmas. If anyone asks, just say you're an adrenaline junkie who loves the thrill of being a CSI. Tell them you donate your salary to an organization called Perros con Tres, a group that provides prosthetic limbs to 3-legged dogs in Guatemala and those drunk twits will ooh and aww and whip out their checkbooks to support your cause."

When Greg looked to him for a decision, Nick smiled, "He had me at 'you can drive my Jag convertible'. In exchange for a joy ride in a vehicle with a 420 horsepower, supercharged 4.2 liter engine, I can handle superficial idiots for an hour. Coast highway here we come!"

"Can I pick the tunes?"

"You bet."

Greg nodded at his father. "Okay, you can babysit the grandpup while we go out."

---

"Get out!" Jillian clutched her head. "Telling me something much worse to make me less angry about the truth didn't work when my children tried it, so it certainly won't work for a scheming adulterer like you!"

"I'm not lying!" Connie showed a scrapbook page of Nick and Greg sound asleep spooning in her backyard hammock.

Staring in horror at the photo, the confused mother anxiously said, "I'm not a bumpkin, I know photos can be altered on computers."

"Look, I know this is a horrible way to find out and I'm very sorry it happened this way, but the cat is out of the bag now and we have to deal with it." Connie calmly tried to reason with the overwhelmed woman in front of her, "I honestly believe everything happens for a reason. I came here to tell you the truth because I was fed up with the suffering caused by Nick living in fear of you and the rest of your family finding out he's gay. When I arrived, I immediately came to my senses and realized it wasn't my place to tell you, but now the scrapbook accidentally opened. I believe that means it really was time for you to know the truth."

"I want you to leave."

"You should be thanking me, not kicking me out!"

"Thanking you?" Jillian couldn't imagine hearing anything more absurd.

"Yes." Determined to break through the wall of denial Jillian was frantically building, Connie held up another loving picture - Greg feeding Nick a bite of marzipan on Christmas. "Just thirty minutes ago you were sad for Nick and wishing he could be happily married and enjoying life like his siblings. I'm here telling you he is happy. Except for a few small break ups when the stress of leading a double life got to be too much for him, Nick has been together with Greg for years. That's why I was at the hospital the day I met you. I flew to Vegas to support Greg when he was beside himself over what happened to Nick. I took you to the cafeteria for lunch that day so our sons could have some time alone together."

"I can't believe…"

"It's true. They love each other, Jillian. Look at the pictures and you'll see it." She selected a photo of the boys at the beach. "Whenever they come to visit us in California, Nick is relaxed and smiling. He's sweet and romantic with Greg, they snuggle on the couch watching movies, they go to the ocean, they picnic under the stars. They've been out with us on our boat and we've taken them to Catalina Island on vacation. He has exactly what you were just wishing he did - a happy, normal life. Nick is only depressed when he's here because he's pretending to be someone he's not and he hates lying to all of you."

Fighting to stay in denial, Jillian turned her back on the photos. "The only liar in this house is you, and you've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you and your vile scrapbook full of lies to go." Without making eye contact, she marched to the front door and unlocked it.

---

After making sure the door was locked, Nick scanned Greg's bedroom suite, "Wow, it looks like a completely different room." He liked the rustic feel much better than the old contemporary style with black metal furniture and white bedding. "I really love it, especially the carved wood headboard. It's like we stepped into a tricked-out cabin in Montana."

"Once we were married, my mom wanted you to feel like this was your home away from home too, so she picked the furniture with you in mind and the red, gold, and chocolate brown colors were for me." After tugging off his t-shirt, Greg said, "Wait until you crawl under the covers. It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"Great, another thing to feel guilty over - I'm sure she was thrilled she went to that expense of redecoratin' after I walked out the door." Shaking his head, Nick tossed his overnight bag on the floor. "It's gonna take a lot more than a nice bouquet or twenty year old Scotch to win her back."

"As soon as she sees how happy I am, all will be forgiven, but not forgotten. Connie never forgets anything." Stripped down to his black boxer-briefs, Greg walked over to the bed and lifted the digital alarm clock from the nightstand. "If I set it for ten p.m., that'll give us over five hours of Z's and plenty of time to shower and get to Becca's house fashionably late."

"Good." Nick neatly folded his jeans and hung them over the back of the desk chair. "I've been up since three and I don't want to nod off drivin' your daddy's Jag."

Throwing back the layers of fluffy bedding, Greg smiled, "That's how you know you know my Dad's forgiven you. That car is his baby."

"Whoa." Nick sunk into the cloud that was supposedly a mattress.

"I told you." Greg rested on his side facing his partner. "I think she went the ultra-deluxe route hoping it would entice us to visit more often."

"Hell, I want to move in here."

"We may have to if the Sheriff cans us."

"He won't." Nick rolled onto his side. "Grissom will say the usual 'if they go, I walk' and we'll be back to work on Monday night."

"Yeah." Greg sighed, "So we'll have to make the most of tomorrow and Sunday."

"You know what I'd like to do…" After snuggling closer, he continued, "Once we've made an appearance at the party, I'd like to take that joy ride up the coast highway I mentioned and then find the perfect place to watch the sunrise with you in my arms." Instead of waiting for a reply, he lingered a kiss over the smile in front of him.

"Mmm," Greg dreamily replied once his lips were free.

"Do you like that idea?"

"I love that idea."

"And I love you."

Yanking his amorous partner on top of him, Greg teased, "I see you're already in a California state of mind, Tex." He always turned into a different person when they crossed the border. "Romantic and relaxed."

"It's easy to relax in this bed." The grateful man continued mingling his words with juicy kisses to random places on his partner's body. "I'm in a romantic mood because…you made me so happy…I swear, when you gave me Skippy…every ounce of tension from yesterday…and the last eight months…melted away."

"I don't know." With a devilish laugh, Greg said, "I'm definitely feeling some inches of tension left in your body."

Lifting his mouth from Greg's chest, Nick smirked, "Happens like clockwork every time I get in a California state of mind. Are ya up for it?"

"Are you kidding?" Greg lunged for the nightstand drawer. "I have a conditioned Pavlovian urge for it every time we hit the state line." He laughed at their predictability. "As soon as we cross the border, you chill out. Once we're here, you get romantic, and when we fall into to bed, you have to top." Handing over a bottle he grinned, "You know that California Breeze scented stuff Catherine has blowing in her office?"

"Yeah."

"One sniff of that stuff and I start fantasizing about falling onto my back for you." Grinning wider, he crashed onto the pillows. "I can't focus on anything Cath's saying - she becomes one of those fuzzy Charlie Brown grown ups saying 'mwah mwah mwah' in the background."

While sensually exploring his partner's heating body with his hands and mouth, Nick rasped, "We'll have to ask our therapist to explain the California phenomena."

"I did."

"And?" he curiously asked while hastily removing Greg's briefs and flinging them across the room.

"Based on what I told her about you, she theorized that when you're overwhelmed with anxiety, you need to give up control in order to relax, but when you're relaxed, it's such an unnatural state, you have to control something to feel normal."

"Sounds about right," the control-freak snickered before swirling his tongue down the overly sensitive flesh of his lover's neck.

Squirming from tortuous pleasure, Greg giddily shared, "I was really easy for the Doc to figure out - it all boils down to my over-bearing parents never letting me do anything risky. I get a rush when I do something one or both of them don't approve of – like my job, but when I'm around them in California, I get an extra special rush from the thrill of them possibly catching me being a bad boy."

"So my biggest nightmare is a turn on for you?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty twisted, G."

"Did I kill the vibe?" It was an inside joke between them since Pittsburgh.

"No." Winking, Nick flipped open the bottle top. "It'll take more than hearin' about your squick to knock the wind out of my sails."

"I don't see any sails, but your mast is lookin' mighty fine." After laughing at his own lame joke, Greg asked, "Did you remember to lock the…" he gasped from the chill of the liquid and the pleasure of his partner's teasing touch. "Mmm…did you lock the door?"

Feeling relaxed enough to indulge in a little silliness, Nick replied, "Why? Are ya afraid someone is gonna catch you bein' bad?"

Enjoying the mental foreplay as much as the physical stoking of his body, Greg mischievously replied, "My parents think we're in here studying for finals. I'm taking Staci to the prom…they have no idea I like boys. If they open the door and see you..." Feeling and watching his partner's mouth slowly consume him, he panted, "If they…see you…mmm." When forming words became a challenge, he switched to moaning.

Nick abruptly retreated. "Maybe we should stop."

"No."

"Really?" In between the verbal play, he taunted his lover's aroused body with his tongue. "You're not worried your mom will walk in and catch me doing this?"

Loving every second of the torture, Greg snickered, "I can think of a few other things that would be worse."

"Me too." Nick flipped his kinky playmate on his stomach. "I bet Mom would lose her mind if she knew I was doin' this."

---

Watching Nick's mother imploding before her eyes, Connie pleaded, "I know what you're feeling. I was in your shoes ten years ago when Greg sat down with me and told me he was gay. Even though we had our suspicions, it was still shocking to hear the words and realize your little boy is on a different path than the one you wanted for him. I know I can't expect you to go from shocked to calm in five minutes, but I think if we make some Chamomile tea and sit down, I could calmly address your concerns and explain anything you don't understand. I know I felt much better once I spoke to another mother who could empathize and…"

"Tea? Are you crazy?" Jillian shouted as she cried, "What I need is for you to stop sayin' my son is…" She couldn't say the word. "You and your son have obviously influenced Nick and made him believe he's not normal."

Connie gingerly doled out another morsel of truth. "Greg didn't make your son gay. He was born that way and has been actively exploring his sexuality since he was a teenager who realized he wasn't attracted to girls."

"Save your liberal rhetoric for California. People aren't born gay. It's a choice. A decision made out of confusion or desperation." The idea of her son being born gay offended the conservative Christian mother on many levels. "I gave birth to a normal, healthy baby boy and my husband and I raised him right. There was nothin' wrong with him when he lived under my roof, so don't you dare insinuate he was attracted to boys while he was livin' here. Nicky may be temporarily confused, but he was and still is a red blooded American male who likes girls!"

---

"Did you hear that?" With Greg's ankles on his shoulders, Nick fiendishly delayed their merge at the last second. "I thought I heard a woman's voice."

"It was the cat shrieking," the overly-aroused lover blurted. "Keep going."

"I really think I should check the door."

"No!" Greg locked his feet around his partner's neck. "Just…."

"Just what?" While strategically bumping up against his mate, Nick demanded words, "What do you want me to do?"

---

"Give it to me!" Jillian lunged for the scrapbook. She was certain the ghastly woman was only showing her a few photos that had been purposely placed in the book to prop her filthy lies.

"Take your time, look at all the photos." Connie gladly handed over the book. "There are over 200 in there." Watching the stunned mother's eyes growing wider and wider, she empathetically said, "If you've not been around gay couples, it's perfectly normal to feel a little shocked by the sight of two men being affectionate with one another and kissing."

"Kissing?" The idea of Nick pressing his lips to another man's sent a wave of horrible shivers up her spine.

Connie flipped to the photo she snuck of the boys smooching in the pool. "They didn't know I had come home early and I snapped the picture before I busted them."

When she saw Greg cupping her son's face as he kissed him, Jillian's heart sank and her mind worked overtime to justify the repulsive photo. "With everything my boy has been through, I'm sure he was just confused and looking for comfort and security in all the wrong places. That's how these things happen – one man is vulnerable and another sees an opportunity to advance his agenda. It's quite obvious from these pictures that Greg is the aggressor and Nicky the victim of a devious manipulation."

---

"Slow down, cowboy!" Pressing his palms to his riled lover's chest, Greg prevented him from aggressively lunging forward for another probing kiss. "It's been a while, my legs aren't as flexible." He chuckled as he panted, "I don't want to pull a hamstring and have to walk funny in front of my grandparents."

Shaking his head, Nick playfully scolded, "You know better than to skip the important post-workout cool down and stretching phase."

"I kinda skipped the workout phase too." Staring at his absentee boyfriend of eight months, Greg said, "I get lazy when I don't have anyone to workout with…and when I know I won't be getting naked with anyone."

The urge to be closer greater than ever, Nick retreated and slid next to his partner. "Thanks for waitin'," he whispered, relieved that he hadn't been replaced by another boyfriend or a string of one-night stands.

"I almost didn't this time," Greg admitted, relieved to get the truth off his chest. "You know how I took the vacation time in July we had blocked for the honeymoon? That was my deadline. If our wedding day came and went without you running back to me, my plan was to come out here for the week and bend over for as many guys as it took to get over you once and for all." While he had casually been with a few guys after Pittsburgh, he had never felt enough trust or desire to let anyone else top him.

"What happened?"

"I came out here with three boxes of condoms ready to carry out the plan, but when I got here, Skippy had just been delivered from the breeder and one look at him and all I could think about was how much I still loved you. I spent the week bonding with our puppy instead of getting laid."

"Suddenly I love your gift of a puppy twice as much."

"I wouldn't have been able to go through with it anyway." Grinning, he turned his back on his lover. "We both know I've been hopelessly yours ever since you manipulated your way into my bed in Pittsburgh and ruined me."

---

"Nick is not a victim of my son's aggression," the overprotective mother tersely stated, switching from her role as comforter to defender of her son's innocence. "Since you're insinuating Greg forced Nick into a sexual relationship, I feel compelled to set the record straight. I don't want to be too graphic, because you're already in shock, but to put it very gently...my son was a 24 year old virgin until he went on a business trip with your very experienced 29 year old son. Greg was a consenting adult, so I would never accuse Nick of taking advantage of him, though I'll admit I was worried at first, because he was in a position of authority over my son at the time."

Hoping she misunderstood Connie's words, Jillian anxiously said, "You don't mean that Nicky has had…relations."

While feeling sorry for the panicked woman who was desperately trying to avoid an unwanted reality, Connie saw no benefit in delaying the inevitable truth. "Nick and Greg are healthy young men in a loving, monogamous adult relationship. They share a home and a bed and, yes – they do all the normal things young couples in love do."

"Normal? I beg to differ." Her entire body shaking, Jillian said, "As a Christian woman how can you say what two men do is normal? There's nothin' normal about it. A man and a woman were built to make love to each other and make babies together. They fit together naturally, the way God intended."

"As a mother who lost three babies, and a Christian woman who believes no one is worthless and everyone should be loved, I have a real problem with the number of babies someone creates being the ultimate barometer of worth."

"Leavin' the baby makin' out of the equation, changes nothin'!" Jillian frantically wiped her tears as the devastating truth sunk in. "What a man can do to another man is a pointless act of unnatural self-gratification, no different than if he were to satisfy his lust with a dog or a sheep or a hole in the wall."

"What?" Connie never believed the revelation would go well, but didn't expect to hear her son's love life being compared to bestiality. "We're talking about two human beings in love."

Terrified that her youngest child was doomed to hell for eternity, Jillian sobbed, "You can call it whatever you want and you can continue to brainwash yourself with that scrapbook full of happy pictures, but at the end of the day it is what it is – an abomination, an impure act of uncontrollable lust that has nothing to do with the purity of love."

Thinking back to her disturbing observations of Maci, Connie said, "I think sex is unnatural and abnormal when a self-centered husband strong-arms his wife into bed even though she's pleaded with him to wait another month before getting her pregnant with their sixth child in seven years, but I think it's perfectly natural and normal for two committed adults to physically express their love and burning passion for one another when the mood is mutual."

---

Their bodies pressed together, moving in perfect unison, Nick reached over Greg's shoulder for a kiss. "I can't get enough of you," he declared, after the frenetic kiss left him hungry for more.

"Maybe you should try a little harder," Greg urged and then groaned with approval when his lover gripped his hips, and yanked him onto his hands and knees. "I need…" The rest of the words came out of his mouth as groans as he submissively lowered his head to the mattress.

Sliding his hands until they gripped his partner's wrists, Nick pressed them into the billowy bedding. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you." Greg's unfiltered thoughts flew out of his mouth as hips bucked to meet every stroke. "I need you to promise you'll never leave me and fucking mean it for a change. Is that too much to ask for?"

Nick leaned forward and rasped in his partner's ear, "I was expectin' somethin' like, 'faster', 'harder', or 'pull my hair'."

Greg panted, "That would be good too."

Winding his fingers through a patch of soulmate's locks, Nick gently tugged and upped the pace. "I won't leave."

"If you do…I swear I'll find someone else."

"You'd let someone else do this to you?"

"I'd let the first guy who looked at me," Greg answered while fighting off the urge to let go.

"You wouldn't go through with it."

"I would, and when he was done, I'd let his friends in on the action."

Fueled by hypothetical jealousy, Nick pushed beyond his usual intensity. "You'd be thinkin' of me the whole time."

"No." Titillated by the resulting possessiveness, Greg added more fuel to the fire. "I'd be forgetting you the whole time."

"You couldn't forget me if you tried."

"I could if I wanted to."

Growling in his lover's ear, Nick confidently said, "You could fall into bed with a hundred different guys, but it would always be me when you close your eyes." He matched his next words to his movement. "It would always be me behind you…inside you."

Glancing over his shoulder, Greg boldly replied, "One guy and I'd forget your name."

"Bullshit." Feeling unusually aggressive, Nick pressed his lover to the mattress. "A hundred guys later and you'd still be moanin' my name."

"No."

Twisting his fingers deeper into Greg's hair, Nick smirked. "Look at you. You're dyin' to moan it right now."

Exhilarated by the uncharacteristic gruffness, Greg bit his lip not to scream the name of the man rocking his world.

"Right now. I wanna hear it."

"No."

"Did it sound like I was askin' you a question?"

"Nick," he cried out, giving into the pleasure of submission.

"Is that the name you'd shout every time?"

"Yesss."

While his lover squirmed beneath him and mingled his name with declarations and expletives, Nick basked in the desperately needed validation. "Who do you need?"

His eyes clamped shut, Greg breathlessly whimpered, "You…only you." Knowing he was on the brink, he buried his face in a pillow so his grandmother wouldn't hear him exploding.

To push his soulmate over the edge, Nick murmured in his ear, "I promise I'll never leave you."

"I don't want to hear anymore. You need to go." Tears streaming down her face, Jillian stood in the open door way. "I need to call my husband and figure out what we're going to do about this heartbreaking situation."

Heartbreaking it is." Connie reclaimed her scrapbook with pride. "You can tell your husband that there's more than enough room for Nick in my family if he no longer has a place here."

"It's my son's place in eternity that I'm concerned about. As a mother, I can't believe you aren't." Fearing the worst for her boy, Jillian cried, "A mother who truly loves her son would worry more about his salvation than his happiness on Earth. This life is temporary, but the next is endless."

"This life is temporary." Connie rolled her eyes as she strolled out the door. "I'm sure that's what Maci tells herself to get through every exhausting day of her indentured servitude; I mean her marriage to your 'normal' son."

"There is nothing wrong with Bill wantin' a son and Maci was just unusually tired today, that's all."

"Didn't you hear her? The woman thinks marriage and slavery are the same thing! That's more than being tired in my book." As she reached her car, Connie yelled, "Hey, how much would it tick off Billy if Nick produces the first male Stokes baby with a surrogate? Because if Nick and Greg want to have a child, I will literally pay to see that happen! Did you know that when two guys go the unnatural IVF route with a surrogate, they can select the sex of the baby? How do you like them apples, Jill?" When the door slammed shut, she yelled, "To keep up, maybe Billy should selectively pick a few more verses to follow from the Bible and justify polygamy to increase his odds and his worth!"

"Unbelievable!" Once she was in her rental car, Connie steadied herself with a few deep breaths. "She's wrong and I'm right!" She quickly sought to validate her feeling of normalcy by talking to her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Greg said they were hardcore conservatives, but I had no idea. Oh my God! Greg!" Once the adrenaline of arguing with Jillian wore off, she realized she was in deep shit for coming to Dallas and outing Nick. The fact that she had a last minute change of heart and the outing happened accidentally wasn't going to make an ounce of difference. For better or worse, Nick's life had just changed forever. "What should I do? What should I do? Think! Think!" The poor boy didn't have a clue that his world was about to come crashing down around him thanks to her meddling. "What should I do, dammit?" she asked her equally frantic reflection. Should she call Nick and warn him? Should she fly back home and try to explain she had good intentions? Only one thing was certain. "Greg is never going to speak to me again."

When his ability to coherently speak finally returned, Greg lifted his face from the pillow he had used to muffle his explosive reaction. "Was I just unusually horny or was that like the hottest sex we've ever had?"

Collapsing onto his back, Nick replied, "That was definitely the hottest sex we've ever had."

"I've decided to take a sabbatical from topping."

"Change is good," Nick laughed.

"I think we should make another change."

"Yeah?"

"I think we should sell the house and move to California."

"Sure, why not."

Greg locked his eyes on his carefree partner. "I'm serious. We're happy here."

"Of course we are!" Nick chuckled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's not the locale, G. We don't have to work when we're here. We get to have as much food, fun, and great sex as we can handle. Who wouldn't be happy under those conditions?"

"No, that's only part of it." Greg shook his head. "We're happier here because we're living like a normal couple. We don't have to pretend we're not together, we don't have to flirt with women to throw people off, and we don't have to hide anything in front of my family. It feels good here, because it feels real. And yeah, I know we're wearing rings and we said we weren't going to take them off before work on Monday, but that's never gonna happen. Is it?"

"No, we'll probably chicken out right as we're about to leave the house for our shift." Nick corrected his answer. "I'll chicken out."

"And we'll go back to being a dirty little secret." Greg sighed. "In Vegas and Dallas, Skippy won't be our dog, he'll be yours. That totally sucks! In California, he's our dog."

"G..."

"Seriously! It's like California is our freaking Brokeback Mountain." He grumbled, "I guess I should be happy that we don't have to live in a tent and freeze our asses off every time we sneak off together."

"G! Wouldya shut up and listen to me." Nick clamped his hand over his partner's mouth to increase the odds of compliance. "I have an idea. Let's hop in the shower, get dressed, and fly to Dallas tonight."

"What?"

"I don't want to wait, and it makes sense to do it now when your Dad can watch Skippy for us. And if I can come out to my parents, believe me, I won't chicken out at work on Monday night…if I'm still breathin' by Monday night."

"You're serious?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm serious. I can't think of a better way to prove I'm serious about stickin' things out this time." Nick lunged for his cell phone from the nightstand. "I'll call Southwest for plane tickets right now."

***

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