Title: What We Choose To Ignore
By: Ericalynn
Fandom/Characters: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG
Prompt: #8-Denial on my table
Warning: angst, sequel to "The Lines We Never Cross" <- read first
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they belong to CBS.
Summary: He knew he should get up and get ready for work. He had cases to work, crime scenes to process, paperwork needing his attention, but the only thing that kept his interest was his pillow, an exotic scent, and a memory. So he pressed his face deeper, trying to ignore the painful pang of his heart . . .
The tears had long ago dried on his pillow, the minutes and hours had ticked by, but still he could not close his eyes. He stared blankly at the door that Warrick had walked out of hours before, hoping and praying that maybe, if he kept watching, he'd see Warrick come back through, maybe he'd change his mind and come back to where Nick knew he belonged. In his arms.
The alarm clock ticked down the minutes until it began to buzz, but still Nick did not move. He knew he should get up and get ready for work. He had cases to work, crime scenes to process, paperwork needing his attention, but the only thing that kept his interest was his pillow, an exotic scent, and a memory. So he pressed his face deeper, trying to ignore the painful pang of his heart, and sighed deeply, his eyes slipping closed for a moment.
His cell phone ringing woke him twenty minutes later. Hitting the snooze on the still buzzing alarm, he fumbled around for his phone without even picking his head off the pillow. ‘Grissom' blinked up at him from the display, and for a selfish, irrational moment he considered ignoring the call and crawling back under the covers. But as it always eventually happened, his good sense kicked in and he begrudging picked up.
"Stokes."
"Nick, I need you to come in early. Swing is backed up and they have a double homicide. I'm calling in Warrick as well. Can you meet him at the scene?"
Nick growled into the pillow, not wanting to let his boss in on his frustration. There was no niceties, no beating around the bush. Just ‘can you go to this scene with your best friend, the guy you just slept with, the guy that broke your fucking heart?'. He closed his eyes and sighed again, only catching himself after he'd already done it.
"Nick? Is there a problem?"
"Nah. Everything's fine, Griss. Yeah, I'll meet Warrick at the scene." Nick rubbed his face as he listened to Grissom ramble off the directions and the pertinent information. When he was done, Nick slammed the cell shut and tossed it, not watching or caring where it landed. He'd find it soon enough.
<<<<
Warrick snuck back into his house, quietly closing the door behind him. Toeing off his shoes, he dropped his bags by the table and snuck into the bedroom where Tina was already curled up underneath the blankets fast asleep. He had ignored her three calls and her voicemails as he sat in the park. He'd watched the sunrise and tried to sort out everything in his head. Like what had sparked the tension and how he and his best friend had ended up against he wall making out like randy teenagers.
But more importantly, he tried to work out the meaning of that last look Nick had cast him as he walked out the door. If he hadn't been glancing back he never would have caught it. It was an expression of loss and almost . . . hurt. That look had kept Warrick sitting in his truck in Nick's driveway trying to convince himself to go one way or another. He tried to tell himself that Nick was just his friend and that what had happened was born out of tension and frustration rather than lust and attraction. But the lie left a bitter taste in his mouth. And after two hours of sitting in Nick's driveway staring at the ring on his hand, he pulled onto the street and drove away.
He'd seen the note Tina had left on the counter for him. ‘I didn't know you were working late so I left your plate in the fridge. Talk to ya in the morning. xoxo.' But even through message written with pen and paper he could feel her anger towards him. There would be no talking this morning. It'd be another fight. Where had he been? Why hadn't he called? So he ignored it along with his dinner plate, he wasn't hungry anyhow. And he climbed into bed, he and Tina staying on separate sides, the canyon between them ever growing.
His phone woke him a few hours later. Grissom; the only person that could get away with calling him after he'd only gone to bed three hours before. Well, one of the few people. He quickly silenced the ring so as not to wake Tina and stumbled out into the darkened living room.
"Brown."
"Warrick, I need you to come in and help out Swing. They're tapped out and a double just came in. Sorry to call you in so early, but I know I can count on you."
What could he say to that? ‘No, sorry Griss I can't come in. I had a shitty night after making one of the best- no worst mistakes of my life.' Sighing, Warrick ran a hand through his hair and rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. He wasn't particularly hungry, but it looked like it was gonna be a long night and this may be the only chance he got.
"Yeah, it's cool. Am I solo on this?" Warrick briefly considered the plate Tina had made him but quickly shoved it aside, opting for his left over Chinese from the other night when Nick- not the thing to think about now he decided.
"No. I already called Nick. He'll meet you at the scene."
Warrick's stomach dropped. Nick? Couldn't it have been someone, anyone else? He cleared his throat long enough to ask for the address and end the conversation. He put the phone down on the counter next to the pad of paper he'd written his notes on and tried to clear his mind. His stomach turned, though whether it was at the thought of food or the inevitable upcoming confrontation, he knew not. Tossing the Chinese container in the trash just to be safe, Warrick headed for the bedroom to get dressed telling himself that it wasn't guilt he was suddenly feeling.
<<<<
After twenty more minutes and a lot of thinking, Nick had almost talked himself out of his misery. Almost being the operative word. Almost because every time he thought of Warrick he remembered how those hands felt on him, how the body felt beneath him, how much he loved-. Nick abruptly stopped that train of thought. Sighing into the pillow Nick decided it would be easier to talk himself into getting up and getting a shower rather than talking himself out of love.
So after another ten minutes wasted, Nick pulled his tired, aching body out of his bed and stumbled for the shower. It wasn't as hot as he'd like, definitely not hot enough to erase the feeling of Warrick's hands running up his sides or to wash away the scent that clung heavily to his skin. So rather than try the impossible and waste more time, Nick stood under the spray, allowing it to cascade over him for a few minutes, just long enough to wash away yesterday's grime and sweat.
Climbing out of the shower, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and cringed. There, just underneath his collarbone, was a bruising patch of skin. He tried to deny how it came to be, thinking it was simply from when Warrick pushed him against the wall. It was easier, less painful to think it was born out of anger rather than in the midst of love. Only it wasn't love, it was lust or some weird perverted version of it. His fingers brushed over the mark for a moment before a few more tears leaked out his eyes. Hastily wiping them away, Nick stalked back into his room.
After rummaging around through his closet for some clean clothes, he searched for his phone. He found it in the hallway. Snatching it up along with his car keys from the counter and his spare gun from the cabinet, he placed them by his kit next to the door. The thought of food crossed his mind as he knew tonight would be non-stop. Throwing open the refrigerator revealed a dismal sight. A near empty milk carton, a few plates of long overdue leftovers, and a carton of Chinese from a few nights ago. Sighing at the sight, Nick decided to grab something on the way and headed out the door.
<<<<
He was just entering the hotel when he saw Nick's truck pull up. Part of him wanted to wait for his friend and keep things as they had always been. But another part of him, the part that won over after seeing his friend, told him to go on ahead and avoid any possibility of a confrontation. Nick was too professional to say anything while in the presence of so many people. He also knew, however, that if they were in the parking lot, alone, that could spell disaster.
So it was with quick feet that he entered the hotel and ran up the stairs to the third floor. All the while Nick's face kept running over in his head. This time it wasn't that last look as he'd left Nick's house. No, this was what he looked like now. Nick looked horrible, even from just the brief glimpse he'd caught. His face was drawn and pale, dark circles hovering under bloodshot eyes. He'd wager almost anything that Nick hadn't caught a wink of sleep since he'd left. The laugh lines around his mouth and eyes were more pronounced and his brow was turned down in an almost frown. Nick was thinking, that much he knew. Thinking hard and trying to hide any emotions bubbling under the surface.
He'd barely made it up to the detective before the elevator dinged and Nick walked out. The knot in his stomach tightened tenfold as he recognized something else on Nick's face. He'd been crying recently. It wasn't something just anyone could pick out, just someone who'd been there and seen the man in his most desperate hours. The slightly glassy look and dark, clumped lashes gave him away. That was if one couldn't recognize the blaring look of despair barely concealed in those dark depths.
Warrick swallowed hard and turned back to the detective, trying hard to focus on the man's words. Did he want to wait for his partner? No. They'd catch up later, he was the primary. At least that's what he told them, and they didn't seem to care much. So after receiving the most pertinent information, he turned to head into the room, not missing the hurt expression on Nick's face at the lack of recognition. It killed him to keep a straight face and move on, but its what he had to do for the sake of them both.
<<<<
When he arrived at the scene, Warrick was already there, talking with a few cops and the Swing shift detective. If Warrick noticed his presence, he never acknowledged it out right. He just thanked the detective and headed into the hotel room as Nick approached. And he never said a word either, not until Nick cleared his throat.
"Oh hey Nick." There was no emotion detectable in those words. No longing like Nick wished. No regret or anger like he'd feared. Just a blank tone masked with a false smile and friendly words. "I didn't know you were here yet. You wanna take photos while I swab?"
"Sure." That was the only word he could force out. Instead, he focused on his work and for a while it worked. It worked that is until Warrick forgot himself and came up behind Nick, placing his hand on Nick's shoulder. The urge to melt into that touch was near undeniable, but instead Nick feigned surprise and abruptly pulled away. He knew Warrick noticed the delay, but he needed the distance to be able to control himself.
"Whoa, sorry. You startled me. I didn't hear you." Nick's smile quivered just the slightest bit as he battled down emotions. Why was he so high-strung, so out of balance?
"Yeah, sorry about that." Warrick eyed him carefully for a moment, then cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I just said I think we're done here. Do you wanna grab a bite to eat before our regular shift starts? We have about an hour."
He should have said no, he had a million excuses of why he couldn't. ‘I have some cases that need my attention.' ‘I have a huge pile of paperwork to file.' ‘I'm gonna catch up on a few z's before shift.' But the words that came out of his mouth were far different. "Sure. Let me just pack up my kit. I'll meet you at the diner."
<<<<
The meal wasn't as awkward as he thought it might be, but it still wasn't filled with their usual banter Warrick noticed. Nick rarely met his gaze, and when he did there was some mysterious emotion just hovering beyond his reach. It was when he caught a glimpse of that look that his stomach started to twist and turn. He tried to tell himself that it was that Chinese he'd eaten this morning, only the carton was lying in the kitchen garbage can untouched.
Nick shoved the food around his plate, not able to force it down his throat. He'd barely gotten himself under control in the car and he was barely holding the mask in place. He could feel Warrick's piercing gaze on him, could feel those eyes boring into his, but he could never hold the gaze for long, fearing what Warrick would see. Every once and a while he thought he could see a brief flash of sorrow, guilt maybe, even a hint of love and concern. But they never stayed long enough for him to be certain.
Abruptly he pushed his plate aside and stood up, making an excuse of needing to get back to the lab. He tossed a few bills down on the table to cover his part of the tab, grabbed his coat and started to head for the door. But something gave him pause. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Warrick.
The look Nick gave him wasn't long enough for him to read all those storming emotions, but he did catch a few of them. Then Nick was out the door and he was left there, lost. He pushed his plate aside, no longer able to deny the aching of his stomach, trying to tell himself it was indigestion from the food rather than guilt. And even though he knew the truth, knew just what had to happen, he denied it a little longer. He denied it because of a promise of commitment and a little gold band
