Title: Cloud Illusions
By: Caroline Crane
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Nick/Greg (duh)
Rating: PG
Summary: Greg explains the truth about Utopian societies. Part of the Pancakeverse, naturally. Also post-ep for 9x20, so spoilers for last night's episode.
A/N: This is completely self-indulgent, I know. I am totally okay with that.

Usually Greg's the first one out of bed. He has a theory that he's not always the first to wake up, but Nick would rather pretend he's still asleep until Greg gets up and makes the coffee. Which he mostly doesn't mind, because the truth is he prefers his own coffee to anyone else's just as much as Nick does. Nick's getting better at making it, granted, but somehow it just tastes a little better when Greg's the one in charge of the French press.

This morning when he rolls over Nick's side of the bed is already empty. For awhile Greg just stares at the empty pillow, letting the navy blue of the pillowcase blur in and out of his vision for awhile before he finally wakes up fully. He reaches his arms out for a satisfying stretch, taking advantage of the extra space and letting his arm rest against the empty pillow for a minute. Not that he misses sleeping alone; there's not a single thing he misses about life before Nick, not his apartment or his freedom or even having first dibs on all the hot water. He doesn't miss not having to worry about anybody besides himself, because even before they were an on-again/off-again thing, he worried about Nick all the time. It was hard not to when Nick was always trying to get himself killed, and at least these days when Nick plays the hero and gets himself shot at or something, Greg gets to touch to make sure everything's still where it's supposed to be.

He smiles at the thought and kicks the covers back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through his hair. By the time Greg makes it out to the kitchen he can hear the TV going in the living room, a low, steady murmur that he can't quite make out. Instead of following the sound he takes a sharp left into the kitchen, drawn in by the aroma of recently brewed coffee. He pours himself a cup and takes a second to breathe in the scent of expensive caffeine, then he braces himself and takes a sip. It's...not bad, actually. Pretty good, if he's being objective, which is tough for him when it comes to coffee. But it means Nick's been paying attention, which means he cares enough to want to get it right. Greg smiles down at his cup and takes another sip, then he pads across the kitchen floor in search of Nick.

When he reaches the living room he expects to find Nick watching the news, or maybe Sports Center. Instead he's got his feet propped on the coffee table, a mug of perfectly good coffee forgotten on a coaster, and the dog curled up at his side as he frowns at the image on the screen.

"You're watching that again?" Greg says, rolling his eyes at the familiar scene. "Don't tell me you're going to start dressing up and going to conventions with Hodges."

"No," Nick answers, scowling up at him as though Greg's the one wasting the morning watching the same lame episode of Astro Quest he's already seen three times. "I don't even like it. I just can't stop thinking about what that guy said."

Greg lets out a sigh and sets his own coffee down, reaching out to scratch Lucky's head absently when the dog jumps off the couch to greet him. "Who, the bartender? Nick, come on."

"No, he's right. This show is about creating a more perfect future. No war, no conflict. It's supposed to be ideal, right? So why do I just think it's cheesy?"

"First of all," Greg says, planting a knee on the couch next to Nick's thigh and leaning over him to grab the remote and shut off the DVD, "it is cheesy. It's 70s sci-fi, they practically invented cheesy. And second," he adds, planting his other knee on the other side of Nick's lap, "it's not about a perfect future. It's about an imperialist society applying their own morality to every culture they encounter. It's Manifest Destiny all over again. Colonialism in space. Call it whatever you want, your bartender's the one who should be taking a closer look at this show, not you."

Nick's hands land on his hips, fingers digging in just a little and Greg grins and slides his arms around Nick's neck. "He's not my bartender."

"Oh, yeah?" Greg says, raising an eyebrow when a hand slides up his back, fingers tracing warm patterns against his skin.

"Yeah. I don't need some closet sci-fi geek. I've already got a science geek," Nick says, smiling at his own joke and Greg doesn't bother checking the urge to roll his eyes.

"Don't forget bestselling author."

"Bestselling? Something you forgot to tell me?"

"Well, not yet," Greg concedes, shifting just enough to get Nick's attention. When the hand that's still resting on his hip digs in a little harder and he smiles and slides his hands across Nick's shoulders and down the front of his shirt. "But it's just a matter of time. My book's a lot better than your new favorite show, anyway, and that's a classic in its genre."

"You sure know a lot about it for someone who thinks it's so bad."

Greg shrugs and shifts again, and when he hears Nick's breath catch in his throat he does it a third time. "I was in the chess club in high school. Some of those guys were pretty into it."

Nick's hand pauses in the center of his back, pressing just hard enough for Greg to take the hint and lean in closer. Their mouths are just a few inches apart, and Greg's pretty sure they're done with the conversation. He hopes so, anyway, because he's not sure how much more of that show he can take.

"So if it's not about a perfect society why do people love the show so much?"

Okay, maybe not. Greg swallows a sigh and closes his eyes for a second, wondering not for the first time just exactly how hard it would be to track down this war hero bartender and make him pay for the amount of time Greg's spent watching Astro Quest in the past week.

"Are you kidding? They just want to fantasize about traveling through space and meeting hot chicks in silver bikinis who won't shoot them down," he says when he opens his eyes again, and when Nick laughs he can't help smiling. "I mean, I understand if you want to fantasize about girls in silver bikinis, but..."

"Shut up," Nick says, finally -- finally -- closing the gap between them, and for once, Greg's more than happy to do as he's told.