nickngreg | (no subject)

Well, I figure it's about time to update Wolverine Blues, haha. Sorry it took so long, with working over the holidays, my mad-fic-writing-skillz had been temporarily sapped by the vampiric monster that is the retail ass-end of Christmas. Please comment, it inspires me to write more! :D

Beta -

_slytherin_girl
Credit -

geekwriter143 (For Mrs. Palmbach)
Rating: NC17
Genre: romance, drama
Pairings: Nick/Greg
Warnings: Violence, coarse language and/or graphic sexual content
Crossover: X Men/CSI
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters (although owning Nick and Greg would be nice *s* p.s. - I‘m sorry, I can’t shave Nick‘s head - I know it’s season five, but…)

(Ten - Capture)

She slept fitfully, dreaming about… before.

She closed her eyes when the bombers roared overhead, steeling herself against the impact of their cargo. Blood stained the front of her uniform, and when the noise subsided, she looked around to see who needed to be tended to next. Adjusting the white cap on her head, she sat down next to a particularly badly burned man. He lay on his side, drifting in and out of consciousness. He moaned and stirred, and she sat down beside him, putting a comforting hand on the side of his face. She knew his whole story without him having to say a word. The extensive cuts and burns on his face and back were from a proximity mine that had been placed in a deserted home. The mine had half-exploded, and instead of killing the soldier outright, it had blown him through a window and into the street. He’d regained soupy semi-consciousness long enough to tell his regiment that Weapon X had gotten through. Weapon X ? She wondered. Olivia had a good idea what happened around the field hospital, and what went on outside of it. Her gift of touch gave her a knowledge that most of the nurses were without. Weapon X was something she was entirely unfamiliar with.

“Hi,” she said, gently. “I’m Nurse Huntington. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.” She leaned over him to read his dogtags: Gregory S.H. Sanders. No, that couldn’t be right, Greg was that nice forensics boy. When she looked again, the name was different, but she couldn’t read it.

Then, as is normal in dreams, she was suddenly somewhere else. Olivia and Logan stood facing each other outside of a huge white building, stood in the snow, stood waiting for their destinies to change.

Awake.

From the moment she opened her eyes, Karma realized she was in trouble. Her head pounded and her eyes hurt; her stomach lurched and her hands burned. Panic flared through her when she realized that she’d been restrained, and heavily. Through the plain hospital-green wall, she could hear Logan’s voice, raised in fury. Karma breathed deep, trying not to vomit. How did I get here?

(Eleven - The News)

Nick peeled his eyes open, groaned and stretched.

“Did you sleep okay?” He looked over to see Greg sitting beside him with the sheets pooled around his hips, cross-legged with a cup of coffee in his hand. Nick smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I slept great.” The hand holding Greg’s coffee cup trembled minutely. The thick, just-woken-up Texas drawl, combined with the sleepy smile, almost made Greg want to toss the cup onto the floor and buck his favourite bronco. He took a deep breath and his hand steadied again.

“Good. I made coffee. Your cup’s right there.” He gestured at the table on Nick’s side of the bed. Already picking sides of the bed, Greggo? He thought to himself, and grinned.
“What time is it?” Nick scooted up in the bed and sat up.

“Just past six. I was going to turn the news on, if that’s okay.” Greg turned on the television and they both sat back in disbelief.

“ Earlier today, the Las Vegas PD arrested two suspects in the Mutant School murders ….” The shot cut away from the reporter and showed footage of the Charles Xavier School. Nick and Greg watched as Olivia was literally dragged out of the front doors by officers, her hair hanging in her face. A close-up shot revealed that she was blindfolded and her wrists were heavily shackled.

“What’s that on her hands?” Nick asked, pointing. Greg crawled down to the end of the bed and squinted at the TV.

“It looks like chemical burns. I can’t tell though, from just seeing it on a screen. Shh, they’re talking to someone.” The shot changed again to a stocky man with a beard and glasses. His name-graphic read “General William Stryker.”

“ We’ve managed to, thanks to CSI Conrad Ecklie, apprehend two dangerous mutants who are partially responsible for the deaths of at least nine of our elite organization….”
“Hey, isn’t that the guy who does the mutant raids?” Greg asked, just as Nick’s cellphone rang.

“Stokes.” He listened for a moment, then nodded, as if the caller could see him. “Yeah, I’ve seen the guy. I’m watching him on the news right now, as a matter of fact. Yeah. I’ll uh… call Greg and let him know. We’ll be there.” He snapped his phone closed. “That was Grissom. He wants us to come in early, Ecklie wants to talk to us.”

“Bastard. I hate that guy,” Greg grunted, and got out of bed. “From what we knew, they were defending themselves from these army guys. And now Ecklie goes behind our backs and totally makes us look like jackasses. Do you think someone who’s really guilty is just going to hang out and wait for someone to come and arrest them?” Nick shrugged and pulled his pants on.

“I have to stop by my place and get a change of clothes. I think it would be a little strange if we showed up together and I’m wearing the same clothes I had on when I left yesterday.” Greg laughed.

“Was that weird? This morning, I mean. Was it okay?” Nick smiled and kissed Greg.

“Yessir. And yes, it was weird. But in a good way. In the best way. I’ll see you at the lab.”