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Jan. 3rd, 2007 11:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nickngregTitle: Before He Cheats
Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas
Characters: Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes
Prompt: #003. Angry for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
100moods
Word Count: 1,193
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: slight violence, slight spoiler for Rashomama.
Summary: Greg had already had his suspicions. They just needed the proof.
Author’s Notes: Based off the song Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
it_glitters, because it’s a plot on a_little_murder that’ll never happen and dyinganglfallen for first introducing me to the song.
Greg wasn’t an idiot. He’d heard the whispers, caught the glances. He’d guessed a while ago that Nick was cheating on him. There were too many broken promises in just the past couple of weeks. That wasn’t even taking into account all the times Nick came back to him and made Greg feel shallow for doing so.
It was the waiting that always got to Greg. Waiting at home, by the phone, for phone calls that never came and he was getting sick of that. That’s why he’d gone out tonight. He needed to get away from the phone, to prove to himself, and Nick, that Greg Sanders was fine on his own.
As he drove, Greg tried to think of where he wanted to go. Common sense said he probably should call Archie and ask if he could come over, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go into that household.
It was Nick’s truck in a passing parking lot that caught his eye. He quickly turned into the parking lot and as he parked, he wasn’t surprised to realize he was standing in the parking lot for a country bar. Typical Nicky Stokes right there.
Standing on tiptoes, Greg glanced into the driver’s window of Nick’s truck. The interior looked the same as it always did, but unless Nick had suddenly started wearing ladies’ clothing, that denim jacket was not his. Greg’s eyes narrowed at the sight, and then looked toward the door. He wouldn’t be jealous if he had no reason to be. Besides, one of Nick’s sisters could be in town. It wasn’t like Nick told him when family came in.
Greg took a deep breath as he moved to the door. He didn’t even have to open the door. A couple exiting, and laughing at some private joke, nodded to him as they left and he gave them an almost grimacing smile as he entered the bar. He stood in the entranceway, looking around at the occupants. It didn’t take him long to see Nick, not with the bleached-blonde he was playing tongue hockey with.
He gritted his teeth, and calmly walked over by them. There was no denying that there was anything innocent about that kiss, nor did it break off as Greg took Nick’s keys from a nearby table. The keychain he’d gotten Nick from the last time he went to California bit into his palm as he crossed the room once more, heading for the door. He knew what he wanted to do.
Feeling like he was detached from his own body by the hurt of finding out his suspicions were right, Greg headed back to his Jetta and the innocent truck – Nick’s truck – next to it. Months of practice brought Greg’s hand up as he unlocked the truck so it wouldn’t go off before he was done.
Greg took a step back, trying to decide where he wanted to begin. It was obvious that he meant nothing to the Texan, and that hurt, but Nick’s truck meant the world to the man. He knew that anything he did to the truck would give Nick a message he wanted him to have.
After a moment’s consideration, he approached the truck and dug his keys against the side of the truck, ruining the new paint job Nick had just gotten on it. Greg started from one tail light, up the side to the headlights, across the hood, and down the other side. He took a step back to survey the damage and glanced toward the bar. He could just picture Nick inside, promising that little blond the world, and like the fool Greg himself had been, she was probably buying it.
His lip curled in a snarl, and he opened the driver’s side door, climbing in. He remembered that Nick had a knife in the truck – it was from some hunting trip they’d gone on the last time Nick and Greg had gone to visit the Stokes ranch – and it took a couple seconds for Greg to find it. It barely took two minutes for him to carve his name into the leather seats that Nick had wanted so badly after it had been repainted from when it had been stolen. Greg leaned back against the dashboard, admiring his handiwork as he slid the knife back in its holster.
The sound of the door opening caught Greg’s attention and he turned to look, watching more people walk outside. He climbed out of the truck and wondered what Nick and his new little tramp were doing. Nick was probably showing her how to play pool. Greg played the date that Nick had taken him out to play pool in his mind as he opened up the trunk of his Jetta. It had been their second one, and had always been one of Greg’s favorites.
There was a bat in Greg’s trunk; left over from a baseball game the lab had had months ago. Technically, it was Nick’s bat because Greg had never been a fan of sports, but he still grabbed it out, testing the weight.
The first swing took out the driver’s side mirror. The second one took out the driver’s side windows. Greg heard murmuring from the door and as he moved to the front of the truck, he saw that people were leaving the bar, and pointing in his direction, but he no longer cared as he swung again, taking out first the right, then the left headlight. As he moved to the passenger side to take out the windows and side window on that side, he reviewed what he’d seen as a CSI. At bars, people tended to not immediately alert the police when they saw damage happening. They always enjoyed the free show, and they didn’t even know what he was pissed about. A few more swings of the bat took out the taillights, the bumpers, and both the front and back windshields; and Greg was sure that in one place, there was a dent in the frame of the truck.
He took a step back, and surveyed the truck. Something seemed to be missing and suddenly, it dawned on Greg. He leaned the bat against the broken front bumper and opened the passenger side door, grabbing the knife once more. Four slashes later and there was no way in hell Nick and the tramp were leaving in Nick’s precious truck.
Greg stashed the knife back to where he’d initially gotten it, locked the doors once more, and returned the bat to his trunk. He wandered back into the club, whistling cheerfully to himself as he headed back to where Nick and the new girl were now sitting. The girl was curled up in Nick’s lap, her side against his chest, and Nick stared up at Greg. Greg twirled the keys once and reached out to drop them in the beer mug sitting in front of Nick, then turned and walked back out, aware of Nick’s eyes on his back.
He grinned as he surveyed the damage once more as he climbed into his car. Too bad he’d miss Nick’s reaction.
Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas
Characters: Greg Sanders, Nick Stokes
Prompt: #003. Angry for
100moodsWord Count: 1,193
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: slight violence, slight spoiler for Rashomama.
Summary: Greg had already had his suspicions. They just needed the proof.
Author’s Notes: Based off the song Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood. For
it_glitters, because it’s a plot on a_little_murder that’ll never happen and dyinganglfallen for first introducing me to the song.Greg wasn’t an idiot. He’d heard the whispers, caught the glances. He’d guessed a while ago that Nick was cheating on him. There were too many broken promises in just the past couple of weeks. That wasn’t even taking into account all the times Nick came back to him and made Greg feel shallow for doing so.
It was the waiting that always got to Greg. Waiting at home, by the phone, for phone calls that never came and he was getting sick of that. That’s why he’d gone out tonight. He needed to get away from the phone, to prove to himself, and Nick, that Greg Sanders was fine on his own.
As he drove, Greg tried to think of where he wanted to go. Common sense said he probably should call Archie and ask if he could come over, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go into that household.
It was Nick’s truck in a passing parking lot that caught his eye. He quickly turned into the parking lot and as he parked, he wasn’t surprised to realize he was standing in the parking lot for a country bar. Typical Nicky Stokes right there.
Standing on tiptoes, Greg glanced into the driver’s window of Nick’s truck. The interior looked the same as it always did, but unless Nick had suddenly started wearing ladies’ clothing, that denim jacket was not his. Greg’s eyes narrowed at the sight, and then looked toward the door. He wouldn’t be jealous if he had no reason to be. Besides, one of Nick’s sisters could be in town. It wasn’t like Nick told him when family came in.
Greg took a deep breath as he moved to the door. He didn’t even have to open the door. A couple exiting, and laughing at some private joke, nodded to him as they left and he gave them an almost grimacing smile as he entered the bar. He stood in the entranceway, looking around at the occupants. It didn’t take him long to see Nick, not with the bleached-blonde he was playing tongue hockey with.
He gritted his teeth, and calmly walked over by them. There was no denying that there was anything innocent about that kiss, nor did it break off as Greg took Nick’s keys from a nearby table. The keychain he’d gotten Nick from the last time he went to California bit into his palm as he crossed the room once more, heading for the door. He knew what he wanted to do.
Feeling like he was detached from his own body by the hurt of finding out his suspicions were right, Greg headed back to his Jetta and the innocent truck – Nick’s truck – next to it. Months of practice brought Greg’s hand up as he unlocked the truck so it wouldn’t go off before he was done.
Greg took a step back, trying to decide where he wanted to begin. It was obvious that he meant nothing to the Texan, and that hurt, but Nick’s truck meant the world to the man. He knew that anything he did to the truck would give Nick a message he wanted him to have.
After a moment’s consideration, he approached the truck and dug his keys against the side of the truck, ruining the new paint job Nick had just gotten on it. Greg started from one tail light, up the side to the headlights, across the hood, and down the other side. He took a step back to survey the damage and glanced toward the bar. He could just picture Nick inside, promising that little blond the world, and like the fool Greg himself had been, she was probably buying it.
His lip curled in a snarl, and he opened the driver’s side door, climbing in. He remembered that Nick had a knife in the truck – it was from some hunting trip they’d gone on the last time Nick and Greg had gone to visit the Stokes ranch – and it took a couple seconds for Greg to find it. It barely took two minutes for him to carve his name into the leather seats that Nick had wanted so badly after it had been repainted from when it had been stolen. Greg leaned back against the dashboard, admiring his handiwork as he slid the knife back in its holster.
The sound of the door opening caught Greg’s attention and he turned to look, watching more people walk outside. He climbed out of the truck and wondered what Nick and his new little tramp were doing. Nick was probably showing her how to play pool. Greg played the date that Nick had taken him out to play pool in his mind as he opened up the trunk of his Jetta. It had been their second one, and had always been one of Greg’s favorites.
There was a bat in Greg’s trunk; left over from a baseball game the lab had had months ago. Technically, it was Nick’s bat because Greg had never been a fan of sports, but he still grabbed it out, testing the weight.
The first swing took out the driver’s side mirror. The second one took out the driver’s side windows. Greg heard murmuring from the door and as he moved to the front of the truck, he saw that people were leaving the bar, and pointing in his direction, but he no longer cared as he swung again, taking out first the right, then the left headlight. As he moved to the passenger side to take out the windows and side window on that side, he reviewed what he’d seen as a CSI. At bars, people tended to not immediately alert the police when they saw damage happening. They always enjoyed the free show, and they didn’t even know what he was pissed about. A few more swings of the bat took out the taillights, the bumpers, and both the front and back windshields; and Greg was sure that in one place, there was a dent in the frame of the truck.
He took a step back, and surveyed the truck. Something seemed to be missing and suddenly, it dawned on Greg. He leaned the bat against the broken front bumper and opened the passenger side door, grabbing the knife once more. Four slashes later and there was no way in hell Nick and the tramp were leaving in Nick’s precious truck.
Greg stashed the knife back to where he’d initially gotten it, locked the doors once more, and returned the bat to his trunk. He wandered back into the club, whistling cheerfully to himself as he headed back to where Nick and the new girl were now sitting. The girl was curled up in Nick’s lap, her side against his chest, and Nick stared up at Greg. Greg twirled the keys once and reached out to drop them in the beer mug sitting in front of Nick, then turned and walked back out, aware of Nick’s eyes on his back.
He grinned as he surveyed the damage once more as he climbed into his car. Too bad he’d miss Nick’s reaction.
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