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Nov. 4th, 2007 03:14 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
tanzensiemit.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
nickngregTitle: The Bag the Cat Came From
Author: tanzensiemit
Claim: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders
Fandom: CSI
Theme: #1 - 039 = Secret (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
csi50)
Rating: PG13 / WS / FRT+
Author's Notes: Watch out for the blatant Yo!Bling references and remember this question: Tina who? Other than that, it’s all good. {EDIT} Had a friend hit me on aim with the question of "Why Mass." Google is your friend! =D
Important: This is old and rough. I wrote this before I joined the comm. so I'm sharing now. xD It's craptastic but hey, I'm working my way through my table. ^^;
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Title: Something Found
Author:tanzensiemit
Claim: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders
Fandom: CSI
Theme: #1 - 023 = Sight (csi50)
Rating: PG / WS / FRA
Author's Notes: Written forfaerie_lullaby because she requested someone write anything to go along with a quote that had flitted through her head while she wrote on her Psyche thingie. *grins*
Important: This was actually written before Opacity but I'd forgotten to include it here. ^^;
------------------------------------------
Author: tanzensiemit
Claim: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders
Fandom: CSI
Theme: #1 - 039 = Secret (
csi50)Rating: PG13 / WS / FRT+
Author's Notes: Watch out for the blatant Yo!Bling references and remember this question: Tina who? Other than that, it’s all good. {EDIT} Had a friend hit me on aim with the question of "Why Mass." Google is your friend! =D
Important: This is old and rough. I wrote this before I joined the comm. so I'm sharing now. xD It's craptastic but hey, I'm working my way through my table. ^^;
Las Vegas truly lived up to its moniker, Sin City. Almost anything and everything you want could be found here. Booze, women, gambling, drugs; it was all here, except what a small majority of the population wanted. That’s why Nick found it so funny. He could head towards one of the few remaining legal brothels for a night of debauchery, hit up the back end for a score or two - cocaine, mostly, could be found the easiest - , or even head into, move down the strip for some fast times on the slot machines and pick up a show or two, then grab some random girl and get married in one of the few dozen Chapels after getting drunk off his ass.
If he was interested in any of those things then he’d be set. Unfortunately none of those vices applied to Nicolas Stokes, Level Three CSI who worked at the number two Crime Lab in the United States who just happened to be in a serious relationship with the lab‘s number one DNA analyst turned CSI - Greg Sanders. Nevada had clear views on same-sex unions after all. Which lead the Texan to his current predicament whereas he sat fingering a leather box in his slack’s pocket while trying to hold a coherent conversation with Catherine and Warrick at some little diner they’d chose to drag him and Greg, his not-so-secret boyfriend, off to for ‘lunch’.
“You know, Nick, at some point you’re going to have to join the conversation.” Catherine laughed as she leaned over the hard plastic tabletop to smack at the younger CSI with a menu. “Where are you anyways, because it’s sure as heck not Las Vegas.”
“What? No, I’m here.” The man in question replied quickly, straightening in his seat.
Warrick snickered beside him and shook his head. “Greg not letting you get enough sleep? Because if that’s the case then you might want to resort to the rolled up newspaper. Works on the Lindsey’s puppy pret…oomph!” A quick kick to the shin stopped him from completing the sentence but it didn’t knock the smile from his lips.
“Never a good idea to make fun of a person when they’re this close! Besides, I‘m more a cat person anyway.”
Nick agreed readily, “Yeah man, you ought to see how he sprawls out on the couch. I swear it’s like he doesn’t have any bones. And don’t get me started on the way he sleeps in those weirdest positions.”
“Aww, I think it’s adorable.” Catherine looped an arm around her bench partner’s neck and hugged at his head which Greg leaned into with a cheeky grin, enjoying every second of it. She brought her other hand along beneath the edge of the table and poked Greg in the side to warn him to behave before letting him go. “But really, you were off in Lala Land there for a minute. Everything okay?”
‘No, Cath, not really.’ “Yeah, everything’s cool. Just. . .thinking.”
“About what, man? It’s got to be something for you to keep ignoring our little party here.” Warrick splayed a hand to encompass the four of them.
“Massachusetts.” He’d blurted it out without meaning to and winced slightly at the round of confused stares he was getting in return. Those looks meant he’d have to explain because his friend’s weren’t the types to let something as ambiguous as that go. “My cousin lives in Boston has some sort of grand tour itinerary she wants to spring on us. Thought about talking to Greg about heading up there for a week if we can finagle Gris into letting us have the time off together.”
Now Catherine was a quick woman, Nick knew that, and so was Warrick but right now he didn‘t factor into things because the look Cath was throwing him across the table meant that she’d put two and two together and it was equaling a hell of a lot more than four, and he couldn‘t see Rick‘s face without turning his head. Nick didn’t know whether or not he liked that gleeful smile of hers or not right now and didn’t want to thinking about those pearly whites of his best friend shining at him if he’d made the same connections.
“I bet she does. Museums, the New England Aquarium, Cambridge is close by, and plenty of little ice cream shops and restaurants; sounds like a perfect vacation spot to me. Not to mention the nightlife would be a lot more sedate and cozy compared to here on the strip.”
Nick chanced a look at his boyfriend, who was still wearing a slightly bemused expression, then turned his attention back to the only woman of their little dining group. “Vegas is nice but way too busy for relaxing. I think a little time out of state would do us some good.”
Warrick must have figured it out as well because suddenly he was leaning close to Nick’s side and gave him a friendly nudge, chuckling. “Yeah, among other things. You talk to Grissom about this already or were you waiting for something?”
‘Where’s a waitress when you need a distraction?!’ “Er, I might have mentioned it to him the other day but I haven’t even talked to Greg about this man, so yeah I kinda am waiting.”
“But you’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this beforehand, right Nicky?” It was Greg’s turn to finally pop up into this discussion and when Nick whipped his head back towards him was rewarded with a contented smile and soft brown eyes. “I mean, you had to have since you’ve talked to your cousin and everything.”
Being caught out in a diner wasn’t exactly how he imagined this scene playing out but as he pulled the box out of his pocket and pushed it across the table towards the man he’d given anything and everything to, Nick couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t so bad. Especially when Greg opened it up right there on the table and left it in plain view, and sat there a little slack-jawed before snatching it up for a closer look to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“I-I, uh. . .” Greg tore his eyes away from the simple gold band to look across the table. “I think we should talk to Grissom. Tonight."
If he was interested in any of those things then he’d be set. Unfortunately none of those vices applied to Nicolas Stokes, Level Three CSI who worked at the number two Crime Lab in the United States who just happened to be in a serious relationship with the lab‘s number one DNA analyst turned CSI - Greg Sanders. Nevada had clear views on same-sex unions after all. Which lead the Texan to his current predicament whereas he sat fingering a leather box in his slack’s pocket while trying to hold a coherent conversation with Catherine and Warrick at some little diner they’d chose to drag him and Greg, his not-so-secret boyfriend, off to for ‘lunch’.
“You know, Nick, at some point you’re going to have to join the conversation.” Catherine laughed as she leaned over the hard plastic tabletop to smack at the younger CSI with a menu. “Where are you anyways, because it’s sure as heck not Las Vegas.”
“What? No, I’m here.” The man in question replied quickly, straightening in his seat.
Warrick snickered beside him and shook his head. “Greg not letting you get enough sleep? Because if that’s the case then you might want to resort to the rolled up newspaper. Works on the Lindsey’s puppy pret…oomph!” A quick kick to the shin stopped him from completing the sentence but it didn’t knock the smile from his lips.
“Never a good idea to make fun of a person when they’re this close! Besides, I‘m more a cat person anyway.”
Nick agreed readily, “Yeah man, you ought to see how he sprawls out on the couch. I swear it’s like he doesn’t have any bones. And don’t get me started on the way he sleeps in those weirdest positions.”
“Aww, I think it’s adorable.” Catherine looped an arm around her bench partner’s neck and hugged at his head which Greg leaned into with a cheeky grin, enjoying every second of it. She brought her other hand along beneath the edge of the table and poked Greg in the side to warn him to behave before letting him go. “But really, you were off in Lala Land there for a minute. Everything okay?”
‘No, Cath, not really.’ “Yeah, everything’s cool. Just. . .thinking.”
“About what, man? It’s got to be something for you to keep ignoring our little party here.” Warrick splayed a hand to encompass the four of them.
“Massachusetts.” He’d blurted it out without meaning to and winced slightly at the round of confused stares he was getting in return. Those looks meant he’d have to explain because his friend’s weren’t the types to let something as ambiguous as that go. “My cousin lives in Boston has some sort of grand tour itinerary she wants to spring on us. Thought about talking to Greg about heading up there for a week if we can finagle Gris into letting us have the time off together.”
Now Catherine was a quick woman, Nick knew that, and so was Warrick but right now he didn‘t factor into things because the look Cath was throwing him across the table meant that she’d put two and two together and it was equaling a hell of a lot more than four, and he couldn‘t see Rick‘s face without turning his head. Nick didn’t know whether or not he liked that gleeful smile of hers or not right now and didn’t want to thinking about those pearly whites of his best friend shining at him if he’d made the same connections.
“I bet she does. Museums, the New England Aquarium, Cambridge is close by, and plenty of little ice cream shops and restaurants; sounds like a perfect vacation spot to me. Not to mention the nightlife would be a lot more sedate and cozy compared to here on the strip.”
Nick chanced a look at his boyfriend, who was still wearing a slightly bemused expression, then turned his attention back to the only woman of their little dining group. “Vegas is nice but way too busy for relaxing. I think a little time out of state would do us some good.”
Warrick must have figured it out as well because suddenly he was leaning close to Nick’s side and gave him a friendly nudge, chuckling. “Yeah, among other things. You talk to Grissom about this already or were you waiting for something?”
‘Where’s a waitress when you need a distraction?!’ “Er, I might have mentioned it to him the other day but I haven’t even talked to Greg about this man, so yeah I kinda am waiting.”
“But you’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this beforehand, right Nicky?” It was Greg’s turn to finally pop up into this discussion and when Nick whipped his head back towards him was rewarded with a contented smile and soft brown eyes. “I mean, you had to have since you’ve talked to your cousin and everything.”
Being caught out in a diner wasn’t exactly how he imagined this scene playing out but as he pulled the box out of his pocket and pushed it across the table towards the man he’d given anything and everything to, Nick couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t so bad. Especially when Greg opened it up right there on the table and left it in plain view, and sat there a little slack-jawed before snatching it up for a closer look to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“I-I, uh. . .” Greg tore his eyes away from the simple gold band to look across the table. “I think we should talk to Grissom. Tonight."
------------------------------------------
Title: Something Found
Author:
tanzensiemitClaim: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders
Fandom: CSI
Theme: #1 - 023 = Sight (
csi50)Rating: PG / WS / FRA
Author's Notes: Written for
faerie_lullaby because she requested someone write anything to go along with a quote that had flitted through her head while she wrote on her Psyche thingie. *grins*Important: This was actually written before Opacity but I'd forgotten to include it here. ^^;
------------------------------------------
'The eyes are the windows to the soul.'
He always wondered about that, always questioned how the eyes could be considered windows into one’s very soul, and hadn’t properly understood the, perhaps, hidden context behind the statement; not until he looked -really and truly looked - into the midnight-honey brown gorge of one of his best friend’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked nor would it be the last, however it was this instance that the spark of recognition flared to life, and for once he understood.
Here they were standing in one of the empty labs - renovations were taking time and the equipment lost in the explosion wasn’t all delivered just yet -, imbibing food and drink brought in by pretty much the entire nightshift, and some from swing, and here he was, standing perfectly still with breath caught in his throat, staring. Between chips and salsa Nicolas Stokes was hit with an epiphany.
As clichéd as it sounded, and probably was, it seemed as if all time had slowed until it stopped completely, leaving him, still breathless and reeling from the sight of what he found behind dilated pupils, with an eternity to gaze. Unabashed, look he did and feasted on the raw, genuine spirit of one Gregory Hojem Sanders; all warm smiles and kind heart, bad jokes and indubitable personality - All Greg was and would always be stared back at him and Nick couldn’t help but drown.
Then the instant was gone and time moved forward again, carrying the sound of familiar voices and music that had filled the lab before. It all crashed around him and assaulted his ears making him wince. Then those beautiful, soulful eyes were gone in that blink of an eye. He was actually surprised how his heart clenched and seized in his chest at the loss. How desperately he wanted to look again into that vivid purity, how much he wanted to hold its vessel close and never let Greg go. And it hurt to think that he wouldn’t be given the chance.
Nick couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t be this close, so he made his excuses with an embarrassed smile and a quiet laugh then fled. He didn’t know where he was going but somehow managed to end up on the roof of the crime lab, panting and desperately trying not to give into the sorrow that threatened to swallow him whole. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and braved the warm air and the to loud crunch of gravel towards the raised edge of the building overlooking the west section. He just needed to think and grieve, and somehow cope.
“You know, jumping really isn’t the answer Tex.”
Greg smiled at him from the doorway when he managed to still his rapid pulse and push his heart back down from his throat. Greg. The man he just figured out he wanted so deeply, the one who’s eyes drew him in and offered the soul beneath, the one he’d ran from in absolute crushing fear, was moving across the gravel towards him and Nick thought he was going to die. He couldn’t help but smile gently and welcome his demise.
“Not intending to, G. Just wanted to get some fresh air.” He answered back softly and turned around to again stare out across the edge. “The paint fumes ain’t really as bad as before but I think I’m channeling Hodges because I swear they were starting to make me nauseas.”
Greg laughed, soft and open. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bad liar?”
“Once or twice.”
“Well here I am, telling you, for a third time.” A long-fingered hand moved through the space between them and skirted down the length of his arm, gently wrapping around the thin width of his wrist and tugging until Nick’s hand was freed from the trap between his chest and his other arm - Greg guided it to hang loosely between them before his grip eased and those long fingers twined and wrapped around his.
Nick looked down at their hands and wondered why it felt as if they fit so perfectly. His was wide and strong, Greg’s thin and long - It scared him how perfect it did feel. He licked at his lips and tore his eyes away from their hands only to stare at a point just in front of his feet, letting the heavy, but comforting, weight of his friend’s grip consume him.
“Did it scare you?”
The question was out of the blue, so ambiguous, but they both knew what Greg meant. Nick shook his head and even managed to squeeze the other man’s hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The last thing he wanted was for the hand to pull away, for Greg to leave, but he wasn’t sure if he could tell him, to explain, what he’d seen. . .what he found.
So he turned and looked again, dragging his eyes up the length of Greg’s body and settling firmly on the pale sun-kissed face, looking once again into the fathomless depths of brown.
He stared and Greg let him.
He smiled shyly and Greg returned the gesture.
He kissed his friend and Greg closed his eyes, but his soul was still bare to him. It was on the man’s very breath and flowed into him on a contented sigh.
He always wondered about that, always questioned how the eyes could be considered windows into one’s very soul, and hadn’t properly understood the, perhaps, hidden context behind the statement; not until he looked -really and truly looked - into the midnight-honey brown gorge of one of his best friend’s eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d looked nor would it be the last, however it was this instance that the spark of recognition flared to life, and for once he understood.
Here they were standing in one of the empty labs - renovations were taking time and the equipment lost in the explosion wasn’t all delivered just yet -, imbibing food and drink brought in by pretty much the entire nightshift, and some from swing, and here he was, standing perfectly still with breath caught in his throat, staring. Between chips and salsa Nicolas Stokes was hit with an epiphany.
As clichéd as it sounded, and probably was, it seemed as if all time had slowed until it stopped completely, leaving him, still breathless and reeling from the sight of what he found behind dilated pupils, with an eternity to gaze. Unabashed, look he did and feasted on the raw, genuine spirit of one Gregory Hojem Sanders; all warm smiles and kind heart, bad jokes and indubitable personality - All Greg was and would always be stared back at him and Nick couldn’t help but drown.
Then the instant was gone and time moved forward again, carrying the sound of familiar voices and music that had filled the lab before. It all crashed around him and assaulted his ears making him wince. Then those beautiful, soulful eyes were gone in that blink of an eye. He was actually surprised how his heart clenched and seized in his chest at the loss. How desperately he wanted to look again into that vivid purity, how much he wanted to hold its vessel close and never let Greg go. And it hurt to think that he wouldn’t be given the chance.
Nick couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t be this close, so he made his excuses with an embarrassed smile and a quiet laugh then fled. He didn’t know where he was going but somehow managed to end up on the roof of the crime lab, panting and desperately trying not to give into the sorrow that threatened to swallow him whole. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and braved the warm air and the to loud crunch of gravel towards the raised edge of the building overlooking the west section. He just needed to think and grieve, and somehow cope.
“You know, jumping really isn’t the answer Tex.”
Greg smiled at him from the doorway when he managed to still his rapid pulse and push his heart back down from his throat. Greg. The man he just figured out he wanted so deeply, the one who’s eyes drew him in and offered the soul beneath, the one he’d ran from in absolute crushing fear, was moving across the gravel towards him and Nick thought he was going to die. He couldn’t help but smile gently and welcome his demise.
“Not intending to, G. Just wanted to get some fresh air.” He answered back softly and turned around to again stare out across the edge. “The paint fumes ain’t really as bad as before but I think I’m channeling Hodges because I swear they were starting to make me nauseas.”
Greg laughed, soft and open. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bad liar?”
“Once or twice.”
“Well here I am, telling you, for a third time.” A long-fingered hand moved through the space between them and skirted down the length of his arm, gently wrapping around the thin width of his wrist and tugging until Nick’s hand was freed from the trap between his chest and his other arm - Greg guided it to hang loosely between them before his grip eased and those long fingers twined and wrapped around his.
Nick looked down at their hands and wondered why it felt as if they fit so perfectly. His was wide and strong, Greg’s thin and long - It scared him how perfect it did feel. He licked at his lips and tore his eyes away from their hands only to stare at a point just in front of his feet, letting the heavy, but comforting, weight of his friend’s grip consume him.
“Did it scare you?”
The question was out of the blue, so ambiguous, but they both knew what Greg meant. Nick shook his head and even managed to squeeze the other man’s hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way. The last thing he wanted was for the hand to pull away, for Greg to leave, but he wasn’t sure if he could tell him, to explain, what he’d seen. . .what he found.
So he turned and looked again, dragging his eyes up the length of Greg’s body and settling firmly on the pale sun-kissed face, looking once again into the fathomless depths of brown.
He stared and Greg let him.
He smiled shyly and Greg returned the gesture.
He kissed his friend and Greg closed his eyes, but his soul was still bare to him. It was on the man’s very breath and flowed into him on a contented sigh.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 10:14 am (UTC)Thanks for these 2 fics... and waiting to read more :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 10:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 11:28 am (UTC)Both were great... The second was really beatifully written. I love how Greg knows what Nick is thinking. Wonderful. Can't wait to read more stories :)
no subject
Date: 2007-11-05 05:48 am (UTC)