Title: From Then On
Pairing: Slash Nick/Greg

Rating: PG-13 just to be safe.

Summary: Greg remembers the first time Nick kissed him and wonders if Nick remembers too. There might be some grammar issues but this is the first thing I’ve written in a while, not that that’s an excuse.

AN: For the record this is my first slash story. I think Nick and Greg are too cute together not to write about but I also like both of them straight and am working on a story about Greg and an original female character. But anyway this is just a little idea I had.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters and I never will. I really don’t know who owns them but I’m just gonna say CBS, they aren’t mine, that’s all.

I don’t know if you remember the first time you kissed me. It’s been nearly three years now and I still think about it everyday. You may not remember but I do. It was one of the defining moments in my life. From then on I’ve been yours, even if you don’t want me.

It was my first year at the lab; I had barely been working there three months. Catherine invited me to her Christmas party; she did her best to make me feel welcome even though I knew I kind of annoyed her. My nerves were running wild as soon as I stepped in the door. I didn’t really know anyone. Everyone was a little older then me and I suddenly felt immature and out of place. You were getting hammered. Out of boredom I was watching you, counting every beer you pulled from the plastic cooler on Catherine’s counter. With every long neck bottle your Texas accent got a little stronger and a few of Catherine’s friends from outside of CSI, her neighbors and parents of kids in Lindsay’s class, were giving you a wary eye. I had made myself comfortable on the couch a while ago and was nursing a can of coke, watching everyone mingle. I decided to cut out early, I still had time to go back to my apartment and make some ramen, watch Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer on TV. I found Catherine among the people and said good-bye. She grabbed my wrist.

“Greg Nick’s plastered” she sighed glancing in your direction, “He can’t drive home and…” I cut her off.

“You want me to play designated driver?” I questioned glancing at you; you were sitting on the couch, laughing a little too loudly about something.

“Please?” she pleaded and I sighed. It’s not like I really had anything else to do.

“Uh, Nick…” back then you were a little intimidating. You looked like the guys who had pushed me around in high school and mumbled ‘fag’ under their breath when I made a presentation in front of the class. You looked up at me and smiled the biggest drunk smile I had ever seen.

“Heeeey Greggo!” I contemplated the nickname for a moment. It sounded nice. “What’s new? Why don’t ya have a beer?” your words kind of slurred together but I could make them out, you were speaking frat boy, a language I had mastered at college. I smiled at you.

“Actually Nick, Catherine asked me to drive you home” I reached for your arm trying to help you up.

“Ohh but the party’s not over yet” you whined sticking out your bottom lip, enticing me in ways I didn’t want to be enticed.

“Well Nick, you’re drunk and I’m not. So lets go” I reached down again and gripped your arm helping you stumble to your feet. You arm was big, muscular. I dropped my hand; I hoped you could walk without me.

“Bye Catherine, Later Grissssss” you pronounced a long drawn-out s at the end of Grissom’s name and laughed. He flinched and raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but laugh. We slipped out the front door. Outside the weather was cool but not nearly as cold as Christmas’s on TV. You frowned.

“What kina car ya drive Greggo?” you asked and it wasn’t until I was down the front steps I realized you weren’t following me. I spun on my heel and saw you standing there in the middle of Catherine’s front porch.

“A cheap one” I answered climbing back up the stairs for you. “Come on”. You just stared at me. I was in front of you, probably a good six inches. A huge grin broke onto your face and you looked up. I looked up to see what you were looking at. Hanging there from the awning that stretched across Catherine’s front porch was mistletoe. The porch was illuminated by multi colored Christmas lights and the faint sounds of the party inside still reached us. I looked back down from the mistletoe and suddenly you didn’t look drunk. You looked hungry, you were staring at my mouth and I remember the way my entire body heated up and my palms got sweaty, suddenly you felt so much bigger then me. Suddenly I could see how amazing your eyes were, they were big and soft and incredibly intense, I wanted to stare into them forever. You reached one hand out and touched the side of my face, let your finger trace over my bottom lip. I was tempted to pulled it into my mouth but I was too nervous. Did I know I liked guys? Yea, I had always known. But I didn’t really have too much experience in the department. I spent my high school years denying the fact and my college years hiding it. I had never even really known another gay guy. Were you even gay or were you just drunk? Before I could think of an answer myself you leaned down and pressed your big pouty lips against mine, my eyes slid closed and I think I moaned. You tongue forced my lips open and it dueled with mine. Your hands fell to my sides, gathering me close to your body and I felt like some damsel in distress in an old time movie who had just been rescued by the detective in a trench coat and fedora. I wanted it to last forever and then I thought of everyone inside, of Grissom and Cathy and the entire lab who could open the door at any minute and see us, what would they do? I didn’t want to but I pulled away. My face was hot and flushed and your lips were swollen and wet. For a second you just stared and I felt like your gaze was going to light me on fire. And then you were drunken Nick again, falling down the stairs away from me, laughing the whole way. After a shocked moment I followed and led you to my car, strapped you into the passenger seat thinking about Santa Claus and old people anything to get my mind off of us pressed together on the porch as I pulled the safety belt across your lap. You rested your head against the seat and I climbed into the driver side, put the key in the ignition and asked you where you lived. I was able to make out the directions, incoherent as they were.

“This is it?” I asked glancing out the window. You had a house; a nice rancher style house that looked like a family belonged inside, not a bachelor. You frowned.

“Yea… just me myself and I” you slurred with a yawn at the end. We both climbed out and I thought you were sobering up a little.

“Where are your keys?” I questioned when we got to the front door.

“Somewhere” you started to pat yourself down and I clenched my hands tightly to fight the urge to help you search your body. You smiled. “Got em” I watched you fumbled with them until you found the house key and slipped it in the door. I got a glimpse of the inside from over your shoulder. You stared at me for a moment.

“I’m sorry Greg” you sighed and I didn’t realize what you were apologizing for until he door shut in my face.

Like I said, it’s been nearly three years since that day. You’ve gone on with your life, pretending nothing ever happened, maybe not remembering anything did happen. I’ve been trying to convince myself nothing did, you were just drunk and when you kissed me I didn’t feel like that. I didn’t feel like your arms were where I could spend my forever. I hear you talk about girls and I pretend to be impressed not jealous. We’ve become good friends and sometimes I think it’s better this way. At least it’s normal this way.

The parking lot is illuminated by the heavy-duty streetlights that hang over the sides of the building. I walk across the parking lot towards my car. It’s been a long shift and I want nothing more then to go home and collapse into bed. Then I see you. Your leaned over the front of your huge SUV with your head in the engine, those Texas cowboy tight jeans tease me but I push those thoughts to the back of my mind.

“What seems to be the trouble buddy?” I ask coming to lean on the car next to you. You glance up and smile at me.

“Not really sure, something seems to have died on me”

“You mean Mr. Texas farmhand don’t know how to fix his car?” I tease because you like to point out how I grew up surfing and eating tacos while you grew up milking cows and fixing trucks.

“Shut up Greg”, you reprimand with humor in your voice and slam the hood down. “So are you gonna give me a ride or not?” My Toyota Camry doesn’t have much on your gas-guzzler but it gets me around. You slip into the passenger side and suddenly the memory of me buckling you up plays in my mind. Now you’re not drunk and you start sifting through my CD’s in the center consol, making faces at each one. I’ve been to your rancher since that night. Me and you and Warrick have sat gathered around your TV watching movies and eating pizza. There’s traffic today though and we wind up in a stand still. It’s quiet in the car because you hate my music and I hate yours. We’re both tired from work and all I can think about is the last time I drove you home. I reach for the radio suddenly and don’t realize your doing the same thing. Our hands collide violently and your fingers wind up intertwined with mine. You pull away first and I don’t turn the radio on. I glance sideways at you; you’re in deep thought staring out your window.

“Greg?” your voices breaks the silence.

“Yea?” I’m almost afraid to speak because I’m afraid of what you’re going to ask.

“You remember the last time you drove me home?” your voice has some hesitation in it and you speak softly. I think maybe I’m imagining it but when I turn to look at you your watching me with hopeful eyes, waiting for an answer.

“You were drunk,” I whisper and I realize I’m talking to myself, reassuring myself that you aren’t thinking about what I am. You’re still staring at me.

“I wasn’t as drunk as I was acting”. I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me. My heart starts racing. “You remember… you remember what happened right?” your tone of voice sounds different then usual and all of the sudden my throat is dry.

“Yea”, we sit in silence for a little while longer.

“I remember too… Greg when I kissed you…” your voice falters for a moment and I’m in too much excitement over the fact that your admitting it happened, you kissed me, you really kissed me and it wasn’t a dream, “when I kissed you… it wasn’t some drunken mistake… I knew what I was doing… I wanted to do it… to kiss you”. I turn to you and you look so relived like you’ve just told your biggest secret, maybe you just did.

“It was nice”, I whisper honestly and it feels good. I see the corners of your mouth turn upward into a grin and can feel the blush working up my face into my cheeks.

“You pulled away… I thought… I thought I had made a big mistake”, suddenly you sound insecure and all these years come back to haunt me, I damn myself for pulling away, for caring what anyone else would think. I’m gripping the steering wheel so tightly from excitement my knuckles are turning white; it’s the only thing I can do to stop myself from screaming in joy.

“I was just scared… I wanted it though… I have wanted it…” I’m not really sure what to say and I fumble over my words but you still smile. The traffic starts to move and I have to drive, take my concentration off of you. We don’t talk anymore but suddenly there’s a frantic feeling about this drive, a strong desire to get out of this car. I’m confused and unsure because this is all I’ve wanted for so long and it’s finally happening. The car slides into your driveway easily and I cut the ignition. We both climb from our seats; hearts racing and you unexpectedly take my hand when I get close enough to you. I can’t help but smilebut thenI see a neighbor of yours, glaring at us from his front porch where he's sitting in a wicker chair under his porch lightsmoking a cigar. I guess you can see it on my face because you follow my eyes and spot him frozenin his chairwatching us. I expect you to let go of my hand but you don’t, you only grip it tighter.

“Hey there Mr. Hurely” you wave with your free hand and after a moment of shock he turns away and goes back to reading the newspaper sprawled out on his lap. You’ve just made a bold statement and it makes me feel good, like this isn’t something I need to be ashamed of. When we get to the front door you press me against it and your lips finally find mine again. It’s been too long and I could kiss you for the rest of my life. We need air eventually though and with our noses pressed together you laugh,

“You wanna come in Greg?” I don’t need to answer the question; I just pat your body down for your keys, find them in your jacket pocket and drop them into your palm. You unlock the door with us still pressed against it and when we fall together onto your living room floor I can’t help feeling like we’re falling into forever.

Author- Well there it is, kinda cheesy? Oh well I like it, hope some of you did, I would love some feedback :)