A/N: Written for the csilabrats Frank Sinatra challenge. It was supposed to be Nick/David (those who are surprised, for shame!) but amazonqueenkate's Bobby love and my muse's own insanity conspired to create... this. Fear me!

Disclaimer: Very much not mine. :)

Precariously Close
Part 1

If Jacqui Franco ever discovered that Bobby was in love with David Hodges, Bobby was fairly sure she’d grab her chest before falling to the ground, victim to a shock-induced heart attack. He wished he were being over-dramatic. Well, maybe she wouldn’t have a heart attack, but she would grab at her chest in that was she always does when she’s surprised. Archie would stand completely motionless, stunned. Ronnie –good ol’ Ronnie- would raise his eyebrows until they practically met his hairline before asking, “Are you serious?”

And while Bobby shared everything with his friends, he couldn’t imagine a casual “I’m in love with David” going over well. Sure, they knew he was gay. They accepted it the moment he told them. Even David, whom he originally expected to be a little narrow-minded, just nodded at his admission before asking, “How long do you plan on standing in front of that coffee maker?” That was over three years ago and they’ve never been better friends.

Clearly, his being gay wasn’t the issue. It was the person he felt those feelings for that concerned him. He had no idea how it begun, or even when, but there was no point in denying that David was the one man he wanted. Why should he? He was rude half the time. No one but his fellow lab rats seemed to like him, he barely talked to his family, and his sketchy past had been difficult to piece together.

But some of these qualities were outweighed by others. Like the fact David could sometimes be so sweet; helping Greg after the explosion and babysitting Ronnie’s kids were just for starters. When he started talking about something he was interested in, he went from snarky to almost boyish, genuine smiles punctuating his rushed words. He always changed the subject when a question about L.A. came up, so Bobby could only guess it was a painful time. He couldn’t hold that against one of his best friends.

Not to mention that he’d accidentally walked onto David changing in the locker room once or twice. Bobby had fought not to stare at David’s lanky form, and he was thankful he’d been able to make casual conversation even while David, completely oblivious to what he was doing to Bobby, went on about some new car that had just hit the market.

The fact that Bobby wanted David wasn’t really so bad.

The fact David wanted Nick Stokes was.

…

You can’t help whom you fall in love with. Bobby knew this better than anyone, but it didn’t help that David spent a good portion of his lunchtime trying to figure what it would take for Nick to say yes to one date. He’d bounce suggestions off Bobby –not constantly, not obnoxiously, but enough to make Bobby lose his mind with jealousy- and sometimes all Bobby could manage to say was, “Well, that doesn’t sound like a bad plan.” Most the time, he’d try to find a flaw in David’s schemes, hoping David would give up and see what was right in front of him.

Like right that very moment. They were sitting in the break room, splitting a sandwich from Subway while David watched Nick over his coffee cup. Bobby frowned as he concentrated on picking off the olives, trying to ignore the ugly head that Jealousy was rearing in the corner of the room. David wasn’t being rude, because Bobby knew rude people, like that girl who talked on her cell phone while he tried to order lunch or the guy who took up two parking spaces (he was too lazy to back out and try again). David couldn’t help that his conversational skills all but disappeared when Nick innocently walked by to put in fifty cents in the soda machine.

That didn’t make Bobby feel any better.

Bobby knew the discussion he and David had been having before Nick came in would have to be continued another time, because David’s attention was definitely elsewhere. He took an unenthusiastic bite of his sandwich, his appetite somehow gone, and glanced at David. David never looked at him that way. David didn’t see him at all. With a quiet sigh, Bobby turned to watch Nick; he was all Texan, all charm, all sweet laughter and golden skin and perfect hair. How was he supposed to compete with that?

He watched Nick intently, idly wondering how he could somehow make himself more like Nick and less like himself. Dye his hair? Buy a new wardrobe? He was fairly certain David would know something was up. He was also fairly certain that Nick was going to start wondering why two techs were observing him with such scrutiny.

It took a small kick from beneath the table to drag Bobby from his thoughts and back to the man across from him.

“Did you even hear me?” David asked, sounding slightly annoyed as he set down his coffee cup. Bobby was understandably confused. First of all, he wasn’t even aware David was capable of speech while in a fifty-foot radius of certain Texan CSIs. Second, he wasn’t even aware David had asked a question. Between the olives and the mental makeover, Bobby’s focus was on everything except the relevant.

“Hear you?” Bobby echoed, still trying to process it all. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked what you would want to do on a date,” David repeated, as though it was a common question between them.

Holy Hell, what? In a perfect world, David would be asking it literally, wanting to know where Bobby would like to go on a romantic night out with him. But the world wasn’t perfect; it was messy and ugly and not in Bobby Dawson’s favor. Bobby narrowed his eyes.

“What exactly do you mean?”

David glanced towards Nick again, Warrick having joined his friend. Their heads were together as they discussed a manila file in Warrick’s hand.

“You and Nick are kind of alike,” David replied, training his eyes on Bobby once more. “If there’s something you would want to do, maybe he’d like it too.”

“You’re seriously asking that.”

“I seriously am. I believe Jacqui’s new title for me is appropriate,” David replied, letting out a small laugh and shaking his head. Bobby had to smile at that action. When David wasn’t having word wars with Greg or arguing with Jacqui, he was actually very human-ish. He smiled more often with Bobby, able to laugh at himself when he usually hated to fail. His fear of failure worried Bobby from time to time; sometimes it consumed David, and that was unsettling to consider. Bobby wanted to tell him how perfect he was, how smart and funny and –occasionally- sweet, but that wasn’t his place. He didn’t really have any romantic right to disclose those secrets, so he kept them to himself, waiting for the impossible day he might be allowed to express it all.

“Title? I haven’t heard it yet,” Bobby admitted.

“She came up with it just this afternoon. ‘Cowardly Loser Who Will Die Alone.’ It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Bobby winced. Jacqui sure had a way with words. “Ouch. That had to have stung.”

David rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think she’s getting tired of my pity parties. Not that I blame her. As a matter of fact, I bet you’re hating this conversation right now.”

Bobby gave him a small smile; he hated it, but not for the reason David thought.

“Well, she might not be so frustrated with you if you actually made a move. Aren’t you ever going to tell him?”

Bobby inwardly flinched at the question. Why was he encouraging this? It made him feel sick to his stomach and dizzy in the head. He wanted David to be happy and Nick could undoubtedly do that, but Bobby could do it too. If only David would realize it.

David’s expression was incredulous. “Make a move? Bobby, the man had a prostitute sleep with him for free. You can’t honestly be asking me that question.”

“You think you aren’t good enough?”

The expression David wore made Bobby want to reach over and throttle the other man’s neck. David had no idea how handsome and funny he could be; he, like everyone else, only saw the negative aspects of his personality. They were all blind. That was the only logical excuse Bobby could come up with.

He didn’t mind that David might never know his feelings. He’d accepted that possibility a long time ago. What did bother him was that David might also be on the same boat regarding Nick. Something had to happen, someone had to break, a secret had to be told if David ever hoped to get out of his restrictive box. It was like a glass prison, where David could watch but couldn’t really move or communicate.

And it just so happened that Bobby had the jail cell key.

“Hey Nicky!” he called, an alien sensation of adrenaline suddenly pumping through his veins as he watched Nick and Warrick jolt from their crime chat. He could practically feel David freeze across from him, but he didn’t look to check. If he did, then he’d lose his nerve and he couldn’t face that possibility. “I got a question for you.”

Nick shot Bobby a warm smile. Once again, Bobby hated himself. Nick was one of the nicest people Bobby had ever met; it was no wonder David was so head over heels. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“What’s your idea of a good date?”

Nick was obviously baffled by the inquiry as he exchanged stunned looks with Warrick. David, for good measure, kicked Bobby in the shin again, only with much more force. Bobby fought not to wince, but ow. That was going to leave a bruise the size of Nick’s home state.

“I –uh- don’t really know. Dinner and a movie?”

“That’s certainly nice to know, ‘cause David wants to take you out.”

There was a distinct sound someone made when they choked on their coffee, and David was making it. Similarly, Nick’s eyes were wider than Pluto. And Warrick? Bobby wished he had a camera to capture his expression on film. Bobby himself felt the odd experience of time slowing down as Nick’s eyes flickered towards a horrified David and back to Bobby again.

“What are you rats up to?” Nick asked, trying to brush off the awkward silence that descended. What he couldn’t ignore was that David was quickly gathering his paper and pouring out the rest of his coffee.

“Don’t ask me,” David hurriedly replied, unable to meet Nick’s eyes. “Too many lonely hours with guns.”

With that, he was gone, a blue flash down the hallway before he disappeared around the corner.

Well, Bobby mused. I royally screwed that up.

He cast a look in Nick and Warrick’s direction; Nick was fighting to regain a sense of normalcy while Warrick simply glanced at Bobby and then down the trail that David had blazed to the door. He looked back at the bullet technician.

“Huh,” he murmured, and Bobby had to love the man. He was so calm, so unsurprised about anything that came his way. “Hodges. Who knew?”

“There’s only so long you can watch your best friend yearn, know what I mean?” Bobby asked, as though they were talking about the weather. He smiled at Warrick while putting his mostly-uneaten sandwich in the refrigerator, convinced it was going to be stolen by either Archie or Jacqui before morning. “We told him to tell Nick, but he’s got this unhealthy fear of rejection. Sucks for him, sucks for us, ‘cause we gotta listen to it. I figured I’d get the ball rollin’.”

Bobby wasn’t sure when his voice turned so bitter, but he knew Warrick heard it. The CSI was pinning Bobby beneath a curious look, as though he almost understood what was going on. Bobby wouldn’t be surprised; Warrick was a CSI and was paid to uncover secrets and truths. Nick, on the other hand, was too dumb struck to do anything but stand there.

“Bobby, you’re serious?” he asked, his voice portraying his dazed shock.

“I don’t lie about these things, Nicky,” Bobby replied, shooting him a painful smile. He wished he could hate Nick, yell at him, explain the opportunity that was being given to him on a silver platter. His problem, though, was that he didn’t hate Nick. Nick was a wonderful man: caring, considerate, authentic. How could anyone dislike him? It was just the jealousy making him do crazy things.

He hoped David would forgive him one day.

…

Bobby had been expecting months of non-talking or, at least, insults that were actually meant to hurt. To his dismay (and relief), David walked into his lab four hours later with an expression of utter incredulity.

“You won’t believe what happened. I hardly believe it happened. Hell, it might still be the seventies and I’m still high on something.”

Bobby wondered whether he should just ignore the fact that he figuratively slung David in Nick’s direction. David was supposed to be pissed, not rambling in amazement. He was supposed to ignore Bobby, hate him, and possibly plot his death. David’s brush off of what Bobby had done was startlingly unexpected.

“I give. What is it?”

“Nick asked me out.”

Bobby’s eyes widened and he set down the bullets he’d been fiddling with; evidence could wait, but monumental changes in a friend’s life could not.

“Are you kidding me? When?”

“I was just running tests when he came in. I think I started to apologize for your big mouth-’’ David inserted a pointed glare and Bobby felt slightly reassured. He didn’t expect to get through this ordeal entirely unpunished, and David’s glare could be pretty deadly if he was angry enough. “-When he asked me out to dinner.”

“Whoa.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“So what did you say?”

David groaned at that before shaking his head. Obviously, that part didn’t go well. “I think I stuttered through an entire paragraph that vaguely translated into ‘yes.’ It was humiliating.”

“At least you have experience in the humiliation department.”

David sent him another less-than-lethal glare. “You and I are going to have to rethink this entire ‘friends’ thing, because your support? It’s not so supportive.”

“I try.”

“I can see that,” David dryly replied. “Anyway, this Saturday morning. Breakfast. Movie. Me and Nick.”

Bobby didn’t like to fib, but he didn’t really have a choice.

“I’m real happy for you,” he said, lying between his teeth, wishing he hadn’t said anything to Nick in the first place.

…

Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

Bobby sighed.

Swish.

It was Saturday morning. Bobby knew he should be sleeping… only his common sense and what his body chose to do never correlated.

And since he wasn’t sleeping but he was in bed, he supposed the only thing to do was watch the ceiling fan turn lazy circles.

Swish.

He glanced at his clock and then groaned, turning on his side before placing a pillow on top of his head. He had to stop looking every five minutes, because it didn’t do him any good. Besides, staring at a clock wasn’t going to stop Nick and David’s first date that morning. He was losing sleep over the mundane; he knew this, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He also knew he should be happy for David, because was finally getting what he wanted. At the same time, Bobby couldn’t help but berate himself. Months. Years. He had months and years to tell David how he felt, and he had let them slip past because he was just too afraid to see David’s reaction. It wasn’t fair to David if Bobby just sprung this all on him now. It would make him the worst friend of all time, and even if Bobby officially had no chance with David, he still didn’t want to be away from him. He wanted to stay friends.

Even more unsettling was Nick himself. Bobby had tried not to ruminate over this for too long, but he couldn’t help wonder why Nick and Greg had broken up. It was no secret that the two had been dating –almost four years, in fact- before they called it quits. What had happened? Bobby had no intention of asking Greg, although it would make him feel a lot better if David knew what he was getting into.

Of course, David was a grown man and could certainly take care of himself. Besides, what was Bobby supposed to say? David, I don’t approve of this relationship. He couldn’t imagine that going over particularly well. He vaguely wondered what Jacqui and the rest of their lab rat circle thought of this, but he doubted their opinions were going to change David’s mind.

Swish.

As the sunrise and spinning fan cast moving shadows across the carpeted floor, a shrill ring broke the serenity of the room. Bobby jumped; he’d been so deep in thought that the familiar sound of his bedside phone had startled him. He glanced at it and resisted his automatic urge to answer. Quite frankly, he was in no mood to talk to anyone, much less a friend who could read him like an open, large-print book. If it was Jacqui, she’d immediately worry over his downtrodden voice (which was almost offending, because he worked so hard to keep it cheerful.) If it was Archie, he’d undoubtedly bring up the fact that Bobby hadn’t been hungry for the past week. And Ronnie? Oh, Ronnie was married, which meant he practically had a Ph.D. in emotional distress.

Still, the ringing was annoying in its persistence. He wondered whether he could will it into silence, and then considered just turning the ringer off. Then again, if it were one of his fellow lab rats, his privacy would unquestionably be invaded when they kicked down his door to check whether he was still breathing. It was well known that Bobby always answered his phone, even in the midst of a deep sleep, an interesting movie, or a shower. There was no excuse his friends would buy if he were to simply ignore a call.

Bobby never thought he’d say this, but he sent a silent hope that it was a wrong number as he finally picked up the receiver. “Bobby Dawson speaking,” he greeted as he felt the cool plastic against his ear.

“Bobby? Sorry, did I wake you?”

Bobby was instantly alert; there was no way he couldn’t recognize that voice. It was David, only it was some side of David he’d never heard before. Why? Because David sounded nervous and Bobby never thought David was even capable of being anything less than calm.

“David? What’s up?” he asked, sitting up.

“I figured since you’re the gayest of the bunch, you could help.” Yup. Definitely nervous. He was asking for help, and that never happened. “Jacqui bought me this… sweater… vest… thing. Don’t ask me why. She swears it’s okay to wear, but I don’t plan on taking her word for it. Of course, it’s not like I have anything but work clothes. Or some t-shirt from band camp two decades ago, which probably isn’t dating material anyway.”

“You askin’ for help, David?”

“Uh, yeah. But I don’t trust Jacqui or Archie and especially Greg. Of course, you wear those horrendous plaid shirts.”

“Oh, shut up. You know those are my work clothes.”

“There are some things you just can’t get away with, Bobby.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Five minutes actually meant fifteen, because that’s how long it took to reach David’s place. They both knew this, but the phrase was used to imply they were leaving immediately. It took ten in the end, considering the traffic was mercifully light, and Bobby didn’t even have to knock before David’s apartment door was torn open.

“Thank God,” David declared, grabbing Bobby’s elbow and yanking him inside. “I’ve come to the realization that I can’t dress myself.”

“Nice to see you too.”

“Panic now, pleasantries later.”

“David, there ain’t no reason to panic,” Bobby replied as David shut the door behind him. “When’s Nicky supposed to pick you up?”

“Half an hour.”

“Ah. You must be one of those ‘works well under pressure’ guys.”

“You came here to help, remember?”

“So I did. Lead me to your disastrous closet.”

David gripped Bobby’s arm even tighter and drug him towards the bedroom. Bobby had his fantasies about this particular scene, of course, the one where David wanted Bobby just as badly as Bobby wanted him. The thought made him blush despite the many times he mentally played it out, but a flushed face was the price he’d have to pay for an imaginary seduction.

Bobby had seen the inside of David’s bedroom many times for various reasons (none of which were the ones he wanted), so he knew exactly where the closet was and what to expect. It was always clean to the point of near-OCD, but the clothes were… less than desirable. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t meant for dates, either. Most of them were collared, cotton button ups, and either plain in color or with a subtle stripe design. Bobby knew he had no room to talk, because his attire was pretty hideous, but at least it was… memorable.

“This is all you have?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see David stop his pacing and shoot him an annoyed look.

“No,” David dryly replied. “I have a secret stash of decent clothes that I’m keeping from you.”

“Ah, the sarcasm returns. What was that thing you were talking about?”

“What thing?”

“Jacqui bought it for you, remember? Lead me to it.”

David made a face but sighed and turned towards his dresser. He opened the third drawer before extracting a black sweater vest and holding it up as though it were diseased.

“Don’t ask me why,” David began, shaking his head. “I know I’m part of the geek squad, but I can’t say I’ve ever worn a sweater vest. Except in the eighties. But that was a bad fashion decade for everyone, so you can’t blame me.”

Bobby tilted his head as he looked at the soft sweater. It wasn’t terrible looking, but he could understand why David would be wary. He nodded and turned back to the closet. He was both struck and unsurprised by the cliché he was illustrating: two gay guys fretting over what to wear. But David Hodges was no cliché; instead, he was uncertain and strong and absolutely hopeless. Bobby wondered why in the world he loved him.

He found what he was looking for: a white shirt with roll up sleeves, buttons down the middle, and a pressed collar.

“Here we go,” Bobby said, handing the shirt to its owner. “Black and white’s classic. You got any jeans?”

David blinked, apparently disturbed by what Bobby was suggesting, before nodding. “In the fourth drawer,” he replied, arching an eyebrow as Bobby headed for the dresser and promptly pulled out the appropriate drawer. He quickly searched through the small collection, disregarding the light colored ones in favor of a dark wash pair hidden at the bottom. They were new –the tags gave them away- and behind him, David snorted.

“Yeah, Jacq gave me those too. I think she’s trying to tell me something.”

“Huh. I wonder when she’ll start on me?” Bobby asked, laughing as he pulled the pair from their place and tossing them to the man behind him. He closed the wooden drawer, listening to David laugh in return; it wasn’t necessarily sparkling, but it was rare and beautiful and real.

“I hope it’s soon,” the trace tech replied, and Bobby was about to turn around with a playful reply when he heard the telltale shuffle of clothes. His hand, which had been touching the dresser handle loosely, was now gripping the handle with force, turning his knuckle white. He closed his eyes and hated himself. He had seen David undress plenty of times –in the locker room, mostly- but this was different somehow. They were alone without the first glass wall, and Bobby wanted nothing more to say Don’t go and Stay here with me and All I need’s a chance. “God knows half of your shirts should be thrown onto a bonfire and burned to a crisp.”

Bobby was trying to concentrate on their little war of wits, but he was actually trying to deduce when it would be safe to turn around. He was pretty sure the original shirt was gone and the white one was on, and now- yep, the sound of a zipper. The original pants were being lost as well; the price tags were being torn off and- okay, the brush of skin against denim and another zipper noise and-

“Bobby?”

The voice drug him from his previous task of concentration and into the then and there. The question was both confused and unsure; the confusion stemmed from the fact that Bobby hadn’t turned around the entire time and the uncertainty was based on whether he looked presentable in his current attire. Bobby sent a silent prayer that David would be fully clothed –if he wasn’t, Bobby wasn’t quite sure what he’d do- and turned around.

Bobby stopped, eyes flickering over David’s form before he smeared on a look-at-me-I’m-your-best-friend-and-nothing-more smile. It was a painful motion, because all Bobby wanted to do was simply sit and admire him before taking off the new clothes and admiring him even more. “You look perfect,” he promised. Why was it so hard to speak? “Trust me.”

“And you’re sure I don’t look like a dork?” David asked, disbelieving. Bobby nodded vigorously.

“Positive,” he honestly replied; between the well-fitting jeans and the way the sweater outlined his torso, he doubted anyone would even think such a thing. “You got your wallet and keys?”

David practically leapt into the living room to gather those items, making sure he had enough cash and a key to both his car and front door. It was almost… endearing… to see David so excited and anxious. In an ideal world, it would be Bobby causing those feelings, but the world was far from perfect, and Bobby found himself leaving David’s apartment before Nick was scheduled to arrive. Naturally, he wished his friend luck first, but didn’t mean a single word of it.

Twenty minutes later, Bobby was back in his own bed again, trying to fall asleep. He was more successful this time; he had taken two Tylenol PMs for his stomach, and as the pills finally kicked in, he knew he’d have to get past this if he ever hoped to feel good again.

…

One month into it, Bobby was beginning to worry about himself. Just how long did he plan on moping at home? There was only so long you could get away with it until someone began to notice. With his luck, of course, not just one person noticed: three people were beginning to recognize an odd pattern. If David and Nick joined them for breakfast, Bobby was too tired to tag along. If David and Nick joined them for dinner at Ronnie’s house, Bobby already had plans. If David and Nick joined them for movie morning, then Bobby had Something Else To Do. It was never when David or Nick decided to hang out with the lab rats separately, but if they were together, Bobby always had a reason for not being there.

And that just wasn’t like him.

Jacqui, Archie, and Ronnie hadn’t been concerned at first. They were only technicians, not CSIs, and they were trained to recognize chemical compounds, striations, letter slants, arches, and footage variations. They weren’t trained to pick up on the human element or tiny details, but the clues Bobby were inadvertently leaving behind weren’t exactly subtle; as a matter of fact, every passing night made them clearer and clearer in the eyes of his friends. It was only a suspicion at first, but the small nagging voice became an immense bellow, one that asked Is it only coincidence that Bobby never hangs out with David and Nick?

Coincidence? There was no such thing.

But they had no hard proof to support their little hypothesis, so the nights passed as they always did: Bobby smiling and laughing like the cheerful man he was while simultaneously avoiding David and Nick as much as he could. By then, Jacqui had been watching him like a hawk, and she didn’t like what she was seeing. One night in the break room, David and Nick had walked in; a few seconds later, Bobby had poured out the rest of his coffee and excused himself, citing numerous bullets in dire need of processing. Jacqui, however, was a shrewd woman and knew Bobby had very little evidence to work with. Something was off; she knew it, Archie knew it, Ronnie knew it, and even David watched him go with an uncertain expression, as if wondering what he’d done to offend the other man.

It wasn’t until a week later that Jacqui finally dreamt up a plan to test her theory; it was quite genius if she did say so herself. (Which she did. Repeatedly.) Halloween was quickly approaching, and if there was one holiday that she actually liked, it was Halloween. How can you beat a night of dressing up and endless candy? And how much more fun is it when it’s spent with friends, a few Mystery Science Theater movies, and a bowl of fun-sized Milky Ways?

So she arranged the small get-together at her place. Ronnie came dressed as a pirate, which meant wearing an old shredded t-shirt and an eye patch (a costume undoubtedly suggested by his kids.) Greg came as a quasi-showgirl, Archie came as La Forge from the Enterprise, Bobby showed up with a cowboy hat and boots, and Jacqui threw on an old prom dress (amazingly, it still fit) and smeared on some black eye shadow and pale powder. She was the Zombie Prom Date because, yes, she rocked that much.

Nick and David had declined costume; they did, however, bring food to make up for it. Not surprisingly, they were welcomed with open arms, but that wasn’t what Jacqui had noticed.

The moment they showed up, Bobby had stilled.

Jacqui was never one to guilt trip, but she was beginning to feel a little sick to her stomach. The only reason Bobby had come was because she had mentioned Nick wouldn’t be able to make it. She knew it was a lie, but she also knew Bobby would have declined her invitation otherwise. Bobby glanced at them before glancing at her; their eyes met for a moment, and his pain was evident in his expression. What was going on? And why?

Bobby felt his stomach drop. It was just like Jacqui to pull a stunt like that and he was suddenly struck with a sickening realization: all of his acting, his excuses, and his careful avoidant strategies were useless. Had he been transparent? Had Nick or David noticed? He was no Julliard graduate, but he’d been trying, damnit. He’d been putting an exhaustive amount of effort into making sure no one picked up on his behavior while simultaneously juggling work and obligatory social functions.

He broke his gaze away from her made-up face and back to where David and Nick were placing their groceries on the dining room table. What was he supposed to do now? He was trapped there for at least an hour -he couldn’t leave any sooner lest he risk being rude- and, apparently, stuck watching David be happy.

He turned back towards the sink, where he’d been washing an apple. He couldn’t be mad at Jacqui. She didn’t know about how he felt, and he certainly hadn’t told her. Sure, he wanted to be upset with her, furious even, and although she’d practically guaranteed that the party would be void of certain Texans, it appeared as though her prediction was false. And now he found himself in an incredibly odd situation: he was uncomfortable around his favorite people while resenting David’s happiness. Who knew such a day would ever come?

Okay, he didn’t resent the fact that David was happy, but he resented that his friend’s contentment came from being with a man whose name wasn’t Bobby Dawson. Throughout the month, he had watched David laugh more than usual, and he knew that laughter came from having a relationship with Nick. He was glad that David was finally becoming comfortable in his own skin (it had taken three years to get him that way), but it was still unbearable from Bobby’s viewpoint.

He watched the clear water rush over the red apple, lost in a maze of endless thoughts. Something still nagged at him. Something was… off.

Because when David wasn’t laughing, he was frowning with intent. You can’t laugh all the time; Bobby knew that, and he knew David used his laughter sparingly, but he still seemed so… withdrawn. Bobby would watch him in the break room sometimes, and David would stare at the tabletop while running his index finger in a circular pattern, obviously astray in his own barrage of mental musings. His expression was always a strange mix of concentration and distance, and Bobby had a feeling it somehow involved Nick.

He clutched the apple harder. Something was bothering David, although he was trying to hide it. Maybe bad acting was a lab rat quality; Bobby’s attempts to smoothly evade Nick and David were terrible and David was hiding his discontent poorly. Nick wasn’t hurting David, was he? No, that couldn’t be it. It was Nick, for crying out loud; the man wouldn't hurt a fly, much less his own boyfriend. Maybe he was cheating on him. That didn’t seem like a liable possibility either, because Nick just wasn’t like that. Maybe-

“You know, it’s clean by now,” came the amused voice of one Greg Sanders. Bobby gave a small jump before lurching to turn the water off. How long had he been standing there like an idiot?

“I must’ve spaced out,” Bobby murmured, and Greg shot him a disbelieving look.

“Must’ve? You’ve only been washing that thing for the past three minutes. You know, between you and me, I'm beginning to think Jacqui’s worry isn't totally tenuous. You haven’t been yourself.”

“Greg, you’re wearing glitter eye shadow and lip gloss. You can’t tell me about worry when you’re half a cross dresser.”

“Hey, I already had the headdress.”

“A likely story.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy. Now take a look: we’re alone in the kitchen, completely unheard. Wanna tell me what’s going on? Contrary to popular opinion, I can listen.”

“You mean you can stop talking? Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen that actually happen before,” Bobby playfully replied, turning and leaning against the sink as he took a bite of his apple.

“Oh, ha ha. Let’s give Comedian Dawson a round of applause.”

“I’ll be here all week.”

Greg smiled and rolled his eyes before focusing his attention back on his friend. “Skirt it all you want, Bobby, but I won’t let it go. Tell me what the problem is. Maybe we can work it out.”

Bobby gave a small laugh and shook his head. “This can’t be worked out, Greg.”

“So you’re admitting there’s a dilemma?”

“I ain’t copping to anything.”

“Then you’ve given me no other option but to guess,” Greg theatrically announced, rubbing his chin in an exaggerated indication of deep thought. “Choices, choices. Is it… financial troubles?”

Way off, Greg. “Nope.”

“Family troubles?”

In a way, I guess. We’re all family here. “Nah.”

“Boy troubles?”

You could say that. “Nope.”

“Nick and Dave?”

Damn. “What?”

Greg broke into a self-congratulatory grin before crossing his arms in an I-knew-it-all-along manner. “C’mon, you’ve been avoiding them like the plague. You’ve been a little obvious, my friend.”

Bobby winced. “Has anyone else noticed?”

“Um, yeah?”

Bobby looked down in embarrassment, wishing Archie’s beloved Captain Kirk could beam him away, when Greg spoke again.

“Wanna know something?”

Bobby glanced up, frowning at Greg’s new tone. It was soft, hurt, and heavy with regret. He set the apple onto the counter, forgotten, as he gave his friend a concerned look.

“Greg?” he queried, frowning. “You okay?”

“I hate it too,” came the reply, his voice nearly breaking on the word ‘too.’ Bobby froze; what did Greg mean? What was he saying? “I don’t hate that they’re happy,” the young man continued. “I just… I used to be with Nick, and it’s so hard to watch him be with anyone else.”

And so Greg stood, removing his headdress and holding it with gloved hands, looking at Bobby with brown eyes framed in sparkles and lips shining beneath the kitchen light. And somehow, in his honesty, he didn’t look ridiculous or weird at all.

He looked human. He looked like he understood exactly how Bobby felt.

And Bobby suddenly knew he had to do something if things were ever going to be genuine again.

TBC.