Nick lounged around the house until it was well into the night. He was so upset over Sara that he had decided not to go out with the doorman from the Lotus. The whole time that he would be with them man, he would be reminded of Sara's request earlier that day, and then, ultimately, her proposition. He shuddered at the thought. It didn't matter that he was into women as well, he wouldn't touch her if his life depended on it.

Thankfully, the woman had chosen to make herself scarce for the rest of the day after that little incident in his room. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen his grandfather for the rest of the night, either. Well, at least he knew where she was, even if he didn't want to know what details of what.

He settled down to watch TV in one of the living rooms, but quickly found out that there was nothing on. He sighed and threw down the remote. He made his way upstairs to his room. He open the door and went inside. He only took a few steps in before he heard an odd crunch underneath his shoes. He looked down.

He walked in the rest of the way before closing the door behind him. He crouched down and picked up a piece of something that looked to be ceramic.

"What the hell?" He looked for a bigger piece, which was only slightly larger than the first one, and turned it around in his hands, carefully. He recognized the pattern on that piece almost immediately. His head snapped around to his desk.

He dropped the piece down onto the floor and walked over to his desk. His ceramic figurine was indeed missing. No, not missing. It was laying in about a million pieces on his floor. He had a good idea of who might have broken it. "That fucking whore!" He yelled. He slammed his fist down onto the his desk.

The figurine had been a gift from his grandfather when he was twelve. He had cherished the thing ever since then, always keeping it where he could see it to remind himself of his grandfather when he went on long trips. Now, he had nothing but shattered pieces of clay.

He didn't feel like calling a maid in at this time of night, just to clean yet another mess that Sara had made. He just used a piece of paper to scoop up as much of the ceramic as he could. The rest would be cleaned up on the maid's daily pass-through. He put the pieces and the paper into a the wastebasket by his desk. He then walked into his bathroom to wash his hands.

He thought about taking a shower, but decided against it. He wasn't going anywhere, but to bed, and he would just sweat the freshness away during the night. He sighed and walked back into his room. He stripped down to his boxers and was about to get into bed, when his cell phone rang. His eyes immediately went to his nightstand, expecting to see the device, but it wasn't in it's usual place. He sighed again. He must have been so distracted by Sara's presence in his room that he did even take his phone out of his jacket pocket. He walked over to the chair and removed it from his jacket. He looked at the caller ID, but didn't recognize the number. He shrugged and flipped open his phone.

"Hello?" He said.

"...Um, hi. I-is this Nick?" A voice asked. It sounded young, and male, with a slight accent. Nick snorted in his mind. Yeah, that narrowed it down a bit. It wasn't like it was everyday that young men from every walk of life called Nick on his cell. Absolutely not.

"Who's askin'?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is Greg," Greg said.

Nick sat down on the bed and laid back against the pillows, crossing his legs at the ankles. He put his hand behind his head. "You're gonna have to narrow it down a little, buddy," he said. He knew about fifty 'Gregs'.

"It's the Greg from at Lotus. Remember, you accidentally bumped into me and I spilled my drink?" Greg asked.

The image of the young man from earlier that day flashed through his mind. He was still flushed, and his shirt was translucent from the liquid spilled down his front. Nick could see the outline of the young man's lean torso though the material and it was all Nick had in him not to rip the shirt off the boy and lick the juice off of him. Nick's hand came from behind his head and splayed on his own torso at the thought. "Oh, that Greg."

"Yeah!" Greg laughed, nervously. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

Nick smiled. It was refreshing that the boy sounded so insecure and positively naive, instead of jaded and self-important like he was used to dealing with. "How could I forget a face like yours?" And a body like his, too. Too bad it was covered in those horrible mama's boy clothes.

Greg laughed again. Nick could see him blushing like some sweet little thing. It stirred something inside of Nick. He couldn't quite put his finger on what that 'something' was, but it felt damn good, so why question it?

"Um, so, I was wondering...Since you left me that note..." Greg paused.

"Yeah?" 'Come on, spit it out. You can do it. It's not that hard,' Nick thought.

"I was wondering it you really wanted to go out with me," Greg said in a rush.

Go out with him? No. Nick didn't 'go out' with anyone. "I'm willing to have some fun, tonight. I need a change," he said.

"Really? So, are you coming to pick me up? I don't really have a way to get to you."

Nick's thumb rubbed circles on his stomach. "Sure. What hotel are you staying at?"

"How'd you know I was staying at a hotel?" Greg asked, surprised.

"You don't look or act like you're from here. Hell, I'm not from here, and I find myself getting caught up in it all every once in a while. Anyway, you must not have been here before, and even if you have, not for long."

"That's right. It is my first time here in Las Vegas."

"I thought as much. So, what hotel?" Nick asked again.

"Oh, um, I'm at the Venetian Resort Hotel and Casino. Do you need directions?"

"Nah. I know exactly where that is," Nick said. He should know. He'd been there plenty of times for midnight rendezvous', and just to crash when he didn't feel like staying at home. A seven hundred and fifty dollar a night crash pad. He'd been known to stay there for weeks on end. As long as his uncle was footing the bill, Nick had no problem with blowing his money on expensive hotel accommodations.

"Okay. So..." Greg paused. "Around 12:30?" He asked, cautiously.

"Perfect. I'll be there," Nick said.

"Okay. Um, bye."

"Yeah." Nick flipped his phone shut. He smiled and pumped his fist in the air, letting out a whoop before he realized how it would sound to the help if they were to walk outside his room right now. He quickly quieted. He laid on his bed, staring at the canopy for a moment. He hadn't been this excited about meeting up with someone in a while. Okay, more than a while, but who's counting? There was just something about that boy that just made him want to ravish him one moment, and then coddle him the next. Even the mere memory of him was intoxicating. He stood up and shed his boxers.

He was going to be needing that shower tonight after all.


Greg hung up the phone and jumped up on the cushion of the chair, squealing in delight. He covered his mouth, fearing that Warrick or Catherine would hear. He settled for giggling fitfully behind his hand, his bottom settled firmly on the cushion. He settled himself. Giggling was not manly. Giggling meant that he was a kid, and he wasn't. He was going on a da- no, i out /i with a grown man. A grown man wouldn't have asked him out if he was still a kid, right? It was time for him to start acting like one.

He got up and walked into his bathroom. He took off his clothes and took a quick shower. He only had thirty minutes to get ready, after all. He got out and wrapped a fluffy hotel towel around his hips. He walked into his room and looked through his closet for something to wear. He pulled out a hanger. It had a light green polo shirt, and dark blue Dickies on it. This should be good. Catherine had picked it out. He fingered the collar distastefully. He just wished it didn't have a collar, though. He shrugged and laid the outfit on the bed. He walked over to his drawer and pulled out a new pair of boxers. He slid them on and then moved over to the bed and put on his clothes. He put on shoes and socks and looked at the clock on his nightstand. He had seven minutes until he had to be down at the lobby. He walked back into the bathroom and tried to do something with his hair. He ran an comb through it a few times and then looked at himself in the mirror. Well, at least it wasn't messy.

He walked back into his bedroom and picked up his cardkey and then found his wallet. He put the card in his wallet, briefly checking to see if he had enough money for the night. "I hope two-thousand dollars is going to be enough," he said aloud. He closed up his wallet and stuffed it into his back pocket. He rummaged in his bag for his watch. Finding it, he put it on. He picked up a black Dickies jacket and draped it over his arm. He took one last look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom before he walked to the front door.

He gingerly turned the lock, thankful that it didn't make any noise. He slowly opened the door and peaked outside. The coast was clear. He didn't expect anyone to be standing outside of his door, but he'd known Warrick to do so on occasion. The man would usually smile at him and tell him to go back to bed, and that he could get Greg whatever he wanted for him. Well, tonight, Greg didn't want to go to bed, and he sure didn't want something that Warrick could give him, at least not anymore.

He walked out, closing the door silently behind him. He then walked to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for it to come back up to his floor. The doors soon pinged upon and he stepped inside. Once the doors closed and he pressed the button for the lobby, he leaned back against the railing and let out a breath. He'd made it out without getting caught. He found himself wanting to giggle again, but he held it in, settling for making faces at himself in the mirrored backing of the elevator. The doors pinged open once again and he walked out into the lobby.

For it being after midnight, it was sure a lot of people out and about here, or so Greg thought. He pulled his collar up, and lowered his head, hoping not to be spotted. It would be just his luck for Hodges to be out and about doing whatever it is that he does when he's not on duty and catch him out of his room. He sat on a chaise and took a look around the room. He didn't see Nick anywhere. He looked back down at his watch. It was already 12:30, shouldn't Nick be here?

He waited.

And he waited. Still, no Nick. There was a faint tightening in his chest, and his face was starting to get hot. He felt like crying. Did Nick really stand him up? Of course, he did. Nick had probably remembered exactly who he was and was repulsed. Who would want a kid like him? He wasn't sexy, and he wasn't confident, or mature. He was just...Greg. Gutten. Always has been, always would be. He wiped at his stinging eyes with his jacket.

"Greg?" He heard above him.

"What?" He mumbled, not looking up.

"Sorry, I'm late. Are you okay?"

Greg looked up at those words. He'd never been so happy to see a near stranger in his life. "Nick!" So, he hadn't been stood up! He jumped up and put his arms around Nick.

Nick stumbled back, stunned. Normally, he would have been a little appalled that someone had taken such a liberty as to touch him without his permission, but with Greg, it seemed okay. Odd, but okay. He patted the boy's back awkwardly. He'd walked into the hotel lobby, eighteen minutes late and saw Greg sitting there on a chaise, looking around anxiously. Before he had gotten to him, he saw the boy's face crumble. Oh, fuck, did he think that he stood him up? Okay, so, maybe he should have expected that, but he'd been known to make guys wait hours for him. Hm, would Greg have known that? Probably not, seeing as he wasn't even from here. It was Nick's mistake, one that he would rectify.

When Greg finally pulled away, he was smiling, if still a bit red-nosed. Nick found it adorable.

Greg laughed a little. He scrubbed at his nosed. "Oh, man, I'm sorry."

Nick shrugged. "Nah, it's cool." Nick draped an arm around Greg's shoulders. They started walking towards the doors. "First thing's first; we gotta get you some new threads."


"Clothes," Nick said, picking distastefully at Greg's Polo. "Your clothes aren't my style. In fact, I don't even think they're this decade's style."

Greg looked down at himself. "But...I like these clothes. Catherine picked them out for me." He pouted.

Nick snorted. "Yeah, can tell. Your clothes look like something your mother picked out." He placed his hand under Greg's chin and tilted his head up so that their eyes met. "You need something that'll fit you." He ran his thumb across Greg's chin.

Greg drew in a shuddering breath. "I do?"

Nick smiled. "Yeah, you do." He dropped his hand and pushed open the door and they walked out of the hotel. A valet was standing by Nick's Ferrari waiting for him to return. He tossed the keys to Nick.

"Thanks, Donté," Nick said.

The valet gave him a smile with unnaturally white teeth. "No prob, Nick. Anything for you." He winked at Nick. He looked at Greg. "Who's the twink?" He asked Nick.

Nick shot him a look. "Shut up, Donté!"

Donté raised his hands. "Hey, sorry, sorry!" He made a zipping motion over his mouth with his hand, then shook his head and walked away.

"How come you had a valet?" Greg asked as Nick opened the door for him. "You aren't staying here, are you?"

"No." Nick shook his head and walked over to the other side of the car. "I just stay here a lot."

Greg nodded. "Oh, so that's how you know Donté?"

Nick opened his door and then looked at Greg. He sighed and looked to the side. "Yeah, that's how I know him. Get in."

They both got in and Nick drove away from the hotel and down the Strip. Greg's fingers drummed nervously on his thighs. "So, where are we going?" He asked.

Nick looked over at him. "A place my friend owns. It's a vintage clothing store. Since you seem to be living in a decade past, I think I could make it work for you, but...more stylish. Oh, that reminds me!" He pulled out his cell phone and then dialed a number. "Hey, Rick..."

Greg heart pounded in his chest. Could Nick really be calling Warrick to tell him what he'd done? His hands wrung in his lap. He bit his lip.

Nick looked over at him. "Hey, what's wrong? No, not you, Rick!"

"O-oh, nothing. It's just that your friend and my friend have the same name," Greg said.

Nick nodded. "Hm, I doubt that you know him. He's been here his whole life, since before Vegas was what it is today."

Greg let out a breath of relief. "Oh! My mistake."

Nick shrugged and turned back to the road. "Huh? Yeah, I know I called you. Listen, I've got a little project for you. No, not that kinda project. Mind out of the gutter, old man," Nick laughed into the phone. "Seriously, can you open the doors for me this once?" He listened to the man on the other line, falling silent for a moment. "Yes, I know what time it is. Okay, I'll owe you, but, mark my words, you'll see why when I get there." He turned off his phone. He lifted up the middle armrest and Greg saw that it was hollow on the inside. Nick threw his cell phone into it and then dropped the armrest back down. He looked over at Greg again.

He smiled. "One step towards making you the hottest piece in Las Vegas." He revved the car, speeding them even faster down the Strip.

Greg blushed and looked away, biting his thumbnail. Him? Hot? It was impossible, but if Nick thought that he could do it, why not let him try? He looked back at Nick, and a question popped into his head.

"Hey, Nick, what's a twink?"

Greg sat in the car, feeling the jeans across his thighs.

Nick raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, if you keep rubbing at them like that, you're going to rub a hole right through them. They're vintage," he said, amused.

"I'm sorry. It's just that they're so..." Greg stopped, searching for words to say.

"Retro? This decade? Vegas-y? What?" Nick offered.

"Tight," he said, wriggling in his seat.

"Oh, you mean better fitting than those ill-fitting potato sacks you called Dickies? At least, now I can tell you have legs."

Greg sighed. "Yeah, but you can tell something else, too."

Nick smirked. "Yeah? Like what?"

Greg looked around. Nick wondered why. They were alone in the car, of course. There were only two seats. "You can see that I'm not wearing any underwear!" He hissed.

Nick laughed. "Isn't that the point?"

Greg frowned. "I don't know. Is it?" He asked.

Nick laughed again. "You're kidding me, right?" Greg just looked at him even more confused. "Oh, shit, you're not kidding me." For some reason, his smile just seemed to get a whole lot bigger. He laughed again.

Greg laughed a little, too, even though he wasn't really wise to what had just happened. "Your Rick was nice. I just wish that he would have let me keep my other clothes," he said.

Nick shrugged. "Well, I guess that he wanted the honor of getting rid of those things, himself. He thinks that bad fashion is a personal affront to his delicate nature," he said, repeating the words that the older man had said earlier. He chuckled. "If you ask me, I think that he wanted to burn them."

"I guess...If they were really that bad..."

"Oh, they were!"

Greg laughed and rolled his eyes. "Well, anyway, thanks for buying these for me. Oh, and the haircut!" He reached up and touched his hair. He now had honey and blond highlights and that 'just rolled out of bed' look, whatever that meant.

Nick reached over and ran his hand through Greg's hair. Greg shuddered. They looked into each other's eyes. "I think it looks really good on you." They moved closer.

"You do?" Greg asked, breathlessly. Even closer, now.

Almost touching. "Yeah, I do." They both closed their eyes.


They both jumped apart.

"Hey! The light is green, man!" An angry driver yelled out of his window at Nick.

Nick growled and put the car back into gear. "Fuck, hold your horses, asshole!" He yelled. He started to drive.

Greg sat back and looked out of the passenger's side window, his face beet red. He; Greg, was just about to kiss another guy; Nick. He could feel it. He wished that impatient driver's patience had run a little longer than it did. Then, Greg would have had his first kiss. He sighed. He turned back to Nick.

"So, where're we headed?" He asked.

Nick looked back at him. "Why, to Bungalow 8, of course." His smile returned.

Greg felt a certain feeling go through him at the sort of smile that Nick gave him at that moment.


Back at the hotel...

Warrick shot up. He'd just seen a strange image in his dream, had a strange feeling, but now that he was awake, he couldn't remember what it was about. He turned his head and listened to the quiet.

He'd gotten a room right next to Greg's so that he could hear it if anyone tried to get into the boy's room. Any small noise of entry would have had him alert and awake straight away, but he hadn't heard any. He frowned in his half-sleep state. He looked back down at his wife. She was still fast asleep. Thankfully, he hadn't woken her up. He sighed and laid back down, spooning up behind Catherine. She mumbled in her sleep and put her arm around his.

Little did he know that it wasn't the sounds of entry that he should be looking for, but the sounds of a certain someone exiting.

A/N: Gah! I seem to always leave things right before we get to the club scenes, don't I? Well, I'm gonna head off to sleep anyway, 'cuz I've been up for, say 24 hours. Fo shizzy. Falls asleep on keyboard ¦- Zzzzz