It had started backwards. David was standing by the bar in Oxygen, one of the multitude of gay bars that littered this part of the strip. It was what he liked to think of as a mid-range bar, somewhere between those that specialised in screaming queens and inhibited closet cases. He stood by the bar because he was following his personal rule of post shift drinking; if you got to the bar at five a.m. it was your duty to obtain the same level of drunkenness as the other patrons as quickly as possible. Besides, he was in here to get laid and that was always difficult to do when he was more sober than his partner, especially when the two of them wanted to know as little about each other as possible. So he stood by the bar and drank vodka as unadulterated as he could stand, trying to reach the familiar buzz that let him approach strangers.

He'd probably been looking in his direction for a good five minutes before he saw him. His eyes had registered something familiar but had slid over the figure to watch a half hearted scuffle breaking out in the corner, the participants a little too drunk to actually make contact with each other. The other man had turned to watch them also and it was only when the excitement died down that he turned his head back and for a moment, his eyes met David's. There was no denying the recognition now, only the consequences. They both looked down into their drinks and for a casual observer it must have looked almost comical. David wasn't sure what the etiquette was in this situation, did he go over? Move away? Close his eyes and hope he opened them in a different bar altogether? He settled for staring into his drink, occasionally flicking glances across the bar. A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the chair had been vacated, only to be replaced by a gasp and a slightly undignified choking fit when he was suddenly tapped on the shoulder.

"Hey."

"Hello." They were eyeing each other warily, probably waiting for the first one to pull the 'just here with friends' excuse. In fact that had sprung to David's mind as being the most obvious reason for him being here, but now he thought about it he realised that a man with their friends didn't drink alone at the bar.

"You here to pick up?" The question led to his second undignified choking fit of the evening. Greg helpfully slapped him on the back a few times. "'Cause I never thought of you as the type." David caught his breath enough to raise his eyebrows.

"Gay?"

"No, into anonymous sex. Would have thought it was a bit too much like human contact."

"Even guys like me have sex Sanders." David was doing his best to ignore how close to the target that had been. He looked ruefully around the bar. "Occasionally." He objected to Greg's apparent confidence in this conversation, it made him feel intimidated and he lashed out instinctively. "Would have thought it was a little queer for your taste though." Greg shrugged, completely unfazed.

"I like all sorts." He leant over and caught the barman's eye, pointing to David's drink and his own. He took a sip and asked suddenly; "fancy some tension relief sex?" Choking fit number three almost had David doubled over.

"With you?" He managed at last. Greg shrugged.

"I know you. I'm pretty sure you're clean and I'm unlikely to call out the wrong name." David was blinking quickly as his brain tried to keep up with what had clearly become a surreal universe. "Besides, you can drive me to work the morning after." His fingers were white where he gripped the glass but he forced them to relax.

"I try to avoid sleeping with guys who are still figuring out what they're in to." That much was true, but Greg just grinned.

"I'm not trying this out on mail order." He said, "I'm committed to bi." David shook his head.

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard." Greg laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the automatic flinch.

"What can I say, I'm a master." The hand on his shoulder was joined by another and before he had really registered what was happening Greg was standing behind him, his body warm against his back and his breath uncomfortably close to his ear. "Aren't you even curious?" He whispered. David straightened his spine but made no other movement.

"I still prefer my sex anonymous." He muttered, trying to ignore the sensation of breath on the back of his neck. He heard Greg snort softly with laughter.

"Fine." One of his hands reached across David's line of vision and down to his own, gripping one of his hands firmly. "Hi, I'm George." He shook David's hand and then released it. "Would you like to come back to mine?" David half turned to face him, part of his mind having apparently made the decision without consulting the rest of it.

"Daniel." He said, looking Greg fully in the eyes for the first time. "And, sure."

The morning brought the dark. David's morning after routine did not usually have to deal with darkness, unless he left really early or stayed really late. But Greg was another veteran of the graveyard shift and his blackout curtains were as good as David's own. So he fumbled for a few minutes until he found a pair of jeans that felt like his and snagged his car keys out of the pocket to be sure. The car was still at the bar, so it would be a taxi back there first. A memory stirred, something to do with driving Greg into work, but he shook his head to clear it and made sure he was dressed enough to go out in public. He had to treat this like any other one night stand, which meant getting out of here before Greg woke up, getting home and showering the vague guilt out of his system. He closed the door softly as he left the room, preparing himself for stepping out into the dazzling daylight. He was willing it to feel like any other one night stand as he left the building, repeating the oft quoted mantra of sex just being sex as he stepped off the kerb and headed home.


It had been a week and they had looked each other in the eye precisely six times. Greg wasn't even sure why he was keeping count; he'd started it with vague irritation and had continued with an increasingly sinking feeling. It wasn't as if they hadn't spoken, they'd talked plenty of times about work, even batted some gentle insults around. But somehow David was always facing a machine or Greg had his nose in a folder and their eyes never met. He could catalogue the six occasions they had made eye contact, grade them in terms of the closed off look that had greeted him, the painfully well guarded façade he had only just begun to recognise. You noticed a lot more about someone's eyes after you'd looked into them in the middle of an orgasm.

He hadn't yet decided if last week was a bad idea he was putting down to drink and exhaustion or curiosity and sexual frustration, but he had a horrible feeling he had no excuse at all. He still wasn't sure where the thought process had started, if he had known what he was going to do before he went over there. All he really knew is that it had seemed like a great idea at the time. There had at least been good sex at the end of it. Fantastic sex really, a lot better than he had expected. He hadn't thought David would be so experienced, but when he tried to tell him that what started out in his head as a compliment came out sounding like an insult. Since then he'd pretty much avoided the subject completely, but it itched between his shoulder blades and made him take the long way around the lab. He knew that he could see David now, if he looked across the room through the glass panelling. An earlier glance had shown him that he was bent over the microscope, lips pursed. Lips were another odd thing Greg thought, unconsciously lifting his hand to touch his own. David wouldn't let him kiss him, even while they fucked. He'd muttered something about false attachments and Greg hadn't pressed him, partly because it wasn't his business and mostly because the hand making deliberate progress up his thigh had made it pretty hard to think. It wouldn't have occurred to him to hold anything back like that, even from a one night stand, but David was David. The more he thought about it now though, the more he realised it had slightly unnerved him.

"Greg?" His train of thought was abruptly broken by Sara's voice.

"Yeah?" He turned to face her, carefully shutting his last thoughts down. She waved a slip of paper at him.

"We've got a case at last. One hit and run and about fifty witnesses." She held out his jacket to him. "This could take a while."

"How does a hit and run get fifty witnesses?" Greg asked as he shrugged his jacket on.

"You crash the car through a restaurant window." Sara replied and held the door open for him.


"Midnight blue." The call echoed down the hall and Greg turned round to see Hodges leaning on the door to his lab, half smirking.

"Huh?"

"Your paint, from the glass shards." He beckoned him closer. "Midnight blue, General Motors paint." Greg retraced his steps back to the lab, watching Hodges warily, as if he was about to disappear. Some part of his brain noted that when it was work related he still called him Hodges, even in his head.

"Does it help with make and model?" He asked as he stepped inside. Hodges shrugged.

"Not really, could be any one of half a dozen models made in the last five years." He gestured to the computer. "There's a list in there." Greg sat down in front of the monitor and studied it for a few minutes before he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He looked over to Hodges and found him playing with a sample bottle.

"You're watching me." He said, trying to keep the odd tone from his voice.

"It helps me not trip over you." Hodges replied, but turned away. Greg could feel the irritation of a night spent with thirty elderly women who all wanted him to be their grandson begin to boil over.

"Are we just going to keep avoiding each other?" He asked suddenly, pushing back from the computer with a sigh. David looked round the small room, then at the five feet that separated them and raised his eyebrows.

"If you're avoiding me, you're really bad at it." He said calmly.

"You know what I mean." David turned to press a few keys on the GC-MS, waited for the first vial to pick up, then slowly turned back to face him.

"Fine." He moved closer to Greg, leaning down so his breath tickled his ear. "It was just sex." He murmured.

"Then you wouldn't mind doing it again." It was out of Greg's mouth before he even knew it was coming. David's eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed.

"Just sex?" He asked, keeping his voice soft. Greg nodded.

"This is a high stress job." He replied. David was still looking at him as if he expected him to burst out laughing any second, but after a few moments of silence he shrugged with what Greg was certain was false nonchalance.

"Saves money on alcohol I guess." He said and turned back to the machine. Greg leapt off the stool and slid past him towards the door.

"Tonight?" He asked as he left. David laughed shortly.

"The time it's going to take you to find that car? I doubt it." He said.


He was right. It wasn't that night, or the next, or even the one after that. But it happened, again and again until finally David had given up tallying each encounter. He was at Greg's, because that was where they always went, but he had gotten good enough with the layout that he no longer sported a collection of multicoloured bruises on his shins and he was bold enough to take a shower before he left. When he emerged from the bathroom Greg was blinking at him sleepily.

"Is it time already?" He asked, his voice thick.

"Not yet." David sat on the edge of the bed, his hair still dripping onto his neck. "I'm just going home." Greg reached out a hand to him.

"You can stay." He said, stroking David's arm. David tangled their fingers together, partly just to stop the movement.

"I need clothes. And food." He found himself making excuses, even though he didn't need to. This was the routine.

"Ok." Greg let his hand go and lay back, shielding his eyes. "Turn the light off when you go." He had gathered his things and was almost at the door when Greg spoke again. "David?" His voice was much softer; he was clearly drifting off to sleep again.

"Yeah?" He moved closer to hear what Greg was saying.

"Kiss me." He muttered. David started for a second, then leant over and kissed him gently on the forehead, rising swiftly and heading for the door. He was already through it when Greg murmured. "That's not what I meant."


There would be periods of weeks when they wouldn't go near each other and every time David wondered if it was ending. He would sometimes catch Greg outside his lab at those times, but always walking away by the time he saw him. So he would square his shoulders and carry on, assuming that this time Greg had found another solution to whatever problem it was that kept him coming back. Then just as suddenly as it stopped it would start again, he would be waiting by his locker or at the car, only once had he got as far as the door of Oxygen before Greg had found him. He wondered if he fucked other people in the gaps, but the idea made him uncomfortable so he shied away from it. Maybe Greg just didn't like it becoming too routine, or maybe he himself was sending out some involuntary signal to make him leave. It was at the end of the longest lull yet that David found him loitering outside his lab when his shift finished, hopping nervously from foot to foot.

"Sanders." He said, in case it was business.

"Dave." It clearly wasn't. Greg inclined his head slightly and they walked together, unconsciously synchronising. Greg was leading them down the almost deserted back hall, towards the fire exit and for an uncomfortable moment David wondered if he had suddenly developed an appetite for al fresco sex. They weren't talking, but that wasn't unusual, the part before they reached the safety of Greg's apartment was always the most awkward. If only they'd been heading for the parking lot, this would have all made sense. Finally they reached the door and Greg opened it, motioning him through. He gave him a quizzical look but didn't say a word. It was a close, sticky night and the air tasted of rain to come. Greg was standing next to him and together they surveyed the blinking lights. Finally Greg spoke.

"Why don't you ever kiss me?" David looked startled and turned to face him but Greg kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. A hundred sarcastic answers rose to David's lips and just as quickly fell away.

"It makes things complicated." He replied, training his eyes back on the distant lights.

"No it doesn't." Greg said, a peevish note in his voice. David sighed.

"If it didn't make things complicated, it wouldn't bother you that I don't." Greg considered this for a moment.

"It's just a kiss." He said. David snorted slightly but said nothing. Suddenly Greg reached round and grabbed the fabric of his shirt, pulling them together. His lips were softer than David had thought possible, although they were applied to his own more with anger than technique. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon and his tongue was everywhere. Once he was sure David was not going to pull away his hands moved from his shirt to the back of his neck and into his hair, each sensation so acute it was almost painful. Finally Greg pulled away. He leant forward to whisper in David's ear.

"See, just a kiss." He said. David's eyes were closed and he kept them so even when the banging of the fire exit door announced Greg's departure. His hands flexed at his sides but he made no other movement and remained there, as still as a statue, until the rain began to fall.

He had been worried that he would be angry. Dealing with frustration had never been Greg's strong point, but he was fairly sure that even by his standards last night's little escapade had been a doozy. When he came into the work he was expecting anger, rage even. He thought it might have ended things permanently, or at least produced a knock-down drag out fight that would have explosively cleared the air. He could have coped with any of these things, but Dave had merely looked at him a little sadly and with a hint of fear, until Greg had been glad to get a case just to get him out of the lab. Now he was sketching a crime scene with the knowledge that every marker was an extra twenty minutes on his day and a sinking feeling every time Warrick or Nick mentioned trace evidence. He got back to the lab and handed off to every other technician first, walking past David's lab three times before he finally went in.

"I've got the trace from Nick's crime scene." He said, David didn't turn round from what he was doing, just waved a hand in the general direction of the bench.

"Just put it on the pile. Or a pile." He adjusted something and Greg could see him smiling at the microscope. "And sign it into the log." He said.

"Thanks Dave." As he said it something tickled at the back of Greg's mind but he ignored it, too intent on getting out of there. David's voice had sounded controlled but not quite real and he didn't want to face that again tonight.

By the time he was going home Greg's mind had reached the mental level of merely making sure all four limbs could remember how to walk and drive. His head was down and his hand was fiddling with his car keys when he finally noticed the shoes next to his vehicle. His eyes travelled up over legs and a torso and finally David standing next to his car with his arms folded.

"You're avoiding me." He said. Greg looked at him, irritated.

"No, I've just been busy. Contrary to your own opinion, the whole lab doesn't revolve around you."

"Mm-hmm. And that would be why you walked past my lab three times before coming in." He uncrossed his arms and dropped them to his sides. Greg looked at him warily, he could see the anger in his eyes and it both reassured and frightened him. David took two sudden steps forward and caught Greg in a kiss before he had time to even think of moving away. The metal of the car was cold against his back and Greg felt the twin explosions of fireworks that went off behind his eyes. Their hands were everywhere this time, David's hand had wormed its way in to rest on the bare skin of his back and Greg made a noise he was embarrassed to admit was probably a whimper. Then as suddenly as it appeared the contact was gone and David was standing before him, flushed and smiling. The smile faded as he leant closer. Greg's hands reached for him but he batted them away.

"Just a kiss. Get over it." He muttered in his ear before turning on his heel to leave. Greg paused for a moment then started after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back towards the car. "What are you doing?" David asked, his voice worried. Greg just smiled at him and waited until he was inside and safely strapped in before responding.

"Getting over it." He said as he started the engine.


This summer was more vicious than any other that David could remember. Heat seemed to visibly seep through the windows and the air conditioner in Greg's apartment whined occasionally like an exhausted puppy. It also pretty much persisted in blowing hot air around in playful currents. David realised that he finally knew what it would be like to be roasted in a fan assisted oven. It would be cooler at his place, his air conditioner worked for a start, but he wasn't sure how much further down this twisted road that suggestion would take them.

'Them' was a funny word. He'd used it first out loud, much too his irritation, but then Greg had been the first to use 'us' so he supposed they were relatively even. He mostly tried not to think too much about it, or about anything else that resided in that particular corner of his mind. At the moment it was too hot to think about anything anyway, so he just stayed as still as he could, naked and spread out on the bed, grimly counting down the hours until they could go to work. There was another one; 'they' had snuck into his vocabulary when he wasn't looking, about the same time as 'us' and 'them'. Greg was sleeping. David wasn't quite sure how he could manage it, but he'd learnt over time that Greg could sleep through almost anything. It felt slightly strange to watch him sleep, almost like trespassing, but Greg had made it clear he thought David's habit of going home in the day was stupid, so here he stayed. There was water in the kitchen, but it was a long way away and would inevitably involve washing a mug or twelve. So here he would stay watching the digital clock on one side, Greg on the other, waiting. He was always waiting these days.

Greg finally woke up five minutes before the alarm went off. He lifted his head sleepily, leaning on one arm and looking down at David.

"Hey." He said softly.

"Hello." David would have moved out of his gaze but he couldn't, for one thing he was fairly sure he was stuck to the bed by now.

"How long have you been awake?" Greg asked, stretching his arms to the headboard. David glanced at the clock.

"Four, maybe five hours?" Greg stopped stretching and looked at him.

"You're kidding." David shook his head. "Too hot?" He just raised his eyebrows and Greg dropped his gaze, embarrassed.

"My air conditioner works." The words marched out of his mouth before he could stop them. That was happening more and more recently, it was unnerving.

"Let's go to your place then." The rest of Greg's sentence was cut-off by the alarm. He unceremoniously smacked it and it fell silent. "Before you become a danger to traffic." He finished. David wondered if the panic impulse rocketing around his brain showed in his eyes, because Greg started speaking again a little too quickly. "After work." He said dragging himself out of bed whilst David was still staring after him, willing his brain and mouth to co-operate again. "And I'll drive us in." Greg disappeared into the bathroom. David studied the ceiling for a few minutes more, trying to work out what had just happened.

He wasn't quite sure if he wanted the shift to go quickly or slowly. Part of Greg's brain was telling him that David's house was just another bed to fuck in, but he couldn't deny that it felt more important than that, as if he'd breached some defence he hadn't even known he was battering at. Dave just looked faintly bewildered, as if he was still catching up with current events. Occasionally he would shoot Greg nervous glances when he thought he wasn't looking. The concept of this being a big deal hadn't even occurred to Greg until he'd seen David's eyes. He had to remind himself that he hadn't pushed this issue like he had the kissing thing; this one had been Dave's idea all the way. However by the time he had reached the parking lot at the end of his shift, with David nowhere to be found in the lab, he was convinced he had changed his mind. It wasn't until he was nearly at his car that he saw David standing next to it.

"Sorry." He said as he climbed in. "I was handing off some calibration data. I just came straight down here." It was a suspiciously reasonable explanation, but Greg said nothing, just started the car and looked at him.

"What?" David asked.

"Dave, where am I going?" He'd seen the same look on frightened rabbits.

"Oh yeah, that." David breathed out long and hard and for a rare moment, looked straight into his eyes. "Left out of here." He said and settled back into his seat.

He wasn't surprised by how clean Dave's place was, but he was by the amount of stuff in it. He'd always imagined it to be sparse; he didn't seem to be the kind of guy who would carry possessions with him. But the walls had pictures on them, photographs and paintings that Greg didn't recognise, real paintings where he could see the marks of the brushes if he stood close. There were ornaments and keepsakes and a battered piano that took up most of one wall. He'd known about the cat but hadn't expected it to wind around his legs before he had even made it through the door. He had always assumed David had kept them away from here because he didn't want them to see his life was empty, now he was beginning to think the opposite was true. This place was like walking in a map of his head, a maze of a life he hadn't even suspected. He felt suddenly, irrationally guilty. David had chosen to keep this place secret after all, yet he felt ashamed of a judgement he had never voiced.

David had taken him to bed full of promises but had fallen asleep before he fulfilled a single one of them. Greg didn't mind, the room was pleasantly cool, he hadn't lied about the air conditioner. He looked at the shapes in the darkness, trying to remember what they were from the brief glances he had had earlier. It was comfortably familiar, in a way that made no sense. He had never been here before, yet he felt vaguely like he was returning to somewhere he knew well. Sleep was making his thoughts fuzzy and he abandoned them and concentrated on the cool and the warmth instead, revelling in a strange new kind of reassurance.


Since then, it was nearly always David's. His apparent resistance had evaporated like spring dew and Greg found himself on first name terms with the cat and the paintings, slightly confused but content with the sudden openness. He knew where the glasses lived, how to wrestle the temperamental garage door and also that there was no point ever doing so, because David always had some project in there with half it's cylinder block balanced on the workbench. He knew there was music in the piano stool because he had peeked when David wasn't looking and he knew there was more music and a violin case in the closet, although when he asked David said it was some relic of school he had never quite managed to shake off. He knew enough to also know that eventually, inevitably, there was another conversation they were going to have to have, although the thought of it tied his stomach in uncomfortable knots.

When David appeared at his shoulder one evening with a familiar key dangling from his hand Greg had felt his insides drop through the floor. They were alone in the locker room but David still spoke softly and glanced behind him first.

"I've got to go away for a few days." He said, dropping the key into Greg's hand. "Could you feed Kobe for me?" Greg was still staring at the key but forced his eyes upwards.

"Sure." He said automatically. "Uh… Where are you going?" David was looking at him oddly.

"I had a paper accepted at a methods conference in New York." He smiled a little bitterly. "Well, it has Ecklie's name on it too but since I did all the work, I get to present."

"Does Ecklie understand the work?" Greg asked. David gave a short burst of laughter and shook his head. Greg's brain was working better now; the brief insane notion that had crossed his mind when he saw the key had faded.

"When do you go?"

"I'm flying Sunday morning." David said. "Apparently they had a last minute slot to fill and I was top of the reserve speakers list." He looked at his watch. "Which gives me six days to write a presentation, explain it to Ecklie, submit it and not make an ass of myself."

"You'll be fine." Greg responded.

"Just don't bring me too much evidence." David muttered. He walked towards the door but turned back. "And don't overfeed my cat." He said. A thought suddenly struck Greg.

"Hey, if you're going in six days, don't you need the key 'til then?" He asked. David shrugged.

"It's the spare. And I thought you could get some practise in." He was gone before Greg's brain could deliver a response.


"The trace tech just smiled at me." Catherine complained as she entered the break room.

"So what?" Nick asked, looking at her over the top of his newspaper. "He's a nice guy."

"I know" Catherine flopped down into a chair. "Is it wrong that I find that slightly unnerving?" Nick laughed and returned to his paper. "When is Hodges back anyway? He's going to have a fit when he sees what the temp has done to the lab."

"He flies in tonight." Greg answered without looking up from his notes, his voice carefully neutral. Last night he had completely given up wrestling the monster in the pit of his stomach and had slept in David's bed.

"Well as long as I don't have to be around to hear it." Nick said from behind his paper. Greg concentrated on keeping his hands still, watching the clock out of the corner of his eye. He knew what he had to do when Dave got home, knew it had to be done quickly before he lost momentum. But he still wasn't looking forward to it.

David was surprised to see his lights on whilst he paid the cab driver. But he figured any burglar was going to be mightily disappointed and assumed therefore that it was probably Greg. That was a thought that opened up a whole other realm of possibilities and he approached the door with trepidation.

"Hello?" He called as he opened the door. Kobe didn't run to greet him and walking into the living room he found out why. She was sitting in Greg's lap, half asleep as he scratched her ears in an idle fashion.

"You're home." Greg said.

"You're here." David replied. He let go of the suitcase and sat down opposite Greg, his face neutral.

"We need to talk." David sighed.

"Starting on a cliché, that can't be good."

"Just don't." Greg's voice had an odd tone, as if he were strangling the words and David fell silent. "I missed you." He said. David shrugged.

"I'm easily missed." Greg made an annoyed sound.

"I mean it." He said, irritated. "I really missed you. I slept in your bed because I missed you so damn much. I sat in this chair and petted your cat instead of going out. I…" He paused, that strange strangled tone appearing again. "I missed you." David was nonplussed but felt he had to say something.

"It was only five days." That probably wasn't the something in question. Greg stood up, frustrated. He whipped round and asked him suddenly.

"What the fuck are we doing?" David stared back at him. 'Talking, apparently' was the first answer that came to mind but he didn't speak. Finally he looked down, away from Greg's eyes.

"I don't know." He said to the floor. He heard him breathe out in a long sigh and finally risked looking up.

"Me neither." He said.

"You started it." David replied, but there was no malice in it. He was surprised to hear his voice sound so tired.

"Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about an eight month one night stand at the time." Greg smiled but it came out as a grimace.

"Is that what we're doing?" David asked. Greg came and sat next to him, resting his head in his hands.

"No." He looked up at David. "You were right about the kissing." He couldn't manage smug so he just nodded. Finally Greg sat back, impacting heavily into the couch cushions. He reached out, interlacing his fingers with David's and then staring at their joined hands. "We can't keep doing this. I can't keep doing this." David nodded again, keeping his eyes turned away. "So do we stop? Or do we go on?" David's head whipped round.

"Go on?" He asked with a new note in his voice. Greg used his other hand to slide around David's neck, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"I don't think I want to stop." He said. David's eyes shone like sunlight after the storm.

"Then we go on." He said. Greg smiled, feeling lighter than he had for months.

"Which way?" He asked. David smiled properly, genuinely, and gestured with their joined hands towards the bedroom.

"That way." He said.

By the time they woke up the weather had finally broken and the fury of a desert thunderstorm raged about them. They'd obviously failed to close the door properly because the cat was in with them, cowering under Greg's arm. David grumbled and tried to eject her but Greg stopped him. The silence was comfortable until Greg suddenly broke it by laughing.

"What?" David asked, still slightly sleepy.

"I was just thinking." Greg said, David groaned.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Greg smiled.

"I was just thinking," he repeated, "that we kinda reversed into this."

"What?"

"This." He gestured vaguely between them. "First we had sex, then we kissed, and then we talked."

"Oh." David shrugged. "Well it worked." He said, turning over. Greg grinned and stroked the back of his neck, wondering how far into a relationship you had to be before it was reasonable to swat your sarcastic boyfriend. The thought gave him a strange little thrill and he enjoyed it until David spoke again.

"It is funny though." He said, turning over again.

"What is?" Greg was looking into his eyes, a new found privilege he was enjoying greatly.

"I always assumed you'd make a beeping noise when you backed up like that." Greg did swat him that time, but there was love in it.