Beginnings
{ PG | Greg/Nick }
written for Pru
*
It’s not like people knew who he was, before. Greg doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it. Well, of course he does, but he’s really trying hard not to.
When the dead hookers started showing up in the morgue, Greg couldn’t exactly ignore it. Forget it. The way sweaty palms had touched him; the way his skin would be bruised for days.
—-
Las Vegas would eat you alive if you weren’t careful, and Greg had been a naïve little nerd who couldn’t find a job and hadn’t wanted to worry his parents by asking for money. So his neighbour, the one he thought might be a transvestite, had taken him to a club, shown him the back room, and Greg had made some dirty money that night, but he could pay his rent and fill his fridge, so he figured it was worth it.
Eventually, he got so far in that he forgot he was supposed to be finding a lab to work in and busied himself with scoring more drugs and sucking more dicks.
Enter Nick Stokes: crime scene investigator, Texan charmer, sexy as all hell. The robbery had happened just a block from Greg’s usual haunt so it was easy to find excuses to mill about, watching Nick work, watching the flex of his muscles and the way his jeans rode low on his hips.
Nick noticed him watching and came over.
“Were you around last night?” Nick asked.
Greg grinned. “I’m around most nights, yeah.”
“Did you see or hear anything strange?”
“I might’ve,” Greg shrugged, “but I see and hear a lot of strange things. It might not be what you’re looking for.”
Nick finally looked at Greg, really looked, from head to toe and back again.
“Well, if you happen to remember anything, Mr…”
“Sanders. Greg Sanders.”
“If you remember anything, Greg, give the crime lab a call.” Nick scribbled a number on a business card and offered it to him.
Greg took the card, noted the name on the front and flipped it over. “And this number? When should I call that?”
Nick tapped the card. “That’s my cell number, in case you remember something and the lab is closed.”
“And what happens if I call it and I don’t remember anything.”
Nick just smiled a little and shook his head, went back to work.
That night, the card fell out of Greg’s pocket onto his bedroom floor and he palmed it absently. Las Vegas Crime Lab.
Greg wondered if maybe they needed a chem major.