One Step at a Time

“I can’t believe we let him talk us into this,” Jack said under his breath to Warrick as they waited for their turn to go through the metal detector.

They’d only been together as a threesome for a couple of weeks, but the ease with which they’d grown accustomed to each other’s company had made them nearly inseparable in their spare time. Of course, the sex was a big part of that, though Warrick couldn’t help occasionally feeling like a referee at a kid’s soccer game. Between their smart mouths and their willingness to try anything--especially on a dare--he felt like he should be getting paid overtime just to keep the city safe from the two of them.

But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.

“It’s just this once,” Warrick answered. “We’ll survive.”

“You promise?” he asked, and Warrick mirrored his grin.

“Promise.”

“You know, I can hear every word you’re saying,” Greg commented from his place in front of them.

“We know,” Jack said innocently. “That was the point.”

“You’ll regret being so mean when you see how much fun you’re having.”

“Let’s see if we reach that point first,” Warrick said, and Greg glared at them both.

“Look--I endure your jazz and classical crap without a word of complaint. Mostly. The least you could do is show me the same courtesy.”

“You’re right,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around Greg’s waist. “You won’t hear another word out of either of us.”

“Thank you,” Greg said, giving him a quick kiss and turning back to the front.

Jack looked at Warrick. “So, is it over yet?” At the instant tensing of Greg’s shoulders, he laughed. “Just kidding, beautiful.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that you’ll develop a sense of humor sometime during our relationship? Because you must have realized by now you’re the only one who finds you funny.”

Warrick stifled a chuckle, earning him a dirty look from Jack. “Relax, babe,” he said, slipping a finger through one of his belt loops and pulling the slender young man back until their bodies were pressed together. “You know you earned that.”

Smiling, Jack leaned his full weight against him. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’re up!” Greg bounced, good humor fully restored, and they made their way through the metal detectors and into the club proper. Warrick was pretty sure the room was filled to capacity, and then some, by the time they walked inside, and there were still a lot of people in the line behind them.

“Kind of crowded, isn’t it?” Jack said with a nervous glance around them as they were jostled from all sides. Warrick’s eyes turned suspicious at the underlying tension in his voice.

“You okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’ve seen you perform a solo in front of thousands without batting an eye, but this place has you about to snap. What’s up?”

“Let’s just say I have a fondness for open spaces and I’m severely missing them right now.”

“Greg,” Warrick said, grabbing the errant CSI by the shirt before they lost him, “we’re going to be over there.”

Greg’s eyes followed his finger to the wall where he was pointing. With one look at Jack’s wan face, he nodded. Giving them each a quick kiss, he disappeared into the throng while Warrick guided Jack over to the wall, keeping a protective hand on his back the entire time.

“I don’t think I’ve felt so old in my entire life,” Jack said to distract himself as he leaned against the wall, and Warrick couldn’t help agreeing with him. They were surrounded by a horde of college-aged students, or younger. Not usually the kind of crowd he’d find at the symphony or The Blue Note.

“At least you fit in better than I do. You’re a good seven years younger than I am.”

“Yeah, but look at Greg--he makes even me feel ancient, and he’s two years older.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Warrick said, smiling at the enthusiastic bounding of their lover, who was making instant friends with those around him while slowly working his way towards the front of the stage, “he makes the entire lab feel like grandparents--except for maybe Nick, who’s the only one who really gets him. Of course, that’s really changed in the past couple of years. Now he’s becoming just like the rest of us. We don’t get to see this side of him much anymore.”

“Why not? What happened?”

“He got blown up.”

“He what?!” Jack didn’t know what horrified him more--that Greg had been blown up, or that Warrick spoke of it so casually.

“It happened about four years ago. There was an accident in the lab, an explosion that put Greg through a window and burned him up pretty badly.”

“The scars on his back,” Jack said with sudden understanding, and Warrick nodded.

“After that, the free-spirited, fun-loving Greg we’d gotten used to started to fade. He grew more serious, began training as a CSI, and moved away from lab work.”

“But he’s okay now, right? I mean, he’s never told me any of this. I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.”

Warrick chuckled, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and kissing his curls. “He’s fine. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“All right, I’ll take your word for it,” Jack grumbled, though Warrick noticed he renewed his efforts to keep a watchful eye on Greg.

The crowd started to cheer as the lights lowered and the members of Kasabian began to trickle onto the stage. Warrick and Jack waited with a sense of dread as the band began to play, exchanging mutual looks of surprise to discover that not only did the music have a viable tune, but that the lead could actually sing. Slowly, they relaxed and began enjoying themselves. They’d lost sight of Greg, his blond head one of dozens fighting for dominance in front of the stage, but they didn’t worry about him too much.

Jack was astonished when he found an hour had passed without him wanting to head to the nearest exit, either from the music or the ever-tightening space. He was just considering giving Greg’s music more of a chance in the future when he saw their lover being lifted up above the heads of the crowd.

“Oh no, he’s not,” Warrick growled darkly as he watched Greg’s body surf across the room. They’d already seen a dozen kids try to crowd surf, each attempt ending in a painful fashion. Surely Greg wasn’t stupid enough to try it.

“Oh yes, he is,” Jack said, his voice equally dark. “What the hell is he thinking? If he breaks his neck, I swear to god--Greg!” He shouted in panic as their lover’s body was dropped head-first towards the floor, but found even his fear for Greg couldn’t overcome his fear of the crowd, and his feet were frozen to the floor. “Warrick!”

“I’m on it--stay here.”

Jack nodded dumbly, his eyes frantically searching the crowd for a familiar messy blond head. Warrick shoved his way over to the spot where Greg had gone down, pushing aside anyone who got in his way. Jack saw him stop, a confused look on his face as he came up empty. Jack caught sight of another body being lifted up out of the corner of his eye and began pointing towards Warrick’s left.

“Over there!” he shouted, knowing he didn’t have a snowball’s chance of being heard, but Warrick understood. The tall man spotted the blond head as it made another journey across the sea of bodies and again shoved his way through the audience until he managed to grab onto Greg’s foot and pulled him back down to earth. With a bruising hold on his arm, he dragged Greg over to the wall where Jack was waiting.

“What?” Greg asked, puzzled, as Jack hugged him tight enough that the air was almost squeezed out of him.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Warrick demanded.

“We saw you fall!” Jack said, relief quickly turning to anger.

“Are you talking about the crowd surfing?” he asked, then started to laugh. “That’s what this is about? Guys, I’ve done it hundreds of times and I’m still here. Yeah, you fall, but you just get back up and do it all over again. It’s part of the fun!”

“That’s exactly the kind of fun you’re not allowed to have while we’re watching! You scared the shit out of me!” Jack shouted, and when Greg turned to Warrick for support, sighed to see the same anger on his fellow CSI’s face.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I promise, no more crowd surfing. Now can I go back and enjoy what’s left of the show?”

Warrick and Jack both nodded and with a look expressing exactly what he thought of their mother hen routine, Greg made his way back to the front of the stage.

“He’s going to be pissed at us for the rest of the week,” Warrick said.

“So long as I don’t have to watch him take another head-dive towards the floor, it’s worth it.”

Though he secretly regretted the loss of his younger self who would have been out there crowd surfing with Greg, Warrick whole-heartedly agreed. What was it with his friends trying to get themselves killed pulling shit like this? Didn’t they have enough to contend with in their daily lives without having to go out and find new ways to end up in the hospital? He never thought he’d say this, but for once he wished they’d just be like Grissom and play with bugs to let off steam.

Fortunately, everyone’s feet remained pointed in the right direction for the rest of the show, which ended with two encores and the crowd screaming itself hoarse. Greg was still annoyed enough not to speak to them on the drive home, but that quickly faded when it was time for the three of them to fall into bed.

“I’m sorry I frightened you,” a sated Greg said once the goodnight kisses had been shared and they were all tucked in. “But Jack, you should have told us about your claustrophobia--I never would have dragged you there if I’d known.”

“That’s why I didn’t say anything. I’m not about to let it limit the things we do together. Besides, I had fun.”

Greg turned over to look at him. “You did?”

“Right until you took a nosedive towards the floor, yeah.”

“What about you, ‘Rick? Did you have fun?”

“No comment,” he answered, sensing where this was going.

“You did have fun! This is great!” Greg said, sitting up. “Do you know how many bands go through Vegas every month? Do you know how many I missed because I was spending time with you? Now that I know you like my music--”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Warrick interrupted.

“Yeah yeah yeah, but at least I know now we can do more things that I like.”

“You always could,” Jack said. “You only had to ask.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“We have got to start talking more,” Greg said, lying back down.

“Or maybe just try to communicate outside the bedroom,” Warrick said wryly.

“I don’t know,” Jack teased, “I may not like either of you outside the bedroom.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t like you, but I have to work with Warrick, so at least I’ve learned to tolerate him.”

“I’m seriously considering kicking both of you out of this bed,” Warrick growled.

“I have an idea,” Jack said, hoping they didn’t respond too negatively since what he was about to propose was the first step to a truly serious relationship. “Why don’t we agree to sit down and have at least one meal together every week? Dinner, lunch, breakfast, whatever works best with our schedules. That way, we can have a chance to talk for real.”

“I don’t want you losing sleep just because of our hours,” Greg said, and Jack wrapped an arm around his waist.

“I don’t mind. I get to spend so little time with you as it is, I’m looking forward to it. Warrick?”

“It’s up to you,” he said, leaning up on his arm to meet Jack’s eyes. “You’re the one who has to drag his butt out of bed every morning.”

“Just give me a call to let me know you’re on your way, and I’ll be ready.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Great,” he smiled, and Warrick found himself smiling back.

Yeah, it was pretty great, he thought as they drifted off to sleep. Jack, Greg, the three of them together, it was all great. It was the strangest thing to ever happen to him, but he was starting to think this could work.

“I’m feeling smothered,” Greg said a few minutes later. “I think we should break up.”

If Warrick hadn’t heard the grin in the younger man’s voice, he might have done something he would regret. Instead, he snatched the pillow from beneath the blond head and hit him with it. “Good night, Greg.”

Greg’s response was lost in the pillow.