Can't be helped

A/n: Still here. *Smiles* Two chapters today. I hope you all enjoy!


Nick awoke to the sound of knocking on his front door. Frowning, he checked the clock. It was almost one in the afternoon. Thinking that it must be some sort of mail or delivery service, he shrugged to himself, resigned to answering. Hugging the warmth in his arms, he dropped a small kiss to Greg’s forehead. Smiling down at the sleeping man before slowly moving out of bed. Carefully navigating his hallway, avoiding the various objects on the floor, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and called out, “One second.” And true to his word, he was at the door not a moment later. Though, he wasn’t expecting Warrick Brown to be on the other side.

“Hey, I know it’s early and all, but Tina and I got into it again. I was wondering if I could crash…” He trailed off as he walked past Nick and into the house. Something he’d done a thousand times. This time was a bit different though. He ended up tripping over a bag left by the door. A bag that seemed vaguely familiar. Green eyes glanced from the offending object to Nick, confused. Said man didn’t seem to notice, though. He was already making his way back into the bedroom to gather some sheets and a pillow. Warrick took the time to look around. Something was off here. He just couldn’t place it.

It wasn’t until Nick was cautiously walking back down the hallway that he noticed the overturned table and pictures scattered all over the hallway floor. He tilted his head in slight confusion. It looked like someone had ransacked the place. Well, no. That wasn’t right. Because the living room looked just as it always did. There were only three doors at the end of that hall, and Warrick knew it. The bathroom, the linen closet, and the bedroom… And since Nick didn’t seem all that surprised about the mess it was obvious that he’d helped in making it. Plus, there was a sizable hicky on the side of his neck.

Armed with these facts the answer came to him like a lightning bolt. “You have company don’t you? I’m sorry man. I’ll just get outta your hair…” The obviously tired man only waved him off as he set about constructing a makeshift bed. “You’re already here ‘Rick. It’s all good.” Once he finished setting up the couch he turned to his best friend. “So you wanna talk about it?” Warrick merely shrugged. There wasn’t really much to talk about. It was beginning to become routine, these fights with his wife. There was nothing new to tell. Nick had heard it all before.

But before he could voice this, Nick was already in the kitchen brewing a pot of coffee. Something was off with that too, though. Determined, he decided that it was his job as best friend to figure it out. So, he followed and stood by the fridge while the shorter male moved about. It wasn’t until Nick was handing him a cup of coffee that he realized what it was. Stokes wasn’t walking normally. He wasn’t limping or anything like that. More like he was walking stiffly. “Thanks.” The brunette merely smiled sleepily and sipped from his own cup, waiting.

A few quiet minutes later, Warrick began explaining the latest argument. It was the same really. He wasn’t home enough. He never had time for her. His job was more important to him. Nick nodded and offered advice where he could, but really, there was nothing he could offer except a friendly ear. Still, it was what friends were for, no? A half an hour later, they were in the living room, chuckling about one of the lighter moments during a recent case when something caught Warrick’s eye. It really wouldn’t have made anyone else curious. After all, it was only a piece of cloth.

What caught his interest was the fact that it definitely wasn’t Nick’s shirt. In fact, it looked to be the same shirt that one Greg Sanders had been sporting just before he’d left work not four hours prior. The sudden stop in all conversation was what probably got Nick curious. He’d followed his friend’s gaze, and almost immediately, he realized what had caused his lack of attention. Sighing lightly, he set his mug on the coffee table and moved to where the shirt lay, on the floor by the recliner. He bent and picked it up carefully, almost affectionately. A small smile touched his lips before he lifted his gaze back up. Brown orbs met and locked with green.

Neither spoke for long minutes, Warrick from shock, and Nick from sheer curiosity. Finally, the staring match was broken when Nick gazed back down at the shirt and brought it to his face. Inhaling the scent that still lingered on the garment, he sighed contentedly and raised a challenging brow to the other man. “Cat got your tongue?” Green eyes blinked before focusing on his coffee mug. “No. Just surprised. Uh… I didn’t know that you… ah…” A short bark of laughter cut off Warrick’s awkward attempt at conversation. “You never asked. This gonna be a problem for you, Brown?” A quick shake of his head had tan shoulders relaxing. Though when they’d gotten tense had gone unnoticed. “Good. I’m sorry; I just didn’t know how to tell you.” The ex-gambler set down his mug and arched a brow. “Which part, Stokes? The part about you playing for the same team, or the part where you and Sanders are… What? Together?”

That last bit was mainly a request for confirmation. It was obvious that Greg was there at that very moment, in Nick’s room. This didn’t mean that they were dating though, or that they were doing anything beyond the obvious. It wasn’t until Nick’s shoulders sagged that Warrick realized something. It seemed he didn’t quite know how to answer that question. “I… We… Look, I don’t like all men. Just him, so you don’t have to freak out about it. But we haven’t really talked about it, yet. I mean, I think we are together… but I don’t know for sure. So can you just drop it for now?” A small nod met his words and for that, he was grateful. “Good, now get some sleep. We all have work and I’m so tired I could fall asleep where I stand.”

Warrick moved to his ‘bed’ and waved to Nick, calling back. “Well, go then. Sanders might be getting cold. Can’t have that now can we?” The only response he got was a pillow tossed in his face. He laughed and kicked off his shoes before lying down. It was too funny. Everything was just a little bit different, but it all still felt the same. Maybe now he cold think up some interesting nicknames for Sanders. This could be fun. After all, opportunities like this didn’t just pop up every day.