One Step at a Time

“Hey man,” Nick said, grinning as Warrick joined him at the pool table. “You know, you didn’t have to get dressed up for me.”

“Ha ha,” Warrick said, placing his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie. He pulled the constricting noose over his head and left it with the jacket, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt. “Man, am I glad to be rid of those. Why can’t the symphony be like going to a club? Why does it have to be like going to court?”

“Because dressing casually might make it fun, assuming there’s fun to be had. Must be--otherwise, how would you have gotten those hickeys on your neck?”

Damn. He’d forgotten about those. Swallowing hard, he resisted the urge to button his shirt back up.

“First round is on me,” Warrick said, clumsily avoiding the question in Nick’s eyes. He went over to the bar and returned with a pitcher and two glasses.

“Going all out tonight, aren’t you?” Nick asked, accepting a full glass from Warrick.

“Hey, we just got paid. Enjoy it while you can,” he said, taking a drink from his own glass before setting it down on the table off to the side. “Who’s breaking?”

The two men looked at each other and held out their fists.

“One, two, three,” they said simultaneously then looked at their outstretched hands. Nick had paper, Warrick scissors.

“That’s the way it should be,” he grinned and picked up a cue. He aimed and the ball flew across the green, hitting the others with a sharp crack. “Solids.”

“You got lucky, that’s all,” Nick said, leaning against the table and drinking.

“Skill, baby, it’s pure skill.” Warrick walked around the table and lined up the cue for his next shot.

“Oh, so I’m ‘baby’ now?”

“You wish,” Warrick said, and nailed the next shot. “Like I said, skill.”

“I still say luck,” Nick said and cheered when Warrick’s next move ended in a scratch. “Finally! Hope you enjoyed that. It’s the last you’ll see of the table this game.”

“Only because you won’t shut up and hit the damn ball.”

“You’re gonna wish I’d just kept talking when you see how bad you lose.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to see that.”

“Well, you’ve got about twenty more minutes, and then I’ll wipe the floor with you.”

Warrick chuckled. He didn’t know what Greg was talking about. It was just like old times, he and Nick goofing around and having fun without any of the stilted conversation or anxious glancing over his shoulder that had happened during those first few weeks after Nick’s return. They were fine. Everything was fine.

Three games and three and a half pitchers later, Warrick was under the distinct impression that Nick was looking at him funny. Gone were the smiles and easy humor, replaced instead by an expression that made Nick look like he had something stuck in his throat and was having a hard time getting it out.

After winning their fourth game and tying the score, he set down his cue and turned to his friend. “You all right there, Nicky?”

“What? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve had this funny look on your face for the past twenty minutes now, and I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Nick met his eyes and took a deep breath. Just as he was sure Nick was about to speak, the Texan broke eye contact and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” He offered a weak smile. “Just goes to show listening to Greg is always a bad idea.”

Warrick’s eyes narrowed as the pieces started to fall into place. “Greg, huh?” The kid was gonna be in deep when he got home, and no amount of protection from Jack was going to help him.

“I know, it was stupid. Listen, I should probably head out. It’s been a while since I’ve had this much to drink and I think I need to stop while I’m still standing.”

“Yeah. . . that’s probably a good idea. Come on,” he said, forcing himself to forget about Greg for a moment in his sudden concern for Nick--he never should have let them order those last two pitchers. “We can split a cab.”

“Why?” Nick frowned. “We live in opposite directions.”

Which Warrick would have realized if he’d been thinking of his apartment, but instead he’d been thinking of Jack’s. He was amazed at how quickly he’d been able to adapt to the idea of Jack’s house as home. These days, he only saw his own place to pick up mail or if he just needed a few minutes to himself.

“I’m willing to shell out a few extra bucks to make sure you get home all right,” he said and was surprised to see Nick’s face turn red with anger.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Nick said--almost shouted, and Warrick could only stare at him.

“What?”

“This! This overprotective bullshit you’ve been pulling lately.”

“Nick, man, what the hell are you talking about?” Warrick demanded--he’d never seen Nick this angry at him before, and he didn’t understand why, though he suspected Greg had a hand in it.

“You don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you? You’re either smothering me, or you’re treating me like I’m some sort of leper, and I’m tired of it! Tonight--tonight, I thought I was going crazy, that I’d been imagining it all. We were hanging out and everything was normal. Now you can’t even trust me to take a cab home by myself.

“The cabbie is not going to pull a gun on me, ‘Rick. I’m not going to trip and crack my skull on the front steps. There’s not going to be anyone in the bushes waiting to grab me. Or who knows? Maybe all three will happen. The thing is, I can’t spend the rest of my life jumping at shadows and having all of you hanging over me in case something does happen. You guys are driving me nuts, and I don’t think I need any more help in that area right now. So here’s what’s we’re going to do, I’m going to go get a cab and I’m going to go home--alone. You can go wherever the hell you want and I don’t want you going near me at work until you’ve got this figured out.”

Nick stormed off and Warrick stared blankly at the space in front of him, not knowing what had happened and unsure of whether or not he should go after Nick, write it off as an empty drunken outburst, or go home and force the answers out of Greg.

He hadn’t really been acting like that, had he? After Nick had been taken, he’d done his best to support his friend while giving Nick the time he needed to recover, or so he’d thought. Had that been the wrong thing to do? Or maybe it was the way he’d done it, but damnit, he didn’t know how these things were supposed to work, and no one bothered telling him he was doing it wrong.

Well, except Greg. Was he so used to dismissing his lover’s opinions just because he was inexperienced as a CSI that he’d started dismissing him about everything? If so, he owed Greg a huge apology. Hell, he owed him one anyway because Greg was a damn fine CSI and if he tended to think outside of the box, well, that’s what was going to make him a great CSI. It’s what made him a great lover as well as a great friend.

But then, that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? One reason he’d been avoiding Nick lately was to avoid the inevitable questions regarding his social life. How could he tell Nick he was sleeping with not one but two men? Sure, Nick had accepted Greg and his outspoken sexuality, but that was Greg. There was no telling how he’d react to hearing his best friend also liked it up the ass, which was exactly why Warrick had been avoiding going near another guy since college. He didn’t want to deal with other people’s hang-ups over his sex life.

But now he was going to have to deal with it. He needed to tell Nick about Jack and Greg so his friend would know the real reason why he’d been acting strange lately--or at least, the main reason. Yeah, there was probably some truth to what Nick was saying and he’d have to do what Greg suggested--he’d have to start paying more attention. The last thing he wanted was to have his best friend angry at him. He didn’t need that kind of aggravation, and Nick especially didn’t need it.

However, he didn’t care what the Texan said about wanting people to stop looking out for him--that was never going to happen. Warrick was not going to lose him again and if it meant being more subtle about keeping an eye on him, well damnit, that’s what he was going to do. He’d decided after seeing his best friend’s face on that screen that Nick’s safety was his number one concern, and nothing was going to change that.