A Shift in Perspective | By : AAnitaB2 Category: CSI > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1185 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
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Title: A Shift in Perspective
Author: AnitaB Author’s Notes: Well, when you watch CSI: Vegas… Nick and Warrick seem so much closer than just friends and coworkers. Nick’s new case will shed a new light on everything… for the both of them. I own nothing and nothing I do own would be worth getting in the lawsuit. Nick/Warrick romantic smut ahead. I am the queen. A Shift in Perspective By AnitaB Chapter one: A rough night at the club “Come on, man, please!” It wasn’t everyday that Warrick Brown got begged for anything by Nick Stokes. Let alone for something this weird. The stressed out look on his face and the way his hair stood on end from his fingers only made the sight oddly … well, oddly cute. “I can’t go there by myself. And Grissom took Sara and Cath both for the 419 at the Monaco. You’ve just got paperwork, right?” Nick sat forward on the locker room bench, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I’ll help you with it for a month if you’ll come with me to the Tug N Pull.” “I … I thought that’s what you said. DB at the Tug N Pull, that gay bar off the strip?” Pale fingers again ran through dark hair. And Warrick was weirdly happy that Nick had let it grow out a little. But then everything right now was a little weird. “No, Warrick, it’s not a gay bar. I’m fine with those. This is a gay *dance club.* My first DB there I had more bruises than the Vic did by the time I got to the bar. My next one, I got Sara to go with me. It…” Nick leaned back, head braced against the locker behind him, neck stretched in a long line. “It cut down on the… uh… offers some. I can’t go there alone. Please, Warrick.” Warrick leaned back against a locker, arms crossed over his tank and unbuttoned dress shirt. It was the end of a very long night. A double shift. And until Nick had given him the most pleading look he’d ever seen, all Warrick had been thinking about was his blankets, sheets and a pillow. But Nick… well, he was Nick. “Uh, yeah. Let me change this shirt and we’ll go.” “Thank you, man. I owe you so big for this.” Warrick blinked and found Nick giving him a quick, fierce hug before pulling back with a relieved smiled. “I’ll go get the car.” Then Warrick found himself blinking at the back of a pair of broad shoulders disappearing out the door. Shaking his head, he opened his locker for a clean shirt. He had a club to go to with a friend. 000 Nick sat behind the wheel of his Tahoe, fingers tapping on the dash. Relief at Warrick’s company to the club only unwound about half of the tense nerves in his gut. He hated the Tug N Pull. Hated it when those men looked at him like he was the desert section of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Hated the way they touched him, not knowing anything about him. It was so … meaningless. “Well, man. What’re we waitin’ for? Got a club to see about a dead man.” Warrick slid into the passenger’s seat, clapping a warm hand on Nick’s shoulder. A smile curved lips that were caught halfway through a yawn. “Let’s get going.” Nothing at all like the touch of someone who knew you and cared about you. A stranger’s touch was nothing like knowing the hands on your body also cared about more than your body. And Warrick was always there for him. Like tonight, giving up much needed sleep to help him out. That was friendship. That was Warrick in a nutshell. Putting the car in gear, Nick turned to smile at Warrick … and nearly ran the car into the wall. Instead of any number of shirts that he would wear on a regular basis, Warrick was sitting in the front of this car wearing a metallic silver button-down. “What the …” “Hey, my last spare shirt got bloodstained yesterday. This is all I got to wear unless you wanna swing by my place for somethin’ else.” Broad shoulders shrugged under shiny fabric as dark skin gleamed out of an open collar. “Or I could go with the exposed wife-beater look, if that’s better.” Now the collar was pulled aside to expose the narrow strap of a tank undershirt. Grinning, Nick got the car back into the right gear and pulled out of the parking spot. “Aborted date?” “Yeah, last week at the end of shift.” Warrick yawned and the stretch that went with it pulled his body into a strained arch against the seat belt. “Cancelled when that shift turned into a double too.” Nick said the first thing that came to mind, just a little shocked at the words on his lips. “Poor girl, didn’t know what she missed, did she?” Sort of frozen in his seat, he glanced across the front seat to see a please little smile on Warrick’s face as he looked out the passenger’s window. Something in his gut unwound and Nick relaxed into the act of driving. “Yeah, maybe I’ll give her another chance to find out.” Somehow the note of eagerness in Warrick’s voice ratcheted a little tension back into Nick’s nerves. “Lucky girl,” 000 Wow. No girl he’d gone out with had nearly ‘head-on’ed a wall at the sight of this shirt before. Warrick smiled at the compliment Nick probably didn’t even realize he’d given, not getting the curve off his lips until the car pulled into the overflowing parking lot. Not a cop car in sight. But ever so many patrons. Warrick watched tension climb vertebrae by vertebrae up Nick’s back. The level of immediate stress this place caused in Nick made Warrick hate it on sight. Anything that could hurt his... his friend... well, he just hated it. And he’d do nearly anything to make it stop. “Where’d Brass say the body was?” Something in Nick’s back loosened, but only slightly. “Alley at the back. Best access is through the kitchen.” “So let’s go beard the lion in his den.” That got him a smile and a turn of Nick’s head away from the neon lights. Something in Warrick’s back unknotted when those eyes met his, but only slightly. //Knew he’d like the bible reference. “After you, Daniel.” Grabbing his field kit, Warrick beat Nick to the door. His whole purpose here was to protect Nick from… unwanted advances. It was harder to protect him from behind. Watching Nick’s fingers clench around the handle of his case made him glad to have the eye-catching shirt. Anything to keep the unwelcome eyes and –heaven help them—hands off his Nick. Taking a deep breath, Warrick threw a comforting smile over his shoulder and entered the club. Heat slapped him in the face, blocking his throat and drawing sweat from his every pore. “The drink profits must be through the roof.” Nick moved oddly close to his back. Only to be heard over the rhythmic pounding music, of course. “A bottle of water is five bucks.” Warrick found himself leaning back, but only slightly. “Now that’s a crime.” “But we’re here for a dead body, Warrick, so let’s head for the kitchen. Away from the crowd.” The tension in Nick’s voice drew Warrick’s attention to the way eyes all over this room were watching them. Heat trailed up and down his body before the eyes causing it moved over his shoulder. To Nick. Even across the air between them, Warrick could feel muscles all over Nick’s back tense up. “Yeah, man. Let’s get this done.” Glares seemed to keep most of the… interested parties at a distance. And Warrick found himself doing a good portion of the glaring, trying to project possessiveness over Nick. Trying to pretend he was only pretending. The bubble held intact until Warrick leaned over the bar to flag down a waiter. It was then that a hand moved into and out of the edge of his vision. Toward Nick. The gasp could be heard even over the music and Warrick blinked to find a man’s wrist in his hand, mere inches from Nick’s shoulder. “Relax, man, your… friend here just looked a little cold. I thought some dancing might warm him up.” It wasn’t the body connected to the hand that reached for Nick that was talking. It was his… friend who was staring at them with a mixture of fear and eagerness. Looking at Nick like he was the special on the menu. Stepping backward, closer to and half in front of Nick, Warrick grinned. His free hand shifted the loose edge of his shirt enough to flash his badge and the edge of his gun and holster. “My… friend has all the heat he needs, right here. Back off and go find another friend.” Fighting to open his grip, Warrick stepped further between Nick and his pursuers. Nick, for his part, moved closer, angling himself behind Warrick’s back. Close enough to almost touch. “Seems insecure, even with those gorgeous eyes.” The brave, or foolish, one smiled as he trailed a fingertip along the back of Warrick’s hand. “Think he’ll have more fun with us and you’ll lose him?” “No, I don’t think so.” Warrick’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the action that came with Nick’s words. A chest pressed against his back and an arm crossed his shoulders to rest against the base of his throat. It was almost a hug. “Would you get bored with this around?” Warrick’s brain soft of misfired as that hand stroked down his arm to loosely clasp his wrist. “Excuse us, gentlemen.” Warrick just grinned as Nick led him off, watching the two men watch them leave. He delighted an unhealthy amount in the disappointment on their faces, following Nick down the hall to the kitchen. That hand stayed warm around Warrick’s wrist until after the kitchen door swung shut behind them. Cold air hit the skin of his wrist and Warrick watched Nick lean against a wall, slumping slightly. The playful smile was gone from his face and his head dipped. “Nick?” Warrick found his own hand on Nick’s shoulder, fingers spread to cover and sooth the tense muscles under his touch. “You okay, man?” Nick straightened and Warrick found himself the recipient of another of those half-hugs. But this one lingered a bit, and his hands flattened against Nick’s back for an instant. “Sorry about all that, Warrick… but it, it worked when Sara did it. And… I didn’t like the way he was touching you.” Breath just stopped in his lungs as the words that slipped off Nick’s lips paraded behind Warrick’s eyes and ricocheted about his brain. Part of his mind whispered that he had reacted for exactly the same reason when that man had reached for Nick. “We guys gotta stick together. So let’s go find our dead body.” A relieved smile curved those lips and Warrick felt himself smile back. Nick had that effect on him. 000 Title: A Shift in Perspective Author: AnitaB Chapter Two: Oh yeah, the victim… He hated this place, hated it with every cell in his body. Nick couldn’t breathe in here, couldn’t make his muscles relax at all from the tension riding him. Couldn’t – “Nick?” A warm hand touched his shoulder in the same moment as the soft question. //Warrick. “You okay, man?” Somehow the warmth of that hand and that voice cooled the burning feeling in his lungs. He could breathe, could make the muscles in his back straighten. Nick could find himself hugging Warrick, feeling those oddly comforting hands press flat against his back. “Sorry about all that, Warrick… but it worked when Sara did it. And… I didn’t like the way he was touching you.” The body half in his arms suddenly stilled and Nick actually heard his own words hover in the air between them. And then Warrick did just what he always did: be there for him. Turning the half-hug into a normal pat, Warrick met his eyes hesitantly. “We guys gotta stick together. So let’s go find our dead body.” Nick found himself smiling at Warrick. And he found Warrick smiling back at him. Warrick could make him smile… here, in this place. It was amazing. “Yeah, we’ve got a scene to process around here somewhere.” “Yeah, we can’t leave Brass alone with all that evidence.” Another smile crossed Warrick’s lips and Nick found himself following that smile down the hall to the kitchen and the door to the alley. “What took you guys so long? Stop for a dance?” Brass straightened up from his post leaning against the alley wall. “The body’s getting cold.” “More like getting stopped, but we made it out okay.” Warrick’s hand again found its way to Nick’s shoulder in a touch that was fast becoming… complete natural. “Your virtue or your life as usual, huh, Nicky?” Brass cocked his head at the sheet-covered lump inside the crime scene tape. “Seems a lot of guys get asked that question here.” Moving to crouch near the body, he pulled back the sheet. “Seems they don’t always take no for an answer.” Nick watched that silver shirt move around broad shoulders as its wearer bent over the body. “David ok us to move him?” “All yours, man. I even sent little David running home.” Brass gave one of his patented looks. “Seemed a little nervous around the clientele.” A laugh shook its way up Warrick’s back as he twisted to look at Brass and the smile on his lips matched the low rumbling sound in his voice like he wasn’t a handful of change into his third shift. “Yeah, seems to happen a lot around here… eager clientele.” //That’s my Warrick. “Here, let me help.” Nick found himself crouching on the other side of the Vic wearing his familiar gloves. “COD?” Dragging his eyes off that smile, he helped Warrick roll the dead man’s shoulders enough to reach his throat. “Ligature strangulation, David thinks.” And the object twisted and knotted around his neck agreed: a bar towel. “Hey, Brass, we got an ID on him yet?” Something was occurring to Nick and it wasn’t doing anything to lessen his hatred of the Tug N Pull. “Yeah, Boss IDed him, Mickey Andrews. Bartender and waiter inside.” Brass tucked the notebook back into the pocket of his coat. “Been on the job less than a month.” “Tough gig,” Unwinding the knotted cotton, Warrick smiled at him across the body and placed it in the envelope in Nick’s hands. That smile made the muscles in Nick’s arms stop trembling. “They oughta get a union.” Sealing the envelope, Nick reached for swabs and bindles. He leaned further over the body to dab at a stain on the Vic’s neck. Right near the grip point of the towel. “A week ago he mighta been its rep.” Focused on the trails of drops, Nick leaned further to follow it over poor Mickey’s jaw. When the world shifted, tilting sharply until a hand spread wide against his heart kept Nick’s face mere inches from a puddle of evidence. “Hey, Nicky. Let’s not face plant in our union martyr’s crime scene.” Strong hands helped him catch his balance, swab still clutched in shaking fingers. “I’m the one missing sleep here. You don’t get to nap yet.” He loved the way Warrick smiled at him. How this man always was there for him. “Thanks, man. Coffee later, my treat.” 000 Microscopes were murder. Or at least that’s what his lower back would testify. Straightening up, Warrick rubbed his spine. The gel Nick found on the DB’s jaw wasn’t making more sense just because he kept staring at it. What was motor oil doing on the neck of a dead bartender behind a gay dance club? There wasn’t even vehicle access to the alley. What could be another source of oil? Leaning back down to the scope, he stared at the sample one more time. Something was off about the consistency of it… “Ready for a break, Warrick?” The scent of coffee, good coffee at that, led Nick into the room. And nerves all over Warrick’s body responded. “I got two coffees with the works, just the way you like it and …” Nick waited, smiling and holding a deli bag until Warrick turned. That smile was like a dollar fifty worth of magic fingers to the sore muscles of his back. Warmth unknotted the tension and soothed. //Weird… really weird. “And?” Nick’s smile widened as he crossed the room and handed Warrick the cups. Such a little boy lived in that smile. It was impossible not to smile back. And that was Nick Stokes in a nutshell, charm and good-will in the flesh. “And those éclairs you’re always raving about.” From Michael’s Bakery… which was a little supply store for restaurants and didn’t serve coffee. //Two stops… “Thanks, man, this is exactly what I needed.” Grabbing a cup, Warrick hid a moment of confusion in a breath of steam and a careful first sip. He couldn’t honestly tell if he’d meant the coffee and éclairs, or Nick’s smile. But the food was safer. Even if that meant watching the look on Nick’s face as he licked chocolate icing off his fingers. “Man, were you right. These things are so good.” “Just wait ‘til you try their cream puffs. First thing, right off shift… little bites of heaven.” Taking a bite of his own éclair, Warrick dragged his eyes away, across the scope. //Ah, yes, the case. “Speaking of shift, your union martyr got up close and personal with hands that knew an engine well.” A pause gave him time to lick some chocolate icing off his own fingers. “That gel you nearly took a dive for is motor oil.” “Motor oil? That alley didn’t have access to roads or parking lots.” Nick set down his coffee and leaned over the microscope. “The fence and the dumpster block it off completely except for that back kitchen door.” Warrick found his eyes lingering on the rumpled lines of Nick’s shirt against his back. He hadn’t slept in too long too. Ruffled hair, sleeves rolled up to expose lean forearms. Then Nick straightened up, leading Warrick’s eyes to the bare throat behind an open collar. “Well, right now it’s evidence without context.” Nick grinned, remarkable widely considering the small amount of sleep he’d gotten in the last two days. “So we’re looking for an engine context.” Nick and his love of cars. Warrick found himself smiling, granted through a yawn. “Doubt it goes that fast, man. The oil’s not looking like too high a quality.” Another smile. “Old or just cheap. ‘Cause you’d be amazed how much get up and go you can get out of a classic.” //Like you’ve ever dated anyone older than you…let alone a classic. Shaking his head, Warrick tried not to remember Nick’s collection of damsels in distress. The young and helpless could find the helpful country boy blindfolded in Vegas crowds. And they did, appearing out of the woodwork to drag Nick into danger and trouble. And away from Warrick. For awhile, anyways. Then the girls disappeared and left Nick a little less white knight. A little less Nick being himself. And it drove Warrick fucking psycho to watch his friend pick up the pieces. To watch that smile slowly work back up to full strength again. “Motor head,” Warrick tried to shake himself back into the present, to see that full power smile. “Not just motors, Warrick.” “Yeah, yeah. Motors, parasailing, Vegas surfing. Anything and everything for a thrill.” Hiding a sharp sound in the rim of his coffee cup, Warrick pretended it was a laugh. As tired as he was, Nick probably wouldn’t notice. 000 Title: A Shift in Perspective Author: AnitaB Chapter Three: Evidence without Context They had to go back. To that place. Nick thunked his head against the light table… gently. It was glass after all. And getting blood on the photos spread out over the table would not help matters at all. No damn context anywhere to be found. That was back at the Tug N Pull. Near all those watching eyes and reaching hands… //Damn, damn, damn. “Whatever it is, a concussion ain’t gonna help.” The voice came along with warm hands on his shoulders, strong fingers rubbing tense muscles. “So why the head banging?”While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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