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remix_redux2007-04-17 08:19 pm
wutangfellowshp.livejournal.com) wrote in remix_redux2007-04-17 08:19 pm
Call and Response (How a Man Gets to Feel This Way Remix) [CSI; Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes; PG]
Title: Call and Response (How a Man Gets to Feel This Way Remix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
insksheddings
Summary: There's a story in every song, but they only come alive in the heart of the listener.
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/Nick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters are not mine. No profit on my end, just a little fun.
Original story: Kiss an Angel Good Morning (http://community.livejournal.com/csi100/85327.html) byparadise_city.
Notes: Many heartfelt thanks to my beta,anamin.
Call and Response (How a Man Gets to Feel This Way Remix)
"Dude. Change the station."
Greg hears Nick's request, but ignores it. He's busy playing air guitar in the passenger seat of Nick's '87 Silverado. Yeah, it's a little cramped, but Aerosmith demands air guitar, so what can he do?
"Greg.... Shit." Nick reaches over and switches the radio off, just as Steven Tyler was singing about coming and going easy.
"It's not shit," Greg argues, a little put out but knowing fully well it was more likely the volume Nick had a problem with, rather than the actual musical selection.
"I'm tired, man. These shifts are getting longer and longer, and I am simply not in the mood for some guy's vocal acrobatics screaming in my ears," Nick explains through a drawn-out yawn, as if to prove his point.
Greg gently pinches Nick's earlobe. "What about this guy's vocal acrobatics? You interested in that?"
Nick blushes slightly – which never gets old – and swats Greg's hand away. "Maybe. Suppose I'm not that tired."
Greg leans back and closes his eyes, smiling. Some things are infinitely more fun than air guitar.
*****
The sun is still up when Greg opens his eyes. He reaches across the bed but his arm comes up empty.
"I'm over here," Nick says quietly.
Greg turns to look over his shoulder and finds Nick fully dressed, putting his shoes on.
"What time is it?" Greg asks, because it can't possibly be time to hit the lab, not with the sun shining through the thin curtains like that.
"It's way too early. For you anyway. Grissom called, asked if I could come in ahead of schedule. Guess he never went home."
"Of course he didn't," Greg grumbles. "I never heard the phone ring."
"You were sleeping soundly. I was kinda hoping not to wake you up."
"What? Were you planning to leave me a note and a fifty dollar bill?" Greg jokes, but he's covering a slight case of nervousness. They've always arrived together and left together, and they haven't been together long enough for Greg to know whether he's expected to get dressed and go or just hang out, as Nick seems to be suggesting.
"Fifty bucks? Pizza that expensive these days?" Nick saunters over, leans down, and takes a quick nibble at Greg's ear, as if in retaliation for Greg's earlier pinch in the truck. "Go back to sleep, dumbass."
Greg relaxes back into the pillows, but-
"My clothes! I don't want to wear the same stuff as last night."
"Not a problem. There's a pair of jeans and a shirt from when we shared that night off."
"Oh. But wait. Just how am I supposed to get to work later?"
"Sara's picking you up."
"Aw, man! She's gonna tease me the whole drive."
"Come on now. She's never said a word to me."
"She doesn't have to. She just smiles."
Nick laughs all the way out the door.
*****
Greg never does fall back asleep. He tosses and turns for a bit, then decides that he's getting Nick thicker curtains for Christmas. The setting sun hits the bedroom window just so, and it sucks big time.
He still has nearly three hours before Sara smiles her way over, so Greg showers, puts on his boxers and the clean shirt, brews coffee, and...is still freaking out a bit, thinking about how he's never been in Nick's place alone before. He knows Nick trusts him, but this is somehow....
Actually, this is a situation with definite possibilities. Greg goes ahead and orders the pizza.
Sipping a cup of Folgers Classic Roast (dear God, he needs to leave some of his own coffee here), Greg examines numerous family photos, hanging on the walls and sitting on the bookshelves. Picnics, weddings, various candid shots.... There are actually a lot more than Greg had thought, or expected. He knew Nick came from a large family, had counted on the obligatory family portrait, but what he hadn't expected were all the photographs of kids; nieces and nephews, Greg supposes, and a lot of them.
Greg wonders if Nick wants kids of his own and finds himself hoping that Uncle Nick is a satisfactory position and title.
Never mind, Greg chastises himself before moving on to check out the titles on the bookshelves.
No great surprise greets Greg here. Mysteries – everything from Dashiell Hammett to Nancy Taylor Rosenberg – take up most of the space, some of them dog-eared and some of them with unbroken spines.
Greg kneels down to check out the lower shelves and that's where he finds the good stuff. Not books, but records. Vinyl. Oh man.
He'd figured Nick likes country, being from Texas and all, but Greg still feels an amused tingle up and down his spine seeing what kind of country apparently owns a piece of Nick's heart. Greg figures this stuff would be considered classic – Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline, Charley Pride, Emmylou Harris. Dolly Parton! Hell, even Greg knows a tune or two of hers.
"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeene..." Okay, so that's all he knows. Still. Maybe there's a record player around here?
*****
"...There's nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name, Jolene..."
Greg seriously wishes he had the night off. He hasn't liked every song he's listened to so far, but he feels like he's gotten to know Nick a little better. Not that he feels Nick's been holding out on him, but they've only been...whatever they've been for not quite four months now. Sara only found out by accident, at nearly the same moment Greg and Nick themselves found out, leaning up against his truck and making out like teenagers after an early breakfast during a slow shift.
So it's new, and there's a lot they haven't shared yet, and if there's one way to learn something about a person, Greg believes it's through the music they listen to. Even if Nick never listens to this stuff much anymore – a great possibility considering the complicated search Greg had to conduct for the record player – the fact that he's kept the albums says a lot about the impact the music must have made on him.
Greg has listened to Patsy Cline tell her man that if he's got leaving on his mind to hurry up and hurt her quick, and he wonders about the first person who broke Nick's heart.
He has laughed as Merle Haggard chased his wife around the room, wanting to relive their wedding night, and he remembers the first time he touched Nick right there, and how surprised he was when Nick's response was to touch him back.
Lynn Anderson never promised anybody a rose garden, and Greg knows that's a promise he can't make to Nick either. He's not even sure if Nick wants a promise of any kind yet. Or ever. But...but...
Just before the doorbell rings and he realizes he still has to get dressed for work, Greg wonders how Nick would feel if he brought over some of his old David Bowie and Duran Duran.
*****
Another long shift, and as much as Nick wants to be the best CSI he possibly can; as much as he wants Grissom's approval and for all the bad guys to be securely locked away from decent folk – like the seventeen year old girl whose autopsy he just came from – all Nick wants right now is to see if Greg thinks he'll be able to leave on time this morning. The lab techs have been just as swamped as everybody else.
They could swing by his place so Greg could have his car and not have to deal with a ride in from Sara – damn it, she really does smile in a way that can make a man feel guilty as sin – since Nick will probably get called in early again tonight.
As he rounds the corner into Greg's lab, though...
"You've got to kiss an angel good morning and let her know you think about her when you're gone. Kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home...."
Nick stops short and stares at him, wondering where in the hell Greg learned that song. Nick remembers slow, summer nights, his mom and dad dancing on the porch as Charley sang and he and his brother and sisters rolled their eyes and made gagging noises.
"What?" Greg asks, looking a little flustered.
Nick knows he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help himself. It was still an awfully long night, but now it doesn't feel like it was unbearably long. After scanning the area to make sure no one's around to see, he leans down and places a quick kiss on Greg's cheek.
"You about ready to go?" he asks, glad it's Greg blushing for a change.
"Uh. Done. Done? Oh! Yeah. Half hour tops."
Nick nods and leaves to finish up a little paperwork. He's still grinning as he wonders if Greg would be interested in listening to some old records today.
END
Author:
insksheddingsSummary: There's a story in every song, but they only come alive in the heart of the listener.
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/Nick
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters are not mine. No profit on my end, just a little fun.
Original story: Kiss an Angel Good Morning (http://community.livejournal.com/csi100/85327.html) by
paradise_city.Notes: Many heartfelt thanks to my beta,
anamin.Call and Response (How a Man Gets to Feel This Way Remix)
"Dude. Change the station."
Greg hears Nick's request, but ignores it. He's busy playing air guitar in the passenger seat of Nick's '87 Silverado. Yeah, it's a little cramped, but Aerosmith demands air guitar, so what can he do?
"Greg.... Shit." Nick reaches over and switches the radio off, just as Steven Tyler was singing about coming and going easy.
"It's not shit," Greg argues, a little put out but knowing fully well it was more likely the volume Nick had a problem with, rather than the actual musical selection.
"I'm tired, man. These shifts are getting longer and longer, and I am simply not in the mood for some guy's vocal acrobatics screaming in my ears," Nick explains through a drawn-out yawn, as if to prove his point.
Greg gently pinches Nick's earlobe. "What about this guy's vocal acrobatics? You interested in that?"
Nick blushes slightly – which never gets old – and swats Greg's hand away. "Maybe. Suppose I'm not that tired."
Greg leans back and closes his eyes, smiling. Some things are infinitely more fun than air guitar.
*****
The sun is still up when Greg opens his eyes. He reaches across the bed but his arm comes up empty.
"I'm over here," Nick says quietly.
Greg turns to look over his shoulder and finds Nick fully dressed, putting his shoes on.
"What time is it?" Greg asks, because it can't possibly be time to hit the lab, not with the sun shining through the thin curtains like that.
"It's way too early. For you anyway. Grissom called, asked if I could come in ahead of schedule. Guess he never went home."
"Of course he didn't," Greg grumbles. "I never heard the phone ring."
"You were sleeping soundly. I was kinda hoping not to wake you up."
"What? Were you planning to leave me a note and a fifty dollar bill?" Greg jokes, but he's covering a slight case of nervousness. They've always arrived together and left together, and they haven't been together long enough for Greg to know whether he's expected to get dressed and go or just hang out, as Nick seems to be suggesting.
"Fifty bucks? Pizza that expensive these days?" Nick saunters over, leans down, and takes a quick nibble at Greg's ear, as if in retaliation for Greg's earlier pinch in the truck. "Go back to sleep, dumbass."
Greg relaxes back into the pillows, but-
"My clothes! I don't want to wear the same stuff as last night."
"Not a problem. There's a pair of jeans and a shirt from when we shared that night off."
"Oh. But wait. Just how am I supposed to get to work later?"
"Sara's picking you up."
"Aw, man! She's gonna tease me the whole drive."
"Come on now. She's never said a word to me."
"She doesn't have to. She just smiles."
Nick laughs all the way out the door.
*****
Greg never does fall back asleep. He tosses and turns for a bit, then decides that he's getting Nick thicker curtains for Christmas. The setting sun hits the bedroom window just so, and it sucks big time.
He still has nearly three hours before Sara smiles her way over, so Greg showers, puts on his boxers and the clean shirt, brews coffee, and...is still freaking out a bit, thinking about how he's never been in Nick's place alone before. He knows Nick trusts him, but this is somehow....
Actually, this is a situation with definite possibilities. Greg goes ahead and orders the pizza.
Sipping a cup of Folgers Classic Roast (dear God, he needs to leave some of his own coffee here), Greg examines numerous family photos, hanging on the walls and sitting on the bookshelves. Picnics, weddings, various candid shots.... There are actually a lot more than Greg had thought, or expected. He knew Nick came from a large family, had counted on the obligatory family portrait, but what he hadn't expected were all the photographs of kids; nieces and nephews, Greg supposes, and a lot of them.
Greg wonders if Nick wants kids of his own and finds himself hoping that Uncle Nick is a satisfactory position and title.
Never mind, Greg chastises himself before moving on to check out the titles on the bookshelves.
No great surprise greets Greg here. Mysteries – everything from Dashiell Hammett to Nancy Taylor Rosenberg – take up most of the space, some of them dog-eared and some of them with unbroken spines.
Greg kneels down to check out the lower shelves and that's where he finds the good stuff. Not books, but records. Vinyl. Oh man.
He'd figured Nick likes country, being from Texas and all, but Greg still feels an amused tingle up and down his spine seeing what kind of country apparently owns a piece of Nick's heart. Greg figures this stuff would be considered classic – Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline, Charley Pride, Emmylou Harris. Dolly Parton! Hell, even Greg knows a tune or two of hers.
"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeene..." Okay, so that's all he knows. Still. Maybe there's a record player around here?
*****
"...There's nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name, Jolene..."
Greg seriously wishes he had the night off. He hasn't liked every song he's listened to so far, but he feels like he's gotten to know Nick a little better. Not that he feels Nick's been holding out on him, but they've only been...whatever they've been for not quite four months now. Sara only found out by accident, at nearly the same moment Greg and Nick themselves found out, leaning up against his truck and making out like teenagers after an early breakfast during a slow shift.
So it's new, and there's a lot they haven't shared yet, and if there's one way to learn something about a person, Greg believes it's through the music they listen to. Even if Nick never listens to this stuff much anymore – a great possibility considering the complicated search Greg had to conduct for the record player – the fact that he's kept the albums says a lot about the impact the music must have made on him.
Greg has listened to Patsy Cline tell her man that if he's got leaving on his mind to hurry up and hurt her quick, and he wonders about the first person who broke Nick's heart.
He has laughed as Merle Haggard chased his wife around the room, wanting to relive their wedding night, and he remembers the first time he touched Nick right there, and how surprised he was when Nick's response was to touch him back.
Lynn Anderson never promised anybody a rose garden, and Greg knows that's a promise he can't make to Nick either. He's not even sure if Nick wants a promise of any kind yet. Or ever. But...but...
Just before the doorbell rings and he realizes he still has to get dressed for work, Greg wonders how Nick would feel if he brought over some of his old David Bowie and Duran Duran.
*****
Another long shift, and as much as Nick wants to be the best CSI he possibly can; as much as he wants Grissom's approval and for all the bad guys to be securely locked away from decent folk – like the seventeen year old girl whose autopsy he just came from – all Nick wants right now is to see if Greg thinks he'll be able to leave on time this morning. The lab techs have been just as swamped as everybody else.
They could swing by his place so Greg could have his car and not have to deal with a ride in from Sara – damn it, she really does smile in a way that can make a man feel guilty as sin – since Nick will probably get called in early again tonight.
As he rounds the corner into Greg's lab, though...
"You've got to kiss an angel good morning and let her know you think about her when you're gone. Kiss an angel good morning and love her like the devil when you get back home...."
Nick stops short and stares at him, wondering where in the hell Greg learned that song. Nick remembers slow, summer nights, his mom and dad dancing on the porch as Charley sang and he and his brother and sisters rolled their eyes and made gagging noises.
"What?" Greg asks, looking a little flustered.
Nick knows he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help himself. It was still an awfully long night, but now it doesn't feel like it was unbearably long. After scanning the area to make sure no one's around to see, he leans down and places a quick kiss on Greg's cheek.
"You about ready to go?" he asks, glad it's Greg blushing for a change.
"Uh. Done. Done? Oh! Yeah. Half hour tops."
Nick nods and leaves to finish up a little paperwork. He's still grinning as he wonders if Greg would be interested in listening to some old records today.
END