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Lab Arrest

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“Hey, Rick, how’s house arrest treatin’ ya?” Nick teases. “Or should I say, lab arrest?”

Warrick doesn’t match up to Nick’s playfulness, instead hobbling over the ankle he twisted during an on foot pursuit--“This is why you do the running, Stokes!”--having spent an entire shift helping Greg re-file and re-organize evidence that had been accidentally strewn about after an unsteady shelf collapsed. 

“Please get me away from him. He hasn’t left me alone all night and I am this close to committing a murder.”

“He who?” Nick asks with a look of puzzlement. 

“Sanders! He won’t shut up! About you!”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you!”

“Why me?”

“Beats me, but he’s your problem now. I’m out, bro.” 

Nick holds his hands in the air as Warrick staggers away with a heavy sigh, but he starts to laugh as he walks into the DNA lab to find his friend acting as if nothing had happened, simply bobbing his head along to blaring music on his portable stereo and dancing around the lab on the tips of his shoes, with such a carefree lightness that makes Nick feel oddly...refreshed.

He stands in the doorway and just observes the adorably chaotic lab technician change his course, setting down the empty tray he was using to serve his samples into the various equipment apparatuses, and suddenly finding new interest in his hands.

“He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me...he loves me not,” he can just barely hear under the layer of a new song as he pulls on the tips of his latex glove.

“What up, G?” Nick hollers over the loud music, drumming his fingers on the frame of the door.

Greg’s face falls immediately, he rushes to turn the music off. He rushes to grab a piece of paper that had been sitting unnoticed to Nick on the center counter.

“Whatchu got there? Those my results for the Perkins case?” Nick follows him around to the other side of the lab, getting dangerously close to Greg’s back as he peers over his shoulder to look at the paper before Greg crumbles it and tosses it swiftly into the garbage can.

“No, no, no, just a piece of trash. You always make me feel like I gotta tidy the place up, ya know?”

“I do?” Nick whispers into Greg’s ear.

“You do,” Greg breathes in through his nose. “Mind backing up a bit? Can’t get your results while I’m trapped in the corner.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Nick suppresses a giddy giggle as Greg doesn’t even realize how he’s allowing Nick to look at the discarded paper...

Until Greg picks the can up and takes it with him.

“Greg, I may like things tidy but this is your lab, man--”

“We both know what’s going on here,” Greg cuts him off.

“We do?” Nick asks, his eyebrows piqued.

“Yup. You got a crush on Warrick.”

“I--What?” 

“I heard the way he talks about you, quite the pair you two are, inseparable, really...”

“Greg, Warrick’s my best friend, but I don’t...like him. Like that. But I do...like...well...” Nick itches a nagging scratch at the back of his head, asking him if he’s sure he wants to proceed before saying, “I do like playing for both teams.”

He lets the confession hang in the air between them, with the space between them only being separated by the small bin that Greg holds between their chests.

“Duly noted,” Greg nods, peering into the can. Nick glances a look down, recognizes a full page of handwritten notes in Greg’s handwriting. 

Notes that were about him.