Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at
http://archiveofourown.org/works/282720.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Relationship: David Hodges/Greg Sanders
Character: Greg Sanders, David Hodges, Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown
Additional Tags: Crack
Series: Part 3 of what goes around...
Stats: Published: 2011-11-23 Words: 998
Private Property
by Nigaishin
Notes
Originally written and posted on LJ in 2005.
Betas: blackangel_life and redleaf0
Again, very theorically set after Couch and Smile.
Response to the dhodges fic challenge #4a on LJ, "[...] type David’s
name in the Sloganizer and see what it comes up with. When you
find one you like, it must be said somewhere in the fic. [...]".
Greg was in the locker room changing when Nick walked in.
He blinked at the sight of his friend standing there in only a towel,
mumbling to himself.
"Hey, Greg. What happened?" he asked, rummaging through his locker to
get his stuff before leaving.
"Looking for a soda bottle. Ended up in the sewers," he grumbled, sitting
down and slipping a new pair of boxers on.
"Oh, yeah, heard about that," Nick nodded and turned to flash a smirk at his
friend, but stopped half-way and gaped.
Greg had gotten up and thrown the towel on the bench, and now stood with
his back to Nick, retrieving his shirt and jeans from his locker.
He heard his friend choke a bit mid-sentence and then let out a hysterical
giggle, and he turned, puzzled.
"What? The sewer thing that funny?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at Nick,
who was fumbling to get the door of his own locker shut and trying hard not
to laugh.
"What?" Greg repeated, slitting his eyes a bit, not understanding why his
friend's face had begun to redden as well.
"Uh... uhm. I was only wondering at your choice of clothes, Greg," Nick
managed to get out, finally slamming the door closed, "I know you're quite
the-- ah, creative and open guy and we don't mind it at all, but... don't you
think those are a little too much?"
Greg frowned, looking from his boxers to Nick's face, confused.
"You think I shouldn't wear boxers...?" he asked, uncertain.
Had Nick gone completely crazy and decided to hit on him in some weird
kind of way of his?
His friend blinked, puzzling for a second at the question before catching up
to what Greg was trying to imply, and blushed.
"No! No, no, that's not what I meant... geez," he rolled his eyes at him, "I can
still resist the old Sanders charm, don't worry. I was only saying that maybe
you should check the back."
He looked at Greg's still perplexed expression and snickered.
"Oh well, gotta go. You better put something on before somebody else
comes in," he muffled another laughter and quickly left.
Greg stared at the spot where his bestfriend had been standing just a few
seconds before and finally shrugged.
"Weird Nicky," he mused, "... maybe there's a hole in the back on my
boxers?"
He felt them with his fingers but couldn't find anything, so he opted for one
of the mirrors over the sinks.
He took a peek and froze.
Even if the words where written backwards, he could make out the sign just
fine.
"I must be dreaming. Hallucinating . There was something in the sewers that
got me stoned or whatever. That must be it," he nodded, looked away and
then back into the mirror.
It was still there.
"You're taking the whole Narcisus thing to a whole new level, you know,"
Warrick's amused voice startled him, making him jump and back against the
wall quickly, "he only stared at his face."
Greg nodded, creeping towards his locker, mindful of never letting Warrick
see his back.
"You think they'd actually tell you if he spent his time looking at his ass? And
I guess trying to see your ass mirrored in a pond or river or whatever
wouldn't be that easy. Better settle for the face," he babbled, tried to
distract his friend from noticing what he was doing.
He grabbed his jeans and hopped into them, bouncing a bit on his feet as he
tugged them on quickly.
"Touchè," Warrick still smirked from the doorway.
"Now, as fun as discussing what's easier to look at while looking into a
mirror or a pond is," he mumbled into his shirt as he slid it on, "I really have
to go."
He bounded down the corridors, taking his phone out of his pocket and
punching in David’s number.
"Hodges," an annoyed voice answered.
"Hallo to you too, Hodges," Greg greeted back, calmly, "it’s me."
“Greg,” his tone lost some of the snarkyness, “is everything ok?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I just felt like calling,” he paused, waiting for some kind
of remark that didn’t come, and then started again, “I had a shower earlier.
And then I got my clean clothes out of the locker, because my old ones were
dirty. A sewer will do that to you."
"How nice. If this was supposed to be some sad attempt at phone sex, I’ll let
you know that’s exactly what it is—a sad attempt," David interrupted in a
bored voice.
"Shut up and listen me out," Greg replied, still trying to sound calm as ever,
"I put on my boxers, and Nick walks in and starts laughing. And then he says
something about my boxers, and walks out."
"Enthralling, really."
"Dave," he warned, "so I looked into the mirror to see what was wrong with
them."
"Who wouldn't. Can’t I just put the receiver on the table there so you can go
on with your list of daily activities and I can go back to sleep?" the voice
butted in, hopefully.
"My boxers, Dave," Greg gritted his teeth.
"What about your boxers?" David asked, exasperated, and sighed.
Greg glared, even if he knew his lover couldn’t see him.
"They say David Hodges Only on the back. Just over my ass. David Hodges
Only. David Hodges only, like in Authorized Personnel Only. In red marker."
There was a pause.
A long one.
For a moment, Greg thought the phone might have disconnected.
Then he heard a shaky breath on the other end, followed soon by a
strangled laughter.
"Glad to know you find it so funny!" Greg sulked back.
"I was starting to wonder when you were going to notice that," David
chuckled, amused, “well, revenge’s sweet, indeed. Now get your David
Hodges Only ass home so we can see what to do about that slogan, mh?”
That said, he snickered and hung up, leaving Greg no time to reply.
~fin
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