Author’s Notes: Haha, crossover. : Thanks for helping me with the plot, Jazz281321!!

Warning(s): crossover, mild and/or hinted slash Nick/Greg.

Disclaimer: I own neither CSI nor One Piece, nor any of their characters or story plots. This fan fiction belongs to me, however.

- - - - - -

Greg’s eyes were stuck on the ceiling, his eyes blank and barren without thought. Books littered the floor below him, flipped and skewed to one page or another, sometimes three or more at a time. The ceiling fan buzzed above him, the curtains blowing in a gentle, husky warm breeze of Nevada summer air that made bile sink into his throat. The gentle breeze blew a book over, making Greg look over to it’s title, One Piece. He sighed and looked back up to the ceiling. He was bored. Utterly and painfully bored. He couldn’t think for himself - and he was twenty-eight after all. Thirteen year olds could think better than him and they probably still can. He watched the ceiling fan spin, and oh, look, a butterfly… he watched it float back out the window, it’s vibrant colors disappearing from the tan, bland room. He smacked his lips, the mint in his mouth fell to the floor. He was lying upside down, head off the bed to the floor, and stuck his tongue out to pick it back up. He couldn’t reach. He wiggled his tongue back and forth rapidly. Damn, he thought. Much too lazy to get up and get it… my poor mint, it will die on the floor. There it will die on the floor. And I was the one who killed it! It was me, officer! I swear! I have to stop reading CSI books… wait, oh the irony! I am a CSI, damnit! His tongue was wiggling, like a little, pink, moist worm. Ew, worms. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out. In your stomach, out your mouth, Greg sang to himself over his pink worm of a tongue. He wiggled his tongue again for his mint. “What are you doing?” Greg looked next to him, surprised to see that he hadn’t notice Nick walk into the room.

“Min… canth reath mah minth…” Greg said over his tongue, desperately reaching for the “dead” morsel.

“Yeah… good luck with that.” Nick said, then making his eyes cross-eyed and attempting to put the tip of his tongue to his nose. When he couldn’t touch, he put it back in his mouth. Greg arched his neck toward the morsel, failing successfully. He heard a strange buzzing, and he glanced up to a fly that landed on his tongue. Randomly, he recalled that one time Grissom told him that when a fly lands it-

Greg fell off the bed.

-Poops.

Greg screeched loudly, licking the floor in attempt to get the non-existent (or microscopic) poop off his tongue, only picking up his hairy mint and carpet fibers. He bolted for the door, pushing Nick aside, and now the not-so-distant sound of gargling began to sound. Ugh.

The day had only just begun too.

- - -

Greg chomped his teeth together, stopping to glance over to Nick. “I’m bored,” Greg said, putting his chin down to the wood table of his kitchen. Even though Nick was over, he was still bored. Well, Nick was reading one of the various One Piece volumes that littered the floor that Greg had thrown around his room after reading them all, obviously consumed into volume one.

“Hey, is this Lindsay’s or something?” Nick looked up from the premier volume, probably over half way through the first one. Greg turned to him, not picking his chin up from the wood of the table.

“Naw, it’s mine alright,” Greg said, adding a nod up and away from the wood. Greg also skipped over the question after answering it. ‘I’m bored.”

“I know, what should we do?” Nick asked, closing the book and throwing it at Greg’s head. It hit Greg on his face, but Greg disregarded it, answering through the black and white comic-manga pages with a reply of, “Its hot.” “What, Zoro?” Nick asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Well, yes, but no. I meant you.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks, I know.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So you do mean Zoro, bitch?”

“No! The room!”

“Was that sarcastic?”

“No!” Greg hadn’t been willed enough to lift the book from his face and Nick picked it up, tossing the book across the table gently, then sat down on Greg’s back.

“Augh! Fat on me! Fat on me!” Greg squealed and Nick got up, kicking him in the side with his foot, making Greg release an “oof” sound and clenching his stomach and spitting his tongue out. Greg fell out of the chair, inching his way across the floor as Nick jumped across the floor to turn on the fan. “It’s hot,” Greg rang out, emphasizing the word “hot.”

“We should go to the pool,” Nick suggested, looking outside to the suburban Vegas in which Greg lived. Greg lifted his head from the floor, his butt wiggling in the air.

“It’s midnight, I don’t think the pool is open, Nicky,” Greg said, shaking his butt like he had a tail.

“We can sneak in Greggo, no one will care,” Nick bent over and grabbed Greg by the sides, hoisting him up like he would a little kid. “So, go get your swimsuit on!”

- - -

The waters of the surface of the pool were still, illuminated only by the moonlight that shone down on them. Greg threw he towel aside and so did Nick, leaving Greg to go over and look over the edge to the murky-looking, black waters below. Greg began to think, thinking the waters of the pool without the lights underneath the waters makes it look more like a black abyss, his reflection pooling on it’s black surface. That was, until, Nick jumped him and grabbed him, falling into the deep waters below them with a high-pitched squeal of fright and joy from Greg as he not only attacked him into the water, but also his neck with a fury of butterfly, feather-soft kisses.

- - -

Greg peered over the edge of the diving board, his board-shorts clinging to the hard material of the diving board and scratching his legs faintly. He felt so high up, and his tiny reflection didn’t help his stomach either. He stuck his tongue out in disgust. “Do I have to, Nicky?” Greg asked in a childish voice, giving a little squeak as Nick gave a chuckle at his childish fears.

“Well G, the diving board stairs are a one-way ticket into the pool, so you either jump or stay there forever.” Nick chuckled and Greg sank back over the board away from the edge into the pool.

“Nuuu,” Greg squealed in protest to both. “I can climb back down, Nicky…”

“You were the one who said you wanted to jump. Besides, the stairs are at a 90 degree angle, kinder tough to get back down, don’t you think?” Nick put his hands on his hips.

“But, but, but-”

“No butts unless it’s yours and mine in the sheets, G.”

Greg stuck his tongue out. “I agree! Also, what if it leads me into an alternate universe? Like, it leads me to Neverland? Or, like, Peewee’s Playhouse? Or outer space? You know, somethin’ weird. Like in the movies or somethin’.”

“Greg, that’s physiologically impossible, and you know that, you lab rat.” Nick snorted.

“Hey, I’m your lab rat, so get over it!” Greg laughed, sniggering gently.

“Yeah, exactly my point! Get over it, G!” Nick said, smiling and putting his hands on his hips like he always did. “Come on, you can do it, G. Nothin’ to be afraid of.”

Greg stood, sniffing and readying himself under Nick’s influence. He knew he was scared off heights, but he knew he could jump. He knew he could. He swiveled back and forth on his feet, then lunged and jumped off the edge of the board.

Nick began to count the seconds. He hit eight seconds and his head began to spin. Ten. “Greg…?” Twenty. “Greg?” Thirty. Fifty. One hundred and twenty five. He went wide eyed and Greg hadn’t risen to the surface. “Greg?!” He screeched one more, jumped to the edge and in after the love of his life.