Of all the ways Nick thought he’d spend his Saturday afternoon, this was not one.
“This,” of course, encompassed a number of things. For one, he had not expected to spend his Saturday afternoon in Starbucks. Sure, he’d briefly considered picking up some coffee sometime after he ran errands – Lisa needed supplies for a diorama, they were on their last roll of toilet paper, and Bobby’s possessed dryer had eaten yet another sock – but he hadn’t thought he’d actually sit down and drink coffee there.
Besides being at Starbucks, he had not expected to spend his Saturday with any of his friends. With Lisa off at Scott’s and Bobby recovering from a hellish triple (who knew techs could even work triples?) in bed, Nick had intended to get things accomplished. Grocery store, Target, the dry cleaners, maybe the bank, and then back to Bobby’s to fix that stupid Barbie house Lisa had broken for the third time and change the oil in Bobby’s truck. Sure, it made him the housewife (if you could be a housewife with someone you’re not married to, but Nick suspected you could), but he didn’t really mind. It beat watching bird documentaries alone in his apartment. (Which reminded him, he still hadn’t returned March of the Penguins. He mentally added that to his Saturday activity list, if he ever got out alive.)
But then, Greg had called, and asked if he wanted to go to Starbucks. In his twenty-twenty hindsight, this alone should have sent up a red flag; Greg Sanders, coffee snob of the universe, requesting an audience at Starbucks? Last time the topic of Starbucks had come up in a conversation, Greg’s theatrics of choking to death had led to Sara threatening his livelihood.
However, Nick hadn’t spent much quality time with Greg since he’d started dating Bobby a few months earlier, and he felt guilty. A cup of coffee between friends seemed like a good idea, and Nick would still be done in time to run those errands.
The third thing, however, was the one thing that Nick had absolutely, positively, never-in-a-thousand-years expected out of his Saturday, and that thing was the entire group of Clark County Crime Lab night shift lab technicians – the group that Bobby jokingly called the Pantheon and Nick just called a pain the butt – to show up at the very Starbucks he and Greg had come to.
It wasn’t that Nick didn’t like the lab rat crew, because honestly, he did. For the most part, on most days and at most times, they were decent people. Sure, Hodges could be obnoxious and Mia’s wash-all-hands-twelve-times-before-touching-anything could get irksome, but Bobby loved them enough that Nick forced himself to deal; after all, he didn’t want Lisa complaining that “Nicky” didn’t like “Auntie Jacqui” and “Big D” (though Nick had to admit, the first time he’d heard that nickname for Hodges, he’d laughed until his stomach hurt). Sure, they were quirky, loud, and just a tiny bit insane, but Greg had been one of them and Greg was one of Nick’s best friends. What was the worst that could happen around those five?
Famous last words.
“C’mon, Archie, just one sip,” Jacqui Franco whined loudly, her arms flailing as she reached across their table. Despite being a Saturday, Starbucks was nearly empty, something for which Nick was eternally grateful; who, after all, wanted to be associated with a grown woman whining about a coffee drink? But even with the shop mostly empty, Nick did sink lower in his seat and cast his eyes at Greg.
“No, Jacqui!” Archie snatched his frappucino off the table before she could grab (or spill) it, and proceeded to stroke the lid as though it was some sort of prized possession. “The caramel frappucino with a double shot of espresso is a sacred thing, reserved only for the strongest men.” Jacqui made a rude hand gesture at him and flopped back against her chair. “Besides,” he pointed out helpfully, “you’re the one who thought soy was a good idea.”
Mia smiled. “Actually, soy is extremely healthy,” she explained, “and lacks a number of bacteria that – ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jacqui huffed, “but it tastes like sludge.” She glared accusingly at her paper coffee cup. “Next diet I go on is the ‘as many mochas as you’d like, Jacqui Franco’ diet.”
“Or you could just get gastric bypass if you’re so concerned,” Hodges smirked. “Might be faster.”
Nick sighed as Jacqui cursed at Hodges in what very well could have been tongues.
Next to him, Greg looked honestly sympathetic and apologetic, two –tic words that he was happy to see from someone at the table. As soon as Jacqui and Hodges had arrived, Jacqui grinning and Hodges looking like typical Hodges, Nick had known something was terribly wrong. Ronnie had come next, and by the time Mia and Archie had arrived, Nick could practically smell the nefarious scheming.
Either that, or the coffee fumes were going to his head.
When Jacqui’s long string of curses finally ended, Greg set down the thermos he’d brought along on the table (Nick should have known) with an authoritative “clunk.” “Nick doesn’t have all day,” he reminded them in a tone that was almost firm, and Nick blinked. Were they plotting his death? Jacqui did still sometimes glare at him over her shoulder. And come to think of it, Bobby had mentioned that argument they’d had over Trace Adkins versus Tim McGraw to Ronnie….
“Neither do I,” Ronnie put in helpfully, causing both Hodges and Jacqui to glare daggers at him. “What?” he questioned with a shrug. “Tony has soccer practice in an hour. I told Nancy I’d take him there.”
Archie made a none-too-subtle whip-crack noise.
“Anyway,” Greg stressed over the noise of Jacqui chortling and Mia muttering something under her breath, “I dragged Nick here so you could do it, so let’s get it over with.”
Nick’s stomach twisted. “Do ‘it’?” he repeated, sending Greg a look that he hoped would communicate all the dread welling in his digestive tract. “This isn’t illegal, is it?”
“CSIs,” Hodges huffed. “Let them solve a couple crimes, and suddenly, they can’t break a few statutes in the name of friendship.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “Why am I even here?” she questioned aloud, twisting the lid to her water bottle. She looked down the table at Nick. “Run, Nick. Run while you still can.”
“He’s here for the same reason you are, Mia,” Jacqui informed her with a smirk.
“Because he’s deranged?” she retorted evenly.
“Because he knows that we will hunt him down like a dog if he runs.”
Nick pursed his lips and watched as Jacqui turned from Mia to him, her lips curved into what any and every normal person would revere to as a deeply evil grin. “Nicky,” she informed him, the sweetness in her tone betraying the expression on her face, “we have decided to welcome you into the fold.”
He blinked. “The fold?”
“He’s like a parrot,” Hodges grumbled into his latte, and when Nick sent him a cool look, he glared right back. “Stokey want a cracker?”
“David.” Ronnie narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. “This is supposed to be a happy occasion.”
Greg chuckled. “Even if all of humanity was destroyed and left Hodges the last person on the planet, he still wouldn’t be happy.”
Hodges shifted the aim of his glare. “And you have a problem with that?”
“Nope.” Greg grinned innocently. “Ronnie’s just been working days too long. He’s starting to remember you as a nice guy.”
“When humanity is destroyed, Sanders, you’re first.”
Archie sighed. “Focus, kids,” he told them. Jacqui guffawed and took a sip of her drink, but then sputtered when she remembered exactly what she was sipping. “Anyway, Nick,” he continued, ignoring her demands for a quick death, “you and Bobby have been together for four months now. That’s a long time.”
“Eons, really,” Greg added solemnly.
“Your concepts of time are all sadly deluded,” Hodges muttered. “Ronnie’s been married longer than most of you kids have been alive.”
“Because you’re so old and withered,” Mia returned. “And we’re just all little kids.”
“Ah, so she can be taught.”
“And I resent the implication that Nancy and I have been married for longer than your lives,” Ronnie added, wagging his cappuccino cup in Hodges’ direction. “Though the way most of you act, you could be twelve. I should look into that.”
Nick bit back a smile and focused on his coffee.
“Whatever the case,” Jacqui cut in, tapping the edge of her offending paper cup on the edge of the table, “we have decided that you, Nick Stokes, can join our Pantheon.”
“Bring your own beer,” Archie noted.
“And share your coffee drinks.” He pulled his frappicino away just in time for Jacqui’s lunge to fail. She grumbled and sunk back into her chair, glowering at him.
Forcing himself to smile before he was tempted to plot his escape on the back of a paper napkin, Nick nodded at the scowling Jacqui. “That’s great, guys,” he replied tensely, “but I’m not sure I understand.”
Greg blinked at him, looking almost incredulous. “You don’t understand?” he repeated, sounding as shocked as he undoubtedly looked. “We’re the coolest people in the lab, and you don’t understand?”
“Actually, Sanders, you left us,” Hodges reminded him dryly. “You’ve been relegated to the level of cool usually reserved for Grissom.” He held up a hand. “Don’t thank us. It was out of love.”
He just smirked back. “You seem to think Grissom is pretty cool,” he replied casually, and then ducked when Hodges tossed a wadded-up napkin at him.
“It’s just a little tradition,” Ronnie assured him, reaching over to pat him warmly on the shoulder. “We’ve done it for everyone. Mia’s boyfriend – ”
“Now an ex, no thanks to you,” Mia muttered.
“ – and the now-infamous Luscottfer,” he finished, ignoring Mia’s dejected water-sipping. “You’re next.”
Jacqui frowned as Ronnie finished, eyeing him. “You know,” she thought aloud, “every significant other who has joined our group has ended up becoming a former significant other. You think it’s related?”
“You think you’re a female?” Mia retorted bitterly.
Hodges started to open his mouth, but Jacqui sent him a death glare. “Don’t.”
By some miracle of nature, Hodges closed his mouth, too.
“Actually, I think she has a point,” piped up a new voice, and Nick could swear the angels in heaven began to sing when he glanced over his shoulder and saw Bobby standing there, hands in his pockets and a slight smirk on his face. “But you underestimate Nick.”
Archie smirked. “He is putting up with you,” he acquiesced.
“And the demon spawn,” Hodges pointed out. “Any man who can put up with that kid deserves an award.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t like her,” Greg retorted. He smirked knowingly. “I saw you on her birthday with the stuffed animal.”
Jacqui nudged Ronnie in the arm. “Look, Greg’s all jealous he didn’t get a plushie for his birthday.”
“How cute,” Ronnie agreed, smiling widely.
Bobby laughed aloud. “Cute,” he informed them, his hands landing on Nick’s shoulders. “Are we going to have to bring Greg into the fold?”
“We just kicked him out,” Hodges muttered, glaring evilly at Jacqui and Ronnie. Jacqui looked entirely too amused for her own good, and Greg was pretending to be very interested in the lid of his thermos. “Why let him back in?”
“The same reason you’re letting Nick in,” Bobby replied warmly, and Nick smiled up at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, can I have him back? You did kind of abduct him.”
Ronnie smirked. “We could have left a note. Not like you would’ve had someone to trace it.”
Frowning, Archie narrowed his eyes up at the uninvited eighth. “How did you find us?” he questioned suspiciously. “We left no trace.”
“Except for the fact you always do these things at Starbucks on a Saturday.” Mia threw up her hands in frustration. “Really, why do I come to these things?”
“Beats a Saturday alone,” Hodges informed her, and then scowled when her empty water bottle smacked him in the shoulder.
Nick laughed at that, shaking his head, and behind him, Bobby ruffled his hair. The friendly conversation carried on for another half-hour or so until the technicians finally started to trickle out; Ronnie had to pick up his son, Mia had an “appointment” that Jacqui kept calling a date, and even Jacqui herself had plans she was being mysterious about. (Hodges muttered under his breath that it was probably time to go recharge in her pod, and Jacqui stole the rest of his latte.)
Once Hodges and Archie had wandered out, Greg rose and clapped Nick on the shoulder. “Sorry, Nick,” he apologized, looking quite genuine. “It’s tradition, and they roped me into it.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, smiling. “It’s not like they don’t abuse me at the lab.”
“And if it hadn’t been you,” Bobby added in, “they would have hog-tied him in the back of Ronnie’s mini-van and gagged him with an old bandana.” He paused for a moment, smirking. “Though, come to think – ”
“Okay, no,” Greg replied, holding up a hand. “I’m all for the retelling crazy hijinks, but not in Starbucks. Even bad beans are sacred.” He shook his thermos before smacking Nick on the arm. “See you guys tonight.”
Nick nodded. “Later, G,” he called after him. Starbucks was still mostly empty – empty enough that he was comfortable with Bobby standing in his personal space, their sides nearly brushing. He ran a hand over his head. “Didn’t expect that.”
Bobby smirked. “Nobody expects the technician inquisition.” He blinked at his own words. “Technician inquisition. It rhymes.”
“Don’t tell Jacqui or she’ll want to use it,” Nick retorted, and Bobby laughed. It was a free laugh, one that made Nick smile widely. In fact, it was enough that he didn’t mind being cajoled into a Saturday at Starbucks by mentally unstable laboratory technicians.
His drink was still half full, and warm against his hand, so he nudged Bobby in the arm companionably. “C’mon,” he urged, allowing his fingers to just barely brush Bobby’s, Starbucks be damned. “I’ll buy you a coffee.”
