Title: Bass
Author: Lovely Evil One
Sequel to: Dew
Rating: PG
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Slash Gil/Nick, Gil Perspective
Disclaimer: Gil and Nick belong to the creators of CSI. All hail them.
Summary: Nothing can drive the evidence away.
Thanks: to Ari and SPB for the help. Love you!

The bass vibrated through the floorboards of his house. Strong, like the beat of Nicky's heart. Strong, like a case backed up by forensic evidence. Strong, like he wasn't.

His hearing was getting worse. That's why he had set all his speakers on the floor and turned the music up. If Beethoven could do it, so could he. So he laid down on the floor, arms crossed over his chest, surrounded by his speakers and his subwoofer. Bass thrumming through the floorboards now, air from the subwoofer blowing across his skin. All of it was evidence.

Gil was going to have to rely on more than just his hearing now. It was fading like... Like, what? Like Nicky.

Fine.

The evidence spoke for itself.

Nicky had always been a ladies' man. Sometimes to such a point that even Gil couldn't keep up with all the women that knew Nick. Not that he was keeping track. He just noticed the looks some of their co-workers gave Nicky. And some women on the street. And some women that worked at the hotels, restaurants -- dammit. Women everywhere looked at Nick, as well as a few men, not including himself.

Dammit again.

He rolled his shoulders and let the music return him to where he should be. The evidence.

Nicky was a ladies' man. He would always be one. A time would come when Nicky would want a female in his bed again and he was just ending it before they got more emotionally tangled together. Sure it hurt now, but that was nothing compared to what it would be if he had waited.

Then there was the fact that Nicky liked his games. Madden 2000, 3000, whatever the hell it was. It was loud, and the times when he could hear it, it gave him a headache. He couldn't do his crosswords when Nick was playing on his playstation, x-box, game box, whatever it was this week.

'Don't forget the way he would sit at the floor at your feet while he was playing those games, his temple against your leg. Warm, reassuring. How good it felt to slide your hands through his hair as you thought about a clue for one of your crosswords.' A nasty little voice whispered inside his head. The same voice that told him to review the evidence because he was missing something.

He ruthlessly squashed that voice. It sounded suspiciously like Nicky.

Plus...

Plus, Nicky changed grocery stores on him. He always had his food delivered at a specific time on each Wednesday of the week. Nicky would go at any time, day or night. It broke up his routine and made him irritable. He had too much food in the house. The only time he got a respite from it all was when Nick needed some private time at his own house.

And he hated waking up on those nights when Nick needed private time to find he was the only one in a cold, big bed. He was sure it wasn't that big when Nick was there.

Damn it all to hell.

Gil stood up and turned off the music. It wasn't helping so he headed to the back of his townhouse where he kept his 'bug-stuff' as Nicky had called it.

Unfortunately, it also meant he had to walk past his bedroom. When he did, he got that feeling again, like he was missing some part of crucial evidence. Reaching out, he pushed the door open slowly and the missing piece of evidence came rushing at him like a runaway train.

Sun flitting in between the heavy blinds covering the windows. He was coming out of the bathroom, drenched in sweat. A nightmare.

He couldn't remember what it was, only that it had shaken him to the core. So he stumbled into the bathroom to rinse off his face, get his bearings again.

Gil tried not to disturb Nick as he climbed out of bed.

Not that it helped. When he opened the door to the bathroom again, Nick was staring at him from the bed. Soundlessly lifted up his corner of the sheets and he went, just as soundlessly between them.

Even if he couldn't remember the dream, Nicky knew. And he didn't say a word. Just curled around Gil until the small tremors of his muscles stopped and he fell asleep again.

He left his bedroom. Nicky knew. Nicky would always know. Nick would understand him in a way that no one else could or that no one else cared to know. Because he was Nick. Because he was the only one for Gil, even if Gil couldn't admit that to himself. The evidence doesn't lie.

There was no bass to cover the sound of his own soft cursing.