Title: Black Friday
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: Nick comes to Grissom’s rescue.

Nick often thinks life would have been a lot easier if he’d known about himself earlier. The fact that it’s a dishonest thought, in almost every way, doesn’t stop him from thinking it. Or maybe it’s not a thought at all; maybe it’s just a wish, a what-might-have-been, comforting because it can never be tested or disproved.

The fact of the matter is that it wasn’t the not knowing that was the problem. Because he knew; he knew as far back as junior high, even though he didn’t really have a name for it back then, and he certainly didn’t realize that it was something about him that wasn’t going to change.

And life wouldn’t have been easier. Maybe now, but not then and certainly not in Dallas and as a member of one of the more prominent local families. He’d have had to swim against the tide, against the expectations of everybody around him. And he’d never been the rebellious type. Rebellion needs a certain kind of selfish courage that he didn’t possess.

So he pretended. He pretended straight though high school, college and police academy, and he never stopped. It wasn’t even that difficult. In almost every way he’s just your average clean-cut guy, the kind other guys like to hang out with, the kind that mothers and fathers have no problem with their daughters dating, let alone the daughters themselves. He was content and that was good enough.

He’d turned thirty before he started to wonder if he wasn’t missing something more important than he’d been willing to acknowledge. In Vegas there was nobody he needed to please. In fact, there was nobody, period. For a while he had a crush on Warrick, though he realized even at the time that it had more to do with the fact that he was lonelier than he’d ever been in his life, than that he was really attracted to his teammate. They get along well, but they’re too different. Besides which, Warrick is most decidedly not gay.

Then again, what does Nick really know about being gay, other than his own feelings? A couple of books, a few movies. He watched ‘Queer as Folk’ almost obsessively when it first came out, partly longing for what he’d denied himself, partly repulsed, thinking ‘this isn’t me.’

He decided it was time for a change. But he never did anything about it. Still hasn’t. One day he knows that he’ll regret it and that he’ll think himself both a fool and a coward. But that’s in the future and this is now, and he’s trapped in the lie he’s created.

He spots him purely by accident, a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye, then a double take when he realizes that the man bracing himself with both hands against the rim of the garbage can at the mall entrance doesn’t just look like Grissom. People are giving him a wide berth, eyeing him suspiciously.

Nick’s first instinct is to avoid him. It’s his day off and he doesn’t want to get involved in a case. But Grissom isn’t wearing anything to identify him as a CSI, and Nick remembers that it’s his day off as well. It’s just Grissom being Grissom, Nick thinks with some amusement, fascinated by something only he would be fascinated by. Black Friday, a world of sales happening a couple of yards beyond the automated sliding doors, and Grissom is studying trash.

“Hey, Griss. What’re you looking at?”

Grissom doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look up, and it makes Nick uneasy. He reaches over and clasps Grissom’s shoulder lightly.

“Grissom?”

Grissom finally reacts, turning his head towards Nick. His face is shiny with sweat and his eyes are bloodshot and seem unable to focus. If Nick didn’t know him better, he’d think that Grissom is either drunk or extremely hung over.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?”

Nick almost smiles at the note of impatience in Grissom’s voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t fucking see.”

“What?”

“Migraine,” Grissom grits out. “Out of nowhere. No warning. Nothing. It blurs my eyesight.”

“How can I help? Do you want to sit down? Do you need to go to the ER?”

“No. Just… help me get home.”

“Sure. Uh, can you walk?”

Grissom lowers his head again. “Why? Didn’t you drive here?”

“To my truck,” Nick explains patiently, suppressing another smile. “Can you walk to my truck?”

“Oh. Yeah, I can walk,” Grissom says and he straightens up, letting go of the trash can and turning towards Nick. He seems steady for a second, then he suddenly sways and Nick has to grab him before he falls down.

“Sorry. Just a little dizzy. Wait a second,” Grissom mutters, dropping his forehead against Nick’s shoulder, and Nick wraps his arms around him more firmly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nick says. He suppresses a sudden and insane impulse to press his lips against Grissom’s temple, like his mom used to do to him when he was little and had a fever. “I’m parked a few aisles over. Why don’t you just wait here and I’ll come and pick you up. There’s a bench right over there.”

Grissom’s been holding onto his shoulder, and suddenly his grasp tightens almost to the point of hurting Nick.

“No. I’ll walk,” he says urgently, then repeats more quietly, “I’ll walk.”

“Okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Nick realizes that they’re attracting curious stares. If Grissom were aware of it, he’d hate it. He protectively hugs Grissom closer to him.

“Let’s go,” Grissom says after a few seconds. Except for Nick having to lead him he seems alright for about thirty yards, then he stumbles and Nick grabs him again.

“Why don’t you put your arm around my shoulders?” he suggests gently, and once Grissom complies, he half-carries him the rest of the way and then almost lifts him into his truck.

Once he’s behind the wheel, he looks at Grissom, who’s leaning back against the headrest with his eyes closed. Nick reaches over and fastens his seatbelt for him.

“Grissom? What’s your address?”

Grissom tells him and he sets off, driving slowly over speed bumps and trying to avoid the potholes.

“You drive like an old woman,” Grissom mumbles suddenly, and Nick grins.

When they reach Grissom’s house, Nick helps him up the stairs.

“Keys?” he asks Grissom, once they’re standing in front of the door.

“Shit,” Grissom groans. “In my car.”

“Are you serious?” Nick asks incredulously. “Grissom, you know that’s not safe.”

Grissom doesn’t respond.

“Right, then. I’m taking you to the ER. Then I’ll go pick up your keys.”

“No. No hospital.” He’s starting to slur his words.

“Grissom, why the hell not?” Nick asks in frustration.

“No hospital.”

“Fine. No hospital. How about my home?”

“Okay.”

“What about medicine?” Nick asks when they’re in the truck again. “Should we stop by a pharmacy?”

“Prescription. Besides, it’s too late now. I just need to lie down.”

Nick shakes his head in resignation. Grissom is being completely unreasonable, and Nick should know better than to be listening to him in his condition. He almost takes him to the ER anyway, but finally decides that he can’t just disregard Grissom’s wishes.

He wakes up to the sound of the toilet flushing and pushes himself up off the couch to go check on Grissom.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, standing at the bedroom door.

Grissom is lying curled up on his side on top of the covers, his eyes closed. He’s kicked his shoes off but otherwise he’s fully clothed. Nick suspects that if he hadn’t helped Grissom take his jacket off, he’d still be wearing that too.

“Better.”

“Would you like some more Tylenol?”

“How long?”

“Since you last took some?” Nick checks his watch. “About five hours,” he says.

“Please.”

Nick fetches a glass of water and the bottle of Tylenol and sits on the side of the bed.

“Two?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes two tablets out and hands them to Grissom, who props himself on one elbow to take them, then gives him the water. When Grissom hands him the empty glass back, Nick starts to stand up, but Grissom grabs his hand.

“Nick, I’m sorry.”

“What for? It’s not your fault. How’s your eyesight?”

“Okay. For ruining your day off. I’m feeling better now. If you call me a cab, I can take it from there.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He looks down at Grissom’s pallid face. “Lie down. It’s fine. It’s not like I have anything to do anyway.”

Grissom rests his head on his folded arm. He twists his head against his arm a little, as if trying to rub the pain away. He seems to have forgotten that he’s still holding Nick’s hand.

Nick hesitates a little, then cups Grissom’s head with his free hand, his fingers stroking lightly through Grissom’s curls. Grissom sighs and closes his eyes, accepting the caress. This time around, Nick succumbs to the impulse and bends down to kiss Grissom, his lips on the soft smooth skin of Grissom’s temple. He feels Grissom start a little and he quickly straightens up, jerking his hand away as well.

“I’m sorry,” he says, appalled at himself.

“What were you doing at the mall?” Grissom asks.

It takes Nick a second to process the question. “Nothing. Just killing a few hours.”

“I went to find a grill.”

“A grill.”

“Yeah. For grilling sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches,” Nick repeats mechanically.

“Mmm. One with flat plates, so that you can also make pancakes on it. You ever notice that they don’t seem to sell that kind of grill any more?”

“Don’t they?” He realizes that Grissom is still holding his hand, and he stares down at their twined fingers.

“No. I wonder why.”

“Maybe people like their grilled sandwiches with little lines. You can always make pancakes in a pan,” Nick says. This has got to be the craziest conversation he’s ever been in.

Grissom smiles a little, his eyes still closed. “Maybe,” he says drowsily.

Nick hesitantly places his hand on Grissom’s head again, and he sees Grissom’s smile deepen. After a while he seems to fall asleep again, his fingers relaxing around Nick’s. Nick carefully pulls his hand free, and stands up.

For a long while he stares down at Grissom. It occurs to him that Grissom is the first person, other than himself, to sleep in his bed, and that for some reason he doesn’t want to explore right now, he likes it. He likes it a lot.