Title: Breakfast
Author: Bj Jones
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don't own them. They are owned by various executives, producers, writers and studios who have more lawyers on retainer than I want to mess with. I'm not making any money and promise to return them.
Claim: I may not own the characters or the show but I do own the concept, original characters and story
Summary: Gil and Speed talk about past loves and loss over breakfast.
Note: Takes place after 'Fixer Upper'
Genre: Slash
Beta: Lynn (Janet)

~*~

Speed sat across the table digging into his steak and eggs. He was still adjusting to breakfast being dinner and visa versa. He looked up and caught Gil grinning at him.

"What?" He leaned back looking self conscious.

Gil shook his head. "Nothing."

"It's something," Speed pointed at him with his fork. "So spill. You invited me out to breakfast to talk so talk."

"You just reminded me of the first time Nick and I went out for breakfast. He was so new to Vegas and got caught up in the bright lights of Vegas. He couldn't get over being able to get dinner at seven am." Grissom smiled, lost in the memory. "We had a habit then to go out at least once a week. Then I became a supervisor and we stopped."

"Why?" Tim asked.

"I felt I needed to distance myself from the others, couldn’t be their friend." He grinned at Speed's snort. "Considering some of the stuff I said and did that first year, I was surprised Nick wanted to speak to me let alone date me."

"When did you start dating?" Speed asked.

"Nick had a tendency to attract trouble," Gil's smile faded, a frown settling in.

Tim frowned. He could sense the older man's sudden onslaught of emotions. "You know, H was a trouble magnet himself."

Grissom looked over at him. "I heard about that. Did he actually drive the Hummer into an exploding building?"

"Yes." Speed grumbled. "Let's not forget using oneself as a target for a sniper, jumping into alligator/shark infested waters, and facing a bomber with a toothpick."

Eyebrow rose. "Okay..."

"Though I've heard through the grapevine that you, my dear Dr. Grissom, end up in situations yourself," the younger man accused. "Talking to serial killers alone, not carrying a weapon..."

Gil noticed the pause and understood the reason behind it. "Maybe it's a prerequisite. But to answer your question, Nick had been stalked; the guy was living in his attic. I sat there watching him struggle with the loss of his privacy, trying to understand why. His home was a crime scene, and he had no place to go."

"So as a good friend you offered him your spare bedroom," Speed smiled. "And the rest is history?"

"Weren't you taught not to jump to conclusions as a CSI?" he teased.

"No, not really." Gil enjoyed the laughter coming from the young man. He had a feeling it was a rare treat.

"I did offer my spare room, and he did stay in it." Grissom smiled thinking back to those few weeks the two were learning about each other, not quite sure what was going on. "Our friendship picked back up. I was always able to talk with him about anything. Same with him. Then one day I..." he took a sip of his coffee. Speed could see he was lost in memories, good memories. "I was having surgery on my ears, I didn't tell anyone not even Nick. I was sitting there waiting to go in, cold and alone when I looked up and there he was. He simply signed that he would be there when the surgery was over and then later he was going to take me out to dinner on a date." Gil smirked. "And the rest was history."

Tim smiled lightly then looked down at his plate. "It was after Dispo Day."

Gil looked up at his companion. He wasn't expecting Tim to open up about the man he loved and lost. He wasn't sure what was worse. Him losing Nick to a madman, or losing someone you love to a victim.

"I admit I don't like guns." He glanced up and sighed. "Never have and never will. Though now I do know the importance of keeping one clean, and making sure I know how to use it, but doesn't mean I have to like them."

"Don't like them much myself." He remembered so many years ago the words echoing in his head. 'I hope I never have to pull it' and not even an hour later he had found himself standing in a dark room gun drawn protecting Nick.

"Horatio showed up a few days later," Speed smiled. "We started talking. I told him things I've never told anyone. About my past, my first love. I gave him my heart, body and soul..." He looked back down. "Only to have them returned to me."

Gil reached over the table and took Tim's hand in his. "He was an idiot. I would give anything to have Nick back, to even think of walking away because ..."

Speed took a deep breath and squeezed the comforting hand. "It was a very Horatio thing to do. He had no intention of hurting me; he just needs to be needed. I guess maybe I didn't need him anymore."

"No, you don't." Gil smiled at him. "You've moved on and maybe it’s time I do too."

Tim looked up into the soft blue eyes. "Maybe we can help each other."

"You know," Grissom said. "I think it was meant for you to come here."

"So do I," Speed agreed. "So how about you show me around this place? I mean Horatio used to joke Miami never closed, but Vegas really doesn't."

Gil looked over at the yellow bike in the parking lot, then over at the smiling young man. "How about you take me for a ride on that thing?"

"That thing is a Ducati, a high speed racing bike." Speed eye's filled with mischief. "Finish up old man; I'll take you for a ride you won't forget."

"Oh really?" he smirked as they headed out towards the parking lot.

Speed held out a helmet. "Let's ride."

Gil held onto Tim's waist as they flew down the streets of Las Vegas. He could easily see how and why the CSI had the nickname Speed - it was very fitting. As Speed turned the corner Gil leaned and let his body relax into the warm body in front of him, giving the driver the control he needed. The bike was easily straightened and accelerated down the street. Gil laughed a carefree laugh. He felt something inside of him come back to life. It was like the first time he rode a rollercoaster. It was freedom.

Next story in series - Moving On