Title: Bundle of Trouble
By: Chapin CSI
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Note: The little note about Oscar Wilde was taken from the book 'Pox: Genius, Madness, And The Mysteries Of Syphilis'.
Warning: I don't speak English and it shows in my stories; luckily, my readers are very forgiving. Thanks!
Summary: A prequel to 'Bundle Of Joy'. How did Greg convince Gil to get a dog?

***

Grissom sighed and opened his eyes. He was in Greg's bed, recovering from what could only be described as an extremely satisfying love-making session. His body was starting to cool off, and the beating of his heart was finally quieting down. For a brief moment he'd wondered if he would survive 'so intense was his body's reaction.

But survive he did, although it would take him a while to muster enough energy to move -not that he had any intention of doing so. He had the day off, and he was quite willing to spend it in bed... Unless Greg had other plans, in which case some compromise would have to be reached.

Speaking of Greg, the younger man was right next to him, probably just as worn-out. He certainly wasn't moving and, judging by his slow, even breathing, he had probably fallen asleep.

Grissom wished he could turn and take a look. There was something deeply gratifying about watching Greg fall asleep after sex. It did wonders for his own ego, to see the satisfied smile on the young man's lips as he drifted off.

But Gil was too tired to do even that. All he could see from his spot on the bed was the garish artwork on the walls, somewhat softened by the moonlight, and part of an open window. Gil turned his gaze to the starry night sky.

'Thank you, Lord,' he muttered. He wasn't a Catholic anymore but he still prayed now and then. As prayers go, this was about the shortest, but it was all he could manage.

He was too tired to move, too tired to think...

He was growing drowsy... He was not going to fight sleep...

He closed his eyes.

And then -

"Ever thought of getting married, Grissom?"

Grissom's eyes opened abruptly.

For a moment, he wondered whether he'd only dreamed those words. When no further question was posed, he closed his eyes again.

He felt the bed dip under Greg's weight. Gil didn't have to look to know that was merely turning on his side. His bony knees brushed against Gil's thigh.

Gil didn't mind Greg's pointy knees -or elbows- poking at him during sleep. He could take anything. He was so tired...

"Gil? You awake?"

Grissom paused for a moment and then he acknowledged the question with a noncommittal, "Hmmm?"

"Ever thought of getting married?"

When Grissom didn't reply, Greg gently poked him with a knee.

"Hey," he said softly.

Grissom reluctantly opened his eyes.

"What?"

"You didn't hear me?"

Grissom glanced at Greg. For a guy who ought to be exhausted, Greg looked too perky -irritatingly so.

Gil wanted to turn his back on that smug face but he just couldn't move. All he could do was pull the sheet until it covered his face.

"Good night, Greg." he mumbled.

He should have known the sheet would not stop Greg. The young man simply pulled it down.

"Hey," Greg greeted, "You haven't answered my -"

Grissom sighed.

"Greg, I'm tired -"

"Pleasantly tired, I hope," Greg said, smiling.

Grissom smiled back but didn't say anything. He glanced away and after a moment he closed his eyes again.

It looked like Gil was really falling asleep, but he was not. Just as Greg was about to poke at him again, Gil chuckled softly.

"What?" Greg asked.

"I was thinking." Gil said, "Did you know that Oscar Wilde designed his bride's wedding dress?"

"I didn't even know he had a bride," Greg replied. "But did he, really? Design the dress, I mean."

"Yeah. The bridesmaids' too."

"Hmmm. That's interesting," Greg acknowledged, "All of a sudden, I picture him acting like one of the Five Fab, telling his bride how to wear the dress. How ironic." Greg smiled. Then he poked at Gil again. "But you still haven't answered my question."

Gil sighed. Clearly, Greg wasn't going to leave him alone till he got an answer.

Gil shook his head.

"I never thought of getting married."

"Never, ever?"

Gil shook his head.

"It wouldn't be fair, marrying a woman while knowing all along that you're gay."

"No, it wouldn't. But I wasn't talking about marrying a woman, Gil. I was wondering if you'd ever wanted to marry a man."

Gil opened one eye.

"Guys aren't allowed to get married."

"So?"

"So, if men aren't allowed to get married, why would I even -"

"Actually, you can get married in Canada," Greg interjected, "Or you can have a civil union ceremony in New Hampshire. Nowadays, you can have a commitment ceremony in practically every city in the US -"

"Nothing like that existed when I was young -er." He added the last syllable almost as an afterthought.

"It does now," Greg said, looking closely at Gil. When Gil didn't comment, he added, "Let me put it this way: If guys were allowed to get married in Las Vegas, would you do it?"

Grissom gulped. He opened his mouth but couldn't manage a reply.

"Well?" Greg prompted.

Gil answered reluctantly 'not because he lacked the conviction, but because it was something he didn't want to discuss.

"I don't believe in marriage."

"You don't? How come?"

There were lots of reasons; Gil just didn't want to talk about them.

"I've just never thought about it much," Gil shrugged. "I used to think people should only get married if they wanted to have kids. And since I don't want to have kids -"

Greg's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Wow," he said, "That takes care of my second question."

Gil looked up sharply.

"You want to have kids?"

"Well, yeah," Greg said matter-of-factly.

Grissom was too stunned to speak but Greg didn't seem to notice. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

"I like kids," he said, "People have always said I'd make a great parent one day. And starting a family is a sign that one's serious about a relationship, right? A real commitment." He threw a glance at Gil, "What do you think?"

Grissom couldn't believe he was having this conversation. It seemed like a dream. A bad one.

"Greg," he said at last, "Raising a child is -"

"- something you don't want to do." Greg finished.

Grissom turned on his side to take a better look at Greg. It was hard to tell whether Greg was disappointed or not. He was simply looking back at Grissom, as if waiting for some further explanation.

Gil didn't know where to begin.

"I never thought about having kids," he said, "I didn't even think about being in a relationship, in the first place."

"Well, what about now?" Greg asked, "Would you consider it?"

Grissom hesitated. The answer was right on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't simply blurt it out. It should look like he was truly thinking it over.

"Greg," he started, "I don't think I'd be a good parent. I wouldn't have the time."

Greg stared at him, waiting.

"I can't do it," Grissom said.

Greg nodded slowly. He looked away and after a moment, he lay back down again. He looked at the ceiling in silence.

Grissom studied Greg's profile closely, trying to read the young man's expression. He didn't seem sad 'that was a relief. Gil didn't want to hurt Greg's feelings.

"You're ok with it?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Sure," Greg replied morosely. "It's not like I have an option."

After a moment, Grissom turned away and looked at the ceiling too.

He couldn't believe he'd just had this conversation. He'd honestly thought that being with Greg 'or any guy, for that matter- would preclude the discussion of parenthood. By bringing up the subject, Greg had just put a damper in what had been -till now- the best relationship Grissom had ever had.

The only relationship he'd ever had, that is.

"I just wish -" Greg said suddenly.

"What?"

Greg opened his mouth but he didn't say anything. He only shook his head.

"Nah, it's nothing," he muttered dismissively.

"Just say it, Greg."

Greg glanced at him.

"Well, I was thinking about commitment -"

Grissom's heart skipped a beat. He gulped.

"You mean -" Gil faltered, "A ceremony of sorts?"

"Huh?" Greg frowned. "Oh. No, I wasn't thinking of a ceremony. Why?" he glanced at Gil again, "Were you thinking of a ceremony?"

"No," Grissom said abruptly. "I was not."

Greg smiled faintly at this but he was careful not to let Grissom notice.

"I was thinking we should do something together," Greg said.

"Do something?"

"Yeah. We could get a pet, for instance."

Gil began to breath more easily. This wasn't so bad.

"We already have a maggot farm," he said confidently.

Greg gave him a look.

"It's your maggot farm, Gil. And maggots are kinda boring; all they do is eat and grow inside their cocoons. I'd like a more responsive pet, thank you very much."

"They're clean pets," Gil pointed out.

"Well, I like messy pets," Greg replied. "I don't mind cleaning after them. All it takes is a few sheets of newspaper, a little bleach in the worst cases -"

"Bleach?"

"You never had a dog or a cat?"

"My mom was allergic. And I never had much time to take care of a cat or a dog, anyway. I started working at twelve, you know."

"Really? I didn't know that. Aw," Greg said, patting Gil's arm, "You missed out a lot by not having a pet."

"I did have pets; I had an ant farm."

Greg scowled.

"You can't compare a dog to an ant farm," Greg scowled. "Dogs do stuff. I always had a dog while I was growing up," he said wistfully, "The last one I had kept me company while I was in New York -Mr. Dimples. It was the ugliest mutt in the world," he smiled. "I had to leave him behind when I came to Las Vegas. My cousins still have him."

He sighed.

"I miss having a dog." He said, a faraway look in his eyes. "I like having a little fella jumping on me and licking my face -"

"Actually -"

"I know, Grissom," Greg glared, "You can do that. But that's not the point."

"Greg, if we had a dog -"

"It wouldn't be as emotionally draining as raising a child," Greg offered.

"Not, but it would still be a -"

"- huge responsibility," Greg finished. He turned on his side again and fixed a penetrating gaze on Gil, "Didn't you ever fantasized about having a dog, Gil?"

"No," Grissom said quickly.

Too quickly.

Greg looked at him with interest.

"No?" he asked, "You never imagined holding a warm creature in your lap, scratching its belly, tickling it -" and just as Grissom was about to speak, Greg glared again, "Yes, Gil, I know you've hold me on your lap and scratched my belly too! But that's not the point!"

It was Grissom turn to smile. It was funny, how Greg kept guessing what he was going to say every time he opened his mouth. Greg knew him well.

But Gil knew him, too.

"I know what you're doing."

Greg narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, really," he said skeptically.

"Yes, really," Gil replied.

Greg smiled back.

"So?" he asked.

"So, I'm gonna think about it," Gil said.

Greg kept his gaze on Gil for a moment. Whatever he saw must have convinced him of Gil's goodwill.

"Thanks," Greg said simply. "Now, let's sleep."

Greg pulled the sheets around them and then he tentatively put an arm around Gil. Grissom pulled him closer, and for a while they lay together in silence.

And then, a whisper.

"Hey, Grissom? If you say yes, then I have the perfect dog. A tiny lab. Nobody wants the poor girl. If we take her, we'll be saving her life."

"A lab?"

"And since you have all that space in your backyard -"

"My backyard?"

"My apartment's too small, Gil. It would be ok if we got a Chihuahua or a miniature poodle, but somehow I don't picture you as a miniature-dog kind of guy. A lab, on the other hand -"

Grissom was going to say he wasn't a lab kind of guy either but didn't. He worked at a lab, after all. Maybe it was an omen?

Gil shook his head. That last thought made no sense. Maybe lack of sleep was starting to affect him; otherwise, how to explain that all of a sudden the idea of having a dog seemed perfectly reasonable?

"A lab," he said.

"Yep."

Gil nodded thoughtfully. Labs were noble creatures. And handling a dog would certainly be easier than handling a kid. And maybe 'just maybe- if he consented to this, Greg would eventually forget all about 'commitment' ceremonies and parenthood -

Gil paused. He threw a suspicious glance at Greg.

"You planned all this from the beginning, didn't you?"

Greg was smug.

"I've seen the animal shelter newsletter you get every month. I knew you'd cave in sooner or later. At least," he added, "I was hoping you would."

"You could have just said you wanted a dog, you know."

"Oh, no," Greg replied, "No way. When I deal with Gil Grissom, the CSI Supervisor, I gotta be direct; but when I deal with Gil Grissom, the boyfriend... I gotta be sneaky."

"Sneaky?"

"Oh, yeah. Remember how I got you to finally admit that you loved me?"

Grissom paused for a moment.

"Ah, yes. You were very sneaky, indeed."

"See?"

"And what if I had said I wanted a kid, Mr. Smartass?"

"I would have gone along with that, too." He glanced at Gil, "I like kids. But the truth is, at the end of the day I'm glad they're other people's. I'd rather be a 'cool uncle' or a 'cool cousin' than a 'clueless dad.'"

"So you'll settle for a dog."

"Our dog."

Grissom smiled. He liked the sound of that.

He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. But before he could fall asleep, Greg spoke again, his words distorted by sleep and by the fact that his cheek was flat on Gil's chest.

"By the way..." He muttered, "Nana Olaf left me her wedding ring."

Gil's eyes opened abruptly again.

"So," Greg continued, "In case you're ever interested... It's yours."

THE END

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