Title: Countdown
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them

At the end of the shift, Nick had ten more cases to go. With eight, Warrick had a slight edge on him, but Nick was still feeling pretty good about himself. With any luck, CSI-3 and a nice raise were less than a couple of weeks away. He was also still considering putting in for day shift, but he couldn't make up his mind. Free nights and a more normal social life on the one hand, Ecklie on the other.

"I can't believe you're even thinking about it," Catherine told him later over breakfast. "I'd put in for days in a minute."

"So why don't you?"

"Better opportunity at a promotion," Catherine shrugged. "Grave has been good to me. Besides, I don't have to prove myself to Brass and Gil any more."

"What about Ecklie?"

"He's alright as a supervisor. Gil doesn't think very much of him, but I've never heard any real complaints about him. A bit political, but it's all part of the game."

"He's nowhere near as good a scientist as Grissom."

"Yeah. And look at who's running his own unit and who isn't."

"I'd still learn more next to Grissom," Nick said.

Catherine looked at Nick over her cup. "Sounds like you've made up your mind."

Nick shook his head. "I don't know. Anyway, it's not like I have to make a decision right away."

Catherine toasted him with her cup. "Well, I hope you decide to stay. I'd hate to see another shift benefit from everything I've taught you."

Nick grinned. "Ah, Catherine, I owe it all to you."

"Not all," she smirked. "But enough."

"Man, I've already filled my application out. Days, swing, I'll take anything. I can't stand working for Brass," Warrick told him during the following shift.

Surprised at Warrick's vehemence, Nick looked up from the microscope. "He's not that bad. He's mostly an administrator, anyway."

"He just rubs me the wrong way. He understands zilch about what we do and we still have to go to him for everything we need. Having a cop running criminalists doesn't make much sense anyway. But a narrow-minded cop? That's just plain stupid."

"He's really not that bad," Nick repeated.

"Of course you wouldn't think so. He's assigning all the easy cases to you, which is the only reason you're even close to one hundred."

"That's not true at all!" Nick said hotly, then stopped when he saw Warrick's grin. "Asshole," he muttered.

Warrick laughed.

"Grave is where it's at," Greg told Nick, as they both sat in the break room. "The most interesting crimes happen during the night time, when man thinks his petty foibles and passions will remain unseen."

"How poetic. And even if it were true, which it isn't, it doesn't matter when the crime is committed, it matters when it's called in."

"Grave is still where it's at," Greg said stubbornly. "I've worked a couple of shifts with the days team. Believe me, those guys are beyond boring. Besides, grave has the most brilliant, not to mention dedicated, lab technicians. We're not clock watchers like the others."

"That's because you're such geeks, you have no life anyway," Nick scoffed.

Greg sighed sadly. "Too true. Too true. Except for me, of course."

"Of course."

"I hear you're considering applying for days," Grissom said, while scanning the report Nick had handed him.

Nick looked at his bent head in surprise. "Where did you hear that?"

Grissom looked over his glasses at Nick. "Where did I hear that, as in it's not true, or where did I hear that, as in cite my sources? Because I won't do that."

Nick sighed. "No, it's true."

Grissom looked down at the report again, flipping a page. "Why?"

"I'm not really a night person."

Grissom smiled. "Circadian rhythm. A powerful driver." He continued scanning the report. "Good work on this. You definitely have enough for a warrant. Talk to Brass."

"Thanks." Nick hesitated for a second, then sat down. "Grissom? What do you think?"

"About what?"

"About my applying for days," Nick said patiently.

"I think you should do what you think is best," Grissom said.

"Come on, I'm asking for advice here."

Grissom laid the report down on the desk and looked at Nick for a few moments.

"There's only one piece of advice I can give you and I already did. Do what you think is best."

"That's it," Nick stated, trying not to let his frustration show.

"That's it," Grissom confirmed.

Seven more cases to go. Nick sat in the empty break room with the blank application form in front of him, tapping his pen on the table. Grissom walked in, holding a sandwich and a soda. He hesitated when he saw Nick alone, then walked to the table and sat down next to him.

"I see you've made up your mind," Grissom said, nodding towards the application.

Nick put down the pen. "Not yet."

Grissom was silent for a few moments, as he unwrapped his sandwich and popped the soda can open, then took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

"Ask me what I want," he said quietly.

"What?"

"Don't ask me for advice. Ask me what I want."

Nick stared at him, feeling a bit light-headed. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as Warrick walked in, dropped down on the chair next to him and grinned.

"Number ninety four," Warrick stated gleefully. "The 407 at Meadows Mall." He clapped a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Don't worry, when I've won, I'll take you out for a consolation drink."

Nick looked at Grissom again, but he was smiling at Warrick. He looked down at the application form, folded it, and reached for his own sandwich. "I'm not gonna be the one in need of consolation," he said to Warrick half-heartedly.

Nick peeled the "Solved" magnet off the top of the board and placed it carefully next to case number 97. Only three to go. He stood contemplating the board in quiet satisfaction, noting that Warrick was also at 97. A dead heat.

Greg came and stood next to him, also looking at the board.

"You see what I mean? With the days lab? You wouldn't be over sixty five, maybe seventy cases at best. It's unfair how you guys get all the credit for our hard work. We're the unsung heroes."

"Greg, you didn't mention anything about my thinking of applying for days to Grissom, did you?"

"To Grissom? No."

Nick looked at him suspiciously. "Buuut…" he said, drawing the word out suggestively.

"Well, you didn't say it was a secret," Greg said defensively.

"Jesus, Greg, what is this, high school?"

Greg stuck his tongue out at him and hurried off. Nick stared after him. No, it wasn't high school. Unfortunately. Because Nick had mostly gotten whatever he wanted, when he was in high school.

Nick waited for Grissom in the parking lot, feeling conspicuous as various members of grave glanced at him curiously on their way out the door. For a second he considered getting in his truck and driving home, but he needed to finish the conversation with Grissom, because for the last three days he'd become increasingly obsessed. On the one hand, there was only one possible reason he could see for Grissom to have said what he said. On the other… well, Grissom was Grissom.

He took a deep breath when he saw Grissom walk out of the building, his armpits instantly clammy, butterflies in his stomach. Grissom didn't see him at first and when he did, his pace slowed a bit.

"Hey, Grissom," Nick said when Grissom reached him. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for breakfast."

"Where?"

His question threw Nick, because he'd been expecting a yes or no. He suddenly realized that maybe they shouldn't go to the diner the team always went to. On the other hand, suggesting somewhere else might decrease the chances of Grissom accepting. He was aware of the seconds ticking by as he fruitlessly searched for an answer.

"Why don't you come over to my place?" Grissom asked suddenly. "I've got eggs, bacon, all the trimmings."

"OK." Nick tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate, because the invitation made him even more nervous.

Grissom looked at him searchingly for a moment, then nodded. "OK. I'll see you there."

Nick was still standing there as Grissom backed out of his parking spot and drove away. It was only when the car turned a corner and was out of sight that he started towards his car. Here goes nothing, he thought.

"Come on through to the kitchen," Grissom said when he opened the door, then walked back into the kitchen, leaving Nick standing outside. Nick followed him, shutting the door behind him. He found Grissom standing in front of the open fridge, looking in.

"So, what would you like? There's eggs, cheese, left over Chinese if you prefer."

"Whatever you're having is fine," Nick said.

"Grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"Fine," Nick said, although he wasn't hungry. In fact, he was starting to feel nauseous.

Grissom nodded and placed some cheese on the counter.

"Uh, Grissom. I mean, Gil. I just wanted to… You know." Shit. Shit shit shit.

Grissom turned towards him, leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled.

"To ask me what I want? Go ahead," he said.

"What do you want?" It came out baldly, a bit aggressively.

"I want you to stay. You're a good CSI. I want you on our team."

"That's it?" Nick asked, feeling almost as frustrated as when he'd asked the question the first time, in Gil's office.

Grissom shrugged. "That's it."

Well, OK. It was what he wanted to hear, Nick thought, firmly quashing the little voice inside him telling him he'd hoped for more. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. OK, he repeated to himself.

Breakfast was uneventful and afterwards Nick awkwardly said goodbye and went home.

Only two more cases for him, with Warrick still stuck at number ninety-seven. Nick concentrated on the work at hand, trying not to think beyond that. Brass assigned him to a case with Catherine leading and when that one was done, to another one with Grissom leading. In the meantime, Warrick solved his ninety-eighth case as well.

"Let's go out for drinks tonight," Warrick said. "It's the weekend and once I break one hundred next week, I'm not sure I'll want to be hanging out with a lowly CSI-2 any more."

"Gee, how I can resist such a gracious invitation?" Nick asked sarcastically. "And since you're so sure you'll make it first, you're buying."

"Catherine, Gil, feel like joining us?"

"Hang out with two lowly CSI-2s? Only if you're buying for me as well," Catherine said. "And I get to choose where we go."

"Fine. I'll buy for everybody," Warrick said in a long-suffering tone. Gil?"

"Sure."

"The Crown?" Warrick groaned.

"Great dance music," Catherine said, as if that explained everything.

"Nice, Catherine. And what are the rest of us supposed to do?"

"Oh, stop complaining. I got a free VIP couch through a friend, so you can just sit and enjoy the music and the drinks. But I bet you'll dance."

"I won't," Warrick said.

He did. In fact, the only time he sat down was when Catherine finally succeeded in dragging Nick to the dance floor. It was a short break for him, because Catherine delivered Nick back to the couch with a look bordering on contempt and grabbed Warrick again.

Grissom said something to Nick, but Nick smilingly shook his head, pointing to his ear. Grissom leaned in closer.

"You look disappointed," Grissom said, his breath hot against Nick's ear, making Nick's skin prickle.

Nick laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. I'm so bad, women think I dance that way on purpose."

Grissom leaned back again and they sat quietly next to each other, sipping their drinks, waiting for Catherine and Warrick to return. Idly watching the crowd, Nick became aware of a guy staring at him. When their eyes met, the guy raised his eyebrows a bit as if in question, indicating Grissom. Nick smiled and then nodded imperceptibly. The guy raised his shoulders in an exaggerated gesture of regret and cruised on.

"I'm getting bored," Grissom said, leaning against Nick's shoulder to speak in his ear again. "I think I'll take off."

"Yeah, me too." Standing up, Nick scanned the dance floor for Catherine and Warrick. Just as he saw them, Warrick glanced his way, so he made a motion to indicate that Grissom and he were leaving. Warrick nodded, bent down to say something to Catherine and they both waved goodbye.

Grissom and Nick walked out of the club together, the silence and cool air a relief.

"Well, that was …different," Nick said. "Not quite what I had in mind when Warrick suggested drinks."

Grissom smiled. "I guess you haven't been out with Catherine before."

"Nope. You have?"

"Several times." Grissom zipped up his jacket and they started walking towards where they'd parked. "And I last longer on the dance floor with her than you did."

Nick laughed in disbelief. "You dance?"

"That surprises you?"

"Well… yeah, it does, actually."

Grissom smirked. "I happen to be a very good dancer."

"So why didn't you dance tonight?"

"Catherine didn't ask me," Grissom said.

"But if you were really a good dancer, she would have," Nick said triumphantly. "So you're lying."

"Maybe she sensed I didn't want to dance."

By now they'd reached Grissom's car, but instead of unlocking it, Grissom just leaned against it, his hands in his pockets.

"Why not? If you're such a good dancer, I mean."

"Maybe I wanted to just sit next to you," Grissom said softly.

At first Nick kept on smiling, until what Grissom said slowly sank in. He stared into Grissom's eyes and his heart started beating heavily. Almost unconsciously he took a step forward and put his hands on Grissom's hips. Grissom took his hands out of his pockets and rested them on Nick's arms.

"So ask me what I want," Grissom said.

"What do you want?" Nick choked out, his heart still thudding.

"A repeat. Only without the Bosco this time."

Nick leaned forward until his lips were almost touching Grissom's. "Right now?" he whispered.

"No. In about 15 minutes. Unless you won't come home with me. In which case, right now," Grissom murmured against Nick's lips.

Nick smiled. "How about right now? And again in 15 minutes?"

"Even better," Grissom said, his hands sliding up Nick's arms to clasp his neck. "Even better."

Nick kissed Grissom lightly and then lifted his head. "But first you have to admit you lied about being a good dancer."

Grissom laughed. "OK, I'm a terrible dancer. But Catherine still suffered me for a longer time than she did you. Now shut up and concentrate."

So Nick did.