Title: Defining Love
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Gil tries to understand what he feels for Nick.
Sequel to "What Nick Wants"

At some point, Gil had started to take comfort in the fact that he was well on his way to middle-aged. It seemed like a good excuse to give up looking for things he didn't have or seeking fulfillment for unanswered desires or dreams. He took stock of everything that made up his life - his job, his friends, his accomplishments, his possessions, his interests - and he decided that he could be pretty satisfied. If something additional came along, fine, but he was perfectly OK if it didn't.

What Gil hadn't considered was that the "something" wasn't going to simply and neatly add itself to the rest of his life; it was going to strip away a few layers first. This scares him, because he cannot control it. Nick is breaking down defenses and habits it took Gil years to construct, without even appearing to notice their existence.

--- ooo ---

Gil isn't quite sure what woke him up, and he lies in the dark, listening. The window's open and he can hear distant traffic and a little closer, the voices of children playing, so it's morning or early afternoon. A look at the bedside clock shows it just past 10:30 and he's barely gotten an hour's sleep.

There's a vague pressure on his bladder, not enough to force him to get up. But he might as well do so and potentially save himself a wakeup later. He gets up and stretches his back, then idly pushes aside the blind of the window to check outside. He sees Nick's truck almost immediately. His initial joyful start is quickly replaced by anxiety. What's Nick doing here?

When he goes outside, he sees Nick is just sitting in the truck, his hand covering his eyes. He takes a couple of steps onto the front lawn, the grass dry and spiky against his bare soles, and then stands there waiting, the sun hot on his head, almost afraid to move forward.

When Nick sees him, he gets out of his truck and comes to him. Gil's pretty sure Nick is still wearing the same clothes as at work, so he hasn't been home yet. Nick looks somber, yet Gil senses that he's also excited about something.

"What are you doing here?" Gil asks.

Nick reaches out and smoothes the neck of Gil's T-shirt. "I came to tell you that I quit," he answers. "And that I love you."

--- ooo ---

Love is one of those words that defy definition. It can have as many different meanings as there are people uttering or thinking or hearing the word. Gil sometimes wonders if what he feels for Nick is love. It doesn't really matter, because naming the emotions won't change them or the unease and uncertainty with which he now faces his future.

He can still pull back. No commitments have been made on either side and he should find it fairly easy to stop this growing dependence on Nick and resume his old self. He has to move quickly though, because pretty soon it's going to be too late. If it isn't already.

--- ooo ---

Gil stops breathing. He looks into Nick's sparkling eyes, feels Nick's fingers running lightly along his neck and collarbone. He barely has time to register his incredulous joy, because panic sets in so quickly. Luckily he doesn't utter the first words that come to his mind: "Don't quit."

What Gil most wants to do is to walk back into the house and close the door behind him. He needs time to process this, work out what his response should be. He stares helplessly at Nick, even as inside his mind he's slumping against the closed door.

"It's OK, Gil," Nick says. "You don't have to say anything." He drops his hand to his side and smiles at Gil, cocking his head slightly. "You should get back to bed."

Gil looks back at his house, then at Nick.

"Don't quit, Nick," he finally says.

Nick's smile falters slightly.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

"No. Just... don't quit. Yet."

"OK Gil. I won't," Nick agrees quietly.

Gil reaches for Nick's hand. "Come inside with me, Nick. Come to bed."

--- ooo ---

What is the nature of love? What are its demands, its sacrifices, its rewards? With Nick at his side, the questions are no longer academic exercises, inspired by reading or by a case. And at 50, after a lifetime of short-term and non-permanent relationships, Gil doesn't know the answers. But he wants to. He needs to.

He lies awake, one arm pinned under a dozing Nick, the other folded behind his head. He turns his head and looks at Nick, taking in the slightly receding hairline, the wrinkles radiating from the eyes. He realizes with a start that Nick isn't so young himself any more.

He clenches and unclenches the fist of his pinned arm, feeling pins and needles. He rolls over a bit, trying not to disturb Nick, and kisses the top of his head.

Is this love? This deep contentment of having someone, this acceptance of the fear that it might all end tomorrow and that life would never be the same again, this lack of need to guard against that eventuality? It's probably not how poets would define it.

"I love you," he whispers. He kisses Nick again, feeling the bristly short hair under his lips, and breathes in the smell of Nick's shampoo.

When Gil pulls back, Nick's eyes are open. They stare at each other for a few seconds, then Nick smiles slightly and closes his eyes again. Gil tries to pull his arm out from underneath Nick, but while Nick's smile deepens, he doesn't move.

In the end, Gil rolls to his original position on his back and smiles up at the ceiling, the sound of Nick's even breathing soothing him back to sleep.

==========================

This is the last fic in this series.