Title: Distance
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
Warning: Spoiler for Who Are You?
Note: Sequel to Attraction.
Summary: Grissom invites Nick to stay.

He can't sleep. He's been lying on his side for over an hour, maybe close to two, and he's getting sore. The bedroom is too warm and the drone of distant traffic, though similar to the one he hears every day is just unfamiliar enough to irritate rather than soothe him.

Grissom shifts behind him and he tenses. If Grissom wakes up, this temporary limbo will be interrupted and he doesn't want that yet. He listens hard, only relaxing again when Grissom's quiet breathing resumes its slow even rhythm. With Grissom asleep it's easier to pretend that he's not here on sufferance, that he's welcome.

He shouldn't have accepted Grissom's invitation; even at that moment he'd known how reluctantly it had been issued, but he hadn't cared. Not then. Instead he gave into the overwhelming sense of relief that he wouldn't be spending the next hour alone and he didn't think much further than that. Following Grissom home, he even convinced himself that there's no better way to get over staring down the barrel of a gun than a good fuck.

Only it hadn't been so good. Grissom was almost business-like, quickly bringing him off and then rolling away from him. Still, he tried to return the favour and Grissom rebuffed him, gently but with an unmistakable finality.

"I guess it's time to get going," he said sitting up, his voice even, casual.

"You don't have to," Grissom responded, just as casually.

"No?" he asked, trying to understand what Grissom was offering. If anything.

"Whatever you want," Grissom shrugged, his eyes closing.

He thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded, even though Grissom wasn't looking at him, and lay down again. And so, here he is.

----- ooooo -----

I don't know why he's pretending to be asleep. It's pretty obvious he doesn't want to be here and I wonder why he stayed. At first I thought I was giving him what he wanted, but somewhere between the diner parking lot and home he must have had a change of heart. When he walked in, he was aloof, remote, and that didn't change even when I hugged him to me. Whenever we're together he might be more or less active, sometimes wanting control and sometimes, like that first time, leaving everything up to me, but this time it was like having sex with a stranger and nothing I did seemed to reach him, even though he came. When he turned towards me, I'd had enough of the charade.

I shouldn't have asked him to stay, when it was so obvious that he wanted to leave. When he lay down next to me, I realized I'd been holding my breath. I don't know if he did it for himself or for me, but he stayed.

----- ooooo -----

The stiller his body, the more his thoughts race and he tries to control them, put them in some kind of order.

'Did you think you were going die?' he imagines his brother asking him.

'Yes. Not at first, but then I saw in her eyes that she'd reached a decision. And even though she was standing so close, I didn't think I could do anything to stop her. I should have been able to, I'm a trained policeman. But I handled it all wrong.'

'So Grissom saved your life?'

'Yes.'

'So why are you angry at him?'

'I'm not.'

He's pathetic. Even when he's having an imaginary dialogue with his brother, he's lying.

'Because he made me stand there. When she turned away, I started to pull my weapon, and he told me not to move. He was so sure he was in control. What if he wasn't? What if she'd swung around again?'

'But she had the gun turned on him. He might have been killed as well.'

'I could have protected him if he'd let me pull my gun.'

'So why didn't you? Why did you obey?'

Because at that moment he had had an absolute, childlike confidence that Grissom wasn't going to let any harm come to him. It was only later that he remembered that a trust of that sort can be very misplaced, especially when given to someone who doesn't want it in the first place.

'Are you angry at him or at yourself?'

----- oooooo -----

He suddenly twists around. I'm lying on my back, my eyes closed, but I know he's looking at me.

"Grissom? Are you awake?" he whispers after a while.

"Yes."

"Why did you order me not to move?"

"What?"

"When I tried to pull my gun. Why did you stop me?"

I try to think back on what happened, but it's all blurry, the details already gone, almost like a dream.

"Did I? I don't know. I don't remember."

He's silent for a while and I can tell he doesn't believe me. He obviously sees something significant in that one moment, but I can't figure out what it might be.

"I don't remember. I'm sorry."

----- ooooo -----

He thinks he understands why Grissom is apologizing and that understanding causes him to let go of the anger, to forgive them both for what were just reactions to a sudden crazy situation. He reaches and traces Grissom's cheek.

"Gil. Thank you."

"I'm glad you're here, Nick," Grissom says after a while in a gruff voice.

----- oooooo -----

His kiss is hard and hungry, his lips hot and wet against mine. This time I know he wants it, he wants me, and I don't push him away. Instead I pull him as close as I can.