Title: Don't drip on your shirt...
By: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes, and a few other familiar and unfamiliar faces along the way!
Warnings: VERY AU and VERY fluffy! Minor character death.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Unbeta-ed: All mistakes will be mine
A/N 1: This was written literally years ago when I had two betas...and they both hated it!! Over the years I have revised it several times (this is v.3) and thought I might as well post it. It's a fic set around S.2 although there are no spoilers and really it's supposed to be funny...because I've told you that the chances are it isn't v.funny at all...what with there being a death and all!! It is completely finished it's just that I used to write fics without putting them in chappies as I went...so I still have to sort that out! Hope you enjoy! (Fingers Crossed...)

***

Nick hated having his evaluations.

 

He didn't know when the hatred had started.  Yes, he did; it was with that fucking riddle.  Now, he wasn't normally given to profanities, but he would always refer to that fucking riddle...well, as exactly that.

 

He hoped he had improved over the eighteen months since that fateful day; but Grissom just didn't seem to be predisposed towards him; hell, Warrick was his friend and he was just as good as him, but Grissom thought the sun shone out of his...

 

So, he sat in Grissom's office prepared for the worst; that was the most sensible thing he could do, keep calm and keep his temper.  Not that he had much of a temper, but Grissom could rile him quicker than a rattler under a horse's hoof.  Although, sensibly, he knew he would never lose his cool.  That would be playing into Grissom's hands and he had no intention of ever doing that.

 

"Well, Nick, how do you think you've done over the last few months?"

 

What the fuck?  He's never asked me for my opinion before. What does he want me to say?  That I think I've done a good job, a lousy job, what?  Catherine must been giving him lessons, obviously.

 

"I think I've done alright."   Nick chose the middle ground, but knew it wouldn't suit Grissom.

 

"That's a non-committal statement; you must have some idea how you've progressed..."  He paused before continuing.  "...or not, of course."

 

There we have it.  He doesn't think I've progressed at all; typical.  "Well, Grissom, as a matter of fact, I do think I've progressed a lot over the last year."

 

"You do?  How?"

 

"For a start, while I do value your opinion, because you have a lot of knowledge and experience, your way is not the only way to do the job and I think I can add an extra dimension to the work we do, by being...more empathetic to the needs of the victim or the victim's friends and relatives.  Sometimes cool detachment...that way doesn't work; it depends on the circumstances...of course..."  

 

Oh, God help me, he's staring at me over those fucking reading glasses; he thinks I'm talking a load of bullshit.   God, Stokes, you're an idiot and no wonder he thinks you're an idiot.  That would be...because you are!  

 

"I do think that there's room for both approaches..."  Nick's second attempt was mercifully cut short by Grissom's desk telephone.

 

"Grissom."  He answered the call.

 

Nick sat still; it was an effort not to fidget.  This was like being in front of the Principal and his Daddy, rolled into one, and the worst part was trying not to think that Grissom was hot.  NO.  NO.  Don't go there.  No, don't like Grissom; don't want Grissom - hold that thought.   Jeez...what's wrong?

 

"Gris?  You okay, man?"  As Nick had been trying to get rid of his hot Grissom image, the colour had drained from Grissom's face and he'd slumped back in his seat and taken off his glasses.  He didn't respond to Nick.

 

"I'll be there as soon as I can...don't...do anything...until I get there...please...as soon as I can, I've got to get a flight to LA.  Yes...thank you...I will...I'll be there as soon as I can."   He took the receiver away from his ear but didn't attempt to put it down; he just stared into space and looked, in Nick's opinion, as if he was about to vomit.

 

"Gris, what's wrong?  Tell me."  Nick stood up and moved to Gil's side.  He took the handset from Gil and replaced it and then stalled; what next?  Guess?  Gil still hadn't responded.

 

"Seems to me you've had some bad news; need to get a flight to LA?"

 

"Yes, I do...my mother's had a stroke, Nicky...she's on life support...but not..."  His explanation petered out.

 

So Gil Grissom had a mother after all; he'd never mentioned her and he called me, 'Nicky'.  "Let's get a flight for you...I can take you home to pack some stuff and then get you to the airport, no sweat; have you got an agent you use for flights, or shall I use mine?"

 

"Agent?"

 

"Yeah...she...no problem, I'll use mine."  Nick fished his cell out of his pocket and flipped through his numbers for Shelley's number, she did a twenty-four hour service for flight reservations.  He pressed call. 

 

"Hello, is Shelley there?  Oh, okay...name's Stokes - ID 70663.  I need a flight to LA as soon as possible, please...any flight...any seat.  Yeah.  Yeah.  Is that the best price?  Yeah...thanks.  Ticket name is Dr Gilbert Grissom, G-r-i-s-s-o-m.  Yeah, I know it's not, but he's a friend and his mother's critically ill...on life support...yeah...hey, that's good, thanks.  So that's AA red eye 0500...first class.  I'll take him to the airport and pick up the ticket for him.  You've been very helpful, thank you very much.  Thank you, I'll tell him.  Bye.

 

"That's fixed, Gris.  Got you a ticket on American Airlines going out of Vegas at five this morning; got a first class seat, that's all that was left but she's given me a twenty-percent discount.  I'll have to go to the airport with you anyway, to sign for the ticket. 

 

"So, we've got three hours.  You tidy your files away, lock up anything that needs locking up and get your stuff.  I'll call Catherine and tell her...and Ecklie...

 

"Then I'll take you home so you can change and pack a few things and then we can go straight to McCarran; that okay?"

 

"You've done all that...for me?"

 

"Yeah.  Come on don't hang about, gotta get you to LA."

 

"Thank you, Nick.  You're very kind, you know that?"

 

"You'd do the same, man, come on."

 

"I wouldn't think to do it...no, I wouldn't have done it."  Grissom seemed quite emphatic that he wouldn't do for Nick, what Nick had just done for him.

 

"It's okay; come on."

 

Nick used his cell to call Catherine, who was out at a scene.  He explained what had happened and what he'd done.  Of course, Catherine wanted to switch places with Nick, but she couldn't because Nick needed to sign for Grissom's flight ticket.  Catherine couldn't do anything about that and she seemed annoyed.

 

Nick then called Ecklie, at home, since this was an emergency and he needed to be notified of all emergencies.  He seemed to appreciate all Nick had done, but then Ecklie always did appreciate Nick; pity it wasn't reciprocated.  By the time Nick had finished these tasks, Grissom was ready to leave. 

 

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

 

"Yes, I am.  Now come on...there shouldn't be too much traffic around.  We need to be at McCarran by four, no later."

 

"Thank you, Nick."

 

"You're welcome."

 

They set off in Nick's truck, leaving Grissom's at the lab.  They'd just turned onto Industrial when Nick had a thought.

 

"You got cash, man?  Do you need to get some out?"

 

"I don't know.  I've got a fifty...that's not enough is it?  I'll need a cab, I don't know."

 

"You got your card with you?"

 

"I...no, no.  I don't take it to work."

 

"We'll stop at my ATM then, and get you a couple of hundred bucks, tide you over; save you having to worry about it at the airport; here it is."  Nick put his hazards on and left the truck idling while he got the money for Grissom.  In two or three minutes they were on their way again.  The traffic was unusually light; Vegas never really slept, so traffic could be heavy at any time of the day or night.  Grissom didn't speak, so neither did Nick.

 

At Grissom's place, Nick followed him into his townhouse; he hadn't been there in over a year; it didn't seem to have changed much.  Once inside, Grissom seemed to become more aware of what he'd got to do.

 

"I'll take a quick shower and then pack.  Twenty minutes should do it...is that okay?  Help yourself to coffee, or juice, or whatever."

 

"Don't worry about me, just get yourself ready.  Can I do anything?"

 

"No...that's okay."

 

"Right.  Go."

 

"Yes.  Okay."

 

Nick wondered about a while and looked at Grissom's books and bits and pieces; his Momma would have killed him for his impertinence, but he'd never have the chance again, to look inside the private world of Gil Grissom.  So he relished the few minutes he had, just looking and committing to memory the things Grissom liked when he wasn't working.  Except...most everything was work related; forensic, bugs, science stuff.   'Gil the geek', seemed like an apt name for his boss, based on the contents of his bookshelves.

 

There were one or two - three to be exact - photographs of a white haired woman.  In one of them she was standing with a younger Grissom.  His Momma then.  She looked like a Momma should, kindly and smiling; like she had time for her son.   Nick sighed and moved on. 

 

Nineteen minutes later, Grissom emerged; and Nick almost gasped at the sight of him in jeans and sweatshirt, his hair damp and curlier than usual...God, he looked hot.  NO.  NO.  NO.   He'd packed a small holdall and was looking around the room.

 

"Can't think what I need to do..."

 

"Look, don't bother with that now.  If you want, give me a key and if you think of anything you can call me and I'll see to it."

 

"Would you?"

 

"Yes.  Now come on."

 

"Spare key.  Here."  He retrieved a key from a desk drawer and gave it to Nick.

 

"Ready?"

 

"Ready."

 

Grissom locked up and gave the alarm code to Nick, it was his mother's birthday, he said, and then stood still for a few moments as if remembering what had happened.   On the drive to the airport, Grissom was still quiet, though he made a few observations; 'the traffic was light', ' he hoped the flight would be on time', but nothing of any consequence.  Actually, Nick thought it was sad, that he couldn't talk about his mother.  Nick didn't really see eye to eye with his Momma, but after all she was his Momma, and the only one he was likely to have.

 

At the airport Nick insisted on carrying Grissom's holdall and they made their way to the ticket desk, where Nick signed for the flight ticket.  He took Grissom to the security check-in, told him which gate he needed and then set down the holdall.

 

"I suppose wishing you good luck is not the right thing to say but I hope it's goes okay...you take care of yourself and remember to call if there's anything you need, or I need to do at your place.  Okay?"

 

"Thank you, Nicky...you've been...you've been very...good...I'll call you, when I...well...you know."  Nick had never heard Grissom so lost for words, but then it wasn't every day that your Mom had a stroke.

 

"Yes, I do; you have my sympathies, Gil...this isn't going to be easy."

 

Grissom couldn't speak, but he did something so out of character that Nick nearly jumped out of his skin; in surprise and shock.

 

He hugged Nick.

 

Momentarily, Nick froze at the contact, but then responded and wrapped his own arms around Grissom's back.  It was a warm, friendly hug in strong arms, and Nick felt the familiar tears sting his eyes; he was a secret cry baby...he knew that.   But this was Gil Grissom, after all, and he'd been called 'Nicky' again and...God, he'd called Gris, 'Gil'.   Grissom pulled away but kept a hand on Nick's shoulder.

 

"Thanks, Nick."  Nick nodded and handed him the holdall and then he was gone; he didn't look back, but Nick stared at his back until he was out of sight.

***

Nick went back to work, but he'd been unnerved by the uncharacteristic behaviour of his supervisor.  Okay, there were exceptional circumstances; it seemed his mother could be dying.  He hoped Grissom got there in time.  Catherine gave him a grilling, but he told her no more than he had before; he really didn't have any more information, but he didn't say that he had Grissom's key and was waiting for a call from him - if he did call.    He probably wouldn't.

 

The next shift was a fairly quiet one and Nick got home on time for once.  He had a bowl of cereal and was watching some sports channel, or other, when his cell rang.  He didn't recognise the caller's number.

 

"Hello."  Was all he was prepared to give away.

 

"Nick, it's Gil, are you okay to speak?"

 

"Oh.  Hello.  Yes.  I'm at home, how are things?"  He couldn't make himself say 'Gil'.

 

"Well; Mom passed away yesterday afternoon.  I was with her..."

 

"I'm really sorry, Gil, you have my heartfelt sympathies, man."

 

"Thanks, Nick.  In the end it was very peaceful.  She had a stroke at a little party she was at...enjoying herself, and then just went down...fine one moment, unconscious the next.  She never regained consciousness at all and was declared brain dead, but she was on life support...only until I got there.  That was stipulated in her medical records.  Anyway, I sat with her; she wanted her organs used...if they could, but they ruled it out...so they switched off the machine in the early afternoon and she...it was peaceful...like I said."

 

Nick thought he heard Gil's voice break, and his own tears just happened, flowing down his cheeks.

 

"Man...I am so sorry, Gil.  It's so sad."

 

"Yes, it is."

 

They were both silent for a long moment, then Gil spoke again.

 

"There's no funeral, per se...Mom wanted her body to be used by med students, she thought that would be fun.  She was like that, you know, fun.  I mean, some people thought she was a bit of an oddball, but she just had a sense of the ridiculous, you know?"

 

"Yeah."  Nick knew exactly what he meant.  Like mother, like son.

 

"Anyway; we're having a thanksgiving service for her in two days time and I'll stay over for that, there's not much to do, she arranged it all herself, and then I'll be back...but I forgot about my cockroaches.  Nick, could you feed them for me?"

 

"Sure, no problem...what do I do?"

 

"They're omnivorous, so they'll eat anything, but I like to give them good stuff to keep them in tip top condition...for racing.  They're partial to over ripe peaches so if you could get a couple from the supermarket they'll love you forever."

 

"A cockroach would love me?  That's not nice..."

 

"...maybe not then; they're in my spare bedroom.  If you could do that I would be very grateful; they would be very grateful."

 

"As long as you don't expect me to bond with them."

 

"No, you're okay, they know who their Daddy is."  He chuckled, but then stopped, abruptly.  "...will you tell them at work for me, Nicky?"

 

"If that's what you want, of course."

 

"I would prefer it...if you don't mind?"

 

"I don't mind, man; if I can be of any more help, you just let me know."

 

"You have been of enormous help, Nick."

 

"Hardly done anything; happy to be of service."

 

"Yeah.  Well.  Okay?"

 

"Yeah, okay, got it covered.  Hope...it, you know, goes okay."

 

"Yes.  Thank you, again.  Bye."

 

"Bye.

 

Nick sat back and reflected on the call from Gil Grissom.  It was almost as if he was another person; totally unlike the one he was used to.  It really was weird, surreal...yes, it was surreal.  But sad, poor guy'd lost his Mom.   She actually sounded like a  trouper...leaving instructions, good for her.  Oddball?  Gil obviously took after her;  Gil?  Mmmm.  His cell ringing again broke his reverie.

 

It was the same number as before.

 

"Gil?"

 

"Yes, Nick.  I'm really sorry, I forgot to thank you..."

 

"...you did thank me, more than once."

 

"No.  For the ticket, arranging the flight.  Getting me some cash; getting me on my way, that was very kind and thoughtful...you really helped me.  I think I was in shock.  Obviously I'll pay you back as soon I get home; is that okay, you're not stuck for cash are you, because of me?"

 

"No, I'm okay, got a bit put by.  Don't worry, when you're ready."

 

"You are...you're a good boy..."

 

"...I'm not a boy."  Nick was immediately contrite at the manner of his retort.  "Sorry, that didn't come out right, Gil, it's just that..."

 

"...no, Nick, I'm the one who should be sorry, of course you're not a boy, and it was wrong of me to say that.  Please accept my apologies."

 

"Nothing to apologise for, Gil, honestly, just family stuff you know?  Youngest of seven and always the kid, never treated like an adult."  It would have helped, he supposed, if he'd actually acted like an adult.

 

"Seven?   I'd forgotten that; I was an only child, there's a big difference."

 

"I suppose there are pros and cons for both.  I fervently wished, when I was about ten, that I was an only kid..."

 

"...I never did want brothers and sisters, it seemed to me they would get in the way..."

 

"Tell me about it; I'm sorry anyway."

 

"Don't be.  Nick?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Thanks...for everything."

 

"You're welcome.".

 

"Bye."

 

"Bye."

 

Nick reflected on the second call from Gil.  He'd sounded friendly, but there was more; he'd sounded as if he actually liked him.  It couldn't be true; it was just the circumstances.   Anyway, he had chores to do now; first of all, Ecklie.  He called Ecklie at work and told him the news.  He didn't know exactly when Gil was coming home but it wouldn't be long after his Mom's thanksgiving service.  That was all he could say, but he agreed with Ecklie that he would tell the shift that night, and then the rest of the lab would get to hear.

 

On the way to Gil's house he stopped at a supermarket and specifically asked if they'd got any old peaches out back that he could buy, he needed them to feed...cockroaches.  'Not Dr Grissom's by any chance?'  He'd laughed and said Dr Grissom was unexpectedly out of town and he was on cockroach patrol.  It seemed they kept the old fruit and gave it to Gil, as they gave it to Nick.  He was taken aback at their kindness.   He imagined that they must like Gil Grissom, or they wouldn't do it.  Yet another snippet of 'The Private Grissom',  which Nick thought was a good title for this new man he was getting to know.

 

The next obstacle was feeding them; he hadn't asked if they needed cleaning.  He could google it and find out: how did you clean out a cockroach cage - vivarium?  He could google, cockroach care.  They were actually amazingly friendly, well for 'roaches.  They moved towards him and he tried not to twitch; they were in a large glass tank and when he'd taken the top off and put the peaches inside they were all over them very quickly.  So Gil was right, they did like peaches - how weird was that?  He watched them for a little time and then thought he'd call Gil, then thought he shouldn't bother him.  They didn't look dirty, but then he had a brainwave.

 

Gil was bound to have books on the subject; he'd have a look around and find a book on cockroaches and see what it said.  There were bookshelves all around this room, overspill, he thought.   He looked and there were books on everything he could imagine, (unlike the living room that seemed primarily work focussed) he didn't know why that surprised him...Gil knew everything.  On the bottom shelves there were DVDs lined up neatly.  So what did Grissom watch when he relaxed?  He crouched down to look at the titles...

 

...and jumped up as if he'd touched a live wire...

***

 

...in that neat line there were DVDs of porn.  But not just any porn.  This was gay porn.  Gil Grissom had a collection of gay porn!  

 

Nick crouched down again; just in case he'd been mistaken...he hadn't.   The titles spoke for themselves.  'Hot Men on Vacation', ‘Dudes Dancin'', and especially, 'Day Gay - Night Queer'.  There were nine DVDs.  He'd counted them very carefully.  He felt faint; he sat back on his backside as he thought about his discovery.  Gil Grissom wasn't gay; he probably had them for learning purposes...he just had a thirst for knowledge, any and all knowledge.  Look at him when he was at the Dominion, all over the Lady's...tools of her trade; all the dildos, the toys, the elaborate penises.  He'd been looking at...he'd been really interested in the penises on show...

 

Oh, God; this was major shit!  Gil Grissom was probably, very probably, gay.  Oh, God.

 

He called me 'boy', a 'good boy'.  Some gay men refer to themselves, or their lovers as 'boys'...didn't they?  Nick could not remember the last time he'd been so shocked by a discovery; it could have been when he'd accidentally seen his Momma and Daddy having sex.  But this was even worse, somehow.  So much worse.

 

Nick sat on the floor for maybe thirty minutes or more, just staring at the DVDs and thinking about it all.  What on earth was he going to do...he thought Gil Grissom was just about the hottest guy he'd ever wanted and he was gay.  Just like Nick...although Nick liked to think he was bi-sexual; it explained why he did like some girls.  Though his last girl was a prostitute who turned up dead, covered in Nick's DNA; he shuddered as he remembered the close call.  There had been no girls since.  Or men...for that matter.

 

One of his main reasons for leaving Texas had been his Momma and his sisters' trying to fix him up with suitable girls...'it was about time their boy married'.  The thing is, even before the dead girl, he really preferred men.  And now?  Now he really wanted Gil Grissom. 

 

He'd wanted that guy - Denny Matthews - and as it turned out, Denny wanted him, and for a year they met up in odd secret places and did the business.  No penetration, they'd both been too scared, but they'd done a load of other stuff, though they'd never taken all their clothes off...ever, but it was still better than with the women he'd been with.  And then Denny got married and it all stopped and the last Nick had heard he was a drunk with two kids.  And Nick moved to Vegas...

 

And now he sat on the floor in his boss's spare bedroom, ostensibly feeding his racing cockroaches.  He needed a plan, that's what he needed.  Think it through and come up with some kind of plan...to do...what exactly?   If he knew that, he could formulate a plan.   That was his plan.  Plan to have a plan.  That was about as far as his mind could go; he'd better leave Gil's house, or his neighbours might become suspicious and tell Gil that Nick had been, sitting on the floor of his room staring at his porn collection.  No, scratch that, insert gay before porn.

 

Nick got back home and showered...jacked off to Gil's image...and then went to bed.  He had a very disturbed night's (day's) sleep.  He dreamed of his parents making love - with Denny.  Gil making love with Denny.  Denny and his wife...but Nick was never in his own dreams and he awoke disappointed.   He showered again and jacked off again to Gil's image; racier this time...Gil was behind him.

 

He got to work early and tried to complete some work on old cases but he was worried about telling everyone about Gil mother's death.  He wished that Ecklie had done it now, but Gil had asked him to do it and he would not break a promise.  No, not now Gil was gay. Very probably.  Might be...gay. 

 

He jumped when Catherine came up behind him and asked if he'd heard anything.  What was it with his nerves?

 

"Yes, Gil called me this morning."  Will she notice that I called him Gil?

 

"It's 'Gil' now then, is it?  So what's the news?"

 

"His Momma died yesterday afternoon...he was with her."

 

"That's sad.  When's he coming back?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"You seem to know everything else."

 

"I don't.  What d'you mean?"

 

"Well he told you about his mother in the first instance."

 

"Jeez, Catherine, I told you I was having my evaluation when he had the call about his Mom and I just helped him out, is all."

 

"Fine. I'll tell the shift."

 

"Errr...actually Gil asked me to do it, as did Ecklie, so if you don't mind, I think I should fulfil my obligation."

 

"Really?  Right, you do that."

 

Nick couldn't, for the life of him understand why Catherine was so pissed about it, it was just circumstances and he'd helped out Gil when he needed it most.  If she'd been there instead of him she would have done the same...wouldn't she?

 

He made his way to the briefing room, everyone was ready.  Catherine sat in Gil's usual seat.

 

"Nick has an announcement to make."

 

"Yes, I do.  Grissom wanted me to tell y'all that his mother died...peacefully, yesterday afternoon, he was with her.  She's not having a funeral, she's left her body to the University for the students.  They're having a thanksgiving service for her - day after tomorrow - and he didn't say when he'd be back."

 

"I'd better go and feed his cockroaches, then."  Sara had done some 'cockroach caring' in the past.

 

"I've got it covered: he gave me his key and instructions."

 

"Why would he do that?"

 

"Because I was with him when he had the call from LA and I helped him out.  What is this?  Some sort of competition to see who has the boss's favour?  He was shocked at the news and I was there...that's all there is to it."

 

"Did he call Ecklie?"

 

"No, I did, he asked me to do that too and to tell you all...are you looking for some hidden agenda?"

 

"You're the one getting twitchy over it, Nick."  Catherine oozed sarcasm.

 

"Is it any wonder when you're all out to shoot the messenger?"

 

"He's never asked you to look after the cockroaches; he's always asked me."  Sara was not giving up on the 'roaches.

 

"Right.  Were you in his office when he had the call?"

 

"No, but he could have called...I..."

 

"You didn't see how shocked he was to learn that his mother was dying?"

 

"No, but he didn't know she wasn't dying then..."

 

"Oh?  How do you figure that out?"

 

"Because she didn't die until yesterday afternoon."

 

"And was that because they'd put her on a life support system until he could get there?"

 

Finally, Sara lost the wind out of her sails.  "Oh."

 

"Yes.  ‘Oh'...he was told what had happened and that they planned to turn off the life support and he asked them to wait until he could get there."   Okay, so he'd embellished what he actually knew, but it was probably the truth.

 

Catherine and Sara both seemed to be subdued by this news.

 

"Do you think we could have our assignments now?"  Warrick wanted to know.

 

"Now that's a good idea."  Nick felt relieved to be saved by Warrick.  In truth he'd never realised just how territorial Catherine and Sara were about Gil...Gris...Grissom.  Well, Sara...maybe, but Catherine?

 

Nick was sent out to a burglary on his own.  He was as diligent as always, but he kept having flashes of those DVD title.  He just couldn't quite reconcile the DVDs to Gil...Grissom...Gris.  He must get back in the habit of calling him ‘Gris'. 

 

His shift didn't finish early this time; they all ended up at a multiple vehicle crash on the I-15.  It was late morning as he walked into his condo; ready for a shower and something to eat; then early to bed and stop off at Gil's on his way to work; that was the plan.  He still hadn't got a plan about the gay porn.  That plan, was a work in progress.  He was kind of working on it...at least he was working on a title for that plan anyway. 

 

He was undressing when his cell rang.   It was the number Gil was using.

 

"Hey, Gil?"

 

"Oh, Nicky, I haven't woken you have I?  I expected it to go to messaging."

 

"No, man, we had a vehicular pile up on the Interstate.  Just got in."

 

"I'm sorry to call again, but I just wondered if the cockroaches were okay?"

 

"Hey, they're fine...they told me they're missing you though?"

 

"They did?"  Gil sounded incredulous.  "Oh, you're joking...sorry."

 

"No, I'm sorry Gil...it's not the time to joke.  How're you holding up?"

 

"It's always time to joke; we deal with way too much serious stuff.  Mom liked to joke; I'll miss her, even though we didn't live close by we saw a fair bit of one another and had a webcam...you know she was extremely IT literate for a woman in her late seventies.  That was what she did, she ran a little business helping disabled people with IT.  Actually, I'm surprised at how successful it appears to have been.  We never really talked about the business.  She's got...she had...a partner, Poppy.  Poppy, would you believe it?

 

"Anyway, Poppy is going to continue with the business and I'm going to be the sleeping partner; Poppy wouldn't let me give her the company...I would have done.  Mom left it to me and since it's...well, very successful, it's going to need a fair amount of capital for Poppy to buy me out, but she doesn't want to anyway...says I should keep it as that's what my Mom wanted.  Women; they usually get their own way, I find.  What did they say at work, Nicky?"

 

Nick nearly didn't respond he'd been totally blown away by Gil Grissom chatting to him, chatting; Gil Grissom had been chatting to him.  He would swear on oath in court that Gil Grissom had never spoken for that length of time to him, ever before.  Shock...it was shock at his mother's death, that's why he was talking to him.

"Ecklie sends his condolences, but wanted to know when you'll be back.  Everyone was sad to hear the news and wishes you well."

 

"Wasn't Catherine upset that I hadn't spoken to her...and Sara that I hadn't asked her to feed the cockroaches?"

***

 

Nick was open mouthed.  How come Gil Grissom knew so much about his staff?  What, then, did he know about him?

 

"Nicky?  You there?"

 

"Yeah.  Yeah...sorry, just a little shocked that you guessed exactly how Catherine and Sara...jeez they gave me the third degree."

 

"I'm sorry I should have warned you, or maybe spoken to them both...it would have been easier."

 

Now Nick was hurt.  It was only accidental then, that Gil had asked him to do these things for him...nothing more.

 

"Nick, are you there?  Are you okay?"

 

"Oh, sorry, lost in thought I guess...yeah, it would have been easier..."

 

"Nicky, are you okay, you suddenly seem, I don't know...different."

 

"No, I'm fine, tired, is all, you know, long shift."  Nick felt as if he'd been punched in the gut; the air knocked from him.

 

"Yes, of course you are, I just called to see how the cockroaches were...so, I'll go then.  I'll be back on Saturday, I thought, and then come back to work on Monday...will you tell Ecklie and the others?  Or do you want me to call them?"

 

"I can tell them, if that's what you want." 

 

"I wouldn't ask you otherwise, would I?  There's a change in your tone Nick...is there something wrong?"

 

How the hell can the fucking man tell something like that over a long distance call and be completely clueless when I stand in front of him.  Nick was at a loss to explain his feelings.  He'd guessed that it was only because he was there in the room when the call had come in, that's what he'd told the others, and it turned out he was right...so why was he so disappointed?

 

"Nothing's wrong.  No; nothing."  For God's sake think of something to say.  "The service for your Mom is tomorrow isn't it?"

 

"Yes, at midday, and then we're going to a favourite little restaurant of hers, having a lunch.   There's no family to speak of...a couple of cousins, but she had a lot of friends...she's always had a lot of friends.  Have I done something, Nick?  Something to you?"

 

"NO!  No...of course not...why do you think that?"

 

"You know me; open mouth, jump in...Mom always said I had the tact of a raging bull...head down and straight for it...she had some funny sayings...she was deaf, did you know?"

 

"No, I didn't, but she spoke didn't she?  You said you used the webcam."  Nick felt stupid now; no change there then; Gris...Gil was being kind to him.

 

"Oh yes...she spoke and signed and read lips, so when we communicated it was usually by all three methods, it worked well...it worked well...but...I will miss her..."

 

"Of course you will, Gil, but it seems you had a good one there and you have real good memories to keep...that'll be...good..."  Jeez he sounded like a moron; if he knew what a moron sounded like.  Oh, that would be him.

 

"Yes, you're right.  What about your Mom?  You've never said."

 

Any more than you did.  "Not much to say really; she always worked, a lot.  I had a nurse, Maria, she was the housekeeper, but she looked after me."

 

"And six brothers and sisters....I think I could do with one or two now."

 

"Yeah...but you had your Momma all to yourself."

 

"When you put it like that.   You had to fight for attention?"

 

"Yeah...all the time; but mostly from her work.  Looking back...she didn't expect to have me...and she'd missed a lot already with six other kids...so..."

 

"Yes, I see.  My Mom was always there.  What does your mother do, is she retired?"

 

"Hell no; retirement is not a word used in the Stokes family.  She's the DA in Dallas."

 

"Your mother's the DA?  In Dallas?"

 

"Yes.  What's with that?"  There he was again, on the defensive.

 

"Nothing, Nick, nothing at all; it's just something I thought you might have told people...me."

 

"Why's that?  What difference would it make?"

 

"None at all.  None at all...it's just something to be proud of, I guess."

 

"Is it?  It is...you're right.  So Daddy's a judge and he's been nominated for the Texas Supreme Court.  My brother's a Congressman.  Two sisters are lawyers, one public, one private; another sister is a doctor; another a journalist with the New York Times and the last one...closest to me...is a Colonel in the USAF and she's on the astronaut training programme.  Me...well, I'm a CSI, on graveyard in Vegas."

 

There was a silence.

 

"Jesus Christ, Nicky, don't say that.  You're a scientist, you've got an excellent degree.  I've seen your grades...when you applied.  It must be fucking difficult."

 

Well, Nick had never heard Gil swear before and he sounded...kind, yes, that was the tone he heard in his voice.  He was still calling him, Nicky, too.

 

"Well...not really; it's not so bad since I left, there's less pressure."

 

"Look.  Will you pick me up when I get in on Saturday?  I haven't booked a flight yet; I better do that now, otherwise I might not be coming back on Saturday."

 

"I can do that, if you want?  With my agent."

 

"Could you?  That would be a real help, but don't you have to pick up and sign for the ticket?"

 

"Normally; give me ten minutes and I'll see what I can fix up.  You want me to try?"

 

"Yes, please."

 

"Okay...what time?"

 

"Morning would be good; not too early, mid-morning?  Whatever you can get, I'll leave it in your capable hands."

 

Capable?  He called me capable; at getting airline tickets anyway.

 

"I'll call you back on this number - okay?"

 

"That'd be good, Mom's place, that's where I am."

 

"Okay.  Bye."

 

"Bye and thanks again, Nicky."

 

Seven minutes.  That was all it took for Nick to get a flight out of LA; he got around the fact that he wasn't the actual flier...Shelley was good like that.

 

He called Gil back and he picked up on the first ring.  "Nicky?"

 

"Yeah; all done, Blue this time, out of LA at eleven am.  Not first class, but they've got good seats anyway."

 

"Nick, I owe you big time.  I'll pay all my debts as soon as I get back."

 

Nick didn't know what to say next; he knew what he wanted to say.  ‘Is it true you're gay?'  Instead he said.  "I'll pick you up, and take you to your truck..."

 

"...I don't want to put you out any more than I already have.  I could get a cab, but..."

 

"...I don't mind."

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yes...I'm sure."

 

"Actually, I'm bringing some stuff back with me.  I've started going through Mom's stuff and...there are some things I just can't throw away.  I'll have to do a few trips over the next few months.  I don't want anyone going in there, you know, a stranger, to clear it; I want to go through everything...for Mom...although I must say she was very tidy and very economical with her possessions."

 

"Well, if you ever need any help, man, you know where I am."

 

"Yes, I do.  That's very kind of you; that's something I've learned about you Nicky, how kind you are, you have been to me...and I know you have been to, you know, relatives...victims and..."  His speech faltered.

 

"It's nothing man, I would always help out you know that."

 

"Yes.  I'd better let you go, you've been working over and here I am, taking up your personal time."

 

"No sweat, man, I'm glad I could help."

 

"You did help me, you have helped me, a great deal.  I'll call again before I leave, is that okay ?"

 

"Of course it is; anytime, and like you said, if my cell is off leave a message."  There was no way he would turn off his cell.

 

"I will.  Thank you, yet again."

 

"You're welcome, yet again.  And...good luck with the service for your Mom; are you giving a eulogy?"

 

"Oh, God...I am.  I've written some stuff and then deleted it...then retrieved it; in fact my call to you was respite from that task, I can't seem to get what I think in my head out of my mouth, or, more accurately, out of my fingertips."

 

Nick would never have any idea why he ever said what he said next.

 

"If you want to e-mail it to me...I could read it for you, you know, a different perspective.  I didn't know her, obviously, but I could tell if you were saying the right things; you know if it sounded right to someone who didn't know her then it would be good for the people that did...if you get what I'm saying...I don't know if I do..."  Babbling; he was babbling, moron Stokes rearing his ugly head again.

 

"Nicky."

 

Then silence.  What if he'd overstepped the mark.  "Man, it was only a suggestion, if you don't want to..."

***

 

"Nicky?  You'd do that for me?  For Mom?"

 

"No problem, that's if you want me to."

 

"I think it would be of enormous help...the fact that you don't know her would be of benefit to see if it reads okay...I mean some of the people will only be acquaintances...and won't know her well...you sure, Nicky?"

 

"Do it...quit asking."

 

"I will...I don't know how to thank you."

 

"Just send it through. Man!"

 

They spent a few minutes with Gil taking his flight details, with the ID number he'd need for the ticket and then Nick's home e-mail address.

 

"Right I'll send it...but make sure you get your sleep Nick...I don't want to be the one to keep you bleary eyed and tired for work."

 

"Yes Sir; now send it, okay?"

 

"Will do...I have no words to thank you for all these kindnesses, Nick, so I'll say see you soon.   At McCarran."

 

"At McCarran."

 

"Bye."

 

"Bye."

 

Nick sat back; he was in his shorts and was sitting on his bed.  He needed to shower... and think about Gil Grissom; what did it all mean?  Was he just being grateful that Nick had been so helpful - was he using him?  No...whatever else he might, or might not be doing, he wasn't manipulative; he was straightforward....or was that gayforward?

 

Nick took his shower and didn't jack off at all...he was busy thinking about every little thing Gil had said and how he'd put a spin on it....and then told him about his family;  at least Gil knew he wasn't a braggart.  Only Gil knew (now) the full extent of the Stokes dynasty.   But, when Nick thought about what he'd said he supposed Gil would feel sorry for him...he couldn't win.

 

He finished showering and put on some old sweats; he went to the kitchen and looked around for something to eat...he couldn't find anything that fired his enthusiasm, so settled for a bowl of cereal.  He made himself a mug of tea - not his usual drink - but he thought it would make a change from coffee or juice.

 

He ambled over to his computer and fired the thing up; it was quite new and a lot faster than his old one and in much less than a minute he was in his mailbox and the usual things popped into it and then lastly, one from ggrissom@aol with an attachment and he presumed it was the eulogy.

 

He opened and read the mail.

 

‘Nick

 

My poor offering is attached.  I don't know if there are any rules one should abide by when writing such a thing.  My mother did not approve of rules anyway.

 

I hope this feels OK to you; please give me your honest opinion.

 

Any suggestions you have will be gratefully received.

 

Regards,

 

Gil'

 

Nick opened the attachment and read the eulogy.

 

He was virtually in a puddle at his computer desk, he'd had to find a box of tissues and there were dozens of sodden tissues littering his desk.

 

He had to respond to Gil, but what would he say; what could he say.  He sat for a few minutes trying to get himself under control.  Then he thought of what to say, he clicked ‘reply' and wrote his message.

 

‘Gil

 

Don't change a word.  You had a wonderful Mom and she has a wonderful son.

 

Nick'

 

He pressed ‘send', and sat back.  He needed to get to bed, he would sleep well today he had no doubt about that.  And he did.

 

On his way to work, via the cockroaches and the gay porn collection, or GPC, as he now referred to it (and which he studiously ignored), he realised he hadn't checked his e-mails to see if Gil had replied.  He'd access them at work and check.  The GPC hadn't moved or changed their titles, so he'd glanced at them as he'd thought he might have been hallucinating...that they wouldn't be there when he went into the room again.  But they were there, same place, no movement at all.

 

Nick kept thinking about them at odd moments. Like earlier, when he was shaving and getting ready for work, he'd have a moment and think that of all the people he'd ever met, Gil Grissom was the one person he would have bet his life on wouldn't have a porn collection of any type, let alone a GPC.  People surprised him constantly, and that was doing the job he did, but he'd never thought of Gil Grissom as anything other than rather asexual, he supposed.  

 

He was also supposed to have dated that woman in fingerprints, who'd said he'd bored the pants off her, or not, as it turned out.  Then there was that anthropologist...Teri...she was okay but not that beautiful, in Nick's opinion, and she'd dumped him anyway.  Perhaps he was gay and couldn't get it up for women.   That'd be interesting.  

 

Nick eventually arrived at work and was rather startled; he could hardly remember the drive from Gil's house.  He hoped he hadn't crashed, and decided he'd have known if he had.  Concentrate Nick...Nicky...concentrate.   On what - the GPC and/or Gil Grissom?

 

He found an empty lab and accessed his mail account and yes, there it was: a reply.  He took several deep breaths and looked around.  The coast was clear.  Good God, he was becoming paranoid, about what, about whom?  Well the GPC and Gil Grissom...and Catherine and Sara; anything else?  He didn't think so...that was enough to be going on with...

 

The mail opened up before him and he read it, but not before checking his back again.

 

‘Nick

 

I don't know how many times in the last few days I've called you ‘kind'; but it seems right, because you have been so kind to me and it continues with your response about the eulogy.

 

The words seemed to me to be wholly inadequate and I know I cannot hope to encompass all Mom did in her life, but I think I've captured a flavour of it, and to me, naturally, the best thing about her was that she was ‘my Mom'.

 

I have always considered you to be close colleague, a trainee maybe, my team member, a work partner, but I hope that from now on I can call you a friend.

 

I look forward to seeing you on Saturday and once again thank you for all your kindnesses towards me – that word again!

 

Regards

 

Gil'

 

Nick was sure that at any moment his tears would well up and slip down his cheeks.  Gil Grissom  - his friend.  Wow.  It wasn't just that he was in the room then, it is because he helped him and was kind.   He liked being ‘kind'; when he was a small boy Maria had said he was a ‘kind little boy'.  Good job he'd practised for this event then; he thought he had a tattoo on his forehead as he went to the briefing room.  It proclaimed, ‘GIL'S MY FRIEND'...and underneath, a smaller one stated,  ‘Eat your hearts out, Catherine and Sara!'

***

He sailed through his work, everything fell into place; one of those unusual nights when the evidence was clear, the suspects stupid and the results just rolled in; in fact he couldn't remember ever having such a good shift.  He secretly wished Gil was in to see it, because there was no way he could rely on Catherine to tell Gil just how good it had been...he had been.  Okay, so most of it was just lucky happenstance, (that was a word his Grandma Stokes' was fond of using...) but hell, it made him feel good.

 

Jim Brass was the only person to pass any comment. ‘On a roll tonight Nicky...keep up the good work and we'll all be able to retire early.'  Okay, he'd called him, Nicky, and that really was only Gil's prerogative now but nevertheless, he felt good having the acknowledgment.

 

It was at that moment that he remembered he still needed to have his evaluation.  Shit.  He'd forgotten all about that while he'd been wrapped up in being ‘kind'...perhaps the ‘friend' thing wouldn't last too long after all.  It had been good while it lasted.

 

He was on his way home only an hour after shift ended; he'd declined Catherine's offer of breakfast.  He couldn't be bothered with her trying to make nice.  He liked Catherine...most of the time, but she could be a - well - a bitch....mind you, her period could be due.  He'd made himself scarce when he sisters were coming on....now that was hell on earth!  They had collective PMT, apparently a usual phenomenon when a load of women lived together; his Momma and Maria probably were on at the same time, but they didn't make any fuss unlike the combined Stokes' girls.

 

But, he'd been an authority at school about these things, advising boys how to handle their girlfriends at ‘that time of the month'. There was little he didn't know about girls, what they liked and disliked; what they did and what they expected and which feminine hygiene products they preferred.   He never applied his knowledge to girls though...it was like Catherine, he couldn't be bothered.

 

Just as he was walking through his front door his cell rang.  It was Gil.  Nick smiled; he obviously wanted to talk to ‘his friend'.

 

"Hey, Gil.  How you holding up, man?"

 

"Nervous, Nicky.  I cannot believe how I give evidence in court, give lectures and God knows what but I can't remember the last time I was this nervous.  I hope you don't mind me calling, I suppose I just wanted a bit of Dutch courage and I thought having a drink would be bad form before the service."

 

"Calm down, man.  This is for your Momma; you'll be fine once you get there.  The eulogy, man, was a great tribute...like you said, you can't say everything but you said the important stuff.  I bet if she is looking down on you, and yes, I know she doesn't think she will be, but she'd be very proud."

 

"Thank you for saying that.  Errr...how was work?"

 

He really was nervous.  "Hey, man, work was great last night; you know everything went to plan...Jim Brass said I did good...sooo...everyone else did good too."

 

Gil chuckled.  "You always do good Nicky; you don't think you do, you do need to be more confident about your work because you always do very good work."

 

Nick was so flabbergasted he couldn't respond.

 

"Nick?"

 

"Yeah..."

 

"What's the matter?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Now plainly there is, come on what is it, is it something I said?"

 

"You think I'm good?"

 

"Of course you are; you wouldn't be on my team if you weren't."

 

"Oh."

 

"What?"

 

"Well."

 

"Well what?"

 

"I didn't think..."

 

"What?  What didn't you think?"

 

"That you thought...I was good...okay..."

 

"Why didn't you?"

 

"You never said and you...you know, the riddle."

 

"What riddle?"

 

"Silk, silk..."

 

"....about cows drinking water, when did I say that?"

 

"At my evaluation last year."

 

"I did?  Oh yes, I remember; only because you can be, well, could be, a little impetuous and of course you were trying to be me.  But you've ironed that out now, haven't you, and you're gaining in confidence and experience all the time.  If Jim said you ‘did good', you must have, he's not one to dish out compliments without just cause."

 

"Oh."

 

"What?"  Gil laughed.  "Don't tell me you thought you hadn't improved?  I told you I expect the best and if I hadn't got it from you it you'd be on days by now."

 

"I didn't know, Gil, I really didn't...thank you.  I think you just about made my day, year even!" 

 

"You're welcome.  Hey, do you mind if I treat this as your evaluation, if I write it up, it'll save any more hassle?"

 

"Yeah, that would be good.  Very good."  Nick had actually stood up taller and pulled his shoulders straight and his chest expanded; he felt mentally and physically exhilarated.

 

"I guess I'll let you go now, I've got to dress and I haven't eaten anything yet...too nervous."

 

"Have some dry toast and a cup of tea, that'll be good and just before you leave have a small shot of Dutch courage - but take a peppermint for your breath.  I think your Mom would have approved of that."

 

Gil was silent.

 

"Gil?"

 

"Yes Nicky, she would have approved of that...how did you know?"

 

"Don't know really; what you wrote about her, I think.   A real down to earth woman, she'd understand your need."

 

"I wish you were here, Nick...you could be my courage." 

 

Nick was stunned.  Absolutely stunned.  Perhaps this wasn't Gil Grissom on the other end of the line...perhaps it was an imposter.

 

"If I could've, I would've, Gil...but you'll be great. Once you get started, like I said."

 

"Yes. I'm thinking positively now.  May I call you tonight to tell you how it all went?"

 

"Yeah, that'd be good.  I want to know; and have a toast to your Mom from me; it's a great shame I never met her."

 

"It is...and she'd been to Vegas many times.  Never happen now.  Ah, well."

 

"But you have great memories and you will always carry them with you."

 

"Yes, I will.  Thank you for the pep talk, Counsellor Stokes."

 

"You're welcome.   Have a good time...and I know that's an odd thing to say, it being a funeral, but your Mom..."

 

"I know exactly what you mean, thanks again, bye, Nick."

 

"Bye, Gil."

***

Well this was the weirdest day of his life and then some.  He'd solved all his cases; had the best evaluation in his life...he'd got the boss as a friend...and he was calling back later to tell him how everything went.  This was the best day of his life and then some.

 

He was too wired to go to bed, so he packed his gym stuff and went to the gym and spent ninety minutes working out.  He shopped for his groceries on the way back.  He tidied up his place and put some laundry on to wash.  He was buzzing.

 

When he went to bed he decided that he would do something he rarely did because it was just too messy; the shower was the best place for the mess - but the bed was always the best place.  He would jerk-off slowly and sensuously...using some lube and some images he saved for these special occasions.  And his fantasy partner would be Gil Grissom.  Not Denny, or Indiana Jones. 

 

He used both hands and a lot of lube; he fondled his balls and felt them tighten as he became more aroused.  He used a lubed finger to rub his ass, he was very wary about intruding where no man had ever been.  Denny had never done that and he'd never done it to Denny although Denny had asked him to, more than once. 

 

What would he say if Gil asked him?

 

Yes.  He'd say yes...he had no doubts that he'd let Gil touch him, he would, definitely, he had no doubts, whatsoever.  His hands stilled on himself.  But as he thought these thoughts he was as hard as he'd ever been.  And he made a decision.   He had no idea how he would do it, but he would tell Gil that he was gay and that if Gil...was...he could...that's if he wanted to...

 

He hoped and prayed he would want to...

 

Because he wanted Gil Grissom.  Like he'd never wanted anyone ever before...including Denny.  God, he really fucking hoped Gil was gay.  What if he wasn't?  What if he'd got it wrong?  He didn't care.  He wasn't wrong.  No way was he wrong!

 

He closed his eyes and thought of Gil and breached his own ass with his finger.  He eyes flew open and he was imagining Gil's finger, Gil's body above him.  Gil's kisses. Gil's tongue.  Gil's.  Gil's.  Gil's everything.   His hand sped up on his hard cock, he was so close, Gil's hand was holding him tight and moving up and down quickly and expertly, twisting his cock just as he liked it as his hand reached his swollen head...oh, God, Gil.  Gil.  Gil.   Gil's hand stopped still and he spurted four huge streams of semen up in the air and down onto his belly and chest.  His back arched and his belly met up with Gil's body; his legs, bent at the knees, pushed up and the rest of him gained contact with Gil.  He was still coming, dribbling over his hand...the burst of energy expended on the first spurts, gone.  His fell back onto the bed and the image of Gil faded away.

 

He really hoped Gil was gay.

 

He pulled up the blankets...he'd wash them tomorrow; he certainly wasn't getting out of bed now...he'd snuggle up to Gil and sleep and dream.

 

Gil Grissom had better be gay.

 

He slept really well; he dreamed dreams but couldn't remember them.  When he awoke his erection was straining under the blankets and he smiled as he remembered his goodnight present to himself.  The memory caused his penis to twitch and he chuckled as the blankets twitched too; he could take care of business again...he looked at his clock...the alarm hadn't gone off but it was due in about five minutes.

 

He‘d have a quickie; he switched off the alarm and reached for the lube, still on his nightstand, and squeezed a little onto the fingers of his right hand and then slid his hand down under the blankets and took hold of his erection.   He smiled.  He spread the lube and held himself and began slowly and loosely but he tightened his hand and speeded up...the warmth inside the bedclothes was matched now by the warmth in the pit of his belly.  He would come quickly...he wanted too...Gil had joined him again, smiling at him as he saw him behind his eyelids.

 

He came more quickly that he had anticipated...it surprised him with the force of it after his performance before he'd gone to sleep.  His bedclothes would be badly soiled as he wiped his hand on them and then his chest and then his dick, carefully though, he was tender.  He closed his eyes and then his cell rang out. 

 

He reached for it and glanced at his clock...he'd fallen asleep again and had overslept, by nearly an hour; he'd be late for work if he wasn't quick.   He answered the cell, without looking at the caller.

 

"Yes. "  He was terse.

 

"Nick?  Sorry, are you okay?"

 

"Of course I am...sorry about that, just woke up and I've overslept; usual thing, switched off the alarm and fell asleep again."

 

"Done it myself.  I'll let you go, you need to get ready."

 

"I can spare a few...boss is away...you know.  How'd it go?"

 

"It was good....no, it was very good, excellent, Mom would have loved it; no sadness, a celebration and a lot of her friends said how good I was talking about her,  I told a few more anecdotes when I got going...you know me...never say a dozen words when I get away with a thousand or more!"  He laughed.

 

"Really...you were that good?"  Nick joined in with the laughter.

 

"Down to you, for helping me out."

 

"I did nothing, you wrote it."

 

"Ah, but you gave me the confidence to deliver it and I'm grateful for that."

 

"Well; you're welcome, but I think I might be taking credit for doing nothing."

 

"Nonsense; and I had a shot of whisky...a good one Mom had in her cupboard.  Laphroaig...you heard of that?"

 

"Oh yes, Daddy's all-time favourite.  He'd better not hear you say you took a ‘shot of it', it's for sipping and savouring."

 

"Amen to that!  That's exactly what I'm doing now.  Poppy and I have been here for an hour or so mulling over Mom and things...she left a few minutes ago and I feel relaxed now and reconciled about Mom...she had a good life and she gave me my good life.  It's the natural order of things, isn't it?"

 

"It is; you sound okay."

 

"I am, and a lot of that is down to you Nick, letting me call you and pontificate, like now...  Hey, you'd better get ready, you'll be late.  Call me later, from work, the boss won't know, he's away."

 

"Yeah...okay I will.  Speak later."

 

"Bye, Nicky."  Gil did sound mellow and relaxed.

 

"Bye, ba...Gil, bye."  Jesus H. Christ he nearly called Gil Grissom, ‘babe'.  He'd better be gay.

 

Nick showered and dressed, stripped his bedding and put it in his washer.  Grabbed a juice and a breakfast bar and was out of the door in sixteen minutes.  He was still damp.

 

When he got to work the rest of them were settling down in the briefing room.  He dashed in a sat down.

 

"Oversleep, Nick?"  Catherine asked but didn't seem to be being sarcastic.

 

"I did...turned off the alarm and went back to sleep."

 

"Easily done."  In fact she was being charming.  "Have you heard from Gil?"  Not so charming then.

 

"As a matter of fact just a quick call tonight, because I'd overslept, but everything went really well at the service and he'll be back on Monday night."

 

"That's good to know."  Catherine did seem to be perfectly reasonable about it now.

 

"I still don't see why he couldn't have called here...or one of us."  Sara obviously wasn't.

 

"No idea...didn't ask him the reason."  And if I had you'd be the last person in Vegas, no scratch that, the known universe, I would tell.

 

"He didn't say anything at all?"

 

"Not one word...probably because, you know, his mother died and he had other things on his mind."  Has she always been this bad, and I've not noticed...or is it because he isn't here.  I hope he's gay, Sara won't stand a chance!

 

"No need to be sarcastic, I was just asking a reasonable question."

 

"Right.  Sorry."  Nick tried to look a picture of innocence.  He may have succeeded because Warrick snickered.

 

"Okay, assignments."

***

 

Nick got a burglary on the strip.  So made his way to his truck and settled down in the driver's seat and he had to make a decision.  Call Gil now, where he could be seen...Sara was still about, or drive off and pull over.  No contest; he drove off and pulled up, just a little way up the road.   Sara would, he hoped, be going the other way to her scene.

 

He pressed redial and waited.

 

"Hello."

 

"Hi, Gil, me again, stealing time; don't have long though, got a scene to go to."

 

"Okay.  You got there in time then?"

 

"Just.  You know Sara?"

 

"I do."  Gil chuckled.

 

"Is she always whining, or is it because you're not here?"

 

"Well, Nick...I shouldn't speak about a co-worker..."

 

"...oh, man, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have spoken out of turn."

 

"Hey, don't worry; there can't be a member of LVPD who hasn't heard her whine, but she's an excellent CSI, just not a people person, she's even worse than me."  Gil sounded very relaxed.

 

"Hey, man, just how much of that Laphroaig have you drunk?"

 

"Checking up on me, are you?  Now my Mom's gone?"

 

Nick paused and took a deep breath and almost whispered.  "Someone's got to."

 

"That's true.  You putting yourself up for the job?"

 

"Well...  Look you've got to be up early to get your flight and flying's a bummer with a hangover, makes you feel much worse.   Go to bed, drink as much water as you can and take a headache pill.  Okay?"

"Yes, Nicky.  Will do."

 

"Make sure you do, look I got to go.  I'll see you at McCarran...if I have a case and run over I'll leave you a message.  Okay?"

 

"Okay, got it, thanks, Nicky...I owe you."

 

You do, Gil Grissom, you owe me big time.  "Nah...course you don't.  Bye."

 

"Bye, night, see you."

 

If Gil Grissom wasn't gay he'd jump off the tower at the Paris.  He smiled as he stowed his cell.  If that wasn't a come on, he didn't know what was. 

 

‘Nicholas Edward Stokes you're going to have yourself a real, proper, boyfriend, if it kills you.  And it might if Daddy finds out.  Did he care?  Did he fuck!

 

For the second night Nick had an exceptional shift.  Admittedly, he got a lot of easy stuff because the others got stuck with a murder and an arson.   But he took all the other cases and cleared them and everyone knew that they kept the clearance figures rosy.  And that pleased the sheriff and if he was happy everyone else got to be happy. 

 

He had to work over for two hours, but still had time to do all he had to.  He was going to the supermarket on the way to Gil's house and would stock up on some fresh produce for him.  He'd check the ‘roaches and make sure everything was okay, (see if the GPC had de-materialised in his absence) then he'd go home and do his own chores, shower and go pick up Gil. 

 

And that's exactly what he did and now he was waiting for Gil to come through the gate.  The plane had landed on time.  He saw Gil walking towards him; he had on his sunglasses and looked...like he had a hangover.  Nick grinned, then wiped it off his face, it wasn't appropriate.  He got butterflies in his stomach and all the nerve he'd been working on left him.  He felt nervous and even in the air conditioned building he could feel the sweat forming on his upper lip and his palms were sticky.

 

Gil was looking around but still hadn't seen him.  And then he did.  He smiled the biggest smile Nick had ever seen him smile so Nick grinned his own grin back.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hey."

 

"God, Nick, you were so right.  My head is pounding, and I'm sure I've had the maximum dose of Tylenol.  I need water, I've run out, and juice, Vitamin C, and coffee...not good I know, but I need a coffee."

 

"Right.  You get your luggage and I'll go search out water, coffee and juice.   There's a Starbuck's; black...sugar."

 

"Life saver."

 

Nick did his errand and when he returned, Gil had his duffel bag and three other cases, two small and one large.  He handed over the water and Gil took a long drink from the bottle.

 

"I'll get a trolley for all this; here's your coffee and juice though the coffee'll be too hot to drink, put some of the cold water in it, it'll still be coffee."

 

"Good idea."

 

Nick returned moments later with a trolley and started loading the cases onto it.  Gil stood there sipping his coffee.  He looked too wasted to help out now that Nick looked at him properly.  He must have drunk a great deal, probably quite a lot throughout the afternoon and then the whiskey in the evening.  He knew he didn't normally drink much...at least he didn't think he did.   No; there was no evidence at his house that he was a drinker.

 

"Come on, I've got this; you okay?"

 

"I'll live...self-induced."

 

"I reckon you're entitled."

 

"Thank you for understanding."

 

Nick thought Gil was being serious but looked up to see the grin Gil was giving him.

 

"Don't think I'll let it become a habit, though." Gil assured Nick.

 

"Right."

 

They walked the rest of the way to Nick's truck in silence.  Nick opened the locks as they approached it and nodded to the passenger door.

 

"You get in and rest up...I'll do this."

 

"Thanks."  Gil did as he was instructed. 

 

Nick joined him a few minutes later.

 

"What sort of things have you bought back from your Mom's house?"

 

"Some books, photo albums, a couple of framed photographs, and some of my old stuff that she'd kept...I found I couldn't throw it out.  Several little knick-knacks; they belonged to my grandparent Grissoms'.  Nothing of any great value, except that of sentiment.  Oh, and some things that belonged to my father."

 

"How many trips do you think you'll have to make?"

 

"Two or three, at best.  Poppy's going to keep an eye on things for me."

 

"Well the offer stands if you need any help."

 

"That would be good.  Getting time off together may be difficult."

 

"True."  Nick swallowed; Gil was going to take him up on his offer.

 

"Probably could arrange it, someone from days could use the overtime, I bet.  It would be easier, I suppose, to get it done in one go...I thought I could drive down and get it all in the truck."

 

"You could fly...spend vacation time sorting it all out and then I could drive down and help you bring it back, use my long weekend off work.  We both wouldn't lose so much time that way."  Jeez...he was making them sound like an old married couple and he was not even that sure that Gil was gay.

 

Gil was looking at him but he couldn't see his eyes, behind the sunglasses  "That, CSI Stokes, is a damned good idea."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm full of them."

 

"That right?"

 

Nick tired not to gulp in extra air, because that sounded very much like a suggestive remark, to his ears.

 

"As a matter of fact...it is."

 

"Mmmm."

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing, Nicky, just mmmming."  Gil smiled and Nick saw it out of the corner of his eye.

 

Gil settled back in his seat and Nick could tell he was resting his eyes; the water bottle was gone so he presumed Gil had drunk the lot.  The coffee cup was abandoned on the floor and that looked empty so Gil had probably been dehydrated.  He'd put the juice in his pocket.   Not a good thing when hung-over and flying, and he'd been under stress.   The extra day off would help him recuperate.

 

"We're here Gil."  He shook his arm, Gil had fallen asleep.

 

"Already?  Have I slept?"

 

"Yeah, most of the way."

 

"I'm sorry; not very companionable of me."

 

"No sweat.  Come on, let's get you some more to drink, I got some fresh groceries for you, I didn't know what you'd want, so I bought the same stuff I'd get, and hoped for the best."

 

"You've done that?  For me?"  Gil sounded incredulous.

 

"Look, it's no sweat...honestly." Nick laughed at Gil's surprise.

 

"Nick, have I said you're kind?"

 

"Yeah."  He laughed.

 

"But you are; you are extraordinarily kind...I've never, well, no one except Mom, of course, has ever been as kind to me.   I mean it."

 

Nick could feel himself blushing.  "Look, I've enjoyed it.  Honestly, taking care of you, well, you know, over the phone, you know."  Babbling Nick was back.

 

"And I've enjoyed you taking care of me - over the phone."  Nick could hear the amusement in Gil's voice.  "Are you at work tonight?"

 

"Yes...I'm off tomorrow night."

 

"Well you need to go get some sleep and would you let me take you out for a meal...tomorrow night; my treat obviously, and let me know exactly how much money I owe you for the flights and there's the two hundred bucks and the groceries."

 

Take me out for a meal?  Tomorrow night?  Nick thought for one moment that he might well have fainted and was lying on the floor unconscious because surely Gil had not just invited him out for a...date...

***

Nick was surprised to find himself still standing and behaving completely normally in front of Gil.  And when he spoke his voice sounded normal, even to his own ears.

 

"That'd be good.  I'd like that."

 

"Yeah; me too."

 

Kiss me, Gil Grissom, kiss me.  Please.  Please.  Don't be an idiot, pull yourself together.   "I'll get your stuff; you go drink some more water; keep hydrated."

 

"Yes.  Yes, I will."  He nodded and laughed.

 

In a couple of minutes Nick was ready to leave; he'd never been so happy in his life.  He had a date with Gil Grissom, tomorrow night.  There wasn't a person in the USA who would deny that it was a date.  Okay, so maybe Gil Grissom didn't see it that way, but he would.  He would.  (Sara wouldn't either, but did he care - not at all.)

 

He stood just inside Gil's front door.  Gil was in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, doing as he was told.

 

"I'm off then, Gil."  Nick called out.

 

Gil came out of the kitchen and without his sunglasses Nick could see just how bloodshot his eyes were.

 

"Thanks Nick.  See you at....what, seven, tomorrow night?  That okay, you'll come here?"

 

"That'd be good.  What about your truck?"

 

"Can't think about that now; I don't need it immediately, since you've been so thoughtful about the food."

 

"Okay, then I'm off.  See you, Gil."

 

"Yeah...you will."

 

Nick left without a backward glance, he was sporting a hard-on in his jeans; he didn't think Gil had seen; but he was absolutely sure that Gil Grissom was gay.   He was certain.  Well...almost.

 

When he got home, he was in a fairly dream-like, happy state.  A date, with Gil Grissom.  His hard-on gone and forgotten this was more than just sex; he cleaned his teeth and then jumped into bed with a smile of his face and fell into a deep refreshing sleep.  His smile stayed in place all night.

 

Work was beyond good.  If the previous two nights had seen good results, he pulled the rabbit out of the hat for this night.  With Catherine, he dealt with a double murder and initially it was thought to be routine...sad, when murders are routine...but Nick uncovered a little bit of evidence and he made a spectacular leap with a theory.  Catherine was initially sceptical, but Jim went with Nick's flow and lo and behold they had the perp rolling over in custody within the hour - and she was not even the original suspect.

 

Nick went to breakfast with the shift; it would have been churlish to refuse to celebrate his stroke of genius.  He refused to speak about Gil, shrugging when asked if he knew if he was back in town.  Let them call Gil themselves if they wanted to know.

 

He'd just left the diner when his cell vibrated in his pocket.  He pulled it out and smiled when the id said, ‘GG'.  This was Gil calling him from his cell ‘phone.

 

"Gil."

 

"Nick."  Oh God, it's all over; he's realised.  "Are you still at work?  Are any of the shift still at work?"

 

"No.  We've just been for breakfast."

 

"Good; I'm going to the lab to collect my truck.  I didn't want to run into anyone; it should be quiet, Sunday morning, what do you think?"

 

No; he's okay with me, asking my opinion.  "It was when we left.  Look, I can come get you."

 

"No; you get home.  I've relied on you too much these last few days, catch up on your rest and I'll see you tonight.  I've got an errand to run anyway...in town."

 

"Well, if you're sure?"  He doesn't want me anymore; he never did; although he did mention tonight.

 

"I'm sure Nicky, you've done enough."

 

Mmmm, he called me Nicky, and he does sound okay.  "Are you okay now, recovered from your..."

 

"...hangover?  Yes, I'm back in the land of the living as opposed to the living dead!"  He laughed. 

 

That was a happy sound.  "What do I wear tonight?"

 

"Oh right; smart casual, not jeans; that okay?"

 

"Yeah, great.  See you then...seven?"

 

"Seven."   And he was gone.

 

This is a date!  Smart casual is a date and not just a meal out!  I think so anyway.  His cell vibrated again.  ‘GG' again.

 

"Gil?"

 

"Sorry about this; I just thought I'd better tell you I'm switching off my cell, leaving it on messaging.  I'm not ready to face anyone just yet."

 

"Okay; thanks for letting me know, see you later.  Okay?"  How many okays could he have in one sentence?

 

"Okay."  Nick smiled at Gil's okay.

 

"Bye then."

 

"Yes...bye then."

 

Nick closed his cell and held it in his hand; a grin on his face from ear to ear.  This was a date and Gil Grissom was gay!  Well, probably, anyway.

 

He decided that this date called for a new shirt.  He had some good pants and a pair of very nice loafers - both black, so a new shirt, maybe silk, maybe designer.  Why not?

 

He went to The Forum and eventually purchased the very plainest of silk shirts.  Ralph Lauren; beautifully cut, long sleeved and the most exquisite blue; okay the guy in the shop was definitely gay, there was no chance of Nick being wrong about that.  But he had to agree, it shimmered in the light and the blue was...yes, the blue was, without question, the blue of Gil Grissom's eyes.  He would match Gil Grissom.

 

The shirt cost both arms and both legs, but was worth it, the shop assistant very nearly cried when Nick had decided to buy it, and had whispered to Nick.  ‘He'll love it; absolutely love it on you.'  Now, ordinarily, Nick would have punched the guy's lights out, but being benevolent, he smiled and nodded.  He'd better like it, or else.  Or what?

 

As Nick left The Forum around one corner Gil Grissom entered around another corner, intent on making a purchase of his own.  A specific item.

 

Nick went to the gym, but couldn't concentrate on any exercises, he was too stuffed with food anyway, bad move, eating and then expecting to work out.  He'd go home, sleep some and maybe go out for a run before he got ready for his date.  His BIG date.

 

So he went home; tidied, okay, so there was nothing, actually, to tidy.  He really wasn't that untidy or even that obsessive about cleanliness, normally, but he had to do something to keep him busy, get rid of his nervous energy.  So he scrubbed down his kitchen and then his bathroom and it helped burn off his breakfast.  Tidied the cupboards too; rearranged his wardrobe, so that his new shirt took pride of place, careful not to squash it up and crease it, unnecessarily.

 

He put all his other clothes ready for his date; his casually smart evening out with Gil Grissom.  He'd checked his pants were okay; he'd not worn them since they'd been dry cleaned and they were okay.  He dusted off his already impeccably shiny shoes.  He'd found a pair of black silk and wool blend socks, a present, he thought, from one of his sisters.  And, finally, a nearly new pair of his favourite tighty-whities, his CKs, just in case, if, in the remote event, you never did know!

 

He yawned; he was actually bone tired now, but happy.  He took a quick shower and made sure to jerk off; he didn't want to appear too eager tonight, if, in the remote event, you never did know...

 

He fell into bed and once again, unbeknown to him, he slept with that same little smile on his face.  He awoke moments before his alarm sounded and rolled onto his back...jerk off - take a run - shower.  Take a run - shower - jerk off; don't bother with the run - shower - jerk off.  Life was full of decisions that had to be made.

 

He made one.   Run; get rid of excess energy, come back and shower, maybe jerk off.  He dressed in sweats and put on his running shoes, went to his kitchen and drank a juice; filled his water bottle and off he went.  A few stretches and a gentle jog to start with.   It was a lovely day; not that hot that you couldn't breathe, but warm and dry, like the desert it was.  He met two girls from his condo and jogged with them for a few miles and returned...ready to face his date.

 

He showered and of course he jerked off...he'd better be careful about all this, didn't it send you blind...nah...he'd be blind already if that was the case.  He was like a teenager again...needing to go to the bathroom, (and not to piss) at every available opportunity.

 

He towelled dry and used his expensive cologne; not much...Gil didn't like it in his face, did he?  He didn't know, but guessed Gil was a man who appreciated subtleties.  No, that wasn't a guess, it was an absolute certainty.  He smiled at his reflection.  This was going to be a night to remember.  Well he certainly hoped it would be...

***

He was ready far too early, but just couldn't wait anymore; he'd been waiting for too long for something like this to happen.  He drove over to Gil's house as slowly as he could observing every speed limit and committing no moving traffic violations - that must be a first - working for the PD, or not.

 

He arrived ten minutes early, but had to go in, he still couldn't wait; it was like Christmas as a child; up at four in the morning.  He rang Gil's bell and waited, taking regular breaths to try to keep calm.  Just as he looked down to check out his shirt, Gil opened the door.  He looked up into the smiling face of Gil Grissom.

 

"Hungry?"

 

"Hungry?   Oh, yes...sorry about that.  I started out to make sure...traffic...and then there was none...so..."  He.  Was.  A.  Moron.  It was official and his cheeks were hot.  He was blushing.  He was thirty-two years old and he was fucking blushing.

 

"Don't stand there, come on in."  Gil stood aside.

 

As Nick walked in past Gil he noticed that he was wearing a silk shirt too; a pale green short sleeved shirt and light brown pants with tan shoes.  He looked cool and sophisticated, quite unlike the blushing moron.

 

Nick walked into the middle of the living room and then stopped...what next?  He turned and faced Gil and there was absolutely no question about it...Gil was checking him out.  There was no doubt.  Whatsoever.  Gil looked up and their eyes met, just for a moment.  And there it was.

 

No doubt; no fucking doubt at all; Gil's eyes had widened slightly and his pupils dilated.  Nick wasn't a CSI for nothing, he noticed things.  Hadn't he solved that murder last night, single handed?

 

"Nicky, you look very smart; I've never seen...I mean...always clean and tidy at work...wearing a suit...court...you know but...smart...yes."

 

Gil Grissom is babbling.  Gil Grissom is babbling.  Gil Grissom is babbling.

 

He was singing this to himself.  He had reduced Gil Grissom to babbling, but he stood up straighter, smiled like he'd won a gazillion dollars and when he spoke to Gil Grissom...he didn't babble at all.  Not once.

 

"You look pretty good yourself; don't ever see you in anything but dark clothes at work - pale green - your colour, man."

 

Gil Grissom is blushing.  Gil Grissom is blushing.  Gil Grissom is blushing.

 

He'd made Gil Grissom blush and that was the next line of his song.

 

"I must pay my debts, so, how much...will a cheque be okay?"  Gil broke the spell.

 

"Sure, no problem; all in, nine hundred bucks."

 

"Is that all?  Are you sure, the food, the tickets?"

 

"Yeah, got a discount, remember?"

 

"Oh, yes."  He left Nick standing there and returned a few minutes later.  He put a jacket, matching his pants, over the back of a chair and gave Nick his cheque.  He had a small package in his hand.

 

Nick put the cheque in his bill fold, and glanced up at Gil again.  Gil looked uncomfortable.

 

"Umm, Nick, Nicky...I hope you don't mind.  I took the liberty of buying you a...a gift, by way of saying thank you for you kindness; I wouldn't have got through it, without your phone calls; you were a great help."

 

He held a little bag out to Nick, and while Nick didn't babble or blush he was speechless...absolutely speechless.  The bag proclaimed that it was from ‘Bvlgari'.  He stood staring at it and Gil waved it gently at him and he took it.  He opened the bag and a velvet box also proclaimed ‘Bvlgari'.  He stared at it.

 

"You may have to speed up a bit...we do have a reservation at a restaurant."

 

"I thought you were taking me out...buying me a meal...as a ‘thank you'?"

 

"Well, yes, that as well."

 

"Okay."  Nick threw the bag onto a chair and carefully opened the velvet box and there, nestled in a deep blue velvet cloth, was a watch.  A great watch.  It looked great...no, he'd thought that once...it was incredible.  "This is incredible, man, you shou....."  He didn't finish.

 

"Don't tell me that I shouldn't have, I wanted to buy you a gift for your kindness."

 

"But, man, this is...great, incredible." 

 

"I like the line of it, and I thought it would suit you.  Try it on, you may have to go and have the strap, bracelet, they called it, altered.  It's stainless steel and you can swim and dive in it, do you dive?"  Gil had been helping Nick take off his own watch and slip the new watch on his wrist, and chatting while he helped. Gil's fingers touching Nick's skin produced tiny little electrical shocks in Nick.

 

The watch fitted Nick's wrist perfectly and it looked as if he'd been born to wear it.  It was stainless steel as Gil had said, and had the ‘Bvlgari' name written twice around the round, steel edge of the face of the watch.  The face was white and the bracelet neat.  It wasn't an overlarge watch and to Nick it screamed, ‘money' and ‘taste'.

 

"This is the most beautiful watch I think I've ever seen; it's just perfect...it fits me perfect, perfectly." 

 

"It does, doesn't it?  Got it right then."   Gil's smile was undeniably smug.

 

"I don't deserve this, for what I've done."  Fuck; the tears were threatening.

 

"Of course you do, Nicky, you were, as I've said, extraordinarily kind; you...I wouldn't have made it through the last few days without your support."

 

"No, not that; it's what I did here.  I didn't mean too, it's all my fault and I had no idea...and I feel so awful now.  I don't deserve this beautiful watch."   The tears were threatening, they were almost ready.

 

"Well I do enjoy a puzzle, Nick, solving it...but even I need a little more evidence to go on."  Gil was still smiling.

 

"Oh, fuck."  Nick whispered.

 

"Sounds bad.  Come on it can't be that bad; the house is still standing...all the cockroaches seem to be present.  Did you have a wild party and invite the neighbourhood?  I can't see any evidence that you did."

 

"I saw.  I know.  I didn't mean to.  I was looking for a cockroach book and I saw it..."

 

"What did you see?" 

 

"Your collection."

 

"My collection?  My collection of?"

 

"Porn...your porn."

 

"Ah.  Not sufficient to warrant a collection, I would have thought.  So you know.  Are you okay about it?"

 

"Am I?"

 

"Well I was trying to get around to telling you and seeing if you would be interested.  I know I'm a lot older, but I thought you would benefit from an older...man."

 

"You don't mind?  That I was snooping?"

 

"I thought you were looking for a cockroach book?  They're all out here, incidentally, but no, why would I mind when I'm...well, trying to, well, ask you out."

 

"You are?"  Was that really a squeak?

 

"Yes; it's not working then?"

 

"I think it is."

 

"That's good, although I must say that the watch is for being so kind to me Nicky; you were very supportive.  But I thought about you a great deal that night after Mom's thanksgiving...how stupid of me to prevaricate, I've already lost the opportunity to introduce you to Mom and she would have liked...loved you.  She was always on to me to find a nice young man.

 

"I was actually going to broach the subject over dinner, at ‘Olives', by the way.  We can just sit back and enjoy the food now; will it be our first date?"

 

"Our first date?  Yes.  I'd like that."  Nick was grinning, but he still felt as if he was on the verge of tears.  Mrs Grissom would have loved him.

 

"Great.  All settled then.  I'm out of practise you know, at all this romancing stuff.  No one has appealed to me for years...especially after you arrived.  I didn't begin to suspect until a few months ago, my gaydar has never been very accurate.  I was looking for some solid evidence and then you were downright flirtatious over the phone and with Mom and everything, you were just so kind and helpful...and thoughtful.  So I was determined that as soon as I got back I would...strike while the iron was hot, as they say.  I'd do it for Mom!"

 

"Gil?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Will you kiss me?  Or have I got to wait ‘til later...'cause I don't think my nerves can take any more."

 

"Don't want to fray your nerves more than is necessary, now do we, Nicky?"

 

Gil moved so close to Nick, that Nick could feel the heat of his body.  He took hold of Nick's upper arms...they were very nearly the same height, though Gil's body was much more solid than Nick's.  With his eyes still open and locked on Nick's he kissed Nick's lips very gently.

 

Using his lips and teeth he nipped at Nick's lips all around his mouth; gently and sweetly. Nick thought he might have been moaning softly as he responded to the kiss...but one thing he knew for certain was that his threatened tears were falling down his cheeks.  It was with sheer relief...that Gil really was gay, that Gil really did want him and that really...this was the best kiss he'd ever had.

 

Gil pulled back and looked at Nick.

 

"Hey, don't drip on your shirt, it'll mark it; you are very beautiful, you know that?"  Gil handed Nick his handkerchief and watched, smiling indulgently, as he wiped his nose and face

 

"Might do."  He smiled, Maria used to call him, her beautiful little boy

 

"You do know?"  Gil chuckled.  "I think, Nicky Stokes that you and I were made for one another.  What do you think?"

 

"I think we were, yes.  Hey, what time is it, babe?"  He made an ostentatious show of looking at the time on his new watch.

 

"Babe?  Babe?"  Gil echoed, somewhat incredulously.

 

Nick silenced him with another kiss; Gil Grissom was absolutely right.  They were made for one another.

 

The End

A/N 1:  Thanks to everyone for reading this bit of fluff but more especially to those of you who took the time to make a comment!  Always much appreciated!

 

A/N 2: Since I wrote this fic the model I referred to seems to have been discontinued but this one, apart from the strap, appears to be the same: http://en.bulgari.com/productDetail.jsp?p rod=BB38WSLDAUTO/N

 

***

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• CSI: New York stories
• CSI: Miami stories
• All f/f stories
• Other pairings & threesomes
• Gen CSI stories
• C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season