Title: Fighting Evil With Good 3
By: nancy
Pairing: Gil/Warrick
Rating: PG-13
Series: Fighting Evil With Good, Fighting Evil With Good 2
Spoilers: major ones for Harvest
Summary: Gil and Warrick have a disagreement and Gil meets the in-laws, much to his dismay.

He didn’t know how long he sat in that church. His eyes roamed between the Crucifix and the stained glass windows; the Altar and the Sacristy. No one bothered him in that time, no one even came into the building, so far as he knew. Daniel Perez’s words haunted him in a way that he couldn’t even begin to describe.

You may not believe in God, Sir...but you do his work.

A good portion of Gil’s life had been spent not believing in God. It wasn’t an anger thing, or a rebellion against the belief structure in which he’d been raised. It wasn’t even a disillusionment with the Church itself, though of course that was present, given the number of abuse scandals that had reared their ugly heads over the last decade or more. It was really just an absence of Faith, more than an exorcism of one. He respected people of Faith, he just had no use for people who tried to convert, or proselytize.

Despite all of that, in the last six months he’d been touched by...things...spiritual things...and Gil couldn’t deny the evidence. A complete stranger, one who’d murdered his own sister, had picked up on the echo of power that seemed to surround him these days. Gil snorted and thought, Listen to yourself. You sound like some kind of false prophet or magician. Delusions of grandeur, no doubt. You are no more than a cog in the wheel of Justice and you’d do well to remember that.

Sighing, Gil’s hand scrubbed through his hair and he looked again at the Crucifix, and the wooden effigy of the man hanging upon it. What was it about religion that drew such fanaticism? If one truly believed in the teachings of the statue Gil now stared at, than murder was out of the question. Most major religions held that tenet as a central rule that came down to the simple words: thou shalt not kill. Killing a family member, especially a helpless girl who loved you...it was as incomprehensible to Gil now as when he’d first realized the parents hadn’t been behind the murder.

The door opened from behind and Gil didn’t need to turn to recognize his lover’s footsteps echoing down the aisle. Instead of sitting beside him, however, Warrick took the pew behind and observed, “Rough case.”

Gil nodded, but didn’t answer. He wasn’t all that sure that he had any words left, truth be told. He felt...unsettled and adrift...unsure of what he should do next.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder as Warrick asked softly, “You ready to come home yet? It’s getting late, but I can hang around for you. Or, you know, you can just come home when you’re ready. I don’t want to crowd you or anything.”

Startled, Gil looked at the stained glass to find no more sunlight filtering through them. Glancing down at his watch, he was shocked to find that five hours had gone by and that it was almost nine at night. Turning in his seat, Gil looked at Warrick and found only patient compassion staring back from those pale gray eyes. “I didn’t realize the time, Warrick, I’m sorry. I know we had plans.”

“It’s okay. We’ll make reservations for another night,” Warrick promised. His hand tightened and he questioned, “What did Perez say to you?”

Gil’s lips twisted as he remembered the earnest cast to the young man’s face, the sincerity radiating from the dark eyes as Daniel had informed him...

“You may not believe in God, Sir...but you do his work,” Gil answered sardonically.

“Damn. He’s got your number and then some.”

With a glare, Gil stood and snapped, “I don’t need you to tell me a murderer knows me at all, Warrick.”

Warrick’s mouth dropped a little in surprise as Gil brushed past him, but he didn’t even care. The thought that anyone could see into him so clearly, especially someone who thought killing his sister was a mercy, disturbed and unnerved him. It might not be right to take that out on Warrick, but then, his lover had no right saying something like that to him. His SUV was still outside the church and Gil got in without waiting to see if Warrick needed a ride.

*  *  *  *

It was a good two hours later before Gil could make himself leave the office for home. For the first time since he and Warrick had become lovers, it was a place to dread going back to. The words he’d spoken at the church hadn’t been all that harsh, but his tone had been damning, no doubt about that. Warrick had already been off the clock when he’d gone to see if Gil was all right and so didn’t have a reason to return to the office. Something that Gil had taken as a kindness, at the time.

After an hour of paperwork, Gil had recognized the retreat for what it was: cowardly. Even knowing that, though, he hadn’t been able to make himself go home. He didn’t want to see the hurt disappointment that was sure to be in the pale eyes he usually loved to stare into. So he’d managed to prolong the torture into two hours before forcing himself to pack up and leave the safety of his chosen world.

Not his only chose world any more, though. He had another one with Warrick. A strange one that was intimidating and unfamiliar and still managed to scare the hell out of him at times. And that wasn’t even taking the love thing into consideration; that was just the way the spirit world sometimes decided to interact with the physical one so that Gil could get a little extra ‘help’ from those whose deaths he investigated.

The love thing...that just straight out terrified him.

Gil was parked outside of his own home for fifteen minutes before finally managing to prod himself into going inside. He wasn’t sure what scared him more; finding, or not finding, Warrick waiting for him. They’d exchanged keys the same day he’d met, but nine times out of ten, they stayed at his house. His neighbors weren’t the least bit interested in who was staying there, but Warrick’s apartment neighbors were extremely nosy. Not to mention that Warrick always managed to make him lose control and, to his utter mortification, Gil was extremely loud during their love making. His house was far enough away from his neighbors that it wasn’t a real issue, thankfully.

“Warrick?” he called hesitantly on entering. There was no answer and he sighed in disappointment, muttering, “That answers that question.”

Shrugging out of his coat and hanging it up, Gil tossed the briefcase onto the sofa, for once not caring that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. From there, he walked the shore distance to his kitchen and poured a glass of water, drinking it down in one go. Even knowing he’d regret it in the small hours of the morning, he drank another one before heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It didn’t take long to get through his ablutions and, once done, he just stared at his reflection. He felt every one of his years as he thought about the empty bed waiting for him in the other room. “When are you going to learn? Give and take is usually mastered by age three, or not at all, and you do know how to share.”

“Sharin’ your heart’s a little more difficult than sharing toys.”

Gil jumped in fright at Warrick’s unexpected words, whirling to find his lover standing in the doorframe. If he hadn’t been so self-absorbed, he would’ve noticed. Heart thumping fast, he exclaimed, “Don’t do that!”

A grin flashed briefly over Warrick’s lips as he replied, “Sorry. I thought you knew I was here.”

“There was no car in the driveway,” Gil pointed out, frowning.

“Took a cab, since someone left me at the church without a ride.”

Gil winced with guilt.

The grin returned and Warrick waved it aside. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Warrick...”

Warrick’s fingers covered Gil’s mouth as he repeated, “Don’t worry about it. Just come on to bed. We’re both exhausted and on edge. This’ll be easier to talk about when we’ve had some sleep.”

Knowing that was true, Gil nodded and followed his lover into the bedroom. An awkwardness descended such as he hadn’t felt since the first few days of their relationship when he stood by the bed that Warrick climbed into without any apparent hesitation.

“Problem?”

“A little.”

“About?”

Gil tried to find the words to explain the odd, unfamiliar emotions inside, but couldn’t. Warrick sighed and held the blankets up, ordering, “In. Now. I’m tired, Gil.”

A little surprised at the firm words, Gil got under the covers and, in short order, found Warrick ensconced comfortably in his arms, over his chest. Bemused by the presumptive action, Gil draped his arm in its usual place over Warrick’s back, enjoying the solid mass of his lover’s body resting on his own.

For several minutes the only sounds were of their breathing. Until Warrick said quietly, “You’re an asshole sometimes, Gris, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It also doesn’t mean that I won’t forgive you and I’m sure as hell not leaving because you got in a snit. You’re allowed, man. I know none of this is easy for you. I shouldn’t have said what I did, back at the Church, and I sure didn’t mean to upset you, even though I did.”

Now how the hell does he wind up apologizing for me being a jerk? Gil wondered. Sighing, Gil countered, “I shouldn’t have left you like that, or snapped at you.”

“You’re allowed,” Warrick repeated, kissing Gil’s throat. “You want to call it even and drop it?”

Gil chuckled and asked, “Can we?”

“You got it, lover,” Warrick agreed readily, offering his own snort of amusement.

His sigh this time of contentment at the renewed peace between them, Gil gently slipped into sleep.

*  *  *  *

Waking up first, Warrick stared at the ceiling for a long time before he even thought about moving. The fight with Gil, if it could be even called that, had brought something home to him that he’d been avoiding for months now. Gil had absolutely no idea how to handle conflict in a relationship. He never talked about his childhood or parents, except the one time when they’d found out his mother was deaf, but Warrick suspected there hadn’t been much in the ups and downs; at least in the marital department.

A little tiff like last night had sent Gil running for cover and he’d clearly thought that Warrick would have a difficult time forgiving him for something that was barely an offense. Well, barely one in Warrick’s opinion at least. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to handle something like this. All the women he’d dated in the past had had no problem whatsoever with calling him on the carpet.

Snorting to himself, Warrick thought, Calling me on the carpet, throwing lamps or vases at me, swinging the occasional baseball bat. Gil though, he ain’t going to do that sort of thing. I don’t think it even occurs to him that he’s still got the right to get pissed at me, now that we’re lovers. Maybe he’s seen too much violence and psychosis to think tempers can flare and people will still be standing, let alone able to love each other, after.

It was a real problem, and one he wasn’t entirely sure how to figure out on his own. He had a feeling that the best thing to do was expose Gil to married couples who argued and were still in love after. Grinning at the idea, a plan began to form and he thought, Might as well kill two birds with one stone. She’s been hounding you to bring him by for months now, after all.

Gil was gonna kill him, but it was the best solution he could come up with.

*  *  *  *

“I hate it when you do this.”

Warrick grinned at the muttered complaint and corrected, “You love it when I do this,” as he drove into a part of Las Vegas they hadn’t been before, at least not together. The streets were as familiar as the back of Warrick’s hand, though, having grown up on them. Not a suburb, but not quite the city, either. Close enough to the Casinos for teens to get into trouble now and again, but not on a regular basis, not unless one of your friends could drive.

He’d managed to get Gil dressed and bundled into the SUV a short time after breakfast, not telling him anything of where they were going. He’d made a short call before waking his lover to make sure that their presence for Sunday dinner would be all right and had nearly been deafened by the response.

Pulling into a driveway, Warrick turned to face the other man and said, “I want you to take a deep breath and repeat after me.”

Gil frowned, but took a deep breath and waited for the mantra.

“I will not be intimidated by my in-laws.”

The frown instantly became dismay and Gil hissed, “You’re parents!? We’re at your parents’ house!?”

“Yep. And I expect they’ve known we were here since we turned down the street. My mother’s an uncanny woman,” Warrick promised, grinning.

“Warrick! You can’t just spring this on me! It’s not fair!” Gil protested, eyes flickering to the comfortable house a short distance away. “I don’t even know what to say to them!”

“Hello is always a good place to start. And don’t worry so much. They know all about us and my parents are happy that I’ve found someone to be with, even if you are white,” Warrick teased.

When the stymied, panicked look didn’t fade fast enough, Warrick leaned in and kissed Gil, long and deep and as sweet as he knew how. Combing his fingers through his lover’s soft hair, he took possession of Gil’s mouth with all the love and reassurance that he could convey in that one action.

When he pulled back to find a slightly dazed, and far calmer, expression in place, Warrick nodded in satisfaction and said, “That’s better. C’mon. Let’s go.”

Groaning, Gil nonetheless followed Warrick out of the SUV to the house, squaring his shoulders once on the steps as if about to face a guillotine. Chuckling, Warrick unlocked the door, opened it and called out, “Mom! Dad! We’re here!”

Gil tried to turn and walk out, but Warrick closed the door first, completely ignoring the pleading look the other man gave him.

“Warrick! Oh my boy, there you are! You’ve been hiding yourself away for too long! And this must be Gil. Well. I can certainly see where you’d catch my boy’s eye, Gil, so distinguished!”

Warrick grinned at Gil’s flush and the completely unexpected hug his mother, Anne, bestowed on Gil without so much as a by-your-leave. No one had ever called his mother shy. When she turned to hug him, Warrick greeted, “Hey, Mom, good to see you too.”

“What is this ‘good to see you,’ junk?” his father boomed, joining them. “You finally learn manners somewhere along the line? That must be your doing, Gil. It’s about time someone beat them into him. Thanks.”

His grin grew as Warrick saw a couple of cousins and an aunt peek into the hallway. It looked like the whole clan had come out to give Gil the once over. Though a pleasant smile was plastered onto his lover’s face, Warrick could see the near panic in his eyes and said, “What’s for dinner?”

His mother slapped him sharply upside the back of the head, ordering, “You make the introductions first, give Gil a tour of the house, and ask him if he wants anything to drink. What’s for dinner? Boy, you should be ashamed of yourself! I brought you up better than that!”

Sliding his arm around Gil’s waist, Warrick introduced, “Gil Grissom, these are my parents, Henry and Anne Brown.”

Gil shook both their hands and greeted, “It’s good to meet you both. You have a lovely home here.”

Warrick’s mother preened a bit and replied, “Why thank you, Gil. Warrick, go on and show him around and introduce him to everyone. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Everyone?” Gil muttered softly as Henry and Anne moved away.

Chuckling, Warrick replied, just as quiet, “Looks like the whole family’s here.”

Gil’s gaze followed the motion of Warrick’s head and he caught sight of the two kids in the hallway door, which led into a living room. He groaned, barely audible, and threatened, “You are so dead, Warrick.”

Warrick grinned and pulled him forward to meet the rest of the family.

*  *  *  *

The ride home that night was silent, but comfortable. Gil’s hand rested solidly on the back of Warrick’s neck, massaging it lightly, now and again. Inside the house again, Gil followed his lover into the living room and sat beside him on the sofa. Resting his head on the other man’s shoulder, he said, “Point taken.”

Warrick chuckled. “You mean I don’t have to beat you over the head with a blunt object?”

“I’m just...not used to this kind of thing,” Gil replied, wry. “You need to give me some time to adjust.”

Putting his arm around Gil’s shoulder and kissing the top of his head, Warrick said, “You can have all the time in the world, Gris. Just remember that we’re in this together, okay? You hurt, I hurt. If you’re confused or angry or upset, then I’m going to poke my nose in and try to help. And just because we fight or argue, doesn’t mean I’m going to take off.”

“So much for no blunt object,” Gil pointed out.

Warrick snorted and kissed him again. “Sorry. I just want you to know that you aren’t alone anymore.”

Relaxing against Warrick, Gil sighed deeply and twined their fingers together, saying simply, “Good.”