Title: Finally
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 26117
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes.
Warnings: AU and angst!
Spoilers: The final few episodes of S.10, so reader beware.
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Unbeta-ed: All mistakes will be mine.
A/N 1: This story came about as a result of a plot bunny I had during my recent holiday in Chicago and coinciding with the S.10 finale.

Gil was feeling happy and content with his lot. 

A department head from the University of Illinois in Chicago had phoned and asked him if he would fill in for their entomology tutor for about eight weeks, while he recovered from a heart attack.

So he was happy and excited about a new challenge.

 He wasn’t unsympathetic that the incumbent had suffered a heart attack, but he’d had the disappointment of the work at UNLV being delayed because of budgetary constraints so that apart from his writing and attending upcoming conventions he had no work lined up.  There would be consultancy work no doubt, but this...this was an unexpected bonus and he hadn’t hesitated to say ‘yes’.

Now he was just sitting down at his desk in the den, writing a list of what he had to do before he left on Sunday to fly to Chicago.  Booking the flight was already crossed off.

His list was complete for the time being, it was obviously a work in progress as he would remember things he had to do as he went along.  He felt a lightness within himself that had been missing recently; he retrieved his suitcase and duffel bag from their storage and started to lay things out on the spare bed.  Clothes he would need, for a start, but he stopped and laughed.  It didn’t matter what he put out to take Nick would take charge and change everything.

He stopped in his tracks.  He hadn’t told Nick.  Should he phone him?  Nick was late; some case must have kept him over and he hadn’t phoned or texted so he must be really busy, so Gil would tell him when he got home from work.  He stopped the clothes gathering and went back to the den.  The University were going to e-mail him the syllabus and indicate from where he needed to take up the challenge.  Gil would have just three days to amass the necessary books and read up what he would need immediately, and maybe plot out what he would need to research for the coming weeks.

The e-mail had arrived and Gil immersed himself in the information provided and jotted down the books he needed...he had them all.  He had just started to find out all the relevant books from his shelves when he heard Nick call out as he arrived home.

“Hi honey, I’m home.  Why isn’t my meal on the table...?”  He saw Gil emerge from their den.  “...and why are you wearing your clothes?”

“I have the distinct impression you consider me your personal slave...or sex slave more like.”

“Sex slave sounds good to me. “

By now they were hugging and Nick pulled back to kiss the end of Gil’s nose.

“You hungry?  I think I fancy something Mexican...”

“For breakfast?  I don’t think I could.”

“It’s really dinner.  Did you sleep last night?  I thought you were staying up to sleep with me?”

“I was, but I got so tired I had to go to bed.  I could still come to bed with you though.”  And he raised an eyebrow at Nick.  Nick’s smile back was a lot less than Gil was used to, though he didn’t seem to notice.

“You tired?”

“I guess.”

But Nick wasn’t happy about Gil coming to bed for sex and then getting up.  True, it meant they had sex, but it made Nick feel not quite right...when Gil got up and left him to sleep, it felt as if the only thing missing was the money on the bedside table.

“What do you want to eat then?”  Nick changed the subject.

“I’m not hungry, I had a sandwich an hour or so ago, but I’ll get something for you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get some cereal.”

“Good, I need to get back to some work I’m in the middle of doing.”

Nick didn’t respond and Gil turned on his heel and headed back to the den. Nick was undecided whether or not he was hungry at all now...but he decided he’d better have a bowl of cereal otherwise he’d lie in bed hungry and regret not eating.

So he took a bowl of cereal out onto the deck and sat in the shade as he looked over their yard.  It was good; it had taken a few years for them to get it as they...me, he thought, wanted, but he was satisfied now.  It was a water conserving yard and it attracted the birds that he loved to study and draw.

In only a few minutes his thoughts turned to Gil.  Nick knew he was disappointed that the UNLV had had to shelve their Forensic Science project for a year; they had no money to set it up.  When they did manage to find the money, it would surely be a success judging by the interest in the courses generated by the publication of a provisional prospectus.  And Gil would be in at ground level.

But it wasn’t that and deep down Nick knew it.  Gil had never been particularly forthcoming about anything, ever; it was always left to Nick to prise any information out of him.  He wasn’t secretive, he just didn’t share, wasn’t used to sharing, even after seven years together.  If Nick asked, Gil would tell him everything he wanted to know, but truth be told...Nick was fed up of asking.  He’d like to be told something for a change, without having to fish for it.

Nick would like a rest from organising their lives.  Gil had time now, but still didn’t take on any responsibilities.  Nick made out the grocery lists, put clothes ready for washing or dry-cleaning.  Made sure the bills were paid and checked them before they were.  At first it was fun...and a joke, Gil said he liked being taken care of since it gave him more time to concentrate on important things, like fucking...

Well that had been kicked into touch.  No, that was mean, they still had great sex, they really did, and when did they last make love?  The day before yesterday and Nick smiled at the memory, but then sighed because Gil had got up and left him in bed when he’d recovered his breath.  Not very loving and Nick had felt...abandoned, he liked to cuddle and sleep in Gil’s arms. 

Perhaps he was being oversensitive, he didn’t know.  Gil hadn’t really changed, it was him and he knew it, he’d let Gil carry on in is own inimitable style, indulging him almost, and now it had come back and bitten him on his ass. 

But something had to give, something had to change.

Nick thought about it and the weekend after next was his weekend off work, and he was not even on call.  He’d book them a little vacation somewhere...maybe just a cabin up in Zion, for a couple of nights, but somewhere different and they could reconnect and Nick would explain how he felt.

He suddenly felt a great deal easier about the situation, Gil was nothing if not entirely reasonable, if Nick explained, Gil would understand.  Nick was just over tired and making it out to be a big deal when it actually wasn’t.

So he took his bowl back into the kitchen and then popped his head around the den door.

“I’m beat, I’m going to bed, see you later.”  He could see Gil was concentrating on some work and he smiled at himself as Gil murmured back.

“Night Nicky, my love, sleep well.”  But he didn’t lift his head from his book.

Several hours later Gil’s stomach rumbled and he decided to take a short break, take a piss and then find something to eat.  And then it struck him.  He hadn’t told Nick about Chicago.  It would be okay, he’d tell him later, when he woke.

Nick woke suddenly and thought he was late.  He scrambled around in bed and looked at the clock.  The alarm hadn’t sounded...it would wake the dead and it was indeed an hour and half later than he would normally get up, but then he still had plenty of time to get ready quite comfortably.  He stretched and wondered where Gil was.

And then Gil walked through the door holding a glass of juice. “Hey, you’re awake, I was just coming to wake you up.”

“It’s weird I must have forgotten to put the alarm on.”

“No, you didn’t, I came in a couple of hours ago and you were absolutely dead to the world so I thought I’d turn it off and give you some extra time, since you were so tired.  Feel better?”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  What do you want to eat?”

“Mmmm...let me see...I think I want an omelette...with cheese.  And bacon.  And mushrooms. Maybe a grilled tomato or two...”

“Really?  Toast?”

“Yeah, and coffee.”

“I’ll go start it.”

“I want to spend at least twenty, thirty minutes on the running machine.”

“Right: I’ll get everything ready and you tell me when I’ve got to start cooking.  Okay?”

“Okay.  It’s a deal.”

Gil sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Nick and put his head on Nick’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck.  He could feel the warmth of the skin and soaked in the familiar smell.  He would miss Nick very much.  Nick’s arms circled his back and he felt loved and happy.

Gil kissed him briefly.  “Come on then, up you get and tone that body of yours.”

“Yep, I will.”

Gil released him and Nick sprang up and threw off the bedclothes.  He sat on the side of the bed and sipped his juice.  Gil chuckled; Nick was always instantly awake and alert.  He ruffled his hair and left him to it.  He had Nick’s breakfast and his dinner to make.  Nick had to do his exercise and watching him wore Gil out.

Forty five minutes later they were sitting at their breakfast bar eating their omelettes.  Nick had to acknowledge that they both had strengths and weaknesses in the cooking stakes, but Gil managed a mean omelette.  

About half way through the meal.  Gil suddenly put down his fork. 

“God, I nearly forgot, again.  The University of Illinois, in Chicago, phoned me first thing this morning and offered me a job for eight weeks...filling in for a sick professor.”

“Wow, that’s great.”  Nick was genuinely pleased.  “You should consider taking it.”

“I did consider it and told them straight away that I’d do it...I’m flying out on Sunday.”

Nick put his fork down and stared at Gil.  “You’re going?  You’re going, just like that?  On Sunday?”

“Yes.  What’s wrong?”

“You’re just going?  You never thought to ask me?”

“Ask you?  I don’t have to ask your permission.”

If the announcement had ratcheted up Nick’s anger from one to five, this statement sent it from five to ten.

“I don’t mean that and you know it.  I mean talk to me about it, ask my opinion.  You know, discuss it with your partner.  The man with whom you share your life.  Who sometimes shares your bed.  Didn’t you think to just run it past me?”

“I think you’re being a bit melodramatic; it’s only for eight weeks and they needed to know straight away.  I thought you’d be pleased.  It means I’ll have some more money to contribute...”

The anger just exploded from Nick who jumped to his feet.  “We’ve got more than enough money and you know it.  But you share your life with me and I would never make a decision like that without at least running it past you.  We’re supposed to be a couple.  But you know what, I’m only the afterthought, the little housewife type who does as he’s told and puts up and shuts up.  This isn’t a partnership; it’s you, with me on the side.”

He stormed out of the kitchen and heard Gil sigh as he left.  It’s a good job he had left because he seriously felt like hitting something...or someone.

By the time Nick got to the bedroom, he had no idea what to do.  Shower and leave for work.  That was his best option.  He ran the water hot and got under the scalding water, flinching at the heat before he became accustomed to it.

A few moments later Gil came into the bathroom.  “Nick.”  He shouted above the water noise.  “Nick, come on, I didn’t do it deliberately behind your back, it was a good offer and I took it.  Even you said so...before I said I’d already taken up the offer...come on, this is childish...”

Nick would have nearly let Gil off the hook...if he hadn’t mentioned being childish.  He switched off the water mid-wash and opened the cubicle door.

“That’s it isn’t it?  You think I’m less than equal to you...the minor in this relationship ...”

“...you know I don’t think that...”

“...do I?  When have you ever demonstrated that we are an equal partnership?”

And of course Gil couldn’t think of an instance to relate back to Nick.  Finally he remembered.  “Look how long we discussed whether or not I should leave CSI?  It took months, and we talked about it all the time.  I listened to everything you had to say.”

“Yeah, it did.  You know why?  Because you couldn’t make up your own mind.  I wasn’t going to say, do it, or don’t do it, because it had to be your decision and I didn’t want to influence you.  But in the end my views made no difference, you did what you wanted to do, when you wanted to do it.  You even recruited Ray to take your wise guy place.  Because you thought we wouldn’t be able to manage without an elder statesman...”

“...that’s not true.”

“Colour me sceptical.  Of course it is and you don’t know just how much he undermines Catherine.  I’m the only one who seems able to manage him...I must have had some practise from somewhere, managing difficult egotists.”

“Jesus, Nick, you’re being totally unreasonable and changing the subject.  I was offered a post on an emergency basis and I took it...it’s for eight weeks and you’re throwing a fit like it was eight months.”

“And would that have made any difference, I bet it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it would.”

“Funny thing is, Gil.  I don’t believe you.  I gotta shower.”

Nick switched the water back on and shuddered at the now cold water.  But he was furious so it cooled him down a little.  Gil just didn’t see the principle involved at all, and Nick recalled his thoughts on the deck before he went to bed.  Gil really expected Nick to just roll over and take it all.  But the worm had turned.

Nick got ready for work and walked out into the living room.  Gil was in the kitchen.  Nick stood for a few moments undecided whether to just leave, or to speak.  But Gil saw him.

“I made your sandwiches.  Here.”  Gil handed Nick his lunch box.

“Thanks.  I’m off then.”

“Okay, have a good night.”

Neither man made an attempt to kiss each other and Nick just left; Gil watched him go.

When the door was closed, a little too firmly, Gil sighed and rubbed his temples hard with his fingertips.  There was no mistaking the beginnings of a headache.  He’d take some Tylenol straightaway and try to avert a full blown headache.

Gil was convinced he’d done the right thing.  They’d needed a speedy response and he needed a job.  Oh, he knew they had enough money, but it was the principle involved...a job, some prestige...not relying on Nick all the time.  He knew he didn’t, he had money, but...it was the work.  He missed working...a proper job. 

He could never have been accused of acting quickly and foolishly before leaving CSI, but in retrospect maybe it wasn’t the best thing he’d ever done.  Nick had said as much to him.  Although he supported his decision one hundred percent, he had told Gil that even as a bit of a loner he may miss the work...and particularly the human interaction.

He had to find a way back into Nick’s good books.  He couldn’t leave him feeling as he did.  He hoped Nick’s lunch would help in that respect.  

 

On the way to work Nick was still fuming about Gil and his unilateral decision making.  It was ever the same.  And Nick was still prepared to take some of the blame for letting Gil get away with his behaviour for years.

He had no time at work to think about what to do; they were busy dealing with a death by drowning of a comic...in a nightclub.  It wasn’t funny.  But as usual Greg had a wealth of fairly useless information about the elderly comic.  Nick was suspicious about Greg...he was forever talking about sex and what his friends got up to, but it was likely, in Nick’s opinion, that he was living in fantasy land and the only  escapades Greg was party to were probably with his right hand, and for variety...his left...

Nevertheless, the murder was odd but they managed to complete their enquiries and Brass had nailed the comedian’s partner before the end of shift.

At break time Nick had time to actually go and eat his lunch, prepared earlier by Gil.  As soon as Nick opened the box he knew it was a peace offering.  It was his favourite tuna fish on rye with a side of salad.  Tucked inside was a tiny note.  Greg saw it immediately, although why he was looking in Nick’s lunch box was beyond Nick.  Maybe because he’d got a bag of chips and what looked like a greasy wrap of some sort.

“A billet doux?”

“Don’t know I haven’t read it yet.”

“Well Grissom’s not likely to put a grocery list in there is he?”

As Nick’s eyebrows raised and he looked across at Greg, Greg nodded.  “Oh.”  And at least he didn’t pursue the nature of the note’s contents.

Of course Gil had never put a grocery list in his sandwiches...this particular endearment was reserved exclusively for apologies.  But Nick’s pleasure at the prospect of a brief apology was short lived.  The note said, in Gil’s neat handwriting.

‘N. I love you. G.’

Now Nick acknowledged it was sweet and plainly Gil didn’t want to continue any argument about what he’d done, but it spoke loud and clear to Nick and it really said.

‘N. I love you, but I’m still right and you’re still wrong. G.’

“It is a grocery list then?”  Greg picked up on what must have been a sour expression from Nick.

“No...it’s for the laundry...”  Nick put his head down and ate his delicious lunch; he was hungry having abandoned his omelette half way through.  Although on this particular occasion he would not admit to Gil how good it did taste.

When Nick had completed his paperwork and caught up on the stuff Catherine had dumped in his in-tray while he was out, he drove home.  He’d lost the angry mood and he was now in an almost resigned mood; but still he couldn’t believe that they had just two days left, and he was working both nights before Gil left for eight weeks in Chicago.  In their nearly seven years together it would be their longest separation.  He wondered if Gil had realised that.

And then it struck him...it was very nearly seven years that they’d been together.  Was this the seven years’ itch?  Was this Gil’s way of getting away from...not just him, but their relationship?  The feeling of resignation that Gil would go, get it out of his system, and then come back, suddenly became much more worrying.  What if Gil went away to Chicago and enjoyed the experience and the sick guy couldn’t get back to work and they offered the job to Gil...permanently?  The thoughts came tumbling out of Nick’s brain.

He was bought back to the present by a horn honking behind him – a light had changed to green.

No.  Nick was wrong; he wouldn’t have put the note in his lunch.  But what if Gil didn’t know what he wanted?  Maybe he’d just jumped at the chance to have some alone time to be away from him.  What if he did meet someone else?

Nick thumped his steering wheel and shouted at himself.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Stokes, you’re jumping from theory to theory without a shred of evidence.”

But he knew that maybe he’d planted a fertile seed in his own brain.

When he walked through the door of their home he’d already formed a plan.  Gil wasn’t around but as he made his way to the kitchen to get a drink, Gil emerged from the den.  He looked very tired.  Nick knew that he’d stayed up all night.  Okay, so it was probably to do work for Chicago, but he would be coming to bed with him, so that would help the plan along.

Nick’s plan was to let Gil go unhindered to Chicago and be calm and reasonable, after all it was obviously something Gil wanted to do, but when Gil came back Nick was going to address the problems they had, at least as he perceived them.  It wasn’t asking a lot, was it?  To be on equal footing and be considered when decisions had to made?  Nick didn’t think so, but he strongly suspected that Gil would be indignant and deny any wrongdoing.  But then he was a reasonable man, thought Nick.

“Hey, how was work?”  Gil rubbed his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“Good.  Cleared a case; made some headway on pushing paper.  Your favourite job.”

Nick decided to make a peace offering of sorts.  He walked over to Gil and hugged him.  Gil joined in enthusiastically.

“I hate arguing, Nicky.”

“I know; me too.”  But Nick wasn’t going to say any more...and neither, apparently, was Gil.  Proof to Nick that Gil didn’t think that he’d done anything to warrant an apology.

“You know what I could drink?  Hot milk.”

“Ugh!”   Hot milk got the same reaction as peanut butter from Nick.  He didn’t mind it ice cold...but hot, no way.

“I can’t make you one then?”  Gil chuckled.

“No way, man.  I’ll have a Jasmine tea.”

“Good choice, actually maybe I could have that as well.  What do you want to eat...please don’t say Mexican.”  Gil wrinkled his nose as he said the word and Nick kissed the tip of it causing Gil’s eyes to cross as he looked down his nose and they both laughed.

“Hot buttered toast and some of that fancy imported marmalade you have.”

“Hey, another good choice.  Go and have your shower and I’ll start the ball rolling.”

“Okay.”

Nick soaped himself down and laughed quietly at Gil’s behaviour.  He wouldn’t apologise because he didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, on the surface.  But Nick was convinced that somewhere, buried deeply in Gil’s psyche, he knew...he knew he was taking advantage of Nick.

The tea and toast were delicious, eaten in the shade out on their deck.  When Gil had finished, he stretched and said he was going for a shower and that he expected Nick to be in bed waiting for him when he emerged, damp and hard, and that maybe, just maybe, Nick should start preparing himself.

Nick thought a little and then nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Nick lay in bed waiting for Gil.  He’d pushed all the bedding down to the bottom of the bed and retrieved the lube.  He arranged the pillows so that he was propped up a little and could see the bathroom door quite easily.

He’d been hard in moments when Gil had mentioned what he wanted Nick to do.  There was one thing he couldn’t fault Gil on, and that was the sex.  From the very first time they’d kissed, fellated, masturbated and fucked each other it had been the best.  True, he didn’t like Gil leaving him to sleep alone after they’d made love, but the sex was still...pretty great.

Nick smiled as he heard the shower stop.  The bathroom was quiet; Gil didn’t sing or make any noise, he never did, but he would be out in moments, exactly as he’d promised, damp and hard.  So he got to work a little harder, he’d slathered lube over his hands and dick and then when it he’d warmed it...which he always did and Gil never did...he slipped his hand beneath his ass and spread it around his anus and then dipped his finger in a little way, providing the first lubrication.

He laughed silently as his dick bobbed up and down with interest at the slight penetration.   And, as if on cue, the bathroom door swung open and a suitably damp Gil emerged, his dark and swollen dick swinging beneath his belly with his balls already tightened in their sac.

“You take directions so well, lover.”

He climbed onto the end of the bed and knelt between Nick’s legs...by his feet. He picked up both of Nick’s legs by his ankles and put then on his shoulders and then retrieved one foot and began massaging the toes and foot.  He was good and Nick heaved a sigh of contentment.

“Where’s the oil?”  Gil held his hand out and Nick leaned over and retrieved the baby oil from the bedside drawer and then flicked the lid open and gave a substantial shot to Gil’s palm.  They got through a lot of the stuff.  He slung the bottle onto the bed and lay with his hands linked behind his head and watched Gil as he smoothed the oil over each of his feet and then continued massaging one and then the other.  Nick sighed again as he settled; Gil was a great masseur...and he was going to lie back and enjoy it, he told himself that he deserved it.

When Gil had finished with both feet and ankles, making them feel to Nick as if they would uselessly flap around if he tried to stand on them, Gil worked his way up Nick’s legs.  Kneading his calf muscles and massaging his knees.  As the skin became more sensitive Gil began kissing and then licking behind Nick’s knees.  Nick didn’t know if it was excruciatingly ticklish or hellishly sexy, or even both, but he started squirming.

Gil chuckled at Nick’s fidgeting; he kissed and nibbled his way up the inside of each of Nick’s thighs in turn.  When Gil reached his groin his cheek pushed a ball out of the way while he licked the skin where leg met belly, on one side and then the other. 

Nick’s erection had faded while Gil had massaged Nick’s legs, not because it wasn’t sexy but because the feelings had been centred in his limbs...loose and relaxed.  But as Gil reached his groin, it sprang back into action and leaked...making the head glisten in the half lit bedroom.

Gil kissed and tugged at the skin then licked it to soothe it, but studiously ignored Nick’s dick.  It responded with a jerk at each movement of Gil’s and Nick was getting impatient for at least a little pressure being applied to it...he tried running his hands through Gil’s hair, damp with sweat now and not shower water, and repositioning Gil’s head to make his mouth take him in, but Gil resisted.

He ran his finger nails down the back of Nick’s thighs and Nick’s ass came of the bed, exactly as Gil had anticipated, and he slipped his hands onto each of Nick’s small round buttocks.  A favourite place.  He loved to knead the muscled flesh and even though Nick always denied it, it made Nick purr like a big cat.  Maybe it was the description he disliked, not the kneading, Gil mused as he inched his fingers...all of them...closer to Nick’s asshole.  He would need some lube before he pushed his cock in but there was sufficient for his needs at the moment.

He teased the sensitive skin with both his middle fingers and gently pushed his fingers into Nick, breaching the tight muscle.  There was no problem, Nick was a master at bottoming, and even though he did top, his preference was for Gil to ride him, and Gil liked to think he provided the best possible pleasure for Nick.  Every time, all the time.  They were very successful bed mates.

The position of Gil’s body over Nick meant he was able to start licking and kissing Nick’s chest.  The smooth, hairless chest with small brown nipples.  They were actually very small but that didn’t stop them becoming erect under Gil’s mouth and fingers and they were extremely sensitive.

Gil smirked to himself.  It was true to say that all of Nick was sensitive.  The guy was a born hedonist and he’d found the perfect foil in Gil, who’s favourite pastime was not bugs, as Catherine would think and say, but playing Nick like a finely tuned instrument.

“Oh mannnn...”  Right on cue Nick started whining; it would be about his poor old cock missing out on the action.  “My dick is desperate for a little acknowledgement, man...he’s feeling very left out...there’s a party going on...and he’s not been invited...”  Nick’s whine, deliciously conducted in his broadest Texan twang, whispered and breathy and hardly decipherable.

As a reward for being so sexy, Gil pulled back and let his fingers push further into Nick and then bent over and just gently ran the tip of his tongue along Nick’s slit, tasting the leaking fluid that was the taste of Nick.

The whisper morphed into a shout and he pushed up into Gil’s mouth, managing to get about an inch into his mouth as Gil pulled back.

“That little guy has to learn some patience.”

That got Nick’s attention.  “Little?  What do you mean?”

“Just checking you were paying attention and your mind wasn’t wondering.”

“Bastard.”

This was a reference to a big mistake Nick made when they first became lovers.  He’d just mentioned one time when they were post coital that to stave off his orgasm and give him some breathing space he would think about the Dallas Cowboys games he’d been to as a kid and try and remember who made the runs.  His father had season tickets for the family...there were a lot of games to remember.

Gil used a similar device for exactly the same reason, but despite years of cajoling had never told Nick what it was.

He laughed.  “Don’t let my Mom hear you call me that.”

Nick knew that although she couldn’t hear, Mary Grissom could lip read anything.  Nick was always cautious in her presence, especially after she’d picked up on a remark he’d made to Gil about Gil farting in bed.  She said her Gilbert never farted, because she’d never heard him...and Nick had just managed to stop himself from saying, ‘but what about the stink...’

Both men had used this time thinking of other things as a short cooling off period and now Gil renewed his assault on Nick’s ass.  And while his fingers explored the depths and searched for Nick’s prostate, Gil’s lips arrived at their destination...Nick’s lips.

They kissed gently and thoroughly, using their tongues and teeth on each other, with expert knowledge.  Each knew just what the other liked and loved...their teeth tugging at skin and their tongues soothing it.  As Gil’s fingers found Nick’s prostate, Nick arched up under him and Nick grabbed Gil’s head to kiss him and then laved his neck and nibbled just behind his ears and then along his collarbone.

He also had to grab his own dick to give it a tug or two, and Gil chuckled at him and whispered to him.

“I love you, but you have no staying power.”

“Don’t care, babe, not one bit.”  He smiled a lazy, sexy smile up at Gil.

“God, Nick... I’m gonna miss you.”

For a moment Nick’s smile faded and he looked at Gil, sweating and flushed just inches from him.  He could spoil the moment but he wouldn’t, this was too important. 

Gil pulled a pillow from beside Nick and pushed it under Nick’s ass.  He then pulled Nick’s compliant legs up and Nick took hold of them. Gil pulled back and reached for the lube and then generously plastered his cock with it...the first time he’d touched himself since he’d emerged from the bathroom.

Nick always tried not to, but could never manage; Gil’s sexual prowess and will power were formidable.  Same as decision making thought Nick, momentarily.  But Gil’s dick pressing at his ass made him forget all thoughts and concentrate on the feeling.  Tight.  Hot.  Pleasurable.  Unbelievably fucking sexy as Gil entered Nick.  Nick knew he moved slowly and carefully, not rushing and risking hurting him.

Nick lowered his legs and Gil leaned over Nick, his weight distributed on his hands and knees, as his cock finished its journey and his balls, tight, were pressed against Nick’s ass.  Though the room was fairly cool with their air conditioning, Gil was dripping sweat onto Nick’s chest.  Each drop burning hot on the skin, for just for a moment. 

Gil started to pull back slowly and caught Nick’s prostate, both out and then in again, and then again and again as the pace started to quicken.  As Gil was moving and hanging over Nick, Nick’s dick was catching on Gil’s hot belly, with not enough friction to make him ejaculate it was still driving Nick wild and the shockwaves of pleasure in his own belly and balls as Gil hit the little gland over and over again, made Nick pump himself, he was trying to hang on for as long as he could but it was becoming almost too much sensory overload and he wanted relief; he wanted those precious moments of extreme pleasure... 

As he thought he couldn’t manage another second of Gil’s onslaught on his ass he realised that Gil was losing it...he was losing his exquisite rhythm, he was murmuring nonsensical words, he was about to pass the point of no return and Nick knew the moment had arrived for both of them.

His eyes open but unseeing he grabbed his hard dick...so hard it was almost painful, but it wasn’t at all, it was on fire and with three pumps he was throwing out stream after stream of fluid, over his hand, over his chest and over Gil’s belly.  He tried to tighten his ass and had no idea whether he was successful or not, but Gil shuddered and growled and was bucking into him as he emptied himself into Nick.

And then they were quiet except for their rasping breath and Gil hovered for a few moments or two and then collapsed onto Nick.  Nick wrapped his legs and his arms around Gil, hugging him to him and always surprised at how hot he was.   He smiled to himself because that was physically and metaphorically speaking.

“My knees are complaining Nicky; they’re getting too old for this.”  Gil whispered.

“Just your knees?”

Gil manoeuvred himself to lie beside Nick. “Less of the cheek, my knees have done a lot of bending and crouching...”

“...and fucking?”

“That too.”  Nick could hear the fun in Gil’s voice.

Nick cuddled up to Gil, he wasn’t going to move again until he had to get up; they’d long given up getting wash clothes and tissues to clean up.  Sex between two men was messy, so they showered when they got up and changed the bedding, often,

But Nick was very happy and feeling forgiving as he lay in Gil’s arms, in no man’s land, between sleep and wakefulness.  Then he remembered what he was going to say when Gil had said he’d miss him.  ‘You don’t have to go...’  All Nick would have to remember for eight weeks was a sticky belly and a slightly sore backside.  Then Nick remembered something and he was awake and nearly alert.

“This guy you’re covering for, you said he’s had a heart attack.”

“Yeah.”

“And that they wanted you for eight weeks and then he would be back at work?”

“Yeah, two to three months they said it would take.”

“But you’re going for eight weeks...and if he’s not back at work then?”

“They’ll want me to stay a little longer to cover...”

 And that was when Nick’s happy got up and left the room... 

 

Nick moved away from Gil and lay on his back staring at the ceiling; he started to simmer with anger, their lovemaking only minutes before, completely forgotten.

“So it could be twelve weeks or even longer, not eight weeks, like you said?”

“It’s unlikely, heart attack patients aren’t the invalids they used to be.  The department head seemed to think he’ll be back in eight weeks.”

“But he doesn’t know for certain and neither do you, do you?”  Nick’s voice had taken on a hard edge and Gil knew he wouldn’t easily smooth this over.

“No.”

“You lied to me; said it was eight weeks and it could twelve...sixteen, Christ, it could be a permanent job.  How could you do that to me, Gil?  Tell me how?”

“Nick, I haven’t done anything to you.  I’ve been taken on for eight weeks, temporarily.  The head must know how serious the heart attack has been and seemed very confident he’d be back at work in eight weeks...he was probably told that, he has no reason to lie to me and I've no reason to lie to you.”

“But you did...you can call it a sin of omission if you want, but you made a decision without consulting me and then only told me half the story.  Do you actually know we’re supposed to be partners, do you actually know we’re supposed to share our lives, or did that bit of our relationship pass you by?”

Gil wanted to go to sleep; the last thing he wanted to do was argue with Nick when he wasn’t fully alert.  But he had to try and calm him down.

“I did it in good faith, I didn’t exclude you, I thought you’d be happy I'd found some temporary work to keep me busy, I thought you’d be happy for me instead of creating all this fuss...in fact, when I told you, you were all in favour of me taking it, so all of this is because I’m not allowed to make a reasonable decision about my life, on my own?  Is that it?  Do you want to know when I need a take a dump?  Do I need to run it past you, first?”  Even as Gil spoke he knew that instead of trying to calm him down, he’d just fanned the flames of Nick’s anger, but that was Nick’s own fault for choosing to fight with him when his brain was still without a workable blood supply.

“So that’s it, in a nutshell.  You’re reasonable and I’m unreasonable.  I’m surprised you even think it’s necessary to live together, since you think your life is all your own.  And here’s me thinking I’m part of a couple, a partnership.  What am I Gil?  A good fuck, a good maid service, a good cook?  But not good enough to be your equal partner.  Well screw you.  Do as you please...or should that be continue to do as you please.  I can do this; I can live my life as a single man.  Just watch me.”  Nick jumped from the bed and made for the bathroom.

“Nick!  Nick!  Don’t be ridiculous.”  Gil was still struggling to sit up as the bathroom door slammed shut and he heard a click.  Nick had locked it; he’d never done that before.

Gil swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his weary head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.  He sighed.  That had gone well!  But he couldn’t remember a time when Nick was as angry as that.  They had the occasional argument, but were soon reconciled.  This might take a bit of effort since he only has two and a bit days...and Nick had two shifts to work.  He heard the shower running.  He wondered what Nick was going to do...Gil thought Nick really ought to sleep, but he’d have to wait and see.  Gil couldn’t do much else.  If he was hoping that Nick would pack his clothes for him, he was being overly optimistic, he knew that.

He waited.

He continued to sit of the side of the bed; if he lay down he’d fall asleep and that would not be a good idea right now.  But Nick was taking a long time...the water must have run cold by now.  As if on cue the water stopped running and Gil heard some movement in the bathroom, but he couldn’t make out what Nick was doing.

Long minutes later, Nick unlocked the door and came out, a towel wrapped around his waist and holding his wash bag.  That was what he’d been doing, getting his wash bag from the unit beneath the sink.

“What are you doing?”

“Just putting a few things together, I’ll stay in a motel, or something, until you’ve gone and then I’ll come back.  Sort out what I’m going to do.”

Now Gil was wide awake.  Nick was talking of leaving?  Leaving the house?  Leaving the relationship?  Over one silly argument?

“Don’t be ridicu...”  Gil started and then thought that given the circumstances that would be a ridiculous thing to say. “Nick, we can sort this out?  Please don’t go.”   Better.

“Are you going to cancel Chicago?”

“I've promised I’ll...”

“...so a promise to a stranger is worth more to you than a life with your lover?  Fine.”

“It’s not that, you’re twisting my words, the situation...”

“...how do you see it then?  You didn’t make a decision to leave for eight weeks without even thinking about me?”

“Of course I thought about you, I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“You know me that well?  I don’t mind you making decisions about you leaving me for eight weeks?”

“You obviously mind.”

“Yes, I do, but you never even gave that a thought did you?  A single man living in a partnership.  Not one of a couple, an us...just you...and me as the afterthought.”

“It was nothing like that.  You do not need to leave the house over this, Nick.  I’ll sleep in the spare room, you need to get some sleep and we’ll figure this out.”

“I never thought I'd ever say it, Gil, but I don’t want to sleep in our bed.”  Nick was suddenly very quietly spoken and Gil was crushed, by just the one sentence. 

He had no more words he could think of.  “Please, please, Nick.  Don’t go.  Don’t leave.”

“You don’t want me to leave...how do you think you leaving makes me feel?”

“I’ll be back; it’s only a temporary job.  Are you leaving me?”

Nick shrugged and turned his back.  He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he was angry with Gil.  More angry than he’d ever been.  But was he being melodramatic?

“I’ll sleep in the spare room.”

“You need to sleep; we can talk when we’ve both rested.”

Nick looked as sceptical as Gil had ever seen him...and then he remembered that his duffel bag and some clothes were on one of the twin beds in the spare room.  “I’ll move my stuff out of the spare room.”

“Stuff?”

“Packing.”  Gil spoke over his shoulder as he left their bedroom.  Nick sighed and shook his head at the information.  And then followed Gil.

Gil was hastily stuffing whatever clothes had been on the bed into his bag.

“I can use the other bed.”  Nick closed the curtains and turned to look at Gil who was staring at him.  For the first time since Gil had told him about Chicago, Nick sensed that Gil was wavering; undecided about whether he should actually go.  But it didn’t feel like a victory to Nick.

Neither man spoke for what seemed like minutes but was probably less than a minute.  Gil broke the silence.  “I’ll leave you to get some rest.”  But he still stayed and stared at Nick for a long moment before turning and leaving.

For the first time Nick felt tears prick his eyes but he took several gulps of breath.  He was not going to cry.  This was far too serious for him to be a cry baby.  But he managed a quiet, macabre laugh...Gil looked ridiculous, butt naked with drying semen on his belly and his sweat soaked hair all over the place. Then Nick remembered that Gil had called him ridiculous...

 Fucking hell, what a mess.

He settled into the cold and lonely bed thinking he wouldn’t sleep, but he was so physically tired and emotionally drained that he did, almost immediately.

Unlike Gil, who felt the loss of Nick from their bed, acutely.  Many times in the ensuing hours he turned in his sleep to find and touch Nick, and awoke when he couldn’t.

 

When the alarm sounded Gil switched it off and rubbed his eyes.  He felt as if he’d hardly slept and his eyes were gritty.  But the first thing on his mind was Nick.  He had to do something to calm Nick down, to be able to go to Chicago.  He was so looking forward to it...but then would he go, if it meant losing Nick?  No.  No, he’d stay, but then would he be resentful?  Probably.

There had to be a solution, there had to be; whereby he could pacify Nick and go to Chicago.  Nick was reasonable; he was always reasonable and if Gil had just couched his words in a different manner...not letting Nick think he’d agreed to the decision without speaking to him first, then all of this would all been avoided.  How was it, after nearly seven years together, and knowing Nick for twelve years altogether had he missed this little character foible?  He had no idea and it was such a big issue for Nick, and yet he had missed it and it must have been right under his nose.

He dragged his weary bones into the bathroom, and started the shower while he took a piss.  He showered in cool water, then dressed and made his way to the kitchen to start the coffee machine.

Then he went to wake Nick.  He pushed the door open and he could hear Nick’s steady breathing, he was deeply asleep; this was Nick’s version of snoring.  How well he knew the sound.  He walked over to the bed and stood looking at Nick.  Even asleep he was the most handsome man Gil had ever seen.  When they’d started dating Gil could never quite believe his luck.  When they went to gay clubs, all the men stared at Nick and then shot envious glances at Gil.  And women.  They tracked his movements when he went places...any place...Gil had seen it at so many times, even at crime scenes, he’d lost count.

And then when anyone got to know him, they liked him even more because Nick really was the good guy, the nice guy.  Gil shivered when he remember Walter Gordon calling Nick, ‘your guy’.  He really was ‘his guy’, and Gil had thought that if Nick died, then he would too...  If they’d never found him...    Even after all these years, Gil found it impossible to think about that day without anxiety pains in his chest and they started now.

But what if he was losing Nick now?  He couldn’t bear it.  There was no question about it.  Chicago was a no go.  There was no way he could lose Nick.  Just no way.

Nick stirred in his sleep, he usually did if Gil stared at him, he could sense it.

“Hey Nick...time to get up.”

“Already?”

“’Fraid so.”

Nick stretched his arms out and yawned.

“Nick?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m not going to Chicago.”

“Oh?  Why not?”

Ha, Gil thought, a trick question, be careful how you answer it.  “Because I couldn’t possibly risk losing you, I love you too much.  And no job, whatever and wherever it is, is worth the risk of losing you.”  He hoped it was enough.

Nick was quite surprised at Gil’s complete reversal of his decision.  “That’s it?  Why couldn’t you say that before we went to bed?”

“I don’t know.  Pig headed stubbornness?”

“Right.  Are you saying it now so I’ll relent and say ‘go, you have my blessing’?”

“No.  I’m not.  I thought while I was watching you sleep that I can’t risk your loss, I can’t and won’t do that.”

“’K.”

Nick hadn’t forgiven him, Gil knew that, so he decided on a strategic withdrawal.  “What do you want to eat?”

“Steak.”

Now that was unusual.

“Steak and...?”

“Eggs, over easy, with grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms and onions and a baked potato with...mayo.”

“Very specific.  I’ll have to microwave the potato but I can finish it in the oven.  I’d better get started.”

“Yeah, you’d better.”

Gil left Nick to get up and shower, his food request was very unusual and Gil took it as some kind of test.  But if he wanted steak, he’d get steak; Nick knew they were two in the refrigerator.

On his way back to the kitchen Gil stopped at the phone in the den and found the number of Gary Forbes, the department head in Chicago.  He only had the one number and he guessed that it’d be on an answer phone.

It was, but he left a short message about unforeseen circumstances, and his abject apologies but he would not be able to go to Chicago.  He sighed, heavily, and then went to the kitchen to start the mammoth meal for Nick.  He was pretty certain that most of it would go to waste.  Neither of them could eat a huge meal when they first got up.

Twenty minutes later everything was well under way when Nick appeared.  “Smells good.”

“Yes, I think it’s awakening my taste buds.”

Nick helped himself to a coffee.

“No work out?”

“No...gonna shovel that food down and regret it all shift.”

“You probably will...do you still want it all?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be less than ten minutes, I’ve put the potatoes in the oven to crisp up, and as you can see the steak is ready to go.  Now.”

He laid the two steaks in the hot pan and they sizzled and spat at Gil pushed then around.  It was an odd occurrence; Nick was the established ‘steak’ man, and he almost always barbequed them.  Of course the knack was knowing when to turn then and when to put then on the plate...both liked their steak medium rare.  As Gil oversaw the steaks, Nick watched him and wondered how long it would be before Gil started resenting him...how long before the accusations started.

They’d never been in this situation before and if Nick was completely honest, he’d never expected Gil to cave so easily.  It wasn’t the going to Chicago that hurt, although he wasn’t happy about the eight weeks apart...or even longer.  It was only that Gil had never asked him.  Was he being petty?  He didn’t think so.  But would Gil think that when the days turned to weeks and then to months and what if he didn’t get any more work.  It was a fairly remote possibility, but he knew Gil liked to work and the funding collapse of the UNLV project had really disappointed him.

“They’re ready.  At least I think so.  I hope so.”

Nick sat at their breakfast bar and let Gil wait on him.  The meal looked great, all that he’d asked for, and it was well presented.

Gil took his seat and spoke.  “Well?  Go on, taste it, let me hear the worst.”

Nick sliced off a piece of steak and it looked just right.  He put it into his mouth and chewed, not giving anything away.

“Well?”

“Hold on, just savouring the moment.  It’s good.  Cooked just as I, we, like it...go one take a bite.”

So Gil did and he was quite impressed.  “Of course, it’s good steak to start with, so as long as you don’t overcook it, it’s going to taste good.”

“Not your cooking then?”  Nick smiled at Gil and Gil’s heart raced and his stomach flipped.  Nick had forgiven him.  He wasn’t going to leave him.  He was surprised at the relief he felt, knowing that.

Nick tucked into his huge meal with gusto and amazed Gil with very nearly finishing the lot.  Gil picked at his and could only manage about half of the meal, and he’d given himself less than Nick. 

He wasn’t naive, he knew things weren’t right between them, but he hoped they could move on now.  Chicago was gone and he would let it go.

“You’d better get your clothes out of that duffel bag and I’ll iron them and re-pack, otherwise you’ll look like a dish rag when you take your first class.”

Gil looked at Nick as if he’d grown two heads.  His coffee cup hovering by his mouth.

“You heard what I said.  I only wanted you to acknowledge that you had done something  thoughtless and should have involved me.  Now that you’ve realised that, you should go.”

Gil was stunned and then he was angry.  He slammed his coffee mug onto the bar and a little slurped over the side.  He got up and left the kitchen.  He stormed out into the living room and then didn’t know where to go...he was furious.  He didn’t really know why, but he was.  He opened the sliding doors to the deck quite violently, although they just slithered unsatisfactorily silent on their tracks, and he went out into the garden.

He felt like shouting, howling at the perceived injustice of it all, and then he felt sick.  He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down heavily.

Nick came out and sat on another chair, but didn’t speak.

“I don’t understand squat, Nick. ”

“It’s quite simple.  We’re a couple; been living together for six years...and I always tell you what I’m going to do, or thinking of doing.  I’m not asking your permission, per se, but I’m letting you know what I’m doing.  Like if I’m thinking about flying out to see the family...I say, ‘I’m thinking about going...’ and you’ll say, ‘that’s good...you do that...’, I’m running it past you, because we’re a couple and you might have something else planned.

“You told me about Chicago, and you’re right I was happy about it and I would have said ‘yeah, do it’, without hesitation.  But you’d already said ‘yes’.  You made a decision to leave me for eight weeks...or even longer, as it turns out, without even considering my thoughts on the matter.  Not only that but you didn’t tell me for a day...you forgot.  Didn’t think it, or more likely, me, was important enough.” 

Nick had explained calmly and Gil did understand...to a certain extent.  But he’d cancelled the job and now Nick was happy for him to go.  That’s what he couldn’t understand.  Was he supposed to realise that Nick would or might change his mind and that he should have waited to cancel just in case?

He now had to chose, to stay or go.  He had Nick’s blessing, but he still felt he was somehow missing a point.

“I phoned up and cancelled the job.”

“Really?  Was anyone there, or did you leave a message?”

“I left a message, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing much, phone back and tell them...whatever you said the reason why you couldn’t go has changed, and now it’s back on.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You must go...I’m not having you moping around here...blaming me.”

He couldn’t say it and he knew Nick knew he couldn’t say it.  I don’t blame you.

He nodded at Nick and went indoors to the den and made the call, saying that the unforeseen circumstances had been resolved and the trip was on again.  He felt idiotic.  He loved Nick and thought he knew him, but this new Nick had just moved the goal posts...

 

They maintained an uneasy truce. 

Neither man spoke directly about their argument or the job.  Nick ironed and repacked Gil’s clothes and sorted out what he should take.  In the end there were two suitcases, the duffel bag and briefcase, but as Nick pointed out, if Gil was properly prepared then the chances of any problems arising in Chicago lessoned.  Gil agreed; he wouldn’t have time to solve minor irritations.

On the Saturday, when Gil had planned to pamper Nick and try and re-establish the status quo, Nick had to work a double shift and by the time he arrived home, he was exhausted and ate a little, slept, showered and then had to go back to work.

Gil’s flight was at 12.40pm on Sunday.  He would have to be there at least an hour and half before then.  It would mean leaving their house at no later than 10.30am and on a good day Nick didn’t get in until around eight in the morning.  And it wasn’t a good day...Nick arrived home at five past ten and Gil had already ordered a cab.

“Hey, I’ve just got time for a quick shower, change of clothes and a bowl of cereal.  Okay?”

“No, it isn’t okay, you’re still beat from yesterday and by the time you get back here you’ll have lost at least a couple of hours.  I've already ordered a cab...it’s due in twenty odd minutes.”

Nick was both relieved and gutted.  

“Then we’ve got just twenty minutes...”

“Yes.”

They stared at one another.  And then started speaking at the same time.

“I love...”

“I’ll miss...”

They smiled at each other and both were aware of the sadness in their smiles.  Gil moved up to Nick and hugged him tightly and his breath caught.

“Jesus, Nick.  I am going to miss you, so much.  I know your answer to that is that it’s my own fault, but I had to do this.  I really had to do it.  You understand?”

Nick nodded into Gil’s shoulder.  He knew that Gil wanted, and maybe even needed to do this work and now as he was held tightly in Gil’s arms, he felt enormous regret for the hurt he’d caused.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

And just then Nick realised that he’d apologised and Gil had accepted it but Gil still hadn’t said those words to him.  It did hurt, because however much Gil wanted and needed to work he should have asked...no...not asked exactly...he should have run it past him.  That’s what he’d said to Gil and as far as he was concerned, it still applied and Gil still hadn’t said he was sorry.  For not...running it past him.

As Nick was held in the comforting hug he remembered that he’d hoped to go up to Zion, this next weekend, but he’d never even had an opportunity to talk about that.  Gil knew it was his long weekend, free from work, and Nick supposed he could actually visit Chicago, but he wasn’t going to mention it, maybe Gil would remember and invite him.

He sighed; he knew Gil wouldn’t invite him; he’d be far too busy for distractions.

“That was a big sigh.  Nick, if I’m not too busy perhaps you could manage to come to Chicago...maybe in about four weeks time, split my time away in two?  What do you say?”

“Yeah...could do.”

“I love you, Nicky.  I don’t want you worrying about me; I’ll be back in no time.  Maybe we could take a vacation?”

“Yeah...maybe.”

“Nick.  Nick?  Look at me.”  Nick pulled back from Gil’s shoulder and looked into the blue eyes he knew and loved.  “The time will fly by, I promise.”

Nick nodded and Gil kissed him.  A sweet and gentle kiss, there was no fierce tongue battle, no fight for dominance.  In the end they broke apart to take some deep breaths and as they did so, a horn honked outside the house.

“The cab’s early...first time in the history of Vegas.”  Gil kissed Nick again and then ran his fingers over Nick’s face as if he needed to be able to remember the feel of Nick when he was away.

The horn sounded again.

“Let’s take the bags out.”  Nick wanted to prolong this forever and finish it now.  He couldn’t decide which one he wanted more.

They carried the bags between them and then Gil told the cab driver to hold on, he had something to do and then they could go...he produced a twenty to sweeten the sour look he’d been given.

Back in the house, Gil once again hugged Nick. “I think it’s probably better to do this here in our home than in the airport.  I want you to have a bowl of cereal, then shower, and then go straight to bed.  You can dream of me, I’ll let you.”  He smiled.  He kissed Nick again and this time it was Nick who touched Gil’s face and let his index finger rest in his dimple.

Gil took Nick’s hand in his and kissed the fingers.  He took a deep breath, turned and left, closing the front door behind him.

When Nick was eating his bowl of cereal a little time later he thought that just a few months ago he’d have been in tears at Gil’s departure.  And here he was dry eyed and if not exactly happy, he was at least glad it was all over...for eight weeks.   

 

Everything went very smoothly from Gil’s point of view.  They met no heavy traffic on the way to McCarran, the check-in was easy, the flight was on time and he exited O’Hare six hours and ten minutes after leaving home, although his watch said it was eight hours and ten minutes.

He gave the taxi driver the address of the Polk Street Hall of Residence.  They had several self contained apartments in the Hall reserved for visitors.  As he arrived and unloaded his bags from the cab and stood looking at the building, he was transported back years in time to the first time he’d left home to attend college.  It was a long time ago.

He was going to pay the driver a twenty to help him get his bags to the room, but a young student, he presumed, came out of the building and said he’d help...if he was Dr Grissom.  He gave Gil a running commentary about the facilities as he carried a suitcase and the duffel bag.  When they arrived at the apartment, Gil realised he had no key, but the student produced one from his pocket.  It turned out he was ‘on duty’.  They all had to take a turn at ‘policing the hall’ every evening, and he’d been told to expect a Dr Grissom.  He also said that they’d stocked his kitchen with some basic foodstuffs...although that was fancy word to describe a space three by three.   He then left.

Gil was stranded in the middle of a fairly large room...there was a desk and computer and empty shelves and bookcases, a sofa and two chairs and a television.  Basic, but clean and airy.   He found a bedroom with a double bed, a closet and the bathroom off it, and then the kitchen.  He smiled; it was at least five by five and had all the basic necessities.

He found a jar of instant coffee and made himself a mug and then set about unpacking.  He was methodical and Nick was neat so everything was out and packed away in half an hour.

He sat down at the computer a little later, some toast for his supper, and fired up the computer.  He accessed his mail and sent a mail to Nick.

‘N

Missing you already! 

The flight was as easy as any I've ever taken.

I have an apartment with one bedroom and a resident computer.  They’ve put some basic foodstuffs in my kitchen, so I’m enjoying toast as I write.  No marmalade though, I must see if I can get some.  There is a cafeteria here in the Hall, so I really have no need to cook, but I think I probably will, if not straightaway, sooner rather than later.  One tends to tire of mass produced foods quite quickly, I remember that well from my college days.

That’s what I remembered when I arrived here.  My first day away from home and my Mom.  And here I am, my first long stay away from you.  I do miss you.  I missed you at McCarran, making sure I had everything and buying me a paper or magazine to read on my journey and some hard candy to suck to help with my ears.

I hope you were able to get a good sleep, you should be awake by now, if not, get up, you’ll be late for work!

I’ll speak to you soon.

All my love. G’

Gil yawned and stretched; he had a meeting at seven thirty in the morning with the Departmental Head, Gary Forbes, and although he was actually on Vegas time, he thought he could go to bed and sleep well.  So that’s what he did.

In Vegas, Nick fared less well.  He was very tired and fell asleep but couldn’t seem to stay asleep.  He slept for a couple of hours then lay awake for an hour and then slept again and woke and then, naturally, when the alarm sounded he was fast asleep.  He didn’t dare lie in bed as it was too tempting to fall back to sleep, so he got up immediately and wandered around wondering what to do.  He should eat a proper meal, otherwise he thought he’d turn into bran flake.

He poked around in the kitchen to see if anything caught his fancy and in the end decided on a lasagne that he’d made and frozen a few weeks ago, and there was some salad stuff in the fridge he could throw together.   But first he decided to do some exercise, get himself moving.

An hour and a half later he’d exercised, showered and eaten.  He was ready for work, but was worried that Gil hadn’t phoned or texted.  He checked his cell several times and the land line...he never switched his computer on.

So he sent a text to Gil.

‘hey just going to work. you arrive ok? n xxx’

The next morning Gil forgot to switch his cell on, since he’d gotten out of the habit since he’d left the lab.

Work for Nick overran again and he didn’t arrive home until early afternoon.  But he did realise that Gil hadn’t responded to his text.  But then Gil had a habit of not switching on his cell, so that was probably the reason.

Work for Gil was staggering.  He quickly realised that he was out of work mode and no matter that he loved his subject, it was still tiring to teach and be alert and one step ahead of his extremely bright students.  He was happy, but exhausted, by the time he’d finished his first two lectures on Monday.

He had to prepare for the next day, so ate a meal in the cafeteria on the way back to his apartment and then studied and made notes until his eyes started to shut...he had to go to bed but was satisfied with his preparation and hoped he could stay awake the next day to actually deliver the lecture.  Without showering, he cleaned his teeth and then climbed into bed.  Just as he was falling asleep, he remembered that he must check his e-mails in the morning to see what Nick had to say.

On Monday night a female journalist was murdered in Las Vegas, Sara and Greg were assigned, initially...but the consequential fallout would affect the whole team.

Catherine was at the end of her tether with Ray.  First, he was implicated in her murder and then he was attacked by her widower.  Ecklie was on Catherine’s back and Catherine tried to be on Ray’s, but it rolled off him, he was determined to see it through.  In the end Ecklie spoke to Ray, which galled Catherine because she’d failed to make an impact...

And yet he still persisted in following his own enquiries because now they were hot on the heels of Dr Jekyll himself.  The journalist had opened a can of worms trying to implicate Ray for the murders. But had she drawn Dr Jekyll out of the shadows?

Although Nick arrived home in good time on Tuesday, he was going to help Ray out, try and see exactly what was going on.  Sara and Greg were going to meet him at Ray’s house.  From what they could actually glean from Ray, he had been doing a great deal of work on the case in his own time, mostly following leads and amassing information, if not actual evidence.

Maybe with all of them being involved they could get a clearer picture, a bit of team work instead of solo work...but it had to be off the clock or Ecklie would be after them.  Nick decided not to tell Catherine, not immediately anyway.

So with his really busy workload and knowing that Gil would be thoroughly immersed in his work, Nick didn’t pay too much attention to Gil’s lax behaviour.  He was still aware that he hadn’t heard from him, but wasn’t that par for the course?  Gil, so intensely focussed on what he was doing, and loved doing, that he forgot the time of day and eventually the actual day itself.  But Nick did think that he could have at least remembered he had a partner.  But then wasn’t that premise, of having an equal partner, the start of all their arguments?  

On Tuesday morning before work Gil did check his e-mails and was surprised that Nick hadn’t responded.  But he supposed that if Nick was really busy, he’d need all his energy for work.  They had been very busy since Gil had left the lab.  Same old story: crime rate going up, budget going down.  And Nick had been promoted so there was more work for him.  Nick was a better leader than he ever was, or Catherine, as far as Gil was concerned.  Gil knew that he was less emotionally invested with the staff and work than he should have been, but the reverse was true of Catherine.  It was Nick who successfully trod the middle ground.

Gil was walking to work, thinking the fresh air and exercise before being cooped up in the classroom would do him good.  Nick would be impressed...and just as he thought about Nick again, he remembered his cell.  He stopped on the sidewalk and checked his pockets.  He knew it wasn’t in any pocket; he’d left it on the desk in his apartment.  He couldn’t even remember when he’d last switched it on...probably in Vegas.  But he would make sure he checked it when he got in from work.

Nick would be too busy to switch on the computer but he would have texted him.  How remiss of him to forget that simple fact.

Nick’s day was very busy following up leads relating to Dr Jekyll, but he found time to join Sara and Greg for a meal at a diner before real work.  He was attacking a chicken salad when his cell buzzed.

A text.  And from Gil, no less.  Two days late, so he didn’t bother looking at it immediately but waited until he was at work and was alone in the locker room.

‘forgot to turn my cell on sorry. having fun here but hard work. are you ok? love and miss you xxx’

So it was exactly as he’d suspected he hadn’t bothered to turn on his cell.  He texted back.

‘v busy work. closing in on jekyll. miss u 2 xxx’

Then Nick and the team were off on the trail again.

Of course, it took them all by surprise.  The journalist’s murder had nothing directly to do with Dr Jekyll.  Her luck ran out when an opportunist drug addict strangled her for her money and belongings.

But the most interesting fact emerged; Dr Jekyll was on their case.  More specifically, Ray’s case.   They all believed he was now following Ray, and Sara, never one to mince her words, said she thought that he was preparing something special for Ray.

As the team discussed what Ray should do about it, carry his gun, get a detail to watch him, Ray’s cell rang.

And Ray took a call from the Dick and Jane serial killer, Nate Haskell, who claimed he knew who Dr Jekyll was.

Nick would remember that call as the defining moment in what happened over the next days...

 

Jim went ape-shit at Catherine and Ray.  Catherine had gone above his head to get the Sheriff to agree to Haskell’s demands.  Nick kept well out of it.  He didn’t like Haskell’s apparent ease at manipulating the LVPD, and especially Ray, into doing what he wanted.  He had serious reservations about the whole escapade, but kept his mouth shut.  Privately, he wondered if even catching Dr Jekyll was worth the huge risk of moving Haskell from jail to the police holding cells in Las Vegas. 

It seemed LVPD was split down the middle, those in favour and those not.   

In the end Jim and Ray interviewed Haskell, but Jim was expelled by Haskell, for being the bad cop...so it seemed he’d got what he wanted...Ray all for himself.  But he started giving up snippets of information...more that Nick had anticipated and although it was all delivered in convoluted messages and for favours...it did appear to be the real deal.

Gradually it all fell into place and Nick thought that they were closing in.  Discovering that the Italian eatery, Venetti’s, had been a haunt of all of the victims of Dr Jekyll was their best discovery in all their investigation.   All they had to do was find someone who worked there who could hopefully link them all them all together and they could find a common denominator.  Dr Jekyll.

With Dr Jekyll’s new clues delivered to, and interpreted by Ray they discovered how the next victim would die and they also realised that they were looking for a high end Italian restaurant.  It was Nick and Ray, and a uniform, Officer Clark, who visited one on the list, the Trattoria DiMasa and found themselves in the congenial company of Papa DiMasa.

And cogs started dropping very neatly into place.

With Ray’s knowledge of how the next torture would be inflicted as they sat with Papa DiMasa it was suddenly blindingly obvious that he was the next victim...and when Catherine phoned Nick to say that the appendix recovered from Higgins was a filial match to whoever prepared the clues for Ray, and that Papa DiMasa had had his appendix removed recently...they knew...

They knew that the elusive doctor was very likely his own son...and in the kitchen getting a good Barolo and three glasses...

Nick sent Officer Clark to his death.  And moments later Nick thought he’d met his own death.

The force of the blast to his left shoulder and upper arm took him off his feet and threw him down onto his back.  He was surprised to find he wasn’t dead.  He was winded and in a moment of clarity knew that he should stay very still and play dead.  Through his hooded eyes he could see his gun just inches away from his right hand...his firing hand. 

He didn’t feel any real pain.  Ray and Dr Jekyll had a verbal exchange and clearly the killer wanted his father dead.  And anyone else who now stood between him and that goal...namely Ray Langston.

Nick needed to try and get Ray’s attention and just a minute later he made eye contact with Ray and indicated with only a slight move of his head and eyes that he could get his gun...given an opportunity.

Ray got it straight away and Nick gave up a silent prayer that they’d spent so much time together that they had a finely tuned knowledge of each other.

Gil.  Gil would be so proud of him.  Nick momentarily thought of Gil, and then determined that no stupid mad fucker would tear him away from the love of his life.  They’d tried more than once but he was resilient and he’d win this battle in the continuing war.

Ray played a good game and gradually drew Dr Jekyll out and at Nick’s minute signal that he was ready, Ray made his move, stood up and Nick grabbed his gun and shot him...shot him...shot him...

When Nick fell back the pain in his shoulder was excruciating and he had a wave of sickness overcome him.  He felt as if someone had set fire to his shoulder and that the flames were burning into him, his muscle, his bone.  He was hazy and only marginally aware of paramedics and half of LVPD mulling around.

He went to the hospital in the back of an ambulance and couldn’t really remember the journey.  His first real memory was of a nurse waking him up to tell him someone wanted to speak to him.  His shoulder was throbbing in time with his heart and it felt stiff and pinned down.

He looked up into the smiling face of Catherine.

“Hey, Nicky.”

“Catherine?  What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you.  Remember what happened.”

He nodded.  He did, but wasn’t it long time ago?  “How long?”

“Have you been here?  About an hour.  They’ve examined you and they’re going to take you to the OR any minute.  You’ve spoken to them about it, and you signed your own forms.”

“I have?”  He was surprised; but then in the back of his mind he remembered being asked if he understood something and he’d agreed, but had no idea what he’d agreed to...must have been that.

The nurse smiled and spoke up. “Mr Stokes has had a substantial dose of morphine for his pain and with the lucky ones this is the result.  Happy oblivion.”

He looked at the nurse.  Happy?  Oblivion?  Then in slow motion he realised what she meant and smiled.  He was drugged up to his eyeballs.  He could live with that.

Catherine bought his focus back to her.  “Nick, I’m going to your house to get Gil, I thought it would be better than a phone call...after...well, after what happened before.”

Nick nodded but had absolutely no idea what she meant.  Then he frowned.

“He’s not there.  He’s...teaching a class in...University of...somewhere...”

“I’ll have to phone him then; can you remember where he is?  Think Nicky.”

“Mmmm...it’s okay, I’ll text him tomorrow.”  Nick seemed to have gained access to his thoughts and spoke up almost confidently.  “He’s in Chicago.  I’ll text him and then he’ll know I’m okay.  You know...”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  He’ll worry if it’s anyone but me.”

“I think you’re right.  Looks like they’re here to take you to the OR.”

“Catherine?”  Nick held onto her arm with his right hand and noticed he had a drip attached to the back of it.

“Yes?”

“Is he...dead?”

She knew immediately what he was asking.  She nodded.  “You saved Ray’s life and probably his father’s too.”

“The uniform...Officer Clark?”

“Yeah.  He didn’t stand a chance.”  She sighed.

“No.  Thanks, Catherine.”

“See you soon, Nicky.”  She leaned over him and kissed his forehead and he smiled.  His Momma used to do that.

The very next thing he remembered was the bright light nearly burning his eyes out of their sockets and trying to move his arms up to shield his eyes.

“Keep still, Nick.  You’ve had your operation and you’re in recovery.  Everything went just fine; you’re going to be okay.  Your left arm is immobilised in a sling so you can’t move it.  Keep your right arm still.”

He would have spoken, except it appeared his mouth was full of cotton wool balls; he would have told her to turn the fucking lights off.

The next thing he remembered he was in a hospital room and Sara and Greg were talking quietly while sitting by his bed.

He wanted to say, ‘Hey’, but wasn’t absolutely sure what came out of his mouth but they both looked at him and smiled, so he’d said something.

“Look whose back with us.”  Sara smiled and patted his hand.

“I’m so thirsty.”  He croaked.

“Here.”  Sara took a beaker, with a straw, from the bedside cabinet and held it for Nick to take a sip.  He was trying to take more than the straw would left him and started spluttering.  “Do it slowly.”  He tried again and this time managed to get some water into his mouth and down his throat.

Greg stood up and pointed to the door.  “I’ll get the nurse.”

And for the next, however long, Nick was subjected to checks and questions.  But he established for himself that his pain was tolerable, although his ass was very sore.  And felt as if it was padded.  He couldn’t remember doing anything to it...and he didn’t think to mention it to the nurse. 

Sara and Greg eventually came back in and chatted about the most inconsequential things they could think off...and Nick fell asleep.

Then the nurse was waking him up and there was a doctor present.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay.  Tired.”

“Normal.  Sleep as much as you want the rest will do you good and aid your recovery after trauma.  What about pain?  One to ten?”

“Five?  No, four.”

“That’s good.  We’re giving you a steady supply of morphine for pain relief.  Not a high dose, so if you do need more tell a nurse and we can up that.  The op was fairly straightforward.  With GSWs the important thing is the debridement of the wound, make sure we remove all the dead tissue; it then reduces the chance of infection.  As a bonus we’re also giving you antibiotics.

“Now we did face a dilemma about the skin on your shoulder.  The shot didn’t do any major damage internally; muscle tears that we’ve repaired.  But we had to take a piece of your skin away that was fairly badly damaged...repairing it wasn’t an option, so we removed it.  We could have drawn it closed but it would have been tight.   So we did a bit of a fancy repair job...I’m quite proud of my work actually.”  The doctor grinned at Nick’s perplexed face.

“Tell me, is your ass sore?”

“Yeah, it is.”

The doctor laughed.  “I sliced a top layer of skin off to make a skin graft for your shoulder. The harvest site is invariably very sore after such a procedure, but it will soon wear off.   I stitched the graft in place but you’ll have to be very careful for a few days to make sure it takes.  Normally I would discharge you tomorrow, or even today, but I would like to keep you in for a couple of days, just to make sure it takes.  Keep you as still as we can and keep the dressing in situ.  Any questions?”

“I can’t think of any.”

“Well if you do, let me know.  But as far as I’m concerned, we’ve done a good job and you’ll be back to normal in no time.  Okay?”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

He was on his own again and settled as best he could with his sore ass...and then remembered Gil.  There was no way he could tell Gil he’d been shot and was in hospital, Gil would leave Chicago and come back immediately and he needed to do his work there.  Nick knew it was important to him and really began to think that maybe he’d been too harsh on Gil...but he fell asleep again before he could think about it any more.  

 

Gil was engrossed in his work in Chicago and though tired, both mentally and physically, he knew he was doing a good job.  In just the few days he’d been there he developed a good working relationship with his faculty colleagues, and his students seemed attentive.

He’d remembered to take his cell with him wherever he went but still forgot to switch it on.  He read Nick’s message on Wednesday evening and texted back.

‘pleased about jekyll. how are things going? i’m working hard and am v tired but enjoying it. missing you want to hear your voice. will phone g xxx’

On Thursday evening he’d not had a reply to his text, so he did phone the cell, it went straight to voicemail and he left a short message, declaring his love.  He then phoned their land line at home.  That too went to voicemail and he left a similar message.

He sent a text.  ‘tried to speak to you will phone again g xxx’

Gil had no response from his messages or from his text.  But guessed that Nick would be very busy if the hunt for Dr Jekyll was on.

On Friday evening he had to go out for drinks with some faculty members.  He didn’t want to go, but felt it would be churlish to refuse when they had made him so welcome.  When he arrived back at his apartment he was so tired he could hardly see.  Teaching, preparing lectures, checking work and then going out; he didn’t even clean his teeth, but dropped his clothes where he took them off and climbed into bed.

On Saturday morning he woke in a panic and was blindly reaching for Nick, before he realised where he was.  He felt uneasy and had immediately put it down to one drink too many the previous evening coupled with the Chinese food they’d all eaten.  His mouth was so disgusting he actually grimaced as he became aware of it...his first task was cleaning his teeth, flossing them and then cleaning them again, all before taking a piss.

Then he retrieved his cell.  There was no text and no voice message.  He didn’t want to phone him as he could be in bed and if he’d been working over he’d need his sleep.  He sent a text.

‘promise to leave cell on please call me love you g xxx’

Gil tidied his place up and used the laundry, then went to get some groceries.  And after the chores were done he decided that he would stay in all weekend and prepare his notes for next week, but also rest up.  He thought that in the months he’d been at home, he’d become seriously accustomed to an easier life and having to work hard had been a shock to his system, but he reckoned that a good rest over the weekend would restore his equilibrium and he’d feel much better next week.

About two in the afternoon, he realised that he hadn’t spoken to Nick in over a week...since they’d been together it was the longest he’d gone without hearing his voice.  The realisation hit him almost physically, just how much he was missing Nick.  He’d like to tell him about the students and about the staff and about...everything.

Gil became increasingly uneasy.  Why hadn’t Nick texted him more?  Why hadn’t Nick called him? He remembered his e-mail and checked his computer...there’d been no response from Nick.  Gil was worried now.  He wanted to speak to Nick. He needed to speak to Nick.

He waited until six to phone Nick’s cell and the land line again.  No reply.

He made himself a pasta dish but sat staring at it.  And then he remembered and was angry with himself...it was Nick’s long weekend off work.  But then he still should have contacted Gil.

That’s when he had the next thought.  Punishment.  That’s what it was.  Nick was punishing him for leaving.  Perhaps Nick had expected Gil to cancel Chicago altogether and it was a test.  Was Nick that duplicitous?  He didn’t think so.  But then why wasn’t Nick getting in touch?  Perhaps he’d gone hiking and was out of contact.  Some areas around Vegas were notorious for lack of signals.

Maybe it was the Jekyll case and his time off had been cancelled.

No: Gil decided that Nick was doing it on purpose, making him suffer for taking the job without running it past him.  Well two could play at that game.

Despite his need for sleep, Gil was angry when he went to bed and couldn’t sleep. After a couple of hours he got up and made himself a glass of hot milk.  He remembered how much Nick hated it...and peanut butter.

He decided to text Nick again.

‘missing you so much please get in touch I love you nick g xxx’

After his milk and the text he went back to bed and slept.  His rest on Sunday was severely disputed by a fire alarm and evacuation lasting three hours.  There was actually a small fire in an electrical box.  So electricity was disrupted too.  It was five o’clock before everything was normal. 

Gil hadn’t heard from Nick and was pissed.

At eight o’clock he decided to phone the lab and speak to someone...even if Nick wasn’t there he could find out what they knew about his whereabouts.  If Nick was going to be embarrassed by him calling, so what, he’d brought it on himself.

He’d phone Catherine.

 

Catherine was tired and stressed.  She couldn’t remember ever being this stressed in her life, not even with Eddie, and as she sat at her desk she asked herself if it was all worth it.

Warrick was murdered last year and now Nick had been shot, though thankfully it looked like he’d make a full recovery, but Ray?  The severe blood loss from his severed renal artery had caused hypovolemic shock and he was in a coma following surgery to remove his damaged left kidney.  Why he got close enough for Haskell to do such damage was beyond Catherine.

But Gil Grissom was causing her some concern.  How the hell he could leave Nick all alone knowing he’d been shot and could have been killed.  What Nick saw in the cold hearted bastard she did not know.  Her eyes had been well and truly opened by his appalling behaviour.

And Nick defended him.  ‘He’s very busy, Catherine.’  ‘He can’t just leave the work at the University, Catherine.’  ‘He has responsibilities, Catherine.’

Too damn right he had responsibilities.  Nick.

Her desk phone rang making her jump out of her reverie.  She reluctantly picked up the receiver.

“Catherine?”

The man himself.  “Gil Grissom.  Well you’re a piece of work, and that’s for sure.”

“I beg your pardon?”  Gil was taken aback at her abrupt manner.

“What do you want me to do, look after Nicky when he’s discharged from the hospital, save you the bother of coming back to Vegas?”

Gil was silent.

For a few moments Catherine waited for a response and when Gil didn’t she speak she spoke to him, irritably.  “You still there?”

“Hosp...  Nick’s in...  Nick’s in...”

It was immediately clear to Catherine that Gil didn’t know that Nick was in the hospital.  “God, Gil.  You don’t know do you?  Nicky said he told you...”  She thought for a few moments.  Had he said that exactly or had she construed that from what Nick had said?  “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew.  He’s kept if from you.  Trying to protect you, I suppose.”

“What’s wrong Catherine, why is he...”  To Catherine, Gil sounded utterly defeated and she suddenly thought she’d better break the news to him gently.

“Well he’s better now and he’s being discharged in the morning...but, well are you sitting down Gil, you need to be sitting down.”

“Fucking tell me, Catherine.”  She felt his anger though the phone line.

“He was shot...Dr Jek...”

“Christ Almighty.  What injuries?  How is he?  How did it...”  The questions tumbled out of Gil.

“Gil.  Stop.  Listen.”

She heard him taking some deep breaths.  “Okay.”

“He had a shotgun injury to his left shoulder; it missed all major blood vessels and bones, but slightly damaged his muscles, and ripped a portion of his skin away.  They kept him a couple of days extra because they took some skin from his ass for a graft.  He’s going to be great, Gil, you know Nick...”  Catherine paused to screw her eyes up at her inadvertent remark.  Did he know Nick?  “He’s complaining his ass hurts more than his shoulder.”

“Which hospital?”

“Desert Palm.  Gil, there’s something else.”

“More?”  Gil sounded desperate.

“For Nicky, maybe.  He shot and killed Jekyll.  He’s never killed anyone before and I think he’s more...well...more aware of that than anything else.”

“Dear God, Catherine.  I’m coming back.”  Gil ended the call before Catherine could say another word and she held the receiver in her hand and stared at it.  Well if he didn’t know before, he knew now.  Her decision, made there and then, was not to tell Nick about this phone call.  Leave them to duke it out themselves since it sounded as if there was something not quite right with the happy couple.

Gil had sat down on the chair at his desk when Catherine had asked him to sit.  Now he sat there absorbing the information, he felt sick.  Nick had been shot.  Nick had been shot.  Warrick had been shot.

But then Gil was paralysed with the knowledge that Nick hadn’t wanted him to know.  The man he loved so very much hadn’t wanted him to know.  Why?  Why?  All he could think about was that.  Why?

He ran his hands over his face.  He seemed to have stalled.  What did he need to do?  Go home.  That’s what he needed to do.  Flight.

He accessed the flight information and the next flight out of O’Hare to Vegas was at five-fifteen the next morning, he’d have to change at Phoenix and wait an hour, but he’d get to Vegas before nine tomorrow morning, given the two hour time difference, and without bags he could be with Nick before ten, he booked the flight and printed off the e-ticket...he looked at his watch, it would be about fourteen hours before he could see Nick.

He had Gary Forbes, the department head’s, home phone number somewhere...he searched his note book, found it and dialled the number.  There was no reply and it went to messaging.  He left a message for Gary stating that his partner had been seriously injured and that he must return to Las Vegas immediately; he’d phone him tomorrow with further information.

He was sorry.  He was sorry for everything.   What must Nick be going through, alone, while he was satisfying his own needs two thousand miles away, with so little thought of his lover?  His partner.  He knew, in that instant, exactly what Nick had meant about their partnership, and how he had failed to ever consider Nick’s needs.

Gil packed up his work and decided to take a shower and then try to sleep.  He knew he wouldn’t.  He didn’t; so he got up and after clearing out the perishable food from the fridge and packing his laptop away he took another shower and chose some comfortable clothes to fly in, dressed, locked up and went down to the reception area.  He knew there were taxi-cab cards pinned to the notice board.  He called for a cab and then waited.

His flight would be open at three-fifteen and he was at O’Hare before two o’clock.  He couldn’t settle and paced around and eventually was able to wait by the gate for the flight.

He sat down and started thinking about his life with Nick.  His Nick.  His handsome Texan.  He’d rather embarrassingly had the hots for him the moment he’d set eyes on him.  Hot and sexy with an ass to die for...not to mention his liquid brown eyes and his dimples.  Jesus, those first weeks he’d been Gil’s walking wet dream.

In the early days, Gil had been his teacher and mentor and as endearing, and hot, as he was, he could be incredibly dense about work and made such errors of judgement that on occasion Gil could have had him fired.  Or fucked him.  Or both.  He did get better and then things changed when Gil was promoted, temporarily they said. 

But one day, it clicked, it seemed that Nick found his balls and called Gil out and he turned his CSI life around.  Gil was so turned on that he very nearly slept with Sara just to pretend it was Nick.  Bad idea and luckily not followed through.

When Catherine took over Nick’s and Warrick’s supervision, Gil dithered for weeks whether or not to make a play for him.  His gaydar had never been particularly reliable but there was a certain something about Nick that gave out vibes.

Had he accidentally or knowingly drunk too much at Catherine’s that day?  Probably accidentally.  Because he couldn’t have been sure that it would be Nick who would offer to take him home.  But he had drunk more because of Nick, to try and blot him out.  Now it was funny.  Then it was a living nightmare of teenage hormones in a middle-aged man. 

The drink gave him some bravado and his immortal line, that Nick used to remind him of constantly, as a euphemism for sex, but not any more, ‘you’re gonna have to help me get the key into the lock.’  And ‘yes’, he’d giggled like a drunken hormonal teenager.  But then so did Nick and then it was fighting for sexual dominance just inside his front door.

So many silly memories and yet they made their lives so happy and memorable...  Where did it all go wrong?

Gil suddenly noticed that the area was full of people and a check with his watch confirmed that passengers would be embarking very soon.  As if on cue the steward started calling people forward.  In forty minutes they were waiting for a slot and seventeen minutes late, they took off.  Gil was aware and calculating the times...seventeen minutes ate into the fifty four minutes he would have to wait at Phoenix.   He must catch the connecting flight.

The drone of the aircraft eventually lulled him to sleep, fitfully, but not before he decided what he was going to say to Nick later that morning.

First, he would tell Nick just how much he loved him and apologise to him.  Second, he would shout at him for not telling him he’d been shot.  Third, he’d then have to apologise some more. 

 

Gil caught a cab directly from McCarran to Desert Palm hospital.  At the hospital’s main reception he was given Nick’s room number and made his way to the room.  His mouth was dry and his palms clammy.  His heart was pounding in his chest, its usually slow and controlled rhythm forgotten.

When he arrived at the room, he could see through the small glass panel in the door that Nick was sitting on the bed, facing away from him and dressed in a hospital gown; Greg was talking to him.

He didn’t knock, he walked straight in.

Greg saw him and went to speak but Gil held his hand up and spoke first.

“Greg...please?”

“Oh, yeah.  Okay.  I guess you got a ride home now.  See ya.”  Greg patted Nick’s good shoulder, nodded at Gil and left.

Gil dropped his briefcase where he stood and then walked across to stand in front of Nick who looked pale and somehow fragile in the hospital gown.  His left shoulder was heavily bandaged and his arm in a sling.

“I’m sorry.”  This was Nick.

“No, no, no, no.  You have nothing to be sorry about.  It was all me, all my fault.  I see that now...”

“...I killed a man.”

“I know.”

Gil stepped forward and put his left arm around Nick’s right shoulder and then put his right hand on the back of Nick’s head pulling him towards him making damn sure to avoid his left shoulder.  Nick’s head rested on Gil’s right shoulder and Gil smoothed his hair.

Tears ran down Gil’s face and wet Nick’s gown.

“He was a bad guy and probably got what he deserved, if you hadn’t killed him, the likelihood is he would have killed you.  You’re the better man, Nick.  But, we’ll work through it together.  I love you so much, Nick, always have and always will.”  He kissed Nick’s hair.

Nick nodded in his shoulder. “Love you back, babe.  I am sorry, I knew I should have got in touch, but when I didn’t straight away, I got a bit scared you’d be annoyed.”

“I am annoyed...actually more like fucking furious, but not at you, sweetheart.  At me.  What an asshole I've been...”

”...I’ve been just as bad accusing you of treating my like a juvenile when I’ve been acting like one, is it any wonder...”

“...stop!  Now!  I’m taking the blame, Nick, because it is my fault.  The only thing you’ve done is let me get away with it for so long...but I can see that’s my fault as well, riding roughshod over you...anyway we’ve got time to sort it all out.  Let’s get you mended first...when are they discharging you?”

“Now.  Greg came to take me home and we’d just realised my shirt and tee were taken away as evidence.”

“Have you got everything else?”

“Yeah.  Have you heard about Ray?”

“Heard what?”  Gil was surprised at Nick’s sudden change of subject

“He was stabbed; he’s here in the Intensive Therapy Unit.  In a coma.”

“Jekyll stabbed him?”

“No, Nate Haskell.”

“Nate...the Dick and Jane killer?  How on earth?  What’s been going on, Nick?”

“It’s all so complicated.  Haskell knew who Jekyll was and in return for information he wanted some favours.  So LVPD played ball with him and Ray was the negotiator.   When he went to tell Haskell that Jekyll was dead, Haskell used the arm of his spectacles to stab Ray...he penetrated the renal artery...he had so much blood loss he died at the scene and had to resuscitated.  Now he’s in a coma, and he’s lost a kidney.”

Gil was aghast.  “How did Haskell get close enough, unsupervised, to stab anyone?  Just what’s been going on?”

“Jim can probably tell you more about that.  I kept my distance but there was a load of grief between Jim with Catherine; she went over his head to get Haskell bought to LVPD.  Haskell would only speak to Ray.  I sent an officer to his death.”

“What?”  Gil felt the blood drain out of his face, but also confused by Nick’s non sequitor conversation.  “What do you mean, Nick.”

“When I realised it was the killer in the kitchen of the restaurant, I sent the uniform to check him out...he was shot straight away, didn’t stand a chance...”

“...you didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“No, but I might have guessed...we’d virtually identified him there and then as the killer.”

“It sounds as if this all happened in just a few seconds, Nick.  You weren’t to know, anymore than the Officer, or Ray.  You were shot anyway and could have been killed...”  Gil stopped at the enormity of his words and went quite light headed and swayed a little.

“Hey, you okay?”  Nick stood and put his available hand on Gil’s shoulder.

“I was in fucking Chicago, when I should have been here with you.  I am so fucking sorry, Nick.  I’ll never be able to make it up to you.”

“It would still have happened, there was nothing you could have done.”

“I would have been here with you from the beginning.”

“Bored out of your brain sitting by my bed.”

“We’re doing it again.  Me saying this and that and you calming me down when I’m supposed to be supporting you.  Did I ever think that I had the stronger personality of the two of us?  I was completely wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t know...”  But Nick managed a little smile.  “I know, I really know that it was not my fault, but it’s such a shame.  He’d only been with the PD for eighteen months; got a girl he was going to marry, Mom and Dad, just an ordinary guy who I put in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know.”  Nick sighed and then changed the subject again.  “What were you going to say about my clothes?”  

“Well I've got a tee on under my shirt; it’ll be warm enough outside for you to wear just that, and baggy enough to be comfortable over your shoulder...what do you think?”

“Good idea.  Be good to wear something of yours, smell you against my skin.”

 Gil gently stroked Nick’s face with his fingertips, much as he had the last time he’d seen him, and then stood back from Nick, took off his jacket and started undoing his shirt, but stopped as he looked at Nick’s pale face.  “I must have been crazy to leave you, will you forgive me?”

“Yeah, I already did.”  He held out his right arm and Gil moved forward again and kissed Nick’s lips, dryer than usual but warm and sensual.  Nick pulled back.  “You forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive, except for not telling me about this.” He nodded at Nick’s shoulder.  “Are you in pain?”

“No, not really, it just feels heavy, like it’s weighed down, and sore.  My ass, now man that’s something else...”

“I've always said that.”

“No, it’s where they took the skin for a graft...”

“Catherine told me.”

“Catherine?  She called you?”

“No, I called her because I hadn’t heard from you...I thought you’d gone hiking or something and were out of contact...I thought you were punishing me.”

Nick sat back down on the bed.  “I think I was at first.  I told you I was juven...”

“I deserved it; I really did.  But things are going to change, I promise.  I think you’re gonna have to kick my butt , but first let me get you home so I can look after you.”

“You’ve got to get back to Chicago.”

“I’m not going back.”

“You’ve got to go back, you’ve told them you’ll do the work.”

“That was before I realised how badly I’ve been treating you.  I’m staying with you now.”

“You’ve got to go back.”

“No, I haven’t.  I have to look after you.”

“Hold on a minute.  You’ve just said you’ve being riding roughshod over me...and what are you doing now?  Not taking my views into account again.”

“This is entirely different...”

“...no, it isn’t.  Your original decision was flawed, I’ll give you that, but you said you’d do the job and you shouldn’t renege on a commitment.”

“Nick.”

“That sounded like whining.  I could always recuperate in Chicago, couldn’t I?”

“You’ve just been shot and had an anaesthetic so you shouldn’t fly.”

“I’ll ask the doc.”  He got up from the bed and rang his call button.

Gil stared almost helplessly at Nick and luckily for him the nurse arrived very promptly.  “What can I do for you, Nick?”

“Could you please ask the doctor if it would be okay for me to fly, short haul, tomorrow?”

“Don’t know about that, but he’s out there now, I’ll ask him to come and see you.”

“Thanks.”  Nick spoke to the nurse as she left.  “We’ll see what he says, you could always fly and I could go by train.  I've never been to Chicago.”

“I’m saying nothing.”  Gil held up his hands in defeat.

Nick stood in front of Gil and ran the tip of his finger along Gil’s dimple.  “I thought you’d start to grow a beard again.  I missed you.”  He leaned forward and their lips met just as the doctor opened the door.

“Whoa.  Sorry.  I thought you wanted to know about flying.”

“Yes, I did.  This is my partner, Gil Grissom, he’s working in Chicago.  Could I fly out with him tomorrow, and rest up there?”

“Well let me see.  Healthy.  Not in a high risk category.  If you take precautions...wear flight socks and try and exercise as much as you can while in flight and I’ll give you a ‘script for Aspirin.  Take a low dose today, tomorrow and Wednesday and when you fly back, and make sure to go and have you dressing and wound checked.

“I’m staying on the University of Chicago campus, the hospital’s within easy walking distance.” Gil added the snippet of information.

“Good.  I’ll leave the ‘script with your discharge papers.”

“Thanks Doc.  And for patching me up.”

“At least I now know why you had such a nice toned ass, hope I haven’t spoiled any fun for you guys.”  He laughed at their expressions and left.

But then Nick looked worried.  “I hope he hasn’t either.”

“You’re okay, that’s the most important thing.”

“Are you saying you’re not bothered about my ass?”

“I’m not saying that at all, you know how much I love your ass.”

“I’m not kidding when I say it hurts more than my shoulder; it does.”

“I could rub something soothing into it.”

“It’s got a bandage on it and it’s at risk from infection...I’m on antibiotics for my shoulder and my ass, and painkillers.  Never taken so many pills.  And now aspirin.  You need to book the flights. ”

“I’ve got to get you home first.  We’ll need a cab.”

“Greg was going to take me home.  I’ll call him back.”

“Will he come back just for that?”

“Yeah...I’m his supervisor.”  Gil raised his eyebrows at Nick’s comment.  “I don’t let him get away with anything...I’m the boss.”

“I see.  I never really stood a chance did I?”

“No.  I was gonna get you to change, one way or another.”

Gil laughed.  He would never be able to put into words just how much he loved this man.

 

Sitting in the back of Greg’s SUV was certainly more comfortable than a cab would have been.   Greg was strangely quiet which Nick considered a bonus; he didn’t want to listen to Greg’s stream of nervous consciousness that was his normal Grissom reaction.  After all these years Nick felt that Greg was still intimidated by his lover.

At home, alone, they sat on the deck and drank tea and soaked in the warmth of the sun and the relative quiet of their yard.

“You’d better book the flights.”

“Yes...and you’d better take an aspirin but before we do anything I’d better phone Chicago and see if I still have a job to go back to.”

“You’ll be okay, you’re too good to let go that easily.  What did you tell them anyway?”

“As much as I knew...my partner, my lover, had been shot...”

“Your lover?”  Nick chuckled.

“I might not have said, lover.” Gil chuckled back.

 “Go phone them...now.”

“Okay. Okay.“

Gil found his note book and dialled Gary’s number.  They spoke and Gil apologised for all the drama, and explained what had happened.  He said that if he could get flights back tomorrow, he’d be able to resume teaching on Wednesday...if his services were still needed.

Of course they were, Gary was very relieved that Gil could come back; Gil told him that if he couldn’t get a flight, then he’d phone back, otherwise he’d see him on Wednesday.  It seemed that both men were relieved at the outcome.

Gil was able to get two tickets for the flight that he’d originally taken to Chicago, the twelve-forty American Airlines.  In twenty minutes he’d phoned Gary, booked the flight and printed the e-tickets.  He went back out to Nick who was dozing on the deck.

“All done.  The twelve-forty out of McCarran and they’re happy to have me back.”

“That was easy wasn’t it?”

“It was.  You look all in, sweetheart, do you think you should go to bed.”

“I was thinking I could lie on a sun bed out here but in the shade.  Fresh air and rest, and lying down is easier on my ass.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll get the cushions.  And an aspirin and I think it’s about time for your antibiotic; do you need a pain pill?  What do you want to drink?”

“God, so many questions; I think I do want a painkiller.  I’ll take them with water, please.  Is that it?”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.  Maybe I’ll have something later.”

Gil diligently set about getting the sun bed cushions fixed in place, then retrieved the relevant pills and got Nick a glass of water.   He made sure Nick was comfortable and that his shoulder and sore ass were supported.  He found a thin blanket and covered Nick up with it and then left him to rest, kissing the tip of his nose and then his lips, briefly and gently.

Gil was suddenly aware of just how tired he was, and hungry.  He reverted to Nick’s habit and ate a bowl of cereal and then decided to lie on the other sun bed next to Nick and get some rest himself.

Three hours later he was roused by noises and looked around to see where he was, somewhat disorientated by his strange surroundings, but he was instantly alert when he realised that it was Nick who was making the noises that had woken him.

Nick was breathing heavily and erratically as if he was doing some heavy exertion of some kind and yet he was perfectly still, apart from rapid eye movement.  Gil stood up and went to wake him but Nick started muttering and he was frowning, in his sleep.  He was saying something about Ray and another word that Gil couldn’t make out but was becoming increasingly distressed.  Gil tried to wake him as gently as he could, but Nick still woke up suddenly and shocked, panting for his breath.

Gil kneeled by the sun bed as Nick gasped and held onto his left arm.  “Nightmare...about Officer Clark...I saw him...blood running out of his neck, not pumping, running.  He was already dead.  I don’t think he could have been saved.  Then I managed a couple of shots before I was hit...it was all over in seconds...I bet it was a lot less than a minute.”  Nick lay back, worrying about his nightmare.

“I know what you mean, it’s like it’s happening in slow motion.”

“That’s it; like it’s taking forever to happen but it really isn’t.  I thought of you...”  Nick reached out and touched Gil’s face and Gil covered Nick’s hand with his own as it lay against his cheek.  “...when I was lying on the floor...I wasn’t going to let anyone get between us, certainly not a mad serial killer.”

“And you didn’t.  What you did was avenge the death of Officer Clark and save you own, and Ray’s, life.  An eye for an eye...in biblical terms, it’s not like there was any reasonable doubt.  The guy was guilty.  You know I would never advocate anyone taking the law into their own hands, but what you did was the only thing you could have possibly done in the circumstances.”

“I think I know that, deep down.  But I keep thinking what could I have done differently...could I, we, have avoided the blood shed?  I thought about it over and over again in the hospital and I couldn’t see any other course...in some ways it was lucky it was me...Ray and Greg don’t pack and if they’d been together...”

“Maybe they should reconsider their options.  I didn’t carry a gun for a long time, but, in retrospect it was careless; you just never know what could happen.” Gil shuddered at his own words, knowing full well that Nick had suffered the consequences a number of times now, and each time it could have been fatal.  He pulled Nick’s compliant hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers one by one. 

“No.  I’m hungry now and I bet there’s no food in the house.”

Gil looked shocked as he remembered his cereal...just how old was the milk he’d used?  Although it tasted okay.

“I’ll take a quick shower and get over to the store, we don’t need much.  Think about what you want to eat.”

“Okay.  Hey babe, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know...I thought about you all the time while I was in the hospital.”

“I know you did, because that’s what you do, it’s me who’s forgetful and neglects you.  I want to talk some more about things, us, Nick, but first things first, shower then food.”

“I could eat a steak...not a big one, but a nice juicy steak.”

“Good choice.”  Gil leaned over Nick and kissed him.  “Do you want a drink before I start...you need fluids.”

“A juice...I think there is some.”

“Okay.”

Just over an hour later, Gil was making dinner...and remembered that it was only a week and a few days since he last cooked a steak for Nick.  This meal should be better than the one on that disastrous occasion.

He took the steak and salad out onto the deck and cut up the meal for Nick to be able to eat it more easily.  Nick looked better than he had done earlier, less pale and a good meal would do him the world of good.

“I’ll go and get my stuff to take to Chicago, but you’ll have to pack it.  Do you think you could give me a good wash?  I could stand in the tub and you could wash around my bandages.  They gave me bed washes at the hospital but you never feel really fresh and then...we’ll see...”

Gil knew that glint in his lover’s eyes very well.  “What?  You’ve got something planned?  If you think, for one minute, Nick Stokes, that you’re having sex, think again, you’ve had surgery and I’m not going to risk hurting you.”

“Aw shucks, Gilbert, I’m not such a delicate soul!”

“If that was supposed to be a Southern Belle, it was a failure.”  But Gil was laughing at Nick’s mockery.

“I could be a Southern Beau.”

“Role playing?”

“I could play a hospital patient with a bad shoulder and ass...”

“...that’d be original.  I’ll go tidy the kitchen before we start.”

Twenty minutes later Nick was choosing his clothes for the trip.  He thought he’d be in Chicago for about two weeks, although Gil hadn’t booked his return flight; he’d need to speak to the doctors in Chicago and see what they said about returning to work.  He phoned Catherine to tell her his plans and she was very supportive but wanted to know if everything was okay between him and Gil.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Why didn’t you tell him, Nicky?”

“Because I didn’t want him leaving his work in Chicago when it meant so much to him...but he’s kicked my ass about that, so don’t worry.  We’re solid, Catherine.  Really.”  And when Nick said it he smiled to himself, because he meant it.

“I’m happy for you, Nicky.  See you in a few weeks, don’t rush, you mend properly.”

“I will, I promise.  How’s Ray?”

“The same.  No worse.”

“When he wakes up tell him where I am.”

“If he does...”

“He will.  Wait and see.”

“You’re an optimist.  You take care, see you soon.”

“Bye, Catherine.  Hey, and hang on to Tony, he’s a keeper.”

“Bye, Nicky.”  Nick could hear her laugh as she ended the call.

Nick would swear he was itching all over with the need to be washed clean, or maybe even get a little action.  He wasn’t in the least bothered that Gil had said a quite emphatic, ‘no’...he knew he was irresistible.

 

And then he was naked in the tub, while Gil washed him down with a wash cloth and hot soapy water.  He was so relieved to feel clean and Gil paid special attention to his, as Gil called them, cock and balls.  Funny Gil always said cock and he always said dick...same difference.   His dick was very happy indeed to be cleaned and showed it’s appreciation by standing up and saluting Gil in the face.

“You’ll have to do me now, man, there’s no way you can ignore a man with such an obvious need.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.  Can you ignore me?”  Nick grinned down at Gil as he rinsed off the soapy water, he knew he had him.

“We’ll see.”

“I’ll take that, as a yes.”

Some fifteen minutes later a dry and cosy Nick was lying on their bed, pillows tucked here and there to make sure he was comfortable, but as he pointed out to Gil, it was not his shoulder or ass that wanted to be made comfortable, it was somewhere entirely different.   Since he was gently pumping and twisting his own dick there was no way Gil could miss his inference.

With a resigned sigh Gil, with a dry tee and boxers on after washing Nick, clambered onto the bed beside Nick.  “I’m making one condition, Nick, whether you like it or not.”

“Mmmm.”  Nick was suspicious.

“I’ll blow you if you want...”

“...I want...”  Nick grinned his broadest grin.

“...but you’re not to do anything for me.”

“Gil?”  Nick quite definitely whined.

“I’m a big boy...”   He smirked.  “...I know how to take care of my own business.”

“Did you do it in Chicago?”

“Do it?”  Gil laughed.  “You mean masturbate?  No, too tired and you weren’t there.  What about you here without me?”

“Yeah, a couple of times in the shower before work, but it wasn’t any good without you.”

“I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart.”  And Gil pushed Nick’s hand away from his cock and took over.

He smoothed the skin with his fingers...the velvety softness and inspected the light colour of Nick’s erection in contrast to his own darker skinned penis.  And his pubic hair, almost straight like the hair in his head, and quite sparse, while Gil had a vast bush of curly hair; not quite as white as the hair on is head had become, but still very grey.

As Gil thought about Nick’s fingers running through his curls, his own cock suddenly sprang into life.  It had been subdued until that moment, Gil thought that was because of the worry he felt over Nick’s injuries, but he wouldn’t be mentioning that to Nick.  Nick was right; he obviously wanted this and it would help him relax and sleep and maybe in some way it would be the start of Gil repaying his huge debt to Nick.

Gil’s left hand slipped underneath Nick’s balls and held them; moving them around with his fingers and feeling them tighten as he paid attention to Nick’s erection with his right hand.  He wasn’t using much pressure on the cock, just rubbing it gently and twisting the skin a little around the head, but he could see it was already leaking and Nick had started his customary fidget as he wanted Gil to do more.

“You’d better keep still, young Stokes, or you’ll hurt your ass.”

“Thank you for that, old Grissom.  It’s okay, I've got things going on to keep me occupied.”

“Like this?”  And Gil bent over Nick and took the swollen head of his cock in his mouth, tight and hot and wet as he swirled his tongue around the inch or so that he held in his mouth.

“Yesssss...”  It was obvious that the action met with Nick’s approval.

Gil sucked and licked just the head and used both hands to fondle Nick’s balls. Gently moving them around in their sac and then he slipped a hand beneath and rubbed his thumb along the perineum, using some pressure and then as his fingers reached Nick’s anus he slid his mouth all the way down onto Nick’s cock and his middle finger just breached the muscle but no more than the length of his fingernail.

Unable to stop himself Nick started pumping into Gil’s mouth and Gil relaxed his throat and let Nick slide down it, the discomfort bearable because he knew that Nick couldn’t hold back from the sensation.  He dipped his finger in a little further into Nick’s ass, and while Nick fucked his mouth Gil used his tongue to lick Nick as he thrust in and out and within a minute Nick was coming down his throat and Gil drew back a little to be able to swallow as his mouth was flooded.

“Oh God, you are sooo good, it feels...”  Nick never did say how it felt.  As he slumped back his dick slipping out of Gil’s mouth, he groaned and held onto his left arm with his right hand.

“Is it hurting?”  Gil noticed and was immediately concerned.

“No, not really hurting, just kinda throbbing...along with the rest of me, I think.  What about you?”

“I’m not throbbing, I’m okay; have you forgotten already?”  Gil chuckled.

 “Let me see.”

“Let you see what, my erection?”   It was tenting his boxers, after all.

“Duh!  You doing it.”

Gil laughed and lay back beside Nick.  He pushed his boxers down and exposed his throbbing hard-on, he was ready to explode since it’d had been well over a week since his last ejaculation.

He held it in his right hand and took a deep breath.  “Gonna be quick...”

He fisted it hard and fast and Nick watched, fascinated, this was something that rarely happened since they usually made love together.  Gil was holding his balls tightly with his left hand and Nick could see Gil getting close and excited, his belly contracting and his breathing getting faster and shallow.

“Come on, babe, come for me...”

That was all the encouragement Gil needed as his hand stilled and he spurted copious semen over his hand and belly.

As he and his breathing calmed down he smiled at Nick and pulled his boxers back up over his deflating penis and the mess it had just made.

“Nice.  That was different.  I’m thirsty...and hungry, actually.”

Gil groaned. “I take it you’re getting better?”

“I think I am.”

“Two minutes, I’ll get up.  Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Eighteen minutes later Gil had been persuaded to get up to get the invalid a drink.  Now they lay in bed propped up on pillows holding their mugs of steaming tea.

“Nick, I need to talk to you.  I’ve been thinking about our relationship and how I've behaved in that relationship; in fact I thought of very little else between speaking to Catherine last night and arriving at your room.  Was that only this morning?”  Gil sighed.   

 

“I have repeatedly accused you of being too sensitive or being too critical of me, and yet when I really started thinking about, and I mean really started thinking about it, lots of things suddenly fell into place.  I thought about my life before you, Nick, and I thought about my life with you and do you know, there’s no difference.”

At Nick’s perplexed look, he smiled.  “Wait me out, sweetheart, I’ll get to the point, soon.  Before I was with you I had only myself to think about and look after, I've never lived with anyone before, apart from my Mom, and I’d no terms of reference.  But surely it’s an accepted norm to adjust to your partner; to give a little and take, and talk a little, to compromise over the little things, to discuss the bigger things?  So I asked myself what I'd done with you, Nick.  How had I adjusted, adapted, compromised?  And about half way through the flight back I realised how much of that I've actually done.  Nothing.  I’ve not done a fucking thing.”

Nick opened his mouth to speak but Gil spoke up.

“Hear me out, you’ve defended me enough.   And...you have enabled me all these years.  I went from a bachelor’s existence to a relationship and did nothing to change.  You adapted to me and I blithely accepted it...as my right.

“For the years it’s been going on I thought we had something great together and wasn’t I the good guy for having such a wonderful partnership.  And I suspect, Nick, that the more arrogant I became about us, the more resentful you became about me...I’m very sorry.  I cannot say any more than that about the past, I cannot undo it, but I can promise you, my love, that I am going to be a better partner to you.  I know that if I fail I will gradually lose you and I couldn’t  bear that.  But you’ve got to keep me in line and if I slip up, and the chances are I will, you’ve got to call me on it.  Okay?”

“You finished now?  May I speak?”

“You may.  I’ve said my piece. ”

“And you’re on the money...you’re exactly right, if you ask me.  But I do take half the blame because I thought it was romantic, at first anyway, to let you have your own way.  I'd be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy being the organiser of your plans.  The enabler, as you said, and yes, after a few years it wore thin, but I didn’t speak out and I could’ve done.  Insecurity maybe, I don’t know.  I thought that if I questioned you or rebelled against you then you would tire of me...”

“...never.”

“I think I know that really.  So you’re going to change, are you?”

“I am.”

“It’ll be hard.  I bet you it’ll be a lot harder than you imagine.”

“That may be the case, Nick, but I deserve a little pain and agony, don’t you think?”

“When you put it like that.”

“Are you still hungry?”

“You bet.  Take out?”

“You took the words out of my mouth.  What d’you fancy?”

“Pizza, with everything!”

“I’ll order and then take a shower.  We must get your stuff packed; are you sure you’ve got what you want to take?”

“Yeah, I can always buy stuff if I need anything.”

“Good idea.”

The next morning  they were able to get ready without rushing and when the cab came for them they were waiting.  

It was at McCarran that Nick first noticed it, and then again on the plane and then when there were waiting for a cab at O’Hare.  That’s when he mentioned it.

“Gil, what’s with this...” And he indicated with a flick of his head to Gil’s hand on his shoulder, or more accurately, on his shoulder with his thumb rubbing his neck.  This was not a friendly gesture between men, this was a, he’s mine keep you hands off him, gesture.

At McCarran, Gil had put an arm around his waist.  On the plane he’d held his land or let his hand rest on Nick’s thigh.   If Gil had done this before Nick would have been fine, he had no problem with his sexuality, but never, once, in all their time together had Gil been so overt with his affections.  The most public he’d ever been was maybe a smile in Nick’s direction...on a good day, with the wind blowing wind in the right direction...

“This is me starting as I mean to go on.  We’re a couple and I don’t see why we shouldn’t act like a couple.  It’s about time I did, don’t you think?”  Then a thought struck him.  “Are you uncomfortable with it?”

“No.  No.  Just blindsided, that’s all.”

Gil grinned.  “Get used to it, Nicky.”

“Right.” 

Nick couldn’t help being a little nervous.  This was totally new behaviour from Gil and what if he tired of it?  Would Nick then see it as a failure to change.  He chuckled.  He couldn’t care less, he’d enjoy it while it did last, and if it stopped it didn’t mean Gil didn’t love him any less.  He was trying, he’d have to give him that.

“What are you laughing at?”

“You.”

“I thought so.”  And then Gil leaned towards him and kissed his cheek.

When they’d unpacked Nick’s duffel bag in the apartment Gil insisted they go for a short walk, since Nick needed some exercise to combat the flight being taken so soon after the surgery.  They walked around campus and Gil pointed out where to get to the hospital, as Nick would need to go on his own the following morning to have his bandages changed.  

After half an hour, Nick was half dead on his feet and his shoulder was aching.  Gil felt duly guilty for making him walk, but was exonerated when Nick kissed  him, right there in public, to shut up his apologies.  It still made Nick laugh, even though he’d done the kissing.

The next morning Gil went off to work after helping Nick wash and making their breakfast.  They arranged for Nick to meet him for lunch after having been to the hospital.

The hospital visit went smoothly, Nick showed his insurance and explained what he needed and he was directed to the appropriate trauma unit for follow up.  They liked his surgeon’s work on his shoulder and they gave him a small bottle of bio-oil to rub into his ass twice a day.  Just a few drops gently massaged into the skin and he was assured he would soon have an ass as smooth and scar free as a baby’s...he just had to be careful not to get it on his clothes or he’d have oily backsides on all his pants.

He decided there and then that rubbing the oil in would be job for his lover. 

At lunch time when he turned up to have lunch with Gil, it caused a bit of a stir.  Clearly, no one had thought Gil was gay and that mention of a partner was thought to be a reference to a female partner.  But almost in the blink of an eye, the female members of the faculty became their best friends and the men were polite and somewhat shocked.

The previously only gay lecturer was all over Nick like a rash, but Gil stared at him until he got the message and awkwardly made his excuses and scurried away.  Nick was trying hard not to laugh out loud at Gil’s antics.  But apart from the amusement there was no denying that he was also immensely proud of Gil.  He didn’t have to do this, but plainly he saw that he needed to change at a fundamental level and was prepared to follow through with it.

In those first few days in Chicago Nick thought he may have fallen in love with Gil all over again and couldn’t recall ever feeling such calmness.  But then, in his mind’s eye, he would see Officer Clark lying on the floor, blood already running across the floor from his bloody neck.

Nick told Gil about it and Gil said that he hoped for Nick’s sake it would gradually fade and get better for him.  But he also said that Nick may need professional help to deal with it all, and that was okay too, because Gil would be with him, every step of the way.

And somehow that reassured Nick; it made him feel as if he could deal with the grief he felt for the loss of the young man.  And killing the serial killer did help, because it was justice, after all.  No legal dramas or worry that a loophole would see him go free.  No worry that he’d ever be free to kill again.  It was an eye for an eye.  He had to be interviewed by IA, when he returned to work, but it was surely  a slam dunk case.  Even the murderer’s own father was witness to the horror of Dr Jekyll.

 The vast majority of law enforcement officers never even drew their guns, let alone fired them, and yet Catherine and now he had done just that...and killed.  Catherine had saved Gil’s life and now Nick had saved his own life, and Ray’s, and Papa DiMasa.

Time would heal him.  It had happened before and it may happen again but he was strong enough to face it and deal with it.  And he had his born again lover taking care of him.

 

Despite the work that Gil had to do for his classes he found time to show Nick around Chicago.  They played at being tourists and enjoyed it all, mixing entertainment with knowledge; sport and music and culture, although a visit to an independent theatre company, The Steppenwolf, to see a Samuel Beckett play with some highfalutin TV actor was the absolute limit for Nick as he desperately tried to stay awake while Gil laughed at the absurdity, literally, of the play.

Gil had been less than complimentary about the actor before he saw the performance.  This William Petersen was in a TV show that gave out ridiculously false impressions about the work they actually did.  For the sake of TV expediency they showed DNA analysis taking minutes instead of days and sometime weeks, they saw cases solved in one hour and culprits falling over themselves to confess...Gil couldn’t watch the show, even for fun like the rest of them did, since it sent his blood pressure sky high, especially seeing them pretend to use equipment he’d only ever dreamed about having in the lab in his day.  And all that was before he knew how much money they earned for pretending to do what they actually did...

Gil was magnanimous in admitting that this actor’s stage performance was something else.  Nick could neither agree nor disagree since his desperation to remain awake had obviously been in vain.

But all through their exploration of Chicago Gil held his hand, rubbed his back, slipped his hand around his waist or shoulders.  Touched him, listened to him and smiled at him.  He paid attention to Nick like he’d never done before.  Nick felt loved.  Gil was amazed at just how comfortable it was and he didn’t falter once.  To himself he acknowledged that he was lucky to still have Nick, since it appeared to him that he’d constantly neglected him and it was stupid because Nick was just so easy to love.

The bio-oil also had a side effect.  Gil did indeed gently massage a few drops onto the scar on Nick’s ass.  But virtually every time he did they ended up having sex.  Nick just couldn’t help being sexy and Gil just couldn’t help getting carried away.

On the Sunday nearly two weeks after he’d arrived Nick was due to fly home and go back to work on light duties...all of Catherine’s paper work, she’d gleefully told him...on Monday night.  It seemed Ray was on the road to recovery too and had finally regained consciousness and was due to be discharged from the hospital on Monday too.

But Gil was faltering.  After all the sex.  After all the tourist activity.  After all the work he still had to prepare and all the lectures he still had to give he was about ready to drop.  He slept well but seriously needed a really good rest.  Nick had forbidden him to accompany him to the airport, saying it would be pointless and only prolong the agony of their parting.

So they went to a diner they’d discovered and had a good brunch and arrived back in the apartment to get Nick’s bag and wait for the cab, booked for three in the afternoon.  Nick had plenty of time, he didn’t have to be at the airport until around three-thirty and his flight was direct to Las Vegas at five twenty-five.

His was still supposed to wear his sling when he went out, mostly, the doctor had said, to alert other people not to bump into him, but he was free to leave it off at home.  The graft had taken well, and was healed but was still delicate.  He had started to use the bio-oil on that too, but had to be very careful and very gentle.  Or at least Gil had to, and he had, really not surprising Nick with the tremendous care that he took.  

As they arrived back at the apartment door, Nick pulled the sling off and flexed his arm.

“Feel okay?”

“Yeah, good.   My arm aches a bit but that’ll be the muscular atrophy and as soon as I can exercise properly that’ll disappear.”

“Well with me not being around make sure you don’t overdo it...”

Nick laughed.  “No, Daddy, I won’t!”

Gil snorted but as he moved into the apartment behind Nick, Nick pulled him in and slammed the door shut and dropped down to his knees in front of Gil; all in a whirl of activity that took Gil completely by surprise. 

Through the material of Gil’s pants, Nick mouthed Gil’s penis.  In moments the soft organ was filling out and Nick’s teeth bit into it through the material of the pants and boxers.  He pinned Gil to the door by holding and pushing his thighs against the door.

Gil moaned and bucked his hips into Nick and dropped his hands to his belt and started to undo it.  He looked down at Nick as Nick looked up and he could see the love and merriment shining in Nick liquid chocolate eyes.

“Are you... going to...do me... here?”   Gil had unbuckled his pants but Nick persisted in pressing his mouth and teeth into his hard-on though the material and the pleasure was taking Gil’s breath away.

“Nah, man.  I know you’re in a dilapidated state, you can lie back on the bed and let me do you there.”  Nick sat back on his haunches to give Gil a break.

“I resent dilapidated...I’m merely weary from seeing to my young lover’s every need...by that I mean sex twice a day and every museum in Chicago, at least once, not to mention the Navy Pier last night and a romantic cruise on Lake Michigan, just us...oh, and let me see, at least forty other couples and a busload of kids that had been given way too much sugar and should have been in bed...to see Chicago by night.”

“Well it sounded romantic on the poster.”

“Mmmm...”

“Anyways, quit complaining and get that mighty fine ass of yours on the bed.”

“I might be able to stagger that far, but if I lie down I’ll fall asleep.”

“You think you’ll fall asleep with my dick up your ass?”

 

“Oh.”  That surprised Gil.

“Do you like the idea?”

“Yes, yes I do.” 

Nick was the usual bottom and Gil the usual top in their relationship, but both men were not averse to a little role reversal once in a while.

“Come on then.”  Nick slipped his arm around Gil’s waist and they made the short distance to the bed with Gil holding up his pants.  

Once by the bed Gil let them drop and pushed his boxers down too, releasing his cock. 

“You’ve still got your jacket on.”  The sight of Gil with his pants and underwear around his ankles while still wearing his shoes and socks and a jacket made Nick laugh out loud.  As Gil looked down and saw his erection peeping out from under his shirt tails, he too, saw the funny side of his predicament.

“This always happens when I get an erection with the loss of blood from my brain I lose the simple reasoning powers like remove shoes before pants kind of thing.  Of course, the fact that I have a large cock that takes up a lot of blood doesn’t help.”  He grinned at Nick.

“Not so big that it doesn’t fit very nicely up my ass.  And if my memory serves me right, Dr Grissom, you’ll soon be thinking I’m big enough to fill you.”

Without removing any clothing Gil reached for Nick and kissed him, deliberately falling back and pulling Nick down on top of him.  Then he stopped, suddenly.

“Jesus, your shoulder?”

“It’s fine...did I shout out in pain?  Have I jumped back up to scream in agony?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

“Well then...remove my clothing, I’m too tired.”

“Orders?”

“Yes.”

So Nick leaned over Gil and they kissed some more.  And then he pulled back and pulled off first one shoe and the other and threw them over his shoulder, earning raised eyebrows from Gil.

For his impudence Nick leaned up and caught the head of Gil’s cock in his teeth and Gil hissed at the pleasure as Nick held it quite firmly and wet it by laving around the glans. He then pulled back and the erection bobbed around plainly wanting more.

This time Nick removed Gil’s socks and threw them over his shoulder, but without the satisfying thud the shoes had made.  He pulled off the pants and boxers and they similarly landed in a heap behind Nick.

He moved up and unbuttoned Gil’s shirt and pushed his tee shirt up to kiss his belly.  Softer than it should be but a favourite place of Nick’s...and he kissed and tongued around Gil’s belly button and ignored the cries of help coming from the cock bouncing around just below him.  He pushed the tee up further and bit the nipples one after the other and then licked and sucked them.

“Sit up, babe.”  Nick half pulled Gil up and tugged the jacket and shirt off, tossing them over his shoulder to join the other clothes, and then pulled the tee over Gil’s head.  Gil flopped back down.  He was feeling pretty boneless.

Nick then got off the bed and proceeded to remove all of his clothing and folded each piece and put it on a chair in the corner of the room.

“Excuse me?  You’ve dumped all my clothes all over the room and yours you fold up in a neat pile.  That smacks of OCD, my boy.”

“I think it smacks more of, I've got a plane to catch and all my other stuff is packed.”

“Ah, good point.  It’s the blood in cock versus brain thing again.”  Gil said seriously but his eyes creased up as he tried not to laugh.

“You’ve always got an excuse.”  Nick pounced on Gil and straddled him and bending over him they kissed passionately, their cocks rubbing against each other and their bellies.

“Lie on your belly for me?”  Nick pulled away to ask Gil.

Gil smiled and turned over.  Nick liked to fuck from behind; he liked to lie with his own belly on Gil’s ass...the swell of the ass perfect for Nick to lean on as he thrust into Gil.

Nick positioned himself on his knees between Gil’s legs and then pulled Gil’s ass cheeks apart and bent over and licked him and Gil moaned and thrust into the sheets.

“God... Nick, I’ll come.  I’ll come before you even get in me...”  Gil mumbled quite urgently, his face pressed into a pillow.

“No; you won’t if you value your skin.  Lie still.”  Though Nick’s words were muffled as he went down again to lick and tongue at Gil’s asshole.  This was something that Nick had never done to anyone else; it was his and Gil’s alone.  His fingers dug into the substantial flesh and muscle of Gil’s ass as he prised the ass cheeks apart to gain access.  It was true to say they loved each other’s ass.

Gil was lying nearly still but couldn’t resist pushing his ass up to meet Nick’s tongue.  But Nick’s dick was getting twitchy and wanted in on the action, so Nick retrieved the lube and plastered his dick and Gil’s ass and then pushed two fingers into the tight hole and worked the lube around and scissored his fingers to loosen the muscle. 

“Do it.  Do it.”  Gil mumbled again from within the pillow.

With a slap of the ass that elicited an ‘ow’ from the pillow, Nick positioned his dick and pushed ahead.  Gil pushed back and in one smooth action Nick was balls deep in Gil.  And exactly as he always thought on every occasion he did it, he wondered why he didn’t do it more often.

Hot, tight and slick.  He lay forward onto Gil’s back, both men already hot and slick with a layer of sweat on their bodies although they’d hardly exerted themselves.

Nick loved the feel of Gil’s hot skin against his stomach and chest and he lay with his forehead at the top of Gil’s spine as he gently started rocking back and forth slowly to find a rhythm; he moved his hands up and covered Gil’s hands as the lay above his head. Gil was rocking back into Nick and within just a few moments they were in complete unity

Gil moaned at each push into him and Nick gasped as the pace quickened, soon sweat was dripping off Nick’s brow onto Gil’s back and he pulled his head back to lick at the salty drops and kiss along the bone of Gil’s shoulder blade, and tug at the skin with his teeth.

It was a pace that Nick couldn’t keep for long and Gil couldn’t endure the rocking motion since his own cock was thrusting into the sheet beneath him.  As if on cue Nick started to lose his rhythm and began to pound into Gil’s ass as he passed the point of no return.  His balls contacted and squeezed their load up and through his dick, the pleasure flooding his belly and lower back and up his spine,     igniting his dick even further as he came, grunting out Gil’s name as the ass beneath him slammed up and down and Gil ejaculated beneath him into the sheets.

Nether man could speak.  Nick was breathing heavily and his body moved up and down on Gil’s back with the effort of Gil’s lungs trying to get air into them with Nick’s body weight on his back.

As Nick’s dick softened he moved his ass up and it slid out the tight hole and his body then dropped beside Gil’s and he could here the relief in Gil’s breath sounds as his lungs filled properly with air.  Nick hands ran down Gil’s arm closest to him.  Such strong and capable arms.  If Gil’s belly ran to fat, his arms were pure muscle.  Nick chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“Your arms, so strong.  I love you, babe.  I’m sorry about the whole Chicago fiasco.”

“Hey, what did I tell you?  My fault.  All my fault.”

“Mine as well.”  Nick leaned over and kissed Gil’s shoulder.  “You stay put and sleep, I’m gonna shower.

“Just about now, I’m regretting eating so much.”

You’ll be okay, just relax and rest.”  After another kiss and nibble Nick got up and went to the bathroom to shower, he turned to look at Gil as he went through the door.  Gil was already asleep, relaxed and beautiful.  Nick smiled at him and tears pricked his eyes; he was one hell of a lucky guy to be so loved.  They’d finally arrived on the same page.  Nick was determined that that was where they would stay, together.

He closed the bathroom door to keep the noise down, although he reckoned Gil could sleep the clock round, he was so tired.  Nick was glad Gil wasn’t coming to the airport, it would be real bad saying their goodbyes in public and Gil really needed to stay in bed.

Twenty minutes later he was showered and dressed and the cab wasn’t due for another forty minutes.  He went into the kitchen and made himself a coffee and channel surfed on mute, so as not to disturb his sleeping beauty.

With ten minutes left to make his way to the front of the building for the cab, he went back into Gil and woke him up.  It wasn’t easy; he could hardly drag himself into wakefulness.

“I’m going now babe.”

“Going?  No, wait for me...”

“...no, you stay in bed and rest up.”

“Nick, I love you so much, don’t let’s fall out again.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“God, I think my cock’s sore...rubbing it on the sheet didn’t help...not after rubbing it in you every day. “

“Hold on.”  Nick went to the bathroom and soaked a cloth in cold water and then came back, lifted the bedclothes and proceeded to gently wipe the deflated penis.

“Ow...cold...but soothing.  I think the rest will do my poor overworked cock some good.  I’ve been thinking Nick...”

“...uh-uh...not good.”

“I think it is...you know how I have a fascination with your ass...and have to refrain, in public, from showing that appreciation with a playful slap now and again...”

“...yeah.”  Nick was waiting for something, although he wasn’t quite sure what.

“Well now I can quite legitimately caress your left shoulder and know that I am, in fact, caressing your ass!”

Nick laughed.  “You know what?  I think I've got to concede that point.  Hey, gonna miss you but if you’re still here when I have my next long weekend off, I’ll fly out.”

“I’ll be home.  I don’t think they’ll need me for any longer than the eight weeks, from what I've heard.”

“It doesn’t matter if they do, you just fulfil your obligation.”

“I’ll miss you, sweetheart.”  Gil put his hand on Nick’s cheek and Nick turned his head and kissed and licked Gil’s palm.

“Gotta go.”  He put his head down and gently kissed Gil. “Love you.”

“And I love you.  You take care.  Got your ticket and ID handy?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Cash?

“Yes Sir.”

“Cheeky boy.”

“Boy, Sir?  I suppose, in comparison.”  They both laughed.

“I promise to keep my cell on, and with me at all times, and to keep the battery charged.”

“You do that.  I’ll send texts on my progress, but you sleep now.”

“Okay.  Go.  Now.”

Nick nodded and with one final kiss and a glance back from the doorway he left the bedroom, collected his jacket, bag and sling and left the apartment.

All went to plan and he arrived home having texted Gil at the various stages of his journey.  He hadn’t expected a response and he didn’t get one.  Gil would be sleeping, and resting his weary dick.

He visited his doctor at Desert Palm on Monday, who was very pleased with his handiwork and Nick’s recovery.  But Nick was still confined to light duties until he said otherwise and he wanted to see Nick in another two weeks time.  But he did give Nick the go ahead to start some simple exercises.

At work that night it was just like old times, as if he’d never been away.  People were kind and concerned but not in his face.  He made his way to the briefing room to hear about the night’s work, although his was mapped out for him already with a mile high pile of paperwork, courtesy of Catherine.

He settled into a seat and his own cell vibrated in his pocket.  He took it out to read the text.  It was from Gil.

‘you know i said i was going 2 give my cock a rest? it has other ideas so i’m fisting my hard on now thinking of you. in bed early 2 catch up on sleep. is this text sex? not that good really i need 2 know that youre reading this while im pumping. ru?’

‘Yes.’  Nick texted back and just hoped he wouldn’t have to stand up any time soon. 

A few moments later his cell vibrated again.

‘omg love you’

Nick stared at his cell.  Catherine was just going to ask Nick why he was blushing and smirking.  But Greg beat her to it.

“Are you having phone sex?”

The End

A/N 4: I would like to thank everyone who has read my fic, but an awfully big THANK YOU to those of you who’ve taken the time and energy to comment...you really do make writing, and especially posting, more worthwhile!  Dee x

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