Title: Time, Back and Forth
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: Adult
Warning: Spoilers for Season 5 "King Baby"
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Established relationship. And I have no idea how else to summarize this one.

"Is it just me or our cases getting weirder and weirder?"

Gil puts his book down on the couch next to him. He stretches a little, then folds his arms against his chest and looks at Nick. "Define weird."

"Aw, come on, Gil. A kingpin of Vegas getting his rocks off pretending to be a baby? Forcing a woman to be his ‘babysitter' by taking her child away from her and her continuing to believe that he'll give it back after five whole years? Her giving him an LSD enema and then telling him to take a flying leap? I wouldn't call either of them normal."

"OK. Define normal then."

"Well, me. I'm normal."

Gil's lips quirk. "Really? To quote a number of people out there, who also think of themselves as normal by the way, God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Bruce."

The heat rushes to Nick's face. "They're just bigots," he says angrily.

"Yes, they are. Normal simply means that a large percentage of something falls within norms. With human behavior, who can know what the percentage is and where the norms should really be set? It's all arbitrary, in the eye of the beholder."

Nick looks down at his clasped hands, trying to formulate a calm, intelligent response. Whatever Gil says, the cases are still getting too weird, he thinks stubbornly.

"As is beauty," he hears Gil murmur and his breath catches. He looks up at Gil, into Gil's eyes, and what he sees there makes his heart kick in his chest.

"As is love," Gil continues, his voice soft.

They stare at each other across the room.

Gil sometimes wonders how they got here. He marvels at all the things that had to happen at exactly the right moment for Nick and him to meet. He doesn't believe in fate, but how else to explain their connecting with each other against the odds of different ages, backgrounds and interests? As a poker player, he doesn't believe in luck, either, but now he counts himself lucky.

"Gil," Nick says, his voice slightly chocked. He feels like he's moving in slow motion as he gets up and walks across the room to where Gil is sitting, as he bends over the arm of the couch, one hand braced against the back, the other cupping Gil's face and turning it up toward him in order to kiss him. Gil's been drinking scotch and Nick can taste it on Gil's lips and tongue, sweet and strong.

He straightens up a bit and looks down at Gil. Gil still has his arms crossed and he looks relaxed, almost sleepy, his lids heavy over his eyes. Nick traces the small scar over Gil's left eyebrow and Gil closes his eyes, his face still upturned, his lips slightly parted and moist from Nick's. Nick kisses him again. "I love you," he whispers against Gil's mouth. "I love you."

Nick never takes his relationship with Gil for granted. He can never get over a slight sense of surprise that Gil chooses to be with him and he worries that one wrong move on his part could bring it all to an end. He doesn't know why he feels this way, because over the years Gil has made it obvious that he's not going to walk away.

Gil hears Nick's words, he breathes them in. He raises his hands to cup Nick's face, feels the roughness of Nick's unshaven cheeks against his fingertips. He licks Nick's lips, then his tongue moves inside Nick's mouth. Nick groans, a rush of hot air that Gil inhales.

Gil twists around to lie on the couch, pulling Nick with him. He scoots on his back along the couch so that's he's more comfortable, Nick following along willingly, their mouths never breaking contact. Nick's body is heavy and solid on top of his, one elbow digging uncomfortably into Gil's ribs, but Gil doesn't care. "Nicky," he mutters, moving quickly from tenderness to passion.

Gil doesn't remember if it's he or Catherine who started calling Nick Nicky. It slipped out once, before they'd started dating, an endearment at a completely inappropriate time, but Nick didn't seem to mind or resent it and nobody else seemed to notice. Sometimes he worries that he'll accidentally call Nick "sweetheart" when they're at work.

Nick responds to the change in emotion, to Gil's growing hardness against him. He raises himself slightly on one elbow and slips his hand under Gil's shirt. He strokes Gil's warm belly up towards his chest, simultaneously pushing Gil's shirt up. Then his hand glides down again and he unbuckles Gil's belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loop arousing him further.

He rolls off Gil onto his knees at the side of the couch and starts kissing Gil's stomach, licking and biting softly, one hand on Gil's shoulder in order to stop him from squirming away, the other unbuttoning Gil's trousers and pulling the zipper down. He pushes his hand into Gil's boxers, cupping his cock, his thumb sliding over the smooth head and feeling the moisture already there. Gil inhales sharply and his hips jerk every time Nick's thumb moves.

Nick finds it touching that Gil sucks his stomach in when Nick strokes or kisses it, or when Gil is naked in front of Nick. After all this time, Gil doesn't seem to understand that Nick finds the slight softness sexy. Not that Nick has ever said so in so many words, but he tries to show it. He doesn't like the thought that Gil feels uncomfortable with him, but at the same time it gives him a sense of power that Gil worries what Nick thinks of him.

When Nick's mouth closes over him, Gil fights hard to keep from thrusting upward. He concentrates on the feeling of Nick's tongue, unaware he's gripping Nick's shoulder, his fingers digging in painfully. His body is growing tenser, arching off the couch, his blood roaring in his ears. He doesn't want to come yet, but he doesn't want Nick to stop what he's doing either.

He abruptly sits up, grabbing Nick's head and pulling him up to kiss him. Nick's tongue in his mouth is salty, faintly bitter, and it excites him, because it reminds him of how Nick tastes.

"Take off your clothes," he says roughly, even while he's starting to unbutton Nick's shirt himself. Nick tries to help and their hands get tangled, the process way too slow for either of them.

The first time Gil undressed Nick, he kept expecting Nick to stop him. They'd both had a few beers too many, uncertain of one another, the alcohol giving them the courage to move things along. In the morning, Gil lay next to Nick, watching him come slowly awake, half expecting him to pull away when he realized who he was with. But Nick just smiled at him sleepily. "Hey, Gil." It was the first time Nick had called him anything other than Grissom or Griss.

Nick's skin is smooth, slick with sweat, hot. Gil lies against his back, caressing it, their legs tangled together.

"Let me in," Gil whispers, "let me in."

Nick relaxes and Gil pushes in slowly, filling him. Nick's breath hisses between his teeth, and he arches his back into Gil, seeking more contact. He feels Gil's lips against his nape, kissing him there, feels Gil's hands move from his sides forward to his stomach, then down to his cock and balls. He moans repeatedly as Gil finds his rhythm, thrusting into him, stroking him.

"Come for me, Nicky," Gil coaxes, but Nick fights it, pushing himself back against Gil, trying to take over, to make Gil come first. Gil's hand is still wrapped around Nick's cock, but it's no longer moving, and Nick puts his hand on Gil's wrist, reminding him, guiding him.

He's losing control, but he senses the change in Gil's tempo and he knows Gil is close too, so he finally lets himself go. Gil grows still for a second, then he's thrusting again, a jerky motion, and Nick feels him come inside him.

A while back, before Ecklie split up the team, Nick was driving back from a crime scene, Gil next to him. He stopped at a pedestrian crossing and watched an old couple as they slowly walked in front of the truck. It was hard to tell who was supporting whom and whether it was out of necessity or loving habit. Will that be us one day, he wanted to ask Gil, but he didn't quite dare. He turned to look at Gil and saw that he wasn't looking at the couple, but at Nick, with an expression of such tenderness that Nick had to turn away.

"A woobie, huh?" Gil asks later, as they lie next to each other in bed. "And what precisely, is a woobie?"

"I'm sorry, Gil. I'm afraid we're going to have to get to know each other a lot better before I tell you that."

"So, maybe in 15 or 20 years?"

"Maybe. Or maybe longer."

"OK then," Gil says. "I'll hold you to that."

"It's a deal," Nick smiles.