Title: Inertia
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: Gil and Nick can't quite figure out what they want.

"Un-fucking-believable," Nick mutters between his teeth, as the cue ball seems to waver slightly on the edge of the pocket, then stays put on the felt. After losing nine games in a row, he was really looking forward to winning one, even if had to be through Grissom scratching on the eight ball.

"You're sure you haven't played since university?" he asks Grissom in an accusatory tone of voice.

"There might have been a couple of games here or there," Grissom shrugs. He lays his cue stick on the table. "It's not a skill one forgets."

"No, not if you're Fast Eddie Felson."

Grissom smiles. "Aren't you glad I didn't accept that bet?"

Nick grunts and leans his own cue stick against the table. When he'd suggested an evening of pool, it hadn't occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to beat Grissom soundly, especially when Grissom mentioned that he hadn't played pool in almost thirty years. The first couple of games he hadn't even been concentrating too hard; he'd been amused by Grissom's intense expression and distracted by Grissom's ass every time he leaned over the table. By the third game Nick knew he was in trouble, in more ways than one, by the fifth he'd forgotten all about Grissom's butt as it was the one time he managed to clear the table before ignominiously sinking the eight ball in the wrong pocket, and by the sixth he'd figured he might as well enjoy the view while he could, because he wasn't going to win a game in this lifetime.

He sees Grissom glance at his watch and realizes the evening is about to end, unless he does something.

"Well, the least I can do is buy you a beer," he says hurriedly. "Seeing as you didn't hustle me."

Grissom seems to hesitate for a second, then nods. "Okay."

"Do you want to sit down?" Nick suggests.

"No, the bar is fine," Grissom answers, moving purposefully towards it.

Nick orders two beers and they stand next to each other, an awkward silence between them. Or at least that's what it feels like to Nick, as he searches for a topic of conversation.

The last few weeks have been frustrating. Nick isn't quite sure how to go about changing the relationship Grissom and he have had for so long, and he sometimes questions if he even should. He thought that he was prepared to be patient and take things one small step at a time, that one day looking back he'll regret playing it safe and not knowing, more than trying, even if leads to disappointment, but it's really all a load of bullshit. Every time he feels a response from Grissom, however slight, every time he thinks that maybe this can go somewhere, instead of being happy with the progress, he grows more impatient. His immediate instinct is to push forward as hard and fast as possible and it's becoming a battle not to give into it. He's never been very good at waiting or at weighing options and outlining strategies, not where his private life is concerned. He wants a quick resolution, and that's the one thing he knows he can't have. Especially after Grissom as much as told him that he's still trying to make sense of why Sara left him.

Gil can't remember the last time he felt so relaxed in the company of somebody else. Leaning against the bar, his hand wrapped around a bottle of cold beer, he allows himself to slip into a daydream where this is something Nick and he do on a regular basis. He slips a sideways glance at Nick and catches him frowning, and he feels a twinge of unease. It suddenly occurs to him that he should have probably let Nick win a couple of games; Nick isn't a sore loser, but only a glutton for punishment would set up a repeat evening of pool.

Thinking back, he realizes that Nick has issued a number of invitations over the past three weeks. Three times to breakfast, once to a Rebels basketball game, tonight here. Other than that first breakfast, Gil had always assumed there would be others present as well, but each time he was pleasantly surprised to discover it was just the two of them. In some ways he feels like a fraud; the only reason Nick is spending so much time with him is because he assumes that Gil is pining for Sara and that he won't feel like participating in group activities. This can't be much fun for him.

After each of the previous meetings, Gil drove home trying to figure out what he was feeling. Overall, and despite his expectations to the contrary, being with Nick is, for the most part, like being with an old friend and Gil sometimes finds himself volunteering things that he wouldn't have told Jim or Catherine. Other than the subject of Sara, nothing seems out of bounds. He's also enjoying getting to know Nick better, and he's surprised that after eight years of working together, there's still so much he doesn't know about him.

Only there's another part of being with Nick and it has nothing to do with friendship. It's the part that has him actively expressing interest and trying to glean more details when Nick mentions a date he went on, or the fact that, in retrospect, he didn't enjoy being a fraternity all that much. It's the part that makes him think twice about accepting invitations from Nick, because he's afraid that Nick will figure out that Gil wants something that Nick doesn't, and then it will be Nick who's going to start building a wall between them.

He turns towards Nick, leaning one elbow on the bar, trying to think of something to say.

"What-?"

"Are you-?"

They smile at each other and Grissom nods at Nick. "Sorry. Go ahead."

"Nothing, I was just wondering if you're growing your beard again," Nick says, as he feels the heat rising to his cheeks. Somehow, once he utters it, the question doesn't sound like an innocuous conversation starter.

Grissom rubs his hand against his jaw. "Yes. Why?"

Yes, Nick, you moron, why? "Oh, no reason. It looks good," he says casually, then takes a hasty gulp of beer and nearly chokes on it.

"Thanks," he hears Grissom say.

Nick glances at Grissom suspiciously and sees him smiling, but he seems pleased rather than amused. At least, Nick hopes so.

"You were going to say something?" he asks Grissom.

Grissom opens his mouth and then closes it again, looking ill at ease.

"Griss, what?"

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Nick doesn't quite gape at Gil's question, but he definitely looks surprised. Shit. He should have left well enough alone. It wasn't even what he was intending to ask when Nick and he interrupted each other three minutes ago. Doing something together every so often is normal between guys. Two nights in a row on their "weekend" is not. Especially since Gil has no concrete plan to offer and they're both way past the age of just hanging out.

"Tomorrow night?" Nick repeats and Gil knows when someone is searching for an excuse to avoid something without seeming rude about it.

"Forget it. You probably have other things to do," he says, offering them both a graceful way out.

"No. Not really," Nick says simply, and Gil's heart starts pounding. "What did you have in mind?"

Grissom doesn't respond immediately and Nick waits on tenterhooks. He'd pretty much resigned himself to being the one that would have to do the asking if he wanted to spend any time alone with Grissom. And now this. The fact that Grissom has no ready suggestion has to mean that it's more than a casual invitation. Doesn't it?

From the very first time he'd met Nick, Gil didn't think he'd ever seen someone with a more expressive face. Happiness, anger, sorrow, whatever Nick was feeling was always evident to Gil. As he helplessly casts around for an activity that will simultaneously interest Nick and not seem like a date, he sees something in Nick's eyes that he didn't expect: anticipation, even excitement. Suddenly Gil feels that he could suggest pretty much anything and it wouldn't matter to Nick, and it unfreezes his brain.

"Stratosphere Tower?" he suggests.

OK, so it's not romantic, which Nick would have been stupid to expect in the first place, because they're nowhere near there yet, if they'll ever be. He'd prefer a nice quiet dinner, something he can't see happening either before or after the rides. But it is Grissom sharing one of his weird hobbies with Nick, and that's just fine by him.

He nods and Grissom smiles, and that's fine by Nick as well. And if he doesn't puke his guts out tomorrow, he's going to damn well kiss Grissom, because he's done waiting.