Title: Hitting the Jackpot
Author: Belinda
Email: Loc6401@cs.com
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Greg Sanders
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Archive: WWOMB & GSAS. Anyone else, if you really want it, be my guest. Just let me know where I can come visit.
Feedback: Sure
Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to pretend they're mine, I've never been quite that deluded. Property of CBS, no money being made, nothing to see here. Spoilers: "Jackpot". Blink and you'll miss it for "Fur and Loathing".
Summary: Coda to "Jackpot". Gil has come to a decision about what's important in life.
Author's note: Ok guys, I have no idea if this is even vaguely in character. I just know it wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so I hope it doesn't suck .
Warnings: Slash.

* * *

Grissom put down his suitcase and the recovered field kit in the entrance hall when he heard the noises coming from his kitchen. Easing the rest of the way into his apartment, he relaxed as he identified the noisemaker as none other than Greg Sanders. Greg, for his part still unaware that he was no longer alone in the room, was apparently chopping vegetables while bopping around to music only he could hear, displaying far too much energy for the older man, who had just driven for hours to return home after a tense few days and a depressing resolution to a case. Grissom felt a rush of amused adoration for his energetic young lover. He remembered the last thing he'd said to the lieutenant in Jackpot, that he was trying to be more open, and decided maybe now was the time to walk the talk.

Greg turned around a let out a yelp of surprise as he finally noticed Gil standing there.

"You're home early," he said, grinning and moving quickly around the kitchen island to greet the returned traveler. "I meant to have dinner ready when--"

He was cut off by Gil's mouth on his, and was suddenly on the receiving end of the fiercest kiss he'd ever been involved in. There was nothing to do but open up and cling to Gil as his mouth was thoroughly plundered. It seemed almost like he was being mapped, relearned, but there was a distressing edge of desperation to the kiss that said it wasn't just about Gris having missed him.

Gil finally broke the bruising kiss, burying his face in the lab rat's neck, breathing deeply of the familiar, comforting scent. Pheromones, he'd told Cath during that Plushies case the week before. Greg had good pheromones.

"What is it, Gil?" Greg asked as he carded his fingers into his lover's graying curls.

"Just missed you." The casual tone Gil tried for was belied by the desperate way he still clung to the younger man's body.

"It's more than that," Greg insisted. "The case got to you, didn't it?"

Gil sighed. Open, he reminded himself. Be more open. Without raising his face from Greg's neck, he admitted, "Three lives ruined, because someone carried more shame than compassion. That man had finally found happiness in who he was, and his son didn't love him enough to accept it. To even discuss it with him. Didn't even have the guts to commit outright murder. Just let the animals do it. Brutal, cowardly little bastard."

"Stop it, Gil. You caught him. Maybe it is too little too late, but justice was served. You can't brutalize yourself over this. You did good."

"It's not that," Gil demurred, pulling away at last, struggling for the words. "Shame and fear, Greg. That's what it's about. That's what I'm about."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"This. You. Us."

Greg swallowed, suddenly afraid. "Meaning?"

"I haven't given as much to this as you have. I've held huge parts of myself back. I'm afraid of people finding out, of the consequences to our jobs, of what our friends will think. What I realized yesterday, is that what I should be afraid of is loosing you."

"Gil--"

"I love you, Greg."

Never. He had never said those words. In the months that they had been together, Greg had suspected, but never been sure, that Gil loved him, and the words had never been spoken. Greg stood, mouth agape, trying to remember how to breathe. The silence stretched.

"Say something," Grissom pleaded, shaking Greg out of his shock.

"Oh, Gil, I love you, too. I love you so much." He reached for his lover, pulling him close and kissing him as fervently as he had been kissed a moment before. Kisses were interspersed with I love yous and endearments. Hands began to roam, tugging at clothing, but after a moment, Gil pulled away again.

"What?" Greg asked, breathless with arousal and joy.

"I want to tell them. Just Cath and Sara, Nick and Warrick, for now. See what happens."

"Ok," Greg breathed, smiling happily.

"And I want you."

Greg grinned, "I pretty much figured that's where we were headed a minute ago."

"No, I mean," Gil hesitated, "I want you in me."

He was pretty proud of himself for shocking the talkative younger man speechless twice in ten minutes.

"You," Greg stammered, "you've never offered--"

"I know, I held that back from you, too. Not anymore. I'm not holding anything back from you anymore, ever."

"You don't have to--"

"I want to, Greg. I've wanted to for a long time, but I was afraid to let you have that much of me, just like I was afraid to tell you I loved you. Please?"

"Anything you want, Gil," Greg promised gently, smoothing his hands down his lover's beard. "Always."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Gil smiled as he led Greg to the bedroom. "Always."