Title: Just A Little Book
By: Chapin CSI
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Rating: PG-13
Warning: I don't speak English and it shows in my stories; luckily, my readers are very forgiving. Thanks!
Summary: Greg discovers the source of Gil's 'moves'.

***

Greg Sanders leant over the railing of the sunny balcony and smiled to himself. He loved the view he got from here; it was one of the best features of his apartment. It was on a fifth floor, so he was spared of much of the blaring sounds coming from the street below.

He glanced at the sky. The day looked promising; sunny but not too hot -just perfect to spend it outside. Greg smiled again. It was his first day off in weeks, and he was going to enjoy it in style.

He went back inside. A moment later, he came out again, bearing a pile of books, a tall glass of ice tea, and a large bag of Doritos. He put the food on a low rattan table and then he settled on one of the two lounge chairs he'd recently acquired. He almost opened the beach umbrella in the corner and decided against it. He'd wait until noon.

After opening the bag of chips, Greg turned his attention to the books; he was about to pick the thick paperback novel on top, but a slender book in the middle of the pile caught his attention first. He glanced at the title.

"Bugs," he muttered. It was one of Gil's books. Greg shook his head. He wasn't in the mood to read a textbook, and so he set the book aside.

He reached for the novel again, when something made him pause. Smiling to himself, he picked up Gil's book again. Gil liked it when people showed an interest on Entomology, and Greg liked to learn new things -especially if they had something to do with Gil.

Greg was casually browsing, stopping here and there to glance at the illustrations, when a footnote caught his attention. He read. And then he read some more.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, well," he whispered.

After a moment, he closed the book and put it down again. He didn't pick another book; for a few minutes, all he did was stare ahead, lost in thoughts.

The ringing tones of his cell phone put an end to his reverie.

He immediately picked it up and answered in his most professional tone.

"Sanders."

"Hey, Greg."

It was Grissom.

Greg's features softened at the sound of Gil's voice. Gil had used that husky tone of his, the one that never failed to turn him on. Anything Gil said -even something gross like, "There are maggots festering in the wound track," - was sexy when he used that tone.

"Hey," Greg said, using his own husky tone. "I didn't think I'd be hearing from you today. You said you were going to be in Court all morning -"

"We didn't even get to go to Court," Gil said, and he couldn't help sounding smug as he added, "When Madison's lawyer saw the evidence we had, he withdrew his plea of not-guilty. They're negotiating a deal."

"Congratulations. The hard work paid off."

"It did."

"But you missed the chance to tell the jury about the evidence."

"Hey, it's all right," Gil said dismissively, "You never know if the jurors are going to understand the science, anyway."

"So, where are you?"

"I'm about three blocks from your place right now."

"You're taking the day off?" Greg was surprised, "That's great! I'll let you drive then -"

"Wait," Gil said, "Don't hang up yet. I can drive and talk, you know. What are you doing?"

"Guess."

"Mmmh. You're in bed, watching TV -"

"Wrong. I was in bed watching TV; right now I'm on the balcony, drinking iced tea and reading."

"What are you reading?"

"Up until a couple of minutes ago, I was reading some porn."

Gil hesitated.

"Porn?" he asked.

"Uh, huh."

"On the balcony?"

"Yeah."

"You were reading porn on the balcony," Gil repeated, just to be sure.

"I know it's not the wisest place to do that -" Greg noted, glancing at the other balconies. They seemed empty but you never knew. "But it's not like I was doing anything, either."

"Oh, so you were reading porn just for its literary content?" Gil asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Hey, it's not like I was exactly planning on reading porn out here, Grissom," Greg replied, "The book fell on my lap, so to speak."

"Oh, really?"

"Really." Greg said. "And I only read a couple of pages before putting it down."

Gil didn't comment.

Greg smiled mischievously.

"Aren't you going to ask exactly what it was that I was reading?"

"If it was porn, then I think I know exactly what it was about." Gil said dryly.

"How do you know that?" Greg challenged, but before Gil could answer, he added, "Oh, I know you consider porn as the last resort of people who lack an imagination -"

"I've never said that."

"Not in those words," Greg admitted, "But you've said that anyone with the slightest figment of imagination and a superficial knowledge of the human body needn't resort to porn to get an-"

"I said that?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well -"

"You've also said that porn desensitizes people." Greg pointed out.

"I do believe so, yes." Gil admitted quietly.

Greg smiled again.

"You don't think porn can be an educational tool?"

"Do you think it can?"

"Well, I've learned a thing or two over the years," Greg replied, "You, of all people, should be thankful. But anyway," he added before Gil could comment, "If you don't believe in the redeeming qualities of porn… then how do you explain that it was your porn I was reading?"

There was a brief silence on the other side of the line.

"My porn?" Gil asked at last, a faint undertone of amusement in his words, "I don't have any -"

"Yes, you do."

"I don't have any porn, Greg." Gil repeated, more firmly now.

"Ok, so maybe it's not porn, per se," Greg conceded, "You might call it a Sex Education Manual or something like that. I found it very interesting. Very enlightening. In fact, I was wondering if-"

"Greg?" Gil interrupted, "What are you talking about?"

Greg chuckled.

"I was reading your book on sexual habits of insects and other creatures in the wild."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'Oh,'" Greg said, imitating Gil's tone. "It's really interesting, you know? It really opened my eyes."

"But it's not porn."

"Well, you can call it what you like," Greg replied, "Whatever it is, it's, hum, revealing. ."

"What does that mean?" Grissom asked, slightly peeved. "It's just a book, Greg."

"Oh, I agree. It's just another book, or so I thought, until I got to the chapter on the sexual habits of the Angel Beetle of Costa Rica, which -and I quote, 'grabs its mate's front limbs and then pins it against a solid surface, where it holds it down long enough to deposit its sperm sac -'"

Greg paused.

"And?" Gil asked, "What's your point?"

"Doesn't that ring any bells?"

"Should it?"

"Grissom, you used that move on me a couple of weeks ago."

"W-what?" Grissom sputtered.

"Don't you remember?" Greg asked good-naturedly, "We were coming back from the lab when you grabbed my wrists-"

"I did not!" Grissom said indignantly.

"Yes, you did," Greg said patiently. "You grabbed my wrists, pinned me against the wall and then you held me down while-"

"Greg, you can't possibly compare -"

"Why not? It was pretty similar, you know."

"There's no comparison!" Grissom insisted, "Besides, I should think I used more finesse than a beetle!"

"I'm not saying you didn't." Greg conceded, "But the technique was essentially the same. Oh, and then there's that thing you do with your tongue -"

"What thing?"

"That thing," Greg replied, "Sort of like a chameleon, when its tongue darts out to catch the farthest fly in order to impress a mate."

"A fly?" Gil sputtered again. "Greg, I can't believe you're comparing me to a -"

"I'm not saying you're acting like a chameleon, Griss." Greg said gently, "But the more I read about the Pigmy Chameleon from Manaos, the more familiar it all seemed to me. Oh, and don't get me started on the Cricket of Madagascar…"

Greg made another tantalizing pause. He was waiting to see what sort of defense Gil was going to put up. To his surprise, Gil didn't immediately reply.

"What about it?" Gil asked after a moment.

"Well, it's just that it has a curious way of getting its mate down on the ground, where it twirls it 'til it's in the right position to… Oh, but I don't have to describe every little thing, right?" Greg said, smiling mischievously, "You know what I'm talking about."

This time it took Grissom a while longer to say something.

Greg really wished he could look at him right then. If the silence was any indication, Grissom was deep in thought, doing some serious self-examination.

After a moment, Gil cleared his throat.

"Greg…" he started, "You don't actually think that I -"

"Yes, I do." Greg replied, and he started to laugh. "Who would have thought you'd be getting sex tips from creatures that are no more than a couple of inches long?"

Grissom was silent for a full minute. When he spoke, he sounded really contrite.

"Greg..." he said, "I don't know what to say -"

"I understand -"

"- I didn't realize I was doing this."

"I believe you." Greg said, amused at Gil's seriousness.

"Listen," Grissom said, "If it makes you uncomfortable -"

"It doesn't," Greg replied good-naturedly, "I mean, it's kinda weird -"

"That's an understatement," Grissom mumbled.

"-but in a good way," Greg finished. "I mean, it's kinda hot too, you know? Unique. Kinky."

"Kinky?"

"Yeah. And the thing is, you keep surprising me, and that's good. It makes me try harder. I mean, I can't keep using the same old missionary position, right? I gotta be inventive to keep up with you."

Gil was cautiously relieved.

"You don't mind, then?"

"Nah." Greg said, "In fact, I stopped reading the book so I wouldn't spoil any surprises you might have for me in the future."

"Good." Grissom said, clearly relieved, "Listen," he added, "I'm about to enter the parking lot, ok? I'll be there in a minute."

Grissom used his own key to enter Greg's apartment. He crossed the living room and tapped on the glass door to get Greg's attention.

Greg casually glanced over his shoulder.

"Hey -" he started, only to stop in mid-greeting. What he saw made him gape.

Grissom was wearing his best blue suit, a snowy-white shirt, and the burgundy tie that Greg had given him for Christmas. The combination of colors highlighted the healthy tan on Gil's cheeks and the blue of his eyes. Gil looked handsome and appealing -hell, he looked downright kissable.

With his eyes fixed on Gil, Greg rose from the chair and took a step, only to trip on the rattan table. Books spilled over but Greg didn't notice. He was unable to gaze away; in fact, he was so intent on reaching Gil, that he didn't notice that the glass door was still closed. He would have walked right into it if Gil hadn't rushed to open it.

Greg didn't notice any of this. He seemed mesmerized.

Grissom smiled.

"Hey, Greg." He whispered huskily.

Greg's mouth moved but no sound came. He felt as if he was in some sort of daze, unable to say or do anything, except stare at Gil. Meanwhile, the older man was smiling at him, seemingly amused by something.

Greg's eyes narrowed.

"Wait a minute," he said, "I think I know what this is."

"What?" Gil asked.

"You're using the Cameroon butterfly's courtship technique." Greg replied in an accusing tone.

Gil frowned.

"The what?"

"According to your book," Greg said, "The Cameroon butterfly overwhelms its mate with a dazzling display of colors -"

Gil rolled his eyes.

"Greg, you're taking this too far." He said.

"Oh, am I?" Greg challenged, "What's with the clothes, then?"

Gil looked down at himself, "I put on the first suit I saw today."

"Oh, really." Greg said skeptically. "The first?"

"Well, it was not the first, but -"

"You're wearing your best suit, Gil. If you're not wearing it because of me, then-" he paused, "Wait a minute," he said suddenly. "Now, I get it. You wore this suit just to dazzle the jurors, didn't you?"

Grissom frowned.

"To dazzle the jurors? How can you think that?"

But Greg didn't buy Gil's look of innocence.

"You're devious." He said, shaking his head.

"I'm not," Gil replied, trying to sound indignant and failing. He smiled. "But I can be if you want me to. Now," he added, slowly pulling Greg's shirt out of the confines of his jeans. "How about losing some of these?"

"You're always telling me to lose my clothes," Greg noted, "But you're the one who's always overdressed."

"You're the one who looks better without them." Gil replied. But he left Greg's clothes alone. Instead, he pulled Greg closer for a kiss.

Greg liked the kiss but he couldn't help noticing that it was not the kind of kiss he was used to get after a week-long separation. It seemed that mentioning the Chameleon had put a damper on Grissom's kissing techniques.

Greg was wondering how to bring up the subject, when he noticed a subtle change in Grissom's manner. Something weird was happening and he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. He just had the impression that Grissom's hands and lips were just everywhere.

It was so intense, that Greg felt his legs buckle under him, but Gil kept him upright in his arms. It wasn't until Gil's mouth took a detour from Greg's lips to the neck, that the young man could finally speak.

"Jesus, Gil… What was that?"

Grissom's reply was muffled by Greg's neck. "Intkntytingabt-"

Making a supreme effort, Greg pushed Gil at arm's length.

"I know what this is," Greg said breathlessly. "It's the snail's courtship, isn't it? It was on that book. I didn't read through to the end, but -"

"Maybe it is the snail's courtship," Gil interrupted. "Maybe it's not." He pulled Greg back into his arms. "But if it is…" he whispered, "You should know that snails usually mate for hours and hours…"

"Great," Muttered Greg, happily giving in to a new experience.

THE END

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