Title: omg - wtf - lol
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2701
Pairings: None...really; some are mentioned!
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes
Warnings: Fluff and VERY AU
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: jayceepat and podga for their invaluable help in the Americanisation of the fic and their insightful comments. I thank high_striker for his wonderful icons. I am indebted to them all. Any errors are mine.
A/N: I have been ordered to post this fic immediately! I have blatantly 'borrowed' the actual concept from some fics in the H/W comms...but this story is entirely mine and the content bears no relation to any fic I've ever read. It's a 'crack!fic'!

Nick was bored; he'd sprained his ankle at a scene and had been told to rest it completely for forty eight hours. Gris had forbidden him to go to work and because he wasn't there they were up to their eyeballs in the extra work so no one had time to visit with him, although 'Rick and Greg had called and commiserated.

He'd slept all he needed to sleep; he eaten all he needed to eat and was rested - the TV with his two hundred and fifty stations was so boring...even the sports channels couldn't hold his attention. He couldn't even get around enough to do some chores.

So he sat at his computer; he'd replied to all his outstanding e-mails, he'd cleansed his docs, updated his iPod, hell, he'd even defragged. So, now he was aimlessly googling. If he was ever asked 'why', he'd have no answer, he just wondered what he'd find if he put 'csi' in the search engine.

What he eventually found would change his life.

He kept drilling down into different sites and ended up in the LiveJournal, when something caught his eye and he squinted at it to make sure he'd seen it correctly, because it said 'Only Nicky, All Nicky, All the time.' It couldn't be....could it....so he clicked.

It's fair to say that he was very nearly cross eyed from reading, solidly, for four hours. His soda was long gone and as desperate as he was for another drink and as badly as he needed to pee, he couldn't move; he was mesmerised, shocked, appalled, embarrassed, hot and bothered and stunned. He was all of these things and more. Nothing in his life had ever made him feel more frightened.

Not even Nigel.

It was as if all these people knew him. How did they know him? Did they work at the labs? All his friends and colleagues were mentioned....and that was the crux of the matter. Was it all of them - or one of them in different guises? They were all mentioned but HE was the central focus.

These were stories....made up... about his life. About his work at the lab and at scenes; but mostly these were stories about his....his....his....sex....love....life.

But it wasn't just that. He was portrayed in relationships.....they called them 'ships' with Catherine, Sara, Wendy, Mandy, Sofia and even made up women. But it wasn't just that he was portrayed as the willing partner of nearly all the MALE members of the lab.....all of them....EVEN Hodges. Even Hodges. He was stunned. Even Hodges.

What was the most alarming thing for him was that while he could easily imagine himself with any of the women.....especially Sofia who was, frankly, hot. No, it wasn't the women, it was the men. The three men were mainly, 'Rick, Greg and.....Gil.....Gil Grissom.

You see, this was his most private thought in the whole world. He'd never said it out aloud to himself and definitely never anyone else. But he thought that Gil Grissom was hot. Easily as hot as the hottest woman he'd ever seen or been with.

He had no idea why. He did have one, quick, embarrassing, boy on boy encounter; just the once, in college. It was awful and inappropriate and he'd never repeated it, but since the day he'd met the entomologist and forensic scientist extraordinaire.....he'd been besotted. He couldn't understand why. He thought the man had charisma....but most everyone else thought he was a pain in the ass....well, except Sara.

He'd been hauled over the coals by Gris for admitting that he wanted to be like him...Gris had told him to be his own man. He tried, but at the back of his mind what he really wanted was to be 'Gil's man'

He sat with his head in his hands at his computer desk. How did these people know? Well that was simple. It was someone in the lab. And they didn't know - they were just making it up. But they made it so real. They made it like he could have anyone he wanted in the lab at the whim of their fingers on the keyboard. If only it was that easy.

He sat back in his chair staring at the screen again.

His bladder demanded attention and his mouth was so dry he thought his tongue might stick to the roof of his mouth. He never needed to pee or wanted a drink in these....what did they call them...'fics'. No, he had a moist tongue, always at the ready to push past Gil's lips into his equally hot and moist mouth.

To lick and suckle at Gil's body and to........he needed to pee, he didn't need to be so hard he couldn't. He reached for his metal arm crutch and hauled himself to his feet. By the time he'd reached his bathroom the exertion and pain had done the trick and emptying his bladder was just a formality.

That done, he detoured to his kitchen and retrieved cans of soda and a bag of chips. He'd call for take out later...if he was hungry. So far these 'fics' had been appetite suppressants.

He was back at his computer desk and had dumped his goodies on the desk when the doorbell rang. He wasn't expecting anyone and he didn't want to see anyone now. His boredom was long gone.

He hobbled over to the door and checked his security viewer. 'Holy shit...it was fucking Grissom. He'd never been here before. Why, in God's name was he here now on this day in this month in this year....NOW!'

He slid his security chain off and opened the door. He didn't speak.

A startlingly jovial Grissom held up his hand, which in turn held a carry out bag of food of some sort. Under his arm he had a bundle of files. "I come bearing food and some work to help with the boredom...since you told Warrick and Greg you were 'nearly out of your mind with boredom', I believe."

"Errr...well yes...I was."

"Can I come in them?"

"Oh, God, sorry. Yeah, come on in." Nick hobbled backwards to make room for Gris to enter his home. That accomplished he closed his door and took several deep breaths. Gil Grissom had just entered his home for the first time.....ever...as far as he could remember, on the very day he'd been reading stories of the two of them as lovers.

"I've got lasagne and garlic bread and, as a special treat, a couple slices of tiramisu. So I need your microwave and your ice box." Gil had dumped the files on the coffee table and followed his nose to Nick's kitchen.

By the time Nick had arrived behind him, Gil had thrown his jacket over a chair and was unloading the bag of food. He put one cardboard container in the ice box...the tiramisu presumably. He then pulled out a large plastic container and looked up for the microwave. When his eyes alighted on it he moved over to it, opened the door and put the container in.

"Four....five minutes on high, d'y'think?"

"Compromise...four minutes thirty seconds"

"Good suggestion." He fiddled with the controls and then with a flourish of Gris's hand the microwave burst into life. "Plates...utensils...something to drink?"

Nick pointed to cupboards. "There's beer, soda, juices....or I could do a pot of coffee."

"Beer, that'd be good. Are you on any medication?"

"No. Pain's not that bad. Beer then? Oh, I have got a bottle of red wine somewhere...that'd be good with the lasagne."

"It would; where is it?"

"In the laundry room...it's cooler in there."

"You can keep red wine at ordinary room temperature you know." Gris headed into the laundry room following Nick's nod in that direction.


He returned looking at the label of the Ernest Gallo merlot. "Good one, Nick."

Gris ushered Nick out of the kitchen and told him to wait on the couch, he'd prepare their meal. Although he laughed at the word, 'prepare'.

Nick sat on his own couch feeling as uncomfortable as he'd ever been...and he was in his own home too, so he should be at an advantage. But he didn't feel like that. Gil Grissom had invaded his personal space. Ordinarily he'd have been ecstatic...but now he was very nearly hyperventilating at the prospect of eating with him, and making small talk...with Grissom...when thirty minutes ago he'd been reading about said man shooting his load down his throat...the same throat that had swallow the food and drink.... swallow.....swallow......

"Here we are, I zapped the garlic bread to heat it up...but too much and it dries out so it may not be very hot....but it's good; I often use Luigi's."

Oh. My. God. He was sure he'd read a fic about Luigi's, with him and Gris in a stall in their bathroom and Gris was....Gris was.......fucking him. He was also sure he'd read more than one fic where he'd said. 'Oh. My. God.' He was living in an alternate universe alright!

The plate of hot lasagne and a side of garlic bread was handed to him by Gris and a glass of wine deposited on the coffee table next to the files.

Files. He could talk about the files. Yes, he'd talk about the files.

Grissom sat at the other end of the couch and started his food. Nick stared at him and Gris stared back at him and raised his eyebrows questioningly....his mouth was full of food. Not Nick's hard cock on this occasion.

"Files?" That was the extent of Nick's conversational ability.

"Er...yeah...yes... they're all cases you've worked on and they only need a cover sheet to complete them. I e-mailed you the forms before I left work so you have them...you can complete them and print them off...you do have printer...." He looked over and saw Nick's printer. "Yeah...so it'll help us all out...if you want....I mean you are technically on sick leave...so you don't have to work." Gris finished and started on his food once more.

If he'd noticed that Nick seemed unable to function as a normal human being, he was keeping it to himself.

"Are you okay, Nick? Food no good?"

He had noticed then and now Nick had to respond; with a witty retort and a shit eating grin, while he tried not to lol. He wracked his brain for something to say. This wouldn't happen in the fics - he always had something smart to say to Gil....Gris...

"Have you ever done any writing Gris?" Wtf? Omg. Omfg.

"Writing? If you mean for journals and the like, of course I have, why do you ask? Are you writing something....writing a case up?"

"Journal? LiveJournal?"

"LiveJournal? No never heard of it...what subject does that publication cover?"

"Anything. Everything. All over the world."

"Srsly?" Gil was eating his food and it sounded just like the shortened version of the word that Nick was now familiar with.

"Yeah...it's an on-line journal where anyone can write.....anything."

"Oh, I think I have heard of it.....is the food no good...because it'll be too cold to eat soon?"

"Oh, okay." Nick tasted a bite... it was still hot and actually tasted good. He started to eat in earnest...it would be ridiculous to starve over this matter. His best defence was ignorance....pretend it didn't exist...that's what he'd do...pretend that he hadn't read about an encounter with Gil in a tent in the Grand Canyon...that they hadn't been to Mykonos, on holiday together.....that he hadn't been strung up at the Dominion for Gris to dominate.

"Did you sleep with Lady Heather?" WHAT THE FUCK? I AM SO DEAD MEAT.

"I beg your pardon?" Gris had a forkful of lasagne in mid point between plate and mouth and his mouth now hung open and his eyebrows had nearly collided with his hair line.

"I...I....I...I'm sorry....that wasn't what.....I....don't know....what....." Now he did speak like this in some of the fics...all tongue tied and stupid. Gil would now confess that he was gay and that Heather had helped him come to terms with his sexuality and the object of the sexuality and his desire. That would be, Nick.

"I don't understand - what business is it of yours?

Gris had recovered. Nick hadn't. "None....I'm sorry....I....I...."

"No, you must have asked for some reason?"

Yeah...I did...because I've got a death wish. "No....yes.....I....."

"I'm not going to let this go...you know that don't you? It's just too interesting as to why you suddenly want to know about Heather." Gris put down his plate and took up his glass of wine in its place.

"I don't know why." Yes, I do.

"Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn't have asked."

Nick took a huge gulp of air into his lungs. If fictional Nick had the balls...he wasn't going to let THAT Nick out smart him.

"Jealous. I'm jealous."

"Right; I can believe that - she's a very beautiful woman and so intelligent and accomplished......"

"Not of you for sleeping with her...of her for sleeping with you."

"Oh. Oh. Well...I didn't....we talked....she's a friend."

"Did she help you come to terms with your sexuality?"

"What on earth? Nick, have you taken anything....are you......high or tripping or something...?"

Nick gulped again. "No. No....I just read on the LiveJournal about us...you and me...and we're a couple...and live together.....and everything really."

"Are you gay?"

"No."

"Nether am I."

"Oh." Nick found that he was very sad at this pronouncement

Gil picked up on it. "You sound disappointed....but if you're not gay, why are you jealous of Heather and me? Why are you disappointed that I'm not gay?"

"I don't know really. Except...." Nick looked wistfully into thin air.

"Except....?"

"Well, we seem so happy together."

"Right....so let me recap....we're not gay....and yet you've read stories about 'us' being together on the net....on this LiveJournal site. Who's written this?"

"Fangirls."

"Fangirls? What are they?"

"Errr...I don't really know....women...and men....I think...who write stories about people.....I mean it's not just you and me...it's all of us....there's me and just about everyone...but especially Greg and you. It's called 'slash' - that's male on male or girl on girl. And then there's you and....Sara....and that's got a special name.....'GSR'....."

"Sara? ME? Gun shot residue?"

"Gil Sara Romance....I think...."

"Nick this cannot possibly be true....show me."

So Nick did. He put Gris down at his computer and directed him to the site. He left Gil to read some of the fics and put on a pot of coffee. He figured Gil would need it.....

Indeed he did. Nick actually dozed off on his couch while Gris did his investigations. His exclamations peppered the hours that followed. Nick was suddenly awakened by Gris throwing himself onto the couch beside him.

"I've never seen anything like it in my life...who do you think has written all this stuff about me....us...all of us....?"

"No idea...but they know us don't they...there's too much in there that's right for it to be random."

"I agree. But I don't see how we can investigate...because everyone is involved, so it does stand a chance of being someone we know.....God...have you seen there's stories about me and HODGES?"

"And me with him.....you don't think....."

"Hodges? No...it briefly crossed my mind...he's an intelligent man but he hasn't got the imagination needed for this. What about Sara?

"No...man...she could do all the GSR stuff but she'd never write about you with anyone else...ever....unless they were murder stories."

"Sara....rlly?" Gris was entering into the spirit of the matter.

"Yeah....we do seem good together though don't we?"

"As a matter of fact we do...and then there are the ones with you, me and Greg.....that's unusual......you know Greg writes....."

"...you're right...he does....and he has....."

"....a vivid imagination....."

"He would be the likeliest candidate...and he does swing both ways...."

"No.....rlly?"

"Gris...stop that...you're being suckered in."

"I am...you're right."

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Nick forehead was wrinkled in thought....

"What's that, Nick?"

"That film....with Jim Carrey....'The Truman Show'....you know...where his life was a TV show...."

Just as Nick said this, the man looking in on the scene through the mirror in Nick's living room whispered. "Shit." And then to the technicians around him....."Cut."

The End