Title: manual (măn'yū-əl) n.: A small reference book, especially one giving instructions.
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Warning: PG
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them.
Summary: So now that Nick's got Gil, what does he do? (A sequel to "And the Wall Fell Down Flat", itself a sequel.)

Never in my life have I felt so thankful for Warrick's presence.

First of all he issued the invitation that has Gil sitting across the table from me right now. And equally importantly, he's keeping the conversation rolling, which allows me the time to process what just happened. I need that time, because my thoughts are bouncing like crazy balls in a small room, careening against the walls, against each other, changing directions, uncontrollable.

What did just happen or rather why, how? After a week of behaving like a bear with a sore head (and I knew it had to do with me, I knew it, or maybe I hoped it) Gil walked up to us and now he's having breakfast with us. And when he smiled at me, I felt… I felt so many things that I can't remember them and I need to, because otherwise the moment will fade away and I don't want that to happen.

Then again, it doesn't really matter. At least, not now. Maybe later, from a distance, when I want to remember, take stock. It's like when I'm on vacation. At first I keep on stopping to photograph everything, but the 2nd day I'm taking fewer photos and by the 3rd I've stopped completely. My family teases me, says I'm lazy, but that's not it; I just don't want to keep interrupting my present only to create evidence for the future, I don't see the point of it. And with Gil opposite me, smirking as Warrick makes fun of his on-again, off-again healthy breakfast choices (today it's healthy), every now and then looking at me, I want to be fully experiencing the now, not remembering the past or worrying about the future.

Because the future isn't certain. When Gil smiled at me back at the lab, I knew he was trying to show me something and I'm pretty sure it wasn't meant to be a promise of something. It was more like he suddenly, against all expectation, flung a door open inviting – or maybe that's too strong, allowing is probably more accurate – allowing me in. And now it's up to me.

I'm nervous, because this isn't like any other time for me. This is someone I've known and gotten along with for years. We already have a relationship and we know its rules and boundaries. And now we're about to invent something new for ourselves. If either of us doesn't like it, can we at least go back? Or will the old relationship be lost to us forever?

"Hey man, are you still with us?" Warrick nudges me.

"Uh, yeah, still here. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Well, then you're less tired than I am. I'm past thinking of anything but bed." Warrick pulls out his wallet and lays a couple of bills on the table, claps me on the back, says goodbye and is gone.

And we're left alone, sitting across from each other, looking at each other. Gil isn't smiling now, he's serious. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing, I'm not quite sure I'm through that door yet.

"So" I say and then am at loss for words.

His lips twitch. "So" he agrees.

Suddenly, almost out of nowhere, I feel a burst of happiness, of pure joy, and I just start laughing. Gil is smiling back at me and it's an open, unguarded smile, one that holds nothing back and that I'd only rarely seen until today. He doesn't look puzzled at my laughter and I know he understands what I'm feeling.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I ask.

Instead of answering, he gets up reaching for his wallet.

"No, I've got it" I say and he nods. I pick up the bills Warrick left, leaving a buck as a tip, and I pay at the cash register, Gil following close behind me.

It's sunny and hot outside and Gil puts on his sunglasses as we stand just outside the door. I don't like that very much, I can't see his eyes. I want to reach out and take the sunglasses off again, but we're in public.

So, do what do we do now? I'm not even sure if Gil's one of those people who sleep right after shift, like Warrick and me. My heart starts to sink when I realize how very little I actually know about him after all these years. But then I'm elated, because there's so much I still get to discover.

"What do you do after shift?"

"Sleep" Gil answers simply.

The sun is beating down on my head. I feel myself sweating and it's not only because of the heat. I don't know if I should take things slow or fast, if I should ask him out tonight or on the weekend, if I should suggest the movies (on a real date this time) or a museum. I'm tongue-tied and shy, which is ridiculous, because it's been a long time since high school and I've learned the moves well since then. For the first time in my adult life I feel like I need a how-to manual.

Gil is starting to perspire as well. I can see the dampness forming along his cheek and neck and I remember what it felt like when I touched him there, what seems like so long ago. For the first time, I think back on that without embarrassment. I want to put my hand out, trace his cheek along the edge of his beard, feel his skin under my fingers again.

Two students walk out of the diner breaking the spell. I wonder if we've been standing there seconds or minutes. I start to become aware of how we must look to other people, just staring at each other. We need to move.

"Would you like to do something together later?" I ask, playing it safe and leaving everything vague, up to him.

"Dinner tonight?" he asks, helping things along. "Do you like seafood?"

"Yes" I smile. "Yes."

I'm still smiling when I reach home, after making arrangements to call each other in the evening once Gil has confirmed the reservation, after walking to our trucks, at one point our hands brushing together, after Gil's quiet "See you tonight, then".

And as I flop around restlessly in bed, in my cool dark bedroom, I try to stop myself from thinking ahead, imagining, worrying, wondering.

Because I want to take this as it comes and whatever it brings, one minute at a time.