Title: It's A Little Secret, Just A Nick Stokes Affair
By: Carol Trendall
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Note: Another one I wrote for a Fuh Q Fest two years ago. Challenge: One character spills something on the other, requiring the victim to disrobe. Must include the line 'You're trying to seduce me. Aren't you, Mrs Robinson?'
Summary: Nick tells Catherine a secret.

***

There were those who would wonder at the motivation behind Nick's offer to help Catherine paint her daughter's bedroom. They would be wrong.

It sounded stupid, even to Nick, why he was prepared to spend an entire weekend covered in paint when he could be doing ... other things. He told Catherine it was a moment of weakness, of Texan chivalry. She told him that was bullshit, but accepted his help anyway.

Truth was that after a month long vacation in Hawaii he'd made a decision and he was feeling very good, too damn good not to try and spread it around.

So he helped people. The previous weekend he had helped Warrick move apartment, the weekend before that he had helped Greg rebuild a carburettor, somewhere in between he helped Sara choose a new car and even built a dog kennel for Al Robbins. His new found happiness and inner peace had turned him into a regular good samaritan, everyone thought so.

Catherine was in the middle of telling Nick that very piece of news when he interrupted her to tell her some news of his own. That's when she knocked an open quart of Honeysuckle Cream off the ladder and over his head.

Her first reaction was laughter, but when she saw him swipe globs of yellow paint from his eyes the reality of the situation hit her and she came down the ladder, dabbing ineffectively at his face with a rag pulled from her pocket. Despite her efforts the paint spread at a rapid rate. A twisted part of her mind registered that the guy in the store had been right; the paint had excellent coverage per gallon.

"Shower!" Catherine finally shouted.

Nick gestured to the spreading pool of yellow at his feet. "The floor ..." There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Dropsheets ... that's why god gave us dropsheets."

Later Catherine would wonder how she got Nick down the hall to the bathroom without yellow footprints marking their path, but for now she didn't care. Shoving him unceremoniously into the shower cubicle fully clothed, she reached in turned the cold tap full bore.

Nick tilted his face into the stream of water. "Thank god it's water based paint."

Catherine stifled a laugh and stepped into the shower stall behind him. "God, I'm sorry Nick. Let me help you ..." Using the side of her hand she scraped paint from Nick's hair.

Blinking yellow tinted water out of his eyes he turned to face her. The look on his face was one of amusement, despite the diluted paint that now covered him entirely. Catherine kept scraping away, trying hard not to laugh. Now they were both covered in paint.

He gripped her arms and moved her out of the stream of water. "You're wet and covered in paint. Go change."

He let his eyes travel down and admire the way Catherine's dampening t-shirt clung to her curves. Another time, another colleague, he thought, and things might be heading in a different direction right about now. The absurdity of the situation hit him and he started to laugh

Catherine kept working on the paint. "Nick, you got to help me here."

He was too far gone into the depths of hilarity to be any help at all, instead he fell back against the tiles, still vibrating with laughter and let Catherine scrape the paint off him.

"Shut up Nick. It's your fault this happened, so just let me get the paint off your skin before ... oh just shut up and take your clothes off."

Lifting his head from the wall he fixed her with his version of a coy smile. He wiped water out of his eyes and grinned at her.

"You're trying to seduce me, Mrs Robinson." He even waggled an eyebrow suggestively. "Aren't you?" He was so amused by his own wit that this set him off again, laughing harder than before.

"Well," Catherine began, "if I didn't know better I might think you were making a pass at me."

Nick cocked his head and winked at her. "You're the one in the wet t-shirt."

"Fuck you," she said. "Wash the rest of it off yourself. I'm done here." Then she stormed out of the bathroom.

Nick took his time. He removed his ruined clothes and dropped them in the corner of the shower. Adding warm water to the cold, he helped himself to Catherine's expensive looking shampoo and even managed to whistle a tune while he washed.

Twenty minutes later, with the largest towel he could find tucked around his middle, Nick ventured into the hallway in search of his friend. He found her in the kitchen, sitting at the table sipping a beer.

"Help yourself," she gestured towards the fridge. "Then sit down and tell me what you said before."

When he had his beer, Nick sat down opposite Catherine. They watched each other across the expanse of pine.

"You want me to say it again?"

She nodded.

He sucked at the bottle and was a long time swallowing.

"I'm gay," he said finally.

"That's what I thought you said. I just wanted to be sure. At least it explains why you offered to help with the painting."

He couldn't read her face so he said nothing.

"Jesus, I got a degree in forensic science and I missed this."

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. "That's what's bugging you?"

"Ever since I've known you, Nick, you had an eye for the ladies. When did this happen?"

"First time? College."

Catherine shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't see it."

Nick shrugged and sipped his beer. "I'm good at hiding it."

"So what changed?"

Nick shot her a mysterious look. "Hawaii."

She laughed. "I could almost see the 'just fucked' stamp on your forehead when you came home. Is it serious?"

"Nah. I might have kept seeing him but he ended it." Nick looked away, a pink stain appearing on his cheeks. "Can't say I blame him."

"What happened?"

Nick made a self-deprecating snort. "I called him by someone else's name ... in bed ... when I came ..."

"Oh ... well, that'll do it."

He sipped his beer and nodded agreement.

Catherine drained her beer and got up for another. With her head still inside the refrigerator a question suddenly arrived in her mind. She pulled out another beer and closed the door, turning to inspect Nick with her scientist's eye.

"I probably don't want to know the answer to this question ... "

Nick was a step ahead and some perverse part of him wanted to blow her mind. "Gil," he told her with no sign of embarrassment.

"Oookay ..." she said spinning around and putting the beer back in the fridge. "A beer's just not going to do it now."

Catherine disappeared into the living room, leaving Nick at the table, looking decidedly pleased with himself. When she returned she had a bottle of scotch and two crystal glasses. Sitting down opposite him again, she poured two shots and slid one across the table.

"OK, let's go over this again." She lifted her glass and took a healthy swig. "You're gay. Have been since college. You called Grissom's name when you were in bed with some other guy. Am I right so far?"

Grinning over the top of his glass, Nick nodded. "On the money."

"We'll ignore the fact that I should've seen the clues before this and get straight to the motive." Catherine took a healthy slug before continuing. "You're telling me this now because you've got a thing for Grissom."

"On the money, again."

"So I'll work my hunch here. You're planning to tell him?"

Nick smirked and drained his glass.

"Jesus, Nick. "

"You see, Catherine, I got a degree in forensic science, too, but unlike you I've been using my observation skills on my colleagues."

"And these observation skills tell you Grissom's gay?"

"That plus Greg saw him in a gay bar.'

"And Greg was in a gay bar because ...?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll ignore the fact that I don't believe Gil was in a gay bar and go straight to the fact that this conversation is telling me that you, Greg and Grissom are all gay."

"Technically, Greg's bi," Nick corrected, "and for that matter, Gil could be, too."

"Is there a guy in the Department who isn't gay?"

"Ah, I don't think you'll catch Warrick sucking dick anytime soon."

"Thanks for putting *that* image in my head."

"No problem."

"OK," Catherine took a breath. "I can deal with this, it's OK." Catherine poured more scotch into their glasses and then raised hers in toast.

"Well, here's to you ..."

Nick clinked his glass against hers, a cheeky smile on his face. "And here's to you, Mrs Robinson."

***