Title: One Day at a Time
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Warning: None.
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them

"It wasn't your fault."

"Don't say that. She said that, but she doesn't know any better. You do."

"Jim..."

"Look. I appreciate your being here. Really. Now, could you just go?"

Gil sets his mug on the table and stands up. "If there's anything I can do."

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll let you know."

Gil waits for a couple of seconds, but Brass is staring into his coffee and doesn't look up.

"OK," Gil says finally. He walks slowly, reluctantly, to the door. When he reaches it he looks back. "Jim..." he tries again, but Brass ignores him, so he leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

In the car he thumps the steering wheel once with all his strength. Then he takes a deep breath, starts the engine and drives home. He's no good to his friends when they need him, he thinks suddenly, remembering the look on Sofia's face when she came to his office to talk to him. He sternly quells the thought, because it's too close to self pity for comfort.

He's just let himself into the house, when the phone starts ringing. The Caller ID shows it's Nick. He's not sure he can to talk to Nick right now and his hand hovers over the phone, until the answering machine picks up. Nick doesn't leave a message, but a minute later Gil's cell phone vibrates in his pocket. He takes it out and puts it on his desk, then wearily climbs the stairs to his bedroom. He takes off his shirt and trousers and lies on top of the made bed, staring up at the ceiling. For a split second he's dizzy, then a flashing strobe seems to cross his vision, sure signs that he's about to get a migraine. He should get up and take his pills, but the medicine cabinet is too far away. Maybe it won't be so bad. He rolls onto his side and tries to sleep.

When the phone rings again, he jerks awake, then moans as the pain comes crashing down at his sudden movement. He lies very still, trying to regulate his breathing, concentrating intently on the pain so that he can take control of it and push it back. Sometimes the trick works; this time it doesn't. He somehow manages to fall asleep again.

The pain wakes him the second time. He doesn't know how long he's been lying there. At some point he moved under the covers and it seems like the phone has been ringing constantly, but everything is quiet now. He sits up, puts his feet on the floor, and then has to wait for the vertigo to recede, so that he can get up and go take his pills. Although by this point it's probably too late and he curses himself for being so stupid. When he returns to bed, he lays his head gingerly on the pillow, waiting for the throbbing pain to ebb. He's doesn't sleep again, but he's not really awake either.

"Gil," a voice says softly, then a warm hand covers his.

"Go ‘way," he mutters hoarsely, not opening his eyes.

"Are you OK?" Nick asks. Gil feels a light touch on his forehead and he flinches away in pain. "Gil?"

"Migraine," he says. "Just need to sleep it off."

Nick lets go of his hand and he misses the warmth immediately. He opens his eyes and sees Nick squatting next to the bed, looking at him.

"Can I help? Is there something you need?"

Gil doesn't answer, just looks at Nick's concerned face, concentrating on his eyes. He reaches out and traces Nick's eyebrow with his fingertip.

"I'm OK. Just let me sleep."

"OK. Feel better," Nick says and stands up.

Gil shuts his eyes again. He wishes Nick wouldn't go away, but he doesn't stop him.

When he wakes up the pain is gone, but his head feels heavy and he's weak and disoriented. He looks at the alarm clock and groans when he realizes he has less than an hour before he needs to be at work. He gets up shakily, but feels a little stronger after a long, cool shower. He walks back into the bedroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. When he lowers the towel, he sees Nick standing at the bedroom door, looking at him. Gil remembers that look.

"Nick." He wraps the towel around his waist and it's only when he crosses his arms across his chest that Nick's eyes move from his body up to his face. "You're still here."

Nick shrugs. "I thought you might need something." His eyes flicker downwards, travelling the length of Gil's body, then up to his face again. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine." Gil clears his throat and shifts his weight from one leg to the other. He's mesmerized by what he sees in Nick's eyes and he drops his arms slowly to his sides. Nick takes a step forward, then one more, until he's standing right in front of Gil, but still not within reach.

"I tried calling you several times yesterday," Nick says.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just to talk. Then, when you never answered at home or on your cell phone, I got concerned."

"I'm fine," Gil repeats mechanically.

Nick takes another step forward. "Are you sure?"

"Nick..." Gil doesn't complete the sentence and he forgets what he wants to say, because Nick takes another step and kisses him.

"What?" Nick asks, but he doesn't seem interested in what Gil wanted to say, because he tilts his head and kisses Gil again. His lips are warm and dry against Gil's, the only point of contact between them, other than the occasional brush of his shirt against Gil's chest and stomach as they both breathe. Gil starts to raise his hands to Nick's face, but they brush against Nick's and Nick laces their fingers together and traps Gil's hands against his thighs.

"Kiss me back," Nick whispers against Gil's mouth, and Gil does, his mouth opening hungrily under Nick's. He tries to free his hands, but Nick won't let them go, so he just closes his eyes and concentrates on the feel of Nick's lips, the taste of his tongue, the moist warmth of his mouth.

Gil doesn't know how long they kiss, who took the final step so that they're leaning against each other, or when. When they break apart, Nick's eyes are bright under heavy lids, his lips slightly parted, wet with their saliva, but within seconds something changes in his demeanour and Gil feels him withdrawing, even though he's still holding Gil's hands, is still standing right against him.

"Nick," Gil says again, and Nick smiles, but it seems forced, insincere, almost slick.

"I guess it's time to go to work, huh, Griss?" he says, and Gil flinches, because Nick never calls him that when they're not at work. He glances at the clock and he sees he now has less than twenty minutes to get dressed and drive to the lab, but he doesn't want to move and he tightens his fingers around Nick's.

"I'm sorry," he says to Nick, even though he's not really sure what he's apologizing for. He just needs to say it. Nick smiles again, the same insincere smile, and twists his hands free, taking a step back.

"What for?" he asks. "I should probably be the one apologizing. Always taking advantage of you, when you're not up to par."

Gil frowns and shakes his head. "No," he says.

"And you know what I realized just now, Gil? That that's when you appeal to me most, when I find you most irresistible."

Gil starts to say no again, but he changes his mind. "That's OK," he says finally and Nick's eyes widen slightly.

"That's OK?" he says, laughing shortly.

"Yes. It's fine," Gil says firmly.

"How's that?" Nick challenges.

In the end, Gil shies away from what he really wants to say. Too many years of conditioning, too many years of not wanting to reveal too much of himself to others, even to Nick, especially to Nick. He settles for "Because I don't mind." It's a lot more than he wants to admit, but a lot less as well.

He moves to the foot of the bed and sits down, hitching the towel around his waist more firmly. He leans his elbows on his knees and looks up into Nick's eyes, waiting for him to say something. Nick has his hands on his hips and is staring at Gil, but Gil can't tell what he's thinking or feeling, not the way he used to be able to.

Nick suddenly sighs. "We're not being honest with each other," he says roughly. He puts his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slump a bit, but he doesn't break eye contact.

"I sometimes think honesty is overrated," Gil says dryly, drawing a short surprised laugh from Nick. "But I try to be. Before..." he gestures vaguely, "... was honest."

"Gil." Nick pauses for a second, pressing his lips together, then looks away. "Do you need me?" he blurts out. His eyes slide back to meet Gil's for a second, then away again.

"Yes," Gil says without hesitation and Nick looks at him again, tilting his head to the side, obviously waiting for him to continue, but Gil doesn't have anything more to say, he just hopes Nick will understand. And Nick finally seems to, because he smiles at him, and this time it's almost relaxed.

"Good," he says, his voice thick. "Good." He clears his throat and rubs his neck. "It's my day off, but I guess you have to get going."

Gil checks the clock and realizes he should have been in his car five minutes ago. He stands up, uncertain as to what to do next, hesitating between walking over to Nick and waiting for him to leave the room, so that he can get dressed.

"Do you feel like going and getting something to eat? he says finally. "I'm already late, anyway."

Nick doesn't answer immediately, avoiding Gil's eyes again, and Gil rushes on to fill the silence.

"Maybe you could go pay Jim a visit afterwards? I went to see him after the community meeting, but it was probably too soon."

Nick suddenly looks at him sharply. "You went to see Brass yesterday?" he asks and Gil nods in confirmation. Nick frowns a bit and looks away, silent for several moments. Then he seems to work something out, because he looks at Gil again.

"Okay," he says. "I'll take care of it. I'll wait for you downstairs."

He starts to leave the room, but at the doorway he pauses, one hand gripping the door frame.

"Gil, I know you said we should take one day at a time, see how it all works out. And I think you're right, because things... Well, they're different. But I just want you to know that..." He swallows hard, leaves the sentence hanging.

"I know, Nick. Me too," Gil says.

That seems to satisfy Nick and he nods once, then turns away and goes downstairs. Alone in the bedroom, Gil breathes in deeply, then again. One day at a time, he repeats to himself. It sounds pretty good, better than it has in a long time.

He starts to dress.