Title: Pain Management
By: sera
Email: seraphina_snape@yahoo.co.uk
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Maybe for the first two episodes, but who hasn't seen them yet anyway?
Summary: Holly's death hits Nick harder than he thought. So how does he get all those crazy thoughts back under control?
Series/sequel: Maybe.
Notes: I used a line from the end of "Cool Change" somewhere in the beginning.
Date written: June 2005

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first time it happens is after Holly.

Grissom says "Let's go home" and that is exactly what Nick wants to do. But somehow, he ends up sitting behind the wheel of his Chevy, staring at a small patch of grass at the edge of the building.

He feels drained, as if twisting the key in the lock and opening the door has sucked the energy out of him and left him just enough to get into the seat, but not nearly enough to start the car and drive home. Not even enough to go back inside or fish out his cell to call a taxi.

"Nick." Grissom sounds surprised, standing a few feet away. Nick almost doesn't hear him with all the windows closed and the distance between them, but he sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eyes and turns his head minutely, so that he can read the word from Grissom's lips.

At first he thinks Grissom will just say goodbye and leave, but Grissom is never predictable like the rest of them. He steps closer, rapping his knuckles against the window. "Nick?"

Nick now turns his head, squinting against the sun. He can only make out Grissom's silhouette, and it's almost better than the real thing. Silhouette-Grissom doesn't have that Look. The I'm-the-boss-now Look.

Nick knows Grissom didn't ask for it, and he can even understand why the Sheriff would want Grissom to take over graveyard. After all, Grissom has been a CSI longer than the rest of them, and he's famous for his bugs and other creepy crawlers, as Catherine calls them.

Being the boss means that Grissom won't be as easy-going as before. Not that he ever was, much, but at least you could sit with him in the breakrom and rat on someone from dayshift or laugh at Ecklie. Nick hopes this won't change, but he's not too sure about it. After all, Grissom's the boss now.

The door opens and Nick nearly falls out of the car because he didn't see it coming and he's leaning against it for support.

Grissom's hand on his shoulder steadies him and pushed him back in an upright position. "Nick, what are you doing? Are you okay?"

It takes a moment to figure out what Grissom is saying, but then Nick nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just..."

He doesn't continue because he just has no idea what to say. He's just... what? Waiting for this strange silence that's ringing in his ears to disappear? For the clouds behind his forehead to clear away and let him think again? What exactly is he doing anyway?

"Are you sure you can drive?" Grissom looks concerned, by Grissom's standards. Grissom's standards are different than normal people's standards, Nick knows that. He's seen it. Some people will call it double standards, but to Nick, Grissom's just different. He has other priorities. Sometimes, Nick has the feeling it wouldn't be right to apply the same set of rules everyone else has to follow to Grissom as well. He's just too... different.

"I'm not driving," he replies eventually, nodding to the keys that are lying in the passenger seat.

"Are you drunk?" Grissom asks, the concern being replaced by that disbelieving tone of voice that means Grissom wouldn't really understand if he were drunk. Like there's nothing that would disturb him more than Nick Stokes, sitting in his car at eight in the morning, shit-faced.

Nick just looks at him for a moment, then lets himself fall back into the seat, eyes closed. Grissom's an investigator – he figure it out.

"Do you want me to drive you home?"

Startled, Nick looks at Grissom. He had expected a boss-answer: "Don't drink and drive, Nick" Or "Nicky, maybe you should see Dr. Kane." Not the unusually friendly "Do you want me to drive you home?"

But in a way, it is typically Grissom. Straighforward but not too friendly. Not like Catherine who would look him up and down and say "Nicky, get into my car, you can't drive like that" or Warrick who would shake his head and say "Man, I'd better get you home or my grandmama will never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you" with a half-grin.

"Well?"

"Uh... I can take a cab."

Grissom raises his eyebrow and shakes his head. "Hand me the keys."

Nick looks at the keyring on the passenger seat. It looks too far away and too heavy to lift, but he manages to grab it and lets it fall into Grissom's outstretched palm with a small sigh of relief.

Grissom motions for Nick to get out of the car, and it's suddenly easier to move. Nick watches as Grissom locks his car and walks over to his own Tahoe parked a couple of spaces ahead. When he's almost reached his car, he turns around, head tilted to the side, and looks at Nick expectantly.

Nick has the weirdest vision of a dog and its human, taking a stroll around the block. The dog runs ahead, occasionally stopping to take a closer look – or sniff – at something beside the road. Then it turns around to look at its human, trodging along behind the dog, and not half as exuberant or enthusiastic. "Are you coming?" is what the look says.

Only that in his universe, he should be the dog and Grissom the human, not the other way round, so he quickly catches up to his new boss, walking akwardly because his legs are still a little stiff. He's a little upset that he doesn't get the chance to wait impatiently for Grissom to unlock the car; Grissom unlocked it with the remote from a few feet away, and Nick still doesn't feel like a dog.

They are silent in the first few minutes, Grissom focussing on the street and other cars, Nick trying to sort out his thoughts. It's like someone has hit a switch in his brain that makes him lose it. None of his thoughts are making sense. It's almost too much, bearing all these thoughts that have no place in his head on any normal day.

But today isn't a normal day, the only sane voice in his head argues. You're entitled to a little bit of insanity every now and then.

"What did you say?"

"What?"

Grissom risks a quick glance at Nick before turning his head back to the street. "You said something," he explains. "I didn't quite catch it."

"It's not important," Nick replies. No more talking to myself, he thinks, hoping that he didn't say that out loud, too.

The rest of the drive passes slowly, but Nick doesn't notice. He's trying too hard to find the box in his brain labelled ‘sanity' and maybe the sprinkler of ‘common sense' while he's at it.

You didn't even know her. I say we forget her and move on, the sane voice announces.

The other voices immediately protest. But what if it happens to us? How can we ever feel safe again? Don't you think that's important, too? Do you think we can keep doing this job?

Nick sighs. If he doesn't think at all, he won't hear the voices, so he keeps his mind blank until they reach his street. It's a nice neighbourhood, a nice street. Good, quiet neighbours, friendly chats over the garden fence, occasional barbecues on the street giving him a semblance of normality.

Now, at roughly nine in the morning, most of the cars have left the driveways, all the neighbours have gone to work, their wives are busy with housework or shopping. Nick is glad he doesn't have to chat with Vernon like he usually does when he's home on time and picks up his mail just when Vernon does, too.

Grissom parks curbside, not in Nick's usual spot, but Nick doesn't mind. He follows Grissom down the short path to his house and doesn't even think about getting his mail. It can wait until later.

Nick leans against the wall while Grissom tries to figure out which is the key to his front door. Nick could tell him that there's a key in a hollow stone decorating the flowerbed to their right, but he wants to watch Grissom. Grissom himself doesn't seem bothered by the scrutiny or his task, or he just doesn't notice.

Inside, Grissom stops after a few steps into the room, looking around. Nick remembers Grissom's never been in Nick's house before. He wonders how Grissom knew the address; Nick has no idea where Grissom lives.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Grissom's eyebrows rise again, and he turns around to Nick. "Sure," he says slowly, as if he's not that sure at all.

"I have, uh, water, juice, beer, root beer, coffee and, uh, I'm sure I have other stuff, too, but--"

"Water's fine," Grissom says. "Thank you."

Nick can feel Grissom's eyes on his back as he walks around the counter and into the small kitchen. He feels them on the back of his head and his shoulders, his lower back and even his ass. Feels them as he takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and grabs two glasses from the cabinet over the sink.

Grissom moves up to the counter, setting Nick's keyring next to the phone. Not its usual spot, but Nick doesn't say anything. With all the ruckus in his head, he's glad if he can hear Grissom when he speaks.

"Your water," he says finally, pushing the glass over the counter to Grissom. Grissom takes the glass and downs half of it without pausing to breathe. Nick watches the muscles in Grissom's throat, fascinated without knowing why.

"Do you want me to stay?"

This time it's Nick's eyebrows that raise in question.

Grissom drinks the rest of his water. "I mean, do you want me to stay so we can talk about Holly Gribbs?" he clarifies then, his voice shaking a little when he says her name.

Nick frowns. "I didn't really know her."

"Me neither. You can still be upset." Grissom moves around the room, inspecting the pictures along the walls.

Nick pushes all thoughts of Holly Gribbs out of his mind and stands next to Grissom. "That's my sisters and my brother in our backyard, when I was born. My parents were on the way to the hospital when my grandmother took the picture."

Grissom only stares at the picture and Nick begins to suspect he's not seeing a thing.

"Nicky, are you okay?"

Nick looks down at his hands for a moment, then, seeing them clenched at his sides, looks back up again, straight into Grissom's startling blue eyes.

"I don't know. I don't know what I feel," he finally admits, and this time it's Nick staring at the picture with unseeing eyes. "I want..."

His whisper is almost inaudible, and he's surprised that Grissom hears it at all.

"What do you want?"

Something in Grissom's voice pulls Nick's eyes away from the photo and makes him look back at his boss. The emotions behind Grissom's stare are indecipherable, but for the first time, Nick notices the little things that give him away even if his eyes and expression doesn't. He should have noticed before; no one can control their body language to an extent that blocks all interpretation from a start. But Grissom's always been composed and calm and more the boss than a colleague anyway.

Now he swallows a few times, and attracted by the motion, Nick looks at Grissom's neck, seeing the rapid pulse beating just under the skin. Perplexed he realises that his own heart is beating very fast as well.

Nick swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth. "I--"

He is cut off by Grissom's mouth claiming his as Grissom shoves him against the wall. The kiss is memorable, though not very good. Nick doesn't know where to put his arms, so they just hang down at his sides, akwardly slamming against the wall as Grissom presses against him. He feels the picture frame coming off its hook, hears the glass crunch between the wall and his shoulder.

Then Grissom abruptly lets go of him and Nick stumbles, reaching out to grab the edge of the nearest drawer to steady himself. The picture falls to the floor with a muted clatter and lands face down on the carpet.

Grissom starts to pull away. "Nick, I'm sor--"

"Don't!" He grabs Grissom's sleeves, stopping his retreat. "I just want... I want--" He doesn't finish the sentence or the thought, but Grissom understands him without words.

Then Grissom presses him back against the wall, and this time Nick holds on, gripping the fabric of Grissom's jacket tightly in his fists. The kisses improve now that there is no surprise moment or awkward need to gauge the other's response first. He finally knows what he wants, what he needs to lock the insanity back in the small corner of his mind where it doesn't reach the rest of him.

Grissom's hands are on his head, in his hair, sliding down his back, coming to a rest on his lower back.

"Nick." Grissom says it against his neck, breathing hot air over flushed skin, and Nick nods, not able to formulate words.

"You realise that this isn't--I mean, we're not--"

"I know," Nick says, lossening his grip a little so that he can lean back and look at Grissom. "It's just..."

Grissom nods.

Yes, it's just a one time thing. Relieving the pressure, easing the tension. It will be filed under "experiences, past and forgotten" come morning, and everything will be as it was, just a little less draining, a little more relaxed. They understand each other.

Nick bends his head, tasting the skin on Grissom's throat. A little salty, and a lot like every other skin he ever tasted. The smell, though, the smell is different. Nick hasn't dated as many men lately as he used to in college, and women don't have that... man-smell. Women smell sweet, and flowery, and like vanilla and cinnamon and roses. Grissom smells like herbal soap and more-expensive-than-he-thought cologne. It's a good smell, just what he needs.

Somewhere on the way between their spot against the wall and his couch, Nick loses his jacket and his sweater, leaving his torso exposed to the cool air and Grissom's stare. Neither is especially uncomfortable, and Nick takes pleasure in the suddenly very open expression on Grissom's face. He can read it easily; it's an expression he's seen many times before, just not on this face: lust.

But impatience wins out and Nick quickly unzips Grissom's jacket, letting it fall to the floor without another thought. Grissom doesn't seem to mind; he responds by pulling his polo shirt over his head. Nick takes the chance to run his hands over Grissom's chest, grazing one sensitive nipple and then the other before completing the circle and returning to Grissom's stomach, marvelling at the soft hairline wandering up from Grissom's groin to his navel.

It doesn't take long for Nick to open Grissom's black slacks and push them down his legs. Grissom's boxers are black as well, and Nick wonders for a second if Grissom even has clothes that are not black, dark grey or brown, but bans the thought at the sight of Grissom's erection straining against the cotton.

Grissom takes a step forward, causing Nick to fall back onto the couch. Nick doesn't have time to think about it, though, because Grissom climbs onto the couch with him after shrugging off his shoes and the trousers pooling around his ankles. He kisses Nick's neck and slowly wanders downward, licking at Nick's nipples while his hands unbutton Nick's trousers.

Nick raises his hips off the couch, allowing Grissom to pull the trousers down his legs and over his feet. He's still wearing his shoes, so he quickly toes them off. They land on the floor next to the couch with a muted thud!, followed by the trousers and Nick's boxers.

Grissom doesn't waste any time. With a quick glance at Nick to make sure he's not backing out, Grissom slides his hands up Nick's thighs, positioning himself between the spread legs. Then his fingertips reach the dark curls around Nick's cock, and Nick moans when Grissom circles the base of Nick's erection with his hand.

Nick's hips nearly rise off the couch when Grissom licks his lips and then the tip of Nick's cock, slowly trailing his tongue over the sensitive head while his hand starts pumping. Nick isn't able to think any more, insane or not. All he can feel is the warm, wet tongue against his cock, one rough hand cupping his balls, the other hand on his cock.

Then Grissom pulls back, blowing cool air across Nick's wet skin, making him shiver from cold and withdrawal. Nick makes a needy sound and Grissom grins, an expression on his face that Nick has never seen before but hopes he might get so see again, once in a while.

Nick feels his skin flush from heat as Grissom bends back down, this time taking in more of his cock. He has his head on the couch's arm rest and can see himself disappearing in the depth of Grissom's throat. He's always thought it highly erotic to watch this, watch someone giving him a blowjob, but no one has ever made him feel so excited like Grissom.

He can see the tent in Grissom's boxers and licks his lips. He wants to touch Grissom's cock, see it, taste it, but he knows that he'll be too exhausted to do something about it later. He puts his hand on Grissom's shoulder and gives it a light tug, but Grissom doesn't stop. On the contrary, he swirls his tongue along the underside of Nick's cock, causing Nick's eyes to roll back into his head and his heart to beat just a little faster.

But Nick is determined not to be distracted by the heavenly feel of Grissom's tongue and his mouth and his hands, so he shifts until he has one of his legs between Grissom's. He bends it at the knee, rubbing against Grissom's thigh and then, finally, Grissom understands and shifts a little, bringing his groin into a much better position.

They both groan when Nick presses his knee against Grissom's erection, wishing he could see Grissom fully naked, see his cock. But that doesn't stop him from closing his eyes and imagining it, the patch of dark hair, maybe going grey at some points, the long thick cock, rosy from all the blood rushing into it, the leaking tip.

Grissom rocks his hips a little, rubbing against Nick's leg, and he groans again, the vibrations in his throat sending shivers down Nick's spine. Their movements speed up, and Nick has to keep himself from accidentally kicking Grissom in the groin as the other man starts sucking in earnest.

Nick's hand finds its way into Grissom's hair, stroking the curls. He reaches down and pulls out of Grissom's mouth, dragging Grissom on top of him. His hands find the elastic of Grissom's boxer shorts and nearly tear it apart in an effort to get the garment off the man as quickly as possible. Then Nick gets to look, and it's almost as he'd imagined. Only the hair isn't greying as he'd assumed.

He pulls Grissom down, kissing him while he raises his hips to meet Grissom's. They establish a quick rhythm, and Nick groans as Grissom's hand trails down his stomach and wraps around both their cocks, pumping and stroking.

Grissom's breath is hot and fast against his lips, and Nick opens his mouth to let him in. A guttural moan escapes Grissom, and he grabs Nick's arm tightly with his free hand as he sprays their stomachs with warm semen. Nick feels his whole being snap back into place as he follows Grissom not ten seconds later.

End.