Title: Proverbs
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3549
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes.
Warnings: AU and angst!
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: I think podga v.nearly had a breakdown correcting my tenses in this little fic...or she dreamed of putting a contract out on me...
A/N 1: I was supposed to post a narrative of my holiday but have fallen behind because I’ve had a really bad cough and cold and have basically done sfa since we got home!

Part One   Nick’s side of the story.

 

The hot water and the soap made conditions ideal for Nick to take care of business.  He chuckled at the euphemism used to describe masturbating.  But then he stopped chuckling and he stopped taking care of business.

 

He suddenly thought that he seemed to be jerking off in the shower as often as he used to before…that was before he’d been getting more than enough sex to keep him, and his hand, fully occupied.  Hell, he’d even been sore sometimes, he’d been getting that much.  But what was it people said about things slowing down?  ‘The honeymoon’s over’.  It was; well and truly over.

 

His erection slumped and Nick lost the enthusiasm he’d had just moments ago.

 

He finished washing and rinsing and turned off the water, shook himself to get rid of the excess water and grabbed a towel.  As he dried himself off, he remembered the last few months.

 

The unavoidable sharing of a room at the Atlanta forensic convention had been where it’d started; it’d seemed that even with separate beds they’d both felt the tug of sex, the smell of something in the air.  The second night they’d given in and the third day they’d been both bleary eyed and not without some discomfort.

 

It should have stopped when they left Atlanta.  What happens in Atlanta, stays in Atlanta.

 

Only it hadn’t.

 

Within three days of arriving back in Vegas, Nick had asked if Gil wanted Nick to follow him home.  Gil hadn’t hesitated.  They’d met up at Gil's townhouse within half an hour.  Then they’d met up at Nick’s condo before the next shift.

 

No wonder there no need to jerk off, those first weeks they’d both been losing their loads once or twice a day.

 

And Nick was in no doubt about the relationship then.  It had been sex.  It hadn’t been much else.  They hadn’t gone out for dates, they hadn’t had evenings together, or meals together, even take-out.  They’d been physical.  They’d fucked.  And then they’d fucked some more.

 

So what had gone wrong?

 

As Nick methodically prepared his breakfast he thought some more about when it had all changed.

 

He’d been sick.  That had been it; just a cold.  But an almighty sneezing, nose dripping, coughing and spluttering cold.

 

He‘d still gone to Gil's house for a fuck.  He hadn’t been that bad, for chrissakes. But Gil had laughed about Nick wanting sex while he was spluttering and sneezing.  Gil had made him laugh.  Gil had made him laugh like no one else had ever done before. 

 

Gil had been concerned and had defrosted some chicken broth for him.  Homemade from his mother’s recipe, no less.  It’d made Nick feel better, and instead of a fuck they’d watched TV, an old BBC documentary with David Attenborough, on the Discovery Channel.

 

Nick remembered that Gil had been amazed that he’d known so much about the subject.  Nick knew a lot more than what could be gleaned from a TV documentary.

 

Gil had made him take his clothes off and when he’d been down to his tee and briefs, Gil had wrapped him in a warm blanket and found him a hot water bottle to hug.  And they’d sat on the couch and watched TV…no, they’d cuddled on the couch.  Yes, they’d definitely cuddled.

 

And Nick had stayed at Gil's to sleep…and they hadn’t fucked.  Gil had held him close, and kept him warm, and hadn’t worried about his germs at all.

 

All of a sudden things had changed and they’d talked more, they’d spent non-fucking time together.  They’d dated and had meals and take-out together; and then Nick remembered that the sex had got better, not so frenzied; it had changed from plain old fucking to lovemaking.  And Gil had smiled a lot.  At him.

 

It had been real nice.  Nick had felt good and he’d thought Gil had too. 

 

But then the dates had started to dwindle, the meals and take-out stopped and the lovemaking eased off.  Gil had had more appointments to keep, more times when it had no longer been convenient for Nick to go over, or for Gil to visit him.

 

Nick was sitting eating his breakfast and stopped mid chew, he realised that it could be compartmentalised.

 

They’d spent about five weeks fucking.  They’d spent about four weeks making love.  Gil had spent three weeks withdrawing, and now they hadn’t seen each other out of work for two weeks.  Nor had Gil worked with him.

 

Gil had never said anything but it had just gradually stopped.  No discussion or questions.  It had just stopped.   As Nick thought about it he knew he was just as bad; he hadn’t said anything about it to Gil, just accepted the gradual withdrawal until it was all over.  He’d never asked why.  Stupid really.

 

But then Nick had had a great five weeks and an even better four weeks.  He’d been like a cat that ate the canary and a dog with two tails.  Both favourite expressions of his mother, and apt descriptions.  He chuckled, but it wasn’t funny.

 

Of course, Nick also knew why he hadn’t spoken up about the decline of their relationship, such as it had been.  He’d been completely blindsided about sleeping with his boss.  His inspiration.  His hero.

 

He’d never felt that he was worthy of such attention from Gil.  The man worked on a higher level than most people Nick knew. To find out that he was just as human as the next guy had shocked, but then pleased Nick, inordinately.  Gil was just the same as everyone else.  That’s what he’d told himself; but at the back of his mind, where he kept his lingering hero worship, he must have known that Gil would tire of him.

 

Ornithological knowledge, or not, Nick just wasn't in the same league, so really it had come as no shock that Gil had decided to move on.  No big deal…except that it was.

 

Catherine had told him just last night that she’d heard Gil was seeing Sara; hadn’t Nick noticed how happy Gil had been for a couple of months?  And then she said hadn’t he seen how Gil had lapsed back into his old, almost morose, ways?  Catherine was being real catty, maybe she was jealous, Nick didn’t know.  But she’d said that anyone dating Sara would eventually end up just as miserable as she was.  Catherine wouldn’t cite her source and Nick really hadn’t believed her.

 

Now, as Nick nursed a mug of coffee, he thought about Catherine’s disclosure.  Surely there was no way that Gil could have been with Sara when they’d been together?  Gil would simply not have had the time.   But what about now?  Perhaps that was why he’d given Nick the old heave-ho.  It would explain everything.  Maybe Gil saw Sara as more of his equal.  More equal than Nick.  Whether or not it was true. 

 

Nick knew that in Sara’s own opinion she was a cut above everyone else; that she thought she operated somewhere near the same level as Grissom.  It seemed to Nick that she’d managed a good smoke and mirror effect around herself.  But Nick had decided some time ago that it wasn't the truism everyone believed it to be.

 

Pity the man hadn’t had the balls to tell him; it had been good there for a while.

 

No, not good, great.  Really great.  He could have loved Gil.  Yeah, he could have loved him.

 

Maybe he did; maybe he did love him…

 

No use crying over spilled milk…his mother used to say that, too.

 

Part Two   Gil’s side of the story.

 

Gil had the water of his shower as hot as he could stand it without it actually scalding his skin.  His balls ached, they felt heavy, but he didn’t have an erection.  Nor did he have the inclination to get one.  He closed his eyes and tried to remember when he’d last had an erection.  It must have been a week or more, he hadn’t even had a morning wood.

 

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders a few times, trying to ease the tension.  They ached as much as his balls.  In fact, he ached all over; the water provided little relief. 

 

He switched the shower off and opened the cubicle door and his body shuddered, involuntarily, as the colder air made contact with his overheated skin.  He grabbed a towel and started rubbing himself dry.  He was vigorous and almost rough.  He wanted to feel something, even if it was only a towel, rough on his skin.

 

He needed to feel something, something other than Nick. He needed to make himself normal again.  He needed to rid himself of the spectre of Nick. 

 

There’s no fool like an old fool; it certainly applied to him.  He’d never regretted anything, life was too short and it was often impossible to make reparation, so he learned his lessons and moved on.

 

But he regretted Nick.  He regretted it; he was stuck with every image, every moment with Nick indelibly imprinted on his brain.  Damn his memory. 

 

It had been Judy’s fault.  All she had to do was be a receptionist and make hotel reservations for when they were away.  And yet she’d forgotten to make a reservation for Nick.  The hotel had been full for the convention, and Gil could have hardly have refused to let him have a bed in his own twin bedded room.  Even as he’d offered he’d known it would be his undoing.

 

Just how long had he been trying to keep his hands off Nick?  From the day he’d walked through the door for his interview, that’s how long.  And now he was going to be in the next bed, in a hotel room, nowhere near where they worked.

 

That first night, Nick had been quite relaxed.  He was used to sharing, he had a big family, bunking up together was a normal occurrence.  Gil was not used to sharing.  He never shared, unless he was with someone, as in sleeping with someone.  And God knew that wasn’t often.

 

And that first night, Gil had listened to virtually every breath Nick had taken, every move he’d made.   Gil’s erection had been hard and had gradually become painful as he’d tried to ignore it.  But after several hours of trying to sleep he had done something he’d never dreamed he’d ever do; he’d jerked off looking across at Nick, the object of a thousand fantasies over the years, begging him not to wake up as Gil came in his pyjama pants   At least he’d slept a while afterwards.

 

Weeks later Nick had said he could smell the sex in the room that night; Nick had meant it as an analogy of just how much they’d wanted each other.  Gil had let him go on thinking that.

 

Gil had meant to leave it in Atlanta.  It wouldn’t travel well.  He’d had more in two nights than he’d ever hoped or dared he’d have with Nick.  He should have been grateful and he definitely should have been circumspect about the outcome. 

 

Three days was all it had taken.  Nick had smiled at him as they made their way across the lot to their trucks, after shift.  Nick had said, ‘You want me to follow you home?’  Gil had nodded, without hesitation.  You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

The sex had been more than great, it had been phenomenal.  Gil had never, never, had sex like it, all consuming. His life had been focussed around his cock; in Nick’s mouth, in Nick’s ass, in Nick’s hand, anywhere in or on Nick.

 

As Gil prepared his coffee pot, he remembered the morning, some weeks later, that Nick had arrived after their shift.  They’d been busy and Gil hadn’t seen Nick since team briefing.  Overnight he’d developed a terrible cold and he’d said he’d still come over because he’d thought a fuck would help clear out his sinuses.  Gil had laughed. 

 

He closed his eyes now as he remembered Nick’s sneezing fit, followed immediately by a giggling fit.  He’d never heard Nick giggle before they’d started to fuck.  It was such a happy sound, more than a chuckle and less than a laugh, but Nick made it intimate.  Gil had liked to think it was his giggle, as if he was the only person who’d ever heard it.

 

But Gil, stupidly, ridiculously, had made soup for him, taken care of him, taken him to bed and cuddled him; had held him as he’d snuffled in his sleep. 

 

That had been the night.  Gil remembered quite clearly that that had been the night.  It had been the night Nick had lain in his arms, and Gil had whispered into his skin, skin a little too hot with fever.   Had whispered, ‘I love you, Nick’. 

 

It might have been all about sex for Nick, but it had become so much more for Gil.  So much more and Nick hadn’t noticed.

 

Those nine short weeks had been the happiest time Gil could ever remember.

 

It had been Jim.  He’d only been gossiping about a dayshift case.  The man had been fifty-one.   The man’s wife, fifteen years younger.  Gil had listened intently when he’d heard that.  He was fifty-one.  Nick was fifteen years younger. 

 

The wife had been sleeping with a young neighbour.  The man had shot them both.  Not dead, but the wife would be paralysed and the neighbour disfigured.  Jim had been of the opinion that the marriage had been doomed from the start; he’d said a big age difference meant they didn’t share things in common. Jim had said, ‘there’s no fool like an old fool’, and then gone off to eat his sandwiches.  Gil had already eaten his, but spent the rest of the night trying to hold onto them.

 

That had been the night he’d made the plan.

 

He’d test Nick.  The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

 

He’d withdraw from Nick and see if Nick would question him and fight to keep him and if he didn’t, there’d be no hard feelings.  No big scene; no great loss.  He’d never told Nick he loved him, not in so many words; whispering it while he slept didn’t count and Nick had never told him. 

 

So as Gil sat at his kitchen table nursing his second mug of coffee, he thought how well the plan had started off, gradually, not being available every day, not having any dates, no take-outs.  Not making love. 

 

But Nick had never noticed. 

 

And it had become too painful to turn back the clock, because the outcome had always been inevitable.

 

Nick had never said anything.  Gil thought he’d probably been happy that Gil had given him an easy way out.  No recriminations.  It had all gone so smoothly; too easily, really. 

 

Pity Nick hadn’t wanted him; it had been good there for a while.

 

No, it had been great.  Really great.  He’d loved Nick.  Yes, he’d loved him. 

 

He still loved him.

 

Gil’s hand hovered above his cell phone…but he pulled back…

 

 

Part Three    The Resolution


Nearly four months later they were at a scene together, just the two of them. That was very unusual, but then their working relationship had gradually eased, if not to normal, then to workable.  Neither man had ever spoken about their failed…whatever it was.  It was true to say that since then, they’d never spoken about anything other than work. 

 

But Nick had changed, his blind hero worship had slowly, but surely, dissipated.  He could respect the man as a scientist, but the private man?  The private Gil Grissom was an asshole.

 

The forty minute drive to this scene, in Nick’s truck, had been conducted in almost total silence; it wasn’t quite comfortable.

 

Now they were crouched down alongside one another, inspecting skeletal remains in a wooded area just off the Interstate.

 

“These aren’t human.”  Nick pronounced as he surveyed the pile of bones.  A walker had found the bones and an over zealous ranger had called LVPD, and rather than begin a full scale murder enquiry they had asked for a forensic assessment on the find.

 

“No.  They have been arranged though; this doesn’t seem to me to be a natural formation.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s not been done recently.  They’ve settled in place and seem almost embedded in the soil; old bones and an old site.”

 

“Mmmm.  You were a scout; do scouts do this sort of thing?”

 

Nick laughed.  “Well I never did.”

 

Gil laughed too.  But then they both stopped.

 

Nick put his camera to his face and took some more pictures of the scene, then stood and took some of their surroundings.

 

“Do you want to bag ’em?”

 

“Yes.  We can then find out what they are and let the Ranger know.”

 

And then, after all the time that had elapsed, Nick suddenly found his balls.  He almost blindsided himself.

 

“Why did you dump me?  Why couldn’t you tell me?”

 

Gil looked as if he’d been hit with a taser.  And clearly he was unable to speak as he opened his mouth and closed it several times, soundlessly.

 

Nick, after imagining this very scene for so long, was elated.

 

“Obviously can’t remember that far back.”  His tone was scathing and he thought that Gil had winced, almost.

 

“I remember that you couldn’t have cared less.”

 

For the first time in many years Nick felt an overwhelming urge to hit someone; a knuckles making contact with face and bone crunching urge.  His elation had evaporated and was replaced by such anger that now he couldn’t speak.  Gil must have sensed the almost palpable anger emanating from Nick because he took half a step backwards and nearly stumbled and the momentum was back in Nick’s corner.

 

“You bastard, you wanted me to come to you with a begging bowl?  When you didn’t even have the common courtesy to speak to me?”  But his anger was gone as quickly as it had arrived.  “Why, Gil?  Why did you break my heart?”

 

“I didn’t…break your heart...you broke…”  But as Gil looked at Nick’s face and saw the truth, he gasped a breath and put a hand on his chest.

 

Nick immediately jumped towards him.  “You okay?”  He put his hand on Gil's arm

 

Gil looked stricken but nodded.  “I thought… You didn’t want me.”

 

“Why?  How did you figure that out?  What did I do?”

 

Gil couldn’t speak for a few moments; he shook his head and then whispered.  “Nothing.  Nothing.  It was me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Too old.  I was too old for you.  There’s no fool like an old fool…”

 

“Jesus.  I never thought that, I didn’t, honest.  You’re not…”

 

Gil rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.  He looked up at Nick’s face and saw nothing but the straightforward man he’d always seen.  No lies, no deceit.  Only bewilderment and hurt.  But it was true, quite obviously, that there was no fool like an old fool, because he’d let Nick slip through his fingers.  What the fuck had he lost?

 

He felt he could cry.  At his own stupidity, at his own pride.  Pride comes before a fall.

 

“I’m sorry, Nick.  For everything.  I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you back in Atlanta and I certainly shouldn’t have let it continue after we got back and I should have said…I should have spoken to you.  I’m sorry.”

 

Gil felt as if he had a knife in his gut, twisting and eviscerating him.  Slowly and painfully being gutted.  He could no longer look at Nick, so closed his eyes and held his head down, but he heard the sound and the knife twisted in his heart.  Nick’s sound for him, his giggle.

 

“You took advantage of me in Atlanta?  That’s not what I remember.  And I asked you if you wanted me to follow you home when we got back to the lab.  You seemed to really like me and then…”  Nick had to stop; his voice would have broken.

 

Nick looked down and took a breath.  “I’ll go get a big evidence bag out of the truck.”

 

Gil watched Nick as he walked back to his truck.  There was a fallen tree trunk a few yards away and Gil stumbled across to it and sat down.

 

Do people get second chances?  Two bites of the cherry?  Should he try?  What would Nick do, say?  It would be no worse than it is now.  No harm in trying.

 

For Christ’s sake get a grip.  Gil looked up and Nick was ambling back towards him.  He’d put on his sunglasses.

 

“I've been thinking, Gil…what if… “

 

“…we could try again?”

 

Nick teased his lower lip with his teeth and then tried a tentative smile.

 

Gil stood up.  “Do you think it could work?”

 

“Won’t know if we don’t try.  It seemed pretty good for a while, back then”

 

“It was pretty good.”  Gil felt lighter, somehow, as if a he’d been able to put aside a heavy load that had been weighing his whole body down.

 

“Yeah.  Pretty good.”

 

“If I promise to talk to you.”

 

“Talk to each other.”  Nick knew, really, that he should have spoken out sooner.

 

“I would like to try again.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“You could follow me home at the end of shift.”

 

“I could do that.”

 

“Will you?”  For a fraction of a second Gil held his breath.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Shall we get the bones?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Gil looked across at Nick as he shook the evidence bag open and thought: things do not change; we change...

 

The End