Author: Tayla
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: Gil/OMC, Gil/Greg
Rating: R for language and sexual content
Category: Angst
Status: Completed June 18, 2002
Archive: Yes to WWOMB/Peja. Yes to Sanders Lovely Lady. All others please ask.
Feedback: Yes, please. All constructive criticism will be graciously accepted.
Email: tayla36@aol.com
Authors Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/tayla36/index.html
Series/Sequel: Companion piece to "Just For Today"
Disclaimers: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS broadcasting company. No infringement is intended and the author makes no profit.
Authors Notes: I was working on a follow up story to "Just for Today" and I found myself letting the character's go off on these long mental ramblings. Frankly that was interfering with the flow of the story. So I wrote these two little vignettes, "Ruminations" and "Ruminations II" just to give the readers an idea of where Greg and Gil are coming from and their emotional states.
Thanks to my beta reader, the incomparable kyrdwyn. You know girl, if we keep feeding these bunnies, they'll never go away!
Spoilers: "Pilot", "To Halve and To Hold", "The Finger" And my own fic "Just For Today"
Summary: Gils thoughts after he leaves Greg after their second time together
Warnings: Slash
Why do these young kids fall for me?
What am I doing wrong? I try to be stern and cold personally, while still being approachable professionally. After all, they are colleagues and co-workers. They have to be able to work with me and me with them.
I teach seminars all over the country. Well, more often on the west coast, but I have been to Boston and Philadelphia. There always seems to be one or two students that become infatuated. I don't mind that. It's kind of flattering, really.
And it's not always the female students. I don't mind that either. Actually, that's even more flattering. Gay men can be very discriminating.
I really don’t know what they see in me.
I've got nice eyes. I've still got all my hair. It's going gray now, but I still have it. I'm extremely intelligent. That's attractive to some people, I suppose.
Other than that, what is there? I'm not that tall, about five feet eleven. I used to be in pretty good shape, but I've let myself go a bit And my profession is death. I've been working in coroner's offices and crime labs since I was sixteen. That's not attractive.
It's good work, important work. 'Somebody-has-to-do-it' kind of work. And I do it well. It's all that I do well. That and crossword puzzles.
I don't dance. I don't sing. I golf a little. I bought myself a set of titanium clubs, but they haven't improved my game at all. I carry a gun but if I actually had to draw it, I might just shoot myself in the foot.
I've never been good at love. They say love is a game. A game that I'm not good at. Really, I only do puzzles and solve mysteries.
I had a girlfriend in high school that I never got past second base with. She wasn't too upset when I decided to stay home for college instead of going east with her. I think she was bored with me. Oh, I was fine for a high school boyfriend, and I tutored her through her difficult classes, helped her study for SAT's and fill out college applications. But she was ready for some excitement. I think that's why she went away to college. She couldn't understand why I wanted to stay home. She didn't understand that I needed to be near my mother.
No, I'm not really a momma's boy. But I loved her a great deal. We had a special bond because she was deaf and I was one person in her life that she could communicate with fully without resorting to paper and pencil. I have an older sister, but she had a family of her own to take care of. I couldn't leave my mother alone and go to Princeton when there were perfectly good universities right there in California.
So Rebecca left without a backward glance, and I commuted to UCLA, where I discovered my attraction to men. Or at least one man in particular.
So there I was this virgin science nerd. I wasn't even a resident. Resident students always looked down on the commuters. So I didn't have much of a social life. Not that I really wanted one. I had my studies and my job. That was another strike against me. I worked in the county morgue. A nerd that worked with the dead. That didn’t impress the ladies.
Then I met Peter. He was in my freshman Biology class. Biology was going to be my major, but freshman bio was for majors and non-majors alike. It was pretty boring to me. But Peter was struggling through it. He saw me sleeping in class one day and afterwards, he approached me. He asked me if I hated the class as much as he did.
I told him that I didn't hate it, that it was just stuff I already knew. I was surprised I was able to say anything to this man without tripping over my tongue. He was gorgeous. I was hit with a wave of desire so strong I really thought I was going to faint. I had never felt anything like that for Rebecca. And I had never been attracted to guys at all.
But at that moment, I thought Peter was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I think he knew the effect he had on me. He grinned at me, with his perfect white teeth in his perfect tanned face. He was tall, maybe about six feet two. And he had chestnut brown hair, down to his shoulders. And deep brown eyes. So he grinned that grin at me and asked me if I was such a smart guy, maybe I could help him understand biology. Otherwise, it might take him all four years to fulfill his minimum science requirement.
I agreed. Of course I agreed. I was already drooling over this man, and we hadn't even exchanged names yet.
I should have known better. Rebecca had used me to get better grades. She hadn't really cared about me. Although to be honest, I only dated her because I was a teenage guy and according to social norms, I was supposed to have a girlfriend. And I really didn't mind helping her with her homework. I guess I'm a natural teacher. However, I did draw the line when she asked me to actually write an essay for her.
So Peter needed my help and I needed to spend every spare moment I could basking in his glow. I went back to his dorm room with him that afternoon. It was a messy jock's room. He was a Criminal Justice major and a soccer player. His roommate, who I hardly ever saw because he was always out with some cheerleader or sorority girl, was a football player. I have no idea what he was majoring in. Probably jock studies.
We studied for a few hours. I gave him a basic understanding of Biology. Then we took a break and he gave me a basic understanding of cock-sucking.
That first time was amazing. I was sitting on his bed for the most part. I occasionally got up and paced around the room, when I dwelled too much on the realization that I was sitting on his bed. He was sitting at his desk, occasionally taking notes. He decided we needed a break, and he joined me on the bed. He didn't waste any time either. He just pinned me down and started kissing me. I was surprised and tried to pull away at first, but then he got one knee in between my legs and started grinding on me and I stopped struggling. Not too many minutes after that, I found myself face to face, so to speak, with the first cock I ever sucked.
So after that, we would get together a few times a week. Usually after Biology lecture. I would tutor him for a while and then we would have sex.
Those were heady days for me. Discovering sex. Discovering that I was gay. I was a little worried at first. This was the mid-seventies and men weren't usually openly gay. Peter was pretty cool about it, though. He wasn't shy about touching me in public, like throwing an arm around my shoulders, though most people would interpret it as a buddies kind of gesture.
I was young and in love. My boss at the coroner's office kept looking at me like I was a different person, and I suppose I was. I was deliriously happy.
He was easy to love. Very easy going. It wasn't just about sex. We talked a lot. If we hadn't been lovers, we probably would have still been buddies. Which is strange, because we were so different. I just opened up to him. I told him about my parent's divorce. Told him about my father, who I almost never saw anymore because he didn't know how to relate to his science nerd son. I told him about Mom being deaf, and how close we were.
Honestly, it just felt so good to be able to talk to someone that I didn't notice that he wasn't sharing nearly as much about his past as I was. When I did notice and pressed him for details, he just said that he had an ordinary stable kind of childhood, and there was really nothing to talk about. Then he changed the subject. He was very good at changing the subject, usually by going for my zipper.
I remember the night he took my virginity. His roommate was away for the weekend and he convinced me to stay overnight. We were finally able to spend more than a few hurried moments having sex. We were able to get totally naked instead of just shirts unbuttoned and dicks sticking out of flys. He was sucking me when I told him I loved him. He paused, and for a moment, I thought I had just ruined it. Then he grinned that sly grin of his and came up to kiss me and said he wanted to fuck me.
I let him. It hurt at first, but then it felt wonderful, and he kept kissing the back of my neck and calling me 'lover'. It was a magical night.
After that, I felt like we were finally connecting. We started spending time together besides the days that we had Biology class. Even some weekend 'dates', like going to ball games or movies. Our relationship continued the next semester, even though we had no classes together. I took as few shifts as possible at the morgue, so I could spend more time with him. I tried to take classes that coincided with his, so we would have free time together too. I thought everything was perfect.
Until the day I went to his room and found him fucking his roommate.
I had a lecture that got cancelled. And it was one that didn't coincide with one of his, so I stopped by his room to see if he wanted to get some dinner.
I felt like an idiot. Even though I had never listened to people having sex before, the sounds were unmistakable. And when the roommate said "Yeah, Peter. Fuck me harder," and Peter said, "Oh, lover. You feel so good," well, I thought I was dying, thought I was having a heart attack at eighteen-years-old outside my cheating boyfriend's dorm room. I was really glad I had heard before I knocked so I could get out of there.
I didn't see him for almost a week. When I finally did confront him, he was confused as to why I was so upset. We had never promised to be exclusive. He was surprised that I wasn't having sex with other people, too. After all, we were in college. We were supposed to go a little crazy.
I wasn't happy, but he was right. He hadn't promised anything. He was sorry that I hadn't understood that. He made it up to me by letting me fuck him.
I don't think he ever truly realized how much he had hurt me. I had given my heart and he hadn't. I might have gotten over it if I had stopped seeing him. But I reasoned that I had already given my heart. I might as well try to salvage something of the relationship. So we continued to see each other, but it wasn't the same. I never opened up to him the way I had before. Our time together was spent talking about school or having sex. He continued to see other people. But I didn't. I only slept with one other person and that was only because Peter had talked me into a threesome with his roommate.
I let myself hope again after we graduated and decided to share an apartment. I got a job at the coroner's office and I was working on my Master's in Forensic Science part time. He went to the police academy and joined the force. I thought he would settle down. After all, we weren't kids anymore. We slept together most nights. He was passionate and attentive. And he really appreciated my cooking.
But once every couple of months, he would stay out all night. Come home the next morning smelling of sex and strange cologne, or sometimes perfume. Peter decided he was bisexual. Well, good for him. All it meant to me was that he had that many more opportunities to cheat on me.
And I was so needy I never called him on it. I let him get away with it. I knew what he was doing. And he knew I knew. For about a week after his little adventures, he was always extra solicitous of me. Buying me gifts and being extra affectionate. But we never talked about it. I was afraid to talk about it. I loved him and I didn't want to drive him away.
I finally gave up on him ever loving me the way I loved him. I came home a day early from a conference. And he had a lover in the apartment. It was like that day in college all over again. I stood outside the bedroom door and listened as he once again betrayed me, this time in our own bed.
It was someone I knew. Someone I worked with at the coroner's office. They were talking, and Larry asked Peter why he did it. Why did he cheat on me, and didn't he love me? Peter said that he did love me. I didn't believe that. He had never said it to me. He said that he liked living with me. Liked having someone to come home to. And he liked sex with me too. But every once in a while, he just needed some extra excitement.
And there it was again.
I was boring.
I snuck out of the apartment. I waited until he and Larry left for work that morning. Then I packed my things and got out.
He contacted me a few days later at my sister's. Since my mother had died, she was the only family I had. She gladly took me in. She had never liked Peter. He called. He said he had been worried when I didn't come home from the conference. Then I told him that I had been home, but he didn't know it because he had been busy. I didn't waste time arguing with him. I just told him that he was free to find someone more exciting.
The next day, I turned in my resignation and moved to San Francisco. I got a job in the police department in the Forensics Division. I heard through the grapevine that Peter moved to Santa Fe and went to law school. I never heard from him again. So much for first love.
I never fell in love again. I only had a few casual flings after Peter. I even decided to give women a try. But none of them were ever serious. I didn't want to open up to anyone again.
I concentrated on work, got my doctorate in Entomology, and made a name for myself in the field of forensics. Not that I was trying to make a name. I just didn't have any outside interests, so everything I had went into the job.
I started doing the seminars, because I always enjoyed teaching. I can get pretty animated when I'm discussing something about science. Maybe that's why those kids get attracted to me. I really love my job and I love science and that comes through when I teach.
I met Sara at a seminar. She asked a lot of questions. Intelligent questions. She argued with me. I like that. I'm attracted to intelligence, whether in a man or a woman. That’s what prompted me to extend the job offer to Sara. I knew that she had a bit of a crush on me. After years of teaching these seminars, I recognize the signs. But I figured she would get over it when she got to know me better. I'm a good teacher and a good forensic scientist, but other than that, I'm boring. Experience has taught me that I can't hold anyone's interest for very long. True, I was with Peter for eight years, but I was just a convenience for him. A warm body in his bed. He couldn't go for two months without cheating on me.
I think she's getting over it. She had a date a while ago with a guy from Search and Rescue. Of course, Catherine and a severed finger interrupted her date. But at least she's out there, trying. She'll get it right.
I seem to keep getting it wrong. I'm averaging about one date a year.
Two years ago, it was Susan, one of the fingerprint lab techs. I took her to this little artsy theatre. They were showing "The Wizard of Oz" synchronized to the music of Pink Floyd.
Well, I thought it was interesting. Apparently, she didn't.
Last year, it was Teri Miller. Now there was an intelligent woman. She's a Forensic Anthropologist. That's a difficult specialty. You have to extremely intelligent person to make it in that field.
I didn't even make it through the first date with her.
And then there's Greg.
I shouldn't have slept with him. I knew I shouldn't have. And I did it twice.
The first time, I had an excuse. I was drunk. How was I supposed to ignore the boy's charms with my inhibitions lowered like that? The next morning was certainly uncomfortable. He seemed just as embarrassed about it as I was. I thought he was bored already. After all, he didn't catch me at my best. Drunken sex is never very good.
But the second time, I wasn't drunk. True, we had just been through an emotional experience and that can make people reckless. I let him get to me again. He asked for just one more time. And I gave in. Really, he didn't have to do too much to convince me. The kiss pretty much did it.
If I had only known. How could I have known? He seemed to be fairly open about his bisexuality. It never occurred to me that he hadn't ever gone all the way with a man. If I had known he was going to give me his virginity, I might not have slept with him. By the time he told me, it was too late to stop. Afterwards, when he looked up at me like that . . .
He thinks he's in love with me. That's understandable. I rescued him from Nick; I took him home and made love to him. That's a lot of emotional upheaval to go through in one day. Of course he thinks he's in love.
He'll get over it.
It's better this way. Better just to walk away from him after a near perfect sexual experience, than to try and make a relationship out of it.
Better that he thinks his love is unrequited than to discover he gave it up for a pathetically dull old man.
Me? I'll be fine. I've had twenty-seven years practice at ignoring my emotions. I'll just try to do what I did after our first night together. I'll be professional and polite. Make sure that he knows that I value his work, that he's an important member of my team.
And I'll just leave all of the personal feelings buried.
Yes, that will work.
