Title: Resolution
Author: Escargoat
Rating: FRAO aka NC-17 but just barely.
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: Nick and Gil deal with the fallout of their tryst.
Author's Note/Warnings: Sequel to my first fic “Guilt”. Set after “You Kill Me” but before “Cockroaches.” Mentions of Grissom/Sara. Mentions of Warrick's drug problem, but nowhere near what CBS actually did to the poor guy. I have no beta, so all mistakes are courtesy of either my fumbling fingers or my general laziness.

Don't ask me how the sequel to a three page fic hit thirty pages. I never intended for it to get this long. 
 
Disclaimer: CSI belongs to CBS and all those fine people that created it, bought the rights to it, etc. I'm obviously not making any money off of this, nor would I want to. 

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick took a deep breath and forced himself through the door. Once inside, it wasn't so bad. The place didn't seem that seedy, not that Nick had ever been inside of a porn shop that he would define as classy. The woman at the counter gave him a cursory glance, seemed to decide he had money, and went back to reading her book. 
 
Forcing one foot in front of the other, he made his way over to the magazines. He could do this, really he could. Because as soon as he managed to convince himself that he was the same heterosexual man that he was before he tongued Grissom, he could commence with the groveling for forgiveness and the promising to never, ever let something like that happen again and the begging to not be demoted for taking advantage of the boss and the… God in heaven, he was going to die of embarrassment. Greg Sander's eyes were peering at him from the other side of the display. 
 
“You know, I'm not Doc Robbins, but I'm pretty sure that if you're not breathing, it's a bad sign,” Greg quipped with a sly grin. 
 
Nick tried to laugh, really he did. It wasn't his fault that it came out sounding like he was choking. That, of course, made Greg's grin even bigger. 
 
“You do realize that the purchase of porn is a pretty common practice among virile males,” Greg commented when he realized that the majority of Nick's blood supply had migrated to his face. 
 
“I…” 
 
“Nick? You aren't going to pass out on me are you?” 
 
“NO! I mean, uh, no man. I'm just, you know, embarrassed.” 
 
“Yeah, I didn't get that from the whole flushed, gasping for air act you were doing,” Greg said as he walked around the end of the display to stand next to Nick. “Ah, dirty magazines. Very old school, but always a good bet. Hey look, the semi-annual Bodacious Lesbian Babes in Lederhosen is out.” 
 
Nick stared at the magazine in Greg's hand. “I don't do homosexual porn,” he commented. 
 
“Well guys normally don't do lesbians. That is the point of buying a magazine. It's the fantasy. Besides they're probably not even real lesbians,” Greg said as he thumbed through the issue. 
 
“Are you supposed to be doing that?” 
 
“Doing what?” 
 
“Reading the magazine before you buy it,” Nick whispered. 
 
“I'm not reading. I'm looking. Besides they really don't care as long as you don't go through the whole magazine or start getting it on in the store.” 
 
Nick nodded in what he hoped was a confident way and stared at the rows of magazines with pictures of women with artificially enhanced breasts preening at him from suggestive positions. Oh God no. They were so not doing it for him. Maybe it was just because of Greg. After all, it is sort of hard to think about sex when one of your best friends is standing right next to you. 
 
“Greg?” 
 
“Yeah?” 
 
“Do you think I'm gay?” Well, okay, that might have been the question on his mind, but it really was not the one he had meant to ask. 
 
“What?”  
 
“It's just, these magazines aren't doing it for me, and…” 
 
“Well does Rock Hard Cocks in Crinolines do it for you?” Greg asked as he pulled the magazine off of the shelf and waggled it in front of Nick's face. 
 
“No,” Nick drawled out very slowly as he tried his best not to back very quickly away. 
 
“Then I'm guessing you aren't gay. Just extremely uncomfortable,” Greg said with a smirk as he placed the issue back on the stand.  
 
“I'd imagine anyone would be uncomfortable to have a coworker standing next to him when he's shopping for porn,” Nick replied a bit testily. 
 
“Well not everyone. You wouldn't be if you were in the adult entertainment business,” Greg responded easily. 
 
“Greg… would you just go somewhere else in the store? Somewhere where I can pretend you're not here?” Nick winced at the pleading tone his voice took on. 
 
“Sure no problem. Hey, if you find anything really good? I'll be over by the body paint.” 
 
Nick counted to fifteen as he listened to Greg walk away. Then he grabbed the first somewhat normal looking porn he could see and hurried to the checkout.  
 
Next time, he was just going to look online. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''' 
 
 
Grissom sighed as he went over the case file in his hand. It was quite the conundrum that he had gotten himself into. Except for handing out cases and getting reports, he really had not seen much of Nick since the incident. Actually, he had only seen Nick when handing out cases. His reports had been mysteriously filing in by way of people who were not Nick. 
 
Then again, that sort of behavior was not surprising when Nick had run away in a fit of revulsion after they'd… 
 
After they had what? Had sex? Fooled around? Made love?  
 
It was definitely not the last one, and he wasn't really sure you could call it real sex when one of the people involved never even got close to having his private areas exposed. Fooled around then? Well they hadn't made love, but it had been more intense than a simple fumble in the backseat of a car.  
 
Gil looked at the case file again. What would a report say if he had to put one together? Homosexual relations. That certainly fit. He had participated in homosexual relations with Nicholas Stokes.  
 
Odd that now that he had defined it he still had no idea what to do about it. He supposed that he could apologize, but he still did not know exactly what it was that he had done wrong. Oh he could list the various reasons why what they had done was wrong. He was Nick's supervisor. He had just been dumped by his fiancée. He had been using Nick as a crutch to help him get over losing his fiancée. Nick was straight. 
 
Gil cocked his head to one side and pondered. Nick really couldn't be all that straight. A couple of drinks after work was nowhere near enough alcohol to cause a grown man to capitulate to undesired sexual contact, and it certainly hadn't been Gil's idea to commence with the licking. Not that he had objected to having Nick's tongue on that part of his anatomy. 
 
“Something wrong?” Catherine's voice interrupted his reverie. 
 
“No. Why do you ask?” 
 
“Because you've got your deep thoughts face on." 
 
“Just reviewing Warrick's latest case,” Grissom responded easily. 
 
“Then you wouldn't mind volunteering to help an old friend move some office furniture?” 
 
“Don't we employ a young CSI by the name of Sanders that could help you with that?” 
 
“Greg went home sick. He stopped and talked to you about it,” Catherine's voice sounded confused. 
 
Gil's eyebrows furrowed. Oh, yes. Greg had looked rather pale earlier. He vaguely remembered the younger man saying something about eating something that disagreed with him and hoping that Nick hadn't bought the same stuff. Gil had not paid attention. He had been too busy trying to read Nick's lips as he bribed Hodges to bring a report to Grissom's office. 
 
“Gil, does this have anything to do with that fight you had with Nicky?” 
 
“I don't remember telling you about a fight with Nick. Why? Did he say we had one?”  
 
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Give me some credit. I've been an investigator for a long time. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that something went down between the two of you. One moment the poor guy is dragging your repressed and depressed shell out to breakfast every Thursday, the next the two of you are avoiding each other like the plague.” 
 
“I'm not depressed,” Gil argued, “and for your information nothing happened. We've just been busy.” 
 
“Right. Okay, I can see you don't want to talk about this with me. But could you at least talk to Nick about it? I'm tired of slipping his reports onto your desk for him.” 
 
“I'm not going to talk to Nick about anything because we didn't have a fight.” 
 
Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine, then could you tell him that he shouldn't be using his coworkers as his personal messengers?” 
 
“I'll talk to him about it,” Gil grudgingly agreed. 
 
“Great,” Catherine replied as she turned to walk away. 
 
“Didn't you need some furniture moved?” Gil called out after her. 
 
“Actually, I think I'll leave it where it's at. You look like you're gonna need some time to figure out what you're going to say to Nick.” 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick sighed as he pushed his vest into his locker. Beside him, Warrick blearily rubbed at his eyes. Nick bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. Warrick looked like shit - had for a while now.  
 
A stab of guilt shot through him. He'd been so obsessed about Grissom lately that he'd been ignoring his best friend. Then again, given how swimmingly helping out Grissom had worked, maybe Nick should just keep his mouth shut and leave Warrick be.  
 
The rattle of pills bouncing around in a small plastic container seared through Nick's ears and into his heart. His parents had raised him better than that. Just because he'd royally messed up with one friend didn't mean that he had the right to abandon another.  
 
“Warrick, man, what're you doing?” Nick spoke in what he hoped was an understanding yet firm voice. Actually, it sounded a heck of a lot like the one Cisco used to use on him when he had done something wrong. 
 
“Going home? I had a bad night man. You see the age of those kids? They were barely old enough to drive.” 
 
“I know, I know. I mean the pills. They aren't good for you. You're getting disoriented, you're groggy…” 
 
“Wait, are you saying I can't do my own job?” Warrick challenged. 
 
“No, no, I'm not saying that at all. I'm just worried. I don't think that those pills are helping anything.” 
 
“I have a prescription, Nick. Are you accusing my doctor of being some sort of drug dealer here, or are you just accusing me of conning my doctor into giving me pills that I don't need?” 
 
“I'm not accusing you of anything. You're not acting like yourself. As your friend, I think I need to voice my concern about this. I don't think those things are helping you anymore.” 
 
“Oh, and you would know? I wasn't aware that I was even on your friend list anymore. Once you got to be all buddy-buddy with Grissom, the rest of us were kind of left to the wolves weren't we?” 
 
“That's not true and you know it,” Nick responded even though he felt very un-manly tears beginning to build. He hadn't expected Warrick to bring up his current sore spot. 
 
“Oh come off it. Everybody knows that Mr. Anti-social got tired of dragging your melodramatic, touchy-feely ass around, and now you're back slumming it with the rest of us.” 
 
“Is something going on here?” Grissom's voice cut through the air. 
 
Nick wanted to curl up and die. Instead he answered, “Nah, it's nothing, Gris.” 
 
“Is that true Warrick?” Grissom's voice was pure supervisor as he asked the question. 
 
Warrick spared a quick glare at Nick before looking back at Grissom. “We're fine.” 
 
“Good. The next time the two of you decide to have a fight, don't have it in the locker room while you're at work. I don't care if you are off the clock. You have a responsibility to this lab to be professionals.” 
 
Nick felt more than heard Grissom walk away. Warrick, on the other hand, Nick heard him stomp away loud and clear. Wearily he rubbed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes in an attempt to stave back the onslaught of emotion that would either end up with him kicking something or crying. 
 
Finally he got himself under control, grabbed his jacket, and left. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''' 
 
Grissom frowned as he measured out dog food into the bowl for Hank. He was not sure what had prompted Nick and Warrick's altercation earlier. What he did know is that his name had somehow gotten involved in it. He couldn't really think of another person that Warrick would refer to as 'Mr. Anti-social.'  
 
Regardless of what had actually started the spat, it was obvious that Gil was going to have to fix his relationship with Nick. Catherine and Warrick had obviously taken notice, and he would be a fool to think that the rest of the lab was going to miss the tension that was between him and his subordinate.  
 
That, of course, ran back to the dilemma of what exactly he was going to say. No matter how he tried to quantify the problem, he kept coming back to the fact that he had no solution. Talking through emotional issues was by no means his forte. He always operated on principles of fact. When looking at the facts gave him no obvious conclusion, he was at a loss of what to do. 
 
That was part of the reason he had decided to have that first breakfast with Nick. He had not been able to get rid of the pain of Sara's leaving by working. He had not been able to use logic to get rid of his own hurt. Grissom had certainly understood Sara's reasons for leaving, but intellectual understanding had afforded him slim comfort. 
 
Unable to get a satisfying result with the small focus of his relationship with Sara, he had broadened his field of research so to speak. Of all of the people in the lab, who was the most resilient? The answer had been painfully obvious. While Catherine had certainly weathered her share of personal tragedies, Nick had by far been the most successful in regaining and retaining his sense of self.  
 
Most people would have had big issues with being stalked. Add to that being kidnapped and buried alive, it was a miracle Nick wasn't a basket case. It couldn't just be the psychologist that had helped Nick. After all, Sara had gone to the same one after she was abducted and the results were nowhere near what Nick's had been. 
 
Obviously there were still a few lingering issues, but the fact remained that Nick had succeeded in reclaiming his life. Grissom had reasoned with himself that the only way to figure out what had enabled Nick to survive was to study the subject first hand. 
 
At first, breakfast had simply been a type of experiment. He had searched for clues on how Nick managed to survive. The only answer Grissom had come up with was that Nick simply cared about his friends and family and allowed them to care for him in return. It was simple, and not something that Gil was sure he could attempt. His psychological makeup was fundamentally different from Nick's. 
 
Still, he found himself asking Nick out again. While his initial study had not given him much to work with, he found that it was a pleasant diversion from work and home and all the Sara induced memories that both places held. At some point it became more than a study. The truth was that he had become accustomed to having another person around.  
 
While he was not and never would be a 'people person,' he did find a certain appeal to having another human around that he could communicate with. That he allowed Nick to do the majority of the communicating was not a concern to Grissom. The point had not been to share. The point had been to be around another living being that cared whether he lived or died. 
 
In hindsight, it had terribly selfish of him to use Nick like that at all. Then again, it had been selfish of him to use Nick's body as a way of forgetting a horrible night, and he didn't need hindsight to know that. He'd known it was a bad idea when he had been doing it. 
 
It had just been so easy to lose himself in the company of a warm and caring face. He had looked into Nick's eyes and seen somebody who cared that Gil Grissom had feelings. The fact that the man was damn gorgeous didn't hurt either. 
 
Gil had never deluded himself on his sexual preferences. He liked people who didn't judge him. He liked people who were intellectually quick, had a strong sense of self, and he liked people who were a bit of a puzzle. Gender, well he'd never much cared one way or the other as far as sex went.  
 
Relationship wise though…  
 
Warrick wasn't wrong when he called Gil 'anti-social.' He was obsessive and could be non-responsive. It took emotional work to be in a relationship, and society tended to dictate that the more emotionally open sex was the female one. Gay or not, most men were raised to be emotionally closed. And the more effeminate ones? Well, Gil certainly did not have any prejudices against them, but at the same time Gil liked anonymity. It's hard to not get noticed when your boyfriend is flamboyant. 
 
So Gil had a preference that his relationships be with women because the relationships just didn't work otherwise. Not that they were stellar successes as it was. 
 
Gil frowned again and looked at his clock. Thirty minutes wasted pondering the dilemma of Nick Stokes, and he still didn't have an answer.  
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick flopped down on his couch in disgust. He certainly hoped that neither Greg nor Catherine had any personal calamities arise. He wasn't sure he could handle destroying yet another relationship. 
 
Angrily he glared at the stack of magazines sitting over in the corner of the room. He knew what was sitting at the bottom of that stack. He also knew that if he pulled it out, it wouldn't do in an hour what one thought about Grissom on that couch would do to him instantly. 
 
How in the world had he gone through thirty plus years of life and not known that he had a queer tendency? Even if he had been lying to himself about his urges, why had his little trip into gaydom chosen his emotionally vulnerable boss as its target destination? 
 
Because he'd wanted to be close to Grissom for years, Nick's helpful mind supplied. Wasn't that why he had chosen Las Vegas? Because he wanted to work with Grissom? 
 
Oddly enough, another part of him was outraged with that thought. It sounded suspiciously like he was equating his homosexual leanings to being the reason he had taken advantage of Grissom. And that just wasn't right. A person's sexual gender preference doesn't make that person a sexual predator.  
 
Which brought him back to the fact that taking advantage of Grissom was the result of a character flaw that had somehow crept in unnoticed by his ever vigilant good-guy persona. Nick had allowed some manipulative part of him to fester inside. He knew he had to have because there was no other reason for his actions.  
 
Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished his parents hadn't raised him to be quite so honest because right now, it really sucked.  
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''' 
 
Slow, slow steps dragged Nick's body forward. He did not want to go into the locker room. It was the end of his shift though, and his cases for the night were wrapped up. Grissom had mercifully assigned him to work an arson scene with Catherine, so he had managed to avoid Warrick all night.  
 
But now, now he had to go in there to put away his work clothes and call it a day. And he just knew Warrick was in there. On some intellectual level, Nick knew that his friend didn't really hate him. That, however, was cold comfort when Nick himself hated Nick. 
 
Glumly, he made his way to his locker and managed to open it without making eye contact with anybody else in the room. Thankfully Greg was regaling Catherine with tales of his last case, so the stony silence from Warrick's direction was not as palpable. 
 
Deep breaths Nick, he coached himself. Put away your vest. Pull out your jacket. Put your right arm in. Good. Now your left arm. You're almost free… 
 
“So Gris, I see they delivered a new book series to your office tonight. You going home to peruse the latest in technical journals?” Greg asked in his chipper tone. 
 
Grissom? Shit. Nick had been so preoccupied with avoiding Warrick that he hadn't even noticed that Grissom was standing in front of his own locker. Why was he there anyway? The last Nick had heard, his supervisor had gone back to his excessive work pattern. 
 
“It's Thursday, Greg,” Grissom simply responded. 
 
Nick couldn't help but sneak a look at the older man. In the process he noticed that Warrick, Catherine and Greg were also looking at Grissom. The man himself looked completely calm and at ease, which was nice because the rest of the people in the room were confused.  
 
Nick tried not to swallow when the focus of the room all at once shifted from Grissom to him. His first instinct was to blush and try to curl up in a corner somewhere. Logic thankfully corrected that because there was no way on earth that Grissom had told anybody what had happened. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but he had no idea what to actually say. It wasn't like Grissom had said anything definitive. Heck, for all Nick knew the man had been going out to breakfast on Thursdays for years and just never told anybody. 
 
“So you're going out to breakfast then?” Warrick was the one who finally voiced the question. 
 
“Of course I am. It's Nick's turn to buy. Oh, I have to run an errand first, so I'm going to be running a bit late. Would you mind ordering for me?” 
 
It took Nick's mind a moment to process that the last part of the sentence was directed at him. When it did register, he managed to croak out a feeble, “Yeah sure.” 
 
“Great, I'll see you in a bit then. The rest of you have a good day,” Grissom said as he closed his locker door and walked out of the room.  
 
“You two finally make up?” Catherine asked. 
 
Nick didn't know what to say to that, so he simply smiled, shook his head, and hightailed it out of the building. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''' 
 
It took Gil's eyes a moment to find Nick in the restaurant, and it wasn't because it was busy. It was because Nick was slumped far down in a corner booth that was butted up against the back wall. It was a place that Grissom would've chosen had he been the first to the restaurant. The affable Nick would normally have chosen the booth that had the easiest trip for the waitress. 
 
Nick did not glance up when Gil slid into the other side of the booth. He seemed very intent on stirring sugar into his coffee.  
 
“So,” he finally said when it became apparent that Gil was not going to be the first person to say something. 
 
“So,” Gil echoed.  
 
Nick smiled a tiny bit. “I said it first.” 
 
They fell silent again, and Gil watched Nick put sugar in his coffee. Packet after packet after packet went into the small stoneware mug.  
 
“Are you trying to attract ants, or just give yourself cavities?” Gil finally asked after Nick opened his tenth packet. 
 
“I'm just, I… Why are we here?” 
 
“I thought that was obvious. We obviously cannot discuss what happened when we're at work, and our respective residences would be too emotionally charged.” 
 
“You want to discuss it in public?” Nick squeaked. 
 
“Would you rather I rent a hotel room?” 
 
Nick took a swig of his coffee in lieu of an actual response. Gil expected him to choke on it or make a face. Amazingly, Nick swallowed and did not even seem to notice the taste. 
 
“I'm sorry Gris,” he mumbled. 
 
Grissom tilted his head to one side. “Sorry for what?” 
 
Nick's shocked eyes finally lifted up off of his coffee. “For, for, you know,” he whispered before shamefully lowering his eyes back down. 
 
Grissom chose not to respond. In characteristic Nick fashion, it was not long before the younger man felt the need to fill the silence. 
 
“I don't, I don't want you to think that I'm that kind of guy. I didn't mean to do what I did. If I'd known that this was how it was going to end up, I would never have tried to help. I swear.” 
 
Gil felt oddly disappointed by Nick's rambling apology. Logically he should not have because he was expecting a declaration of continued heterosexuality after the way Nick had scrambled away in revulsion. Still, it hurt in some abstract way. 
 
“Nick, we're both adults. While I appreciate your attempts to apologize, I am still partially responsible for what happened.” 
 
“No, don't. Don't take responsibility for it. I did it. I was the one who,” Nick stopped and took a deep breath, “I was the one who took advantage of you. You don't have to try to make me feel better.” 
 
Before Grissom could formulate a reply, the waitress came with their food. Gil didn't touch his. Instead he watched as Nick pushed food around his plate. 
 
“You know, I think I'm insulted,” Gil declared. 
 
Nick glanced up with his oh so guilt ridden eyes. “Why?” 
 
“Because you just insinuated that I let myself be manipulated by my subordinate.” 
 
“No, Gris, I didn't mean that you…” 
 
“Nick, be quiet. If I recall correctly it was my idea to ask you over, and it was my idea to kiss you as soon as I got you through my door. While I am not as physically fit as you are, I am fully capable of extricating myself from an unwanted sexual encounter. And I'm several years past the age of consent.” 
 
Nick shook his head. “I'm not saying I physically forced you. I'm saying that I took emotional advantage of you. You were hurting, I knew it. Instead of getting up and doing the right thing I, I… damn. Look, I performed an oral sex act on a friend who is in love with another friend. You don't get much lower than that unless you do commit a criminal activity.” 
 
“It was my choice though. Whether you like it or not, I wanted what happened to happen. I'm not going to lie to you and say that I don't still love Sara. But I don't know if she's ever coming back. I don't know if she knows if she's ever coming back. I'm not saying that what you and I did was right. What I am saying is that at that moment, I wanted to be with you. I dislike this awkwardness between us. I miss you. I miss you rambling on about nothing at breakfast, and I miss you trying to put me in a better mood. I miss you caring about me.” 
 
Nick stared at him for a moment. “You just shared,” he accused quietly. 
 
“I suppose that is your influence on me. If you want to feel guilty about something, I suggest you feel guilty about that.” 
 
Nick took a bite of his food and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. Gil seemed to take that as sign that the conversation was over and took a bite of his own breakfast. Nick watched as the other man's jaw worked to chew. He watched as Grissom swallowed. 
 
“I never, I uh, never did it with another guy before,” Nick heard himself admit out of the blue. 
 
“I surmised as much when you ran out like my living room was on fire,” Gil commented in a non-committal tone. 
 
“Oh, um, that wasn't because of that.” 
 
“Really?” 
 
“Yeah, that was that thing you told me not to feel guilty about.” 
 
“You ran out on me because you felt like you had taken advantage of me, not because you were terrified that you had performed an oral sex act on another man?” 
 
“At the time, yeah. The whole terror about being gay happened after I got home and threw up.” 
 
“Nick, you tend to over share sometimes.” 
 
Nick nodded and went back to working on his breakfast. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''' 
 
Warrick sighed as he sat on his best friend's doorstep. How long did it take to eat breakfast anyway? Finally he saw Nick pull up and get out of his vehicle. 
 
“Hey,” Nick said in a friendly tone. 
 
“Hey,” Warrick responded in a far more stressed one. 
 
“You wanna come in?” Nick asked as he moved around Warrick to open up his house. 
 
“Sure.” 
 
They walked inside and Nick tossed his keys in their customary place. Warrick fidgeted.  
 
“Look, Nick, about that fight. I didn't mean some of the things I said. About you and Gris and all that. I lost my temper. It's just with Sara leaving, I already lost one friend. Then it's like, I dunno, it's like you and Gris are pals all of sudden. I guess I got a little jealous.” 
 
“I don't know that I'd call us pals, Rick.” 
 
“Oh? And who else is he taking out after work every week?” The teasing tone that Warrick used took any sting out of the words. 
 
“Maybe he's trying to seduce me,” Nick replied in the same teasing tone. He wasn't prepared for the tingle of desire that shot through him at that thought. Was that what he wanted?  
 
Warrick's howl of laughter kept Nick's mind from sliding any farther down that path. 
 
“Oh man, can you see Grissom trying to seduce anybody? He'd probably buy chocolate covered crickets for Valentine's Day and then wonder why his paramour was upset.” 
 
“He seemed to do okay with Sara,” Nick pointed out. 
 
“Oh, yeah, like he did any of the work there. Sara was after him for years, you know that.” 
 
“I suppose you're right,” Nick conceded. 
 
Warrick nodded then cleared his throat. “Look Nick, those things you said. I've been thinking about it. And while I'm not saying that I'm addicted or anything, I do realize that you might be right to be concerned. I've had a tough time lately, you know? But I do realize that a couple of pills isn't going to fix everything.” 
 
“I'm not saying that you aren't having a tough time. I just, I don't want you to go so far that you can't deal without those pills. You aren't the only one who lost a friend recently. I don't want to lose another. Not when I can stop it anyway.” 
 
“If it'll make you feel better, I'll talk to my doctor again. See if he still thinks that I need them. Maybe he can recommend something that isn't as strong,” Warrick offered. 
 
Nick nodded. “Yeah that would make me feel better.” 
 
They were silent for a couple minutes before Warrick spoke again, “Hey Nick, do you think that chocolate covered crickets would be poisonous?” 

Grissom thrummed his fingers against his desk as he looked at the request in front of him. A triple homicide in Iowa had some unusual bug growth on one of the bodies. Could he possibly come out and look at it? 
 
It wasn't as though he wasn't tempted to go. Unusual and bugs in the same sentence was bait that he hated to pass up. Still, his normal dog handler was out of town for an Alaskan cruise. The insects were fairly easy to take care of for the short amount of time that he'd be gone, but a dog? Dogs required walking and attention and all those things that he hadn't had to worry about before because Sara had been around. 
 
Catherine would probably be irritated enough with him leaving her in charge on short notice, and Brass didn't strike him as the dog sitting type. He wondered if he could ask Nick to do it for him.  
 
Things had improved between the two of them since they'd resumed their breakfast routine, but there was still an odd tension. He really shouldn't ask. On the other hand, Nick had talked about the family dogs with a certain fondness, and Gil really wanted to see what was so unusual about the bugs on the corpse in Iowa. 
 
Nick capitulated faster than Gil thought he would. 
 
“Sure, I'll take care of him,” had been his exact response. 
 
That was what brought Nick to be standing inside of Gil's apartment for the first time since the incident had occurred.  
 
“Nick, this is Hank. Hank, Nick,” Gil introduced them feeling slightly foolish. 
 
Nick simply grinned at the dog and held out a treat. “Hey boy,” he called in a sing-song drawl. Hank trotted over immediately. Within a couple minutes, Nick went from scratching the dog's ears to rubbing his belly. Something within Gil felt strangely jealous. 
 
“So, where was he the, um, last time I was here,” Nick asked while his eyes were still focused on the dog he was petting. 
 
“I usually have a dog handler on call for when I have to work over. I gave her a call when I knew we were going out for drinks.” 
 
“I see. So why 'Hank'?” 
 
“I liked the name,” Gil replied. 
 
“So it has nothing to do with Sara's ex-boyfriend?” 
 
“What ex-boyfriend?” 
 
“The paramedic she met over a lovely decomp scene.” 
 
Grissom shook his head. 
 
“You know, the one who moved the bra in a life saving effort on that girl that the movie star murdered.” 
 
“Oh him. No. At least, not consciously. Although, I suppose I could have done it in a subconscious effort to marginalize her previous love affairs.” 
 
“Too bad, it would've been an interesting story if you had. Hey, you need me to take care of anything else while you're gone? Your bugs or anything?” 
 
“Are you volunteering to feed my ants?” 
 
“Depends, are they red?” 
 
Gil smiled at Nick's attempt to hide the waver in his voice with a jovial tone. 
 
“No, they're black. And no, you don't have to take care of them. I've already got that covered.” 
 
Nick exhaled. “Good, because those things still creep me out. I had ants in kitchen the other day. I almost freaked.” 
 
Grissom froze in the middle of packing up supplies for Hank. 
 
“Did you call an exterminator?” 
 
“No. Why would I do that? Exterminators are expensive.” 
 
“You killed them yourself?” 
 
“Grissom, take a deep breath. My little ant colony is still alive and well in my backyard somewhere. If you want, you can go say hello when you pick up Hank. And before you ask, I used a vinegar solution to keep them away.” 
 
“Vinegar?” 
 
“Grandma Stokes used to swear by it,” Nick replied with an emphatic nod of his head. 
 
Gil smiled a little abashedly. “Sorry.” 
 
“Yeah, well don't worry about it. Hey, look, here's my spare key and my alarm code. If I'm not home when you get back from your trip, feel free to pick Hank here up.” 
 
“Thank you for doing this for me,” Grissom said as he took the key from Nick's hand. 
 
“Hey, that's what friends are for right? Have a good trip Gris,” Nick said. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''' 
 
Grissom felt a twinge of disappointment as he strode up Nick's walk. It appeared that he wasn't home. The trip to Iowa had not lasted all that long, but during the times that Gil had been forced out of a lab and into a hotel room, he had felt lonely. The feeling had been utterly ridiculous because his normal life pretty much followed the same pattern of work and sleep. Still it would have been nice to see Nick's familiar face. 
 
Gil shook his head as he put in the alarm code and unlocked the door. He was being emotional for no good reason.  
 
Once inside, he was surprised that Hank didn't come bounding to see him. Maybe Nick had taken the dog somewhere. 
 
With quiet steps, Gil inched his way into the house. It felt suspiciously like something he shouldn't be doing, but he did it anyway. A soft whine greeted him from Nick's living room. Gil walked towards the sound.  
 
The television was on mute, but the picture showed that it was on some sort of sports channel. Nick was asleep on the couch in what appeared to be a highly uncomfortable position, and Hank was on the floor happily licking at the bottom of a bowl. If Grissom were the gambling sort, he'd bet that the bowl was never supposed to end up in Hank's possession and that the bowl had at one point contained junk food. 
 
Hank was oblivious to his master's disapproval of his eating habits as he rose to greet Gil properly. Begrudgingly Gil felt his mouth quirk into a smile at the sight of the frantically wagging tail. 
 
“Gris?” Nick's groggy voice drove all thoughts of reprimanding Hank out of Gil's head. 
 
Damn but he wished that another type of tail was going to be wagging at him soon. Pushing down the unwanted impulse, Gil walked over and shut Nick's television off.  
 
“What time is it?” Nick blearily asked as he sat up from his reclined position. 
 
“Time for you to sleep,” Gil responded as he bent over to pick the aforementioned bowl off of the floor. 
 
Nick stared at the bowl. “I think that was full when I fell asleep.” 
 
“I'm sure it was,” Gil responded. 
 
“Your dog is a junk food addict, Gil,” Nick muttered as his eyes started to close again. 
 
“My dog is nothing of the sort, and you need to go to bed,” Grissom responded as he grabbed Nick's wrist and tugged the younger man to his feet. 
 
“Mmm, you're wearing cologne. You never wear cologne,” Nick noted as he bumped against Grissom on his way off the couch. 
 
“Nick, were you drinking earlier?” 
 
“What? No, no I just had to work a double. Don't worry though, I stopped by and took care of Hank between cases. He's a good dog, very friendly. He's a real bed hog though. He likes to steal the covers.” 
 
“You let him sleep with you?” 
 
“'Course,” Nick responded with a distinct 'duh' sound in his sleepy voice. 
 
“Nick, I gave you his dog bed for a reason.” 
 
“Man Gris, you're starting to remind me of Cisco. Only you're much better looking, and we're not related.” 
 
“Thank you for telling me that I'm like your father to you. Would you mind going to bed before you fall asleep on your feet?” 
 
“Aw, you're not like my father, Gris. I ain't never wanted to give Cisco a blow job.” 
 
Gil's eyes shot open. “Nick, are you sure you only worked a double? Are you certain you didn't have something to drink when you came home?” 
 
“No, I didn't have anything to drink. But it might've been more than I double. I remember seeing all three shifts. I think I remember bribing Greg to walk the dog somewhere in there,” Nick mumbled as he sagged against Grissom. 
 
Gil sighed and started guiding Nick towards the bedroom. 
 
“Catherine wouldn't let me drive home,” Nick continued to babble against Grissom's chest. 
 
“For good reason,” Grissom responded. 
 
“God, you smell almost as good as you taste,” Nick commented as he nuzzled against the chest that was supporting him. 
 
Grissom all but dumped Nick onto the bed. “I'll come by later to pick up Hank's things,” he said before he swiftly left the room. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''' 
 
“Jim, if you wanted to ask somebody out on a date, how would you do it?” Gil asked as he took snapshots of the latest crime scene. 
 
“I don't know. I'd probably have to ask her if she's okay with dating a detective who works nights, has a hooker for a daughter, and oh yeah, killed somebody in a friendly fire incident. I'm guessing after that, she wouldn't want the date. Why do you ask? You thinking of moving on?” 
 
“Maybe, call it research.” 
 
“It's not Catherine is it?” 
 
“No, it isn't Catherine,” Gil answered as he pulled a pair of tweezers out. 
 
“Just checking. I don't know, maybe I'd send her some flowers with a note. Girls love flowers. Why don't you ask Nick? I hear he's quite a hit with the ladies.” 
 
Gil shifted uncomfortably. “Nick isn't fifty-something,” he replied. 
 
“Well then, I guess I'd go with the flowers.” 
 
“Aren't flowers a bit much for asking for a date? Aren't they more of a tool to use once you're actually dating?” 
 
“At our age Gil, we need all the help we can get.” 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick rubbed his eyes as he took another swig of coffee. He barely remembered his last shift. Heck, he barely remembered anything before his alarm went off announcing that he had to get up for work. He vaguely recalled Grissom picking up his dog and half a conversation about his father. He hoped he didn't say anything too embarrassing. 
 
“How're you holding up Nicky?” Catherine asked from the doorway to the break room. 
 
“Good, I stole some of the coffee from the officer's pot.” 
 
Catherine smirked, “I thought you would have stolen it from Greg.” 
 
“Greg's coffee is for when you want to taste good coffee. You want to stay awake; you drink what the police make.” 
 
“Well finish your swill and get a move on. Grissom wants to talk to you.” 
 
Tossing back the last of his coffee, Nick got up and walked to the supervisor's office. 
 
“Close the door and sit down, Nick,” Grissom directed. 
 
Nick complied and waited. 
 
“You let my dog sleep with you.” 
 
“Oh, well, you know. He was lonely, and you didn't say he wasn't allowed up on the bed.” 
 
“Do you know how long it's going to take to train him to sleep on the floor again?” 
 
“Sorry?” 
 
“You don't sound very sorry.” 
 
“Look Gris, if you called me in here to talk about your…” 
 
“Have dinner with me,” Gil cut him off. 
 
“What?” Nick swore his voice hadn't cracked like that since he'd gone through puberty. 
 
“Have dinner with me on Saturday. We're both off.” 
 
“Are you asking me out on a date?” 
 
“Would you bother you if I was?” 
 
“I, well, Sara…” 
 
“This isn't about me and Sara. This is about you and me.” 
 
“Oh, well in that case. Yeah, I guess I'd like that.” 
 
“Good, I'll pick you up. I'll let you know what time when I confirm the reservations.” 
 
Nick sat there silent for a moment. 
 
“That was it,” Gil informed him. 
 
Shaking his head, Nick rose from the chair. Then he laughed. 
 
“Is something amusing?” 
 
“Yes, yes there is. Warrick can be right about the weirdest things,” Nick replied. With that, he left the room without giving any further explanation. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick forced himself to breath deeply. Absently he rubbed his sweaty palms on his slacks and checked the clock again. There was still fifteen minutes to go. Agreeing to the date was an insane thing to do, and Nick had only his hormones to blame. 
 
Oh, he liked Grissom as a person, and being around the man made Nick happy for some strange reason. But Nick didn't like to lie to himself. He might not be flag carrying, pride marching gay, but he had a thing for Grissom that had nothing at all to do with the entomologist's brain. It had everything to do with how the man looked, smelled, felt and tasted. Especially the tasted part, Nick ruefully reminded himself. 
 
When the subject of the majority of his latest wet dreams asked him out on a date? Well, his hormones had short circuited his logic center and said yes. It was a bad idea to date the boss. Nick knew that. Hell the whole world's working populace knew that. 
 
Despite that fact, Nick caught himself preening in his mirror for the fifth time. Grissom was a details man, and Nick fully intended to look his best. A funny feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He was trying to look good for another man. The thought made him feel excited and dirty at the same time.  
 
Mercifully the doorbell rang before he could analyze the feeling in greater detail. 
 
“Hi,” Grissom said when Nick cracked open the door. 
 
“Hey,” Nick replied as he felt a silly grin starting to tug at the edges of his mouth. 
 
“I realize I'm a bit early. I hope I'm not interrupting your process of getting ready.” 
 
“Nah, I'm just about ready. Just have to grab my jacket and keys.” 
 
Grissom nodded his head in a jerky motion. “Good, good. You look, good that is. I, uh, I'm a bit nervous.” 
 
Grissom was nervous? Oh, that did not bode well. Grissom was supposed to be the one who was suave and knew what he was doing. Nick took another deep breath to calm his mild panic and a different scent wafted over his senses. Grissom was wearing cologne, and whatever it was smelled fantastic on him. 
 
“Nick? Are you okay?” 
 
“Yeah, I'm fine. You just, um,” Nick ducked his head as he pretended to be looking for his keys. What was he going to say, “You smell great”? 
 
“I what?” 
 
“Your cologne, it smells good. I'm just not used to you wearing any I guess,” Nick managed to say. 
 
“Thank you. I thought you might appreciate it,” Grissom responded with a wry grin that Nick didn't quite understand. 
 
“Okay then. I've got my keys, so why don't we go?” Nick said as he grabbed his jacket and moved towards the door. 
 
The ride to the restaurant was riddled with painful small talk coming from Nick's side of the vehicle. They went in, sat down, and it all felt terribly similar to the first breakfast they had shared after the incident, only this time Nick was rambling instead of pouring sugars into his coffee. 
 
“Nick,” Gil suddenly interrupted Nick's latest story about his young nephew Raymond. 
 
“Yeah, Gris?” 
 
“You can call me Gil you know. We are on a date.” 
 
“Sorry, Gil, I got it,” Nick's head bobbed up and down nervously as he spoke. 
 
“That's not what I was going to say. I,” Gil paused for a moment, “I got a package from Sara today. She's in Italy attending a science seminar on something. She sent me this,” Gil produced a small box and handed it to Nick. 
 
With a small amount of trepidation, Nick took the box and opened it. He felt the breath in his chest freeze when he realized that there was a ring box inside of the slightly larger cardboard one. Unwanted tears came to his eyes. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to be with Gil until the chance was being taken away from him. If Sara had sent a ring to Gil, that meant she was going to be coming back. Nick knew that Gil would take her. After all, Grissom loved her so much that the hole she left had caused him to seek out social interaction. 
 
Masochistically, Nick opened the ring box. He frowned in puzzlement when he saw that it was a woman's ring nestled inside, not a man's. 
 
“She sent you a ring to give to her?” 
 
“I had proposed to Sara. I gave that ring to her so that she could start wearing it when she felt the time was right to let everyone know that we were getting married. I'm assuming that its return means I'm no longer engaged. Although I must admit that I had already assumed that.” 
 
Oh. Nick wasn't sure whether that was better or worse. 
 
“You were engaged?”  
 
“Yes, I was.” 
 
“Grissom, I want, I can't… I won't be the rebound guy,” Nick said as he pushed the ring back across the table. 
 
“I don't want you to be the rebound guy. I just want you to be mine,” Gil responded with a quiet and intense voice. 
 
Nick felt his heart and his eyebrows jump at the same time. “You just got disengaged from Sara, and you want to jump into another relationship?” 
 
“Are you sure that 'disengaged' is the right word to use there?” 
 
“Don't avoid my question!” Nick hissed. 
 
“I already told you that I assumed our understanding with each other had come to an end. I simply see this as physical confirmation that I'm free to do as I please with my relationships.” 
 
“You had sex with me when you were engaged to Sara?” Nick squeaked out. 
 
“Nick, you seem to be having troubles moving past that concept.” 
 
“Of course I'm having troubles. That makes me like, like the other woman!” 
 
“I could take this moment to point out that you are most definitely not a woman, but I'll tell you something else instead. I was very committed to Sara. But there were parts of our relationship that didn't work. You know that there is a part of her that is fractured for lack of a better term. She couldn't deal with that part of her, and she couldn't let me help her deal with it. It is why I didn't go after her. Whatever she needs, I can't give to her. I'm not the type of guy she needs. The ring, it's just evidence, Nick. The act itself had already happened long before I opened my mail.” 
 
“What makes you think that you're the type of guy I need?” 
 
“I don't,” Gil honestly answered, “I figure that you can make that determination yourself. I just know that you are the type of guy that I need.” 
 
“So you want to be with me because you need me to fix you?” Nick tried not to sound heartbroken as he pushed the words out of his mouth. 
 
“No, I want to be with you because you compliment me. I need your understanding and your forgiveness. I need your affability and your sensitivity. Once I looked at it from a logical standpoint, it made sense. I realize the timing on this isn't good, but I don't want to risk losing you to somebody else while I'm waiting for an appropriate amount of time to pass.” 
 
“So you asked me out on a date because we're compatible?” 
 
“No, I asked you out on a date because you said that I smelled good and you wanted to give me a blow job. I took that as a good indication that you were not adverse to exploring an intimate relationship with me.” 
 
Nick looked scandalized. “I don't remember saying any such thing.” 
 
“You were half awake. Most of the conversation was probably amalgamated back into your dreams.” 
 
“I don't get you, Grissom. I mean, this is all kind of strange. You're in love, engaged even, to a woman, and she leaves you. Then I try to help and we end up fornicating on your couch. Now you want to… if the whole timing of this doesn't bother you, why doesn't the fact that I'm a man?” 
 
“Why should it bother me? There are theories out there that say that the majority of people are neither completely gay nor completely straight. They claim that attraction is more of a continuum between the two. And I believe that 'getting' someone is the entire purpose of dating is it not?” 
 
Nick shifted in his seat and asked, “Why are we always having difficult conversations in restaurants?” 
 
“Because you'd probably faint if I asked you over to my place,” Gil responded in what sounded like a teasing tone. 
 
“Gris, teasing, it just doesn't work for you.” 
 
“Why Mr. Stokes, are you trying to hem me in with your expectations of me?” Gil continued his teasing lilt as he slid his hand stealthily across the table linen to rest close to Nick's. 
 
“I didn't mean that. I just, I,” Nick trailed off when he felt a hand interlace its fingers with his own. 
 
“I thought I asked you to call me Gil,” Grissom said as he changed his grasp on Nick's hand and gently tugged on it. Nick shifted forward to allow the movement and stared in fascination as Grissom placed a kiss on the palm of Nick's hand. Grissom was kissing him, in public, for the whole world to see. 
 
Okay, maybe not the whole world. They were in a dimly lit corner booth, and their waiter seemed to still be trying to take care of an irascible table of twelve, and really there was nobody else around.  
 
“Gil,” Nick tried the name out. His voice was much throatier than he intended it to be. 
 
“Yes Nick?” 
 
“We should really take a look at the menu before the waiter comes back.” 
 
“Yes, we should.” 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''' 
 
The average American couple has sex on the third date. Nick remembered reading that somewhere. He hadn't bothered to check the veracity of the statement, but it did bring up an interesting conundrum. Did that mean his thing with Grissom was way ahead of the curve or way behind? If you counted all the times they'd gone out to breakfast as dates, then they were incredibly slow. But those hadn't been dates really. If you didn't count them, then statistically Nick really shouldn't be standing next to Gil waiting for the older man to open the door to his domicile. Of course, they'd already been carnal with each other, so that made the entire debate pointless. 
 
Not that they were necessarily going to do anything once they got inside.  
 
And for the record, yes Nick did still believe in Santa Claus. He was an actual, documented, historical figure.  
 
The door swung open, and Nick felt a hand on the small of his back ushering him through. It was odd sensation, but a good one. 
 
A happy, non-human whine notified Nick that Hank was not at the dog sitter's tonight. He wasn't sure if that meant that Grissom had been unsure of being able to get Nick to come over, or if the man had simply not wanted to leave the dog with his dog sitter. 
 
What Nick was sure of was that Grissom seemed put out when Hank immediately bypassed him and went straight for Nick. 
 
“Hey, boy, how ya doing,” Nick drawled as Hank sat down in front of him waiting to have his ears scratched. 
 
“You've corrupted my dog.” 
 
“Aw, don't pout. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll corrupt you too,” Nick responded. It took Nick about half a second to realize that he had just full out flirted. How on earth had he gone from being bewildered at the restaurant to flirting? Hadn't he been the one accusing Grissom on moving too fast? 
 
“Is that a threat or a promise?” 
 
“Wouldn't you like to know?”  
 
“You know I would.” 
 
Nick felt his eyes widen and his pulse quicken, and he just knew that blood was flowing south and getting trapped in his reproductive organs.  
 
“I have to walk the dog first though,” Gil said with regret as he moved towards where he kept the leash. 
 
“Why don't I do that for you? I mean, you can put the coffee on and stuff,” Nick babbled. 
 
Grissom smiled at him and handed him the leash and a bag. “And you wonder why I like you.” 
 
“If dog poop was the worst thing I ever had to smell or touch, I'd be a happy man.” 
 
Grissom mechanically made coffee while Nick made good on his offer to walk Hank. He didn't really want any coffee, and he doubted Nick wanted any either. Still he didn't have much else to do except for worry. What if this whole thing didn't work out? He realized that it was slightly insane to be going after Nick at all.  
 
The man was his subordinate, and Gil had already gotten into trouble for having a romantic relationship with one of his employees. Nick had never had a relationship with another man. Grissom had a poor track record of being able to retain a long term lover. He'd just gotten out of a serious relationship. Homosexuality was not exactly seen in a favorable light, even in Las Vegas. 
 
Grissom shook his head. The list had grown longer instead of shorter, yet he could not bring himself to care. It was a miracle in and of itself that Nick had never been married. Good looking, successful, well mannered, educated, and loves weddings, dogs and children: Nick was a walking romance novel hero waiting for a damsel to come sweep him off his feet. 
 
Grissom would hang himself before he walked away and let Nick fall prey to some vapid woman's charms. It was too soon, he realized that, but chances at happiness don't exactly come calling all that often, especially when your job revolves around the most unhappy of circumstances.  
 
He could have chosen to let it rest. He could have waited for a while, but the longer you let something wait, the more factors that can influence a decision. Nick could choose to rebury his physical attraction to Gil, Nick could meet somebody else, or given Nick's luck he could have yet another gun drawn on him. None of those were possibilities that Gil wanted to take a gamble on. 
 
“Who's the good dog?” Nick's chipper voice announced his return. 
 
Grissom put on his best frown. “Is this what you're like around your nieces and nephews?” 
 
Nick turned on a superior smile and said, “Of course not, Momma would kill me if I called any of her grandchildren dogs.” 
 
“I made coffee,” Grissom tried to attempt small talk. 
 
“Really?” 
 
“You sound surprised.” 
 
“Well, when you invited me over for coffee, I kinda thought you didn't mean coffee, you know?” 
 
“What did you think I meant?” 
 
Nick flushed slightly and looked down at the floor. Gil took a breath and cupped Nick's chin in his palm. Oh so gently, he tilted that chin upwards and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on the side of Nick's mouth. 
 
“That wasn't what I thought either,” Nick whispered. 
 
“Why don't you show me what you thought?” Gil whispered back. 
 
Nick swallowed once. Then he licked his lips and blew a stream of air out of them. He placed his lips against Gil's. It was sweet. Even though it wasn't their first kiss, it was somehow better than the more carnal ones they had shared the first time that they were together. It didn't carry with it the taint of lost love and dead bodies. 
 
Of course, carnal was much more fun.  
 
“Gil, tell me this is okay,” Nick requested as he pulled his lips away. 
 
“I'll tell you if you do something that isn't,” Gil tried to reassure him. 
 
“No, I mean, tell me it's okay to want this. Tell me it's okay to want to be with you like this. Tell me I'm not crazy to want to touch you.” 
 
Gil shook his head. “You sound like a wilting flower in a romance. You don't need me to tell you what is okay, Nick. You already know.” 
 
Nick laughed. “You're right, you're right I do.” 
 
The next kiss involved much more suction and added a tongue to up the ante.  
 
“Oh, that was so good,” Nick mewled as he detached his mouth. 
 
“Mmm,” was all Gil said in response before he began to map Nick's jaw line with short nips and kisses. 
 
“Gris, I think you'd better turn the coffee pot off before you forget.” 
 
“I'm busy, my coffee pot has an automatic shut-off, and my name is Gil.” 
 
“Not after you called me a wilting flower it isn't. I might let you in my pants, but I gotta keep some pride.” 
 
“Is that what you're going to do Nicky? Let me in your pants?” 
 
Nick's hips involuntarily thrust forward at the lust filled tone that Gil used. 
 
“I'm shocked at your behavior,” Gil murmured as he bent his head to start mouthing Nick's neck and slid his hands down to start fondling more delectable areas. That ass felt just like he remembered it.  
 
“Grissom, you better offer me a horizontal surface pretty soon, 'cause I am not getting it on with you against the nearest wall.” 
 
Gil frowned. He must be losing his touch if Nick was still coherent, or maybe he'd just trained his people to be too focused, and this was fate's way of laughing at him. 
 
“The bedroom is this way,” he said as he grabbed Nick's hand and propelled the two of them along. 
 
Once they got to their destination, Gil pushed Nick down onto the bed then enjoyed the moment of confusion on Nick's face when Gil chose not to follow. Instead he turned around and walked back to the door. 
 
“Where are you goin?” Nick sounded plaintive. 
 
“I'm going to close my bedroom door. Somebody taught Hank to sleep on human beds, and I don't want him coming in here while I'm ravaging my wilting flower.” 
 
Nick frowned. There was absolutely no way he was going to give Grissom the outraged response he was so obviously trying to provoke.  
 
“Don't know man, you might have to work on your powers of observation. My flower isn't anywhere near wilting at the moment.” 
 
Grissom closed the door and turned to eye Nick lustfully. He wandered back over to the bed, reached down, and grabbed Nick's waistband. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his thumb over the button.  
 
“You know, I didn't even get to see it last time.” 
 
Nick swallowed. “I know. I'm not usually that, uh, easy.” 
 
“Why don't you make it up to me?” 
 
Nick leaned up and threaded his fingers into Gil's hair. He pushed his mouth against the older man's.  
 
Gil popped the button on Nick's slacks. 
 
“Yes,” Nick heard himself whisper as Gil pulled the zipper down. 
 
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''' 
 
Nick felt strange when he woke up. It was nighttime; he shouldn't sleeping. The sheets were too crisp. He frowned. Why did his hip feel wet? For that matter, why did his mouth taste funky? Oh, that was right. He'd given his boss a rather amateur blow job, and gotten rather skillfully jerked off in return. 
 
He'd enjoyed it, a lot, so had Grissom.  
 
Gently Nick rolled over to look at the man who had fallen asleep beside him. He let his eyes wander over Gil for a moment and allowed himself to look at his bed partner as he would any girlfriend. God, he was attractive. 
 
He had a nice cock too. 
 
Nick smiled at the thought. With just the two of them, it had been easy to allow the desire to touch and feel take over his own conceptions of what he should want in a bedmate. 
 
“I must be getting old,” Gil's observed. 
 
Nick's startled eyes focused on his new lover's face. 
 
“There was a time that I could've screwed you until you were so exhausted that you'd sleep until next week.” 
 
Nick smiled and kissed Gil. 
 
“I'm not complaining about your performance. It was good. Real good.” 
 
“Really?” Gil asked as he slid his hand unobtrusively under the covers. 
 
“Rea… are you playing with my balls again?” 
 
“Is there somebody else in the bed that would be playing with them?” 
 
“Horny old goat,” Nick chuckled as he felt his body begin to respond. 
 
“Just inquisitive, I like a nice pair you know. You have no idea how excited I was when I first saw yours. They're almost perfect.” 
 
“Well, I do remember your sudden need to remove all your clothing. Of course, I did think it was my dick,” Nick rejoined as he tried to suppress a shudder. 
 
“What makes you think it wasn't? I'm good at noticing multiple things at once you know.” 
 
Nick laughed and pulled Gil's hand away. Before any protests could occur, he rearranged them so that he was straddling Gil. With a slow rocking movement, he rubbed his hardening cock against Gil's softer one. 
 
“Think I can coerce my new friend down there to come out and play?” 
 
“It feels good, Nick, but I'm not sure I can, oh.” 
 
“Oh, god, that shouldn't feel so fantastic,” Nick moaned as he felt Gil begin to respond. 
 
Gil pushed up against the flesh currently grinding against him, coaxing another whimper of pleasure from his partner. 
 
“Like that Nicky?” 
 
“More than I should. It just feels so good,” Nick mumbled as he began to rotate his hips at a faster pace. 
 
As Grissom writhed underneath him, Nick was suddenly struck with how strange a turn his life had taken. With a quick shake of his head, he banished the thought. This might not be what he had anticipated, but it was what he had chosen.  
 
And Nick was happy with his decision.

• Main CSI page
• The new stories
• Gil/Greg stories
• Gil/Nick stories
• Gil/Warrick stories
• Nick/Greg stories
• Nick/Warrick stories
• Greg/Warrick stories
• Nick/Bobby stories
• Jim Brass stories
• David Hodges stories
• CSI: New York stories
• CSI: Miami stories
• Other pairings & threesomes
• Gen CSI stories