Title: Right Now
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Sequel to Countdown.

"Hey, you fags! Get a room!"

The open top jeep roared past them, the three teen-aged boys inside jeering loudly. Nick gasped and tore himself away from Grissom, taking a hasty step backwards. He tripped on the curb and would have fallen on his ass, if Grissom hadn't reached out and steadied him. Unthinkingly, Nick shook Grissom's hand off and took another step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Grissom was still leaning against his car. He slowly put his hands in his jacket pockets. "Well, that was unpleasant," he said, a slight edge to his voice, and the way he looked at Nick made Nick realize that he wasn't referring to the boys in the jeep.

Nick cursed himself for overreacting. "Uh, look, Grissom…" he started, then stopped, rubbing his neck, wondering what to say. "Look…" he tried again, but, as he stared at Grissom across what suddenly seemed like a wide gulf, he ran out of words again.

Grissom straightened up and waved one hand dismissively. "Forget it," he said. He took his car key out of his pocket and turned around to unlock and open his car door. "I think we'd best call it a night."

Nick's heart sank. "No!" he exclaimed.

Grissom paused in the act of getting in his car and looked back at Nick. "No?" he asked mildly.

And all at once, it was easy again. Nick moved forward and put his hand on Grissom's, where it rested on the car door. "No," he repeated. "That was just, I don't know, a flashback. It wasn't you."

"Did you get caught in the locker room in high school?" Grissom asked, his lips quirking.

"God, no. Behind the library, the summer before I went to college." Nick forced a short laugh. "It seems funny now, but it wasn't at the time."

"No, I don't suppose it was," Grissom agreed softly.

"So can we try this again?"

Grissom smiled. "Right now?"

"No, I don't think I do so well in public places. In fifteen minutes is probably better."

"For more reasons than one," Grissom said, still smiling.

"Yeah," Nick agreed.

Alone in his truck, Nick started to have second thoughts about the whole thing. There was only one reason he was following Grissom to his house, and it wasn't to neck in private. Nick suddenly realized he wasn't so sure he wanted to take the next step.

He had a crush on Grissom; he'd admitted it to himself a long time ago, even as he wondered what it was he found so damned attractive about him. Grissom didn't have the looks Nick generally went for, outside of work he knew their interests diverged widely and even if the age difference between them wasn't truly significant, Nick had never been with anybody who wasn't within a couple of years of his own age. Besides, Grissom had a quality that always made Nick feel a little uncomfortable. Grissom was like an iceberg. Not that he was cold, though Nick had often heard people describe him as just that. It was more the feeling that he'd only seen about one tenth of who Grissom really was and that Grissom floated alone, self-contained, little affected by anything or anyone around him. And if Nick stopped to think about it (and he often had in the past month or so), Grissom's overtures towards himself seemed completely out of character. Was it that he liked Nick so much that he couldn't help himself? Or that he could seal everything in such airtight compartments that sex, maybe even an affair, with Nick was simply that, and wouldn't affect any other part of his personal or professional life? There was a deliberateness about Grissom's actions towards him that made Nick think it was more the second than the first.

"What are you doing?" he muttered to himself. Flirting, even kissing in the heat of the moment, had seemed harmless and fun. Grissom wasn't the first person Nick had ever been attracted to at work, and he wouldn't be the last. But he'd never had sex with anybody from work; with so many other choices around, that was just plain stupid. And even if Grissom wasn't formally his boss, it was close enough that it made little difference, and they both knew it.

On the other hand, Nick couldn't find it in himself to really care about motives, explanations, logic or repercussions. They were both adults. They both wanted this. And there was one thing that Nick knew with absolute conviction: even if it all turned out badly between them on a personal level, Grissom would never take it out on Nick at work. In fact, he was more certain of Grissom's ability to keep everything on a professional level than of his own. Still…

By the time Nick parked outside Grissom's house, he was equally – and conflictingly – determined to just stand outside the door and tell Grissom that he'd changed his mind and they should call it a night and to walk inside and just let things go wherever they went. Though the fact that he suddenly wondered if Grissom preferred to top or bottom was probably an indication of what he really wanted to do. And in any case, by the time Nick climbed out of his truck, Grissom had already walked into the house, leaving the door open, so Nick had little choice but to follow him inside.

Nick stood a bit uncertainly inside the dark hallway, waiting for his eyes to adjust, wondering where Grissom was. "Grissom?"

A light flicked on in the living room and then Grissom walked back into the hallway, shrugging his jacket off. "Don't call me Grissom," he said, tossing the jacket on a chair. "Would you like something to drink? Beer? Scotch?"

"Uh, sure. A beer would be great," Nick said, a bit disconcerted at the apparent change in mood. Not that he'd expected them to immediately fall in each other's arms, he told himself firmly. Oh hell, who was he kidding? Actually that was exactly what he'd expected.

Grissom nodded and turned on his heel, moving towards the kitchen. He hadn't so much as looked at Nick. Feeling awkward, Nick wandered into the living room and looked at the books on the shelves. Forensic manuals, entomology periodicals and books ranging from poetry to poker, all jumbled together. Nick would have expected everything to be neatly categorized and the fact that it wasn't made him wonder about Grissom all over again.

Suddenly Grissom was there next to him, handing him a glass. "Here, try this."

Nick took the glass from him, their fingers brushing briefly together. "This is classy," he grinned. "I was expecting a bottle."

"Only if you want a mouthful of yeast. This is Duvel; it's an aged Belgian beer."

Of course it is, Nick sighed inwardly. Trust Grissom not to just have Bud in his fridge. Or even the German lager he'd served last time. Still, the beer tasted great, light but with what Nick suspected was a mule's kick.

Grissom put on a CD. "Do you want to dance?" he asked.

Nick laughed. "I don't dance, remember?"

"As you forced me to admit, neither do I. But anybody can dance to slow music." Grissom stood with his hands on his hips, smiling a bit.

"What is this, dating-by-numbers?" Nick asked jokingly, while turning to put his beer on one of the shelves behind him. He turned back to find Grissom staring at him, his smile gone, an odd, shuttered expression on his face.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Nick, I don't date," Grissom said slowly.

Nick immediately felt embarrassed. "It was just a joke," he said, but Grissom shook his head, interrupting him.

"No, I mean it's another thing I'm bad at." He paused, pressing his lips together. "I don't know what you're expecting," he continued finally in a low voice, almost like he was talking to himself, rather than to Nick.

They were too far away from each other again and Nick moved to stand right in front of Grissom. Grissom's eyes slid away from Nick's to look over Nick's shoulder, and his whole posture radiated tension.

"Nothing, Gil," Nick said quietly. "I'm not expecting anything. Whatever's happening is fine." He'd never thought that he'd be trying to reassure Grissom. He felt a sudden wave of tenderness towards the man standing tensely in front of him, and he reached out to cup Grissom's cheek. "I'll tell you when it's not," he promised.

Grissom took a deep breath and released it slowly, visibly relaxing. Slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned forward and kissed Nick. Nick slid his hand to the back of Grissom's head, threading his fingers through Grissom's curls, and kissed him back, his mouth opening over Grissom's, his tongue licking along the line of Grissom's lips, until Grissom parted them slightly and let him deepen the kiss.

"Grissom," Nick muttered, and this time Grissom didn't correct him, but put his arms around Nick to pull him more firmly against him, his hands tugging at Nick's shirt and sliding underneath, caressing Nick's bare back. Nick copied him, tracing along the groove of Grissom's spine, feeling the muscles move under Grissom's smooth skin. He ran his hands along Grissom's sides, liking the small love handles he found there, and the hitch in Grissom's breath, when he stroked his ribs and right underneath his armpits.

He was concentrating so much on what he was doing to Grissom, that he was half surprised when he felt the waistband of his jeans suddenly loosen and Grissom's warm palm slide downwards against his belly and he gasped into Grissom's mouth, when Grissom's hand cupped him.

Grissom lifted his head and stared into Nick's eyes as he stroked him, his touch light and slow, his thumb brushing against the head of Nick's cock. Nick stared back for a while, then he closed his eyes and pushed his hips forward, wanting a firmer touch. "Harder," he whispered, and Grissom tightened his grip. His eyes still closed, Nick rubbed his face against Grissom's, searching for his mouth, locking onto it when he found it. There was nothing tentative or slow about their kissing now, it was hungry and wet, almost a battle, and it still wasn't enough. But then, all of a sudden it was too much, too fast, and Nick needed to slow it down.

"Wait," he said, almost a moan, grasping Grissom's wrist, stilling his hand.

"What is it?" Grissom whispered hotly, trying to kiss Nick again, but Nick twisted his head away, pulling Grissom's hand out of his jeans at the same time.

"I… We… What are we doing?" Nick blurted.

"I thought that was obvious," Grissom said, trying to pull Nick against him again. Then Nick's resistance seemed to sink in, and he suddenly became still. "Or maybe not," he said slowly, dropping his hands.

Nick became aware of how he must look to Grissom, standing there with his jeans hanging open, his cock still stiff. He turned away, trying to arrange himself and fasten his jeans. Then he looked at Grissom again. Grissom was running his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down and if Nick discounted the shirt that was half untucked at the back, he looked almost normal.

"Grissom. Gil," he corrected himself quickly, when he saw Grissom open his mouth. "I don't do this very often."

Grissom shrugged. "So? Are you worried I won't respect you in the morning?" he asked, the sarcasm only thinly veiled.

Nick bristled with irritation. He knew Grissom had a right to be angry, but he didn't like being made fun of. "Exactly. That's exactly what I'm worried about," he snapped.

Grissom snorted a laugh and opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He tilted his head and studied Nick for a while.

"Nick. How often do you think I do this?"

"Well, I know you've asked people from work out. You asked Charlotte out just last week."

Grissom's lips quirked at the mention of Charlotte's name, then he quickly grew serious again.

"How often do you think I invite someone to my house?"

Nick shrugged.

"You're the first in over five years," Grissom said quietly.

Nick stood staring at Grissom, stunned, hardly breathing. "Is that true?" he whispered, looking for confirmation, even though the question he really wanted to ask was ‘Why are you telling me this?'

Grissom raised one shoulder, as if unwilling to make the admission out loud a second time. The silence drew out again and Nick realized the next move was up to him.

"Neither of us is very good at this, are we?"

Grissom smiled. "I guess not."

"Gil? Can we try this again?" And then, remembering he'd asked exactly the same thing not more than an hour ago, he added "A second time?"

"Right now?"

"Oh yeah," Nick grinned, relief spreading through him. "Right now."