Title: A Personnel Situation
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Rating: R
Warning: Spoiler for Season 5 "Snakes" and Sara's post PEAP counseling session.
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Established relationship. Different shifts mean they don't manage to see each other for a few weeks and when they finally do, Grissom is preoccupied and not exactly forthcoming about his conversation with Sara.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

I can tell he's tempted to fake it for a second, but then he shakes his head. "Not really. Sorry." He half-heartedly stirs his oatmeal, raises the spoon halfway to his mouth, then puts it down again, pushes the bowl away and scowls at it.

"You want to order something else? The blueberry pancakes are especially good today."

He frowns at me. "No, the oatmeal is fine."

"Healthy," I say helpfully, trying not to smile at his obvious disgust.

This is the first time we've had breakfast together in weeks. Actually, this is the first time we've even been together in weeks. Not what I had envisioned when Ecklie split up the team. With Gil no longer supervising me, I imagined a few more months of being careful in order not to give anybody room for gossip, then we'd be taking our relationship to a whole new level. Yeah, right. That lasted straight through to my first double shift, one day later. Then Gil had one. Then me. And so on. And it occurred to me that the only reason we were even able to have a relationship in the first place was because I'd been on Gil's team.

At times I think we're drifting apart. I always scoff when I read about actors splitting up because, quote "their schedules didn't allow them to spend enough time together". It's not that, I think, it's because they simply didn't love each other. Now... well, now I'm beginning to see their point. How do you maintain, let alone build, a relationship when you don't spend time together? When you barely have time or energy to even talk on the phone? When you try to avoid subjects like work - because that's work, not life - and can think of nothing else to say, because actually most of your life is all about work and it's not that pleasant?

I wonder how long he's been on his new health kick; it feels weird not knowing. It feels weird asking questions like "So, how was work?" because I used to know exactly how it was. But that's just what I ask, because I can't think of anything else to say.

He doesn't respond immediately. He leans back in the booth, pulling his coffee cup in front of him and stares at it for a few seconds.

"I have a ...situation," he finally says. He looks up at me, then down at his cup again, idly twirling it around.

"What kind of situation?"

"Personnel."

"What happened? Are you late completing performance evaluations again?" I joke.

He smiles briefly, then waves the waitress over and asks for the bill. "Let's get out of here," he says casually. "You want to come over for a while?"

As usual we're in different cars and, as usual, I don't park in front of his house, so he's already home when I get there. He lets me in and I stand in the hallway, feeling a bit awkward, almost like it's the first time I've been there. That lasts for about a second, until he shoves me against the wall, pressing his body against mine.

"God, I missed you," he says roughly, and then he's kissing me. I grow hard almost immediately and I push my hips against his, even as I'm fighting to get my hands between us so that I can undo his belt. I almost succeed, but he grabs my wrists.

"I need a shower," he says. He starts to back away, but then he's up against me again, his hands cupping my face, his mouth opening over mine. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. I'm not sure how we'll ever move from the doorway, let alone get all the way upstairs. Finally he breaks away again. "I need a shower," he repeats. "Do you want a drink or something?"

I shake my head and give him a gentle shove. "Go take your shower already. I know my way around."

I think he sets a new world record for taking a shower and he certainly doesn't bother drying himself. I've barely undressed and he's already in the bedroom, pushing me onto the bed, his wet skin cool and slick against me, his hair dripping on my face.

"This is going to be a very big wet spot," I say and he laughs.

Afterwards we move to the living room. He chooses one of his less painful - to me, at least - jazz CDs and he sprawls out on the couch. He's quiet, staring into space. I go over and sit on the floor with my back against the couch and let my head fall back until it's resting against his leg. He responds to my presence, running his fingers through my hair, tracing my ear, rubbing my shoulder lightly.

"Nick."

"Hmm?"

"Did you ever think that somebody in the team might have feelings for me?"

"Other than me you mean? Ouch!" He rubs my earlobe lightly between two fingers, soothing away the burn from his having twisted it.

"I'm serious."

"Well, Sara of course."

His fingers grow still. I look back to see him gaping at me.

"Come on, Gil," I laugh, "don't tell me you didn't know."

He flushes a bit.

I twist around and put my arm on the seat, so that I can look at him without getting a crick in my neck. All of a sudden, I get it. "This is your personnel situation? Did Sara make a pass at you or something?"

He looks thoughtful. "Or something, I guess."

"What happened?" I should be annoyed, but I'm finding it more amusing than anything.

"Nothing."

"Gil."

He straightens up a bit. "I shouldn't have brought it up. It's inappropriate to be having this conversation."

Now I am getting annoyed.

"Gil, it's me."

"I know it's you. But Sara reports to me and she's your colleague, so it's inappropriate."

He gets up from the couch and stalks to the CD player, turning it off. I stand up as well, looking at his back.

"Gil, I don't need to be worried about anything, do I?" I feel ridiculous for even asking, but all of a sudden I feel like a lot has happened in the few weeks that Gil and I didn't manage to really connect.

He turns to stare at me. I'm not sure if he's angry or he just finds the question contemptible, because after a few seconds he turns away again, meticulously putting the CD back into its jewel box and returning it to its rack. I sit down on the couch, embarrassed, unsure of what to say. Several minutes crawl by, during which Gil simply stands in front of the CD rack staring at it, his hands in his pockets.

"How about a movie?" he asks suddenly. "There's a Bergman retrospective I wanted to see."

I groan inwardly. Not even to make amends will I go to a Bergman retrospective. "Uh, his movies are like 4 hours long, aren't they? I don't think I have enough time before work."

He turns and grins at me. "Ingrid Bergman, 2-hour film."

"I guess I can handle that." I get up.

He walks over to me. "Sometimes you're a bit confused, Nicky," he says gently and I know he's not referring to the Ingmar/Ingrid mix-up.

"But you find that endearing?" I joke weakly.

"Not always."

"I'm sorry."

He waves away my apology. "I knew when you had feelings for me, Nick." He sees that I'm puzzled, so he elaborates a bit: "I notice things when they're important to me."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

I'm not really sure what he thinks he's just told me, but I'll take it as a reassurance that I don't need to be worried. I touch his cheek, tracing the line of his beard. (And I really wish he'd shave it off.) "I love you, Gil." It comes out a bit choked and it feels like a long time since I've been able to say it with both of us in the same room.

He catches my hand in his and kisses it. "Me too, Nicky." Nothing ambivalent about that.

As we walk out the door, there's only one more question I need to ask:

"So, Gil. How long have you been on a diet?"