Title: I Spy
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Nick Stokes
Warning: PG
Disclaimer: Characters don't belong to me and I don't make money off of them
Summary: Warrick sees something he wishes he hadn't.
(Parallel to "The Double Life of Gil")
Note: With thanks to M, who gives me detailed feedback, bats around character interpretations with me, and got me thinking about this story a couple of weeks ago.

When Warrick saw Nick and Grissom the first time, he didn't really grasp what was going on.

He was slowly driving down W. Sahara, looking for a new restaurant a friend had recommended they try, when he saw Nick coming out of the Z'Tejas. Nick was looking backwards, laughing at someone behind him, holding the door open for them. Warrick slowed down further, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nick's date, already looking forward to teasing Nick the next day. When Grissom walked out behind Nick, Warrick was mildly disappointed. He was about to toot his horn in order to draw their attention, when he saw Grissom smilingly grab Nick's nape and shake him slightly. Something about that gesture made Warrick decide to drive on.

He couldn't stop thinking about it though, because it was strange in too many ways.

First of all, there was the timing: For what seemed like weeks, Grissom had been behaving like a bear with a sore head. Snapping at the team, hiding away in his office and generally making himself unpleasant and unavailable. Warrick didn't read too much into it. He figured even Grissom must have personal problems occasionally, so he just tried to stay clear as much as possible. There was a brief interlude when it seemed that Grissom had returned to normal, then the news broke that he had applied for a transfer to another shift. He'd made it more than clear he no longer wanted to be around the team, so why was he having dinner with Nick?

Then there was Nick's behavior: For a long time he'd been morose, withdrawn. Warrick had expressed concern once or twice, but he hadn't wanted to push Nick. If Nick said he was fine, then Warrick was willing to play along. God knows Nick had been through enough. He didn't need his friends acting like amateur psychiatrists, forcing confidences he didn't want to give up. Then, in a matter of one or two days, Nick changed completely. He seemed happy, excited. Warrick ascribed it to a new love interest and, in this case, had no reservations about pressing Nick to name names. Nick just laughed, neither denying nor confirming Warrick's increasingly blue suggestions, which only served to increase Warrick's certainty that Nick had a girlfriend. With the little free time they all had, you'd think Nick would spend every moment with her, not having dinner with his boss.

Finally, there was Grissom's gesture itself: In as many years as he'd known him, Warrick couldn't remember Grissom ever being physically demonstrative. In fact, he always seemed to move in a little isolated cushion of space. Sometimes he'd lean in a bit, in sympathy or challenge, but the casual back slap, the arm across the back of a chair? Almost never, at least not that Warrick had seen.

Warrick continued to dwell on the mystery off and on for the next few days. His curiosity was piqued further, when he realized that during shift Grissom and Nick almost never spoke directly to each other. In fact, they hardly looked at each other. Thinking back, he realized that this had been going on for a long, long time.

The second time he saw them, he started to get the picture, though it still didn't really make sense to him.

They were outside in the parking lot, talking. Nick was leaning back against his truck, his elbows on the hood. Grissom was standing a little sideways but facing Nick, one hand also braced against the hood. It was the way Grissom stood that brought to Warrick's mind a half-recognized image he couldn't immediately place, making him uneasy.

The next day he saw the same stance again, this time in a bar; a guy leaning one hand against the counter, creating an intimate personal space for himself and the woman who was sitting on the stool in front of him with her back to the counter. It took Warrick a couple of minutes to admit to himself that the two stances were almost identical; he didn't want to think about what that might mean.

But after that he became obsessed. He started to monitor Grissom and Nick, note every interaction, every sideways glance. Warrick realized that if one was paying attention, there was actually a lot to observe. Like the night both Grissom and Nick kept on popping mints that did little to cover the smell of garlic on their breath. Or the shift they thought Grissom had gone AWOL and apart from Ecklie, only Nick seemed to know that he had been called to Los Angeles to testify as an expert witness. In isolation nothing was conclusive, but it was all starting to add up.

The third time Warrick sees them, he knows.

It's actually nothing, a moment that might have passed him by if he weren't so hyper-aware by this point. All it is, is Grissom handing Nick a bindle to take to ballistics. But Warrick sees their fingers brush and the look they exchange. And it all suddenly becomes very clear to him.

Warrick spends the next few hours rotating though a number of emotions, his mind feverishly seeking, examining and rejecting motives, hidden meanings and reasons that contradict one another.

Anger is predominant. He's angry at Nick, because they're friends, yet Nick never once in over five years saw fit to mention that perhaps he isn't quite the lady's man he pretends to be. He's angry at Grissom, because Grissom is taking advantage of Nick's hero-worship of him and he can't be what Nick needs. He's even angry at himself for being angry at Nick.

He also feels compassion. Compassion for Nick, because he feels he has to hide something so fundamental to who he is, even from his friends. Compassion for Grissom, because Warrick starts to understand why Grissom might have asked to be transferred. Compassion for both of them, because he knows what will happen if someone else discovers what was ultimately so easy to discover.

And although he doesn't like it, he feels uneasy, uncertain about how to continue being friends with Nick. He tries to review over five years' worth of conversation and joking, wondering how many times he must have made comments that may have insulted Nick. He's never had a close gay friend – at least, not one that he knows of – and he wonders a bit queasily if Nick ever saw him that way. Most of all, he feels as if the whole foundation of his friendship with Nick has suddenly eroded.

But in the end, it's caring and affection that win out. Nick is his friend. It's as simple, and as complicated, as that. And even though it makes Warrick break out in a cold sweat even thinking about it, he needs to tell Nick what he knows. The sooner, the better.

So when he locates Nick alone in the break room, he goes in himself, carefully closing the door behind him and pulling up a chair right next to Nick.

Nick's initial smile of greeting falters and changes to concern when he sees the look on Warrick's face.

"Hey man, what's up?"

Shit, thinks Warrick. Shitshitshitshit. He can't do this.

"Warrick?"

"I know, Nick," Warrick says finally. He winces inwardly at the funereal timbre of his voice.

"You know…?" Nick asks, starting to smile a bit.

"About Grissom. About you. About Grissom and you," Warrick explains in a rush, wiping Nick's smile away.

They both sit silently for a while, not looking at each other. Nick sighs heavily.

"Does anyone else know?" he asks finally.

"I don't think so," Warrick answers. He's relieved that Nick doesn't try to argue with him. "I just wanted to let you know. To warn you."

"It's nobody's business but ours," Nick says flatly.

"I know. But if I figured it out, someone else might. I just wanted to let you know," Warrick repeats. He desperately longs to be someplace else.

Nick laughs humorlessly.

"I guess this must be a surprise to you."

Warrick only grunts, still not looking at Nick.

Nick starts to tap his fingers nervously against the table, and for a while that's the only sound in the room.

"Are we still cool, man?"

Nick's voice is strained and even though Warrick is still staring down at the table in front of him, he can feel Nick's eyes on him.

"Yeah, Nick. We're cool," he replies. He stands up, almost light-headed with relief that it's all over, that they really are cool. Before moving away, he briefly grips Nick's shoulder.

"I'd just better not catch you making goo-goo eyes at me," he says as he opens the door and Nick's laughter follows him out of the room.