Title: Staying in Vegas
By: Chapin CSI
Pairing: Gil/several
Rating: PG-13
Warning: I don't speak English and it shows in my stories; luckily, my readers are very forgiving. Thanks!
Spoiler: Leaving Las Vegas
Summary: With Grissom gone for a month, Greg, Warrick and Nick meet for an interesting discussion. The subject? Their boss. Who would have thought Gil had so many admirers?

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Warrick Brown leant on the counter. He was watching the coffee maker, willing it to work faster. It smelled good already, and no wonder: it was made from Greg's private stash.

Warrick glanced at the man sitting at the table.

"Coffee's ready," he said, but got no response. Greg Sanders didn't make a move to stand; he was so lost in thought, he didn't even seem to hear Warrick's words. "Ok," Warrick muttered. He picked two clean mugs from the counter, poured some coffee into them, and brought them to the table.

Greg barely noticed when Warrick put one of the mugs within his reach.

"It's your brew, bro," Warrick said, pushing the mug a bit closer. He took a seat, his eyes never leaving Greg. "Come on, man," he said. "It's not like he's gone forever."

"I know," Greg sighed. "It just feels, you know, weird, not having him around."

Warrick stared at him, then shook his head.

"You've got to talk to him, Greg."

"I can't do that," Greg said, "I can't just go to Grissom and tell him that I -" he paused, "Well, you know."

"I wish you would. Honestly. That guy needs to get laid. He hasn't got any, since… well, ever. Grissom isn't gonna -"

Someone entered the break room then, and Warrick looked up sharply. He relaxed when he saw it was only Nick Stokes.

Nick made a beeline for the fridge, but even as he rummaged inside he couldn't help noticing the sudden silence. He glanced at his friends and noticed that Greg looked particularly despondent.

"What's with him?" he asked Warrick.

"Ah, he's mopping 'cause Grissom's gone."

"I'm not mopping," Greg muttered, and he morosely looked into his coffee cup. "I'm just -"

"Mopping," Nick said helpfully. He got a can of soda from the fridge and sat at the table. "Let me guess: he told Grissom, and Grissom said no."

"He didn't tell him," Warrick replied.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on," Greg protested, "I can't tell him, Nick. This is Grissom we're talking about. I mean, the guy lives like a monk; no one knows if he's straight or gay, or if he prefers butterflies and crickets -"

"I'm betting on cockroaches," Warrick smiled.

"Well, you better talk to him before someone else does," Nick said, hiding a smile behind his soda can.

"Like who?"

"Like Hodges. The guy's still harping about that sweatshirt he gave Grissom for the trip."

"Big deal," Greg scoffed, "A second-hand sweatshirt -"

"A second-hand sweatshirt that he got on E-bay," Nick pointed out. "You gotta admit he really went out of his way for Grissom."

"Yeah, but just because he wants to kiss Grissom's ass doesn't mean he literally wants to," Greg said. "Hodges isn't gay."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Nick countered. "But my point is, Grissom's probably wearing Hodges' sweatshirt right now, and feeling grateful for it. Gratitude can go a long way, Greggo. Did you give him anything for the trip?"

"No," Greg said uncomfortably. He brightened up, "But I got to talk to him," he said, "Right before he left. He gave me some advice on what to do for my courtroom appearance."

"Hm." Nick didn't seem impressed.

"He looked me up," Greg pointed out.

"He looked me up too," Warrick said. And then, just to tease his friend, he added. "He said I was his rock -what do you think of that?"

"That doesn't mean squat," Greg countered, "We all know you're like a son to him. Besides, you're into girls."

Warrick smiled. "Yes, I am. But that brings me back to what I've been telling you all along: you should have told him right then and there. Instead, you just kept muttering 'good luck.'"

"Good luck?" Nick scoffed. "Is that what you said?"

"Hey, at least I didn't make a fool of myself," Greg retorted.

Warrick perked up. "What does that mean?"

"You didn't hear? Nick gave Grissom a little speech just before he left; told him how he'd never forget his teachings, then wished him well in his new job far, far away from Las Vegas."

"No kidding?" Warrick laughed.

"He even hugged Grissom," Greg added.

This time Warrick nearly choked into his coffee.

"You hugged him?"

"You should have seen Grissom's face," Greg said gleefully. "He looked like he wanted to wring Nick's neck!"

Warrick looked incredulously at his friend. "Come on, Nick? You didn't really think he was leaving for good, did you?"

Nick shrugged. "Of course, not."

"They why -?"

"Because I had to do something," Nick said matter-of-factly. "I mean, you two had a chance to talk to him privately -even Hodges did." He paused, letting those words sink. "But I got to hug him," He leant back in his seat, looking pleased with himself. "And I got to feel him up."

"Oh, come on," Greg protested, "You did not! I saw you; you kept your arms around his shoulders the whole time!"

"Yeah," Nick said, "To make sure our bodies stayed pressed together. I got to feel every inch of him -and I mean every inch," he added suggestively. He smiled, pleased. "Who's the fool now?"

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The End

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