Title: Tell Me
Author: podga
Pairing: Nick/OMC, Gil/Nick
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: In their own ways, Grissom and Brian both realize that Nick isn’t okay. Sequel to Seven Short Days.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

The question, uttered in a quiet voice, blindsides Nick. He slides a look towards Grissom, trying to gauge his mood, but Grissom’s eyes are locked on the computer screen, watching images of fingerprints rapidly succeed one another as the system looks for a match. For the past week Grissom has kept Nick close to his side and working on the same cases. A few months ago Nick would have welcomed the opportunity to work with Grissom more often; he’d have seen it as an opportunity to observe Grissom more closely and hone his own skills. Lately it makes him uncomfortable, as if he’s always under scrutiny in case he does something wrong. It’s not doing much for his confidence. Or his mood.

“What do you mean?” he prevaricates.

Grissom shrugs. “I’m just wondering if there’s a problem.”

“No problem. Why?”

One of the fingerprint images freezes for a second and they both lean closer to the screen, expecting a match to come up, but then the images start flashing by again and they straighten in unison.

“You just seem preoccupied. On edge.”

“Is it affecting my performance?” Nick snaps.

Grissom finally turns to look at him. “Like that,” he says. “Defensive. Immediately grabbing hold of the wrong end of the stick. I haven’t addressed the quality of your performance, have I?”

Nick flushes and crosses his arms.

“No, you haven’t,” he says in an accusatory tone. He’s damned if he’s going to be the one at fault here.

A muscle jerks steadily in Grissom’s jaw, as if he’s grinding his teeth. “You want me tell you what a good job you’re doing?”

“Yeah. That would be nice for a change.”

“Okay. You’re doing a good job.”

It doesn’t very sincere to Nick. In fact, it leaves him feeling as if he was fishing for a compliment he doesn’t deserve.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“Feel better now?”

At a loss for words, Nick can only glare at Grissom.

“No?” Grissom asks mildly, although the muscle is still ticking away, evidence that he’s not quite as sanguine as he sounds.

Nick shakes his head, looking back at the screen.

“Nick. Look at me.”

Nick reluctantly meets Grissom’s gaze again and he feels his anger oozing away, because Grissom’s eyes are soft with concern.

“I’m just wondering if there’s something I can do to help,” Grissom says and unaccountably Nick has a sudden urge to tell him everything: from the act he’s been putting on since he was in high school, to the real reasons he decided to leave Dallas, to the fact that he’s finally in the type of relationship he always thought he wanted to be in, only it’s not much of a relationship and he doesn’t know how to fix it or even if he should. He needs a friend who will listen without judging, and right now Grissom looks like he could be that friend. Then he comes to his senses.

“There’s no problem,” he says finally, his voice gruff. “But thanks.”

He holds eye contact for a couple of seconds longer, until Grissom finally nods in acceptance and turns back to the IAFIS database.

For the rest of the shift he manages to avoid being alone with Grissom. Even though he admitted nothing, that moment when he was on the verge doing so stays with him, making him feel exposed, vulnerable. He needs to get a grip and go back to being the Nick nobody worries about. It shouldn’t be that hard; after all, he’s had years of practice.

 

 

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

What is it with everyone? First Grissom, now Brian.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, man, don’t give me that shit,” Brian says brusquely. “If you’re not having a good time, just say so.”

And then what, Nick asks himself. If he tells Brian that he isn’t having a good time, what will Brian do? Try to figure out why? He just doesn’t seem like the type. He’s more the type to simply walk away.

“I’m not having a good time,” he says slowly, his heart thudding almost painfully in his chest. Now that he’s said it, he wishes he hadn’t. He’s not ready for Brian to walk away. But he has to know. He has to resolve at least one thing.

Brian nods. “Okay. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Do about it?” Him? Of all the responses he might have expected from Brian, this definitely wasn’t one of them.

Brian smiles crookedly. “Yeah. What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want out?”

“Do you?”

“I’m not the one not having a good time.”

Nick is baffled. “Is this all you want, Brian?”

“This? Depends on what you mean by this,” Brian says, making quotations marks with his fingers as he says ‘this’ the second time.

“Sex. A roll in the hay a few times a week.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Nothing. But…” Nick leaves the sentence hanging. He can’t bring himself to say he wants more. When you have to tell the other person you want more, when they don’t realize it themselves, that means there’s really nothing more there, so why make a fool of yourself?

“But what? Were you having that much of a better time being a closeted virgin?”

“I didn’t-” Nick starts to say, but Brian interrupts him angrily.

“Jacking off to gay porn on the internet after coming home from a date with a woman? Maybe even sleeping with her and having to think of some guy to get it up? Pretending?”

“I never did that,” Nick protests weakly.

“No? Well, I did.” Brian sighs, then repeats more softly “I did. Or I’d go to a gay bar and pick up some guy I couldn’t give a flying fuck about and had nothing in common with, other than the obvious. So with you, yeah, I’m having a great time, and it’s enough for me. It’s all I want. Sue me.”

Nick gawks at Brian as he sits across from him, looking both defiant and defeated at the same time. The silence between them seems weighted down with everything that Brian has left unsaid, and Nick finds himself wishing that he’d left well enough alone. He prefers his previous version of Brian: the cocky, light-hearted guy who only wants one thing and who will ultimately drift away when he grows bored or when someone else attracts his attention. With that version, Nick could concentrate on himself, on his own confusion and insecurities. He didn’t have to care about what Brian felt, because Brian felt nothing.

“Brian,” he begins hesitantly. “I… I’m not sure… I don’t want you to think…” His voice peters out. He has no idea what to say. None whatsoever.

“I don’t think anything, Nick. If you want this to stop, fine. It was all casual anyway.”

“But don’t you eventually want something more? Not with me. Just generally, don’t you want something more?”

Brian laughs. “More? Sure. I want to move back to my home town. I want to get married to the boy next door. I want to have kids. None of that’s gonna happen though, so it’s no use pretending that it might.”

“Why not?” Nick doesn’t really know why he’s asking, because he feels the same way Brian does. Maybe he’s hoping that if he hears the reasons from somebody else, they’ll sound less convincing to him.

Brian shrugs. “Because that’s just not how I was brought up, I guess. And because I’m too much of a coward to swim against the stream.”

Nick nods. It’s a mighty stream, alright.

“So do you want this to stop?” Brian asks.

Nick looks at Brian, at his clear gray eyes that aren’t as carefree as he’d first thought, at the boyish blond cowlicks that tricked him into believing that Brian had gotten to this point untouched and scot-free, and he feels a rush of tenderness.

“No,” he says, feeling a deep peaceful conviction that, at least for today, any other answer is unthinkable.