Title: That’s It
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: Gil decides they should write their own marriage vows.
A/N: For those of you who asked for a happy fic next.

I blame Greg.

“You’re writing your own vows, right?” he asked suddenly, his hands clasped theatrically to his chest.

Riiiight. Not a chance. Except that I saw Gil get that look that never bodes well: that ‘why-the-hell-didn’t-I-think-of-that’ look.

And the thing is, Greg and I weren’t even talking about the commitment ceremony, when he’d decided to make his remark. He was just trying to get a rise out of Gil.

 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Gil says later, after he broaches the subject and listens with mild interest to my five-minute diatribe about what should happen to people who butt into other people’s private business.

“But Greg came up with it,” I say, desperately playing my last card, because he seems to be forgetting that Greg is the poster boy for wacky ideas.

“You know, I think you underestimate him,” he says, leaving me speechless and staring at his back as he walks away.

Of course, it’s no problem for him. He owns about a hundred poetry books, and he actually reads them. But what am I supposed to do?

 

Jenny. Jenny has always been my protector, and if anybody can help, she can. She teaches English literature.

“Sorry, you’re on your own on this one, little brother. It should be something meaningful to you.”

“It will be. Once you pick it out.”

“What’s the problem? Just tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, but he’s probably going to quote the most beautiful and perfect poem about love—”

“Oh, come on! Gil?” she interrupts me skeptically.

“Gil is a very sensitive man,” I say indignantly, feeling insulted on his behalf, but she seems to think that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.

 

“So, how are your vows coming along?”

“Almost there.”

“Really?” I knew it. I fucking knew it.

“Uh huh.”

“So, what are you going to say? You know, so that we’re in tandem.”

“I’m going to talk about the Manatee Beetle. Did you know they mate for life?”

I’m afraid to ask for more detail, in case he’s being serious.

And later, I waste way too much time thinking about birds that form long-term monogamous relationships. You never know, it might just come to that: people coming to witness a commitment, and getting a couple of short lectures on bugs and birds instead.

And they say romance is dead.

 

“Archie? I need your help.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m not,” I whisper, conscious of Gil ‘resting his eyes’ in the next room. “Listen, how do you retrieve deleted files from a hard drive? I had a little accident.”

Archie gives me a few pointers over the phone. Yes, I’m looking for Gil’s vows. I’m desperate. Sue me.

It’s surprisingly easy when you know what you’re doing. Gil seems to have saved, and then deleted, three different versions. He hasn’t even used code titles. I triumphantly click on Vows1. It’s very short, one sentence: Shame on you. Vows2 contains a short excerpt from the CSI-1 training manual about ensuring that all searches are legal, and Vows3 a picture of a monkey blowing a kiss.

Somebody obviously had himself a grand old time.

 

Why didn’t I think of this before? I google ‘wedding vows’ and there are over a million corresponding entries. After four hours my head is spinning and I’m no closer to what I want to say.

It’s not that the words aren’t beautiful or meaningful, because many of them are. But the moment I use them to try and describe how I feel about Gil, and how he makes me feel, they start to sound fake, and trite, and they can’t possibly contain everything I want to tell him. Especially if I have to speak to him in front of an audience.

And to be honest, I didn’t even really want a ceremony: for me, it’s enough to know that I wake up next to him every day, that we come home to each other, that he fills my heart.

But for some reason, the ceremony is important to Gil. “I can’t explain why,” he told me, when I pressed him. “It just is.”

 

The weather forecast predicted rain, and sure enough, about two hours before the ceremony, the skies open. This is the point where I would have probably been feeling nervous, but instead I get dragged into solving organizational details. It comes as no surprise to anyone that Gil is nowhere to be found, and I’m not sure I’m serving any purpose either, because my mom and sisters seem intent on doing the exact opposite of anything I suggest.

 

And suddenly, it’s time.

I’m vaguely aware of people grouped in a semi-circle around us, but all I really see is him standing in front of me, his hair curlier than normal because of the humidity, his blue eyes serious.

“Do you want to go first?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

He reaches for my hands, his clasp warm and firm and steadying.

“I love you, Nick. And I promise to love you for the rest of my life, and to do my best to deserve you.”

He pauses, and I nod encouragingly, but he doesn’t continue. Your turn, he mouths after a couple of more seconds of our staring at each other.

“That’s it?” I whisper, trying not to glare at him, because in a way he’s said everything I’d want to hear, and he nods, and I hear somebody nearby, probably Jenny, giggle.

I take a deep breath. And finally, I know what I’m going to say to him.

“And I love you, Gil. And I promise to love you for the rest of my life, whether you deserve it or not.”

“That’s it?” he says, a smile transforming his face.

I nod. That’s it.