Title: First Time
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: NC-17 / Strictly Adult
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: Nick reaches a decision the night before his twenty-fifth birthday.
“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He thinks about arguing with her, but there’s a high probability that she’ll end up convincing him, rather than the other way around. Hell, he already knows this is not one of his finer moments.
“You’re going through with it, aren’t you?”
“Well. Yeah. I mean, assuming I meet somebody… Yeah. I guess so.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
“Nick, what’s the hurry? I mean, why force it?”
“I’m going to be twenty five tomorrow.”
“Yeah, so?”
He can’t explain it to her. He barely understands it himself, this need not to let another birthday go by without knowing for sure. And it’s nothing he wants to involve anybody he knows in. Assuming he knows anybody that would want to be involved. Which he doesn’t think he does.
“It’s just something I want to do,” he says. “Listen, sis, I gotta go.”
“Okay.” He can hear the doubt in her voice, and he tries not to let it waken the butterflies in his stomach. “See you tomorrow then. Remember the whole family will be present for lunch, including grandparents and numerous children, so try not to look too debauched.”
“Yeah. Bye.”
He hangs up and goes to check himself out in the mirror one last time. He’s not sure worn jeans and a red T-shirt are the right attire for where he’s about to go, but the white shirt he tried on before seemed like an even worse choice for some reason, making him look too conservative, or like he was dressing up for a special occasion. Which he guesses this might turn out to be. He runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing at its sticky stiffness, and wondering if he’s overdone the gel. He briefly considers rinsing it out, then admits to himself that he’s just stalling. He squares his shoulders, practices what looks more or less like a confident smile, then picks up his keys and walks out of the house. He’s perspiring by the time he reaches his truck, half a block down the street, and he blames the warm and muggy night.
He has three places in mind. He slowly drives by the first one, and decides not to stop after seeing the long line and the bouncer at the door. The second club seems quieter by comparison, and he pulls into a free parking space a couple of blocks away. Even with the a/c on, his palms are damp, and he wipes them on his jeans before getting out. He joins the small line, and other than a couple of appraising looks, nobody seems to be paying much attention to him.
The bouncer eyes him up and down. “Sorry,” he says with a heavy finality.
“How come?”
“It’s ‘Pull yourself up by your bootstraps night’.”
“Sounds inspiring and character-building,” Nick jokes weakly.
“Which means that inside you need to be wearing boots and a jockstrap. I don’t see no boots and something tells me you ain’t wearing a jock, either,” the bouncer explains.
“You’re right, I ain’t. I mean, I’m not.”
“I’ll let you in, if you come back dressed right,” the bouncer promises and Nick thanks him politely before he moves off, only just succeeding not to break into a run.
Club number three has an even longer line that number one and is having a theme night, if the guys wearing tiaras is anything to go by, so once again he drives by without stopping. It’s already
Driving by a small and quiet looking Irish bar, he reaches a sudden decision and pulls into the parking lot. It’s Saturday night. The least he can do is have a beer or two to ring in his birthday.
The bar is half empty, with only a couple of the booths occupied and a group of three men in their forties standing at the bar. He perches on a stool at the corner of the counter and orders a Guinness.
“Sorry, sonny, but I’m gonna have to card you,” the barman says.
Nick hands over his driver’s license and the barman peers at it, then grins.
“Well, well. First drink you order after
“Thanks,” Nick says, although he’s not really planning on staying that long.
Other than nodding a greeting at the group standing next to him when he walked up to the bar, Nick hasn’t really paid much attention to them, but now he realizes that one of the men has turned around to face him.
“Why, what happens after
“It’s his birthday,” the barman says cheerfully, setting Nick’s beer in front of him.
“Well, then. Happy birthday,” the man smiles.
“Thank you,” Nick says.
“Hey, Denny, it’s Gil’s birthday tonight, so why aren’t you offering him a free drink?” one of the other men, slightly older looking, asks.
“Yeah, right,” Denny scoffs. “I’ve known you for over twenty years, Peter Harris, and you’re always after a free drink.”
“No, really. Show him, Gil.”
The man who spoke to Nick dutifully takes his wallet out, flips it open, and shows it to the bartender.
“
“Ouch. You didn’t have to read out the year.”
“Well, fair’s fair,” Denny says. “Next one’s on me, so long as you order it before
“What? Aw, come on, Denny, we’ve been here since eight. Stand him the one he’s drinking now,” Peter groans. “He needs to be on a plane back to Vegas bright and early tomorrow.”
“That’s okay. I’ll take the next one,” Gil says quietly, not clarifying if he means free drink or plane, and leans an elbow against the bar, turning to face Nick again.
“So, how about you?”
“How about me what?”
“You know my age. Like Denny here says, fair’s fair.”
“Oh. Twenty-five, tomorrow. And a happy birthday to you, too.”
“Thank you.”
Gil has a nice smile, and even in the subdued lighting, Nick can see that his eyes are blue.
“So, you’re from
“Not originally, but I work there.”
“I’ve never been to Vegas,” Nick comments and Gil shrugs.
“Not much to do there, unless you gamble, like Tom Jones, or want a quickie marriage.”
“I wish Susan had wanted a quickie marriage,” Peter grumbles. “I set up a fund for her to go to college; apparently I should have set up another one for her damn wedding. And still two more daughters to go.”
“As you may have gathered, his oldest daughter just got married. That’s why I’m here,” Gil explains to Nick.
“That’s great. Congratulations,” Nick tells Peter.
“Thank you. Hey, Gil, Sean and I need to head on home. The in-laws are coming for an inspection tomorrow, and we need to set up.”
“I know they’re expecting Birdcage and a barefoot butler named Agador, but the most I can offer is a couple of Mapplethorpe posters, and not even the racier ones,” Sean sighs. “You gonna be alright?”
“Fine. The hotel’s just a ten-minute walk from here.”
Nick watches first Peter and then Sean hug Gil goodbye, and then Sean slip his arm around Peter’s waist as they walk out of the bar.
“Yes,” Gil says.
“Yes, what?”
“They’re gay. That’s what you were wondering, isn’t it?” Gil’s tone is dismissive, as if he’s already decided that Nick is some prejudiced redneck, and that pisses Nick off.
“It wasn’t,” he says curtly.
“No? I bet you’re wondering if I’m gay, as well.”
Nick’s cheeks flame in embarrassment, because once he realized that Peter and Sean were a couple, and how comfortable Gil was with them, that’s exactly what he’s been asking himself. The fact that Gil is right only fuels his irritation.
“And what do you think I’ll do, if you are? Follow you out of here and beat you up? Maybe call up a couple of my buddies for a bit of gay-bashing?” he asks in a furious whisper.
Gil gapes at him for a second, then bursts out laughing.
“Denny, you’d better get me that beer now,” he tells the barman, then turns back to Nick. “Okay, let me rephrase that. What I should have said is that I hope you’re taking a personal enough interest in me to wonder if I’m gay.”
Nick feels a silly smile tug at his lips, and he frowns in an effort to suppress it.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says haughtily, and Gil laughs again and moves a little closer.
“Why are you drinking alone on the night before your birthday?” he asks.
Nick shrugs. “Some plans fell through,” he says, then has to fight another grin as he thinks of bootstrap night, which is now starting to seem pretty funny.
“That’s too bad.”
“No. Not really.” He takes a deep drink, gathering his courage. “So, what do you do in Vegas?” he asks awkwardly.
“I’m a crime scene investigator.”
“You’re kidding!” Nick exclaims, forgetting his nerves. “So am I, here in
“Good luck with that,” Gil says, clinking his mug against Nick’s.
Relieved to have found a topic of conversation, Nick starts asking Gil questions about cases and techniques, probably way too many of them, and before he knows it, it’s already midnight, and Denny places a beer in front of him.
“Happy Birthday,” Gil tells him again, and Nick smiles happily.
“How ‘bout a tequila shot?” he suggests, and when Gil agrees, he motions Denny back over. He’s not sure if they end up doing four or five shots each, but he’s starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy, and he’s fighting an almost overwhelming urge to trace the cleft of Gil’s chin first with his finger, and then with his tongue.
“Time to go home, boys,” Denny tells them a while later, wiping his way down the counter towards them, and Nick feels a sharp stab of regret that the night is over.
“You’re not planning on driving, are you?” Gil asks Nick when they’re both standing outside.
“No. I’ll call a cab,” Nick says and starts to reach into his pocket for his cell phone, when he feels the tips of Gil’s fingers against his wrist, and he goes still.
“Or you could come with me,” Gil suggests softly. “And then it’s an easy walk back in the morning to pick up your car.”
“Okay,” Nick whispers, his heart suddenly beating almost painfully. At some point during the night he forgot all about the plan, but now it seems like it’s about to be fulfilled anyway. If Gil is suggesting what Nick thinks he is. Which he must be. He must be. “Uh, Gil? You are gay, right?”
Gil laughs and runs his fingers up Nick’s arm, past his elbow, then down again, making Nick break out in goose bumps. “What do you think?”
Walking beside Gil across the hotel lobby, Nick feels about as conspicuous as he’s ever felt in his life, even though a quick glance around shows that there’s only the night time receptionist, and she’s engrossed in a book.
“You’re shaking,” Gil murmurs once they step into the elevator. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Nick answers hastily, his voice high and nervous. “Everything’s just fine and dandy.” Fine and dandy? Jesus, where did that come from?
Gil smiles that little lop-sided grin that seems to have direct connection to Nick’s groin, but he doesn’t say anything more until they reach his room and are inside. He slides the keycard into the special slot, and Nick hears the ventilation fan whir to life, and a sudden cool draft of air feels good against his overheated skin.
“I just realized I don’t know your name,” Gil says suddenly.
“Oh. It’s Nick.”
“Nick, you haven’t done this before, have you?”
“I…” For a second he considers faking it, but he’s already not fooling Gil. “Not really, no.”
“So, are you sure? Or just curious?”
“Does it make a difference?”
“Yes,” Gil answers, but he doesn’t explain why, just stands there, with his hands on his hips, waiting for Nick to answer.
“I’m sure,” Nick says finally, even though he’s not, but he knows he’s not just curious, either. This is something he’s wanted since college, only he never quite knew how to ask for it, and from whom, because coming out is not so simple when you’re a member of the Stokes family, when you rush the same fraternity your grandfather, father and older brother did, when your father’s name is bandied as a shoo-in for when the next seat in the Texas Supreme Court becomes available.
Gil kisses him then, and it’s hard, and wet, which should be a turn-off, but it’s not, far from it. Nick gasps when he feels Gil’s body press against his, hard flesh where he’s used to a soft yielding, and he slides his hands around Gil’s shoulders, digging his fingers into the muscles there. He gasps again when Gil’s fingers slip between his T-shirt and the waistband of his jeans, and the muscles of his abdomen tighten as Gil traces the ridges, tickling slightly.
“Raise your arms,” Gil whispers against Nick’s mouth, and Nick obeys almost instinctively, and Gil pulls his T-shirt off. “Christ, Nicky, you’re beautiful,” Gil almost groans, and Nick is startled by the nickname, and the adjective, which he’d never associate with himself, and at how hungry and hot Gil’s eyes are, and he can’t stop trembling.
“Come here,” Gil says, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Nick’s jeans and pulling him closer, so that Nick feels the coolness of Gil’s belt buckle against his bare stomach. Gil buries his mouth in Nick’s neck, biting softly and licking at the tendons there, then moves onto down his chest, his lips worrying and sucking at Nick’s nipple. Something hard and painful digging into the Nick’s shoulder blades brings him momentarily back to his senses, and he realizes he’s leaning back against the corner of a closet, almost lying against it, his hips grinding against Gil’s, and that the almost constant moaning he’s been vaguely aware of is himself and he’s almost frightened by how out of control he already feels, when they’re doing nothing but kissing, and he pushes against Gil’s shoulders, trying to put some distance between them.
Gil obviously misunderstands, because he laughs quietly, his breath warm on Nick’s skin, and he drops to his knees, unbuttoning Nick’s jeans and pulling them and his boxers down to mid-thigh in one smooth move. Nick starts to say Gil’s name, but it comes out more like a strangled guhh as his cock is suddenly buried in Gil’s mouth, and his hips jerk once, driving himself further into the moist warmth and he comes. Gil doesn’t pull away, but continues to suck strongly until Nick tangles his fingers into Gil’s curls.
“Stop,” Nick gasps. “I can’t… It’s too…” and he’s embarrassed by how quickly he came, and disappointed that it’s already all over.
Gil stands up and kisses Nick again. Nick can smell himself on Gil’s breath and taste himself on Gil’s tongue, and for a second he’s almost repulsed, but his dick doesn’t seem to have any second thoughts in hardening again.
“Okay so far?” Gil whispers, and Nick nods.
“More?” Gil asks, and Nick nods again, and Gil’s mouth slides into that sexy smirk and he unbuttons his shirt. A little hesitantly Nick reaches out to touch Gil’s bare chest and glide his fingers down Gil’s stomach. Gil’s breath hitches, and Nick slides his hand under the waistband of Gil’s Dockers, his palm flat against Gil’s belly, dipping for a second into Gil’s navel, then following the light treasure trail down until his fingers meet the denser curls. Their eyes locked together, Gil unbuckles his belt, and lowers his zipper, then he inhales sharply and his eyes close when Nick’s hand wraps around his cock. Nick runs his thumb lightly across the tip, feeling the moisture there. He’s not quite ready to do for Gil what Gil did for him, but he slides his hand up and down, marveling at the hardness of the flesh, and at how soft and silky the skin covering it is.
Gil’s hand covers his, making the grip tighter, the pace a little slower.
“Kiss me,” he whispers to Nick, and Nick leans forward, covering Gil’s mouth with his own, thrusting his tongue into Gil’s mouth in the same rhythm as his hand is moving down below. After a while, Gil’s hand tightens on his, causing it to still.
“I’m gonna come if you keep on doing that,” he says.
“So?”
Gil husks a laugh. “Recovery times are a bit slower at forty than at twenty five, especially if one’s been drinking. I guess it depends on you. If you want to fuck me, it doesn’t make much difference, but if you want me to fuck you, we’d better stop for a while.”
“You don’t mind either way?” Nick asks, feeling naïve and stupid.
“It’s up to you,” Gil smiles. “After all, it’s your birthday.”
Nick doesn’t know when he’s going to get another chance at this, and he wants to try everything, but Gil feels impossibly big in his hand. Suddenly awkward that they’ve had this whole conversation, short though it’s been, with him hanging onto Gil’s dick, he loosens his grip.
“I want to…” he starts out, but he can’t quite say it. “It’s stupid, but I’m kinda nervous.”
Gil leans over and kisses him. “It’s not stupid, Nicky. But you can trust me. I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
Nick lets Gil undress him fully, and then draw him to the bed, and he lies down on his back, the sheets cool against his skin. He watches Gil undress, trying to look anywhere but at Gil’s cock. He’s really not sure about this, and only the thought that he’d be reacting like a blushing Southern belle is keeping him from bolting. He grits his teeth when Gil lies next to him.
“Relax,” Gil murmurs against his lips, wrapping his arms around Nick and pulling Nick against the bare length of his body.
They spend a long time just kissing, until Nick starts moving and rubbing his hard-on against Gil’s. Then Gil pushes Nick flat on his back, and he starts kissing, nibbling and licking his way down Nick’s body. Nick’s fingers tangle in Gil’s hair and he just hangs on, moaning whenever Gil hits a particularly sensitive spot, though it seems like every square millimeter of his skin has more nerve endings than he ever knew, and they’re all connected to his cock.
He feels Gil’s breath on his inner thighs, then his lips, and he unthinkingly spreads his legs for Gil.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, when Gil mouths his balls. “I’m gonna shoot.”
Gil pushes his legs up, spreading them further. “Go ahead,” he says, and Nick almost whimpers when Gil’s fingers move behind his balls, teasing his crack.
“Oh, fuck,” he moans, louder this time, and the first spurt hits him on his chin. When it’s over, he realizes that Gil has pushed one finger fully into him, fucking him with it, knocking against his prostate, and his cock starts to harden again almost immediately. “Oh, Jesus, Gil,” he whispers in disbelief, and Gil chuckles and presses a second finger into him. Nick resists the further intrusion at first, then almost jumps out of his skin when he feels Gil’s tongue there, and he can’t believe that this actually happens in real life, not with a perfect stranger at any rate, and he tries to push Gil away, but Gil just hitches his legs further up and wider to give his fingers and tongue better access. Nick finally lets go of Gil’s hair, and he shoves his hands under the pillow underneath his head, clutching at it as his back starts to arch. He’s about to come for a third time, when Gil moves away from him, and he hears the small but recognizable sound of a condom package being ripped open, and a second later something distinctly bigger than Gil’s fingers pushes against his opening and he tenses.
“Bear down, Nicky,” Gil instructs softly, and Nick does as he’s told, trusting Gil, and even though it’s painful, more so than he imagined, and strange, there’s also pleasure, and he closes his eyes and concentrates on that.
“Okay?” he hears Gil ask, and he nods, his eyes still closed, and he feels Gil slowly inch forward until their bellies are pressed together, and then they both lie still, Nick getting used to the sensation of being stretched, his breathing becoming more even, his heart slowing, and he lets go of the pillow and runs his fingers along Gil’s shoulders, feeling relaxed, almost sleepy.
“Wrap your legs around me,” Gil says, and he does so, and Gil starts to move, and now there’s only pleasure, pure, intense, and he raises his hips to meet Gil’s thrusts. He buries his face into Gil’s neck, licking the salty skin, then, as Gil brings him closer and closer to the edge, he pushes his head back against the pillow and pulls Gil tighter against him with his legs. Gil’s movements are growing jerkier, quicker, pushing deeper into Nick.
“Nick. Nicky,” Gil is gasping over and over again, and he finally slumps on top of Nick, still shuddering a little, and Nick comes as well, spurting between their bellies.
After a few minutes Gil starts to push himself off Nick, and Nick tightens his legs and mumbles a sleepy protest.
“I’m crushing you.”
“Nah. It’s nice,” Nick says, and he rubs his cheek against Gil’s.
Gil lies quietly for a few more minutes, then he makes a more determined effort. “I need to get up,” he says, and Nick reluctantly lets him go, groaning a little when Gil slips out of him. He rolls onto his side, stretching his legs straight; he’s starting to feel a little sore, but in a good way, like after a hard workout, even if it’s in muscles he’s never exercised before. His eyes are fluttering shut again, when a cool damp towel drops on him, jerking him awake.
“What the…?”
Gil leans over and briskly rubs the towel against Nick’s stomach, then straightens up, letting Nick do the rest. “I have to be at the airport in a little over an hour. You’re welcome to stay, but I need to shower and pack.” He walks back into the bathroom, and a second later Nick hears the shower start.
The room smells of sex, and Nick gets up to go and open the window, continuing to rub himself down absent-mindedly. Gil’s sudden business-like behavior is disconcerting. Not that he’s expecting anything, he tells himself firmly, it’s just that the change of gears is happening a little too fast for him. He’s putting on his jeans, when Gil walks back into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I think I’ll take off,” Nick says gruffly, trying to ignore how sexy Gil is looking, his hair in damp curls, his eyes a bright blue, water still beading on his skin.
“Nicky,” Gil says, then waits for Nick to finish pulling his T-shirt over his head and meet his eyes. “It was good meeting you. Good luck on your certification, okay?”
“Thank you. For everything,” Nick responds awkwardly. He’s opening the door, when Gil reaches over his shoulder and pushes it shut again. His mouth tastes of toothpaste, and unlike before, the kiss is soft, almost tender.
“Thank you,” Gil says, and smiles, and Nick knows that he’s gone beet-red, which is kind of a pitiful final impression to leave Gil with, but there’s nothing he can do about it.
Nick’s not sure how a New Jersey cop ends up running a CSI team in Las Vegas, but he likes Brass from the first moment he sees him, and within a couple of more minutes he knows that Brass likes him. He hadn’t expected things to be so easy.
“So?” Brass asks him. “Are we set?”
Nick leans back in his chair and smiles. “Yeah. We’re set.”
“Good. Well, shift starts in a couple of minutes, so why don’t I take you around to meet the rest of the team and some of the lab technicians.”
Once Nick’s father was appointed to the Texas Supreme Court, Nick figured it would be best if he moved. Strictly speaking, there was no conflict of interest, but Nick didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with people wondering if he really deserved his position or any promotions he might happen to get. When he saw that a CSI-2 position in
He now follows Brass through the corridors, his stomach filled with butterflies at the thought that he might run into Gil at any second, no matter how illogical that thought is, because there’s nothing to say that Gil is still in
“And that’s pretty much it for now, except for the guy you’re replacing. Ah, speak of the devil,” Brass says, looking over Nick’s shoulder, and Nick swings around anxiously, but again, it’s not Gil, and his stomach settles into a tight knot that he tries to convince himself isn’t disappointment.
It only takes him a couple of days to find a house, and despite only knowing him for three days, both Catherine and Warrick offer to help him move in, an offer he gladly takes them up on. They’re both
“So how was the conference, Grissom?” he hears Warrick ask, as he opens the door to the locker room.
“Long and boring.”
Nick freezes, his heart slamming against his ribs. The voice comes from behind a row of lockers, and after two and a half years, Nick can’t swear it’s who he thinks he is, and he’s suddenly reluctant to find out. Not for the first time it occurs to him that Gil could read something more into Nick’s reasons for coming to Vegas, even if it’s so much later, and somehow at this moment all his rehearsed reasonable explanations don’t seem so reasonable any more. He’s about to walk out of the locker room again, when Warrick, obviously having heard the door, peers around his locker.
“Hey, Nick. You haven’t met the last member of the team yet. Come over here and introduce yourself.”
Nick stalls, opening his own locker and slowly slipping his jacket off. In the time it takes him to do that, he’s aware that somebody has come to stand next to Warrick. He takes a deep breath and turns to face the newcomer.
It’s Gil, but if he recognizes Nick, he certainly gives no sign of it. Of all the eventualities, it’s the one that never occurred to Nick, that Gil wouldn’t actually remember him. But then, why should he? For Gil it was just a one-night stand. He’d been kind, more than kind, and he’d set the standard by which Nick judged all future performances, but at the end of the day, it was just a few hours when both had had a little too much to drink.
He squares his shoulders and extends his hand to Gil. “Hi. I’m Nick Stokes.”
“Gil Grissom,” Gil responds slowly, and shakes Nick’s hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Gil smiles at Nick’s words, that crooked smirk that Nick remembers so well. A second later the door swings shut behind him, and he’s gone.
Avoiding a co-worker at such close quarters is an almost physical impossibility, but for the first four hours of the shift Nick manages it. Until Brass assigns him to a case with Gil, and they’re sitting next to each other on the way to the crime scene. Gil drives and Nick sits with an open map in his lap, trying to memorize the layout of the city and the routes.
“So, where are you from, Nick?”
“
“And you’ve been here a week, right?”
“More like four days.”
“You know, it’s odd. I can’t get over the feeling we’ve met before.”
Nick casts him a suspicious glance, but Gil is concentrating on the road, his face relaxed and guileless.
“No. No, I don’t think so,” he says firmly and Gil just grunts.
They’re stopped at a red traffic light, when Gil speaks again.
“I bet you’re wondering if I’m gay.”
Nick nearly chokes at that, and when the coughing spell is over, he looks at Gil with watering eyes. “Uhm, this must seem weird,” he says, wondering where to start.
“Well, I prefer weird to ego-crushing, if it explains why you pretended to be meeting me for the first time,” Gil responds, making Nick smile.
“It’s just that… Well, you seemed not to remember me, either. And I thought that was probably better, because I didn’t want you to start wondering.”
“I remembered you immediately. I was just surprised. Wondering about what?”
“What I’m doing here,” Nick says in a voice strangled by embarrassment. Aw, fuck, how could he have not envisioned this? And why the hell didn’t he apply for the job in
“Are you implying that I’d think it has something to do with me?”
“No. No, of course not.” Nick wishes his fake laugh didn’t sound so shrill. “Just, you know. Uh. Forget it,” he continues, then snaps his mouth shut, his cheeks on fire.
“Okay,” Gil agrees almost cheerfully as he pulls up at an angle in front of a yellow police tape stretched across the road. He hops out of the truck, and Nick follows at a slower pace, after carefully re-folding the map.
Gil is waiting for him at the open tailgate.
“I thought about you, you know. Wondered if you’d passed the test, whether you were enjoying the work. I asked Peter and Sean if they ever saw you at the bar again.”
“Nah, I just went that one time. It was a spur of the moment thing.”
Gil lifts his kit out. “Lucky for me,” he says, and Nick pauses in reaching for his own kit, and looks at Gil.
“Yeah?” he asks, almost soundlessly.
Gil just smiles at him, his eyes warm. “If there’s nobody else you’re seeing, would you like to have dinner with me Saturday night?”
“No. I mean yes.” Nick laughs at Gil’s raised eyebrow. “I mean no, there’s nobody else, and yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.”
“Your mom once told me that the best idea I ever had in my life was the stupidest,” Nick tells his baby nephew seriously, “so you need to learn not to listen to her, kiddo.”
“When did I do that? Don’t let his head wobble like that, Nick.”
Nick cups Brady’s little bald head with his hand, steadying it. “
“And lucky for me, on that day he wasn’t wearing boots or a jockstrap.”
“I have no idea what you two are talking about, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know, either,” Nick’s sister says briskly. “Now, have you finally decided on where you’re going for your honeymoon?”
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