Title: Nice Day For a White Wedding
By: Carol Trendall
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Rating: PG-13
Note: Written for a Fuh Q Fest two years ago. The elements are; a wedding that someone must stop and the line 'Why are you wearing these clothes?' & just went gay all of a sudden.
Summary: This isn't what it looks like.

***

Who'd've thought Sara Sidle would make such a lovely bride? That was the thought that ran through Nick Stokes mind immediately before he whacked her with the champagne bottle they'd just emptied together.

He had to; the drugs he'd slipped into her champagne glass while she was slipping into her dress were taking way too long to take effect. It was the only course of action, Nick rationalised, as he contemplated the now unconscious woman on the sofa.

He'd borne the knowledge of Sara Sidle and Gil Grissom's growing attraction to each other with good grace and he even managed to convince most people, if not himself, that he was glad they'd found happiness together. He'd choked a little when they started living together but after, when Gil seemed so happy and even smiled at him a few times for no reason, Nick thought he could live with it.

Perhaps if they'd chosen a civil ceremony he might have felt different about their wedding. A barefoot exchange of vows on a beach somewhere or a moonlight pagan ritual, anything really, would have been better that what Sara railroaded Gil into.

It had to be Sara's idea, Nick reasoned. No way would Gil Grissom have chosen a traditional white church wedding with all the bells and whistles. No way would he have wanted seven bridesmaids, two flower girls, a little page boy and a seven course meal for 300 of their closest friends.

And the dress. Nick really was surprised about the dress. He hadn't expected anything so ... frothy. Or white. And he definitely hadn't expected the parasol.

It was the parasol that pushed him over the edge, he realised now. The thought of Gil marrying a woman was bad enough, but a woman with a parasol? Please.

"I'm doing you both a favour," Nick told Sara's unconscious body.

At least he hoped she was unconscious. He checked her vital signs and found she was still breathing, which was good because he really didn't want to have to kill her. He just wanted to stun her. Just for a little while. Just to give him enough time.

He checked his watch. The limousine was due in half an hour. He had just enough time.

Dropping down beside Sara he removed her satin shoes, snorting in disgust as he tossed them aside. They were too small, so he'd have to manage without them. The white net pantyhose were more delicate than he'd anticipated and he nearly tore them, but eventually they came off and were laid carefully on the sofa. The pearl buttons on the dress were a problem; so many and so small and not meant for clumsy masculine figures. He wasted precious extra minutes getting them undone so he could get the dress off unharmed.

The hand tooled white leather corset underneath the fluffy dress surprised him.

"Way to go, Sara." He saluted her in grudging admiration then set to work unlacing the white satin ribbon that held the corset closed.

When Sara was finally naked and her wedding clothes set carefully on the end of the sofa, Nick slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and carried her into her bedroom. When he had her settled on the bed in a way he hoped was comfortable; he locked the door, crossed the hall to the bathroom and disposed of the key down the toilet.

Back in the living room, he gathered up Sara's wedding clothes and got started.

The pantyhose snagged on the rough skin of his heels and he put a thumbhole in the right thigh getting them on. The corset was easier than he'd thought and looked rather fetching if you ignored the fact that the white satin lacing was stretched to its limit and the bra cups were a little ... empty. The wispy lace panties were never going to fit, so he had no choice but to go commando.

The dress itself presented a whole other set of problems. Nick knew he could never do up the hundreds of pearl buttons on his own and even if he could, there was no way the dress would meet across his broad back. The sleeves were tight, too, and he couldn't quite get the dress up over his shoulders. He hoped Gil would think it was supposed to be off the shoulder.

When he picked up the veil he thanked Sara's bad taste for providing an unexpected answer to his dress problems. The veil was enormous and even frothier than the dress. The floor length train easily covered the foot wide gap at the back of the dress and draped nicely over his shoulders, so there was no way anyone could tell who was under it.

Feeling more than a little pleased with himself, Nick decided to try the shoes he'd abandoned earlier. Sara had chosen a mule rather than a pump and he managed to jam his toes and enough of his feet into them. He was pleased. It would be shame not to wear the whole ensemble. Except for the parasol, of course. He wasn't taking the parasol.

The limousine arrived and Nick tested his walking ability on the way to the door. Not bad, he decided as he opened the door to the tuxedo clad chauffeur.

"Good afternoon, Miss Sidle," the man said, sweeping into a low bow. "You make a lovely bride, if I may say so. And it's a nice day for a white wedding."

"Ah ... yeah ... thanks," Nick said, forgetting that his voice did not match his outfit.

When the driver looked askance, Nick coughed and pointed at a spot on the veil that vaguely approximated his throat. "Got a cold." His really bad falsetto was only slightly convincing.

The driver, who looked like he'd seen it all before anyway, shrugged and escorted Nick out to the waiting limousine, even patting his ass as he helped 'the bride' into the back seat.

Nick didn't start to get nervous until the driver began giving a running commentary. After ten minutes of wedding horror stories, sex in the backseat on the way to the reception stories and even a story of how a bride once blew him on the way to her own wedding, Nick had had enough. He leaned forward, thrust one hand around the seat and gripped the driver by the throat.

"Shut the fuck up and just drive," he growled, not letting go until the man muttered an apology.

Nick didn't know what he would do when he arrived at the church. All he had wanted was to stop Gil Grissom marrying Sara Sidle. He hadn't thought this next bit through, so he had no plan.

When the limousine finally arrived at the church it struck him. He would walk down the aisle in Sara's dress and reveal himself to Gil at the altar. It was a good plan.

It was a good plan provided no one noticed the bride was suddenly a head taller and good deal broader. It was a good plan if he could get past the seven bridesmaids, two flower girls and one little pageboy.

Nick launched himself out of the limousine, holding the dress up like he'd seen Sara do when she modelled the outfit for him earlier in the day. He wobbled a little on the too small shoes, but regained his balance when the minister who had been waiting on the steps made a move in his direction. He shoved past the confused man and into the entry area, keeping an eye out for the bridesmaids he knew must be around somewhere.

Luck was with him. He heard the murmur of women's voices from behind a door to the left and remembered that Sara had told him the bridesmaids would be waiting for her there. He made a pleased sound that was supposed to be a laugh but came out like a cackle and pushed open the double doors leading into the main body of the church.

The sudden appearance of the bride caused a mutter to ripple through the crowd. Someone nudged the organist and the bridal march echoed around the cavernous room. Nick knew there was no time to waste. The bridesmaids would hear the music and realise something was wrong. The minister would catch up with him. He had to act now. Hitching up his skirts, he kicked off Sara's undersized satin mules and charged headlong down the aisle to declare his love for the main waiting there. The assembled crowd gasped as one.

Nick saw Gil's eyes widen as he realised the bride bearing down on him was not Sara. The hubbub from the crowd grew as questions were being asked.

"What's going on? Where's Sara?" Gil demanded when the unknown bride was in front of him.

Taking a moment to drink in the sight of Gil Grissom in a perfectly tailored grey morning suit that fit in all the right places, Nick drew a breath.

"Sara can't make it."

"Nick? Is that you? What do you mean, Sara can't make it? What's going on?"

The seven bridesmaids, two flower girls and one little pageboy had found their way out of the waiting room and were charging down the aisle towards them. Nick shot a warning glance their way and they slowed just for a second.

Gil grew agitated. "Nick, if this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny."

"This is no joke, Gil. I'm deadly serious."

Gil frowned and shook his head. "But why are you wearing these clothes?"

Nick thought for a second then smiled when what he thought would be a witty riposte entered his head.

"Because I just went gay all of a sudden!"

Before Gil had a chance to reply and before Nick could do anything else, a bloodcurdling scream came from the other end of the church. 300 heads turned to see Sara Sidle flying down the aisle brandishing a parasol in one hand and in the other, something Nick recognised as an empty champagne bottle.

He screamed. Right before he fainted.


"Nick! Nick! It's OK."

Gil's voice was reassuring in his ear and warm, gentle hands stroked him.

"Wake up, babe. It's OK. C'mon, Nicky, you're scaring me."

When Nick finally worked up the courage to open his eyes, the church was gone and he was back in his own bed.

With Gil beside him.

"Oh, man," he said when he saw the concerned eyes of his lover. "What happened?"

"You tell me. One minute I'm fast asleep, the next you're screaming like the world's about to end."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Nick thought about the dream images still fluttering about at the edge of his consciousness.

"It was. I dreamed you were going to marry Sara."

Amusement crinkled the corner of Gil's eyes. "Sara? Where did that come from?"

"Don't laugh! It was horrible. You should have seen the dress."

Laughing, Gil slid his hand along Nick's chest, letting it rest over his still pounding heart.

"Your heart's still racing. It must have been a really awful dress."

"She had a fucking parasol, Gil. And you had a grey morning coat ... with a cravat."

"Did I have a top hat?"

"Fuck you!" Nick chuckled, despite his lover's teasing.

"Well, now that you're awake ..." Gil slid his hand down Nick's body and onto his cock.

Nick moaned softly and closed his eyes, still smiling. He curled against Gil and kissed his throat.

"I'll try not to call Sara's name when I come," Gil teased, laughing against Nick's hair.

"Oh man, you're something else." Nick pulled back and looked at Gil who was grinning like the proverbial cheshire cat. "I can't believe you said that." He tried for offended, but only managed to look hot.

Gil's eyes were bright with amusement and he was more than a little turned on. "You worried about Sara, Nicky? You think I got a thing for her?"

Nick grinned back, a little predatory. He slid his hand down Gil's flank and cupped his butt, pulling their bodies together.

"No way I'm worried about Sara. I got more to offer."

"Oh, I know it." He was still laughing.

Right up to the time Nick swallowed him whole.

***