Title: Hell-o Jell-O
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9047
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes and some familiar faces!
Warnings: V.fluffy and AU
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine
Unbeta-ed: All mistakes will be mine
A/N 1: Just a bit of nonsense as an anti-dote to "˜The Enemy'!!

***

Hell-o Jell-O or Oblivious!  (I couldn't decide...)

An endless stream of sensations assaulted Nick all at once.

A familiar brand of fabric softener nearly overwhelmed his nose (and stomach) as his face was squashed into a pillow.

His bladder was so full his belly ached.

The light streaming into his almost still closed eyes hurt his brain right to the back of his skull.

He was very hot from something firm pressed against the length of the back of his body.

There was a weight and tightness of something holding him fast around his middle.

But then his eyes flew open, and the pain was intense and the nausea nearly overwhelming at the sudden movement of his eyelids, because he'd realised, as he'd tried to move from his tight predicament, that there was a dick in his crack. It was unmistakeable even through several layers of clothing.

"Don't move suddenly..."  A voice spoke to him, slurred and gravelly but undoubtedly Gil Grissom's.  "My bladder and my stomach are vying to lose their contents, simultaneously.

"Nod your head if you know why we're sleeping in a child's single bed, fully dressed."

Nick didn't know, exactly, why they were where they were so he couldn't nod his head; he couldn't shake it either because he did have a very good idea so he kind of shrugged his shoulders.

"Jell-O shots?"  Grissom enquired.

Nick nodded this time.

"Oh God.  I'm going to try moving slowly onto my back and then try and stand...do you know where the bathroom is from where we are?"

"No."  Nick mumbled, his head still pressed, very firmly, into the pillow and he was very reluctant to move it for fear of the consequences perfectly described by Grissom.

"Got to go.  I'll have to make a guess.  I think it will be impossible to try to reason its precise whereabouts."

He started to move his arm away from around Nick but he stopped still and Nick heard a small intake of breath.   He'd discovered, Nick guessed, the precise whereabouts of his semi-erect penis.   And almost involuntarily Nick wiggled his ass just a little to make the dick even more comfortable and, he smirked into the pillow, harder.   A nice feeling...a very nice feeling...

They were so close that Nick heard Gil swallow and take a couple of deep breaths and then he spoke.

"Excuse me.  I really need to...I'm sorry about...anyway..."  Gil moved and the bed groaned and moved quite alarmingly as he tried to get up.  It was more difficult than he'd imagined...the bed was very narrow and he very nearly fell off it as he turned away from Nick and discovered half his back was hovering in space.  He put a foot down onto the floor and steadied himself.  He was really desperate for a piss.  He reasoned for a few moments and knew he wouldn't be able to get up from the position in which he was currently stuck.

"I can't get up.  I'm going to have to ease myself onto the floor and then stand up...if I can, without pissing myself.  I'm not going to mention vomiting."

Nick snorted into the pillow.  So why did he mention it?

Grissom was groaning but he did seem to have left the bed and was now using the bed to lever himself up from the floor.  Nick could move a little but decided to wait until Grissom had gone before he rolled onto his back.  He didn't want to eyeball the man whose dick had been nestled in his crack.  He was aware that Grissom was now standing, shading him from the offending light, and still groaning; he moved away from the bed since Nick was suddenly in the painful light again.

He rolled onto his back and stared through half closed eyelids at the ceiling as he tried to remember what had happened.

A bar.  The team.  Catherine.  Catherine's house.  Jell-O shots.  That was the order he was working on...but he could only see him and Grissom and Catherine.  The truck.  He drove the three of them to Catherine's house and they all came inside and started taking Jell-O shots.  That was it.

How come he, they, ended up in a child's bedroom...a girl's bedroom in pink?  Lindsay wasn't that young, was she?  He has some serious gaps in his memory.  He lay there for what seemed like hours before Grissom returned.

"I found it; turn right, last door on right...second door's a storage cupboard."  Grissom came back to the room and leaned on the door jamb.  He looked bad.  Real bed.  Green.  The shots had been green; Nick remembered that now.

Nick sat up, very gingerly, and swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed.  He still had on his work boots.  He stood up and understood why Grissom had been groaning.  It was the only thing to do when you felt this bad.  Grissom slid aside to let him pass but still didn't relinquish his door jamb...it was probably holding him up, Nick surmised.  He understood.  Completely.

He pissed forever...well it seemed like that...and then washed his hands and bent over the sink to drench his face and his neck in cold water.  He gulped some water into his mouth using his hand.  The immediate need to vomit had passed.  But his head...it was the worst head he'd had since college, and then some.

He staggered out of the bathroom and Grissom hadn't moved. And Nick noticed that his shirt was wet all around his neck and chest just as his own was.  Gil had soaked his face and neck in water, too.

"I think we got here in your truck?"

"I thought that."

"I doubt you're safe to drive.  You'd fail a test.  A taxi?"

"Sure."

"I'm going to try moving and going downstairs.  Did you vomit?"

"No, you?"

"Yes.  Did Catherine force us to drink?"

"I don't think so."

"I didn't think so either, so we got into this piss poor state of our own volition?"

"Yeah."  Fuck: Grissom was talkative and it was hurting his head.

"I can hardly believe it.  I have never felt so bad...so bad...from drink.  For a very long time."

"Me neither."  Grissom hadn't moved so Nick started to walk toward the stairs and Grissom followed and they carefully negotiated the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a note on a small table in the lobby...together with Nick's keys.

"Gone out.  Help yourself to breakfast. C x."  Nick read it aloud.  "I couldn't eat a thing; you?"

"No.  Drink.  Coffee."

"Good idea.  Then I'll call a cab."

Gil found some instant coffee and he made two mugs of coffee and gave one to Nick and had one himself.  No cream but quite a lot of sugar.  Probably best, thought Nick. They sat, in silence, at the kitchen table sipping their drinks.   Nick felt better for the drink and took a sly look at Gil over the rim of his mug...who, if looks were anything to go by looked as bad as he had earlier.  Nick was sure his skin was green tinged and he couldn't help but smile to himself.  The Great Grissom...pissed.

Okay, he was in the same boat, but not quite as bad.

Gil mumbled to Nick.  "I would search for some Tylenol if I thought I could keep them down."

"That's not a bad idea.  For me that is, if you don't think you could swallow them."  He got up from the table and began opening the cupboards in the kitchen...he had a bottle of Tylenol in a kitchen cupboard at home...but he couldn't find one here.  "Nothing; the thought of climbing the stairs in search of a bathroom cabinet is too much...although...it would be a legitimate excuse to take a look at Catherine's bedroom."

Gil looked up from his coffee and gave him an incredulous look.  "Why would you want to look at Catherine's bedroom?"

"You know?  Just have a look around see what she has...colour scheme...you know..."  He sounded dumb to his own ears; God knows what Gil would think of him.

"No, I do not know."  Gil looked at the ceiling for a moment and then spoke again.  "Except we are inquisitive by nature given our jobs."

Nick grinned at Gil's own excuse for him.  "Yeah.  That's right."

"You're feeling better if you can grin like a Cheshire cat...don't your face muscles ache from doing that?"

"No."  He laughed, but not loudly.  "I grin a lot so the muscles are accustomed to it."

Even Grissom smirked at that.  "You do.  You have what my mother would call, a sunny disposition."  Nick was sure he being sarcastic.

"You think?"

"Why?  Haven't you?"

"I'm not unduly depressed, but sunny seems a little extreme.  Kind of a childish characteristic."

"True.  In fact that's what my mother would say about my school friends if one would ever happen to visit.  She would try to make me sunnier..."  Now Nick did laugh out loud and Grissom's face wrinkled into a frown, the noise obviously reverberating in his head.

"Sorry." Nick was apologising for the noise he'd made.

"That's okay; I wasn't sunny and school friends would only visit once, usually; no one seemed that keen on bugs and...and dead things."  Gil had thought Nick was laughing at his mother trying to make him sunnier.

Nick stared at Grissom.  "Dead things?  What kind of dead things?"

"Roadkill.  Stuff I found in the beach.  Anything dead."

"Right.  And your Mom would let you take it into the house?"  Nick was thinking about his own Mom having a freaking fit if he...or any of them...had brought roadkill into the house.

"She didn't really know until after the event and then of course I would have to remove it.  Usually when she smelled it."

"To be honest, Gris, I think I'm with your Mom on that."  Nick was impressed that Grissom was sharing personal stuff with him.

"Yes.  Do you want to get a taxi?"

"I reckon if I have another coffee I should be okay to drive."

Grissom raised his eyebrows although it was obviously a strain to do so.  "I don't think so...you've had sufficient alcohol for it to be in your bloodstream for up to twenty four hours and for ten to fifteen of those hours you would be considered over the limit."

"You reckon?"  Nick knew that he was right.

Grissom didn't speak but gave Nick a withering look and it reminded Nick of the frequent such looks he'd had from him over the years.  You should know better looks...made him feel small and inadequate.   Just like now.  Stupid that he'd thought they could be best buds because Grissom had shared some childhood memories.

"I'll call a taxi."  He said in as business-like manner as he could muster.  He felt his pockets for his cell phone.  Not there.  "My cell must be upstairs."  He left to go back upstairs.

"I have mine."  Grissom called after him.

"I still need to find mine."  He went upstairs and found the bathroom again.  He checked the cabinet and there was a packet of Tylenol Extra strength.  He put it in his pocket and went looking for the bedroom in which he'd slept...with Grissom.  His cell was lying on the bed; he hadn't noticed it earlier.  He pocketed that too and went back downstairs.

In the kitchen he produced the Tylenol.  "I'm going to make another coffee, do you want one?"

"Please.  Find your cell?"

"Yeah."

"Have I done something wrong?  You suddenly seem...frosty."

Nick looked at him as if he'd grown two heads.  How on God's earth would Grissom notice a change in temperature?  Wasn't the man fucking blind to emotions?

"I'm fine.  Headache."  He took a glass from a cupboard and ran some cold water into it and took two of the capsules.

"I think I'd better try taking some or this head will never go."  Nick swilled out his glass and then gave Grissom the same glass filled with water and Grissom took two of the capsules too, and then steadily downed the whole glass of water and then belched.

"I beg your pardon."  He seemed as surprised as Nick.

"Okay. Better out than in, it'd give you indigestion."

"Probably."  Nick made the coffees and sat down again.  "Why did we drink here at Catherine's?  Can you remember?"

"Not really.  I'd had quite a bit to drink at the bar and so had Catherine.  But you didn't, did you, because you drove us back here.  I think you were going to take me home but Catherine insisted we had another drink here with her...and that you had one because you'd only been on lite beer or soda."

"That's right...but shots?  I haven't done shots for years."

"I've never done Jell-O shots...tequila maybe...never Jell- O."

"Was Catherine drinking...because she was up and out early...can she hold her liquor?"

"She was doing shots...she was doing red shots...we were doing green shots...lime."

"Yeah...I remember now.  Weird."  They both sat in silence for a few minutes and then Nick got up and Gil watched him go to the fridge.  He opened the door and took out first one plastic tray with four red shots on it and then a tray with two green shots left.  Nick dipped his finger into a green one and put it into his mouth.  "Oh, man.  Vodka...a lot of vodka."  He dipped his finger into a red shot and put that in his mouth and then he dipped his finger in again and sucked it...

"No vodka."  Gil stated the fact. 

"Jell-O.  Now this is interesting."  Nick finished off the red shot.  "Why would Catherine want us drunk?"

"How many bedrooms are there in this house?"

"Four.  Four, at least."

"So why..."

"...were we in one small single bed together.  There's some weird shit going on here."

"Are you ready to get a taxi?"

"Yeah."

"We need to get to the bottom of this...this is not some kind of co-incidence."

"I agree."

The taxi arrived about twenty minutes after Nick called.  In the meantime Nick had checked out the bedrooms and there were four.  Catherine's...a sunny room painted in a lemon, almost yellow colour with white accessories.  Next, he guessed, was Lindsay's room...in a very dark, almost maroon, pink; and then a real guest room in creams and then the child's pink room where he'd slept with Grissom.

They'd been set up; he had absolutely no doubt about that...but why?

They shared the taxi agreeing to go to Gil's house to drop him off first.  Nick's head was slightly better and Gil didn't think he was going to vomit again.

***

They sat beside each other in the back of the taxi sipping from bottles of water taken from Catherine's fridge.  They'd been sitting in silence but Gil suddenly spoke.

"We're investigators at the top of our game.  We should be able to figure this out."

"I'm at the top of my game?"

"Of course you are, why do you ask?"

"Are you sure?  You've never said that before."

"What's with the false modesty?"

"False...  Grissom, you have spent the best part of seven or eight years making me believe that I wasn't quite up to it...not in the same league as the others."  Nick wanted to shout but his head had not recovered sufficiently.

"Now you're being ridiculous.  Your evaluations have been the best and you know it..."

"...not as good as Sarah's or Warrick's...and now Greg's your blue eyed boy."  Nick really didn't want to say these things but he thought he must still be much drunker than he realised because he just couldn't stop his mouth from opening and the words from spewing out.

"Have you seen their evaluations?  They've shown them to you?"

"No, but they've said what's in them."

Gil huffed...or at least Nick thought it sounded like that.  "So you've taken their word for what I've written about them?  Maybe you're not at the top of your game after all."  He ended with sarcasm.

"I have no reason to disbelieve them; they're supposed to be truthful, after all they're in law enforcement and can't you make your mind up now?"

"My mind up about what?"

"About me being at the top of my game."

"For Christ's sake Nick, my head is pounding, my stomach is just about holding on and you want to argue about what I said and what I mean."

"Not really.  So my evals were better then?"  He smiled to himself.

"Better than some, the same as others...but certainly no worse than anyone else's.  Look can we get back to the problem of Catherine and why she got us drunk?"

"Is there any information that she knows about us?  Personal stuff?"

"I have no idea...I suppose she has accumulated knowledge of both of us from the years we've worked together.  What are you getting at?"

Nick thought for a minute or two, took a several gulps of his water and then a deep breath.  "Are you gay?"  The taxi swerved, very slightly.

"Wha...what are you getting at?"  Grissom didn't move but stared ahead.

"Because I am and Catherine and Warrick...and probably Greg and Sara...know.  Catherine's being trying to set me up because I made the mistake of telling her that I couldn't find the right guy."

Grissom still didn't move and thought for a moment or two and then spoke.  "I take back what I said about you being at the top of your game...because if you were stupid enough to tell Catherine that...then you deserve everything you get."  He huffed again.

"Holy shit!"  Nick wanted to laugh but he was a bit too shocked.  "You are gay aren't you, she knows...and she's trying to set us up...that's it, isn't it?"  Nick was actually feeling pleased with himself for figuring it out, at least for a few seconds before he realised that she had tried to match make him with...Grissom...  Then he swallowed and took another swig of his water and decided to keep quiet.

Grissom whispered angrily.  "Wait "˜til I get my hands on her."

"Yeah.  Me too."  Nick agreed although he remembered he was supposed to be keeping his mouth zipped.  But then he thought about it...Grissom was blowing him away.  Dumping him!  The cheek of the man...he was a good catch.  Catherine had said so herself.  And he just couldn't resist speaking again.  The drink.  "So you're blowing me away.  Not even going to consider me at all.  Well thanks for nothing."   Out of the corner of his eye he saw Grissom swivel his head around slowly to look at him.

Nick did the same until they were looking directly at each other.  Neither man spoke just looked and Nick remembered to keep his mouth shut this time.

"What?  You want to go out on a date?  With me?"  Grissom almost whispered the three questions, his voice suddenly rasping.

"Why not?  Yeah."  Nick was trying for dead nonchalance.  It must have worked because Grissom's eyebrows shot up and he spoke almost normally.

"Your enthusiasm is contagious."   There was that sarcasm again.

"Listen here...if you're getting that much action that you can afford to pass over a date with me...then that's fine..."  Nick could do sarcasm as good as the next man.

"...and if you were getting that much you wouldn't be begging Catherine to find you a date."

"I did not beg her...I mentioned it in passing...anyway she set you up with me."

"But I did not beg her, I never spoke to her about it and this has come as a complete shock."

Just then the taxi driver turned around and spoke to them

"We've at the first address; will you decide if you're going out on a date; or you can both get out and pay me now."

"Pay the man and come inside...we have unfinished business."  Demanded Grissom of Nick.

Nick, ever obedient, did has he was told.  Then followed Grissom to his front door; Grissom was fumbling with his keys and had some difficulty matching the key to the lock but eventually the door swung open and he staggered into his home and over to an alarm panel on the wall.  He pressed a few buttons and sighed.

"The last thing we need is that blaring out the intruder alert."

"Yeah."  Nick had followed him in and just stood still in the middle of the room his water bottle dangling from his fingers.  He had no idea whatsoever why he was here.  This is what drink did to you...completely deprived you of any common sense.  What exactly was Grissom's unfinished business?  "What unfinished business do you mean?"

"You want to go out...I mean you wouldn't...mind going out on a date with me?"

"Mind?  Why would I mind?"

"Take a look, Nick.  I'm how much older than you...fifteen, twenty years?  I'm overweight...you're...you're in good...condition...shape.  I'm a...well, almost, an obsessive compulsive.  I'm not.  Not.  Date material."

Nick had to bite his lower lip from trying not to laugh.  He was sure Grissom noticed.  "I was born in seventy-one, you?"

"Fifty-six."

"Oh yeah, I remember, Millander.   That's fifteen years then and that's exact isn't it, "˜cause our birthdays are one after the other.  I work out, so, that's my personal preference.  You're obsessive...don't you think we all are to a degree...or we wouldn't be doing the job we do; okay there is the bugs.  The cockroach racing."

"So you'd go out with me?"  It looked to Nick as if Grissom was almost smiling.  "Really?"

"Yeah."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic, I must say."

"Man!"  Nick whined.  "I've got a bad head, I feel sick.  I need a shower...clean my teeth...some more sleep.  It's not like I'm raring to go this minute."

"No, no, of course not.  I knew you were gay you know...didn't think I stood a chance though.  You being..."

"What?"

"Texan?"

"Texan?  What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing."

"Are you still drunk, do you think?"

"Yes, yes, I think I am."  It was as if Nick had provided the perfect solution to Grissom's behaviour although it could have been true.

"So I'll call another cab and go home."

"Good idea."

"Do you want to fix a date then?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"When?"  Jesus, Nick decided this was really hard going.  It must be the drink....or maybe this was Grissom's normal.  Yeah, it probable was, he surmised.

"Tonight.  If you get a taxi back here later...I can take you over to Catherine's to collect your truck before work."

"That's your idea of a date....giving me a lift to Catherine's to collect my truck?"  Nick was losing his mind, he was sure.

"No.  No.  Come here earlier and I can...I can cook?"  He sounded like that was the first thing that had popped into his brain.

"You cook?"

"I cook.  What do you like?"

"Fish?  Salad?"

"Salmon fillets with a side of salad; I can do that."

Hallelujah!  "Okay, yeah, good.  I'll call a cab."  He used his cell and called for a cab.

"Do you want another drink while you wait?"  They were still just standing in the middle of the room.

"I'm okay, thanks.  What time?

"Err...five?"

"Good time, yeah."  A horn honked outside.  "That was quick.  See you later then."

"Yes."  They stood looking at one another and then Nick grinned and Gil smiled and nodded at him to go.

When Nick got into the cab it was the same driver.

"You guys sort yourselves out?"

"Yeah, we did."

"For what it's worth I think you're made for one another.  You're a couple of doozies."

"Oh.  Yeah.  You're probably right."  Nick agreed as he sat back in the seat and grinned quite happily regardless of the insult.

***

When he got home Nick drank a juice and took another couple of Tylenol Extra capsules...he'd actually accidentally pocketed Catherine's pack.  Served her right, he reckoned, for getting him into the state where he needed them.

When he got to his bedroom he threw all his clothes off and left them on the floor where they landed.  He cleaned his teeth for about three minutes and then used a mouth wash to finish off.  He took a luke warm shower and didn't jerk off because, despite his impending date, Little Nicky was feeling quite delicate and not up to the task; in keeping with Big Nicky who was pretty much in the same state.

He drank some more water after drying off and crawled into bed.  He must have had four or five hours sleep at Catherine's but it was more of a drunken stupor than sleep.  He chuckled under the bedclothes.  Who would have ever thought that Grissom was gay and that he had a date with him?  He couldn't wait to tell Sara.  Although...maybe not.  That would be suicidal.

After Nick left Gil staggered to his bedroom and standing by his laundry basket slowly took off all his clothes and threw them into the basket.  He was so weary he was moving at a snail's pace.  He cleaned his teeth and nearly vomited again with the toothbrush in his mouth so he quickly finished and drank what he thought was about two pints of water from the faucet using his cupped hands.  He had a scalding hot shower and masturbating never even crossed his mind.

When he crawled under his sheets, still quite damp from his shower, he chuckled to himself.  After all these years he had a date with Nick Stokes.  With his luck it'd probably be just the one date and then Nick would come to his senses.  But it was one more date than he'd had in six, seven, maybe eight years.  No one could ever accuse him of being promiscuous.

Luckily it wasn't the same taxi driver who called for Nick at four thirty that afternoon. In the light of day and sobriety he was embarrassed about his display in the back of the taxi that morning.  The driver had called them both doozies....with good cause in Nick's opinion and he flushed slightly at the memory.  He had tried not to think about Grissom too much because, frankly, he wasn't that certain that Grissom was sober enough to have realised that he was going on a date with Nick.

Nick had jerked off under his shower but had found it difficult to conjure up a picture of Grissom in his mind's eye, sucking him off, or fingering him...it was just an image too far.  So he had to make do with Indiana Jones, a la Raiders, still one of his favourite characters and film.  

Maybe...when he finally arrived at Grissom's house for the date, Grissom would have forgotten...no, he never forgot anything...but maybe he'd have changed his mind.  Nick thought that he should have called ahead just to confirm.  No, that was stupid...how old was he?  It was a date...but it would probably be their first and last.  Grissom would not be looking for a relationship with an ex-college jock, science degree or not.  And he was Texan...whatever that meant to Grissom.

Whoa...relationship?  Where had that come from?  Nick was fast getting hot and bothered in the back of the taxi.

Gil woke up with a raging hard-on.  Not that unusual, it was a normal male occurrence.  Except for the raging bit and the lingering image of Nick Stokes, mouth open and ready to suck.  He staggered to the bathroom to take a leak but couldn't because his erection was too hard to let urine pass.  He would have to masturbate.  He let the water heat up before stepping into his shower and fisted himself furiously until he came, slashing his tiles with ejaculate.

When he'd sufficiently recovered he had to get out of the shower and, dripping wet, emptied his bladder.  And then got back under the water to shower, making sure to wash the tiles.  When he got out for the second time he towelled himself dry, properly, and studied his face in the mirror before shaving.  He looked pretty bad.  Red, bloodshot eyes, bags under them bigger than ever and he looked pasty despite his tanned face.

Coffee...several pots and maybe he'd feel, and look, a little better.  He shaved and then dressed for his date...in his work clothes; his reasoning that they would have to go to work almost immediately after dinner to make the detour to Catherine's house.

He had all the salad ingredients and had two fresh salmon fillets that he was going to eat himself.  He wrapped both in foil with butter and herbs, ready to poach in the oven.  He then prepared the salad.  He thought neither of them would want to drink anything alcoholic before work...or after last night...so didn't bother putting wine on the table or checking how much beer there was in the fridge.

While he was busy he wasn't thinking about the imminent date with Nick, but as soon as he'd finished and tidied away the detritus of his preparation he started getting nervous.  The palms of his hands were sweaty and he stared at the treacherous limbs.  He was behaving like a teenager.   To try and take his mind of it he started to look for some music to seduce Nick by...who was he kidding?  And the doorbell sounded, making him jump.  He looked at his watch...over ten minutes early but Nick had had to use a taxi so he supposed he couldn't gauge the correct time to arrive.  Was it right to arrive ten minutes early?  Was it fashionable to arrive late?

He answered the door.  "Come on in, Nick.  How are you feeling?"  That wasn't too bad and he hadn't rehearsed what to say.

"Thanks.  Okay...not a hundred percent but I'm hungry so that's a good sign.  I was going to bring some Jell-O shots but thought better of it."  He smiled at Grissom.

"Why on earth, after our experience last night, would you...oh, you're joking.  Sorry.  I'm still not up to par."

"Yeah, not as young as we were."

"I'm not, that's for certain."

"Sorry, Gris, I didn't mean you were old...no...sorry..."  Idiot, he thought.

"That's okay, I'm not offended and you did use the plural, "˜we'."

"Yeah, I did."  Nick's smile had faded and he began to think he'd made a terrible mistake in getting this date with Grissom; but too late...he was here.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Oh...juice, soda, water...yeah, water would be best, still rehydrating."

"I drank so much before I went to bed that I thought my bladder..."  Gil then remembered that mentioning his hard-on wasn't an option. "...was...about to burst."  He finished with a flourish.

Nick was wondering why he'd started so confidently and then stalled and then finished the sentence with a...flourish.  That was interesting.  "Yeah, me too.  Thought I'd never stop once I started."  That was his truth but he suspected that Grissom's version wasn't.  Maybe he was having trouble with his prostate.

Now this, he thought, had been a problem he' on the dates he'd had with men who were strangers.  His job made him suspicious.  He looked for tells.  And there was Grissom starting off with a lie or at best a half truth.

"Nick?  Nick?"

"Sorry, day dreaming.  Still not up to scratch but I'll probably be better with some food inside me...I haven't eaten anything since last night at the bar...that chilli burger."  He remembered Gris had had the same.

"Same here...I mean I haven't eaten since I had the burger, either."  Gil thought this was going downhill fast.  He was behaving moronically and Nick wasn't doing much better.  This was a bad idea.

"Do you need any help?  Cooking?"

"No, no, the salmon needs poaching for a few minutes and I got the salad ready just before you arrived.  I was looking for some music when you arrived."

"What have you got?  Big Rich?  Taylor Swift?  Vivaldi's Double Violin concerto?"

Gil had opened his mouth to state that he categorically did not have Big...or Taylor...when Nick mentioned the Vivaldi.  One of his favourite pieces.  "That's a strange choice."

"Is it?"  Nick feigned surprise that his choice would be questioned.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that you wouldn't...it's just...that...sorry."  He shut up; he was making a fucking mess of this and at this rate Nick would be leaving before they ate.

But Nick grinned then; a normal Nick grin and everything seemed okay again.  Nick's grin did that to him.

"You were listening to it in your office a couple of years ago and it sounded just like something my Mom would like, so I checked it out when you went out and ordered it off of Amazon for her birthday."

"And did she like it?"

"Loved it.  But then she loves everything I buy for her, unconditionally, since I'm her baby."  He rolled his eyes as he explained.

"That's nice, Nick.  Very nice."  What impressed Gil was that Nick remembered what it was when he said it was several years ago.  "I think I'd better put the salmon on to cook, and I haven't got your water yet."  He smiled at Nick and threw his arm out at his considerable CD collection.  "See if you can find something you like."

Nick was holding a CD when Gil came back.  "This would be good, remind me of home."

Surely there was not one piece of music in his entire collection that would remind Nick of Texas.  Maybe Copland's Rodeo would fit the bill.  They swapped water for CD and Gil looked at the disc and then at Nick.

"The Four Seasons?"

"Yeah, I told you Mom liked Vivaldi...and if she liked it we all had to like it...but I've always loved it; apparently she used to play it while she breast fed me."

"Subliminal suggestion.  It reminds you of something pleasurable."

"Yeah...but I'm gay and have never really been into breasts....women's breasts."

"Men's breasts are just as sensitive and can be aroused in the same manner..."

"...yeah, I know."  The problem with Nick's statement was that his voice had dropped at least an octave and reverted to a Texan drawl.  Gil would swear on oath that his own nipples had hardened at just the utterance of the three words.

Gil swallowed and whispered.  "I'm sure you do."

Nick smiled, took the cap off his water bottle and took a long gulp from the bottle...his eyes never leaving Gil's.

"I'd better get the food ready."  He swallowed again...he was salivating and it wasn't for the food.

"I'm starving."  Nick spoke almost normally again.  "Can't do anything on an empty stomach."  And his intention was telegraphed loud and clear to Gil who now added a hard penis to his nipples.

Nick followed Grissom into the kitchen area and watched as Gil put the foil packages into the already heated oven.

"They'll be ready in a few minutes."  He went to the fridge and took out the bowl of salad he'd prepared and took it to the table, already set with flatware and condiments.  All the time acutely aware of Nick's eyes following him.

"The salmon will only takes eight minutes...he checked the timer, six now."  Had it only been two minutes...it seemed like two hours.

"We don't want to spoil it do we...and I am starving, but..."

Nick walked right up to Grissom, who was leaning with his back against the kitchen counter and he pressed himself to him and kissed him.  Gil couldn't move but then realised he didn't want to move so he opened his mouth and was assaulted by a wet and minty tongue.  It slid around his mouth up and down his tongue and around his teeth and tickled his palate.  His hands went around Nick's waist and pulled him to him, Nick's arms were around his shoulders.  He pushed his own tongue past Nick's and into Nick's mouth and mirrored Nick's moves in his own mouth.

Both men could plainly feel the other's erection through the material of two sets of their underpants and pants.  It felt familiar to Nick.  They were both gently swivelling their hips into each other and the sensation was...sensational.

***

The timer announcing the salmon was ready had come and gone...much the same as Gil and Nick. The continued friction with their hips had quickly bought the men to the point of no return and Nick slipped down onto his knees and unzipped Gil and performed extremely creditable fellatio, in Gil's opinion, who then felt he'd rather embarrassingly come within (probably) a minute.  Who cared?  Gil certainly didn't and as he recovered his breath he pulled Nick back up from his knees and kissed him, tasting himself in another man's mouth for the first time in...a very long time.

As they kissed, Gil twisted Nick around so that he was leaning on the counter and he then performed the same favour for Nick and, reassuringly for Gil, he came just as quickly.  Nick pulled Gil up this time and hugged him to him as they both tried to calm down their breathing.

Gil pulled back from Nick and looked at his watch.  "We've got a good hour; I can wash and dry your jeans for you before work."

"That would be good.  Don't want to be at a scene and have the ALS show Catherine I've had a recent encounter.  Although...I've got a change of pants in my locker at work.

"I don't want Catherine to know anything and if she saw you before and after you changed your pants she'd notice."  Gil zipped up and washed his hands at the sink.

"You got it.  Here."  And Nick unbelted and unbuttoned his already unzipped jeans and tried to pull them off over his shoes.  It wasn't going to work so he hopped and jumped to the table and sat on a chair and untied his shoes first.

Gil checked the salmon.  "The fish has been poached to death.  Cold cuts with the salad?"

"Yeah...good.  Where's your washer?  Through here?"   Gil nodded as he looked up from looking in the fridge and Nick walked through the door at the back of the kitchen area and called back to Gil.  "Hey, same model as mine.  I'll put them on to wash and dry."

"Okay.  Dinner will be five minutes."  Nick came back into the kitchen.  "A good look."  Gil admired the legs of his new lover.

"Nah, I've got weedy legs.  Doesn't matter how much I work on them at the gym they still don't bulk up.  As a kid I was a piece of knobbly string until I was about ten."

"My legs...are..."

"...bandy.  Were you sick as a kid?"

"No, just bandy.  There's some chicken and some ham.  Okay?"

Good, man, I'm even hungrier than I was before.  Sex gives me an appetite."  He slapped Gil's ass as he passed him on the way to the table.  He was very surprised to find that Gil's fairly substantial ass was solid.  "Hey, nice ass."  He said, appreciatively.

"Thanks.  I don't work on it...it's just there."  He smiled at Nick and Nick noticed his eyes were twinkling and he looked a whole lot better than he did just ten or fifteen minutes ago.

"I have a pert ass.  It's been appreciated."  Nick said quite proudly.

"I bet it has."  Gil put their plates on the table and sat down.  "Hold on I'll get some bread and butter to pad it out."

Twenty minutes later they were full of food and leaning back in their chairs.  "Man, I could really do with a sleep now."

"I know, Catherine has a lot to answer for.  She mustn't find out about this...us...is there an us, do you think?"

"Are we going to have another date?"

"I hope so."

Nick shrugged.  "Then there's an "˜us'.  And you're right about her...schtumm."

"Agreed." 

"I did think I would text Sara and tell her that we were hot and heavy, but..."

"...the last person in the entire world you should tell is Sara, I've been fending her off for years."

"Grissom, you should have come out.  That would have stopped her in her tracks."

"You mean like you did?"

"People know about me.  I don't hide it I just don't shout about it. "

"People know about me, too.  Catherine, of course, Jim.  The sheriff, even."

"Okay...but not Sara."

"No.  You've got me there."

 "Can we sit on the couch while I wait for my pants?  Here, I'll help with the dishes."

"Leave the dishes.  I have a dishwasher and I load it when I feel like it."

"Fair enough.  We can listen to the Vivaldi."

"Good idea.  Will you get a hankering for a glass of milk?"

"Oh, very funny."

"I thought so."  Gil smiled.  He was actually incredulous that they'd had sex...okay only a quick blow job apiece, but sex, nevertheless.  He'd had sex with Nick and he grinned.

"What are you grinning at?"  But Gil's grin made him grin too.

"Us.  Sex in the kitchen."

"I couldn't resist you."

"I know, I'm irresistible."  He laughed because he knew that that was preposterous.

But Nick didn't laugh.  "You could be right, man, I could become an addict."

"I hope so."  Gil put the disc in the player and then sat beside Nick.  "Do you want a coffee?"

"I'm okay with the water, thanks."

"Okay.  Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have some unresolved issues with me and work?"

"What?" Nick pulled back and stared at Gil.  "Issues?  What do you mean?"

"You were quite indignant about your evaluations."

"Oh, yeah.  But then you said my evals were among the best."

"Your evaluations put you in the top two."

"With Sara?"

"No."

"Okay.  Right.  Wow."  Nick didn't say  but he then assumed it was with Catherine.  He could live with that.

"Grissom?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I want to have issues with you.  The next thing you know you'll be talking about your feelings."

"I don't think so."  Grissom looked quite alarmed.

"Thank goodness.  The last thing I want is lengthy discussions about how I feel, or you."

"I absolutely agree."  He sounded absolutely sure of that and Nick laughed.

"No probs."  Nick slid closer to Gil and leaned on him and taking the hint Gil put his arm around his shoulders.

"What shall we do for our second date?"  Gil felt very brave.

"There's a college football game out at WLVU on Sunday.  You like games and statistics don't you?"

"I do...more NFL than college, but I do enjoy a game of football."

"It's a date then.  Work permitting.  I'm on back-up on Sunday."

"I can change the rota."

"You can?  Favouritism?  Go for it."

"It's not favouritism it's just swapping you around with someone who's willing.  Sara probably.   Ask her."

"Wow...sailing close the wind.  Ask Sara to cover me while I go out on a date with you.  Okay; I can do that."  He liked the idea.

"Nick?"

"What now?"

"Do you think you could call me Gil?"

"Yeah, okay.  Oh, no.  If I slip up at work and call you Gil...bad move, Grissom."

"There is that."

When Nick's jeans were ready  he had a quick shower to rinse off the smell of sex, as did Gil, but not together, Gil's shower was only built to hold one person.

They decided that when they got to Catherine's, Nick would get out of Gil's truck around the block from her house and walk to his truck on her driveway.  He wouldn't knock her door and hoped to get away without being seen.  It was funny because she hadn't been in contact with either man.

They decided that they had to play this close to their chests.  Give nothing away to her to suggest that she had, in point of fact, been very successful at matchmaking.  Act normal and make no mention of anything...even their hangovers.  They agreed and kissed one last time before leaving Gil's house and heading over to Catherine's house for Nick's truck.

Gil dropped Nick off as agreed and he walked the last few hundred yards as Gil drove off to get to work.  Catherine's truck was on the driveway parked next to Nick's.  He jumped in his truck, started it up and reversed off as quickly as he could and just as he changed to drive from reverse he saw Catherine in the corner of his eye come out of her front door and wave at him.  He ignored her, pretending he hadn't seen her, and drove off.

At assignments Nick was acting as if nothing had happened.  Or so he thought and Gil made no mention at all of the drinking session at Catherine's house.

So Catherine didn't mention it either, but she kept a very close eye on both men.  A very close eye and she didn't miss a trick.  She was, after all, an investigator at the top of her game.  And, more importantly, a woman...

***

Work was fairly busy and Gil sent Nick out on his own; Greg with Sara and Catherine with Warrick.

Later that night Catherine and Warrick came back to the lab with their evidence. As Catherine was walking up the main corridor she could see Gil in a lab studying something under a microscope.  She smiled, knowingly, to herself and then stopped dead.  And listened.

Gil Grissom was whistling.  Under his breath, maybe, but he was whistling and Catherine had never heard that before.  Ever.  She smirked.  She had them.  Oh yes...

Warrick was in the evidence lab and as Catherine walked back towards that lab she saw Greg.

"Hey, Greg?  The evidence lab.  Stat."  He wheeled around and followed her into the lab.  Catherine turned back and closed the door.

"I have them!  Get ready to lose five hundred bucks each."

"Whoa, not so fast.  What've you got?  Where's the evidence?"  Warrick wasn't going to part with a cent without evidence.

"Oh, come on Warrick.  You saw Nick at assignments.  More fidgety than a guy with itching powder in his pants.  But...at the same time he had that sweet little smile and rosy cheeks?  Hellooo?  You couldn't have missed it."

"I saw, I saw; but that's not proof and I...we..."  He looked at Greg, who nodded.  "...are not paying you our hard earned cash without it."

"Well, I've just seen...heard Grissom whistling."

Greg pursed his lips.  "I've never heard Grissom whistle."  Greg was almost convinced.

"Nor me and I've worked with him for fifteen or more years...and furthermore..."  She was going for broke.  "They were both rat-assed drunk at my place last night and neither of them has said a word about it.  Not one solitary word.  Now wouldn't you mention that fact to me?  Chew me out?  Whatever?  Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch."  Warrick shrugged and Greg kind of nodded.

"You see I've always said that when we, as CSI's, threaten to commit the perfect crime and not get caught, we're wrong.  Completely wrong.  Do you know why?"

The men shook their heads in unison.

"Because we'd do it too perfectly.  It would be suspicious because everything would be just so...and that's what they're trying to do.  They think that by not saying a word about anything I'll have no evidence, when that very silence, in and of itself, is extremely suspicious.  Pay up gentlemen; make me a happy woman."

"No, no, no, no.  I hear what you're saying, but what you're giving us is only circumstantial and whatever you say, no evidence at all wouldn't get a conviction in court.  I want proof.  Hard evidence."  Warrick wasn't just going to roll over and admit defeat.

"Yeah, me too."  Greg sided with Warrick since they were the pair that would have to pay up.  "I think, since it's Warrick and I who have to pay up, then one of us..."  He indicated himself and Warrick.  "...has to see some evidence for ourselves.  I would be willing to accept Warrick's word for it if he saw something."

"And I would accept Greggo's, here.  But not your word, Catherine, I'm sorry but you're the one who'll be making the money."

"Okay, okay, I accept, but I'm not worried; it won't be long before they slip up.  The pair of them are clueless.  That's why I had to set them up because they're made for one another and I couldn't go on any longer with them being oblivious."  She rolled her eyes for effect.

As much as Warrick and Greg didn't want to pay up, both men were resigned to it...the only thing that was lacking was some physical evidence.  It was obvious to both of them that something had happened between Gil and Nick.  Only Sara...and Hodges...seemed to be missing it...  The rest of the lab staff were having secret little chats about what was going on between the two men.  Unfortunately for Catherine she hadn't included them in her bet...or they weren't as gullible as Warrick and Greg...well...Greg!

In the end just three nights later it was Greg who saw the proof.  Grissom, Nick and Greg went out to a double murder, suicide, up in Henderson.  They used Nick's truck.

It was a pretty conclusive scene but they still had to follow their processes.  Elderly brother shot his two even older sisters and then himself.  Grissom sent Greg outside to check the perimeter.  He walked around the house and there was nothing; no signs of a break-in or intruder or anything and as he completed the circumference of the house he looked up into a lit window of the living room and saw...

...Grissom and Nick standing facing each...way too close for co-workers in Greg's humble opinion and then he saw it...  Grissom lifted his hand and ran his fingers down the side of Nick's face and Nick moved his head into the caress. 

Caress?

Greg huffed to himself at his use of the word but it was the right word to use.  Greg's eyes opened wide as he saw Grissom move towards Nick and his mouth was only about an inch away from Nick's mouth when he stopped him with his finger...to Gil's lips...  Nick spoke and Grissom nodded and moved away but Greg could see and almost feel the heat of Nick's blush from where he was standing....outside!

It was bad news: he had to kiss five C notes goodbye.  He left it about ten minutes and then went back inside to report his lack of findings.  Grissom sent him to process the scene where one of the sisters had died while he and Nick continued with the other two scenes.

An hour or so later they were on their way back to the lab.  Greg was riding shotgun and Grissom was in the back seat.  Greg could see Nick glancing in his rear view mirror every so often and it was not to see what was on the road behind the truck...no, he was looking at Gris.  Nick was like a cat who'd got the cream and had a little smile permanently plastered to his lips.  Greg rolled his eyes at himself in his reflected image in the car window and thought that Catherine was absolutely right!  They were both o-bliv-i-ous!

They hadn't spoken much on the journey back to the lab but as they approached Industrial Greg thought about something.

"Nick, will you stop at the ATM for me...I need some cash?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

At the ATM Greg withdrew five hundred crisp new bills and rued the day he'd taken on the bet with Catherine.

Back at the lab he found Catherine and Warrick but Sara was with them so he sent them both texts telling then to meet him after work, at Joey's.

He had to wait nearly an hour for them but they eventually came in and they all ordered breakfasts.

"Come on, Greg, spill the beans."  Catherine smiled a victorious smile; she knew she'd won.

He took out the five new notes and fanned them out on the table.  "Pay up, Warrick.  I saw."

He related the tale to them both and Warrick agreed it was proof and he handed over his money to Catherine.  She was smug but magnanimous in her win...she bought their breakfasts.

Epilogue

Nick was lying on his stomach with his head resting on his folded arms; he was hot and exhausted...and quite sore...but very happy.  Gil was lying on his side beside Nick equally hot and equally exhausted...but elated and extremely happy.  Nick thought the room probably smelled like a brothel.  Gil thought it smelled of Nick.  They spent a few minutes in silence both of them trying to get their gasping breath under control.

Gil put his hand on Nick's back and let his fingers trace his spine from his neck down to his crack. And then he rested it on an ass cheek.

"Do you know I think we've done a great job keeping our relationship secret, don't you?"

"Yeah.  Relationship?"   He looked at Gil through his eyelashes.

"At the risk of talking feelings I think it is, don't you?"

"Yeah.  I guess."  Grissom could talk up a storm at any time...drunk, hung-over, after sex.  He could be relied upon to have a lengthy convoluted conversation...or lecture...at any time of the day or night.

"I think Catherine is clueless, you know.  She's never said a word about the night she got us drunk and I think she is embarrassed about it in retrospect."

"Mmmm...I don't think Catherine does embarrassed and I'm not so sure; there might be more to it...she still set us up with the Jell-O shots, remember hers were not alcoholic."

"True."  Gil was thinking some more, Nick could tell.

"Please can I go to sleep now?"

"Of course you can...you do know that I love you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do.  Same here."

"I suppose, really, we should be grateful to Catherine."

"Yeah."  Nick smiled at Grissom.  "Yeah, we should."  Gil chuckled.  "What's so funny?"

"I still think..."  And Gil slapped Nick's ass cheek where his hand rested...for two reasons; because he could, and to accentuate the point he was going to make, and he grinned before speaking.  "...I still think, Nick, that if Catherine knew something she couldn't have resisted saying something; no...she's oblivious..."

The End

A/N 2: Thank you so much for reading and commenting on this little fic of extreme AU fluffiness!!

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