Title: CSI100Fics Prompt Challenge – Nos. 6 - 10
Author: Dee
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 498, 517, 529, 509 and 892 respectively
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes
Warnings: Fluff and AU.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: Unbeta-ed. So the mistakes are all mine! The icon is high_striker’s.
A/N: No-one accused me of cheating so I’ve done it again…they follow each other to make a whole story!

Hours

Gil had smiled at him as the others left the diner leaving the two men alone. It was rare that they all met up now that the team had been split; but they’d all been on the same case overnight.

“It’s been a long time since I had you to myself outside work, Nick.”

Nick was confused by the statement, ‘had you to myself’. “Sorry Gris, what d’you mean?”

“Nick, I know; I saw you at, ‘La Cage’ the other night.”

‘La Cage’ was an up-market club for gay men, where the clientele were usually extremely discreet and membership was by invitation only; Nick had never seen Gil at the club, but it had a lot of rooms and a lot of shadows. So Gil was gay.

“And…”

“You left alone, although you enjoyed the company of several men during the evening.”

“I repeat, ‘and’?”

“I always thought you might be gay, but never acted on it, obviously…me being your supervisor. But now, Catherine’s your boss and we’re not conflicted.”

“So…what are you suggesting here Gris, that we…what?”

“Well, nothing specific, but since we ‘share’ a common bond, maybe we should explore it…if you don’t want to, then that’s okay, but you’d never know what you’re missing.”

“Sure of yourself aren’t you?”

“I've had a lot of practice Nick, and I think you have too, you’re not some sweet little cherry waiting to be picked.”

“No. I’m not, anymore than I’m a pushover.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be; you were in control at the club; you did what you wanted, with whom you wanted and then left when you wanted. Not the traits of a nervous young man and since you are a member of La Cage, you must have been on the scene for some time.”

“You must work in Forensics; you’re good at evidence collection and deduction.” Nick’s Texan drawl was heavy with sarcasm.

“I’m not going to push this Nick. If you don’t want to, that’s fair enough, I’m not that desperate.” Gris’ voice and manner had cooled down quite considerably in the space of seconds.

“S’funny, I always thought YOU might be gay.”

“We were both right then. Look I have errands to do; I’ll see you around...at work.”

“Yeah.”

Gil slid out of the booth and nodded at Nick; there was no longer any trace of a smile on his face and he didn’t look back.

Hours later Nick was trying to sleep, but was replaying the scene over and over again. When he’d tossed around in the bed for about the hundredth time, he got up. He retrieved a juice from his cool box and pointed his remote at the TV.

There was an old game on and he looked at the screen but the actual game passed him by; he was still most concerned by the two questions that had kept him awake in the first place.

‘Why had he blown Gris away?’

And.

‘Should he contact Gris and backtrack?’

The End

Days

In the days that followed Nick and Gil’s brief exchange in the diner, Gil didn’t see Nick at all and Nick saw Gil once and quickly dodged into the evidence locker to (hopefully) avoid any contact.

Gil had been moody since the breakfast, more introverted and stony faced. Most people in the lab and the PD took it as a sign to keep their distance. Gil could be acid tongued when he was in one of these moods and they could last for weeks, so he was just left to his own devices. No one would ask why he was like it, maybe Catherine would, but nowadays they rarely crossed paths.

Nick had been quiet since the breakfast; not that he was given to raucous behaviour of any kind, but he was noticeably downcast, as Catherine observed.

“You seem downcast Nicky, what gives?”

“Not much; a personal problem, is all.”

“Oh, can I help?”

“Oh no, it’s just a family thing, you know? It’ll be sorted soon.” He lied.

“Okay then, but if you need anything let me know, don’t suffer in silence.”

“I won’t, I’m okay, really.” Nick made note to himself to be a little livelier than he had been otherwise Catherine’s mother hen would be clucking around him. He chuckled to himself at his thought of Catherine as a hen.

“You seem better already.”

“Oh yeah, honest, I’m okay.”

“Okay, see you later. I forgot, you’re in court tomorrow aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I need to review everything later if that’s okay? Make sure it’s all clear in my head.”

“No problem; see you later.”

“Yeah, later.”

Of course, what Nick had completely forgotten until he’d pulled his notes out, was that the murder case was a two hander with…Gris.

So the next day he found himself sitting next to Gris in the courtroom. Nick slid into the seat beside Gris; he thought it would be childish to completely avoid him.

“Hey.” The judge hadn’t arrived, so the room was buzzing with chatter.

“Nick. Have you prepared?”

“No.”

“Oh. No? That’s not very professional is it?” Gil was bristling with annoyance.

“Of course I've prepared, I always do and you know it. Lighten up.” Nick felt very brave addressing his former boss (he was still a supervisor) in such a cheeky manner, but he smiled directly at Gil as he spoke.

Gil's mouth turned up a little at the corners as he realised he’d been caught. “Sorry, I know you do. How are you?”

“I’m good, you?”

“Yes. No. Like a bear with a sore head I think Catherine would describe me, in her inimitable way.”

“Why’s that?” Nick was still smiling.

“You know very well.” Gil wasn’t smiling.

“I do? I do; never reckoned you’d be a sore loser.”

“I am; an only child you see, used to my own way.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we should have breakfast again y’know, go over the evidence again.”

“Maybe we should.”

“I’m throwing you a bone man, at least act pleased.”

“You want me to salivate and wag my tail?”

“That would be a start.”

The End

Weeks

If Gil had expected Nick to roll over like the good dog in the analogy Nick himself had used, he was mistaken.

They had various meals in diners at odd times because of their overlapping shifts, and while Nick was a much happier guy than he’d been previously he was still holding Gil at arm’s length.

The ridiculous thing about it was that Gil was lapping it up like a thirsty dog; he was annoyed with himself because he was used to being in control in circumstances like these. He was by no means a dominant man who required submissive behaviour, but he had a naturally dominant personality. He had half expected Nick to behave like a submissive, and it came as a shock to him when he realised, in the past weeks when they’d eaten together, that he had met his match; Nick Stokes was as dominant as he was and each of them was trying to establish their own hierarchy; I’m the one in charge and you are my plaything.

“Are you playing with me, Nick?” Gil asked, about three weeks after their courtroom meeting.

“Why do you ask that?”

“You are and you know it, your answer proves it; you should have asked ‘what to you mean’?”

“Telling me what I should be thinking and saying, now?” Nick laughed.

“You know; we’ve been stalking around each other trying to find a chink in each other’s armour since we first started this ‘eating out’ business.”

“Then you’re as guilty as I am?”

It was Gil’s turn to laugh. “Yes; but you’ve won, because I've tired first…of the play, I want to move forward with this Nick, I want to know where it’s going.”

“I think this is the conversation I've been waiting all these weeks for…a look at the real you. We’ve just been sizing each other up, and now you’ve realised what I’m like. If we ‘move forward’ like you say you want, then it’s as equals, nothing less.”

“I’ve come to realise that and I’m comfortable with the prospect, and I might add Nick, that it’s the first time in a long time that a man has asked that of me…to be his equal. The prospect is exciting; I want nothing more…and nothing less.”

“What about we go to La Cage...together, as a couple; that should cause a few raised eyebrows in their closeted world.”

“Indeed it would. From the looks you were getting when I saw you there, you were the object of many men’s desires and now you’ll be mine.”

“Ah…’mine’; now what did I say about ‘equals’?”

“But, equally, I will be yours…”

“…well just you remember that, Grissom. We’re not at work now.”

“No, thank God, because my erection would be very noticeable and all the other men would be jealous and the women would be swooning in the corridors at the thought of the size…”

Nick was laughing with Gil. “Swooning? Size? I need to check this out.”

“Yes, you do…when I can decently leave this place and get you alone.”

“Here’s the newspaper, hang it on the peg and make your getaway.”

“Never heard it called a ‘peg’ before.”

The End

Months

The weeks turned to months and both men were calmer and happier than they’d been for a long time. Neither man had said the ‘love’ word, but every time they made love it was on the tip of both of their tongues to say it; every time they had a special moment it was still there…on the tip of their tongues…where it remained.

They pretended to themselves that they didn’t know why it was so hard to mutter three simple words, but they were deceiving themselves; they both knew why and they held back for the same reason.

Fear.

Gil had known he loved Nick probably on their first official date at La Cage. Nick was beautiful, intelligent and attentive. He never looked at another man all evening. They laughed, they talked; Nick even managed to get Gil to have a dance or three. Gil was relaxed and another feeling that he couldn’t actually name, but realised some days later that it was ‘happiness’; he was happy. A carefree feeling he’d not experienced for such a long time he’d shed a few tears (in the shower, of course) to think that Nick had finally cracked his shell.

But then a fear had gripped his heart; fear that Nick was only humouring him and that at any time soon, he would tire of the game and move on.

Nick had known he loved Gil some time around their third date, when he’d suddenly realised that he was as comfortable with another human being as he’d ever been. They laughed at the same things; they teased each other about the things that they deserved to be teased about. Gil's great intelligence was so natural and his manner so endearing that Nick would smile as he was being lectured; Gil, oblivious that he was lecturing and Nick hanging onto his every word.

But when Nick realised his love for Gil, he was saddened at his own misfortune; he was a lightweight and the esteemed Dr Grissom needed someone in his own intellectual league to make him happy.

So a fear had gripped his heart; fear that Gil was only humouring him and that at any time soon, he would tire of the game and move on.

And yet…neither man even considered, for a moment, that they should end their relationship; it might be heading for the rocks but neither man would be the man who’d put an end to it; to forestall the wreckage they both expected.

Of course…neither man even considered, for a moment, to speak about their fears. No, that would be too tempting for ‘Fate’.

So they carried on month after month; enjoying their life and enjoying each other and mostly, ‘fear’, was tucked away and ignored.

But then a man consumed with hatred, crossed Nick’s path. When Walter Gordon had asked Gil, ‘What does he mean to you?’ Gil had remained outwardly composed but inside his head, he was screaming, ‘I love him; he is my life’.

Over the years, of course, they both recovered from the trauma.

The End

Years

That first day in the hospital Nick was lying in his bed with his Mother and Father at one side and Catherine and Warrick on the other side.

Nick could barely speak, his voice was screamed and cried out; his bites were itching but he had no energy to scratch them; his chest hurt where his ribs had been injured by his flying act (without a safety net) and then exacerbated by the de-fib paddles when his heart had stopped on the way to the hospital.

He head was pounding and his eye hurt, yet another injury from being recovered from his grave.

But he felt strangely euphoric, the drugs he supposed. So, he’d been buried alive, interred without a death certificate, and it had been the most awful thing he’d ever experienced, but he’d survived, he was here wasn’t he? But if he was here, then where was Gil?

As if by magic Gil barged through the door of his room. Gil; battered and bruised, dirty and smelling, he pushed past Catherine and Warrick without apology and tugged Nick into his arms, holding onto him with all his strength.

The canula in the back of Nick’s hand was ripped out in the movement and blood spurted out of the exposed blood vessel. Neither man noticed.

Warrick could hear Gil speaking, murmuring words, but it was if it was in a strange language as if he couldn’t quite grasp their meaning.

Catherine was trying to draw their attention to the blood gushing from Nick’s hand but it Mother who brought the proceedings to a halt.

“Put him down; leave my son alone.”

Catherine winced at the sheer decibels of her delivery, but Gil did pull away only to be held by Nick who wasn’t about to let go. But then Gil saw the blood and immediately looked for something to stop the bleeding. He grabbed a wodge of tissues from a box on the bedside cabinet and held them in place.

Gil had been murmuring, ‘I love you Nicky, you are my life, I’ll never let you go’ over and over like a religious mantra.

Mother said. “Baby, you cannot possible want this man; he’s too old and he’s your boss.”

Nick barely managed an almost petulant whisper. “But I love him Momma and I do want him.”

“Oh baby, don‘t you always get what you want.”

Nick smiled as sweet a smile as he could manage, given his circumstances, at his Momma, because he knew darn well he had her wrapped around his little finger, him being her baby an’ all! His Father, the Judge, knew better than to contradict his wife.

Catherine had summoned a nurse to repair Nick’s hand and re-insert the canula. Everyone had to move back but Nick held onto Gil and made the nurse work around him.

Though, in the end, Nick had to beg Warrick to forcibly take Gil home he was so desperately in need of sleep and a clean up; and as he reluctantly clambered aboard Warrick’s truck he was asleep in less than five seconds, even before he’d fastened his seatbelt.

The parents wanted to take Nick back to Texas, to the ranch to recuperate, but Nick was adamant he wanted to stay in Vegas. His mother said there was no one to look after him but Gil assured her, he would do whatever ‘looking after’ there was to be done.

Nick had whispered to Gil that he wanted to stay in Vegas, and Gil had assumed it was because Nick wanted to be with him and was almost despondent when Nick croakily explained that it was because he was used to being on his own and in Texas he would be surrounded by family, and then more family and then some…he needed space and quiet to recover.

When Nick had seen Gil's crestfallen face at his explanation he’d added, ‘and Gil wouldn’t be in Texas to look after me’. And just like his Momma, Gil was suckered in.

Nick made a remarkable recovery.

Gil attributed it to Nick’s strong constitution and his ‘just get on with it’ mentality. He saw the ‘company’ psychiatrist, who gave him the all clear to return to work and Nick went back to work and got on with the job.

Okay, he had a few hairy moments…a bug on his arm at the first scene he’d been to after returning to work…but he coped. He had to walk down some steps to go to an underground scene…that had been difficult until he saw some evidence and got carried away working... and he coped.

But there had been the temper…he’d always kept the nasty little Stokes’ trait under control…mostly, but he did hit a guy at a scene, and had to go trotting off to the therapist; but he was good…and he rescued Cassie; he would always look on that as his finest moment. It was, maybe, the one thing he was grateful to Walter Gordon for…to never give up hope.

“Hey babe, do you know what day it is today?”

“Errr...Thursday?”

“Yep it is, but not what I was looking for; no, today is the fifth anniversary of me being abducted by Walter Gordon.”

“Jeez, Nicky…God, it seems like yesterday; you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Tell me again, why weren’t you in the ambulance with me………”

The End