Title: Thanksgiving Memories
Author: EbIv
Author's e-mail: EbonyIvory013@aol.com
Disclaimer: I don't own them and I'm not seeking to make any sort of profit from this venture. This is done strictly for pleasure. No financial gain is intended from this work of fiction.
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Warrick Brown
Author's notes: Okay, so I know it's well after Thanksgiving. This was actually started a couple of years ago when I thought that my friend and I were the only folks out there who believed in the pairing of Warrick and Grissom. I dusted it off after finding the list but alas, the muse didn't cooperate and so it didn't get done in time for the holiday. But it's here now, so enjoy, hopefully!
Summary: Warrick and Gris have a lot to be thankful for at Thanksgiving.

***

"Hosting a Thanksgiving potluck was a great idea, Griss," Warrick Brown complimented his friend as he carried a serving bowl into the kitchen. "Especially that bread pudding you made. That was a total surprise."

"Thanks." A small smile tugged at Gil Grissom's lips at the praise. Turning to put the platter he'd been rinsing into the dishwater, he added, "You know, Warrick, you really don't have to help me with the clean up."

"You kidding me? After a feed like that I need the exercise. Besides, the least I can do is help put your place back in order. A couple cans of cranberry sauce and a frozen pumpkin pie wasn't much of a contribution." Then the younger man grinned. "But trust me when I tell you it was better for everyone that way. A chef I'm not."

The other man chuckled, knowing his friend wasn't exaggerating. He'd tasted Warrick's attempt at cooking once, and he hoped never to have to repeat the experience.

"What you brought was fine. It was stuff I hadn't thought about. I wasn't sure this idea would work on such short notice, but it seemed like everyone had a good time." He had only announced it at the start of their last shift. Given that they hadn't gotten off until almost 8 a.m. the previous day, it hadn't given anyone much time to prepare. He'd just been glad that, like him, most of the crew hadn't made other plans for Thanksgiving Day.

"Good time? I think we all had a fantastic time!" the younger man enthused, his words slurring just a bit at the end.

"Some of us more than others. How much did you have to drink, Warrick?" Being a holiday, Grissom wasn't concerned about work, but he didn't think the CSI was sober enough to drive. And the others had since left.

"A few," Brown admitted. "Don't sweat it, though. I'll be okay to drive home."

"Are you sure? Do you have plans for tomorrow?" Gil asked, hoping he sounded casual. "You could always sleep it off here. I've got a guest room."

"Really, Gris, I'm fine." Adrenaline now coursed through Warrick's system, clearing some of the haze. Shit! I should've knocked off after that second beer, but being around him is so damned hard sometimes. Especially at times like this.

The other man frowned. In the years he'd known Warrick, drinking to excess had never been one of his problems. Gil could count on two, maybe three fingers, the number of times he'd seen Warrick drunk, and this was one of them.

Noting the look of concern, Brown said, "C'mon, man, it's a long weekend! I don't often get the chance to kick back like this." It wasn't often he and his boss got the same time off, but this year they had arranged it so Nick, Catherine and Sara would work Thanksgiving, and he and Gris would cover Christmas, along with a sub from the day shift.

"Hey, I'm not judging." Grissom held up a hand. "In case you weren't counting, I had a few of my own. The difference is that I don't have to drive home. You're a responsible man, Warrick. Think about it. If you really want to go home, I'll call a cab."

"Nah, you're right, Gris." Knowing his fate was now sealed, Warrick said, "Long as you don't mind, I'll sack out here."

"It's fine, or I wouldn't have offered." Reaching into the fridge, the older man pulled out two beers. Grinning widely, he invited, "Now we have that settled, join me for one more?"

"Sure." Trying to ignore the jolt to his gut, the younger man grinned back.

~@~@~@~@~@~

They finished clearing the kitchen, making light conversation as they went along. Finally, Grissom looked around and nodded in satisfaction.

"C'mon, let's go see what's on television." Gil nodded toward the living room, where he had a large screen television.

As the two men settled on Grissom's sofa, Warrick found himself hiding another grin, remembering his boss's reasoning for wanting the extravagant item. The CSI might have bought into the "better to watch nature documentaries" excuse, except that Warrick had seen the extensive collection of Disney DVD's. They were stored behind such innocent titles as National Geographic in Africa.

Though it seemed a bit out of character for the older man, Warrick was pleased to know that Gil's inner child survived behind his carefully maintained loner façade. And it was definitely a façade, he knew, thought not easily breached by many.

Occasionally Warrick had been given access to Gil's private persona, when the older man chose to share details of his past, or even his present, trusting that his confidences would not be betrayed. That meant a lot to Warrick.

Thinking about the hidden stash, Warrick wondered what other childhood memories might lie hidden around the condo, unrecognizable by most. Grissom didn't seem to be an overly sentimental man, but appearances were often deceiving.

Making himself comfortable by settling into the corner of the sofa, Warrick turned his attention to the television screen. Opera. Not his usual choice of music, but it wasn't too bad.

With the music as background, Warrick couldn't help thinking how much he had enjoyed the day. The night shift was a pretty tight group so it wasn't that unusual to socialize together outside of work. But it hadn't ended there, at least for him.

Warrick knew he had been playing with fire, offering to stay and help Grissom with clean-up. Yet it hadn't seemed fair to leave the man on his own with it. And if he was being brutally honest, the CSI knew he would grasp at any chance to spend time with Gil Grissom alone.

Cleaning up, sharing the beers together, and now settling in to watch some television . . . it all felt very domestic. And what's more, he liked it.

Man, you got it bad, he chastised himself.

Warrick Brown had long ago admitted he harbored strong feelings for his supervisor. For years, just simply being friends had been enough. But lately, Warrick wanted more.

He recognized that would be disastrous. For one thing, Griss was his boss. For another . . . well, he couldn't even be sure Grissom was into men. Warrick's instincts told him Gil was flexible, but all the evidence pointed to him being straight. And having had experience with straight men who changed their minds, Warrick was not willing to make that mistake again. Not with a man he felt so strongly about.

So for now, he would content himself with nights like this, spent in quiet camaraderie. It was better than nothing at all, and more than he had ever expected.

~@~@~@~@~@~

Gil heard the soft sigh from his companion and turned to study the younger man. The melancholy expression on Warrick's face made him curious. Much as he wanted to know what was on his friend's mind, he hesitated to intrude.

Brown was a private man, as Grissom had well learned over the years they had known each other. But in spite of that, he gave Grissom a lot of latitude, usually answering any questions as honestly as possible.

In fact, one of Gil's strongest memories was the day Warrick had been hired. The younger man's smile had brightened the room upon hearing the news. He was still grinning as he walked to the door of the office. Just as he was about to open it, he hesitated and turned back, his expression serious.

"Is there something else?" Grissom had asked.

"Yeah." For the first time the younger man looked slightly uncomfortable and uncertain. "Look, you should know something about me. I'm bi-sexual. I'm not an in-your-face kind of guy but I'm also not about to live in the closet either."

The announcement had taken Grissom by surprise. He would not have pegged Warrick Brown as gay or bi, not that he routinely spent time considering the sexual preferences of his staff. He knew he had to carefully choose his response.

"While I appreciate your honesty, I'm not in the habit of interfering with my team's off-duty pursuits," he'd finally answered. "What you do with your personal life is your business, Warrick. Just so long as it stays personal. And for the record, I give the same advice to any other employee. You'll start tomorrow evening, and I look forward to working with you."

That conversation had fueled many dreams since then. Especially as Gil had gotten to know the younger man better. Shared breaks led to in-depth conversations about anything from politics to religion to science. Though they often had opposing viewpoints they found they could agree to disagree without steamrolling each other.

As the months had passed, Grissom found himself wanting to spend more and more time with this intriguing man. To his surprise it seemed to be mutual, as Warrick sought him out and not just in a supervisory role.

For years, Gil had contented himself with mentoring the younger man. In Warrick, he could easily see potential for a future supervisory position and he had done everything in his power to encourage growth of that potential.

And then there had been the Holly Gribbs fiasco. Even now, more than two years past, Grissom knew Warrick still lived in his own personal hell, struggling to overcome the stigma of being responsible for the rookie's death.

Gil knew the saying was most often true that what didn't kill you, made you stronger. That had certainly been the case with Warrick. The younger CSI had re-defined his priorities, focusing on regaining the trust and respect of his shiftmates. In addition, he sought treatment for his gambling addiction.

Grissom couldn't say if the black mark on Warrick's record would ever be forgotten by those who had authority over promotional positions. But he vowed that if he was still around when such an opportunity arose, he'd do his damndest to make sure Warrick got consideration.

~@~@~@~@~@~

Warrick stole a look at his companion, surprised at the fierce look on the older man's face. There was a tension in the room that hadn't been present earlier.

Deciding he needed to try to break the tension, the CSI took a chance. "Hey, Griss?"

The other man didn't acknowledge the call, didn't even blink until Warrick called him again.

"I'm sorry, Warrick. Did you say something?"

"I was just wondering. What was your best and worst Thanksgiving?" the younger man asked.

Grissom arched his eyebrows, wondering where the question had come from.

"This was the best Thanksgiving I've had in a long time," Warrick said by way of explanation. "It got me thinking, that's all."

Grissom studied his companion for a moment. Shrugging mentally, he plunged in. "Well, my worst Thanksgiving ever was the time in college that I invited someone home to meet the family, only to discover they didn't see our relationship the same as I did."

"Ouch." Warrick grimaced. "That had to suck." He noticed Gil's careful use of gender-neutral language and had to calm his suddenly racing heart. Don't get your hopes up, man. You know how private he is!

"As for my best one?" Grissom wished he could say this current evening. Instead, he said, "That would have to be the last year my grandfather was alive. I was in an accelerated high school program and had just gotten my college acceptance letter the day before. He told me how proud he was."

"I hear that." The younger man nodded. "My best was when I was ten. That was the year Grams took me back East to meet some of her family. I actually got to see real snow. It was only flurries, but it was still magic, y'know?"

Gil smiled, picturing the other man as a child chasing after snowflakes.

"My worst. Whew. I brought this up, right?" Rubbing a hand over his face, Warrick quietly said, "That was the year my mom died, the week before the holiday."

"How old were you?" Grissom ached for his friend. At least he'd had one parent raising him. From what little Warrick had told him in the past, his father had never been part of his life.

"Seven."

The flat tone couldn't hide the younger man's pain, but his eyes were even more telling. They held an old, deep pain that had never completely healed.

Grissom wanted desperately to say something, but "I'm sorry" wouldn't cut it. It was a platitude that could not begin to measure up to the level of trust he had just been granted.

"Grams always tried to tell me that she was watching over me, that she wasn't really gone." Warrick shook his head. "But even as a kid I knew that was just a line of b.s. that adults feed you when they don't want you to know how bad it is."

Gil nodded, recalling how his mother had tried to excuse his father's emotional distance. He hadn't bought her explanation either.

"It's true, we tend to underestimate how much children can comprehend." Wanting to shift the mood, Gil suggested, "How about another beer?"

"Hmmm?" It took a moment for Warrick to process the question, then he nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks."

Walking past the younger man, Griss lightly squeezed Warrick's shoulder, unsurprised to find it tight with tension.

Warrick's heart warmed at the touch. He and Griss had always been pretty easy with each other, but he knew it wasn't really in the older man's nature to reach out spontaneously. And he was also grateful to have the time to re-group.

Memories of his mother were still painful. Still, it had hurt less than he'd expected to tell Gil.

Once the other man entered the kitchen, Warrick turned his attention back to the television. With a start, he realized the opera program had ended. Looking around, he spied the remote and grabbed it, flicking through channels for something of interest.

Finally seeing a program he recognized and like, Warrick set the remote down and settled back to watch.

A moment later, Gil walked back into the room. Holding out a beer, he said, "I had no idea you watched this, too."

"Yeah, it's one of the few shows I tape while we're on the job. I have to watch it as soon as I get home." Warrick patted the couch next to him, indicating Grissom should join him.

Grissom sat next to his friend, close but not too close. He enjoyed this show. It was one of the few on television that occasionally kept him guessing the outcome.

Pointing to one of the stars, Gil said, "I almost didn't recognize him when I first saw the show. I liked him better in that Western he did a few years back."

"Never saw it," Warrick answered.

"You wouldn't know it was him. He had long hair and a constant five-o'clock shadow," Grissom answered.

The younger man found it surprising that Gil Grissom was noticing a hot actor. And a hot male actor, at that. But he didn't question it. The information gave him a tiny flare of hope and he'd rather try to spark it to life than have it extinguished immediately with too much information.

They watched the show, commenting occasionally on procedures. Grissom found himself nodding off during the commercials, and he struggled to stay awake until he realized Warrick was having the same problem.

Nudging the younger man gently, he said, "Come on, Warrick. I think it's time we both hit the sack."

As tired and mellow as the beer had left him, the CSI still had enough presence of mind not to blurt out what he'd been thinking: Is that an offer? He knew he couldn't be that lucky. Damn.

"Yeah, sounds good." Yawning widely, Warrick stood up and stretched. "Where am I sleeping?"

Did he do that on purpose? Grissom wondered, watching in fascination. Realizing the other man was waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and said, "The guest room is this way."

Feeling the buzz from the alcohol, Warrick followed Grissom down the short hallway, pausing as the man opened a door next to the bathroom. He fought the strong urge to open the door opposite, knowing it led to Gil's room. God, don't go there, Rick! he chided himself. With a guilty start, he snapped his attention back to Griss, realizing the other man was talking to him.

"-you'll find extra blankets in the closet if you need them," the older man was saying. "Towels are in the cupboard in the bathroom, and I think there should be an extra toothbrush. Just take whatever you need."

"Thanks again, Griss." Warrick took a step inside the room, then paused. "I really appreciate this. I had a good time."

The words warmed Gil's heart in a way he had thought impossible. Allowing a small smile to slip out, he said, "Me too, Warrick. Sleep well."

Grissom watched as the younger man stepped inside the room and shut the door before he entered his own bedroom. The more daring part of him wished he had an excuse to ask Warrick to share with him, but long years of playing it safe had become habit.

Closing the door behind him, Gil walked into the master suite bathroom and began his preparations for bed.

Grissom couldn't say for sure what woke him. Deciding it had to be his uncomfortably full bladder, he rolled out of bed and headed for his bathroom. Quickly taking care of business, Gil washed his hands and walked back into the bedroom.

A noise from elsewhere in the house caught his attention and he frowned. Then he remembered. Warrick. He had a houseguest.

Hurrying to the door, he opened it and listened carefully. There. It sounded like the younger man was in pain.

Taking the few steps across the hall, Grissom realized his friend had left the door partially ajar. Pushing it a little further, he distinctly heard Warrick cry out.

The anguished sound cut Grissom to the core and he found himself through the door and standing at the younger man's bedside before conscious thought kicked in. As he studied Warrick's face, he inhaled sharply.

The moonlight shining through the open blinds highlighted tear tracks.

Gil reached out, intending to wake Warrick, but the dreamer's next words froze him.

"God, no! Not Griss" Brown moaned, shifting position as if drawing back from something.

The older man's heart thudded in his chest. He considered Warrick a friend, had done so almost from the start. He thought Warrick felt the same. But to dream of him? Hope flared, even as he ruthlessly pushed it aside.

Unable to listen further, Grissom reached out and grasped Warrick's shoulder, shaking him. The other man's eyes opened, and he looked around in confusion.

"Rick, you awake?"

Grissom's tone, added to his own racing pulse, told Warrick he'd had a dream. More likely a nightmare. And then it came rushing back in a flash. He swallowed hard, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

"Oh god" he whispered.

"That was some nightmare." Keeping his voice casual, Gil sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep distance between him and his guest.

"Yeah, you could say that," Warrick answered ruefully. Avoiding his friend's gaze, he asked, "Did I wake you up? Sorry about that."

"I was already up," the other man explained. "It's no big deal."

Expelling a deep breath, Brown shook his head, at a loss for words. The dream image wouldn't let him go, especially with Grissom sitting on the bed, a visual reminder.

"Warrick?" Grissom wanted to reach out, but his own fears held him immobile. He settled for words, though they weren't any easier to get out. "Do you- I mean, if you need to talk"

The younger man took several deep breaths, trying to figure how much he could safely divulge. Though the rational part of his brain wondered why he felt it necessary to unburden to this man, he ignored it.

"That's why I don't drink much anymore," he finally said, voice rough. "I get this recurring dream of Hol" He had to pause and clear his throat. "I dream about Holly's death. That I'm there, watching . . . and there's not a damned thing I can do to stop it." Overwhelmed by the emotions the dream stirred up, Warrick raked a hand through his hair.

"Except it's not always Holly, is it?" Once again, Gil's heart thundered. He couldn't say for sure why he was pressing the issue. He knew the risk might not pay off the way he wanted.

Warrick looked at him briefly, green eyes widening in surprise. The room was too dark for him to see Grissom's expression. The rational part of his mind insisted that admitting anything further was too great a risk and he opened his mouth, about to deny the question. Instead he found himself saying, "No, not always. Sometimes it's"

That was when he finally managed to halt his unruly heart's attempt at confession.

But it apparently gave Grissom more than enough information.

"It happens to me, too," the other man quietly admitted. "Sometimes a case that I thought I'd put in the past just comes back out of nowhere. I'll see it happening and be unable to stop it, only the victim will be different."

"Yeah. A lot of times it's still about Holly," Warrick admitted. Directing his gaze downward, he hesitantly continued. "But other times, it's someone I know . . . someone I care about. When the dream first started, it was always my mother. Then it shifted to other people. Cases we worked. Holly. Lately . . . lately, it's been . . . you."

"Me?" Gil hoped his voice didn't sound as startled as he felt.

Afraid he'd presumed interest where there was none, the younger man tried to cover his tracks. "You've been a good friend, Griss. Always there when I need you, y'know?"

Grissom had the feeling he was missing something important. Examine the evidence, Gil. Warrick's willingness to stay this evening, helping with the clean-up, the easy companionship they shared. That he shared with few others. It could just be simple friendship.

Except for the covert glances he caught, when Warrick thought he wasn't looking. Grissom also recalled how Warrick had reacted to his encounters with Lady Heather. At the time he had been too preoccupied to dwell on it, but Warrick had definitely shown signs of jealousy.

All of which could be explained away fairly easily, if not for the dream the younger man had just admitted to.

"Warrick" Feeling his pulse racing, Gil swallowed hard and took a few calming breaths. "Ah, hell!"

Leaning forward, Grissom brushed his lips against his companion's, his mind automatically cataloging the sensation. One thing he knew for certain reality far surpassed any fantasy he had ever entertained about the moment.

Gil drew back, but didn't get far before a strong hand reached out, cupping his head and pulling him close again.

Their second kiss was far more intense as Warrick opened his mouth to deepen the contact, his tongue lightly stroking over Gil's lips.

One of them moaned, and Grissom had the feeling it had been him. He opened his mouth, meeting Warrick's probing tongue with his own. After several long minutes of exploration, Warrick backed off, leaving Gil breathless and confused.

"Griss" The younger man shook his head in frustration. "Gil, are you sure about this? 'Cause if we go much further"

"Shhhh." Grissom covered the tempting lips with his fingers. "I'm no innocent, Warrick. I've done this before. And right now, I'm looking forward to doing it again. With you, if you want me."

Warrick's cock jumped, hearing the words, and he opened his lips, sucking in the tips of Gil's fingers. He wished he could see the other man's expression as his tongue played with the digits, but he heard the sharp intake of breath. A moment later the fingers were withdrawn and he was once again pulled into a deep kiss.

Still having a hard time believing he had permission Warrick edged closer. Slipping one hand around Gil's waist, he reached up with the other to cup his soon-to-be-lover's head. He had to fight not to pull Grissom too closely to him, not wanting to startle the other man by being too aggressive.

Sensing the younger man's hesitation, Gil decided to take control of the situation. Easing Warrick back down onto the bed, Grissom quickly stripped out of his robe and pajama bottoms.

He watched Warrick slide out of his boxers, letting him get partway before reaching down himself and pulling them off the rest of the way. Grissom wished he had thought to turn on a light. He had seen Warrick as a co-worker; now he wanted to see the other man as a lover.

Making sure the sheet and blankets were out of the way, Gil crawled into the bed and found himself immediately drawn into a strong embrace. His heart thundered with excitement, enjoying the feel of Warrick's male strength.

They shared another kiss, and Grissom rolled them so he straddled Warrick. The younger man broke the kiss with a moan, thrusting upwards in an effort for more contact.

Stretching out over his lover, Gil felt Warrick's arms close around him again, and the long legs parted, allowing him to settle in between. They were both too hot to last long, and this would be the best position to accomplish their shared goal.

"You feel so good like this," Warrick whispered, wrapping his legs around Gil's, and thrusting upwards once more. He loved how Gil's skin felt against his. It was turning him on even more, if possible. Closing his eyes, he continued thrusting, feeling Grissom move in counterpoint.

"Oh, god" Gil sucked in a lungful of air. This was incredible. What he and Warrick were doing was so basic and yet it was creating the most intense pleasure he could remember in far too long.

Cupping Grissom's head, Warrick kissed him deeply, sucking the other man's tongue into his mouth. One of them moaned, though Warrick couldn't say for sure which. It might even have been both.

Gil increased his thrusts, then just as suddenly froze, breaking the kiss as his head snapped back, eyes falling closed as he shot jets of semen between their hard-pressed bodies.

Warrick was only a couple of thrusts behind, and soon he yelled his release.

They lay entwined together for several minutes, waiting for the world to come back into focus once more. Then, afraid his weight would be too much, Grissom shifted slightly to the side but still remained half-sprawled over his younger lover.

"Mmmm, why'd you move?" Warrick asked, rubbing his hand over Gil's back.

"I didn't want to suffocate you." Grissom's own hand was exploring the smooth chest, enjoying the play of muscles as his lover shifted position to hold him closer. Lover. Just thinking the word sent a shiver through him.

"You think I'm fragile or something? I liked having you in my arms like that, Gil." Kissing Grissom's temple, Warrick continued, "Felt right, y'know? Like you're supposed to be there."

The older man had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat before answering, "It feels right to me, too."

Warrick kissed him; a tender, brief contact. As they drew apart, the moment was lost to a huge yawn.

"Get some sleep," Gil advised, amused. He was tired too, though he knew he would be awake for a while yet. He needed time to process this new development.

"You're not going to disappear on me, are you?"

The other man found himself glad there was no light in the room. He had no idea what his expression showed, but knew it would be too much, at least where this man was concerned.

"No. I'll be right here when you wake up." Reaching down, Gil grabbed hold of the blankets and pulled them up, covering both of them.

Within minutes, Warrick had dropped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Grissom had no such luck. He felt a deep unease stir within him. He had to be certifiably insane to think that a relationship with Warrick could work.

The age difference was nothing. It wasn't even a racial issue. Or the fact that he was Warrick's supervisor. As if those things weren't enough.

Gil's worry centered on the fact that he realized how deeply he already cared for Warrick Brown. Relationships had never been one of his strong suits, except for his mother.

Not that he had a trail of broken hearts in his wake, but the few serious relationships he had tried to cultivate over his lifetime had never lasted. Gil had finally decided that presenting an aloof exterior and keeping everyone at arm's length would hurt less. For all involved.

And yet Warrick Brown had somehow slipped through that self-made barrier without even trying. In the process, the younger man now possessed something that Gil had sworn he would never give again his heart.

Still troubled by the revelation, Grissom fell into a restless sleep.

~@~@~@~@~@~

Warrick stirred, aware of light shining in from a window that shouldn't be there. What? Then memory returned. Thanksgiving. Grissom. He blinked several times, suddenly realizing he wasn't alone in the bed.

Grissom?

The older man lay on his side, facing Warrick. His eyes were closed, his mouth half-open, his not-quite-snores punctuating the early morning silence.

What the fuck did I-- we do last night? Biting back a groan, Warrick found he recalled all too easily. His body certainly had no problem focusing.

It's what you've wanted for . . . hell, as long as you've known him! his other self chided. Why all the drama now?

Had Gil really wanted it though? Dr. Gilbert Grissom avoided personal entanglements like most sane people avoided the plague. The few women he had dated in the years Warrick had known him never stayed around long. The partings were never bitter, but they were definitive, except for Sara Sidle. Warrick still could not figure how she fit into all this. And at the moment, he didn't care. Grissom was in his bed, not hers.

Okay, so technically it was Grissom's bed, but that was splitting hairs. Back to the original question: had Griss really wanted them to make love last night?

Gil had trained him to follow the evidence, and he had always proved a quick student. Grissom had initiated their lovemaking, had taken control of it, in fact. And at the conclusion had wrapped himself around Warrick and fallen asleep as if it had been the most natural move possible.

As if responding to the unvoiced questions, Grissom shifted closer, draping his arm over Warrick's waist and pushing his hips forward. His morning erection poked at Warrick and the younger man bit back a curse as his own body responded in kind.

Warrick wanted so badly to reach out and touch but did he dare? Yes, he decided. By staying the night in this bed, Grissom indicated a willingness to take this further.

Heart pounding, he reached out and traced his fingers over the well-known features. How many times had he dreamed of doing this? Of being allowed the freedom to touch the untouchable Gil Grissom?

Then he reached the lips, those sinful lips.

And gasped in shock when the luscious mouth opened, drawing his fingers inside to suck on them. Sleepy blue eyes opened and met his. There was enough light in the room now for Warrick to easily read the unspoken desire there.

"I was dreaming about spiders and being caught in a web," Gil quietly joked. "And then I woke up and realized there were actually fingers dancing over my face."

Warrick chuckled, unabashed. "Sorry for waking you. You just looked so" He searched for a word. "Irresistible."

Grissom arched an eyebrow. "Irresistible? Funny, I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

Leaning forward, the younger man claimed a kiss, parting his lips in invitation and moaning when it was accepted. Breaking contact, Warrick gasped, "Yeah, well, they don't know you as well as I do. Or they'd damned well better not."

Gil's heart skipped a beat at the possessive tone. Reaching out, he brushed a hand over the springy curls, loving the texture. He wanted to say it, wanted so badly to voice what was in his heart.

Too soon, his mind cautioned.

Instead, he settled for the physical. Cupping Warrick's head and bringing him closer, he stared into the amazing green eyes before stealing his own kiss. He poured all he had into it, and felt the other man's answering response as Warrick's arms wrapped around him, bringing their groins into alignment.

"Make love to me, Warrick. Please?" he whispered, his own hand stealing down to lightly grasp his lover's already hardening shaft.

With a growl, the younger man rolled them over so he was on top. Last night had been Grissom's show. This morning Warrick took control, slowly bringing his partner to a mind-blowing orgasm.

When he could think again, Gil considered that this had to be the best Thanksgiving ever. Warrick's loving attention spoke volumes on the depth of his own feelings. Though still uncertain about the wisdom of starting this affair, no . . . this relationship, Grissom began to seriously consider that the possibilities of loving Warrick outweighed the potential risks.

~Fini~

***