Chapter Text
A Cool Draft
by TexasBek
Chapter 1
A cool draft is the first thing I am aware of upon waking. Which leads me to notice 1) my shoulder is cold 2) I'm not wearing a shirt- I usually sleep in a ratty old Phi Delt shirt-odd, very odd 3) holy shit I'm not wearing shorts either and 4) I have one hell of a hangover. I simultaneously cover cold shoulder with my left hand and rub my eyes with my right. No, rubbing isn't clearing my memory. I am interrupted by the sound of a toilet flushing. Not alone. NOT alone. NOT ALONE! As I try to fit the pieces together, I'm confronted with the sight of my boss in nothing but boxer shorts smiling shyly at me.
"Morning Nicky. Feeling ok?"
Man, this is not expected. I'm sure, well ok I'm mostly sure I didn't have sex last night. But I am in the buff and Gil Grissom is.... wow.
"Nick?"
"Yeah, man, sorry. Just... umm..." What am I missing?
Gris has a look on his face that I've seen before. Disappointment. Oh, yes I know that particular Grissom look quite well.
When he leaves my room again I lie down and study my ceiling. Ok, start with what I do remember: Marty Buser's bachelor party. Old friends were in town to celebrate and I met them for drinks. Boozer, Holmes and Brown were staying at the Venetian. I met them at Vivid and laughed along while the guys pressed dollars in g-strings.
I was in a shitty mood. Being with the guys didn't remind me of how much fun we had; it just reminded me of how repressed I felt back then. Christ, I left Texas to escape that repression. To find out if I could actually be gay, not just sneak furtive glances at men one minute and pray for forgiveness the next. And after six years I am no closer to an answer. I've been to the clubs. Even gone so far as to participate in some fast and furious making out. But I haven't dated anyone. Haven't met anyone. Male or female. Even Gris dates more often than I do. Gris. Where did he come into this?
Ok, so I left the guys with an excuse about a case. By this point I was feeling the cocktails and was glad I'd opted to cab it tonight. I felt the urge to assert that I was different. I didn't need to be repressed anymore. So I headed over to Gipsy. Out of all the gay clubs in Vegas, Gipsy is my favorite. Unpretentious and uninhibited. I go there and I can dance till the sweat is dripping from my face and my thighs ache. Just losing myself in a thrumming beat and a throbbing heat. Men, sexy men behind me, in front of me. And I let go.
Dancing, oh god, I remember.
I was so deep in myself on the dance floor. My eyes were squeezed shut. But in the middle of a track, I opened my eyes. I don't think I'm corny enough to say I knew he was there. Whatever the reason, when I looked up I saw Gris watching me. With intensity I'd only seen at crime scenes. I'm getting flushed remembering his stare. It was... hungry. I walked over to him.
~The previous night~
"Come here often?" Smooth Nick, so smooth. No wonder you're single.
He actually winces at this. "I don't make the scene very often. I guess you could say I'm out of practice. But I'm pretty sure that line still doesn't work." The right side of his mouth lifts. And I am suddenly struck dumb with how hot that move is. He follows the smile with a slow wink. When I've been lucky enough to witness this before I've had the same reaction I'm having now- knees weakening. But whereas before I've shaken off the reaction with an admonition to get out and meet someone already, now I'm just smiling in return. Don't fuck this up man, don't do it.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asks me with a look of amusement in his eyes.
Well, I definitely need to relax the nerves a little and my buzz from earlier is waning. "Sure, Patron Silver."
No words are exchanged as we wait for the drinks. When the bartender delivers our glasses and limes I look Gil in the eyes and raise my glass. "Salud."
"Salud." He tips his head back and downs the tequila in one swallow.
I shake my head a little and chuckle. "I've never managed that."
"What's that, Nicky?"
"Tequila with no tequila face."
"One of my skills. Let nothing show."
He is trying for flippant but what I see is more self-derision.
"So, Gris, you want to dance."
"Don't dance."
"Oh, we could go over to the lounge and...."
"No, I'm sorry, Nick. I didn't mean to bother you. Go back to dancing. Really. Don't let me bring your night down." I'm losing him already. It's weird, this quick change between confident and insecure.
"No really, I'd like to hang out with you." And it's true. I have to know what is behind the look he was giving me on the dance floor. I respect Gil Grissom more than any man I've ever met. Since leaving home, he has been a surrogate father figure. But that look was in no way paternal. And the zing in my blood has nothing to do with respect.
We walk over to the glassed-in lounge and grab a two-top.
"You're a great dancer."
So right to the point, I see. "I like it. Gris, man, I know you say 'assume nothing' but your presence here...." I let the sentence trail off and just watch him.
He gives me a wry smile and says, "Yes, in this case, your assumption is probably correct. Would I be remiss in making a similar assumption about you?"
Laughing now, "No, I mean yes... I really don't know."
"Okaaayyy" he draws out "I'm not sure what that means."
"I am definitely gonna need more tequila to get into this with you."
I slap my palms on the table and wander over to the side bar. I come back with four more shots balanced in my hands.
"Do you usually drink like this?"
"Not in a long time, man."
We share the first shot and this time I think I detect a small furrow in his eyebrows.
"Where were we? Oh, yeah. My story. I guess you could say I kinda think I'm gay. I mean, I'm pretty sure but I don't actually have any evidence."
"Evidence?" he asks me with an eyebrow quirk.
"Umm, experience. I mean I know that I'm attracted to.... but I haven't actually acted much...." I suddenly feel very stupid having this conversation with him. And he is beginning to look decidedly uncomfortable. So I do what any sane man would do. I finish the other two shots.
"Do you think the owner is just a bad speller or is there a story behind Gipsy?" Desperate to change the subject, this is the best I could come up with. I am really bad at this. And there was a tad too much sibilance in that last sentence.
"Did you know that gypsies were registered and deported to Auschwitz in Nazi Germany? Dr. Robert Pitter, one of the first criminologists, made a name for himself by explaining how Gypsies were of 'inferior blood' that predisposed them to asocial and criminal tendencies."
"Not an auspicious beginning to our profession." Slurring. I'm actually slurring. And spinning. Aw shit. Drunk in front of my boss. And now he's back to being my boss in my eyes. Because after he's witnessed this, he will never consider me as anything other than a subordinate.
"No, its... are you ok, Nicky?"
"Great, man. You ready for another round?"
~Present Day~
"Ugghhh." Yeah I really screwed this situation up but that still doesn't explain how I got here naked and why he is using my shower. Standing naked, rivulets of water cascading down his torso. That image makes me groan despite the hangover. I have got to find out what happened.
I slowly get out of bed and reach for my robe. I've really got to piss but I don't think walking in the bathroom is the best move now.
Determined to ignore my bladder, I shuffle to my small kitchen to make coffee and toast. While the coffee begins to brew, I dig out some Advil and a half-full liter of Gatorade. Ibuprofen and electrolytes. Thank God it is my day off.
I grab two coffee cups and am checking for cream when I hear footsteps. Grissom is now dressed in black slacks and a midnight blue long-sleeved shirt- same shirt as last night. That shirt does miracles for his eyes.
"Nick, if you're up to it, I think we really need to talk."
"I've got to pee, man."
While in the bathroom, I run water over my face and brush my teeth and hair. Then I take a deep breath and go to face the music.
TBC