Work Text:
Peanut
by: Katyd
Gil felt it was only fair to treat the kids to breakfast after they worked so hard solving the ‘Strip Strangler’ case and got none of the credit. He might joke about office funds but he had every intention of picking up the tab, and the easiest way to do that was just to outstay each of them and wave away any attempt to pay as they left.
Catherine was the first to go, grinning smugly as she climbed gracefully over Warrick, who made absolutely no move to get out of her way. He followed soon after, and although he offered Sara a lift she turned him down.
Sara lingered on another fifteen minutes or so, with a vague unformed hope of spending time alone with Gil, but although Gil and Nick weren’t excluding her, they were so caught up in their conversation about the manifest evils of the FBI she couldn’t seem to get a word in. Sighing she
got up to leave, but even though both men wished her farewell she wasn’t sure they even realised she was going as their conversation took a turn from the general to the specific.
“Culpepper is an ass,” Nick said, rolling his head to try and work out the kink’s left by an over-long shift.
“He’s a little misguided…” Grissom signalled to the waitress for more coffee.
“He’s an ass, Gris. Say it out loud and it might make you feel a little better. Culpepper is…”
A broad smile broke across Grissom’s face. “Culpepper is an ass.”
“Better?” Nicky asked him with a matching grin. If he was tired Grissom must be dead on his feet, but Nick was still too wired to head home and Grissom seemed comfortable where he was. Also the coffee was good. He wrapped his hands around the fresh mug.
“Yeah, a little.” Grissom’s expression became serious again. “So, Nicky, a question for you. ‘Peanut’?”
Nick’s laugh rang loud in the almost empty café. “I was in evidence lockup and Culpepper walked in. Told him I was on the phone to my girlfriend.”
“Did he buy that?”
“No, I think he knew it was you, but that didn’t mean I was going to admit anything.”
“Still, peanut? Have you ever actually called a girl that? And gotten away with it?”
“Well, yeah, one time; there’s something about food names girls seem to like, who knows why. Thing was I was talking to you and I… I couldn’t think of anything else.” Nick shrugged and grinned at Grissom sheepishly. “I’ve never had to think of a pet name for a guy before, I wouldn’t have a clue what to say.” He knew he was rambling, but he got this way when he was tired; punch drunk. He picked up his coffee cup and took a long draught, emptying it. All was quiet for a moment.
“Baby?”
“Pardon?” Nick couldn’t have heard that right. He looked over at the man beside him. Grissom had that contemplative budda look on his face, the one he got whenever he found a case really intriguing.
Right, theoretical extrapolation. Nick could do this. “Might one man,” Grissom expanded, “call another ‘Baby’?” Both men considered it for a moment then shook their heads.
“Nah,” Nick said, “too many daddy issues in that one.” He shifted on the seat, tucking his left leg under him so that he was facing Grissom. He brought his left arm up to lie along the back of the booth for balance.
Grissom nodded his agreement. “Honey?”
“Food again. Lover?”
“Not with a straight face. Stud?” They both looked down to hide the grins, but caught sight of each other out of the corner of their eyes and were soon laughing almost hysterically.
When the giggles finally tapered off a comfortable silence stretched between them. Considering the question Nick thought of all the loving couples he knew. Maybe there was an example that could carry through. Which gave him an idea. “Acushla?” he suggested. When Grissom looked inquiringly at him he elaborated. “Irish for ‘my love.’ It’s what my grandma always called my grandpa.”
“Acushla,” Grissom said the word as if trying its shape against his tongue. He twisted in his seat so that they were face to face. “I like that. Or I guess you can say…” his voice trailed off but his right hand rose from the table and he tapped the middle finger against his chest twice.
“My heart?” Nick mused, “yeah, I guess that could work. Works better in sign, but…” Jokingly he leaned closer, put his hand high on Grissom’s thigh and whispered, “My heart.”
Smiling just a little Grissom reached up and ran a hand over Nick’s shoulder. “Acushla.” Their eyes met and the laughter died. Between one breath and the next Nick became aware of every inch of his own skin. His left hand itched where it lay, a hairsbreadth from stroking Grissom’s neck. He could feel that skin, a phantom beneath his fingertips, rough where there was beard, smooth where there was none. His other hand was resting on Grissom’s thigh, the thumb stroking Grissom’s flesh of its own volition, every nerve ending apparently aware of just how close it was to something that wasn’t leg. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Grissom’s mouth, saw his lips part softly, could have sworn he saw a breath pass between them, wet from his tongue. Felt that same breath caress his own face like a benediction. For an endless brief moment there was something between them, something like knowledge or instinct. His arm burned where Grissom’s hand rested against him and Nick stoped breathing, and then the moment was broken.
“You boys want some more coffee?” The waitress was grinning at them as they sprang apart. She winked conspiratorially and Nick could feel the blush burning his face and throat.
“No, thanks, I gotta go. See you at work tomorrow?” He couldn’t look at Grissom, couldn’t look at anyone, he just had to get out of there. He pulled a note from his wallet, couldn’t even see what it was, and dropped it on the table.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nick.” Grissom’s voice was low, but still clear as Nick blindly made his way to the door. Safely on the other side he chanced a look back through the glass; Grissom was still siting at the table, gazing into space.
end part 1
E-mail address for feedback: katyd@pacific.net.au