Work Text:
Evidence-Denuo: Plan C
by Macx
Conrad Ecklie closed the door of his home behind him, walked into the kitchen, dropped the keys carelessly onto the counter, and opened the fridge. He took out a chilled bottle of beer, popped it open and took a sip before he even sat down on the leather sofa in the open living room. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the soft cushions, staring at the white ceiling.
Hell... was all that went through his head. Goddamn hell!
"Mew?"
He cracked a smile at the inquiring sound and glanced at the cream colored tabby that had almost magically and completely silently approached, now sitting on the backrest of the couch. Tail curled around her little body, ears pricked, green eyes gazing at him, she was almost asking a question.
Well, she probably was.
"Hell of a day," he only said.
"Mwrrt."
She came forward and pushed her head against his and Ecklie reached up, scratching her belly. She purred.
"Hell of a day," he whispered again, closing his eyes as she purred into his ear. "Hated every minute of it."
"Mew?"
Chuckling, he let his companion rub her head against his, then she decided that his lap was too much of an offer to resist and settled down on it without so much as a little treading. Gazing up at him, the cat seemed to almost sigh.
"Yeah, I know, I know. It was the plan and all, but it makes me feel like shit anyway, okay?"
"Mrrrr."
"Not that it changes their opinion of me, though Sofia probably curses my ass and other parts, and I know how she feels. She was looking forward to that supervisor position. Instead I broke up a team." Another sigh. "I hate this."
Soft steps announced the approach of the only other two-legged person in this household.
"You're home," Franklin stated.
"You noticed," Conrad replied sarcastically.
The gray-eyed blond winced. "That bad?"
"Worse."
"So the plan's set into motion."
"Yes." Ecklie took a swallow of beer again, then rested the still cool bottle against his head. "I've to give it to them... damn good acting."
Even when he had caught them alone, both playing their parts, it had looked real, so damn, painfully real. There had been no telling if someone else from the lab might have swung by, was somewhere close by and listening, so private talks had been role-playing, too.
"Conrad..." Franklin started and sank onto the couch, one leg curled underneath him as he sat sideways to look at his lover.
"I know, Franklin. It was the plan. We all agreed to it. I just can't help feeling like.. an asshole."
He emptied the beer bottle and felt the craving for more alcohol. He wanted to numb the effect all of this had on him. A few years ago it wouldn't even have touched him. It would have passed him by, another score for Conrad Ecklie against Gil Grissom.
Not any more, though.
Never again.
Franklin reached over and cupped his neck, gentle but strong fingers massaging the tense muscles.
"Nothing of this is for real," Franklin soothed.
"I know. Don't you think I know?"
The little cat meowed in protest as he shifted with the surge of anger. Ecklie sighed and petted her.
"Sorry, Cleo."
It earned him a reproachful look.
He met the gray eyes of his lover and saw the shared pain in there.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"No need to apologize."
Franklin continued his gentle massage and Ecklie found himself relaxing. Slowly, but surely.
"Want another beer?" his lover finally asked.
He smiled wryly. "Actually, I'd like something a lot stronger, but I don't think that would be a good idea right now."
The vampire leaned forward and kissed him. "You want to get drop dead drunk, be my guest," he teased, smiling. "Just don't expect me to wipe the floor behind you or listen to the bitching in the morning about headaches and the world doing a merry dance."
Conrad laughed softly. "I never bitch."
"No, you just complain. How about a nice dinner at the Shaman? Get your mind off things?"
He hesitated. Right now he only felt like curling up in front of the TV and letting the world go by. Monday would come soon enough and with it the animosities. He was used to them, but Conrad Ecklie had never let them touch him like he did now. Because he had never considered any of his co-workers friends.
"Or I could order something," Franklin offered. "We stay here, watch the Black-and-White Marathon that's on tonight. I think it's horror movies. We can have a good laugh." He grinned boyishly.
"Sounds good," Ecklie replied softly, reaching up to let his fingers run over the deceptively smooth skin of his lover.
"Great. So... Chinese? Italian? Greek? Thai? Spanish? Mexican?"
He laughed. "Pizza would be great. Kinda suits my mood."
Franklin smiled more. "I'll order, you get changed."
Ecklie watched him walk over into the kitchen to the phone and the magnetic board where the take-out menus were pinned to. Gathering the cat, he rose.
"Well, Cleo, you heard the man. You up for a shower?"
Cleo gave him a disgusted look and wriggled, so Ecklie dropped her gently onto the couch.
"Thought as much," he chuckled.
She followed him anyway, sitting on his bed and watching him undress, then walk into the bathroom.
She was still there when he came back, feeling refreshed and a little better.
* * *
Nick Stokes flopped onto the couch and groaned softly. "Man, what a day!" Grissom smiled at his prone lover and Nick flung a pillow at him. He deftly caught and sat down beside the lean form.
"I agree."
"You know, he's good. I have to give it to him. I almost believed it."
"That was the plan."
Dark brown eyes looked at him and Grissom saw the question there.
"We needed this, Nick. It was getting more and more difficult to both hide our relationship as well as what we are. It hurts me as much as you, and I miss the team, but..."
"Yeah, I know. But... why not put Greg and me on Catherine's team and Sara with you? I mean... Catherine and Greg know about us as a couple, as does Warrick."
Grissom shrugged. "Greg still needs his proficiency test, which is what I need to do. Sara... has a problem she won't confide into Catherine for. I know it and she trusts me."
Nick sighed. "Yeah, well... I hate splitting up, Gil. I really do." Grissom lay down next to him, propped up on one elbow to watch his handsome lover. "Me, too, but that's how the world works. People advance. Catherine needed this chance and while I didn't agree with Conrad on her having the swing shift, she now is a supervisor. And she has more time for Lindsey. I talked with her. She's not completely happy, but she feels better."
"Yeah, yeah," was the soft sigh.
Grissom ran a hand over the slender but powerful chest, letting it rest on Nick's stomach, feeling the warmth his lover emitted through the fabric of the t-shirt.
"We were lucky this came up now. At least we don't have to work on some kind of probably faulty plan to insure our safety," he remarked. "Or the getaway should one ever be necessary."
Nick nodded slowly. "I understand the moving around, I know why he did it as he did... man, the guy's one hell of an actor and he has the asshole attitude down to a 't'."
"Don't think it's easy for Conrad, Nicky. The two of us had only one chance to talk completely in private throughout the whole affair and it's taking a lot out of him. Like with us, people can only see a façade."
"I know that, Gil." Nick sat up, facing the older man. "I didn't mean it like that. It's great he cooperates on setting us up for possible escapes and to protect us. I'm just saying..." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Ah hell, what I'm saying is that I need to get used to this."
"All of us have to. Working swing shift is a change, but we'll see each other at the lab just as before."
"I know."
"And we have the weekends." Grissom pulled him down to him.
"The ones we're not on call," Nick corrected as he sank against his lover, meeting eager lips.
"And the mornings."
More kisses and Nick murmured an affirmative.
"So, this was Plan B, the revised version?" Stokes asked while Grissom was busy running his fingers under Nick's shirt and over naked skin.
"No, Plan B still stands," Gil answered and proceeded to rid Nick of his shirt. "But you're not leaving this town, this house, or me for Salt Lake City just yet."
"Oh, I very much agree. Plan C then?"
"Yes."
Nick groaned as a talented mouth found a hot spot at his neck and started to take advantage of it.
"But... B comes before C," he groaned.
"Plan B has already been prepared. C needed working on," Gil explained and fumbled with the button on Nick's jeans. "And as I said, I want you here as long as possible."
Success was announced by a sharp intake of breath that was exhaled in a moan. Nick's hips twitched into the fingers now massaging a piece of hard evidence in his pants.
"I see," he managed and tugged at Grissom's shirt.
"It's always good to have an alternative," his lover told him, sounding like he was delivering a lecture.
"Alternative sounds good," Nick agreed breathlessly.
"Yes, it does."
More clothes disappeared and there was skin against skin, hands roaming over every bit, teasing, caressing, stroking and fondling. Nick arched into the touch, closing his eyes, letting Grissom take over. He pulled his lover closer, kissing him eagerly, insistently, and Gil took the
hint.
Moans and other sounds of love-making filled the room, plans and alternatives forgotten.
~fin~