Chapter Text
Untitled by Filter-- part one
2-22-03 (one day late HB, WP!)
Without a doubt, Gil Grissom knew his mind.
Every fissure and fold of his gray matter he had been exploring since he was very young, back when he first got a glimpse of the infinite potential of the human mind. At the time, he'd likened it to a rotating door, offering him quick glances into the huge capacity for thought and reasoning. Since that time, he had been fortunate enough to be able to get his foot in the door more than once and get a longer, more thoughtful look at the infinite nature of his mindâ€"it never ceased to leave him both stunned and frightened.
*So why,* he wondered, *can't I figure out how this puzzle works?*
The chief CSI was lying on his back near the end of his shift, flat out on the floor in his office with a small metal puzzle in his hand. It consisted of two rings and a circular piece of rope, with a piece of wood on the rope in an odd shape. When he'd seen it on the table in the break room, he'd picked it up and become immediately intrigued by it.
He'd now been at it for over an hour. He had yet to become frustrated, but leaning over his desk and peering at it so closely had made his back hurt. Grissom had sighed, rubbed his sore back roughly, and stretched out on the floor, game in hand. His graying hair was mussed from his hands worrying it, and it stuck out in odd tufts all over.
Gil had just started to review theories of space and dimensions when Catherine Willows came in looking for him. It was forty minutes after end of shift and she had noticed he hadn't come into the locker room to change. Not that it was completely atypical, but he had the day off tomorrow, as she did, and they had chatted about maybe having dinner at her place laterâ€"she'd mastered paella and knew for all his smooth demeanor Gil Grissom was an avid fan of spicy foods.
She opened the door hesitantly and peered in. The room, as she expected, was dim, but she noted Gil's phone was on his desk, as were his beeper and the baseball cap he'd worn to workâ€""bad hair day," he'd said, astonishing his team. Grissom worried about his hair?
"Gris?" she called out, stepping in and looking about. *Is he buried under a pile of files somewhere?* she wondered. "Hey, Gil? Where are you?"
Grissom came out of his trance. "Hello?" He was disoriented and sat up awkwardly. "I'm here," he said softly, taking off his glasses and rubbing eyes red from concentrating.
Catherine came around and saw him on the floor. "Gil? Whatâ€"are you okay?" she asked, noting his eyes and frustrated frown.
"I'm fine... except I can't for the life of me figure out this puzzle! It's not obvious or silly, and it's not like any puzzle I've seen before..."
Grissom trailed off when he saw Catherine smiling at him. She had always been a little in awe of his mind, a little intimidated, and more than a little amused by his ability to get so absorbed in an idea that he'd more than once in her presence tripped off a curb or smacked into a car while walking and talking and thinking. *Grissom, for a man with an amazing mind, you can really be a fool,* she thought without malice.
"What? Catherine, *you* figure it out!" Grissom said huffily, holding the piece up. She had just taken it when Nick Stokes walked in.
Nick was feeling tired after a long day of climbing through the city dump for evidence with Warrick Brown, but he had showered and was ready for beer and bed. He had put down a little harness part that his niece from Texas had sent him as a kind of sculpture from her first week at farrier school, and he'd thought he'd left it in the break roomâ€"when he'd gone to get it, the thing had disappeared.
"Hey Nicky," Cath called out. Gil waved his hand.
"Hey you two. I was just coming in to askâ€"oh! Cath, where did you find it?" Nick stepped forward and took the "game" from her hands. "I thought someone had tossed in in the trash."
"Nickâ€"that thing is yours?" Grissom said, trying to get up from the floor. He seemed to have a cramp in his leg and grunted painfully.
"Gris, lemme help you," Nick said, stepping forward smoothly. He put one hand under Gil's left elbow and easily pulled him up. Grissom once again was stunned by Nick's easy strength andâ€"*his grace*, he thought. He shook off a feeling of warmth and dusted his clothes.
"Thanks. Now, will you please tell me how to solve that thing?" Grissom asked, an edge of irritation in his voice.
This whole time, Catherine was stifling a giggle, but when she saw Nick's confusion she let out a burst of laughter that both men jumped at. "Oh, Gil..." she said, shaking her head.
"This thing?" Nick held up the metal-and-rope piece. "Gris, this is from my niece. It's something she cobbled together at her school. It's notâ€"did you think it was one of those weird puzzles?" Nick asked in amazement. He had just begun to notice the frustration on his boss' face, and he began to feel the infectious laughter coming from Catherine.
Grissom looked at him closely, frown deepening. Suddenly, one of his brain folds released the puckish synapse that had been struggling against his more rational ones to tell him that it was just a mess of metal and sisal. He slumped against the wall. "Oh, god," he moaned, headache suddenly knocking on his forebrain. "Nick, don't tell me Iâ€"Nick, I was trying to figure that thing out for an hour!"
Nick stared, opened his mouth, and suddenly was doubled over with laughter. His and Catherine's mingled and echoed in the office while Gil groped his way to his chair and sat heavily, folded arms on his desk receiving his slumping head. He listened to his CSIs laughing at him, and even through his headache, a tiny part of his right brain said well, yeahâ€"it is kinda funny, Gil, you gotta admit.
*No I do not,* Grissom thought childishly. He raised his head and pushed back in his chair. "All right," he said sternly. "Enough laughter on my behalf."
Nick leaned on one arm on his desk. "Oh man... I can't believe you were at it so hard! It's just something she sent me for my desk, or table... I'm sorry, man!" he cried, then started laughing again.
Catherine recovered more quickly, knowing how sheepish Gil must have felt and feeling a little guilty that such a brain had been wasting time on an impossible problem. She came behind him and leaned her hands on his shoulders. She was astonished to find them stiff and tense. "Nicky... come on. Give the poor old guy a break."
Nick coughed a few times and wiped tears from his eyes. "Iâ€"I'm sorry. I wish I'd found you earlier, but you weren't in the locker room. It'sâ€"man, I'm sorry you spent all that time on it!"
Nick Stokes did feel a little guilty. His boss and the man whose work and demeanor he strove to emulate was looking at him with a mix of disappointment and flustered shame. "Gris, I'm sorry, really," he said again, a little weakly.
Grissom sighed. "I'm not that old. Okay, maybe I am a little old to be wracking my brain on a piece ofâ€"horse harness? It'sâ€"it's okay." He tried to smile, felt a twinge in his shoulder, and reached up to rub it. Catherine moved her hand for his and Nick felt an awful guilt building when he saw Gil's face wince in pain. *How long had he been on the ground, with this stupid thing in his hands? An hour?*
"Grissom, let me make it up to you. I shouldn't have laughed like thatâ€"man, you shouldn't waste your brain on this shit!" Nick flung the rope away from him into Gil's trash can. He felt ashamed of his laughter.
Gil stood up and leaned over stiffly to fish the piece out. "Nicky, it's for you. It's my fault for not being able to think *inside* the box." Grissom handed it to Nick and smiled a little. He knew the young CSI was feeling horrible for laughing at his boss, even if he knew Gil was laid back enough to take it.
*But I am pretty damn tired now,* he thought. He looked into Nick's pained eyes and saw a real desire for atonement there.
Nick took the thing guiltily. "Aww... it's just Dana's little thing. It's nothing," he said.
"Nick, come on. It's fine, right Gil?" Catherine asked. She had a feeling she wasn't going to be seeing Gil later.
Grissom nodded. "Yeah. It is." He turned back to his chair and sat heavily. "I'll be happy to get home, though."
Nick felt an appalling desire to cry. He near-idolized Grissom--and Gil had been involved as a star in a few of Nick's non-work fantasies, as sleep stole up on him.
Nick Stokes had taken a long while to come to terms with his tendencies, or his attractions. When he'd moved to Las Vegas, something about the wild liberal town had helped him accept his feelings for men, his feelings for women, and his feelings for a completely inaccessible chief CSI.
So, when he looked at his boss and occasional dream partner and saw him disappointed in Nick, even though he knew Grissom would get over it, Nick felt he'd just shot his father or mother. He felt horrible.
"Gris, please let me make it up to you. I shouldn't have laughed like that. You had no idea, and it does look like those puzzles. Let me buy you a drink, and you can yell at me in private at a bar where Catherine won't hear," he said, smiling weakly.
Catherine watched the young CSI stumble over words. She knew Nick had a huge crush on Grissom's mind, and had wondered if Nick was enamored of Grissom's other, more earthly parts. Now, she thought she was getting the beginnings of an answer. "Hey Gil, maybe that's a good idea," she said. "I can make that paella next week. You probably don't feel in the mood for a long dinner."
Grissom slipped his newest case file into his briefcase and slapped his baseball cap on his head. He stood, slung his jacket on, and dropped his cell phone and beeper into his pockets before answering. When he looked over at Nick, his face was unreadable.
"You can buy me a scotch, Nick. And I'll think about not knocking you on your evaluation for insubordination," he said, face perfectly straight. Catherine, a longtime friend, knew he was teasing Nick, but remained silent. She was interested in how Nick would reactâ€"she was also interested in Grissom's intent.
After eight or so years of friendship, during a rare night off, Grissom had confided to Catherine that he thought he might be completely asexual. She had laughed at him.
"Why are you laughing? Doesn't it make sense?" he'd asked.
She smiled at his furrowed brow and reached over to smooth it with one finger. "Gil Grissom, you're too handsome and charming in that egghead way to be asexual. I've seen you looking at me sometimes, and other people, and I've seen you looking at men the same way."
Gil's face had dropped. Catherine thought he didn't look embarrassed, justâ€"caught.
"No you haven't," he stalled.
"Jesus, Gil! And don't tell me you don't remember that one night last year after my CSI 2 promotion party..." she started. Grissom paled. They'd made out like teenagers that night in a bathroom. He remembered it as very, very pleasant, but it seemed strange to think he and Catherine, whom he considered his best friend, had had each other's tongues in their mouths.
He tried to smile. "I was a good kisser, wasn't I?" he asked innocently. Catherine howled. *Where does he manage to get those balls when I know he's dying of embarrassment?* she wondered.
"Oh... yeah..." she'd purred at him.
Catherine was watching those lips now as they smiled slightly at Nick Stokes.
To his credit, Nick took it relatively well. "If I have to, I'll go on a rollercoaster with you and hold my hands up the whole time," he parried, and Gil's grin increased.
"You're on. Catherineâ€"darlin', next week. I'll bring the rojo," Gil had said. He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thanks," he said before he straightened.
"Okay boys, be good. I'll see you later."
* * * * * * *
Fifteen minutes or so later, after considering the variables of early AM drinks, they were in Grissom's truck, deciding fighting traffic even at 4 am was too much in two vehicles. Nick let Gil choose and Grissom drove several miles south of the strip to a small, semi-dim bar with only a few cars outside.
Nick noted the lack of people. "Wow. How'd you find any place not swarming with touristsâ€"and open?" he wondered. Gil shrugged.
"Orlando doesn't even have a slot machine inside. He's a true maverick."
The inside was dim, semi-smoky, and relatively quiet. Nick could hear gentle music form somewhere, and a few conversations, in more than English. Gil moved easily to a back booth and slid in, sighing in contentment. Nick slid in more slowly, head swiveling as he checked out the placeâ€"he was amazed anyone was in there, even if it *was* Las Vegas.
Nick's surprise amused Grissom when a man came over and slapped down a Shiner Bock in front of Gil, icy cold. Grissom shook the man's hand with a wide smile.
"'lando, 'manito! Que pas' guey?" he laughed in a musical Spanish. Nick's mouth dropped.
"Como que guey, guero? Gil, where you been, brother?" Orlando was a muscular Chicano with a tattoo of the Virgen de Guadalupe on his forearm. He was looking at Gil with genuine interest and friendship, Nick noted when he was able to wrap his brain around a biâ€"tri?â€"lingual Grissom.
"Round and about, broâ€"oh. Nicky Stokesâ€"Orlando Guerra. Runs the finest little cantina in LV!"
"Nice to meet you," Nick said, noting Orlando was veryâ€"veryâ€"strong.
"Hey, an amigo of Gil's, etcetera etcetera, no? What can I get for you?"
"One of those? Haven't had one since last Christmas, in Dallas," Nick said as Gil took a long drink of beer. He gulped himself as he watched the tan column of Grissom's throat moving.
"Oye 'berto, you been hiding a Tejano from me? Que gacho!" Orlando said, looking at Gil with mock anger. Grissom shrugged.
"What can I say 'mano? He's trying to make up for being a pendejito today."
Orlando looked back at Nick sternly. "What did you do to mi carnal, Nick? Don't you know Grissom is the man? El hombre, not just any, tu sabe?"
Nick raised his hands in surrender. "I'll wash dishes, I'll do laundry, justâ€"Gil, give me a break! I just laughed, man..." he trailed off when he saw Gil smiling.
"Nick, calm down. Lando, get the chico here a Shiner, then come over and sit when you got the time. I wanna know how my goddaughter is doing, huh?"
Orlando waved and smiled. "Sure. I gotta few things to do yet, but I'll stop back. Be right back with your beer, Nick."
"Thanks."
Nick was still trying to wrap his brain around Gil speaking what seemed to be dialect Spanish when suddenly it started to process that Gil was a godfather. The image made Nick smile hugely all of a sudden.
"What the fuck are you grinning at, Nicky?" Grissom asked. Nick looked up quickly and was relieved to notice Gil was smiling around the neck of the bottle, tilting the beer up for another long swallow. Nick couldn't help the tight feeling in his chest when he saw Grissom's throat move... *it's so amazingly sexyâ€"and he's just drinking a damn beer!* Nick thought helplessly.
"When did you become a compadre, Gris?" Nick asked. Gil raised one quizzical brow.
"When did you learn Spanish, Nicky?"
"You first."
Grissom leaned back, beer in hand while he considered Nick. Nick did not like the way Grissom's eyes narrowed at him. It felt veryâ€"microscopic. He knew suddenly what Gil's insects felt like before they were suffocated and pinned down.
"Orlando and I met when I moved back to Las Vegas from California. I was there a half year doing some research.
"When I came back I was trying to find a new place, and I hooked up with a friend who told me he knew a guy who had an extra room, really cheap, and he thought I'd be perfect. And it was Orlando.
"My friend didn't tell me that Lando had an extra room cause he'd just lost his wife and was raising his baby daughter by himself. So, I get there, and a little 18-month old girl is there when I open the door. She's looking up at me, and I can't speak, and then she toddles up andâ€""
"And grabs this shocked little gringo's leg and won't let go. I haven't even met the man and Graciela won't let him go!" Orlando laughed as he put Nick's Shiner down. He leaned against the booth and grinned. "I'd never seen a man so scared of a little girl! When I finally got her off him, I think they had become friends."
Grissom laughed. "Graciela was the closest a female had gotten to me in a long time back then, 'manito! Anyway, I ended up staying there over a year, and for some weird reason Lando asked me, a lapsed everything, to be Gracie's compadre."
"Yeah! Had to fake he was a Catholic, never seen a more confused man! The padre, he starts, and I forget he's gonna do the baptism in Spanish!" Orlando bent over with laughter, and Nick had to giggle as well.
Grissom looked miffed. "Hey, I had no idea what the hell I was saying. Lando's whispering in my ear, and everyone's looking at me like I'm the whitest damn Mexican they ever seen, and it feels like forever! And damn it if they didn't make *me* pick her middle name!"
"What did you pick?" Nick asked?
"Stacy!" Gil and Orlando said together, laughing hysterically. Nick laughed with them, and again had to struggle with a tightening in his groin when he saw Grissom laughing. The little crinkles around the man's eyes, his smile, the way his blue eyes lit up-- *Jesus, please stop it!* Nick admonishes himself.
"Iâ€"I couldn't help it, I forgot Lando said I could pick, and I justâ€"it's my sister's name! Jesus... poor Gracie!" Grissom laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. Orlando smiled at him.
"'berto, you know she loves it. At least it's not Maria, she says!"
Gil had regained his composure. "True. Hey, how is Graciela? She'sâ€"nine now?"
"Si, 'manito. She turned nine in Octoberâ€"you remember, you came for a little to her party! She misses you."
"Oh yeah. Some kids' pizza place." Gil shuddered at the memory. "There were like forty little shrieking kids there, Nick. And the only one I wanted to see was Gracie. I was made to wear a stupid hat by a large rodent with a bowler hat."
Nick gaped, then laughed hard, a sharp bark. Orlando looked at him, amused. "Oh! My life for a picture of that!"
"Heyâ€"I can accommodate," Orlando said, and walked back to the bar over Gil's protests.
"Noâ€"Lando! Hijole....Nick, why'd you have to do that?" Grissom asked in exasperation, finishing his beer. He got up before Nick could protest and went to the bar himself.
Orlando was reaching behind the bar for the photot of Grissom in a Chuck E Cheese hat when he felt Gil's arm. "Hey hermanito! I like yer boy there, he's funny."
Gil frowned. "I don't need him to see that. I'm his boss, bro, come on!"
Orlando turned and looked at his old friend. He thought the time had been relatively good to Grissom, except for a few worry lines. He saw the same incredibly quick intellect in the blue eyes, and the same self-absorption. "Oye Gil. Calmate. What's up with you? I haven't seen you in weeks!"
Gil looked over at Nick. "It's been busy. You heard about the multiple rapes and murders. My guys are on it. Andâ€"" Gil rubbed his neck and grabbed his own beer, "â€"and ya know, gotta give me credit for being here today, Lando."
Orlando considered. "Que pas', 'berto? Why haven't you been by to talk? What are we friends for?"
Gil opened the beer and took a long drink. "I know, I know. Gracie even gave me a call a couple of days ago. Felt guilty as hell."
"What is it? Is it that little boy over there? 'Cause 'berto, I mean, he's really-- *really*-- trying not to show it."
Gil choked a little on his beer. "What? Nick? Nah. Nick's a good ol' boy from Texas."
Orlando laughed. "Gilberto, I watched you for years now, and I don't know how you think other people see you, but with that tan, those eyesâ€"oye homes, the chicas and chicos stare at you! And that one's about to bust his pants!" Orlando laughed when Gil paled.
"Hey! Keep it down." He glanced over at Nick, who did seem nervous. "You know, sometimes I wish you *would* give me a Catholic guilt trip!"
"Hey, when I walked in on you and Rolando at the barbecueâ€""
"We were drunk!" Gil protested, too loudly.
"â€"si, but you have to admit I took it well!"
Grissom remembered the long, long night seven years ago when Orlando had thrown a barbecue to celebrate opening his bar. He'd drunk far too many beers and shots by ten pm and had groped and kissed a cute friend of Lando's in the bathroom. They both had been into it and Gil had only stopped because Lando came in looking for him. Rolando had kissed him goodbye and to this day Gil could feel that kiss. It had been his first really intense experience with another male. "You did," he sighed. "Okay, look. Don't show Nick the pic. Give me one of Gracieâ€"that one. The one in my wallet is old. And give me a couple shots of Sauza."
Orlando poured them with a smile. He waved off Gil's twenty. "Please. Have a good time, ese."
"Gracias," Gil said thankfully, and went back, hands holding a triad of liquor.
* * * * * * * * *
Nick had been fidgeting awkwardly while Gil was gone. He had sensed they were talking about him, but had the good sense not to look over. He smiled lopsidedly when Gil came back with the drinks. He had barely touched his beer. "Hey!"
"Hey. I got us some shots. Fine tequilaâ€"I figured you're from Dallas, you do tequila."
Nick did tequila. He did it too often, and sometimes ended up in other people's beds afterwards--*but Gil can't know that, right?* he thought. "Oh yeah. Mother's milk down in Texas."
Gil slid back into the booth and smiled. He lifted his shot glass and waited for Nick to do the same. "To us and those like us," he said with a grin.
Nick strained to remember, then said, "Damn few left."
"Amen!"
They drained the shot, and Nick, more accustomed to tequila, smiled at Grissom's slight grimace. "What's the matter?"
"Noâ€"nothing. I don't drink tequila that often. Forgot how it is!"
"Yeah, it can really open you up," Nick said, then blanched. Had he really just said that to his boss?
Grissom looked up at Nick from under his lashes. He had a quizzical look on his face. "Oh, can it?" he asked, voice a tone lower than normal.
Nick swallowed. He covered, or tried to, by taking a drink from his beer. "Forgot how good this was."
"I said," Grissom repeated, raising his head and looking levelly at Nick, "can it?"
Nick looked into Grissom's eyes for a second too long and felt a blush begin. He looked away, down at his fingers picking at his bottle label. "Uh, well, for me... it does, yeah."
Grissom leaned back and grinned. He had no idea why he was torturing his poor CSI, who did nothing wrong besides annoy him earlier. He drank his beer, lifted his cap a little, and passed the bottle over his forehead, enjoying the coolness. Nick watched from under his lashes with a growing heat in his body.
At the bar, Orlando smiled at Gil's actions. He sometimes believed Grissom didn't know the effect he had on some people. Orlando had more than once comforted women and a few men whom the CSI had simply ignored or missed signals from. *Maybe Gil just goes with what he feels in the moment,* Orlando thought. *It'd make sense.*
Grissom liked the cool feel of the bottleâ€"he himself was feeling a little overheated and his head was beginning to ache again. He set the bottle down, ignoring the drops of condensation that fell on his shirt, darkening the gray fabric.
Nick noticed. The drops fell on Grissom's chest, and Nick's eyes were drawn there and lingered for a moment. He tried to swallow and felt his throat locked. With a supreme effort he looked back at Gil.
"I want another shot," Grissom said, and before he could get up Nick fairly leapt to his feet and bolted over, yelling "I'll get them!" over his shoulder.
Nick leaned, nearly in pain, on the counter and Orlando clucked in sympathy. "My friend, he can be a little mindfucker, huh?" he said sympathetically. Nick looked up with wide eyes. The last word he wanted to hear right now was *fuck*.
"Oh god.... What the hell is happening? Uhâ€"can I get two more shots of tequila?" Nick asked, wiping his sweaty brow with a bar napkin. Orlando pushed the shots over.
"Hermanito, Grissom isâ€"he is what he is, no? Be yourself, and don't let him take you for a ride. He doesn't like people who play games. Be yourself. He must like you, he's here with you and he *never* comes here with anyone!"
Nick stared, then gulped. "Oh. Oh, all right. Okay. I was just trying to make up for pissing him off earlier... that's all."
Orlando chuckled. "I know. He'sâ€"I love that man. Pero, I don't know if he's really as together as he seems all the time. He is a lonely man some of the time, and I wantâ€"I want him to be happy. That's all."
Nick nodded, taking the shots. "Thanks. Let meâ€"" He set down a shot to reach for his money, and Orlando shook his head.
"You drink free. And Grissom. Hereâ€"as a matter of fact, so I can talk to other peopleâ€"here." Orlando set a Sauza bottle on the counter, more than half full. "Vayanse. Have fun, Nick. Really."
Nick smiled. Maybe he could relax. He triangled the drinks. "Gracias, Orlando."
Gil smiled in pleasure when he saw Nick return with the tequila. "Bueno, Nicolas! Well done."
Nick slid into the booth. "Orlando's a great guy," he commented.
Gil slammed his shot and spun the top off the bottle. *Why do I feel like getting drunk?* he wondered briefly. "Claro que si."
"Grisâ€"when did you learn Spanish?"
Grissom poured both of the shots, waiting till Nick had cleared his. "Graciela taught me. We learned together."
"So, that's why yourâ€""
"â€"Spanish isn't standard Castilian, right. How the fuck are you gonna lithp all your ethes?" Grissom exaggerated before downing another shot.
Nick raised an eyebrow. He hadn't heard Grissom use *fuck* more than once in a day ever... it intrigued him. He held out his empty shot glass. Nick wasn't sure he wanted to get drunk, considering how he was feeling about Grissom, but he certainly needed more loosening up.
"Excellent, Nicky. No, I learned straight up modified-for-Nevada Tex-Mex. Lando's from Brownsville originally. Came here about ten years ago to work in the casinos, and decided he hated the noise. So he started working in construction and decided to open a bar. And here we are. Nowâ€"" Grissom leaned forward. Nick caught his breath at the intensity of the blue eyes staring at him. "â€"how did you learn your Spanish?"
"I took four years. Don't remember all of it, but I get by. You're pretty good." Nick poured himself a shot and toasted Gil before slamming it. That one got his guts moving, and Nick decided to slow down.
Gil forsook the glass and did his next shot from the bottle. He couldn't quite understand why he was so eager to get drunkâ€"what did he think would happen? "Have to be. Remember, Grissom is perfect. Gotta know it all." And the sudden realization of what he'd just said made Grissom intensely sad. He leaned back against the booth and looked down at his hands. "And it's fuckin' exhausting," he muttered.
Gil had thought he'd said it quietly, but Nick heard it. He tilted his head to look at Gil, slumped back and suddenly looking older and tired. And it touched him.
Nick had always tried to work closely with Grissom, and as such had seen the man in more unguarded emotional situations than anyone except Catherine. He'd seen the man near tears at a crime scene, throwing things in the lab, and frustrated at a lack of evidence. He'd also seen Grissom smile and laugh in pleasure.
What Nick was seeing now he wasn't sure of. Grissom was hurting somehow, but it really didn't seem to be Nick's fault. He seemed both tired and frustrated. "Hey Grisâ€"you okay, buddy? Something go wrong today at work I don't know about?"
Grissom didn't look up. He heard the concern in Nick's voice, and he didn't want to hear it. Grissom's brain was feeling fried, a combination of frustration at his inability to use common sense to figure out the rope "trick" and a very long day at work. He felt as if he could actually feel the pain of stretching and firing synapses. "No," he answered, low and soft. The tequila had begun building his drunk wall of insistent "fine"-ness.
Nick heard the tone, and knew the sound. They'd all been drunk at least once around each other, and knew the vague "I'm fine" sound of each one. He shook his head slightly. "Okay, boss. Heyâ€"just to finish off the whole story that got us hereâ€"the thing you found was from my niece. She'sâ€"get thisâ€"she's in farrier school!" He waited to see if Grissom would understand, and didn't have to wait long. Nick was pleased it got Gil to raise his head.
"Your niece goes toâ€"horseshoeing school?" Grissom asked, voice tinged with disbelief, taking another shot of tequila.
Nick nodded. "Yeah. Something she got in her head when she was pretty young. She's, uh, about 20 now. Likes the job. Always been kinda a tomboy," Nick finished, shrugging. When he looked up, he didn't like the dark grin on Grissom's face.
Gil was unable to stop his more libidinous nature from rising up out of a tequila fire. "Were you, Nicky?" he asked, far more nastily that he needed to. Something wanted to hurt Nick, and Grissom didn't know what it was in him that did. He just feltâ€"the presence of Nick made him feel oddly sexual. *Frankly, I feel horny right now,* he thought in an agave-induced haze.
"Was I what?"
"Were you a tomboy?"
Nick looked hard at Grissom. He saw the cold eyes, the grin, and knew the man was feeling the liquor pretty hard. He smiled and stood. "You're gonna have to wait. I have to hit the john," he said, and walked easily off. As he went, Nick felt the satisfaction of knowing he and Grissom were finally near a level playing fieldâ€"though Nick wasn't entirely sure four or five shots of tequila and a beer had quite brought Gil down to normal human thinking level.
Nick was very pleased to be able to unzip his pants in the stall. He groaned slightly in pleasure as he stood, tequila fanning both his libido and his bladder's need to empty itself. He had closed his eyes in semi-pleasure when he felt someone next to him.
Grissom was standing next to him, hands on his belt, looking down at Nick's open fly, eyes gauging candidly. Nick felt his penis want to shrivel up as he finished, too aware of those cold, incisive eyes and the silent man. Nick hastily buttoned up and stepped back, eyes on Grissom.
When he finally looked up at Nick, Grissom felt he could rape the young man on the spot. His anger and frustration wanted a physical out, and he was, he vaguely thought, damn lucky he was still partly in control. He saw the confusion and someâ€"a little?â€"fear in Nick's eyes and a nasty sneer touched his lips.
"What are you worried about, Nick? All the equipment seems to be in order," Grissom said before turning and unzipping his own fly. He tilted his head back in pleasure and Nick backed silently away. He had not wanted to get a glimpse of his chief's cock, despite the dreams, because something told him Grissom was not himself. Who he was, Nick wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.
By the time Nick got back to the table he had come to the unfortunate conclusion that he was, however, now going to find out how Gil's truck drove. As Nick slid in, he noticed the tequila bottle had been taken away and replaced with two more Shiners. He smiled over at Orlando and raised the beer in salute.
* * * * * * * *
Grissom took a long time in the bathroom. He had to steady himself when he opened his eyes, and he washed his face several times, trying to clear up the angry cloud that seemed to have descended on him
He looked into the mirror for a long time, turning his head this way and that, trying to observe himself objectively. He took off the baseball cap and ran his hand through his hair and noted the encroaching gray. Slapping it back on backwards, he looked deeply into his own eyes, frowned, and smacked the mirror with his open right hand.
"Shit!" Gil screamed as part of the mirror shattered and a sliver of glass embedded itself in the side of his hand. He quickly turned on the water and washed it, pulling the glass out with a hiss of pain. It was deep, but not too wideâ€"a bleeder but no stitches.
As he carefully drew off his button-down shirt to wrap his hand in his undershirt, Gil caught sight of his face in the mirror. His eyes were dazed, he was pale and sweating, and he looked frightened. What he saw made him immensely sad and he looked away as he felt hot tears wash his face.
Gil had thought he knew how hard he could hit the mirror... and he didn't know if he'd hit it too hard on purpose or not. Psychology taught him a lot about the manifestations of the unconscious, and Gil wondered if he unconsciously wanted to hurt himself. He also wondered if he was just slipping because he was exhausted.
As he wrapped the hand carefully, pleased the bleeding was slowing, he leaned against the sink and tried to clear his head.
* * * * * * * * *
One of the first things of the many to annoy Grissom in his work day had been the discovery of not one, but two raped and murdered young women whose circumstances fit the profile of a serial murderer they had been tracking for three weeks. So far, the killer had raped and killed seven women, all in their own homes, and leaving practically nothing behind but a condom wrapper.
The second thing, the really annoying one, was the incompetence of the first officer on scene, who had not managed to step out of the room before spewing his hamburger lunch all over the edge of the bed. Gil had wanted to scream but had stuffed the impulse below his smooth exterior. Even Sara had commented on the unusual restraint he'd shown.
On the way back from the scene, he'd had a moment of hearing loss that'd scared him, as he'd been in traffic. He'd had to pull over and regroup for a few minutes. When he got back on the road, he'd noticed he was driving ten miles below the speed limit.
The whole day had been disaster after disaster, and then when he'd spotted the "puzzle", he'd thought he'd finally gotten a little break. Puzzles of all kinds pleased Grissom immensely, and he'd been ready for the distraction.
But not, then, the reality of it.
In the bathroom at the bar, Grissom sighed deeply. He felt more than immensely sadâ€"he felt despairing. Part of Gil's mind told him that was why he'd let Nick take him out. Another part said heâ€"well, he hoped Nick would be a kind ear.
"Well maybe he would be if you weren't such an asshole," Gil muttered to himself. He rebuttoned his shirt but neglected to tuck it back in, made the bandage on his hand tighter, and walked out in a foul but weak mood.
Nick noticed immediately Gil's pale face and the bandage. The medic in him swooped to the fore. "Gris? What happened?"
Grissom nodded at him and passed by to tell Orlando about the mirror. Orlando shook his head.
"Gil. Hermano. Go home, take a bath, sleep, whatever. You are way too upset to be out, and you're not ready to talk to me. Make sure Nick drives, all right?" Orlando said wisely. Gil shook his head.
"Lando, I'm trying to apologize for theâ€"fuck!!"
Orlando got Grissom's attention by grabbing his hurt hand and squeezing hardâ€"very hard. Other people in the bar glanced over briefly at the howl. He winced at Gil's shriek of pain and agonized face, but held on and watched sweat break out on Gil's forehead. "Now, Grissom. Go home. Call me and apologize later. Here, Nick!" Orlando plucked Gil's keys from his pocket and slung them to Nick. "Take him home, brother. Okay?"
He released Gil, who clutched his hand with a furious look at Orlando, who remained mild. Nick caught the keys and came over to support Grissom. "Yeah. Don't worry. I'll get him home and take care of that hand. Thanks, Orlando." Nick smiled as best he could as he supported his boss's weak frame. Gil glared as Nick helped him turn and go back to the table. Nick gathered up his cell phone and the picture of Graciela on the table, and guided Gil to the doorway with a parting glance at Orlando.
Orlando Guerra said a small prayer for his compadre, and sighed. *Grissom has demons the rest of us can't even imagine,* he thought.
* * * * * * * *
Nick couldn't believe how strong Gil remained. He had to fight to keep the keys, then wrestle Grissom toward the passenger door. As he went to open the door for him, Nick felt a hard blow under his chin. Grissom had whipped his elbow back wildly and spun away from Nick, staggering a few steps. Nick shook his head and looked at the dizzy chief CSI.
"Gris? Come on, don't make this all difficult, man... I don't wanna do this!"
"Nick, you don't have to do anything except give me the keys and leave me alone. I needâ€"I need so badâ€"" Grissom trailed off, hands gesturing helplessly. He could barely stand, blinded by pain and alcohol, but his anger and despair were fueling his body in a last ditch effort to fight.
Nick stepped forward, hopped slightly, and aimed a precise kick at Grissom's midsection. He hurt inside at the shocked grunt Grissom made before he doubled up, breath gone from his lungs in a rush. Quickly, Nick snatched Gil off the ground, opened the back of Grissom's truck, and shoved the man in. He locked the gate and was pleased to note Grissom couldn't open it from the inside. Gil was still trying to get his breath back when Nick pulled out in a cloud.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Nick drove as fast as he could, but by the time he got to Grissom's place the older man was kicking at the glass separating him from Nick. Stokes could hear the ranting epithets and was amazed at the energy Grissom still had.
When he got to the condo, Nick turned off the truck and sat in the front seat, turning on the radio. He had no intention of opening the back gate when Grissom still had enough energy to kick his teeth out. Nick was willing to wait until his boss exhausted himself.
Grissom had stopped kicking the window when he felt the truck stop, coiling to jump at Nick when the gate opened. When it didn't, and Gil heard soft music from the front and saw a calm Nick sitting patiently, occasionally looking back at Gil, he went berserk.
From the coiled position he launched himself at the truck gate glass, and bounced back. Furious, he launched himself backwards toward Nick, then against the sides of the truck. His fury was almost limitless.
Nick felt the first couple of truck-shaking impacts. He'd looked back worriedly once and thought *well, we know this truck is damn tough!* as he saw Grissom was unable to break the truck glass. He turned up the radio and stretched his legs, patient.
Anyone seeing the truck from the outside might have thought several dogs were fighting in the back. Grissom used his bounce off one side of the truck as impetus to slam into the other side. He screamed incoherently at Nick as he hurled himself against the truck.
Grissom was just beginning to feel tired when he slammed himself too low against the truck's side and hit a solid metal frame support. His shoulder shifted up and forward and he felt his arm collapse. He howled in pain, lookedâ€"and through all the anger saw he'd dislocated his shoulder.
Nick whipped his head around when he heard the scream of agony. He saw Grissom lying on the truck bed, his left shoulder unnaturally placed.
"Oh shit," Nick breathed, and jumped out. The screams from inside the truck were becoming weaker but were still loud and high.
He opened the gate and Grissom tried to crawl out backward, seemingly backing away from a frightful thing. Nick saw the awful paleness and pain on Grissom's face and carefully pulled him out, placing him on the ground gently. Nick assessed the arm quickly, aware they were about to wake up everyone in the neighborhood.
"Gil! Gil, I have to pull this back in place, pleaseâ€"will you listen! Gil!" Nick was trying to communicate but Grissom seemed fixated on the grotesquely angled arm. "Oh fuck it." He pulled his wallet out and held it in front of Grissom's face. "Open your eyes! Lookâ€"bite down on this, and I'm gonna pullâ€"quick! Do it!"
Grissom opened his mouth and clamped down on the leather, barely hearing Nick over his overloaded nervous system. As he bit down hard he felt Nick move his arm to his side, grab the left handâ€"
And suddenly vicious, overwhelming pain exploded in Grissom's head. He bit down until he felt he had to scream, and when he opened his mouth he felt a hand clamp down on it.
Nick held Grissom down with his own body while the pain worked its leisurely way through what Nick knew had to be an already pain-wracked frame. He hated the feeling of the shivering, shuddering man under him, and turned his face away from Grissom'sâ€"he couldn't bear to see that face in such agony.
In time, Grissom's mind decided it had had enough, thank you old boy, and shut down partially. The pain shrugged and whipped itself away, and Grissom gratefully passed out.
Nick shakily lifted himself off his boss. In all his dreams, wet or otherwise, where he'd had his body in contact with Grissom's, it had never been likeâ€"this. *Jesus, that is something I never ever want to go through again,* Nick thought. Carefully settling Gil in his arms, Nick made sure he had the man's keys, and lifted him easily. Walking toward the door, Nick was wondering if he'd make it to work tonight.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was easy to get into Grissom's place, easy to place his boss carefully on his bed. What Nick Stokes found difficult was stopping his eyes from roving over Grissom's limp body, hungry and warm.
He fetched a towel from Grissom's bathroom and returned to find his boss moaning slightly, eyeballs moving under closed lids. Nick didn't want another fightâ€"he was convinced Grissom wasn't completely spent yetâ€"and moved quickly.
Nick grinned absurdly as he took off Grissom's capâ€"somehow it had stayed on during all the struggling. He smoothed the matted hair back gently, lovinglyâ€"it felt just like he thought it would, both smooth and wiry. Nick allowed himself a moment to linger looking at Grissom's almost relaxed face, carving each wrinkle and line into his memoryâ€"he'd never been this close to his chief beforeâ€"before he started unbuttoning the man 's shirt.
Nick noted Gil had buttoned the shirt wrong. *Must've been really out of it,* he thought. Gil was meticulous in a shockingly casual way, and Nick couldn't imagine Grissom missing a button or two while dressingâ€"his attention to detail was practically instinctual. Nick moved the shirt aside and winced at the purpling bruise forming over Grissom's ribs. He could also see bruising beginning from several hard hits against the truck. One bruise was even rising on Grissom's chin, so violent had his actions been.
Feeling he'd made his boss a little more comfortable, Nick turned to the hurt hand. He placed a towel under the injury, aware of Grissom's gray jersey sheets--*nice bedroom,* Nick thought pointlessly. He unfolded the tight shirt carefully, sighing inside at Grissom's moans of pain.
The wound was deep, but not very wide at allâ€"Nick thought it would be painful but not very serious. He lifted the hand and took the shirt away, then went back into the bathroom and found what he was looking for under the sink. Nick smiled at the fairly impressive first responder kit he brought back in with himâ€"it was like Gil to be thorough in all the little things.
He worked quickly, knowing at any time Grissom could wake. The last thing he wanted was to have a bloody hand whacked into his face by a struggling Grissom.
Grissom wasn't struggling at all. He was, however, controlling his extreme pain and watching Nick from under lowered lashes. He felt the infinite care his CSI took, appreciating Nick's EMT training, as the younger man swabbed and taped.
Gil's rage had been completely cleared away by the agonizing pain he had experienced earlier. He felt weak and stupid, and grateful for Nick's presence.
Nick was almost finished when he felt a clammy hand on the back of his neck and froze at the touch and the groan of pain it brought from Grissom. He finished placing the last piece of tape and waited, breath held.
"Niâ€"Nicky," he heard. *Oh my god, his voice sounds horrible,* Nick thought in a mix of fear and pity.
"Gris?" Nick answered, unwilling to move. He feltâ€"oh Jesus, and it felt good to him!â€"the fingers rub briefly on his neck before moving away.
"Uh. Nickâ€"oh, my head.... Nick. Sorry," Grissom slurred, the effort to move his hand exhausting him. He dropped it back and looked down at Nick's trembling body.
When he felt the hand move off him, the spell broke. Nick straightened and looked down at Gil. He saw the blue eyes watching him, flashes of pain brightening them. "It's okay. I'm sorry you ended up hurting yourself even worse."
Gil shut his eyes. He felt dirty, cold, ashamed, and incredibly stupid. Grissom also felt infinitely sad. "Gotâ€"codeine in bathroom. Get me one?" he muttered.
Nick started, then stopped. "You sure? You had a helluva lot of tequila back thereâ€"whoa!"
He saw Gil's body begin to involuntarily lurch, and swiftly helped Grissom sit up in time to avoid vomiting all over his bed. He did, however, vomit all over Nick's pants.
When the shaking subsided Nick settled him back, pulling the pillows up some for him. Gil had broken out in a sweat and tremors ran through his weakened body. He kept his eyes closed.
"I'm so fuckin' sorry, Nick," he said through clenched teeth. The vomiting had made pain flare in his head, ribs, and hand, and he was dizzy with the feeling. Grissom couldn't stop a harsh groan from escaping his lips.
"Gris, come on. It's cool. Justâ€"can you lay there a minute? Let me see what you have in the cabinet, okay? Just don't move." Nick waited until Grissom nodded, then went back into the bathroom.
He found a small selection of half-finished medications, many for muscle relaxants, one for migraines, and two for pain reliefâ€"Tylenol 3 and Vicodin. Nick wondered briefly what injuries Grissom had sustained to get this collection, and shrugged. None of them would really work well with all the alcohol in Gil's body. He grabbed up a bottle of ibuprofen and ran a glass of water before going back in to Gil's bedroom.
Grissom refused to open his eyesâ€"he couldn't see the disgust in Nick's eyes he was sure was there. He felt Nick touch his shoulder lightly.
"Gris? I'm sorry, manâ€"none of the good stuff is good with alcohol. I got you some Advil. I know it won't do much, butâ€"well," Nick finished with a shrug.
Gil opened his eyes slowly. He could see and smell the alcohol vomit on Nick and is made him furious with himself. "Iâ€"thanks. If you could help me up I'll take them and then I need a shower." Grissom actually got his body an inch off the bed before collapsing back. "Fuckin' hell," he said angrily.
Nick set the medication down and carefully, slowly, sat Grissom up. He knelt next to the bed and supported the older man until Grissom felt able to open his eyes and focus. "Wanna go slow there, boss," Nick said with a smile. He was trying to make Gil more comfortable in what Nick knew had to be a damn awkward situation for Grissom.
"Yeah. Shit," Gil breathed. He forced himself to look at Nick. "Thanks, Nicky. I'm so sorry for everything. Andâ€"your pants," he said, looking down briefly. Nick laughed.
"Gris, jeans're a dime a dozen. No sweat. Lookâ€"I have an idea. You must feel like hell, but I don't think you're gonna be able to stand up in the shower. How about I run you a bath and you can sit for a little? That arm is gonna hurt like hell for a while, a little warm water won't hurt it. Or your ribsâ€"sorry about doing that," Nick apologized.
Grissom looked down stupidly, noticing finally that his shirt was open. "Ohâ€"I deserved it. Had no right to try to fight you for my damn keys."
"Well, tequila gives us all special rights."
"Not to be assholes, it doesn't," Grissom muttered, startled when Nick laughed.
"Hell, being an asshole ain't a special rightâ€"it's the natural right of every red-blooded American male, Gris!"
That made Gil smile, and pleased Nick. "I guess. Nick, you don't need to hang around, in a couple of hours I'll be able to get up andâ€""
"Bull. I don't have to work for about nine hours yet, I got the time. Why don't I lay you back down, you take some Advil, and I'll run the bath for you. You like bubbles?" he smiled as he lay Grissom back down.
"Sure. Mr. Bubble under the sink," Grissom said as he gritted his teeth at the motion. He tried to relax into the bed and waved off the water glass Nick held out as he dry-swallowed four tablets.
"Okay, lie here. Won't be a minute," Nick said.
Grissom closed his eyes as he heard Nick bustle around, then water running. He heard Nick call out "You really do have Mr. Bubble!" in a musical, laughing voice, and closed his eyes. He was still embarrassed but Nick's sheer presence made him feel a little better-- *maybe it's being around someone so young, so strong, and so not perceived as the perfect thinking machine,* Grissom thought, and the idea brought sadness back.
Nick came back in and was about to tease Grissom for having the kids' bubble bath when he saw tears on Grissom's face. The sight dropped his heart and Nick moved over and sat next to the older CSI. "Gris?" he asked softly, touching the man's shoulder lightly.
"Don't," Gil said quietly. "Don't touch me."
Nick paled. *Oh man, I've crossed some line even farther down than the ones I've already crossed tonight,* he thought wildly. "Ohâ€"oh, I'm sorry. Canâ€"is there anything I can do?" Nick felt himself suddenly at a loss.
Grissom felt the man's presence stiffen, and sighed. "Noâ€"Nick, no. It's not you, it's me. Iâ€"I'm not doing well today," Grissom said with a harsh laugh. He opened his eyes. "I'm really not coping well right now," he said.
Nick's eyes widened at the naked pain in Grissom's blue eyes, and the tears that fell unchecked. "Gilâ€"Grissom, hey, man, it's okay. Hard day. Come onâ€"don't waste the water. Let me help you. And then, soon's you're back in bed, I'll bug out of here. Not a problem."
Gil tried to smile. "Nicky. You're really nice. I'm sorry I puked on you," he said, trying to struggle out of the hole he felt himself in. Grissom was glad when Nick reached out a hesitant hand and slipped it behind his back, helping him sit up again.
"Heyâ€"like I said, dime a dozen. Come on. Sit up? Good. Now. I'm going to turn you toward me, and I want you to try and relax when I help you standâ€"that one arm's gonna hurt. Okay?"
Gil nodded, and Nick turned him, then he shut his eyes as Nick lifted him to his feet with hands under his arms. A gasp of pain burst out of Grissom but thenâ€"he was standing. He felt nearly boneless, and Nick knew itâ€"he immediately stepped next to Grissom and put Grissom's right arm over his shoulders, Nick's left arm around Grissom's waist.
"Ohâ€"okay. All right. That was fun," Nick said. Grissom opened his eyes and looked at his CSI. The deep brown eyes were full of care and Grissom couldn't help smiling.
"For you, maybe," Grissom said. "Oh Nickâ€"I meant to sayâ€"I have jeans you can wear if you likeâ€"get out of those," Gil said, moving aching head in the general direction of his closet.
"Later. Let's get you into the bath, okay?"
Nick moved him slowly into the bathroom, Gil dragging his feet, and leaned the man against the sink. He made sure Grissom was able to stand on his own before whipping his own shirt off. "Don't wanna get too soaked," he explained, and then proceeded to undress Grissom.
Gil's eyes widened at Nick's body, tan and perfectly muscled without being obnoxious. He felt himself stiffen, then relax as he realized Nick's hands were gentle and careful.
For his part, Nick felt as if he was about to come in his pantsâ€"his boss in pain wasn't sexy but the way his body reacted by relaxing into his hands made Nick weak with desire. He slid the shirt down Grissom's arms carefully, noting each little muscular twitch and the smooth curve of bicep, then forced himself not to look up--*what are you gonna see, Nick, Gil moaning with lust for you?* he thought wryly-- as he carefully unbuttoned and unzipped Grissom's dark pants.
Gil *wasn't* looking down at Nickâ€"he'd closed his eyes to prevent sensory overload. He told himself his body wasn't reacting, it wasn't, it wasn't-- *oh God!* he thought as he felt Nick's hands skimming lightly down the front of his thighs as he lowered Gil's pants. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips and Nick looked up quickly.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked. Grissom shook his head.
"Nâ€"no. No."
"All right." Nick's voice was strangledâ€"the angle he was seeing Grissom from was not only unique, it was, for Nick, highly erotic. He shook his head a little, glad Gil wasn't looking at him, and reached up again. He hesitated briefly. "Uh, Gilâ€"do youâ€"I mean, do you want me to take off your, uh, boxers? I mean, you can sit in the tub in them, you knowâ€""
Grissom surprised himself by laughing. "Jesus, Nick. You're halfway to naked, go ahead. I don't think I could get them off by myself, you know." He opened his eyes and looked down at Nick crouched beneath him and caught his breath. "I do appreciate it, Nick. Thanks." And he smiled.
Nick felt his heart drop, rebound, and come to rest slightly off kilter. "Uhâ€"it's no problem. I'll justâ€"" And without looking Nick hooked his fingers in the boxer waistband and pulled down. "Lift your footâ€"okay, other oneâ€"there. Ready to roll." And to his disbelief, Nick rose and ignored passing his boss' groin on the way up. He smiled awkwardly at Grissom, newly naked.
"Roll? Limp, maybe." Grissom leaned into Nick as they shifted over to the tub. They managed to get Gil sitting on the edge of the tub, then stopped. "Ummm...."
"I know. Well, if you can hold onto me with your one goodâ€"no, maybe not. Um, how about you turn and get your legs in, and I'll lower you the rest of the way in? That way you won't hit the bottom too hard. Okay?"
Grissom looked at the water and bubbles doubtfully. "Uh, okay. Hereâ€"ow! No, it's okay... whoa, hot water!" Gil hesitantly shifted around so his legs were in the water. "It's pretty hot."
"Sorry. You'll get used to it. Now, I'm gonna slip my hands under your arms and lower you in. It'll hurt your left arm, but then it'll be okay. Ready?" Nick slipped his hands into place and felt Grissom lean against him. He could tell from the man's trembling that Grissom was anticipating pain, and hoped it wouldn't be intense.
"Yeahâ€"yeah, go slow, okay? Ready." Grissom was nervous about the whole thing, Nick the water, the painâ€"but he didn't really see any other way to get clean and feel human again. He gritted his teeth a little and nodded. "Go."
Nick hefted the man a little and very slowly lowered him into the water. Grissom let out a short gasp, but Nick couldn't tell if it was pain or the heat of the water that made him cry out. Nick shuffled around and was behind Grissom when he felt the man's weight off of his hands. He carefully settled Gil's arms down and came back around to the side. "Sorry if that hurt too much. Okay?"
Grissom looked up, taking in the man's tan, smooth chest and the lovely concern in his dark eyes, and nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Nicky. I really mean it."
"It's okay. I'm going to grab a chair and I'll come back with some water and make sure you don't go slipping under the bubbles, okay? Be right back."
Nick took longer than absolutely necessary to gather the chair and a glass of water. He was trying to slow his breathing, wrap his overheated brain around the fact he'd just put his boss, the man of his wet dreams, into a Mr. Bubble bathâ€"and the man was naked. When he felt he was under control, he took everything into the bathroom, braced, he thought, for anything.
Except when he came in, Grissom was wearing a bubble beard.
************