Work Text:
-------
It seemed hopeless now. A lost cause. To hear Nick's screams, lost and terrified before he woke and recognized his surroundings, where he was. Grissom's bedroom, healed, protected and alone.
Well, not really alone. Gil was there, arms crossed loosely over his hastily donned tshirt and open robe, leaning against the frame of the open door; close enough to reassure, far enough away not to threaten. There but not an immediate presence. Not until Nick knew and was aware enough to recognize the solid, shadow form in his borrowed room.
He wanted to ease down by his side, to carefully touch the wet cheeks, soothing the tears away with a comforting caress. Now, as once or twice in the past, the intense longing to commit to that touch and more seized Gil Grissom, urging him from his lone and solitary post guarding Nick's door.
Ever since Nick had come to him and confessed to being abused as a child, admitting only reluctantly to renewed nightmares, Gil had wanted to hold the younger man. Wrap his arms around him and cuddle him close; surround him with comfort and desire.
And as always, he resisted that urge, but just barely. The lost look screaming out of those dark puppy eyes reached into his chest and grabbed his heart, calling him to hold and comfort; begging him to make the monsters go away.
But now the moment was gone and Nick was truly awake, blinking into the light, edging up on both elbows to ask softly in leftover confusion, "Gris?"
"It's alright, Nick," Grissom told him, keeping his voice calm and soothing, normal. "You had a bad dream. I just wanted to check on you." He allowed himself one last look before softly calling, "Good night."
"K. G'night."
With what he hoped was a reassuring nod, Gil turned to go. Back to the couch in his office. Back to his own dreams, lonely and lacking as they were.
"Gris?"
"Yes, Nick?"
"Hold me?"