Work Text:
South
By YS McCool
Chapter One. Setting Boundaries.
Greg Sanders stared at the questionnaire on the computer screen and grinned. He got why they wanted his neck and shoe size, waist, hip, and chest measurements, plus height, and weight, because they were going to be issued official Silver Lakes Crime Lab coveralls, boots, and other gear, but the long section about his eating preferences rang the "recruiting" gong in the back of his head. They might pass it off as 'Southern Hospitality', but Sanders was not fooled.
SLCL had positions to fill and the people filling them had to meet very strict experience and educational guidelines. His contacts had told him that Rayburn had already successfully lifted personnel from LA, DC, and New York. Las Vegas was next on her radar. The rumor mill insisted that Rayburn had been threatened with death by the crime lab's director if she tried her luck in Miami.
Greg typed in the information and brought up the next page. It asked for the expected things such as preferred shift and courses he'd like to offer, but he was almost thrown by "preferred introduction music". He hit the question mark beside the field.
Think of this as your "heroic music". It
will be played while you're being introduced
to the students at Silver Lakes University.
That sounded cool and he chose "Madman with a Microscope" by Lydia Hipp, a Silver Lakes native. It was about a 'not that mad' scientist revealing the truth about his cheating girlfriend and Greg almost fit the physical description in the lyrics. He strummed his air guitar, Lady G, who was always in tune and ready to wail.
Every secret you have is written in your cells
Every sin you've committed I will reveal
I'm a madman with a microscope and you're on my slide
Besides, the driving bass line and powerful guitar riffs were enough to get him hard.
Speaking of getting him hard, Warrick was easing into the lab, sexy smile at the ready, and swabs held in front of him like a shield. Sanders blamed Brown's more protective physical stance with him on Nick, the jealous greedy bastard. There was more than enough of Warrick to be spread around; preferably spread around Greg's best sheets.
"Hi, Greg. More samples, I'm afraid," Warrick said apologetically. He glanced at Greg's screen. "I've already sent my questionnaire in. That had to be the most original form I've ever had to work with."
"Lucky you," Sanders responded. "It seems every time I get started on it, more work arrives." He eyed the tray Warrick placed beside him. "Like now."
"Sorry, Greg," Warrick said softly, "but crime never stops."
Sanders twirled his chair toward the taller man. "Speaking of crimes, it would be a crime if you didn't go to see Tina Turner with me."
"You've got tickets?" Warrick asked, sounding impressed. "Man, who did you have to kill? Don't worry, I won't turn you in."
Sanders grinned. "I called in some favors and I have two premium tickets," he said casually. Greg didn't want to tell the man exactly what he'd done to secure the tickets. Sanders pulled them out of his wallet and waved them under the taller man's nose like expensive chocolates.
"Are you sure you don't want to take one of your many ladies instead?" Warrick asked, his eyes tracking the tickets.
"Warrick, there is no one I'd rather have on my arm than you to see Tina," Greg assured the other man as he moved closer.
Warrick's face shut down. "Greg, as much as I'd like to go to the concert, if you're thinking of this as a date, then I can't encourage that. I'm not the player everyone seems to think I am."
Mister Fucking Perfect, also known as Nicholas Stokes, had struck again and he wasn't even in the building. Sanders bit down on the bitterness rising in his throat. "It's not a date, Rick, it's a concert."
A concert where the excitement of the performance would have been eclipsed later by the passion in the bedroom. Greg would have thrown his legs wide for Warrick and taken every inch the man had to offer. He would have crawled in to work the next shift with his body marked by his surrender to the larger man.
"I --" Warrick began.
"There you are," Stokes declared as he swaggered in. He waved an envelope. "I have tickets to Tina Turner's 'Last, I'm not kidding; Really, I'm not' Concert Tour. We'll be so close she could sweat on us."
"Tina does not sweat, Nick, she glows," Warrick corrected. "Greg also has tickets."
Nick crossed his arms and made sure Greg noted the muscles there. "Which of your many conquests were you going to take with you?"
"I wanted Warrick to go with me," Greg answered. He placed his hand on Brown's arm. "He and I are almost soul brothers when it comes to music."
"Really?" Nick tugged Warrick toward him. "Well, Warrick and I are much closer than that."
Greg tugged Warrick back toward him. "He'd much rather attend the concert with someone who is a true fan of Tina."
Nick pulled Warrick back hard, plastering the taller man against him. "I love me some Tina."
Greg tried in vain to pull Warrick back one more time.
"Greg, you're about to tear my clothes," Warrick warned, his voice oddly calm. Did nothing unsettle Brown?
"No one tears this man's clothes but me," Nick hissed, his good guy mask broken at last. "Back off, Greg." A vein rose on Stokes's forehead that made Greg think about escape routes, hand-to-hand combat, and his living will. He released Warrick.
And there it was. The closest either man had come to admitting they were hitting the boards together. The visual image was instantly burned onto Greg's retinas where it could not be dislodged. The scene was hard, it was hot, and it was painful to think of Warrick with a man who was not Greg Sanders.
"I have work to do and a questionnaire to complete," Greg said flatly. He turned back to his screen.
"Greg --" Warrick began.
"I'm working here," Greg interrupted. The two other men left without another word. Sanders returned the tickets back to his wallet. There were literally one hundred people he could take with him, but the only one he really wanted to take with him had left with Stokes.
. . . .
"Were you about to agree to go to a concert with Greg 'Let Me Paw You' Sanders?" Nick asked, his voice still rough with testosterone.
Warrick wasn't going to lie. "If you'd walked in just a minute later, I would have told him that I'd go with him. You missed the part where I told him I wouldn't go if he thought it was a date. I wouldn't play him like that," Brown insisted. "Not even for Tina Turner."
"Man, that guy is asking for it," Nick said between gritted teeth.
"But he's not getting it, Nicky," Warrick assured his dangerous and possessive lover. "Now calm down." He leaned closer. "Or do I need to put you across my lap and spank your gorgeous bottom until it is as red as your cheeks are right now?" he asked, letting his lips almost touch Nick's forehead. Brown knew how much the smaller man loved to feel Warrick's breath on him and the more public the occasion, the hotter Nick was for the fucking later.
"I do not have a spanking kink, Warrick," Nick insisted a little too loudly.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Catherine quipped as she walked into the break area. "I had plans. Big plans. Haughty and naughty plans. I was going to have to ice my arm like a major league pitcher." She pouted. "How about you, Warrick? Make my day, big man."
"Only if I'm giving," Warrick answered, his voice dropping low on its own, "and you have to wear those wicked black high-heeled sandals with the rhinestones." Catherine had wickedly great legs and an ass for the ages. If she really would allow a spanking, Warrick would have been the first to volunteer.
Catherine looked surprised. "You've noticed my shoes?"
"My list of kinks is very long, Catherine," Brown confessed. "I'm an ass man, a breast man, and I have a thing for women in high heels, no stockings, with polished toenails." Warrick waffled his shirt at the collar to release the steam. "That barely scratches the surface of the door to my enormous kink closet," he added. "Don't make me talk about my love of women who run their nails down my back -- sweaty skin, nails scraping along, and the sensation that twists pain and pleasure together so tightly just makes me ache. I'm a bad boy."
"Is anyone else hot?" Catherine asked, fanning her face.
"Everyone in this room is hot," Grissom declared as he walked into the break room. "Hot on the trail of criminals." He held out a slip. "Warrick and Nick, I have a Humvee in the fountains at the Golden Sands with two dead bodies in the backseat."
Warrick snagged the paper before Nick could. "There's something you don't see everyday."
"Catherine, I need to speak to you," Grissom continued.
Brown looked back over his shoulder before he left the break room. Grissom gave him a little wink. "I think he's going to tell Catherine about us," he whispered to Nick.
"There's a conversation I'd love to hear," Nick quipped. The two men headed out.
. . . .
Grissom led Catherine to his office and closed the door. His bass sang out a few bars, then quieted.
"I see that you've pulled out of the Silver Lakes training trip. Can I ask why?" he inquired.
"My sister was supposed to watch Lindsey while I was gone, but now she has a conflict and can't keep her longer than two weeks," Catherine explained. "I don't want to cheat them out of the full three weeks of training. Silver Lakes is really counting on this opportunity."
Gil had a seat. "Doctor Rayburn made it plain that you were one of the reasons the team was selected." He frowned. Losing Catherine was not an option. "Lindsey will be out of school. Is there any chance she could come with us?"
"Gil, we'll be staying in Rayburn's home. Don't you think she'd notice the extra person, no matter how small?" Catherine asked.
Grissom held up his hands to ward off any further protests. "Catherine, it can't hurt to ask. Doctor Rayburn is far more likely to be insulted that you weren't bringing Lindsey with you in the first place. She has a different mindset than we do." He placed his hand on the phone. "Let's call her."
"It's a waste of time, Gil," Catherine insisted, but she accepted the phone, checked the number on the notebook Gil held toward her, and dialed. "She's probably going to kill me for calling her this late."
"I doubt it," Grissom responded.
"Doctor Rayburn, it's Catherine Willows. Yes, I did. You see my sister was supposed to watch my daughter but --" She paused and listened. "We wouldn't want to be a burden and you've been so nice already by allowing the entire group to stay in your home." Another pause. "You've arranged a sitter and a playgroup?" Again she paused. "Oh, she'd love that, Elaine. Okay, so we'll both be there. We'll do her questionnaire right away. Thank you so much."
Catherine put the phone down. "You called it, Gil. She was expecting me to bring Lindsey all along. Just like she was expecting Al to bring his wife Sonya. She's even fixed up a third-story bedroom that has a balcony so Lindsey can play princess."
"Good, that's resolved. I'll add her name to the passenger list." Their team was arriving via an Ivory Towers company plane, along with lab equipment and field gear. Part of the team's duty was to train the SLCL staff on using that equipment.
Gil wasn't looking forward to the next part, but it had to be done. "Catherine, I've scheduled myself for some surgery and I'll be taking two weeks of sick leave. You'll be in charge of the graveyard shift while I'm gone."
Catherine frowned. "What's wrong?" she asked. Her expression was tight and concerned.
"I have Otosclerosis, also known as 'stapes fixation', where the bones of my inner ear are being fixed in place by extra bone growth. The condition is hereditary in my case and my mother went completely deaf from it. Warrick has talked me into having the surgery now rather than waiting." 'Let it slip past her,' he silently begged. Gil had not meant to mention Warrick by name.
"Is it dangerous?" Catherine inquired. Her expression was schooled. Gil had seen it many times when extra calm was needed in an emotional situation.
"Not as dangerous as doing nothing," he answered. Good, he'd dodged the bullet. His friend was concentrating on his health and not on his slip of the tongue.
"How long is the recovery?" she asked, leaning forward with concern clear in her eyes.
"Just a week but I'm taking off a second week to be safe. It also means that I can't fly to Silver Lakes and Nick and Warrick have agreed to drive there with me." Gil hoped he projected an air of casualness.
Catherine arched an eyebrow. "Is that going to bother you to have them in the car with you for three days?" she asked.
"Because they're a couple?" Gil asked, ready to look offended. He knew people considered him a hopeless stiff, but he'd thought that Catherine knew he was not prejudiced when it came to same-sex couples.
"Because you wanted them both, and now they're together," Catherine corrected.
"Why should it bother me?" Gil huffed. Damn the woman and her insight. How had she known? How long had she known? How much longer did they have before she realized Gil was loving both men?
He pushed Brutus's cage closer to Catherine in hopes of the large bug frightening her away. It didn't work. Catherine could be quite tenacious.
"Oh. My. God," she moaned. "You smirking, smiling bastard. Which one? Do they know? Of course they know, what am I thinking?" she asked herself. "That is just so wicked. Which one are you sending back and forth? Do you even let him bathe between bouts? I bet he smells good with the other guy's scent mixed with his. Jesus, do the three of you share a bed and feast on the guy in the middle?"
Gil was almost enjoying this little monologue. His ego would have loved to admit that he was the man in the middle, but once you crossed that line there was no going back. "I don't think this is an appropriate conversation."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "If I had one of them I'd be on the roof doing the happy dance, which equates to you buying new underwear."
Ow. Gil winced. He had bought all new underwear, but that was to be more sexy for his guys. "I think my work life and private life should remain separate."
"Gil, you don't get it." Catherine took his hand. "You're not talking to your second-in-command, you're talking to your friend. Your friend who is worried about you facing an operation alone. Your friend who thinks over one thousand miles with two men you want so badly but can't touch is about two thousand miles too long unless one of them is also making you happy. Make your friend feel better about that."
"Both of them are very kind to me," Gil offered.
"Kind as in helping you drive to Arkansas because your ears can't take the change in pressure or as in almost pulling your hair out by the roots in passion while you're making them cum?" Catherine asked, seeking clarification.
Gil smoothed his hair back, noted that his hands were shaking, and stilled them. "Both," he admitted.
"Well, hot damn," Catherine stated. "You are the man, Gilbert Grissom. I symbolically snap my garters in your honor." She placed her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her palms. "Now, what are you going to do about Sara?"
==========================
Sara was furious that she had not been told that Grissom was going in for surgery until she noticed he had not come in for his shift. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she demanded of Catherine.
Catherine didn't even blink. "Because he didn't want people making a fuss over it," she answered, trying to sound reasonable. "I need you to get your questionnaire in before you leave tonight."
Sara groaned. She'd forgotten about the thing. "Rayburn must run a tight ship if she needs all of that information."
"She's trying to impress us so we'll flee the evil city of Las Vegas and come and work for her," Catherine explained. "She's offering equivalent pay, better housing, Federal positions with Federal benefits, and regional jurisdiction."
It would take more than that to get Sara to work in that little 'dip in the road' city. Besides, she and Rayburn would butt heads far too often. "And all she wants to know is our food preferences, allergies, preferred shift, and clothing sizes."
"And don't forget your heroic music," Catherine added.
"What did you pick?" Sara asked, almost expecting "The Stripper" as no one in Silver Lakes would get it.
"Lydia Hipp's 'Busted'," Catherine answered. "Greg turned me on to it and I have to admit it's totally rock and roll."
Sara hummed the song and retrieved the lyrics.
Did you seriously think I'd let you get away with it?
Did you pray I wouldn't find out?
Did you think all of your tricks were good enough to save your sorry ass this time?
Did you dream you wouldn't be busted?
Sidle should have grabbed that one, but she couldn't use it now that Catherine had claimed it as her own. "Do you know what everyone else is using?"
"Grissom's got 'A Little Help from My Friends' by Joe Cocker. Warrick is using Usher's 'Yeah'. Nick chose 'Life in the Fast Lane' by The Eagles. Greg selected 'Madman with a Microscope' by Lydia Hipp. Jim surprised me with Josh Dillon's 'Night Detective'. Archie is pushing The Police's 'Every Breath You Take', which proves to me that song was about stalking. Doc has decided on Chicago's '(I've Been) Searching for so Long'. Bobby's rolling out Enrique Estevez's 'Empty Chamber'." Catherine smiled. "We're pretty diverse. Have you got one yet?"
Sara shook her head. "I mostly enjoy instrumentals. It's hard to get your meaning across with one of them."
Catherine shook her head. "What about 'Seeker of Light' or 'Supernova' by The Wayward Girls?"
Sara almost blushed. Catherine thought 'Supernova' and Sara Sidle could co-exist? It was quite a compliment. "I think 'Supernova' might be the one for me."
"Good, that only leaves you about ninety questions to go." Catherine headed toward Grissom's office, which immediately reminded Sara she was mad.
"Which hospital is he in?" Sidle inquired.
"Desert Palms and he needs total quiet," Catherine said firmly. "Leave him alone, Sara. You know how private the man is."
Sara crossed her arms, ready to dig in. "I bet Warrick and Nick are invited. I noticed that they are driving to Silver Lakes with Grissom."
Catherine sat down at Grissom's desk and carefully eased the cage with the giant beetle toward herself. She shivered. "That thing just looks evil."
"Catherine, we're talking about Grissom," Sara reminded the other woman.
"No, you're talking about Grissom," Catherine corrected. "And talking and talking and talking. Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you sleeping with a handsome young stud who calls you every day? Why are you obsessing over another man?"
Sara almost jumped. "I'm just taking an interest in a colleague, Catherine. Derrick has nothing to do with Grissom."
"And Grissom has nothing to do with you, Sara." Catherine pulled a rotting bit of orange out of a plastic tub with tongs, opened the beetle's cage, tossed in the fruit, and quickly closed the door. The bug scurried over to the food and began to eat it. "I so want to call Orkin."
"Catherine, you've got it all wrong," Sara insisted, not letting the bug derail the conversation.
Catherine gave Sara a very tired look. "Sara, Gil Grissom thinks of himself as your mentor, your boss, and your friend, but that's as far as it goes. If it were different, don't you think he would have told you he was going into the hospital and why?"
"You said he was private," Sara explained.
Catherine closed the tub of soggy fruit. "Sara, take this as coming from a friend. He's not interested. Not at all. You have a man. Take him and leave Gil alone."
Sara turned and stalked out. Catherine could be so infuriating when she thought she was right. Sara was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly ran poor Archie Johnson and Greg Sanders over. The two young men were caught up in a hug. "Well?" she droned.
"Greg's taking me to see Tina Turner," Archie gushed. "What a pal." He turned back to Greg. "You have got to let me make you dinner before we go."
"Will it be authentic Japanese cuisine?" Greg asked in a teasing manner.
"Sorry, Greg, there is nothing authentically Japanese in my apartment, including me," Archie declared. "Would you settle for Italian? I do some great Mediterranean style dishes."
"Love it," Greg declared.
Sara slipped on past without looking back. She thought Turner was overrated and far too old to still think of herself as a rock queen. Why would anyone part with the kind of money those tickets were going for?
She found Nick carefully trying to piece a rifle back together because someone had decided that if they sawed it apart and left the pieces sticking out of their trashcan, they wouldn't get caught. It was amazing how dumb people could be. "How's it going?" she asked, genuinely interested.
"I lifted some excellent prints off the pieces and now I just need to show that all of these pieces go together," Nick answered without looking up. "How are your baking soda tests going?"
The cops had busted a kid for selling baking soda as cocaine to his elementary school friends. Sara had the great joy of getting samples from every bag into Trace. "Finished," she reported. "Did you know that Grissom was going into the hospital before yesterday?" That was when it was announced Grissom was driving and not flying to Silver Lakes.
"Yes, I did," Nick answered, without elaborating.
"Why would he tell you?" she asked, confused.
"Because he needed to drive to Silver Lakes and I'm very familiar with the trip," Nick answered. "Remember that I drove here from Dallas with all of my stuff."
"Did he tell you not to tell anyone else?" Sara inquired, ready to get even angrier if there had been no order to exclude her.
"No, but he didn't need to, Sara," Nick said testily. "The man doesn't like for people to know he's got a cold. He certainly wouldn't want it spread far and wide that he had to have surgery."
"Maybe he wants visitors," Sara suggested.
Nick looked up and stared. "Sara, have you been drinking?" he asked. "Grissom would put a deadly assassin to guarding his door if he could afford it. He needs quiet and he doesn't want visitors. He's not even reading email."
"Not that he ever does," Sara commented. "I just don't understand why I wasn't told he was going into the hospital and why?"
Nick tilted his head to the side. "When did you and Grissom start seeing each other? Does Derrick know?" he asked, sounding serious. "Or were you promoted to being his supervisor?"
"That's not fair, Nick," Sara complained. "I should have been told."
"Why?" Nick asked. He was no longer paying attention to the disassembled rifle. His dark eyes were focused totally on Sara.
She didn't have the perfect answer and only the perfect answer was going to get that look off of Nick's face. "I wanted to know."
Nick bent back over his rifle. "I wanted to know the numbers to the Big Lotto before it was drawn, but no one told me that either."
Sara left before she said something stupid. She'd never expected Nick to be so mean. She was fuming. Didn't anyone get it? She was concerned about Grissom. She needed to see him and make sure he was alright. He couldn't have been that determined to be alone.
A quick call to the Desert Palms let her know that Grissom was unable to take phone calls and that he had a strict visitor's list. Sara had to wait until almost three hours after the shift ended because she had forgotten about the stupid questionnaire yet again and Catherine told her she couldn't go home until she'd completed and emailed the thing to Rayburn. By the time she'd finished it, the sun was fully up and normal people could be seen visiting their loved ones at the hospital.
Sidle found Grissom's room and was stopped from going in by a male nurse only slightly smaller than a professional wrestler. If he shaved his head and grew some unnecessary facial hair, the man would have been on his way to a lucrative career. They could call him "The Big Pink Doorstop".
"Name and ID," the nurse demanded.
Sara held up her ID. "Sara Sidle, I work with Gil Grissom."
The nurse looked at his clipboard, but Sara could see that the list was so short that he needn't have bothered. Her name was not there. "You're not on the list."
The names that were there caused her to grit her teeth.
Catherine Willows. Expected.
Warrick Brown. Grissom's favorite, and again expected.
Jim Brass. Why not?
Al Robbins. Sure, they were close friends.
Sonya Robbins. Al's wife, they were a packaged deal.
Nick Stokes. Was that a typo? Oh yeah, the driver.
Doctor Henry Dayton. Grissom's old friend.
Renata Hill. Who the hell was that?
Renata Hill? Was she the reason Grissom had been "I've got a juicy, sexy secret" smiling for months now? Was this the mysterious lover who had kept Grissom from making a move toward her all this time? Now the competition finally had a name. A name Catherine must have known. No wonder the woman had practically told Sara the Grissom ship had sailed without Sara.
Sara passed a get well card to the frowning nurse. "Just give him this."
"Sure," the nurse responded as he accepted the card.
"Has Renata been here today?" Sara asked casually.
The big man smiled. "You know it," he responded as if her memory was causing his pants to get tight. "She's a very faithful visitor. The lucky bastard."
Sara smiled and walked away. Renata Hill? The name didn't sound too intimidating. At least it wasn't Renata Grissom, not yet anyway.
==========================
Gil's ear protection itched, his arms ached from all of the IVs he'd endured, his stomach was in misery, and he hadn't been fucked in days. Anyone crossing his path today would be lucky to get away with their life. Nothing was going to cheer him up. Nothing at all.
The door to his room opened, but instead of a nurse to wheel him out to the sidewalk, it was Nick Stokes.
Okay, things were looking up.
"Hi, Gil," Nick signed. "Warrick with truck, front, dump now, wheels, go." The man had maybe another three sentences in his hands before he would give up and write Grissom a note, but Gil loved that the guy tried.
Grissom interpreted that rather cryptic sentence to mean that Warrick was waiting at patient loading in the truck and Nick was here to wheel Gil out to the front. That or he'd finally decided to take Grissom out to the desert so he could have Warrick all to himself. "Thanks," he signed back.
Nick smiled and kissed Gil on the forehead. If the other man was up for kissing, there were better places than Gil's forehead for those lips. He accepted a note from Nick.
Gil,
By the time I figure out how to sign this, my
hands will fall off and the sun will have set.
Sara is bent out of shape because she wasn't
told you were going into the hospital and why.
Catherine is running interference, but expect
Sara to do something stupid and obsessive.
Grissom could feel his heart rate rising and not for something fun. Damn, damn, damn. What in the world could the woman see in him? He'd done nothing to encourage her.
Nick massaged Gil's neck. Without speaking, the other man managed to convince Grissom that not only were things going to be alright, Nick was personally going to make them alright.
Gil's doctor slipped into the room, passed Gil a note, and then placed a clipboard in his lap. The note laid out all the things they'd discussed about his care, including the no loud noises, no flying, and taking it easy. He had medications and ear protection he needed to have with him at all times for the next ten days. He signed the release and returned it.
A bag with his possessions, medications, and papers were passed to him and Gil moved to the wheelchair and sat down. Nick gave his hand a quick squeeze before rolling him out of the room.
They took the patient elevator, therefore avoiding cell phones, crying children, and other pain-inducing noises. Emerging in the lobby, Nick confidently rolled Gil to the patient loading area where Warrick waited.
"My eyes have missed you," Warrick signed slowly.
It was a good thing that Gil wasn't the sentimental type or that would have made him teary. He smiled instead and rose with a little wobble out of the wheelchair. Grissom was loaded into the back by Warrick, buckled in by Nick as if he didn't know how, and kissed stealthily by both men. That warm kiss buzz kept him smiling all the way home.
Renata Hill, one of Gil's neighbors and a dear friend, was waiting on them at the townhouse. Renata, a widow, had enrolled herself in a French cooking school and expected Gil to eat her homework. She was going to take care of Gil's place while he was in Silver Lakes, as well as accepting his packages and mail.
Something smelled good and Gil's stomach, which had threatened to go on strike during its three days of torture at the hospital, awakened. Grissom wobbled to the bathroom with Warrick's help, had a shower, did not get molested despite his best butt wiggling attempts, and then was dressed in his new pajamas, and moved back to the dining table where a feast awaited him.
Nick and Renata were furiously passing notes back and forth, which Renata tried to hide when Gil came into the room. He held his hand out and Renata reluctantly handed them over.
Gil read the notes. Sara had called the townhouse, Renata had answered, and Sidle had tried to grill Renata over her relationship with Gil. Renata was willing to be Gil's beard if it would make things easier. Nick wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. In fact, Gil would guess that this kind of lying would eat at the younger man fairly quickly.
"Your decision," Nick spelled out. "Always make yourself comfortable."
Gil didn't want Sara to know his shoe size, why would he tell her who he was sleeping with? Unless it directly impacted their work, he saw no reason to share anything about himself. "It's none of her business," Gil signed. "Now, what about lunch?"
It was the quietest meal he'd ever shared with his friends. Gil thought back to the first time Renata had met Nick and Warrick.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Grissom was nibbling on Nick's neck and squeezing the younger man's ass when the doorbell rang.
"Gil, it's heavy and hot," Renata called from outside.
"Can she see through the door?" Warrick inquired, his face caught in an evil grin.
Gil released Nick after placing a kiss on his lips. "That's Renata," he explained before opening the door.
Renata Hill had probably saved Gil from a broken nose the first time they met. Grissom had been shopping at a local grocery store when a man caught his attention. Or, rather, his shirt caught Gil's attention. On it was a hand drawn picture of a very rare jumping spider.
"Eyes back in your head, buddy," a thick-necked, possible caveman ordered.
Gil was startled. "Oh, it was his shirt,"
Grissom tried to explain. "I was trying to guess
the species. It's a jumping spider, the family Salticidae, but that's no good because there are
over 4000 recognized species in that family. I
was thinking it could be a South American variety,
the Red Moss Spider, but I'm fairly sure they're extinct --"
"Do I look stupid to you?" Thick-neck asked. "I
saw you making eyes at my man."
"Darling, there you are," Renata said as she moved
up to stand beside Gil. "Not another bug shirt,"
she groaned. Renata shook her head sadly. "Entomologists are easily distracted by anything vaguely bug-related," she explained to the two
young men. "Not many women start their married
lives with a husband wearing Spiderman pajamas."
"At least they didn't have feet in them," Gil
quipped.
"I saw this spider in Bolivia," the guy in the
shirt explained. "I thought it was beautiful."
He ran his hand across the illustration. "It
looks pretty deadly, but it's probably harmless."
"Not really. Jumping spiders are predators.
They eat insects and even other spiders," Gil explained.
"Wow," the t-shirt wearer replied, looking at
his creation with new appreciation.
"Come on, Eddie," Thick-neck encouraged, still
casting suspicious eyes at Grissom.
"How did you know I was an entomologist?" Gil
asked the strange woman.
"Because everyone else would have said 'scary
spider' and run away," she answered. She held
out her hand. "Renata Hill."
"Gil Grissom," Gil responded, shaking her hand.
"How long have we been married?"
"Who's counting?" she answered. "Besides, we
will always be on our honeymoon."
They'd dated for a bit, but Gil's single-minded devotion to his job had ruined it. Despite his many failings, they'd managed to remain friends.
When Renata stepped through the door, Nick and Rick saw a petite woman with long black hair, dark eyes, and the Mediterranean complexion you would expect for someone born in Venice. Both of them gave Gil the "you never said she was beautiful" look before helping her inside.
"Oh, you must be Warrick and Nicholas," Renata gushed. "Gil never said you were so handsome."
"He wouldn't," Nick assured her. "He also failed to mention how stunning you are." Gil got a second dose of the evil eye, though he couldn't imagine why he was getting it. It wasn't Gil's fault he was surrounded by so much beauty.
"Renata Hill, this is Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes," Grissom introduced. "How is your cooking class going?"
"You will tell me," Renata replied. "It is a souffle." She uncovered her latest creation from her cooking class.
"Good height," Gil declared as he placed dishes on the table. Warrick helped serve.
It had been all so innocent. They were talking about Venice and Renata's recent trip there to see family and friends. Nick was smiling and laughing but there was this tiny dab of cheese on his cheek. A thinking man would have told Nick to wipe it off. A semi-thinking man would have used his own napkin to remove the offending cheese. The sex-crazed idiot part of Gil Grissom licked it off.
A move like that clearly stated Grissom wanted Renata to know about them. They still could have been saved if Nick had reacted like your typical heterosexual male and leapt away from the table before bashing Grissom over the head with something of lethal weight. Instead the man had said... "Thanks, babe."
Warrick started to laugh. He fought it, but he was laughing. He started humming Josh Dillon's "(It Looks like I'm) Out of the Closet", which strangely wasn't about being gay but about liking nice things, and Renata giggled.
"Would anyone like to try some raspberry torte for dessert?" Renata offered.
"What part of Nick are you going to smear it on, Gil?" Warrick asked, his eyes absolutely dancing with joy at Grissom's predicament.
"I could spread it on your ass because I know you'd love it, Rick," Gil responded. He kissed the big man hard and possessively and Brown's nipples made little hills against his tight shirt. Warrick did not get to play straight in front of Renata when Gil and Nick had outed themselves.
And he'd accused Warrick of adhering to antiquated schoolyard rules. Yet, Gil was very satisfied to have put Mister Cool in his place.
"Count me in," Nick said as he licked his lips at Warrick, who had begun to blush.
"If you spread it on his chest I could have some," Renata stated. "Having it on his bottom is too close to cheating, but his chest is almost pure."
"I like you, Renata." Warrick began to laugh in earnest.
They did end up placing that torte on Warrick's chest and spoon-feeding the man. When some of it slid down to his stomach, Renata left because her "willpower would hold up no longer that close to cheating".
~~~~~~~~~~~
Now Renata was ready to protect them from Sara after filling his refrigerator with gourmet food. Gil didn't deserve a friend that loyal. He leaned over and gently kissed her. It was a brotherly peck and taken that way.
"The mountain is conquered even by the smallest steps," she signed. Her English was much better in sign. "I will broom Sara."
Now there was an image. Renata would have to find a chair to pummel the much taller Sara. He had to smile and kiss her hand. "You are very dear," he whispered.
Grissom could talk if he wanted to, but he sounded funny to himself and it put him off. Nick shushed him and Renata placed three fingers over his lips. Warrick lightly swatted Gil's ass, which naturally caught Grissom's attention. Gil so loved being Warrick's "bad boy".
"Sorry," Gil signed.
"You're only sorry your bottom is under clothes," Renata signed.
Gil giggled. He really tried to stop but that was just so funny coming from Renata. Funny and true.
Nick went stern. Gil loved his Nick stern. No laughing and Gil had to take his medications now that he'd had some food. Gil grumbled, which made Warrick baby him and Renata roll her eyes.
They put him to bed and went back into the kitchen to tackle the dishes. Their soft voices drifted back to him like the sweetest music. He was supposed to be relaxing and reading, but his eyes were too teary to see through.
He had no idea how long he sat like that before Warrick's arms surrounded him.
"It's okay, Sugar Bear," he promised softly. "Are you in pain?"
"I nearly let it all go out of fear, Rick," Gil answered before choking up. If Warrick Brown hadn't put his foot down, Grissom would still be trying to hide what was happening to him instead of doing something about it.
Warrick was kissing his face and holding Gil so gently. His large hands massaged Grissom's neck. Gil hadn't cried in a long time but he couldn't stop this time. Warrick just held him tighter.
A second set of arms surrounded him. Strong arms. Arms that by their mere presence swore they would never let him down. They rocked him and held him together. Gil let it all out until he could not manage another tear or sob.
Renata washed his face with a warm cloth and helped tuck him into the bed. Nick stripped down to his briefs and climbed in, while Warrick saw Renata to the door. Gil knew they were kissing at the doorway, but it didn't bother him because Renata was a kisser. She'd grown up that way. Friends and family kissed each other. Gil had always been grateful for that tendency.
Rick returned, slipped out of his clothes and climbed into the bed. He and Nick squeezed Gil between them as they had so many times, but this time Grissom didn't wiggle until he got the cock he wanted and needed. This time he was content to allow his two strong men to protect him from the big bad world. He was safe.
==========================
Catherine must have been losing her mind because she was talking to the big bug as though it were a pet. "Gil must miss you terribly, little guy. Why don't I take you to his place in the morning? Then you can frighten the shit out of Renata when she comes by."
Brutus nibbled on his squishy banana, ignorant of the creepy crawlies he caused.
"No, Gil would kill me if I managed to cut off his fancy meals," she grumbled. "Renata cooks better than I bargain shop."
"Willows, do you know a lady named Renata Hill?" Officer Sikes inquired. He asked from the doorway, not because he feared any bug inside, but because Grissom had banned him.
"Renata is here?" she asked turning away from Brutus.
Sikes grinned. "Oh yeah," he assured her. "Is she... taken?" he asked with the kind of glee normally reserved for large stacks of money.
"Show her in, Sikes," Catherine said impatiently. "This isn't about your love life."
Sikes frowned. "Okay," he agreed. The big cop almost stamped away.
"No matter how big they get, they're still little boys," Catherine noted. The bug had nothing to add to the conversation. Gingerly, she picked up Brutus's cage and placed him on his display shelf.
"Catherine, we have a problem," Renata declared as she strode into the office. Sikes melted away.
"Is Gil alright?" she asked. Renata was a photographer and set her own hours. She worked from home, just a few doors down from Gil, and had promised to look in on him while he was recovering. Besides, Grissom was sure to have a relapse if he had to eat his own cooking.
"He is most upset, and I blame Sara Sidle," Renata declared. "Where is this female?"
Catherine could feel her first migraine coming on with a vengeance. Renata barely made five feet and some of that was high heels. If she passed one hundred pounds, it had to be the humidity clinging to her clothes. Sara was twice the woman's size and Sidle didn't stand a chance against the Italian sub-Bantam weight. "What happened?"
"She called Gil's home and grilled me as if I were some trollop," Renata reported. "I intend to set her straight."
Convinced this "setting straight" might involve either knife or gunplay, Catherine decided to step in before she had to process the scene. "Renata, I will speak to her and make sure she understands --"
"You have already spoken to her. Nicholas tells me this." Renata's hands did an elaborate dance. "Nicholas is too sweet to deal with this woman. Warrick would leave much evidence of her painful demise. Gilbert is helpless. I shall handle this. My people have been rolling our trouble into the sea for generations and Lake Meade is not that far away."
Catherine had a mental image of Renata guiding her gondola along the canals of Venice and dumping a chained, bleeding, and sobbing Sara into the water. Renata would probably sing some old song as she headed away while Sara sank like a stone to the bottom. The woman might actually get away with it.
"I will not have my Gilbert upset," Renata continued.
"Your Gilbert?" Sara inquired from the doorway. Catherine hadn't heard the door open. "Are you Renata?" The tone of dismissal was so evident that Willows knew Sara was as good as dead.
"Yes, I am Renata and you are Sara. I recognize your nasal tones from our unpleasant phone conversation," Renata replied, her hands going to her hips. "You will leave Gil to rest and recover in comfort and not foul his home with your nonsense."
Sara's face set into her normal stubborn lines and instead of taking the opportunity to grovel or at least run, she moved further into the room. "I was checking up on a friend. If you're so insecure that a call from a friend has ruffled your feathers, you might want to step back and take a good look at your relationship."
"Oh, damn," Catherine moaned as the line that cannot be uncrossed was crossed right in front of her.
"Apparently no one here has the balls to tell you what is what, but I do not have this problem, Sara Sidle," Renata promised. "You are an idiot; a stubborn pushy child who is demanding attention simply because you exist and I will not have it. I will see you dead before I allow you to place another tear on that man's cheek." Only a fool would not recognize the deadly earnest in those words and despite some of her actions, Sara Sidle was not a fool.
"Take it easy," Sara said as she started to back up.
Renata moved forward, finger pointing at Sara's heart as if she were practicing putting a bullet there. "Puttana, ti insegne io il significato del dolore. Nessuno turba il mio Gilbert," she declared, her dark eyes going even darker. "Ti strapperò il fegato e te lo serviro come stufato."
Sara backed fully out of the room, hit the opposite wall and then fled down the hall with Renata in close pursuit.
"Torna qui, gru dal collo lungo," Renata declared, racing after Sara. "Torna indietro ed affronta la mia giusta collera."
"Bitch, I will teach you the meaning of pain. No one upsets my Gilbert," Hodges translated for Greg. "I will have your liver and serve it up in a covered dish."
"Stew," Archie corrected. "Come back here, you long-necked crane. Return and face my righteous wrath," he finished.
"How long have you spoken Italian?" Hodges asked, obviously impressed.
"Since I was a kid," Archie answered.
"He's with me," Greg declared as he took Archie's arm and held onto the other man possessively. "We're going to see Tina Turner together."
Catherine didn't get to hear the rest of the no doubt juicy gossip as she took off down the hall to observe most of the staff clinging to the walls. She found the women, with Brass acting as a human shield between Sara and Renata. Jim was going to lose his balls if he didn't move.
"Oh, dear God," Nick gasped as he came up behind Catherine. "Renata, honey, Sara is as sorry as she can be." He placed his arm around the diminutive woman's shoulders. Stokes was seriously brave as Renata was at the perfect height for her knees and elbows to do a lot of damage to a man. "Let's go have some of Greg's good coffee and calm down."
"She must die," Renata declared. "You saw how she upset my Gilbert."
"And eventually she will," Nick soothed, "but not where I have to see it. Please? They'll make us clean it up, Honey, and my stomach isn't up to that. Greg has great coffee and Warrick brought in croissants." He guided the dangerous woman back down the hall.
"What a nutcase," Sara declared from her protected position.
"Sara, God as my witness, I'll never help you again," Jim declared. He turned to glare at the woman. "What the hell did you do to get Renata down here and in such a snit?"
"You know her too?" Sara asked. "Did everyone know about this woman?"
"Man, I just saw Renata and she looks ready to bend steel," Warrick declared. "What's going on?"
"She's going to break Sara's neck and serve her up in a stew for making a move on her man, Grissom," Greg declared as he arrived, his voice steady. "I gave up some of my coffee stash without a whimper to calm her down."
Sikes strode down the hall like he was ready to catch a murderer. "Willows, why didn't you tell me she was with Grissom?" the big cop demanded. "What a woman," he sighed.
"Hello?" Sara called. "That crazy woman threatened me."
Greg, Warrick, Jim, Sikes, and Catherine all turned and stared. As a group they growled in frustration and walked away. Catherine headed back to Gil's office. She'd rather sit with the damn bugs than be anywhere near Sara Sidle. At that moment, she could happily strangle the woman with her bare hands.
==========================
Warrick checked on Gil one more time before he rejoined Renata in the living room. Renata was spending the night with Gil while Nick and Warrick went to the Tina Turner concert. Grissom did not like spending the night alone since his operation. The one night he'd tried, he ended up calling Warrick at work and listening to him, Nick, and Catherine process a scene. Catherine had taken on the paperwork so Warrick and Nick could head immediately to Grissom's place to comfort Warrick's little Sugar Bear.
This sudden switch from fiercely independent to "don't leave me alone" was bothering Warrick. Brown blamed Sara. She'd made Gil worry that she was stalking him.
Gil lined up some silent movies for his DVD while Renata set out her cameras. She was going to complete several black and white studies of Grissom. Warrick had no idea how she'd beaten the man down to get him to agree to model. Nick and Warrick were going to be allowed to pick two poses each for their personal use.
The padded ear protection was gone and Gil was wearing simple hearing aids. He was going to take them off during the shoot.
Warrick pulled Gil into his arms without warning and kissed the man hard. Even though Renata was mere feet away, he couldn't stop his hands from roaming over the older man's body and settling quite naturally on his ass. Brown had spent many happy hours fucking that ass and he loved to caress it. Nick got groped, grabbed, and squeezed, but Gil normally received the much more gentle treatment until they were horizontal. Not tonight. He had his hands on Grissom's ass and he was hanging on tight. Renata began snapping their picture. It didn't make Warrick want to stop.
"If you're still awake when we come home, I'm going to fuck you stupid," Warrick warned. Gil's eyebrows did their little dance of confusion. Warrick had been the one to insist they be gentle with the older man after the operation, now he was promising to bruise him up during a sexual romp that was bound to destroy some furniture. "That's right, baby. I think you've rested enough. I'm so hungry for you right now that I almost bit your lips." Reluctantly, Warrick released the older man. "I better let you go before I do something that is going to make me very, very late." He'd seen headlights and knew Stokes had arrived.
Nick breezed in after using his key. "Ten minutes and ten minutes only, then we're out of here," he declared. He gave Renata a soft peck, Warrick a full kiss, and Gil got bent over, fondled, and kissed with enough suction to lift a stone from the ground. "Ten minutes," he repeated. He gave Gil a starved look. Not hungry, starved. "Nine minutes and counting." He pulled Gil into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them.
Warrick tiptoed over and pressed his ear against the door.
"Nick, oh, Nick. Nick. Damn, damn, damn." Stokes was the man. He had poor Gil cussing in less than a minute. It had to be a record.
Six minutes later, Nick emerged from the bedroom, straightening his clothes. "Gil is going to have a little nap," he announced. "Make sure he has something to eat, Renata. Rick and I both have our cell phones and they're set to vibrate." Stokes grabbed Warrick's hand and started to pull him out of Grissom's townhouse. "Look, we're leaving early."
Warrick couldn't go without one last look at Gil. He eased into the bedroom to find Grissom flat on his back across the bed with his pants and briefs around his ankles and his shirt pushed up to his armpits. He was panting heavily.
Brown removed Gil's shoes, shirt, and pants. "I'll tell Renata that my shots can be of you in the nude," he whispered to the older man. "You're so beautiful. Holding myself back has been torture and, quite frankly, I've run out of restraint." Warrick licked Gil's slightly parted lips and cupped his face. "If I didn't know Nick would pull me out of here by my balls, I'd climb in the saddle right now."
Gil closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Warrick's left hand. "I don't feel so broken down now."
"Broken down?" Warrick asked, shocked. "No, Sugar Bear, you were never broken down just healing." He kissed the older man softly. "You're lucky I love you so much. Otherwise, I'd have made Nick drive so I could fuck you on the way home from the hospital."
Gil grinned. "I can just imagine that traffic stop. No, officer, I'm not killing him. He needs it like that."
Warrick laughed. "Do you think they'd try to print my cock when they hauled me in?"
"Only for their own private collections to fuel their Warrick lust," Gil answered. He kissed Warrick softly. "Go on or Nick will get us both." He let his fingers play in Brown's thick hair. "I love you," he whispered almost as if he weren't allowed to say the words.
"Damn you," Warrick cursed. Gil's face caved in, the shock and horror plain to see. "You're supposed to say that when I have all night to lick 'I love you too, my one and only Sugar Bear', in capital letters, all over your body," he sighed in exasperation. "You've ruined my nefarious scheme and I was really proud to finally have one."
Gil smiled and it was like the sun coming from behind the clouds. "Pretend I didn't say it yet," he suggested.
"Oh, hell no. You don't get to take it back," Warrick informed the older man. "It's been caught by my heart and it won't let go." They kissed again. "See you in a few 'Tina makes me want to fuck' hours."
Grissom's eyebrows shot up. "O-kay," he responded slowly. One more kiss and he released Warrick.
Brown strolled out with one last look over his shoulder at Gil. "I love you," he promised the other man. He stepped out of the room and almost into Nick's arms. "Ready to go, lover boy," he declared. He gripped the smaller man's hand.
Warrick didn't get to reflect on how much his and Nick's thinking had been in sync that night. The concert rocked, Greg and Archie left the concert hall with two women each on their arms, and Gil was sound asleep when they got back to his place.
Grissom had no trouble sleeping alone after that. Brown wasn't sure exactly what the turning point had been. It didn't really matter because they had "their Gil" back.
Renata's photos of Gil were so gorgeous that Nick and Warrick had whined, pleaded, and begged their way to four poses each. She was such a softy.
==========================
Sara was being punished, though it was nothing official. The most loathsome, nasty, and just plain disgusting scenes were hers. Nick, who normally could be counted on to at least try to get along with everyone, wasn't speaking to her.
Their easy friendship had blown up when she'd foolishly started their first post-Renata invasion conversation with "you really didn't need to apologize for me". Things went downhill from there.
Warrick, Mister Easygoing, visually sized her up for a coffin every time they were in the same location. Greg handed over reports without a single word of banter and wouldn't look her in the eyes. Archie avoided her whenever he could. Hodges wouldn't flirt with her. Sikes treated her as if she were worse than an escaped spider. Catherine spoke to her but only about official matters. It was like being dead.
Derrick had dropped her the day after Renata's visit. He didn't want to stand in her way since she was "so in love with another man that she'd take on an enraged Italian for him". Derrick was so dedicated to the idea of not being in her way that he'd transferred to another station and switched shifts.
Most of the patrol officers began to treat her as if she were poison once Derrick was gone. He'd been very popular. More popular than she'd known.
Sidle kept a countdown to Grissom's first official day back on the job. Once he'd spoken to her, she would be forgiven by everyone else. Everyone had to be mad because that crazy Italian woman had said her phone call had upset the man, they couldn't be mad for any other reason.
Balloons, a cake, and a poster from the 1950's movie "Realm of the Ants" waited for Grissom as he strolled in. He seemed genuinely surprised and delighted. Not only was he missed but his return was an event.
Ecklie gave a nice speech, Catherine gave a funny one, and the Greg-Archie-David-Bobby skit of "what Grissom's bugs had to endure while he was away" was so funny that Brass developed hiccups from laughing. Ecklie was wheezing as if he needed an inhaler after Bobby/Brutus Maximus declared "only Ecklie could understand what it was like to be the big magnificent bug trapped in a small mesh cage". Sikes nearly lost it when Greg/Bugsy the Spider declared his desire to "climb up Sikes's leg and hear him scream like a little girl". The big cop had laughed himself red in the face.
It seemed to take forever for the rest of the staff to finally go to work and leave her and Grissom alone.
"I suppose you heard what happened?" she asked after closing the door.
Grissom tented his fingers and gazed at her. "From several sources. Do you want to give me your version?" he asked.
"I went overboard in questioning Renata, which upset her and obviously you, and she came here to kill me. I was rescued by most of the graveyard shift," Sara reported. "Those are the highlights."
"And what are the low-lights?" Grissom inquired.
"No one is talking to me," she reported. "If you'll just officially forgive me, I think this will blow over. Or I could transfer out." Grissom had made it plain he liked having her on his team. Nothing would get him to patch things up faster than her offering to leave.
"If you want to leave, I won't stop you," Grissom announced, shocking Sara into silence. "But if you stay, there are going to have to be some strictly enforced rules of conduct concerning you and me. My time off has made some things crystal clear."
Sara smiled. She knew that time apart would make the man realize how much he wanted her. She didn't even have to wait to let Derrick down easy. Sara and Grissom could start fresh. Sara would have to switch to the day shift and that would limit their time together, but it would be worth it.
"I am not interested in anything but a working relationship with you, Sara," Grissom continued, unaware of the 16-ton weight he'd just dropped on her heart. "I can't and won't dance around that. My affections lie elsewhere and that's the closest you and I will come to discussing my love life."
"I see," Sara managed to reply without croaking. "I need to finish up some reports."
"Good." Grissom smiled. "We understand each other, right?"
"Right," she agreed. Sara rushed into the locker room and was grateful to find it empty. No one saw her break down.
==========================
To be continued...