TITLE: Ten-Day Evidence (Part of the Evidence AU )

AUTHOR: Macx

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: Nick/Gil

ARCHIVE: yes

DISCLAIMER: CSI belongs to CBS, Alliance Atlantic, Jerry Bruckheimer, Anthony E. Zuiker and whoever else claims rights. We don’t. Nu-uh! We just play with 'em. The Denuo universe was created by Macx and myself.

Lara’s and Macx’ Voice of Warning (aka Authors’ Note): English is not our first language; it’s German. This is the best we can do. Any mistakes you find in here, collect them and you might win a prize <g> The spell-checker said everything’s okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are...

TYPE: slash

STATUS: done

Note: This was born out of two things: 1) looking at screen caps from season 4 and 2) talking to Lara, my co-author of many fics....

Looks what happens...

Ten-Day Evidence
by Macx

Nick pushed the door open, smiling to himself. Ten days with his family had put him into an extremely good mood, even if it had meant ten days without his lover. Grissom had simply pushed him into taking the time off to see his sisters, parents and brother. The marriage of his youngest sister had been a family event and he had caught up on all the new additions to the family. Nieces, nephews and in-laws, as well as all the stories to be told at such events.

But now he was back home and it felt wonderful. He was looking forward to a nice, loving evening with Grissom, maybe a good dinner, some wine, and?

"Hello, Nicky. Had a good flight?"

Nick's bag dropped out of suddenly nerveless fingers. He knew his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide.

He stared.

At Grissom.

"Oh god, no?" he whispered.

Grissom stopped where he was, carrying several heavy looking books. "Nicky?"

Nick had arrived rather early in the morning, a red-eye flight, and it had been in the middle of a shift. Instead of forcing Grissom to take time off from lab work or a crime scene, he had taken a cab home, his home, showered, changed, and thrown some additional clothes into his bag for a few overnight stays. He could wash his stuff at Grissom's.

Now his good mood was gone, the expectancy of a wonderful day evaporated.

He still stared.

"Gil?" he whispered hoarsely. "What happened?"

Grissom frowned and placed the books on the table. "What happened when or where?"

Nick walked over to his lover like in a trance. "How??"

He felt like the rug had suddenly been pulled out from under him.

Please, no? not again!

"When did it happen?" he whispered, steeling himself for the answer.

Grissom looked confused.

"Was it that weekend I couldn't reach you? Were you in the hospital? Did anybody see it? Was it at a crime scene or an accident?" he continued to fire questions at his lover. "Do I have to pack the emergency bags and we leave tonight?"

Grissom's expression was one of total bewilderment and he finally reached out, touching Nick, who was starting to tremble.

"Nick, calm down. What's going on? What do you think happened?"

"You died," Nick blurted.

"What?!" Wide blue eyes stared at him.

"You? died," Nick repeated, this time with a bit more hesitation. "I mean, why else??" He gestured weakly.

"Why else what? Nick, nothing happened. I didn't get injured or died. I'm still my old self." He smiled slightly. "Well, the new old self."

Nick blinked, mouth still too dry. He licked his lips. "Really?"

Grissom pulled him over to the couch and made him sit down, then pushed a glass of water into his hand. Nick drank slowly, noting how his fingers were trembling.

The very real idea that something had happened to Grissom, had killed him and he had regenerated again, had lanced a deep pain inside him.

While being a Phoenix meant that Grissom could come back from most forms of death, it also meant pain and nightmares, and maybe having to leave Vegas because in a few years it would be too obvious that Grissom was suddenly forty-two again.

"Nick," Grissom said softly, touching his chin and making him look up. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. And that weekend? I was in Henderson on a triple and didn't get back until a day later because of complications."

"Oh."

"What makes you think something happened?" he queried gently.

Nick reached out and brushed his hand over Grissom's cheek, feeling the bristles on his skin. "That."

For a second, there was confusion in Grissom's eyes, then realization hit him. A smile stretched his lips. "The beard?"

"Yeah."

"Just because of that?"

Nick nodded, feeling stupid. He dropped his hand, but Grissom caught it.

"You're not the first to complain about it," the older man said softly.

"Huh?"

"Catherine. Often and quite vocally, too."

Nick grinned. "Well, it's kinda?"

Grissom tilted his head, eyebrows rising.

"Hideous," Nick blurted, then smiled disarmingly.

"Hideous," Grissom echoed.

"It's not? you, Gil. It's?"

"Hideous," the other man repeated.

Nick shrugged and ran a questing finger over the unfamiliar growth. "I like you better without it," he confessed.

"Want me to take it off?"

Stokes smiled. "Only if you want to. I mean, I could get used to it? in a few years?"

Grissom chuckled. "Point taken." He started to rise.

"And where do you think you're going?" Nick asked.

"Shaving?"

The younger man pulled him back down and brushed his lips over Grissom's. "Not just yet."

A questioning look answered him.

"I just wanna feel what's it like to have you with a beard," Nick murmured seductively, already unbuttoning the shirt to slip his hands inside.

Grissom didn't resist. He just pushed Nick back onto the couch, kissing him deeply, nipping and licking and biting gently at the exposed skin of his neck, making him arch into his touch.

Nick's hand were all over his skin, caressing him, stroking, as if he needed to reassure himself that there was no injury, that Grissom was still himself.

"I'm okay," he whispered against Nick's ear, nibbling at the shell.

"Nothing happened."

Nick sighed in pleasure, seeking more body contact.

Both men quickly lost their shirts and t-shirts, and Nick moaned his encouragement as his lover reacquainted himself with his body.

"Bed," Grissom suggested, brushing over the growing bulge.

Nick looked up at him, legs spread, Grissom between them, and the heated blue eyes did things to his body that were incredible. He scrambled off the couch, pulling his lover close, kissing him deeply. They made it into the bedroom, kissing and touching, and the pants were soon all over
the floor. Grissom took his time, his hands brushing over sensitive spots and Nick closed his eyes in bliss.

"Gil," he pleaded when the magic fingers teased but refused to give relief, sometimes joined in by a talented tongue.

He was straining hard, he needed something, anything, and he wanted Grissom.

Nick bit his lip at the sensation of Grissom finally slowly sliding into him, crying out as the pleasure rose. He responded to every move, every touch, needing to get more, not wanting it to end. When it finally did end in a rush of pleasure and satisfaction, he weakly gathered his lover into his arms, lazily answering the sloppy kiss.

They cleaned up more or less, then Grissom threw the towel onto the floor, coming back into his arms again. The beard still felt strange, even weird, and the amused expression in his lover's eyes told him that Grissom was well aware of his thoughts.

"I'll take it off," Gil whispered, kissing him. "For you." Another kiss. "Tomorrow."

Nick grunted in agreement. "Good." He enveloped Grissom into his arms, holding him close. "Love you."

"Beard and all?"

"Temporary beard and all," he corrected, grinning.

Grissom chuckled and pulled the blanket over them. "Tomorrow," was all he said.

"Gil?"

"Hm?"

"Why?"

Grissom raised his head a little and looked into the warm, brown eyes. "Why what?"

"The beard."

"It was a good idea at the time."

"Gone for ten days and look what happens," Nick mumbled. "Can't leave you alone for a second."

* * *

Catherine walked into the break room and glanced at the man in the dark shirt and pants, then stopped. She did a double take, then started to smile. Grissom, who had been going through a case file, studying crime scene photos, looked up and frowned as he took in her expression.

"What?" he finally asked.

"Nick's back. Good," she only said and walked over to the fridge.

Grissom frowned, but before he could say something, Warrick joined them.

The other man suddenly grinned and Catherine held out one hand. "Pay up."

Warrick dug out a twenty bill. "Man, you got me, girl. Never would have thought that."

Catherine grinned, pocketing the twenty. "Never bet against me, kid."

Grissom's frown was still present. "May I ask what's going on here?"

"Like I said," Catherine answered lightly. "Nick's back."

"And the fuzz's gone," Warrick added, making a gesture toward his chin. "You know?"

Grissom tilted his head. "You bet on when I would shave?"

"No, 'if' is the magic word," Willows chimed in. "I was right, Warrick was wrong."

That was the moment Sara walked in and she smiled at Grissom. "Wow, it's off."

Grissom almost rolled his eyes. How could such a menial little thing as a beard keep his team occupied?

"Now, whatcha got for us, boss?" Catherine asked.

Grissom gave a long suffering sigh, then picked up the assignment slips, handing out one to each.

"So, Nick coming in tonight?"

"No, tomorrow," he answered distractedly, getting up.

"Cool. Okay, off to my hooker," Warrick chuckled, waving the slip.

They dispersed. All except Catherine, who stayed with Grissom, smiling secretly.

"What now?" Gil wanted to know, very much aware that she would say her piece of mind whether he wanted to hear it or not.

"Glad you got rid of the beard, Gil, that's all."

He frowned.

"I knew Nicky was good for you."

And with that she was out the break room.