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niceandfluffy2FIC: To Whom It May Concern (10/?)
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary: When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Please check tags for past chapters
With massive thanks to Staci for beta-duties ^^
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fanarts_series.
*
“Let me get this straight,” Gil’s voice was steady even to him, but he knew he couldn’t quite remove the incredulous tone to it. “You want us all to gather at Lady Heather’s for a social gathering to discuss whether we all want to continue our bondage role-playing in our spare time? Does this not seem odd to you, that firstly the suggestion has even come up and secondly that it’s you, the person who opposed the scene in the first place, who’s suggesting it?”
Catherine shrugged carelessly, her eyes cool and unwavering on his.
“You always did say that none of us are who we appear to be on the outside.” she replied. “And I like to be practical. I said that the event was going to have a lasting effect outside of that one time, and it has. Acceptance of a fact doesn’t make me like the fact itself. I don’t like murders, that doesn’t mean I have to deny the crime scene.”
Gil leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen in his hands as he stared back at her. There had been no question that Catherine had been prowling around, watching their movements, and often dragging Warrick off for a ‘private chat’. However, he had simply assumed said chat had revolved around a verbal slap for Warrick’s current habit of hanging around the department rather than being on field work. The possibility that she had been both interrogating Warrick and forming her own method of attack hadn’t occurred to him, although that had clearly been a mistake. Catherine didn’t sit back and let things happen to her. She was a force of nature all by herself.
Then again, forces of nature had never really gained a reputation for thinking before acting.
“It’s been slightly over a week.” Gil said delicately. “I know you can be a little impatient, but I hardly call that ‘lasting effect’, in the same way I would consider a marriage proposal after two weeks a little on the hasty side. If there is a problem, it’s an infatuation, nothing more.”
“If?” Catherine raised an eyebrow. “There’s an ‘if’ now?”
That warranted a sigh. “Well, let’s view it in context, shall we? We’re talking about three young men in their prime, no medical conditions to suggest that their sex drive has been diminished, and everything to suggest that the graveyard shift often means that their social lives suffer. Essentially, you’d say they don’t get out enough.” Gil shrugged slightly. “That they might look to each other briefly for sexual pleasure doesn’t mean anything, and at this point I haven’t seen anything to suggest any of them have gone past the ‘looking’ stage.”
“Then let’s not look at the boys and let’s focus on you, shall we?” Catherine seemed completely undisturbed by Gil’s comments, her eyes just as sharp and focused as they had been at the start. “You enjoyed that scene, and you enjoyed doing it specifically with them, enough-,” she added when Gil opened his mouth to protest. “-that you’ve been fawning over them at work.”
“I have not been fawning over them-,”
“You let Greg have his music on the other day and shared jokes with him. And you were so close to Warrick whilst he was changing that you could have swapped clothes.” Catherine’s voice was brisk. “And let’s not forget that sappily soft expression that enters into your eyes whenever Nick opens his mouth and drawls something in that honey-rich accent of his.”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the desk impatiently. “I can’t see how any of that suggests there’s a problem.”
“If you mean, will that behaviour get you a reprimand on your record then no, I’d agree with you.” Catherine gave a nod in agreement. “But can you look at yourself and say there’s absolutely nothing behind those gestures?”
There was silence for a few moments as they studied each other, neither moving. Grudgingly, Gil put down the pen. “It’s not uncommon for the boss to have a slight crush on the secretary.”
“Is that what this is, Gil? A slight crush?” Catherine pressed. “Look, I’m all for romance, you know that, but you and I both know what happens when things are allowed to continue without addressing the root problem. You guys either have to accept it and act on it, or choose to go your separate ways and we work out a way to limit the damage. And since the easiest path is going to be the separate ways thing, even if your minds are travelling in a different direction, I want you to properly explore what you’re turning down before you guys declare your disinterest and then end up in a compromising position behind the bike sheds.”
“We don’t have bike sheds-,”
“Well, we should do, environmentally friendly and better for my dramatic speeches,” Catherine leaned back in her chair. “Look, Gil, I just want to mitigate the damage here. We could wait, sure, only you and I both know that if something happens, it’s going to be pretty damned impressive. You have to have the right equipment to do dangerous sports, you can’t just walk up to a cliff and hurl yourself off it.”
“Still, I think you’re jumping the gun.” Gil rotated the chair slightly, rocking it back and forth and earning himself an exasperated sigh from Catherine, who began to prowl around the office irritably. “If we still have this infatuation after a few months, then perhaps, perhaps we could investigate whether we want to try something else. And at this point-,”
“Gil-,” Catherine had paused, still looking at some of the piles of paperwork he had yet to go through. Typical. Trying to interrupt and not even having the common decency to glare at him whilst she did it. And it wasn’t even as though his own mind was confident on what he was saying; it was merely what he was supposed to say, the supervisor in him coming to the front, and the ‘responsibility’ taking over.
He was not going to think on meetings. He couldn’t.
“- no, you’ve had your dramatic speech, it’s time for mine.” Gil sighed. “At this point perhaps I can… discourage them. I might well have been treating them a little differently, considering what happened. A slightly stricter working place might be the way forwards.”
“Gil-,”
“Although I will have to make sure that they know it’s not their fault,” Gil was lost in his own thoughts, frowning at that consideration. “I don’t want them to feel punished by it all. On the other hand-,”
“Gil!”
Gil admitted defeat, although the sigh he gave was irritable. “What?”
There was the smallest of pauses, and then Catherine looked up at him with a bewildered expression. One slim, neatly painted nail indicated the pile of paperwork. “Your post is .. bleeding,”
Gil frowned at her harder before looking at where the finger was pointing. And sure enough, a dark brown-red stain was slowly blossoming through paper to leave a particularly morbid pattern on his usually dull administration. An eyebrow rose curiously, and Gil slowly stood, walking to the pile and bending down to assess it.
“Hmmm. Now that is interesting.”
And it was destined to get a little more interesting as time went on, but then unexplained blood stains had a tendency to do so. It was their nature, after all. Just as it was in the nature of the department to take a dim view on such things.
Life was harsh sometimes.
*
The message from Blake came through on the mobile later that day. Gil hadn’t been expecting anything else; if the world was destined to produce complications then the world tended to save them all up for one particular day. Perhaps it was simply to give people choice in their method of destruction. However, it was also destined to make the department jumpier than they would have been had the organ been on its own, which was likely to cause problems for all concerned. Nervous people often made mistakes, often taking things to extremes, and from the look on Jim Brass’ face as he walked around the office, he was certainly not planning to disappoint. Gil waited as Brass prowled around the office, reading the transcript for the fifth time with a scowl so deep that it could almost be considered a facial canyon.
“There’s no address.” Brass said finally, crossly. “Just the date.”
Gil gave a little shrug in acknowledgement that words had been spoken. There was no reason to make any comment on what Brass had just said of course, the words not meant for a general discussion but simply allowing Jim the opportunity to run things through his mind and to relieve a little of the frustration. Brass paced a little further, and then looked at Gil in annoyance.
“So exactly what are they expecting us to do on this date? Hold a party? Get a cake?”
“I would imagine that they’re expecting us to meet them at the Dominion. A safe area, somewhere neutral to meet and travel together,” Gil spoke softly.
“Well, that’s more than useless.” Brass growled in irritation. “No one’s going to meet him. Anything on the phone he used?”
“A disposable one.” Gil delivered that information, although the facial canyon failed to get any deeper. Apparently this was a fact that Brass had already considered. “And there may be something else connected with the case. We had a kidney delivered through the post to my office. No note. Fresh. Lamb’s, from the look of it,”
Brass aimed him a look. “Someone’s sending you bits of animal through the post? That happen all the time?”
Gil allowed a slight smile for that. “Thankfully not. The juices had already seeped through two forms and one of Sara’s reports before Catherine noticed it.”
“Catherine noticed it? It’s your office, and presumably addressed to you. Any chance that you’ll start noticing your own post?” Brass rolled his eyes then sighed and looked at the note again. “D’you think it’s connected to your man here?”
“I hope not.” Gil spoke quietly. “If he’s sending me organs through the post to my work address, then he clearly knows who I am. And who the others are,”
That caught Brass’ attention. The note lowered suspiciously. “You think there’s any risk involved? I can get uniform to-,”
“No.” Gil spoke firmly but softly, his eyes resting on Brass’. “Perhaps a panic button installed, but uniforms going to attract too much attention, especially if goes on for several nights. And, after all, we don’t even have a crime to attach it to.”
Brass grunted, and then waved the paper. “Can get them and file it under harassment. Stands to reason you guys are likely to get the nutters with a vengeance to fulfil.”
“That’s a comforting thought.”
“It’s not supposed to be comforting.” Brass pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and then let them fall with a sigh. “Okay. I’m assuming you’ve got some little plan already worked out in your head, you always do.”
“I could meet them-,”
“No. Next?”
Gil’s eyes narrowed. “If we don’t get an address, we lose what we’ve accomplished.”
“If we start dancing to other people’s tunes, we risk doing the tango when we’re supposed to be doing the salsa.” Brass shook his head. “Answer’s still no, Gil. If this wasn’t one of your little missions that dealt with an area of your own personal interest, you wouldn’t have even asked me that.”
That warranted a suspicious look back in return. “Personal interest?”
“You know what I mean. You and Lady Heather’s house of General Alarm. The study of human social interaction, or whatever you kids are calling it nowadays. Every time you think about those toys she’s got in there, your eyes sparkle.” Brass eyed him then sighed. “Yeah, kinda like that.”
Gil’s fingers drummed impatiently, deciding not to comment on Brass’ accusations. Too many protests were likely to ruin his argument as much as no protest at all, and it wasn’t as though they didn’t have enough topics to distract it onto a different line of conversation. “What’s your suggestion?”
“At this stage, I’m not sure I have one. No leads, no crime, nothing on your boy Blake other than a few misdemeanours that pop up regularly with his type of businessman..,” Brass frowned harder at the paper. “We might have to let this one go, Gil.”
“No.”
“Yeah, well, until we get hold of a decent Plan A then we’re officially screwed. If he’s got some sort of basement holding area, it’s in someone else’s name and I don’t need to tell you how many storage bays are around the Vegas area that could fit.” Brass shook his head. “Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. You never know, someone might have screwed up somewhere. You just make sure you and your team are safe,”
Gil tilted his head in agreement, his eyes already distant. The concept of making his team safe had always been forefront of his mind, and now, with a possible and genuine threat on the horizon, he genuinely had to do something before someone got hurt. Theories only really worked when people had time to think. There was no question on how he wanted to tackle it either, although hell, it clashed badly with every sensible thought in his mind.
A slightly stricter working place might be the way forwards..
Treating them differently.
A crush…
Gil smiled to himself ruefully. No, having the group in close quarters to him was not the best way to resolve an infatuation, but then his instincts weren’t giving him much of an option. They needed protection, and Gil was not intending to pass that task to someone else on the hope that they might do things well. Trying to stick to protocol might be the best thing professionally, but useless if it put them in danger as a result.
“Gil?” Brass’ voice cut through his thoughts. “You okay?”
Gil smiled to himself ruefully, then refocused on the detective. “I’m fine,” he said delicately. “Shall we discuss practicalities?”
And with the practicalities came the ability to kill two birds with one stone. Catherine would be so proud.
*
“We’re staying over where?” Greg looked from one face to another, a completely bewildered expression in his eyes. Gil leaned back in his chair and watched the others carefully.
“A rented apartment for a few days as a safety precaution.” he replied as idly as he could. “There’s a possibility that Blake might well have worked out who we are. If the kidney was from him, then it might well be a threat against us.”
“And if it isn’t from him, we’ve got some other psycho on our case, or is it just someone who thinks we’re not getting enough iron in our diet?” Sara pointed out dryly. “Sounds a fun evening. Catherine and I don’t have to share with you lot, do we? Because, no offence guys other than Greg, I kinda like my space, and if I want to walk out naked from a shower, I want that luxury,”
There was a pause as several pairs of eyes surveyed her in interest. Sara sighed irritably.
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, I just want to be able to do it if I want,”
“I doubt whether anyone’s going to object if anyone walks out naked from the shower,” Greg piped up cheerfully. “Unless there’s puddles of water everywhere.”
Catherine was busy studying the note with the same frown that Brass had worn, ignoring the other’s discussion around her. Finally her eyes lifted, carefully putting down the memo onto the table as though it had actually come from the man himself rather than Gil having jotted it down, and then resting her hands carefully on the table.
“Accommodation is easy,” she said in the pause between the younger members discussing bathroom etiquette, her eyes trained on Gil. “I’m a little more interested in what you’ve been planning for this date.”
A finger landed squarely in the centre of the note, Catherine’s gaze unwavering as she looked back at him. Gil’s eyebrow lifted slightly. Clearly Brass and Catherine’s minds had been corrupted over the years into a particularly good example of ‘suspect Gil of everything’.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
That snapped the others into the conversation, and it certainly wasn’t one that Gil had wanted them to enter into either. Warrick frowned at him with his typical critical expression to suggest he thought that one or more of his immediate supervisors were teetering on the edge of full insanity, flicking his gaze at Catherine before allowing it to return to Gil. He leaned back with his usual gesture that suggested lazy insolence, and then raised an eyebrow of his own.
“No one’s actually gonna meet this guy, right? It’s all uniform’s job now,” he said slowly.
“There hasn’t been a decision on what will happen yet,” Gil repeated mildly, although he could feel a tick occurring in his lower jaw. Warrick’s frown deepened.
“Unnecessary risk, man,” he shrugged.
“I dunno,” Nick interrupted, looking around the table. “Blake’s either gonna be dangerous or he’s just a particularly rough client for these sort of games, right? If he’s dangerous, then he can be taken down before anything happens. If he’s just poor at the social small-talk, then whoever goes can say ‘no thanks’ and walk out the door. Hell, we’re not exactly going to mind if we’re off the Christmas card list, are we?”
“You’re not offering,” Catherine’s voice was light, sweet and made of steel. An exasperated look crossed Nick’s eyes as he gave her a sulky look.
“I don’t have to offer. Griss could do this by himself if he wanted to, although he should really take at least one of us with him,” he argued. “Just say he’s going to check out the venue and then he’d pick one of us up afterwards. Seems a reasonable precaution for any normal bloke who’s been offered a snuff film scene, right? You’re not just going to assume the place is fine.”
“Nick’s got a point,” Sara drummed her fingers on the table, and earned herself a pleased, thankful grin from Nick. Catherine gave them a look that suggested she was two seconds away from shoving them both in a cupboard and locking the door, and then turned her mutinous expression onto Gil.
“No.”
Gil said nothing, watching the conversation as it rolled around the table. Warrick still had a particularly guarded expression on his face that spoke of his distaste for the discussion. Sara wore her usual argumentative frown that always turned up whenever someone disagreed with her plans, and Nick was a strange mix of emotions, reluctance blended with the strength he always had whenever he thought the ‘bad guys’ might get away. Greg was looking slightly bewildered, glancing around the table as though he had completely missed a joke.
“Uh,” the youngest member of the table spoke up. “Say we do this. What happens if we lose the person who gets sent to the location?”
“We don’t lose them.” Sara and Nick managed to chorus the answer together. Greg waved that little harmony off with a hand.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s Plan A, but what happens if there’s something weird happening? You know, like a radio transmission gets blocked by some interference, or the people following them miss where they’ve turned off, or even if you get to a location, there’s danger, there’s a fire fight, and when we – the Good Guys, white hats and all – manage to get into the building, then the Big Bad Guy has vanished off out the back with whoever it is who went. Or has shot them in the head, straight away.” Greg hesitated, and then looked apologetically at Gil. “Hey, what happens if that organ is from Blake, who knows who you are, and is just waiting to get you alone so he can extract revenge from your helpless, bound body-,”
“You were watching that slasher horror film fest yesterday, weren’t you?” Sara sighed.
“Well, yes, but art reflects life, right?” Greg shrugged. “If I was some bad killer and discovered the guy I’d been making friends with was a police operation, I’d be pretty fucked off.”
“And insane for trying to kill one of the police go to guys?” Nick shook his head. “Nah, man, if they think it’s risky then they just won’t turn up. I mean, who tries to kill someone who’s probably being followed by the police, especially if they’re trying to keep their head under the radar?”
“Someone with an ego the size of a mountain,” Catherine replied briskly. “And you know Vegas attracts that type of guy. They just don’t think they’ll be caught.”
“All the more reason to try to catch them!” Nick argued back, looking at Gil with a beseeching look that managed to turn Gil’s chair into a little torturous area to sit on as a firm throb hit in his groin. “C’mon, Gil, this is worth the risk.”
“No, it’s not, and don’t you start trying to sweet talk Grissom into your way of thinking, Nicholas.” Catherine growled. “Things got out of hand last time, and we were all there and watching, remember? If this time has knives and blood involved, there is no way I’m having any of my boys at that sort of risk,”
“It’s surely been a few years since I could be classified as a ‘boy’-,” Gil began when Catherine turned a laser sharp gaze on him.
“You’ve got testicles, you’ll do. And don’t give me that, Gil. If I find you..,” she paused and gave Nick a suspicious look. “.. any of you pulling this stunt then you’re going to find Blake is the least of your problems. Am I making myself clear? I mean it. Even if I have to get Brass to lock the pair of you up during that period of time, and you know damned well he will if I ask him to.”
“Cool. Prison role-play!” Greg said cheerfully, and then flinched as Catherine’s glare turned on him. “Uh, sorry.”
Nick folded his arms stubbornly, although he wisely kept his mouth shut. Warrick leaned back in his chair, his gaze calm and thoughtful as he looked back at Gil.
“So, where’s this apartment we’re supposed to go to?” he said, easily changing the subject with Warrick’s smooth manner. “And how long are we supposed to stay there for?”
“We’re still going to work as normal, right?” Greg butted in. “This is just ‘safety in numbers’ rather than quarantine?”
“I’d prefer not to say which apartment it is at this stage. We can all travel in one of the cars, there’s no need for anyone but the driver to know until we get there.” Gil replied. “There will be supplies already there. Unless there’s something vital you require, you won’t need to get luggage.”
Warrick’s critical expression grew more critical. “Supplies, huh? Sounds serious.”
“Different budget. We’re classified under ‘harassment’, so our expenses are covered. And no, this doesn’t mean takeout each and every day, Greg.” Gil added as the younger man perked up. Greg unperked.
“Aww! What’s the TV like? Cause I’ve got several series I watch, and there’s a whole monster film marathon on this weekend that I have to watch otherwise .. uh, well, I have to watch,” he turned a beaming smile onto Nick. “Hey, we can grab popcorn, have a session of it!”
Nick gave him a little smile back, but it was an automatic one while his mind was concerning itself with other matters. His dark eyes surveyed Gil carefully but his mouth remained closed, possibly in memory of how well Catherine could tear into him if required. Sara rolled her eyes.
“If we end up taking all your work for the next few days because of this I’m gonna be fucked off,” she complained. “I’ve got court tomorrow, I don’t need to be crawling around in a sewer pipe in the morning after bugs because you guys didn’t get up in time. Anyway, isn’t this like putting all your eggs in one basket? What happens if they track you down to this apartment and just, I don’t know, blow it up?”
“There’s no guarantee that the organ is linked. It may have some completely innocent reason,” Gil gave the smallest of shrugs.
“Uh, no offence boss, but I’m having real difficulty trying to think of an innocent reason for sending bits of raw meat through the post,” Greg frowned. “I personally prefer pizza. Or chocolates.”
“The package is being processed at the moment?” Catherine had been suspiciously quiet, her cool eyes still studying Gil with the look that clearly stated she thought he was up to something. Gil nodded.
“It’s been given to day shift to complete, since we’re all likely to be connected to it.” he replied. “Preliminary checks show a few fingerprints, but then the package has been delivered through the usual system. If there had been no prints at all, I’d be getting suspicious.”
“And this is getting reported to Ecklie rather than us? Or do we have access to the file in progress?” Catherine’s finger was tap-tapping on the table again. Gil shrugged and smiled at her.
“I suspect we may have a few questions aimed in our direction,”
“What, like the ‘do you recognise this kidney’ type of questions?” Greg blinked, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, the ‘do you have any enemies?’ one? Cause I don’t, if anyone wants to know. Well, that I know of, anyway. I mean, I am obviously a possible source of jealousy amongst the ranks given my stylish good looks, and then I might have forgotten someone’s birthday because my dog.. okay, next door’s dog .. ate my address book, which I didn’t think they actually did. And then-,”
“That apartment have a gag on order as well?” Warrick queried with a sigh. Greg’s eyes twinkled.
“Ooh, kinky!”
“Okay, let’s put kinky to one side, shall we?” Catherine leaned forward. “Let’s just focus on the primary stuff here. For the moment, you guys are staying in Apartment X, and the package is being examined. No one, and Gil, that includes both you and Nick, is going to take up this little offer that’s been given, we’ll leave it to Jim to sort out. We just get on with work as normal, and keep an eye for any unexplained activity, and don’t even think about it Greg.”
Greg shut his mouth with a disappointed little click and a little too obvious ‘awww’ in his eyes as the prospect of debating on what posed unexplained activity was removed from him. Catherine looked around the table.
“Okay, good. We’ll leave it there. Just be on your guard, there’s no guarantee this package is linked to Blake. Trust no one.”
“Ooh, X-files-,”
“Greg, I swear, one more ooh out of you and you’re going to have to worry about the people inside this department rather than outside it,” Catherine smiled at him sweetly. Greg snapped a salute, and then grinned sheepishly. Sara frowned thoughtfully, then raised her hand in the slow, deliberate way she had when she was knowingly making a point rather than actually asking for permission.
“Uh.. I have a question,” she looked around the table. “If they do start interviewing us, what the hell are we going to tell them? Because, and stop me if I’m wrong, the last thing that any of us want to do is to explain in detail to Ecklie’s team exactly how we know Blake and why he’s a problem, right? Because I doubt whether ‘undercover case’ would really stop them asking questions, and it wasn’t exactly official to begin with,”
There was a little period of silence following that. Gil watched the expressions that flowed around the table, keeping his own as textbook blank as he could without actually wearing a mask. Greg’s look of surprise, as though the question hadn’t quite managed to penetrate. Warrick’s wary look whenever he thought he was being herded into a trap. Nick’s darted look of anxiety before he tried to smother it under a shield of indifference. And Catherine’s sharp look, the mother with a knife whose children were being threatened.
“I’ll handle the questions,” Gil replied finally. “There’s nothing linking Blake to any one individual as far as the department is concerned, and therefore I should be able to answer anything they need.”
“Yeah? That why it’s only the men who have this swanky apartment?” Sara replied softly.
“We can explain that by using confidentiality,” Gil shrugged slightly. “Brass has the paperwork to cover it. If any of them start asking awkward questions, tell them that I have given you strict instructions to steer them back to me. You’re welcome to invent some type of threat I’ve told you to get you all to obey me, incidentally, I know how some of you dislike not being able to speak your minds when asked.”
“So, what, can’t tell you otherwise Grissom’s going to start poking needles under our fingernails?” Greg said slowly.
“I was thinking a little more about suspensions and lack of overtime, considering exactly how and where we met Mr Blake. The last things we need are hints of physical restraint.” Gil spoke as mildly as he could, still watching the flickers of animation on the other occupants’ faces. Greg flushed, then glanced at Nick who had become a poster boy for statues everywhere, then coughed softly.
“Yeah, guess so.” he mumbled. Nick scowled, a sulky, hunted expression showing in his eyes.
“Hey, man, it might not even happen,” he argued, clearly fighting his discomfort. “At this stage, it’s pretty much BS, right? Not much to go on, no actual threat. If they actually wanted to threaten us, I’m pretty damned sure human organs would get our attention quicker than something out of a butcher’s shop. What I’m saying here is that they probably won’t ask us all those questions because we’ve all got masses of cases, man, lots of resentment there. We start listing everyone who might have a problem with us, we’ll be there for a whole year. No way a team’s going to want to opening that can of worms unless they need to.”
“It’s Ecklie’s team,” Catherine tossed her hair back in the faintly determined way she always had whenever she was scenting a battle to fight. “You know what he’d do if he found this out. Any hint and he’ll use it.”
Warrick shifted in his chair lazily. “We’ll just keep our mouths shut,” he drawled. “Can’t undo history now. If stuff happens, we’ll deal with it then,”
“Exactly,” Nick gave Warrick’s arm a friendly slap on the bicep. “We’re cool.”
Gil found Nick’s particularly firm expression suddenly aimed at him, a strong, powerful look in the other man’s dark eyes that spoke pretty clearly of Nick’s determination to force things to be cool. The man might possess a little boy look of intense vulnerability, but that didn’t mean the person inside wasn’t as stubborn as a mule.
“Okay.” he allowed Nick his little closing moment of triumph. “We’ll leave it there. Any problems, speak to me. Any uncertainties, make sure you’re talking to either myself or Catherine. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, always make sure you’re in a group, and so on.”
“All that’s been said already,” Sara commented mildly.
“Then I’m saying it again.” Gil replied, just as calmly. “I don’t want any misunderstandings here. If I find anyone not taking this seriously, they will be on suspension until things are cleared. Possibly out of state. There’s a few conventions I can send people to.”
“Hey, since when was a convention some type of punishment?” Greg looked bewildered. “I wanna go!”
“Oh, it’s not the going that’ll be the punishment. It’ll be the coming back and facing me,” Catherine spoke up sweetly. Greg hesitated, and then squirmed.
“Uh. Oh. Yeah.” Greg offered her a rueful grin. Gil looked between them, and then gathered his papers up.
“Okay. That’ll do for today,” he said. “Let’s get on with the day and see how it goes. Meet back here at end of shift when it comes to the apartment,”
Gil had pushed himself up from the table relatively quickly, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape Catherine before they had left. Brushing past him, she looked at him steadily before leaning toward his ear.
“So, in this wonderful apartment of yours, are you going to be having separate bedrooms, or are you just going to arrange one massively large bed instead?” she murmured. “Oh, that’s right. You’re still in denial, aren’t you? It must be lovely this time of year,”
*
Nick drove. He insisted. There was something particularly important to him that his vehicle be the one that got them there and got them back, and he was touched to notice that his colleagues both understood and respected it. Perhaps it was the freedom it represented, or the fact that he knew the car was always there. Whatever it was, it made him one hell of a lot happier as he stood in the hallway and surveyed their new ‘home’ for the next three nights at least.
Out of the others, Greg was the only one who was highly enthusiastic about the whole thing. Despite the fact that he was still keeping one eye on Grissom’s whereabouts and level of eyebrow raise, there was still a certain amount of glee in the young man’s movements and in the way he investigated everything in the apartment, regardless of how small and insignificant.
There was, surprisingly, nothing small or insignificant about the size of the apartment. The living space had surprising amount of room, and the kitchen attached to it was much larger than the one that Nick was used to at home. There were only two bedrooms, but these were large rooms, both with twin beds that were a fatter example of their brand. Not that Nick particularly minded what size they were; he would have been happy on the couch if they had needed him to be there. A pillow and a mattress was definitely a luxury he hadn’t expected.
“So!” Greg looked at them expectantly, after inspecting the rooms and discovering the issue. “Who’s sharing with who?”
Which was a damned good question, really. Nick pursed his lips as he began to put some of the shopping they’d brought in the fridge, and tried not to look as though he was straining to hear the judgement. After a few moments of silence, he risked a look. Gil had a look on his face that spoke of calculation as he studied the bedroom doors. Greg had perched himself on the arm of one of the chairs, looking from Gil and then to Warrick and then back again. Warrick was another matter; an almost bored look had crossed his expression, although Nick was never fooled by that any more. Bored was one of Warrick’s decent game faces, a good ‘disinterested’ poise that he always seemed to take at gambling sessions and when a girl he liked was prowling around him, and it spoke volumes that the man hadn’t yet suggested his own preferences either.
Nick glanced at Gil again and ducked his head as their gazes met, getting back to putting the frozen yogurt where it was supposed to be. He guessed he probably should stick in his own opinions on what was happening with the rooms, but it seemed natural enough to leave it to Griss’ decision, their working authority sliding very easily into the apartment politics.
“Warrick, you’re with me,” Gil decided softly. “Greg, you’re with Nick.”
That announcement really shouldn’t have allowed him a quiet sigh of relief, and Nick was mortified at himself for having it. Gil wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t even a man he wanted to avoid. He was a friend, one that was still uncomfortably special to him, and yet all of that still didn’t mean that Nick was going to relax if he was conscious of Grissom lying half naked on the other bed.
Nick winced to himself. Yeah, there was something uncomfortable with that admission as well. Thankfully, Greg was more than able to distract him away from it as the younger man strolled into the kitchen area and suddenly enveloped him in a bear hug that almost gave a death sentence to the last of the yogurt pots.
“Yay, we’re roomies! Can I have the bed nearest the window?”
“Sure, if you’ll give me room to breathe..?”
“Hmm? Oh, shit, sorry!” Greg hugged him again, a little harder, before releasing him and stealing a packet of what appeared to be Gummie Bears from the bag.
“Greg?” came Warrick’s rumble from where he had positioned himself on the couch. “Drop. I ain’ putting up with you on a sugar rush as well, ‘kay?”
There was a weary sigh, but the packet landed back onto the bag. Nick smiled ruefully and began to pack the rest away, looking up every so often at the others. Greg had returned back to the couch, although he had now perched himself next to Warrick. And then there was Gil, who hadn’t really moved much. Nick frowned slightly as he watched him, trying to place the expression that currently graced Gil’s face. It seemed to be slight bewilderment, as though the man had been expecting something in the room and it hadn’t quite turned out the way he had expected, although Nick had no idea why that would be. Or, perhaps, the man simply felt a little lost with so much socialisation in what was essentially their free time. If Griss was used to solitary silence as he mulled away at home, having three men hanging around the living room was going to be weird.
Nick finished his work and returned to the chairs, sinking down in one and feeling the cushions support his weight just as Greg discovered the remote for the television and switched it on. Greg glanced at Griss a little sheepishly.
“Uh, you got anything you want to watch, sir?”
“No. You choose, I’ll take a shower,” Gil smiled, but it was still the distant smile of one whose mind was elsewhere. “And don’t call me ‘sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” Greg gave him a winning smile, then a little ‘oof’ as Warrick’s fingertips found a spot just under Greg’s ribcage and poked it. Scowling at him sulkily and rubbing the spot, he looked up at the screen with wide eyes and the expression of a small child with something large, plastic and brightly coloured. “Oh! Monster mash Fest! More blood ‘n’ gore than you can wave a cleaver at!”
Nick met Warrick’s weary look coming the other way, and smiled in amusement. Yeah, he had a suspicion that Rick was going to be wearing Greg as a human shaped scarf before very long, horror movies being a wonderful excuse for a hug, and hell, Warrick always did like to accessorise.
“I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll read in a book in the bedroom,”
That managed to grab both of their attention. Greg stared at him in bewilderment for a moment, as though waiting for the punch line to a joke, then glanced at Warrick.
“Is that Nick talk for ‘I’m gonna check if Grissom’s got the bathroom door locked’ or is he genuinely going to go off and read?” the word was said in such a manner that Nick might as well have said he was just off to molest a poodle. Warrick gave the smallest of snorts, and then shook his head.
“Pass me a beer on your way out, ‘kay?” he aimed toward Nick.
“Me too,” Greg added cheerfully.
“No.” Warrick’s voice was mild, but firm.
“No gummie bears, no beer, you’re beginning to sound like my mother,” Greg folded his arms crossly. Nick looked at him curiously.
“Greg, you do know you could just go get one?” he said slowly. “The whole pecking order kinda stops when we sign out.”
“You could go get me one instead,” Greg seized on a compromise. Warrick snorted again.
“You dare, bro, and I’m gonna be having words with you,” his voice was remarkably pleasant and yet remarkably sincere. Greg rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb back.
“See? Dangerous voice. That’s why I’m listening to Mr No Fun over here,” he sighed dramatically, then perked up. “Can I have some popcorn instead? And aren’t you kinda the wrong person to be saying things about the pecking order, considering what you’re doing with Griss?”
Nick looked down at himself, then up in bewilderment. “Greg, I’m standing right here. If I’m doing things with Griss, he normally has to be in the same room as me, remember?”
The two other men exchanged a knowing glance, then Warrick slid further onto the couch and Greg offered him a friendly, ‘just between us’ wink. Nick frowned harder.
“I’m not planning to do anything,” he objected. “Remember?”
“Yeah,” Warrick drawled without taking his eyes off the screen. “We remember what you said. Or what you kinda said.”
“But we’re also thinking of ‘actions speak louder than words’..,” Greg chimed in, sliding off the perch on the arm onto the couch and almost onto Warrick’s lap. The youngest member of the group gave another winning grin, then snuggled – there was no other word for it – closer to the long suffering Warrick, who merely gave him an indulgent look and a ruffle of short, spiky hair. And oh yeah, that bit of affection was perfectly timed as well. Nick growled softly, and stalked to the kitchen where a beer was pulled grudgingly out of the fridge. After a short pause, another one was pulled out as well. He might be reading in his room, but at least he could have a drink at the same time.
“Thanks, man,” Warrick said lazily as the beer can was tossed at him. “Sure you’re not going to join us?”
The television decided to interrupt with a long, drawn out film scream and a low growl that seemed to cause the floor to vibrate. Nick winced. The day had been long enough already, and now Greg seemed determined to scare the shit out of him as well. Horror films were fine in their place, but not when they had their own personal stalker on their case at the time; as far as Nick was concerned, he’d already had his share as it was.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved his hand with the beer and turned on his heel just as the actress decided to give another ear splitting scream. Nick flinched, then scooped up an apple on the way to the designated bedroom. He could hear the sound from the shower as he passed, the tone of the water on the tray stating that a body was in the way of it, and tried to forget exactly whowas currently inside. They had showers all the time in the lab, not least because the stink often came with the job; however, it all seemed a little .. closer. As though the walls had disappeared and he could see everything.
Growling to himself, Nick headed on into the bedroom with his apple, beer and book. This whole situation was for a few days, nothing more. He didn’t have to come to any decisions immediately.
At all.
Fuck, that shower was loud. It was like a drill, boring into him, putting holes in his concentration and making the words jump around the page like psychotic kangaroos. By the time it finally finished, Nick had drunk most of his beer and stripped his apple to the core, looking at some of the scientific diagrams in the book as though they might actually make sense if he stared them into submission.
“Good book?” the soft words came from the doorway, causing Nick to jump and stare upwards in shock. He breathed out and gave his visitor a rueful smile, turning his gaze back to the page and willing himself to forget the fact that Gil was in a bathrobe and probably very little else. Wet. Hot. Smelling faintly of soap. His muscles relaxed from the water and fuck, Nick was in trouble, he told himself firmly as he slapped himself mentally. There were things you thought about your boss, and those really weren’t it.
“Yeah. That journal I was talking to you about last week? Came through yesterday,” Nick offered him a ‘no problem here’ smile and resettled on the bed. After a little pause, he glanced up again, trying to work out what to say. The conversation topics felt relatively limited after a shower, but to talk about the shower itself then leached back into thoughts of what Gil was doing in said shower, and that was getting into dangerous waters. Okay, he suspected that the creator of that phrase was thinking more of whirlpools and storms and deep waters and sharks rather than soap and rubber duckies, but hell, lethal was just a matter of opinion and context.
“Is it good you’re on your own, or do you have a problem with monster films?” Gil raised an eyebrow, apparently in no hurry to move away from the doorframe.
“Hard to concentrate when people are screaming every two seconds,” Nick chose the less cowardly explanation. “And that’s just Greg,”
That gained a little smirk in response, Gil looking back towards the living room, then back again.
“Yes. Although Warrick seems to be looking after him well enough,” the words were mildly spoken, although the implication managed to lower the journal a few centimetres. Nick eyed him carefully.
“Warrick’s a careful kinda guy,”
“Yes. And I would imagine their relationship also makes that a little easier,” Gil agreed, and then frowned as Nick coughed in shock. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Nick agreed, still breathless. “Uh. Didn’t realise that you knew,”
“Was I not supposed to know?” Gil looked perplexed. “Catherine seems to be a little concerned over it,”
“Yeah? Well, I guess Catherine got shocked over a few touches here and there, so the whole sex part is probably gonna get her seriously flustered-,” Nick trailed off as Gil turned to look at him in stunned shock. “…. Uh…,”
There was a little pause as their minds readjusted to the situation. Gil stepped through the doorway and slowly shut the door behind him with a little click, before moving closer to the bed.
“You’re saying that they’re actually sleeping with each other?” Gil’s voice still hadn’t slipped out of mildness, although his eyes had taken on the Grissom hardness that normally accompanied serious thought and concentration. Nick swallowed.
“Well.. not exactly now..,”
“Trying to deflect the question by being literal isn’t going to help you, Nicky,” Gil smiled at him, although the hard gaze was still unnerving. “And I’m assuming by that slightly pleading look you’re currently wearing that the answer is yes. How long has it been going on for?”
Nick shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, man, I just .. well, I don’t exactly have their diaries, y’know?”
“So you know this how, exactly? Perhaps you were mistaken,” Gil cocked his head to one side, and for a split second Nick had the thought that Gil was desperately after him to confirm that it had all been a nasty mistake and he’d misunderstood a little tussle over the coffee for something unsuitably erotic. He sighed, and shrugged.
“Yeah. Guess I could have been,”
“But you don’t think so,” Gil sighed. “You saw them? One of them told you?”
Nick shrugged helplessly, then sighed and looked back in his journal. “Let’s just say it’s correct and leave it at that, boss,”
“I’m in your bedroom wearing a bathrobe, and you know I dislike you calling me boss at the best of times. Gil will do.” Gil spoke idly, the distance in his eyes stating firmly that his mind was elsewhere. Nick shrugged again.
“Point taken.” he watched him over the top of the journal. “Uh. This gonna be a problem? The sex bit, not the bathrobe.”
“I guess not, in the great scheme of things.” A weary sigh accompanied that. “Catherine’s spoken to you about this ‘meeting’ she wants us to have?”
“Um.” Suddenly the bed felt like it had been crafted out of glass and nails. Nick shifted awkwardly, and felt the traitorous blush creep to his cheeks. “Yeah. It was kinda mentioned in passing by Warrick,”
“Warrick?” Gil’s eyes narrowed. “He’s eager to do this?”
Nick shrugged again, a movement that was slowly becoming a nervous tick. “I guess so. Explore things, anyway. As is Greg, apparently.”
“Really?” the word was dragged out, teased by Gil’s tongue into one that spoke far too much.
“Uh-huh.” Nick looked down at his journal again, but the words swam in front of his nose like particularly energetic fish as his heart beat slowly increased. Please, God, no. Don’t even go there-
“And your opinion on it is..?”
Fuck. Thanks, God. Must have got your answer phone.
“Opinion?” Nick turned a page without having taken in a single word, as though the page turning might in some way move them onto a different conversation. “On what?”
“The meeting. Were you going to go?” Gil spoke as though it was a simply question on what flavour donut he was going to eat, his patience ridiculously obvious. Nick flashed him a glance, and then looked back at the page again. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
“I hadn’t decided,” he said after a few moment’s pause, then heard his own traitorous voice adding slightly bitterly. “We’re not supposed to ‘date’. No long term issues,”
Gil’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re basing your decision on what we’re ‘supposed’ to do? Who creates this concept of right and wrong?”
Nick growled softly, and glared at his page. “Probably society. I haven’t really been keeping track, y’know?”
“Then perhaps you should?” Gil spoke quietly. “Because it certainly shouldn’t be based on that discussion we had immediately after the event.”
“Hey, man, if you want to start preaching to me, you’d best get off the fence first,” Nick gave him a weary look. “If you haven’t worked out what you want then-,”
“Oh, I have,” Gil confirmed, again using his ridiculously soft, unintentionally sexy voice that Gil always seemed to use whenever he was busy crushing through a few of Nick’s mental barriers. “I just don’t want to influence what you decide. What you want to do should be what you genuinely want, not other people.”
Nick bristled. “Well, thanks very much for the pep talk, boss” the title was purposefully drawled as a minor step towards rebellion. “But I kinda worked that one out myself. And I haven’t decided yet. What, we got a deadline for this or something?”
He tossed the book onto the mattress, keeping his gaze on Grissom. Trouble was, Grissom rarely looked away and suddenly Nick found himself in a staring match he hadn’t quite intended. Warrick, at least, rarely kept eye contact more than a few moments, and Greg always turned immediately sheepish. Yeah, Griss was a pain.
“Anyway, aren’t we supposed to keep the risks to a minimum?” Nick added, seizing on a better weapon. “Us meeting up for a sexual marathon every few days is probably going to be easily discovered if someone’s looking for it, and hell, the whole department is keeping an eye on us in case we all end up on the mortuary table!”
Gil gave a little nod of his head that seemed to be performed almost entirely with his eyes. “Yes. But it doesn’t stop the decision itself. It merely delays what we do afterwards.”
Nick studied him harder. “You’re actually considering doing this, aren’t you?” he said in faint disbelief, the evidence in front of his eyes clashing with his own mental image of what Grissom would want. Sex was all very well, but it was almost a means to an end for Gil rather than an event that was a necessity; the chocolate cake of the diet rather than the potato. “You’d not be here talking about it if there wasn’t a chance that you weren’t going to do it. It just wouldn’t even occur to you,”
That managed to hit a nerve, which was news to Nick as he hadn’t even realised that Gil had nerves to strike. There was the slightest wince in the other man’s eyes, and Nick felt a stab of guilt that he had put it there.
“If we did anything, I’d want to know that you were perfectly happy with the situation in your own right rather than feeling obligated to do so simply because everyone else is-,”
“Okay, listen up, I am not a sheep!” Nick snarled back.
“Well, good, I’m not really into bestiality, although sometimes I do wonder about Greg,”
Nick snorted a soft laugh despite himself, then leaned back and rested his head against the headboard. One hand rubbed the back of his neck as he stared upwards, trying to gather his thoughts, before he reluctantly looked back at Gil and offered him a rueful smile.
“I’m not a sheep,” he repeated softly. “I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need anyone holding my hand. If I did this, you guys are seriously going to have to put this whole ‘innocent Nick Stokes’ out of your head, ‘kay? If you’re going to worry about anyone, worry about Greg. He’d get himself broken,”
“If we did this,” Gil said softly. “I’d be worried about everyone, not just Greg. Although worried is the wrong word. Concerned. Protective. Although I do have another question for you.”
“Just one?” Nick gave him a weary look. “You turning into Columbo?”
Grissom frowned. “Is that an explorer I’m unaware of?”
“The television detective rather than … oh, never mind. Shoot.” Nick shook his head, then settled back and watched him carefully, trying to read every flicker in the other man’s eyes. Gil paused, then clearly mentally shrugged the comment, and refocused on his current target.
“From what I understand of the situation, and indeed what’s been happening between Warrick and Greg, the focus appears to be mostly sexual. Taking things further,” Gil was watching him unsettlingly closely, although Nick guessed that any talk about sex with a boss was going to be unsettling in some way. It was like having a parent discover a porn mag during the teenage years and then decide to have the mortifying birds and bees talk.
“Yeah. And?”
“Not everything we did that night was directly sexual. I simply want to know whether you’re considering the group as simply some type of .. well, sex club, I guess… or whether you’re interested in replicating what we did that night,” Gil said softly. “Or at least in some form. Making the fiction a reality.”
Nick was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he discovered that his throat had become uncomfortably dry.
“You’re asking me whether I’m up for all the collars and whips and ‘yes, sir’ we did before? Putting our trust in you and each other?” he rubbed the back of his neck again, and then growled softly and looked across at his book for something to do that wasn’t looking into the soul-searching eyes that were across from him. He felt the mattress dip as Gil lowered himself to the end of it, a movement that seemed ridiculously parental despite the fact that it was the most logical thing that Gil could do. Nick looked up and scowled automatically, hating the question itself.
“I don’t know.” Nick said finally. “I just don’t know.”
Gil tilted his head, his eyes remarkably unassuming. “Let’s put it a different way. Would you be interested in a sex group without it?”
“I …,” Nick hesitated. Without the bondage and group dynamics, it simply turned itself into something .. well, casual. Messy. Socially awkward. He growled softly, and looked away again.
“That sounds like a no.” Gil said softly.
“If I was just after the sex, man, I could do it on a day by day basis, y’know?” Nick’s voice had definitely developed a rougher element to it. “Find a relationship, stick to it, yadda yadda yadda.”
“And you’re not worried about the homosexuality involved?” Gil pressed, but it wasn’t pressing, not really, merely someone who was voicing his own thoughts. Or at least that was what Nick knew it was supposed to be like; there was never anything casual about the way Gil’s mind worked, and for all his occasional social faux-pas he knew damned well how to tease out the answers he wanted from people who didn’t even know themselves. Nick snorted softly, and then shook his head, focusing on the book once more.
“No.” he answered quietly. “I know I should do, but I don’t. Not when it’s with us. Anyone else, yeah, ain’t happening, but when it’s with the group…,” Nick sighed softly, and looked up, knowing his eyes were wretched and not having the faintest power to stop it. “.. I dunno, man, it just feels like it’s natural, y’know? We trust each other with our lives every day. When it’s up against a bullet in the brain, sharing pleasure afterwards is kinda just .. well, small fry. But it shouldn’t be.”
“Because that’s not how you see yourself?” Gil’s question was softly spoken, giving Nick a few moments to get his mind into gear before asking. Nick chuckled again ruefully, returning his gaze to the book.
“Kinda. Parents probably wouldn’t kill me, but hell, it would be ‘awkward’ if it came out. And it’s not as though I’m up for junking in my past life. I like women. Always have. Probably always will. Girl in a cheerleading outfit still gets me, y’know? Well, you might not know.. but, well, just trust me on that.” Nick sighed and allowed his head to tip back again. “It just doesn’t seem to clash on what else I like.”
“You’re bisexual.”
“I dunno, man, I ..,” Nick shook his head slowly. “It’s not as though I can pick up a magazine, see a good looking guy and think, ‘wow’. Sure, I can tell what’s good looking and what’s not, but as for other reactions, then .. well, I’d have to try for it.”
He knew damned well a steady flush was rising to his cheeks and was busy fighting it down. A war that was destined not to be won. Nick growled again in frustration, then looked across at Gil. “So.. you saying you’re gay?”
There was a little pause at that, and then a small smile aimed itself at him, Gil’s eyes twinkling in amusement in such a manner that managed to light up his entire face. “Let’s just say I’m flexible. Each circumstance is different, and each scene needs its own assessment. You can’t fit the same model to each and every gun murder,”
Nick’s brow creased slightly. “So that’s an ‘undecided’?”
Grissom chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could call it that. Attractiveness isn’t just a list of set things. What I find attractive in one man might be entirely different to the next, just as I may be seeing something different in a woman. The team here is a good case in point.”
“Yeah?”
Gil tilted his head. “Think on it. In a way, we all represent very different elements of personality, and what attracts me to you,” here Nick’s blush found a whole new fuel source. “isn’t the same thing that attracts me to Warrick, or Greg. I would imagine that you would be the same,”
“So..,” Nick licked his drying bottom lip. “what .. uh,”
“.. am I attracted to you with?” Gil’s eyes danced again, then he fell silent, clearly assessing Nick in front of him. “Your kindness. You’re a good man, Nick, and it shines through. I suspect it’s what fuels your ‘innocence’, as you call it. You believe in people, and in this line of work that’s refreshing to see. You have a sensitivity that I doubt I will ever understand, but that’s a gift all in its own. You have strength and courage that sometimes you don’t even realise yourself. And then, of course, you are a very pretty boy,”
“Uh,” Nick felt himself reach lava temperatures. Gil watched him for a moment, then chuckled and slowly slipped from the mattress.
“Get some sleep. We’ll speak more tomorrow.” he said it in such a kind way that Nick almost felt the physical pat on the head, and scowled after him as Gil left the room. As though he could possibly sleep after that. Grissom always was an optimist.
And hell, Nick didn’t want to know what his dreams would contain tonight.
TBC
Rating: NC17
Setting: CSI Vegas
Summary: When a tip off suggests that there may be murderous films being produced and distributed in Vegas, the male members of the CSI team try an undercover stunt to recover more evidence. However, their tenuous foray into the BDSM scene leads to unexpected and occasionally unwelcome discoveries within the group itself.
Please check tags for past chapters
With massive thanks to Staci for beta-duties ^^
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fanarts_series. *
“Let me get this straight,” Gil’s voice was steady even to him, but he knew he couldn’t quite remove the incredulous tone to it. “You want us all to gather at Lady Heather’s for a social gathering to discuss whether we all want to continue our bondage role-playing in our spare time? Does this not seem odd to you, that firstly the suggestion has even come up and secondly that it’s you, the person who opposed the scene in the first place, who’s suggesting it?”
Catherine shrugged carelessly, her eyes cool and unwavering on his.
“You always did say that none of us are who we appear to be on the outside.” she replied. “And I like to be practical. I said that the event was going to have a lasting effect outside of that one time, and it has. Acceptance of a fact doesn’t make me like the fact itself. I don’t like murders, that doesn’t mean I have to deny the crime scene.”
Gil leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen in his hands as he stared back at her. There had been no question that Catherine had been prowling around, watching their movements, and often dragging Warrick off for a ‘private chat’. However, he had simply assumed said chat had revolved around a verbal slap for Warrick’s current habit of hanging around the department rather than being on field work. The possibility that she had been both interrogating Warrick and forming her own method of attack hadn’t occurred to him, although that had clearly been a mistake. Catherine didn’t sit back and let things happen to her. She was a force of nature all by herself.
Then again, forces of nature had never really gained a reputation for thinking before acting.
“It’s been slightly over a week.” Gil said delicately. “I know you can be a little impatient, but I hardly call that ‘lasting effect’, in the same way I would consider a marriage proposal after two weeks a little on the hasty side. If there is a problem, it’s an infatuation, nothing more.”
“If?” Catherine raised an eyebrow. “There’s an ‘if’ now?”
That warranted a sigh. “Well, let’s view it in context, shall we? We’re talking about three young men in their prime, no medical conditions to suggest that their sex drive has been diminished, and everything to suggest that the graveyard shift often means that their social lives suffer. Essentially, you’d say they don’t get out enough.” Gil shrugged slightly. “That they might look to each other briefly for sexual pleasure doesn’t mean anything, and at this point I haven’t seen anything to suggest any of them have gone past the ‘looking’ stage.”
“Then let’s not look at the boys and let’s focus on you, shall we?” Catherine seemed completely undisturbed by Gil’s comments, her eyes just as sharp and focused as they had been at the start. “You enjoyed that scene, and you enjoyed doing it specifically with them, enough-,” she added when Gil opened his mouth to protest. “-that you’ve been fawning over them at work.”
“I have not been fawning over them-,”
“You let Greg have his music on the other day and shared jokes with him. And you were so close to Warrick whilst he was changing that you could have swapped clothes.” Catherine’s voice was brisk. “And let’s not forget that sappily soft expression that enters into your eyes whenever Nick opens his mouth and drawls something in that honey-rich accent of his.”
Gil’s fingers drummed on the desk impatiently. “I can’t see how any of that suggests there’s a problem.”
“If you mean, will that behaviour get you a reprimand on your record then no, I’d agree with you.” Catherine gave a nod in agreement. “But can you look at yourself and say there’s absolutely nothing behind those gestures?”
There was silence for a few moments as they studied each other, neither moving. Grudgingly, Gil put down the pen. “It’s not uncommon for the boss to have a slight crush on the secretary.”
“Is that what this is, Gil? A slight crush?” Catherine pressed. “Look, I’m all for romance, you know that, but you and I both know what happens when things are allowed to continue without addressing the root problem. You guys either have to accept it and act on it, or choose to go your separate ways and we work out a way to limit the damage. And since the easiest path is going to be the separate ways thing, even if your minds are travelling in a different direction, I want you to properly explore what you’re turning down before you guys declare your disinterest and then end up in a compromising position behind the bike sheds.”
“We don’t have bike sheds-,”
“Well, we should do, environmentally friendly and better for my dramatic speeches,” Catherine leaned back in her chair. “Look, Gil, I just want to mitigate the damage here. We could wait, sure, only you and I both know that if something happens, it’s going to be pretty damned impressive. You have to have the right equipment to do dangerous sports, you can’t just walk up to a cliff and hurl yourself off it.”
“Still, I think you’re jumping the gun.” Gil rotated the chair slightly, rocking it back and forth and earning himself an exasperated sigh from Catherine, who began to prowl around the office irritably. “If we still have this infatuation after a few months, then perhaps, perhaps we could investigate whether we want to try something else. And at this point-,”
“Gil-,” Catherine had paused, still looking at some of the piles of paperwork he had yet to go through. Typical. Trying to interrupt and not even having the common decency to glare at him whilst she did it. And it wasn’t even as though his own mind was confident on what he was saying; it was merely what he was supposed to say, the supervisor in him coming to the front, and the ‘responsibility’ taking over.
He was not going to think on meetings. He couldn’t.
“- no, you’ve had your dramatic speech, it’s time for mine.” Gil sighed. “At this point perhaps I can… discourage them. I might well have been treating them a little differently, considering what happened. A slightly stricter working place might be the way forwards.”
“Gil-,”
“Although I will have to make sure that they know it’s not their fault,” Gil was lost in his own thoughts, frowning at that consideration. “I don’t want them to feel punished by it all. On the other hand-,”
“Gil!”
Gil admitted defeat, although the sigh he gave was irritable. “What?”
There was the smallest of pauses, and then Catherine looked up at him with a bewildered expression. One slim, neatly painted nail indicated the pile of paperwork. “Your post is .. bleeding,”
Gil frowned at her harder before looking at where the finger was pointing. And sure enough, a dark brown-red stain was slowly blossoming through paper to leave a particularly morbid pattern on his usually dull administration. An eyebrow rose curiously, and Gil slowly stood, walking to the pile and bending down to assess it.
“Hmmm. Now that is interesting.”
And it was destined to get a little more interesting as time went on, but then unexplained blood stains had a tendency to do so. It was their nature, after all. Just as it was in the nature of the department to take a dim view on such things.
Life was harsh sometimes.
*
The message from Blake came through on the mobile later that day. Gil hadn’t been expecting anything else; if the world was destined to produce complications then the world tended to save them all up for one particular day. Perhaps it was simply to give people choice in their method of destruction. However, it was also destined to make the department jumpier than they would have been had the organ been on its own, which was likely to cause problems for all concerned. Nervous people often made mistakes, often taking things to extremes, and from the look on Jim Brass’ face as he walked around the office, he was certainly not planning to disappoint. Gil waited as Brass prowled around the office, reading the transcript for the fifth time with a scowl so deep that it could almost be considered a facial canyon.
“There’s no address.” Brass said finally, crossly. “Just the date.”
Gil gave a little shrug in acknowledgement that words had been spoken. There was no reason to make any comment on what Brass had just said of course, the words not meant for a general discussion but simply allowing Jim the opportunity to run things through his mind and to relieve a little of the frustration. Brass paced a little further, and then looked at Gil in annoyance.
“So exactly what are they expecting us to do on this date? Hold a party? Get a cake?”
“I would imagine that they’re expecting us to meet them at the Dominion. A safe area, somewhere neutral to meet and travel together,” Gil spoke softly.
“Well, that’s more than useless.” Brass growled in irritation. “No one’s going to meet him. Anything on the phone he used?”
“A disposable one.” Gil delivered that information, although the facial canyon failed to get any deeper. Apparently this was a fact that Brass had already considered. “And there may be something else connected with the case. We had a kidney delivered through the post to my office. No note. Fresh. Lamb’s, from the look of it,”
Brass aimed him a look. “Someone’s sending you bits of animal through the post? That happen all the time?”
Gil allowed a slight smile for that. “Thankfully not. The juices had already seeped through two forms and one of Sara’s reports before Catherine noticed it.”
“Catherine noticed it? It’s your office, and presumably addressed to you. Any chance that you’ll start noticing your own post?” Brass rolled his eyes then sighed and looked at the note again. “D’you think it’s connected to your man here?”
“I hope not.” Gil spoke quietly. “If he’s sending me organs through the post to my work address, then he clearly knows who I am. And who the others are,”
That caught Brass’ attention. The note lowered suspiciously. “You think there’s any risk involved? I can get uniform to-,”
“No.” Gil spoke firmly but softly, his eyes resting on Brass’. “Perhaps a panic button installed, but uniforms going to attract too much attention, especially if goes on for several nights. And, after all, we don’t even have a crime to attach it to.”
Brass grunted, and then waved the paper. “Can get them and file it under harassment. Stands to reason you guys are likely to get the nutters with a vengeance to fulfil.”
“That’s a comforting thought.”
“It’s not supposed to be comforting.” Brass pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and then let them fall with a sigh. “Okay. I’m assuming you’ve got some little plan already worked out in your head, you always do.”
“I could meet them-,”
“No. Next?”
Gil’s eyes narrowed. “If we don’t get an address, we lose what we’ve accomplished.”
“If we start dancing to other people’s tunes, we risk doing the tango when we’re supposed to be doing the salsa.” Brass shook his head. “Answer’s still no, Gil. If this wasn’t one of your little missions that dealt with an area of your own personal interest, you wouldn’t have even asked me that.”
That warranted a suspicious look back in return. “Personal interest?”
“You know what I mean. You and Lady Heather’s house of General Alarm. The study of human social interaction, or whatever you kids are calling it nowadays. Every time you think about those toys she’s got in there, your eyes sparkle.” Brass eyed him then sighed. “Yeah, kinda like that.”
Gil’s fingers drummed impatiently, deciding not to comment on Brass’ accusations. Too many protests were likely to ruin his argument as much as no protest at all, and it wasn’t as though they didn’t have enough topics to distract it onto a different line of conversation. “What’s your suggestion?”
“At this stage, I’m not sure I have one. No leads, no crime, nothing on your boy Blake other than a few misdemeanours that pop up regularly with his type of businessman..,” Brass frowned harder at the paper. “We might have to let this one go, Gil.”
“No.”
“Yeah, well, until we get hold of a decent Plan A then we’re officially screwed. If he’s got some sort of basement holding area, it’s in someone else’s name and I don’t need to tell you how many storage bays are around the Vegas area that could fit.” Brass shook his head. “Okay, okay, I’ll see what I can do. You never know, someone might have screwed up somewhere. You just make sure you and your team are safe,”
Gil tilted his head in agreement, his eyes already distant. The concept of making his team safe had always been forefront of his mind, and now, with a possible and genuine threat on the horizon, he genuinely had to do something before someone got hurt. Theories only really worked when people had time to think. There was no question on how he wanted to tackle it either, although hell, it clashed badly with every sensible thought in his mind.
A slightly stricter working place might be the way forwards..
Treating them differently.
A crush…
Gil smiled to himself ruefully. No, having the group in close quarters to him was not the best way to resolve an infatuation, but then his instincts weren’t giving him much of an option. They needed protection, and Gil was not intending to pass that task to someone else on the hope that they might do things well. Trying to stick to protocol might be the best thing professionally, but useless if it put them in danger as a result.
“Gil?” Brass’ voice cut through his thoughts. “You okay?”
Gil smiled to himself ruefully, then refocused on the detective. “I’m fine,” he said delicately. “Shall we discuss practicalities?”
And with the practicalities came the ability to kill two birds with one stone. Catherine would be so proud.
*
“We’re staying over where?” Greg looked from one face to another, a completely bewildered expression in his eyes. Gil leaned back in his chair and watched the others carefully.
“A rented apartment for a few days as a safety precaution.” he replied as idly as he could. “There’s a possibility that Blake might well have worked out who we are. If the kidney was from him, then it might well be a threat against us.”
“And if it isn’t from him, we’ve got some other psycho on our case, or is it just someone who thinks we’re not getting enough iron in our diet?” Sara pointed out dryly. “Sounds a fun evening. Catherine and I don’t have to share with you lot, do we? Because, no offence guys other than Greg, I kinda like my space, and if I want to walk out naked from a shower, I want that luxury,”
There was a pause as several pairs of eyes surveyed her in interest. Sara sighed irritably.
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it, I just want to be able to do it if I want,”
“I doubt whether anyone’s going to object if anyone walks out naked from the shower,” Greg piped up cheerfully. “Unless there’s puddles of water everywhere.”
Catherine was busy studying the note with the same frown that Brass had worn, ignoring the other’s discussion around her. Finally her eyes lifted, carefully putting down the memo onto the table as though it had actually come from the man himself rather than Gil having jotted it down, and then resting her hands carefully on the table.
“Accommodation is easy,” she said in the pause between the younger members discussing bathroom etiquette, her eyes trained on Gil. “I’m a little more interested in what you’ve been planning for this date.”
A finger landed squarely in the centre of the note, Catherine’s gaze unwavering as she looked back at him. Gil’s eyebrow lifted slightly. Clearly Brass and Catherine’s minds had been corrupted over the years into a particularly good example of ‘suspect Gil of everything’.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
That snapped the others into the conversation, and it certainly wasn’t one that Gil had wanted them to enter into either. Warrick frowned at him with his typical critical expression to suggest he thought that one or more of his immediate supervisors were teetering on the edge of full insanity, flicking his gaze at Catherine before allowing it to return to Gil. He leaned back with his usual gesture that suggested lazy insolence, and then raised an eyebrow of his own.
“No one’s actually gonna meet this guy, right? It’s all uniform’s job now,” he said slowly.
“There hasn’t been a decision on what will happen yet,” Gil repeated mildly, although he could feel a tick occurring in his lower jaw. Warrick’s frown deepened.
“Unnecessary risk, man,” he shrugged.
“I dunno,” Nick interrupted, looking around the table. “Blake’s either gonna be dangerous or he’s just a particularly rough client for these sort of games, right? If he’s dangerous, then he can be taken down before anything happens. If he’s just poor at the social small-talk, then whoever goes can say ‘no thanks’ and walk out the door. Hell, we’re not exactly going to mind if we’re off the Christmas card list, are we?”
“You’re not offering,” Catherine’s voice was light, sweet and made of steel. An exasperated look crossed Nick’s eyes as he gave her a sulky look.
“I don’t have to offer. Griss could do this by himself if he wanted to, although he should really take at least one of us with him,” he argued. “Just say he’s going to check out the venue and then he’d pick one of us up afterwards. Seems a reasonable precaution for any normal bloke who’s been offered a snuff film scene, right? You’re not just going to assume the place is fine.”
“Nick’s got a point,” Sara drummed her fingers on the table, and earned herself a pleased, thankful grin from Nick. Catherine gave them a look that suggested she was two seconds away from shoving them both in a cupboard and locking the door, and then turned her mutinous expression onto Gil.
“No.”
Gil said nothing, watching the conversation as it rolled around the table. Warrick still had a particularly guarded expression on his face that spoke of his distaste for the discussion. Sara wore her usual argumentative frown that always turned up whenever someone disagreed with her plans, and Nick was a strange mix of emotions, reluctance blended with the strength he always had whenever he thought the ‘bad guys’ might get away. Greg was looking slightly bewildered, glancing around the table as though he had completely missed a joke.
“Uh,” the youngest member of the table spoke up. “Say we do this. What happens if we lose the person who gets sent to the location?”
“We don’t lose them.” Sara and Nick managed to chorus the answer together. Greg waved that little harmony off with a hand.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s Plan A, but what happens if there’s something weird happening? You know, like a radio transmission gets blocked by some interference, or the people following them miss where they’ve turned off, or even if you get to a location, there’s danger, there’s a fire fight, and when we – the Good Guys, white hats and all – manage to get into the building, then the Big Bad Guy has vanished off out the back with whoever it is who went. Or has shot them in the head, straight away.” Greg hesitated, and then looked apologetically at Gil. “Hey, what happens if that organ is from Blake, who knows who you are, and is just waiting to get you alone so he can extract revenge from your helpless, bound body-,”
“You were watching that slasher horror film fest yesterday, weren’t you?” Sara sighed.
“Well, yes, but art reflects life, right?” Greg shrugged. “If I was some bad killer and discovered the guy I’d been making friends with was a police operation, I’d be pretty fucked off.”
“And insane for trying to kill one of the police go to guys?” Nick shook his head. “Nah, man, if they think it’s risky then they just won’t turn up. I mean, who tries to kill someone who’s probably being followed by the police, especially if they’re trying to keep their head under the radar?”
“Someone with an ego the size of a mountain,” Catherine replied briskly. “And you know Vegas attracts that type of guy. They just don’t think they’ll be caught.”
“All the more reason to try to catch them!” Nick argued back, looking at Gil with a beseeching look that managed to turn Gil’s chair into a little torturous area to sit on as a firm throb hit in his groin. “C’mon, Gil, this is worth the risk.”
“No, it’s not, and don’t you start trying to sweet talk Grissom into your way of thinking, Nicholas.” Catherine growled. “Things got out of hand last time, and we were all there and watching, remember? If this time has knives and blood involved, there is no way I’m having any of my boys at that sort of risk,”
“It’s surely been a few years since I could be classified as a ‘boy’-,” Gil began when Catherine turned a laser sharp gaze on him.
“You’ve got testicles, you’ll do. And don’t give me that, Gil. If I find you..,” she paused and gave Nick a suspicious look. “.. any of you pulling this stunt then you’re going to find Blake is the least of your problems. Am I making myself clear? I mean it. Even if I have to get Brass to lock the pair of you up during that period of time, and you know damned well he will if I ask him to.”
“Cool. Prison role-play!” Greg said cheerfully, and then flinched as Catherine’s glare turned on him. “Uh, sorry.”
Nick folded his arms stubbornly, although he wisely kept his mouth shut. Warrick leaned back in his chair, his gaze calm and thoughtful as he looked back at Gil.
“So, where’s this apartment we’re supposed to go to?” he said, easily changing the subject with Warrick’s smooth manner. “And how long are we supposed to stay there for?”
“We’re still going to work as normal, right?” Greg butted in. “This is just ‘safety in numbers’ rather than quarantine?”
“I’d prefer not to say which apartment it is at this stage. We can all travel in one of the cars, there’s no need for anyone but the driver to know until we get there.” Gil replied. “There will be supplies already there. Unless there’s something vital you require, you won’t need to get luggage.”
Warrick’s critical expression grew more critical. “Supplies, huh? Sounds serious.”
“Different budget. We’re classified under ‘harassment’, so our expenses are covered. And no, this doesn’t mean takeout each and every day, Greg.” Gil added as the younger man perked up. Greg unperked.
“Aww! What’s the TV like? Cause I’ve got several series I watch, and there’s a whole monster film marathon on this weekend that I have to watch otherwise .. uh, well, I have to watch,” he turned a beaming smile onto Nick. “Hey, we can grab popcorn, have a session of it!”
Nick gave him a little smile back, but it was an automatic one while his mind was concerning itself with other matters. His dark eyes surveyed Gil carefully but his mouth remained closed, possibly in memory of how well Catherine could tear into him if required. Sara rolled her eyes.
“If we end up taking all your work for the next few days because of this I’m gonna be fucked off,” she complained. “I’ve got court tomorrow, I don’t need to be crawling around in a sewer pipe in the morning after bugs because you guys didn’t get up in time. Anyway, isn’t this like putting all your eggs in one basket? What happens if they track you down to this apartment and just, I don’t know, blow it up?”
“There’s no guarantee that the organ is linked. It may have some completely innocent reason,” Gil gave the smallest of shrugs.
“Uh, no offence boss, but I’m having real difficulty trying to think of an innocent reason for sending bits of raw meat through the post,” Greg frowned. “I personally prefer pizza. Or chocolates.”
“The package is being processed at the moment?” Catherine had been suspiciously quiet, her cool eyes still studying Gil with the look that clearly stated she thought he was up to something. Gil nodded.
“It’s been given to day shift to complete, since we’re all likely to be connected to it.” he replied. “Preliminary checks show a few fingerprints, but then the package has been delivered through the usual system. If there had been no prints at all, I’d be getting suspicious.”
“And this is getting reported to Ecklie rather than us? Or do we have access to the file in progress?” Catherine’s finger was tap-tapping on the table again. Gil shrugged and smiled at her.
“I suspect we may have a few questions aimed in our direction,”
“What, like the ‘do you recognise this kidney’ type of questions?” Greg blinked, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, the ‘do you have any enemies?’ one? Cause I don’t, if anyone wants to know. Well, that I know of, anyway. I mean, I am obviously a possible source of jealousy amongst the ranks given my stylish good looks, and then I might have forgotten someone’s birthday because my dog.. okay, next door’s dog .. ate my address book, which I didn’t think they actually did. And then-,”
“That apartment have a gag on order as well?” Warrick queried with a sigh. Greg’s eyes twinkled.
“Ooh, kinky!”
“Okay, let’s put kinky to one side, shall we?” Catherine leaned forward. “Let’s just focus on the primary stuff here. For the moment, you guys are staying in Apartment X, and the package is being examined. No one, and Gil, that includes both you and Nick, is going to take up this little offer that’s been given, we’ll leave it to Jim to sort out. We just get on with work as normal, and keep an eye for any unexplained activity, and don’t even think about it Greg.”
Greg shut his mouth with a disappointed little click and a little too obvious ‘awww’ in his eyes as the prospect of debating on what posed unexplained activity was removed from him. Catherine looked around the table.
“Okay, good. We’ll leave it there. Just be on your guard, there’s no guarantee this package is linked to Blake. Trust no one.”
“Ooh, X-files-,”
“Greg, I swear, one more ooh out of you and you’re going to have to worry about the people inside this department rather than outside it,” Catherine smiled at him sweetly. Greg snapped a salute, and then grinned sheepishly. Sara frowned thoughtfully, then raised her hand in the slow, deliberate way she had when she was knowingly making a point rather than actually asking for permission.
“Uh.. I have a question,” she looked around the table. “If they do start interviewing us, what the hell are we going to tell them? Because, and stop me if I’m wrong, the last thing that any of us want to do is to explain in detail to Ecklie’s team exactly how we know Blake and why he’s a problem, right? Because I doubt whether ‘undercover case’ would really stop them asking questions, and it wasn’t exactly official to begin with,”
There was a little period of silence following that. Gil watched the expressions that flowed around the table, keeping his own as textbook blank as he could without actually wearing a mask. Greg’s look of surprise, as though the question hadn’t quite managed to penetrate. Warrick’s wary look whenever he thought he was being herded into a trap. Nick’s darted look of anxiety before he tried to smother it under a shield of indifference. And Catherine’s sharp look, the mother with a knife whose children were being threatened.
“I’ll handle the questions,” Gil replied finally. “There’s nothing linking Blake to any one individual as far as the department is concerned, and therefore I should be able to answer anything they need.”
“Yeah? That why it’s only the men who have this swanky apartment?” Sara replied softly.
“We can explain that by using confidentiality,” Gil shrugged slightly. “Brass has the paperwork to cover it. If any of them start asking awkward questions, tell them that I have given you strict instructions to steer them back to me. You’re welcome to invent some type of threat I’ve told you to get you all to obey me, incidentally, I know how some of you dislike not being able to speak your minds when asked.”
“So, what, can’t tell you otherwise Grissom’s going to start poking needles under our fingernails?” Greg said slowly.
“I was thinking a little more about suspensions and lack of overtime, considering exactly how and where we met Mr Blake. The last things we need are hints of physical restraint.” Gil spoke as mildly as he could, still watching the flickers of animation on the other occupants’ faces. Greg flushed, then glanced at Nick who had become a poster boy for statues everywhere, then coughed softly.
“Yeah, guess so.” he mumbled. Nick scowled, a sulky, hunted expression showing in his eyes.
“Hey, man, it might not even happen,” he argued, clearly fighting his discomfort. “At this stage, it’s pretty much BS, right? Not much to go on, no actual threat. If they actually wanted to threaten us, I’m pretty damned sure human organs would get our attention quicker than something out of a butcher’s shop. What I’m saying here is that they probably won’t ask us all those questions because we’ve all got masses of cases, man, lots of resentment there. We start listing everyone who might have a problem with us, we’ll be there for a whole year. No way a team’s going to want to opening that can of worms unless they need to.”
“It’s Ecklie’s team,” Catherine tossed her hair back in the faintly determined way she always had whenever she was scenting a battle to fight. “You know what he’d do if he found this out. Any hint and he’ll use it.”
Warrick shifted in his chair lazily. “We’ll just keep our mouths shut,” he drawled. “Can’t undo history now. If stuff happens, we’ll deal with it then,”
“Exactly,” Nick gave Warrick’s arm a friendly slap on the bicep. “We’re cool.”
Gil found Nick’s particularly firm expression suddenly aimed at him, a strong, powerful look in the other man’s dark eyes that spoke pretty clearly of Nick’s determination to force things to be cool. The man might possess a little boy look of intense vulnerability, but that didn’t mean the person inside wasn’t as stubborn as a mule.
“Okay.” he allowed Nick his little closing moment of triumph. “We’ll leave it there. Any problems, speak to me. Any uncertainties, make sure you’re talking to either myself or Catherine. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, always make sure you’re in a group, and so on.”
“All that’s been said already,” Sara commented mildly.
“Then I’m saying it again.” Gil replied, just as calmly. “I don’t want any misunderstandings here. If I find anyone not taking this seriously, they will be on suspension until things are cleared. Possibly out of state. There’s a few conventions I can send people to.”
“Hey, since when was a convention some type of punishment?” Greg looked bewildered. “I wanna go!”
“Oh, it’s not the going that’ll be the punishment. It’ll be the coming back and facing me,” Catherine spoke up sweetly. Greg hesitated, and then squirmed.
“Uh. Oh. Yeah.” Greg offered her a rueful grin. Gil looked between them, and then gathered his papers up.
“Okay. That’ll do for today,” he said. “Let’s get on with the day and see how it goes. Meet back here at end of shift when it comes to the apartment,”
Gil had pushed himself up from the table relatively quickly, but he wasn’t quite quick enough to escape Catherine before they had left. Brushing past him, she looked at him steadily before leaning toward his ear.
“So, in this wonderful apartment of yours, are you going to be having separate bedrooms, or are you just going to arrange one massively large bed instead?” she murmured. “Oh, that’s right. You’re still in denial, aren’t you? It must be lovely this time of year,”
*
Nick drove. He insisted. There was something particularly important to him that his vehicle be the one that got them there and got them back, and he was touched to notice that his colleagues both understood and respected it. Perhaps it was the freedom it represented, or the fact that he knew the car was always there. Whatever it was, it made him one hell of a lot happier as he stood in the hallway and surveyed their new ‘home’ for the next three nights at least.
Out of the others, Greg was the only one who was highly enthusiastic about the whole thing. Despite the fact that he was still keeping one eye on Grissom’s whereabouts and level of eyebrow raise, there was still a certain amount of glee in the young man’s movements and in the way he investigated everything in the apartment, regardless of how small and insignificant.
There was, surprisingly, nothing small or insignificant about the size of the apartment. The living space had surprising amount of room, and the kitchen attached to it was much larger than the one that Nick was used to at home. There were only two bedrooms, but these were large rooms, both with twin beds that were a fatter example of their brand. Not that Nick particularly minded what size they were; he would have been happy on the couch if they had needed him to be there. A pillow and a mattress was definitely a luxury he hadn’t expected.
“So!” Greg looked at them expectantly, after inspecting the rooms and discovering the issue. “Who’s sharing with who?”
Which was a damned good question, really. Nick pursed his lips as he began to put some of the shopping they’d brought in the fridge, and tried not to look as though he was straining to hear the judgement. After a few moments of silence, he risked a look. Gil had a look on his face that spoke of calculation as he studied the bedroom doors. Greg had perched himself on the arm of one of the chairs, looking from Gil and then to Warrick and then back again. Warrick was another matter; an almost bored look had crossed his expression, although Nick was never fooled by that any more. Bored was one of Warrick’s decent game faces, a good ‘disinterested’ poise that he always seemed to take at gambling sessions and when a girl he liked was prowling around him, and it spoke volumes that the man hadn’t yet suggested his own preferences either.
Nick glanced at Gil again and ducked his head as their gazes met, getting back to putting the frozen yogurt where it was supposed to be. He guessed he probably should stick in his own opinions on what was happening with the rooms, but it seemed natural enough to leave it to Griss’ decision, their working authority sliding very easily into the apartment politics.
“Warrick, you’re with me,” Gil decided softly. “Greg, you’re with Nick.”
That announcement really shouldn’t have allowed him a quiet sigh of relief, and Nick was mortified at himself for having it. Gil wasn’t the enemy. He wasn’t even a man he wanted to avoid. He was a friend, one that was still uncomfortably special to him, and yet all of that still didn’t mean that Nick was going to relax if he was conscious of Grissom lying half naked on the other bed.
Nick winced to himself. Yeah, there was something uncomfortable with that admission as well. Thankfully, Greg was more than able to distract him away from it as the younger man strolled into the kitchen area and suddenly enveloped him in a bear hug that almost gave a death sentence to the last of the yogurt pots.
“Yay, we’re roomies! Can I have the bed nearest the window?”
“Sure, if you’ll give me room to breathe..?”
“Hmm? Oh, shit, sorry!” Greg hugged him again, a little harder, before releasing him and stealing a packet of what appeared to be Gummie Bears from the bag.
“Greg?” came Warrick’s rumble from where he had positioned himself on the couch. “Drop. I ain’ putting up with you on a sugar rush as well, ‘kay?”
There was a weary sigh, but the packet landed back onto the bag. Nick smiled ruefully and began to pack the rest away, looking up every so often at the others. Greg had returned back to the couch, although he had now perched himself next to Warrick. And then there was Gil, who hadn’t really moved much. Nick frowned slightly as he watched him, trying to place the expression that currently graced Gil’s face. It seemed to be slight bewilderment, as though the man had been expecting something in the room and it hadn’t quite turned out the way he had expected, although Nick had no idea why that would be. Or, perhaps, the man simply felt a little lost with so much socialisation in what was essentially their free time. If Griss was used to solitary silence as he mulled away at home, having three men hanging around the living room was going to be weird.
Nick finished his work and returned to the chairs, sinking down in one and feeling the cushions support his weight just as Greg discovered the remote for the television and switched it on. Greg glanced at Griss a little sheepishly.
“Uh, you got anything you want to watch, sir?”
“No. You choose, I’ll take a shower,” Gil smiled, but it was still the distant smile of one whose mind was elsewhere. “And don’t call me ‘sir’.”
“Yes, sir,” Greg gave him a winning smile, then a little ‘oof’ as Warrick’s fingertips found a spot just under Greg’s ribcage and poked it. Scowling at him sulkily and rubbing the spot, he looked up at the screen with wide eyes and the expression of a small child with something large, plastic and brightly coloured. “Oh! Monster mash Fest! More blood ‘n’ gore than you can wave a cleaver at!”
Nick met Warrick’s weary look coming the other way, and smiled in amusement. Yeah, he had a suspicion that Rick was going to be wearing Greg as a human shaped scarf before very long, horror movies being a wonderful excuse for a hug, and hell, Warrick always did like to accessorise.
“I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll read in a book in the bedroom,”
That managed to grab both of their attention. Greg stared at him in bewilderment for a moment, as though waiting for the punch line to a joke, then glanced at Warrick.
“Is that Nick talk for ‘I’m gonna check if Grissom’s got the bathroom door locked’ or is he genuinely going to go off and read?” the word was said in such a manner that Nick might as well have said he was just off to molest a poodle. Warrick gave the smallest of snorts, and then shook his head.
“Pass me a beer on your way out, ‘kay?” he aimed toward Nick.
“Me too,” Greg added cheerfully.
“No.” Warrick’s voice was mild, but firm.
“No gummie bears, no beer, you’re beginning to sound like my mother,” Greg folded his arms crossly. Nick looked at him curiously.
“Greg, you do know you could just go get one?” he said slowly. “The whole pecking order kinda stops when we sign out.”
“You could go get me one instead,” Greg seized on a compromise. Warrick snorted again.
“You dare, bro, and I’m gonna be having words with you,” his voice was remarkably pleasant and yet remarkably sincere. Greg rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb back.
“See? Dangerous voice. That’s why I’m listening to Mr No Fun over here,” he sighed dramatically, then perked up. “Can I have some popcorn instead? And aren’t you kinda the wrong person to be saying things about the pecking order, considering what you’re doing with Griss?”
Nick looked down at himself, then up in bewilderment. “Greg, I’m standing right here. If I’m doing things with Griss, he normally has to be in the same room as me, remember?”
The two other men exchanged a knowing glance, then Warrick slid further onto the couch and Greg offered him a friendly, ‘just between us’ wink. Nick frowned harder.
“I’m not planning to do anything,” he objected. “Remember?”
“Yeah,” Warrick drawled without taking his eyes off the screen. “We remember what you said. Or what you kinda said.”
“But we’re also thinking of ‘actions speak louder than words’..,” Greg chimed in, sliding off the perch on the arm onto the couch and almost onto Warrick’s lap. The youngest member of the group gave another winning grin, then snuggled – there was no other word for it – closer to the long suffering Warrick, who merely gave him an indulgent look and a ruffle of short, spiky hair. And oh yeah, that bit of affection was perfectly timed as well. Nick growled softly, and stalked to the kitchen where a beer was pulled grudgingly out of the fridge. After a short pause, another one was pulled out as well. He might be reading in his room, but at least he could have a drink at the same time.
“Thanks, man,” Warrick said lazily as the beer can was tossed at him. “Sure you’re not going to join us?”
The television decided to interrupt with a long, drawn out film scream and a low growl that seemed to cause the floor to vibrate. Nick winced. The day had been long enough already, and now Greg seemed determined to scare the shit out of him as well. Horror films were fine in their place, but not when they had their own personal stalker on their case at the time; as far as Nick was concerned, he’d already had his share as it was.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waved his hand with the beer and turned on his heel just as the actress decided to give another ear splitting scream. Nick flinched, then scooped up an apple on the way to the designated bedroom. He could hear the sound from the shower as he passed, the tone of the water on the tray stating that a body was in the way of it, and tried to forget exactly whowas currently inside. They had showers all the time in the lab, not least because the stink often came with the job; however, it all seemed a little .. closer. As though the walls had disappeared and he could see everything.
Growling to himself, Nick headed on into the bedroom with his apple, beer and book. This whole situation was for a few days, nothing more. He didn’t have to come to any decisions immediately.
At all.
Fuck, that shower was loud. It was like a drill, boring into him, putting holes in his concentration and making the words jump around the page like psychotic kangaroos. By the time it finally finished, Nick had drunk most of his beer and stripped his apple to the core, looking at some of the scientific diagrams in the book as though they might actually make sense if he stared them into submission.
“Good book?” the soft words came from the doorway, causing Nick to jump and stare upwards in shock. He breathed out and gave his visitor a rueful smile, turning his gaze back to the page and willing himself to forget the fact that Gil was in a bathrobe and probably very little else. Wet. Hot. Smelling faintly of soap. His muscles relaxed from the water and fuck, Nick was in trouble, he told himself firmly as he slapped himself mentally. There were things you thought about your boss, and those really weren’t it.
“Yeah. That journal I was talking to you about last week? Came through yesterday,” Nick offered him a ‘no problem here’ smile and resettled on the bed. After a little pause, he glanced up again, trying to work out what to say. The conversation topics felt relatively limited after a shower, but to talk about the shower itself then leached back into thoughts of what Gil was doing in said shower, and that was getting into dangerous waters. Okay, he suspected that the creator of that phrase was thinking more of whirlpools and storms and deep waters and sharks rather than soap and rubber duckies, but hell, lethal was just a matter of opinion and context.
“Is it good you’re on your own, or do you have a problem with monster films?” Gil raised an eyebrow, apparently in no hurry to move away from the doorframe.
“Hard to concentrate when people are screaming every two seconds,” Nick chose the less cowardly explanation. “And that’s just Greg,”
That gained a little smirk in response, Gil looking back towards the living room, then back again.
“Yes. Although Warrick seems to be looking after him well enough,” the words were mildly spoken, although the implication managed to lower the journal a few centimetres. Nick eyed him carefully.
“Warrick’s a careful kinda guy,”
“Yes. And I would imagine their relationship also makes that a little easier,” Gil agreed, and then frowned as Nick coughed in shock. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Nick agreed, still breathless. “Uh. Didn’t realise that you knew,”
“Was I not supposed to know?” Gil looked perplexed. “Catherine seems to be a little concerned over it,”
“Yeah? Well, I guess Catherine got shocked over a few touches here and there, so the whole sex part is probably gonna get her seriously flustered-,” Nick trailed off as Gil turned to look at him in stunned shock. “…. Uh…,”
There was a little pause as their minds readjusted to the situation. Gil stepped through the doorway and slowly shut the door behind him with a little click, before moving closer to the bed.
“You’re saying that they’re actually sleeping with each other?” Gil’s voice still hadn’t slipped out of mildness, although his eyes had taken on the Grissom hardness that normally accompanied serious thought and concentration. Nick swallowed.
“Well.. not exactly now..,”
“Trying to deflect the question by being literal isn’t going to help you, Nicky,” Gil smiled at him, although the hard gaze was still unnerving. “And I’m assuming by that slightly pleading look you’re currently wearing that the answer is yes. How long has it been going on for?”
Nick shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know, man, I just .. well, I don’t exactly have their diaries, y’know?”
“So you know this how, exactly? Perhaps you were mistaken,” Gil cocked his head to one side, and for a split second Nick had the thought that Gil was desperately after him to confirm that it had all been a nasty mistake and he’d misunderstood a little tussle over the coffee for something unsuitably erotic. He sighed, and shrugged.
“Yeah. Guess I could have been,”
“But you don’t think so,” Gil sighed. “You saw them? One of them told you?”
Nick shrugged helplessly, then sighed and looked back in his journal. “Let’s just say it’s correct and leave it at that, boss,”
“I’m in your bedroom wearing a bathrobe, and you know I dislike you calling me boss at the best of times. Gil will do.” Gil spoke idly, the distance in his eyes stating firmly that his mind was elsewhere. Nick shrugged again.
“Point taken.” he watched him over the top of the journal. “Uh. This gonna be a problem? The sex bit, not the bathrobe.”
“I guess not, in the great scheme of things.” A weary sigh accompanied that. “Catherine’s spoken to you about this ‘meeting’ she wants us to have?”
“Um.” Suddenly the bed felt like it had been crafted out of glass and nails. Nick shifted awkwardly, and felt the traitorous blush creep to his cheeks. “Yeah. It was kinda mentioned in passing by Warrick,”
“Warrick?” Gil’s eyes narrowed. “He’s eager to do this?”
Nick shrugged again, a movement that was slowly becoming a nervous tick. “I guess so. Explore things, anyway. As is Greg, apparently.”
“Really?” the word was dragged out, teased by Gil’s tongue into one that spoke far too much.
“Uh-huh.” Nick looked down at his journal again, but the words swam in front of his nose like particularly energetic fish as his heart beat slowly increased. Please, God, no. Don’t even go there-
“And your opinion on it is..?”
Fuck. Thanks, God. Must have got your answer phone.
“Opinion?” Nick turned a page without having taken in a single word, as though the page turning might in some way move them onto a different conversation. “On what?”
“The meeting. Were you going to go?” Gil spoke as though it was a simply question on what flavour donut he was going to eat, his patience ridiculously obvious. Nick flashed him a glance, and then looked back at the page again. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
“I hadn’t decided,” he said after a few moment’s pause, then heard his own traitorous voice adding slightly bitterly. “We’re not supposed to ‘date’. No long term issues,”
Gil’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re basing your decision on what we’re ‘supposed’ to do? Who creates this concept of right and wrong?”
Nick growled softly, and glared at his page. “Probably society. I haven’t really been keeping track, y’know?”
“Then perhaps you should?” Gil spoke quietly. “Because it certainly shouldn’t be based on that discussion we had immediately after the event.”
“Hey, man, if you want to start preaching to me, you’d best get off the fence first,” Nick gave him a weary look. “If you haven’t worked out what you want then-,”
“Oh, I have,” Gil confirmed, again using his ridiculously soft, unintentionally sexy voice that Gil always seemed to use whenever he was busy crushing through a few of Nick’s mental barriers. “I just don’t want to influence what you decide. What you want to do should be what you genuinely want, not other people.”
Nick bristled. “Well, thanks very much for the pep talk, boss” the title was purposefully drawled as a minor step towards rebellion. “But I kinda worked that one out myself. And I haven’t decided yet. What, we got a deadline for this or something?”
He tossed the book onto the mattress, keeping his gaze on Grissom. Trouble was, Grissom rarely looked away and suddenly Nick found himself in a staring match he hadn’t quite intended. Warrick, at least, rarely kept eye contact more than a few moments, and Greg always turned immediately sheepish. Yeah, Griss was a pain.
“Anyway, aren’t we supposed to keep the risks to a minimum?” Nick added, seizing on a better weapon. “Us meeting up for a sexual marathon every few days is probably going to be easily discovered if someone’s looking for it, and hell, the whole department is keeping an eye on us in case we all end up on the mortuary table!”
Gil gave a little nod of his head that seemed to be performed almost entirely with his eyes. “Yes. But it doesn’t stop the decision itself. It merely delays what we do afterwards.”
Nick studied him harder. “You’re actually considering doing this, aren’t you?” he said in faint disbelief, the evidence in front of his eyes clashing with his own mental image of what Grissom would want. Sex was all very well, but it was almost a means to an end for Gil rather than an event that was a necessity; the chocolate cake of the diet rather than the potato. “You’d not be here talking about it if there wasn’t a chance that you weren’t going to do it. It just wouldn’t even occur to you,”
That managed to hit a nerve, which was news to Nick as he hadn’t even realised that Gil had nerves to strike. There was the slightest wince in the other man’s eyes, and Nick felt a stab of guilt that he had put it there.
“If we did anything, I’d want to know that you were perfectly happy with the situation in your own right rather than feeling obligated to do so simply because everyone else is-,”
“Okay, listen up, I am not a sheep!” Nick snarled back.
“Well, good, I’m not really into bestiality, although sometimes I do wonder about Greg,”
Nick snorted a soft laugh despite himself, then leaned back and rested his head against the headboard. One hand rubbed the back of his neck as he stared upwards, trying to gather his thoughts, before he reluctantly looked back at Gil and offered him a rueful smile.
“I’m not a sheep,” he repeated softly. “I can make my own decisions, and I don’t need anyone holding my hand. If I did this, you guys are seriously going to have to put this whole ‘innocent Nick Stokes’ out of your head, ‘kay? If you’re going to worry about anyone, worry about Greg. He’d get himself broken,”
“If we did this,” Gil said softly. “I’d be worried about everyone, not just Greg. Although worried is the wrong word. Concerned. Protective. Although I do have another question for you.”
“Just one?” Nick gave him a weary look. “You turning into Columbo?”
Grissom frowned. “Is that an explorer I’m unaware of?”
“The television detective rather than … oh, never mind. Shoot.” Nick shook his head, then settled back and watched him carefully, trying to read every flicker in the other man’s eyes. Gil paused, then clearly mentally shrugged the comment, and refocused on his current target.
“From what I understand of the situation, and indeed what’s been happening between Warrick and Greg, the focus appears to be mostly sexual. Taking things further,” Gil was watching him unsettlingly closely, although Nick guessed that any talk about sex with a boss was going to be unsettling in some way. It was like having a parent discover a porn mag during the teenage years and then decide to have the mortifying birds and bees talk.
“Yeah. And?”
“Not everything we did that night was directly sexual. I simply want to know whether you’re considering the group as simply some type of .. well, sex club, I guess… or whether you’re interested in replicating what we did that night,” Gil said softly. “Or at least in some form. Making the fiction a reality.”
Nick was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he discovered that his throat had become uncomfortably dry.
“You’re asking me whether I’m up for all the collars and whips and ‘yes, sir’ we did before? Putting our trust in you and each other?” he rubbed the back of his neck again, and then growled softly and looked across at his book for something to do that wasn’t looking into the soul-searching eyes that were across from him. He felt the mattress dip as Gil lowered himself to the end of it, a movement that seemed ridiculously parental despite the fact that it was the most logical thing that Gil could do. Nick looked up and scowled automatically, hating the question itself.
“I don’t know.” Nick said finally. “I just don’t know.”
Gil tilted his head, his eyes remarkably unassuming. “Let’s put it a different way. Would you be interested in a sex group without it?”
“I …,” Nick hesitated. Without the bondage and group dynamics, it simply turned itself into something .. well, casual. Messy. Socially awkward. He growled softly, and looked away again.
“That sounds like a no.” Gil said softly.
“If I was just after the sex, man, I could do it on a day by day basis, y’know?” Nick’s voice had definitely developed a rougher element to it. “Find a relationship, stick to it, yadda yadda yadda.”
“And you’re not worried about the homosexuality involved?” Gil pressed, but it wasn’t pressing, not really, merely someone who was voicing his own thoughts. Or at least that was what Nick knew it was supposed to be like; there was never anything casual about the way Gil’s mind worked, and for all his occasional social faux-pas he knew damned well how to tease out the answers he wanted from people who didn’t even know themselves. Nick snorted softly, and then shook his head, focusing on the book once more.
“No.” he answered quietly. “I know I should do, but I don’t. Not when it’s with us. Anyone else, yeah, ain’t happening, but when it’s with the group…,” Nick sighed softly, and looked up, knowing his eyes were wretched and not having the faintest power to stop it. “.. I dunno, man, it just feels like it’s natural, y’know? We trust each other with our lives every day. When it’s up against a bullet in the brain, sharing pleasure afterwards is kinda just .. well, small fry. But it shouldn’t be.”
“Because that’s not how you see yourself?” Gil’s question was softly spoken, giving Nick a few moments to get his mind into gear before asking. Nick chuckled again ruefully, returning his gaze to the book.
“Kinda. Parents probably wouldn’t kill me, but hell, it would be ‘awkward’ if it came out. And it’s not as though I’m up for junking in my past life. I like women. Always have. Probably always will. Girl in a cheerleading outfit still gets me, y’know? Well, you might not know.. but, well, just trust me on that.” Nick sighed and allowed his head to tip back again. “It just doesn’t seem to clash on what else I like.”
“You’re bisexual.”
“I dunno, man, I ..,” Nick shook his head slowly. “It’s not as though I can pick up a magazine, see a good looking guy and think, ‘wow’. Sure, I can tell what’s good looking and what’s not, but as for other reactions, then .. well, I’d have to try for it.”
He knew damned well a steady flush was rising to his cheeks and was busy fighting it down. A war that was destined not to be won. Nick growled again in frustration, then looked across at Gil. “So.. you saying you’re gay?”
There was a little pause at that, and then a small smile aimed itself at him, Gil’s eyes twinkling in amusement in such a manner that managed to light up his entire face. “Let’s just say I’m flexible. Each circumstance is different, and each scene needs its own assessment. You can’t fit the same model to each and every gun murder,”
Nick’s brow creased slightly. “So that’s an ‘undecided’?”
Grissom chuckled. “Yes, I guess you could call it that. Attractiveness isn’t just a list of set things. What I find attractive in one man might be entirely different to the next, just as I may be seeing something different in a woman. The team here is a good case in point.”
“Yeah?”
Gil tilted his head. “Think on it. In a way, we all represent very different elements of personality, and what attracts me to you,” here Nick’s blush found a whole new fuel source. “isn’t the same thing that attracts me to Warrick, or Greg. I would imagine that you would be the same,”
“So..,” Nick licked his drying bottom lip. “what .. uh,”
“.. am I attracted to you with?” Gil’s eyes danced again, then he fell silent, clearly assessing Nick in front of him. “Your kindness. You’re a good man, Nick, and it shines through. I suspect it’s what fuels your ‘innocence’, as you call it. You believe in people, and in this line of work that’s refreshing to see. You have a sensitivity that I doubt I will ever understand, but that’s a gift all in its own. You have strength and courage that sometimes you don’t even realise yourself. And then, of course, you are a very pretty boy,”
“Uh,” Nick felt himself reach lava temperatures. Gil watched him for a moment, then chuckled and slowly slipped from the mattress.
“Get some sleep. We’ll speak more tomorrow.” he said it in such a kind way that Nick almost felt the physical pat on the head, and scowled after him as Gil left the room. As though he could possibly sleep after that. Grissom always was an optimist.
And hell, Nick didn’t want to know what his dreams would contain tonight.
TBC
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Date: 2010-04-30 09:02 am (UTC)*technically they've finished their little undercover mission already ;)
*
Yeah say that to Greg who is so eager to play again lol ! love your eager puppy greg btw.
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Date: 2010-04-30 04:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-30 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-30 05:40 pm (UTC)*happy sigh*
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Date: 2010-04-30 05:54 pm (UTC)