Unwritten (Boom - Part Two)
Title: Unwritten (Boom - Part Two)
Author: Nat
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,006
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes and occasional cameos by other cast members.
Warnings: Adults only, please.
Spoilers: Boom
Disclaimer: You know the "I don't own these two" drill, so I won't bore you.
Unbeta-ed: I'm too busy to spell check. I do my best.
A/N 1: A fun little experiment. This is the first of a series of short stories that are based directly on scenes in CSI Episodes. Much in the way that we were all subjected to those build up episodes between Gil and She Who Shall Not Be Named, these are little drabbles about the build up of Gil and Nick's relationship with one little itty bitty catch - they will be starting at the end and working thier way back to the beginning. (Memento, anyone?)
A/N 2: GSR FREE ZONE. They are my stories, right? So canon be damned, I do what I want.
A/N 3: Now featureing creative research from stokesgirl .
Nick had to pull his feet underneath him as he followed Gil down the hall. It was only by comparing his movements to the shuffle of Gil’s gait that he realized how slowly he was moving.
“Hey, man. You hangin’ in there?” Warrick’s hand pressed firmly into Nick’s shoulder, slowing him and gently turning him around. Nick forced a smile.
“Yeah, I’m good. How’s the case?” Nick tried to shift the focus of their conversation to the bomb case Warrick was working…trying to remind himself that it was just another day in the lab. And Warrick answered his inquiry but Nick’s ears were buzzing with the heat of his prior conversation and he could barely hear him. He nodded along and smiled a bit, encouraging Warrick’s obvious attempt to keep the conversation light. Nick was reminded of the task at hand and turned down the hall, noticing that Gil had already ducked into a private room.
“Good luck, ‘Rick.” Warrick followed Nick’s glance down the hall and gave him a gentle nudge.
“You, too man.”
Nick continued his walk of the plank that led all the way down a rarely travelled lab corridor to a small closed off lab that was generally used by outside ops that were sent to run evidence. Nick wasn’t sure he had ever been inside of it at all. It was just around the corner from Doc Robbins, and he had always just assumed that it was his office. He pushed the door opened slowly and noticed Gil across the room. Gil only barely turned when he heard Nick enter the room. He was already wearing his lab coat and was in the process of snapping on latex gloves as Nick shut the door.
“Is all this necessary, Grissom?” Nick’s voice was low and calm…as calm as he could pretend to be, anyway.
“There may not be a protocol for this, Nick, but there is always a procedure. And we’re going to follow it.” Nick nodded to himself as Gil kept his back to him. The room was almost too dim - lit only by some florescent lighting over the work station that Gil was preparing. Nick could hear the tiny clanging of glass and tearing of tape, but couldn’t see past Gil’s body to really make sense of what was going on. Instead he let his eyes adjust to the lighting and scanned the room. He felt like he was at a doctor’s office…although not like any doctor’s office he would care to visit. But he decided that keeping that mind frame might help him get through the next five minutes or so.
“There’s a gown on the table if you want it, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”
Nick glanced down at the aluminum table and swallowed hard as he checked out the pale blue gown. Yeah, no thanks. There was a work sink beside Gil so Nick moved towards it and decided he would scrub up just like he would if he were doing anything else in that lab. Anything else…exactly what he wished he was doing. Gil glanced over his shoulder at Nick, who was studying Gil’s supplies as he scrubbed his hands under the running water. Gil had prepared a specimen jar, pulled a couple sterile swabs and was working on a vial label with Nick’s full name on it.
“Date of birth? I forget…”
“August eighteenth. Seventy one.”
Nick shut the water off as Gil pulled the tape and moved it carefully around the jar, pressing it in place with his gloved fingers. Nick stood at his side watching for a moment. Gil finally stopped what he was doing and looked up over his glasses as Nick.
“I’m not going to hold your hand, Nick.” Gil gestured with a nod to the table across the room. “I’m just here to ensure the integrity of the sample. You let me know when to hand you this jar.”
Nick nodded, embarrassed, and then walked across the room. Gil went about his business, keeping his face towards the wall and his back towards Nick. Nick glanced over his shoulder at Gil one last time before he slid himself onto the edge of the table and reached down to undo the zipper of his pants. Gil couldn’t help but stop what he was doing when he heard the tiny buzz of Nick undoing his fly. He wondered what kind of super human strength it would take to let him go about preparing his materials while ignoring the fact that Nick was masturbating approximately four and a half feet behind him. He knew that somehow he would have to manage.
Nick was only half sitting on the edge of the table, one of his legs was planted firmly on the floor and the other dangled loosely off the edge. He reached his trembling hand gently into the fly of his boxers and started to try to get himself hard. He let out a muffled groan which he tried to immediately stifle but it was too late to not be heard. And hear it, Gil did. The small sound that escaped Nick’s throat as he first made contact with himself caught Gil by such surprise that he dropped the glass vial he held in his hand. He managed, by some miracle and what little training in baseball he had, to juggle it clumsily between two hands and keep it from hitting the counter of the ground and shattering. He finally held it tightly in both hands and took a deep breath of relief.
“You alright?” Nick called. Gil fought the urge to turn to answer him.
“I am. Are you?”
Nick hesitated.
“So far so good.”
There was something odd about talking to Gil while he was trying to jerk off. But not odd in a bad way - which was…odd. Nick worked at fully disclosing himself from his boxers and he used his other hand to bunch up the bottom of his black button down shirt and hold it against his lower stomach. Nick closed his eyes and tried to focus on the task at hand. He twisted his hand slowly around himself, silently willing himself into an erection which was seemingly impossible to muster. Nick tried to relax - to think about the fantasies that swirled through his head when he laid in bed alone at night. But they felt strangely inappropriate in Gil’s presence. He couldn’t help himself from thinking about Kristy - but instead of thinking about how she looked while he had her in bed…sprawled out, writhing on the floor beneath him…all he could think about was her lifeless body on the slab in the morgue. It was hardly a turn on. Nick accidentally let out a small moan again, this time in the frustration of not being able to get himself where he needed to be. Gil sensed something was off in the sounds that Nick was letting escape.
“Nick? Everything ok?”
Nick paused for a moment. He was staring down his body, leaning back to watch himself…annoyed, embarrassed and frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t even manage an erection.
“Just…having a hard time.”
“Understandable, Nick. Try to relax. I can try to find a room with a computer…maybe visual aids would help?” Nick chuckled to himself under his breath and Gil couldn’t help but let a tiny grin escape as well. Without thinking Nick raised his head and looked at Gil across the room. Gil wasn’t peeking, per say, but he had turned his head squarely over his shoulder to talk at Nick…and was surely only degrees of a turn away from being able to see Nick. Nick let himself watch Gil for a moment more as he subconsciously began tugging just a bit harder at himself. He bit his lip and continued to slowly pump his fist over himself as he finally began to firm up inside the confines of his tight hand. He felt his head unwillingly drop slightly between his shoulder blades, and Gil could see it too. It was as if they were looking at each other without looking at each other, and neither of them knew it. Gil could only just make out the form of Nick’s black shirt and the slight pulling movement of his right arm, but it was enough to completely distract and unsettle him. Gil knocked a rack of test tubes off of the counter as he turned too quickly to avoid the sight of Nick.
“God damnit.” Gil hissed under his breath, and Nick looked over to see what the commotion was. It didn’t take much to distract Nick, and the clumsy scientist had done just that. Nick winced slightly as he felt his still burgeoning erection fading quickly.
“They’re over here.” Nick spoke quietly about the extra glass tubes that were boxed on a metal shelf at his feet. “Just promise you’ll keep your eyes closed.” Gil smiled to himself and backed away from the counter, still keeping his back to nick as he moved carefully across the room. He had to turn in Nick’s direction to maneuver the shelves and find what he needed, but he kept a professional distance and didn’t dare lower his eyes to see Nick. Likewise, Nick was turning his head away from Gil, closing his own eyes and trying as hard as he could to take himself on a mental vacation that would help him achieve an orgasm as quickly as possible. Nothing like jerking off with a time limit. Gil turned and accidentally caught a glimpse of Nick. And once he realized Nick’s eyes were closed tight, he couldn’t help but stare for a moment: the way Nick was clutching his shirt, the tightness in his lower stomach, the way his fingers curled around his skin. But Gil also noticed that Nick was half-hard at best…and they had a deadline to meet. Nick’s eyes fluttered open and Gil moved quickly to return to the counter, hoping Nick hadn’t become wise to his invasion.
“This is harder than I thought it would be, Grissom.”
Nick’s voice was pleading and soft…speaking to Gil like a supervisee who needed help on a tough case. Gil pondered the best answer to give Nick…trying to keep his feelings in mind, but more concerned with not losing his best CSI.
“I can help you, Nick.”
“Help me?”
Gil turned to face Nick, who - to both of their surprises - didn’t blush, or move, or even stop manipulating himself. In fact, something about the way Gil looked at him was slowly helping him grow again.
“If you trust me.”
“I trust you, Grissom.”
Nick sat up straight towards the end of the table. He let his hand fall from his crotch, revealing a half-hard cock that Gil Grissom had to physically fight the urge to stare at. Gil grabbed the metal tray that held the sample vial and swabs, along with some alcohol wipes. He moved with shaking hands across the room and sat it on the counter closest to Nick.
“Maybe you’d feel better with the gown on, Nick?”
“Maybe…”
Nick turned and slid off the table. He undressed quickly, sliding his shirt off and stepping from his pants. He pulled the gown around himself and tied it as best he could behind him before hopping back onto the table.
“Fuck…” he muttered. Gil smiled a bit.
“The people that usually lay on these tables don’t mind the cold.” They both laughed a bit, trying to quash the unease. Nick slid around until he was facing Gil, who was pulling his gloves off and putting them aside.
“Wait a minute…why are the gloves coming off…”
“These gloves are latex, Nick. Latex breaks down the compound proteins in semen…”
“Polyurethane doesn’t.” Nick finished Gil’s sentence and Gil smiled softly at his star pupil as he grabbed a second box of gloves - polyurethane ones.
“Go ahead and lay back, Nick. Try to relax. And I’m sorry.”
“About the cold?”
“About you having to go through all this.”