Leather Cuffs
Title: Leather Cuffs
Author: Nat
Rating: R(ish)
Word Count: 2,940
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes (Hodges, Wendy, Greg, Cath and Brass!)
Warnings: Not really.
Spoilers: Evaluation Day. Kinda.
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.
Summary: Inspired by a discussion over at PEANUTS and a comment made by selkie3 this is just a fun piece of ficlet I wrote a while ago that I thought I would break down
and post in between working on other fics! It's a fic based around Nicky's penchant for wrist
jewelry as of late. Just for fun. Hope you like! Comments appreciated as always! :)
The Las Vegas Police Department Crime Lab always had a somewhat clean, almost metallic smell. It was one that would strike someone upon their first visit, but after a few minutes of time wandering the cold halls and sitting against the utilitarian furniture it was hardly noticeable. In fact, the only times that the busy inhabitants and employees of the lab would take notice of the smell was when it wasn’t there. And that was the case the day Nick Stokes and Gil Grissom wandered haplessly back into the lab after an…unusual case.
It was Wendy who noticed it first.
“Jesus, Hodges. What did you have for lunch?”
David Hodges reared back from his microscope and sneered across the room to Wendy, whose face was screwed up as she raised her hand to cover her wiggling nose. He moved to grant her a witty retort but he was stopped mid-thought by the horrendous smell that no doubt Wendy was reacting to and possibly even blaming him for. It triggered his gag reflex.
“Oh…oh my…oh my God.”
“What is that!?” Wendy asked through a cupped hand, realizing that not even Hodges could have produced a smell so potent.
“Sulfur? Is it….sulfur?” David struggled against a gag reflex that was about to betray him as he spoke, both of the lab techs walking towards the hallway that they assumed held the offensive odor. They weren’t alone. Greg Sanders had wandered into the hall, armed with a hospital mask, his eyes watering from the smell. He nodded at Hodges and Wendy.
“Sulfur. If that sulfur took a bath in human excrement and was left in the desert sun for a month. Holy…”
Greg turned his head into the hall and stopped midsentence.
“Holy shit.” He finished.
There, making their slow and painful trek down the hallway, were a disgruntled team of Grissom and Nick - covered from head to toe in something that was all at once red and green. And the closer they got, the worse it smelled. Wendy moved back from the hall and ducked into the lab, where she could be heard gagging. And she wasn’t the only one. As Gil and Nick approached the gaping pair of lab techs, Nick Stokes turned over his shoulder and almost as if he were just sneezing threw up all over the floor. It would have been an offensive mess had Gil, who was walking a few feet in front of him, not been leaving a trail of slime so thick that Nick’s vomit disappeared into it. Hodges fought back a lurch once more. Catherine appeared at the end of the hallway, both hands over her face, with Jim Brass. She hollered down the hall.
“Party’s over. For God’s sake, one of you get some collection bags together. We need everything moved into evidence. Everything. Oh. I gotta get some air.”
Catherine leaned on Brass as she spoke and then pushed off of him to leave the room. Wendy had heard her request and began organizing collection bags. Hodges slunk away from Gil and Nick as they passed, but Greg seemed frozen where he was. Maybe the hospital mask increasing his tolerance. Gil Grissom stopped just in front of the door that held a captivated Sanders, and he turned to face him…at which point Greg’s face screwed up when he noticed some goo hanging from Gil’s beard.
“Take the collection bags to the showers. I want you to run a check on sulfur dioxide explosive components and make sure Nick and I don’t need to get checked out for skin exposure.”
“Whoa. This was explosive? What the hell happened.”
“Some asshole blew himself apart.” Nick’s voice was muffled as if he could hardly open it enough to speak. And he walked past Grissom and into the locker room, uninterested in taking the time to stand still and chat. Greg’s eyes widened as he looked at Gil, scanning the front of his jacket.
“You mean…that’s…person on you?”
“Just run the scan and get the bags, Greg.”
Greg stared again, and he had exhausted Gil’s thin patience.
“NOW.”
Greg startled and jumped a bit before he slid across the hall where Wendy was already getting bags together. Gil moved into the locker room where Nick was standing in a growing pile of the mess that was dripping from his body. He stood looking down as if he didn’t know where to start. Hodges had entered the room behind them, now outfitted in a full hazmat suit - helmet included. He knelt on his knees by Nick and began swabbing the floor. Gil looked at him incredulously.
“What?” he said as he glared up at Grissom. “Catherine said we need everything. Don’t think I am enjoying this anymore than you are.”
“Oh, I promise you are, Hodges.” Nick hissed through gritted teeth.
“We should move to the showers. Hodges, have Greg put a cover down outside the stall. Nick and I will leave everything there. And since you are so properly dressed, you can separate it into bags.”
Gil moved back into the hallway and Nick followed, fighting back another attack of the lurches. They made it to the shower and stood still in silence until Greg entered the room - splayed out a large plastic sheet - and then ran from the room, no doubt holding his breath and on borrowed time. Nick and Gil stepped onto the drop and began pulling clothes from their stenchy bodies. Nick had the fortune of being in a jumpsuit, so one long zipper and he was out of the majority of mess. Gil hadn’t been so lucky. He peeled off his jacket, which landed with a soggy thud, before grabbing a pair of scissors Greg had thrown on the drop and cutting his shirt off. No shirt was worth saving if it meant he had to pull it over his head. Gil managed a slight glance to Nick whose hand was outreached. Gil handed him the scissors, which Nick used to cut at his undershirt.
Soon enough Gil and Nick stood naked as the day they were born, both of them letting their hands cover the parts of their bodies that they felt needed to be covered, surrounded by piles of torn clothing and matter. Gil chewed the inside of his cheek as he assessed the mess. He looked up at Nick, who was hopelessly watching him. He noticed that Nick wasn’t naked…not completely.
“Catherine said everything.” Gil called across the small room to Nick.
“I did take everything…”
Nick noticed that Gil was looking at the black leather cuff that he had on his wrist. He rolled his eyes.
“Aww, come on man…it was under my jumpsuit. It’s clean.”
“You’re boxers were under your jumpsuit, too. It’s protocol, you know better, Nick.”
Nick scowled again, knowing Gil was right…but annoyed for reasons Gil still didn’t understand. Nick huffed a bit and then raised his hands from between his legs to unfasten the cuff and toss it into his clothes. Gil tried to keep his eyes where they belonged.
“Happy?” Nick sneered slightly before turning and walking off the blanket into an open shower stall.
“I’ll be happy when I don’t smell like a sewer…” Gil spoke, but mostly to himself. He walked slowly into another shower stall and reveled in the fact that the hot water was managing to erase the stench.
Gil was back in the locker room before Nick, and rifling through the bag of spare clothes that he had kept in his office. Nick appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, and scooted past Gil to get to his own locker. He was still put off by the events of the entire day. Nick pulled his locker open and hung his head.
“Son of a bitch.”
Gil turned his head and paused, wondering what had stopped Nick so shortly. Hodges appeared in the door, spraying a can of Lysol.
“Can I file a grievance? Seeing as how I just had to swab up Nick’s vomit from the hallway? What’s wrong with you?” Hodges was teasing slightly before he realized neither man was in the mood. And Nick was still scowling at his locker.
“I took my spare clothes home last week. Had to go to the gym. All I have is a pair of dress pants from the dry cleaners.
“Uno momento…” and Hodges disappeared into the hall. Nick pulled out the pants that still hung in the dry cleaners plastic bag, cursing under his breath.
“Under the circumstances, Nick, I can let you go home if you like.” Gil was trying not to chuckle as he pulled his pants up, meeting his clean undershirt at his waist.
“Not til I get a good look at what was in that bag Joe Blow blew up.”
“That could be days, Nick.”
“Well I will see what they get off that bag tonight.”
Nick had just finished speaking when he was hit in the face with a wad of flannel.
“You can borrow it. But try to have it back by Thursday. That’s when my mom does my shirts for me.”
Nick pulled the shirt from his face and both he and Gil turned to look at Hodges, who smiled dimly, feeling as if he had saved the day.
“Thanks…” Nick whispered as he held up the blue and white plaid flannel shirt that he had been hit with. Probably a good two sizes too small but better than being naked. Gil watched Nick inspect it and he finally let a laugh out.
“This isn’t funny, man.”
“It’s a little funny, Nick. And I’m sorry about your bracelet. I know it’s special.”
Nick huffed loudly.
“It’s not a bracelet, man. It’s a cuff. And it isn’t special, it’s just something I wear…”
Catherine appeared in the door, leaning on the frame.
“I don’t care if it’s your grandmother’s pearls, I’m glad you parted with it. Greg is scanning it right now and I think he has viable DNA from one of the rivets on that cuff.”
“Great.” Nick was pulling into his pants as he talked to Catherine. Gil watched him as he dressed, running his fingers through his still wet hair, Gil noticed something on Nick’s wrist. He squinted to try to make it out, but waited until Catherine had made her way from the room before asking anything about it.
“Your wrist. Did you get hurt?”
Gil couldn’t make out what was on the same wrist that had been covered by the cuff, and once he made notice of it…Nick protected it as if it were a deep dark secret. Which only served to make the older investigator more curious.
“It’s nothing. No, I’m not hurt.”
Nick was moving away from Gil, prohibiting even a small glance at it. So once Gil had pulled his shirt over his shoulders, he moved towards Nick slowly and cautiously. Nick was pulling Hodges’ flannel over his arms and his assessment was correct. It was small. The sleeves barely reached his wrists and once it was buttoned it fit Nick like a second skin.
“Great.” Nick hummed.
“It looks fine.”
“I look like one of the god damned Village People.”
Nick turned towards Gil and chuckled slightly as he cuffed his sleeves to hide their short length. Gil caught a flash of Nick’s wrist and instinctively reached for it, holding it in place. Nick might have recoiled had he not been so surprised by the physical contact. And Gil might have turned Nick’s hand over to investigate immediately if he wasn’t too lost in thinking about the feel of Nick’s skin in his palm. But finally, and slowly, Gil did turn Nick’s wrist until the underside of it was facing the ceiling…Nick’s open palm facing up. Gil raised an eyebrow and then glanced down at Nick’s wrists…his fingers opening slightly to reveal the small cursive writing on Nick’s skin. It was a navy blue ink that was so dark it was nearly black, and the script was such that Gil had to adjust his eyes to read it properly. It was beautiful. It was unexpected.
“Happy?” Nick’s voice was quiet but not defensive.
“Surprised.” Gil’s voice matched Nick’s. “Water.”
Gil read the word…wondering out loud why of all the things Nick might have chosen to have permanently inked onto his body, he would have chosen the word water. If anyone in the lab treated their body like a temple it was Nick - he ate healthy, for the most part…worked out daily. And he was somewhat of a straight arrow. Gil hadn’t been the least bit surprised the day that Greg flashed everyone (literally) the naked devil woman he had gotten tattooed on his ass after a drunken night on the strip. But Nick was different, and it charmed Gil somehow. As if he had stumbled onto a clue that meant maybe there was more to Nick than met the eye.
“Water…” he repeated again. And Nick just stood, watching Gil inspect the tattoo as if he had never seen one before in his life. Nick smiled to himself disarmingly as Gil turned and twisted his head to get a look at it from different angles. “It’s beautiful, Nick.”
Gil finally stood straight and let go of Nick’s wrist, which was still achingly hot from Gil’s firm grasp as Nick let it rest at his side. Nick cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.
“Beautiful? First you accuse me of wearing a bracelet and now you tell me my tattoo is beautiful? I’m gonna get a complex, Grissom.”
Gil smiled and laughed lowly as Nick protested.
“What am I supposed to say? It’s…tough?”
Nick had bent over the bench in the locker room and was pulling on a spare set of shoes which he managed to always keep in the lab, thankfully. He tied them loosely as Gil watched him…equally close to being clothed enough to complete an odd night’s work.
“Can I ask you what it means? What it is?” Gil was still smiling to himself, bemused at this new side of Nick. Nick stood straight and adjusted himself in his too-tight shirt.
“You’re trying to tell me you don’t know what water is? I’m surprised at you, Grissom.”
Nick nervously chewed at the side of his mouth and Gil’s face beamed pensively at him, pondering his wise ass comment.
“I know what it is. I just want to know what it is…to you.”
Nick thought a moment, and then ran his thumb over the tattoo as he looked at it. He had had it for awhile, but his careful use of the leather cuff he had bought specifically to cover it along with long sleeves and watches meant that he hadn’t ever had to explain it at work. Never get a tattoo where a judge can see it, he remembered his dad telling him. And in this case…that judge was Gil Grissom. He thought for another long moment before answering Gil. His eyes still fixed on the scrolling print on his wrist.
“It’s what cows drink.”
Nick answered softly through a smile before he raised his eyes to look at Gil. Gil’s eyes grew large as he listened, suddenly aware of the impact something he had deemed so simple had had on his young CSI. Nick watched Gil’s face and became increasingly aware that Gil was at a loss for words.
“You know. To remind me that things aren’t always what they seem. That each case is a new case. That each day is a new day. And regardless of what I think I already know…I need to keep my eyes and ears open at all times. That’s what it means to me.” Nick finished sheepishly and let his eyes meet Gil’s once again. Gil Grissom, who stood momentarily shocked and somehow flattered. Nick watched him in silence for a moment, before slipping past him towards the hallway. Gil stood frozen in time, turning only just in enough of it to catch Nick before he left the locker room completely.
“Nick.”
He called quietly, and Nick turned, resting his hand on the doorway. Gil smiled again at how unusually handsome Nick managed to make David Hodges faux-cowboy shirt look…and he didn’t mind that it was too small.
“Yeah, Grissom?”
“Drinks after work.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“An unusually trying day.” Gil smiled, hoping Nick bought it. The real occasion was Gil wanting to know just how many facets there were to Nick Stokes that had remained a mystery to him.
“Ok, Grissom. But I gotta work a double tomorrow.”
“Understood. You can drink…water.”
Nick smiled and shook his head.
“I know this shirt is tight, but I hope that isn’t your subtle way of calling me a cow.”
Gil twisted his mouth into a sideways smile and looked down at his own hands, specifically the bare skin of his wrist, which he gently rubbed.
“Thinking about a tattoo now?” Nick called from the door, teasingly.
“I don’t know what I’d get.”
Nick thought a minute, until his eyebrows lifted as if they were being pulled from the light bulb that had gone off over his head.
“Milk.”
Gil looked towards Nick with a confused smirk.
“And what would that help me to remember exactly?”
Nick smiled easily and his eyes wandered over Gil’s face before Gil was sure that he could see Nick’s cheeks flush.
“Me.”
Nick answered slowly, slapped the door frame with his open hand a couple times and then sauntered away from the locker room, leaving Gil standing alone, holding his wrist, and wondering what he had just really uncovered underneath Nick’s leather cuff.
Author: Nat
Rating: R(ish)
Word Count: 2,940
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil Grissom, Nick Stokes (Hodges, Wendy, Greg, Cath and Brass!)
Warnings: Not really.
Spoilers: Evaluation Day. Kinda.
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.
Summary: Inspired by a discussion over at PEANUTS and a comment made by selkie3 this is just a fun piece of ficlet I wrote a while ago that I thought I would break down
and post in between working on other fics! It's a fic based around Nicky's penchant for wrist
jewelry as of late. Just for fun. Hope you like! Comments appreciated as always! :)
The Las Vegas Police Department Crime Lab always had a somewhat clean, almost metallic smell. It was one that would strike someone upon their first visit, but after a few minutes of time wandering the cold halls and sitting against the utilitarian furniture it was hardly noticeable. In fact, the only times that the busy inhabitants and employees of the lab would take notice of the smell was when it wasn’t there. And that was the case the day Nick Stokes and Gil Grissom wandered haplessly back into the lab after an…unusual case.
It was Wendy who noticed it first.
“Jesus, Hodges. What did you have for lunch?”
David Hodges reared back from his microscope and sneered across the room to Wendy, whose face was screwed up as she raised her hand to cover her wiggling nose. He moved to grant her a witty retort but he was stopped mid-thought by the horrendous smell that no doubt Wendy was reacting to and possibly even blaming him for. It triggered his gag reflex.
“Oh…oh my…oh my God.”
“What is that!?” Wendy asked through a cupped hand, realizing that not even Hodges could have produced a smell so potent.
“Sulfur? Is it….sulfur?” David struggled against a gag reflex that was about to betray him as he spoke, both of the lab techs walking towards the hallway that they assumed held the offensive odor. They weren’t alone. Greg Sanders had wandered into the hall, armed with a hospital mask, his eyes watering from the smell. He nodded at Hodges and Wendy.
“Sulfur. If that sulfur took a bath in human excrement and was left in the desert sun for a month. Holy…”
Greg turned his head into the hall and stopped midsentence.
“Holy shit.” He finished.
There, making their slow and painful trek down the hallway, were a disgruntled team of Grissom and Nick - covered from head to toe in something that was all at once red and green. And the closer they got, the worse it smelled. Wendy moved back from the hall and ducked into the lab, where she could be heard gagging. And she wasn’t the only one. As Gil and Nick approached the gaping pair of lab techs, Nick Stokes turned over his shoulder and almost as if he were just sneezing threw up all over the floor. It would have been an offensive mess had Gil, who was walking a few feet in front of him, not been leaving a trail of slime so thick that Nick’s vomit disappeared into it. Hodges fought back a lurch once more. Catherine appeared at the end of the hallway, both hands over her face, with Jim Brass. She hollered down the hall.
“Party’s over. For God’s sake, one of you get some collection bags together. We need everything moved into evidence. Everything. Oh. I gotta get some air.”
Catherine leaned on Brass as she spoke and then pushed off of him to leave the room. Wendy had heard her request and began organizing collection bags. Hodges slunk away from Gil and Nick as they passed, but Greg seemed frozen where he was. Maybe the hospital mask increasing his tolerance. Gil Grissom stopped just in front of the door that held a captivated Sanders, and he turned to face him…at which point Greg’s face screwed up when he noticed some goo hanging from Gil’s beard.
“Take the collection bags to the showers. I want you to run a check on sulfur dioxide explosive components and make sure Nick and I don’t need to get checked out for skin exposure.”
“Whoa. This was explosive? What the hell happened.”
“Some asshole blew himself apart.” Nick’s voice was muffled as if he could hardly open it enough to speak. And he walked past Grissom and into the locker room, uninterested in taking the time to stand still and chat. Greg’s eyes widened as he looked at Gil, scanning the front of his jacket.
“You mean…that’s…person on you?”
“Just run the scan and get the bags, Greg.”
Greg stared again, and he had exhausted Gil’s thin patience.
“NOW.”
Greg startled and jumped a bit before he slid across the hall where Wendy was already getting bags together. Gil moved into the locker room where Nick was standing in a growing pile of the mess that was dripping from his body. He stood looking down as if he didn’t know where to start. Hodges had entered the room behind them, now outfitted in a full hazmat suit - helmet included. He knelt on his knees by Nick and began swabbing the floor. Gil looked at him incredulously.
“What?” he said as he glared up at Grissom. “Catherine said we need everything. Don’t think I am enjoying this anymore than you are.”
“Oh, I promise you are, Hodges.” Nick hissed through gritted teeth.
“We should move to the showers. Hodges, have Greg put a cover down outside the stall. Nick and I will leave everything there. And since you are so properly dressed, you can separate it into bags.”
Gil moved back into the hallway and Nick followed, fighting back another attack of the lurches. They made it to the shower and stood still in silence until Greg entered the room - splayed out a large plastic sheet - and then ran from the room, no doubt holding his breath and on borrowed time. Nick and Gil stepped onto the drop and began pulling clothes from their stenchy bodies. Nick had the fortune of being in a jumpsuit, so one long zipper and he was out of the majority of mess. Gil hadn’t been so lucky. He peeled off his jacket, which landed with a soggy thud, before grabbing a pair of scissors Greg had thrown on the drop and cutting his shirt off. No shirt was worth saving if it meant he had to pull it over his head. Gil managed a slight glance to Nick whose hand was outreached. Gil handed him the scissors, which Nick used to cut at his undershirt.
Soon enough Gil and Nick stood naked as the day they were born, both of them letting their hands cover the parts of their bodies that they felt needed to be covered, surrounded by piles of torn clothing and matter. Gil chewed the inside of his cheek as he assessed the mess. He looked up at Nick, who was hopelessly watching him. He noticed that Nick wasn’t naked…not completely.
“Catherine said everything.” Gil called across the small room to Nick.
“I did take everything…”
Nick noticed that Gil was looking at the black leather cuff that he had on his wrist. He rolled his eyes.
“Aww, come on man…it was under my jumpsuit. It’s clean.”
“You’re boxers were under your jumpsuit, too. It’s protocol, you know better, Nick.”
Nick scowled again, knowing Gil was right…but annoyed for reasons Gil still didn’t understand. Nick huffed a bit and then raised his hands from between his legs to unfasten the cuff and toss it into his clothes. Gil tried to keep his eyes where they belonged.
“Happy?” Nick sneered slightly before turning and walking off the blanket into an open shower stall.
“I’ll be happy when I don’t smell like a sewer…” Gil spoke, but mostly to himself. He walked slowly into another shower stall and reveled in the fact that the hot water was managing to erase the stench.
Gil was back in the locker room before Nick, and rifling through the bag of spare clothes that he had kept in his office. Nick appeared in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, and scooted past Gil to get to his own locker. He was still put off by the events of the entire day. Nick pulled his locker open and hung his head.
“Son of a bitch.”
Gil turned his head and paused, wondering what had stopped Nick so shortly. Hodges appeared in the door, spraying a can of Lysol.
“Can I file a grievance? Seeing as how I just had to swab up Nick’s vomit from the hallway? What’s wrong with you?” Hodges was teasing slightly before he realized neither man was in the mood. And Nick was still scowling at his locker.
“I took my spare clothes home last week. Had to go to the gym. All I have is a pair of dress pants from the dry cleaners.
“Uno momento…” and Hodges disappeared into the hall. Nick pulled out the pants that still hung in the dry cleaners plastic bag, cursing under his breath.
“Under the circumstances, Nick, I can let you go home if you like.” Gil was trying not to chuckle as he pulled his pants up, meeting his clean undershirt at his waist.
“Not til I get a good look at what was in that bag Joe Blow blew up.”
“That could be days, Nick.”
“Well I will see what they get off that bag tonight.”
Nick had just finished speaking when he was hit in the face with a wad of flannel.
“You can borrow it. But try to have it back by Thursday. That’s when my mom does my shirts for me.”
Nick pulled the shirt from his face and both he and Gil turned to look at Hodges, who smiled dimly, feeling as if he had saved the day.
“Thanks…” Nick whispered as he held up the blue and white plaid flannel shirt that he had been hit with. Probably a good two sizes too small but better than being naked. Gil watched Nick inspect it and he finally let a laugh out.
“This isn’t funny, man.”
“It’s a little funny, Nick. And I’m sorry about your bracelet. I know it’s special.”
Nick huffed loudly.
“It’s not a bracelet, man. It’s a cuff. And it isn’t special, it’s just something I wear…”
Catherine appeared in the door, leaning on the frame.
“I don’t care if it’s your grandmother’s pearls, I’m glad you parted with it. Greg is scanning it right now and I think he has viable DNA from one of the rivets on that cuff.”
“Great.” Nick was pulling into his pants as he talked to Catherine. Gil watched him as he dressed, running his fingers through his still wet hair, Gil noticed something on Nick’s wrist. He squinted to try to make it out, but waited until Catherine had made her way from the room before asking anything about it.
“Your wrist. Did you get hurt?”
Gil couldn’t make out what was on the same wrist that had been covered by the cuff, and once he made notice of it…Nick protected it as if it were a deep dark secret. Which only served to make the older investigator more curious.
“It’s nothing. No, I’m not hurt.”
Nick was moving away from Gil, prohibiting even a small glance at it. So once Gil had pulled his shirt over his shoulders, he moved towards Nick slowly and cautiously. Nick was pulling Hodges’ flannel over his arms and his assessment was correct. It was small. The sleeves barely reached his wrists and once it was buttoned it fit Nick like a second skin.
“Great.” Nick hummed.
“It looks fine.”
“I look like one of the god damned Village People.”
Nick turned towards Gil and chuckled slightly as he cuffed his sleeves to hide their short length. Gil caught a flash of Nick’s wrist and instinctively reached for it, holding it in place. Nick might have recoiled had he not been so surprised by the physical contact. And Gil might have turned Nick’s hand over to investigate immediately if he wasn’t too lost in thinking about the feel of Nick’s skin in his palm. But finally, and slowly, Gil did turn Nick’s wrist until the underside of it was facing the ceiling…Nick’s open palm facing up. Gil raised an eyebrow and then glanced down at Nick’s wrists…his fingers opening slightly to reveal the small cursive writing on Nick’s skin. It was a navy blue ink that was so dark it was nearly black, and the script was such that Gil had to adjust his eyes to read it properly. It was beautiful. It was unexpected.
“Happy?” Nick’s voice was quiet but not defensive.
“Surprised.” Gil’s voice matched Nick’s. “Water.”
Gil read the word…wondering out loud why of all the things Nick might have chosen to have permanently inked onto his body, he would have chosen the word water. If anyone in the lab treated their body like a temple it was Nick - he ate healthy, for the most part…worked out daily. And he was somewhat of a straight arrow. Gil hadn’t been the least bit surprised the day that Greg flashed everyone (literally) the naked devil woman he had gotten tattooed on his ass after a drunken night on the strip. But Nick was different, and it charmed Gil somehow. As if he had stumbled onto a clue that meant maybe there was more to Nick than met the eye.
“Water…” he repeated again. And Nick just stood, watching Gil inspect the tattoo as if he had never seen one before in his life. Nick smiled to himself disarmingly as Gil turned and twisted his head to get a look at it from different angles. “It’s beautiful, Nick.”
Gil finally stood straight and let go of Nick’s wrist, which was still achingly hot from Gil’s firm grasp as Nick let it rest at his side. Nick cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.
“Beautiful? First you accuse me of wearing a bracelet and now you tell me my tattoo is beautiful? I’m gonna get a complex, Grissom.”
Gil smiled and laughed lowly as Nick protested.
“What am I supposed to say? It’s…tough?”
Nick had bent over the bench in the locker room and was pulling on a spare set of shoes which he managed to always keep in the lab, thankfully. He tied them loosely as Gil watched him…equally close to being clothed enough to complete an odd night’s work.
“Can I ask you what it means? What it is?” Gil was still smiling to himself, bemused at this new side of Nick. Nick stood straight and adjusted himself in his too-tight shirt.
“You’re trying to tell me you don’t know what water is? I’m surprised at you, Grissom.”
Nick nervously chewed at the side of his mouth and Gil’s face beamed pensively at him, pondering his wise ass comment.
“I know what it is. I just want to know what it is…to you.”
Nick thought a moment, and then ran his thumb over the tattoo as he looked at it. He had had it for awhile, but his careful use of the leather cuff he had bought specifically to cover it along with long sleeves and watches meant that he hadn’t ever had to explain it at work. Never get a tattoo where a judge can see it, he remembered his dad telling him. And in this case…that judge was Gil Grissom. He thought for another long moment before answering Gil. His eyes still fixed on the scrolling print on his wrist.
“It’s what cows drink.”
Nick answered softly through a smile before he raised his eyes to look at Gil. Gil’s eyes grew large as he listened, suddenly aware of the impact something he had deemed so simple had had on his young CSI. Nick watched Gil’s face and became increasingly aware that Gil was at a loss for words.
“You know. To remind me that things aren’t always what they seem. That each case is a new case. That each day is a new day. And regardless of what I think I already know…I need to keep my eyes and ears open at all times. That’s what it means to me.” Nick finished sheepishly and let his eyes meet Gil’s once again. Gil Grissom, who stood momentarily shocked and somehow flattered. Nick watched him in silence for a moment, before slipping past him towards the hallway. Gil stood frozen in time, turning only just in enough of it to catch Nick before he left the locker room completely.
“Nick.”
He called quietly, and Nick turned, resting his hand on the doorway. Gil smiled again at how unusually handsome Nick managed to make David Hodges faux-cowboy shirt look…and he didn’t mind that it was too small.
“Yeah, Grissom?”
“Drinks after work.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“An unusually trying day.” Gil smiled, hoping Nick bought it. The real occasion was Gil wanting to know just how many facets there were to Nick Stokes that had remained a mystery to him.
“Ok, Grissom. But I gotta work a double tomorrow.”
“Understood. You can drink…water.”
Nick smiled and shook his head.
“I know this shirt is tight, but I hope that isn’t your subtle way of calling me a cow.”
Gil twisted his mouth into a sideways smile and looked down at his own hands, specifically the bare skin of his wrist, which he gently rubbed.
“Thinking about a tattoo now?” Nick called from the door, teasingly.
“I don’t know what I’d get.”
Nick thought a minute, until his eyebrows lifted as if they were being pulled from the light bulb that had gone off over his head.
“Milk.”
Gil looked towards Nick with a confused smirk.
“And what would that help me to remember exactly?”
Nick smiled easily and his eyes wandered over Gil’s face before Gil was sure that he could see Nick’s cheeks flush.
“Me.”
Nick answered slowly, slapped the door frame with his open hand a couple times and then sauntered away from the locker room, leaving Gil standing alone, holding his wrist, and wondering what he had just really uncovered underneath Nick’s leather cuff.