FIC: Sins of the Father-Chapter 7 (Gil/Nick)
Title: Sins of the Father (7/10)
Author: Knightmusic
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter)
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: An orphaned girl and a murdered son, and Gil and Nick are left to discover the impressions a father leaves on the life of his child.
Author's Note/Warnings: Aaahh! There! It's done! Honestly, this was the most gruelling chapter I've ever tried to write. Which is odd, since I loved doing it. It was just....touchy. You'll see why (I hope). Anyway, thanks to laurelgardner for talking me through it, encouraging some ideas and killing others quickly and painlessly when I couldn't do it myself.
Disclaimer: I didn't own CSI when I posted the last chapter. Nothing has changed since then.
Previous chapters and related stories can be found here.
Nick had hoped that whatever had been bugging Gil yesterday afternoon would be more or less worked out of his system by the time he came home in the morning. Any such hope dissipated the minute he came in the door.
Some people had clouds hanging over their heads when they were upset. Gil came home with a thunderstorm low and rolling in the distance. The kind that made you, if you had any sense at all, retreat indoors and not even consider braving it.
Nick liked to think he had good sense, but unfortunately, there were times he had to ignore it.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against a wall and trying his best to be nonchalant. “What’s up?” Gil was making himself a drink: scotch and soda, by the looks of it. The only answer Nick got was a shrug.
Nick suppressed a sigh. He tried again. “Rough day?” he asked. Gil gave him a tired look over the top of his glasses.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and tension. He looked down at his glass, swirling the drink a few times, focusing intently on it. Then he tipped it back and drained most of it in one go, making a face afterwards.
“So what’s wrong?” Nick prompted. Gil was still looking down at the glass in his hand. He opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against his lips and upper teeth in his thinking-before-speaking gesture, but just shook his head instead of saying anything.
Nick crossed the room to put a hand on Gil’s shoulder. For a second it seemed like he would shake him off, but he allowed the contact. “You can talk to me, you know?” he said, as gently as he could.
Gil closed his eyes. “I’m fine, Nick,” he said, and finished off his drink. Nick frowned and touched Gil’s cheek, turning his head to look at him.
“You’re not fine. What’s going on?”
Now he did shrug away from Nick’s touch. Again, he looked like he was going to say something, but then just frowned. Nick crossed his arms over his chest and gave him an expectant look.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gil said finally, giving Nick an equally pointed look. He started to refill his glass.
“I think you should talk about this,” Nick returned. Gil glanced up, catching his eye only long enough for Nick to see the warning in it. This would be the time to stop if he was going to…
“Gil,” he said, putting a hand on Gil’s arm. Very slowly and deliberately he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” Gil said. He tried to toss it off, but the effort behind the words betrayed him. They came out with a mean, hard edge.
“What, aside from the fact that you’re trying to drink yourself stupid? On scotch and soda, which, if I may add, I happen to know you don’t like?” Nick still had his hand on Gil’s arm, and he gave it a slight rub as he spoke.
“I’ve never seen you do that before. I thought roller coasters were your style.” Or sex, lately, but he wasn’t going to mention that. He really didn’t feel like putting out at the moment.
“A roller coaster isn’t going to help,” Gil said. He took a sip of his drink; a more reasonable one this time. Nick sighed.
“So what will?” he asked. Gil’s frown got more intense.
“Just leave me alone for a while. I’ll be fine,” he said.
Most of the time, when Gil said that, Nick believed him. All it took was a few hours of down time, often by himself with a project or a book, and he would have shaken off whatever was weighing on his mind. But this wasn’t one of those times.
His grip was just a little too tight on the glass, his frown just a little too set, and his voice far too strained. Whatever was wrong might be off his mind in a few hours, but it wasn’t going to go away through the normal means.
Slowly, gently, Nick took Gil by the shoulders. “Let me help,” he said. “I can.”
“No, you can’t.” There couldn’t have been more venom in the words if Gil had shouted them. He shook himself away from Nick and glared at him.
“You can’t make this better, Nicky, no matter how much you want to. This is my problem.”
“Give me a chance to try. You might be surprised.” Nick’s voice was getting its own hard edge now, and by the look on Gil’s face, he clearly noticed.
“I don’t want to be surprised. I want you to mind your own business,” he said.
“My business?” Nick said, and the calm he’d managed to hang onto went out the window. “You’re my business, Gil! And when something’s making you this unhappy, I think I have a right to know about it!”
“And what about my right?” Gil fired back. “I think I have a right to decide when I want to talk about something and when I don’t.”
“Okay fine, you can play that card if you want. But you don’t get to blow me off like this. I care about you!”
“So then back off,” Gil said, unwrapping his index finger from his glass to point at Nick. “And I’m not blowing you off.”
Nick laughed, humorlessly. “Then what do you call it? Do you think I’m just overly curious? That I’m looking for gossip? Fuck that, Gil!”
“Nick-” Gil started, but Nick wasn’t about to be talked down now.
“I’m part of your life now. When you come home spitting fire like that, it affects me!”
“Nick!” Gil tried again, but Nick didn’t even hear him.
“What happened to trust and communication? Or do those just not apply when you’re the one feeling moody?”
Gil threw his glass.
Not at Nick, but across the room where it didn’t stand a chance against the stone floor. Ice skittered and the smell of scotch was suddenly thick in the air. Nick looked from the glass back to Gil, who was giving him a glare that was both chilling and blazing with rage.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gil said, his voice very low and controlled, but nearly breaking loose. Nick waited for him to elaborate, but instead he picked up his coat and left the house. A few seconds later he heard Gil start his Tahoe and drive away, and Nick wished he had something to break.
Instead, he went into the living room, kicking at a piece of ice on the way, and dropped onto the sofa. And sulked. He and Gil didn’t have fights very often - generally they could work out a problem before it got that far - but when they did they often ended up like this. The last time it had been Nick who’d walked out.
He didn’t want to sit around here waiting for Gil to come back, but he sure as hell didn’t want to go out looking for him, either. He had no idea what Gil did when he left a fight, anyway.
Well, two could play at that game. He grabbed his own jacket and keys and was out the door, not bothering to think about where he was going. Once on the road, habit took him to the lab. Gil’s car wasn’t there, and Nick sat in the parking lot for a while. He drummed on the steering wheel a bit, punched the radio on and off, looked at the entrance to the lab and made a face.
He pulled out of the parking lot. This was no better than kicking his heels around their townhouse. He drove aimlessly, considering and rejecting the idea of stopping for a burger, or a coffee or a beer.
After circling the same businesses for the umpteenth time, he was no longer cursing Gil out under his breath.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed their home number. The phone rang four times and the generic greeting on their answering machine picked up. That made Nick smile a bit. They’d tried to record a greeting of their own - “Leave a message for Nick or Gil after the tone” - but it had been shortly after Nick had moved in, and neither had been able to manage a clean take. The times they had managed to keep from laughing, they had tripped over the words instead. It was odd the things that made their relationship seem real.
Nick hung up. If Gil was home, he would have answered. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and wondered where Gil had gone. He wasn’t the type to drive in circles like Nick had been doing; he would have gone in search of a diversion.
Playing a hunch, he drove to Desert Palm. The nurse in the children’s ward smiled in recognition when he gave his name and directed him to Chloe’s room.
He heard Gil before he saw him.
“I don't understand how you can say that and claim you're doing your job!” Nick wasn’t the only one getting the business end of Gil’s temper today.
“Mr. Grissom,” the woman said, sounding like her reasonable tone was about to time out, “my responsibility is to the welfare of the child-”
“No it’s not,” Grissom interrupted, incredulous. “It should be, but that’s not how you’re behaving. If it was, you’d be trying to place her in a home with someone who could provide the support she needs, not wrapping her up in red tape.”
The woman’s mouth tightened into an unattractive frown. “Whether or not you or I like it, Mr. Grissom, there are procedures that need to be followed.”
Gil tossed his head, eyes rolling in a gesture of annoyed disbelief. “Believe me, I know all about procedure. And I know about efficiency.” He clearly could have gone on, but the woman held up a hand.
“That’s quite enough. As much as I would like to help you right now,” and Nick thought her face did a poor job of matching her words, “I have to be somewhere else. If you’ll excuse me.” She pushed past him and walked away down the hall.
Gil made a noise of utter disgust and shook his head. He looked up when Nick walked over to him.
“Hey,” Nick said.
“Hey,” Gil answered without inflection.
“So what was that all about?” Nick nodded in the direction of the retreating woman.
“Family services,” Gil said.
“Chloe?”
Gil nodded and let out a deep sigh. He didn’t say anything further, and Nick didn’t push. Despite the exchange he had just witnessed, Gil seemed calmer now. Or more accurately, he seemed tired; like this day had taken everything he had to give and more. Nick glanced up and down the hall; no one was in sight. He pressed a soft, quick kiss to Gil’s temple, and Gil let out a different kind of sigh.
“I’m astounded by the obstacles in place in the adoption process,” he said quietly. “I can help her. You and I could give her a good home. But all they see is paperwork.” Gil spat the last word as though it were a curse.
Nick rubbed a hand over Gil’s back. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Have you seen Chloe?”
Gil seemed grateful for the change of subject. “No. She was asleep when I got here. I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Well,” Nick said, peeking around the open door. “It looks like she’s awake now. Wanna go say hi?” Gil smiled for the first time that day.
“Yeah, I would. Come on,” he pulled Nick into the room.
It was the first time Nick had seen the girl since he met her at the crime scene. She still had a quiet, solemn look about her, but the minute she saw Gil, her face lit up in a brilliant smile. She sat up and signed something. He glanced over in time to see Gil’s response.
Not only was Gil wearing the first smile Nick had seen all day, it was the most open, joyful smile he had seen on his lover in a long time. He watched the two of them sign back and forth, not caring that he couldn’t understand a thing, just enjoying watching Gil. The more he observed, the more that smile seemed awfully familiar.
Chloe signed something and Gil laughed, then looked at Nick. “No,” he said, still signing as he spoke. “We’ll have to teach him.”
“That’s okay,” Chloe said to Nick. “I can talk instead.”
Nick found himself smiling irresistibly. “Well that’s very polite of you,” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Chloe’s bed.
He had a nephew about her age. Sweet enough kid, well behaved; nothing like the monsters you meet in grocery stores. Nick liked his nephew, of course, probably would say he loved him if he ever saw him with any kind of regularity.
Chloe was something else entirely. Nick had never felt so thoroughly charmed. Well, except maybe by Gil, but that was another kind of feeling altogether. Maybe it was just that she laughed, and laughed hard, at all his jokes - something that always earned points with him - or maybe it had more to do with the effect she had on Gil.
Gil wasn’t charmed by her. He was completely in love.
* * *
Gil didn’t say anything when they got back to the townhouse, but Nick noticed him looking pointedly at the broken glass on the floor.
“Nick,” he said, turning around. “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet and so, so tired. Nick smiled a half-smile and put an arm around Gil’s shoulders.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It was just a fight. No biggie.”
Gil sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, “But you were right. I owe you the truth.” Nick looked at him, curious but not expectant. He’d take his cue from Gil this time.
“I wish I could tell you what’s been going on,” Gil said. “But I don’t think I can. Not right now.” Nick put his other arm around Gil and pulled him into a gentle hug. Gil returned it and for a while they just enjoyed each others presence.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Nick said. “But I do want you to talk to me.” Gil nodded against Nick’s shoulder and Nick kissed the side of his face.
“C’mon,” Nick said, pulling away just enough to walk. “Let’s get to bed. Been a helluva day.”
Given the weariness that was radiating off of Gil at the moment, Nick expected him to be barely capable of getting undressed before falling asleep. And while it surprised him when Gil cradled his face and kissed him so gently and yet so purposefully, he met the gesture in kind. He was taking his cues from Gil, after all.
They lay down on the bed, peeling each other’s clothes off, and Nick realized that what he’d identified as weariness was actually the strain of Gil trying to hold himself together. He kissed Gil’s face, his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest, all the while whispering to him to relax; telling Gil that he would take care of everything, that he didn’t need to hold it together anymore.
Gil sighed, in a shuddering, gasping kind of way, and melted under Nick. He ran his fingers idly over Nick’s shoulders and arms, but otherwise didn’t move at all. Nick lifted his head to see Gil’s face.
He was watching Nick, and Nick wondered if he knew what an open book his face was right now. The expression would have worried Nick, had it not been masked with arousal. Just behind the desire in Gil’s eyes, Nick could see something that made his heart ache, something that said, “Take care of me, Nicky. You’re the only one who can.”
It fueled his resolve, and he redoubled his efforts, making promises and assurances with his hands and mouth all over Gil’s body. Gil was gasping in addition to the usual assortment of pleased sounds that Nick had grown so used to but never tired of.
“Too slow,” he whispered, and Nick nodded. He reached with one hand to find the lube, the other hand on Gil’s shoulder, turning and guiding him onto his stomach. Honoring Gil’s request, he abandoned his impulse to tease further in favor of getting them ready as quickly as possible.
Gil made a noise that was half grunt, half sigh as Nick entered him. As much as he knew that Gil was far from being fragile and likely to break, he favored gentleness in his movements for as long as possible, until an urgent, needy noise from Gil prompted him to speed up and build intensity.
Nick slid a hand around to find Gil’s cock, and met Gil’s own hand already there. He touched the fingers lightly, twining his own through them, enjoying touching Gil as he touched himself.
Gil’s hand moved quickly, and Nick matched him in every way he could. He wanted to hold out until Gil came, but at this pace he was losing control to soon, and his orgasm was strong and fast.
Unable to take Gil with him, he turned the other man over and swallowed him down as far as he could and sucked for all he was worth. Surprised, Gil arched his back and bucked his hips against Nick, and then he was coming and Nick didn’t let go or move in the slightest until Gil stilled and his breathing quieted again.
He crawled back up to lie next to Gil - leaving kisses all along the way - and Gil pulled him down and held him against his chest. He was just starting to think that this would be a really nice way to nap for a while, when he heard Gil whisper something. He lifted his head.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I love you,” Gil said, tracing his hand over the side of Nick’s face. “I love you so much.” Nick smiled and bent to kiss him.
“Love you, too,” he said and snuggled back down next to him. “Even when you break our glassware,” he added. Gil rolled on his side to meet Nick’s eyes again.
“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said. Nick propped his head up on one arm to get a better look at Gil.
“No?” He tried to think of every non-verbal way he could imagine to get Gil to continue. As it happened, he didn’t need them.
“My father is the chief suspect in my murder case.”
Nick tried, really wanted, to speak, but could only manage some inarticulate noises.
“Ah-” he began, but Gil kept talking.
“No one else knows,” he said.
Well, that explained some things. That was certainly enough to make anyone throw a glass or two. Suddenly Gil’s actions seemed downright reasonable. There were a thousand things he could ask, and a few that he should ask.
“Are you all right?” he asked. That was the important one, after all.
Gil closed his eyes and shook his head, just a little. “I’ve wanted to put him away for good for most of my life,” he said. “And now, when I know he’s guilty, I can’t prove it.”
Nick put his hand to Gil’s cheek, stroking and comforting as much as he could. “You’ve never talked about your father before,” he began. Gil snorted.
“There’s a reason for that,” he said with no small trace of bitterness.
“Have you ever told anyone?” Gil shook his head, and Nick wasn’t surprised. “So tell me. Everything. Please.”
For a moment Nick was sure he’d refuse, but instead of turning away, he met Nick’s eyes. He was steeling himself. “I don’t know where to begin,” he said, helplessly.
“Your parents divorced when you were five, right?” Again, Gil nodded. “Start there.”
Gil took a deep breath. “I didn’t know most of the reasons why until I was much older,” he began. “He hit her. Not often, and most of the time she hit back. I’ll never understand why women put up with it.”
He stopped and looked away. Nick let him have his moments of silence. When something was big and important like this, Gil never just spat it out. But that was okay; Nick was patient.
“One day I saw him do it. That’s what changed everything. She kicked him out that day. She told me later that she didn’t want me growing up thinking that kind of thing was okay.” Nick grinned a bit at that and kissed Gil’s shoulder.
“We never saw him again. He might have tried to contact my mother, but I never knew about it if he did. I pushed her to tell me about him - any little boy would - but she refused. She said that when I was older she’d tell me everything.”
Gil stopped again to re-moisten his lips; a gesture that had as much to do with trepidation as necessity.
“And she did. When I was seventeen she told me everything; what he did to her, what he said to her, what kind of man he was.”
Nick wondered about this last comment, but didn’t want to interrupt. Gil apparently read his inquiring look.
“Drugs,” he elaborated. “Not using them; selling them. Mostly to our neighbors’ kids.”
Nick winced and Gil made an answering face. “Quite the role model, wasn’t he?” he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.
“Well, good for your mom. Not like I needed another reason to like her,” Nick observed, and that got a slight smile out of Gil.
“She didn’t tolerate much,” he agreed. “Not after him.”
“So tell me about your case,” Nick said. “How does he figure into that?”
“We found a DB in a parking lot. He worked for my father.”
“But you don’t have any way to pin it on him?” Gil shook his head.
“We have a faint motive. The crime scene was a complete wash. All we have is a glob of spit in the victim’s eye.” Grissom paused. “It’s familial.”
Nick stared at him. “You think-” he didn’t need to finish; Gil’s face was all the answer he needed.
“Growing up, all I wanted was a brother,” Gil said with ironic bitterness. “Now I’m investigating his murder.”
“Shit, Gil,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around Gil and pulling him close. “And all you've done is break a glass.” He pulled back to look at Gil.
“No one else knows about this?” he asked. Gil shook his head.
“The name threw them. Grissom is my mother’s name. She changed it back after the divorce. Still, I wonder how anyone missed it. I look like him.” He said it like it was a joke, and Nick supposed it was; the darkest, most unkind joke Nick had ever heard.
“Well, I suppose it’s a little harder to see with the beard,” Gil guessed. “Our victim doesn’t have a strong family resemblance - I didn’t see it right away - but it’s there.”
It seemed like this was all Gil was prepared to say for the moment. He tucked his head against Nick’s shoulder and didn’t move or say anything.
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Nick asked after a while.
“No,” Gil said. “He killed his son, his company is making purchases from China," he added emphasis to the word and glanced at Nick, "that definitely aren’t the Ming vases they’re claiming they are, and I have no way to prove it.”
“You think they’re a front for a drug ring?” Nick asked. Gil snorted.
“With my father? Yes. He's smart." Nick could hear how much he loathed admitting that.
"He has one prior for possession from years back, and he’s kept a low profile and stayed clean ever since. He’s real business is not getting caught. And he’s good at it.”
Nick thought of all the consoling things he could say; all the assurances he could give. But they were meaningless and they both knew it. They’d seen this kind of guy walk before.
He hugged Gil a little tighter and wished he could take care of this man himself.
Author: Knightmusic
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter)
Pairing: Gil/Nick
Summary: An orphaned girl and a murdered son, and Gil and Nick are left to discover the impressions a father leaves on the life of his child.
Author's Note/Warnings: Aaahh! There! It's done! Honestly, this was the most gruelling chapter I've ever tried to write. Which is odd, since I loved doing it. It was just....touchy. You'll see why (I hope). Anyway, thanks to laurelgardner for talking me through it, encouraging some ideas and killing others quickly and painlessly when I couldn't do it myself.
Disclaimer: I didn't own CSI when I posted the last chapter. Nothing has changed since then.
Previous chapters and related stories can be found here.
Nick had hoped that whatever had been bugging Gil yesterday afternoon would be more or less worked out of his system by the time he came home in the morning. Any such hope dissipated the minute he came in the door.
Some people had clouds hanging over their heads when they were upset. Gil came home with a thunderstorm low and rolling in the distance. The kind that made you, if you had any sense at all, retreat indoors and not even consider braving it.
Nick liked to think he had good sense, but unfortunately, there were times he had to ignore it.
“Hey,” he said, leaning against a wall and trying his best to be nonchalant. “What’s up?” Gil was making himself a drink: scotch and soda, by the looks of it. The only answer Nick got was a shrug.
Nick suppressed a sigh. He tried again. “Rough day?” he asked. Gil gave him a tired look over the top of his glasses.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and tension. He looked down at his glass, swirling the drink a few times, focusing intently on it. Then he tipped it back and drained most of it in one go, making a face afterwards.
“So what’s wrong?” Nick prompted. Gil was still looking down at the glass in his hand. He opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against his lips and upper teeth in his thinking-before-speaking gesture, but just shook his head instead of saying anything.
Nick crossed the room to put a hand on Gil’s shoulder. For a second it seemed like he would shake him off, but he allowed the contact. “You can talk to me, you know?” he said, as gently as he could.
Gil closed his eyes. “I’m fine, Nick,” he said, and finished off his drink. Nick frowned and touched Gil’s cheek, turning his head to look at him.
“You’re not fine. What’s going on?”
Now he did shrug away from Nick’s touch. Again, he looked like he was going to say something, but then just frowned. Nick crossed his arms over his chest and gave him an expectant look.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gil said finally, giving Nick an equally pointed look. He started to refill his glass.
“I think you should talk about this,” Nick returned. Gil glanced up, catching his eye only long enough for Nick to see the warning in it. This would be the time to stop if he was going to…
“Gil,” he said, putting a hand on Gil’s arm. Very slowly and deliberately he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think there’s anything wrong?” Gil said. He tried to toss it off, but the effort behind the words betrayed him. They came out with a mean, hard edge.
“What, aside from the fact that you’re trying to drink yourself stupid? On scotch and soda, which, if I may add, I happen to know you don’t like?” Nick still had his hand on Gil’s arm, and he gave it a slight rub as he spoke.
“I’ve never seen you do that before. I thought roller coasters were your style.” Or sex, lately, but he wasn’t going to mention that. He really didn’t feel like putting out at the moment.
“A roller coaster isn’t going to help,” Gil said. He took a sip of his drink; a more reasonable one this time. Nick sighed.
“So what will?” he asked. Gil’s frown got more intense.
“Just leave me alone for a while. I’ll be fine,” he said.
Most of the time, when Gil said that, Nick believed him. All it took was a few hours of down time, often by himself with a project or a book, and he would have shaken off whatever was weighing on his mind. But this wasn’t one of those times.
His grip was just a little too tight on the glass, his frown just a little too set, and his voice far too strained. Whatever was wrong might be off his mind in a few hours, but it wasn’t going to go away through the normal means.
Slowly, gently, Nick took Gil by the shoulders. “Let me help,” he said. “I can.”
“No, you can’t.” There couldn’t have been more venom in the words if Gil had shouted them. He shook himself away from Nick and glared at him.
“You can’t make this better, Nicky, no matter how much you want to. This is my problem.”
“Give me a chance to try. You might be surprised.” Nick’s voice was getting its own hard edge now, and by the look on Gil’s face, he clearly noticed.
“I don’t want to be surprised. I want you to mind your own business,” he said.
“My business?” Nick said, and the calm he’d managed to hang onto went out the window. “You’re my business, Gil! And when something’s making you this unhappy, I think I have a right to know about it!”
“And what about my right?” Gil fired back. “I think I have a right to decide when I want to talk about something and when I don’t.”
“Okay fine, you can play that card if you want. But you don’t get to blow me off like this. I care about you!”
“So then back off,” Gil said, unwrapping his index finger from his glass to point at Nick. “And I’m not blowing you off.”
Nick laughed, humorlessly. “Then what do you call it? Do you think I’m just overly curious? That I’m looking for gossip? Fuck that, Gil!”
“Nick-” Gil started, but Nick wasn’t about to be talked down now.
“I’m part of your life now. When you come home spitting fire like that, it affects me!”
“Nick!” Gil tried again, but Nick didn’t even hear him.
“What happened to trust and communication? Or do those just not apply when you’re the one feeling moody?”
Gil threw his glass.
Not at Nick, but across the room where it didn’t stand a chance against the stone floor. Ice skittered and the smell of scotch was suddenly thick in the air. Nick looked from the glass back to Gil, who was giving him a glare that was both chilling and blazing with rage.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gil said, his voice very low and controlled, but nearly breaking loose. Nick waited for him to elaborate, but instead he picked up his coat and left the house. A few seconds later he heard Gil start his Tahoe and drive away, and Nick wished he had something to break.
Instead, he went into the living room, kicking at a piece of ice on the way, and dropped onto the sofa. And sulked. He and Gil didn’t have fights very often - generally they could work out a problem before it got that far - but when they did they often ended up like this. The last time it had been Nick who’d walked out.
He didn’t want to sit around here waiting for Gil to come back, but he sure as hell didn’t want to go out looking for him, either. He had no idea what Gil did when he left a fight, anyway.
Well, two could play at that game. He grabbed his own jacket and keys and was out the door, not bothering to think about where he was going. Once on the road, habit took him to the lab. Gil’s car wasn’t there, and Nick sat in the parking lot for a while. He drummed on the steering wheel a bit, punched the radio on and off, looked at the entrance to the lab and made a face.
He pulled out of the parking lot. This was no better than kicking his heels around their townhouse. He drove aimlessly, considering and rejecting the idea of stopping for a burger, or a coffee or a beer.
After circling the same businesses for the umpteenth time, he was no longer cursing Gil out under his breath.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed their home number. The phone rang four times and the generic greeting on their answering machine picked up. That made Nick smile a bit. They’d tried to record a greeting of their own - “Leave a message for Nick or Gil after the tone” - but it had been shortly after Nick had moved in, and neither had been able to manage a clean take. The times they had managed to keep from laughing, they had tripped over the words instead. It was odd the things that made their relationship seem real.
Nick hung up. If Gil was home, he would have answered. He tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and wondered where Gil had gone. He wasn’t the type to drive in circles like Nick had been doing; he would have gone in search of a diversion.
Playing a hunch, he drove to Desert Palm. The nurse in the children’s ward smiled in recognition when he gave his name and directed him to Chloe’s room.
He heard Gil before he saw him.
“I don't understand how you can say that and claim you're doing your job!” Nick wasn’t the only one getting the business end of Gil’s temper today.
“Mr. Grissom,” the woman said, sounding like her reasonable tone was about to time out, “my responsibility is to the welfare of the child-”
“No it’s not,” Grissom interrupted, incredulous. “It should be, but that’s not how you’re behaving. If it was, you’d be trying to place her in a home with someone who could provide the support she needs, not wrapping her up in red tape.”
The woman’s mouth tightened into an unattractive frown. “Whether or not you or I like it, Mr. Grissom, there are procedures that need to be followed.”
Gil tossed his head, eyes rolling in a gesture of annoyed disbelief. “Believe me, I know all about procedure. And I know about efficiency.” He clearly could have gone on, but the woman held up a hand.
“That’s quite enough. As much as I would like to help you right now,” and Nick thought her face did a poor job of matching her words, “I have to be somewhere else. If you’ll excuse me.” She pushed past him and walked away down the hall.
Gil made a noise of utter disgust and shook his head. He looked up when Nick walked over to him.
“Hey,” Nick said.
“Hey,” Gil answered without inflection.
“So what was that all about?” Nick nodded in the direction of the retreating woman.
“Family services,” Gil said.
“Chloe?”
Gil nodded and let out a deep sigh. He didn’t say anything further, and Nick didn’t push. Despite the exchange he had just witnessed, Gil seemed calmer now. Or more accurately, he seemed tired; like this day had taken everything he had to give and more. Nick glanced up and down the hall; no one was in sight. He pressed a soft, quick kiss to Gil’s temple, and Gil let out a different kind of sigh.
“I’m astounded by the obstacles in place in the adoption process,” he said quietly. “I can help her. You and I could give her a good home. But all they see is paperwork.” Gil spat the last word as though it were a curse.
Nick rubbed a hand over Gil’s back. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Have you seen Chloe?”
Gil seemed grateful for the change of subject. “No. She was asleep when I got here. I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Well,” Nick said, peeking around the open door. “It looks like she’s awake now. Wanna go say hi?” Gil smiled for the first time that day.
“Yeah, I would. Come on,” he pulled Nick into the room.
It was the first time Nick had seen the girl since he met her at the crime scene. She still had a quiet, solemn look about her, but the minute she saw Gil, her face lit up in a brilliant smile. She sat up and signed something. He glanced over in time to see Gil’s response.
Not only was Gil wearing the first smile Nick had seen all day, it was the most open, joyful smile he had seen on his lover in a long time. He watched the two of them sign back and forth, not caring that he couldn’t understand a thing, just enjoying watching Gil. The more he observed, the more that smile seemed awfully familiar.
Chloe signed something and Gil laughed, then looked at Nick. “No,” he said, still signing as he spoke. “We’ll have to teach him.”
“That’s okay,” Chloe said to Nick. “I can talk instead.”
Nick found himself smiling irresistibly. “Well that’s very polite of you,” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to Chloe’s bed.
He had a nephew about her age. Sweet enough kid, well behaved; nothing like the monsters you meet in grocery stores. Nick liked his nephew, of course, probably would say he loved him if he ever saw him with any kind of regularity.
Chloe was something else entirely. Nick had never felt so thoroughly charmed. Well, except maybe by Gil, but that was another kind of feeling altogether. Maybe it was just that she laughed, and laughed hard, at all his jokes - something that always earned points with him - or maybe it had more to do with the effect she had on Gil.
Gil wasn’t charmed by her. He was completely in love.
* * *
Gil didn’t say anything when they got back to the townhouse, but Nick noticed him looking pointedly at the broken glass on the floor.
“Nick,” he said, turning around. “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet and so, so tired. Nick smiled a half-smile and put an arm around Gil’s shoulders.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It was just a fight. No biggie.”
Gil sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he said, “But you were right. I owe you the truth.” Nick looked at him, curious but not expectant. He’d take his cue from Gil this time.
“I wish I could tell you what’s been going on,” Gil said. “But I don’t think I can. Not right now.” Nick put his other arm around Gil and pulled him into a gentle hug. Gil returned it and for a while they just enjoyed each others presence.
“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Nick said. “But I do want you to talk to me.” Gil nodded against Nick’s shoulder and Nick kissed the side of his face.
“C’mon,” Nick said, pulling away just enough to walk. “Let’s get to bed. Been a helluva day.”
Given the weariness that was radiating off of Gil at the moment, Nick expected him to be barely capable of getting undressed before falling asleep. And while it surprised him when Gil cradled his face and kissed him so gently and yet so purposefully, he met the gesture in kind. He was taking his cues from Gil, after all.
They lay down on the bed, peeling each other’s clothes off, and Nick realized that what he’d identified as weariness was actually the strain of Gil trying to hold himself together. He kissed Gil’s face, his neck, over his shoulders and down his chest, all the while whispering to him to relax; telling Gil that he would take care of everything, that he didn’t need to hold it together anymore.
Gil sighed, in a shuddering, gasping kind of way, and melted under Nick. He ran his fingers idly over Nick’s shoulders and arms, but otherwise didn’t move at all. Nick lifted his head to see Gil’s face.
He was watching Nick, and Nick wondered if he knew what an open book his face was right now. The expression would have worried Nick, had it not been masked with arousal. Just behind the desire in Gil’s eyes, Nick could see something that made his heart ache, something that said, “Take care of me, Nicky. You’re the only one who can.”
It fueled his resolve, and he redoubled his efforts, making promises and assurances with his hands and mouth all over Gil’s body. Gil was gasping in addition to the usual assortment of pleased sounds that Nick had grown so used to but never tired of.
“Too slow,” he whispered, and Nick nodded. He reached with one hand to find the lube, the other hand on Gil’s shoulder, turning and guiding him onto his stomach. Honoring Gil’s request, he abandoned his impulse to tease further in favor of getting them ready as quickly as possible.
Gil made a noise that was half grunt, half sigh as Nick entered him. As much as he knew that Gil was far from being fragile and likely to break, he favored gentleness in his movements for as long as possible, until an urgent, needy noise from Gil prompted him to speed up and build intensity.
Nick slid a hand around to find Gil’s cock, and met Gil’s own hand already there. He touched the fingers lightly, twining his own through them, enjoying touching Gil as he touched himself.
Gil’s hand moved quickly, and Nick matched him in every way he could. He wanted to hold out until Gil came, but at this pace he was losing control to soon, and his orgasm was strong and fast.
Unable to take Gil with him, he turned the other man over and swallowed him down as far as he could and sucked for all he was worth. Surprised, Gil arched his back and bucked his hips against Nick, and then he was coming and Nick didn’t let go or move in the slightest until Gil stilled and his breathing quieted again.
He crawled back up to lie next to Gil - leaving kisses all along the way - and Gil pulled him down and held him against his chest. He was just starting to think that this would be a really nice way to nap for a while, when he heard Gil whisper something. He lifted his head.
“What was that?” he asked.
“I love you,” Gil said, tracing his hand over the side of Nick’s face. “I love you so much.” Nick smiled and bent to kiss him.
“Love you, too,” he said and snuggled back down next to him. “Even when you break our glassware,” he added. Gil rolled on his side to meet Nick’s eyes again.
“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said. Nick propped his head up on one arm to get a better look at Gil.
“No?” He tried to think of every non-verbal way he could imagine to get Gil to continue. As it happened, he didn’t need them.
“My father is the chief suspect in my murder case.”
Nick tried, really wanted, to speak, but could only manage some inarticulate noises.
“Ah-” he began, but Gil kept talking.
“No one else knows,” he said.
Well, that explained some things. That was certainly enough to make anyone throw a glass or two. Suddenly Gil’s actions seemed downright reasonable. There were a thousand things he could ask, and a few that he should ask.
“Are you all right?” he asked. That was the important one, after all.
Gil closed his eyes and shook his head, just a little. “I’ve wanted to put him away for good for most of my life,” he said. “And now, when I know he’s guilty, I can’t prove it.”
Nick put his hand to Gil’s cheek, stroking and comforting as much as he could. “You’ve never talked about your father before,” he began. Gil snorted.
“There’s a reason for that,” he said with no small trace of bitterness.
“Have you ever told anyone?” Gil shook his head, and Nick wasn’t surprised. “So tell me. Everything. Please.”
For a moment Nick was sure he’d refuse, but instead of turning away, he met Nick’s eyes. He was steeling himself. “I don’t know where to begin,” he said, helplessly.
“Your parents divorced when you were five, right?” Again, Gil nodded. “Start there.”
Gil took a deep breath. “I didn’t know most of the reasons why until I was much older,” he began. “He hit her. Not often, and most of the time she hit back. I’ll never understand why women put up with it.”
He stopped and looked away. Nick let him have his moments of silence. When something was big and important like this, Gil never just spat it out. But that was okay; Nick was patient.
“One day I saw him do it. That’s what changed everything. She kicked him out that day. She told me later that she didn’t want me growing up thinking that kind of thing was okay.” Nick grinned a bit at that and kissed Gil’s shoulder.
“We never saw him again. He might have tried to contact my mother, but I never knew about it if he did. I pushed her to tell me about him - any little boy would - but she refused. She said that when I was older she’d tell me everything.”
Gil stopped again to re-moisten his lips; a gesture that had as much to do with trepidation as necessity.
“And she did. When I was seventeen she told me everything; what he did to her, what he said to her, what kind of man he was.”
Nick wondered about this last comment, but didn’t want to interrupt. Gil apparently read his inquiring look.
“Drugs,” he elaborated. “Not using them; selling them. Mostly to our neighbors’ kids.”
Nick winced and Gil made an answering face. “Quite the role model, wasn’t he?” he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.
“Well, good for your mom. Not like I needed another reason to like her,” Nick observed, and that got a slight smile out of Gil.
“She didn’t tolerate much,” he agreed. “Not after him.”
“So tell me about your case,” Nick said. “How does he figure into that?”
“We found a DB in a parking lot. He worked for my father.”
“But you don’t have any way to pin it on him?” Gil shook his head.
“We have a faint motive. The crime scene was a complete wash. All we have is a glob of spit in the victim’s eye.” Grissom paused. “It’s familial.”
Nick stared at him. “You think-” he didn’t need to finish; Gil’s face was all the answer he needed.
“Growing up, all I wanted was a brother,” Gil said with ironic bitterness. “Now I’m investigating his murder.”
“Shit, Gil,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around Gil and pulling him close. “And all you've done is break a glass.” He pulled back to look at Gil.
“No one else knows about this?” he asked. Gil shook his head.
“The name threw them. Grissom is my mother’s name. She changed it back after the divorce. Still, I wonder how anyone missed it. I look like him.” He said it like it was a joke, and Nick supposed it was; the darkest, most unkind joke Nick had ever heard.
“Well, I suppose it’s a little harder to see with the beard,” Gil guessed. “Our victim doesn’t have a strong family resemblance - I didn’t see it right away - but it’s there.”
It seemed like this was all Gil was prepared to say for the moment. He tucked his head against Nick’s shoulder and didn’t move or say anything.
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” Nick asked after a while.
“No,” Gil said. “He killed his son, his company is making purchases from China," he added emphasis to the word and glanced at Nick, "that definitely aren’t the Ming vases they’re claiming they are, and I have no way to prove it.”
“You think they’re a front for a drug ring?” Nick asked. Gil snorted.
“With my father? Yes. He's smart." Nick could hear how much he loathed admitting that.
"He has one prior for possession from years back, and he’s kept a low profile and stayed clean ever since. He’s real business is not getting caught. And he’s good at it.”
Nick thought of all the consoling things he could say; all the assurances he could give. But they were meaningless and they both knew it. They’d seen this kind of guy walk before.
He hugged Gil a little tighter and wished he could take care of this man himself.