Fic: BFF (2/6) A continuation of Facing Up...
Title: BFF (2/6) A continuation of Facing Up…
Author: Dee
Rating: R
Word Count: 2056
Pairings: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil, Nick and some team members and an OMC
Warnings: Fluff and (very) AU
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: jayceepat and podga for their invaluable help in the Americanisation of the fic and their insightful comments - which I may well have ignored! I thank high_striker for his wonderful icons. I am indebted to them all. Any errors are mine.
A/N: This is Part Two of an ongoing saga…in seven parts so far. It will help if you’ve read ‘Facing Up’, which I posted back in February.
BFF Part Two
Nick was impressed with himself; despite the major trauma he was currently undergoing, he was certain that no one (for ‘no one’ - read Gil Grissom) had picked up on this new turmoil. They’d been very busy at work and that’d helped to mask his anxiety.
Ed had upped his prescription, quite substantially, from his low dose of anti-depressants and although he’d been told it could be several weeks before their effect actually kicked in, Nick chose to believe in the ‘placebo effect’ - that just because he was taking them they were helping, regardless of whether they were or not.
It’d happened so suddenly. He’d been prepared to talk about anything and everything and had been encouraged by Ed’s assessment of his progress and prognosis. But he’d been blindsided by a revelation he hadn’t remembered - he’d hoped it’d never happened - but that assertion was untrue. What made it worse was that it had been triggered by an evening spent with Gil. An evening he’d enjoyed so much and had thought Gil had too.
At his next session he’d mentioned this particular evening and the consequences. He’d known there was something not quite right; he couldn’t put his finger on it but Ed had probed further and like projectile vomiting (and Nick had thought about this analogy after the event), it was spewing forth from his mouth, an incident that’d happened when he was sixteen. At first he thought that it was buried so far beneath his consciousness he had truly forgotten it. But, whatever, it was back with a vengeance.
Young Nick was sports mad, not only was he an ‘A’ student but he was on the school hockey and baseball teams and a major player with the soccer team. Out of season he practised regularly - it kept him away from his family and home and he was happy about that, although he would have denied that information if he’d been quizzed. If the weather was bad or as the nights got darker there were only half a dozen or so ‘die-hards’ who would turn up.
He was friendly with a boy nearly a year older than him. Mitch was a good looking boy with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was also a good student and a good all-round athlete and was, everyone agreed, a nice boy. He was destined, like Nick, for good things - for the top.
This one Saturday about ten of them had trained; it was cold and damp and the late afternoon sun faded more quickly than usual with the overcast sky. Most of the boys had packed up and gone and Mitch and Nick had volunteered to stay behind to tidy the locker room and clean the equipment. This was no hardship for Nick, it meant less time at home.
Neither boy had showered and Mitch said he was going to do so, then he’d be ready to go out later with his friends. He’d invited Nick to go with him to meet his friends since he would know most of the ‘crowd’ anyway, but Nick felt that he would be an intruder and the ‘crowd’ would see him as a boy of sixteen to their ‘grown up seventeens’.
But Nick had decided to shower too; it would delay him going home for at least another thirty minutes. They were not shy in the communal shower; they’d both done team sports long enough for it to be normal.
Nick could honestly not remember if he had stared at Mitch as they showered, but he clearly remembered Mitch getting his attention and holding a burgeoning erection in his hand and asking whether Nick was able to ‘produce the goods’. Of course Nick had been masturbating virtually daily for at least two years - he’d been really worried that he could actually be blinded by it, but had read some school stuff that had assured him that was a fallacy….a ‘phallacy’?
What Nick remembered, now, was that just the question and the sight of Mitch pumping his hand up and down had been enough for three things to happen simultaneously. A whole body flush - he was sure his toes were blushing and his ears were certainly burning. His own dick was almost instantly hard - as hard as Mitch’s. And, he had a grin on his face that he would later learn to call ‘shit eating’.
Mitch was aware of these facts and grinned back; he moved in towards Nick until their dicks were touching and caught hold of both of them together with his hand and told Nick to hold on too. Nick did what he was told, without question, and he was transported to a heaven he’d never experienced before - an alien hand on him.
How much more wonderful, hotter, tighter, smoother, rougher, and everything else it was, than his own hand. He thought that he may have thirty seconds before his load would be dumped on their hands. He was sure it would be the happiest thirty seconds of his entire life.
Then something else happened, and this event was what probably caused all of the problems from then, right up to his present days in Las Vegas. Mitch used his spare arm to wrap around Nick’s neck and pulled Nick in close to him and kissed him full on the mouth.
If the mutual jerking was sexual excitement personified the kiss transported him to an entirely different plain. It was open mouthed, wetter even than the water from the shower and Mitch’s tongue plunged as far into Nick’s mouth as it could go, feeling Nick’s own tongue, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. It was sensational in every aspect.
Nick knows that he moaned and that his climax overcame him, just as Mitch came too. Nick fell back against the shower wall and Mitch went with him still clinging to him. They were both gasping for air and certainly Nick was properly sexually satisfied for his very first time, in his short life.
Mitch eventually pulled away and they washed themselves down in silence although both had shy glances at each other; strangely, neither boy felt embarrassed at themselves or their bodies. When they’d dried off and were packed up and ready to leave Mitch told Nick to think about him during the week and that he’d see him next Saturday and he kissed Nick on the lips again, but chastely this time. Like Nick might kiss a girl.
Nick never did see Mitch that next Saturday, or any other day for that matter. On the Wednesday following the best night of Nick’s life, Mitch, his younger sister, Paige and their mother were killed in an auto wreck.
The whole school mourned but Nick was beyond devastated and in his mind their deaths equated to the punishment for his (and Mitch’s) enjoyment of their sordid encounter in the shower.
(It would be a very long time before Nick experienced the same pleasure he’d had that Saturday evening with Mitch.)
Nick relived the devastation he’d felt at Mitch’s death but it was now further compounded by his lost memory of the event. He could not understand HOW he’d forgotten THAT, when it had such a profound effect on his life at the time.
He had forsaken sports, as indeed had other team mates, and concentrated on his academic studies, but somehow he’d forgotten to remember. Ed explained that it was a classic system of coping; it was beyond his youthful comprehension so his mind had shut it out.
Nick was still confused about it, because he remembered every single detail of the babysitter’s assault on him, but this was far more significant and he’d just forgotten. Again Ed had tried to explain that Nick’s memories of the assault had been kept intact because it was an attack on him, he hadn’t invited it or wanted it and as terrible as it was, on its own, there wasn’t another major trauma associated with it.
The experience with Mitch was Nick’s first sexual encounter and had been thrilling and illicit and then it had been followed, almost immediately, by the terrible trauma of Mitch’s tragic death, along with his mother and sister.
In Nick’s mind there was no one left to blame but Nick, so he blamed himself, but somewhere along the line and it could have been weeks, months or years, but was likely to be a few months, Nick’s brain just said ’enough is enough - I can’t cope with this’ so shut it out completely.
But there were no hard and fast rules about this sort of emotional trauma, they were individual events. Circumstances at the time often dictated what the outcome could or would be. For a hundred traumas that were basically the same, there could be a hundred different responses.
Nick was able to grasp this concept but then he had to move into another arena and try and come to terms with why an evening with Gil Grissom triggered his memory of Mitch.
Ed had a theory about this too, but was sure to tell Nick that it was only his theory and that together they would need to spend time exploring Nick’s relationship issues - but he assured Nick, as he had a fair number of times before - this was never an easy journey to make but if you wanted to reach a final destination intact and in control, then these detours and potholes had to be negotiated.
Ed had been able to double the sessions over the next few weeks, at Nick’s request - Nick wanted to get to the root of the problem. Nick’d had enough and as much he groaned, inwardly, at the ‘journey’ analogy he needed to complete that journey. He’d been stuck in the no passing lane for too long - even he was contributing to the analogy - but in his case he wanted a road race, not a gentle drive down memory lane. Ed was willing to go so far but would put the brake on to slow it down if there was too much agony and introspection for Nick to deal with comfortably.
Nick had ached to share the analogy with Gil - they would have laughed and surely made some jokes about it - but Nick was now at a loss to imagine what could be funny about the mess he’d conjured up. And, to compound all of this, once again Nick Stokes was contemplating leaving Las Vegas.
Nick had told Ed about the evening spent with Gil at his condo. The barbeque and beer had been good and the conversations even better - relaxed and friendly. What had particularly struck Nick that night was how much of his own life Gil had been prepared to share with him. Gil was a very private man and it was his privilege to hear the stories of Gil’s childhood and youth and about his mother who seemed to Nick to be just about perfect - he remembered that Gil had told him, before that night actually, that his mother had insisted on a hug every day. Nick could not summon up one memory of his own mother hugging him.
Gil had told him funny stories, about his relationship with his chemistry set and sad stories, about the loss of a favourite dog; they’d spent hours together, longer than they normally did at each other’s homes.
Gil had made fun of himself and his ‘emo’ status and Nick had berated him, because despite what he thought he had turned Nick’s life around. If Gil had not visited his condo on that fateful day, Nick would’ve left Vegas and his problems would’ve just continued, spiralling out of control. Nick did have to concede, at Gil’s insistence, that Gil had exacerbated the situation beforehand.
But the evening had been wonderful, and when Gil had left they’d both been relaxed and as happy with the world as they could be - given their particular circumstances. It had struck Nick that maybe Gil wasn’t actually a ‘private person’ at all - he just didn’t know how to share because he’d never had anyone with whom to share. This made Nick feel very content with himself, with Gil, and, what the heck, with the world.
The trouble had started after Nick had fallen asleep.
End of Part Two
Author: Dee
Rating: R
Word Count: 2056
Pairings: Gil/Nick
Characters: Gil, Nick and some team members and an OMC
Warnings: Fluff and (very) AU
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: In my dreams they are like, totally mine!
Beta: jayceepat and podga for their invaluable help in the Americanisation of the fic and their insightful comments - which I may well have ignored! I thank high_striker for his wonderful icons. I am indebted to them all. Any errors are mine.
A/N: This is Part Two of an ongoing saga…in seven parts so far. It will help if you’ve read ‘Facing Up’, which I posted back in February.
BFF Part Two
Nick was impressed with himself; despite the major trauma he was currently undergoing, he was certain that no one (for ‘no one’ - read Gil Grissom) had picked up on this new turmoil. They’d been very busy at work and that’d helped to mask his anxiety.
Ed had upped his prescription, quite substantially, from his low dose of anti-depressants and although he’d been told it could be several weeks before their effect actually kicked in, Nick chose to believe in the ‘placebo effect’ - that just because he was taking them they were helping, regardless of whether they were or not.
It’d happened so suddenly. He’d been prepared to talk about anything and everything and had been encouraged by Ed’s assessment of his progress and prognosis. But he’d been blindsided by a revelation he hadn’t remembered - he’d hoped it’d never happened - but that assertion was untrue. What made it worse was that it had been triggered by an evening spent with Gil. An evening he’d enjoyed so much and had thought Gil had too.
At his next session he’d mentioned this particular evening and the consequences. He’d known there was something not quite right; he couldn’t put his finger on it but Ed had probed further and like projectile vomiting (and Nick had thought about this analogy after the event), it was spewing forth from his mouth, an incident that’d happened when he was sixteen. At first he thought that it was buried so far beneath his consciousness he had truly forgotten it. But, whatever, it was back with a vengeance.
Young Nick was sports mad, not only was he an ‘A’ student but he was on the school hockey and baseball teams and a major player with the soccer team. Out of season he practised regularly - it kept him away from his family and home and he was happy about that, although he would have denied that information if he’d been quizzed. If the weather was bad or as the nights got darker there were only half a dozen or so ‘die-hards’ who would turn up.
He was friendly with a boy nearly a year older than him. Mitch was a good looking boy with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was also a good student and a good all-round athlete and was, everyone agreed, a nice boy. He was destined, like Nick, for good things - for the top.
This one Saturday about ten of them had trained; it was cold and damp and the late afternoon sun faded more quickly than usual with the overcast sky. Most of the boys had packed up and gone and Mitch and Nick had volunteered to stay behind to tidy the locker room and clean the equipment. This was no hardship for Nick, it meant less time at home.
Neither boy had showered and Mitch said he was going to do so, then he’d be ready to go out later with his friends. He’d invited Nick to go with him to meet his friends since he would know most of the ‘crowd’ anyway, but Nick felt that he would be an intruder and the ‘crowd’ would see him as a boy of sixteen to their ‘grown up seventeens’.
But Nick had decided to shower too; it would delay him going home for at least another thirty minutes. They were not shy in the communal shower; they’d both done team sports long enough for it to be normal.
Nick could honestly not remember if he had stared at Mitch as they showered, but he clearly remembered Mitch getting his attention and holding a burgeoning erection in his hand and asking whether Nick was able to ‘produce the goods’. Of course Nick had been masturbating virtually daily for at least two years - he’d been really worried that he could actually be blinded by it, but had read some school stuff that had assured him that was a fallacy….a ‘phallacy’?
What Nick remembered, now, was that just the question and the sight of Mitch pumping his hand up and down had been enough for three things to happen simultaneously. A whole body flush - he was sure his toes were blushing and his ears were certainly burning. His own dick was almost instantly hard - as hard as Mitch’s. And, he had a grin on his face that he would later learn to call ‘shit eating’.
Mitch was aware of these facts and grinned back; he moved in towards Nick until their dicks were touching and caught hold of both of them together with his hand and told Nick to hold on too. Nick did what he was told, without question, and he was transported to a heaven he’d never experienced before - an alien hand on him.
How much more wonderful, hotter, tighter, smoother, rougher, and everything else it was, than his own hand. He thought that he may have thirty seconds before his load would be dumped on their hands. He was sure it would be the happiest thirty seconds of his entire life.
Then something else happened, and this event was what probably caused all of the problems from then, right up to his present days in Las Vegas. Mitch used his spare arm to wrap around Nick’s neck and pulled Nick in close to him and kissed him full on the mouth.
If the mutual jerking was sexual excitement personified the kiss transported him to an entirely different plain. It was open mouthed, wetter even than the water from the shower and Mitch’s tongue plunged as far into Nick’s mouth as it could go, feeling Nick’s own tongue, his teeth, the roof of his mouth. It was sensational in every aspect.
Nick knows that he moaned and that his climax overcame him, just as Mitch came too. Nick fell back against the shower wall and Mitch went with him still clinging to him. They were both gasping for air and certainly Nick was properly sexually satisfied for his very first time, in his short life.
Mitch eventually pulled away and they washed themselves down in silence although both had shy glances at each other; strangely, neither boy felt embarrassed at themselves or their bodies. When they’d dried off and were packed up and ready to leave Mitch told Nick to think about him during the week and that he’d see him next Saturday and he kissed Nick on the lips again, but chastely this time. Like Nick might kiss a girl.
Nick never did see Mitch that next Saturday, or any other day for that matter. On the Wednesday following the best night of Nick’s life, Mitch, his younger sister, Paige and their mother were killed in an auto wreck.
The whole school mourned but Nick was beyond devastated and in his mind their deaths equated to the punishment for his (and Mitch’s) enjoyment of their sordid encounter in the shower.
(It would be a very long time before Nick experienced the same pleasure he’d had that Saturday evening with Mitch.)
Nick relived the devastation he’d felt at Mitch’s death but it was now further compounded by his lost memory of the event. He could not understand HOW he’d forgotten THAT, when it had such a profound effect on his life at the time.
He had forsaken sports, as indeed had other team mates, and concentrated on his academic studies, but somehow he’d forgotten to remember. Ed explained that it was a classic system of coping; it was beyond his youthful comprehension so his mind had shut it out.
Nick was still confused about it, because he remembered every single detail of the babysitter’s assault on him, but this was far more significant and he’d just forgotten. Again Ed had tried to explain that Nick’s memories of the assault had been kept intact because it was an attack on him, he hadn’t invited it or wanted it and as terrible as it was, on its own, there wasn’t another major trauma associated with it.
The experience with Mitch was Nick’s first sexual encounter and had been thrilling and illicit and then it had been followed, almost immediately, by the terrible trauma of Mitch’s tragic death, along with his mother and sister.
In Nick’s mind there was no one left to blame but Nick, so he blamed himself, but somewhere along the line and it could have been weeks, months or years, but was likely to be a few months, Nick’s brain just said ’enough is enough - I can’t cope with this’ so shut it out completely.
But there were no hard and fast rules about this sort of emotional trauma, they were individual events. Circumstances at the time often dictated what the outcome could or would be. For a hundred traumas that were basically the same, there could be a hundred different responses.
Nick was able to grasp this concept but then he had to move into another arena and try and come to terms with why an evening with Gil Grissom triggered his memory of Mitch.
Ed had a theory about this too, but was sure to tell Nick that it was only his theory and that together they would need to spend time exploring Nick’s relationship issues - but he assured Nick, as he had a fair number of times before - this was never an easy journey to make but if you wanted to reach a final destination intact and in control, then these detours and potholes had to be negotiated.
Ed had been able to double the sessions over the next few weeks, at Nick’s request - Nick wanted to get to the root of the problem. Nick’d had enough and as much he groaned, inwardly, at the ‘journey’ analogy he needed to complete that journey. He’d been stuck in the no passing lane for too long - even he was contributing to the analogy - but in his case he wanted a road race, not a gentle drive down memory lane. Ed was willing to go so far but would put the brake on to slow it down if there was too much agony and introspection for Nick to deal with comfortably.
Nick had ached to share the analogy with Gil - they would have laughed and surely made some jokes about it - but Nick was now at a loss to imagine what could be funny about the mess he’d conjured up. And, to compound all of this, once again Nick Stokes was contemplating leaving Las Vegas.
Nick had told Ed about the evening spent with Gil at his condo. The barbeque and beer had been good and the conversations even better - relaxed and friendly. What had particularly struck Nick that night was how much of his own life Gil had been prepared to share with him. Gil was a very private man and it was his privilege to hear the stories of Gil’s childhood and youth and about his mother who seemed to Nick to be just about perfect - he remembered that Gil had told him, before that night actually, that his mother had insisted on a hug every day. Nick could not summon up one memory of his own mother hugging him.
Gil had told him funny stories, about his relationship with his chemistry set and sad stories, about the loss of a favourite dog; they’d spent hours together, longer than they normally did at each other’s homes.
Gil had made fun of himself and his ‘emo’ status and Nick had berated him, because despite what he thought he had turned Nick’s life around. If Gil had not visited his condo on that fateful day, Nick would’ve left Vegas and his problems would’ve just continued, spiralling out of control. Nick did have to concede, at Gil’s insistence, that Gil had exacerbated the situation beforehand.
But the evening had been wonderful, and when Gil had left they’d both been relaxed and as happy with the world as they could be - given their particular circumstances. It had struck Nick that maybe Gil wasn’t actually a ‘private person’ at all - he just didn’t know how to share because he’d never had anyone with whom to share. This made Nick feel very content with himself, with Gil, and, what the heck, with the world.
The trouble had started after Nick had fallen asleep.
End of Part Two