(no subject)
Title: Talisman 7/?
Rating: Hard R
Series: CSI/Angel
Pairing: Greg/Grissom, Greg/Wesley
Timeline: Wesley in his dark place and corresponding season of CSI
Summary: It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone's gonna get laid.
Warning: beta'd only by me. When done it will be shipped off to someone else to have its ass kicked in its entirety.
Previous parts can be found here.
Greg wakes up feeling like a relaxed puddle of goo. He decides it’s a good feeling and isn’t all that surprised considering the dearth of tension he’s gotten rid of. He stretches feeling a few good pops before wincing at the appearance of some mightily abused muscles.
“Sorry about that.” Wesley’s voice comes from across the room.
Greg cracks an eye open. “S’ok. Really. My idea remember?” He notices he’s been covered by a thin sheet. Propriety seems to have reasserted itself sometime after he’d been fucked unconscious. He’s found it usually works like that. “Shower?” He asks.
Wesley points to an anonymous door on the wall. “There are clean towels inside.”
Greg reaches over the edge of the bed and rescues his boxers from the floor, under the sheet he moves around awkwardly, reliving some weird junior high school gym class moment before they finally make it on. He stands and eyes his shirt warily. “I think its done for.”
“You can borrow one of mine, probably two.” Wesley rummages through his things. “You’re going to have to layer a bit in order to hide the bulge.”
Greg stumbles while picking up his jeans. Once wasn’t enough?
Wesley gives him a funny look before his eyes widen and he blushes. “Of the gun.” He clarifies, looking exasperated and embarrassed all at once.
Oh right. He knew that. He shuffles past Wesley, nodding as a clean shirt is tossed on top of the pile of things in his hand.
The shower is beyond bliss. The more he moves the more the strained muscles make themselves known, despite the lingering lassitude that remains. When he’s done he finds a throw away shaving kit and toothbrush along with a packet of advil. Greg smiles wondering just how guilty Wesley is feeling.
He emerges from the bathroom refreshed and bouncing obnoxiously. “Good shower, thanks for the stuff.”
Wesley nods. “Don’t forget the gun.”
Greg eyes it warily and sighs. He fumbles with it but manages to put the holster into place without looking too much like a fool. When he’s done he becomes aware of the weird tension in the room. “Hey, Wesley, its totally cool.” He says, fairly sure he even believes it. “Two consenting adults here.” He gestures between them. “And trust me when I say I really needed that.” He tries to smile in a way that’s reassuring. He’s fairly sure he fails on several levels.
Wesley rolls his eyes at him and begins shooing him out the door. “Go, I’ll call you when I have something. Try not to shoot yourself in the foot during the intervening hours.”
Greg mock glares at him in the doorway and they find themselves stuck in a weird post date/one night stand moment. Kiss? Hug? Shake hands? Run away screaming? They settle for stilted nods and muttered good byes.
Greg checks his watch and finds its only a few hours before night shift starts and all joking aside, he really does need someone to walk him through this whole gun thing a few more times.
He sits behind the steering wheel and runs a hand through his hair. He hits the appropriate speed dial on his phone, arguing in his head that there’s really no other person to call, not unless he wants to explain the whole situation again and risk getting carted off to the nuthouse.
“Grissom.” A sleepy voice answers.
Greg winces, he was asleep damnit.
“Hello?” Grissom’s voice asks, more alert this time.
“Hi.” Greg manages to say.
“Greg?”
“Got it in one, smart scientist man.” Oh god, is he flirting?
“What’s the matter?” Grissom’s voice is tight and tense.
Greg chews his lip. “I need a favor. Some help actually.”
There’s some rustling over the line before Grissom answers. “What can I do for you?”
Greg thinks that Grissom feels some sort obligation to help, maybe in return for not filing some sort of sexual harassment suit. Which is just stupid. Doesn’t mean he’s not going to take a little advantage of it. “I need you to teach me to shoot.”
There’s a loaded silence coming from Grissom.
“Please.” Greg adds.
A quiet sigh. “Meet me at the PD’s range. And don’t bring anything illegal.”
In other words, if he’s taken to breaking the law and doing silly things like filing down serial numbers or walking around with a concealed weapon and no paperwork, don’t drag Grissom into it. “Got it. No knocking over liquor stands on the way over.” Oh god, he really might be flirting. “Meet you in an hour?”
“An hour.”
A dial tone is the only indication that Grissom is no longer on the other end of the line. Greg takes a deep breath and starts driving towards a nearby diner, he has a feeling he’s going to need the calories.
*****
Grissom looks intensely uncomfortable when Greg pulls up. He doesn’t even get a chance to get out of the car before Grissom knocks on the passenger door demanding to be let in. Greg unlocks the door and watches him sit down.
“I have to ask why we’re doing this Greg.” Grissom says without preamble.
Of course he does, because first and foremost Grissom is a criminalist. Yeesh. “Because I need to be able to handle a gun without killing myself.”
“What about other people?” Grissom stares at him intently.
“Other people can get their own lessons.” Greg snaps.
“Greg!” Grissom leans in and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I actually *want* to help you. But I have to make sure I’m helping you do the right thing.”
Greg takes a deep breath and looks up at the roof of the car. “I don’t plan on breaking the law. I only plan on getting my talisman back. But I can’t tell you that it won’t be dangerous. I can’t tell you that I won’t do things you’re not going to like, I can’t tell you that I won’t do things *I’m* not going to like. But I can tell you that the gun I’m wearing right now,” in his peripheral visions he sees Grissom’s eyes widen at that piece of information, “has all the paperwork attached to it that you’ll ever need. But I need you to take me in there and teach me what I need to know to make sure I, or worse, some innocent bystander doesn’t get injured or killed.” He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done and he’s a little startled at his own outburst. Maybe he’s more scared than he realized. The gun poking into the small of his back doesn’t exactly leave him feeling very comfortable.
Grissom squeezes the shoulder under his hand and lets go. “Ok.”
They both can’t seem the shake the aura of uncomfortable as they fill out the paperwork and grab their gear.
Grissom stands behind him, fixing his stance, adjusting his shoulders, his grip, all the while giving him hints and details. Its all very professional. Eventually it blends into a detailed explanation of how a gun works, the physics, the chemistry, the math and that most of all makes Greg less nervous and more confident.
Eventually there isn’t any avoiding it, they put on their ear protection and Greg empties a clip into the target.
When its all done they examine the target.
“Not bad.” Grissom says. “However, this is a controlled environment who’s to say what would happen in an actual situation where you would need to shoot.”
Greg rolls his shoulders still stinging a bit from the unexpected recoil. He makes a note to work on his form. He stretches his neck, staring at the target. “I want to try it again.” When Grissom doesn’t say anything he turns to see Grissom staring at him. “What?” He asks.
Grissom points at his neck. “I don’t remember...” He clears his throat. “I don’t remember doing that.”
Greg’s hand flies to the bite mark Wesley left. “You didn’t.” He winces, eyeing the mark he *did* leave on Grissom.
Grissom’s head tilts in understanding. “Ah.”
Suddenly feeling incredibly guilty he says, “I’m sorry.”
Grissom immediately begins shaking his head and waving his hands in a dismissive motion. “Nothing to be sorry for, nothing to explain, not my business.” He hands Greg another clip. “Let’s try again, shall we?”
Greg takes in Grissom’s unperturbed demeanor and decides to do as he suggests, but can’t shake the lingering feeling of a heel like state.
The session ends with Grissom leading Greg off to the side where he is treated to a rigorous and detailed lesson on gun maintenance and what can happen if you get lazy. Greg thinks if he’d had time, there would have been poster boards and graphs and pamphlets with percentages. Maybe even a tour of the morgue.
Grissom isn’t satisfied until Greg can name all the parts and disassemble and reassemble the gun relatively quickly and without help. Two hours after they first enter the building Greg’s fingers ache and his wrists feel abused.
They step out of the building together and Greg finds the dig of the holster into the small of his back just a little bit less oppressive than before. They stop in front of Greg’s car.
“You aren’t planning anything foolish during tonight’s shift are you?” Grissom asks.
He shakes his head. “Nah, not tonight, tonight is for errands and laundry and my newest netflix dvd. Wesley needs some time to set up our foolish plan.”
Grissom gives him a wary look. “Greg, if I were to ask you to dinner,” he leans on Greg’s car arms crossed, “you wouldn’t feel compelled for any other reason, other than a personal preference about having dinner with me, to say yes?”
Greg blinks. “You mean, would I feel that my job would be threatened or that my working environment would become hostile if I were to say no?”
Grissom nods.
Greg furrows his brow and makes a big deal about thinking. Because really, he needs time to think and decide if this is a hypothetical question or not and if this would be a date or not. Also if he needs to have a panic attack. Because its Grissom. And wow. “Well. I wouldn’t feel pressured to say ‘yes’for fear of that. No, not if it were you asking.” There, take that Mr. NonAnswer.
Grissom just nods and takes in the answer, then he checks his watch. “I’m going to be late for shift.” He aims a warning finger at Greg. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” And he walks off to his car.
Greg watches him go. “Son of a bitch.” He mutters shaking his head. “Should have seen that coming.”
Two hours later he’s taken completely by surprise when there’s a sharp knock at his door. He opens it to reveal two police officers and an unfamiliar detective. His surprise continues through the arrest procedure and well into the drive down to PD.
Rating: Hard R
Series: CSI/Angel
Pairing: Greg/Grissom, Greg/Wesley
Timeline: Wesley in his dark place and corresponding season of CSI
Summary: It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone's gonna get laid.
Warning: beta'd only by me. When done it will be shipped off to someone else to have its ass kicked in its entirety.
Previous parts can be found here.
Greg wakes up feeling like a relaxed puddle of goo. He decides it’s a good feeling and isn’t all that surprised considering the dearth of tension he’s gotten rid of. He stretches feeling a few good pops before wincing at the appearance of some mightily abused muscles.
“Sorry about that.” Wesley’s voice comes from across the room.
Greg cracks an eye open. “S’ok. Really. My idea remember?” He notices he’s been covered by a thin sheet. Propriety seems to have reasserted itself sometime after he’d been fucked unconscious. He’s found it usually works like that. “Shower?” He asks.
Wesley points to an anonymous door on the wall. “There are clean towels inside.”
Greg reaches over the edge of the bed and rescues his boxers from the floor, under the sheet he moves around awkwardly, reliving some weird junior high school gym class moment before they finally make it on. He stands and eyes his shirt warily. “I think its done for.”
“You can borrow one of mine, probably two.” Wesley rummages through his things. “You’re going to have to layer a bit in order to hide the bulge.”
Greg stumbles while picking up his jeans. Once wasn’t enough?
Wesley gives him a funny look before his eyes widen and he blushes. “Of the gun.” He clarifies, looking exasperated and embarrassed all at once.
Oh right. He knew that. He shuffles past Wesley, nodding as a clean shirt is tossed on top of the pile of things in his hand.
The shower is beyond bliss. The more he moves the more the strained muscles make themselves known, despite the lingering lassitude that remains. When he’s done he finds a throw away shaving kit and toothbrush along with a packet of advil. Greg smiles wondering just how guilty Wesley is feeling.
He emerges from the bathroom refreshed and bouncing obnoxiously. “Good shower, thanks for the stuff.”
Wesley nods. “Don’t forget the gun.”
Greg eyes it warily and sighs. He fumbles with it but manages to put the holster into place without looking too much like a fool. When he’s done he becomes aware of the weird tension in the room. “Hey, Wesley, its totally cool.” He says, fairly sure he even believes it. “Two consenting adults here.” He gestures between them. “And trust me when I say I really needed that.” He tries to smile in a way that’s reassuring. He’s fairly sure he fails on several levels.
Wesley rolls his eyes at him and begins shooing him out the door. “Go, I’ll call you when I have something. Try not to shoot yourself in the foot during the intervening hours.”
Greg mock glares at him in the doorway and they find themselves stuck in a weird post date/one night stand moment. Kiss? Hug? Shake hands? Run away screaming? They settle for stilted nods and muttered good byes.
Greg checks his watch and finds its only a few hours before night shift starts and all joking aside, he really does need someone to walk him through this whole gun thing a few more times.
He sits behind the steering wheel and runs a hand through his hair. He hits the appropriate speed dial on his phone, arguing in his head that there’s really no other person to call, not unless he wants to explain the whole situation again and risk getting carted off to the nuthouse.
“Grissom.” A sleepy voice answers.
Greg winces, he was asleep damnit.
“Hello?” Grissom’s voice asks, more alert this time.
“Hi.” Greg manages to say.
“Greg?”
“Got it in one, smart scientist man.” Oh god, is he flirting?
“What’s the matter?” Grissom’s voice is tight and tense.
Greg chews his lip. “I need a favor. Some help actually.”
There’s some rustling over the line before Grissom answers. “What can I do for you?”
Greg thinks that Grissom feels some sort obligation to help, maybe in return for not filing some sort of sexual harassment suit. Which is just stupid. Doesn’t mean he’s not going to take a little advantage of it. “I need you to teach me to shoot.”
There’s a loaded silence coming from Grissom.
“Please.” Greg adds.
A quiet sigh. “Meet me at the PD’s range. And don’t bring anything illegal.”
In other words, if he’s taken to breaking the law and doing silly things like filing down serial numbers or walking around with a concealed weapon and no paperwork, don’t drag Grissom into it. “Got it. No knocking over liquor stands on the way over.” Oh god, he really might be flirting. “Meet you in an hour?”
“An hour.”
A dial tone is the only indication that Grissom is no longer on the other end of the line. Greg takes a deep breath and starts driving towards a nearby diner, he has a feeling he’s going to need the calories.
*****
Grissom looks intensely uncomfortable when Greg pulls up. He doesn’t even get a chance to get out of the car before Grissom knocks on the passenger door demanding to be let in. Greg unlocks the door and watches him sit down.
“I have to ask why we’re doing this Greg.” Grissom says without preamble.
Of course he does, because first and foremost Grissom is a criminalist. Yeesh. “Because I need to be able to handle a gun without killing myself.”
“What about other people?” Grissom stares at him intently.
“Other people can get their own lessons.” Greg snaps.
“Greg!” Grissom leans in and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I actually *want* to help you. But I have to make sure I’m helping you do the right thing.”
Greg takes a deep breath and looks up at the roof of the car. “I don’t plan on breaking the law. I only plan on getting my talisman back. But I can’t tell you that it won’t be dangerous. I can’t tell you that I won’t do things you’re not going to like, I can’t tell you that I won’t do things *I’m* not going to like. But I can tell you that the gun I’m wearing right now,” in his peripheral visions he sees Grissom’s eyes widen at that piece of information, “has all the paperwork attached to it that you’ll ever need. But I need you to take me in there and teach me what I need to know to make sure I, or worse, some innocent bystander doesn’t get injured or killed.” He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done and he’s a little startled at his own outburst. Maybe he’s more scared than he realized. The gun poking into the small of his back doesn’t exactly leave him feeling very comfortable.
Grissom squeezes the shoulder under his hand and lets go. “Ok.”
They both can’t seem the shake the aura of uncomfortable as they fill out the paperwork and grab their gear.
Grissom stands behind him, fixing his stance, adjusting his shoulders, his grip, all the while giving him hints and details. Its all very professional. Eventually it blends into a detailed explanation of how a gun works, the physics, the chemistry, the math and that most of all makes Greg less nervous and more confident.
Eventually there isn’t any avoiding it, they put on their ear protection and Greg empties a clip into the target.
When its all done they examine the target.
“Not bad.” Grissom says. “However, this is a controlled environment who’s to say what would happen in an actual situation where you would need to shoot.”
Greg rolls his shoulders still stinging a bit from the unexpected recoil. He makes a note to work on his form. He stretches his neck, staring at the target. “I want to try it again.” When Grissom doesn’t say anything he turns to see Grissom staring at him. “What?” He asks.
Grissom points at his neck. “I don’t remember...” He clears his throat. “I don’t remember doing that.”
Greg’s hand flies to the bite mark Wesley left. “You didn’t.” He winces, eyeing the mark he *did* leave on Grissom.
Grissom’s head tilts in understanding. “Ah.”
Suddenly feeling incredibly guilty he says, “I’m sorry.”
Grissom immediately begins shaking his head and waving his hands in a dismissive motion. “Nothing to be sorry for, nothing to explain, not my business.” He hands Greg another clip. “Let’s try again, shall we?”
Greg takes in Grissom’s unperturbed demeanor and decides to do as he suggests, but can’t shake the lingering feeling of a heel like state.
The session ends with Grissom leading Greg off to the side where he is treated to a rigorous and detailed lesson on gun maintenance and what can happen if you get lazy. Greg thinks if he’d had time, there would have been poster boards and graphs and pamphlets with percentages. Maybe even a tour of the morgue.
Grissom isn’t satisfied until Greg can name all the parts and disassemble and reassemble the gun relatively quickly and without help. Two hours after they first enter the building Greg’s fingers ache and his wrists feel abused.
They step out of the building together and Greg finds the dig of the holster into the small of his back just a little bit less oppressive than before. They stop in front of Greg’s car.
“You aren’t planning anything foolish during tonight’s shift are you?” Grissom asks.
He shakes his head. “Nah, not tonight, tonight is for errands and laundry and my newest netflix dvd. Wesley needs some time to set up our foolish plan.”
Grissom gives him a wary look. “Greg, if I were to ask you to dinner,” he leans on Greg’s car arms crossed, “you wouldn’t feel compelled for any other reason, other than a personal preference about having dinner with me, to say yes?”
Greg blinks. “You mean, would I feel that my job would be threatened or that my working environment would become hostile if I were to say no?”
Grissom nods.
Greg furrows his brow and makes a big deal about thinking. Because really, he needs time to think and decide if this is a hypothetical question or not and if this would be a date or not. Also if he needs to have a panic attack. Because its Grissom. And wow. “Well. I wouldn’t feel pressured to say ‘yes’for fear of that. No, not if it were you asking.” There, take that Mr. NonAnswer.
Grissom just nods and takes in the answer, then he checks his watch. “I’m going to be late for shift.” He aims a warning finger at Greg. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight.” And he walks off to his car.
Greg watches him go. “Son of a bitch.” He mutters shaking his head. “Should have seen that coming.”
Two hours later he’s taken completely by surprise when there’s a sharp knock at his door. He opens it to reveal two police officers and an unfamiliar detective. His surprise continues through the arrest procedure and well into the drive down to PD.