(no subject)
Title: Talisman 12/?
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.
Author’s note: So I feel the urge to explain that I end these sections where I do because to move onto the next chunk could easily double their length. I also feel that I’ve gotten out the next nice and shiny nugget of the plot for staring at and examining.
Just as an FYI, all sections are at least 1500 words long. Some closer to 2500.
Author's plea: Ok. *deep breath* You guys have been good. All those lurkers coming out of the ether to tell me all those wonderful things. I don’t have to ask again. Really. I don’t. *bites nails*
Previous parts can be found here.
Greg feels Grissom physically relax after they drop Wesley off. “I think he’s doing it on purpose.” He says.
“Being an ass?” Grissom asks, not taking his eyes off the road.
Laughing quietly, Greg nods. “That and the whole standoffish routine he’s got going. I think some of it is a little backlash from what happened the other night.”
The car jerks abruptly and a muscle in Grissom’s jaw jumps. “Let’s just save talk of that for another time, shall we?”
Greg’s eyes widen a little at the reaction, but he supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that much. “Sure. But first, pull over.”
This time Grissom gives him a startled look. “What?”
“Pull over.” Greg insists, pointing to a convenient spot on their right.
Grissom looks suspicious, but does as he’s asked.
Greg waits for the gear shift to hit park before grabbing the collar of Grissom’s shirt and dragging him into a hot and fast kiss. “We can talk, or not talk, about anything you want.”
Grissom takes several deep breaths and lets his right hand smooth over the skin on Greg’s neck, his thumb brushing lightly against the beginnings of stubble on his jaw line. “I’ve been told ‘not talking’ is the death knell in any relationship.”
Greg shudders and leans into the touch. “I can’t believe you said the ‘r’ word.”
“*You* can’t believe it?” Grissom smiles, leaning in, hovering gently over Greg’s face. “Imagine how *I* feel.” They kiss again, easily, softly. “And you’re never allowed to do this again.” He adds with good humor.
Greg nods, understanding. Work is work and the lines can’t be blurred or they’ll be dead in the water. “I wasn’t going to do this in the first place.” He says, giving Grissom one last squeeze before moving himself completely back to his side of the car. “But you looked like you needed it.”
Grissom shakes his head in amusement and pulls them back into the flow of traffic. “I’m just trying to head off a pavlovian response at the pass.”
Greg snickers all the way back to the lab.
Nick greets them on their way in looking far too serious for words. “Sheriff’s been looking for you.” He tells Grissom. “We told him you were checking out an old crime scene on a hunch, but since you didn’t tell us where you went...” He trails off, letting the accusation stand where it is. “Your cell phone should be ringing--”
Speak of the devil.
Grissom makes a sour face and answers. “Hello Sheriff,” he says and then listens intently. “No, I’m on my way in, I’ll meet you in my office in five.” He ends the call looking faintly queasy. “It’s been such a good evening, this should be the icing on the cake.”
Greg pats him on the shoulder. “We’ll hit a roller coaster or something at the end of shift.”
Grissom smiles weakly at him before casting a nervous glance at Nick. “Yeah, thanks.” He mutters before walking into the building.
Nick leans against the side of the building. “Now, intellectually I know that wasn’t what it looked like.” He says casually.
Greg raises an eyebrow. Because there’s friendly concern and then there’s borderline nosiness, but he forgives because Nick is probably just being a worry wart. “Nick my friend, I can most definitely assure you, that wasn’t anything close to what it looked like.”
Nick eyes him skeptically, but accepts the statement. “Then it’s time you got back inside before anyone notices that backlog get any bigger.”
“Geez, two hours and you people think it’s the end of the world.” Greg rolls his eyes. “Most of that wouldn’t have even been started tonight, all that’s backlogged is the paperwork.”
Nick flicks his ear and opens the door for him.
“Southern gentlemen, they’re such a special breed.” Greg teases.
Nick waves him off and heads in his own direction.
Greg is maybe a quarter of the way through his pile when he’s summoned to Grissom’s office. When Greg gets there, Grissom’s face looks pinched and Sheriff Atwater is sitting across from him looking bored.
“Ah, Mr. Sanders,” the Sheriff stands to greet him, “I was just being caught up on yesterday’s events.”
Ah, Greg Sanders goes to jail. Good movie title, bad resume entry. “I’m not suing or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The Sheriff is momentarily surprised at his statement, whether it’s because of the brashness or if he doesn’t think Greg grasps the greater political currents in the law enforcement structure, Greg has no idea.
“Well you’re not one to hide behind the bullshit I see.” Atwater finally says.
Greg shrugs. “My print on a bloody knife. What else could you do? Can I go back to work?”
Grissom gives him a sharp glance.
“Sorry.” He says immediately contrite. “I’m just behind tonight.”
“I didn’t see you in the lab earlier, is that how you got behind?” Atwater prods.
Greg frowns and tries not to let his irritation show. “I had some things to do and its amazing how being stuck in a holding cell on your day off can put a crimp in your plans. Supervisor Grissom was kind enough to give me a little time to take care of the most urgent matters.”
The Sheriff eyes Greg seriously. “That was very nice of him.” He says eventually. “You know you’re not to touch any evidence regarding that case?”
Greg resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It all goes to day shift, unless its urgent and then I’ve got an assistant who knows to handle it.”
“Well then all that’s left is to offer my apologies for the inconvenience.” Atwater stands and offers his hand.
Greg shakes it, mildly confused. Grissom motions for him to leave and he does so happily.
At the end of shift he snags Nick and pulls him over to a corner. “I just wanted to say thanks for being so cool about this, it had to of felt like a two by four to the back of the head.”
Nick runs a hand up the back of his head and speaks in a hushed voice. “Gotta say Greggo, it’s kind of a shock, but you made a good point earlier, so this is me trying to be ok with it.”
“Its different when its people you’ve known for a while isn’t it?” Greg says amiably. “I’m young and hip and do weird things with my hair so somehow its not as surprising.”
Nick looks embarrassed, but nods anyway.
Greg goes on. “But with someone who’s quirks tend to range toward the insect kingdom it tends to hit you in the gut.” He smiles cheekily. “Plus when you put the two together, it sort of makes your head explode.”
Greg gets a mild eye roll for that one, but Nick doesn’t contradict him. “So I have to ask a favor.” Greg says. “‘Cause it’s not always the third party whose head explodes. Give him some time to get his head around it.”
Nick’s eyes widen in shock. “You mean he... that is you... ok, now that’s just weird.”
“What?” Greg asks innocently. “I’m not enough to make someone jump ship?”
Nick eyes him, his head tilting in deep thought. “You? No... Now that Wesley character...” He trails off, face the picture of seriousness.
“I’m going to remember that.” Greg frowns nodding his head. “Oh yes, next time you’ve got some evidence that just *has* to be processed, we shall revisit this conversation.”
Nick punches him playfully in the arm, poker face broken. “We’re good Greg. Lips are zipped and I’ll walk around the topic as much as possible.”
“Cool.” Greg smiles offering Nick a handshake in the name of comprise.
Nick takes it and Greg feels just a little bit better.
By mutual agreement, Greg follows Grissom in his car to their first destination.
The roller coaster is exhilarating and leaves them energized enough to walk around for a while, in the still cool early morning, scouting out possible places to eat. They’re arguing over the benefits of a local Indian establishment over the untried Afgani place down the block when it happens.
The meaty arm comes out of nowhere and Greg is dragged into a back alley, throwing him against the wall, his face presses against the rough bricks. He dimly hears Grissom’s fear filled voice call after him, but its quickly swallowed up by the pain in his shoulder as its wrenched behind his back and held in a position not meant for in nature.
Greg cries out at the blow to the ribs, still feeling the sensation seconds after the act.
A dark, slimy, sweat filled voice whispers in his ear. “Is that old trinket worth this?” It says sending a frightened shiver down his spine. Whoever is holding him down twists his arm again and there’s a sharp burning sensation followed by a pop and unbelievable pain. He screams again, nausea clenching his stomach. The body pressing him into the wall fades away into nothing and Greg slides to the ground.
“Greg!” Grissom yells and he only vaguely hears it through the haze of pain. Gentle fingers check his pulse and try to move him into a more comfortable position, but it just creates another roll of pain. He wants nothing more than to never move again.
“If anyone comes looking for us, we’ll tell them the two faggots had it coming.” The faceless voice growls again before the distinct sounds of heavy footsteps can be heard fading into the background.
Grissom’s face hovers before Greg’s watering eyes and he knows something isn’t right about it, but he can’t bring himself to concentrate enough to figure out what. He’s having trouble breathing and Grissom is busy talking into his phone.
“....the alley behind the Pierre... send an ambulance....” When Grissom hangs up he clutches at Greg’s hand, the one not attached to the arm that feels like molten lava is flowing through it. “It’ll be ok Greg, help is on its way.”
Greg feels something cold and metal brush against him. He focuses for just long enough to see Grissom sit next to him, grip still tight on his hand, gun drawn, guarding and waiting.
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.
Author’s note: So I feel the urge to explain that I end these sections where I do because to move onto the next chunk could easily double their length. I also feel that I’ve gotten out the next nice and shiny nugget of the plot for staring at and examining.
Just as an FYI, all sections are at least 1500 words long. Some closer to 2500.
Author's plea: Ok. *deep breath* You guys have been good. All those lurkers coming out of the ether to tell me all those wonderful things. I don’t have to ask again. Really. I don’t. *bites nails*
Previous parts can be found here.
Greg feels Grissom physically relax after they drop Wesley off. “I think he’s doing it on purpose.” He says.
“Being an ass?” Grissom asks, not taking his eyes off the road.
Laughing quietly, Greg nods. “That and the whole standoffish routine he’s got going. I think some of it is a little backlash from what happened the other night.”
The car jerks abruptly and a muscle in Grissom’s jaw jumps. “Let’s just save talk of that for another time, shall we?”
Greg’s eyes widen a little at the reaction, but he supposes it shouldn’t surprise him that much. “Sure. But first, pull over.”
This time Grissom gives him a startled look. “What?”
“Pull over.” Greg insists, pointing to a convenient spot on their right.
Grissom looks suspicious, but does as he’s asked.
Greg waits for the gear shift to hit park before grabbing the collar of Grissom’s shirt and dragging him into a hot and fast kiss. “We can talk, or not talk, about anything you want.”
Grissom takes several deep breaths and lets his right hand smooth over the skin on Greg’s neck, his thumb brushing lightly against the beginnings of stubble on his jaw line. “I’ve been told ‘not talking’ is the death knell in any relationship.”
Greg shudders and leans into the touch. “I can’t believe you said the ‘r’ word.”
“*You* can’t believe it?” Grissom smiles, leaning in, hovering gently over Greg’s face. “Imagine how *I* feel.” They kiss again, easily, softly. “And you’re never allowed to do this again.” He adds with good humor.
Greg nods, understanding. Work is work and the lines can’t be blurred or they’ll be dead in the water. “I wasn’t going to do this in the first place.” He says, giving Grissom one last squeeze before moving himself completely back to his side of the car. “But you looked like you needed it.”
Grissom shakes his head in amusement and pulls them back into the flow of traffic. “I’m just trying to head off a pavlovian response at the pass.”
Greg snickers all the way back to the lab.
Nick greets them on their way in looking far too serious for words. “Sheriff’s been looking for you.” He tells Grissom. “We told him you were checking out an old crime scene on a hunch, but since you didn’t tell us where you went...” He trails off, letting the accusation stand where it is. “Your cell phone should be ringing--”
Speak of the devil.
Grissom makes a sour face and answers. “Hello Sheriff,” he says and then listens intently. “No, I’m on my way in, I’ll meet you in my office in five.” He ends the call looking faintly queasy. “It’s been such a good evening, this should be the icing on the cake.”
Greg pats him on the shoulder. “We’ll hit a roller coaster or something at the end of shift.”
Grissom smiles weakly at him before casting a nervous glance at Nick. “Yeah, thanks.” He mutters before walking into the building.
Nick leans against the side of the building. “Now, intellectually I know that wasn’t what it looked like.” He says casually.
Greg raises an eyebrow. Because there’s friendly concern and then there’s borderline nosiness, but he forgives because Nick is probably just being a worry wart. “Nick my friend, I can most definitely assure you, that wasn’t anything close to what it looked like.”
Nick eyes him skeptically, but accepts the statement. “Then it’s time you got back inside before anyone notices that backlog get any bigger.”
“Geez, two hours and you people think it’s the end of the world.” Greg rolls his eyes. “Most of that wouldn’t have even been started tonight, all that’s backlogged is the paperwork.”
Nick flicks his ear and opens the door for him.
“Southern gentlemen, they’re such a special breed.” Greg teases.
Nick waves him off and heads in his own direction.
Greg is maybe a quarter of the way through his pile when he’s summoned to Grissom’s office. When Greg gets there, Grissom’s face looks pinched and Sheriff Atwater is sitting across from him looking bored.
“Ah, Mr. Sanders,” the Sheriff stands to greet him, “I was just being caught up on yesterday’s events.”
Ah, Greg Sanders goes to jail. Good movie title, bad resume entry. “I’m not suing or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The Sheriff is momentarily surprised at his statement, whether it’s because of the brashness or if he doesn’t think Greg grasps the greater political currents in the law enforcement structure, Greg has no idea.
“Well you’re not one to hide behind the bullshit I see.” Atwater finally says.
Greg shrugs. “My print on a bloody knife. What else could you do? Can I go back to work?”
Grissom gives him a sharp glance.
“Sorry.” He says immediately contrite. “I’m just behind tonight.”
“I didn’t see you in the lab earlier, is that how you got behind?” Atwater prods.
Greg frowns and tries not to let his irritation show. “I had some things to do and its amazing how being stuck in a holding cell on your day off can put a crimp in your plans. Supervisor Grissom was kind enough to give me a little time to take care of the most urgent matters.”
The Sheriff eyes Greg seriously. “That was very nice of him.” He says eventually. “You know you’re not to touch any evidence regarding that case?”
Greg resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It all goes to day shift, unless its urgent and then I’ve got an assistant who knows to handle it.”
“Well then all that’s left is to offer my apologies for the inconvenience.” Atwater stands and offers his hand.
Greg shakes it, mildly confused. Grissom motions for him to leave and he does so happily.
At the end of shift he snags Nick and pulls him over to a corner. “I just wanted to say thanks for being so cool about this, it had to of felt like a two by four to the back of the head.”
Nick runs a hand up the back of his head and speaks in a hushed voice. “Gotta say Greggo, it’s kind of a shock, but you made a good point earlier, so this is me trying to be ok with it.”
“Its different when its people you’ve known for a while isn’t it?” Greg says amiably. “I’m young and hip and do weird things with my hair so somehow its not as surprising.”
Nick looks embarrassed, but nods anyway.
Greg goes on. “But with someone who’s quirks tend to range toward the insect kingdom it tends to hit you in the gut.” He smiles cheekily. “Plus when you put the two together, it sort of makes your head explode.”
Greg gets a mild eye roll for that one, but Nick doesn’t contradict him. “So I have to ask a favor.” Greg says. “‘Cause it’s not always the third party whose head explodes. Give him some time to get his head around it.”
Nick’s eyes widen in shock. “You mean he... that is you... ok, now that’s just weird.”
“What?” Greg asks innocently. “I’m not enough to make someone jump ship?”
Nick eyes him, his head tilting in deep thought. “You? No... Now that Wesley character...” He trails off, face the picture of seriousness.
“I’m going to remember that.” Greg frowns nodding his head. “Oh yes, next time you’ve got some evidence that just *has* to be processed, we shall revisit this conversation.”
Nick punches him playfully in the arm, poker face broken. “We’re good Greg. Lips are zipped and I’ll walk around the topic as much as possible.”
“Cool.” Greg smiles offering Nick a handshake in the name of comprise.
Nick takes it and Greg feels just a little bit better.
By mutual agreement, Greg follows Grissom in his car to their first destination.
The roller coaster is exhilarating and leaves them energized enough to walk around for a while, in the still cool early morning, scouting out possible places to eat. They’re arguing over the benefits of a local Indian establishment over the untried Afgani place down the block when it happens.
The meaty arm comes out of nowhere and Greg is dragged into a back alley, throwing him against the wall, his face presses against the rough bricks. He dimly hears Grissom’s fear filled voice call after him, but its quickly swallowed up by the pain in his shoulder as its wrenched behind his back and held in a position not meant for in nature.
Greg cries out at the blow to the ribs, still feeling the sensation seconds after the act.
A dark, slimy, sweat filled voice whispers in his ear. “Is that old trinket worth this?” It says sending a frightened shiver down his spine. Whoever is holding him down twists his arm again and there’s a sharp burning sensation followed by a pop and unbelievable pain. He screams again, nausea clenching his stomach. The body pressing him into the wall fades away into nothing and Greg slides to the ground.
“Greg!” Grissom yells and he only vaguely hears it through the haze of pain. Gentle fingers check his pulse and try to move him into a more comfortable position, but it just creates another roll of pain. He wants nothing more than to never move again.
“If anyone comes looking for us, we’ll tell them the two faggots had it coming.” The faceless voice growls again before the distinct sounds of heavy footsteps can be heard fading into the background.
Grissom’s face hovers before Greg’s watering eyes and he knows something isn’t right about it, but he can’t bring himself to concentrate enough to figure out what. He’s having trouble breathing and Grissom is busy talking into his phone.
“....the alley behind the Pierre... send an ambulance....” When Grissom hangs up he clutches at Greg’s hand, the one not attached to the arm that feels like molten lava is flowing through it. “It’ll be ok Greg, help is on its way.”
Greg feels something cold and metal brush against him. He focuses for just long enough to see Grissom sit next to him, grip still tight on his hand, gun drawn, guarding and waiting.