Yeah Timmy was still around. Lurking. He hadn't much shown himself because he was tired. Sick and tired of most everything, which just put him in a real pissy mood most of the time so that sent him on a little vacation
( ... )
Seeing Tim hit him like a punch below the belt. He couldn't breathe. Tim didn't sound as happy to see him as he'd been surprised to see Tim. "I didn't mean it like that. I just haven't seen you in so long, I thought you went back to Miami." Grissom probably would have run if the shoe was on the other foot. His last encounter with Tim wasn't the happiest of circumstances, but at least Gil tried to keep it civil.
"That didn't sound so good either. I'm sorry. What have you been doing with yourself?" Gil's small talk was awkward at best. He'd been thrown for a loop, and with everything else that had happened, it was a miracle he didn't just pin Tim against the wall and plant one on him like he meant it. And he did mean it.
Timmy just half turned, looking up at the older man. His own heart was just barely beating at this point. His eyes dart to Grissom's lips as they form each word.
What he wanted right now was Gil. Wanted him so fucking bad his body ached but he sat perfectly still. He simply couldn't forget that Grissom chose Sara. That was it.
Tim just shrugs slowly, looking away. "You've been busy." He states quietly, mostly under his breath though the venom was still in his tone.
Gil's legs were still wobbling. Tim had always had that effect on him. His tone was so frosty, Gil could imagine his breath fogging as it hit the warmer air of the lab. "Well, we still are the number two lab in the country." Gil croaked out.
Grissom was faced with the choice of either sticking around and facing his boogeyman, or fleeing while Tim was looking the other direction. His mind said run, but his feet were firmly rooted. Fuck! Gil stood frozen to his spot, feeling impotent and like the shitheel he was. He should have never given up the one person who made him happy.
Timmy tried to ignore Gil, the tone he was using. "You're so weak." He breathes out, it's barely even audible. Tim was still hurt and angry..really very angry.
His palm slaps firmly against the tabletop. Every muscle inside of him was knotted as he glares down at the microscope. His tone.. his voice, however, never raises.
"I meant you. You.. have been very busy lately. And how is your wife doing." The word is spit out and after a moment, Timmy goes back to looking into the microscope.
Timothy lay there, taking in Grissom's remarks. Gil appeared honestly upset that Timmy had mentioned those two together. But Timmy wanted to know what Grissom has been doing..besides Sara, lately.
Speed quirked a brow, smirking at the term, "Necking huh." Then he flat-out smiles at the revelation. "Greg knows? Tell him to stop on by. Me and him can..discuss it." He chuckles quietly, eyes closing once again, completely relaxed. Except for the book digging against his lower back and the heavy thing pressed between his legs.
Then Grissom continues and Timmy shivers a little bit, eyes cracking open as they turn toward Gil. Tim was faintly amused and there was a soft shade of red coloring his cheeks. His arousal was growing. "We already did that. But I rode Nicky. He loved it..I made him beg." He says quietly, never taking his eyes off of Gil.
Gil frowned. The last person he'd send to see Tim would be Greg. "Not likely. I'm sure he has better things to do than to have to run away from a horny Tim Speedle. Nick is still mad at me...nevermind." Gil almost spilled the beans to the most jealous person he knew. They were not seeing each other, but that still didn't mean that Tim wouldn't freak out and go pound on Nick for punching him. And then come back and beat him for his little indiscretion.
Gil's frown deepened. Nick? When the hell had he slept with Nick? It was bullshit. It had to be. "I hope that was good for you. You needed the exercise."
Timmy watches Grissom carefully. Gil was hiding something. Something was wrong. Timmy sits up, knocking the book on his chest and groin to the floor as he slides his rump off the desk.
"You're fucking with me." He says quietly, facing away from Gil, tugging on his shirt to straighten it. "You don't have to tell me though, i'll find out." Timmy shrugs. Oh, he was angry but he kept it all inside. No more outbursts. He wouldn't give these people the satisfaction. Just another excuse to use to hurt himself. But he liked the pain anyway.
Timmy glances up at the clock, still facing away from Gil. "Your results should be ready pretty soon, i'll go fetch them for you. Sir." And the word couldn't have been spit out with more saracasm or disdain if he tried. Tim heads for the door, never looking back at Gil.
Gil flinched as the books hit the floor. Fuck. Me and my big mouth. Gil wished that he could read into Tim's mind, see what was going on in there, find out what he had to do to fix things between them. He didn't have much to go on, but he'd obviously pushed one or more of his buttons. "Who's fucking with who? You've twisted me into knots since the first time you showed up in Vegas. I don't know where I stand with you, never did, never will." Gil felt a flutter in his chest, nerves on full alert, and anxiety creeping in.
Before he could say anything else, Tim left him with that flip comment, swimming in venomous sarcasm. "Fine, good, whatever." He wasn't even sure if Tim had heard him, but at this point he wasn't worried about it. It wasn't that important. He was miserable again, and all he wanted to do was go hide somewhere for the next ten, fifteen, twenty years.
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"That didn't sound so good either. I'm sorry. What have you been doing with yourself?" Gil's small talk was awkward at best. He'd been thrown for a loop, and with everything else that had happened, it was a miracle he didn't just pin Tim against the wall and plant one on him like he meant it. And he did mean it.
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What he wanted right now was Gil. Wanted him so fucking bad his body ached but he sat perfectly still. He simply couldn't forget that Grissom chose Sara. That was it.
Tim just shrugs slowly, looking away. "You've been busy." He states quietly, mostly under his breath though the venom was still in his tone.
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Grissom was faced with the choice of either sticking around and facing his boogeyman, or fleeing while Tim was looking the other direction. His mind said run, but his feet were firmly rooted. Fuck! Gil stood frozen to his spot, feeling impotent and like the shitheel he was. He should have never given up the one person who made him happy.
Reply
His palm slaps firmly against the tabletop. Every muscle inside of him was knotted as he glares down at the microscope. His tone.. his voice, however, never raises.
"I meant you. You.. have been very busy lately. And how is your wife doing." The word is spit out and after a moment, Timmy goes back to looking into the microscope.
Reply
Timothy lay there, taking in Grissom's remarks. Gil appeared honestly upset that Timmy had mentioned those two together. But Timmy wanted to know what Grissom has been doing..besides Sara, lately.
Speed quirked a brow, smirking at the term, "Necking huh." Then he flat-out smiles at the revelation. "Greg knows? Tell him to stop on by. Me and him can..discuss it." He chuckles quietly, eyes closing once again, completely relaxed. Except for the book digging against his lower back and the heavy thing pressed between his legs.
Then Grissom continues and Timmy shivers a little bit, eyes cracking open as they turn toward Gil. Tim was faintly amused and there was a soft shade of red coloring his cheeks. His arousal was growing. "We already did that. But I rode Nicky. He loved it..I made him beg." He says quietly, never taking his eyes off of Gil.
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Gil's frown deepened. Nick? When the hell had he slept with Nick? It was bullshit. It had to be. "I hope that was good for you. You needed the exercise."
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"You're fucking with me." He says quietly, facing away from Gil, tugging on his shirt to straighten it. "You don't have to tell me though, i'll find out." Timmy shrugs. Oh, he was angry but he kept it all inside. No more outbursts. He wouldn't give these people the satisfaction. Just another excuse to use to hurt himself. But he liked the pain anyway.
Timmy glances up at the clock, still facing away from Gil. "Your results should be ready pretty soon, i'll go fetch them for you. Sir." And the word couldn't have been spit out with more saracasm or disdain if he tried. Tim heads for the door, never looking back at Gil.
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Before he could say anything else, Tim left him with that flip comment, swimming in venomous sarcasm. "Fine, good, whatever." He wasn't even sure if Tim had heard him, but at this point he wasn't worried about it. It wasn't that important. He was miserable again, and all he wanted to do was go hide somewhere for the next ten, fifteen, twenty years.
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