Title: What Happens In Vegas Ends Up In Fanfiction
Prompts: 10 Prompts from a 100 list
Author: Emono
Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas
Rating: PG-16
Pairing: Grissom/Greg
Warnings: All around slash, so brace yourself
Disclaimer: CSI is way too big to even attempt to mess with; all I have is my poetic license.
Beta: gil_follower
1. The look in your eyes
Greg flipped the straight-edge open, smiling into the mirror of the sink. He turned, brandishing it to his lover. Gil seemed calm, standing there with foam lathered across his cheeks and chin.
"Trust me?" Greg teased, waving the blade a little.
But Grissom only smiled, "Intimately."
Stepping closer, Greg looked into those intense jade eyes and knew it was true. He laid his hand on the side of his lover's head, fingertips burying in gray-tinged hair. Greg raised the blade, Grissom's head tilting to the side to give him more room. The brunette swallowed thickly, his hand giving a single jerk before he managed a clean swipe down the swell of his lover's cheek.
"Was that so bad?" Greg joked.
"Go on, sweetness" Gil let his fingers graze over the boy's hip "I trust you."
Greg nodded, smiling and finishing the job easily.
2: Umbrella
It was almost funny how rain could bring out the melancholy in the happiest person.
Greg pressed himself as close to the wall as possible, soaked throughout and hands clutching his knees to his chest. He rested his chin on them, sighing and highly aware of each drop of rain that hit his body. It had been raining for over three hours, and he had been sitting out on the stoop for one-and-a-half of them.
Greg sat there, contemplating the nature of the universe and such, when the rain stopped. He looked up, sable eyes wide and connecting straight with curious jade. Grissom stood there, brandishing an umbrella and looking amused.
"If you needed a key..." Grissom pulled out his own, it gleamed in the streetlight "All you had to do was ask, Greg."
Greg flushed, one day he would get this relationship-thing right.
3: Green
Something about Greg bothered Grissom, however small it was.
Whenever Greg was frustrated or anxious, like before his court hearings or when a case was stone-walled, he would do the most annoying thing.
"Grissom?"
The older man looked up sharply, "What?"
Greg paused at his door, merely staring him in the eyes. After a moment, his lips quirked into a soft smile and he shook his head, "Nothing."
Then Greg would walk away, every time.
And when Greg walked away, he knew Grissom could never know that just the sight of those brilliant emerald eyes could soothe him.
4: Studying
It was late at night in Las Vegas, halls dark in the Crime Unit. Only a few people still scuffled about, the night shift having a quiet night. Though some lingered reluctantly, waiting on busy lovers to finish paper work.
Greg wandered around his Grissom's office, taking the time to appreciate all the specimens and knick-knacks. His fingers grazed the surfaces of the cool jars, sable eyes looking them over from top to bottom. He took in all the information around him, making a few mental notes now and then on anything interesting.
Greg reached a particular plant that astounded him, it appeared to be a multiple-headed Venus Fly Trap. He got curious, biting his lower lip and standing on tippy-toes and easing his fingertip between the lips of the plant-
"Gregory!"
The harsh bark made him jerk, toppling back and landing straight on his ass. Grissom hadn't even looked up from his work, making notes of his own on the paper and glancing from the file and back to his notebook.
Jade eyes looked fierce behind his thick-rimmed glasses, "Gregory...don't touch that."
Greg flushed straight up to his blonde roots, "Sorry, Gil."
5: Outdoors
Greg's eyes were locked on the window from his bed, curtains pulled back and exposing the morning for what it was. It was beautiful to say the least, the morning light breaking through the trees and meeting the dew-dropped grass. Birds were calling softly from the trees just outside the window, rustling and creating soft music. The crickets had gone to sleep, and the bees were starting their rounds.
Greg noted that it was a perfect time for a quick run around the block, or to go get the mail, do anything outside really. He bet it felt nice, a cool breeze...
Greg started to get up, but a sleepy protest and a warm arm around his waist kept him still. Then again, he rethought, right here in bed was nice. It was warm, and his lover was curling around him to keep him from getting away.
"Stop moving" Gil grumbled, though the brunette knew a command when he heard it.
What was so great about the outdoors anyways?
6: Paranoia
"So..." Catherine came into Grissom's, sat right on his desk and glared down at him "Why haven't you accepted Greg's invitation to dinner?"
The man didn't even bother to look up, "It's really none of your business, Catherine."
"Yes it is, since I'm a supervisor now" she flipped back her blonde hair, huffing "He really likes you Gil, and it's taken him four weeks to work up the nerve to ask you out. You're not doing much for his confidence by turning him down flat by not talking to him at all."
Grissom glanced up at her, "I'm his boss."
"That's no excuse!" she snapped, but softened her voice at his flinch "Horatio, do you remember him from Miami? He reminds me a lot of you in some ways, and he's dating his junior."
Grissom was clearly surprised at this, "Who?"
"Speedle" Catherine replied, she had no qualms about breaking her promise to Horatio not to go spreading it around "That snarky, kinda scruffy guy. They've been boinking for months, and they're doing just fine."
"I see" Grissom's eye twitched at the word 'boinking' "Now that I've got those wonderful images in my head, we can get back the issue. I'm too old for him-"
"By what?" Catherine gave an uncharacteristic snort "A decade or two?"
Grissom tensed all over, "I think you should leave, Catherine."
"Ok, fine" Catherine hopped off the desk, looking annoyed "But I hope you know, you're breaking his heart."
She was halfway out of his office when he stood, removing his glasses. This caught Catherine's attention, so she turned back around with a knowing look. What she got surprised her, Grissom looked vulnerable and weary at the same time.
Grissom's voice was low as he spoke, "I know it won't work out."
"Why are you getting all paranoid about this?" she made a face, putting her fists on her hips "Why are you so set on failure?"
"Because..." Grissom's voice was a half-whine, begging her to understand "The last thing I want to do is hurt him."
"Then say yes" she implored, eyes shining "Try something new, go for it. Who knows? You might end up with something good at the end of the night."
Grissom rubbed a hand over his eyes, "Why are you so crude?"
She stuck out her tongue briefly, "I'm only crude because you're so anal."
Later, when Catherine was making her way down the hallway, she was joined by Nick.
Nick leaned in close, "Did he accept?"
"Saturday at eight" she grinned "Greg's making dinner for them both."
Nick glanced at his watch, "And he accepted by...?"
"Before six" she held out her hand "So you owe me thirty bucks."
"Damn" Nick muttered, pulling out his wallet "Missed by twenty minutes..."
7: Streak
Grissom's mouth never gaped, his jaw never dropped. This he prided himself on, for he was never surprised. It took...quite a bit to surprise Gil Grissom, and some people just didn't have what it takes. It was a nice streak he had put himself on, keeping a cool head and a critical eye.
But walking into his bedroom on Christmas Eve, finding it filled with candles and new silk sheets on the bed, made him gape.
Ok, not so much as those as it was Greg spread out naked and brandishing silk scarves.
8: Poison
The suspect wasn't budging, and Grissom was getting a tad annoyed. The man was gruff, an Australian who thought he could get away with anything as long as he spouted out racism and diplomatic immunity. Grissom had already called in someone for the crime scene photos, he hadn't expected it to come to this.
Apparently it was going to take the case file to rattle this man's cage.
Greg appeared at the door, clutching the case file and giving a shy smile. Grissom raised a brow at this, though he leant back in his chair and took a moment to run an eye over his lover. The brunette was dressed far too casually for work, wrapped up in those deliciously tight denim jeans that Grissom had made one or seven comments about. That t-shirt was a little tight across the chest, but Grissom wasn't about to call the whistle on one of his favorite sights at work.
The Australian, Marshall, turned in his seat and gave the boy a once over with a greedy look. Greg opened up the door, but his sneaker caught the threshold and he tripped right there. Pictures and notes made by Grissom himself skidded across the floor, his knees hitting the floor hard and his palms scraping the surface in an attempt to catch himself.
Greg flushed right up to his dyed roots, muttering an apology and a curse as he scrambled to pick up the articles he had lost. Knowing jade eyes flickered to Marshall, seeing how the Australian's eyes lit up while watching the brunette on his hands and knees.
"I...don' see why I can't help ya" Marshall announced thickly, biting his lip when Greg approached his chair and snatched up some of the fallen notes "The man I'd talk to...his name is Arthur Yaxley. His fingerprints are on everything moving from here to Sidney."
"Thanks" Grissom nodded curtly, standing up and walking around the table. The Australian didn't take care to notice, not with the pretty boy bobbing beside his chair. Fierce possessiveness flooded through Grissom that he hadn't felt in a long time, and with that poison in his veins he didn't care if this man was a suspect or a perp. He wasn't about to let his lover be ogled right in front of him, anyone who passed could see in.
Greg deserved better than that.
Grissom leant close to the Australian's ear, "...enjoying yourself?"
Marshall jumped violently in his chair, pushing away so hard that it caused Greg to shoot up off the floor. Grissom's eyes were burning intensely, but his demeanor was cool and it scared the Australian more than anything. Greg was clutching the folder close, sable eyes wide. Marshall gaped a bit, clearly shocked at being caught and the intensity the doctor showed by it.
"Don't ever let me catch you staring at CSI Sanders in such a salacious way again" Grissom stated, monotone as his hand shot out and seized the man by the lapel "Do you understand?"
The Australian nodded frantically, swallowing down a whimper.
"Good" Grissom forced the man on his feet, teeth almost bared in a snarl "Out."
Marshall quickly ran out, obviously scared by the quiet rage. Greg wasn't sure what to say, so he could only stare dumbly at his lover and fiddle with the edges of the folder.
Greg cleared his throat, "Uhm...Gil?"
"I should go tell Sara about the name, maybe she can dig up something akin to an address" Grissom seemed as calm as ever "Can you go inform Nick as well? He seemed adept to finding things Sara misses."
Greg nodded eagerly, "Of course."
Grissom was halfway to the door when he paused and turned back, "Oh, and Greg? Good job getting Marshall to confess a name."
The brunette flushed darker, "Yeah, no problem."
9: Gum; breath mints
Catherine observed the young CSI, a bit annoyed.
"Greg" she snapped, the boy looked up immediately "We've been working this case together all day. Not that it isn't a pleasure, really...but...could you stop popping those tic-tacs?"
Greg paused, his hand gripping his sea-green pack of tic-tacs and stopping an inch from his mouth. He smiled sheepishly, then closed it and stuffed it back into his pocket.
"Sorry, Catherine."
The blonde woman seemed satisfied for a second, then spoke up again.
"You've been eating those like M&M's all day, not to mention that same flavor for as long as I can remember...any particular reason?"
Greg flushed, "Kinda."
Even if he told Catherine the truth, she would never understand why he ate the mints throughout the day. It was a habit now, but for good reason. But it was his own secret, in a way, locked up tight.
Later, Greg was by himself and making his way to the lab. Catherine needed some results picked up, and since he was working with her-
Greg passed by a narrow hallway, strong hands grabbed him from behind and slammed him against the wall away from the busy part of the building. He couldn't get a sound of protest out past the mouth that claimed his own, a hot tongue meeting his and tasting him. Greg moaned, wrapped his arms tight around the man's neck, kissing back with all the force he was ravished with.
They only broke apart when their lungs burned, jade meeting his own and filled with mirth. Greg smiled, lips tingling.
"Hey" the man's voice was low, his own lips turning in a smile.
Greg leant in for another buss, "Back at ya, Gil."
Catherine would never know why he popped those particular tic-tacs.
Grissom licked his lips, "Mmm...Winterfresh...my favorite type of kisses."
He never knew when Gil would feel like a taste at work.
10: Wishing well; wishing fountain
It was well past midnight, Greg made sure he was all alone. He stood before a giant fountain, fists clenched and eyes trained on the glittering trails left by the water being spurted into the air. It was in the middle of a rather large courtyard, something pretty fancy and show-off-y that was perfect for Las Vegas.
Greg unclenched one of his hands, holding it up and brandishing a shining quarter.
"Ok, stupid coin, do your thing" he kissed it for luck, eyes clenched shut "I wish...damn. I really, really want Grissom to notice me. Please? Ok."
He tossed the coin up into the air, not daring to open his eyes until a heavy plunk echoed in the near-silent courtyard.
"Please..." Greg whispered, looking after it longingly before darting off.
Of course, he got his wish the next day at work. There had been a rather crumbled piece of paper on his desk, and he hadn't given a second thought about throwing it straight away. It was a mistake, because later (after trash pick-up) he found out that Grissom had put it on his desk and it was the only link between their suspect and the crime scene.
Grissom had been furious that he had thrown it away, and had immediately sent Greg on dumpster diving duty to recover the paper. It had taken four hours, and in the end he had returned to the lab with a severe limp and the piece of paper. He had fallen out of the second dumpster he had been in and twisted his ankle, but he had gone through two more afterwards. He showered quickly, wincing every time he shifted his weight, only to be scolded by Grissom for not getting right on the paper and for taking so long. Worst part, he was dripping wet and in a towel.
And, with an ice pack pressed to his swollen ankle, he processed the paper and they nailed their perp.
"Next time, I'm being way more specific with my wishes" Greg grumbled, seated on a bench in the locker room. With a pained hiss, he lifted his leg up and laid it down along the wooden bench "Damn wishing fountain, might as well as been a genie..."
"Greg?"
The brunette looked up, and there was Grissom with a shy smile and a guilty look.
"Uh, Grissom" Greg lowered his eyes "You're not going to yell at me again, are you?"
"No, not again" Grissom sat at the end of the brunette's leg, peering at his swollen ankle "It was an honest mistake, I should have kept it in the evidence bag. Are you...? Does it hurt terribly?"
"No" Greg flushed at the concern in his boss's voice "I'll be limping for awhile, but I'll just take some aspirin and be fine."
"Here, let me wrap it" the gentle tone struck Greg dumb, nodding dully as the older man pulled out a roll of medical wrap. Grissom folded back the edge of his pants, carefully placing his foot on his lap. Greg watched, fascinated at the concentration etched on Grissom's face as he began to wrap his ankle.
Greg started, "Uh...thank you."
Grissom only smiled, continuing his work on the twisted ankle.
Greg was ecstatic, he was going to wish for a new car next.
End