Breaking Up is Hard to Do…
…At Greg's home.
Part two.
Spoiler: On season 3, Gil told Sara that 'good intentions are fraught with disappointment,' but I can't remember the episode.
Grissom entered Greg's apartment and paused for a moment. He glanced around, looking for signs that Greg was home. The lights were off in the living room and, as far as he could see, they were off in Greg's room up in the loft too.
Cautiously, Grissom felt for the key rack next to the door and noted with relief that Greg's key was there. It meant he was home.
Grissom almost put his own key on the rack but then decided not to. They had parted in less than cordial terms earlier that night, after all. He didn't know if he was going to stay. It depended on Greg.
Gil sighed. He was dreading the confrontation but there was no use in putting it off. Reluctantly, he turned to the narrow stairs leading to Greg's bedroom.
In the dark, he didn't notice the object on the floor until he stepped on it. It was soft, and Gil instinctively knew what it was even before he bent down to pick it up. It was Greg's leather jacket.
It wasn't the first time he found Greg's jacket on that same spot. And not only this jacket but others, too. And shirts.
It was just a little game of Greg's; he'd take off his jacket and toss it in the air, then take the rest of his clothes as he climbed the stairs, leaving a trail for Grissom, who would follow at a leisurely pace. By the time Gil reached the landing, Greg was always lying in bed, naked, with his hands under his head and a big grin on his face.
The memory of Greg's little game was painful for Gil, who couldn't help wondering if somebody else had followed Greg into his room tonight. His first impulse was to try to find out –he even climbed a couple of steps. He wanted to know –he needed to know- and as a scientist, he wasn't afraid of the truth, regardless of how unpleasant it might be…
But as a lover, he lacked the self-confidence.
Gil stopped in mid-step and after a moment's hesitation, returned to his former spot at the foot of the stairs.
He'd never considered the possibility that Greg might bring someone home with him, and now he didn't know what to do.
Idly, he looked at the jacket he was holding. It wasn't genuine leather (Greg was as politically correct as Sara), but it had a nice texture. It felt good in his hands –though not as good as it did when Greg was wearing it. Not so long ago, for instance, he'd been standing on this precise spot, holding Greg in his arms, enjoying the feel of the young man's muscles under the supple leather.
He remembered feeling Greg's cheek rubbing against his own too, and the young man's warm breath as he whispered something in his ear –but what? Gil couldn't remember the words, only that they'd made him laugh.
Grissom lifted the jacket and held it close to his face. He breathed in the scent of the leather, but he also sensed another, elusive and loved: Greg's. With a little effort, he could imagine he was holding Greg again, laughing at his nonsensical words...
In that moment, Gil realized all that he stood to lose.
He regretted not taking Greg's help earlier that night; he regretted everything he'd done lately, actually. It was true that he had acted with the best of intentions but hadn't he said once that the best intentions were fraught with disappointment? Why didn't he remember this before making a mess of his relationship?
Gil looked up in the bedroom's direction again. There were no sounds coming from there. There were other sounds, however, and they were coming from the street below. That was odd. Greg usually managed to block the sounds of traffic by closing all the windows.
Gil glanced into the living room again and discovered that the slide window was ajar. He frowned; it wasn't like Greg to be this careless. Shaking his head, he crossed the room to close the window. Before he did, however, he noticed there was somebody was out there on the balcony, sitting on Greg's new reclining chair.
Cautiously, Grissom peered outside, only to find that it was Greg himself out there.
Grissom noiselessly stepped onto the balcony. Greg was asleep under the thick afghan that Nana Olaf had knitted for him. He was comfortably lying on his pride and joy, the reclining chair he'd bought at a police auction; a man had died on it but this fact didn't put him off. It was a good chair; a bargain.
Gil noticed something on Greg's lap. A SkyScout. Greg had been obviously stargazing before exhaustion finally caught up with him.
Grissom quietly stood there, looking down at his boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
The word felt odd. He still found difficult it to admit that yes, he had a boyfriend. A boyfriend he loved... A boyfriend he kept pushing away…
Grissom sighed. It was almost inaudible, but the sound woke up Greg.
"Grissom," he muttered, even before he opened his eyes.
Grissom was amazed by how perceptive he was.
"Hey, Greg," he whispered.
The young man opened his eyes.
"Gil -" he said, and then he looked around in confusion, as if he couldn't remember how he got there. He looked at Grissom again. "What're you doing here?" He frowned. "You found the kids?"
Gil nodded.
"They ok?"
"Badly hurt but alive," Gil said quietly. "They'd fell into a ditch, just a few feet away from the sewage waters. We got there just in time."
Greg sighed in relief. Then he closed his eyes. He shifted in his seat, making himself more comfortable and wrapping the afghan more tightly around himself. It looked like he was going back to sleep.
In the silence that ensued, Grissom picked up the SkyScout.
"You were watching the stars," he said.
"I like watching the stars," Greg muttered. After a pause, he added, "It helps me think."
"What were you thinking of?"
Greg opened his eyes but didn't look up. Either he was too sleepy to make the effort or he was more interested in the intricate designs of his afghan. Whatever the reason, he avoided looking at Gil.
"You," Greg answered quietly. "Me. This thing we call a relationship -"
He paused for a moment, then added, "You don't take it seriously, Grissom. You don't take me seriously, either."
Grissom found himself at a loss. He wanted to apologize but had the feeling that nothing he said would mend things between them. Luckily for him, Greg spoke again.
"You know what first attracted me to you?"
Grissom shook his head.
"Not really."
"You didn't play games," Greg said. "Bosses do, sometimes," he added, "Boyfriends -boyfriends do, all the time. But you didn't. I liked that. I was sick of playing games -"
Greg was speaking quietly, almost as if he were still half-asleep. When he spoke again, however, there was something close to disgust in the tone of his voice.
"And yet, I played one game tonight. I tried to make you jealous. Tried to blackmail you into letting me stay in the park -" He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "How pathetic is that."
Grissom didn't know what to say. He agreed with Greg that playing games was wrong and, yes, pathetic, but he knew better than to say that aloud.
"You found my jacket." Greg said.
Gil looked down. He still had the leather jacket in his hands.
"I put on my black jeans, too," Greg said conversationally.
"The tight ones?"
"The tight ones," Greg nodded. He looked at Gil in the eye, "You know what that means."
Gil nodded.
"You wanted to get laid."
"Yeah," Greg admitted. "I did."
Grissom looked down. He didn't want to hear it. Whatever it was that Greg did, he didn't want to know… But he couldn't just leave, either.
"I was all set to go, you know?" Greg said, "I got my jacket, walked up to the door…" he paused, "And then I chickened out. I couldn't do it. Couldn't even leave the house."
Grissom gulped audibly. He was relieved; he wasn't a jealous person but the thought that Greg could have been with somebody hurt more than words could say.
He cleared his throat.
"Greg," he paused. He still didn't know what to say, but he tried, "What I said earlier... It was the truth. You'd already worked two shifts in a row. You needed a rest -"
"So did you," Greg said quietly. "Being the boss doesn't give you any special superpowers, you know."
Gone was the anger that had fueled his words earlier in the night; Greg seemed too tired to argue. Weary. It was as if he'd given up on something.
"I gotta ask, Grissom," he said in the same quiet way, "Are you sick of this relationship?" He looked at Gil in the eye, "If you're bored with it, then you can say it. I'm a big boy; I can take it."
Gil shook his head.
"I'm not bored. Or sick."
Greg kept his gaze on him. He was waiting.
"It's just -" Grissom paused. He was trying to find a nice way of saying what he had to say, but deep down he knew there wasn't any. "Sometimes I wish things were the way they were before."
Greg frowned. It looked like this wasn't the answer he was expecting.
"Really," he said, and he couldn't keep the sarcasm out as he asked, "Why? Is the relationship cramping up your style or something?"
"It's not that," Gil said patiently. "Look. I just don't want your life to revolve around the job. We all need a diversion, Greg. Sometimes -"
But Greg didn't let him finish.
"You're giving me the 'You Need a Diversion' speech, Grissom?" he asked incredulously, "I was the one who talked you into this relationship, remember? I gave you a diversion. And it looked like you were ok with it."
"I was ok with it. I am ok -"
"It doesn't look like it is," Greg retorted. He didn't look tired or resigned, anymore. The more he spoke, the more lively he became, "You're never around –you know that. But hey, I understand that you're busy. But now you're avoiding me at work, too. You keep pairing me with others -"
"It's called 'rotation,' Greg -" Gil interjected, but Greg didn't seem to hear.
"- and now, every time I come to your office, Hodges is in there," Greg added spitefully at one point, "Perched on your desk, hovering-"
Grissom frowned.
"So what if he is?" he asked.
"So what?" Greg repeated incredulously, "You enjoy having him there, that's what. You certainly took his offer to stay and help you!"
Grissom's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Are you jealous of Hodges?"
"No, I'm not jealous!" Greg glared, but Gil's skeptical glance made him pause.
Greg was, after all, an honest man.
"Ok," he said reluctantly, "Maybe I am jealous. But then, who wouldn't," he added, "He's always there, sucking up to you and kissing your ass -"
"Figuratively," Grissom cut in quickly.
"You know what I mean," Greg glared. Then he looked closely at Gil, "You think this is funny?"
Gil's faint smile faded.
"Greg, this is Hodges we're talking about -"
"Hey, I'm not proud of feeling like this, Grissom. But he's always there, and that's a fact. And you know what the worst part is? You like having him there. Why don't you just admit it?"
Grissom didn't immediately answer. He was lost in thought for a moment and then, because he, too, was an honest man, replied, "You're right."
Greg's jaw dropped. He'd expected Grissom to deny everything, not to admit it so readily.
"You like having him there? Hodges?"
"It isn't Hodges, it's -" Gil hesitated. He didn't want to admit this but it was about time he did, "It's having someone drop by my office. I like that." He looked at Greg, "It used to be you. I miss that."
Greg was too surprised to reply.
"I miss you," Grissom said. "I miss having you come into my office to pepper me with questions, or to talk to me endlessly about something you did."
Greg's mouth moved but sound didn't immediately come.
"I still do that," he said at last.
Grissom shook his head.
"What I miss is the feeling that I was teaching you something."
"You still teach me things," Greg said.
Grissom smiled faintly and shook his head.
"Greg, there's very little I can teach you now. Trust me; you'll learn more by sticking to Nick or Sara or Warrick -"
"That's arguable," Greg replied mechanically. "And that's not the point here, anyway," He added. He looked at Gil, "You think I became involved with you just so I could learn more."
Gil mused on this for a moment.
"I believe it's a big part of it," he said. Greg was about to protest, but Gil continued, "I don't mind. The truth is, I'm more comfortable as a teacher than a boyfriend, Greg. I'm more confident," he added. "As a teacher, I know what to do or what to say, and I know what's expected of me. Whereas as a boyfriend -" He didn't finish.
Greg stared at Grissom for a moment.
"Well…" he began, "I don't want to ruin your little teacher-pupil fantasy Gil, but… the truth is, most of the times I went to your office, I already knew the answers to my questions."
Gil frowned.
"You did? They why did you -"
"'Cause it was the only way I could get your attention," Greg replied. "I had you all to myself, if only for just a couple of minutes. That's all I want from you, you know," he added, his tone softening, "Your company. At the lab or at home, or at some crime scene. Wherever. You're my diversion."
One of Gil's eyebrows arched.
"Oh." He said.
"Oh?" Greg repeated, "That's all you can say? I'm making this huge statement, and all you can say is 'Oh'?"
Grissom gave him a half smile.
"I never thought of myself in those terms, that's all."
Greg shook his head.
"You're an idiot, sometimes," he muttered. "But I'm an idiot, too," he added after a moment. "Trying to make you jealous was wrong, Grissom."
"But it worked," Gil said quietly. "I was jealous. When I saw the jacket on the floor, I was sure you had someone up there -"
"Oh, jeeze -" Greg muttered. "I'm sorry."
Grissom put the jacket on the table and sat on the edge of Greg's chair.
"I'm sorry, too," he said. "You were right; I've been keeping you away. I thought I was doing it for your own good –you know, giving you some space. It wasn't easy," he admitted, "The truth is, I wish I could be with you 24/7."
Greg's eyebrows rose.
"Really? 24/7?"
"Yeah. Here, at the lab, everywhere. But it wouldn't be fair."
"Forget about fair," Greg replied, "People would talk. Ecklie would pester you with questions about my work -" He stared at Gil for a moment. "I didn't know you felt that way about me," he said, "How come you never said anything?"
"Well, it wasn't the kind of thing I could just blurt out to you," Gil said reasonably, "Frankly, I thought it was a bit creepy to be this obsessed with you."
"Nah, you're not obsessed," Greg said dismissively. "You're just in love."
Grissom smiled faintly.
"Yes," he said.
"Here," Greg said, lifting a corner of the afghan and motioning Gil to get underneath.
Gil obeyed. He lay down and wrapped his arms around Greg. The chair creaked under their combined weight but they didn't worry; they knew the chair would hold up. The guy who died on it had weight half-a-ton.
Greg drew the afghan around Gil's shoulders and then pulled him closer until Gil was practically lying on top of him.
They sighed as they held each other.
"I'd missed this," Greg muttered, rubbing his cheek against Gil's.
"Me, too." Gil said. He lifted his head, "I'm sorry, Greg," he said. "What I said tonight -"
"It's ok." Greg said.
"Is it?" Gil asked. He couldn't believe Greg would let him off the hook this easily. "I thought you were going to -" he stopped. Frowning, he sniffed Greg's neck. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You reek of cologne," he said.
Greg rolled his eyes.
"Nice thing to say to the guy you're trying to win back," he said sarcastically. "For your information, that's a very expensive cologne."
"Well, it reeks," Gil said bluntly. "Besides, you don't need cologne."
"Yeah, well. I wasn't wearing it for you."
"Ah, yes." Gil snorted, "You were wearing it for some hypothetical guy who would supposedly fall for a skinny-assed guy in tight jeans and a leather jacket."
"You fell for that skinny-assed guy," Greg retorted.
"You weren't wearing cologne then."
"Oh, all right," Greg said, rolling his eyes again, "I'll wash it off. Only, you'll have to roll off me, Gil. You're practically smothering me."
Instead of rolling off, Gil wrapped his arms more tightly around Greg.
He sighed in contentment.
He was glad that they were talking so casually, almost jokingly, but the fact that they'd been on the brink of a break-up wasn't lost on him. There were things he knew he ought to say –apologies, promises… But he couldn't, right now.
"What's the name of that cologne, anyway?" he asked, "Something ridiculous like Erotique? Le Coq Enflammée? El Macho Apestoso?"
Greg chuckled.
"I'd missed that," he said. "The silliness. No one does silly like you." He was silent for a moment, then added, "It's like those questions I asked you; you gave me answers I already knew but you always managed to add something –a joke, or a little story. Somehow, you always ended up revealing something about yourself."
For a moment, they simply lay together, listening to each other's breathing.
"You were right," Greg said a while later, "I was tired. I fell asleep almost immediately. I thought I could be of help, but -"
"You would have," Gil said, "Adrenaline would have kept you up all night." He lifted his head in order to look at Greg. "I missed you at the search," he admitted.
"You did? What, the interns didn't help?"
Gil smiled at Greg's sarcasm.
"They made a mess," he admitted.
"And Hodges?"
"He bailed out from the start. Couldn't stand the sights and the smells."
Greg smiled.
"Wuss," he muttered.
Grissom smiled in complicity. Then his smile faded.
"I'll always have to be there, no matter what, Greg. I'm the boss."
Greg nodded.
"That's ok," he said, "As long as you let me help, now and then." He put his hand on the back of Gil's head, motioning him to lay his head down again.
"And listen," he said a while later. "My world isn't getting smaller. It used to be small," he admitted, "But that was before I met you. You made me want to go out and try new things. That's why I became a CSI –to be with you. If I hadn't fallen for you, I would have stayed in my lab, protected by those four walls. You know what I'm saying?"
When Gil didn't reply, Greg tilted his head to look at him.
The older man had fallen asleep.
Greg smiled. Ah, well, he thought as he closed his eyes. Maybe it was for the best. There was only so much mushy stuff one could tell a boyfriend in one night.
THE END