A/N: OMG! A second chapter. Who knew? I'd like to thank all of the wonderful people who gave me all those nice reviews!

Nick frowned. "The Canary? Who is that? I don't remember the lab having any contacts under that alias."

Grissom looked at Nick. "That's because he's not, necessarily, a contact of the lab. He's one of my personal contacts."

"Well, what kind of personal contact is this Canary?" Nick asked.

"The kind that would be able to get us into any establishment, he's that good." Grissom said.

Nick didn't know if Grissom was purposely being evasive because this Canary was a shady character, or because there was something that Grissom didn't think he needed to know until it was absolutely necessary, and the guy was already on their doorstep. Neither thought pleased Nick.

"So, when are you getting in contact with him?" He asked.

"As soon as you leave this office and get briefed by Brass."

Nick sighed. "Fine. We done here?"

"Yes."

With that, Nick walked out of Grissom's office. Sara, however, stayed behind.

"Grissom, what are you-?" She started.

"It's the only way. That last DB, that was a friend of the DA's son. The one before that was a cop's nephew. Someone with a lot of power, and a lot of guts it taunting the LVPD. They are not quite commiting crimes that would have a S.W.A.T team beating down the door of the Void, but they're coming pretty close. I have a feeling that if we don't bring him in, it's going to be a lot worse, and it's all going to fall on me." Grissom interrupted.

"So, this is all about you trying to save yourself? Don't you even care about what kind of trouble you could be exposing him to, again? I couldn't stand it if we were responsible for something like that happening to him again," she said, crossing her arms.

Grissom walked up to Sara and rubbed her arm. It bothered him that she still cared so much for another man, besides him. "Sara, it's what he does, what he likes to do. What happened before was just a fluke. If he really felt like his life was in danger, he could always say no. You know him, you can't force him to do anything."

Sara smiled, looking reassured. "I guess you're right. Just try and be careful this time. I couldn't stand it if Greg was hurt again."

Grissom caressed her cheek and she leaned into the touch. "You have my word."

After everyone had left when their shifts were over, Grissom took out his cell phone and dial a number that he hadn't dialed in six months. He held it up to his ear, and listened to it ring.

Someone picked up. /What/

Grissom rolled his eyes. "Is that any way to answer a phone, Greg?"

There was a sound of recognition on the other end. /Gris? Long time, no call./ Greg said. He was half surprised that Grissom had called him, and half not. Grissom had never went longer than three months without calling him for one reason or another, thought the reason was most likely work related for Grissom. Now that he thought about it, Greg couldn't remember a time where Grissom had called just for the hell of it, and not because he wanted him to do something for him.

"Yes, sorry about that," Grissom said, not sounding very sorry at all. "I had a lot of work to do."

/For six months/

"Look, I'm just going to come out an say what I have to say. I need you to do something for me," Grissom said, impatiently.

Greg laughed. /I was wondering how long it would take you to get around to that. You're really predictable, man, that gets to be not so attractive after a while./

Grissom ignored his comment. "I need you to get me and another male csi into Club Void."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Well?" Grissom asked.

/You're fucking kidding me, right/

"I don't kid," Grissom replied.

There was silence again, but this time, it didn't last as long. /No. There's no way that I could make that work./ Greg said after a while.

"And why not?" Grissom asked.

/I could lose all my creds, if I march in there with a couple of stone-faced csis. There's no way that you could pull off the whole 'sugar daddy' act. I'm not even gonna comment on the arm-candy bit./ Greg laughed, but then grew serious. /And I don't want what happened last time to happen again. Ever./

Grissom sighed. "I gave you six months to heal."

Greg snorted. /You gave me six months to 'heal', is that what you call it? I don't think that dumping me in a hospital after I was attacked by that psycho, and severing all contact with me for six months is something that would make me 'heal', do you/

Grissom ground his teeth together, a bad habit that he realized he only did around Greg. "No. Look, Greg, I need you. There's no one else who could pull this off. You've got the body, the personality, and the contacts." Grissom sugar-coated his words, knowing that it was the best way to wear the younger man down. Things definitely wouldn't go his way if he said what he really wanted to say. "It's not like I can send Brass down there in a pair of skin-tight leather pants, and expect to be let to be let in."

There were choking noises on the other end of the line. /Oh, ew! You did not just say that. Bad mental image! You just made me spit perfectly good coffee all over myself./ Greg, who was clad in only a pair of boxers, simply took them off and threw them in the vicinity of his room. He went to the kitchen, got a paper towel, wet it and proceeded to wipe off his stomach and lap.

Grissom tried not to snicker, he really did.

/Are you laughing at me/ Greg asked, nearly screeching into the phone.

"No, no. Why would I do that?" Grissom composed himself. "Please, Greg." He waited.

/Shit, Grissom! Why can't I say no to you/ Greg sounded defeated, something he noticed that he only ever did around Grissom.

"I don't know." He did know, but he wasn't going to say it out loud.

/Where should we meet? The diner? Three a.m./ Greg asked. It was their usual place to meet when Grissom needed to talk to him face-to-face.

"Yes, that would be good."

/Yeah./ Greg hung up. He didn't believe in saying goodbye.

The diner was a fairly secluded mom and pop owned business. Despite the location, it always seemed to amass large crowds in the late mornings and afternoons. Even with all the crowds of people that came in, the waitresses and cooks all knew Greg and Grissom. They were an odd sight to behold. Grissom, with his salt and pepper hair, and stern face would barely said a word. While Greg, on the other hand, was young, with blond highlights in his hair, odd clothes and what seemed like boundless energy, talked the older man's ear off. Many of the workers were surprised when they saw Greg come in every few months to have breakfast with Grissom, they were so sure that the older man would tire of his incessant chatter and kill him, he looked so annoyed every time Greg opened his mouth. Greg never noticed.

Grissom and Nick were the first to arrive at the diner. A young Black waitress greeted Grissom, and introduced herself to Nick. She was wide awake, no walking around half dead, like some waitresses Nick had known did. She was obviously used to the nightshift. "My name's Emerald, but you can call me Emmie. I'll be your waitress this morning." She said all this for Nick's benefit. She'd known Grissom ever since she had started working there.

Nick smiled at her. "Hi, I'm Nick." He offered her hand and she took it. She smiled at him. She was a very attractive woman. Nick made a mental note to remember this place.

She led them over to a surprisingly secluded booth at the back of the diner. She gave them menus and then walked away to go back in the kitchen.

Nick sat across from Grissom. "So, when's this guy supposed to be here? It's five 'til three," he said, looking at his watch.

Grissom opened up his menu. "I know, and he won't be here until exactly a minute before three. I he's anything, he's punctual. Annoyingly so."

Nick raised an eyebrow at that. He picked up his own menu and scanned it. He quickly found what he was looking for. He always ordered the same thing whenever he ate out at diners; bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast with a glass of oj. It was served everywhere, in some form or another. It was something Nick could depend on always being the same.

A few more minutes passed before the door swung open. Nick looked up, and he was floored, to say the least.

Greg got out of his car and looked at his watch. He smiled. He had exactly two minutes to make it into the diner. He was glad that people usually thought that his 'punctuality' wasn't just finely timed procrastination, which it was.

He'd just come from the club The Deep End. He was still dressed in the outfit that he'd put together to go to the club. Getting information out of a patron there that also happened to be an exclusive member of Club Void took a little longer than he thought it would. Greg dance a little, did his thing with another guy to get Mr. Roe interested. A little bump and grind on the dance floor, a little groping, and Roe was salivating over him. He didn't even have to break a sweat.

Roe was a big man, 6'6", and nearly all muscle. One would never think that he was the spoiled hotel heir of a billionaire. He looked more like he would fit right in at a pro-football game than anything else, but Greg knew better. After Roe had dragged Greg to a VIP room so that they could be alone, he bent over the couch, begging Greg to fuck him.

Any other time, Greg would gladly oblige the man, but he was there for a reason. He had managed to get everything he wanted from the man by giving him a hand job, but the man was still disappointed at not being fucked. He groaned and whimpered from the aftershocks of his orgasm and told Greg everything he wanted to know.

Greg walked up to the diner and shook his hand, trying to get the kink out of it. The man had taken a long time to come, longer than most of Greg's partners. Roe was most likely on steroids, Greg figured. Less work, maximum results. A thing that a spoiled, beefed up heir who looked like a football player was likely to be a result of. He hadn't even had time to shower. He only managed to wash his hands and freshen up in the car.

Greg threw open the door and sauntered into the diner. He took a quick survey of his surroundings. The place was fairly empty except for a man who was sitting by a window near the door, that was currently looking at Greg like he had a big neon sign over his head that said 'Fuck Me!' Greg smirked, and continued to look around until he spotted Grissom and a man he didn't know sitting at a booth near the back. The man was staring at him, but it wasn't a look that he could place.

Emmie came over to him from out of the kitchen and she threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek. "Hey, babe. How're you doin'?" She wasn't even fazed by his attire.

Greg smiled and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Same ol', same ol'. My arthritis is acting up, and I forgot to take my fiber today."

"That's nasty, man. I don't wanna hear about that!" She scrunched up her nose, playfully. She smacked his arm.

"Yeah, yeah. How about you? How's Jose been treating you?" Greg asked. He frowned when Emmie's face clouded over.

"He hasn't been treating me like anything, lately. We broke up," she said.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Greg looked apologetic.

"Don't be. The son of a bitched pushed me, and I'm not talking about a playful love-tap, here."

"I'll kill him," Greg growled.

Emmie sighed. "Don't. My older sister already took care of it. I don't think that he'll be able to use his arm for a couple weeks, at least."

Greg's eyes widened. "Tracy? Shit, I almost feel sorry for the guy, now. Almost." He added when she glared at him. Emmie's sister, Tracy, didn't look intimidating in the least on the outside. She was only 5' 5", a little overweight, and very quiet around people she didn't know. Once you messed with her family, though, another side came over the twenty-six year old. She could really mess a guy up. Greg had seen it first-hand.

Emmie let go of Greg, and her smile returned. "I shouldn't hold you up. Grissom's here and he's got someone with him. He's a cutie."

Greg glanced at the other man, who quickly looked away. "I know." Greg smiled.

"Well, don't just stand there! Go and sit down. I'll get you the usual." Emmie pushed him in Grissom's direction. "Oh, and by the way, Tracy wants you over for pasta on Wednesday." She went back into the kitchen, not waiting for a response. She hadn't really requested anything. She just said what was going to happen, and Greg was going to do it.

Greg walked over to Grissom's booth and sat down next to Nick, who blushed and tried to give Greg some room, but Greg just slyly took up the space that was offered and sat as close to Nick as he could without sitting in his lap.

Grissom didn't look up from the menu. "So?"

"We're in," Greg said. He fiddled with the frayed edges of Nick's menu. "Me and him, that is." He jerked a finger in Nick's direction.

Grissom finally looked up from his menu. "What?" He didn't look pleased.

"Club Void knows who you are. They have staff that were trained to recognize people like you on sight. This one, here, is new blood. They haven't gotten any traces on him, yet."

"Fix it."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I can't 'fix it.' The only opening that I have cleared for me is tomorrow night, and if you think you can make all traces of Gil Grissom disappear by that time, then, by all means, do so." He leaned back in his seat and put his arm around Nick on the back of the seat.

Nick tried to look anywhere but at the man next to him. Did he have to ooze sex, and splay himself across the booth like that?

Sighing, Grissom sat back and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Well, at least I won't have to….You'll just have to show him how everything works," he said.

Greg looked over at Nick, and smiled.

That smiled made Nick nervous.

"My pleasure."