Scary

Part 4

Finally, a little romance…

Note: Thomas Harris wrote the Hannibal Lecter novels.

"I'm afraid to answer that question," Greg said wearily.

"Go ahead," Grissom said good-naturedly. "I can take the criticism."

Greg looked back at the lap top screen and reread a few paragraphs in silence. He was taking too long but Grissom didn't prompt him; instead, he went to the kitchen and got busy, unwrapping the platters of deli food he'd brought earlier that day.

"I was afraid that introducing cannibalism might be a mistake," he called out, "I mean, cannibalism still stirs up feelings of apprehension in all of us but, let's face it, it's also been trivialized by people like Thomas Harris -to a point where eating a human is now considered the act of a gourmand with finicky tastes, instead of the ritualized act of soul-snatching it really is."

He came back to the table and presented Greg with a plate piled high with sandwiches cut in tiny triangles.

"Here," he smiled, "Shrimp salad. Your favorite."

Greg looked at the plate but didn't reach for the food.

Gil wasn't discouraged by Greg's marked lack of enthusiasm; on the contrary, he was amused by it.

"Do you want me to try one first?" he asked with gentle irony. He picked a sandwich and finished it off in two bites. "See?" he said mischievously.

Greg looked expressionlessly at him, then he slowly rose from his seat. Once he was face to face with Gil, he finally spoke.

"Do you think that's funny?" he hissed.

Grissom froze.

It wasn't the words but the tone that took Gil aback. There seemed to be a lot of repressed anger behind Greg's question, and for a moment, Gil didn't know how to react to it.

Greg took a menacing step closer.

"Do you think murder is funny, Grissom?"

Gil shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"No."

"Well, it doesn't seem that way," Greg said, cocking his head in the lap top's direction.

Gil looked at the lap top, and then he looked back at Greg.

"I don't think murder is funny," he said calmly. "But that's a piece of fiction. And you should know the difference."

"What I know is that you see me as some sort of dupe," Greg retorted, "You killed me twice, for God's sake. Do you think that's funny?" He stared at Gil, waiting for an answer. He got none. He shook his head. "You went too far, Grissom," he said, his words filled with disappointment. "I… I feel like I don't know you."

He paused for a moment, then he took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can get past this."

"Greg, it was only a story -"

"Maybe we should stop seeing each other for a while."

Color drained from Grissom's face. His lips parted but no word came. He was looking at Greg in disbelief; disbelief and hurt.

Greg kept a straight face for as long as he could -which was about five seconds. He suddenly leant and planted a kiss on Gil's lips.

"Gotcha!"

Grissom didn't move, not even after Greg burst out laughing and pulled him into his arms for a tight hug. The young man was enjoying his little joke so much he didn't immediately notice that Gil wasn't laughing along with him.

Gil stood frozen in place, his arms hanging limply by his sides. It wasn't until Greg began kissing him that Gil finally exhaled the air he'd been holding.

"Jesus Greg," he said breathlessly. He pulled away from Greg to look into his face, "What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack, or something?"

Greg chuckled.

"Hey, I'm not the only one with a sick sense of humor," he said pointedly. "All those jabs at poor Teri Miller -" he trailed off when he noticed the look of panic still lingering on Gil's face. Greg's smile faded a little. "You didn't think I was serious, did you?"

Gil shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"I don't take you for granted."

"Oh, shit," Greg muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, then." He rubbed Gil's jaw with a thumb. "So, you really believed me when I said we should stop seeing each other?"

Gil nodded wearily.

"Yeah. That was scary."

THE END