DECISIONS

Thank you for your kind reviews.

I tried to find out how long it took to fly from Chicago to Las Vegas but didn't get any information; I hope my time line isn't too far from reality.

Spoiler: Viva Las Vegas (the part about 'beer goggles)

Note: I did a little rewriting on this and the next chapter, on June 2 and 3.

"Thank you."

Greg shook his head. He couldn't get over the fact that Grissom had said those words. It wasn't the words themselves, actually, but the way he uttered them -as if he really meant what he said. It was the first time that anybody thanked him like this.

Greg leant back on his seat. Sex with Grissom was turning to be more complicated than he had anticipated. Not in a negative way, of course. It's just that all of a sudden, Greg was making a big deal -he even wanted to talk about it, for God's sake!

Greg glanced at his boss. Grissom definitely did not want to talk about it; he probably wanted to put the whole convention behind him, and the sooner the better. It was understandable. Grissom was a very private person; surely he didn't relish having his life revealed like that.

Greg shook his head. So many things had happened in only four days… Now that he wasn't frantically trying to talk to every CSI on sight, or running from one conference to the next, he found himself going over every moment he'd shared with Grissom these past four days -from the time they arrived at the hotel, to their first fight, and from the first misunderstanding to their first kiss-

Greg smiled a little. After that kiss, Greg had fought the urge to speak –fortunately, because he'd been so nervous, he would have said something like, 'thank God! I was afraid you'd taste of moth balls! He'd restrained the words, but not his body. Greg couldn't get over the fact that he'd touched Grissom, a man who routinely behaved as if he had an invisible shield around him. There had been no shields last night, especially after that kiss. As soon as Greg pulled Grissom back into bed, he had reached down to cup the older man's genitals, trying to coax a response. Greg was gratified when he felt Grissom shivering under his touch.

"You want this," Greg whispered into his ear, but Grissom shook his head regretfully.

"It's too soon."

"Come on" Greg insisted, "Come on-"

But Grissom shook his head again, and gently took Greg's hand away from his body. Then it was the older man who coaxed him to move, until Greg found himself lying flat on his back, pinned under Grissom's body. What followed was what Greg would have called a 'kissing fest'.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd kiss someone just for the hell of it. His sex encounters were mostly about getting quick satisfaction, something to fit in between other activities: Sex before work, sex before a movie, or sex before going home. Impersonal sex, even when he was with friends. Sex with guys like Tim meant bending over for them and vice versa. Not that he had any complaints about it; the sex was good, after all. It helped him relax, and sometimes it helped him face the long nights at the lab, and the dead bodies at the morgue.

As for sex with the man sitting next to him… Greg smiled. After the kissing, they had made love again, and yeah, Greg had taught new things to the old man, but he had learned things from Grissom too.

Greg looked out his window as he thought of this.

Last night Greg had learned to take the time to appreciate the person in his arms. Instead of looking for a quick satisfaction, he had spent a long time discovering things about Grissom, as they lay in bed, entangled in slippery sheets. He had been aware of textures and scents - Grissom's coarse pubic hair, his soft beard, and Grissom's scent –literally Grissom's, not something out of a bottle.

Greg was glad that he'd known instinctively what not to do at certain moments. For instance, he had refrained from uttering the stock phrases that he and his friends used: 'Give it to me, big boy, Oh, yeah, just like that! Harder, oh, yeah, oh, it's so good- Greg almost laughed out loud now, thinking of what the old man's reaction would have been if he had heard that.

The smile on his lips turned a bit smug. Last night he had felt powerful. He'd done things to Grissom and made him melt. No more frozen Grissom, oh, no. Now he knew about a spot on Grissom's neck that made him lose control. Last night, after just a few kisses and a few little bites, Grissom moaned and came, hard, more from those caresses than by Greg's expert manipulation of his body.

Greg closed his eyes as he remembered …their bodies, slick with sweat, each one trying to dominate the other, but happily giving up control at the same time. And when Greg took over and found that spot on Grissom's neck… Greg took a deep breath as he remembered Grissom's immediate reaction. A soft 'oh' that turned into a growl… a growl that suddenly exploded into a series of nonsensical moans and ended with a throaty mmmmmh that had sent shivers down his spine then, and now. Greg sighed again. God, he wished he could hear that moan again-

Greg abruptly opened his eyes and looked down at his lap in astonishment. He had a hard-on, for God sake.

He couldn't believe it; this was definitely the worst time for this! He carefully shifted in his seat, looking sideways at Grissom, fervently hoping he wouldn't notice.

But of course he did.

"You have to 'go' again?" Grissom asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Are you ok?"

'No' Greg thought, 'I'm not ok, I think I've got a thing for you.'

"Do you want me to call the attendant?" Grissom offered. "She can get you something."

"I'm not sick, Grissom." He said evasively, rising from his seat. "I just drank too much water."

Greg's breathing was returning to normal. He looked at himself in the little mirror. He was flushed, but otherwise his face hadn't changed a lot. And yet, it was as like looking into a stranger's face.

"Congratulations," he muttered bitterly, "You've just become a member of the 'Mile High Club for One'."

He leant his forehead on the cool glass for a moment. The good news was that from now on, he would not need to look at a magazine or use a toy to get a little relief. The bad news was that all he had to do was fantasize about his boss…

Greg carefully cleaned up after himself. The last thing he needed was Grissom smelling it on him –and he could imagine the old man's reaction if he did: he would stare at him and lift an eyebrow. He wouldn't say anything, but he'd know that Greg had just gone to the bathroom to masturbate.

It was bad enough that Grissom thought he had a weak bladder. Or a sudden case of diarrhea.

Morosely, Greg vowed to be as inconspicuous as he could until they got to Las Vegas.

When Greg returned, Grissom noticed the look of defiance in his colleague's face, and refrained from making any comment. He simply rose and let him take his seat.

That was wise of him; Greg just wasn't in the mood to answer any inquiries about his health. Hell, he didn't even want to talk. He would sleep for the rest of the flight.

Greg's determination lasted until lunch time. Fortunately, airline food was a safe topic to talk about, and after that they found other safe topics too: The convention, Grissom's friends, and the fishing trip they were going to take together.

"Have you decided where you're going?"

"Not yet. Just getting everybody together for two weeks will take months of planning," Grissom explained, "But I asked Janice to come to Las Vegas next year."

"That's great! I like her."

Grissom looked up. Did that mean Greg was not leaving Las Vegas? He wanted to ask, but before he dared to, the attendant picked up their trays and handed them little plates with dessert.

"I feel like I'm back in kindergarten." Greg muttered when he saw the little squares of jello.

Grissom carefully opened his yogurt container.

"So… Did you get any job offers?" he asked casually, barely glancing at him.

Greg was surprised by the question.

"I got several."

Grissom nodded.

"Good for you." he said quietly.

"But I'm not leaving." Greg said.

Grissom looked at him. His heart was pounding fast and in his mind he was practically doing cartwheels, but outwardly he didn't show any strong emotion.

"What, you don't want to go to Miami?" he asked instead.

"Nah." Greg smiled, "Janice would never forgive me."

"What about the guy from LA?"

Greg shook his head.

"I'm staying in Las Vegas." He said firmly.

"Good," Grissom said simply, before turning his attention back to his yogurt. He was relieved. Hell, he was happy -happier than anyone could imagine just by looking at him. Suddenly, he didn't mind that the flight attendant kept poking at him every time she walked by, or that his yogurt tasted of vanilla pudding from a box. He found it hard not to smile.

Yet, after the initial elation, he had a couple of sobering thoughts: In order to have a good working relationship with Greg, he would have to make some major changes. He could not keep avoiding him at the lab, for instance; and to do this, he'd have to set aside his personal feelings. He would learn to work with Greg without thinking of sex.

That wasn't so hard; but trusting Greg to keep mum about his secrets seemed much more difficult. Nobody had ever known this much about him; some people had known little bits of his past, and some others had known his body, but Greg now knew both. It felt like his life was in Greg's hands now and Grissom didn't relish the feeling. But the alternative…

He took a deep breath. He made his decision then. He would trust Greg. He didn't want to lose his friend and colleague.

After making this silent pledge Grissom opened his book ostensibly to read, but his mind wandered almost immediately. The words on the page just couldn't compete with the vivid images in his mind. Images and sounds. And smells, too. Grissom was thinking of last night again. He didn't feel guilty about it; they were still in the plane, after all. Once they got to Las Vegas, everything that happened between them would have to be filed away… but not yet.

Not yet-

"You're smiling again."

He blinked when he heard Greg speak. For a moment he had forgotten where he was.

"What?" he asked.

"You're smiling," Greg said, "You're reading a book on serial killers, yet you're smiling. Why?"

Grissom hesitated before answering.

"I was remembering."

"Remembering what?"

Grissom shrugged slightly.

"That I fell off the bed last night." He said.

And all of a sudden, Greg realized that Grissom had not put it all behind him yet.

Grissom held his gaze for a moment and then looked at his book again.

Greg cleared his throat.

"I'm glad, Grissom." Greg said slowly, and waited until Grissom looked up, "I'm glad that we- you know-"

"Thanks, Greg." Grissom said kindly. "I'm glad, too."

"It'll be weird, right?" Greg said after a moment. "At the lab?"

"No." Grissom said quickly, "Nothing has to change, Greg. Ok?" Grissom waited until the young man nodded. It was a reassurance that they both needed.

Grissom kept his gaze on Greg, briefly remembering how that same face had looked like last night -contorted by pleasure one minute, softened by tenderness the next. Grissom wanted to keep that image of Greg in the back of his mind –a guilty memory to conjure up whenever loneliness got to him. Whenever a ride in the roller coaster wasn't enough.

Reluctantly, he looked back at his book.

But Greg didn't want the conversation to be over yet.

"Grissom," he said solemnly. Grissom didn't turn, but he lifted his gaze from his book, "I just want you to know that... " he paused, and lowered his voice, "You can start over." He said, "I know that he meant a lot to you, but… life goes on, you know? There's no reason why you couldn't be with someone else. I mean, it's only sex, and you wouldn't be betraying his memory. You're a nice-looking guy, and you could have a good time- hell, you could give someone a good time. You should stop being so selfish, man," he said, smiling a little. Greg paused for a moment, but Grissom didn't say anything –he simply kept his gaze on the seat in front of him.

Maybe that was for the best. Not having Grissom's eyes on him made it easier for Greg to add, "I mean, I have to admit that if you weren't my boss, I'd be interested-" and he let his voice trail off.

This was where Grissom was supposed to take the hint and say something in case he was interested…

But he did not say anything.

He couldn't. Greg had stated the problem perfectly; they were coworkers, in unequal positions. It was unethical.

"I hope you open up a little," Greg said after a moment of silence. "Find someone-"

"Thank you, Greg." Grissom said quietly. "I appreciate the advice."

He opened his book and stared at the pages again.

Greg took a deep breath and looked out. The clouds were lightly tinted with orange and pink –the colors of sunset. The day was ending. Soon they would be back in Las Vegas and once they got there, they'd simply go back to their roles as colleagues. They'd never have another chance to be together and do all the things they hadn't had time to do last night.

Greg felt regret as he thought of the things he still didn't know about Grissom: Did he sleep on his side? Were there other sensitive spots on his body that made him lose control?

'I never had a chance to suck you.' Greg thought, and for a moment he had the urge to say those words aloud.

Fortunately, he didn't. He looked outside instead, angry at himself for thinking like this. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to get real.

No.

What he needed was to get Grissom out of his system.

They remained in silence until they were about to land. By then Grissom was frantically trying to restore some sort of communication. He didn't want this trip to end in silence. He had been raking his brains for something safe to say, something to lighten up the mood. Suddenly, he smiled.

"By the way," he said slowly, "You never told me how high I rated."

Greg hadn't expected this. He looked questioningly at Grissom and smiled when he noticed Grissom's grin.

"Well…" he paused, acting as if he were really thinking it over, "I was going to give you a six and a half," he said, "But I felt you deserved some extra points." he added magnanimously, "After all, you didn't need extra stimulation to get into it."

Grissom frowned.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what 'extra stimulation' means."

"Well, you didn't ask me to pour hot wax all over you, for instance."

"That ought to be painful." Grissom frowned.

"That's the whole point," Greg retorted with a smirk, "Anyway, you didn't ask for it, and you didn't ask me to cover you with liquid latex either-"

"All right, I get it-" Grissom interrupted, but Greg was warming up to the subject.

"You didn't ask me to wear a dog collar-" He added, chuckling as Grissom's expression told him what he thought of that, "And you didn't need to wear the collar or leather underwear-"

"That's more information that I needed," Grissom snorted and Greg chuckled.

The light mood lasted only until they left the plane. By the time they picked up their luggage, they were barely talking.

"Let me help you with that." Grissom said, taking the award from Greg's hands. It was only fair, since Greg had offered to carry the photo albums for him.

They walked side by side towards the exit; slowly, as if they were trying to delay their going back to the real world. Too soon they found themselves on the sidewalk, waiting in line for a taxi.

Grissom glanced at Greg, silently wishing the young man would come up with some idea, some excuse to keep real life from intruding so soon. Greg looked at him expectantly, as if he were wishing the same.

"Do you have to go to work tonight?" Greg asked.

"No," he said, "I don't think so."

He did not want to go to the lab and resume his role as CSI Gil Grissom. All he wanted was to hang on to his role as Greg's friend for a little longer, but he didn't know how to accomplish this.

"Do you want to split a cab?" he asked impulsively. He winced as soon as the words escaped his mouth. Sharing a cab was an incredibly stupid suggestion since they both lived on opposite sides of the city.

Greg didn't point this out.

"Sure." he said. He was actually relieved that Grissom had found a way to keep them together for a while.

They didn't want to part, but neither would say it out loud.

The worst part was that the rest of the world seemed to be conspiring against them. The flight had arrived on time, they had picked up their luggage without any trouble, and they quickly got a cab.

And traffic was so light, they were soon mere blocks from Greg's building.

They were staring ahead.

"Are you hungry, Grissom?" Greg asked suddenly. He didn't wait for an answer, "Because if you are…" he added quickly, "there's a great Italian restaurant close to my place. We could eat-"

They looked at each other in the eye and suddenly, Grissom knew that food was only one of the things he was being offered. And he knew that Greg knew that he knew.

Grissom's heart beat faster.

He knows that I know-

He told himself to stop thinking.

"Sounds good." He said.

They got off the cab in front of Greg's building.

"So," Greg said as soon as the cab left, "Are you in the mood for pasta? The restaurant is just around the corner." he glanced at Grissom and almost laughed out loud when he saw his boss's expression of disappointment. He smiled. "Or…" he paused, "We can go to my apartment and order from there."

Grissom kept his strong emotions under control; he only nodded.

"That sounds better." he said.

TBC