Title: Tainted Love (10/12)
Author: Emono
Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas
Rating: NC-16
Pairing: Warrick/Greg (Grerrick), Grissom/Archie
Summary: Greg's a man, and someone's moving in on Grissom and Warrick's turf.
Beta: gil_follower
Warnings: All around slash, relapse, hero-Hodges
Disclaimer: CSI is guarded by the Card Soldiers from Alice in Wonderland, even if they ARE easy to beat in Kingdom Hearts J Klesla is yet another hockey player from my favorite team, and I love him 3
Word Count: 1980
AN: I wanted a ficlet where someone moves in on Greg, and this seemed the perfect place to put it.
*Now I'm going to pack my things and go
Tainted love, tainted love
Tainted love, tainted love*
~One Year Later~
Warrick came into the apartment, a large bag of Chinese take out in his hand. He bumped the door shut with his hip, jacket, keys, and shoes discarded at the door. He padded into the kitchen, throwing the containers on the table before shuffling back into the living room. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it.
Pucca, a cartoon ninja TV show, was playing lowly on the TV set. Greg was stretched languidly out on the couch, eyes closed in sleep. One hand was curled behind his head, the other rested on his stomach. He was barefoot, the only articles of clothing on him were a mangled pair of jeans and a 'Bullet for My Valentine' t-shirt with a faded design.
This was the old Greg he knew, the one that had captured his heart with a head bang and an air guitar. That spark -that fire- was now only glimpsed at time like this, at home and off-duty. Greg was officially a Level One CSI now, and he had a certain demeanor to uphold now. His personality wasn't dead, but he had calmed down for the sake of his job.
Those bright, loud shirts were still in their closet, but they now hung next to solid colored shirts and suit jackets. Jeans with gaping holes hung next to dress pants and dark blue Levi's.
But it wasn't uncommon to see him jamming out while making dinner or conducting a weird experiment in a spare lab…or writing to that novel of his…
His young Greg was now a man, no longer could he call him his 'boy.'
The best change, in Warrick's opinion, was the hair. No more dye, the smell drove him nuts. Greg's hair was now a soft chestnut with mild blonde highlights, and it was long. Those lovely curls brushed his ears and cheeks, laying gracefully across his forehead. It was just the perfect length, it softened his features and gave him an innocent air. Warrick loved nothing more tan to fist his hand in it, those curs clinging to and kissing his fingers.
So much better than spikes.
"You're staring" Greg purred, stretching a little before sitting up. He rubbed at his eyes, then blinked up at his lover and smiled. "I'm not complaining, but is something wrong?"
"Nah" Warrick leant against the doorframe "I'm just so damn lucky…and you're too cute."
"Oh, I know" Greg got up, sauntering over and bussing a kiss to his cheek "So are you, 'Rick."
Warrick watched intently as Greg rifled through the Chinese take-out, not for the first time worrying how Nick could have had the opportunity to love this man and threw it away. That incident seemed like a far off nightmare, too much time had passed. Neither secretly worried Nick would come back, not anymore. His heart swelled and love for this man, and a wave of possessiveness hit him.
God help the man who tried to take his Greg away from him.
"Hey, G, leave me some!"
»*»
Speedle had left he lab long ago, and was doing wonderfully in Miami again. Sometimes he and Greg would call, keeping tabs, exchanging favors and e-mails and funny videos. But where he left, the swing shift was left short staffed again. Thankfully, Commodore had been transferred, but that still left them a man down. Two months ago, Gil had fought Ecklie tooth and nail, but eventually someone was hired. Grissom was discontent, he didn't like the man, but he couldn't overpower Ecklie and a personal decision of his.
Junior staff had been put on rotation until a fit was found, and the new man was put as Bobby's assistant.
Rusty Klesla. A six-foot, dark haired, pretty boy with hockey-player muscles. He was a rather okay assistant, but Grissom knew in his gut he'd be trouble. The an wasn't openly offensive or horribly evil, but he had a dark intent about him. Bobby, still harboring that secret guilt that he let Nick get away, didn't attempt to control the man at all. It wasn't uncommon to see the man hanging around the layout rooms, and even worse…the A/V lab.
Archie didn't much care for the man either.
One day he went too far.
»*»
Greg had just come in from the field, he was laying out his evidence on the bottom-lit layout table. He slipped off his CSI jacket for an informal lab coat, and it filled him with bittersweet memories. Idly scratching at his scarred shoulder, he began to work. One of the pieces of evidence was a shell, so he paged the Ballistics lab.
An hour later, he had the charred rope assembled near the corner of the bath and a row of swabs next to a sticky pair of leather gloves. He 'har-umphed' when he checked the clock, he supposed he would have to deliver the evidence himself. Whatever, the lab techs were busy, he got that. He took a moment to lean against the wall, briefly savoring his triumph over the rope that he thought be would impossible to reconstruct after so much arson-damage.
Greg grinned to himself dopily, "I'm good."
"Yes, you are."
The voice was low, riddled with hidden intentions. He opened his eyes curiously, finding Klesla standing there. He tensed all over, he had never liked the man. When Griss didn't trust them, Greg didn't trust them. The man's smirk was predatory, his dark eyes bottomless pits. Another time, with a better personality, Greg would have considered this man attractive. Maybe even flirted with him, just to have some fun.
Not now.
"I paged you an hour ago" Greg had no real conviction in his voice, he gestured to the bagged bullet on the table "Have Bobby run it through the system, maybe I'll get a bite."
"Maybe" Klesla made a move toward the evidence, just to him "So are the rumors true?"
Greg's eyes narrowed, "What rumors?"
Klesla's eyes lit up, "When you were a lab tech, you fucked on of the CSI's…then got moved up."
Greg flushed in righteous fury, he didn't give a damn if the tech was talking about Warrick or Nick, he still had no right!
"It is true" Klesla got right in his personal space, a hand brushing his hip "Wanna try the reverse?"
Greg scowled, "If you don't-"
Rough lips descended on his, and for a horrid moment he had a relapse. Memories of Nick came pounding back, duller after so much time but no less real. For a helpless moment he was a DNA lab rat again, frozen against the wall and unable to protect himself. He had the ungodly urge to seek his meds again…
//No! No! Not again! I can't do it again!//
Before the strength could return to his limbs, a solid hand on Klesla's shoulders and pulled him away. The Ballistics tech was knocked flat on his ass, a solid figure blocking his way between himself and Sanders. Greg's savior glared heatedly at the man on the ground, arms crossed and baring his teeth. Klesla wilted under the look from that man, then managed to stand on shaky legs. Greg was God-smacked, mouth open and tears in his eyes as he stared at the back of his knight in shining armor.
"I think you should leave, Rusty" Hodges spat the name like a venom "And if you can't find something to do, I'm sure Henry has toxic waste to be disposed of."
Klesla made a face, then scurried off.
"Hodges?" Greg nearly whimpered, the man turned and raised a brow at him "You just…you didn't have to…I can't believe you…"
"Tell Grissom."
Greg blinked away his tears, "What?"
David sighed, then replied patiently, "Wash out your mouth, puke if you have to, then Go. Tell. Grissom."
Greg shook his head weakly, "I can't, he'll-"
"Shut up, Sanders" David snapped, something soft flashing in his steely eyes "If it means something, I just saw you relapse. I haven't seen you so vulnerable since you were a lab rat, and I don't want to see it again. Understand me?"
Greg nodded, "…what would I say?"
"The truth" Hodges sighed exasperatedly, then gave him a small smile "He'll understand, trust me."
Greg got over his initial surprise and hugged the man, shocking them both.
"Sanders?"
"Yeah?"
"….you're touching me…"
"Sorry, man."
»*»
~Next Night~
Greg had to spend a day in Warrick's arms to gather up enough courage to tell Grissom. It was a guilty secret, and he waited until the lunch break to comfort him. It was slowly eating him away from the inside out, he was practically vibrating on his way to the man's office. He ran the last ten steps, burst in, then shut and locked the door.
"Don't say a word, Griss, just listen" Greg turned, rubbing a hand through his long-ish hair (why did he suddenly have the urge to cut it?) "If you interrupt, I don't think I'll be able to finish."
Gil cast a glance at the couch behind the man, but nodded silently.
"Klesla, that creepy ballistics guy, pretty much jumped me in the layout room" Greg began, his mouth moving fast "It wasn't really a 'jump', he just pinned me to the wall and kissed me. B-But I freaked, Gil. I had some weird/temporary relapse, my mind was flooded with nothing but…nothing but Nick a-and…if it wasn't for Hodges, I don't know…"
"Babe, are you ok?"
Greg jumped three feet in the air at that voice, he whipped around to see Warrick standing from the couch. Warrick enveloped his lover into his arms, kissing his hair and temple in the sweet way he knew the brunette loved. Greg sighed happily, pressing into the touch, then he sought the man's eyes.
"I'm sorry" Greg attempted to smile "I feel bad for not telling you, but I was pretty scared."
"I understand, don't worry about it" Warrick pulled the man close to him, but his eyes were locked with Grissom's "I want him gone, Gil."
Grissom couldn't help himself, he full-out grinned as he pulled a criminal record out of the desk drawer.
"This is enough to get him out of here, I've been collecting for awhile" Gil brandished it "Let's deliver this to Conrad personally, shall we?"
The other two nodded, pulling away. After a moment to gather their composers, the three left the room to go out along the hallway. They were halfway to Ecklie's office when Grissom froze, stopping dead in his tracks. The older man was growling, eyes ablaze. They followed his glare to the A/V lab window-wall, and inside it was the reason for his anger.
Klesla had obviously moved onto another target, if the hand gripping Archie's arm was any indication. From the look on Archie's face, he had more than a few choice words for the man. But Klesla wasn't taking 'no' for an answer, and he even leaned in for a kiss. Archie reeled back and punched him square in the jaw, darting out of the lab…he looked scared out of his mind…
"That's it!" Grissom snarled "The bastard's gone…damn Ecklie, Klesla's fired!"
TBC