Gil / Greg
Yeah, Grissom's too old for Greg, but I've always thought that Greg has a crush on him.
Spoilers: Episode: Last Laugh.
Greg discovers that Grissom's losing his hearing and tries to comfort him, ("My grandfather is deaf too!") and fails; then Grissom assumes and makes a mistake..
This story is told from Grissom's POV
What a day.
I would have laughed if anyone had told me what I was going to do in the next twenty four hours.
Maybe I should have said 'what a year'. Ever since I was diagnosed with Ottosclerosis, my life has turned upside down. Now I have to deal with the fact that I'm losing my hearing and I have to keep it a secret from my coworkers, the lawyers, the Sheriff if I want to keep my job as Supervisor. The DA wouldn't accept any case of mine if he knew I'm ailing.
Soon I'll have to decide whether to have an operation and risk losing the little hearing I still have, or wait until I simply lose it completely. I don't have much to choose from.
So far I've been successful in hiding my condition to my coworkers…
Actually no, I haven't been entirely successful…
Twenty four hours ago I was investigating a mass poisoning case. Two people had died after drinking Inoko Water, and although at first the evidence pointed to random tampering, in the end we realized that the first dead person had been the principal target.
Our latest theory was that whoever had grinded the migraine pills that were used to poison the water, had done it in a coffee grinder; if Greg identified the coffee residue in the water we might identify the coffee drinker… and the murderer.
Greg entered my office, sat on my desk, and said, "You know what I have that you want in the morning- apart from my devilish good looks of course-?"
"I like your coffee," I'd answered, poker face in place. I'd ignored the introductory speech and didn't ask him to get to the point. I've come to understand that Greg needs to talk more than he has to, either because he's still nervous around me, or because he needs to show off his vast knowledge. I'll take it as long as he brings results, which he did in this case: He launched into a mini lecture about coffee, which in turn steered me towards the solution of the case. I smiled my thanks to Greg, phoned Brass, and asked him to get a warrant. When I hung up I realized that Greg was still sitting on my desk.
"Anything else, Greg?"
"Hum… yes." He admitted and leant back, expecting some long speech about the case. To my surprise, he simply dropped a bomb on me:
"Grissom… are you losing your hearing?"
I immediately looked outside, worried that anyone passing by my open door might hear him. Nobody had, but I still had to deal with Greg. He hurried to reassure me.
"Hey, it's ok." He said gently, "No one else knows. I myself wasn't sure until now." I didn't say anything and he hastened to add, "I won't tell, Grissom."
"You have nothing to tell." I replied evasively, and got up to leave, "I've got to go now, so-"
"Wait. Wait, please." He said, blocking the door from me "Look. I know you don't like to talk about personal stuff, but… If you're worried about deafness, you shouldn't be. I've done some research and I've found out that it's more common than one thinks. My grandfather is losing his hearing too, and he does all right! The good news is there are all kinds of aids that can help. You should try the kind my grandfather wears-" I visibly flinched at being compared to an old man, and he hurried to make amends.
"Hey, not that you're as old as my grandfather-"
"Greg?" I interrupted, my patience running thin, "I've got to go."
I walked around him and left my office.
Later that night, Jim and I went to the comedy club and arrested the unfunny man who had killed another unfunny man and an innocent kid. There were gasps of surprise from the public, but by the time we left, someone was already telling a joke about it.
We filled all preliminary paperwork and by eight in the morning I was free to go home. Once there, I'd have a hot shower, read a book, feed my pets, and sleep. By the time I woke up in the evening, I'd be rested and feeling like a new man.
Or as new as an old man can feel...
As new as a man with grandfather health problems can get...
I told myself to shut up.
I did try to sleep but every damn noise on the street kept waking me up. I tried every relaxing technique I knew but nothing worked and by noon I had given up. I was drinking some tea and reading the paper when someone knocked. I stumbled to the door and looked through the peep hole… and closed my eyes impatiently. I briefly debated whether to open the door or not, but in the end I did.
"What can I do for you, Greg?" I said, sarcastically polite.
The kid smiled
"Morning, boss. I… hum… can I talk to you?"
"It's day time, Greg," I said patronizingly. "Wait until the night shift starts, all right?"
"I have something for you," he said, eagerly lifting a package. "Just give me a minute. Please."
I reluctantly let him in and led him to the living room, expecting him to say something about my Spartan furniture. To his credit, he didn't. He simply sat and tried to find a comfortable spot in the couch.
He was too nervous to sit for long, though; he got up and glanced at the books on the nearest bookshelf.
He cleared his throat.
"Hum, Grissom, about today…"
"Greg, I won't talk about it." I warned him, but he ignored me.
"… I was thinking that if you're going deaf, you'll soon have to deal with some problems. Not just at the lab, but here at home, you know. Like when you want to listen to some music. I mean, I don't now if you're going to wear an aid, but if you're not, you'll have to turn up the volume and you know how neighbors are. I mean, mine resent me all the time. I know you resent my music too, although you haven't said anything lately." He looked up, "Now I know WHY you hadn't said much about it-"
"Greg," I interrupted, "What's your point?"
"Oh… I got you this," he said quickly, taking something out of a paper bag, "It's a CD player." He explained, "I've used it for some time now, but it still has some years left" he paused, as if he wasn't sure of what to add. He handed me his gift and I stared at it as if it were some alien artifact I had never seen before.
"Your grandpa wears one of these?" I asked.
"No, he doesn't care much for music." He said dismissively, "But you'll love this, Grissom. I got you a CD too-" He took a disc out of a box, while chattering away, "You know, yesterday I was listening to some of my CDs and I suddenly asked myself what it would be like not to be able to listen to music anymore; can you imagine that?" he was busily putting the disc inside the player; "But hey, we have all this technology to help us solve our little problems-"
I realized that Greg didn't know that I was more screwed up than his grandfather, who only needed an aid to solve his problem.
"Put on the headphones!" He said enthusiastically, "Listen to this; I'm sure that's one of your favorites." he pushed 'play' and I immediately recognized the piece. I smiled a little; this concert by Grieg was indeed one of my favorites.
Greg smiled back and continued talking, so I had to read his lips,
"It's great, isn't it? Can you imagine not being able to listen to something like this anymore?"
Shit.
Since the Ottosclerosis had been diagnosed, I'd made some half-hearted attempts to plan for the future, but frankly, I still didn't know what to do. I was terrified about losing my hearing because of my job, but Greg's words had made me realize there were losses I hadn't thought about... Music had always been a refuge for me and I just couldn't bear to lose it.
I gulped. I tried to say something but I couldn't and, to my surprise, my eyes filled with tears. Greg was immediately concerned. He put a hand on my shoulder and started saying something; I read his lips again.
"-sorry, I didn't want to make you sad-."
"It's ok." I muttered, "It's just..." I took off the headphones as if they had burned my ears.
Greg kept rubbing my shoulder, trying to comfort me.
"Hey, Grissom… is something the matter?" he asked. I tried to explain but couldn't, and he did what I least expected: He put his arms around me.
I froze. Nobody had done that in –how many years?- and I didn't know how to react. I mean, I didn't know whether to hold him too, or just point out to him how freaked out I was by all this-
"Is there anything else going on, Grissom?" asked Greg.
"Yeah." I admitted.
"We'll deal with it." He said, patting my back. It was a relief to have someone comforting me. I had always dealt with my problems on my own, and I was tired of it. I leant into his embrace. "That's it. You'll be ok…" he whispered reassuringly and his breath felt like a caress on my neck.
I felt… something. I instinctively drew my arms around him and suddenly we were so close together-
It felt good… Very good.
So damn good I was getting a hard on. He noticed and pulled away to look at me with widened eyes. I dropped my arms immediately.
"Sorry-" I mumbled.
"It's ok." He said quickly. I tried to back off but he refused to let go. "It's ok." He repeated, and there was a faint smile on his lips now. "Really, Grissom. Hey, it's basic biology, after all. And we're friends, right?"
I shrugged, glad that it was no big deal for him.
"I can help you if you want." He offered. "I'd like to"
Hell. His words were turning me on and he knew it. He smiled and lightly rubbed his body against me, letting me know that he was hard too. He chuckled when he saw me gaping.
"Surprised?" he said. He glanced down, "We should do something, Grissom; these won't last forever, you know" he said humorously.
He took my silence as consent. Smiling, friendly as always, even a little smug, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to the hallway, making some comment about each room he glanced into, and asking questions that I couldn't answer.
"Do you have any condoms around?"
"Well-"
"You don't, do you."
"Hum-"
"Your home's like a monastery, Grissom." He chuckled, and then he lowered his voice, "Or it was until now."
He took control of the situation. He silently helped me out of my clothes and made me lie down. His attitude was, 'just lie back and let me do everything' and I obeyed.
I looked at the ceiling and took mental notes of everything he was doing and everything I was feeling.
I felt alive.
Suddenly I didn't want it to be like that; I didn't want him to 'service' me, I needed to be a part of it. I sat up and grabbed him by the shoulders until he was in bed with me and tried to undress him. He was wearing something loud and complicated, and I fumbled with buttons and zippers under his gaze.
"So, Grissom; you want to give back"." He noticed, smiling, "Great. I'm all for that."
… I wrestled with someone who, being as strong as me, kept pushing me flat on my back until I surrendered… I cried out words that didn't make sense, I experienced what felt like a heart attack, and for a few minutes I was so out of breath that I thought I was going to die.
And all I could think of was… thank you, God.
I'd forgotten what it felt like to do this, to have an orgasm with someone beside me. My heart might be dried up, but my body wasn't. It had been too long since I'd touched someone, but judging by Greg's reaction, I thought I'd done well. I was ridiculously proud of myself. I'd been up to the challenge.
But now that my brain was once again assuming control, I tried to evaluate the consequences of my acts. Sleeping with a coworker was ethically wrong, and I was wondering if Greg was having second thoughts about this too.
I looked at him. His eyes were closed, and he was comfortably lying on his back, an arm casually folded under his pillow. He was utterly relaxed.
"Greg?" I called, but he didn't stir.
We napped for almost an hour, and when I looked at him again he was awake. He smiled, and stretched, lazily.
"Hey, Grissom." He greeted.
I opened my mouth once or twice, but it took me a while to find something to say.
"Are we gay, Greg?" I asked, trying to get some reaction out of him. He frowned for a moment.
"I'm opportunistic." He said finally. "Like you, I guess." I didn't understand, and he added, "I think you'd sleep with anyone who enters that wall that surrounds you." He said thoughtfully.
I didn't know how to take that.
"I don't sleep around." I frowned.
"I know." He said gently, "That's my point, precisely. Few people would attempt to get close to you."
"Except for you." I noticed.
"Yeah." He nodded, smiling smugly.
"And I have a wall around me?" I said
"A wall… or just a front." He said thoughtfully, "You're wise and infallible and people around you watch you in awe-"
"No, come on…" I protested.
"-and to others, you're simply weird. People don't know that you're losing your hearing, because when you don't listen, they simply assume you're acting weird."
Ah, the weirdness factor. Something we had in common. Something else, I mean.
"And it gets a weird one to understand another." I smiled.
"Yeah" he admitted, "You know, I used to see you as infallible too. Untouchable." He confessed, "This hearing problem has changed that."
I looked away.
"Hum, Grissom. I know that you don't want to talk about it, but hearing aids are no big deal, nowadays; they're practically invisible-"
"They won't help" I interrupted. "Not in the long run; I have something called Ottosclerosis."
"Oh." He frowned, "I read something about it… It's hereditary, isn't it?" He paused for a moment, "You'll need surgery for that, but it isn't always effective."
"No." I admitted and then I deliberately added, "My age might be a negative factor."
He looked at me closely.
"What are you going to do if it doesn't work out?"
I shrugged.
"I'll have to quit my job. I think I'll do something different, like teaching." I said, "I'll probably move to Chicago or Washington-"
"Whoa, can't you teach here?" he was incredulous; "You could still work as a consultant to Las Vegas PD -"
"I can't." I said and before he could interrupt me I added, "You wouldn't understand, Greg." I couldn't really explain it either. Ottosclerosis felt like a weakness, as if I should have done something to prevent it.
We were silent for a moment.
"You should discuss this with the team-"
"No way; I'm not involving anyone in this." I said curtly. After a moment I confessed, "I guess I just don't want to be deaf in Las Vegas."
"You think that being CSI supervisor is all there is to you, don't you?" he said thoughtfully, "It's not like that, Grissom. Even if you can't be out boss anymore, you'll still be Gil Grissom, our friend." He reached and placed his palm on my chest. "Even if you don't hear me ever again, you'll still be able to feel this." He slowly slid his hand until he reached my groin. I closed my eyes, and sighed.
"Can you feel it, Grissom?" he whispered urgently, "Come on… come on..."
I reached out to touch him, mirroring his caresses. I rolled us until I was partially on top.
"I can feel you." I conceded. And then I kissed him.
When I woke up I was laying face down, feeling as if I didn't have a single bone in my body. He was lying next to me. And he was chuckling.
"What's so funny?" I mumbled, my words muffled by my pillow.
"I was picturing Catherine's reaction, you know; if I ever told her that you shoved your tongue down my throat."
That sounded crude. I lifted my head.
"Sorry."
"It's ok, Grissom; I did need the tonsillectomy."
"Oh, God," I cringed, and he chuckled again.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding!" he laughed, "It was great."
We looked at each other for a moment. I was trying to say something but he spoke first.
"Hey, it's late." He said, getting up, "I've got to go,"
I didn't turn to see him, but I was aware of his movements around the room: He picked up his clothes, picked up his keys… he put my clothes on the bed, he put his on…
Before leaving, he pulled the sheets over my head and told me to 'sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite'; and then he kissed me, doing his own version of a tonsillectomy.
I woke up late in the evening and got ready for work.
I felt great. Some muscles I hadn't exercised in a long time were protesting but I mostly ignored them, like I ignored some alarming thoughts: –you had sex with a coworker! You had sex with a guy! You had sex with a YOUNGER guy!
YOU HAD SEX!
I didn't really think about it until I got to the CSI parking lot. I stayed in the car for a while, thinking of what to say to Greg. I was seriously wondering if we could get together without it affecting our working relationship, when I saw him arrive in his motorcycle. He wasn't alone, though; someone was riding behind him and, judging by the flowing blond hair, it was a woman.
I watched as both of them got off the motorcycle and took off their helmets to kiss. She put on her helmet again and said something; he laughed and waved goodbye.
I remained in the car long after he had entered the building. Soon it would be late, but I couldn't face anybody right now.
My first thought was, 'Why did he have sex with me if he has a girlfriend?' My second thought was, 'Ever heard the phrase 'pity fuck'?
For the first time since I woke up I saw things as they were: He had just tried to comfort me; he hadn't fallen in love with me, or overlooked the fact that I was older, overweight, and had gray hair everywhere.
On the other hand, I had to admit that I had fallen- Uh, no, I won't say it. But my next thought was, 'Am I pathetic or what?'
I couldn't believe that I hadn't changed; after all these years I still confused attraction –even pity- with love.
I leant forward until my forehead touched the steering wheel and then… my shoulders started to shake. Great, at least I could laugh about it.
Someone tapped my window and I looked out.
"Something wrong, buddy?" it was Brass and he looked concerned.
"I'm fine." I said, getting out of my car.
"I thought you were crying." He was embarrassed.
"Nah," I dismissed, "I was laughing."
"Care to share the joke?"
"I'm the joke." I dead panned.
"Huh." He looked at me for a moment, trying to decide if I was being serious. "What, you had a bad day?"
"Not really." I shrugged. "It was a day like any other."
There's a sequel coming up…