THREE DATES

Romance. Slash.

Play with Fire and Inside the Box –but I didn't use the episode's timeline, and the dialogue between Gil and Greg isn't faithful to the script.)

Gil/Greg slash (don't read if you can't bear the thought of these two being in a romantic relationship)

I added a few lines on June 1, 2005.

Three dates in three years

First Date

2003

Greg opened his locker, chose the lightest jacket he kept there and slowly put it on. He was tired –exhausted, actually- but more than that, he was angry.

He pushed his locker shut with a slam, and for a moment he let his hand rest flat on the metal surface. He looked at it, defying it to shake. It didn't, of course. It only happened when he was inside the lab or when his boss came by to give him an assignment, like last night.

"Greg? Your hands are shaking."

That's what Grissom had said. Greg had been genuinely moved by his boss' interest –until the next question, "Does it affect your work?" made him realize what Grissom's true concern was.

Greg had denied that the slight tremors could have any impact in his work, of course. Really, what else could he tell his boss? Besides, it had not affected his work. Not much, anyway. So far, it had only slowed him down. Tests that he used to perform at an amazing speed before, were now taking him longer; he was double-checking every piece of equipment he used -before and after he performed the tests - and then he repeated the whole process just to be sure. Not very cost-effective, was it?

He had been telling himself that it was a temporal problem, and hell, it better be. 'Cause if he continued like this, soon everyone would start complaining to the boss, and then-

"If you need to talk about it, I'll be around." Grissom had said.

Greg snorted. Right.

Ha. No way was he going to spill his guts to Grissom. The man's main concern was the lab, and if someone failed to do the job, then Grissom would simply have them reassigned –temporarily or permanently. Not that Grissom had ever done that, but then nobody had ever had the shakes at the lab. Greg looked at his hand again.

"You'll have to do better." He muttered.

Greg turned to leave and was surprised to see Grissom standing by the door. And –oh, shit- he was staring at Greg's hand.

"Grissom?"

"Everything ok, Greg?" he asked.

Greg looked down and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah." He said. "I'm fine."

"Good." Grissom said, "You're leaving already?"

Greg looked up and noticed that Grissom was smiling faintly at him. He also noticed a look of eagerness on his face –a look that Greg knew well: It meant there was a break in a case, and he needed every CSI to stay for another twelve-hour shift.

Oh, hell. He didn't want to go back to the lab right now.

He managed to speak cordially to his boss.

"I thought I'd leave early, today."

"Could you spare me an hour, Greg?"

Oh, damn.

Just a week ago, he would have been happy to oblige, but now he just couldn't do it.

"I'm beat, Grissom," he said, hoping to appeal to his boss' innate kindness, "All I want is to go home and sleep."

Grissom was immediately interested.

"You haven't had trouble sleeping since the explosion?"

"Actually, I've been having insomnia-" Greg admitted unguardedly, and then he paused. "Why?" he asked cautiously.

"Because I think I can do something about it," he said, "You're stressed out, Greg," Grissom pointed out, "All you need is to relax, and I can help you."

Greg frowned. He had heard those exact words before, back when he was at Stamford. He had ended up in a back seat, half naked, sweaty, and sticky…

And relaxed. Oh, yeah-

Greg suddenly realized he hadn't had sex in a long time.

He looked at Grissom. The older man was smiling his 'our-evidence-solved-the-case-' smile, and his eyes were twinkling.

Greg hesitated. Could it be…? Was Grissom thinking what he was thinking?

"So? An hour?" asked Grissom.

He didn't answer right away.

"Hum-" Greg cautiously cleared his throat, "Ok." He nodded, "What do you have in mind?"

"We're going out."

"Going out, where?"

"It's a surprise," Grissom said, "Come on," he added, motioning him to follow, "I'm driving."

Greg waited for an explanation, but none came. Grissom drove and talked about the case they had closed earlier that day, but nothing else. Every time Greg asked where they were going, he simply said,

"You'll have to be patient, Greg."

Greg tried to be patient and was successful for about ten minutes.

"Why all the mystery?" he asked after a moment.

"Well," Grissom glanced briefly at him, "If I told you where we're going, you'd probably say no."

Greg's eyes widened.

"Why would I-" he started, but the look that Grissom gave him made him stop. "Ok. I'm going to be patient." He said.

His curiosity was piqued now; he didn't think he'd ever be able to say 'no' to his boss, (either inside or outside the lab), but on the other hand, he didn't know what Grissom's plans were either.

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't know his boss at all. He had never been able to pinpoint or classify him.

Greg looked sideways at Grissom.

A few years back, one of Greg's friends had remarked that not knowing anything about Grissom's private life was exciting. Was he a heterosexual? Was he not? And then Linda–a female DNA technician who moved away shortly after- said something that stuck in Greg's memory, 'Maybe we just shouldn't put labels on him; I believe he's open to all possibilities. The trick is to engage his interest and to keep it.'

So, open to all possibilities, huh? Greg glanced at his boss again. Could it be possible? Greg himself had never let anyone pin down labels on him; maybe Grissom was like him?

Greg shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? That explosion had really messed up his head. Greg glared at his hands. See what trouble you've got me into?

He was nervous -and hell, he had a right to be: Grissom had always made him nervous just by being himself, but now he was being weird – or weirder than usual, some would say.

The problem was that when Greg was nervous, he babbled.

"You know…" he said and paused until Grissom glanced at him, "The last time someone offered to help me relax, I was in College." A little voice inside his head frantically advised him to stop right there, but Greg couldn't help himself, "We were up for a whole weekend, cramming up as much knowledge as we could for a test. Even I was making up for lost time," he admitted, "I'd been spending too much time engaged in, shall we say, extracurricular activities."

Grissom glanced at him and Greg shrugged.

"We all were." He said dismissively "Studying, I mean." He smiled, "So, on Monday I took the test, and I did ok, but I just couldn't relax, you know? I was so just so wired- I couldn't even sit still. So, there was this friend who offered- you know." He paused, but Grissom didn't give him any indication that he knew. "My friend, Zenia," Greg said and then he realized he hadn't thought of her in a long time. "Great chemist, by the way; she stayed at Stanford doing research." He smiled wistfully, "I wonder if she still remembers that afternoon. She drove us to a secluded spot off campus, and then -" And then, in a couple of hours she'd taught him more than he'd learned from others since losing his virginity a year before.

Greg suddenly noticed that Grissom was not glancing at him anymore.

Maybe he shouldn't finish his story.

He cleared his throat.

"Hum, by the way… I appreciate what you're doing, boss." He said, but Grissom didn't acknowledge his words, "Grissom?" he said again and then he waved a hand to call for his attention, "Hey, boss? I appreciate what you're doing."

Grissom glanced at him; he was dividing his attention between the road and Greg but fortunately traffic was light.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I appreciate this." Greg said, "I mean, you left the lab to spend time with me, and-"

"That's ok." Grissom dismissed, "This won't take us more than a few minutes."

"A few minutes?" Greg repeated. "Way to sell yourself." He muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." Greg replied. "Private joke," he explained.

Well, it was a joke, Greg thought. He had started to believe that his boss –Gil Grissom, the great enigma- was going to help him relax in the best way possible. Yeah, right.

He decided to stop speculating, and just sit back and enjoy the ride. It was just as well, because he would never have guessed what Grissom's plans were.

When Grissom finally turned into a parking lot, Greg gaped.

Could things get any weirder?

"An amusement park, Grissom?"

Grissom had been looking expectantly at him.

"Yes." He nodded, "What, you don't like them?"

"Well," Greg hesitated. Ha, like he was ever going to say 'no' to his boss, right?

"I guess-" he added.

"Come on," Grissom said, getting out of the car.

"The park's closed."

"I know the owner." Grissom said, "He opens the park for me now and then."

Indeed, it looked like someone had been waiting for them all along. A little man waved at them from a side door.

"Doctor Grissom!" he greeted in a high pitched voice.

"Doctor Gordon," Grissom smiled back.

Greg exchanged greetings with the man, while busily trying to remember the politically correct term –Midget? Little person? Dwarf? Well, it didn't matter. This was Doctor Gordon, and he was ushering them inside.

"Go ahead," he said warmly, "Sammy's waiting."

"I appreciate the favor, Doc." Grissom said.

"Enjoy the ride," he said, "Oh, and I'll see you on poker night, Doc." He called out as they walked away.

Greg glanced back.

"Where did you meet this Dr. Gordon, Grissom?"

"At a convention."

"It's great to have friends in high places, huh?" Greg joked, but got no response. "So," he said, trying to be more serious, "This Dr. Gordon… is he an Entomologist, too?"

"He's an Endocrinologist."

"Wow. He's his own field of investigation." Greg mused, "You know… it's kinda surprising that he owns an amusement park. Sure, it's not a carnie, but it's close-" Greg looked expectantly at Grissom, but the older man didn't comment.

Greg looked around. The park was eerily silent. Greg found it unnerving; he'd been raised on a steady diet of cheap horror movies, and empty amusement parks were a classic of the genre.

Even the kids' rides looked ominous.

That reminded him of Dr Gordon's comment.

"What ride was he talking about?"

Grissom didn't answer, but it wasn't necessary. He was staring ahead at what was obviously the biggest attraction in the park: The Deadly Plunge Roller Coaster.

Sammy, the guy in charge, fussed over them - he checked on the metal bar that would keep them secure in their adjacent seats, told them to empty their pockets of any loose items, warned them that the Plunge would go off 'in five', and then left.

Grissom was bursting with enthusiasm.

"They call this ride The Great Puker." He said.

"That's promising," Greg muttered to himself. "Grissom?" he said aloud, "Why are we doing this?"

"It'll help you relax." He said as if it were obvious.

"Relax?" Greg asked incredulously, "Do you really think riding the Great Puker is gonna help me?" he shook his head, "No offense, Grissom, but I can think of a better way to get all the relaxation I need."

"Well," Grissom shrugged calmly, "you'll have to do it my way this time."

Greg couldn't resist.

"Are we going to do it my way next time?" he taunted.

Grissom ignored this.

"Whenever I'm too tense, I come here." he said, shifting a little in his seat, enjoying the anticipation, "It's a cleansing process, but only if you don't resist it," he said, in full lecture mode now, "Don't close your eyes, no matter what. If you need to puke, just go ahead-"

"I'm not going to puke," Greg said almost angrily. Did his boss think he was a wimp who couldn't take it?

"What I mean is that if it happens, we'll deal with it." Grissom said gently, "And don't forget to scream," he said firmly, "Just let go, Greg; don't hold back just because I'm here-"

"Grissom, I've ridden roller coasters before, ok?" he said dismissively, "I think I know how to handle thi-"

Greg didn't finish the word because just then the ride began and he felt as if his guts had been suddenly pulled out and then pushed back in, and that's when he remembered that he had done this before, but he hadn't done it in a veeery long time.

He loved it.

"OH, SHIIIIIIT!" he screamed, but he was laughing as well. In just a matter of seconds they were flattened against their seats and then pushed forward, and then, without any warning at all, they were upside down. Greg stretched his arms, as if he could reach the ground with just a little effort.

"IT'S GREAT, ISN'T IT?" Grissom yelled, and he stretched his arms too.

"AWSOME!" Greg shrieked.

And then, it happened. Greg didn't know why he did it, except that it felt right: he reached out and grabbed Grissom's hand.

They screamed and held onto each other's hands as the ride took them through tunnels and peaks and sudden plunges.

It wasn't until the ride was winding down that they realized they were practically holding hands. Abruptly, they let go of each other.

Doctor Gordon was nowhere in sight, but Sammy opened the door for them.

Greg followed Grissom to the car. He was pleasantly tired; he felt as if his legs had turned into rubber.

"That was some ride, huh?" he smiled as Grissom started the engine.

"What?" Grissom frowned.

"I liked the ride," he said, "Thanks."

"It'll help."

"I think you're right." Greg admitted, "I feel like I'm going to fall asleep as soon as put my head on the pillow."

"Good."

Greg sat back and closed his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't stay quiet for long. He glanced at his boss.

"You know," he said, "I'm kind of surprised that you do this to relax. I thought you meditated or something." He paused. Grissom shrugged slightly but didn't comment, "I guess sometimes you really need to do something more physical. Right?"

"Maybe," he admitted.

"So, boss…" Greg said after a moment. "Do you ride the Great Puker often?"

Grissom hesitated.

"Hey," Greg smiled, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Greg," Grissom started, "We have a highly stressful job. We all find ways of dealing with it."

"I guess riding a roller coaster is better than a beer binge." Greg said. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Every couple of months," Grissom said at last.

"And do you come alone?" Greg asked and he immediately snorted. "Oh, shit." He shook his head, "I'm asking you the kind of questions I ask when I'm out on a date."

"You wouldn't come here for a date," Grissom scowled.

"I guess not. Not ordinarily." He admitted, "But I had fun today." He added good-naturedly, "So I'm going to call this a date, if you don't mind." He joked.

Grissom looked away.

Greg smiled mischievously.

"So, what's your sign, Grissom?" he asked.

It was another 'date' question and Grissom knew it; he smiled reluctantly, but didn't answer. He concentrated on driving… until Greg spoke again.

"Do you date, Grissom?"

"No."

"Never?" he asked. "Never." He repeated, trying to picture himself in Grissom's place. Never go on a date? Impossible. "I guess not everyone would go to an amusement park, huh?" he mused aloud. He looked at Grissom and waited until he was sure he had his boss' attention. "You know what? Next time, we should come when the park is open. Amusement park hot dogs are tasty."

Grissom looked away.

Greg frowned. Grissom was barely talking now. What had happened?

Suddenly, Greg closed his eyes. Oh, shit.

He couldn't believe this. Grissom might not be easy to pinpoint, but in the end he had reacted just like any guy would.

"Hey… Grissom?" he hesitated, "You're not pissed off because I grabbed your hand, are you?"

Grissom hesitated, but Greg didn't give him a chance to reply.

"I really don't know why I did it." Greg said sheepishly. "I mean… Sometimes I just go ahead and do things or say things that piss people off-"

"Greg, I'm not pissed off." Grissom said calmly. "Just forget it."

But of course Greg couldn't.

"The thing is… when we were on the ride, it was like being a kid again, or something."

"Uh, huh."

"Maybe that's why I- you know."

"Probably,"

"You're not going to tell, are you?" He asked. "Shit." He cringed, "If word goes around that I grabbed your hand-"

"Greg?" Grissom interrupted, "Just shut up."

The words were harsh, but he was smiling faintly.

"Ok." Greg said cautiously. He remained silent until he noticed that Grissom had made an unexpected turn, "We're not going back to the lab?"

"No, you shouldn't drive right now. I'm taking you straight home."

Grissom drove in silence until they were in front of Greg's building.

Greg didn't move.

"Grissom… What I said about calling this a date-"

"Greg, just forget it-"

"It was a joke." He said.

"I know that-"

"I guess I haven't been myself these days." Greg admitted, "This last week's been hard, and-" And he was whining, for God's sake. This was exactly what he had vowed not to do.

"Greg, I know." Grissom said, "You've been under a lot of pressure at the lab."

"But I should be able to manage this," Greg said angrily, "I mean, people get stressed out all the time and they don't shake all over the place, do they?"

"Greg, how many of us have been in the middle of an explosion? At their workplace?" he asked reasonably. "Look, you're going to be fine, but it will take time." He warned, "We'll help, Greg." He added, "We'll get you through this, ok?"

Greg looked at Grissom, gauging his sincerity. Grissom's blue eyes met his gaze.

"Ok." Greg nodded, "Thanks."

"Now go inside and sleep."

"Ok." Greg said gratefully.

Greg entered his apartment and for a couple of minutes he simply leant back on the closed door, reviewing the events of the day. He winced when he recalled every damn thing he'd said. He had always babbled when he was around Grissom, but this time he had gone too far.

As for the hand-grabbing…

"Ah, shit." He muttered.

He went to his room, slowly taking off his clothes and dropping them along the way. He sighed when he finally got into bed.

"What a day," he muttered. And this was only the beginning, according to Grissom. "It will take time," he had said, and Greg believed him.

"Oh, hell." He sighed.

He lay under the covers, tired, but unable to fall asleep. He stared at the old clock that he kept on his night table - a gift from his grandfather – and started counting the seconds.

And suddenly, it seemed that the ticking of the clock changed, and instead of the faint tick-tick, he heard words -It-will-take-time, it-will-take-time …

He sighed. And then all of a sudden he remembered that Grissom had said something else.

"We'll help." He'd said, "We'll get you through this."

A slow smile graced Greg's lips.

No matter what he or anybody else had said that day; those were the only words that mattered.

"We'll help. We'll get you through this."

Greg let those words lull him into sleep.

Epilogue

Grissom sat behind his desk. There was a pile of reports that he needed to review, but he couldn't bring himself to start.

He kept thinking of the park and the ride… and the feel of Greg's hand in his.

Grissom sighed.

He had only himself to blame. He had lowered his defenses just enough to do something nice for a colleague and this is what he got. He, who avoided touching anyone but the dead bodies he encountered on the job, and who had successfully kept people away for years, had let someone grab his hand. No big deal, some might say. Except that for him it was a lifetime event, one that he was completely unprepared for. Greg's hand had felt like a lifeline; a source of strength and comfort that Grissom didn't know he needed.

He shook his head. How could such a simple action change things like this? It was as if he had been asleep –cocooned and protected by denial- and now that he was awake, he was discovering how starved he'd been for a little human contact.

He closed his eyes, tiredly.

He did not need this; he had enough problems. The lab explosion had brought unwanted attention from the directors, at the worst time of his life: He was going deaf, the condition might be permanent, and if it was permanent… he would lose his job –his raison d'être.

The otosclerosis was getting worse, too. He'd had trouble hearing Greg and had resorted to lip-reading, something that was pretty dangerous if you were driving.

He'd read the words that had made his heart jump- "Next time, we should come when the park is open." "I had fun… I'm going to call it a date, if you don't mind."

Greg and his endless babbling. Greg and his strong fingers.

Grissom took a deep breath. What he needed now was to keep Greg at a distance, and he knew exactly how to accomplish that: He'd have the operation. It was ironic; he'd spent a whole year putting it off, and now he couldn't wait to go under the knife. He wouldn't tell anyone, of course; he'd ostensibly go on vacation, and if things turned out ok, he'd return with his hearing restored.

Catherine would take care of the lab. She'd make sure that Greg was ok -she'd probably do a better job than Grissom anyway.

By the time he returned, things would be normal again.

But for now…

He looked at his hand –the hand that Greg had touched.

It was shaking.

TBC

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