DILEMMA

For this chapter I'm assuming that Sara is involved with Warrick.

Margot, this is my favorite story too.

The Christmas holidays came and went, and I felt I could start to breathe more easily. I'd finally met Greg's family and things had been great. Ok, not great, but better that I expected. For instance, my recurrent nightmare did not turn into reality: Papa Olaf and I aren't the same age –and he's much older than me. And Mama Asty was absolutely charmed by my gift.

On the other hand, neither papa Olaf, nor Greg's sisters were that thrilled about me at first. I understood completely; they were simply protecting the younger Sanders –the favorite grandson. I took it upon myself to do something about it and I ended up disarming papa Olaf by sitting beside him and listening to his endless talk of life in Norway. He appreciated the audience, and since he loved the outdoors, he told me all about the insects there.

As for Greg's sisters, I got along fine with Ingrid, but Karen was another story.

One look at each other and I knew she hated my guts. It was unmistakable -I've seen that look on perps before. The first she did when Greg introduced me was to say something in Norwegian that made them all wince and studiously avoid looking at me. Not missing a beat, Greg replied something in Norwegian too, and this time everybody's reaction was more mystifying: Karen reddened; and the others looked directly at my crotch.

I froze. I was fighting the urge to check on my zipper, when mama Asty intervened.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Gil; that was awfully rude of us. It's just that Karen said that you seem a bit long in the tooth-"

Oh.

"And Greg here," mama Asty added gleefully, "He told her that's not the only part of your body that's long."

With the exception of Karen, all the Sanders laughed, and papa Olaf clapped my back and said something in Norwegian that no one offered to translate but made them laugh harder.

Poor Greg was looking at me, worried about my reaction, but I smiled mechanically. I was thinking, 'What the hell; Christmas comes only once a year.' I could take it.

Later that day, mama Asty told me about Karen. She had been the baby in the family until Greg came along, and they couldn't be more different.

"When they were little, Greg would feed the mice in the den behind my back," she said, smiling fondly, "While Karen… she would trap cockroaches and spiders, and pick them apart, leg by leg-"

I winced and looked at Karen. She smiled evilly at me.

Mama Asty smiled placidly and added, "If she had started setting fires or wetting the bed, I would have worried," She smiled when she noticed me lifting an eyebrow. Cruelty to small animals, fire-setting and bed-wetting are classic signs of Psychopathic behavior, and I was surprised to hear her mention them, "I'm a Psychiatrist," she explained. "I was well aware of all the dangerous signs and I kept an eye on Karen, but in time I realized that she was only expressing her interest in the way living creatures functioned." She looked fondly at her granddaughter, "She's a surgeon now."

I wasn't convinced.

Still, things went well after that, and Greg's family reunion was a success. Family ties are important for him, and I was glad to see that all his hard work had paid off. As for the Sanders…I liked them, but I was glad that the next family reunion was eleven months away.

Now I know I better, but at the time I thought that meeting Greg's family –and doing it successfully- was the only rite of passage I'd have to pass in order to have a relationship. And January was such a quiet month that it left me utterly unprepared for my next trial:

Valentine's Day.

I was vaguely aware that couples made a big deal out of that day, but it wasn't until a week before the holiday that I realized how important the day was.

Sara, Greg, and me were going home at the end of the shift, when Sara (yeah, Sara) started talking about the big day. I was surprised by her talking about her relationship with Warrick until I realized that Greg and I are the only ones who know so far.

Dating Warrick has done her a lot of good.

"We're having lunch at La Lumière," She said proudly.

"Wow, nice, Warrick," Greg said appraisingly.

"Why do you assume that he made the reservations?" Sara frowned.

"Wow, nice, Sara." Greg said, using the same tone.

"Actually, it was Warrick," Sara admitted. "It's the first time either of us celebrates the day and he's obsessed with the planning. What about you?" she asked Greg, "Any plans?"

"Not yet." He said evasively.

"Well, a table for two can be turned into a table for four." Sara said generously, "In case you're interested in a double date."

Sara knew better than to make that offer to me. She had no idea that Greg and me were together.

After saying our goodbyes, I drove to Greg's place. We hadn't had a chance to be together for almost a week; he'd been attending a seminar that took all his free time and I'd been in court, testifying in a case that seemed endless. We had seen each other, but only at the morgue while Doc Robbins explained to us why someone had died, or upstairs as Mia told us all about a victim's DNA. It had been frustrating.

We talked on the phone while we drove, discussing our priorities: breakfast or sex? I pointed out that we hadn't eaten in twelve hours, but he argued, 'Are you seriously telling me that you'd rather eat food?'

He was right, of course.

When I entered his apartment, he was already there, fiddling with his answering machine.

Without saying anything, I slowly pulled him to the couch.

We're always promising never to have sex on the couch again. It's messy, it's uncomfortable, we look slightly ridiculous with our pants pushed down around our ankles, and we have to scrub the denim cover afterwards. But it's the perfect place when we're in a hurry. We did not have much time that Friday –I needed to be in Court at ten, and he still had to go to his seminar.

But once he straddled me, I forgot all about being in a hurry. I mean, I really wanted him, but I also wanted to take my time. I tortured myself by unbuttoning his shirt very slowly, delaying the moment of rediscovery. He leant forward, now and then, to kiss my neck or to nibble on my ear.

I've never told him this, but the feel of his unshaven jaw on my skin is a big turn on. That morning I was feeling it only fleetingly, but it was enough.

So, there we were, cozily getting reacquainted with each other, when the answering machine picked up the first of several calls. I didn't pay any attention at first; those calls were usually predictable: there was always someone who wanted to hang out with Greg over the weekend -there was always a party to go to or a movie to see- or someone who needed a book or a favor.

I knew these friends of his and I was aware that some of them had been, at some time or another, more than friends. They were still in the picture because it's hard to let go of him, and because he's a generous, kind guy.

I usually didn't mind –after all, I was the one having all the fun; I could afford to be generous too- but this time the messages were different.

Sample:

"Hey, honey-baby," (a sultry female voice that I recognized immediately) "It's Danielle here; are you home? If you are, give me a call. I'm planning my Valentine's party, and I'd love to have you and Gil. And your punch, of course. Call me at the office, pleeeease!"

After two or three similar messages, I started to pay attention. Apparently everyone was throwing a party next weekend, and they were hoping I'd be going too.

"Hey," Greg said suddenly, firmly grabbing my jaw until I looked at him, "Pay attention to me."

"Sorry." I mumbled.

He was right, of course; there was something better to concentrate on –the skin I was slowly uncovering as I unbuttoned his shirt. I leant to kiss it, tasting the generic soap that we use at the lab. Greg had showered so quickly he hadn't rinsed off properly. No matter; with a little patience, I was going to get to taste the real him-

But Greg had other plans; he impatiently pushed me flat on the couch.

"Court today." he said hoarsely, " 'member? Got-no-time-"

Fine by me. Letting him take over is another big turn on.

Afterwards, Greg tucked his head under my chin and fell asleep, leaving the post-coital arrangements to me. Pinned down as I was by him, all I could do was arrange his limbs around me so we could share the couch. I put an arm around him and tried to get some sleep.

The calls kept coming, but it was the last one that really made me pause.

"Gregory, it's Pete. Robin's giving her red-heart party on Sunday 13; are you free? Maybe you can convince Gil to come- But hey, if he can't, I can hook you up with a cousin of mine. Call me, ok?"

Hook him up with a cousin?

I glared at the answering machine as if Pete had been standing there.

That night we got a call about a dead body in the desert, and I took Greg with me.

It was my night to drive -we usually took turns at the wheel whenever we worked together at a crime scene. I was tired, but I didn't mind driving; his lively conversation always kept me alert.

But that night he was unusually quiet. He was slumped against the passenger door, staring at the cars we were passing.

I decided to stop for coffee.

"What's up?" he asked when I made an unexpected turn.

"You're too quiet tonight." I said, "I need coffee to keep me awake."

He glanced outside and gaped when he saw the shop I had parked in front of.

"Loving Bear Donuts, Grissom?" he asked, completely amazed.

"Yeah."

"You come here?"

"Yes. Why?" I frowned, "It's a great place."

"But it's just so… cutesy" he protested, "and that damn smiling bear is so obnoxious-"

"Hum. Yeah, it is." I admitted. That smiling bear's face was everywhere, (even on the toilet paper), and its smile wasn't really nice; it was more like a psycho's. "But it's open 24/7," I said in its defense, "and it's one of the few places in this city that don't have slot machines."

"Yeah, but… Loving Bear Donuts-" he muttered as he followed me into the shop. "I mean, look at those stupid bears-"

"I'm buying." I said.

"Oh." He stopped, "In that case, I want chocolate donuts," He said, winking at me. "I'll get a table."

Ann, the girl behind the counter smiled at me. Actually, she smirked -something she had never done- and started reciting a list of Valentine's Day combos, (I still can't believe they got so many combinations from the three products they sell: coffee, bagels and donuts.)

I listened politely, but by the time she described the fourth combo, I'd had enough.

"Actually," I said while she took a pause to breathe, "I only want two cups of coffee and some-"

"Would you like our Harlequin combo?" she continued, "It includes two ceramic mugs and a dozen donuts of your choice."

"-bagels." I finished.

"If you like bagels, then you will love our Loving Bear Donut-Bagel combo." She said solicitously, "It includes half a dozen of our Red-Heart bagels and half a dozen donuts, plus two loving bear beanie babies-"

"I don't want any loving bear-"

"And with every combo," she interrupted, "you'll receive two loving bear hearts, completely free." She said, touching a red paper heart that she had stuck on her chest pocket, below her name tag.

It was then that I really noticed the decorations. The smiling bear, I had seen before, but now its face was plastered on red paper hearts all over the place, even on the employees.

"What can I get you?" she smiled expectantly.

Greg was grinning by the time I finally made it to the table. Not only had I let the girl talk me into buying the Loving Bear combo, I'd also let her stick a red paper heart on my shirt. She had practically ambushed me with it before I could say no. Greg had obviously been watching.

"Aw, how sweet-" he started.

"Shut up." I warned as he rose to take the tray from me. "See this?" I asked, showing him a red paper heart, "I can stick this on your mouth if you say something."

"Ha." he said, completely unconcerned, "Hey," he frowned, "Where's my loving bear beanie baby?"

I gave him a look, but I handed him one of the bears I'd put deep inside my pocket.

We sat and divided the food.

"I don't get it." I said, "I've come to this place before and that woman has never offered me any combos-"

"That's because you'd always come alone," he explained as he reached for a donut, "Tonight, she saw me coming in with you, and she assumed we were a couple-"

I froze.

"Why would she assume that?" I asked, feeling something close to panic. If a complete stranger could assume that, then people at the lab –professionals who are trained to observe- might do more than assume… They might discover the truth.

Greg grinned.

"Well… maybe she noticed that I was checking out your butt when we came in-"

I narrowed my eyes, but he only chuckled and picked up his cup of coffee.

He made a face when he got a whiff of it.

"These places sell the worst stuff-"

"You're a coffee snob."

"I'm a connoisseur," he amended, taking a sip. "Mmmmh. Actually, it's not that bad."

"Good, I'm glad you approve." I said, trying to sound sarcastic and only managing to sound relieved.

Greg bit into a donut and hummed his approval. He finished it in three bites.

"These taste differently," he said, eyeing another donut, "They're less oily-"

"See this?" I said, lifting a bagel, "From March to January it's simply a bagel with strawberry jam spread in the middle. On February it's a 'Red-Heart Bagel.'"

He grinned.

"It's Valentine's Day, baby." He said. "It's a chance for them to make an extra buck." He looked around, "I bet they don't even play this kind of music the rest of the year."

I hadn't noticed the music. They usually played non-descript instrumental music, but that night they were playing love songs.

"Hey, I like that one," Greg said suddenly.

"You do?" I was surprised; it was a really old one, 'You've Lost that Loving Feeling.'

"Sure." He nodded, "I've always thought it's a gay love song."

"What?" I frowned, "Why?"

"You don't see it?" he asked, "Oh, come on," he snorted, "One guy singing to another, 'Baby, baby, I'll get down on my knees for you'. Ring any bells?"

"That means he's willing to grovel for a girl's love." I argued.

"Or he's making a promise of good times to come." He replied, winking at me.

I smiled and bit into my red-heart bagel.

I was suddenly reminded me of the messages he'd gotten that day. We hadn't had time to talk about it, since he was still asleep when I left at nine.

"So, Robin has a Red-Heart party coming up, huh?" I said.

He was about to bite into his third donut but stopped.

"Did you hear Pete's message?" he asked.

"I heard several," I scowled. "It seems that everyone's planning something for next weekend."

"It's Valentine Day, Grissom." He smiled. "My friends take that holiday seriously. There are plenty of parties, but no matter which ones we go to, we all end up at Robin's. It's a tradition."

"A St. Valentine's Day tradition," I said. I should have left it at that, but I couldn't help asking, "Are there any other traditions that I should be aware of?"

"Well…" he hesitated, "Yeah." He nodded, "Dennis and I have always done something together."

I didn't comment. Dennis the Psychologist was yet another ex-boyfriend-turned-friend who kept calling and visiting.

"We take turns." He explained, "Two years ago he bought me dinner and last year I took him to see Elton John," Greg rolled his eyes, "That was a real sacrifice for me-"

"I didn't know you'd been together that long." I said.

"We've been friends for years." He shrugged, "We dated on and off-"

We were silent for a moment, but it wasn't the companionable silence that I'd come to enjoy in our relationship. It was unnerving.

"Want a refill?" I asked abruptly, and took his cup without waiting for an answer.

When I returned with the coffee, he looked up.

"Are you coming to Robin's party, Grissom?"

"No, but I'll be glad to make a contribution." I said. I never went to Robin's parties, although I usually sent a few loaves of French bread or a bottle of wine. Greg had given up asking me to come until then. "What about you?"

He briefly looked at me before shaking his head.

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's a Valentine's Day party, Grissom."

"So?"

He looked incredulously at me but didn't say anything.

"You should go." I insisted, "Robin's a good friend."

Greg put down his donut and stared at me.

"You really wouldn't mind if I went to her party-" He said slowly, as if he wanted to make sure he'd understood.

"You've done it before." I replied.

He looked at me as if I had grown an extra nose.

"What?" I frowned.

He shook his head.

"You could pretend a little, now and then, Grissom." He sighed.

"Pretend, what?"

He bit into a donut and chewed -slowly, very slowly, taking all the time in the world just to avoid answering.

I stared at him.

"Pretend…" I started, and then I had a sudden insight that left me stunned. "You want me to be jealous?"

He scoffed.

"Ha, like that's ever going to happen-" he muttered, "No, Grissom." he said aloud, "I don't want you to be jealous-"

"Good," I said calmly, "Because then I'd never have a moment's peace; you're always getting calls from your ten ex-boyfriends and girlfriends-

"Ten?" he asked indignantly, "Ten ex-boyfriends and girlfriends?"

"Ok," It was my turn to mutter, "Three."

"Yeah. Three." He said. He stared at me for a moment and then he leant forward. "Does it bother you, Grissom?" he asked, "The calls, the invitations-"

Oh, yeah. Only that morning I'd been telling myself that it didn't, but Pete's call had changed all that. He had offered to hook him up with someone else; I didn't appreciate that.

Not that I was going to admit it.

"No." I said. Greg kept his gaze on me and I felt I ought to explain, "Look," I said, "I admit those calls were kind of distracting today, but usually I don't mind. You're still an important part of their lives, and I understand that." I said reasonably, but he simply stared at me. What did he want me to say? I couldn't forbid him to see his friends, could I? "It's a healthy attitude." I said, justifying myself.

He sighed.

"It is," he said reluctantly, "I guess I just wish things were as easy for me." he added, before taking a sip of his coffee.

"What do you mean?" I frowned, but he didn't answer. He simply stared at me over the rim of his cup. "You're not jealous, are you?" I asked half in jest, but he didn't smile back; he just stared at me. "Greg, I don't have ten people calling me at all times;" I said and he gave me a look of disbelief that stunned me. "What?" I asked, honestly mystified.

He put his cup down and leant forward.

"Look," he started, "… It's just that sometimes, you -" he paused. He seemed to be taking too long to say whatever he wanted to say, and then he backed off, "Nah, you wouldn't understand."

I gaped.

I couldn't remember Greg ever having a problem explaining something to me. This really was a first.

I waited. I was giving him a chance to say something but hoping he would not; if he thought I wouldn't understand, then he was probably right.

Silence was heavy between us again. When my cell phone rang, I answered it quickly.

Brass wanted to know where the hell I was. He didn't say it as politely, but I didn't mind; I was grateful for the diversion.

We returned to the lab towards dawn. I went to my office, and Greg went to Trace.

It was a busy night; we didn't meet until he stopped by my office before going home. I was swamped with paperwork.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked, since it was his night off.

"I'm gonna stay home. I tivoed some shows-"

Our gazes met over a pile of paperwork.

I had successfully suppressed our earlier conversation from my mind for most of the night, but now I was reminded of his words and his hesitation, and I was suddenly afraid.

"Greg-" I started, but he spoke at the same time.

"Are you coming tomorrow?"

"Yes." I said, relieved by the interruption, "I'll bring breakfast."

"Ok." He smiled, "Great. We could watch the Myth Busters marathon on the Discovery Channel."

"I can't." I said regretfully, "I'll have to be at the Body Farm at ten."

"On a Sunday?" he asked, but before I could explain he shrugged, "Ok, then. See you."

He was reaching the door when I called out.

"Greg?" I waited until he turned. "Should I be jealous?"

He was surprised by the question. He leant against the doorframe.

"No." he said.

Then he was gone.

On Sunday, it was déjà vu for us: We had a quickie on the couch; we were dozing, and Greg's friends were calling again. I did my best to ignore them; I kept telling myself I had no reason to be insecure; that I was the one Greg wanted to be with.

I was doing ok until Dennis the Psychologist called. First he wanted to know whether Greg was going to any of the parties next week. Then he broached the subject of their annual 'St. Valentine's date'

"It's my turn this year, and I've got a huge surprise!" He said cheerfully, "I'll drop by at ten and tell you all about it. You're gonna be there, right? You better be," he added enthusiastically, "I'll see you, then. Oh, and in case I forgot to say it, I've got a biiig surprise for you, baby!"

I glared at the answering machine. 'Baby?'

Dennis, the Psychologist. Dennis, the guy Greg had been sleeping with on and off before deciding he wanted to be with me. Dennis, one of the ex-boyfriends who keep calling… Dennis, the Psychologist.

I've mistrusted Psychologists since I was a kid (and that's a sad story that I avoid getting into, even in my mind); therefore, I mistrust Dennis. Am I being unreasonable? Sure; he's always been nice to me, after all; he even encouraged me to give Greg a chance. But he's a Psychologist, he's an ex-lover who acted as if he was 'letting me' have Greg… And now he had a biiiig surprise.

I blinked my eyes open and frowned. I was holding Greg tightly, as if I was afraid someone might take him away from me.

After breakfast, Greg listened to his messages. It was my turn to wash dishes, but I kept glancing at him, trying to gauge the impact that each message had on him. Predictably, Dennis' message was the one that got him to react; he immediately picked up his phone.

"It's nine thirty, Grissom." He said while he dialed, "Aren't you going to the Body Farm?"

I was, but after hearing that exultant, "It's a biiiiiig surprise!" from the Psychologist, I thought I'd stay around a bit longer.

"I'll go in the afternoon." I said, "I thought I'd stay here and-" and, what? "-and fix the sink." I said. It wasn't a complete lie; I'd actually been meaning to do that for weeks and I'd even brought some tools from my place.

"Thanks. Hey," He stopped dialing, "Could you do me a favor? Dennis is coming by at ten; would you let him in? I promised to bathe Mrs. Cardona's dog today and it might take me a while."

Reassured by my promise to stay and work in the kitchen, he changed into old jeans and a t-shirt and left.

Great. I had Dennis all to myself.

He was clearly disappointed to see me there.

"Greg's bathing Mrs. Cardona's dog Rufus-" I explained as he followed me into the kitchen.

"Why is he doing that?" he asked morosely.

"Mrs. Cardona lives alone," I said, "Greg likes to help." I glanced at him, "Take a seat. It'll take him a while; Rufus is a big Doberman."

He reluctantly sat and I crawled back under the sink.

"You're doing the plumbing now?"

"I've been doing it for months," I retorted.

He snorted, but didn't comment.

He was silent for about ten minutes.

"You know…" he said suddenly, "I underestimated you."

"Did you?" I grunted. I was in a very uncomfortable position; I had contorted my body until it resembled a pretzel in order to reach the section that was leaking. I carefully removed the pipe and blindly reached around for the brand new part.

"I didn't think you'd last more than a couple of weeks." He said.

Whoa.

"Really?" I asked calmly, "Funny." I added after a pause. "I thought you wanted me to succeed."

"I was only playing the part of the 'understanding friend,' Gil." He admitted. "I was actually counting on you to screw up."

I didn't say anything.

"I was sure you would, you know?" he said, "I was sure that in a couple of weeks I would step back into the picture, and play the part of 'rebound boyfriend'"

"You must be pissed, then."

"It's ok." He said quietly, "I'm a patient man. Besides, you're bound to screw up sooner or later."

He paused, "After all…" he said, "How long can this last, Gil? One of these days Greg will start to get bored, you know that. One of these days he'll realize that he wants someone younger and more adventurous. Someone who isn't afraid to play games, or afraid of going to a party," he said pointedly. "You are afraid, aren't you?" he paused, "And the worst part is that you can't tell him why you avoid going with him. I understand. I could even explain it to him, you know? Tell him that meeting his friends isn't easy for you. Sure, they've all been nice to you so far, but deep down you keep wondering, 'What do they really think of me?' Or you wonder, 'How long before any of these young guys and girls steal him away from me?'

"And I'm sure there are other thoughts at the back of your mind." He said, "For instance, don't you ever wonder if your behavior is, shall we say, sleazy? I mean, you're so much older than him…You really must feel like you're living on borrowed time, Gil." he paused, letting me muse on these words.

I closed my eyes for a moment. It's one thing to be privately tormented by a recurring fear, and it's quite another to have someone else verbalize it so brutally.

"And yet," Dennis added, "It's not those boys and girls who will ruin this relationship, Gil." he said. "And it won't be me, either."

I was having trouble screwing the new pipe; my hands were greasy and sweaty and I couldn't get a hold of it. My back was killing me, but I was actually glad. By concentrating on that pain I was able to hear the rest of his speech without reacting.

"It will be you, Gil." he said. After a moment, he added, "You're your own worst enemy. You're not really capable of emotional involvement. You go through life as a spectator. You watch, you take notes, you solve people's puzzles… you solve crimes… but everything you do stays in the surface. There's a wall that you raised a long time ago and no one can go through or over… not even you. All these months you've been hoping he won't notice this, right? But how long before he does?"

I grunted when I finally screwed the new pipe in. I took several deep breaths and then I slowly crawled out.

I rose –quickly, pretending that my back didn't hurt like hell- and looked at him.

"Well, Dennis," I said, "If that's a sample of your therapy techniques, then all I can say is that your patients are screwed."

"You're not my patient." He said quietly, "But if you were, I'd ask you if your feelings for him aren't a bit… fatherly." He said venomously. "I mean, look at that," he said, eyeing a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter. "He never eats fresh fruit. But now you're taking care of him, aren't you? Like a concerned father."

Before I could reply, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Greg came into the kitchen and smiled widely.

"Hey, Dennis."

"Hey, Greg." He said, going to Greg and kissing him on the cheek.

I frowned. I hadn't noticed they greeted each other like this.

Oh, but of course…Not only was I rarely present when Greg's friends came to visit, I never went to their parties.

"So," Greg smiled good-naturedly, "what's the surprise?"

"Well, do you remember that last year we were going to LA-"

"On August?" Greg interrupted.

"Yeah," Dennis nodded, "for that game that-"

"The game!"

"Exactly," Dennis nodded, "But you couldn't find anyone to take over the lab-"

"And you had to handle that crisis at the shelter-"

Oh, for God's sake! Did they always talk like this, finishing each other's sentences?

"Well…" Dennis paused in anticipation, "this time I have…" he paused again as he looked for something in his breast pocket, "TWO TICKETS FOR THE BIG BASQUETBALL GAME ON FRIDAY!"

Yeah, he shouted the words. And Greg was impressed.

"Whoa, this is great-"

"We'll have the best seats, Greg; we'll be on the front row-" he explained.

I stared at them as they made plans for Friday, but I wasn't listening. I was still hearing the words he'd said earlier. The worst part was that he had been so damn accurate, I couldn't be angry with him. I was angry at myself for thinking that I could pull this off.

Me, in a relationship. Yeah, right.

"I was going to get an extra ticket for Gil-" Dennis said without looking at me. "But I figured he'd be working-" he finished.

That was a blatant lie, but uttered with such sincerity that I would have believed it if we hadn't had that little talk before.

I looked at them. They looked quite good together, and that made me feel worse.

Maybe this was the beginning of the end.

I looked away, and my gaze fell on the bowl of fruit he'd mentioned earlier.

I smiled. I didn't buy the fruit; Greg did. He likes taking care of me.

I suddenly decided not to make things easy for Dennis.

"Actually, I'm free on Friday night." I said, and waited for their reaction.

Both turned to me.

"Really?" asked Greg.

"You are?" asked Dennis.

"Yep," I nodded.

"You won't be working on Friday?" asked Greg.

"I have the night off." I said calmly.

Greg gaped.

"You didn't tell me." He said.

Of course I didn't. It wasn't true.

Dennis recovered quickly.

"I can get you a ticket of course," he said, playing the role of 'understanding friend' again. "It wouldn't be on first row, but-"

"Why, thank you, Dennis," I said, "But I already have plans." I glanced at Greg, "I thought we could go out."

Greg opened his mouth but Dennis spoke first.

"I'm afraid you'll have to change your plans, Gil-"

"I don't think so."

"You can go out some other time." Dennis insisted. "If you made a reservation, you can change the date." He paused, "What restaurant did you chose?"

Ha. Dennis was trying –very clumsily- to make me reveal my plans. No way was I going to tell. There was nothing to tell, anyway.

"It's a surprise," I said calmly.

Dennis was staring at me as if my skull was made of glass and he could read my thoughts –like a psychologist, in short- but I didn't cave in.

"You'll have to change your plans," he said.

"No."

"This is an important game, Gil." he argued, "A once-in-a-lifetime chance to see these great players-

I've seen once-in-a-lifetime baseball games. Basketball just doesn't rate as high in my opinion.

"There's a once-in-a-lifetime-game every year-" I dismissed.

"Not like this," Dennis insisted, "Several players will retire after this game-"

"We can watch it on TV later." I shrugged calmly.

"Maybe Greg would rather see it live."

"Maybe he'll like my plans better."

Greg was following our conversation the way one watches a tennis match. Right, left, right, left.

"Look, Gil," Dennis said, "I'm sure Greg would rather see the game than go to yet another restaurant-"

"He's seen enough games this past year-"

"Maybe we should ask him-"

"Yeah, maybe-"

"All right, that's enough!" Greg said sternly and we both turned to look at him.

For a moment I thought he was going to say, 'time out'! But he didn't. He turned to his friend.

"Dennis, thanks for the tickets; I really wanted to see that game-"

Oh, crap. This was the beginning of the end-

"-but Grissom has the night off," Greg added, handing him back the tickets. "And that's almost a once-in-a-lifetime event, so-"

I looked at Dennis, barely repressing the urge to stick my tongue out and cry 'nya, nya, nya, nya!'

Dennis looked crushed but not defeated.

"But Greg…I thought-"

"I know." He said gently, "Thanks, man. Maybe some other time."

Greg walked his friend to the door, while I washed my hands.

"Ha. I won." I muttered, smugly.

"What was that?" Greg asked when he returned.

"What was what?" I asked innocently.

He scoffed.

"You two were acting like kids-"

"No we weren't," I frowned. "We were only-"

"-having a pissing contest." He finished dryly. "I'm surprised you didn't take out your dicks to brag over whose was bigger." He scowled.

"Well-"

"And you wouldn't have won." he said firmly.

Ouch.

We stared at each other. He grinned.

"I would have won." He said.

I narrowed my eyes, pretending to be offended… but I was not.

"Yes," I conceded, "You're absolutely right."

Greg reached out and rubbed my cheek.

"But you're a close second, baby." He said.

I smiled and leant my face into his hand.

"So," he said, "These plans of yours… why didn't you tell me?"

Oh, crap. I'd forgotten all about it.

"Oh, well." I shrugged, "It was a surprise."

"It is a surprise." He noted, "I never thought you'd want to celebrate Valentine's Day. Now I feel bad for not making any plans of my own."

"It's ok." I said magnanimously.

"So," he smiled, "where are we going?"

"Well, hum," I couldn't come up with a convincing lie this time. "It's a surprise," I said lamely.

"Ok." He nodded good-naturedly. "Hey, are you staying? We can watch the Discovery Channel-"

I nodded distractedly.

I needed to make some plans, and fast.

TBC after Easter…