Name: Regarding Henry.
Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas.
Pairing: Greg Sanders/Henry Andrews.
Rating: M.
Warnings: Slash of the male on male variety. If you don't like the idea, then don't read it.
Summary: Greg gets a house guest. Six months after the trauma of "Fannysmackin'" sees Greg as less than his usual happy self. He then finds love and comfort from a very unexpected source.
Disclaimer: All characters within this story do not belong to me, they are owned by CBS Paramount Television and writers. Babylon 5 characters belong to JMS.
"You want me to stay with you?" an astonished Henry Andrews exclaimed, his mouth open wide enough to catch a small fish.
"Don't look so shocked," a suddenly disgruntled Greg Sanders replied. "My place is only a mile from yours, I also have a spare sofa, and I can't exactly see anybody else falling over themselves to offer you a place to stay."
"But why are you offering me a bed in the first place?" Henry wondered. "You hardly know me and you have no reason to help me."
Greg sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Henry's shoulder.
"First, we've known each other for several years now, and just because I don't come into your lab every day and spend hours staring lovingly into your eyes doesn't mean we're not friends. Second, you may have some misapprehensions, anal neat-freak that you are, that because I sometimes dress like a mess my apartment is in a similar state. Nothing could be further from the truth. Last but not least, your place is being fumigated and will be closed off for at least a week. You need somewhere stay, and I, being the fantastic and generous person that I am, would feel guilty if I didn't offer you the use of my large and comfortable sofa."
Henry looked a bit less traumatized at the idea, so Greg continued to pester him.
"Come on Henry, it's a sofa, not a proposal of marriage. Just say yes, so I can go round the lab telling everyone how wonderful and kind I am."
Henry knew when he was beaten. "OK, but I need to go to my place and pick up clothes and stuff for the week," he sighed.
"No problem. I've been feeling a bit lonely recently," a mercilessly teasing Greg leered seductively at Henry, "so I will be glad of the company."
Seeing that the shocked look had returned to Henry's face, Greg chuckled, and fired an amused broadside at his colleague as he gracefully sailed out of the door. "Calm down Henry, I promise faithfully not to jump on you and sexually assault you when you are sleeping, CSI's honor."
Greg had moved a long way down the corridor before Henry had time to respond, so he failed to see that the look on Henry's face had turned from one of shock to one of bitter disappointment.
Six hours later, Greg looked around Henry's apartment in mild astonishment, realizing that maybe he didn't know Henry very well at all. The minimalist décor and furnishings were of a quality that suggested that Henry came from a family with a lot of money to spend. The kitchen was stuffed with expensive gadgets and appliances that confirmed that Henry, unlike Greg, was a stranger to takeout food.
Greg experienced a fit of irrational jealousy at the sight of a TV screen covering a large part of one wall, a sound system so massive and powerful that it would make any grown man weep and a large collection of DVDs that screamed "I am a total nerd!" to everybody within a five mile radius.
Greg jumped in surprise as a hand was placed firmly on his shoulder, and a brief look of utter terror flashed across his face.
Henry frowned as he realized that Greg was not as self-confident at that moment as he wanted other people to think he was. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Greg and find out what was troubling his friend.
"Well, that's all I'll need for the week," Henry confirmed. "The contractors will be here tomorrow, and they will take care of everything."
"They won't steal anything?" queried an anxious Greg.
"They know who my father is," Henry smirked, "and they really want to avoid wearing a nice concrete overcoat."
Greg looked bewildered at that statement, not entirely sure whether Henry was joking or not.
"The look on your face!" Henry giggled. "Papa is a skilled and famous litigation lawyer. He won't pay them a cent until the job is done to his satisfaction, and will keep them tied up in court for months if they mess me around."
Greg smiled in response, suddenly deciding that he really liked this real world Henry a lot. He sensed that he might have found a kindred spirit in the lab technician.
"I'll forgive you if you bring all the Babylon Five and Crusade DVDs," Greg almost pleaded.
Henry placed them neatly into his suitcase. "So, Ivanova or Lockley?" he asked Greg.
"Both of course," Greg smiled at him.
"You slut," Henry grinned. "Let's go."
Three hours later they were both sitting on Greg's sofa, mugs of Blue Hawaiian coffee in hand, jumbo-sized tub of toffee popcorn strategically placed between them. They watched the Babylon Five pilot episode in a companionable silence.
Henry was surprised by just how much he liked Greg's apartment. The space was well laid out, had a bright and airy feel to it and was full of comfortable but old furniture. Henry realized that Greg had been nothing but honest with him about the apartment. The place was not in the slightest bit messy, and the large black leather sofa had turned out to be to be extremely comfortable.
Greg yawned deeply, and turned to Henry as the final credits rolled. "So, I suppose I'd better get some sleep then," he informed an equally exhausted Henry. "Do you want a lift in to work later?"
"That would be nice," Henry murmured, barely awake. "Thanks again for everything, Greg."
"No problem," Greg replied. He retired to his bedroom, undressed quickly, and fell into bed in his boxers. Sleep claimed him almost immediately.
Greg was woken by the sound of loud moaning. He glanced at his alarm clock and saw that he had slept for less than an hour. His natural curiosity overcame his annoyance, and he slipped out of bed, struggled into his three sizes too small silk robe, and made his way into the lounge as quietly as physically possible.
He was met by the sight of Henry tossing and turning on the sofa, wrestling with the blanket that Greg had given him, obviously in some distress.
Greg reached out a hand to wake his friend. A very loud groan from Henry stopped him in an instant.
Henry began to mutter barely audible words between the moans.
Greg leaned in close enough to catch what Henry was saying without being hit by a flailing limb.
"Oh Greg, take me, take me now," a sleeping Henry muttered. "Want you inside me, fill me up, come inside me."
Greg pulled back and gasped in silent astonishment. Greg's face turned red with embarrassment as he became aware that he was intruding upon a very private moment. Greg's blushing increased to a whole new level when he saw the blanket tenting in the region of Henry's crotch, and his eyes widened when he realized just how big his friend's concealed weapon was.
Greg felt a slight pavlovian expansion within his own boxers, and moved quietly and swiftly back to his bedroom, terrified at what might happen if he stayed.
He climbed under the sheets, and closed his eyes, mentally reminding himself to scrub the sofa clean of any stains with hot water as soon as possible, hoping that unconsciousness would curtail the confused thoughts running through his head. Greg was not inexperienced when it came to having sex with other men. He had experimented extensively on the Las Vegas gay scene and had not been celibate during the last decade. Henry was just so not his usual type, was not one of the muscled and tanned but mentally under-developed gym lovers that Greg was normally attracted to.
Henry's groans suddenly ceased, and Greg drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Erotic images of Henry and various ex-boyfriends punctuated Greg's dreams, and his own concealed weapon filled his boxers in response.
Henry was woken by the smell of coffee wafting through the air, totally oblivious of the events of the previous night. He sat up, and took in the sight of Greg in a silk robe that left very little to the imagination. Henry looked away quickly, scared that his body might betray his rampant desire for the other man.
Greg placed two mugs of his famous coffee and a whole stack of piping hot Pop Tarts on a tray, and carried it over to the sofa, desperately trying to avoid making any eye contact with Henry.
Henry slowly sat up, and Greg placed the tray on the small table in front of him, took his own coffee and then sank down into the corner of the sofa, as far away as physically possible from Henry.
"Breakfast is served," Greg said in a voice so cold and devoid of emotion that Henry stared at him, wondered what on earth was wrong with his host.
"Is everything OK Greg?" Henry asked nervously. "Did I snore, or break wind or sleepwalk or something?"
Greg took one look at his apprehensive colleague and realized that Henry had absolutely no memory of what happened last night. Greg was not a cruel man, but he decided that he had say something to put Henry out of his misery, had to put an end to Henry's unwanted and unwelcome desire for Greg.
"No Henry, you just thrashed around in your sleep, moaned a few times and muttered under your breath that you wanted me to fuck you," Greg whispered softly.
Henry's jaw dropped in astonishment. He buried his head in his hands and then he started to tremble uncontrollably. He had thought that last night had been just another silent dream. He had no idea that he had spoken his desires aloud, and was utterly mortified that the object of those desires had heard those words.
Tears of humiliation poured down Henry's cheeks. He started to panic and then began to hyperventilate. Henry would have to give up his job and move to another lab a long way from here. There was absolutely no way that he could work anywhere near Greg after what had happened.
Greg saw the devastating effect his words were having on Henry. His compassionate heart broke at the pain he had caused his friend and colleague and he hung his head in shame. He had badly hurt a man he cared for almost like a brother now, and he had to do something to put things right between them.
Greg swung himself round behind Henry and pulled the lab technician's heaving body against his chest. He tried to calm Henry's breathing by matching it to his own. After ten minutes of gentle synchronized inhaling and exhaling and tender stroking of Henry's trembling arms, the stricken man seemed to calm down a little.
Greg turned Henry to face him. He continued to gently stroke the dark-haired man's shaking arm with one hand, and lifted up Henry's chin with the other one. Greg looked straight into those tearful eyes and spoke softly to Henry, sensing instinctively the lab technician's fears and trying his best to calm them.
"I'm sorry Henry," Greg murmured soothingly. "I am so sincerely flattered that you find me attractive, but even though I'm gay too, I'm afraid I don't feel the same way about you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and I won't say a word about this to anybody outside of this room."
"You're not leaving the lab," Greg continued, "and you're definitely not moving to another state. I refuse to allow you to run away right now like a coward and stay in a hotel and you are absolutely not going to start avoiding me. I consider you to be a good friend, and would miss you like crazy, so we will carry on as normal, and nobody else need ever know about this, OK?"
Henry nodded his head, his face red from crying. Henry never listened to any lab gossip, and was therefore stunned by the revelation that Greg was gay. Henry also silently resigned himself to the fact that his feelings for Greg were never going to be reciprocated.
Greg gave Henry a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Now, eat those Pop Tarts while they're hot. We have a long shift ahead of us and I don't want you fainting from hunger in the lab."
Henry managed a weak smile. "If I eat all those carbs, Sanders, they'll need to widen the lab door," he quipped
Greg sighed with relief and knew that the worst was over. He got up and gently patted Henry's shoulder. Greg then walked into his bedroom, in desperate need of his en-suite shower, urgently wanting both cleanliness and a quick release from last night's sexual tension.
The two men arrived at the lab two hours later after a quiet but pleasant commute.
They walked down the corridor, and Greg pulled Henry into a brief chaste hug before they parted ways. Henry's heart pounded at being in such close proximity to the man he still wanted.
Greg slapped Henry playfully on the ass as he walked away. Henry gasped for breath and almost turned around to yell at Greg that he had to stop leading him on like that. Henry then realized that Greg was just being Greg. The young CSI flirted constantly with all the staff at the lab, except for the terrifying Gil Grissom. Henry knew that all of Greg's colleagues accepted this behavior and saw it as harmless fun, although Catherine Willows for one would have castrated Greg if he ever tried to slap her on the ass. Henry came to the conclusion that he had to walk away and not add to his already high level of embarrassment by responding angrily to Greg's perfectly characteristic behavior.
"See you at the end of shift, sexy," Greg smirked.
Henry closed his eyes and silently counted to ten, mentally preparing himself for a long and difficult night. Henry knew that he had gone from being one of Greg's many friends to being a surrogate brother overnight, but was less than pleased with the situation. He wanted Greg to love him the way Henry adored the young CSI. This close platonic relationship was, if anything, even less satisfying than the one they shared before. Then, at least, he was able to admire Greg from afar. Now, Henry was much closer to Greg but was unable to reach out and touch him in the way that Henry wanted to, and it drove him wild with disappointment. Henry walked into his lab and decided to throw himself into his work so that he didn't have time to think about the way things had turned out.
Archie Johnson studied the behavior of his two close friends through the glass wall of his lab and shook his head in amusement. He knew all about Henry's deep attraction to Greg, and knew also that Greg would never understand what a wonderful lover Henry could be without a little outside help.
Archie had drunkenly fallen into bed with Henry on one occasion nine months ago after a particularly good lab technicians' night out. From Archie's blurred memories of the experience Henry had been an intense and passionate lover who had taken Archie to levels of arousal that he had never experienced before.
Archie knew from whispered gossip and rumors that Greg preferred to date men who were well built but also his intellectual inferior to compensate for Greg's own serious body issues. Greg, despite the outward appearance of self-confidence, firmly believed that his body was too thin and unattractive, and the attack of six months ago had only made those insecurities worse.
Archie wanted more than anything for Greg to find a man to help him realize that his lean body was very sexy indeed. Archie hoped that Greg would find a lover who could satisfy his emotional and intellectual needs as well as his physical desires. Greg also needed somebody who could ease him through the horrifying nightmares that he had experienced on an almost daily basis since the Demetrius James incident. Archie had been one of Greg's friends and colleagues from the lab who had taken it in turns to stay with Greg and watch over him every time he slept in the three weeks following the attack. Archie had witnessed the screaming and the thrashing around at first hand.
Archie firmly believed that Henry was the man who could do all those things for Greg, and decided that he had to do something to get his two friends together. A plan began to come together in his mind.
An hour later, Archie entered the toxicology lab. Henry looked up at him and smiled. "So, what brings you into my lair?"
"I feel like I owe you after the good time you gave me a few months back," Archie grinned.
Henry flushed with pleasure at the memory of that night of passion.
"Now, it's no secret that for some reason you want to make sweet love to Greg Sanders, so I'm going to tell you something that may help you out with that," Archie whispered to his friend.
Henry blushed at the fact that his desire for Greg seemed to be know to everyone in the lab. "What could you possibly know that could help me get together with Greg?" he questioned Archie.
"Well," Archie replied, "a few of us had to take turns sleeping over at Greg's place the first three weeks after the Demetrius James incident. Greg used to get the most terrible nightmares almost every night, and the only way to calm him down was to take him into your arms and sing his favorite Norwegian lullaby to him."
Henry suddenly worked out what Archie was suggesting, and his eyes widened in apprehension and horror.
"There are two problems with this little scenario," Henry groaned in despair. "One, I don't speak a word of Norwegian, and two, my singing voice makes a strangled cat seem melodic."
That doesn't really matter," Archie smiled. "When he wakes up to find you holding him and singing that song to him, he won't be able to stop himself from falling in love with you, unless he's not in fact the wonderful man we all know him to be."
Henry looked at Archie, a hopeful expression on his face for the first time. "So, how do I learn this lullaby?" he queried.
Archie gave Henry a one-page computer printout. "Already downloaded it for you, my friend," he grinned.
Henry gently kissed Archie's cheek in happiness and headed for the break room, determined to make this work.
Both men failed to spot Greg staring at them through the glass wall of his own lab. They also totally missed the unreadable and unfathomable look that passed over Greg's face.
TO BE CONTINUED.