Horatio leaned against Grissom's blue rental, arms crossed, sunglasses on, staring out at the ocean. The car was parked at Butterfly World in Pompano Beach, one of three bug-related exhibits in the Miami area that Calleigh could find and the last one Horatio had tried. Relieved when he saw the car parked outside, he had gone in search of Grissom but found him nowhere within. After asking a staff member if they had seen anyone matching his description, they told him the 'bug guy' was with the head entomologist in back, playing with the spiders.

The wind ruffled Horatio's hair as the sun threatened to set. He didn't have to look over his shoulder, he could feel Grissom's eyes on his back.

Grissom stood with his fists balled in his sport coat, focused on the figure leaning against his car. Horatio was dressed in black slacks and black shirt with various shades of charcoal striping. Looking at the ground, Grissom felt impatient with himself, impatient with his emotions. He thought he had calmed down but looking at Horatio standing there, as breath taking as he was in Grissom's dreams, he felt thrown again.

"Get off the car." His voice was quiet.

Horatio turned, took off his sunglasses and placed his elbows on the hood of the car. His gaze was direct and levelled squarely at Grissom. It was more direct eye contact than the Lieutenant usually gave anyone but he was desperate. "I can't do that. Not before you promise me you'll be here in the morning." Maintaining eye contact with Grissom under the scathing look he directed at Horatio was difficult.

"You'll forgive me if I don't feel the need to appraise you of my intentions. Get off the car." Anger seeped into this sentence.

"If I do, I can't be certain I'll be able to find you again, so...Gil, I can't." Horatio intoned in his rough voice.

Grissom turned sideways from him and removed his glasses to rub his eyes. "What, calling in the GPS locator on my phone a second time'll be too much for you?" He snapped. Grissom's chest began to move noticeably as he drew in angry, upset breaths. "I dreamed about you Horatio. Every night since our...since that first night." There were no tears in his eyes but Horatio looked away from him. "I dreamed about you." Grissom shook his head and looked aside.

Both men felt the strange pain of unrequited love in their breasts. Horatio had to steady himself before he could continue, saying the only thing that came to mind.

"There's only three bug places in town. This is the best one but I checked them all...and after this, Miami has no good roller-coasters...you see my point." Horatio stumbled over his words, knowing his eyes were turning desperate. He didn't turn away.

Grissom raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't look up my GPS."

"That might've made more sense...would have been quicker." He admitted and risked a smile.

"You're a piece of work." Grissom's face softened somewhat. It made him look tired.

Horatio exhaled a laugh. "That's what my desk Sargent back in New York used to say."

Slowly taking his elbows from the roof of the car, Horatio walked around it to stand facing Grissom, keeping a couple of feet between them. He fingered his sunglasses nervously, bowed his head and looked up at Grissom.

"Just promise me you'll still be here tomorrow."

"Recommendations for a hotel?" Grissom said after a minute.

Horatio thought. "Miami Beach on Collins and 16th," he offered.

Grissom gave a small nod. "Now," he stepped forward, an inch away from Horatio, "Move." The words weren't vicious. The proximity let them both see how tired the other was. As they both caught hints of the others scent, they turned their heads to opposite sides. Horatio stepped aside and, as Grissom unlocked the door with the remote, he opened it for him. They didn't catch each others eyes again as Grissom sat and buckled himself and Horatio gently but firmly shut the door.

Feeling he'd never been so exhausted in his life, Grissom looked into his rear view and saw Horatio looking after him, hands on his hips. Grissom sighed deeply and drove on.

Leaning against the window frame of his hotel room, Grissom felt he really should turn around and hit the bed. Preferably like a stone. But he was watching the sun reflect off of the ocean in a million red and gold flecks. It was beautiful. His mind kept coming back to this fact, that it was beautiful, and he knew his brain had to be short circuiting.

His phone suddenly buzzed angrily on the night stand and Grissom turned to pick it up. Checking the display before he opened it he said, "Catherine."

"Gil, hey, I..."

"I'm sorry I haven't phoned yet it's-"

"You don't need to apologize to me, Gil." She didn't continue immediately. "I talked to Sara."

Grissom looked at the coral coloured carpet and blinked. He knew what she meant.

"I'm so sorry," Catherine said softly.

Grissom shook his head, suddenly angry at Horatio again. "Catherine, it's been-"

"I'll take care of the lab for as long as you need, okay? Take your time." Her concern made Grissom smile, if only a little bit.

"He's alive Catherine." Grissom said simply.

"What? What do you mean?"

Grissom sighed and shook his head again. "You're a woman."

"Last I checked," She quipped.

"He faked his death."

"He what? Why?" Any concern that had been in Catherine's voice was now replaced with incredulity.

"I don't know," Grissom sat down heavily on the bed. "But he basically forgot to tell me about this plan of his."

There was a pregnant pause from the other side of the line. "Uh, wow. I have no idea what to say to that."

"Well, I blew up at him." Grissom felt better talking to Catherine. She was his human connection and sometimes, he hated to admit it, he just needed her perspective on why they did what they did.

"That's fair."

He smiled, loving her for that. "He tracked me down-"

"GPS?"

"No, he looked at all the bug museums in town."

"Huh. Go about it the hard way, hey?"

"That's what I thought." Grissom mused, now staring at the stuccoed ceiling. "But I'm just wondering, you know, what have I gotten myself into? What am I doing with a guy who would do something like this?"

"What was he like before this little incident?" Catherine had calmed down and had switched to girl talk mode without even noticing.

"We only talked...on the phone but he's...charming...a little quiet sometimes. He's a basketball fan."

"Is he funny?"

Grissom furrowed his brow and thought about it. "Well, I wouldn't say he's funny in a...not in a usual way."

Catherine sounded impatient, "does he make you smile, does he make you laugh?"

"Oh, yeah, he does. And he's smart-"

"How's the sex?" She cut him off, sensing he was in a rambling mood.

"How is that important?" Grissom asked, confused and taken aback.

"Darlin', it's very important."

He didn't answer right away.

"You two have...haven't you?"

Clearing his throat, Grissom said "yeah..." He said it so quietly Catherine almost missed it. His mind went back to that night and all he could see was Horatio's blue eyes. He lost his voice thinking about it, his heart aching with longing for Horatio, for them in that moment.

"It was amazing," he whispered finally.

Catherin sighed. "You want my advice, right?"

"Please," he said forlornly.

"He sounds like a prize." She said simply.

"But what about faking his death and not telling me about it?"

"I'll admit, I've never heard of a guy screwing up quite that creatively before but, um, even the ones that get under our skin in the worst ways...they make mistakes Grissom."

He thought about this for a long while.

"Did he argue with you about it?" She added as an afterthought.

"About what, the death faking?"

"About whether he was in the wrong."

"Oh, no, he was...he was sorry." He could see now where she was leading him, as though taking a child by the hand.

"If it were me, I'd give him another chance." She said simply. "I've had my fair share of jerks and he just...doesn't fit the bill."

"Thanks Catherine."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Grissom groaned, "yeah, you've...given me some clarity on the matter."

"Good. Take the week."

"Thank you, again, I-"

"Don't thank me yet. I want all the details when you get back. You owe me dinner."

"Yes dear."

He hung up and laid down on top of the covers. He found the humidity to be more noticeable than he'd thought he would. Drifting off to sleep, his mind mulled over the details of his conversation with Catherine until it wound itself into his dream.

Listening to what his body was asking for, Grissom slept in. After laying in bed trying to sort fact from dream, he took a long, cool shower. As he dressed he thought fondly of Catherine, thanking her for the small blessings of a toothbrush and deodorant. Walking from his hotel, he quickly found a restaurant on the beach with a good view of the ocean and had a light breakfast. Travel and stress upset his stomach, so he didn't order much, mostly a sampling of fruit he could never manage to find as fresh in Nevada. His feet took him around the area where he found a flower shop and had a bouquet of white roses sent to Catherine. He sat on the beach for most of the day with a book he had purchased but barely touched. He just watched the tide and the waves and pondered how it was possible for so many bikini's to exist in such a small space.

Looking at his watch, Grissom felt relief and panic all at once. He had decided to meet Horatio at the lab, mostly to see the place but also to get on with whatever conversation they were about to have. He didn't want to wait any more.

Stomach churning with memories of yesterday, Grissom rode the elevator up to the lab. He stepped cautiously out and looked around properly. It was all glass, moreso than even than the Vegas lab, and you could see almost everyone working from any particular point. Fate smiled on him and Calleigh turned to see him from the front desk.

"Doctor Grissom," she called out. Walking towards him, she held out her hand and smiled brightly. "Welcome to the Miami-Dade crime lab. I'm Calleigh Duquesne."

"Thank you, lovely to meet you Miss Duquesne." Grissom said, taking her hand. He noted she had a stronger handshake than he was used to receiving from most women.

"I was at a lecture of yours a couple of years ago in Pittsburgh."

Grissom frowned as he tried to remember. "The pig lecture?"

Calleigh laughed. "I don't think that was the official name you used then but pigs may have been involved, yes. Can I show you around?"

"Please," Grissom responded with relief. He wanted to see the lab and it would be nice to have a guide other than Horatio.

Their facilities were new but Grissom could tell they were still building on the technology present. The CSI's and lab techs had more overlap in job description than in Vegas too and Grissom was amazed at how much work the smaller staff managed to accomplish.

He thought it was merely coincidence that Horatio happened to be in the last room Calleigh brought him to. Bent over a table, Horatio was cutting a piece of fabric apart with scissors. He was in a starched, white labcoat that bore his name on the breast pocket, the collar of his black dress shirt peeking out from it. His hands were gloved and his face full of concentration, his red hair falling over his eyes.

Grissom, having had several crushes on professors in university, suddenly realized he must have developed something of a fetish for labcoats. Or maybe it was just that Horatio managed to look stunning in almost anything he wore, he couldn't tell. Whatever it was, his already upset stomach protested this new feeling and Grissom feared he was going to be sick.

"Doctor Grissom, I believe you know the head of the lab, Horatio Caine." Calleigh stated this so Horatio wouldn't be too shocked when he looked up and to keep up pretences.

Horatio stood, looking surprised anyway, his eyes focusing only on Grissom. The only thing he had been aware of in the past few hours had been the case they were working on. Putting all of his problems aside, he was looking for trace his team might miss because they didn't quite know where to look. But his body was very much speaking to him now and his heart was racing.

Grissom looked greatly improved from yesterday. His eyes were no longer red and the puffy bags beneath them were gone. His face and his stance were more relaxed. Horatio looked at his lips, a feature he personally loved, framed as they were by his beard. Unless he was mistaken, Grissom had also lost weight and the muscles of his shoulders had filled out. Horatio's eyes fell to the table and the evidence on it before he looked up at Calleigh.

"Horatio, I was just showing Doctor Grissom around the lab but I should get back to the case. Would you mind finishing up with him?" She stared pointedly at him.

"Um, no, I don't mind. Thank you Calleigh," he managed.

Grissom glanced down as Calleigh left then looked at Horatio. "Are you almost off shift?"

Horatio's stomach muscles clenched. He looked at the fabric on the table again with almost a pained expression.

Grissom read him like a book, knowing the feeling all to well. He nodded, indicating the evidence. "Finish it."

Horatio looked up at him. "I can...it can wait," he said unconvincingly.

Grissom cocked his eyebrow at Horatio and twitched up one corner of his lips, causing Horatio to feel even more unsteady. "What are you looking for?" Grissom grabbed a pair of gloves out of a box on the table and stepped to Horatio's side.

Horatio breathed deeply without being obvious, Grissom's smell causing an odd pain to palpate in his chest. "Uh, epithelials."

Grissom stretched out the piece of fabric, a backpack strap, and examined it closer. "Background?"

"Sean Bradshaw was seen arguing with Lisa Adoro a few hours before she was found dead a mile from his work place." Horatio said, his mind switching gears again. "He claims he didn't see her after that and witnesses state she didn't have this backpack on when they were arguing."

"The backpack was found at the crime scene?" Grissom asked, narrowing his eyes at the seam of the strap.

"Lisa's family confirms it belongs to her. Sean may have grabbed it in the struggle." Horatio finished.

Grissom stood up and exhaled, looking sideways at Horatio. "That's a long shot."

Horatio raised his own eyebrows, "that's all we've got."

Grissom held out his hand for the scissors and proceeded to finish the cut Horatio had started. He then held open the strap for Horatio to swab along the seam, inside and out, hoping it's edge had caught even a hint of a killer.

The men walked in silence to DNA where Horatio handed Valera the sample and asked her to please run it immediately. He then walked to his office, Grissom following.

He was astounded by the austerity of Horatio's office. A single file sat on the corner of his desk, sharing ample space with a phone and nothing else. The walls were, of course, glass and the furniture was all simple, dark vinyl printed to resemble leather. As Horatio unbuttoned his coat and went to remove it from his shoulders, Grissom found himself catching hold of it from where he stood behind him. Horatio gradually released his grip so Grissom could slide it down his arms and off. Grissom didn't meet Horatio's eyes as he hung it up, instead looking to see if anyone in the lab had noticed this seemingly out of place gesture.

Horatio stood with his eyes fixed on Grissom until the other man looked at him. "Will you let me make you dinner?" He finally said.

"Yes," Grissom responded before opening the door and leaving the office. He waited by the elevator and watched as Horatio donned his suit jacket and made a quick phone call from his office telephone. Fidgeting with the collar of his jacket, he left the office and walked to DNA. When he emerged, he fixed Grissom with something of a devilish smile.

"Got him," he rumbled.

Grissom smiled and turned towards the elevator, putting his hands in pants pockets.

Horatio resisted the urge to kiss Grissom as he leaned past him to shut the door of his condo. They looked away from each other, knowing it wasn't what the situation needed even if they both hungered for it in that moment.

Slipping off his shoes with his toes, Horatio moved quickly into the kitchen to unpack his dinner making supplies. Looking up to make sure Grissom was still untying his shoes, Horatio took the bag and the last item in it and stole up the stairs to his bedroom. He quickly shoved the condoms he had bought into the drawer of his night stand and returned downstairs. No conscious thought had gone through his mind when he'd picked them up, sometimes he did things without noticing. It was only while driving from the store that he thought the site of them might further upset Grissom and rightfully so. Horatio had no intention of forcing any physical contact between them tonight or this trip even, that was, if it was even an option at all after this. He thought sadly of their first nights together, how blissful they had been.

Grissom was looking out the bay windows when Horatio returned.

"Wine?" Horatio offered, looking at his back. Ever since Grissom walked through the door of the lab, Horatio had been unable to get a good read on him. He still wasn't sure what was going through Grissom's mind but, at the very least, he was much less upset than yesterday.

"Please." Grissom didn't turn, instead keeping his eyes on the distant ocean in an effort to calm his mind.

Horatio uncorked the bottle of red he had purchased and poured them each a glass. Walking up behind Grissom, he offered him the glass and deliberately brushed his arm against Grissom's. Grissom took the glass without look at him, however, and Horatio stepped back. He retreated to the kitchen and busied himself there, occasionally looking up at Grissom's back.

Grissom eventually turned and sipped his wine as he moved about Horatio's living room. Desk in the corner, beige suede couch and glass topped coffee table, light-coloured hardwood floor throughout. He ran his fingers along the top of the office chair that was pushed into the desk, noting the faded look of the upholstery that the couch did not share. There was no television clearly visible and Grissom guessed it must be hidden within an entertainment centre that stood centred in front of the couch, two large silver speakers standing guard on either side. Gently pulling to unlatch the magnetic catch of the doors, he opened the entertainment centre to find, to his surprise, a very small television. The bulk of the space was taken up by a large stereo and an even larger collection of CD's, meticulously organized by artist. Johnny Cash, Miles Davis, Pink Floyd, Queen, The Who and Led Zeppelin were all present.

Grissom smiled a bit, thinking about how he and Horatio were clearly both children of the 70's.

"Feel free to put something on, if you'd like," Horatio said when he looked up and caught Grissom's smile.

Grissom studied the cd's a bit further before closing the doors with a 'click', his smile fading. He walked to the island that Horatio stood at and sat on a stool parked next to it. There was no dinner table to be seen.

He placed his wine glass on the island after taking a sip and looked up at Horatio. "What were you thinking?" He said it calmly, in a way that made Horatio uneasy.

Inhaling deeply before letting out a sigh, Horatio leaned against the island with his hands atop it and looked at Grissom. "It's pretty clear...to both of us that I wasn't." He looked down before picking up his knife again and continuing to chop.

Grissom kept his level gaze fixed on Horatio even as he looked away. He felt oddly calm aside from a twinge in his stomach.

As he went from chopping to adding fresh noodles to a pot of boiling water to sautéing vegetables in a skillet, Horatio laid it all out for Grissom. Ron Saris and the fused alloy bullets and the feds. Grissom came to realize that Horatio had failed to tell him quite a bit, and reflected that the relative shortage of phone calls between them in the last week was more telling than he originally thought.

Horatio finished talking as he unscrewed a bottle of vodka and added a splash to his skillet, causing a tongue of flame to whoosh up from it. He flipped the fiery contents by flicking the pan a few times before setting it aside.

Horatio set their plates down along with some cutlery and seated himself across from Grissom, flapping out a napkin and laying it across his lap. Only then did he risk a glance at Grissom.

Grissom was staring intently back at him, frowning slightly. "You felt backed into a corner." He said after a moment.

Horatio nodded his head, "I didn't think of it that way at the time but that would be...accurate."

Grissom unfolded his own napkin and took a bite of pasta, still processing.

"That's, um...that's the story. It's not, uh, not why...I asked you here, I mean it's important but..." Horatio stumbled and frowned in frustration. "I'm not trying to excuse what I did," he finally managed, looking at Grissom. "And I'm...I'm sorry. I hate thinking about you...having to hear that and think..." He found he couldn't finish.

Grissom's eyes had lost much of their hardness and they looked at each other for a long while before returning to their food. After dinner they found themselves seated, not on Horatio's couch, but on the floor directly in front of it so it could be used as a backrest. Their wine glasses and a bottle stood on the coffee table.

"Catherine thinks I should give you another chance." Grissom said, his tongue loosened ever so slightly by the wine.

Horatio finished taking a sip before saying, "I knew I liked that woman." He was rewarded with a genuine smile from Grissom and returned it, seeing Grissom's beard ruffle in the creases around his mouth.

"Why?" He asked, curious as to how she had come to the conclusion.

Grissom's smile turned into a grin. "Apparently a guy who screws up once but can make you laugh and is good in bed is worth his weight in gold."

Horatio's eyebrows rose at that. "Uh," was all he managed before he started laughing softly, blushing ever so slightly.

When he finished laughing he turned towards Grissom, a thought occurring to him. "Can I tell you something...strange?"

Grissom shook his head, "I don't know if I can ever think of anything you do or say as strange ever again." They smiled at each other.

"Hmmm, Never mind." Horatio looked down at his wine glass as he swirled it.

"Tell me," Grissom prompted. "Tell me," he said again, prodding Horatio lightly in the ribs.

"I thought..."

Grissom forced his smile away when he saw that Horatio's blush had intensified.

"That night reminded me so much of my first time." A little timidly, he cast soft blue eyes in Grissom's direction.

"Huh." Grissom said and thought about it. He turned to face Horatio, leaning his head in his hand and supporting his arm on the couch. "What was your first like?"

Looking as though he had lost the memory years ago, Horatio thought about it. "Her name was...Cindy and she," he smiled here, "she lived in an apartment two floors down from us. I took...one hell of a beating trying to stick up for her little brother this one time. He was getting beat up by half a dozen older boys and...well, we both ended up in pretty bad shape but she heard about what I tried to do for her...little brother and...wanted to thank me."

Grissom chuckled, "Really?"

"Yep. So she, she was a year older than me, she takes me into her bedroom when her folks are out and...I'm not going to say she made a man out of me because that's...that is not how it felt."

They laughed together as this.

"Anyway, it was exciting and scary and...our first..." their eyes met, "just reminded me of that." He frowned and looked away, as if embarrassed at himself.

"Hm," a soft sound of contemplation came from Grissom's chest. "How old were you?" He asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?"

"Twelve."

Grissom was looking at him with slight incredulity.

"How old were you?" Horatio felt forced to ask in the face of Grissom's disbelief.

"22."

Horatio then knew why the number had seemed unfathomable to Grissom. 22 seemed to illicit the same response in Horatio's mind.

"Why wait until you were 22?" Horatio asked as he topped up their glasses.

"It was when it was supposed to happen," he replied simply, taking the glass. "Adelle Sinclair. She was the first person I ever fell in love with, the first person I ever made love with and...the second person to ever break my heart."

Horatio nodded, "impressive statistics. What happened?"

Grissom sighed. "I asked her to marry me and she left for an internship in Guatemala the next semester."

They were silent for a while, contemplating the intimate details just exchanged.

"Who was the first person to ever break your heart?" Horatio asked, looking indirectly at Grissom.

Grissom's eyes clouded noticeably. "I don't want to talk about it." The tone of his voice dropped.

Horatio nodded after a moment and tentatively touched Grissom's jaw line with the tips of his fingers. Locked in one another's gaze, connected by the slightest touch, neither moved for a few minutes until Horatio stood.

Grissom looked after him, disappointed. Horatio opened the entertainment centre and bustled about in it until a woman's voice range out in bluesy tones. Closing the doors, Horatio moved his head to the music as he offered his hand to Grissom.

"Are you drunk?" Grissom asked, chuckling.

"I'm Irish," he responded seriously, "if I were drunk, you wouldn't have to ask that question. Give me your hand."

Grissom obliged as Aretha Franklin's 'Nightlife' range out through the house. He caught Horatio off guard when he pulled him forcefully close and began leading them. Both men were smiling, luxuriating in the contact so long denied to them. Their foreheads met as they swayed, the music forming a perfect balance between sensual and casual.

"Are you going to take Catherine's advice?" Horatio rumbled as the song finished, locking his eyes with Grissom's.

Grissom searched those blue pools. "Don't ever do anything like that again. I might not be able to forgive you a second time."

Horatio kept their shared gaze intact long enough to impart that he understood before they broke it and hugged tightly.

"You shouldn't drive back to the hotel tonight," Horatio said when they parted just enough to look at one another. "I can sleep in the spare room."

Grissom smiled sleepily. "Why don't you just sleep in the bed with me?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Grissom said after a moment.

They made their way upstairs where Horatio's spacious bedroom and bathroom could be found. Fishing through his drawers, Horatio frowned as Grissom sat on the bed and removed his socks.

"I don't really have anything that'll fit you..." He rumbled, standing and flicking through items of clothing on hangers.

"You promise not to get frisky with me and I can just sleep in my boxers," Grissom said sensibly.

"Fair enough," Horatio said as he turned and began unbuttoning his shirt. As Grissom stood and removed his own, he caught sight of the dark purple bruise on Horatio's chest, just below his left pec. Grissom tossed his shirt on the bed and, looking concerned, placed his hands around the bruise to stop Horatio from moving as he looked at it.

"Have you had this looked at?" Grissom said, mouth slightly agape as he looked up at Horatio.

"Yeah, I had Alexx take a look. She thinks I probably fractured a rib but...it'll heal."

Grissom's face was serious, his gaze trained on the bruise, knowing the margin of error was slim. His stomach turned over and he walked away from Horatio, towards the other side of the bed.

Horatio followed him with his eyes as he finished undressing. He had been right, not that Grissom had necessarily lost weight but that he had put on some muscle. His shoulders had broadened from it, his stomach was leaner.

Slipping under the covers, Horatio moved until he was right beside Grissom as the other man laid down. He slipped a knee between Grissom's and wrapped an arm about his shoulders, their faces as close as they had been that first night. Grissom slipped a hand up, over Horatio's chest until his palm rested in a place where he could feel the steady beat of his heart.

"Where did you learn to dance?" Horatio whispered.

"What?" Grissom asked, thrown from his worried thoughts.

"Downstairs. You showed me who was boss." Horatio tried to coax a smile out of him.

Not quite succeeding, Grissom at least sighed and relaxed his face. "My mom would take me as her date to all the of the gallery and installation openings she attended when I was young. She loves to dance."

Horatio tried in vain to picture a young Gil Grissom, leading his mother about a room full of art snobs. It didn't suit the man.

"Do you?" He whispered in characteristically rough tones.

Grissom moved his hand from Horatio's chest to his face and stroked the laugh lines that framed his mouth. "With the right person, I do very much."

'Tell him' Horatio thought to himself. He breathed in the scent of Grissom deeply, his heart beating irregularly. He wanted to tell Grissom how he felt about him but saying those words had never been easy for him.

Settling, he held Grissom tighter than he ever had and rubbed their cheeks together, relishing the feel of Grissom's beard against his stubble. He promised himself he would tell Grissom soon.