Home of Greg Sanders Slash Fiction
by Amireal and Beccat
Greg woke to quiet voices in an intense conversation. He shifted in the seat carefully, stretching out his kinks, and heard several distinct pops as his back arched. He looked around the room and saw Giles, Wesley, Grissom and Catherine sitting at the dining room table.
Grissom casually disentangled himself from the conversation and came to check on him. �Good morning,� he said quietly.
��Morning.� Greg�s voice came out a whisper. �How long?�
Gris brushed the back of his knuckles across his cheek. �Not long, little more than an hour.�
�Mmmkay.� Greg closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch before taking the hand in his own. �Help me up.�
�You sure?� Gris asked, even as he was pulling.
Greg nodded. �Need food.�
"I�m sure we can manage that." Gil guided him into the dining room and got him settled in a chair. "I'll be right back." He squeezed Greg's shoulder and headed for the kitchen.
Greg sat quietly, listening to the conversation going on around him. Catherine seemed to be quizzing Giles and Wesley about Slayers and Watchers and demons, etc. There wasn't much he could contribute to that conversation, so he just sat and listened, inwardly amused at Catherine's stubbornness to find rational explanations for things that were just irrational by nature.
Gris emerged from the kitchen with two plates, each piled high with food. Pasta, from the looks of it, loaded with meat sauce and cheese and a thick slab of garlic bread. "We ate while you two were asleep," he said, setting one plate in front of Greg. "It looks like Willow's waking up, so this is for her."
"Thank you." Greg picked up his fork; his stomach growled loudly and he flushed with embarrassment. He ducked his head and started eating. It wasn't until the food was gone that he realized he'd pretty much wolfed it down, barely remembering to breathe.
�Is that why you drink so much coffee�because it�s the only way your metabolism can keep up?� Catherine asked.
Greg was never so relieved to see a teasing smile on her face. Being on the other side of her wrath was a scary, scary thing.
�He�s just replacing what he used,� Giles put in. �And he used quite a bit of it. Thank you.� The last two words were said with such sincerity that he blushed again.
Greg shrugged. �From what I hear, you would have done the same.�
�Darn tootin�� Willow called from the couch in between bites.
Greg chuckled lightly. �She�s the one you should thank, I was just along for the ride.� He leaned back in his chair enjoying his pleasantly full stomach.
�Poppycock.� Willow came over to him, handing her empty plate to Grissom on the way. �You came to that hotel room all by yourself, ready to help.� She stopped next to him. �You even claimed you were like a rusty nail with magic, which by the way is patently untrue.� She told seriously. �You�ve got some major mojo going on.�
Greg flushed. "I'm not, really. I just followed you."
"Uh huh." Willow gave him an intent look. "Are you always this self-deprecating? Cause I have a friend who's like that, and he ended up saving the world once." She wrinkled her nose. "Okay, so it was from me, but that only makes it more real, I think."
"We don't really need to go into that," Giles said hastily.
"No, we probably really don't." Willow dropped into an empty seat. "But--you could do some really amazing stuff. You just have to believe that you have the power first. Sounds really hokey, doesn't it?" She grinned.
"So anyone could do this?" Catherine asked.
Willow shook her head. "No. In order to perform magic, you have to have *some* kind of talent. What you can do depends on that, as does the amount. But after a certain point, it's a matter of will." She hid a yawn behind her hand. "Like, Andrew couldn't do much even if he believed he was Superman. But Greg could probably fly if he thought he could."
"Uh, I'll stay on the ground," Greg said hastily.
"Just a suggestion."
"And speaking of flying, we should get going," Giles inserted neatly.
�Excellent idea.� Wesley agreed.
The four of them worked quickly to pack their things. Greg had momentarily forgotten that there were larger things at stake, but as the pleasantries slid away he could see their urgency shine through.
�Greg?� Willow called across the room. �Come here for a minute?�
Curious, Greg stood and joined her. She handed him a small duffle he recognized as his own. �These are some of your things. I thought you might need them.� She winked.
Greg flushed scarlet; Willow patted him on the head.
�Is everybody set?� Giles asked.
"I think so," Willow said, surveying the room. She hugged Greg tightly and then surprised him by doing the same to Gil. "Take good care of him," she said lightly. "He's pretty special."
Gil smiled. "I will."
Giles and Wesley shook hands, Giles giving Greg an extra squeeze. "I won't forget what you did," he said quietly.
Greg flushed. "I--you would have done it too."
"Still. I won't forget."
One last round of goodbyes and they were gone, leaving Greg, Gil, and Cath in the suddenly echoing house.
Yeah. This wasn�t awkward. Not at all. Of course looking at the ceiling and whistling loudly probably wasn�t helping. But Greg was an awkward sort of guy.
�Right.� Catherine�s voice cut through the silence. �I have to get back to the lab and assure everyone that Gil Grissom signing out early and taking personal time is not the first stages in the end of the world--�
Coughing fit. Spit down the wrong pipe. Really. Greg resumed whistling.
�--you know what I mean.� Catherine glared at him.
�Don�t forget to lose some paperwork until Wesley�s law firm gets hold of the DA,� Gris added.
�Look at you Gil Grissom.� Catherine gave him a proud smile. �Practically destroying evidence.� She pinched his cheek. �Next thing you know, you�ll be dating.�
Greg moved the duffel behind his body, still attempting to look innocent and probably failing miserably.
Catherine was at the door before she turned around and called to him. �Greg, you need a ride anywhere?�
"I think it would be best if he stayed here tonight," Gil said, surprising them both. "It's been a long day and I want to keep an eye on him until we know he's all right."
Catherine raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "All right."
And with that, she was gone as well.
Greg had a sudden attack of shyness and his hands clenched on the duffel bag. "I--are you sure you want me to--I mean--"
Gil laid one gentle finger over his lips, stemming the babble. "I want you to stay here, Greg. It's been a long day and I want to make sure you're all right." The finger traced over his cheekbone, Gil's fingers skimming down the side of his throat. "And I think you know why else I want you here."
"I--" Greg swallowed. "Maybe--" He looked down at the floor. "Maybe this isn't a good idea," he mumbled.
That got him drawn into a warm hug, Gil's hands rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back. "Still think it's just the energy?" he asked softly.
"No, just..." Only he did. Sort of. He sighed and rested his forehead against Gil's shoulder, unsure what to do or say next.
Gil let him stand there for several minutes before pulling away enough to look him in the eye. "What exactly is the problem, Greg?"
Other than everything going 40 miles above the speed limit? Oh nothing at all. Greg searched for the right words to say. "This is--You are--" He clamped his mouth shut and screwed his eyes closed. He took a deep breath, held it for a five count and then gradually released it. Slowly, Greg opened his eyes to see Gil studying him with a worried
intensity.
Greg kissed him, soft lips intersecting and smoothing against each other. He kept it gentle and exploring. Their lips parted with a soft pop and their foreheads rested together. "This just doesn't seem like you." He said finally.
Gris let out a puff of air. "I'll admit that I'm an emotionally reticent man, mostly because I find it easier to not get hurt at all than risk myself." He kissed Greg lightly. "Talking about my feelings and wants and needs is... practically a foreign language. But with you... I don't *need* to say it. You can feel it."
A slow trickle of warmth and affection and lust swirled around Greg until he was cross eyed with want.
"I think...of everything that's happened today, this is the weirdest," he said, a little shakily.
Gil kissed him again, soft gentle kisses that deepened bit by bit until there was nothing else except heat and silk and the smooth glide of Gil's tongue over his own. Greg clung to him like a lifeline, dimly aware of Gil's hand in his hair and the other hand on his back,
fingers spread wide. "Weird doesn't have to mean bad," Gris whispered against his lips.
�N-no. It doesn't."
The hand in his hair tugged his head back and Greg shivered at the feel of Gil's mouth on his throat, licking and nuzzling and biting down oh-so gently over his jugular. "Much as I'd like to continue this," Gris murmured, "it's not a good time. You're still exhausted and I want the strangeness of today to settle down first."
Greg agreed. Too tired. Too new. Too soon. Too right. They needed to sleep. Preferably for a week. With one last lingering kiss Greg toddled to the bathroom, bag in tow.
He stared at himself in the mirror. Dark smudges under his eyes and hair once again, pristine white, flopping over his brow. It all worked together to make him look drawn and pale and tired. No wonder Gil had sent him off to bed.
He opened the bag the Willow had packed and found underwear, (he blushed a little at that), a pair of sweats, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a smattering of toiletries. But no gel.
Damn. Well maybe the uncoolness of his hair style would detract from its glow in the dark quality. Some days it totally sucked working with scientists.
He found a spare washcloth and scrubbed his face, glad that Willow hadn't left him to the mercies of Gil's Ivory soap. The stuff worked, but it was murder on your face. Once he'd rinsed his face clean and brushed his teeth, he felt better, and he saw in the mirror that while his hair had no color, his face did, at least. He changed into the sweatpants and padded across the hall to the bedroom, deciding he was too tired to think about anything else that night.
Gil was sitting up in bed, reading something. The sheets were loosely pulled up to his waist and he'd changed into a plain white T-shirt. "Feel better?" he asked, setting his book down.
Greg nodded. "Yeah. I just wish my hair was something other than day-glo white." He tugged at a lock ruefully.
"It makes you stand out." Gil smiled. "Not that you really needed anything else for that." He patted the bed next to him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to stand there all night?"
"Um." Greg flushed and sat down on the edge of the bed, just as a soft tendril of warmth wrapped around him, like a hug. "Oh," he said softly. "You're...getting really good at that."
"I wouldn't be able to do it if you didn't want me to," Gil said thoughtfully. "Would I?"
"Not usually. Today's been so weird that I don't know, but normally..." Greg shrugged. "I'd like to think my barriers are better than that."
Gil nodded and held out one hand in silent invitation. Greg took it and let himself be tugged across the bed, half-lying on Gris with Gris's hand playing with his hair. "I've spent way too much time today lying on you," he muttered.
�I�m not objecting.� Gris responded, chuckling lightly.
�M�not usually this passive either.� Greg muttered and the tendril of warmth scorched momentarily. His breath caught in his throat. �Sorry.�
Gris leaned in and gave him a kiss that curled his toes. �Shouldn�t be sorry,� Gil whispered against his lips before they were claimed again.
Despite the overall fatigue, Greg gave as good as he got, bracing on Gris� shoulders, using the leverage to press their chests firmly together before sliding his hands into Gris� hair.
Gris� arms encircled him, holding him in place as he ravaged Gris� mouth. The smooth slide of tongues was electric on Greg�s nerves; he fell into the deep, roving kisses that stole his breath and had Gris moaning into his mouth.
They broke apart when a yawn erupted from Greg�s mouth. He was momentarily mortified but the amused look on Gris� debauched looking face quickly squelched any embarrassment. �Right, sleep.�
Gris nodded. �Sleep.� He pecked Greg on the lips.
Greg slid off his lap and onto his side, curling around Gris. He closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.
*****
He woke up in the morning to the welcome, if unfamiliar, feeling of a warm body against his and an arm wrapped tightly around his stomach. Against his back he felt Gil breathing, slow and even.
It was really stupid, he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself from tugging out a hair to see what color it was. "Ow," he muttered, looking at the hair in the faint light through the windowshades.
It was white.
"Damn," Greg sighed under his breath. He'd really been hoping it would wear off when he slept.
"Mmm?" Gil pressed a sleepy kiss to the back of his neck. "S'wrong?"
"Nothing," Greg whispered. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"It's all right." Gil kissed him again, little, gentle kisses across his neck and his shoulders, his hand on Greg's stomach sliding up under his shirt. "How do you feel?"
He had to think about that one for a moment. He still felt hollow, still a little echo-y on the inside, but on the other hand, he was warm, relaxed, half-hard, and he could feel Gil's erection nestled up comfortably against his ass. And that wasn�t even mentioning the way Gil was petting him, soft lazy caresses that made him want to purr. "Good," he said at last, head falling back against Gil's shoulder.
"Good." Gris kissed his throat, nuzzling the spot behind his ear and the spot below his jaw that never failed to make him gasp. "Do you trust me, Greg?"
He almost laughed. After everything they'd been through yesterday, Gil still had to ask? "Yeah," he said, fighting a smile. "Of course I do."
"I needed to hear it," Gris said, tugging on Greg's earlobe with his teeth. "Because I want you to relax. And trust me."
He could do that. Really. He closed his eyes and leaned back into Gil's warmth, letting Gil peel off his T-shirt one inch at a time, like he had to touch every inch of skin as soon as it was exposed. Light fingertips brushed over his chest, his nipples, grazing his belly and making him jerk in surprise. "Ticklish, Greg?" Gil murmured.
"Ah--a little." He couldn't hide the giggle when Gil drew his nails along Greg's ribs.
"I'll remember that."
Greg knew he would, too, but he couldn't bother protesting about it. Not when Gil was undressing him, hands sliding over his legs, thumbs brushing over the crease between hip and thigh, cupping his ass. And then he was naked and stretched out against Gil's body and Gil was tracing maddeningly light circles around his cock.
"Gris--" he gasped, trying to arch into the touch.
One sharp nip to his shoulder and he gasped. "My name is Gil."
"Sorry--just--touch me, please--" Greg shuddered, his legs splaying open wider. "More, *please*--"
"What do you want, Greg? Do you want my mouth? Do you want me to take you, to stretch you open and slide into you and take you? Or do you want this?" Gil asked softly, his hand closing around Greg's cock. "Do you want my hand?"
"Anything, God, I don't care, just *do* it," Greg said breathlessly.
"So gorgeous like this," Gil murmured, jacking him slowly, his hand twisting around Greg's cock in a sure, smooth motion. "So amazing."
Greg whimpered, head falling back. "Gil..." It came out as a moan and he didn't even care.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this," Gil whispered against his ear. "How much I've wanted to have you." Energy wrapped around Greg, teased him and caressed him and made him groan.
He wasn't going to last, not with the way Gil was working him and the amazing, incredible feel of the energy swirling around them both. Gil bit his shoulder, just hard enough to mark him, and that was enough for him--he cried out, body tensing for one long moment.
Greg sagged back against Gil's body, panting for breath. He was more than a little dazed and didn't really notice as Gil shifted them, pressing Greg back into the mattress and kneeling over him. He did, however, notice when Gil leaned down to kiss him, his mouth demanding against Greg's.
"Uh uh," he said, pushing himself up on his hands. "You had your turn. Now it's mine."
Gil raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice husky.
Greg smiled. "Do you trust me?"
Gil's mouth quirked, then twisted in an attempt to hold back the smile, and then they were both laughing, even as Greg's hands landed on Gil's shoulders and gently pushed him over until he was lying back against the bed. "You," he said mock-sternly, "are still wearing clothes.�
"Going to do something about that?" Gil asked.
"Mmm. I might." Greg bent down and kissed him, pushing up his T-shirt as he did. Gil groaned into the kiss as Greg flicked his nipples, playing with them until they hardened. "Gonna taste you everywhere," he muttered against Gil's stomach, rising up just long enough to pull off the T-shirt. "Gonna find out what makes you so hot you can't stand it, what makes you come."
"You do," Gil said, a little unevenly.
Greg bit his stomach before stripping off the soft shorts Gil was wearing. He couldn't stop himself from drawing the head of Gil's cock into his mouth, sucking and licking briefly before he raised his head. Gil groaned when he did and Greg hid a laugh.
He crawled back up Gil's body, skin sliding over skin, until his thigh was pressed between Gil's legs, Gil's cock hot and hard and leaking where it was trapped between his stomach and Greg's thigh. Gil was watching him, his eyes dark with lust and need. Greg sent out a little tendril of his own and felt desire, hot and heavy, hit him right in the pit of his stomach. His body was doing its best to get hard again, even though he'd just come.
He began to move, rocking his hips against Gil's, his thigh sliding over Gil's cock, rubbing against it. Gris gasped, eyes falling half-shut, reaching up to grab his arms and pull him down into a kiss, hot and messy and perfect. Greg kept moving, thrusting against Gris's body harder, faster, moving them both back against the pillows, the mattress shaking under them until Gris arched up and came with a low, deep groan.
Greg stayed where he was, braced on his hands. Gil pulled him down into a slow, deep kiss, and he rolled off and settled next to Gil, head on his shoulder. He was half-hard again but he ignored it; that wasn't important at the moment.
They panted together, winded but sated.
�So,� Gil raised himself onto his elbows. �Shower?�
Greg laughed. �It�s an idea.�
Greg decided that he really liked Gris� shower; having a water heater completely to yourself was a gift from God. Of course Gris� shower was even better with Gris in it. Shoving him against the wall, plastered against him and stroking Greg to his second mind melting orgasm of the morning. Good thing he�d already finished washing his hair, because after that there was no way he had enough gray matter left to remember the difference between shampoo and conditioner.
They shared the foggy mirror, trading off razors and tooth paste and combs, hips brushing together and elbows touching with purposeful intent.
Greg went through the miscellaneous clothing; taking clean underwear and the jeans out he set them aside. His hands hovered over the shirt in the bag for a second before decided to leave it and grabbed the two shirts Gil had given him yesterday.
Gil stopped him just before he opened the door to leave. Greg turned and found himself swept into a crashing kiss. They surged into each other, wave upon wave breaking into small little sparks that skittered down his spine and left little pleasurable quakes in their wake.
He was released and Gil opened the door for him. He stared dumbly.
�Greg, we�re going to be late.� Gil looked innocent, if debauched.
Greg gave him a look that told him he would pay later and as he passed he let a wave of lust roll off him that would curl the toes of a dead man. He smiled when he heard Gil fumble with his keys and gasp in surprise.
*****
They got to the lab and Greg ducked into his little DNA haven, setting some music on the CD player and seeing which CSIs would be the most pissed off if he didn't get to their work *right* *away*. He'd just started running some of Cath's samples when Warrick stopped in. "Hey," he said, looking a little uneasy. "You okay?"
"Looks like I should be asking you that," Greg said as lightly as he could. "Everything okay?"
Warrick nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, it's cool. What's up with the hair?"
Greg stifled a groan. "It was a bad experience with a bottle of peroxide. Don't ask."
"Uh huh." Warrick tinkered around for a few seconds before speaking again. �Hey, did you notice Grissom shaved his beard?�
Greg suppressed a smiled. �It crossed my mind.�
Warrick was silent again, but he looked like he had a question but wasn't about to ask. Greg sighed and put down the sample he'd been cataloging.
"It was real," he said tiredly. "What you felt--I don't know what you might have seen--it was real."
Warrick passed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I kind of figured that. My grandma always used to say I had a gift. I mostly ignored her, you know? But..." He shrugged. "Is everyone okay now?"
"Yeah. I think so, at least." Greg looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you sure you're all right?"
Warrick shrugged and gave Greg a half-smile. "It's a lot to take in. I...I think I just need to think about it, you know?"
"Yeah. Believe me, I know." Greg smiled back. "If you have any questions..."
Warrick nodded. "I'll find you. Don't worry about that."
"I'm not." Greg grinned and went back to work.
He�d just finished a rather large batch of DNA collection, nothing like an orgy to liven up the lab when his next interruption burst though the door.
�You paged me Gr�what the hell happened to your hair?�
He sighed and put down the eyedropper. �Hello Sara, how are you this lovely day?�
She ignored the question and moved close peering intently at his hair.
He rolled his eyes. �How was your day off? Was it relaxing?�
Sara shrugged. "It was a day off. What happened to *you*?"
"Bad experience with a bottle of peroxide. Don't ask." He wondered how much it would cost him to get his hair re-dyed, or if the white would fade out over the next few days...and how often he was going to be giving this explanation until then.
"Uh huh. *This* is why I don�t like to take days off. I come back and Grissom�s beard is gone, Cath's looking like she just discovered who the Zodiac Killer actually was, Warrick's just looking *weird*, and Nick--well, he's always weird, so..."
Greg had to stifle a laugh. Cath actually *had* found out about the Zodiac Killer last night; he'd been some kind of demon that had gotten itself killed. He wasn't sure of all the details, though. "It was a weird day yesterday," he said instead.
�Yeah.� She nodded. �Looks like.� And then she was back on track. �You�ve got DNA analysis for me?�
Without looking, Greg rooted through several files before handing her one. �There you go. Hope it helps.�
But Sara was already walking out, grinning.
�You�re welcome.� He muttered to himself getting back to work.
Nick and Catherine were next on the list, he paged them as their results were printing and wasn�t surprised when they showed up not five minutes later.
Catherine smiled at him. �Hey, you�re looking better.�
Greg smiled back. �I am. Full night�s rest followed by stuffing my face did wonders.�
Nick peeked over his shoulder, aiming for the printout in his hand. He twisted out of the way, not wanting Nick to interfere with the presentation--and discovered that was a bad move.
�Well Greggo, looks like it was more than a good night�s sleep.� Nick was clearly staring at his neck.
Crap.
Catherine practically shoved Nick out of the way to look at Greg's neck. "Looks like someone got lucky," she drawled.
Greg shrugged. "Hey, you know how it is."
"Apparently I do," Cath said, and the look in her eyes made him wince inwardly.
He didn't want to be Gil when Cath found him later, that was for sure.
"Nick, go run these over to Brass, would you? I'll be there in a sec."
"Sure." Nick took the results and disappeared.
"Did you leave last night?" Cath asked.
Okay, forget Gil. He didn't want to be *himself* right now.
"Um, well, it wasn't--" Greg scrubbed a hand through his still-white and woefully un-gelled hair and sighed. "No, I didn't."
For a long moment, Cath just stared at him. "You--" She shook her head. "Whose idea was it?"
And now they were getting into territory where he *really* didn't want to go, so he ducked his head and just didn't say anything.
She waited for a long moment, then sighed. "All right. Fine. But you better believe I'm going to talk to him about this."
As she walked out, Greg could only think 'Better him than me'. He shook his head and got back to work.
About an hour later he knew something was wrong. The tiny spark of warm presence in the back of his mind turned icy and he got the impression that Grissom was pissed.
He closed his eyes and sent a reassuring burst before getting back to work, only to be interrupted by loud voices in the hallway.
�..none of your business!�
Fed up, Greg carefully put down what he was doing, removed his gloves and stepped out of the lab, walked resolutely down the hall, homing in on the argument and stepped directly between Catherine and Gris.
"I have an idea, how about this conversation happens somewhere else?" Greg asked Catherine. "Because, you know, there's work going on around here and I'd really rather my love life didn't become more grist for the rumor mill. Well, more than it already is."
He felt Grissom's amusement in the back of his mind. Catherine just stared at them both.
"My office?" Gris offered courteously.
Catherine stalked off down the hall. "Do I need to be there?" Greg asked, watching her storm into Grissom's office.
"No, I'll handle her." Gris smiled and Greg felt warmth wrap him up in a 'hug'. "She's just..."
"She thinks you took advantage of me," Greg said matter-of-factly. Even *with* his barriers up, that was kind of impossible to miss.
"Yes. She does." Gil didn't bother to deny it. "I'll calm her down."
"Good luck," Greg said wryly. He watched them walk down the hall with amusement before heading back to his own �office�.
*****
By the end of shift Greg had this crick in his back that was starting to ache and his energy had already been flagging for hours.
He stared at a printout, eyes unfocused, when a light, innocuous touch at the small of his back startled him.
�Working hard?� Gris smiled warmly at him.
"Is shift over yet?" He blinked blearily up at Gris.
"It's been over for half an hour. I was delayed. Are you done in here?"
Greg nodded and hid a yawn behind his hand. "I just need to leave some stuff for dayshift." He wrote a couple of notes, stuck them to various items, and got to his feet, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "I don't have my car," he realized, patting down his pockets for his keys.
"It's all right." Gris smiled. "I'll take you home."
"Okay." Greg was too tired to do anything but follow Gris out to his car. He dozed off, only waking up when they parked. "This isn't my place," he mumbled.
"I said I'd take you home, and I will." Gris took his hand, thumb smoothing over the back. "Later."
Greg blinked sleepily. "Okay."
Gil leaned in and kissed him stupid. Definitely okay.
THE END
