| A few days after arriving in the capital of California, Warrick stripped off his shirt and jeans, throwing them in a pile, vowing to get them later. 'Jet lag,' I muttered to myself and fell backwards on the bed, hearing myself chuckle. 'One part jet lag, two part horniess, one part Grissom...' I wasn't quite sure what to do while he was out racing cockroaches. I mean, who in the hell races cockroaches?! So for the last few days, I wandered the city, saw the sights, even saw the Governator give a press conference. 'And I thought Las Vegas was weird...at least we don't have an actor for a governor. Or rather a mayor, LV is a city. Shit.' Closing my eyes, I tried to think but couldn't, thoughts of Catherine and Grissom floating in my head. What a pair, eh? Thought for years that they were just good actors; strictly co-worker relationship my ass. Turns out it was. And now my co-workers both have mine. Go figure. Asking Catherine what she thought about this whole situation was a new level of embarrassment. When she finally realized what I was getting at, she just smiled and kissed me, saying, "I just wish I could be there," before walking away. I was confused. We weren't even at the 'I love you' stages of the relationship yet and she was giving me permission to-- Well, I usually didn't prefer to think about it. Groaning in frustration, I dug my fingers in my hair, sighing. I wasn't gay. I knew that much. But I also knew Grissom...pulled me? He was everything I wasn't; strength over adversity, driven... Me? I was struggling not to make a bet every time I walked pass a casino. I stood, walking over and opening the sliding glass door before laying back down on the single bed in the room. 'Maybe I'm suffering from extreme hero worship,' I reasoned, black silk boxers catching the final rays of the sun, glinting like molten lava. 'Gris was the one who let me keep my job, who got me out of the mess with the judge, taught me what it meant to be a good CSI, helped me...I'm in debt to him.' Hearing a noise outside the door, I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. Childish, I know but it seemed like my only option for right now. I needed time to think. Clutching a cage, grinning, Grissom shoved opened the door, blinking when he saw me asleep on the bed. He moved quieter, placing his exoskeleton babies on the dresser, stretching, gray shirt untucked and a pair of black slacks, both way too big. Like a mother hen, he picked up my clothes, placing them in the hamper, stopping only to look at my 'sleeping' form before shaking his head and backing up. The shirt was discarded revealing his bare chest, defined slightly, baby smooth. Shoes came off, along with socks and he began to undo the black belt that tied the pants to his waist. I swore I hadn't breathed the whole time for fear of him seeing that I was really awake, of those eyes locking on like a pair of Tomahawk missiles and declaring, "What?". I don't think I really could have given him an answer. The pants were about 3 inches too big. The gym was doing good for him although his body would always have a softness. He was older after all. After 40, bulking up seemed stupid, at least to him. So he trimmed down, a line forming in a V to lead who ever was traveling the road of his skin to happiness as the pants swung low and he let the belt hang, yawning. "Paperwork," Grissom muttered to himself and sat in the desk about 6 feet from the bed and began to open files, reading through them with determination that made his eyebrows knit together. I wasn't really sure how long I spent watching Grissom until he turned smiling, yawning. No matter how long it was though, it was never long enough. "Good nap?" he asked and I nodded, looking out the door I had opened, revealing a chunk of cityscape. Not as bright as Vegas; most of the lights would be dimmed if not turned out by 2am. "Sure," I said, waving my hand, pointing at the bugs. "How did they do?" "Four first places and one second," Grissom grinned. "Semifinals tomorrow." 'Semifinals? Not the finals?' I groaned mentally and I shut my eyes. "What day is it?" "Day six." "Damnit..." Hearing a chuckle and a rustling of papers, the older CSI closed the file he was working on, curving his spine into the back of the chair, letting his arms dangle. "I know, Warrick," he said, smirk still tinting his features. "I know. Me too. I feel you." I saw his body arched, belt hanging open like an open invitation and I bit my lip, tasting blood. Frowning, I shook my head to clear it. "But you haven't...taken care of business as usual," Warrick said softly. "If you know what I mean..." A blue eye gave me an amused glance. "Keeping tabs on the old man?" he responded, humored and I snickered. "No, I just have slept next to you every night for the last 5 nights," I answered. 'Yeah, and knew you were hard, wet dreams stalking you...' I left the last part unsaid, unsure how he'd respond. Grissom raised a shoulder, arm swinging. "I guess that would do it." "So...why don't you?" "Masturbate?" "Uh...I guess..." This was harder than I thought...almost as hard as I was getting. Staring upwards at the ceiling, Grissom let a small smile play on his lips. "The greatest pleasures come from the greatest pains. I always figured if good things come to those who wait..." he left the sentence unfinished. I snorted "The only thing that comes from waiting is blue balls," I muttered and he laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess that's what I seem to have," he said evenly. I wasn't sure if Grissom was making an overtone or not and didn't want to jeopardize it if he was reading him wrong. 'I'll just wait...' "Why do you put yourself through it? I mean, I would give you some privacy..." Next |