Chapter Text
He’s coming here.
Now, at this very moment.
Gil is coming. Coming to be with me.
Me.
Not Warrick. Not Nick. Not Sara. Not Catherine.
Me.
I stare out my bedroom window at the moon and the vista of stars surrounding it and I still cannot believe that Gil is flying through the exact same heaven on his way to me. He’s left his home, taken time off from work, bid good-bye to the warmth of his bed just so that he can be by my side during my time of need.
Me.
The young one, the lover he doesn’t quite understand.
I realize I’m a tad bit weird—a little too enthusiastic, too quirky for most people. I’m not even sure if Gil would have given me a second look if I hadn’t already been involved in a relationship with Warrick when the two of them started seeing each other. In fact, I sometimes thought Gil tolerated me being a part of our threesome simply because of Warrick. He loved Warrick, Warrick loved me and, therefore, it was only logical that I be welcomed into their bed.
But now—now I’m thinking maybe I was wrong. Maybe Gil does love me for me.
In the three years we’ve been together, I can count on one hand how many times he’s missed work. And I know for a fact, he’s hasn’t left the state of Nevada since Warrick and I moved in with him six months ago, not even for a convention. So that has to mean something, right? For Gil to come all this way, all the way to California just so he can offer his support—hold my hand while we wait to find out if my mother has breast cancer. And so what if I kinda hinted that I needed him? He’s still coming. My family is his family—that’s what he said. I wonder if he knows how much it meant for me to hear him say those words.
Even though Gil’s not one to share his feelings or speak the words most lovers find easy to say to one another, he has on several occasions said, ‘I love you.’ He may say it after the fact, after I’ve said it to him but he does let me know, in his own way, that he cares for me.
And, it’s certainly no secret that I care for him. Love him like I’ve loved nobody else. Not even Warrick. I’ve never told anyone that but, as much as I cherish Warrick’s love and friendship, Gil’s the one for me. He calms this turmoil I feel inside, keeps me centered. For some reason, I don’t feel the need to show off for Gil, pretend I’m something I’m not—he tolerates the real me, even when I’m at my zaniest. And I really appreciate the fact that it’s cool with him if I’m a little off the graph of normality.
What I appreciate even more is the way Gil makes love to me. Even if I’m wrong about how he feels, he can still melt the flesh right off my bones every time he slides his dick deep inside my body and rides my ass until all I can see, smell and taste is him. It’s almost like an addiction for me. I crave his touch, no matter how intimate or how innocent. It can be as simple as him touching my hand, like he sometimes does at work when he’s distracted by a case and forgets he’s not supposed to display any outward sign that would indicate we’re together. Or it can be so damn hot, like him standing behind me in the shower, stroking me, making me cum while Warrick watches
And on those nights when it’s just the two of us and Gil gives me the look—the one where he tilts his head to the side, lifts that one eyebrow and the barest of smiles curves his mouth—all I can think about is how fast I can strip my clothes off and get into his arms. I don’t care if I never top Gil, just being underneath him, with his arms and legs wrapped me, his lips tasting every inch of my skin, his dick knocking on my back door—well, that’s more than enough for me.
In fact, that’s why I’m sitting here in the dark, staring out my window. I’m waiting, waiting for him.
For Gil Grissom. For the man I love.
The man who’s gonna to give me the courage to face tomorrow.
Hurry, Gil. I need you.
+++++++
A frustrated sigh greeted the announcement of yet another delay in landing due to bad weather. The sigh was repeated, this time louder, the sound accompanied by the incessant noise of tapping, the impatient tapping of a photo against the armrest.
“Good looking boy, you got there. Is he your son?”
Grissom turned and stared at the heavy-set business man sitting beside him, noticing him for the first time since the plane’s take off from Vegas. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Is that your son? I bet he drives the girls crazy.”
Grissom shifted his gaze to the photo he held in his hand and a tender look shadowed his eyes. “No. He’s not my son.” The graying CSI brushed his thumb over the image of Greg’s smiling face. “And yes, he does drive those around him crazy. Crazy in ways you just wouldn’t understand.”
“A real heartbreaker, I take it?”
Tucking the photo inside his shirt pocket, Gil looked out the window and down at the dark clouds blocking his view of the ground. “You have no idea.”
The end