Work Text:
Greg Sanders came to a skidding halt one foot outside Gil Grissom’s office. Using his chest to rub out the creases in the paper held in his hand, he glanced first to his left and then to his right. The hallway was oddly vacant despite the fact the night shift was nearly over. Unnerved by the silence he shuffled his feet while searching the hallways for a friendly face. It went without saying that he was a much happier camper when surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his co-workers, not to mention the frenzied activity that came as a result of a high-profile investigation.
Give him chaos and confusion any day; that was his motto.
Inching closer to the doorway, Greg took a moment to watch the man he’d grown to love over the past year. Gil was sitting at his desk, holding a small glass jar, his bespectacled gaze following the beetle trapped inside. The only light in the room came from a small lamp on the cluttered desk, and its muted illumination highlighted the silver in the man’s hair.
Greg smiled as his fingers twitched with the need to tangle themselves in those graying strands. “Someone needs a haircut,” he whispered while making a mental note to remind Gil it was time to visit his barber.
It wasn’t long after moving in with Gil that he’d discovered the man’s proclivity for not remembering the inconsequential details of daily living, such as getting his hair cut, buying groceries, putting out the garbage. Greg had taken to posting notes all over the entire house as gentle reminders for his lover. After several months and countless notes that, nine times out of ten, went unnoticed, he’d jokingly suggested they buy stock in the company responsible for manufacturing the yellow sticky notepads. ‘We’ll be millionaires by the end of the year, we use so many,’ he’d told Gil.
Choking back a chuckle, Greg cleared his throat and stepped across the threshold. “Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
Gil looked up and Greg instantly forgot about the past 12 hours of exhausting work. His aching back, his grit-filled eyes, his sore butt -- all of that vanished the second Gil laid eyes on him. A strange energy took hold of his body, and he practically vibrated in his shoes when he caught sight of the brief smile that curved the corner of Gil’s mouth once the man had finished his head to toe examination of Greg.
Moving further into the room, he held up the slightly crumpled sheet of paper he’d brought with him from his lab. “I finally got those results you wanted. Put four major cases on hold just so I could get these to you as soon as possible.” Tip-toeing his fingers across the edge of the desk, Greg indicated the captured beetle with a nod of his head. “Your friend there tested positive for human DNA.”
Gil took the offered document and studied it closely for several seconds before glancing over the rim of his bifocals at him. “Is this definite?”
Tired beyond belief, Greg almost snapped back a sarcastic reply but held his tongue. Instead, he sat down in the chair facing the desk and simply replied, “Yes, sir.”
Gil spared a smile for the beetle before placing the small glass jar on his desk. Without saying another word, he stood, grabbed up his jacket and left the room.
Greg sat there in the semi darkness, his gaze still focused on the space his lover had occupied. “Hello? Person here. The person who, I might add, just busted his ass getting you those results.” He waved a hand in front of his face just to make sure he wasn't invisible. Yep, he was still there.
Shaking his head, he stood up and tapped the plastic container’s lid, watching the small black beetle scurry around in a circle. “You see me, right?” Greg offered the forgotten insect an empathetic smile before exiting the office.
The moment he turned in the direction of his lab he saw Gil patting Nick on the shoulder. His mouth hit the floor when he heard his lover say, “Good job, Nick.”
The rest of the conversation was lost on Greg; he was too busy snapping his mouth shut in an effort to control the sudden burst of anger that shot through him. “What the hell? He can praise ole Nicky boy but not me?”
Rolling his head around on his shoulders, he shook his arms slightly and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet several times. “It’s cool. I can deal with this.” He walked past Gil and Nick, pausing momentarily next to his lover before stepping inside the Audio lab. The next 15 minutes were spent shooting the breeze with Archie. By the time he left, the two of them had made plans to get together for movies and pizza later that weekend.
His good nature restored, Greg walked down the hallway to his own lab. Upon entering, he discovered Sara and Gil bent over a microscope. He ignored the two CSIs and went directly to his desk, busying himself with paperwork. It wasn't even a minute later when he heard Gil chuckle slightly. Glancing over his shoulder, he found the older man smiling, a rarity to say the least, especially at work. Caught off guard by the smile, he was totally staggered when he heard him say, “Excellent work, Sara.”
Greg didn’t wait around to hear his lover offer additional words of praise. He slammed down the stack of file folders he was holding and took great satisfaction when Gil and Sara looked up, startled expressions on their faces.
“Guess I was wrong,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Guess I am invisible. Invisible and irrelevant.”
Throwing his arms in the air, he stomped out of the lab and ran smack into his second lover, Warrick Brown.
+++++++
Warrick handed off his findings to Catherine and offered the gorgeous redhead a smile of regret when she extended an invitation to join her for breakfast.
“Can I take a raincheck?” he asked. “I’ve got plans this morning.”
Warrick withheld the fact that his plans involved having his ass claimed by not one but two men. Both Greg and Grissom had agreed to his rare request and would be joining him at home as soon as their shift ended.
Wonder if Greg remembered to pick up extra lube? he thought.
Concerned that his scatterbrained lover had forgotten the one task set for him, Warrick said a swift good-bye to Catherine and, with ass twitching in anticipation, went in search of the man most precious to his heart.
He had just reached the forensics lab when his young lover came barreling out the door. “Whoa there, Greg-O. Where’s the fire?” He caught Greg by the arm, preventing him from stumbling backwards. “You okay?”
Regaining his balance, Greg took a step away and opened his lab jacket, displaying his ‘R.E.M.’ t-shirt and black jeans. “Can you see me?” he asked. “Or am I invisible?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Warrick noticed Grissom silently approaching them. He shot the man a questioning look before answering, “You’re standing right in front of me, Greg. Of course, I can see you.”
Greg hooked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the man behind him. “Well, obviously HE can’t.”
Before he could question the puzzling statement, Warrick was looking at Greg’s retreating form. The gentle touch to his arm and the wishful smile he’d received before Greg turned to leave did nothing to clear his confusion. Neither did the mumblings that drifted back to him.
“Good job, Nick,” Greg said, mimicking a very familiar voice. “Excellent work, Sara.”
Warrick stared after Greg until he disappeared from sight. He turned to ask Grissom what was wrong with their lover and found the man had walked away. Unwilling to leave things as they were, Warrick followed in Greg’s footsteps and soon discovered him, backpack in hand, heading for the back stairs.
“Greg! Wait up.”
Warrick put on a burst of speed when Greg, instead of stopping, pushed open the exit door and stepped from view. He threw himself at the slowly closing door and nearly stumbled over his lover, who had taken a seat two steps down.
“Greg? Talk to me, babe. What’s wrong?”
Warrick knew without a doubt that whatever this was it involved Grissom, and even though he loved the older man, he hated him at the same time. It pained him beyond measure to witness how Grissom's inability to express his emotions wounded Greg on a regular basis. Their young lover needed daily confirmation of their commitment to him, of his importance to them. Whether it be a caring look or even a gentle touch, Warrick knew Greg hungered for these small demonstrations of love. He, himself, had no problem giving Greg what he needed; it was in his nature. Grissom, on the other hand, was a different story all together and even with constant encouragement, seemed to forget, albeit not intentionally, the needs of their young lover. It frustrated Warrick to no end, and to be honest there were days when he just wanted to beat the crap out of Grissom. Maybe today would be the day he actually gave into the temptation.
+++++++
His dash to escape seemed to have sapped all his energy. Throwing his backpack down, he tiredly took a seat on the stairs. “All he had to do was say ‘thank you.’ That’s all. Just a simple ‘thank you’ or ‘good job, Greg’.” Lowering his head to his knees, he rocked back and forth. “Really? Is it really too much to ask for?”
He ran both hands over his face and sighed heavily. “Hell, I’m so pathetic, I would have been happy with a pat on the head.”
Greg pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, the pounding of a major headache unraveling his emotional control. A small sob escaped and he sank his teeth into his lower lip in an attempt to silent any further noise. He knew deep down that Gil appreciated his hard work, but it still ripped a major hole in his heart when everything he did went unacknowledged.
So lost in his moment of misery, he was completely caught off guard when a hand slipped through the short strands of his hair. Snapping his head up, he nearly slammed the top of his skull into Warrick’s chin, the man having bent down to check on him.
“Whoa there!” Warrick sank to his knees and brushed a finger over the wet stains on his face. “What’s wrong, G-man? Why the sad face?”
Greg reached for Warrick’s hand and gripped it tight. “I just busted my ass on a test Gil ordered. Hell, I came in early specifically for him. And when I give him the results, he just walks away.” He gazed up at his lover, seeking silent comfort for his pain.
Warrick glanced over his shoulder, obviously verifying their privacy. Lips were then pressed to his forehead and Greg welcomed the touch with a sigh.
“I take it, Grissom forgot to say thank you,” Warrick murmured.
Greg nodded his head. “I work damn hard for him and the cases he’s investigating. Would it be too much for him to show a little appreciation?” He waved at his face. “These dark circles and bags under my eyes sure aren't there because I’m out partying all hours of the night.”
Greg pulled away from Warrick and jumped up, kicking his backpack in frustration. He stomped over to the small window set in the outer wall and gazed out at the rising sun. “God, I hate him!”
“No, you don’t.” Warrick followed after him, sliding arms around his thin frame and nuzzling his neck. “Greg, you know Grissom appreciates your hard work. He wouldn't have requested you to work the graveyard shift with us if he didn't value the work you do.”
Greg turned his head and buried his face in the warmth of Warrick’s neck. “Would it kill him to say thank you every now and then?”
Warrick kissed the top of his head. “It’s not his way, G-man. Now, I’m not saying I like it because I don’t, but we both fell in love with the man that he is, not the man we want him to be. And we both know we’re not gonna change him at this late date. So it’s either accept him as he is or.…”
The sentence was left hanging.
Greg grabbed at the hand gently rubbing his chest. He knew Warrick was right but that didn’t lessen the pain he was feeling.
Turning, he hugged Warrick before touching his lips to the hollow at the base of the man’s neck. “You’re right. I don’t hate him. But really, would it kill him to say thanks once in a while?” Pulling free, he walked to where his backpack lay discarded. Gathering it up and slinging it over his shoulder, he dejectedly fingered the strap. “I’m heading out for breakfast, okay?” Offering what had to be a lame smile, he noted, “Gil’s gone to see Brass about the warrant for the Anderson case, so I’m sure he’ll be looking for you soon.”
Not waiting for a response, he jogged down the stairs and threw himself through the exit, hurtling into the light of the early morning sun and blaming the moisture in his eyes on its extreme brightness.
+++++++
Warrick watched as Greg fled down the stairs. “Damn you, Grissom.” Shaking his head, he went in search of the man responsible for their lover’s heartache.
He strode down the hallway, Greg’s sad face haunting him. Turning the corner, he found Grissom speaking to Brass and, for some reason, the simple sight of his older lover made him see red. Ignoring Brass altogether, Warrick grabbed hold of Grissom’s arm and jerked him inside the nearest office, slamming the door behind them.
Grissom looked down at the hand on his arm. “Am I correct in assuming you wish to discuss something with me?”
Warrick maintained his grip, forcing Grissom backwards until the man hit the far wall with a soft thud. Leaning forward, his face mere inches away from Grissom’s, he growled, “You are one cold bastard, but I’m a pretty secure dude and don’t need to hear words like ‘I love you’ or ‘thank you.’ I know you care about me and you value the work I do.”
Warrick loosened his grip and rested his hands on the senior CSI’s shoulders. “Unfortunately the third person in our relationship isn't that confident and needs a little encouragement every now and then.”
Grissom remained silent, watching him struggle with his words.
Warrick withdrew his touch and stepped back. “I’m sure you didn't mean it but you really hurt the G-man just now.”
Grissom’s eyebrow lifted, signaling his disbelief. “I hurt Greg? You must be confused. I just talked to him and he was fine.”
Warrick sighed and shook his head. “You are so blind. Greg is not fine. He’s killing himself for you and our cases. And you can’t even spare a few seconds to say thank you.” Turning away, Warrick tiredly asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He walked to the door and when Grissom didn't follow, glanced back at the older man. “Are you coming? If I know Greg he’s drowning his sorrows in pancakes and syrup. Come on, Gil, let’s go to the diner and see if we can fix this shit.”
The two of them exited the room and came to face to face with a cellphone-waving Brass. “Time to knock down some walls, my friends. The warrant's on its way,” the detective happily announced.
Cursing under his breath, Warrick followed the two men out of the building and into the parking lot. He was caught by surprise at the sight of Greg and Nick standing near the collection of SUVs. Their young lover was waving his hands in the air, obviously excited about the news he was sharing. Nick suddenly grinned and slapped Greg on the back as he heartily shook his hand.
Warrick heard a surprised gasp escape Grissom. He turned to glance at the man in confusion and found him staring in Greg’s direction. Returning his gaze to Greg, he understood Grissom's reaction.
Whatever Nick had said had Greg grinning from ear to ear and Warrick couldn’t help but smile himself.
“He’s truly beautiful, isn’t he?” Warrick heard Grissom ask.
“Yes, is he, and you know what? You could be witness to a lot more of those smiles if you would just remember to show him a little appreciation every now and then. It’s not that hard.”
Grissom took a step in Greg’s direction only to be stopped by a shout from Brass.
“Daylight’s burning, people. Saddle up!”
At the sound of Brass’ yell, Greg glanced in their direction, his grin immediately disappearing from his face. Again, Warrick heard Grissom gasp, this time in disappointment. He grabbed him by the arm, stopping him from following after their rapidly fleeing lover.
“Let him go, Grissom. We’ll catch up with him after we finish with Brass.”
Another shout, this one colored with impatience, had Warrick reluctantly dragging Grissom toward their vehicles. “Come on, Boss. Let’s get this over and done with.”
+++++++
Greg slumped against the corner file cabinet, hiding in the shadows of the lab’s storeroom. It was now 6:30am, another shift almost over. Correction, he thought. It was over for most of the staff. He still had another two hours of tests he needed to run for Catherine and Nick’s new case before going home.
Resting his head against the cool metal surface, he moaned quietly. It had been a hell of a shift and to make things worse he hadn’t seen Warrick or Gil in nearly 24 hours. The two men had yet to return home when he had dashed out of the house last night, leaving early enough to pick up the Neil Diamond concert tickets a friend had purchased for him at a discount. They were a surprise for Gil’s upcoming birthday.
Arriving at CSI headquarters a few minutes late, he’d been even more disappointed to discover both Warrick and Gil had left for home. His dismay tripled when he remembered it was their night off, thus guaranteeing no contact with them until he got home. “Which ain’t gonna be anytime soon,” Greg groused.
Closing his eyes, he let out another moan. “Fucking headache.”
Fingers curved around his neck and started to knead the tightly knotted muscles. He groaned with appreciation. "I don't care who you are; just keep doing what you're doing."
The talented fingers continued their magic, moving across his shoulders and upper back. It was absolute heaven and if he wasn't already taken he would have gone down on bended knee and proposed to the owner of the magic fingers. Greg took a deep breath, prepared to offer his thanks, and it was at that moment that the scent of a familiar aftershave informed him of the identity of his visitor.
“Gil?” His inquiry was met with silence as strong arms pulled his body into a gentle embrace.
“Thank you, Greg.”
Greg twisted around and faced his apologetically smiling lover. He repeated himself, “Gil?”
Gil leaned forward and captured his mouth, kissing him softly. “I’m an old dog, Greg. Old and stubborn and not always willing to learn new tricks.”
Greg pulled slightly away, his expression no doubt reflecting some of his recent pain and misery. “Is it so difficult for you to say thank you?” He lowered his head, his words faltering into a whisper. “I try so hard for you, Gil. And when you don’t even acknowledge me….” He turned his head to the side, hiding the sudden dampness that filled his eyes.
“Oh, Greg.” Gil cupped his cheek and brushed a thumb across his lower lip. “I may never say the words but I want you to know….” Gil tapped him on his chest. “Know it here in your heart that I’m fully aware of the long hours you put in working on our cases. And never doubt for one minute that I don’t appreciate everything you do for me and the members of my team. You’re a member of that team, Greg, an invaluable member. Please don’t ever think otherwise.”
A hand ran over his hair, gently pulling on the short strands. “I love you, Greg Sanders,” was whispered in his ear.
Moving in for a second kiss, Gil slipped hands inside his open shirt and traced his collar bone, his thumbs caressing the hollow at the base of his throat.
“I've spoken with Catherine. Instructed her to find another tech to run whatever tests she needs.”
Greg closed his eyes when Gil lowered his head and dipped his tongue into the small indentation his thumbs were still lightly tracing.
“You, I’m taking home,” Gil informed him. “And if you have any plans, cancel them. You belong exclusively to me for the next 24 hours.” A wry smile spread across Gil's face. “Well, to me and Warrick, that is.”
Greg followed his lover out the door. He knew this wasn't the last time they would travel down this road. As Warrick had said, Gil was Gil and he’d either have to learn to accept the man’s shortcomings or reconsider the importance of their relationship. It was up to him.
Gil had quickly pulled ahead of him and was waiting at the exit with somewhat an impatient look on his face. Upon reaching him, Greg offered an apologetic grin.
“Mind if we stop by CVS on the way home? If it’s just the three of us for the next 24 hours, there’s something we need to pick for Warrick.”
The end