Caught by the Law
Author: Daniela
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/Grissom
Rating: PG13
Category: Romance, Angst
Series/Sequel: Breaking the Ice
Disclaimer: I donīt own them but I love them dearly.
Summary: Greg and Grissom are going out
Warnings: Slash, M/M, Spoiler for "After the Show"
Feedback: Yes, please. Itīs the icing on my cake.
Email: daniforblue@yahoo.de
Released: March 2004
"How did you find this place?"
"Mmh?"
"The restaurant. Itīs pretty far from our neighborhood, donīt you think?"
"Oh, I found it by accident, when I was driving to a Crime Scene. Looked nice on the outside."
"Ah," Greg exclaimed, unsatisfied with Gilīs answer. Not that he was complaining about Gilīs choice. It was also nice inside. They were sitting in a cozy corner; the surrounding people were almost shut out. Nobody paid attention to them.
Even so, Gil was throwing constant glances around, observing everyone suspiciously. He seemed very concerned.
It was more than concern, Greg mused. It was almost fear, fear of getting caught. Naturally, Greg was slightly nervous himself. It was their first date after all. In addition, something had happened yesterday. He felt urged to tell Gil, but he didnīt know how. Something very confusing and very important. It concerned both of them. For this reason, he was nervous himself. But his own nervousness was nothing compared to Gilīs overdrawn behavior. He was acting like...the fugitive, Dr. Richard Kimble. Oh yeah. Exactly like him. As if we were on the run, in danger to be caught any second. It bothered Greg. Honestly, it bothered him a lot.
Finally noticing his questioning frown, Gil presented him a half-smile, taking up his menu and started studying it.
Annoyed, Greg read his own menu, feeling suddenly indifferent to choose anything. When the waiter appeared, Greg still hadnīt made up his mind.
Not minding his wishes, Gil answered the waiterīs request with a clear "Yes" and ordered.
Greg picked the first thing on the menu to get rid of the busy-looking employee. Alone again, he caught Gil observing the other people again. That did it. "Whatīs wrong, Gil?" he asked directly.
"Nothing. Why?"
"Come on. I can see how uncomfortable you are being here with me."
Immediately, Gil closed up. "You are wrong. Iīm just tired and Iīm...."
"All right, forget about it," Greg pacified him. He didnīt want to start a fight and ruin the evening. After all they never went out together before. "Let us enjoy the evening and just talk about us." Not good.
Gilīs face became even colder, his lips a thin line. "What is there to talk about?" he squeezed out, having trouble to open his lips wide enough, so the words could slip through.
"For example, how did you fix your hearing problem?" Greg started boldly.
"What?" Gil asked, perplexed. "How do you know I fixed it anyway?"
"Basically, because your hearing did improve a lot. I remember one particular event, when you overheard me telling Nick, I donīt see anyone." He smiled meaningful, recalling the awkward moment at a Crime Scene on the day they had slept together for the first time.
Gil relaxed a little bit. "Well, if you have to know, I had a surgery half a year ago. It was successfully. At the moment, my hearing is just fine."
"Why didnīt you tell me?"
"We werenīt together back then."
A happy grin took possession of Gregīs entire face. "So, we are TOGETHER now?"
Taken by surprise, Gilīs eyes became big blue marbles. "You know, thatīs not what I meant, we....," he broke off.
Drumming his fingertips on the table, Greg looked unfamiliar serious. "Yes, we are....?"
Gilīs face froze visibly under his demanding tone.
"Hello together. What for a nice surprise." A friendly voice interrupted the tense situation.
Startled, both turned their attention to the owner of this voice, standing in front of their table.
Sheriff Rory Atwater, smiling perfectly delighted.
Regarding the delicate situation, Greg repressed a hysteric giggle with trouble. "Good evening, sir," he replied, sensing instinctively that politeness was the best way to save the day.
"Sheriff," Gil voiced curtly, obviously in shock by his presence.
"Isnīt it a coincidence meeting you here, Gil. Do I know your friend?"
Noticing Gilīs struggle in finding the best answer to this, Greg intervened: "Iīm Greg Sanders. Iīm working at the Crime Lab."
The sheriffīs eyes were flashing. "Oh yes. Now, I remember you. Youīre the CSI trainee, who was working that murder case with Catherine Willows."
"Right." Greg nodded, pleased. I like this man. He is obviously not the same jerk as Sheriff Mobley was.
Gil had composed himself. "Well, sometimes colleges from the lab come together to talk shop. Actually, Brown and Stokes wanted to join us, but they had to call off today. I didnīt know that this restaurant is one of your favorite spots too."
The corners of the sheriffīs mouth were twitching. "Oh, it is. The food and the service are very good. Iīm sorry to say, unlike you, Iīm here by myself. I donīt know such lovely company to spend my evenings with."
Oh, that hit the target, Greg realized gleefully. Clever man, this sheriff. You deserved this, Gil.
Gil cleared his throat and dared to offer politely: "If you like to join us....?"
Sheriff Atwater shook his head. "No, thank you. I have already eaten. Iīm on my way home. But, I appreciate the offer." The twinkle in his eyes showed that he saw right through Gil, knowing the offer wasnīt meant seriously. "Enjoy your evening. See you." With a last nod to Greg, he left.
Greg was pissed. "Do you wanna call Catherine?"
"Huh?" Gil whispered, still stunned.
"I understood this is a business meeting, not a date. So maybe Catherine wants to join us," Greg continued sugar-coated.
Gil tried to soothe him. "I had to give him some explanation. You have to understand, I couldnīt tell him the truth...."
"Why not? Are you ashamed of me? For what reason exactly? Because you are my boss or because Iīm a man. Or is it because Iīm much younger than you? Maybe it is much worse. Maybe, you are ashamed because Iīm not suitable enough for the famous Gil Grissom."
"No, of course not. Itīs only better in our situation....," Gil started to defend himself.
"You know what? Forget about it." Greg stood up. "I have learned my lesson for tonight. It wonīt work between us. Itīs better I leave."
Gil grabbed his hand. "I donīt want you to leave. Doesnīt it matter, I came here with you...."
"You think Iīm stupid? I know exactly why you chose this particular restaurant. Itīs so far from our neighborhood, you hoped nobody would see us here together." He laughed wryly. "Isnīt life a bitch?"
Blushing, Gil didnīt object. "You have to understand how difficult this is for me...."
"I understood perfectly." He shook off Gilīs hand. "Iīm very much upset. I just wanna go home."
Gil changed his strategy. "All right, I come with you and we will...."
"....have sex?" Greg interrupted angrily. "No way, Iīm sleeping with you tonight. What do you think of me?"
"Greg, please..." Gil took his hand again, but Greg tore it free. "No. Okay? No." He grabbed his coat and rushed out.
Ashamed of himself and by the curious looks of the other customers, Gil stayed put, keeping his eyes at the table. After a few deep breathes to calm himself, he was startled by the sight of the waiter, who approached him.
"Excuse me, sir, but your dinner is ready."
"Iīm sorry, but I have to leave. Please, bring me the bill." The waiter didnīt complain, but Gil caught a glimpse of amusement in his eyes. Maybe, he heard the whole conversation, Gil mused. And? Does it matter? No, it doesnīt. He paid and left for home.
After getting into his car and driving out of the parking lot, he became fully aware of his own behavior and felt absolutely miserably. Especially because Greg had been right with his accusation. He had chosen the restaurant for its offside location. Well, I paid the price for my deceit, didnīt I? First, the very entertaining conversation with sheriff Atwater. I had the feeling he got the picture pretty well. Iīm not only stupid, Iīm a bad liar too. Second, I blew it with Greg. Again. I really deserve to lose him. Stopped by many red traffic lights on his way home, he had the time to realize one thing. He didnīt want to lose Greg. He had to fix the mess, make it up to him, prove to him that he wasnīt ashamed, neither because of him, nor about their relationship. Even if it would ruin his career. The red light turned green and he drove on, his thoughts still spinning around the mess that he had created.
Finally home, he rushed to the phone, dialing Gregīs number quickly, afraid to have second thoughts and change his mind. It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four...
Someone answered. "Sanders." An unknown voice.
"G-Greg?" Gil stammered, confused.
"Sorry, Greg is in the shower right now," the stranger answered. "Can I give him..."
Gil broke off the connection. For a whole minute, he stood silently in the middle of his living room, not moving an inch. Finally, he muttered to himself: "Well, that problem is solved. Obviously, he didnīt waste any time to find himself a new lover." After making this conclusion, he went to the bathroom. While he was brushing his teeth, he regarded his face in the mirror. Look at me. Iīm old. What was I thinking? Itīs better this way. Better for Greg and for me. Nobody gets hurt. No? Why does my heart feel like it would burst any second then? Suddenly very, very tired, he scuffled to his bedroom, lying down. Shifting restlessly around, he stared into the darkness. Who was that on the phone? Whom could Greg pick up so quickly? Michael Andrews? No. I would have recognized his voice. Who then? Does it matter? Yes, it does matter. It matters to me. We had a fight and he ran to another man in no time. How could he do this to me? Doesnīt he know how much this hurts me? Gil put his face into the pillow, trying to ignore the images running through his mind. Greg, naked, with another man, young and pretty. Kissing each other, making out. Gil groaned. NO. Stop thinking about that. But the images didnīt vanish, they were burning in his head like a brand on his flesh. STOP! But finding no sleep at all, a new thought sprang to his mind, making him more desperate than before. Leaving him suffering for the whole night. Do I love Greg? Can it be? He is eccentric, loud, annoying, a chatterbox, too young... Gil sighed. Otherwise, he is smart, cute, funny, sexy, loving, soft-hearted... Gil sighed again. Maybe I do love him. But does it matter anymore? Obviously, Greg doesnīt love me and - what makes it even worse - doesnīt want me anymore.
Finally, in the morning, sun was already rising; sleep took care of him for a few merciful hours.
