Title: Greg is Grissom's Cheap Therapy: Another Grissom/Greg Prompt Story

Prompts: 10 Random Prompts

Author: Emono

Fandom: CSI: Las Vegas

Rating: PG-16

Pairing: Grissom/Greg

Warnings: All around slash, so brace yourself

Disclaimer: CSI is way too big to even attempt to mess with; all I have is my poetic license.

Beta: gil_follower

1. Change of heart

Gil kept fidgeting nervously in his seat, raising his wine glass to his lips every few minutes like clockwork. His eyes darted down to his picked-at plate, over the heads of the other people in the restaurant, into the flickering flame of the small candle in the middle of the table, anywhere but on the face of his date.

To say Gil was his usual cool-surfaced self was a boldface lie, he couldn't have been more anxious...more desperate, even, not to screw this up. Thankfully, his date was understanding and sweet.

A hand clasped his, firm and warm.

"Gil...calm down."

"Isn't it a little strange?" Gil chewed his lower lip "To see each other outside work?"

"I don't think so" Greg replied, giving the hand in his a comforting squeeze "I think it's a relief, in a way. Here, you're not my boss. Here, you're just a guy I really like."

Gil bussed a kiss across the boy's knuckles, "You're right. It's nice to see you and not worry about looking at you a moment too long or keeping my hands to myself. And I can say whatever I like about you without Nick elbowing me in the ribs."

Gil paused for only a moment to smile wickedly, "You look beautiful tonight, Greg."

Greg flushed in the candlelight, dark eyes shining and crimson blooming along his defined cheekbones.

The tension broke, the conversation flowed, all while holding hands. Though, sadly, it wasn't long until Grissom's cell phone went off. Jade and sable eyes locked on the digital device when Gil pulled it out, it chimed again softly to the tune of Phantom of the Opera.

Greg absently stabbed his salmon with his fork, "Take it."

Gil's eyes were pleading, "Greg-"

"No, take it" Greg forced a tight smile, putting on a fa├žade of the dedicated co-worker "You're the supervisor of an entire team. It's most likely important, Gil...take the call."

Grissom bit off any smart reply, then flipped open the phone.


A woman's voice spoke lowly over the line, informing the good doctor of the services he was being called on to complete.

"Hold on" Gil pressed the phone to his shoulder "Greg, I have to-"

"I know" Greg dropped his eyes "They need their bug guy. I...I understand."

Grissom left without another word, there was nothing left to say.

2. Off-balance; off-kilter

(Continuance of Change of Heart)

"As you can see here, the alleles don't match up" Greg informed his boss, who was leaning in close over his shoulder "This isn't your guy."

"You didn't return my call" Gil's voice was a whisper "I can't apologize enough for dinner the other night."

"I told you, I understand" Greg lied quietly, refusing to look away from his computer screen.

Gil nudged the other's shoulder with his chin, "Please don't be angry, I can't stand it when you're coarse with me."

"Enough matches up to tell us something" Greg continued to explain "The donor of this blood was related to our vic, I'd put money on immediate family."

"Thanks, good work" Gil cranked out immediately, then managed a slight pout "Does this mean we're not going to go out to dinner again?"

"Oh, we're going to have dinner, just not with each other" Greg smiled secretly, enjoying the slight exclamation of the other man. Greg turned in his chair, coming face-to-face with Gil and tangling his fingers in the cloth of his lapel.


"Only joking" Greg whispered, dark eyes shining with mirth "Next time, I'm cooking for you."

The brunette turned back to his screen, satisfied.

3. Butterfly in a jar

Greg suddenly shivered, almost dropping the vial he was holding. He looked up, wide eyes gazing around the Trace lab almost frantically. The glass walls showed him a clear view all around, and they were a number of people walking by and loitering.

Someone was watching him, he was sure of it.

He scoffed, putting the vial into the machine for analysis. He hated glass walls, it always made him feel like he was working in a glass jar. Or, at the worst of times, it made him feel as if he were some strange and exotic zoo exhibit for anyone to look at.

There was a knock at the door, he looked up to see a civilian-dressed Grissom who was wearing a smile.

"Almost done, Greg?"

"A...A few more left" Greg smiled back "Then I'll be right out, alright?"

"I'll wait in the car" the older man left, hands in his pockets and humming pleasantly.

Greg ducked his head, he knew that if anyone stared too long at him, Grissom would personally see to opening his jar lid and setting him free for a bit.

4. Love's protective grasp

Greg was trailing after Grissom like a puppy down the hallway, pouting and hands clasped behind his back in a ridiculously cute way. But Grissom couldn't be seduced with the boy's cuteness if he didn't look, so he kept his head ducked down and his eyes locked on a book about forensics.

"Come on, Grissom" Greg whined, using his lover's last name in the public area "Why do you always pair me with Sara? Why can't I go out on a field case with Warrick?"

"Warrick chooses his own partners" Grissom lied outright, and the brunette knew it.

"Then...what about Nick?" Greg offered.

Grissom gave a snort at the thought, "Nick likes to tag along with Catherine."

"No he doesn't" Greg persisted "Why won't you just tell me? Why do you always send me with Sara? Or Catherine? It's always either you, or one of the girls. The guys can protect me just as well, better even."

Grissom grit his jaw, the words choking him to a point where he was ready to scream them out.

"Please" Greg begged, bringing his hands around and clasping them "Just one case out with Warrick or Nick?"

Grissom closed his book, "No."

"But..." the brunette huffed noisily "Then why do you always send me out with Sara? Just answer me and I'll leave you alone about it-"

"Because there's little chance she'll hit on you" Grissom turned, ripping off his glasses and a little bit more than angry "Ok? Are you happy now?"

Greg's brow drew in confusion, "Uh...what?"

"I don't want to give them the chance, I can't send you out without picturing one of them touching you. Even...for innocent reasons" Grissom stepped closer, smiling devilishly "If I ever got one hint that they were trying to make a move on you, I would have to bury them both alive. Neither of us really want that, I'm sure."

"Gil..." Greg couldn't help but smile, but the other was already entering his office. He followed eagerly, shutting the door behind them. "That's...that's kind of sweet."

Grissom turned and bussed his knuckles across his lover's cheek, "That's just the way I am."

Greg laced his fingers with the other over his cheek, "What a pair we make..."

"Don't you have evidence to work on?" Grissom gave him a 'look', then pulled away and sat at his desk "Go on, go work before someone thinks I'm giving you special attention."

Greg almost skipped out of the office, knowing it was too late for that.

5. Pick and Chose

Greg had been sulking all day, Grissom might even go as far as to say he was brooding over something. It seemed like he didn't speak to anyone unless he was spoken to first, and even then the answers were curt. On his lunch break, Greg did nothing but sit back in his chair and glower.

Gil frowned thoughtfully, Greg was acting much like himself when he was in deep thought on something. Truthfully, it scared him.

Later that night, at the townhouse, Greg slammed the door shut and stalked to the fridge. Grissom lingered by the door, shedding off his coat and hanging it. The younger man raided the fridge briefly, then pulled out a bottle of tea. He hopped up on the counter, sipping it thoughtfully.

"I can hear the gears in your head grinding" Grissom stood before the brunette, arms crossed over his chest "I've never seen you so morose, my boy."

Greg glanced up, "That last case, the one where that group of girls killed their friend's boyfriend..."

"Yes" Gil nodded, recalling that case "Then they pinned it on the only friend of theirs that had nothing to do with it...the girlfriend of the vic."

"It seems as if there's no friendship anymore" Greg huffed, fingering the rim of the bottle "It's as if we point at the people around us, play duck-duck-goose on their heads, then declare the winners as our closest friends. That poor girl looked right in my eyes and said, 'We've been friends for five years...I'm honestly not surprised.' I couldn't believe it, she wasn't devastated or betrayed...just scared for her life."

Gil stepped closer and put a hand on his lover's shoulder, "All young girls are like that-"

"It's not just them!" Greg snapped, eyes flaming "It's everyone! Why do we pick out the people we hate the least? What's wrong with us?"

Grissom sighed sadly, embracing the boy and letting him bury his face into his neck.

"I'm sorry" Gil spoke softly "It's the way people are."

Greg mumbled something, but only curled into his lover.

6. Angels and Demons

Sara clung to her folder, searching furiously for Grissom to give him the last remnants of the case. It had been a brutal case, something involving Lady Heather and dead kids. Horrible, really, and so very taxing on Grissom herself. Sara wanted to give him the last info herself, and maybe after some comfort. Take Grissom home for a quick drink and an even quicker-

Sara finally caught sight of her boss, tucked away in a corner waiting room. Nearly hidden there, except for the sunset light that streamed in through the window.

Grissom was spread out on the couch, intense emerald eyes locked on the ceiling and hands laced on his stomach. Harsh crimson light cut across his body, bathing him in an impish glow. He looked akin to the devil himself, solemn and omniscient. But his head was rested on Greg Sanders lap, shocking Sara.

The light turned gold on Greg, bathing his head in a light that dropped over him and shined like honey. His blondish locks caught the light brilliantly, his face calm and the very essence of serenity. Greg was caressing the older man's pepper hair, whispering words intimate enough for only them to hear.

They looked ethereal and vulnerable all at the same time, and it made the woman back off immediately.

If Grissom needed Greg after such a case, so be it.

7. Stars

If Greg hated one thing about Las Vegas, besides the obvious crime and gambling, it was the fact that you couldn't see the stars in the city. He never really had time to go cruising in the desert for a good star-gazing spot, but fortunately for him his boyfriend did.

Laying out in the back-bed of a cherry red truck, Greg was barefoot and grinning in his oldest pair of jeans. Gil was spread out beside him, looking ten years younger and worriless for once in so long. They spoke quietly of silly things, things that they would pretend to forget but treasure secretly.

Their eyes were locked on the stars above, pointing and picking out constellations. Gil kept correcting Greg ("That's not the Big Dipper, the Big Dipper is over there", "Greg, Orion's belt is on my left, why are you pointing to your right?", "That's not Leo, that's the North Star and a couple of satellites.")

But Greg didn't mind, not really...not as long as he got this time with his lover.

8. Hope

Gil peeked around the corner, watching Greg Sanders reluctantly take the baby of their vic into his arms. He made a face at Nick, but as soon as the Southerner walked away he was smiling again. Greg brought the baby close to his face, cooing like anything. He let the infant grip his finger in her tiny grasp, bouncing her a little.

Catherine looked over Grissom's shoulder, "What are you doing?"

"Look at him" Gil directed the blonde woman in front of him, showing her the scene "What do you see?"

"I see Greg...with a baby..." Catherine rose a brow "Why? What do you see?"

Gil broke a heart-warming smile, "A fresh start...hope."

9. Comfort

Grissom had been around when Nick had uttered the phrase, a sentence that had damn near broke Greg's heart. The young lab tech had gone on an intelligent ramble about the wonders of science, making grand gestures, speaking quickly, and such as he did when he got excited about something. Stella, a visiting CSI from New York, had merely given Nick a 'look' and cocked her head.

"Don't mind him" Nick had replied thoughtlessly "He's just a lab rat."

Greg's smile had dropped at that statement, and he had merely handed over the results and stayed quiet for the rest of the short visit.

Later back at Grissom's place, Greg's head in his lover's lap as Man vs. Wild flickered on the TV, Grissom remembered the phrase and winced (ok, so it had a little bit to do with Bear Grills eating the head off a tree frog on the TV.) He reached down and carded his fingers through blonde-ish, spiked locks. The younger man nearly purred, nuzzling into the touch.

"You're going to make a wonderful CSI, my boy" Gil assured him softly, his thumb tracing the soft shell of Greg's ear "Some more time, and you'll show them."

Greg bit his lip, "But what if I-"

"No 'if's" the older man cut him off "I believe in you. If anything, believe in that."

Greg nodded, smiling as he curled closer into his lover's lap, 'Eat your heart out, Stokes.'

10. Submission

Everyone had seen it.

Greg was curled in as close to his computer as possible, fingers working the keys and typing his report. Truth be told, he was scared to move. It was as if he was a child again, sent to his room by his raging father and afraid he would see him if he dared move once inside. Greg pulled his hand back from the keys, wincing as his digits stung. They were covered in a dozen or so small nicks, he had cleaned up the glass Grissom had broken when he pushed his cart into the wall.

Everyone had seen the way Grissom had yelled at him, seen the way Greg had instantly submitted to him. It made his cheeks flame at the thought, the way he had whimpered "Yes, Sir" and couldn't look away. He had never seen his lover so irate, consumed in a pure flame of anger and pure contempt for the world.

And Greg had just happened to get caught up in it.

A strong, warm hand swept over his shoulder blade, his dark eyes fluttered shut at the touch. Those sure digits curled along the curve of his shoulder, following the line of his body until a calloused palm cupped the side of his face. Greg purred, sitting up straighter when warm breath bathed his neck and ear.

"Don't hide from me" Gil's voice was low, a shade darker "I didn't mean to go off on you."

"I know you'd never act that way without reason" Greg replied honestly "A baby died..."

"There's no excuse to treat you so roughly, to demean you in public" Gil sounded apologetic, ashamed "All I knew was that tests needed to be done and I trusted only you to do them."

Greg couldn't help but smile, "Thanks."

"You're my boy..." the older man reached down with his free hand, trailing his fingers over his lover's nicked digits "I would never give you more than you could handle, I would never harm you."

Greg turned his head to face his supervisor, "I trust you."

"That's all I ask" Grissom leant in, stealing a quick kiss "I'm sorry, Greg."

The brunette leant in for another kiss, he knew how Gil Grissom could be.

The great thing was, he loved him too much to care.