DILEMMA

Grissom/Greg Sanders slash

I love Grissom/Sara, but I can't help this sometimes…

A story told from Grissom's POV

It's been quite a while since I wrote the first chapters of this story, and in the meantime, my English improved a little. A few days ago I read the story and realized a little rewriting was in order. There are no major changes, but chapters one through four will be a bit longer now.

Now I realize that I'd been going through life as if I was half asleep. I'd kept a part of my life under control for such a long time, that I almost forgot that it existed. But it does exist. And now that I know, I wish someone would tell me what to do with it.

I'd lived quietly until yesterday.

It was my night off and I was watching TV. The Trick Shot Magic semi-finals were about to start, when someone knocked on my door. I didn't immediately open up; I mean, it was 2:00 in the morning –no one had ever come to my place at 2:00 in the morning. Phone calls, I got plenty; but no personal visits.

I cautiously looked through the peephole, and was taken aback to see one of my coworkers standing there. Greg Sanders.

I opened up quickly.

"Greg?"

"Hey, Grissom." he greeted quietly.

I looked around, half-expecting to find my other colleagues standing there, but the sidewalk was empty. A taxi was leaving, and since there was no sign of Greg's car, it was safe to assume that Greg had not driven to my place. I turned my attention back to Greg, who was leaning on the doorframe, as if he couldn't stand on his own.

"Greg? What are you doing here?"

"I..." he hesitated, "I think I'm lost." he said.

I frowned when I noticed that Greg's movements were slow and tentative.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he said, taking a step into my house, "I just-" he hesitated, and then he suddenly lost his balance and stumbled into my arms. I staggered under his weight, and had to struggle to keep us both on our feet.

"Are you hurt, Greg?" I asked, alarmed.

"No," he whispered in my ear, "I'm just... confused."

His breath felt warm on my skin. It made me shiver. I froze. All my life I'd made it a point not to get close to people, and there I was, holding a coworker in my arms.

I quickly put an end to that. I propped him against the wall and held him in place with one hand, while I used the other to cup his jaw.

"Look at me," I said, tilting his face so I could examine his pupils. "Did you take anything, Greg?" I asked.

"Uh, huh" he nodded, rubbing his face against my palm "I did, I did, yes indeed," he said, giving off a scent that was rummy and fruity at the same time.

"You're drunk." I frowned.

"Yep. But just a little," he said, leaning against me again.

Holding Greg was making me uncomfortable, not to mention tired -he was thin but nicely muscled too. I didn't want him inside my place but I couldn't just leave him on his own either.

"Come on in," I said, closing the door behind us.

"Greg?" I asked as I led him to the living room, "If you were able to find my place, how come you couldn't find yours?"

"I..." he frowned, "I don't know." he mumbled evasively.

"Oh, Greg, you idiot..." I muttered, practically dropping him on the couch.

He winced.

"Your couch's as hard as a rock." He mumbled, trying to find a comfortable position

"You won't be sleeping on it, so don't worry." I retorted, "Wait here."

I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked when I went back.

"No." I said patiently. I couldn't be mad at him. He looked pitiful, huddled in a corner of my couch, obviously in discomfort.

My furniture doesn't encourage visitors.

I offered him the water.

"Are you disappointed?" He asked quietly.

"No." I said expressionlessly.

I watched him as he drank the water. Party Greg wasn't that different from Lab Greg, except for the smells that clung to him -cigarette smoke, perfume, sweat, cologne… But Lab Greg would have never come to my place like this; such uncharacteristic behavior worried me. I tentatively put a hand on his forehead.

He seemed to come alive under my touch. He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Do I feel hot?" he asked, smiling mischievously.

I didn't answer.

I kept my hand on his forehead, but I didn't look at him. That is, I tried not to. But I kept glancing back. There was so much to see –the nose, the bushy eyebrows, the mouth; even the splash of moles on his face... Funny; I felt as if was seeing him for the first time, ever.

I forced myself to focus back on Greg's health.

"Did you take anything besides alcohol?"

"Yeah." he answered as if it was self-evident "There is a multitude of substances mixed into cocktails nowadays, Grissom." he said, in full lecture mode, "The two-ingredient drinks of your generation are a thing of the past."

My generation. Ouch.

I shook my head impatiently –just as I did whenever he failed to answer a question with a simple yes or no.

"What I mean is, did you take any drugs?"

"I don't take drugs, Grissom."

"Are you sure nobody slipped you anything?" I insisted.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he replied, "Why?"

"Well, you're obviously disoriented; I mean, you came here instead of going home-"

"I didn't want to go home." He mumbled, "I was lonely."

That was the least I expected from him.

"What about your friends?"

"Everybody left," he shrugged "We were all together at the disco and then they all hooked up and left."

"Hooked up?" I frowned.

He opened his eyes wide in disbelief.

"God, Grissom, don't you know what 'hooking up' means?"

"Yes, I know what it means," I replied morosely. "I was just wondering why you didn't hook up. You don't look like a guy who would have a problem. What happened?"

"Well..." he hesitated. He looked at me for a brief moment and then at everything in the room but me.

I backed off. Evidently, this was too personal, and if he didn't want to tell me, I wouldn't insist.

He handed me the empty glass, and I took it back to the kitchen. From there I watched as he tried to find a soft spot on my couch.

"Greg? Is there any reason why you don't want to go home tonight?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"Not really," he said eventually, "It's just…" he looked at me "I thought we could talk-"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

He shook his head no but didn't say anything. His reticence was making it difficult for me to help. If he had told me he needed a place to stay because there was a leak in his bathroom, then maybe I would have let him use my guest room. But talking was out of my league, as he should have known.

"Greg, I'm gonna drive you home, all right?"

For a moment it looked like he was going to argue.

"All right?" I insisted, picking my car keys from the counter.

"Ok, Grissom," he accepted, resignedly.

I drove, uncomfortably aware that he was watching my every move. I wanted to stop and ask him what the hell he was looking at, but I just wanted him out of my hands, so I kept driving.

I couldn't just leave him in front of his building, though. He may not have been as drunk as I thought at first, but he wasn't completely sober either. I helped him up the stairs to his apartment and then I brewed him some coffee. It was just an excuse; I just wanted to make sure that everything was ok at his place. It was.

Greg was leaning against the wall, looking dejected.

"Sit down, Greg." I said solemnly.

He reluctantly sat and took the cup of coffee that I set in front of him.

"Greg," I said, "What you did tonight was very dangerous. I don't need to tell you that you should be more careful, do I?"

"I wasn't on call tonight, Grissom."

"Greg, I know you'd never come drunk to the lab." I said, "But if you drink and go wandering around-"

"I wasn't wandering," he interrupted, "I wanted to go to your place."

"Why?" I frowned.

"Well..." he gulped, "I just...I needed to see you."

We looked at each other, and suddenly, I understood why he had come to my place.

'Oh, no.' my brain protested, 'No, no, no, come on…' it pleaded, "I can deal with blood, and gore, and murders, but not with this!'

I pretended not to understand, but that only encouraged Greg to continue.

"I couldn't hook up tonight because all I could think of was you." He said, and then he looked up expectantly.

Well, I didn't know what he expected from me, but whatever it was, he was going to be disappointed. People had had crushes on me over the years, only to find that I had nothing to offer. I always walked away.

But walking away was not an option this time -Greg was my coworker.

I needed to be careful.

I wished –not for the first time- that I could find a book on how to handle this kind of situation. There were books on how to find romance filling entire sections at the library, but no one had ever written a book on how to avoid romance without hurting others.

There's a thought that has stuck with me ever since: Not every answer is in a book.

Greg was still talking.

"I was thinking that you were probably home alone," he said, "And then I started wondering-"

"Greg -"

"-whether we could talk." He looked down. "There are lots of things I'd like to say, but the main thing is-" he paused, "I think I'm attracted to you."

Oh, no.

"It'll pass," I blurted out.

Greg didn't look up. He merely nodded, and by the fleeting look of disappointment on his face, it was clear that he understood what my words meant -that I just wasn't interested.

"It'll pass" I repeated, more gently this time, "You'll see"

He scoffed softly.

"Well," he said, "I hope you're right, because it's hard, you know."

He took a big gulp of his coffee and grimaced, just as if he'd gulped down whiskey. He looked a little sad, and I knew I had to thread carefully. In my experience, crushes don't last long, but rejections hurt. I didn't want to hurt him.

I wished I could find something to say –something funny, preferably. I wished I could slap him on the back and say, 'Greg, if you're attracted to me, then you're not only drunk but also blind!' Or say something realistic like, 'You're young enough to be my son,' or something dismissive like, 'Just fall for someone else-'

But I know that kids with crushes never listen.

"Greg," I said after a moment, "Maybe you should go to bed-"

"Yeah," he said, but he didn't move.

I tentatively touched his shoulder. "Go." I said gently.

Greg rose from his seat and took a step towards the hallway.

And then he stopped.

"Grissom." he said, "If you felt something for me, would you tell me?" he looked at me, "Or would you keep it to yourself?"

I should have said that yes, I would tell him; it would have placated him and given me a chance to end the conversation right then and there. But I couldn't give him an answer –I didn't even know what the answer was. I rarely examined my own feelings.

I tried to imagine what having feelings for Greg could be like. Greg -a guy who had a knack for exasperating the hell out of me, but who also elicited my admiration and respect. I tried to imagine-

Unfortunately, my imagination tends to be quite vivid sometimes, and all of a sudden, I knew what it would be like. I closed my eyes for a brief, sweet moment... and when I opened them, I realized he'd been watching me.

He was smiling faintly, as if he knew what was in my mind.

He took a couple of steps closer and put a hand on my chest to steady himself. I froze again. A part of me wanted to get out of there, but a stronger part wanted me to stay and experience whatever it was that Greg wanted to do.

Curiosity won.

Greg hugged me. I couldn't hug him back –I couldn't move, actually- but I reveled in the feel of his arms around me.

"This feels good, doesn't it?" he muttered in my ear. He pulled back to look at me. There was an expression of quiet confidence on his face now; he most have known I was not going to reject him, not even as he leant closer.

I kept my eyes open while he pressed his mouth against mine. He kissed me, gently and thoroughly, letting me taste the exotic crap he had drunk. He explored my mouth until we were both breathless, and then he pulled back to look at me.

He seemed to be pleased by what he had done. Pleased and smug.

"That was nice," I said, recovering my voice. I tried to sound as if being kissed by a coworker was something that happened to me every day; no big deal, at all.

I don't believe I fooled him.

He kept his gaze on me, and little by little he grew serious. Serious and thoughtful. And then, just when I thought he was going to kiss me again, he released me.

"Grissom," he said huskily "I think I'm going to be sick." he smiled sheepishly. "I'd rather you didn't see me like that, all right?"

He was dismissing me. I didn't expect that. It was like waking up from some dream.

"Are you going to be all right?" I asked, since I was honestly concerned about him.

"I'll be fine." He nodded quietly, "I just need to sleep it off."

I took a couple of steps towards the door, but I didn't hurry. I would never admit this to him –I can barely admit it to myself- but at that moment, I was hoping he'd change his mind.

"Hey," he called out just as I was reaching the door. "We'll do this again." He said firmly "It'll be better when I'm sober." Then he turned and walked into the darkened hallway.

In a daze, I drove back home.

TBC