One Step at a Time

A/N: Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews on the last chapter! Your support means everything! Love, D

Chapter 17


Gil pulled up in front of Jack’s house, but the musician made no move to step out of the truck. After a few minutes, he could feel the older man’s eyes on him, not pushing him, exactly, but questioning.

It wasn’t reluctance that was keeping Jack there--well, it wasn’t just reluctance. His stomach was burning from all the good food he’d eaten, and the glass of wine he’d managed to sneak while Nick wasn’t looking was definitely not sitting well. He probably should have obeyed those warnings about not mixing his meds with alcohol, but it had been so nice spending a normal morning with people who didn’t treat him like he was as fragile as a Faberge egg, he’d allowed himself to forget there was a reason people were treating him like he was made of glass.

He was just going to have to put up a brave face until Greg and Warrick left for work. Not that he’d see them. Hopefully, they were both fast asleep by now and he’d be dead to the world by the time they woke up.

“You okay?” Gil asked and Jack forced a smile.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” And woozy. And nauseous.

“We probably shouldn’t have kept you out so long.”

“I regret nothing about these past few hours. They’re all I’ll have to keep me from going insane until Nick and I can manage to get through to them. But thank you so letting me tag along. I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad you were there,” Gil said, his face softening, which Jack had learned was almost as good as a smile. “I’ve been curious as to how you managed to get two of my CSIs wrapped around your little finger. Now I think I understand.”

“Why, Gil,” Jack said, flashing him his most flirtatious grin, “are you coming on to me?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Gil answered with all seriousness, and Jack laughed.

“You’re a sweetheart,” he said and leaned over to kiss Gil on the cheek. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Jack,” Gil said as the young man opened the door. “Is everything all right?”

He paused with one foot out the door and decided there was no harm in being honest with Gil. All teasing aside, he let his mask of pleasantries fall and looked at Gil with serious eyes, showing him the pain and the aching and the weariness that permeated his body. “No,” he answered softly, “but there’s still a chance it will be.”

Gil nodded, and Jack slid out of the truck. Taking a deep breath, he slowly made his way up the sidewalk, turning to give Gil a quick wave as he reached the front door. Gil lifted his fingers from the steering wheel in return and drove off. Jack opened the front door as softly as he could and slipped inside the blissfully air-conditioned house, pausing to rest against the arm of the sofa. He’d broken into a sweat between the truck and the house, and he didn’t think it was entirely from the heat.

Shit. He hadn’t felt this bad since the week before when he was waiting for the antibiotics to kick in. The infection had better not be returning. If anything else went wrong, Warrick and Greg would have his hide and they’d never leave him alone again. He knew it was his own fault for overdoing it at Nick’s, but he’d been having such a good time, it had been too easy to put everything else out of his mind. He’d laughed so much at some of their stories, he’d had stars swimming in front of his eyes from trying to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed that hard, or made other people laugh in return. Of course, he hadn’t actually been involved in a conversation long enough with his lovers to make them laugh--both conversation and laughter had become things of the past.

Sighing, Jack was about to stand when a hand wrapped around his wrist. He gasped and looked down to find Warrick stretched out on the sofa where he’d apparently fallen asleep, probably waiting for him to get home.

“Hey tiger,” Jack said with a weak smile, wishing he felt well enough to enjoy the sight of the beautiful man dressed only in the boxers he’d fallen asleep in.

“Hey yourself,” Rick said, his thumb lightly caressing the inside of his wrist and sending chills through Jack’s body.

Christ, he thought, his breath catching in his throat. It had been too damn long since the last time Warrick had touched him like that. It had been too damn long since either of them had touched him like that. Beyond feeling his forehead for a fever or offering him a hand when he seemed to be struggling, they didn’t touch him at all anymore.

“You okay?” Rick asked.

Jack nodded, finding he was having trouble summoning his voice.

“Have a good time?”

“Y-yeah.” Oh, what he would give to have Warrick’s thumb rubbing his wrist for the rest of the day. They wouldn’t even have to do anything else--he wouldn’t have minded doing other things, but at that moment, he just wanted to be touched.

“You look tired,” Warrick said. “You should probably take a nap.”

And the touch was gone. Jack sighed, looking away so Warrick wouldn’t see the tears the disappointment had brought to his eyes. Without saying another word, Jack stood up and made his way to the bedroom. Shutting the door, he locked it and collapsed on the bed. He knew both Greg and Warrick would be able to pick the lock with ease, but he hoped they would take the hint and leave him alone. If they couldn’t even bear to touch him, then he didn’t want to be anywhere near them.


Greg looked up blearily as the mattress was jostled by Warrick’s return.

“Jack make it home?” he asked through a yawn.

Warrick nodded, gathering Greg in his arms.

“He have fun?”

“So he said.”

“Who was he out with?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What’d he do?”

“I don’t know.”

Greg’s eyes narrowed. “Is there anything you did learn?”

“He’s home, he’s in bed, and I think he locked the door.”

“Did you say something to upset him?”

Warrick snorted. “These days I think my breathing upsets him.”

Greg sighed, nuzzling the taller man’s neck. “Not more than mine does. Jack bristles like a porcupine every time we go near him. Rick, what’s happening? He either ignores us, or he’s always mad at us. It isn’t right. It isn’t Jack.”

“I know,” he said, kissing the top of Greg’s head. “Things are rough right now, but when he’s better, we’ll sit him down and have a chat and get everything sorted out between us.”

“And how much longer do we have to wait until he’s better? I mean, think about it--he’s up, he mobile, he’s going out. What are we waiting for?”

Warrick’s voice hardened, his arms tensing around his lover. “I’m not gonna lose him, Greg. If I do anything to hurt him, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

“You’ll never do anything to hurt him. All three of us know that.”

“But I need to be sure.”

“Rick--”

“Forget it, Greg!” he snapped. “It’s not going to happen!”

Resisting the urge to snap back, Greg pushed Warrick away from him and scrambled out of the bed, grabbing his pillow along the way.

“Greg--” Rick started, but was stopped by the slamming of a door.

Grumbling under his breath, Greg started for the living room, then paused. Why should he be regulated to the sofa when there was a nice huge bed in Jack’s room with more than enough space for the two of them? Since he and Jack were both mad at the man, it made more sense to join forces than to have all three of them at odds with each other.

Going to the kitchen, he picked a steak knife out of the silverware drawer and returned to Jack’s door. The lock had nothing to do with security so much as a request for privacy, and jiggling it with the steak knife was enough to get it to click. Smiling smugly to himself, Greg quietly opened the door and peered inside. Jack’s back was turned to him, but he could tell by the unnatural stiffness to his body that Jack was still awake.

Entering the room, he closed the door and walked over to the bed. “Jack. . .” he whispered.

“We both know I’m awake, Greg. Why are you whispering?”

He opened his mouth to answer and then realized he didn’t know why. “Okay,” he continued in a normal voice, “I’ll stop whispering. Want some company?”

Jack rolled over to look at him, and the expression in his brown eyes nearly broke Greg’s heart. He’d never wanted his lover to look at him with that combination of suspicion and mistrust, and all of it underlined with a sort of terrified hope--as if he didn’t dare believe that Greg might want to be with him.

Good lord, what had they done? Greg thought with despair. There was more damage reflected in that beautiful face than could have ever been caused by a bullet.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Greg said, wanting to move to him, but afraid he would be rejected as he so deserved. “Please, can I stay here with you?”

Jack looked at him, then gave a short uncertain nod. Greg practically threw himself in the bed, immediately taking the musician in his arms. He nearly sobbed with relief to feel Jack returning his embrace--maybe they hadn’t alienated him entirely after all.

Turning to his lover, Greg took Jack’s face between his hands.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, caressing the soft skin, the elegant cheeks, running his thumbs over the plush lips. His body thrilled with a sudden wave of desire and it was all he could do to keep from moaning as all the blood rushed down between his legs. “Jack. . .” But the delectable lips moved out of his reach.

“Greg, I. . . I can’t,” he said, taking Greg’s hands in his owns and kissing the palms before holding them to his heart. “I mean, I want to--you have no idea how much I want to--but right now is. . . it’s just not a good time.”

Of course. It had been too long, they shouldn’t rush things, and Greg really needed to be sure that Jack was well enough to be doing anything before they started.

Not to mention, they were missing a rather important third party, and as unhappy as he was with Warrick at the moment, it wouldn’t feel right not to have him there.

“That’s okay,” Greg smiled, leaning over to touch those wonderful lips with his own, unable to resist at least kissing him--surely a little kiss wouldn’t hurt? “I’m exhausted and would probably be snoring before we even got started. But. . . do you think it would be all right if I held you?”

“Absolutely,” he answered with a brilliant smile that warmed Greg’s soul, causing him to lose all self-control. He held the slender body close to him and kissed him thoroughly. They might not have been able to do more, but he was going to make sure that his mouth was filled with the taste of the musician before settling down to sleep. When they finally pulled away to catch his breath, Greg smiled. “You know how much I’ve missed the taste of you.”

“I think I do,” Jack said, running his fingertips over Greg’s eyebrows and cheeks and nose and chin, as if memorizing the feel of his lover’s face. “I was beginning to think you’d never come back to me.”

“I’m never leaving you,” Greg said, leaning in to steal another kiss. “I may act like a complete imbecile at times, but never doubt that I always want to be with you.”

Jack kissed him again and it was all Greg could do to keep his libido from taking over. With one last gentle kiss, he snuggled up against his musician, his face buried in the crook of Jack’s neck so he could fall asleep breathing in his lover’s scent.

“I love you,” Greg said, holding Jack as tight as he dared.

“I know. I know you do,” Jack said, and Greg fell asleep accompanied by Jack’s soft caresses.

He tried not to let it bother him that Jack hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back.


Greg started at the sound of the alarm clock, then groaned and let his head drop back onto his pillow. He’d had far too little sleep to be awake now, but these days, he couldn’t help feeling a bit more exhausted every day. The whole Jack thing was really taking a toll, he thought to himself as he reached to turn off the alarm and found his movements severely hindered.

Jack. Jack! He’d fallen asleep with Jack!

Greg’s eyes widened as he looked down at the man wrapped around him. He was going to have one helluva time untangling himself from those long limbs, and the thought made him extraordinarily happy. Reaching up, he ran his hand through the thick brown curls, wondering how he’d managed to live without the feel of silk sliding across his fingers. Beautiful, wonderful, perfect, adorable, precious, loving Jack.

Who he was going to have to abandon in order to go to work.

Damnit. He didn’t want to leave. What if this never happened again? What if this was the last night ever that he would wake up with Jack wrapped around him? But of course this wasn’t the last night, because Jack loved him. He hoped.

“Jack,” Greg whispered, trying to pry away the limber arms. Jack didn’t stir. “Jack!”

Slowly, carefully, he began to extract himself. One arm, followed by a leg o, then a torso, a head, and. . . Greg moaned. Was that. . . against his thigh. . . ? Oh fuck, it was. Jack was hard, which made Greg’s morning erection swell even further. Why? Why did fate do this to him? How could the gods be so cruel?

Quickly squirming out of the bed, Greg turned to look down at his still sleeping lover. Jack sighed and rolled over, and Greg pulled a blanket over the broad shoulders that looked far too bony in the evening light. He’d lost too much weight over the past couple of months--they were going to have to work on filling out that lovely golden flesh again. All those bones didn’t look right on him.

And how the hell could Jack still be sleeping? Oh, duh. He’d forgotten that nothing short of a series of natural disasters could wake Jack from a deep slumber, and the realization saddened him.

He’d forgotten. He’d been living in the same house with Jack but still had forgotten one of the most basic facts about him. This had to stop, this forced separation for Jack’s own good, because truth was, it certainly wasn’t doing him any good, and Greg was willing to bet Jack wasn’t exactly thrilled with the situation either.

Greg leaned down to softly kiss the slightly parted lips and with one last look, snuck out of the room.

At least, he’d hoped to sneak out of the room. Instead, he ran bodily into Warrick.

Shit.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Warrick said darkly and continued to the kitchen.

Greg sighed. Fuck. Well, he’d just have to sort things out with Warrick later. Right now, he needed to get ready for work.

It was a pity he didn’t have the awesome power of prescience, or Greg would have called in sick that day and stayed home wrapped up in Jack. Instead, Greg went to work, sharing an ulcer-inducing ride with Warrick, and found himself an hour later sitting in Grissom’s office wondering why no one had warned him the world was going to end.


[Chapter completed August 17, 2005]