Flying Home
Author/pseudonym: Angelise
Fandom: CSI
Posted to List:
Pairing: Gil/Greg/Warrick
Rating: PG
Status: New, Complete
Archive: Yes
Feedback: More than welcome! And much appreciated!
E-mail address for feedback: angelise7@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: None
Other websites: Angelise's
Heavenly Bodies
http://writingonthewall.slashcity.net/~angelise7/index.html
Disclaimers: CSI and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS Broadcasting Company. No infringement is
intended. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and the author
makes no profit.
Author's Notes: None
Summary: Returning from a convention, Gil is reminded
of those he is flying home to.
Warnings: None
Flying Home
By Angelise
Copyright January 2002
God, I’m tired. Bone weary tired.
I can’t believe I allowed myself to be coerced into
going to this workshop. Catherine assured me it was well worth my time and the
department’s money. She was right, of course, and my team will benefit greatly
from what I have learned. Unfortunately, they will have to wait until I have
secured a good night’s sleep. My brain does not appreciate being forced to
impart knowledge when it’s in the fatigue mode.
The plane is on its final approach and I fasten my
seatbelt. Leaning back, I close my eyes and concentrate on the sounds of
descent, a soothing exercise for my overloaded mind. I’m almost to the point of
dozing off when a finger taps my hand. I open my eyes and find the elderly lady
sitting next to me pointing at the book in my lap.
"May I?" she asks.
The book, a nonfiction work by my favorite author,
Clive Cussler, is a gift from my lovers, Greg and
Warrick. I pass the hardback book over to the inquisitive woman.
She enthuses over it but I am distracted from her
comments by the child across the aisle and the teddy bear he has tossed several
rows forward. When I turn back to my seatmate, I find her gazing at a photo.
Startled, I stare at it myself, having never seen it
before. One of my lovers must have tucked it inside as a surprise. And a
surprise it certainly is, not only to me but also to the gray haired
grandmother who has suddenly forgotten how to close her mouth.
I feel the heat in my face and realize that I am
blushing—something I rarely do. The photograph is a picture of the three of us
in bed, my two lovers sprawled across my body. The
image captured is very revealing, not pornographically speaking. Although… I
lean over to examine the photo and yes… if you look closely, you can see the
tip of Greg’s penis peeking out from under the sheet.
Warrick must have used the remote timer on his camera
and taken the picture once I had fallen asleep. He is our resident
photographer, dedicated to capturing our love on film. And that’s what is so
revealing… our love. You can see it in the way we hold each other, even in our
sleep.
I’m always amazed that somehow, amongst the tangled
arms and legs, we manage to touch each other intimately. And
not always with our hands. Many a morning I have awakened
and found my mouth buried in the softness of Greg’s hair or my lips nuzzling
the area behind one of Warrick’s ears. And
more often than not, I’m being gifted with the same, whether by one or both of
my men.
The picture and book are gently returned to my
outstretched hand. I maintain my speechless state as the woman brushes her
fingers over the photograph. "Very handsome men, those two are. Are you
returning home to them?"
I nod my head, my eyes still focused on the sleeping
faces of my lovers.
"I imagine you’ve missed them very much."
I find my voice and whisper, "More than I thought
possible." Leaning my head back, I once again close my eyes.
I have been a loner the majority of my life, a very
private person. And to think I would welcome not one but two men into my heart
is truthfully astonishing. I have no close friends; have never felt the need to
surround myself with people. It is so much easier to deal with life when it is
only your thoughts and emotions rambling around in your mind.
And why both of these men, diametrically opposite in
every way, would chose to share their love and lives with me, is still
something I have difficulty comprehending. I am not the easiest man to work
with, much less live with. You won’t find my name on the list of the top ten
eligible bachelors in the
But, love me they do, Greg and Warrick. Unconditionally. And thankful I am for their love. More than
either one of them will ever know.
I steal another glance at the photo. God, I miss them.
My thumb traces the outline of Greg’s face. I have to
admit I miss him the most. He was the first to blindside me with his love and it
is was his generous heart that brought
I’m sure he was mumbling in his sleep when the picture
was taken. He does it quite often, his nightly dialogue of incoherent chatter
and I find it is something I have missed greatly on this trip.
I sigh softly. There are so many things about my
lovers that I miss. Greg’s mumbling. Warrick stealing the
bacon off my plate at breakfast. Greg peering over my shoulder as I work
on my crossword puzzle, his slightly off center brain offering the most
improbable answers.
Warrick walking naked through our home, dragging his
wet bath towel behind him, unconcerned that the windows are wide open and all
of Vegas has a view of his ass. And of course the
times when both men are crowding me on the couch, wrestling for the best
snuggle spot, which ends up being somewhere on my body.
That’s what I miss. The little
things.
A muscle in my neck protests and I am reminded of the
sleepless nights I have suffered through on this trip. It seems I now can’t
rest without my men beside me. It’s hard enough when one of them is missing
because of work or such. But on this trip, when faced with an empty bed, my
mind rebelled, absolutely refusing to slip into a restful slumber.
My thoughts are placed on hold; the plane has landed
and my seatmate needs help removing her bag from the overhead storage bin. I
smile apologetically and offer my assistance. Minutes later, I’m making way off
the plane, the elderly woman at my side.
I step into
"Your boys are even more handsome in person. And
it seems they’ve missed you as much as you’ve missed them. That youngun is nearly bursting at the seams to kiss you."
I know my eyebrows have crept up my forehead and
possibly my jaw has gone south. To find acceptance of my
lifestyle in one whose generation abhorred homosexuals, is startling, to say
the least.
The woman obviously is a mind reader. She smiles and
pats my arm. "I’m no stick in the mud, Sonny. Not when it comes to
love." She smiles as Greg bounds to a stop in front of us. "The heart
doesn’t pay attention to something as trivial as gender. It loves without
prejudice."
Warrick steps forward and eases my tote bag from my
shoulder, his fingers detouring slightly to stroke down my neck. The woman
notes the subtle caress and smiles again.
By this time, Greg’s enthusiasm can contain itself no
longer. He throws his arms around me and hugs my breath away. He whispers his
plans for the day and, once more, my face feels the heat of a blush.
"I bet he’s a wicked boy." An arthritic
finger shakes itself at Greg.
My hand passes furtively over my younger lover’s ass
before I untangle his arms from around my neck. Turning my attention to my gray
haired companion, I nod in agreement. "You have no idea."
Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the
woman’s family. They surround her completely, whisking her away, joy and
laughter following in their wake.
Warrick throws my tote to Greg and chuckles as he
fumbles with its weight. "I guess you’ll start eating your Wheaties now?"
Greg sticks his tongue out. Securing the bag’s strap
on his shoulder, he turns and leads the way out of the airport. Warrick walks
beside me, his long fingers brushing against mine.
I’m normally not one for emotional displays,
especially in public. Greg ignores this or, should I say, he’s unable to bridle
his eagerness.
Warrick is more attentive to my wishes and
demonstrates his love with veiled touches. I sometimes wish I was more comfortable
in expressing my love openly but I’m not. And my lovers, although they may not
understand, they do accept this failing of mine.
I allow my hand to briefly grip Warrick’s.
He tilts his head to the side and glances at me, acknowledging the significance
of the gesture. "Glad to be back?"
Nodding my head, I watch Greg weave in and out of the
crowd, my gaze focused on his spiked hair. "Did he deliberately fix his
hair like that or did he just forget to brush it?"
Warrick slings an arm around my shoulder and laughs.
Pulling the paperback from my jacket, I wave it
beneath Warrick’s nose. "Remind me to speak to
you and Greg about the enlightening gift you left for me in this book."
Warrick grins, his smile a sure indication of his
guilt. Squeezing me tight, he whispers, "Welcome home,
Grissom."
The end