TITLE: The Common Wheat Grasshopper of Southwestern Kansas

AUTHOR: Julian Lee

CATEGORY: CSI/CSI:Miami crossover,

PAIRNG: Gil/Horatio

RATING: PG

ARCHIVE: Yes to all list archives; others please ask.

DISCLAIMER: It's a Bruckheimer-CBS love fest here. I don't make a cent from it.

SUMMARY: "The common wheat grasshopper of southwestern Kansas, though nearly identical exoskeletally to its grassland relatives, is primarily differentiable through its mating patterns."

NOTES: Perpetual Motion and I got into this discussion about the world's need for more drunken Gil. Drunken Horatio showed up out of ass nowhere, and Perpet asked me to write it down. So this one's all for you, darlin'. And, no, there is no such thing as the common wheat grasshopper of southwestern Kansas; thanks for noticing.

The Common Wheat Grasshopper of Southwestern Kansas
by Julian Lee

"The common wheat grasshopper of southwestern Kansas, though nearly identical exoskeletally to its grassland relatives, is primarily differentiable through its mating patterns." At a rustling at the other end of the couch, Gil paused, looking over. "Are you all right?"

Horatio's puzzled blue eyes rose to meet his. "What?"

"You were--" Gil twirled his fingers loosely. "--shifting. Are you in pain or just bored?"

"I'm not bored."

"I've been nattering about grasshopper mating habits for fifteen minutes. Any member of my team would've told me to shut up ten minutes ago."

This had not been on Gil's agenda for the night. But several of his fellow conference-attendees apparently could think of no other way to wish him luck on tomorrow's presentation than to have large bottles of liquor delivered to his hotel room. And then he had run into Horatio Caine down in the convention center, which had struck him as cause for celebration - and another mouth to help with the alcohol. So, although no one back in Las Vegas would ever believe it, Gil Grissom was drunk.

Horatio folded his hands demurely over his knee. "Your team isn't particularly respectful of you."

"My team *loves* me." He chuckled, thinking of one or two CSIs who might love him a tad too much.

"I find your discussion of grasshoppers enthralling."

Gil snorted. "You don't. No one does."

"I *do,*" Horatio protested. If it were possible, his spine was straighter and stiffer than it had been when they started drinking. He'd taken off his shoes at some point, citing possible damage to the carpeting, and his tie had gone after he'd leaned forward once and almost dunked it in his drink. But his suit jacket was still on, and his shirt was still buttoned all the way up. Gil was frankly disappointed in him. "What? Why?" Horatio sounded hurt.

Oh. Said that out loud, then. Gil shook his head. "Look at you. You're drunk, but you're still five times as uptight as most people are when they're sober."

Horatio leaned one shoulder lightly against the back of the couch. "You are not the person to lecture me about that."

"Not normally, no. But right now I'm drunk. And look at all the fun I'm having."

"I'm having fun, Gil," Horatio insisted.

"No, no. You have to--" Gil shifted down the couch. He grasped the collar of Horatio's suit jacket and tried to tug it off, but the other man either didn't understand what he was attempting or was pretending not to understand. Huffing in frustration, Gil settled for reaching over and swiftly opening the top three buttons of Horatio's shirt.

Strands of soft red hair fell in front of Horatio's eyes as he looked down to follow the motions of Gil's fingers. "What are you doing, Gil?"

"I'm loosening you up. You're a priss."

Horatio simply sat there, eyes blank and unreadable.

"Oh, for God's sake, Horatio, lighten up." With that, Gil leaned forward and fastened his lips to Horatio's.

For a split second, the other man simply froze. Gil felt the stunned tension blast against him. And then he felt the instant something in Horatio uncoiled. Just a fraction of an inch, but enough. The armor could be cracked after all. Gil pulled away, grinning.

"What did you do that for?" For all the inflection in Horatio's voice, he might just as well have been asking why Gil had put honey in his coffee or worn a red tie with a brown shirt. But Gil could see his eyes. Gil could see that may the crack in Horatio's armor was wider than he'd intended to make it.

"Because I could."

"Anything to prove your point?"

"We're scientists. We put our faith in hard evidence."

For the first time that night, Horatio laughed, a rich, genuine laugh that brought a splitting grin to Gil's face. "That we do, Gil," he said, nodding slightly. "That we do."

"I'll understand if you want to leave now," Gil offered.

Smiling widely now, Horatio shrugged out of his jacket and draped it across the top of the couch. "No way," he said, reaching for his glass. "Now I'm having fun."

END