"A Lesson To Be Learned" (1/2)
Title: “A Lesson to Be Learned” (Or How to Get Down to Brass Tacks) <1/2>
By: Kristen999
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None. Set Season 1
Pairing: Jim/Nick/Grissom
Genre:PWP/ Threesome /Some H/C
Summary: One day Jim learns to just go with his instincts.

A/N: This one just might end up in the pile of Crack!fic. This bunny would not leave me alone, but I promise it's full of fun for all three guys.

Huge Thanks to Anmani for sticking with me and for the wonderful Beta!






Jim Brass maneuvered the vehicle through the posh, suburban neighborhood.
Every lawn could have graced the cover of Garden Magazine, obviously the
home owners paid someone else for that kind of upkeep. He squinted through
his sunglasses, the sun unbelievably high in the sky, the heat beating down
on the windshield. He adjusted in his seat, feeling a bit overheated. He
still wore his overcoat, adding another layer to his dark brown suit, the
tie loosened just bit to allow ventilation

He drove through the twisty roads, the community was a labyrinth. His
passenger the grave shift supervisor was typically quiet, lost in some weird
world. Who knew what Gil Grissom thought of, when he zoned out like he did.
He knew the supervisor was ticked off about missing a key connection in the
case, but Jim was always impressed by how outwardly calm he seemed. A fire
was brewing behind those blue eyes, but only if you really knew how to read
the man.

Jim Brass knew his companion much better than the average person, having
worked alongside him for many years. He had the esteem to be part of Gil's
select inner circle, a rare privilege indeed. Tired of the hum of the engine
as his only company he gave his passenger a casual sideways glance.

"You think we'll find what you're looking for? Not that I should know or
anything. I always enjoy guessing games." He gave a wry grin.

Grissom merely raised en eyebrow in response. "Files on Martin's hard rive.
We were so consumed with finding his partner's accounts, we totally
overlooked the most obvious collaborator at the first scene."

Jim hit the brakes on the car, jostling both occupants as some smug guy
simply walked in front of them, two white bulldogs leading their owner
across the street. Jim scowled, as the aloof yahoo continued across the
street.

"Well, you were over there once. Sometimes it take looking at what's right
in front of us." Jim remarked. Everyone made mistakes, but that was
something that his friend didn't seem prone to. Pride stung.

"I sent Nick over there a little while ago. Hopefully he's all ready located
the documents."

Jim bristled, but he doubted his passenger was aware of it. "I didn't know
we were meeting, Nick. There's no officer there to secure the scene."

It was a rare sight to see the Great Wall falter. Normally he'd write it
down on his calendar when such a miracle happened when the stars aligned
just perfectly. The slight narrowing of the eyes, the dawning of
realizations as it slowly spread across Gil Grissom's face was not what he
wanted to witness.

"I didn't really think about it." Grissom replied taking a bit longer than
normal. A whole ten seconds. He reached into his pocket to grab his cell
phone, but reconsidered it. "We go back to crime scenes all the times," as
if trying to reassure himself.

Jim felt an unnatural irritation at the response. He wasn't quick to judge,
and of course Gil was very correct. But this case had been a disaster from
the get go. Too many surprises, a lot of dead bodies in the wake of being
one step behind the mastermind. His felt a twitching in his
gut's like a forewarning. Or maybe it was just the fact that Nick had been
sent alone that made him queasy.

That name brought out a weird flurry of emotions, many best to be left alone. It was hard not to feel anything but warmth inside whenever around the young man;
he just brought out the best in anyone.

"Kid's not ready to go solo on cases," he grumbled as he finally reached the
street the house was on. Jim didn't know where the hell those words came from,
but they certainly garnered a reaction next to him.

Add another hash mark to his calendar; Gil Grissom actually looked kind of
peeved, as if he resented his words.

"He's not running anything solo. I just sent him there ahead of time."
Grissom responded; the sharpness of his tone wasn't lost on the other man.

Jim didn't want to get into a pissing match, not when there wasn't really
any reason for it. Sometimes he needed to control the flare in the deep part
of his mind. Of course if he knew why a little voice in his head was
bothering him so much, then it would be an easier task.

They spotted the other CSI's truck in the driveway. The crime scene tape had
been torn off the entrance. Jim walked in front, the precautionary side of
his nature prevalent. His fingers curled around the doorknob, but frowned
when the door didn't budge.

Why would Nick lock the door behind him? Jim ignored the weight of eyes on
his back as he stepped over towards the window, hand cupping the side of his
face while he peered in. Jim froze, even though his mind screamed at him to
react.

It was like some dumb self fulfilling prophecy. Nick was concentrating his
search on one of the computer shelves, his mind obviously absorbed in
looking for something and definitely not noticing the man walking up behind
him stealthily as possible.

"Nick!" Jim screamed, as stupid as it was behind a brick wall, and thick
paned glass. Obviously the younger man nor the suspect heard him as the perp
slammed some sort of object across the back of the young man's skull. Nick's
knees buckled instantly; he grabbed at his head in pain, right before the
suspect's hand reared back with more force and whacked him again. The CSI's
body crumpled to the ground.

Jim had seen the last awful swing out of the corner of his eye, his heart
galloping like wild, his blood pressure spiking as it thundered in his ears.

His feet took him back towards the steps. He ignored Grissom's wild
expression as the man tried to get out of the way.

Jim gave the door kick, a second, then a third desperate one, as profanities
left his mouth. The door's wood splintered, but remained closed. The
detective lunged at it with his shoulder, pain ripping down his arm. The
damn thing finally gave way. He busted through, gun raised bellowing orders.

"Freeze! Police, put your weapon down!"

Jim breathed fast through his nostrils; the suspect had all the advance
warning he needed. He might as well have shouted at him to get prepared
while he busted down the door. The perp had pulled out a gun, the muzzle
pointed directly down at Nick's unmoving form.

"No. Put yours down, or I'll blow his head off."

Jim's grip tightened, weighing the option of squeezing the trigger. Any kind
of muscle reflex from the suspect could injure or kill the man he was trying
to protect.

Gil Grissom had moved next to Jim's side, the Captain gave him a seething
look. "Get the hell behind me!" he barked.

For a brief moment, Jim saw something he'd never seen in the other man's
eye. Fear, overwhelming fear.

The Captain didn't have time to contemplate that, not with their murder
suspect aiming his gun point blank at Nick.

Martin Jenkins was a middle aged man, with close cropped hair, tense green
eyes, and a steady hand. He gave both men an icy glare, and his body
remained eerily calm. He tilted his head slightly. "He's real young, your
guy here. Would be a waste to spoil the carpet with him."

Jim felt an ache in his arms from the tense way he held them, his anger
swelled despite instincts to the contrary. Grissom had not backed away, his
breathing as rapid and heavy as his own. Stand offs never ended well, and
he'd been so caught off guard, he'd never radioed for backup.

"Lower your weapon." He spoke again, his voice low and throaty.

The gunman shook his head. "Back away and leave. I've got what I came for,
maybe I didn't bash the kid's brains in too much. Might be able to salvage
something."

Jim's eyes darted towards the discarded marble statue on the floor. His lips
twitched; a sensation of rage like no other burned within his chest.
Something, he never would know, a sigh, his eyes, or maybe just the sheer
amount of emotion emanating from him must have done it.

Martin Jenkins eyes went wide, the coldness reflecting unexpected dread. The
man seemed to react, perhaps expecting a bullet and executing some sort of
revenge, his finger curled tighter, his intent to kill the CSI. Jim saw the movement,
heard Grissom's shout, and pulled the trigger hitting the suspect in the head.

The man's body simply twitched, blood spilling from a hole in his forehead
and fell backwards to the ground, without getting off a shot. Jim rushed
forward, kicking the gun away from the suspect, old habits die hard. He
checked for a pulse more out of safety for everyone in the room, than
wanting to know if the turd was alive.

Grissom knelt beside Nick, finger reaching for a pulse, a loud sigh of
relief expelling from his mouth.

Jim heard something uttered under the man's breath, a thanks to something he
knew the man didn't believe in anymore. Jim squatted, pulling out a cell
phone requesting backup and an ambulance. After giving out all the needed
information, Jim couldn't keep feeling along Nick's carotid just to
re-assure himself. He felt a slower than normal pulse, but the beating
before his finger tips was enough for him to breathe again, his head already
dizzy from the adrenaline rush.

Grissom shook Nicks shoulder in an effort to rouse him, with no response.

Jim ran his hand through the young man's silky hair in search of any
swelling, feeling a large goose egg at the back of his head. Gritting his
teeth, he just stroked his fingers through it. "You're going to be fine,
Nicky."

Jim looked up in time to see Gil Grissom give him an odd expression, his
blue eyes almost softening a bit. Jim pulled back his hand and stood up in
search for the impending ambulance. He waited by the door, casting glances
back, as Grissom looked after the injured young man.


-------------------------

It had been three days since the shooting and he had another four more off all paid for.
The investigation into the matter was proceeding rather quickly, the
incident a fairly open and shut case. Jim was not thrilled at the enforced
leave, never liked being kicked to the curb, even if under the pretense of
relaxation after an emotional event.

He found himself parked in front of Nick Stokes town home. With all the fuss
over the death of the suspect and the last minute shuffle to cover
shifts at the Lab while one of them was off duty for several more days.
Well, things had been hectic. Jim had not even had a chance to visit Nick at the
hospital. The young man had stayed over night into the morning, after suffering a bad concussion.

Jim knocked at the door, trying to calm down the insatiable need to pound
harder. After a few minutes of rocking back and fourth on his heels, it
swung open. Jim managed a stuttered hello as Nick answered in just his
boxers, hidden slightly behind the door. The modesty was almost the death of
him.

The younger man, grinned, obviously he had just stepped out of the shower.
Damn that smile knew how to knock the socks off anyone.

"Hey, Jim. Come on in." Nick offered, opening the door more.

The Captain followed Nick into his living room, as the man padded around in
his bare feet, water droplets dripping down his back. Jim felt a kind of
warm fuzzy feeling engulf him. The criminalist disappeared briefly into what
was probably his bedroom and returned with a robe. Nick sank into his sofa
and threw his head back for a moment and sprawled out. He rolled his neck
back and fourth, growling softly. God that did way too many things to his
pulse, Jim could feel his breathing increase. The kid had to stop looking so
damn relaxed, showing off his body like that and he needed to keep his
thoughts from the gutter.

Nick looked up at him with an endearing sheepish grin. "Sorry, still kind of
sore."

Jim snorted. "I bet."

Nick look chagrined, almost embarrassed. Jim shook his head, as he tried not
to stare at the smooth skin of the young man's bare chest. Several little
beads of water glistening in the daylight of the living room. He didn't know
the last time he had sported such well defined muscles. Nick had not an ounce
of fat on him, his body all lean muscle. When he had been in the Marines Jim
had a physique nearly as incredible, but his metabolism had caught up with him
years ago.

'Settle down, you old fogy.' He berated himself. Jim kept from staring by
glancing around the condo. Typical looking bachelor pad. It didn't help
that the kid was looking at him in such admiration.

"I never got a chance to tell you thanks. I mean...well for...."

Jim held up his hand, cutting him off. "Just doing my job, Nicky."

The Captain could have sworn he detected a bit of disappointment at those
words. Nick looked at his hands, as he wiggled around on the sofa. For some
reason he was acting nervous.

Jim sat next to him lost in thought. He wanted to shake the guy beside him.
Yell at him. Tell him to be more careful; threaten to handcuff him to a car
anytime he even thinks about entering a scene alone. Although the kid had
followed procedures.

He noticed that Nick began to gingerly rub around the base of his neck.

"Headache?' Jim inquired, trying to ignore the flexing of a bicep and the
veins popping out from the movement along his forearm.

It was the first time he noticed the slight tan, a sort of natural gold
complexion. Maybe a hint of Greek ancestry, might explain a lot of things.
Of course it didn't stop the way his mouth sort of dried up at the sight and
introspection. Nick was good on the eyes.

"Yeah. Been having them since I got out of the hospital. Asshole hit my neck
the first time, then clobbered my hard head," Nick chuckled trying to shrug
away the seriousness of the assault.

"They didn't give you any good pain meds, when you got out?" He asked
irritated.

Nick pressed both thumbs along the bones over his eyes. "Nah. Stuff just
knocks me out, doesn't help much."

Jim scooted closer as Nick's sentences became muffled while he massaged his
temples, his jaw sort of clenched in between words. "Maybe you should go
back to a doctor."

Nick rested his elbows on his knees, his head still bowed, the kid looked
like he was really hurting. "No, sort of found a temporary cure,
but..ah...well, its not something practical."

The detective didn't really like to see Nick suffer. He tentatively reached
around his neck and pressed his thumb into the taunt muscles. When Nick
didn't flinch but sort of leaned towards his hand, Jim relaxed a little as
he kneaded along the base of Nick's skull. The sort of soft sounds of
contentment encouraged the older man to try to loosen up the spasms there.

Nick twisted more towards the other man to allow easier reach.
Jim didn't feel particularly odd doing this. Nick obviously needed relief,
and it made him feel good to offer some sort of help. Nick's skin was warm,
fresh from his shower, the tiniest rivulets of water still dripped down from wet hair.

Nick sighed with happiness as Jim used all ten fingers now, sinking into the
flesh, applying more pressure.

"Thanks, Man." Nick mumbled happily.

Jim smiled digging his wrists in as well, titillating a sort of moan. Nick
visibly relaxed more, stretching over his knees. Jim felt a
bit apprehensive at first, treading a fine line at taking advantage of the
situation. Never in a million years did he ever imagine feeling this
rejuvenated at giving another guy a massage, and feeling the need to try
harder.

Jim sort of saddled behind Nick, who slid down to the floor and simply bent
over his knees as the Detective worked on his shoulders above him.

"I can't believe I was so fucking stupid." Nick mumbled from the floor.

Jim continued with the circular motions of his thumbs over the black
terrycloth robe, jostled out of a sort of happy zone. "You're weren't
stupid, Nick. It happened."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, well Amy Hendler pulling a gun on me sort of just
happened, too."

Jim slid his thumbs along each side of Nick's neck, causing the man to wince
slightly, but he leaned back into it.

"That was sloppy police work, Nick. The Officer left the scene to go outside
with Gil." Jim defended.

Nick shifted till he rested his cheek against the older man's knee. It was
getting tough to keep massaging when the object of the effort was leaning
along his leg. It took an act of nature to keep from acting on a sense of
primal want. Nick seemed too caught up in self flagellation to pay it any
mind.

"Yeah, well Grissom was there to save my ass then. Now, you had to." He
whispered.

Instinctively his hand rested atop of Nick's head as he brushed his fingers
through the locks of dark hair. "Stop beatin' yourself up, Nick. You're a
good criminalist."

Nick shook his head. "I get too caught up, fuckin' didn't even notice that
guy right behind me," he growled.

Jim reached down and encircled his arms around the CSI's shoulders. "I
wouldn't have let anything happen to you." He couldn't believe he let that
slip, but he meant it.

Nick reached up and wrapped his arms around the ones embracing him. Jim
nestled his chin along Nick's shoulder, his face brushing over the smoothly
shaved cheek of the younger man. He found himself rocking back and fourth
trying soothe the riled up criminalist. Nick had only been a Level 3 CSI for
a little while, heaping up too much on his plate too soon. The kid always
tried to do the good deed, help one more person. Nick wore his feelings on
his sleeve too much. His naivety was something to poke fun at, but such an
endearing and rare quality in Vegas.

To work alongside an intelligent man, whose brawn was not overshadowed by
his compassion, well he ached to see him wallow in a sea of guilt. It was
tough to keep your convictions and humanity in this business. He had left
Jersey after too many years of heartless cops and flatfeet that'd lost
themselves in the job years ago.

Jim squeezed the arms of the man before him, trying to lend the needed
warmth, to help preserve such a gentle soul. Nick turned his head,
the end of his mouth, ever so slowly kissing the corners of Jim's
lips.

Something primitive was unleashed, pent up aggression, surprise and need.
Jim bent down at a terribly awkward angle and captured a bottom lip, which
was reciprocated tenfold. He nibbled, and kissed and let out a soft noise of
surprise. It occurred to him that even as admirable Nick's qualities of a
person were, it was impossible to ignore his more physical attributes. Hell, he
figured that half the lab minimum had at least one wild fantasy involving the guy.
Lab tables optional.

He was amazed how these thoughts were running rampant as things escalated
around him. Nick moved to his knees, twisting his body around till he was
facing the older man, their lips never breaking contact. Jim grabbed fists
full of robe pulling the younger man towards his hungry mouth. He could
feel his heart pounding, his hands slick over still moist skin as they
clamored at the younger man's back, beneath terrycloth. Nick pinned him
along the sofa, practically sitting in his lap. Nick's robe slipped off his body
in the process of pouncing on him. The warmth of the young man's bare skin seeped
though his shirt.

Jim broke apart in the midst of furry, heat and instant lust. Brown eyes
widened in shock, surprise and a sudden sadness.

"Oh, God, Jim," he whispered breathless.

He felt a pang of guilt, at stopping. He wanted to reassure the other man.
The fact he had practically molested the guy made him feel just the tiniest
bit guilty. "Oh, Nicky, it's okay. I mean..I mean..I'm sorry. It's my
fault."

Nick's fingers curled around the collar of his dress shirt, unable to move.
"No....it's not that."

Jim clapped his hands along both sides of the young mans' face. Could he be
any more stunning? Dark conflicted brown eyes and a sculpted heaving chest.

God what a fucking amazing body.

"What is it Nick? I'm, sorry. I mean.." Jim stuttered.

Nick's hands covered his own, still cupping the young man's face. "No, it's
..it's Grissom. Oh my god..."

Jim felt disbelief, then anger. "Grissom? Nick, I don't understand."

"He's worried I might disapprove."

Nick broke the embrace, as he stumbled backwards. Jim stood up in shock. How
the Hell did Gil Grissom get inside Nick's place. Why the Hell was he even
there?


Tbc..