A/N: I have no idea where this came from. It's not Christmas-y, and there's no real point to it at all. But my mind apparently gets these little inspiration flashes, where it comes up with scenes like this one, and I just like sharing them with you all and hearing what you think. I hope you're not tired of seeing my name in your inbox, I'm sure I'll get a spell of writer's block soon enough. But anyways, enjoy! x
The break room of the CSI department was unusually empty for being 15 minutes before the start of the graveyard shift. Usually, both Sara and Grissom were each hours early, but tonight, both of them, and Catherine, were absent. Greg was stretched out on the faux-leather sofa, flipping through a magazine absentmindedly, while Nick sipped from a steaming cup of coffee at the table. Warrick poured himself a cup, ignoring that it was the lab's usual muck and instead looking forward to the caffeine. He dropped in the seat next to Nick and rubbed his eyes.
Nick glanced up from his mug and raised his eyebrows.
"You look beat, man," he said.
"I am beat," Warrick affirmed. "Long night."
"You were off last night," Nick pointed out. "Swapped shifts with me, remember?"
"I remember."
Realization dawned over Nick as he winked at his friend.
"Oh, I get it," he said slowly. "Hot date last night, huh?"
Suddenly, Greg perked up.
"Do tell," he cut in, rising from the couch to join the CSIs at the table.
Warrick looked unsure for a moment, but after double-checking that no wandering ears were passing in the hallway, he cracked a smile.
"I was at a scene last week, routine traffic accident, nothing special, when I look over and see this girl watching me," he said. "Total hottie. I mean, this girl was a ten. So I play it smooth, pulling out all my cool toys and acting all official. I'm wrapping it up when she calls me over."
Warrick glanced at Nick and Greg, both of who were looking enraptured.
"We chat, she's definitely interested, so I give her my number and we meet for drinks last night," he continued. "Drinks and a little desert, if you know what I mean."
At this point, Greg's mouth literally dropped open.
"Let me tell you, you look at this girl and you'd have no idea what she's capable of. Blew my mind," he finished, emphasizing each of the last three words.
"Nice, man," Nick said. "You going to see her again?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," Warrick winked. "Lunch at the Bellagio."
"You know, I had a girl like that once," Nick added thoughtfully as Greg struggled to wash the awe of his face. "Back in college. She was a straight-A student, president of the class, honor society, all that jazz. I went out for her for three months, and man did she turn into a vixen at night."
"Me too," Greg cut in.
Warrick and Nick raised their eyebrows suspiciously.
"No, really," Greg insisted. "Right when I moved here. Remember Susan? Way back when, from trace?"
"Simple Susan?" Nick asked. "She was a plain Jane, man."
"Yeah," Greg countered. "Plain until you took her to bed. Then she turned into Sensual Susan."
Warrick gaped at him.
"No kidding?"
"I'm as honest as my hair is spiky," Greg said, holding his palm over his heart. "Stick a needle in my eye."
"Don't tempt me," Nick joked.
"You know, I bet half of the girls around this lab have alter-egos," Warrick continued thoughtfully. "Trade their lab coats for dresses and stilettos at the end of the day."
"Yeah?" Nick prodded. "Like who?"
"Well," Warrick started carefully. "Catherine, for example."
"Catherine?" Greg choked, his eyebrows sky-high. "She has a daughter, what would she be doing going around in stilettos?"
"You'd be surprised."
"I don't know, man," Nick added skeptically. "She doesn't know this, and if you ever tell her I told you, I'll personally hunt you down, but I heard her talking about Eddie with Grissom once, and from the hints in that conversation, I can't see Catherine as much of a dominatrix."
"Right game for the right player," Warrick responded. "Maybe she just acted differently for Eddie. You know, more submissive."
"You trying to tell us something here, Rick?" Nick flashed him an evil grin.
"No," Warrick stuttered. "No. Strictly friends."
"Uh, huh."
"Well," Greg cut in, his mind still clearly on the subject of Lab Girls Gone Wild. "What about Sara?"
"Sara?" Warrick repeated, his turn to be dubious. "I don't know. I love the girl to death, but somehow, I just don't see her as a closet vixen."
"I'm not so sure," Nick countered. "I could see Sara being a firecracker in bed."
Warrick raised a brow.
"You trying to tell us something?"
Nick laughed.
"No way," he said. "Sara's like my little sister. But, come on, we've all seen her temper flare around here when she gets all hot and bothered about something. Who says she doesn't bring that fire to the bedroom?"
"And the girl's got legs," Greg interjected, making both Nick and Warrick's glances shoot right towards him. "What? She does."
Warrick considered this for a moment.
"Point taken," he said. "Okay, I can see it. She tries to hide it, but you're right, Sara's got a body."
"And she smells good," Greg added.
Warrick broke out in a full-out grin.
"You still got a thing for Sara Sidle, little Greggo?" he teased.
"No," Greg responded a little too quickly, flushing. "That was years ago."
"Uh, huh."
"Okay, okay," Nick interjected, breaking them up. "So, say all personal relationships aside, if there was one girl from CSI – no lab rats – that you could sleep with, who would it be? No holding back."
He held up one finger, then two, and upon raising the third, both him and Greg simultaneously said Sara's name, while Warrick muttered Catherine's. Shocked looks crossed each CSI's face and debate broke out again.
"I don't have a thing with her, I'm just saying, if I were to pick someone-"
"It's not a crush, I just look up to her-"
"I said like a sister, she's not actually my sister-"
"Catherine's eyes-"
"Sara's smile-"
"But Catherine's boobs-"
"Sara's legs-"
Around the corner, out of sight of the break room, but within perfect ear shot, stood Sara and Grissom, carefully avoiding each other's eye as they listened to the heated conversation. Eventually, Sara turned and faced Grissom, her eyes bright and mischievous.
"You, uh, going to join in over there?" she asked playfully, pursing her lips.
Grissom raised an eyebrow at her.
"I don't think so," he replied simply.
Sara took a minute to study him, a small smile on her face.
"Is this weird for you?" she finally asked. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"
Grissom studied her too, her dark brown hair, slightly rumpled from the activity that had made them both late that night, the curve of her neck that he had become so well acquainted with lately, and the smell of her body wash that wafted through his senses when he stood too close, as he did now. Finally, in response to her question, he slowly raised and lowered a shoulder, glancing at the three figures at the break table.
"They can fantasize all they want," he said impishly, returning his gaze to Sara's eyes. "I have the real thing."
He gave her a roguish look before, in an act totally uncharacteristic of him, brushing his lips against her ear. She stiffened at the contact, caught unprepared. He winked at her before turning and making his way towards the break room, walking with all the confidence of a man who had just hit a home run to win the World Series. She couldn't help but shake her head a little, a smile growing on her face as she followed his steps. Her smile stretched to a grin at the bright pink patches that appeared on Nick, Greg and Warrick's faces as she entered, and had to choke back her laugh when Grissom assigned each one of them a decomp of the worst degree.
Grissom shooed them away before giving Sara her assignment, a high-profile homicide, with him.
"Doesn't bother you, huh?" Her tone was light and teasing.
Grissom smiled back at her before, for the second time that night, leaning in far too close. Sara's heartbeat increased tenfold as she felt his warm breath on her ear and they stood nearly cheek-to-cheek, Grissom's nose centimeters from her hair.
"He that is not jealous is not in love*," he whispered.
He pulled away and couldn't help but smile a little at the baffled look on her face. It was, after all, the first time he had deliberately mentioned the "L" word. He put a warm hand on the small of her back.
"After you, my dear."
The End.
*Quote from St. Augustine