Author's Note: This idea came to me whilst listening to the radio. It's probably OOC but I don't care. I think it'd be hilarious if it happened.
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or these lyrics!
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Gil Grissom stormed toward the DNA lab. He knew exactly where the music was coming from and who was playing it. It was pissing him off; The hammering beat, the guitar solo. And the fact that it was being played over and over again. It was twenty-seventh time it had been played that hour.
"Greg!" Gil barked at the geeky wild-haired lab technician, making him jump. "Turn it down!"
Break me down, you got a lovely face
Greg gloomily turned down the CD player just to have Grissom yell at him again. "Wait! Turn it back up!"
"Stop confusing me," Greg whined. He looked at his supervisor with a childlike look on his face. "Which one is it? Up or down?"
"Up." Gil felt the answer come out much harsher than intended. "Please." Greg couldn't help but smile as he turned the volume up a few notches.
We're going to your place
And now you got to freak me out
Scream so loud, getting fuckin' laid
You want me to stay, but I got to make my way
Gil raised one brow at the CD player when the profanity ripped through the speakers but didn't say anything. Greg watched, clearly interested as his boss gathered the lyrics. Little did the lab tech know that Gil's mind was running wild with the images the lyrics were emitting. He instantly thought of Heather, which surprised him in a way. He knew it was probably wrong that he thought of Heather when he heard the words, "Getting fucking laid". But when he thought of her a little while longer, it all seemed justifiable.
Hey
You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on
Greg went back to processing the piece of evidence before him, occasionally bobbing his head to the beat. Sweat began to form on Gil's forehead, images and recent experiences with Heather racing through his brain. The previous night was the first thing to come to mind. Heather had pulled him upstairs to her personal quarters; Once inside the door, she had pressed him against the wall and had bombarded him with passionate kisses. Things quickly led them to take their situaition to the bedroom.
Hey
You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on
Gil only saw one problem with the song; Heather most definetely was not a crazy bitch. She was a gorgeous, smart and sexy woman. The furthest thing from the words "crazy" and "bitch". The images kept coming and his knees began to feel weak. "This shouldn't be happening," Gil thought. "Not at work. Not in the DNA lab!"
Take it all, the paper is your game
You jump in bed with fame
Another one night paid in full, uh
You're so fine, it won't be a loss
Cashing in the rocks, just to get you face to face
That was it. He HAD to see her, it couldn't wait. "Greg, I'm um, leaving for a bit. Don't tell anyone." Greg looked confused as the older man hastily left the room. Just as soon as Grissom was gone, Catherine was there to take his place.
"Where's he going?" She jerked her thumb in the direction of where Gil had been standing just seconds earlier.
"He didn't tell me, but he told me not to tell!" Greg made a face then went back to the blood stained t-shirt on the table in front of him.
"Gil! Shouldn't you be--" Heather's question was interupted as Gil wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips pressing to hers. They stumpled backward, bodies interwined, and didn't stop until they hit the large oak table that sat in the hallway between the foyer and the parlor. Her hands snaked up his chest, around his back, her fingers into his hair. A low moan in her throat arosed Gil more.
Hey
You're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it
When I dream, I'm doing you all night
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on
"Upstairs," Heather pulled away from Gil briefly. She planted kisses along his jaw to convince.
"I suppose work could wait..." Gil picked her up, her longs legs wrapping around his waist as they ascended up the stairs.
"Mmm-hmm." Heather moaned in agreement. Gil paused briefly on the stairs, looking her right in the eye.
"You're not crazy." He smiled. "I just wanted you to know that."
Heather inquiringly raised one brow but didn't ask what he was talking about. She had other things on her mind. "...Okay. I appreciate knowing I'm not crazy."
Gil kissed her neck for a moment, then continued up the stairs. The lyrics still rang in his mind as they reached her bedroom. ...Scratches all down my back to keep me right on