Watered Down
Summary: Why does Grissom's misadventure provide amusement for the rest of the lab? Unbound Improv Challenge - first and last lines are supplied, with 1,000 words to finish the story.
A/N: A totally meaningless bit of fluff. No spoilers. Many thanks to Ann for her beta services!
Rating: Let's go PG-13 for language.
Disclaimer: Uh, I wrote this still under the effect of medication? Oh, wrong type of disclaimer. I don't own anything at all related to CSI.

"Wetting your pants can give you that same feeling," Catherine noted.

Grissom gave her a sharp look over the top of his glasses. The gesture was partially for effect but mainly due to practical considerations. The lenses were covered in water droplets, effectively limiting their use.

"Speaking from personal experience?" he asked archly, glad his public humiliation had been limited to one witness.

In his opinion, maintenance was taking far too long to fix the water pipe leading to one of the labs. It should have been a simple and quick repair. Eventually, Grissom decided to fix it himself. He'd sent Hodges to the shutoff valve in the utility closet down the hallway, and waited more than long enough for even that harebrained tech to turn a valve. But when he'd loosened the fittings, a spray of water had escaped, hitting his glasses.

Unfortunately, most of the water had landed much further south, much to Catherine's amusement.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

"I'd rather not," Grissom replied as he stood up, using his free hand to try to discreetly adjust his cotton trousers. The water hadn't been too cold, but in the air-conditioned lab, he was very aware of his predicament. With any luck, he could make it to the locker room without any further embarrassment.

"Hey, Grissom," Sara said.

If it weren't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all.

Grissom waited nervously. Things between the two of them had yet to return to a comfortable level. He wasn't sure how she'd react to him standing there looking like a very overgrown child who needed a change, and he was sure he didn't want to find out. Her attention was focused on the open folder in her hands, but as she approached, Sara looked up.

Or started to.

Grissom's mortification grew as her eyes paused at his groin level while her eyebrows continued their upward journey. After what seemed a very long time, she darted her eyes to the wrench in his hand, and then the still dripping pipe behind him. Giving a brief shrug, she focused on his face.

"Having trouble with your plumbing?"

Grissom gave her a measured look. Her tone was entirely serious, but there seemed to be a hint of mirth in her expression. He wondered if she was laughing at him.

"You could say that," he answered.

"Isn't maintenance supposed to handle all the repairs? I didn't think the union guys liked it when someone else did their jobs."

"If they did their jobs, we wouldn't have these problems," Grissom groused.

"This isn't the first time Gil has done something like this," Catherine confided conspiratorially. "They've never caught him in the act before."

Sara raised an eyebrow again as she tracked the flow of water down the hallway. "I think they'll notice this," she said, her tone still serious as she looked back at Grissom. "Busted."

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to find a dry spot on his shirt to wipe his glasses. She hadn't laughed at him – unlike Catherine – but he couldn't shake the feeling Sara was making fun of him.

"And they won't want to clean up after you," Catherine added, smiling broadly.

"Bummer. Hope you don't have to call a plumber to fix this now. Cavallo would make you pay it. You'll get soaked."

Repressing a groan, Grissom tried to regain a professional setting. "Did you want something?"

"Need you to sign this," she said, holding the folder out to him. "Watch out for the pen. It leaks."

Grissom signed, trying to ignore Catherine's snickering as she headed to the break room. "Weren't you supposed to be Laughlin?"

"The Travis case? Not a crime," Sara said, pausing briefly. "They had an accident."

He handed the folder back to her shortly. While he was glad that Sara had found a source of amusement, his ego could only take so much bruising. To add insult to injury, at the end of each of her puns, she'd briefly drop her eyes to his waterlogged pants.

"I'm sure I can find some work for you."

"Hey, sorry," Sara replied, holding out her hands in surrender as she turned around. There was a definite grin when she turned back to him. "No need to get pissy."

She was still grinning when she made her way to the break room to grab a cup of coffee.

"Did you tell him?" Catherine asked.

"Tell him what?"

"Sara…"

"What?"

Catherine grinned wildly. "Oh, don't play innocent with me. You know what I mean."

"I'm not telling him. You tell him."

"Yeah, right. Like I don't want any vacation for a month."

"But you want me to tell him? What am I? The lab's sacrificial lamb?" Sara asked, but still clearly amused.

Warrick and Nick paused their video game. After sharing a confused look, they turned back to the verbal sparring match.

"Oh, I bet it would make Gil's day," Catherine said slyly. "That you noticed."

"Noticed what?" Sara asked innocently.

"I saw you. You noticed."

"Uh, guys," Nick started. "Are you talking about Grissom? 'Cause I think he probably noticed his pants were wet."

He and Warrick shrugged at each other when the two women began to chuckle.

"Nick," Catherine drawled out mischievously, "what makes a wet T-shirt contest so enjoyable?"

"You can see through the material when it gets wet," he said, scrunching up his face in disgust. "Oh, man, I so didn't need to know that. You two – you're, you're checking out the boss' package? That's so wrong."

Warrick started laughing.

The End