So today I was just sitting in my mom's room on my laptop and we were watching Spider Man, right? Well I jsut got SO bored because it was one of those nights when you just can't focus on what you're watching so I started writing this! (Also, it has nothing to do with Spider Man, lmfao XD )

I don't own CSI, sadly. x(

Greg stood leaning on the break room door with his jacket slung over his shoulder. "My shift's over," he announced. "Anyone need a ride?"

Greg's partner-in-crime, Nick Stokes, raised his hand. "My truck's in the shop and I took a taxi to work, so if you don't mind."

"I do too," Henry stated. "I rode with Hodges just for the hell of it, and that was something I can easily say I won't be doing again."

The three guys laughed together, but suddenly stopped at a sudden famale voice. "You guys shouldn't make fun of Hodges," came from Mandy's mouth, who was sitting in the corner of the room at a desk with her laptop. "You never know what he can overhear."

Henry scoffed. "You wouldn't tell him anything. That would just be ruining our fun."

"Yeah," Greg added, "and it's not like you haven't ever said anything behind anyone's back in the lab." He raised an eyebrow at her, causing her to bust out laughing. "That's what I thought. Now, shall we?" Greg asked jokingly, pointing his thumb toward the door.

Nick, Greg and Henry walked in a group down the steep flight of stairs and out the front doors of the lab, taking in breaths of fresh Las Vegas air. You'd be surprised how stuffy it could get in a building full of dead bodies and severed limbs.

Once they all filed into Greg's midnight black Denali, Nick got shotgun and Henry in the back, they hit the road. "Greg, put on some music. It's so quiet in here."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Greg pushed a button on the radio controls and I Put a Spell on You by Marilyn Manson started playing throughout the truck; loud.

"Dude!" Henry exclaimed. No one even looked up. That's how loud Greg plays his music. Henry leaned forward and turned the voluma down at least 100 notches. "What are you, deaf?"

"WHAT? PLEASE SPEAK UP, I CAN'T HEAR YOU." Greg yelled obnoxiously with a smirk.

Henry rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat, trying not to smile. Greg is really funny when he wants to be. He crossed his arms and picked at a piece of dirt under his nail. God only knows what that is. . .

"Greg, where are we going?"

"I don't know. You guys never told me where you live," he cracked.

"Oh come on, Greggo, you know my address by heart," Nick retorted. "Why don't you just drop me off first?"

"Neh." He shrugged. "I'm hungry. Who's up for Luigi's?"

Nick rolled his eyes at his spontaneous best friend, and they saw Henry practically drooling in the back seat. With a chuckle, Greg pulled into a spot in the parking lot.

They sat at the bar, and a waitress with the name tag "Rebecca" came up to them.

"G'day, mates!" Oh, an Australian, Greg thought. Nice. "What'd ya like?"

The guys exchanged glances for a few seconds until Nick said, "We'll share a pie. Pepperoni?"

The other boys nodded in agreement, and Rebecca wrote it down on a mini notepad. "Anything to drink?"

"Diet Pepsi."

"Coke, please?"

"I'll have an iced tea."

Okay! I'll be right back with your drinks, and the pie will be out soon." Rebecca scurried off through the doors labeled kitchen.

Once the three men finished the entire pizza pie and paid for their meal, they headed outside. It had been a good ending to a good day, until Greg hit the unlock button on his Denali and there was no sound of locks turning.

"Um, Greggo..."

"Where's your truck?!"