Title: Queen Bee
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Characters: Greg Sanders? (to be revealed)
Prompt: #19. Crazy
Word Count: 602
Rating: PG-13 for some curse words
Summary: Because he, Greg Sanders, was insane. There was just no debate on the topic.
All he could do was stare. After all, he'd have to be positively crazy to have feelings for her. Actually, the insanity comes after he acts on them. Which he won't. Because, really? It'd be mad to even acknowledge any attraction for that... woman! If he could even call her that. She was like their Queen. They all adored her and loved her and WANTED her and he'd be damned to be just another of the pack. So why, he asked himself, was he walking towards her right now?
Why?
Because he, Greg Sanders, was insane. There was just no debate on the topic. If there was ever something the entire lab wanted to agree in whole-heartedly, it was that he was clinically insane. But hey, that was their problem. THEY hired HIM. Insane or not.
And now he was about to prove their theory. For as all knows, a theory doesn't mean a thing until one proves it. Of course, he'd given signs of it several times over before. But this? This was definitely the last straw. This would just change it from being a theory to plain old fact.
He approached her, as she sat there, looking all regal and stuff. She probably had no idea just what type of air surrounded her throughout the day. And all she was doing was just... Sitting in the break room, reading a magazine and relaxing before getting results. And for a moment there, all he wanted to do was watch her. But really, wouldn't that be a tad strange? Not that he could speak.
And so no matter the nerves he felt at the very moment, he greeted her with his usual attitude. He tried to act normal, but could one really hide anything from a CSI? He felt as though the entire conversation was being watched at from all sides of the room and damn these rooms for all being made out of glass. Who was the genius that thought that up? Those people were criticizing each and every word out of his mouth and yelling at him, like one yells at the television, to say something different and be smoother, or slicker, or whatever they called it these days.
So, when he finally dropped the bomb of Will you have dinner with me? or rather, he stumbled, Breakfast considering it'll have to be off shift of course. Unless you know, we work late on a case. But breakfast would be our next meal. And so forth and so on. He hadn't really expected her to smile back at him and accept. After all, she was the Queen and untouchable by anyone. Maybe she hadn't gotten that memo? He didn't care. She accepted and all he could do was gape at her in awe.
She laughed at him, as she was prone to do and teased him to shut his mouth, otherwise flies would fly in and lord knows she didn't want that to be there. After all, what would be the appeal of that later in the day? Flies didn't taste so well, as far as she knew. Of course, she knew that would shut him up. Her and her flirtatious manners. Greg didn't know what to do with himself, except to, of course, shut his mouth. She winked on her way out the door and as all men did, he stared at her departing back.
He supposed they'd be calling him crazy and insane and out of his damn mind. But for her, the Queen bee, THE Catherine Willows, he supposed he could stand to be a little insane.