Disclaimer: I don't own the CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, its characters or all related logos and trademarks, et cetera. I own the characters I made up and most of the plot, if not all. If you find any plot parts you recognize from the CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, then those parts are not mine either. The events mentioned here that happened in a real area are not real either and any similarities in this story with real life is a coincidence.
Author's Note: Greg Sanders one-shot. Really short. Sorry for some redundancy.
Definitely Maybe
by The Last Llama
"D'you think she'd go out with me?" he asked as the GC mass specs spit out Warrick's results. I wheeled my chair to face the computer monitor, which held the results for CODIS. Printing it out, I moved to Greg's side.
"I just cleared the backlog." I announced. He had his head rested on the table and his fingers idly left on the keyboard. He was staring out of the glass walls of our work cage, in some sort of trance.
"Great," he responded, uninterested. I sighed and rested my head beside his gel spiked one.
"You were supposed to do that." I reminded him. Lately, he'd been spacing out more than usual and I was left to do the work more than usual.
"Really? Sorry." He still wasn't looking me in the eye, or really listening. I let the wistful longing wash over me like nostalgia on Sundays.
"D'you think she'd go out with me?" he asked again, staring at Sara Sidle, CSI. I sat up and examined him.
His brown, highlighted blonde, hair looked goofy. His average build wasn't impressive. His eyes, a little glazed over by the coffee high (or was that for some other reason?) were dull brown and unfocused. His jeans, sneakers, and plain green shirt under a plaid flannel button-up were wrinkled, and there was a ghost of a stain on his lap.
Would any self-respecting woman really go out with geek-boy DNA tech?
"Maybe." I replied thoughtfully. Maybe was the perfect answer. I wasn't getting his hopes up, and I wasn't bringing him down. Maybe was the perfect answer that I'd been giving him since two months ago, the first time he asked.
Sara walked away from the receptionist, but I noticed that Nick took her place.
"Do you think he'd go out with me?" It wasn't really Greg I was asking, and I wasn't expecting an answer.
"Yeah. Definitely." Greg suddenly answered. I looked at his face for traces of late night/early morning induced sarcasm, but saw none. He was just giving me a reassuring smile.
But it wasn't Nick I was talking about.