A/N: Weekly Improv fic. As always, the first and last lines are given, but the rest is up to me.
Spoilers: Butterflied
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Certainly not CSI, ChiPs, or Candid Camera (Wow, this fic is really out of control ;-) )
A Day in the Life of Jim Brass"No, Grissom, I am not going to let you shave my legs," Sara replied.
"Just once?" Grissom begged.
Giving her supervisor a mischievous grin, Sara hopped up onto the blackjack table and sat at the very edge. Grissom, paintbrush in hand, moved to stand between her knees. As she slowly rolled up her pant legs, Ponch and Jon rolled up on their motorcycles. Jim Brass adjusted his Mickey Mouse ears hat so that the word "Jimmy" was legible from the rear and attempted to intercept the ChiPs before they could interrupt the Geek mating ritual. He'd waited four years for these idiots to do their thing, and he wasn't about to let anyone ruin it.
Grissom began gently tickling Sara's leg with a feather. How's he going to shave it with that? Brass wondered. And what happened to the paintbrush? Ugh, I really shouldn't be watching this. As he turned away to give the Geeks some privacy, he was surprised to find a microphone in his face.
"Smile!" Allen Funt exclaimed gleefully. "You're on Candid Camera."
Jim Brass awoke with a start. Strangest dream I've ever had, he thought with a shake of his head. He staggered to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. Clearly, something needed to be done. It was bad enough that they occupied his thoughts during his waking hours; he didn't need them invading his dreams as well. He took a long swig of water and leaned against the counter, contemplating the problem.
It would have been impossible not to notice the degree to which Gil was disturbed by the case involving Sara's doppelganger. And when Grissom confronted that demented doctor, Brass would have had to be blind to not see that Grissom was speaking from the heart. The CSI had spoken in the past tense regarding his feelings for Sara, but why would the case bother him so deeply if he no longer carried a torch for her? No, Brass reasoned, Gil's attraction to the younger woman was definitely not past tense.
The water temperature adjusted, Brass stepped into the shower. He lathered up what hair he had, still lost in thought. Sara's emotional attachment to her supervisor was obvious. Only a skywriter could spell it out more clearly, yet Grissom remained obtuse. He seemed to recognize that she had feelings for him, but he underestimated the depth of those feelings. The problem was that while Sara was tolerant, she wasn't a masochist. One day soon, Gil would push her away and, instead of bouncing back to him as she always had, she would simply continue to move away from him. "And you were lost," Grissom told the doctor. If Sara left, Grissom would indeed be lost.
So what was there to do? Short of knocking their heads together until they came to their senses, Brass could think of nothing. He toweled himself dry and dressed for work. One thing was certain: He had to do something. He would not see kinky Geeks in his dreams again. The resultant mental image sent a shudder coursing through him.
The drive to work was difficult, as always. Every day he told himself he would find a new route that bypassed the construction zones, and every day he reminded himself that the area was growing so quickly that there was no route around all of the construction zones. He checked in, got his assignment and headed for the scene of his new case. As he surveyed the crime scene, he noticed the black Denali arrive and park beside his vehicle.
Sara jumped out of the passenger seat and strode toward him in her lanky gait. Grissom pocketed the keys and followed. It was interesting to Brass to note that since Grissom's awkward confession to Dr. Lurie, he had been assigning Sara to work with him frequently. They seemed to work smoothly together, but they were both still terribly unhappy.
They worked side by side in perfect symmetry, but spoke little. If they would just talk to each other they could solve any problem, Brass knew. Before long, the job was done and the evidence was loaded into the Denali. Preparing to depart, Grissom fished the keys out of his pocket. Brass quickly snatched them from his hand.
"Jim?" Grissom extended his hand.
"I don't think so," Brass said, shaking his head.
Sara, standing next to her boss, cocked an eyebrow. She was curious as to the nature of this new game. "We need to get back to the lab."
"Not yet you don't."
"What's this about, Jim?" Grissom asked, his irritation growing by the moment.
"You two need to talk."
"We've been talking all night," Grissom replied. Apprehension settled over his features as he realized what Brass meant. "Stay out of it."
"Nope." Brass slid the keys deep into his own pocket. "You can go when I've said my piece."
Grissom set his jaw and moved a few paces away, coming to a stop leaning on the bumper. Sara simply stared at the police detective.
"Here it is, Gil. It's real simple." He pointed to Sara. "You pay attention, too. You're not blameless here."
Sara moved to lean on the rear bumper while Grissom leaned on the front. Brass continued. "You love her. You know it. I know it. Hell, she knows it. And she loves you. What could be more simple? It's what's supposed to happen. The trouble it, for whatever reason, you just won't tell each other. For the love of God, you two need to talk to each other." Neither Sara nor Grissom spoke.
With a sigh, Brass placed the keys on the hood of the Denali. "Okay, I said what I had to say. Think about it."
He got into his car and drove away from the scene of the crime. The last time he saw the CSIs in the rearview mirror, they were exactly as he'd left them—standing at opposite ends of the truck.
Morning came, and with it arrived the day shift. Jim Brass exited the lab via a back door, more than ready to drive home and get into bed. Even if he lived to be one hundred, he doubted he would ever understand the necessity of 90% of his time-consuming paperwork As he crossed the parking lot, he spotted Grissom and Sara standing next to Grissom's car. Obviously paying attention only to one another. Grissom furtively glanced around the area, then leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Brass, feeling quite pleased with himself, quickly looked the other way.
Slipping under the covers, he fell asleep easily. He would not dream of Geeks in love. Almost immediately, the vision began. The case files danced like well-choreographed showgirls. The pens were lined up as if on parade…