TITLE: Attack of the Fly
AUTHORS: Jellybeanchichi and MSCSIFANGSR
RATING: K+
DISCLAIMER: We were supposed to make a boatload of money for writing this story, however we haven't gotten our checks from Jerry Bruckheimer yet.
SUMMARY: The crew has breakfast at Frank's Diner circa Season 6. GSR
A/N: We combined our forces to write this silly story to answer the third challenge at YTDAWonFB. Challenge to include: putrid, cheese, apple pie, artichoke, and the phase "it's magically delicious." We blew that last 1,000-word limit, but it was two writers so we took 1,000 words apiece and we still went over.
T/O/A/N: (The other author note): There was a word limit? Oops. My fault.

The gang sat at their usual circular booth, with Sara Sidle at one end and Greg Sanders on the opposite opening. As the waitress set down each investigator's ordered meal, Sonny Bono's singular style of crooning could be heard as the opening lines of "I've Got You, Babe" played on the juke box.

When Grissom first noticed the soft, almost insignificant tickle against his right leg, he thought perhaps a bug had inadvertently crawled up his pants. Unlike most people whose initial impulse would have to immediately knock it off and kill it, his inclination was to enjoy the sensation and attempt to classify said bug. He tried to discern whether it was a winged or pedal specimen. After approximately twenty seconds, the tickling stopped and he returned his attention to the meal at hand.

As usual after a stressful shift, all the members of his team would somehow migrate, unbidden to Frank's Diner to relax and regroup before each headed home.

"This is positively putrid," came an unexpected exclamation from Greg.

Grissom, along with everyone else watched as Greg spit out a spoonful of cereal and milk into his paper napkin, stuffed the napkin into his bowl, then he quickly took a drink of coffee to wash out his mouth.

That's when Grissom felt it again: it was almost like a soft, down-feather against his shin just above his sock. He decided it was probably a common housefly that had landed on him and was disappointed in how quickly he'd deduced the culprit.

Everyone at the table was still laughing at Greg whose expression still held a grimace. Sara broke Greg's tension and asked, "Why do you always get cereal every time we come here?"

"Why? Because it's magically delicious, you silly rabbit." Greg lifted his eyebrows flirtatiously but the move was lost on Sara. She was intently drinking her iced tea and completely ignored Greg's amorous gaze.

Then the fly was back was vengeance. Grissom wondered why it kept returning to exactly the same spot on his leg. While sitting, his pants legs naturally lifted to allow some slack around his crotch and he knew he was wearing a shorter sock than he normally did, so therefore more of his leg showed that usual. But the same spot, every time? He wasn't so sure of himself anymore.

He felt increased pressure from the area which gradually progressed until he couldn't quite figure out what was on his leg. A fly couldn't possibly apply that much pressure and he knew of no other winged creature that was small enough to get in his pants, fly off and return so accurately.

Then it was gone. Again.

It was starting to become unnerving and just plain distracting especially since Sara was sitting on his right, which was usually unnerving and distracting. Her body accidentially pressed close to his in the cramped circular booth when she'd asked Greg about his cereal. She still hadn't backed off; and he loved it. His whole right side that touched hers was tingling as if electrical static was passing through her skin into his. Grissom found this to be very stimulating, but that damn fly was getting on his nerves.

Grissom shifted his body weight and crossed his legs in the opposite direction of Warrick who was seated to his left. Conversation was still going on around the table and he wanted to look under the table to see if it, whatever it was, was still under there, but something else caught his attention. Sara pulled away from him unconsciously as someone started speaking to her.

"Greg's right, Sar. You are a rabbit, what with all those salads you eat all the time," Warrick joked. "Why don't you come back to the dark side and have a burger with cheese or a big pile of bacon? I'll buy it for ya."

"I don't think so, Warrick. But thanks, I'll remember your offer should I ever change my mind," Sara coolly retorted. "Besides I have my spinach and artichoke dip, too. Definitely not rabbit food."

Sara put some of the dip on a pita chip and leaned across Grissom to offer the chip for Warrick. "See for yourself. It's delicious."

Warrick leaned as far away from Sara as possible. "No way, Sar. Get that stuff out of my face!" The more Warrick leaned away from Sara, the more she leaned into Grissom to push her proffered chip. It made most of the team laugh including Warrick who said, "Seriously, Sar, you're killing me with that."

With Sara practically in his lap, Grissom was thinking the exact same thing.

Satisfied she had won the tiff, Sara eased back in her former position. Grissom watched as she took a sip of her beverage. As she lithely drank, her lips glistened making them even more irresistible and pink. He wanted to kiss the tea off those lips and have them glisten with his own taste and desire.

"Wait," Nick said, unknowingly interrupting Grissom's thoughts. "Wait, ya'll are getting your cereals confused," Nick continued. "It's the leprechaun with Lucky Charms like Greg is eating, but the other sayin', that comes from 'Trix are for kids, you silly rabbit.'" Nick, with a look of triumph, sat back in his seat with both hands behind his head and gloated over the others like he'd found the missing piece of evidence in a high profile case.

"Since when are you a connoisseur of cereals?" Catherine laughed while taking a bite of her apple pie.

Grissom startled and nearly jumped out of his seat the next time he felt the pressure on his leg and everyone around him looked at him.

"What's wrong, Griss?"

If that was a fly, then it possessed strong, silky calves. Just like the ones Grissom had seen that morning when Sara had been shaving her legs in those oh, so short and tight jogging shorts that offered such brilliantly easy access to her warm, wet, inviting...

He needed to get out of there and quick. "Muscle spasm. You know, I..." He went to get up and felt just how tight his pants were now against his crotch. Okay, so nix that last idea, stay tight... PUT, he thought. Maybe if everyone else left... "Catherine, did you need to pick up Lindsey this morning?"

Catherine looked at her watch as she sipped her coffee. "Oh, shit. Thank you, Gil. I am late." Catherine, who was sitting on the other side of Warrick, shooed her other two booth mates out, so she could exit.

While Greg returned to his seat across from Grissom, Nick didn't, he reminded standing. "I'm going to head out, too. Grab some sleep before catching up on all the college games from yesterday. See ya'll."

The quartet sat quietly until...

"Jeez, man," Warrick laughed as Grissom seemed startled again. "What kind of muscle cramps you having over there?"

Grissom could feel himself turn red. "Must have done something while on my knees..." Oh, what I would do if Sara was on her knees under the table, instead of playing footsies with me. "I mean... um... pulled something..." Oh, she could pull something alright.

The stares he received from his three co-workers did nothing to subside the shade of red creeping up his neck under his beard.

Sara got out her purse to retrieve her credit card for the bill, a goofy smile on her face in reaction to the silent events at the table. "Well, this has been real fun, guys, but I'm outta here."

Grissom scooted to the end of the booth. "Didn't Brass give you a ride in from PD before shift?"

Sara grimaced as she recalled the prior evening's events. "My car's still there. Damn."

Grissom got up, carefully holding his napkin in his lap in front of his ongoing problem. "I have a meeting there this morning. I can drop you off."

Sara nonchalantly nodded her head. "OK. Thanks."

They both placed a couple of bills on the table for a tip for the waitress then Grissom slipped the napkin onto the table and quickly got in front of Sara, knowing that being behind her would make things harder...MORE DIFFICULT.

At the register, Grissom stealthily paid for both his and Sara's meals, and then they exited through the front door. They walked side-by-side in silence as they approached Grissom's SUV, which was located at the far side of the lot away from any other cars. Grissom unlocked the doors remotely, they got in the vehicle and when Sara went to buckle her seatbelt, Grissom stopped her by grabbing her hand.

Grissom pounced on her, his lips claiming her mouth. As one of his hands reached behind her head to secure her in place, the other stroked her thighs repeatedly and with urgency. A growl escaped his lips as he moved his hand north, undid the button of her pants, and ruthlessly pulled the zipper open.

"Hey! What the hell, Griss?" Although dizzy with desire, Sara managed to break the kiss, much to his chagrin. "What is going on with you?"

Grissom leaned back, his eyes lusty, dark and his smile sexy, dangerous. "You started this, my dear."

She would forever be entranced by this masculine, raw side of her lover, but this was the parking lot at Frank's, and they weren't 15 years old on their first date.

And, did he say she started it? "Excuse me, but how did I start this?"

Grissom leaned into Sara once more, his hand sliding between her legs then trailed a path down her leg to her calf. "Does this ring a bell?" He asked as he applied the exact pressure on her leg with his hand as she had in the restaurant with her toes.

His ministrations were making Sara forget what they were talking about and she had no idea how she had "started this." "You mean this morning when I shaved my legs and you accidentally put on my socks instead of yours?"

As the familiar image filled his head, Grissom closed his eyes, but lifted his head to Sara. He opened his eyes to see her soft, doe-like, brown eyes. "Don't play innocent, my dear. Those gorgeous shaved legs and gifted toes drove me crazy in the diner and you know it."

Sara smiled. "You are so incredibly horny right now..."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, her smile not able to totally mask her desire. "You're crazy and I think you are starting to drive me crazy."

"Mad." Grissom uttered before pouncing on her once more, fervently kissing her mouth before moving to her neck. "I'm not crazy for you; I'm mad for you."

No matter the reason, Sara gave in to his urging but only until she was able to summon a voice of reason. "Babe, we do have a townhouse and a soft bed that would be more comfortable..."

Grissom pulled back, quickly started the Denali and popped it into reverse just as Sara buckled her seat belt. "We'll get your car later."

"Good idea," Sara said, just before she placed her hand on Grissom's manhood and unbuttoning his pants. "But drive safely."

Grissom groaned and he turned into the oncoming traffic without looking both ways first.

Meanwhile back in the diner, the same waitress brought Greg another breakfast – a triple stack of chocolate-chip pancakes topped with whipped cream and a side of strawberry syrup, homemade hashbrown casserole, biscuits and gravy, two eggs over easy and a plate with four slices of bacon and two sausage links. The final thing the waitress laid on the table was an extra-large glass of grade-A 100% pure Florida orange juice.

"That all for you boys?" she said as John Fogerty sang "Do do do, lookin' out my backdoor" in the background.

Greg rubbed his hands triumphantly at the feast before him. "I think that's it. Just leave the check with the generous man across from me."

Warrick took the check for the meal and grinned as he watched Greg dig in. "So is victory as sweet as they say?"

Greg made an orgasmic type face as he licked the syrup off his lips. "Oh yeah."

Warrick shook his head in disbelief. "I cannot believe you went through with it." Warrick said of the bet the two of them made while finalizing evidence from a crime scene during the previous shift.

Warrick challenged Greg to play footsies with Grissom. But the kicker to the deal was that Grissom couldn't have any idea that it was Greg. Grissom's reaction was comical and priceless, but Warrick couldn't figure out why Grissom didn't realize it was Greg and then knock him senseless. "Grissom must be off his game, man, how could he not know that it was your scrawny, hairy leg feeling him up?"

"You see Warrick, it's all about commitment," and with that Greg slipped off his loafer and lifted up his leg, with his bare foot resting on the dark faux leather seat. He pulled up his pants leg to reveal a smooth, freshly-shaved lower leg. "Go ahead. Silky to the touch."

Warrick surprised himself by leaning over to touch the man's calf. "When the hell did you have the time to do this?"

"A man can only share so many secrets," Greg said before putting his foot back down and enjoying his free meal once again.

"So Griss probably thought it was Cat or Sara," Warrick surmised. "And you got him again after Cat left."

"Yes I did," Greg smiled.

"Greg, did Sara make you mad or something. I can't imagine the tension in that SUV right about now. You didn't just throw Sara to the wolf for no reason did you?"

Greg smiled as some egg ran down the side of his mouth. "Nope, there was a reason."

THE END

A/N: Chauncey said I shouldn't ask for reviews. But I think it's OK to say, "Hey, go ahead. Review it. You know you want to." To me that is not so much groveling as it is counseling for the readers.