Rated: PG, maybe PG-13 if you count the baseball metaphors
Summary: It's another GSR busted story. I just like to imagine how Brass found out.
It was a nice restaurant, nicer than anywhere he ever ate. It had tablecloths and candles and no one had died there in recent memory. Brass had been watching the couple at the corner table for about ten minutes. He was on duty, but this was technically a surveillance operation of sorts. The man was the real target and he waited to approach until the woman had gotten up to use the restroom. Then, he moved in quickly on his prey.
"Jim, what, uh… are you here for dinner?" Grissom tried unsuccessfully not to look uncomfortable under Brass's somewhat accusatory gaze. He'd been rather enjoying the meal, and the company, before Brass showed up.
The police captain stood across the table from his victim and shrugged. He glanced meaningfully at the recently vacated seat opposite Grissom's, raising his eyebrows. He gave Grissom a minute to squirm, watched him bite his lip, searching for an explanation.
The other man was clearly uncomfortable with the situation and Brass sighed, taking pity on his friend. He held up his badge. "I'm on duty. One of the waiters' brothers skipped bail and then skipped town. Drug charges, possession, that kind of thing. Anyway, it's the same old story. Waiter says he hasn't seen him in weeks, and there's no way to prove if he's lying. So that's a dead end for now."
Grissom was nodding now and the work related chatter seemed to put him at ease, but Brass couldn't resist one more jab. "So, you know, I'm working tonight. But lucky you, you've got the night off. Unless, uh, you're going to tell me this is a business lunch." He winked. Grissom ran his fingers along the edge of the table and cast an anxious look in the direction of the ladies' room.
Brass smirked. "So, Gil… this thing…" he gestured at the empty seat in front of him. "It's been going on for a while, then?"
"I, uh, well, it's…" Grissom was now staring intently at the intricate floral centerpiece, as usual at a loss for words. "We're…" he trailed off again and looked pleadingly at Brass.
"All right. Okay. Fine." Brass held up his hands in mock surrender before continuing, "Here, let's try a different tactic. You're a baseball fan, right, Gil? So, let's talk bases." Grissom looked up in confusion. "Well, how serious is this? You know, first base, second base, third base, oh, and what was that last one? Home run, right?"
The look on his friend's face was priceless and Brass couldn't help but laugh. When he straightened up to look at Grissom again, though, he was a bit surprised to find him seemingly deep in thought. "I'm just messing with you, Gil. Besides, if you have to think this long about it, then you obviously aren't getting any."
Grissom's contemplative air didn't waiver. But after a minute, he spoke.
"I love her."
"Oh." Brass coughed. "Well." That had certainly caught him off guard. He was expecting more of a 'It's none of your business, Jim' or maybe 'Aren't you on duty?' Whatever he was expecting, a declaration of love was the last thing he thought he'd ever hear from Gil Grissom's mouth. He was weighing his options for a hasty retreat, when he noticed Grissom's eyes locked on something behind him.
He turned. The slim brunette approaching the table saw him and froze. He waved, beckoning her over, pulling out the chair for her to sit down.
She looked a little unsure, but then again, he couldn't really blame her.
They exchanged the usual, awkward pleasantries. Brass clasped his hands in front of him. "So, your dinner companion indicates that this has been going on for a while, so it's… pretty serious." Brass looked to her for confirmation.
Sara's worried expression vanished and her face broke into a grin. She laughed, "I don't know what my dinner companion's idea of a while is…" She paused. "But this is our second date."