"It's completely obvious," Catherine said, getting a soda out of the refrigerator. "She's not even trying to hide it."

Nick and Greg nodded from the breakroom loveseat, where they were both seated… and in love.

"Well, sometimes she wears jackets," Warrick noted, one leg up on the coffee table so as better to display his jeans-clad package. "The jackets are what clued me in."

"I have to admit, I was slow to catch on," Nick said, squeezing Greg's knee. "At first I just assumed it was a beer belly. But then after a few years went by, I got suspicious."

Greg threaded his fingers through Nick's. "I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned it. We're CSI's, after all. Did she think we wouldn't notice?"

"Precisely," Warrick nodded. "We are trained investigators. I mean, obviously we would know if our coworker, who we saw every day, was pregnant."

"Oh, hey guys," Sofia said, breezing in the door.

Her muumuu fluttered as she paced over to the refrigerator. Reaching inside she retrieved a wheel of cheese and a canister of mustard. Placing the dairy product onto the counter, she slathered it in mustard and proceeded to gobble it down at though she hadn't eaten in days.

"Hungry, Sofia?" Warrick asked, popping open another button on his designer label shirt.

Nodding, her hands went to her lower back and began to knead. "Oh, my back is killing me!"

"Rough case?" Catherine asked, applying another label of lipstick and adjusting her bosom in her bra. "You should take it easy."

Waddling over to a seat next to her, Sofia plopped down, "And my ankles hurt so badly!"

Nick leaned over the table and glanced down at her ankles (as Greg leaned back and stared at Nick's ass). "Yeah, they look really swollen. Did you twist them both, simultaneously?"

"Must have," she shrugged. "So what were you guys talking about when I came in?"

"Sara," Catherine supplied. "We all think she's pregnant."

"That does make a lot of sense," Sofia nodded, dipping a dill pickle into a tub of peanut butter. "Have you seen the jackets she's been wearing?"

Nick hummed. "Girl, please. They're so grossly out of place. Who wears jackets to crime scenes, anyway?"

"Hi, everyone," Grissom said, hurrying into the breakroom. "Just going to grab a water. It's so, so, so hot at my scene." He took out a bottle of water, using the edge of his thick jacket to help open the twisty top before hurrying back out.

"As I was saying," Nick continued, "nobody wears jackets to scenes."

"We're trained investigators," Sofia said, breathing in a staccato hee-hee-ho-ho pattern. "How could she think we wouldn't realize she had a giant freak-belly?"

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "I mean… if one of us was suddenly so full of Botox that she looked like she had the head of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, you can bet she would know that we'd know about it."

"That is so true," Catherine nodded, her expressionless expression lacking any human expression. "If I could furrow my brow in self-righteous indignation, I so would."

Nick leaned back in his chair and began running the flat of his index finger over his upper lip. The hair there had grown out to massive proportions, and as Catherine went babbling on about her keen powers of perception, he pulling out a brush and setting gel and began twisting the ends of the hair in.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked, batting his eyelids and Nick fashioned a perfect 'o' of a curl on either end of his 'stache.

Nick shrugged, "Well, no one said anything about the brilliance of my facial hair before so I figured I'd make it a little more noticeable. I mean, it is sooooo attractive."

Greg blinked twice and then leaned his chin on his palm. "Wait, facial hair before? When?"

"Facial hair is great," Grissom said, popping his head in the door. "Helps camouflage chin fat."

"Hey Grissom, come in here for a second," Sofia called, lifting her feet into metal stirrups. "We need a sixth opinion. Don't you think Sara is pregnant?"

The absence of beard made Grissom's flushed cheeks all the more noticeable. "Who with the what now?"

"Sara," Catherine repeated. "Sara 'Buddha-Belly' Sidle. Don't you think she's hella pregnant?"

"But the… and the…" he stammered, then threw his fists in the air, whooping "My guys are still in the game!" as he ran down the hall.

"She's probably close to term now," Warrick noted. "The belly's been around for at least three or four seasons. Er, I mean, years. Years."

They all blinked a few times at the math but none of them mentioned anything further. "Well, if she is, I wonder who the father is, she'd have to be dating someone. Or at least sleeping with someone..." Greg speculated sadly even as he ran his hand through Nick's hair.

Catherine sat up angrily at that, "Well, clearly, I would know. I am ridiculously invested in everyone's social life to the point that I have none of my own."

"It's true!" Sofia nodded quickly, "She really doesn't have a life... well, save for sleeping with all those random men, but that's not a social life..."

Catherine shook her head sadly, "No, no it's really not." Biting her lip, she thought for a moment. "And if Sara is seeing someone, Gil will be heartbroken. Everyone here totally knows that he's had a thing for her forever and vice versa."

Warrick nodded, rolling up his sleeves and pursing his lips, "As I said before, we're all highly trained, and clearly have no lives and are invested in theirs to the point that we're almost stalkers. Remember that elaborate scheme we tried to pull in order to get them to go on a date?"

Nick nodded sadly, "Candied walnuts and tennis shoes... and that chicken didn't even stand a chance." They all shook their heads as sadly as Nick had. "Well, shows us, never buy one of those ACME kits..."

"Blimey," Sofia blurted out. "Me bloody bum is sore."

"Your butt is bloody?" Catherine cried in alarm.

"I'm gobsmacked, you cheeky monkey!" Sofia retorted, digging into a platter of fish and chips.

"I love watching full-blooded American women fight," Warrick grinned, stroking his chest. "Mee-yow."

Nick and Greg were busy playing footsie, and didn't notice. Eventually their breathing grew heavier, and they ran off to the showers together.

"It's sad," Catherine sighed, watching them go. "Poor Nick and Greg, all alone in the world."

"I know," Warrick agreed. "We need to find them girlfriends."

Suddenly, a shriek rang out in the hallway.

"Somebody help!" Grissom wailed. "Sara's water just broke! Help!"

"It's all good," a janitor piped up, sweeping up the broken water bottle… ominously.

The End