Rating: T (mild language)
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: I don't own these characters, I'm just using them as puppets in my twisted little stories.
Author's Note: Written in response to the Unbound Challenge from 10 Jan 2005.
Blame the Deli
by Lapsus Stili
Grissom froze suddenly; the growl was soft, but dangerous, and coming from below his waist. He hadn't been feeling well all night, but he was hoping whatever it was would pass soon. All the time that he was processing the robbery scene with Sara out in Henderson, he had been able to push his intestinal discomfort to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Now in the Denali for the 40-minute ride back, bumping over the ill-maintained streets only made matters worse. The cramping that began to accompany the gurgling noises told him in no uncertain terms that the egg salad sandwiches he had earlier for supper, though seemingly appetizing at the time, were not about to let him off so easily. Another grumble, decidedly louder this time, let loose. Grissom stole a quick glance to the left, mortified that Sara might have heard. If she did, she gave no indication as she continued to hum softly along to the radio while navigating the darkened roads.
His eyes slipped closed and his fingers clenched and unclenched, his arms firmly crossed over his gut. Oh God, please don't let me be gassy! Not now! In his concentrated effort to will his body's turmoil into submission, Grissom did not notice when his partner began to eye him warily.
"Are you ok?" Sara finally asked, knowing full well that something was up.
A strangled "Fine", was all she got in response. The last thing Grissom wanted was to have to explain his dire need for a washroom for some very unpleasant business, especially to Sara of all people.
Sara rolled her eyes at his response, or lack thereof.
"Right. Of course. You're just peachy. That's why your face is beet-red, you're trembling, and from what I can tell, you just broken out in a sweat. If that's your version of fine, I'd hate to see you if something was wrong."
The ill man winced from her obvious sarcasm, and bit his tongue to suppress a groan. I really need a pit stop! He forced his eyes open and was about to try to convince Sara that he was alright when he saw the bright lights of a gas station just ahead on the lonely highway.
"Turn here – NOW!" he barked unceremoniously.
"Alright already…don't get your knickers in a knot!"
The Denali eased to a halt, and Grissom was out and across the parking lot in a flash. It occurred to Sara that she had never seen her boss move so quickly. She felt guilty then for snapping at him, realizing that he really must be feeling pretty sick. Her eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her that most gas stations kept their washrooms locked. Grissom had bolted around the building without thinking to get the keys from the attendant inside.
Quickly she shut off the truck and dashed into the station. She came back out and rushed around the corner, only to crash head-on into a near-panicked Grissom. They both grabbed at each other to keep from falling. Recovering quickly, Sara held up the key attached to a ridiculously large keychain. A look of pure relief washed across the man's stricken face.
"Oh, thank God! I love you!" he mumbled, hugging her briefly.
With that he snatched the key, then spun around and rushed off again, leaving a stunned Sara gaping. She couldn't believe what he just said. He's really delirious!
About fifteen minutes later, Grissom finally climbed back into the truck. He had taken care of things, so to speak, and had also taken the time to toss some water on his face, making him a bit more presentable. Besides still feeling a bit sick, he was also jittery after realizing what he had blurted to Sara. Where the hell had THAT come from? Maybe she didn't notice…
One cautious look into her eyes as he was fastening his seatbelt dashed that hope. She was looking back at him with both concern and hope mingled in her gaze. His little half-smile made an appearance then. Not knowing what to say in his embarrassment, he shifted his attention to his side window.
"Are you alright, Gris?" Sara queried as she started the engine again. "You look a lot better."
"Yes. I'm much better now… thanks," he said softly. After a moment he added in explanation, "Bad food."
Oh. "Well, I guess that means you won't want that last sandwich that's still in the back for later then, eh?"
Grissom's face screwed up in disgust and his stomach flip-flopped at the thought of that last "tainted" snack waiting in the back seat. With some effort, he twisted around in his seat and fished the offending item from the cooler. Both of them eyed it with suspicion before Sara turned her focus back to her driving. It looked ok, but anyone unfortunate enough to have to use the facilities at that gas station in the next hour or so would likely beg to differ.
A cool wind suddenly filled the cab as Grissom rolled down the window. In an uncharacteristic move, he tossed the loosely wrapped sandwich out into the night, deriving some measure of satisfaction from the act. Sara glanced at him grinning, but said nothing.
By the time they pulled into the lot at headquarters the sun was just starting to rise. In the gathering light they could see Catherine heading to her car which was parked just beside them. She opened her mouth to say goodnight to them, but her attention was caught by an odd sight.
"Uh, guys?" was all she could spit out, gawking at the side of the truck.
Both occupants clambered out to see what was so intriguing. When Sara came around to the passenger side, she found Grissom sheepishly looking at the large smear of egg salad that now "decorated" her Denali. She shook her head smirking.
Catherine looked back and forth between the two of them.
"How did this happen?"
A/N: Sorry if any of you are offended by the topic, but hey, we're human – we've ALL been there!