That Smell
For the Geekfiction Food Fight Ficathon, prompts coffee frappe, vanilla yogurt, and Diet Pepsi.
Spoilers: Through 9x3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to CSI.
Please do not repost this story anywhere without my permission.
Thanks, enjoy.
"What's that smell?"
Hodges paused by the break room door, wary to make his way inside due to the harsh scent that assaulted him.
"Why, Hodges, that's no way to address a lady's new perfume," Catherine stated, sniffing her imaginary aroma.
"No, it's..."
"Greg's aloha designer coffee over there," Catherine joked, smirking across the table at Greg.
Greg quickly shook his head. "Café frappé."
"No, it's," Hodges scanned the room, "you!" Hodges accused, pointing at Nick and striding across the room to the open refrigerator.
"What is that smell!" Agitated, Hodges pushed Nick aside and reached into the refrigerator, rummaging around for anything that looked remotely vile or experimental. "Aha!" Hodges announced, finding the offending item and pulling it toward the front of the refrigerator.
"Don't touch that," Nick said firmly.
"It's rank; it's moldy. It's going out." Hodges moved to pull the yogurt cup out of the refrigerator. It was long past its better days, having traded in bright white, creamy consistency for shades of green and yellow fuzz, its lid long forgotten.
"I said, don't touch that."
Nick pushed Hodges aside, returned the yogurt to its original position in the back of the refrigerator, and closed the refrigerator.
"What is wrong with you?"
"That is Warrick's vanilla yogurt. You do not touch it."
Hodges paused, awe and sympathy briefly crossing his mind. "Nick, you might need, you all might need," wanting to suggest help but knowing at the moment it wouldn't be well received, Hodges redirected his train of thought. "You can't keep this here as an experiment, expecting..."
Greg cut him off before he stated a comment that would have been more poorly received. "I have a can of his Diet Pepsi in my truck," Greg admitted, seemingly more interested in his coffee than the conversation.
"I have a jacket – this jacket," Catherine added, fingering the cuffs rolled up to her wrists.
Unable to relate, Hodges backed away from the refrigerator, toward the door, thinking it best to remove himself from their sight. Not looking behind him, he backed into Grissom, who had paused at the door's entrance.
Grissom eyed Hodges, expecting him to leave. "What do you have, Grissom?"
All eyes turned to Grissom. "I have nothing." All eyes glanced away. "Let's get back to the case."
