A/N: Weekly Improv fic. I'm a little short this week. I hope you don't hold it against me. G.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I'm definitely not a PTB and own nothing related to CSI.
"Because you're the pretty CSI, Nicky," the drunken Greg explained.
Nick slammed his beer bottle down with a clunk. "You're not?"
"Nah, I'm the smooth, suave, irresistibly cute one, but I'm no pretty boy."
"So that's it? You're pigeon-holing me as 'the pretty one'?" Nick took another swig of his light beer. His speech was noticeably slurred. "If I'm pretty, then what are Sara and Catherine?"
Greg waved his hand dismissively. "Apples and oranges, my friend. You're a pretty boy. They're beautiful women. Big difference. You want another round?"
"Yeah," Nick nodded. "Thank God Warrick's driving." Greg went to the bar to order more beers. Nick glanced out the window, where Warrick was busily chatting with his new girlfriend on his cell phone. Damn, he's good, Nick thought.
The three men had decided to go for drinks after an emotionally difficult case. They hadn't intended to get plastered, but one thing had led to another. It felt good to blow off some steam. Warrick had to be in court in a couple of hours, and thus had been chosen as the designated driver.
"Funny you should mention Sara," Greg slurred as he dropped into his chair. "What's up with her?"
"What do you mean?"
"She seems depressed or something lately."
Nick shrugged. "She's okay. She's just on the outs with Grissom for some reason, and it's pissing her off."
"Wow," Greg said playfully, "if that's your take on it, you must be one hell of a CSI."
"What?" Nick asked in mock indignation.
"You've totally missed the underlying issues between those two."
"Oh, do tell."
Greg took a long drink, and then elaborated. "They totally dig each other. But Grissom's an idiot—I mean, he's a genius, but he's stupid when it comes to, um, interpersonal relationships. He treats her like dirt sometimes because he doesn't know how to handle being enamored with a subordinate. Of course she's pissed off." He brought the bottle to his lips again. "I just thought she'd be used to it by now and not let it get her down. See, that's why she should give the Great Gregsby a chance."
"You'd have a better shot with Anna Kournikova, Greggo." Nick laughed raucously. "Sara's not into you, but she was over her crush on Grissom a long time ago."
"No way." Greg shook his head.
"Well, what about that…uh…that dude what's his name she was going out with?"
"A decoy, my friend, a red herring," Greg explained. "I don't know if she was genuinely trying to move on with someone else, or if she was just trying to get the G-man's goat so he'd get off his ass and ask her out, but whichever it was, it didn't work."
"You can't be serious," Nick squinted through his empty beer bottle. The bronze and distorted image of his companion made him laugh again.
"Come on, Nick. Did you meet that guy? Sara was way out of his league. There's no way she was actually diggin' him. It was like she went out and found someone who was the complete opposite of Grissom. That song 'Is She Really Going Out With Him?' was written just for that situation. She needs a man with a superior intellect. And that," Greg moved his head abruptly and fought off the accompanying wave of dizziness, "is something I can offer her."
"Oh geez," Warrick groaned as he sat at the table. "How much have you guys had? Last beer, okay? I've got to get you two home so I can get to court."
"That song was written more than twenty years ago, Greg." Nick seemed oblivious to Warrick's presence.
"It's an age old situation. But Joe Jackson was ahead of his time." Greg wondered to himself how the room could rotate around them, but Nick and Warrick didn't move. Maybe I've had enough to drink. "You know," he slurred, "someone should get Grissom a clue. I vote for you."
"Me?" Nick's drunken mind registered the fact that confronting Grissom about Sara might not be a good career move. "Why me? You're the one with all this stuff in your head." He moved his hand in a circular motion beside his head, and instantly regretted it.
"Yeah, I could do it," Greg decided. He pulled out his phone. "What's his home number?"
Warrick rolled his eyes. "Oh, this should be good."
"Hey, how come when you call me on your private cell phone, it doesn't show up on my caller ID?" Nick asked.
"Because it's unlisted. What's Grissom's number?"
As Nick rattled off the number, Greg dialed.
"Hello?" Grissom's voice answered. Greg wisely felt a sudden attack of terror and didn't respond.
"Hello?" Grissom asked again.
As Greg struggled to find his words, he heard something in the background on Grissom's end of the line. "Who is it?" Sara's voice rang. Oh my God! Greg pushed the 'end' button and disconnected the line immediately. He heard a shrill sound, and wasn't certain whether he had been the one to make it.
Nick stared at him with a puzzled expression. "Did you just squeal?"