Author's Notes: This fic is being made as a response to XxImaginaryLightxX's fanfic challenge from the yourtaxdollarsatwork (dot) org forums. The conditions?

The Policeman's Ball
---CSIs (Day and Night shift) must go
---Dress Shopping for Sara
---The phrase: "Did Ecklie just challenge me to a dance off?" (Must be said by Grissom)
---Sara and Griss do the tango!
---Open bar
---Drunk Greg
---A picture of Sara and Greg with: Sara holding up the hem of her dress to her thigh to reveal a garter and Greg holding up his pants leg to reveal the same color garter.
---Any length
---Any rating
---GSR (Of course)

It's my first CSI fic, as well as my first fic outside of the anime realm. I hope it's well received.

Disclaimer: Keep in mind; I don't own CSI or any characters etc. If I did I'd be writing episodes, not fanfics.

CSI: - Party Fever
Chapter One – Invitations . . . or Mandates?

Gil Grissom surveyed the piece of cardstock in his hand silently as he sat at his desk, leaning back after a rather grueling night shift. They'd succeeded in closing a double-homicide case, two B&E's and a hit and run after weeks of evidence gathering and analysis. The taxing shift was punctuated by an equally exhausting invitation. The prospect of the annual Policeman's Ball had not bothered him in previous years; he'd merely be sure to find something to occupy his time. Picking up shifts, attending conventions and conferences out of state, or just spending the evening at home with his scientific journals. This year it seems they'd caught onto him, however, as the invitation had a note scrawled across it, making it clear that if he didn't attend he'd regret it. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, exactly, but his mind touched on a number of plausible threats; they could cut back on the overtime they allowed him, take away his secondary office he'd thus far been using to contain his many insects . . . He grimaced.

He'd never been the most social of men, preferring his text books and research papers to parties and dates. He didn't have any real problem with spending time with others, but throughout his youth he'd distanced himself from his peers. While the other kids were playing sports or riding bikes he was dissecting animals and loitering around the morgue. While the other teens found interests in making out with their girlfriends and going to movies he spent his time reading classic novels and studying the latest scientific theories. As a result he'd found interacting with others in his adulthood to be a bit of a struggle. Sure, he could pass himself off as a friendly-enough guy, but it was not without tremendous effort. His eyes panned over the invite once more. This wasn't going to be the best of nights for Gil Grissom.

Sara chewed her lower lip as she read over the elegant calligraphic words of the invitation. A party? At first thought she'd smiled, glad for a chance to let her hair down with her fellow CSIs. A reflexive sidelong glance down the hallway had dampened those spirits however as she saw a stone-faced Grissom reading over a piece of cardstock similar to the one she held. He seemed to be having some sort of inner conflict that Sara doubted she'd really be able to comprehend, though she'd gladly listen if he had ever cared to share. But Gil Grissom wasn't exactly that great at sharing, she'd come to realize.

The night of fun, she surmised, would not be quite as fun as she originally thought. Grissom would probably just shrug it off as usual and spend the night doing . . . whatever it was Grissom did when not at work, which would leave Sara at the party, but her thoughts with him. She knew that he was out of his element among crowds, and was reluctant to push him into anything he wasn't willing to do, but she couldn't help but feel pity for him when she was out with friends and she knew he was home alone.

She didn't want to pity him; she'd prefer to go about her life and spend time with her friends, maybe go out on a date or two. But she couldn't, just knowing he was still there. Sara groaned, leaning forward onto the break table to lay her head on her folded arms. What to do . . .

"So, Sara . . ." Greg bounced into the room happily, sitting across from her at the table. Sara peeked one eye above her arm to see him smiling at her, holding a similar invitation in his hand. She was fairly sure what he was here for, "I see you also have received an invitation to the party," the lab rat motioned towards the paper Sara was still holding, "So, whatdya say, wanna go with me?"

She sighed, sitting back up, "Actually I think I'm going to sit this one out. Maybe next year, Greg."

"Heh, good luck," Catherine came sauntering into the break room and commenced pouring herself a fresh cup of coffee, "The powers that be have decided no one's getting out this year," she explained, "Lindsey wanted to go to the lake for the weekend but as luck would have it the higher-ups have decided to make attendance mandatory," she frowned.

"Mandatory?" Sara repeated, knowing what that may mean.

"Oh yeah," Catherine nodded, retiring to the break table with her fresh coffee, "And you know what that means."

"Grissom's coming?" Greg suppressed a laugh, "Does he even dance?"

Sara would've smiled at the prospect of an evening of dancing and formal wear with Gil Grissom had she not known that this wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He probably wasn't going to be too happy about this. Not to mention she couldn't exactly say she'd be spending the time with him, as he'd probably spend his time half-pouting in the corner somewhere. She didn't mind that he was inclusive, it was just his way. But it wasn't going to make this any easier.

Author's Notes: First off, sorry this chapter is so short. I'm very sick (bronchitis) and all of my energy is being put into my swooning. Seriously, didn't everyone love Grave Danger tonight? I'll update ASAP with lots more angst . . . I mean GrissomSara-ness. LOL