CSI: What The Brassman Knows…..

As per TGtBatD, Brass knows some juicy gossip. One assumes he's aware of the GSR.

Thanks to Gibby for the throwdown at YTDAW and Calypso for leading the way.

As usual, I own only a LVCSI shirt-CSI and all it's incarnations belong to Bruckheimer and Co.. If I had my way, Sara would be in Grissom's arms right now and Jorja Fox would have a fat payraise!

"Jesus, he has a what?"

Catherine smirked. "Gil has a …don't laugh….a diary…a "Hello Kitty" diary!"

Brass wiped his eyes then let out a guffaw. "No….this I have to see!"

From behind her back, the CSI he'd most like to frisk produced a pink and green book, complete with beribboned charms. "I was looking for my missing car keys, and he told me I'd left them on his counter. When I retrieved them, I saw this sticking out of his briefcase. I thought he might have found Lindsey's missing diary, but then I saw a pen sticking out…and I knew…"

"Never mind, Catherine…too much information…" Brass smiled, then suddenly plucked the colorful article out of her hand.

"Jim! That's…"

"Not yours, and I hope you didn't break the lock to peek inside." Brass noticed the book was still locked, just misshapen from the monogrammed fountain pen stuck inside.

"No, 'cause there's no way to make it look like someone hadn't read it." She pouted. Brass just shook his head, then pocketed the offending item.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride home….after the day we've had…." Brass nearly choked on his words as the luscious redhead swayed up to him, then planted a kiss on his lips.

"Maybe I'll make it worth your while to open that and tell me what….."

"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"

Groaning, Jim Brass sat up, breathing heavily, the feel of lips, someone's lips on his….. Suddenly he caught sight of a telltale object on his bedside table, then grinned. Bedtime reading it wasn't, but he'd skimmed through the juicy parts of his friends writing and seen the change in the man over several weeks. And his descriptions of what changed him….. no wonder he'd had such a vivid dream…but a year and a half?

"Gil, you old dog, I ought to slap you upside the head….but you mean it this time, you and Sara…" he said out loud. As if in response, the doorbell rang, and yawning, the detective pulled his robe on and went to his front door. Peering through the peephole, he wasn't surprised to see Gil Grissom, hands in his pockets.

Opening the door, he began "Boy, Gil, do you have good timing…", then held up the diary.

Fin.