Best Kept Private
By Joan Powers
A/N: Finally, a great episode! Fresh inspiration. A girl's got to celebrate, right? As always, thanks to PhDelicious for her assistance. Fluff warning
Type: Humor, G/S romance
Summary: Why is Greg trying to keep Catherine away from Grissom's office? GSR
Timeline/Spoilers: Season 6 "Time of Your Death"
Rating: T
"Are you really going in there?" Greg nervously asked Catherine. They were poised before Grissom's closed office door. Uncharacteristically, the blinds were drawn and shut, blocking the view of their supervisor's office.
"Sure, why not?" Catherine's knuckles were raised, about to knock on the door.
"You might want to think about that," Greg blurted. "It might not be a good idea."
Catherine stared at Greg, wondering what he was talking about.
Sensing she wasn't about to take his advice, he stepped closer and tried to explain, "'Cause you know…um…the timing might be bad. It's past the end of the shift and …offices are private."
Catherine stared at Greg as if he'd grown another head. It had been a long shift but not that long.
He'd have to tell her more. "Just like fantasies."
Her knuckles lowered, he had her rapt attention. "And what would you be implying?" Her eyes lit up.
Glancing nervously towards the closed office door, he suggested, "Have you seen Sara recently?"
"No," Catherine's interest was growing.
Greg peered over his shoulder as Archie breezed by. "Why don't we step into the break room to discuss it?" The tilt of his chin indicated the confidential nature of the subject matter.
Greg fought his impulse to scurry guiltily away from Grissom's office as they rounded the corner. Having been caught at the scene of the crime once, he had no desire to experience that again. He understood that his supervisor was human, that he had needs just like anybody else. Greg could handle that -- no problem. And perhaps that case earlier in the week had served to ignite a flame that was too hard to for the two of them to resist. That made sense. He just didn't need to be a witness.
When they entered the break room, Catherine turned to Greg, in full interrogation mode. "Okay, spill it. All the details. Now."
"How do you know there's anything to tell?" Greg hedged, a little embarrassed. Perhaps this had been a poor idea. He had no intention of relaying precise details of what he'd inadvertently glimpsed. It wasn't as if he'd stayed once he realized what he'd blundered into. He was intensely grateful he'd managed to back out of the room without being noticed by the other occupants.
Frankly, he was still trying to erase that image of exposed flesh from his memory. He had no intention of spreading idle gossip; he was honestly thrilled for the two of them. Recognizing similarities between this morning and the one that occurred only three days ago, he just didn't want to risk the possibility of Catherine stumbling into a similar situation.
Or perhaps the participants had the foresight this time to lock the office door?
"I can read you better than I can read my own daughter. The whole story." Catherine leaned closer, expecting a juicy tale.
Now he was in trouble. He'd have to give up something. Lowering his voice, he explained, "Well, let's just say that after our talk about fantasies and my upcoming birthday, when I strolled past Grissom's office on my way out that morning, I thought I'd tease him about buying me breakfast or some other extravagant present. It's such fun to razz him, even though it only seems to annoy him. Gives me great pleasure."
Sensing Catherine's impatience, he cut to the chase. "His door was shut and the blinds closed, just like today. But I didn't think anything of it. Figured his tarantula needed its beauty sleep or something like that. Or maybe the big guy himself was taking a nap. Since knocking on Grissom's door is usually an empty formality anyway I just sauntered on in. The noises should've tipped me off immediately but they didn't register. I sure wasn't expecting to see…" Greg froze mid-sentence.
"What! You can't leave it there!" Catherine protested.
"Yeah, could be a good story," Slightly breathless, Sara pulled up a chair and sat down beside them. "A little birthday action?" she teased as she tucked a stray tendril behind her ear with her fingertips and then smoothed her blouse.
Greg was turning red, uncertain how much of his account Sara had actually heard. Allowing himself to breathe for a moment, he realized that she must not have caught any of the specifics or her reaction would've been quite different. He had no intention of hurting Sara or Grissom. That was the last thing he wanted to do.
Yet his mind couldn't help itself. Had they been…together...in his office…again? So soon, only after three days? Was he imaging things or was her hair out of place? Her smile also seemed much brighter than usual, even her eyes sparkled. Or maybe he was reading too much into it?
He fidgeted uncomfortably under the women's scrutiny, uncertain how to proceed. Then it came to him. Pretending to take the moral high road, he stammered, "No ladies…um…I have to agree with Grissom on this one. Fantasies are best kept private."
THE END