~*~*~*~ Part III ~*~*~*~
All Nick knew was that he wanted to get home FAST. Once inside the confines of his home, he stripped from the waist down, ridding himself of the offensive underwear and breathing his first full breath of the night.
"Oh, thank GOD!" he moaned, reveling in his newfound freedom. The air was blessedly cool. "I bet I've got rope burn," he muttered. Now that he no longer had to pretend the thongs weren't hindering him all that much, he allowed himself to limp down the hallway towards his bedroom. He didn't think his ass would ever feel the same again. Adjusting the mirrors on his dresser, he turned and looked over his shoulder, and sighed when he saw the marks left from the itchy material and tight elastic. "I hope those marks aren't permanent."
~*~*~*~
Greg was just as elated upon entering his own home. He was sure that he had lost at least ten pounds of sweat that night in his nether region alone. He stripped quicker than Nick, removing every item of clothing despite the fact that his blinds were all wide open. If someone wanted to see him naked so badly they were looking in his windows, more power to them - right now, he could care less. He had to get out of the vinyl. He itched everywhere. The damn bustier had been so tight; he could see the outline of ever stitch clearly outlined on his chest - down to and including the design on the itchy polyester lace inserts. Scratching his chest wildly, he streaked down the hallway cursing Nick and his bright ideas, and making a mental note to never get sucked into betting against Catherine on anything ever again. He barely stopped long enough to grab a towel before his mad dash led him to the bathroom, where he jumped into the most tepid shower of his life.
~*~*~*~
"Did you see how Nick was walking?" Sara asked over breakfast.
"You guys are way too cruel," Warrick said with a laugh. "I don't believe they went through with it."
"Believe it, War," Catherine smirked. "They had no choice."
Brass snorted. "They're a lot more tolerant than I would be."
Grissom decided to abstain from the conversation thus far. Discussing his co-worker's underwear or lack thereof was not exactly his choice of breakfast conversation.
"Nice to know we actually got some work done," he said finally.
Sara rolled her eyes. "Thanks for ruining my fun, Bugman."
"I just have one question," Brass said around a mouthful of eggs. "What do you have in store for them tomorrow?"
~*~*~*~
Greg stared at the assortment awaiting him in his locker.
Why had he ever thought that a bustier was sexy? It pinched and pulled in all the wrong places when he put it on, and giving the relative anatomy of men and women, he knew that something like this had to be equally as uncomfortable for a woman, but it just never registered. It still didn't. Not yet. But, he was beginning to see the light.
His eyes widened as he pulled the thong on. Leopard print, like the top.
"What's black and white and red all over?" Warrick asked as he and Nick walked in to find Greg getting his kit on.
"Don't mess with me," Greg growled, yanking his jeans on with unusual fury.
"You have *got* to be shitting me!" Nick practically yelped as he pulled his fatigues out of his locker.
Warrick laughed. "Velvet. Very nice. I love the color."
"Man - this is a *bra*!"
"Wow, and I thought it had been ages since you'd seen one. Nice to know you still recognize one."
Nick scowled at Warrick. "Can I have some privacy here?"
"Hey - knock yourself out."
Warrick left the locker room with Greg in tow, leaving Nicky to pull on his second thong ever.
*Damn, I'm chafed!*He thought to himself. He wondered if lotion would help.
"Nick! Get a move on!" Catherine called from the doorway. "You ready?"
Nick groaned and pulled his jeans on with a force equal to Greg's. "Cath, go away! I'm serious!"
She walked in and started laughing at the sight of Nick in a bra and his jeans.
"There are some guys - and a few girls - on The Strip who would pay big money to see this."
If looks could kill, Grissom would be investigating the execution of Catherine Willows. Nick hastily jerked his shirt over his head and secured his "FORENSICS" vest over his chest to hide the small lumps the unfilled cups of the padded push-up bra created.
"I *hate* you, Catherine. I loathe you to the very core of your being."
She laughed easily. "If the situation was reversed, you know that you would have put me in something similar. How's the ass?"
"How do you think?" Nick gritted back, but he grinned when Catherine started laughing. "I feel like someone's trying to slice me in half with fishing line."
~*~*~*~
"Greggo!" Sara's voice was lilting, and Greg winced when he saw her standing by the lab door, waiting for him. "Looking good!"
"Shut up, Sara, I'm not in the mood," Greg responded. He'd only had the thong on for five minutes, and already he was in agony. Thongs were not designed for men - for one thing, there was no support. For another, the thin strip attached to the skimpy triangle of material at the front of the thong traveled right up the middle. If he wore these like he wore normal underwear, he would bisect his nuts. After some serious adjusting, Greg had reluctantly just pushed everything to the side, gritted his teeth against the discomfort, and slowly started down the hallway. Thank God he was wearing baggy jeans.
Sara watched the younger man's deliberate movements as he inched down the hallway, and felt a brief flash of sympathy, before the humor of it got the better of her.
"Now, Greggo, is that any way to talk to me?" she teased, "Especially when I've brought you something?"
"If it's made out of lace, vinyl or nylon - forget it. Catherine already left me something in the locker room."
"Yeah - I know - Leopard print," Sara responded cheerfully, "We thought it would bring out the beast in you!" She laughed at Greg's unamused snort, and followed him slowly into the lab. "Actually, I thought you might have heat rash from the vinyl yesterday, so I brought you some Gold Bond anti- itch powder with menthol."
"You're all heart, Sara!" Greg muttered, gingerly sliding his butt up onto the lab stool. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It'll help with the burn," Sara explained, grinning even wider when Greg blushed a furious red. "I don't think I need to elucidate." She patted him in mock sympathy on the shoulder, "Just think - only one more day after today, and you'll never have to wear women's underwear again!"
"Thank God!" Greg muttered, as he read the powder bottle. "Will this really work?"
Sara shrugged, "Cath said baby powder would help - she should know."
"You going to let Nick in on this?"
"Nope," Sara responded, "He's the one that started the whole ridiculous bet. I think he needs to learn a lesson."
Greg grinned - an honest grin - a happy, evil grin - "Good. That red velvet thong you guys left for him is going to drive him batty. I want him to suffer!"
Sara patted him on the shoulder again, before quickly looking at her watch. "Oh, don't worry - he's suffering! I gotta go - the break room is calling me. Catch you later, Tarzan!"
Greg watched her retreating back, torn between scowling at her and laughing. Shaking his head and sighing, he looked at the Gold Bond again, quickly reading the back. He hoped it worked.
~*~*~*~
Everyone was in the break room when Grissom walked in. Quickly scanning his team, he noticed the grins Sara, Catherine and Warrick were all sporting, and turned to face the source of their amusement. Nick was leaning uncomfortably against the counter, shoulders hunched inward, tight lines bracketing his mouth and a thin sheen a sweat beading his forehead.
Grissom half-smiled, "You okay, Nicky? You look like hell."
"Fine Griss," the younger man muttered.
"Why are you all hunched over like that? Chest hurt?"
"The girls have me in a bra today. When I straighten up, the straps dig into my shoulders." Nick stated this calmly, ignoring the amused laughter of the other three team members.
"That explains the protective vest," Grissom remarked dryly, even as his eyes flashed their amusement. "You going to be able to work alright?"
"Yep," Nick responded gamely, "I'll be just fine."
"Good - you and Sara are together - home invasion. Brass is waiting for you." He handed Nick the slip of paper and shook his head as he watched the younger man push off from the counter, wincing as he did so and surreptitiously trying to shift his thong around. "Only one more day to go, Nicky."
Nick grimaced at him, "That's what I keep telling myself." Turning to Sara, he grinned ruefully, "You ready?"
"Race you to the Tahoe, Hop-a-long!" she responded.
Nick just groaned, "Funny, Sidle."
Grissom smirked again and turned to Catherine and Warrick when he heard a howl of pain coming from the lab, quickly followed by a frantic Greg running down the hallway towards the locker room.
Quirking his eyebrow at Catherine, he handed her the paper in his hand.
"Here, Cath. The assignment's there. You and Warrick. I better go see what that was all about." Exiting the break room, he headed down the hallway, following the strong smell of menthol and the sound of Greg's muffled curses. The younger lab tech was standing half-naked in front of his locker, frantically trying to peel out of the leopard print bustier. At least Grissom assumed it was leopard print, as he had heard the girls laughing about it earlier. Right at this moment it was covered in powder, as was Greg. Menthol smelling powder.
Grissom frowned as he quickly noted the hectic red flush on the skin of the younger man's face and neck. He assumed that the flush continued down his chest underneath all that white.
"Greg? What's wrong?"
"Damn that Sara! Damn her!" Greg had finally managed to pry the bustier off, and turned to face Grissom. The skin underneath the bustier was not as powder-covered as the rest of him, and Grissom gasped at the livid red rash that was forming quickly on his chest. His face was red and it looked like he was trying to not cry from pain.
"What the hell happened?"
Greg just shook his head, and grabbed a clean t-shirt from his locker, frantically rubbing it all over his chest, trying to wipe away the powder. His frenzied rubbing caused some of the blisters that had formed to break and bleed.
"Greg, stop! Stop it!" Grissom quickly stepped forward, grabbing Greg's hands and holding them firmly. "Whatever you put on there is turning caustic! You're not rubbing the powder off - you're rubbing it in!"
"It's burning! Jeez, stop it, Grissom!" Greg's brown eyes pleaded with him to stop the pain.
Grissom looked frantically around the locker room, spying a towel and grabbing it. "Go jump in the shower and start rinsing it off - I'll try to find something to neutralize the burning. What is this shit?"
"Gold-Bond Anti-Itch with Menthol. Sara told me it would help!"
"Sara? Why would she tell you that?"
"Because she's a mean, vindictive little bi-"
"Greg!"
Greg stopped short before completing his sentence. Grissom sighed.
"Sara wouldn't purposely hurt you. Shower - tepid - now. Rinse this off. I'll be back in a minute."
Grissom found a small carton of milk in the refrigerator with Sara's name on it. He figured it was penance. Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and called Sara.
"You trying to kill Greg, Sara?" he asked conversationally as he headed back to the locker room. He smiled grimly as he reached the shower stall. "Here Greg - this will neutralize the burning. Pour some in your hands and smooth it on. What Sara? That powder you gave Greg? He's having an allergic reaction to it - he's broken out in blisters. What were you thinking?"
"I had no idea that would happen, Grissom. Seriously, I thought I was helping. Cath said baby-powder would lessen the itching."
"Baby powder, Sara. Not Gold Bond Medicated with Menthol - extra strength! He probably already had a heat rash, and the menthol has just exacerbated everything."
"I was just trying to help."
"Well, stop trying to help. I almost had to send him home. Anyway, Greg's off of the underwear for right now. I think he's learned his lesson."
"Tell him I'm sorry, Griss. Really, I am."
"Well, hurry up and break Nick already, because I don't think I can take anymore of his skulking around here."
"Sure. I'm sorry Grissom."
"Tell her she owes me big time!" Greg hollered from the shower stall. "Thank God I didn't dump the stuff down my pants - I wouldn't be quite so forgiving!"
Grissom smiled into the phone, "You heard that, Sara? Good. Talk to you later." Hanging up the phone, he stood silently outside the shower stall for a minute, before asking rather tentatively, "You feeling better, Greg?"
"A little," Greg muttered. "I think I'm going to apply for hazard pay, though."
The wry comment forced a sharp laugh from Grissom, "Hazard pay?"
"Well, yeah. Between Sara trying to burn my skin off and you infecting me with foot fungus whenever the whim grabs you, I think I deserve it. Got anymore of that cortisone cream?"
~*~*~*~
Sara closed her phone and walked slowly over to Nick, noting how he eased his way down to snap a photo of a footprint.
"Whatcha got there, Nicky?"
Nicky looked up at her. "What? No nicknames? Are you sure you don't want to call me 'Kitty' or 'Bunny' or 'Hop-Along' or 'Vicky' or something? Are you sure? 'Cause I'm starting to get suspicious whenever you call me by my first name any more."
"Okay, Dr. Frankenfurter. Calm down. Geez. What'd you-"
"I've got a footprint. Okay?"
"O-kay!" Sara crossed her arms and stared down at him. *Well, Grissom did say to break him.*
"Sara - could you get me the plaster? I want to make a mold of this."
"Go get it yourself, RuPaul. I'm dusting for prints."
With a flip of her hair, Sara waltzed off to the door of the house pulling out the Red Creeper and smiling when she heard Nick curse her out under his breath.
"What was that, Tinkerbell? Didn't quite catch that!" she turned to look at Nick over her shoulder, enjoying the sight of him rising gingerly to his feet and shaking his ass as he tried to dislodge the underwear. Nick turned to glare at her, but stopped when he noticed the shadow moving along the wall to her left.
"Sara," his voice was tense, "could you come here for a second please? I have something I need to show you."
"As appealing as that sounds," Sara started teasing, stopping only when she noticed Nick's tight expression. His eyes were locked over her shoulder. Suddenly nervous, she took a couple of steps towards him.
Nick moved closer to her, lifting his maglight and shining it along the back alley when she was within arms reach of him. "Brass!" he hollered suddenly, "I think we got a visitor!"
And that's when all hell broke loose. Sara was almost knocked off her feet as a man jumped out from the shadows and pushed by her. Before she could react, Nick was hot on his heels. Brass has come running in from a different direction, alerted by Nick's shout. The pursuit was on.
Sara would have laughed at the absurdity of it if she wasn't worried about Nick. He was quite a bit ahead of the rest of them, gaining ground on the fleeing suspect. Sara hoped the man wasn't armed. Quickly regaining her equilibrium, she hustled past a puffing Brass just in time to see Nick tackle the man to the ground.
"Don't move! Stay where you are!" She hollered as she ran up to Nick, drawing her gun. "Nice grab, Nicky!"
"Thanks," Nick grunted.
Brass came up behind them, quickly cuffing the suspect. "Way to hustle, Pollyanna!"
"Yeah," Nick's mouth was tight, a thin sheen of sweat marring his forehead, as he slowly stood to his feet. "I think I garroted my nuts." He grimaced at Sara's stifled snort, "I can't take this anymore." Reaching into the side of his pants, he grabbed the thin leg strap digging into his hip and snapped it in half, before repeating the process on the other side. Shaking his head ruefully at Sara's large grin, he shimmied slightly and pulled the velour thong out of his pants. "I hope you didn't want to keep these, Sara."
Sara laughed, "Oh. Brave boy - going 'Commando' in those tight jeans."
"Couldn't be any worse than these," Nick muttered. "Too bad I couldn't get rid of the bra as easily."
The young man handcuffed to the left of Brass shook his head, "Yo, yo! What type of crazy-assed uniforms they making you cops wear?"
Nick actually growled at the man in response and shuffled back to the Tahoe.
"What's wrong with him?" Brass asked as one of his deputies led the perpetrator away.
Sara shrugged, than started to laugh at the remembrance of Nick running, legs almost as bowed as Grissom's, as he tried to avoid doing serious damage to himself during the chase.
~*~*~*~
Nick practically limped into the lab at the end of the night. Every step was a part of a strange cadence of raw sweaty flesh rubbing against raw sweaty flesh.
The fact that he had nothing between himself and itchy tight jeans with exaggerated stitches that seemed to be branding themselves into the crevice of his butt did nothing to improve his humor.
Sara walking behind him and noting the halting steps with fiendish glee didn't help him any, either.
"Let's get these prints to the lab, Nick. Then you can sit down-or-whatever and have a little rest."
Nick glared at her and hitched his way to the lab, determined to keep his outward show of discomfort at a minimum.
"When this is all over with, Sara, I'm going to give you the biggest wedgie you've ever experienced."
"I'd get you back."
"Won't matter. I'm still going to do it."
"I won't let you."
"You won't see it coming."
"I'll see it coming."
"No you won't."
"Yes I will."
They were almost at the door to the Print Lab.
"You will not."
"I will too."
"I'm going to sneak up on you and give you the wedgie of your nightmares, and you aren't going to even know what happened until it's all over with."
"You won't even be able to touch me, so instead of talking nightmares, maybe you ought to be talking dreams."
Nick walked in the door of the Print Lab and slammed it in Sara's face.
"How did I manage to do that, then? Huh?" he hollered at her through the closed door.
Sara merely laughed.
~*~*~*~
Sitting in the DNA lab, Greg saw Nick walking gingerly through the hallway and sympathized, to a point.
But his chest was still burning a little from the menthol, and he was still mad about Nick getting him into this mess in the first place.
Lifting up the green bottle of powder, Greg grinned wickedly as he left his lab and followed Nick into the breakroom.
"Chafed, Nick?"
"Sure am," the older man admitted, inching himself into a sitting position in the breakroom chair.
"Well, Sara gave me this powder earlier and told me not to say anything about it to you, but I think it would be mean to keep it from my best friend." *Not exactly the truth, he used to be, but not any more. Not after he got me into this situation.*
"That Sara is just mean," Nick grumbled, grabbing the bottle. *Menthol. That sounds soothing. My skin burns!* "Thanks, Greggo. You're a good friend!"
"Just don't tell her, though."
"Man, I'm not talking to Sara any more. Don't think I ever will again!"
"Good for you, Nick!"
Greg grinned evilly as Nick made his way down the hall towards the locker room, scratching the itchy places on his chest from the bra as he went.
~*~*~*~
Grissom sat in his office doing his crossword puzzle.
"Daiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Greg! I'm gonna kill you!"
Grissom lifted his head at the sound of Nicky yelling obscenities from the locker room.
Standing calmly, he went to the break room and grabbed the carton of milk and walked down the hall mumbling, "Here we go again" under his breath.
TBC __________________________
AN: Zheidi: I feel I need to say a few words before I begin this new chapter. This is not, I repeat *NOT* a fic where romance is even remotely going to enter into the picture, save a little harmless flirting between Catherine, Sara, and their unfortunate victims. (Okay, and a little Cath and Warrick flirting, but they do it anyway. We can't stop them. They've taken on a life of their own.) There are many excellent fics on this site that cater to the romantic in all of us. This is just Mich's and my way of getting Greggo and Nicky in sexy panties. That's all. We're certifiable.
Michmak: In case anyone is wondering, Gold-Bond Menthol Extra Strength can really burn when applied to the wrong places. I wouldn't recommend testing this theory. DO NOT EXPERIMENT AT HOME. You've been warned.
All Nick knew was that he wanted to get home FAST. Once inside the confines of his home, he stripped from the waist down, ridding himself of the offensive underwear and breathing his first full breath of the night.
"Oh, thank GOD!" he moaned, reveling in his newfound freedom. The air was blessedly cool. "I bet I've got rope burn," he muttered. Now that he no longer had to pretend the thongs weren't hindering him all that much, he allowed himself to limp down the hallway towards his bedroom. He didn't think his ass would ever feel the same again. Adjusting the mirrors on his dresser, he turned and looked over his shoulder, and sighed when he saw the marks left from the itchy material and tight elastic. "I hope those marks aren't permanent."
~*~*~*~
Greg was just as elated upon entering his own home. He was sure that he had lost at least ten pounds of sweat that night in his nether region alone. He stripped quicker than Nick, removing every item of clothing despite the fact that his blinds were all wide open. If someone wanted to see him naked so badly they were looking in his windows, more power to them - right now, he could care less. He had to get out of the vinyl. He itched everywhere. The damn bustier had been so tight; he could see the outline of ever stitch clearly outlined on his chest - down to and including the design on the itchy polyester lace inserts. Scratching his chest wildly, he streaked down the hallway cursing Nick and his bright ideas, and making a mental note to never get sucked into betting against Catherine on anything ever again. He barely stopped long enough to grab a towel before his mad dash led him to the bathroom, where he jumped into the most tepid shower of his life.
~*~*~*~
"Did you see how Nick was walking?" Sara asked over breakfast.
"You guys are way too cruel," Warrick said with a laugh. "I don't believe they went through with it."
"Believe it, War," Catherine smirked. "They had no choice."
Brass snorted. "They're a lot more tolerant than I would be."
Grissom decided to abstain from the conversation thus far. Discussing his co-worker's underwear or lack thereof was not exactly his choice of breakfast conversation.
"Nice to know we actually got some work done," he said finally.
Sara rolled her eyes. "Thanks for ruining my fun, Bugman."
"I just have one question," Brass said around a mouthful of eggs. "What do you have in store for them tomorrow?"
~*~*~*~
Greg stared at the assortment awaiting him in his locker.
Why had he ever thought that a bustier was sexy? It pinched and pulled in all the wrong places when he put it on, and giving the relative anatomy of men and women, he knew that something like this had to be equally as uncomfortable for a woman, but it just never registered. It still didn't. Not yet. But, he was beginning to see the light.
His eyes widened as he pulled the thong on. Leopard print, like the top.
"What's black and white and red all over?" Warrick asked as he and Nick walked in to find Greg getting his kit on.
"Don't mess with me," Greg growled, yanking his jeans on with unusual fury.
"You have *got* to be shitting me!" Nick practically yelped as he pulled his fatigues out of his locker.
Warrick laughed. "Velvet. Very nice. I love the color."
"Man - this is a *bra*!"
"Wow, and I thought it had been ages since you'd seen one. Nice to know you still recognize one."
Nick scowled at Warrick. "Can I have some privacy here?"
"Hey - knock yourself out."
Warrick left the locker room with Greg in tow, leaving Nicky to pull on his second thong ever.
*Damn, I'm chafed!*He thought to himself. He wondered if lotion would help.
"Nick! Get a move on!" Catherine called from the doorway. "You ready?"
Nick groaned and pulled his jeans on with a force equal to Greg's. "Cath, go away! I'm serious!"
She walked in and started laughing at the sight of Nick in a bra and his jeans.
"There are some guys - and a few girls - on The Strip who would pay big money to see this."
If looks could kill, Grissom would be investigating the execution of Catherine Willows. Nick hastily jerked his shirt over his head and secured his "FORENSICS" vest over his chest to hide the small lumps the unfilled cups of the padded push-up bra created.
"I *hate* you, Catherine. I loathe you to the very core of your being."
She laughed easily. "If the situation was reversed, you know that you would have put me in something similar. How's the ass?"
"How do you think?" Nick gritted back, but he grinned when Catherine started laughing. "I feel like someone's trying to slice me in half with fishing line."
~*~*~*~
"Greggo!" Sara's voice was lilting, and Greg winced when he saw her standing by the lab door, waiting for him. "Looking good!"
"Shut up, Sara, I'm not in the mood," Greg responded. He'd only had the thong on for five minutes, and already he was in agony. Thongs were not designed for men - for one thing, there was no support. For another, the thin strip attached to the skimpy triangle of material at the front of the thong traveled right up the middle. If he wore these like he wore normal underwear, he would bisect his nuts. After some serious adjusting, Greg had reluctantly just pushed everything to the side, gritted his teeth against the discomfort, and slowly started down the hallway. Thank God he was wearing baggy jeans.
Sara watched the younger man's deliberate movements as he inched down the hallway, and felt a brief flash of sympathy, before the humor of it got the better of her.
"Now, Greggo, is that any way to talk to me?" she teased, "Especially when I've brought you something?"
"If it's made out of lace, vinyl or nylon - forget it. Catherine already left me something in the locker room."
"Yeah - I know - Leopard print," Sara responded cheerfully, "We thought it would bring out the beast in you!" She laughed at Greg's unamused snort, and followed him slowly into the lab. "Actually, I thought you might have heat rash from the vinyl yesterday, so I brought you some Gold Bond anti- itch powder with menthol."
"You're all heart, Sara!" Greg muttered, gingerly sliding his butt up onto the lab stool. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"It'll help with the burn," Sara explained, grinning even wider when Greg blushed a furious red. "I don't think I need to elucidate." She patted him in mock sympathy on the shoulder, "Just think - only one more day after today, and you'll never have to wear women's underwear again!"
"Thank God!" Greg muttered, as he read the powder bottle. "Will this really work?"
Sara shrugged, "Cath said baby powder would help - she should know."
"You going to let Nick in on this?"
"Nope," Sara responded, "He's the one that started the whole ridiculous bet. I think he needs to learn a lesson."
Greg grinned - an honest grin - a happy, evil grin - "Good. That red velvet thong you guys left for him is going to drive him batty. I want him to suffer!"
Sara patted him on the shoulder again, before quickly looking at her watch. "Oh, don't worry - he's suffering! I gotta go - the break room is calling me. Catch you later, Tarzan!"
Greg watched her retreating back, torn between scowling at her and laughing. Shaking his head and sighing, he looked at the Gold Bond again, quickly reading the back. He hoped it worked.
~*~*~*~
Everyone was in the break room when Grissom walked in. Quickly scanning his team, he noticed the grins Sara, Catherine and Warrick were all sporting, and turned to face the source of their amusement. Nick was leaning uncomfortably against the counter, shoulders hunched inward, tight lines bracketing his mouth and a thin sheen a sweat beading his forehead.
Grissom half-smiled, "You okay, Nicky? You look like hell."
"Fine Griss," the younger man muttered.
"Why are you all hunched over like that? Chest hurt?"
"The girls have me in a bra today. When I straighten up, the straps dig into my shoulders." Nick stated this calmly, ignoring the amused laughter of the other three team members.
"That explains the protective vest," Grissom remarked dryly, even as his eyes flashed their amusement. "You going to be able to work alright?"
"Yep," Nick responded gamely, "I'll be just fine."
"Good - you and Sara are together - home invasion. Brass is waiting for you." He handed Nick the slip of paper and shook his head as he watched the younger man push off from the counter, wincing as he did so and surreptitiously trying to shift his thong around. "Only one more day to go, Nicky."
Nick grimaced at him, "That's what I keep telling myself." Turning to Sara, he grinned ruefully, "You ready?"
"Race you to the Tahoe, Hop-a-long!" she responded.
Nick just groaned, "Funny, Sidle."
Grissom smirked again and turned to Catherine and Warrick when he heard a howl of pain coming from the lab, quickly followed by a frantic Greg running down the hallway towards the locker room.
Quirking his eyebrow at Catherine, he handed her the paper in his hand.
"Here, Cath. The assignment's there. You and Warrick. I better go see what that was all about." Exiting the break room, he headed down the hallway, following the strong smell of menthol and the sound of Greg's muffled curses. The younger lab tech was standing half-naked in front of his locker, frantically trying to peel out of the leopard print bustier. At least Grissom assumed it was leopard print, as he had heard the girls laughing about it earlier. Right at this moment it was covered in powder, as was Greg. Menthol smelling powder.
Grissom frowned as he quickly noted the hectic red flush on the skin of the younger man's face and neck. He assumed that the flush continued down his chest underneath all that white.
"Greg? What's wrong?"
"Damn that Sara! Damn her!" Greg had finally managed to pry the bustier off, and turned to face Grissom. The skin underneath the bustier was not as powder-covered as the rest of him, and Grissom gasped at the livid red rash that was forming quickly on his chest. His face was red and it looked like he was trying to not cry from pain.
"What the hell happened?"
Greg just shook his head, and grabbed a clean t-shirt from his locker, frantically rubbing it all over his chest, trying to wipe away the powder. His frenzied rubbing caused some of the blisters that had formed to break and bleed.
"Greg, stop! Stop it!" Grissom quickly stepped forward, grabbing Greg's hands and holding them firmly. "Whatever you put on there is turning caustic! You're not rubbing the powder off - you're rubbing it in!"
"It's burning! Jeez, stop it, Grissom!" Greg's brown eyes pleaded with him to stop the pain.
Grissom looked frantically around the locker room, spying a towel and grabbing it. "Go jump in the shower and start rinsing it off - I'll try to find something to neutralize the burning. What is this shit?"
"Gold-Bond Anti-Itch with Menthol. Sara told me it would help!"
"Sara? Why would she tell you that?"
"Because she's a mean, vindictive little bi-"
"Greg!"
Greg stopped short before completing his sentence. Grissom sighed.
"Sara wouldn't purposely hurt you. Shower - tepid - now. Rinse this off. I'll be back in a minute."
Grissom found a small carton of milk in the refrigerator with Sara's name on it. He figured it was penance. Grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket, he flipped it open and called Sara.
"You trying to kill Greg, Sara?" he asked conversationally as he headed back to the locker room. He smiled grimly as he reached the shower stall. "Here Greg - this will neutralize the burning. Pour some in your hands and smooth it on. What Sara? That powder you gave Greg? He's having an allergic reaction to it - he's broken out in blisters. What were you thinking?"
"I had no idea that would happen, Grissom. Seriously, I thought I was helping. Cath said baby-powder would lessen the itching."
"Baby powder, Sara. Not Gold Bond Medicated with Menthol - extra strength! He probably already had a heat rash, and the menthol has just exacerbated everything."
"I was just trying to help."
"Well, stop trying to help. I almost had to send him home. Anyway, Greg's off of the underwear for right now. I think he's learned his lesson."
"Tell him I'm sorry, Griss. Really, I am."
"Well, hurry up and break Nick already, because I don't think I can take anymore of his skulking around here."
"Sure. I'm sorry Grissom."
"Tell her she owes me big time!" Greg hollered from the shower stall. "Thank God I didn't dump the stuff down my pants - I wouldn't be quite so forgiving!"
Grissom smiled into the phone, "You heard that, Sara? Good. Talk to you later." Hanging up the phone, he stood silently outside the shower stall for a minute, before asking rather tentatively, "You feeling better, Greg?"
"A little," Greg muttered. "I think I'm going to apply for hazard pay, though."
The wry comment forced a sharp laugh from Grissom, "Hazard pay?"
"Well, yeah. Between Sara trying to burn my skin off and you infecting me with foot fungus whenever the whim grabs you, I think I deserve it. Got anymore of that cortisone cream?"
~*~*~*~
Sara closed her phone and walked slowly over to Nick, noting how he eased his way down to snap a photo of a footprint.
"Whatcha got there, Nicky?"
Nicky looked up at her. "What? No nicknames? Are you sure you don't want to call me 'Kitty' or 'Bunny' or 'Hop-Along' or 'Vicky' or something? Are you sure? 'Cause I'm starting to get suspicious whenever you call me by my first name any more."
"Okay, Dr. Frankenfurter. Calm down. Geez. What'd you-"
"I've got a footprint. Okay?"
"O-kay!" Sara crossed her arms and stared down at him. *Well, Grissom did say to break him.*
"Sara - could you get me the plaster? I want to make a mold of this."
"Go get it yourself, RuPaul. I'm dusting for prints."
With a flip of her hair, Sara waltzed off to the door of the house pulling out the Red Creeper and smiling when she heard Nick curse her out under his breath.
"What was that, Tinkerbell? Didn't quite catch that!" she turned to look at Nick over her shoulder, enjoying the sight of him rising gingerly to his feet and shaking his ass as he tried to dislodge the underwear. Nick turned to glare at her, but stopped when he noticed the shadow moving along the wall to her left.
"Sara," his voice was tense, "could you come here for a second please? I have something I need to show you."
"As appealing as that sounds," Sara started teasing, stopping only when she noticed Nick's tight expression. His eyes were locked over her shoulder. Suddenly nervous, she took a couple of steps towards him.
Nick moved closer to her, lifting his maglight and shining it along the back alley when she was within arms reach of him. "Brass!" he hollered suddenly, "I think we got a visitor!"
And that's when all hell broke loose. Sara was almost knocked off her feet as a man jumped out from the shadows and pushed by her. Before she could react, Nick was hot on his heels. Brass has come running in from a different direction, alerted by Nick's shout. The pursuit was on.
Sara would have laughed at the absurdity of it if she wasn't worried about Nick. He was quite a bit ahead of the rest of them, gaining ground on the fleeing suspect. Sara hoped the man wasn't armed. Quickly regaining her equilibrium, she hustled past a puffing Brass just in time to see Nick tackle the man to the ground.
"Don't move! Stay where you are!" She hollered as she ran up to Nick, drawing her gun. "Nice grab, Nicky!"
"Thanks," Nick grunted.
Brass came up behind them, quickly cuffing the suspect. "Way to hustle, Pollyanna!"
"Yeah," Nick's mouth was tight, a thin sheen of sweat marring his forehead, as he slowly stood to his feet. "I think I garroted my nuts." He grimaced at Sara's stifled snort, "I can't take this anymore." Reaching into the side of his pants, he grabbed the thin leg strap digging into his hip and snapped it in half, before repeating the process on the other side. Shaking his head ruefully at Sara's large grin, he shimmied slightly and pulled the velour thong out of his pants. "I hope you didn't want to keep these, Sara."
Sara laughed, "Oh. Brave boy - going 'Commando' in those tight jeans."
"Couldn't be any worse than these," Nick muttered. "Too bad I couldn't get rid of the bra as easily."
The young man handcuffed to the left of Brass shook his head, "Yo, yo! What type of crazy-assed uniforms they making you cops wear?"
Nick actually growled at the man in response and shuffled back to the Tahoe.
"What's wrong with him?" Brass asked as one of his deputies led the perpetrator away.
Sara shrugged, than started to laugh at the remembrance of Nick running, legs almost as bowed as Grissom's, as he tried to avoid doing serious damage to himself during the chase.
~*~*~*~
Nick practically limped into the lab at the end of the night. Every step was a part of a strange cadence of raw sweaty flesh rubbing against raw sweaty flesh.
The fact that he had nothing between himself and itchy tight jeans with exaggerated stitches that seemed to be branding themselves into the crevice of his butt did nothing to improve his humor.
Sara walking behind him and noting the halting steps with fiendish glee didn't help him any, either.
"Let's get these prints to the lab, Nick. Then you can sit down-or-whatever and have a little rest."
Nick glared at her and hitched his way to the lab, determined to keep his outward show of discomfort at a minimum.
"When this is all over with, Sara, I'm going to give you the biggest wedgie you've ever experienced."
"I'd get you back."
"Won't matter. I'm still going to do it."
"I won't let you."
"You won't see it coming."
"I'll see it coming."
"No you won't."
"Yes I will."
They were almost at the door to the Print Lab.
"You will not."
"I will too."
"I'm going to sneak up on you and give you the wedgie of your nightmares, and you aren't going to even know what happened until it's all over with."
"You won't even be able to touch me, so instead of talking nightmares, maybe you ought to be talking dreams."
Nick walked in the door of the Print Lab and slammed it in Sara's face.
"How did I manage to do that, then? Huh?" he hollered at her through the closed door.
Sara merely laughed.
~*~*~*~
Sitting in the DNA lab, Greg saw Nick walking gingerly through the hallway and sympathized, to a point.
But his chest was still burning a little from the menthol, and he was still mad about Nick getting him into this mess in the first place.
Lifting up the green bottle of powder, Greg grinned wickedly as he left his lab and followed Nick into the breakroom.
"Chafed, Nick?"
"Sure am," the older man admitted, inching himself into a sitting position in the breakroom chair.
"Well, Sara gave me this powder earlier and told me not to say anything about it to you, but I think it would be mean to keep it from my best friend." *Not exactly the truth, he used to be, but not any more. Not after he got me into this situation.*
"That Sara is just mean," Nick grumbled, grabbing the bottle. *Menthol. That sounds soothing. My skin burns!* "Thanks, Greggo. You're a good friend!"
"Just don't tell her, though."
"Man, I'm not talking to Sara any more. Don't think I ever will again!"
"Good for you, Nick!"
Greg grinned evilly as Nick made his way down the hall towards the locker room, scratching the itchy places on his chest from the bra as he went.
~*~*~*~
Grissom sat in his office doing his crossword puzzle.
"Daiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Greg! I'm gonna kill you!"
Grissom lifted his head at the sound of Nicky yelling obscenities from the locker room.
Standing calmly, he went to the break room and grabbed the carton of milk and walked down the hall mumbling, "Here we go again" under his breath.
TBC __________________________
AN: Zheidi: I feel I need to say a few words before I begin this new chapter. This is not, I repeat *NOT* a fic where romance is even remotely going to enter into the picture, save a little harmless flirting between Catherine, Sara, and their unfortunate victims. (Okay, and a little Cath and Warrick flirting, but they do it anyway. We can't stop them. They've taken on a life of their own.) There are many excellent fics on this site that cater to the romantic in all of us. This is just Mich's and my way of getting Greggo and Nicky in sexy panties. That's all. We're certifiable.
Michmak: In case anyone is wondering, Gold-Bond Menthol Extra Strength can really burn when applied to the wrong places. I wouldn't recommend testing this theory. DO NOT EXPERIMENT AT HOME. You've been warned.