~*~*~*~ Part IV ~*~*~*~
Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It seemed as though every nerve ending in his body took up root and planted themselves in his butt. Thanks to Greg, his mild rash had turned into a runny gaping wound, and Grissom's oatmeal lotion did very little to relieve the discomfort.
"Primum Non Nocere," he muttered under his breath as he found a parking place. "That Greg is going to pay big time. I'll have him flying the Unfriendly Skies for what he did to me."
The parking place was in front of the grocery store he frequented. Nick recognized his rash as something he saw on his nephew a few months ago while visiting his family in Texas.
Admitting that he, a grown man, could have diaper rash was more than humiliating, but given the fact that he received such a rash while wearing women's underpants made it unbearable.
What he hoped to do was go in, pick up a tube of Desenex, buy a few other groceries, and hope that the clerk didn't notice that he, a single person, was buying a baby care product.
He snuck over to the entrance of the correct aisle. The one he had avoided since he first knew it existed. The one that sold pampers and rattles and. . . *gulp*. . .TAMPONS!
Nick took a deep breath at the opening of the aisle and steeled himself. It was four in the morning. Who would be here? And why would a pregnancy testing kit be next to baby wipes? Shouldn't they be next to condoms? Oh - never mind. They were there, too.
"Sir, are you finding everything all right?" A young man at Nick's elbow asked.
"Uh, yes," Nick answered, really laying on the southern accent, hoping it would make him seem guileless. "I'm just trying to find the diaper rash cream?" Who said that you couldn't stretch a word like 'Diaper' out into five syllables?
"Oh - it's right down there. Do you know which kind your wife asked you for?"
*Thank GOD he thinks I'm married!* "Uh - Desenex."
"There are natural herbal ones."
"Desenex. That's what kind we use." *And by 'we', I mean me and my butt cheeks.*
"Well, it's right there. On special, too. Do you have your coupon?"
*Hell, man! I don't want a friggin' coupon! I just want to get out of here!* "That's all right. I don't need a coupon. I just want the Desenex. Thank you."
Nick walked away, hoping that the young man couldn't see his limp.
*If I ever get my hands on that Greg - Justice Is Served!*
Nick picked up a few other items - Cream of Wheat, butter and milk, and made his way to the cash register. At this hour, there was only one open, and he almost threw in the towel completely. The checkout clerk was none other than Michelle. A brown-haired brown-eyed beauty with a smile that could melt butter at sixty yards.
"Hi, Nick," she said, her white teeth showing through pretty pink lipgloss.
"Hi, Michelle." He kept the accent thick. Girls like Michelle went bonkers over it. Usually.
"You just getting off work?"
He smiled nervously. "Gotta love the graveyard shift."
"Me too. I'm almost done here, just waiting for my replacement to come in."
She scanned the cream of wheat while looking at him, oh please God, let her do the same with the Desenex!
"Were you thinking about going out for breakfast?" *Look, if she turns you down, at least she could be too distracted to look at the cream.*
"I was thinking about it-"
They suddenly both jumped when a beeper sounded and then looked down at her hands. The box of diaper rash cream proved to be the culprit. Michelle turned it over a few times, trying to justify it's presence in Nick's basket.
*Damn the Desenex company!*
"I don't know why this beeped. . ." She looked up at him with wide searching eyes that clearly said, 'Didn't you just ask me out to breakfast, you married son of a bitch?'
Nick started sweating. "It's for my neighbor lady." *You always were a terrible liar.* "She called me and asked me to pick some up for her. I guess her baby has a pretty bad rash, and she and her husband only have one car, and I guess he has it right now."
Michelle raised an eyebrow.
"I don't have kids or a wife. I swear."
Michelle took in Nick's grocery list. A quart of milk, a small box of cereal, only one box of butter, a bottle of water. Definitely not the purchases of a man with family. She smiled. "It's all right. For some reason, the number isn't coming up on the box, but I can type it in. So, about breakfast."
*Who is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Super Nicky!*
~*~*~*~
Greg's own whimpering woke him up. Groaning, he gingerly rolled over onto his side and looked at his alarm clock. One hour until work. One more hour until he would once again star in his own personal version of 'Les Cages aux Faux'. Sighing grimly, he flipped on the reading lamp by his bed and gingerly peeled his sheets from his chest, grimacing as the cotton pulled his raw skin where it had adhered to the rash, and reached for the tube of cortisone cream Grissom had given him. He could not begin to imagine what torture device the girls would have for him tonight. It didn't bear thinking about. Just the thought of another thong made him wince and clench his butt cheeks in denial.
He had held out the brief flickering hope earlier that morning that he would be able to forgo day three of this humiliation. Sara had felt so badly about the whole Gold Bond incident he thought maybe he would be let off the hook. She had come to find him in the lab, all contrite and apologetic as she explained seriously she had no idea the menthol would burn him. Seeing his opportunity, Greg had used his best Bambi eyes on her, wincing in exaggeration every time he moved, and basically playing up his agony to the hilt.
Would have worked too - Sara was thisclose to agreeing that Greg had suffered enough when Nick's painful yelps had caught her attention. She had watched with narrowed eyes as Grissom had wandered down the hallway towards the locker room, face aggrieved, a carton of milk in his hands, before turning back to Greg. "You gave Nick the Gold Bond?" her voice had been saccharine sweet, and Greg knew - just knew - he had blown it.
Shaking his head, he had sighed, "I couldn't help it. He's the one that got me into this mess in the first place!"
"After all the grief you've just giving me about how much it hurt, and how you think the scarring will fade in time - and you turn around and give the stuff to Nick?" Sara shook her head in disbelief her brown eyes unable to comprehend such an unthinkable act. "You are evil, Greg! E-V-I-L - Evil! At least I didn't know what it would do to you."
The two stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other and listening to Nick's muffled curses, and the soothing mumble of Grissom's voice floating down the hallway. Sara cocked an eyebrow at Greg; Greg cocked an eyebrow in return. It didn't help matters any when Grissom stuck his head in the lab a few moments later, blue eyes grim, as he informed them he had to run across the street to the convenience store.
"Nick needs more milk," he had muttered, glaring at the two of them accusingly, "Seems he applied the Gold Bond liberally to the seat of his jeans!"
Greg bowed his head in shame. "I was mad at him."
Sara patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Greg. I forgive you."
Greg hoped Nick would.
~*~*~*~
The Dessenex was like paste. Nick felt like his butt cheeks had been glued together, and the feeling was not a comfortable one. Wincing, he slid out of his truck and made his way slowly into the lab, absolutely dreading what the girls had in store for him tonight.. He knew it was going to be bad when he saw Catherine, Sara and Warrick loitering at the entrance of the break room, grinning like idiots when they saw him limping down the hallway.
"Nicky! You're here!" Catherine's voice rang out down the hallway, "And you're walking a little better then you did when you left this morning. Did you try the Sitz Bath with Epsom like I suggested?"
Nick just grunted and hitched his way slowly past his supposed friends towards the coffee machine, trying to ignore Warrick's laughter.
"Sitz bath? You mean one of those things you fill with tepid water, prop on the toilet, and rest your ass in? Oh man!"
Nick glared at him, "Allow me to retain what little dignity I have left! Besides which, it's bad enough I had to buy -" he paused mid-sentence and turned red. "Uh - never mind."
Turning his head slightly, he saw Greg sitting at the table, fingers nervously drumming the table. The younger man paled slightly at Nick's intense gaze, and smiled weakly, "Hey man, how's the rash?"
"It's a piece of art. I call it Anatomy of a Lye," Nick responded grimly. "As soon as I feel up to it, I'm gonna kill you - death by mentholated Gold Bond."
Greg smiled nervously. "Just satisfy your Blood Lust, Nick. I'm sorry. Really, I am."
Pouring himself a coffee, Nick gulped it back without adding his normal copious amounts of cream and sugar, "So girls. Let's get this over with - what do you have planned for tonight?"
Catherine and Sara just grinned at each other, "Well, we though we'd be nice and give you non-thong underwear, considering the - ah - rash you've apparently developed, Nicky."
"You too, Greggo," Sara added, "No bustiers or bras for you tonight."
Catherine reached into a bag that had been sitting just inside the break room door. "This is for you, Greg."
Greg eyed the garment suspiciously, taking it from Catherine as if it was about to bite him. "What is this?"
"It's a purple satin teddy," Sara cooed, "because purple is your color."
"Cripes!" Greg muttered, inspecting the teddy more closely, "It snaps at the crotch!"
"At least it's soft," Nick muttered at him, "No itchy lace! Do I get satin too?"
"You sure do, Nicky," Catherine cooed, as she handed him the bag, "Satin and silk."
Nick rolled his eyes at her flirtatious tone, "This I gotta see."
Sara tried not to giggle as Nick reached into the bag and retrieved the first part of his outfit. The honest-to-God shock on his face was something else. "What the hell is this?"
"Silk stockings, Nicky," she replied, "Hot pink, just for you. There's a matching Merry Widow in there for you to attach them too."
"Merry Widow?"
Warrick snorted, "C'mon! Mr. Ladies Man doesn't know what a Merry Widow is? You know - one of those sexy little bustier numbers with garters hanging off them? Can be worn with or without underwear?"
"This one comes with satin panties," Catherine added, "Won't irritate your -"
"Alright, already!" Nick scowled, "I get the picture!"
He retrieved the Merry Widow from the bag, noting humorlessly that it did - indeed - match the stockings. Hot pink. The color reminded him of Pepto- Bismol - something he figured he was going to need a whole bottle of by the end of shift. Nick shuddered as he fingered the satin panties.
"A Stalker and stockings in less than 12 months? This hasn't been my year. Thank God I opted for relaxed fit jeans tonight!"
Greg let out a groan. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have the thongs again. They're real Organ Grinders."
Sara smiled at him. "Tell me something, Greggo. Your ideal woman. Is she a tall blonde named Heidi, who enjoys wearing Lederhosen?"
"As long as Lederhosen are leather pants, yes."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Good luck finding her."
"Thank you, Sara." He looked up from the teddy. "I appreciate that. Just for you, I'm going to find her."
"Find her by Friday night," Catherine admonished. "Party at my house. Celebrating yours and Nick's liberation from female lingerie."
Greg picked up his teddy and stalked off to the locker room, mumbling to himself about If These Walls Could Talk and Letting the Seller Beware before pushing underwear like this.
Nick smiled. One more day. Just one more day.
~*~*~*~
Ecklie wandered into Grissom's office.
"Hey, Ecklie. What are you still doing here?"
"Well, Gil, some disturbing information came my way about your shift. I understand that Stokes and Sanders have been wearing women's underwear?"
Grissom looked up with a half-smile on his face. "Well. . ."
Nick went hitching by Grissom's office, securing his pants.
"Nick? What are you doing?" Grissom asked.
"I had to go find Catherine."
"Why?"
Nick sighed, looking at Ecklie. "I wasn't sure about something."
"What's that, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.
"None of your god-dammed business, Ecklie!"
"Nick - Ecklie's just asking a question."
Nick opened his pants to reveal his hot-pink panties, garters, and stockings. "I couldn't figure out how to attach the stockings."
Both Grissom and Ecklie broke into peals of laughter.
"You're just a sweet transvestite, aren't you, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.
"Watch yourself, Ecklie!" Nick hissed.
"Yeah, Conrad. He's a lumberjack, and he's okay."
Ecklie couldn't help himself. "Gil! No! Don't say that!"
Nick frowned as both men started singing the song.
"I chop down trees I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!"
"Funny, guys. Really funny."
"Nick - the way you've been limping around here from the thongs, I think we're going to sign you up for the Ministry of Silly Walks," Ecklie chortled.
Grissom couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah. Mr. Gumby thinks you'll be a hit."
"And now for something completely different," Ecklie snorted, pointing at Nick.
"Nudge, nudge, wink, wink - say no more!" Both men were howling, and the uncontrollable laughter was drawing a crowd of gawking employees. Grissom and Ecklie, actually in a room together without arguing? Had the space/time continuum just gone Boom?
The object of their mirth was staring daggers at them, his smile grim, "Are you both having a bonding moment over the fact that I'm in women's panties? You think this is funny?"
"Nee!" said Grissom. Ecklie snorted back, nodding his head in agreement, "Nee!"
Nick rolled his eyes, "If you two hold hands and start singing Kumbi- fucking-ya, I think I'll have to commit A Little Murder."
Grissom and Ecklie tried to stop laughing as they both turned to look at Nick. The younger man was flushed red with embarrassment, his jaw tight. Ecklie turned back to Grissom and snickered, "We're dead, Grissom. Bleeding deceased. Ex-criminalists."
The laughing started up again. Grissom could hardly choke out, "Bereft of life! Pushing up daisies! Joined the bleeding choir invisible!"
Neither noticed Nick as he tried not to grin at their obvious mirth and turned on his heel, limping out of the office.
"Do you have the commemorative edition of "The Holy Grail"?" Grissom asked Ecklie, when he was finally able to speak coherently again.
Ecklie nodded. "I was first in line at our Best Buy when it came out. I wanted that movie on DVD since before the DVD was even invented!"
"I started cultivating shrubberies because of that movie."
"Can you believe - over a hundred hours of extras!"
"Tell me about it! Live concerts! Interviews! It took me three days to watch it."
"Drove my wife crazy," Ecklie admitted.
"You ever seen 'The Life of Brian' on DVD?"
~*~*~*~
The snaps in Greg's teddy kept coming undone. But only one at a time.
It was rather uncomfortable. One snap would go out of the four, and everything that it was holding back would come snaking out of the hole it left.
Greg would then look around, make sure no one could see, then pinch the snap back together discreetly, hoping no one had seen him touching that area of his anatomy in public. So far, he hadn't snapped anything he shouldn't have, for which he was eternally grateful.
How did women do this? He shifted to the left slightly, and felt another snap give. *Shit! This is getting ridiculous!* He adjusted his lab coat and quickly re-snapped, *I'm Pledging, Mr. Johnson, never to put you in a position of such discomfort ever again!* he muttered to himself. *At least the satin doesn't itch.*
Warrick had dropped off some DNA samples earlier, and Greg was glad for the work. He found the normal routine calming, and because he had run the tests so many times, he knew them by rote - there wasn't a lot of thinking involved in the initial stages. Picking up the most recent addition of Stuff Magazine, he winced as he flipped through it. He felt sorry for the models in the 'Sexiest Lingerie for 2003' spread. He paused and gawked at a particularly uncomfortable looking full French lace body suit that ran in one seemingly seamless piece from toes to top. THAT looked damn itchy.
Lost in thought, he didn't even realize that Nick had snuck up behind him in the lab until the older man clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly, "Greggo."
Greg yelped and jumped off his stool, the sounds of the snaps giving way in the crotch of his teddy sounding like cap guns. The pinching sensation quickly turned to a full-throttled crushing effect, and Greg almost doubled over in pain.
"Jesus, Nick! Did you need to do that?" Greg gasped, his face pale and blotchy at the same time, "I just gave myself a wedgie."
"Good," Nick replied, smirking, "and I hope it hurt!"
Greg slowly straightened and looked around the lab nervously. From his vantage point, he saw absolutely no one in the hallway. If Nick was really serious about killing him, now was the perfect opportunity. He could tell by the sudden glint in Nick's eyes that the older CSI knew this too.
"Anything you want to say to me, lab boy?" he drawled, "Any famous last words?"
"Gentle, Gentle!" Greg pleaded, "You're not really gonna hurt me, are you? I've apologized! I'm really sorry!"
"Do you know where I was this morning, Greggo?" Nick muttered, not bothering to even wait for a response, "I was in the Quik-E-Mart buying diaper rash ointment for myself! And it's your fault!"
Greg shook his head frantically, "No! No it's not! It's Sara and Catherine's fault - they're the ones forcing us to wear this crap! Do you really think the Gold Bond would have bothered you or me if we weren't already rubbed raw by the shit they're making us wear?" Greg saw that Nick was weakening, and redoubled his efforts to apologize.
"I wasn't rational yesterday when I gave you the powder! I was in pain! The thongs were so tight they cut of the circulation to my brain!"
Nick snorted, "Cut off the circ to your brain, eh? Which one?"
Greg smiled ruefully, "I really am sorry, Nick. I owe you."
Nick looked at Greg intently, before letting his normal smile touch his face. Releasing the tight grip he had on Greg's shoulder, he replied, "That's all right, Greggo. I'll forgive you. You were under duress - and I'm partly responsible for your involvement in this whole mess. Besides which, I've got bigger fish to fry." Turning his head slightly, he indicated with a quick flick of his eyes Sara and Catherine as they walked by out in the hallway. "We have to get them back. You in?"
Greg paled, "Haven't you learned your lesson? We can't beat them. I don't want to have to wear women's underwear ever again!"
Nick just smiled, "Quit whining, Greggo. We have to come up with something fool-proof - something they can't beat us at. We're smart guys - we'll think of something."
Greg just shook his head, "But -"
Nick smirked, "You OWE me, Greg, remember?"
"But -"
"No buts, bro. The girls are going down," Nick's smile was gleeful. "They're at the top of my list! And remember Greggo, Revenge Is Best Served Cold. Catherine taught me that."
___________________________________
AN: Michmak - Okay - this story is winding down. We can only torture Nick and Greg so long, and there are only so many ass/crack jokes you can make before sliding completely over the bounds of good-taste. (hee) For those of you who live somewhere on Mars, the song referenced is Monty Python's "Lumberjack Song":
Lumberjack:
I'm a lumber jack
and I'm okay
I sleep all night
and I work all day
Lumberjack Chorus:
He's a lumber jack
and he's okay
he sleeps all night
and he works all day
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I eat my lunch
I go to the lavor'tree
On Wednesday I go shoppin'
and have butter scones for tea
(Lumberjack chorus Repeats)
(chorus)
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I skip and jump
I like to press wild flowers
I put on women's clothing
and hang around in bars
(Lumberjack chorus repeats..."..bars???")
(Chorus)
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I wear high heels
suspender and a bra
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear PaPa
(Lumberjack chorus repeats... "..bra???")
(chorus with a big finish!)
Lastly, since we're already well into farce here test your CSI knowledge - How many show titles can you find in this chapter?
Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It seemed as though every nerve ending in his body took up root and planted themselves in his butt. Thanks to Greg, his mild rash had turned into a runny gaping wound, and Grissom's oatmeal lotion did very little to relieve the discomfort.
"Primum Non Nocere," he muttered under his breath as he found a parking place. "That Greg is going to pay big time. I'll have him flying the Unfriendly Skies for what he did to me."
The parking place was in front of the grocery store he frequented. Nick recognized his rash as something he saw on his nephew a few months ago while visiting his family in Texas.
Admitting that he, a grown man, could have diaper rash was more than humiliating, but given the fact that he received such a rash while wearing women's underpants made it unbearable.
What he hoped to do was go in, pick up a tube of Desenex, buy a few other groceries, and hope that the clerk didn't notice that he, a single person, was buying a baby care product.
He snuck over to the entrance of the correct aisle. The one he had avoided since he first knew it existed. The one that sold pampers and rattles and. . . *gulp*. . .TAMPONS!
Nick took a deep breath at the opening of the aisle and steeled himself. It was four in the morning. Who would be here? And why would a pregnancy testing kit be next to baby wipes? Shouldn't they be next to condoms? Oh - never mind. They were there, too.
"Sir, are you finding everything all right?" A young man at Nick's elbow asked.
"Uh, yes," Nick answered, really laying on the southern accent, hoping it would make him seem guileless. "I'm just trying to find the diaper rash cream?" Who said that you couldn't stretch a word like 'Diaper' out into five syllables?
"Oh - it's right down there. Do you know which kind your wife asked you for?"
*Thank GOD he thinks I'm married!* "Uh - Desenex."
"There are natural herbal ones."
"Desenex. That's what kind we use." *And by 'we', I mean me and my butt cheeks.*
"Well, it's right there. On special, too. Do you have your coupon?"
*Hell, man! I don't want a friggin' coupon! I just want to get out of here!* "That's all right. I don't need a coupon. I just want the Desenex. Thank you."
Nick walked away, hoping that the young man couldn't see his limp.
*If I ever get my hands on that Greg - Justice Is Served!*
Nick picked up a few other items - Cream of Wheat, butter and milk, and made his way to the cash register. At this hour, there was only one open, and he almost threw in the towel completely. The checkout clerk was none other than Michelle. A brown-haired brown-eyed beauty with a smile that could melt butter at sixty yards.
"Hi, Nick," she said, her white teeth showing through pretty pink lipgloss.
"Hi, Michelle." He kept the accent thick. Girls like Michelle went bonkers over it. Usually.
"You just getting off work?"
He smiled nervously. "Gotta love the graveyard shift."
"Me too. I'm almost done here, just waiting for my replacement to come in."
She scanned the cream of wheat while looking at him, oh please God, let her do the same with the Desenex!
"Were you thinking about going out for breakfast?" *Look, if she turns you down, at least she could be too distracted to look at the cream.*
"I was thinking about it-"
They suddenly both jumped when a beeper sounded and then looked down at her hands. The box of diaper rash cream proved to be the culprit. Michelle turned it over a few times, trying to justify it's presence in Nick's basket.
*Damn the Desenex company!*
"I don't know why this beeped. . ." She looked up at him with wide searching eyes that clearly said, 'Didn't you just ask me out to breakfast, you married son of a bitch?'
Nick started sweating. "It's for my neighbor lady." *You always were a terrible liar.* "She called me and asked me to pick some up for her. I guess her baby has a pretty bad rash, and she and her husband only have one car, and I guess he has it right now."
Michelle raised an eyebrow.
"I don't have kids or a wife. I swear."
Michelle took in Nick's grocery list. A quart of milk, a small box of cereal, only one box of butter, a bottle of water. Definitely not the purchases of a man with family. She smiled. "It's all right. For some reason, the number isn't coming up on the box, but I can type it in. So, about breakfast."
*Who is able to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Super Nicky!*
~*~*~*~
Greg's own whimpering woke him up. Groaning, he gingerly rolled over onto his side and looked at his alarm clock. One hour until work. One more hour until he would once again star in his own personal version of 'Les Cages aux Faux'. Sighing grimly, he flipped on the reading lamp by his bed and gingerly peeled his sheets from his chest, grimacing as the cotton pulled his raw skin where it had adhered to the rash, and reached for the tube of cortisone cream Grissom had given him. He could not begin to imagine what torture device the girls would have for him tonight. It didn't bear thinking about. Just the thought of another thong made him wince and clench his butt cheeks in denial.
He had held out the brief flickering hope earlier that morning that he would be able to forgo day three of this humiliation. Sara had felt so badly about the whole Gold Bond incident he thought maybe he would be let off the hook. She had come to find him in the lab, all contrite and apologetic as she explained seriously she had no idea the menthol would burn him. Seeing his opportunity, Greg had used his best Bambi eyes on her, wincing in exaggeration every time he moved, and basically playing up his agony to the hilt.
Would have worked too - Sara was thisclose to agreeing that Greg had suffered enough when Nick's painful yelps had caught her attention. She had watched with narrowed eyes as Grissom had wandered down the hallway towards the locker room, face aggrieved, a carton of milk in his hands, before turning back to Greg. "You gave Nick the Gold Bond?" her voice had been saccharine sweet, and Greg knew - just knew - he had blown it.
Shaking his head, he had sighed, "I couldn't help it. He's the one that got me into this mess in the first place!"
"After all the grief you've just giving me about how much it hurt, and how you think the scarring will fade in time - and you turn around and give the stuff to Nick?" Sara shook her head in disbelief her brown eyes unable to comprehend such an unthinkable act. "You are evil, Greg! E-V-I-L - Evil! At least I didn't know what it would do to you."
The two stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at each other and listening to Nick's muffled curses, and the soothing mumble of Grissom's voice floating down the hallway. Sara cocked an eyebrow at Greg; Greg cocked an eyebrow in return. It didn't help matters any when Grissom stuck his head in the lab a few moments later, blue eyes grim, as he informed them he had to run across the street to the convenience store.
"Nick needs more milk," he had muttered, glaring at the two of them accusingly, "Seems he applied the Gold Bond liberally to the seat of his jeans!"
Greg bowed his head in shame. "I was mad at him."
Sara patted his shoulder. "It's all right, Greg. I forgive you."
Greg hoped Nick would.
~*~*~*~
The Dessenex was like paste. Nick felt like his butt cheeks had been glued together, and the feeling was not a comfortable one. Wincing, he slid out of his truck and made his way slowly into the lab, absolutely dreading what the girls had in store for him tonight.. He knew it was going to be bad when he saw Catherine, Sara and Warrick loitering at the entrance of the break room, grinning like idiots when they saw him limping down the hallway.
"Nicky! You're here!" Catherine's voice rang out down the hallway, "And you're walking a little better then you did when you left this morning. Did you try the Sitz Bath with Epsom like I suggested?"
Nick just grunted and hitched his way slowly past his supposed friends towards the coffee machine, trying to ignore Warrick's laughter.
"Sitz bath? You mean one of those things you fill with tepid water, prop on the toilet, and rest your ass in? Oh man!"
Nick glared at him, "Allow me to retain what little dignity I have left! Besides which, it's bad enough I had to buy -" he paused mid-sentence and turned red. "Uh - never mind."
Turning his head slightly, he saw Greg sitting at the table, fingers nervously drumming the table. The younger man paled slightly at Nick's intense gaze, and smiled weakly, "Hey man, how's the rash?"
"It's a piece of art. I call it Anatomy of a Lye," Nick responded grimly. "As soon as I feel up to it, I'm gonna kill you - death by mentholated Gold Bond."
Greg smiled nervously. "Just satisfy your Blood Lust, Nick. I'm sorry. Really, I am."
Pouring himself a coffee, Nick gulped it back without adding his normal copious amounts of cream and sugar, "So girls. Let's get this over with - what do you have planned for tonight?"
Catherine and Sara just grinned at each other, "Well, we though we'd be nice and give you non-thong underwear, considering the - ah - rash you've apparently developed, Nicky."
"You too, Greggo," Sara added, "No bustiers or bras for you tonight."
Catherine reached into a bag that had been sitting just inside the break room door. "This is for you, Greg."
Greg eyed the garment suspiciously, taking it from Catherine as if it was about to bite him. "What is this?"
"It's a purple satin teddy," Sara cooed, "because purple is your color."
"Cripes!" Greg muttered, inspecting the teddy more closely, "It snaps at the crotch!"
"At least it's soft," Nick muttered at him, "No itchy lace! Do I get satin too?"
"You sure do, Nicky," Catherine cooed, as she handed him the bag, "Satin and silk."
Nick rolled his eyes at her flirtatious tone, "This I gotta see."
Sara tried not to giggle as Nick reached into the bag and retrieved the first part of his outfit. The honest-to-God shock on his face was something else. "What the hell is this?"
"Silk stockings, Nicky," she replied, "Hot pink, just for you. There's a matching Merry Widow in there for you to attach them too."
"Merry Widow?"
Warrick snorted, "C'mon! Mr. Ladies Man doesn't know what a Merry Widow is? You know - one of those sexy little bustier numbers with garters hanging off them? Can be worn with or without underwear?"
"This one comes with satin panties," Catherine added, "Won't irritate your -"
"Alright, already!" Nick scowled, "I get the picture!"
He retrieved the Merry Widow from the bag, noting humorlessly that it did - indeed - match the stockings. Hot pink. The color reminded him of Pepto- Bismol - something he figured he was going to need a whole bottle of by the end of shift. Nick shuddered as he fingered the satin panties.
"A Stalker and stockings in less than 12 months? This hasn't been my year. Thank God I opted for relaxed fit jeans tonight!"
Greg let out a groan. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have the thongs again. They're real Organ Grinders."
Sara smiled at him. "Tell me something, Greggo. Your ideal woman. Is she a tall blonde named Heidi, who enjoys wearing Lederhosen?"
"As long as Lederhosen are leather pants, yes."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Good luck finding her."
"Thank you, Sara." He looked up from the teddy. "I appreciate that. Just for you, I'm going to find her."
"Find her by Friday night," Catherine admonished. "Party at my house. Celebrating yours and Nick's liberation from female lingerie."
Greg picked up his teddy and stalked off to the locker room, mumbling to himself about If These Walls Could Talk and Letting the Seller Beware before pushing underwear like this.
Nick smiled. One more day. Just one more day.
~*~*~*~
Ecklie wandered into Grissom's office.
"Hey, Ecklie. What are you still doing here?"
"Well, Gil, some disturbing information came my way about your shift. I understand that Stokes and Sanders have been wearing women's underwear?"
Grissom looked up with a half-smile on his face. "Well. . ."
Nick went hitching by Grissom's office, securing his pants.
"Nick? What are you doing?" Grissom asked.
"I had to go find Catherine."
"Why?"
Nick sighed, looking at Ecklie. "I wasn't sure about something."
"What's that, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.
"None of your god-dammed business, Ecklie!"
"Nick - Ecklie's just asking a question."
Nick opened his pants to reveal his hot-pink panties, garters, and stockings. "I couldn't figure out how to attach the stockings."
Both Grissom and Ecklie broke into peals of laughter.
"You're just a sweet transvestite, aren't you, Stokes?" Ecklie asked.
"Watch yourself, Ecklie!" Nick hissed.
"Yeah, Conrad. He's a lumberjack, and he's okay."
Ecklie couldn't help himself. "Gil! No! Don't say that!"
Nick frowned as both men started singing the song.
"I chop down trees I skip and jump, I like to press wild flowers I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!"
"Funny, guys. Really funny."
"Nick - the way you've been limping around here from the thongs, I think we're going to sign you up for the Ministry of Silly Walks," Ecklie chortled.
Grissom couldn't stop laughing. "Yeah. Mr. Gumby thinks you'll be a hit."
"And now for something completely different," Ecklie snorted, pointing at Nick.
"Nudge, nudge, wink, wink - say no more!" Both men were howling, and the uncontrollable laughter was drawing a crowd of gawking employees. Grissom and Ecklie, actually in a room together without arguing? Had the space/time continuum just gone Boom?
The object of their mirth was staring daggers at them, his smile grim, "Are you both having a bonding moment over the fact that I'm in women's panties? You think this is funny?"
"Nee!" said Grissom. Ecklie snorted back, nodding his head in agreement, "Nee!"
Nick rolled his eyes, "If you two hold hands and start singing Kumbi- fucking-ya, I think I'll have to commit A Little Murder."
Grissom and Ecklie tried to stop laughing as they both turned to look at Nick. The younger man was flushed red with embarrassment, his jaw tight. Ecklie turned back to Grissom and snickered, "We're dead, Grissom. Bleeding deceased. Ex-criminalists."
The laughing started up again. Grissom could hardly choke out, "Bereft of life! Pushing up daisies! Joined the bleeding choir invisible!"
Neither noticed Nick as he tried not to grin at their obvious mirth and turned on his heel, limping out of the office.
"Do you have the commemorative edition of "The Holy Grail"?" Grissom asked Ecklie, when he was finally able to speak coherently again.
Ecklie nodded. "I was first in line at our Best Buy when it came out. I wanted that movie on DVD since before the DVD was even invented!"
"I started cultivating shrubberies because of that movie."
"Can you believe - over a hundred hours of extras!"
"Tell me about it! Live concerts! Interviews! It took me three days to watch it."
"Drove my wife crazy," Ecklie admitted.
"You ever seen 'The Life of Brian' on DVD?"
~*~*~*~
The snaps in Greg's teddy kept coming undone. But only one at a time.
It was rather uncomfortable. One snap would go out of the four, and everything that it was holding back would come snaking out of the hole it left.
Greg would then look around, make sure no one could see, then pinch the snap back together discreetly, hoping no one had seen him touching that area of his anatomy in public. So far, he hadn't snapped anything he shouldn't have, for which he was eternally grateful.
How did women do this? He shifted to the left slightly, and felt another snap give. *Shit! This is getting ridiculous!* He adjusted his lab coat and quickly re-snapped, *I'm Pledging, Mr. Johnson, never to put you in a position of such discomfort ever again!* he muttered to himself. *At least the satin doesn't itch.*
Warrick had dropped off some DNA samples earlier, and Greg was glad for the work. He found the normal routine calming, and because he had run the tests so many times, he knew them by rote - there wasn't a lot of thinking involved in the initial stages. Picking up the most recent addition of Stuff Magazine, he winced as he flipped through it. He felt sorry for the models in the 'Sexiest Lingerie for 2003' spread. He paused and gawked at a particularly uncomfortable looking full French lace body suit that ran in one seemingly seamless piece from toes to top. THAT looked damn itchy.
Lost in thought, he didn't even realize that Nick had snuck up behind him in the lab until the older man clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly, "Greggo."
Greg yelped and jumped off his stool, the sounds of the snaps giving way in the crotch of his teddy sounding like cap guns. The pinching sensation quickly turned to a full-throttled crushing effect, and Greg almost doubled over in pain.
"Jesus, Nick! Did you need to do that?" Greg gasped, his face pale and blotchy at the same time, "I just gave myself a wedgie."
"Good," Nick replied, smirking, "and I hope it hurt!"
Greg slowly straightened and looked around the lab nervously. From his vantage point, he saw absolutely no one in the hallway. If Nick was really serious about killing him, now was the perfect opportunity. He could tell by the sudden glint in Nick's eyes that the older CSI knew this too.
"Anything you want to say to me, lab boy?" he drawled, "Any famous last words?"
"Gentle, Gentle!" Greg pleaded, "You're not really gonna hurt me, are you? I've apologized! I'm really sorry!"
"Do you know where I was this morning, Greggo?" Nick muttered, not bothering to even wait for a response, "I was in the Quik-E-Mart buying diaper rash ointment for myself! And it's your fault!"
Greg shook his head frantically, "No! No it's not! It's Sara and Catherine's fault - they're the ones forcing us to wear this crap! Do you really think the Gold Bond would have bothered you or me if we weren't already rubbed raw by the shit they're making us wear?" Greg saw that Nick was weakening, and redoubled his efforts to apologize.
"I wasn't rational yesterday when I gave you the powder! I was in pain! The thongs were so tight they cut of the circulation to my brain!"
Nick snorted, "Cut off the circ to your brain, eh? Which one?"
Greg smiled ruefully, "I really am sorry, Nick. I owe you."
Nick looked at Greg intently, before letting his normal smile touch his face. Releasing the tight grip he had on Greg's shoulder, he replied, "That's all right, Greggo. I'll forgive you. You were under duress - and I'm partly responsible for your involvement in this whole mess. Besides which, I've got bigger fish to fry." Turning his head slightly, he indicated with a quick flick of his eyes Sara and Catherine as they walked by out in the hallway. "We have to get them back. You in?"
Greg paled, "Haven't you learned your lesson? We can't beat them. I don't want to have to wear women's underwear ever again!"
Nick just smiled, "Quit whining, Greggo. We have to come up with something fool-proof - something they can't beat us at. We're smart guys - we'll think of something."
Greg just shook his head, "But -"
Nick smirked, "You OWE me, Greg, remember?"
"But -"
"No buts, bro. The girls are going down," Nick's smile was gleeful. "They're at the top of my list! And remember Greggo, Revenge Is Best Served Cold. Catherine taught me that."
___________________________________
AN: Michmak - Okay - this story is winding down. We can only torture Nick and Greg so long, and there are only so many ass/crack jokes you can make before sliding completely over the bounds of good-taste. (hee) For those of you who live somewhere on Mars, the song referenced is Monty Python's "Lumberjack Song":
Lumberjack:
I'm a lumber jack
and I'm okay
I sleep all night
and I work all day
Lumberjack Chorus:
He's a lumber jack
and he's okay
he sleeps all night
and he works all day
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I eat my lunch
I go to the lavor'tree
On Wednesday I go shoppin'
and have butter scones for tea
(Lumberjack chorus Repeats)
(chorus)
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I skip and jump
I like to press wild flowers
I put on women's clothing
and hang around in bars
(Lumberjack chorus repeats..."..bars???")
(Chorus)
Lumberjack:
I cut down trees
I wear high heels
suspender and a bra
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear PaPa
(Lumberjack chorus repeats... "..bra???")
(chorus with a big finish!)
Lastly, since we're already well into farce here test your CSI knowledge - How many show titles can you find in this chapter?