"You know, this is just weird," Sara commented as she swung the car into a spot near the door of CSI and shifted into park. "Two nights ago, nobody knew about us and we were fighting. Last night, nobody still knew, and I wanted to kill Hank. And now tonight I'm not fighting with anyone and everyone knows about us." She groaned. "I'm feeling that whirlwind coming back."
Grissom eyed her warily. "We are not getting out of this car, Sara, until you get rid of that feeling. Just to remind you, you may not feel like it but you do own your life. If Nick and Warrick start bugging you about something you don't want to talk about, smack them around. Just please, don't come after me at work. I know that sounds bad," he hastily tacked on, "and you can feel free to beat the crap out of me once we get home. But nothing would make things more obvious to troublemakers like Ecklie than a sudden change in our working relationship, and up to now, you've internalized the anger every time I pissed you off. So showing it would be very . . . noteworthy."
She leaned back in her seat and looked at him. "Ok, I see your point. But what about if I make absolutely sure there's no one around to see or hear?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to say firmly, "Not at work, Sara," but his brain managed to run interference just in time. Instead, he smiled slightly at her. "If you're positive there's no one around, well then just make sure the door's locked and you don't leave any bruises on either of us." With that, he undid his seatbelt and climbed out of the car.
Sara gaped at him. "Did you just say that, or am I hallucinating?"
Grissom grinned impertinently. "You seem to have this thing with my car where I have to talk you in and out of it . . . of course I just said it, Sara." He leaned over and tapped playfully on the windshield. "Now move your butt or you're going to make both of us late!"
She growled at him, but got out of the car. Following Grissom toward the entrance doors, Sara very deliberately stepped on the heels of his shoes, one with each step. "Sara," Grissom warned over his shoulder as they passed through the doors. She didn't stop and he tried a firmer tactic. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to . . ."
"Gonna what, buddy? Give me a bad assignment?"
"Exactly, my dear." He smiled and pushed open the door to the breakroom for her, well aware that there were three very interested pairs of eyes watching them. "Or maybe I'll make you work with Nick, and you two can tear each others' hair out."
"Hey!" Sara and Nick protested in unison. Exchanging a comical "jinx" look, they both had to smile. Sara's brow knitted in confusion after a moment, though, as she looked questioningly at Nick, who shrugged innocently. "Why would we do that . . . oh." The smile faded from her face. She pointed a finger at Nick. "I'm still mad at you from this afternoon! Grissom, you wouldn't dare!"
"Try me, Sidle."
Sara knew when she was outgunned. Pursing her lips, she gave Grissom an "I don't care shrug" and poured herself a cup of coffee. Leaning back against the counter and blowing on the hot brew, she contemplated the other four CSIs. No, she wasn't fighting with anyone . . . but she still felt strangely at odds with them. Almost as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
As she thought about dropping shoes, Sara flashed back to that morning and their search for Grissom's clothes – a train of thought which lead inevitably to the memory of pulling a very wet pair of boxers out from under her shower mat, making her choke on a laugh and inhale the sip of coffee she had just taken.
Coughing and choking, she leaned over the sink, head down, trying to get her breath back. After a few seconds, someone gave her a mighty slap on the back and she almost went face-first into the dirty dishes filling the sink. She could just imagine the bruise forming between her shoulder blades, but she had to admit that it had restored her breathing to normal again.
She took a few breaths, assuring herself that everything was functioning normally, then whirled to face the room. "Who did that?" she scowled. "Whoever just hit me, thank you . . . and you better get an ice pack for me, cause that one's going to leave a mark!" The tension was broken, though, and they all settled down at the table in a comfortable atmosphere.
Grissom shuffled through the assignment sheets, considering where to put each person. "Catherine, you and Warrick are still working on that body dump from last night, I see?" Catherine nodded. "Ok. You two stick with that, obviously. Nick," he nodded at the younger man, "I want you to take Sara and harass the techs for results from last night's burglary." He paused to remove his glasses. "You three didn't have a lot of luck clearing your cases last night, huh?"
Catherine threw a piece of her bagel at him, which he neatly ducked. "Yeah well maybe if we hadn't been missing two CSIs, we'd have done a little better," she told him sarcastically. "Oh, which reminds me. Nick, Warrick – who won the bet?"
Sara and Grissom both looked curiously at the betting pair. "Umm . . ." Nick mumbled, "We'll tell you later, Cath."
She smirked. "Couldn't decide, huh? Yeah I suppose whether it was a good reason or not depends upon your perception. Personally, I'd say . . ." Her voice was cut off as Warrick placed a hand over her mouth. "Come on, partner," he told her calmly. "We've got work to do. No time to sit around gossiping, you know." Still muttering to her, Warrick dragged a protesting Catherine out of the room.
Sara fixed Nick with a penetrating look. "And what was that all about? What bet?"
Nick gulped and ran a finger under his collar. "Uh, nothing, Sara. Just a stupid bet we had about a case." Sara continued to look at him skeptically. "I'll tell you when you're older, ok Sara?"
She continued to stare him down. "We were born a month apart, Nick. Try again."
He did. "Ok. How 'bout I'll tell you when you're not holding a mug of hot liquid."
She shrugged. "Fair enough. Let's go, partner. We've got some grunt work to do." As she passed Grissom, who was still sitting at the head of the table, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "What was that you said about bruises?" Relishing his surprised look, she grinned and followed Nick out the door.
