A/N I'm glad everyone's enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Thanks for the reviews, and your reward is Chapter Two! (wow, that rhymed!)

"Come on, Griss, you have to contribute, too!" Grissom found himself smiling indulgently at Sara, who was beginning to sound more and more like an exuberant teenager. He felt a little sorry for working her so hard--besides, if she was this interesting when she had a little fun in her life...

"I'll contribute in a minute, Sara. Right now I'm enjoying the rest of my cake in comparative safety."

"All right, now." Nick raised his arms in a gesture designed to gain everyone's attention. "If I leave this room, I'm safe, right? I don't have any cake..." Nick had been chosen as the one to go get his CSI hat, needed for Catherine's plans.

"You've got...two minutes, Nick." Warrick paused as he pressed a button on his watch. "Go!"

They all laughed as Nick went flying past Grissom through the doorway, the latter being careful to protect the remaining bite of his cake by stuffing it in his mouth without shame.

"All right, Gil, you're finally done!" Catherine flipped a chair around and perched herself on it, her arms resting on the back. "No more procrastination," she said, commandingly. "Grab a piece of paper and a pen and WRITE."

Grissom laughed as Greg scurried over with a pen and paper. 'He is probably afraid I'll come to my senses and end all their fun.' He was surprised to find that he was looking forward to all this, too. He lowered his head in the pretense of writing, and watched Sara over the top of his glasses. She was sprawled on the couch, her feet dangling over the armrest, and her head resting in the middle. He saw movement, and had to suppress a giggle as he saw she was twirling her hair around a finger. He recalled a time, long ago, when he had visited Harvard as a guest speaker. Sara had been so interested in his lecture that she'd stayed behind to ask questions, and questions had turned to dinner. Over dinner they'd talked about everything--including how twirling her hair was a bad habit Sara had had in high school. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, wondering if he had worked her so hard that she forgot how to have fun completely.

Grissom wasn't sure what he was supposed to write, so he checked to see if Catherine was watching and snuck a hand out to grab one of the already folded pieces of paper. 'Spin the Bottle' was written on it, in all caps, with a smiley face. 'Who...?'

"No fair, he's peeking!" Greg reached out and snatched the paper from Grissom's hand, ripping it in the process. "Aww man! Now I have to re-write it!"

"'Spin the bottle,' Greg? I don't think you have to rewrite it." Grissom tried not to think about how fun it would be to kiss Sara, and tried to focus on the fact that his co-workers would have been watching anyway.

"One forty-five, one forty-six..."

"I think Grissom's right, Greg," Catherine's voice broke in, backing him up. "I mean, exactly how do you 'win' spin the bottle, anyway?"

"One fifty. One fifty-one, One..."

"Four guys? Two ladies? The man with the most smooches at the end wins, of course!" Greg did a little twirl and came around with hands snapping to a point. "Ohhh yeahhhh," he said, in a bad imitation of... someone.

"fifty-six, one fifty-seven..."

"Come up with a new one, Greg." Grissom handed the disappointed Greg some paper and a pen.

"fifty-nine, two minutes! Oh that's it he is so dead!" Warrick lunged out the doorway after the hapless Nick, as the rest of the night crew looked on in laughter.

"Oh, FINE." Greg pouted, as he wrote something else down. Grissom leaned over as if to see, and the lab rat sullenly turned his body to hide his paper, covering it with his free hand just in case.

"Ever do the bicycle?" Sara piped up from the couch. Grissom looked over and immediately turned red. Sara was still lying with her back on the couch, but now her legs were in the air, mimicking the movement of feet on pedals, pumping. All he could think about was what it would feel like to be wrapped up in those legs...

"Oh, yeah--that's good workout for your legs. I used to do that all the time when I was dancing." Catherine hugged the back of her chair with her legs, and leaned her body backwards, stretching her arms back behind her head.

"Close your mouth, Greg." Grissom had to laugh at the younger man's expression.

"Oh, sorry--I didn't mean to tempt you there, Greggo." Catherine spoke from her stretched position, giving no indication that she would move any time soon.

"Oh, you weren't tempting me, Cath," Greg lied. "Well, actually you were--" He reached over and tickled Catherine's belly. Catherine shrieked, extricated herself quickly, and started chasing him around the room. Grissom watched as the lab tech looked at the door longingly as he ran.

"Better not, Greggo--she can only mildly injure you in here!" A chorus of 'owowowowow's" from the hall along with Warrick's maniacal laughter gave truth to his words, as the two missing CSI's walked into the breakroom. Warrick was giving Nick the noogie of a lifetime, and it was obvious that the other man wasn't enjoying it one bit.

"Hey now," said Nick, once his friend finally stopped manhandling him. "Is that any way to treat your judge?" Nick smoothed down his shirt, having completely forgotten about his hair, which now resembled one of Greg's more outrageous styles.

"Judge?" Sara asked the question as she popped up from the couch, causing Grissom to once again wonder why everything she did tonight made him want her. He'd been looking in the correct direction to see her getting up, and the litheness of her body along with the ease of her movements made him picture all kinds of interesting situations. Grissom blamed his inability to control his thoughts on the half a cup of wine he had before shift.

"Of course! After all, I'm the only one in here who didn't have any cake, so I'm assuming the piece left over would have been mine." Nick was warming to his subject now. "I mean, if I hadn't so graciously offered to donate my piece to our little competition, I could have chosen to give it to someone else!" Nick's hand was now resting on the cake box, and it quivered a little bit when he turned to view the hostile glares of his co-workers. "That's why," he started again, his voice cracking a bit as he removed his hand from danger, "I think you should have me judge this."

"There's only one problem with that, Nick," Catherine said. "A judge is supposed to look dignified.' Catherine laughed as she realized Nick had no idea what she was talking about, and actually looked slightly hurt by her comment.

"Yeah, and your hair looks like a flock of seagulls!!" Sara said, falling back on the couch due to the vehemence of her laughter. Nick turned towards the door of the breakroom, his image reflected in the glass. His hair did indeed look as though a large group of birds had used it as a landing pad. He hurriedly smoothed it down as he waited for the rest of the group to stop laughing at him. He remembered the hat, and whipped it from his pocket in an impressive gesture that everyone missed due to their laughing fit, and tossed it onto the table.

"All right, that's enough," he said, hoping there was enough of a tone of command in his voice. "Place your papers in the official hat, please." Nick was gratified to see that everyone but Sara and Grissom immediately got up to place their papers in his hat. Grissom, he saw, was still working on something to write on his paper, and Sara was still caught up in hysterical laughter. At a particular noise, Grissom looked up.

"Did you just snort, Sara?" he asked, incredulously. Sara looked up with what she intended to have been an indignant look, but the shocked expression on Grissom's face set her off into peals of laughter again.

"I... did.... *snort* nothing... of the... *hiccup* sort!!" she gasped out, invalidating her own statement in the process.

"That's it, Sara, you're cut off!" Warrick reached out and took her cup of coffee from beside the couch, and tossed it in the garbage can. He then started humming one of his favorite songs, unable to stop himself. He'd been stuck on it all night anyway.

"Sara, your paper, please." Nick pompously held out the hat for her. "And Grissom? We don't have all night here." His incorrect comment sent Sara off to lala land again, and she snorted again when Warrick hit her in the face with one of the couch pillows. Greg, having finally succumbed to a mock beating by Catherine, leaned over and made as if to read what Grissom was struggling to write on his paper. Grissom, to Greg's dismay, noticed this, and mimicked the younger man's earlier actions by turning his back and covering his paper with a hand. After a minute, he shot Greg a triumphant look, folded his paper into fours, and tossed it into Nick's proffered hat.

"Ok then, we will begin." Nick stuck his nose in the air as he reached into the hat to pick a paper. The mood in the room was infectious, and he got caught up in it as well. After making quite a show of reaching around in the hat, he came out with a balled up piece, and set the hat down.

"Need any help with that, Nicky?" Grissom had reached into a pocket and pulled out some tweezers. "I could send that over to questioned documents and have them unwrap it for you..."

"No, that won't be necessary." Nick was still in character as the uppity judge. That all changed as he finished unwrapping the piece of paper and read the words inscribed on it. "Twister?!" he asked, incredulously. Greg let out a whoop, and started doing a boogie, leaving everyone with no doubt as to who had written 'twister.'

"Twister? I don't think so, Greg." Grissom knew who would lose that, having had a twinge of pain in his right knee from crawling around at a crime scene two weeks before.

"Why not?" Surprisingly, the question came from Sara, which did nothing to stop Grissom from his nights' habit of picturing her in different torrid positions.

"First of all, we don't have a board," Catherine started, her hand reaching for her purse as if to check on her cash supply--ostensibly to go and actually buy a twister board at one in the morning. Warrick's hand reached out to stop her.

"Second of all," he started, "Catherine cheats at twister." Four pairs of shocked eyes turned towards him, three real, one fake.

"You know you cheat, Catherine." Warrick still hadn't let go of her hand, either. He turned to address the rest of them. "She bites."

"I do NOT!" Catherine protested, yanking her hand from his grasp.

"Want me to show you the scar?" Warrick winked at her, stood up, and made as if to undo his belt buckle.

"I think we believe you, 'Rick." Nick spoke quickly, hoping to stop his friend before he dropped trou.

"Ok," Warrick said. "But she really does bite." Catherine swatted at him but he dodged her easily.

"I think it's a moot point anyway," said Grissom.

"Oh, he's probably right." Sara actually sounded disappointed, thought Grissom. He couldn't know that she was picturing their own private game of twister...

"Ok, so Greg's contribution is out," Nick said, reaching into the hat without ceremony this time. "Who wants to hear what the second paper says?" he asked playfully, waving the folded paper in the air.