Chapter 2: Pooh-Pooh to the Whos!

Sara wandered aimlessly up and down the isles of the costume shop, looking for something that was suitably "Christmassy". As she looked at yet another pair of angel wings, she silently cursed Catherine and her festive ideas. What was with the whole fancy dress theme anyway, wasn't it enough that she had to attend the party in the first place. "Paybacks can be a bitch, Catherine," she mumbled quietly.

Sara's thoughts were interrupted by a shrill voice behind her, "I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that, can I help you?"

Sara turned around and came face to face with one of her worst nightmares. A petite blonde girl stood before her, dressed in a skimpy Mrs. Clause outfit, complete with red and white striped stockings. Every speck of exposed skin had been smeared with red and green glitter, and a little nametag that read 'Megan', blinked back at Sara mercilessly.

Suppressing the need to shudder at this very festive display, Sara attempted to ward off the girl, "Uh, no thanks. I was just looking at that scarecrow outfit and said to myself haystacks really itch," she said, impressed with her own ingenuity.

"Well," said the girl, not easily discouraged, "If the scarecrow isn't your thing, we have some wonderful Mrs. Claus outfits, just like the one I'm wearing," gesturing at her own costume.

"Um.that's a little more festive than I want to be," Sara replied. "I'm being forced into going to a party that I really don't want to, so I was hoping for something a little less flashy."

The girl's face became a picture of concentration, as if Sara was a puzzle that she had been given to solve. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "I think I have the perfect outfit for you, follow me!" she said, bouncing off down one of the isles. Sara stared menacingly at the girls bouncing figure. "I wonder how traceable that red and green glitter would be," she thought to herself.

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One good thing about Vegas was that if you needed a costume, you were in the right place; of course it helped if you had some idea of what you were actually looking for. Grissom had been roaming around the same costume shop for over an hour and he still hadn't found anything suitable for the party. He had thought about dressing up as Santa and colouring his beard white, but the thought of making himself appear any older than he actually was, did not appeal. Especially if Sara was going to be there.

"Excuse me sir, is there anything I can do for you?" said a matronly voice from behind him. Grissom turned and found a portly, middle-aged woman looking at him. "I'm just trying to find a costume," Grissom said vaguely, hoping to dismiss the woman.

"Oh! I have just the thing for a good-looking man like you. In fact it's one of our most popular costumes," the lady rattled off as she grabbed Grissom's arm and started to walk to their unknown destination. "My husband Al wore the same one last year and it was all I could do to keep my hands to myself," she tittered, winking meaningfully.

The look on Grissom's face was priceless. Here he was, shopping for a costume to attend a party that he didn't want to go to and listening to the intimate secrets of a woman who looked like she feel out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. 'Could things possibly get any worse,' he thought to himself.

As if reading his mind, the woman stopped at one of the racks and pulled out a costume. "You would look simply dashing in this," she exclaimed as she held out a very red and green Elvis suit. Giving him a flirtatious grin she added, "The ladies really love it and if you like, we have some dye that can turn your chest hair red and green."

Grissom pursed his lips and slightly cocked his head at the woman. He couldn't believe her audacity. Choosing his words carefully Grissom said, "As appealing as the thought is of wearing an Elvis suit and having red and green chest hair, I think I'm going to have to pass."

"Oh come on now, where's your sense of adventure honey?" she persisted. "A handsome man like you in an Elvis suit, a couple of pelvic thrusts and you'll be fighting the women off," she said fanning her face.

Whether it was the thought of himself doing pelvic thrusts or the sight of the saleswoman demonstrating the action, it was hard to say, but Grissom looked horrified.

"Uh..no.thanks," he managed to stammer. "Look, I don't even want to go to this party so the less attention I attract, the better."

The woman's eyes grew sad as she placed the Elvis costume back on the rack, her fingers lingering on the sleeve as if she were saying goodbye to an old friend.

"Excuse me..Miss," Grissom interrupted her reverie. "I'm kind of in a hurry here, do you have anything else that might be suitable?" he said, knowing full well that he'd been in the shop for close to two hours.

"Oh, sorry," said the woman focusing her attention back on Grissom. "Hmmm, let me see," she murmured, drumming her fingers on her chin. "Got it!" she exclaimed suddenly, grabbing Grissom's arm again and pulling him down another isle.

Grissom had to jog beside her to keep from being yanked off his feet. He thought, 'what's next? Michael Jackson, complete with a glittery green glove and sparkly red socks?' He almost stumbled as an image flashed in his mind of the saleswoman demonstrating the moonwalk, spinning around and grabbing her crotch; all while singing 'I'm bad, I'm bad'. "I have got to get out of here!" Grissom mumbled to himself.

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Nick looked up as Sara walked into the break room. "Man, you look exhausted," he observed.

"Yeah well you would too if you'd just spent the better part of two hours looking for a costume," Sara replied grumpily.

"Two hours?" Nick asked in surprise. "See now that's why I'm not even bothering with a costume," he stated.

"You're not? Do you think that's wise?" Sara asked. "You know the Christmas Nazi is only gonna give you one when you get there."

Nick shrugged. "I'm prepared to take my chances," he said, grinning. "So, can I see it?"

"See what?" asked Sara, somewhat perplexed.

"Duuuuh," said Nick, slapping his forehead. "Your costume of course. I figure if it took you two hours to find it, then it must be pretty darn special," he said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Sara laughed. "No and no," she said emphatically.

"No and no?" Nick's eyebrows lifted in question.

"No, you can't see it and no it's not 'special'. You'll just have to wait until the party, like everyone else," she replied.

Nick stood and walked towards the door, prodding her in the ribs as he walked by. "You're no fun," he said playfully. She grinned and poked her tongue out at him. "Oh so grown up," he chuckled. "See ya later Sar."

She turned her attention back to the bench. As usual, the 'coffee' was a congealed black mass in the bottom of the pot. "Great," she muttered to herself. "Just when I really needed a fix." She washed out the pot and started another brew when she sensed someone else entering the room

"Hey," said Grissom wearily, coming to stand beside her.

"Hey yourself," she said, giving him a small smile. Although they had not resolved their problems, they were at least acting civilly towards each other. Their conversations of late consisted of work matters or idle chitchat, neither of them wanting to cause any additional friction by delving into personal matters or feelings. "You look, how I feel," observed Sara.

"Don't get me started," grumbled Grissom. "Try two hours in a costume shop with the devil," he said dramatically.

Sara chuckled. "Been there, done that. In fact that's how I just spent my last two hours," she said with an amused look. "Catherine has a lot to answer for."

"Indeed she does," agreed Grissom. "Is there any coffee?" he asked.

"Yeah, I just made a fresh batch," she replied. "Pass your cup."

A voice from behind them interrupted their friendly banter. "At last, my first two victims."

Grissom turned. "Was there something you wanted Greg?" he asked resignedly. Greg stood in the doorway, a goofy grin on his face. "Well?" repeated Grissom, as he felt Sara turn beside him.

Greg just stood there and looked at both of them, grinning like the village idiot. Slowly he brought his hand up and his finger pointed towards the ceiling.

Grissom's eyes followed the trajectory indicated by Greg's finger and widened as he noticed what Greg was pointing at. Beside him, Sara choked on her coffee as her eyes also reached the same destination. There dangling from the ceiling was a tiny sprig of mistletoe, strategically placed above the coffeepot and consequently, directly above their heads.

"Come on you two, pucker up. Tradition is tradition," Greg ribbed, from the doorway.

Grissom dropped his eyes to look at Sara who was staring back at him, her expression unreadable. 'Damn,' he thought. 'What do I do now. If I don't kiss her, she'll feel rejected again and if I do kiss her, I'm afraid she'll be able to tell how I really feel about her.'

Meanwhile Sara was suffering her own internal dialogue. 'Damn Greg and his stupid stunts,' she cursed mentally. Sure she wanted to kiss Grissom but not like this and not in front of Greg. 'Should I pull away and tell Greg what an ass he is or should I grab the opportunity while I have it?' she debated silently.

"I'm waaaaaiiiiiting," sang Greg annoyingly.

As if on cue, Grissom and Sara both leant in and pecked each other's cheek, somehow managing to avoid a clash of heads. Pulling back abruptly they both stared at their shoes like embarrassed teenagers.

"See," said Greg triumphantly. "That wasn't so bad was it?"

Grissom managed to regain his composure and turned to the young man. "I don't expect to hear about this through the office grapevine Greg. Are we clear on that?" he demanded.

"Crystal," smirked Greg and sauntered off in the direction of his lab.

"Uh, I have to get back to the layout room," mumbled Sara, still unable to meet Grissom's eyes. "Catch you later," she said, scurrying from the room, giving Greg the look of death as she passed him. Greg was amused however about the blush that had appeared on her cheeks.

Grissom sighed. "Great," he said. "Just great."

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