A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating for 5.6 billion years! Midterms +
basketball state tournament is not a good mixture! I hope this chapter
doesn't disappoint you after making you wait so long! Thanks for stayin'
loyal!
Chapter 4: Fish Nets and Fly Wings
"Ouch, Griss, this is a blast from the past," Catherine commented wryly once the party moved inside Greg's apartment.
"Yeah, Boss, I don't know whether to call you scary....or hot," Warrick admitted.
Hot wasn't the word to describe Grissom's costume. Outrageously unorthadox, perhaps. Or stunningly disturbing. But not "hot."
"I'll have to admit this is MUCH better than mine used to be," Catherine observed, looking her friend up and down.
"Would you care to elaborate on what exactly possessed you to do this to yourself?" Sara asked, biting her fist to keep from laughing.
Grissom went into a full-fledged explination of this very costume being in his dream the previous night, but he had been too embarassed to actually wear it. However, after receiving an ego-crushing e-mail from the very person he was to impersonate, he decided to go back to Plan A.
And now here we was. The magnum opus of all costumes. A seducing array of glitter and fish-net. A sensulating assortment of paint and high heels.
Yes, Gil Grissom, head of the second best crime scene investigation office and lab in the country...was an exotic dancer.
His costume was a golden-seqenced corset, a feathered crown on his head, knee-high "hooker boots," a red-sequenced mini-skirt, and, to top it all off, enough glitter red-and-gold eye make-up to cover four stage actors.
Grissom cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, "I am going to go change; I just wanted to wear this to show you I could. Greg, bathroom?"
A shell-shocked Greg pointed down the end of the hall. Five pairs of eyes followed the clanking sound of the high-heels down the corridor, until the slamming door silenced it. The remaining CSIs turned to face one another.
"Raise of hands, who saw that one coming?" Greg squeaked.
"Man," Nick breathed, shaking his head, "I didn't think Grissom was capable of wearing anything but work clothes, let alone WOMEN'S EXOTIC DANCER CLOTHING!"
Five minutes later, Grissom emerged, still dressed to fit Catherine's description, but in a much more sutable fashion. He now sported tan leather pants with a horizontal striped green-white-and-tan tank top. Now that Grissom had returned, the others could fully observe the womens' costumes.
"Sara, I am guessing you were tryin' to pull of my style," Warrick said, eyes drifting up Sara's body and resting on her hair, "and my 'do."
Nick snickered into his fist, Greg looked love-struck. Sara sported a white A-tee underneath an unbuttoned black dress shirt, complete with jeans. She wore colored contacts for a more greenish-grey eye color, like Warrick's. However, the best part about her costume was the hair. Her thin, normally flat hair was poofed up into a stunning beehive-type hair-do, a close imitation of Warrick's own 'fro.
Sara smirked, "Yeah, there are about 6 trillion bobby pins and 3 billion gallons of hairspray holding this thing up," indicating to her head, "and I NEVER would have been able to pull it off without our resident hair expect here," she said, jerking her thumb towards Catherine.
Catherine smiled and waved modestly, which brought the attention to her outfit. She wore an attractive jean jacket over a white t-shirt, along with stone-washed jeans. Brown cowboy boots, spurs and all, covered her feet. Her two masterpieces were the humongous leather cowboy hat and even bigger belt buckle with a monogram of Texas on the front.
"Aw, c'mon, Cath," Nick blushed, "That's such a typical stereotype."
"I thought it'd remind you of home on the range, pardner," Catherine drawled, looping her thumbs through the belt loops and pretending to spit in the trash can, "How about, Lil' Buckaroo Greggy? When we gon' up and see his car-stoom?" she finished, drawling out the word "costume."
"Okay, enough messin' with Texas," Nick threatened, "Ya'all don't EVER see me talkin' like that."
Everyone else burst out laughing, each slapping Nick on the shoulder before taking a seat on a couch or chair.
"What?" Nick asked, confused.
"Where's Greg?" asked Grissom, speaking for the first time since his costume change.
"PREEEEE-SENTING!" a booming voice called from the other room.
"Oh brother," Catherine sighed, burying her head in Nick's shoulder.
The booming voice continued, "STANDING AT 5 FEET 10 INCHES...WEIGHING IN AT 168 POUNDS...THE NON-COLLEGE-GRADUATE-'CUZ-HE-WAS-SMARTER-THAN-YALE-OR- HARVARD ALL STAR.....GIL "THE ENFORCER-AND-ALL-AROUND-BULLY-TO-THOSE- INFERIOR-TO-HIM-ESPECIALLY-SMART-CUTE-FUNNY-MODEST-LAB-TECHIES" GRISSSSSOOOOOOM!"
Greg ran out into the room, NBA basketball player style, "Ooh, ooh! Thank you! Thank you! You're too much!" he called to the imaginary crowd.
"WHAT are you wearing?" Warrick demanded.
"Almighty God...Grissom wasn't the only crackpot in this group," Catherine mused
"Come to think of it, we're all crackpots," Nick considered
"Speak for yourself, cowboy," Catherine muttered.
"Like you have room to talk, Ivonna Humpalot," Nick shot back.
The whole room stared. "It's from....Austin Powers....that....one girl...." Nick mumbled, mostly to himself.
"Like I said, what ARE you wearing?" Warrick restated.
Greg was wearing a black medieval executionor-style tunic and hood. In one hand was a whip, in the other was a voodoo doll full of pins and dressed in a lab coat. On his head were a pair of antenna, and on his back were two huge fly-like wings.
"My version of Grissom!" Greg explained gleefully, explaining nothing.
All heads snapped in the direction of a bemused Grissom.
"My question is, how did he know my weight?"
A/N: Party starts next chapter! I warned u this could be a longer-type story! bwa-hahahahahaha! Reading and reviews are a few of my favorite things...;)
Chapter 4: Fish Nets and Fly Wings
"Ouch, Griss, this is a blast from the past," Catherine commented wryly once the party moved inside Greg's apartment.
"Yeah, Boss, I don't know whether to call you scary....or hot," Warrick admitted.
Hot wasn't the word to describe Grissom's costume. Outrageously unorthadox, perhaps. Or stunningly disturbing. But not "hot."
"I'll have to admit this is MUCH better than mine used to be," Catherine observed, looking her friend up and down.
"Would you care to elaborate on what exactly possessed you to do this to yourself?" Sara asked, biting her fist to keep from laughing.
Grissom went into a full-fledged explination of this very costume being in his dream the previous night, but he had been too embarassed to actually wear it. However, after receiving an ego-crushing e-mail from the very person he was to impersonate, he decided to go back to Plan A.
And now here we was. The magnum opus of all costumes. A seducing array of glitter and fish-net. A sensulating assortment of paint and high heels.
Yes, Gil Grissom, head of the second best crime scene investigation office and lab in the country...was an exotic dancer.
His costume was a golden-seqenced corset, a feathered crown on his head, knee-high "hooker boots," a red-sequenced mini-skirt, and, to top it all off, enough glitter red-and-gold eye make-up to cover four stage actors.
Grissom cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, "I am going to go change; I just wanted to wear this to show you I could. Greg, bathroom?"
A shell-shocked Greg pointed down the end of the hall. Five pairs of eyes followed the clanking sound of the high-heels down the corridor, until the slamming door silenced it. The remaining CSIs turned to face one another.
"Raise of hands, who saw that one coming?" Greg squeaked.
"Man," Nick breathed, shaking his head, "I didn't think Grissom was capable of wearing anything but work clothes, let alone WOMEN'S EXOTIC DANCER CLOTHING!"
Five minutes later, Grissom emerged, still dressed to fit Catherine's description, but in a much more sutable fashion. He now sported tan leather pants with a horizontal striped green-white-and-tan tank top. Now that Grissom had returned, the others could fully observe the womens' costumes.
"Sara, I am guessing you were tryin' to pull of my style," Warrick said, eyes drifting up Sara's body and resting on her hair, "and my 'do."
Nick snickered into his fist, Greg looked love-struck. Sara sported a white A-tee underneath an unbuttoned black dress shirt, complete with jeans. She wore colored contacts for a more greenish-grey eye color, like Warrick's. However, the best part about her costume was the hair. Her thin, normally flat hair was poofed up into a stunning beehive-type hair-do, a close imitation of Warrick's own 'fro.
Sara smirked, "Yeah, there are about 6 trillion bobby pins and 3 billion gallons of hairspray holding this thing up," indicating to her head, "and I NEVER would have been able to pull it off without our resident hair expect here," she said, jerking her thumb towards Catherine.
Catherine smiled and waved modestly, which brought the attention to her outfit. She wore an attractive jean jacket over a white t-shirt, along with stone-washed jeans. Brown cowboy boots, spurs and all, covered her feet. Her two masterpieces were the humongous leather cowboy hat and even bigger belt buckle with a monogram of Texas on the front.
"Aw, c'mon, Cath," Nick blushed, "That's such a typical stereotype."
"I thought it'd remind you of home on the range, pardner," Catherine drawled, looping her thumbs through the belt loops and pretending to spit in the trash can, "How about, Lil' Buckaroo Greggy? When we gon' up and see his car-stoom?" she finished, drawling out the word "costume."
"Okay, enough messin' with Texas," Nick threatened, "Ya'all don't EVER see me talkin' like that."
Everyone else burst out laughing, each slapping Nick on the shoulder before taking a seat on a couch or chair.
"What?" Nick asked, confused.
"Where's Greg?" asked Grissom, speaking for the first time since his costume change.
"PREEEEE-SENTING!" a booming voice called from the other room.
"Oh brother," Catherine sighed, burying her head in Nick's shoulder.
The booming voice continued, "STANDING AT 5 FEET 10 INCHES...WEIGHING IN AT 168 POUNDS...THE NON-COLLEGE-GRADUATE-'CUZ-HE-WAS-SMARTER-THAN-YALE-OR- HARVARD ALL STAR.....GIL "THE ENFORCER-AND-ALL-AROUND-BULLY-TO-THOSE- INFERIOR-TO-HIM-ESPECIALLY-SMART-CUTE-FUNNY-MODEST-LAB-TECHIES" GRISSSSSOOOOOOM!"
Greg ran out into the room, NBA basketball player style, "Ooh, ooh! Thank you! Thank you! You're too much!" he called to the imaginary crowd.
"WHAT are you wearing?" Warrick demanded.
"Almighty God...Grissom wasn't the only crackpot in this group," Catherine mused
"Come to think of it, we're all crackpots," Nick considered
"Speak for yourself, cowboy," Catherine muttered.
"Like you have room to talk, Ivonna Humpalot," Nick shot back.
The whole room stared. "It's from....Austin Powers....that....one girl...." Nick mumbled, mostly to himself.
"Like I said, what ARE you wearing?" Warrick restated.
Greg was wearing a black medieval executionor-style tunic and hood. In one hand was a whip, in the other was a voodoo doll full of pins and dressed in a lab coat. On his head were a pair of antenna, and on his back were two huge fly-like wings.
"My version of Grissom!" Greg explained gleefully, explaining nothing.
All heads snapped in the direction of a bemused Grissom.
"My question is, how did he know my weight?"
A/N: Party starts next chapter! I warned u this could be a longer-type story! bwa-hahahahahaha! Reading and reviews are a few of my favorite things...;)