Beware of Geeks Bearing Presents
Summary: A sequel to Poetic Injustice. A bit of fluff – Sara and Grissom want to repair their friendship. Greg wants Sara. Ecklie wants the Red Creeper. Catherine wants a night off. And a mystery man from Sara's past is back.
Rating: PG to be on the safe side.
A/N: Probably a good idea to read Poetic Injustice first, but I think you can follow this story if you don't. Spoilers for Unfriendly Skies. Thanks to Burked, Ann and Marlou for beta-ing this chapter.
Disclaimer: If I had even a fraction of a percent of the rights to CSI would I be writing fan fiction? Well, yeah, probably, but that doesn't change the fact I own nothing to do with the show.
Chapter 3
Catherine stepped around the receptionist desk warily. If Judy's shell-shocked expression wasn't enough of a clue, the lack of a visible visitor validated her vision of a vis-à-vis with her vertically challenged vexatious varicolored vandalized victims.
To her surprise, a pair of naturally pigmented men, dressed in normal clothing, greeted her. If plaid Bermuda shorts and neon Hawaiian shirts could be called normal. Whatever else their troubles, the pair were victims of bad taste.
"Dee," she said, nodding to the first twin, then his brother. "Dwe."
They started capering gleefully around the startled Catherine, causing her co-workers to pause to stare. She didn't care. For years, she worked as a stripper, with men leering at her nearly nude body. This was nothing.
"You recognized us!"
"You can tell us apart!"
She forced a smile. The truth was Dee still had traces of purple makeup in his ears. It clashed horribly with his hair, which was currently dyed a brilliant blue. Dwe had done a better job of removing his maroon makeup.
"I am a highly trained criminalist," she said, deciding not to point out the truth to him. For all she knew, he was making a fashion statement. A hideous statement by any standard, but it was his to make. "What can I do for you guys?"
"We had to fill out some papers."
"We need a report."
"We wanted to thank you while we were here."
"That's not necessary," she exclaimed quickly, shuddering at the thought of seeing yet another one of their dances.
O'Riley had to threaten to arrest them to get the pair to leave the crime scene alone. They had cartwheeled, tap-danced, hustled and leapfrogged all over the place, narrowly missing destroying evidence.
"But we insist!"
"You're so helpful."
"You're so dedicated."
"So thoughtful."
"So thorough."
"So kind."
"Understanding."
"Diligent."
"Brilliant."
Catherine's smile became sincere. Who didn't like getting rightfully deserved praise in front of their co-workers?
"And you're hot!"
"What a babe!"
"Yowsa! Yay!"
"Want to go out?"
"What?" she sputtered, suddenly very conscious of dozens of eyes watching the exchange. The pair grinned lecherously, rocking back and forth in a disturbing pattern.
"Don't let our looks deceive you!" Dee squeaked, grabbing one of her hands and kissing it.
"Don't judge a book by its cover!" Dwe added, capturing her other hand and repeating the motion before she could react.
"We're very versatile."
"We're very flexible."
"Enthusiastic."
"Energetic."
"We have great endurance," Dee said, holding onto Catherine as she tried to free her hand.
"We have great stamina," Dwe added, bracing his legs as she tried to pull away.
"Guys! Let go!" Catherine snapped.
"Of course," Dwe said, smiling as the pair started their back and forth rocking again.
"We're well-behaved."
"We're well-mannered."
"Well-respected."
"Well-endowed."
Catherine closed her eyes as Nick and Warrick strolled by, each making no effort to disguise their humor.
"Sorry, guys. Professional ethics. Can't get involved with anyone involved in a case," she said sweetly, mentally mapping out how she'd murder her colleagues when she heard Warrick's loud guffaw.
The duo stopped their rocking motions, sharing a defeated shrug. They shuffled their way out the front door leaving Catherine alone with a sizeable portion of the night shift behind her. Someone was brave enough to start snickering.
She turned around deliberately, fixing them with a steely-glare. It was a glare only a single mother could give. Hers was even more glaring – it had been honed by years as working as a coke-addicted stripper, supporting her abusive, financially irresponsible, two-timing husband while her multimillionaire father ignored her.
The crowd melted away, and Catherine stalked her way back to the locker room. Right now all she wanted was to hug her daughter, take a hot shower, go to bed and not dream about Oompah Loompahs.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Sara stretched as she made her way into the break room, wondering why Nick and Warrick were in such a good mood. It was more than the upcoming trade show – they couldn't get in until tomorrow.
Despite Grissom's complaining, the others would gladly take his place. There'd be all kinds of do-dads and gizmos, with the various companies having tons of promotional giveaways. Today, there would be actual demonstrations of equipment.
It was a geek's dream come true.
But the demonstrations had to be done under controlled circumstances. That meant a limited crowd. Only the bigwigs got to see those. They also got all the best goody bags, since they were the ones who controlled the budgets.
Well, she and Grissom had already made plans to attend tomorrow, when all the booths were set up. Officially, it was a work-related event. Unofficially, they got to go out and not worry if anyone saw them together. It would be nice, even if it technically didn't count as a date.
After pouring a mug of coffee, she made her way over to her potted plant, wondering if she should finally take it home. A grin broke out as she moved in closer.
Immediately after Grissom had sent it, someone had placed a hanged rubber spider in one of the fronds. It had been an unsubtle message to the entomologist that he was on dangerous ground after their argument. He'd been indifferent to it.
An acrylic stag-horn beetle that had committed hari-kari with its own horn had followed a short time later. Grissom rolled his eyes at the addition.
Next, a fake pill bug had joined the collection. Someone had taken the time to make a bug-sized prescription bottle out of orange plastic. They even painted fake foam around the mouth to match an overdose victim's reaction. Grissom had pouted after that.
"What is it this time?"
She looked back to see Grissom moving up behind her, an irritated look on his face. "Death by handgun."
He groaned as he looked at the plastic butterfly – or what remained of it. Someone had placed a tiny, toy handgun in its feet and put a hole through its middle.
"You have to admit, the blowback spatter is very accurate," Sara said, smiling despite her best efforts to keep a straight face.
"A moth could never articulate its joints that way. It couldn't pull a trigger," he pointed out matter-of-factly as he sank into a chair.
"I don't think they actually make handguns that small," she smirked, turning to examine the model more closely. Leave it to Grissom to grouse about the accuracy of the bugs in a joke.
"I don't get it," she added after a moment.
"I don't think there's any secret message intended," he said petulantly.
"No. I thought there was a pattern. The method of death matched the bug."
Grissom frowned, mulling over his options. When Sara gave him an imploring look, he let out a loud sigh and hobbled over to the plant. He picked up the moth, turning it over a few times, before shaking his head in disgust. Setting it back in the plant, he made his way to the table.
"Coleophora malivorella," he said when Sara cocked her head quizzically.
"And?"
He gave her a dirty look before letting out a long breath.
"Also known as the pistol case-bearer moth."
Grissom frowned when she started laughing out loud.
Sara gave him an apologetic smile and sat across from him. "What time are you leaving for the convention?"
"Doors open in about 15 minutes, but that's for the breakfast buffet. The show itself starts in about an hour."
"Hey, you get a free breakfast out of it," she said encouragingly.
"So do you."
Both turned to see a broadly smiling Ecklie entering the room waving an envelope. "The Boise Crime Lab's flight was delayed. I convinced the organizers to let me have their pass. You can join us, Sara," he said sweetly.
"Thanks, Conrad," she said with a genuine smile. Sara had no dreams of working for him, but she wasn't about to pass on the opportunity to go to geek nirvana. Besides, it meant she could spend more time with Grissom.
She looked up to Grissom, noticing his shocked expression. It wasn't hard to understand. She suddenly was on a first-name basis with his nemesis. There hadn't been time to tell him about the offer to move to day shift yet.
"This is what happens when you have a boss who respects your contribution," he said quietly as he moved to grab some coffee. "Need a ride to the show?"
"No, thanks. I'm good."
"See you later."
"Bye."
"What was that all about?" Grissom asked.
"Let's talk about it over breakfast. I'll drive."
After they signed in, Sara went to the buffet to get their breakfasts. Grissom scouted out the room, finally picking a table set in a quiet corner. He placed the backpack and jacket on one chair, sat in another, resting his cast on a third. Sara could have the last seat, and his crutches were leaning against the open side.
No one was going to join them. He wanted to know what was going on. Ecklie was getting Sara gifts? Sara was happy to get them? Something was very wrong in the universe – or at least his section of it.
After she finally found Grissom in the obscure location, Sara smiled. She recognized his setting up his own private territory so they could talk. It was sweet, in a very Grissomesque way.
"Ecklie offered me a job on days," she said directly as she placed his plate of food and drink down.
"Cavallo would never let him take you."
"Cavallo's already approved it. If I want it," she added when he stared at her. "Or swing shift."
"Why are my CSIs being taken from me?" he asked hotly, not noticing her own irritated look at being considered a possession.
"Word got out that I wasn't happy on graveyard anymore. He's willing to move me to another shift to get me to stay."
"Why didn't you tell Ecklie 'no' right away?"
"I haven't had time to think about it," she said, playing with the straw in her juice.
"What's there to think about?" he asked, leaning over, even though no one was in earshot.
"One of the reasons you don't want to get together is because you're my boss. I switch shifts, that problem is gone."
"No. I don't want you to switch."
"Does that mean you don't want to do anything? About us?" she asked softly.
"No," he said, softening his tone when he noticed her sad expression. "It's not that."
"What is it then?"
"We'd never see each other if we were on different shifts," he explained, moving his hand so it brushed against hers.
"But we don't 'see' each other because we're on the same shift."
"What can I say? I want my cake, and I want to eat it, too," Grissom said, smiling broadly at her.
Sara grinned wickedly as she lifted the straw and drew it slowly into her mouth. "Promise?"
Grissom groaned as he realized his double-entendre. Her oral antics with the straw weren't helping. He closed his eyes. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to stand up any time soon.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
The sound of suppressed laughter greeted Catherine as soon as she crossed the threshold. Nick and Warrick were leaning against the row of metal lockers, clearly amused by her earlier embarrassing encounter with Dee and Dwe.
"I can't believe that scene, Cath," Warrick said.
"That was so wrong," Nick added.
"Seriously. Can't believe they hit on you like that."
"The least they could have done was brought you some chocolates."
"Okay," she said coolly. "Let's get one thing straight. Those are not Oompah Lompahs. They're a pair of performance artists. Oompah Loompahs are orange. Oompah Loompahs have green hair."
"They're imaginary," Nick added with a chuckle.
"Get out of my way," she sighed, pushing past them to get to her locker.
"Hey, now, we're your friends," Nick said, placing his hand over his heart dramatically. "Don't go being rude to us. You won't be happy if you do."
"Is that a fact? Or a threat?" Catherine said, turning her glare on them briefly.
Nick and Warrick exchanged a look and started backing towards the door. Catherine banged her head against the locker door as they exited the room, singing loudly:
"Given good manners you will go far
"You will live in happiness too
"Like the Oompah Loompah Doompety do."
Seeing her reach for her boots, the pair ducked into the hallway, bolting when they noted the force and accuracy with which she could throw the heavy footwear.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
TBC
