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 Injusticefirst, 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 4

For the first time, Grissom found himself glad that he'd broken his ankle. Once the convention opened, the odious, ornery oaf Ecklie had oozed over, oleaginously offering to escort Sara, ostensively to officiate her orientation, but being obviously obnoxiously obdurate to the table's other occupant.

Giving him a syrupy smile, she had pointed out Grissom would need help carrying his share of the giveaways and volunteered for the duty. As she suspected, Ecklie didn't want to spend time with his night shift counterpart, and he'd given them a fake smile before slithering back into the crowd.

Her quick thinking provided them with the perfect cover to spend the entire morning together, moving from demonstration to demonstration, sharing their mutual love of science. It also gave them more practice at repairing their friendship as they joked and teased each other.

Grissom smiled as he watched her methodically testing a line of fingerprint dusting brushes. Despite her serious expression as she concentrated, he could tell she was enjoying herself. Even he found the trade show fun, but, in his case, it had more to do with his company.

Grissom hoped part of her enjoyment came from the same reason.

Moving to her side, he bent forward to observe her work. To get closer, he stood at a slight angle, one crutch behind Sara. The position allowed him to brush his arm and leg against hers. A hint of a grin was her only reaction.

Unfortunately, the motion didn't go undetected.

In the law enforcement community, the Las Vegas Crime Lab was famous for its solve rate. In the forensic supply world, it was famous for its budget. They had staff and equipment that was more likely to be found on a Hollywood set than at a cash-strapped government agency.

The booth's operator, recognizing Grissom, zeroed in on him immediately. Sara laughed quietly as the salesman cornered him, launching into a spiel on all the advantages of their latest product line.

Moving to the next setup, she smiled as he gave her a suffering look over the salesman's shoulder. This had happened at nearly every display. She was beginning to understand why he didn't like these events. Grissom politely expressed an interest in his products, hoping to break off the conversation soon.

Across the room, the booth's main competitor spotted the action and broke out their big guns. They were attached to Helga, a leggy blonde whose blouse barely contained them. Dressed as a cocktail waitress, she sauntered over to Grissom. In a husky voice, she asked him if he'd like to print her.

As she sashayed back to her booth, Grissom twisted first his head, then his body to track her actions as his jar headed farther south.

"Keep that up, and your other ankle's going to get broken."

He turned back to Sara, who was still bent over the display. She looked sideways at him, an eyebrow raised pointedly. Grissom had the distinct feeling she wasn't predicting an accident.

Grissom smiled weakly, once he remembered to close his mouth.

From his observation post several booths down, Ecklie rubbed his chin thoughtfully.



"What's gotten into you?" Archie finally asked. He knew he probably didn't want to know. He knew it was probably best not to know. But all through breakfast, the DNA tech had had a silly grin on his face that was starting to get on his nerves.

"Oh, just thinking about where I'll take Sara for a date."

"In your dreams," Bobby laughed.

"You are so out of your league," Archie added with a sad laugh.

"Bah! You're not considering who you're talking to," Greg said dismissively.

Archie and Bobby exchanged a look. They knew exactly who they were talking to. They also recognized that Sara and Grissom were back on friendly terms. And they had shared several meals together. And someone had pulled some sizeable strings to get Sara a pass to the trade show opening.

"Guys, seriously. We already went on one date."

"Sara agreed to go out with you?"

"No, she asked me out," Greg beamed.

"Sara? Sara Sidle?" Archie asked, choking on his coffee.

"Yeah."

"You dying or something?" Bobby deadpanned.

"Hah!"

"Seriously, man. How did you pull that off?" Archie asked, leaning over the table.

"I let her think she hurt my feelings. I batted my hurt puppy dog eyes at her," he paused to demonstrate, "and she asked me out to coffee."

"Oh, a sympathy date," the A/V tech said, nodding knowingly.

"Well, it was a date," Greg insisted. "And I've got her in position for my next move."

"Boy, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I went out with Sara!"

"You're playing games with her, Greg. Bad move."

"She's going to find out," Archie said.

"And she's going to chew you up and spit you out," Bobby warned, rolling his eyes at Greg's hopeful grin.

"Don't go there," Archie warned.

"Listen, oh ye of little faith. I'll have you know I'm a master chess player. This is a romantic game of chess. Now I'm going home to get plenty of rest. I have a feeling I'm going to need it," he said, grabbing his check and heading out.

"Yeah, he'll need his rest to get away from Sara when she finds out."

"Think we should tell him that Sara went out with Grissom this morning?"

Bobby leaned back in his chair grinning evilly as he sipped his coffee slowly. "Why? And miss all the fun?"



Catherine pulled over slowly. Diagonally across the street from her house, a battered old VW van was parked. Normally, she wouldn't have given much thought to something like that. But this van was badly painted a bright orange with multicolored balloon animals decorating the sides.

Letting out a sigh, she rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment, then snapped back up quickly. Lindsey was home. She had to get rid of that pair before they met her daughter. She'd probably want to keep them.

Crossing the street quickly, she rounded the van to the open side door. A brief flash of a Technicolor-clad rump greeted her.

"Get out of there!" Catherine demanded, slapping the roof of the van sharply.

A startled lone man – who was taller than Dee and Dwe put together – fell out onto the sidewalk, spilling a large bag of popcorn kernels in the process.

"Wh ... what?" he sputtered, trying to push his line of silk hankies back into his rainbow striped sleeves.

"Sorry. Wrong clown," she said, belatedly noticing the 'Magic by Guido Parties for all ages' painted on the door.

"What's going on?"

Catherine turned around to see one of her neighbors – what's her name – running over with her henpecked husband in close pursuit.

"I don't know. I was unloading the popcorn machine," Guido whined. "She yelled at me to get out of my van."

"It's just a misunderstanding ..."

"Marty! You hired a criminal to perform at little Horace's birthday party! How could you?"

"I'm not a criminal!"

"I told you to get a pony, but no, you had wanted a magician. You got a crook!"

"He's not ...," Catherine tried to inject as what's-her-name smacked her husband's arm.

"See? He's not a criminal, sugarplum."

"Of course he is! Why else would she be arresting him?"

"I'm not arresting ..."

"You're a cop? What did I do?"

"Everybody, calm ..."

"What did you do? You pervert!"

"Owww!"

"I'm sure he's not a pervert, sugarplum. Owww!"

"Of course he is! Who else would go out in public dressed like that? That's why she's arresting him."

"I'm not arrest ..."

"I'm not a pervert! I love kids."

"I knew it!"

"Owww! That's not what I meant."

"Pervert!"

"Owww!"

"Help!"

"Sugarplum, I think you're overreacting. Owww!"

"Quiet!" Catherine yelled, wincing when she saw a dejected 5-year-old Horace. He'd been enjoying the show from the front lawn. She couldn't shake the feeling it would probably be the highlight of his party.

"He's not a criminal. I'm not arresting anybody. Well, maybe you, if you don't stop hitting people with your purse!" she snapped at sugarplum, before turning to the husband.

"You! Give him a hand with that equipment! Mister, errr, Guido. Sorry about this. Thought you were someone else. Here," she said, pressing a 20-dollar bill in his hand. "That's for the popcorn."

Finally making it to her house, Catherine was relieved to find Lindsey still asleep. There was no way she wanted to explain that scene. After giving her daughter a kiss, she moved towards her room planning on a long shower, but paused. Heading back to the living room, she went to the videos stored near the TV.

Catherine went straight to her closet, tossing Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factoryinto the box with her private stash of videos. Lindsey loved that movie, but there was no way she was going to watch it any time in the immediate future.



Sara wandered to the next demonstration, lost in thought. Earlier, she'd been afraid that she'd embarrassed Grissom at breakfast, but they'd gotten along well afterwards. Then that bimbo showed up. And Grissom had eyed her up.

Was that what Grissom liked?It would take major alterations to her wardrobe – not to mention her anatomy – to pull off that look. Even then, Sara doubted she could exude the pure sexuality the bimbo did. It just wasn't her style.

Is that why he hasn't been interested? Nah, that can't be the reason. Well, there was Lady Heather. That was a rumor. A rumor he didn't deny. Oh, brother.

She turned to find him watching her. They shared a brief, embarrassed smile.

Grissom pursed his lips. He wasn't used to bimbos throwing themselves at him. He never knew how to react in the situation. It wasn't his style. He darted his eyes to Sara, noticing she was concentrating on the carpet. She must think I'm a pig. She's not even looking at me.

They flashed each other another hesitant smile as they moved forward. Grissom's injured ankle, along with the lab's endless budget, earned them front-row seats at all the demonstrations. Ecklie and Cavallo took seats on either side of them.

Sara made the motions of looking over some product literature as she imagined herself trying to accommodate Grissom's apparent interest. Leather she could deal with. It would be better if it were pleather. But a whip? She'd put her own eye out tripping. She had never been very graceful on stilettos.

Grissom shifted in his chair as he tried to think of a way to explain himself to Sara. He had no interest – beyond the basic hormonal stuff – in that type of bimbo. The truth was he was fairly unoriginal in that regard. He knew there were rumors about his night with Heather, but that had been basic. Heather probably found him boring.

He didn't want to bore Sara. From the brief bit they'd talked about it, she'd been more adventurous when she'd been in college. He hadn't asked about her experiences since then. Well, he'd kept her waiting too long. If he didn't make a move soon, she was going to move on. Luckily, she didn't have anyone in the wings waiting for her.

They smiled again when she looked up, then both turned to watch as the speaker came on stage. Sara quickly dove behind her papers. It was a precaution. She hadn't seen him in 10 years. It wasn't like he'd remember her.

"Sara?"

Damn!She closed her eyes briefly, before dropping the brochure.

"Hey, Ken," she said.

Grissom darted his head back and forth between Sara and the preppy looking man walking towards them. A younger man who was giving her a very inappropriate grin.

Ken? Who's Ken? That look he's giving her better not be the type of look I think it is. Why doesn't Ken go after that blonde Barbie bimbo out in the main convention floor?

"Hi," the preppy man said, turning to Sara's companion. "Ken Fuller. Vice-president of product development at TriSci Chemical Corporation."



TBC