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 and Ann 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 12
A distracted Sara entered the evidence vault, finding Nick already there. Her able-bodied associate adroitly assembled assorted articles and attire applicable to his abnormally awoken accosted actuary.
Lost in her own thoughts, she gave him a friendly wave as she went to check out the evidence from the café shooting. "Hey, Lazarus. Solve your robbery?"
"It was Lazarus that got robbed," he chuckled. "And he was drugged. Won six grand at a poker game, had one drink before heading to his room, and woke up when David was feeling for a pulse."
"That'll ruin your day."
"I don't know about that. I think not waking up when the coroner's feeling for a pulse would ruin your day," Nick replied, noticing Sara seemed preoccupied. He smothered his grin before leaning in close to her. "Grissom here yet?"
"I think so," she replied. After dinner, she'd left his townhouse to grab a change of clothes before heading in. He'd been planning on going straight to the office. She hadn't seen him yet, and she hoped he wasn't still upset. She had apologized. Sara frowned when she saw Nick watching her. "Why?"
"Cath's goin' to rip him a new one."
"She have a reason this time?"
"We spent all night roundin' up grasshoppers."
"Is that a Texas thing?" Sara asked as she signed the logs. "No cows around?"
"Ha-ha. No, Grissom left the top of off the grasshopper habitat."
"So, that's what he forgot."
"How did you know he forgot something?"
Sara darted her eyes sideways to find Nick grinning broadly at her. A soft laugh came from the clerk manning the vault. Was there anyone in the building who hadn't figured out – or suspected – that she and Grissom were together?
"He mentioned it," she said vaguely, grabbing her evidence and making a beeline to the Layout Room.
"When did he tell you?" Nick pressed, ignoring the glare she gave him when he followed her.
"After shift."
"Guess we know what you're doin' on your day off. Or who you're…"
"Don't go there, Nick!"
"Sounds like someone's already there."
Sara turned her head to give him a cautionary stare. His teasing was bad enough, but to do it in the hallway where anyone could hear was treading on dangerous ground. "I was in court the past two days."
"Not all day."
"Felt like it. No comments," she said emphatically.
"Would I do something like that?"
"Yes, and I actually went to bed for a change," she said, giving him an innocent look as she dropped her packages on the table.
"Doesn't mean you were sleeping."
"Nick!"
"Hey, now! You think we wouldn't figure it out? I'm a highly competent CSI."
"So, what do cows drink?" she muttered, frowning when it encouraged another round of chortling.
"He told you that? Not my idea of sweet talk, but if that's what turns .. owwww!"
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Greg looked up from his samples when he heard the bickering in the hallway. Sara and Nick exited the Layout Room and headed his way. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized they were the ones arguing. Ever since he saw them together at the convention, he'd been worried.
But this sounded like a whopper. That really ruled out that they might be … an item. Who ever heard of lovers quarrelling … Damn.
He shook his head as they entered his lab. Nah. The look Sara was flashing Nick wasn't the aren't-we-a-cute-couple type. No, it was more of a soon-to-have-a-body-to-dispose-of look. Definitely the look of a woman who could commit a crime of passion … Damn.
"Drop it!" Sara hissed as they approached Greg.
"Nick, these belong to you. Nada on CODIS. Let me know if you get anything to compare it to."
"Will do, bud. Thanks," he said, grabbing the printout and heading to the door. Once he was out of harm's way, he called back. "Hey, Sar! I'm flying back to Texas for a reunion next month. Any tips?"
"Drop it while you still have one," she warned, turning to give Greg an impatient look. "Get it over with."
"What?"
"The joke you're going to make. Get your digs in."
Greg swallowed quickly, turning his back in case any drool was escaping. So the rumors about Sara and the Mile High Club were true. Oh. Wow. He mentally began reviewing the globe, trying to figure out what the longest flight out of Las Vegas would be. Sara's foot-tapping brought his attention back to the lovely woman waiting for him.
"I wouldn't do that to you. I know what it's like to be the butt of jokes around here. No fun. Not cool," he said softly, moving to his microscope.
Sara's expression morphed from anger to confusion as she watched her colleague dejectedly process his samples. Had she insulted him? Again? Something had been wrong with Greg for days now.
"Hey, you okay?" she asked kindly.
"Nothing you'd be interested in."
"Look, if you need to talk…"
"I know, I know. The shrink…"
"I was going to say that I'm going to head back to the coffee house on break. Wanna tag along?" Sara offered, wondering if she should have recommended he talk to Dr. Kane when he gave her a bright-eyed smile. His mood swings were starting to frighten her.
"Sure. If you don't mind."
"Of course not," Sara said, trying to smile convincingly. "My DNA?"
"Is still replicating," Greg said, stopping himself from saying 'beautiful'. "The sample wasn't very good."
"Okay, let me know if you get anything from it."
"You're my top priority," he called out, smiling until she was out of sight.
As a master chess player, he knew the risks of repeating a strategy, but the sympathy ploy had been his only successful move so far. It worked a second time, but Greg knew he couldn't count on it much longer.
Of course, that wasn't a concern. He was slowly, but steadily, moving Sara in for the check. Soon the mate would follow. Oh. Wow. He smiled dreamily as he leaned back, his overactive imagination supplying the details.
Hearing the sound of someone crashing off of a stool, Archie poked his head into the DNA Lab. Seeing Greg's goofy grin, he shook his head as he made his way towards his own domain. Someone had to do something before Greg got himself into too much trouble.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Catherine let out a disgusted breath as she picked up another stack of reports stained with green gobs of greasy grasshopper guts. As a precaution, she'd worn a double pair of gloves and a set of coveralls, but she still wanted to take a long, hot shower when she was done.
"His own damned fault. Left his grasshoppers out. Why does he have grasshoppers here anyway? Keep his damned bugs at home. Bet Sara would love that."
Flopping down in his chair, she began sorting out the forms and reports into stacks based on how damaged they were. "What a mess. I can't turn in forms with insect guts on them," she muttered, pausing after a few minutes. She wouldn't turn in reports that looked like this, but would anyone be surprised if Gil did?
She let out a growl as she resumed the sorting process, seeing no way to avoid the task. This batch of paperwork was actually legible; no one would believe Gil had filled them out. Next time she did his paperwork, she'd have to remember to drink a gallon of coffee beforehand.
"Turn up the air conditioning and set out a heating pad! Hah. Acts like that's common knowledge. Did he really want me to bother him to round them up? I don't think so."
Despite her bad mood, Catherine felt the corners of her lips start to upturn. It had taken the pair of them long enough, but she was glad they were making progress. Gil deserved to be happy, even if she felt he needed a flyswatter upside the head on occasion. Sara was the perfect person to do it.
"I hope you appreciate this, Gil," she said when he entered his office later that shift.
"Well, you trashed it. Only fair you clean it up," he said, recoiling when she snarled at him. "I wanted to give you a warning."
"Leave any other cages open?"
"No, but be on the lookout for my snake. All the grasshopper parts might tempt him back in."
"I'm not afraid of snakes, Gil. You can't fool me with that line," she said, giving him a sharp look.
"I'm serious," Grissom replied, shaking his head as he went back to work. Why did it surprise her that a snake could wander loose in the lab? There were plenty of places for one to hide.
Catherine returned to the paperwork, wondering how it managed to multiply during their discussion. "It's my imagination. It only looks like there's more. Damn. I'm talking to myself. This can't be good."
She paused when she heard a slithering sound coming from somewhere under one of Grissom's shelves. Maybe he had been serious about the snake. He never mentioned if it was poisonous or not, though. A smile formed anyway. "I'll strangle him with it," she vowed.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Hey!"
Hearing Sara's call, Grissom paused in front of the elevator, waiting until she joined him to press the call button. He started to smile, but her serious expression made him curious.
"I'm on my way to see Al. He's re-examining the killing. What's up?"
"Did you yell at Greg?" she asked.
"No more than normal," Grissom replied after thinking over the last few shifts.
"Something's wrong with him. He's really down in the dumps."
"Are you sure you're not exaggerating?" he asked pointedly as he moved into the elevator. When she didn't follow, Grissom used his crutch to block the door from closing until she entered. "Again?"
Sara blushed as she leaned against the elevator wall. Grissom had still been worrying about his performance when they moved to his bedroom earlier. Since telling him outright that he'd been great hadn't helped, she figured being more appreciative during the act might work better.
She must have gone overboard, because he hadn't been amused.
"I told you. I always over-talk around you."
"I don't think that qualifies as speech," he huffed, finally giving her a smile when she rolled her eyes at him. "It sounded like something out of a bad porn movie."
"Speaking from experience?" she quipped, grinning when he looked at her sheepishly.
"You're exposed to a lot on this job."
"What case did you learn that?"
Grissom didn't take the bait, instead raising an eyebrow at her. "You don't have to stroke my ego."
"As I recall, that wasn't what I was stroking when you complained."
"Sara," he sighed.
"I said I was sorry. If you'd trust me, it never would have happened," she said, resting a hand gently on his arm. "You're incredible."
"No grunts this time?"
"Didn't think elevators were your thing," Sara pointed out, changing the subject to one that was less embarrassing, at least to her. "Is there such a thing as a good porn movie?"
"That would depend on your definition of 'good'," he teased back.
"I'm asking you."
"Is there any safe answer to that question?" he asked, following her out of the elevator.
"Why ruin my fun by telling you?" Sara said as they moved towards the morgue. "And I wasn't joking. Greg's acting very weird."
"Weird is Greg's normal state."
"Then he's being un-weird. Seriously, something's not right with him."
"I could have told you that," Grissom replied seriously. "I don't know what could be bothering him. Why don't you take him on a case with you? He likes going out in the field."
"Okay. Greg and I are going on break together later. I'll tell him then."
"You and Greg? I think I need to have a talk with my sources. That's definitely not the story making the rounds in the office grapevine," Robbins said lightly when they entered the morgue.
"Remind me to pick up some herbicides," Sara muttered softly as she left the morgue.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Bobby glanced around nervously, then leaned forward over the workbench, making sure to keep his voice low. "Don't go messin' in other people's business."
"You want to see Sara go after Greg," Archie replied.
"Hell, yeah!"
"I thought you were friends!"
"We are, but damn! That'll be a sight. I don't want to miss that one."
"Archie's right," Jacqui added. "He's really in over his head this time."
"I thought you wanted to see Greg get walloped," Bobby said disappointedly. Her lab was the closest to DNA, and when he'd gotten on an ABBA kick last summer, she'd threatened to turn Greg into a dancing queen.
"Walloped, not killed," she said.
"You surprise me," Bobby stated sadly.
"Who's going to spring for the good coffee if he's dead?"
"I guess you have a point there."
"Guys," Archie exclaimed. "Come on. Let's get serious."
Bobby and Jacqui exchanged shrugs. They had been serious.
"So what do we do?" the ballistics expert asked.
"We have to tell Sara."
"Is that a good idea?" Jacqui asked. "I mean, we've known all this time what he's been up to. Won't she get mad at us for not saying anything sooner?"
"Oh, man, that's a good point."
"I thought you wanted to see Sara go off," Archie snapped.
"Not at me!"
"Well, what else can we do? Greg won't listen. I'm not going to tell, Grissom. Are you?" he asked his colleagues, who both shook their heads as they loudly declined. "We have to tell Sara."
"What, exactly, do you have to tell her?"
All three turned to find their supervisor standing behind them, a curious look on his face. When he'd heard his name mentioned along with "not me", he'd made his way into the Fingerprint Lab, wondering if someone had screwed up a test result.
Grissom was beginning to question that. He shifted to a more comfortable position on his crutches, waiting for an explanation. The lab techs stared at him, their mouths alternately opening and closing like a school of highly-educated guppies.
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TBC
