Title: Questions and Answers
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own CSI. If you sued me, all you'd get is a very old car and a few neurotic pets.
A/N: Thank you's go to CSI ShipperGirl for the very quick beta. Oh, and Joseph Schmidt is a real confectioner, so maybe I should thank them for making such wonderful truffles.
"I'm with Sara on this," Jacqui said, "chocolate is better than sex."
"You ladies just haven't had good sex then. Perhaps you should find a different partner," Greg said, with a look on his face that Sara was sure was intended to be suggestive but really appeared more constipated than anything else.
"I'm sure that's what it is, Greg, and let me guess, you'll nobly offer yourself as a new partner, right?" Sara said sarcastically
"Of course, I am ever glad to be of service," Greg said with a bow. Unfortunately the courtly effect was ruined by the giggles of both women, and seeing this, Greg also began to laugh. It was quite possible that the three people would have stood there laughing forever if Grissom hadn't been walking down the hall at that precise moment. Hearing the giggles, he stopped by the lab and frowned at the two lab rats and his CSI.
"Is there a problem?" He said, somewhat perplexed at seeing three of his staff members standing around giggling madly.
"Um, no…none." Sara said, wiping the tears from her eyes and attempting to regain her composure. "Greg was, uh, giving me the results from that unknown substance found in that asphyxiation victim's nostrils," she finished, with a minimum of coughing or stammering.
"And?" Grissom asked, perhaps a trifle impatiently.
"Chocolate," Greg chimed in, "specifically the kind you get out of a tub and paint all over someone's body." Upon successful completion of the sentence, he started giggling again.
"And how did this fact result in three adults figuratively rolling on the floor instead of trying to determine who might have done this to the vic?" Grissom said repressively.
"Well, sir," Jacqui said, "Greg asked whether Sara and I would rather have sex or eat chocolate. Sara said she'd rather eat chocolate. I agreed with her, Greg disputed our statements, and it, uh, went downhill from there."
"I see. Why are you in Greg's lab in the first place, Jacqui?" Grissom asked, still not entirely clear on what was going on here.
"I was given a print made of that substance. I wanted to know what it was," she shrugged. "The print's running through AFIS, so I had a short break." The computer in her lab chose that moment to beep, indicating a match. Jacqui moved into her lab and grabbed the printout. "AFIS says it's a John Voss," she said as she handed the paper to Grissom.
"He's in the system for…traffic violations? Doesn't sound like the type to asphyxiate his lover," Sara said, unashamedly reading over Grissom's shoulder.
"Well, we'll go find out. Thank you Greg, Thank you Jacqui," Grissom said as he steered Sara out towards the parking lot.
They walked to the Tahoe in silence, but once inside Grissom couldn't resist questioning Sara about the earlier topic, as unwise as the question probably was. "So, you think chocolate is better than sex?" he said, somewhat diffidently.
Sara smiled. "It depends on the chocolate, honestly. Is sex better than Hershey's? Definitely – that stuff's more wax than chocolate. Better than Joseph Schmidt? That's a tough call."
"Joseph Schmidt?" He questioned.
"It's a little confectionary in the Castro," she said with a dreamy smile, referring to a rather unique neighborhood in San Francisco. "They make the world's best chocolate. I swear their Grand Marnier truffles cause spontaneous orgasms." Suddenly she looked at him and quirked an eyebrow. "I seem to recall you being rather impressive yourself in the orgasm-causing department. Care to pit yourself against Grand Marnier truffles?"
Grissom could hardly believe his ears. After all my screw-ups over the past ten years, she's still willing to give me another chance? There is a god! "I…that could be an interesting experiment," he managed to say in something resembling his normal tone of voice. Sara smiled mischievously and said "It's a date, then."
That conversation was the beginning of the answer to the question Gil Grissom asked himself in wonder when he woke up next to a naked Sara Sidle a few weeks later…namely, "How did he keep getting himself into these situations?"