Hands Off

Humor

Rating: PG13

Pairings: Eventually - and it'll like cause a change of rating, too.

Disclaimer: No one is mine. I just like to make them laugh. Or to laugh with them. Okay, yes, and at them.

Chapter 4: Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any. – Unknown

After Greg's fall from grace, Catherine embarked on a one woman crusade to take down another CSI. Using all her skills, she observed her colleagues for signs of weakness. At first, she could barely tell anything was amiss but after another week had gone by, the tension was steadily growing in the crime lab. By day ten of the wager, Catherine had identified the next to fall. Nick. Most definitely, Nick.

She hadn't set out specifically to bring Nick down; it was more an opportunity that presented itself and she merely took advantage. She and Nick were teamed for a homicide. The victim, Jenna Magenta (both CSIs had struggled in vain not to snicker at the stage name), was a topless showgirl from the chorus line at the Tropicana. She had been strangled in her dressing room and Catherine knew Nick was in trouble the moment they entered the building.

"Oh my God," Catherine heard him breathe as they entered behind stage where a dozen topless dancers all huddled together in fear and concern.

"Oh jeez," she heard Nick murmur as they entered the dancers' dressing room and found the body of the equally unclothed victim sprawled on the floor, her glassy eyes staring heavenward.

Catherine was sure she heard Nick groan when she crouched to take her first close look at the victim. And it was at that point that she decided Nick was a goner.

"Wow!" Catherine exclaimed. "What a rack!"

Nick made tortured murmuring noises above her.

Grinning with malice, Catherine stood up and pulled rank. "I'll process the body. You go have a chat with Snow White and her ten naked sisters, find out everything they know."

Nick muttered something unintelligible. When Catherine looked at him, she could see he was struggling, trying to decide what was actually the lesser of the evils.

"Nick?" Catherine prodded, crouching down again. "Sometime this century?"

Shaking his head, the handsome Texan turned back toward the sobbing women. "Warrick gets a DB at Clear Springs Nursing Home and I have to come here," he muttered, his voice nearly cracking.

Catherine leaned back on her heels, dragging her field kit closer. "And no taking them two at once, Nicky." She was all but choking on her words. "One at a time."

This time, Catherine had no doubt that she heard Nick give a short anguished cry as he left the dressing room. The senior CSI whistled under her breath. "He doesn't stand a chance," she told the newly departed. "Now, let's see about catching whoever did this to you."

By the time they were back in their Tahoe headed toward home, Catherine had begun to have second thoughts about her great plan. Nick was all but impossible, ranting first about Warrick drawing a case at a geriatric hospital before taking Grissom to task for assigning him to a bunch of showgirls when he knew what was at stake. Then he launched into a diatribe about Sara and women in general and how the guys should have gotten better odds because abstinence was easier for women. Catherine pointed out that she had been the first to succumb which only set Nick off on yet another tangent about how Catherine shouldn't have even been included in the original bet. By the time the senior CSI pulled the SUV into the crime lab lot, she was sure her ears were bleeding.

It had taken the two CSIs nearly the entire night to process the Tropicana crime scene including the potential witnesses so it was no surprise that their cohorts were already crowded into the breakroom and downing strong cups of coffee. Apparently, judging from Greg's presence, it was his coffee in particular and he was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep Grissom from using any of it in the current brew.

"Hey all," Catherine greeted her fellows. She was relieved to finally be amid relatively normal humans again, Nick's demeanor on the trip back having deteriorated to intolerable.

Warrick and Sara, looking distinctly annoyed, grunted something noncommital in return.

Grissom, still managing to ward off Greg, smiled brightly. "Took you long enough. How'd it go?"

Catherine dropped her purse, shrugged off her jacket, and sank into the couch perilously close to Warrick.

"Oh, fine –"she paused as Warrick threw her a sour look and got up, moving to the other side of the room. Catherine laughed. It was worth losing her $20 if only to torment the men. "Fine, got loads of trace. Off hand, I'd say definitely someone she knew."

"Just acquaint don't –"Grissom began but Catherine cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, don't draw conclusions. I know the spiel, Gil." Catherine waved him off then suddenly realized she was missing something. "Where's Nick? He was right behind me a couple of minutes ago."

The others realized that they, too, had only caught the most fleeting glimpse of the dark-haired Texan. Catherine suddenly broke into uproarious laughter, something the others found at odds with her perfectly manicured turnout.

"Oh, my God...he didn't..." she trailed off. "He wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" Grissom asked.

"Well, the, uh, case you assigned us to? The death at the Trop? Imagine a dozen topless showgirls all sobbing over the death of one of their own." Catherine rolled her hand for emphasis.

"Oh, Gris! You dog, you!" Warrick hollered amid hoots of laughter from Greg and Sara.

Grissom considered. "So there's a good chance a certain someone should be contributing to Betsy's college fund?"

After the briefest of pauses, the breakroom emptied, the five investigators rushing for Grissom's office. As expected, they caught Nick stuffing two $10 bills into Betsy's cage.

"Nick!" Catherine admonished. Having spent virtually every minute of the shift with him, she was clearly shocked that he was putting in the money now.

Greg burst out laughing. "You are so busted!"

Warrick and Grissom just stood silently shaking their heads in disbelief. It wasn't so much the idea that Nick had failed the wager (Grissom would have calmly explained that it was inevitable) but the CSIs couldn't quite grasp when he'd had time to lose the bet.

It was Catherine who innocently blurted these thoughts out. "When? I mean...I was right there..."

Sara, Warrick, Grissom and Greg all turned shocked eyes toward the redhead. "Oh, knock it off, you guys. I didn't mean right there."

Nick's intense discomfort was clear for all to see. He looked totally, utterly miserable, as if he'd just run over his sister's puppy.

"I...I..." he stammered.

Warrick suddenly threw up a hand to stop the explanation. "Man, I really do not want to hear this," he gasped backing out of the office.

Sara was more tenacious. Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. "Where? You just got back!"

Warrick was now visibly shaken. "And I really don't need to know that." Even the ever-ebullient Greg looked disconcerted about knowing too many details.

Grissom put a halt to the banter. "Hey, the important thing is we're down to three." He paused, grinning at Sara and Warrick, giving Nick the chance to escape the spotlight.

But as Nick tried to inch past Sara, she pinched his arm. "Nice going, Quick Draw," she hissed, then laughed at the instant blush that appeared in the man's cheeks.

Nick's eyes narrowed and he fixed Sara with a cold, hard stare. "Yeah, well, at least I had a sex life to miss in the first place."

Normally, Sara would have taken offense but since she sensed that victory was within her grasp, she decided to be magnanimous. "You know what Germaine Greer said – no sex is better than bad sex."

"Figures a woman would say that." Nick didn't wait to hear any more. He disentangled himself from Sara and pushed his way past Warrick, storming off down the hall.

"So, three bad little monkeys down. Three good little monkeys left," Greg intoned, pointing to the appropriate parties. Once again, the lanky lab tech found himself at the center of belligerent glares. "I'm leaving now...back to labworld....yep, just lil' ol' satisfied me, going back to my hole in the ground...." With that, Greg seemed to disappear.

Catherine contemplated Warrick, Grissom and Sara in turn. "I must say, now this is getting interesting."