Hands Off
Humor
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: No one is mine. I just like to make them laugh. Or to laugh with them. Okay, yes, and at them.
Chapter 5: Give me chastity and continency - but not yet! St. Augustine of Hippo, AD 354-430: Confessions
The dusk was a long-standing affair in Las Vegas and the sun was trying desperately to set when Catherine Willows pulled into her parking space. She was running late and though she had no time to waste, a commotion farther down the parking lot caught her attention. She spotted fellow investigator Warrick Brown in a heated argument with a long-legged, impossibly sexy , caramel-skinned brunette. She was too far away to hear their words, but their body language was loud and clear.
Catherine waited and watched, a curious smile of amusement creasing her lovely features. Suddenly, the darker woman, eyes wide with shock, took a step back from an obviously pleading Warrick, her indignation clearly apparent even from a distance. She pursed her lips and delivered a stinging slap across Warrick's face.
Catherine's perfect eyebrows shot skyward in surprise but she turned away, moving toward the main door, suddenly uncomfortable at where this was leading. However, her curiosity got the better of her and she slowly looked back. Warrick was standing there, immobile, his face a mask of self-control and vexation. As the woman turned on her heel and climbed into her Miata, he slowly rubbed his stricken face and watched her gun the car out of the lot. Catherine could see him take a deep steadying breath as he turned toward the crime lab.
Warrick was clearly startled to see Catherine unabashedly watching him but as was his style, he quickly collected himself and sauntered toward his petite colleague.
Catherine couldn't help but grin. "Trouble in paradise?"
He shrugged, continuing past her and grabbing hold of the door. "You might say that."
Catherine couldn't resist Warrick, ever the gentleman. He opened the door for her. "The bet?" she guessed, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.
He sighed deeply. "Yeah, I finally ran out of excuses and had to explain to her why I, um, couldn't...you know..."
Catherine fixed her friend with a compassionate look. "I can't say I blame her. I'd be pissed, too." She raised her hand and patted his cheek, wincing in sympathy when he flinched. "Oh, sorry," she apologized. "So now she's an ex-ex-girlfriend?" Catherine asked as she walked through the door, Warrick following her.
"That's my take on it," he said, his voice filled with resignation.
Catherine couldn't resist laughing. "Is it really worth $120?"
"It's not the prize," Warrick answered after a beat, his face breaking into a rueful smile. "It's the victory."
Catherine was still unconvinced. "Well, all I know is in the week since Nick fell out of the race, he's been the happiest person I've ever known. And that's saying a lot because he was a ridiculously happy person before this bet ever began."
Warrick couldn't argue and he remained pensive, leaving Catherine at Grissom's office as he headed to his locker. When he returned to the office for the nightly assignments. Nick and Catherine were chatting merrily but Sara was deliberately staying out of the conversation, studying a tray of mounted Southeast Asian moths. Grissom must have been hitting eBay again. His collection had grown significantly in the last couple of weeks.
Warrick grumbled greetings and took his post in a corner of the room. He then realized that for once, Grissom was the late. Several minutes ticked by and still no sign of the supervisor. Finally, after another quarter hour, he came bustling in, his demeanor rigid and businesslike. He tossed the night's files onto his desk, took out his wallet, pulled out a twenty and stuffed it into Betsy's cage.
The four younger CSIs were agape, utterly speechless. Their boss turned to face them, his taciturn manner clearly challenging that no questions were to be asked. For long moments they all stared at each other until, finally, good-natured Nick let out a soft snicker.
"Stokes, you get the dead body pulled at the sewage treatment plant off I-15."
Nick's jaw dropped but when he saw Grissom's eyes narrow, he knew better than to say anything. He nodded meekly, took his file and vacated the office.
"Brown, you're with him." Warrick stood, mouth open, trying to process how he'd gotten roped in with Nick but the lead CSI merely fixed him with a steely glare. "You'll need your scuba gear."
Warrick exhaled in exasperation and followed in Nick's wake.
Gilbert Grissom glared at the others, his blue eyes flinty and cold. Sara appeared properly subdued, or maybe it was confused, but Catherine, ever the peacemaker, readied herself to placate the older man.
"Gil, it's nothing to be ashamed –"
"Catherine, you get the decomposing torso found a Great Basin National Park. Have a nice ride."
Catherine was anything but amused. Great Basin was more than a two hour drive. As she was trying to formulate an appropriate complaint, Sara piped up.
"Grissom, don't you think you're being a little hard –"
"You go with her, Ms. Sidle." Grissom's voice had taken on an sharp edge. "The torso was found in a heavy-duty plastic bag - sealed tight. In the sun. For days. Bring a bucket."
Sara, showing the strain of the wager, stood up and fixed her boss with eyes sparking in anger. "You are such a sore loser," she spat, snatching the folder and marching out of the room. Catherine, still too angry to comment, followed her.
After they were gone, Grissom grinned wickedly. "Yeah, but I'm a sore loser in charge of cases."