Disclaimers, etc. in Part 1

Part 2

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"Hey, Griss, you're bleeding," said Warrick. He and Grissom were working a B&E in the Mandalay Bay, a rock star whose room had been broken into and trashed. Grissom looked up in confusion and then checked his hands, wondering if he had somehow nicked himself on the broken glass he was bagging, but found nothing. "Your back," clarified Warrick. Grissom had taken off his protective vest as soon as LVPD had cleared the room and taken guard at the entrance, deciding he was too hot and it was hindering his movement too much.

Standing up, Grissom crossed to the bathroom and twisted himself into a position where he could see his back in the mirror. "Oh, must have scraped against something, there's glass everywhere" he said casually.

Warrick nodded, but furrowed his brow a little as he realized that there was no tear mark on Grissom's shirt, not even a slight catch, making him wonder how his back had been cut but not his shirt. Deciding it wasn't worth bothering about, he returned to his task of collecting evidence.

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"Must have been some scrape," said Warrick as he loaded the evidence into the SUV, "your back seems to have a few cuts. Your shirt is pretty bloody."

"I have a spare shirt in my office," said Grissom, getting into the driver's seat. "I'll change when we get back."

"What do you think you scraped against?" queried Warrick. "Was it at the scene?"

"I don't know, I didn't feel it happen."

"You should probably put some antiseptic or something on it, just to be safe."

"I'll attend to it later," said Grissom, his tone gruff enough to end the conversation.

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A knock at his office door stopped Grissom in his tracks. "Who is it?" he called.

"It's Sara," answered a voice muffled by the closed door.

Grissom opened the door slowly, peering at her around its edge. "Come in," he said, pulling her by the arm and quickly closing the door. The blinds on his office windows/walls were all shut and the room was sparsely lit by a single lamp on his desk.

"What the --? Grissom, what's going on?" she asked as she took in the sight before her. Grissom was shirtless and, since he was facing her, Sara got a full view of his chest, though her eyes were quickly drawn to his muscular forearms.

"Did you bring it?" he demanded.

"Yes, but what's all this about?" Ignoring her question, Grissom held his hand out and waited for her to extract a bottle from her pocket and pass it to him. "Grissom?" she said, her patience quickly waning.

"This is what it's about," he replied, turning his back to her. "You need to cut your nails!"

"Oh my G… She trailed off as her eyes roamed over his back, noting the cuts. "You're saying I did that?"

"Yes," he confirmed, turning around to face her once more.

"I'm sorry," she said seriously, "I didn't realize."

"Neither did I," he admitted. "Warrick noticed blood on my shirt at a scene. I guess we need to curb our pre-shift activities." There was a smile on his face and his voice changed from serious to teasing.

"If I remember correctly, those activities were your idea," she smirked.

"You were a willing participant," he pointed out. "Can you put that on my back please?" he asked politely, returning the bottle to her. "I can't reach."

She took the antiseptic from him and removed the cap, then stopped suddenly. "Shouldn't we lock the door? Anyone walking in here now would get totally the wrong impression."

"Actually, they'd get the right impression," he commented. "But, if I lock the door, that'll just arouse suspicions further."

Nodding, she removed some cotton balls from her pocket and dripped some antiseptic onto one of them, motioning for Grissom to turn around. "What did you tell Warrick had happened?" she asked.

Grissom explained what excuse he had used as she dabbed his back to clean the wounds. He hissed with pain as the antiseptic-soaked cotton made contact and then looked over his shoulder to glare at her as he heard her chuckle. "If you would keep your nails at a suitable length for dealing with evidence, this wouldn't have happened," he snapped harshly. Sara dug the cotton swab more firmly into his back and he immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that," he said softly. "You do need to cut your nails though."

She finished her task, discarded the used cotton and then looked at her fingers. "They could probably use a trim," she agreed. "Why don't you keep any antiseptic in your kit?"

"I do usually, but I gave it to Sanders yesterday when he tripped at a scene. Haven't had time to replace it yet."

"Well, you can keep that bottle, I have another one," she informed him. He retrieved a new shirt from a drawer, took it out of its packaging and started to put it on, smiling smugly as he knew Sara's eyes were following his every move. "Should I assume you don't want me to come over after shift, give your back a chance to heal?" Her tone held a challenge and he was tempted to call her bluff.

"I think, since you caused the damage, you should be the one to ensure it's healing properly. Therefore, you'll have to regularly check the injuries."

Surprised he managed to sound so casual, she suppressed a smile and said, "I'll be over. Right now, I'm gonna go eat. I was on my way back from the deli when I got this strange page to bring some antiseptic and cotton swabs to my supervisor's office. It was a toss up whether to eat first or not."

"You made a good decision," he smiled.

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"Hey, Sara," greeted Warrick as he arrived in the Break Room and saw her sitting at the table.

"Hey," she smiled in return. "Rough night?" Warrick looked exhausted and made a direct beeline for the coffee pot, pouring a mug and savoring his first sip.

"Yeah. I worked a case with Grissom, then spent the last hour supervising Greg analyzing the evidence we collected." He asked if she wanted some coffee and, when she refused, brought his mug to the table and sat down opposite her. "You're cutting your nails? Here?" he queried, wrinkling his nose as one of Sara's nail clippings came dangerously close to his coffee.

"Yeah, Grissom's orders," she said absently, her breath catching a little as she realized what she'd said. "He made some comment about my nails not being a suitable length for handling evidence." She mentally congratulated herself at her quick cover story and managed to put a suitable amount of emotion into it as she remembered her initial reaction when Grissom had actually said those words.

"Ah, that sounds like Grissom," said Warrick in commiseration.

"What sounds like me?" asked the man himself as he entered the room and poured some coffee.

Another of Sara's clippings hit the side of Warrick's mug and she quickly apologized. "I think I'll go make sure Greg finished up properly," said Warrick, lifting his mug from the table and bidding them goodbye.

Grissom looked to Sara questioningly and she smiled at him. "He wondered why I was cutting my nails, so I told him what you said."

"What?" he said with shock, eyes wide.

"About my nails being too long for handling evidence," she clarified, chuckling as he blew out a breath. "Don't worry, he didn't click."

Grissom nodded and walked towards the door again. "Now that you've cut your nails, normal service can resume tomorrow morning," he said lecherously, winking as he left.

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TBC…

Catherine's next. Will they pull the wool over her eyes so easily?

A/N: Thank you for the reviews so far, they are much appreciated :-)