No Room To Wiggle
Summary: Grissom tricked Sara into going to a conference with him. What's going to happen now that she knows the truth?
A/N: A follow up to my Improve Challenge short story, Wiggle Room, that one of my betas blackmailed me into writing. A few sprinkled spoilers for season four. Thanks to Ann and Marlou for looking over this.
Rating: PG-13 - may change later.
Disclaimer: If I haven't figured out a way to own CSI by now, I'm never going to.

Chapter 3

If Sara had learned one undisputable fact in all her years as a criminalist, it was that even the best hotel rooms were filthy. After Grissom disappeared into one of the suite's bedrooms, she'd liberally applied nonoxinol-9 to any area she could come in contact with before quickly unpacking.

Moving to the common area to wash out the coffee pot, she surveyed the room. While not up to the standards of a Vegas luxury suite, their accommodations were more than adequate for two people. Hell, the place was considerably larger than the efficiency apartment she lived in. Certainly enough room that Grissom didn't have to feel threatened.

Setting down the pot and moving to the mugs, Sara let out a small growl. Grissom. What the hell was going on there? Things on the plane had been nice, even if he needed to work on his spontaneity. It was obvious he'd thought out possible topics of conversation beforehand. Still, it was comfortable. She missed their talks and suspected Grissom felt the same.

Then they reached the hotel.

Her first reaction on learning that they'd been placed in the same suite was that he was playing another game with her. Grissom's shocked look had settled that. But his continued protestations against sharing a room had quickly gone from endearingly embarrassed to plain insulting.

She shot her eyes to the still-closed bedroom door. It didn't take that long to unpack, and Grissom didn't have that many calls to return. He was hiding. At this rate, she'd have to give his talks in the morning.

When a knock came at the suite's main door, she wondered if he'd ordered in provisions. Well, it didn't matter. They shared a bathroom. He'd have to come out eventually. Even Grissom wasn't that retentive.

Opening the door, she met up with a confused looking visitor. The man was slightly taller than Grissom, and burlier, with a deep olive complexion. Unlike Grissom, patches of his jet-black hair had turned to pure white, skipping gray entirely. The effect made him look like he was in the early stages of Dalmatian.

"I'm so sorry," said the startled man. "You're not Gil."

"No. He's in the other room."

He took a step back, both fluffy eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he rapidly looked her up and down repeatedly. With an exaggerated shake of his head, he crossed his arms over his chest and grinned wildly.

"You are not Sara Sidle."

Sara mimicked his pose, giving him a wide smirk. She recognized the voice from her phone conversation. Grissom was right – Bob Crothers was colorful.

"Well, she's gonna be pissed that I've been reading her mail all these years."

"Get out of here!"

If I could …

"You must be Dr. Crothers."

"Don't call me that!" he whined, scrunching his face up in a playful pout.

"Well, I'm not Sara. We match."

Holding out her hand to him, she was surprised when he ignored it and lifted her off her feet, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. "You have no idea how many years I've been waiting to meet you!"

"Oh, okay. Uh, down, boy, " she stammered, pushing against his shoulders until he set her down. There was friendly, and there was major violations of personal space, but Crothers combined the two with practiced ease. This was Grissom's friend? "We've met. Come on in."

"He-he-he-he-he."

Sara smiled as she led Crothers to the table and chairs in the center of the living area. It wasn't often she met someone who literally cackled. "Coffee?"

"No thanks. I'll get some when we go to dinner. You're Sara Sidle."

"I am? This is getting confusing. I thought I wasn't," she said amicably. "Should I be worried about why you think I'm not?"

"From what Gil described, you weren't what I expected."

"Oh." What exactly has Grissom been telling his friends about me? Wait, Grissom told his friends about me?

"I've known Gil since he was still a polliwog. He's been giving seminars forever. Besides the kid that puked over half the audience, he's never once bothered to tell me about a student. Except for you, that is. You made an impression."

How do you respond to something like that?

"Just like Puke-Boy. Hold on, I'll tell Grissom you're here," she said, getting up quickly to head to the bedroom door.

Despite her embarrassment, Sara's lips twitched. The way Crothers waggled his eyebrows while emphasizing 'impression' was truly comical. She got the feeling his sheer entertainment value got him out of a lot of socially awkward situations. And this was seriously counting as one, at least from her point-of-view.

She leaned against the wall, watching as Grissom crossed the room to greet his friend. Apparently, handshakes weren't in Crothers' repertoire with friends either. As Grissom stoically withstood the backslapping, Sara grinned. Despite their very different styles, she could tell Grissom was happy to see his friend.

"Enough! You owe us dinner," Grissom finally stated.

Waiting until they were in the elevator, Crothers gave him a lopsided grin. "Me? You should be treating. I got you a suite."

"For that, you're buying all week," Grissom told him dryly.

Crothers' considerable eyebrows moved in a state of momentary confusion, before he shrugged it off. He grinned as he landed a powerful slap across Grissom's shoulders.

"Oh, come on! It's better than Tijuana."

When both men started laughing, Sara turned to Grissom inquisitively.

"Gil never told you about our trip to Tijuana? Oh, that was a story."

"The conference organizer screwed up, didn't reserve enough rooms. It was at the height of tourist season, so we had to share rooms. Sixty-two scientists and six rooms."

"You'd be surprised the number of adults you can fit in a single room, when circumstances dictate it," Crothers added, escorting them to the hotel's restaurant. Through the meal, the two men regaled her with stories from that ill-fated conference. She half-choked on her lasagna when they got to the part about finding bugs in the food provided by the organizers. Instead of disgust, the entomologists had set up mini-expeditions, seeing who could find the best specimen.

"That reminds me, Gil. The poker game is tentatively set for Wednesday night."

"I don't think I'll be joining this year."

Crothers immediately turned to Sara. "Don't you play poker?"

She darted her head between the two of them. Was Grissom turning down the invitation because of her? "Not since college. I wasn't too popular in the poker circles."

"You won all their money," Grissom stated with a small smile, cocking his head in confusion when she gave him an embarrassed smirk.

"We, uh, didn't play for money," she said, waiting until his glass was next to his lips. "It was strip poker."

Her confession didn't draw a spew from Grissom, but she grinned wickedly as he tried to compose himself. "If you want to play, don't worry about me. I'm sure I can find something to do."

"Toledo actually has several attractions. You don't have to check them out alone."

"I was in Paris last month. I picked up some Cluizel," Crothers interrupted, waiting until Grissom turned to him. "Your favorites. An entire case."

"Wine?" Sara asked, noticing that he was tempted by whatever it was.

"Chocolates."

"Chocolate-covered grasshoppers. The best out there," Grissom explained. He turned to give her a curious look. "Do you eat grasshoppers now that you're a vegetarian?"

"Bugs weren't a conscious part of my diet before I became a vegetarian."

"What do you say, Gil?"

"I'll pass."

"You're passing up a chance for Cluizel's?" Crothers asked, leaning back in his chair to waggle his eyebrows at Sara.

"I can get them over the Internet. Besides, you never had a chance."

Sara picked her wine glass to hide her smile. As much as Crothers' innuendo irritated her, Grissom's reaction to it was amusing. He'd given her a brief, panicky look before he'd changed the subject.

"Did Gil tell you he was a killer poker player in college?"

"No, he never told me," Sara answered evenly. She'd heard it from Warrick, when they worked a death at a high-stakes poker game. Come to think of it, Grissom had never told her much about his college days, except how he cooked hot dogs.

"Didn't he tell you any of the stories from college?"

"No, not really."

"Bob, your stories are a lot more interesting," Grissom said coolly, but his friend ignored him as he leaned towards Sara.

"Not even his naked romp in Dr. Smith's office? Dr. Anne Smith?"

"It's not how it sounds," Grissom said quickly when Sara stared at him. "I was in the lab over the weekend, doing some research, when I spilled some chemicals on myself. The safety shower in that lab was broken. Your story with the dean is much more interesting."

"Oh, that! My girlfriend and I had had a fight, so I went to make it up to her. Well, she must have liked my apology, because we ended up doing our bunny rabbit impression there in the organic chem lab when the new dean and his wife walked in during a tour of the labs. Gil's story, now that's funny."

"That's okay," Sara said quickly, noticing a muscle twitch on Grissom's face. Whatever this story was, he didn't want it told.

"It's great. Gil already told you he spilled the chemicals. Practical boy that he was, he stripped down before moving to find another shower. He goes into the next lab, but what he didn't know was that the girls from one of the sororities were using that lab to cram for mid-terms," Crothers guffawed. "I guess they wanted some special tutoring, 'cause they blocked the door, wouldn't let him leave. Dr. Smith had to come rescue him."

Sara turned to Grissom sympathetically, but he kept his eyes focused on the remains of his dinner. For someone as introverted as Grissom, that experience had to be humiliating. His continued silence as he stabbed at a piece of salmon spoke volumes.

"Sounds like the sorority girls I knew. That's why I never joined one," she stated, looking back to Crothers to give him an icy stare. "I thought you said this was a funny story."

"Huh?"

"If you'll excuse me, I had a long day and night. I need to get some rest before the conference tomorrow. It was … nice to meet you," Sara said, exiting the restaurant before Grissom could be further embarrassed.

Dammit. I know that's a story he never wanted me to hear. He's really going to retreat now. I wonder if we'll even talk the rest of the week. This was our one chance to work on this away from work. If Crothers screwed this up, I'll … dammit!

Sara was still pacing the room when Grissom entered carrying a small bag. He froze briefly when he saw she was still awake, but gave her a small smile as he approached.

"I thought you might want some dessert. I can put in the fridge if you don't want it now."

"I, uh, thanks. I made some coffee. Want some?" Sara asked quickly. Grissom was still talking to her, and she wanted to make the most of it while it lasted.

"Sure," he said, moving to sink into one of the chairs. He played with the bag's handles until the mug appeared in front of him. "Thank you."

Sara stopped her course for the chair on the opposite side of the table to take the one next to him. Grissom's thanks had been soft, but she knew he wasn't talking about the coffee. She waited until he slid the bagged dessert towards her before speaking.

"Interesting friend you have."

"Bob? He is a nice guy, but Bob has never been embarrassed a day in his life. He doesn't understand that other people don't share that trait.."

She gave him an understanding shrug. Unfortunately, Sara knew the type, but she usually made an effort to avoid them. Sliding out the piece of chocolate-caramel cheesecake, she grinned when she found they'd included two plastic forks in the bag. "Dig in."

When Grissom looked up, she nodded, pushing the slice between them. He gave her a slight smile before taking a small bite.

"So, when are the cockroach races?" she asked after a few silent moments were spent savoring the dessert.

"Preliminaries are in the afternoons, Monday through Wednesday. The finals will be Friday," he said, getting up to rinse out his coffee mug.

"Giving them a day off to rest?"

"Well, most people will be gone on Thursday."

"That's right. 'Have fun on company time' day. What are you planning to do?"

"I was thinking we could head out to Cedar Point."

Sara grinned as she tossed the plate and forks. She couldn't remember the last time Grissom had sounded so nervous. So he did want them to spend some time together. She gave him a grin as he took her coffee mug.

"So, what's at Cedar Point?"

"Roller coasters."

"Roller coasters?"

"Oh, yeah. Cedar Point is the roller coaster capital of the world!" Grissom said excitedly. "Bob's been waiting for years to organize the Entomological Society's convention so we could come here."

"We traveled 1,700 miles so you could ride a roller coaster?" Sara asked as he headed towards his room.

"Actually, 16 roller coasters. And it's a full amusement park. They have other rides."

"Roller coasters?" Sara repeated incredulously.

"I like them. Goodnight."

"Roller coasters?" she said to the now empty room. "He likes roller coasters. Being jerked back and forth and going around in circles … God, that explains a lot."

TBC