As usual, they arrived to work separately because they didn't want to raise any unnecessary suspicion. Grissom just tiredly waived his hand in his direction but continued to his office.
Greg didn't even pick the music to loudly accompany him during the night shift and their pagers already beeped.
Grissom entered "Greg's" lab and coughed.
"We are short on stuff this night, a murder was reported…"
He coughed again and Greg finally thought that this is not "diplomatic" coughing used when one is suggesting something unusual or weird. Well, even if it was something unusual, Grissom was very direct when expressing his opinions or observations, he would never cough.
"I'm studying beetles, bugs, I notice the slightest changes. You are a little bit bigger than these. And your face turns red every time I enter the room..."
"I- ehm, just,"
"and, curiously enough, you also always seem to be suddenly carrying notebooks or trays with materials or anything withing reach to cover your thighs and abdomen."
Greg gasped.
Grissom seemingly carelessly threw his business card on the table in front of Greg. On the other side there was a phone number written by hand.
Greg shook his head. That was a few months ago. He heard Grissom say: "a murder was reported, so would you like to go with us to the crime scene?"
He nodded eagerly.
Grissom slightly nodded too, turned away and searched for some tissues in his pockets.
Greg was so excited to be at a real crime scene. He was looking around and taking everything in. He still managed to look at Grissom from time to time. He saw that kneeling down to examine the evidence seemed like an exhausting task for Grissom.
Well, he had in fact never seen Grissom at a crime scene, but his movements seemed more laborious than he would have expected.
"You don't want to sleep in after all this?" Greg asked and lazily stretched in bed.
"No, I'm rejuvenated," Grissom winked. His moves definitely weren't laborious.
And again, another piece of evidence, Grissom almost plopping down instead of kneeling or bending down. Greg couldn't watch it any longer, rushed to Grissom and offered him his hand while getting up.
Grissom sneezed.
"I'm stupid."
"People usually say bless you, but this is an innovation," Grissom said dryly.
"I mean we are short on stuff because there's flu going all around and you are sick too!"
"You might be a detective," was the only way Grissom acknowledged Greg's observation. Then he was ready to give orders again: "Take a photo of this cigarette stub and put it into an evidence bag. Then ask Brass if he needs any help."
"I'll drive," Greg offered before heading back to the lab.
Grissom handed him his car keys. Greg automatically put his hand on the buttons of the car radio, fiddled with the stations for a moment and upped the volume.
Grissom sneezed and for a moment put his hand on his ear. He switched the radio off.
Greg looked at him questioningly.
"It's like listening under the water."
"That bad? Clogged ears?"
"Hopefully," Grissom answered illogically. "Hopefully we are not there yet."
"Still a few miles to the lab, you can nap," Greg answered, clueless about what Grissom meant with there.
Grissom closed his eyes. (And closed his eyes to possible worsening of his ear problems.)