Vodka Induced
TEASER: Sara proves Grissom wrong. Response to the 4-4 Unbound Improv Challenge.
RATING: K+ for language, reference to alcohol, and mild sexual content
SPOILERS: Season 5 through "Spark of Life".
DISCLAIMERS: If I owned it, there would be no basis for this story because Grissom wouldn't have been wrong.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews appreciated, archived at my site, and stop with the reruns already! First and last lines given, 1000 word limit for the story itself; according to MS Word 2003, I made it with4 words to spare.
CSI CSI CSI
Warrick raised his hands, getting out of the line of fire. He didn't like the look in Grissom's blue eyes as his former supervisor glared at Sara across the break room table. Warrick thought it likely that Grissom would launch his coffee mug toward her momentarily.
"What do you mean, I was wrong?" Grissom's tense voice swept right up Warrick's spine, making him wonder if he could escape before this encounter between the geekiest of the geeks could turn violent.
Sara smiled, not letting Grissom's reaction get to her. "You said that the word vodka comes from 'zhizennia vod', 'water of life'. You're wrong."
"Sara . . ." Grissom spluttered.
Warrick shrank back in his chair as Grissom's arm came up in what looked like it might be an overhand throw. The hot coffee in that mug made it a double threat.
Sara just stood her ground, her smile broadening. She's enjoying his loss of control, Warrick realized. God knows it doesn't happen as often to him as to anyone else, and it's probably never happened because of her since he keeps such a tight reign on his feelings for her.
Grissom's arm fell to his side and coffee sloshed out of his mug onto the table. He ignored it, instead heaving a long-suffering sigh and lowering himself into the nearest chair. "Prove it."
"With pleasure." Sara moved around the table to pull out the chair next to Grissom. She reached into the center of the table to grab a stack of napkins and dropped them onto the puddle in front of her supervisor before she plopped into the chair with a triumphant chortle.
"There are two operative theories about the origin of the word 'vodka.' One is simpler – that it is a diminutive form of the Slavic word 'voda', water – so that it literally means 'little water.'"
Warrick sat up, interested now in the actual content of the argument rather than just in surviving in one piece. He noticed that Grissom's scowl had straightened, making it look for all the world like the man was trying not to smile at the lecture Sara had not yet finished.
"That makes sense," Grissom conceded. "What's the other theory?"
Sara's smile improbably got wider, which Warrick thought incredibly attractive. He wondered why Grissom hadn't yet thrown him out of the break room to have his way with her in private.
"Well, my good student, the other is more complicated. There is evidence from manuscripts dating to 1533 that 'vodka' comes from the Russian verbs 'vodit' and 'razvodit', which translate as 'to distill with water'. The term as used in the Novgorod manuscript refers to tinctures of herbal medicines in which alcoholic spirits were diluted with water."
The straight line of Grissom's lips curved up into a small smile and his eyes crinkled in what Warrick knew to be delight. "Cite your source, Professor Sidle."
"An overview of the history of vodka at answers dot com. Before you ask, I verified their sources through the UNLV library system as legitimate scholarly texts."
The look Grissom sent Sara's way told Warrick that the older man had forgotten they had an audience. "Very thorough of you."
"Just doing as I was taught."
"For that, you deserve a drink." To Warrick, it looked as though Grissom's brain caught up with whatever part of his anatomy had been doing the speaking and thinking for the past few minutes when his bearded face scrunched in something that might have been fear.
Sara noticed it too, but instead of pulling away from Grissom as she might have in years past when he exhibited his unease with her, she reached out to pat his arm. "You can buy me coffee on our break later."
Another change came over Grissom. Warrick watched with amusement as Grissom sat up straighter in the chair, cleared his throat, and captured Sara's hand with his own. "No," he growled out, and was smart enough to continue before Sara could get the wrong idea. "I don't mean coffee. I mean . . . Sara, um . . ."
Grissom turned to look at Warrick for the first time since Sara's pronouncement. "Warrick, would you excuse us, please? I need to talk to Sara in private." With that, Grissom stood and pulled Sara up beside him. The two exited the break room and went in silence down the hall toward Grissom's office.
The next morning, as Warrick arrived early to start an interview with a suspect, he saw that Grissom and Sara were very late leaving at the end of their shift. He watched, rooted to the pavement beside his truck, as Grissom walked Sara to the passenger side of his Denali. Grissom's arm hung low around her waist and her head rested on his shoulder.
Even more amazing was the kiss they shared after he handed her up into the SUV.
Jim Brass's voice startled Warrick out of his voyeuristic trance.
"What's that all about?" He pointed toward the osculating scientists.
"Vodka induced Geek love," Warrick answered after a moment to assemble a concise explanation.
"They aren't drunk, are they? Please tell me they're both stone cold sober. If not, God, this would just be – "
"Relax, Jim. It was an amazing display of intellectual one upsmanship on Sara's part that brought this on."
Jim laughed as the kiss kept going. "Geek love. Who knew it could be so entertaining?"
Warrick grinned and clapped the police officer on the shoulder. "Since we scrapped the dating pool last summer, no one wins. Want to start a proposal pool?
"Geek betting? Again?" Jim looked at him with one eyebrow raised.
"Sure." Warrick pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and extracted a ten dollar bill. "It's April 4. I say they'll announce their engagement on May 30, Memorial Day."
Jim took the money with a grin and waved at the couple in question, who had yet to part for breath. "And so it begins."
--Fin--
