Turner and Hooch
by Pheo
4.20.05
Summary: Brass makes an offer Sara can't refuse. GSR, of course. Response to the weekly Unbound Improv Challenge, with first and last lines provided and 1,000 words in-between.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Sure
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"What the hell is that doing here?"
"It's a dog, Brass," Sara replied, cooing at the creature in question. "Aren't you, fella?"
"I can see that, but what's Hooch doing at the lab?"
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to look up at him. "His name isn't Hooch; it's Frisco. And Frisco is homeless." She gave the Labrador a final pat before standing up, facing the inquisitive captain.
"His owner was the Brennon girl-- the one who was killed at her apartment." She shook her head sadly, glancing again at the forlorn pooch. "She didn't have any family, either."
Brass stared at the brunette, wondering if the "either" was intended for the dog or for Sara herself. "So what are you doing with him?"
She shrugged. "He's so cute, but I just don't have room in my apartment. It wouldn't be fair."
Brass stuck his hand out to the dog, who sniffed at it for a few moments before licking his fingers. "Hey, Scruffy, watch the slobber," he half-chided, wiping his hand on his pants.
"I had no idea you were so good with dogs, Brass," Sara teased, fully letting the dog lick her own hand.
He winced. "You have no idea where he's been."
"Could say the same for you," she replied, taking the dog's affectionate assault in stride.
Grissom strode up to the trio, eyebrow raised in question. "I thought you were taking him to the shelter," he told Sara.
"Seems that Beauty fell for the beast," Brass quipped, shrugging. Sara glared at him.
"Tell you what. I've got a pretty decent yard, my own place. Why don't you let me take Fido-- you know, until you find a taker for the flea bag."
Sara laughed-- as much as at Brass's unlikely suggestion as at Grissom's hanging jaw. "Are you serious? Because if you are serious, I could come over, you know, and feed him, take care of him, walk him--"
Brass held up a hand at her famous over-talking. "Yeah, sure. Just don't invade my space, you know? Can't have you hanging around all the time, with the dog wanting to make out with you and all that crap."
She laughed and heard Grissom mutter, "Lucky dog," as he quietly walked away.
Rolling her eyes at another of Grissom's loaded remarks, Sara caught Brass's wink. Holding a hand out toward the dog, she grinned, and he took it as a sign to kiss her again.