Hairstyle

By Dany

Summary: Too much fun in the lab can cause a lot of chaos.

A/N: This is a response to a Challenge on YTDaW. The requirements were:
- Musings on Grissom's Beard by Sara
- Someone mentions the wonderful magic of velcro.
- A rotten banana with lipstick on the skin.
- Greg has a hair bleaching accident
- A lighter shaped like a gun
- Something non-lethal explodes in Grissom's face
- A reference to Jeopardy
- Brass has to say "They don't make them like that anymore".
- Can be as many words as you like.

Thanks as always to Ace for her help.

Disclaimer: CSI does not belong to me.

xxxxx

Click!

Grissom looked up from his work when he heard his office door shut and was surprised to find Sara leaning against it.

Her head was lowered, her eyes were clenched shut, and her lips formed a tight line. She was shaking her head from side to side, making her hair swing.

He had never seen her like that, so...screwed up. "Sara, is everything okay?"

Her head kept shaking, and Grissom was really getting worried. "Sara?"

He moved out of his seat towards her, lifting his hands, wanting to touch her, to get her to look at him, but they kept hovering in the air. As so often, he froze when Sara was near.

Suddenly, she let out a yelp. His eyes flew to her face again, wondering what was wrong, but instead of pain, he found her eyes filled with mirth.

The moment their eyes met, Sara broke down.

She began to slide down the door, now shaking more than ever – this time clearly with laughter.

Grissom gripped her arms to keep her from falling while she let her mirth escape. He could only watch until she calmed down.

Sara's stomach hurt. She could feel tears running down her face; whether from laughter or pain, she couldn't tell.

Somewhere she had realized that Grissom was there and that he was worried about her, but she couldn't stop.

"Griss…" she tried to explain what had her in this crazy state, but the laughter was stronger. She just kept laughing until she was short of breath and had trouble taking in some much needed oxygen.

As she gulped in a few breaths, she could feel his hand rubbing her back. His touch sent shivers through her, making her knees tremble. That, along with the lack of oxygen and shaking with mirth, made her legs give out and let her slide down even further. Grissom caught her, keeping a firm grip under her shoulders, and pulled her back up.

Her arms wrapped around his neck automatically, which only served to bring her closer to him. She could feel his arms loosening their grip for a second in total confusion before he tightened them again, putting them in an awkward hug.

"Sara?" he whispered in her ear.

There was the desire to run away obvious in his voice, but he held on.

His face was so close to hers; so close.

After some time in his arms, Sara began to relax. His soothing presence eased her breathing and made her forget the image that had caused her breakdown. Air was able to flow through her lungs again, strengthening her body so that she could stand on her own.

She was still a bit shaky though, and Grissom helped her over to one of the chairs. He was still waiting for an explanation, but Sara knew she would not get it out without bursting into an uncontrollable laughing fit again. She took a deep breath and pointed over her shoulder.

"DNA lab, Greg…" she ground out, desperately trying to hold on, already failing.

Grissom raised his eyebrows in typical fashion. With a shrug of his shoulders, knowing Sara had yet to regain control, he left his office in search for Greg Sanders.

xxxxx

Sara sat back in the chair, trying to relax.

The thought about Greg kept haunting her, and she let a giggle escape from time to time. She knew she had to be in control before Grissom arrived because he would be…something.

To divert her thoughts from the walking disaster that was Greg Sanders today, she returned to a couple of minutes ago.

The way Grissom had held her, his hand on her skin where her shirt had ridden up, his breath on her neck. His neck had been so close, and his whispered words were so sweet in her ear. Whispered words…

In that moment she swore she was able to feel the tickle of his beard. More than anything else, it had made her feel alive. She had always wondered what Grissom felt like, but with the beard, her fascination had grown. It gave him more character while, at the same time, it added more mystery – things that drew her to him.

She had once overheard some techs saying it made him look old and plump, but in her opinion, they were just being jealous. Grissom was older than most of the men that worked there, but he was the boss and despite him being 'old' and 'plump', he drew eyes. The beard was only another plus, another eye catcher.

Now she knew what it felt like…and she wanted more.

Her line of thought was interrupted when the door opened and slammed shut.

Sara turned and saw Grissom standing in almost the same position she had been a short while ago.

The only difference was that Grissom was not breaking down with laughter; but that would not be him. He had that glint in his eyes though, and the corners of his mouth were twitching uncontrollably. He was trying to remain stoic on the outside, but it seemed like he was fighting a losing battle. Understandable, considering what he must have seen.

While he was trying to compose himself, she took the time to stare at him openly.

His face didn't hide anything for once, probably because all of his efforts went into trying not to laugh. One look into his eyes, and she felt her stomach flip, the heat rising. Grissom open, on the border of hilarity, made her hormone levels fly off the charts.

With one last grin, Grissom seemed to get himself back under control, and Sara lowered her eyes to avoid direct confrontation. Slowly, he pushed himself off of the door, walking over to sit down next to her.

"Is there an explanation for this?" he asked, his mouth already twitching again.

"Sure," Sara deadpanned, but waited for a moment before elaborating.

Grissom cocked his head to the side, looking at her with genuine interest. She could see his mind working on a possible explanation, but he seemed to come up empty. Sara bit her lip to avoid laughing again, and with a deep breath, she recounted what she knew.

"Apparently, Greg lost the bet he had made with Jacqui yesterday, but I didn't think it would be that bad."

Grissom was not quite following her reasoning so he asked, feeling totally out of the loop, "What bet?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Sara flushed at her oversight, but explained it in more detail.

"Remember the alley robbery? A man was found hanging upside down from a fire escape, thanks to the wonderful magic of Velcro."

Grissom nodded, and Sara continued, "There was this weird evidence, and Greg made a bet with Jacqui that he could extract the evidence faster than her. He had a rotten banana with lipstick on the skin, and she had a lighter shaped gun. Jacqui hit jackpot just before the end of last shift so…"

Sara couldn't help the giggle that rose in her throat. "Greg had to dye his bangs blond."

Sara sat back, watching a stunned Grissom processing the information she had just given to him.

"And why this…this…" words failed him, as he tried to recall that image again.

"I have NO idea."

They smiled at each other, pondering the absurdity of the situation.

xxxxx

Their peace didn't last long.

Suddenly there was a crash and a shriek outside which made both of them jump to their feet and hurry over to the door. Grissom was the first to arrive, ripping it open at exactly the same moment when Greg ran past the office.

Sara looked over his shoulder, almost bumping into him when he came to a halt to avoid taking down – or being taken down by – the lab tech.

"Hey skunk, where's the fire?" Nick called, glancing into the hall from one of the labs. His smirk at Greg's obvious distress was only widening at the word 'skunk'.

Sara hid her face behind Grissom's back as she burst out laughing again, and soon she needed something to hold on to. She leaned forward so that her head was touching Grissom right between the shoulder blades.

At first he stiffened, but he then relaxed somewhat when he heard the muffled sounds of her mirth. He realized that she wouldn't pull away any time soon. Besides, he had to focus on Greg again.

He was surprised when he saw Jacqui emerge from her lab, the anger clearly written all over her face. Whatever Greg had done, it was probably connected to the lost bet.

"Greg, Jacqui," he called out in warning.

He thought he saw Greg's new distinctive hair emerging from under one of the desks in the room on the other side of the hallway for a moment, and Jacqui hurried away in the direction of the women's room.

At that moment, Grissom was convinced that Ecklie was right; his whole staff was crazy.

He had to put an end to it.

Without thinking about the woman behind him, he stepped out of his office, almost making her fall. Her reflexes were good enough to catch herself on the doorframe. "Grissom!"

He spun around, shocked at his own thoughtlessness. "Sara…I'm…"

He was cut off by Warrick's voice booming through the hallways. "Sanders, what the hell is that?"

Grissom lowered his head and sighed, before looking up at Sara. "Hold that, I'll get back to you," he said, and then he stormed away in the direction of Warrick's voice.

He found the younger man in the print lab, standing over a rigged desk – Jacqui's desk. It didn't seem possible to get to it at all.

Preparing himself to call for Greg, he took a deep breath, but before he could actually raise his voice he noticed Greg standing in the doorway.

"Greg," his face betrayed his suppressed anger as he lectured the lab tech, "if you want to become a CSI, grow up. This will not do. One more stunt like that, and I'll have to note it officially."

He saw Greg shrink with every word, but Greg was not the only one that needed a reminder of the seriousness of their work.

"The same goes for anyone else. No childish behavior," he turned to Warrick, making it clear that he should spread the word around.

There was a limit to a relaxed atmosphere at work. "And don't let me catch you making such childish bets again. Now remove that."

Grissom was about to turn and leave when Greg began to stammer, "Remove it? I…I'm not sure how…"

The look he got told him that his supervisor had not been kidding; and there was not doubt about his seriousness.

Greg approached the desk carefully, trying to find a possible flaw to de-arm the trap. When he thought he found one, he reached for a spring. Everything happened too fast to stop it.

With a loud crack it was put in motion, and the next second Grissom and Warrick were doused in a pink gooey substance. As planned, the trap had exploded with one touch, and it spewed Greg's special concoction all over the place. Greg himself had been able to duck once he heard the tell tale click, but the others had not been that lucky.

Grissom wiped the goo away from his eyes to glare at Greg.

"Uhm, you should go and wash that off or…"

"Or?" Grissom's voice was booming while Warrick was already hurrying away to do as Greg said.

"It's got some pink hair dye in it," Greg mumbled while hanging his head.

Grissom's eyes went wide, and he hastened to follow Warrick to the shower room.

xxxxx

Sara peeked in the room shortly after Grissom had left to find Greg on the floor, mopping up the pink mess he had created.

Carefully, she stepped closer, bending down to examine the substance. "Hair dye, food color and sugar water."

"What are the ingredients of misery that will put Greg Sanders out of work?" Greg tried to joke, but he did not feel it one bit. As much as they all wanted to believe that Grissom would not fire him for this, there was a very real possibility that he could.

"It will be okay, just…keep out of sight for a while," Sara tried to reassure him, vowing to herself that she would help Greg. Maybe she could keep Grissom busy to let him cool off first before Greg got into his hair again.

"What…?"

Sara spun around, startled by Brass' voice close behind her. "Don't ask," she warned him, knowing this story would be something for a bleak day after a rough shift – if Greg lived to tell about it.

"I'm afraid to anyway," he commented, stepping a bit further into the mess to have a look at Greg's desk trap. "Nice, but I guess it didn't have the effect you had in mind."

Greg only hung his head and kept mopping up the goo from the floor. Sara shot Brass a warning look that told him not to pour any more oil into the fire, and he just shrugged.

Suddenly something caught his eye on the other end of the mess, and he stepped around it, picking up a clear evidence bag. "That the evidence from the alley robbery?" he asked, and Sara nodded in affirmation.

He held it up higher, examining it closely and furrowing his brows. "They don't make them like that anymore," he said, looking over to Sara, waiting to see if she would catch his drift.

She did.

"Hey Greg, you're going to owe Brass and me big time."

The two smiled in understanding, but Greg was still showing nothing but confusion.

"This baby here is a real rarity. Collection item. High end," as Brass tried to jump-start the younger man's brain, Sara tried hard not to laugh at the picture the men presented.

Greg was on his knees, poised to scrub the desk, which was still covered in pink slime, clean. Brass stood in his suit, staring down at the lab tech, his face tight, willing Greg to understand, all the while trying to stay clear of the mess.

Finally, a flicker of recognition crossed Greg's eyes and the others sighed in relief. The brief hope that rose in Greg was quickly tampered again. "I have to clean this up," he sounded so dejected that Sara wanted to smack him.

It wouldn't be that bad; Grissom wouldn't fire him.

In fact, Grissom would be the last person to do anything so drastic. Plus, they were giving him a chance to prove himself, and he was acting like he had already been led off to the slaughterer.

"Get up, you fool," Brass was getting angry, and seeing Sara about to explode gave his voice even more strength.

He thrust the bag into Greg's hand and gave him a good yank to get him to his feet. "You're going to owe us not only big time, but for the rest of your life. Now go!"

Sara sighed when Greg finally caught on and stumbled out of the room. "Do you really want him to follow us his whole life to pay his debt?"

Brass shook his head in amusement, grunting as a form of negative response.

"You don't think I will help you with this, do you?" He took a big step around the remaining puddle.

"Oh no, that thought never crossed my mind. But there is someone else who will help me. Right, Jacqui?"

The other woman stepped hesitantly into the room, looking guiltily to the floor.

xxxxx

Click!

Grissom looked up from his work when he heard his office door shut and was surprised to find Sara leaning against it.

This time she didn't laugh, not until she stepped closer to the desk.

Grissom was trying to hide it with his hand and the glasses that dangled from it, but even in the dim light, Sara could see the result of the 'dye incident'.

"Grissom…" her tone was low and questioning, not daring to formulate the whole sentence.

"Don't…" he growled, the warning evident.

He hung his head, trying further to hide the obvious from Sara.

"Oh Grissom, it's not that bad. It'll be okay." She kept her tone soft. The last thing she needed was to agitate him further.

He huffed, shaking his head. When he finally looked up again, his eyes told her how tired he was. It was more than just today, more than just Greg. Maybe it was time for him to follow his own advice – he needed a diversion.

"Could you do me a favor?"

At her curt nod, he continued, "Go and ask Warrick if he still has that razor in his locker."

Sara's eyes went wide as she realized what his intention was. "I don't have one here."

"No!" It came out more forceful than she wanted.

His head whipped up, his eyes staring straight at her.

"Please," she stepped around the desk to face him without the obstacle between them. She took a good look at his face, his beard, and then lifted one hand up to touch him.

Grissom was confused about what she was doing, but he let her be for now.

"We could get another pack of hair dye." Her fingers were now running though his (in his eyes) ruined beard. Once she started, she couldn't get enough so her fingers kept at their work.

"Shaving is easier. This is just too humiliating."

Sara couldn't take her eyes away from the hairs on the lower half of his face, especially now that they might be gone soon.

"Please, don't shave it," she was begging now, and she didn't care.

Yes, old Grissom without the beard was fascinating enough, but she really loved him this way. Her anger at Greg flared again. She'd take everything back if he had ruined this. To distract herself from her malicious thoughts, she moved her eyes up, meeting his.

His eyes immediately searched the depth of hers for an answer. He must have found something satisfying because he nodded, giving in to her plea.

"Hair dye it is. But if I look even worse, there won't be another try."

Sara couldn't help the smile of relief and happiness that formed on her lips which Grissom answered with one of his own.

Right now, she felt like she really could become his distraction, show him that it was worth it, share everything with him. He was letting her decide the fate of his face.

Their moment of intimacy was disturbed by the sound of a beeper.

Sara pulled hers off of her belt. She read the message and smiled. "You know, Greg just solved the robbery."

He didn't say anything, just awaited a further explanation.

"The 'gun' traced back to a collector which in turn matches the prints we found. Turns out the guy owed him money, and the suspect's girlfriend wears the same shade of lipstick that we found on the banana. DNA tests will be conducted. Greg made the connection with the gun."

The pride she felt for the young man was audible, and even Grissom had to acknowledge Greg's effectiveness in this case. "I'll see what I can do," was his only comment.

The truth was, he had had no intention of firing Greg or tainting his bright future by adding today to his file, but he hadn't yet come up with a plan.

"So…" Sara asked, her fingers tracing his chin line. She couldn't stop.

"So…" he answered.

She grinned back, saying nothing, waiting for him to make a move.

"My bathroom." With that he closed the file in front of him that he had been pretending to read when Sara had come in.

"Let's get you a new old hair style."

The end