Disclaimer: I disclaim everything. They are not mine.

Spoilers: None.

Pairing: GCR and WS

Summary: The four younger CSIs formulate a cunning plan whilst intoxicated (on vodka jelly) one Christmas Eve.

Hey sorry about that, I was gonna update sooner but wasn't working for me. Thanks for all the reviews though – they were really great: Megara1, tria246815 (I figured cos they're drunk and it's Christmas and GCR is just great!), Celsie, Jenn Sidle, Gonna Marry A CSI (I don't have any pineapple...), firestorm13, KHarkins, cherishedcrush and janisha. It seems popular opinion is that Grissom's ass is, indeed, spectacular. Anyway, yes – feedback would be brilliant again, but now I'm really gonna just get on with it. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx

- o -

To All, A Good Night. Chapter Five. Up On The Housetop

- o -

Twas the night before Christmas and, stealing up the path towards the front door of Catherine Willows' house were four Santa-suited CSIs. Had anybody down her block looked out of the window at the time, they may have seen the strange group creeping theatrically over the paving stones or perhaps even CSI Greg Sanders tripping, once again, most superbly on Catherine's porch steps.

"Ow, crap." Greg cursed under his breath, stumbling along and stamping accidentally on Sara's foot.

"Pull it together, Greg," she hissed, giving him a shove. "This is not acceptable Santa behaviour."

"Well technically, Sara, Santa wouldn't be going through the front door either," Greg grumbled. Nick gazed up at the roof contemplatively.

"Reckon I could get up the drainpipe?" he wondered. "And down the chimney?"

"No. But I would very much like to see you try." Sara replied before stepping aside for Warrick.

"Coming through," he knelt ceremoniously by the door, key in hand, and fumbled for the lock.

"Ouch – shit," Nick cursed losing his footing on the drainpipe and falling back onto the concrete as Warrick let the door swing open.

"Shh!" Warrick warned the team, exaggeratedly holding a finger to his lips as they crept inside.

"Where shall we leave the note?" Sara whispered in the darkness.

"I can't see anything," Nick complained, walking into a table.

"Shh – be quiet!" cautioned Warrick again and for a while, the four of them slunk about in the dark silence, trying to find their way in the pitch blackness.

"Warrick," spoke Greg finally, breaking the darkness in a hesitant voice. "Why is your hand on my ass?"

"Oh god!" Warrick jumped back in the gloom and shaking imaginary things from his hand in disgust. "Crap, I thought you were Sara."

"Hey!" she punched his shoulder, annoyed.

"What did I do?" Nick protested as he felt the punch.

"Oh sorry, Nick – thought you were Warrick." she apologized.

"This is too confusing." Greg felt around on the wall. "There must be a light switch somewhere."

"No! Don't turn it on!" Warrick yelled. "You'll wake them up!"

"And you don't think that your yelling now isn't gonna, Einstein?" Greg retorted in a fierce whisper.

"Both of you – cut it out!" Sara told them sternly but wasn't heard as Nick jumped suddenly.

"Seriously, Warrick – what the hell are you doing, man?"

"Crap – well where the hell is Sara?" he asked.

"I'm right here," she snapped, shoving the person in front of her who, again, turned out to be Nick. Nick stumbled and knocked into Greg as the pair of them fell to the floor, bringing a nearby lamp down with them with a crash.

The light flicked on.

"I told you not to turn on the light!" Warrick shouted, blinking in the sudden brightness. Greg and Nick leapt quickly to their feet.

"I didn't!" Greg protested. The familiar song of someone clearing their throat pointedly broke the confusion.

"Oh crap." Sara muttered and they turned to see Gil Grissom standing at the foot of the stairs in a T-shirt and boxers with a baseball bat in hand, waiting for an explanation.

"Just what, exactly, is going on here?" he enquired looking to each of them in turn and taking in their appearances. He didn't even need to recognise which ones were which behind the Santa hats and white fluffy beards; he could pick out Nick, struggling to look calm, Sara, biting nervously on the end of her beard, Warrick, guiltily rubbing the back of his neck though still slyly trying to slip his arm around Sara's waist and Greg, who was standing closest to him, stammering a reply and looking at his feet.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?" Grissom leant closer to the embarrassed Greg.

"We're on a Christmas Mission." Greg told his sneakers.

"And that means...?" Grissom prompted. Behind Greg, the three other CSIs whispered and nudged each other until Nick, having been repeatedly elbowed by Sara, spoke up nervously.

"We wanted you and Catherine to get together. We figured we'd...uh...leave you notes...or something," Nick's voice grew fainter under Grissom's sceptically raised eyebrow. He pointed an accusing finger: "It was Greg's idea!"

Grissom turned back on Greg who paled again.

"I – we – we thought that...well it is Christmas and all and...we thought we'd...y'know, give you a nudge." Greg attempted to explain. Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a good idea.

"A nudge?" Grissom repeated.

"We wrote notes." Sara offered but quietened down after seeing the less-than-pleased look on Grissom's face and resumed chewing on the beard. She turned to Warrick's ear. "I think we're in trouble." she whispered.

"No, no, it's cool," Nick assured her quietly. "Just be cool." He cleared his throat and stepped forwards boldly.

"I like your bat, Griss – is it maple or aluminium...?" What began as a confident voice trailed off as he heard his own words. As he took a step back again to huddle beside Warrick and Sara again, he felt Sara's elbow in his ribs again but didn't dare make another sound.

"Well, everybody – I have to say that I, for one, am –" Grissom began his lecture but was suddenly cut off by Greg who had been gazing around the room in suspicion.

"Wait a second!" Greg blurted, a look of excitement on his face. "This is Catherine's house!" The other three looked around as realisation dawned on their faces. Of course it was, they were at Catherine's house – there was Lindsey's school photo up above the TV and there were Catherine's boots by the door, her coat hanging on a hook.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Mr Grissom?" Greg chanced the cheekiness at his boss and took great delight in seeing the roles reverse.

"Well, I – uh..." Grissom stuttered and found himself staring at his bare feet as Greg folded his arms, a gleeful grin spreading on his face.

- o -