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.

Thanks so much for the reviews – you're all just so great. Thank you very much to Gonna Marry A CSI (thanks for the tree too – I like pineapple, will it survive a British winter though?), sitarra, Celsie, Daisyangel (sorry to hear about the annoying person), Dizzy-Dreamer (the featured couples are GREAT! Are you a GSR?), Charmed-angel4, Jenny70529, firestorm13, Megara1, Jenn Sidle and Junius (x2)

Also thanks to everyone who reviewed the WS North-West, it is a stand-alone though, sorry – I can't handle another WIP on the go since I'm writing another one right now. Thanks to: Megara1, Kelly, Daisyangel, nick55 (superb author of The Coveted), Geeky Annie, MissyJane, wtchspll, Gonna Marry A CSI and Charmed-angel4.

On with the chapter though. I've officially finished writing this fic. It's eight chapters long so we're almost done here. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx

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To All, A Good Night. Chapter Six. Silent Night

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"What?" Greg leant closer, cupping his hand behind his ear exaggeratedly. As Greg took delight in watching his boss squirm and his three inebriated colleagues giggled amongst themselves, a voice came from upstairs.

"Gil, what's going – " Catherine stopped, surprised for only a moment to see the four costumed CSIs in her living room. She stood barefoot on the wood laminate flooring having dressed hastily in one of Grissom's shirts that stopped an inch or two above her knees, folded her arms and suppressed a smile. "Ho Ho Ho, and what are you all doing here?"

Greg froze and stepped back from taunting Grissom as Nick spoke up.

"I'm jolly Saint Nick!" he announced proudly, having just thought that one up. Catherine did not look amused and raised an eyebrow.

"I see. Now would that be the patron saint of looking like a fool or breaking into people's houses?" she retorted coolly. Nick's alcohol-dulled mind was no match for Catherine's sharp comments so, unable to think of anything better, he mumbled something indistinctly, squeaked, and hid behind Warrick.

"They're on a Christmas Mission, Catherine," Grissom told her wryly. Catherine looked at him.

"Oh really?" she turned back to the group who were now dreading what was to come. "And you drove over here, drunk and looking like that?"

"Oh no!" Greg assured her, with sudden eagerness. "I didn't drink. I'm the Designated Driver!"

"Lord help us all," was Catherine's quiet response.

"Yeah, Cath – Greg's like this all the time," Warrick added and Sara giggled into his arm softly.

"Of course, I should've known," Catherine muttered. "So, this Christmas Mission...?"

"We thought we'd prompt Grissom into asking you out, or something," Sara supplied.

"But, since you clearly don't need that...we'll just be going," Warrick continued, steering himself and Sara subtly towards the door with Nick and Greg creeping behind.

"Hold it right there," Grissom put out a hand and stopped the escaping Warrick. "What kind of host and, indeed, what kind of law-abiding citizen would I be if I were to let you back out on the streets again like this?"

"But I'm not even dru-" Greg began to protest.

"Oh especially you, Greg," Grissom cut him off and Greg hung his bearded head, the bell on his hat tinkling forlornly.

"Especially since it was partly our fault for not telling you that Gil and I moved in together two months ago," Catherine admitted before adding sharply: "But that's no excuse to break into my house."

"I had a key!" Warrick objected before falling silent as both Catherine and Grissom shot him a look.

"Now there's a spare room at the back with a double bed and –" Catherine began.

"I call it!" Warrick yelled immediately.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Nick whined.

"Yeah – you can't call it!" Sara punched his shoulder.

"Sara, it's a double bed." Warrick murmured pointedly.

"Oh..." she smiled in realisation and, turning to Nick, chirped: "Sorry Nicky. He called it."

"Well there are two couches out here," Grissom gestured to the couches. Nick looked at them, then at Greg and began to grumble.

"'Night Nick!" Sara grinned as she and Warrick slipped off towards the guest room.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all, a good night!" Warrick called theatrically and pulled off his beard in a flourish as he disappeared down the hall. Grissom and Catherine looked at each other, shrugged and headed up the staircase back to their own bedroom.

"Goodnight, kids," Catherine smiled, hand-in-hand with Grissom and closing the bedroom door behind them.

"Who'd have thought I'd be spending the night with you," Greg pondered in the empty room as he tested the couches for springiness. Nick scowled.

"You'd better not snore," he muttered darkly.

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"How do I look?" Grissom's voice came from behind her in the darkness of their bedroom. Catherine turned and laughed to see Grissom adjusting Warrick's Santa beard on his face.

"Oh very...mature," she smiled, playfully tugging on it.

"Should I keep this on? Grow my own, perhaps?" he suggested lightly. Her head tipped to one side, considering for a moment before leaning up to him and kissing him.

"No," she replied decidedly when she finally broke away. "Too tickly."

"Oh really?" Gil asked, raising an eyebrow mischievously.

"Oh no...no you wouldn't!" Catherine eyed him suspiciously, recognising the glint in his eyes. His lips twitched in a small smirk and Catherine, feeling suddenly about 10 years old, dived across the room with a squeal.

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Catherine's laughter drifted down the staircase and Nick, feet hanging over the end of the couch, sighed and pulled his blanket over his head.

"It's a rabbit!" Greg announced from the corner of the room.

"Huh?" Nick lifted his head up and gazed blearily over to where Greg's voice came from. He was sitting in the corner by the wall, making shadow puppets with a side-turned lamp.

"See?" He made the poorly formed bunny bound eerily across the wall. "You're not proud of me?"

"I'm sorry; I was speechless for a moment. I never realised you actually had hand-eye coordination." Nick muttered sarcastically. Greg raised his eyebrows.

"Ooh – for someone who's had nine vodka jelly shots and two beers, you're very grouchy," Greg told him, crawling across the floor to kneel above him.

From the back of the house, Warrick yelled something indistinct before being hurriedly shushed by Sara. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't it bother you that we're the only ones in this house not getting any tonight?" Nick asked him. Greg shrugged.

"Not so much – but if you like, we could always..." Greg began but stopped when Nick looked at him in bewilderment.

"Dude – you're straight!" Nick spluttered.

"Yeah but it's always nice to keep your options open," Greg answered matter-of-factly. Nick laughed, shook his head and buried it back into the couch cushions.

It took until 2am for everyone in the Grissom-Willows house to be asleep: Lindsey first, having slept through the invasion; then Nick, who Greg soon found was the one who snored; then Catherine and Gil as they always did, in each others arms; then Greg after hours of boredom and debating whether or not to dip Nick's hands in warm water (which his conscience decided against doing); and finally Warrick and Sara – for reasons that, in a K+ fic, cannot be detailed. And just before Warrick dropped off to sleep, with the sleeping Sara's soft breathing against his chest, he hoped, for her innocence's sake, that the eleven-year old Lindsey upstairs was a very heavy-sleeper.

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