Disclaimer: Refer to autre chapters.
Rating: PG (Yes, I am capable of writing it)
A/N: I wrote the majority of this at about midnight on a Thursday. It was eating away at me after I read the review from Rynn. I hope y'all enjoy this. I know I enjoyed writing through the haze of sleep.
Chapter Eleven: What Are Pink, Fuzzy and Belong In a Low Budget Porno?
They were pink, fuzzy and resting on the surface of the table before her. Sara looked up and met the smug grin on Greg's face that threatened to burst into a full-blown conceited ego trip of knowing laughter.
"What the hell are those?" Sara demanded rather snappishly. It was too late for her to bite her tongue.
"And here I thought you were familiar with handcuffs, Sara?"
The grin got wider, she noticed, if it was at all possible.
"Gregory, I have no idea what you are talking about."
There was a moment's pause until Greg sat down across from her at the break room table, linking his fingers together and resting them before him on the table. He watched her with mild amusement and a satisfied grin that he could not conceal since he heard the little tidbit of gossip early this shift.
"Okay, fine, Sar. I can play that game too."
"Greg, really. What's going on here?"
In that moment he wondered if his source was true. He had been questioning it all shift and even now but when he saw the faint red abrasions on Nick's right wrist and the two sets of five scratch marks down his back, Greg knew that everything was factual. He even had sufficient evidence.
"So I start my shift off the same way I do every day. I walk into the building, head straight for the break room to put my stuff away. But today, Hodges comes bursting towards me, practically teeming with excitement."
"Wow, I never knew you were so capable of being descriptive."
He ignored the slightly snide remark and continued where he left off. "Anywho, Hodges rushes over and tells me that I will never believe what he heard Warrick and Nick talking about mere minutes ago in the locker room."
A perfect pause and Greg's eyes glittered.
"Yes?"
"Of course, I didn't believe Hodges myself. Hell, I question his results every time. So I casually made my way to the locker room, hoping that my boy Nicky would still be there."
"What did Hodges say to you?"
She was going to slit his throat.
"I'm getting to that. So I walk in, say my good evening to Warrick just as he is leaving and I cannot help but notice that Nick had been attacked."
"What!" Sara demanded incredulously, gripping the armrests of her chair and leaning forward, eyes wide.
"Come down, princess."
"Don't call me that."
"Call you what?" he said nonchalantly, brushing off her glower. "Yes, Nick was attacked… by a woman. Unless he's been in the position where an eagle marred is back with its talons. How are your talons by the way, princess? Will I find any epithelial under them?"
"Greg," she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
"Hush. I'm not done yet. I ignore the scratches and then seek the crucial evidence that I am in dire need of finding."
Very descriptive, she noted.
"What were you looking for?"
"Do you remember that case we did a few months back, had to do with sadomasochism?"
"Yeah, of course. The scars on their body I'll never forget."
"Exactly. Although I was still a lab tech at the time and am now, I had to go to crime scene since we were short staff. Handcuffs leave a very distinctive abrasion on wrists. It must be when the person is desperately trying to break free and the steel bites into their flesh."
Sara had the odd feeling that he was trying to intimidate her.
"Must be."
"I identified the lacerations on the vic's wrists as markings from handcuffs. Our boy Nick had very similar lacerations."
"He probably just has suicidal tendencies," Sara replied coolly.
"Yes, he should seek some help."
"What are you saying, Greg?"
"Come on, you're not a CSI 3 for nothing… unless you slept with Grissom."
She visibly winced and Greg was intrigued immediately.
"You didn't."
"You're right, I didn't."
"You did, didn't you?"
"If you know me at all, Greg, you would know that I have morals."
"Yeah, I also know that you had a thing for entomologists. One in particular."
"Now I just like them boys with them southern drawls," she said petulantly, mimicking a southern accent to a tee.
"Exactly. And you love to push the boundaries and testing their southern ways with handcuffs, don't you Miss Sara Sidle?"
"What's it to you, Greggo?"
"My dad's from Georgia."
It took her a moment. "I'm not sleeping with you… or your dad."
"In due time. You'll see."
"See what?"
"Just how much better off you'll be with me."
"Until I come to my senses, Greg, I'm going to have to stick with Nick."
"I'll only wait for so long."
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes catching a rather flamboyant color on the table. She shuddered faintly at the fuzziness and the pink hue. It ruined everything. How could you take someone seriously when they were handcuffing you with something that was pink and furry? Something that belonged in a little girl's room minus the steel?
"Mind telling my what the hell those are?" she nodded to the glinting, fuzzy bracelets about a foot away from her.
"They're handcuffs, Sara, pink and fuzzy."
"I know what they are, Greg."
"Then why did you ask?"
He was enjoying this far too much, she noted, glaring straight at him. She wondered where this newfound bravado had come from. Usually, with one look, Sara could have him cowering away, tall in between his legs. Tonight, however, Greg was anything but compliant. He wasn't about to go anywhere until he got his answers, she knew.
"What do you want Gregory?" Her voice sounded so tired, so irritated.
"I don't want anything. I just came here to give you a present," he replied cheerfully. The smile on his face made her want to smack it off.
"Those are not for me."
"You're right. They're for Nick."
Her fine manicured eyebrow was raised in question, a hint of a smirk on her painted lips. "I didn't know you had a thing for Nicky."
"I don't." His face blanched faintly.
"Sure you don't." The smirk had turned into a grin and she was suddenly glad that the tables were turned. "It just eats away at you knowing that I'm with him and you're not."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Fine, Greg, I can play that game too."
The words were thrown back at him and he cursed inwardly. This was not how it was supposed to be, Greg thought. He was supposed to be the one making the one Miss Sara Sidle squirm under the knowledge that he had. He wasn't supposed to be the one squirming.
"I promise I won't tell anyone, Greggo."
"I got to go," his voice sounded so small to his ears and he looked everywhere but Sara's amused eyes.
"Oh, Greg," she started when he was halfway out the door. "You forgot something."
He turned around and caught what she threw at him out of reflex. He looked down at the fuzzy handcuffs and glowered before glancing up to meet her sparkling eyes.
"Save them for your boyfriend. It will be a nice touch, especially with the latex."
