Disclaimer: Don't own
Catherine had two choice. She could say a) that, yes, it was so bad because what she felt was way more than sexual tension or she could b) tell him that no, it wasn't so bad because she had gotten used to feeling that way. She choose option c which was to slouch down even further and put her feet on his dashboard.
Grissom looked over at her and involuntarily cringed. He hated people putting their feet on the dashboard. Then he realized that she had chosen not to talk with him.
He not talking to him bugged him more when they were at the lab, because she could just walk away and avoid him, but in a controlled space, he had ways to make her talk.
"Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful!
And since we've no place to go-"
"Gill, it's July. And were in Las Vegas." she rolled her eyes.
"Well, doesn't matter anyway! Were here." he pulled the car into a dusty parking lot, the bar, was actually a pub, he informed her, called 'Point E'.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she attempted to remain stubborn, however, curiosity was getting the better of her.
"It's from Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy!" she gave him a blank look and he resisted the urge to recite the entire section of the book.
She glared at him.
But then again, that was nothing new. In fact, her so-called death glare no longer worked on him. It seemed more like the small, but feisty, kitten glare. He turned back to her only to find she was giving him something that went way beyond the small, but feisty kitten glare. He suspected that it would kill the younger CSI's instantly. Grissom made a mental note to warn them.
TBC…