A Renaissance Affair

By Chicklit

Chapter 2

Still buzzing from my non-date with Mike, I breeze into Grissom's office a half hour before shift. I find him seated at his desk filling out paperwork. The pile isn't too large which means he's probably been tackling it for some time.

"Hey." I take up residence in the chair across from his desk. "Making progress?"

A muffled grunt is his only response as he scrawls his signature across the bottom of a page and flips the sheet into a large manila folder. I squelch a laugh as I observe his utter and complete lack of enthusiasm for the administrative aspects of his job.

"How was your dinner with Sofia?"

"Professional," he grumbles, peering at me intently from beneath his glasses. "How was your alumni event?"

"A blast, actually. Who knew?" I feel myself smiling broadly at the memory of the evening. "I met the professor who was giving the lecture. Mike Kendall. In addition to curating the exhibit at the Guggenheim, turns out he's teaching a class at UNLV on High Renaissance art. I'm going to audit the evening section for fun."

My announcement seems to have rendered Grissom speechless. He sits back in his chair and simply stares at me.

I stare right back.

"I didn't know that you were interested in art," he finally offers.

"Well, I attended the lecture, didn't I?"

"Of course. I just meant… When we talked yesterday you didn't sound very excited about going." He fiddles restlessly with the pen in his hand. "I didn't realize you were interested in the actual material. I thought you just wanted to do something away from the Lab."

"I did. I do. But I actually like art. I loved the class I took in college… It was such a complete escape from the science department. As I wandered around the exhibit tonight I realized that I actually missed being around it."

Grissom is staring at me with the same expression Mike did when I mentioned that Pluto and Persephone is my favorite Bernini statue. As if I've revealed an interesting facet of my personality that gives him new insight into my character.

"Is this a problem?" I can't imagine for the life of me why it would be, but with Grissom one never knows.

"On the contrary. I'm quite pleased."

"Pleased?" I echo. Will I ever understand this man?

"Yes." Grissom folds his hands in front of him and gives me his full, undivided attention. "It's something else we have in common."

I chew my lower lip and regard my boss quietly. He's giving me the look. The one that makes my palms sweat and my breath hitch. The one that promises some day he'll know what to do about this. The focused energy behind his cerulean gaze is heady stuff. Unbidden, a tiny bubble of hope wells up inside me. Is today finally the day?

"Hubba hubba!"

Perhaps not. I swivel to find Greg standing next to me, unabashedly admiring the expanse of leg peeking out from beneath the hem of my skirt.

"I realize that HR would kick my butt for saying this, but I really don't care. You are a fine specimen of a woman."

"Ah, thanks, Greg. I think." I'm always flattered by the attention, but it's extremely awkward when he makes these observations in front of Grissom. And he's been doing it with some regularity lately. The last thing I need is for Grissom to think that Greg and I are dating. Or even thinking about dating. I sneak a peek at Grissom and find him staring at Greg with his "kids today – what can you do?" expression.

Greg seems oblivious to Grissom's reaction and continues his mild flirtation. "Are you sure our boy-girl Lego doesn't click?"

I laugh. How can I not? "Yeah, I'm sure."

He doesn't think I get the William Gibson reference, but I do, so we begin dissecting the finer points of his latest novel. I have to give Greg kudos for his taste in literature. I thought he only read magazines like Details and Blender.

"Greg!" Grissom barks like an angry parent. I wonder if he's upset at the flirting, or the fact that we're having a discussion about an author he's probably never heard of. "This is a place of work."

Greg glances at his watch and offers a cheeky grin. "Not for another twenty minutes. Shift hasn't started yet."

Oh, Lordy. Grissom is turning red and a tic is forming in his right eye. Time to intervene. I calmly stand up and grasp Greg's arm. "I'm going to the locker room to change…"

"Nooooo…." He looks pained.

"… and then I'll meet you in the break room for assignments." I give Grissom my trademark wink and make a hasty exit.

Greg makes to follow, but is stopped at the crisp sound of Grissom's voice.

"She's not a toy, Greg."

Shocked, I stop in the hallway and turn. Where did that come from?

Greg gives me a considering look, then turns his attention to Grissom. "No, she's not." It's like all of the sudden he's not Grissom's subordinate, or his unruly son… He's his equal.

Unprepared to deal with the subtext of their conversation, I quickly head for the locker room. I'm not sure what's more strange. The fact that Grissom chastised Greg for flirting with me or the fact that Greg stood up to him.

When I return to the break room several minutes later I'm accosted by the rich smell of Greg's latest luxury coffee blend. I don't know the coffee's origin. I certainly don't know what type of bean it is. And I don't want to know if it was excreted by a rodent in Southeast Asia. It's smells fabulous and that's enough for me.

Greg is standing by the coffee machine, filling his thermos directly from the drip.

"Peace offering for Grissom?" I ask, handing him an empty mug.

He takes the mug and rolls his eyes. "Am I that obvious?" He's looking kind of like a bedraggled puppy, with his spiky hair and sheepish expression.

"Yes, but that's why we love you." I put a sisterly hand on his shoulder and give him a good pat. "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

"Not really." He switches my mug with his thermos and then reaches up to pull another mug from a nearby cabinet. We stand in silence watching the coffee trickle down. Greg keeps shifting his weight from foot to foot while he guzzles coffee from his thermos. Clearly, he's agitated about something.

"It's just…." He turns to me and tries to force words out of his mouth. "I want…" Then he just stares at me, like he's imploring me to do something. And it hits me like a Teflon-coated bullet. This flirtation isn't mild and to him it's not a joke. His eyes are filled with frustration and longing.

Oh, my God. Omigod. Is this how I look to Grissom? I stare at Greg and I see myself, and suddenly the room is too small, too claustrophobic, for both of us. Every conversation with Grissom, every innuendo, is immediately reevaluated and the results are not in my favor. I picture myself murmuring, 'Greg, I don't know what to do about this,' and I am nauseated.

My world might be tilting on its axis but I won't do to Greg what Grissom has done to me. I won't leave him in the dark, wondering, and I sure as Hell won't string him along. He deserves better. I look around and make sure that there's no one around to hear what I'm about to say. Thankfully, the coast is clear. "Greg," My voice is soothing and filled with regret. "You know that I love you, right?"

He nods, but won't look me in the eye.

"But I'm not in love with you," I clarify. "I'm sorry if anything I've said or done has ever given you that impression."

"It hasn't. You'd never do that. I know where things stand, it's just that sometimes… Being smart, doing well in school, we're always told that if we work hard enough we can get what we want." He takes a healthy gulp of coffee. "Life doesn't work that way, though, does it?"

"No," I agree philosophically, "It doesn't."

Something in my voice must sound like commiseration. Our eyes meet, and I know that he knows about Grissom. He's probably always known. He gives me a wry grin. I shrug. Yeah, sometimes, life just sucks.

We stand together, leaning against the counter, lost in thought.

I wish I could care about Greg that way. Life would be a lot simpler. Intellectually, I know that he would be good for me. But physical attraction is a chemical, intangible, irrational thing and it doesn't care about what is good or right. My parents are proof of that.

Once again I'm assaulted with thoughts of Grissom and how I must appear to him. I feel nervous, unsure and unsettled. What if I've imagined it all? When he sent that damn plant, was he just trying to keep his team intact? When he talked of beauty, was it an empirical observation? When he interrogated Lurie, was he talking hypothetically to force a confession? Worse, was he talking about someone else? I look back and realize that Grissom has only ever offered me his friendship. He's given it freely and he's been very supportive in his own introverted way. I'm the one who has pushed for more and put him in an awkward position. Earlier tonight, sitting in his office, I'd been so sure we were on the brink of something before Greg waltzed in. So sure. Was I wrong?

I laugh inwardly. If Grissom had given me the speech I just gave Greg I'd have gone nuclear, railed at him for sending false signals and stormed off in a fiery ball of anger. It would have been a spectacular show. Career limiting, but spectacular. I find myself humbled by Greg's graciousness. He's a better person than I am.

I look over and find him staring ahead with that wry expression tattooed to his face.

"Are we okay?" I finally ask. I hope so, because I can't imagine a world without Greg's friendship and support.

"Yeah, copasetic." he gives me a grin and taps my mug with his thermos. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

"So, now that we've got that settled, want to come over to my place later and play Legos?"

We laugh so hard there are tears streaming down our faces. This is how Grissom finds us, minutes later, when he arrives with assignment slips in hand. His eyes dart to mine, looking for answers, and I give him an apologetic smile. "Sorry." Actually, I'm not sorry at all. I laugh harder.

"Did I miss something?" His eyes dart back and forth between Greg and me.

"Location joke," Greg replies. "Had to be there."

Grissom nods. I expect him to be annoyed again but he just stands there eyeing us speculatively. I scour his features for the slightest suggestion of jealousy, something to prove that I haven't imagined the subtext lurking beneath our decade-long flirtation, but his face is an impenetrable mask.

Greg takes the opportunity to present a cup of his special blend, prepared exactly the way Grissom likes it. "Coffee, your Excellency?"

Grissom takes the proffered mug and gives it a quick sniff. His eyes light up with pleasure. "Thank you , Greg."

This is as close as Grissom usually gets to giving an apology and Greg basks in the implied approval.

I'm pleased to see that Grissom has decided to partner with Greg tonight, which suggests he feels poorly about his earlier behavior and is trying to make amends. Or, Greg's caffeinated bribe was successful. Regardless, they take off to investigate something suspicious at Mandalay Bay while I stay behind to process evidence for an ongoing investigation. Sofia and I spend the better part of the evening taking apart a Ford Expedition.

Man, those cars are large.