A LITTLE SOMETHING AROUND THE MIDDLE

Part two

The rest of the story will be told from Greg's POV.

I signed my report with a flourish, and added it to the other papers in the file. It was the first report I'd written without Sara's help, and I'd stayed after my shift ended to work on it. It had taken me two hours -or an hour and a half, if you discounted the time I'd spent spell checking every damn word I wrote. Now, two drafts later, I was ready to submit it to my boss' approval.

I picked up my jacket and my cell phone; I was hungry and tired, and all I wanted was to go home, take a long shower, and order something to eat - either a late breakfast or an early lunch. I was debating the pros and cons of several take out places, when I entered Grissom's office.

I belatedly knocked on the open door, but I needn't have worried; he was not there.

For a moment, I stood in the middle of the office, wondering if I wasglad or disappointed.

A week ago I would have been disappointed, no doubt about it. But that was then.

That was before I'd made a fool of myself by telling him about my feelings.

Not that I had actually said the words –it was too risky, and I wanted to save face in case Grissom didn't feel the way I did- but I think he understood what I was trying to say. As a matter of fact, his reaction was kind of encouraging, even if he didn't say the words either.

So, what happened after that?

Nothing, that's what. Nothing at all. In fact, Grissom acted as if no conversation had ever taken place.

I was hurt, at first. Hurt and pissed. Actually, I was more pissed off than hurt…

…Until I realized that Grissom's silence worked in my favor.

I mean, let's face it; if I had told Eckley the things that I'd told Grissom, the bald man would have reprimanded me for making a pass at him, and he would have made a big deal of it too, maybe even using me to set an example in his next 'Sexual Harassment at the Workplace' talk.

Not that I would ever make a pass at Eckley!

So, I guess I should be grateful that Grissom had reacted the way he did. He was a discreet guy; he was not going to repeat the stupid things I said about wanting someone like him, and he would not mention that I had a boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, I mean) and this alone was enough to make me want to fall on my knees in gratitude.

But of course, falling down on my knees for him was exactly what I'd planned to do all along. If he had said yes, I mean..

Damn.

Still, I wasn't complaining; I mean, I things could have turned out worse, right? So what if there was no way in hell we were ever gonna be together? It was ok.

I put my report on Grissom's desk and turned to leave… and stopped.

I smiled to myself. I looked back at the desk and fantasized that Grissom was there, waiting for my report.

'Fantasy Grissom'had skipped breakfast, a couple of autopsies, and even a court appearance just to be there for me. In my fantasy, he asked me to sit and talk to him –and he wasactually paying attention to every word I said. He picked upmy report and read it and sign it without making a single correction. And then…

And then he fell on his knees to show me his appreciation-

"There you are."

I turned quickly –and guiltily. Grissom was standing by the doorway.

"Hey, boss." I muttered.

"I've been looking for you." he said, "The receptionist told me you hadn't left the building." He glared, "Did you turn off your pager?"

Hell, yeah. I was officially off duty and he knew it very well. Not that I was going to say so.

"I was finishing my report," I said instead, "I put it on your desk."

I looked expectantly at him, hoping his reaction would be just what I wanted it to be: He would sit and read my report and sign it; and then-

"Good." He said, barely sparing a glance at his desk, "I'll look at it later. Are you busy right now?"

I looked at him. Grissom looked perky and full of energy, as if he had not worked the same hours that I had. He looked like he was itching to work another shift.

Oh, no.

I was not staying for another shift, no matter what he said-

"Actually," I mumbled, "I was about to go home, and-"

"Could you spare me a couple of hours?" Grissom interrupted, "I'm doing some research at the body farm and I could use some help."

A week ago I would have jumped at the chance to help him, but now I wasn't sure I-

Ah, who was I kidding? I didn't jump, but I said yes anyway.

He didn't exactly fall on his knees in gratitude.

"Great." he said simply, "I'll meet you at the parking lot in ten minutes. Oh, and bring coveralls."

"Great." I muttered to myself as I went to the locker room. "I'm going to the Body Farm. Yipee."

It was not great. Being alone with my boss had been a source of mortification lately, and I cringed every time he asked me to go on a case with him.

That was something I didn't understand; Grissom's attitude, I mean. Anybody else would have avoided me after that conversation, but not him. It seemed that lately he was around more often –either at the lab, or at the break room, or out in the field.

I thought at first that he was getting ready to make his move, but after a week, I realized it was not going to happen.

Still… I had to admit it was nice to spend time with him.

For instance, last Monday…

(Flashback)

Grissom entered the break room just as I was having a midnight snack –pizza.

He greeted me with a casual, 'Hey, Greg,' and opened the fridge.

I froze. For a moment it felt like we were reenacting the night I made a pass at him.

Grissom didn't seem uncomfortable at all. He simply sat at the table and busied himself with the makings of a sandwich. He had some slices of brown bread and a jar filled with a paste of some kind.

"No chopped fruit tonight?" I asked. It was the closest I got to allude to our conversation, but he didn't make any comment.

Fine.

I picked up a slice of pizza but it was too hot, so I dropped it back on the plate. I was licking sauce off my fingers, when I glanced at him. He was staring at me.

Caught staring, his reaction was to speak gruffly.

"Do you know what they put in those things?" he asked, eyeing the pizza.

"Do you know what they put in the chemicals we work with every day?" I replied evenly.

"Actually, I do." he replied (a bit smugly, it seemed to me).

"Well," I said mischievously, "I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days they discover that those chemicals cause baldness, or impotence, or-"

"Are you going bald or impotent, Greg?"

I flushed, but recovered quickly.

"I haven't worked with those chemicals that long." I said deliberately. "You, on the other hand-" I paused.

And he just fell for it.

"I'm not going ba-" Grissom started indignantly, and then he stopped. He narrowed his eyes at me, but after a moment he smiled faintly. We bantered like that all the time and we always ended up sharing a smile of complicity. It was nice to see that hadn't changed.

Still smiling, he turned his attention back to his sandwich.

"What's that?" I asked, eyeing the stuff in the jar.

"Peanut butter."

"I can see the peanut butter, but what's the dark stuff mixed in it?"

"Oh. Nothing." Grissom shrugged. "Bits and ends."

I looked closely at the jar, and tilted it a little.

"Well, it looks like a cockroach died in there." I said it casually, but when I looked up I noticed the twinkle in Grissom's eyes. I was appalled, "Oh, no." I said, putting the jar back. "You're not, are you?"

"Am I what?" He asked innocently.

"You're eating cockroaches?" I asked, stunned.

"No, I'm not." He denied, and then he smiled, "Crickets." He said, "And some red ants."

"And is there any difference?"

"Well, cockroaches have more protein." He said matter-of-factly.

I stared at him for a moment.

"'His meat was locusts and honey,'" I said solemnly.

"St. Matthew," he said, looking appraisingly at me. "You're quoting the Bible."

"Well, I'm a Catholic, too." I shrugged, trying not to sound smug and failing. He smiled and took a big bite out of his sandwich. I groaned. "That's disgusting, Grissom."

"Is it?" Grissom asked, with his mouth full. "It's crunchy." He commented, enjoying my discomfort. But only for a moment, "You're right." He said gently. "It is disgusting if you're not into it." He reached for a napkin and started wrapping his sandwich in it.

I frowned.

"You're not finishing that?"

"I'll save it for later."

"Oh, come on." I protested, "You're not doing this because of me, are you? Stay." I said magnanimously. "If you do," I added, "I might give it a try."

He smiled faintly.

"You don't have to do that."

"Why not?" I asked, picking the knife he'd used to spread the peanut butter mixture, "I mean, I've eaten burritos and hot dogs all my life and I know what's in them," he said, "Eating a couple of bugs can't be much worse."

He looked at me as if trying to gauge my sincerity, and then he handed me the jar. "Besides," I said as I spread some of the mixture on a slice of pizza, "I'm pretty sure I've already eaten plenty of cockroaches during my college years. I used to have a roommate who kept a stash of sandwiches under the bed, and sometimes we ate them at midnight, in the dark-" I was talking my ass off out of nervousness, but I finally forced himself to eat the pizza. "Mmmh. Well." I mumbled. The brown bits had the texture of plastic and tasted of burnt walnuts.

"I fry them in a little butter," he said.

"Uh, huh."

"So," he paused, "What do you think?"

I looked into his eyes.

"It's not so bad." I said slowly, "In fact," I paused, "If Pizza Hut added it as a topping, I'd buy it."

It was the highest compliment I could think of and he knew it. He smiled faintly.

We finished our meals in silence and went back to work.

(Ends flashback)

TBC

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