Title: Party For Two, Halloween Style

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters of CSI are used without permission. I don't make any money from them and I don't own the copyright…..and I guarantee CBS that they'll be returned with nothing short of a cavity or two.
A/N: Just a fun little ficcy for the candy lover's dream holiday and Sandle lovers.

The term "office party" had a whole new meaning when it came to Las Vegas, Greg amusedly mused as he moved through the costumed people dancing in the hallways.

He didn't know how they managed to pull it off, but Cath and Nick had somehow conned Ecklie into letting the team throw an impromptu Halloween bash in the crime lab. Complete with the ghosts, ghouls, and goblins.

Literally.

Carefully sidestepping towards the wall, he narrowly missed one fuming Ecklie drabbed in a plain white cotton bed sheet. And if Greg wasn't mistaken, the toilet-paper clad figure tailing him like a lost puppy dog was none other than Hodges.

Sneaking through the all the black cats to follow somewhat meekly behind was - god forbid - one Grissom wearing a spider costume. With all eight fuzzy legs.

One guess to who put up all the fake spider webs in every nook and cranny of the place.

"Greg! Just in time!" An exotically-dressed red-head beamed at him as she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the breakroom.

He stumbled, nearly crashing into Nick who was dressed as a cowboy (no surprise at all, really). "For what?"

"The donut game, of course!" Handing him a small powdered donut on a string, the normally motherly CSI shoved him towards someone wearing a costume in elaborate black velvet. "We were short a person, so you're Sara's partner now!" She gave him a look, one that brooked no argument. Heading off to find Warrick, she left Greg to his brunette friend.

Judging by the slightly irritated look on her face, he assumed that she got dragged into this too. Her completely serious face told him she was also extremely sober-something he couldn't say for almost everyone else at this party. There was an uncomfortable look in her eyes too, and he didn't know why but…wow.

It could be that dress.

Yes, definitely that dress.

She was normally a dark person, he knew, but that costume accentuated that darkness and she was now a dark, sexy person. Like the real, honest-to-God queen of shadows.

Not that it wasn't that he had never seen in her in a dress before. Dimly recalling the CSI banquet, he realized what she wore then paled greatly in comparison to the sleek black number she had on now. Granted, it was probably a forty-dollar costume but damn, it was well worth it. If he wasn't mistaken, the heel of a fuck-me boot was peeking out from the slit in the side of the fabric. Mentally shaking his head to stop moving from the boot up her thigh, he admired her outfit. The full skirt with red leather trimming, the tight bodice, and….and the low cut that was lower than he'd ever seen on her. Damn. That dark ruby pendant didn't help matters either, dipping dangerously low between her breasts. Which weren't being shown off, but if she bent down just a little…

Grabbing the nearest glass of alcoholic cider, Greg downed it in one go and clenched the glass tightly, ignoring the fact that he wasn't being discreet about looking.

Feeling a pair of eyes burning into her, she turned her eyes to meet those that seemed set on turning her into a pile of smoldering ashes. To her uneasy surprise, it was a darkly-clad Greg who was staring at her. And she wasn't quite sure, but she saw deep admiration and…was that lust?

Nervously, she shouldered her way through the crowd to greet him. It was hard too, noticing that other guys besides Greg were trying to get a good second look at her. At last she reached him, ignoring the open stares that she was receiving from envious rookies and some not-so-rookie.

She gave an inward smile as she saw that he was dressed as a vampire. Sharp white canines, flowing black cape…he really went all out with the small fake blood trickle dripping down from the corner of his lip. Velvet too. Like they were a couple who decided to match for the holiday. Shaking her head to clear the traitorous thoughts she saw that a few others were taking note of the same idea.

Pretending not to notice that she was blushing a light pink and that he was practically salivating into his glass, Sara gave him a friendly hug. "Hey, Greggo," she offered, wincing as her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears.

It took him a second to realize that she was there. "You look beautiful." He said shortly but in genuine awe.

A deeper pink settled onto her cheeks. "Thanks." Waving a hand towards the growing group in the center, she added, "Shall we?"

Confusion flashed across his face, until he glanced down at the donut in his hand. "Oh. Right." He flushed red and led her to where the game was beginning.

Seeing that the ladies in each pair (excluding Nick, who had Warrick for a partner) were laying down on an oversized sheet, Greg motioned for Sara to do the same. Trying not to look at her chest as she fidgeted on the hard floor, he waited for Archie's countdown to begin.

"Three….two…one…go!" Their colleagues began to cheer on their friends, laughing when somebody missed and got powdered sugar all over the other's face.

"Little to the left….no, no, your other left," he heard Sara smirk through her directions as he tried to get the donut into her mouth while blindfolded.

A small tug on the end of the string alerted Greg that the brunette had successfully gotten the donut and judging by the cheers behind him, they had won.

"Ta-da! The winners!" A now inebriated Cath held up their hands in a victory stance as Grissom presented them with what seemed to be - strangely enough - pumpkin flavored champagne and enough chocolate to sink a ship. Sara, now slightly red, accepted the prize basket and tried to brush off the powder that spotted her costume. Greg helped her, unconsciously letting his hand feel the taut skin of her stomach underneath the warm fabric of her dress.

Inhaling sharply, she stole a look at him as he settled a hand on the small of her back to lead her away from the throng of people.

"Are we the only ones not drunk?" He heard her ask as their eyes caught co-workers acting as if stupidity was the only thing in their personality.

Laughter poured freely from his lips. "Drunk is an understatement, Sar. We're going to be the only ones not passed out here tomorrow." Gesturing towards an unconscious cowboy sprawled on the cushioned lobby seats, he proved his point. Already a few level ones had started to stagger and bump into the walls of the lab, falling down every other step.

Shaking her head, she giggled with him as they went down the elevator to the staff parking lot. Noticing that her Tahoe wasn't parked in her spot, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Cath gave me, Nick, and Warrick a ride. Would you mind taking me?" She requested sheepishly, a little embarrassed that she didn't arrange for a ride back.

He shook his head, motioning for her to take the passenger side. "No prob. Hop in." Starting the car, the air was comfortable with silence.

"You do know I live on the other side of town?" Even though she was facing the passenger side window, he could tell she was worried about the extra little trip. A duffel bag appeared out of nowhere, and his eyes asked a silent question. She shrugged, settling the luggage on her lap. "I was actually supposed to sleep at Cath's house, so I brought my sleep stuff. Except now I think Warrick will be keeping her busy." The smirk on her face told him that it was going to be full of juicy details tomorrow.

Pulling up into the garage of his apartment building, he nodded for her to get out of the car. "You can stay at my house," he offered gently, trying hard not to think of what could happen and what probably wouldn't happen.

"I don't mean to intrude on you, Greg. I can call a cab from here." She pulled out her cell from a pocket in her bag, ready to dial the local taxi company on the drop of a hat.

His fingers encircled her wrist, pulling her with him. "No. It's a bit late. You can stay…I have a comfy couch." Twinkling eyes made her relent.

"Alright. But I owe you one," she said gratefully, walking alongside her usually messy-haired friend. He carried the basket, surprisingly light despite all the candy bars and the large bottle of alcohol.

An elevator ride and twenty steps later had them on his doorstep.

Ushering her into his apartment, he let the wooden door glide shut with a click.

With a groan, he lifted his head from the cool surface of the break room table as Grissom walked in with a cup of steaming coffee.

"Rough night, Greg?" The head CSI inquired as the former lab tech let out another moan and held his head gingerly in his hands.

"I can't even remember," he lamented mournfully, reaching for the bottle of aspirin sitting ever so conveniently at the end of the table. He did remember a very nice dream, involving some pumpkin-flavored alcohol and some invigorating exercise on his living room couch.

The older man lifted an eyebrow. "Didn't you go home early?" He hid a smirk at the younger CSI's obvious misery.

"Yeah, but I don't know what I did after I left the lab." Shaking his head violently to clear the cobwebs, he saw a glowing Sara enter.

"What're you so happy about?" The two men muttered as she bounced over to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

She received two pairs of glares as she loudly set her drink on the metal counter. "Nothing at all." Leaving the room as suddenly as she came, her shirt rode up a bit.

Biting back a gasp of recognition, Greg focused his eyes onto his Blue Hawaiian. Wasn't it a dream? The champagne, the chocolate smearing, the sex…

He nearly fell out of his chair in shock as Sara poked her head back in with an ear-to-ear grin plastered on her face. "Thank you for last night, Greg."

Apparently not.