Thanks For Giving

By: Emmithar

Rating: K+

Summary: Sara and Greg end up cooking for the team on Thanksgiving, but sometimes saying one thing is easier than accomplishing it.

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything…

A/N: An attempt at humor, not my best genre, which is why I say attempt. Inspiration struck watching the CBS movie 'Snow Wonder' last night. Hope it's enjoyable.

Thanks For Giving

It had never been this covered before…come to think of it hardly ever was covered in the least bit. Greg had actually forgotten what his countertop had looked like, not like he could start remembering now.

Wiping his hands dry on a free kitchen towel he tossed it to the side, glancing over the items one last time. "Okay…we have the carrots, the potatoes, rolls, salad," he paused for a moment, picking up several small containers to show them off. "Salad dressing, although I doubt we actually needed seven bottles of it."

Sara shrugged, flipping through the recipe book, her finger tracing the page. "Rather be safe than sorry, right?"

"Maybe," Greg replied flatly, "But what am I going to do with seven leftover bottles of salad dressing?"

"Become a vegetarian?" Sara suggested, laughing at his blatant expression.

"Anchovy Salad Dressing?" Greg wondered briefly if he was reading the label right. He caught Sara's eye, frowning as she smiled. "Who in the world would want Anchovy Salad Dressing?"

"Grissom," Sara quipped, shaking her head. "He asked for it before I left."

Greg put the bottles back down with a sigh as he continued to go over the items that scattered the counter. He wasn't quite to sure how they had gotten into this mess. Mostly he blamed it on Sara; it was her idea after all.

It had been a regular day at the lab, regular in the sense that despite it being a holiday season, people didn't change. Three homicides, and one apparent suicide; they were more than busy.

Despite the urgency however the lab was taking the following night off, to celebrate Thanksgiving. To Greg it meant an uneventful night, dodging the impending calls from the rest of his family, ignoring the invites. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with them, but it wasn't very realistic to fly clear to New York for one night, and head back only to be expected in at work. Physically it wasn't possible, and he felt bad for abandoning his family during the holidays.

Last year he had spent the day watching old television reruns, which for him were actually new, considering he hadn't caught them the first time around. He would order a little takeout, fall asleep on the couch once he had eaten.

This year he was actually looking forward to it. He needed a night off, needed some time to unwind. How quickly things change…

"Greg and I can do it."

He stopped by the door of the break room, somewhat taken aback as he heard Sara's voice. What exactly could the do?

"And you wouldn't mind us watching?" It was Warrick who spoke then.

"Of course not. We're not embarrassed; it's instinctive, after all. We've done it many times before."

Greg could feel his face get red as he shifted by the door, hearing the others laugh. What exactly was Sara implying? So they had gone on one date, if you could even call it that. They had gone to the movies, and Sara had paid for her own ticket as well. Technically that wasn't a date...was it? Nothing happened afterwards either, though he wouldn't be the first to admit it. However it was obvious Sara was quick to jump the gun.

Was it that she was embarrassed? Was she so humiliated by him that she would lie about something like that to gain attention from the others? He scooted closer as she began talking again.

"If you don't believe me, come over to Greg's place tonight. If we can't do it right, then we'll take some lessons, then give you a free session when we're done."

Greg nearly choked, stammering as Sara nearly plowed him over as she came out the door. "Sara?"

"Not now Greg," she cut him off, grabbing his wrist with her hand. "We need to get busy."

"I still can't believe you told Warrick and Nick that I could cook," Greg frowned, checking the items once again. He had a nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.

"Actually I told him that we both could cook…and I'm still having a hard time believing it myself."

"Sara…"

She glanced up at him, saving her place with one finger. "What is it?"

"Where's the turkey?"

Sara blinked once, "I thought you picked it up."

"What?" Greg's cry of surprise had made her jump. He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "You said you were getting it."

She shook her head in protest, "No, I told you that I wasn't getting it. I don't handle any kind of meat, I'm a…"

"Vegetarian, I know," Greg sighed through his teeth. "How are we supposed to cook without a turkey?"

"We just go get one," Sara suggested lightly, her attention back on the book. "Do we want a stuffed turkey?"

"A stuffed turkey?" Greg repeated the question. "What exactly do we stuff it with?"

Sara was quiet for a moment before shrugging. "Stuffing?"

"Were do we get the stuffing from?"

It took longer for her to answer this time, flipping through several pages. "I think we have to cook it."

"What are you reading?" Greg questioned, coming up behind her. He watched over her shoulder as she closed the book, glancing up at him.

"Thanksgiving Cooking for Idiots?"

"It's all I could find. How else are we going to win this bet?"

"I know that we have to take cooking lessons if we lose, but what do we get if we win?" Greg asked her, surprised to see her frown.

"You know, I never got that far to discussing that issue." She smiled up at him apologetically, not thrown off by his frown. "It was a last minute decision. I'm sure we'll figure something out. Go find a turkey so we can get cooking. Everyone will be here soon."

"Sara, it's only seven in the morning. Dinner's not till five."

"These things take time Greg," she cut him off, "and knowing us, it'll take longer than expected. Now get going, I'll start making something…" she glanced around the kitchen as she dropped the book on the table. "I'll make the salad, that should be easy enough."

"Considering it's already made," Greg pointed out, grabbing his keys off the counter.

"Yes, but I have to open it," Sara shot back as he disappeared out the door. She smiled smugly to herself as she pulled a large bowl from underneath the counter. They could win this bet, no problem.

"You bought a frozen turkey?"

Sara was in disbelief, shaking her head as she moved out of the way. Greg cleared what little room there was on the counter before putting the frozen meat down. "It's all they had, besides, what's the big deal?"

"You can't cook a frozen turkey," Sara groaned, rubbing her head with one free hand."

"Okay, no problem, we'll just nuke it." Greg shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't too sure why Sara was overreacting.

"Where?" she demanded, looking towards his microwave. "Can you fit this thing in there?"

"We'll just have to cut it up first. Make it smaller, no biggie."

"Cut a frozen turkey? What kind of knives do you have?"

"Well, my uncle gave me a hatchet for Christmas last year. I suppose that would work, at least I wouldn't be lying to him next time when I tell him that I've used it."

"You are not cutting the bird with a hatchet," Sara warned him. "This is so not good…the turkey's frozen, we're out of soda, and I've killed the potatoes."

"You killed the potatoes?" Greg asked quickly, only to pause for a moment. "How?"

She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair. "I skinned them, just like the book told me too…and they sort of became small…really small."

She reached over, taking the lid off. Greg peered inside, wincing as he did so. Each of the potatoes, which had started off in hefty size, were no bigger than an egg. At first he could have sworn that was what he was looking at, but with closer examination, he could indeed tell that they were potatoes…or used to be at any rate.

"Okay, so we'll have real small portions of mashed potatoes then. I don't really care for them in the first place," he smiled.

"You're really not concerned about any of this, are you?"

"Not really," Greg shrugged his shoulders, his hands slipping inside his pockets. "Considering that I have no idea what I'm doing…I have nothing to compare it too…"

"Okay…I'll work on thawing the turkey…you read up on what to do for the stuffing."

"I thought you didn't handle meat," Greg wondered, frowning at her.

Sara made a face, turning away. "Okay, you work on thawing the turkey, I'll read. And don't use the hatchet."

"You think it's done yet?" Greg wondered, peering into the oven.

"It's only been a couple hours, leave it alone," Sara told him, glancing up at him. "Okay, so the salads done, stuffing's done, potatoes…are about as done as they can get." She lifted the lid, frowning at the white mush that bubbled up at her. "Are you sure this is sanitary?"

Greg nodded, "Put some milk in it, that's what my mom always says."

"The only milk you have is sour…" she pointed out dimly. "We may as well add cottage cheese."

"I'm up to it if you are," he stated lightly, once again watching the oven. "Is it done yet?"

"Don't stand too close to that thing, you're hair might catch fire," Sara warned, smiling softly to herself, "Concerning how much hair spray you put on it."

"Gel," Greg corrected her quickly. "Hair gel; Best of the best actually. Have to pay big to look this good."

Sara only shook her head at the last comment, stirring the potatoes slowly. "They seem kind of…flat," she frowned, scooping some up with the spoon. It fell promptly as she tilted it to the side, and she made a face up at Greg. "Maybe we should put cautionary statements on the dinner plates."

Greg shot up quickly, letting out a sigh. "I forgot, plates. I don't think I have enough plates."

"Chill Greg," Sara laughed as he stretched his hands behind his head, grabbing his hair softly. "I picked paper plates up. I doubted you had anything here at all, considering all the take-out you do."

"And who showed me the best places?" Greg queried, turning towards her.

She cracked a smile, covering the potatoes once more. "I'll help you set the table."

"I thought you were paying attention!" She took another step back, muttering a few course words under her breath as Greg came up behind her.

"How could I when I was sitting right next to you?"

"You were the one cooking the turkey, you were supposed to be paying attention," Sara argued, crossing her arms as Greg pulled the handle on the fire extinguisher. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face as the smoke gathered in the room.

"Go open a window," Greg nodded towards her, coughing as he stepped closer the still smoldering turkey. He hit it with another blast before placing the extinguisher down, taking a good look at the blackened meat. He gave a satisfying nod at Sara, who was working the kitchen window open. "Turkey's done."

Sara shook her head, frowning as she stepped closer. "You are not serving that…it's a disgrace."

"It's perfect," Greg argued, "So it's a little…well done. Better safe than sorry I always say…actually that's what my grandfather always says, but you know what I mean. All we have to do is rinse it off…no one will know."

"I think that the simple fact that it's black is enough of an indication," Sara grumbled as she left the kitchen. She came to the edge of the couch where she collapsed, one hand resting on her forehead as she let out a strangled sigh. Greg was not too far behind, kneeling down so that he was eye level with her.

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered softly. "I didn't mean to get you into this mess. I don't know what crazy thing I was trying to prove, saying that we could cook…"

Greg shrugged, leaning against the couch. "The way I see it, we can. We've won the bet."

Sara frowned this time, looking at him candidly, "What do you mean we won the bet?"

"We cooked; they said nothing about the food having to good, or even decent for that matter. So we killed the turkey, murdered the mashed potatoes and destroyed the kitchen. We still cooked."

Sara laughed, her gaze moving back up to the ceiling. "We did, didn't we?"

"Just don't expect a contract from the Food Network any time soon."

Sara's gaze flicked to the clock, smiling once again. "They'll be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Then we better get busy."

"This is all very….interesting," Warrick commented, eyeing his plate.

"You know, I'm not much of a bird man…but isn't turkey meat supposed be white?" Nick wondered from across the table, holding up the black piece of meat.

"Salad's not bad," Catherine offered up, trying to give her friends some support.

"Check that out," Greg laughed, placing his spoon down on the table. "I've never been able to make a snowman out of mashed potatoes before."

"Now I don't feel so bad for making fun of his cooking," Warrick whispered, leaning over towards the Texan.

"That's not very nice," Sara spoke up quickly before the others intervened. Nick and Warrick both looked up at the same time, surprised to see her smile. "I helped too."

"It's actually not that bad," Grissom commented, "once you get past the burnt part."

"At any rate, when are you two taking cooking lessons?" Warrick asked, resting his weight on the table.

"We're not," Greg had cut Sara off before she could speak up. "We cooked, that was the deal."

Nick was doing his best to muffle his laughter as the other man watched in on shock. "You call this cooking?"

"Well, technically they did win the bet. Everything is cooked, most of it more than it needed be, but it's still cooked. And Greg's right, that was the deal."

Letting out a sigh a defeat he shook his head. "Fine, you two win, you don't have to take cooking lessons. There goes our chance of a free meal Nicky."

The Texan shrugged his shoulders, laying his fork down to rest on the edge of the paper plate. "I was here for the entertainment, not the free food. I wanted to come earlier but Warrick wouldn't let me."

"That's probably a good thing," Sara commented quickly, earning a laugh from everyone. "So, now that it's been decided…what do we get?"

To this Warrick frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We won the bet, what do we get?" Sara repeated herself.

"I'll tell you what," Greg cut them off, retiring his own fork as well. "He's paying for takeout."

"What takeout?" Warrick wondered lightly, watching the younger CSI stand.

"The takeout I'm about to order now." He gave him half a smile before the others joined in laughter, moving to gather their own plates in the effort to clean up the mess.

He had gone into the hallway to make the call, surprised to see that Sara had followed him. Holding the phone to his chest he looked curiously at the brunette that was standing there, the silent question passing between. Sara moved closer, wrapping her arms around his neck in a warm embrace, kissing him gently on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. "I know this was really unfair to you…it meant a lot though."

She gave him one last kiss before heading back out into the kitchen, leaving Greg to watch her depart. Standing alone in the hallway Greg could only smile. The night hadn't gone exactly as planned…but at the same time it couldn't have been any better. He was still smiling as he turned away, dialing the number he knew by memory. It was Thanksgiving after all, and there were many things to be thankful for, and they were in the other room. He couldn't have asked for anything better.

The End