A/T: Hey all! Thanks for all your love and input. Writing for you is a pleasure!

In the middle of this chapter, I'm forced to call David 'Hodges'. I like calling him David because it kind of makes it more personal, but you'll see why as it goes on. Don't ask me why, but I don't particularly like this chapter. But is any writer ever really satisfied with their work?

Grammar mistakes are all mine. Oh, and chapter 11 of Out With It shall be unveiled soon!

Disclaimer: Not yours, not mine. -sniffle-

Dedication: You guys totally know who you are! And Tenshi Nanashi, who loves Hodges just as much as I do!

Snapshots
Act 8: Wherein Another David Presents Himself and Jacqui Lays Down The Law

"Nick? You know I support your sexual preferences and all, but we've gotta talk."

"Talk? About what?"

"I'm not dissing Hodges, but-"

"What does he have to do with anything?"

"I found this picture of you two in that file you guys had. And why are there white dots by your arm?"

"They're ghosts."

"Nick, it's lint on a camera lens."

"Try telling Lester Monroe that."

"Who's Lester Monroe?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm sure it is. Either way, this little thing you have with Hodges-''

"Thing? There's no 'thing'."

"Nick, you guys have a thing."

"No, we don't."

"Yes you do."

"No we don't."

"Don't make me stand here and argue with you about it."

"Warrick, I'll be sure to tell you when David and I have a 'thing'."

"You just called him David."

"It's his first name! Can't we call people by their first names without having to sleep with them?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that you guys have a thing."

"We don't have a thing."

"Yes you do."

"No we don't."

"You took him on a date."

"How did you know about that?"

"Uh, seriously?"

"Of course I'm being serious."

"Well, Jacqui didn't want to fess up at first, but when I found this picture-''

"You found a picture of us and assumed we were dating?"

"I was curious. I'm a CSI."

"So you asked and she told you?"

"It took some serious prodding, man."

"And now you think we have a 'thing'?"

"The date's kinda supporting my theory. And you've been floating around a bit." Pause. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

"I just don't want anyone to give David crap about dating a guy. Most people won't mess with us, but…"

"Technicians are different. I get you."

"Good."

"So… you and Hodges? It's a 'thing', right?"

"Maybe."

"Dude, you've been smiling like you've won the jackpot."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have."

"I have not."

"Yes you have."

"No I haven't."

"Don't make me stand here and argue with you about it."

…

David Phillips never considered himself to be the brightest crayon in the box, but he was aware of one irrefutable truth: he most certainly did not belong in the crime lab. No, the morgue was definitely more his style. There were less people to bother, less conversations to interrupt, and fewer hallways to get lost in. Frankly, he didn't like the lab all that much because he didn't really fit in with any particular crowd. Dead people didn't judge him, and he appreciated that.

"You look like someone just shot your dog," said a voice, startling the coroner standing awkwardly in the hallway. 'Startling', of course, meant he jumped a few inches before spinning around and attempting to stammer out an excuse as to his being there. A complete stranger had spoken to him, which always equaled a cause for alarm and, inevitably, introversion.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, straightening his glasses and shooting a sweet looking man a nervous look. No one was supposed to talk to him except Gil Grissom and after that, he was supposed to head right back to the morgue. Why was this man engaging in what was destined to be a mundane conversation? What had had done to deserve this?

"I said you look a little uncomfortable here," the man reiterated. "Y'know, you don't have to hug the walls like that."

"Uncomfortable? Maybe a little," David admitted. "I guess I'm not used to being in the lab. I'm here to deliver the report on the deceased, but Grissom appears to be out."

"He won't be back for a long while. You might wanna pull you up a chair and find yourself a magazine. As a matter of fact, I hear there's traffic jam six miles from here that has the entire city tied up. I bet you a dollar he's stuck in the middle of it."

David didn't like the sound of that at all; he wanted to be able to catch Grissom before the older man was crushed beneath another pile of cases, but there was no reason to simply stand in the middle of the hallway to wait for him. The term "traffic jam" was dreaded among the citizens of Las Vegas and if Grissom really was stuck in traffic, it would simply be a waste of time for David to hang around when he had work to do.

"So what are you doing, just waiting for Grissom?"

"Yes. Why? Am I in your way? Because I can move to his office or-''

Ronnie quickly shook his head. "I was asking if you want to eat lunch with us. I have meatball sandwiches." He lifted the tantalizing bag, allowing the scent of delicious tomato sauce and Parmesan cheese to waft towards David's nose. Such an action was really quite evil, because Ronnie was making it extra difficult for David to resist. David's stomach growled, reminding him he had skipped breakfast and the celery sticks he had eaten for dinner the morning before had long since dissipated, leaving him to run on fumes alone.

"I couldn't," he said, his stomach at odds with his common sense. He had never grabbed lunch with a complete stranger before, but his appetite was telling his common sense to go screw itself.

"Of course you could."

"I don't want to intrude."

"On what, our lunch? Good gracious, I eat with a crowd who lives to intrude. I'm Ronnie Litre, but the way. Pleased to meet you."

David stared at the hand that was offered with uncertainty. Shaking hands was considered ideal social manners, wasn't it? Right. He could do that. "David Phillips. Nice to meet you too."

"Good. Now are you coming or what?"

"I'd really-''

Ronnie sighed. All of the Davids in his life seemed to be so anti-social; what was the deal with that? With a nod of his head, he slung his right arm around David's hunched figure, taking a lesson from Jacqui and not giving the coroner any choice but to follow him. David, jumping at the alien contact, had little chance to protest as Ronnie all but dragged him down the hallway, speaking like he would a best buddy. It had always been easy for Ronnie to make friends; he was a pleasant character with a good sense of humor. David Phillips, on the other hand, looked as if Ronnie were leading him towards the firing squads.

They quickly approached the break room, David catching sight of three others occupying the space. They were sitting around a lunch table, two speaking gaily and the third looking as if he had been condemned to some sort of torturous fate. David could certainly relate to that feeling; after all, it was one thing to meet someone new, but being shoved into a complete circle of strangers was just plain cruel.

As Ronnie pulled the glass door open, a dark haired woman spun around in her seat at the table. She was very pretty, but seemed to have a secure, don't-mess-with-me persona that had David wishing he had taken the job in New York instead. "Hey Ronnie!" she beckoned, motioning them to hurry up with her hand. "I'm dying to know about David's date. Get over here!"

It took all of 1.5 seconds for David to decide that he didn't want to be there.

"You know," David began, turning towards Ronnie and hoping he could avoid the frightening woman currently residing within the room. "I really don't have to eat. I've got tons of paperwork to do and-"

Ronnie merely waved his hand, dismissing the nervous excuse. "She's not that scary when you get to know her," he reassured, leading him onwards. Not that scary? Wasn't he being a bit kind his with use of words? The term 'terrifying' seemed so much more appropriate.

"Sorry I'm late," Ronnie apologized as he approached the group, sliding into a chair while the other three made room. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Just a snark war," Archie replied, giving his friend a grin over the can of Coke he was currently nursing.

"Oh? What's the score?"

"David's a couple points ahead, but Jacqui's got some zingers up her sleeve."

"In that case, please continue," he insisted, quickly ridding the plastic bags of its contents and, as promised, handing half of his submarine sandwich to the coroner, who graciously accepted it with a quiet 'thanks'. He was uncomfortable and didn't want to be there, but if he was going to suffer, then he was going to suffer with sated hunger.

"And who have we here?" Jacqui inquired, shooting their visitor an interested look. "Are you new?"

David shook his head, quickly wiping a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth with Ronnie's offered napkin. "David Phillips, coroner," he introduced, politely holding out his hand. All five had been working at the lab for several years, but had never had any reason to meet before. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Great to meet you too," she replied, quickly shaking the offered hand with a firm grip. "I'm Jacqui Franco. This is Archie Johnson, David Hodges, and Ronnie, of course. We're technician extraordinaires."

Hodges acknowledged David's presence with a nod of his head while Archie sent him a friendly wave and said, "We have two Davids now? If you're anything like our first one, then we're in trouble."

"Two people named David," Hodges observed, dryly retorting to Archie comment. "What are the odds of that? Especially if you consider the other hundred thousand men named David on Earth."

"You'll have to excuse him," Jacqui apologized, turning towards David with an amused smile. "He was born with an intolerance to good moods. Doctors everywhere are baffled by it."

Ronnie cleared his throat and arched a disapproving eyebrow towards the group before saying, "I found David trying to be invisible in the middle of the hallway. He was waiting for Grissom and I invited him to have lunch for us, but I was hoping that we could act like normal human beings for at least a few minutes."

"Waiting for Grissom with today's traffic? Buddy, you must have some patience," Archie observed, now munching on a bag of Doritos.

"And what do you mean act like normal human beings?" Jacqui asked, obviously displeased with Ronnie's choice of words. "You mean we aren't normal?"

"Jacq, you have to wear pantyhose because you won't shave your legs."

She let out a horrified squeak, her eyes darting to the now seriously unnerved coroner before returning her gaze to Ronnie, who continued downing his sandwich as if nothing had happened. Archie fell silent, trying to appear as innocent as possible while Hodges, unable to control his amusement, burst into a short bout of laughter and high-fived a completely calm Ronnie from across the table.

Jacqui was still too appalled to speak.

"Have you seen Bobby?" Hodges asked, disregarding the woman's current state of complete and utter dismay.

"He was just comparing some bullets," the other man replied. David froze at this new information, his thoughts on two different planes. First, there was someone else who belonged in this obviously insane group? He wasn't sure if he could take much more of this, especially when he considered that there was an additional technician who fit in with these people. Second, was Jacqui really okay? She appeared to be losing color to her cheeks and David would hate to have to see her on a metal table with a Y incision on her chest. "It should have taken him five minutes to match, two minutes to label, three minutes to put up his supplies and grab his lunch. By all accounts, he should be here right about-''

"Hey guys," Bobby breathlessly greeted, busting through the door and clutching a brown paper bag that most likely contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on wheat bread with baked potato chips and an apple. "Sorry I'm late."

"Now," Ronnie finished, apparently pleased at his accurate timeline.

"I'm behind schedule, I know," Bobby apologized as he strode towards the soda machine, fishing for two quarters in his jean pocket. "Ecklie gave me some extra bullets to process right before break."

"Sure," Archie replied, plainly teasing. "You just wanted to spend as little time with us as possible."

"And miss all this quality time to trade insults and evil plots?" Bobby asked, mock disappointment coloring his voice as he found the appropriate change, put it into the machine, and pressed the Coke button with his thumb. "You must be mad. Now are you guys going to make room for me or what?"

Hodges, Archie, Ronnie, and David scrunched together to make room for one more. Bobby plopped between Jacqui and David before reaching over and stealing one of Archie's Doritos. David, still unable to relax, felt himself grow even more nervous at the new addition. The man next to him… well, David had noticed him before, but only by way of glances through a glass wall whenever Grissom was too flooded with work to make it to the morgue downstairs. This was, of course, very rare. What was his name again? Bobby? He sounded like a nice guy. It was too bad David knew he'd stutter his way into another humiliating display of intelligence.

Bobby glanced at an unusually quiet Jacqui before turning to the rest of the group. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, indicating the silent woman with a nod of his head.

"It was revealed to an unfortunate stranger that our resident fingerprint expert boycotts shaving cream and razors," Hodges replied, looking entertained at Jacqui's death glare.

"I suppose you're the unfortunate stranger, huh?" Bobby asked, turning towards David. The coroner shifted uneasily and nodded, choosing to look at the table instead of the bullet expert. He had to get out of here… and fast. But what excuse was believable enough to use?

"He's kind of shy," Archie explained, smiling sympathetically at David's silent form. "His name's David Phillips, coroner."

"You work with Robbins, right?" Bobby asked, his interest seemingly genuine. David forced his muscles to move as he glanced up to fleetingly meet Bobby's eyes.

"Yes. I don't usually need to come to the lab, but I was waiting for Grissom."

"With that jam downtown?"

"Apparently, the morgue isn't the traffic hotspot."

"You might have a point there. I don't suppose you're the same person some of the CSIs refer to as Super Dave, are you?"

"Regrettably."

"May I ask why that is?"

David couldn't help but laugh softly at the question; he had been asking himself the same thing quite a long time. "Ask one of them for me. I'm still not sure why and it's been at least three years."

Bobby shot him a friendly smile, as if amused by David in some way, before David looked back towards the others and prayed he wasn't blushing. With his luck, Bobby was probably smiling at some tomato sauce he possibly missed.

David was relieved when he realized that Jacqui had finally found her lost voice and (after delivering a wince-worthy kick to Ronnie's leg from underneath the table) decided to speak. "We're all here," she surmised, her dignity slightly restored. "And as you know, today's a special day for gossip mills everywhere. In other words, there's officially no reason Dave can't tell all."

"When were you going to tell us about it?" Archie asked, sending Hodges an accusing look. David Phillips glanced up. Which one were they talking about? Right; he was the one in the middle. He was good looking when he wasn't scowling; instead, he seemed to be rather nervous, hoping to escape the looming conversation. On top of it, he looked understandably embarrassed by Archie's query. "Never? This is the biggest thing to happen since-''

"Since you tried to ask Leslie out, right? The lady at the front desk?"

"Must we always go back to that?"

"Always," Jacqui confirmed, giving her friend a teasing smile. "However, David's date certainly tops it. We want places visited, foods eaten, events that followed once you arrived home-''

"Whoa, whoa," Ronnie interrupted, holding up his hand to silence her. "Places visited and food eaten is fine. Anything surpassing that is off limits."

"You guys are no fun," Jacqui muttered. "What if they made passionate love?"

"Then we don't want to know about it!" Bobby instantly replied. "Don't you have any shame? And besides, who in their right mind would want to tell us whether or not they slept with someone?" There was a pause in his explanation before Bobby sent a curious look in David Hodges's horrified direction. "You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

The technician was stunned at the frank query. "No, I didn't! We didn't even… you know," he muttered, looking anywhere except at the intent crowd in front of him.

"Make out?" Archie supplied.

"Do we really have to talk about this?"

"Wait, are you saying you guys didn't even have a good night kiss?" Jacqui asked, her expression one of absolute shock. Hodges shook his head before sinking deeper into his chair, as if hoping the Earth might be sympathetic to his mortification and swallow him whole.

"Was it that bad?" Ronnie asked, seemingly understanding. "Because if it was a bad date, then I'm sure we can all agree that no one kisses on a bad first date."

"We just decided to take it slow."

"How slow?"

"Imagine the traffic jam downtown."

"That's pretty slow," Archie observed, looking wise over his now-empty bag of chips. "Let's timeline this, shall we? Say, for instance, one minute equals one month. If it takes forty-five minutes to get from downtown to this lab in the midst of a gridlock, then you'll finally jump each other's bones in about forty-five months. And FYI, you'll be about forty-two by then. Make sense?"

"Only to you, goober," Hodges muttered, unable to sink any lower into his chair. Jump each other's bones? Was vulgarity a worldwide epidemic, or was it only contagious in Las Vegas?

Jacqui, immune to Archie's nerdy mathematic skills, gazed at Hodges with a disappointed manner. "Then what, we have no juicy gossip?"

"Well, he likes Sprite."

"That's not gossip," Jacqui whined. "A date with Nick is-''

David Phillips never meant to choke and most certainly never meant to actually involve himself with the conversation. He was perfectly intent on listening to what was being said and mooch off an almost-complete-stranger's lunch instead, but the next question that tumbled out of his mouth was due to no fault of his own. He was, after all, in a condition of gossip-induced surprise.

"You're dating Nick? Nick Stokes?" he managed to ask once he had cleared his air pipes. Nick was a rumored ladies man; it was simply surprising that he would be seeing another guy. However, this little fact certainly didn't change the coroner's view of him. Nick was such a great person; he was funny, intelligent, and polite. He didn't deserve anyone's scrutiny when it came to his choices of partners.

"Why is everyone so incredibly floored by this?" Hodges muttered. "It's not like I don't date. I do date. As a matter of fact, he asked me out."

"I know," David hurriedly replied, hoping not to offend the other man. "It's just… it's Nick."

"I know who he is."

"I know you know who he is," David quickly replied. "I didn't mean anything by it. It's just that… it's surprising. A good surprising."

"See?" Ronnie asked, turning towards Hodges. "David's a nice guy. We know that you know that he knows that you know who Nick is."

Even Archie, who had only moments ago timelined Nick and Hodges's relationship by using the traffic jam a few miles away, had to blink at Ronnie's comment before attempting to process the words.

"I'd ask you to repeat that, but I just don't want to know."

"Of course you do," Ronnie replied. "Go ahead and ask."

"No way. I'm a computer nerd, not a literary master."

"So you say. Anyway, I said that 'we know that you know that he knows who Nick is.' See, I was trying to state that the six of us knew that Hodges knew that David…"

Their voices faded out as Hodges's eyes traveled towards the coroner in question. He was no CSI, but he could deduce a clue when he saw one. He wasn't Cupid either, but he wasn't blind. Although, upon witnessing the sickening display in front of him, he almost wished he was.

Bobby and David were… well, Bobby was kind of staring at him, as if trying to deduce a puzzle that no one else was aware of. Then David would glance up and Bobby would look away, neither would look in each other's direction, David would chance a peek, Bobby would catch his eye, they'd both look away and… holy hell. It was the geek mating ritual. He vaguely remembered Sara and Grissom going through this.

Had only Hodges noticed this, he never would have told Jacqui. Sure, she would have hounded both the bullet technician and M.E. until they finally made their move, forcing them to admit their feelings and thus allowing them to be happy for the rest of their days, but David knew all too well what it was like to simply not want to make a move. The problem was that Jacqui seemed to be catching wind of it as well. Her sharp, observant eyes were watching the show with an interest that, quite frankly, scared Hodges to bits. When she got that look of concentration, he knew what would predictably follow: one of her brilliant schemes that would inevitably end in his asking, "How do you propose we get out of this fine mess?"

She turned her head and caught Hodges's gaze. She cocked an eyebrow and knew he had noticed Bobby and David Phillips's odd behavior while Archie and Ronnie babbled on, none the wiser. Oh, well. They would get in the loop eventually, because Jacqui wouldn't let this die. As a matter of fact, it was usually the five of them who schemed together.

This time, it was poor Bobby who was the victim.

…

David didn't like people in his lab. Period. He didn't care if it was Grissom, Ecklie, or the President himself; it was his lab and as such, no one should be inside without his explicit permission. He was thus forced to bite his tongue when he caught sight of a man who looked suspiciously like Animal Control sitting on his chair in front of his computer in his lab, scratching behind Nana's ears while simultaneously balancing a clipboard on his knee, filling out what looked to be a horrifying amount of paperwork. Where had David been when this injustice occurred? Take ten minutes for lunch and suddenly people are making themselves at home in your lab. Whatever happened to decency?

David didn't like this.

He didn't like it at all.

"Can I help you?" The accusing tone in his voice was intentional. He wasn't sure who this guy thought he was, but he had put a collar around Nana's neck and David had the sinking suspicion that this guy was planning to cart her off to some shoddily run government facility.

The man glanced up and gave David an easy smile despite the technician's stern expression. He was your Average Joe; about five foot nine with graying temples and a bit of a potbelly, donning a scraggly mustache and sideburns on his face. His nametag read Joel Sullivan and he was most definitely from Animal Control.

"I doubt it, sir. I'm just picking up the goat."

"Nana?"

"Whatever her name is, I was called to take her back with me. I bet it's been difficult with her in your lab, so I'll be out of here as quickly as I can."

David slowly approached, like a wary predator sniffing out its potentially dangerous prey. He had to be eloquent about this, if such a thing was possible.

"And where the hell do you intend on taking her?"

So much for the eloquence.

"Just the local shelter. Can't say she's gonna blend in with all those dogs, though."

He laughed, foolishly expecting David to join in. He immediately sobered up when he found himself on the wrong side of David's patented glare.

"Think anyone will buy her?"

"I can't say there's a big chance. Not a lot of people want a goat in the middle of Vegas."

David didn't like the sound of that, either. "So what happens if no one takes her home?"

"Same thing that happens to all the animals, I'm afraid."

It was official. Joel Sullivan couldn't be allowed to leave the building.

"What, you're going to put her to sleep?"

"Most likely."

And it wasn't like David had gotten attached to her or anything, especially the way she looked at him with big eyes or walked around within the lab, exploring corners, but death seemed so… extreme. The thought of her demise was rather unsettling and made him uncomfortably depressed. But what was he supposed to do? Poison good ol' Joel with some cyanide and steal Nana away? It was both illegal and impractical, the impracticality bothering him more then the issues of law.

There was something he could do, of course, but it was equally as unreasonable. Then again, Greg's unreasonableness and stupidity had long since rubbed off on him, infecting him with his twisted logic and lack of common sense.

Maybe he could get away with that excuse.

"How much would she be?"

Joel looked up from his third page of forms and blinked, slowly absorbing the question. "Beg your pardon?"

"What, did I stutter? I asked you how much it would cost to buy her."

"Well, I'd have to see, but I doubt it'd hurt your wallet."

"Fine. Who do I make out the check to?"

"I'm sorry?"

David rolled his eyes. This guy either needed a hearing aid or a lesson in how to answer questions with an actual answer.

"Where do I sign? How much do I pay? I want to buy her."

"You want to buy her?"

David had a feeling this conversation was going to take a very long time.

"Yes, I want to buy her. What's it going to take?"

"Well, a check, I suppose. And some legal forms, but that shouldn't take long," Joel replied, rising from his seat and casting the technician a bewildered glance. "I can stop by the office and get the paperwork. You mind if she stays here 'til I get back?"

"Of course not."

"You sure?"

"No, I lied the first time."

Joel opened his mouth to reply with a possible response of "Uh… are you sure?" before David crossed his arms and shot him an impatient look. If Joel didn't hit the road, David wasn't going to be held liable for his actions. Joel, obviously understanding David's sentiments, quickly tipped is hat, grabbed his clipboard, and turned towards the lab's doorway, scurrying down the hall and heading for the blessed exit. Despite his body type, the man could make tracks if he so desired and if the way he nearly tripped over Nick was any indication, he clearly wanted out of there.

David watched as Nick directed a confused look at the poor man before turning to look at David through the wall, arching an eyebrow that portrayed his suspicion with an unmistakable accuracy. The Texan knew David had something to do with Joel's swift exit and being the CSI that he was, he wanted to know why.

David tried to appear as calm as possible when Nick opened the trace lab door. Considering he was harboring a goat and that his gut was suddenly becoming a nervous wreck, he was pulling off the calm thing surprisingly well.

"That Animal Control guy was sure in a hurry," Nick observed, his voice laced with amusement and knowing.

"Hm. He was busy and had to make his rounds," David replied, his lie completely see-through but his voice betraying nothing.

"Probably," agreed the other man, evidently willing to play the game if that meant he could get answers. "But it seems mighty strange that he'd forget to take the goat he was assigned to pick up."

Damn him! How was David supposed to reply to that one? He forgot her. Not even his toddler niece would believe that, and she believed everything.

The technician was silent as Nick leaned against the evidence counter with his hip and had a smug look on him, aware that he had won and enjoying every second of his victory. The possibility of creating an intricate, detailed lie regarding the entire situation was feasible, but it would have to be incredibly complex and he was just too damn flustered for that. Why did Nick have to stand so close to him?

"Fine," he conceded, not wanting to back away but finding it necessary for the sake of his sanity. "You win. I bought her."

Nick quirked an eyebrow. "You bought Nana? And let me warn you, man," he continued, taking up residence in David's chair in front of David's computer in David's lab… and somehow, it didn't irk David like it usually did. "It'll mean that somewhere inside of you lies a heart that gives a damn."

"Gives a damn?" David asked, as if scandalized. "Excuse me, but I do not give a damn. I just don't want her-''

"Dead?"

"Permanently incapacitated. Now, of course, I have to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with her."

"Not wanting her dead constitutes as giving a damn," Nick replied, looking all too amused at the situation. "You realized what just happened, don't you?"

David groaned. "Good God, don't go there. It's not like-''

"You got attached to her," Nick chanted, grinning like that cat that caught the canary. "See? I told you."

"Told me? Okay, sure. I'll let you think whatever your little delusional mind tells you, but I'd prefer if you wouldn't tell anyone else."

"Tell people what?" Nick asked, a teasing smile on his face. He rose from his seat and took a few steps back, inching dangerously towards the door. David sent him a steady look, as if warning him not to dare open his mouth lest he meet his Maker early.

"Nick Stokes, I swear I'll-''

"Because I would never tell people that…" Nick trailed off before leaning out of the threshold of the lab, bellowing down the hallway to anyone within earshot, "David Hodges bought Nana!"

Although he was sure that his next action wasn't going to help his defense any, David quickly scrambled over to the Texan, wrapped his arms around his neck, and clamped his hand over Nick's mouth. Perhaps his mode to achieve the silence he so desperately wanted was a bit obvious (especially amidst the glass walls), but he ignored this in favor of questioning the man who was now at his mercy. "What are you doing?" David asked, wholly aghast. "I'm trying to keep this as quiet and possible and you tell half of the lab?"

He was tempted to simply stay like that and deny Nick both air and the chance to explain himself when a tall brunette by the name of Sara Sidle walked in, casting a curious look towards each man. David was sure the scene appeared rather strange; after all, he was practically suffocating Nick whilst forbidding him from speaking. And their position was odd as well: David's chest was against Nick's back while his left arm wrapped around the Texan's neck and his right hand was glued over his lips.

"Should I ask?" Sara asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, you shouldn't. As a matter of fact, turn around so you won't have to watch me finish this guy off."

Instead of obeying David's request, Sara parked herself in Nick's previous seat. She looked amused and her smile was more than just a little suggestive.

"So what did you do, Hodges? I thought I heard Nick shout something about a certain goat."

Nick managed a few muffled words, but David tightened his grasp around the Texan, successfully quieting him.

"I don't know what he said, but it was a flat-out lie. Whatever he says after this regarding any goat is also a lie. Don't believe a word of it."

"Y'know, I've never known Nick to lie," Sara mused, obviously entertained by the spectacle before her. "Looks to me like you're covering something up."

"Then go investigate it, CSI lady."

"It's hard to investigate when my main witness is being denied one of the main components of life."

"Oxygen's overrated."

"And this may be a bit off topic, but you guys look really cute together."

David froze and, in the span of his short bout of shock, Nick managed to break away from the vice grip that had been holding him in place. He took in a few gulps of air before he and Sara shot each other triumphant grins; David immediately knew her "cute" comment had been used to free Nick from his captor. It was so incredibly transparent. Why had he fallen for it?

"So Nicky," she languidly began, ignoring David's glare of absolute hatred. "What's this I hear about a goat?"

"Dave bought Nana. Heard she was going to get the needle."

Sara's eyebrows rose and she turned to the technician, truly surprised. "That's so…"

"If you say 'decent', I'm putting all of your evidence on the bottom of the pile."

"I was going to say 'sweet'."

"That's it. You should have your fiber results around this time next year."

Sara, obviously not taking his threat seriously, quickly turned and peered out of the glass wall behind her. She squinted, clearly looking for someone. A bright, gap-toothed grin plastered over her face as Greg rounded the corner and David knew he was officially done for. As Greg began to pass his lab, Sara hastily rapped on the wall, successfully gaining the attention of the blonde. " Come get a load of this!" she mouthed, Greg arching an eyebrow before turning to join the little party.

"What's the big news?" the CSI asked, wandering into the lab before shooting David a quirky grin, as if suddenly privy to the fact that David was the center of the gossip mill that evening.

"Hodges bought Nana."

"The goat?"

"Good God, Sanders," David snapped, glaring at the other man. "It's not as if I bought a human named Nana." Why did this have to be such a headline? Why couldn't he just sign some papers and go on with his life? Why was he being tormented this way?

"And Dave just volunteered this information?"

"I got it from Nick," Sara replied, looking self-satisfied. David suddenly wished Bobby were there, preferably with a gun.

"Are you telling me Dave allowed Nick to volunteer this information?"

"Actually, I had to free Nick from his iron hold. Hodges wouldn't let him talk."

"No talking? Sounds kinky."

"Sanders, if I had a heavy blunt object right now, you'd better believe you'd be the target."

"Y'know Dave, that sounds like a threat, and I don't take too kindly to threats." Beat, grin, laugh. "Don't make me tell the world about your new pet."

"Don't make me incapacitate your permanently."

"It's going to be hard to incapacitate me when I knock you unconscious."

"It's going to be hard to knock me unconscious if you're dead."

Greg moved to reply, but paused a moment before exhaling, forfeiting the snark war for the day. He so rarely won anyway and David's last zinger had left him with little to work with. After all, how could he beat the trace tech if he were theoretically dead?

In the corner, Nana rose from her place on the floor and walked over to David to affectionately nudge his knee. The CSI trio grinned at him from their places in his lab; he was tempted to ignore the animal and keep his pride, but she nudged him again and he heaved a suffering sigh before bending to scratch her behind the ears.

…

Jacqui Franco was an intelligent woman who just happened to work the graveyard shift and, as a result, didn't have much time to meet men. The only one in their group who was hitched was Ronnie, who loved his wife and who Jacqui considered to be a very lucky man. But Ronnie had been married for quite a while and his chances of getting hurt were slim to none. The thought of David dating, however, was unsettling. He had been damaged too many times for Ronnie, Archie, Bobby, or herself to trust just anyone that happened to walk into his life, even if it was the handsome, All American CSI with a killer smile and…

Jacqui grimaced. David was a damn lucky man, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that no matter how moralistic/humanistic/really good-looking Nick Stokes happened to be, he had the capability to hurt David just like anyone else, and Jacqui didn't want that to happen. As a matter of fact, she refused to let that happen and the rest of her group (sans David) agreed with a vigor she had never seen before.

She wasn't sure how long she had been planning the discussion she was going to have with Nick, but she was pretty sure that it was hitting the two-hour mark when Nick strode into her lab, shooting her a friendly smile. That particular smile often disarmed even the toughest of characters, but she didn't allow it to faze her. A wolf in sheep's clothing was still a wolf and there was nothing anyone could do to change the fact.

"Hey ya, Jacqui. Got those prints yet?"

Why, yes she did. And wasn't it convenient that she could choose to hold them hostage for as long as she pleased?

"You bet, Nick."

She held a folder out to Nick, tantalizing him with the creamy color and promising printouts that were encased within. He reached out to take it and-

"So I heard you and David had a nice time Saturday night," Jacqui casually began, having taken the folder back and beginning to casually thumb through it. Nick blinked. He had been an entire two inches from taking the file and she had suddenly retracted it, leaning against the counter as if she had all the time in the world.

"We did," he answered, somewhat wary and rather perplexed at her uncharacteristic actions as he withdrew his hand. "Went to dinner and then to his place."

Too-relaxed-to-be-real. "Sounds like fun."

A strained reply. "It was."

There was another long moment before Jacqui speedily turned to face the Texan. She had never been one to feign affection or politeness, nor had she ever been inclined to pollute a conversation with small talk. If she wanted answers, then she was going to ask for them without a mess of nonessential words as a prelude. "Let's cut the crap, shall we?"

"Let's," Nick replied, leaning against the counter opposite from her and crossing his arms. He and Jacqui usually got along well and it felt strange that there would be anything tense between them. "I can tell you want to say something."

"David is one of my best friends. He's a complicated, irritating, genius, spirited man, and if you cause him anything less than absolute bliss, you better believe I'll be on you like white on rice. Got it?"

Nick met Jacqui's determined gaze and nodded. "I don't have any intention of hurting him."

"Nick, all that matters is what you actually do. I'm sure your intentions are pure and all, but hurting him will inevitably result in Bobby putting you in a chokehold while Ronnie tapes you to a chair."

Nick took a breath. "Understood."

"Good."

"Is that all?"

Jacqui cleared her throat. "We may not be the most popular group in this lab. Well, it's not like we're unpopular, we're just…"

"The freak show?"

"I was going to say intellectual group."

"Sorry."

"My point was that maybe you could grab lunch with us sometime. We really want to know the guy who's finally dating David. Besides, you have to pass the test anyway."

"There's a test?"

Jacqui gave Nick a stern look and the Texan knew that there were, without a doubt, no mistakes allowed. "Nick Stokes, you better believe there's a test. And from this moment forward, Dave's off limits until you ace it."

Today was Monday. And as both David and Garfield would say, Monday's were bad things.

Somehow, they had just gotten worse.

Here we are
face to face
same energy.
You and me
don't wanna be
enemies.

Mr. James Dean, Hilary Duff

TBC.

More to come very soon! Tell me what you like/didn't like/want to see! (I know I want some hot and heavy lip-locking. Darn my timelining!)