Chapter Two: Shopping Fun

Traffic was chaotic. Car horns, screaming passengers, broken mufflers and angry cab drivers form a cacophony of noise that settled around the car and threatened to blow Grissom's recently repaired eardrums out. He rubbed his temples. If he ever found out whose idea this trip was…Brass? Or was it Ecklie? Come to think if it, didn't Cavallo send him off to inform the team? He wasn't sure; he couldn't remember. It was far too hot; the air in the car had become stale and wet, and blanketed the occupants in a think, suffocating heat. Where the hell was Catherine? She'd gone to check them in quite a while ago. The Sheraton, he recalled. Just round the corner from Times Square—in Vegas the location had sounded ideal, but sitting in the humid interior of a SUV in one hundred and ten degree weather, smack in the middle of New York City, the idea sounded…loud, actually…he shook his head.

"Okay," Catherine opened the driver's side of the SUV and rummaged around for her purse and carry-on, "so, here's the deal: there are three rooms, all across from one another. I know we booked six, but apparently the hotel got mixed up. So, we're drawing straws to see who rooms with whom—I've marked them with three different markers. That's about as helpful as the front desk got."

Silence. The four in the back glanced, exasperated, at one another before Nick spoke.

"Gimme one of those straws, then."

One by one, each CSI drew his or her straw from Catherine's hand until all but one of the straws had been drawn.

"Blue and blue—looks like I'm stuck with you, Nicky-boy." Warrick clapped his hand on Nick's shoulder.

"Red and red—I'm with Greg?" Sara asked, shocked.

"Looks like it." Catherine replied.

"Aw, cheer up, Sara. I promise I don't bite." Greg grinned.

Sara half-grimaced, half-smirked.

"It's not the biting I'm worried about." She said. She glanced in between Grissom and Catherine. "You two get to stay together? How totally unfair is that?"

The three other CSIs in the back feigned deafness as they grabbed their bags and climbed out of the SUV. Sara followed a moment later, frowning.

"She seems happy." Catherine slammed the door closed and joined Gil on the other side. His blue eyes were twinkling slightly and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You rigged the straws."

Catherine handed the keys to the awaiting valet, then fell into stride with Grissom as they reached the revolving doors. She smirked.

"Oh, most definitely."

&----

"Okay, care to explain this one?"

Grissom was at a loss for words. The three rooms had somehow become two adjoining suites with two floors.

"I know we didn't pay for this," Greg said, sticking his head through the doorway.

"Hey, guys, I just talked to the woman at the front desk," Sara entered the room. "And she said that the manager upgraded our reservations in repayment for the mix up."

"So, let me get this straight—we go from six rooms to two and that's an upgrade?" Catherine asked, exasperated.

Warrick had climbed the small staircase to the second floor and was now leaning over the small balcony that overlooked the room.

"There's a king-sized bed up here, guys. Two of us could crash up here, two down there, and two in the adjoining."

"Yeah, Warrick, only problem is the bed in the next room is a Queen, same as the one down here." Nick glanced up at the man leaning over the balcony. "So, who wants what?"

Gil and Catherine glanced at each other. If they took the adjoining, they wouldn't have to put up with whatever antics Greg got up to, not to mention they would have some peace and quiet. But, if they took the King-sized bed, they would have a more comfortable, and they could watch over the 'kids'.

Comfort won.

"We'll take the upstairs," Catherine said, in a tone that left no room for argument, "CSI seniority."

"Always playin' that card, huh Cath?" Warrick made his way down the stairs and picked up his travel bag. "Nick and I will take down here."

Sara huffed slightly, swinging her backpack on and marching into the other room.

"Aw, don't worry guys. I'll loosen her up by the end of this trip, I guarantee it."

Gil watched as Greg skipped happily after Sara with a look of apprehension on his face. Seeing this, Nick quickly decided to change the subject.

"So, what do we do now?"

A slow, Cheshire grin crept across Catherine's face.

"We go shopping."

&----

The thing about New York City in the summer is that, despite the sweltering heat and oppressing humidity, thousands of people still came out of droves to take in the sights. Native New Yorkers and tourists alike swarmed the streets outside the hotel, causing Gil to stop and stare at the blurs of colour as people rushed past. It was unbelievable. He'd seen huge crowds in Las Vegas, but they were nothing compared to this. Not even close.

"Cath, are you sure about this?" He asked, gazing at the crowd with absolutely inclination to immerse himself in it.

"Come on, Griss, where's your sense of adventure?" Greg clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. Gil shot him a look over his sunglasses. "Sorry." Greg shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"So, Cath, where to?" Warrick arrived in the lobby and joined Greg, Gil, and Catherine.

"Nick and Sara?"

"Right here."

The six CSIs glanced at each other. Catherine grinned and led the others out into the bustling city.

&----

"I'm not wearing this."

Catherine glanced up from her magazine. She was sitting cross-legged in a squashy armchair situated outside one of the many dressing rooms of Barney's New York. Gil had spent the last ten minutes staring at himself in the mirror of his change room; he couldn't believe that he had allowed himself to be dragged down the streets of New York, then into various sets of clothing he never would have willingly picked out on his own.

"Don't be ridiculous. Let me see you."

Catherine laughed as she heard Gil sigh. The door opened.

She stopped laughing.

He stood before, leaning against the doorframe in a black turtleneck that fit him like a glove, light washed jeans, and black dress shoes. His arms were well defined; his torso slightly toned and a little rounded—not that she minded. He looked more enticing than any man Catherine had seen a long time. And that was saying something.

"I'm not wearing this."

Catherine stood and made her way over to him, running her eyes over his attire.

"You look…really handsome, actually."

He quirked an eyebrow.

"Handsome, huh?"

Catherine flushed. Catherine, he noted, never flushed. Especially when flirting.

"Yes, well—" She was cut off by a loud whistle that made both Gil and Catherine snap back to their surroundings.

"Nice, Griss," Warrick said, his hand looped through the loops of his new purchased jeans. Beside him, Nick laughed.

"Damn, Cath, how'd you get him into clothes that fit?"

"Shut up," Grissom snapped, locking himself once more into the dressing room. "And anyway, how am I supposed to were a turtle neck in one hundred and ten degree weather?"

His voice floated over to them as the jeans he had just been wearing slung themselves over the top of the door.

"Oh, I don't! I'm thinking ahead Gil—you should try it sometime. And, in any case, the rest of things you tried on are fine for this weather. So, hand 'em over." Catherine pulled the jeans down and folded them. "How'd you guys do?"

Nick shrugged.

"Not too bad. Got the essentials. You?"

"Almost done. If I could just get him into something he likes I'd be happy, but you can't have everything." Catherine pulled four more shirts from the top of the door and folded them, too. "I need to go to Saks, and then I'm done."

"Saks? I'm so in." Sara squeezed herself between Nick and Warrick, donned in capris and a t-shirt. She glanced around at the sceptical looks on her companions' faces. "What? Even I need cosmetics, thank you."

Catherine smiled as she folded yet another pair of pants. Gil emerged a moment later in a grey t-shirt and jeans, looking distinctly unhappy.

"Well, at leas they fit him," Warrick said.

"Are you finished torturing me yet?" Gil asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as the strawberry blonde next to him cut the tags off of his shirt and jeans.

"Watch it, or I'll make you wear the linen pants."

Gil glared.

"I will not wear linen pants."

"Oh, yes you will."

"Oh, no I won't."

"Gil, if you don't stop fighting me, I'll—"

"You'll what?"

"I'll make you very sorry, that's what!"

Gil raised an eyebrow.

"I'm scared."

"You should be."

The group watching the two's silence was broken as Greg bounded up, laden with shopping bags and bearing the slogan 'Drop Beats, Not Bombs' on his t-shirt.

"Remind me why I got stuck with all the shopping bags?"

Warrick, Nick, and Sara laughed as they turned and exited the dressing room, Nick looking over his shoulder to say:

"Because you allowed yourself to get stuck, buddy."

&----

The CSIs entered the front lobby of the hotel a little while later; Gil immediately noticed a buzz of activity emanating from the increased crowd gathered in the lobby.

"I take it everyone has arrived," Catherine muttered from beside him.

"Doctor Grissom!"

A burly man with a very shiny bald spot in the middle of his greying hair called to Gil over the crowd. Gil grimaced slightly as the jovial man approached. He had never been fond of the overly buoyant man that was the head of the number one CSI lab in the country, and always detested his far too cheery nature.

"Doctor Grissom, Doctor Grissom," The man shook his head, though giving no indication that he was displeased. "What a pleasant surprise. Didn't expect to see you here, of course."

He stuck out his slightly pudgy hand. Gil shook it reluctantly.

"Well, Friedrich, I'm full of surprises."

Friedrich DaSilva grinned cheekily and glanced around at the five curious CSIs; his gaze lingered on Catherine.

"And this must be you're renowned team! A pleasure, a true pleasure. Friedrich DaSilva, from Norfolk. Aren't you going to introduce us, Doctor?"

Gil looked as though he would sooner have become best friends with Conrad Ecklie than introduce his team to the vile DaSilva, but out of a courtesy Catherine had nearly beat into him, he complied.

"Pardon me—Friedrich DaSilva, meet Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes, and Greg Sanders. Everyone, this is Friedrich DaSilva, head of the lab in Norfolk."

"Number one in the country!" DaSilva laughed, shaking hands with Greg, Warrick, and Nick, and kissing Sara and Catherine's hands.

"Yes, well, if you'll excuse us, Friedrich, we need to be on our way."

"Ah, yes!" DaSilva rocked on the balls of his feet, "freshen up for the festivities—of course, of course. I'll see you all tonight, then!"

And, kissing Sara and Catherine's hands once again, he disappeared into the crowd.

"Hey, Griss—since when are you on first name terms with Friedrich DaSilva?" Warrick asked, staring after the man.

"He's been to every CSI conference I've attended. That's why I never attend. He never passes up an opportunity to remind me who's number one."

Beckoning to them, Gil led the group towards the elevators.

"Hey, Grissom?" Greg asked. "What festivities?"

A/N: Last time I checked, Norfolk was the number one lab in the country, so if I got that wrong, my deepest apologies. Also, I was channelling J.K. Rowling when I came up with Friedrich, so should anyone notice a similarity between he and Horace Slughorn, that's why.
Huge thank-yous to all of my reviewers, who (my God) left me ten reviews within seven hours on the first chapter alone!
soliz, EveryoneIsEntitledToMyOpinion (love the name), karmine, Brittney Landray AKA Muggs (you made me laugh with the "Now What?"!), Cadao, MarciaG (Awesome! I made your month? That just made my month!), Vaquera7 (Thanks so much for pointing that out—I'll definitely keep an eye on that in the future!), dukespencer2, and Ladybug07. Whew!

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