They were sprawled in the hallway and Grissom had landed mostly on top of Sara.
"Oof," Sara said.
Grissom groaned. His papers that had been tossed in the air snowed down and blanketed the unmoving pair. Every hair on both of their bodies was standing on end. Sara strained upward expectantly…then Greg ran up. "Sara!" he shouted worriedly, "You okay?" Sara said nothing and continued to stare at Grissom. Greg tapped his foot impatiently.
"You planning on getting up any time soon?" Greg asked, even more impatiently, but was shrewdly hatching a new plan.
"Oh," Grissom said absently and rolled off of Sara and stood quickly. Sara still lay on the ground, looking between the two men confusedly. Greg stooped and placed one foot calculatedly on a sheet of paper and offered Sara his hand. She took it and Greg pulled. The paper, of course, slipped and Greg landed on top of Sara.
"Oof," Sara said.
"Sorry," Greg laughed, "That seems to be happening to you a lot recently."
Sara giggled and Grissom got the sudden and violent urge to rip his own hair out.
"So," Sara murmured, "are you going to get off me?"
"Only if you let me take you to dinner," Greg said quietly, and what he hoped was subtlety.
Sara giggled again. Grissom smiled to himself and said, "Greg, I'll invitem myself along, if you don't mind, we need to discuss the case."
It was Greg's turn to get the urge to rip his own hair out. But then he decided that since his hair was his most attractive trait, other than his sense of humor, he would rip his clothes off instead. That aught to get Sara's attention. Just then, Sara poked him.
