A Definite Bet
Chapter 3
A/N: This chapter is for EllipsesBandit because today is her birthday. You also get a cup of coffee ;) And thank you to Miss Jazz for the story ideas.
Disclaimer #2: I don't own Star Wars either, but damn would my life be good if I did. And if I owned both Star Wars and CSI…
"I bet he's here to gloat," Nick commented as he sipped some wine.
"Gloat?" Warrick said.
"Well, he obviously didn't say anything during the ceremony. He knew he couldn't stop this wedding."
"That's why you turned around when the justice asked if anyone had any objections."
The two men sat at one of the many tables in the restaurant for the reception. The amber colored walls of the private dining area glowed under the soft lights. Couples swayed together on the dance floor while others talked over their delicious dinners.
Nick shook his head in astonishment. "I still can't believe Grissom stepped down."
"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "But you know why he did it; so there'd be no conflict of interest in any cases they worked with him being Sara's boss and husband."
"Which is why I think Ecklie's here to gloat. You know he wants to say something about Catherine being in charge of the team now."
Warrick watched Ecklie talk with the sheriff, the head director, and Hodges on the other side of the room. "You'd think the man would have something better to do with his time than try to put down Griss on his wedding day."
Nick nodded his head. "You'd think."
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Greg carefully guided Sara in small circles on the smooth, wooden floor. After all those years, he was happy he didn't have to think about not stepping on her toes and where to place his hands. At the time, he hated visiting his grandfather every afternoon, but now he made a mental note to thank the man for the time and energy.
"All right I have to ask," Sara grinned, "how did you learn to dance?"
"Papa Olaf taught me," he answered as he twirled them about. Taking in her quizzical stare he added, "My grandfather."
"Really?"
"Yeah. When my junior high had its spring dance, my mom insisted that I needed dance lessons. She didn't want to worry about me stepping on the feet on some poor girl, so I was off to Papa Olaf's every day after school because he knew how to dance. Big hit at weddings, actually.
She chuckled, "I'll bet that was fun."
"Oh yeah," Greg rolled his eyes. "All my classmates were jealous of me as I waltzed in the living room with my grandfather."
"You got beat up for it didn't you?"
"Everyday." He paused for a moment. "But after watching me and my date, every girl wanted to dance with me that night."
Sara tried bite back another chuckle, but didn't succeed. "You had a date?"
"Yes Sara Grissom, hard as it is to believe, I had a date," he began, "She was my mother's friend's daughter. Whom they made go with me. Out of pity. Because I wasn't exactly popular…but Allison Hart was still my date!"
"Okay, okay," she said. "So Allison Hart thought you were graceful."
"Oh yeah. I didn't crush her feet, kept a friendly distance, and didn't try to grope her. Compared to the other baboons at the school, I was a perfect gentleman."
"I certainly can vouch for that. Papa Olaf taught you well."
A little red crept into Greg's face. "Thanks. He always told me dancing with a woman wasn't like picking tomatoes at the grocery store: they shouldn't be pinched, poked, or squeezed."
The current song ended, and some couples left, while others took their places. David now danced with Mrs. Robbins; Catherine shared the floor with Brass. Greg noticed Nick had gotten up from the table, and stood with Sofia, talking. Since no one asked to cut in, he continued on with Sara.
"And I didn't even trip you going up the aisle," he bragged.
"You have no problems on the dance floor, yet you were worried about tripping me, simply walking?"
He huffed sarcastically. "Well, yeah. If I had done something to make you fall, your hubby would've given me every crappy job for the next year. From decomp duty to crawling through sewers to matching a single match stick to thousands of those stupid little books! "
She replied, "You have incredible foresight, Greg."
He stopped their motions to look her straight in the eye for his next statement. "Um, well…thanks…For you know…choosing me."
"Well, you were first to figure us out."
Greg didn't want to upset the delicate balance in his arms, but there was no way he could knock on the door. Not without creating a huge mess. Maybe he could yell for her, but his loud voice might upset the neighbors. What to do, what to do. He looked down trying to figure out how to get into her apartment, when it came to him. Feet! Those appendages were attached for a reason. He started to kick the door with enough force to get her attention.
"Just a second!" She called.
Better be less than a second, he thought. Any longer, and his arms would break from the weight of the bags he carried. Finally Sara opened the door. "Jeez Greg, did you have to bring the whole grocery store?"
After he stepped inside, she gratefully took a few bags from his aching limbs. "Hey I had to make sure we were properly stocked. I got root beer cream soda, tortilla chips and nacho dip, sour cream and onion potato chips, cheesy pizza rolls, and…"he trailed dramatically as he pulled out the last of the junk food, "vanilla ice cream and chocolate chip cookies for ice cream sandwiches."
"Good job. Our arteries will be clogged in no time."
"I try. Oh! And I brought you a present." He handed her a large paper bag with the thin handles.
She pulled out the contents and began to laugh. "I can't believe you got me--"
"Yup. Your very own Sega. Complete with Mortal Kombat and Sonic the Hedgehog. I figured you could use the extra practice, since I beat you every single time."
Sara narrowed her eyes, with her mouth in a straight line. "You just wait Greggo. I'm going kick your sorry little butt in Mortal Kombat."
"Promises, promises."
Greg discovered video games made an excellent diversion after particularly tough cases. He had spent hours in front of the television the day after they closed the burn case from last spring. There was something therapeutic about racing cars through virtual streets, or fighting through desert and water lands to rescue a princess.
After weeks of badgering, pestering, and practically stalking, he'd managed to coax Sara into coming to his apartment for video games. At first she just watched him bounce all over the couch with the controller. Then he offered her a turn, and he snickered a little too loudly when Sonic got killed five seconds into the game. When his left arm stopped throbbing, he showed her how the buttons made the character jump, duck, run, etc. Within a few weeks she became proficient on all his gaming systems, from Sega to PlayStation to Xbox. Now she could put up a fight before her Subzero got his head ripped off in their Mortal Kombat duels.
Sara blinked her eyes in disbelief when she finally looked at his attire. "You're wearing Scooby-Doo pajamas?"
Different expressions of the cartoon dog covered his cotton pants. The dark blue shirt had a single picture of Scooby-Doo grinning widely. "First off, these are lounge pants, not pajamas. And secondly, Scooby-Doo is the greatest, crime-fighting dog ever. And thirdly, I needed something comfy to wear since we're settling in for six hours of the Star Wars trilogy."
"I take it your Darth Vader pants are dirty," she said jokingly.
"Yes," he sighed. "And look at you! You're not ready. Jeans and a blouse are not appropriate for a movie marathon. Go change. C'mon, move it." He started pushing her toward the hallway.
"All right fine," she turned to face him. "But you better have some of that food ready when I come out. And before you ask, I don't need any help undressing." He answered with a "darn it," and she disappeared in the bedroom.
Whistling happily, he started pouring the root beer in the glasses. He was thankful they had arranged to get together, because he hadn't seen much of her outside of work in the last three months. Their video game dates dwindled, and she didn't come to many breakfasts at the diner with Warrick, Nick, and himself. Her behavior had changed too. She no longer showed up at the lab two hours before shift. She also didn't max out on overtime.
Surely she's dating somebody, but whom? Sara had yet to give up the identity of her mystery man, even though he asked her constantly. Maybe the guy was a cop or someone from the lab. No one knew. Greg opened the refrigerator to put the soda away when he saw a stack of agar plates sitting in the back. He took out a couple plates, which had bacterial species on the labels.
There was only one person he knew that would keep experiments at home. Mystery solved.
Whoa. Sara was dating Grissom. Grissom was dating Sara. Definitely strange. He always thought the resident bug expert considered women to be another biological species to be studied. Obviously Grissom considered Sara to mean more if he left his experiments in her apartment.
Despite him collecting blood from new workers and knowing the origin of hot dogs, Grissom was a good guy, who never treated anyone with disrespect, not even suspects. The bossman clearly made her happy. Besides, how he could fault the guy who loved a woman who sometimes smelled like a rotting carcass.
Greg hastily put the agar plates back when he heard Sara walking from her room. She wore Snoopy pants and a Harvard t-shirt. He headed to the couch with the sodas and chips. "You ready to travel to 'a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away?'"
"Now how did you know I knew?
"Every time we'd hang out, you'd always ask about the guy I was seeing. Then that afternoon we watched Star Wars you stopped. I wondered why, especially when left my apartment with a stupid, little smirk on your face. I looked in the 'fridge and some of the plates had been moved. I knew you found them."
"You weren't worried that I'd 'accidentally' say something," he replied.
"No, and for two reasons," she said in that voice when she taught him something at a crime scene. "The first being you knew Gil and I would make your life a living hell if you blabbed. And second, when we would tell everyone, you'd want to brag that you were the first to figure out we were together, which you did."
Half-serious, half teasingly he asked, "And chose me to walk you down the aisle because of that?"
"Greg, I chose you because you stood up to Catherine when I got suspended. Because you invited me over for pizza and video games after we found Nick. And because on the longest, most laborious cases, you can still make me laugh."
He smiled at her statement, and just as he started to lead Sara again, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Grissom standing there. "May I?" he asked the young man, gesturing to his wife.
"Of course." Greg looked back to Sara. "We'll talk later Griss."
"I hate to tell you, but you're not the first to say that to me," she said.
"And I won't be the last."
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TBC