must be G/S
1. Must include the line "Who knew coveralls could be so sexy,"
2. One must be wearing nothing under the overalls and state their reason for doing so,
3. The conversation must include a "trout"
4.They must be working on a vehicle
5. They have nothing on under the coverall
6.Grissomand Sara must do something "inappropriate"
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI
"Oww!"
"Sorry!"
"That doesn't go there!"
"Jeez, I said I was sorry!"
"What's going on in here?" Grissom stood in the doorway of the CSI garage with an appauling look on his face.
"Nothing!" Greg said.
"Nothing my ass! Grissom, he hit me with a pipe!"
"Greg?"
"Yes, boss?" Greg glared at Sara who crossed her arms and glared back. He turned back to Grissom with puppy dog eyes.
"I beleive that you were just about to head down to the morgue to help Catherine with the new decomp case in my place?"
Greg's jaw dropped, "Awwwwww, man!" He stomped out of the room. Sara shot Grissom a huge thankful grin.
"Where did he hit you?" Grissom said, walking towards her.
"On my head." She stated and he leant down to kiss it.
"And my forehead," he kissed that too.
"And my nose, and my lips," Grissom laughed, standing back from her and looking down the hall way.
"I don't beleive I can make you feel better here, Miss Sidle."
"But doctor, I'm hurt!" She smiled up at him and he took a step back.
Grissom smirked at her.
She smirked back saying, "Then I'm going down to the morgue to see my dead body."
"Bye," he nodded and walked off.
Sara made her way through the hallways and was just about to go through the morgue doors when she was greated by Greg.
Greg looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock as Sara yelled his name so loud that the whole lab must have heard it.
"What happened?" Doc Robbins was heading down the hall. Sara was holding her hands away from her sides and slowly turned towards him. He tried not to laugh as he saw a red faced Greg and Sara's front side covered in what remained of the liquid decomp.
"I think you might need a shower," Robbins commented as he smelt Sara from down the hall.
Grissom was heading down the hall when he heard a very frustrated growl from the garage. Smelling the air, he looked up.
Sara glared at the machine, only to spin and glare at him when he commented, "What smells like trout, vomit, and a hint of lemon?"
"The trout and vomit are from me, and the lemon also from me."
"Why?"
"Greg, the same one who knocked me over the head this morning, managed to coat me with his decomp, and then, I only had about two lemons in my locker to try and mask the smell, but it seemed to only add to the nauseau that is the smell of me!"
Grissom pursed his lips in amusement.
"This is NOT funny! Why does everyone keep laughing?!" She looked at him appaulingly.
"Now, now, control your temper," he chided, moving into the garage, "Why are you hitting the car?"
"It won't give me anything to work with," she sulked.
He was about to say something when Nick walked by. Stopping at the door he whistled, "Damn, who knew jumpsuits could be so sexy. Whoo," his smile went from ear to ear.
Sara's glare turned towards him and she stepped closer to him. His face contorted as he commented, "Now if only you could stop bathing in the rotten fish."
Sara opened her mouth to tell him off when Grissom came in from behind them, "Now, children, play fair, we have work to do."
Sara backed off as Nick smiled again and turned towards the breakroom.
Sara turned towards Grissom, "You're not going to do anything, are you?"
Looking down the hall to make sure that no one was there he smiled slightly, "I agree with Nick."
Sara's jaw dropped, "Even about the smell?!"
"Hmm, no I don't mind the smell, it's the jumpsuit that does it."
She pursed her lips in amusement, moving around the car.
"Griss, can you come help me with this?" She called sweetly.
Grissom sauntered around the car to find Sara with the zipper of the jumpsuit down to her waist.
"Sara, wh, where are you're clothes?!" He whispered tensly.
"I don't have anything with me, and my other ones smelled, so I had to just put on the jumpsuit, and nothing else," she shrugged and he felt himself react.
"Nothing?" his eyes were like plates.
Sara shook her head. Grissom walked closer to her so that she was only a hairs width away.
"Then what's the problem?" He whispered.
She leaned so that his ear was next to her mouth, "The zipper is stuck."
Without time to move away, Grissom grabbed her hips and brought them directly to his, kissing her neck lavishly.
Sara began to grind her hips against him as her arms went around his neck. Grissom stopped kissing her neck, and turned his head so that their lips were on each other, sucking each other's tongues.
One of Grissom's hands snaked into her open jumpsuit to gently massage her breast. She moaned lightly into his mouth, making him even more aroused. His hand slowly worked it's way down to find that, indeed, she was wearing nothing underneath the jumpsuit. She pressed into him harder as his hand caressed her. They broke apart slighlty for breath, Sara kept moving her hips against his hand.
Grissom stopped and stepped back, looking around the truck and causing Sara to whimper slightly.
Turning back to her, he could only think of one reason not to do this here, privacy.
Leaning into her, he gave her one last passionate kiss before moving away, whispering, "My office, two minutes, don't be late." Like the wind he was gone, and Sara zipped up her jumpsuit thinking that this would be the longest two minutes of her life.