Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. Or Calvin and Hobbes.
AN: I'm pretty sure I just screwed up any hope of a timeline that makes sense. Joys.
"Please tell me we're here for something besides turtle food."
I turn away from the shelf so that I can smirk at Nick. I should probably be a bit nicer, considering that he gave up one of his days off to help me out.
It took some convincing, but he finally agreed to accompany me to a pet store. He still doesn't know why I need him here, but he'll find that out soon enough.
"Just be patient, Nick."
He glowers at me, which I ignore in favor of looking for the correct brand of turtle food. Greg's 'girlfriend' is nearly out, and since I was going to be here anyways, I offered to get some.
I've been offering to do a lot of stuff for Greg lately.
Probably because for the past two weeks, a sense of overwhelming relief has guided my actions towards him.
I told him about my family, the short periods of time I spent living on the streets, the murder, and foster care. Not extremely detailed, but detailed enough to scare away several shrinks.
And all that's changed is that I no longer have to keep any real secrets from my best friend.
He's still my best friend. It'll take a while for me to stop grinning every time I think that.
"Sara… could we pick up the pace just a little bit?"
I shake myself out of my euphoric mood and snatch up the found turtle food.
"Right. Now on to the fun part."
"There's actually a fun part?"
Nick looks incredulous. I think he's already forgotten that he agreed to come here with me.
"Yes, there's a fun part. You haven't gotten a birthday present for Greg yet, have you?"
His eyes light up as he realizes what our second mission is. "No… what do you have in mind, Sara?"
I grin and drag him over to where they keep all the furry little mammals. I point at a little golden retriever puppy that's running all around his crate, attempting to nudge awake his siblings.
"He looks promising, right?"
Nick's eyes are softer than I've ever seen them, and he kneels down next to the crate, looking at the puppy.
Said puppy crashes into the crate in his eagerness to say hello. Nick laughs, which causes the adorable little thing to bite him.
"Ouch! Hey!"
I roll my eyes and join him on the floor, petting the puppy, who seems quite pleased with himself. He greets me happily enough, though he's slightly more subdued than the last time I saw him.
Nick stands back, glaring at the small teeth marks in his finger.
"We're getting Greg that?"
"Aww, come on, Nick. He's cute! Just a minute ago you were looking at him as if he were your newborn child!"
His glare switches to me, and I stare innocently back. We hold the gaze for a few moments before he looks away.
Then he sighs and holds out his hand to the puppy.
"Truce? You can't very well live at my buddy's place unless you're willing to deal with me, after all."
The puppy sniffs his hand for a moment before licking it enthusiastically. I smile as Nick tries to pet him through the bars.
"So… does this terror have a name yet?"
"Yeah. According to the nice lady at the counter, his name is Hobbes."
"'Hobbes'? As in, Hobbes the tiger?"
"Right."
Nick shakes his head. "Greggo's going to have his hands full with this."
"Nope. His veterinarian 'girlfriend' agreed to help out. She thinks Hobbes is cute."
"Yet I get the feeling that she won't be the one watching the menace until his master's birthday party tomorrow."
He's glaring at me again, obviously having figured out why he's come along for this little excursion.
"Yes, well, I don't have tonight off. And you have a while to get used to the idea. It's going to take a while to gather up everything else we need. Collar, leash, bed, food… toys."
He looks back at the puppy, who is desperately trying to reach his shoelaces through the bars. He sighs despairingly at the cute image.
"Fine, but next year I'm seriously checking out that fantasy place."
"So, Sara, what have you got planned for me tomorrow night?"
I slam my locker open, rolling my eyes at Greg's greeting for tonight. "You could at least say hi, you know."
"Will there be a cake?"
"There's a possibility of food, yes."
"Alcohol?"
"You stole all of mine, remember?"
He did take all of the alcohol out of my house. He told me that while I didn't have an alcohol problem, I did have problems that I tended to cover up with alcohol way too often.
After I told him about everything, he decided that we needed to find a new method for winding down. It's a bit annoying, but it's kind of nice to have someone worrying about my well being.
"What did you get me?"
"That would be a secret, Greggo."
"You didn't get me a remote controlled car again, did you? That didn't really end well last year."
"What, you don't like fireworks on your birthday?"
"Sara! Give me a hint, please!"
I'm about to respond when someone else storms into the locker room, destroying the friendly atmosphere as they slam the door shut.
Oh.
My.
God.
My eyes widen. I can't be dead, because I would definitely go to Hell in that case, and this is anything else.
Though it is rather hot in the room, now that I think about it.
Standing before her locker is an extremely pissed off Catherine Willows.
Removing what must be the most revealing dress I've ever seen on her. Excluding the times I've caught her changing before, I have never gotten such an eyeful of her cleavage and backside.
I audibly gulp when I realize the sweat is dripping down her breast bone, and my eyes are following its path.
"Uh… Cath?"
She turns and sends a fiery glare at me, making my face heat up dangerously.
For a moment I fantasize about what it would be like slamming her up against her locker and removing that dress- tasting the sweat off her flushed skin as I slowly take her.
"What?"
Torn out of my daydream, I am left staring mindlessly at her.
I clear my throat nervously, praying to whatever higher being that will listen that she doesn't know what I was just thinking.
"Um… are, uh, you okay?"
"No, Sara, I'm not okay. I just got torn away from my date because that bitch called and told me that she thinks another body from our serial has shown up!"
I'm pretty sure she's talking about the FBI agent. Since Grissom's using kid gloves with Greg and I, we've only run into her once. She didn't seem too bad, but then again, I'm not working with her.
"Oh."
"Yes, 'oh'. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to get myself changed!"
As she says those words, my brain finally notices that she's still removing her dress, and isn't wearing a bra.
Going completely crimson, I reach behind me for Greg's arm and dash out of the room.
Once we're out, I let go of him and collapse against a wall. Greg is still wiping off drool.
"Wow," he finally manages.
"Yeah," I agree.
"There are some definite pluses to her dating Max, I'm thinking."
I just nod along, a bit too stunned to do anything else. We both just sit for a second, trying to figure out what higher being to thank or curse. Then Greg turns to look at me, an awed expression on his face.
"We need to buy that FBI girl some flowers."