Hey all, I finally got through some nasty writers' block. This chapter was all formed in my head, but I just couldn't get it onto paper. It just keeps getting more and more comical. I love it. Writers' block aside, this chapter has been the best one to write, and I think that the title is terribly clever. I hope you like it!

Take My Hand

Chapter 5: A First-Date Disaster

Saturday came, and Casey was beginning to regret her moment of weakness. Under normal circumstances, she was the stubborn one. She never usually gave in to guys' requests on the spot. But Greg somehow invalidated her usual attitude like negative numbers canceled out positive ones.

Sara and Grissom were both gone that Saturday, which was good for her. She was hoping to avoid any awkward questions, but at the same time, she wished Sara had asked who her date was. She wished that someone had asked what she was doing.

She heard a car pull up in the driveway and looked out the window. It was Greg. She gathered her purse and nearly tripped over herself as she ran out the door. As she got in his car, she realized that he had dressed up for the occasion. He was wearing a creamy white shirt and a dark-colored tie. His hair looked as if he had done more than simply take a comb to it. She could smell his cologne; it was subtle and seemingly just right for him. The effort he had put into his appearance made her smile.

"Hey." He greeted as soon as she was seated.

"Hey yourself. You look nice," she replied.

"Thanks."

"So, where are we going?" She was nonplussed by the fact that he had not returned her compliment. She thought that she looked terrible. Her hair had turned out frizzy and her makeup was a little splotchy because it was the wrong color. Still, a little part of her wished he had said something in return.

"You'll see," he replied slyly.

So that was his game. "Not even a hint?" She teased him as he revved up the engine.

"Actually, I have two hints for you. One, it's a restaurant. Two, I hope you like tomatoes and garlic butter." He grinned as he began to drive away from the house.

Greg could barely believe his luck. The girl of his dreams was sitting next to him and he was about to take her out to her favorite restaurant, Olive Garden. He could barely speak; his mouth was too dry. However, she did not appear to be in a loquacious mood, either. Neither of them had said a word since their initial chatter.

He admitted to himself that she looked gorgeous, but he simply could not get the words out to let her know. Her long, red hair was plaited in a way he had never seen done before, except by some girls he had once seen at prom. She was wearing an ocean-blue top and a black skirt with a little bow at the waist. She looked…elegant.

He found himself daydreaming about how the date was going to go as he pulled up in the parking lot. He heard her squeal of happiness and knew that he was doing the right thing by taking her out to dinner. He prayed that she would enjoy it. Hopefully, everything was going to go well and as he had planned.

Casey liked the fact that Greg had picked Olive Garden. She did not know if he knew it was her favorite restaurant, but she was willing to bet that he had asked someone for more information on her if he did. Still, she was quietly fuming inside about being tricked into this whole situation. She liked Greg, as a friend, and she could not even consider anything else at the moment. She would not let any other possibilities for the two of them enter her mind.

They were seated quickly and the waiter, Stephen, came and took their order. Casey ordered her favorite, the chicken parmigana, almost as soon as he asked. Greg took a little longer to figure his order out, but settled on the chicken marsala. They both dug in when the salad and breadsticks arrived.

"So…" Greg began nervously, clearing his throat. Casey chose not to respond. She halfheartedly listened as he told her about a new horror movie he had been to see. She was so busy noticing his physical features to hear anything he said. His hair was intriguing, and his lips…well, they took all her attention. She noticed, not necessarily for the first time, that he was very good looking.

"…and then the ghost comes out and kills everything. Have you seen it?" He finished.

"Um, no, I don't get to see movies much anymore, and don't you think we get enough horror at work?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, true, we do. But I like it. It's kind of funny when the psychos and the chainsaw murderers get away, because then we get to catch them."

"I don't think it's funny." She shuddered. "Horror drives me nuts. I'll take the suspense and creepy, crazy things happening to nice little families, but I'll pass on the blood, guts, and gore."

"What about chick flicks?"

She was quite sure that was his ultimate question, and had to think for a few moments before answering. "Well, there are a few good ones out there. Some of them bug me, but I am a hopeless romantic, so I love them…even when they all seem to follow the same plotline. I actually would rather see action-adventure or sci-fi than chick flicks."

Greg had gotten her right where he wanted her. "So, do you love romance?" He was pleased to watch the red flush rise slowly in her cheeks.

"Yes, I do."

"Actually, I do, too."

She laughed. "Yeah, right, I believe that," she retorted sarcastically. "All the guys that I know won't be caught dead watching that kind of stuff."

"I like the comedic romance. I'll pay good money to see it if it's funny and romantic."

"What kind of funny?"

Her question caught him off-guard. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, do you like the raunchy kind of humor, the accidental kind of humor, or will you laugh at anything?" She seemed so serious that he almost laughed at the irony of it all.

"I guess I laugh at just about everything," Greg finally answered

"Why?"

"Some situations are just really funny, others are awkward and you laugh just to break the tension that you feel about it."

She sighed. "You have a very good sense of humor. But what do you think about romance and love?"

"What?" Again, her question caught him unprepared.

"Do you buy out to the Hollywood hype of love or do you think that there is real love, where people have to struggle and work together to make things work right and relationships don't just fall into place perfectly?"

Her ideas blew him away. He had dated smart girls before, but she was…wise. That was the only word he could use to describe her. She had wisdom beyond her years, and it made her all the more attractive to him. "Yeah, I do believe that real love and romance exists. You have to look for it, but sometimes, I think it does come to you like they show on the big screen."

His comment made her blush all the more. "I wish I still did." She looked wistful as she muttered it under her breath.

"Why don't you anymore?"

She hastily changed the subject to music, but Greg filed away his question to ask her some other time.

On the outside, Casey smiled as Greg discussed the finer points of heavy metal bands, most of which she had never heard before. She could tell he loved that genre of music.

On the inside, she berated herself for setting herself up for his question. She was sure that she had not successfully deflected him from that subject.

"…and that's why I think they are the greatest band to ever have existed," he finished. "What do you listen to?"

"There's a lot of different things: classic rock, pop, a teeny bit of country, some jazz." She cocked an eyebrow as he let out a snort. "What? Do you find something about what I listen to funny?"

"No…but I never had you pegged as a classic rock kind of girl. Rap, maybe, but not rock."

"Ew." She crinkled her nose. "I always say that you can't spell crap without rap. Any sane lover of music would denounce most rap as a poor excuse passing for music and a waste of air time on all radio stations. I will listen to anything at all over rap."

"Classical?"

"Duh, give me Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart over Eminem and his cronies any day."

"Even opera?" He grinned.

"If I need a nap and nothing else but rap is there, yes."

They both laughed. "So opera puts you to sleep?" He inquired.

"Only if I'm really tired. I sort of enjoy it. I love musicals more, though."

He looked around as his stomach growled. They had gone through two bowls of salad and three baskets of breadsticks. Why his stomach was growling, she could hardly fathom. "Wonder where our food is?"

"You ask too many questions." She shook her head.

"I'm a CSI. It's my job to ask questions," he stated proudly.

The waiter came up to their table with their food. Suddenly, he tripped, and the platter of chicken parmigana flew straight at Greg. Time seemingly slowed for those few seconds, then the red sauce, spaghetti noodles, and breaded chicken collided into Greg. She could hear the other restaurant patrons gasping and the waiter apologizing profusely, but nothing really entered her brain other than the look of total shock and embarrassment on Greg's face.

Casey wanted to laugh; he looked adorable, even with noodles hanging limply in his hair and red sauce dripping down his neck. However, the look on his face kept her from her laughter.

Greg felt heat rising up as the waiter apologized. He thought it might have been because the sauce was hotter than Hades, but he was fairly certain it was because he was burning with embarrassment.

He looked across the table at Casey. She looked as though she was trying to suppress a laugh. It made him all the more upset, all the more embarrassed. He could not even hear the waiter's frantic apologies or the shocked gasps coming from observers. He was fuming now.

This was not part of his plan.

A/N: Well, it's done. Hope you laughed. I know I cracked up when I thought of it. And, as a bit of practical advice, never wear a white shirt to an Italian restaurant. You never know what may happen!