How to handle a crying CSI wannabe
Author: Daniela
Fandom: CSI:Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/Grissom
Rating: PG
Category: Angst, Humor
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimers: CSI and its characters belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS broadcasting company. The author makes no profit and no infringement is intended.
Summary: Missing Scene from "Bloodlines", Grissom has his hands full
Warnings: Slash, M/M, Spoilers from "Bloodlines"
Feedback: Yes, please. I will appreciate all constructive criticism.
Email: daniforblue@yahoo.de
Released: June 2004
Note: Many thanks to my new and very nice beta reader: Erika
Website: http://www.belovedtigersharks.de/
How To Handle A Crying CSI Wannabe
by Daniela
Late at night, Grissom strolled through the lab, checking on every detail. It was only an hour ago that he had driven Sara home. She had been caught by the state troopers because she was driving while she was intoxicated. He had assumed everyone had gone home, so he was surprised to find Greg still sitting at his desk.
"What are you doing here? The caseīs closed. You are finished with work for today."
Greg didnīt respond; he only made sniffing sounds. Just then, Grissom noticed Gregīs pale face. More than that, the young lab tech was visibly close to tears.
Confused, Grissom asked: "Whatīs wrong?"
Again, no answer. To Grissomīs surprise, a tear was trickling down Gregīs cheek. Concerned, Grissom moved closer.
While patting Gregīs arm, he tried for a third time. "Greg?"
More sniffing sounds were the answer.
Grissom became impatient. "Greg, tell me what happened, now!"
Greg opened his mouth, obviously trying to talk. But no words came out, instead another tear ran down his face.
Perplexed, Grissom stared at him. Greg started to sob. Grissomīs tone became shrill... "In Heavenīs name, what is wrong?"
Greg raised his head, his tearstained eyes were meeting Grissomīs grim look.
"Is it my fault?"
"What, in Godīs name?" Grissom was angry.
"Did Todd Coombs kill the girl because of me? Because I messed up the DNA samples?"
Grissomīs anger melted away.
"No, Greg. Certainly not. Who gave you that idea?"
Greg wasnīt able to tell him, not to mention stop crying. For a second, Grissom eyed him undecided, then he pulled him up to his feet. Wrapping his arms around Greg, he hugged him dearly, comforting him. Trustingly, the young man clung to him and wailed into his sweater. Grissom stroked Greg's hair soothingly. After a couple of minutes, Greg had calmed down, but he didnīt let go of Grissom just yet.
"Hodges," he mumbled.
"Hodges gave you the idea? And you believed him? You know..."
"Oh, isnīt that sweet?" A familiar sarcastic voice made Grissom jump away from Greg and turn around.
Hodges was leaning in the door and leered. "Caught in the act."
Grissom needed a moment to react, then he ordered:
"To my office. We have to talk."
"Certainly, boss," Hodges agreed, not in the slightest intimidated. Before he left, he winked playfully at the gaping Greg.
"Did you tell Sanders that he was responsible for the girlīs death?" Grissom started angrily.
Hodges shrugged his shoulders. "I only mentioned that if the DNA from the suspect would have been a match to the sperm sample found on the victimīs body, she still might have not died."
Grissom couldnīt believe his ears. "Are you out of your mind? That isnīt funny. You know, he takes everything to heart..."
Hodgesī smile made him stop. "What?"
"I always knew that heīs your favorite lab boy, but now Iīm wondering..."
Grissom interrupted him angrily. "Listen carefully. Stop bothering Greg, or otherwise..."
"Yes?"
"Youīll leave town. Understood?"
Hodges chuckled. "Sure, boss."
"One more thing. What you saw today stays between you, me and Greg. Do I make myself clear?"
Hodges nodded.
"Go," Grissom snarled.
Now alone, he shook his head. What a mess. It would have been better to drive home immediately after tucking Sara in bed.
*
The next day, Grissom realized pretty quickly, Hodges hadnīt kept his mouth shut. Catherine was the first. Without reason, she came to his office, asking straightforward: "Is Greg alright?"
"What? Why? I didnīt see him today."
"Just checking. He looks a bit pale, so I was wondering..."
"Ask him, not me," Gil snapped.
"Oh, I certainly will."
Catching her sudden grin before she left made it obvious to him: She knew. Grissom sighed. This is just great.
*
One hour later, he caught Nick and Warrick whispering and sniggering behind his back. Every time he turned to them, they stopped, showing him a straight face. Shortly, he had enough of their childish behavior, leaving them alone to their simple joy. After catching many more amused glances, he fled to Dr. Robbins in the morgue.
Mumbling angrily under his breath, he was under the impression to find some peace of mind there. He couldnīt be more wrong.
The down-to-earth doctor greeted him with a big cheering smile. "Well, Gil, Iīm happy to see you. First, I have to say, I was mistaken when it came to you."
Grissom frowned. "Yes?"
"I would never have believed, that a humorless man like you would ever get it on with a funny boy like Greg."
Swearing, Grissom whirled around and rushed out, still hearing the doctorīs laughter. Thank God Sara wasnīt here today to bother him too. He really couldnīt bear that. But it was a small comfort.
*
Grissom finally exploded when even Brass gave him the message: "You could have told me, you know. I have no problem with you and Sanders together. He is a cute..."
"For Godīs Sake, I was only comforting him. There is nothing going on between us. Nothing. OK?!"
Watching the shouting Grissom, Brass stayed calm, showing him an amused smile. "If you say so."
The face red with anger, Grissom grumbled on.
*
One hour later, he went to his car to drive home. His paperwork was still unfinished, but he couldn't concentrate. He had enough of being the laughing stock for everyone. Anyhow, he didnīt regret to comforting Greg. His sorrow had affected him deeply. He was such a sensitive guy. It would be very hard for him to be out in the field every day. Presumably, sooner or later he would lose his touching innocence. What a shame.
A figure appeared from the dark, almost colliding with him. David, the assistant from the morgue. "Hello, Grissom," he mumbled shyly, beaming at him. "Isnīt it a coincidence we met here. For hours, I wanted to talk to you about Greg..."
Fleeing to his car, Grissom left him talking to himself.
Once home, he threw the keys on the table and hung up his jacket. "Honey, Iīm home," he announced sarcastically.
"So soon," his love answered from the kitchen. "Did you have a particularly difficult day today?"
"Whaddyathink? Hodges must have been on the phone the whole night."
"Iīm sorry." Greg was entering the living room.
"No more apologizing and - no more crying," Gil scolded him. "And promise me, it will never happen in the field."
Greg grinned like a rascal. "Why? Now I know I can always find comfort in the arms of my supervisor."
"Donīt you dare."
"But Gil..."
"You wonīt."
"Honey..."
"Iīm not joking."
"All right. Maybe Nick would..."
"Over my dead body," Gil snarled. Placating, Greg snuggled into his arms.
"Would you like to comfort me now, my dearest supervisor?"
"Only if you promise me to behave, my favorite lab boy."
end