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It was dark in the CSI supervisor's office where Gil Grissom sat alone, spotlighted by the single lamp burning on his desk. The wee hours of the morning were barely upon them and everyone else had headed home, for once almost eager to turn their job over to their dayshift counterparts. That Gil Grissom remained was for once a rare concession to the supervisor's burden of after case follow up paperwork than any true desire to still be on the clock.
It had been a tough case, for everyone.
"I can't take it anymore. You've been sending so many mixed signals...I just don't know what you want from me..."
At the storming entrance, words already preceding Sanders' actual presence, he looked up from Sara`s latest report and frowned slightly. "I beg your pardon?"
"You, Grissom." Facing him over his desk, palms flat and taking most of his weight, Greg demanded harshly. "You."
"Me?" Clueless, it was exactly if they had started this conversation without him. Which, apparently, Greg had.
"You," he nodded, brown eyes regarding Grissom gravely. "What. Do. You. Want. From. Me?" Every word clipped and separated; each syllable defined, he continued on before Gil could speak. "You give me cases noone else could solve, which tells me you at least think I can do my job, and then you drag me off of the Henderson case for dna and fingerprint matches that Hodges could do in his sleep! You growl and then you praise and then you ignore the matches I do find - quite brilliantly too, I might add - and there are nights I have no idea if I should stand my ground or get the hell outta Dodge."
Ah. Now he understood. And it was all Gil could do to sit there and not flinch at the accusations; no few of which were uncomfortably close to being true, only not for the reasons Greg might think. Greg thought Grissom placed no value on his judgment; he had no idea how wrong he was.
The Henderson evidence was a dud, a dead end. Gil had seen that not long after Sara had come in from the field; but as all evidence had to be followed, he let Hodges chase his tail so the Sheriff couldn't bluster and the DA couldn't say they had not investigated every single lead when the case went to trial. While it might have been unfair to Hodges, better to let the newer tech see for himself just how fruitless some leads could turn out. Not every bit of fiber evidence, plant material, or unknown substance samples broke a case and it had served to keep the man out of Grissom's hair for a while.
As for Greg - from what Grissom had read of Greg's report, the matches he had found in his 'brilliant but boring routine investigation' might well have cracked Nick and Warrick's case wide open.
As for the growling and the praise...
"Well...Vegas, at least."
Ah Greg, the fond smile was purely mental. If you only knew, my boy, you would run screaming for the hills and not let them stop you. The rumination was also purely mental, but the thought tilted his head just a bit, giving the impression many had seen on a case; as if he were studying a particularly fascinating bit of evidence or some special type of rare insect.
Because Greg was rare; he was `special'. Down past the strange tshirts and behavior that was meant to shock and skate just on the edge of acceptable for work. Down past the experimental hair and expectedly wild and sometimes tasteless music, Greg was special.
Like the matches he had found, brilliant, if slightly eccentric. Easy to overlook.
Grissom wondered if he would be shocked that, not only did the older man
know most of the songs Greg listened to, but rather enjoyed them as well. Well, he amended, watching some of the confidence and belligerence drain from the lab tech's stance as he continued to watch him. Some of them aren't half bad. Rage Against the Machine or Lunatic Clam... Gil allowed himself an ironic mental grin. `I wanna take you on a roller coaster`... how fitting.
Greg wasn't the only one who had somewhat eclectic tastes. And never let it be said that Gil Grissom was too old to learn form his surroundings.
"What makes you think I want anything from you, Greg?" Calm, controlled;
everyday conversation. Lips pursed in was what almost a smile as Grissom realized with mild guilt that he was toying with the younger man. The eyes were a little wary now, his posture more uncertain, not as 'fight' as before; Gil could see by his face Greg wasn't even picking up half of the nuances hanging in the air around this conversation.
In short, Gruesome Grissom was acting just a little weirder than normal and Greg didn't know why.
Mixed signals indeed.
And it was unfair, Grissom decided. Just because he was lonely and Greg had burst in here all confident and confrontational, no need to let slip the fact that what Grissom actually wanted from him was a nice big bed, human contact and sweaty sheets. Breakfast afterward. Lazy Sunday snuggles on the couch working crossword puzzles in their sock feet or dancing to the radio and candlelight.
No, he would definitely not be admitting to any of that.
"Greg?" He could see the question broke Sanders out of his own thoughts; what he hadn't seen was that Greg had been studying him as closely as Grissom had been studying Greg. "I'm waiting."
If Grissom was startled by the sudden knowledge that lit out from the dark eyes, or the wolfish grin suddenly stretching the tech's mouth to barely show teeth, it never altered his facial features. Though his heart did drop a foot or two at the feral light now pinning him to his seat.
"So am I, Grissom. So am I." A push and he was off the large desk, free standing in the middle of the crowded CSI's office amidst bugs, spiders, and all manner of jars and journals that just shouted `Dull Bug Guy`.
They didn't know how wrong they were.
"And now that I know what it is you ...want... from me," the knowing grin was accentuated by the familiar ducking of the shaggy blond head, though the eyes never left him, "You know where to find me."
With that Sanders turned and left, leaving Gil to stare at the retreating back in shock. Wondering just when the tables had turned...
...and what, if anything, he was going to do about it.
end