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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-04
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Tonight

Summary:

no summary

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Title: Tonight
Author: Saryn

Disclaimer: For the love of god?no I don't own them!! Well, I own WP in my mind?ok?we are getting off this train of thought quickly!

Authors notes: after the angst-fest that was "Growth" and "Off", I thought we'd lighten things up. But "no" you say? "We want more angst", you holler? I have an idea?why don't you guys e-mail me any `challenges' that you have, and I'll do my best! (Grin) Oh...but I should warn you in advance?I don't write/ read NC-17 (R is my limit...except in very rare cases).

 

Tonight
by Saryn

 

He smoothed his hair, and straightened his tie. And brushed away the tears that he felt slipping down his cheeks.

Hopefully, no one would notice. He sighed ? pitifully ? it was Christmas Eve, for heaven's sakes, and he was crying like a wimp in the lab.

Before closing the envelope back up, he took one last look at the cheery red and green X-mas card from his `folks' in Los Angeles.

`To our beloved Gregory?we miss you dearly honey! We think of you all the time, and hope you enjoy your first Christmas in your new house. Hugs, kisses, and much love?Mom and Bill.'

Greg Sanders felt a lump form in his throat, and sealed up the card. After he had re-licked it (not before pulling out the gift certificate to a&b sound), he stashed it under a mound of assay test scores on his desk.

A tinkling of bells was heard, and he shook his head ? as if it was fogged. They were playing Christmas music? How'd the gang get around to doing that? Grissom would have a fit if he heard it?

Sauntering down the halls, in the direction of where "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" was being sung?he poked his head past the glass door.

Nick Stokes, along with Catherine Willows, was belting out very INCORRECT lyrics, and was he?yes?he was?flirting with Sara! Greg unconsciously scowled at the male CSI, who must have felt eyes on him?for his head snapped up instantaneously.

"Greggo?come?have a drink?have a s'more?share a laugh with Sarsy!"

The two must have been drunk out of their gourds.

"Sarsy?" Sara looked up with a goofy grin. She WAS smashed. "My old childhood nickname?"

Greg stood awkwardly by the door. They were discussing their pasts?when they were drunk?

Jeez?that wasn't too bright now, was it?

"Um?I'm allergic to alcohol?I have sulfite based allergies?" He knew he sounded like a geek, but it was true.

Warrick, who hadn't reached the same state of inebriation, laughed like a hyena. *Ok*, Greg retracted *maybe he is just as drunk?man?did someone spike the punch?*

"You are allergic to alcohol? That's too funny?I'd never picture you being the one to turn down a nightcap?" Warrick again.

"Try me. Try punching my stuff?and my heart rate will shoot up through the roof, and I'll go into shock within five minutes" He did not grin. He didn't want to go to the ER on Christmas Eve ? just because his colleagues had tried to pull a practical joke.

Warrick stopped laughing. "No shit? Okay?man?relax?.Nick stole your coffee junk...I'm sure some of that is perking?"

Greg laughed. "Oh?you are but too kind."

At his words, Sara looked up sharply. She was slightly drunk, yes, but she knew Greg Sanders ? and this didn't sound like Greg Sanders. This person sounded serious, and bitter, and cautious?the complete
antithesis of everything Greg was, or seemed to be.

In a gesture of friendship, she handed over her melted s'more. He took it gingerly, appreciatively, giving her a slight smile.

"Thanks?Sara. Oh?what's up with `Sarsy'?"

*******

He had never heard Sara Sidle ramble before. It wasn't unpleasant. It was nice?it took his mind off the holidays, so it replaced the position of alcoholic beverages?

"I was a terror?and?"

He realized he was staring at her sweater. She did not seem to notice, so he kept staring. It was not exactly festive, but it was a very good attempt. It was a green angora, or cashmere, perhaps. He was not exactly a `sweater' type of guy. Its colour was of pine needles.

He looked around, not really bored, but exhausted. A small, fake, plastic evergreen was standing in the middle of the room. It was decked out in green and blue tinsel, strung popcorn and cranberries, flashing purple, red, yellow, and green lights, and blue and silver glass baubles. The works ? and it clashed. To its left, a table (he recognized it as one of the lunch tables), had chips, dip, and salsa in tiny bowls. Eggnog with cinnamon and nutmeg rested in a punch bowl.

He held up a finger, and Sara paused.

"Sorry to interrupt?gonna get a drink?be right back?"

*Ok. So? that was rude.*

He almost didn't care, and Sara didn't seem to mind, so he let it slip.

Sighing once more as the other corner of the room erupted in raucous laughter, he spoke aloud.

"Is EVERYONE plastered?"

"Apparently not?" He looked up to see the face of his boss ? his supervisor. Gil Grissom.

He sighed again. "Is there any alcohol in this, Gris?"

"Are you the designated driver, Greg?". Grissom eyed him suspiciously.

Greg fiddled with his red and green striped tie. "Not that I know of?"

Grissom nodded, both in understanding?and to answer Greg's question.

"Yeah?rum?"

"Great?", he answered sarcastically.

"You don't drink alcohol?", Grissom was looking at Greg Sanders with a look of respect. Greg almost hated to shatter the guys one positive idea about what, or who, Greg was as a person.

"I'm allergic?so?no?I'm still not as responsible as you might have thought I *WAS*"

Grissom heard the pain in that statement?and the anger, and felt himself startle. His mouth was slightly agape, and Greg smiled at the unfamiliar position they were both now in?

*******

His head sank back onto the leather chair. Someone had dragged it into the lounge?from God knew where?

*But it's SOO comfortable?*

His fatigue overtook him, and he closed his eyes, just slightly.

That felt nice. The lights, the sounds?everything started to feel?softer. Until it faded. He could hear a stupid song about chestnuts and roasts on fire?or something along those lines?but he was just?so?
sleepy.

***********

"Quiet?don't wake him up!"

Sara was trying to keep the volume down. Greg looked so peaceful?so serene. If they weren't careful?

"Geesh, Sara?it's only 9:00. Isn't it a little early for him to nod off?"

"He's tired?"

"From listening to Black Flag?", Grissom asked with a quirky grin.

"From working intently, and diligently?while, perhaps?listening to Black Flag", she clarified.

Catherine hopped down off the larger couch. All truth be told, Nick and Warrick looked like they could use some sleep, themselves.

"C'mon?are you guys all so tired that you don't want to open your presents?", Catherine asked with a smile.

Sara shot up quickly. "I'm not!", she practically yelled. Always the energetic one?

"Quiet?baby's sleeping", Nick drunkenly mumbled, while both Cath and Sara gave him a look of irritation.

"Baby needs his beauty sleep", Warrick added. And started laughing.

Greg started to stir, and swiped at his eyes with his fist.

"You woke baby up?", Nick whispered to Warrick. This set them off on a giggle-fest, which sounded very strange ? coming from two, (normally) serious grown men.

Catherine shook her head, and patted Greg on the shoulder. "Welcome to the land of the living, Little Nemo?ya ready to open presents!?"

He gave her a look of confusion?"Little Ne-?"

He was cut off by Warrick's laughing. "Baby Nemo!"

Nick was now laughing so hard, that his face had turned bright red.

"Don't forget to breathe Nick?" Sara added, dryly.

"It's not funny anymore, guys?its stale." Grissom's somber voice cut through the sound of wheezing, and the wheezing turned to chocking. Nick couldn't take Grissom's seriousness ? not in his drunken state. It set him off anew.

Nick was gagging on his hot dog, and yet, he still seemed to be laughing. His chest kept rising up and down in the proper manner for someone who was chuckling, and yet, he pointed to his throat, indicating that something was wrong.

Warrick ? unexpectedly - hit him in the chest ? hard, but dislodged what had been stuck.

"That's disgusting?", Cath grimaced.

"No?its karma?he shouldn't have been eating meat", Sara grinned.

The chocking turned back to wheezing?that had since turned to wailing.

"Aww my god man?did you have to hit me that hard? I think ya broke my rib!"

Nick then proceeded to lift up his shirt, to show the spreading black bruise to everyone.

Catherine grinned. "Stop Nick?you are making the ladies in the room blush?"

Nick smiled, and slurred, "Nah?Sara's already seen me without my clothes on?", he said, his thoughts floating to a past event, when she had stumbled into the locker room while he had been changing. She
had referred to his t-shirt as `hideous', he recalled.

Grissoms eyes grew wide, and he almost spurted his drink.

"Relax boss?Nick's a flirt. Sara stumbled into the locker room when he was getting changed once?that's it?well?I THINK that's it?.", Warrick recapped, before eyeing the pair humorously.

Four pairs of eyes turned to stare, with interest, at Nick and Sara. One of these pairs seemed to bore holes into the head of Nick Stokes.

Sara rolled her eyes. "Of COURSE that's it?", she groaned.

Nick laughed yet again, and batted his eyes at her ? enjoying the fact that she was flustered ? over him, no less. Grissom's reactions were just an added bonus.

Sara swallowed, aware of the stress that was accumulating in Grissom. His jaw had clenched, and he stood rigidly. She decided to change the subject.

"That looks horrible, Nick?are sure you are okay?" Sara had run over to her friend, and was lightly fingering the bruise. By this time, they were all wondering if Warrick had not, indeed, broken a rib.

"Well?he's alive. He should be grateful", Greg retorted swiftly. He had meant it as a joke, but it had come off as a disinterested, if not acrid, remark.

*******

Alcohol and Nick Stokes did not mix well. Even after Warrick started to sober up, Nicky was still very?drunk.

"One potato?two potato?three potato?four?", he chanted, before chucking a glittery gold and red package with cartoon elves painted on the ribbon, at Sara's head.

She took it graciously, and eagerly unwrapped it.

"Five potato?six potato?seven potato?. more?", he had resumed his chanting, and paused momentarily, while Warrick hollered, "Incoming!"

A package was thrown in Grissom's direction. Grissom caught it deftly ? one handedly, at that, and grinned at Catherine's look of confusion.

"Baseball?I'm a fan", he started, as if that explained his excellent visual-spatial skills.

He carefully unwrapped the present, as if the paper itself was treasured. He pulled out a shirt, from the National Geographic Society, apparently, that had renderings of various beetles on the front. It proclaimed, "Meet the Beetles" ? a take off on "Meet the Deedles."

"Thank you Nick. It will replace my scarab basketball t-shirt that Lindsey spilled grape juice on?"

Catherine snorted. "You had that shirt since?1986 or something Gil?Lindsey didn't exactly do you a disservice?"

Her attention turned to Sara. "What did Nicky get you, Sara?"

Sara looked a little uncomfortable, and hid her present behind her back. At Nick and Warrick's knowing look, she just shook her head ? almost miserably. Nick resumed his laughing, while Warrick grinned
back and forth at her and Gris. Grissom tried to feign disinterest.

Whatever he had gotten her was making her ? anxious.

In reality, Sara was hiding a very presumptuous "How To" book?this one read as, "How to care for your Orchid". Inside, Nick had taped some gift certificates for the various Las Vegas bookstores.

*Had he been drunk WHEN he had shopped for this?*, Sara pondered. Sure, it was sweet ? and it totally fit Nick. He was always teasing her about her relationship with Grissom, and yet?Gris was in the room, damn it!

Greg reached down under the tree, and pulled out some very neatly wrapped packages. None were the same size or shape ? but all were wrapped in blue, green and silver avant garde ?ish paper.

"This better not be a Black Sabbath cd", Warrick muttered good-naturedly.

He took the package from Greg, said, "Nice wrapping job!", and ripped the paper off quickly ? almost as quickly as Sara had devoured her presents.

"Aww?thanks man", Warrick smiled up at Greg. Greg had got him a premium electric taser. It had been what he had been jabbering about for weeks.

Nick's cries of excitement cut through the room.

"Wow, Greg ? ya rock! Ya got me my radiation detector! The one I wanted!! The one in the catalogue!"

Sara, who had once seen a very delightful photo of Nick at four years of age, could easily imagine how excitable he had been as a little boy. The baby of the family, with five older siblings?Christmas must
have really set off his ADHD?

Grissom, fascinated, analyzed the package, commenting on the high quality of the brand, while Sara and Catherine exchanged bemused looks. Nick had wanted a radiation detector?

"Oh?this is for you Sara", Greg smiled affectionately.

Sara unwrapped the package with tachyon speed.

"Yes! This is great! You taped the entire season of "6 feet Under"?I didn't know you liked that show!", she marveled.

Of course, it made sense that Sara's favorite television show would be, somehow, connected to her job. Greg had painstakingly copied the entire season of her favorite show, and then made DVD copies. It had
taken some finagling to get the missed episodes, and he had tried going online to find people willing to trade or sell. He had been planning this for weeks.

It was a highly personal gift ? one that Sara did not mind sharing with the other members of the group.

******

After everyone had opened their presents, Greg started to help Catherine with clean up. About 10 trees must have been cut down just to supply the wrapping paper?and Sara quickly got a recyclable bag and intervened.

"Don't think about throwing that in the trash?reuse, reduce, recycle", she mumbled.

Yes ? Sara Sidle, animal rights activist and vegetarian extraordinaire? was an environmentalist.

New music started up in the break room ? very UN-festive music. Grissom knew it to be "In the Air Tonight", by Phil Collins.

 

"Phil Collins?", he asked.

"Hey?its good?don't knock it", Sara argued.

"This is a Christmas party, Sara?this is not Christmas music", Catherine retorted.

Warrick held up his hands, "If I hear?Silent Night once more, I think I'm gonna puke?I'd rather listen to this?"

Grissom sardonically nodded in acquiescence. "Very elegantly put, Warrick?"

>

*********

Gil Grissom and Greg Sanders were quietly scanning the road. They were seated in the driver and passenger seats, when Greg commented on how?still?Las Vegas seemed.

Grissom had noticed it as well. "It does seem different right now?doesn't it?"

"Yeah", Greg's voice was quiet. His head whipped around. Nick and Sara were sleeping in the back seats of the Tahoe, while Warrick listened to some techno music from his new personal cd player. A new Sony shockwave-something-and-other? A gift from Catherine and Sara, who had pooled their money together to get him something he'd really love.

The techno cd was Sara's idea. He had been surprised to learn that she liked the song "Inhaler", and decided he would swap his Black Flag for some "Stereophonic Sound Spectacular". Grissom didn't seem to mind it as much, either.

"I wish it would snow?", Greg mumbled.

Grissom took his eyes off the road shortly to address the odd statement.

"This is Las Vegas, Greg", he began, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah?but I don't care?I miss the snow?"

Grissom was quiet for a moment. "That's right?you used to live in New York?"

Greg was shocked. He didn't think Grissom would have remembered?

"I haven't seen the snow in two years", he added, truthfully. "It doesn't seem like Christmas to me without it?"

"But you were at your parents last year?you bugged me for an extra week off?" He recalled the intensity, the need?that he had heard in the young man's request. In fact, Greg hadn't seemed very upbeat last year, as well.

Greg sighed. "Yeah?but my mom had moved to LA. Its hotter there, than here?if that's possible?"

Grissom knew it wasn't any of his business, but asked. "Why did your family move, if you don't mind me asking?" Greg had seemed distant all night. Something was upsetting him.

He exhaled sharply. "My Dad died from cancer?a few days before Christmas?last year. My mom was off with `Bill'?in L.A.", he sounded angry at himself. "I was so mad at her?.so I decided to go there first?to see her, and then spend Christmas with my Dad?"

Grissom felt such empathy for young lab technician. It surprised him?

"And, of course?he died before I ever got to see him?because I was at my mom's house?in LA. With no snow.", he gritted his teeth. Then, as if remembering where he was - or perhaps ? who he was talking to, he
added, "Jeez?if alcohol didn't kill me?I'd swear I was drunk right now?", he sighed.

Grissom didn't know how to respond. He was at a loss for words. "What sort of cancer did he have?", he asked at last.

Greg stared out onto the road, watching the yellow and white painted marks on the road flash past the car. It was almost hypnotic.

"Brain tumor?"

"I'm sorry", Grissom said, sincerely.

Greg nodded his head slightly, in acceptance. "Thanks?" Somehow, Grissom's display of?sympathy, made him feel apprehensive. He hadn't expected it? People always called him `Gruesome Grissom'?and here he was, venting to a man that had always regarded him coldly. What had he been thinking?

"Um?so", he cleared his throat, "who do we drop off first?"

*********

They pulled up in front of Sara's apartment building. The lull of the motion had really knocked her out. Even Nicky had awakened by this time.

"I wonder how long she'll sleep if we don't wake her up?", he mused.

Grissom rolled his eyes, but he understood Nick's deeper question.

"Who wakes her up Grissom?" Nick again.

Grissom did not intend to do the honours.

"Any takers?", Warrick had pulled the headphones off his head. He commented on her peaceful expression.

"Hey guys?she really does look?relaxed. Has anyone ever seen Sara look?so...calm?"

The three men across from him shook their heads.

Nick started to tap Sara impatiently. "Wake up", he muttered. "Sara?wake up!" he almost whined.

"There's *still* too much alcohol in your system, Nick, buddy?."

"Ugh...she's cutting off the circulation in my leg!"

Sara started to rouse.

"Finally!", Nick muttered. "If my leg needs to be amputated?it'll be YOUR fault", he stated, melodramatically, to the sleepy female in front of him.

Sara coughed ? the air in the vehicle was dry - and quickly grabbed her jacket. "What are you talking about?" She zipped up the denim coat.

"You feel asleep on TOP of me", he chirped suggestively. Greg and
Grissom just snorted.

"You should have just pushed me off of you", she added as she grabbed her backpack, yawning. "Merry Christmas, guys! See you on Tuesday!", she added, as she unlocked the door and hopped out onto the tar black asphalt.

**********

"God Nick?give it up. She isn't even heavy?", Greg added.

"She's over 100 pounds!", Nick argued.

Warrick snickered. "Sara is a featherweight?"

"That's a lot of weight to have resting on your leg - for over an hour!", he shot back.

"Suck it up Nicky", Grissom smiled.

Greg and Warrick grinned like fools.

"Ahh?look?you can now go and tend to that leg?and that rib", Grissom muttered. The Tahoe pulled up alongside of Nick's house, and he exaggeratedly limped out onto the street, while Greg shook his head ?
almost exasperated.

*********

"This is my stop", Greg burbled.

Grissom silently acknowledged the statement. He found himself staring - taken aback, at the building in front of him. He had expected Greg to reside in a glass apartment building, in a `hip' part of the city. Instead, he found himself gazing up at an old, small brick home on a quiet street. The yard was well cared for, and a cobblestone pathway lead to the door. Flowers?. lined the windowsill and the walkway in pots and planters. The fence was freshly painted, and everything looked remarkably well?tended to?

"You like to garden?", Grissom asked in astonishment.

"Yeah?its my diversion", Greg's eyes sparkled, and Grissom frowned. Where would he have heard that reference?

Greg laughed at Grissom's confusion. "No?seriously?I like to celebrate life. It is why I drink coffee and listen to Black Flag", he laughed.

"What?", Grissom looked lost. It was a very unusual state for him to be in?

"Nothing gets your heart pumping or your blood racing like Black Flag?", Greg calmly explained.

"Oh?I?I like roller coasters", Grissom muttered. He wasn't used to talking to very many people, and especially not Greg Sanders.

"Essentially, we are all searching for the same feeling though?we all want to feel alive", Greg replied, honestly.

"Yes", Grissom confirmed.

The two sat in silence for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'm going to go now?thanks for the ride?"

"I was the designated driver?it was my prerogative?my choice"

It was Grissom's way of saying "you are welcome", apparently.

"See you at work?"

Grissom chuckled, never once having thought he would hear Greg spouting such words.

"Merry Christmas Greg", he said with more warmth than ever before. "Tuesday", he reminded the young man.

"Okay?Tuesday?"

With that, Greg exited the vehicle, and strolled up to his home. Grissom pulled back from the curb, and drove to his townhouse.

Oddly, unexpectedly? it felt like Christmas.

~Fini~

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Saryn.
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