Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: Thanks to PhDelicous and Mingsmommy for their excellent beta-ing skills. I hope you enjoy this story, too. It might require you to suspend your disbelief just a touch, but hopefully you'll get a chuckle out of it. Thanks for reading!!
by Kristen Elizabeth
Grissom was having a good day.
CODIS had spit out a match for one of his active cases. Ecklie had announced that he would be taking a two-week vacation. The cantaloupe he'd eaten before work had been perfectly ripe. And Sara had served it to him in a nightgown he could see through.
It was a very good day. The kind that, statistically speaking, couldn't possibly last.
He was rounding the corner from the print lab, on his way to trace when he heard voices drifting into the hallway from the general direction of the layout room. His usual course of action was to studiously ignore rambunctious laughter during working hours. But then he heard her name mentioned.
And suddenly, he was all ears.
"I swear, man. Sara has a tattoo."
Nick laughed at Greg's declaration as Grissom got closer. "Uh-huh. Sure. Let me guess. A bleeding heart that says 'Hodges'. Go pull someone else's leg, Greggo."
"It's not a heart," Greg said in all seriousness. "It's sort of an earthy sun kind of a thing. A little hippie-ish." He paused, and Grissom could just picture him winking lasciviously. "But sexy."
"And where is it?"
Greg's voice lowered. "Let's just say…a place that's usually covered."
"Oh really?" Nick still sounded doubtful, but not all that dismissive anymore. "Yet you've seen it?"
"Well, I don't like to strip and tell, but I did take that shower with her a few years ago."
"A decon shower," Nick reminded him. There was a long pause. "So…let me ask you something. Sara. Is she…? I mean, are those…?"
Greg answered with confidence. "No alterations or enhancements. Just a perfect handful. Natural all the way. And let me tell you…" He lowered his voice again, but not enough so that Grissom couldn't hear him. "Cherry-topped sundaes, man."
Nick cleared his throat. "Um...so…the only footprints I can't account for are a size ten I found around back of the house…"
As Grissom turned and walked away, he pressed two fingers against the inside of his wrist. He counted each beat of his heart all the way to his office.
"One hundred," he muttered to himself.
"One hundred what?" Grissom released his wrist as Sara came up behind him, carrying a police file. "One hundred degrees?" she guessed with a groan. "The channel five weatherman should be fired; he said it wouldn't get above eighty."
He hated the fact that his gaze slipped down to her chest. They were a little more than a mere handful. And unlike Greg, he knew that from tactile experience, not visual estimation.
"Gris?" Sara waved her hand in front of his face. "My eyes are up here."
Blinking, he focused on her. "Sorry. I was just thinking."
Her eyebrow lifted in amusement. "About what?"
"Vengeance!" he quoted. "Dire vengeance on the wretch who cast o'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast."
Sara stared at him for a second. "I knew I shouldn't have asked." She put the file in his hands. "I'm due in autopsy."
When she was gone, Grissom sat down at his desk. His glassy stare wandered the room. He wasn't sure what he was searching for…until he found it in a jar next to his spiders' cage. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled at the ceiling.
Tomorrow would be an even better day.
Sara arrived home first, and headed straight to the bathroom where she drew a tub full of hot water and bubbles. She sank into it, put a washcloth over her eyes, and let the rest of the world disappear.
The water had just begun to cool when she heard a noise downstairs. She sat up and the washcloth fell away.
"Gris?" she called out. "Is that you?"
There was another crash; this one sounded more metallic than the last. Sara cursed as she climbed out of the tub and slipped into her robe. Her service weapon was locked up back at the lab; she had to settle for the autographed baseball bat Grissom had mounted on the bedroom wall.
She crept down the stairs, her bare feet making no noise on the carpeted steps. She heard bangs and crashes, the sound of cabinets being yanked open as they were raided. Sara took a breath before whipping around the corner, the bat high above her head, ready to come down on the unsuspecting intruder.
"Grissom?!" The man rifling through the kitchen turned as she cried out his name in angry shock.
"Sara?" He frowned. "Is that my Billy Williams bat?"
She carefully placed it on the kitchen table before putting her hands on her hips. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Do we have brown sugar?" he asked without answering her question.
"What about chocolate chips?"
Sara shook her head. "What are you talking about?" Right then she noticed what was lining the counters. Mixing bowls, beaters, a sack of flour, a carton of eggs, a box of baking soda. Putting it all together, she blinked in disbelief. "You're making cookies?"
He stopped his search for the sugar just long enough to nod. "I'm making cookies."
"May I ask why?" She tried to keep her tone steady, but she was afraid it came out sounding as if she were speaking to someone who'd just lost their mind.
"They're for Greg," he replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be baking for their younger co-worker.
"For Greg?" she repeated.
"And Nick." Grissom found what he was looking for behind a box of instant potatoes.
"You're making cookies…for Greg and Nick." Sara nodded slowly. "All right. That still doesn't answer the 'why'." Before he could address that, Sara smelled something, a buttery roasted scent that she couldn't quite identify. "Do you have something baking already?"
He cursed under his breath. "Thanks for reminding me." Grissom grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out a hot tray. He put it on top of the burners and closed the oven door. "Perfect," he announced. "Another minute and they would have burned."
Sara moved towards the stove, her eyes growing wider as she got closer. "Grissom," she said quietly. "Are those…?"
"Yes," he replied.
"And are you going to put them in…?"
"I am." He grabbed two eggs from the carton. "I suppose you're asking yourself why I would do that."
"Oh…that's not the only thing I'm asking myself," she assured him. "But since you brought it up…"
He stopped cracking the eggs and looked at her. "Would you think less of me if you found out I have the capacity to get irrationally jealous?"
It wouldn't have helped matters to remind him that she was already aware of this fact. He'd gone weeks without speaking to her after he'd found out Hank Peddigrew took her to see a movie every once in awhile.
"I don't understand. What are you jealous about?" Grissom mumbled something unintelligible. "What was that?"
"Greg's seen you naked," he said again, louder than necessary.
Sara let this sink in. "You knew that. You signed our report on the decontamination incident."
"But I didn't let myself really think about it. I couldn't. It was too much." He began creaming the butter like he was punishing it, too. "He saw your tattoo, Sara. I didn't see it until our third date! Not to mention your…" Wisely, he stopped. For a brief second, she thought she saw his lower lip poke out. "I didn't like it. I don't like it."
"So…because he saw something you consider your private property, you're going to trick him into eating…"
"No, Sara." Grissom looked her straight in the eye. "That's not what I'm saying. You're not my private property, honey. I'm just…unaccustomed to this feeling."
Sara folded her arms over her robe. "And what feeling is that, again?"
"The inexplicable urge to superglue Greg's lips together so he can't casually discuss your body with Nick in the middle of the lab," he replied. After a second, he went back to his batter. "But in lieu of that, this will have to do."
She came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. "You're a very strange and complex man."
"For being strange and complex?" Sara rubbed her nose against his back. "I'll think about it."
He turned around to face her. "For what I'm about to feed Greg Sanders."
"What exactly did he say about my body?" As Grissom recapped Nick and Greg's conversation, her eyes grew wide in righteous fury. "Just a handful?!" she spluttered. "Cherry-topped sundaes!?" After a second, she grabbed the spoon from him. "Get the vanilla. It's in the pantry."
Grissom kissed her cheek, but she was too busy with the butter to notice. She pointed to the cookie sheet that was cooling on the stove. "And we're going to need more of those."
The tin-foil wrapped paper plate was the first thing Greg saw when he entered the break room the next day.
"Does that belong to someone?" he asked the only other person in the room.
Grissom glanced up from his coffee. "They're for everyone," he said. "Help yourself."
Greg peeled back the foil, revealing a dozen tempting-looking cookies. "Sweet!" he exclaimed. "Who baked?"
"That would be me." Grissom started for the door. "I'm a man of many…" He paused just long enough to watch Greg stuff a whole cookie in his mouth. "…talents."
Nick breezed past him on his way to the coffee pot. "Hello, cookies," he said, changing course and heading straight for them. "Come to Nicky." He bit into one with relish.
"Really good, Gris," Greg mumbled around his massive mouthful. Swallowing, he grabbed another one. "A little nutty."
"And crunchy," Nick agreed, taking a second bite. "What's in 'em? Walnuts?"
Grissom smiled at the boys. "Crickets."
Chocolate Chirp Cookies
2 1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup brown sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup roasted crickets
Preheat oven to 375. In small bowl, combine flour, baking soda and salt; set aside. In large bowl, combine butter, sugar, brown sugar and vanilla; beat until creamy. Beat in eggs. Gradually add flour mixture and insects, mix well. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by rounded measuring teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes.
The recipe is courtesy of Weirdfood . com. Enjoy!