A/N – This is my sequel to Beer Five. With everything happening on CSI, I got a bit depressed and decided to write something a little lighter – more fun. It's just a little fluff please.
I really like hearing responses. They let me know people are
1. reading the story and 2. enjoying the writing.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here. Okay, the conversations are figments of my demented imagination, but other than that, the characters, etc. are all owned by CBS.
"Well, here we are again," said Nick, scooting into the large curving booth.
Greg and Warrick slid in next, leaving Catherine the edge, while Jim and Sofia took the chairs at the table.
"So where are they?" Nick asked.
"They left at least an hour before we did," Greg grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"What's so funny?" a flushed and grinning Sara asked, approaching the table.
"Nothing much," Greg replied, and diverted Sara's attention with, "How are you feeling? How's the pre-munchkin?"
Sara's grin softened to as she got into the booth opposite Catherine.
"I feel wonderful," she sighed.
Catherine wondered if Sara even knew her hand was rubbing the visible tell-tale bulge of her stomach. The blond sat back and watched the dark-haired CSI gently move her hand back and forth, as if caressing the life she carried.
"Any reason you're staring at me?" Sara asked Catherine.
"You seem more… content," Catherine responded. "You and Grissom seem very happy."
"Did someone say my name?" Grissom asked.
"Scoot," Gil said to Sara, who responded with, "Yes, dear."
The waitress came over, took their orders and left.
"Sofia, I'm glad you could join us," Sara commented, smiling at her, then glaring at Jim.
"Thanks for the invite," Sofia smiled back.
While he was still not a hundred percent comfortable with the weekly gathering, Gil was able to relax a lot more than in the first few weeks of the ritual gathering.
"Hey Sara," Greg said, "Thanks for letting me work that case with you. That was a ton of fun – I haven't ridden a horse since I was a kid at the petting zoo."
"Hold it!" Gil exploded and stared at Sara, "What were you two doing riding horses. Especially in your condition."
Exasperated, Sara huffed, "For God's sake, Gil. Do you really think I'd do something stupid like ride a horse while pregnant?"
On a roll, she railed at him, "If you would stop trying to wrap me in bubble wrap, you'd notice that you do NOT need to protect me from myself!"
Sara would have continued the tirade had the waitress not interrupted with their drinks, and started the tab.
Reaching to her, Gil placed one hand over Sara's abdomen and the other around her shoulders, and sighed, "I just worry about you, honey."
"I know," she responded, "but I wish you would stop panicking at the mere thought of me walking down a flight of steps."
Gil reached for his whiskey, while Sara sipped her juice.
"So, exactly when did you guys start meeting like this?" Sofia asked.
Grissom took a gulp of his whiskey and responded, "Oh… a few months ago."
Then turning his head to the left of Sofia, he purposely glared at Brass.
Nick laughed, "Man, Griss… never saw you get tanked before that first meeting of the CSI weekly think tank."
"Ha. Ha. Ha." Gil responded, punctuating each 'Ha' and taking another swig of his drink.
Sara, feeling just a bit tired leaned into Gil and felt his arm slip from her shoulder, behind her back, and pull her a little closer. He still wasn't totally comfortable with the whole public display of affection thing, but with his team he felt okay about it. They'd gotten used to seeing him have an arm around his wife.
Sara jumped in her seat, yelling, "Gil!"
"What! What's wrong? Sara speak to me," he ordered.
Instead, she took his hand and placed it on her stomach.
Tears in her eyes she excitedly asked, "Feel that?"
"Oh… oh wow…" was all he could say in reply, his own eyes misting over.
Looking around the table, Sara laughed through the tears and explained, "The baby's been kicking for nearly two weeks, but Gil's never been around at the time."
A foolish grin on his face, Gil scanned the table and made the obvious statement, "I'm going to be a dad pretty soon."
As the laughter died down, a waitress came by with a refreshed whiskey for Gil and another beer for Greg.
"So, have you guys been thinking up names yet?" Catherine asked.
"Yes, but nothing definite," Sara replied.
"We don't want to say anything about a name until we know the name," Gil continued for her.
Jim cleared his throat, and started to speak, only to be shut down by Sara raising her hand to warn him to stop. Gil watched Sara's expression turn to a glare, while he took another sip of his whiskey.
Deciding he liked the thought of living for awhile longer, Jim slumped back in his chair.
"So Nick… you said you were dating someone the other day," Sara said, purposely ignoring Jim.
"Oh, really?" Catherine added with a growing grin. "Dish. I want details."
"Come on, guys," Nick said, starting to blush, a big Texas grin on his face, "give me a break. We've only been seeing each other a couple of weeks."
Gil took a drink of his whiskey, and relaxed into his seat a bit more, holding his hand over Sara's abdomen, waiting for another kick.
"You've got a goofy grin on your face, Gil," Sara whispered in his ear, "it makes you kind of cute."
"You're laughing a lot more," he breathed in hers, "it makes you stunningly beautiful."
"Are you trying to make me cry?" she asked, nuzzling and kissing his neck, eyes misty.
Suddenly, Warrick's hand shot up, holding a twenty, which Greg victoriously grabbed and stuffed in his front pocket.
"Told you," Greg gleefully said. "Didn't even make it half an hour before they start making out."
Rolling her eyes, Sara informed him, "We are not making out."
"Did your lips just touch him in any manner?" Greg asked.
Glaring at him, Sara gave a sharp nod.
"Then you were making out, according to the rules of Greg Sanders," Warrick informed her. "And I'm out twenty bucks."
"Are we really getting that predictable?" Gil asked, finishing his drink, and waving down the waitress for another round of drinks.
Laughing, Catherine responded, "Only to us. I'm pretty sure you two are the most unconventional couple I've ever met, but we know you."
As the waitress brought another round, Catherine managed to wheedle a little more information out of Nick regarding the girl he was seeing – as he described her a "beautiful blond teacher he ran into in the produce aisle".
"So there I was, looking at grapes and apples, when WHAM! I slammed my cart right into hers," he said, grinning, "and instead of getting all ticked off about it, she starts laughing."
"Maybe once you two have been dating awhile, you'll ask her to join us. Might as well let her see what a dysfunctional family you really have," laughed Warrick.
"Oh, come on Rick," Greg lamented. "We're not that dysfunctional."
Rolling her eyes, Catherine said, "Points of fact. One, nearly everyone here has been hurt or nearly killed at a crime scene or become a crime scene themselves. Two, we bet on nearly anything. Three, just how long had Gil and Sara been dating before we figured it out? Four, we've all gone out for breakfast right after watching an autopsy. Five, on what planet would anyone actually want to do our jobs and enjoy it?"
"She's got a point," Sofia interjected. "I'd say that pretty much defines dysfunctional."
"You might want to remember that you were afraid to tell your parents what you do for a living, Greg," Grissom added. "I'd call that slightly dysfunctional."
"Grissom," Greg hissed. "You were the only one I told about that."
Watching Greg's face turn red, Gil winced.
"Sorry about that," he said, not sounding all that apologetic.
At this point, Sara looked at the half-empty drink in front of her husband.
Oh lord, she thought, here we go again.
Besides five beers, Sara knew Gil had one other weakness. Four whiskeys. Whiskey had a tendency to hit him pretty hard. He rarely drank the stuff, primarily because it only took a few to get him really silly. By the fourth he tended to be loopy enough that she could tell him she'd burned down the house, and she'd get a grin. Well, if she stopped him at three, he'd be really buzzed, but functional.
"Gil, honey, you need to let me out," Sara told him. "I need to use the restroom."
As she passed Catherine, she leaned in and whispered, "Don't let him get another drink."
Catherine figured she'd have just enough time to see what four whiskeys did to her colleague, so as soon as Gil took that last gulp, she made sure another was waiting for him – all before Sara got back.
As Sara passed Jim, she smacked him in the back of the head.
"Ouch!" he yelled, and watched Gil slide in, making room for Sara.
"Okay, what's going on with you guys tonight?" asked Nick. "What did you do to tick of Sara and Griss, Jim."
"Look, it wasn't my fault," he explained. "I can't help it if we've got bugs and a case becomes time-sensitive."
"You made him miss the ultrasound," Sara accused. "You promised he'd be back in plenty of time."
"I know, and I'm sorry a thousand times over," Jim said, and then muttered, "I promise it won't happen again."
Shaking his head, Gil just said, "I told you I should've just driven myself, Jim. I would have made it back in plenty of time." With that, Gil took another drink.
"Ultrasound?" Catherine asked.
"I had an ultrasound today," Sara sighed.
"Did you get pictures?" Greg asked, curious to see a real picture of the pre-munchkin.
"Actually," Sara replied, "I did."
Pulling a couple shots out of her purse, she handed them to Gil. She'd been hoping to show them to him at home tonight – alone. However, after he'd picked her up, he'd asked her how it went, and then his hands seemed to be everywhere… touching, feeling, caressing.
Sara had lost all track of thought once he'd started nibbling on her ears, so she hadn't had a chance to show him the images or tell him how the visit had gone.
Their first group outing had ended with Jim asking if it was a boy or a girl. She had that answer, and was eager to share it with him.
Gil just stared at the images, not able to take his eyes off of them. They looked just a bit blurred, so he couldn't make out a lot in the way of features, but the pictures showed his child.
He picked up his glass to take another drink, and decided maybe he'd had enough for the night. Passing the pictures around the table for the others to see, it was Jim who said, "You never answered my question: Is it a boy or a girl?"
It had been a long time since Gilbert Grissom had felt tears track down his face, but he did when Sara looked into his eyes, smiled, and whispered, "Both."