Author: Michmak

Summary: The CSIs spend a morning at a popular disco; electric jello, body shots and bad music ensues. S/G, C/W, Nick and Shot Girl, Greg and a redhead.

Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.


Grissom looked into the lounge room, trying not to frown at the easy laughter emanating from within it. It was a slow night - one desperately needed after the sheer horror of the last few cases, and Grissom didn't understand why he begrudged anyone their happy laughter, but he did.

No - scotch that - he did know why he was frowning, and the matter was quiet simple really. He was jealous. Flat out jealous that Sara was in there, laughing with them, and he was standing out in the hallway listening.

He knew all he had to do was walk through the door and join them, just as he suspected the minute he entered the room, the dynamics would change. They would still laugh and tease, but it wouldn't be as spontaneous. They would all be just a little too aware that he was there - the boss was in the room - better not be too outrageous! And, as surely as spiders slowly suffocated their victims, the untempered joy in the room would be sucked right out.

Grissom snorted in half-amusement, half-frustration at the analogy, listening intently to the easy banter, his feet dragged inexorably into the lounge despite his best intentions.

Greg was standing at the coffee machine, waiting for the brew currently percolating to finish. Grissom eyed the wide collared purple polyester leisure shirt peaking out from under his lab coat askance. Greg grinned at Grissom before turning to Sara.

"So, Sara - when are you going to take us up on our offer to show you the nightlife?" Greg's tone was a study in casualness, and Grissom grinned at the idea of Greg trying to play it cool for a change.

"I work night's Greg. I've seen more of the nightlife in Las Vegas than I want." Sara's tone was dry, but she smiled at the young man. "Besides which, I have no interest in going to a cheesy strip club with you and Nick." She glanced at Grissom and cocked an eyebrow at him, shifting over on the small two-seater, making room for him to sit down.

Greg tried to look offended. "Who said anything about a strip club?" He shot a pleading glance at Nick, who was grinning into his cola can. "Would we take her to a cheesy strip club, Nick?"

"Not if we valued our life." The response was droll. "Besides, there's plenty of perfectly fine upscale strip clubs we could take her too. I'm sure the really bad ones could be avoided."

"You're not helping." Greg's response to Nick's teasing prompted a laugh from Warrick.

"Where would you take Sara, Greg? I'm interested in knowing what you're proposing here."

Greg turned to Warrick. "Not just me - us! We should all go. We could take her to Express, the new club on the strip by the Tropicana. A friend of mine works the doors there, so it would be easy to get in. And, they're opened 24 hours, so we could go after shift one night."

The other CSIs looked at him blankly. "Isn't it a disco?" Nick finally asked, his tone dubious.

"Yeah. So what? It's easy to dance too. And the crowd there is pretty much 28 and over, so more your age." He grinned cheekily at Nick. "Don't want to surround you with jailbait - need to consider your occupation, you know."

Nick snaked out a hand, cuffing Greg playfully across the top of the head. "So considerate, Greg. But who will you hit on?"

"I happen to like older women." Greg replied huffily. "They're more -"

"Desperate?" Warrick grinned.

"Hey! I happen to be an older woman. Do you think I'm desperate?" Catherine, who had been sitting opposite the men playing solitaire, interjected silkily, shooting the three men an arch look. Sara nudged Grissom in the ribs gleefully, turning to smile at him before turning back to the sudden uncomfortable shifting of the guys.

"Uhm - I think the safest response here is absolutely none." Nick responded. Catherine cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh-huh. What about you Greg?" She smiled sweetly at the young lab tech, her eyes flashing amusement as a red-hot blush whipped up his cheeks.

"I - I - no. Obviously, you're not desperate Catherine. I mean - I mean -" he shot a panicked glance at Warrick, who merely shrugged. "I don't think you're old at all!"

"That is such a wrong answer, Greg." Warrick interjected smoothly. "When you're put in the hot seat by a woman of Catherine's caliber, there is only one response." He stood and walked to Catherine's side, cool as a cucumber, kneeling before her. Everyone in the room was staring at him, waiting to see what he had planned.

Warrick reached forward and took Catherine's hand, holding it tightly in his own. Finally, when the silence was so thick you could have cut it with a knife; Warrick threw his head back dramatically, staring into Catherine's eyes beseechingly.

"Forgive me!" he begged. "It is us mere men who are desperate in your presence. You are a veritable goddess among women."

Catherine's mouth dropped open, and Sara started giggling helplessly. Warrick winked at Catherine before turning back to Greg and grinning.

"Grovel, Greg. It works everytime."

* * * * *

"I can't believe you actually talked me into this." Grissom grumbled in annoyance as he followed the rest of his team into Express. The pounding driving disco beat was already giving him a headache.

Catherine leaned forward and clapped Grissom on the shoulders. "C'mon. Consider this an experiment on the mating rituals of disco divas or something. Besides which, this should be fun. I've never seen you dance!"

"There's a reason for that!" Grissom responded dryly. Warrick and Greg were at the bar, and Grissom followed Nick and Sara to an empty table they had managed to find tucked to the side of the dance floor.

"I can't believe how packed this place is at 9:00 in the morning!" Sara hollered at them over the music. "Don't these people have jobs?"

Grissom shrugged and looked around. Out on the dance floor, people in various styles of dress - or undress, as the case may be, shimmied to the relentless pounding rhythm of Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive'. A couple immediately in front of Grissom - about ten feet away - were grinding indecently against each other. Sara nudged Grissom's foot with hers, smiling at him teasingly when he turned widened blue eyes to her. He scowled and blushed when he realized she'd caught him staring at them.

"Never seen anyone dirty dance before, Grissom?" Her voice, although she was yelling, was strangely happy. Grissom noticed in amazement that she was making little herky-jerky movements with her shoulders, picking up the beat. Her foot was tapping dangerously against the floor, and Grissom watched enthralled as the lean muscles of her leg bunched and tightened against the taut fabric of her jeans. He swallowed.

"Is that what they call it?" He responded, shifting slightly closer to her as Warrick and Greg returned to the table, laden with drinks. He smiled his appreciation at Warrick when a cold beer was slid his way, and he took a long swig, allowing himself to forget he hadn't even had breakfast yet. Greg had slid into a small space between Sara and Catherine, straddling the bench between his legs as he handed Sara a rum and coke with extra cherries. She just grinned at Greg, before sliding closer to Grissom and giving him more room.

Sara was now pressed hip to hip against him, and he could feel her heat through the barrier of their clothes, even as he felt her swaying against him to the relentless beat.

A striking redhead approached their table, smiling prettily at Nick as she leaned forward and asked him if he cared to dance. She had glitter on her ample cleavage, and Grissom felt himself blush again when he realized he had looked at her.

Nick grinned widely as he allowed himself to be pulled to the dance floor. Within moments, he was lost in the crowd.

Greg leaned slightly over Sara's shoulder, hollering at them, "Didn't take Nick long!" He was grinning, but Grissom detected a hint of wistfulness in the younger man's voice. "Everytime we go anywhere - bam! Women flock to him like flies to honey!"

Sara patted Greg's knee consolingly. "That's because he has great pick-up lines!"

Catherine, sitting on Greg's opposite side, heard Sara and hollered back. "He doesn't need pick-up lines. If I was 15 years younger -" she leered dramatically, before bursting into laughter. Across the table from her, Warrick smiled in appreciation. "Besides, Greg," she finally continued, "have you ever heard his pick-up lines. They're really bad!"

Grissom looked at Catherine curiously. "How would you know anything about Nick's pick-up lines, Catherine?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Who do you think he tests them on first, Grissom?"

Warrick leaned into the conversation. "If he's running them by you for an honest opinion, Catherine, couldn't you keep him from using them?"

She just laughed. "Why spoil someone else's fun? Besides, even though they are god-awful, he's so cute when he says them." she drifted off, giggling again. "Did you hear his latest?"

Despite himself, Grissom was intrigued. He looked at the other CSIs and noticed they were all waiting for Catherine to elucidate. Grissom had to smile at the irony - he would never have thought last night that twelve hours later he'd be sitting in a disco listening to Catherine gossip about Nick's pick-up lines. He looked at Catherine again. She was grinning.

"Well?" Greg demanded impatiently.

With an exaggerated motion, Catherine held up her hand, crooked her finger at Warrick and smiled enticingly. Warrick, and everyone else, leaned towards her in anticipation.

"If I can make you come with one finger, imagine what I could do with all four!" Dead silence at the table as everyone looked at Catherine in shock, before laughter overtook them. They were all still gasping and wiping their eyes when Nick returned to their table, flushed and out of breath.

"What did I miss?" he demanded as he sat down.

Warrick just looked at him and shook his head. "Sad, man. That's all I can say."

* * * * *

Grissom was nursing his third beer, watching Sara surreptitiously over the rim of the upturned bottle as she danced with Nick. Warrick had dragged Catherine out with him, and Greg was off snagging more drinks for everyone. Leaving Grissom to guard the table.

Grissom admired the lithe movements of Sara's arms and legs as she danced effortlessly to the music, her hips rolling to the rhythm. Dancing with Nick, her face happier than he'd seen it in a long time, Grissom thought to himself they made a stunning couple. Not that they were a couple. At least he didn't think so, anyways. He frowned, and glanced at his beer bottle. He'd have to ask Catherine if they were.

Grissom turned to glance at Catherine and Warrick, realizing their movements weren't as frenetic as Sara's and Nick's. Catherine's petite frame was thisclose to Warrick, and the tall man dwarfed her. She had her arms draped over his shoulders, stretching her neck gracefully and smiling up at him, and Grissom noticed that Warrick's hands rode possessively on Catherine's hips as they shimmied against his.

"Yowza!" Greg's voice startled Grissom, and he quickly turned to look at the young lab tech. Greg's gaze had followed Grissom's, and he too was staring at Catherine. "How did I miss that? When did those two get together?"

He handed Grissom another beer, slumping down beside him, and taking a quick draw on his own. Grissom looked at Greg curiously.

"You think they are? Together?" he questioned.

Greg nodded absently. "If they're not, they will be soon. She's practically in his shirt!" He darted a sudden glance at Grissom. "Does that bother you?"

"No. Why should it? She's a big girl, she can handle herself." Grissom looked at Greg, honestly surprised at the question. "Should it bother me?"

Greg shrugged. "I thought you and Catherine -" he paused. "Obviously, I was wrong."

Grissom's eyes grazed over Catherine again, before seeking out Sara and Nick on the dance floor, a small frown creasing his brows as he realized Nick was now standing behind Sara, his arms around her waist, his chest tight to her back, as they swayed together to the music. Greg followed his gaze.

"Sara, huh?"

Grissom started. "Pardon me?"

"Sara. Me too." The young lab tech looked at Grissom seriously. "You've got a better chance than me, though."

Grissom blinked in shock. "I'm not interested in Sara - other than in a professional capacity."

"Ri-i-ight." Greg drolled. "That's why you're staring at her and frowning at Nick."

"I'm not staring. Or frowning at Nick." Grissom purposely looked away from Sara and frowned directly at Greg. "I'm frowning at you."

Greg grinned. "Yeah - now you are. But only because I figured it out. Don't worry, Grissom. I won't tell her unless you want me too." His voice was teasing, and his grin grew wider when Grissom glared. "I take that to mean you don't want me to say anything."

Grissom sighed in disgust. "I'm too old for her." He was surprised at what the statement was tacitly admitting - to Greg of all people. Grissom frowned at his beer.

Greg snorted. "You're not that much older than her. Only what - 14, 15 years? My dad is 20 years older than my mother - doesn't mean a thing. Besides which, I know for a fact Sara likes older men."

"Really?" Grissom's tone was both sarcastic and serious. "And how do you know that?"

"She told me once, when I asked her why she wouldn't go out with me." Greg smiled at Grissom thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should've asked her if she liked older men in general or one older man in particular."

Grissom flushed at Greg's teasing. "She's not interested in me."

"She moved to Las Vegas for you."

"Not for me. For the team."

"Not for the team. She didn't know us then. She moved because you asked her to. Shouldn't that mean something?"

Grissom merely shrugged, finished off his beer and grabbed a swig out of the new bottle.

* * * * *

"Who's idea was this?" Sara screeched, laughing and more than a little tipsy as Catherine passed around small Dixie cups of lime green jello. Sara took two, quickly handing one to Grissom who was pressed in beside her again.

"Electric jello! Hello!" Catherine was practically glued to Warrick's side, her free hand sitting on his knee as she raised the Dixie cup in an inelegant toast. "Who's idea do you think it was?"

Everyone tossed back their jello, Grissom slightly dubious as he felt the cold weight of it slide down his throat. "Why's it called electric jello?"

"It's made with Vodka instead of water." Nick hollered at him. "Too many of these babies, and you'll be under the table!"

A scantily clad waitress approached their table, a low slung leather belt around her hips laden with shot glasses and an industrial size salt shaker. A bottle of tequila was strapped to her side in place of a six-gun, and her cowboy hat was laden with lemon and lime wedges.

"Hey guys!" she drawled. "Can I interest any of you in a shot of tequila?"

Nick grinned at her. "One for everyone!" he ordered, expansively.

The waitress smiled back, and started pulling out shot glasses. "Well, that's great sugar. Only thing is, you have to have your shots 'Express' style." She smiled coyly at Nick, before turning her grin on the rest of the table. "Body shots!"

Greg sat up a little straighter, suddenly smiling. "Body shots? On who?"

"What do you mean on who? What the hell is a body shot?" Grissom grumbled, suddenly nervous.

Greg grinned at him. "Allow me to demonstrate." He reached out a hand for the salt shaker, leaned towards Sara and licked her shoulder, quickly sprinkling salt on it.

Sara jerked away from him. "Hey!" she started protesting.

"Sara. House rules. Besides, I can't lick her -" he jerked his head towards the shot girl, his tone teasing, "I don't know her."

Shot girl handed Greg his tequila, and Greg quickly licked the salt from Sara's shoulder, downed his drink, and sucked on a lemon wedge. He grinned at Grissom's shuttered glare. "Of course, technically Sara should have been holding the lemon wedge in her teeth and I should have sucked-"

"Greg!" Grissom's tone was curt. "We get the picture!"

Greg just grinned. "Okay! Who's next?"

Nick turned to shot girl, pointing to her collarbone, flashing his killer grin. "Do you mind?"

"Be my guest!" she tilted her neck to the side. "Do I detect a Texas accent?"

Nick nodded happily as he grabbed the salt shaker from Greg. "Born and bred."

"Is it true what they say?" Shot girl asked teasingly as Nick licked her.

He pulled away and waggled his eyebrows at her. "About everything being bigger in Texas? That's a trade secret."

Catherine and Sara looked at each other and rolled their eyes, even as they joined the rest of the team in amused laughter. Nick was something else altogether.

"I've always wanted to visit Texas." Shot girl offered as Nick finished his body shot. "Maybe I can start with visiting you?"

Nick sucked happily on his lemon wedge, winking at shot girl as he handed the salt shaker to Sara. "You're turn, Sidle. Who's the lucky man?"

"I would suggest Grissom!" Greg interjected. "Seeing as you're already facing him anyway."

Sara looked at Grissom nervously. "I don't think I like tequila," she muttered.

"You're forgetting the last Christmas party." Greg's expression was gleeful as Sara tilted her head backwards and shot him a glare almost as lethal as the one Grissom was sending him. "C'mon, Sidle. Grissom won't mind - will you Grissom?"

Across from Sara, Catherine was smirking. She squeezed Warrick's knee in anticipation as Sara's brown eyes met Gil's blue ones. Grissom swallowed noticeably before shrugging, trying to play down his apprehension.

Sara glared at Greg again for good measure, before grabbing the salt shaker. "Okay. Where do you want it Grissom?" She turned red when she heard Catherine's amused snort, but chose to ignore it.

Grissom started holding out his arm, but shot girl stepped forward. "Nope - against house rules. Has to be upper body or face. Or stomach."

Grissom flushed and looked at Sara, who was squirming uncomfortable in her seat. He cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her response.

"Uh - neck? Neck okay, Grissom?"

Grissom nodded mutely, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as Sara leaned closer. He tilted his head back slightly, and tried not to react when he felt her warm tongue quickly lick the column of his throat.

He gasped in surprise as shot girl slid a lemon wedge between his lips, and suddenly Sara was licking his throat again before slipping her tongue along the seam between his lips and the lemon, sucking it hastily out of his mouth.

He didn't realize he was smiling at her and licking his lips until shot girl pressed the salt into his hand.

Grissom was fully aware of the avid gazes of the rest of his team, and for once in his life he didn't really care. He could still taste - barely - lemon, tequila and salt from the light touch of Sara's tongue on his lips. Where she had licked his neck, he felt as if he had a permanent brand - the skin was literally burning. He looked over Sara's shoulder and noticed vaguely that Greg was giving him the thumbs up sign. Grissom realized he might be slightly drunk as he gripped the salt shaker in his left hand and lifted his right to Sara's shoulder. His fingers, of their own will, slid slightly under the collar of her v-neck t-shirt, sliding the material to the side and exposing a thin black bra strap.

He reached for a lemon wedge and placed it silently between Sara's teeth, smiling into her wide brown eyes, before turning his attention to her exposed flesh.

Leaning forwards, he traced his tongue wetly from the hollow of her neck to the outside edge of the bra strap, before sprinkling the salt on her. Applying his mouth to the same spot, he wrapped his lips around her collar bone, sucking gently, feeling her rapid pulse beneath his lips.

He quickly threw his head back, downed his tequila, and pulled Sara's face towards his for the lemon. He opened his mouth, biting down gently on the wedge, catching Sara's lips gently in his teeth before sucking the lemon into his mouth.

Grissom smiled, Cheshire-like, at Sara's stunned expression, leaning forward and whispering in her ear, "Tastes good," before turning his gaze towards the stunned expressions on his friends.

"Wow, Grissom!" Greg, not surprisingly, was the first to speak. "When you make a move, you make a move!"

Sara giggled nervously, one hand traveling unconsciously to her mouth, the other to her neck. Her breathing was still erratic, her eyes heavy lidded as she looked at Grissom in shock. Across from her, Catherine nudged Warrick in the ribs.

"I hope you watched that closely Warrick. 'Cuz, it's my turn."

* * * * *

Catherine and Warrick had returned to the dance floor, oblivious to the music as they swayed to their own personal rhythm. Nick had left about 20 minutes ago, shot girl in tow, to the hooting and catcalls of the rest of the team. He had cheerfully flipped them all the bird before he left, and Grissom had laughed with everyone else at his good-natured response to their obnoxious teasing.

Greg, oddly enough, was dancing with the red-head who had first approached Nick when they had arrived at Express over two hours ago. Nick had whispered casually to Greg that she had been asking questions about him the whole time they had been dancing. Greg had snorted in disbelief, but Nick had insisted it was the truth. Eventually Greg had worked up his courage and approached her. If the make-out session in the middle of the dance floor was any indication, they seemed to be hitting it off.

Grissom and Sara sat silently at the table, in a strange sort of limbo, highly aware of the other sitting mere millimeters from them. Despite the sudden amount of room on the benches surrounding their table, they were still pressed hip to hip, breathing in tandem. Their sides rose and fell together, their arms brushing together with every breath.

Grissom was listening vaguely to the words of the song pounding from the loud speakers surrounding them.

~ Body...wanna feel my body?

Body...such a thrill my body

Body...wanna touch my body?

Body...it's too much my body

Check it out my body, body.

Don't you doubt my body, body.

talkin' bout my body, body,

check it out my body~

He grinned when he realized it was a song he recognized - the Village People were alive and well and living at Express in the year 2002. Turning suddenly, he smiled at Sara.

"I know this song!"

Sara blinked at him. "And this makes you happy? It's the Village People, Grissom."

Grissom nodded. "I know that. It's the only song I've recognized all night."

"Well, then. Want to dance?" Sara's tone was bright, but she watched Grissom warily, waiting for his response.

"There is not enough tequila in the world, Sara." His response was dry, but his eyes flashed at her when he smiled.

"C'mon, Grissom. You can't be that bad. Besides which, you've already proven tonight how adaptable you are." Sara suddenly looked at his lips and blushed, causing Grissom to smile again, broader this time.

"I'm a quick study. Besides, I like the taste of lemon." Grissom leaned closer to Sara; eyes sharpening as she nervously licked her lips. His face was inches from her, his breath warming her face. "Greg told me something interesting tonight." He sat back, face suddenly neutral as he waited for Sara to jump on board his sudden train of thought.

"Huh?" Sara licked her lips again. "You actually listened to something Greg had to say?"

Grissom shrugged. "We were talking about you. I was interested in the discussion."

"Me? What did Greg have to say about me?" Sara squeaked, clearly nervous. Her eyes darted to Grissom's, then away then back again.

"He told me you liked older men." There was no need to extrapolate on this statement. Grissom watched with a detached wonder as her eyes widened and her nostrils flared.

"That little shit! I'm going to kill him!"

Grissom leaned close to her again. "Why? Was he lying?"

Sara stopped her annoyed muttering and looked at Grissom, nostrils flaring again before she suddenly blanked her expression, her gaze reflecting Grissom's.

"Does it matter?"

Grissom edged even closer, lightly trailing his hand up her arm before letting it rest on her shoulder. His fingers cupped the back of her neck, and his thumb idly circled the hollow of her throat. Grissom could feel a couple of arrant crystals of salt, and muttered gruffly, "I missed some salt."

The heat of Grissom's hand and the languid movement of his thumb held Sara in thrall, and she half-closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, allowing Grissom more access to the smooth skin of her throat. Grissom leaned even closer, his warm breath caressing the hollow of her throat, as he absently lifted his thumb and licked the salt from it before returning it to her skin.

Sara's hands had drifted to settle on Grissom's knees, her body twisted at an awkward angle, her breathing erratic. "I do, you know," she muttered hoarsely.

Grissom's thumb paused its gentle exploration of her neck momentarily. He slowly lifted his head away from his hand to look her more fully in the face, the soft curls of his head grazing under her chin and making her shudder. Deep in her throat, he felt the vibration of her soft moan.

"You do what?" He whispered this softly in her ear, flicking his tongue out and gently tracing the outer shell. He felt rather than saw her eyes shut fully, and smiled at the insanity of it all.

~ Body, its so hot, my body,

Body, love to pop my body,

Body, love to please my body,

Body, don't you tease my body,

Body, you'll adore my body,

Body, come explore my body,

Body, made by God, my body,

Body, it's so good, my body.~

"I like older men."

"I like younger women."

Sara rested her cheek against his. The hands that had been gripping his knees so tightly had somehow traveled up Grissom's back, and her fingers now nested in his hair. Against the soft skin of her face, his stubble felt deliciously rough.

"I have tequila back at my place," she smiled, "and several areas of my body available for you to practice your salt licking technique on."

"Ah, but do you have lemon wedges." Grissom's voice was gruff, but he slowly stood and pulled Sara to her feet. They were gazing at each other with equally dazed expressions, their skin flushed and their hearts pounding.

Sara mutely shook her head, before leaning into Grissom and kissing him gently before she pulled away. Grissom kissed her back, before wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they headed out the doorway. "Remind me to thank Greg the next time I see him."


Author's note: Okay - this is a total light fluff piece. I'm working myself up to season premier time, and I'm really feeling the geek love lately. Anyway, I really needed a break from the angst of TIN MAN - there'll be at least one new chapter posted there tomorrow. Hope this piece isn't too silly - but I got thinking of Grissom at a disco today ( don't ask me why) and this idea popped into my head.