Rating: PG
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Category: General/Humor
Archive: FF.net and here. Anywhere else ask first, I might say yes.
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me.
Summary: Response to the Improv fanfic challenge on Unbound. Didn't mean to, but it ended up G/S. Imagine that. Good ol' fashion fluff, too. How do these things happen?
"So, how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" Brass asked.
"Huh?" Sara was collecting the gun found next to the body, and barely listening.
"That's what it says. Have you looked at this?" He was bent over, reading the handwritten note found near the body. "What the hell kind of a suicide note is that?"
Grissom walked over to take a look. "Maybe he just couldn't take the suspense. That damn woodchuck," he deadpanned, shaking his head.
Brass groaned, and Sara just kept working. Grissom watched her for a moment, but she didn't even crack a smile. "Bag that," he instructed, bobbing his head toward the note. She nodded and sealed the
weapon.
He found her hours later in QD. "Handwriting's a match. Any luck with the gun?" she asked, not making eye contact. It annoyed him. How come she didn't even look at him anymore?
"Yep, victim's prints are on it. Want to go see Al with me?"
She looked at him then, and she seemed thrown by his request. "Sure," she said finally, following his lead.
"So, how've you been?" He held the door for her as they exited CSI.
"Huh?" She turned to look at him and promptly plowed into a recycling bin. "Ow! Damn it."
He gripped her elbow, just to see if she was all right, but immediately let go when he saw her flustered, shocked face.
"I've been fine," she answered finally, rolling her eyes at her own dorkiness.
They continued walking to the coroner's office, and both of them noticed that the tension was a little stronger than usual between them.
"We haven't talked in a while. What are you doing after work?" he asked casually.
Suddenly, she forgot how to walk and talk at the same time. "W-what? I mean... um... what do you mean? About work?" Her face was twitching nervously.
"No, I mean about anything. Wanna talk?" he asked, holding the door for her again.
Sara was so confused. Did he just ask her out? "I don't--"
Doc Robbins was removing his gloves outside the autopsy room and saw them coming in. "Clear cut self-inflicted bullet wound to the head. Everything jive on your end?"
"Yeah."
"Good, I'm swamped. See ya." He handed them his preliminary results and went back to work. They both watched him walk away.
"Well, I guess this was a wasted trip," Grissom commented.
"I wouldn't say that," Sara mumbled, still confused.
Near the end of shift, Sara poked her head into Grissom's office. "Hey, I talked to the family of our vic. He was a transvestite. Really wanted to be a woman," she nodded sadly.
"Very high suicide rate." He nodded too. "Guess that note makes sense now."
"It does?" She leaned against his doorway, cocking her head.
"Sure. How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" He was smirking, and looking at her... funny. Damn, he was sexy.
"Sa-ra?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "As much wood as a woodchuck would, if a woodchuck could chuck wood." By the time she finished, she was smirking too.
"But a woodchuck can't chuck wood."
"No. And our victim couldn't be a woman." She stared into space for a moment. "When I die, there will be no mystery to solve," she announced pensively, turning and leaving the room.
He watched her go and remembered she never answered him earlier. He got up and decided to follow her, catching her just before she went in the locker room.
"Hey, you never answered me before." He came up behind her, causing her to spin around nervously. What was with him today?
He stared at her a moment, mentally checking if he really wanted to do this. Yes. He did. "Do you want to go get some breakfast?"
Sara's facial twitches returned as she tried to remain composed. "What is this?" she asked abruptly.
"What?"
"You."
"What about me?"
"Exactly," she said, nodding.
He flinched his cheeks and thought for a second. "Huh?"
"What are you doing?"
Okay, message received, Sara. "Never mind," he muttered, still staring at her. Was she serious? There really was a time when it would be too late? He didn't see that coming.
Sara stomped off toward the locker room, utterly confused and yet... curious. Was he serious? The door clicked shut behind her. She started to feel guilty before she even got to her locker. God, she
was being a bitch for no reason. It was just breakfast.
Grissom stared at the door for a minute. It was just breakfast. It didn't have to be a date, for crying out loud! He purposefully headed for the door to the locker room just as Sara barreled out of
it, smacking it into his head with a bang.
"OW! Son of a--" His hand went to his forehead, and he backed up a few feet.
"Oh my God! Are you okay?" Sara went to him, touching his arms and trying to get a look at his face.
"Yeah," he lied.
"I'm so sorry!" She couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation was. Then she saw the red mark on his head starting to swell. "Oh my God, I'll get you an ice pack."
"I'm fine!" he barked, but Sara was already off to the break room. He went into the locker room and sat down.
"Here," she said a minute later, handing him the ice pack and squatting in front of him.
He grumbled briefly when he put it to his head, and then he heard Sara giggle.
"What's so funny?"
"I don't know. It's like the gods are conspiring against us or something."
"If you'd have just said yes, we'd be in the car by now," he reminded without rancor.
Her smile widened and a slight blush crept over her face. "I'm sorry. I'll have breakfast with you."
"Good." He winced as he put the ice pack against his head.
- The End -