How to handle a crying CSI wannabe
Author: Daniela
Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Pairing: Greg/Grissom
Rating: PG
Category: Angst, Humor
Series/Sequel: No
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I love them dearly.
Summary: Missing Scene from "Bloodlines", Grissom has his hands full
Warning: Slash, M/M, Spoiler for "Bloodlines"
Feedback: Yes, please. It's the icing on my cake.
Email: daniforblue@yahoo.de
Released: June 2004
Revised: April 2025
Beta: Erika, Monika
Word Count: 1091
At the crack of dawn, Grissom strode through the lab, checking on the workflow. Only an hour ago, he had driven Sara home. State troopers had caught her because she had been driving under the influence. She had been easy to handle in her condition, yet Grissom was feeling spent by the night's events and was longing for his bed. He assumed the night shift had gone home by now but was surprised Greg was still sitting at his desk. "What are you doing here? The case's closed. You're finished with work for tonight."
Greg sniffed. His face was pale. He looked tense.
"What's wrong?"
A tear was trickling down Greg's cheek.
Grissom moved closer, patting the young man's arm. "Greg?"
Greg sniffed louder.
"Tell me what happened right now!"
Greg opened his mouth. But no words came out, instead another tear ran down his face.
Grissom stared at him.
Greg started to sob.
"For heaven's sake, what's wrong?"
Greg raised his head. "Is it my fault?"
"Is what your fault?" Grissom snapped in confusion.
"Did Todd Coombs kill that girl because of me? Because I messed up the DNA samples?"
"No, Greg," Grissom assured, bewildered. "Definitely not. Who gave you that idea?"
"Uh..." Greg cried a bit more.
"Come here." Grissom pulled him up to his feet and wrapped his arms around Greg.
Greg clung to him and wailed into Grissom's jacket.
Grissom stroked Greg's hair.
At last Greg calmed down. "Hodges."
"Hodges told you that. And you believed him? You know the guy..."
"Isn't that sweet?" A familiar sarcastic voice made Grissom jump away from Greg and whirl around in a split second.
Hodges leaned in the doorway. "Caught in the act," he leered.
"To my office now," Grissom snarled. "We need to talk."
"Sure, boss," Hodges agreed, not looking in the slightest intimidated. He even winked at the hushed Greg before he followed Grissom.
Grissom shut his office door with a bang. "Did you tell Sanders that he was responsible for the girl's death?" he accused Hodges at once.
Hodges shrugged. "I only mentioned that if the DNA from the suspect would have been a match to the sperm sample found on the victim's body, she still might have not died."
"Are you out of your mind? You know, he takes everything to heart..." Hodges' brazen smile made him stop. "What?"
"I always knew he's your favorite lab boy, but now I'm wondering..."
"Listen to me. Stop bothering Greg, or otherwise..."
"Yeah? What then?"
"You'll leave town. Understood?"
Hodges chuckled. "Sure, boss."
"What happened here today stays between you, me, and Greg. Do I make myself clear?"
Hodges nodded. "Okay. Pity though."
"Go home now or make yourself useful," Grissom ordered, seizing a bunch of files.
"Sure!" Hodges ambled out and down the hallway.
Grissom's shoulders slumped. What a mess. I should have driven home after tucking Sara into bed. I should not have forgotten where I am.
Oh yeah. He was dead-on. Grissom learned that lesson the next night.
First from Catherine, bursting into his office. "Is Greg alright?"
"What? Why? I haven't seen him tonight."
"Just checking. He looks a bit pale, so I was wondering..."
"Ask him, not me," Grissom said, sorting through his papers.
"Oh, I will."
"Anything else?"
"Not yet." She smiled and swaggered off.
She knew. Grissom sighed. Great. Now what?
Well, one hour later, he caught Nick and Warrick whispering and sniggering behind his back. Every time he turned to them, they stopped, showing him straight faces. Fed up shortly, he left them to their silly amusement. Though he was catching more quizzical glances going through the lab and therefore fled to the morgue. He thought he could find peace of mind there. He was wrong.
The usually down-to-earth Robbins greeted him with a cheerful smile. "Nice to see you, Gil. I must say, I misjudged you."
Grissom frowned. "Why's that?"
"I would never have believed that a stern man like you would ever get it on with a funny boy like Greg."
Grissom whirled around and rushed out. Yet he heard the doctor's laughter. Good thing Sara wasn't on tonight to bother him too. He couldn't bear that. Though it was a small comfort because even Brass had a part in making him never forget. "You could have told me, you know. I have no problem with you and Sanders together. He's nice and smart..."
"For God's Sake, I was only comforting him. There is nothing going on between us. Nothing. Got that?"
"If you say so."
"I do say so, and now back to what we're here for. Solving murder cases," Grissom grumbled, flushing. Well. He was angry. He did a stupid thing and now he was left holding the bag. Perhaps forever.
At sunrise he was more than glad he could drive home. His paperwork was still unfinished, but he couldn't concentrate. He had enough of being the laughingstock. Yet he didn't regret comforting Greg. His sorrow had affected him deeply. He was such a sensitive guy. It would be hard for him to be out in the field every day. For sure he would lose his endearing innocence eventually. A crying shame. He sighed. Yet nothing to do about that.
A figure appeared out of the dark, almost colliding with him. David, the assistant from the morgue. "Hello, Grissom." He beamed. "Isn't it a coincidence we meet here. I wanted to talk to you about Greg..."
Fleeing to his car, Grissom left him talking to himself.
Entering his flat after a substantial thoughtful drive, he threw his keys on the table and hung up his jacket. "Honey, I'm home," he announced sarcastically, fighting the urge to push the issue any further.
"So soon," his love answered from the kitchen. "Were you having any problems?"
"Whaddayathink? Hodges must have been on the phone the whole night. Everybody is talking about it."
"I'm sorry." Greg was entering the living room.
"No more apologizing and - no more crying," Gil scolded him. "And promise me, it will never happen in the field."
Greg grinned like a rascal. "Why not? Now that I know I can always find comfort in the arms of my supervisor."
"Don't you dare."
"But Gil..."
"You won't."
"Honey..."
"I'm not joking."
"All right. I can always turn to Nick..."
"Over my dead body," Gil grumbled and hauled him into a hug.
Greg snuggled into his arms. "Would you like to comfort me now, my dearest supervisor?"
"Only if you promise to behave, my favorite lab boy."
