CSI ficlets
First, for zoemargaret:
“You’ve worn a skirt?” Sara asked incredulously, taking another swig of her beer.
“Yeah,” Greg replied in a ‘hasn’t everybody’ tone, sipping his own highly alcoholic drink. He was on his third and lounging loose-limbed in the booth, leg and arm just so casually pressed up against Nick.
Sara looked at him again and shook her head. “You wore a skirt of your own free will.”
“Yeah, every guy has at some time or another. Nick has.”
"Hey, that was pledging. Every frat guy has worn some sort of women’s clothing, but it was hardly the freest of free will,” Nick protested. “And I don’t go around announcing it to the world.”
“When was this?” Sara asked, focused on Greg again. “Are we talking high school, college, last month?”
Greg waved his hand vaguely. “Yes.”
“And you knew about this?” she asked Nick.
“He thinks it’s sexy,” Greg said before Nick could open his mouth. Nick turned bright red and Sara clapped a hand over her mouth, her own cheeks pink.
“Whoa, way too much information. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Sorry you asked what?” Warrick asked, sliding into the booth beside Sara, Catherine behind him.
“Nothing,” Sara and Nick chorused and Greg grinned. Nick squeezed his leg under the table as he opened his mouth. “No sex for a week,” he hissed. Greg obediently shut his mouth, smiled angelically and reached for his drink.
And for girlnorth .
“Come on, Greg! Outta the park!” Nick hollered.
“Send me home, Greg!” Sara called from second base as Ecklie wound up and pitched. It whizzed past Greg and Doc Robbins called a strike from behind the plate. Greg swung nervously before stepping back into the batter’s box, but he squared his shoulders and took his stance as Ecklie pitched again.
Greg swung and connected, sending it to fall in shallow left field and Sara took off, taking the corner to home plate as he raced to first. He had left for second when Karen from Trace, dayshift, caught the cut off and blocked his path to the base. He skidded to a halt and backpedalled. She menaced him with it, feigning the throw once, twice, before throwing it to Adam behind Greg at first. Greg tore for second, but he felt Karen’s glove hit him in the back as he dove for the base.
“Out!” Janice, the dayshift coroner, called from her place as field umpire and the dayshift team cheered. Greg picked himself up and trudged back to the dugout, wiping dust off his t-shirt. He entered the nightshift’s dugout and passed his helmet to David, who patted him on the shoulder.
“Good work, man,” Nick said, coming over with a bottle of water.
“I was tagged out,” Greg informed him.
“But you managed to get Sara in for the run. That bought us a lead they’ll never be able to come back from.”
“Yeah?” Greg looked up from brushing off his shirt and took the water.
“Yeah.” Nick began brushing at the shoulders of Greg’s shirt, hands warm and pressing just a bit more than necessary and Greg leaned back into the almost massage. Then, Warrick slammed the ball over the centrefield wall and the graveyard team erupted into cheers. Nick gave Greg’s shoulders a last squeeze and picked up a helmet as Warrick returned to the team.
Greg grinned at him and drank his water, watching Nick’s forearms and shoulders as he hefted the bat and took his spot at the plate. Baseball wasn’t such a bad sport, really.
“You’ve worn a skirt?” Sara asked incredulously, taking another swig of her beer.
“Yeah,” Greg replied in a ‘hasn’t everybody’ tone, sipping his own highly alcoholic drink. He was on his third and lounging loose-limbed in the booth, leg and arm just so casually pressed up against Nick.
Sara looked at him again and shook her head. “You wore a skirt of your own free will.”
“Yeah, every guy has at some time or another. Nick has.”
"Hey, that was pledging. Every frat guy has worn some sort of women’s clothing, but it was hardly the freest of free will,” Nick protested. “And I don’t go around announcing it to the world.”
“When was this?” Sara asked, focused on Greg again. “Are we talking high school, college, last month?”
Greg waved his hand vaguely. “Yes.”
“And you knew about this?” she asked Nick.
“He thinks it’s sexy,” Greg said before Nick could open his mouth. Nick turned bright red and Sara clapped a hand over her mouth, her own cheeks pink.
“Whoa, way too much information. I’m sorry I asked.”
“Sorry you asked what?” Warrick asked, sliding into the booth beside Sara, Catherine behind him.
“Nothing,” Sara and Nick chorused and Greg grinned. Nick squeezed his leg under the table as he opened his mouth. “No sex for a week,” he hissed. Greg obediently shut his mouth, smiled angelically and reached for his drink.
And for girlnorth .
“Come on, Greg! Outta the park!” Nick hollered.
“Send me home, Greg!” Sara called from second base as Ecklie wound up and pitched. It whizzed past Greg and Doc Robbins called a strike from behind the plate. Greg swung nervously before stepping back into the batter’s box, but he squared his shoulders and took his stance as Ecklie pitched again.
Greg swung and connected, sending it to fall in shallow left field and Sara took off, taking the corner to home plate as he raced to first. He had left for second when Karen from Trace, dayshift, caught the cut off and blocked his path to the base. He skidded to a halt and backpedalled. She menaced him with it, feigning the throw once, twice, before throwing it to Adam behind Greg at first. Greg tore for second, but he felt Karen’s glove hit him in the back as he dove for the base.
“Out!” Janice, the dayshift coroner, called from her place as field umpire and the dayshift team cheered. Greg picked himself up and trudged back to the dugout, wiping dust off his t-shirt. He entered the nightshift’s dugout and passed his helmet to David, who patted him on the shoulder.
“Good work, man,” Nick said, coming over with a bottle of water.
“I was tagged out,” Greg informed him.
“But you managed to get Sara in for the run. That bought us a lead they’ll never be able to come back from.”
“Yeah?” Greg looked up from brushing off his shirt and took the water.
“Yeah.” Nick began brushing at the shoulders of Greg’s shirt, hands warm and pressing just a bit more than necessary and Greg leaned back into the almost massage. Then, Warrick slammed the ball over the centrefield wall and the graveyard team erupted into cheers. Nick gave Greg’s shoulders a last squeeze and picked up a helmet as Warrick returned to the team.
Greg grinned at him and drank his water, watching Nick’s forearms and shoulders as he hefted the bat and took his spot at the plate. Baseball wasn’t such a bad sport, really.