(no subject)
Title: Talisman 9/?
Rating: Hard R
Series: CSI/Angel
Pairing: Greg/Grissom, Greg/Wesley
Timeline: Wesley in his dark place and corresponding season of CSI
Summary: It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone's gonna get laid.
Warning: beta'd only by me. When done it will be shipped off to someone else to have its ass kicked in its entirety.
Author’s note: The Sandershmeed Talisman is henceforth renamed the Hajimheed Talisman. Bonus points if you can figure out why. :)
Previous parts can be found here.
Grissom appears out of nowhere, gloves in hand. “May I?”
Greg nods and Wesley relinquishes the talisman to Grissom.
“Is this the genuine article?” Grissom asks, looking at it carefully. “I didn’t get a good look at it the other night.”
Greg shrugs, trying to maintain the same type of professional mask Grissom seems to be able to don without a second thought. “It looks like it, as for the rest of it, I’m not in a position to be able to tell.”
“I’ve got some things back at my hotel room that should help with that.” Wesley says, still examining the talisman.
Catherine steps into the fray. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. You,” she points at Wesley, “Are helping Greg find some family heirloom that he lost and you,” she points at Grissom, “have not only seen this heirloom before, but have most obviously met one Mr. Wyndham Pryce before and you,” she points at Greg, “are randomly arrested for murdering someone whom we spent most of the night attempting to connect to you in some form or another and came up short, other than the fingerprint that is and *then* when you get released, suddenly the item which you obviously cared deeply enough about to ask for outside help, appears out of nowhere?”
Grissom’s head tilts, as if considering everything she said. “Sounds about right.”
Catherine’s eyes narrow. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Nick steps in, he too has changed from friend to CSI without preamble. “Should we process it?”
Grissom stares at Greg, Greg glances at Wesley, who shrugs.
“It can’t hurt.” Greg says finally.
Grissom puts the chain and pendant into an evidence bag that too, seemingly miraculously appears. “I’ll take care of it.”
Greg watches Grissom bag it and tag it and frowns slightly as he sees him smudge up the writing. Grissom raises his eyes and catches Greg’s, then shakes his head.
Ok, later then.
“The rest of you have cases to work, shift doesn’t end for another 2 hours, let’s not lose any more ground tonight.” Grissom dismisses them.
Sara catches a detective she needs to talk to as he passes by and she’s off and running. Warrick gives him another pat on the back and a meaningful stare before he too, goes off to do his thing and whatever that look means, Greg has no idea.
Nick gives Grissom the eye before mentioning something about some trace he has to follow up on. Catherine lasts the longest of all, going so far as to ask, “Sure you don’t need any help on this? The Sheriff’s been all over it from the moment Greg’s prints were lifted.”
Grissom shakes his head. “The best thing you can do right now is keep your cases moving.”
Catherine raises a suspicious eyebrow and mutters, “If this is you trying to get out of personnel reviews again, I am going to kill you.” But she walks away anyway.
When its just the three of them left, the temperature drops about thirty degrees.
“I didn’t want to say it in front of the others,” Wesley says, “but I can tell you right now if that’s the real deal or not.”
Grissom eyes Wesley warily. “Do you need to touch it?”
“Gloves will be fine.” Wesley holds out a hand.
Grissom hands him an unused glove, waits for him to put it on and then carefully spills out the contents of the evidence bag.
Wesley pulls Greg off to the side, Grissom follows hot on their heels.
Greg watches Wesley does the same rigomoral he did the other night in the car and he flushes remembering that while they did, in essence break the spell, safer is better than sorry.
Grissom watches intensely as it becomes apparent that the charm is doing nothing more than dangling there pathetically.
“It’s a fake.” Wesley pronounces, dropping it back into the bag.
Grissom snatches it back like he’s afraid Wesley’s going to pocket it anyway. Greg sends him a funny look and Grissom obviously makes an effort to relax. “Next step is to figure out who put it in with your things.”
“I’ll continue to flush out who took the real one.” Wesley says. “I’ve found that lure we were talking about, I spent most of my time visiting various marketplaces looking to sell.”
Greg is surprised. “That was fast.”
Wesley crosses his arms. “I’m used to working under a time limit, besides, I figured you’d want me out of your hair as soon as possible.” He gives Greg a knowing look.
Greg’s eyes widen and he flicks to Grissom for half a second. “Hey, I thought I told you not to worry.”
Wesley smirks. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
Oh. Greg gets an image of the two of them sitting across from each other in an interrogation room, spitting barbs under the guise of civility. He blinks, yowza.
Grissom’s eyes narrow. “Greg, how would you like some practical experience lifting trace from a piece of evidence.”
Greg turns to Wesley, but doesn’t even get a chance to ask the question.
“I don’t expect a response for at least another day.” Wesley points at the fake talisman. “I’m far more worried about where that came from, at the moment.”
Grissom nods. “Something we agree on.”
Greg wonders if it’s the first thing all night.
*****
Grissom once again assumes the professorial role, keeping a running commentary on everything they do. Greg tries not to remember that really hot Molecular Biology professor that had him doing extra credit all semester.
Greg somehow manages to take a clean print the back of the fake, he’s surprised when Grissom gestures for him to sit down in the chair in front of the computer. He scans the image in and waits for instructions.
Grissom leans over his shoulder and points to various whorls and arches and bit and pieces that make a fingerprint unique and Greg for the most part concentrates.
They’re not surprised that the only clean print comes back as the officer on duty who processed Greg’s things. They still make a note to speak to her.
After Grissom’s initial instructions on what to look for on the chain, a heavy silence descends as Grissom turns to the charm.
Greg gets lost in the individual links of the chain and nearly jumps out of his skin when Grissom slides up behind him and asks, “Find anything?”
Greg loses his balance and flails a bit until Grissom’s solid grip steadies him. The end up pressed against each other, arms tangling. They freeze momentarily before Grissom releases him and takes several steps away.
Greg watches him and when he says nothing, he speaks. “This is really freaking you out, isn’t it?” Its said without reproach or chastisement.
Grissom runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” He takes a chair and sits down with the table between them. “That was entirely inappropriate of me.”
“Stopping me from falling on my ass?” Greg asks, skeptical.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been unconsciously encroaching on your personal space, I was confrontational while interviewing Wesley, I think I scared Nicky half to death at one point, yelling at him when he startled me out of a day dream I shouldn’t have been having in the first place.” Grissom looks at him and lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s freaking me out.”
Greg really wasn’t expecting Grissom to actually admit it, so it takes him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I think this is where I remind you that you’re human.”
Grissom gives him a half smile and reaches for a file. “These are the one to ones that were shot for the murder you were arrested for.” He spreads them out on the table in front of them.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch any evidence relating to the case?” Greg asks, staring at the photos.
“Then don’t touch.” Grissom points to a specific photo. “That’s the knife we found your print on, recognize it?”
Greg stares at it, tilting his head in recognition. “Wait a minute...” He squints at the photo.
Grissom leans in eagerly. “You actually recognize it?”
He compresses his lips and nods “That looks like the knife that I used at the diner.”
“What diner?” Grissom presses.
“After I--” he stops short, deciding on a different tactic, very aware of Grissom’s balanced state. “Before I met you for target practice, I had dinner a small place off the strip.”
Grissom nods. “You go there often?”
Greg shrugs. “Not regularly, but a couple times a month maybe.”
Grissom pulls out the coroner’s report. “Wesley’s confirmation of your alibi helped, but what really got you off the hook was what Doc Robbins found.” He turns the report around so Greg can read it. “The knife was used post mortem to disguise the bullet wound. What actually killed our victim.” He clarifies.
Greg stares at the report, mystified. “Someone is setting me up.”
“Probably the same person who planted that fake back in with your things.” Grissom confirms.
“Maybe its time to talk to Officer Florres.” Greg suggests.
Grissom purses his lips and nods.
****
The officer was just coming of shift when they caught her. Greg opts to stay in the background and out of the way of the questions.
Florres is putting her limp blonde hair into a messy pony tale when Grissom corners her. He flashes the charm at her and she examines it closely.
“Oh yeah, I remember that. Was in the middle of the paperwork to turn Sander’s stuff from evidence back into personal affects when the Sheriff speeds past.” She shifts from one foot to another. “Then he stops like someone hit the brakes too fast, nearly runs over some poor rookie. Scared the crap out of him. Anyway, he bends down and picks up an evidence packet and throws it at me, telling me I should be more careful. Things like that can cause lawsuits.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I looked at the label, said it came from same pack I was working on, I figured it fell off the counter when I spilled the contents out.”
Grissom is listening intently and furrows his brows. “Nothing seemed off about it?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, it happens occasionally. I’m just not lucky enough to be corrected by Atwater everyday.” Florres looks vaguely insulted at the implication she can’t do her job.
Grissom thanks her for her help and lets her go.
“So we have nothing.” Greg sighs.
Grissom shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I think we have something, we just don’t know what.”
Greg really didn’t think his day could get worse. He checks his watch and decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “Let’s get dinner.” He says. Grissom casts Greg a look that makes him think he’s trying to read his mind. “Come on, we can talk about work if you want.”
Grissom sighs. “Let me get my things.”
*****
Grissom drives, since Greg’s car is still in its parking spot near his apartment. He takes Greg to a small italian place, that’s not quite classy enough to make him feel weird in his jeans and t-shirt. Well, Wesley’s shirt.
Which is a thought he decides not to have again.
They order dinner and stare at each other.
“Ok, I’ll start.” Greg says. “How are you?”
Grissom hides behind his water glass. “I thought we were going to talk about work.”
“I lied.” Greg waggles his eyebrows before getting more serious. “So, you’re freaking out, less or more than yesterday?” It’s absolutely amazing to be an expert in something that Grissom doesn’t have a clue about.
Grissom makes that face, the one that looks like a chipmunk trying to decide what cheek to hide the goods in. “More and less I suppose.”
Greg nods. “Good answer.”
Grissom rests his elbows on the table. “Are we dating?” He asks.
Greg chokes on his water, making him cough violently for a few seconds.
Grissom waits serenely until he finishes. “We’re about to share our third meal in as many days together.” He says conversationally. “You’ve cooked for me, I’ve cooked for you, I imagine there will be an awkward moment over the bill later tonight that wouldn’t happen if we were just two friends or acquaintances eating out.” He leans in a bit more, bringing his voice to a whisper. “And then of course there’s the rest of it.”
Greg decides he is wrong. The day can get worse. He really misses when Grissom let him control the conversations on some level. “Well,” he considers, “do you want to be dating?” He throws the question back.
Grissom thinks about it. “It would certainly make me feel more comfortable about some of the more irrational reactions I’ve had towards Mr. Windham Pryce.”
Raising an eyebrow Greg considers the reasoning, but shakes his head. “That’s not a good enough answer.” Because dating his boss, dating Grissom is just as freak worthy in his mind. And has just as much potential to explode in one of several directions. “I won’t be a crutch, something to hold onto while you wrap your head around this and to leave behind when you’re done.”
Grissom nods, acceding the point. “I want to stop feeling incredibly foolish for no reason.” He says after several seconds.
“Instead you want to feel incredibly foolish for a good reason?” Greg asks.
Grissom nods again.
“I can live with that.” Greg answers, fairly sure he means it.
Rating: Hard R
Series: CSI/Angel
Pairing: Greg/Grissom, Greg/Wesley
Timeline: Wesley in his dark place and corresponding season of CSI
Summary: It’s the end of the world as we know it, but someone's gonna get laid.
Warning: beta'd only by me. When done it will be shipped off to someone else to have its ass kicked in its entirety.
Author’s note: The Sandershmeed Talisman is henceforth renamed the Hajimheed Talisman. Bonus points if you can figure out why. :)
Previous parts can be found here.
Grissom appears out of nowhere, gloves in hand. “May I?”
Greg nods and Wesley relinquishes the talisman to Grissom.
“Is this the genuine article?” Grissom asks, looking at it carefully. “I didn’t get a good look at it the other night.”
Greg shrugs, trying to maintain the same type of professional mask Grissom seems to be able to don without a second thought. “It looks like it, as for the rest of it, I’m not in a position to be able to tell.”
“I’ve got some things back at my hotel room that should help with that.” Wesley says, still examining the talisman.
Catherine steps into the fray. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. You,” she points at Wesley, “Are helping Greg find some family heirloom that he lost and you,” she points at Grissom, “have not only seen this heirloom before, but have most obviously met one Mr. Wyndham Pryce before and you,” she points at Greg, “are randomly arrested for murdering someone whom we spent most of the night attempting to connect to you in some form or another and came up short, other than the fingerprint that is and *then* when you get released, suddenly the item which you obviously cared deeply enough about to ask for outside help, appears out of nowhere?”
Grissom’s head tilts, as if considering everything she said. “Sounds about right.”
Catherine’s eyes narrow. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
Nick steps in, he too has changed from friend to CSI without preamble. “Should we process it?”
Grissom stares at Greg, Greg glances at Wesley, who shrugs.
“It can’t hurt.” Greg says finally.
Grissom puts the chain and pendant into an evidence bag that too, seemingly miraculously appears. “I’ll take care of it.”
Greg watches Grissom bag it and tag it and frowns slightly as he sees him smudge up the writing. Grissom raises his eyes and catches Greg’s, then shakes his head.
Ok, later then.
“The rest of you have cases to work, shift doesn’t end for another 2 hours, let’s not lose any more ground tonight.” Grissom dismisses them.
Sara catches a detective she needs to talk to as he passes by and she’s off and running. Warrick gives him another pat on the back and a meaningful stare before he too, goes off to do his thing and whatever that look means, Greg has no idea.
Nick gives Grissom the eye before mentioning something about some trace he has to follow up on. Catherine lasts the longest of all, going so far as to ask, “Sure you don’t need any help on this? The Sheriff’s been all over it from the moment Greg’s prints were lifted.”
Grissom shakes his head. “The best thing you can do right now is keep your cases moving.”
Catherine raises a suspicious eyebrow and mutters, “If this is you trying to get out of personnel reviews again, I am going to kill you.” But she walks away anyway.
When its just the three of them left, the temperature drops about thirty degrees.
“I didn’t want to say it in front of the others,” Wesley says, “but I can tell you right now if that’s the real deal or not.”
Grissom eyes Wesley warily. “Do you need to touch it?”
“Gloves will be fine.” Wesley holds out a hand.
Grissom hands him an unused glove, waits for him to put it on and then carefully spills out the contents of the evidence bag.
Wesley pulls Greg off to the side, Grissom follows hot on their heels.
Greg watches Wesley does the same rigomoral he did the other night in the car and he flushes remembering that while they did, in essence break the spell, safer is better than sorry.
Grissom watches intensely as it becomes apparent that the charm is doing nothing more than dangling there pathetically.
“It’s a fake.” Wesley pronounces, dropping it back into the bag.
Grissom snatches it back like he’s afraid Wesley’s going to pocket it anyway. Greg sends him a funny look and Grissom obviously makes an effort to relax. “Next step is to figure out who put it in with your things.”
“I’ll continue to flush out who took the real one.” Wesley says. “I’ve found that lure we were talking about, I spent most of my time visiting various marketplaces looking to sell.”
Greg is surprised. “That was fast.”
Wesley crosses his arms. “I’m used to working under a time limit, besides, I figured you’d want me out of your hair as soon as possible.” He gives Greg a knowing look.
Greg’s eyes widen and he flicks to Grissom for half a second. “Hey, I thought I told you not to worry.”
Wesley smirks. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
Oh. Greg gets an image of the two of them sitting across from each other in an interrogation room, spitting barbs under the guise of civility. He blinks, yowza.
Grissom’s eyes narrow. “Greg, how would you like some practical experience lifting trace from a piece of evidence.”
Greg turns to Wesley, but doesn’t even get a chance to ask the question.
“I don’t expect a response for at least another day.” Wesley points at the fake talisman. “I’m far more worried about where that came from, at the moment.”
Grissom nods. “Something we agree on.”
Greg wonders if it’s the first thing all night.
*****
Grissom once again assumes the professorial role, keeping a running commentary on everything they do. Greg tries not to remember that really hot Molecular Biology professor that had him doing extra credit all semester.
Greg somehow manages to take a clean print the back of the fake, he’s surprised when Grissom gestures for him to sit down in the chair in front of the computer. He scans the image in and waits for instructions.
Grissom leans over his shoulder and points to various whorls and arches and bit and pieces that make a fingerprint unique and Greg for the most part concentrates.
They’re not surprised that the only clean print comes back as the officer on duty who processed Greg’s things. They still make a note to speak to her.
After Grissom’s initial instructions on what to look for on the chain, a heavy silence descends as Grissom turns to the charm.
Greg gets lost in the individual links of the chain and nearly jumps out of his skin when Grissom slides up behind him and asks, “Find anything?”
Greg loses his balance and flails a bit until Grissom’s solid grip steadies him. The end up pressed against each other, arms tangling. They freeze momentarily before Grissom releases him and takes several steps away.
Greg watches him and when he says nothing, he speaks. “This is really freaking you out, isn’t it?” Its said without reproach or chastisement.
Grissom runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.” He takes a chair and sits down with the table between them. “That was entirely inappropriate of me.”
“Stopping me from falling on my ass?” Greg asks, skeptical.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been unconsciously encroaching on your personal space, I was confrontational while interviewing Wesley, I think I scared Nicky half to death at one point, yelling at him when he startled me out of a day dream I shouldn’t have been having in the first place.” Grissom looks at him and lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s freaking me out.”
Greg really wasn’t expecting Grissom to actually admit it, so it takes him a moment to collect his thoughts. “I think this is where I remind you that you’re human.”
Grissom gives him a half smile and reaches for a file. “These are the one to ones that were shot for the murder you were arrested for.” He spreads them out on the table in front of them.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch any evidence relating to the case?” Greg asks, staring at the photos.
“Then don’t touch.” Grissom points to a specific photo. “That’s the knife we found your print on, recognize it?”
Greg stares at it, tilting his head in recognition. “Wait a minute...” He squints at the photo.
Grissom leans in eagerly. “You actually recognize it?”
He compresses his lips and nods “That looks like the knife that I used at the diner.”
“What diner?” Grissom presses.
“After I--” he stops short, deciding on a different tactic, very aware of Grissom’s balanced state. “Before I met you for target practice, I had dinner a small place off the strip.”
Grissom nods. “You go there often?”
Greg shrugs. “Not regularly, but a couple times a month maybe.”
Grissom pulls out the coroner’s report. “Wesley’s confirmation of your alibi helped, but what really got you off the hook was what Doc Robbins found.” He turns the report around so Greg can read it. “The knife was used post mortem to disguise the bullet wound. What actually killed our victim.” He clarifies.
Greg stares at the report, mystified. “Someone is setting me up.”
“Probably the same person who planted that fake back in with your things.” Grissom confirms.
“Maybe its time to talk to Officer Florres.” Greg suggests.
Grissom purses his lips and nods.
****
The officer was just coming of shift when they caught her. Greg opts to stay in the background and out of the way of the questions.
Florres is putting her limp blonde hair into a messy pony tale when Grissom corners her. He flashes the charm at her and she examines it closely.
“Oh yeah, I remember that. Was in the middle of the paperwork to turn Sander’s stuff from evidence back into personal affects when the Sheriff speeds past.” She shifts from one foot to another. “Then he stops like someone hit the brakes too fast, nearly runs over some poor rookie. Scared the crap out of him. Anyway, he bends down and picks up an evidence packet and throws it at me, telling me I should be more careful. Things like that can cause lawsuits.” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I looked at the label, said it came from same pack I was working on, I figured it fell off the counter when I spilled the contents out.”
Grissom is listening intently and furrows his brows. “Nothing seemed off about it?”
She shakes her head. “Nah, it happens occasionally. I’m just not lucky enough to be corrected by Atwater everyday.” Florres looks vaguely insulted at the implication she can’t do her job.
Grissom thanks her for her help and lets her go.
“So we have nothing.” Greg sighs.
Grissom shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I think we have something, we just don’t know what.”
Greg really didn’t think his day could get worse. He checks his watch and decides he’s got nothing left to lose. “Let’s get dinner.” He says. Grissom casts Greg a look that makes him think he’s trying to read his mind. “Come on, we can talk about work if you want.”
Grissom sighs. “Let me get my things.”
*****
Grissom drives, since Greg’s car is still in its parking spot near his apartment. He takes Greg to a small italian place, that’s not quite classy enough to make him feel weird in his jeans and t-shirt. Well, Wesley’s shirt.
Which is a thought he decides not to have again.
They order dinner and stare at each other.
“Ok, I’ll start.” Greg says. “How are you?”
Grissom hides behind his water glass. “I thought we were going to talk about work.”
“I lied.” Greg waggles his eyebrows before getting more serious. “So, you’re freaking out, less or more than yesterday?” It’s absolutely amazing to be an expert in something that Grissom doesn’t have a clue about.
Grissom makes that face, the one that looks like a chipmunk trying to decide what cheek to hide the goods in. “More and less I suppose.”
Greg nods. “Good answer.”
Grissom rests his elbows on the table. “Are we dating?” He asks.
Greg chokes on his water, making him cough violently for a few seconds.
Grissom waits serenely until he finishes. “We’re about to share our third meal in as many days together.” He says conversationally. “You’ve cooked for me, I’ve cooked for you, I imagine there will be an awkward moment over the bill later tonight that wouldn’t happen if we were just two friends or acquaintances eating out.” He leans in a bit more, bringing his voice to a whisper. “And then of course there’s the rest of it.”
Greg decides he is wrong. The day can get worse. He really misses when Grissom let him control the conversations on some level. “Well,” he considers, “do you want to be dating?” He throws the question back.
Grissom thinks about it. “It would certainly make me feel more comfortable about some of the more irrational reactions I’ve had towards Mr. Windham Pryce.”
Raising an eyebrow Greg considers the reasoning, but shakes his head. “That’s not a good enough answer.” Because dating his boss, dating Grissom is just as freak worthy in his mind. And has just as much potential to explode in one of several directions. “I won’t be a crutch, something to hold onto while you wrap your head around this and to leave behind when you’re done.”
Grissom nods, acceding the point. “I want to stop feeling incredibly foolish for no reason.” He says after several seconds.
“Instead you want to feel incredibly foolish for a good reason?” Greg asks.
Grissom nods again.
“I can live with that.” Greg answers, fairly sure he means it.