Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em. Boo hoo.
Rating: PG (for implied adult situations)
Spoilers: None, really. It’s set in my own perfect little CSI world.
Challenge Requirements:
-- "What am I supposed
to do now?"
-- Mistletoe
-- The CSI team in funny hats
-- Brass in a Santa suit
-- Secret Santa gifts
THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES
Catherine leaned back in the chair and took a look around. It was perfect. All the little touches that screamed Christmas: the big tree nearly drooping under the weight of the ornaments and lights, the faint odor of bayberry and cinnamon, and the sprigs of mistletoe dangling from every single doorframe.
With a happy sigh, she moved her gaze down, letting it rest on Sara. So much had happened over the years…
“What am I supposed to do now, Gris? Huh?” Sara’s voice was low and intense. Maybe that was why it carried so clearly to Catherine over the other voices raised in an enthusiastic (if off-key) rendition of Silent Night.
Not wanting to interrupt the private scene, Catherine stayed very still.
Grissom grimaced, his confusion at Sara’s question clear. “I don’t know. I just…Sara, we can’t keep doing this. It’s affecting…our work.”
Their work? Or his? Catherine nearly gave away her hiding place at his comment. She’d seen the signs. Grissom had been distracted lately – and not his usual ‘buried in work’ cluelessness. She expected Sara to say something about that. After all, Sara wasn’t shy about defending herself.
“Whatever. I’ve been thinking of leaving anyway,” Sara said.
Catherine’s head snapped up. What the hell?
***
“I’m so glad I didn’t let Lindsey come with us.” Catherine shuddered and pointed at Greg. “What, exactly, is he wearing?”
Wendy chuckled. “All the guys have them – even Hodges. Doc Robbins wouldn’t let them into the party without them.”
That explained why Greg had the tall, almost pointed, hat on. “I feel so much better knowing that. Um…” Catherine wasn’t about to let the subject go. “Where did he get them? A costume store?”
Before Wendy could go into more detail, Sara wandered up. “Hey! Did you see the great hats Doc Robbins is handing out?”
Catherine closed her eyes, hoping the vision in front of her was the result of too much eggnog on an empty stomach. When she cracked one eye open, though, she realized she might not have had enough eggnog.
“They’re authentic German Oktoberfest hats. He’s even got some lederhosen, too.” Sara’s grin was wide and excited as she resettled the hat further down on her head.
Unable to tear her eyes away, Catherine blindly reached out and snatched a tall glass of eggnog from the tray of a passing waiter.
***
Holding her breath, Catherine waited for Sara to slit the final piece of tape. The wrapping paper slithered to the ground, and she wanted to cheer at Sara’s wide eyes and bright blush when she peered at the gift.
“Whoa! Someone’s Secret Santa knows you too well, Sar,” Warrick crowed. He bumped Nick’s shoulder. “You dog! You didn’t tell me you pulled Sara’s name for gift exchange. Man…I’da given anything to help you pick out them pants.”
Looking completely floored, Nick glanced between a grinning Warrick and Sara, who held the supple black leather pants up for everyone to admire. “I didn’t…It wasn’t me!” he protested. Then he seemed to recover his equilibrium. “Wish it had been. You’re going to look hot in those, Sara. Promise you’ll wear them to the next crime scene? I’ll let you process all the low places…”
Catherine’s glee ended abruptly.
“You’re thinking about me in those leather pants aren’t you, Cath?” Sara seemed to materialize at Catherine’s elbow. “I recognize that smirk…” Bending down, she kissed Catherine softly. “I told you not to look at the photo album before we left for the party. We don’t have time for me to dig those out of the closet and do some modeling.”
With a mock pout, Catherine closed the heavy album in her lap. “But I like remembering, honey. Especially that year…”
Sara’s eyes softened and the gap between her teeth flashed as she smiled. “Later, I promise. Right now, though, we have to keep your daughter from killing her Uncle Jim. She called, all up in arms, because he refused to wear the beard she got to go with his Santa suit.”
“Kids are such a pain,” Catherine opined. “At Lindsey’s age, I shouldn’t have to come rescue her from bad decisions anymore.” She placed the album on the end table and stood up. “Remember you also promised we wouldn’t stay long. I have other plans for tonight, too.” Waiting a beat for effect, Catherine slipped her arms into the coat Sara held out for her. “While I was hunting for the photos, I unearthed one of my old dancing costumes…”