(A/N: Uses the hilarious alcohol warnings list found over the internet.)
Catherine wrinkled her nose when she walked into the bar behind Greg. “Are you sure you wanna bring us all in here?” She felt Gil’s hand on her back, and smiled.
Greg nodded. “Yeah! Of course! They have the best drinks... and karaoke starts in just a little while!” He bounced before turning and facing Catherine, Gil, Warrick, Nick, and Sara. “You guys promised to take me somewhere I like for my birthday... this place really is the shit.”
Gil shrugged, indifferent. Warrick didn’t look too comfortable, but he gave in. Sara grinned and nodded, stepping past them all. Nick also seemed enthusiastic. Catherine raised her hands. “Alright, Greg. Next time I pick the place though,” she grinned up at Gil and whispered in his ear. “Give it twenty minutes. If it’s awful, we’ll sneak out, party be damned.”
He smirked. They all walked in and picked one of the large tables along the wall, part of the seats built into a booth, the other part composed of lose chairs. Catherine slid into the booth, and Gil followed her so he would be on the outside—easy escape, she assumed. Warrick slid into the booth on the other side, and Sara followed him. Nick sat in the chair next to Gil, and Greg sat next to Sara.
When the waitress came by and asked them what they wanted, Greg started speaking before anyone had a chance to: “We’ll each have a Brass Monkey, and—” he pointed at Sara and Warrick: “—she’ll have a Ballistic Missile, and he’ll have a Mac Daddy—” he then pointed to Catherine and Gil: “—she’ll have a Blue-Eyed Blonde, and he’ll have a Beowulf—” he nudged to Nick: “—he’ll have a Wet Dream, and I’ll get an Irishman’s Deepthroat.”
The purple-haired woman smiled, finished writing the order down, and walked away. They all stared at Greg. Catherine was dying to know what he ordered everyone. Gil spoke first: “Greg, I find it interesting that you know what we all like to drink, without asking us first.”
He blushed a little. “Trust me. This place has the best drinks.”
Warrick leaned in. “What the hell was all that?”
Greg chuckled. “Well, the Brass Monkey... I figured in honour of Jim, cuz he’s usually with you guys, but not tonight... has rum, orange juice, and vodka, I think. It’s pretty good. Sometimes they put this fizzy stuff—” He trailed off, but quickly jumped back in. “Mac Daddy: cherry liqueur and gin and some fruity stuff. Ballistic Missile has Amaretto and Grand Marnier in it. Wet Dream has Southern Comfort, cranberry, lemon, and coconut rum in it. The Blue-Eyed Blonde looks so cool in the shot glass: banana liqueur, curacao, and irish cream—wait till you see it.... and the Beowulf, well, I thought that was right up your alley, Grissom—blue curacao and vodka. Sounds strong, I know, but after the Brass Monkey, you won’t feel a thing.” He took a deep breath. “Mine has irish cream and sambuca in it.”
Catherine raised an eyebrow, while Nick turned in and asked in a surprised voice: “How do you know all this, man?”
Greg shrugged. “University, I guess.”
Warrick tapped his fingers on the table nervously. Catherine shot him a comforting smile. “This had better be decent, Sanders.”
As if on cue, the waitress showed up with the tray of drinks and shots. Greg handed her enough money to leave her a decent tip, and she served them all. Catherine glanced down at her shot; it did look interesting, she had to admit. She looked up and saw Gil watching her; her cheeks reddened in response. “It looks cool,” she shrugged. “Shots or drink first?”
Sara looked at the smiling blonde. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him.”
Nick teased. “You just don’t want us to see you drunk.”
Greg pleaded. “C’mon guys... this is a once in a lifetime chance. We never get to go out together...” He picked his shot glass up. “C’mon... you know you all want to...”
Nick held his up, next. Then, Warrick and Sara. Catherine joined the group after that, and Gil glanced once at her and surrendered. They clicked their shot glasses together, and slammed the first drinks of many back.
Catherine’s throat burned in response to the strong liqueurs. She licked her lips, and grinned, picking up the cocktail in front of her. “Cheers, guys!”
~*~
((....an hour later....))
Gil’s body was buzzing. On second thought, he decided, it was on fire. Between the alcohol and his proximity to Catherine, he was definitely on fire. He watched Sara and Warrick laughing at something Nick had said, and smiled himself; he hadn’t seen the team having this much fun together in a long time.
The bar was filling up with people, he noticed, but nobody paid them any attention. Catherine lifted her body up a little out of her seat on the booth, waving at the waitress that had been serving them all night. She glanced at Greg once, who was mouthing something to her, and then she told the woman with the vivid hair: “We’ll each have Three Wisemen.”
He sat back and listened to Greg’s explanation of the drink. Three shots. Jack Daniel's, Jim Beam, and Cuervo Gold. He felt his stomach twitch.
Greg leaned over the table, and asked Sara: “Ever play Kings, Sara?”
She wiped at her cheek. “God, say it, don’t spray it, Sanders.” Everyone laughed. She then looked at him and nodded. “Yeah... I have. But we don’t have cards here, do we?”
Greg frowned. “Damn. I knew I forgot something.”
“Why not just something simple?” Catherine leaned forward and suggested. “Like Truth or Dare?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he sat back and watched the interesting reactions happening between Sara and Warrick; he never would’ve pictured them as a couple, but he could see it when they were in front of him, loosening up. Warrick dipped his head by her ear and whispered something; Gil watched Sara’s eyes darken. Then, she nodded and grinned. He wondered what she was approving.
Nick spoke next: “Sounds great. Who’s first?”
Greg raised his hands as the waitress came back. “Ooh! Ooh! Me!”
Nick looked him in the eye and winked. “Alright, Greggo, you can go first.”
The lab technician rubbed his hands together. “Sexcellent...” He eyed them all, and settled on Sara: “Sara Sidle, truth or dare?”
She grinned. “Dare.”
Greg handed her a piece of lemon. “I dare you to make your tequila shot a body shot.” Catherine giggled, Nick clapped, and Warrick cheered her on. “Pick your body, and take the shot.”
Gil watched Sara glance between Greg, Nick, and Warrick twice before making her decision. He wasn’t very hurt that she didn’t consider him; he was relieved to know her affections fell elsewhere. She looked at Warrick and told him: “Open your mouth.” When he did, she set the lemon slice’s rind on his lower lip; he closed his mouth and held it there. With a nervous laugh, she unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt. Gil watched in fascination as she dipped her head and licked his chest and neck, then took the shot, and then pressed her mouth to his to steal the lemon. The others praised her, while she gently shoved the blushing Warrick.
Sara then asked Nick, who chose Truth: “Leather or Lace?”
“Neither,” he grinned, taking one of his shots. “Gets in the way.” Catherine clapped in approval. Nick then looked at Warrick and asked him: “Truth or dare, bro?”
The darker male smiled. “I think I’ll take Truth this time.”
Gil didn’t hear the question, but he heard the answer: “Bathroom in a bar. Think it was called Radar. They had these great handles on the—”
Nick raised his hands in protest: “No more details... please.”
Greg offered him his hand, which he slapped. Then, Warrick took his shot, and turned to Catherine: “Truth or dare, blue-eyed blonde?”
She grinned. “Truth.”
“What happened the last time you got this trashed?”
She muttered something with a downcast face. Nick reached for her chin and gently persuaded her to face the group. “Say it again, Mizz Willows?”
Catherine sighed. Gil watched her face; her cheeks flushed while she bit her lip nervously, and darted her eyes back and forth. “Well, the last time I got this trashed, I ended up dancing on a bar, doing my best encore performance, and then I woke up in a strange apartment on the other side of town.” She finished the answer off with two of her shots. Greg and Nick cheered her on.
Sara looked completely shocked: “You didn’t tell me that!” She turned to Warrick: “Where were you when she did the dancing thing? I had told you to watch her!”
He chuckled nervously. “She told me she had everything under control. I, too, was under the influence, not participatin’ in ‘Team Sober-Fun,’ if you recall.”
She rolled her eyes and shoved him again. “Okay... Catherine, go ahead.”
Gil jumped when he felt Catherine’s arm wrap around his shoulders. “Gil, baby, truth or dare?”
He glanced at her. “I, um, I thought I was invisible.. I really don’t wanna play.”
Greg pointed towards his shots. “Take one. Punishment for refusing a beautiful lady.”
She looked at him. “You heard him. Drink up. And then you can answer my question.”
He winced after taking the shot of Jack Daniel's. “Dare.”
Sara and Nick cheered. “Way to pick, Gris!”
Warrick smirked. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
When he saw Catherine’s grin, he was beginning to think Warrick was right. She rubbed her hands together and licked her lips. “I dare you to dance with me.” She nodded towards the dance floor. “Right now.”
He groaned. He knew Warrick had been right, cursing hindsight briefly before bargaining: “One song, only, Cath.”
“That’s fine,” she said, waving to the group and dragging Gil up at the same time. The others were all clapping and laughing; he didn’t know if they were laughing with him, as he chuckled nervously, or at him, because they knew he couldn’t dance. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to stand Catherine dancing around him; she was a great dancer, and she was even sexier when she danced.
Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and started swaying to the music. He struggled to keep up. “Cath, I really can’t dance.”
“I know,” she grinned playfully, while he felt her hands slide down until they were in the back pockets of his dark jeans. “That’s why we’re out here. You’re getting a free lesson.” While grinding her hips against him, she pushed him from behind. He moaned softly. She laughed. “I like that you react.”
He gulped. “Why?”
“It’s fun... I like knowing I make you moan.”
He pressed his lips together, and tried to think, while trying to keep up with her body’s movements. “Two can play at that game, Cath.”
He dipped his head by her ear. He knew he was only being this brave because he was heavily intoxicated, but he didn’t care. He snaked his tongue out and flicked it across her ear, before sucking and nibbling on her earlobe.
Catherine’s knees buckled. “Goodness...”
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, my knees are a little weak. Funny, eh?” She winked.
“How about we go sit down?”
“The song isn’t over!”
“I’ll dance with you later,” he suggested, hoping she wouldn’t remember later.
She wagged a finger at him. “I’m on to you, buster.”
~*~
Catherine’s heart seemed to be pounding in her head; furthermore, ever since he licked her ear, it had been pounding in double-time. She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the table. Greg was resting comfortably, taking up their seats in the booth, and the only remaining seat was one next to Sara.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Gil snuck up on her and sat in the chair before she could.
She grinned. “That’s fine. I’ll sit—” she lowered herself into his lap, her back to him. “—here. That okay with you, buster?”
“Wonderful,” he answered. Then he turned his focus to everyone else. “Okay, since I went out and danced like a complete retard,” everyone laughed, probably at his use of slang. “Now, I get to pick, right?”
Nick nodded. “Yep.”
Catherine stopped him. She had been looking at the table, and for a second thought it looked like the shot glasses had multiplied because she was drunk and seeing triple, but she realized that they were filled with different things. “Wait a second. What did you guys order?”
Gil dipped a finger in one, and grinned. “I have a dare for Sara and Catherine.”
“What’s in it?!” Catherine asked, turning a little to see him.
“It’s a Blowjob,” he answered. She wondered how he knew what that shot was, but kept the question to herself. “I want you and Sara to take those shots without any help from your hands.”
Warrick laughed. Nick and Greg both looked as surprised as Catherine felt. She looked at Sara and grinned, while putting a shot in front of both of them. “Shall we show them how it’s done, Sara?”
The brunette laughed. “Sure, why not?”
Catherine wriggled a little in Gil’s lap; the movement had two purposes: one, to make Gil a little uncomfortable, and two, to give her some more room. “Hold my hands back, would you?” She asked him. He obliged, gripping her wrists with one hand. She grinned at Sara again, and then descended.
When she lifted her head, pouring the alcohol down her throat, holding the shot glass in her lips, she felt Gil’s grip tighten. Everyone clapped. Sara did the same thing.
Sara blushed when Nick asked her where she learned how to do that, but didn’t answer. Then, she asked: “Nicky, I have a dare for you... wanna take it?”
“Sure, why not,” he puffed his chest out. Catherine caught one glance at Sara’s eyes, and knew he shouldn’t feel so confident. “I can handle it.”
“Alright, Slick,” she put her challenge forth. “I want you to do a Blowjob shot. Show us all how it’s done.”
“Alright,” he grinned playfully. “Greggo, wanna hold my hands back for me? Wouldn’t want Sara to think I needed them...”
“Sure, Nick,” Greg sat up and leaned forward, taking Nick’s hands in his. Catherine smiled at the silent exchange between the two young men, and wondered if something was going on between them on a romantic level; the thoughts were wiped from her mind, though, as Gil set an arm around her waist. Nick bent down and took the shot in his mouth, not spilling a drop. Greg looked impressed. “Where’d you perfect that move?”
His smile stretched, while he licked the remnants of the creamy alcohol off his lip. “Wouldn’t you like to know...” He trailed off, and cleared his throat, before turning to Catherine. “Truth or dare, my sweet?”
“Dare, Nicky.”
“I dare you to kiss Gil, on the lips, open mouthed, for at least five Mississippi’s.”
Everyone whooped and hollered. She turned back at Gil and winked, despite the butterflies in her stomach. Then, she turned back to Nick. “Sure. While I’m making out with our sexy supervisor, though, how about you order me a drink? Let Greg pick something different... k?”
“Deal.”
Catherine stood up and turned around. She looked at Gil for any signs of hesitance, but found none. She wondered if it was only because he was drunk; even if it was, she was going to take advantage. Her wildest fantasies rarely materialized into an opportunity. She slid back down into his lap, this time facing him. “Ready?”
“All set,” he licked his lips. She couldn’t wait to feel his tongue in her mouth.
“Excellent,” she murmured while closing the gap between them and pressing her lips to his. She felt Gil’s hands on her ribcage, and she gasped; she gasped again when he took advantage of the situation and probed her mouth with his tongue, gently at first, but as the intensity built between them, his need was reflected in his movements.
She thought she heard Sara and Warrick snickering, but she didn’t pay them any mind. She wrapped her fingers up in his wavy hair and kept kissing him. She never wanted it to end.
“Ahem,” Nick distracted her. “Wanna come up for oxygen any time soon?”
Sara laughed. Catherine lifted her lips from Gil’s and pressed her forehead to his, while they caught their breath. Then, she turned to face him. “We were eventually going to get there.” She grinned. “Truth or Dare, Greg?”
“Dare.”
“I dare you,” she responded with a smirk, “To get up and sing ‘The Thong Song’ for Karaoke.”
He blushed. “How about I just show you my thong instead?”
“No dice, Greg,” she grinned, unfazed by his comment. “Get up there and sing.”
Nick slid two glasses across the table. “A Hop-Skip-Strip for Catherine, and a Macbeth for Grissom.”
“You got me a drink, too?” He asked while Catherine turned herself around in his lap.
Nick laughed. “Yeah, man, figured you’d need one to cool you off.”
~*~
As the crowd laughed and clapped, Greg air kissed his mocking fans. “And I love you, and you... and you with the blue hair... and you with the bright orange mesh thing, and you, and you—” He tripped, and everyone laughed again. He bowed, and rushed off the stage.
Gil chuckled, glad the he wasn’t the only one making a fool of himself that night. Catherine laughed and pointed. “He’s got the drunk ‘I love you’’s going on. Big trouble.”
“Point of no return,” Sara agreed. “I hope his head hurts tomorrow.”
Greg flopped down on the bench and sighed. “I love you guys, you know that?”
Catherine sipped her drink. “Yes, Greg, we know that.”
“No, do you, really?” He leaned his elbows onto the table. “I mean, guys, I really love you.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “You’ve said this to everyone, numerous times, buddy. We all know you love us.”
Greg leaned closer to Nick and wriggled his eyebrows. “I love you, Nick.”
“And, I love you, too, Greg.”
“Awww,” Greg clutched his chest. “Man, that cuts me deep. Say it like you mean it!”
Gil’s eyes bugged out of his head; Nick didn’t say anything else, but instead leaned forward and kissed the younger man. Everyone else sat watching, before grinning and laughing. Gil had never considered either male to harbour same-sex attractions, but he found it fascinating, nevertheless.
Catherine turned around and looked at him. He saw that dangerous glimmer in her eye and knew it was going nowhere good. “We can do better than that, don’t you think?”
“Uh huh...” he could barely make himself nod.
When she kissed him, he could think of nothing else except that he was kissing Catherine Willows. He moaned softly and gripped her hips, pulling her down against him.
Sara spoke up, very close to their ears. “Get a room, would you?”
She pulled back, her lips swollen and chest heaving. “Hey, Warrick, looking back on your past experiences, there’s enough room in a bathroom stall for two people, right?”
He laughed and set his beer down. “Yeah, you could make it work. Go to it, Cath.” He smirked at Gil, who gulped. “Make sure she doesn’t tear you apart, Gris.”
~*~
Once they were safely locked in one of the bathroom stalls, Catherine focused herself on the task at hand. She undid his pants before he could stop her; when she started lifting his sweater up, he grabbed her wrists.
She paused to look up at him, and could see the desire in his eyes. Desire for her. She shivered. He showered her face with kisses; she felt her control fading. “No,” she whispered against his face. “We have to be quick... don’t wanna get caught... later,” she could barely put her words together. “Later we’ll take it slow.”
He nuzzled her neck while lifting her skirt up. “There will be a next time?”
“Oh, I hope so,” she kissed his jaw, and let three important words slip: “God, I love you, Gil.”
“I love you, too, Catherine—whoops!” She had pulled his pants down and pushed him down on the toilet in two very quick and smooth movements. She giggled and bent down to kiss him. She might’ve been drunk, but she knew there was nothing sweeter than his lips.
She feasted until he pulled back and asked: “I thought you wanted to be quick?”
“Oh right,” she smiled, blushing because she had been so caught up in him, and he had caught her. She held her skirt up with one hand, and steadied herself on him with the other; he took his hands and put them to the task of removing her underwear. When he slipped a digit inside of her, her knees buckled and she fell a bit.
“Easy, Cath,” he whispered, before nipping her earlobe.
Catherine flashed him a smile that betrayed her nervousness. She slowly lowered herself down, taking his entire length into her, inch by inch. His soft sighs and moans fueled her fires; his hands worked her until she didn’t think she could take anymore.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, while moving her hips up and down, rotating them against him. His lips fumbled across her face before reaching her lips. She felt his hands—one on her hip, the other under her shirt to play with her bra—leave burning trails over her body. The hand on her hip slid lower, between them. She bucked against him, mostly in surprise; he continued his fixation, and brought her to a point of eruption.
Without realizing it, her head fell forward, her lips sought his neck. She felt herself kissing him, but as her orgasm washed over her, she had no idea that she had bitten him.
She felt him arch into her and moan. He reached up and caressed her cheek while they rode out the last few waves of pleasure. She saw some sort of uncertainty in his eyes, and wished that it wasn’t centered on her. “See?” She put a confident facade up to protect herself. “Way better than Greg and Nicky.”
“Did you know about that?” He asked while they straightened each other out.
She shrugged. “A little suspicion. Nothing certain.” She quickly added: “Now, Sara and Warrick... completely out of the blue.”
“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
They opened the bathroom stall door, and were attacked by a bright flash of light. It was too bright for Catherine’s drunken eyes; she winced and fell back against Gil, who was apparently unsteady, because she felt herself falling. She landed with a soft thud on top of him.
There was another bright flash, and then Greg’s laugh.
Catherine looked at Gil and growled. “Who gave him a camera?”
~*~
Catherine, after scolding Greg for scaring them, was bought off with another drink. Gil hardly thought more alcohol was going to make this situation any better, but he kept his mouth shut. He watched her as she studied the glasses he brought over intensely: “What’s yours called, Greg?”
“Leapfrog.”
“Nick?”
“Apparently,” he winced. “It’s called Anal Penetrator: melon, amaretto, rum, southern comfort and vodka.” Everyone winced. “All on ice.”
She dropped her head in front of her drink, watching the creamy fizz. Gil saw the curiosity in her eyes and smiled. “What’s mine called?”
“A Snowblower.”
She chuckled. “Hey, isn’t that when you put ice in your mouth and...” when her eyes met Gil’s, she trailed off. “Wanna try it sometime?”
He put his brakes on. In his drunken fog, there was something about ice near his reproductive organs that seemed very wrong. “Ahhh, I’m going to have to pass, Catherine.”
She pouted. “Please?”
Warrick tried to back Gil up; he was grateful for the support. “Catherine, not everyone likes cold... shrinkage, stuff like that.”
“But, Gil doesn’t have to worry about shrinkage,” she replied, forgetting that there was a thing called tact. Gil blushed. “I mean, there’s plenty down there...” She looked back at him. “Please?”
“No, Cath.”
She stood up after taking a mouthful of her drink. He watched the anger play across her face, hoping that it was only accentuated because of her intoxication. “Gil Grissom... I can’t believe you!” She stomped her foot. “I’m breaking up with you!”
He turned his head, as his jaw dropped, so he could watch her storm out of the bar. He glanced back at the others, and asked: “Should I run out after her?”
Greg shook his head. “Nah, she’ll be fine once she cools off a bit.”
Sara shot him a glance, and then corrected him. “Gris, I’d try to catch up with her. She’s drunk, alone, upset...”
Gil jumped up and followed the path she had taken out of the bar. When he made it outside, she was nowhere to be found. Instead of going back into the bar, he hailed a cab and went home. He decided on his own that the best thing to do would be to go home, sleep off the thick haze, and then talk to Catherine when they were both sober.
~*~
Catherine woke up around 4, her head pounding. She looked around her bedroom, and saw that she was still full dressed, and had passed out on top of the covers. “Yuck.” She groaned, sitting up and checking herself over.
“Shower...” she muttered, standing up and slowly making her way to her dresser, so she could find some clean underwear, and survey the damage done to her appearance. Mascara stains were on her cheeks, leading her to believe she had done a lot of crying. She wiped at it as best she could, and then started undressing.
She slipped out of her skirt and tossed it in the hamper. Then, she lifted her shirt over her head and gasped. “No bra...” She muttered, tapping her foot worriedly. “What the hell happened to my—”
Catherine stopped short when she saw the hickeys on her neck. Memories of the night flashed behind her eyes: kissing Gil, going to a bathroom with Gil, telling Gil she loved him, having sex with Gil, and then breaking up with Gil.
She groaned and sat down on her bed. She looked at the clock. It read 4:12. She picked up her phone, making the decision that if she couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t either.
“H-he-llo?”
“Gil?”
“Ahhh,” his voice was thick from sleep. She imagined he had passed out on his sofa. “My ex-girlfriend thinks it’s okay to call me at 4 in the morning?”
She sighed. “So, you do remember.”
“Most of it,” he admitted. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. He yawned, and then suggested: “We have to be in to work, in six hours, right?” She replied with a positive grunt. “Well, how about you sleep for a few more, and then come here. I’ll cook breakfast, and we can talk.”
“Talk?”
“You don’t think we should talk about what happened last night?”
He was making her blush uncomfortably, even on the phone. She sighed. “We probably should.”
“Okay. I’ll make my famous pancakes. How about you meet me here at 8:45?”
She smiled. “Sounds great.” Before they parted ways, she asked: “Gil, do you remember what happened to my bra?”
He groaned. “I think it’s still in the bathroom of the bar.”
She laughed, hurting her head in the process. “Okay. Great. I’m gonna go lie down. See you later.”
“Bye.”
~*~
Gil and Catherine walked into the lab hand in hand. Despite his hangover, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Their talk over breakfast had gone surprisingly well, despite her embarrassment when discussing emotions and his discomfort when talking about their coupling in the public bathroom. He couldn’t have denied the passion that had flown so easily between them the night before, and as it turned out, she couldn’t have either. They both admitted to their feelings, and decided to take it one step at a time. Gil had never felt better—emotionally; physically, he felt as though he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.
“You know, they’re going to have a field day with this,” she spoke softly, squeezing his hand before they walked into the break room.
He nodded. “It’s worth it though.”
“Big bad boss image ruined...” she teased with a happy voice.
“I’ll take away their overtime,” he joked, pushing the door open. Greg and Nick were sitting at the table, while Warrick and Sara stood by the coffee machine. The four grinned at the new newcomers. “Hey, Guys.”
“Grissom,” Warrick smirked. “How’s the head?”
“Never better,” he winked. “Anyone’s stomach’s unsettled?” Greg raised his hand; that didn’t surprise Gil—Greg had been the drunkest out of them all. “Well, works out well, because you’re not out in the field.”
Greg nodded, patting his stomach gently. “Yeah, I know.”
“Are the rest of you alright?”
“Yeah,” Sara nodded. Then, she changed the subject: “Did you catch up with Catherine last night?”
Greg raised his hand before Gil could answer: “That was after they broke up, right?” Warrick nodded. Greg asked another question: “But, before I went home?”
Catherine smirked. “You don’t remember any of last night?”
The lab technician smiled. “Well, I remember ordering odd combinations of drinks. You two, making out. A fight. Some dancing. Taking your picture in the bathroom...” He shrugged. “It’s really fuzzy. Time lapses everywhere.”
Gil studied Greg’s face; he had a mysterious burn on his forehead. He nudged Catherine and pointed to his forehead, and then Greg’s, to relay the message. Catherine chuckled. “Greg, how did you get that carpet burn?”
Nick raised his hands in self-defense. “Contrary to popular assumptions around here, it has nothing to do with me.”
Sara laughed. “Well, you know how he was drinking a ‘leapfrog’ before you two stormed out?” Catherine nodded. “Greggo decided he wanted to play leapfrog—”
Nick interjected. “None of us wanted to play—”
Warrick added: “Damn straight.”
Nick continued: “So, he decided to play with a chair. The pictures of this should turn out perfectly.”
Greg finished the story. “As I was leaping, I tripped, and my forehead made contact with the floor.” Catherine burst out into laughter; despite the ringing in his head, Gil loved to hear her laugh. “Man, I was trashed last night.” He grinned at them all: “Thanks guys, my birthday was the best.”
“No problem, Greg,” Gil smiled back at him. “Next time, though, how about we partake in something a little less intoxicating?”
Greg nodded. “Agreed.”
Warrick spoke teasingly from the coffee machine. “Don’t wanna risk getting lucky in a public bathroom again?”
Gil rolled his eyes and laughed. Between the hangover and the teasing, this shift was going to be a long one.
The End!
