*Stumbles back into the fandom drunk approximately ten years later*

So guess who found inspiration again? Actually I just started watching the series over from the beginning but I guess that still counts. I'm not sure where this'll go, but let's be honest, when have I ever been sure of where my fics were going? In any case, we're all in this together, and we're about to rob that liquor store, and if someone dies, we're all going down for murder. So the question is, are you in the car?

"So tell me. You're always rushing out of here as soon as you can. Do you really have that many dates or are you just trying to make everyone think you do?"

"What do you think?"

"I think I want to know the truth," Nick laughed.

"He just wants to know because we have a bet going and he's losing," Warrick added, smirking over at his partner. Nick shook his head, but didn't deny it. Greg rolled his eyes.

"Just for that, I'll never tell."

"Oh come on, Mandy overheard you ask Grissom for next Friday off. You know Fridays are the worst night of the week and you're leaving us high and dry!"

"I have plans," he said, shrugging and turning back to his microscope.

"With?" Warrick prodded.

"With someone."

"A date?"

"That's for me to know," he said, glancing up at them before scratching down some notes about the trace he was looking at. "Could be a girl, could be Sylvester Stalone, could be Wonder Woman. I guess you'll just have to settle for never being sure." Nick groaned, elbowing Warrick.

"Come on, he's not gonna tell us."

"Well maybe he could tell us what that smudge was on the vic's cheek."

"Motor oil. High end stuff. For classic cars. Any other questions?"

"Anything else you'd like to share?"

"Well, your vic was sleeping with three men and two women. None of which were in CODIS. Bring me something to compare and I'll tell you who's who."

"Sounds like you and the vic had something in common then," Warrick said, taking the offered report.

"You'll need a warrant for my sheets."

"Don't tempt me."

"How was your date?"

"Don't tell me, you're in on the bet too?"

"Well, Grissom disapproves of anyone betting on cases, so now we're betting on each other. Drama sells," Catherine said, smirking at him. Greg snorted, pulling the results from the printer.

"Your vic was on a whole bunch of medications. And heroin. Always a good combination."

"Was she not in your league?"

"Don't you have a case to work?"

"Well yeah, but I could use some insider information about where to put my money."

"A bank."

"Funny."

"I like to think so."

"Did she not like your sense of humor?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Did you wear that ugly brown shirt?"

"I think I hear Bobby yelling for you."

"There wasn't even a gun involved with this one."

"You might want to see what he needs then," Greg laughed, turning his radio on and waving as he turned to the stack of files on his desk.

"I hear you're disappointing in bed."

"I swear to God, I'm going to turn Nick and Warrick blue."

"I don't doubt it," Sara said, grinning.

"You're in on the bet too?"

"No, I just listen to everyone else trying to figure it out."

"Well thanks."

"So, you wanna let me in on the secret?"

"I do not. It's my personal business."

"You know everyone else's personal business."

"Yeah, because we techs like to gossip. I don't have to actively search it out, it just comes to me."

"So why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's my business. I shouldn't have to tell anyone," he snapped. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened them again.

"Hey, I'm sorry. If you really don't want to talk about it, I won't ask again."

"Thank you," he said, sighing. "It's just…I get it, I do. I'm not telling everyone so that means everybody needs to know what's going on. It's like telling someone not to open a box right in front of them."

"It's different when it's your life people are trying to open though."

"Exactly."

"Well, I can tell you almost everyone on grave has placed some kind of bet. Doc Robbins is keeping track."

"Perfect."

"I'll let you know what rumors I hear. Some of them are pretty funny. Like the one about you being a dancer."

"I'm not nearly flexible enough for that."

"That's why it's funny," she said, laughing and giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Page me when the results of my wine bottle are done." He shook his head, smiling fondly, feeling better now that he had someone who was on his side more or less.

"What's this I hear about a bet involving you?"

"Come on, Grissom, not you too," Greg sighed, not pausing in his work and completely missing the curious look Grissom was giving him.

"Greg."

"Everyone is betting on my love life. Or lack of, depending on who you want to believe."

"And?"

"And, I won't admit to anything, so everyone is just running wild and trying to figure it out."

"I see."

"Are you mad at me? Because I can tell them to stop but it won't do much good."

"Actually, productivity is up. It seems having a puzzle constantly running through everyone's minds is helping."

"Good?"

"Exactly. Keep up the good work." By the time Greg looked up to make sure Grissom wasn't kidding, because he could never tell, the other man was already walking away, leaving Greg even more frustrated.

"Are you ever going to tell us?" Nick asked, leaning in Greg's doorway.

"Are you going to stop treating my life like a joke?"

"We aren't treating your life like a joke," Warrick said, frowning a little.

"It kind of feels like you are. Or at least, like everyone else is because of your encouragement," Greg said, giving them a pointed look.

"I also don't see how it's anyone else's business what I do in my spare time or who I'm with. Regardless of if I have a revolving door of women or none at all, it's my life and I'm getting really tired of people making jokes either way."

"We didn't mean any harm," Nick said, sharing a glance with Warrick and stepping further into the lab.

"Most people don't mean any harm. Doesn't mean that harm doesn't happen," Greg pointed out. "I'm a big boy, I can handle a few jokes. But when everyone's first words to me in any conversation are a jab at my personal life, it gets real old, real fast. How would you like it if everyone was constantly making comments to you about Kristi?" He turned to Warrick. "Or if everyone asked you how your gambling was going? They're not exactly the same thing, but I'm sure you get my point. Maybe, just maybe, I'd like to keep that part of my life private because I see exactly how quick news spreads around here."

The two CSIs looked properly ashamed of themselves, so he took a deep breath and shook his head a little.

"I'm not saying you can't make jokes. I'm just asking that if I tell you something is personal and I don't want to share it, please respect that."

"Yeah, we got you. We'll tell everyone the bet is off," Warrick said.

"And we're sorry," Nick added.

"Thank you. I might decide to tell you, but you need to let me decide that instead of having everyone pry and hound me about it," he said. "I'm not ashamed or anything, and it's nothing bad."

"It's just personal," Nick finished, giving him a small smile.

"Yeah."

"Alright, well, we'll get on everyone else. Page us when you have our results?"

"Sure."

"You apologized to him? And meant it?"

"Well, yeah. We didn't know he was so bugged by it. If we'd know it was that irritating for him, we would have stopped it before it got there," Nick said, shrugging one shoulder.

"Good," Sara said, standing up and looking at them in a way that felt exactly like how a principal looked at two troublesome kids. "Because he told me three weeks ago what was going on with him and no one guessed it. So none of you would have gotten any money anyway."

"What?"

"Yeah. Because I listened when he told me to quit asking. So he trusted me enough to tell me." With a smirk, she turned and walked out, leaving her coworkers to look at each other in disbelief.

It was a bad scene. No one ever wanted to get the call to an elementary school. The whole team was on scene, processing what had been a playground mere hours before.

"Were there any kids out here?" Catherine asked, looking at the devastated slides and swing sets and merry-go-rounds.

"A few. First grade science class was outside for an experiment. Teacher was seriously injured, currently on her way to the hospital. A bunch of kids were injured but nothing serious with them," Jim said. If Catherine couldn't see the slight clench in his jaw, the hard set to his eyes, she would have thought he was emotionless in his recounting.

"Good."

"The school has been calling parents while the kids are being treated."

"Uh, guys?" All eyes went to Nick, who was looking over at where the ambulances were, where parents were trying to find their kids. A familiar car stopped and an even more familiar face got out.

"I heard Greg had explosives experience, but I didn't think it was enough to have him called in," Warrick said, looking at Grissom.

"He wasn't called in," Grissom said, looking just as confused as any of them. Except Sara.

"Not by us at least," she said, "look." They watched in silence as there was a cry of 'Daddy!' from the group of children, and a little girl broke free form the bunch and ran towards him. He caught her easily, scooping her up into his arms and holding her tightly.

"That was what he was hiding. Not a love life," Sara said.

"He has a kid?" Nick asked. "But he's just a kid himself!"

"Well let's focus on the case. Speculating will only lead to trouble. He'll tell us when he's ready," Catherine said, a knowing look in her eyes.

"So, what's her name?" Greg didn't look surprised by the question, and didn't react beyond pausing for a moment as he poured his coffee.

"Misty." Catherine looked at him curiously.

"Your wallet if full of pictures isn't it?"

"Obviously," he laughed, dropping into a chair at the table and pulling out aforementioned wallet. He opened it with a practiced ease, right to the stack of pictures in the middle, and handed it to Catherine. The little girl smiling up at her didn't look much like him at first glance, but after a few seconds, she saw the similarities. They had the same eyes, the same grin. There was a picture of him holding her, obviously just after she was born judging by the hospital bed, where she was sleeping but one pudgy hand was gripping his finger. The contrast between their skin tones was obvious, especially with how pale he was now, but she didn't state the obvious.

"Her mother?"

"We met at a party. Senior year. She wasn't ready to settle down, wasn't ready to be a mother. We talked, and decided to give her up for adoption. I went with her for doctor's appointments, paying half because I didn't think it was fair for her to be alone in all of it. But when I saw that ultrasound…"He trailed off, shaking his head a little.

"You couldn't go through with it."

"No, I couldn't. I begged her for a week straight before she agreed to give her to me. She wanted nothing more to do with us when it was done, so she wasn't even put on the birth certificate. Her request. I haven't seen her since."

"She wasn't angry thought?"

"Nah, she just wanted to be done with it, like she would have been if we'd gone through with the adoption plan."

"And that's why you rush out of here."

"Yeah. My neighbor babysits in the afternoon, but anytime I can have the option of putting her to bed myself, I'm gonna take it," he said, grinning.

"I can agree with that," Catherine said, smiling softly. "If you ever need anything, just let me know. I know a thing or two about being a single parent."

"Trust me, I might take you up on that," he laughed, accepting the wallet back and standing back up.

"You should bring her in sometime. I'm sure everyone would love to meet her."

"You know, I just might do that," he said. "You know, if I can trust everyone to not corrupt my child." Catherine just laughed.

"What's so funny?" Warrick asked, walking in.

"Nothing," she said. Ignoring his suspicious look. "Absolutely nothing."

Bonus points to anyone who gets my reference in the top message.

And as always, this is fresh from the desk of an adult nothing.