Summery: Who ever said that first impressions matters the most never factored in over active sex drives, close work environments and dead bodies into the equation. Part One of the Until The Day I Die Series
Rated:M
Disclaimer: I dont own anything, end of story.
A/N: So this is my first CSI fic, Sandle of course :) Let me know what you think.
How did Gil Grissom ever talk her into to coming down here?
Oh yeah that was it I miss you Sara. I need you right now. I am going through a tough time.
Tough time her Californian ass.
SHE was the one having the tough time down her in the god forsaken lab.
Everyone hated her.
That guy that sounded like he needed to take a refresher course in English, Mike, Ike, Nick, yeah that's it Nick, hated her from the start. That gambler yelled at her all the time and that stripper even went as far as denying she was herself when she first met her!
People are friendly hereFriendly! Friendly. If this is what he called friendly, he had a pour judgment of what friendly was.
Sara Sidle didn't like it to well in Las Vegas that much was obvious. People never slept, affordable apartments had horrible locations, but worse of all she never have to live a life outside of the lab. This now meant she had no social life. No social life at all.
Sara swung open the door of the dinky break room and glanced around the room for coffee.
"Coffee, Coffee, Coffee," She chanted slightly annoyed.
"Coffee!"
She grabbed the coffee pot in her hand, swirling the black goo around in the pot contemplating drinking it. It looked like something had decomposed in the pot.
"You have to be Grissom's new lap dog. Haven't had the displeasure of meeting you yet. The team says you're a pain in the crack of their asses," rang out a rather amused voice.
And in her anger, Sara dropped the coffee pot in the floor, shattering it into a million pieces.
She turned around to meet the egotistical asshole that insulted her.
"He is probably old and has a funny looking nose," she thought grimly.
But quite on the contrary, he was cute in his own unique way. His brown hair softly falling in his large puppy dog like, hazel eyes. His skin tanned and freckled and his frame lean, but fit. His wild colored shirt was unbuttoned down to his mid stomach, which a white muscle tee underneath. His jeans hung loosely on his hips falling over his converse styled shoes slightly.
But the man hadn't even glanced at her.
"Egotistical asshole. He is worse than all of the others combined." She thought grimly.
"Don't worry about the coffee pot, you will only get suspended for about a week," he said rather seriously as he picked up the coffee pot remains.
"What???"
"Just joking. We keep a new one handy ever since Grissom threw it across the room when the judge wouldn't give him a warrant on a drug dealer who killed a new born."
"Names- Gregggg oh," he said his eyes sliding up to meet her.
"Well Greggo my name is Sara," she teased putting emphasis on the end of her name.
"Uhhh ummm . . ." he stuttered looking at the ground
"Egotistical . . . aww he is kind of cute when he is embarrassed. NO Sidle NO! No thinking good things about the enemy." She thought randomly.
"Cat got your tongue- lap dog got your tongue?"
"No, you want it?" he asked suggestively.
"No, I wouldn't want to catch a disease," she teased walking out of the room
Maybe, just maybe . . . Las Vegas won't be so bad after all . . .
A/N: I hope you like it! R&R for more . . .