A/N – Please R&R. I hope you like. This is the end of what started with Beer Five. It's been fun writing this, but I can't see any way to really continue it. It's just a bit of fluff and fun. Had a major error in it and corrected it.

Disclaimer: CBS owns CSI. It's that simple.

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Sara wasn't sure what possessed her to tell Gil it was okay for them to host the poker party. She sat ensconced on the sofa, thirty seven and a half weeks pregnant, as big as a house, and unable to get up.

"Sara, I need you to move so I can move the couch," Nick said, not noticing the irritated look on the woman's face.

Having just been moved first from a chair at the table, then to her recliner, and now the couch, she'd had enough.

Irritated, her back aching horribly, teeth clenched, Sara calmly informed him, "No. Make me."

Sighing, Nick asked, "Do you need help up again?"

"Yes," she whispered, hating the fact that every time she sat down, she couldn't get back up without rolling herself out.

Nick lifted her to her feet just in time for Warrick to pick up one end of the couch, Greg the other, and for it to disappear into the hallway and a second table to be put into place.

Looking for someplace to sit down, Sara examined the room. The living room and dining area had been emptied. Two tables had been pushed together, and the boys had been hauling in chairs for the occasion.

"Gil?" she asked, "how many people did you invite for this?"

Pausing mid-stride, he contemplated, then started listing, "Doc Robbins, David, Catherine, Warrick, Nick, his girlfriend, Greg, Jim, and Sofia. Oh, and us."

"My girlfriend couldn't make it," Nick said, blushing slightly.

Just then the doorbell rang. Gil looked at Sara, his hands now full of bottles, and asked, "Could you get the door, my dear?"

Rolling her eyes, and sighing, Sara waddled to the door and opened it to find the first arrival.

"Hey doc," she said, smiling. "Come on in. Have a seat… if you can find one."

That's how the next ten minutes went… with Sara nicely answering the door, wishing she could just sit down for a few minutes, because her feet and back were killing her, and the boys getting out the chips and drinks.

With the last arrival, Sara felt like she could finally get off her feet, so she sat down in one of the chairs at the table, prompting the others to follow suit.

In no time at all, each player had cashed in for a handful of chips, and the game was underway. This being the first time Sara had actually played with Gil, she discovered he didn't just love to watch the game on television, but took it a tad too seriously in real life. Whenever she felt he was just too quiet or too staid, she'd take the opportunity to reach under the table and slide his hand along his leg.

Of everyone at the table, all but Greg, Nick, and Warrick were holding their own. Greg was losing consistently, and Nick and Warrick were losing just a bit more than they were winning.

Several of the "players" had decided to opt for daiquiris (primarily Sofia, David, and Doc Robbins), while Nick had spent considerable time explaining tequila shooters to Gil.

"Come on, man… you gotta try it," so he'd tried one, deciding to use Sara's wrist as the place from which to lick the salt.

"Not bad," Gil replied, winking at Sara, who rolled her eyes.

"Umm… honey, I need to get up," Sara whispered to her husband. "Bathroom again."

For the third time in the last hour, Gil helped Sara to her feet, walked her down the hall, and waited outside the bathroom to see if she might need help getting up from where she sat in there, as well. When the door opened, he escorted her back and helped her into her chair.

A little while later, another round of tequila shooters came around. Nick didn't have to talk Gil into trying it this time. Instead, he grinned, winked, and held her wrist in front of himself. Again, she probably would have enjoyed it more if she weren't in the "I'm fat, I hurt, and I haven't seen my feet in so long I can't remember what they look like" stage.

Several more rounds of poker were played.

"Yes!" Greg shouted when he won his first hand. How he wasn't out of chips, Sara had no idea, because he'd been losing the entire night.

The next hand went to Doc Robbins, followed by two more to Gil.

The third round of tequila shooters had Sara just offering up her wrist, resigned to the fact that she'd become a salt lick.

It wasn't until shortly after the third tequila shooter that Doc Robbins asked the fateful question.

"So, Sara – how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fat," she replied, then mumbled, "and achy, swollen, and the backache is killing me."

"Backache?" he quietly queried.

"Yeah," she replied. "It's worse than usual. I may have to bail early to go lay down."

"Sara, you didn't tell me your back was hurting you," Gil chastised.

At this, she rolled her eyes again at him and tried to stand, only to feel a sudden clenching of her stomach.

Grabbing her bulging belly, she began to moan, sinking back into the chair.

"How long ago did the backache become worse than usual?" Doc Robbins asked.

Gasping for breath, she replied, "I don't know… five or six hours ago."

Jim, having been there when his daughter was born, smiled and said, "Get ready, daddy, they're on their way."

"Gilbert, could you help me up, please?" Sara asked as the contraction lessened.

Everyone looked at Gil, noticed the blank look on his face, and waited… and waited.

They're coming? They're early! I need to… I need to… I need to…ran through his mind mercilessly as he forgot every single damn thing he'd learned in class.

Finally, Sara huffed, "Earth to Grissom! Help me stand up. Now."

"Sara," he softly said, "We need to get you to the hospital. They're too early."

After that, chaos ensued. Gil's brain was buzzing, and he was regretting that third shot, no matter how much fun it had been at the time. And he couldn't find the car keys to save his life, even though they were in his pocket.

Warrick looked semi-terrified to come within ten feet of her in fear of doing something wrong, because she was barking orders like a general.

Catherine finally took charge of the situation.

"Grissom, grab Sara's bag and get in my car – you're buzzed. I only had a few sips of my drink. Sara, I want you to sit in the back seat. Nick, help her out there. Jim, clean up the house and get the furniture back in order."

With that, Catherine, Nick, Grissom, and Sara left, leaving her bag sitting by the front door. Within two minutes, a frantic Gil came flying back in, grabbed it, and ran out again. The rest of the poker guests just looked at one another and started straightening up the place.

The drive to the hospital was fairly uneventful, except that Sara's next contraction only came eight minutes after they left the house.

By the time they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Sara's brow was covered in sweat, she was huffing breaths in and out, and she was crying out from the pain of another contraction.

"Good lord, Catherine," Nick said shakily, "you made a twenty five minute drive in about seventeen minutes!"

Meanwhile, Gil's head was starting to throb as the last tequila really hit him, and he was glaring at Nick.

"Get me some coffee," Gil gritted between clenched teeth. "Right now. I'll get Sara checked in."

Catherine and Gil were ready to put their arms around Sara, when they realized she was already halfway to the Emergency Room doors. They had to hurry to catch up to her.

Once inside, Catherine grabbed a nurse and explained the situation, while a clipboard with a dozen forms was handed to Gil. He started cursing at about the fourth form that asked for the same damn information, and was about to throw the thing across the room, when Nick walked in.

"Griss, I couldn't find coffee, but I found a place to get espresso," he said, handing the cup to Gil.

"Whatever," came the reply, and Gil tossed the entire drink back in one shot.

A young doctor came out to greet them.

"Dr. Grissom?" he asked Nick, who pointed to Gil.

"Oh, sorry about that. Sir, your wife is being prepped for the delivery room. She's nearly fully dilated already," the physician told him.

Grabbing the doctor's arm, Gil looked him in the eye and said, "Sara's not even thirty eight weeks pregnant."

Seeing fear flash across Gil's eyes, the physician's expression softened a bit and said, "Your regular doctor probably told you that multiples can come early. I've taken a look at the heart beats, and I'll run an ultrasound as soon as I get in there. I couldn't get your regular OB/GYN on the phone, and these kids aren't going to wait."

Smiling, the doctor said, "By the way, I'm Dr. Glass. I've delivered a lot of kids. I'll do everything I can for your wife."

Standing back, Dr. Glass continued, "You need to get in there and help your wife."

Gil disappeared with the nurse, and Catherine and Nick headed up to the maternity ward. Ten minutes later, Greg and Warrick came flying into the room, Greg yelling, "Are they here yet!"

With a sigh, Catherine just looked at the young man and said, "Greg, it takes a little time for a baby to be born, let alone two of them."

Over the next forty five minutes, more and more people arrived, waiting to see the arrival of baby boy and baby girl (since Sara and Gil hadn't told them the names they'd picked out yet).

Two hours and ten minutes after Gil left, he appeared in the doorway of the maternity waiting room, a huge smile gracing his face. Immediately, everyone stood.

"Sara's fine," he said.

High-fives started being slapped around the room, and a general chorus of 'Congratulations' came out.

On a more serious tone, Gil added, "Because they were early and small, they're being taken to the NICU for monitoring for awhile."

He looked down at the tile floor when his eyes misted over as he remembered his children being placed in incubators. As everyone watched him, the room fell silent.

"Are they going to be okay?" Catherine asked, worry etched on her face.

"The prognosis is good," he replied, then continued, "they tested well on the APGAR, but the doctor wants to monitor them for breathing problems."

Deciding to try to distract Grissom, Jim smiled and asked, "Are you ever planning on telling us their names?"

"Oh!" Gil exclaimed, then reached into a pocket and pulled out a photo.

"Bailey Rose Grissom," – He handed the picture of a pink bundle to Catherine, and reached in for the next.

"Ethan Gabriel Grissom," – He handed the picture of a blue bundle to Catherine.

No one noticed when he reached in his pocket again, until he announced, "Gideon Elliot Grissom."

The room erupted.