Every year the dayshift CSI supervisor tried to devise some type of festivity or contest for the lab personnel to enjoy. This year’s game was a mystery of twenty-six entries belonging to twenty-six people who worked in the lab. The idea was simple, match the item with person. The first entrant to correctly complete all twenty-six entries would be declared the winner. Their prize would be a case of salsa and five boxes of tortilla chips.

            Every year Gil Grissom had tactfully and adroitly avoided the fun and games. The contest was generally silly and Gil Grissom just didn’t do silly. On the other hand, Greg Sanders was a master at silly.

            “Grissom, Grissom.” Greg jogged up to him as Grissom made his way to the garage.

            Grissom stopped and turned at the younger man’s approach. “Greg,” he answered, resuming his trek once Greg had caught up to him. “What can I do for you?”

            “Do you know anyone from the lab that has gotten engaged or married lately?” Greg asked, looking at a half sheet of paper in his hand.

            Grissom frowned slightly, trying to keep the amusement he felt from showing. “The only person I can think of is David Phillips,” he put forth before, “why?”

            Greg looked disappointed at Grissom’s answer. “Yea, that was the only person I could come up with too but David said that wasn’t his entry.”

            Grissom gave Greg a sideways glance before halting in front of the door that led to the lab’s garage. “Entry?”

            Greg looked up at Grissom, his thoughts interrupted by the fact that he had given himself away. “Ummm…”

            “Greg,” Grissom took on a tone of mock disapproval, “you aren’t cheating, are you?”

            “No, well…not really,” he stammered, unsure if Grissom was messing with him or not. “I’m just…” Greg was at a loss how to explain his gray area of investigative work concerning the entries to the game.

            “Utilizing the necessary skills required to fulfill the investigation?” Grissom supplied.

            Greg smiled. He knew Grissom had a low opinion of most lawyers but Greg could swear the man could speak lawyer-ese when he wanted. “Yea, utilizing skills.”

            “I take it this concerns the game in the breakroom.” Grissom could see that Sara had already started processing the car without him. She tried to hide the smirk on her face by delving under the hood of the vehicle.

            “Yea,” Greg replied sheepishly. The last time the matching game had come up Warrick and Nick had thoroughly trounced him. Greg was determined not to have that happen this time.

            Grissom decided he might help the young man out a little, without giving away too much. “What don’t you have?” He asked, looking at the paper Greg held in his hand.

            Greg bounced with excitement at the hint of assistant. “Number two, eight and seventeen” he answered.

            “Two is Bobby-“

            “From ballistics?’ Greg asked, looking at entry number two on his paper. It was a beer stein made in Germany.

            Grissom nodded. “Bobby was stationed at Ramstein for four years,” he revealed.

            Greg bounced with excitement as he patted his chest and rear looking for a pen. Grissom pulled one from his clipboard and handed it to the grinning man. Jotting down Bobby’s name behind number two, he looked back up expectantly at Grissom. Grissom sighed at the eager eyed investigator before him.

            “I’ll give you a hint on eight and seventeen is all you,” Grissom informed him. “Number eight is from the dayshift

            “Thanks Grissom,” Greg said, bouncing off to find the identity of the next entry on his list.

            Grissom shook his head in amusement before entering the garage. Sara looked up from the car’s motor a mischievous smile upon her face as she took a shop rag and wiped her hands.

            “You aren’t helping Greg get an unfair advantage are you?” Sara asked, feigning shock. “The scandal of it all.”

            Grissom growled something about a scandal involving her in the backseat of the car with no clothes on, which only made Sara giggle and move a safe distance from the man and his lusty thoughts. She knew he would never dare but the idea was definitely something that had appeal.

            “Let’s get to work you…” Sara made sure she was on the other side of the car before finishing her sentence, “cheater.” The playfully shocked look on his face made Sara laugh, the sound never failing to make him smile broadly.

            “Well you two are in a good mood.”

            Grissom turned, smile and all, to see Catherine heading through the garage. She raised her eyebrows in interest at the genuine smile that permeated his face. Grissom was a fifty year old man but when he smiled, truly smiled; it added a very boyish quality to his handsome features.

            “Very good mood,” Catherine added before handing Grissom the lab report she had brought with her.

            Reading it over Grissom could feel Catherine’s questioning gaze upon him. “What?” He asked after finishing with the report and handing it back to her.

            Catherine just raised her eyebrows in response.

            Grissom rolled his eyes and explained, “Sara was debating… the ethics of assisting young Mr. Sanders in his quest to be the Guessing Game champ of the year.”

            “Really… hmmm, an ethics issue involving the very upright, but lately less uptight, Gil Grissom!” Catherine placed her forefinger across her lips and scrunched her shoulders together as she overacted the conspiracy playfully.

            Sara laughed at Catherine’s antics while Grissom just shook his head. He learned long ago that when women teamed up men were in trouble. His best course of action was to go with the current or lay low. Since he couldn’t really sneak away without being seen, going with the flow appeared the best choice.

            “Don’t you have some work to do?” he asked pointedly.

            “Yes,” Catherine winked at Sara, “but giving you hard time is always a nice pick-me-up after a long shift.”

            With that, Catherine took her report and left the garage with a backwards wave. “I’m out of here,” she called out as she exited into the hallway.

            Grissom shook his head and turned to face Sara. Looking over the hood of the vehicle Grissom questioned her, “Aren’t you suppose to be on my side?”

            “Always, babe,” Sara informed him before popping the trunk lid open.

            He gave her a look that promised delicious retribution later before jabbing his forefinger at the task at hand. “Process CSI Sidle,” he playfully ordered.

            “Yes, Supervisor Grissom,” she answered, leaning into the open passenger side door.

            Sara giggled quietly when she heard Grissom groan, knowing he had just ogled her bent backside sticking out the door. She knew it was cruel but sometimes the temptation to get a “rise” out of him was just too strong. And Grissom was definitely a temptation, habit and vice all rolled into one.