Title: Poker Night
By: Shelley and Byron Russell
Series: Working Out 09
Summary: Time for the LVPD crime lab semi-regular monthly poker game with Jim Brass, Warrick Brown, Sofia Curtis, Nick Stokes, and, standing in for Dr. Albert Robbins, Dr. Gil Grissom.
Thanks to my beta Rebecca. Thanks also to my husband who co-wrote this story (and oh for so many other reasons).
Cautionary note: These are four guys and one gal sitting around playing poker, so the humor may be a bit crude for more sensitive palates.

******

Balancing the heavy case of Sierra Nevada Pale on his knee, Nick Stokes buzzed the door to Gil Grissom's townhouse complex. Nick should've opted for Shiner Bock, pride of the Lone Star State, but he honestly liked the taste of the Pale better. Not that he would ever tell anyone that.

"C'mon, Warrick." Dang it. Nick had been standing out here for five minutes at least. It was early evening on Saturday, April 2nd. Time for the LVPD crime lab semi-regular monthly poker game.

Through the security glass, he at last spotted a splash of light on the stairwell followed by the quickly descending form of his best friend. Warrick Brown was barefoot and stuffing the tail of his blue denim shirt into his blue jeans. Nick held his mind back from speculating on why Rick was just now getting dressed.

"'Bout time, bro," Nick huffed when the door opened.

"You're early." Rick turned to head back up the stairs.

"I'm always early. Hey. A little help?" Nick held out the case of Sierra Nevada Pale.

"Heh, yeah, man, as little as possible." But Warrick grabbed the case from Nick and took the stairs two at a time.

"Hey, man, wait up." He might not be as muscular as Rick, but Nick was definitely speedier. He quickly caught up. "So, how did the birthday party go?"

Warrick's grin was brighter than a Nevada sun in July. "Well, let's just say that for Grams's birthday on April 22, Aunt Lucille and Dinah Lee are bringing the fruit salad, and Gris and me are bringing the desserts."

"Congratulations, man."

"Yeah, well, it's still touch and go. Aunt Shirley's not through pitchin' a fit. But, it was beautiful, Nick. I just set the cocoanut cream cake down on the kitchen table, took a step back, and let Lucille and Bertha go to work on Shirley. Whew. Word, man, never stand in the way of a couple of sisters on a mission. Think we'll be sending them to the Middle East, next. Get Cousin Nabilah home."

"She the one working transport in the National Guard?"

"Yep. Yo, Gris," Warrick called out as they walked into the townhouse's open door. "Beer man's here."

"Hey, Nick," Grissom's welcoming voice filtered out of the kitchen. The sound of warm jazz and the scent of garlic and baking bread filled the living room. Lord almighty, it was like walking into Uncle Angelo's Pizzeria during noon rush. Nick's taste buds shifted into overdrive.

"Hey, Gris. That smells great."

"Yeah, we decided on homemade pizza," Rick grinned. "I helped by staying out of the kitchen." The grin grew wider. "Most of the time."

He walked into the kitchen, set the case down by the refrigerator, and started stacking the cool bottles inside. "Want one?"

"Don't mind if I do," Nick grabbed a bottle, twisted off the cap, took a sip, and leaned up against the doorway, watching Grissom watch his boyfriend. Gris was dressed in a red and yellow flannel shirt and blue jeans. He wore his sleeves half-way up his arms and his glasses half-way down his nose while he worked at the kitchen island grating cheese. He was barefoot, too. Nick smiled. Two people Nick would've never put together in a million years, yet somehow they clicked.

Grissom's all-knowing, amused blue eyes settled on Nick. More for something to say than for a real need to say it, Nick drawled, "Kind of you to volunteer your place at the last minute."

"I've been told I need to become more sociable."

"Baby, all I said was that your place would work better for the game than mine." Rick shoved in the last bottle and turned to look at his boyfriend. "Doc Robbins's basement is too perfect for cards. Makes everybody else's place seem pathetic."

Nick grinned at the word 'baby.' He couldn't help it. And grinning was better than passing out, after all. He said, "Good thing Al isn't here to smell the pizza. We'd have to hear him bitch and moan about his diet all night."

"While he eats another slice."

"Well, as long as I'm standing in for Al, I can do the bitching and moaning," Grissom offered.

"No!" Warrick and Nick answered together.

"Pity. I had a whole routine worked up." Gris shrugged and went back to grating cheese.

"Yeah, I just bet you did, baby." Rick cruised by his boyfriend, kissed him on the neck, then disappeared down the hall.

Nick felt a little uncomfortable with the physical aspects of their relationship. Not a freaking-out-at-the-two-faggots kind of way, but just in a third-wheel kind of way. He sipped his beer and turned his attention to the townhouse living room.

Nick thought that more would have changed since he'd last visited, especially with the acquisition of a boyfriend. Man, whenever Nick had a girlfriend stay longer than three months, his apartment always ended up looking more like hers than his: frou-frou candles, figurines, stuffed animals, and other bric-a-brac shit. With the exception of the giant leather sectional in the living room, Grissom's place looked pretty much the same as it had four years ago. Wonder when he bought the couch?

"Nice couch, Gris."

"Thanks."

Nick waited for more then shook his head. Well, Grissom sure hadn't become a man of many words since acquiring a boyfriend, either.

Strolling over to the sound system, Nick inspected the racks of CDs and listened to the warm riffs of the jazz trio on the stereo. Had Gris always liked jazz or was this Warrick's influence? It was elemental jazz. Melodic. Nick liked it, but couldn't help himself, especially considering that Rick had just walked back into the kitchen. This time with boots on.

"Hey, Gris? Got any country music? And 'The Boston Pops play George Jones and Tammy Wynette' doesn't count."

Nick grinned as Warrick shot an evil look at his best friend, but Grissom simply wiped his hands, crossed over to the CD racks, picked out a jewel case, and tossed it to Nick. "This genuine country enough for you?"

Surprised, Nick said, "The Flatlanders?" He turned to Warrick, "You ever listen to this?"

Rick scoffed, "What do you think?"

"Jimmie Dale Gilmore," Gris continued. "A voice as mournful as the West Texas Wind."

"And twice as deadly," Warrick came up behind Gris and wrapped long arms around him.

"Philistine," Gris said with complete affection and leaned back against his boyfriend.

Nick liked seeing this Grissom: relaxed, playful, goofy. Nick was also impressed. "You actually bought this?"

Grissom looked offended. "Would I pass up an album that features a singing saw?"

Nick blinked, "Uh, no. I guess not."

Sitting down on the sofa, Nick opened up the jewel box and looked at the CD. He felt something uncomfortable snug against his lower back. He pulled a weird looking pillow out from behind him and decided that it was the ugliest stuffed animal he'd ever seen: orange and black with six black legs. Only Grissom would be able to find a toy stuffed bug. Nick tossed the bug to the end of the couch then pretended to read the liner notes while keeping a surreptitious eye on Gris and Warrick.

Grissom worked quickly, efficiently in the kitchen, slicing, dicing, and grating while Rick wordlessly snatched a shred of cheese or a slice of pepperoni or a quick kiss. Nick liked seeing this side of his best friend, too. Warrick was totally relaxed, not competing, not trying to impress, not worried about playing it cool. It was weird how right they seemed. Like they'd been together for years instead of months.

The downstairs doorbell buzzed. Warrick grabbed another kiss then loped out of the kitchen and down the steps to answer the door. Nick heard the voices of their other poker buddies, Sofia Curtis and Jim Brass.

"Wow," Sofia said as she came into the living room, looking around appreciatively, yet analytically, as only a criminalist can do. "The inner sanctum. At last."

Nick envied her gunslinger walk. You could almost hear spurs jangling when she entered a room. She was dressed in black cowboy boots, black jeans, and a purple and blue western style shirt, long sleeves rolled up just below the elbow. She carried a wooden cigar box under her arm, and she barely nodded to Nick before she started poring over the bookshelves.

"Cigar lady and chip man have arrived," Warrick called out to his boyfriend. Then again, Nick felt the shift in Warrick's voice. Make that just friend. Now that Sofia and Jim were here.

"Hey, Nick," Jim waved, strictly casual in a rust colored polo shirt and tan khakis. He plunked a cardboard box filled with poker chips and two unopened decks of cards down on the dining room table, now given over to serve as poker table until midnight. Or until winner takes all. Whichever came first. "Hey, Gil, where do you keep the roller coaster?"

"In the basement," Grissom called out from the kitchen. "Along with my Junior G-Man Chemistry Set."

"Well, give me a beer now, and you can give me the tour later." Nick watched Jim home in on the refrigerator.

The semi-regular poker game had started years ago when Brass was still in charge of CSI. Its membership waxed and waned frequently. Cops and lab techs, criminalists and MEs. Didn't matter. You just had to have 250 dollars, a thick skin, and a tolerance for cigar smoke. Having the instincts of a killer poker shark didn't hurt, either.

Rick plopped down on the sofa beside Nick. "You know we're gonna get our asses handed to us tonight, right?"

"Well, we're pretty much here for our pretty faces and money, anyway. You'd think we'd be used to having our butts served up at these shindigs." He watched Sofia's progress around the living room as she scanned framed insects, various artifacts, stacks of books. Looking for clues. "I live in hope that one day the big dogs'll take each other out, and it'll just be you and me, bro, all alone at the table with a 'Close Encounters' mound of chips piled between us."

"Dream on, man. At least Al would take pity on us. Pretend to fall for one of my bluffs. Slip you an ace. Gris won't spot us shit."

"Tonight is for observation, my friend." Nick looked toward the kitchen. Sofia had joined Jim and Gris to grab a beer and jaw about the latest Ecklie idiocy. It was like watching three hungry sharks circle quietly in bloodless waters.

Unconsciously, Nick picked at the beer label with his thumb. "Gris seems cool with everybody being here."

"Pretty much."

"You explained the rules?"

"Minimum raise 4 bucks? Maximum raise 8 bucks? First one out buys the beer next time? Winner buys the cigars? No talking about bodies, blood, and bugs? Emphasis on the bugs? Yeah," Warrick nodded. He glanced toward the kitchen, then added, "He's a little uncomfortable with Sofia being here, though."

"Why? Did you tell him she tends to get a little raunchy?"

"Nah. Didn't say a thing." Mischievous green eyes and a dimpled grin turned Nick's way, "Gris said, and I quote, 'I feel somewhat uncomfortable winning hard-earned cash from someone I supervise.' Unquote."

Nick's dark eyes grew round. Then he burst into laughter. The sharks looked out from the kitchen and smiled.

******

"Okay, if you were stranded on a desert island--" Nick smirked as the groans rained down on him.

"I'd be thinking about how much I'd like to be back in Vegas so I could dunk your head in the toilet," Brass snorted, shuffling the deck. They'd played four hands so far. Gris was already the chip leader, though Sofia was right on his heels.

"Well, I sure wouldn't be watching episodes of 'Lost' anymore," Sofia puffed on her Montecristo no. 3 cigar.

"Nick does this every freakin' time we play," Warrick explained to Gris.

Nick loved how everyone pretended to hate the standard questions but enjoyed competing with each other to come up with the best answer.

"Ahem, as I was saying, if you were stranded on a desert island, what one popular music CD would you take with you?" Nick took one look at Grissom, who was just opening his mouth to object, and added, "And you had an endless supply of batteries to power your CD player."

"CD player?" Sofia scoffed. "Those batteries would go straight into my vibrator." Sofia was nothing if not blunt. But her candor always magnified during poker. It tended to unsettle the competition.

"I had a buddy in Honduras who recharged batteries by leaving them out in the sun," Jim reminisced, shuffling the cards one more time before beginning to deal.

"What the hell were you doin' in Honduras?" Warrick knocked ash into the growing mound in one of the petri dishes Gris had scrounged for ash trays.

"C'mon, now, no rabbit trails," Nick said, taking a puff on his cigar then laying out the small blind bet. He watched Warrick follow with the large blind. "Your one CD?"

Sofia blew a lovely plume of smoke into the air, "'Slippery When Wet' by Bon Jovi. I was listening to it when I lost my virginity."

"To your vibrator?" Gris asked innocently, glancing at his cards. He threw in the minimum $4 bet.

"No, to Tommy Jankowicz. I went right back to the vibrator, though. Call." She threw in $4, too.

"Love the one you're with," Jim shrugged, picking up his two cards.

"'Slippery When Wet,' hmm?" Warrick took a swig of Sierra Nevada Pale, looked thoughtful, then grinned, "That came out in, uh, 1986?"

"What a coincidence. So did I," Gris smirked. Nick almost dropped his cards while Sofia and Jim hooted. Warrick looked as stunned as Nick felt. He caught the almost wink Gris shot to his boyfriend.

Sofia recovered, "Just because the album came out in '86, Investigator Brown, that doesn't mean I lost my cherry in '86."

"We gonna play some poker, here?" Jim growled, putting in the maximum bet.

Uh oh, Nick knew to fold. Brass had to have a great hand if he'd rather play poker than listen to Sofia talk about sex. Nick flushed his cards. He tried to warn Warrick, but Mr. Thrill-Seeker wasn't paying attention.

"Let's make things interesting," Warrick said as he covered Jim's bet and added eight dollars worth of his own. Nick shook his head.

Nick watched Grissom's emotionless blue eyes study Jim then shift to Warrick. A slight smile, a flicker of caution that Warrick ignored, then Gris pitched his hand.

Sofia twirled her cigar, put it to her mouth. While she stared at her cards, she moved the cigar slightly in and out, tonguing the end. For all the world like she was giving the slowest cigar blow job ever. She paused and looked around the table. Every man's eyes were on her.

"Look, boys, even Freud said that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Gris smiled, "Freud also said, 'Smoking is indispensable . . . if one has nothing to kiss.'"

"Is that an offer, Grissom?"

Gris smiled enigmatically. Shooting his boyfriend a curious glance, Warrick turned not-so-friendly green eyes on Sofia, "According to women I've dated, once you've smoked a cigar, kissing is out of the question."

She smirked, "Well, Mr. Brown, I'll be sure to avoid kissing any women you've dated."

Feeling a need to redirect the conversation, Nick asked, "Uhhh, what about you, Jim? What's your CD?"

"Oh," Brass replied, sipping his beer then puffing his cigar. "I'm not much for music. I guess I'd have to say Carly Simon, 'No Secrets,' the first LP I ever bought."

"Right," said Warrick. "'You're So Vain.' That's the album with the floppy hat and the, um . . . ." His large hands gestured vaguely in front of his chest.

"Nipples?" suggested Jim. "Yeah, I was walking by the record rack in Bamberger's Department Store in Newark, and those naughty babies just called out to me." He took a swig of his beer. "I've still got that album, by the way--no record player anymore, of course, just the album. I think about throwing it out now and then, but I just can't bear to part with them--it."

"I hear ya," agreed Nick.

"That's the one thing I miss about Jersey," Jim said wistfully.

"Records or nipples?" Warrick looked confused.

Jim took another swallow. "Tight blouses and cool breezes, young man. Not enough of either in Vegas . . . . Present company excepted."

"It's perfectly natural," added Grissom. "Erect nipples can signify sexual arousal, of course, but they also--"

"Made you look!" Jim chortled, turning on Sofia.

"I did not!" Her blue eyes snapped up from looking at her chest, guilt and innocence warring in her expression. "I did not," she repeated, scanning the table for support and finding none.

"You're busted, girl," Nick confirmed.

"A double entendre, Nicky?" Grissom looked impressed.

"Huh?"

"You see, Sofie," Jim leaned back in his chair and blew a stream of cigar smoke, "these little games cut both ways."

Sofia pursed her lips and glared.

That was Nick's cue. "Hey, Gris? What would be your CD?"

"Flight of the Bumblebee?" Jim offered, self-confident, and, now, self-satisfied.

"Beethoven's Ninth Symphony."

"Lose your virginity to it?" Warrick grinned, cigar clenched in his teeth.

"If that's gonna be a requirement, how can Stokes pick a record?" Jim snarked.

"Har de har, Brassman. Gris, it's supposed to be popular music."

"It's popular with me."

"Nick, give it up man," Warrick shook his head.

Nick took a puff on his cigar. "Okay, big guy, what CD would you have?"

"Man, I wouldn't need a CD." Warrick tapped long fingers on his skull, "I carry my music in here everywhere I go."

Except for Grissom, everyone else at the table rolled their eyes. Nick groaned, "You are so full of it, Rick."

"Got the music in me, man," Warrick grinned. "Don't need George Strait, Tim McGraw, or any other twangin' fool to keep me company."

"Don't be hatin' on country music, dawg. Them's fightin' words."

"Sofie, are you gonna bet sometime this century?" Jim growled.

"Sometime this century but not in this game. I fold."

"Well, CSI3 Brown, it's just you and me," Jim drew on his cigar, blew out solid blue smoke, set down his cigar, then tossed in 8 chips to match Warrick's bet. "And 8 more to keep things interesting."

Warrick had a great poker face, but Nick could just tell his friend held lousy cards. Still, in for a penny. "I like interesting." Warrick raised Jim again. Jim called.

"Well, let's see what the flop has to say." Jim dealt three cards face up on the table. A ten of spades, a seven of clubs, and a three of hearts. Cards that were unlikely to help anybody with a decent hand. Maybe there was hope for Warrick after all.

Warrick bet the maximum again. Not a good sign. Nick couldn't bear to watch and pushed back from the table. "Anybody want more pizza or another brewski?"

Getting a negative from everyone, Nick wandered into the kitchen. Some classical music, something that sounded vaguely familiar, was now streaming from the stereo. Nick smiled. A relationship's all about compromise. Especially when two forceful personalities like Warrick and Gris pop together. Like oil and water. No, maybe more like water and stone. Grissom's sharp edges smoothed away by Rick's joy. Rick's anger tempered by Grissom's calm.

Nick grabbed another beer, eyed the remaining pizza, gave in to temptation. Tack another mile onto the treadmill. If Nick had known that Grissom was such a great cook, hell, Nick might've slept with Gris.

"Sheee-it." Nick heard Warrick's disappointed voice from the living room.

A slice of warm pizza in one hand, a cold beer in the other, Nick sauntered out of the kitchen, singing a Kenny Rogers' country classic off-key, "You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run." He pointed his beer at Warrick, "Gonna listen to country music, now, amigo?"

******

"So, if you were stranded on a desert island--"

"Here we go again," Jim muttered.

"Hey, bro, couldn't we be stranded in a tropical paradise this time?" Warrick smiled around his second Montecristo of the evening.

"No, man, it's the law." Nick gaveled the table. "Desert island. End of story."

Nick was feeling that good buzz that comes from being with great friends, having great conversation, eating great food, smoking great cigars, and drinking a great amount of beer. It's the only excuse he could later give for coming out with:

"Now, if you were stranded on a desert island, which one of your co-workers would you want to be stranded with?"

Four pair of surprised eyes stared at him. Thinking it might somehow help, he added, "Uh, present company excepted, of course."

"Sara," Grissom said without a pause.

Nick glanced at Warrick who looked, well, dumbfounded.

Sofia smiled, "Why, tell us more, Dr. Grissom."

Gris shrugged, "She's had survival training. I could probably tell what was safe to eat, but she's much faster at building a fire. Who better to be stranded with?"

As Warrick bit back a grin, Nick shook his head, "Um, Gris, that wasn't exactly what I was gettin' at. Which one of your co-workers would you want to be stranded with for, um, romantic purposes."

"Oh," Grissom blushed and flicked a glance at Warrick. "Well . . . never mind, then."

Jim decided to humor Nick. "Catherine. In a heart beat."

A slurred smile, "So, you're secretly jonesing for my boss?"

"Man, that's no secret," Rick shook his head. "Some trained investigator you are."

"Well, hoss, I reckon you would be keeping an eye on the competition," Nick snorted. He didn't see the apologetic look Warrick flashed to Grissom.

Jim tapped ash from his cigar, "I flirt with her all the time."

Sofia coughed, "You do not flirt with her, Jim. You don't know how to flirt."

"I do so."

"You do not," she stated firmly then quirked her lips. "Grissom, now Grissom knows how to flirt."

Stunned blue eyes looked up from his cards, "I do?"

"You do," Warrick and Nick said at the same time. They looked at each other then started laughing.

"Yeah, you do," Sofia smiled at Gris, then she pointed her cigar at Jim. "You . . . you don't have the foggiest."

"Give me an example."

"All right. You saying, 'Catherine, how about we spend the night at a motel' is not flirting."

"The Bellagio is not a 'motel.'"

Blue eyes back on his cards, Grissom said, "Jim, you want to call me or raise me?"

"Oh, uh, call."

"That's not the point. A woman doesn't want a battleship steaming straight at her. She needs a little finesse."

"Yeah," Warrick leaned in, "think sailing ship rather than battleship, Cap'n."

"O, Captain! My Captain! Rise up and hear the bells," Grissom declaimed. He didn't notice that no one recognized the poem.

Sofia was all business. "Look, if you really want to bait her hook, let her see you make a pass at me."

"Me-ow," Warrick rumbled.

"Hey," Nick pacified, "why cain't you ladies just git along?" The more tired he got, the more buzzed he got, the more Texan he got.

Sofia raised her eyebrows. "I guess because one of us ladies isn't ready to trust the other one."

Jim finally dealt the last card face up. The river card. And Grissom won another hand. He raked in the chips and stacked them up.

"Hey, Gris, how big is your stack, now?" Surely the innuendo lurking in Rick's voice was Nick's imagination.

A soft, flirty smile. "Why, sir, a gentleman never tells."

Catching the sharp look Sofia shot Warrick then Gris, Nick reached a little unsteadily for the cards and began to shuffle.

"So, Sofie," Jim sat back in his chair and took a swig of beer, "I've shared my ideal co-worker with all and sundry. Now, present company excepted," he nodded to Nick, "who are you gonna pick?"

Sofia watched Nick shuffle. She scrubbed her chin with the knuckles of her left hand. "Hmmm. I guess I'd have to go with . . . Catherine."

Cards exploded across the table and onto the floor. Nick knew he looked stunned. Well, assuming he looked like two of the other three gents at the table.

Sofia smirked, "Oh, I guess I should've saved that line for the next hand."

"Don't worry, lady," Warrick helped Nick pick up the cards. "We'll all have that image seared in our heads for the rest of the game."

"So," Gris cocked his head. "I'm confused. You and Catherine are talking, now?"

She snorted, "Grissom, we wouldn't have to talk."

"Oh." The image finally seared itself into Grissom's head. "Ohhh."

Sofia looked disgustedly around the table. "What is it about guys watching two women having sex? There's a scene like that in every porn flick, and the story just grinds to a halt."

"They have stories?" Jim said. "Wouldn't know myself. You should ask Gil. He likes to watch."

Grissom flicked a glance over his glasses at Brass and considered a response.

Nick gave the cards one last careful shuffle then quickly dealt before Gris launched on a scientific explanation for why guys get off seeing girls get it on.

But Sofia was on a roll. "And why is every guy in a porn flick wearing a wristwatch? He doesn't want to be late for his six o'clock blow job?"

"Probably afraid the camera crew would steal it if he took it off," Warrick muttered, staring disgustedly at his cards.

"Is that observation based on personal experience?" she leered.

"Hey, let's git this train back on track," Nick directed. "Okay, Jim chooses Catherine, Sofia chooses Catherine." Nick then pointed at Warrick, "Rick, who would you pick--present company excepted?"

Warrick looked daggers at Nick for the coda. "Catherine," he said defiantly.

"Oh, now that's a surprise," Brass monotoned.

"Day-um! Orgy next Thursday at Catherine's," Nick chortled.

"You wanna join us, Nick?" Hey. Warrick didn't sound too friendly all of a sudden.

"Nah."

"Anyone want to play a little poker?" Gris asked quietly. They all looked at their two hold cards.

"Fold." Warrick sighed, tossing his cards face down on the table.

Grissom put in the minimum raise.

Sofia hesitated. She considered the two cards in her left hand as she ran the fingers of her right over a stack of ten dollar chips. She picked up the stack, slowly let the stack settle chip by chip onto the table. Then she ran her fingers over the stack again, pausing to caress the top chip with her thumb. She moved her hand over the stack as if she were giving the slowest hand job ever. Nick, Warrick, and Brass stared, mesmerized.

"Fold," she said and looked up from her cards, seeing the men's eyes fixed on her right hand. "What?"

"Call," Jim choked then looked at his cards. "Fuck! I meant to raise. Oh, fuck. I shouldn't have said that."

Nick exchanged a look with Grissom. If Brass was going to raise on the first round of betting, then he had to have a hell of a hand. Nick and Gris folded.

"Touche," Grissom said, throwing an appreciative smile at Sofia. She acknowledged with a seated curtsy.

Jim glared at her, "Two aces. I had two aces, missy."

"He coulda been a contender," Warrick grinned, shuffling the cards. "He coulda been somebody."

"Hey, you do a pretty good Marlon Brando there, pardner," Nick said as Warrick dealt the cards.

"Which movie?" Sofia peeked at her hold cards.

"'On the Waterfront.' Saw it last weekend," Warrick smiled softly and flicked a glance at his boyfriend.

Sofia caught the glance and pursed her lips in contemplation.

Brass, on the other hand, scowled. He glared at his cards for a beat then glared at Sofia. He folded sullenly. "Two aces," he grumbled.

Nick looked at his cards. Hot damn. He held an ace and a king, the best cards he'd had all night. C'mon, Stokes, play this smart. Don't rush it. Easy, man, bet enough to get the suckers to throw some money in the pot. He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he put in the minimum bet.

"Damn," Warrick sighed. "You'd think I could deal myself some decent cards." His two cards joined Jim's discarded hand.

Grissom glanced at his cards then at Nick. Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Nick met the appraising stare. He swallowed down a relieved sigh when Grissom raised the maximum.

Sofia studied her cards, shook her head, and pitched her hand. "Think I'm gonna grab a beer. Jim, you want one?"

"I want my two aces back."

Sofia smirked off to the kitchen.

So, it was down to Nick and Gris. Nick only had $48 worth of chips left, and he sat across the table, square in Grissom's sights. Well, Nick at least had to see the flop. He tossed in 8 bucks. "Call."

Warrick dealt three cards face up. A jack, an eight, and a king. Hot damn. Nick had two kings.

Gris bet the maximum $8, and Nick covered it and raised. Gris called. Nick had 24 chips left. Warrick dealt the turn card.

An ace. Hot damn. Hot diggity damn. Nick held two kings and two aces. A strong hand in Texas Hold 'Em. Very strong. Extremely strong.

Nick tried not to lick his chops as Gris again bet the maximum. Nick covered the bet and raised Gris the same. 16 chips left.

Cool blue eyes settled on blazing brown then dropped to the paltry stack of chips Nick had in front of him. Pursing his lips, Gris bet the max again.

Nick boldly went all in, shoving his remaining 16 chips into the pot.

"So long, it's been good to know ya," Warrick sang.

"Miracles do happen--" Nick began.

"Oh, ye, of little faith," Gris finished, pushing in 8 chips and calling Nick's bet.

"Let's see what you two titans have," Jim smiled.

Nick proudly put down his ace and king, only to look across the table to see two jacks staring up at him. In addition to the jack already in the flop. It didn't seem right, but three of a kind beat two pair every time.

"Take us to the river, Warrick," Gris deadpanned.

Shit, shit, shit. Nick had a better chance of pulling an ace or a king out of his ass than pulling one out of the deck.

"Luck be a lady tonight," Warrick sang as he dealt one card into the discard pile then turned the next face up. It was a five of diamonds.

"Looks like she's a bitch tonight. Just like every other poker night," Nick sighed and pushed back his chair.

"Guess you'll be bringing the beer again next time, huh," Warrick teased, as Grissom gathered up his chips and the cards.

"Hey, bud, here but for the grace of god and $50 worth of chips sits you."

"Yeah, man, that makes, what, four times in a row?"

Fresh cold bottle in one hand, Sofia reached across the table with the other and patted Nick's arm, "That's okay, Nicky. I really like the beer you bring."

"Gee. Thanks." Nick got up from the table and walked a little unsteadily out of the living room, down the hall, and right into the guest bathroom, his wounded pride and sloshing bladder hurting with every step. One thing about beer. You only rent it for a short while.

******

Warrick was shuffling the cards again by the time Nick got back to the table. He had picked up another bottle of Sierra Nevada Pale in consolation and watched a little enviously as Warrick smoothly and skillfully made the cards fly together.

"So, Nick, since you've got some extra time on your hands, now," Brass smiled to take the sting away as Nick regained his seat. "Why don't you tell us which fascinating filly has captured your attention?" At his puzzled look, Jim added, "The co-worker you'd like to bop on the desert island."

"Oh." Nick blushed.

"Ooooh. Must be good," Sofia's eyes glowed.

"Well, uh, I think Dr. Menken is kinda hot."

Sofia didn't recognize the name. "Who's this?"

"Dr. Jessie Menken, a local vet. She helps us out on occasion."

"She performed a necropsy on a race horse and consulted on the toxin level of poisonous snakes," Gris added, fascinated by Warrick's theatrical card shuffling.

"That Asian woman?" asked Sofia. "Menken? What, is she married?"

She looked from face to face and was rewarded with blank looks and shrugs. Except for Grissom. He seemed to be on another planet altogether.

"You guys are hopeless! Was she wearing a ring?"

More blank looks. More shrugs.

"If she was a murder suspect, you'd all know whether she was wearing a ring and what size it was!"

"Five and a half," said Grissom.

"What?"

"Five and a half," he repeated. "Dr. Menken's ring size. Assuming that you're referring to the third finger of her left hand."

Sofia opened her mouth before realizing that she didn't have a snappy comeback, so she quickly changed tack and tone.

"A veterinarian, eh?" she said, grinning slyly at Grissom. "You think she likes doing it doggie style?"

Gris looked up over his glasses, "I know I certainly do."

For a second time that night, cards exploded across the table and onto the floor. Nick glanced at Warrick whose face was burning. He dived for the floor to collect the cards. Nick dove in after.

He heard Sofia's sultry voice, "You guys wanna play poker or 52 pick up?"

Then Jim's gravel voice, "Maybe they want to look up your dress?"

A snort. "Well, that might work if I ever wore a dress."

Nick and Warrick managed to collect the cards then took their seats. Warrick was staring at Gris as if he had completely lost his mind.

"I've seen you in a dress," Grissom winked at Sofia. "I've seen you getting out of a dress." He set out the small blind bet.

"Why, yes, you have. Our first night together." She set out the chips for the large blind and trailed her fingers back across the table, caressing its top like it was the finest velvet.

"And what a night it was," Grissom's voice caressed back.

"You were so handsome in your tux." Sofia moistened her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. "And the penthouse suite! How ever did you arrange that?"

"You deserved no less."

"Deal the cards, man," Nick muttered, watching Warrick's large hands gripping the deck as if he could squeeze the cards into dust.

Warrick could not have had a clearer "what the fuck is going on, boyfriend" look on his face if he'd tried.

"So, Dr. Grissom, who do you want to do the doggie with?" Sofia's appraising eyes slid from Gris to Warrick. "Present company excepted, of course."

Eyes on Warrick's long fingers flicking the cards, Grissom cocked his head, "Mia seems nice."

Warrick seemed surprised at the answer, while Sofia shook her head. "You might have a chance with her if you wear latex gloves, two condoms, and a surgical mask."

Jim nodded, "The young lady does possess an unnatural dislike for precious bodily fluids not her own."

"Anything for science," Gris shrugged. Then, looking straight at Sofia, he added, "But you forgot the dental dam. I wouldn't."

"Dental dam?" Sofia leaned forward onto her elbows. "You intrigue me, Dr. Grissom."

Hey, had that button on her blouse been undone when she got here?

"Calm down, Sofie," said Brass, eyes on cards, hand on chips. "It's Miss Mia he's proposing to 'intrigue.' In which case, by the way," he continued, looking up to address the others, "a ladder might be more practical."

The others dissolved into snorts and chuckles. Except for Warrick. He stood out by his silence.

"She is a tall drink o'water," said Nick, hoping to divert attention from his friend.

Jim sighed, "I'd pay good money to see those long legs in stilettos, stockings, and garters."

"I might chip in," Sofia smirked, "if she wore stilettos, stockings, garters . . . and nothing else!"

Brass turned sideways in his chair, addressing Sofia directly, "Young lady, am I going have to talk to your mother?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Sofia said softly, eyes turning to the tabletop. "I try not to."

Grissom started. He glanced at Sofia with . . . what? Curiosity? Tenderness? Understanding?

"Are we gonna play cards here?" Warrick barked.

Oh ho. Nick wasn't sure exactly what, if anything, had gone on between Gris and Sofia, wasn't sure what was going on between Gris and Warrick. But Nick knew for a fact that Warrick was rapidly losing his cool. And people were starting to notice.

"Okay, okay," said Nick. "Fun is fun, Sofie--"

Sofia's angry glare robbed him of his voice. What had he done? "Uh, fun is fun," he started again, and then it dawned. "So-fee-ah," he said carefully, "What lucky man at LVPD would you take to the desert island?"

"I gave you my answer," Sofia said coldly.

"C'mon Sof-Sofia, be serious."

"What makes you think I'm not serious, Nicky?" She looked around at the faces once again. "Look, each one of you guys picked a woman, and I picked a woman. If you want me to pick a man, let's hear what men you guys'd do the doggie with. Jim?"

"That ain't gonna happen," Brass said with finality.

"Guys?" Sofia looked at Nick. He swallowed and tried to look like he didn't understand the question. Warrick looked nervous. Grissom looked . . . . Well, Nick couldn't read Grissom. Evidently, neither could Sofia. She snapped, "Let's play cards."

Nick watched as, for the first time that night, all players focused on poker. At least on the surface.

After several rounds of bets, Brass bailing before the flop, Grissom, Warrick, and Sofia were left contesting the biggest pot of the night. A two, three, four, and ten of varying suits lay on the table. Warrick had maybe 20 bucks worth of chips left. Sofia maybe 50. Gris, well, Gris was putting Midas to shame. Sofia was just about to bet on the river when Grissom said, "Hodges."

Nick, along with everyone else at the table, looked at Grissom, who was looking expectantly at Sofia.

"Hodges?" She asked uncertainly.

"Hodges seems nice."

She blinked at Gris, clueless.

"Present company excepted, Hodges is the male co-worker I'd choose." Then Gris growled, "Doggie style."

Nick watched Sofia's jaw drop. She stared at Gris, stared at her cards. She blinked, trying to focus, trying to hide the look of utter revulsion on her face. At last, she threw her cards down. "Oh, fuck it. I fold."

She looked hard at Grissom, who slowly took on a look of pure self-satisfaction. Abruptly pushing her chair from the table, she leapt to her feet. "Anybody want a beer?" she snapped then pointed at Gris, "Not you."

"What did I say?" The innocence of an angel. An angel of hell.

Sofia stalked off into the kitchen.

"Well played, Dr. Grissom." Jim tilted his beer bottle toward Gris. "I salute you."

"Why, thank you, Captain Brass."

Nick watched Gris turn his angel's face to his boyfriend. Warrick was slowly shaking his head. "No way. No fucking way I can play poker with that picture in my head. I'm out. For good." He glared at Grissom who seemed surprised at Rick's reaction. Warrick then got up and headed down the hallway, obviously avoiding Sofia in the kitchen.

"So, Nick," Jim rumbled, "if you were stranded on a desert island--"

Nick blanched, and the sharks laughed.

******

"Remember to put those cigars in a humidor."

Nick watched Brass pick up the half empty cigar box, "Hey, Sofie, I've been winning these cigars since long before you joined the game."

"No offense intended, Jim."

"And none taken."

It was a quarter after midnight. Brass had won the last scheduled hand, barely scraping by Grissom for the most chips and the night's victory.

"A nightcap, Jim?" Gris asked. "There's beer left."

"Oh, no, no, no. I'm probably still blowing the limit. Think I'll take my swag and head home. But, Gil, just between us, what were you thinking trying to bluff me with a ten and a six?"

Grissom shrugged and lifted his eyebrows, "Must've been a senior moment."

"Yeah." Brass looked like he'd just been lied to. "Right. Well, I'm off for home. Sofie, walk out with me?"

"Gotta make a pit stop first. Why don't you ask one of the boys to escort you?"

"In that case, I think I'll find my own way, thanks. Night all."

Nick waved good night to Brass as Sofia started for the kitchen.

"Down the hall and to your right," Warrick snapped out the directions to the guest bathroom. Ever since the Hodges incident, Nick's best friend had been hovering just inches from surly.

"Thanks," Sofia ambled down the hall with a curious, thoughtful look on her face.

Nick shot Warrick a warning glance. As the door closed behind Jim, Warrick headed straight for his boyfriend. Oblivious, Gris headed for the kitchen. Shrugging, Nick followed them into the kitchen.

"What the fuck was all that about?" Warrick's voice was low and intense.

Oh, god, Rick, Gris don't have a clue. Nick shook his head slowly and immediately felt dizzy. Whoa. He steadied himself against the door frame.

"All that?" Grissom opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. He was obviously trying to understand Warrick's question.

"Is this some kind of payback?"

Grissom blinked and opened his mouth but nothing came out. Clueless indeed.

"Boyfriend, you know what I'm talking about. All that with Sofia."

"Sofia?"

"Yeah. Sofia. The blonde-headed woman you supervise at the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

Grissom got a clue, but it was the wrong one. He huffed dismissively, "You mean the poker. She was trying to throw us off our game."

Well, Nick thought that was pretty charitable of Gris. Neither Nick nor Warrick actually had much of a game when it came to poker. But that was an observation Nick decided not to share when Rick was in mid-rant.

"That what you think, baby? Looked to me like she was more interested in throwing you out of your pants than off your game."

Gris looked shocked. "But she was being suggestive with everyone."

"But wasn't nobody being suggestive back except you. Lose your virginity to a vibrator? I've seen you get out of a dress? What a night it was? And," Warrick sputtered, "and doggie style?!"

"Anima," Grissom said, confused by his boyfriend's passion. "We were on a case. She changed from her dress into coveralls."

"And you watched? And she let you watch?"

"She changed out of the dress after she was in the coveralls."

Warrick just stared. He'd expected better than that!

"Ricky, Ricky, Ricky," Nick broke in. "You know he couldn't make that up, bro. Let it go."

"Mind your own business, man."

Looking intently at Warrick, Grissom quoted, "'I understand a fury in your words. But not the words.'"

"Shakespeare ain't gonna help your ass out this time," Warrick snapped.

"Shakespeare?" Nick asked.

"Desdemona to Othello, Act 4, scene 2," Grissom supplied.

Othello. Hmm. Hey. Wasn't that another black man who wanted to strangle a white woman?

Befuddled blue and furious green eyes turned on Nick, whose dark eyes grew round. "Uh, dang, I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Out of the corner of one bleary brown eye, Nick caught movement in the hall. Funny. Looked like Sofia came out of the door on the left rather than the one on the right. "Uh, guys, it's, uh, Desde--uh, Sofia."

Warrick stepped away from Gris just before her spurs rattled into the kitchen.

"Well, guys, that was fun," she said, then looked sharply at Grissom. "Mostly."

Gris had a hard time shifting back into host mode. He blinked a few times then said, "Ah, well, I'm . . . glad."

She smirked,"You boys gonna walk me outside?" She looked only at Rick.

"I'm helping Grissom clean up," Rick said curtly.

"Of course you are," Sofia smiled.

"Uh, hey, I'll walk you out."

"Thank you, Nicky."

Nick pushed himself away from the door frame and promptly walked into the kitchen island, caromed into the refrigerator, and stumbled toward the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Warrick said, grabbing his buddy's arm, deciding that some things were more important than being mad at your lover. "Let me get you a cab."

"That's okay, Rick," said Sofia, taking Nick's other arm. "I'll drive him home."

"No, no, no," Nick mumbled. "You . . . you drank as much as I did."

"If you think that," Sofia smiled, "then you really have had too much to drink. C'mon, Nicky, I don't bite. Mostly."

"Whut about muh jeep?" Dang. How many beers had he downed?

Warrick sighed, "That's what cabs are for, buddy."

"Well . . . okay," Nick said, finally, giving Sofia a suspicious look. "I'll chance it. But I can walk out on my own." Pulling away from them, Nick took a step and started to sway.

"Man, you can barely stand up on your own."

"I'm good. I'm good. Dang. Make the floor stop moving."

"Oh, have it your way," Sofia sighed. Men! "I'll be downstairs." She turned to leave then paused. "And Grissom . . . thanks for the entertaining and very . . . stimulating evening."

Even Gris couldn't miss that innuendo. He blinked a couple of times and glanced at a still angry Warrick. And that was the moment Grissom finally put two and two together. His blue eyes widened. His mouth fell open. "I-I-I've got to . . . ," he trailed off as he fled the kitchen.

With a huge grin on her face, Sofia watched her supervisor shoot down the hall. "Now, that was worth losing 250 dollars for."

"Yes, ma'am," Nick agreed, echoing her grin until he caught the thundercloud on Warrick's face. Nick dropped the grin and cleared his throat.

Sofia ambled out into the living room. He followed her gunslinger hips as she stopped by the table to pick up the box of chips and cards. Normally these were spoils of second place, but Grissom wasn't yet a member of the LVPD crime lab semi-regular poker game. And not likely to be if Sofia and Rick had anything to say about it.

Keeping his eyes on her hips until she disappeared out the door, Nick leaned into Warrick. "I . . . like . . . the . . . view," Nick said, pronouncing each word with exaggerated care.

"Yeah, man, but just look. Don't touch."

Nick gave a sloppy thumbs up.

A strong helping hand from Warrick steadied Nick down the stairs, as far as the outside door. Sofia was already setting the card and chip box inside the back of her Subaru Forester.

"Look," said Nick, turning on unsteady legs to face his best friend. "Look, he loves you, dawg. And you love him. He just don't know no better. Sleep on it. Okay?"

Nick reached out and slapped Warrick on the shoulder with honest, if drunken, enthusiasm, "Will you do that for me, Rick?"

"Okay, man."

"You promise?"

"Yeah. I promise." And at last breaking into an indulgent smile, Warrick hugged him. "Thanks, man."

"'Kay, pardner. Now, let go of me before Sofia gits any more bright ideas."

Warrick released Nick, glared out at Sofia, then headed back up the stairs. Dang, Nick wouldn't be in Grissom's boots tonight. Not for all the cattle in Texas.

Nick weaved out into the parking lot, out to the Subaru and Sofia. She met him half-way and guided him around to the passenger side. Before opening the door, she looked straight into his eyes, interrogator's game face locked on.

"How long have those two been together?"

"Uh, what?"

"Nick, even if I hadn't been sitting across a poker table from you for the last four hours, I'd still be able to read you easier than a large print Reader's Digest."

"Uh, well, uh, I--"

"Consider the evidence. In the master bath: two toothbrushes and two brands of toothpaste. Not to mention the bottle of African Pride Shampoo and Conditioner in the shower."

His jaw dropped. She'd turned left instead of right on purpose. "You looked in their shower?"

"I'm an investigator. It's what I do. And then there's Mr. Brown's pronounced displeasure at my flirting with his . . . . Just what is their relationship, anyway?"

Nick thought for a moment. "It's serious."

A slow smile."Well," she said at last, "I'm happy for them." She was absolutely sincere.

"Yeah. Me, too."

"So, was it sometime after Ecklie broke up Graveyard?"

Nick grinned, "Tell you what. I'll answer your question if you'll answer mine."

She looked him over, then nodded. "All right."

"Yeah. They got together a couple of weeks after Ecklie broke up the team."

She smiled. Kind of wistfully, truth be told. And then she said, "So, what's your question, pardner?"

"Well, if you were stranded on a desert island--"

"Nick," she warned.

He grinned, "C'mon, So-fee-ah, time to come clean. What male co-worker would you want to be stranded with? Now that you know Gris is already taken?"

Her blue eyes flashed for a moment but, lucky for Nick, they flashed with humor. She leaned down next to his ear. "Well, tell me, Nicky, is present company excepted?"

He was surprised, he was drunk, but he sure wasn't stupid. "Hell, no, I ain't excepted."

She pulled back, looked him over, licked her upper lip, then smiled like a shark, "Nick, have you ever ridden face-to-face on a motorcycle?"