Title: The Power of Suggestion
Author: shrift
E-mail: darth_shrift at yahoo.com
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gil/Greg
Summary: Psychics, senses, and sushi, oh my.
Notes: Beta by Nestra. Post-ep for 619 - "Spellbound".

"Speaking of suggestions," Greg said, closing the dead psychic's book with a snap, "wanna get some waffles?"

Grissom tilted his head. "Waffles?"

"It doesn't have to be waffles specifically," Greg said, smiling his best come-on-you-know-you-like me smile. He'd been smiling that smile at Grissom almost the whole case, and it was starting to make his face hurt. "But a meal of some kind, yeah."

Grissom just kept staring. The faint squint to his eyes made Greg feel like something smeared on a slide, and he wondered if Hodges felt that way all the time. It totally would explain the twitchiness. Well, some of it, anyway.

Greg told himself not to fidget. Coworkers ate meals together. It didn't have to mean anything, even if it was a coworker he had a giant dorky crush on. Sara and Nick had survived his giant dorky crush phase, and they still invited him when food was afoot.

"This is the part where you say something like 'I could eat', only not that, because that's what I would say. Possibly you would say something involving hunger and not minding company?"

"How do you feel about sushi?" Grissom asked instead.

"I feel good about it," Greg said. "Really, really good."

Grissom pushed away from his desk. "You use a lot of wasabi, don't you?"

"I like it hot," Greg declared, following Grissom out of his office. Grissom didn't laugh, but a little huff of air came out his nose, so Greg called it a victory. He'd almost gotten Grissom to inhale his Earl Grey last week at that forensic entomology workshop he'd begged to attend. All it took was due diligence and a complete lack of shame.

"So where are we going?" Greg asked as he climbed into the passenger seat of Grissom's Tahoe.

"You'll see," Grissom said.

"I like surprises, too," Greg said.

Grissom kept watching the road like a good driver, but he seemed amused. "Are they really surprises for a person with a sixth sense?"

"Hard to tell," Greg said, idly paying attention to the scenery passing by his window. "I always found my surprises before my family could wrap them."

"A natural investigator," Grissom said leadingly.

Greg thought a natural investigator probably would've been able to figure out where they were going by now, although in his defense, when Greg got off shift he usually went with beer and nachos rather than food requiring hand-eye coordination.

"Maybe. Lots of kids are nosy, though. Do you really think finding my dad's stash of Playboys led me to where I am today?"

Grissom parked the SUV and turned to say very seriously, "I hope not."

They sat down, got their water. Stared at menus for a while. After they ordered, Greg felt the awkward silence descend. He'd talked about the case enough with Grissom already, and he got the feeling nobody really cared about his experience with the occult. Nobody seemed to care about his adventures with liquid latex, either. It was possible that his coworkers were a little too jaded.

"So, where's Catherine going on vacation?" he asked. Hey, at least it wasn't the weather.

"Disneyland," Grissom said.

"Oh," Greg said. That sounded like it could be fun.

"With her parents. They're driving."

"Oh." Greg couldn't imagine taking a road trip with his parents as an adult. Not even his iPod and a Valium prescription could save the car from eventually becoming a crime scene. "She's probably gonna need a vacation from her vacation when she gets back."

Grissom agreed, and then their food arrived. Greg put a large blob of wasabi in his soy sauce and swirled around some pickled ginger. Grissom ate neatly; Greg's side of the table was littered with soy sauce, rice, and a smear of roe. It probably was symbolic of something, but Greg didn't care.

"You're never gonna tell me about that psychic you visited, are you?" Greg asked.

Grissom gave him a sly look over his glasses, and it made Greg want to blurt something stupid like 'take me now or I'll steal all the entomology texts from your office.'

After all, Grissom had a lot of entomology texts. He'd need a hand cart and a good alibi.

"Never say never, Greg," Grissom said.

"Just so you know," Greg said, "I'm taking that as encouragement."

Grissom's smile was tiny and unexpected. "Is that why you ordered the sake?"

Greg nearly choked on the beverage in question. "What?"

"You ordered the sake so you'd need a ride home."

In for a penny, Greg thought, and asked, "Will I get one?"

"From me?" Grissom asked.

"That was the plan," Greg admitted. It was possible the sake had more of a kick than he'd remembered.

Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes."

"Will I get more than that?" Greg asked, and immediately wanted to smack his own head and say 'stupid, stupid!' Because that was pushing it a little more than he probably should, even for a guy whose default mode was set to 'flirt'. But he'd been pushing it a lot lately on the job, and maybe he was developing a bad habit, but still. Propositioning the boss! Danger!

"Not tonight," Grissom said.

Greg wondered why nobody ever paged him when it could save his dignity and possibly his life, but mustered enough courage to ask, "But never say never?"

"You said it first, Greg," Grissom said. "The power of suggestion."

Greg choked on his tuna nigiri. "So I should keep suggesting things?"

"If you like," Grissom said. He looked uncertain for a split second, and Greg felt relief like that first blast of air conditioning after being stuck at a scene in the desert all day.

"Because I have a list," Greg said. "It's a very long list. Very thorough."

"Work your way through it," Grissom said, and the look in his eyes was doing more for Greg right then than Tammy the stripper could do for him all night. "I'll let you know if you miss anything."


the end