DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I promise I'm only borrowing them and will return them to their rightful owners whenever they ask for them back. My imagination took a flight of fancy.....my bank account stayed empty. (Seriously, the cast of CSI belong to Jerry Bruckenheimer & CBS, and I'm only borrowing them for some free daydreaming that I wrote down.).
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is fluff I repeat, FLUFF! Anyone expecting serious fic should wander off to something else.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To ncruuk[at]gmail.com
For the love of Zucchini, the Chicken was lost
"That looks good," commented Greg, strolling into the break room a little after 2am.
"Mmmm." Catherine's reply was non-committal, her mouth too full of food, for 2am on the graveyard shift meant 'lunch'.
"Tastes good too, by the sounds of it," continued Greg, reaching into the fridge to grab his own lunch, and also the box with Sara's lunch in it.
"It is," agreed Catherine, finally finished chewing her mouthful.
"You finished at scene?"
"Yeah, just got back. Sara and I decided to call it lunchtime before starting the processing."
"Much to do?" asked Catherine conversationally as she speared another forkful.
"Enough. Is that zucchini?"
"Yes, with penne pasta, tomato, black olive and..."
"Parmesan" offered a new voice.
"Thanks, penne pasta with tomato, black olive, zucchini, Parmesan and herbs," recited Catherine, before attacking another mouthful of her dinner.
"And Chicken breast," offered the same new voice from over by the coffee pot.
"And Chicken breast," agreed Catherine happily, diving back into her box to find...no chicken breast.
"Umm, Catherine, there's no chicken in that box," offered Greg helpfully, earning him a death glare from Catherine.
"Honey?" Catherine turned to Sara, trying to flirt her way out of trouble.
"Why is there a chicken breast in my lunch?" asked Sara, having been ignoring the conversation whilst she fixed her coffee.
"You ate her lunch?" asked Greg, suddenly catching up, earning a slap round the head from Catherine.
"Cat?" Sara tried again.
"Did you eat my lunch again?"
"Maybe..." tried Catherine, dolefully forking through the remains of her lunch, trying to find some chicken.
"Ah? That's it? You're not mad?"
"No, not mad."
"But your lunch..."
"Is in your stomach, yes."
"And you're not mad?" Greg now joined in the conversation again, not understanding why Sara was being so calm about the fact that Catherine has just eaten her lunch.
"No Greg, I'm not mad."
"Catherine knows why, don't you sweetie?" asked Sara, sending a pointed smirk at her lover as she waited for the proverbial penny to drop...
"Exactly" agreed Sara smugly, watching as Catherine dropped her fork and theatrically put her head in her hands, before enlightening Greg as she headed to go and order some take out.
"She's cut off for a week now!"
You could almost hear the audible thud of Greg's dropping jaw as he formed a conclusion about what Sara meant... only to be smacked around the head once more by Catherine.
"Not Sex Greg, leftovers, for lunch leftovers... Sara's making me cook for the week!"
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