Title: Red
Author: Nicci
Pairing: pre-slash Grissom/Warrick
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Thamiris 48 Hour Color Challenge on LJ
Summary: Grissom and Warrick in the Lab. Based on 1st season, when Grissom was minus the beard and moustache.


"Hell no!"

"Come on. What's a little blood," Grissom said. He turned, smiling at Warrick, the golf club hung off his hand. He'd just smashed a head he'd spent hours molding into shape, and filled it with blood. It splattered over the white walls in the lab. Now he can determine the flow and trails of trickling blood, compare the results to the latest crime scene.

"What are you? A vampire?" Warrick reared back.

"Have to test out my theories."

"Griss, you are a theory."

Gil cajoled Warrick into the chair, helped him remove his jacket.

"I knew I should've kept walking when I saw your face."


"You had this look, goofy and scary."

"Goofy! I doubt anyone would describe me that way," Gil said, bursting out laughing.

"Well man. If the shoe fits, feel free to wear it."



"You should be kind to the person with the needle in their hand." Gil waved it in Warrick's face and stuck out his tongue. Then he pushed the needle into his arm. Warrick flinched. "Hold still."


"Never figured you as a big baby."

"Remind me, never be around when you're in this bloodhound mood."

"Bloodhound." Gil said, confused.

"Yeah, I heard about Holly Gibbs. How you suckered her into giving blood."

"Hey, what can I say? It's a prerequisite for all new hires. My victims don't always lie down and give it up easy."

Gil grabbed cotton balls and drenched them with alcohol. He removed the tourniquet from Warrick's arm, slowly wiped away little beads of blood popping through Warrick's skin. He picked up another cotton ball and pressed it down on the arm. Told Warrick to stick his finger there and don't move as he pulled off the plastic gloves. He stripped the adhesive from the bandage, applied it, wrapped his fingers around the underside of Warrick's arm, and rubbed with both thumbs, smoothed the bandage into place like he was soothing a disturbed lover.

His head bent in concentration, the covered chest, rising and falling caught his attention. He heard the intake of breath by Warrick. Half afraid of doing so and yet he couldn't resist, Gil raised his eyes and met green ones staring at him, ablaze with emotions he denied himself, refused to act on them.

"Done," Gil said, pulling back.

"You think so. We haven't even started yet."

The End