Current mood:	apathetic
Current music:	Hall & Oates, "Rockin' Around the Xmas Tree"
Entry tags:	character:brass, fic:who do you like?, rating:pg-13

Bleh, Christmas: a CSI ficlet
Not being the type to enjoy Chrismasy pursuits, I've spent the morning listening to The Who and feeling un-Christmasy. And I put together this little number. It's more of a drabble than anything else, is unbetaed and probably sucks. :-)

Behind the cut...


Who Do You Like?
By Joanne Soper-Cook
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: None
Genre: crack!fic
Rating: Ummmmm, probably PG-13 for some bad words


"So." Catherine Willows caught up with Jim Brass at the top of the stairs. "This forgery case. Who do you like?"

Because Brass had just emerged from a sleepless and (even worse, to his mind) coffeeless afternoon, he didn't quite hear her. "Who do I like?"

"Yeah." Catherine fell into step beside him. "Who do you like?"

"Well...let me see..." Brass thought about it for a moment. "Grissom is definitely a possibility," he said. "Even with the beard, I could go for it. He's silent - probably too silent if you ask me - but there's an intensity there. Five'll get you ten he can suck a golfball through fifty feet of garden hose."

Catherine was dumbfounded, but said nothing. Far be it from her to interrupt something this interesting. "Go on."

"Yeah, the way I see it, you take Grissom out for a nice meal, maybe some retro-techno-jazz-fusion, throw in a couple bottles of Cabernet and he'll open up like an umbrella. Serious tongue action in the parking lot, lots of groping at red lights, then he'd take you back to his place and fuck you up against a wall. Yeah, I'd do Grissom in a heartbeat."

Catherine's eyebrows threatened to migrate into her hairline. "I see. Anyone else?"

"Greg Sanders." Brass ducked his head, afraid of being overheard. "Young Sanders? Ohhhhhhhh yeah. He gives off a strong hetero vibe, but with the right inducements? He'd be on his knees. Greg gives good lab, know what I mean? I bet he gives even better head. Yeah, he can take a DNA sample from me any time."

The a/c must be busted, Catherine thought; it was getting really hot in here.

"Nick Stokes," Brass continued. "Good ol' boy from the Lone Star State. What can I say? Cowboy, take me away. I think Nicky's into tongue baths...probably that flavoured massage oil, too. He likes his balls sucked. I'm betting he's got really great thighs. Something to do with riding horses."

"I don't know if Nick's ever been on a horse," Catherine said.

"He likes to ride, count on it," Brass chuckled. "And he likes to be ridden, too. With Nicky, turnabout is fair play."

Catherine unbuttoned the top of her blouse and fanned herself with the file folder she was holding. "Ridden," she said.

"But Nicky's a sensitive type, so he probably likes a little pillow talk. Damn, the boy's a beauty, though. I'd do him in a Jersey minute."

"Wait a second," Catherine interjected, "I thought it was a New York minute."

"Pffft!" Brass waved his hand. "That's what they want you to think."

"So who else do you like?" She held open the door of the break room and ushered him in.

"Warrick: definitely a good time. He'd make you come before you were even naked. Bobby in Ballistics? A momma's boy who likes to be punished. My advice is, bring a ball gag and some restraints."

Catherine coughed. "You have restraints?"

"Yeah." Brass poured them both a cup of coffee. "Lady Heather gave 'em to me."

"And have you, uh...have you ever um, used them? On anyone?"

Brass shook his head. "Not yet." He sat down at the table. "For my money, David's a good bet. Shy, a little naive. He'd need some careful coaxing, but once you make him come, he's anybody's bitch." He sighed. "So much choice."

"You know, as interesting as this conversation is..." Catherine smirked at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "I think I may have led you on."

Brass didn't even miss a beat. "You were asking me about the forgery case."

"Yes."

"The brother-in-law's my first choice."

"I see."

"But I wonder if Grissom's busy after work?"

The End.