Title: Win-Win Situation
Author: amazonqueenkate
Claim: Jacqui Franco
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Theme: (Set 2; #49, writer's choice: competition)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: This time, winner takes all.
Author's Notes: Vague and rather unimportant spoilers for "A Night At The Movies". A bit of a wonky pairing. Posted tonight for [info]jaygoose, who seemed a little shocked at the pairing.

When Jacqui was growing up and used to compete with her sisters in silly, made-up games, the challenge inevitably ended with one of them declaring, “Next time, winner takes all.” Whoever won – though it was usually Jacqui herself – ended up with a week’s worth of booty: doll clothes, favorite marbles, a handful of change, and even, in one memorable instance, her older sister’s first vibrator. (She hadn’t known what it was, and it’d gotten confiscated by her mother almost immediately.)

And in a strange way, Greg Sanders… Well, he was a little like her sisters, only minus the breasts and the trademark Franco curls. Greg bounced around on the balls of his feet and constantly insisted in that stubborn tone of his that was the best. It didn’t even really matter what topic they were discussing or what they were working on; by his own standard, he was the best at just about everything. And even if he reminded her of a puppy – one that was eager to please and not-quite-house-trained – his superiority annoyed Jacqui, and irritation runs deep.

Which, really, was why they started racing in the first place, print results versus DNA profiling: because Jacqui rather liked putting challenging brats (like her sisters) in their place. By that logic, then, she should have won easily.

Instead, she spent a shift wearing Greg’s stupid swami hat.

That one, harmless incident quickly escalated into a full-out war, and for the next two weeks, Grissom sent them both dirty looks as the swami hat was swapped back and forth or, worse, was replaced with Mickey-Mouse ears. When Greg managed topped her all-time shift record of thirty-seven prints with his forty-two blood samples, though, Jacqui’d finally had enough. She stomped into the DNA lab and declared, with God and most of the night shift as her witness, “Next time? Winner takes all.”

Greg set the terms – who could get a hit for their latest case first? – and Jacqui cracked her knuckles before running a print brush over the evidence. She would not – could not – lose, not this time. Not after declaring the contest to be a winner-take-all final duel to the proverbial death. And most certainly not against Greg Sanders.

Which was probably why she ended up mostly-naked and here – on Greg’s big bed with the Superman sheets, gasping for breath and brushing the tail of the swami hat off her arm as Greg’s lips traveled down her neck and onto her shoulder: because she’d lost. By that logic, though, she should have been irritated, perhaps even angry.

Instead, she really wished that she could lose these competitions more often.