Title: What'd You Get?
By: Joanne Soper-Cook
Fandom: CSI: Vegas
Pairing: None; implied Jim/Gil
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None

"So." Warrick Brown stirred his coffee with a practised hand and gazed at the other occupants of the table. "What'd you all get for Xmas?"

"Don't even get me started," Catherine said. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a chain-mail bikini.

"Whoa." Warrick's mouth dropped open. "Who laid that one on you?"

"That's just the thing," she said. "I don't know. There was no tag, no card. It was in my mailbox. And that's not all." Her head disappeared under the edge of the table for several long moments, accompanied by some muffled curses and heavy breathing. When she resurfaced, she held a Highland broadsword in her hands, which she dropped onto the table with a loud clang. "It came with this."

Warrick reached for it, but Catherine slapped his hand away. "Hey! I might want to play with it myself, first." She jerked her chin at him. "What'd you get?"

"I guess Secret Santa has been busy," Warrick replied. "Because I got this." He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a shiny, cylindrical object.

"Hey, hold up." Nick Stokes leaned closer. "Is that a--"

"Cock ring?" Greg asked.

"Yeah." Warrick tossed it next to Catherine's bikini. "Same deal, man. No card, no tag. Came in a pretty box, though."

Greg picked it up, hefted it in his hand. "It's very large," he said. "You should be flattered."

Warrick glared at him. "Yeah, I got your flattery right here."

Nick hastened to dissipate the incipient tension in the room. "So what did you get, Greg?"

Greg's mouth opened on nothing.

"Aw, come on, man. It can't be that bad," Nick said.

"Yes, it can, and it is that bad." Greg reached under the table and brought a large cardboard box into view.

"What the hell is that?" Sara leaned over for a closer look. She stared as Greg brought it out and laid it on the table, then she dissolved into helpless laughter.

"Hey!" Greg scraped it protectively towards him. "It's not funny, okay?"

"What the hell is that thing?" Nick reached out for it and held it up. It consisted of two slender silver chains attached to a cup. It reminded him of nothing so much as a very fancy athletic protector.

"It's a codpiece," Greg blurted. His face had turned bright red. Even his ears were red. "I looked it up. People - men - used to wear them in the Middle Ages." He suddenly became very interested in his fingernails.

"Middle Ages, huh?" Warrick looked at the others. "So who's the medieval buff around here?"

Sara shrugged. "Could be Hodges," she said. "He strikes me as the Dungeons and Dragons type. You know, swords and sorcery and...metal bikinis." She darted an apologetic look at Catherine.

"It's not Hodges," Nick said. "I got something, too, and believe me, this is so far out of Hodges' purview, it's in another zip code."

"Come on, Nicky, show and tell." Sara folded her hands on the table in front of her. With luck, they wouldn't get around to her until lunch was over, in which case it would be too late.

Nick unrolled a dark, leathery bundle: a mask, with a zipper across the mouth.

"Somebody thinks you talk too much," Warrick smirked. "You gonna try it on, give us all a show?"

"I dunno who'd give me something like this, man." Nick was flustered; he kept unrolling the mask and re-rolling it. "Bondage? That's not my gig. And I got..." He glanced around furtively. "Spurs."

"Spurs?" Sara started up like she'd been shot. "As in, yippee-ki-yay, Cowboy?"

He laid them on the table, along with a small bottle. "Yeah. Spurs. And chocolate body paint."

"Ah..." Catherine turned the bottle in her fingers. "Oh, Nicky, this stuff is such fun. Eddie and I used to---" Suddenly conscious of the strange looks she was getting from the others, she fell silent.

"Somebody thinks you like to be licked," Greg put in.

"Hey, watch it, Codpiece Boy." Nick rolled the bottle towards him. "You want it? It's yours."

"I don't get it," Sara said. "Who's the Secret Santa? I mean, did we all get presents?"

"Yeah, Sara." Nick smiled at her. "What did you get?"

"Uh." She blushed. "Santa must have forgotten about me."

But Nick was undeterred. "Come on. What'd you get?"

"I'd rather not say."

The other occupants of the table had had enough. "SARA!"

"Alright, alright." She fumbled with her shoulder bag for a minute and laid a small velvet bag on the table in front of them. It was tied with a golden cord; she tugged at the knot and two small gold circles fell out.

"Oh my God," Catherine said. "Oh my God, Sara."

"What are those?" Greg picked one up. "Hubcaps for your Barbie car?"

Catherine giggled. "They're pasties, Greg. They go over your nipples? Show girls use them." She smiled. "Oh, Sara, I'm jealous. Someone thinks you're sexy. My bet is, whoever sent these wants you to wear them."

Sara's face was a study in anger. "If I ever find out who sent these, he's dead. If it's that damn Hodges---"

"What about that damn Hodges?" The man in question had suddenly appeared at the coffee maker. "What's this, show and tell?"

"Hodges, can we get you something?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah, actually Brown, you can." Hodges reached into his back pocket and pulled out a dildo. But this was not just any dildo: it was long and pink and very, very thick, and sported an astonishing array of knobs and ticklers and places where things could be attached. "You can tell me who the hell sent me this for Xmas."

"We don't know, man." Warrick shrugged. "We all got sex toys. Even Greggo here got a codpiece. He thought it was from you."

"He got a what?" Hodges bent over to look at it. "Let me see that."

"Hands off!" Greg slapped at him. "It's mine."

"We got a Secret Santa on our hands, yo." Warrick took a deep breath. "And it's somebody on the inside, bet on it."

"Yeah, but who would send us things like this?" Sara asked. "I mean, Catherine got a bikini, I got pasties, you got...uh...well, we know what everybody got."

"Maybe it's Grissom," Greg said.

"Maybe what's Grissom?"

They turned as one body; Nick flushed a deep red while Greg seemed to be on the verge of choking. "Griss, you gotta do something," Nick said. "Man, we all got these twisted gifts."

"I didn't send them." The entomologist shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Why would I do that?"

Sara and Catherine exchanged glances. "We thought it might be a little joke," Catherine said.

"I don't have time for jokes," Grissom replied. "I've got work to do. And by the way, lunch is over."

"Did you get a gift from Secret Santa?" Catherine asked. But Grissom merely smiled his sphinx-like smile and left.

"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch," Warrick muttered. "So if Grissom didn't send these--"

"He didn't deny sending them," Sara interjected. "Follow the evidence. The evidence never lies."

"If Grissom didn't send these," Warrick continued, "Who did?"

Catherine raised her shoulders and dropped them. "No idea." She stuffed the bikini back into her bag and stood up, slinging the broadsword over her shoulder. "Well, I've got work to do."

Grissom slipped into his office and closed the door. He sat down at his desk, smiling a secret smile, and punched in the number for an internal call. "You're an evil, evil man, Jim."

"You dared me." The detective laughed gently. "Did they like their gifts?"

"How the hell did you know what to get them? Never mind. I don't want to know." Grissom cradled the receiver in both hands. "Can I come up there and sit on Santa's lap?"

"Yeah," Jim said, "Come and sit on Santa's lap. We'll talk about the first thing that pops up."

The End. :-)