Hands Off

Humor Rating PG13

Pairings...hmm...maybe later wink

Disclaimer: No one is mine. I just like to make them laugh. Or to laugh with them. Okay, yes, and at them.

A/N Honestly, I can't even begin to tell you what inspired me to do this. I love CSI and the entire cast of characters (though Warrick is free to come on over at any time, day or night [hint hint]). I think I end up writing humor because the show is so serious and as we all know, life ain't all drama. I feel compelled to show the gang in lighter moments. Hope you enjoy! Oh yeah, this idea is blatantly stolen...um, borrowed...from Seinfeld.

"Well, that was certainly an -"Catherine Willows paused, trying to find just the right word "-enlightening case."

Attractive and brawny Nick Stokes chuckled, as he followed Catherine into the break room. "I can only agree. Just when I thought I'd seen it all."

Sara Sidle and Warrick Brown were sitting across from each other at the breakroom table which was littered with forms and file folders. The pair was trying to make some dent in their ever increasing paperwork.

"What's that, Nick?" Sara asked, barely looking up from her pile of paper.

Nick shot Catherine an amused look. They had just returned from a visit to Doc Robbins in the morgue, who had finished the autopsy of their latest case.

"Um, nothing, Sara, just our last case. We thought it might have been a homicide but turns out, an accidental suicide, of sorts." Nick managed a straight face - barely. Catherine snickered, pouring coffees for herself and Nick.

Intrigued, Sara laid down her pen and looked up. "Well, this must have been good. C'mon, share."

Nick took the cup Catherine offered and raised his eyebrows at the redhead. Once again, the senior CSI laughed.

"Okay," she laughed. "This is one for the record books." She paused to collect her thoughts, unconsciously increasing the drama. Even the studious Warrick turned half an eye toward her, patiently waiting for the tale.

"We get to the house and our vic's in the bathroom. There's blood everywhere-"

"And we mean everywhere," Nick added.

Catherine continued. "And the guy's slumped into the tub. So, David is already there and he's pronounced the guy but he's acting all freaked out and as we pass him, he bolts from the room telling us, yeah, the guy's deceased and time of death about two hours prior." Catherine paused for a sip of coffee.

Nick couldn't stand the wait and continued for her. "But David just says, 'Man, this one is all yours,' and he takes off. We go in, I start the photos and Cath looks into the tub and screams."

"I did not! I merely expressed extreme surprise."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, so she screams, 'Oh my God' and I take a look. Damn if the guy's -"Nick looked suddenly at Sara, before deciding she could take the shock "stuff is there in the tub."

Sara and Warrick shared a confused glance. "Stuff?" Warrick asked.

Nick grinned. "Yeah, man, his...you know....stuff..."

Catherine shook her head. "Leave the stories to the grown-ups, Nick. His manhood. Or manhoods, I should say."

Sara's eyes flew open wide. Warrick's look was far more horrified. "No!" he breathed in disbelief.

Nick was laughing. "Oh, yes! The complete set, meat and potatoes, there in the tub. Cause of death, bled out. Self-castration."

Warrick had yet to regain his composure, involuntarily shuddering. Sara was just plain amazed. "He cut off his own....er....thing?"

Catherine and Nick nodded in unison.

"Why?" Warrick gasped at the same time Sara asked, "How?"

Greg Sanders, the graveyard labrat bounced into the breakroom. "How? Plain old steak knife. Why?" The lanky DNA technician pushed Nick out of the way and helped himself to a soda from the small refrigerator. "Solid steel cock ring."

Warrick's handsome face remained cast in a most horrified mask. "What?" His voice rose an octave from its usual deep tenor.

"Seems the guy had on a ....er...cock ring? Ya know, steel ring through which a guy pulls his..."

"Meat and potatoes?" Sara tried unsuccessfully not to laugh.

Greg nodded. "Through the ring and then when he gets excited he can maintain it for hours."

Warrick threw a stapler at Greg. "I know what it is, Sanders, I meant what does it have to do with why the guy..."– he struggled for words – "emasculated himself."

Catherine looked rather smug. "Apparently, after donning said ring, and getting excited, he stayed that way for hours and hours and hours then suffered a severe bout of shyness. Rather than go to the emergency room for help, he tried to get the thing off himself."

"Ugh!" Warrick shook visibly. Nick, having had a couple of hours to acquaint himself with the case, had become immune to the cringe-causing details, merely laughed at his friend's discomfort.

Sara shook her head, unable to comprehend someone getting into such dire straights. "You guys shouldn't be allowed to have those things," she muttered

Greg looked surprised. "Hey, it's not like we haven't had some weird women- type cases in here. What about that gal from Boise last year, over at the Mustang Lounge who OD'd and when Doc did the autopsy he found three billiard balls where they didn't belong?"

Warrick, Nick and Greg all cast challenging eyes at Sara.

The pretty brunette shrugged and admitted, "Okay, well, yeah, but you have to admit, guys have a much higher incidence of .... perversion."

The three men in the room cried foul at that. "And your scientific proof of this?" Warrick queried.

Sara threw her hands up, getting to the heart of the argument now. She had been on the debate team in high school all four years - now she had a chance to put it to good use. "Like, just check out any survey. I mean, come on, even the most basic masturbation statistics show 99% of all men jerk off and the other 1% are lying."

Greg spewed soda out his nose, much to Nick's disgust. Catherine giggled.

Warrick, unable to resist taunting Sara jumped to his sex's defense. "And what about women? It's not a male-only past-time, Sidle."

Catherine, Greg and Nick looked toward Sara, waiting for her trademark acidic reply.

She grinned cheekily. "Oh yeah? Find me a study that indicates female masturbation is as wide spread as male."

Catherine, Greg and Nick turned back to Warrick, intent on what he'd volley.

Warrick scowled through his grin. "Haven't you ever done it?" he challenged.

Catherine's, Greg's and Nick's eyebrows shot heavenward as they turned back to Sara.

The young woman smiled, picking up the proverbial gauntlet. "I have," she said boldly, her brown eyes never leaving Warrick's green ones. "But I'll bet not to the extent that you have."

Catherine, Greg and Nick all took a step backward. "Oh, ow," Greg muttered.

"You assume all men have no self-control? Or just me?" Warrick asked, his voice tinged with equal parts amusement and annoyance.

Sara leered. "All men. It's a known fact," she emphasized.

"Hey, hey!" Nick burst out. "So you think women have more self-control than men when it comes to...to.."

"You can say it, Nicky - mas-tur-ba-tion," Catherine said slowly, falling into a chuckle.

Nick shook his head. "Fine, masturbation. Are you happy now?" The dark- haired Texan pointed to the women. "You two are so sexist."

"What?" Sara turned her onslaught to Nick. "How is this sexist?"

"You're assuming men have no self-control – that you women are superior to us in this respect. That is sexism, however you dress it up." Warrick chimed in. Clearly, the battle lines had been drawn.

Sara leaned back in her chair, contemplating her coworkers. "Okay, fine. Why don't we put it to a little test."

The other CSIs looked both skeptical and intrigued. "What do you mean?" Warrick asked warily.

"Taken right from a classic Seinfeld episode. Let's make a bet," she boldly proposed.

Greg hooted with excitement. "Oh yeah! The episode where they all lay down something like $100 and whoever can refrain from 'self-love' the longest gets the pot!"

Sara, looking Warrick straight in the eye, jerked her head. "That's the one. So, what do you boys say? Shall we make a little wager?"

"What's this about a wager?" Gil Grissom, senior CSI and supervisor choose that inopportune moment to enter the breakroom. The occupants suddenly looked uncomfortable – all except Catherine.

"Your junior colleagues here are setting up a challenge, Gil." She threw the older man a saccharine smile.

Grissom paused, casefile folders clutched in his right hand and eyed the collected investigators. "Oh yeah? What kind of challenge?"

Warrick shrugged. "A friendly wager. Sara's idea," he added for spite.

"Oh?" Grissom turned a ridiculously innocent face toward Sara.

"Yeah," she began hesitantly, a blush already rising in her cheeks. "Um, like on Seinfeld. We all agree to refrain from masturbating, and whomever falls off the wagon, so to speak, has to put say – $20 into the pot? Last one left wins all the money."

It wasn't often anyone could render Gil Grissom speechless, but Sara had just done a pretty good job.

"And just how are you going to manage this?" he asked, his voice still stunned.

"Well, cold showers work - or trying to imagine your grandmother or–"

"Greg!" Grissom yelled, "I meant, how are you going to police this bet? You'll have to trust everyone to be honest."

Greg, Nick, Warrick, Catherine and Sara looked at each other, silently offering their honesty.

"I think we can trust one another," Nick finally said. "I'm willing to go for it."

The others nodded but Grissom looked unconvinced. "Is it just going to include self-stimulation or any kind of sex?"

Sara glanced at her coworkers. "It'd have to be all sex, otherwise, what would be the point?"

Catherine and Warrick looked suddenly dubious, both suspecting Sara had guessed their trump card. Catherine had been dating suave Chris Bezich for nearly six months and Warrick had just revived a hot-and-heavy romance with an ex-girlfriend.

Nick, who had been leaning against the counter, stood straight up. "I'm in," he announced, grinning broadly.

"Me, too," Sara grinned, laughing with arrogance. "This is going to be so easy."

Greg puffed his chest. "You all have no idea how perfectly suited this bet is for my personal place in life right now. Count me in."

Sara, Greg and Nick stared at Catherine and Warrick expectantly. Warrick finally heaved a great sigh. "Fine, I'm in," he muttered. His competitive nature was unwilling to refuse such a stake, especially against Sara.

Catherine relented. "This is so childish," she said, her voice filled with mock indignation. "But count me in if only to show you how silly this is."

"What the heck? I'll do it." All eyes turned to Grissom in horrified shock. He simply shrugged. "Hey, why not? Just a friendly bet, right?" he grinned.

After a beat, Sara asked, "Who's going to hold then money?"

Grissom thought for a brief moment. "Hang on," he said, already out the breakroom door. The others were speechless. Before any of them could form a coherent thought, he returned, his favorite tarantula's cage in his hand. "When one of you falls off the wagon, put your twenty in here with Betsy. It'll be safe enough."

This proved acceptable to the others. "May the best CSI win!" Grissom beamed.

TBC