A/N: Just a little oneshot I was playing around with for a bit. I thought it was very Greg. Read and review? Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of the characters.

Rock Around The Clock

Marilyn Manson in the morning, The Pretenders in the afternoon, Frank Sinatra in the evening, and The Bee Gees after dusk. For Greg Sanders, music time was all the time. He never got tired of belting out the classics or rocking out to an earsplitting guitar riff. It was just part of who he was. Sure he would still have the crazy t-shirts, witty sense of humor, and cool persona if you took away his deafening life-line, but he wouldn't be the same Greg he had been.

For everyone in the lab, it was normal to see him humming along with the radio on the way to a crime scene or singing along to a song that was stuck in his head while he looked over case photos in the layout room.

He could expected to be anywhere, on any case, at anytime, listening to music… Well, almost.

Sara Sidle certainly didn't expect to see him rocking out to his iPod in the locker room at 3:30 in the morning. To her, the 'must kill early' girl, 3:30 in the morning was forbidden for anything but work or sleep. Music was not one of those things.

Leaning against the lockers on the opposite side of the room from which Greg was, she watched silently as he tossed his head back and forth, extracting his scuffed brown leather blazer from his locker.

If she listened close enough, Sara could hear him faintly singing the lyrics under his breath. His voice jagged, rough; no doubt from the non-stop civilian calming earlier on from their triple homicide at The Sands.

She noticed his every movement. When he had the jacket snugly around his shoulders, his hands didn't move to the zipper, leaving it open. A tiny hole was visible in his jeans, just above the pocket. He probably knew about it already, but thought it gave them 'character' or something. The bottoms were frayed slightly, a result from his walking on them no matter how many times one of his co-workers told him to get them hemmed or buy shorter leg lines. He never listened.

She noticed when he pulled his tan fedora out of his locker, slipping it smoothly of his mound of wavy brown hair. His iPod was removed from his hand so it could rest in the front pocket of his jeans, the cord being pulled tight from the distance it had to reach up to the ear buds.

What Sara didn't notice, however, was him glancing over his shoulder to throw her a breath-taking smile.

"Hey Sara," He called, causing her to jerk her head up.

"Greg- hi." She choked out, bring her eyes up to meet his. She waited until he removed one of his ear buds to ask "What's up?"

Chuckling, he ignored her question and asked "Like what you see?"

She blushed slightly, realizing that he had probably noticed her watching his put his iPod into his pocket, her eyes dangerously low on his body.

She gulped.

Smirking, Greg let the question drop, resting the tiny speaker on his shoulder. Instead of insisting that she answer him, he said "So what takes you to the locker room this lovely morning?"

Remembering the reason she was here, she replied "You, actually."

"Oh?" His tone was purposely nonchalant.

"Well, not you, really-" He frowned at her words. "Your music."

Crinkling his nose, Greg replied "My music?"

Sara nodded.

"It was loud and distracting."

"But I had my headphones in!" Greg protested, refusing to believe that his music was the reason Sara was standing in front of him right now.

"The volume is blasting and I was only right down the hall. As I said before, distracting." She grinned smugly.

"The Presets are not distracting! They're addicting!"

"The who?"

Knowing she wouldn't understand him even if he explained, Greg said "Never mind."

There was silence for a moment, the only sound being the techno-rock beat pulsating through Greg's headphones.

"Play, this has got to stop." Sara exclaimed, glaring at Greg. "Turn down the music. Turn it off. Just… do something! It's-" She stopped to glance at her watch "3:45 in the bloody morning and you're blaring music around the lab! I need to work! I need quiet! I need sleep!"

Greg just stared at her, trying to hide a smile.

"Why are you listening to music this late-" She stopped herself. "-early, anyway?"

Shrugging, Greg said smoothly, "You know me, Sara, I like to rock around the clock."

With that, he smiled at her and headed towards the door. As he passed her, he leaned down and kissed her cheek quickly before continuing on.

Turning around, Sara noticed he was gone. She stared after the ghost of him for a moment before muttering under her breath: "Annoying little lover boy."