I will write for any fandom that I have listed in my bio. Most of these will be character x reader. Aside from fictional characters, there will be some Parent!Character(s) x Readers as well. Some won't be x Readers at all, but ships that the read...
(A/N: Okay, so, there's this video on Tumblr where someone rolls a bowling ball over a series of rubber chickens to make a rickroll. Here's what they look like -
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So because CSI has ruined me, I immediately thought of the rubber chicken episode, and then someone reminded me of the bowling episode. So I thought, "Why not combine these two to do exactly what the person did, and have the CSIs use rubber chickens and a bowling ball to play a stupid, funny song?" And I did. I picked out the most suitable song I knew, which is the one above, The Show Must Be Go by Kevin MacLeod. Weeeeeee are just going to ignore timings and pretend that this song existed in 2008. This is a really short crack fic just for good feels.)
Grissom knew that his boys tended to play and fool around during slow nights, but he had never fathomed that their goofing around could take on this level of insanity.
He was walking along the hallway, flipping through the case folder of the Anabelle Fundt case, or the rubber chicken case as David had so aptly named it, when he heard the squawking of rubber chickens coming from the break room. His head jerked up. For one thing, they had just solved the case, and for another, the squawking came from multiple chickens, whilst they had only found one throughout the duration of the case.
He snapped the folder shut and quickened his pace, making a beeline for the break room. He slid his heels to a stop and put his hand on the doorframe when he reached his destination. The most conspicuous eye-catcher was the PVC pipe ramp fit for the bowling ball on the floor. Nick had a hand on that ball, and was kneeling on the floor along Warrick and Greg. To top it all off, there was a row of rubber chickens in between them. On the table, there was an opened laptop which was facing the three boys. Catherine and Sara were sitting on the couch, watching them over the rims of their coffee mugs.
Grissom slowly took off his glasses. "What the fuck...?" He stared in bewilderment and disbelief, his eyebrows frowned and his mouth gaping.
"Hey Gil!" Sara greeted perkily, raising her mug in his direction; she responded first because she was the most perceptive to his voice. Catherine gave him a lazy wave. The three on the floor gave him variations of a distracted 'hey Grissom'. Sara could see how distressed her husband was and waved him over.
He gladly strode over to her. "What the hell are you doing? And where'd you even get those things from???" he asked as he walked. He sat down in between the two ladies, snuggling right up to Sara, who put her arm around his neck and bent it up so that she could play with his hair. From Grissom's new vantage point, he could see that the laptop's screen was showing a YouTube video that had been paused.
The rest of them left Sara to explain the situation to Gil. "They went out and bought all this. They did clock out first. They're arranging the chickens so that when the ball is rolled over them, they'll imitate a part of that song." At the last part, Sara pointed to the laptop. In the meantime, Greg, Nick and Warrick went on arranging the chickens.
Gil raised an eyebrow. "And what song would that be?"
Nick, who was the closest to the computer, replied, "The Show Must Be Go by Kevin MacLeod." He scrolled to the start of the video and pressed the space bar to allow Grissom to sample the song.
Gil's eyebrow fell, then both his eyebrows flinched upwards just a little bit, and that was immediately followed by his head cocking to the right slightly and twitching. "I admire your dedication to this stupidity," he said genuinely, leaning back into Sara fully and relaxing.
Sara and Catherine laughed. As for the boys, they were grinning brightly. "Thank you," was the general response from the three of them.
"So, we're just doing the sounds for the trumpet at this part, up until the point before it starts to die down, since that links to when the music picks up," Nick explained, scrolling to when the trumpet first joined in and pressing 'play'.
"We've already got the first half, so we just need to repeat that," Warrick added. Gil nodded in acknowledgment.
So the three of them laid out another set of rubber chickens in the exact same arrangement as the first set. "Alright! I think we're ready!" Greg declared, standing up.
"Yeah?" Nick smiled, standing up as well and putting the ball at the top of the ramp.
"Yeah. Let it go, dude," Warrick said with a slight laugh, waving his hand down the path the ball would roll.
"Okay," Nick grinned. He removed his hands from the bowling ball.
It rolled down the make-shift ramp, and over the rubber chickens. As had been hoped for, the imitation of the sounds of the hopeless trumpet sounded. All six people burst out in laughter, each one letting it through in different ways. Warrick fell back a little and needed to put his hands behind himself to prevent himself from falling. Nick and Greg let out whooping laughs of celebration and heartily hi-fived each other, their hands high in the air and sounding a loud slap. Catherine laughed and choked on her drink the way she had when Gil told her he had missed her tush. Sara was looking at Gil, seeking the reaction of the one she loved the most. The said lover had buried his face in her shoulder to hide his laughter, but she could feel his stupid smile. She used her arm around his shoulders to pull him closer, leant her head down and smooched the top of his head. She felt his smile drop, his body stiffen and his face heat up; he still got flustered when she gave him unexpected kisses. It made her chuckle.
"You know..." Nick mused, "we still have more chickens. We can make this pattern at least twice more."
"Oh. No," Catherine snickered.
"I say let's do it!" Warrick chimed in, standing up so that he could stretch before another session of kneeling and stooping.
"Yeah, why not?" Greg said cheerily. He and Nick took Warrick's place on the floor.
Grissom and Sara looked at each other, fondly annoyed smiles on their faces. Their children were idiots, and they loved them very much.
