This is for the geekfiction Trick or Treat challenge. Uber late, but uni has been spanking me. It was done a week ago, I just didn't know it. Challenge: Someone pulling an elaborate prank as well as the quote "I've seen the People's Court. I'm entitled to one phone call and a strip search." From Elvira.
Thanks to Mel for the initial beta and kicking my ass to finish it. Because she rawks. And of course, to Lauren for the final beta and the help with the title. Both are awesome as shit. Only one is Australian.
Sara slid down in her chair, chin in her palm, attempting in vain to follow the conversation that was taking place between her co-workers.
"Nah man, it was actually a fake, some kids got this rubber cement and made their own mold, you gotta check it out," Greg barely took a breath to take a swallow of coffee. "It's in evidence now, looks so real... I guess watching it bounce off of your windshield it would look real."
Nick raised a brow. "Splatter and everything?"
Sara slid further down in her chair, slipping into a near-comatose state.
"Yeah! They inserted these packets that burst on impact, really cool, wouldn't mind trying to make one myself," the young CSI looked from Warrick to Nick and back. "In case, you know, I ever need one."
Warrick rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the newspaper in his hands. "You're insane, certifiably, should be locked up."
Snickering while adding more sugar to his java, Greg nodded vehemently. "That wouldn't be so bad, I've always wanted to use the line 'I've seen the People's Court. I'm entitled to one phone call and a strip search.'" Nick laughed a bit as he got up and made his way out of the break room.
Turning his attention to Sara, Greg added in, "Any volunteers?"
Rolling her eyes tiredly, she too pushed herself up and away from the table, "No, I can't even... no."
And without further ado she made her way to the door, passing Grissom on her way. As he attempted to breeze past she leaned in and whispered in a strained, pained voice, "I gotta get out of here."
---
That night, in bed, as Grissom was tracing figure eights over the skin of her abdomen beneath her camisole. Her head was back on the pillow, gazing at the ceiling as she felt his warm breath breeze over her neck; it was comforting, whole. The thick pounding of her heart in her ears filled the space where the sound of his easy breathing should have been.
His index finger pressed against her bellybutton and she laughed quietly. It was in the pockets of solace, in the down moments, the quiet seconds that she felt she should fill the spaces with words. But there were times that she just wished he would say something.
And he did, his voice gruff with lethargy and sweetness, his words slid across the crest of her ears and meandered their way inside, "Autumn in New England is supposed to be fantastic."
"Hmmmm," she agreed, running her fingers through his hair as his lips pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin of her neck.
Grissom shifted onto his back, propping himself up on his elbow; Sara had to strain to be able to look into his eyes. "A week in October, a conference, you and I, York Bed and Breakfast in Rockfort, Massachusetts." Eyes twinkling in the dark, he waited for her response.
"Conference?" came her hesitant reply.
Slowly, he shook his head, a sweet smile gracing his lips. "Guise of."
"What about Ecklie?"
"Honey, Ecklie knows." His words were soft, gentle, and her eyes flared open a bit at the declaration. The situation that they had found themselves in was becoming far too domestic. Sara squirmed and bit the side of her lip. She supposed she should be mad that he hadn't cared to share that bit of information with her before but the slick, hot feeling settling into the pit of her stomach tethered her anger and overwhelmed her with affection.
Her only response, "Oh," and she looked at the ceiling again. "And this is already... planned?" Again, the need to be angry pinched at the base of her spine but the notion that he had gone to such measures after she'd dropped a subtle, inane hint touched her deeply and she slid up onto her side, resting her head on her hand, mimicking his pose.
"Paid in full," again, his voice was gentle, leaving her room to decline the offer if she so chose.
Her eyes were uncertain, glazed over in the soft light of the room and Grissom waited for her to decide how she was going to react. He couldn't rightly blame her if she was upset that he'd taken such liberties but being spontaneous didn't come easy to him; he wanted to make the moment special but this was his first attempt and every future attempt rested on her answer.
She blinked, licked her lips and then in a motion so fluid that he felt as though time had buckled and melted upon itself, Sara slid on top of him and pressed him down into the mattress. "You can be incredibly sweet when you want to be," she said, and he imagined her voice to have melted as well, the warmth of it seeping into his pores. "Autumn in New England... our first vacation together."
Grissom hummed in return; he didn't know what to say. Taking her face between his hands was a good alternative and he gazed at her a moment, wondering if the cool sun of Massachusetts would make her look any different. He supposed not, though he couldn't help the rush of anticipation at the prospect of seeing her amongst all of the turning leaves, hear how they sounded crunching under her feet, watch her wrap a scarf around her neck and take his hand as the fall chill attempted to sneak into their bones.
Sara smiled at him, "Is there a fireplace?" she whispered, her voice just barely audible.
Slowly, he nodded, drew his tongue across his lips. Again, she smiled, but this time the flair of her lips was decidedly naughty. Grinding her hips down onto his she leaned forward and licked the crest of his ear.
Apparently yes was the right answer.
---
Their room was buttery yellow, akin to a quilt in the height of February and it seemed as though the heat and comfort seeped out of the pain to envelop them. Upon stepping into the room for the first time he felt nearly all of his tension fade away, as though he'd stepped into another time.
She slid up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist and settled her chin on his shoulder gently. "You're a brilliant man," she whispered and placed a hot, wet kiss on the skin just below his ear. "Brilliant," she breathed and then breezed by him, into the room, rolling her suitcase behind.
Sara looked perfect perched on the bed, testing the weight and give of the mattress, her fingers pressing into the tan of the comforter. "This was a good idea," he sighed, nearly to himself, and stepped into the room fully, his own, smaller suitcase trailing behind him.
Sara found herself meandering to the large, picture window set into the wall on the left side of the room, mid-morning light spilling brightly inside. The light fractured, spilled, conformed to the sweet lines of her body and illuminated her in such a way that the image nearly hurt his eyes but it didn't stop him from toeing off his shoes and padding up behind her. "How long do you think it'll take you to get out of those clothes?"
She turned, chin over her shoulder as though she'd practiced the move just for him, executed it to achieve maximum seductability. "I really wanted to take a bath," she whispered, fluttering her eyes adorably. His heart clenched nearly painfully and once warm hand came up to trace the curve of a breast.
Perfection; everything he needed was in that one room at that one moment. In his arms.
"That does put a damper on my plans," came his enticing rumble. Sara chuckled low in her throat as she leaned back into his sturdy chest. Honestly, she couldn't believe that she was that in love-wanting to fall into anything, an abyss, if she never had to leave the pocket of bliss that she'd somehow found her way into.
A month ago she had been knee deep in decomp, wanting to cry, to give up, burn out. Now, she was in New England, cradled by clouds and crisp leaves and the one person her life couldn't do without. Yes, she'd somehow meandered her way into delicate perfection. "Well, the tub is big enough for two… three even."
A look of hesitation passed over his features; he was by no means a spring chicken but... he'd never taken a bath with someone before. Somehow, the act of bathing, resting in the same water against someone's body was much more intimate to him than resting inside of them was. "Come on," she sighed sweetly and turned to nestle herself into his arms, her lips shifting against the growing stubble on his cheek. "It'll help you relax."
Grissom squirmed. "I am relaxed," he claimed, his voice to loud for the moment.
Sara stood back, gauged the heat and hesitation warring with each other in his eyes. Smiling sadly, knowingly Sara leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth. "I'll be in the bath, you know where to find me." And she left him lingering in the scent of soft cinnamon and vanilla.
He felt his knees hit the back of the bed before he even knew he was sitting. Eyes fixed on the egg-shell white doorstep, his ears picked up the squeak and hum of the water being turned on and Sara's gentle humming wafting through the crack at the floor. In all honesty, there was no place he would rather be, but getting his body to get up and move in there, hurdle over the insecurities that were tethered to his conscious was an entirely different story.
The scent she had left settling in the room was overtaken by whatever she had added to the warm water. Something spicy and base made its way into his nostrils and he thought of the way it would make her skin smell, how she would taste, how she would look, settled down into a mountain of bubbles. Well... he didn't have to get into the tub with her, he could just watch her bathe.
Or would that freak her out?
The abrupt sound of impromptu giggle had him up off of the bed and through the door in record time. Fingers curled around the wood, he stepped into the humid bathroom, eyes adjusting to the low light coming through the window slats and the candles set up on the vanity. The water and warmth had surrounded her the way that she surrounded him; he wondered if it felt the same.
"The water's fine, you should come in," she drawled as she allowed her head to loll back against the edge of the tub. Three toes peeked out of the bubbles, the dull coffee of the color a stark contrast to the cream of the porcelain.
Grissom took a moment to blink and then sauntered in to settle himself on the low bench that ran along the wall. "Water's not the only thing," came his quiet, alluring growl and at that Sara popped one eye open.
"Get in here," she said good-naturedly.
Again he paused but as he gazed at her she sat up in the water, tiny, glistening spheres attempting to cling to her skin, a feeling that he himself had felt many times before. "I want to feel you," she whispered and slung her arms over the edge, rivulets of water running down the sides to create pools on the floor. Resting her chin on the cool surface, she gazed up at him pathetically.
Thus, he reached for the buttons at his collar, loosening it enough to slip it over his head. A smile spread across her lips as he undressed himself and she stood as he stepped forth and got into the water. Once he was settled, she lowered herself slowly, gently leaning her body back against his.
And then it was quiet; quiet, quiet, quiet.
A few dropped kisses on her shoulder and… quiet. "I'm glad… I ended up… with you."
Her body stiffened in his embrace; her breathing halted. "I guess… I mean… it was easier for me, knowing that you… were the one I wanted, that you are the one I want."
"How did you know?" he whispered.
Sara countered, "How did you?"
"I don't know."
Her response was immediate. "Neither do I."
That was enough for them until the water went cold.
---
He built her a fire and her heart shivered delightfully in her chest. For a moment she found herself wishing that they had met each other much earlier, so they could have spent more time together but… there really was no telling what the future held, and the present was just fine, for the moment.
Bundled in a complimentary robe, curled on the bed, Sara watched as he blew out the match and moved to switch off the lamp.
He lumbered onto bed behind her, pulling her body into his tightly. "I'm sorry I called you controlling last week," he rasped into her hair.
"Hmm," she hummed back, nodding against the bedspread. "And I'm sorry I called you a coward."
Grissom fumbled, jostled her, reached behind him and brought what he was reaching for forward. He cracked the box in front of her, looking at it over her shoulder. "Wear this?" he ask, tilting the box so that the ring caught the light from the fire.
Sara sighed thickly. "Alright."
"Really?"
Sara chuckled a bit and turned her head to look back at him; her voice was honeyed when she said, amused, "Yeah."