Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.
Spoilers: Living Doll, I guess.
Rating: K+
Summary: Tiny, tiny, nothing ficlet, post-finale.
A/N: Big thanks to SBT who wanted angst but knows I'm not capable of it right now.
Unconditional
As the afternoon faded into dusk, they assumed standard position: Sara tucked a pillow under her neck at one end of the couch and stretched out until her long legs rested comfortably in Grissom's lap. He balanced the remote control on her knee with his left hand, and with his right, he stroked her smooth calves absentmindedly while they watched television. There was no set program to watch. Anything would do. As a rule, though, Grissom would avoid anything and everything having to do with forensics -- they saw enough of that at work.
No, their downtime at home was dedicated to the unfamiliar: Discovery Health Channel specials on hermaphrodites, documentaries on the history of body piercing, hours of footage on a man who survived a metal pipe through his skull. They didn't talk much. But then, one afternoon, Grissom settled on The Learning Channel's Half Ton Man, placing the remote back on Sara's knees as he got into his usual TV-viewing position, and everything changed.
They watched as EMS workers slowly worked the half-ton man out of his house and into a waiting ambulance. Sara frowned as she watched the man's dedicated wife absorb the scene in front of her. "Would you still love me if I weighed a thousand pounds?"
Love was a new topic for them. He had confessed his love for her as she had been loaded into an ambulance after teams of people worked to extract her from Natalie's staged crime scene. Right there, as they put her onto the stretcher, Grissom had squeezed her hand and whispered his love to her for the first time. And every day after that.
Sara wasn't quite used to it yet, and cursed herself for bringing up the subject at all, disturbing their quiet time.
Instead of answering her, Grissom snorted.
"What?" she asked, raising a brow.
"I'm just picturing you with a double chin."
She gave him a half-smile before pursing her lips playfully. "You didn't answer the question."
"Yes, I'd still love you."
"That's good," she sighed, leaning her head back against the throw pillow as she pictured Grissom painting her toes while she lay confined to a bed like the man on TV. He'd still love her. Sweet.
It became something of a habit -- as much a routine as relaxing on the couch itself. They'd watch their random shows and she'd pose variations of the same question.
During the body art television series: "Would you still love me if I were covered in tattoos?"
Yes.
While they watched the two-parter on conjoined twins: "Would you still love me if I had a twin growing somewhere on my body?"
Yes.
"Would you love us both?"
Heh.
The special on albinos: "Would you still love me if my body could not produce melanin?"
Yes.
The heartbreaking show about children with Progeria: "Would you still love me if I aged rapidly?"
Yes.
The program about the dwarf couple and their adorable children: "Would you love me if I were little?"
Yes.
The six-hour Deadliest Catch marathon: "Would you still love me if I spent months out of each year on a crab boat in the arctic?"
Yes.
The plastic surgery shows, the makeover shows, the how-to shows…
Yes, yes, yes.
The labor and delivery shows -- the question was out of Sara's mouth before she could stop herself: "Would you still love me if I had a baby?"
"Yes. I'd love you both."
She gaped at him.
Eleven months later, he was proven to be correct.
THE END
A/N #2: There are weekends where I'm so tired and I just veg out and watch all this stuff. Those are my favorite weekends.